#but jaskier is patient and loves him

[samstree]

The bandage comes off, and Geralt sees the scar for the first time in a mirror on Jaskier’s desk. His face is blurry in the reflection, but the jagged, angry thing is unmistakable, running across his left eye and reaching the middle of his cheek. A souvenir, from the cockatrice’s claw.

“Fitting look,” Geralt murmurs, “for a monster.”

Perhaps it’s the lingering ache in his body, the discomfort of the half-healed scar, or the blood loss he hasn’t quite recovered from, but the sentence slips out. Geralt didn’t mean for it to happen—he’s learned not to in Jaskier’s presence, even if he whispers the truth in the darkest corners of his mind.

“Do you know what I’d do to those who dare to use that word on you?” Jaskier warns, taking Geralt’s arm and guiding him back to the bed. He towers over Geralt like this, lips pressed into a thin line. “The barkeep the other day? Ran off with a broken nose. That rude Baron at court? The old sod no longer has a court. Some dirt came out. He got chased out of his own land and left penniless, last I heard.” He recounts patiently, voice flat. “A student of mine attempted a cheeky joke once. He was near crying when he left my office. If not, the thirty-page additional essay on the history of nonhumans would have done it.”

Jaskier holds himself tall and proud, the stone-cold protectiveness behind his eyes an impenetrable wall. Geralt suddenly feels a little scared. Just a little bit, but enough for him to fall in love all over again.

“Hmm.” Geralt looks up, catching Jaskier’s piercing eyes. “What punishment shall I receive, then?”

Jaskier only studies him, squinting hard. The serious expression makes Geralt think he is about to get another lecture on not putting himself down, and he silently braces for it. An angry dressing-down from Jaskier is no joke. The teenage boy at Oxenfurt had no idea what hit him.

But Geralt’s breath catches when Jaskier lifts his chin with one finger. A gentle kiss lands on his eyebrow, right where the claw mark begins.

The scar tissue tingles under Jaskier’s soft lips, oversensitive but not painful. Geralt closes his eyes as Jaskier trails down, peppering small kisses on his eyelid, and then along the shape of the scar. When their lips meet, the kiss remains chaste. Jaskier simply kisses him softly, again, and again, until Geralt is breathless with emotions.

Jaskier pulls away after what feels like a lifetime, humming contently. He still observes Geralt with a defiant look.

“There. Fitting punishment,” he whispers, “for you.”

Jaskier’s finger slips away, and Geralt is left woozy for a long time. The scar now feels too tender, but for completely different reasons.

It must still be the blood loss, he reckons.

#geraskier #geraskier fic #downside of this #now geralt has learned the wrong lesson #he will be using this to get kissies

[fangirleaconmigo]

I've been going through some of your posts about Geralt and Dandelion's friendship in the books recently because... well I'm back in my book/game phase I guess and I really wanted to know if there are any other Dandelion friendships you like from the books and why? Like him and Zoltan or with the other Hansa etc? [Personally I'm a big fan of what little we see of him with Regis and it always makes me weepy that he wrote a biography about him in the games and fondly remarks abt him smelling like herbs all the time]

Awww yayy thanks for spending some time on the ol blog. I absolutely love this question. I don't get to talk enough about Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy, and his relationship with Dandelion (for the newbies, that is Jaskier's name in the books) is so lovely.

Dandelion and Friendships

For those who are just joining us, Tea is talking about my series about Geralt and Dandelion's friendship in the books.

I have also written posts about Dandelion's friendships with Ciri and Zoltan:

Dandelion and Ciri

Dandelion and Zoltan

And for this post, I'll focus on Regis and Dandelion's friendship, which I absolutely love.

Dandelion and Regis Friendship (books)

What really strikes me about Regis and Dandelion, is just how patient and kind Regis is with Dandelion. Sometimes it is almost like he’s dealing with a child he cares about. Considering Regis’s age (over four centuries old), Dandelion (approx in his thirties when they meet) IS a child. 

On top of that, Dandy’s personality is rife with traits often associated with kids:

insatiable curiosity to the point where he endangers his own life, (when they go into the forest or sea, Geralt has to essentially, follow right behind him like you would a toddler),

hyper enthusiasm about every discovery he makes, (he whispers in awe when he sees mandrake for the first time, that’s just how he reacts to everything new)

his inability to censor himself or stop asking questions even when everyone else wants him to shut up (he will ask until he understands, no matter the social cues happening)

the way he will act incredibly transparent and awkward while thinking he is being subtle and smooth

Perhaps that is why Regis seems to be so indulgent of him. And somehow their personalities just fit naturally.

Regis’s most annoying trait is to lecture people at length like a professor and cut people off who are asking a question, since he is too eager to answer it. The vampire loves to hold forth on a topic.

Dandelion’s annoying trait (one of many, bless, we know he can't keep it in his pants either) is to ask questions incessantly. In that way, they really kind of fit together. 

Geralt loses patience when Dandelion is being socially inappropriate by asking too many questions. Geralt really values discretion and manners.

Regis is more willing to spend time explaining things and to open up.

Early in the hansa's time together, (before he manages to surprise folks several times over) Dandelion is often seen as the one who is in way over his head. Everyone else is a warrior or a soldier. Dandelion is the soft one. To add to the indignity, Geralt is angry at him during Baptism of Fire because Dandelion keeps forcing him to make friends (well, to ask for help)

Yet Regis, the new guy, is the one who always makes sure Dandelion isn't embarrassed or ashamed.

Here’s a few examples.

When Dandelion is given a bloody head wound by an arrow, the poet is howling and shrieking. He thinks he's dead already. He is not a stoic man. It is played comedically, but Geralt is also legitimately terrified that he will lose Dandelion. That bit is not played comedically.

But given the circumstances, the rest of them could be forgiven for rolling their eyes at the poet's dramatics.

But Regis (who is treating his wounds as the resident barber surgeon) does not.

Regis speaks to him so soothingly, and kindly. (I am omitting the Geralt dramz because I will get off topic lol)

Dandelion groaned and took a sharp intake of breath....

“I’ll put in a few stitches,” Regis said...”Be brave, Dandelion.”

Dandelion was brave.

“Almost done here,” Regis said, setting about bandaging the victim’s head. “Don’t you worry, Dandelion, you’ll be right as rain. The wound’s just right for a poet, Dandelion. You’ll look like a war hero, with a proud bandage around you head, and the hearts of the maidens looking at you will melt like wax. Yes, a truly poetic wound....”

And when it is revealed that Regis is a vampire, and Dandelion is afraid of him, Regis is incredibly patient and kind about the whole thing. He does not take offense. Geralt does! (Ironic, considering Geralt ran Regis off, but Geralt, bless, is dealing with a clusterfuck of feelings about the vampire and everything else going on in his life.)

But yes, after Geralt tells Dandelion about Regis, Dandelion is scared, and wants to seek reassurance. But the poet (unbeknownst to him it seems) is awkward and bad at it. He tries to bring up the issue with the subtlety of a sledge hammer.

Dandelion...deciding to clear up the uncertainty..began as soon as they set off. With his usual tact.

(I like that. His usual tact. Meaning, zero tact lmaoooooo.)

“Milva,” he suddenly called as they were riding, sneaking a glance at the vampire as they were riding, sneaking a glance at the vampire. “...I fancy eating a hunk of real meat for a change! How about you, Regis?”

Yeah. Real subtle Dandelion.

“I beg your pardon?’ the vampire said, lifting his head from the horse’s neck. 

“Meat!” the poet repeated emphatically. “...fancy some fresh meat?”

“Yes, I do.”

“And blood. Would you like some fresh blood?”

“Blood?” Regis asked, swallowing. “No. I’ll decline the blood. But if you have a taste for some, feel free.”

Geralt, Milva and Cahir observed an awkward, sepulchral silence.

I love that. Awkward sepulchral silence. Dandelion causes a lot of those. But Regis does not dismiss him or laugh. He reassures him.

“I know what this is about, Dandelion,” Regis said slowly, “And let me reassure you. I’m a vampire, but I don’t drink blood.”

The silence became as heavy as lead. But Dandelion wouldn’t have been Dandelion if he had remained silent.

But Dandelion wouldn’t have been Dandelion if he had remained silent. (sorry I am laughing every other line at this part)

“You must have misunderstood me,” he said, seemingly lightheartedly. “I didn’t mean-”

“I don’t drink blood,” Regis interrupted. “...I gave it up.”

Dandelion doesn’t know what that means and keeps pestering Regis to explain. Geralt is embarrassed and tells Dandy to shut up.

However, Regis opens up around the camp fire that night. He tells his life story, and says he hasn’t drank blood in fifty years. Dandelion is incredulous. 

“Not at all?” Dandelion said, and stuttered. But his curiosity got the best of him. “Not at all? Never? But...?”

Geralt is embarrassed again and shuts him down again. Regis, by contrast, is patient and defends Dandelion.

“I beg your pardon,” the poet grunted.

“Don’t apologize,” the vampire said placatingly, “And Geralt, don’t chasten him. I understand his curiosity.”

Baptism of Fire 291-295

That's right. Don't chasten him Geralt.

Regis and Dandelion also just have a wonderful dynamic of picking on each other.

Dandelion teases Regis about his long ass name.

And Regis has a great time teasing Dandelion lovingly. In one scene, Geralt and Regis team up to pick on Dandelion and the secretive way he treats his writing. Dandelion has stolen some paper and pencil from a Lyrian military convoy and is writing whenever they make camp, but gets testy whenever anyone gets near him or looks at his manuscript.

Geralt is good-naturedly giving Dandelion a hard time and Regis jumps in with such adorable relish. (Also, in this scene, we find out that Regis actually named Dandelion's memoirs)

"Indeed," the witcher joined in...."You've become devilishly touchy, Dandelion. One cannot fail to notice that it is somehow connected to the paper which you have recently begun to deface with a bit of lead while we camp." “It’s true,” Regis agreed, “our minstrel has become touchy, not to say secretive, discreet, and loving of solitude recently. Oh no, having witnesses when performing his natural needs doesn't bother him at all...His shameful secrecy and oversensitivity to being watched extends solely to his scribbled notes. Is, perhaps, a poem being written in our presence? A rhapsody? And epic? A romance? A canzone?”

He's like, you don't care who sees you piss and shit, but oh this you care about. lol. Tell us about the poem. But Geralt objects.

“No,” Geralt retorted...”I know him. It can’t be verse, because he’s not cursing, mumbling, or counting the syllables on his fingers. He’s writing in silence, so it must be prose.”

“Prose!” The vampire flashed his pointed fangs - which he really tried not to do. “A novel perhaps? Or an essay? A morality play? Dammit, Dandelion! Don’t torture us so! Reveal what you are writing?”

Dandelion says it is a memoir called Fifty Years of Poetry. Regis says that A Half Century of Poetry sounds better.

“Thanks, Regis, Something constructive at last.”

P 88 -90 The Tower of the Swallow

I admit I'm such a sucker (hehe no pun intended) for whenever Regis's fangs are mentioned, whether he is hiding them, baring them, or unselfconsciously showing them during a warm, silly moment with his friends. (Sobs, I love this vampire, seriously I need an intervention)

Regis also comforts Dandelion openly when the poet is doubting his courage or fitness for a task.

Later in the book, Geralt volunteers for a bloody job/violence for hire that terrifies Dandelion, so the poet protests the plan. Geralt insists he’ll do it alone.

But no! He has a hansa now! He won't be alone! Angoulême volunteers to go. Cahir says he’s coming with as well. Then Milva insists she is coming.

Dandelion freezes.

It would be like the LOTR ‘and my bow and my axe’ yadda yadda scene, but if there was one person left and when it got to them, everyone turned around and looked and they are just standing there frozen like....motherfuck this is scary idk idk wtf do I do. And the way this next paragraph is written, it pleases me.

Dandelion...was evidently struggling with his thoughts. And the thoughts were winning.

lmaooo

And Regis jumps in "kindly." He shows solidarity with Dandelion, and takes the heat by calling himself a coward.

“Stop meditating, poet,” Regis said kindly. For there’s nothing to be ashamed of. You’re even less cut out to participate in a bloody swordfight than I am. We weren’t taught to carve up our neighbors with a blade. Furthermore...furthermore..,” he raised shining eyes towards Geralt and Milva, “I’m...a coward,” he confessed curtly.

They keep arguing amongst themselves because Geralt believes they have been spied on. And Regis is just...always soft with Dandelion. When Dandelion starts guessing about who is spying on them, and is beginning to ramble incorrectly,

“You’re mistaken, Dandelion,” Regis softly interjected.

The Tower of the Swallow p 182

It's Regis's gentleness that just fuckn kills me. That's always the character that's gonna get me right between the ribs with a shank. (Metaphorically, Regis is too gentle for that)the one that lives in a horror filled, violent, cruel world and is still just kind, even to the loud, awkward, soft, obnoxious poet who is in over his head and is afraid you'll bite him in his sleep and who shrieks when he is wounded.

Geralt and Dandelion are so sassy and old/married with each other, deeply, proudly loving in actions, but always bickering.

It's sweet to see Dandelion have a friendship like the one he has with Regis.

It is so nice to hear that the games continued his love of Regis. (I haven't played them, so I get my info about them from you guys XD)

So thanks again for following me and for the ask! I hope I've done ok answering. I also love Dandy's dynamic with Nenneke and ofc Yen, but I'll stop there.

Hope your week goes really well. x

#the witcher #emiel regis #dandelion #jaskier #the witcher books #emiel regis rohellec terzieff godefroy #thinking about the witcher books yet again #thinking about dandelion yet again

[annmarcus63]

It's unconventional to live with a terminal illness for a long time. Jaskier, of course, has always been unconventional. Barely a year after meeting Geralt, Jaskier began to taste perfume on his tongue. Not long after, he began to pick out delicate little petals from between his teeth. But he gave it no thought, the perfume and the petals meant fresh flowery breath. Some maidens compliment his hygiene in comparison with the rotten breath of her husbands. Things became worrying when he woke up one night gasping, something was in his throat, he stuck his fingers inside to pried the petal out, a full yellow petal followed by a string of spit. Jaskier is filled with fear and denial which prompt him to search for a healer in the next village he visits with Geralt.

I need supplies, he said. I can get them for you, the witcher offered. No! thank you darling but you wouldn't know what kind of strings and scented oils I require to be this talented and fetching, the bard lied. The healer said he got hanahaki disease at an early stage. There's no cure but to give up the love he had for that person. But how could he? Love is not meant to be controlled or selective. Days after, Geralt saved a girl from the claws of some sick bandits that kidnapped her one week before, he was kind and patient with her, even if she couldn't stop crying to tell them where she lives. In that moment Jaskier concluded that he'd die for loving Geralt.

Years on, the disease grows to full flowers and the occasional stems that irritates his throat. He uses the flowers as decoration on his outfits, sometimes weaving them into crowns or into Roach's mane. Acacias, Lilies, Orchids and chrysanthemums, Dahlias, Freesias and some others he doesn't recognize. After a while he can make full bouquets to gifted to Geralt, he washes the blood and spit first of course. The witcher grimaces but accepts them with no complaints. Yennefer and him had a fight over telling Geralt or getting away to find someone else. You want him all to yourself, Jaskier yells. Don't be an idiot, you'd die!, the witch screams back. What is it to you? I'll die sooner or later anyways.

He weaves flowers in Ciri's hair too. It's not until the flowers begin to clog his airways that he knows he's almost there. He doesn't have much time. Geralt notices and he's worried, he confronts the bard about it too many times but Jaskier doesn't tell him. He's pale and weak the day he faints next to Geralt. The truth is revealed, Geralt is furious and feels betrayed but most of all is scared of losing Jaskier. Geralt offers to go on dates with him, to court him and make an effort. So you can forget them, he says, forget them and love me. Oh, darling, that's the problem, says Jaskier with tears in his eyes.

#geraskier #jaskier #the witcher #geralt of rivia #geralt x jaskier #hanahaki disease #mine #I need hanahaki disease fanfics to be happy #tag me if you know one #also is there someone here who speaks spanish and is willing to share their geraskier obsession with me #i need friends as crazy as me #the witcher netflix

[starfirewildheart]

Chapter 3

The Wolf and the Flame

Summary: Geralt had just found Ciri and was headed to Kaer Morhen when something drew him into the woods. He found a woman near death and things changed for them all. (I suck at summaries just read please!) Yennefer is bad in the start of this but she and Geralt work on their friendship. Eskel is a dick at first but there is a reason and it works out. Will have a happy ending. Ciri is younger here than in the netflix show. She is about 12.

Warnings: abuse history, injuries, hurt comfort, no one under 18 to be safe, will add when I need to 

Words: 1717

They had been traveling for nearly a week. Naurel was getting stronger but Geralt was still worried. He knew something was not as it should be with her but he couldn't seem to get her to open up about the things that had happened. They came to the last city between them and the final part of the journey to Kaer Morhen. He knew they had to stop and restock supplies. Also, the humans needed a soft bed and warmth for a bit. They left the horses at the stable and walked over to the Inn. Naurel was leaning against him, holding his arm to help support herself or for his warmth, he wasn’t sure which. All he knew was that he didn’t mind it. In fact, he felt at peace when they were touching. 

Ciri heard someone singing inside the bar at the inn and bound up the steps. “It’s Jaskier,” she said excitedly. 

“Ciri,” Gerault sighed as she ran inside ahead of him. “Damn it that girl never listens.” He and  Naurel moved faster to catch up with her. Once inside Geralt grabbed Ciri’s arm and leaned close, whispering something to her that made her shiver and look repentant before he led her and Naurel to a table to sit. “Stay here where I can see you both while I get us a couple of rooms.” 

Naurel waited until he walked away to put her hand on Ciri’s arm that was resting on the table. “You are going to get hurt or end up making him so angry that he’s going to punish you.”

Ciri rolled her eyes. “Please, he’s not my father. I have no family which makes me an adult. I’m in charge of me.”

“You are far from an adult little miss and you are showing that childishness more and more by the day,” Naurel warned. “He cares about you. He worries about you. Stop making it harder for him.” She knew that Geralt was struggling to figure out how to deal with a child. He knew how to deal with a misbehaved witcher but not a young human girl so he just took what she dished out. The yelling, arguing, not listening, stubbornness that she likely got away with as a spoiled little princess and Naurel was losing patients with her. Ciri was a loving girl but she was being a huge brat. She looked up at Geralt as he sat heavily in a chair beside her, noting that he put himself where his back would be up against the wall. “Everything alright?”

He nodded. “Got two rooms with an adjoining door,” he eyed Ciri, “and a large tub.” He grinned when Naurel sighed happily. 

“Mmm, a bath sounds heavenly. Maybe if I boil myself I will actually heat my blood and stop having to steal your warmth,” she smiled at him. 

He reflexively pulled her close. “I don’t mind sharing warmth.”

Ciri made a slight gagging sound drawing their attention. “You two need to get a room.”

“We have a room. Two in fact,” Geralt smirked at her. He loved their teasing banter when she wasn’t driving him mad with worry. Naurel was listening to the two of them and jumped when someone plopped down in a chair near her at the end of the table.

“Geralt you gorgeous beast, who are you lovely friends?”

Geralt shook his head and sighed. “Jaskier,” he nodded in greeting. He let Naurel and Ciri introduce themselves though kept his arm possessively around Naurel. Jaskier was a friend but he was also amorous and for some reason that bothered him where his newest companion was concerned.

“How did two such lovely creatures end up with such a grumpy, silent companion?” Jaskier wondered. 

“He’s not silent nor grumpy,” you smiled at the bard. 

“He’s grumpy and bossy,” Ciri teased. 

The waitress approached and Geralt ordered food for the three of them before joining the conversation. “I’m surprised to find you this far north this close to the snowy season.  I know you hate cold weather.”

“You are right,” Jaskier chuckled. “Oddly enough I’ve been looking for you. You are a very hard witcher to find. You would think with the white hair, yellow eyes, and rippling muscles that you would stand out more.” Naurel chuckled.

“Jaskier,” Geralt grumbled, stopping the bard from babbling. “Why were you looking for me? Is everything alright?” 

“A friend, no, no she’s not a friend she’s a,” he stopped himself before he finished his thought. “Someone we have in common needs to speak with you. She’s rather insistent and very annoying and she keeps following me. I implore you, please speak to her before I throw myself off a cliff.”

Geralt paused as if he was considering the option of speaking to someone or letting him jump, only answering when Jaskier whined indignantly. He had an idea of who the bard was talking about but he wondered why she just didn’t come to him herself. He’d heard that she survived the battle of Sodden from Triss and he was happy to hear his friend was still alive. “Is she here?”

“I’m here,” Yennefer said from behind him. “We need to speak, alone,” she looked at the others pointedly. 

He nodded and stood. “Jaskier, stay with them until I return?”

“Of course,” he smiled as he started asking both of them questions.

Yennefer led Geralt to an out-of-the-way corner near the stairs. She noticed that he positioned himself so that he could still see the table. “I need your help. Something has happened. I’ve searched everywhere, through all the lore about magic and chaos except the books at Kaer Morhen.”

“What are you searching for?”

“A spell,” she lied. “I am searching for a spell to try and help Istredd study the monoliths.” She wasn’t going to expose her weakness to anyone. It was bad enough that the old woman was in her head calling to her, telling her to bring both the woman and the girl to her; she wasn’t about to tell him she had lost her ability to do magic as well.

“Why doesn’t that ring true to me?” Geralt gave her a look.

“Fine, don’t help me,” she hissed and started to walk away.

“Yennefer,” he stopped her. “Portal to Kaer Morhen. Vesemir is willing to work with sorceresses and mages. He will show you the books you are looking for.”

“Why don’t we just travel together?” she asked. “Seems like you seem to be gathering a rather large party on your journey,” she eyed his new friends. “I could help you look after them. They both seem sort of defenseless.”

He could use some help protecting them since Ciri seemed to be so dead set on getting herself hurt. Maybe with Yennefer’s magic, he could actually rest a bit. “You want to travel, on foot, in the cold. You know it will be snowing soon?”

“Please witcher, the weather does not bother me,” she scoffed and walked back to the group at the table. She made sure to place herself next to Naurel where Geralt had been. Jealousy made her blood boil when she noticed how Geralt looked at the woman. The witcher and his new child suprise were supposed to be her family, not this woman's. She was tired of life screwing her over and giving everyone else what was rightfully hers.

Geralt frowned but sat next to Ciri. “Yennefer has decided to join us for the rest of our journey home.” Naurel looked into his eyes in question but didn’t speak, Jaskier however did.

“I’m going to then,” he insisted.

“I thought you wanted to be rid of her?” Geralt asked.

“Rid of me?” Yennefer scoffed. “I saved your life.”

“No, you distracted him so I could run. That’s not saving me, that's being a tease,” Jaskier argued. Ciri laughed at the two of them.

Their food was served and Naurel picked a small piece off of her bread and ate it as she listened to Jaskier tell stories of his time with Geralt. The bard was funny and he had kind eyes. She liked him. She could see how he would get on Geralt’s nerves though with his knack for babbling and Geralt being stoic and quiet.

‘The redhead! Bring the red head’ the deathless mother screamed in her head over and over. It was becoming hard to ignore but she pushed it to the back of her mind and continued on with the conversation. “Awe you left out the story of how the three of us met,” Yennefer interjected. “All bloody and dying because of the Djinn. Geralt, ever the protector, riding in to find me to save you.” She saw the muscles in Geralt’s jaw flex as he clenched his teeth.

“Well, he ended up saving you too,” Jaskier snapped. “More than saving you if I remember correctly.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt sighed.

The bard looked up and quickly realized he’d said too much. “But he came to his senses!”

She closed the door behind her before laying on the bed next to her friend. “He thought she was dead,” she explained softly. She wanted to be sure she knew Geralt had not intentionally tried to hurt her though Ciri never realized that Yennefer and Geralt were mates.

“I know,” her voice choked as she lost her battle with her tears. “It’s my fault,” she repeated to herself more than Ciri. She took the comfort Ciri offered and allowed the young girl to play with her hair before she ran over to the chamber pot and vomited.

Wolf and flame tag list

@kneelforloki

@shellyshellshell

#geralt x reader #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill smut #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill fanfic

[thedemonofcat]

Enchanted Au: because why not

Once upon a time, in a fairy tale kingdom, resided a charming young man named Jaskier who dwelled in a quaint cottage within the forest. However, just as he was about to marry the gallant Prince, he was unexpectedly thrust into the real world through a magical well. Determined to find his way back, Jaskier embarks on a journey alongside Geralt, a Witcher whom he perceives as a noble knight destined to save him and Geralt's daughter, Ciri.

Uncertain about Jaskier's Prince coming to the rescue, Geralt seeks a way to return Jaskier to his fairy tale. Meanwhile, Jaskier's enchanting singing and fairy-tale charm captivate those around him, turning him into a beloved Bard while he patiently awaits his Prince.

Gradually, Geralt and Jaskier find themselves falling in love, as Jaskier's longing to remain in the real world intensifies with the arrival of more characters from his fairy tale. Among them is Jaskier's Prince. However, the ominous purpose behind Jaskier's arrival in the real world reveals itself.

#the witcher netflix #geralt of rivia #joey batey #the witcher #jaskier the witcher #henry cavill #the witcher jaskier #geralt x jaskier #geraskier #fic ideas #jaskier #gerskier #cirilla fiona elen riannon #freya allan #headcanon #yennefer of vengerberg #anya cholatra #the witcher season 3 #anya chalotra #the witcher season three #witcher yennefer #Jaskier is a Disney Princess

[ghostinthelibrarywrites]

23 for the prompts please? Yennskier or geraskefer

🌻🌸🌺🌷

Here's some fluffy modern AU Geraskefer:

23. “What’s cookin’, good lookin’?”

There’s a cozy scene waiting for Jaskier when he steps into his apartment. Geralt stands at the stove, stirring a pot of something that smells divine, while Roach waits patiently at his feet for a morsel to be dropped and Yennefer sits at the kitchen table, chopping herbs with swift efficiency. Jaskier takes a moment to stare soppily at his lovers while they're not looking—he knows better than to be overly sentimental while Yennefer is holding a sharp knife—before he shrugs off his coat and shoes and heads over to see what's for dinner.

“Sorry I’m late. Class ran over.” He comes up behind Geralt, giving Roach a pat before looping his arms around his witcher's waist and taking a deep breath of whatever's in the pot. “What's cookin’, good lookin’?”

Geralt leans back against him. “Endrega venom sacs.”

“Sounds deli—I'm sorry, what?"

"Endrega venom sacs,” Geralt says again.

“Yes, I heard you the first time. I still have questions.” Jaskier peers over his lover’s shoulder and finds that whatever's in the pot is disturbingly clumpy. “Why the fuck are you stewing endrega venom sacs?”

“Works better than baking them.”

"Eugh. And why does it smell so good?" Jaskier whines.

All that earns him is a shrug.

A horrible thought occurs to Jaskier. “We're not having endrega venom sacs for dinner, are we?” Early in their acquaintance, Geralt and he did have a small misunderstanding where Geralt thought it ridiculous that Jaskier wouldn’t consume roadkill raw off the side of the highway. But that was over a decade ago; surely Geralt remembers Jaskier’s delicate human constitution by now.

Yennefer snorts as Geralt turns to stare at Jaskier like he's being the ridiculous one. “Of course not. I distill the venom and sell it. They use it in facials now.”

Jaskier is never getting a facial again. “Wait, are you using our brand new pot?"

“Hm.”

“You are!” Jaskier turns to Yennefer for backup, but she's just smirking at him, because she enjoys the sight of his exasperation, the horrible witch. “Geralt, I got that pot specifically so we could have separate cookware for food and potions.”

“In his defense, he’s not making a potion,” Yennefer says.

Jaskier really doesn’t know why he loves her. “Do you want a repeat of the Black Blood poisoning incident from last year?”

“You didn’t have Black Blood poisoning,” Geralt says. “If you had had Black Blood poisoning, you’d be dead.”

“So it’s a coincidence that you made soup in the same pot where you'd just brewed a batch of Black Blood and then I spent the night sick as a dog?”

“Could have been the two-week-old takeout you ate because you convinced yourself the soup tasted weird.”

“Geralt, I could have died.”

“Hm.”

“Witchers.” Jaskier doesn’t know why he bothers. He crosses the kitchen to drape himself over the back of Yennefer’s chair, reaching for the pile on her cutting board. “And what do we have here?”

“Don’t eat it.” She brushes his hand away.

He pouts. “What, will this kill me too?”

“No, but it will make you wish it had.”

Jaskier backs away hurriedly. “Are you two trying to poison me tonight?”

Yennefer doesn’t turn towards him, but he can hear her eye roll. “We can’t be blamed for the fact that you’ll put anything in your mouth.”

Jaskier leers at the back of her head. “You don’t normally complain about what I do with my mouth.”

“I do when you're eating two-week-old Nilfgaardian food and complaining about it.”

Well, that’s just rude. Jaskier crosses his arms over his chest and huffs. “I’m a starving artist, my love. I need to make do with what I can afford.”

Geralt snorts. “Jask, you’re a viscount.”

“Only technically.”

“Your family has two castles.”

“Three castles if you count the villa in Toussaint,” Yennefer adds.

Jaskier hates it when they gang up on him. He really hates it when they gang up on him and they’re right. A change of subject is in order. “Well, we’re not eating venom sacs for dinner and we’re not eating scary witch herbs, so what’s for dinner?”

Geralt and Yennefer both turn to look at him with identical exasperated expressions. “It’s Wednesday,” Geralt says. “It’s your turn to handle dinner.”

Jaskier opens his mouth to protest, mentally reviews his calendar, and closes his mouth. “Ah. Right.”

Yennefer smiles at him oh-so-sweetly, like she only does when she knows she has him cornered. “So, what’s for dinner, Jaskier?”

Jaskier throws his arms around her neck, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “My darlings, my loves, I’ve spent all day agonizing over what meal I could possibly put in front of you that’s worthy of the two most magnificent people the Continent has ever seen.”

“Takeout again?” Geralt’s lips curl into a fond little smile.

“Takeout again,” Jaskier agrees. “But the most wonderful takeout you’ve ever feasted upon—”

“Better than your cooking,” Yennefer grumbles. “I’d rather have the endrega venom.”

“You only say that because I don’t know how to prepare the tears of the innocent.”

“Of course not. That would require boiling water, something you’ve yet to master.”

“You—”

In the end, Geralt ends up ordering the takeout while Yennefer and Jaskier debate the finer points of Jaskier’s cooking prowess. But it's okay. Jaskier will just have to handle dinner next week. Most likely.

***

Angst/fluff prompts

Tag list: @kueble @mollymawkwrites @feral-jaskier @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde @dawnofbards @thisislisa @tsukiwolf42 @mosaicscale @rockysstupidity @fontegagrilledcheese @kuripon @help-i-need-a-cool-username @julek @flowercrown-bard @eveljerome @ladykardasi

#the witcher #geraskefer #geralt x jaskier x yennefer #ghost's writing #prompt fills

[shy-urban-hobbit]

Hello! Are you still doing the 24 touch prompts? If yes, can I request 15 with Eskel and Jaskier, please?

Sorry for the wait!!! ❤️

Jaskier and Eskel 15 - gently kissing the others knuckles 😊.

“Just so you know, it feels really bizarre being on the other side of this particular scenario.” Jaskier commented as he gently manipulated a hand much larger than his own to better assess the damage.

One of the inn patrons had recognised Jaskier even without his usual, grumpy travel companion present. Usually this would be something to make the bard preen like the bird Geralt often compared him to but unfortunately, this same prick chose to heckle him throughout his entire set and then decided to start with the “Witcher’s whore” comments when he’d finished, which had Jaskier ready to give this already rather unbecoming fellow a broken nose to go with his sallow complexion (it wasn’t the insult itself per se, but Jaskier was no Saint and a man could only turn the other cheek so many times in one night). Until a semi familiar blur of black and red beat him to it, and that was apparently how Eskel decided to let the bard know that he was in town.

Luckily for them, the innkeeper saw the sense in not even trying to throw Jaskier out now that one of his non-human companions had made an appearance and hastily agreed that the other had bought it on himself, making no move to try and aid the now unconscious and bleeding man as Jaskier pulled Eskel up the stairs behind him, the Witcher stammering out half an apology although who exactly it was directed to, Jaskier couldn’t say.

That’s how they ended up in their current position in Jaskier’s room, both of them perched on the edge of the bed with Jaskier still keeping hold of Eskel’s hand as he leaned over to grab the small bottle of spirit he used as a disinfectant after proclaiming the others knuckles to be just grazed from the force of his punch.

“I could have told you that about ten minutes ago, Jaskier. It’ll be healed in a couple of hours.” Eskel stated.

“Oh, hush you. What would Geralt say if he found out I left his brother all hurt and bloody? Especially when it happened because he was defending my honour.” Jaskier proceeded to gently dab at the split skin across Eskel’s knuckles, seemingly unaware of how much effort it was taking his patient to not give into temptation and wrap his fingers around the smaller, softer hand in response.

“Like he’s never punched anyone for you before.”

Jaskier gave a huff of a laugh, “He doesn’t have to fight all my battles for me, and neither do you.” He paused to boop the end of Eskel’s nose, “I’m a big boy. I can deal with a few town assholes throwing insults at me. You didn’t have to get involved.”

“Hello Pot, have you met Kettle?” Eskel asked dryly, causing Jaskier to bluster slightly at being called out, “Just because you can doesn’t mean you have to.”

“Oh, I see how it is. It’s fine when you lot say that.” Jaskier smirked, “Done! And...you didn’t have to, but it doesn’t mean I’m not grateful that you did. Thank you for being so gallant, dear Witcher.”

 Eskel felt his face heat up as Jaskier pressed a kiss to his now treated knuckles like he was the love interest in one of those romance stories and not some huge, scarred Witcher,  “Seriously though. Can we get back to the usual dynamic between myself and Witchers? I’m not sure I’m entirely liking this role reversal.”

 

Eskel knocked on the doorframe after purposely making his footsteps louder to give ample warning but even so, Jaskier still flinched where he was sat on the examination table. Curling his now bandaged hands against his chest as best as he could seemingly on reflex.

“Ah, Eskel! Everything alright?” He asked with forced brightness.

“Something we should have asked you much sooner.”  He said gently as he came further into the room, trying to make himself look as small as he could and keeping his movements slow and deliberate. Between the torture and the imprisonment, the last thing he wanted was to make the bard feel trapped again, “May I?” He held a hand out palm upwards between them, leaving Jaskier the choice of whether to close the distance or not.

Jaskier hesitated before reaching out and placing one hand into Eskel’s, the Witcher running the ends of his fingers over skin and linen as delicately as if he were stroking a birds wing. He didn’t know every single detail but he knew enough from the very loud, very animated ‘discussion’ that had occurred between wolf, witch and bard earlier that day and has ended in Jaskier being dragged by the elbow to the infirmary.

“You didn’t tell him anything.”

The wonder in Eskel’s voice must have sounded too much like disbelief, as Jaskier shook his head rapidly in response, “Nothing. I promise I didn’t tell him anything about here, or Geralt, or Ciri. I-”

Eskel gently shushed him, feeling Jaskier's pulse jumping rabbit quick in his wrist underneath his fingers. He was suddenly struck by the desire to press a kiss to the tips of those poor, talented fingers but considering they were currently hidden away under layers of salve and bandage....

He brushed his lips against Jaskier’s knuckles, holding the gaze of wide, blue eyes as he did so and wondering briefly if the hitch in Jaskier’s breathing was a product of his imagination.

“Thank you for being so brave, dear bard.”

#the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #jaskier/eskel #jaskier x eskel #eskel/jaskier #eskel x jaskier #witcher eskel #eskel #witcher jaskier #jaskier

[readingnreccing]

Stop One Heart From Breaking by inexplicifics

the witcher | explicit | 43k | jaskier x geralt x eskel x lambert | complete | pack bonding 

Jaskier's been a ruined omega for six years now. He's been bought by more alphas than he cares to count, and sold on again; he knows how this works. Being bought by a witcher is a new level of terror...and then it turns out it's not just one witcher, but three. Jaskier is fairly sure he's going to die. And then it turns out that witchers really don't act much like human alphas at all.

This story is so wonderful and tender and loving. Jaskier is a "ruined omega" and sold in Omega auctions to whoever bids the highest and they can do whatever they want to him. Jaskier doesn't have much hope when it comes to alphas, in his experience they are all very violent. But then Geralt buys Jaskier from the auction and takes him to Lambert and Eskel. (Which just makes Jaskier even more worried, because now there's three alpha witchers). But the witchers are different from all alphas he has ever met. And they treat him well, respect him, protect him. And as much as Jaskier is afraid of trusting them, he feels safer than he's ever felt.

This story is so wonderful I don't even know what to say. Jaskier has Trauma, and his witchers are so good and loving and patient with him. Their relationship develops so well and honestly. It really is a feel good story. The hurt all happened prior to the story, and the whole fic is the comfort. (The smut is also super hot). - Also, all 4 of them are together, not just with Jaskier.

Author’s tags: Past Rape/Non-con, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Recovery, Cuddling & Snuggling, Kaer Morhen's Fanon Hot Springs (The Witcher), Explicit Sexual Content, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Pack Bonding, Omega Verse, Alternate Universe, Bathing/Washing

Remember to leave feedback to the author! <3

#the witcher #geraskier #jaskier x eskel x lambert x geralt #fic rec #jaskier #geralt of rivia #eskel #lambert #omegaverse #pack bonding #soft #protective character #polyamory #slow burn #canon divergent #e #10k 50k #complete #inexplicifics

[flowercrown-bard]

From the prompts list if you are still doing it. #10 Please - Always finding excuses to stay with each other with Geraskier. If not no worries. Thank you and have a great day.

Thank you for the prompt! Sorry it took me so long to get to it

Geralt didn't get it. A decade ago, perhaps it would have made sense, but after Blaviken? It didn't make any sense why a human would insist on staying with him. 

The first day, Geralt merely watched the bard with narrowed eyes, waiting for him to slip up and reveal the real reason why he kept following him. Waiting for the knife to be pulled on him. 

But of course, the bard didn't carry a knife and even if he did, he was more likely to hurt himself than to do any harm to Geralt.

So Geralt kept waiting.

Tomorrow, the bard would be gone. Surely. 

-

"I'm afraid Roach has nominated me as her new best friend and it would surely break her heart if I left," Jaskier said as he bribed the mare into showing some tolerance for him by sneaking her an apple. "You can't seriously expect me to hurt a lady's heart like that.

But just the day before, Geralt had returned to camp only to find Jaskier scolding Roach for chewing on his clothes and telling her that she was the most uncivilized horse on all the continent. There was no love lost between the two of them. So clearly, Jaskier was lying about the reason why he had to stay. 

Geralt just didn't know why. 

-

He still was there by the time the new week rolled around. Geralt could be a patient man. He had to be, for when he had to wait for hours until a monster showed up.

But this was grating on his nerves. It would have been easy to say that Jaskier was the thing aggravating him, but really it was the not-knowing, the not-understanding. 

So Geralt waited. He could be a patient man.

-

"There's truly nothing as convenient as having a traveling companion who can hunt for food," Jaskier would declare, or "You really are the best at finding spots in the wood where the ground is slightly less hard. I'll have to stay a while longer, just so I get some good sleep." 

It was bullshit and they both knew it. After Jaskier's damn song had taken off, he had more than enough coin to rent a room at an inn - hell, there were even some taverns where he was offered room and board for free as long as he performed. There was no reason for him to put up with the hard ground of the forest or the unseasoned meat Geralt cooked. 

Clearly, Jaskier was making up reasons to stay. 

Geralt just had no idea what the real reason might be. 

–

"No, I don't mind wandering the woods with you," Jaskier lied, "In fact, it might be for the best if I avoided towns for a while. There might be some nobles whom I've not-so-accidentally insulted. No, best I stay away."

Geralt rolled his eyes in fond exasperation. It wasn't a lie exactly. By now he knew Jaskier well enough that he could tell that there definitely was a number of people who wanted the bard gone. Geralt's first instinct was to think that he understood that inclination only too well. But that hadn't been true for quite a while.

It didn't matter. What mattered was that Geralt knew for a fact that Jaskier didn't care about who he had pissed off or in how much trouble he was. His own safety could not be the real reason why he stayed with Geralt. After all, what could be more dangerous than being with a witcher? 

For a moment, Geralt contemplated saying these thoughts out loud, but the words wouldn't leave his lips. Jaskier might take them too heart and what would Geralt do, if Jaskier decided that there really was no sensible reason for him to stay? 

So Geralt banished all reason from his mind. 

"Come on then," he said as he lead Roach off the road. "Better stay close so I can make sure you cause no more trouble." 

–

After the sixth month came and went, Geralt decided that he had been a patient man for long enough. He was itching with unease. 

At first, he told himself the feeling came from wanting the bard gone, but the more time he spent with him, the more he realized that it was quite the opposite. 

For as much as the bard was annoying and inconvenient and overall a nuisance, Geralt found himself dreading the day Jaskier would leave. 

Because Geralt didn't understand why he was staying. So he didn't know what he could do to make sure Jaskier continued to stay. 

So there was only one thing he could do: Until he figured out how to keep Jaskier from leaving, Geralt simply had to take a page out of the bard's book and make up excuses for why they shouldn't go their separate ways just yet. 

He was determined that one day, he would find out the truth. And maybe, once he stopped focusing so much on why Jaskier wanted to stay with him, he could finally ask himself why he wanted so desperately to stay with Jaskier as well. 

#Thank you for the prompt! #Geraskier #Geralt #Jaskier #Fic #Ficlet #Witcher #My writing

[hidden-misthios]

Something in the Orange (part 2)

Pairing: Lambert x female!sorceress!reader

Word count: 3 601

Summary: When Geralt of Rivia disappears, Jaskier has no choice but to ask his best friend for help. Although struggling with her own issues, Y/N agrees and they join Vesemir and the others in Kaer Morhen. The search might be difficult but not as difficult as the certain redheaded witcher who keeps challenging her.

A/n: I’m sorry for a long wait! 

Part 1 is here.

Y/N sighs. Of course it had to be him.

“Where is he?” she asks Vesemir, not really trying to hide her reluctance.

“Probably in his room. I’ll take you there.” he offered. Y/N nods and follows Vesemir out of the library. They walked through the castle in silence while Y/N was trying to think of what to say to Lambert once she was there.

When they finally arrived, Vesemir knocked on old doors.

“What?” they heard him grumbling from the other side and then the doors opened. He slightly raised his eyebrows when he noticed Y/N.

“We need your help.” Vesemir said.

“’Course you do.” he said, suddenly sounding tired.

“Y/N is an oneiromancer.” Vesemir started but Lambert immediately realized where this conversation is going.

“No. I’m not letting her bewitch me!” he shook his head.

“I’m not going to ‘bewitch’ you.” Y/N couldn’t help but roll her eyes. She crosses arms on chests while stepping closer to him. Lambert instantly steps backwards.

“We are just going to have a quick nice chat about your last encounter with Geralt.”

“And that’s supposed to help us get him back? How?” he frowns, crossing his arms as well.

“So many questions.” Y/N sighs and passes by him, entering his room without his approval. Lambert was about to protest but Y/N was getting inpatient.

“I’m going to need a chair, right here” she points next to Lambert’s bed. “You’re going to lay down and drink this.” Y/N opens her leather bag and pulls out a small bottle of sleep potion.

“You can’t be serious. I’m not drinking that.” Lambert complains.

“Since you two have things figured out, I’m sure you don’t need me. I’ll see you both in the morning.” Vesemir quickly adds and before anyone could say anything, he leaves down the hall. Y/N looks at Lambert again, and throws a small bottle at him. He caches it but doesn’t even look at the bottle.

“I said I’m not drinking that. Are you deaf?”

“Listen, witcher.” Y/N is annoyed at this point but she keeps her voice steady and calm. “I’m trying to help you find YOUR friend. Are you really going to make this harder than it already is?” she crosses arms.

“It’s harder because you got involved, not because of me!” he raises his voice slightly. Y/N steps closer, getting into his personal space.

“If this doesn’t work, I’m out. Okay? You’re on your own.” Y/N tried to sound patient, but Lambert could still sense the annoyance in her voice. All of a sudden, he grins.

“Deal. If it doesn’t work right away, you and that ridiculous trumpeter are out. By the first rays of the sunlight.”

Y/N’s jaw slightly clenches. “Deal.” she agrees, not wanting to break the eye contact first. Lambert looks at her for couple of seconds longer and then suddenly turns around, grabs the chair next to him and effortlessly moves it next to his bed.

He opens the bottle that Y/N gave him and looks at its content. Dark green liquid didn’t exactly smell like honey and flowers but Y/N knew how powerful the potion was.

“Go on. Drink all of it.” Y/N says as she sat down. Lambert sits on the edge of his bed. He hesitates for a few moments before finally drinking the potion.

“Lovely.” he manages to speak before coughing a couple of times. Y/N grabs an empty bottle from his hand and leans back into her chair.

“Okay, now, lay down. I’ll explain how this works.”

Lambert doesn’t say anything but lays down and crosses arms on his chests.

“Relax. Firstly, we need to discuss the details of your bond with Geralt.”

“We are friends, brothers. There’s nothing to discuss there.” Lambert says shrugging his shoulders but Y/N could swear she heard a bit of discomfort in his voice. He wasn’t comfortable with sharing his feelings with her.

“Lambert, my ability works only if my clients are honest with me. Do not lie. Don’t keep the details from me. I need to know how strong is your bond. Try to flesh out feelings, emotions…Truth is essential in this.”

Y/N looks at him. At least he looks like he’s listening to her.

“So, what are you going to do once you see that dream of yours?”

“I won’t see anything. You will.”

“I don’t understand-”

“You will. Now, please, I need the strongest, most complete memory you have of Geralt.”

Lambert hesitates. This wasn’t what he expected when he agreed to do this. After a couple of seconds, he decides to share the memory of their first shared hunt - the one where they killed Chort, who came out of the dark forest while they were still tracking him. The Chort was a beast; large male who was protecting his territory and clearly didn’t want them near, but Geralt and Lambert already got paid by the nearby villagers to get rid of the creature.

“Did he save your life?” Y/N asks. Lambert nods, looking at the dark ceiling. He could still remember the moment he thought he was dying. His stomach twisted just like it did that day.

“What else should I know?”

 It took a while for Y/N to gather information mostly because Lambert didn’t know how to express his feelings but Y/N didn’t rush him.

He’s a witcher after all, she’d remind herself.

By what she heard, they had a complicated relationship and often disagreed but they did respect each other and had a strong bond.

“Alright now, relax, close your eyes. And try to fall asleep. Empty your mind.” she said, and with one quick flick of hand she increased the flames in the small fireplace. The room got warmer almost immediately.

Lambert’s face relaxed after a couple of minutes. Y/N stayed quiet. This was the most vital part. He was supposed to feel like he fell asleep but keeping him in the state between deep sleep and consciousness was Y/N’s job. Sometimes it took a while, so remaining attentive was essential.

She focused, took a slow, steady breath and looked at Lambert. His brows furrowed and his jaw slightly clenched. Then suddenly she felt a soft ‘click’ inside her mind.

Y/N did it! The dream was there. Now, she had to wait. And hope the main dream doesn’t mix with the rest. Sometimes, she couldn’t do anything about it. The sleeper’s mind just went too far off. But, for some reason, she knew that won’t happen now.

After what seemed like forever, Lambert slowly opened his eyes. Although he just woken up, he looked tired. Y/N gave him a minute to sit up and gather his thoughts.

“So?”

“It worked.”

Lambert didn’t waste time explaining. He got up, grabbed his swords and rest of the equipment, and left the room. Y/N followed.

“What did you see?”

“Vesemir will know what to do. Come on.” he hurried her, taking sharp left turn on the main corridor.

“It’s the middle of night!” Y/N reminded him.

“I’m certain he won’t mind.” Lambert said and stopped himself in front of the last door in dim corridor. He grabbed the knob and, without knocking first, pushed the doors and let himself in.

Vesemir, who was sitting next to the window, on an old wooden chair, immediately stood up.

“I know where he is.” Lambert said.

Vesemir’s lips slightly parted. He didn’t even attempt to hide his surprise.

“Kaer Seren.” Lambert said calmly but Y/N immediately heard there was something else behind those words. Vesemir started pacing around the room, mummering occasional swear words for himself.

“You know that place?” Y/N asked, realizing that the answer was obvious but she wanted to be included.

Lambert looks at Vesemir for the explanation. The older witcher doesn’t say anything but approaches the small wooden box that laid on his nightstand and opens it. He reaches inside and Y/N immediately realises he’s holding the letters they got from Geralt’s abductors.

“You see, Y/N, the person who did this, chose that place for a reason.” he says, handling the letter to Y/N. She approaches and slowly takes them from his unsteady hands.

“Kear Seren, or Caer y Seren, if you prefer Elder, used to belong to witcher school of the Griffin. Through decades, the Griffins gathered a massive collection of books about magic in their library. Council of Mages did not like this - mostly because the Griffins refused to share their knowledge. So, naturally, when they got their chance, mages destroyed the castle and its residents. The school never recovered. They are, of course, a few of its members left, but they don’t have a home to return to once the winter hits.”

“That’s…awfully depressing, actually.” Y/N admits, glancing at the letters in her hands.

“But that…That is supposed to be a lesson for us.” Vesemir says with a hint of warning in his voice.” For Geralt.”

Y/N’s throat tightens. “Are you suggesting that the Mages did this to-”

“I am not suggesting anything just yet.” he interrupts her.

Vesemir knew how this whole situation looked like.

Lambert turns to Y/N. “If this was your kind-”

“My kind is not me. I’m helping you and your friend. Do not forget that, witcher!” Y/N warns him, slightly raising her voice. Lambert’s jaw tightens and he slowly starts to walk towards Y/N. “That won’t make much difference to me if it turns out they hold him captive.”

Y/N felt the rage ignite inside her. She starts marching in Lambert’s direction, lifting her arm up to summon the spell. “You arrogant fuck, how dare- “

“Alright, that’s enough!” Vesemir stands between them, raising hands to stop them both from coming any closer. “Let’s talk about this in the morning. Everyone is tired and there’s nothing we can do in the middle of the night.” he says calmly. Neither Lambert or Y/N say anything. They both still stare at each other over Vesemir’s shoulder.

“Come, Y/N. I’ll show you your room.” Vesemir adds. Y/N hesitates for a moment, but decides to join him in peace and quiet. They leave the room without another word, leaving Lambert behind. Y/N notices just now that she was tightly griping the letters in her hand.

They walk for a while down the dark corridor, Y/N’s realizing her heart was still beating quickly from the rage she felt back there.

When they finally reached the guest room, exhaustion and weariness suddenly overcome her. It seemed like her conversation with Jaskier from this morning was weeks ago.

“I’m sorry for what Lambert said back there. We are all quite tense since we received those letters.” Vesemir says, discomfort written all over his face.

“No offense, Vesemir, but I really don’t want to talk about him right now. I really need some rest.” Y/N says honestly. Vesemir nods.

“Of course. Get some sleep. We will talk in the morning.”

Find me.

*****

Y/N sits up in her bed, covered in sweat and breathing heavily. For a few seconds, she’s not sure where she is. At first, she thought it was the castle from her dreams.

Y/N wipes away the sweat from her forehead and takes a long breath to steady herself.

That dream kept repeating itself all over again for a while now but this time it felt more tense, like she was running out of time. But why?

As soon as she looked around the dark cold room, she realized this is still Kaer Morhen.

Y/N takes another glance around the room and then slowly gets up to dress herself. It was barely morning – the sun was shyly peaking behind the snowy mountains. She wraps her winter cloak around her tired body – is seemed that this castle was cold no matter the season.

Suddenly she hears a light knock on the doors.

Her dream is going to have to wait again.

Y/N opens the door. It was Jaskier.

“You’re awake, good. If you’re already packed, we can go right away. Vesemir and the others are almost ready to go.” he says, entering the room and walking around. Y/N raises eyebrows.

“Go where?”

“To Kaer Seren, of course!” he says tensely rubbing palms together. “To find Geralt.”

“Jaskier.” Y/N starts, but stops because she wasn’t sure what to say to her friend. He raises eyebrows waiting for her response.

“I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.” she says, remembering her fight with Lambert from the last night.

“What? To save him?” Jaskier asks, crossing arms on his chests.

“I’m not saying that!” Y/N answers immediately. “But it might be better if they all go without me.” she speaks softly, feeling the anxiety in her voice. Her friend frowns but doesn’t say anything right away.

“They? You know I’m going as well, right? I know he isn’t your friend. Not even someone you know well. But I do. He’s one of my closest friends, Y/N. I can’t just sit here and wait for someone else to save him. I just can’t. So please” he approaches her slowly. “Do this for me. I’ll own you. I’ll even pay you.” he adds.

Y/N shakes her head. She felt horrible now.

“Jaskier, this has nothing to do you with the money. Or favours.”

“Then what else do you want me to offer you?” Jaskier asks, his voice almost cracking from his pleads.

Y/N takes a long breath and looks away.

“What did Vesemir tell you exactly?” she asks after a few seconds.

“That Geralt is held at Kaer Seren and that we need to go.” Jaskier answers, slowly losing his patience with Y/N.

“Jaskier. His captors might be someone who relies on Chaos.” she finally says.” Someone just like me.”

Jaskier opens his mouth to speak but stops himself. Y/N could almost see his thought process all over his face.

“Y/N, Vesemir wouldn’t-”

“But Lambert would.”

“You’re helping us. You’re on our side!” Jaskier exclaims.

Suddenly, the door of her room opens fully and they both turn around. Redheaded witcher crosses his arms and leans shoulder against the doorframe.

“But when the time comes, would you kill your own brothers and sisters for one pitiful witcher?”

Neither Jaskier nor Y/N say anything.

“That’s what I thought. And that’s why she’s not coming with us.” Lambert says, his eyes pierced on Y/N. She stares back, trying to hide her discomfort.

“Eavesdropper. And in matter of fact, I am.” she responds. Jaskier looks at her, not trying to hide his surprise.

“You are?” he asks quietly.

“Yes, I am.” she says, still looking at Lambert. He scowls, slightly shaking his head. Y/N doesn’t say anything. She didn’t know why she agreed to this.

She was aware this was dangerous for her. Lambert was right. Would she be able to kill a sorceress or a mage that was standing on their way?

But now it was too late. She agreed to come. She let him provoke her again. And this time, it was more serious.

“Alright. But let’s clear up some things, witch.” Lambert slowly walks towards her, until he’s just a couple of centimetres away from her face.

“If I, just a for second, doubt your intentions” he glances over her entire face. Y/N doesn’t move.

He’s standing too close.

“You’re done.” he says quietly. Y/N clenches her jaw but doesn’t lower her eyes.

“Get out of my sight, witcher.” she barely uttered the words. She wasn’t even sure if she spoke them louder than a whisper.

“Gladly.” he instantly responds and pulls back, leaving the room without another glance at her. And just like that, he was gone.

Y/N finally takes a breath. She wasn’t even aware she was holding it in until he was gone.

“Woah.” Jaskier says quietly, glancing towards the door as if he was expecting Lambert to come back.

“What?” Y/N asks.

“He really-”

“Hates me for no reason?” Y/N interrupts him. Jaskier slightly tilts his head, still looking towards the door as if he’s waiting for Lambert to come back.

“No, I don’t think that’s hate.”

Y/N raises eyebrows at her friend. “Is this witcher’s way of showing fondness? If so, I’m not so sure I want to save your friend anymore.” Y/N says.

Jaskier grins. “Geralt is not that bad.” he says but his grin slowly fades away.

“Y/N, are you really going to help us find him?”

Y/N slowly nods. “I will.”

“What changed your mind?” he asks cautiously. Y/N shrugs her shoulder.

“I…I’m not really sure. But I’ll do my best to help you and your friend.” she admits. Jaskier looks at her for couple of seconds and then cleans his throat.

“Alright then, that’s good enough for me. We should be on our way then!” he says, sounding more enthusiastically this time. Y/N agrees, and turns around to look for her bag. There was no reason to wait, they should be on their way as soon as possible.

“Vesemir and the others are already in the main hall. We should join them.” Jaskier says, heading towards the doors.

Y/N grabs the bag from the wooden chair and heads towards her friend. Just as she was about leave the room, she notices those letters that Vesemir gave her sitting on table next to the door.

Y/N grabs them, not really sure why would she need them.

When they finally joined Vesemir and the other witchers in the main hall, the sun had just fully risen and the day was about to begin.

“Y/N we need your assistance again.” Vesemir says after they all formed a circle in the middle of hall. Y/N counted – there was 6 of them. Vesemir, Lambert and Coen were standing with bags over their shoulders while Ciri, the only female witcher Y/N ever met, was holding only her silver sword, nervously switching weight from one leg to another. Jaskier gave Ciri a warm, comforting look but the girl looked at Y/N. Y/N tried to smile but it felt forced. There was nothing comforting or cheerful in conversation they were about to have.

“How can I help?” Y/N asks, turning to Vesemir.

“We need a portal. To Kaer Seren.”

Lambert and Coen groaned. Ciri gave them a warning look.

“Babies.” she mutters, crossing her arms.

Y/N nervously swallows. She wasn’t particularly good at making portals. Being oneiromancer didn’t require creating them anyway. Especially not so far away from her current position.

Or for so many people at once.

“I’m…I’m not sure if that’s good idea.” she honestly tells Vesemir.

“Why not?” Jaskier asks.

“Firstly, I’m oneiromancer – we don’t use portals as our primary form of transportation. Secondly, traveling that far with so much people cannot be done without huge risk.”

“What are the risks?” Jaskier asks carefully.

“Are you joking, bard?” Lambert interjected. “I’m not risking shit.”

“Cowards!” Ciri is slowly losing her patience. She turns to Vesemir. “Let me do it, please!”

“Child, we talked about this.” he speaks softly with the girl, disregarding her infuriation. “We need intractable portals. Yours could be traced from other side of Continent.”

“I don’t think that’s possible for anyone else either. Portals of those proportions are just too noticeable.” Y/N answers.

“I say we ride. That’s the safest option.” Lambert suggests.

“Ride to Kaer Seren is almost week long! They will kill him before we even pass Caingorn!” Ciri groans.

“They won’t kill him.” Vesemir says calmly. Ciri tilts her head and raises her eyebrows.

“How can you be so sure about that?”

Everyone is looking at Vesemir now.

“Because he’s being held as a warning. Those letters…they wouldn’t send it unless they want something from us. Something in exchange for Geralt.”

“Or someone.” Y/N adds. Lambert looks at her.

“What do you mean?” Vesemir asks before Lambert had a chance to speak.

Y/N takes a long breath, stopping herself before saying something that could trigger a new argument.

She carefully formed her next words looking at Ciri.

“If they want someone - “

“She thinks we are holding someone in our cells that they might want back.” Lambert says, crossing arms on his chests. He didn’t sound intimidating this time.

This time, he sounded like he was…mocking her. Y/N’s lips parted but she didn’t know what to say.

Ciri and Coen raise eyebrows at Y/N.

“That’s not what I meant!” Y/N says, realizing how terrible that sounded.

“No? Enlighten us then.” he shrugs. Everyone is looking at her. Even Jaskier, who has never been this quiet since Y/N met him.

“I was thinking… they might want someone else, but couldn’t get to them. Someone like Ciri.” Y/N tells him, but looks over to Ciri. Whitehaired woman looked enraged.

“I don’t care! Just because you think they might want me, won’t stop me from saving Geralt. End of discussion.”

“Cirilla.” Vesemir warns her and the girl’s expression soften a bit. “Y/N might be right.”

“Are you seriously agreeing with her!?” Ciri exclaims, stepping forward.

“I do.” Vesemir responds calmly, but lifts his palm when Ciri was about to protest again. “But I still think you should come with us.” he adds. Ciri stays quiet for a second and then nods. She glances at Y/N with some sharpness in her expression but doesn’t say anything.

“So here is what I suggest we do.” Vesemir says when he realizes Ciri calmed down. “Y/N. You’re going to make a portal. But here’s the catch – you’re not taking us to Kaer Seren.” he adds.

“No?” Y/N asks, slightly nervous when portals are brought up again. One look at Lambert and Coen and Y/N figures they might be as well.

“You are going to take us halfway. To Hengfors.”

#something in the orange #the witcher #the witcher fic #lambert the witcher #lambert #lambert fic #lambert fanfiction #lambert x reader #lambert x y/n #witcher x y/n #reader fanfic #jaskier #coen #vesemir #ciri #geralt #geralt of rivia

[cvbeebop]

"I love you."

The words leave Radovid's lips almost instinctively as they part from their kiss, but instead of regret, there is resolve in his eyes as he looks up into Jaskier's. The bard's own eyes widen at the sincerity, at the lack of fear, and at the insecurity that bubbles inside his chest.

It wouldn't be the first time that he lies to a lover, that he falsely returns those words to keep his lover's feelings safe in ignorant bliss, but this time Jaskier doesn't want to lie. It catches him off guard, but he doesn't blurt out the words just to make Radovid happy. He can't. He can't hurt him.

The moment lingers for too long and Radovid gives him a breathy chuckle as he turns his head down, clearly hurt and disappointed, but seemingly not discouraged from holding Jaskier.

"You know, it's alright if you don't. I prefer that you don't, if you don't feel the same. I just wanted to say it. Get it off my chest." The prince explains, with a kind, sweet smile that Jaskier knows to be sincere, even if it's also there to hide his hurt.

"I'm sorry..." Jaskier mutters, his eyes a bit glassy with emotion. Ironic that he's the one fighting back tears, but Radovid knows his reasons, and he leans in to kiss his forehead. This only causes Jaskier to break further, and lean into Radovid's arms to hold him tightly, then pull back to hold his face between his hands.

"I do care for you. Deeply. More than I've..." He cuts himself off, and shakes his head with an awkward laugh. "You'd think a poet would have better words for a moment like this." He continues self consciously, and Radovid laughs adoringly, shaking his head.

"I like this better. I like to know I take your wits away." He smirks, and Jaskier frowns with a smile, closing his eyes.

"I will tell you one day." He promises as he looks back up at him, staring into those terrifyingly loving eyes. "And you'll know for a fact that it's not a lie." Radovid only smiles and leans in to kiss Jaskier's lips softly. As they part, he brushes a strand of hair out of Jaskier's cheek and caresses his brow, while Jaskier can only close his eyes to feel it better.

"Lucky for you I'm a patient man. And not terribly jealous." At that, Jaskier's eyes bolt open and he looks at him with worry.

"It's not because of him." Jaskier explains hastily. "Well— Not like you think." There's a bit of a blush on Jaskier's cheeks as he speaks, and it seems to be enough to break a bit of tension that had built from Radovid's part. "I... I felt an unrequited, unwanted, unwilling love for most of my life. I got used to having lovers on the side to water it down, but it never really went away..."

"And now..?" Radovid asks, playing with an air of confidence that Jaskier knows is there to hide the fear underneath.

"It changed. My love is now that of a very old friend, but my heart... Is scared to open so readily again. I fear I don't even know how to love anymore."

Radovid pulls Jaskier down into a sweet hug, and the bard whimpers and holds him back tightly, hiding his face in the crook of his neck. "Then it's alright. I don't think anyone knows how to love. Let alone a drunk, messy prince like myself. That you're worried about giving me the right type of love speaks better about you than it does me." The prince jokes, and Jaskier finally smiles.

"I will say it one day. Soon. And you will swoon off your feet, I promise."

Radovid grins, and pulls Jaskier closer still. "Good."

#radskier #i am half asleep and this probably has so many mistakes but i had to get this off my chest #enjoy my brainrot #the witcher #the witcher spoilers #my writing

[samstree]

words can wait (until some other day)

Jaskier does not panic when he falls in love. It happens a bit further down the road. (geraskier, 3k, cw: panic attack ☆ AO3)

Jaskier does not panic when he falls in love.

The summer sun blurs his vision when he finds Geralt in a patch of meadow, familiar swords on his back, metal armors reflecting the bright light. He’s whispering to an anxious Roach in that particularly gentle tone, petting her mane patiently. He doesn’t even register Jaskier’s presence for a moment.

And then, there’s the smile. A soft smile tugs at Geralt’s lips when the mare finally calms. It’s reserved and quiet, but Jaskier knows all the world’s joy is contained in that small, warm smile. Roach nuzzles Geralt’s chest, and it grows. Crow’s feet form around soft golden eyes, and Jaskier falls in love right there.

Perhaps he should panic, he thinks, just a little. This is Geralt, his best friend, his companion, the reason for all his songs and the beat of his heart. But only sureness pools in Jaskier’s stomach like warm tea on a rainy day. There is no tightness in his chest, no constricting of breaths.

His love for Geralt brings no harm, only safety.

He is decidedly and unsurprisingly not panicking. It’s Geralt, after all.

So Jaskier calls out for his name and runs right into his arms. Geralt is perplexed by the sudden hug, but he catches Jaskier steadily as always. The smile doesn’t fade when Jaskier pulls away, half amused, half exasperated.

“Jaskier?” The sun is blinding, but all Jaskier can see is the gold in Geralt’s eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Jaskier can only shake his head, his own smile mirrored back, spreading so wide on his cheeks it nearly hurts.

“Nothing,” he answers. “Just… let me hug you. Just a moment longer.”

Geralt allows Jaskier to burrow deep into his embrace again, indulging what looks like a nameless bout of clinginess. They stay there for a while, swaying back and forth, despite the summer heat, despite Jaskier’s foolish heart.

☆

Jaskier does not panic when he realizes his love cannot be returned.

The fall rolls around with a crisp blue sky and a forest of golden leaves. The ground becomes colder, digging into Jaskier’s back when he struggles to fall asleep. Between his dreams, Jaskier counts the crackling of the campfire and the quiet shuffles of Geralt’s movements. A chill creeps into the bedroll, and Jaskier holds his lute closer, shivering and drifting in and out of consciousness.

Somewhere during the night, when the moon is high and the forest is quiet, warmth envelopes Jaskier from behind. He lets out a long sigh, and the shivering stops. He gravitates towards the warmth, angling his body to fit into the source.

He wakes up in Geralt’s arms, head pillowed on his shoulder and their faces a hand’s breadth apart. Both of their cloaks are wrapped around him, tucked under his body carefully. They are not nearly big enough to cover the two of them, so half of Geralt’s body is painfully exposed in the autumn chill, but Jaskier is warm and toasty even to the toes.

He’s breathless from all the love in his chest.

“Hmm?” Geralt mumbles, blinking open his eyes. In the dim morning light, his features are soft and open, all the hardened exterior disappearing when it’s just the two of them, holding each other close on a chilly morning. When he finds Jaskier staring at him, an eyebrow raises in question. “Alright?”

“Yeah,” Jaskier whispers, not wanting to break the moment. “I’m just… very warm.”

Geralt catches Jaskier’s hand under the cloaks in his, only to touch Jaskier’s warm fingers with his cold ones.

“Good,” Geralt says, voice rumbling from sleep. “Humans don’t deal with cold that well.”

Jaskier pauses, looking up at Geralt’s slack face and slow-blinking eyes. It’s rare for a witcher to drift off casually once he’s woken in the morning, but Geralt does nonetheless, in a rare state of lazy contentment. Jaskier stays wide awake.

He loves Geralt, and he knows Geralt cares for him. In his way, Geralt cares so deeply, often to his own detriment. Despite what they say, despite all appearances, Geralt has a deeper capacity for love than anyone Jaskier has known.

Geralt can love deeply, that much he is sure.

It’s just that Jaskier isn’t special. He resides in a small corner of Geralt’s heart, cared for amongst countless humans weaving through a witcher’s long life.

Jaskier settles against Geralt’s shoulder, content. At peace, somehow.

Loving Geralt is enough, even if it’s unrequited, even if he’s alone in his love.

☆

Jaskier also does not panic when he decides to tell Geralt about his love.

It is the winter’s first snow, a soft, fluttering thing that drifts across the grey sky, falling and melting on Roach’s mane silently. The year on the path has officially ended, but Jaskier lingers.

Urged forward by his treacherous heart, Jaskier follows Geralt all the way into Kaedwen. The final fork road stands before them, the last moment before their separation.

Jaskier rambles on, complaining about his frozen fingers in the lecture halls of the university he can only half-heartedly call home—the real one is this. The road, monsters and ballads. Home is Geralt, since he was eighteen.

“I don’t care if Kaer Morhen is an ice castle up in the mountains, Oxenfurt has to be colder! I am not leaving my winter doublets with you again. Help me, Geralt! Check again!”

He wrinkles his nose, digging through Geralt’s pack to find another one of his fur-lined doublets. Their things get mixed up during the year. Jaskier may have sneakily slipped most of them in so he can linger a bit longer without thinking about the giant hole that is going to take up his chest in Geralt’s absence.

“You know you can just not mix them with my things.”

“Hush, dear. Be smart later. We must find the gloves! My fingers cannot be exposed to the cruel winds of winter! It’s the dampness, I tell you—Oh.”

Jaskier touches something soft and squishy at the bottom of Geralt’s pack. He pulls out not gloves, but a small, hand-sewn horse plush.

It’s not the most delicately made, most of the seams lopsided and the dark brown fabric of the horse’s body fixed up with patches old and new. The two buttons are different sizes, but they look rustically charming with a big smile on its face.

“Jask, it’s—um. It’s a…” Geralt, amazingly, is starting to fluster. “It’s nothing. It’s a… horse.”

Jaskier feels like he’s stumbled onto something very intimate.

“So it is.” He looks up, not sure what to do with his hands, so he keeps holding the soft toy carefully. “She looks like Roach.”

“It’s from that girl. Around ten years ago.” Geralt looks away, as if embarrassed by having a cuddly toy in his possession. “Got her out of the manticore nest.”

“I remember. It was a close call. Her parents were worried sick.”

Geralt reaches out as if to touch the little horse, only to pull away last minute. “I checked on her a year later, passed by the village. She had made this.”

“She did?” Jaskier smiles fondly. “I remember she wouldn’t stop crying, so you introduced her to Roach.”

“And you did the voices.”

“It worked wonderfully. She made a friend that day, and went home to make you a friend.” Jaskier waves the horse’s front leg cheekily.

A soft smile tugs at the corners of Geralt’s lips. “Roach is easy to love.”

Jaskier looks down at the small horse plush, the most precious lopsided toy in the world. It’s like he’s holding Geralt’s heart between his hands. Handle with care, he reminds himself. A witcher’s heart breaks easily.

So he puts the horse gently in Geralt’s hand, giving it a little squeeze. Geralt rubs its ears on instinct, a subtle motion that seems to soothe himself.

“She really is,” Jaskier whispers reverently, not sure who he’s talking about.

There Geralt is, holding a small gift from a decade ago, a tangible proof that he was once appreciated, remembered, loved. It’s a good sight. Geralt deserves to know when he is loved.

Jaskier’s breath catches when he meets Geralt’s gaze for a moment too long, nearly struck dumb by the split-second decision he just made.

Geralt deserves to know.

Too few love him. If one does, one should declare it loudly.

His chest is warm with calmness, a quiet acceptance of his unrequited love. It will be okay. Even though Jaskier will not be loved in the same way, it will be worth it.

They finish finding Jaskier’s things and bid goodbye, the plush toy sitting in Geralt’s pack safely. When Jaskier walks away, he looks back with every other step, heart full of tenderness. He cannot say it yet. It will be the most important thing he does in this life. A poet should be granted enough time before proclaiming his love. He should be allowed the dramatics, at least.

“Wait,” Geralt calls out.

“Hmm?”

Jaskier turns around, thoughts lost in planning the day already. Flowers. He should pick flowers—Geralt loves them, even though he never shows it. Also those candied fruits he likes. Good food is always a nice opening for serious words—

“Jaskier, just… wait for a moment.” The flustering is back when Geralt catches up with a few long strides. “You don’t need to go.”

Jaskier frowns. “But I do? It’s well into winter already. I can’t make it to Oxenfurt once the snow sets in—”

“Don’t go to Oxenfurt,” Geralt interrupts. “Come to Kaer Morhen. With me.”

Snow melts on Jaskier’s lashes, blurring his vision.

“Really?” His heart hammers, the thrumming beats revealing too much. “You’d want me there?”

Geralt only takes his hand, thumb rubbing gentle circles on Jaskier’s wrist, an anchor to calm all the butterflies in his stomach.

“Must you ask?” he says softly. “You know the answer.”

When Jaskier takes Geralt’s hand in return, the familiar warmth enveloping him, he realizes that he does. He learned the answers to all things Geralt a long time ago.

☆

The mountains are slow to accept spring’s arrival, sitting far above the rest of the world, but it waltzes in gracefully anyway. Snow seeps into the ground, bringing back the first sprouts of life. Kaer Morhen stands too close to the sky. Colors return to the crumbling keep, stirring their quiet life with restlessness.

It’s the last day before they set out for another year’s journey. Jaskier relishes his last moments in the keep, sitting cross-legged on Geralt’s bed with the lute in his lap, strumming an absent tune. It’s also become his bed since the dark days near solstice. My room is warmer, Geralt insisted at the time, with more sunlight. It’s only practical.

Jaskier isn’t sure how he’ll cope once they leave the keep, without Geralt’s presence grounding him at night. It’s trouble for the future him, he reckons. For now, Geralt is padding across the room quietly to join him, lying down on the pillow next to Jaskier’s thigh.

His fingers stop for a moment to brush the loose strands away from Geralt’s face. His witcher grumbles sleepily, eyes closed, snuggling against Jaskier while slowly drifting off into a nap.

The lute is soon left on the ground. Jaskier curls up under the cover and falls asleep too.

When they wake up, it is to the setting sun hanging above the horizon, casting long shadows through the window. Geralt stirs, only to bury his face in Jaskier’s neck, the tangles of his hair tickling Jaskier’s skin. They fall into a mess of giggles, and Jaskier pretends to push him away.

The orange-gold sunlight lines Geralt’s silver locks beautifully, golden eyes meeting blue in quiet contentment. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Jaskier answers.

This is the moment.

All dramatics are forgotten, all poetry set aside. It’s just him, giving away his heart at the right time, asking nothing for himself.

“Geralt, dear, I—” Jaskier breathes steadily. “I love you.”

It’ll be alright. It’s only Geralt, who deserves the world and more. Jaskier is only a simple bard with his lute and silly songs, hoping all of himself is enough. Geralt knowing he is loved is worth ten times the heartache of Jaskier not being loved in return.

“Oh.”

“Don’t say anything.” Jaskier’s voice is still relaxed with sleep, so he leans in close, the exchange barely above an intimate whisper. “I know you don’t feel the same, but I do. Love you, that is. I love you, and you deserve to know. You are loved, without condition or a price, for as long as I live.”

“Jaskier…” Geralt nearly sounds pained. He shouldn’t be, not when he’s loved.

“It’s alright,” Jaskier says. “You don’t owe me anything. I understand. All I ask is a place by your side so I may walk with you, as we have done before. I never want you to feel guilty for not returning my feelings.”

“But I do.”

Jaskier blinks, only now realizing his vision is getting blurry. Geralt watches him, eyes full of joy and sincerity.

“You—what?”

Suddenly, Jaskier’s throat is very tight, his breath shuddering. The panic that has been kept at bay makes a strange appearance from deep inside his lungs.

“I love you too,” Geralt says, holding Jaskier’s shoulder, keeping him close. “I thought you knew. I thought you could tell. Jaskier, I—”

The thundering of his heart is all Jaskier can hear. The room is too small and the air too thin. With all the time he’s spent preparing himself for the eventual rejection, he’s never dared to imagine the other possibility.

Geralt loves him.

Oh.

Jaskier’s chest seizes as anxiety takes hold, his words stumbling over each other and his vision tunneling.

“Forgive me—” Head spinning, Jaskier just wants to get out of this room, away from Geralt’s worried expression and the warmth of his hands. “I wasn’t expecting… I just need a moment. It’s all very sudden, I…”

“Hey, Jask, slow down. You are hyperventilating.” Geralt, as if he needs to get more lovely just to torment Jaskier’s delicate heart, notices his panic and reacts immediately. “Just try to breathe. It’s alright. Just breathe. I’m right here…”

Geralt tries to pull Jaskier into an embrace, an old trick to calm him, but it’s all too much. Jaskier needs to get out of the room.

He mumbles another apology, limbs tangling with the sheets as he scrambles out of bed. Geralt calls for him through a fog of confusion and worry, but Jaskier is gone from the room, half stumbling and half running.

☆

Jaskier is most assuredly panicking right now.

He wanders aimlessly in the keep, trying and failing to catch his breath, only instincts guiding him to a place of comfort. He pushes open the door into the small but well-kept winter garden in the corner of the backyard, the pressure on his breastbone finally letting up in the crisp mountain air. He breathes in the mixture of plants and dirt and leans against the cold wall, sliding down with all his energy sapped.

Geralt loves him back.

Jaskier turns over those words in his head slowly, easing into the idea.

It’s a good thing. As the panic eases from his mind, his senses return slowly. It hits him just how ridiculous he looks, running away from the man he loves, simply because he was loved in return.

There’s dirt on his bare feet, and Jaskier hugs his knees close. He takes in a deep breath, and then another. Slowly, painstakingly, the panic subsides. He’s not sure how much time has passed, but clarity returns eventually, and he rests his head against the wall with relief.

“Jaskier.”

The door creaks open, and there Geralt is, holding a large blanket and looking awkwardly unsure.

“I’m fine,” Jaskier answers, voice still tight.

Geralt all but softens. He sits down next to Jaskier but doesn’t touch, only holding out the blanket. “May I?”

Receiving a nod, Geralt wraps the blanket around Jaskier’s thin shirt, careful not to invade his space. Jaskier almost feels like a dam breaking when he throws himself into Geralt’s arms, burrowing under his chin. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs.

“Shh. Don’t be.” Geralt rocks him back and forth, a hand running down Jaskier’s arm. “Want to tell me what happened?”

“I panicked,” Jaskier sniffs.

Geralt chuckles quietly. “I could tell. But why? I thought the conversation was going somewhere… well, somewhere good?”

Jaskier lifts his head but lets Geralt hold him close, soothing his nerves patiently.

“It was going somewhere incredibly good,” he admits. “Too good, perhaps. I wasn’t ready for it.”

“Hmm.” Geralt tilts his head, observing him.

Jaskier hides away from Geralt’s knowing gaze. “You must think it was stupid. To be fair, I was. Who would have a full-on panic attack because the love of their life actually loves them back?” He lets out a self-deprecating huff. “I had accepted it, that I was alone in my longing, and that nothing would change after my confession. But now… things will change, and it was suddenly too real.”

“It wasn’t the confession that gave you panic. It was knowing that I loved you.” Something in Geralt’s expression crumbles, guilt and shame creeping up on his brow. “All these years, I thought you knew. I’m not good with words, so I tried to show you, instead.”

“Oh.”

Jaskier blinks, thinking back on every detail of their companionship in a new light—the quiet protectiveness, the trust, the care. The answer pieces together like puzzles falling into place, a clear picture forming in his mind.

Geralt, always putting Jaskier before himself.

Geralt, smiling and laughing because of Jaskier, and making Jaskier smile and laugh in return.

Geralt, inviting Jaskier to his home.

The only conclusion—

“You love me. You have loved me all this time.”

Geralt smiles. “And you love me.”

Jaskier’s heart picks up its pace for an entirely different reason this time. “That’s… wonderful.” He’s smiling so hard it makes him giddy. “Whatever shall we do now?”

“Now? Anything, I suppose. Everything, or nothing at all.” Geralt turns to kiss Jaskier on the temple, making his cheeks heat up rather embarrassingly. “We’ll figure it out tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” Jaskier echoes. “For now, we don’t need words yet.”

Another year begins tomorrow, the seasons passing by as they walk the path.

But for now, they stay in the little corner of a keep that stands too close to the sky. For now, they don’t need words yet.

#geraskier #geraskier fic #getting together #fluff #panic attack #can you tell all i'm thinking right now is making a horse plushie

[julek]

x

A plate with two slices of slightly-toasted bread falls on top of Jaskier’s parchment.

He’s about to scream at whoever had the audacity — but when he looks around he realizes it’s nighttime, and he’s been at it all day, and when he looks up it’s into Geralt’s eyes, and they are kind and patient and golden like the sun.

“You,” Jaskier says, his voice raspy from disuse, taking his Witcher’s face into his hands, “do sweet better than honey.”

Geralt flushes under his touch and his loving words.

“It’s been hours,” he replies. “You need to eat.”

Jaskier glances at the sweet, sweet strawberry jam spread on his toast with care.

“I love you,” he whispers. “Thank you.”

Geralt presses a kiss to his forehead, making to leave. “Eat.”

Jaskier hums. “Kiss me goodbye?”

Geralt smiles, and when he presses his lips to Jaskier’s in a gentle kiss, they taste of strawberry.

“I love you too,” he whispers against Jaskier’s lips, kissing him again before standing to leave. “I’ll come get you for bed later.”

“Promise?”

Geralt smiles, leaning against the doorway. “Promise.”

#mywriting #i loved that one line from that poem too much #geraskier ficlet #geralt x jaskier

[hale-of-stiles-heart]

the ficlet i completely forgot about until i found it in my journal! dedicated to @roughentumble as always

At first, the words are whisper-quiet, mumbled into the midnight air and just as quickly covered up by the low crackle of the fire in the hearth and the muffled howl of the wind outside.

“Hmm?” Geralt prompts, giving Jaskier a little nudge where he’s lying curled up against Geralt’s, legs drawn up with his knees brushing Geralt’s thigh, one palm splayed over the witcher’s heart, thumb idly toying with the silver chain of his medallion. His hair is slightly damp and mussed from the rough towel drying he had given it after his long soak in the tub, smelling of his favorite chamomile bath oil and curling just the slightest bit as it dries. It’s cute, Geralt thinks.

Jaskier remains silent for a long moment and Geralt would think he had fallen asleep if not for the sound of his heartbeat, steady and calm but not the slower rhythm that comes with sleep. Another minute passes in comfortable silence before Jaskier finally speaks, this time speaking a touch louder as he repeats, “You make things quiet.”

Jaskier follows up the statement by turning his head to nuzzle his face against Geralt’s bare chest, the shadow of stubble on his jaw rasping against the hair on Geralt’s chest, just as pale as the rest of him. Geralt can’t help but snort in agreement though the observation is apropos of nothing.

He knows well how often his mere presence has quieted raucous taverns to nothing but hushed whispers. Has learned the art of utilizing his scowl and a well-timed glare of his unnatural eyes to silence those attempting to renege on their agreements and promises of coin. It’s something many witchers have taken advantage of, using their fearsome reputations for their own gain simply as a matter of survival. 

Why Jaskier has thought to comment on it now is a mystery but so much of the bard and his behavior is a mystery to Geralt. An enigma dressed in fancy embroidered silks and contradictions he is. Even now, a full season into their relationship becoming romantic in nature, Geralt still finds himself surprised at nearly every turn.

“A skill many a witcher has mastered,” Geralt teases in response, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Especially ones without a charming bard to butter people up.”

But Jaskier just grunts in disagreement, sounding a bit frustrated. “S’not what I meant.”

Geralt hums again, waiting patiently for Jaskier to elaborate. It takes a minute, as though he’s carefully composing his thoughts, crafting his words now just as meticulously as he does those for his songs.

“Sometimes… Sometimes it’s like my head’s too loud,” Jaskier begins softly, fiddling with Geralt’s medallion, tracing the snarling wolf’s head with the pad of his thumb. “There’s always so much going on. Composing lyrics and arranging melodies and thinking of snippets of poetry. Shopping lists and old stories and dirty tavern jokes. Grading rubrics and important people’s names, trying to keep the peerage in order so I don’t accidentally offend some duke by calling him a baron and find myself losing an invitation to play at court. So much noise it’s hard to hear myself just think at times.”

It sounds exhausting, Geralt must admit, wincing at the thought. He knows very well how hard it could be to maneuver the simplest tasks in the midst of a cacophony of sound, of having to try to tune out everything just to focus on the matter at hand for but a moment. But a crowded marketplace or bustling town square could be left, could be avoided entirely sometimes. But Jaskier could not so easily escape the babeldom of his own mind.

“But you,” Jaskier continues, drawing Geralt from his musing, “You make everything quiet. Calm and peaceful and quiet. I have no trouble falling asleep when I’m with you.”

Immediately, Geralt’s chest tightens, feeling so full of warmth and love, utterly charmed and thoroughly touched by Jaskier’s admission. He takes a moment to bask in the feeling, squeezing Jaskier with the arm he has draped over his waist.

“You make things loud,” Geralt says in turn, his voice barely a whisper, just as Jaskier’s had been. Jaskier huffs, sounding self-conscious as he curls closer and scoffs a laugh, no doubt thinking of the many times Geralt has insulted his voice or his tendency towards loquaciousness.

It’s been years since any such harsh words have passed his lips and Geralt has made certain to thoroughly apologize for his past remarks but he knows that Jaskier’s self-doubt, his worry about one day proving to be too much, too loud, too everything, is not so easily placated.

“Not in a bad way,” Geralt hurries to assure him. “Before you, my life was… Quiet. Lonely. Sure there were winters at Kaer Morhen with my brothers, yes, but I was always alone on the Path. Nothing but scornful looks in towns, aldermen cheating me out of my pay and innkeeps refusing me a room with no one to defend me, lonely nights around the fire with Roach.”

He remembers those days with the clarity of a broken shard of glass though they now feel like a lifetime ago ever since Jaskier strutted into his life. But now, when he thinks of the Path, he thinks of the sound of a lute and a familiar voice singing sweet songs about him. About the latest court gossip he doesn’t care one whit about but listens to attentively because Jaskier is the one relaying it. About the sweet whispered words directed at his beloved horse when Jaskier braids her mane and spoils her with apples. He smiles into the dim of their room.

“But you have filled my days with noise. With songs and poetry and laughter and love. You’ve saved me from a life of lonely silence and filled it with blessed sound.”

“Oh, Geralt…” Jaskier breathes, lifting his head to gaze at Geralt with bright watery eyes that glint in the firelight. He tips his head for a kiss and Geralt eagerly obliges, slipping a hand into those damp chestnut waves. His chest aches pleasantly when their lips part and Jaskier whispers the three little words that always steal the breath from his lungs. Of all the sounds Jaskier has filled his days and nights with, the sweetest and most precious of all remains, “I love you.”

#the witcher #geraskier #geraskier fic #the witcher fic #geralt/jaskier #my fic #fluff #established relationship #amber writes

[starfirewildheart]

Chapter 7

The Wolf and the Flame

Summary: Geralt had just found Ciri and was headed to Kaer Morhen when something drew him into the woods. He found a woman near death and things changed for them all. (I suck at summaries just read please!) Yennefer is bad in the start of this but she and Geralt work on their friendship. Eskel is a dick at first but there is a reason and it works out. Will have a happy ending. Ciri is younger here than in the netflix show. She is about 12.

Warnings: abuse history, injuries, hurt comfort, no one under 18 to be safe, will add when I need to 

Words: 2,104

“Turn your back to the forest, hut, hut. Turn your front to me, hut, hut.”

“I’m sorry,” Yennefer said as they walked through the forest toward the hut.

“Don’t,” he growled. “There is no apology that can make up for what you did.”

“I lost my chaos, Geralt. I’m nothing without it. This was the only way I could get it back.” His silence was more painful than if he physically struck her. “What if someone took your ability to be a witcher away? Would you be this damn self-righteous then?” she snapped.

He stopped walking and spun on her. “Even without the mutations and trials, I would still protect the innocent! I would not damn others because I couldn’t be what I felt I was meant to be!” He tried to calm himself as he knew a blind rage could get them both killed but he was over her arrogance. “Just like your need to have a child when you were willing to sacrifice everyone in your path to get what you wanted! You said you had no choice in becoming what you are just like I had no choice but that’s not true Yennefer. You had a choice! You had a choice to leave Aratusa just like you had a choice to remain as you were before you paid the price for beauty. You had a choice to use your chaos for good but instead, you chose to use it for power. Do not speak to me about choices! Naurel and Jaskier are humans! They are innocents but none of that mattered to you. All you cared about was yourself, it’s all you will ever care about!” He stormed off deeper into the woods letting his medallion guide him leaving Yennefer to wallow in her self-pity.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

It took nearly two full days to get to the temple and Yarpin was worried about his charges. Both of them had stopped talking and that was shocking for the bard. He was surprised to see Nenneke and a few others waiting outside the temple when they arrived. There was something about that woman that put him on edge. She seemed to know things that others didn’t and he couldn’t prove it but he thought she could read minds too. “Geralt sent us. He said you would help them.”

The priestess nodded and told her people to take Naurel and Jaskier to the healing wing before turning to Yarpin. “You and your people are welcome to stay but you will not bring weapons into the temple.”

“We’ll wait out here,” he told her, unwilling to disarm.

Nenneke and her people set to work on Naurel and Jaskier quickly stripping them both and cleaning them and treating their injuries. They were both still unconscious when Geralt arrived a day later.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

The white-haired witcher shifted in the chair where he’d sat for the better part of two days after arriving at the temple. It had all been a waste of time. The deathless mother had already escaped her prison and was lost to him and Yennefer had fled. He hadn’t cared enough to search for her since she wasn’t a threat without her magic. Leaving her to wallow in her self-pity seemed all he was capable of since he was so worried about those he loved. Nenneke had tried to get him to rest, promising she would come to get him if there was any change in either patient but he steadfastly refused. She called him stubborn and treated his injuries before leaving him with his friends.

He’d held both their hands on and off, talked to them, fretted over them hell he’d even yelled a little hoping to get a reaction but nothing happened. Naurel’s wounds were healing well and Nenneke felt that the reason she’d not woken yet was due to exhaustion and starvation. Jaskier on the other hand was not fairing as well. A few of the burns had festered and infected and with it being winter Nenneke didn’t have access to the herbs she needed to help him. The wars that Nilfgaard had waged had wiped out her stores. She sent some of her people out to check apothecaries but it would be a while before they returned even if they were able to find what she needed.

“It’s not looking good Geralt,” the priestess told him, trying to prepare him for the worst.

“He’s stronger than you think. He will pull through, he has too,” Geralt said softly as he wrung out a cloth and placed it on Jaskier’s fevered brow.

Nenneke put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed it. “If you need anything, send for me.” She left when he nodded.

Naurel heard water dripping and it caused her thirst to rage as she struggled to break through the blackness of sleep. It felt like her eyelids were glued together and her mind was muddled and foggy as she fought to wake up. She wondered where she was because she didn’t feel like she was still tied to a chair. There was something soft below her. Memories of Geralt riding to their rescue flooded her mind. Her witcher had come for them! Geralt was there! Damn it she had to open her eyes, she berated herself. Finally, her eyelids fluttered open and she saw his broad back and white hair beside her. Breathing a deep sigh of relief that they were safe and he was with them she allowed herself to relax a fraction and focus. His body was tense and she knew something was off because he hadn’t realized she was awake yet. It took more effort than she wanted to admit but she was able to move her shaky hand until it rested upon his thigh. She couldn’t help but notice him jolt at the touch. “A witcher caught off guard?” her voice was raspy and she barely recognized it as her own.

He’d been so focused on Jaskier that he hadn’t noticed the increased heart rate of the shift in scent as Naurel fought to wake. Her touch shocked him and he jumped, turning to her. “Naurel,” he gasped as he moved to the edge of her bed. Carefully looking her over and brushing the hair from her eyes he placed a soft kiss on her lips. When her arms moved around his neck he wrapped her in a hug pressing her to his chest. They stayed that way for a long time just breathing each other in and drinking in the embrace.

When he finally laid her back she saw the tears that were falling from his golden eyes. Reaching up and cupping his face with her hand she wiped at them with her thumb. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t find you sooner,” he told her.

“You had no idea where we were taken. It’s a miracle you found us at all.” He was beating himself up for it and she knew it. “This isn’t your fault.”

“I should have protected you,” he argued.

“You saved us Geralt,” she said again and caught his eyes looking to the left. She followed his gaze and saw Jaskier laying in the bed next to hers. “Jaskier?”

Geralt lowered his head. “He’s not doing well. Nenneke is trying but the infection is bad. If I had gotten there sooner,” he trailed off.

“Then he would still have the infection,” Nenneke said from behind him.

Naurel looked up and saw a small, friendly-looking woman approaching and noted that Geralt didn’t react to her so she relaxed as well. She took a breath to say something but started coughing and couldn’t stop. Geralt grabbed a goblet of water off the nightstand and held it to her lips as he lifted her head. She took several drinks, the cool water felt heavenly on her cracked, dry mouth and throat. “Thanks,” she smiled as she eased the cup away.

“How are you feelin dear?” Nenneke asked, offering her a smile.

“Like I lost a battle with a dragon,” she grinned. “But better now,” she put her hand on Geralt’s chest.

“You have been through a lot, young one,” the priestess nodded. “The anomaly in your blood seems to be what is keeping you from having an infection like Jaskier.”

“Anomaly?”

Nenneke nodded. “There are several things we need to discuss but you must heal first. You are all safe here. Rest and recover.”

“You can heal Jaskier right?” she looked over at her friend. “He kept me alive through all of this.”

“It’s winter and the herbs I need are out of season. I’ve seen people looking for them,” Nenneke explained. “If they can be found they will be.”

Naurel chewed at her bottom lip worrying a split there causing it to bleed again. She hadn’t realized until she felt Geralt’s thumb gently free the abused flesh from her teeth with a soft hum of admonishment. “Do you have a bed for the herbs where dead husks are?”

“Of course but the dead plant has no healing properties,” Nennenke explained.

“Take me there,” Naurel pushed herself to a sitting position.

“No,” Geralt’s booming voice was jarring. “You are not strong enough to be up. It will do no good to make yourself worse just to see a plot.”

“I know it makes no sense but please. You can carry me if you want but I need to get to that garden.” She was terrified of what she was about to do but she refused to let Jaskier die because she was afraid of repercussions. She could help and she would.

“Naurel, stop,” Geralt pushed her back against the pillow with no effort at all she was so weak. “Nenneke is doing all she can.”

“But I can help!” she insisted. “I’m going, Geralt! You can help me or I can go on my own.”

He shook his head as she tried with all she had to remove his hand from her chest and stand up. “You are going to hurt yourself. Naurel! Meletele you are stubborn,” he sighed in defeat. Standing he scooped her up in his arms and followed Nenneke out to the gardens to the small plot where the herbs she needed were normally.

“Put me down please,” Naurel urged. She wasn’t surprised when he knelt with her instead of just laying her down. She looked around for anything she could use to cut herself, her eyes finally settling on a pair of sheers that had been left near the edge of the garden. “I need those,” she pointed and told Nenneke. The priestess handed them to her curious as to why she was doing this. She and Geralt shared a worried look as the redhead took the sheers.

“Naurel!” Geralt growled when she cut the flesh of her palm with the sheers. “What are you doing!”

She moved her hand over the dead husks before Geralt could grab it and let the blood drip over them as she said a prayer. She felt the energy leave her body and prayed it was enough as she lost consciousness again.

Nenneke gasped and Geralt jumped to his feet holding Naurel to his chest. “How?” he whispered.

“I.. it can’t be,” Nenneke shook her head.

“What?” the witcher asked again.

“There are legends but I didn’t think they were real. It was so long ago,” she said as she quickly picked the now live and healthy herbs.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” he demanded!

“I will explain, I promise but right now I have to get these herbs to Jaskier. Bring her back to bed so she can rest.”

Geralt growled, unhappy that he still didn’t understand but he did as she said. He felt Naurel stir as they walked through the halls. “I’ve got you,” he soothed as her small arms wound around his neck and she buried against his chest.

Wolf and flame tag list

@kneelforloki

@shellyshellshell

@warriormirkwood

@mollymal

#geralt x reader #witcher geralt #geralt z rivii #geralt of rivia #witcher fanfiction #the witcher #the witcher netflix

[thedemonofcat]

Geralt and Jaskier's first night together was a culmination of months of tension and unspoken desire. The sexual tension between them was palpable. The explosion of emotion and love that occurred that night was something that both of them had been waiting for, for what felt like an eternity. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word of love was filled with a depth of feeling that neither of them had ever experienced before

In the morning, Geralt was the first to wake up. He couldn't help but feel happy when he saw Jaskier's peaceful sleeping face next to him. But that happiness was short-lived when Geralt caught a whiff of blood in the air. Suddenly, his eyes were drawn to the bruises and bite marks all over Jaskier's body. A wave of panic swept over Geralt's mind as he thought about how he had hurt Jaskier in the heat of the moment.

Unable to bear the thought of seeing Jaskier in pain, Geralt left quietly without waking him up. As he wandered aimlessly through the forest, his thoughts were consumed with self-doubt and regret. He couldn't believe that he had allowed himself to lose control and hurt someone he cared for so deeply

When Jaskier woke up and found Geralt gone, he was hurt and confused. He had thought that their night together had been perfect, that they had finally found what they had both been searching for. The idea that Geralt could have seen him as nothing more than a whore was almost too much to bear.

Geralt and Jaskier's reunion was tense and fraught with emotion. Geralt admitted to his fears and guilt over hurting Jaskier, and Jaskier was able to express his own desires and needs, reminding Geralt that he had wanted everything that had happened in the heat of passion.

They decided to try again, this time taking things slower and more gently. Geralt was still haunted by his fear of causing Jaskier pain, but Jaskier was patient and understanding. They explored each other's bodies with a newfound tenderness and love, taking the time to communicate and understand each other's desires.

#the witcher netflix #joey batey #geralt of rivia #jaskier the witcher #the witcher #henry cavill #the witcher jaskier #geralt x jaskier #geraskier #fic ideas