#the witcher the bard and their guardian angel

[wren-of-the-woods]

I hear you're where to go for Witcher fic recs! How about some with Geralt being protective over Jaskier? Shippy, if you can find any, but I wouldn't mind platonic! I just want Geralt to look out for his bard. Thank you for your time!

Hello!! Here's what I've got! There's a wide variety of settings and levels of angst, so hopefully there should be something for everone :D

As always, please feel free to add more recs or promote your own work in the notes!

~

Don't Leave Me by @geraskierficrecs (Rated M, 6.2k)

Jaskier’s hands tighten around Geralt before slowly losing their grip, spasming where they fall limp. “Ger--geralt--” “Don’t you dare,” he snarls back, “Don’t you dare try to give me your fucking goodbyes. You are not dying.” “S--silly man.” Jaskier’s smile is full of painful fondness. “Would you fight death for me?” Geralt swings him up into his arms and nearly weeps at the sound of familiar hooves running in his direction. “Every. Fucking. Time.”

If You Give a Bard a Lute by @ghostinthelibrarywrites (Rated T, 10k)

After Jaskier’s father disowns him, confiscates all his possessions— including Filavandrel’s lute— and kicks him out with nothing but the clothes on his back, Jaskier spends a long, hungry winter barely surviving. When he reunites with Geralt in the spring, his witcher is determined to get his lute back, even if it means recruiting his fellow witchers to stage a heist.

Wild Blue Yonder by @jaskierswolf (Rated T, 5.3k)

Geralt's bookshop is slowly falling apart and he's ready to give up when Jaskier wanders into the store

remember me I sing by @echo-bleu (Rated G, 3.1k - also includes Yennnefer)

Filavandrel's gift was so much more than a simple lute. It seemed fitting, that Jaskier’s soul would be made of wood and strings and beautiful sounds. The problem is that now Rience has his lute and is threatening to burn it if they don't hand over Ciri. And Jaskier has never told anyone that his very life is tied to his beloved instrument.

This Is How I Disappear by @stacyholmes (Rated T, 5.4k)

Jaskier keeps texting unknown number. Geralt keeps reading said texts without answering.

The Footsteps We Follow by thiswildheart (Rated T, 16.5k)

Look, Jaskier's got a lot going on. He's painfully aware that there are cataclysmic events happening and that the troubled teenager he knows might save the world or speed along the end of days. He's also in love with a man who's never even admitted that they're friends, which is almost as bad. Oh, and he's still working as the Sandpiper, only now a terrifying eldritch creature has entrusted him with the Song of the Seven to give hope to the elves and help them fight back against their oppression. It's probably the bravest thing he's ever done, but not everyone sees it that way. Luckily he knows some people who excel at last minute rescues. ... then he just has to figure out how to tell Geralt why so many people are trying to kill him. This is going to go great.

Getting Warmer (orphaned) (Rated T, 8.2k) 

Injured and freezing after a kikimora hunt gone wrong, Geralt and Jaskier must wait out a thunderstorm at the bottom of a cliff, huddling for warmth. It is here that Geralt finally confronts his feelings for the bard.

Jaskier and Mountains Just Don't Mix by C4t1l1n4 (Rated G, 3.8k)

Despite the other Witchers' positive reaction to Geralt's bard, Vesemir is reluctant to have a human stay with them at Kaer Morhen so Jaskier attempts to leave and ends up almost freezing to death on the side of the mountain. Hypothermia fic

Immediately, I Love Him (He's Doing His Best) by @hum-my-name (Rated G, 26.5k)

"In which Greg is some sort of guardian angel, I don't know" <><> A few days ago, Joey Batey did an interview in which he created a lovely little character named Greg. A few days ago, I decided to write a cute little thing about Greg and Jaskier being the best of friends throughout the years, with a dash of Geralt and Jaskier friendship as a treat. 13k words later, here we are. Enjoy.

Broken Mirror by happy_hermit (Rated G, 2.1k) 

To Geralt’s credit, he waits until they’re well away from Kaer Morhen to ask the question. He also waits until Yennefer and Ciri have gone to bed, which makes the whole thing feel a bit too calculated for Jaskier’s liking, which is to say that he doesn’t like it at all. “Where’s your lute, Jaskier?” Jaskier doesn’t quite flinch, though his heart does something of the sort all on its own. It is very much a wound that hasn’t healed; as is most of him, these days.

Echo by @kingthunder (Rated E, 29.5k)

Jaskier loses his voice the morning after a concert. As he and Geralt find new ways to fill the silence between them, they realize it isn't only Jaskier's voice that's been lost—and getting it back will bring them closer than they've ever been before.

If There's Any Sleep At Night by @smolalienbee (Rated T, 22.8k)

The mare is but a silhouette of a human and yet at his words something passes through her expression - whether it’s surprise, joy, fear, Geralt doesn’t know. But it’s clear that what he said has struck her in some way. (“She is not some mindless monster, Geralt.” He remembers Jaskier’s words.) A mare, also known as a mara or a zmora - a malicious entity, a bringer of nightmares and a demon of the night. An easy enough contract to fulfill, if only frustrating, or at least that’s what Geralt believes when he first sets out to hunt down one such mare. What he doesn’t expect is to be wrapped up in a tale of a wronged soul, of love and of joy.

Also, because I'm not above reccing my own fics, here's a few I've written!

Wash Away the Blood and Tears by me (Rated T, 1.8k)

Jaskier re-injures his fingers while distracting Nilfgaard from Ciri. Afterward, Geralt volunteers to help wash his hair. Or: In which Jaskier gets a bath and a nap, and Geralt gets a new role in the group.

We'll Build a Den Out of Pillows (And Get Drunk Again) by me (Rated G, 2k)

Jaskier gets sick. When Geralt asks how to help, Jaskier jokingly suggests that he build a pillow fort. He does not expect Geralt to take it seriously. Geralt takes it seriously.

~

If you want more, there’s a Protective Geralt tag on AO3 that I’m sure has many lovely works I haven’t read!

(You can also find my other reclists here)

#wren recs #geraskier #geralt #jaskier #the witcher #the witcher fic recs #witcher #reclists #twn #asks #anon #am i getting a reputation? how fun! #i guess y'all are catching onto the fact that i have no self-restraing when it comes to reclists lol

[direw00f]

Yo! Blind Guardian is amazing! (This my main blog, @poll-tourney-enjoyer is a side blog I have for, well, poll tourneys lol)

They are the best in concert. My (now) wife introduced me to them, with a concert of theirs being our first actual date. I hadn't heard them before the day of the concert, but I cried hearing The Bard's Song there that night. My next planned tattoo is some lyrics from it.

Not sure if you are a gamer, but if so, you should try to track down Sacred 2: Fallen Angel. BG did the theme song, there's an in-game concert of that song, and you get to quest with Hansi for a bit leading up to it.

Fly is great! I'm partial to Skalds and Shadows from that album. I hope you have a blast at the concert!

Hi! A great first date if I ever say so haha, I got introduced to them by my oldest brother with the Bard's Song of course. My dad then introduced me to Ayreon with The Day That The World Breaks Down so I recognised Hansi immediately. I have heard him sing live before with the Ayreon Live Beneath The Waves concert and I was at the front row just blown away by his power.

I am a big gamer indeed and I do know about Sacred Worlds and the quest they have in Sacred 2, I do want to play the game for myself. I do love the song they did for one of my favourite video games (and book series the song is mostly about the books) The Witcher series. Blood Of The Elves is actually my alarm and I really should continue reading the books but I have read the song's namesake.

Thank you and Skalds and Shadows is amazing too I really love the acoustic ballads that Blind Guardian have they're always so beautiful. I decided to finally listen to Nightfall In Middle Earth and was absolutely blown away. The Eldar is one of the most beautiful songs I have ever heard, the first time I heard it I just had their complete discography playlist on and I was getting something to drink. So I stood there in the kitchen with a glass of water in my hand just stunned by the beauty of the song. I appreciate you stopping by my blog I do not post often but that might change now.

#wolf speaks #blind guardian #it is great to talk to you

[jaskierswolf]

The Witcher, The Bard and Their Guardian Angel Pt.1/4

(Other parts will be linked on my pinned Masterlist/AO3 - TW: Graphic violence, Canon-typical but still a bit nasty)

“Fuck!”

Geralt jumped back and dove into a roll to avoid the swooping talons of the griffin, but he was too late. The talons had already caught him in the chest, piercing his armour as if it were butter. Blood was already soaking into the black leather of his chest plate. He gritted his teeth and gripped his sword tighter. The potions were dulling the pain of the wound but he could tell by the amount of blood dripping from the gash that it wasn’t good. The air moved above him, and he moved his fingers quickly to form Aard. The pulse of kinetic energy knocked the griffin from the sky and quicker than any human could track his sword was buried into the poor beast’s brain. The griffin pulsated on the ground as it gave one last dying screech.

Geralt sighed and collapsed down next to it.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled to the dead creature.

It had been terrorising the path just outside Vergen which had forced the alderman to hire a witcher. He’d been the unlucky sod to pick up the contract. He’d scouted the area and discovered that the human villagers had killed the griffin’s mate as a trophy. The remaining griffin had sought revenge and the dwarves had practically bribed the alderman to post the contract to hire a witcher. Even then the bastard hadn’t offered Geralt the full amount, he’d kept back half of the dwarves’ coin for himself.

Geralt pressed his hand to his chest. The blood was oozing quickly from the wound, too quickly even for his witcher healing.

“Shit!” He gasped.

The pain was still numbed but the fight was done. The griffin was dead, humanity protected as was his job, but this time he wasn’t getting paid. He didn’t bother cutting off the head of the griffin. He wouldn’t make it in time. There was no point in mutilating and humiliating the beast any further. He could neck back another potion to help the healing but his toxicity was already too high, another potion would do more damage and kill him faster.

He half stumbled, half crawled back to Roach. She whinnied when she saw him and trotted over until he was able to sling his arm around her neck.

“I know, I’m a mess.” He croaked as they slowly hobbled back towards the town. He wondered how far he would get before the blood loss caught up with him, before the toxicity in his blood stopped masking his looming death. “I think I’ve bitten off more than I can chew this time Roach. Got too slow.”

He coughed and choked up blood into his hands. “Fuck.” He groaned and slumped down to the floor. His vision was spotted and unfocussed. He didn’t have long now, but at least he had Roach. His trusted companion.

“Hurts less than I expected.” He slurred. “Got the potions to thank for that I guess.”

Roach reared and whinnied loudly, tugging away from him in a panic. The stench of his blood had probably become too much for her and she bolted. He was too weak to use Axii to calm her down so he let her go.

“Guess we do all die alone.” He laughed weakly before he choked on another coughing fit.

His vision faded to black as he eyes fluttered shut for the last time.

____________

Jaskier was whistling a new song under his breath. He hadn’t managed to work out the lyrics yet but the he couldn’t stop dreaming of the melody just before he fell properly asleep each night. His lute case was strapped to his back as he walked along the dusty path. The villagers had warned him not to go, especially not alone, but he had sung too many times at the taverns in Vergen and the coin was shit, once the food started flying he decided it was time to leave.

No griffin was going to stop him. He had a dagger tucked into his boots for the more nefarious human types but he doubted it would be very effective against a beast like a griffin. He was secretly hoping to see the creature, at least from a distance. He’d never seen one up close before and he could only imagine how magnificent and regal they were.

He was startled as a bay horse came charging onto the path. The horse was saddled but there was no sign of a rider. The horse was clearly distressed as she stamped her feet and whinnied restlessly in a circle around him. After a few attempts he managed to catch the reins and slowly steady her to a walk. He pulled a slightly mouldy apple from his pants, a gift from his latest performance in Vergen. The horse sniffed it indignantly but took his peace offering.

“Hello there.” He cooed as he patted her mane as gently as possible. “Where’s your rider, hey?”

The horse whinnied and stamped her feet, tugging at the reins back in the direction she'd ran from.

Jaskier frowned and blew his fringe from his eyes. “You want me to follow you?”

The horse pulled harder at the reins and Jaskier stumbled off the path. He licked his lips as he contemplated what to do. He was a confident rider but he knew that mounting a horse when they were so distressed was not a good idea.

“Oh fuck it. Look, horsey, I’m going to just hop on up alright? And then you can lead me to wherever your rider is.” Jaskier cooed at the horse.

She didn’t immediately run away so Jaskier put one foot in the stirrups and hauled himself up onto the horse. He almost overshot and landed on his ass the other side of the horse. It had been a long time since he’d last ridden a horse, not since his lessons as a boy.

He grumbled under his breath at the memory and managed to steady himself. No sooner was he in the saddle than the horse lurched underneath him and they were galloping off into the wilderness.

“Oh bollocks!” He groaned as he gripped the horse tightly with his thighs. “Be gentle with me, horsey.”

They hadn’t been riding long, although it felt like a century to Jaskier’s tender arse, when the horse slowed to a trot and Jaskier spied a body in the road.

“Fuck!” He hurried to dismount from the horse but caught his foot in the stirrup and fell onto his arse with a yelp.

It was a witcher. More than that, it was Geralt of Rivia. He’d heard of the silver-haired witcher, the Butcher of Blaviken.

He ran to the wounded witcher’s side and rolled the man onto his back with a grunt. He was heavier than he looked, and still breathing, just about.

Jaskier hauled the witcher onto the horse. It wasn’t easy but the horse seemed to understand what he wanted to do and stayed still. Geralt draped over the saddle like a dead body but Jaskier couldn’t think of a better solution. The man needed a healer, a mage and quickly. Jaskier pulled at the horses reins and ran beside the horse as he led them both back to the village. He screamed for help as he approached the first row of houses.

“I need a healer!” He cried. “Or a mage!”

The human villagers wouldn’t look him in the eye as he passed them.

“You bastards!” He yelled indignantly. “He saved your weak human asses and this is how you repay him?! Melitele help us all.”

“In here.” A nearby dwarf waved him down. “We have healers. I’ll send one of the lads to find you a mage.”

Jaskier slumped under Geralt’s weight but managed to pull him into the building. It was… a tavern? But not one he’d been in before and he could instantly see why. The tavern was filled with dwarves and other non-humans only. They must not normally allow the humans into this one.

“Thank you.” He said breathlessly as Geralt was laid on the nearest table.

“A friend?” The dwarf asked.

Jaskier laughed and shook his head. “Never met him before.”

There wasn’t much speaking after that. Jaskier was ushered out of the tavern whilst the dwarven healers got to work. After a few more minutes a tall man in flowing robes pushed past him into the tavern.

The mage.

Jaskier sat with the horse outside of the tavern, stroking her mane and telling her all about his day to the tune of his newest song. The words didn’t fit properly and the rhymes were dodgy but the singing helped his nerves. He didn’t know why he stayed. He didn’t even know the witcher.

They were strangers.

And yet, here he was.

He couldn’t bring himself to leave until he knew the witcher’s fate.

He sat outside the tavern, plucking half written melodies from his lute strings until dusk fell over Vergen and the tavern door flung open behind him. He jumped up with an undignified squawk and turned to face the tall, dark skinned mage. His eyes were a rich warm brown, the most beautiful brown eyes that Jaskier had even seen. Jaskier felt as if he could fall into the abyss of those eyes. The mage’s hair was mostly covered by his hood but Jaskier noted the beginnings of beautiful intricate braids in the shadows of the hood.

He was unbelievably handsome.

The mage watched him intently for a few minutes without moving or speaking. Jaskier was helpless to do anything but bask in the enchanting gaze of the mage.

“You owe me a debt, bard.” The mage eventually said cooly. “I saved your witcher’s life. A life debt is owed.”

Jaskier’s hands gripped tighter onto his lute and his chewed on his bottom lip as he contemplated the mage’s words. He nodded slowly. “Right.” He drew the word out, buying time as he gathered the right words to say that would cause him the least problems later on. “Well. If you were a witcher you could call the law of surprise.”

“But I am not.” The mage smirked.

Jaskier shook his head. “No. No you’re not. Why isn’t it Geralt that owes you? It’s his life?”

The mage laughed quietly. “Your witcher was ready to die, bard. It was you that called me here. Not him.”

Jaskier nodded. “So my debt.” He surmised. “I mean, I didn’t exactly know I was offering up a life debt here. So what about a song?” He tried to bargain.

“I will collect my debt in time, bard.” The mage began to wave his hands and Jaskier’s hairs stood up on the back of his neck as the air crackled around them. “My name is Mihangel. Remember it, Julian.”

The mage, Mihangel, passed him a heavy sack that was blood soaked and dripping at the bottom then stepped through a portal and vanished from Vergen.

“Oh cock!” Jaskier swore.

Taglist (Let me know if you want to be added): @alwenarin @slythnerd @davidtennan-t @flippinfricks

#the witcher #geraskier #geraskier fanfiction #geralt of rivia #jaskier pankratz #geralt whump #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #geralt/jaskier #the witcher the bard and their guardian angel #wolfie's witcher writing

[jiejie-eonni-onee-sama]

Put your wings on me...

For the lovely @fandoms-are-my-friends-1321 🤩🤩

Hope you’ll enjoy the story!

TW: Mentions of past abuse.

On the road to other adventures, Geralt, Dandelion, and (Y / N) took advantage of being alone during their journey to rest a little before facing new dangers. 

(Y / N), their new adventure companion belonged to the fairy people. Her mastery of magic and pleasant character struck a perfect balance between the shadowy witcher and the talkative bard.

And the duo appreciates her company, especially Jaskier, who falls head over heels for her.

But what fascinated the young bard the most was the young woman's immense wings. Two wide ebony black wings that could obscure the sun when deployed.

One day, as they stopped near a forest for eating, (Y/N) extended her wings to be at ease. The same wings that amaze the bard since the first day he met the fae.

Geralt noticed that his friend can't take his eyes off of (Y/N), and he growled:

"Damn it, Jaskier! Stop staring at her like that!"

"Oh, leave me alone, Geralt! You can't understand the enchantment of her wings!"

"I certainly understand that it'll bring you into trouble... As always!"

The young man pretended not to hear and tempted, he extended a hand to the wings and gently touched the dark feathers. They were so soft and delicate as silk. Although he felt their strength and their might.

However, this sudden touch did not please (Y/N) who jumped out of her place, shrieking with fear:

"WHAT WAS THAT?"

Startled, Jaskier felt from his place, while Geralt stayed silent surprised by the sudden outburst.

Once she felt better, she turned a furious glance at Jaskier:

"Why did you touch my wings?"

"Well... Because..."

Jaskier was stammering: the most talkative musician of the country was unable to formulate a sentence. Probably because he never saw her angry like this. 

Geralt sighed: he knew that it would happen. But Jaskier was so stubborn that he did not listen...

Meanwhile, (Y/N) was still enraged towards the bard. How dare he touch her wings? How did he think he was?

"No one ever touched my wings! NO ONE!"

"But (Y/N), I swear that I mean no harm..."

"That's not very helpful, Jaskier!"

"Please, Geralt, don't make it worse!"

The fae darted her eyes on the witcher.

"And you let him do it?!"

"I just wanted him to know what would happen if he dared!"

(Y/N) was surprised.

"Wait a minute... You did not tell him?"

"Tell me what?" asked the bard.

Geralt sighed before negatively shaking his head.

"Oh, no..." she groaned.

"Can somebody explain to me what's going on?" asked Jaskier, irritated.

Geralt started to explain:

"Well, as you're not familiar with the fairy people, I forgot to tell you that their wings are extremely sensitive!"

"Really?"

"You've seen it by yourself: she felt your fingers on the feathers, even if you barely graze them!"

"So... Was her reaction only based on self-defense? A natural response to potential danger?"

(Y/N) bit her lip, embarrassed.

"This is not the only explanation for my reaction, Jaskier."

"Oh?"

She breathed before explaining:

"A long time ago, before I met you, I was in love with a human. A man named Argen. We loved each other for years..."

She dryly smiled.

"I should say: I thought he loved me. But, one day, while I was sleeping, I felt a sharp pain in my back. I woke up, and I saw Argen with his knife in his hand..."

Jaskier saw all the pain she tried to contain as she pursued her story:

"It did not take me long to understand what he was doing. He tried to sever my wings..."

"Why he did that?" asked Geralt, visibly shocked.

"That's what I begged him to explain. He coldly told me that he wanted to be sure I would never leave him. Moreover, he heard that his king promised a reward for those who would bring him a part of a magical creature..."

"What a monster!" muttered Jaskier.

"What did you do?"

"I was so enraged... I deeply scratched his face and broke his limbs. After that, I flew away, and I swore to never come back nor see him again!"

(Y/N) wiped away the tears that start falling and concluded:

"It is the reason that I do not want anyone else to touch my wings. It always brings me back those frightening memories!"

"I understand now..." mumbled the witcher.

As for Jaskier, he stood silent a long time. 

Ashamed, the fae said to him:

"I am sorry for yelling at you, Jaskier. I thought that..."

"Don't."

Geralt and (Y/N) were taken aback by the sudden answer.

"Don't what?"

The bard gazed firmly at her:

"Don't say you're sorry. I should be the one apologizing to you right now. I hurt you, and I'm remorseful. Furthermore, I acted poorly towards you. Even if your wings are as astonishing and beautiful as you, I should have asked you first if you allow me to touch them! So, I'm sorry if I acted as crudely as this despicable Argen. I hope you will forgive me!"

The fae faintly smiled: she knew enough Jaskier to understand that his intentions towards her were pure, and all of this was based on a misunderstanding.

"Don't worry, young bard. I already forgive you!"

"What a relief!" breathed Jaskier.

"You're lucky it ends well!" added Geralt.

"Geralt, why do you always kill the mood?" 

The fae laughed at the bickering between the two friends. Then, she told the bard:

"Now that everything is clear... You can touch my wings!"

"That's very nice of you (Y/N), but I must decline. I don't want you to feel forced to do so. Maybe later, when you feel ready!"

"Alright, I'll wait. Thank you!"

"You're welcome!"

A few days later.

In the tavern they settled down in for the night, Jaskier prepared himself to go to bed.  As he opened the door, he realized his mistake as he saw (Y/N) brushing her hair.

"Oh, sorry! Wrong bedroom!"

"It's alright, you can come here..."

"Well, if you allow me..." muttered the bard as he closed the door behind him.

With a warm smile, the fae stretched her arms and opened her wings.

"Oh, dear Lord!" gasped Jaskier.

He wanted to reach them but stopped before. With a shy voice, he asked:

"Will you allow me to touch your wings?"

"Permission granted!"

Widely smiling, Jaskier started skimming the soft feathers. His touch was gentle, which relaxed the fae.

The bard pursued his touch until he felt a wing surrounding him in a welcoming gesture. Amazed, he looked back at (Y/N).

"You know, in my opinion, your wings are a gift from above!"

"Really?"

"Yes, because... When you hold me like this, I feel like an angel protects me!"

(Y/N) beamed with a slight blush on her cheeks.

"I'm glad to be your angel!"

"And I'm glad that the said angel put her wings on me. This is the sweetest proof of trust you ever give me!"

He held her hand.

"Thank you for giving me your faith!"

"Thank you for respecting my worries and giving time!"

The two stayed like this, enjoying the company of each other in this room lit by candles.

For this day, (Y/N) wasn't scared anymore that someone else brushed her wings as she savored the gentle caress of Jaskier on her ebony feathers. He was her savior, she was his guardian fae...

Thank you for reading!

I hope you enjoyed!

See you next time! 🥰😘😍

#requests #the witcher #geralt of rivia #jaskier dandelion #henry cavill #joey batey #angelina jolie

[jaskiersvalley]

TITLE: Wings of Destiny

AUTHOR/ARTIST: @jaskiersvalley

PROMPT DAY #: #7 Destiny

SUMMARY: Every time Jaskier spoke about destiny, he said “those linked by destiny will always find each other”. Everyone else said “people linked...” which hurt Geralt. Did Jaskier not see him as a person?

WORD COUNT (if applicable): ~2k

BOOKS/NETFLIX/2002 SHOW/VIDEO GAME: Netflix show

TRIGGERS/WARNINGS: None.

RATING: Teen and up.

ADDITIONAL NOTES: Written as part of @geraskierweek.

For all the claims about Witchers and their abilities, it took Geralt an embarrassingly long time to notice things about Jaskier. And an even longer period to actually figure out what it all meant. Though, to be fair, he didn’t so much figure it out as more that he got smacked in the face by it.

Some things, Geralt could almost excuse himself for not noticing. Jaskeir was a bard with ineffable whims and plans. He came and went as he pleased, flitting in and out of Geralt’s life with an almost supernatural sense of when things were going wrong. It was the cause of that argument on the mountain. Geralt, tired, frustrated and hurt, took his rage out on his longest standing friend, just because he had shit timing. It wasn’t right, it wasn’t fair. After that Jaskier disappeared for a year. There were murmurs of him, songs sung that he’d left behind but Geralt couldn’t seem to catch up with him.

Destiny did though and suddenly Geralt had custody of his orphaned Child Surprise. When she told him, with all the serious wisdom of a child that “those linked by destiny will always find each other,” it made Geralt pause mid motion.

“What did you say?” So Ciri repeated herself. “No, it’s people linked by destiny.”

“That’s not what I was taught.” Which could only mean one thing. While Geralt had been busy pretending his Child Surprise didn’t exist, Jaskier had spent enough time with her to teach her his own stupid little phrase. It was another reason Geralt was so angry with him. Because, deep down, he knew that despite all the shit he’d spewed about Destiny, it effect him. Destiny impacted on his life as much as anyone else’s. And Jaskier knew that too. But whenever he said that stupid phrase, emphasising the “those” rather than saying “people” while looking at Geralt meaningfully, it made Geralt’s heart twist. He knew most didn’t consider him a person, a Witcher was an outsider, a mutant. To hear Jaskier dehumanise him like that burned.

As things tended to go, Geralt and Ciri were on the run, pursued even as they tried to get to Kaer Morhen for safety. That was when Geralt quite literally tripped over Jaskier. Or rather, Jaskier’s lute. He hefted it up, surprised by its weight and eyed the bard who had been doing who knew what by those bushes. Probably foraging if the berries and leaves in his hands were anything to go by.

“Geralt,” he greeted, a little cold and wary.

“Bard.”

“Jaskier!” Ciri squealed and ran at him with a jump into his arms. All the carefully picked berries went flying as Jaskier scrambled to catch her. By way of apology, Ciri invited him to travel with them, a knowing “those linked by destiny” bullshit making her lips curl up. To make matters worse, Jaskier smiled at her and accepted the offer of travelling together.

Which was when Geralt noticed the second strange thing. Jaskier liked to carry his heavy lute on his back. Not slung over one shoulder, not resting on a strap and bouncing against his belly. Fully on his back like some strange bag. It wasn’t up to Geralt to question it though, it was probably some strange custom Jaskier had seen on his travels and decided to imitate.

They had enough coin for a room. And a bath. It had been pouring it down with rain, the three of them were soaking wet and drenched in mud. At least Ciri was just wet rather than muddy as she had been given the privilege of riding on Roach.

“You both smell. Go take a bath,” she ordered haughtily from under the furs. There was a knowing look in her eye and Geralt didn’t put up much of a fight.

“I’ll wash your back,” Jaskier offered softly. He even pulled out a couple of salts and oils from his bag.

They didn’t argue about how this was going to go. Old habits were easy to fall back into. Geralt bathed first, Jaskier helped him wash, pulled filth out of his hair and scrubbed his back. Once Geralt was done, he left Jaskier to wash himself. The bard was never covered in filth like he was, so didn’t need help, his hair never so messy he couldn’t deal with it by himself.

When Geralt returned to their room, freshly clean, he was greeted by Ciri’s glare.

“Why don’t you help Jaskier?” Voice accusing and displeased, she had Geralt returning the the tub room very quickly.

“Need a hand?” He rumbled as he stepped back into the room. Opposite him, Jaskier yanked his shirt back down with wide eyes.

“No, thank you.”

The words and actions screamed of guilt though and Geralt frowned. All these years, he hadn’t seen Jaskier naked. Or even shirtless. Despite the number of times Geralt had been nude or partially undressed around him. What was Jaskier hiding?

“Ciri said I should help.”

“Ciri isn’t the boss of you. I’m quite fine, thank you.” Terse and succinct, Geralt could almost feel the unease and rolling off Jaskier.

“I’m not defying my Child Surprise and risking her wrath.”

Sighing in defeat, Jaskier could agree with that statement. “Very well. But turn away.”

Obedient, Geralt turned his back to Jaskier and listened to the clothes being taken off, the water sloshing as Jaskier stepped into it and bite down on a groan. Curiosity got the better of Geralt and he peered over his shoulder.

No matter how much he looked, Jaskier looked...well, normal. He’d expected some horrifying deformity or scar which the bard might be shy about but there was none of that.

The sound of approaching footsteps made Jaskier’s eyes shoot open. He watched with a small amount of fear as the Witcher approached.

“Geralt.” There was a warning in his voice but it went ignored.

“Let me wash your back.”

Geralt sat behind the tub and waited for Jaskier to lean forward. He wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Slowly, reluctantly and hesitantly, Jaskier pulled away from the edge of the tub.

On his back were two long lines. Geralt had dismembered enough winged creatures to know what he was seeing. But it didn’t make sense. Jaskier was no harpy, no dragon.

“I’m sorry.” The words from Jaskier startled him and he gave a curious “hmm” to encourage him to keep talking. When no words came forth from the usually verbose bard, Geralt took matters into his own hand.

“What are you?”

It took a minute for Jaskier to answer, voice soft and hoarse. “An angel. Or rather, a fallen one.” More silence but Geralt began to wash his back, waiting for the story to continue. “I was a guardian angel. And I failed. Got distracted by the choir, took my eyes off my charge. In that time, he was abandoned to a fate cruel and harsh. His mother, under the influence of a demon, allowed her son to be left, to me mutated into something else, embark on a path Fate hoped would never happen.”

Geralt drew in a breathe, hoping he wasn’t understanding it right. Because if he was...

“I was cast out and Destiny linked me to who was my charge. To witness my mistake and try and ease it in any way I could. See, those linked by destiny will always find each other.”

It finally clicked and Geralt closed his eyes against the onslaught of emotions he didn’t even have words for. Jaskier had never dehumanised him, he was referring to himself all along. The lute was heavy, probably a similar weight to the wings he missed so much. And destiny had them linked, it was why Jaskier showed up in his life so often. Probably to mitigate some disaster. He didn’t make life more difficult for Geralt, he made it easier. All this was crowned off with what sounded like eons of guilt at failing. At seeing the choir and wanting to join rather than protect some child. Fate was cruel to have allowed him to fall and become a bard.

Geralt didn’t know what to say. How to absolve Jaskier. Because it wasn’t alright, his life as a Witcher was not an easy one and, especially at the start, Geralt had raged against the powers that be for the hand he had been given in life. But it wasn’t all bad, he got so much out of it, some things he would never trade. Like a bard who didn’t seem to age, a Child Surprise who knew everything better. That was a thought, she probably did know about this.

“Ciri?”

“She knows. Some aren’t destined to be kept in the shadows of not knowing.”

Nodding, Geralt returned to washing Jaskier’s back, fingers gentle over the long healed scars, massaging phantom pains from the muscles around them. He didn’t claim to understand many things in life, rebelled against destiny and fate at every turn he could. But it had brought Jaskier into his life and, for that, he was grateful.

#geraskier #geralt #geralt of rivia #jaskier #ciri #the witcher #geraskier week #angel!jaskier #tldr: jaskier was geralt's guardian angel but messed up

[ao3feed-geralt-jaskier]

by SweetestHoney

Jaskier has known Geralt all his life, he considers the gruff and taciturn man his guardian angel since Geralt always seems to pop up whenever he's feeling upset or scared. Geralt has warned him that it's just unstable magic that has pulled them together, but every time he appears before Jaskier, when the bard is hurting or scared or sad, he can't help but try to make it better.

Canon compliant! Sort of, anyway, in that everything in canon happens throughout the course of the story. Very loosely based on The Time Traveler's Wife, which I will admit to having seen many *many* years ago now, so take that with a grain of salt.

Words: 15445, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: Gen, M/M

Characters: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion's Father, Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon

Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion

Additional Tags: Time Travel, Not really an AU, Slow Burn, Jaskier Cries A Lot, but really c'mon are you gonna tell me he doesn't, Canon Compliant, Post-Canon, Sort Of, Time Travel Fix-It, In a manner of speaking

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #netflix the witcher #jaskier x geralt #geralt x jaskier #geraskier

[foxthefanboi]

Content Masterlist

Table of Contents

Post Type: Gifs

Post Type: Edits

Post Type: Fics       Supernatural       My Hero Academia       Witcher

Event: Whumptober 2020

Event: Supernatural Appreciation Week 2020

Event: Sam Winchester Appreciation Week 2k20

See the rest of the post below the cut.

Type: Gifs

tag: #foxgifs

One Gifset Per Episode | 327/327 | tag: #one-post-per-episode

Winchester Angst Club’s Angst Rewatch | 18/327 | tag: #angst-rewatch

Most Wholesome Characters | 4/?? | tag: #mwc

@canonspngifs’s Gif-a-Thons | tag: #gifathon

Type: Edits

tag: #foxedits

Destiel: “Because it was him, because it was me.”

TFW + Japanese

Sam and Lucifer + “Epithalamium” by Louise Glück

Sam + “(Don’t Fear) The Reaper”

Favorite Episode: Hell House

Favorite Sam and Dean Moments

Bloody Mary Sam

The Voicemail

Type: Fics

tag: #foxfics

Supernatural Fics

tag: #spn fanfic

(Sam, gen) - Prayers - 1000 words - Despite his family’s beliefs, Sam has always been religious.

(Sam and Dean, gen) - How Many Hunters Does It Take to Exorcize a Demon? - 600 words - Dean forgot the words to the exorcism spell. Sam can’t speak. They work with what they’ve got. [Mute!Sam series]

(Weechesters, gen) - Voiceless - 1,300 words - Young Sam looks for a way to communicate after permanently losing his voice. [Mute!Sam series]

(Weechesters, gen) - Little Brother - 1,000 words - Dean finds out his sister Sam is a guy. He doesn’t get it, but he’s going to try.

(Sam x Cas) - Comfort - 800 words - Sam has a nightmare, and Cas comforts him.

(Sam x Cas) - Castiel, My Guardian Dear - 6,600 words - Sam meets his brother’s angel Castiel and feels an immediate, soul-deep connection that he can’t explain.

(Sam x Dean) - Goodbye - 900 words - Sam leaves for good after the Stanford argument with his dad. Dean can’t stop him from leaving - he can only say goodbye.

(Sam x Kevin) Caretaker - 3000 words - Sam takes care of Kevin while he’s sick. Kevin accidentally reveals his crush.

(Dean x Reader) - Safe - 250 words - “Imagine having a nightmare and Dean holding you until you fall back asleep.”

My Hero Academia Fics

tag: #bnha fic

(Midoriya x Bakugo) - Apology - 3,000 words - Katsuki has fallen in love, but he knows no apology is enough to fix the past.

(Midoriya x Bakugo) - Photographs - 3,900 words - Eight pictures showing Katsuki’s evolving relationship with Izuku.

(Midoriya x Bakugo) - Let me tell you that I love you - 3,400 words - 

Witcher Fics

tag: #ficlet on @gwentmaster-geralt

(Geralt x Jaskier | Dandelion) - stay - 700 words - Geralt patches up Dandelion.

(Geralt x Jaskier | Dandelion) - elixir - 700 words - Geralt doesn't want Jaskier to see him under his elixir's effects.

(Geralt x Jaskier | Dandelion) - soothed - 350 words - Dandelion watches over wounded Geralt.

(Geralt x Jaskier | Dandelion) - gift - 650 words - Dandelion writes a song for Geralt.

(Geralt x Jaskier | Dandelion) - warmth - 500 words - Jaskier and Geralt cuddle in Brokilon.

(Geralt x Jaskier | Dandelion) - emotions - 1000 words - The bard following Geralt has questions about witchers' emotions.

(Geralt x Jaskier | Dandelion) - safety - 800 words - Geralt comforts Dandelion after a nightmare.

(Geralt x Jaskier | Dandelion) - grief - 1300 words - Dandelion watches Geralt die.

(Geralt x Jaskier | Dandelion) - toussaint - 500 words - Geralt confesses his feelings after Dandelion decides to stay in Toussaint.

(Jaskier | Dandelion x Yennefer) something familiar - 1100 words - Yennefer is on the run, and she's relieved to see someone she knows: Jaskier.

Event: Whumptober 2020 

Oct 1 – Oct 31, 2020 prompt list | tag: #whumptober2020 | masterlist

Waking Up Restrained (12.01 | Keep Calm and Carry On)

Kidnapped (12.01 | Keep Calm and Carry On)

My Way or the Highway (2.19 | Folsom Prison Blues)

Caged (1.15 | The Benders)

Failed Escape (12.01 | Keep Calm and Carry On)

Please… (3.11 | Mystery Spot)

I’ve Got You (8.23 | Sacrifice)

Isolation (7.23 | Survival of the Fittest)

“Take Me Instead” (4.09 | I Know What You Did Last Summer)

Blood Loss (4.19 | Jump the Shark)

Crying (2.17 | Heart)

Broken Trust (5.02 | Good God, Y’all)

Breathe In Breathe Out (11.20 | Don’t Call Me Shurley)

Fire (1.01 | Pilot)

Possession (2.14 | Born Under a Bad Sign)

Hallucinations (5.11 | Sam, Interrupted)

Dirty Secret (4.20 | The Rapture)

Phobias (7.02 | Hello, Cruel World)

Broken Hearts (2.01 | In My Time of Dying)

Field Medicine (11.17 | Red Meat)

Infection (11.02 | Form and Void)

Withdrawal (4.21 | When the Levee Breaks)

Sleep Deprivation (7.17 | The Born-Again Identity)

Sensory Deprivation (12.09 | First-Born)

I Think I’ll Just Collapse Right Here, Thanks (8.21 | The Escapist)

Migraine (1.14 | Nightmare)

Extreme Weather (3.06 | Red Sky at Morning)

Hunting Season (6.22 | The Man Who Knew Too Much)

I Think I Need a Doctor (7.02 | Hello, Cruel World)

Ignoring an (Internal Organ) Injury (8.16 | Remember the Titans)

Today’s Special: Torture (12.01/12.02 | Keep Calm…/Mamma Mia)

Event: Supernatural Appreciation Week 2020

Oct 1 – Oct 8, 2020 original prompt list | #spnaw20

Favorite Sam and Dean Moments (compilation gifset)

Side Character Who Deserved Better - Kevin Tran (compilation gifset)

Favorite Villain - Ruby (graphic)

Underrated Characteristic - Dean Is Good With Kids (compilation gifset)

Favorite Ship - Sastiel (ficlet)

Favorite Episode - 1.17 “Hell House” (edit)

Favorite “No Chick Flicks” Moment (1) - “Uh… Do you want a poem?” (gifset)

Favorite “No Chick Flicks” Moment (2) - “Yeah, you love chick flicks.” (gifset)

Event: Sam Appreciation Week 2k20

Nov 15 – Nov 21, 2020 see also: prompt list | tag: #samweek2k20

Favorite Scene - 4.14 Sex and Violence - "You’re holding me back.“ (gifset)

Favorite Version of Sam - Demon Blood Sam (gifset)

Favorite Headcanon - Sam prays. (fic)

Favorite Character Arc - The Trials (gifset)

Favorite Badass Moments (compilation gifset)

Favorite Lyrics Associated with Sam - (Don’t Fear) The Reaper (graphic)

Free Choice: Favorite Mannerism (compilation gifset)

#masterlist

[angst-fairygodmother]

Sing Once Again With Me: Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again (The Witcher; A Phantom of the Opera AU)

A/N: This was tricky. I made it tricky for myself by changing who/what our beloved protagonist thought the Phantom was at the start. But that’s okay. Word Count: 1879 Content Warning: Angst, violence Taglist: @ficsandcatsandficsandcats @joz-stankovich @sennextheassasinkingoflight Previous Chapter: Madame Giry’s Tale Cross-posted to AO3: here

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

As soon as he was released from the prison, ostensibly into Yennefer’s custody, Geralt’s first instinct was to go and check on Jaskier.

“He’ll be asleep,” Yennefer cautioned. “Let him rest, and get some rest yourself. See him in the morning.”

Geralt shook his head. “I need to see him now. I…don’t intend to leave his side until this is solved.”

She studied him for a moment and then sighed. “I can let you into the dormitory hall, but the rooms are shared by a half-dozen performers each. Who will raise an alarm and wreak havoc if you disturb them unexpectedly. There is a small alcove not far from the door to his room, if you really insist on it, you can rest there.”

He took her hand in his and squeezed it affectionately. “Thank you Yennefer. For everything you’ve done and are doing.”

She rolled her eyes. “You fall for the bard and suddenly you’ve gone all soft on me.”

~

Geralt dozed fitfully, propped in the little space Yennefer had directed him toward. Jaskier knew that the witcher was waiting there for him, and that if he asked it, he would go with him happily. But unfortunately, that was the problem. He loved Geralt and knew that the other man was only trying to look out for him, but since everything began, he had felt suffocated, strangled by the concern on the faces of those closest and contempt on everyone else’s. He needed space. He needed a moment alone. He needed to think.

He pulled his cloak tightly around him as he slipped past his sleeping guardian in the pre-dawn light, trusting his familiarity with the music hall to guide him where light could not.

~

He had only meant to take a short walk, let the crisp morning air clear his mind, but some impulse or instinct carried him out past the city walls to the cemetery with its hundreds of quiet, unremarkable dead.

“I wonder,” he breathed, words misting in the air before him as he leaned against a low stone wall separating the graves into years, “are any of you the ghost that haunts me now?”

He stood there for a long while, thoughts tumbling over each other. Was this spirit indeed, as he had once hoped, the one his grandfather spoke of? Why then had it turned cruel? And why was wearing a mangled version of the face of his first love? (Well, calling Valdo his first or love were perhaps being overdramatic, but there had been something unique and special about their relationship when they had been young and foolish boys at school, something neither of them had ever cared to categorize.) And if it wasn’t the spirit, what was it? What did it want from him?

He felt tears stinging at his eyes as he began to wander again, the wind biting at him through the layers he’d put on. As a younger man he might have loved this whole ordeal, the drama and the twisted desire, the waring feelings within him for the monster and the hunter, every element a piece of the perfect story, a ballad of epic proportions, one for the ages and the history books. But now, he just wanted peace.

A monument caught his eye and called to him, a hooded figure playing the violin, carved so lifelike that he could almost hear the aching notes.

Valdo Marx A True Artist Never Dies May His Song Be Everlasting In Our Hearts

Jaskier drew in a sharp breath as numb, gloved fingers reached out to trace the letters of the inscription on the plinth.

He had wondered, when he came to the city where he knew Valdo had been a frequent performer, why they had never run into each other, but thought that perhaps it was just a matter of timing or of Valdo having found somewhere better to be, after all they were quite far from Cidaris, whence he drew his fame. As it had gone on, it had become no more than a passing curiosity. It was better that they never met, what with being rivals. But still, he had never imagined nor wished the man dead (the incident with the djinn far from his mind at that moment).

“I don’t understand,” he muttered, as if the hardened stone could give him answers. “How can he be dead? Unless…”

He took a step back and planted his hands on his hips in an attempt to look imperious, drawing on what memories he had of learning to be a proper noble from his father.

“I don’t know if this is how any of this works, but I hope that you can hear me. If you’re really dead and haunting me then say so. Tell me plainly.”

Silence reigned over the cemetery, so complete that Jaskier thought he could hear the snowflakes that now fell from the sky as they settled on the stones and ground around him.

“No I suppose I didn’t expect that would work,” he said after a while, shrugging. “Well, it was worth a try.”

Still, he could not peel himself away from the beautifully carved marker. He sat heavily, regardless of the cold and wet and cast his eyes upward, as if hoping to find some face beneath the player’s hood. Instead he found only shadow.

“That doesn’t seem right for you, you know,” he said, gesturing vaguely at the statue. “You were never the mysterious hooded-figure type, and of all the instruments you played the violin was your worst. Course, trumpeting angels wouldn’t be right either. Too nice, too clean for you.”

He ran a hand through his hair, briefly wondering if criticizing a dead man’s grave to the air when his ghost might or might not be haunting him was a good idea, but decided that it probably didn’t matter. What could it do, make Valdo haunt him more?

“Can’t fault them completely I guess. They were trying their best. You were…impossible to capture in a single thing. There was just too much of you, and too contradictory, for that.”

He fell silent, leaning back and closing his eyes, as he had against the man himself when the two worked on lyrics together (when they weren’t competing fiercely), in the rare moments of peace between them, under the trees at Oxenfurt.

“How did you die I wonder? Did you have to suffer? Were you alone? Gods I hope you weren’t alone. You hated silences and being left completely to your own thoughts. It wouldn’t have been fair.”

He was crying now, the tears freezing to his face painfully while he continued to ramble.

“I do miss you sometimes. More so since I settled than when I was travelling, but I think that’s because I could convince myself we’d only just narrowly passed each other and might cross paths again.”

He sighed.

“I didn’t want to reunite or rekindle the…passion between us. But you were my first friend you know, the first person who saw me as Jaskier, or as a musician. I loved that you considered me an artistic rival and the way we fought. It was the first time I didn’t think someone only saw the Viscount de Lettenhove.”

Suddenly, he stiffened. The wind carried the sound of his name, whispered, coaxing, to his ears. He stood, dusting off the seat of his pants, and waited. When he heard it again, he tried to follow, wending further from the gates, toward the decrepit and tumbling mausoleums that stood, long forgotten, near the walls.

One of the sets of great, iron doors stood open. An eerie, reddish light glowed from within as Jaskier climbed, entranced.

“Who are you that calls to me?” he asked, voice whispering and awed.

“Have you forgotten your Angel of Music?” the answer was soft, almost hurt. “You know who I am. Come to me, my sweet.”

Jaskier nodded, his steps drawing him nearer. “I tried to deny you. I turned from you. I still feel like I should be fighting against this pull…”

The response was hypnotic, sonorous, perfectly cadenced to fit into Jaskier’s mind. “But you know, in your soul, you can feel it, we are two halves. You cannot resist, do not want to resist. Come to me, come to the Angel of Music.”

He was nearly at the doors when another voice cut through his mind, breaking the hold over him that the spirit seemed to possess.

“Jaskier!” Geralt called, thundering up on Roach. “Stop!” He dismounted before the horse had fully ceased her movements, drawing his silver sword as he ran to the bard’s side.

“Geralt!” the cry was startled, but pleased, a thundering terror suddenly sweeping over Jaskier and threatening to drive him to his knees.

“Whatever you think, whatever’s going on, this thing means to harm you.”

With a snarl, Valdo leapt at the witcher, diving out from behind one of the mausoleum’s statuary in a flurry of black cloak and the flash of steel as his own sword struck out.

Geralt dodged, barely, and the pair locked into combat. The clash of blades shattered the stillness of the morning, their ever-moving feet stirring up the mud and slush, sliding to keep their balance. Jaskier cowered, pressed to the banister of the stair, struck numb with fear and the confusion of it being for both men.

More than once the Phantom tried to blind or distract Geralt with a swirl of his cape, and at least twice his aggressive movements had seen the witcher tumble to the ground. Still, strength for strength and blow for blow it was an even match, and as they moved, Jaskier followed, wide-eyed and open mouthed in horror.

The Phantom punched Geralt, who stumbled back with the sickening crunch of his nose breaking. When he recovered footing and sight, the ghost was gone, only to reappear moments later from around a statue, striking at him from the back. Geralt barely dodged, feeling the blade slice into his shoulder, and shouted.

Rather than slowing him though, this seemed merely to light a greater fire within the witcher and he lunged, startling the Phantom, who stumbled down a short set of steps. Using the height, plus his own natural size, Geralt pressed the advantage against the lither opponent. Knocking his sword away, he swung back, ready to behead the other man and see the whole thing end.

“Geralt, no!” Jaskier called out, rushing to his side. “Please, not…not in a cemetery, not like this.”

Geralt stepped back, panting heavily, and turned to the bard in confusion. Jaskier’s eyes were wide and pleading, the blue shining with tears and fear and pain. He gritted his teeth, turning back to the creature on the ground, fury pounding in his blood. And then he sheathed his sword.

He swung himself onto Roach’s back and reached down to pull Jaskier gently up behind him.

“Let’s go,” he growled, taking off at a hard canter.

Jaskier wrapped his arms tightly around Geralt’s waist, casting a last glance back at the Phantom, who was now standing and watching them go, the tension in him obvious even from the growing distance, before pressing his face between Geralt’s shoulder blades with a soft sob.

#Sing Once Again With Me #The Witcher #Phantom of the Opera AU #Geralt of Rivia #Jaskier #Valdo Marx #Valdo Marx x Jaskier #Now. Let it be war upon you both #angst #something of an underwhelming sword fight if I'm being honest #and a 100% unintentional TAD reference

[witcherfic]

SweetestHoney September 15, 2020 at 05:13PM

by SweetestHoney

Jaskier has known Geralt all his life, he considers the gruff and taciturn man his guardian angel since Geralt always seems to pop up whenever he's feeling upset or scared. Geralt has warned him that it's just unstable magic that has pulled them together, but every time he appears before Jaskier, when the bard is hurting or scared or sad, he can't help but try to make it better.

Canon compliant! Sort of, anyway, in that everything in canon happens throughout the course of the story. Very loosely based on The Time Traveler's Wife, which I will admit to having seen many *many* years ago now, so take that with a grain of salt.

Words: 15445, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: Gen, M/M

Characters: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion's Father, Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon

Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion

Additional Tags: Time Travel, Not really an AU, Slow Burn, Jaskier Cries A Lot, but really c'mon are you gonna tell me he doesn't, Canon Compliant, Post-Canon, Sort Of, Time Travel Fix-It, In a manner of speaking

#witcher #witcher fic #fic recs #ao3feed

[jaskierswolf]

The Witcher, The Bard, and Their Guardian Angel pt.3/4

(Other parts on my pinned Masterlist/AO3)

“Jaskier, get down!” Geralt shouted to the bard who was watching the fight from behind a bush.

Jaskier yelped and ducked down just in time as a ball of venom flew over this head.

Geralt hissed as he turned back to face the archespore that was growing new shoots all over the ground. “Damn it!”

He moved his fingers quickly and shot a blast of fire at the plant using igni. It burst into flames and burnt to ash quickly. He spun round in a pirouette to make sure he had killed the main plant and not one of its smaller offshoots, but fortunately he was surrounded by limp lifeless plant matter.

“Is it dead?” Jaskier called from his hiding spot. “It looks dead, right?”

Geralt wiped the venom coated sword on the grass and then sheathed it on his back. “It’s dead.” He confirmed. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. Not even a scratch, I do have the famous White Wolf to protect me after all.” Jaskier cooed as he jumped into Geralt’s arms.

Geralt grunted but caught the bard with a roll of his eyes.

“Next time I tell you to leave the disgusting looking plant alone, will you please listen to me?” Geralt sighed.

Jaskier grinned mischievously up at him “Oh but where’s the fun in that! I wouldn’t have gotten to watch you fight otherwise, and you know how much I adore that.” Jaskier smirked and stroked a long finger down Geralt’s cheek.

“I’ll drop you.” Geralt warned.

“No you won’t.” Jaskier laughed.

Geralt frowned, seriously considering dropping the bard on his ass.

“Be more careful next time.” He sighed.

Jaskier leaned up to press his lips to Geralt’s cheek. “Of course, dear heart.”

Geralt rolled his eyes. He knew that Jaskier’s promise meant nothing. He was too curious and severely lacked a self preservation instinct, preferring to rely on Geralt to get him out of trouble.

“I’ll believe that when I see it.” He grumbled and dropped Jaskier carefully back to the floor. The bard pouted at him but said nothing.

They had been travelling together for just over a decade now. Geralt hadn’t meant to let the bard tag along for that long but after a few years together on and off, he found he was quite fond of Jaskier’s company. He filled the silence that Geralt hadn’t even realised had been bothering him before. He certainly helped when it came to coin. Jaskier had taken charge of haggling with their clients and he was the one who would retrieve the pay after a successful hunt, especially when royalty or nobility were involved. Not to mention the coin his songs brought in, an extra income that helped pay for lodgings and supplies, as well as rousing up a few more desperate contracts whenever they were in town.

Their relationship had grown and developed before either of them had really realised. They had never really talked about it but the pet names had slowly become more intimate, on Jaskier’s part anyway, and the hugs began to linger, sharing bedrolls for heat became sharing bedrolls because they wanted to. If Geralt was walking along side Jaskier then it wasn’t unusual for the bard to slip his hand into Geralt’s and Geralt never pulled away, he didn’t want to.

Then came the kisses.

Natural as breathing.

One winter Geralt and Jaskier had said their goodbyes, Jaskier heading to Oxenfurt and Geralt to Kaer Morhen, and Jaskier had leant in to kiss him. It wasn’t passionate or lust driven. It was a simple kiss goodbye, as if they’d been doing it for years.

Geralt had stared after the bard as he’d sauntered away and he’d thought about the kiss all winter.

When they’d reunited in spring Geralt had pulled his bard into fierce kiss and then buried his face in Jaskier’s neck, letting his familiar scent wash over him. Jaskier had returned the kiss eagerly and from then on their relationship and melted into one beyond platonic.

Geralt was already mourning the loss of his bard. Jaskier was human which meant that Geralt, if he survived the monsters, would not have long with his companion. So every day, every second counted. It had to. He couldn’t waste his time with Jaskier.

Which was why Jaskier’s penchant for trouble bothered him so much.

Humans were so ridiculously fragile.

“Geralt? What’s going on in that big old brain of yours?” Jaskier’s hands were on his cheeks, pulling him from his thoughts, and looking up at him with his beautiful cornflower blue eyes. “Is it the child?”

Geralt growled. “No.”

“When are we going to talk about what happened?” Jaskier sighed and rested his forehead against Geralt’s.

Geralt closed his eyes and breathed in the bard’s scent, letting it calm him and pushing away all thoughts of his mortality.

“The path is no place for a child, Jaskier.” He sighed. “I’m not taking him away from his family.”

“And how do we know they’re a boy?” Jaskier teased.

Geralt hummed. “I’m not taking them away from their family.” He amended.

“You should at least visit.” Jaskier’s hands were now threading through his hair gently. “You saw what happened when you try to deny Destiny.”

Geralt hummed again.

Jaskier pulled away and kissed his forehead. “Come now, Geralt. We shall ride for Cintra and I won’t hear another word against it!”

“Jaskier.” He sighed.

“Stop complaining, witcher. We’re going.” Jaskier said firmly. “Don’t forget, I saved your life, you brute. You owe me!”

Geralt couldn’t help but smile. Despite the fact that Geralt had saved Jaskier’s life many times over the last decade, the bard still insisted on playing that card.

The air crackled around them and a portal shimmered open in the air. A tall mage in a long hooded robe stepped through.

“What the…” Geralt murmured.

Jaskier scent soured and his pulse began to race.

The bard was afraid, more afraid than Geralt had ever known him, not even when a giant had picked him up by his ankles and tried to eat him.

“Mihangel.” Jaskier’s voice was shaking and barely above a whispered.

“You remembered.” The mage smiled softly, his voice was low and rich, full of untold knowledge.

“Jaskier, what’s going on?” He pushed the bard behind him, shielding him from the mage that had scared him so much.

“Ah, well, funny story.” Jaskier stammered. “When I said I saved your life, it wasn’t so much me as him, but you know, I found you and brought you back to town so I definitely helped!”

“Your bard begged for help, for anyone that could save you. You were dying, witcher.” Mihangel said calmly.

Geralt nodded. “I remember.”

“I saved your life at his request.” Mihangel’s voice was almost hypnotic. “And now I have come to claim what is owed to me.”

Geralt frowned and stepped towards the mage, making sure he was between Mihangel and his bard. “And what exactly is that?”

“A life debt.” Jaskier wailed behind him. “Oh gods, I’m too young to die!”

Mihangel laughed, a rich warm laugh that reminded Geralt of his brother Eskel. “Is that why you stink of fear, bard?”

Jaskier snorted indignantly. “I smell just fine! Tell him Geralt.”

Geralt glanced behind him and shrugged.

“Oi!” Jaskier protested.

“What do you want from him? I’ll pay his debt.” Geralt suggested.

The mage laughed once more. “Oh I sincerely doubt that you’ll be able to, witcher but I accept these terms.” He held his hand out and Geralt shook it.

“Oh hang on!” Jaskier barrelled past Geralt and broke their hands apart. “Geralt, you don’t even know what you’re agreeing to!”

Mihangel laughed. “You should have listened to your bard, witcher.”

Geralt frowned. “Why? What did you want?”

“My sister is getting married this summer. She was hoping to have the famous Jaskier play for her, but I supposed the famous witcher Geralt of Rivia will have to do.” Mihangel pulled off his hood, revealing the intricate braids in his hair. “You have two months, witcher. I wish you luck. You’ll need it.”

And with that Mihangel portalled away.

Jaskier burst into gleeful laughter, dropping to the floor and he clutched his stomach. “Oh ho ho!” He burst out between laughs. “I cannot wait to see this one!”

“Shut up, Jaskier.” Geralt grumbled.

“I told you that you should learn the lute!” He giggled.

“Shut up!” Geralt growled louder.

“But oh no! The mighty witcher was too good for my lowly lute playing skills. Ha!” Jaskier was on his back trying to contain his laughter.

Geralt swore and swiftly mounted Roach. He kicked her into a gallop and left the bard in a cloud of dust.

“Oh hey, wait, no. Geralt!!” He heard Jaskier call after him followed by the sound of his footsteps as he ran after him. “Geralt wait up!”

___________

Jaskier was starting to seriously worry about his lute, it had been a gift from the elves following one of his earlier adventures with Geralt. He still wasn’t entirely sure why Filavandrel had decided to honour him with the instrument but he was certainly not complaining.

All other lutes paled in comparison. The intricate decoration on the wood was just stunning and the strings had never once broken which was a miracle. He was sure they had been enhanced by magic. Over a decade of using the instrument and not even the highest, tightest, string had snapped under his fingers. He did not miss the days when he couldn’t play because the snapped strings had sliced into his fingertips, not to mention the coin he had saved on replacing the strings.

Oh and the sounds he could pull from the instrument. They were heavenly, enchanting, more beautiful than a siren’s call. The lute sang in his hands and resonated so clearly, so richly.

To the gods he was in love.

None of that mattered now though, not when his beloved instrument was in the hands of his witcher.

Now Jaskier would be the first to sing Geralt’s praises, remind the world of his goodness, his heroic nature, his heart, but Jaskier currently wanted to tear the lute from Geralt’s hands and make sure the world never had to endure this torture ever again.

“Melitele have mercy on us, stop that Geralt!” He groaned and pulled his lute away, cradling it in his arms. “I’m sorry, sexy, he didn’t mean it. I promise.” He cooed to his precious lute.

Geralt snorted. “Sexy?”

“Now now, don’t get jealous. You know I’ll always come back to you, my darling witcher.” He winked at Geralt. “Even if you are trying to destroy my eardrums. You having many talents my dear, lute playing is not one of them.”

“Would you just shut up? I’m running out of time.” Geralt went to grab the lute back.

Jaskier jumped back and held the lute out of Geralt’s reach. “Take a break, please, Geralt. I implore you.”

“Can’t. Have to learn to pay off your fucking debt!” Geralt growled.

Jaskier licked his lips and smirked at the witcher, pushing him back with his free hand. “And who’s fault is that? No no. Don’t say mine, Geralt. This is all on you!”

“I thought he was going to ask you to fight something.” Geralt grumbled. “I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

“And I appreciate your concern, but really why would a literal sorcerer ask a bard to fight?” Jaskier tilted his head at Geralt, allowing his fingers to grip onto the fabric of Geralt’s shirt. “I mean I thought he wanted to use my organs for some weird magic shit.”

Geralt scoffed.

“Hey! How was I supposed to know that ‘life debt’ didn’t mean you have to sacrifice your own life?” Jaskier pouted.

“You were at Cintra.” Geralt rolled his eyes.

“And I’d already asked Mihangel if he wanted to call Law of Surprise, he declined and went all ominous and ‘Remember my name’” Jaskier sunk into his lower register to do his finest impression of the mage. “I panicked!”

“You are nothing but trouble, bard.” Geralt sighed but stopped trying to grab the lute.

Jaskier grinned and pulled the witcher into a kiss. “It’s why you love me.” He purred against Geralt’s lips.

“Hmm.” Geralt agreed before capturing his lips in another kiss, biting at Jaskier’s bottom lip as they pulled apart.

Geralt took advantage of Jaskier’s distraction and stole the lute back.

“Oi!” Jaskier pouted.

“Shut up and help me.” Geralt snapped.

“Well I can’t shut up if you want me to teach you.” He pointed out.

“Jaskier.” Geralt groaned in exasperation.

“Fine fine. Come here, you brute.” Jaskier said defeatedly.

They’d already been at it for two months and Geralt had barely made any progress. His hands were much better suited to wielding swords than lutes. Jaskier was just lucky the Geralt’s fingers were nimble enough to dance, albeit awkwardly, on the strings. Years of using witcher signs had helped with that, and Jaskier was more than familiar with how good Geralt could be with his fingers.

“Jaskier.” Geralt warned in a soft voice.

He blushed. “After the wedding perhaps?”

“Don’t count on it.” Geralt growled but he was half smiling at Jaskier in that fond soft way that made Jaskier’s heart melt.

“We shall see, dear heart.” Jaskier winked at his student.

By the time the sun had begun to set and they needed to get ready for the wedding, Geralt could just about finish a very basic tune but he couldn’t sing at the same time. Jaskier would have to help, they were both counting on Geralt’s humiliation being entertainment enough and that Mihangel would allow Jaskier to take over.

Otherwise it would be a very dull wedding indeed. Jaskier had enlisted some of his friends from Oxenfurt to help for the evening. Whilst the lute was a perfectly adequate instrument on its own, for a grand event such as a wedding, a fuller band was always a better option. He’d warned his friends that Geralt would have to play at least the first song. Luckily the news had delighted them and bets had been made about just how terrible the witcher would be.

Jaskier was ashamed to say he’d betted against the witcher on this one. His friend Essi had been certain that Jaskier was being too harsh on his partner, poor Essi had no idea what she was in for.

They wandered down into the hall, Jaskier was wearing his finest doublet that hadn’t been torn to pieces by monsters or by Geralt’s own hands. It was a soft silk lilac doublet, with a delicate floral pattern that shimmered in the light. Geralt had grumbled but allowed himself to be forced into formal evening wear. He was sporting a rather elegant dark burgundy doublet with gold thread stitching a rather beautiful meadow of buttercups across his torso.

Jaskier liked to pretend that he wasn’t the possessive sort but he found it immensely satisfying watching Geralt walk through the crowd covered in buttercups and smelling like chamomile, Jaskier’s preferred scent.

“Are you ready, White Wolf?” He leaned to whisper in Geralt’s ear.

“Can’t be worse than the striga.” Geralt grumbled.

Jaskier laughed. “Oh my darling, this is so much worse. A striga is merciful. She kills you quickly. Nobility are more monstrous than anything you’ve faced in battle.”

Geralt snorted a laugh and pulled the lute from off his back.

It was time to repay the debt, at last.

Tag list: @alwenarin @slythnerd @davidtennan-t @flippinfricks @innocentcinnamonpun @dearest-queerest-nux @awitchersbard @genkitaco @justalittletomfoolery

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier pankratz #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #geraskier fanfiction #geralt/jaskier #jaskier #geralt #the witcher the bard and their guardian angel #wolfie's witcher writing

[jaskierswolf]

The Witcher, The Bard and Their Guardian Angel Pt. 2/4

(Other parts on my pinned masterlist/AO3 - Geralt is still recovering from injury in this chapter and is not in the best place)

Geralt had died.

He was sure of it.

There was no way in hell that he’d survived the attack from the griffin, not without magical intervention and there had been no mages nearby. Yet he appeared to be waking up. His body felt like it had been torn apart and sewn back together the wrong way round, and was that… singing?

He drew a heavy breath and winced at the pain in his abdomen as he blinked against the light.

An elf was looking down at him with pretty blue eyes filled with concern.

“Geralt?” The man asked.

Fuck he had a beautiful voice.

Geralt frowned. The singing had stopped. Why had the singing stopped? He tried to sit up but the elf pushed him down again.

“Oh no. No, no. You stay down, witcher.” The elf insisted and Geralt obeyed.

He didn’t want to disappoint the man with the beautiful eyes and voice like a siren.

“Who…” He coughed out hoarsely.

“Jaskier. I found you on the road half dead, Geralt.” The elf squeezed Geralt’s shoulders to make sure he stayed lying down and then move back to his chair. “Mihangel, the mage who helped the healers save your sorry arse, gave me the griffin head. Honestly I’ve never seen something so disgusting in my life, but apparently you witchers need it to get paid. So, you’re welcome.”

Geralt struggled to process the elf’s words. He could hear them and he was sure they were important but he just couldn’t stop watching the man’s lips. They were chapped from where the elf had been biting them and every so often his tongue peeked out to moisten his lips. To Geralt it became the most important thing in his drug addled mind.

He did miss the singing though. It had been the voice of an angel, he was sure of it.

“M’ not dead?” Geralt slurred, the pain in his stomach was making him sick and his vision was already begin to blacken around the edges.

The elf shook his head. “No. By all rights you should have been. You’re lucky I found you, Geralt.”

“Hmm… pretty….” He heard his voice echo as his head fell back against the pillow and sleep took him once more.

_________

The next time he woke up his head was a little clearer. The pain had eased and he was able to sit up with only a little effort. He grunted as he pushed his back up against the wall. The noise woke up the brunet that was sleeping in a chair next to his bed.

The man had soft tousled brown hair and was wearing an expensive looking teal doublet that was soaked in his blood. The man must have been the one to save him. He moaned slightly as he woke up and rubbed his eyes wearily.

“Geralt?”

Oh.

Geralt knew that voice.

He had been sure it was a dream, the elven man with the cornflower blue eyes.

“Hmm.” He agreed and stared intently at the man.

The tips of his ears were covered in soft chestnut brown hair but if he’d been pure elf then his ears would still have been visible. This was no elf. His sleep hazed mind must have just noticed the man’s bone structure and beautiful eyes and jumped to conclusions.

“You look better.” The man said cheerily. “Can I?” His hands hovered over Geralt’s bandaged torso.

Geralt nodded.

“The healers said that witchers heal faster than humans but I thought you would be asleep for at least a few more days.” The brunet gently pealed back the bandages. Geralt winced slightly as he felt the fabric pull at the scabbed tissue. He glanced down at the man’s trembling fingers, noting the calloused fingertips, a bard perhaps? “That’s incredible!” The brunet gasped. “There’s barely any sign of a wound.”

Geralt saw that the man was right, all that was left of the deep gash left by the griffin’s talons was a thick scabbed line.

“Where’s my bags?” He asked, his voice croaked dryly.

The man jumped up and hurried to the other side of the room. “These were attached to the horse.”

“Roach?”

“She’s stabled and being looked after, the dwarves have been the most gracious hosts, my dear.” The man dumped the bags on the bed next to him. “What did you need?”

“Potions. One for healing. Couldn’t take it before, too toxic.” Geralt mumbled as he pulled the pack into his lap and began to search for the right bottle.

“Too toxic?! Geralt!” The man tugged at the satchel. “No!”

“Yes.” Geralt insisted. “I’m a witcher, it’s fine.”

“Geralt!” The man whined.

“It’s fine.” He growled with a final tug. “But thank you, for saving me. I owe you…”  He trailed off hoping that the man would realise what he was asking.

“Oh yes. You weren’t very lucid before were you? Jaskier Pankratz at your service!” He grinned. “You called me pretty before.”

Geralt frowned. “No I didn’t.”

“Yes you did!” Jaskier insisted. “And you kept mumbling about elves and beautiful eyes, an old flame perhaps?”

“Hmm.” Geralt replied, thanking his mutations for dampening his ability to blush, otherwise he was fairly certain his face would be betraying him.

“You know, an old lover of mine once said in the throes of passion that I had the beauty of an elf.” Jaskier mused with a delicate wave of his hands. “I of course, took it as a compliment, some of the most gorgeous people in the history of the Continent have been elves.”

“Hmm.” Geralt agreed.

“So do you really think I have beautiful eyes, Geralt?” Jaskier’s fingers danced across his chest as the brunet stared at him through his eyelashes with those stunning blue eyes.

Geralt wasn’t delirious enough this time to admit it. Instead he pulled the cork from the bottle using his teeth and downed half the potion. It burned his throat horrible and he almost vomited the vile concoction straight back up but he growled and forced it down.

Jaskier gasped and Geralt followed his gaze. With the additional help of the potion the left over scabbing from the talons was pealing off his skin as his flesh visibly knitted back together. It itched like hell but he just laid his head back on the pillow and gritted his teeth until the feeling passed.

“That’s amazing.” Jaskier breathed reverently.

“When you get stabbed a lot it’s necessary. Witchers would be pretty terrible monster hunters if we didn’t recover quickly.” Geralt shrugged.

The bitter taste of the potion still lingered in his mouth. Some of his other smaller cuts and bruises that hadn’t been magically healed by the mage were also now fading away, only the largest of them would scar properly. He sighed. Another mark on his skin, just another sign of his own monstrosity and another oddity for whores to ask about.

Jaskier pouted. “Oh come now! Have a little self respect. You’re fucking brilliant. I’ve always wanted to meet a witcher. You must have so many stories to tell.”

“A bard?” Geralt asked, remembering Jaskier’s calloused fingers.

“Trying to be, just graduated. Didn’t realise people were such assholes though. Doesn’t fucking matter that I was top of my class or that I have degrees in all seven of the liberal arts. Noooo,” Jaskier rolled his eyes and flailed his arms in exasperation. “No they don’t give a shit about any of that.”

“Can’t say I blame them.” Geralt sighed wearily. The potion was already slowing him down. His body lulling him back to sleep so he could recover from the fast healing and the toxicity that was bubbling in his veins. Half the potion wasn’t much and he barely felt it but his body had already been exposed to a lot between the griffin and the mage, he needed to rest.

He fucking hated it.

Jaskier must have noticed because the brunet ran a hand through Geralt’s hair gently. “Rest now. I’ll look after your belongings until you are ready to leave. You’re safe with me.”

Geralt heard a low rumble in his chest that he wasn’t conscious of making as Jaskier’s hands continued to stroke through this hair. He let his eyes droop shut.

“That’s it, witcher.” Jaskier whispered quietly as he fell back into a deep sleep.

____________

Jaskier didn’t leave Geralt’s side very often during his week at the dwarven tavern. The dwarves were incredibly hospitable. Jaskier played a couple of sets in the tavern downstairs in the evening, the dwarves were particularly fond of his bawdier compositions and his new song about the mysterious Mihangel was well received. A few elves, gnomes and other non-humans had even slipped into the back of the room whilst he was performing. Jaskier felt pride in being able to bring the different species together but he did feel sad at the notable absence of humans.

Perhaps they were simply not welcome. The tavern did seem to be a safe haven for non-humans.

“Dulmur?” Jaskier had asked the redheaded dwarf behind the bar on his second evening.

“Problem, bard?” Dulmur grunted as he wiped down some glasses.

“Forgive my curiosity,” He smiled sheepishly as he tapped out a rhythm on the bar with his fingers. “But why are there no humans here?”

Dulmur laughed heartily. “Because they don’t want to be, bard. They don’t want to mix with us and that suits us just fine. Makes the place a whole lot cheerier for us without the humans fucking it up.”

Jaskier nodded. “So you don’t mind me being here?”

The dwarf put the glass he was cleaning down with a loud clunk. “Well to be honest, we all thought you were an elf at first, all that screeching about good for nothing humans.”

Jaskier gaped at the dwarf. “I do not screech!” He screeched and then pouted. “I have to look after my voice.”

“Talking of which, we aren’t letting you stay here free of charge, bard. Play us a song!” Dulmur clapped his hands and Jaskier hopped off his bar stall to begin his set.

That was a good few days ago and Jaskier no longer felt like an outsider in the bar. He treated them kindly and listened to their tales, in return they accepted him as a friend and ally. It probably helped that he did bear some resemblance to an elf.

His mother had always insisted that he was fully human, told him that it was just his imagination running wild when he noticed the similarities. He still wasn’t convinced but time would tell. If he did have elven blood then the years would treat him more kindly than his fully human peers.

Jaskier pushed the thought from his head as he fingers brushed over the strings of his lute. He let the music take over, washing his worries about the silver haired man upstairs away. It was a lively piece and required significantly more concentration to keep the melody and the bass line together on his lute, and that was before he even began to sing. Luckily the lyrics weren’t particularly taxing, lazy rhymes and a fairly relaxed pace. The remainder of his concentration went on working the crowd, dancing around the tables, flirting with the patrons to ensure some easy coin.

He almost dropped his lute when he turned round to see Geralt by the stairs with his swords strapped to his back and bags slung over his shoulder. No one seemed to care that Jaskier’s voice gave out for a few beats or that he wrapped up the song a few verses early. Before the last notes had stopped ringing in the air he’d bounded across the room to the witcher.

“Geralt!” He wanted to hug the man but remembered that spending a week by the witcher’s bedside did not make them friends. He settled for a slightly awkward pat on Geralt’s broad shoulders. “You’re ok.”

“Thanks to you.” Geralt nodded. “What do I owe you?”

Jaskier’s heart sank.

The life debt.

That was his to pay and his alone, the mage had made that quite clear! He fiddled with his lute strap over his chest before plastering a charming smile on his face.

“Oh no! Nothing at all, my dear witcher.” He squeezed Geralt’s shoulder. “Any man would have done the same.” He lied easily, he’d seen the town’s reaction to his pleas for help, he was quite certain he was in the minority when it came to respecting witchers.

“Bollocks to that.” Geralt grunted. “You saved my life, Jaskier. What do I owe you?”

“Oh well,” Jaskier grinned, he’d hoped the witcher would ask again. “If you insist.”

“Out with it, bard.”

“Let me join you on your adventures.” He begged.

“No chance.” Geralt grunted and began to move towards the door.

“No no, hear me out!” He chased after the witcher towards the stables. “I gave that griffin’s head to the alderman!” He called after Geralt.

Geralt growled and spun round. “What?”

“Mihangel gave it to me, honestly Geralt, I almost lost my lunch. Do people really ask for the heads?” He didn’t stop talking long enough for Geralt to answer. “So I thought, I can’t exactly bring a stinking dead griffin’s head into a tavern but what else to do with it? Take it to the man who ordered the contract of course! So I did. He looked a little surprised to see me, you know on account of me not being you, or a witcher, although I think I would look rather dashing in all that armour.”

“Focus, Jaskier.” Geralt huffed as he began to saddle up his horse, Roach he’d called her.

“Yes yes!” He waved his hand dismissively. “I’m getting there, patience dear witcher. Well, I obviously don’t know how much you’d usually ask for a contract on a griffin, but I thought, you know, since you almost died and all, that the alderman was joking when he gave me fifty florens.”

“Bastard.” Geralt grumbled. “He promised me seventy five.”

“Ha!” Jaskier flung his arms out in glee. “I knew it! Luckily for you, I happen to be an excellent haggler. I told him I was there for the fight, that I saw how vicious and dangerous the beast was, that you had slain the mighty griffin only to realise that one of it’s talons had lodged inside of your chest, that you had been prepared to died to save the travellers to this delightful town. I was prepared to sing of your glory but the man coughed up a hundred florens before I had the chance.”

“A hundred?”

“That’s what I said, Geralt. Do pay attention.” He put his hand on his hips as the witcher mounted his horse. “So come on, witcher, let me come with you! I’m great with people, you need me!”

“Fine.” Geralt grumbled. “Where’s the coin?”

“I gave it to the healers and the dwarves at the tavern. Covered the room and food for whilst we were there.”

Geralt sighed. “Right, yeah. Of course.”

“Oh that reminds me! You haven’t eaten in days. Stay here, I’ll see if I can rustle up some supplies for the road.” Jaskier pinned Geralt with a firm look, not quite trusting the witcher to run off without him. “And I would like to gather up my own belongings, I do have a little more than my lute you know.”

“Hurry up.” Geralt tugged at Roach’s reins and slowly manoeuvred her from the stable. “I want to set up camp nearby.”

“Can’t we stay another night?” Jaskier pouted.

“Feel free, bard but I won’t wait for you if you decide to stay.” Geralt replied bluntly.

Jaskier took a deep breath, pulled his lute from off his back and pressed it into the witcher’s hand. “I am not letting you leave with this. I am coming back with food and supplies. Do not leave without me, witcher.”

Geralt stared down at the instrument in his hands. “I won’t.” He promised.

Taglist (sorry this was posted on AO3 last night but I was too tired to tumblr post): @alwenarin @slythnerd @davidtennan-t @flippinfricks @innocentcinnamonpun @dearest-queerest-nux @awitchersbard @genkitaco

#the witcher #geraskier #geraskier fanfiction #geralt of rivia #jaskier pankratz #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #geralt whump #the witcher the bard and their guardian angel #wolfie's witcher writing

[jaskierswolf]

The Witcher, The Bard and Their Guardian Angel Pt.4/4

(Other parts on my AO3/Pinned Masterlist)

Luckily for everyone who was in attendance at the wedding of Mihangel’s sister, the mage had taken pity on Geralt after one song. He’d allowed Jaskier to take over, and the bard had all but yanked his lute from the witcher’s arms. Those who were there that night would never forget the sight of the famous White Wolf fumbling over the simple melody that his bard had taught him.

The feat became immortalised in ballads and poems and plays, none of which were written by the bard in question. Jaskier had hoped the entire affair would be forgotten but Little Eye, the mischievous she-devil had had other ideas.

After the wedding Geralt and Jaskier fled quickly to Cintra but Calanthe had not been pleased to see the witcher and his bard turn up at her gates. They’d been sent packing as soon as they’d arrived. However, Jaskier was a stubborn creature and had eventually weaselled his way back into the Queen’s good graces. He’d been introduced to the little lion cub of Cintra, Princess Cirilla, and had visited quite frequently until Nilfgaard’s invasion.

He’d kept Geralt informed of the girl’s progress as she grew into a feisty young teenager, and in turn Ciri had grown quite fond of her favourite bard who told her stories of the White Wolf and her Destiny.

After the fight to save the baby dragon on the mountain, Jaskier had begged Geralt go to Cintra with him to save Ciri. For once in their lives, Yennefer and Jaskier had agreed on this. Yennefer was still desperate for a child, and Geralt’s foolish ill-worded wish had bound the sorceress to them, and in turn Ciri.

Jaskier had since mused that maybe Destiny had intended them all to find each other. It was Jaskier that led Geralt to both Ciri and Yennefer. The girl that had lost her family and the women so desperate for a child of her own, bound together through Geralt.

Maybe Jaskier was just a romantic at heart and was charmed by the idea of his witcher finally having the family he so deserved.

They’d snuck the princess away from the banquet right under Nilfgaard’s noses and fled to Kaer Morhen. The news of Cintra’s fall had reached them whilst they were on the road, Ciri had not taken it well at all.

That had been a shock.

It seemed the young princess had inherited her mother’s gifts. Jaskier had been thrown back against a tree from the sheer force of the girl’s screams. He’d instantly blacked out and had come to with Ciri sobbing over him whilst Geralt tried to placate her.

He’d been too injured to walk or ride without help for a week. Geralt had practically carried him half way to Kaer Morhen, it had hurt like a bitch but he had enjoyed the time spent in his lover’s arms, and there was a small chance that he’d milked his injury for all that it was worth.

Now they were enjoying the safety of Geralt’s home, protected by the mountains and a small army of witchers, Geralt family.

He was curled up in Geralt’s lap, it was after all, his favourite seat in the keep. Not even the lavish arm chair in the library was as comfortable as his favourite witcher’s lap. Although the other witchers did give him a run for his money. Eskel was particularly cuddly, much to Geralt’s displeasure. It had taken Lambert longer to warm up to the idea of hugs and cuddles but eventually curiosity and jealous had gotten the better of the redhead and he welcomed Jaskier’s touch as much as the others.

They were all sat together in front of the large fire place, relaxing after a hard day’s work around the keep, and drinking. The witchers had White Gull, a spirit that Jaskier had tried once but vowed never to touch again. It contained hallucinogens that had been too much for his non-witcher brain. He’d stuck to ale after that. Ciri had water but grumbled that if she were allowed then she’d have no problem with White Gull.  

“How old did you say he was?” Vesemir murmured from across the room.

Jaskier’s eyes snapped up, he hadn’t realised the old witcher had been watching them. He’d been too busy enjoying the warmth of the fireplace and his lover’s embrace.

Geralt frowned and looked down at Jaskier.

He rolled his eyes. “I’m forty-two, Geralt.”

“No you’re not?” Geralt grunted.

Jaskier stuck his tongue between his lips and counted back in his head to be sure. He was born in twenty-two, it was now sixty-four….

That meant he was forty-two.

“No, yeah. I really am.” He insisted, pouting up and his witcher. “Why do you ask, Vesemir?”

The older witcher chuckled. “Have you looked in the mirror recently, bard?”

Lambert snorted. “He probably never stops.”

“The folly of a bard.” Eskel agreed.

Ciri rolled her eyes at the two witchers. “You’re just jealous.” She snapped.

The other two witchers grumbled and Jaskier laughed. “They are gorgeous, there’s nothing to be jealous of, young witcher girl.”

Ciri preened at the name, almost all traces of the princess she’d been before had melted away in the halls of Kaer Morhen. She’d been allowed to break-free from the mould of noble society and she’d thrived. Jaskier suspected the young girl shared his disdain for the world they’d been born into. He’d broken away at around the same age Ciri had.

He winked at her and then turned his attention back to Vesemir. “Why do you ask?”

“You’ve been travelling with Geralt for years now, I thought you’d look older. You don’t look a day over twenty-five.” Vesemir mused.

Jaskier grinned. “Oh ho ho!” He laughed. “That would prove my mother wrong! After all these years. I wonder if she’s still alive. Nah, probably not. I doubt she’d admit the truth anyway.”

Geralt huffed. “I don’t understand.”

Jaskier patted his cheek and snuggled back against the witcher’s chest. “Dear heart, don’t you remember what you said when we first met?”

Geralt growled and Jaskier felt the sound reverberate in the witcher’s chest. “Was this when I was half dead on the path? Or later when I was half dead in the tavern?”

Jaskier snorted. “Ok, you’ve made your point, my dear witcher, but my point!” He announced with a flourish, almost hitting Geralt in the face. “Is that you called me an elf!”

“I was delirious.” Geralt grumbled.

Jaskier sighed. “There were rumours about my mother’s fidelity when she was pregnant with me, father forbade anyone from talking about it, but I’ve always wondered if my real father was an elf.” He explained to Vesemir who listened studiously. “It felt right to me and as I grew older more and more people commented that I didn’t look too dissimilar to the elves, then when Filavandrel gave me his lute… I couldn’t help but wonder if he knew.”

“But you’re human!” Geralt scoffed.

Jaskier shrugged and wrapped a lock of silver hair around his finger. “We’ll never know for sure.”

Geralt hummed and the conversation faded back to an easy silence. Lambert and Ciri’s bickering about swords and pirouettes were the only voices in the room. Jaskier hummed under his breath, a new ballad about the haunted halls of the old witcher schools that he hadn’t quite finalised yet. Geralt had one hand threaded through Jaskier’s hair and the rhythmic ministrations were making him tired. He knew that it relaxed his witcher too but he wasn’t ready to go to sleep yet.

He wanted to enjoy the company of Geralt’s family a little longer. He grumbled and nuzzled into Geralt’s chest before sliding down to the floor in front of their chair, sitting at Geralt’s feet. Geralt chuckled but let Jaskier go.

“Play for us, little lark!” Lambert grinned as white gull sloshed from his tankard.

Jaskier grinned mischievously up at Geralt and then whined pathetically. “Oh but I couldn’t possibly. My back is still sore. The lute is heavier than it looks, dear Lambert.”

Ciri met his gaze with her large emerald eyes, he could see she was panicking about causing him injury so gave her a wink. She smirked as she realised what he was up to.

“You know, I heard rumours, ballads about Geralt playing the lute at a wedding.” She feigned innocence as Geralt swore harshly.

The other witchers laughed. They’d all heard the ballads on their journeys but Jaskier hadn’t visited Kaer Morhen before and it wasn’t as if they kept a spare lute around the place.

“I’ve heard the stories too, cub.” Eskel grinned. “Come on, Geralt. Play us a song.”

“Fuck off.” Geralt growled.

Jaskier rolled his eyes. His poor White Wolf. Luckily for everyone involved, Jaskier had his witcher wrapped around his little finger.

Jaskier rested his chin on Geralt’s lap and gazed up at him through his eyelashes. He knew Geralt loved his eyes, it had been one of the first things the witcher had told him, when he was delirious from magic and potions.

“Please Geralt. For me?” He whispered softly and bit his lip for added effect.

Geralt stared back down at him, his eyes flickering to Jaskier’s lips, before growling. “Fine. Give me the damned lute.”

Jaskier took Geralt’s hands and brought them to his lips. He pressed a kiss to the witcher’s palms. “Thank you, darling.”

The other witchers whistled and Ciri groaned, calling them gross.

Jaskier didn’t care. He had his family. He had Geralt, the man he’d almost watched die right before his eyes. He’d mourned him before he could even get to know him and by some miracle they’d been given a second chance by Mihangel. Destiny had intervened and woven a tale more beautiful and more brilliant than anything he could ever write.

The bard and his witcher.

The witcher and his bard.

And their guardian angel.

Taglist: @alwenarin @slythnerd @davidtennan-t @flippinfricks @innocentcinnamonpun @dearest-queerest-nux @awitchersbard @genkitaco @justalittletomfoolery

#the witcher #geraskier #geraskier fanfiction #kaer morhen #geralt of rivia #jaskier pankratz #cirilla fiona elen riannon #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #the witcher the bard and their guardian angel #wolfie's witcher writing #elf jaskier

[jaskierswolf]

A Flutter of Wings

A belated birthday @kueble! Pre-relationship Geraskier.

Angel!Jaskier feat. wing grooming!

_

Jaskier wrapped his arms around his chest as he braced against the wind. Behind him, unseen wings fluttered as they were battered by the storm but still they marched onwards towards the next town, hoping there would be a place to stay. It wouldn’t be easy in this part of the Continent to find somewhere that would accept a witcher, but Jaskier wasn’t above a miracle or two. Although he was immortal, his corporal form was still vulnerable to the elements, and he was fucking freezing, not to mention that his back hurt and his wings were pinching from all the out of place feathers.

The silver-haired witcher had been Jaskier’s assignment since he’d been abandoned by his mother. The angels had taken pity on the young lad who had just wanted to be a hero, a knight, a saviour to those less fortunate than himself, and it had been Jaskier’s intervention that had pulled Geralt through the second round of mutations.

Not that Geralt knew that.

As far as the witcher was aware, Jaskier was just a bright-eyed bard, a highly decorated graduate of Oxenfurt. The pair of them had been travelling together for nearly a decade and Jaskier had played his part of hapless fool well. Yes, the odd miracle or two had kept him looking fresh faced, pride being a sin that he just couldn’t shake, but the witcher still hadn’t noticed and all was going wonderfully.

The Gods would be thrilled by his work on the Continent. Even after everyone had said he’d be a terrible guardian angel, Jaskier knew better. Geralt had thrived as a witcher, creating his own moral code and being a saviour to creatures and humans alike. Their first official meeting had been testament to that, Geralt desperately trying to find a middle ground for both the elves and the humans. It hadn’t quite gone to plan, and Jaskier had to use a teensy little miracle to change Filavandrel’s mind about killing his ward… the lute was just a bonus for him - a way to celebrate a good job well done.

Ten years later, he still had the lute and Geralt was alive and well. All in all he had a pretty good track record, so he really was due a break. It had been oh so tempting to cut off the wind and rain, but he’d been complaining too loudly and the sudden burst of magic would have been suspicious. That didn’t mean he wasn’t miserable and in need of a bath.

And a second room, but that would be pushing even his miracle working ways.

When they arrived at Amarillo, Geralt and Jaskier were met with cold shoulders and icy glares. It was hardly a welcoming town, but that had been expected. The inn itself was pleasant, and certainly not as run down as some of the ones they’d stayed at over the years. From inside, Jaskier could already hear the sound of lute strings, so there wouldn’t be much opportunity to play for their room and dinner, but at least it would force him to relax and hopefully Geralt would stay downstairs whilst Jaskier tried to sort out his poor, neglected wings.

“Let me talk to the innkeeper,” he suggested with a flourish, pushing Geralt off to the corner of the room. “Two rooms if you please, good sir!”

Immediately, Jaskier knew his instincts had been right. The innkeeper was stormy faced and his arms were crossed in front of his chest. With a roll of his eyes, Jaskier performed a quick miracle, and one room was made available under unforeseen circumstances. The innkeeper even arranged for a bath to be brought up to their room but hot food would be a little out of their budget. If they were lucky there would be leftovers at the end of the night.

Hopefully.

Jaskier cursed under his breath, he really should have focussed on the essentials, but his back was so fucking sore that in the heat of the moment all he could think of was a hot bath. Sighing, he ran his hands through his hair, but skipped over to Geralt to give him the good news.

“One room I’m afraid, no dinner, but I have arranged for a bath. You don’t mind staying down here whilst I take the first dip? Of course not, brilliant. Thank you, dear heart!” Jaskier trilled before Geralt could argue… or nearly before Geralt could argue. He wasn’t quite fast enough.

“I’m tired,” the witcher grumbled, all pouty and adorable, not that Jaskier would ever say that aloud. He rather liked this form, and Geralt did have two rather large swords that he wasn’t afraid to use. “I can meditate whilst you bathe, bard.”

The whine that escaped Jaskier’s throat was pathetic, but he really really wanted to groom his wings and he couldn’t do that with Geralt in the room, not without revealing who and what he was. The Gods would not be happy if he revealed what he was. Guardian angels were meant to be secret, doing their work without thanks or reward. For Jaskier, the reward was spending time with this brilliant, wonderful witcher who had stolen his heart, and he didn’t want to lose him. What if Geralt saw his wings and decided Jaskier was a monster to be slain? Or the Gods would know and he’d be reassigned to gate duty.

Oh fuck.

He couldn’t go back to gate duty. Jaskier really hated gate duty. The Continent was a wonderful and beautiful place, full of music and laughter and joy. There was nothing quite like it in the immortal realm.

“No!” he said too quickly, pushing Geralt back onto the bench with more strength than any normal human should have. The witcher grunted and raised an eyebrow as he cocked his head.

“Is this about your wings?”

Jaskier felt his stomach drop and his eyes widened. “Ah, what? No? Yes? No? Ah fuck!”

“You leave feathers behind, and there’s strange bursts of magic around you. My medallion-”

“Yes, yes! I get it! You know! Oh fuck, I am in so much trouble. Please don’t hate me?” He pouted, feeling his more angelic form starting to shimmer through his glamour as his emotions got high. “No one is meant to know about their guardian angel.”

It was Geralt’s turn to look shocked and he stared at Jaskier, golden as glowing in the candlelight of the inn. “My what?”

Bollocks.

“You didn’t know what, did you?” Jaskier realised with a sinking feeling. “Dearest Melitele, help me.”

Geralt sighed, giving Jaskier a faint but warm smile that made Jaskier feel like he was soaring above the Continent. “It’s okay, Jask, Come on, let’s go upstairs.”

The walk up to their room was filled with awkward silence, and Jaskier’s fingers fiddled with the sleeves of his doublet, hooking into a small hole that was starting to form. The wrath of the Gods weighed heavy on him, but Geralt had at least reacted well. The two swords were still strapped to the witcher’s back and he hadn’t been killed… yet?

No. This was fine. He was an angel for all the gods, and he was bloody good at keeping Geralt out of trouble. Witcher’s having a guardian was unheard of before Jaskier so they were playing a whole new game, and no one quite knew the rules. Of course Geralt had figured something out. It was his job to find monsters in the midst of men.

When the door was shut behind them, Jaskier let out a quiet sigh as he let his glamour drop and his wings unfurled into the room. Like this, it was even more painful, and he couldn’t help but cry out as his wings stretched out behind him.

“Oh fuck,” he groaned. “That’s not good.”

The gasp from Geralt confirmed his own suspicions, and wincing, Jaskier glanced over his shoulder. The white feathers were all skewed and there was some blood staining nearer the tips. Tentatively, he arched his wing and reached out to touch it, but before he could, Geralt’s fingers were wrapped around his wrist.

“Can I?”

The question surprised Jaskier. Over the years, Jaskier had always been the caretaker in moments like this; washing Geralt’s hair, massages, stitching up wounds… and Geralt had never shown any inclination of returning the favours. The jump from that to offering to groom an angel’s wings was simply not fair, and Jaskier could feel himself falling more and more in love with the witcher with every breath.

Geralt wouldn’t understand what he was offering in angel culture, but for Jaskier, it was close enough to a confession of love that he was almost vibrating with happy energy. The room glowed a little brighter because of it, and outside the storm had turned into a bright and sunny day.

“Are you sure?” He asked, more timidly than he usually would, especially with Geralt, but he was a whole bundle of nerves. His best flirting happened around people he didn’t care about.

But he loved Geralt.

Fuck, by all the gods, he loved him so damned much. He was a really terrible guardian angel, falling in love with his ward like some idiot teenage human.

Ignorant to Jaskier’s crisis of the heart, Geralt nodded and gently moved them to the bed, his fingers running along the top of Jaskier’s wings, a tender caress that sent the butterflies in his stomach into a flurry. The touch to his scapulars made a shiver go down his spine, and his eyes fluttered shut.

“What do you need?” Geralt murmured quietly, still not quite touching the out of place feathers.

“Straighten out the feathers, don’t be afraid of pulling the broken ones out.”

“But that will hurt?”

Jaskier smiled, bowing his head a little to hide his blush. “Yeah, but it’s better. I promise. You’ve seen the loose feathers before, trust me.”

And it seemed that Geralt really did trust him. After a few more sinful strokes along the top of his wings, fingers digging into the muscles where his wings joined his back, Geralt moved to the secondary feathers on Jaskier’s left wing. The way the witcher worked was methodical, going through each section thoroughly, and murmuring soft praise with every bloody feather that was removed. Jaskier bit his lip at every sharp pull, but Geralt was as gentle as he could be, and only removed the feathers if absolutely necessary. It was much kinder than Jaskier was to himself. Vanity often caused him to remove feathers for cosmetic purposes, a quick fix when he didn’t have time for a full groom, but oh he could get used to this.

Every brush of Geralt’s fingers was heavenly, and he could feel himself getting drowsy, simmering in a warm and happy state. Jaskier didn’t even notice the melodic humming rumbling in his chest, an angel’s purr… of sorts. It sounded like bells chiming in the wind, an angelic chorus. Unbeknownst to Jaskier, his halo was glowing brightly, casting a golden light across the room. He was still a little cold from the rain, but his wings were no longer causing him pain and he happily melted against his witcher.

“Thank you,” he purred quietly as Geralt finally pulled his hands away.

“Anytime, Jask,” the witcher replied, his breath hot against Jaskier’s cheek.

Anytime… Oh he really could get used to that.

_

Tag list: @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde, @comfyswitcherblanketfort, @fontegagrilledcheese, @dani-dandelino, @dapandapod @damnbert @officerjennie @feraljaskier @geralt-of-riviass @kueble @gilberik @llamasdumpsterfire @trickstermoose67 @alllthequeenshorses @skai6 @karolincki @eya-trying-to-function @stonedstargazer666 @aurelia-which-means-sunrise @hot-multifandom-mess

#the witcher #geraskier #angel!jaskier #wings #wingfic #grooming #geralt of rivia #jaskier pankratz #geralt #jaskier #wolfie's witcher writing

[jaskierswolf]

Geraskier Short Stories

(Updated: 30/08/21)

Modern AUs

The Grass is Greener - Modern fake-dating AU where Geralt helps Jaskier through a visit from his mother .- [1, 2, 3]

Born to Make History - Geraskier Ice skating AU (Part 1, 2, 3) - Lambden sequel - [x]

Fuck Indeed - An OnlyFans enemies to rivals Geraskier fic (Part 1, 2, 3, 4) 18+ Only pls - Art!

Fantasy Setting (Canonverse)

Shapeshifter!Jaskier AU - Starting with The Shape of Love. (On Tumblr)

The Bard of Kaer Morhen - Geralt is not the first witcher Jaskier meets and the witchers of Kaer Morhen get adopted by a mysterious bard. (Part 1, 2, 3, 4)

The Witcher, His Bard and Their Guardian Angel - In which Geralt is gravely injured on the path and Jaskier finds him.  (Part 1, 2, 3, 4)

The Witcher’s Companion- Jaskier meets Geralt when he’s eight and decides to train to become the best companion a witcher could ever ask for. (Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6)

Part of Your World - Seawitch Jaskier - Jaskier finds Ciri crying on the docks near Cintra and the pair set out to find her Destiny, Geralt of Rivia, together. Only no one mentioned that witchers were so fucking gorgeous and Jaskier in yearning! (Part 1, 2, 3, 4)

The Christmas Elf - AU where Jaskier is an Elf from the North Pole and accidentally ends up on the Continent with Geralt. He must work out how to replenish his magic and get back home! (Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5)

The (un)Helpful Mage- Soulmate AU in which Jaskier and Geralt get ‘cursed’.  (Part 1, 2, 3)

Worlds Apart From You - Post mountain Jaskier is feeling sorry for himself when a strangely familiar bard, going by the name Dandelion, appears out of nowhere - (Part 1, 2, 3, 4)

The Love We Have - Fake Dating at Kaer Morhen (Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5)

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

[jaskierswolf]

Geraskier One-shots

Modern AUs

Heartbreak Hotel - A dating show AU… that’s it. That’s the plot. - [x]

Black Cat - Jaskier and Geralt get ready for a halloween party [x]

Don’t Blink - Jaskier and Geralt watch a scary film. [x]

Baby It’s Cold Outside - Geraskier and Lambden, Jaskier gets injured whilst on holiday skiing. [x] - Lambden sequel - [x]

Legally Bard - A legally Blonde AU [x]

Sweet Temptation - Christmas Baking AU [x]

Burning Connection - Jask’s on OnlyFans and Geralt is horny?  [x]

Flaming Desires - The Sequel to Burning Connection [x]

You Never Said - Friends to Lovers, Buffskier [x]

Dance With Me - First kiss and baking fun [x]

Bad Idea - Doctor Geralt/Jaskier - [x]

An Ocean Away - Soulmate AU with lots of pining - [x]

Weight on my Shoulders - Sequel to An Ocean Away [x]

Wild Blue Yonder - A bookshop AU [x]

A Love He Once Knew - Reincarnation AU [x]

Santa Daddy - Jaskier has a Santa Kink [x]

A Valentine’s to Remember - Jask and Geralt fake date at an alpaca farm - [x]

Fantasy Setting

A Storm Raging on the Horizon - Jaskier is afraid of thunderstorms and Geralt comforts him. [x]

A Lover’s Kiss - After  an unfortunate encounter with a mage, Jaskier finds himself cursed  to  never be kissed again unless he can find someone who loves him.  Enter  Geralt. [x]

Just a Little Nudge - In which Jaskier and Geralt are pining for each other, and the ever patient Roach is done. [x]

A Night Alone With You - In which Jaskier is secretly an introvert and is desperate for some time  to be alone, and being alone with Geralt is just so much better. [x]

18+ I Never Knew How Much I Needed You - Ace!Geralt/Demiaro Jaskier. Just them exploring the boundaries of their relationship. [x]

Kiss me, for real this time - Fake dating AU [x]

Sing For Me - Cursed! Jaskier AU. [x]

Goose Busters - More Cursed Jaskier… I have a niche apparently? [x]

Mistletoe - Kaer Morons and Geraskier [x]

Cold as Ice - Ciri, Jask and Geralt go Ice-Skating [x]

He Had It Coming - Post-Mountain Chicago inspired smut [x]

Cold Steel - The sequel to He Had it Coming [x]

Your blood doesn’t bleed red - Vamp!Jask smutty smut [x]

A Promise - Courting fic [x]

A World of Witchers - The siege of KM never happened, and Jaskier returns to the keep with Geralt for the first time. [x]

I Love You - 18+ - Soft Geraskier smut at Kaer Morhen [x]

Under the Light of the Moon - Fluffy proposal fic. [x]

Come Live in My Heart - Nesting fic [x]

Of Banquets and Bards - Geralt gets overwhelmed at a party - [x]

A Flutter of Wings - Geralt is Jaskier’s Guardian Angel [x]

Canine Cutagens - Geralt has wolfy instincts [Part 1, 2]

A Night in Oxenfurt - Jaskier and Geralt go on pub crawl in Oxenfurt - [x]

Updated: 26/03/22

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

[ao3feed-geralt-jaskier]

by fannishliss

Jaskier gets the secrets of the Griffins out of Coën.

Words: 1738, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion, Coën (The Witcher), Vesemir (The Witcher), Eskel (The Witcher)

Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Coën/other

Additional Tags: Origins, The Witcher Lore, Kabbala, Jewish Identity, Alternate Universe - Jewish, Jewish Coën, Angels, Guardian Angels, Cherubim, Thrones, Jaskier is a bard and he Needs to Know, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, blasphemy not intended, no beta I live and so does Coën, Destiny, Headcanon

#AO3 works tagged 'Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion' #ao3feed #fanfic #the witche