#Jaskier is also her father of course

[ladyannemarie5]

Funny how Geralt always stayed on the sidelines with Jaskier's conquests for fear of a broken heart and yet he got a front row seat to watch the bard fall in love with the prince.

Geralt would cut the bard off when he started talking about the virtues of whatever man or woman he spent the night with, but he had no choice but to listen to Jaskier when he told him how the prince learned his song, because the poet appealed to their "best friends" bond.

Geralt smiled inwardly when the bard left his conquest for the night alone to go order him a bath and wash his hair with special soaps and oils after the hunts. And then the witcher had to witness Jaskier leaving him to go order Radovid a bath because "his long blond hair has never been anything less than perfect and cannot be left uncared for, Geralt." 

Geralt always distracted the bard with a story of past hauntings with terrifying creatures every time Jaskier began to compose a love song for his conquest, but nothing could distract the poet when he began to talk about how beautiful and bright Radovid's eyes were and how he wanted to find the perfect words to describe them. 

Geralt faked annoyance every time Jaskier asked to sleep next to him at night insinuating that he was too cold for a little bard. Geralt feigned relief when Jaskier told him that he would no longer bother him with that because he now slept with Radovid and his arms and fur blanket were more than warm. 

Geralt kept as much emotional distance as possible from the bard who approached him in a tavern in Posada so he wouldn't have to deal with a broken heart from falling in love with a human. 

But absolutely no distance in the world prepares him when that night while they were camping alone, Jaskier lying next to him and looking up at the stars, turns to him and says softly "I'm not in love with you anymore, Geralt. You don't have to act cautious around me anymore."

And Geralt can't say anything. Because he simply can't. He must have misheard, maybe the kikimore from earlier hit him too hard or something because there's no way, no world where Jaskier was in love with him. There's no way he would have wasted his chance. 

Jaskier, oblivious to the witcher's stupor, continues "I know I made you uncomfortable with my affections for you, I tried hard not to throw myself at you if I'm honest, but Radovid... I've fallen so much in love with Radovid that I'm ready to let you go. I'm sorry it took me so long to give you and Yenna peace."

Geralt looks up at the stars in silence, not believing what he just heard. Jaskier is about to turn away when Geralt takes his hand. He says nothing, just a simple squeeze. Jaskier breathes a sigh of relief, the witcher doesn't hate him for that, he doesn't ask him to leave as he had feared. Geralt is also relieved that he is no longer burdened with the bard's feelings. 

Geralt allows himself to hold his hand one last time. He allows himself a small luxury, so that he can silently mourn the loss of his bard and curse his own stupidity. Tomorrow he will watch as the bard is reunited with the prince, tomorrow he will watch with a broken heart as they embrace and the prince spins Jaskier in his arms, before kissing him and swearing eternal love. Tomorrow Geralt's heart breaks completely. 

But just for today, just for that night, he allows himself to take Jaskier's hand, draw him into his arms and breathe freely the scent of the man he has been in love with for over two decades. Just for that one night, Geralt allows himself to be happy.

----

I really love to make me cry ^^

#Jaskier is confused for a while #But before they meet Radovid they meet Yennefer. #Yenn and Geralt kiss and Jaskier knows he made the right decision #Radovid and Jaskier decide to go away alone for a while #Yenn and Geralt try it for real this time #But Yenn finds out everything as usual #And when she motivates Geralt to fight for the bard #Jaskier announces that he has secretly married the prince #Ciri is done with her parents' drama #Jaskier is also her father of course #geraskier #radskier #jaskier #geralt of rivia #the witcher #the witcher netflix #ao3 fanfic #fanfiction #geralt x jaskier

[bambirex]

It's A Game We Play

Pairings: Geraskier, Yennskier, Radskier

Characters: Jaskier, Geralt of Rivia, Yennefer of Vengerberg, Radovid, original female characters, Essi Daven, Priscilla, Ciri of Cintra, Valdo Marx

Additional tags: inspired by Mamma Mia! (movies), crack, alpha/beta/omega dynamics, omega jaskier, alpha geralt, alpha yennefer, beta radovid, awkwardness, jaskier is a good parent, protective jaskier, weddings, found family, post mpreg, fluff and humor, alternate universe-modern setting

Rating: teen and up audiences

Word count: 2,390 words

Chapters: 1/?

Summary: Jaskier's daughter is about to marry the love of her life, and she decides she wants both her parents at her wedding. Only problem is that Jaskier has slept with a little too many people in his youth, so the identity of the other parent is a mystery. That does not stop the bride-to-be from inviting three potential daddy candidates and unleashing absolute chaos in the process.

*

Otherwise known as Jaskier's terrible horrible no good past decisions leading to terrible horrible no good outcomes. Also known as the Mamma Mia! AU nobody asked for, but I wrote it anyway.

Author's notes: It's time for some crack!!!!! What do you get when you have canonically slutty Jaskier, and add Bambi being a multishipper who loves chaos? That's right, you get a Mamma Mia!AU !! I'm planning on using the plot of the first movie pretty loosely. As in, I will probably not do scene-to -scene recreations, but take advantage of the general idea and the setting!

Feedback is super appreciated!!! Let's get the party started!

Read on Ao3

*

“I can’t believe this day has come.”

“Papa, it’s not my wedding yet. I’m just trying on dresses, remember?”

“Still,” Jaskier smiled, blinking against the sentimental tears in his eyes, “my child is getting married. She’s picking out her wedding dress, how am I supposed to cope with this?”

Amaryllis cooed and leaned up to kiss her father on the cheek. Jaskier immediately wound his arms around her, enveloping her in a crushing hug.

“You promised no crying until the ceremony,” Amaryllis reminded him. Jaskier chuckled against her hair.

“I’m failing, obviously.”

But who could blame him, Jaskier mused as Amaryllis finally managed to pull away. He let his daughter take his hand and lead him inside the saloon, her steps happy and prancing, so adorably enthusiastic. Amaryllis was his only child, his baby, his light in this world. Of course, he would become emotional (over and over again) over the fact she was soon to be a married woman. Amaryllis’s fiancée, well, soon-to-be-wife, Sara, was the sweetest thing. Jaskier loved and trusted her, but that didn’t mean he didn’t worry. He always did: he was a parent, that was what he was supposed to do. His child was facing a huge milestone in her life. Jaskier was filled with fear, hope, and a tremendous amount of pride at the same time. He was just overflowing with emotions, and they manifested in constant weeping, apparently.

He decided to try and shut off the waterworks at least while they introduced themselves to the seller. She was a cheerful middle-aged lady named Kate, who heartily congratulated Amaryllis on her upcoming marriage, then she gave a sympathetic hug to Jaskier as well.

“It’s a huge thing, one of the biggest days in our lives,” Kate chirped as she led them further inside the saloon. “Therefore, it has to be perfect. Any ideas on your dream dress, dear?”

“Not sure,” Amaryllis admitted. She still held onto Jaskier’s hand as she looked over the numerous racks and shelves. “My fiancée will have a strapless dress, and it would be nice to match with her, but I think sleeves are more my style?”

“You should pick whatever you’d feel comfortable in,” Jaskier reminded her softly. “You will look beautiful in everything, anyway.”

Amaryllis gave him a bright smile and a squeeze to his hand before she followed Kate into the jungle of dresses. Jaskier raked his eyes around with a sigh. Fluffy dresses and sleek suits hanged everywhere from floor to ceiling, in every shape and every size. They all looked so pretty. Jaskier’s chest tightened for a second before he decided to look away and check on his daughter instead.

Amaryllis was an absolute dream to shop with. Instead of turning into the stereotypical “bridezilla”, she was calm and collected, listening intently to everything Kate told her. Jaskier was immensely proud of her. He also knew that if he were in this situation, he would probably break down five minutes in.

While Amaryllis disappeared inside the fitting room to try on a couple dresses, Kate approached Jaskier with a smile.

“Beautiful girl,” she told him earnestly. Jaskier grinned, proudly puffing his chest out.

“Thank you.”

“Yours, right? I can tell by the eyes. Same set of beautiful baby blues.”

“Ah, you’re so kind. Yes, she’s my daughter.”

“Are you planning a big wedding?”

“Not that big. More people on her fiancée’s side.”

Saying that out loud tasted bitter on Jaskier’s tongue. He wished he could give his daughter an epic ceremony, but unfortunately, he wasn’t on good terms with his family. His parents divorced while he was still a child, and he has only rarely seen his father after that. He’s always had a stormy relationship with his mother as well. She was a very strict, traditional woman, whose pride was greatly hurt when her husband left her. That was probably why she got so angry when Jaskier told her at the ripe age of twenty-one that he has gotten pregnant and had no clue from who. She wanted Jaskier to fulfill that idyllic family picture that she did not manage, and seeing her own child fail at it, too, caused her to cut ties with him. The only relative that Jaskier could count on was his aunt, the only person who has supported him after he ended up alone, pregnant, and scared out of his mind. Her death devastated Jaskier, especially because she didn’t get to see Amaryllis’s birth. She has left his beloved nephew a lovely gift, though, the Dandelion Inn. Jaskier has spent most of his childhood on the small island his aunt lived at, and he really enjoyed staying over at the Inn, even when he was an adult. It was a friendly, warm little motel that felt more like his home than his actual house. He has also met his two best friends there, who have helped him through many hardships.

Jaskier now lived on the island with his daughter and managed the Dandelion Inn. It was idyllic in many ways, and not very idyllic in other ways. Jaskier knew that an unbonded, mate-less Omega would always be the hot topic of every gossip, especially one that got pregnant so young. He has gotten better at handling the acidic insults, but he wished he could have protected his daughter against them, and he wished he could have provided her with the big, happy family that she deserved.

He quickly waved away the sad memories as Amaryllis exited the fitting room. Jaskier gasped and clutched a hand over his heart, willing himself not to tear up again. As expected, Amaryllis looked beautiful in her mermaid- style dress. Her smile shone brighter than the gemstones on the hem when she twirled around.

“My God, you look beautiful,” Jaskier whispered in awe. Amaryllis ducked her head with a shy grin.

“I like it. I think I’m gonna try the high-low dress, too.”

She tried on four more dresses, and Jaskier told her she looked gorgeous in every single one of them. Amaryllis groaned as she plopped down next to him on a pouf.

“You always say I look beautiful in everything, Papa.”

“But that’s the truth! No matter what you’ll pick, you’ll be the most beautiful bride.”

Kate disappeared to find some accessories to go with the dresses. Amaryllis waited until she was out of sight, then she turned to Jaskier with a look that indicated she was about to say or ask something potentially uncomfortable. Jaskier knew that look too well. It was the same, head ducked down, nose twitching, jaw slightly wobbling face she gave him when she told him she accidentally broke his acoustic guitar, and when she presented as an Omega and had to ask her father about the birds and the bees. Jaskier braced himself with a sigh, and a free cupcake that he retrieved from the tray next to him.

“I was thinking about checking out the suits, too,” Amaryllis started, choosing her words obviously carefully. “But then I was like, I’d rather have a dress. It’s traditional, and I know we’re both free spirits, but I think I’d like a really traditional wedding, you know? An Omega girl in a big fluffy dress, her Omega father weeping into his tissue in the front row…”

“Hey, I won’t cry in the front row,” Jaskier objected with a huff, “I’ll cry while walking you down the aisle.”

Amaryllis cleared her throat. She fiddled with the tulle on her dress. The clock on the wall ticked loudly in the silence. Jaskier didn’t even dare to breathe.

“What’s wrong, honey?” He asked, scooting closer to her on the pouf. “I feel like you’re trying to tell me something.”

“Well,” Amaryllis squeaked, avoiding Jaskier’s eyes, “iwantmyotherparenttowalkmedowntheaisle.”

Jaskier blinked in utter confusion. Amaryllis turned an alarmingly bright red, which was only accentuated by her snow-white dress.

“What… what was that?”

“Papa.”

“You said it so fast I couldn’t make out a single word!”

“God,” Amaryllis sighed, grinding her teeth in embarrassment, “don’t be angry! Just… I… I said that I want my other father, or mother, I don’t know? To… to walk me down the aisle… you know, all traditional…”

Jaskier was very glad he was already sitting, otherwise he would have probably collapsed on the floor. He waited for Amaryllis to reveal it was just a joke. For several, uncomfortable moments, Amaryllis stared at Jaskier, chewing on her lip. Jaskier stared right back, his brain drawing a complete blank page.

“Honey…” Jaskier squeaked out, “you know exactly I don’t know who that is.”

“But, maybe there’s a chance we could find them?” Amaryllis asked hopefully. “I was thinking a lot about this, lately. I would be really happy if we managed to find out who it is, so they could be there, too. I don’t know… maybe you still have some phone numbers? A hunch? Anything? It’s just… it would be nice.”

Jaskier let out a deep sigh. It’s been literal years since Amaryllis has brought up this subject. With each passing year, as she has gotten older, it has gotten easier to explain: it was the worst when she was still a little child, not understanding why everyone had two parents while she only had her Papa. It was even worse with her overhearing all those nasty gossips about how Jaskier was such a lowlife Omega, sleeping with everyone and having bastard children. When she was a little older, Jaskier could give her a vague explanation on how her other parent left, and how they were unfortunately not coming back. Amaryllis was already a teenager when Jaskier eventually revealed the truth that he had absolutely no idea who the other parent was. He didn’t give her all the details about how he was definitely enjoying his youth. He was a pretty hedonistic young Omega who gladly shared his heats and non-heats with many, many… many people. He didn’t tell her about his short-lived, heartbreaking romances and everlasting loves that only lasted for about a week. She was a smart child, she managed to put the pieces together anyway.

So, Amaryllis stopped pushing for an answer a long time ago, accepting the explanation that Jaskier didn’t know. It felt like a bucket of icy water was poured straight over his head when she, twenty years old and ready to get married, brought this up again.

“Look,” Jaskier told her softly, reaching for her hand, “I know this is going to be your big day, and trust me, I would give my left arm to make sure everything could go exactly as you wanted, including a full set of parents if that’s what would make you happy, but unfortunately… I can’t give you that. I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” Amaryllis squeezed his hand gently, “I didn’t say that to make you feel guilty. This isn’t your fault. I just… I guess I reminisced a little, and I daydreamed a little, and… when I imagine my big day… I see someone else there. With you.”

“Well,” Jaskier forced a grin onto his face, deciding to hide the sudden pain that flared up inside him with humor, like so many times before- the only way he managed to survive the heartbreak, the loneliness and the hopelessness he has felt through his life. That was the only way he could get through the pregnancy alone, that he could get through raising a child alone. The only way he could protect Amaryllis from feeling that pain.

“It seems like you’ll have to make do with your old, single father.”

“You’re not old,” Amaryllis reminded him with a laugh. “You had me when you were about my age. You’re still rockin’ and you’re still smokin’.”

“Such flattery. I assume the dress you want is really expensive, then?”

Amaryllis laughed and gave him a tight hug. Jaskier hid his face in her neck so she couldn’t see the way his smile faded.

Kate returned with the accessories amidst many apologies for going away for so long. She took Amaryllis with her again to try the jewelry with the dress so they could settle for the best option. There was an uncomfortable, churning sensation inside Jaskier’s stomach when he was left alone.

The last thing he expected was this. The idea that Amaryllis has been thinking about this again, that she might have felt sad over not having her other parent there shattered Jaskier. He never wanted to see his daughter sad, especially because of him. And sure, Amaryllis assured him it wasn’t his fault, but it kinda was, wasn’t it? If he wasn’t such a slut, sleeping with everyone who caught his fancy, this wouldn’t have happened. He could have committed to an actual relationship, bonded with a nice Alpha or Beta or maybe even another Omega, could have gotten married, and now Amaryllis would have a beautiful wedding with all her family there, because if Jaskier did that, his mother wouldn’t have disowned him, either. All he had to offer his daughter was his stupid self, a tiny inn, and a herd of goats that he also inherited from his aunt.

He looked into the golden-framed mirror on the wall and sighed at his reflection. He looked younger than his age, something he was very proud of, but when he looked closer, into his own eyes, he’s seen the burden of leaving his careless youth behind.

He spotted a veil on the hanger by the mirror. The ache in his chest amplified. He turned around, quickly checking that no one saw him, then he took the veil off the hanger. He turned it around in his hand, running his fingers over the thin lace. It felt heavy like lead as he put it on his head and checked his reflection again.

You could have had this, a voice inside his head that sounded suspiciously like his mother reminded him, if you weren’t such a loose, immoral Omega.

Jaskier cursed and took the veil off, putting it back on the hanger as quickly as he managed. No, he would not let his guilt consume him. He needed to be strong for his daughter. This was about Amaryllis and her beautiful future, not about him and his tragic past.

Jaskier could only hope Amaryllis would forget about her mysterious other parent.

#geraskier #yennskier #radskier #a/b/o #jaskier #geralt of rivia #yennefer of vengerberg #radovid #omega jaskier #alpha geralt #alpha yennefer #beta radovid #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher fic #my fic #mamma mia au

[glwstic]

Rec List 4: The Witcher

-  Worth More Than Your Songs by Chaos_Breeds

“Jask, you’re bleeding,” Geralt growled, his free hand starting to pat for injuries, and-

Jaskier relaxed a bit, slumping in relief. “Good morning to you too,” he greeted brightly, ignoring how raspy his voice was. “Damn witchers and their sense of smell. I’m fine, don’t worry, just my hands.”

The room froze.

———

In which Jaskier runs himself ragged, convinced he must prove his value.

Geralt and Yennefer will not stand for it.

Oneshot,  1,676 words

-  Defying the Odds by Chaos_Breeds

Geralt didn’t care to eavesdrop, really, even less than he wanted to hear another bawdy ballad. It was better to keep his eyes on his ale, stay out of trouble, and wait for Jaskier to be finished. “So how much longer do you think he’ll live?” asked the baron, drumming his fingers on the table. “Such clever songs. I hope we’ll hear another few years’ worth before he goes.”

Geralt immediately stilled, the performance fading into the background.

———

In which Geralt learns that traveling bards are one of the most dangerous professions for very good reason. He overhears some nobles betting on how long his bard would survive on the path, and Jaskier’s odds apparently aren’t good.

Geralt will be damned before that happens.

Oneshot,  1,705 words

-  Bard Assassin by Hyrulehearts1123, sageclover61

Collection, 8 works, 88,968 words

>>>  Edge of Nowhere by sageclover61

Jaskier needed no introduction to Geralt of Rivia, not when he knows who this Witcher is on sight. On the other hand, this is his opportunity to make a new and different name for himself, a guise within a disguise, and perhaps fame that'll hide the secrets that he keeps.

Oneshot, 1,361 words

-  why were you digging, what did you bury by ruffboi

"You'll be coming with me," his father said, rather abruptly and with no room for argument.

"I thought no one but the elders and the witch could know where the clearing is," Julian said slowly.

"This is your duty as my son and heir," his father snapped.

"Of course, father," Julian replied. "I'll be ready after supper." He wondered, a chill running down his spine, what this duty actually was.

Oneshot,  1,776 words

-  I Have Heart-Fire and Singing to Give by inexplicifics

Jaskier is invited to come and sing at Oxenfurt - an honor he has never dreamed he would be granted so young. But leaving Kaer Morhen has its perils...and there are those who would very much like to get their hands on the Consort of the Warlord of the North.

5/5 Completed, 23,311 words

-  And I'll go up, up to find us by thequeenofsong

Geralt's thoughts when he goes up the mountain after finding out about the husband hunters coming to Kaer Morhen. Also includes a flashback to the night in Redania after Geralt finds out Jaskier was sent as a sacrifice and Jaskier's confession of love. Inspired by Inexplicfic's Accidental Warlord AU.

Oneshot,  2,909 words

-  No More Monsters by ruffboi

When Geralt leads his army into Tretogor, they expect most of what they find.

What they don't expect is the near-silent, trembling figure they find tucked against the wall in Radovid's rooms after Eskel runs a sword through the bastard's throat.

Oneshot,  1,219 words

-  Dandelion Wedding Crowns by sageclover61

Twenty years after conquering Kaedwen, Redania sought a treaty with the Warlord of the North, and offered with it an arranged marriage.

Geralt, the accidental warlord of the north, would very like human nobles to stop doing monstrous things, like marrying off their children. Needless to say, the marriage won’t last. Now if only he could figure out how to help Jaskier and his sisters, too.

Inspired by Inex's AW AU and Pallidus' As long as the sun and moon are above.

Oneshot, 16,303 words

-  dead man running by peaktotheocean

Jaskier handed her the spare dagger and breathed easy when she took it without question. "Ciri, darling. We're going to get out of this dungeon together. You know how sometimes, humans call things monsters that aren't monsters at all? Rather just, things they don't understand?"

She looked at him with fierce determination in her eyes. "Yes, I do."

Oneshot,  7,512 words

-  Little Lark in Our Hearts by Chaos_Breeds

Based on inexplicifics Warlord!Geralt AU. Jaskier thought he was over what his father had done, when he was sent away as tribute to the White Wolf. During a conversation about sending tribute to another king, Jaskier realizes he very, very much is not okay.

Good thing he’s got a whole pack to help him through it.

———

(In which they get a stark reminder of Jaskier’s circumstances before becoming part of the Witcher’s keep.)

Oneshot, 1,604 words

#the witcher #fanfic rec #the witcher rec #the witcher fanfic #the witcher fanfic rec #jaskier #geralt of rivera #witcher geralt #jaskier witcher #yennefer #witcher yennefer #eskel #eskel witcher #jaskier x geralt #yennefer x jaskier #geralt x jaskier x yennefer #jaskier x eskel #geralt x jaskier x eskel #angst #smut #fluff

[ab0rtsh]

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

[skaldingrayne]

Titles! How about: When the Sun Rises

Title: When the Sun Rises

Pairing: Jaskier/Geralt/Eskel/Lambert

In the garden of the king, it was said there were wonders the like of which most men could only dream of. Massive fountains that sounded like music, flowers as large as a man's head and smelling of the sweetest perfumes, fruits so sweet and delicious it was as if heaven itself was on your tongue.

But in the very center of all these delights, was also the source of the king's greatest pain. Three statues stood, in the heart of the garden; said to be the cursed stone forms of his three wards, whom the king held dearer than if they were the very sons he could never have.

Every child had heard the story, of course. The powerful sorcerous he'd crossed, the spell cast, the curse -

Stone hearted you are

So stone they shall be

Caught in marble guises

But change your tune

By love transformed be

Freed when the sun rises

The part about the great riches - a prince's ransom, in fact - that should be the reward of any to break said curse tended to particularly stick in the memory.

Money like that could open doors; could buy a whole new life. It could certainly cover the tuition at Oxenfurt Academy for one aspiring, but penniless, bard-to-be.

Which is how Julian Pancratz - known to his fans as Jaskier the Singer, the local constabulary as "that damn troublemaking popinjay", and to the local shrubbery as "Ow!" - found himself covered in leaves and scratches while standing in the middle of the royal gardens at a terribly ungodly hour before dawn.

He was growing frustrated.

He'd already tried the classic kiss, of course - giving each of the three statues a peck on the lips in turn. He'd even - feeling very much the fool, thank you - tried a few so called "magic words" he'd once heard from some of the story tellers that would come sit with their begging cup in the market square.

Wait...

"Please?"

The statues remained extremely stone-like.

Damn.

If one didn't know about the curse, you could almost believe them the work of a master carver. Each of the three figures was incredibly handsome, though in a way entirely unlike the other two.

Based on the stories he'd heard, Jaskier could only guess this tall man with deliciously broad shoulders and an intriguing scar across one side of his face could only be Eskel; the son of some border lord hailing from hill tribes of the north.

To his left stood a shorter, slighter man with a piercing stare and an impressionably aquiline nose. Lambert, probably - son of a western Duke that had tried to rebel some years ago, before the King had had him put to the sword for treason. He had named the Duchess as her son's regent, and brought the boy himself to the palace to ensure he grew up with a much greater respect for loyalty than his father.

Jaskier wondered if it had worked. The statue's expression was frozen in a smirk; as if he knew a joke and was only waiting for the right moment to share it with you.

Which of course meant the third statue was the child sent by the druids of the south, to learn the ways of the court and be their representative. Geralt, he was called, of the White Wolf Grove.

He knew their stories, knew their song too - the one the great bard Dandelion had penned about them some years back, commissioned by the king himself in honor of his cursed wards.

But what he didn't know, was how to break this bloody curse.

He flopped onto the grass, exhausted after being up all night, not to mention sneaking into the gardens themselves. During the day, they were too filled with would-be curse breakers, all lined up and hoping to get lucky.

But now, lying on his back in the cool grass with the sky just beginning to lighten with the first hints of dawn, it was quiet. Beautiful, even.

Jaskier glanced again at the three statues and sighed.

Well, it was worth a try, right?

He wondered if they'd ever heard their song. Standing here all this time, had anyone ever bothered to play it for them?

It really was a lovely piece. Jaskier had sung it practically ever day as a child. Even then, he'd loved to sing, loved it more than...than almost anything.

He hadn't brought his lute of course. Even as sorry as that old banged up third hand instrument was, it was still too precious to him to risk losing should he find himself needing to flee from some overly zealous palace guard.

Which, speaking of...

Jaskier eyed the still lightening sky, the first edges of pink just kissing the horizon. Better get back before it was light enough for them to spot him. Those hedges sure weren't going to climb themselves.

But...

He turned, not quiet sure why; looking once more at the stone grey eyes of the cursed statues.

It really would be a shame to stand here for ages, see all these people day in and day out, without ever knowing why.

What could five more minutes hurt, really?

It's not like Jaskier had classes to get to or anything.

And so...he sang. There, sitting up in the middle of the small circle of statues in the heart of the palace gardens, he sang about loss and heartache, about family and gifts, about love - and about regret.

And when he finished, as the last note faded into the air and he finally opened his eyes -

He heard three more pairs of lungs draw breath alongside his own.

Three sets of eyes, their gazes locked on him; flashing golden in the dawn's light as the sun began to rise.

@continentcakeshop @oxenfurt-archives

#witcher fic #geraskier #geralt/jaskier #geralt x jaskier #ask games #this was NOT supposed to be an actual fic DAMMIT #pre-relationship

[fablewoven]

For anyone actually wondering, my portrayal of Yennefer includes the following from her sources to make her who I write her as.

The Books:

Her mother was the half elf and her father was so upset about the elven blood making their child deformed that he took it out on her verbally and physically, and then after he finally left, Yennefer's mother started abusing her until Tissaia took her off her hands.

Tried to kill herself in Aretuza.

Tissaia ordered her transformation and was the one that took away her ability to have kids and didn't tell her about it--Yennefer did not ask for that stuff on her own, but she was more than okay being beautiful and feared after the life she had with her parents. Also, honestly, she wanted to be better than the bullies she had, like Sabrina.

Hates politics, but deals with it when she has to.

Quit Aretuza over failing to save a child, and she will protect all children at all costs, especially female ones. Kids are her weak spot.

Lets Ciri crawl into bed with her when she has nightmares.

Will go feral over Ciri and Geralt on any ocassion.

Is a bit possessive of Geralt, but prolly not entirely to the extent of the books where he leaves over it a couple times, but I attribute some of that to the fact that I do believe Andre doesn't always know how to write women and keep them in character when he just wants drama for drama in the novels.

Has no issues doing necromancy, even though it's a dark art, but she mostly only does it to try and find Ciri.

Ciri is her child and she refers to her as such.

Has a pet Kestrel.

Witcher 3 Game:

Portals people and things off waterfalls when she's mad.

Has a unique bond with ravens.

I feel like this list is short, but the Games were so good at incorporating more of her Book attitude already, so Witcher 3 is just part of her because I liked it. Not a perfect adaptation, of course, but I enjoyed Yennefer, so...

Netflix:

Anya is her face claim.

She's older than 13 when she becomes a sorceress (that's how old she was in the books when Tissaia sterilizied her), but prolly admittedly not as old as Netflix has her doing everything.

Yen and Jaskier bonding/friendship.

Netflix has its own verse and it is only in the Netflix version of stuff that I will accept the Deathless Mother as she is Netflix only created. I will also only RP that fallout with the modifications I made over it, which is in a different post.

My Own Flushed Out Headcanons For Her:

Will hold Triss accountable for r*ping Geralt, and does not forgive her just because they're 'sisters' and 'good friends'.

Because of this, Yennefer tries really hard not to manipulate Geralt in any way. She already did after they started a relationship try to only read his mind occasionally, but after the Triss stuff she has a much harder time doing stuff. She's self aware, okay?

Does on some level blame Tissaia for what she has lost, but sees her as a mother and does feel indebted to her for everything she gained from becoming a sorceress.

Is still the 'horseman of war', and I feel like I'll flush that out more later because she's not the actual horseman, but it's a book thing.

She's a bitch sometimes, but she's a soft Mom to the people that she loves, even if sometimes she's loving in a tough love approach.

If you ever have any other questions, feel free to ask, and not be a dick about it, like the anon in my inbox right now. I have said multiple times that my Yennefer in her main state is a MIX of all of her sources. She is mine, and I am feral about her, and I get to portray her however the fuck I want to. I'm sorry I'm one of maybe 5 active Yen's, but you don't get to tell me how to write my muses.

I'm also sure I'll update this occasionally, but yeah.

#•~⍣ᴏꜰ ʟɪʟᴀᴄꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ɢᴏᴏꜱᴇʙᴇʀʀɪᴇꜱ [yen things] #getting that anon before i work all day made me side eye #but i am proud of my yen #and you can take it or leave

[katwriteswitcherthings]

Title: Vi Moxt Miirik (Chapter Twelve - Also on AO3)

Prompt: Wuv WHUMP: Flower Crowns

Pairing: Geralt & Jaskier

Rating: T

Warnings: None

The resolution to The Mountain. You know how a lot of my whumpy chapters haven't really been, ya know, whumpy? ...yeah... I make up for that here. It gets sad.

Summary:

Our favorite lovable Bard is a little more than he let's Geralt know. Follow them through the years as he learns to let down his walls and show Geralt how beautiful he really is.

Chapter Twelve

Geralt awoke with a start. He was curled up on his bedroll next to Jaskier's. He stared blearily at Jaskier's back as he tried to process what was wrong. He remembered drinking with the dwarves late into the night. He remembered the offered alcohol being really strong. He remembered cuddling with Jaskier.

"Where the fuck are those dwarves?" Yennefer yelled as she excited her tent. Geralt sat bolt upright and looked around. The campsite had been abandoned; it was just Yenn, him, and Jaskier still curled up asleep on the bedroll next to him.

There was no time. Yennefer started running down the path. Geralt shoved Jaskier's shoulder roughly as he sprang up, desperately pulling his armor and swords on.

"Hm? Whazzat?" Jaskier sat up and looked sleepily at Geralt.

"Dwarves left. Yenn left." Geralt grunted quickly before he started running.

"I thought we were leaving?" Jaskier was yelling as he stood. Geralt turned for just a moment.

"I have to stop them." He called back, and hoped that Jaskier understood.

Yennefer froze the dwarves near the top of the mountain and Geralt caught up to her at the entrance of the cave. There was the green dragon, dead, curled protectively around her egg.

Because of course she was protecting her egg. Tea and Vea were impossibly there, wielding their swords expertly. And then… Borch. A fucking golden dragon, and apparently the father of the wrymling in the egg. Because of course he fucking was.

Boholt and the Reavers finally showed their faces, and as Yenn and Geralt fought them to protect the egg, the only thought that Geralt had was to thank all the gods above that Jaskier wasn't here. There would have been no way Geralt could protect him as well as deal with the Reavers.

Jaskier yawned a little as he walked up the path alone. There was only one, and he knew Geralt had headed off this way, so hopefully he wouldn't get lost. He smiled as he remembered the night before, even if the dwarves had had an alternative reason to get him and Geralt very very drunk. It was so nice to fall asleep cuddled up to his Witcher.

"Oh!" Jaskier exclaimed, seeing a small field of flowers growing a little ways off the path. It was unusual to see flowers this high up. Maybe the dragon had planted them? If this was near a den, it only made sense to make it beautiful.

White camellias waved in the breezes, beautiful and delicate, and Jaskier picked a handful before moving on down the path. If he remembered correctly, they were a symbol of love and affection, though he couldn't quite remember in which culture.

Just a little further found him stumbling across bright yellow peonies. Those would make an excellent addition to his little bouquet. The promise of new beginnings. It would be fitting; a gift of love at the start of their new relationship.

"Are we queuing for something, gents?" Jaskier asked as he stumbled upon Yarpin and his crew. They were frozen in place, though he could see them starting to twitch and wiggle. The enchantment from Yennefer would be wearing off soon, no doubt. 

Jaskier looked at the flowers in his hands and decided to make them into a crown as he kept walking. It was easy enough for him to do absently; he and his sisters made them all the time when they were growing up it became second nature.

After the Reavers were finally dead, with Yennefer getting to finish off Boholt as promised, the dwarves and Jaskier showed up. Borch, back in his human guise, offered up his lady's teeth and a very real threat in exchange for them leaving right then.

"This is it. My final adventure." Borch said as he sat down on a large rock next to Geralt outside his den.

"A child?" Geralt asked, skeptically.

"Everyone wants a legacy." Borch said with a soft smile. Yennefer stepped up to him and held her sword to his throat, her face perfectly schooled neutrality.

"I should kill you." She forced out. "That's why I came all this fucking way. I need ingredients." And something in that clicked in Geralt's mind. The things they had never talked about when they had been together. The research she was always doing.

"Yenn. Don't tell me you believe the rumors about fresh dragon hearts being a magic cure-all." Geralt asked, voice not quite soft but not judgemental either.

"You know nothing, Witcher." She spat, not taking her eyes off Borch. He was still sitting there, calm as you please. "I've done the research. It is possible."

"I thought mages couldn't get sick." Jaskier piped up from somewhere off behind Geralt.

"We are cured of all ailments during our Ascension for the cost of others, bard." Yennefer spat again, venom lacing her voice. "I want my choice back." Borch just sighed and pushed Yennefer's blade away with a gentle hand.

"I am going to save you three a lot of hurt later by giving you a little now." Borch spoke with a command in his voice that Geralt had never heard before. "Yennefer, you will never regain your womb. Jaskier, you will never find your happiness until you stop pretending to be something you are not. Geralt, though you have fought valiantly, you will lose both the people you want the most." Borch eyed Yennefer for a moment before he smiled, just a little. "I can see why you would try, though."

Nobody moved for several long tense minutes before Yennefer turned toward him, questions and fury written all over her face.

"The djinn. I made a wish." Geralt finally said. It wasn't the words he wanted; there was more nuance to it than that. But his throat had tightened up, making more words impossible.

"Is that why?" Yennefer asked, taking one step toward Geralt. "Why I feel so strongly for you? Why we can never escape each other? It's all just magic. It was never real." She sounded so broken, it twisted something inside of Geralt around until he thought he was going to be sick. He took a step forward, hand coming up to reach for her, but she turned away from him. Fury radiated off her in waves, and Geralt was too much a coward to stop her. To actually explain.

He let her leave.

She didn't look back.

Geralt's heart had been shattered and mended too many times before.

He was so tired of trying. Something moved in the corner of his eye, a bright flash of red. Geralt let himself snarl as he turned. There stood Jaskier, holding a ridiculous crown of yellow and white flowers, a look of pity and hurt clear on his face.

"Go on then." Geralt spat at him. "Walk away, too." Jaskier just shook his head sadly.

"Unlike Yennefer, darling, I know what a djinn's magic can and cannot do." He spoke with such surety, it brought all those little incongruities Geralt had observed for years right to the forefront of his mind. "You might have bound us all together, but the emotions are all ours. She'll figure it out soon enough and come back, like always."

"How can you stand there and act like this is okay?" Geralt asked, knowing that he could not do this another time. He would not survive Jaskier leaving him too. Not after everything.

"I accepted a long time ago that my heart is a fool and I can neither control its choices nor the choices of others. I am here if you still want me. I'll be here even if you don't." Jaskier was calm, his voice soothing against the hurt Geralt was trying to drown in his mind. How could he be so calm?

And then Borch's words to Jaskier echoed across his mind.

Geralt was done with everything.

He was hurting. He was tired. And he was backed into a corner.

So he did the only thing he knew to do in this situation.

"And lie to me, the whole time doing it?" Geralt roared out in anger, making Jaskier flinch back. Where did that even come from?

"I... That's not fair. I can't." Jaskier was at a startling loss. He thought... Jaskier could feel the tears building in his eyes but he ignored it.

"And why not?" Geralt growled, voice dipping low in anger.

"... I can't..." Jaskier ground out, never hating his heritage and upbringing more than in this moment. How he longed to tell Geralt. For years and years, he's wanted to. But Mother... If Jaskier did and it was for anything other than life and death stakes...

Jaskier would never be able to go home again.

"...I want to... Have wanted to for years! You have to understand, Geralt..."

"Enough!" Geralt roared at him, turning his back on the bard. Jaskier stumbled back slightly as though he'd been slapped. He couldn't help it. 

"Right. Uh... Right, then." Jaskier swallowed the lump in his throat. He looked down at the unfinished flower crown in his hands. "I'll... See you around, Geralt."

He'd already had to watch Geralt turn away from him once and run to Yennefer.

He couldn't do it again.

He put the crown down on one of the rocks, and turned on his heels. He followed after the dwarves, uncaring as his tears flowed down his cheeks.

Geralt stood there on that mountain top for hours. He did not cry.

He stared at the flower crown Jaskier had been making. It was laying atop one of the large rocks next to him.

It had unraveled somewhat, white and yellow blossoms spilling onto the ground as the winds blew.

They were cold.

Geralt was cold.

It would be winter soon.

#what about the bard #wuv the bard #whump the bard #jaskier whump #jaskier #geralt of rivia #geraskier #The Mountain(TM) #geralt cant communicate #non human!jaskier #my fanfic

[narniaandplowmen]

undone again

Fandom: The Witcher  Pairing: Geralt/Jaskier  Also on AO3 10059 words.

Mature / Graphic Depictions Of Violence Chapter 1/4 (2707 words)

chapter one - chapter two - chapter three - chapter four

Summary:

Look at him now, the offspring of the King's most obedient followers, knee-deep in mud and covered in soldiers' blood. Saving the ass of the person he had sworn never to follow again. See, not obedient at all. Though Fate was still a– a– Jaskier sighed. He'd come up with a proper insult when he wasn't actively ruining his favourite doublet. Maybe after a long bath and a night's rest. And after a decent fucking blowjob.

* * *

Jaskier had once met Fate. She had predicted mountain-side confessions, deep kisses, mutual desire. And with that, Fate had vanished, leaving behind a sprig of yarrow, two sharp, silver daggers, and a piece of Cintran-blue string. That summer, Geralt had gone dragon hunting. That summer, it all had come undone.

and the thorns

Fate, the bastard. Is it still called a bastard if it's a woman? Not that gender mattered much, mind you, but Jaskier couldn't help but feel like ‘bastard’ was a particularly masculine insult. And he was painfully aware that Fate was a woman. Besides, why was bastard an insult anyway? A poor chap couldn't help the circumstances of his, or her, or their, whatever the case might be, birth. They could help the nature of their character, however. Jaskier had heard scholars argue that creatures' behaviour was determined by birth, or by the values of those who raised them. But that, in his not-so-expert-opinion, was absolute bullshit. He had never seen his father so much as glance at a lute if not with disgust, nor his mother step even an inch outside of what polite society expected. And look at him now, the offspring of the King's most obedient followers, knee-deep in mud and covered in soldiers' blood. Saving the ass of the person he had sworn never to follow again. See, not obedient at all. Though Fate was still a– a– Jaskier sighed. He'd come up with a proper insult when he wasn't actively ruining his favourite doublet. Maybe after a long bath and a night's rest. And after a decent fucking blowjob. 

* * * 

Jaskier had been kneeling in a small dark alley in a place he could not even begin to guess the name of with a muscular man leaning against the wall in front of him. Everything had, all things considered, been going quite well since he left Oxenfurt a month ago. He'd managed to avoid the Nilfgardian army, stay on the run, and travel through the countryside anonymously. He was now several days into Redania, well on his way towards the Northern Kestrel Mountains. No one would be able to find him in the extensive network of caves and tunnels near Cairngorn, not even a mage. Jaskier wasn't an idiot, no matter what foolish character he portrayed on stage. He was fully aware that Nilfgard would chase him down, try to capture and torture him. Wasn't he, after all, the Witcher's bard? By now the emperor must know about Ciri, about the Law of Surprise, about the main threat to his impending rule. Not that anyone would want a Witcher as their emperor, of course. But the story of a lost princess saved by an unlikely hero was one that would be enjoyed and applauded by all. And there is little as threatening to a newly forming empire than the hope that sparks rebellions. 

So, Jaskier was on the run. He'd hidden his lute underneath the loose floorboard in the dorm he lived in during his third year in Oxenfurt, dyed his hair black, let his beard grow, and started walking. Pretending to be an apprentice travelling home, a monk on a pilgrimage, a mourning widower on his way to deliver the sad news of his wife's passing to her family… Every day there was a different story to be told. Today, he vaguely remembered, he was supposed to be a university researcher, looking for a specific species of plant. Not that his thoughts were much occupied with the role he was supposed to be playing, what with the man in front of him making quick work of the laces keeping his now clearly too-tight pants in place. The man had been making eyes at him from the other side of the tavern for the entire evening already, and when the man had left it had taken Jaskier little time to follow him, leading to their current position. He might be on the run, Jaskier considered, but that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy himself. 

The man pulled down his pants revealing an already delightfully hard cock. With little patience for preamble or foreplay Jaskier dove in, taking the length in front of him in his mouth, pressing the man's hips against the wall with his hands. A loud moan sounded above him in reply, sending a shiver down Jaskier's spine. If he wasn't aroused before, he certainly was now. Jaskier shifted his knees to give his own rapidly hardening cock more space, cupped the man's balls and sucked. Another moan was his reward. A strong, callused hand tangled in his hair pushed and Jaskier moved with, quickly finding a rhythm he knew would tantalise, pleasure, drive mad. He could, for safety's sake, not perform with his lute, but he could perform this. And where others might believe kneeling to be a subservient position, Jaskier had always felt it to be delightfully powerful to make another beg and plead, to push them to the edge and keep them there, to teasingly withdraw before finally, finally allowing the pressure to release and swallowing all, leaving no evidence but the shattered breaths of the body above him. He needed no names, no words, no lies or deceit for this process. All he needed was his tongue, his hands, and his endless determination. 

Just as Jaskier was about to rise, the man's relaxed body suddenly went stiff, his heavy breathing stopped, and his half-closed eyes opened, staring in fear at a point behind Jaskier, towards where the alley met the main road. Digging one knee in the sand below him Jaskier turned his weight, allowing him to look sideways at the source of the disturbance. An angry wife, maybe, or a disappointed father. Perhaps even a confused child, unsure what the noises coming from his father and a stranger meant. But no, rather than a spurned spouse or ruined innocence, the light coming from the houses on the main road lit up the silhouette of a soldier. And, as the man stepped closer, Jaskier realised it was no friendly one indeed. Even in the darkness surrounding them, Jaskier could easily make out the Nilfgardian sun emblazoned on the soldier's chest. Fuck. 

The soldier stood, stared, seemed to search the alley for others, then turned his face back to the main road and yelled an "ALL CLEAR!". But Jaskier's sigh of relief came too early. 

"Come," the soldier demanded, pointing at the pair. "Both of you." 

Jaskier got up, slowly, mechanically, using the still frozen body next to him as support before dragging it along, demanding it in a hushed voice to follow the command, make no fuss. 

"State your name and occupation," the soldier demanded the moment they stepped into the light. 

"Robert, botanical researcher." Jaskier lied smoothly. His companion stayed silent, until a firm elbow from Jaskier in his side finally awakened him from the shock. 

"Egil, smith." 

That explains the muscles, Jaskier vaguely thought.

"What's a researcher doing so far away from his books?" 

"I'm looking for a taraxacum officinale, to dissect and research. I have a theory that—" but the soldier raised his hand and Jaskier felt silent, desperately hoping that the armed man in front of him had been a soldier from the start, not an unfortunate university student talked – or forced – into conscription. Taraxacum officinale, really? That was the best he could come up with? 

A shout from behind cut his thoughts short.

"HE'S HERE!" 

At those words, half a dozen soldiers appeared from houses and alleyways, weapons raised, eyes filled with fury. 

"Go inside. Don't leave," the soldier who had found Jaskier and the smith demanded, before running in the direction of the shout, from which Jaskier could now hear the sounds of steel against steel. A panicked whinny of a horse, a scream of a young girl. It sounded strangely familiar, but he had little time to consider the noise before an injured brown horse carrying a small figure fled onto the street, away from the soldiers towards the deep forest surrounding the small village. Indistinct yells, commands, a rushing in various directions as some set to pursue, others to assist the ongoing fight, now spilling into the main street. 

Now it was Jaskier's turn to freeze. Three of the soldiers were fighting a white-haired man, dressed in all black, wielding one sword with the other on his back. "Geralt," Jaskier breathed, resisting the pull of Egil trying to drag him back into the tavern. A smith might be strong, but the years of travelling the continent by foot had left its traces on Jaskier's body. Picking his battles, Egil let go of the strangely strong professor. He would have to fend for himself. 

Geralt. How. He was in the middle of Melitele-knows-where and there was Geralt. Why wasn't the idiot in hiding? Somewhere North? At Kaer Morhen? Or anywhere far, far away from Nilfgard, from Sodden, from Cintra. 

Cintra. 

Fuck. 

Geralt really had the worst timing when it came to being the hero. And, Jaskier regretfully thought, so did he. 

In one smooth movement, Jaskier unsheathed the two daggers he kept in his boots, using the momentum to push himself forward, running. A fourth soldier had now arrived at the Witcher's battle, and no matter how talented the swordsman, there is no one who can beat four enemies at once. The first rule of sword fighting, his father had taught Jaskier, was to have the benefit of surprise. The only way to win is to kill your enemy with your first swing. 

Jaskier sent a quick word of thanks to the gods that the soldiers had clearly not expected a fight, being in armour made to impress rather than to defend. Without helmets to protect their necks, Jaskier could easily grab one from behind, slitting his throat before the man well and truly realised what had happened. The body dropped with a thud, revealing behind it a dishevelled Geralt. His movements were slow, Jaskier noted, not slow for a mortal but certainly for a Witcher. He favoured his right leg, seemed to wince when his left arm made a particular movement — years of companionship allowed Jaskier to observe this all in a split second. The black fabric did not show it, but Jaskier knew Geralt was bleeding. Profusely. 

A quick hack made short work of the second soldier, too surprised by the sudden addition to the fight to realise the need for a new defence. Next to him, Geralt made use of the distraction to cut through the third. Without stopping Jaskier turned to face the final soldier, the one who had found him on his knees still swallowing down the seed from the local smith. 

"You're no professor." 

"Oh, I am," Jaskier replied with a grin. Next to him, he felt Geralt stiffen in recognition. "Just one that can wield a dagger. Both that of others," he briefly glanced down to the soldier's groin, "and that of my own," Jaskier finished as the soldier automatically followed his gaze. In half a second, Jaskier's blade lodged itself into the side of the neck, cutting through the veins and muscles like a cook preparing the evening's meat. 

"We need to get out of here before the others return." 

"Jaskier." 

Oh, how he had missed that voice, how he had missed the sound of his name in the Witcher's mouth. Yet there was no time for dwelling, for reminiscing, for apologies or explanations. 

“We can talk later. Come.’’

After putting his weapons back in his boots, Jaskier turned in the direction Roach and the figure had disappeared, and set off running. Familiar footsteps behind him followed, but uneven, labouring. Do Witchers ever retire? Yeah, when they slow and get killed.

* * * 

Jaskier had once met Fate. It had been an early spring, and he had set off from Oxenfurt with a heart full of hope and a purse full of money earned lecturing. This year, he had told himself, this year he would finally gather the courage, would finally share his heart and confess to his white-haired Witcher that he was his, that Jaskier loved and adored the man with every fibre of his being, that there was nothing that could change it, that his mind, body and soul were Geralt’s, and Geralt’s alone. But on his way to where he knew Geralt would soon be, he had met a woman. She had been beautiful, but not traditionally so, ethereal and strange in a way that was not strange enough to warrant a different greeting than the friendly nod and cheerful ‘hello’ Jaskier granted all those who passed on his path. But unlike most, the woman had not merely greeted back and continued on her way. She had stopped, turned around, away from the direction she was headed in to walk with Jaskier instead. They had chatted, Jaskier had flirted, and Fate had grabbed his hand and read his palm. She had predicted golden dragons, great battles, bloodied daggers. She had predicted mountain-side confessions, deep kisses, mutual desire. And with that, Fate had vanished, leaving behind a sprig of yarrow, two sharp, silver daggers, and a piece of Cintran-blue string.

That summer, Geralt had gone dragon hunting. And rather than mountainside confessions of love, which Jaskier had so presumptuously imagined, Geralt had spit venom in his direction. That summer, it all had come undone.  

* * * 

The forest was dark, but the half-waxing moon visible through the bare winter boughs lit the path brightly enough for running, endless, endless running. Hoofprints in the sand, muddled by soldiers’ footprints, created ample inspiration for the nightmarish potential futures running through Jaskier’s head. Would they be able to find the girl? And if they did, would it be on time? Or would the soldiers – not trained well enough to defeat a Witcher and a Witcher’s bard, but certainly trained well enough to capture a young girl – have finished their deed before they could arrive? How much of a head start had they had had? And how quickly could an injured horse carry a panicked girl away to safety? Was there even any safety left?

“Wait.”

Jaskier almost did not hear Geralt’s voice through the storm inside his head. 

“Quiet.”

He stopped, held his breath.

The rustle of the wind in the few pine trees, the distant babbling of a brook. Footsteps. 

Jaskier bent down, unsheathed his two bloodied daggers, stood ready.

The attack still came as a surprise.

Seven of them arrived at once, from three different directions. Jaskier, still out of breath from running, Geralt, injured and weakened even more. Jaskier had heard the story of the ‘Butcher of Blaviken’ many a time. People had pulled him aside, told him of the horrors, warned him of the dangers of travelling with any Witcher, but the white-haired one in particular. They had told him the Witcher had killed half a dozen trained men and a girl in the middle of a city square. They had told him that the Wolf had survived the city’s attempt at stoning him, that the rocks they had thrown had turned to sand without causing injury. That the white-haired madman had smiled as he had walked away. That the Butcher of Blaviken had massacred innocent people, and that he would hurt Jaskier too.

Jaskier had believed the stories to be exaggerated. He knew Geralt was a good swordsman, a talented fighter. But no man, nor witcher, could fight so brutally and win. And Geralt, his Geralt, would never slaughter the innocent, let alone smile while doing so. But in one thing, the warnings had been correct. The Witcher had indeed hurt Jaskier, though he had needed no sword for that. His words had been sharp enough tools to cut Jaskier down, crush his heart and leave him broken and bruised. 

But now, surrounded by Nilfgardian soldiers, Jaskier realised two things. Firstly, the stories he had been told were less overstated than he had believed. And secondly, he had never seen Geralt truly fight. Sure, he had seen the Witcher cut down monster after monster, but all of those for pay. This was different. This was not for profit, not out of a sense of duty, not from the Witcher’s creed to protect the Continent and all its citizens. This fight was for Ciri, for a little orphaned girl who relied on him and him alone. This fight was personal. And where Jaskier killed two, Geralt’s swings created the other five lifeless bodies on the path. Staggering, hand grasping his side, the Witcher looked up after cutting down the last of the men. 

“Downstream,” he breathed.

And with that, his own body hit the ground.

next chapter

#geraskier #geraskier ff #geraskier fanfiction #geraskier fanfic #jaskier #geralt #the witcher #the witcher ff #the witcher fanfic #the witcher fanfics #written by me #made by me

[chandelier-s-notebook]

Does the @witchersummercamp team have a day built in their FAQ at the end of the week for people to post missed prompts? Yes. Will I not be able to finish this event if I don’t do it in order? Also, yes. So here’s yesterday’s prompt, today’s will be coming later.

Day 4 Prompt: Mischief

AO3 Link (628, G)

---------------------------------

Kingdom Dancing in a Wooden Clearing

“And how have you managed this?” Yennefer asked when she returned from the afternoon’s hunt.

“Managed what?” Jaskier asked innocently.

She  gesticulated vaguely to the scene in front of her.

Jaskier thumbed at his lute thoughtfully. “Hmmm?”

“Jaskier!”

“What?”

The witch gestured to the scene once more, raising a brow. “The dancing Geralt?”

“Oh the dancing Geralt!” The bard’s face broke into a smile. “Well our lovely Princess Cirilla wanted to brush up on her dancing skills. While I am an excellent dance partner, I am the bard, and Ciri said she can’t dance without music.” He made his own wild gesture to the woods. “There aren’t very many dancing partners out here, so Geralt it was!”

Geralt hummed in agreement, trying his best to follow Ciri’s footwork for the solo sections.

“You can dance bard?”

“Why of course!”

“He refuses to show me!” Ciri called. “We’re taking his word for it at the moment.”

Yennefer tilted her head to the side in amusement.

“If the princess says we can’t dance without music, then dance without music I shant. And if I’m not playing the music, my dear witch, then who is?”

Yennefer unfroze her soles from the ground and went about preparing their evening meal.

“I think he’s just trying to get out of it.”

“Well Geralt said he’d rather dance than try to play your music, princess; it’s not like I had a choice.”

“I’ve seen you prance around a pub during your performances,” Yennefer quipped. “But I can’t quite imagine Jaskier doing a waltz.”

“Well I haven’t waltzed in ages, but when you learn so young it becomes muscle memory.”

“You learnt how to waltz?” Ciri asked under Geralt’s shoulder.

“I’m a Viscount, princess. Of course my mother to taught me to waltz. Dance was the one class I was forced to take as a Viscountling that I enjoyed any amount.”

Yennefer scoffed. “You’re a Viscount?”

Geralt hummed.

“He is?”

“Begrudgingly,” Geralt answered. “He was called home when his father died years ago. They agreed that Jaskier keeps the title, but his younger brother does the Viscount things.”

Jaskier picked a flourish on his lute. “Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount of Lettenhove, at your service.”

Ciri giggled. “No. You aren’t.”

Jaskier turn to her. “You doubt me, little mischief maker? How shall I prove it?”

“A duel,” Yennefer suggested.

“If I could duel that would make everyone’s life so much easier.”

Geralt hummed while he led Ciri through another twirl.

“Yennefer can you play the lute?” Ciri asked. “If Jaskier can dance, we will go to Lettenhove next, to see if he really is a Viscount.”

Yennefer laughed. “I can’t play, but I spent thirty years in court. I can dance if you’d like to practice your lute playing.”

She sent him pleading eyes he couldn’t refuse. “Oh can I, Jaskier?”

“Very well.”

She whooped with glee.

Geralt let her go softly, and the two bowed. He then left to take over dinner preparations.

Jaskier removed his lute strap, and placed his instrument on the princess’s lap when she ran to sit next to him. He got her in position to play.

“Oh Jaskier. I don’t know any ballroom songs.”

“We can dance to Toss a Coin,” Yennefer called.

“We most certainly cannot! Toss a Coin is in four counts; a waltz is in three.”

“Have you taught her any songs in three count, bard?”

“Erm. No.”

“Then Toss a Coin it is. Surely you can dance a waltz no matter the song.”

“My dear witch, I said I could dance, not that I’ve done it recently.”

Yennefer and Jaskier bowed.

“Backing down from your claim?”

“Never.” He took the witch’s hand in his own. “Let’s dance. Play the song, little mischief maker.”

Ciri started strumming.

#WitcherSummerCamp #Jaskier #Yennefer #cirilla of cintra #Geralt #the Witcher

[maithefluffychicken]

A Chef AU nobody asked for :)

Geraskier ficlet, rated T, live writing on discord (sorry @nadsdraws to have to read all my rambling), not betaed and, well, enjoy my hyperactive brain :D

You can read it on Ao3 too.

__________________________________________________________

Geralt is a chef with horrible mood, always angry and stressed. he started working in this restaurant called Blaviken, and once he started a discussion with a critic and came out the kitchen with a butcher's knife in his hand, and since then, he's called *The Butcher of Blaviken" and it's a meme, he was fired after that and he opened his own restaurant with his family, but people still call him the Butcher of Blaviken and it hurts and it's pathetic but alas, he made that mistake once.

Eskel, Lambert and himself own this new restaurant called Kaer Morhen, in honour of their father hometown, Lambert is the sumillier and he loves to make original cocktails and brew his own craft beer. Eskel made this program to help young people with no studies, so every year they open KM's door to a few boys and girls and teach them how to run a professional kitchen.

The best three of them will be hire during the year until the next pormotion, the rest will receive a recommendation letter and they'll help them to find a job; some of them will leave, of course, others will stay.

Lambert, during the first promotion, decided to hire one of the boys to help him with the bar. Geralt and Eskel are sure that Lambert and the, well, man now, are dating. But anyway, Aiden Katz is part of their family now after all those years.

So, this year they have 10 younglings to teach, it's a reduced group this year, but well, it's enough.

Vesemir is the manager of the restaurant, but he's tired of being a chef so basically he let his sons to do whatever they want, he trust them. Yennefer is like a celebrity in this au, and she's always there with her new - and some old - boyfriends. No need to say that she's the ex of the infamous Butcher of Blaviken, and why they're still friends it's a mistery, but there they are. That KM has the best pierogis maaaaybe has something to say in this matter.

Eskel is usually who teaches the new alumns, being the most patient of the brothers.

Geralt just tries to keep the kitchen safe and working.

Geralt keeps an eye on every one of the younglings but Eskel is the one who actually teaches them, and then there's this boy, around 23 or so, loud and annoying and with cero talent for this job and who always claims that he should be a singer, not a chef. Geralt is tempted more than once to shove him out of his sacred kitchen. There's also another boy, younger than this one, just as loud and talentless, but bright and kind and who tries very very hard to learn. This one recognises Geralt the first day, and gasps: *I know you, you're the Butcher of Blaviken!" and Gearlt doesn't know why the kid is so fucking happy about it.

Eskel tells Geralt about the promotion, and how none of them have any inclination to become a chef, except maybe the boy with blue eyes and brown, soft hair and melifluous voice - ok, is actually Geralt who seeshim that way, Eskel simply referes at him by his preferred name, Jaskier.

"Literacy was beaten into me with a cane, but now I can play several instruments and I can compose my own music and lyrics, I guess it's the same here," Jaskier has laughed once after burning a fucking, simple soup. The other boy, Valdo Something, it's just a brat that has no respect for the culinary art, so Geralt has his decision. He himself will teach Jaskier and help him, since he's the one that actually wants to learn something.

That Jaskier is always kind to him even if he recognised Geralt from the memes, instead of making fun of him, or that he has the most powerful puppy eyes, or that Geralt catches Valdo Something ogling Jaskier and touching him and making the other boy uncomfortable in their workplace... fuck it, Geralt doesn't have to explain his reasons to want and help Jaskier.

And of course, this is the worst decision ever.  

He could just have asked Eskel, or even Lambert, fuck, even Vesemir, who is a softie and always wanted to adopt another kid, but nooooo.

He had to go and and Jaskier if he really wants to be a chef.

He had to go and offer himself to teach him.

He had to go and look at those baby blue eyes that are sparkling under the artificial white light of the kitchen.

"You won't regret it, Chef Geralt, I want to learn and I don't mind if I have to work twice as hard, I promise."

Geralt is already regretting this decision.

He knows it's against the rules.

He knows he shouldn't be teaching this boy in secret.

He knows he's being unfair to the other boys and girls.

He doesn't give a fuck, though.    

They have to maintain it as a secret - even if Eskel, Lambert, Vesemir and even Yennefer know what Geralt is doing, because come on, Geralt has never being subtle about anything in his life.

But Eskel is happy to see Geralt geting involved in his program.

Lambert is waiting to tease him - he doesn't know it'll backfires him, who is of course dating Aiden because he basically did the same.

Vesemir just wants Geralt to be happy, and Yen is having fun.

-

Being alone with Jaskier is... something.

The boy is flirty, for a start, and that startles Geralt, Jaskier has ever been so discreet and professional, but here, alone, Jaskier flirts with him. Geralt should stop him, he knows, he should put an end on this, but he feels his skin tingling everytime Jaskier touches him, resting his hand over Geralt's arm to ask him whatever, and he feels butterflies in his belly everytime Jaskier beams at him, that is, well, every ten minutes or so.

The boy also works hard, so hard, and with such passion, that Geralt feels... even more flustered, and his chest puffs with pride everytime Jaskier learns a new technique thanks to him.

Geralt discovers that Jaskier, actually, sings, and it's good at it. Jaskier doesn't sing too loud, but he seems unable to stop himself at the deserted kitchen when he forgets about Geralt, and is voice echoes and... it's nice, and not too intrusive, Jaskier sings unconsciously and just stops abruptly to ask Geralt a doubt or whatever.    

After whole two months like this, Jaskier has improved a lot, and he brings a basket full of sweets that he himself has baked to thanks Geralt his private lessons, and Geralt decides that a dry rosé wine will suit those sweets, and they spend the night talking and eating and drinking.

"I always wanted to be a singer," Jaskier admits. "I am a singer. But it's not enough? I saw that video about you and then I decided that I wanted to be a chef too, and I was so nervous when I received the mail saying that I was one of the ten for your program, I still can't believe I'm drinking with Chef Geralt"

Geralt winces. "You want to be a chef because of the video about me swinging a butcher's knife?" "No, that one was hilarious," Geralt grimaces again. "But not, I'm referring about the other video, the first I saw about you!"

Geralt is perplexed, blinking at Jaskier.

"Let me show you,"

Jaskier starts looking in Youtube in his Favourites videos section, and then Geralt is watching a much younger version of himself. The video is old, recorded with an actual camera instead of a phone, and he remembers that day. It was an interview for a local TV channel about young promises, Geralt was just named Chef of the Blaviken, the youngest Chef in the story of Novigrad, he was not older than Jaskier is now.

He's smiling in the video and showing his kitchen to the cameraman and the interviewer, and he shows the recipe of a fish stew, it was a good day.

"I saw that interview on the TV that day, I was with my mom, and I told her that I wanted to be like you, I wanted to be a chef," Jaskier is smiling softly at both Geralts, the younger one in the video and the older one who is sitting besides him. "But she just had bought me my first guitar, and she told me: 'first learn to play the guitar and then we'll talk'" Jaskier laughs.

Geralt is overwhelmed, maybe it's the rosé, maybe it's Jaskier who smells like crème anglaise and chocolate, maybe it's his own memories about him wanting to be a chef

"So I learn that, and then I applied for your program, and here we are."

"And here we are," Geralt repeats.    

Jaskier's scent is sweet and tempting and Geralt wants... he wants to kiss that boy so badly. He doesn't know when it happened, but he's in love, and if he had read all of this correctly, then Jaskier...

Jaskier's gaze flicks to Geralt's lips and back to his eyes, and Geralt feels a hot wave all over his body. Jaskier leans in, still looking at Geralt, unsure, and that can't be. Geralt reaches until his hand wraps around Jaskier's nape and closes the distance between them. Jaskier's lips are plush and soft and sweet and spicy because of the wine and it's everything Geralt wants.

-

When the program is over, Jaskier refuses to be one of the three new employers of the KM restaurant:

"I know I've cheated accepting your help, but most important than the job is to have spent time with you, Geralt, to have you now. I enjoyed that even more than being a Chef."

Valdo is expulsed of the program for being a dick, and Geralt shouldn't be proud of being the one who pushes him out of his kitchen, but he is, he can't stand that asshole.

Geralt and Jaskier don't want their relationship to be a secret, either, and then Geralt decides that they can have it all. They both can be chefs and in love and, for some years, Jaskier works with him at the KM restaurant.

Geralt wants Jaskier to have everything he wants, so he decides to invest in another restaurant after talking about it for months, "The Wolf and the Buttercup", a lovely bistró that offers live music, and sometimes the Chef joins the band and sings too.

It's good that The Wolf and the Buttercup opens only for dinner shift, so he can spend the rest of the day with Jaskier - Jaskier even helps during lunch shift at the Kaer Morhen. And it's just a coincidence that during the only day that the KM is closed for the rest of the personal, the one and only Butcher of Blaviken can be seen there at the Wolf and the Buttercup, enjoying the food and the music, and when Chef Jaskier is done, he leaves his guitar in the scenario and he sits with him and share a kiss or two - and the dessert, chocolate soufflé with crême anglaise.

#geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #geralt x jaskier #falling in love #getting together #chef au #Chef Geralt #Chef Jaskier #Kaer Morhen is a restaurant #happy ending #fluff #live writing #the witcher fanfiction

[ladyannemarie5]

Geraskier Mamma Mia!AU

I started reading a wonderful fic on ao3 with the Mamma Mia theme titled "It's a Game We Play" by BambiRex (Geraskier/ Yennskier/ Radskier) and remembered I had a similar idea in my drafts with Jaskier, Geralt, Eskel and Lambert, so here it is.

-------------------

Geralt, Eskel and Lambert live and run Kaer Morhen in the mountains, a residence for retired soldiers or those who simply can't find a home. The three brothers have been in charge of the place since Vesemir retired a few years ago and with them, the place has blossomed to welcome their brothers in arms in a calm and relaxed atmosphere. 

Ciri, Geralt's adopted daughter is a lovely teenager whose love and devotion lies with her father, uncles, aunts, grandfather and of course, her favorite singer: Jaskier. 

Ever since Ciri met Jaskier when she was in elementary school, her love and obsession for the singer grew more and more each day to the discomfort of her father and uncles. 

Every year without fail, Ciri hogs the TV room to watch the entire award season wherever Jaskier goes and that year is no exception. 

For some strange reason, Eskel, Lambert and Geralt always accompany Ciri to watch the awards. Their reason, they say, is to make sure the girl doesn't see anything inappropriate on TV. The teenager doesn't complain because she loves telling people about Jaskier and the meaning of his songs. 

Jaskier wins the Grammy for Album of the Year for the third year in a row to the delight of everyone present, and his speech changes everyone's life in Kaer Morhen. 

Jaskier gives the usual thanks to his friends, collaborators and others, and then thanks that wonderful summer love affair he experienced 10 years ago that was the complete inspiration for his winning album. He wishes the best to that man and says in a worldwide live broadcast that sometimes he still thinks about him. 

Ciri, social networks and media go crazy. Geralt, Eskel and Lambert too. 

And of course, Lambert opens his mouth to say that he can't believe Buttercup still thinks about him. The mouths of those present open wide and Ciri starts a whole barrage of questions. Lambert confesses and brags that he met Jaskier one summer 10 years ago and they spent a whole wonderful week together. But it doesn't end there, Eskel jumps in to say that if anyone inspired his Lark to write a Grammy winning album it's him, because apparently Eskel also spent a wonderful summer week by the singer's side. Last but not least, Geralt speaks for the first time since they sat down and confesses that he too spent a week with his Bard 10 years ago. 

From there begins a friendly fight of who is the winning muse of the great singer Jaskier, everyone starts analyzing lyric by lyric claiming that they are inspired by one of them. Everything is a joke (let's not talk that the 3 morons remember to perfection every moment lived with Jaskier and that sometimes they stay awake until the wee hours of the morning trying to remember more), until Jaskier, the great singer, arrives to Kaer Morhen. 

Ciri, fed up with their bickering and excited to be able to reconnect any of the fools with her favorite singer, contacts Jaskier to let him know that he is more than welcome to Kaer Morhen for more inspiration. 

Of course, a series of events begins where Jaskier plays with his wolves to keep them from guessing who has been the biggest muse in his life and which songs are for whom. 

Spoiler: In my mind and heart, Geralt is the obvious winner. 

----------------------------

As always, let me know what you guys think, if you want to add anything, if you don't like it, etc.

Also if you want to take the idea and write it, go ahead. Just remember to tell me so I can read it. The songs I imagine are entirely Taylor Swift songs, but if you have suggestions and for whom, feel free to let me know.

#Jaskier is taylor swift in my mind #guess the songs #jaskier #kaer morons #cirilla fiona ellen riannon #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #eskel #eskel x jaskier #lambert #lambert x jaskier #fanfiction ideas #fanfic #ao3fic

[bambirex]

Hi Bambi! 🐻 Can I ask for some Yennskier where Yennefer finds an orphaned child and she and Jaskier look after/co-parent them and they finally admit their soft feelings for each other, whilst they found their cosy family unit, please? Thank you so much!! 🥰

Hiii! I love found family tropes so much, I've been meaning to write it for a while now ❤️

Warnings: death mention, mention of illness

**

She was so weak, so thin, with all her bones visible under her skin. She shivered pathetically, like a wet, abandoned kitten; maybe even a cat would have weighed more than the little girl did. It was hard to even figure out her age, being so heartbreakingly tiny as she was.

Yennefer fought against the tears in her eyes when the child looked up at her pleadingly. She couldn't just leave her there, standing next to her parents' corpses, covered in blood and mud. She must have been standing there for days, as utterly exhausted as she looked. Who even knew when was the last time the poor thing had eaten anything.

Yennefer tried not to think about the last time she tried to save a child. That baby ended up dying, and Yennefer had never managed to forgive herself. She desperately hoped she could somehow save this one: the way the little girl held onto her hands told her that as weak as she was, this child didn't want to give up yet. Yennefer needed to save her.

She had no idea what she was even going to do. As a first step, she decided to take the child to the person she trusted the most: Jaskier.

When he opened the door and saw Yennefer holding the hand of a dirty and scared little girl, his eyes widened and his mouth fell open. For probably the first time in his life, he was completely speechless. He looked down at the child, then up at Yennefer, then back down at the child again. Yennefer wished she could give him an explanation.

"Alright," was all Jaskier said. His voice wavered slightly, even as he forced a weak smile onto his face. He crouched down to be eye-level with the little girl.

"Hello, there. What's your name, dear?"

Instead of replying, the girl leapt forward, straight into Jaskier's arms. The bard let out a surprised huff, before he tentatively wrapped his arms around her.

The sight of Jaskier hugging the child made something warm blossom in Yennefer's chest.

"We need to help her," she whispered. Jaskier sighed deeply, but he nodded, gently brushing the child's greasy hair out of her face.

"Yes," he said quietly, still holding her against his chest, "of course."

*

For the first couple weeks, she didn't speak, which was understandable after everything she had gone through. But, she wasn't afraid of them, that much was obvious: she always sought them out, followed them everywhere they went inside the house. She was also surprisingly affectionate, always silently asking for hugs.

With the help of Yennefer's magic and their combined care, she was soon getting better. A rosy, healthy color returned to her cheeks, as well as a brightness to her eyes.

In the midst of it all, Yennefer found herself not only getting attached to the child, but to Jaskier as well.

Jaskier, who wouldn't exactly be anyone's first candidate for a father figure, turned out to be a pretty good one, actually. He always sang the little girl to sleep, and cuddled her after a nightmare. He would make an actual fool of himself, making a big show of tripping over his own feet just to make her giggle.

Every single time Yennefer watched him look after the girl, her heart grew several sizes. Jaskier was so kind, so thoughtful. He cared for that child as if she was his own, and he never once acted like she was a burden- or, that Yennefer was, for that matter. He was softer with her now, too, more affectionate even physically. Yennefer found herself enjoying this new life they've built together more each day.

After about a month, the little girl started speaking. She told them her name was Aleana, she always wanted to be a mage, and she loved singing.

"Isn't it interesting, how she's the perfect combination of us?" Jaskier chuckled one evening, after they put Aleana down to sleep. "Destiny really bites us in the ass every single day."

"This isn't destiny," Yennefer replied. She smiled at Aleana's sleeping form, gently caressing a finger down her cheek. "This was choice. And I'm glad we made the choice of taking her in."

"So am I," Jaskier replied softly. He wrapped an arm around Yennefer's shoulder. Yennefer let him: she even leaned into him, enjoying his warmth.

*

The more time they spent together, the more Jaskier became aware his feelings for Yennefer had changed. She became bigger, shinier in his eyes: as Jaskier watched her with Aleana, he realized Yennefer was a much better, kinder person than most people believed.

And she was a wonderful mother, too. She was so gentle with Aleana, never scolding her even when she knocked over her favorite perfume bottles. She braided her hair and crawled around on all fours with her in the grass if Aleana wanted to catch bugs, not caring about her dresses or her dignity.

Fuck, Jaskier was falling in love. With Yennefer, and with this little family they made together.

He's never wanted to have kids. Sure, they were adorable, but they were also messy and required a lot of care. Jaskier barely managed to look after himself sometimes, what would he do with a child?

Yet, now, he wouldn't have it any other way. Aleana was growing stronger and healthier each day, due to their care. They loved her, and she loved them- they belonged together.

*

"I think I love you," Jaskier told her quietly. It didn't come as a surprise, but it still warmed Yennefer's heart.

"I love you, too," she replied as she reached for Jaskier's hand, giving it a squeeze. "You, me, and Aleana... it's real, isn't it?"

"It is," Jaskier lifted Yennefer's hand to his lips, and kissed the back of it gently. "We're a family."

Yennefer looked at Aleana who was busy playing with her ragdolls in the corner. She looked at her shiny hair, her pink cheeks, her happiness. Nowhere was that sickly, sad orphan anymore, and that was her and Jaskier's merit. They made this impossible family together.

"I'm so happy," she said softly. Jaskier smiled and kissed her gently, his hand cupping her cheek.

Sometimes, Yennefer was scared she would wake up and find out she was only dreaming: but every single day, she woke up in Jaskier's arms and to the sound of Aleana laughing in the other room, and that made her realize that no dream could ever match the perfection of reality.

#yennskier #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher fic #yennefer of vengerberg #jaskier #the witcher #my fic #request

[dyns33]

Warming up

Flufftober 13 - Geralt x Reader 

         "If you decide to follow me on the Path, you will have to accept all the consequences, to be prepared to face danger constantly, and if you start complaining, I will kick your ass, get it ?"

Geralt had been very clear.

It was rare that he was so talkative, but when he realized that Jaskier and Y/N had decided to accompany him on the Path whether he wanted it or not, he had preferred to warn them that it would not be an easy trip, that he was not their bodyguard, and therefore that they had to fend for themselves.

Of course, contrary to what people, and even himself sometimes, said, Geralt was not a heartless monster.

If they encountered an enemy, human or creature, he protected them. If they were injured, he treated them. If they were going to do something stupid, he would yell at them to get them out of trouble. Y/N was allowed to ride with him on Roach when she was tired.

Not Jaskier. The bard was too annoying, he had lost the right he might have had to touch the horse the first time they met.

The witcher felt a bit like a father with two rowdy children. Or two overly curious puppies.

It was certainly what Vesemir had felt when he had taken care of him and the others. Geralt had to remember to thank him for his patience the next time he went to Kaer Morhen.

There were still limits to Geralt's kindness.

Everyone had to manage their own stuffs. Money, food, blankets, the little things necessary for survival.

Jaskier was not always well prepared, although he was the one who brought in the most money after Geralt and his contracts. His songs and stories had made him famous all over the country, and thanks to him, they were sometimes entitled to a free meal or night in inns.

But instead of buying himself warm winter clothes, new shoes for walking, or provisions, he often wasted his pennies on unnecessary things, and he prayed on the road that they would stop quickly in a new city.

Y/N was more prudent. Her money, it was Geralt who gave it to her, in exchange for services. Since he didn't like talking to people, and people didn't like talking to him either, he would send her to get orders for him. She took care of his horse. She was cleaning his armour.

With what she earned, she bought everything she could need on the Path, and also gifts for her companions. It was mainly thanks to her that Jaskier had not yet died of hunger or cold.

That evening, her generosity almost caused her harm.

It was terribly cold despite the fire, and when the bard asked if he could take one of her blankets, Y/N couldn't refuse. With his expensive and thick clothes, this is enough for Jaskier to feel a little better, and for him to fall asleep while being a little warmed up.

Not Y/N. Soon she regretted the blanket, starting to shiver, her teeth chattering violently. But she couldn't take it back. And she couldn't ask Geralt for help, that was the rule, or he would get angry.

So she did her best to try not to freeze, getting as close to the fire as possible, puffing into her hands and curling up in her sleeping bag, but it wasn't enough.

At the same time, she had to avoid making too much noise to not wake Jaskier up or annoy Geralt who was meditating at the entrance to the cave.

But it was useless, since with his mutations, the witcher heard everything.

After a few minutes, she heard him sigh and get up. He was going to come and ask her to stop fidgeting, that was for sure.

Instead, without saying anything, he took her in his arms, pulling her away from the fire, leading her towards the exit. It was worse than she had imagined.

           "... I won't make any more noise. Sorry. Don't kick me out." she sobbed as she clung to him. "

           "Calm down."

           "I'm going to freeze to death outside."

           "Shut up."

Geralt went back to his place, keeping her close, wrapping his blanket around her, and massaging her back. He rested his head on hers so that he could continue to observe the surroundings.

It was nice. His body was very hot. Instinctively, Y/N snuggled closer to him, which made him smile.

           "Making yourself comfy ?"

           "... Sorry."

           "Hmm. That wasn't a complaint... sorry for the smell."

           "It's okay. Thanks Geralt. It's... Thanks."

           "Sleep now."

It was not easy with the sounds of the forest, but knowing that he was protected by Geralt, who gently stroked her neck, Y/N ended up falling asleep. She wanted to sleep like this all the time.

Geralt wanted that too. It reminded him of his childhood, when with the other apprentices they all slept together, for reassurance and comfort. But it was not the same with her. It was something else.

The following nights, whether it was cold or not, whether she had enough blankets or not, whether they were outside or in a bedroom, they eventually got into the habit of sleeping together. First Geralt came to get her to bring her back to his bed, then Y/N went to join him without him needing to speak.

Jaskier once tried to slip between them, but the witcher kicked him in the stomach, throwing an extra blanket in his face, and he didn't try again.

#flufftober #flufftober 2021 #geralt #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #geralt imagine

[jaskierswolf]

For the fluffy prompts!!

Geralt learning some fancy braids to help Ciri with her hair🥺

Just some fun fluffy father daughter bonding 🥺🥺

Disclaimer... I've taken elements of s.2 but honestly I have no idea when this is set within the timeline. Don't think look too deeply into that.

I also wrote this ages ago and it was sat in my drafts. Sorry!

CW: None?

AO3

_

Having spent the day watching Ciri fall off the training course, her hair whipping into her face, Geralt knew something needed to be done. He was no stranger to the troubles of long hair but Ciri's ashen blonde hair was nearly twice the length of his. It was even longer than Lambert's when he did, on the rare occasion, wash it. The plait that Ciri was using to keep her hair off her face just wasn't working and it was distracting her from her training. Until she had a better technique and more practice, it was a potentially lethal distraction and Geralt refused to let anything happen to his ward.

But what to do?

If Jaskier were there then he would probably have some bizarre suggestion that would have the pair of them in a shit ton of trouble by the end of the day, one that neither Geralt's sword nor Jaskier's quick wit could save them from.

Maybe Yennefer would have been a better choice to ask, but she had returned to Aretuza with Triss to gain information about the ongoing war.

So it was just Geralt and his brothers. One of which had no hair... and two that really didn't give a shit about it. Still the four of them were gathered around the medallion tree, drinks in hand as they tried to brainstorm a solution. So far the only option they had was a more intricate braid, one that would keep the shorter hair pulled back along with the longer strands.... but how the fuck were they supposed to learn?

"Don't look at me," Eskel grumbled, his arm still resting in the sling as it recovered from the Leshen mutagens. There was still some bark flaking away from his face but he was nearly back to the warm and loving brother that Geralt had always known. "I can't even hold a sword."

"Don't need a sword to sit still and look pretty, idiot," Lambert chuckled, sharing a smirk with Coën. "We need to practise!"

"Why me?" Eskel sighed, running his free hand through his hair and then rubbing his shoulder. "Geralt's hair is longer."

"Well it can't be me, Geralt needs practice and Lamb Chop's hair is a mess," Coen pointed out.

With a sigh, Eskel agreed to let the other three witchers attack his hair, and so it became a routine. For the next few evenings after Ciri had gone to bed, Geralt, Lambert and Coen would braid Eskel's hair until they came up with a fancy braid that was worthy of a princess!

The next day after breakfast, Ciri stood up, already pulling her hair back into its useless braid, but Geralt stopped her, calling her over to him. The princess turned witcher in training rolled her eyes and sauntered over to him, arguments already falling from her lips. It made Geralt shudder as he thought back to his own teenage years, and he pitied his mentor. Vesemir had had four bratty and traumatised young boys to look after on his own, whereas Geralt was barely managing one girl even with the help of his brothers. Without saying anything, he pushed Ciri onto the bench, and started to comb his fingers through her hair.

Trial and error and taught them it worked better if the hair wasn't ratty, and it looked as if Ciri had been taking hair care lessons from Lambert. Geralt sighed, knowing that he probably should have brought a brush with him. He could practically hear Jaskier's complaining in his ears, but his fingers would have to do, and once he was happy the worst knots were detangled, he got to work weaving the strands just like he'd practised with Eskel.

Ciri's hair was longer but that made it easier rather than harder. It just took a few more strands to weave everything in properly as he finished the braids along the side of her head, and the longer plait at the back took more time to finish off, but eventually he tied it all off with Ciri's leather band. When he was done, he tapped her shoulder.

"There," he muttered. "All done."

With a furrowed brow Ciri turned to face him. There were tears in her eyes but mostly she just looked confused. "No one has done that for me since my grandmother..." she trailed off, swallowing as she averted her eyes. "Thank you, Geralt."

"You're welcome, Ciri," Geralt hummed and pulled the girl into a tight hug. "No excuses today though. I expect your best."

Scoffing, Ciri pushed him away. "I always give my best. I'm not Lambert."

And that was that, in a matter of moments everything had returned to normal, but Geralt looked forward to the next morning when they would sit together once more. There was nothing more important in the world than the family one found, and somehow young Cirilla had become a core part of Geralt's.

#the witcher #geralt of rivia #cirilla of cintra #cirilla fiona elen riannon #lambert #eskel #coen #kaer morons #wolfie's witcher writing

[herroyalbubbliness]

MINE

Family...

Photo Credit: IG @netflixgeeked

Goes back to what I always say, family by blood is overrated. Whoever is putting in the work, loving, caring about one is who I call family blood related or not. Ciri's father is trash. Yennefer's stepfather was trash. Geralt's mother, trash too. We don't know a lot about Jaskier's background but he has found a family too, they all have.

One thing I love about Geralt and Yennefer is they have this weird kind of trust but at the same time are fully aware of what the other is capable of. I call them the perfect ying-yang. They are not blinded by love. Their dynamic is one I enjoy and I'm particularly invested in.

The way Yennefer's face lights up at the unicorn scene as she says I'm a beacon of purity, really warmed my heart. It was like the world stood still for a moment. Her smile was soft, genuine, innocent, so bright it could light up a room, immaculately beautiful, and that split second of sheer joy and happiness, that comes from deep within before the guilt of what she was about to do crept right back. It was one of those moments you forget all the troubles you have been in and the ones about to come.

When Ciri asked Yennefer about Geralt and she goes on about longing, regret, hope, and fear, and Ciri is just like so you love him too.

Lilac and Gooseberries

Yennefer: How is this possible

Geralt: I don't care

When Geralt addressed her as dear friend, I laughed so much. And then he had the nerve to call Istredd her other dear friend, it was hilarious.

I think I got a bit of shyness as he introduced Yennefer to Ciri which was cute because Geralt is anything but shy.

It also reminded me of a scene in Killing Eve when Konstantin (also played by Kim Bodnia) was hitting the blender, saying all old friends together, sarcastically of course! Haha!

I loved how Ciri and Yennefer were introduced to each other, I think it was just perfect in explaining who exactly she was and what she meant to Geralt without words said.

Of course, she cared about her power. In such a violent world, there is no convenient time to lose one's powers at all.

I think it was interesting to see Yennefer try to cope without her powers not just in survival, but also in what it meant to her essence. And in the final moment as she slashed her wrists, even if she had died, she would have been satisfied because she had finally filled the void of a child with Ciri.

Yennefer is loyal to herself and the people she loves and that's what I love most about her. She understands the dynamics in the sense of how the different authorities are only out to use one until they are not of use anymore.

"Betrayal doesn't depend on how or how much you love someone. It depends on the magnitude of the dilemma before you."- Berlin in Money Heist

I do not condone Yennefer's intentions to sacrifice Ciri but I understood it.

Yennefer struggles with the feeling of not being enough which stems from her childhood trauma, abuse. Someone also pointed out the parallel between slashing her wrists in season one and season two and that broke my heart.

Four marks

I dreamed of becoming important to someone someday.

This is a woman who had given up on legacy, the hope of having a baby, life in the finale of season one. And even said if she died, that will be okay as she had lived multiple lifetimes to which Tissaia said her power could be her legacy.

Except she didn't die, and the one thing she had, chaos, which she described as her sight and a life force that makes one feel alive was gone too.

Desperation and the need to feel.

Now one may ask, but Ciri is a child, Geralt's for that matter and promising legacy, so why do it?

Out of the three women, she held out the longest.

I find it interesting how Voleth Meir manipulates them using their pain and desires against them, telling them it is what they deserve. Showing Yennefer, not just her trauma but also painting a life she desired (with Geralt and the baby) only to watch it burn and disappear in smoke, using them to make fun of her. The sick manipulation makes the psychological torture of it all heartbreaking.

Three women that have been put down many times, Francesca as an elf, you can imagine. Fringilla is abused as a mage in training, tossed from one king to another as we know how unstable the leadership of Nilfgaard is. And Yennefer, abused by her own family, almost killed by the king she served covering up one atrocity to the other and the wrongs go on and on. So it's not entirely surprising that when a shiny gold-plated promise of power is presented whether that is the live birth of a pure elf or to finally have true power and not just be seen as timid or to have one's chaos back.

Geralt: Nowhere is safe now. You can't run from the world. You can't hide from it. But you can find power and purpose. A chance to survive the horror.

We see how she stumbled in the dark (without her chaos). I felt her painful scream in this scene, juxtaposed with Geralt's monologue to Ciri about finding purpose as we see her struggle in opening a portal, no way forward in sight.

But she tried, knowing how selfish Yennefer can be, she held on. But, in the end, her pain, desperation, and selfishness got the better of her.

Jaskier: Oh, no, well, obviously we'll kill her. We'll definitely kill her. I just haven't found a good enough jabbing stick yet. But what if she's changed too? People do stupid things when they think they're trapped in a corner, Geralt. And they say stupid things. That's what friends do. They come back.

And Jaskier was right because, at the dying minute, she didn't go through with it. I think she had been fighting the internal battle the moment she knew Ciri was his child surprise.

Her facial expression in that split second showed, she realized this was going to be harder than she thought. She had her doubts. She kept avoiding Geralt's eyes when he asked certain questions and drank from her cup because she was nervous and lying. The moment she knew who Ciri was to Geralt, she knew this was going to be harder than she thought.

In talking to Ciri and helping her channel her power, she found something greater than her power, purpose. And she faced her fears of the possibility of never regaining her chaos or being able to feel and finally won her internal battle when she didn't go through it.

She realized everything she ever went through was for a reason and so she could teach someone who will not have to walk the path alone as she did. I think this growth was necessary for herself and also for the role she was going to step into, as a mother figure.

Geralt was very justified in his anger and MINE, remains one of my favorite lines. The anger, protection of his daughter and I think at this point, he had fully accepted/realized that he was a father to Ciri just as Ciri had admitted that he was the father she never had.

The betrayal wasn't just in the fact that she intended to sacrifice Ciri, but in that she knew who and what she meant to him and she still went along with it anyway.

In season three, I expect some work especially from Yennefer in rebuilding the trust she has broken...

#yennefer of vengerberg #yennefer #geralt x yennefer #yennefer x ciri #yennefer x geralt #the witcher spoilers #the witcher #anya chalotra #freya allan #henry cavill #cirilla of cintra #jaskier #witcher season two spoilers #witcher season 2

[witchersgoldenbard]

Soulmate au? <3 wanna tell me more about that? <3 love you!

panda!! i am so proud that you're not inquiring after your gift, you are stronger than me 😌💛 love you so much :3

i am a dummy and already talked about it here... half a year ago. this wip has now actually been in my folders for almost a year (sorry @goldbvtton my lovely)

but it is an au where your eye colour changes when you fall in love, taking on that of your soulmate: one will remain yours; the other will match your soulmate's. jaskier, however, has a capacity for love that is far greater than the world is prepared for, and the rapid changes turn into something scandalous, so his parents lock him away. one day he escapes and meets geralt. here, he thinks, he will be safe, because everyone knows witchers don't have soulmates. and as far as geralt's eyes go, they stay golden. jaskier, however, finds himself falling in love with the witcher, which is both great because this feels like a choice... but also, there is the problem of one of his eyes having changed into a hue of brilliant hazel. who is this person jaskier's soul has been bound to for weeks and months now?

a snippet:

“I can feel no curse,” a very kind, patient old lady told his parents one day while Julian was absentmindedly plucking the strings of a lute. “Your child is as human and as normal as can be.” Julian looked up at that. What a curious thing to say! Of course he was human and normal, he just had funny eyes sometimes. Grown-ups had funny eyes all the time! He didn’t understand why everyone looked at him with intrigue or scorn. Even his parents. “You must be missing something.” His mother’s hands were running through his hair like every time when she was worried. Julian let her. “Is this some play of Destiny? A long forgotten prophesy? The old lady shook her head and Julian was starting to grow uneasy. He didn’t understand their problem. “Your son, milady, merely appears to have a great capacity for love, everywhere he goes.” That, young Julian decided without really understanding the meaning of her words, had a nice ring to it. “That is not how it works, though,” his father chimed in, his arms crossed before is chest, a frown on his face. Julian didn’t like his voice, loud and stern and definitive. “That’s not how any of it works, and you know it!" Julian curled into himself and felt three pairs of eyes on him. He didn’t understand, and he didn’t know what he did wrong. “I want to leave, mama.” “Hush,” his mother whispered and resumed running her fingers through his hair, for his own benefit this time The old lady stood and turned to his father. “In fact, milord, I do not know the workings of Destiny. I have never come across a child, or any other person for that matter, who has the capacity to love as freely and as surely as your son. The urge in his soul is strong, and it is not misplaced. Not a curse. Instead, it is possible his love is meant for something bigger. Something beyond our understanding and something beyond nature. That is all I can tell you.” She turns around to leave. “One last thing, viscount. It is unwise to challenge Destiny. If your son is destined to love, I advise you let him.” She left then, but her words never really did.

ask me about my wips

#nat rambles #geraskier #the witcher #jaskier #geralt of rivia #soulmate au #panda panda i love you #wip game