#thief jaskier | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tielmamon · 7 months

Text

Part 2

"Oh- wh- hold on now, thought we were playing for fun?" Jaskier watches Ciri deplete his monitary resources with the sweetest smile, and truly he finds that he doesn't mind.

"I assure you, it truly is a delight taking your coin." He puts on an annoyed face and snatches her cards back just to squeeze another laugh out of her. Gods know this girl needs a bit of levity in her life right now. He wasn't good at a lot of things, realistcally. He's not skilled with a sword, not a pinch of chaos in him, but making people laugh? That he can do.

"Yeah, I'm sure you do." He glances at her, honestly more proud than anything else. Princess Cirilla of Cintra, a fiesty spark of a girl turned warrior. He wasn't there for her initial adjustment with Geralt for...obvious reasons but in the years when he was there, he's seen how brave and noble and irrefutably powerful she is. All that hurt and pain turned into pure determination. She's a flame, just like her mother. And most of all, Jaskier sees so much of his best friend in her. Not just the stubbornness to do good or fierce protectiveness over those she loves, but also the little things that make his heart ache. How she holds her sword, how she likes her meat, hell even how she walks. Undoutably a reflection of her parent's love and guidance.

Her parents...

The sharpness in his chest returns. Its strange. Years and years of loving Geralt had eventually reformed his once raging, constantly ready-to-burst love into a calm, surrendered sort of feeling. It's not that his love for the man lessened. On the contrary, every year he feels them grow and evolve into something more. Knowing that heartbreak was inevitable had given him a bittersweet sort of peace. So the pain in his chest that flares whenever he sees Geralt so openly love Yen faded with time, leaving a dull ache in its place.

Until now.

"I'm sorry you're here with me, instead of at the party." Ciri brings him out of his thoughts. He simply shakes his head.

"Oh, I'm not." In all honestly, he was a bit annoyed that everyone and their mother seemed to be invited to this conclave except him but then he remembers Geralt and Yennefer going together. He could only imagine what fancy, no doubt monochromatic outfit Yen would force Geral to wear. Then again, if Yennefer was the one asking he doubts Geralt would protest. Not as much as he would with him, anyway-

He cuts that train of thought before it sends him spiraling. He had worked so hard to keep himself incheck, keep his feelings to a minimum. To not feel, or at the very least look like the lovesick fool he was before.

"Valdo's off key warblng would make my ears bleed." He settles on a believable and admittedly true excuse. Valdo's overdramatic (even for him) vocals are definitely a factor, but he'd rather listen to that noise for days than watch Geralt dance Yennefer across the ballroom with that soft, painfully besotted look on his face. He might actually die of heartbreak if he does.

"Besides, I'm better off here." He smiles at her, reassuredly. He sees the princess sit up straighter, patting the spot beside her. He raises an eyebrow but sits down nontheless.

"Jask?"

"Yes, coin thief?"

"Does he know?" He feels his heartbeat pick up. He's sure than his body is noticibly tenses, judging by how Ciri looks at him like a kicked fucking puppy.

"Does who know what?" He knows what she's asking, because what else could she mean? But like a coward, he deflects. He turns to humor because really, thats his weapon of choice. She looks at him with such a sad look and he knows he's caught.

"Does Geralt know you love him?" Deflect. Run. Don't answer-

"Of course he knows I love him. He's my best friend." He prays that his answer is enough. It seems like it isn't .

"Jaskier." He is still and silent, almost like how the man in question often is. In the end, he finds that he's tired of lying about what he feels. So, he talks.

"I think so, yes. Pretty hard thing to miss after the years of songs and poetry and...well, you get the picture." He sees her face drop, and a certain panic sets in.

"Ciri- listen, I would never ever try and break up your parents, okay? I-I would never do that to your family." He says in a rush, desperate for her to realizes. Because yes, as much as he loves Geralt, he would never jeopardise this. They were quite literally destined to be together, and if Jaskier feels like his chest is being ripped out by a wyvern everytime he sees them then thats his problem, not theirs.

"You're part of this family too, you know." Jaskier has only ever been truly speechless a handful of times in his life. But when he feels her bring him into a hug far nicer than he technically deserves right now, he finds that he can't bring himself to say anything because gods, he wishes it were true. That he was part of this group. This family and not just a stray thread, waiting to be cut off and thrown away once again.

"You're family too." He nods weakly, a few tears spilling from his eyes. Smaller hands, not yet calloused by swords or spells brush a few tears from his cheeks using the blanket. He laughs wetly, complaining how dusty the blanket is, making him cry more which was definitely the real reason and not anything else.

"And I'm not upset at you Jaskier. I'm upset for you. I don't like seeing you hurt like this..." He sees her brows furrow, hands pulling away to clutch the covers. He chuckles, wiping away the rest of his tears.

"Oh, how lucky a man am I. To have such a fierce warrior-witcher-mage princess protecting me." He smiles but her frown doesn't waver. She adjusts herself on the bed to face him properly, laying on her side and slipping a hand to hold his.

"I'm serious Jaskier! You're happiness is important too." He squeezes the hand on top of his, mustering up enough courage to smile.

"My dear, I am happy with what I have now."

"Liar." He gasps, bringing a hand to his heart. She smiles, just a bit and he counts that as a win

"I would never!" He allows himself to breath when he sees her chuckle. He's exhausted, truly. His body feels heavy with the weight of his emotions and physical exhaustion of the day. Still, there is a determined princess cuddled up infront of him with furrowed brows and a sad look on her face that simply cannot wait until morning.

"We do not choose who we love in this lifetime. I didn't choose to fall inlove with my best friend the same way Geralt didn't choose to not reciprocate those feelings. Which is okay, because-...because my love for your father isn't one that seeks a reply. It simple is." Ciri recalls her memories.

Memories from Geralt and her in the woods, running and overwhelmed and terrified. She remembers Geralt telling her stories of his best friend- an obnoxious bard that told the best stories even though they weren't entirely true. The look of guilt and sadness and longing her father suprise had when he told her about him. The few tears she saw him shed behind a crack in the door the night he finally gathered up the courage to apologize to Jaskier for everything. She had never seen him so devastated.

The grin he didn't even bother to hide when Jaskier had offhandedly called him darling when he asked for the salt.

"But what if there is a reply? What if he does love you?" Jaskier shakes his head, looking down to his lap.

We could head to the coast...

Get away for a while...

Composing your next song?

No...No, just trying to work out what pleases me...

Jaskier bears his heart to Geralt on that mountain top. He doesn't breathe, doesn't dare look away. He waits and hopes and gods above, he loves so hard it hurts. Maybe just this once, he'll be enough. Maybe they could run away from this, from everything just for a year. Maybe-

Geralt stands and leaves. Jaskier turns and sees him disappear in Yennefer's tent.

"Darling, that's impossible." He smiles sadly, playing with her fingers. The memory of then mountain and all other instances of him and Geralt replay like an old song. He knew the melody and each lyric by heart by now.

"But Jaskier I've-" Ciri startles when Jaskier’s hand claps with hers loudly and suddenly. Her palm barely stings but she gets the hint to stop talking.

"I have his friendship. I have a-a family apparently, in you and Yen. That is...more than I ever dreamed of having. You all are more than enough for me." Ciri regards him for a moment, staring at him like she's reading his soul. Whatever she sees seems to satisfy- atleast for now, because she sighs and lays a head on his shoulder.

"You too." He leans back, cheek brushing her temple as they stare at the flames of the fireplace.

"Thank you." He pretends to believe her.

Part 1 (x)

#geraskier #jaskier #geralt #the witcher #geralt x jaskier #unrequited???#one sided love???#maybe not #Geralt sending mixed signals #poor baby jaskier #fanfic

80 notes · View notes

mochalottie · 18 days

Text

Masterlist

(Because even though no one asked for one...I wanted to do it to keep my brain entertained)

Avatar (Cameron Movies)

Oel Ngati Kameie (37k+ words) Series about Spider being adopted into the Sully. Post Way of Water.

To protect (2k words) Oneshot about Spider being injured on the SeaDragon.

Baby Mine (6.5k words) 5 times Spider called someone Mom or Dad and one time someone called him Son.

Eywa Provides (23k words) Multi chapter, complete - Feral Na'vi Spider living alone in the forest who is, surprise surprise, adopted by the Sullys.

Our Hearts Beat in the Womb of the World (115k words) Multi chapter, complete - Spider is adopted by Tonowari and Ronal. That's it. That's the fic.

For the Nights and Days of Life (387k words) Multi chapter, complete - All humans leave Pandora after the final battle leaving Spider behind. Oh, and he’s blessed by Eywa. That’s it. That’s the fic.

You Brought light, and new life (78k words) Multi chapter, complete - The comfort fic/sequel that everyone (surprisingly) wanted and I definitely needed.

What am I supposed to do, dance with it? (8k) Oneshot - Spider turns into a tiger. That's it. That's the fic.

Let the Wind Carry Us to the Clouds Multi chapter, ongoing - Aka the ikran racing!au I've snatched up and twisted into my own version, which features some Nocorro but centrics around our boy Spider!

Every Family has Someone Who Falls Multi chapter, ongoing - the time loop au where Spider is thoroughly put through the wringer.

Avatar: The Last Airbender

When You Can't Look on the Brightside, I'll Sit with You in the Dark (63k words) Multi chapter - a Zukka Alice in Wonderland AU where Sokka is Alice and Ozai is the Red King.

If Music is the Food of Love, Play On (4k words) Oneshot - Zuko essentially pining after Sokka in a Modern AU

Final Fantasy XV

Stronger than the Tides (13k words) Oneshot - Mermaid AU for Reverse Big Bang 2023

Blessed be the Boys Time Can't Capture (6k words) Oneshot - heads of families in Eos are vessels for the Greek Gods.

FFXV Song ficlets Series of Oneshots based on songs by Lauv. Includes multiple ships and AUs.

New Dawn (74k words) Multi chapter, complete - Ignis x Male!OC

Star Wars Prequels

Rock You Like a Hurricane Multi chapter, second part abandoned -The Obikin Band AU with Obi-Wan on drums, Anakin with vocals, Rex on Bass and Ahsoka on Guitar

The Mandalorian

Chakaar (22k words) Oneshot - Din Djarin x Male!OC Where a curious thief gets too involved with a grumpy Mandalorian and gains a family in return.

Inheritance Cycle

The World Ahead Multi chapter, incomplete - The Eragon/LOTR crossover that no one seemed to need, but two people very much wanted.

The Witcher

Destiny Changed Series of Oneshots - Jaskier is a Witcher and falls in love for Geralt the Nobleman. That's it, that's the series.

Voltron Legendary Defender

Space Family to the Rescue (1k words) Oneshot - Sick Keith is cared for by his Space Family.

Love is Endless (6k words) Oneshot - Keith pines for Lance in a Modern AU.

(Techni)Colour Vision (60k words) Multi chapter, complete - Klance through many film AUs.

#avatar way of water #avatar the last airbender #final fantasy xv #star wars prequels #the mandalorian #inheritance cycle #toss a coin to your witcher #voltron legendary defender #lottie writes fanfic #writers on tumblr #masterlist

17 notes · View notes

fangirleaconmigo · 2 years

Text

Jaskier makes up a different lie anytime anyone asks him about his childhood.

I was a thief.

I was a little prince.

I was betrothed to a fae queen.

My father was the head of a crime syndicate.

My mother was a unicorn. I am half unicorn.

At first it drives everyone nuts but eventually they just roll their eyes and tune him out.

But then one day he meets Ciri. She and Geralt are on the run. She is shell shocked and traumatized and has lost everyone.

And one night they are sitting by the fire and she has woken up from a nightmare and wants to know if things will ever be better. So they sit shoulder to shoulder in the dark, and in whispers, he tells her the truth. He does it without thinking. Without deciding. It just comes out. It's just right. It is the first time he has ever told anyone the truth about his childhood.

He tells her that loss and grief may never lessen but you can find a place in your heart for them and continue to live. Not just survive, either. Really live.

When they chatter and joke together the next day, Geralt wonders at how quickly they have bonded. But he's also grateful.

#the witcher #jaskier #geralt of rivia #cirilla fiona elen riannon #my witcher headcanons #my jaskier headcanons

613 notes · View notes

dapandapod · 1 year

Text

Living with a thief

So! I... found another one... Unpublished but beta read( Thank you Frank!!) in.. uh... october... xD whoops.

Anyway, please enjoy, this suited me very well today because i am very cuddly and snuggly and in need of soft things because of a shitty shitty day, so uh... Enjoy? <3

On Ao3 here

Hoodie stealing has always been Jaskier's thing. More than once he stole Geralt's hoodies, and more than once he was told to buy his own.

So he did. The same size as Geralt's because, obviously, it is the superior size.

But, obviously, it is not the same.

So Jaskier stole Geralt's hoodie again, and his own lies forgotten in his room.

For good and for bad though, two persons sharing the hoodie supply makes for more laundry, and laundry boring. Incredibly boring. They are down to their last two hoodies when Jaskier spills his glass of orange juice over the table and onto Geralt's lap, and they are down to one.

They eye each other over the table, Jaskier shaking his head slowly.

"You are not getting it back," He warns, chewing slowly on his overly sweetened cereal.

"It's mine," Geralt reminds him.

"May be so, but I am clearly wearing it, and unless you are planning evil deeds to my person to make me undress, I am keeping it."

For a moment, it looks like he is considering it. Jaskier himself is still a little distracted by the thought of Geralt undressing him, his cheeks heating as he is being studied, when Geralt stands up, chair scraping.

He disappears around a corner, and Jaskier decides he has won. The orange juice is still floating ominously on the ta ble, so Jaskier unfolds from the pretzel position on his chair, but almost falls off when Geralt returns.

Wearing the hoodie he, Jaskier himself, bought, that was buried somewhere in his horizontal closet (the floor).

His foot gets hooked behind his knee, and Jaskier has to stabilize himself by slapping a hand right into the orange juice puddle on the table before his face makes a close acquaintance with the floor.

It is cold and it is unpleasant and it is completely ignored, because what the fuck is his heart doing right now?

The dark navy blue hoodie fits Geralt perfectly, his hands hidden in the pocket on his stomach and his shoulders hunched up in a clear this-is-a-cozy-hoodie-pose.

"This isn't mine," Geralt says, like an idiot, Jaskier very much thinks he is an idiot, because what the fuck? It is way too early (noon) for an attempt at a flatmate's life! "Who did you steal this from?"

It is hard to form words when all Jaskier can do is open and close his mouth, half insulted half .... unidentified flutters in his chest and stomach.

Eventually he manages, thanks to the orange juice very helpfully trickling down from the table onto his exposed knee.

"You told me to get my own," He says, remembering he was mid-unfolding, and tearing his eyes away from Geralt, who looks all too comfy wearing something of Jaskier's.

Geralt hums at his back, sitting down a safe distance away from the offending orange juice and reaching for the egg he was peeling.

"You ain't getting it back," Geralt informs him calmly when Jaskier wipes the table and glares up at him.

"Thief." Jaskier complains, and Geralt, the fucker, laughs, doing terrible damage to Jaskier's insides, because that fluttering cannot be healthy. No sir.

They do laundry the next day, but Jaskier is as promised not getting his hoodie back, it seems.

Now, this presents an opportunity for an experiment for Jaskier, and some risk.

The flutters stubbornly remain unidentified when Geralt shuffles into their shared living room after a shower, in Jaskier's (Jaskier's!!!) hoodie and some sinful sweats . He looks soft and warm and cuddly and amazing and Jaskier is but a man.

Thank goodness for his already cuddly nature, because Geralt doesn’t lift an eyebrow when Jaskier launches himself over the couch the moment Geralt sits down.

They get comfortable under a blanket, and Jaskier very sneakily and discreetly sniffs when a puff of air escapes the hoodie (his hoodie) and it promptly smells like Geralt.

Rude.

"Why aren't you wearing your own hoodies?" Jaskier whines, like the hypocrite he is. "We did laundry."

"Now you know how it feels." If Geralt is feeling anyway near what Jaskier is, it is a miracle Geralt is alive. "You might be onto something though."

Jaskier glares up at him, pinching his side like the petty thing he is.

"Terrible. I'm living with a thief."

The next thing Geralt steals is not a hoodie.

It is a knitted sweater, one several sizes too big for Jaskier and therefore only a size or two too big for Geralt.

This is an attempt on Jaskier's life.

He almost swallows his tongue when Geralt struts, struts into the kitchen in it.

This time it is a black one, more in Geralt's style if you ignore the knitted part.

Once again Jaskier is struggling for words, because Geralt has sweater paws. Fucking. Sweater. Paws.

"That's mine," Are the strangled words that escape his mouth after a long moment, and Geralt gives him an eat-shit-smirk.

"Not anymore."

Thing is, Geralt looks good in it. Very fucking good.

Hiding in the newly returned (Jaskier stole it back) navy hoodie doesn't prove helpful either, because it smells like Geralt, and it is soft and even pulling the hoodie over his face to hide his flush isn't doing shit to calm the very, very unhealthy flutters of his heart, and this is the end.

"You will regret this," Jaskier threatens, dashing out of the kitchen to Geralt's great amusement.

Now this is when the experiment comes in.

Jaskier only wears like three oversized things. So far, Geralt has stolen two of those.

If Jaskier bought more, would he steal those too?

But he can't be too obvious about it.

The lady at the register gives him a look when he takes it to the counter, another hoodie in burgundy and, again, many sizes too big.

"Want me to put it in a gift box?" She asks him, but Jaskier shakes his head.

"It's for me."

Kind of.

Jaskier decides to wear it for a week, and lays the trap by "forgetting" it in the kitchen. Geralt is not a color person. He prefers the dark colors, if any at all, and dark red is... just a bit daring, even for him.

But the trap springs, and Jaskier has to reevaluate just who this trap was set for.

Because Geralt is wearing it, and he looks fucking good.

"I knew it." Jaskier says, squinting and approaching Geralt in a way that absolutely says nothing about the turmoil on his inside. Geralt in his clothes is... unhealthy. Not good.

"What?" Geralt says, like the bastard he is, playing innocent despite the faint flush dusting his stubbled cheeks. Weekends are great like that.

"You were just waiting for me to stop wearing it." Jaskier accuses, grabbing the pocket of the hoodie’s front to keep Geralt from running away.

For some reason, that has Geralt pausing, looking down (Tsk. He is not that much taller) at Jaskier like he is trying to figure something out.

"As were you." Geralt says hesitantly, in turn grabbing on to the hem of the hoodie that Jaskier is now wearing. Geralt's hoodie, that he wore last night after the shower, that Jaskier might have snagged because it smells just like him.

The trap was sprung yes, but Jaskier feels like he is the one who got caught.

"Why do you keep stealing my hoodies, Jask?" Geralt asks softly, and Jaskier feels his face heat up, all the way up to his ears. Fuck.

"Because I look great in them. And they're comfy." Jaskier manages.

"You do." Geralt takes a step closer, his hands drifting to Jaskier's elbows, holding him in place. As if Jaskier can move. As if Jaskier can breathe.

"Why are you stealing them?" He whispers, caught, trapped, stuck in the way Geralt is looking at him.

"So you would keep wearing mine." Geralt says back, just as quiet. "And because they smell good."

Oh.

"Oh."

"You never wondered why I let you?" Geralt takes a step even closer, and this is not flat mate close, this is... close-close. Socked feet touching kind of close, Geralt's hands moving to Jaskier's sides kind of close.

Jaskier shakes his head slightly, eyes not once leaving Geralt's. It's a lie.

Every time he strolled into Geralt's room, snatching one that looked the most worn, and strolled out, and Geralt didn’t stop him, he wondered.

Every time Geralt's eyes lingered on him when he would show up in them, yawning big and curled up on the couch, he wondered.

After Geralt stealing his sweaters and hoodies in turn now, he might have an inkling.

"I liked seeing you in them." Geralt whispers, leaning in even closer, their noses almost bumping.

That is when he finally has to break eye contact, because it will be his undoing otherwise. But that has the unfortunate effect of his eyes catching on Geralt's lips, and that is somehow worse, because he is smiling.

"Geralt." Jaskier whispers, feeling completely and utterly broken, barely held together by Geralt's arms.

"I think you liked seeing me in yours, too, didn't you?" Their noses are definitely touching now. Jaskier changes his grip to ground himself, and finds his hands pressed against Geralt's chest.

There is no telling who leans in first, but they meet in the middle, the first touch of lips electrifying. Jasker inhales sharply when Geralt's lips curl around his, fitting together perfectly.

He feels his toes curl in his socks, his fingers gripping the hoodie as if that is the only thing keeping him afloat. It kind of is.

There is a beat of nothing before the next kiss. A moment of stillness before Geralt kisses him again, pressing their chests together.

His lips are soft, softer than Jaskeir expected, and just a little dry. But that is quickly fixed when Jaskier sighs, melting into Geralt's hold, and his mouth opening just a fraction.

A hot hand finds its way to his lower back, under the hoodie, and it has him melting all over again.

The gurgling of the coffee maker makes reality come back, the heavenly smell of coffee reminding them where they are.

But they don't pull apart more than an inch. Jaskier can't stop looking at Geralt, and he brings his hand up to that stubbled cheek.

Geralt turns into it, kissing his palm and watching Jaskier fall apart as he does.

"What are the odds I can get you out of that hoodie?" Jaskier whispers, making Geralt chuckle.

"After coffee, significantly higher." Jaskier finds himself eyed up and down with a sly smirk that does nothing to calm him down at all. "Might keep you in mine, though." Geralt smirks before turning them and pushing Jaskier against the kitchen counter.

Oh. That's a thought.

A thought that Jaskier will hold on to after some more kisses and the morning coffee, and all the way back to Geralt's bedroom.

#no hoodies were hurt in the making of this fic #only stained by orange juice #geraskier #modern au #the witcher #getting together #fluff #geralt x jaskier #jasker thinks he is clever #he is but he falls for his own thirst traps #silly man #oh wait that was spoilers #dapanda writes

133 notes · View notes

hoomhum · 4 months

Text

Tag Game: Find the Words

I was tagged by @inexplicifics who gave me the words "kiss", "laugh" and "snarl" to find in my WIPS. Thanks for the tag! This was fun. :)

Kiss was kind of hard to find in something I haven't posted yet! But here's an excerpt from the very beginning of a WIP titled Ghost!Jask.

"All our girls are booked up tonight," says the madam as they drag themselves through the ornate doors of the brothel. She spares them only a brief glance, lip curling in disgust. "And the lads." "Please," Geralt says, turning blindly toward her voice. "We just need a room. Not company." "And a bath," Eskel adds, adjusting his grip on Geralt's arm, where it lays over his shoulder. "We've coin to pay. We won't be any trouble." He needs to get Geralt horizontal, needs to look at his eyes and get another dose of Swallow in him, and Kiss for himself; the wound in his gut isn't closing up like it should. It's burning with some sort of infection. The madam sniffs at them both. The room is full of women, and a few men— all employees, by the looks of them. They seem to be frozen at the sight of them. Wearily, Eskel digs into his gambeson and pulls free a pouch of gold, only stained a little by his own blood. It's nearly all that they've made on this contract, but it won't do them any good dead. "There's an attic," the madam says finally. "We don't use it, but for storage. I'll send a bath up, but you won't be dragging your filthy selves through the building in that state."

Laugh, from an untitled omegaverse AU, where Jaskier finds himself won when a mysterious alpha challenges his fiance to a duel.

"I'm sorry." He looks up to find that all three Alphas have stopped what they're doing and are looking at him with concern. It's Geralt that had spoken to him from across the fire. "I'd make him take you back, if that's what you wanted. If they'd listen. I was— not in control of myself. I didn't mean to take you away." Jaskier huffs a sad laugh. "He was going to take my voice. I should be thanking you." "He what?" "I'm a bard. Classically trained, studied at Oxenfurt, all of it. But he didn't care about that, apparently," Jaskier says to his bowl of porridge. "I was just a good match. Financially. He wanted my family's contacts. When you intervened he'd just announced he'd found a hedge witch willing to silence me. So I wouldn't be so. Annoying." "What the fuck," Lambert spits, looking back in the direction of town. "Damn, omega, you want me to kill him for you? I will." Geralt's expression is furious, a growl building low in his throat. "I'll help." "That wouldn't help anything," Eskel cuts in. He reaches out, as though to touch Jaskier's shoulder, but seems to think better of it. "I'm sorry. We'll find you someone better."

Snarl, from the latest chapter of Double Down, my thief!Jaskier story:

"You bringing him to poker tomorrow?" Eskel asks, moving to power down his laptop and collect his shirt and jacket. Geralt swears beneath his breath. They have a tradition, the three of them, to meet for a game at Vesemir's each month. "Why the fuck would he do that?" Lambert snarls, glancing up as he shoves his own laptop into his bag. "So we can stop trading the same two hundred crowns between us all. New blood, and all that," Eskel says. "Poker?" Jaskier joins them, buttoning up his shirt and collecting his jacket. "Ooh, is this like a team bonding activity?"

#the witcher #geraskier #wolf pack/Jask #Jaskier #hfdasjk just realized my excerpts are huge #enjoy them anyway please haha

13 notes · View notes

ab0rtsh · 3 months

Text

Tangled au lore

I completely removed Fidella since her essence in the series is unclear and replaced her with Jaskier! And so, here's the story of his appearance at Cassandra's. About why some animals ride other animals. In general, in my village, only dogs are intelligent (their mind is on a level with a person of that time), so all other animals remained at the same level of intelligence

(the events take place before the events of the series 5 years earlier) Once there was a thief hiding in the old Crown. Varian notices him, but his father, as always, does not believe him, so Verian goes to the king to tell about the criminal. But Frederick says that if the reason for the concern was really good enough, then Quirin would have come and reported to him himself. Cassandra hears all this and since she also wants to prove herself in front of her father, so she gets to know Varian and decides to help Varian catch the thief. Together they cover his lair and find the foal there. Of course, both fathers did not like the fact that they were disobeyed, but they had a share of pride in their children, so Cassandra was allowed to take the foal Jaskier is a sweet and kind horse, in fact the antipode of Maximus, although perhaps this is not immediately apparent due to his harsh appearance. He's pretty tough. Jaskier is also obedient, but due to the softness of his character, he may be afraid of something.

#cassandra #varian #tangled #tangled au #rapunzel #feral #art #horse #dog #digital art

8 notes · View notes

chemicalcindercat · 2 years

Text

The thief had snuck in through the window to the small inn room in the middle of the night, looking for his pouch of gold. Had Jaskier been a heavier sleepier, maybe he would’ve had the luxury of sleeping through his mugging, waking hours later to find himself broke. However, as luck would have it, he just had to wake up with the urge to pee right as the man with the dagger was crossing the room in front of him.

No sooner did Jaskier blink away the sleep in his eyes, than the weapon was lodged into his stomach. It had been a shallow stab, obviously meant as more of a warning than anything else. The man had told him to keep himself quiet, and he wouldn’t be hurt any more than he already was, but he was Jaskier.

He had never been good at keeping his mouth shut in the first place.

The bard’s first instinct was to scream. Geralt was two doors down- they had finally saved up a small fortune, enough to rent more than one room for the night, and Geralt had tired of Jaskiers noise- and would be quick to the musician’s rescue, surely.

As soon as Jaskier opened his mouth, the man clamped a stinky, sweaty hand over his mouth, and dug the knife in deeper with his other hand.

“Hnng-!” Jaskier groaned in pain as the dagger dug deeper into his skin, trying to quiet himself. He weakly pushed against his attacker, in a pitiful attempt to make the pain stop, but his efforts were met with more pain as his arm was twisted painfully behind his back. He cried out, before biting his lip hard to cut off the noise.

“Like I said, keep quiet, brat,” The man hissed roughly in his ear. “No need to bother the witcher, aye? Else it’ll be him bleeding out here next to ya.”

Jaskier whimpered softly, but kept his mouth shut even as the man removed his hand. Perhaps it was the blood loss, but the more Jaskier thought about it, the easier it was to stay quiet. He didn’t want to bother Geralt, after all. The witcher already had to put up with his noise constantly, he wouldn’t be happy about being woken up to something like this.

Jaskier nodded slightly, to himself. There was no point in waking the witcher, he needed his sleep. The world was already fuzzy on the edges of his vision; it would be so easy to simply close his eyes and never open them again. Geralt would wake up and realize that his annoyance was finally gone, and he would be very happy. It was much better this way. In fact, Jaskier thought as his eyelids fluttered shut, it would be much more work to keep his eyes open at this point than it would be to close them.

There was a loud bang from down the hall, followed by strangely familiar heavy footsteps. Another bang sounded, this one much closer and louder than the last, and that was finally enough to make Jaskier open his eyes again.

“Let him go,” The witcher growled, his golden eyes dangerously furious.

‘Oh no,’ Jaskier thought in his delirium, ‘He looks really mad at me…’

The man holding the knife into Jaskier was so scared, his trembling hand let go of the bard’s hands, causing Jaskier to slump over limply across the bed. A moment later, Geralt was kneeling next to Jaskier, some blood splattered onto his night clothes. There was a deep emotion in the witcher’s eyes, and for the first time since they had met, Jaskier thought he looked rather scary.

“I…’m s-sorry…” He groaned out weakly, clenching his hand in a fistful of Geralt’s shirt. “T-tried… not t-to… w… wake you...”

The last thing Jaskier saw was Geralt’s golden eyes going wide in horror, as the world went dark.

#geraskier #angst #jaskier angst #Making the hard suffer #Is my favorite thing to do #Got bored in class and started writing #Literally started with “Jaskier groaned in pain as the dagger dug deeper” lmao #Feeling evil so I hurt the bad #It’s as simple as that #Drabble #ending is up to imagination #fanfic

222 notes · View notes

limerental · 2 years

Text

geralt/jaskier, established geralt/yennefer

This is just. Crack taken seriously where Jaskier is cursed and transformed into a worm and Geralt realizes some things.

Aka me finally writing one of the horrible yennskier discord scenarios that first came about in summer 2020.

it's wormskier. It's very tender and gross. Like wormskier himself.

"You ungrateful, horrible, lecherous man!" echoed a woman's shrill voice through the bustling streets of Novigrad, tittering crowds of locals doing a poor job of pretending that they weren't eavesdropping shamelessly.

Geralt sighed as he rode within earshot, his red mare pinning her ears flat to her skull and shaking her head as he dismounted and led her toward the commotion rather than the stables.

"My dear lady–" There was the sound of glass shattering and a fearful squeak. "I fear there's been a dreadful misunderstanding."

"I understand clearly." As Geralt rounded a corner, ignoring the mare chewing on his shirtsleeve, he saw an older woman in a scarlet cloak brandishing a tall staff, glowering at a wine vendor's cart. The vendor was nowhere to be seen, but the ostentatious feather of a familiar cap could be seen swaying above the lip of the cart, its wearer cowering behind it. "I understand just what sort of man you are, bard. A liar and a cad. And a thief! Come out of there and face me."

Geralt watched as the woman pointed the end of her staff at the wine cart. A golden blast of lightning shot from the end of it and shattered several more bottles in a burst of scarlet liquid. A powerful bit of magic but with none of the finesse of a Brotherhood mage. A hedge witch, then.

The sweet scent of wine filled the street. Geralt frowned. He'd have to intervene before she destroyed any more. It smelled like a fairly good vintage.

"Come out, Jaskier," he called gruffly. To the woman, he offered an apologetic grimace. "What's he done this time? I promise to make him repay whatever you feel he's stolen."

"I've stolen nothing!" whined Jaskier as he flounced out from behind the cart, his hands held up absurdly above his head.

"This cur has stolen my granddaughter's virtue," announced the witch grandly, pointing an accusatory finger.

"Hmm," hummed Jaskier, likely about to make things worse. "Seems unfair to assume that that was my doing. Given that thing she did with her tongue, she must have had some–"

A whole barrel of something stacked against the building behind him exploded, spraying brining liquid across the cobbles, and far too late to do any good, Jaskier ducked to a crouch, covering his head with both hands.

"Jaskier," said Geralt wearily. "Apologize to the woman."

"I've done nothing wrong!"

"You didn't fu– lie with her granddaughter then?"

"No, of course I did. She was wonderful."

Geralt lifted a hand to still the thrust of the witch's staff.

"Jaskier. Say 'I'm sorry for besmirching your granddaughter's virtue' and let this good woman get on with her day."

Jaskier looked at him and slowly stood tall and square to face the witch. He settled his cap back on his head and adjusted it, the feather bobbing ridiculously. By the stubborn jut of his chin and stiff posture, Geralt knew immediately not to expect a humble apology.

"I apologize," he said with a sober twist of his mouth, "that I did not ask your majesty's express permission before taking the young lady to bed. As though she were nothing but chattel which you aim to possess until you choose to sell her virtue off to the highest bidder. It is you, I feel, who owes her an apology for not treating her as the mature woman that she is."

Geralt sighed deeply.

The witch howled in outrage, and her staff let loose a burst of violet light.

"You wretch! You horrible, prattling jester! You'll beg forgiveness for this! You'll writhe at my feet like the pathetic worm you are!"

Roach shied over the burst of light and sound, and Geralt clung to her reins, squinting against the brightness. When his vision had finally cleared of dancing spots, both Jaskier and the witch had disappeared from the street.

"Fuck," said Geralt, stepping quickly toward the charred spot on the cobblestones where the only sign that remained of Jaskier was the ridiculous cap fallen askew on the ground. Geralt picked it up and absently knocked the dust off it, the massive feather ruffling in a breeze.

Well, he hoped he would find the bard soon. A localized portal spell, he suspected. Can't have gone far. He wasn't going to carry this hideous thing around all day.

Something on the ground caught his eye as he turned the offending cap in his hands.

There on the dusty street, in the very spot where the cap had sat a moment ago, wiggled the fleshy pink body of a plump earthworm. It prodded at the edges of the cobbles and squirmed in the dirt in a way one could certainly describe as pathetic writhing.

"Fuck," said Geralt with as much impassioned weariness as he could muster and plucked the worm from the street to place in the upturned cap for safe-keeping.

"What took you so long?" asked Yennefer from where she sat in the upper room of the inn at a gilded vanity, dabbing pink rouge on her cheeks. Geralt was momentarily distracted by the sight of her reflected in the vanity's mirror.

"You're damn pretty, Yen," he said, the gruff words certainly falling far shy of what he felt when he looked at her. She arched a thin brow and turned to him.

"And so you dawdled in coming to meet me? It's well past noon, Geralt. I thought we were headed to lunch after you spoke with the magistrate."

"Something came up," said Geralt. His discussion with the magistrate about recent robberies he expected were the work of a bolder than usual pixie had gone on longer than he wished and solved nothing, which had led to his unfortunate other difficulty. Leaving Jaskier alone for too long a length of time never boded well. "Jaskier got into trouble."

Yennefer scoffed.

"Who'd he fondle this time?"

"Someone a witch would rather he not have."

"And he ran his mouth, didn't he?"

"He ran his mouth."

Yennefer rolled her eyes.

"Well? I'm assuming you didn't simply leave him to his well-deserved fate."

Geralt stepped forward to try and give the cap to Yennefer. She wrinkled her nose and withdrew her hands close to her chest as though the ugly thing would burn her.

"In the cap," he said. "She turned him into–"

"Ha!" Yennefer laughed, clapping a hand against her mouth. "Oh, how incredible. That witch had impeccable vision. I should send her a fruit basket. I should write her a card."

"Yen," said Geralt. "This is serious."

"It certainly is. It is a serious work of genius. I should have thought of it myself, frankly. All these years with him squirming after you like a sad little– oh, it's hilarious."

"He can't stay like this, Yen." Geralt frowned. He didn't look forward to the thought of carrying a worm around for much longer. For one, he wasn't certain what they ate. Would he have to take up composting?

With paid contracts so few and far between these days, he also didn't much like the thought of not having Jaskier's regular busking income. A worm couldn't play the lute, after all. Not well at least.

Yennefer peered to examine the worm more closely, interrupted now and again by fresh bouts of laughter.

"Don't worry, I'll look into it. It can't be too hard to reverse. I have the perfect solution for now," said Yennefer and flicked her fingers. An empty jar fell into her waiting palm, and she gestured at Geralt with the open lip until Geralt tipped the cap and allowed the pink worm to plop inside. Its shiny body gleamed in the lamplight as it wiggled half-heartedly.

Yennefer turned the jar back and forth in her hands in consideration and then snapped her fingers again. A little bed of grass rained down on the worm and a twig propped itself against the side of the jar. She twisted a mesh lid on and offered it out to Geralt.

"Home sweet home," she said with a smug little smile and turned back to resume applying her makeup, seeming in no hurry to look into it.

Geralt held the jar to his chest and sighed. He would have to ask the innkeeper downstairs if she knew anything about composting.

Geralt sat at the edge of the bed in his rented room, staring at the jar perched on a side table. Inside, the worm slithered aimlessly back and forth, its slender length poking here and there. When he had asked Greta the innkeeper about the composting, she had inquired what in the devil composting was in the first place and then offered him a mushy apple from the kitchen scraps.

Though he had carefully sliced the apple and settled a few small pieces atop the soft bed of grass, the worm that was Jaskier seemed uninterested.

Did worms have teeth, Geralt wondered? He resisted shuddering at the mental image that produced. He was a Witcher and had seen far more unsettling sights than worms with teeth.

Earlier, he had gone to lunch with Yennefer as promised at an establishment with private rooftop seating that boasted a view of the coast. They had been seeing each other often in the past months and had had a long stretch without any disagreements that inevitably led to grudges that inevitably led to both of them stubbornly avoiding the other. It was nice.

Lunch would have been nice, relaxing and romantic even, if not for the jarred worm sitting on the table between them. Eventually Yennefer had gotten tired of Geralt's eyes wandering to the worm as she spoke and announced she would head off to work on a solution to the bard's issue.

Which left Geralt sitting in he and Jaskier's shared room, unsure what he should be doing in the meanwhile. He had no more leads on the potential pixie robberies, and ordinarily, whatever Jaskier was doing would have decided his plans for the evening.

Presently, Jaskier was scooting about his small, glass prison, occasionally bumping into the propped up twig and shrivelling back into himself in a worm approximation of surprise.

On an ordinary evening, he would likely already be seated in the back booth of one tavern or another, drinking with whatever patrons took enough interest in the allure of a strange Witcher to sit at his table and try to keep up drink for drink. Geralt learned a lot of useful local rumors this way. Very helpful in his line of work.

Jaskier would be caterwauling some bawdy drinking song and flirting with anyone who allowed it and some who didn't, and Geralt would pretend his gaze did not follow the musician so closely.

If asked, he would say it was because his friend often got into trouble, which was true, but truthfully, he just liked to look at him. Not just in the height of performing either but ordinary times.

When they rode beside one another on the road, Jaskier gesturing wide with his arms and nearly falling from his saddle.

When they visited the market together and an enthusiastic Jaskier threatened to spend all their earnings on funny little baubles that he left behind in inn rooms half the time, but which Geralt could not deny him entirely, simply for his look of delight when Geralt relented.

When he slept, sometimes.

Geralt knew what it meant, of course. He had long ago given up on the fantasy that Witchers could not or should not feel. He felt a great many things most of the time, usually annoyance or discomfort, but such was life.

With Jaskier though, there was joy and humor and beauty. Sometimes still annoyance.

Absurdly, as he sat staring at the worm jar, Geralt recalled a conversation he had had with Jaskier early on in his acquaintance.

"Geralt, can I ask you something?" the bard had asked, tucked comfortably in Geralt's new bedroll as they lay beneath the stars. From his less comfortable recline on Roach's saddle blanket, Geralt had grunted, which Jaskier took as permission to continue. "Geralt, would you still be friends with me if I was a worm?"

"I'm not your friend as a human," Geralt had lied and rolled over to sleep.

Unsatisfied with that response, Jaskier had proceeded to spend the next several weeks asking him at any opportunity if Geralt would still like him if he were an absurd range of invertebrates, insects, and organisms, finally leading the Witcher to break and snap that yes, he would be friends with Jaskier as a fucking amoeba, now please be quiet, we're at a funeral.

Jaskier had been delighted by the confession and preened for days and proceeded to write a dramatic ballad about it that ended up being highly unsuccessful with tavern crowds, largely because the punchlines required a crash course education in university level science and every other peasant turned out to have lost a great many relatives to dysentery.

The end result being that Geralt no longer protested Jaskier referring to them as friends. If only because denial usually launched him into several verses of the amoeba song.

Now that he found himself in a situation where Jaskier was indeed a worm, Geralt didn't know quite what to think.

Could one be friends with a worm? What did a worm do for fun in its spare time? He wasn't sure that worms perceived even existence that way, spending all their life simply burrowing and eating and shitting, or if they perceived anything at all beyond the most basic of senses.

Did the worm who was Jaskier know he was watching him? He was fairly certain they didn't have eyes or ears. Possibly not even a brain.

Could worms drink alcohol? Did worms have sex? Surely, Jaskier the worm would miss both, and Geralt wasn't sure what else would occupy their time if his friend remained a worm.

Geralt didn't much enjoy this train of thought, imagining human Jaskier's vibrant mind trapped in a simple body like that. Unable to experience the world as he enjoyed it most. Wiggling about without purpose for the rest of his life.

How long did worms live anyway? Certainly not long at all if Geralt couldn't figure out what they ate.

Maybe he truly couldn't be Jaskier's friend if he was a worm. He missed him too badly already. It saddened him to see the wrinkly, pink creature writhing in its jar and know that his friend may never know true joy again. That Geralt would never get the chance to finally confess what the bard truly meant to him.

Geralt lifted the jar in his scarred hands and tried to make the approximation of eye contact with the worm that was Jaskier.

"I don't love you as a worm," he said to the jar. "I do love you. But please don't be a worm forever. I'd like the chance to tell you that for real."

That moment, the door to the room suddenly burst inward. Geralt nearly fumbled the worm jar and scooped it close to his chest. The intruder was none other than Jaskier himself, looking somewhat damp but otherwise the same as he had this afternoon, sans ridiculous hat.

"Do you really mean it?"

"Where the fuck did you come from?"

Geralt glanced down at the worm jar but found the invertebrate still decidedly inside it.

"That witch teleported me into a pond. Then I got chased by a rooster. Then I got a bite to eat at that little place just outside of town, you know the one with the jellied eels, and then–"

"She turned you into a worm."

"What? Ha!" Jaskier laughed. "No, definitely not. I'd know. Oh you–" He looked down at the jar cradled in Geralt's hands. "Oh you thought that that was… oh, how sweet, you've got me my own little stick."

Geralt decided he would not tell Jaskier who had truly set up his worm jar, knowing he would recoil in horror at having called Yennefer of Vengerberg "sweet".

"So you were never a worm," said Geralt.

"No," said Jaskier. "I think that's just an ordinary worm. Quite a handsome one though. I wouldn't mind being that worm. Nicely shaped. Plump. Flattering, almost, that you would assume I was a worm like that. Romantic, even. Speaking of, you were saying something earlier before I came in. Could we go back to that?"

"I love you," said Geralt.

"Oh," Jaskier breathed. "Well. I love you too."

"Not as a worm though. We're getting rid of the worm."

Jaskier pouted.

"It wouldn't be you," said Geralt. "I don't think worms have teeth. I like you as you."

"Oh Geralt, my love," sighed Jaskier. "You make the strangest sentiments seem so bewilderingly and stunningly romantic."

That evening, Geralt dumped the worm in Greta the innkeeper's newly installed compost pile out back.

"Oh I knew it was just an ordinary worm," said Yennefer when he confronted her. She shrugged. "I had to, I'm sorry. The look on your face."

"Hey Yen," asked Geralt later that night in bed, his face tucked against her side. She grumbled sleepily.

"What is it? It's late, Geralt."

"Would you–" he hesitated, unsure suddenly if this question was likely to get him tossed out, but knowing that a muttered nevermind would only drive Yennefer to prod it out of him anyway. "Would you still love me if I was a worm?"

Yennefer blinked at him, looking sex-mussed and tired and all the more beautiful for it, and Geralt knew with surety that he would love her as anything in any lifetime to the end of his days.

Several minutes later, he found himself slipping into bed with Jaskier, nudging him with his cold toes until he rolled over to make room.

"Geralt," whispered Jaskier as he shrugged up to sling an arm around Geralt from behind, his lips pressed close to his ear. "Do you think I was an attractive worm? Like, if you were a worm and I was that worm, would you–?"

Roach snorted at the quiet snick of her stall latch as Geralt slipped inside and bedded down in a pile of straw for the night. She wuffled at his hair as he settled down to sleep.

He would miss her, if he were a worm. She would likely step on him.

#my fic #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #it's got yenralt too #and its gross #the witcher

113 notes · View notes