#geralt x jaskier
me, lazily overpainting something I started with into this fandom? yeah!!
(Also I said, let me quote "I’ll occasionally do a piece, I think." ajshhjjs)
Also, the first one was kinda softer, but blander. This one has Jaskier, probably snorting like a trumpet. Also b e a r d.
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Eskel: And what do you say when you want to express your feelings towards Jaskier?
Geralt: I love you against my better judgment.
Yennefer: And what do you say when Geralt comes to ask for your forgiveness?
Jaskier: I would leave and never speak to you again, but my attraction to toxic men makes me want to sleep with you instead
Yennefer: also, relatable
Yennefer: but still a big no
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oh to be a bard with a lute in a forest trailing around after your very best friend in the whole wide world, singing through the hours and enjoying the comfort of a warm inn at night…
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(a sad one. implied mcd.)
“I dreamed of home,” Geralt murmurs into his pillow.
The bed shifts as another body moves closer, the covers slipping down to expose Geralt’s shoulder, letting in the chilled morning air.
“What’s it like?”
Jaskier’s whisper is barely audible with sleep weighing down on him, but his arm wraps around Geralt’s waist by instinct, as if he belongs there.
“A bit cold.” Geralt pulls Jaskier’s body flush against him to keep in the heat, their legs intertwining. “Not now though.”
Soft breaths fan over the skin of Geralt’s neck, warm and slow. Geralt buries his nose into sleep-rumpled hair and presses a kiss there, feeling Jaskier drift off with every heartbeat, himself ready to follow.
“Tell me more?”
Geralt blinks to see their room in the faint morning light, the little home they built together. He describes it to Jaskier.
“It’s…small, enough for us. There’s a rug on the floor, and cushions on the chairs. You insisted on buying soft things for me. The hearth is your favorite part of the place, even though it never burns through the night. We have to keep each other warm before the sun rises. Your books are right there on the shelves—they are a mess. You promised to organize, but you are you, so…”
As he speaks, Jaskier lets out a few chuckles here and there, his fingers ending up threaded into Geralt’s hair. Love flows in Geralt’s heart as he gets to the lute hanging on the wall, and the wooden chest in the corner where his twin swords rest, now covered in dust.
“You work on that desk, writing music, too often well into the night. I ask you to come back to me, and you do.”
“I’ll always come back to you.”
“Yes. You always come back to me, and hold me, just like this.”
Jaskier’s arms tighten. “What else?”
“I can hear the sea in the distance. You can’t. I describe it to you, how the waves lap at the shore, how the birds soar across the sky. You tell me I’m showing off, but I’m not, Jask. The sea is beautiful, even when it’s away.”
Geralt can hear it now, the gentle rhythm that’s melded into his every heartbeat, the sound that tells him that he is home. He is home, as long as he stays here, in bed with Jaskier, loved by Jaskier, holding onto Jaskier…
They should be warming up by now, but for some reason, Geralt only feels…colder. A familiar emptiness fills his ribcage.
“Will you dream of it tomorrow?”
“Hmm?” Geralt sighs with reluctance, chasing Jaskier as he retreats.
“Home. Me.” Jaskier pulls away, his eyes glistening despite the smile on his lips. “Will you see me tomorrow?”
Geralt frowns. “Of course I will.”
Tears roll down Jaskier’s cheeks, and Geralt kisses them away, each with a silent promise.
“You shouldn’t.” Jaskier holds onto him in return. “It’ll keep hurting.”
“I don’t mind.”
Geralt will see Jaskier every day for the rest of his life if he could, even if it leaves his heart shattered. So he keeps kissing Jaskier, keeps erasing those tears, clinging to the moment of bliss with all his might.
Until it disappears. The room by the coast fades into nothing, the sound of waves gone without a trace.
Geralt wakes up in a forest clearing with dew on his cheeks, alone and cold. In the distance, Roach roams in glimmering dawn. An elven lute is strapped on her saddle, next to a witcher’s twin swords.
Touching his lips briefly, Geralt rises for a new day on the path.
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Whump in B Sharp
Some Jaskier whump for @thewitcherbog‘s Whumptober prompt: Hidden Wound/Injury.
Teen, Warnings: mild blood, injury and wound care. 1700 words.
Fucking bandits. Geralt has no problem putting monsters out of their misery, but part of him does feel a little bad when he’s forced into killing the armed robbers. Isn’t there enough evil in the world without bringing humans into the mix? He’d given them an out, but of course they were too stupid to take it.
He sighs and looks at the mess around them. Thankfully it was a small group, and he’d only had to kill a few of them before the rest scattered. He starts looting the bodies, because it’s a shame to let things go to waste, and spares a glance over his shoulder to look for the bard.
Jaskier he reminds himself. Hadn’t it been easier to just refer to him by his trade and ignore the growing fondness he felt for the man? After so many years alone, the shock of having someone besides Roach to talk to had been difficult at first, but Jaskier grew on him like mold on old bread. There would be no getting rid of him now.
The first few months had been stilted and awkward, but now he finds himself missing Jaskier when he has to leave him in a town for a night or two. It turns out not being stuck in his own head after a bad day helps keep his mood up, too. Who would have thought? Geralt smirks to himself and eyes up a broken sword, wondering if it’s worth the hassle of carrying it to sell. He tosses it to the side and stands up to talk to Jaskier.
“All set?” he asks, even though the bard seems to just be standing there, carefully avoiding the dead bodies. Oh right. Normal people aren’t used to this kind of violence. He should say something comforting. “You handled yourself well,” he says with a hint of a smile, and Jaskier seems to perk up at the compliment.
“That certainly was a rush, wasn’t it?” Jaskier asks, his voice breathy and shallow. “I know you’ve told me Roach isn’t here to cater to me, but would you mind terribly if I had her carry my lute for a bit? I fear I find myself a little winded after that scrap.”
“She can take it until we get to town,” Geralt agrees with a nod. He adds his loot to Roach’s saddlebags and then holds out a hand for Jaskier’s case before adding that, too. Swinging a leg over Roach, he offers what he hopes is a friendly glance down at Jaskier and moves Roach into a trot.
They move in silence for a while, and Geralt takes the time to surreptitiously study the bard. Melitele knows he can’t watch him while he’s paying attention. Geralt purses his lips and tries to shove down the protective feelings that threaten to crop up. Yes, Jaskier is gorgeous with his pink lips and his impossibly blue eyes, but his kind isn’t meant for someone like Geralt. Give it another few months and then he’ll be tucked away in a noble’s court for the winter, laughing about how he managed to survive an entire summer at a witcher’s side.
Though Jaskier does seem sturdier than he was when they first met; like his time on the path with Geralt has been good for him. While it’s hard to imagine this kind of life being truly good for anyone, it’s easy to see Jaskier’s muscles have built up and he seems to be moving more smoothly along the dirt roads.
Or at least he normally does.
Geralt narrows his eyes and focuses on the stiff way Jaskier is walking. He curses himself for not noticing it earlier, but clearly something is wrong. Sniffing the air, it’s not hard to pick up the light scent of blood.
“What’s wrong?” Geralt asks quickly, and Jaskier tenses up at his words. He waves a hand at him and keeps walking, even though his posture suffers for it.
“Don’t worry about me,” Jaskier tells him brightly, “Nothing’s the matter. Just enjoying the sunshine and the hint of autumn on the breeze. If I get lost in my thoughts, it’s because I’m composing.”
Geralt lets it go for a few minutes, but it’s obvious something has happened. Jaskier seems to be favoring his left side, and is walking with his arms crossed over his stomach. He’s never seen him so closed off; he’s always moving, always singing or humming or spouting nonsense while they travel.
He’s about to ask again, when Jaskier lets out a surprised squeak and crumples to the road. Geralt is off of Roach before she even stops, dropping to his knees and checking over the bard. He wants to yell at him, wants to tell him how incredibly stupid this is, but his voice gets stuck in his throat as he looks for injuries.
Jaskier’s eyes are closed, but he’s breathing.
Geralt opens Jaskier’s doublet wider and curses under his breath at the patch of red on the shirt beneath it. He gently lifts the shirt and assesses the damage. Jaskier’s skin is pale and coated with half-dried blood, but the wound is still oozing slowly. Why would he hide this?
Pushing his thoughts aside, Geralt focuses on controlling what he can. He scoops Jaskier into his arms and whistles for Roach to follow him as he moves out of the road. He sets Jaskier down beneath the shade of a tree along the side of the road and then grabs his supplies from Roach’s saddlebags.
His mind blanks as he works on cleaning the injury, and he tries not to think about who he is treating so much as what needs to be done. Once the blood is wiped away, he realizes that it needs to be stitched up. He’s not sure whether to be glad or alarmed that Jaskier doesn’t wake up as he sews the cut closed, but he finds himself rambling to him anyway. A steady stream of soothing words tumble from his lips as he works.
When it becomes clear that Jaskier won’t wake up right away, Geralt picks him up and carries him deeper into the forest. He gently lays him down and quickly sets up camp. Is heat good for human healing? Or do they need the cold? Should he start a fire or find a cool stream?
“Fuck,” Geralt grunts to himself before staring down at Jaskier. Apparently his feelings - what a horrific thing to have! - are stronger than previously believed. He rubs a hand over his face and grabs his potion supplies. Anything meant for a witcher will kill him, but Geralt gathers a handful of herbs and flowers known for their healing properties and manages to make a rough poultice out of them.
Jaskier looks like he’s asleep, but his blood-stained clothing ruins the illusion. Dropping to his knees, Geralt coats his fingers and spreads the mixture over the harsh line of the wound. He flinches and starts stirring, and Geralt rushes to grab a water skin.
“Gr’alt?” Jaskier whimpers as his eyelids blink open.
“Don’t move, you idiot,” Geralt grumbles, glad he’s allowed to be pissed now. Because what kind of person hides an injury like this? Why would he go around worrying people like this? It’s very inconsiderate.
“I fainted?” Jaskier asks, having the decency to look ashamed. He tries to lean up, even though Geralt told him not to, so he places a hand on the center of Jaskier’s chest and holds him still.
“You’ll pull the stitches. Drink,” he orders, lifting Jaskier’s head just enough that he can sip some water. Once he’s had enough, Geralt glares down at him. “You worried me,” he says, well aware that he’s pouting.
“Not my intention.”
“Well what was it then? If you didn’t meant to pass out in the middle of the fucking road, what was your plan? Why ignore this?” Geralt shouts, realizing he should probably tone it down a bit, but Jaskier is going to pull through this and he has every right to feel upset. Why does the bard keep making him feel things.
It’s fucking rude, is what it is.
“Er, would you believe I hoped it was fine?” Jaskier asks with a grimace. “I mean, I didn’t want to be a hassle. I thought you might decide not to travel with me if I couldn’t handle a bandit attack. I figured it was just a little prick and I didn’t want to slow you down.”
“You’re just a little prick,” Geralt sighs at him, but they both chuckle awkwardly and Geralt figures things might be fine. “Just so we are very very clear...if you get stabbed again, please do not worry about slowing me down. We make time for stabbings.”
“Of course,” Jaskier mumbles weakly. He looks uncomfortable, and Geralt can’t help reaching out and brushing his bangs out of Jaskier’s eyes.
Jaskier beams up at him, and Geralt gives in, letting whatever he’s been fighting take hold of him. He leans in cautiously, giving Jaskier plenty of time to tell him off, but then things move in slow motion as he presses a soft kiss against Jaskier’s forehead. Jaskier sucks in a breath beneath him, and his cheeks are tinged pink when Geralt pulls back and clears his throat.
“I care for you,” he adds, mentally wincing at how strange he sounds.
“And I for you,” Jaskier admits with a grin. He reaches a hand out and trails his fingers across Geralt’s wrist, his pulse jumping beneath his skin at the light touch. “Maybe we can figure out how much once I’ve rested? I fear I’m falling asleep again.”
“I’ll keep watch,” Geralt tells him, because taking care of him is the best way he knows how to show what he’s feeling. The bard might need words, but Geralt works best with actions. Jaskier smiles up at him, his eyes slowly blinking as he drifts off again. Geralt lets himself caress his cheek - his face hot beneath Geralt’s fingers - and then gets to work setting up camp for the night. They can deal with whatever this is once Jaskier is back to normal.
Tags: @halerune @honeysuckletook @mayastormborn @dani-dandelino @feraljaskier @jaskierswolf @littoraly-art @tothedesert @saphiramalbec @dapandapod @theweirdlynx @tedrakitty @sharinalein @theamazingdevilgivesmehope @iamaqt314 @silvermintnightprincess @rockysstupidity @live-long-and-trek-on @hayleynzlive @holymotherwolf @llamadumpsterfire @thesynysterunknown @rebard-main @larawrmonster @gryffinqueen-blog @lovelyscot @kingcitywitch @fangirleaconmigo @mothmanismyuncle @fontegagrilledcheese @thestarkwinter
Please let me know if you’d like to me added/removed from tags. Thank you!
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INCORRECT WITCHER QUOTES
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and at night, i shall watch over you
@calamarisnapfish wanted “ I’ve read so many bed sharing fics where geralt wakes up in the middle of the night/the next morning with jaskier all cuddled up to him…. I just wanna see the role reversal with jaskier waking up first to find that geralt cuddled into him during the night u kno “ on Discord, so I blanked out and typed this up in 30 minutes.
CW: small death joke
Jaskier woke up from the first rays of sunshine hitting him in the face, the hazy light coating everything in an orange glow.
His body felt heavy from sleep, all snuggled up under the blanket.
But, as he was slowly starting to realize, that wasn’t the only reason his body felt heavy.
There was something warm draped over his legs, pinning him to the mattress and making it almost impossible for him to move.
Slowly, Jaskier turned his head and took in a sharp breath at the sight before him.
Laying there, deeply sunken into slumber, lay Geralt, white hair spread out over the pillow, mouth slightly open and a faint snore coming out of it.
It was a rare sight, the Witcher almost always up before Jaskier, or awoken by even the slightest movement, never letting his guard down fully.
The last hunt had been especially draining though, Geralt barely making it out unscathed, and he had all but fallen into bed last night after he had gulped down a bowl of stew at Jaskier’s insistence.
His body had needed the rest, and judging from the depth of his sleep, it still needed a few more hours to recover.
Jaskier had been studying Geralt for a few moments when suddenly, the other man shifted.
That was when the bard finally noticed where that warm feeling was coming from: there was a very big and muscular thigh draped over him - even in the morning light you could see the scars on Geralt’s leg as it was peeking out from underneath the covers.
‘This certainly is new,’ Jaskier thought.
Usually, it was him who cuddled up to Geralt during the night, sometimes consciously, but mostly because his body craved the warmth and Geralt radiated so much of it, it felt like he was being pulled towards it.
And so every so often, he woke up pressed to the Witcher’s back, icy fingers clinging to his chest, legs tangled up in each other. It had taken him a few times to notice that Geralt was always awake when it happened, but he still let him proceed, probably out of pity because his weak human body would otherwise freeze to death.
To see Geralt do the same thing deep asleep made Jaskier’s stomach flutter; he barely managed to resist the urge to brush a loose strand of hair out of the Witcher’s face.
He looked so vulnerable and soft and human, nothing like the monster he was constantly made out to be.
Geralt’s mouth twitched and he moved, his entire body now pressed up to Jaskier’s, face hidden in the nook between the bard’s ear and shoulder.
Silver hair ticked his nose, but he didn’t care.
All he cared about was this very moment, this subconscious proof of trust for no one else to see but him.
The warmth Geralt’s body emitted spread over to Jaskier, wrapping him up like another blanket, so soft as though it was made from the finest cloth.
He knew that as soon as Geralt woke up, he would jump up and apologize, mumbling something about “If you tell anyone about this I will kill you” and “Next time this happens, just wake me up.”
But for now, he was still sleeping, his chest rising and sinking in a steady rhythm.
For now, he felt safe. And Jaskier would keep watch for as long as need be.
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Happy Holidays Geraskier shippers!
We’re very excited to kick off our first Secret Santa exchange for this wonderful fandom and hope that you’ll all take part in the fun!
What is this?
Geraskier Secret Santa is an opportunity for you to create a gift for a fellow shipper and receive one in return! It’s a wonderful way for the fandom to come together, show each other lots of love and appreciation, and make new friends!
We’ll be using the tag #geraskierss for all new posts related to this exchange: info posts, updates, etc. This is the tag for posting your gifts as well!
The Dates | Info:
Sign ups are open from now until midnight (PST) of October 29 (this gives you two weeks to sign up!)
Assignments will be sent out by midnight (PST) of November 5
We will ask you to posts your gifts during the week of December 8-15. We do this in order to make sure that people’s works don’t get buried in the tag. Sign-ups for a posting date will come in a new post in late November.
We chose to close the exchange early so that everyone’s works would be completed BEFORE Season 2 begins, so nobody’s work gets thrown off by the new season.
On your day, please post your gift and tag #geraskierss and #geraskiersource so that we can reblog and promote it! We will describe the full posting procedure closer to the posting dates!
Please see below the cut on information on how to enter and participate!
Please send an email with the subject “Geraskier Secret Santa - your url” and the following sign up form in the body to the network email: email@example.com
Username(s): (your username on Tumblr, and AO3 if different)
Your prompt: (one or two sentences, please - give your partner some freedom in creating your gift!)
What your fanwork talents are: (do you write fic, make gifs, graphics, vids? Are you multi-talented?)
Would you like your gift to have smut? (please note a rating, if applicable, e.g. I’m okay with smut, but wouldn’t want it to be above M)
Would you be willing to gift smut? (please note a rating, if applicable)
Please note anything else that you don’t want to receive or gift: (please mention any triggers, issues, tropes or types of works you wouldn’t want as a gift, etc.)
Are you willing to work as a pinch hitter? (to create a second gift, in case someone else can’t finish theirs on time - no worries if you can’t!)
The Rules of Participation:
Send in your entry email.
Reblog this post so more people can join you in the fun!
Send your giftee anonymous kindness at least once per week :)
Your gift must be at least 1,000 words or an equivalent amount of effort in another medium.
Your askbox must be open with anon enabled.
While we don’t require you follow the blog, we do recommend it so that you can keep track of updates more easily.
Finally, if you cannot finish your gift in time, please tell the mods ASAP!
The sooner we know, the sooner we can work out a pinch hitter so your giftee still gets something.
There is an EXCHANGE FAQ, so look there for further explanations on anything you may be confused by. If you don’t see the answer to your question there, please do send a message, so that we can clear up the issue for you right away! ♥
Good luck, have fun, and Happy Holidays!
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Idk what happened here, just Jaskier and Geralt
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“Geralt’s sick. I have a previous engagement that I cannot miss, and he told me you could watch her. Here.” Jaskier’s arms were suddenly full of a squirming Ciri, but his jaw was still slightly slack, staring open mouthed at the beautiful woman standing in front of him “Do you understand?”
“You’re…” he starts, and the woman rolls her eyes.
“Yennefer. Cirilla’s mother.”
geralt's sick. ciri works on her charm. jaskier takes care.
(part two to runaway baby, sequel to child, live and love)
Words: 3019, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Series: Part 2 of runaway baby
Fandoms: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Characters: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Jaskier | Dandelion, Vesemir (The Witcher), Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Jaskier | Dandelion, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Baby Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Sickfic, Comfort, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Getting Together, Literal Sleeping Together
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your favorite amnesiac is back at it again begging for help finding a geraskier fic,,,
it was one where geralt and jaskier had to get married and all the wolves were at the wedding and then an assassin tries to approach them when they leave and then geralt has a crisis of wanting to leave jaskier behind for his safety etc
I’ve pulled out all the search tricks but keep coming up empty. anyone have any idea what it is???
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While reading in his bed, Lambert overhears a conversation coming from Jaskier's bedroom next door.
Jaskier: *chuckling* I'll take that as a yes.
Geralt: Oh, fuck. Yes. Right there, ugh. How are you so good with your hands?
Jaskier: Guess I just know how to make you feel good.
Lambert: *buries his face into his pillow and groans*
*the next morning*
Lambert: Hey, Geralt?
Lambert: Next time you're busy fucking your bard, can you please gag him? And maybe gag yourself, too.
Jaskier: ...What are you talking about?
Lambert: I overhead your little conversation last night.
Jaskier: Oh, you mean when I was giving him a massage?
Lmabert: ...A what?
Jaskier: Mhmm. Sorry, we'll keep it down next time.
Jaskier: And by the way, if we were actually doing it, I would've at least made him scream-
Geralt, not blushing at all: Jaskier.
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Whumptober Part 2/4
Hi y'all!! Happy Hallowmonth! This is the second prompt for the @thewitcherbog's Whumptober event! It is a continuation of this story. Thanks to @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde for betaing my story and I hope that you enjoy the fic!
Prompt: "Hidden Wound/Injury"
Triggers: Medical terminology concerning internal bleeding and fainting
Pairing: Hinting at future Geraskier!
“I’m glad you’re okay too.”
Geralt felt a warmth bloom in his chest at the simple words. Jaskier was a poet, but it was always his most straightforward phrases that caught the witcher’s attention. Small endearments or moments when the bard dropped his act as the entertainer. Yes, Jaskier was always charming and full of life, but there was a difference between his stage persona and the man Geralt had come to know and care for. Not many had the privilege to see under that mask and Geralt was glad to say that he was one of the lucky few to spend time with the real Jaskier.
He was pulled out of his thoughts by a twinge in his side, holding back yet another hiss at the painful tugging sensation. Jaskier had been right before. He was injured and if the increasing pain in his side was anything to go by, it was bad.
A small sound of distress pulled his attention back to Jaskier who had somehow gotten closer to him. That was odd. Jaskier wasn’t a stealthy man, noises loud and quiet constantly pouring from his mouth, but he’d managed to move across the table without drawing his notice. The injury must be bad.
“Geralt?” Jaskier asked, trying to pry an answer out of him.
He wasn’t fine. He could tell that whatever was wrong was not going to be fine if he didn’t get medical assistance soon, but there had been more pressing matters. Not drowning, the griffin, making sure Jaskier wasn’t dead. Between the adrenaline and worry, he hadn’t taken the time to catalogue his injuries. Rookie mistake.
Jaskier was still staring at him expectantly, too stubborn to take no as an answer. With a sigh Geralt said, “Have you been staying in our room?”
Jaskier nodded, uncharacteristically quiet as he let his eyes roam over Geralt’s body. It didn’t surprise Geralt that Jaskier had known something was wrong before he did. Jaskier was incredibly perceptive of Geralt’s physical and emotional needs, something that had been born of years traveling together. If only Geralt were able to do the same. He could tell when the bard was hungry or tired and on occasion could parse out the intense emotions the bard let out into the world, but he never knew how to help. Food and rest were easy enough, but emotions? Those had never been a part of witcher training.
As thoughts of inadequacy roamed through his mind, Geralt rose up and quickly found his knees buckling under his weight. He faintly registered a gasp coming from behind him, but instead found himself focusing on the task of staying upright. His right hand twisted behind him to press his weight against the table, but the brisk movement sent a flare of pain through his body. He was on fire. How could he focus on standing when he was burning?
The last thing he heard as he lost consciousness was a familiar voice yelling out his name. Jaskier would help him. He always did.
It had all happened so quickly.
Geralt was alive! That in itself was a shock, especially after spending days mourning his death. They’d been eating, joking, talking! He’d said that he was fine! It had been a lie, Jaskier had known that the second the words had left the witcher's mouth, but he had been alive. That had been enough.
He should have pushed more.
Watching Geralt faint was nearly as horrible as watching him tumble off that cliff. In truth, it might have been worse. The first time, Jaskier had been horribly outnumbered, incapable of saving Geralt as he fell through the sky to his apparent death. There had been nothing he could do, no matter what his self-loathing had whispered to him as he drank away his sorrows. But this time that was untrue. This time he only had his naivete and stupidity to blame. He’d seen the way that Geralt flinched away when his side was touched. It was obvious that the witcher was injured, but Jaskier had let Geralt’s reassurances wash over him, luring him into a false sense of security. He should have known the witcher would underestimate his own injuries.
As Geralt had fallen towards the floor, Jaskier had watched, unable to move except to scream out the witcher’s name. His scream drew the attention of the patrons in the bar who were equally stunned to see the witcher falling to the floor. Most folk believed witchers to be indestructible, but this town had heard that this particular witcher died and were now witnessing him faint in their local tavern. Of course they would be shocked by the spectacle, he thought bitterly.
Although it had taken a few seconds, Jaskier soon found himself leaping off the bench and kneeling down to Geralt’s prone body. “Geralt! Geralt! Please answer me, you bastard!” Despite his pleas, Geralt stayed frozen on the ground, unmoving and unresponsive.
Jaskier looked up to see a burly man standing above him, looking nervously over the scene. The man looked about his age with a beard and steely, gray eyes. Panic raced through the bard’s veins, making him want to snap at the man. This wasn’t a show for some villagers to watch. This was Geralt’s life! Before the venomous words could leave his mouth, the man spoke.
“We should bring him to his bed so he can be treated.”
Jaskier blinked in surprise at the man’s words. The people of the town hadn’t been...enthusiastic about Geralt’s presence upon their arrival. Although they were not outwardly hostile they had kept a far distance from them, even upon the announcement of Geralt’s apparent death. This man’s offer of assistance was unexpected to say the least, but beggars could not be choosers and, although Jaskier was strong, he would struggle to carry Geralt’s bulk up the stairs without further aggravating his friend’s wounds. With a nod, the stranger knelt down and helped to situate Geralt between the two of them and lift him up.
That motion caused a moan of pain to escape Geralt’s mouth. Although Jaskier apologized he also felt a glimmer of hope. If Geralt could moan in pain, he was still alive! Not well, but at least he was still alive.
Jaskier grimaced using all his strength and care as he tried to maneuver Geralt’s body up the stairs. The staircase wasn’t wide, meaning that one of them had to go up first while the other followed behind with Geralt in the middle. It wasn’t the most comfortable arrangement for anyone involved, but Geralt was once again silent, something that worried Jaskier more than anything else.
As he dragged Geralt up the stairs, Jaskier huffed and rearranged his grip. “You’re fucking heavy, Geralt,” he grumbled. “Your pretty muscles come with a price.”
He heard a light grunt in response and Jaskier felt a tear fall down his face. “Of course you respond to that. I’m not sure if you’re indignant that I called you heavy or you’re trying to deny my compliment.”
“Right, of course,” Jaskier replied, trying to keep the panic at bay. At least he was responsive now. Better than before. They had finally reached the door and Jaskier took out his key, turned the lock, and let them all in. It was an uncomfortable dance between urgency and gentleness, but eventually they were able to set Geralt onto the bed.
Jaskier turned to the man beside him, examining him carefully. “Thank you…”
“Aleksy. He saved my son’s life. If there is something I can do, I am at your service.”
Jaskier vaguely remembered Geralt finding a child in the griffin’s nest before the fight had started, but most of the fight was a blur. He only remembered Geralt falling off that cliff. He was probably in shock, he idly thought, but he’d have to unravel all of this later. Right now Geralt needed him.
“Stay outside the door. If I need anything more, I will let you know.”
Aleksy nodded, seemingly unnerved by Jaskier’s bluntness and took his leave.
Now that they were alone, Jaskier started to unclasp Geralt’s armor with a feeling of trepidation. Geralt was a strong man who had seen a lot of pain in his life. Whatever was wrong with him must be severe if it caused him to faint. Jaskier had seen the man nearly be disemboweled and claim that he was fine. Taking in a steadying breath, Jaskier brought Geralt to a semi-sitting position as Jaskier straddled him and wrapped his arms around to remove the breastplate. If it weren’t for the circumstances, Jaskier would be elated to be holding Geralt like a lover in bed.
As the armor came off, Jaskier noticed that there was no blood seeping through his shirt. There was no gaping wound like he’d been expecting, but in hindsight that made sense. His armor had been fully intact except for the shoulder where the griffin had sunk its talons into him.
Once again maneuvering Geralt into a sitting position, Jaskier tried to remove Geralt’s shirt, but was stopped by Geralt’s pitiful moans. “I’m so sorry, dearheart. I’ll try to make it fast,” Jaskier said, trying to soothe his friend. When Geralt fell silent again, he tried again, but Geralt once again cried out.
Jaskier would have slapped himself if he hadn’t had an armful of witcher. His shoulder! The griffin had grabbed Geralt by the shoulder! Of course it would hurt to lift his arm like that. Lowering Geralt back down, Jaskier went to his bags and found the pair of scissors he carried to trim his hair. They would have to do.
Returning back to Geralt’s side, he began to cut Geralt’s shirt off in pieces. As he pulled off the fabric piece by piece, he gasped in horror at what he found.
Geralt’s normally alabaster skin was a splotchy purple and blue around his abdomen. That’s why he hadn’t seen any injury. It was all internal.
Jaskier thought back to his time at Oxenfurt, specifically one night when he’d gone out drinking with Shani. She had been teaching a course on medicine and she had somehow started ranting about internal bleeding. Jaskier had sighed at the time, wishing that Shani would just leave work at work. Now, he struggled to think past the panic, time, and alcohol consumption that fogged up the memory.
Internal bleeding, especially in the abdomen was not fixable by non-magic means. It was impossible to open up a human being without blood loss killing the patient. If by some miracle the patient survived, inflammation often took hold and caused a slow, painful death. In other words, there was nothing to be done.
Well, luckily Shani knew jackshit about witchers. Jaskier wasn’t going to let Geralt die on his watch.
Jaskier hurried to the saddlebags he had placed in the corner of the room two days before. He’d guided Roach back to town and tucked Geralt’s belongings far away from his view. His grief was too much to handle without seeing something of Geralt’s to trigger another set of tears. Luckily, he found one last bottle of swallow stashed in the bottom of the bag, wrapped in sheepskin to keep it from breaking.
Taking the potion in his hand, he ran back to Geralt’s side, noting that his complexion was much more pale than usual. With great care, Jaskier pulled the stopper from the bottle and coaxed it down Geralt’s throat, hoping beyond hope that this would not cause a case of toxicity. If it did, then Jaskier would have to find a way to contact Yennefer, and fast.
Sighing, Jaskier went to the door and poked his head out. He was unsurprised to find Aleksy sitting against the wall, his burly form cramped to fit into the small space. If he were in higher spirits, Jaskier would have found the sight hilarious, but as it was his good-humor had run out hours ago.
Aleksy looked up expectantly, waiting for any orders Jaskier had, something that Jaskier appreciated. He would remember this kind man.
“Is there a mage in town?”
“Not a mage, but a hedge witch that lives on the edge of town. It’s only a ten minute walk from here. Do you need me to grab her?” Aleksy was already standing up, preparing to run as soon as the word was given.
Jaskier shook his head, filing away the information for later. Hopefully it wouldn’t become relevant, but it was better to be safe than sorry. “No, that won’t be necessary. Geralt will be okay.” At least he hoped. “Thank you for everything you’ve done, Aleksy.”
The other man nodded, a grave look on his face. “I’m glad he’s pulled through.” As he turned to leave he hesitated and turned back. “Let me know if there is anything I can do. He’s the first witcher I’ve met and he’s not… not what I expected.”
Jaskier smiled for the first time since Geralt had collapsed. It was nice to remember that people could change. “Thank you, Aleksy. I will keep that in mind.”
Jaskier watched Aleksy walk away until the other man disappeared down the stairs. Entering the room, Jaskier pulled the wooden chair up to the bed to watch over his witcher. After a moment’s hesitation, Jaskier took Geralt’s hand in his own and closed his eyes, exhaustion finally dragging him under.
Geralt woke up slowly, unconsciousness still dragging him down into nothingness. He groaned, taking stock of his surroundings while keeping his eyes closed. He knew that opening his eyes would make his job easier, but the bright light he could sense from behind his eyelids made him wary of doing so.
There was someone holding his hand. From the smell pervading the room, it was likely that the person attached to that hand was Jaskier. Risking the pain that the light would bring, Geralt opened his eyes and found that he was right. Jaskier was seated in a chair beside the bed, his head lying on the mattress next to his hand which was currently attached to Geralt’s. Geralt blinked, taking in the sight of the sleep mussed bard. Jaskier looked tired in a way that Geralt had never seen before. He needed to take better care of himself.
Geralt tried to sit up and grunted at the stiffness that greeted him. Looking down at the source of his discomfort he noticed that he was shirtless, although he couldn’t find a visible wound. Confused, he used the hand unattached to Jaskier to pat at his abs, trying in vain to piece together how he had ended up in this bed.
Geralt turned around and found a pair of familiar blue eyes looking at him in worry.
“You shouldn’t be sitting up,” Jaskier muttered distractedly, pushing Geralt back into a lying position. “You need to rest.”
Geralt desperately wanted to spit back that Jaskier needed to rest. The black circles under his eyes made him look more dead than alive, but he bit back his retort. “What happened?”
That was apparently that wrong thing to say because his question was met with near hysterical laughter. Jaskier sat down on the chair, just staring at him incredulously as tears began to well in his eyes.
“What happened? What happened? You almost died, you utter ass! You fainted in the middle of a tavern because you had been internally bleeding to death for days! Fuck, you’re probably only alive because of you witcheriness and all you can say is what happened?”
Geralt noted that the bard seemed to be on the edge of a mental breakdown and stomach dropped. He’d caused this. All he seemed to bring Jaskier was grief. Why couldn’t he be better for the man he loved cared for.
Jaskier burst into tears, startling Geralt in the process. Although the bard was an emotional man, Geralt could count the amount of times he had seen him cry on one hand.
“Jaskier, I’m okay.”
At those words, Jaskier just cried harder. Fuck.
Gingerly moving into a sitting position, he gathered the bard into his arms. It was a bit uncomfortable, but Jaskier needed him. He could ignore a few moments of discomfort if it made Jaskier feel better. He wasn’t good with words, but he could do this.
They stayed like that for a while. It could have been minutes or hours. To be honest, his time perception was fucked after the past few days. He’d spent most of them passed out. Eventually Jaskier calmed down, his breath evening out as he clung to his shoulders.
“Are you feeling better?”
Jaskier swatted his shoulder for the trouble of asking. “I should be asking you that!”
Geralt chuckled, drawing Jaskier closer. The bard was still trembling and that was unacceptable. Over the years, Geralt had found that Jaskier was a tactile man who thrived with physical contact. The least he could do was hold Jaskier when he needed the comfort, especially when he was the source of the bard’s distress.
There was silence as Geralt held the bard as Jaskier ran his fingers through his silver hair. It was...nice. Peaceful. He liked it when Jaskier played with his hair.
“Don’t lie to me again.”
Geralt lifted his head to make eye-contact with Jaskier who looked utterly wrought with grief. He hated to see the light in the bard’s eyes dulled like this.
“What do you mean?” Geralt asked, drawing Jaskier close once more.
“I mean don’t lie to me, Geralt. You said you were fine and next thing I know you’re lying on the floor of a tavern. I thought you’d died! Again!” Geralt tensed as he felt more tears fall onto his shoulder. “I thought you’d died and it would’ve been my fault because I hadn’t noticed…”
Geralt stopped Jaskier there, knowing that if he built up enough steam Jaskier would spend the better part of the morning ranting away. It was better to stop him now, or he would never get a word in, and it was crucial that Jaskier understand how wrong he was.
“No. You’re wrong. It wouldn’t be your fault. My death could never be your fault, Jask. I’m sorry I told you I was fine, but I didn’t think it was too bad. It didn’t feel fatal.”
Jaskier sniffled. “Oh, it didn’t feel fatal? Well next time let me be the judge of that.”
Geralt smiled, glad that the bard’s usual wit was back. “Okay, Jask. I’ll let you take a look next time, I promise.”
The next moment, Jaskier was out of his arms, straddling over his legs. It took all of Geralt’s fortitude to remember that Jaskier did not see him like that, no matter the fact that Jaskier was looming over him like a lover would. Even exhausted and crying he was beautiful. It was horrible. Geralt let out a breath he’d been holding as Jaskier combed away a strand of his hair. Stay. Calm.
“Damn right, witcher.” For a moment, he could have sworn that Jaskier’s eyes had trailed down to his lips, but the next moment Jaskier was untangling their limbs. He must’ve imagined it.
“Let me grab us some breakfast! You’ll need the fuel to get better, and you will be getting better if I have anything to say about it!”
Geralt watched as Jaskier babbled while putting on his boots. He was beautiful, his eyes glinting with excitement at the prospect of a new day. A small smile played on the lips that were framed with an uncharacteristic five-o-clock shadow and Geralt knew that he was lost on this human bard. He’d never been more terrified in his life.
Hope you enjoyed! Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!
Tag list: @comfyswitcherblanketfort @kuripon @dapandapod @officerjennie @thewitcherbog @jaskierswolf @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde @bi-aragorn @fontegagrilledcheese @alllthequeenshorses
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oh yeah nothing big happened today, only a new amazing devil album has been announced
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reading fics got me like
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INCORRECT WITCHER +
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Oh hello there, fic idea that I'm gonna fantasize about for days/weeks on end but not write. Nice of you to drop by
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🌼 event : @whataboutthebard 🌼
day 4 sept 15
Prompt: Cutagens (cute aspects of mutagens) | Wuv the bard
a few days ago I saw this video of a diabetes assist dog who can alert it 's owner by booping them when their blood sugar drops, and thought it would work well for this <3
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An unexpected break of routine.
Bonus Jaskier the second he was at a witcher-safe distance:
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Jaskier's parents hire a witcher, because there are more and more monsters. He's explicitly told that witchers are dangerous beasts and that he shouldn't get near him, but Jaskier really wants to know what it's like to get fucked by the Butcher of Blaviken.
Words: 4949, Chapters: 1/2, Language: English
Fandoms: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Characters: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion's Father, Jaskier | Dandelion's Mother
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Additional Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Slut Jaskier | Dandelion, Slut Shaming, Penis Squirting, yes its a thing i swear, Multiple Orgasms, Rough Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Top Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, Huge Dick, jaskier gets railed, Improper Use of Axii (The Witcher), roach judges Jaskier, Horny Jaskier | Dandelion, Dirty Talk, a thought for the clothes that got sacrificed
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