#Fae Geralt

[thedemonofcat]

Jaskier is more than a little shocked when the ground suddenly opens beneath him, pulling him into a portal. After what feels like an endless fall, he lands in a strange new realm.

It doesn’t take him long to realize three things: first, he’s somehow ended up in the Fae realm; second, his arrival is no accident; and third, the king of the Fae—Geralt—has specifically chosen him to be his husband.

To his surprise, Geralt seems genuinely intent on making him happy and building a real relationship. But there’s just one small problem: the Fae have a rather loose understanding of human customs. For instance, if you’re aiming for a proper marriage…

Don’t start by kidnapping the groom.

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 139

Geralt has noticed some... Things... About his traveling companion, Jaskier. Troublesome things. Like how he's almost certainly of faeblood. It's just little things he does or says or is that make Geralt's imaginary radar go off. He never uses iron utensils, He is truthful to a fault, He's mischievous and lustful, He never breaks a promise, not in an honorable way, but almost in a way as if fate is forcing his body to complete whatever he promised, no matter what. He's also gorgeous. Even in times when the road should've worn him down. Where there should be dust or grime, Jaskier somehow still shines like a freshly polished jewel. And don't even get Geralt started on the impossibility of Jaskier's freakishly vibrant blue eyes. That is NOT human! There are always wildflowers when Jaskier walks in the woods, even sometimes when they are out of season. Trees seem to bend toward him, always making a cover for the rain to keep him dry. When he went swimming, Geralt swears the water looks cleaner afterward. One time Geralt got tired of human-safe food, and decided to cook their dinner that night differently. He cooked one serving all the way, safe for humans, and one only a little, still nice and raw, unsafe for humans. And yet Geralt came back from feeding Roach to find Jaskier happily chowing down on the raw one. Geralt went to warn him, but stopped. Could Jaskier really not tell the difference? Surely the texture and taste was different... And then Jaskier was done. Geralt waited a few days, just sure Jaskier would fall ill, as humans usually did when eating food Geralt has learned is unsafe for them, but Jaskier didn't fall ill. In fact, he seemed healthier than ever. Which could only mean he isn't human. When Geralt talks to Jaskier and hints about knowing however, Jaskier doesn't seem to realize. Which means he must not even know. Geralt paces around camp. How is he to break the news to Jaskier that Jaskier has fae in his blood? Perhaps his mother cheated, perhaps one of his parents were a changeling, perhaps a grandparent wasn't what they said they were, perhaps he, himself, is a changeling... Jaskier returns from a bathroom break and cocks an eyebrow at his witcher pacing around camp like a restless animal. "Geralt? Darling, what are y-" "Jaskier, you're fae." Geralt blurts. Fuck. That is not how he wanted to break the news to poor Jaskier. Jaskier is standing there, face paling, eyes wide, breath coming in short rasps. It's difficult news to deliver, and Geralt did it insensitively. Jaskier seems to be panicking. Geralt will help him, will comfort him. Fae or not, that's his Jaskier. Jaskier is freaking the FUCK out. Geralt found out he's fae! Fuckfuckfuck! He thought he was so good at hiding it! Sure, there were a few slipups here and there, as there is with any big secret, but he really thought Geralt was none the wiser! He should've known the monsterhunter would recognize a monster when he saw one. Now Jaskier must decide if he'll die by Geralt's hand, or try to outrun the witcher, as surely no man wants to be companions with a member of the trickster faefolk.

[kittenofdoomage]

Off The Trail

THIS WORK IS ALSO AVAILABLE ON AO3. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST OR COPY MY STORIES. 18+ CONTENT AHEAD.

Summary: Getting lost on a hike leads to a more intense kind of adventure.

Fandom: The Witcher

Pairing: Fae!Geralt x fem!reader

Word Count: 2858

Warnings: fairy circles, faun!Geralt, fae!Geralt, horns, otherworldly creatures, sex as payment (sort of?), smut (incl. Oral sex, fingering, size kink, Geralt’s massive package, prep, repeated orgasms, slight cockwarming), a tiny plot twist

You were absolutely lost. Somewhere along the way, you took a wrong turn, losing the hiking path you were following, too busy staring at the beautiful forest surrounding you to realize the marked path had become grass, then bushes. Now, there was no sign of the trail, and you couldn’t tell which way was which. Even your phone was no help, and was close to running out of battery, despite being charged that morning.

For a little while, you walked in circles, finally getting exhausted and stopping for a drink. You packed plenty of supplies, so you took a break, looking around at the cute little toadstools, listening to the bird song. When you were done, you got to your feet, intent on finding your way out, and you noticed that the toadstools actually formed a complete circle around you.

You shrugged, and started to walk. As you lifted your foot to step over the mushrooms, it connected with something, knocking you off balance and backwards onto your butt. Yelping at the sudden impact, you stared at the ring, unable to see anything. Getting to your feet, you tried again, holding your hands out as you moved forward but the same invisible barrier prevented you from leaving.

“What the fuck?” you exclaimed, punching at the air. Your knuckles connected painfully and you cried out, clutching your hand to your chest.

At a loss for what to do, you walked around the perimeter, following the line of mushrooms. The barrier appeared to be just before the circle, preventing you from damaging any of the fungi which could possibly have freed you. With a grunt, you returned to the center, sitting down and pulling out your phone. It beeped at you, warning of the low battery, and you held it up, fruitlessly trying to get a signal.

The phone promptly died, and you yelled, throwing it. It passed through the barrier, bouncing off of the mossy grass, now utterly out of reach. Your screeched ‘fuck’ disturbed a few birds in the nearby trees, and when you threw yourself backwards, you covered your face, sobbing out your frustration.

You weren’t an inexperienced hiker. People knew you were out on that particular trail, and you couldn’t have gotten too far from it. Someone would eventually find you, but it could be hours.

Night fell quicker than you expected. The temperature didn’t drop much, but you shivered still, sitting in the center of the circle, hugging your knees as the clouds parted and the moon shone brilliantly above you. In the midst of your despair, you looked up, staring in awe at the carpet of stars that shone, unimpeded by any unnatural light. You had never seen the stars so bright.

A chittering dragged your attention back to your predicament. Around you, bushes rustled, and you thought you could see things moving in the shadows. Your immediate concern had been food and water; now you were concerned about being eaten by something else. This park wasn’t supposed to have any large predators but just because they’d never been seen, didn’t mean they didn’t exist.

The tiny sounds became clearer as you listened, sounding more like excited little chatter rather than anything threatening. You squinted into the darkness, then got to your feet to get as close to the edge of the circle as you could, though it was pointless when you saw nothing. As you stared, the noises stopped, and an almost reverent silence fell over the forest. Even the wind stopped, and you held your breath as something started to emerge from the shadows.

He wasn’t quite a man. Instead of feet, he walked on cloven hooves, and thick black fur covered his lower half, a stark contrast to the long white hair on his head. Curling horns sprouted from either side of his head, twisting into points above his ears, and his eyes were pools of gold, glowing in the darkness. The moonlight shone on his pale, scarred skin, glinting off of a medallion at his throat, which appeared to be the only thing he was wearing. His handsome, ethereal face fixed on you as he grew closer, and his true size made your knees shake.

You swallowed, frozen on the spot. A hundred possibilities rushed through your mind; it could be an elaborate prank, or some sort of television show being filmed out here, or maybe you had hit your head and were currently hallucinating or dreaming. You contemplated every one, avoiding the most obvious of them all.

It was real.

The creature stalked towards you, nostrils flaring and lips twitching, and you still couldn’t move. He stopped at the edge of the circle, folding his arms across his chest as he regarded you.

“You have trespassed, little one,” he murmured, close enough now to touch if he wasn’t on the other side of your invisible prison. His voice was rough yet well-spoken, inspiring butterflies in your stomach. “What do you offer as a recompense?”

Your mind scrambled, realizing quickly he wanted something as payment. There was very little in your pack besides food and spare clothing, tools, maybe a few dollars in your wallet, though you suspected he wouldn’t care for any of it. “Um, I -” You thrust your hands into your pockets, coming up with nothing as he looked on with amusement. “I don’t -”

“What is your name?” he asked softly, tilting his head to one side, almost studying you. You gave it in a whisper, staring up at him as he contemplated you. When he took a step forward, crossing the barrier, you scrambled back, uncertain of his intentions. “You may call me Geralt,” he said, head bowed as he pressed one hand to his broad chest.

Your voice was thick with nerves. “W-what are you?”

His lips curled into a smile, and he began to walk around you, smiling more when you followed in a slow turn, reluctant to turn your back on him. “Do humans not still tell stories of my kind? Sing songs of the folk of the forests?” Your eyes widened. “Fae folk?” he attempted again.

“I mean,” you fumbled, worried that you might accidentally insult him, “we have fairy tales, and books, that sort of thing. But… none of that’s real.” You trailed off as he stopped, a little closer than he had been. “Except you’re… very real.”

“Hmmm, so we are only stories,” he huffed with amusement. “It has been a long time since one of your kind strayed into our realm.”

“Your realm?” you whispered in surprise.

He gestured to the perfect circle of toadstools. “You stepped through the doorway,” he explained, “and I shall send you back. For a price.”

Once again, you faltered, unsure what you could offer. “I have some food, uh, money?”

His laughter at the suggestion was musical, and he stepped forward, forcing you to lift your chin to maintain eye contact. “I have no use for gold,” he drawled, “and no need for your food.”

“Well, um,” you stooped, scooping up your bag, “this is pretty much everything I have with me.” You opened it but he ignored you, keeping his gaze locked on your face, and you began to get the impression he didn’t want anything material from you. Your thighs clenched, and you felt sweat on your lower back, snaking down under the waistband of your leggings. “I don’t know what you want,” you whispered.

His large hand closed around yours, prying the bag from your grip before he tossed it across the circle. “Only a taste,” he purred, licking his lips. “You may decide if you want more.”

You barely had a second to process what was happening when he pulled you close, bending to press his lips to yours. His fingers were warm against your cheek, and he tasted like fruit, though you were immediately preoccupied by your body’s swift reaction to his touch. He was at least two feet taller than you, prompting you to push up on your toes to kiss him back.

“Do you agree to the exchange?” he asked, running his thumb over your bottom lip.

Maybe you were crazy but you suddenly couldn’t think of anything you’d want more. You nodded, managing only a squeak of consent before he was pushing you down onto the ground, long fingers tugging at the waistband of your leggings. An abrupt realization of what was about to happen made you yelp when he had your clothing down around your knees. Your boots stopped him for only a second, and you could only gasp when your naked lower half was assaulted by the cool air.

“It has been a long time since I had a human,” he rumbled, spreading your thighs wide. “And you smell so very sweet.”

The first touch of his tongue against your cunt made your eyes roll back, and a shuddering moan escaped from your lips. Geralt nuzzled into you, exploring you at leisure, easily finding the right spots to make you whimper as your arousal increased. Even the tip of his horns brushing against your inner thighs was arousing, and when you reached down to touch one, he grunted into you, chuckling when you wrapped your fingers around the thick base.

His tongue pressed into you, fucking into your slick channel as you moaned and writhed, held in place by one huge hand. It wasn’t enough stimulation to cum, but it was enough to make your veins buzz with pleasure, and you stared up at the starry sky as you bathed in his touch. Eventually, he withdrew, dragging his tongue up to your clit, making you mewl pitifully when he suckled at it. His free hand brushed against your ass, two fingers suddenly pressing into the dripping hole he’d abandoned, and you cried out as he penetrated you, working you into a frenzy within seconds.

With one hand on his horns and the other twisted in the moss, you came hard, crying out over and over. Geralt didn’t stop, lapping up what you had to offer until you went slack; he chuckled as he got to his knees, sucking at his fingers. “Very very sweet,” he murmured, reaching out to tease your clutching hole again.

“Is that -” You couldn’t breathe properly, and your heart was racing. “Is that it?”

“The choice is yours,” he replied smoothly. “I am satisfied with my taste but if you wish to offer a higher payment -”

“I -” This day literally couldn’t get any weirder, you thought, shaking your head to try and clear the fog from your orgasm, what’s the harm in finishing what I started?

He narrowed his eyes with a knowing smile, almost like he was sensing your internal monologue. “Do you want me to fuck you?” he asked firmly, one huge warm hand on your thigh.

“Yes,” you whined, reaching for him. He grinned, catching your hand as he loomed over you on all fours, and you felt it for the first time. It extended from a furry sheath, human in shape though far far larger in both length and girth. “That won’t - it won’t fit -”

He seemed to find that funny, taking hold of your hand to wrap your fingers around the mammoth erection prodding at your belly. “It will,” he promised. “I will not hurt you.”

Two fingers pushed inside you again and you mewled, arching underneath him. His cock throbbed in your hand, dribbling precum onto your stomach as he rutted into your hold. You still weren’t sure of his confidence in your ability to handle such a beast, but your curiosity had taken you too far for you to back out now.

He added a third finger, stretching your cunt around the intrusion. You gasped, squeezing at his cock, and he growled, withdrawing his hand to tear at your clothing. It wasn’t the cold that made you shiver when you were finally nude underneath him, but the sheer hunger in his golden eyes. Pulling your hand away from his cock, he leaned back, stuffing your pussy with his fingers again.

“I want to hear you scream again,” he grunted, sliding his thumb over your clit. You nodded listlessly, helpless to his desire, barely even fighting against the wave of ecstasy that made your head swim and your limbs feel like jelly. His fingers kept moving, thrusting deeper and deeper, thumb pressing into your clit with harder circles each time; you had no hope against the bliss he conjured, and granted him exactly what he wanted.

As he loomed over you, he coaxed your trembling legs up and apart. You felt the weight of his cock against your cunt, cooing lightly when he rubbed the thick tip through your folds, gathering up your wetness before he stopped, hitching at your entrance, only threatening to breach. Your breath caught in your throat, and he reached out, catching your chin between his thumb and forefinger.

“Look at me,” he murmured huskily, rocking his hips forward. “Show me how you fall apart when I’m inside you.”

There was no pain as he split you open, working inch after inch into your tight cunt. You cried out at the sensation, pinned by his weight, at his mercy until he was finally sheathed deep, throbbing and hot inside you. His heavy balls rested against your ass, and you groaned, clenching around him. He answered with an equally heady noise, releasing your throat to crush his mouth against yours again. The kiss was short, yet dizzying, and he granted you no time to adjust before he was leaning back on his haunches, dragging your ass onto his furry thighs and driving his cock deeper into your ruined cunt.

Moonlight bathed your naked skin with an eerie glow as he fucked into you, every stroke harder than the last, until you couldn’t think for the almost delirious state of arousal he had you in. He pawed at your breasts, teasing your nipples into hardened peaks, alternating between the two as you dug your fingers into the grass in an effort to ground yourself. It didn’t work, and you couldn’t stop your own cries of ecstasy as he possessed you entirely.

He withdrew, easily flipping you onto your stomach before he was straddling your thighs, pushing his cock back into you. You squeaked at the added pressure, and your eyes rolled as he started to slam into a certain singular spot that made you see stars. Your cries became silent, overcome by his grunts and growls, and you felt like he was growing impossibly large inside you, a warning for what was to come.

“I’m going to fill you up,” he growled, grasping at your hip to hold you in place, making it clear that he wasn’t going to let you get away. You clawed at the ground, lifting your shoulders only to find yourself pinned by his other hand. The restraint, coupled with his still-strong thrusts, awakening something primal and needy inside you, and you stopped fighting, lifting your ass to accept his seed. The submission seemed to tip him over the edge, and he roared, sinking in to the root to ride out his climax right against your cervix. Every pulse of his orgasm unwittingly dragged you through another too, and you collapsed, whimpering into the dirt as he remained buried inside you.

You had nothing left. Your breathing slowed as Geralt rested above you, eventually rolling with you until you were laying on your side, still filled to the brim with his consistently hard cock. It was strangely comforting, and you dozed off, warming him as he nestled around your smaller frame.

The sky began to change from black to pinks and oranges as the sun rose, reflecting off of puffy white clouds that slowly materialized. You stirred, stretching out naked on the grass, feeling the heavy bulk of the faun behind you. He lifted his head, nuzzling at your shoulder before looking over towards the trees. “I should return you to your own kind,” he mumbled, one hand sliding over your belly, still swollen with him. “I shall think of you often, little one.”

You sighed, closing your eyes. Smiling, you opened them to tell him that maybe you would come back, or maybe even that you didn’t have to go, but when you opened them again, you were back in your clothes, and the toadstools were gone. Someone was calling your name in the distance, and you scrambled for your backpack and your forgotten phone, glancing around to see if Geralt had stayed or -

You were alone. There was no sign to say he’d ever been there, nothing to show for your night together except for the delicious ache between your legs. Even now, the memory was beginning to fade, leaving behind a sort of grief for something that never could have been. You sighed, dropping your shoulders, and then you began to walk in the direction of the rangers calling your name.

From the trees, Geralt watched, smiling to himself. You would figure it out eventually, and then you’d come back to him. He just had to wait.

THANK YOU FOR READING, PLEASE CONSIDER REBLOGGING SO OTHERS CAN ENJOY IT 😁

[spielzeugkaiser]

Someone beat me to OnlyFans, so you can ignore that prompt lol. How about a throwback to fae!Jaskier? Maybe give him a holly crown?

An oldie but goldie! They are married in that 'verse, soooo... Accidental proposing through magic and flowers? Yesss

[gregre369]

Jaskier and young Vesemir would definitely have fucked.

[flavoredfaeman]

Sharing a private moment

[spilledbutter]

alright back on my fae!jaskier bullshit

there are myths of fairies assuming the guise of animals

imagining jaskier in animal form acting as a companion for the witchers and helping them out in times of need

like lambert is getting stiffed by an alderman so jaskier turns into a magpie and starts pecking the shit out of the alderman and shitting in his hair until he drops his coin purse for lambert to take

geralt gets injured on a really difficult hunt and jaskier turns into a horse and hauls him bodily back to camp

eskel needs help getting information for a quest so jaskier turns into a mouse and sneaks into rooms and listens to conversations to help him spy and reports back what he's learned

but ALSO imagining him using his powers for evil

jaskier couldn't sleep all night and is up before eskel for once. he turns into a rooster and wakes him right the fuck up because he's bored

jaskier turning into a horse to talk shit about geralt with roach. they keep neighing and whinnying together and geralt gets progressively more and more annoyed. he will not tell geralt what was said

he and lambert need to cross a fast-moving river and the bridge is broken. jaskier, the little shit, turns into a fish and swims easily across. lambert has to figure out how to cross on his own

i could honestly keep going this is so fucking funny to me

[bardcore-jaskier]

♡My immortal Jaskier headcanons♡

So here are my headcanons, because I refuse to believe that our ball of sunshine has an expiration date...

So, I know Lauren said that Jaskier not aging in the show was just a filming mistake, something they simply forgot to do and on a completely logical level I am fully aware that in canon Jaskier is completely human, 100%. And I also know that they're not gonna change it, no matter how much some of us may wish they did (Although why not? They already strayed so far from the books and made so many changes, might as well go the extra mile)

Realistic-ish headcanons:

- Jaskier is part elf, perhaps quarter elf like Yennefer, it is an entirely justifiable headcanon, theoretically, Jaskier's human father could have married a half elf commoner woman (who may or may not have had the pointy tips on her ears cut off with a knife to avoid human prejudice)

- Jaskier has a fae ancestor, somewhere many many generations back in his ancestry, so his entire family is suspiciously long lived but nobody cares because Lettenhove isn't politically important and therefore doesn't catch the attention of the prejudiced Nobles farther up the royal court chain.

- Jaskier unintentionally drinks the same elixir mages/sorcerers drink to prolong their life. I read that chaos wielders don't have naturally long lifespans, they semi-regularly drink an elixir with mandrake roots in it to slow the aging process. According to Witcher Wiki, you can only buy mandrake root in Lindenvale and my headcanon is that Jaskier experiments with many different tea blends to see which one is more effective for soothing his throat after singing. So at the age of 29-30, he wanders into Lindenvale and buys some dried mandrake to make a tea, after one sip he felt more rejuvenated than ever and since that day, mandrake root tea has become his number one go-to, he drinks it as often as he can.

More fanfic centric, less canon possible headcanons:

- Jaskier is a Dryad. (Yayyy trans Jaskier headcanon) Since Lettenhove is so tiny, it isn't even on the Witcher continent map, but a simple Google search says that it is Located somewhere in Kerack. Kerack borders with Brokilon, so it's kind of a nifty little loophole for fanfic writers to use and place Lettenhove somewhere near the forests where Dryads live.

And while most Dryads treat any man that enters their realm as a mere sperm donor, Witcher Wiki does also mention that some Dryads can form emotional relationships and fall in love with humans and/or elves, but in the end, all Dryad born offspring is AFAB. So imagine this, Jaskier's father falls in love with a Dryad, she falls in love with him, they have Jaskier, Jaskier notices early on that he feels like a boy and his rich Viscount father hires a mage to help Jaskier transition early.

- Jaskier is a higher vampire, higher vampires are a HIGHLY secretive society, even in canon, part of the reason why even Witchers have so little information about them is because they prefer to hide in plain sight and are ridiculously good at it. Jaskier doesn't age, has no self-preservation instincts, doesn't buy a horse and yet still keeps up with Geralt on foot for 20 years. Jaskier's personality isn't fake, he doesn't act like someone else, it's all him, but his clumsiness is a little bit of an act, he also purposefully avoids physical fights, it comes across as fear of getting hurt but in reality it's because he's afraid of appearing too strong and exposing himself. Lettenhove doesn't appear on maps, because it doesn't exist legally, it's just a castle hidden in the woods, a safe place for higher vampires, kinda like Kaer Morhen is for Witchers, Jaskier's parents just happen to be the ones who run it.

[kabobroaster]

Forget Me Not

Okay friends let’s picture it:

Young Julian, like 4 or 5, is sitting in the garden one evening trying to sing a song to the flowers so they will grow big and beautiful. His parents had gotten annoyed with his noisier as and sent him out of their presence for the night.

Now Julian knew not to be cross in front of his parents as it often earned him a fierce scolding and he had no friends on account of having never left his families estate. So the flowers would be his friends. The flowers and the herbs and the insects that tended the garden more dutifully than any human could. He would sing to the roses and the lilies and forget me nots.

When he had gotten into a spot of mischief he would whisper his secrets to the lemon balm and when he was sad he tell his woes to the rosemary. And they really were the best of friends. The denizens of the garden never thought Julian was unruly or too loud. His green companions never showed him from their company. So he sand to them nightly because it was the only gift he could give them in return for their company.

But one night Julian’s father had been fed up with Julian trouncing in the muck and singing nonsense to plants. He had struck little Julian across the face and had the boy locked in his chambers. Julian wept into his pillow, not just from the sting on his cheek but because his father said he would be walking off the garden, depriving Julian of his only friends in the world. But garden had grown fond of little Julian.

That night the leaves on shrubs and bushes called out to the nearby forest. They rustled back and forth parlaying for the young boys freedom. The forest said that it would shelter no human for they were cruel and sought only to take and chop and burn. And so all the denizens of the garden came to a decision. They drew the magic and life that flowed in all things and crept their roots to Julian’s window. They reach inside and curled about his sleeping form. They poured forth all the life and magic within themselves into little Julian. Transforming him into a not quite human. The magic of the soil and breeze and rain was infused into the little boys very bones. Ever would he smell of roses and rosemary. Plants would flourish under his touch. The insects and little birds lent their voice to the little boy making his voice lovely beyond bearing. The beetles and mice let him walk quiet and unseen. The dirt would let neither time nor illness strip away his vitality. The berries and fruit made his kiss sweet and sour.

As the garden worked its magic the plants began to wither. For they had exchanged their life and for the little boy to be not human enough to live in the forest. Their last gift made his eyes as blue as his forget me nots, so that little Julian would always remember his first friends. His name was no longer Julian, but Jaskier. He was the gardens little buttercup, their precious poison.

When the sun rose over the estate the residents found the garden desiccated. The earth was dry and cracked, their plants dried and dead, the flowers drained of all their color. When Julian’s father came to his room to see if his son had learned his lesson he found the room empty and a husk of a cocoon formed from dried roots and vines on the bed. The open window looked out over the once vibrant garden. On the window sill was a vibrant bundle of forget me nots.

[churchofpossum]

Sweet Nectar and Ambrosia

A patreon request for fae!Geralt from May. Full pic plus a sketch sheet can be found on Twitter.

[thedemonofcat]

On this day, Jaskier made the choice to leave the safety of his family's estate. His parents had begun plotting the most advantageous marriage for him, one that would benefit Lettenhove and elevate their family's status.

Desperate for an escape, Jaskier sought refuge in the nearby forest, drawn by its perfect acoustics for his lute. As he played his music, the last thing he expected was to attract an audience.

Especially not the Fae King Geralt. Nor did Jaskier imagine that his song would be interpreted as an invitation for marriage between them.

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Jaskier never makes promises. He literally never says the word “promise”, and he swears no oaths.

It’s a subtle quirk. It takes Geralt years to notice. When he points it out, Jaskier says with false levity, “I guess I don’t.”

From the bard’s body language, Geralt can see he doesn’t want to talk about it, so the topic is dropped.

Years later—after Geralt screams his fury at Jaskier—the bard says in a broken voice, “Don’t worry, Geralt. I promise not to bother you anymore.”

The promise sears itself onto Geralt’s soul like a brand. One made of chaos, and he can feel it become binding.

Geralt whips around, but Jaskier was gone.

There are a few moments of confusion before Geralt realizes what just happened. Jaskier had promised, and that promise was sealed with chaos. Only the Fae have such an ability.

YESSSSSSS i love this Geralt has to track down Jaskier and prove that Jaskier doesn't bother him, and thus the promise is still ringing true, even as they continue traveling together

[z0mbie2b0y]

This is shit but here

Idk how tags work but here is my gift to the geraskefer fans😭

[hudine]

This came into my head, just a snippet really after playing Baldur’s Gate 3 while listening to Witcher fanfiction I downloaded from AO3 and get a screen reader to read for me; all the while with a temperature of 102.3F or roughly 39C. This is when you are supposed to gather allies during act 3…. No real spoilers for BG3 but one for The Witcher 3. This is also a Fae!Jaskier snippet of a fic

In the flickering light of the campfire, Jaskier the bard stood slightly apart from the rest, his mind racing through realms of possibilities, not all of them confined to the world of music and poetry. Tonight, he had a different kind of audience in mind—Jergal, the Lord of the End of Everything, who had manifested on this plane as Withers.

"Jergal," Jaskier began, his voice confident yet infused with a respectful tone, as he approached the ancient god. The camp was quiet, the rest of the party attending to their gear, oblivious to the conversation that was about to unfold.

"Indeed," replied the god, his voice as dry as the dust of forgotten tombs. "And to what do I owe the honor of this direct address, Prince of the Fae?"

Jaskier smiled, the title echoing with irony even here, in a realm so distant from his own. "I come to discuss a matter of balance and transition. You preside over the fate of souls, guiding them to their rightful afterlives. But what if a soul's rightful place is not within the confines of this world or its celestial realms?"

Jergal's empty sockets seemed to deepen, considering. "Continue," he intoned.

Jaskier stepped closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "These Witchers, they belong to another reality. Their souls were never meant to traverse the pathways of this world's afterlife. By resurrecting them here, aren't you merely adjusting their course, redirecting them to continue their fight in a different form of existence, akin to an afterlife?"

Jergal paused, the skeletal fingers of one hand tapping against his chin—a gesture almost human, thought Jaskier. "Your words are woven with the cunning of your kind," Jergal finally said. "But they hold a kernel of truth. These souls, if unclaimed by other deities or powers, might indeed be considered for such... relocation. What do you propose?"

Jaskier's eyes glinted with the thrill of the gamble. "For every Witcher's soul you agree to resurrect, I will pay two hundred gold pieces. Their names will only be offered by those who knew them in life, and there must be no other claim upon their spirits."

"A novel form of afterlife," mused Jergal, a ghost of amusement in his tone. "Very well, Prince Jaskier. Who will you name first?"

"Vesemir of Kaer Morhen," Jaskier replied promptly. "Slain in the defence against the Wild Hunt, a mere five years ago."

With a gesture from Withers, the air shimmered, and the form of Vesemir coalesced by the fire. His eyes, sharp and clear, flicked from Jaskier to the god standing before him.

"Where am I?" Vesemir's voice was rough with confusion.

Jaskier stepped forward, quickly explaining the situation and the role Vesemir could now play. Understanding dawned in the old Witcher's eyes, followed by a spark of determination.

"Then let's begin," Vesemir said, turning to Withers. "I can name quite a few who deserve another chance to swing a blade."

As Jaskier and Vesemir listed names, Withers, bound by the terms of their agreement, summoned each Witcher back into existence. The gold piled by Jaskier dwindled, but with each resurrection, the camp grew louder, more boisterous with reunions and disbelief.

By the time Geralt returned with Tav, Astarion, and Gale, the camp was transformed. Witchers long thought lost to the world were now laughing, sharing stories, and yes, liberally sampling the camp's stock of alcohol.

"What's happened here?" Geralt asked, his voice a mix of shock and awe as he recognised familiar faces from his past, some from his very childhood.

"Jaskier happened," Vesemir chuckled, clapping the bard on the back. "He's found us a new kind of afterlife—one with a bit more fighting and a lot more drinking."

Geralt looked at Jaskier, a mix of emotions playing across his face. Finally, he smiled, the tension easing from his shoulders. "Only you, Jaskier, could orchestrate the resurrection of an army and turn it into a festival."

Jaskier bowed slightly, his face alight with mischief and pride. "Well, we have battles to fight, and who better to fight them with than brothers long thought lost?"

The camp buzzed with energy as the newly resurrected Witchers swapped tales with their saviour, making plans for the coming conflict. Geralt moved among them, every so often looking back at Jaskier with a shake of his head and a grin. He always was good with loopholes and pushing boundaries.

Finding out he was actually a Seelie Prince who got himself stuck without access to his magic within Geralt’s world honestly didn’t surprise him when he thought about it. He had always suspected Jaskier had some fae ancestry especially once it became obvious that he wasn’t aging. Also no bard, no matter how talented, could write a song like Toss A Coin and have it spread so far and so fast and actually make people believe that it’s good luck to toss coins at Witchers. At least it was better than rocks. Coins hurt just as much sometimes but at least you can spend a coin unlike a rock.

[hanzajesthanza]

one of the things season of storms does right is it replicates the positively chaotic energy of the short stories in one ☝️ aspect:

geralt running into dandelion in public, or dandelion showing up randomly, and geralt having an endeared, surprised take worthy of an anime protagonist where he goes “hey, it’s my best friend dandelion!!”

and they basically are like

what i love is that it’s always framed so coincidentally, like ‘who could have imagined we would randomly run into each other just now !!’ but this happens, what, in bounds of reason, eternal flame, something more… (one could also count voice of reason, perhaps) … you can see the author’s pen throwing them together, for the reason that it would be interesting…

maciej parowski (late editor of fantastyka, and of the wiedźmin early 90s comics) said in an interview that the world (of the short stories) is relatively small and the characters cross paths, bump into each other easily. they’ll never stray very far from one another. i think this kind of magic is exemplified by geralt and dandelion’s friendship…

[flavoredfaeman]

Dandelion taking a nap 😴😴