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jaskefer · 10 months

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Obsessed with the idea of Extraordinary Things being a back and forth between Jaskier and Radovid, with Jaskier trying to draw him out in the first verse, and Radovid finally answering him in the second.

Cause like, with Radovid, Jaskier meets someone who he can't fully read properly. He knows there's something under the front of a drunken, bumbling prince, but he doesn't know him well enough yet to be certain as to what.

So, he tests the waters a bit. throws out a line to see if Radovid will take it—and he does. A little bit. But it's so interesting to me, because it doesn't just feel like Jaskier is trying to nail down Radovid's truth in this verse; it feels like he's injecting elements of his own mask into it, as well.

"Keep your words on ice, your gaze lights the fire. They say 'keep on playing nice,' but I have no desire. Why waste our words when lips were made for extraordinary things? It's not a want, it's a need, it is paying no heed to what others say to sing."

This is Jaskier's read of Radovid as he knows him so far: a man hiding more complex wants beneath the veneer of a drunken party boy. But it's also Jaskier admitting that he knows this about Radovid because he wears the exact same mask himself.

Much like how Jaskier and Ciri speak through Geralt and Yennefer in order to process their own feelings about them later in the season, Jaskier sings through himself in order to comprehend who Radovid is. Jaskier is using the performative persona he's crafted for himself in an attempt to coax Radovid out of his.

All of it leads into the main intention of this song: "The greatest songs are made up of unspoken words of love. Of them, I've had enough. with you, I am enough." I am tired of having to put up a front. I want to be understood. I think you understand me. Prove me right.

And Radovid sees what Jaskier is doing. He comments on Jaskier's ability to see people for who they are and not who they pretend to be. But there's still more he wants to understand. This still feels like a game, in a way.

It's only after Radovid sees the brutality of Dijkstra and Philippa up close, watches them orchestrate the assassination of the queen and threaten to incriminate him if he doesn't fall in line, that he then grasps the vulnerability in Jaskier's lyrics. Jaskier is also caught between multiple conflicting desires, that of his loyalty to Geralt/Yen/Ciri, and that of his work as the Sandpiper & how said work is backed by his continued commitment to Redanian Intelligence. That internal conflict and the desire to escape it is also highlighted in the song's first verse ("they say keep on playing nice, but i have no desire"). Only after all of this, when true fear begins to take over and the game stops being fun, does Radovid truly begin to truly understand Jaskier.

And so, he seeks him out. And he responds.

“Drop the sweet disguise, your heart’s beating too loud. The fairytales and little lies can’t drown out all the sound.” You were right. I do understand you. I know what you really want, because we're the same. You can’t hide it behind a façade of a song and a story and a persona.

“Take this heart and break this heart for extraordinary things.” I don't know what will become of this, or us. I still don't fully know if we can trust each other. But no one has ever seen me in the way that you have.

It's not a want, it's a need. With you, I am enough.

#angel.txt #the witcher #jaskier #radovid #radskier #meta & theories #angel.doc #twn spoilers #i never wrote my wpb meta so have some extraordinary things meta instead shdfdfddfd #i truly think that first verse is so complex and multi-layered and can be read in multiple ways (both in-universe and externally)#like this is what i meant by 4d chess like how the FUCK can i explain what jaskier's doing in that first verse #its also little things. the background vocals that pick up in the second verse.#the way the second verse is omitted from the diegetic performance of the song which could imply jaskier hadn’t written it at the time #the way that we hear this song over the credits only after they get together in ep 4 and it's an extended version BUT #the extended version is entirely instrumental after the first half ends which also imply that the second half hasn't yet been written #as a whole i think that a lot of twn songs can be read through both internal and external lenses to enhance their existence in the narrativ #the fact that some of them have different names in-universe as opposed to on the ost. the choices they make in diegetic song placement.#im not very inclined in musical terminology but my brain is going insane over what this show does with its songs and how joey himself write #(and tbh i like to think of the sountrack/ost versions of songs as smth separate or alternate from the ones seen directly In the episodes)#idk. just very much intrigued with the idea of this song as a conversation #the entire song being an illustration of the masks they both wear #the truth that lies beneath them‚ and the way they both try to chip at each other until one of them drops it first.#obsessed with certain choices and going a little too insane about them <3

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bittersweet-mojo · 2 years

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something something sexy goose

#geralt of rivia #jaskier #julian alfred pankratz #geraskier #the witcher #the witcher netflix #my art #Bitter Content #fanart #digital art #photoshop #ive been chipping at this since finals week #i learned all these rules about perspective #so now i get to break them on purpose #fisheyes are very fun even if they take a lot of prep #and photoshop having shittier lines than procreate makes this harder #but i desperately needed photoshops adjustment layers for the amount of neon in this so whatever #this piece was for funzies but i am very happy with it

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confused-beany · 1 year

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When someone talks shit about a character in their native language thinking they'll get away with it but then the character replies back in the same language is just... PEAK

#like YEAH I'm knowledgeable in ways you don't expect #you don't know me #you think you can just get away talking shit about me? think again #i have layers you could not even grasp do not presume you get to talk about me #this post is about all those bilingual or multilingual characters #who rock!#but specifically #black panther okoye #okoye #peter parker #mcu peter parker #and last but not the least #jaskier #I haven't actually watched the witcher but that one scene of him talking back to the elves lives in my head rent free #the witcher #100% sure I've seen more I just can't remember right now

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devinwolfi · 1 year

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like two days ago i was like "im not gonna say joey is the best part of the witcher bc i dont think its true" and then i go and act like this

#i DONT think its true #i like him a lot but like for all my This Is The Jaskier Show its mostly a bit sort of #witcher #im not a hypocrite i just have layers

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bimrwolf · 1 year

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Healing Hands by the Fire

geralt of rivia x afab!reader words: 3,684 warnings: smut !! 18+ (minors dni) ; squint and you may see a casual plot summary: Geralt visits Reader, a healer, with severe injuries. a/n: very out of my comfort zone. however, i promised my friend to write this as her christmas present because writing fanfics are my love language. good thing i know basic things about the witcher heheehe.

How did she always end up here? Months without a word or seeing him. She had accepted the peace. Only occasionally did she perk up when there was a knock on her door, secretly hoping it was him. But only one could be so lucky. Instead, it was travelers from all over the Continent who heard word of her abilities.

She couldn’t complain. Healing others in exchange for seeds, food, and sometimes money. Not that it was required for her service but she couldn’t complain about the gratuity.

In fact, she enjoyed helping others. However, it was nearing winter and there were less travelers. They were most likely home to prepare for the violent winter storms that damned the Continent.

It was one of the first snow falls of the season. She had finished feeding the chickens and her horse Atticus. That was always her nighttime routine. Feed the animals, make some tea, study until all the tea is drunk, and finally get ready for bed.

Some might think the routine would get tiring, but there was never any guarantee. It was the one consistent thing in her life at the moment. She was content.

However, some nights, she heard the enchanted chimes outside that let her know someone was approaching. But before she made it to the door, it swung open, snow flurries drifted inside. The cold was sharp and pricked her nose, making her sniffle.

In most cases she would be alarmed. There was no telling what creatures or people were harmless and which ones weren’t. She clutched the nearest thing to her— a broom that always gave her splinters when she used it.

His snow white hair peeked from under his hood and she recognized the distinct low grumble that could be mistaken as a quake. He slowly closed the door, ensuring it was locked this time. “You startled me.” She said, releasing her grip from the broom, checking her hand for any loose wood.

“You should keep the door locked. What if I was a dangerous man breaking in?” She played it off as a joke, not seeing the concerned look on his face.

“Some might say you are dangerous.” She smirked. She never expected him to react to her jokes, but she could feel the warmth blanket around her when his shoulders relaxed. “Are you going to stand there all night?”

He limped further into the cabin. She could see the snow melting on his cloak, dripping on her floor. “You made a mess,” she huffed.

His head lifted and cat-like eyes met hers. It was known his abilities and job forced him to lack showing how he felt. But, she noticed right away how his eyes drooped that he was in pain.

She ran towards him, immediately untying his cloak so that it dropped to the floor. She gasped at the large claw marks scratched into his chest. He could withstand most injuries but the cuts had broken past the many layers of skin.

“Fuck, Geralt. What happened?” Her finger ghosted over the wound on his shoulder. Almost immediately he grabbed her wrist. But she didn’t pull away.

“I’m starving.” He took a moment to look her up and down before letting go of her wrist and walking past her.

Unbelievable. She scoffed and followed him into her den. “Are you serious? Geralt, you’re hurt and need to be healed before you get an infection.”

“I smell meat pie. Do you have any to spare?” He left no time for her to answer. He grabbed the plate on a table and began to shove them in his mouth. He groaned in satisfaction.

She wanted to be annoyed, but she had never seen him act this way. So instead she watched as he stuffed his face. He sat down slowly in a wooden chair. His large body mass made it creak, rocking it with the sound of the crackling fire. His spastic breathing mellowed out into a deep sigh.

He was definitely hurting from his wound but there was something else. She could sense that something was bothering him. Yet, she didn’t pry for an explanation. Instead, she let him watch the fire as she gathered her supplies of elixirs and jars. Then she picked up the pot full of water hanging above the fire and poured it into a bowl. The steam warmed her face that was still cold from earlier.

“Are you still hungry? I think I only have bread.” She sat her things on the table next to him, but not looking in his direction. However, she could feel his piercing eyes watching her every single move. “If you’re not feeling like bread I can stay up and make you soup.”

His hand flew to her wrist. She jumped, nearly knocking over a bottle with green shiny liquid. She turned her head slightly, sighing deeply. “It hurts,” Geralt mumbled.

His wound was red, inflamed, and looked worse in the light. And if Geralt says it hurts then it was worse than she had imagined. “Take your tunic off while I prepare.” Although it was her giving the instruction, she couldn’t help the heat on her cheeks arise. Especially when he did what he was told. She had only seen his bare chest a handful of times, but each time made her stomach knot up.

He took a heavy breath as he settled back into the chair, wincing when she placed a hot cloth on his open wound. His nails dug into the chair. His teeth clenched as he threw his head back. She couldn’t help but giggle. In return, he snapped his head to look at her, visibly annoyed. “What?”

She swatted him for the rash reaction. “No need to be hot headed, Geralt. I was only laughing because I’ve never seen you act so dramatic.”

“I’m not being dramatic,” he argued. He winced again when the cloth touched his skin once more. He rolled his eyes when he noticed the smirk she tried to hide from him, her hair covered her face. Not thinking, he took his finger and pushed it out of the way so he could see her more clearly.

She tried to ignore the knot in her stomach or how her chest was breathing differently. She even tried to look away subtly but the only thing she could look at without being suspicious was his bare chest. “How’s Yennefer?”

The change of subject was almost as if she had poured salt into his fresh wounds. He yanked his hand away and turned his head to face the fire, jaw ticked. She should’ve felt guilty for bringing up his on and off lover. Instead, she felt relieved his attention was no longer on her and probably wouldn’t be the rest of the night.

That’s how it always went. He would get too close and right before she fell under his spell she would mention the other woman. She had only met the sorceress once. They neither liked or disliked one another. Yet, she could tell there would not be any attempts to go frollicking in a field like they were the best of friends.

In some ways, she had been jealous of Yennefer– she was interesting and traveled the Continent and had fought in many wars. She was beautiful and cunning. Of course Geralt would pick her as a lover.

“Ow.” Geralt grimaced, shifting in the chair. Her fingers were touching the wounds, and spreading them apart. “Are you about done? I’m tired.”

She continued to inspect his wounds closely, having to push between his legs to get a closer look. “I have to ensure there are no severe damages so I know what to make.” His huff made her roll her eyes. She wanted to swat him for still acting like a child. “Whatever got you, got you good, eh?”

He looked away then back at her, swallowing. “Yes, I suppose.”

There was a beat of silence. Only the fire was popping.

“I thought I was goin’ to die.” He said out loud in a low whisper. Almost like he didn’t want her to hear him.

She stopped briefly to look up at him. He was serious. “Well, fortunately whatever it was missed your heart by a hair.” She pointed to where his heart was and traced a line to the start of one of the scratches only millimeters away. She got up, leaving him with a witty smile as she started to pour the many different potions into a different bowl.

“Me and Yennefer haven’t spoken in months,” he admitted.

It was hard not to react, but she had never seen him willingly talk about the woman before. “Oh.”

“We wanted different things I suppose,” he continued. “If it weren’t for Ciri’s letters, then I wouldn’t even know if she was still alive.”

“You miss her?” It was meant to sound like a question, but it came across as a statement.

He looked down at his hands, ashamed. “I’m not sure if I’m allowed to miss someone.”

“Are you not allowed or are you unsure you know what it’s supposed to feel like?”

He didn’t answer.

She walked back and found her place again between his legs. “Missing someone feels like always looking at the door when there’s a knock, and your heart skips a beat, hoping it’s them.” She dipped her finger in the cream she had made and started to apply it to the open wound.

“I don’t live in a cottage with a door.” His hands creeped to his thighs so they brushed her as she moved.

She finished with the first cut and moved onto the second, which was much deeper and longer. “Well, missing someone can also feel like wanting to cry even when you’re happy.”

“You do know I have emotions?” He quizzed her.

She smirked. “Of course I do. I was only trying to help you figure out if you miss Yennefer.”

He hummed, running a finger over the first wound she had treated which was starting to already heal. His skin attaching itself together again. “I miss her, but not in the way you think I do.”

“Then in what way?” She raised her brow, clearly confused as to what he meant.

He didn’t answer her right away. “Not in the way I miss you.”

The bowl in her hand nearly clattered to the floor. She froze, replaying the words over and over as if she hadn’t heard him. Did Geralt really admit to missing her? No, he doesn’t actually mean it. He was messing with her. “That’s not funny.” Her breath was shaky. In fact, her hands were shaky too as she tried to continue healing him.

“Did I make a joke?” His tone was unwavering. He placed his hand on her warm cheek, brushing his thumb over her soft flesh. He had never touched her so intimately like he was now.

She shook her head, using her free hand to brush him away, focusing on the rest of his injuries. “You’ve lost a lot of blood. You’re delusional.”

“I thought your potions helped with that?”

Her eyes flickered up to meet his, briefly, before averting them back to the bowl. She swooped the last of the cream on her finger and spread it slowly over the last scratch. The others had closed up but one could make out the red scar. “Those will go away in due time,” she mumbled.

As she tried to get up he caught her arm, standing up with her, and in doing so their chests were against one another. He could feel her heavy breathing. And she could feel the warmth from his body electrifying hers.

“I should go make your bed. You need to rest.” She tried to walk away but his grip never left her arm. “Geralt.”

He took the bowl from her hands and placed it back on the table. “How much longer will you deny it?”

She swallowed the gasp that had almost escaped her, shaking her head. “What do you mean?” Finally, she had pulled away but made no efforts to leave the room, only stepping back to make space between them. And of course he could probably read her like an open book while she only had his stoic expressions to decipher. He opened his mouth, but closed it, sighing loudly. “Thank you, Y/n.”

Her face softened.

“I don’t… I don’t know what I would’ve done if it weren’t for you. In fact, I don’t know what I would do without you.” His jaw slacked, watching her intensely.

She could feel the pull, like a magnet, all too familiar when it came to Geralt. Normally, she had to ignore it. But at that moment, it felt like a boiling pot of water, steaming and bubbling, unable to contain itself. And as she looked into his piercing eyes, the knot in her stomach told her it was time to say something. “Geralt.” Her voice was above a whisper. “I have something to tell you.”

“Yes?” His expression never faltered.

She shifted her feet, uncomfortable. “I… I um… I’m making oat porridge in the morning.” She had decided it was best to hold back what she really wanted to say. “I’ll go prepare your room.”

His yellow eyes narrowed, searching for hers. She knew he was watching the emotions swirl through her mind. She knew that he knew that wasn’t what she really wanted to say to him. “No.” He was assertive and the growled vibrations dragged along her back like a dagger, giving her chills.

Ignoring the goosebumps along her arms, she ran her hand over her face. “What do you want me to say?” She felt like a twig that had snapped. “Why are you being mean? You stand there forcing a confession out of me. A confession you will never get because there’s nothing to say.” Her tears burned in the corner of her eyes. She hated how foolish she looked in front of him. Crying and blubbering because he decided to dig deeper.

They had a routine. He would knock on the door and she would heal his wounds. Their deep conversations were rare, and sometimes he wouldn’t speak at all. Sometimes he would leave in the morning without a word. So why must this time be any different than the others?

“You’re angry.”

She scoffed. “Yes, I’m angry.” Unable to face him, she turned to look at the fireplace, shaking her head. “That’s the most frustrating part of all of this. I’m angry that you’re here. I’m angry that I don’t see you for months with no word if you’re even alive. I’m angry that you show up when I’m missing you the most.” Her eyes caught his, her nostrils flared. She had had enough of it, storming up to him and putting a finger against his bare chest. “I’m angry that you sit there and touch me and talk to me like we’re lovers. I’m angry that you won’t go to someone else for help. Because I can’t do it anymore, Geralt. I can’t do it.”

And there it was. Years worth of bubbling water, spilling over the pot and all over the floor. She had made a mess that she wasn’t sure if she would be able to clean up.

Geralt’s jaw ticked, his eyes scanning her face. “You wish to not see me anymore? Would that be easier?”

Her finger fell slowly from his chest. Her voice trembled. “It’s easier than caring about you.”

Geralt brought his hand up slowly to her cheek, brushing his knuckle against a tear. “I am angry at you too,” he whispered. Her brows furrowed, unsure what he meant. “I told you I have feelings too. Yet, you assume I don’t. You assume I don’t care about you either.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Do you?”

“Why do you think I keep coming back?” His jaw slacked.

The tension between them was thick and palpable. She wasn’t sure what else there was to say. Her heart was torn. Even with the confession, there was no guarantee. He was a Witcher with responsibilities that were not suitable for the life she wanted. She pushed it away, cracking a smile. “Are you saying that you got injured on purpose? So you could see me?”

“Perhaps.” The corner of his mouth flickered, leaning his head down towards her.

“You could’ve died.” She stepped closer to him, tracing her finger of his scars, looking at his lips.

“But I didn’t.” He said against her mouth, finally closing the gap between them.

He wrapped his arms around her, strong and sure, deepening the kiss. It was gentle but fierce, full of longing and tension that had been built up along the years. It tasted like all the warm tea she had made for him over time.

When she moaned, Geralt took the opportunity to slip his tongue in her mouth, gliding it tenderly and carefully against hers, groaning in satisfaction. He somehow managed to pull her closer as if their bodies weren’t already meshed together.

It was her who broke away first, both of them gasping for air, chests heaving from the heavy kiss. Geralt’s eyes had turned black, his senses heightened, craving more.

Without a word, she unbuttoned her blouse, freeing her chest as she dropped it to the floor. She kissed Geralt again on the mouth, his neck, and then his chest. She whispered in his ear, “I think I should go prepare your room now.”

He nodded, allowing her to take his hand to lead him to her room, rather than the room up in the attic that her guests normally stayed in. It was full of knick knacks and books scattered. Her bed was unmade, but neither one of them cared.

She pushed him on the bed, straddling his lap, peppering kisses all over his chest. If she was smart, she would savor all of it– every kiss and touch. But fuck all of it. She had waited too long to savor it. She grinded herself against his hardness, smiling against his ear when she felt him jump through his trousers. Something had told her it was too long for him too.

The rest of their clothes had found a new place on the floor of her bedroom. She was now laying down, Geralt hovered over her, his chain dangled over her face, and his hands roamed over her bare body as she whimpered under his touch. His lips attacked her neck, trailing down her body, relishing every inch.

“Geralt,” she mewled.

She felt the vibrations of his chuckle, revitalizing her, the warmth between her legs now ached. “Yes?” He came back towards her mouth, placing a life-wrecking kiss on it.

She nibbled his bottom lip. “You know.”

“Mm, I don’t think I do,” he teased. His hand was between her legs, fingers gliding, taunting her.

She thrusted her hips upwards, forcing friction against her swollen clit, gasping when he slid a finger in her. “I need you.”

The pitiful look in her eyes convinced him enough to give her what she wanted. And because any longer, he felt like he would combust. Geralt pushed her legs apart and then guided his girthy length to her entrance, sliding it in slowly.

She gasped as he sunk deeper inside her, finally able to marvel all of her. It was sweet like the honey she snuck in his tea. Rich like the pastries she packed in his knapsack whenever he left in the mornings, without saying goodbye because he was afraid he would never leave if he saw her golden smile in the mornings. Yet, he wasn’t strong enough to never come back.

At first, his thrusts were slow and tender, slipping so deep that his tip reached as far as it could. She gripped his shoulders, nails forming crescents, back arching as he picked up the pace. She wanted to hug him with her thighs, but his hands were sure to keep them open and spread for him.

The sounds of their sticky skin crashing together blended with their moans and grunts, forming a delectable melody. She pulled him into an open-mouth sloppy kiss, humming. The bed rattled beneath them, his pace was dangerously close to cracking the frame.

In a swift move, he pulled her up, so that she was straddling him. Their bare chests flushed together, her face in the crook of his neck, whimpering as she bounced on his cock. “I’m… fuck,” she breathed, unable to make the words as it hit her sweet spot.

“Me too.” He slightly pushed her shoulders back, wanting to see her. His palm cradled her face, swallowing the thickness stuck in his throat. He knew he looked destroyed. He didn’t show how he felt often, but the pent up tension over the year had finally arisen.

“G…Geralt!” She shouted as her walls closed around him, releasing her orgasm around him, resting her forehead on his chest as he continued to move her up and down. She clutched onto him as if she was about to float away.

He threw his head back as his cock twitched, finishing, He thrusted through his climax, panting as he slowed to a halt. His senses were still high and could hear the fire still crackling in the den. He could feel her breathing still rugged and hot, sticking to his chest.

She couldn’t see it but Geralt let a small smile briefly appear as he stroked her bare back. He placed a kiss on the top of her head. She looked up at him, running her fingers through his snow-white hair. “Will you stay one more night?”

He tilted his head, brows knitted together. “Are you still angry with me?”

A mischievous glimmer crossed her eyes. “If I am, does that mean you’ll stay?”

He snickered, placing a peck on her lips, lingering, scared if he were to break away she’d disappear.

Angry or not, he was going to stay one more night.

#geralt x reader #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt x y/n #geralt x you #geralt smut #geralt x reader smut #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher smut #the witcher x reader #the witcher x you #the witcher x y/n #the witcher fic #blaize writes #geralt of rivia imagine #the witcher imagine

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celestialvoid-fanfiction · 11 months

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A comment I see a lot is that Jaskier’s outfits have gotten worse over the seasons, but not when you think about their relation to his character growth. Here’s a look at Jaskier’s outfits across the seasons of The Witcher.

Season one: his outfits change frequently and each is as boldly coloured and extravagant as the next. They’re detailed but also have an air of royalty to their design, with puffed sleeves, high collar, high waistline of the pants, and a slim-fit around the waist.

This is because he’s just starting out as a bard; he is still used to being a viscount, used having money and living in luxury.

Then in season two, we get the Sandpiper outfit, one outfit that is durable and layered so that it can be adjusted to suit different climates. It’s more practical but less detailed which makes it easier for him to blend in with normal people (which benefits his cause). At this point, Jaskier is more established as a bard and now pays for himself or scrounges money and uses it to help people in need, so there’s less fancy clothing or materialistic spending. His vest has a pattern to it that calls back to season one but it’s dull, faded and stained.

But what’s more, his hair is unkempt and his clothes are blood soaked and stained, a visual representation of his mental downfall since the end of season one when he and Geralt had a falling out.

And now, in the previews of season three, his hair is groomed/neat, his clothes are still the Sandpiper outfit but with a floral shirt and a detailed, open-breasted vest that calls back to the patterns and intricacies of his outfits in season one. He’s found a balance between simplicity and the elegance he was used to. He’s more comfortable in himself and has found a balance between who he was (a viscount who knew money and luxury) and who he wanted to be (the Sandpiper; someone who helps others).

Another detail is his collars.

In season one, he wears high collars that cover his chest and neck, suggesting he’s shut off and defensive or uncomfortable in his surroundings.

In season two, his collars stick up but his chest and neck are bare, suggesting he still has his defences up but he’s been laid bare emotionally and psychologically.

Finally, on season three, his collars lay flat, his shirt is unbuttoned and his vest has a wide lapel, suggesting he’s comfortable, open, and isn’t scared of being vulnerable.

That’s just my thoughts on the matter. And while I would love to see Jaskier in outfits like the ones in season one, I also like the other outfits and how they reflect him.

#jaskier #the witcher #the witcher season 1 #the witcher season one #the witcher season 2 #the witcher season two #ther witcher season 3 #the witcher season three #jaskier’s outfits #joey batey #netflix the witcher #dandelion

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inexplicifics · 1 month

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I was listening to “Only Love Proudly…” again, and when I got to the bit about Jaskier going through more chemises than anyone ought, I remembered a tip from corset making:

The seams of a corset are under a lot of strain, and it is a common failure point- either the stitches will snap, or the fabric will rip along the stitch line. If the outer layer of the corset is expensive silk, it is a very good idea to make sure that the fabric is stronger than the thread, so if the seam rips you can sew right it back up without changing the width of the panel.

So maybe the seamstresses start doing up Jaskier’s chemises in very weak thread, with seams in the convenient ripping locations so Geralt can peel him like a banana and they just have to do a quick stitch job rather than making an entirely new garment.

I think the seamstresses absolutely start making Jaskier's chemises to be essentially tear-away clothing. Jaskier is delighted and Geralt doesn't notice, because, well, all clothing is tear-away if you're a Witcher.

#questions answered #accidental warlord au #jaskier

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cosmos-coma · 1 year

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Sick Days- Geralt

Pairing: Geralt x Reader

Words: ~1.1k

Summary: You refuse to tell Geralt that you're sick and so he has to find out the hard way

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“How are you doing back there, Y/n?” Geralt called back to you, he and Roach taking the lead on this narrow path.

The partly cloudy afternoon was more than welcome to you compared to the rain you had pushed through all day yesterday. And the day before. Ugh.

Honestly, you liked rain as a whole, but the added chill in the air and the absolute soaking of your jacket left you feeling tired, feverish, and sniffly. You dared not let Geralt know that you were growing sick, the deadline to get to Novigrad was drawing closer and you refused to be the cause for missing it.

“Yep, yeah, I’m okay back here…” you lied. Your vision had begun spinning and your vision started lagging behind your eyes about 10 minutes ago. Your light tunic clung to your skin as your fever made you sweat relentlessly. Your various layers were laying across your horse in an unceremonious heap where you had left them and- wait, did you lose a jacket along the way? Hmm, you couldn't remember.

You let out a soft hum as a faint breeze cooled your skin and gave you a moment of relief from the sweltering heat.

“Y/n?” Geralt called out to you, “did you hear what I said?”

“Hm? Oh, no… what were you saying?” Your eyes closed as you tried to listen, your ears only picking up garbled noises. You could feel your body begin to get to tired to hold itself together, but you had to fight through it.

“Hmm, That’s interesting… “ you replied- well you're pretty sure that’s what you said. You… couldn’t be sure right now. Your consciousness filled with nothing more than a dense fog you couldn't seem to fan away.

“Yes very interesting…” you slurred out as your mind finally forced your body to shut down and everything went dark.

“Y/n, you’re not making any sense- shit..!” Geralt turned just in time to see you fall off your horse with a great big THUD. A pathetic groan was the last sound your barely conscious body sent out as Geralt yelled again and ran to your limp body.

“Y/n?” he shook you, “Fuck… and you’re burning up,” he commented and swiftly picked you up, your skin blazing and burning against his. “Let’s get you to an Inn, we’re done traveling for today…”

You woke up on clean linens, your body stripped down to its underclothes and covered in damp washcloths to keep you cool. “Hmm, Geralt...?” you grunted out as you sat up, rolled up cloth falling from your forehead, “Oh- nope, no, no, no... too dizzy…” you sighed and promptly laid down again.

“Welcome back, sleeping beauty…” Geralt jested and sat on the edge of the bed- his expression slowly changing to something more sincere, his voice quieting as he urged you to take in the seriousness of his words. “You scared me back there… why didn’t you tell me that you were sick..? That you had a fever..?”

Your mouth opened and closed as you tried to find an adequate explanation, but it never came.

“You could have died if you’d fallen over a cliff's edge…if your head had hit rocks…” Geralt couldn’t even meet your eyes as he talked- instead opting to replace the damp cloths on your forehead. “You’re not as hearty as a Witcher is- you know that.”

You frowned, feeling more and more like a scolded child as he spoke to you. You shook your head and glanced outside instead of anywhere near this conversation.

“Y/n...” Geralt sighed, knowing exactly what you were doing, “Dear heart..?” he tried once more, finally catching your gaze.

“I don’t mean to make your softness such a flaw- you know it's exactly what pulled me into you in the first place..” A small smile crept over his features as he briefly remembered your first meeting. “But you need to let me know when to slow down, okay? Remind me now and then to be a little softer too,” he spoke so quietly that you were sure nothing else in the world could have heard him but you.

Your own expression reflected his smile and his whispered words fluttered around your heart “I will… I promise.” your fingers reached out for his, searching around until they captured his touch. “Oh, how long have I been out? We need to keep going” you urged, using your aching arm to bring his hand up to your lips in a soft kiss before you struggled to pull yourself upright.

But Geralt only laughed and shook his head as he helped you sit up, “now I see where Ciri gets her endless determination from- neither of you wants to stop for a minute to take care of yourselves.”

“We learned it from YOU, Geralt…” you grinned, sniffling as your nose threatened to run.

Eyes rolling, his smile became even wider. “Anyways… I mean to say that you shouldn’t worry about it… we’ve been making good time, we can spare a day to let you rest and recover.”

You nodded and relaxed a bit more, rolling your shoulder and cracking your back as you tried to get comfortable. “Good… Good, I really can’t fall off like that again. I feel like I just slammed shoulder-first into a shaelmaar…”

“I bet,” Your witcher snorted, a knowing smile hiding behind your hand as he brought it up to kiss in return. “Do you think some desert would make that shoulder feel any better?”

“Hmmmmmm, I think it’s a good start… that might help being sick but maybe you can rub my shoulder later..?” you grinned, knowing you were pushing it, but that hadn’t failed you yet.

A genuine laugh pulled itself from Geralt as he stood, audible and even forming a faint crease around his eyes. For a witcher, it might as well have been a full belly laugh the way their stoic expressions dampen everything.

You beamed and watched your handsome witcher as he headed off to get you dessert. You wouldn’t be surprised if his heart was as golden and lovely as his eyes were. “Hey, Geralt? I love you…”

“I love you too, Dear heart… no matter how soft you make me.” He said with a smile as he came back to your side and leaned down to press a sweet kiss against your lips.

______________________________

Taglist: @writingmysanity @open--till--midnight @dark-academia-slut @madamemelancholysstuff

#geralt knows how to please you lol #Geralt #geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt x reader #geralt x y/n #geralt x you #The witcher 3 #tw3 geralt #hurt/comfort #geralt fluff #Geralt hurt/comfort

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dirtyvulture · 7 months

Text

Natasha Romanoff x Male!Witcher!Reader

18+ only, read at your own risk

Requested by Yuni on Ao3: (Translated from French on Google translate, original request below) Hi, I really like your work and was wondering if you can do a The Witcher style male Natasha x Reader covered in scars (one of which is across his face) and tattoos, a mass of muscles and the rest as a result 😳 😅, who returns from the fight and finds Natasha. To this follows a well-deserved part of legs in the air 😆😜. Thank you if you accept, good continuation. (My apologies for so many details)

AN: I've never watched The Witcher, so thanks to @mostlymarvelsstuff for educating me lol.

Original request: Bonjour, j'aime beaucoup votre travail et je me demandais si vous pouvez faire un Natasha x Reader masculin du style The Witcher couvert de cicatrices (dont une lui barre le visage) et de tatouages, une masse de muscles et le reste en conséquences 😳😅, qui revient du combat et retrouve Natasha. À cela suit une partie de jambes en l'air bien méritée 😆😜. Merci si vous acceptez, bonne continuation. (Mes excuses pour tant de détails)

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You shove your shoulder into your door one final time that almost knocks it off its hinges as you stumble into your room. You throw your sword onto the carpet and have the urge to fall with it until you see Natasha Romanoff waiting on your bed for you.

"Nat?" you ask, fighting against the exhaustion seeping into your bones. "What are you doing here?"

"Here to congratulate you after another successful battle," she says. "I already got your bath ready for you--"

"You didn't have to." While part of you is grateful for her help, you also like to maintain your independency and don't like to be waited on very much.

"Come on," she beckons, standing up and offering her hand. You have no energy left to argue and follow her into the bathroom, where true to her word, the enormous wooden basin is filled with steaming water.

You turn around to let Natasha help you remove off your several layers of armor and clothing. Some of it is splattered with your opponents blood, some of it yours, although you had hardly been injured in the fight. Natasha's hand lingers on your chest, tracing the shell of the wolf medallion hanging around your neck. Her hand travels down your ribs, where you have a thin slash from a sword.

"Let me get you a bandage for that," she says, darting off while you stand there naked, taking a moment to admire your reflection in the mirror. The years of hunts had taken a visible toll on your body, with scars littering your torso and limbs. There is a ragged chunk of missing flesh on your left thigh and claw marks raking across your chest to your stomach. Your most prominent scar could not be easily hid with clothing because it was on your face, crossing your left eye from your forehead to your cheek. But despite the damage from an innumerable amount of fights, you were of good health and strongly built, with sculpted muscles that put most men to shame.

Natasha returns with a bandage and some ointment, but requests that you wash off the blood and dirt in the tub first. You are happy to oblige, slipping into the warm water and closing your eyes in bliss as the heat loosens your muscles.

Natasha conjures up a rag and a bar of soap, wetting both and rubbing them together until a white lather appears. You sit back and let her wash your face, arms, and chest, taking the washcloth from her to finish what's left under the water. She eyes you hungrily as you wash yourself, almost like she's jealous she doesn't get to do it herself.

"You'll get your turn," you promise as you drain the tub of the dirty water. Natasha fills a bucket to present you with clean water to rinse off with, and when you're done you stand up, dripping water onto the ground and Natasha not-so-subtly clenches her legs together.

You go back to the bedroom, allowing her to clean and bandage the cut on your side, and even after that she's still looking at you like she wants to devour you.

"Nat," you say, finally ready to give in to her.

"Hold on. Drink this." Out of nowhere, she conjures up a flask carrying a bright-red liquid and holds it out to you.

"Will this heal me?" you ask, hesitant from the potion's flashy color.

"Yes," Natasha says with a grin, "And it'll help you last longer."

It takes a moment for you to understand what she's referring to, but you eagerly down the potion, cringing at the harsh taste. It doesn't make you feel any different at first, but then a hot warmth spreads to your groin and you realize it's because Natasha's taken your cock in her hands and starts stroking you slowly.

You crawl back on the bed, spreading your legs to allow her to join you. She takes off her own multiple layers of clothing, climbing on top of you and rubbing her bare chest against yours. Her nipples are already hard and you grope her breasts roughly. She arches into you and moans, and you hike your hips up to rub your cock along her smooth thighs.

"Fuck, Y/N," she murmurs, her hands roaming your body as much as yours are on hers. Natasha loves the way your muscles shift and flex under her touch. She can practically feel the individual muscle fibers in your chest straining and popping and your thighs are rock-solid underneath hers.

Her nails dig into the curve of your biceps, trying to keep you pinned down, but of course her strength is no match for yours. You wrap your arms around her waist, flipping her over in one motion and kissing her fiercely. You feel her hands grab at your medallion, then going down your sides and gripping onto your muscular butt to guide your hips.

"Inside," she begs. "I need you."

"Not yet," you tease, rolling your hips slowly so the tip of your cock teases her entrance. But you don't think she's wet enough for you, and with your size, you don't want to hurt her by pushing in too early. Besides, it's fun to tease her.

"Please, please," she begs, widening her legs until you can see her glistening center.

You push two fingers into her and curl them against her front wall; she moans loudly and drops her head back into the pillows. Your cock hardens even more at the thought of her walls clenching around you like that. You roll your thumb over her clit a few times, pumping your fingers in and out, until her thighs are trembling and she's panting and gasping for your cock.

"Now you're ready," you announce, taking her thighs in your large hands and pressing them into the bed, holding them wide apart. You position yourself at your entrance and slide right in, moaning at the heat that clenches at you.

"Oh fuck, Nat," you grunt, overwhelmed by the urge to cum immediately, but you feel something in your stomach tighten, preventing you from release. Knowing this is the work of her potion but not sure how long it will last, you start thrusting in long, hard strokes, filling Natasha and pulling out until you see your tip wet with her juices.

"Yes, yes, just like that," Natasha moans, squirming on the bed as you hold her down and jack your hips into hers.

"You feel like perfection," you say, savoring the feeling of her silky walls dragging up and down your throbbing cock. You know when you finally get to cum, you're going to fill her to the brim.

"So do you," she says, trying to sit up and grab onto your broad shoulders to steady yourself with as the bedframe starts to shudder violently from your motions.

"When can I cum?" you ask, as if she holds that much control over you.

"After I do," she replies with a sly grin.

"Okay." You start to thrust even harder, your abs starting to burn from the effort. "Tell me when," you add, noticing her tensing up beneath you. You feel like you're ready to topple over the edge, but no matter how deeply you thrust into Natasha, you just can't reach the peak.

"I'm gonna cum!" Natasha squeaks, her nails digging into your muscles.

You don't stop thrusting even as she's gushing around you, the slickness aiding your strokes, and finally when her body stops convulsing, your cock pumps cum straight into her womb. The orgasm is so intense and sudden you think you pass out for a moment, finding yourself lying on top of Natasha in a sticky heap.

"Oh no, I am so sorry, Natasha--" you say, trying to push away from her but she locks her legs around your hips so you can't pull out.

"Stay," she says, enjoying the warmth of your body on top of her and the fullness of your cock inside her.

"As you wish," you say, in no mood to argue with her now and shifting to get comfortable.

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AN: This was fun to write! Thanks for the request!

Please like, reblog, and comment! Follow for more content. 🥰

#natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader

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fangirleaconmigo · 3 months

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In your expert opinion, do you think there’s any deeper reading to interpret from Geralt’s rebound with Essi, and traits she shares with Dandelion? (I know it wasn’t authorial intention in the least, but when he kissed her within 10 minutes of meeting, I got a “she’s a lot like Dandelion, surely she’s safe to embarrass myself with” vibe).

Hi Nonny!

Essi and Dandelion, Poets and Parallels, Ballads and Broken Hearts

Thank you for the ask! I'm on my lunch break from work, but I'm so happy to be answering Witcher book questions again that I'm sneaking off to do this.

Essi is such an interesting character, right? On one hand, she seems to be treated as the 'anti-Yen" by the narrative and the thing that Geralt 'should' want, thereby reinforcing his love for Yen when he *doesn't* fall in love with Essi.

But then there are all the curious parallels and similarities with Dandelion, which also makes it fun to analyze in that way. The list of similarities is long: their profession, personality, looks, their level of talent, and my favorite, their readiness to throw hands on behalf of Geralt of Rivia. And then there is The Ballad.

Ok. I'm going to set authorial intent aside for the moment, because writers write things all the time they don't intend to write. And I think any artist worth their salt should be thrilled that their work is layered and interesting enough to inspire differing interpretations.

That being said, let's get to the fun part.

SPOILERS SPOILERS FOR ESSI'S STORY PLS DON'T READ IF YOU DON'T WANT TO BE SPOILED.

Profession, personality

Let's look at Essi's introduction! She enters the scene acting just like Dandelion. Both poets are mercilessly insulting one another in their fake-genteel way. (Lots of shade, as well as out and out insults)

Geralt is taken aback, thinking they are fighting, but then they fall on one another embracing and he's like...oh lordt. There's two of them.

"The Witcher was taken aback, but not too greatly. A professional colleague of Dandelion's could not, indeed, differ much from him in terms of predictability."

--Sword of Destiny pg 195

So we have profession, and personality being very similar. Bards with sharp tongues and ready emotions. Then we have looks!

Looks.

I've done a post on Dandelion's looks here. And Essi is similar! Blonde hair, blue eyes, and beautiful. Same same. Sorry, her eyes are a dark blue whereas Dandelion's are cornflower. Much different so contrast.

Level of talent.

They are both beloved and famous. When Ciri is studying at Nenneke's temple, she has access to both of their books of poetry.

[Ciri] read The Adversities of Loving and Time of the Moon, collections of poems by the famous troubadour Dandelion. She shed tears over the ballads of Essi Daven, subtle, infused with mystery, and collected in a small, beautifully bound volume entitled The Blue Pearl. --Blood of Elves pg 298

And Geralt adores both of their voices. When Essi and Dandelion are singing together, Geralt thinks to himself that they have the most beautiful voices that he has ever heard.

They Stay Ready to Throw Hands for Geralt of Rivia.

The text even classifies Essi and Dandelion together on this. And as I said, it's my favorite part of her character, and not just because I love Geralt. It shows her strength, her strong sense of self, her courage, and her values.

First, she, much in the way that Dandelion does, uses her fame, connections, and higher social standing to protect Geralt. And she throws Dandelion into the mix for good measure to strengthen her threats. So when Duke Agloval threatens to drive Geralt to the border with a whip. Essi reponds.

"...please dont threaten Geralt. It so happens that Dandelion and I have several friends...King Ethain of Cidaris...always says that our ballads aren't just lively music and rhymes, but a way of spreading news...Do you wish, your Grace, to be written into the chronicle of human kind? I can arrange it?" --Sword of Destiny pg 212

And when Geralt turns down Agloval's 'offer' of permanent work killing sea creatures in a permanent war with them, (keeping in mind that the noble has stiffed Geralt twice on payment so far) Agloval invokes Geralt's poverty in a demeaning way.

"Oh how proud," Agloval smiled. "How haughty. You reject offers in a way some kings wouldn't be ashamed of. You give up decent money with the air of a wealthy man after a lavish dinner. Geralt? Did you have lunch today? No? And tomorrow? And the day after? I see little chance, Witcher, very little..."

It is so infuriating. Agloval is saying...who the fuck do you think you are? Someone important? Someone with status?? Someone who is allowed to decide his own ethics for himself?

This is a constant theme. The...know your place. Stop trying to think for yourself. Ethics look stupid on you, because you aren't 'real' enough of a human being to have them. So it is super satisfying when Essi lets loose on him.

"How dare you!" Little Eye cried shrilly. "How dare you speak like that to him Agloval!...How can you be so base?"...

Geralt tries to stop her. He sees little point.

"Stop it Essi," Geralt said. "Stop, Essi, there's no point." "Not true," she said angrily. "These is a point. Someone has to tell it straight to this self-appointed duke....who now thinks he has the right to insult other people."

And she isn't done.

"Yes, Agloval, " Essi continued, clenching her shaking hands into fists. "The opportunity to insult other people amuses and pleases you. You delight in the contempt you can show the Witcher...you should know that the Witcher mocks your attempts and slights., that they do not make the faintest impression on him..."

Then we bring Dandelion back in. Because guess who also feels anger and revulsion when Geralt is treated so contemptuously? Let Essi say it...

"The Witcher doesn't feel what Dandelion and I feel, and we feel revulsion."

Sword of Destiny pg 237

That's like...not even half of her unloading on this guy. She is like...you are worth less than Geralt, so jot that down.

Now..

The Ballad

Here is why the ballad matters to me. I think that perhaps even more interesting than how Geralt responds to Essi (interesting though it is) is how Dandelion responds to Essi. Why does he think someone who is almost exactly like him is perfect for Geralt? I mean, he sees himself in her so much that he thinks of her as his sister.

He loves her more than Geralt does I think that is clear. Geralt cares deeply about her. But to Dandelion, she is like his family.

He is put in a shitty position of seeing her distraught and anguished about her feelings for Geralt and Geralt afraid of leading her on or hurting her. Geralt and Essi go back and forth, making it insufferable for Dandelion as a third wheel.

I talked about it here here and here.

Dandelion's response is the subject of controversy in fandom, and there are many valid and differing reader responses. But it seems clear that Dandelion has come to terms with the fact that Geralt and Essi will not be together in love, despite his advice to Geralt. So he suggests they just fuck to get it out of their systems and then everything will be ok. (that's his solution to most things)

So, if he is at ease with that, why the ballad? At the end of the story, Dandelion composes a ballad while Essi and Geralt sleep.

Dandelion, staring into the dying embers, sat much longer, alone, quietly strumming his lute. It began with a few bars, from which an elegant, soothing melody emerged. The lyric suited the melody, and came into being simultaneously with it, the words blending into the music, becoming set in it like insects in translucent, golden lumps of amber. The ballad told of a certain witcher and a certain poet. About how the witcher and the poet met on the seashore, among the crying of seagulls, and how they fell in love at first sight. About how beautiful and powerful was their love. About how nothing - not even death - was able to destroy that love and part them.

Sword of Destiny pg 246

Why this romantic song?? About a witcher and poet?

Yes, it could be just for the ballad, for a successful song. The text talks about the real story not being a good one for a ballad.

But there is so much emotion and magic in that scene. What is he thinking? What is he feeling?

Of course you know about what happens next, Essi's heartbreaking end, and Dandelion's crushing grief. She dies of smallpox during an epidemic. Dandelion is there. Did he go as soon as he heard? Was he visiting her expecting some lovely evenings singing around a fire and found her dead?

However it happened, Dandelion does not leave her to die alone. He does not turn tail and leave, avoiding smallpox. He literally carries the cold dead corpse of this woman he loves, who he sees as his sister, in his arms...

...Dandelion had carried her out in his arms between corpses being cremated on funeral pyres and had buried her far from the city, in the forest, alone and peaceful...

He buries her alone with his own hands! Oh how his heart must have shattered. It is moments like that, that you see the deeper, kinder, even (dare I say) noble side of the vain, braggadocios, whorish bard.

It goes on to say that Dandelion could have changed the song at any point to be a true version (the one where Essi dies), but he never did.

No, Dandelion stuck with his first version. And he never sang it. Never. To no one. Sword of Destiny p 246

Yeah.

To me there is a story about a young girl who cares enough for ten people, who has a huge heart, and a deep soul. A fearless girl who feels things too big for her to handle for a man others call a monster. A girl whose voice is like an angel.

And then there is a story about a broken hearted poet who loved her (far more than Geralt did) and who wrote a song about a witcher and a poet and he never changed the words and never sang it to anyone.

And I wonder if he wasn't writing that ballad about a witcher and a different poet entirely.

*sob*

#the witcher #geralt of rivia #dandelion #geraskier #jaskier #gerlion #essi daven #the witcher books #thinking about the witcher books yet again #thinking about dandelion yet again

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shadowwolflady · 4 months

Text

Hawks Headcanons

Because I hyperfixate, and write, I have compiled a list of what Keigo/Hawks is like in my head. This is so I can reference it back and not keep changing things in the stories. I like consistency.

So, here we go, the list of head canons that I have for my beloved boy.

General

Yes, he has flown into a window. No he will not admit it.

Hawks can’t cook. He is used to microwave meals and quick meals like eggs, pancakes, bacon, ramen, spaghetti, and the like. Hence his love for chicken.

He has collapsed into bed without removing his gear more times than he would care to admit.

He is a bookworm. He loves to read. It’s one of his escapes.

His preferred genre is adventure, action, fantasy. Picture lotr, or noble knights doing good for their kingdom.

He likes to game. I would think Assassins creed, Witcher, LoZ, maybe even pokemon. He's not a hard-core gamer, but he dabbles in it.

He will zone out in a warm shower.

He loves sitting up high and looking at the stars and sky. His favorite place is the Kyushu tower.

He loves peace and quiet. It helps to calm his mind and allows him to think without outside stimuli.

His favorite pastime is allowing his mind to wander.

If he finds anything interesting or that he likes, he will research it to death.

He has RAD, depression, ADHD, hypervigilance, and hyper independence. Most of these are due to the upbringing of the commission. He also has abandonment issues. He hates leaving anything unfinished.

He DOES NOT trust people; this is due to the Commission. He always believes people are two faced. Even if people believe they are close to him, they really aren’t.

He has many layers to him. He is very complex. Most of the layers are barriers meant to keep people out and away.

He is insanely smart, despite acting oblivious.

He catches on quickly. Quick learner.

He has standards and morals, despite being morally grey.

Despite having rigorous training to control his features when emotions hit, some do slip. These micro-movements are specifically his wings and feathers. Puffing up, roosting, sharpening. These will give away his thoughts and feelings while his face is neutral. Only those close to him really notice it.

He has a mouth, and he uses it. It gets him into trouble. His wings and feathers usually get him out of it.

He will shut down and recharge after strenuous missions. This is the time when he likes to be alone and decompress, mostly sleep.

He has a soft spot for animals. He likes cats and dogs. He would love to have one day, but with his changing schedule, it would be hard to keep them. So, he sticks to the strays and the neighbors’ pets.

He would rather deal with kids than adults. Kids are much easier to deal with and honest vs adults who are shady and two-faced.

Despite being a ray of happy sunshine in public, Hawks is actually fairly quiet.

Hawks gets even quieter when tired. And it is noticeable. He doesn’t want to use the energy he has left. He also doesn’t want to say anything he would regret later. His filter is usually less during this time and he may say something that would sound mean when in reality it isn’t.

Despite being fast and quick, he is relatively patient. He doesn’t mind waiting, as long as it is for something he likes.

While praise is nice, from outsiders, it isn’t rewarding. But from someone he knows is genuine, then that is something.

Telling him thank you always makes him smile. Gratitude goes a long way with him.

He has Endeavor merch, but not as much as you think. A couple of t-shirts, a poster, and signed photo, plus a figure or two. But not a whole wall or closet filled.

Hawks is the kind of guy who is self-conscious about his wings. It has always been about his wings and what he can do, never him. He doesn’t like it when people see him and his wings or as his wings. He would rather have someone who can separate the two, and just see him as a human rather than his wings.

He sometimes uses his wings to his advantage and tries to make his personal bubble a little bigger.

His earrings are a sign of rebellion against the commission. Basically, saying you can’t control me or my body to them by doing it.

He would duck out of a massive party any chance he got. Whether it would be saying his partner was tired or phone call or whatever. He gets slightly overstimulated in large crowds, on the count of his wings picking up vibrations constantly, along with his wings also being big and not the best at keeping himself small and unnoticed.

Now for the fun random bits!

Hygiene

He smells like Marble. Beneath ozone and coffee.

He uses 3 in 1 body and shampoo when in a rush. But on days off he actually uses different soap and shampoo.

When in a hurry, he will usually shed his feathers so he can dry faster.

Hairbrush? What's that? He rarely styles his hair or brushes it. Usually one or two swipes with his hand and he's good.

Mint or spearmint toothpaste.

Quick rinse with mouthwash.

Food

He has a sweet tooth. He LOVES sweet coffee.

His go to is always chicken.

He is more of a savory kind of person.

He is a glutton when it comes to the food he loves.

Alcohol

He isn't an alcoholic. He drinks socially. He may have a beer or ale or cider every now and then, but he really doesn't drink. At parties he will have a wine or champagne. If it is a fancier party then a scotch, bourbon, or whiskey. Sometimes he will have a shot of sake.

Work and workplace

He is the kind of guy to give his employees merch as gifts. He will if he really doesn’t know what to get them.

He usually pawns new merch to try on his employees for feedback.

He does get to know his employees.

Sleep

He sleeps on his stomach or side. It is hard to sleep on his back with his wings, but he does sometimes. It is just uncomfortable. And gets wing cramps when he falls asleep with his wings bunched up.

He will sometimes shed most if not all of his feathers to sleep on his back.

His bedding is soft and fluffy. He has multiple pillows. He loves snuggling under his covers and duvet cover.

He is a pillow hugger. He loves his body pillows.

He sleeps in a loose t-shirt and boxers. Usually. He will sometimes go for sweatpants and a long sleeve shirt when it gets colder.

He is a furnace. He radiates heat.

I have more. Let me know if anyone would like the other lists.

This guy lives in my mind rent free... I do have a love/hate relationship with him.

#bnha hawks #hawks #mha hawks #hawks headcanons #takami keigo #keigo takami #mha takami keigo #bnha keigo #mha #mha headcanons

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samstree · 1 year

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Jaskier hates sweet things, and Geralt loves them. It’s why they work well together.

“It’s why we work well together!” Jaskier exclaims, pushing his dessert plate towards Geralt. He’s only taken one spoonful of the cherry pie, made a face and declared it too sweet for his taste. “I hate sweets, and you love them—don’t try to deny me, dear. I’ve seen the way you look at the pastry stands when no one is watching.”

“Hmm.” Geralt’s cherry pie is long gone, and his mouth waters at the sight of Jaskier’s piece. “It’s yours. You paid for it.”

“Actually, my performance paid for both of our dinners.” Jaskier winks. “But as you can see, it’s become a burden for me, as I cannot stand anything with so much as a layer of frosting.”

Geralt is not, and that is more than enough. “I don’t need a second dessert, Jask,” he says. “Witchers can live on very little food.”

“But you’d be doing me a favor.” Jaskier bats his eyelashes. “Please? My gorgeous witcher, my brave champion, my most generous lover—”

“Fine,” Geralt interrupts, taking up his spoon. “Don’t finish the thought.”

Jaskier giggles, sitting back to watch Geralt eat. “It’s a saying even. They say a couple only works if one likes the food the other hates. This way, if it comes up on the dinner table, one can finish it for the other.”

It’s a cheeky saying, one that is definitely just been invented by Jaskier himself.

The pie is good though. The cherries add a hint of tartness to the cream frosting. Geralt chews slowly, letting the sweetness pop in his mouth. He closes his eyes with the last bite, and only opens them slowly afterward.

“Is it good?”

Jaskier watches Geralt with a quiet smile, his hand reaching forward on the table, his palm facing up. Geralt takes it and squeezes gently.

“It’s…sweet,” he answers, belly full and content.

It seems to satisfy Jaskier enough to press a tiny kiss on Geralt’s scarred knuckles.

“See?” Jaskier preens. “We work well together.”

☆

For some reason, Jaskier keeps buying sweets for himself.

The two lemon cakes are freshly baked, wrapped in paper and drizzled with honey, the warm aroma wafting through the busy marketplace. It reminds Geralt of a snowy day at Kaer Morhen, with the fireplace burning bright.

Jaskier holds them to his nose and takes a sniff, only to shove them into Geralt’s hands.

“Too sweet,” Jaskier says, pouting. “Finish them for me?”

Geralt sighs. “You can just not buy them.”

“Thought I wanted one, and now I don’t.” Jaskier shrugs. “Anyway, it’s good you’re here, so you can take care of them for me, dear. Meet me later?”

With that, Jaskier disappears into the crowd, leaving Geralt with the two cakes. They do look good, so he takes a bite, and then another.

He wouldn’t normally spend coin on luxuries such as fancy cakes, and whatever food he does purchase would be rationed carefully. Being on the road with a human calls for caution, as Jaskier is not nearly as sturdy as a witcher when it comes to on-and-off meals. Geralt always saves extra for him.

Which makes sweets the only indulgence he has. It’s okay. Jaskier hates sweet things so much he’d never eat them anyway.

The honey is sticky on Geralt’s fingers. He makes sure to lick the last of it clean.

☆

Lettenhove bustles with the laughter of children. Every year they come back, there seem to be a dozen more of them. The extended family welcomes them with warm hugs, with Jaskier’s parents giving the tightest one.

Jaskier looks exhausted from traveling, but as soon as his nieces and nephews hug him on the leg, he seems to melt into a puddle all over again. The children drag him off to play games in the courtyard, and he can never say no to that.

Geralt can only shake his head and head straight to the kitchen. Jaskier skipped lunch to get here sooner, and the kids will soon run him ragged, so naturally, Geralt needs to fetch him something solid for later.

He encounters more cousins and uncles on the way, who all pat him on the back warmly. It’s still unreal to think the Pankratzes have just accepted Geralt as a member of the family. Even years later, it still takes a moment to wrap his head around the fact.

The smell of freshly baked biscuits comes from the kitchen, rich with caramel and butter.

“Oh, Geralt!” Mira, Jaskier’s older sister exclaims when she finds him in the doorway, her eyes as blue as Jaskier’s, full of a big smile. “How was your travel? Good weather, I hope?”

“Good,” Geralt nods. “The road was easy. Jaskier was missing you, so we didn’t rest today.”

“Well, we missed him too, and you, of course.” Mira always manages to soften Geralt, putting him at ease. “You both must be so hungry. All that witchering must be hard, you look much thinner, Geralt. I’m sure it’s the same with Julian. It’s good timing! The biscuits are just done. I made his favorite, made it extra sweet with caramel just for our Julian.”

Geralt blinks, confused. “For who?”

“Who else has the biggest sweet tooth in Lettenhove? Of course it’s my baby brother, your Jaskier.” Mira turns to put the biscuits into a plate, amused by fond memories. “He used to sneak into the kitchen at night just for the candied fruits we keep for the holidays. It’s embarrassing how long he kept it up, even right before we sent him off to university.”

In the distance, Geralt can hear Jaskier’s voice, playing with the children and laughing loudly.

Geralt takes the plate from Mira, and stares for a moment.

☆

The biscuits, as it turns out, are decimated instantly by the children.

Only crumbs are left on the plate by the time Jaskier walks up behind the kids, his cheeks flushed and hair a mess.

“How’s the family treating you, dear?” Jaskier asks, equal parts amused and sympathetic. “Not overwhelmed by them? I have to apologize if you are. The Pankcratzes are an overwhelming people. It just can’t be helped, as you see.” He spread his arms dramatically, gesturing to the kids running around behind him, with biscuit crumbs on their chins. “But we do try to overwhelm you with love!”

“Yes,” Geralt muses quietly, a familiar mushy feeling spreading through his chest. “That you do, Jaskier.”

Geralt isn’t sure what expression he’s making, but it must be worrying enough. Jaskier steps closer with a serious face.

“What is it?” A frown creeps up on Jaskier’s brow. “Is anything wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong.” Geralt holds the empty plate tightly, shaking his head. “Mira knew this would happen and saved a few biscuits in the kitchen. They are made extra sweet, with caramel.”

Something flickers in Jaskier’s eyes. It’s subtle, barely there, a flash of excitement that appears out of instinct but is suppressed quickly.

It’s something Geralt should have seen long ago.

Jaskier, he realizes, is a sweet tooth.

Has been this whole time.

“It sounds lovely.” Jaskier nudges Geralt on the elbow. “Do you want to go and try it? Go then! Mira must be dying to feed you after seeing you’ve gotten thin, and—oh, Geralt, what are you doing?”

Within a heartbeat, Geralt has taken Jaskier into his arm, kissing him passionately. It’s awkward with him still holding the plate, and Jaskier’s youngest niece, Issy, makes a disgusted noise, but Geralt can’t find it in his heart to care.

He kisses Jaskier until the bard has to pull away with a flustered smile, his hands holding onto Geralt’s shoulder for balance. Jaskier’s cheeks have gone wonderfully red, his eyes shining with love.

“What, um,” Jaskier clears his throat. “What was that for? Not that I’d ever complain.”

Geralt stares into those cornflower blue eyes he’s known for years, and finds a new way to fall in love all over again. “I got a little…” he answers, exhaling deeply, “overwhelmed.”

“Oh,” Jaskier breathes. “In a good way?”

“Very.” Geralt kisses Jaskier’s nose one last time before letting him go. “Do you want to come with me? Try Mira’s biscuits. Just this once. Maybe you’ll like it.”

“But I don’t—”

“Please?” Geralt looks at Jaskier pleadingly. He knows Jaskier won’t say no to that look. “For me?”

Jaskier beams, his grin spreading impossibly wide, looking stupidly happy.

“Alright,” Jaskier agrees chirpily, taking Geralt’s arm. “You know I’d do anything for you, but you are being unreasonably amiable today. What’s gotten into you?”

Geralt lets Jaskier wraps himself around his side as they return to the kitchen, the rich scent of caramel filling his lungs once again. It seeps into his core, indistinguishable from the ever-growing affection he feels for Jaskier.

“Just,” Geralt says finally, voice hushed like it’s a secret, “I find you sweet, is all. The sweetest.”

Luckily, Geralt loves sweet things.

#geraskier #geraskier fic #fluff #established relationship #my spirit is hardened and yet my fic is soft #it's a problem really

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