#jaskier's smile is magic

[thedemonofcat]

One of my favorite observations from this season of The Witcher is how Jaskier can adapt to different personas depending on the people he interacts with, all while remaining true to his core self.

When it comes to Yennefer, Jaskier becomes the confidant she can fully trust. Despite their limited interactions throughout the season, it is evident that Yennefer confides in him. In one particular scene from season two, Yennefer opens up to Jaskier about losing her magic. Instead of mocking her, Jaskier responds with nothing but empathy and compassion. This proves to Yennefer that she can trust him, even though they may bicker like siblings at times.

For Ciri, Jaskier takes on the role of the fun uncle. Their relationship is built on playful banter, mocking others like Geralt and Yennefer and enjoying card games together. But amid the playfulness, there are also tender moments where Jaskier encourages Ciri and sings her lullabies before bedtime. Their dynamic revolves around bringing smiles to each other's faces.

With Geralt, Jaskier is not only his best friend but also provides a dose of comic relief. Whenever they are together, Jaskier adopts a more goofy and lighthearted persona. This deliberate choice is because Jaskier knows that Geralt tends to brood and he wants to show him that there is still goodness in the world. Even when it seems that their friendship is questioned, Jaskier's quick offense is followed by a joke, indicating his unwavering loyalty and desire to lighten the mood.

In essence, Jaskier's ability to adapt his role based on the needs of the people around him showcases his emotional intelligence and understanding of their unique personalities. Yet, beneath these varying personas, he remains the same loyal and caring friend to each of them.

#the witcher netflix #joey batey #geralt of rivia #the witcher #jaskier the witcher #henry cavill #the witcher jaskier #geralt x jaskier #geraskier #jaskier #gerskier #cirilla fiona elen riannon #freya allan #headcanon #yennefer of vengerberg #anya cholatra #anya chalotra #the witcher season 3 #witcher yennefer #the witcher season three

[renren-006]

Hi there! I’m an angst addict so I was thinking like a story about the sorcerer ball that Geralt and Yennefer attend in season 3 but with the Reader who is like dating Geralt has to stay behind with Jaskier and Ciri has some jealousy because of Geralt and Yen’s history and starts thinking that our white wolf would prefer her instead….if that makes sense 😭

Preference? | Geralt x Fem Reader

word count: 909

a/n: omg yesss!! i had fun writing this so enjoyyyyy!!

The ball was that evening, and after the long boat ride and fight you, Geralt, and Ciri had to go through, you were looking forward to it. What you didn't expect was Geralt sidelining you with Jaskir and Ciri. You stood there dumbfounded and Yennifer and Geralt explained that it would make more sense to have more people watch Ciri. You watched him leave that night in an elegant outfit and a single kiss before he went towards the castle.

“He loves you, you know that right Y/N” Jaskir said to you. 

“How Jask. Look at Yennefer. I'll never look like her, and I'll never be as powerful…” you told him. You and Jaskir were best friends before Geralt even entered the picture. He glanced over at you, seeing you go through heartbreak after heartbreak. This time, both of you wanted this to be the last. He hugged you as Geralt disappeared beyond sight. 

Ciri, however, didn't notice anything. Absorbed in her own little world for a bit, or at least for most of the night, she didn't let on that she had been listening to you. She saw the way Yennifer was eying Geralt. It wasn't until a few card games that she talked about it. 

“I prefer you over Yennefer.” She told you. Jaskir looked at you, seeing the smile and shock on your face. “I don't like that he didn't ask you to go.”

“I…I don't either, Ciri” you told the young girl. 

“He loves you. I think he's just being stupid,” Ciri told you, comforting you. The young girl had taken a strong liking to you in the years you had been with and known her. She thought of you like a mother, a guardian, someone she knew would lay down her life to protect her.  You managed to find her before Geralt and keep her safe while helping her find your lover and her guardian. Once you did, it felt like a family reunion. You remember meeting Yen with them and discovering her betrayal. Seeing her now and knowing she was trying to be genuine, you had no reason to worry, yet you did.  The rest of the night was a mix of worry and jealousy. 

You worried he would realize how much better the woman before him that night was than you. How powerful she was and how it barely compared to you. How could she teach Ciri far better than you could about magic, even though Ciri had mastered most, if not all, of what you had taught her so far. You just wanted Geralt to love you for you, and you felt as thought you might always be compared to her. 

When morning came, and Geralt walked through the door with Yennifer, you noticed he wore a different outfit. You glanced at Yennifer, who was doing her best not to look over at you. Her face was flush, and her eyes were cast down away from you. Your worries were confirmed. 

“I knew it,” you said. Geralt's eyes flashed with worry, worry that you had figured it out. You stormed out the back door, and Geralt followed after. 

“Y/N! Y/N/N!” he yelled. Your flowy flower dress flowed in the wind as you continued storming off towards the woods, wishing to be with the trees. Soon after, you fell to the ground in the middle of a clearing, hearing and feeling the forest energy.

“Are you alright?” Geralt asked, kneeling next to you.

“You slept with Yennifer didn't you?” you asked, tears in your eyes. “You know I'm nothing compared to her. How could I ever expect to be better than her? You'll always want her…”

“Y/N that's not true” Geralt said, his husky voice causing you to shiver away. 

“Yes it is” you said, power serging from you, rumbling the woods. “I am nothing compared to Geralt, I have less power, less beauty...”

“Y/N! I told her I wanted to marry you "Geralt said, holding your face in his hands. 

“What?” you said. Suddenly everything in you went quiet, including the world around you.

“I told her I wanted to spend my life with you from now on. That she meant nothing to me anymore.” Geralt's words cut through you. Yennifer's downward look wasn't because she was sorry she slept with him, but because she was sorry she tried to and got rejected. You realize that Geralt's clothes were probably because he was tired from the long night of fighting that Yen lent him clothes, not because he wanted to stay.

“You want to marry me?” you asked him, tears in your eyes

“Yes,” he said firmly. 

“I'm sorry…I was…” you stumbled over words. 

“It's okay. Darling i understand” He said kissing your tears away, “I understand why you got there. Why you think I loved her? I don't”

“I know that now” you said slightly laughing, “I love you”

“I know, darling,” he said. He helped you stand and walk back towards that little cottage with your family inside. Yennifer came over and apologized profusely. She wanted nothing more than to be friends and to set up the wedding. She was happy he found someone like you and that she wouldn't ever get in the way. You were happy your worries were not true and that Geralt was the man for you forever.

#witcher geralt #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #geralt x you #geralt and ciri #geralt z rivii #the witcher x reader #the witcher #henry cavill

[samstree]

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Jaskier asks in wonder, the golden sunset casting long shadows behind them.

They sit side by side on the beach, toes buried in the sand. There is no one else on the coast for miles, only the two of them. They could be the only two people in the world.

It’d be enough, Geralt realizes.

He looks back at Jaskier, turning away from the sunset. Jaskier wears happiness well, his cheeks round with a smile, eyes flowing with warmth. It’s a state rarely shown around anyone else. A bard performs to an audience, but never to Geralt, never when it’s just the two of them.

“Yeah,” Geralt whispers, “it is.”

Jaskier meets his gaze, the crinkling around his eyes deepening. He looks at Geralt like this, like he’s seeing his favorite person in the world, the one that makes it all better.

“Don’t be cheeky, witcher,” Jaskier says, putting his chin on Geralt’s shoulder. “You are supposed to be watching the sunset.”

“Rather watch something else.”

“I’m not going anywhere, you know?” Jaskier’s grin stretches. He pokes Geralt’s cheek so he turns his attention back to the sight in front of them. “But this is fleeting.”

“Hmm.”

The sun dips into the horizon, where the crashing waves blend into the sky, the clouds painted with an upturned palette.

“Close your eyes,” Jaskier says softly, “just for a moment. Go on.”

And Geralt does. He lets the sun kiss his eyelids.

Jaskier sighs happily, leaning against Geralt’s shoulder. “The sun will set today. Tomorrow it shall rise again, but never the same. This moment isn’t meant to last, and for the rest of our lives, we can only live with the knowledge that this sunset has been lost.” He pauses, breathing in, and out. “Keep your eyes closed for me, dear, because right now, it’s like you are already living it. You’ve already lost this sunset. It only exists in your memories now, and yet…”

“And yet?”

Geralt nearly melts into Jaskier’s voice.

“And yet,” Jaskier continues. “Open your eyes.”

Geralt opens his eyes, and the incandescent light spills into his vision, nearly blinding him. His breath catches at the beauty of the same sunset.

“Oh.”

“Oh,” Jaskier agrees. “Just like that, you’ve briefly experienced the joy of finding something that is long lost.”

They sit in silence until the sun completely disappears, the golden orange fading into a blue canvas, illuminated by the stars.

There are tears in Geralt’s eyes. He blinks them away before turning towards Jaskier again. The stars are in his eyes too.

“It’s lost anyway,” Geralt says, chest heavy with a grief he cannot name.

“Not the same.” Jaskier shakes his head. “You found it once. It will always be with you, right here.”

When Jaskier presses a hand on Geralt’s chest, his touch is warm, like the sunset lingering in Geralt’s heart.

☆

Brokilon forest is quiet when Geralt wakes up from the pain, his back covered in cold sweat.

The aches flare up at night, deep in his bones, when the air is cold and the dew is heavy. There are wounds magic cannot heal, like Yen said. He groans against the discomfort, breaths coming out erratic.

“Hey, Geralt. It’s alright.” Jaskier is next to him in an instant. “You are alright.”

Cool fingers brush away the hair on his forehead soothingly. Jaskier sits beside the bed with soft words and gentle touches, his presence steady and calming as Geralt slowly breathes through the throbbing pain.

“Jask—” he reaches out, catching Jaskier’s hand in his. “I’m fine.”

“I know. I know. All healed, as you claim.” Worry still strains Jaskier’s voice. “I’m not quite convinced. Are you sure we shouldn’t stay for a few days more? Just a bit longer.”

Geralt pulls himself up on the bed with Jaskier’s help, leaning against the bark and the leaves. He winces at the way his knee pops.

“We need to leave tomorrow,” Geralt says, his brow still tight.

Jaskier looks away, but Geralt can make out the hesitation in his movement, in the way he seems to want to say something, but thinks better of it.

“Of course,” he says, in the end.

Geralt stays there, waiting for the pain to fade. It doesn’t for a long time.

“Jask,” he asks tiredly, tugging Jaskier’s hand, “will you come here?”

Jaskier doesn’t move. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t. Just… let me look at you.”

Geralt moves to the side, leaving room for Jaskier to sit side by side with him. He opens his arms when Jaskier carefully climbs into bed, curling into his side. Something clicks into place when Jaskier fits into his body like this. Too many things are going wrong, but this…

This is right.

“Hey,” Jaskier says softly. He guides Geralt to look at him with a hand on his cheek, eyes bright like the fireflies in the forest. “I’m here.”

Geralt closes his eyes, resting his forehead against Jaskier’s. There’s too much lost in too little time. He doesn’t dare to think about losing Jaskier too, the last person by his side. He shudders to imagine being here alone, injured and dying, with no gentle hands holding him.

But Jaskier is here, with his lute and his songs, his unconditional loyalty. Jaskier found him.

Geralt opens his eyes with an exhale.

“You are here,” he says. “You found me.”

In the moonlight, under the canopy of the forest, Jaskier lets Geralt rest on his shoulder, a smile under his breath.

“I always will,” he whispers the promise. “I won’t lose you, Geralt, not too often, not for long. You see, I found you once, all those years ago in that terrible tavern. I’ve kept you with me since, right here.”

He takes Geralt’s hand and presses it over his fast-beating heart. A human’s heart, fragile and breakable, but unbelievably strong at the same time.

Geralt is tired. All he feels is the rhythm of Jaskier’s heart under his fingertips.

He sleeps with Jaskier next to him, the last piece of his home, murmuring soft things to ward off the faint echoing of his injuries.

They sleep in the quiet forest, when their family is out there somewhere.

Tomorrow, the sun will rise, but never the same. Because tomorrow, Geralt will find the rest of their family too.

#geraskier #geraskier fic #post season 3 #the witcher spoilers #the witcher s3 #s3 spoilers #witcher spoilers

[a-prompt-archive]

I still love that scene where Joey Batey sings "Burn Butcher Burn". the emotion in it is amazing! and it really gets me thinking...

How perfectly fitting is the phrase "Watch me burn all the memories of you" ?

(this shit got too long, click the "Keep reading" so this doesn't take up a big part of your dash )

During Rience's torture he starts singing the song. Rience doesn't stop him, smiling instead because for sure this is a sign that the bard is cracking! He nearly has him! But something starts to build. Some innate magic that Jaskier has (that he might or might not know about, writer's choice) uses the song as a spell or rather ritual and builds upon it, using Rience's fire magic to boost itself and turns that one phrase into a reality!

Firefucker notices the drain on his magic too late to do anything about it. He can just watch as Jaskier erases huge parts of his own memories to protect Geralt and the child surprise (he may or may not have met before, another writer's choice).

Rience curses and is about to kill the now useless bard when Yennefer arrives to save the day.

However the dialogue after the safe is such that Yen doesn't notice Jaskier had lost his memories of Geralt! After all, the maagic erased Geralt, but not anyone else. To protect his sanity, Jaskier's magic has constructed a sort of fake memories or blurriness so that he doesn't question how he could have met Yennefer, or who he could have written those songs.

Fast forward to Geralt finding Jaskier in prison.

Now this could go either of two ways.

First way: Geralt notices that Jaskier has no idea who he is, but he still has info about Yennefer, so he brings him along, (potentially slightly unwilling) in some sort of strange reversal of their beginning years. Attempting to spark the bard's memory along the way and hoping Vesemir has a solution.

Second way: Netflix-Geralt is rather oblivious and Jaskier is smart enough to notice that whoever this guy is, he's his ticket out of the jail. So he pretends to know this person and gets dragged into these situations he was not expecting at all. so it's only after the battle at the end of s2 where people notice that Jaskier has absolutely no fucking clue who Geralt is. With Geralt having written of any weird responses Jaskier might have given before then to the fact that he's still angry with him.

#writing prompts #prompt #the witcher #jaskier #geralt of rivia #season 2 rewrite

[mlm-writer]

Old Friend (Geralt x GN!Reader)

Pairing:  Show!Geralt of Rivia x Gender Neutral Reader (can be interpreted as platonic or romantic) Rating: Mature Words: 1670 POV: Second Summary: The Big Tober Day 21 - “I did what I had to do to protect those I love… I had no choice!” Note: Don't @ me for still posting things that were supposed to come out in October. Tags: angst, mention of Ciri & Yennefer, ft. Jaskier & Milva, murder and dark magic

Everyone would agree that Ciri was an unlucky girl with a life tainted by tragedy. Every time you spoke with her about her past, you felt a little pang in your heart. However, sometimes you envied her. The way Geralt reserved his warmest of smiles for his charge, the way the most powerful sorceress spent her time teaching Ciri and the power Ciri possessed sometimes made you feel like she was, in some way, a very lucky girl. 

You spent life on the run with Ciri, Geralt and Yennefer. Most of the time you felt like you were family, sometimes you felt like an extra, an unnecessary weight, but no one told you to leave. You had nothing to teach Ciri that Geralt and Yennefer couldn’t. They had it covered from sword to spells to alchemy. 

Then things kept going to shit and before you knew it, Geralt was flirting with death and Ciri was missing. You wanted to go find her, but Yennefer insisted you stayed with Geralt. “You can heal anything!” Geralt exclaimed as you exhausted yourself once more. He was capable of loud verbal abuse. You should’ve counted that as a win, but it was hard to, when Geralt was still bed-bound. 

“I’m doing everything I can!” You yelled back. Milva entered, her hand landing on your shoulder. It has been the same song over and over again ever since Jaskier revealed Ciri was on her way to Nilfgaard. Geralt proceeded to demand more of you. Milva forced you out. Jaskier was waiting for you with a brew of herbs that would help you recover your strength. “I’m really doing everything I can,” you sobbed by the fire. 

Jaskier put his arm around you, comforting you the best he could. “I know. He knows. He is just… Geralt.” You leaned against the bard, letting his body’s warmth seep into yours. You sat by the fire until it got dark. Jaskier eventually let you be to mull over your thoughts in peace. When you had the strength you used your magic on those that did appreciate it. You were weak, but even a little was for many enough to pull their foot out of the grave. 

Exhaustion gnawed at your bones. Your muscles felt like they were weighed down by the state of the world. You took a stroll out of the camp, trying to avoid Jaskier and Milva. They meant well, but their words were not enough to distract you from the power you lacked. 

When the lights of the camp were far behind you, you stopped walking. You couldn’t hold yourself up anymore, knees colliding with the muddy ground of the forest. From a secret pocket sewn into the coat you’ve had for over two decades, you procured an amulet you haven’t worn since you met Geralt all those years ago. The deep red gem reflected the light of the moon onto your eyes. Deep within the stone you could see an old friend. You promised Geralt you’d throw this trinket away; you promised you would never give in to temptation again, but despair had forced you quite literally to your knees. You clenched the charm tightly in your fist. “All is fair in love and war,” you whispered as you stared down at your fist, noticing how red light seeped between your fingers. “These are times of war and… I love him.”

Those words spoken aloud strengthened your resolve. You closed your eyes as you put the thin golden chain over your head, letting the amulet fall right where your heart was. As soon as that metal hit your chest, you felt an old friend occupying your mind once more. “I always knew you’d come back,” it told you. It gave you visions of how to help Geralt. The methods dancing on the grey moral spectrum, but led by these visions, you made your way back to the camp. You entered the tents of the sleeping patients you had helped earlier. You touched those that you didn’t think would make it to the morning. Their life force entered through your fingertips. They breathed their final breath. You felt the weak energy pooling together. One tent, two, three, you passed though the whole camp, taking what you needed from those that were not likely to hold onto it for long anyway. Each time you took, darkness rose to your skin, revealing your deeds in the night. 

Your veins had turned black by the time you entered the final tent. Geralt was fast asleep as well, too injured to even hear you entering, too unwell to open his eyes and ask you what you were doing there. A black tear rolled down your cheek as you placed your hand on his chest and let go of all the energy you had collected. The life energy of the people that died that night flowed from your chest down to your fingertips. In his sleep, Geralt inhaled deeply as the energy filled him. It only took a moment, but it felt like an eternity as you felt the weight of the lives you took to save the one most dear to you. 

When you were devoid of all the energy but your own, you collapsed on the ground, legs too tired to keep you up. You took deep breaths, trying to avoid looking at your hands. However, in the end you just needed to know how bad things were. You raised your palms, the sight - though expected - still horrifying. Your skin had blackened from the dark magic. Your hands felt fine though. “You did well. This is only the beginning of what we can achieve. You’re meant to take what you please,” the old friend’s voice echoed through your skull. The words were reassuring, but you knew all too well where things could lead. You reached for the amulet, ready to rip it off you. “You need me. Without me you’re useless. You can’t protect the ones you love.” 

Geralt had you once believe otherwise, but it only took one glance towards him to show you where his faith in you had led him to. Even the great White Wolf could be wrong sometimes. Defeated, you slowly let go of the amulet, allowing it to occupy its old spot. “Everything will be fine. You will be fine,” the being spoke through the amulet to you. You had heard those words a million times from Jaskier, but only now did they actually soothe you. 

The next morning you woke up from stirring on the bed. You hadn’t dared to leave the tent and slept on a chair. “Geralt,” you whispered, aware of your surroundings the moment your ears picked up on the rustling of blankets. You forgot what you looked like, immediately rising from the chair and joining Geralt at his side. You inspected the wound on his leg, but it was not there anymore, a new scar adorning his skin. 

Your eyes didn’t meet Geralt’s until he sat up on his own. “What did you do?” His voice dripped of venom. You lifted your head to meet his yellow eyes, darkened by the deeply furrowed eyebrows. Your throat felt tight, so tight that not a single syllable could make it through to the cold space between you and the Witcher. He called your name and reached out. You were frozen in place as his calloused fingers traced the black marks on your face. “What did you do?” He repeated the question, emphasising each word with urgency. 

Black tears pooled in your eyes, the first few already rolling down your cheeks by the time you found your voice once more. “I did what I had to do to protect those I love…” You swallowed a lump in your throat. “I had no choice.” Your voice trembled, each word shaking more than the previous one. 

Geralt was visibly seething as he grabbed your arm, his grip tight. “What did you do?” He demanded, voice booming in the small space. You tried to free yourself. 

“Geralt, please, you’re hurting me!” “Say it!” 

He knew you. He knew you from the moment he met you. He knew the person you could be once you gave up on your ‘old friend’. He knew what you did then and he knew what you did last night. He knew, but he didn’t want to. He wanted to be wrong. He wanted to have mistaken that familiar amulet around your neck. However, things were exactly as it seemed and just like things never changed, Jaskier and Milva came in right on que. 

Jaskier called out for Geralt, tried to calm him. He immediately commented on how he seemed to be better, proceeded to ask how. Meanwhile, Milva freed you of Geralt’s grip. A crowd had formed at the entrance, but you couldn’t see anyone in the room but Geralt. “How many have died tonight?” Geralt demanded to know, Jaskier and Milva now in between you two. They tried to calm him. “How many?” He roared. 

His fury eventually ripped the answer out of you. “I don’t know! I only took from those that were not likely to make it to the morning anyway.” 

“Jaskier…” Geralt’s voice was quieter now he got his answer from you. He turned to the bard. “How many people died tonight?” Jaskier turned to Milva, hoping she held the answer. 

“42,” she spoke with surprising steadiness. She then looked at you, shaming you with her eyes alone. She was not the only one who despised your existence after that night. Jaskier pleaded for your life, then left with Geralt to find Ciri. You had to go your own way, fend for yourself once more. If it wasn’t for your aching heart, it was like you never met the Witcher at all. He never wanted to see you again, but even as you walked with your backs facing each other, you felt like you would see him again. It was a funny thing… destiny. 

—————

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#gender neutral reader #male reader #the witcher #the witcher s3 #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #geralt x male reader #geralt x gender neutral reader #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia x gender neutral reader #geralt of rivia x you #geralt of rivia x y/n #the witcher fic #dandelion #jaskier #milva

[artistsfuneral]

Crushes

"Oh my," Jaskier chuckles quietly from where he's sitting across from Geralt in one of the big chairs by the hearth. Immediately alert - because Jaskier is never quiet about anything - Geralt looks up at the bard. He follows his friend's gaze to Coen and Ciri at the other end of the great hall. They're doing nothing out of the ordinary as far as he can tell; The griffin is outwardly relaxed, listening to Ciri's enthusiastic chattering with an idle smile on his lips.

Grunting in hope of an explanation, Geralt returns his focus on Jaskier who seems to be beaming with a mix of glee and something other the witcher can't point. "It seems," Jaskier answers the unasked question with his voice hushed, "that our favorite princess is harboring a little crush."

He doesn't know what to feel as his head whips around back to his daughter and one of his closest friends. Denial at first, because surely Jaskier is wrong about this. There's no way it's true, right? Followed by the horrible possibility of Jaskier being correct about it. Geralt gulps audibly.

Judging by the way Coen suddenly looks paler than before, the griffin has very much listened in on their conversation and is now rethinking his life choices. Good, Geralt says to himself. Ciri stays blissfully unaware.

"Now, now, don't look so shocked, Papa Wolf." Said shock might be the only thing keeping Geralt from knocking Jaskier off his seat for the usage of the forbidden nickname. "It's a perfectly normal thing for a young girl to develop a crush or two. And I mean look at Coen-dear, he's quite a catch, isn't he? Tall, pretty, well-mannered and kind. I can't say I'm surprised," Jaskier goes on, either just as blissfully unaware or gracefully ignoring that Coen could hear every single whispered word.

"How can you be so sure? It's not like she ever said anything," Geralt argues in the hopes of being able to hold onto his denial. (He denies that too.) Jaskier hides a laugh, "Of course she wouldn't say anything, especially not to her Dad. It is fairly obvious though, I'm afraid. Isn't she spending more time with him than usually? She's constantly chattering him up, trying to figure out his likes, dislikes and special interests. Tries really hard to impress him during these conversations and training. Look at her, the way she's beaming every time Coen-dear smiles at her. It's adorable."

Geralt still doesn't know how to feel about all of this. The worst part of it is, that the bard is making a horrible lot of sense. Geralt - who just started to enjoy his fatherhood - is in no way prepared for this, he realizes. "But isn't he too-" old? He doesn't finish the sentence.

The bard returns his concerned look with a soft smile. "Of course, but that's completely normal too. She just realized for the first time that Coen-dear is a great man. He is incredibly talented in the same skills she wants to learn, he is kind to her and rather good-looking. It's the perfect combination for a crush." Geralt is almost afraid to hear the answer of his next question, "What do we do?" Across the hall Coen visibly straightens, mentally preparing himself to jump out of the next window. Meanwhile Jaskier looks at Geralt like he just bit into a broom. "Do? We're doing absolutely nothing. It's a crush. It'll go away in a few weeks. As long as Coen-dear doesn't do anything stupid." The last part Jaskier voices with a sharp edge, definitely addressed to the griffin. "If he simply acts like he normally does, nothing will happen and we can peacefully watch Ciri blush and stumble over herself. Geralt, my dear, I didn't tell you so you can make a battle plan. I just thought it was adorable and wanted to share that with you."

Nothing happens for a moment and then Geralt and Coen visibly deflate with relief. Across the hall, little Ciri places her hands on her hips and huffs at the griffin. "Are you even listening to me?" She asks, lips forming a royal pout that worked like magic back in Cintra. In Kaer Morhen it's not different. "Of course, princess, please go on." The smile on Coen's face is warm and adoring. Maybe, one day - he decides silently - when Ciri is all grown up and a witcher undoubtedly much stronger than him, he will tease her about her crush. For now he just lets her be a kid.

Jaskier grins knowingly and waves his hand in the air, addressing Geralt once more. "If that's been a shock to you, just wait a year or two for her first rebellion. I bet 100 crowns she'll fall for Lambert."

No, Geralt thinks. Not if Lambert is conveniently locked up in the basement.

#the witcher #artistsfuneral about the witcher #geraskier #jaskier #geralt #geralt of rivia #ciri #cirilla fiona elen riannon #ciri of cintra #witcher coen #witcher

[ghostinthelibrarywrites]

14, geraskier please?

14. A firm handshake, professionally at first, but a second too long

“Well, that was exciting!” Jaskier claps his hands in delight and surveys the wreckage of what was once his estate’s portrait gallery.

Geralt looks in disbelief at the viscount, who is grinning and bouncing on his toes like a child awaiting his Midwinter gifts. Jaskier is worlds away from the hollow-eyed young man who hired Geralt a week ago to free him from the dark magic that had been plaguing his castle for days, the result of a cursed statue gifted to him by a vengeful former lover. Now the statue lies in pieces on the ground, the entity that lived inside it is dead, and the intended target seems to have forgotten the weeks of terror he suffered.

“Exciting,” Geralt deadpans.

“Well, I imagine you do this all the time.”

“No, a cursed statue trying to rip my head off is a new one.”

“Ah, yes.” Jaskier grimaces as his eyes fall to Geralt’s neck, which most likely sports the beginnings of finger-shaped bruises that will fade by morning. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

“I’m fine.” Geralt crosses his arms over his chest and scowls at him. “But you could have been, since you didn’t stay downstairs like I told you to.”

Jaskier looks entirely unabashed. “I heard a lot of crashing. I had to come see if you were alright!”

Geralt sighs, knowing an argument he has no chance of winning when he sees it. “Just next time a woman you know loathes you sends you a mysterious gift, push it off a cliff into the sea.”

“In my defense, I thought the Countess’ style was more to tell everyone that I’m a dreadful lover, not to send me a murderous statue.” Jaskier pauses. “Her claims about my abilities in bed are pure spiteful fabrication, of course. I’ve gotten nothing but rave reviews from objective parties.”

“Glad to hear it,” Geralt says. He’ll have to go see this Countess, make sure she’s not going to send anyone else a cursed statue. Technically, his contract with Jaskier was over the moment the entity inside the statue died on his sword, but Geralt wants to make sure no more nasty surprises are coming the viscount’s way. It’s the least he can do.

“But thank you, Geralt.” Jaskier looks at Geralt with earnest blue eyes. “I owe you my life.”

“The five hundred crowns we agreed on is more than sufficient.” Geralt probably shouldn’t be surprised that Jaskier is still being so warm towards him, since that seems to be the viscount’s default. But part of him expected Jaskier to withdraw once he no longer needed Geralt to keep him safe.

“I don’t think any amount of coin is sufficient, but it’s a start.” Jaskier holds out his hand to Geralt. “Thank you, my friend.”

Geralt takes Jaskier’s hand in his and shakes. Jaskier’s palm is warm and callused, his fingers long and dexterous. Just the other night, Jaskier told him that he was studying to be a bard before his father died and he became the viscount at seventeen. It’s easy to imagine those long fingers dancing over the strings of an instrument. It’s easy to imagine those fingers in a number of places, a thought that Geralt tries carefully to avoid.

He looks up into Jaskier’s eyes and realizes that he’s been holding his hand for a moment too long. His thumb rests over Jaskier’s pulse point. Quickly, he releases Jaskier’s hand, letting his own drop to his side.

A smile plays over Jaskier’s lips. “You know, it’s late. There’s no need for you to head out tonight. Why don’t you stay one more night? You may actually be able to use the guest room I made up for you, now that you don’t have to stay up all night guarding me from malevolent forces.”

“Thank you.” Geralt doesn’t necessarily think he’d mind staying up all night with Jaskier under more pleasant circumstances, another thought he’s very carefully trying not to have.

“And it looks like rain out there, doesn’t it? Maybe you’ll have to stay for a few more days. As long as you need, of course. I’d hate for lovely Lady Roach to have to get her glorious mane wet. But we can figure that out tomorrow. I think a celebration is in order, don’t you? How do you feel about Everluce?”

“Tastes less cat-pissy than most wines.”

“Oh, good gods. You’ll need to stay at least another couple of days. If the best you can say about Everluce is ‘not cat-pissy,’ then you’ve clearly only been drinking overpriced swill passed off as fine wine by unscrupulous parties. Don’t you worry, my friend, we’ll set it right.”

Geralt lets himself be steered out of the portrait gallery as Jaskier talks his ear off about wine. He can still feel the warmth of Jaskier’s hand in his all the way down to the kitchens.

24 Touches Prompts

Tag list: @kueble @mollymawkwrites @feral-jaskier @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde @dawnofbards @thisislisa @tsukiwolf42 @mosaicscale @rockysstupidity @fontegagrilledcheese @kuripon @help-i-need-a-cool-username @julek @flowercrown-bard @eveljerome

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #ghost's writing #prompt fills

[shanastoryteller]

happy pride!! geraskier? 🏳️‍🌈

Yennefer doesn't think anything of the silver ring on Geralt's left hand. He's a witcher, for fuck's sake.

She keeps not thinking of it until she stumbles on him at a pub, which wouldn't be too strange except there's a semi-talented bard belting out a tune, jaunty and uplifting enough that the whole place is rowdy with it.

"I didn't know you liked music," she says, sliding into the chair next to him with a goblet full of mead.

He doesn't seem surprised at her presence, but he never does. He almost smiles at her, the closest he gets when they're still clothed. "I don't really have a choice."

She's still trying to puzzle that out when the bard careens towards their table and plops himself in Geralt's lap, continuing to play and sing from his new position.

Yennefer freezes, waiting for Geralt to shove him aside or start yelling or even draw his sword. Instead he smirks, pointedly turning his head away to drink his beer. The bard goes so far to lean back into his chest, his head falling over Geralt's shoulder and singing directly into his ear.

The volume can't be comfortable if nothing else, but Geralt doesn't so much as flinch. Neither do the other patrons, laughing and shouting and no one screaming obscenities' or going green at the sight of a witcher.

For a moment, Yennefer almost thinks that she's not speaking to Geralt at all, but she dismisses the thought just as quickly. Her magic would sense if he were a doppler or under a glamour.

The bard only stands once he's finished, bowing to all the clapping patrons and accepting several beers when he refuses an encore - or a second encore, based on what several people are yelling.

People eventually dissipate and the bard drops into the seat next to Geralt. "Who's the pretty lady?" he asks, taking Geralt's beer instead of any of the full ones littering the table.

"She could eat you," he says but the bard just laughs.

She notices a familiar silver ring on his left finger and her eyes drop to Geralt's hand. They're identical.

"Sorry that he's so rude," the bard says, holding out his hand. "I'm Jaskier. You're gorgeous."

She doesn't take his hand, instead slowly moving her gaze between them. "How do you two know each other?"

Geralt sighs. "Don't-"

"Carnally," he says, "physically, emotionally, mentally, spiritually, metaphysically-"

"Do you even know what that means?" Geralt asks.

"Alchemically," Jaskier continues, "holistically-"

"I'm going to divorce you," he says, which at least answers that question.

Jaskier shrugs. "You can try. How did you two meet?"

Yennefer stills. She's not pleased with being the other women, but she's not about to get in the middle of anyone's marital business, even Geralt's, so she'll just agree with with whatever lie Geralt tells.

"She put a curse on me and now we sleep together," he says.

Jaskier looks her over, but less like a jealous lover and how she's used to men looking at her. "Nice."

He holds his hand up for a hand five which Geralt ignores. Jaskier pouts.

A very pretty barmaid comes over, holding a cup of the same mead Yennefer is drinking. "Hello, Jaskier," she says shyly, the lines around her eyes taking nothing away from the lush curves of breast and thigh. "You have such a lovely voice. I'd love to hear more of it, later, if you're free."

Jaskier looks to Geralt with a raised eyebrow. Geralt shrugs.

"No time like the present, my lady," he says, bouncing to his feet. He takes the mead in one hand and settles the other on her hip, leading her toward the stairs.

Yennefer stares. "You're just going to let him do that?"

He shrugs again. "You can sleep with him too if you want. He's the one that taught me the thing with my tongue that you like so much."

Interesting, but not currently her focus. "Why didn't you tell me you were married?"

How the hell is a witcher married? To a bard, of all people?

"You didn't ask," he answers, and then says nothing else.

Okay, just for that she is going to sleep with his husband.

#prompt answers #prompts are closed #asks #kourasmenos #witcher

[starfirewildheart]

Wolf and the flame

Summary:

again many timeline changes and I'm making the story my bitch.

Word count: 2,694

Chapter 6

Several days had passed since their arrival at Kear Morhen. Naurel was feeling much better between Vesimer’s treatments and Triss’s healing sessions but the tests they ran on her blood only left them with more questions. Something was different about her blood and Triss was positive there was some sort of spell that was keeping her subdued that the sorceress couldn’t seem to break.

Geralt had spoken to Yen at length about his wish and what it meant and how he wasn’t her mate but she disagreed. She felt as drawn to him as Naurel did, though in different ways, and reminded him that there was magic involved. For her, it was more visceral and hungry. The three of them had many discussions and Naurel was still unsure. What if her feelings and Geralt’s feelings for her were forced from the magic Triss felt attached to her? What if once that was gone that Geralt wouldn't feel the same and she had let him push Yennefer away? She couldn’t be responsible for that. Ciri seemed to be getting closer to Yen as well. With Yen’s help, she was slowly starting to learn to control some of the chaos she’d discovered.

She sighed realizing she needed to clear her head for a bit and wandered outside of the keep into the snow. Walking into a clearing from the stone structures she looked out over the mountain. The structure itself was dilapidated but the view was beautiful. She gasped when she felt strong arms close around her waist. Even in the snow, she hadn’t heard his approach. “It’s freezing out here,” he rumbled as he pressed a kiss to her temple.

“It’s beautiful though. It looks so peaceful and pure.” She turned to face him. “Why are you out in the cold?”

“Cold doesn’t bother me like it does humans. I was just practicing a bit,” he turned so she could see the tall posts he’d been on while sword training.

“You know, you should probably teach me to use one of those just in case I have to defend Ciri or myself. I mean I know you are her protector but in case you are fighting a larger beast I could at least maybe defend her from humans,” she explained.

He smiled at her. “I will keep you safe.”

“I know,” she nodded “but you also have to keep Ciri safe, Jaskier out of trouble and countless other random humans safe as well so that makes you stretched a little thin. I just thought I could take some pressure off of you if you didn’t have to worry about me.”

He could see the logic in what she was saying and knowing she could defend herself if he wasn’t around did sound like a good idea. He stepped over to a bag of supplies he’d brought out to practice with and pulled out a short sword that was fairly light before motioning her to him. “Swords are heavier than people realize and they get into trouble when they fight because they choose one that is too heavy. This is a short sword and a perfect weight and length for you,” he handed it to her.

She looked at the blade as he stepped behind her pressing against her back. She let him guide her body with his as he showed her how to properly swing and slash with it. At first, it felt really awkward and unnatural but after several repetitions, it became easier and more fluid. He moved from behind her and sat down on one of the log benches as he watched her. “I feel like an idiot slashing and stabbing at the air,” she laughed. “Are you teasing me or is this real training?”

“It’s real,” he grinned, “and you are doing wonderfully.”

She continued practicing the few moves he’d shown her over and over until she got them perfect. It wasn’t until she heard him say her name that she noticed how low the sun was getting in the sky. “Come inside and get warm. You’ve been practicing for hours.”

“Wow I didn’t even notice how late it was getting,” she said as she shook some of the snow from her hair which seemed frozen to her head. They gathered the training supplies and went inside.

“Careful with that sword girl,” Lambert teased. “You might hurt someone with it.”

“That’s the idea, right?” she grinned and winked at Geralt who was helping her out of her wet cloak and moving her near the fire.

“Only if you know how to use it,” Lambert chuckled.

“You stab them with the pointy end, right?” she smirked. Coen, Geralt, Vesimer, and Eskel laughed.

“Smartass,” he huffed in her direction before tucking into his bowl of stew.

Vesimer motioned them over to his table to join him. Geralt noticed the look of unease he had. “What troubles you?”

“We have exhausted every book and paper that we have here and we can’t find anything on the discrepancies in Naurel’s blood and Triss has had no luck in trying to remove the magic that is plaguing her.”

“And,” Naurel asked after a long pause.

“I think you should go see Nenneke. At the very least she might be able to help with the magic but I suspect she will know more bout what is going on with Naurel’s blood than we have been able to find. She might also be able to help with Ciri.”

“Who is Nenneke?” Naurel asked.

Geralt explained about the priestess and her abilities and agreed seeing her would be wise. They made plans to go the next day. Triss was going to open a portal for them then she had to go back to Aretuza for a while. Yennefer had heard Geralt and Ciri talking about the trip and knew she had to act quickly if she was ever going to regain her powers.

Yennefer waited until Geralt was in a different part of the keep before she approached Naurel and Ciri, who were sitting around the fire in the dining hall talking to Jaskier who was working on a song.

“What are you doing?” Jaskier asked as he saw Yennefer approach. Something was off about her. He wasn’t a fan of Yen’s any day but today she seemed particularly shifty. Watching as she approached them in almost a run, he stood.

Naurel sensed something wrong as well and moved in front of Ciri. “Get Geralt,” she whispered to the girl. For once Ciri didn’t argue.

Yennefer threw down the vial and opened the portal. “Guess you’ll have to do,” she sighed as she shoved Naurel through the opening and followed behind her, kicking out at Jaskier as he tried to grab her but he ended up tumbling through with them.

“YENNEFER!” Geralt roared as he and several of his brothers ran toward the portal as it faded.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Naurel hit the ground hard and everything in her stomach came up and spilled. She was vaguely aware of voices and hands grabbing her as she was bound to a chair. “Who the fuck are you?” Yennefer demanded. She was not at the hut where the potion was supposed to take her but in some tavern in a grungy little town.

“My identity isn’t important,” the man smirked. “All you need to know is that my plan has worked perfectly. Your selfish desire to regain your power no matter the cost has worked in my favor.”

“What do you have to do with this? The deathless mother is in control of my destiny!”

“The deathless mother is a demon imprisoned by the first withchers. Her only goal is to be set free and she will twist and contort whoever’s mind she needs to so that she gets what she needs. You were the fool who believed what she said, nothing more.” He looked a Yennefer in pity, “Volith Mier would never have given you your chaos back. She only feeds.”

“No!” Yennefer hissed. It couldn’t be true. She had risked everything for this just as she had to try and recover her womb.

“Why would I help you witch? Did you believe that Volith Meir would give you a potion for a portal? Please everyone knows the only way to her hut is with her little poem,” the man sneered as he tied Jaskier to another chair. “I wanted you to bring the girl to me. I don’t care about you losing your chaos,” he laughed. “You’re worthless without magic. I wanted the girl but if you couldn’t bring her then she,” he ran his hand over Naurel’s cheek, “is the next best thing. Geralt will come for her and he will have the girl with him. He won’t trust anyone with her after your betrayal.”

“No,” Yen whispered, tears filling her eyes. What had she done?

“Geralt has no way of knowing where we are so he won’t find us,” Naurel snapped at the man. “Your plan will fail!”

“I promise,” he leaned in next to her face, his breath was horrible, “word of your torture will spread quickly my dear.” He said as he snapped his fingers. Naurel gasped as flames flew from them.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Jaskier shivered as the flames bit at his chest again. It had been nearly two weeks since their hell had begun and it showed no signs of ending anytime soon. It started out as questions about Geralt and Ciri. Where they were, what they knew about the girl and her abilities, did they know who she was? The longer they were there the less they were questioned. He was just hurting them and it was like the bastard was just getting off on their screams. Jaskier cringed when the fire fucker picked up a hot poker from the fire but he didn’t come for him, he turned to Naurel.

“No,” she shook her head. The burns were the worst. The smell that lingered the pain and discomfort that lasted even after it was over. He held the iron poker just above her skin, teasing her. “I’m going to watch him rip your fucking heart out!” she growled as the poker got closer to her thigh. Trying to control her breathing so she could ride out the pain was a lost cause. She was exhausted, thirsty, starving, covered in filth, and had no idea where she was. She spent all the energy she had glaring at Yennefer who refused to even lift her head and look her in the eyes. Yennefer who, short of being bound and starved like her and Jaskier, was unscathed. She was drawn back to her current situation by the white-hot pain against her skin as she screamed. The smell of her own flesh burning turned her stomach. She must have passed out because she woke to Jaskier calling her name.

“Melitele, I thought I’d lost you,” he sighed when she began to stir.

“Not that easy to get rid of me bard,” she tried to lighten the mood.They had bonded during their captivity offering each other the comfort of words and simply knowing they weren’t alone in all of this. While they couldn’t physically care for each other they would offer the other a distraction of stories or corny jokes to try and take the others mind off the pain. Jaskier was looking worse everyday and as much as he tried to hide it she was sure some of his wounds were infected. They were running out of time but at least they wouldn’t die alone.

“I have been thinking..”

“I knew I smelled something burning,” she teased.

“Oh that’s just wrong,” he frowned. “Anyway… he’s been going nearly a full day before portling back in now. Maybe I can break the chair somehow and use something to cut us free.”

“That sounds like a half-assed plan,” she chuckled weakly. “Don’t do something that will get you killed Jaskier, please. I wouldn’t survive without you here. Besides, we’ve tried breaking the chairs before.”

Before he could say anything Yennefer jerked and her hands came free. She was on her feet. She grabbed a bottle and broke it using the glass to cut them loose before they could even process what had happened. “We have to move now!” she demanded and they all headed for the door.

Naurel and Jaskier helped each other as much as they could and they made a straight shot toward the woods hoping for some sort of cover. As it turned out, luck was not on their side, ever, because several men rode toward them yelling for them to stop.

The men jumped off their horses and tackled Naurel and Jaskier to the ground, Yennefer, uninjured, ran toward the woods. They fought with all they had, Naurel landing several decent blows but a punch to the temple dropped her. Three of the men held her down and started kicking her.

Jaskier had never been a fighter but he swung with everything he had left in an attempt to break free. He managed a small victory shout when he saw blood gushing from one man’s nose but was soon overtaken by the other two. They held his arms behind his back while the bloodied man punched him in the stomach repeatedly. He looked up to see Yennefer coming back toward them with a big stick.

“Jaskier!” Naurel cried out. She heard horses and yelling then saw a sword gleaming through the air dispatching one of the soldier’s head from his body. The other was quickly kicked away from her and then she saw it. Her witcher, his white hair, and leather armor as he fought his way to her.

Jaskier was let go and fell to the ground as the dwarves jumped from a wagon and started attacking the men who were assaulting him. He’d never been so happy to see those tiny, grumpy little bastards before in his life!

Once all of the attackers had been dealt with Geralt knelt to check on Naurel and Jaskier. “I’m so glad to find you alive.”

“How did you find us,” she hugged him tight as he helped her to her feet.

“We have been checking every report of someone being held prisoner or tortured since you were taken. We just heard about a fire mage torturing people in Oxenfurt and came to check it out on our way to Aretuza.” He reached down and helped Jaskier to his feet putting an arm around each of them helping them to the wagon the dwarves had brought.

“Take them to the temple,” he told them.

“Wait no, I’m not letting you leave me Geralt!” Naurel panicked.

“Shhh my love,” he soothed and placed a soft kiss on her lips. “I have to kill a monster then I promise I will be there. Nennenke will be able to heal you and you will be safe there. There is no violence in the temple.”

“But..” she argued.

“Naurel,” he cupped her face in his hands and rested their foreheads together. “Please, my heart, I need to know you are safe.”

“I’m safe with you,” she couldn’t hide her emotions and tears were streaming down her face.

“You can’t go with me to do this. Promise you that I will be there as soon as I can,” he placed a soft kiss on her lips before lowering her to lay back on the straw in the back of the wagon. He covered her and Jaskier with a thick quilt pressing his forehead to Jaskier’s as well. “I will come for you both.”

The dwarves watched the scene play out not used to seeing emotion from Geralt. “Your woman?” Yarpin asked.

Yen chose that moment to move which earned her a sword to the neck. Geralt turned and stared her down. “Mine,” he snarled at her then turned to Yarpin, “She is mine.”

The dwarf nodded and called for his men to mount up as they headed toward the temple.

Geralt glared at Yennefer, not lowering his sword. “Say it,” he demanded.

Wolf and flame tag list

@kneelforloki

@shellyshellshell

@warriormirkwood

#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill characters #geralt x reader #witcher geralt #geralt z rivii #geralt of rivia

[wannastayugly]

After watching Blood Origin, I kept wondering "what if the storyteller chose to show itself to Jaskier as Geralt?", and then this little thing happened. I hope you enjoy!

-

"Hello?" he whispered, getting no response. Elves and soldiers stood in place, stopped in the middle of a deadly dance.

Jaskier gets up from the bloody floor, with a heartbeat so desperate he could hear it in that deafening silence that had suddenly taken the battlefield. A fear he knew too well tightening his throat.

"Hello?" He calls, louder this time.

Jaskier had never been one to appreciate silence. It was a hard truth to admit: that while bringing music and warmth to others, the thing he craved the most was filling his own ears with their voices, whether they were singing back or telling him to leave, and that, while doing that, the bard had never really learned how to hear nor deal with his own thoughts, much less to be on his own.

Now, looking around, not really knowing what he is looking for, he feels the tears starting to come out and he closes his eyes, allowing them to wash away the dirty on his cheeks as a soldier stares in his direction, but doesn't really see him. No one to perform to tonight.

"I'll haunt you, witcher!" he roars. His chest aching. "Do you hear me? Maybe if you had treated me a little better, I'd never have tried to play hero!" I'd never have tried to be more like you.

He falls to his knees, covering his face and pulling his own wet hair with his tied hands. I don't want this to be how I end, he thinks. And he hurts his throat screaming one more time. Anger, desperation and fear taking him whole.

"Geralt!" don't leave me alone.

"Hello Sandpiper" a familiar voice reaches him, and Jaskier lets out a scream of fright as he immediately gets up and takes five steps back, almost falling to the floor when he stumbles on a death man. And then he sees him. His eyes go wide.

Geralt looks at him with the ghost of a gentle smile on his lips. He is wearing his usual black clothes. White hair falling in front of his face, moving with the wind. Jaskier's mouth is half-open, but he doesn't pronounce any sound. There's a moment of relief, a moment of wanting to run to that man and feel those strong arms around him again; to go back to the safest place he had ever known. But that moment doesn't last long, because that can't be him.

Jaskier wonders if that's just how angels look like when they come to guide you into the afterlife, then: safety. And, somewhere between the mess that is his mind, somehow he finds the strength to laugh at himself, because, if that's right, then even the angels know he'd follow Geralt again, anywhere, and that he'd do it with gratitude.

"Am I dead?" he asks, sounding like defeat. The angel denies. "What are you?"

"I'm many things. Many faces, many places" the white-haired man walks slowly, getting closer. Jaskier feels his heartbeat going fast again, frozen in place not by magic but by something else that had always been inside him, but he had always been too coward to name. And as the man approaches him, so close he can feel his breath over his face, that something screams even louder.

"Why do you look like him?" Jaskier whispers, lost in those golden eyes like a stupid moth attracted by light. But Jaskier already knew why.

I'd follow him anywhere.

"Because you love him"

The creature disappears. Becomes wind. And the next second Jaskier sees himself in the middle of the woods, in another place, maybe another time, and under daylight. He feels nauseous. The elven lady talks to him in a calm, gentle tone. A storyteller, he learns. And she tells him the story of seven warriors who came together to fight for their people, a story he is meant to sing to the people the Sandpiper now protects. But there's also something else there. Something that tears him apart.

"I know why you chose me" he says when she is done, impatient, reading what he just wrote, "It's not only because I'm helping them, is it? It's this… This stupid, tragic love story. But you're wrong about us. You're wrong, because we were never like this."

But when he looks up, the woman isn't there anymore. It's him. Close. His nose touching his. And Jaskier feels like a fool because his heart skips a beat; because he holds his breath, and because, even though he knows that isn't really Geralt, he can't help but being inebriated by the sight of him; can't help but wanting to press their lips together and taste his tongue as that thing tears his clothes apart and makes him his.

"You two are way more like them than you realize."

And just like that, Jaskier is back in the battlefield, surrounded by blood, screams, swords and arrows, with the papers in his hands being the only proof of the reality of what he had just heard and seen.

-

PART II

#geraskier #jaskier the bard #geralt of rivia #fic

[thedemonofcat]

The magic of a Fae depends on their mood. For example, if a Fae is angry, one should be on the lookout for storms.

An old legend states that possessing a Fae's heart at the moment of true happiness will grant one a wish.

Unfortunately for Jaskier, some have interpreted this to mean eating a Fae's heart.

Every other week, Geralt has to stop someone from trying to eat Jaskier's heart. Recently, however, Geralt himself has been pondering how he could give Jaskier a moment of true happiness—not to eat the bard's heart, but simply to make him smile.

#the witcher netflix #the witcher #joey batey #geralt of rivia #jaskier the witcher #henry cavill #the witcher jaskier #geralt x jaskier #geraskier #fic ideas #fae jaskier #jaskier #gerskier #cirilla fiona elen riannon #freya allan #headcanon #yennefer of vengerberg #the witcher season 3 #the witcher season three #anya chalotra

[fangirleaconmigo]

Yennskier to Geraskefer concept (Yennefer x Jaskier with some + Geralt at the end)

Ok so what if the very first time Yen and Jaskier ever defend each other, it is a complete shock to both of them and happens (of all places) in front of his parents?

(TW: Yen is in disguise so some of the flirting could be read as dubcon but no bards were hurt in the making of this fic, I promise)

So when they first meet, Yen and Jaskier snipe at each other relentlessly, right?

Scheming, devious, calamitous witch.

Useless cock for brains.

Geralt has taken to tuning them out completely.

By complete random bad luck, Yen learns one night in tavern gossip that Jaskier isn’t his real name. She becomes suspicious of his intentions. She brings her concerns to Geralt.

“They said that his true name is Viscount Julian Alfred Pankratz. Is that true?” she asks Geralt.

“His name is Jaskier,” Geralt answers, sounding exhausted.

She pushes. “I know that family. They are well connected, prominent, and bigoted. Your bard could very possibly be asked to turn Ciri in to curry their favor.”

"This is insane, Yen." Geralt drops his head and looks miserably into his tankard. “You two need to start getting along, or I’m going to age at least a century before winter.”

"That's not what this is about!"

She gives up on him. He will never think clearly in these matters. She suspects he has romantic feelings for the bard, which she wouldn't mind, she isn't much for monogamy herself, but oh god, the bard??? That smarmy, whorish little bastard? Unthinkable.

She decides to pay Jaskier’s parents a visit just to reassure herself that they aren’t interested in her daughter.

She disguises herself with a glamour and gets herself on the guest list of one of their fancy parties. She is playing the part of a voluptuous blonde wife of an absent Duke.

Jaskier is supposed to be back at Oxenfurt. That’s what he told Geralt, anyway. But she walks in the door and there he is, holding court at the party in his well fitted satin, with his glinting charming smile, and his flushed cheeks and…and…well…other things that Yen would never admit to noticing.

But what was he doing there?

Why did he lie about being at Oxenfurt? Could he already be colluding with his parents?

At the thought, she expects to feel rage. But an entirely different feeling wells up in her.

Disappointment. Hurt.

She shakes it off. Stupid. She's used too much magic for her glamour. It's making her weak. She takes a seat directly across from him at dinner.

He introduces himself to her and kisses her hand. Julian Alfred Pankratz.

His lips brush the top of her hand and in response she acts like one of his tarts. Only because she has to get him to trust her, obviously. Yen smiles and flutters her eyes at him. His smile is charming. So is his admiration of her form. When his gaze drops ever so briefly to her cleavage she feels something else unexpected.

Warmth.

She shakes that off too.

His parents sit on either side of him. Yen doesn’t waste much time. By the time the second course is served she brings up Ciri and the war.

She doesn’t expect Jaskier’s mom to immediately bring up the horrid witch who is hiding the child. The slut who doesn’t know her place. The evil women who schemes and plots and who gets what she wants by manipulating men with her whoredom.

Yen is used to being called these things by conservative wives. But she finds her eyes flick to Jaskier, and her heart leaps to her throat. It makes her so, so angry that she cares what he will say.

He has always seemed like an enemy? But here? Behind actual enemy lines? He feels like a friend.

Fuck.

But Jaskier averts his eyes. He stares at his plate. He isn’t going to join in, but he isn’t going to defend her either. Obviously.

She DOESNT care godsdamnit. She’s just caught up in the moment. She DOES NOT CARE.

So it is entirely incidental that she experiences immense, sweet relief when he smiles softly to himself before he replies.

“Oh mother,” he says genially, “but I know you. It is simple envy that moves you to such crude accusations.”

His mother splutters. “Do you think I covet her false beauty—“

“Not her beauty.” Jaskier says, still calm. Still affable. “She is beautiful of course, but nothing like that. It’s just that you and father are so small minded and so constantly desperate for the approval of other, equally small minded people, that when you see someone who has a soul and who lives in a free spirited manner, that you ache with envy and impotent rage. And that is why you use such uncharacteristically crude and low language to describe her. That is why you yearn to oppress her and control her. That is why you want to put her in her place.”

Jaskier smiles genially and takes another bite of his lobster.

His parents turn so pink with rage that they look purple.

Yen hasn't felt such satisfaction in so very long. She also isn't used to people taking up for her. Not in places like this.

His father is the first to regain his composure. He smiles and looks around the table at the nervous nobles who are trying their best to ignore the awkwardness.

He smiles around the table. “You have to excuse my son. Instead of accepting the position at Oxenfurt he roams the earth thinking with nothing but his base impulses. He knows nothing of the real world. He is young, idealistic, and completely useless.”

There are nervous chuckles around the table when Yennefer speaks up.

“Actually,” she says in between sips of champagne, “I have heard of your son. Jaskier is that right?”

Jaskier looks at her, surprised and deeply pleased.

His parents smile tight lipped.

“Ridiculous name,” his mother says.

“Well,” says Yen, “you’re probably right. The vaunted thinkers and academics who laud his poetry coast to coast are probably incorrect. The soldiers who offer their undying gratitude that he has documented their deeds are wrong. The traumatized war orphans who cry and say that he has saved their lives with his art are surely absurd. It is you who are correct, I’m sure. Of all the ways you can spend your life, comforting and inspiring people does sound like an utter waste of time.”

She primly sips her drink and the grateful, genuine smile that spreads on Jaskier’s face like the sunrise rockets straight to her soul.

The rest of the dinner is tense, but Yennefer is having a wonderful time. Conversing with a Jaskier like this---he is adoring and attentive--it is addictive. She never knew it could feel like this with him.

And after dinner, when he finds her outside the privy and steps incredibly close to her, his hand sliding around her waist, she is shocked into silence by her desire. She doesn't find her voice until he has kissed her ever so softly and tenderly that she almost melts onto his parents stone floors.

"J-j-askier," she manages to mumble.

"Yes, love. Marina, is it?" he murmurs into her ear, his nimble fingers trailing from her neck down, down down. "Beautiful name. Beautiful woman."

She steps back and lets his arms fall heavily to the side.

"I must tell you something. And you will regret what you just did."

It could have sounded like a threat. She meant it to sound like a threat. But it just sounds sad. The glamour falls from her and his face transforms into shock.

She swallows the lump in her throat as he steps back so hard, he hits the wall and covers his mouth with his hands.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he demands. He looks white as a sheet. Terrified.

"I just did!"

"Earlier!"

"Because!" Yen squeaks. (She never squeaks) "I was...flummoxed. I--oh a pox on it, Jaskier, I liked it. Is that what you want to hear? You asshole? You bastard?"

His hand falls slowly from his face. Then a soft, tiny, smug little smile begins to form.

"Ha. I knew it."

He did not know it.

She smacks him. He laughs.

Then he remembers something and falls back against the wall againt groaning. "Oh, Geralt. Geralt. I'm a terrible friend. I will have to run off, to never return--"

She smacks him again. "Ow, what?"

"Calm down. Let's go see him together. I have a feeling he is going to like what we have to say."

The next time they kiss, it is in front of a roaring fire in her home in Vengerberg, with Geralt caressing them both, and watching with fondness.

"If I had known that it was this easy to shut the two of you up, I would have insisted on it a long time ago."

#the witcher #yennskier #yenskier #geraskefer

[samstree]

“Ow, ow, ow…” Jaskier hisses, holding his injured shoulder still. The arrow pulls at his flesh suddenly. “Ow! Are you trying to kill me, witch?”

He turns around to send a glare, only to find Yennefer rolling her eyes.

“It needs to come out so I can heal you, bard,” she says pointedly, one hand holding him by the arm, the other wrapped around that gods-damned arrow. “Now hold still, and stop being a baby.”

She mumbles something about even Ciri making less of a fuss with injuries, and Jaskier makes his most offended noise, ready to throw back more insults.

“I’ll have you know, I was the bravest bait who ever lived, as appointed by a princess! And this is the proof of my bravery! How many bards have taken an arrow in the back? Nary one, I say! I am not being a baby, you cruel, heartless—”

A sharp pain shoots through his shoulder as Yennefer pulls out the arrow in one swift motion, nearly blinding him. Jaskier’s breath catches, and all sounds die in his throat as the world darkens for a moment. The surprise of it all leaves him shaking, his chest heaving.

“It’ll be over soon…”

Distantly, Jaskier knows Yennefer is saying something as she works her magic, but all he can focus on is the pain and the warm trickle of blood down his back. He touches the tips of his fingers on instinct, a self-soothing motion he’s developed in the past year.

“Hey.”

A gentle hand lands on where the arrow struck him, and Jaskier gasps, realizing Yennefer is now touching smooth, unbroken skin. All the pain is gone.

“Hmm,” Jaskier says, intelligently, blinking as he tries to move his shoulder. Nothing tugs at the muscles underneath. He’s as good as new. “Oh, I—Yennefer, I guess I should—”

“Don’t thank me.” She has sat down beside him, one hand still on his shoulder, a magical tingling under her fingertips. “Promised I’d save you, didn’t I?”

Jaskier chuckles, exhaling with relief. “Did you? Not before tormenting me greatly, though.”

Yennefer blinks, violet eyes boring into him. The next thing he knows, she’s leaning down to press her lips to his shoulder, right where the phantom pain has faded. The kiss ends quickly, but it is soft, bordering on sweet.

“Oh…” he breathes.

His skin is now tingling for an entirely different reason.

“What about now, oh brave bard?” she asks, half-teasing, half-sincere. Their hands find each other’s, linking together. She squeezes in reassurance, careful to avoid the burn scars on his fingers. “Still cruel and heartless?”

Jaskier holds onto her hand in return, heart picking up its pace. He doesn’t know how she does it, driving him up the wall and making his insides melt into a warm puddle of goo at the same time, all the while being her most infuriatingly witty self. There must be a special magic spell for it.

“No,” he answers, a smile stretching across his face. She raises her eyebrows, as a challenge, as a dare, but he settles on something also half-teasing, half-sincere. “Kind and generous, is what you are, my dear, dear witch.”

He takes Yennefer’s hand to his lips and kisses her in return, and watches violet eyes melt with warmth.

If there was a magic spell, Jaskier thinks, he must have been enchanted by her a long time ago.

(this is for @cherryjuicegf <33 I counted the number of crumbs you were getting and took pity...)

#yennskier #s3 spoilers #you know she must have healed him if he's fine and walking in the next scene #also mended his clothes since he's wearing the same thing later on #anyway #i emerge from the deep end to produce one (1) yennskier fic for chrysa every year #enjoy!

[shy-urban-hobbit]

For @elmonstro . Inspiration hit after our convo about potential Witcher Yule traditions and went in a weird direction 😂.

Aiden and Lambert are both oblivious, pining idiots and the other Kaer Morhen residents have had enough.

Implied, non graphic smut under the cut:

"It's mistletoe." Lambert stated like he was talking to a small child when he caught Aiden staring at it yet again with a slightly perplexed look on his face. The other Witcher elbowed him in the ribs as he rolled his eyes.

"I know what it is, Wolf. What I'm wondering is why you've just got random spriggs of it hanging over various thresholds this year."

"Jaskier's idea, probably." Lambert shrugged

"That still doesn't really tell me why." Aiden prompted when Lambert refused to elaborate. The Wolf could feel himself growing flustered. Explaining would lead his mind down a path he'd been trying to steer clear of for years.

"Yule tradition." Eskel piped up and thank the gods! Lambert wanted to hug his brother in that moment, "You're supposed to stay trapped under it until somebody kisses you." He continued, not looking up from his book...Lambert was going to reorganise everything in his brother's room, "And you were right, Lambert. Jaskier thought it would be fun."

"Of course he fucking would." Lambert grumbled under his breath. This was going to be a long and torturous winter.

It started out well enough. Aiden had discovered that Jaskier - typically - was happy with any form of physical affection bestowed on him, Eskel was happy to exchange friendly pecks on the cheek (as was Geralt, surprisingly), Vesemir's facial expression alone had warned everyone present that if they tried to kiss him, there'd be consequences, a brief hug however, was acceptable. It was the same with Yennefer, although it was becoming more of a thing to kiss her hand after Jaskier had done it as a joke and hadn't been blasted through the wall for his trouble and all of this was done with a smile and a laugh. Apart from when it came to Lambert.

No matter where or when, as soon as those two found themselves trying to pass through the same doorway it was like watching a couple of adolescents, the both of them turning into stuttering messes both reeking of anxiety as they brushed barely there kisses to each others cheeks before dashing off in opposite directions like their backsides were on fire. It would have been funny if it wasn't so painful to watch.

"Idiots. They are both idiots." Yennefer stated after having just watched Lambert staring longingly after Aiden when he left to help Vesemir bring some things up from the cellar, with Aiden doing likewise when Lambert left to see to a couple of things in his lab.

"Love truly is fucking blind." Jaskier groused from his perch in Geralt's lap, "I was sure the mistletoe would give them that teeny tiny push, you know?"

Yennefer patted his knee consolingly, "Oh it still will, little bard."

Eskel peered up at her suspiciously from where he'd had his head buried in his arms in despair at the situation, "What are you planning, Yenn?"

The witch said nothing as she took a dainty sip of wine.

"Aiden? Yennefer said you needed help with something."

"Awfully nice, considering I think it's Yennefer who's responsible."

Lambert looked down at Aiden, who was sat cross-legged on the floor just inside the doorway to the room he used whenever he accompanied Lambert in the winter, elbow resting on his knee as he propped his chin on his hand, "....I'm failing to see the problem."

Aiden got to his feet, pointed to draw Lambert's attention to the all too familiar plant above his head and made to take a step forward. Magic shimmered as it blocked him before his foot had even hit the ground, the same thing happening when he tried to take a step back further into the room, "Looks like she decided to take the trapped part of this literally."

Lambert groaned internally, "What about Jaskier, or Eskel? Can't they-"

"Offended." Aiden snorted, "And no, they all tried and no change. There's only you left."

"Offended."

"Well, maybe I've been saving the best for last. Now get over here and help your best friend."

All of Aiden's bravado vanished when Lambert moved into his space, close enough to feel his body heat, smell the slight nerves - but not close enough to touch, with Lambert's gaze settling on Aiden's ear.

"So should I, uhm -" he stuttered,

"Same as always?" Aiden asked, voice sounding only slightly steadier than Lambert's.

They both hastily brushed lips against offered cheeks - the quicker this was done, the quicker they could forget about it. Aiden once again tried to take a step into his room while Lambert made to back out into the corridor.

"Are you kidding me!?" Aiden bit out alongside Lambert's growl of "Yennefer!" as both of them were stopped in their tracks.

"Fucking great. Now what?" Lambert asked, running a hand through his hair.

"Maybe we did it too quickly?" Aiden suggested.

Lambert nodded in agreement, that seemed a perfectly logical explanation. They repeated the kiss, lingering this time, neither of them mentioning the spike in the scents of anxiety and the slightly quickened breathing of the other. Still nothing.

"Well, I'm out of ideas." Lambert leaned against the doorframe

"...I don't think I am."

"Hmm?"

Lambert wrinkled his nose at the nervousness now coming off Aiden in waves, the Cat looking more scared than Lambert had ever seen him.

"Aiden, are you-"

"Shut up. Just...please don't hate me for this."

Before Lambert could say anything else a hesitant kiss was pressed to his lips, his body stiffening on reflex.

Aiden pulled away as soon as he felt the other sieze up, "I'm sorry. I thought that maybe if...I don't actually know what I thought."

Lambert grasped Aiden's chin and repeated the same chaste kiss, only lingering a couple of seconds before pulling away and finally looking Aiden in the eye.

They collided with one another, Aiden's hands fisting in the front of Lambert's shirt while Lambert yanked him in with a hand on the back of his neck, both opening up to one another at the first hint of probing tongue. Lambert's hands travelled down, down, down to press lightly on the back of Aiden's thighs, the Cat getting the hint immediately and giving a little hop so he could wrap his legs around Lambert's waist. The Wolf moaned as Aiden's skillful fingers started making a mess of his hair as he rolled his hips while Lambert shamelessly groped Aiden's ass as he supported his weight.

It wasn't until Lambert's knees hit the bed he realised that they were now fully inside Aiden's room - quickly followed as he lowered them both onto the mattress by the realisation that they should probably close the door. He gave a deep chuckle as he felt Aiden pause in his efforts to apparently just rip Lambert's shirt clean off him and make a quick motion behind his head, closely followed by the sound of a door slamming.

"Hey." Lambert said softly. Aiden cracked an eye open to peer at him from where he'd been dozing in the strip of sunlight that fell oh so conveniently across Lambert's chest "What did you mean earlier before you - when you asked me not to hate you?"

"I thought that would have been obvious." Aiden sighed, propping himself up, "You always smelled like you were about two seconds away from bolting whenever we got caught under that fucking plant. I thought the idea of doing anything like that with me made you uncomfortable, so I kept quiet."

"Like you didn't smell exactly the same." Lambert rebuffed, tweaking Aiden's nose, "I never said anything because I thought it made you uncomfortable, otherwise I would have dragged you to bed years ago."

Aiden grinned, sliding up Lambert's body so they were face to face, hovering over him "Yeah?"

Lambert nodded, running his hands over the others ribs, "Oh yeah. There'd be no doubts about whether you were mine or not. They'd smell me all over you."

"Oh, so I'm yours now am I?" Aiden purred

"As much as I'm yours?"

Aiden gave him a couple of quick pecks, "I like the sound of that."

Without warning, he rolled off Lambert and leaned over the side of the bed, digging through his clothes before holding the sprigg of mistletoe triumphantly - he must have grabbed it off the doorframe when Lambert was distracted - before proudly placing it on the headboard.

"You're fucking ridiculous." Lambert laughed as he moved to get up and get something so they could clean themselves up. He was stopped by Aiden grabbing onto his arm.

"Ah ah ah, we're under the mistletoe. You know the rule."

Lambert made a show of rolling his eyes before leaning in and very quickly deciding that getting clean could wait.

#the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #aiden/lambert #aiden x lambert #lambden #lambert/aiden #lambert x aiden #witcher aiden #witcher lambert #lambert

[fandom-junk-drawer]

The Witcher Headcanon (Modern Au) - Error 404 Brain Not Found: Bonus Scene - Part 14

Geralt and Jaskier shuffled through the back door, arms loaded with bags of sodas. They headed straight for the kitchen and began unpacking.

It was D&D night, so Yennefer might not have thought twice about the large quantity of drinks they were hauling in. But there were two little details that set warning bells off in her head.

1. Geralt had already gone out two days earlier and bought drinks and snacks for their weekly game night. 2. Every single soda in the bags was Sprite. Both Geralt and Jaskier favored colas, and Eskel was the only one of the Witchers that preferred Sprite. What where they doing with all that Sprite?

Something asinine this way comes. Yennefer thought to herself as she eyed the men suspiciously from the kitchen doorway. Jaskier was openly smiling at her, eyes glowing merrily. Geralt was avoiding looking at her all together.

Dumbf**kery was definitely afoot.

"You want to play with us?" Jaskier asked excitedly, "We're going to do The Sprite Challenge!"

"The what--?" Before Yennefer could finish asking her question, Jaskier opened a bottle of soda and downed the whole thing in one go, pausing only to breathe and give the carbonation burn time to fade. Then he stood there expectantly.

Mentally trying to regain her footing, Yennefer glanced at Geralt. The Witcher was watching Jaskier excitedly.

The seconds ticked by.

Feeling as if she was supposed to give some sort of commentary, Yennefer said, "Er, congratulations? You drank an entire bottle of Sprite all--!"

The rest of what Yennefer said was drowned out by the almighty belch that erupted from Jaskier. It was long, loud, and carried the faint scent of lemon-lime. Geralt and Jaskier laughing ecstatically, gave each other a celebratory high-five.

What the h*ll, a girl had to have fun sometimes. Yennefer gave up trying to be the mature one, and joined her two idiots, cheering them on and recording the proceedings.

"Your turn, big guy!" Jaskier announced. Geralt nodded, twisted the top off a Sprite, and chugged it. The liquid swirled in a little tornado as it disapeared down Geralt's throat. There was a moment of silence, before Geralt made a noise like a Skellige fog horn.

Guffaws erupted, and the process was repeated, with time in between for stomachs and bladders to empty. While they waited for the next round, Jaskier and Geralt took turns trying to belch their names and various obscenities.

Geralt and Jaskier: * chug Sprite*

Jaskier: *bear with a bellyache*

Geralt: *Semi truck engine braking*

Jaskier: *sound like someone ripping a***

Geralt: *goose honk*

Jaskier: *sound like a toilet unclogging*

Yennefer decided to give it a try herself. Jaskier and Geralt cheered her on as she downed her soda. Seconds later, she opened her mouth and out came a string of garbled noises that sounded like the syllables of the blackest magic spell ever spoken.

"Holy f**k!" Jaskier laughed, tears streaming down his cheeks.

"Did you just curse someone?" Geralt chortled.

"Was it just me, or did you see snakes come out of her boots and a black cloud swirl around her?"

"Oh, f**k you both!" Yennefer grumbled.

"I'd rather *garbled burp* a nekker!" Jaskier retorted.

"That's not much of an insult, considering you'd f**k anything with a hole in it!"

Jaskier: *affronted gasp*

"Scr*bber!"

"B*llend!"

"M*ngebag!"

"A*semonger!"

Geralt decided to intervene before the tit-for-tat escalated. The Witcher chugged a Sprite, tossed the bottle aside, and assumed the belching position. The distraction worked, and Yennefer and Jaskier forgot about their bantering and waited with bated breath.

Geralt grimaced, and then *dying humpback whale noises*

The three of them immediately lost their sh*t. They howled maniacally, holding their sides and leaning on whatever surface was close by.

Laughing on a belly full of carbonated liquid turned out to be risky business.

Geralt and Jaskier both laughed so hard they spewed.

One minute Yennefer was laughing at the ridiculous noise Geralt had made, and the next, her laughter turned to exclamations of surprised disgust. Puke fountained onto the floor as Geralt and Jaskier chucked whiteys. It rolled and splattered, and Yennefer was just doing her best to get the h*ll out of the way.

The vomiting petered out, turning to dry heaves before stopping. Yennefer helped them to the living room, settling them on the couches, then went back to the kitchen to clean up the mess.

She was not one to use magic for mundane things that she could do herself, but this time, she made an exception. She was not going to clean up this mess by hand. She spelled the kitchen clean with a wave of her hand, then returned to the living room and her two dumba**es.

She knew their stomachs were probably feeling a bit queasy, so she cheerfully offered them something to help.

"Here, have some Sprite, it will settle your stomachs!"

*Symphony of groans*

#the witcher #the witcher netflix #twn #the witcher headcanon #the witcher modern au #geralt #geralt of rivia #jaskier #julian alfred pankratz #yennefer #yennefer of vengerberg #geraskier #geraskefer #geraskifer #yenralt #yennskier #yenskier #yennaskier #yenneskier #error 404 brain not found headcanon #error 404 headcanon #brain not found headcanon

[jessiexcorner]

‘Destiny is she.’

Kerack.

 Just a small town with not much going for it, though it was known for its alcohol and the pirates that used to raid the people there centuries ago. 'Not anymore.' Yennefer thought as she drank. After the red death, the once-powerful kingdom fell into shambles. At least they still had their beer going on for them.

"TOSS A COIN TO YOUR WITCHER!" Yennefer winced, hearing the familiar song buzzing in the back.

  "Ugh. If I have to hear that blasted song one more time, I'm going to kill myself." Yennefer turned to see the drunk bard who wrote it.

  "Jaskier?" He turned his head to look up to see the sorceress. He gasped.

  "You! Oh No! I've had enough of you! Y-you harlot witch!" Yennefer rolled her eyes. 

"What? Your girlfriend dumped or something? Also, I'm a sorceress, not a witch."

"No, you ruined my friendship with my only friend! Just cause you had problems in your relationship with him didn't mean you had to ruin mine!"

"We didn't have a relationship."

"It doesn't matter now! I don't need him; I have plenty of friends. And women who want me!" Yennefer turned to order another drink. She didn't want to deal with this right now. A few gulps later, a young girl with blonde hair walked straight toward them.

"Hey! I know you!"

"You do? Oh no. Did I sleep with you?" The girl ignored Jaskier and continued talking to Yennefer.

"You're Yennefer of Vengeberg, aren't you?" Yennefer sighed.

"Look, kid, I don't sell magic anymore. Find someone else."

"Actual, I have a proposition for you."

"Not interested."

"I think you will be-"

"Get lost, kid, before I put a curse on you."

"Weren't you the one looking for a way to conceive?" Yennefer froze. Yes, it's true; that is what she wanted a way to be able to have a child again. But it's not as if she announced it to the world.

"Who told you that?" The girl shrugged with a smug smile.

"Call her destiny." Yennefer scoffed.

"Destiny?" The young girl nodded.

"Everyone knows about her. There's a legend on her. They say that if you ever want to change all the bad that has been done to you; change the fate you've been given, then follow the river upstream to the cottage in the woods. There be a woman, full of grace and beauty, but be careful what is said to her for destiny is she."

"First of all," the drunk bard who had been listening in began, "that doesn't rhyme."

"It's not supposed-" the blonde tried to argue.

"Second of all, who's 'they'?"

"What? No- Look, that doesn't matter, I'm not even talking to you!"

"You know he has a point," Yennefer said.

"Huh?"

"Who is this 'they'?" She said with a cheeky smile. The blonde girl turned redder than the drunken bard and stomped in anger.

"You know what! I don't care! I did what She told me to do and delivered the message! I'm leaving!" She marched out of the bar.

"Say, did you catch her name? I think she fancies me." Jaskier mumbled. Yennefer took a deep breath and finished her drink. 'let's find out who this destiny person is.' She thought, heading out.

                                                       . . .

'Well, what do you know there is a house.' Yennefer thought. She noticed there was a protection spell around the house covering it like a thick fog. She walked towards the house, trying to create a pathway for herself. 'Damn,' This was harder than she thought it would be. 'Why would anyone need such a potent protection spell?' As she tried to move through, it became harder to breathe. Yennefer could feel a headache coming on, it felt as if something was pushing her to fall asleep. She falls and gets knocked out by the gas. Before she falls completely unconscious she notices the end of a flowy robe walking towards her.

Yennefer wakes up feeling as if she has the worst hangover of her life, she notices a blanket covering her and a bed. "What the fuck?" she mutters noticing her surroundings for the first time. A bedroom with a fireplace, cozy and warm but what stuck out the most was the fact she didn't remember how she got here. The door to the bedroom opens before Yennefer can investigate her surroundings more thoroughly.

"Ah, you're not dead. Good." a woman with (h/c) hair wearing a simple white flowy gown exclaims. Yennefer startled immediately turns defensive shooting a gust of magic toward the woman who waves it off as if it were nothing, almost as if, annoyed by Yennefer's reaction.

"Now, is this any way to repay hospitality Yennefer?" The woman says practically scolding Yennefer like a misbehaving child.

"You knocked me out!"

"No, you knocked yourself out." She sat next to the violet-eyed woman, raising her hand near her making Yennefer flinch from the unexpected movement. 

"Relax, I'm only helping your body get rid of the poison from the mist." She sighs moving away after she is done, Yennefer does feel a bit better, less like she had a massive hangover. The woman stands and walks near the fireplace, lighting it with a flick of her fingers, sitting down on a couch with a tea set on a table. "Well? come sit," She points at the other chair meant for Yennefer. Yennefer gets up and slowly walks to the woman sitting on the chair. "Cream?" She offers the raven-haired woman.

"..No," Yennefer declines not wanting any other foreign substances in her body.

"Suit yourself." The woman shrugs, pouring some cream for herself, and lifts her cup taking a sip.

"Why did you want me here?"

"Oh, did my little birdy not tell you?"

"No, well, yes but- that's not- look do you really have a way for me to conceive or are you playing games with me? Because i should warn you i am not in the mood." Yennefer huffs.

"Of course!" The (h/c) haired woman claps her hands making the tea set disappear, with a small vial and a contract replacing it. "This little bottle of magic can bring back anything that was lost. It'll fix you right up, grow back your uterus, and let you keep your good looks," She winks with a smile at Yennefer, who looks at the paper carefully.  

"And I’m guessing this contract I am supposed to sign ensures I do your bidding?" The stranger's grin widens.

"Clever girl. it is fair, after all, i am only asking very little in return for a high reward." Yennefer scoffed but then again she was desperate she wanted this, badly.

"And what would that small favor be?" She questions the woman. "Am i to find you someone and bring them to you?" she rolls her eyes sarcastically commenting.

"Well, yes, that is exactly what I want you to do."

"Right. Sounds simple enough."

"Hm, simple." she hums in agreement, "I just need you to bring me Geralt of Rivia."

...What? "No, no! Absolutely not! What could you possibly need him for?" Yennefer protests, making the other woman rolled her eyes.

"I'm not going to eat him, or kill your lover boy,"

"He's not-"

"Come on Yen! All you have to do is bring one witcher here, and I'll give you the ability to conceive again, don't you want that choice back?" The woman circles Yennefer, "They took everything from you, yen. They took your right, your decision. Not only am i offering you your freedom, but i am also giving you an option that doesn't require sacrificing your beauty or power." She twirls a lock of Yennefer's hair around her fingers. "and all you have to do is bring me one measly man." Yennefer hesitates. This can't be real, this had to be a trick, but what could she do? the dragon plan didn't work, Geralt was an arse and she had nothing and no one left. "Tell you what, since you have so many issues with me," The woman picks up the vial and hands it to Yennefer. "You can try the potion of mine, and once it works, and it will believe me you will know if it does. You will bring me Geralt." Yennefer's face reads of worry. "Come on you, poor girl, what do you have to lose? You already tried everything. What, you're worried about your man? What do you think I will do to the witcher? Think I will kill him? He's more likely to end me before I can touch him." Yennefer lets the words of this woman influence her, but she couldn't understand what she wanted with Geralt.

"..Fine, deal, if this works...I'll bring you your witcher."

"Lovely!" The woman smiles waving her hand making a feather appear and floats into Yennefer's hand. Yennefer pauses, feeling the softness of the feather. 

"...Before I sign this, I want to know your name, your real name. I have a feeling it isn't 'destiny'" The woman chuckles once again walking behind Yennefer, placing her soft hands onto her shoulders.

"(Y/n), a pleasure to meet you, Yennefer."

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