#yen can have a little murder as a treat geralt... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yoursummerfrost · 4 years

Note

For the character ask! If you haven’t answered this already, I’m so curious to hear everything you think about Jaskier 👀

Sorry it took me a few days to answer!! What is time, am I right? Answers under the cut <3

Send me a character to answer questions about!

Why I like them

Oh my god where to begin. I love that he’s a horrible little bastard, that he’s such an interesting foil to Geralt in terms of personality and morality. Like, Geralt is very gruff and noble and then here’s this chucklefuck who’s super cheerful and charismatic who’s lowkey down for murder and is very selfish and ambitious! I love characterizing him with ADHD. I love exploring what kind of person decides to follow a Witcher around for twenty two years. I just think his narrative themes, which I have basically made up for myself with the help of this lovely fandom, are super neat.

Why I don’t

Don’t assasinate your professional rivals, Jask. Also, book!Dandelion is uhhh kind of a sexist womanizer, from what I’ve read. Some of his behavior in the first book of short stories definitely rubbed me the wrong way.

Favorite episode (scene if movie)

Ooh this is tough. I’m gonna go with the dragon hunt, because I’m obsessed with the pining and I like to let it ache.

Favorite season/movie

I’ll be really interested to see what they do with him in future seasons lol. I haven’t read most of the books yet but I’m spoiled for most of the overarching plot and I think we could have some fun.

Favorite line

“Respect doesn’t make history.” Shut up you edgy bastard.

Favorite outfit

Absolutely the djinn episode. Obsessed w both the color and pattern of that doublet, and the stupid bum bow.

OTP

Definitely geraskefer, but a lot of my fic ideas have been more geraskier-focused so far. I’m really into the specific brand of geraskier softness and pining, writing-wise. And also ADHD/autism solidarity.

Brotp

Renfri & Jaskier is truly a thing of beauty, okay? Jaskier would write her all the ballads.

Head Canon

Lol not to be redundant but ADHD!Jaskier is best Jaskier.

Unpopular opinion

I can never really tell how actually unpopular things are in fandom, since I definitely follow my little subset of people and this fandom is super buzzing rn. But I know there’s a lot of inhuman!Jaskier fics out there and I have read some that I really enjoyed, but it’s not as much my jam. One part of Jaskier I really love is how human he is. How his humanness welcomes Geralt and Yen into a world they’ve been shunned by, how his life is comparatively so small and short and yet so meaningful. And I want Destiny to have nothing to do with him. Geralt and Yen have had so many choices taken away from them in the name of Destiny and in service of a Greater Good that doesn’t even treat them well (it never does, does it?) and to me, the beautiful thing about Jaskier is that his devotion is a choice.

A wish

Uhhh there’s a certain Yen/Jaskier interaction in the books that I really hope makes it onto the show.

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen

I mean, I’d be Big Sad if he died lol, but I’m pretty sure *knocks on wood* he’s got plot armor.

5 words to best describe them

Bastard, loyal, ambitious, creative, loquacious

My nickname for them

Jask is pretty much the only other thing I call him? And, I mean, “bastard” xD

#1 #2 #3 #4 #5 #the witcher #jaskier #i love this ridiculous bard okay?#marvelousmaize

145 notes · View notes

bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher · 4 years

Text

your love is my turning page

(based on “Turning Page” by Sleeping at Last because I listened to it the other day and cried like...twice)

tw: whump, major character ‘death’, blood mention, canon typical violence but only briefly, snuggling, fluff

---

Geralt cradled the bard’s body gently against his chest as he exited the keep, which was burning to a massive stony heap behind him. His amber gaze was blank and his mouth formed a thin, grim line as he moved steadily towards the side of the path ahead, where Roach and the sorceress were waiting for his triumphant return. How disappointed they would be.

Yennefer gasped and covered her mouth with her hand when she finally saw what Geralt was carrying, her tone utterly disbelieving. “No, Geralt. Tell me it isn’t true. Please tell me that he isn’t-”

“We didn’t make it in time, Yen.”

“Geralt, I’m-”

“It doesn’t matter,” the Witcher interrupted again. His voice was toneless and his eyes were glazed and empty when he spoke. Yennefer worried her lip between her teeth, mouth still hidden by her hand. She reached out for Geralt with the other but he growled and flinched away from the contact, “Don’t.”

“Just let me-”

“Don’t touch him, Yen!” the Witcher bellowed, curling his arms up and holding the bard’s limp form against his chest. Tears leaked from his eyes, slow and impossible in their appearance (Witchers physically cannot cry, or so he’d thought). They made their way down his stubbled cheeks and fell noiselessly to the ground. Some of them hung from the end of his nose for a moment before plummeting. Some dropped down to form damp, grey marks on the material of the bard’s half-open chemise. A chemise covered in dark, drying smears of blood.

Jaskier’s blood.

Too much of Jaskier’s blood.

The Witcher fell to his knees in a patch of flowers and pulled the broken form of his best friend even tighter to him. “I...I’m sorry I was too late this time,” he murmured against the crown of Jaskier’s clammy forehead. His slender, long-limbed body still hadn’t gone entirely cold yet despite the blood-loss. “Gods, I’m so sorry.”

There were marks carved all over the bard’s torso, oozing blood through the thin material of his shirt; Geralt had seen the bloody sigils glowing faintly before he’d killed the crazed mage who’d put them there. The Witcher had pulled Jaskier’s shirt back down to cover his wounds and absconded with him, casting a careless Igni on his way out the door.

The mage had needed a human sacrifice. The mage had chosen Jaskier.

Yen placed a gentle hand atop Jaskier’s unmoving shoulder and Geralt heard her empathetic sigh. “I’m sorry, Geralt.”

“I waited nearly a hundred years for someone to come along and show me what love was supposed to feel like and I’d wait a million more; but only for him,” the Witcher admitted. There was no reason not to admit things, now, when he couldn’t ruin anything between them. He laid the bard’s body down beside a small patch of daisies and buttercups and let the aching, burning tears continue their cascade down his face. He didn’t say anything more for a moment; words had never been his strong suit.

“Tell him now,” Yen suggested, her own voice watery with emotion, “Tell him everything. I’ll give you a moment alone.”

Yen wandered a few steps into the treeline to give them privacy, to give Geralt a moment alone with his paralyzed but absolutely not dead bard. She smirked to herself and wiped the forced tears from her eyes. Like taking candy from an enormous, stupid baby. Can he not hear the faint beating of his little bard’s resilient human heart?

“I’d give anything to see you smile at me again, Jaskier. I’m so, so sorry that we didn’t make it to you in time. I’m sorry that you died like this, for the sake of a greedy, power-hungry asshole. You were so bright. You brought so much happiness to the Continent. You brought so much happiness to me.”

Geralt, still kneeling next to Jaskier’s limp form, brushed a stray lock of brown hair behind the bard’s ear and felt a primal sense of loss wrap around every individual piece of his shattered and slow-beating heart. “If only I could have caressed your skin as softly as I often dream of doing. If only I could have felt your warmth in such a simple, human way. You made me stronger every time you coveted my weaknesses, you know. Even when I failed, you stayed at my side and told me how strong and kind I was. How brave I was. Your heart was so delicate and human and fragile. You forced me to work every day to improve myself. I would have done anything to keep you from breaking under the weight of this awful world and yet-” the Witcher’s voice broke completely and he only barely managed to gasp out “-and yet here we are.”

---

Jaskier could hear everything. The too-sweet paralyzation agent force-fed to him by the evil mage was close to wearing off but until then the bard could only listen as the man of his dreams mourned his apparent death. He could only lay in stunned silence as Yennefer noticed the presence of the mixed herbs and refused to mention them to Geralt. Perhaps this was her gift to Jaskier; perhaps this was an apology. Whatever twisted form of affection she was showing her new friend for now, though, had the bard feeling more than a little upset.

He hated seeing Geralt so worked up. So sad. So hurt.

“I’m going to miss your presence in the world, Jaskier. I’m going to miss the way you smiled when you blushed; gods, I wanted to make you smile at me like that so many times...it was blinding. The way your lip would curl up and your tongue would poke out when you scribbled your poems into that damned expensive notebook at inns or near the fire. Gods, I-”

“I could fix him for you,” Yen offered, returning from the trees. It was almost nonchalant in its casualness. Almost.

“What’s the price for such an impressive feat?” Geralt asked. He smoothed the bard’s hair back again. He’d need to bury the corpse soon; he could barely stand to look at it any longer. It’s not Jaskier anymore, not without those sparkling eyes and that trembling, velvet voice.

He’d do anything to hear that voice again, even Jaskier was only cussing him out or calling him every name in the book. He’d listen to a thousand repetitions of every insult hurled his way by every villager across the Continent if it meant Jaskier was saying them with the voice Geralt knew he’d never hear again.

His voice was low and quiet when he asked the sorceress: “What kind of ingredients would you need for such a task?”

“I would need a sacrifice of equal value. Those runes can only be transferred from one person to another.”

Geralt’s head whipped around and his eyes widened hopefully. “Use me. If that will bring him back then take me.”

“And get horrifically murdered when he wakes to find his darling Witcher dead and buried? No, thank you. I don’t have a death wish.”

Smart woman, Jaskier thought. Just give me the antidote or whatever magical cure I know you’re hiding, Yennefer! Let me up! Let me comfort him, I’ve heard enough!

She’d clearly been listening to his thoughts because just as he summoned the worst of his insults to silently throw her way, Yen relented. She knelt beside Geralt and leaned forward, pressing her palm to the center of Jaskier’s forehead. There was a soft purple glow and Geralt panicked, “What are you doing!? You just said-”

“I lied,” she shrugged. “He was just paralyzed. You should have been able to hear his heart, faint as it was.”

“You...you mean…” Jaskier’s eyes slowly fluttered open and he groaned softly. The Witcher’s eyes were wide and shimmered with new tears as he leaned over the bard’s prostrate figure. “Jaskier?”

“Did-” he coughed and groaned again but pushed on “-did you mean it?”

“Every word,” Geralt smiled shyly. He hadn’t thought Witchers could blush, either, but here they sat; Geralt’s cheeks were pale pink and Jaskier was still heaving out labored breaths.

“Here are some basic healing supplies for the bard’s chest,” Yen interrupted, tossing a linen bag towards Geralt, who caught it easily. “I’m going to be on my way. You two need a moment, seems like.”

“Thank you, Yen,” Jaskier smiled. Geralt glanced between the two but before he could ascertain the bard’s meaning, the sorceress had fled through one of her portals and disappeared. As soon as she was gone, Jaskier let out the loud, anguished cry he’d been holding back in her presence. “Fuck me, this hurts! Fuck!”

“Fucking hells,” Geralt scrambled through the bag for some kind of pain relief. He placed a few drops of poppy tincture at the end of Jaskier’s tongue and lifted him slowly from the ground. “Let’s get you to an inn. I need to treat those cuts and I can’t do it very well in the grass.”

“My big, scary Witcher,” Jaskier smiled, hooking his arms around Geralt’s neck as he was lifted into the White Wolf’s embrace. “Taking care of me so well.”

---

That night, Geralt laid with Jaskier’s head atop his chest. The oddly patterned cuts across the bard’s torso were now covered in salve and bandaged tightly.

“None of my training prepared me for this,” the Witcher admitted, kissing Jaskier’s petal-soft cheek with the utmost reverence.

“What is this?” the bard asked.

“I am yours,” Geralt stated. It was a simple fact. A fact he’d accepted the moment he realized he hadn’t lost Jaskier forever. The younger man’s face went bright red and he nuzzled closer to his rescuer’s side. Geralt’s strong arm was looped around his back, holding him close. “If you’ll have me, of course.”

“Gladly.”

The bard leaned up and pressed his lips to Geralt’s. It was soft, tender, and endlessly healing. Warmth spread through the Witcher’s body, spreading from his heart to each and every one of his limbs. He pulled the bard completely on top of him and wrapped his arms around the man’s lower back to anchor him. Jaskier crossed his arms over Geralt’s chest and rested his chin there.

“Though we’re tethered to the story we must tell, When I saw you, well I knew we’d tell it well.”

“Is that your newest composition?” the Witcher asked, running his hand through Jaskier’s soft brown hair as he sang. The bard nodded.

“It’s a love song. About a Witcher...and a bard.”

“Hmm. I can’t wait to hear it.”

#geraskier fic #geraskier story #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #yen is there also being a bro #geralt whump #jaskier whump #emotional hurt/comfort #witcher hurt/comfort #geraskier hurt/comfort #geralt admits his feelings #geraskier first kiss #love confession #blood mention #injury tw

113 notes · View notes

missingartist · 4 years

Text

The Witcher’s Mate Chapter 19

The portal snapped closed behind them sending the trio spewing over the hard granite floor. Dust and grit curled up into billowing clouds sending the three into a fit of coughs and splutters. Jaskier poked his head up between a pair of legs and one hand that frantically twitched at the side of his neck.

‘Whose ever knee that is, while that is very pleasant, I am not sure Geralt would appreciate either of you doing that.’ Jaskier bit out, worming his way out from the bodies.

‘I forgot how low the floor was in here’ a muffled groan forced its way out front somewhere beneath the flailing limbs, a white-haired head popped up gazing around the battered room.

Vesemir had his blade raised and thrust in one of the bodies face before he even recognised the blossoming young woman and her annoying bard. Typically, the Witchers stronghold was only occupied during the most barren winter months, when work was made difficult from the weather. Most creatures limited their attack in the colder weather, drowners trapped by thick ice, wreaths. Kilmore and ghoul attack slowed to the point there was very little money, and it made more sense to hole up in the warmth of the great hall with food and ale sharing stories of the beasts and women they had met in the months of isolation on the path. But for Vesemir the appeal of riding another two months was unappealing, and there was much to be done at Kaer Morhen, the place had fallen into disrepair and could stand to have two months patch up before the others arrived. So, the flash of light and the three sprawling bodies was unexpected.

Cross-eyed, the bard stared down the blade of the Witcher, who grunted down in annoyance.

‘Vesemir long time no see, how are you? You old….Witcher.’ Jaskier smile nervously up at the gruff man.

‘Vesemir!’ Ciri greeted, standing up and pulling the bewildered former kitchen maiden with her.

‘Ciri! My girl, you’ve grown’ he pulled the slim girl into a bear-like hug lifting her off the grown entirely. ‘And who is this?’ Vesemir puffed out, catching a glimpse at the cowering girl edge herself toward the bookcases.

‘This is Adva…student of Triss, currently first of Yennefer’s hit list, suspected mermaid and Geralt’s soul mate, like actually soul mate.’

Blinking across at the older man, terror surged beneath the brunette skin. The gaze was heavy and piercing as the man all but dropped Ciri to her feet to look the mermaid up and down. Anxiety was back, and she felt like she had back in Brightwater under the scrutiny of Cersi, Tradi or the Vivian. It made her realise how bare she felt in the flimsy clothing Ciri lent her.

‘We need help…figuring out the mermaid and soulmate part.’

Ciri pulled back from her former teacher and smiled at the nervous girl, who eyes now focused solely on her ragged boots.

‘Well… I think we are going to need more chairs in the library. Anyone you annoy Yennefer enough to get on her hit list is always welcome here.’ Vesemir greeted, pulling Adva and Ciri toward the library.

‘Tell me everything. Bard bring three more chairs from the celler.’

‘Brilliant just brilliant’ Jaskier sighed as he made his way through the vast stronghold.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Geralt could not close his eyes; every time he did, he saw Adva being huddled into the portal in the strong embrace of Jaskier. Her retreating figure was etched into his mind for the past three days. The tightness of Ciri blouse over her breast and stomach, the lacing at the top of the shirt could not fasten so in an attempt to make them fit she had pulled the sleeve down into a peasant blouse, exposing her neck and that spot in which he buried his head in it during their night together, the pure scent that intoxicated him. Her hips had strained against the tightness of the dress, Adva hips the more shapely then his young ward, soft and supple, his hands still burnt in remembrance of how his hand buried into her ample hips as he ground into her feeling the wetness against me.

Scrunching his eye shut, he was forced to relieve that look on her face, the sadness and misery. He wanted to talk to her explain, but as soon as he advances towards, she flinched and retreated behind Jaskier. A furious range formed inside him, Jaskier, the man he had to save so man times who stuck his nose in one to many times, he had dragged her off for him, his little flower, his love, his siren, HIS MATE. Blood dripped from his hands as eight half-moons cut pieced his golden skin, the warm liquid dripped over his fingers and splattered noiselessly against the dirt way he lay. He could not bring himself to care or even feel the mild pain; he felt nothing, just the burning desire to regain Adva, to have her in his arms and wearing his mark as soon as possible. Without her, near him, he felt weak, near collapsed when she had abandoned him, but at the same time field with rage, he laid waste to the Garden, burnt the roses and reduced the fountained to a pile of stones. Before climbing on the back of Roach and riding day and night though forest, bogs and towns to reach his Witchers home, stopping only long enough for the horses to rest and Yennefer to reapply the paste to the runes on his skin. The fever still gripped him, the balm now lasted only a few hours, but he refused to let them stop for the briefest moment to reapply the substance. Instead, he had to feed the need to be close to her; so he rode on closer and closer to Kaer Morhen. As soon as they passed the town of Bastion, he could smell that scent on the wind, apples, and the sea. It calmed and excited him; a pang of anxiety took hold of him. It was something that he never felt before, a panic that gnawed at him for the inside out. He needed to get to her, to explain, to talk and to comfort.

Being told she was not human and possibly a mermaid in the span of a few hours was a shock. Geralt blink and he saw her distress flash against his eyelids, the tears. It broke him, and he wanted to comfort his mate, but it was Jaskier who swooped in. A silent growl shook his chest as he dug his fingers deeper into his palms, the blood flowing more freely, oozed onto the mud. At the minute, he couldn’t care less about any of them, Jaskier, Triss, Yennefer even Ciri could all go to hell, he could carry Adva away to live in a cave for all he cared as long as he had her. Geralt never thought he was a possessive man, but by the gods, he wanted to have every inch of her and give himself completely over to her. The overwhelming feeling pounded against his temples, and the sharp ache cut through his head as he was brought out of his musing by the harsh whispers behind him.

‘You have never loved him. You just love the idea of someone being there. You treated him more like a lapdog than a lover.’ Triss snapped.

She poked at the fire angrily as glared at the Yennefer, who in her usual fashion wore a plunging neckline that dipped down to her navel, it was tight and revealing and not a travelling dress, but it not sure practicality was what Yen was going for.

‘Don’t you think I deserved someone.’ Yennefer half whispered; half yelled.

‘Of course, I do. But you were horrid to her. You know what she reminded me a lot of you when you first came to Arteuza. Lost and scared searching for a place. She even had her own Tisssisa in Tradi and Cersi, a bully who prodded and poked, filling you head with the position. But you managed you had the power and support to getaway. She did not. Have some sympathy.’ Triss glared into the crackling fire.

‘I sacrificed my motherhood for that. You have no idea what I have surrendered.’ Triss growled.

‘You sacrificed nothing. You gave it away.’ Triss countered, giving her a pointed look. ‘You wanted power and don’t try and kid yourself. I love you like a sister, but sometimes you can be so obtuse.’

Yennefer was becoming increasingly hostile as the days went on, switching from lost little girl to savage man-eating banshee. Every jab and goading comment ground down on the Witcher who pensively look deep into the horizon but Triss knew Geralt; his body was rigid and tense, he didn’t eat or sleep just stare into the fire or huddle up with his back to them for the few brief hours he let the horse rest. And there was only so much more he would be able to stand before he snapped, and she fears that Yennefer would be on the receiving end of that or worse it would get Geralt off in an unbound rage, and he would do something that he would forever regret.

‘You seriously believe Geralt belong to her.’ Yennefer stood and pace in front of the fire, casting a frantic shadow against the trees.

‘That your problem, you think Geralt belong to someone. Adva genuinely cares for him. And she did not cast him out over his doing the right thing. That right he told me…honestly, you have no idea how spoilt and nasty you sounded.’

‘Well, to me, she couldn’t get away from him fast enough.’ Yennefer smirked at her; it was her character smirk, the one she used when she was right.

‘That because she thinks Geralt prefer you over her, and she doesn't want to be blasted through the floor again.’ Triss ranted, in a hoarse tone. ‘You draped your self over him, what was she to think.’

‘If she were truly his mate, don’t you think she couldn’t be apart from him. Even if I were draped all over him, do you think he has really changed? He’d have a different woman in his bed every night; she would be pandering after him. Trust me; I spared her the hurt. I bet she had already moved on to Jaskier…’

‘Enough’ Geralt roared, bolting up in bed. ‘Don’t you two have anything else you can talk about.’ He snapped and stood.

Two of the two women, he loomed menacingly over them, his body stood to his full height as he glared at them with dark eyes. His sword was clutched tightly in his hand, glistening murderously in the moonlight. Trails of sweat mixed with the blue rune and melted down his skin, it was hard to see any of his bronzed skin beneath the mess of sweat and paint. The fever seemed to take hold on his with a vengeance, his breath was coming in heavy pants, as he looked at both the woman.

‘Geralt…we didn’t…’

‘She wouldn’t do that….not with Jaskier, she needs me’ Geralt gritted out. Triss took a step back, the frantic look in his eyes scared her.

‘Please…. she could barely look at you when they left. Could not help but notice she seemed really attached to Jaskier, they have the whole of Kaer Morhen to themselves…lots of room for screaming. I bet she is currently in one of those lush four posters spread open and Jaskier buried deep into her pussy.’

Yennefer laughed. The sound tinkled against the trees and into the night air, it was the only sound that would be heard apart from the occasional crackle of the fire and a distant owl hooting. Triss honestly could not comprehend what was happening in Yennefer head, if she really understood what was happening if she truly believed that Geralt wouldn’t actually hurt her. That he could do serious harm to her with his blade or signs. Part of her wanted that, it ashamed her to say, but Yennefer had been taking every opportunity to push the Witcher to his breaking point, she took great pleasure in it. Yennefer was hurt, and that made her deadly. Still, Geralt wasn’t his normal passive self, who let her push and ordered him about, he wasn’t that lonely puppy craving attention and companion anymore, he had love, or would have true love soon with someone that was wholly different for the mage, someone who was his and his alone.

What happened next surprised Yennefer but not wholly Triss. Aard, the telekinesis push erupted for Geralt’s hands, sending them flying backwards. The purple eyes mage hurtled backwards, through the fire and hit a nearby bolder with a sicken crake. Triss was lucky that the full force of the blast was direct at the other mage, she only caught the edge of the blast sending her stumbling into a pile of leaves and rotting vegetation was cushioned her fall. In horror, she watched as the Geralt leapt over the fire, sword raised, and he swung. She couldn’t bare to watch, screwing her eyes she waited. The sounds a metal hitting stone echoed in the clearing. Then a deadly silence. Peaking out from behind her corkscrew curls, the blade was inches from her face her violet eyes staring wide at the sliver of sharped silver.

The silver-haired Witcher growled and grunted like a rogue animal, terrified and panicked. ‘Never…never would she bed with another…. She is MINE!’ he roared.

‘HOW DARE YOU ATTACK ME! AFTER ALL, I HAVE DONE FOR YOU!’ Yennefer howled sending out a wave of fire out, knocking her attacker off her.

Groaning in pain, he rolled out the way of another blast before twirling to his feet, with all the grace of a dancer. The sword hummed as he twirled the heavy blade, the wind screamed as it cut through it. Yennefer raised her hand before her as Geralt stood, budging muscle strained against his armour, eyes fierce and deadly. Plenty of times Yennefer had seen the fierce warrior beat down floes with nothing but his trusty sword but never had she been on the receiving end. Magic would be useless, and Geralt could inflict significant damage if he didn’t kill her.

‘Geralt…Stop! I am sure Yennefer was just being Yennefer. Adva is just confused right now. Finding out your part mermaid and a soulmate to a Witcher in the same day as behind attacked by a crazy Mage is hard to get your head around. You two are soul mates, meant to be. She just needs time to understand and get her head around it all. I am sure she is holed up in one of the rooms waiting for you, alone.’ Triss cried as she jumped in front of them. ‘You need to calm down…please. For Adva.’ Triss called, softly

The three stood tensely for a moment, both women's eyes on him as he glanced between the two. Panting hard his eyes bleed black, hands tightening on the hilt of his blade.

Snort pushed itself through his nose as a ‘Fuck’ howled passed his lip as he threw down his sword. Spearing one last glance at the mages, he disappeared into the forest.

‘That little bitch has done something to him. Geralt would never…’ Yennefer huffed, brushing the dust of her dress.

‘When are you going to accept you have lost.’ Triss rolled her eyes as she picked up the silver blade, sliding it back into his bindle on Roach, before sitting back down near the fire and waiting for his return. ‘Rest up; we will be riding on as soon as he gets back. We need to get to Kaer Morhen as soon as possible.’

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

This originally wasn't gong to be a chapter but I felt like it needed to. Someone messaged me on tumblr about why Geralt didn't chase after her through a portal, from what I remember from the books and games Geralt hated portals and only uses them when absolutely necessary so I thought it was very Geralty plus those two need a little time apart. And there will be plenty of time for Geralt to chase after her *drools* can you imagine being chased by jealous Geralt. What did you think? I wasn't sure about the fight but Yennefer was being very annoying. Plus things Geralt and Adva life is hotting up and they have a lot to pick through so it gonna be interesting. And Vesemir! The love I have for that man! Please leave a comment!

@fandom-lover-4 @sageandberries-png @wastingmypotential @luxyash @whitespring21 @ayamenimthiriel @crazynocturnalkiki @wonderlandfandomkingdom @shesthelastjedi @broco8 @introvertedmouse @threepupsinapuddle @pastelblogsposts

#geralt imagine #geralt x reader #witcher geralt #geralt smut #geralt of rivia #Geralt #geralt x smut #geralt x oc #netflix the witcher #witcher netflix #witcher 3 #thewitcher

85 notes · View notes

frywen-bumbles · 3 years

Text

The Way to a Man’s Heart Goes Through His... Cat? Ch3

AO3

As much as Jaskier adores the fact Roach seems to warm up to him, there's one thing he can't stand.

<why>

Jaskier snaps a picture where all that's visible are glowing eyes in the dark, staring down at him and sends it.

<yeah, i'm with Essi, you're on your own>

<don't remind me I'm trying to sleep!!!>

<zzz>

The morning routine is something Jaskier has learned to both love and hate. His alarm rings at 8 like every morning and like possessed Roach jumps on top of him and screams.

"Mmmm yeah, I'm awake, Roach..." Jaskier mumbles and tries to sleep just one more minute. Roach is having none of it. She runs over him, to the door and screams bloody murder and jumps on top of him again.

"Please... Roach... just two... minutes..." Jaskier tries to bury his head under the blankets but Roach walks on top of him and screams again.

"Ugh... you're heavy... Okay, okay, I'm getting up. See Roach, I'm getting up..."

He walks downstairs to feed Roach who keeps screaming and thrilling until her bowl is full and walks back up to brush his teeth.

Roach doesn't take long until she demands to be let in the bathroom, scratching and meowing making her demands known.

"One of these mornings I will get to brush my teeth in peace," Jaskier sighs as Roach curls herself into the sink. This is not one of those mornings.

He checks his phone over morning coffee and is surprised to find a message from Fiona so early.

<Sure, swallow. What do you need?>

Fiona sends him a picture of her math assignment.

Jaskier looks at the math over and starts to explain it in detail. It's somehow endearing how much trust Fiona puts in him and he does not want to ruin it for her. Not that third-grade mathematics is hard, he suspects 'uncle L' just isn't that good at explaining things.

He can't help but venture to reread a different conversation entirely while he waits for Fiona to finish.

A picture of Cat Dad and Fiona. And actual texts after it.

<She's very fine! Quite vocal about what she wants but still lovely!>

And on another day:

Then another selfie with Cat Dad and Fiona, this time taken by Cat Dad. He is very bad at taking selfies, but somehow even that is endearing, despite the man looking like he's a member of a biker gang with the beard and all of the black leather. When he got the first picture, he hadn't even noticed. He had been too distracted by... other things. Jaskier really shouldn't feel this giddy just looking at a picture. Just rereading the texts. But he can't help himself.

The man is clearly crazy about his cat. And what's hotter than a person who loves their pets to the moon and back. Nothing, if you ask Jaskier.

<I'm glad you like the pictures! Like I told you, I'll send one or two every day!>

What Jaskier doesn't tell is feeding the cat cheese every single day to get her brushed. Little treats never hurt anyone.

Fiona sends him a picture of finished assignments.

Jaskier thinks he will melt. While being a tutor wasn't in his job description he doesn't really mind. To him, it's evident what Fiona wants most of all is company and support and he's happy to provide. The family she's staying with is trying their best, Jaskier is sure of it. But from what Jaskier gathers through Fiona's texts, they don't seem to have enough time to look through her school work as much as she wishes they would.

How can two people he's never even met manage to occupy most of he's thoughts?

***

Jaskier has barely put the first forkful of instant ramen in his mouth when he hears the door open.

"Geralt, it's me!"

Jaskier scrambles to meet whoever just walked through the locked door using their own key, what the fuck.

"H-hello...?" he manages to greet through a mouth full of food before he even sees who it is.

Jaskier is not one to be intimidated nor is he one to be at loss for words.

Somehow, the woman in front of him manages to do both. She's gorgeous, her raven hair falling in curls over her shoulders, violet eyes staring straight at him like he's a piece of cheap meat and suddenly Jaskier is keenly aware of wearing nothing but pants and an undershirt, his hair a ruffled mess, hands covered in ink, pencil and pen marks.

"You're one of those... trainees. Melitele forbid, what sort of trash does Geralt drag in here, why aren't you with the old wolf?"

Jaskier opens his mouth to answer but is immediately interrupted.

"No, don't answer that. Where is Geralt, I need to talk to him."

"I... um..." Jaskier gets the feeling this is a person who gets what she wants. She quirks an eyebrow at him expecting an answer and when none come she sighs, a dramatic gesture Jaskier is not sure he could perform better even if he tried.

"Where. Is. Geralt?" she asks like he's an idiot and Jaskier things at this moment he really is.

"He, um... is not here?" Jaskier tries his best. He does. But something about the woman, no matter how beautiful she is, radiates power, like she could crush him without even blinking an eye.

The woman eyes him, up and down and glances behind him to the kitchen. And smiles. It's a small amused quirk of her lips, one that makes Jaskier spin around immediately only to spot Roach sitting on top of his papers, meticulously dropping every single pen to the floor.

"Roach, no!"

Roach meows and jumps down from the table with a mrrrp. She trots to the woman and rubs herself against her legs before she jumps up to her scratching post to stare at them.

Jaskier kneels to collect his pens, muttering curses under his breath.

"You know Roach."

"Um, yeah?" Jaskier mutters as he crawls deeper under the table to reach the pens.

"Soooo, witchers, huh? Interesting topic of research."

Jaskier hits his head on the table.

"Yeah... yeah I. I know it's not the most conventional one but I do find it quite fascinating especially when you look at all of the historical songs..." Jaskier crawls from underneath the table and is met with the woman standing next to him and suddenly he's keenly aware of being in his underwear on his knees on the floor in front of one of the most beautiful women he's ever seen.

He blushes.

He's sure he's never blushed as much as he is right at this moment and he honestly wishes the ground would open up and swallow him whole.

"You're not one of the trainees," the woman says eyeing him, amusement still lingering on her lips.

"No, I'm not," Jaskier admits and tries to get to his feet in a somewhat dignified way. He fails and all of his pens scatter to the floor again. "Fuck..."

"And who are you then?"

"I'm the cat-sitter. Julian." Jaskier gives himself a mental slap. He is an adult person why does he introduce himself like a toddler? "Can I please go put my trousers on?" he pleads. Maybe clothed he'll have a chance to be on equal grounds with the woman.

"Sure."

A few minutes later he comes back down, fully clothed this time, to find the woman sitting by the table and reading his scribbles.

"Um, hello?" Jaskier greets the woman again. She looks up but does nothing to stand up to greet him in return. "Julian Pancratz, the cat-sitter." Jaskier extends his hand to her and she takes it.

"I'm Yen. Geralt is my-... we're... friends. Now, where has that grumpy bastard gone?" The woman - Yen answers and looks at him expecting an answer immediately.

"I honestly don't know, he only told me it's work-related. I've never even met him. I was recommended by a friend of his who is also a client of mine. He occasionally answers the texts I send him, maybe you could try to reach him by phone?"

"He answers your texts? What did you do, enchant him?" Yen sounds honestly baffled and it makes Jaskier feel bad. She obviously has some sort of history with the Cat Dad so the least he could do is answer her.

"He only answers every now and then. I don't think it was even his idea to reply."

Yen smiles, a true smile this time, not just an amused quirk of lips, "You're probably right." She picks up one of the papers again and taps it, "Ever met a real witcher?"

"No, I haven't. I've just always found the stories interesting... I have plans for real research for my doctoral thesis as soon as I manage to finish my master's degree, I just need to get around to figuring out... well pretty much everything outside of the basic structure. I already know all of the material by heart, it's just... just look at this, how can someone write something so vile about people who work to keep us safe from monsters? And this here..." Jaskier rummages through the piles of papers and pushes the ones he meant on Yen's hands, not waiting for her to answer. "And look, I even came up with this account of someone killing a witcher after he had finished a job for them, just the audacity of it all!" He glances up at Yen, suddenly keenly aware he is probably either boring her or making her uncomfortable with all of this talk about monsters and monster hunters. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't bore you with this..." He reaches to take the papers from Yen's hands but she holds them out of his reach.

"No, you're not boring me at all. Please, tell me more about your current paper?"

Yen proves to be a far better company than Jaskier first thought. At the end of their discussion and a few cups of tea later, Yen turns the conversation back to him.

"Why do you live here? Wouldn't it be easier to write in your own place?"

"Oh, you know, roommates..." Jaskier mumbles, avoiding Yen's eyes. No way in hell is he going to tell a complete stranger he sleeps in his friends' sofas and in the musicology society's guild room at the uni when he can't find anyone to room him between jobs. His parents already think him a failure, no need to add a complete stranger to the mix.

"Hmm," Yen agrees and stands up. "I feel I have held you long enough. Good luck with your thesis. Here is my number, call me if you get into any trouble while you're staying here." Yen scribbles a phone number on the edge of one paper with a bright red pen she picks up from the floor.

"Um... what trouble?" Jaskier asks, suddenly wary. "I have only told one person the address like was the deal? I haven't told them anything else, I'm not in danger, right? This isn't some mob bosses hideout or something? I'm in trouble, aren't I? Melitele's tits, Essi will kill me..."

"Calm down, no trouble. Just... if anything comes up, like bills or something and you can't reach Geralt. He can be unreachable for days." Yen smiles at him, an uneasy smile, not quite reaching her eyes.

"Oh, okay, yeah, that's. That's good..." Jaskier feels so stupid. Not only has he managed to be half-naked while Yen walked in, but now he has also made a complete ass out of himself.

"Take care of Roach," Yen says as a goodbye and walks out of the door. Jaskier rushes to say goodbye but when he reaches the door, she's already gone.

Come night Jaskier is surprised how much he has managed to work on his thesis. Talking about it with someone made writing so much easier, even when most of the talk was him ranting about the unfair treatment of witchers which will never end up in the final paper.

He grabs something to eat before bed and spots Roach. She sits facing the front door, waiting for someone to walk through it.

It breaks Jaskier's heart.

Roach has done it every night, giving up only after Jaskier has gone to bed to crawl on the other side of the bed to stare at him.

Jaskier snaps a picture of Roach and sends it despite the late hour.

Jaskier doesn't expect an answer.

That. That is too cute. Jaskier can't handle it, he just can't.

"Roach, your owner is a big old sap and he wanted me to tell you he's sorry and he loves you, okay?" Jaskier tells her from a respectable distance away. Roach looks at him and meows pitifully.

"I know, girl. I'm sure he misses you as much as you miss him. Come on now, I'm going to bed, you can come and stare at me until I fall asleep."

#the witcher #the witcher fanfic #geralt of rivia #Jaskier #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #cirilla fiona elen riannon #Yennefer of Vengerberg #frywen writes

6 notes · View notes

likecastle · 4 years

Text

Witcher Noir AU, part 10

More Witcher noir AU! All previous parts can be found here.

If you have prompts or suggestions for scenes you’d like to see, please send them my way!

Geralt delays their conversation until he’s finished clearing up the mess he made of the kitchen and has had a chance to get cleaned up, himself. Once his injuries are redressed and he’s wearing a fresh set of clothes, he feels at least marginally more like a person, though he can’t say he’s entirely ready to have this talk with Jaskier. When he steps out of the bedroom, he half expects—maybe half hopes—that Jaskier will have bolted while he was in the shower, but Jaskier is sitting at the kitchen table waiting for him, a freshly brewed pot of coffee on the stove.

“There weren’t any more eggs,” Jaskier says.

Geralt takes a sip of the coffee, which somehow tastes infinitely better than what he usually makes, and promises to take the edge off his headache. “You didn’t have to . . .”

“No, I didn’t,” Jaskier agrees matter-of-factly. “But I wanted to. So here we are.”

Geralt sits down at the table opposite Jaskier, and for a long moment, all he can manage to do is turn his cup in his hands. At last, he looks up to find Jaskier watching him expectantly. “Where do you want me to start?”

“How about by telling me what the city’s foremost fence and all-around black market bombshell was doing breaking into your apartment this morning.”

Geralt can’t help frowning. “So you two do know each other.”

“Only by reputation,” Jaskier says, a note of frustration in his voice. “I may not be as well connected to the criminal underworld as you seem to be, Geralt, but I wasn’t born yesterday. When you work for Calanthe, you notice certain things—or you do if you’re paying attention, and I think we can both agree that you’d have to be a fool not to pay attention to someone like Yennefer.”

“Hm.” Geralt can’t dispute that.

“Anyway,” Jaskier continues, “I wish you’d stop second-guessing me and trying to catch me out. We’re never going to get anywhere if you keep treating me like a liar.”

“It would help if you’d tell me the truth.”

Jaskier rolls his eyes elaborately. “Well, I was going to tell you last night, but then you decided you were more interested in taking me to bed than interrogating me.”

Geralt fights against the blush that rises to his face, with little success.

“Not that I regret it,” Jaskier adds, his voice softening slightly. “But you don’t get to pretend you have the high ground here. I won’t deny I held something back when we talked at the Last Rose, but that was because I was afraid you were going to murder me. There’s a lot more you haven’t told me, but I still trusted you enough to follow you here, and I didn’t even know your name until Yennefer said it to me this morning.”

Geralt stares down at the tabletop, unable to look Jaskier in the eye. Jaskier’s right, of course. He can’t expect Jaskier to be open with him when he hasn’t exactly been forthcoming, himself. He’s no good at trusting people with the whole truth, but he’s been doing a lot of it recently—with Renfri, now with Jaskier—and somehow that feels more dangerous than any of the situations he’s found himself in over the past few days.

It takes him by surprise when he feels Jaskier’s hand on his. He glances up to find Jaskier looking at him expectantly again, but this time the corner of his mouth is quirked into a smile. “Why don’t we start again?”

Geralt takes a deep breath and lets it out. “Right.” How long has it been since he’s had to explain himself to anyone, let alone someone whose good opinion he wanted to keep? He knows there’s a good chance that Jaskier won’t want anything to do with him, once he learns how Geralt got mixed up in this business, and, frankly, Geralt wouldn’t blame him.

“I started working for Calanthe back when her business was still just smuggling liquor,” he says. “If there’d been any other work, I would have taken it, but that was ’29, so you can imagine . . .” He shrugs. “Didn’t take me long to realize I was good at it. I knew how to take orders, and beatings, and how to give them, too. Calanthe took notice, started giving me more responsibility, moving me up the ranks. After a while, I figured that was all I was good for.”

Jaskier’s hand curls around his, squeezing in what is surely meant to be a reassuring gesture, and Geralt has to resist the urge to pull away.

“That’s how I met Yen. She helped Calanthe sell some paintings—part of some money laundering scheme. I fell for her hard, but . . . I fucked it up, in the end.” He gives Jaskier an unpleasant little smile. No need to go into the details of all the ways he failed Yennefer. Jaskier will probably get a taste of it himself, if he sticks around long enough.

“I’d been working for Calanthe a few years when I saved her daughter and son-in-law from an assassination attempt. After that, I was practically part of the family. They even named me godfather to their daughter, when she was born.” He lets himself remember—just for a moment—what it was like to hold Cirilla for the first time, how he’d allowed himself to hope that one good thing might come out of all of Calanthe’s bloodshed.

“After Prohibition was repealed, things . . . changed. Calanthe had to diversify, and all of a sudden it wasn’t just guarding shipments of moonshine anymore. The choices she made to keep hold of her power—the things I did to help her do it—” Geralt shakes his head. “I cut ties with Calanthe—which she didn’t thank me for—and went to work for Yen for a while, then managed to fuck that up again.” He rolls his eyes. “She’d tell you I have a talent. After that, I decided to try and make an honest living for once. When I got my PI license, I swore to myself I wouldn’t ever get involved in that world again.” He huffs out something like a laugh, amazed by how naïve it sounds when he says it out loud.

“Only you are involved again,” Jaskier says.

“Yeah.” The word weighs heavy, a condemnation.

“So Yennefer hired you to look into Calanthe’s death?” Jaskier hazards.

Geralt nods. “She came to me with a theory that Emhyr was behind Calanthe’s death, how all the small-time crooks are going to be caught up in his grab for power now that she’s dead. She was right about Emhyr, but as for the rest of it . . . I still can’t figure what Yen gains from this, or why she came to me.”

“But she’s not really what’s driving you, is she?” Jaskier is looking at him carefully, curiosity plain in his expression. “I can tell there’s a lot between the two of you, but you could still drop the case if you really wanted to wash your hands of it. But you haven’t. So what is it?”

“Cirilla.” Geralt stares down at their joined hands. “Calanthe’s granddaughter—my goddaughter. The girl’s parents died a few years back, and at the time I figured Calanthe would look after her better than I ever could. But now Calanthe is dead, and Cirilla is missing. I swore to protect her, and then I turned my back on that responsibility. She might be dead now, because of me.”

Jaskier tisks his tongue dismissively. “I hardly think you can take all the blame for what was, from the sound of it, a highly coordinated gangland murder.” He smiles up at Geralt, an unfathomable ray of light in Geralt’s dim little world. “And in any case,” he adds, light as can be, “Calanthe’s granddaughter was very much alive the last time I saw her.”

Part eleven

#the witcher #geralt of rivia #geralt #jaskier #geraskier #geralion #gerlion #geralt x jaskier #some background yennalt here #yennalt #witcher au #noir au #witcher noir au #i've got 99 problems and aus are all of them

9 notes · View notes

soymimikyu · 4 years

Text

Witcher Episode 6 Notes

Continuing to take notes for a “reason”...but these are my top thoughts, comments, and ramblings on this episode.

* Dragons! In my opinion, this episode was the height of story telling for the season.

* I want to know where Jaskier met a sexy goose for the comparison and why he didn’t say swan? Maybe he is unfamiliar with swans? I mean, as demonstrated in the previous episode, he is more of an ichthyologist than an ornithologist. (Unrelated -- why is Adamantine Dreams such an excellent piece of music...go listen to it and try to disagree).

* How does Jaskier come up with names...Julian Alfred Pankratz is great!

* What exactly is Jaskier describing when he is talking about twigs, flowers, flora, fauna, and cacti? It seems sexual and my initial guesses are bedding -- but fauna? I suppose if you skin an animal...but you have to treat hides before you “should” use them....one can I suppose use them “fresh” for this purpose.

* How will Jaskier immortalize the Doof Knight (Not to be confused with the most excellent Doof Warrior)? The ship comment was glorious, but he seemed legitimately sad about Eyck’s death...

* Borch knows about Yennefer’s meddling in her courtly assignment! How?!? Does Aretuza interact with dragons? Or is he just magically knowing?

* AHHH Geralt call’s her Yen! It was adorable to see him show so much emotion -- in a gruff way

* The Doppler looks like the most irritated parent during a long car ride with children in the back seat constantly asking questions. I wonder why Dara did hesitated to kill him and Ceri was so murderous. Maybe she got it from her Grand Mother :)

* Where does Jaskier keep his clothes? All I seem to recall him carrying is his instrument. Does Roach also carry Jaskier’s stuff? I wonder how the two of them get along...maybe Roach really like’s Jaskier’s singing. I absolutely can see Jaskier complaining about Geralt to Roach.

* The “only my nonsense” line made me groan.......

* Seriously Yen and Geralt have the best boinking music. This time it was not as Jaunty, but really good still! (Ahhh Torment is also a really good piece -- unrelated again! Yes I am commenting on what I am listening to while I make these comments).

* Farmer Geralt! He would grow winter wheat and make bread to sell at the farmers market. Roach would pull the buggy! (Idea: Geralt, Yen, Jaskier, Ceri all run a farm. Think little house on the prairie, but more interesting).

* More fighting scenes should have bread in the background. Those were beautiful loaves of bread.

* In the 30 years Yennefer served on a court, she became damn competent with a dagger. Clearly that was her hobby while mopping up political messes.

* Do we ever learn who is the god head of the white flame religion? I can’t remember.

* CREDITS SONG! AHHH IT IS JUST AS GOOD AS THE WITCHER SONG.

There are other notes and comparisons scribbled down, but these were the important ones.

#the witcher #jaskier #jaskier and roach #geralt and jaskier #geralt and yennefer #jaskier does not know birds #farmer geralt #bread #bread fight #jaunty boinking music

21 notes · View notes