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fangirleaconmigo · 2 years

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Just wanted to say thank you for your reply and I loved your thoughts netflix Vesemir <3

Though I feel that the major difference between netflix Vesemir and book/game Vesemir is that the latter never had the opportunity to carry out the Trial of the Grasses after the pogrom happened and then Yennefer basically bringing the ability back in Witcher 3. But remember he kept the table that the boy was strapped to during the Trial and all the other implements for all those decades.

We never really learn why he did so but it's hard to imagine anything other than him hoping on some level to get the ability to make new witchers at some point. Which would mean recreating the Trial of the Grasses, which was not just torturous but to the vast majority of boys a death sentence. And this is without touching on everything else he put the boys of the old generation of witchers through, like the Trial of the Medallion.

Not saying people aren't allowed to love him - ffs I love Raistlin Majere and Lord Soth anyone who knows those characters know they're soooo much worse than Vesemir - I guess it just makes me a bit miffed that fandom is so willing to ignore the brutal and frankly abusive side of Vesemir's character because we never see it that clearly on display in the books or in the games so it gets buried in the kindly grandpa image we get in Witcher 3 and then his fate in that game.

It's one of the things I like about s2 though I wish they had dived more into the reaction the other witchers would have to that whole thing. Or you know, at all. Even the game gives more of a reaction to Vesemir having kept Sad Albert than netflix does to what Vesemir does there.

Oh my god yes. Let's talk about Vesemir.

But first...Raistlin Majere...*strokes beard* I haven't heard that name in a long time. (Dragonlance hive rise uuuup)

Ok but yes. On track again. Vesemir. (sorry this gets very long and passionate and ranty)

So first, I shouldn't have mentioned game Vesemir. I should be up front that I don't know anything about him except that I assume he didn't try to dose Ciri. So, unfortunately, I can't speak to that. And it probably explains how I feel about him. I only have book!Vesemir to compare Netflix!Vesemir to. And here is what we know about him from the books.

What we know:

Geralt tells a priestess that Vesemir is his father, or like one. Geralt very obviously loves him.

Geralt tells his mother that Vesemir gave him his name. He says it in a very defensive way, like he values Vesemir for having been there for him. (of course she corrects him, but that is neither here nor there)

Vesemir disciplines him when he is a child for trapping a honeybee.

Vesemir was his tutor.

Both Ciri and Geralt draw on Vesemir's wisdom when they are in tough situations and think fondly of him

In Season of Storms, he is spoken of as the moral center of witcherdom, opposing witchers killing humans and enacting consequences for those who do.

Vesemir's relationship with Ciri

He is protective of her. Triss commends them for not giving her any elixirs or grases or anything that could affect their hormones. But she also demands they stop giving her the natural herbs around the keep, which sound like some kind of supplements. Vesemir responds gratefully and pledges to do so. He very humbly and quickly says

"we will," promised Vesemir, "and thank you for the warning, child."

He is gentle with her. When Geralt loses his temper with Ciri in a very emotional moment, Vesemir says:

"too severe, Wolf," said Vesemir. "Much too severe..."

He is a patient tutor, drilling her on monster facts, and offering her advice that she calls on later in her life:

"That's why you're learning about ghouls now, Ciri. When you know about something, it stops being a nightmare. When you know how to fight something, it stops being so threatening."

So does that make him an uncomplicated or of morally pure character? No. We know that the trials killed most boys and were horrific. And he was a tutor there. So he was complicit to a certain degree.

Now that is where the most fascinating shit comes from with Vesemir. The mages created witchers, right? The mages created the trials. They ran them. Vesemir was their victim in that sense. He was a boy too.

But at what point does he stop becoming a victim and start being seen as complicit? Is there a certain age or level of consciousness where it stops being ok and he can be seen as an agent of the mages?

There is this whole blank spot in between the pogroms and the present. The questions that most fascinate me are:

Did Vesemir ever believe that what they were doing was wrong?

Did he ever resist or leave? If so, what brought him back?

How closely did he identify himself with his identity and with the mages.

Did he tell the boys what their risks were?

Did he walk them to the laboratories?

How dirty are his hands?

How does he feel about that now?

And now in the present, he is a normal, gentle person. Further, he isn't just a normal person, he is an active positive moral guide for all of witcherdom, and a kindly man that Ciri calls "Uncle Vesemir."

So how did that happen?

I am deeply, deeply just...meh on what Netflix has created for him. It is so anticlimactic for me. They have him (basically) murdering an innocent women in cold blood for money (Nightmare of the Wolf) and then (we hope)

turning a 180 after the seige on Kaer Morhen.

I didn't really buy that and it didn't take into account AT ALL the power structure of the mages vs the witchers. You can have complicated morally gray characters that are nuanced. They are both oppressed and complicit. And they made it like...well, witchers were making monsters that was slaughtering people. So basically that and Vesemir's actions were the instigating forces resulting in the attempted pogroms.

No, no one deserves to be killed for something someone else did (only one of the witchers was making the monsters) but in a world where they have people's limbs and heads chopped off on the spot for minor crimes, you can see how it very predictably led to that.

Instead of institutional racism and bigotry, their destruction was the result of legitimate complaints against them simply taken too far. That is so goddamn uninteresting and simplistic and it doesn't take into account the structure of oppression for witchers.

If they were out here murdering villagers with their monsters, an eye for an eye didn't feel to extreme for these people. Did they deserve a trial? Did people lump them together because of bigotry? Yes. But it played a relatively minor role.

So, the progroms are complicated and Vesemir is complicated and there is a lot of room there for imagining how his story went. But I'm just really think that, as great as Nightmare was as a movie, (it was fantastic just as a movie) as an origin story it was a disappointment. But AT LEAST they set him up for redemption. But then in TWN the man hadn't even changed!!

By the time of the current time, he is supposed to be kindly, gentle, and protective of Ciri!! There is no indication anywhere that he would be alright with anyone doing trials on her, quite the opposite.

I hope you don't regret asking me this question about now. XD I have so many feels. I'm so compelled by Vesemir's story because he is a very very favorite archetype of mine within the witcher.

Person is part of institution, perhaps they got there as a kid. They didn't choose with all the knowledge or in a critical way.

Person finds out institution is abusive or corrupt. They have to make a choice. Yen was like this with the Brotherhood. Cahir with the Nilfgaardian military.

And I feel like Vesemir is this for the witchers. He was brought into the system as a victim. At some point he became complicit, and we don't know to what degree and we don't know what that looked like. But it HAS to make his relationship with the wolves complicated.

I know the games complicate up his relationship with Lambert, and I think that is very fitting and very logical extension of this. It seems like Geralt just loves and forgives whatever role Vesemir had. But not every witcher could respond that way, right? Or should!

So it's fascinating! And complex! And then TWN just has him be an absolute piece of shit, accepting "consent" from a traumatized grieving child, betraying Geralt, BRINGING BACK THE TRIALS SINGLE HANDEDLY WHAT THE FUCK.

I mean you CAN do that? But why would you? He should be a loving figure with a very complicated past, not just a big old turd lololsob.

So now TWN Vesemir is on my shit list. Fuck with Ciri and fuck with Geralt and we're over. I've got him on page one in my burn book. I don't care how hot your ho ass was in NOTW. loloool

That's a fitting place to end this.

Dragonlance forever.

#asks #vesemir #the witcher #the witcher books #twn #twn critical #thinking about the witcher books yet again

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echo-bleu · 1 year

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Writing thoughts: NaNo 2022 edition

I don’t do these regularly anymore but this seems like a good time to take stock, with the start of NaNo and all (I know, I know, it’s the 5th already. Shhh.)

As usual, I’m not doing a proper NaNo, I’m just using it to make myself work on my various WIPs. This is a Witcher-only edition, because that’s what I’m writing at the moment (original WIPs have taken the backburner in the face of new hyperfixation).

left you behind just standing there: mid-s2 divergence. Five years post s2, after Geralt is injured, Ciri goes looking for the bard he left behind and finds him traumatized and disabled, raising a little half-elf autistic kid named Maja with a violet-eyed woman on the coast of Redania.

The first part (Ciri finding them) is currently 18k and will be maybe 25k. I want to write a second part of their reunion with Geralt set maybe a few months later, and then maybe a couple of short prequel fics about what happened to get them there.

what you hear is not silence aka mute!Jaskier AU: will be a series of fics mostly following canon, but where Jaskier never got his voice back after the djinn.

Currently 19k total. Instalments in progress (with current wordcount): - Initial part (tentatively titled I’ll sing silence) covering the first few weeks (4k) - Jaskier learning sign language in Oxenfurt (2.6k) - Something from Yennefer’s POV, stretching from the djinn to mid- or late-s2 - Post-Mountain where Jaskier becomes Ciri’s tutor in Cintra (3.6k) - Building the Sandpiper network, which might stretch to the end of the season (reunion with Geralt and Ciri) (6.8k) - Post s2 in Kaer Morhen, focused on forgiveness and healing (1.3k)

Untitled warlord AU: inspired by @inexplicifics‘s wonderful warlord AU, of course. Post s1, Ciri finds Jaskier instead of Geralt. While Geralt becomes a warlord, Jaskier build an underground smuggling network in Oxenfurt and tries to raise Ciri and his own daughter Maja on his own. When the witchers conquer Redania, Geralt asks for a meeting with the infamous Sandpiper, whose real identity has been kept very secret... (feat. mostly blind!Jaskier). This is in planning stages only, I’ve written maybe 2k of an earlier version.

for all the things that drum: post-show time travel AU where Jaskier goes back to save Renfri, and ends up having to stay, while a younger version of him meets Geralt in Posada. He watches over them and tries to ease their path, becomes Ciri’s tutor in Cintra, and falls in love with Yennefer (Geraskefer endgame, I think). It should be a series of fics as well, with some of them set before the jump back. One fic is finished and another in progress.

sing me awake: modern AU with nonbinary Jaskier, Geraskier and Yentriss. Jaskier is an indie musician with fibromyalgia & ADHD and works at a library, Geralt is an autistic social worker. Two fics are posted (a flower by any other name and your smile in mine) and two are in slow progress (one where Jaskier has a bad day and they talk about Geralt’s depression and queer things, and one where Geralt is in trouble). I don’t have any specific plans for this one but I’ll probably come back to it for short prompts.

every promise and lie: modern spy!AU retelling of the show events. This one is finished, I just need to post the third chapter. I might come back to the AU, but probably not.

breathing life (working title): should be a short fic or possibly a mixed comic/fic, where Jaskier becomes Life’s personification. I’m leaning more toward poetic prose here so I’m working hard on every word, but it won’t be long.

remember me I sing has a sequel in the works. I haven’t touched it in weeks, though, and I don’t like what I have much, so we’ll see.

Untitled 80s AU: an idea for a one-shot I came up with. I don’t know if I’ll ever finish it. It has a very bittersweet vibe, set at the heights of AIDS, with Jaskier having a late night radio show and a very lonely grieving Geralt calling in.

I have a couple of other barely started ideas, and one fic I can’t talk about that’s for the Winter Exchange. But that’s the gist of it so far. Why do I do this to myself.

(echo go back to writing instead of writing a post about your writing)

#echo's writing thoughts #left you behind just standing there #sing me awake #what you hear is not silence #mute jaskier au #for all the things that drum #the witcher

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sweetdulcets · 2 years

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Stay a Little Longer

Pairing: Netflix!Lambert x Y/N!Mage

Summary: While the Witcher’s fight Voleth Meir at Keir Morhen something unexpected happens, leaving everyone a bitter taste.

Prompt: Im not a lot of people’s favorite person

Warning: Blood, Major Character Death, Fighting, EMOTIONAL LAMBERT?????

A/n: So i was very nervous to post this, but with the a little support from @sumska-vjestica I finally got the courage to do it.

This is completely Netflix based, no details from the books or game

Comments, likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated

!Let me know what you think!

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

You’re a mage, a powerful one at that. You stayed at Aretuza with Triss and Yennefer, as you trained your chaos. As expected, they quickly became your best friends, together you could do everything, laughing, crying, gossiping, they were your sisters. Once your education was finished you got send of Temeria with Triss to join King Foltest’s council. You grew as a Mage and counselor, but after the battle at Sodden Hill, you changed. Once a cheerful young Mage, was now broken and bruised by the losses she had witnessed.

To cheer you up, Triss invited you to join her as she visited Keir Morhen after Geralt asked her to come help with Ciri’s magic. You’ve been helping with Ciri’s training, together with Geralt, Triss, Lambert, Coen and Vesimir. Ultimately finding a home after all the restless nights, was something you desperately longed for, and finally you found it

That’s where you first met Lambert. His sparkling eyes and contagious loud laugh were the first things you noticed when you stepped into the room. As his eyes found yours, you knew you found something unique, something that would make you feel joyful again.

Seeing Lambert in his stress-free inactive state was something Y/n never got tired of. His wild red hair spread on the pillow, his strong arms wrapped around you, the intoxicating smell he gave off. Many nights the two of you lay like this, adoring each other’s presence without speaking a word. Admiring his face from the side, you gave a happy sigh.

“What are you thinking about, love?” Lambert questioned with a raspy voice.

“I’m just very happy here,” you smiled. “I never believed I’d feel like this again, and now I found some of my favorite people.”

Lambert turned on his side, facing you. Cherishing your cheek with his thumb, he gave you one of his lovesick grins.

“You are incredible, you know that? You make me want to stay here, to build something with you, with my favorite person, it’s all I want now.” He whispered endearing.

“Really? Or are you just saying that because of that little show I put on an hour ago?” Y/n countered sassy.

“Although I must admit it was very entertaining, love. It’s not that, I just feel so warm inside all the time when I’m with you. Never felt like this before.” He murmured, his heavy accent almost making it hard to understand.

She beamed, kissing him softly. For hours after that you talked with him about the plans you two had for the future. Completely tumbling asleep, after a perfect night with kisses, plans and something more in the arms of the protective tall Witcher, gave you such a serene feeling.

It all seemed so peaceful, so perfect.

Then how the hell did you end up here?

Having Vesimir storm in Lambert’s room in the middle of the night, woke you up in an instant. Before you knew it you were dragged to the rooms of other Witcher’s, their throats slit. Since you had healing powers, you were asked to try and heal them, but it all came too late. Their bodies already icy, blood seeping through their pillows.

Not half an hour later, the whole building changed into your worst nightmare. Something had happened to Ciri, and all the remaining Witcher’s were now armed and transformed. You stood beside Lambert in the main hall, seeing a Green-eyed monster in the body of a girl you learned to love like a daughter.

Seeing Ciri possessed by Voleth Meir wasn’t something you ever thought would happen. You knew about Voleth Meir, the teachers at Aretuza told you the tale, but never once did you think it would come so close.

Trying to fight the monsters Ciri conjured out of a portal took all your attention. That was until you heard a scream coming from another hall. Looking at Lambert, he gave you a nod. Running towards the scream, you gave one last blast to the beast Lambert was fighting.

What you discovered was a young boy, his insides all over the floor with a big Snake-like being standing before him, made you realize you had to act fast. Reciting a spell, you thought would knock the beast out, didn’t do much but trigger its already terrifying reaction. All while trying to get to the beast, you heard Geralt’s voice, he was finally back. You sighed with relief, chanting another spell throwing the creature into a wall.

While the beast had difficulty standing up through the rubble, you had kneeled in front of the boy. Nevertheless, just like the other Witcher’s, you had come to late. His injuries fatal, a tear slipped past your cheek. Suddenly a rush of anger came through you like lighting, grabbing the sword the boy had laying next to him you swung it at the creature coming at you, almost decapitating it. However, the animal was too fast, and you merely left a scratch, only provoking it more and more

“Yenn! No! “You heard Geralt yell after a while. His voice far in the distance, not knowing what happened as you were still fighting the beast. Turning around with worry for Yennefer, something struck you.

It all happened so fast; you could barely comprehend what happened. Looking down, your gown was turning red as the monster retracted his claws from your abdomen. Placing your hand on the wound, the world came crashing down.

It felt like you lay on the ground for hours, red coating the floor around you, why was it getting colder? You tried to scream for Lambert, for anyone that could hear you, but it all came out like a whimper.

As Lambert stood watching Ciri, Yennifer and Geralt falling through the portal, he realized she wasn’t there, as did the others.

“Has anyone seen Y/n?” Vesimir questioned.

Lambert gazed at him, “She left my side half an hour ago, I haven’t seen her back since.”

“Alright everyone, let’s find Y/n! Quickly! Vesimir barked.

While everyone left the hall to search for her, the trio returned from the portal, looking around confused.

Suddenly a sound came, it was indescribable, booming like a pained creature. Not knowing what happened they made their way to the sound. Seeing different Witcher’s ran by, something had to be wrong, but how could it now that Voleth Meir was gone?

There she was, her once long, beautiful, soft hair now wet by the blood that had gone from her body. His legs gave away under him when he reached her, holding her body close to his own.

“Lambert?” She sighed.

“I’m here, dove. I’m here” He soothed her.

Y/n looked up at him “Is it over?”

“Yes, i- it’s over, you did so good.” Lambert faltered, tears falling from his eyes.

She tried to grab his cheek, but the vision was getting too blurry. Lamberts big hand grabbed her smaller one, holding it against his cheek as he leaned into her touch.

“My love don’t cry, it doesn’t hurt now I’m with you.” She whispered at him.

He let out a painful laugh, kissing the palm of your hand. “Please stay with me. We will heal you; it will be done fast.” He looked up, searching for someone around him. “VESIMIR! YENNIFER! TRISS!”

She let out a shush, “Lambert, they are not here. It’s okay, you’re okay, now I am too”

He eyed at her. Her beautiful skin losing its glow, magic was leaving her body with the blood he so desperately tried to stop. It didn’t work, she was dying in his arms, and he couldn’t do a thing.

“You know, what you said the other day. I’m not a lot of people’s favorite person, but I got to be yours. That’s all I’ve ever wanted, even if it wasn’t for long.” She whimpered, struggling to breathe between her words.

Lamberts eyes burnt with tears, “No! No! This is not over, don’t say your goodbye”

Hearing the footsteps of others near, he looked up. Her cold hand still in his, he squeezed it, hard.

“I- I wish I could stay a little longer” She grinned up at him.

When he understood her speak those words his head shot down, but her bright soul had left her body. Letting her hand fall he let out a painful roar, like a wounded beast. He brought her closer to his body as he wept over her body.

As everyone gathered around the scene, they looked with shock at what happened before their eyes.

“Y/n! No! Y/n!” Ciri shrieked as she tried to run towards the pair, Geralt stopped her. She buried her head in Geralt’s side, while they stood among the crowd.

Vesimir stepped towards Lambert, putting a hand on his shoulder. Lambert let out a painful cry, making Vesimir pulling his hand away.

“Leave us be,” he murmured bitterly, “I just want to stay a little longer.”

#lambert #lambert x reader #lambert x you #witcher fic #witcher #witcher fanfiction #Witcher angst #lambert witcher #geralt fanfic #yennifer #ciri #vesimir #angst #the witcher #lambert fic #lambert imagine

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tumbleweedtech · 2 years

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Book Coën

Apparently preferring to write Coën as not-a-wolf-witcher is racist. You know, the wolf witchers who raped sex workers. The wolf witchers who feed their dead to wolves. Yeah, uh. No. I can and will always prefer Book Coën. I am not against Yasen Atour, his sweet smile was adorable. The potential for disability rep is there, but ignored by Netflix. (See my previous post on his heterochromia.) But I'm seeing discussion that there's... "nothing" in the books about Coën.

Coën had to have been known to the wolves, because Geralt doesn't say "Who?" When told Coën is wintering with them, even though we're told this is the first time. Has a short, black beard, pox scars, sickly eyes. Same age as Lambert. He comes from the north, from Poviss. He defends Ciri's skill, that she's praticed for 6 months. He encourages her:

He's upset over not realizing Ciri can't train on her period, but tbh, I read this as him making fun of Triss here. As afterwards when Vesemir says that Ciri in a dress means no training, Coën looks at him "entirely devoid of respect". Damn straight, Coën. Most people can exercise on their period just fine. He does school his face when talking to Triss later, which is notable- it means his disrespectful glare at Vesemir was a pointed choice.

Coën is patient, playing slappy hands, which we've all pretty much enjoyed. Netflix uses "snaps", which, I'm not sure what that's supposed to be. Slappy hands is a game I grew up with too, and it does teach you to be quick with your hands. Something very useful for Ciri to learn. He also lets her win, which is cute. He carries her around piggyback.

Coën is the first witcher Triss ever heard laugh.

Note at this point: Triss had known Geralt long enough to be... jealous of him and Yennefer. She has known Vesemir for a long time, referred to him as grandfather. Sapko is pointing out, very deliberately, Coën being different than the other witchers. This is also the moment you find out about his prophesized death. And moving on:

Book Coën doesn't just train Ciri, but explains how and why. He tells her what he could do, what she could do, and why her hesitation puts her in danger. We saw none of this in Netflix, he just. Stood there. Tells her plaintively she's done. He does smile at a joke, later- I suppose this could lend a tiny nod to them being friendly enough to joke, but it's... no where near his dedication to helping train and raise her in the books. Ciri asked him who the best fencers in the world were, and he doesn't know. But he knows where they are. In Cemetaries. It's a flippant joke, but an important one. He's teaching her to fight to stay alive, not to fight for reknown. Fighting will take you one place. Something book Coën knows. (Woe, Brenna.) It's eminently practical of him, and he's later bored and yawning at Triss telling them all the continent's gossip. He's young as Lambert, and following the 'neutrality' of witchers, are really only thinking about following behind the war to clean up the monsters left behind by the war. To them? The world is always falling into ruin, because they're the ones left cleaning up the mess. In fact, Eskel asks Triss about the continent south of the Yaruga, asking if it was worth them daring to go that far south. Lambert declares he'll go "to the far south", to clear up these monsters post-war. Far south! That's only at the tip of the Nilfgaardian empire. There's something to be said that Geralt dies in Rivia, Coën dies in Brenna... all far south- implied farther than they usually ever go. And then- Ciri has a vision of him, dying in Brenna.

She loves Coën. Like an uncle, of sorts- these men were her family, they loved and trained and supported her. She was devastated by this vision. Her memories of Kaer Morhen were of her family, of love, and safety and care. Coën was part of this.

Coën volunteered in a war, in a land not his own, defending people not his own. Noble, kind, friendly, gentle. But yeah, sure. Netflix is the only character building information we have.

#Coën

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asweetprologue · 3 years

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Nili’s Benchmark Geraskier Fic Rec List

hey yall! I officially hit 750 followers (a few days ago, I blew past the benchmark without even realizing!), which is... insane. I truly can’t believe that so many people over the last year have enjoyed my presence in this fandom enough to continue to follow my work. you guys are so great and I love you all so much, so I decided to put together a gift for you!

this is a list of my favorite geraskier fics from the fandom, which I have been putting together over the last year or so. a few of these are big in the fandom, but a lot of them are smaller pieces that I feel deserve more attention! I have provided ao3 and tumblr links where I could find them, as well as ratings and summaries. Most of these are canon!verse because I’m not personally a big fan of modern au’s, but there will be a few of those scattered throughout as well. I’ve divided the fics into two sections: oneshots and multichapter. See the list below the cut!

Being in this fandom truly has gotten me through the pandemic in a big way and I have made so many good friends while here. thank you all for validating my weird obsession with these characters and enabling me in these trying times <3

Oneshots

all that was good, all that was fair (all that was me is gone) | M | 7517 | WARNING: Graphic Depictions Of Violence | @xdandelionxbloomx

Somewhere, deep in a forest, a man drags himself from his grave by sheer power of will. He lies gasping on the forest floor and does not know who or what he is. The world is wide and wonderful, though, and there is so much to see.

Or, Jaskier is so stubborn that he literally comes back from the dead.

Another fascinating addition to the mythology of the Witcher. Jaskier’s slow rediscovery of himself is so well done here. One I’ve come back to again and again.

As Fast As Love Can Go | T | 9628 | @bygodstillam

There are Faeries in the Wood.

That's what everyone said, at least, not that there was any solid proof. Jaskier had tried, more than once, to find some. Just a hint somewhere, of a real story, of real magic. But all anyone seemed to have was stories.

Jaskier was determined to find proof. He wasn't expecting to find a witcher in the process.

Fascinating fic with some really interesting worldbuilding, and a fresh new take on True Love’s Kiss. Also with some great art by @hehearse!

beautiful, he stirs up still things | T | 2575 | @alittlebitmaybe

“You’re not asking me to dance,” says Geralt.

Jaskier turns his palm up on his knee, offering it. “I think you’ll find I am.”

Just them dancing. This is a lovely sort of pre-relationship dynamic. So soft.

Dialogue Prompt | NR | 2932 | @reinvent-and-believe

Dialogue Prompt 48: “You make me want things I can’t have.” Wordless I-love-you 50: buying them a special treat when you go out shopping

Geralt gets Jaskier a gift, which prompts some confessions.

Even a small love | E | 22,272 | WARNING: Rape/Non-Con

“Well,” Jaskier replies distractedly. “Lots of things want to strangle you.”

“You don’t.”

It isn’t a particularly troublesome accusation, or even necessarily an accusation at all.

This is one I read early on in the fandom, and it really stuck with me. The dynamic between Jaskier and Geralt is perfect, and the misunderstandings between them feel so realistic. The non-con is not extreme, but do mind the warnings.

For the Space of a Heartbeat | T | 2021 | @drowningbydegrees

As it turns out, falling into bed with your very best friend who you are privately very much in love with isn't nearly so nerve wracking as waking up with them the morning after.

Just sweet, morning after discussions. I love to see them talking for once.

Greensleeves | T | 10,414 | @rebrandedbard

When Geralt crosses paths with Jaskier in the spring, the world is dressed in green. Quite literally. Everyone everywhere is wearing green, and it all comes down to a song Jaskier has written that, to his mortification, has become popular throughout the Continent. It's torment, being forced to preform the song over and over again and have his heart broken anew. But who is this Lady Greensleeves the people say Jaskier is so maddeningly, heartbrokenly in love with? At the baron's wedding party, Geralt is determined to find out.

This is one of my personal faves - there’s just something about Jaskier’s feelings being put on blast while Geralt remains totally oblivious that I think is so very them. And the resolution at the end is delightful.

I Don’t Wanna Fall (If It’s Not In Love) | E | 13,902 | @writinglizards

The first time it's out of desperation. Things get rapidly out of hand from there.

OR the building of a relationship through mutual wank sessions.

I love everything Ashley writes, but this one was the first fic I read by her and it still has a warm place in my heart. I also highly recommend It’s Been A While (makes me cry every time) and Tell Me Honestly

Like a Storm, Like a Flood | T | 1065 | @valdomarx

Jaskier is leaving for the winter, and Geralt can't bear the thought of not seeing him for months.

It was soooo hard to pick only one fic by George, but this one is so soft and sweet and yearning I just had to go with it. This is really just about Geralt finally hitting a breaking point and saying enough is enough.

one flesh | E | 10,763 | WARNING: MCD

“Well, then. I’m a ghost.” Jaskier spread his arms grandly. Geralt held his gaze for a moment, then dropped his head and laughed. Jaskier put his hands on his hips. “Do fill me in on what’s so funny.” It wasn’t funny. It was just so - ridiculous, the things Geralt’s fucked up brain would invent. This had to be the last nail in the sanity coffin, it just had to be.

Or: Jaskier is a ghost, and Geralt is a mess.

Jaskier dies and comes back as a ghost to haunt Geralt into taking care of himself. Geralt does not handle this gracefully. This fic is so sad and heartbreaking, but the ending is so sweet.

to render it transparent | E | 23,901

Geralt wakes up warm, peaceful, and utterly content, which is how he knows that something is severely wrong.

Sigh. This fic. This is a time travel fic - Geralt ends up in the future living with Jaskier on the coast, just after the mountain. It’s slow and beautiful and extremely bittersweet, all about how we choose to love people despite how much it can hurt us.

With All the Continent A Stage | M | 4745 | @greyduckgreygoose

Later, Geralt learned that the play was four hours long. Four hours long. It didn’t feel like it. Most of it passed by in a fever dream of ominous music, dance-fighting and dryads in gossamer leaves, swinging from hoops attached to the ceiling. Yennefer made an appearance, played by Priscilla in a glittering negligee. She sang a song to Geralt about putting him “Under Her Spell”, and they had a sensual dance number which was made a little strange by a sickened Jaskier (played by Jaskier) coughing loudly in the background.

(Jaskier invites Geralt to a musical production inspired by his own life.)

Jaskier basically writes Geralt a love letter in the form of a four hour long play. Geralt is an idiot about it.

Multi-Chapter Fics

A Lover’s Lament | M | 25,364 | @somedrunkpirate

So,” Jaskier begins, as casually as he can, “you are telling me, that in theory, if I were to be in love with someone — anyone — that person could well be in terrible danger?”

Of all terrible and ridiculous things that have threatened Geralt’s safety, Jaskier’d never thought that loving him might be what will get him killed.

I honestly can’t count the number of times I’ve read this fic. The monster is so interesting, and the mythos of it fits seamlessly into the world of the Witcher in my mind. Jaskier being so afraid that his feelings are going to put Geralt at risk, clearly unable to see that Geralt is going through the exact same thing. I think about the scene with them looking at each other almost daily.

A Pair of Gloves, the Scent of Roses | M | 24,134 | WARNING: Graphic Depictions of Violence

In the bustling days before the Midsummer festival, Geralt is sent into the countryside to deal with a monster - with Jaskier once again by his side. But the bard has not forgiven him, and while he's not hiding his contempt for the Witcher, he is recalcitrant about revealing his true motives for joining him. As the hunt turns into a desperate mission to save an innocent man and the monster is not what is seems to be, Geralt learns a few new things about his old friend and decides to finally attempt to mend the rift between them...

This is one of my favorite’s in the fandom - it feels so believable, the world is so rich and the oc’s are convincing and charming. Geralt and Jaskier feel so honest here, stumbling around each other but still drawn together. Beautiful beautiful beautiful

Bearing the will of the flower | NR | 11,449

The way Jaskier sees it, his hobby of following a witcher around was always pretty likely to get him killed.

The fact that it's happening now because the witcher in question doesn't love him, he thinks as he coughs up crumpled flowers, hardly makes a difference.

My favorite hanahaki fic in the fandom. I’m such a sucker for these, and these two idiots being so incapable of talking about their feelings really makes them prime candidates.

Food of Love | T | 22,488 | @wallatile-qvibbler

I brought a dead princess back to life through the power of song is the kind of thing that would have got an eyebrow raise even from the stone-faced Geralt of Rivia, so it's a good thing he and Geralt will probably never see each other again.

(or: the one where Jaskier channels magic through his songs, and it almost never goes as expected.)

This is a Jaskier and Renfri centric fic, which wasn’t something I knew I wanted until I read this. Jaskier is a bard which in this AU comes with magical powers, but it feels so well integrated into the universe that I wish it was just... how the Witcher is. Renfri is so good here, and even though Jaskier and Geralt barely even interact you can feel the tension and love between them. Cannot recommend highly enough.

friends and allies of the witcher | T | 10,312 | @theamazingbard

Yennefer crawls over to her newest cellmate. They’re curled up on their side. Breathing, but only just. She’s not sure what she’s hoping for when she turns them over. Still isn’t when she sees that it is indeed Jaskier.

“Shit."

Yennefer and Jaskier each suffer in more ways than one at the hands of Nilfgaard.

Yennefer and Jaskier get capture by Nilfgaard and tossed into a cell together. Exactly what I want out of season 2 honestly. Their interactions are gold.

I’d Be the Choiceless Hope | E | 45,188 | WARNING: Rape/Non-Con | @lesdemonium

As a baby, Jaskier was visited by a fae, who gifted Jaskier's mother with Jaskier's obedience. As Jaskier grew older, the "gift" became more of a curse.

You know I’m not gonna make a rec list without listing Zoe’s Ella Enchanted au. Need I say more?

Silver and Copper | M | 56,139 | WARNING: Graphic Depictions of Violence | @kaer-cuan

Geralt is just supposed to pass through the quiet Lettenhove area. He's not anticipating being begged by its people to help save their viscount from a curse that keeps him from daylight. Lord Jaskier, they call him, and he's likely dying.

As Geralt struggles to untangle the ugly web of history that has lead to the increasingly complicated curse, he finds himself spending more and more time with the strange young viscount and wondering just what he might have been before the curse, and who he might be after. But things are not always as they seem, and as the curse tightens its grip on Jaskier, Geralt is forced to face the fear of failing yet another person whose choices were stolen from them.

Or-

Jaskier is kept from becoming a bard. Geralt finds him anyway.

This is a fic that haunts me. It’s very scary in parts, and mind the tags - there are some very heavy themes here. But it’s beautiful and touching, and Jaskier feels very true to himself even though his origin is so different.

we could be married (and then we'd be happy) | E | 50,222 | @a-kind-of-merry-war

Jaskier reached into his pocket, fingers grasping around the little box. He pulled it out with what he hoped was a romantic flourish, flipping it open to reveal the simple gold band inside. “Geralt,” he said, confidently, cooly, like this wasn’t terrifying, “Will you marry me?”

Geralt and Jaskier fake marriage proposals to get free deserts and shit but it goes tits up when Vesemir catches them in the act. Not knowing how to fess up, they go along with it for a while, which is hell because they’re both pining like mad. As I said, I don’t love modern au’s, but it’s merry so of course this one had to end up on my list.

And that’s it! 20 fics for you, and hopefully you can all find one or two you haven’t read before. There are a lot of people and fics that I didn’t include in this list only because I was trying to not put a million down (which I could). I highly recommend anything by @wherethewordsare, @julek, @contemplativepancakes, @witcher-and-his-bard, and @inber, as well as those linked to fics above, and I’m sure there are others I forgot to mention. Yall have truly made being in this fandom worthwhile <3

#geraskier #geraskier fic recs #geralt of rivia #geralt #jaskier #witcher #fic recs #fic rec #I'm certain i missed a lot of good ones I've read over the years but I didn't want to risk making this super fucking long anyways #if you didn't see your name listed it isn't bc I don't adore you and your fics it's because i'm stupid <333

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cas-kingdom · 4 years

Text

Dad

A/N: Thank you to my anons for helping me come up with some perfectly Geralt-like explanations of parenthood. <3

Despite the summary, Geralt doesn't outright call Akela his daughter in a couple of these, but the point of the story is to show how he can call her that without actually saying it, if that makes sense. Still fluffy and (dangerously) sweet! Also a nice little Yennefer-Geralt scene here.

While writing number 4, I listened to 'Scared' by Jeremy Zucker.

Title: Dad

Summary: Three times Geralt called you his daughter, and the one time you called him ‘Dad’.

Words: 4607

“I knocked it off the cart.” You crossed your arms over your chest. “Why would I try to steal something I have money to pay for?”

The old man’s face turned sourer, if that was at all possible. “Oh, you have money?” He expectantly stretched his hand out, palm up as his fingers twitched. “Pay me, then!”

You rolled your eyes. “But I’m not buying them!”

“You tried to steal them!”

“I did not!”

“I saw you!”

“What you saw,” you spat out, leaning forward, face the picture of anger, “was me bumping against your cart and knocking a couple apples off—which I apologised for.”

A noise somewhere between frustration and rage spewed from the man’s mouth and he shot his arm forward like a snake striking to attack, grasping the front of your tunic and tugging you forward. “Listen here, girl—”

You clenched your fists and readied to bite back, but before you even had a chance, the man’s hands were ripped from you, and he was shoved away.

“Get your hands off her,” a stony voice ground out, voice brooking no argument. Geralt stood tall and menacing in front of the hunched old man, head tilted slightly to the side as he glared at him. He knew you were often capable of looking after yourself, proven clearly when you stepped beside him and a look of smugness appeared on your face, but he also knew that that would likely never change how much the anger flourished inside him when he saw someone lay their hands on his child in a way such as this.

The old man pointed a shaky finger at Geralt. “You stay out of this, Sir!”

You scoffed, and Geralt spared a glance down at you, briefly raising a brow. “What, exactly, am I supposed to be staying out of?”

“The little bitch tried to steal my produce!”

“I didn’t!”

“The little bitch,” Geralt said, holding out an arm to stop you from lunging, “is my daughter. And if you ever speak in that manner to her again, you won’t be able to speak another word.”

The man looked ready to respond with vigour, but at the last moment his eyes averted to the sword and the daggers at Geralt’s waist, and the cogs in his brain began to turn as his vision wandered up to the white hair and the amber eyes. He shut his mouth and stepped back, resigned.

“Forgive me,” he said. He appeared as though he was ready to run before he grabbed one of the apples you had knocked off his cart and pressed it into your hands, a forced and nervy smile showing on his lips. “Here, take this!”

Your eyes lit up and you smiled victoriously, taking a bite from it and turning to walk off as you called back a quick, “Thank you!”

Geralt sighed deeply and hummed, giving the man a final glare before following after you. “He was right. You are a little bitch,” he remarked.

You grinned and tossed the apple in the air, the sunlight glinting on the green fruit as though in triumph. You handed it to him and watched as he relented with a roll of his eyes and took a bite. “Waste not, want not!”

“What’s it like?”

Geralt lifted his head to look at Yennefer. She was lying on her side opposite the fire, her head resting in her hand, and she seemed contemplative. Curious, in a way, which was odd for her, though what could he really say about that? It wasn’t as though he’d known her long.

“I’m sorry?” he asked.

Yennefer jerked her head in the direction he’d been staring in for the majority of the past ten minutes, where you were fast asleep, curled under blankets, head beside Jaskier’s, who was wandering in the land of dreams himself.

He looked at you a moment longer before turning back to the mage. A hint of his own confusion danced in his eyes, but she spoke before he could open his mouth to question what it was that she meant.

“Parenthood,” she clarified, her voice softening. “What’s it like?”

Geralt rose an eyebrow, briefly floundering for words at the, quite frankly, surprising question. For a woman who was all invulnerability and strength, it was something he hadn’t expected to come from her. Not to mention he didn’t often think about what she’d asked.

He glanced away and shook his head. “More trouble than it’s worth,” he told her with a short breath of a laugh.

The corners of Yennefer’s lips drew upwards. She fidgeted with a stone on the forest floor. “I’m serious.”

His other eyebrow shot up. “So am I,” he assured her. “She may seem sweet, but underneath it all is the monster I’m most afraid to go up against.” He offered her a rare smile, which she returned, and for the first time in a while both mage and witcher felt peaceful. It was blissfully quiet—the only sound being Jaskier’s snores and incoherent mumbles—and it was dark, giving the two the serenity they needed after the trials of the previous days.

“It’s… hard,” he said seriously, despite the fact he was admitting that he, the infamous Geralt of Rivia, found something difficult. “You learn new things every day.”

“What kind of things?”

“Everything. About yourself, about her, about the world in general… you make decisions you probably would never have thought about before. You have responsibilities you wouldn’t have believed would ever be associated with you.” He let his eyes wander over to your sleeping form. “You don’t know what the hell you’re doing most of the time. You can feel so… so lost at it, right until you start to realise the only thing that’s keeping you grounded is the same thing that gave you the title of father. It…” He paused, leaning forward to poke a stick into the dying fire. “It gives you something to live for, and at the time I found Y/N, that was what I needed most.”

Yennefer’s lips curled into a smile as she slowly sat up, tucking her legs underneath her. “It sounds tiring,” she said, glancing down for a moment, and Geralt nodded.

“It is. But the rewards outweigh the difficulties. It’s something you’d give up everything to keep.” He looked across at her, noticing her loosened shoulders, and realised for the first time that he took his title of father for granted. Yennefer’s mutations had made her sterile, and though he was the same, he’d still somehow found a way to get past that, even though he’d never once pondered on the possibilities of it before he’d found you. Yennefer hadn’t been so lucky, and as he looked at her, he found that that reflected perfectly in the eyes he now viewed as… sad.

“You’ll feel that someday,” he said without thinking, and when she glanced up, he nodded in your direction. “When you have your own.”

Yennefer gazed at him, violet eyes piercing the amber of his. They stared at each other for a moment, no words passing their lips but every meaningful word being said nonetheless, until Jaskier snorted in his sleep and the both of them ripped their eyes away, returning to their stone and their stick.

“Thank you, Witcher,” Yennefer spoke up a moment later, and Geralt nodded once.

“You’re welcome, Mage.”

Geralt turned his head down to look at you. You were standing beside him, absently tugging on the neckline of the dress you’d bought from a market that very morning. You were clearly irritated, sighing in annoyance and muttering under your breath every so often.

When you noticed him looking, you shook your head, face every bit unhappy. “I don’t want to be here,” you ground out.

He rose an eyebrow. “Clearly.”

“Why are we here again?”

“Lord Lyon invited us.”

“And how do you—” You scratched at the back of your neck, the foreign material rubbing it raw—“know Lord Lyon?”

Geralt glanced down again and frowned, slapping your hands away from your red neck. “I saved his sister from a werewolf,” he said, instinctively tucking a few strands of hair that hadn’t made it into your plait behind your ear, “and he insisted my attendance at his feast tonight.”

You rose an eyebrow at that, finally relenting in your fiddling and letting your arms hang loosely. “Your attendance,” you picked out. “I could have stayed at the inn.” He ignored that, as you expected, and you sighed, shoulders slacking. “You never usually care for extra repayment,” you said. And it was true. He didn’t. He preferred to do his duty as a witcher and not stick around to see the aftermath of his hunt, except to accept his money. He didn’t care for physical shows of thanks. It was better that way, for you and for him. But he’d, for once, genuinely been concerned for the lord’s sister, so he’d accepted the invitation with the intention of only staying long enough to gain information on her wellbeing before leaving.

Geralt lifted his chin as he noticed a familiar man enrobed in silk and jewels walking towards you. He took in a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for the conversation ahead of undoubtedly mindless babble about his life and anything else the lord wished to ask him.

“And you never usually say no to free food,” he remarked quietly to you before forcing a tight smile at the open-armed, freely grinning man when he stopped in front of him.

“Geralt of Rivia!” he greeted, and you turned your head to meet him, only just refraining from raising your brows at the sight that met your eyes. You weren’t used to seeing royalty or regality of any sort, so you were never one to shy from your overly dramatic opinions of how these people dressed and carried themselves. You were quite certain all the clothes on your body wouldn’t amount to the price of a single ring on his finger, even though you’d had to beg Geralt for weeks to buy you the new leather boots on your feet now, just about hidden by your long dress.

Geralt had made an attempt to dress nicely, too. He’d washed and brushed his hair—and made several mock lunges (and one actual one) for you when you’d continued to tease him about it—and was wearing clothes that, though giving him an extremely regal look of his own, seemed unfamiliar to you. You much preferred him in his loose tunics and trousers, hair muddy and tangled in knots that he wouldn’t give a shit about until he needed to (which was barely ever, unless you were counting surprise and sudden invites to feasts such as this).

“Lord Lyon,” Geralt said with a small nod. “How is your sister?”

The lord reached forward to clap him on the shoulder, and this time, you did raise a brow, knowing your witcher’s dislike for such actions. Sure enough, Geralt’s smile grew tighter, and you could see the lines on his forehead become more pronounced. Perhaps in different circumstances—definitely in different circumstances—you would have laughed at his predicament, despite his clear discomfort, nevertheless this time you had to do with quickly turning your head to the side and stifling a grin.

“My sister fares well!” Lyon told him, not removing his hand. “She’s been asleep since you returned her safely to me, but the healers assure me she will make a full recovery. Thank you again for your unforgettable help, my friend!”

“Thank you for inviting me here tonight.”

Lyon stepped back, finally letting his hand drop to his side, and the corners of your lips twitched when Geralt subconsciously rolled his shoulder. “Well, this is the only other way I could think of repaying you when coin did not seem enough. A good meal!” It was at this moment, when you were shuffling from foot to foot in boredom, almost reverting back to your scratching and tugging, that Lyon noticed you, and he rose both eyebrows, glancing between you and Geralt. “And who might this be?”

“Y/N,” Geralt introduced, stopping you with a firm hand to your shoulder. You looked up at the lord, offering a smile. “I hope you don’t mind that I brought her.”

Lyon tilted his head slightly to the side in obvious interest, disregarding Geralt’s last sentence with a wave of his hand. “You mean she’s yours? Your daughter?”

You continued to stare at the man in front of you, unbothered. You were well used to being called his daughter—it was easier for him to agree when people asked if you were, and you sometimes wondered when exactly he’d given up on correcting people. If he’d ever corrected people in the first place.

“Your daughter?” Lyon repeated at Geralt’s lack of response.

“Yes.”

“I thought… well.” He looked a little sheepish, but Geralt was all too aware of what was coming. “I was always told that the trials witchers underwent made them—”

Geralt interrupted him before he could continue. “They did. I am.” He squeezed your shoulder. “She’s not mine by blood. But she is mine.”

Lyon stared a while, thinking to himself, before he abruptly smiled in acceptance. “Very good. Though I would never have taken you for the parent type.”

“My apologies,” Geralt said, inclining his head, “but you don’t know me well enough to make that assumption.”

A soft smile graced your lips and you glanced down to the ground, your heart swelling with love you could only ever feel for him.

“Quite right.” Lyon was clearly apologetic. He opened an arm out and motioned for the two of you to follow him. “Come, let us eat. You can tell us all exactly how you killed that werewolf!”

The hilariously dismayed look Geralt sent you after that made you snort.

How had it come to this?

“Geralt?” you whispered, daring to edge closer. He looked so pale, even in the short rays of moonlight radiating down. His skin was pallid, white hair muddied and hanging in knots around his face. His eyes were shut, his lips were set in a straight line, and even as you shook his shoulder, he did not move.

He did not move.

Geralt always moved. He had long since trained himself to wake at the first sound or touch that did or didn’t come from you. And yet now, even as you doubled your attempts and shook him so hard you were sure he’d be disorientated were he awake… he remained still. Still and silent. Completely dead to the world.

Dead.

Your heart soared, not for the first time, and you sat back on your haunches for a moment, staring with eyes as wide as the yellow moon looming over head. It was almost as though your unconscious mind was waiting for him to wake up. Willing him to wake up. Because you knew good and fucking well that without him, the point of remaining in the living was completely lost on you.

Reluctantly, your mind swiftly hurled you back. Back into damn memories of the swings of his sword and his shouts of exertion and pain as he fought with the monster that had suddenly stormed where you’d been resting. You should have stayed behind the rocks as he’d ordered… you shouldn’t have listened to the clash of metal hitting sturdy skin and bone… and you certainly shouldn’t have jumped up from behind the rock and screamed his name, leading him to whirl around in panic and giving the beast time to throw him against a large boulder. You could still remember the sickening crack of his head hitting the solid stone. That would have been the perfect time to scream his name, but you’d found that no words had been able to escape your clenched throat. You’d felt like you were being strangled, and your heart had stopped beating for the longest second as you’d watched with absolute terror…

He’d been telling you a story. You’d been lying beside him, exhausted eyes staring up at the starry sky as his voice lulled you to sleep. You couldn’t even remember what the story had been about, all you’d been focused on was the comfort his voice offered, and for that reason you had not registered at all when he’d abruptly stopped speaking. He’d waited a moment, eyes narrowed, before quietly standing to his feet, picking up his sword as he went. All his senses had been alert, and were he an animal, his ears would have been pricked up and forwards, listening for any noise that sounded at all abnormal.

He’d taken calculated steps forward, hands tight around his sword’s hilt, boots making no sound as he stepped over fallen leaves and twigs. And then he’d stopped, standing completely still, save for his eyes, which roved the area in front of him. He’d turned his head the slightest bit and harshly whispered your name, but it had not been enough to rouse you, and you’d stayed sleeping until less than three seconds later when what you now believed to have been a kikimora burst from the cover of the trees, screaming raucously and lunging towards Geralt. You’d bolted upright and he’d yelled at you to hide yourself as his sword came clashing down on the thing, not waiting to see if you’d done as was asked before moving to attempt to lead the monster away.

That had been only three minutes ago. One and a half minutes ago, he’d been thrown against the boulder. One minute ago, he’d managed to use the last of his strength to pierce the beast’s hide with a cloying crunch, mixing with both his and the kikimora’s shrieks of agony. You had looked on with trembling hands as it fell to the side, completely unmoving, and watched, waited, for Geralt to stand to his feet.

When he hadn’t, you’d taken one trembling step forward, hands cold and in fists at your sides, before running the rest of the way, not caring in the least that there was a possibility the monster might still be alive. All you’d cared about was the possibility that Geralt might not be.

You stared at him now, hopefully waiting for his eyelids to flicker, or a finger to twitch… but there was no movement.

You shook him again, harder now, but it didn’t work, and with a desperation you had never felt before, and your breathing quicker than ever, you hurried closer towards him, grabbing the sides of his face and shaking him, slapping him, hitting him… anything that had a chance of waking him.

“Geralt!” you shouted, voice cracking. You slapped him again, pausing only when you felt something wet and sticky coat your right hand. When you pulled it back, the sight of red met your eyes.

You stared at it for a moment, hands shuddering, before the red and the blackness of everything else melded into one as tears filled your eyes. A tightening of your throat and a short intake of breath was all that was heard before gut-wrenching sobs tore through your chest and you fell forward, clutching your bloody hand to your chest and squeezing your eyes shut as your grief poured from you in an onslaught of irrepressible tears.

“Please, please, wake—wake up!” you choked out, your forehead resting against his chest, hands gripping his ragged tunic. “Please! I can’t—I can’t—Please! Geralt! You can’t die! You’re a witcher! Witchers don’t die! Wake up!”

But he didn’t.

You harshly breathed in with as much effort as you could muster, and the smell of blood overpowered your senses… yet, at the same time, there was still that hint of forest and greenery which made him Geralt. The scent that was often the only thing that could make you fall asleep. The scent that you only had to catch for a moment before you immediately calmed. The scent that, even now, amidst your hiccups and sobs, caused the briefest feeling of serenity to swirl through you before it vanished as the new, metallic aroma abruptly tickled at your nose.

Another sob racked your body when the scent disappeared and you shook your head. “Daddy…” It came out as a mewling whine, so broken and utterly devastating that it would have made even the heartless cry along with you, but there was no other sound… no other noise in the darkness of the forest around you except the guttural cries wrenching from your throat.

It was the feeling of being alone which scared you the most. The feeling of… being without the one person who’d ever made an ounce of sense to you. The one person you loved more than life itself and who probably loved you even more than that.

You would rather die alongside him than live in a world you knew he no longer walked in.

A moment passed, and you sat there, hunched over with your head on his chest and your tired hands slowly slacking in their hold on his tunic. Your eyes were red and swollen, cheeks wet and tracking the mud and blood which had inadvertently transferred from his clothing to your face, and you were shaking so much that when a slight tremor rippled beneath you, you took no notice of it whatsoever.

At an exhausted yet almost incoherent groan, you blinked, opening your eyes despite it doing nothing against the blackness of you face pressed to him. You tried to silence your cries as much as you could, holding your breath, not quite willing to believe it but hoping more than you’d ever hoped before all the same.

“Fuck…”

And you bolted upright, your eyes blinking against the blurriness. You wiped at them, your heart thumping, blood pulsing through your distraught and exhausted body, and looked on with shock as Geralt—yes, Geralt!—slowly raised his arm and brought his hand to the back of his head. His eyes squeezed tightly shut as his brows furrowed in obvious pain.

“My fucking head,” he rasped out, and you let loose a noise of relief, suddenly and without warning bursting into tears once again. You launched forward, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face in his chest. He groaned and finally opened his eyes to peer down at the mop of hair in his line of vision.

He gulped down the sickly feeling in his gut as best he could, trying to make sense of his surroundings, and after a moment the memories returned to him, causing him to shut his eyes once more at the force of it. He returned his attention to you, lowering his hand to place it on the back of your head.

When your sobs grew, his frown deepened and he tried to lift his own head, swallowing back bile when the throbbing ache increased. He felt nauseatingly terrible and instead dropped his head back to the hard rock below him. “Hey…” he whispered. His voice was hoarse and he didn’t really trust the words coming from his mouth. “It’s alright.”

You shook your head. “N-no! It is-isn’t! I thought you were dead!”

He sighed unsteadily and moved his trembling fingers through your hair, trying his best to block out the discomfort (which was a nice word for agony). “I’m not dead,” he told you, and you finally lifted your head, showing him the extent of your hysteria. You looked as though you’d been bawling for years, and he shook his head softly, raising his other arm to wrap around you and pull you back towards him. His head was pounding, he knew he was bleeding in more places than one, but to be perfectly honest, he was simply happy to be alive, and to be holding his child in his arms, however much he would be covered in tears and snot by the time he finally gathered the strength to push himself up.

“I thought you were,” you croaked out, and he rubbed his thumb across your temple. You reached up, grasping his hand, and he narrowed his eyes, blinking at the sight of blood coating your own.

“Is th-that yours?” he asked, the words feeling funny on his tongue as he stumbled over them. You sniffed and glanced to where he had turned your hand over in his.

“No,” you said, “it’s yours.” At that open revelation and reminder, you lifted your eyes, haphazardly wiping your hair from your face and blinking against the tears that still didn’t seem to be stopping. “It’s from your head. Does it hurt?”

Geralt’s face contorted into one of pain yet again as he reached his hand to his head, bringing it back and intaking a sharp breath once he saw the blood. “Damn,” he grumbled. “Yes, it hurts. Like hell.”

You unconsciously bit at the inside of your cheeks and watched him as he lowered his arm and shut his eyes. Your heart continued to pound and every so often your ragged breaths were interrupted by a hiccup. “I’m sorry,” you muttered after a short while.

He blearily opened his eyes to look at you. “Why?”

“I called your name,” you told him, “and you turned around.”

He nodded faintly in remembrance. “Why?” he repeated.

“I don’t know.” You swallowed thickly, tears fogging your vision again. “I was stupid. I just… got so scared, and I didn’t—I didn’t want you to… to…”

At your rising distress, he pulled you down to his chest again, ensuring your ear was conveniently placed over the left side of his chest. His heart was slow—perhaps a little faster than normal yet still slow all the same—but in the silence of the forest he knew you would be able to hear it and let it soothe you.

It worked, and the two of you stayed there for a while. Geralt fixed his attention on his own breathing, trying to match yours as he felt your pulse through his hands. He wondered briefly how far the nearest village was and if he could risk asking for medical help. Perhaps he could reach Triss in Novigrad, and both he and you would have a safe place to recuperate.

His muddled mind was interrupted when he turned his head and noticed the kikimora for the first time, lying in a rotten clump on the ground a couple feet from him. He swallowed the knot in his throat and shut his eyes, remembering all too clearly what had happened and, more importantly, how close it had been to getting you. Unconsciously, his hands tightened around you, and he slowly breathed out, calming himself before he let his emotions reign over him. You didn’t need to see that.

“It’s alright,” he said softly, more to himself, but it assured your all the same.

“Next time, I want to fight with you. I don’t want to watch. I’ve been trained for these moments.”

“We’ll talk about it later.”

“I thought you were going to leave me.”

“Leave you?” He shook his head. “No, no, never…”

He shut his eyes. He knew that the day he left you would be the day the stars burned out and the world became shrouded in darkness. To leave you would be to leave his heart, and that was the one thing that, no matter how battered and bruised, he would hold onto and keep safe with every fibre of his being.

It was his duty, after all.

As your father.

Witcher Masterpost

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dapandapod · 3 years

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Two Pillows

Hello there! Here be a little story (2098 words only) of Geralt and his loneliness. And how he fights it and how he fights himself!

Here on Ao3 and thank you a billion @damatris for helping me reading through it and giving me a thumbs up! The ending has been glaring at me for weeks...

Please enjoy <3

Geralt has picked up a habit over the years he has been traveling. He isn’t a lonely man per say. He doesn’t feel the need to be close to others necessarily. He just sleeps better with two pillows. One he is propping under his head, it is a bit flat and worn out, just perfect. The other one is a little bigger. Just a little fluffier. No one asks about the two pillows, why should they? Who cares about a mutant's sleeping habits?

So when no one but the stars are watching, Geralt cradles it in his arms and holds it close. Curls around it and keeps it safe. It smells like him now. He doesn’t mind, but he prefers when there is someone else's smell on it sometimes. It happens that he hides a soap from Kaer Morhen inside it, when leaving the empty halls hurts more than usual. It smells of pine, if Lambert was the one doing the soap that year it sometimes smells like beer.

It’s not that he pretends that he is holding someone. It just is. It’s fine. Geralt sleeps in his bedroll with his pillows, and the aching loneliness inside is kept at bay. Sometimes he thinks of Renfri. Sometimes he thinks of Eskel. Sometimes he thinks of his mother, faceless after all these years.

Sometimes he thinks of arms returning the embrace, of a heart beating under his ear, of a hand stroking his hair as he falls asleep. But it’s the wind stroking his hair as he falls asleep. His pillow pressed against his chest. The only heartbeat is his.

It happens that Geralt travels with people. Sometimes it’s a merchant going the same direction, sometimes it’s a hunter or just a farmer bringing their goods to the market. Those shared nights are complicated. Instead of holding his pillow close, he watches the star travel across the sky. When morning comes the only rest he got is meditation. Which is fine, he can make due.

Then Posada introduces him to a certain bard, and he finds his nights changing. He doesn’t trust the bard. Doesn’t like him. He brought nothing to their travels, not even a bedroll. He managed to talk Geralt into letting him borrow the fluffy pillow, but failed at getting a place in the bedroll. The summer nights are still warm and Geralt is kind enough to make camp where he finds the grass thicker, the moss richer. He learned that first night that Jaskier sleeping poorly is a Jaskier that won’t shut up.

But that means Geralt only has one pillow. So he meditates the nights away, because truly it is fine. He can sleep without holding something, but he doesn’t trust the bard yet. That’s it. He listens to Jaskier snuffle in his sleep, his snores and hums. He is never quiet, that man, and Geralt finds it settles him. It becomes a backdrop, a constant he doesn’t even realize he needs until it leaves. Jaskier does that sometimes. Leaves.

They spend winters apart. Sometimes a whole year. Jaskier still borrows his pillow, after all this time. And that first night Geralt holds it, it smells like spices and warmth, achingly familiar. And if he holds it a little closer, digs his fingers into it a little harder, only the stars are there to see it.

What irrevocably changes things however is when Geralt falls asleep with Jaskier in his arms. They don’t mean to, but the summer festival had them both in a merry mood and deep in their cups. Jaskier can’t seem to find his own bed, and decides Geralt's bed is good enough. Some shuffling, wrestling and resignation later, Jaskier steals Geralt's fluffy pillow once more and wriggles into the circle of his arms.

It is late. So late it is bordering on early, and Jaskier falls asleep immediately. But Geralt’s mind is spinning. He has held people before, of course he has. But something settles in him, clicking into place. He is home. Geralt doesn’t even notice falling asleep. Doesn’t wake when the sun shines in through the window, doesn’t stirr when the smell of cooking breakfast drifts up towards them.

When he comes to, there is a heartbeat under his ear. There is a hand stroking his hair. Someone holding him close. They smell like spices and warmth. And Geralt knows he is well and truly fucked.

They don’t talk about it, why on earth would they talk about it? But when they part, the pillow is not enough anymore. The smell of Jaskier quickly fades from it, and he finds that he is saving it. Savouring it. So the pillow sits unused, waiting for Geralt to break or for Jaskier to come back.

Winter is hard. Too hard. Geralt breaks first, holding the pillow tight. When spring finally comes he is more exhausted than he has been for a long time. Lambert and Eskel share a worried glance, but Geralt doesn’t have time. It’s not that they usually decide a time and place. But this year Geralt wishes they had. He is not sure what he wants, and how to express it. He needs Jaskier close, even if it is only him borrowing the pillow. A something to make the path easier.

Their roads don't cross. Sleep eludes him, keeping his sanity hostage. Geralt breaks again, and finds himself in Oxenfurt. Jaskier is there, surprised to see him. On his arm is a beautiful blonde, Priscilla is her name. They performed together during the winter and made a contract with one of the local inns to stay until summer. It’s not fair.

Geralt leaves without his bard, returning to his sorceress. Lilac and gooseberry stick to his skin as they again soar, crash and burn together. On a mountaintop far above the world, it is for the last time. Jaskier is there, caught in their flames. It is not fair, Geralt knows it is not fair. But Jaskier brought his own pillow on this blasted hunt, and Yennefer pushes him towards an edge he has been toeing for years. He doesn’t even notice falling until it is too late. And he is pushing Jaskier out of the way, shoving him out of reach with all his might.

Time is strange. It passes him by, he is a pebble sitting in a stream watching the world pass by. And like water eats away stone, so time is wearing Geralt down. Geralt returns to Oxenfurt. Searching, looking, aching for his friend, his bard, his home. Priscilla meets him with an acid tongue. Jaskier isn’t there. He didn’t return at all, sending word that he is taking some time off and going to the coast.

He knows he is a bad friend. Knows he is a bad man, a bad witcher for risking human lives for his own stupid longing, his need to keep Jaskier around. But he can’t help it.

Geralt finds Jaskier at the edge of a cliff. The wind is raging, tearing at his hair and clothes. The waves crashing against shore with an anger he can only find in nature. They watch each other against the backdrop of a grey sky. Jaskiers face is impassive, strange, guarded when Geralt walks up to him, falling to his knees. He can’t keep going any more. There is nothing left of him but the aching sadness and loneliness. The absence of friendship, laughter, spices and warmth.

“I'm sorry.” He croaks out, words stolen by the wind. “I’m so sorry.”

Every beat of his heart is agony, his eyes burn and his chest aches.The ground is cool and slightly moist under his knees, sand and salt seeping through his trousers. He can’t look up at Jaskier. He watches his shoes, well worn and a little stained.

Then there are warm hands on both sides of his face, and Jaskier tilts his chin upwards. So many emotions are swimming behind Jaskiers eyes, his brow set and lips a firm line.It feels like he hasn’t aged a day.

Jaskier doesn’t say anything, just wrapping his arms around Geralt's shoulder and tugging him into a hug. Geralt's face is pressed against Jaskiers stomach, and he can smell the warmth, the spices, the fabric soft under his cheek.

Geralt didn’t plan ahead, didn’t think any further than finding Jaskier again. He should have, and they end up sharing Jaskiers room at a nearby inn. Geralt almost wants to offer him his pillow, selfishly collecting his scent for that inevitable parting. But he can’t, not when the inn already has enough. There is only one bed though, since Jaskier didn’t count on company. Geralt offers to take the floor, and Jaskier almost lets him.

But he scoots over, making room for Geralt on the bed. They don’t speak, just lay down facing each other. Jaskier has obviously been sleeping here for a while, and being surrounded by his scent makes something inside Geralt unclench. They watch each other, waiting. Waiting for what, he doesn’t know, but wait they do.

“Why?” Jaskier asks him finally. His voice is hushed, as if afraid to disturb the silence.

“I had to. I couldn’t pull you down with me. You-...” You are too precious to me. Geralt almost says it, it is on the tip of his tongue before he stops himself.

“I what Geralt? I can’t read your mind.”

“I don’t need you.” Geralt mumbles, and Jaskiers brows furrow in hurt. “I don’t need you, but I want you. So much. When you are around, I-..:” Geralt falters again, and Jaskier waits in silence.

“When you are around, I settle. I can’t describe it. I want you around, and that is selfish of me.”

“That sounds like need to me, Geralt, and it is not selfish. You are allowed to want things.”

“You are not a thing.”

“No, I’m not.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You said.”

They don’t talk anymore after that. They look at each other, and then Jaskier hands Geralt another pillow to hold and turns his back on him. He knows. Of course he would have noticed. Shame burns in Geralt, and he wants to hold Jaskier, but he isn’t sure it would be welcome. So he burrows deeper into the blanket, surrounded by Jaskiers smell, and holds the pillow tight.

When he wakes up, he is still holding the pillow. It is warm and sweaty, and Geralt soon finds out why. Jaskier lies pressed against his back, arm slung over his waist, forehead leaning against the back of Geralt's neck.

Geralt stays still, no matter how sweaty he is he doesn’t want to break this hold. It is a little unfair of him, because Jaskier likely did it in his sleep rather than by choice. He lies there and waits for the inevitable, for Jaskier to wake up and pull away. When Jaskier finally wakes up, it is at least an hour later. Geralt possibly slumbered a bit too, feeling too safe and comfortable to fight it. And now, Jaskiers heartbeat is picking up and he is getting tense. Before Jaskier can do anything, say anything, Geralt places his hand on Jaskiers.

“Stay?”

He regrets it the instance he opens his mouth, but somehow, for some reason, Jaskier stays.

“You are right.” Geralt confessess. “It’s a need. I need you. You are-” And he falters again, pulling in a shuddering breath. Jaskiers fingers flex under his, but he waits silently until Geralt is ready.

“Missing you is like missing home. You are home to me.”

Geralt wants to flee. Wants to run. Wants to take back his words and hide them again, shove them back into the deep darkness. But they are out. And they were heard.

“Geralt…” Jaskier is shuffling backwards, cold and empty space between them.

He knew it. He knew it would be too much, too soon. But he was ready for it, but it still hurt.

“Look at me.” Comes from behind Geralt, and he turns, shifting with the pillow still in his grip. Jaskier's eyes are gentle, but he can’t read them. Doesn’t know how to interpret them.

Jaskier grabs the pillow and pulls it out of his grip, eyes never leaving his. He tosses the pillow on the floor carelessly, and it’s strange, so strange.

“You are my home too.” Jaskier says quietly, placing his hand around Geralt's wrist, pulling him closer.

Oh.

Geralt breaks again and again and again, and he reaches out with both arms, pulling Jaskier to his chest, holding him close.

Finally holding him close.

#geraskier #the witcher #the witcher netflix #geralt of rivia #geralt sleeps with two pillows #geralt is a wee bit lonely #lonely geralt #the mountain scene #you know the one #soft #dapanda writes #julian alfred pankratz #jaskier the bard #witcher geralt

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innocentbi-stander · 4 years

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Can you do demigod jaskier? But this time he is the son of Hecate?

@localhalfvampire I need to preface this by saying you’re an absolute GENIUS

Demigod jaskier, but son of Hecate has so much untapped potential and I’m LIVING for it

A jaskier who has magic, who hides himself from detection by using his abilities to manipulate the Mist that shields demigods from discovery from the rest of the world (he shivers to think of what sorcerers like that bastard Stregobor would do if they realized that demigods, sources of pure godly power and ability were walking about the Continent, free to manipulate)

Obviously children of Hecate possess an innate talent for magic, each level of magical ability depending on the child, but nobody, not even Hecate herself, had been prepared for the unintentional powerhouse that is jaskier

And how fitting is it that the person who would care about ability levels the least ends up the most powerful child of Hecate to walk the Continent since Circe herself?

Jaskier was brought to camp at a young age, his noble father unwilling to deal with the baby of his one night stand with a goddess

He is raised amongst demigods and taught to defend himself and defend others from the monsters that plague the children of the gods

A sword is placed in his hand as soon as he is strong enough to grasp it, he learns to throw daggers with deadly accuracy, to shoot arrows at a target blindfolded

For all that jaskier is taught to be fierce, and witty, to speak gracefully with a silver tongue, there is nothing he picks up faster than magic

Magic to jaskier is like breathing, for he was born from the goddess of magic herself, it is woven into every piece of his being

Hecate is a tough parent, and she believes in challenging her children and their abilities, and so it is no wonder when jaskier leaves camp to explore the world on his own, though he visits often

And then jaskier meets geralt and the rest is history

He spends twenty years chasing after the witcher (and though twenty years is not really a blink in the eye of an immortal demigod such as jaskier, that still matters) , there’s many hunts and contracts, aftermaths of jaskier stitching up geralt and lying about where he learned to sew skin so neatly

There’s evenings spent by the campfire, playing his lute and trying to ignore the way the firelight dances in geralt’s amber eyes

There’s laughs in taverns after a bit too much to drink, there’s lute strings tucked into his bag and no word of where they came from (though he knows), apples for Roach amongst complaints of destroying her diet, doublets ruined by days in the wilderness, and geralt’s barely there smile when jaskier produces honey cakes ‘given’ to him by the local baker

There’s inns, and shared rooms, then shared beds, and shared baths closer than close, and then there’s the djinn, and yennefer, and growing apart bit by bit

Jaskier possesses some of the greatest magic in the world, and there’s nothing he can do except watch the love of his life pick someone else over and over again and pretend not to be slowly falling apart

And then the mountain

Jaskier is alone for a little bit after that, wandering aimlessly

He travels across the Continent, killing monsters that the rest of the world can’t even see, wiping yellow sulphur dust from his hands and wishing he was somewhere else

Jaskier visits camp and stays there for a while, but no matter how many times he comes back jaskier is a traveler at heart and never stays for long

Not far past the borders of camp, at a nearby village, jaskier learns that nilfgaard has been looking for him

He can’t bring himself to be even remotely surprised then when he’s ambushed on the path a day later

The first few parties of soldiers are easily dispatched with the use of his sword and daggers, but then at some point nilfgaard realizes that the ‘harmless’ bard has teeth and sends a small army

Jaskier really should have laid low and hid himself amongst the Mist ages ago, but he’s never been one for hiding (and frankly he’s a little bit insulted that nilfgaard seems to have thought him so easy to defeat and resolves to knock them down a few pegs)

Unbeknownst to the demigod/bard/whatever the hell else he is right now, there’s been a rather frantic witcher accompanied by a witch and a princess that have been searching for him for ages, following the trail of bloody groups of soldiers

Geralt hears of the army sent after his bard and reacts first with confusion on why an army is needed to take down one human man, and then feels blind panic. Rather hysterically, as he’s shoving his, yennefer, and ciri’s things into roach’s saddlebags, is the thought, he’s going to tear them apart

Which really makes no sense given that jaskier is fucking human, but geralt has always felt something off about him, something bigger, and regardless of that he’s seen jaskier’s more feral side and is comforted slightly by the thought that jaskier is hardly the type to go down without a wicked fight

Yennefer is less reassured by this information (your bard is going to get torn apart, not the other way around!) and ushers them off immediately

When they reach the clearing where whispers of nilfgaardian soldiers has lead them, there is an entire small army present, at at the other side in the most bizarre looking fashion, is jaskier

He stands alone, but he does not look afraid

Jaskier faces the army of nilfgaardian soldiers, his doublet a shade of midnight blue, sword in hand, and a fierce look in his eyes that for some reason sends chills down geralt’s spine

He assesses the army, silent and calculating, finding something that nobody else can see

The captain of the army shouts an order and the men charge forward, a smirk reaches jaskier’s lips

The army’s movement sparks geralt into action, what is he doing just fucking standing there, and he unsheathes his sword to somehow help his bard

But then there is a well manicured hand on his arm and a spell stopping his feet from moving farther, and geralt looks to yennefer to ask her what the hell she thinks she’s doing and pauses at the curious look in her eye

“Wait” she mumbles to him, brow furrowed, “Something isn’t right”

And geralt turns back to the battlefield and jaskier’s eyes are glowing

Jaskier sees the army charging forward and it takes everything in him not to laugh. They are fools, every single one of them

Jaskier whispers a quick prayer to the gods for luck (even though he doesn’t need it), and lets his magic explode

When the screams fade and there is nothing in the clearing but ash and blood drying in the dirt, jaskier wills his magic to return to his body

He scrubs at a little spot of blood that had managed to stain his sleeve, a new doublet at that, and considers maybe it is time to hide amongst the Mist, if not to save his poor beautiful clothing

The snap of a twig interrupts his musings and brings jaskier to alert, the hum of his magic singing through his veins, hands at the ready

Jaskier goes deadly still when across the clearing he spies two ghosts from his past, one of them with a rather unflattering look of shock across his face, and the other looking way too pleased with herself

When they both start to make their way to him, jaskier debates on whether he still has enough energy in him to shadow travel, anything to make a speedy getaway and the fuck away from this horrible confrontation

He raises his hands , willing the shadows to lengthen and warp, ignoring the persistence dizziness and figuring there’s no better way to find out than to try, only to be stopped by a sharp, “don’t even think about it bard”

His response is instant and without hesitation, “who the fuck made you the boss of me? If I want to get the hell away from here I’m very well going to, I don’t give fuck all what you’ve got to say about it”

Yennefer’s eyes narrowed and she snatched one of his hands, still shaking with overexertion. “I think your hands tell a different story, you’re exhausted.”

“Yes, well defeating armies will do that to anyone I suppose”, Jaskier reclaimed his hand and tried to ignore the fact that geralt had yet to do anything but stare

Purple eyes examined him carefully, “You never told me you had magic”

Jaskier laughed, a hollow sound even to his own ears, “I don’t really, not your kind. It’s a long story”

“Then you’ll have plenty of time to tell us when we get to Kaer Morhen”, at last, the White wolf had spoken and unsurprisingly jaskier liked absolutely none of what he had to say

He sputtered, and he was sure his cheeks were turning that infuriating shade of red they always assumed when he was particularly pissed off, “I’m not going with you anywhere!”

Geralt turned to the bard, focusing on him with an intensity that jaskier before the mountain would have killed to receive “Nilfgaard isn’t going to stop. They want Ciri. The armies will keep getting bigger and bigger, until whatever fucking powers you have aren’t enough”

Jaskier scoffed, crossing his arms across his chest “I can handle myself”

Something in Geralt’s eyes softened “I know you can. But you don’t, shouldn’t, have to. Come with us. Just for the winter. Then you can go wherever you want. Please”

There was a long moment between them, amber and blue staring into each other’s depths. Jaskier didn’t know what to think. It had been made clear on the mountain that the witcher didn’t give a damn about jaskier, and jaskier wasn’t big on wasting his time in places he wasn’t wanted. His heart wouldn’t be able to take it.

But geralt had never pleaded with him like that, never said please. There was a desperation in his eyes that jaskier had never seen before and without his permission he felt his heart melt a little. What was one winter?

“Fine.” jaskier spoke carefully, trying to ignore the small smile that formed on geralt’s face. “I’ll come for the winter. But after that I’m leaving and I’ll be out of your life for good”

Jaskier hadn’t forgiven Geralt. He was owed an apology, and a thousand other things. Yennefer was still a bitch, and he had no idea how geralt’s brothers and mentor would react to a demigod in their midst. But jaskier was lonely, and tired of being on his own, and as much as he hated it there was a part of him that had desperately missed his witcher, no matter how much he had hurt him.

It was just one winter, right?

He’d figure it out….. somehow

_______________

That went in an entirely different direction than I was originally intending, but the story just got away from me... I hope you enjoyed!

What do you think folks, worthy of a part 2?

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bamf-jaskier · 3 years

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I’m reading a non-canon short story written by Andrzej Sapkowski about Geralt and Yennefer’s wedding called Something Ends, Something Begins and my heart is literally so full. Even Asaps has to get tired of having so much angst so this short story is a literal fluff-fest and I love it so much.

So I thought I would share some of my favorite quotes from the story and if you all want to read it, here is the link.

"One day she'll break her neck," growled Yennefer, watching Ciri galloping in the splashing water, bent, firm in the stirrups. "One day your crazy daughter will break her neck."

Geralt turned his head and without a word looked into the sorceress's violet eyes.

"All right, then," smiled Yennefer, without averting her eyes. "Sorry, our daughter."

She hugged him again, pressing herself against him firmly, bit him in the arm again, kissed him, and bit him once more. Geralt touched her hair with his lips and carefully pulled her gown over her shoulders.

I am literally...I swear, we finally get domestic Yenralt and it isn’t even in the canon universe. I am literally going to fight someone. This is so damn cute and the way Yennefer is like “our daughter” my goddamn heart.

The list of the guests wasn't that long. The engaged couple compiled it together and charged Dandelion with sending the invitations. Soon it turned out that the troubadour lost the list before he could even read it. Because he was ashamed to confess, he used a cheap trick and invited whomever he could. Of course he knew Geralt and Yennefer well enough that he didn't miss anyone important, but it wouldn't have been him if he didn't enrich the list of the guests by an admirable number of quite random persons.

Why does it just make sense that Dandelion would fuck this up? It’s so in-character, putting him in charge of the guest list was the first mistake.

No one invited the golden dragon Villentretenmerth, because no one knew how to invite him and where to look for him. To the general astonishment the dragon turned up, of course incognito, in the form of the knight Borch Three Jackdaws. Of course, where Dandelion was present, one could not speak of any incognito, but even so few believed when the poet pointed at the curly-haired knight and claimed it was a dragon.

The image of Dandelion just pointing at this dude and yelling “He’s a dragon!” is fucking hilarious, especially when you consider most people don’t know dragons can shapeshift.

"Was it you who invited

Triss Merigold?

"No," the witcher shook his head and silently praised the fact that the mutation of his blood system didn't allow him to blush.

"Not me. I think it was Dandelion, even though all of them claim to have learned about the wedding from the magical crystals."

"I don't want Triss to be present on my wedding!"

"But why? She's your friend."

"Don't make a fool out of me, witcher! Everyone knows you slept with her!"

"That's not true."

Yennefer's violet eyes narrowed dangerously.

"It is true."

"Is not!"

"It is!"

"All right," he turned around angrily. "It is true. So?"

The sorceress was quiet for a moment, playing with the obsidian star on the black velvet ribbon around her neck.

"Nothing," she said at last. "I just wanted you to admit it. Never try to lie to me, Geralt. Ever."

I love the little bickering. Also, like, even though Triss and Yennefer are friends try valid of her to not want her at the wedding. She slept with Geralt!! Love how Geralt tries to deny it at first but gives up ten seconds later. Geralt really tried to pull the “just friends” card and Yennefer was having NONE of it.

The doppler accused Villentretenmerth of racism, chauvinism and lack of knowledge on the discussion's topic. Therefore, the insulted Villentretenmerth changed for a moment into his natural dragon form, destroying several pieces of furniture and causing a general panic. When the situation calmed down, a fierce quarrel began, in which humans and non-humans accused each other of lack of open-mindedness and racial tolerance.

A quite unexpected twist in the discussion came from the freckled Merle, the whore who didn't look like a whore. Merle announced that the whole debate was stupid and pointless and didn't concern true professionals, who don't dinstinguish between such things, which she was willing to prove on the spot (for an adequate reward, of course), even with the dragon Villentretenmerth in his natural form.

In the silence that fell abruptly in that instant they heard the female medium proclaim that she's willing to do the same, and for free. Villentretenmerth quickly changed the topic and began discussing safer topics, such as economics, politics, hunting, fishing and gambling.

Everything about this sequence is perfect, absolutely prime. Dragons and Dopplers fighting, Merle saying she would fuck a dragon in dragon form. This has EVERYTHING.

"I'll get going right after the feast," Ciri repeated.

"I want... I want to feel the wind in my face on the back of a galloping horse again. I want to see the stars on the horizon again, I want to whistle Dandelion's ballads at night. I'm longing for a fight, the dance with a sword, I'm longing for the risk, for the delight victory brings me. And I'm longing for solitude. Do you understand me?"

"Of course," Geralt smiled sadly. "Of course I understand you, Ciri. You're my daughter, you're a witcher. You'll do what you must. But I must tell you one thing. One thing. You can't run away forever, even though you'll always try."

"I know," she replied and cuddled herself closer to him. "I still have hope that one day... If I wait, if I'm patient, then I, too, perhaps will live such a beautiful day like this... Such a nice day... Even though..."

"What, Ciri?"

"I've never been pretty. And with that scar..."

"Ciri," he cut her off. "You're the most beautiful girl in the world. Right after Yen, of course."

"Oh, Geralt..."

"If you don't believe me, ask Dandelion."

"Oh, Geralt."

Ciri telling Geralt she wants to travel and move on is just heartbreaking but it makes sense. She has more adventures to go on. Geralt’s story is ending. Hers is beginning. Also Ciri feeling insecure about her appearance and Geralt being a good dad and comforting her? Amazing.

"I have unfinished business there," she hissed. "For Mistle. For my Mistle. Even though I avenged her, but for Mistle one death is not enough."

Bonhart, he thought. She killed him out of hatred. Oh, Ciri, Ciri. You're standing on the edge of an abyss, daughter. Not a thousand deaths would avenge your Mistle. Beware of hatred, Ciri, it consumes like cancer.

"Watch out for yourself," he whispered."I'd rather watch out for others," she smiled ominously. "It pays off more, it works better in the long run."

I will never see her again, he thought. If she leaves, I will never see her again.

"You will," she answered unexpectedly and smiled with a smile of a sorceress, not of a witcher. "You will, Geralt."

When Geralt asks what Ciri plans to do on her travels she literally says: I am going to avenge my dead girlfriend and murder some people. Which is not a healthy coping mechanism but damn if the idea of a gay revenge story doesn’t sound good to read.

The priestesses Iola and Eurneid also sobbed, when Yennefer refused to put on the white wedding dress they had made for her. Not even Nenneke's mediation helped. Yennefer cursed, threw around hexes and dishes, while repeating that she looks like a fucking virgin in white.

The enraged Nenneke began yelling, too, and told the sorceress that she behaved worse than three fucking virgins at once. Yennefer responded by conjuring a ball of lightning and demolishing the roof of the corner tower, which had its good side, too. The crash was so terrible that Caldemeyn's daughter got shock from it and her diarrhea stopped.

Once again, this scene has EVERYTHING. Yennefer getting so pissed it demolishes a tower. The shaking being so bad it stops diarrhea. Also, why does Asaps use diarrhea so often in his books? You know what, I don’t want to know.

Triss Merigold and the witcher Eskel from Kaer Morhen, were seen again, sneaking, arms linked, into the garden summerhouse.

Is that...IMPLIED TRISSKEL?? OKAY THEN. All the Trisskel friends out there: They hooked up at Geralt and Yennefer’s wedding I don’t make the rules.

"Yen..."

She looked breathtaking. Black wavy locks, curled up with a golden tiara, fell in a shining cascade over her shoulders and the high collar of a long white brocade dress with black-striped sleeves, pulled together on a bodice with countless drapes of lilac ribbons.

"Flowers, don't forget the flowers," warned Triss Merigold, all in dark blue, and handed a bouquet of white roses to the bride. "Oh, Yen, I'm so happy..."

"Triss, darling," sobbed Yennefer all of a sudden, upon which both sorceresses embraced and kissed the air around their ears and diamond earrings.

"Enough of those endearments," ordered Nenneke, smoothing the folds on her snow-white priestess dress. "We're going to the chapel. Iola, Eurneid, hold her dress, or she'll kill herself on the stairs.

Triss and Yennefer’s friendship is so sweet sometimes. Like, they would literally murder each other but they would also murder FOR each other too.

Yennefer approached Geralt and with a hand in a white lace glove she straightened the collar of his black cloak, embroidered with silver. Geralt offered her an arm.

"Geralt," she whispered into his ear. "I still can't believe it."

"Yen," he answered her in a whisper. "I love you."

"I know."

I don’t know is Asaps is purposefully referencing Star Wars here but either way this had me tearing up. Geralt and Yennefer deserve a happy ending and even if it’s not officially canon the author wrote it so this is canon in my head.

The wedding was splendid. Ladies and maidens cried collectively. Herwig was the master of ceremony, a former king, but still a king. Vesemir from Kaer Morhen and Nenneke stood in as parents of the betrothed couple, Triss Merigold and Eskel as witnesses.

Okay but why is Asaps sneaking in the Trisskel? I want more of it and this pairing definitely intrigues me. Also Vesemir and Nenneke as their parents? That’s so damn sweet. I swear to fuck this entire short story is too damn cute and I want more of it.

I cannot stress how much I love the energy Merle brings to the table. Saying she would straight up fuck a dragon. The power of it all.

#I am OBSESSED #like this has EVERYTHING #and I mean EVERYTHING #the witcher #yenralt #asaps #andrzej sapkowski #The Witcher books #myposts #yennefer #geralt #triss #eskel #trisskel #ciri #wedding

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hanzajesthanza · 3 years

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regis and angouleme mentorship-friendship-parenthood masterpost

(notes under cut)

canon interactions

their first interaction is that regis, in an attempt to stop geralt from accusing cahir of treachery, accuses angouleme of lying, who appears and tells him not to accuse her... and her typical nicknaming all adult men “uncle” to annoy them follows. [1]

also from when they first meet, angouleme rides regis’s mule, draakul. it is sort of suggested that she took the ride without permission (as normal equines cannot stand regis’ presence, so why would he give it up?), but on the malheur pass, angouleme rides draakul again. with character development and trust, it may be inferred that upon this second time, she took the ride with permission.

jana komárková (whose work might be counted as canon as the official illustrator of the czech editions) drew regis protecting angouleme when geralt and cahir fight (although her regis design is debatable, heh)

regis does not understand angouleme’s usage of swearing, but takes up using her funny sayings, such as “look at what the cat dragged in,” amongst others. (this can be seen as similar to a father emulating teenage slang he heard from his daughter - to be annoying, or genuinely because he thinks they are nifty)

angouleme approaches geralt and regis as they are speaking together in the palace rose gardens and bothers them with gossip. regis does not rebuke her or show signs of annoyance, and responds to her gossip with seriousness.

angouleme and regis take turns informing geralt about milva’s recent life events concerning her refusal of the baron’s marriage proposal

regis defends angouleme when he did not need to from fringilla when she antagonizes her [2] and probes her for information about geralt. regis interrupts fringilla and begins to argue with her, which presents considerable risk for him as she is a sorceress and demonstrates, even within the conversation, that she knows him to be a vampire. [3]

similarities which bond them

turmultous youth, cruelty, loss and regaining of ‘humanity' [4]

addictions which dull their pain and numb them to the loss of their friends [5]

similar relationships to alcohol [6]

similar mannerisms in conversation; talking about unrelated topics when unprompted [7], and requiring someone to remind them to return to the topic at hand to refocus

for some reason, falling to stakes as a common motif [8]

bridges to cross

regis has achieved peace and acceptance already, angouleme is still surrounded by chaos and violence

regis focuses on helping others; angouleme focuses on annoying others. but they each do both canonically [9]

what can they learn?

angouleme could learn peace, humanity, acceptance. this would be a step in the right direction for her to re-learn how to treat herself and others with kindness (though i think “learning respect” would be a little much, and something she doesn’t need). regis is a healer, so being alongside him would allow her to heal from pain and focus on regeneration, life, instead of the violent and dark past... she also could learn about not defining herself as what others might see her as, instead determining her identity for herself [10]

regis could learn the capstone of humanity, fulfilling his character arc - as humanity is defined by mortality, parent and child dynamics. vampires do not have anything like parental guidance, so this is a uniquely human concept. it seems to me that in a company set out to rescue a daughter, it would be grand if he should come to personally understand what the concept of a daughter is

general thematic contrasts

the sage and the student, the wise and the ignorant (but as it turns out, the teacher becomes the student...)

the past and the future (meet together in the present)

the dark and the light (regis is dark-haired, angouleme is light-haired, they also have night and day motifs)

why regis and angouleme, specifically?

considering regis’s dark past and struggles with addiction and violence, i think he would understand angouleme well. the stupidity of youth... but also the value of it, why it can’t be discarded or shamed...

additionally, regis is a vampire and not beholden to human worrying and fussing over a child, which angouleme would find to be suffocating (for example, geralt or milva would forbid her from participating in dangerous activities, but regis may just shrug and think it would be a good lesson for her. of course, this means that he must learn the human way to parent, which is to keep your child out of danger). this would make regis a good confidant for angouleme, who may not want to tell geralt or milva about dangerous activities for fear they would ground her or worry

angouleme is exceedingly straightforward and regis is extremely philosophical which results in comedic exchanges

“child befriends strange otherworldly being” is always a great dynamic.

[1] one of the prominent themes of interactions in the witcher is when a parent meets a child which they will later adopt, but they meet on the wrong foot and dislike each other in the beginning. you can see this with geralt and ciri as well as yennefer and ciri.

[2] i characterize fringilla’s behavior in this scene towards angouleme as antagonizing her because suggesting that she unwillingly became pregnant isn’t a simple joke when one considers that fringilla is much older than angouleme and also angouleme is a csa survivor. to clarify, i don’t think fringilla is a bad person for this, but she went “too far” in the joke, as this may demonstrate that she is not close enough to angouleme to understand when she is comfortable and when she is not

[3] speaking of his nightly activities, as well as calling him only by his last names, which he tells no one, suggesting that she read his whole name from his mind. regis also mentions earlier that in order to stay safe in toussaint, he must ‘stay away from sorcerers,’ and he is clearly doing the opposite here.

[4] regis was not born with humanity, he had to learn it painstakingly after centuries of his only thoughts being of blood and parties. angouleme had humanity but lost it as she became a bandit and has been living ferally, her only thoughts of survival and a next meal.

[5] regis lost all of his friends slowly when he became so unpleasant to be around and focused on his addiction. angouleme lost all of her friends slowly as they were killed off by the law or unspoken events

[6] regis states in baptism of fire that it did not matter who they drank from, as long as there was hemoglobin. angouleme states in lady of the lake that you can get drunk on cheap wines just as well as you can from expensive ones, and you puke the same as well...

[7] angouleme speaks about how mining operations work in the north case mines, much to geralt’s annoyance. regis speaks about logging operations in angren, much to everyone’s annoyance. regis speaks on about his backstory in baptism of fire (his past). angouleme speaks on about her plans for a brothel in lady of the lake (her future).

[8] regis was punctured by stakes when he was killed. both fulko artevelde and nightingale threatened to have angouleme gutted on a stake

[9] regis annoys geralt in baptism of fire multiple times, especially when he comes back for the fish soup scene. angouleme helps geralt when she makes her character debut and informs him about schirru’s plot.

[10] as it relates to regis saying that many would see him as a monster, a blood-drinking fiend... angouleme expects geralt and cahir to admonish her for her use of fisstech, and is aware that others see her as a no-good criminal. she could learn that all there is to identity is self-determination. also i definitely mean this manner of ‘determining your own identity’ in a transgender way thanks for reading

#f: i'm not your uncle dear child #c: regis #c: angouleme #in case anyone wants to have an explanation for everything going on inside my head at all times!

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waiting4inspiration · 3 years

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Darkness before Dawn XVII: Dawn

Summary: Geralt returns to you and admits that he does love you. But when the dawn comes after a long dark time for you, you realize that it seems you can’t have the man you love and your family’s kingdom at the same time.

Warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of murder, mentions of hauntings, itty bitty smut, strong language, magical themes, it’s a bit longer than what I normally write

Word Count: 3,805

Darkness before Dawn Masterlist II The Witcher Masterlist

No portal opened for Geralt. He waited and waited, but nothing happened. Eventually, he decided to figure out where the hell he is and make the journey back to Eronia and he didn’t care how long that would take. All he cares about is finding out if he managed to save you and if he broke the curse.

It will take almost a week on horseback to get back to Eronia, Geralt figures out. A week to find out if he failed or succeeded. But, he thought, if he hadn’t heard from Ida in some way it could only mean that something’s happening in the castle. They must be occupied with something else. Something bad most likely. Geralt only hopes that it doesn’t have to do with you.

There are only so many times where he has failed at a job. And though he knows that he can’t save everyone, there’s still a tinge of guilt and disappointment when that happens. And when it comes to someone whom he has grown close to, someone he’s grown fond of, maybe even come to have love.

Yes, he’ll admit it. He’s fallen in love with you.

His affections go deeper than they can ever go with Yennefer and he’ll admit that to Jaskier, Ida, your father. He’ll admit that to you. If he ever sees you again.

Perhaps it’s a good thing that he’s traveling back to you. It gives him time to think things through. There’s no doubt that things are complicated. You’re the heir to a throne and he’s a Witcher. There’s a good chance Dominic won’t approve of the match and, as Uza said, his sterile nature will prevent you from producing an heir and your father’s line will end. Not to mention what people will say.

Witchers aren’t normally seen in good light and no relationship can change that. People will talk bad about him - not that he’s used to it - and about you. That’s something he can’t bear to think of. It’s something you don’t deserve. Not after everything you’ve been through now.

He barely gets his thoughts together when the castle appears in the distance. A week has passed and he hasn’t thought of what he will, or should, do.

Getting into the city, Geralt sees that things are different than before he left. There seems to be an almost somber atmosphere. People walk around silently, some with sorrow on their faces as they filter out of the temple. Others walk in with flowers in their hands. Geralt knows these are the signs of death from someone in the royal family, especially when he notes the missing flag from the castle.

His mind goes what he hoped for a week won’t be true and it urges him to speed towards the castle.

People marvel at his appearance and he hears them saying “There goes the Witcher.” “No doubt he’s here to receive his payment.” Geralt doesn’t pay attention to their words. He just has to know if his suspicions are true or not.

The guards don’t even stop him from entering the castle. They just stare at him as he passes, pushing the door open so he can walk into the throne room. “It is what she wants and I am instructing you to see it carried out,” Dominic orders a man walking beside him as they cross the hall.

Upon seeing Geralt, Dominic stops in his tracks and turns to face the Witcher that walks towards him. The man takes this as his time to leave and he does so quickly with a quick bow of his head to the King.

“Geralt of Rivia. I did not think you would return.” Dominic almost sounds disappointed, something that confuses Geralt for a moment as he comes to stand in front of the King. “No doubt you have come to collect the coin I promised you.”

“No,” Geralt quickly says causing Dominic to frown. “I’ve come to see if (Y/n)- the Princess is alright.”

Dominic nods his head, his bottom jaw tensing as he turns his gaze across the room. “She’s in the gardens.” Those words make a wave of relief wash over Geralt and he breathes out a silent sigh as Dominic raises his hand to point him in the right direction. “You’re free to see her, if you wish,” he states, giving the Witcher a reassuring nod.

Geralt turns after nodding thanks in return. You’re alive and that’s all that he needed to know. Hearing that you’re out of your room only means that you’re doing well. Well enough to move around. When he sees you, he can’t stop the smile growing on his face.

You’re painting, standing by yourself, seemingly stronger than ever. And laughing at the scene in front of you. Jaskier is in a pose with his lute, pretending to serenade Charlotte and making jokes that are the cause of your laughter and your sister’s. You’re in a better state than he thought you would be.

Jaskier catches Geralt standing in the distance and drops his foot off the bench as he smiles brightly. “Geralt! It’s about time you returned!” Your head snaps over your shoulder at those words and you slowly place your paintbrush down. “I want to hear every detail about how you saved the Princess of Eronia from the claws of death.”

“Jaskier,” Charlotte hisses, grabbing his arm before he can walk towards Geralt and pulls him back. “You can interrogate him later. Give him time with (Y/n), hm?” she suggests, nodding to you as you slowly start to walk forward.

Seeing how invested you and Geralt are in each other, not really paying attention to anything else around you, Jaskier chuckles as he turns to walk away with Charlotte.

Geralt walks forward, intending on meeting you halfway. His stare never leaves your face and he can’t stop himself from standing close to you. So close, all he has to do is lean down to close the space between you two so he can kiss you. “You came back,” you whisper, making him smile.

“I needed to know if you were alright,” he says in a low voice, his hand reaching out to take yours resting at your side so he can entwine his fingers with yours.

You chuckle, drop your gaze to his hand and bite your lower lip. “I’m sorry we didn’t open a portal-”

“I don’t care,” he cuts you off, leaning down to press his forehead against yours. “You’re alive. That’s all that matters,” he whispers and your eyes flutter shut at the feeling of having him so close to you again.

“Kurst killed my mother and there was nothing I could do to stop him.” Geralt drops your hand and cups your face in his hands.

Geralt doesn’t feel sorrow for your mother’s death. Not after what she offered him to do. Your mother was a horrid person and she got what was coming to her, he thinks. “It wasn’t your fault.”

You nod lightly, bring your arms up to wrap around his neck. “I’m glad you came back,” you whisper before he leans forward to press his lips to yours.

Knowing that Jaskier and Charlotte might be watching, you use magic to grow a wall of shrubs to block their view and to give you and Geralt some privacy as he deepens the kiss. This is why you came back, why you decided not to stay in the spirit realm. You could never replicate this kiss, this moment. Nothing will ever compare to this, or the next time he’ll kiss you. Being in his arms, under his touch is worth more than a thousand lifetimes.

You hope it lasts. Knowing Witcher’s nature, they’ll move on to the next job as soon as their current one is done. You hope that Geralt doesn’t do this. You want him to stay in Eronia. With you. You will fight anyone who opposes it because you don’t think you’ll love as you love Geralt.

If he stays, not sure what he will do. Perhaps he can become your bodyguard. But what a scandal it would be for a Princess to have her lover as her bodyguard. You’re sure you can find a way around this mess once you are queen. Or perhaps, even before then. Surely you can talk to your father about it and hope he will listen to you.

But, Geralt has other ideas. It’s in your kiss that all that thinking he has done over the week that he finds his answer to what he wants to do. And he pulls back, keeps his forehead pressed against yours as he breathes out a deep sigh. “We need to talk.”

You were afraid he would say that. Still, you know that it has to be done. You’ve learned that almost everything can be solved if you just discuss it. Since you’ve gotten your strength back, you’ve continued learning how to be a Queen and how to rule a kingdom. You’ve learned a lot, but learning about politics will never be as fun as learning new magic spells and conjuring things from thin air.

“Come with me,” you whisper, leading him out of the gardens and back into the castle.

He follows as close behind you as he can while avoiding stares from others. He knows the path you’re leading him through goes to your chambers because he’s walked it many times before. And it will always feel great knowing that it’s just you and him, that no one can suddenly disturb you two when you close the door behind you.

He watches you as you walk towards him, your bottom lip tucked between your teeth and your gaze on your folded hands. He knows that you have a feeling about what he wants to talk about when you don’t look up at him after a while. “We knew this was going to happen-”

“Why does it?” you cut him off, lifting your gaze up to him as letting your hand unfold from each other. “Why can’t you stay?”

Geralt shakes his head, his jaw tensing as he turns his head to look away from you. “You know why.” He knows you’re not stupid. You know why he can’t stay.

You take a small step forward, reach out to turn his face back to you, make his gaze lock with yours as you rest your hand on his chest. “Tell me anyway,” you challenge, wondering if you can use your skills of persuasion and debate on him to try and get him to stay. But you also have a feeling that his stubbornness will prevail.

“If I stay, it could ruin your family’s name.”

That doesn’t sound like his words. It makes you frown and take a small step back, pulling away from him as you stare with a slightly open mouth. “What did my mother say to you?” you ask, feeling that she must have something to do with this. Of all people, you didn’t think that Geralt would care about reputation. Why else would he have kissed you in the first place if he wanted to protect what people think of you and your family? No, reputation was your mother’s thing and you know how her words could ensnare someone’s mind and make them doubt...everything. She must have gotten to Geralt.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does because you need to know that she was wrong. Whatever she said to you was wrong and it shouldn’t affect you because she’s dead and I’ve made sure that her body will be burnt to destroy her spirit because I know how powerful her words can be, Geralt,” you ramble, stepping farther and farther away from him as you shake your head in disbelief.

You thought that with your mother now dead, you wouldn’t have to worry about her affecting your life anymore. You can’t believe that this is happening. Everything seemed to be going well and now she’s trying to take the one thing you want so much away from you. You see her in your dreams, laughing and mocking you, saying that you can’t even get rid of her now that she is dead. She tells you that she will never leave you. And in fear, you’ve ordered that her body be burned instead of buried because you know that fire kills the spirit too. Even though your curse is lifted and you shouldn’t be able to see ghosts anymore, the fear will never leave you.

Geralt, seeing you retreating from him, takes a step forward and reaches out to take your hand. “Do you love me?” you ask, stepping out of his reach again as his head snaps you to you.

“I do love you,” he whispers, and his heart almost beats again within the long silence between slow beats. He’s had a week to think about, spend a few nights thinking about it and he doesn’t feel like he’s lying when he says it.

You take a step closer, drop the concerned look on your face and reach up to touch the side of his face. Your fingers touch the bottom of the scar on his temple as you gaze into his golden eyes. “I would fight for us because I love you too. I would fight for people to accept you more than I would fight for them to accept me, someone with magic prowess, being on the throne because I love you too.”

Word has gotten out about Charlotte’s parentage and how you are next in line for the throne of Eronia now but also that you have taken after your mage Aunt. Long story short, many Kings and queens and Sorcerers aren’t sure whether it is a good idea or not. They’re afraid you could become too powerful as a ruler and a mage.

Geralt smiles down at you, his head leaning into your touch as he steps closer to you to rest his hand on your hips. Your words won’t change his mind, but he won’t tell you that. It’s best to make you believe you have won this fight.

He touches his nose to yours, touches your lips with his lightly as his hands run up your sides. You breathe out a shaky sigh, your body trembling at his touch as his hands stop at the laces on the back of your dress. Then, as he pulls on laces, he presses his lips to yours in a kiss that makes your eyes fall shut.

You feel your dress become loose around your shoulders as he starts to walk backward towards your bed. At the foot of your bed, he turns around so your back faces the bed. His hands travel up your arms so he can take your face in his hands. His kiss grows deeper, your hands drop to start unbuckling his armor. It’s a lot to go through, but it’s not long before you get to the shirt he wears underneath the armor that now lies on the floor with his iron sword.

Geralt moves the hair away from your neck as he breaks the kiss, tilts his head to kiss along your jaw and then down your neck as you let your dress fall to the ground. Then, he runs his fingers down your naked arms making goosebumps appear and a sigh falls from your lips. He lowers you to the bed, hovering above you as his lips return to yours.

Your hands fall on his back, pull his shirt up out from being tucked in his pants. And when you touch his skin and trace his scars, he groans against your lips and settles between your legs when he nudges at them with his knee.

He breaks the kiss for a moment, only to sit up to pull his shirt over his head and toss it to the side. Instead of kissing your lips again, he drops his head in the bend of your neck and kisses down your body. You drop your head against the bed, stare up at the ceiling with your heart hammering in your chest as Geralt’s lips move down the valley between your breasts. “Geralt,” you mutter, your fingers weaving through his hair as you press your body against his.

You run your hands over his broad shoulders and down his back when he comes back up to kiss your neck, his hand grabbing the back of your thigh and making your leg bend next to him. Pushing his trousers pasted his hips, he moans against your skin. You feel his hardness poking against your thigh and it makes you shake in excitement.

“I’ll always love you,” Geralt whispers in your ear, making your heart swell and a smile grows on your face. As his lips return to yours, he rolls his hips against yours and slowly pushes his cock into you, making you moan and your eyes roll back in your head.

And with the sun starting to set outside, the golden light filtering into the room makes the moment between you and Geralt all the more special to you.

Geralt watches the sun dawn, his arm wrapped around your shoulder and your head on his shoulder. You’re fast asleep, your naked body pressing against his and the sheet covering your lower body as well as his. He’s glad that no one was looking for you last night because it would have ruined the moment. The moment that he won’t forget and he’s sure you won’t either. It was tender and passionate at the same time. And when you let the moment take you over, you let everything go and it turned out to be the best night he’s had in a long time.

Turning his head down to you, he takes in a deep breath and slowly leans down to gently kiss the top of your head. As you moan and shift in your spot, Geralt takes that chance to pull his arm out from under you and shift to the edge of the bed. He stares at his armor and clothes lying in a pile on the ground for a moment before looking back at you.

He wishes he didn’t have to do this, but it’s what he decided to do. He wishes he could stay with you, but he has other things to do. He can’t stay in Eronia.

Slowly and silently, he stands from the bed and starts to put his clothes back on. He leaves his armor off, not wanting to risk waking you up with the cluttering noise. Then he’ll have to explain everything and he can’t see you heartbroken.

Before he leaves your room with his armor in hand, he looks back at you one last time, glad to see that peaceful look on your face as you breathe shallow breaths. He’s glad he’ll have this image in his mind on his travels.

He doesn’t even think of collecting his fee from the King. He doesn’t care about that anymore. It’s best if he gets out of Eronia and put it behind him. Most of the castle is still asleep, so it surprises him to see Ida standing beside Roach when he comes to the stables. “I knew you’d be here,” she says, gently petting Roach’s neck as she smiles at Geralt. “Which is why I must ask; Are you sure you want to do this?”

“I’m sure,” he grumbles, walking past her and placing his armor on a post so he can get his saddle.

Ida turns around to face him, folds her hands in front of her and steps forward. “And you don’t want to say goodbye to her?” she asks, earning a hard glare from him and she raises her hands in defeat. “Alright, I won’t nag. I’m just saying that things could go a lot smoother if you were honest to her and told her the truth.” Geralt looks away from her as he places the saddle on Roach’s back and starts buckling and tightening the straps. “You know, there is a legend that Witchers only truly love one person in their life,” she mentions, taking a small step towards him when he freezes at her words. “You don’t want to lose something like that if it’s true, do you, Geralt?”

He sighs, drops his head for a moment before he looks at Ida. “No, I don’t,” he murmurs, pulling the last strap tight and then turning around to pick up his armor again.

Nodding her head, Ida glances down at her hand as she conjures a small, white flower which she hands to the Witcher. “I hope that this will help you find what you’re looking for,” she softly says, her words making Geralt’s eyes snap up from the flower to look at her in surprise. “And you do deserve this too.” She hands him a bulging pouch of coins. His payment.

Geralt takes both items even though he’s hesitant about the pouch. Still, you can’t buy food without money. “Look after her, Ida,” he grunts as he put the pouch and the flower in a satchel before taking the reins on Roach to lead her out.

He knows he didn’t have to tell her that. He knows that you’ll be in good hands without him.

A knock on the door makes your jolt awake with a skip in your heartbeat and before you can tell whoever it is to wait, the door swings open. You grip the sheets close to your body and quickly look down next to you where you expert Geralt to be. And your heart falls in your stomach when you don’t see him.

“Gods, I knew you had a fun night,” Charlotte playfully teases when she sees the state you’re in but you don’t pay attention to her words.

Your eyes start to search the room, only to find Geralt’s things gone along with him. It’s like he wasn’t even there. Your head drops and you bite your lower lip when you feel tears starting to surface. Charlotte notices your sadness. “What happened?” she softly whispers, sitting down next to you and places a hand on your covered knee.

Shaking your head, you look up at her with a forced smile on your face. “He left,” you say, your voice breaking as a sob breaks through your throat. Your hand shoots to your mouth as Charlotte pulls you in for a strong hug.

“And he didn’t say goodbye?” she asks, gently stroking your back as you lean against her shoulder, sobbing.

You don’t answer. You don’t say that he did or that he didn’t say goodbye because you guess that last night was his way of doing just that and you didn’t even realize it.

Permanent Tags- @cassindeansass @simsadventures @fandomfic-galore @belovedcherry @a-mess-of-fandoms @what-just-happened-bro @geekandbooknerd @lonewolf471 @rainbowkisses31 @moonie-flower101 @p8tn0lish @rinkashirikitateku @readsalot73 @louisolos @petlaufeyson @bangtan-serendipity @aworldwideapart @mythicalbullshit @ateliefloresdaprimavera @xbuckxnastyx @madithemagicalfangirl @ivarthebloodyking @shannygoatgruff @a--1--1--3 @nerdypinupcrystal @mblaqgi @tephi101 @coconutqueen21 @wonderlandfandomkingdom @babypink224221 @writers-whirlwind

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#geralt of rivia #witcher geralt #the witcher geralt #geralt fanfic #geralt x reader #Geralt #geralt imagine #geralt of rivia imagine #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt x princess reader #the witcher #the witcher x read #witcher fanfiction #Witcher #darkness before dawn

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jaskierswolf · 3 years

Text

Fuck Indeed 4/4

A Geraskier OnlyFans story

Part 1, 2, 3, - AO3

CW (for whole story): 18+ only, anal sex, masturbation, exhibition kink, sex work, rimming, sex toys, talks of blow jobs, Geralt bottoms but it’s mentioned they switch, biting (but no blood), Jaskier wearing lingerie and makeup.

Geralt was pretty sure he was dreaming. It felt like a dream. Dandelion, or Jaskier as he now knew him as, was sitting on his bed. It wasn’t particularly sexy, not yet anyway. Jaskier was wearing a baggy old hoody and shorts. He was wearing a pair of thick rimmed glasses and he looked… well he looked like he belonged there, which was really fucking with Geralt’s head. Didn’t he hate Dandelion? Weren’t they rivals?

Except that had all been in Geralt’s head.

Jaskier had genuinely been thrilled to meet him, and it was clear that the younger man found him attractive. The bitter feeling of hate in Geralt’s chest suddenly didn’t seem quite like hate anymore. If anything, it was the opposite, but that couldn’t be possible. They’d only met a handful of times in person. Geralt barely knew Jaskier outside of his videos, and tonight he would learn more about Dandelion in his videos too. They’d been through their boundaries and talked about different kinks they’d be willing to try, and occasionally the conversations had gotten off track. Jaskier would tell him about the songs he was working on for his next open mic night at the bar, Geralt would offer up a little fact about his cat, Roach, or they’d talk about Yennefer.

Geralt shook his head. He’d never expected to have a mutual friend with Jaskier, he supposed he should thank Yen really. She’d been too good to him.

“So… I’m fucking you, right?” Jaskier asked, pushing his glasses up his nose “Or did you want to save that for another video?”

Geralt rolled his eyes. “You can fuck me, and Jask?”

“Yes, darling?”

Geralt’s heart clenched at the pet name and he blushed. “Stop making this sound like you’re studying for a test,” he grumbled.

“Right, yes. Sorry. I’m just… I. I don’t know. Nervous?” Jaskier stammered “Bit different just masturbating… isn’t it?”

Geralt wasn’t sure. He hadn’t really thought about it, so he shrugged. “Did you want makeup for the video?”

Jaskier bit his lip, chewing on it before his tongue flicked out and swiped across his top lip. Geralt sighed. He hadn’t expected to be the calm one in this scenario but Jaskier had a lot of energy and a tendency to overthink things. So, Geralt sat next to him on the bed and, cupping the nape of Jaskier’s neck, pulled him into a soft kiss.

He’d expected their first kiss to be something more heated, panting and messy in the midst of fucking each other senseless, but this was something else entirely. Jaskier’s glasses pressed awkwardly into his cheek and he pulled back with a sheepish smile.

“Sorry,” Jaskier muttered and tucked them into Geralt’s bedside drawer. “So they won’t get in the shot,” he explained, and then pressed their lips together again.

It was gentle, almost tender. Jaskier practically melted against him, sighing happily into the kiss, and Geralt took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, still not the blazing fire he’d been expecting but still brought warmth to his chest, tingling across his skin.

When he pulled away, breathless and dazed, Jaskier was looking at him like he’d hung the moon and stars. He swallowed and brushed his thumb along Jaskier’s cheek. “Better?”

Jaskier nodded. “Much thanks, I’ll umm... go and get my makeup sorted. Can you set up the camera?”

Geralt nodded. It didn’t take long to set up but he was grateful for the distraction whilst Jaskier finished getting ready. They were saving his lingerie for a later shoot, and Geralt was keeping his leather straps for another day. It would be pretty vanilla, but they were getting to know each other.

They’d considered fucking before hand but Jaskier wanted it to be more genuine on film.

So the first time Geralt was going to have sex with Dandelion was in front of a camera. Not exactly the most romantic affair.

He scowled and pushed that thought from his mind. He didn’t need a romantic affair, they weren’t dating, they were barely friends… it was just sex, and they’d get paid for it.

Right?

Shit.

“Right, all done! Now where were we, darling?” Jaskier was leaning on the doorway. He’d changed into a sheer black shirt and booty shorts that were doing wonders for his arse. His eyeliner was rough and smudged, highlighting his eyes beautifully.

He was beautiful. God, he was so fucking beautiful. How had Geralt ever managed to convince himself that he hated Dandelion? It had been easier to think that at the time, but Geralt realised now that he’d been falling in love with Jaskier the whole time.

He nodded, a little dumbstruck by his epiphany. “I’ll get the camera,” he mumbled as Jaskier perched on the edge of his bed, looking far more comfortable now he was in costume. Geralt hit record and went to sit with him.

“Hello, darlings,” Jaskier greeted warming, as if he were about to read a bedtime story and not fuck Geralt. The thought made Geralt smirk, he would have laughed but he managed to restrain himself. He didn’t want to start their first joint video by laughing.

He had never laughed in a video before, unlike Jaskier who kept his light and breezy, an endless supply of charm that drove Geralt mad.

“Now, as you can see, I have company today. Wolf, sweetheart, say hello,” Jaskier cooed, his fingers lightly tracing along Geralt’s cheek. The touch tickled, barely there and gentle. Geralt wasn’t sure whether he’d realised he was doing it.

“Hi,” Geralt muttered, making Jaskier laugh. He rolled his eyes and ran his hand up Jaskier’s thigh.

“Don’t mind him, he’s just perpetually grumpy,” Jaskier sang to the camera, “luckily he’s easy on the eyes.”

“Dandelion,” Geralt growled.

“Patience, darling.”

Jaskier winked at him and then flashed a smile at the camera. They’d agreed that Geralt’s face would remain out of shot but Jaskier was quite happy to reveal his, making the blocking a little easier. Jaskier shifted on the bed and pushed Geralt back as he straddled him, his hands running up inside his shirt. “Now,” Jaskier purred “Let’s take this off shall we, it’s such a waste hiding that gorgeous body of yours.” Geralt’s shirt was pushed up but Jaskier got distracted kissing at his neck before they could remove the garment. Geralt closed his eyes, gripping Jaskier’s arse. It was firmer than he’d expected, more toned. Fuck, he’d known Jaskier was not weak but there was something about his energy that made you forget. He nipped at Geralt’s neck, a sharp pain that made Geralt moan softly. With Jaskier’s hips rolling against his cock it didn’t take him long to get hard.

Reluctantly he shoved Jaskier off his neck, shuffling so he could sit up. He yanked his shirt off and tugged at the hem of Jaskier’s, but the bastard swatted his hands away.

“Not yet,” Jaskier purred, crawling back off him and pulling Geralt up so he was kneeling up, displayed perfectly for the camera. “Isn’t he just gorgeous?”

Geralt felt his cheeks heat up at Jaskier’s praise. “Dandelion…” he groaned.

Jaskier pressed another kiss to his neck before moving behind him, hands tracing the lines of his abs, up to pinch his nipples. “So beautiful, and I’m the one that gets to touch you,” Jaskier purred in his ear, so low that Geralt wasn’t even sure whether the camera would pick it up.

He swallowed, arousal beginning to cloud his mind. There was something more about those words, private, just for them.

“Fuck.”

“All in due course, my love,” Jaskier said, brushing his hair from the back of his neck and pressing a kiss there. His hand reached down to cup Geralt’s cock in his pants. “Hard already, Wolf?”

“Hmm,”

“And all for me, lucky me,” Jaskier bit down on Geralt’s neck as he gripped Geralt’s erection. Geralt gasped, feeling Jaskier’s cock pressed against his arse. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the fire in his veins but it was no use. It had been bad enough imagining Dandelion in the room with him, but this was something else altogether.

“Get on with it,” he growled, but Jaskier seemed more than happy to take his time, biting bruises along his shoulders, pulling Geralt’s head back, fingers tangled in his hair. Every tug at his scalp sent shivers down his spine and he felt like putty in Jaskier’s capable hands.

“I could spend hours worshipping you, Wolf,” Jaskier said with a sigh “but not tonight. You’re getting impatient already.” Jaskier kissed Geralt’s neck just below his ear “Can I eat you out?”

“Fuck, yes…” Geralt breathed, heart pounding in his chest.

“On your back,” Jaskier hummed as he moved round to the front, blocking the view of the camera as Geralt shifted positions. It would probably be an awkward angle for the camera. Jaskier seemed to realise this at the same time and, placing a kiss to Geralt’s shoulder, moved to adjust the set up. He winked at the camera as he moved it “Wouldn’t want you to miss the view, darlings.”

Geralt took the opportunity to take his trousers off, leaving just his boxers. “Dandelion, you’re overdressed.”

“Nonsense, I’m exactly how I want to be,” Jaskier smirked and then crawled back onto the bed, pressing kisses up Geralt’s calves, on the inside of his knee and up his thighs, nipping gently as he reached the edge of Geralt’s underwear. He looked completely sinful, dark eyes gazing up at him in adoration, a flush on his cheeks. Geralt wanted to keep this moment forever, on the edge of something new, a fire burning bright between them.

“Fuck, you’re hot,” Geralt groaned.

“Oh, I know,” Jaskier nosed at his cock through his underwear. “Hmm… perhaps I should start with this?”

Geralt swallowed, unable to find the words to answer as visions of Jaskier’s mouth stretched out around his cock sprung to mind. It was almost irresistible, almost. It wasn’t in their plan for the video, and the promise of Jaskier’s tongue in his hole was too tempting, so he shook his head. “Not this time.”

Jaskier pouted up at him through his eyelashes. “Next time then,” he vowed, and pulled at Geralt’s underwear. Geralt grunted as he lifted his hips off the bed, his cock springing free finally, but that wasn’t what Jaskier was focused on. He wasted no time in spreading Geralt’s cheeks and pressing kisses around his rim, humming happily as if there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

“Fuck…” Geralt bit the inside of his cheek, Jaskier’s name almost escaping in the heat of the moment. “Dandelion,” he choked out instead.

Jaskier hummed again, licking gently, teasing… always fucking teasing. “Just… fuck,” Geralt moaned as Jaskier’s tongue delved deeper inside him. It had been years since someone had offered to do this for him. The pleasure was building with every kiss, every movement of Jaskier tongue. He was already a mess beneath him. “More.”

He heard Jaskier laugh, then the click of the lube bottle. “Alright, love.”

Even in his hazy state of arousal the nickname made his heart flutter a little faster. Jaskier had never used that towards the camera. That was just for Geralt. There were a lot of things that Jaskier had done today that were just for him. Geralt bucked his hips as Jaskier pressed a finger inside him, quicker than he’d been expected but it hadn’t hurt. “Shit…” he hissed.

“Good?” Jaskier hummed, looking up at Geralt with wide eyes, his lips were wet and there was spit on his chin. He looked like some kind of demon, tempting Geralt with his very existence. Geralt groaned and grabbed a fistful of Jaskier’s hair, pushing him back down. Jaskier moaned but quickly got back to work, using both his tongue and his fingers to open Geralt up. Geralt grunted under Jaskier’s touch until he couldn’t take it anymore. He needed more… he needed Jaskier’s cock.

“Dandelion,” he growled.

Jaskier pulled back. “Yes, love?”

“Just fuck me already.”

Jaskier smirked, instead of answering he licked a stripe up Geralt’s cock, kissing the tip. “If you’re sure?”

Geralt pulled Jaskier off, which only made him moan. The bastard clearly enjoyed being thrown around a bit. “Ah, yes, alright then.”

Jaskier licked his lips and flashed a seductive smile at the camera before pulling off his shorts, and Geralt’s mouth went dry. He wasn’t wearing any underwear…

“Fuck…”

Jaskier just winked. He dripped some more lube onto his palm before gripping his cock, stroking himself and watching Geralt with a smug smile. “Do you have any idea how fucking gorgeous you are?”

Geralt turned away from him, he knew, of course he did. He made porn videos for money… but knowing it and hearing the words from Jaskier, it was too much, and he wanted to keep hearing it. For as long as Jaskier wanted him.

“The most handsome, beautiful, pretty thing,” Jaskier cooed as he moved into position, pressing his cock against Geralt’s arse. He leant forward to capture Geralt’s lips in a kiss as he finally pushed inside. Geralt moaned into the kiss, fingers gripping onto Jaskier’s back. When Jaskier was fully seated inside him he stilled, letting Geralt adjust as they kissed, open mouthed messy breaths.

“Move,” Geralt gasped.

“Fuck,” Jaskier groaned and slowly pulled out, torturously, taking his sweet time.

Geralt groaned and buried his face in Jaskier shoulder, after a few leisurely thrusts, Geralt growled and bucked up against his lover. “I said move, Dandelion.”

Jaskier cursed again and bit at Geralt’s lip as the pace quickened. Every movement coursing pleasure through Geralt body until every inch of his skin felt alive, and he wasn’t sure which moans were his and which were Jaskier’s. They were one, moving with each other, Jaskier shifted slightly, his cock hitting Geralt’s prostate, shooting sparks through him.

“Shit,” Geralt gasped “Dand.. fuck.”

“I’ve got you, love,” Jaskier panted, and reached down to grip Geralt’s cock as he kept hitting that spot. It could have been seconds or hours later when Geralt’s vision blacked out and he came, a nameless guttural moan tearing from his throat. Jaskier keened and bit down on his shoulder before collapsing on top of him.

They were both sticky with sweat and Geralt’s cum but he couldn’t move, trapped beneath the surprising heavy weight of Jaskier, who was still moaning softly, shallow movements of his hips. “Fuck…”

Geralt hummed in agreement, hiding his face in Jaskier neck, but they couldn’t enjoy it for long. Jaskier always signed off his videos and today would not be the exception.

Jaskier let out a shaky breath as he rolled off Geralt, reaching for the camera. Geralt noted with pride that his hands were shaking. “Well, darlings… until next time.”

Geralt couldn’t see it but he knew Jaskier was winking at the camera. He always did. “Grab a cloth whilst you’re up.”

Jaskier groaned, falling backwards onto the bed at Geralt’s feet. “Not up, very much not up.”

“Grab a cloth… and I’ll kiss you,” Geralt bargained.

“I’ll kiss you, if you let me take you to dinner?” Jaskier sat up, blue eyes challenging him, brave, bold… but a glimmer of vulnerability.

Geralt smiled. “Deal.”

“And we get to do this again?” Jaskier added.

Geralt laughed and shook his head. “Too late, deals made.”

Jaskier’s looked horrified and crawled up to straddle his hips once more. “But… Geralt?”

Geralt grinned and pulled him down into kiss.

_____

Tag list: @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde @slythnerd @hailhailsatan @thecomfortofoldstorries @gelos @moonysourenza @frances-the-red @honeysuckletook @elliestormfound @sleepy-thief @artistsfuneral @kittynannygaming @stinastar @fontegagrilledcheese @baka-yu @anythinggoesfandoms @veritasrose @trickstermoose67 @nonegenderleftpain @kueble @justjess94 @kozkaboi @wherethewordsare @bastardofmothman @dapandapod @damatris @mayastormborn @jaskierslastbraincell @dazedandinked @jaskierstark @bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher

#the witcher #geraskier #geraskier smut #onlyfans au #geralt of rivia #jaskier pankratz #wolfie's witcher writing

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lesdemonium · 4 years

Text

romtober day 10: just friends

Rating: T Ship: Geraskier Word Count: 2305 Summary: Geralt can't seem to understand why everyone thinks he and Jaskier are a couple. 5+1 times Geralt and Jaskier were mistaken for being in love.

CW: mild & implied homophobia. If you want to avoid it entirely you can, just skip scene 2. Alderman.

read on ao3

1. Shopkeeper

“A flower, for your sweet?”

Geralt eyed the flower in the shopkeeper’s hand suspiciously. It was pretty; a simple pink carnation. Not what Geralt expected to find at an apothecary shop. He glanced at the shopkeeper holding it out to him, and though he expected to find something guarded in her expression, he found nothing. Just the kind smile of what he assumed was a sweet old woman. She held the flower out just a bit closer to Geralt, looking at him expectantly.

“Oh, I don’t--”

“It would look nice in his hair, don’t you think?” the woman continued. She gestured just past Geralt, and he turned to see Jaskier, fiddling with some glass vials in the corner.

“Geralt, are these big enough?” Jaskier asked when he noticed Geralt’s attention on him.

Jaskier seemed not to notice the shopkeeper’s attention, either, or the flower, for that matter. Geralt didn’t want to call attention to it, so he gave Jaskier a terse nod, then turned back to the shopkeeper.

“No, thank you,” Geralt said, instead shoving a potion toward her. “Just this, and the vial.”

She looked at him curiously, but obligingly put the flower away. When Jaskier came to stand by Geralt--frustratingly close, Geralt now realized--it was as if nothing had happened.

2. Alderman

The alderman’s eyes were dark the moment he set eyes on Geralt.

Geralt braced himself, more than well aware of what a look like that meant. Even if there was a monster in this town--and, according to the people who had pointed him in the direction of the tavern to find the alderman--this man was not going to be easy to deal with. He had already decided he didn’t like Witchers, and Geralt was more than prepared to deal with not only his bigotry, but with Jaskier’s likely reaction to his bigotry.

“Jaskier,” he said to his companion, and placed a hand on Jaskier’s shoulder. He turned Jaskier toward a table and nudged him into sitting, while Jaskier looked at Geralt curiously. “Stay here. I’ll talk to him alone.”

“But Geralt--”

“Stay here,” Geralt insisted, then walked away to avoid further argument.

As he turned back to the alderman, Geralt noticed his expression had darkened even further. Now he was eyeing Geralt as if Geralt was a threat to him. Well, people like this often thought Geralt was, so it wasn’t entirely surprising.

“I hear there’s a contract on a harpy,” Geralt said as he sat heavily on the seat opposite the man.

The alderman picked up his tankard of ale, and for a long moment, all he did was eye Geralt. “There is,” he said, then bent over to his side and produced a large bag of coins. “This enough for payment?”

Geralt lifted the bag. It was surprisingly full. Apparently, the problem was big enough that it was worth subjecting himself to paying a witcher a decent price. Geralt nodded his head, then handed the purse back.

“Just kill the monster, Witcher. We don’t care much for your kind around here.” And then, surprisingly, he nodded to Jaskier .

Geralt turned to look at his companion, who he assumed was causing some sort of trouble. Surely, he was flirting with the alderman’s wife or someone’s daughter. Instead, Geralt saw Jaskier just sitting there, thumbnail between his teeth, as he scratched some words onto the parchment before him. When Geralt looked at him, Jaskier looked back, and a smile stretched out behind his thumb.

“Our kind?” Geralt asked, turning back to the alderman with an eyebrow raised.

“Just keep your distance from each other, and we’ll be fine. And leave soon as you can.” The alderman’s arms crossed tightly over his chest and he glowered at Geralt.

Ah. Not the type of bigotry Geralt was prepared for. It made hot anger unfurl in his chest and he had half a mind to tell this man to go fuck himself. Geralt glanced back at Jaskier, now wondering at what had even led this man to come to that conclusion, and found it didn’t much matter.

He killed the harpy and took the man’s coin, but dumped the bloodied head on the floor of his home. Whatever Geralt had might be catching, after all. Wouldn’t want to risk the poor, delicate man.

3. Yennefer

��I see you two are still traveling together.”

Geralt glanced from Yennefer to Jaskier, who was over by Roach. He tried to make himself look busy, but Geralt could see that largely he was just weaving flowers into her mane. Geralt suppressed a smile; later, Jaskier would admonish Roach for eating the flowers as they fell, as if that hadn’t been his entire intention.

When Yennefer had shown up, Jaskier clammed up. They had traded a few barbs and Yennefer had come out as the clear winner, as she often did, and Jaskier had been sulking ever since. He was keeping his distance from both Geralt and Yennefer now, though Geralt caught the forlorn looks he tried to sneak every so often. Geralt, for his part, had moved his conversation with Yennefer far away from Jaskier to give him the space he clearly wanted; anything to help improve the foul mood he would likely deal with for the remainder of the day.

Geralt looked back to Yennefer and grunted. He didn’t like the look in her eye as she made the comment, or the fact that they had already finished their business, and yet she was still here, making conversation. Neither the look nor her continued presence was a comforting sign. Geralt had to be careful about how he answered her questions.

Yennefer watched him a moment longer, then sighed.

“Are you ever going to tell me ?” she asked, her face twisting into disappointment. “Or are you both just going to pretend that we don’t all know ?”

“Know what?” Geralt asked. His eyebrows furrowed.

Yennefer waved her hand impatiently. “You know! About you both. About how you feel for the other--” She cut herself off, then peered at Geralt a little closer, inspecting his face. “You don’t know?” Then her eyes moved to Jaskier, who was now locked in an intense discussion with Roach about something or other. “Neither one of you know, do you?”

“Know what ?” Geralt repeated, a bit impatient now.

“Oh, no. This is far better than I ever would have imagined.” Yennefer laughed and shook her head. “Please tell me when you figure it out. I will portal here immediately if only to see the look on your face.”

She refused to explain further, and even made her way back to the camp just to press further into Jaskier’s poor mood. It seemed to only fill Yennefer with glee, as she was laughing when she left them.

“What the hell was that about?” Jaskier asked.

Geralt wished he could answer that question.

4. Innkeeper

“Just the one room?” The innkeeper asked, sounding bored.

“Is there only one room available?” Geralt asked, and just barely held back the sigh.

They weren’t low on coin this time. Maybe Jaskier would like to have his own room for the night. He was too far away to ask; already he was trying to flirt his way into a free meal in exchange for his performance from the innkeeper’s wife. The patrons had perked up a bit when they saw Jaskier’s lute case; it was likely he’d make a fair bit tonight as well. They could splurge.

“No,” the innkeeper answered. “You have your choice of rooms. Haven’t had much travelers lately. Did you and your partner have someone else with you?”

The innkeeper nodded his head toward Jaskier, and Geralt’s eyes followed. Jaskier was getting his way, if the charming look on his face was anything to go by. His eyelids fluttered, and Geralt found himself momentarily distracted by the way his dark eyelashes fluttered against his pale cheeks.

It took Geralt a moment to realize the meaning the innkeeper imbued the word “partner” with. Another person thought Jaskier was his lover. It wasn’t an unpleasant thought. A confusing one, to be sure, as Geralt was sure they had done nothing to make anyone think so. Though, he had been wrong many, many times before about this very thing.

They had the money for another room. The room was available. He and Jaskier could sleep separately and have a little personal space from each other for once, and still have enough coin to get them a hot meal and through to the next town.

“No, no one else,” Geralt said, turning back to the innkeeper. “One room.”

5. Ciri

“You know you don’t have to be careful around me, right?” Ciri asked.

Geralt looked up from the rabbit he was skinning, only to be met with Ciri’s keen eyes. What, exactly, it was that she saw that Geralt hadn’t yet, he wasn’t sure. He raised an eyebrow at her, then went back to his task.

“Be careful how?” he asked. “Are you saying you want more work?”

Ciri groaned. “No, the training and getting the firewood and learning how to hunt and everything is enough, thank you,” she answered, sounding just a little petulant. As if she hadn’t been teasing Geralt earlier about not being able to keep up because he was an old man. Maybe he would throw a few extra drills at her. “I mean about you and Jaskier.”

Geralt’s hand slowed, just slightly, as he considered this. “What about me and Jaskier?” he asked.

He lifted his head to look at Jaskier, who was off bathing in a nearby stream after complaining for hours about how he had gotten covered in mud when a carriage rolled past. Even his face had been splattered, while Ciri and Geralt had managed to avoid the worst of it by sheer luck. Geralt had told him that if he would stop complaining and go bathe , then Geralt would catch three rabbits tonight. Jaskier had agreed, and didn’t even complain about how frigid the water would be. Not yet, anyway. Geralt was sure that was coming.

“That you’re… you know.” Geralt glanced at her in time to see her gesture… something. It mostly looked like she was pushing something invisible in Jaskier’s direction. “That you… love him.”

Geralt stared at her, baffled, for a long moment. “Ciri, we’re not-- Jaskier and I aren’t--”

“I’m just saying,” Ciri interrupted, “that you two don’t have to hide anything from me. If you love each other, that’s okay.”

She stood, abruptly, and set about setting up her bedroll. She didn’t need to do it now, usually she waited until after they had eaten, but Geralt understood the message there. Cirilla did not want to discuss this further. That was fine by Geralt, who also did not want to discuss this further.

That didn’t mean he was done thinking about it, though. He glanced back at Jaskier, who was now cupping water and pouring it over his head, then running his fingers through the strands. Geralt didn’t have to imagine how soft his hair would be now--he knew, he had washed Jaskier’s hair before. The only reason he wasn’t doing it now was because Jaskier had annoyed him enough that Geralt refused to help him remove the mud. He found, in a distant sort of way, that he regretted that decision.

Jaskier came back just as Geralt was pulling the last rabbit off the fire. He took the meat from Geralt with a grateful smile, then settled close beside Geralt to eat.

“That water was freezing. I’m surprised I still have all my limbs attached. We might need a larger fire, Geralt, because if I do not warm my legs soon , I fear I will lose them.”

+1 Priestess

“Would you like to leap the flames?”

The Priestess’s eyes were wide and Geralt, for once, found it to be welcoming, rather than with curiosity or fear. She looked young, but it was impossible to truly tell how old she was. The priestess motioned toward both Geralt and Jaskier.

“It’s a Belleteyn tradition. You leap over the bonfire for luck or fertility. If you leap as a couple, it is supposed to grant you luck in your relationship. New lovers often partake in this tradition, and guests are welcome as well.” She smiled, then, and gestured broadly to the bonfire. “Care to see if luck smiles down on you?”

“Oh, we’re not--” Jaskier started, but stopped when Geralt touched his wrist. Lightly, so lightly, just enough to get his attention. Jaskier turned to look at him, his expression curious.

“Do you want to?” Geralt asked. His heart pounded in his chest and as soon as the words left his lips, his mouth felt dry.

Jaskier considered him a moment, and all along Geralt felt the dread rise in him like bile to his throat. But then Jaskier’s face split into a wide grin and he took Geralt’s hand, their fingers slotting together as if that was where they meant to be all along.

They stood together and lined up behind another couple and just as they were about to take their own turn, Jaskier pulled Geralt to the side, out of the line, and motioned for the man behind them to go.

“Geralt you--you mean this, right? Exactly as the priestess said?” Jaskier asked, and though their hands stayed pressed together, doubt crept into his voice.

“Exactly as the priestess said,” Geralt agreed, nodding. “We’ve been mistaken for a couple enough times. They might as well be right for once.”

“We’ve been--what? What do you mean?” Jaskier asked.

Instead of answering, Geralt pulled them back in front of the bonfire, and prepped to run.

“Geralt, if you do not explain--”

“You better get ready to run, Jaskier.”

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #geraskier fanfic #geraskier fanfiction #my writing #romtober

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jaskiersbrokenlute · 3 years

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Sending a headcanon your way, per request. ( Came up with it on the fly and don't think it's a great idea. but eh) Maybe something along the lines of Jaskier on the hunt for the perfect new set of strings for his lute, and in the process he finds the perfect gift for Ciri. The only problem is getting it to her without her knowing it's from him because he's always doting on her and has been reprimanded a couple times (on the side where Ciri can't hear) for spending so much on her. Therefore, he has to make it look like one of the witchers or Yen or Triss or someone (preferably another witcher) left it for her, but has to not be found out? Could be crack, or angst, or fluff. Uh, anyways, I'll see myself out.

Thank you so much!!! I went a liiitttle bit off track but I hope you like it!

(Also this was written on my phone so it's not edited and I can't structure it sorry)

Usually in towns like these the availability of needed supplies is somewhat slim, to put it nicely, but like a blessing from melitile above, their music stall is absolutely plentiful.

The strings of Jaskier's lute have been worn thin, literally, turning the deep disonant chords into high peels of off key warbling. Performances have been minimal and confined to the very few song that he could sing acapella and still keep his performances at the expected quality.

So, needless to say finding such a stall was a breath of relief out of his lungs.

And then a quick breath back in when he spotted it. A gorgeous wooden flute painted a clean white, bright blues and purples dusting the surface in curving lines and flower petals.

The perfect starting instrument for learning music, ear training, and backing to other instruments. A lute for example.

He's been thinking for a while now, that Ciri could use an outlet and a hobby both. She's got the witchers for training, fighting, history and all the knowledge that Vesemir has tucked away in the Library. Yennefer and Triss provide teaching and guidance in magic, power and what she needs to learn of the world that the men in her life cant.

And Jaskier... has his uses.

But this, this would be perfect, he hasn't taught music in years and it would give him the chance to bond with Ciri in the way everyone else in her life has, something they can do together. In time, if she wants, he'll move her onto bigger instruments.

There will be no making a bard out of her, she has her sights on greater things, but music is so much more than that, can bring her a way to escape the hectic life they have without violence or chaos.

It's settled, he has to get it.

"You have a lovely shop, my lady." He flashes a charming smile at the woman standing in the stall, her gloved hands pausing where they were adjusting the pegs of a lyre.

"Thank you. Can I get you anything?"

"I'm in need of a full set of lute strings and this gorgeous flute here,"

Removing her gloves she picks the flute carefully off the shelf and places it in a leather case made specifically it and wanders back into the stall for his strings.

"I can re-string your instrument for you, for a price." She offers.

"No thank you, I've been re-stringing lutes since I was fresh out of Oxenfurt."

"Suit yourself," She shrugs, placing the strings on the counter.

"Seventy gold,"

"Seventy?" He face sours.

He has the money, and can hypothetically spend it without too much regret later on, but Geralt and Yen will not see this purchase in the same light as him.

"Fourty for the flute, Thirty for the strings,"

Hands twisting the fabric of his doublet he weighs the pros and cons.

Geralt and Yennefer will eventually forgive him, they always do, but seventy gold coins is a lot of money and this isn't the first time he's splurged on something for Ciri.

"Anyway we could that down a bit?" He tries to bargin. The look of her crossed arms isn't giving him a lot of confidence that this will work but it's worth a shot.

"I could take some of the strings out."

"Deal." He says easily. He wants this gift for Ciri and the fruit of its labour far more than he wants the perfect sound. Either way, not all of his strings are urgently in need of replacing anyhow.

Flute in hand, three new strings and coin purse fifty gold lighter, he begins on the walk back to their inn.

The worry of Geralt and Yennefers reactions returns. One more offense and he may be cut of from shopping alone altogether and there are some purchases at don't need to be broadcasted. He could say he found it, bought the strings and just happened by a flute in some shrubbery, a burst of luck!

No, no they'd never believe that.

Maybe he could give it to Ciri secretly, practice when they're alone and keep it completely to themselves?

Also a no go.

He'll just have to play it by ear, roll with the punches. When have his instincts ever steered him wrong?

___

"What's this?" Ciri pulls a leather bag out of her pack, the four of them packing up to continuen travelling.

Jaskier's stomach tightens just enough for him tp pause but not enough for anyone to notice.

"What's what?" Yennefer dusts her hands off and bends down next to Ciri, taking the object out of her hand.

"Where did you get this?" Her eyebrows wrinkle, examining the flute in her hand.

"It was in my bag, give it here." Snatching it back from Yennefer the tip of the flute goes straight into the young girls mouth, emitting a loud, shrill whistle that makes Jaskier startle and drop his ink pot.

Yennefer pulls the offending thing out of Ciri's mouth, earning a dramatic pout.

"Jaskier?"

"Yes?" He turns, putting on a false indifference.

"You wouldn't happen to know anything about this would you?" She asks, already knowing the answer to her question but giving Jaskier the benefit of the doubt.

"What? The- that thing? No I've never seen that before." He shrugged, flapping around as they usually did when he was nervous and didn't know where to put them, refusing to meet Yennefer's eyes as he lied through his teeth.

"Is that so?"

"Yeah. It's weird, really." His voice raises in pitch as he keeps talking. Geralt and Ciri have both turned to look at him, he can feel the sweat forming on his brow.

"Maybe destiny... put it there." Cringing as he spoke, Geralt huffed out a small laugh and Yennefer rolled her eyes.

"Destiny better hope it didn't spend too much of our coin or it'll have to answer Yen." Geralt replied, going back packing away his swords.

"Destiny couldn't have paid more than, say, fifty. If I had to guess."

Yennefer groaned as she stood up and pressed the flute into Jaskier's hands, a fond look in her eyes.

"Destiny will be lucky if I don't buy him a leash."

I wrote this very quickly and did not re-read it, i'm living dangerously.

Send me a witcher headcanon for me to write!!!

#jaskier #the witcher #geraskier #geraskifer #geralt #geralt of rivia #geralt x jaskier #geralt x yennefer #geralt x yennefer x jaskier #jaskier x yennefer #ciri #cirilla fiona elen riannon #fanfiction #geraskier fanfiction #my writing #witcher cirilla #prompt fill #oh no lute is writing

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