#Jaskier X Reader

[welikeimagines-andfandoms]

‘If you get grossed out by pubic hair and talking about periods, you don’t deserve pussy’ kinda characters

[super-marvel-dc]

Y/N: ARE YOU-

Geralt: Fucking.

Y/N: KIDDING ME?! YOU-

Geralt: Fucking.

Y/N: IDIOT!

Jaskier: …What was that?

Geralt: I banned Y/N from swearing, so I’m helping them out.

[theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction]

Imagine Geralt realising how pissed you are after running into you again…

It was another busy day where knights, men and women of all corners came in to rest their battle-weary feet and drink mead. There would be the occasional brawl but they were nothing when you compared it to battling a cursed wyvern with a blindfold.

You exited the back room having just refilled the pitcher of cool mead when a familiar grunt caught your attention. Just behind a rowdy table of farmers, in the corner, sat the Witcher - Geralt of Rivia - and a bard who was far too chipper while sober.

Inching a little closer, you busied yourself with empty flagons while remaining within earshot of the pair.

“Come on - it’s not a bad lyric. Ah, what do you know? You can wield a sword but not understand the complex meaning behind a beautiful string of words.” The bard said.

Geralt scoffed. “It wasn’t complex.”

An old man slid a few coins across the table for the service which you pocketed and then moved on to the next.

“We can’t stay long.” Geralt told his companion. You glanced back briefly and saw the brightly dressed man staring into his coin satchel, concerned.

“I could swear there was more silver in here. Geralt, I think I’ve been indecently swindled.”

You wanted to confirm that the man could easily have fallen prey to the notorious pick-pockets that haunt the tavern but you stayed silent, now distracted by a customer who ordered some pies.

“Don’t forget the carrots this time.” He reminded.

You wanted to tell him where to shove his carrots but heard your name being shouted from across the floor.

“Y/n, I need a word!” It was the tavern owner who enjoyed paying you less than what you were owed. With a sigh, you trudged over to him away from most prying ears. “You’ve been waiting on those tables long enough. Deliver those pies and refill goblets on the double or I’ll show you out the door.”

You had half a mind to bite back but chose to hold the words at bay. In ten minutes, the pie was ready to be collected from the kitchens. As you walked it to the table, you made the decision to confront Geralt but upon approaching his table, found that the Witcher and his bard had vanished, leaving behind some coins for the hospitality.

Geralt would have heard your name being bellowed. He would have seen you answer the call. And yet, he still left?

Typical!

The farmer who had ordered the food found his plate empty as you swerved around his chair and rushed out the wooden door. Turning left, you followed the small path down to where riders often tied their horses, your own being one of them - spotting the familiar silver hair and lute of the bard.

Words appeared to have failed and rational thoughts had abandoned your mind the second you fled.

Your hand flipped the pie out of its casing and with one, well-aimed throw, found its mark. The bard screamed and the Witcher stopped in his tracks instantly stilling for a few seconds.

Then he turned, his jaw clenched. “Did you throw a meat pie at my head?”

You tossed the empty pan over your shoulder. “You bet I did and I’ll do it again.”

The bard at Geralt’s side grabbed his guitar and hid behind the broad-shouldered man fearing that he would be next. “Oh, they’re pissed. What did you do?”

Geralt exhaled as he pulled stray bits of pastry out of his locks. “I’m not sure…”

“Not sure? You fucking ignored me in the tavern! Friends for years and it doesn’t warrant a simple ‘hello’?” You yelled.

Jaskier peered out from behind, “Oh, he’s always like that. We’ve been friends for several weeks and he pretends to hardly know me - such a jest.” He chuckled to himself quite fondly.

Ignoring the brightly coloured song man, Geralt addressed you, now free from the discarded food. He had indeed acknowledged the your presence the minute he set foot in the tavern but found himself reliving old memories instead - some good, others painful.

“I didn’t think you’d want to see me after that business with the striga.”

“The striga?” You repeated, remembering the event he was referring to where he had taken claim over the beasts defeat instead of giving you proper recognition. “That was over a year ago, I was bitter for perhaps a few weeks but no more. But you wouldn’t know that because you ran off with Roach.”

“I didn’t run off - I just - you were injured and I had no reason to hang around while you healed.” The Witcher explained. “In hindsight, I probably should have checked in.”

You nodded vehemently. “And since you didn’t, you’re very deserving of that meat pie.”

“The pie was mean.” Geralt frowned.

“Oh a tale of a strained but beautiful friendship filled with battles and miscommunication - you must regale me with the details.” Jaskier grinned.

You would gladly do so if your old friend would have your company once more. Raising a brow at Geralt, you posed the silent question.

“Don’t you have a job?” Geralt asked.

You squinted in return. “I abandoned my post and stole a pie. I’m surely fired.”

“Fine - but only until the next village.” The Witcher negotiated, knowing full well that his friend would likely be staying for a longer time. He grabbed the reins and pulled himself up on his horse with a small grunt.

You shared a similar grin to the bard and sent a high whistle into the air to call forth your own steed for the journey ahead.

When the horse approached, you took hold of the reins and walked alongside Jaskier.

“While we’re on the topic, I’ll tell you about the time when Geralt fought an ifrit almost fully naked.” You winked and caught the eye roll on your friends face.

Jaskier pulled his guitar to the front and strummed a few strings to start a catchy tune. “Oh, I’m ready for this.”

~ More imagines here ~

[queenxxxsupreme]

Rare Encounters (Jaskier x f!witcher!reader)

A/N: hi guys…. I finished Fallout the tv show and it gave me that urge to write that I haven’t had in a while. Now fingers crossed that it works for the long run. Once I can get a good feel for the Fallout universe, my ass will 100% be writing fallout fics 😂

Warnings: nothing outside of canon

Summary: Jaskier meets his first female witcher.

“I swear, you all live like fucking pigs.” You grumbled as you picked up the empty tankards and bowls.

“Oh, just relax, Y/N.” Lambert spoke from across the room. He sat at a table with most of the other wolves as they told stories and carried on. “No one cares what this place looks like.”

“I do, as should you.” You placed the dirty dishes on to the end of one of the empty tables. “Who is going to be doing dishes tonight?”

All of the wolves diverted their eyes away from you.

“Oh come on, boys. It’s just dishes. You’ve done worse, I’m sure of it.”

“I’d rather gut an ekimorra than do house chores.” Coen shook his head.

“Alright. Well then, I’ll just choose for myself who will be the lucky one.”

“When are ya goin’ to get eaten by a cockatrice or something, Y/N?” The redhead wolf teased. “All this nagging you do is–,”

With a flick of your wrist and a sign of aard, Lambert was sent backwards off of the bench. You grinned just a little.

“You fucking–,” He signed aard back at you the second he was on his feet, but you were quick to sign quen, blocking his attack.

“Don’t start that this early in the winter, Lambert.” Vesemir scolded him as he moved to sit next to Coen.

“Me?” Lambert raised his brows. “She’s the one who started it!”

The doors to the keep opened, bringing in a rush of cold wind. You looked up to see Geralt, a man, and a girl walking in.

The wolves fell silent as Geralt pushed the hood off of his head. A fond smile came to his lips.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Lambert stood to his feet and took a few steps towards his brother. Coen followed.

“We thought you were dead, or lost.”

“Not yet.” Geralt embraced Coen first and then Lambert.

All the other wolves soon took their turn greeting their fellow witcher.

“Y/N.” He said your name fondly. “Glad to see you didn’t let Lambert get you killed on the path.”

“I about killed her myself a couple times.” Lambert glared at you. “She’s like having a second Vesemir around, except some how she’s worse!”

You gave him a shove away from you, rolling your eyes.

“That’s the last time I spend time with you on the path.” Your words were directed to Lambert while you gave Geralt a hug. “Now I have to spend the entire winter in this gods damned keep with him too.”

“Have you seen Eskel, Geralt?” Lambert returned to his seat.

“He’s not here?” Geralt furrowed his brow.

“Haven’t seen any sign of him.” Coen shook his head. “Usually he’s one of the first one’s here, but hasn’t made it this year.”

“Hmm.”

“Wolf. You’re home.” Vesemir was the last to greet the White Wolf.

“I had to make a few stops.” Geralt looked back to the girl and the man to his left.

Your eyes fell on her. Your medallion had trembled when she first entered the room and even now, you could still feel the chaos radiating off of her. She seemed curious, bright eyes taking in every witcher around her. Then she looked at you. You held her gaze, lifting your chin just a little in acknowledgement.

You turned to continue cleaning up the mess the wolves left behind as introductions were made between Geralt’s guests and the wolves.

“And who might she be?” Jaskier asked Geralt as you picked up an empty pitcher from the table the wolves sat at.

“Y/N here is the maid of the keep.” Lambert answered for you. His eyes followed you as you moved around the table, a little grin playing on his lips. “Helps keep everything all nice and clean for us men.”

You launched the pitcher at his head. He dodged to the side, nearly pushing Coen off of the bench in the process.

“You’re going to get yourself into trouble this winter, Lambert.” Vesemir warned him.

“This is Y/N.” Geralt introduced you properly. He and his guests took a seat at the table with the rest of the wolves. “She’s our sister.”

“Sister?” Ciri repeated, furrowing her brows. “As in a witcher?”

“It would seem that way.” You confirmed with a slight nod and a sigh.

“That’s absolutely amazing!” Jaskier exclaimed. “A lady witcher.”

“I think calling her a lady may be overselling it.” Coen snickered.

“Yeah, she ain’t no lady.” Lambert added.

You moved to lean in between him and Coen, reaching for an empty plate. As you were turning away from the table, you made sure to purposefully smack both of the wolves in the head with the plate.

“Fuck!”

“Why don’t you boys make yourselves useful and go do these dishes before they get out of hand?” You placed the bin of dirty dishes down in front of Coen.

They grumbled but decided not to fight it. If they did dishes now, they wouldn’t have to do them later. Or so they thought.

“You’ve never mentioned that you had a sister, Geralt.”

The White Wolf grumbled in his chest as he looked at his bard. It was a warning. He knew very well how Jaskier was with the opposite sex.

“Geralt doesn’t like to do such a thing.” You settled with sitting at the end of a bench at one of the tables. “I would take away all the spotlight from the grand White Wolf. If word got out about a lady witcher, why, the White Wolf wouldn’t be so exciting, now would he?”

Geralt rolled his eyes at you as he moved to the table that had a jug of ale and mugs. He poured himself a mug and then returned to sit across from you.

“If it wouldn’t be too much, I would absolutely love to hear more about you.” Jaskier sat down just beside Geralt. He leaned against the table with both hands and his voice oozed with excitement. “You see, I am a bard by trade. Perhaps you’ve heard some of my work.”

You gazed into his blue eyes, a grin tugging at the corner of your scarred lips.

“You’re a brave soul, bard.”

He smiled a bit bashfully, cheeks flushing light pink.

“Why, thank you.”

“It wasn’t a compliment.” Geralt told him. His words made Jaskier’s smile drop.

“What? Of-Of course it was!”

“It was more of an observation, bard.” You said. “Not many could come to a witcher’s keep and ask a witcher to share her war stories just moments after meeting her.”

“Jaskier has no fear.” Geralt sighed.

“Well, I-I wouldn’t say that. I have plenty of fear.”

You smiled a little at the bard.

“How was the Path this year?” Geralt changed the subject. “I can’t imagine spending the whole year with Lambert was pleasant.”

“Oh, it was anything but pleasant.” You let out a small breath, scratching your fingertips over a groove in the wooden tabletop. “I’d rather have my eyes gouged out with spoons than spend that much time with him.”

Geralt chuckled a little.

“Y/N!” You heard Coen shout your name from the kitchen. You turned your head to the side, listening closely to what was going on.

Geralt furrowed his brows a little and tilted his head. He could also hear the roughhousing going on in the kitchen.

“Ah, fuck.” You grunted, pushing yourself to your feet.

“Is something wrong?” Jaskier asked you.

“My brothers are fools. Excuse me, bard. Princess.”

Jaskier watched as you crossed the room and disappeared behind a heavy wooden door. He didn’t realize he had been staring for too long until the White Wolf grumbled.

The bard turned his head to his traveling companion, brows falling and lips pressing together in a line as he found the witcher glaring at him.

“What?”

“Don’t think about it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You get that same look in your eye when we go to banquets. That same look has gotten you nearly killed for bedding the wrong woman.”

“Geralt! Have a little faith in me! That is your sister for crying out loud! I-I would— I would never—,”

“Unfortunately, I know you too well, Jaskier.”

Jaskier found himself looking back to the door you had disappeared through. A sheepish smile crossed his lips.

“She is rather stunning, isn’t she?”

“Jaskier.”

“It’s a compliment!”

Geralt shook his head.

“She will rip you to pieces.”

“Isn’t that the hope?” Jaskier grinned.

“Gross.” Ciri scrunched her nose up. She had been so quiet that Jaskier almost forgot that they were in the company of the young girl.

“Sorry, Ciri.”

***

You carried a mug in one hand as you left the kitchen. It had been a few hours since Geralt and his guests had arrived. By now, night had fallen on Kaer Morhen. Lambert was preparing a late dinner for everyone. Coen and Vesemir were fixing a fallen shelf in the library. Ciri was in the library reading through a few books to pass time.

Geralt and Jaskier were just getting back in from checking on the horses.

“So I see you changed your mind about your Child Surprise.” You spoke. Your voice reverberated off of the walls.

“Didn’t have much of a choice. Cintra was overtaken by Nilfgard. She has no one.”

“Well, now she has us.” You took a seat on a bench but kept your back to the table. Geralt and Jaskier sat the same way, with their backs to the table just across from you.

A door across the room creaked as it was opened. Being that the door was behind you, you had to turn your head and your upper half to be able to see Vesemir.

“Where’s Ciri?” Geralt asked him.

“Left her in the library. She seemed rather interested in an old beastiary.” Vesemir poured himself a mug of ale.

“To think we have a princess here in the walls of Kaer Morhen.” You shook your head, finishing off the last bit of your drink. “This winter is going to be an interesting one.”

“She isn’t the first princess here.” Geralt said. Your eyes met his briefly before you looked away.

“What does that mean?” Jaskier looked to Geralt for an explanation.

“Oh, it doesn’t matter.” Vesemir took a seat next to you. “All that matters is we don’t try to kill each other this winter.”

“Lambert is at the very top of my list.” You told him. “The first chance I get, I’m going to suffocate him in his sleep.”

“Y/N.” Vesemir scolded.

“Where do you hail from, Y/N?” Jaskier asked you.

“Ard Carraigh, though that was more than a lifetime ago.” You looked down at your empty tankard.

The sound of the horses out in the stables made you turn your head towards the door. You furrowed your brows, unsure of what had them stirring.

“Something’s bothering the horses.” Geralt grunted.

“I will go see to it.” Vesemir sighed as he stood to his feet.

“Do you want one of us to come with you?” You asked him.

“No need. I don’t think it’s that much of a concern.”

You watched the old witcher leave through the heavy front door.

“I should go check on Ciri.” Geralt thought out loud.

“There can’t be too much she’d get into trouble with.” You said. “Nothing up there other than rats the size of a foal.”

“You’d be surprised with Ciri. She can find trouble out of thin air.” He stood up. “Don’t stir up any trouble while I’m gone, Jaskier.”

“You have too little faith in me, Geralt!”

The White Wolf rolled his eyes but said nothing as he walked away. Your eyes followed him until he disappeared through a door that led to the rest of the keep.

“How long have you….” Jaskier trailed off, unsure of the right words to use. “Have you been a witcher long?”

“Are you asking my age, bard?”

“No, no! I’d never ask a lady such a thing.” He chuckled nervously. “I assume that if you have been a witcher for very long, I would have known about you. Or heard about you at some point in time.”

You stood up and moved seats, choosing instead to sit beside the bard. He shifted in his seat, clearly nervous by your sudden close presence.

“It’s been decades since I came here to Kaer Morhen.” You looked upwards to the high ceilings. “Before the sacking.”

”What was it like? Before the- Before the sacking?” Jaskier turned his head to you. He admired your side profile, blue eyes mapping out your facial features. The curve of your nose down to the shape of your lips.

Your attention was shifted to him. It was then that you noticed he was practically staring at your lips. You smiled a little, causing him to look up at your eyes. His cheeks turned pink and he chuckled nervously.

”My-My apologizes.”

”It was nothing grand.” You answered his question as you rose to your feet. “I need more drink. Would you like to come with me?”

”Yes.” Jaskier answered a little too quickly.

He followed behind you like a puppy. You looked over your shoulder to him, the twinkle in your eyes making his heart race. Gods, you were a beauty.

You pushed the door to the kitchen open but before Jaskier could follow you inside, Lambert and Coen were coming out.

“What are you doing, barker?” Coen asked.

“Just— I was just—,”

”Leave him alone, Coen.” You called from just inside the kitchen. Jaskier couldn’t see you because of the wall the two large witchers were forming, blocking you from him.

The boys laughed, their boisterous voices echoing throughout the room. Lambert clapped his hand down on Jaskier’s shoulder as they passed him. Jaskier was just a little confused.

”They are, uh, quite the pair, aren’t they?”

”A pair of jackasses is what they are.” You shook your head.

“Big brothers are like that. I have four.”

”Sounds horrendous.” You poured a second mug of ale and passed it to the bard. “Do you have any other siblings?”

”An older sister and a younger sister.”

”Seven children?” You raised your brows as you leaned against the wooden counter. “Yikes.”

”Yeah.” He chuckled lightly. He leaned against the counter beside you. “Always had a big family.”

”I was one of the last witchers to ever be made, so I suppose I’ve only ever had older brothers.” You took a sip of the ale. ”Couldn’t imagine it any other way. They irritate the piss out of me, but they’re my brothers.”

”They are good men.” Jaskier nodded. “Albeit, annoying. But good men.”

You found yourself gaze at the barker. He was stunning. Warm skin, dark curly hair, even darker eyelashes, and bright icy blue eyes that contrasted his features so nicely. He was a pleasure to gaze at.

The door to the kitchen opened and there stood Geralt.

Jaskier hurried to move, taking a step to the side to put space between himself and you.

“Ah, Geralt!”

The White Wolf offered a low grumble before he looked to you.

”Eskel is home. He doesn’t look good.”

“Is he okay?” You furrowed your eyebrows together. Your drink as discarded on the counter as you hurried to leave the kitchen.

”Vesemir has him in the infirmary.”

You slipped past the witcher and hurried away.

Geralt waited until your footsteps had disappeared down the staircase. Then he turned his attention to Jaskier. He crossed his arms over his chest, appearing even more intimidating than usual.

“Oh, come on, Geralt! Don’t look at me like that!”

”Y/N is—,”

”She is your sister! And you, you are my closest friend!” Jaskier moved to stand in front of Geralt. He placed his hands on Geralt’s biceps and attempted to shake the man but Geralt didn’t budge. “I wouldn’t dream of ever crossing you like that—,”

”Jaskier.” Geralt almost rolled his eyes. ”Get your hands off of me.”

”She is rather friendly though.” Jaskier clasped his hands behind his back as he slipped around the stocky witcher to leave the kitchen. “Very chatty too. Unlike you, you cranky old man.”

Geralt turned around to watch his friend as he started to walk away.

“Jaskier.”

”Yes, Geralt?” Jaskier turned on his toes to face him.

”Just be careful.”

The bard didn’t know what to expect, but that wasn’t it. He furrowed his brows and tilted his head to the side just a bit.

“Uh, o-okay, Geralt.”

[delusionalwritingsofagay]

Excellenttttt! Can I req something with (male) witcher reader x jaskier in a soulmates!au?

Maybe reader gets a contract to take care of a monster(s) that's been terrorising the village/city jaskier was staying in, somehow they meet (maybe reader saves jaskier from said monster) and find out they're soulmates <3 ok that's all ty

Of Monsters and Melodies

Pairing : Jaskier x Male Witcher Reader Tags: soulmate Au, Flirting , pre relationship, Word count : 1533

The late afternoon sun cast a warm glow over the bustling market square of Lyria, where villagers keenly traded their wares and exchanged pleasantries of the day. Yet beneath the vibrant hustle and bustle, a tense atmosphere lingered. Whispers of a lurking monster that had been terrorising the outskirts of the village floated through the air, casting ominous shadows over the laughter of children and the scent of fresh bread.

Y/N approached the village at a slow, deliberate pace, his sombre demeanour in stark contrast to the lively surroundings. As a Witcher, he had experienced more than his fair share of hatred from humans . His grumpy disposition had earned him a reputation that often preceded him. But tonight, he was here to eliminate a 

a ghoul A horrible, low, and nasty beast.

As he made his way to the tavern, the villagers sent him wary glances. Witchers were known as outsiders, monsters in their own right if you asked some folk—different with their silver hair, cat-like eyes. Y/N preferred it that way. The less attention he drew to himself, the better. Lost in contemplation, he barely registered the cheerful singing that emanated from the nearby tavern.

Inside, the tavern was filled with laughter, clinking glasses, and a melody that seemed too joyous for a village beset by fear. A bard stood center stage, strumming a lute and pouring his heart into a tale of bravery and love, of knights and damsels.

Jaskier’s bright eyes sparkled as he spun tales, but Y/N’s irritation began to grow. Why was he so effortlessly cheerful? Didn’t he realise the darkness lurking beyond the tavern’s walls? But as much as Y/N hated to admit it, he found himself caught up in the rhythm of the music, despite his reasons to remain grumpy.

“Ah, and a Witcher, he bravely shall stand!” Jaskier’s voice rang out, drawing Y/N’s attention as the bard spotted him. “To confront the ghouls with sword in hand!”

“Yeah, sounds about right,” Y/N muttered under his breath, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. He didn’t want the bard’s attention, not now. He made his way to the tavern keeper to ask about the contact.

The tavern keeper, a burly man with a bushy beard and a wary eye, leaned forward as Y/N approached.

“What brings a Witcher to our humble square?” he asked, his voice low, tinged with an edge of suspicion. “We’ve enough troubles without you stirring the pot.”

“I’m here for the ghoul, not to make trouble,” Y/N replied evenly, his tone devoid of warmth. “I was told I could find a contact here,”

The tavern keeper frowned, wiping down the bar with a rag that had seen better days. “Aye, the ghoul has been coming closer to the village. There’s a farmer, old Braeden, lost a son to one of those beasts not long ago”

“Tell me where the creature was seen last?.”

“East of here, by the old ruins,” The tavern keeper said, voice low and harsh. “It comes at dusk when the light fades—snatches up livestock”

Before Y/N could respond, the bard was at his side, grinning widely. “Ah! The mighty Witcher! How could I ignore such a striking figure?”

Y/N crossed his arms, unwilling to be flattered. “I’m merely here to do a job, bard. I don’t have time for your foolishness.”

Jaskier’s expression did not falter; if anything, his smile widened. “Who said doing a job had to be devoid of charm? Surely, even the most seasoned Witcher needs a little mirth to brighten the path ahead?” He leaned closer, an impish sparkle in his eye. “Tell me, do you have any exciting tales of ghoul-slaying? Perhaps a war wound or two?”

“Just the job, bard,” Y/N replied tersely, feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders. He didn’t want to share his burdens with anyone.

As he made his way toward the door, Jaskier's voice followed him, a mix of exasperation and playful incredulity. “Oh, come on! At least let me come with you! I can sing about your glorious feats while you’re out slaying! It’s a win-win!”

Y/N paused at the entrance, glancing back at the cheerful bard whose exuberance felt unbearably misplaced.” No, piss off Bard” he said before leaving slamming the tavern door closed and heading towards the woods.

He surveyed the woods just beyond the village limits. He cared little for the townsfolk, but he felt the weight of desperation in their urgency. He had taken this contract, not for their fear, but for the promise of coin. Yet now, as dusk fell and shadows lengthened he was growing more irritated.

A familiar voice broke through his thoughts, singing with far too much passion, “Oh, to love so sweetly, as the moon does to the sea! To find a heart that beats so true, oh, what joy it must be!”

That damn bard was back, of course. He was a whirlwind of charm and mischief, a stark contrast to Y/N’s more stoic demeanour. The bard had followed him.

“Do you ever stop to breathe,?” Y/N muttered, not bothering to turn. “I have a contract to fulfil, and I can’t have you getting in my way.”

Jaskier huffed indignantly. “Getting in your way? I’m here to aid you, brave Witcher! Can’t you see? I’m your loyal bard, your fierce companion against the horrors of the world!” He flourished his arms dramatically.

Rolling his eyes, Y/N turned to face Jaskier, trying to maintain his usual gruff demeanour. “You’re a Fucking nuisance. Stay here, out of trouble.”

However, trouble had a way of finding the bard. Just as Y/N prepared to plunge deeper into the woods, a guttural roar echoed from the trees. The sound sent a shiver down Y/N’s spine—one he recognized all too well. He unsheathed his silver sword, instincts sharpening with every heartbeat.

Before he could warn Jaskier, a massive creature burst forth, its scaled body glimmering in the dwindling light, eyes blood-red with rage. Jaskier barely had time to react before Y/N was upon him, pushing him behind a sturdy tree for cover.

“Stay here!” Y/N barked, and the bard nodded, eyes wide.

The fight was a blur. Y/N moved fluidly, The creature was a formidable adversary, and he could feel the weight of its danger. But it was the sound of Jaskier’s voice, rising in panic, that made his heart race.

“Witcher! Watch out!”

With a powerful swing, Y/N barely avoided a swipe from its claw, redirecting his focus back to the monster. The air crackled with tension and magic, and Y/N found himself driven not merely by instinct but by an unexplainable pull toward the bard’s safety.

In a flurry of movement, he struck true, and the beast collapsed, lifeless, at his feet. Breathing heavily, sweat mingling with dirt on his brow, Y/N turned toward Jaskier, who had emerged from his hiding spot with a wild mixture of relief and awe. “By the gods, that was astonishing! You—”

Before Y/N could respond—or push the bard away—Jaskier reached out to touch him, grasping his bicep from adrenaline and in that very moment, warmth radiated between them, a sudden surge of energy felt by both men.

Y/N stumbled back slightly, startled. The sensation was not something he expected. Nor was the mark that he was sure stung, his arm probably matching the bard's mark on his palm —a circular design that swirled in shades of blue and silver formulating into an intricate pattern, shimmering in the dim light.

Y/N stared,. Soulmates. He had heard of such phenomena but had always dismissed them as tales woven by drunk storytellers. Jaskier electrified with excitement as he looked at his own palm, then back at Y/N, his face split into a radiant grin.

“You know, I always thought the day I met my soulmate would be more romantic.” Jaskier clasped a hand over his heart with a melodramatic flair. “But this? This is a marvellous tale ready to be shared!”

Y/N scoffed, his grumpy nature faltering at the bard’s infectious enthusiasm. “You’re ridiculous. This isn’t a story. We’ve received marks. It’s hardly romantic.”

“Not romantic? A fateful encounter, a valiant rescue—how much more poetic do you want it to be?” Jaskier countered, eyes glimmering with mischief. “Admit it! We’d make a magnificent couple!”

“You aren’t supposed to be excited about this,” Y/N said, his scowl strained as he attempted to maintain his gruff exterior.

“Think of the songs, Our lives twined together by destiny! Adventures to sing about for the ages!” Jaskier’s enthusiasm was infectious, even if Y/N tried to ignore it.

“Right — adventures,” Y/N said, rolling his eyes, but despite himself, he felt warmth blooming within him. It was annoying, actually.” “We’ll make a plan on how to… deal with this, but stay out of my way songbird”

“I make no such promises!” Jaskier declared, his laughter echoing in the stillness. With the adrenaline still pumping through his veins, Y/N sighed and  nodded, unable to suppress a faint smile. 

“Fucking bard”

[sailorkamino]

sheltered

relatonships: geraskier x magic!reader [tangled au]

word count: 1.8k

summary: your village believed you to be born cursed and would have killed you, if not for stragobor. you've spent your whole life locked away in a tower but now you've got a chance for freedom in the form of a bard, a witcher, and an pretty horse.

warnings: stragobor, emotionally abusive parent, gaslighting, anti witcher prejudice, death/murder, pre relationship, emotional support dogs

a/n: my first time writing for the witcher! what do you think? i might turn this into a series <3

Spring is coming so you’re making new outfits for your beloved hounds. Which isn’t at all depressing no matter what that one judgemental bird thinks. Anyways you’re using golden yellow fabric for Honeysuckle and cool blue for Periwinkle. As is customary.

Then you sense them. Strangers. You become almost dizzy with fear and excitement. A type of desperation only experienced when you live in a forced solitude. You make your way to the window, desperate for a glance. It’s not like they’ll be able to see you. Your entire tower is invisible to outsiders.

“Hey, look at this tower.”

You choke on air. Your dogs leap from your bed to check on you (still in their winter sweaters.) You hold your breath as two people and a horse step into the clearing. Then you meet yellow cat-like eyes and you’re diving to the floor with a startled noise.

“Careful. Magic.”

One of them is mumbling but it’s drowned out by the sound of your rapid heart. Honeysuckle whines in concern, licking your face. Periwinkle takes a protective stance over both of you, growling out the window.

Father has always told you witchers are bloodthirsty savages. They’ll kill any innocent being for a profit. They know no morals, only violence. When you were born under a black sun your religious village wanted you dead. Father hid you away for protection. You’re not looking to relieve the witch hunt experience.

You mentally poke at the witcher, feeling out his aura. He doesn’t seem particularly beastly. Animals tend to be more shallow than people, all instincts and simple emotions. Surprisingly he doesn’t feel that.

A part of you has always questioned your father's prejudice. You stopped voicing it but the concerns remained. Father hates witchers because they kill beasts. If monsters can be good, why can’t witchers? An old argument resurfaces in your memory.

“Have you listened to a word I’ve said, child?” Father asks angrily. “You cry when a rat dies yet defend butchers.” You look away, embarrassed by his mocking tone.

“This is why you stay in this tower. You’re too naïve for the outside world.”

You wonder if that’s the real reason he keeps you locked away. You’re capable of defending yourself now. So is he really protecting you? Or is he protecting the world? All because you were born under a black sun. Why must you be punished for being different? Why must witchers?

You think of the villagers who looked at a crying orphan and saw a threat. Who saw killing an infant as a lesser evil. You don’t want to be like that. Privately you wonder why your mentor sees compassion as a weakness but you’ve learnt it’s better to agree with him. “Yes father. I’m sorry.”

“No need to fear us. I’m Jaskier the bard, master of the seven liberal arts, and this is my companion, Geralt of Rivia! Could you give us directions to the nearest town?” The colorful man calls out.

Your heart races until you feel dizzy. So this is the butcher. The most beastly and cruel of all the witchers. He’s… underwhelming to say the least. Certainly least nightmarish and more dreamy than you imagined. But you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. You take a calming breath, petting your hounds to ground yourself.

The primal fear inside of you is wrestling with your desire for a real life conversation with a stranger. This could be your chance to hear both sides of what happened in Blaviken. Father always says you’re too naïve but only tells you his point of view. You’re almost sick with nerves when you blurt out rather loudly, “I wouldn't know. I’ve never been in the forest before.”

There’s a long pause and you can sense confusion. Have you already messed up? You don't want them to leave. Well the witcher can go, but the colorful one seems nice. You pop your head back into view, “I don’t leave my tower. I’m sorry. I… like your horse.” Compliments make you friends right?

“Don’t leave or can’t?” A much gruffer voice asks. You shiver. (He didn’t even say thank you for the compliment, how rude.)

“I’m safe here.” The words sound unconvincing to your own ears. You tell yourself it's because of fear. Not because you’re beginning to question them.

“Who says?”

“My father.”

They share a concerned look. You bite your lip in embarrassment. It sounds quite childish when you say it out loud. But you’ve been persecuted before, you aren’t about to let your guard down around a hired killer. So… why are you still talking to him?

Then you notice the brunet’s instrument. What a lovely change of subject. “Is that a lute?”

“It is!”

You’re practically jumping now. Honeysuckle, picking up on your excitement, smacks you with her wagging tail. “I’ve never heard a bard before! Play me something?”

Jaskier goes impossibly sad. You frown, hating the kicked puppy expression. What did you do wrong? Maybe you should just stick to socializing with animals. At least the rats find you charming.

“You’ve never heard music, my dear?”

Your face goes hot, both at the endearment and the pity in his voice. “I have lots of instruments but I don’t think I’m very good. Being self taught and all.”

“Why don’t I come up and give you a lesson? Free of charge!”

Your stomach twists in knots. You don’t know what’s more terrifying. Your new friend coming inside or leaving you to loneliness. You avoid eye contact when you answer. “My father wouldn’t like that.”

“What would you like?” The witcher asks sternly. You freeze. No one has ever cared what you wanted before. Is that concern you sense from him? Sympathy? From a so-called beast? Your silence seems like an answer enough. “So can’t leave,” he concludes.

“Can others enter?” Jaskier asks curiously.

You don’t know why you answer but you do. “Only with a portal. There’s no door.”

“But there’s a window.”

You frown. Obviously there’s a window, you’re talking out of it right now. Maybe your new friend is a little slow.

“Rope?” he proposes to the witcher.

Your mouth drops open. A rope? That’s it? Years of isolation by a warlock solved with a fucking rope? It can’t be that simple. It just can’t be. “My father is very powerful,” you warn. “And he hates witchers.”

“Him and most of the continent,” the man grumbles dryly. For some reason you feel guilty. Years of indoctrination to hate his kind, forgotten in mere minutes. Maybe you really are naïve.

“Who’s your father, dear? Maybe we know him?”

You sincerely hope not. “Stregobor.”

Dead silence. Then a very empathetic “fuck.”

Your stomach sinks. That’s the most emotion you’ve heard in the witcher’s voice so far and it doesn't sound good. Will they judge you for your fathers deeds? Wait, why are you assuming your father’s in the wrong? Since when did he become the bad guy? (Maybe he always has been but you’ve ignored it.)

“Let me guess, you were born during a black sun?” He asks flatly.

You feel as if a rug has been pulled out from under you. The comfort that’s been growing disappears, replaced with icy fear. You don’t even know this man yet you still feel betrayed. “Are you here to kill me?” You ask, slightly wobbly.

He sighs tiredly. Maybe he gets asked that a lot. “No. You aren’t fucking cursed. You were born during an eclipse. A completely natural phenomenon. A bunch of old bastards made up that curse for power and control.”

Your jaw drops, conflicting emotions raging inside of you. If he’s right you’re not cursed, which is great. But it also means your father has betrayed you. Your whole life can’t be a lie. It just can’t. A sinking part of you knows he’s making sense, even wants to believe him, but you desperately ignore it.

“I hurt people,” you confess abruptly.

“I thought you never left this tower?” Jaskier asks.

“When I was a baby.”

The witcher raises an unimpressed brow. “Did Stregobor tell you that?”

You growl in frustration as a strong wind rustles the trees. Jaskier looks around in bewilderment but the witcher holds your steady gaze. Not easily frightened by your show of power or glowing eyes.

“I’ve met a lot of monsters. You’re not one.”

The words you’ve always longed to hear. Uttered by the man you’ve been taught to hate. You take a moment to collect your flurry of emotions before answering. “Funny,” you smile weakly, “I was gonna say the same thing about you, witcher.”

You steady yourself before asking the next question. Knowing it won’t be easy but needing answers. The more you talk to Geralt the more you question what you’ve been taught about witchers. Maybe you don’t want him to be a monster. Maybe you’re so lonely you don’t care if he is.

“Tell me about Blaviken.”

“What?” His voice is somehow gruffer. Face horribly blank and posture rigid.

“Every story has two sides, yet I’ve only heard my father’s.”

He sighs deeply. Then begins. He tells you about Renfri. A princess born under the black sun. Her step mother was looking for a way to get rid of her and the curse was convenient. Stregobor agreed the girl was an evil mutant that must be isolated but her step mother wanted her dead. Together they ruined her life.

Renfri evaded them. She spent years being hunted, until she became the hunter. Eventually she formed a gang of sorts and tracked Stregobor to Blaviken but couldn’t enter his tower. (Apparently the idea of living in a tower forever was very distressing to your father. You don't know if you should laugh or vomit.)

Both Renfri and Stregobor asked Geralt to kill the other but he refused, not wanting to get involved. Although he hated Stregobor he tried to talk the princess out of revenge. It was too late. She threatened to kill townspeople until the warlock came out.

Your heart sinks at the ultimatum. Your father has never been a compassionate man. By the grim look on the witcher’s face he knew it too. In the end Geralt did what Stregobor wanted him to do. Instead of payment or thanks he was branded a butcher.

The fear-shame-grief rolling off of the witcher (definitely not emotionless by the way) is enough to make your eyes sting. Your gaze settles on Jaskier, who’s gone into full sad puppy mode. You have a feeling he’s never heard the full story either. You clear your choked throat.

“You mentioned a rope, good sir?”

[schleiereule-94]

A Bard and a Witcher – Part 2

Pairing: Geralt x Jaskier x aFab!Reader

Summary: The morning after an eventful evening spent with Geralt and Jaskier you start exactly where you stopped the night before.

Warning(s): SMUT MINORS DNI, porn w/o much plot, fingering, penetrative sex (lots of it), unprotected p in v, threesome, dirty talk (both degrading and some praise, cursing), rough sex, size kink, belly bulge, oral (m receiving), she is not talking much but enjoys being used. A very slight hint of feelings.

Author’s Note: Not beta read and not an english native, so be kind if you find mistakes. Hope you enjoy!

Part 1 here

You fell asleep quickly after the two men had tucked you under the covers. Your body feeling limp and warm, you happily drifted off into dreamland. You only wake up hours later, when a sunray hits your forehead. You squint your eyes open, still feeling dozy and at first you don’t know exactly where you are. A bulky figure lays in front of you, blocking out most of the sun. Yellow eyes watch you intently. And they immediately bring back the memories from last night. You also register a body pressed into you from behind and an arm around your waist. Jaskier’s breath is deep and regular at your neck, he is still asleep. 

When the witcher realises you are awake a small smile lightens up his features. He extends his arm to put a string of hair that has fallen into your face behind your ear and rest his hand gently on your cheek. It is warm and big, extending from your jaw up to your temple. “Morning darling. How are you feeling?” he asks quietly. He is very close and even though his eyes and gestures are very soft and relaxed you are still intimidated. “I’m…, I’m great actually”. You sound sleepy and your voice is hoarse. From taking too much cock down your throat probably, your brain provides a reason. The thought makes you grin and a slight shiver of excitation runs down your body. The witcher is still looking at you. “You are very pretty” he states softly and his hand travels from your face down to your shoulders. He slowly slides down your arm, taking the blanket off your upper body and leaving behind a trace of goosebumps. You hum under his gaze and get more awake by the second. As he uncovers your bare breasts you try to cover yourself up by reflex, but he catches your hands and decisively puts them back down. “Relax”. You feel your cheeks redden a bit, but you loosen up. The witcher leans in closer, your faces just centimetres apart. You feel his breath on your skin and shudder slightly. You feel like you are laying next to a big wild wolf. He’s tranquil for now, but you know he could devour you any second. “What is your name”, he asks while interlacing his fingers in some strands of your hair. “Y/n”, you say, mouth dry and hypnotised by the yellow eyes examining your face. You feel like he sees directly into your soul. 

Geralt leans forward over your head and inhales deeply in your hair. “Mhh you smell as delicious as you taste sweet girl”. His eyes have a faint animalistic glint to them when he turns them back to you. You don’t know what to say. He looks so perfect, the sun lighting up his white hair. Mesmerized, and before you think more about it, you grab a strand and let it slide through your fingers. It feels like silk. Geralt looks amused. “I’ve never met a man like you”, you tell him without looking into his eyes. His broad chest is lightly covered in hair, adorned with his witcher medallion. You feel the urge to touch him, feel his heart beating to make sure he is real. He looks more like an angel in the morning sun, even though you are very aware that he is everything but. “They say that witchers can’t feel anything. That you don’t have emotions.” You shyly look back up into his face, looking for an answer. “Do you believe them?” he asks. You hesitate. “I don’t know.” You lean forward and rest your hand on Geralt’s hot chest feeling it rise and fall. He lets you caress him, watching your hand wander up to his collarbone and down his muscular arms. You trace a vein on his bicep. “I want to find out” you whisper. 

Geralt puts his hand under your chin, lifting you head up. For a moment you are trapped in his gaze, but you free yourself by closing the short distance and kissing his perfect lips. He tastes of wood and danger, deep and bittersweet. His teeth brush your lower lip and his tongue licks into your mouth, slowly but determined. Suddenly you don’t feel relaxed and cosy anymore, but restless and turned on. His hand comes up behind your head to hold you onto the deepening kiss. He has you breathless in no time and you moan softly into Gerald’s mouth. 

As you pull back to catch your breath, Jaskier, woken up from the stirring next to him, nuzzles his head into your neck. “Good morning sweetheart” he hums into your ear. “Can I get a good morning kiss too?”  You smile and turn your head to kiss the bards much finer lips. He tastes like wine and smoke, light and fun. You can feel his naked body pressed into your curves and his morning hard-on on your lower back. You grind your hips back into him. “Morning bard. Had sweet dreams about me?” you tease him. Jaskier chuckles. “You really want to start over where we stopped yesterday, hm”. His hand wanders from your hip where he had placed it, upwards to grab one of your boobs. “Mh so warm and cosy” he mutters. He looks over to Geralt who is still laying on his side silently watching the two of you. “Mind if I interrupt your make-out session?” Geralt makes an assertive gesture with his head. “Go ahead.” His voice has dropped, and heat is radiating from his body, you feel like bathing in it. “You look at me”, he orders you and takes your chin between two of his fingers. Naturally, you nod your head at the commanding tone.

All your senses are absorbed by Gerald’s yellow eyes and Jaskier’s talented fingers massaging and lightly twisting your sensitive nipples. You feel them hardening under his touch and start to pant, your mouth agape. The tingly feeling of arousal travels down your body and directly into your core. You feel wetness starting to pool between your legs and you wiggle your hips again into Jaskier’s cock, hot and flush against your lower back. The bard starts to move downwards, head nested at your neck, kissing and licking stripes up to your ear that make you shiver. Geralt’s eyes are fixed on the goosebumps appearing all over your skin. Jaskier pushes against your butt, and you angle your pelvis back so the head of his hot cock enters between your legs. With a light thrust Jaskier slips between your thighs that are slick from sweat and your excitation. “Mh look at you, all wet for us again” he licks at a very sensitive spot behind your ear making you shudder and your breath hitch. You close your eyes, but Gerald makes you open them again quickly. “I said, look at me” he growls, while yanking the blanket off your body completely. The cold air hits your sensitive skin and you suddenly feel very exposed. Jaskier is lazily thrusting between your thighs, holding your breasts in both hands. You can hear him panting and purring sweet praises into your ear. “Such a beautiful girl, could play with you all morning, baby.” He pinches your nipples and the pain shoots directly between your legs. You need friction, but Jaskier’s thrusts are just missing the one spot where you need it most. You clench your thighs together, which makes the bard hiss, but it is not really helping you. You look up at Gerald. “Please” you beg him. “Please what sweetheart? Do you need help?” The witcher has not moved from his sideways position from where he is studying your every move, all expressions, all your sounds. “Yes, please sir, I need to be touched”. “Where do you need to be touched, little lady?” He puts his big hot hand square on your lower belly, slowly travelling over your navel down towards the spot between your legs where the head of Jaskier’s red and swollen cock appears rhythmically. “Yes, down, please” you breath weakly. The witcher extends his long middle finger, caressing over the little curly hairs covering your vulva. He is agonizingly slow, enjoying the pained and eager expressions crossing your face. Finally, he enters between your folds, rubbing lightly over your most sensitive spot. “Here? Do you need to be touched here?” “Yes, ah yes sir” you moan between your teeth. Geralt looks deeply into your eyes as he starts drawing little circles on your clit. Your breath hitches, your chest rising and falling fast. The combination of Jaskier’s hot dick pulsating between your legs, fingers playing with your nipples and Gerald’s warm hand on your lower belly, massaging just the right spot between your clenched thighs, all under his watchful gaze, turns you on immensely. You start bucking your hips into Gerald’s hand, needing more friction, more pressure. 

“Let me have her”, Jaskier pants and grabs at your hipbone, dragging your ass backwards and changing the angle between your bodies. And with one quick thrust he is in you. The feeling of fullness is so sudden that you cry out loud. The bard pulls out almost completely just to slam back into you. Your moans mix with the slapping sound of naked bodies meeting with force. Geralt’s hand is still there on your clit, pressing down and drawing ever faster circles. The pressure on your bladder makes you feel like peeing. “I am, I am going to come” you announce just moments before your belly convulses and you clench your eyes close, seeing stars. You hear Jaskier gasp as he fucks you through your orgasm, hitting this sweet spot deep inside you with perfect accuracy. You moan and let the fire rip though you.

Two fingers on your jaw bring you back down to earth. Jaskier’s hand digs into your hips and your body is shaken every time he enters your soaked pussy. Gerald is staring at you, his own arousal now clearly visible in his face, lips tight and pupils blown. “Open your mouth” he commands and you follow obediently. With his middle finger he spreads your own juices on your lower lip before entering your mouth. “Now suck”. You do as your told, without taking your eyes away from his, seeing his gaze darken as you lick around his fingertip.

Your body is still rocked back and forth as Jaskier is chasing his own release. “Hold her still” he asks of his friend. Gerald withdraws his finger from your mouth with a plop to grip your hips in a stronghold as his friend starts pounding for good. You close your eyes and just give yourself to the feeling of being opened up again and again until you hear Jaskier start to breath irregularly and feel him twitch inside you. You try to grind your hips deeper into him, but Gerald’s grip on you makes any movement impossible. Every single one of his fingers will leave a bruise in your flesh. He is staring at your trembling breasts with heat in his eyes. Jaskier enters you one, two, three more times before he stalls, pelvis flush with your ass, and with a guttural grunt you feel his balls empty themselves. It feels so dirty and arousing at the same time, you moan loudly. After a few moments Jaskier collapses next to you, his now half-hard dick slipping out of you with an almost obscene squelching sound. You hiss from the loss as semen runs down your thigh. 

You are aware how Geralt is looking at you, his gaze burning your skin. “You like this, hm, getting fucked by this bard? Getting pounded properly?” “Yes”, you mutter, “like to be fucked by good dick.” You grin at him. “I can take some more.” “Is that right? You haven’t had enough yet?” In an instant Geralt is on top of you, weighing you down heavily and taking the air out of your lungs. You try to touch his bare chest but he pins both your hands down at your sides before licking a strip from your throat up to your ear. You can feel his huge bulge and try to buck your hips up into him. Fuck, you want him so badly. Geralt moves his mouth down to your breasts and takes one of your pesky nipples between his teeth. You cry out, the sensation almost too much. The witcher brings up a knee between your legs. His thigh presses into your mound as he grinds into you. The juices coming out of you soak through his thin clothing. “Dirty little whore hasn’t even dried up and already wants to fuck again” Geralt mutters, sending shivers down your spine. He sits up onto his knees and looks over you. The wild wolf is ready to devour you now. 

Geralt kneels between your legs, clearly enjoying the view of you squirming under him. With one of his long fingers he catches a stream of Jaskiers semen slowly dripping out of your cunt. He looks at it closely, then holds it in front of your face. “Taste”. You stick out your tongue to lick the glistening white from his finger. It tastes salty and tangy. “Good girl” the witcher growls and finally moves to undo his pants. As he shoves them down his thighs his erect member springs free, big and prodding. Precum has gathered on the tip and long veins run along it. You want to trace them with your tongue. Your mouth feels dry and your stomach flutters from anticipation. Geralt lowers himself down and very slowly drags his member through your wet folds. “Mh please, Geralt” you try to entice him. But he just lubes up his dick and sits up again. He starts pumping himself lazily with one hand while eyeing you from above. You are so turned on, your skin feels like it is set on fire and it takes all your resolve to not grab at the witcher to try to pull him down towards him.

Jaskier, who had been recovering on the other side of the bed has turned his attention to the action again. “Get behind her” the witcher says over your head in his direction. A naked Jaskier climbs behind you, his hair still moist from sweat, with a grin on his face. Your head comes to rest on his chest as he sits against the bedframe. The bard immediately takes both of your breasts into his hands. Grabbing from below he brings them up to squeeze them together. “Such fantastic tits, m’lady” he whispers into your ear and kisses your neck. You cannot respond as your mind is caught up in watching Gerlat slowly fucking into his big hand while his dick somehow grows even larger and redder. Your pussy clenches in anticipation. “Please” you try your best puppy eyes on him, “I need to feel you inside. Need to be stretched and used. I need you to use me”. Your begging seems strike a cord in the witcher. Gerald leaps down onto both of you, grips your ankles and puts them up onto his shoulders, your lower back now elevated and just Jaskier holding you in place. Geralt’s pulsating member prods at your entrance. “I will show you what a perfect toy you are, whore” the witcher growls and finally, finally enters you. He still doesn’t slam, but it’s forcible enough for you to feel an almost painful stretch. Your mind goes blank, and you only realize that you have been crying out as you gasp for air. 

You are pressed into the bards torso as Geralt truly starts pounding into you. You hear him grunting and his face has lost any semblance of being human. He more than ever looks like a wild, furious animal. He grabs one of your wrists and pushes your palm onto your lower belly. “Do you feel me filling you up? Hmm, feel how I fill you all the way to your gut” “Yes sir, I can feel you” you answer weakly. Geralt grunts and presses your hand down hard onto where your belly bulges as he slides in and out of you. You wine from the extra stimulation, your head is spinning ever faster. You feel Jaskier’s hardening cock against your backside while the witcher is over you fucking the air out of your lungs. Jaskier snakes his hand down your body and finds your clit. Your whines become ever louder as the searing heat starts building in you. You come within seconds, crying out loudly. Your stomach visibly clenches, your whole body shakes as the fire spreads from your lower belly into every corner of your being. You feel your pussy flooding and it washing over Geralts cock and drip down over your ass. Sweat makes your body glide against the one below you as you are rocked up and down by Geralts thrusts. Jaskier is desperately rutting up into you while holding you tight against his frame. You see stars and your ears are ringing when you feel first Jaskier and then Geralt finding their releases. Hot cum shoots both into and onto you. Jaskier moans into your ear and you can feel Gerald’s cock twitching inside you as he empties himself into you. The aftershock spasms in your lower belly make you moan his name for what feels like an eternity. 

Your back is wet and sticky, but you couldn’t care less. Jaskier holds you in a tight but soft embrace while your breath and heart rate are coming down to normal. Geralt has collapsed forward above you, but is holding himself up on his arms, head down and white hair spreading around your midsection. His cock is still inside you, softening slowly. Nobody moves, only heavy breathing can be heard for a while. You never want to move again.

Geralt lifts his head to look into your eyes asking a silent question. You smile weakly back at him. Yes, you are ok. In fact you are great. Just perfect. Afterglow spasms of the hardest orgasm of your life are still running through your body. You clench down onto Geralt and he glides out of you. You hiss at the sudden feeling of emptiness. Geralt cups your face and leans forward to kiss your forehead. “Well done little lady”. You heart and body are warm and a big wide, drunken smile is plastered over your face. 

Jaskier stirs below you and you slide down his right side. “I guess these bedsheets are ruined anyway” the bard states as he starts to dry his chest and belly off all the fluids that made their way between your bodies using the blanket. It takes another 5min of you colleting yourself before you sit up onto the bedside. A half-clothed Geralt helps you up on shaky legs to walk you to the fire where the men had put a pot of water to heat. They help you clean yourself with a hot towel. You smile at them. It is nice being cared for so gently. Geralt caresses your hair and cheeks. His sweet gesture at odds with the intimidating armour and sword he is putting on. “Thank you” he says finally after he made sure you were string enough to stand on your own again. “We have to leave now, heading up north. But we might come back in a few weeks.” You grasp his strong arm. “I will make sure to get word of your arrival” you say leaning your head into Geralt’s big palm. Jaskier, hugs you from behind. “We wouldn’t want to miss you!” He places a big hearty kiss on your cheek. “I might compose a song about you!” With this he lifts up the packed bags and makes his way downstairs to saddle the horses. 

Geralt still kneels before you. His thumb caresses over your lips as he gets up. He places a kiss on your hair. As he turns around to leave you hold his arm back. “You know, I think they are wrong.” Geralt turns his head with a questioning face. “I think witchers do have feelings. At least one does.” Geralt nods slowly, turns around and leaves with what you think might be a little smile.

[the-hidden-pages]

Kinktober Day 4 - Thigh Riding | Sex Pollen - Jaskier x Fem!Reader

Thigh riding | Sex pollen | Forced orgasm 

Disclaimer: I did interpret “sex pollen” as loose as aphrodisiac - it’s not an actual pollen, it’s a liquid.  Also, it's late, I have work, I did rush a little to get this out but it's better than another day sans post I hope!

Summary: Geralt had warned you of the dangers of consorting with witches. But you had never anticipated the dangers being this.

Warnings: NSFW, Public Sex/Orgies, Aphrodisiac, Dub Con because of the aphrodisiac but they love each other I swear.

Geralt had warned you.

Geralt had warned you of the dangers of witches often enough. Even Yennefer, a witch herself, often advised against mingling with others that dabble in Chaos.

But that didn’t stop Jaskier from accepting the opportunity of performing on behalf of a town’s witch.

It didn’t stop you from attending the gathering in support of him.

Which is how the pair of you wound up in the mansion of the local town’s “healer”, surrounded by townsfolk that were in the know, and various other mages and witches.

Jaskier had sung wonderfully, as captivating as he ever did - and to hold the attention of those as vain as witches and mages was no small feat, you’ll give him that.

As the night went on, he was free to mingle, returning to your side and sip on the wine that was being freely poured, to feast on the foods presented.

“And to think Geralt was worried,” Jaskier scoffed, in his element, overconfident in the way he often became when things were going a little too smoothly.

It didn’t stop you from smiling though, an easy grin matching his on your face. “A worrywart, that one. A white haired worrywart of a Witcher.”

“Isn’t he just? He ought to have more trust in us.”

You chuckled, taking another sip before waving your glass in emphasis. “Did he warn you about the wine?”

“No, what of it?”

“Yennefer mentioned some witches put something in it, an aphrodisiac. Makes the night more fun as it goes on.”

Jaskier made a face, somewhere between a grimace and a grin. “Oh woe is me, a witch’s orgy. Save me, Butcher of Blaviken!”

A snort escapes you as the pair of you take another sip, continuing to pass the time discussing his various adventures with Geralt, his performance, and the various attendees of the soiree.

The conversation carried on easily, until the vibe of the room suddenly, inexplicably, intangibly…Shifted

Suddenly the air was heavier, thicker in a way that was hotter, heavier. It felt as though the voices of the other partygoers was quieting, slowing down. You became more aware of certain things - men sitting with their hands on other women’s thighs, just a little too high. A flush on women’s cheeks that ran a little brighter, went a little further down than the typical blush from too much wine.

And you were very aware of Jaskier sitting beside you.

His thigh lightly touching yours was suddenly scalding you, but in a way that you felt you simply couldn’t move away.

You hadn’t realized you had stopped listening to the conversation entirely until Jaskier called your name.

You met his eyes, ready to apologize, before immediately regretting it.

Were his eyes always so piercing? His hair always so soft? Did you always notice how deeply he unbuttoned his shirt, how noticeable the droplets of sweat were running down it.

Oh.

Oh.

“Jaskier,” you croaked out, suddenly noticing how dry your mouth was. You licked your lips and continued. “Jaskier, the wine. I don’t think Geralt was wrong.”

“Hmm?” the bard only hummed, and you met his eyes again. He was practically in a trance, staring at where your tongue had darted out to wet your lips.

Slowly, around you, you begin to hear soft sighs, and the lower, hushed tones of lovers speaking to one another.

You grow more aware of the unbearable, present, nearly painful heat between your legs, and when you shift, you realize that you’re already drenched.

“Jask…”

The bard reached forward, placing a large, warm, calloused hand on your thighs.

“They spiked the wine,” he breathes out, turning himself enough that his head is resting against yours, words breathing right in your ear and sending chills down your spine.

“Mhm,” your eyes are closed, trying to ignore the stimuli coming from all senses that your body seems hyper aware of. The gasps, the quiet moans, people growing closer.

Jaskier right beside you.

“Darling we can leave right now,” he breathes, hand on your thigh growing tighter, wandering ever so slightly higher. “We can rent a room in the nearest tavern - or two, if you want to wait this out. We don’t have to stay -”

You cut him off, pushing him back. You can see him start to form an apology, but before giving him the chance you stand and move to position yourself on his lap, straddling his legs and capturing him in a frantic kiss.

It’s not coordinated, or careful, or planned. The moment Jaskier’s brain catches up to what you’ve done, he’s immediately pried your lips open with his tongue, tasting you, claiming you, his hand coming around to cradle your head and pull you in deeper. His other hand wanders quickly, greedily, grasping at every inch of you that he can.

You already don’t want clothes in the way.

As quickly as you get on him, you stand again. The bard is dazed, bright eyes nothing but dark pupils gazing at you as you begin to make quick work of your clothes.

It’s the wine, some tiny, miniscule part in the back of your mind speaks. It’s the wine making you strip in front of a room of strangers, the wine making you mount your friend in a fit of desire.

The wine. Only the wine.

It has to be.

Your hands, in their flurry, begin to struggle with the laces, of which Jaskier is far too eager to help you with.

He leans forward, reaching up to help you loosen the corset. As it’s flung somewhere to your side, he makes quick work of your undershirt, your skirts.

Quickly, so quickly it all began, and just as quickly you’re completely nude, with the bard urging you back into his lap.

In your haste, you slip a little, falling to one side and straddling only one of his thighs.

Despite this you moan, jolting slightly as sliding on the thigh offers some friction to your throbbing clit.

“Fuck,” you gasp, grasping on to his shoulders tightly, your body moving without your full consent as you seek any form of relief to the growing burn within you.

It’s too much, the feeling of the cotton trousers beneath you, offering a burning friction to satiate your need, the growing groans echoing throughout the entire room. 

It’s not enough, when Jaskier himself lets out a beautiful moan, feeling you begin to soak through his clothes as you claw at him desperately.

“Dove, please,” he begs, leaning forward to pepper your neck and collarbone with bites. Your hips rock faster, until he tugs harshly at your hair, exposing your neck fully as you shout. His teeth mark your neck and his grip remains firm, his other hand wandering down to aide your movements. 

Your mind, in its wine and drug and lust addled haze, can only focus on two things: easing the burn between your legs, and hearing one of his beautiful sounds again.

And so your hand promptly finds his cock, working it through the flap in his trousers and stroking.

Gods is he hard.

It’s his turn to have his head thrown back, to let out a loud, melodic moan to the room to join the symphony of the others’. It’s rougher than you expected, lightly due to his night of signing and shouting boisterously to a room, but hells did it ever manage to turn you on.

You’re rushing it, you know it, he knows it, but somehow no one can bring themselves to mind as you raise yourself up further, straddling him properly once again.

You stare into the bard’s blue eyes, taking in every expression as you sink down fully, gasping as you feel every inch, every curve, every vein. It’s easy, with how wet you’ve become, and within seconds you’re riding him and hard as you can.

He’s eager to help you, hands grasping your hips so tightly they’re bound to leave bruises, controlling your pace and pulling you ever so slightly closer.

“This isn’t,” Jaskier gasped out, between groans and moans bites to your neck. “This isn’t what I wanted for our first night together.”

“You dreamed of this?” You tease half-heartedly, feeling a warmth in your heart bloom despite the absurdity of the situation.

Was this bard really about to give you a love confession whilst balls deep in you in the midst of a sex party?

“Of course,” he moaned, head thrown back and eyes clenched shut. “Gods, so many nights I wanted to have you, in the nearest room in a tavern, against the nearest wall, in the midst of camp. There was a plan, wine and dinner and singing and flowers, just us - fuck do that again.”

You reach for his hair, forcefully pulling his head back to meet your gaze.

“We’ll do this again,” you promise, thighs burning as you ride faster, chasing that growing feeling within you. “I’ve wanted it too, and we’ll talk about it when this damned wine isn’t in our heads but Jaskier, please just fuck me right now I’m so close -”

He stops you, hand travelling forward to meet your clit, rubbing in just the right way that has you seeing stars within seconds.

With your high comes his, and you can’t help but whine at the feeling of his cum shooting deep within you, warming you from the inside out as you clutch each other desperately, needly, as though you were the answer to some eternal unasked question.

As the pair of you come down, gasping, panting, your ears pick up the rest of the party beginning to quiet as well. It was almost as if the spell had a time limit, you thought aimlessly.

As you came to, and the sensations began to dull, your mind grew louder.

You had just fucked Jaskier.

You were still sitting on his cock.

As you go to move, his hand holds your hip tightly, and the other travels upwards to brush some hair out of your face, cupping your cheek. His gaze is gentle, kind, but hungry.

“We’ll do it again, you say?” he teases, that overconfident smirk back on his face. You can feel him hardening inside you once again, and you shift as a reflex, causing a burst of heat to ignite in you once again. “What say you to back at the inn?”

********************************************************

They did not give me cannonical aphrodisiac usage at witch parties for nothing.

Thank you to @flightlessangelwings for their Kinktober list this year!

[multifandomfix]

Being A Seamstress Who Falls For Jaskier Would Include

You meet Jaskier when he stumbles into your shop, needing his vest repaired after one of his misadventures with some girl’s jealous ex. His charm captivates you from the start, but you’re hesitant, and initially think he’s just another overly flirtatious bard.

After visiting your shop a few times, Jaskier notices your skill and begins weaving metaphors about your craftsmanship into his songs. You catch him humming one such tune, and it makes your heart flutter.

As Jaskier becomes a regular customer, he starts requesting custom outfits for performances, bringing out your creativity. He trusts your vision, praising how your designs help him command attention on stage.

You notice Jaskier finding more reasons to linger in your shop, even when he doesn’t need anything repaired or made. He playfully teases you, but there’s always a softness in his eyes when he does.

One evening, after a particularly rough day, Jaskier seeks refuge in your shop. He drops his usual bravado, revealing a more vulnerable side. You comfort him, and the bond between you grows deeper.

Jaskier starts bringing you rare and beautiful fabrics from his travels as gifts. He insists they’re for your work, but you suspect they’re really a way for him to show his affection.

You admire Jaskier’s boldness and the way he expresses himself through music, while he’s in awe of how your delicate stitches create masterpieces. Both of you recognize and appreciate each other’s art forms.

Eventually, Jaskier invites you to accompany him on the road, promising to serenade you during long travels. You find yourself stitching his torn outfits while sitting by a campfire, with Jaskier always nearby with a song to accompany your work.

The two of you often exchange witty banter, with Jaskier teasing you about your more “serious” nature while you roll your eyes at his flirtatious quips. But beneath the teasing, there’s undeniable chemistry.

One day, during a crowded tavern performance, Jaskier surprises you with a song dedicated to “the finest seamstress in all the continent,” full of heartfelt lyrics that make you blush. That’s when you realize just how much he truly cares for you.

Forever Tag: @baubeautyandthegeek, @ghostsunderstoodmysoul, @immyowndefender, @valencethefriendlychangeling, @crimsonwidow666, @rebelbossheart, @thedailyspiritualist, @orangeisnttheonlyfruit, @woman-simp, @aperol-with-izzy, @leonoralessoem, @ellepossum69, @lakita-fisher, @trexsuit, @analuw, @luvlesavyy, @malfoyfeed, @aliciabrower, @sparrowspixie, @imaginationismyworldlypleasure, @og-kxsh-420

Jaskier: @retvenkos, @dancingwith-sunflowers, @randomfandomimagine, @shitheadsthings, @rubyqueen819, @roxi-reid, @hc-geralt-23, @floresferae, @pink-sunrise-56, @anarrowtotheknee, @tissaiasdarkone, @thekirbishow

[bigfan-fanfic]

Quiet on the Path (Male!Witcher x Jaskier)

Hello! can i request a jaskier x witcher male reader?

tw injury mention

"Is he... going to keep following us?"

The bard had dared to hope that Geralt was an outlier when it came to general chattiness among witchers, but apparently he was among the more talky of the breed.

Being nearly speared through the gut by the branches of a leshen had not improved Geralt's dour demeanor. Luckily Geralt was aware they were skirting the general territory of another witcher.

He had not spoken a single word, this other witcher. At first Jaskier assumed they spoke in magic ways, but soon realized the signs they used were not the typical Witcher signs.

Jaskier had found himself thrown bodily from the little cabin this witcher had resided in while he healed Geralt with concoctions and herbal remedies.

Jaskier never thought he'd miss Geralt's gruff and blunt stoicism, but it was better than completely being stonewalled.

In any case, they had left when Geralt was well enough to travel, although he had spotted the silent witcher following them.

"He's an old nanny goat, worse than Vesemir." Geralt rolled his eyes. "He didn't think I was better enough to ride yet. He'll follow us for another fortnight, at least."

"First off, only you could try and make such a giant of a man seem less intimidating by calling him a nanny goat. Second, how in the living hell did you get all that? He hasn't said a word since we arrived!"

Geralt's face bordered on disappointment, and Jaskier felt an unfamiliar twinge of shame. "I thought a bard would be the first to know that words are only one way to communicate ideas."

That week is the most frustrating of Jaskier's life. There are no words spoken, but the conversation, for once, is one that the bard cannot follow. Geralt and his silent companion move their hands almost too quickly to be seen, clearly using a language of signs that Jaskier cannot hope to decipher.

Geralt is more animated than ever, laughing his deep raspy laugh and leaning back in contentment, and Jaskier practically growls at not having the secret of how to get Geralt in this mood revealed to him.

He keeps attempting to catch the silent witcher off guard, to trick him into speaking. He knows he's not deaf, because there was a smirk when he asked a whispered question to Geralt, asking if this witcher was one of his brothers.

But nothing happens, not until Geralt has gone off hunting, and the silent one is left alone with Jaskier as they make camp.

Jaskier can barely abide silence, so he talks as much as he can. He asks questions but doesn't even leave space for answers.

To be honest, it sounds almost as if he's on the verge of a panic attack by the time the witcher's massive hand clamps over his mouth, stifling the flow of words.

"Are you done?" the witcher smirks, and Jaskier shudders at the sound of the voice.

He nods, unable to get any words out.

"I tend not to speak. I use my hands instead. But your... interest. It is... intriguing."

When Geralt returns to camp after the hunt, he's not entirely surprised to find Jaskier pinned down flat as the witcher kisses him.

"Well, that's one way to shut him up." Geralt laughs. The witcher sits up, still straddling Jaskier, placing a hand back over the bard's mouth despite a protest.

I like him. I'm keeping him. he signed.

Geralt only chuckled.

[welikeimagines-andfandoms]

Characters who will tell you to use them while you ride them

[procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics]

The Witcher Masterlist

my requests for the Witcher are currently OPEN!! i'm partial to eskel, and love writing imagines/talking about my headcanons, but open to pretty much any character!!

message me/hmu to be added to a taglist!

main masterlist | request guidelines

Geralt of Rivia

r o m a n t i c

A Quiet Moment - relationship: geralt x reader | summary: based on some prompt that asked you to write a scene between two characters just being around each other with no dialogue. Immediately thought of Geralt. | tags: fluff, angst

Extraordinarily normal - coming soon...

Scales Unbalanced - coming soon...

Geralt of Rivia NSFW Alphabet | tags: fluff, smut

p l a t o n i c

Stern - coming soon...

Eskel

A Hero from the Songs - coming soon...

Ribs - relationship: eskel x reader | summary: You're not from the world where the Witcher takes place. So, to stay alive, you stay glued to your witcher - Eskel. Catching feelings for him was bound to happen anyway. Right? Maybe a tiny, life-threatening encounter with a leshy is just the little push the both of you need. | tags: fluff, angst

Witchers

Witchers + stressed singlemom!reader - characters: geralt, eskel, lambert, coen | tags: fluff, angst

Geralt, Lambert, Eskel + drunk!so - characters: geralt, lambert, eskel | tags: fluff

Witchers + someone making their s/o uncomfortable - characters: geralt, eskel, lambert, coen | tags: slight angst, fluff

Imagines + headcanons (various)

How The Witcher characters would react to someone from our world falling into theirs - characters: geralt, yen, jaskier, triss, eskel, lambert, vesemir | tags: fluff, crack, timetravel

Modern!Human in Kaer Morhen - characters: geralt, yen, triss, jaskier, eskel, coen, lambert, vesemir | tags: fluff, crack, timetravel

How The Witcher characters would react to Lambert’s child surprise - characters: geralt, yen, ciri, triss, eskel, coen, vesemir | tags: fluff

The Witcher characters + monstertamer!reader - characters: geralt, yen, jaskier, ciri, eskel, lambert, coen, vesemir | tags: fluff

The Witcher characters + maleficent/fae!reader - characters: geralt, jaskier, yennefer, ciri, eskel, lambert, coen, vesemir | tags: fluff

[theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction]

Imagine Jaskier confessing that you are his true muse…

Geralt and Ciri were off in the woods training. So you picked up a light bag of supplies and carried it to the rickety cart for the journey ahead.

The lute-playing bard trailed behind and had struck up a conversation about his inspirations. It was not long before he started listed various women (and men) who crossed his paths and drove him to write a line or two.

“I thought you were with the Countess?” You wondered with a small turn and a carefree laugh. “You last declared, boldly might I add, that she was 'the greatest muse to be found'.”

Jaskier nodded with a small sigh. “In hindsight I probably shouldn’t have. But she had been for my earlier works.”

You let out a laugh that sang into the sky, spinning back around and adjusting the bag in your arms.

“My, you change muses almost as often as pants.” Approaching the cart, you leaned forward and set the bag down. Dusting your hands before looking at the bard who had stopped a few paces away. “Is Geralt going to be the next?”

Jaskier scoffed. “He wishes.”

This made you laugh again. Stepping toward him, you pat his shoulder gently and made to leave but Jaskier clasped your wrist, catching you by surprise. His blue eyes were trained on yours as if opening up to your soul.

“Listen.” He said firmly. All jest washed away now. “You have been the muse to my songs from the moment we met and I cannot comprehend the magic you have woven in my lyrics - the beauty.”

“I’m hardly inspiration, Jaskier.” You told him softly.

“And yet I cannot imagine another face when I think, another smile when I write, another voice when I seek a melody.” Jaskier drew your hand to rest over his heart. “You have changed the essence of my tunes - the true ones.”

It was a folly thing to believe in love and happy endings with the perilous road ahead. And yet, you could not find yourself to pull away. Jaskier found a way to drum your heartbeat and dance to it.

If your fate was to be sealed in blood, then you would feel every remaining joy there was.

~ More imagines here ~

[queenxxxsupreme]

Benevolent Creatures (Jaskier x siren!reader)

A/N: Hi babes!!! I will be posting a little something shortly to just explain a couple things but nonetheless, I hope you enjoy this!

Warnings: nothing outside of canon for the Witcher Netflix

Word Count: 4.5k

“Where is Jaskier leading us, Geralt?” Cirilla asked quietly. Geralt looked over his shoulder to where she sat atop Roach.

“I don’t know.” He answered.

Just ahead of them was Jaskier. He strummed his lute as he walked down a narrow path of moss-covered stones.

Ciri’s eyes flickered to her right. Something scurried beneath the underbrush.

“How much longer until we get to wherever it is you’re taking us, Jaskier?” Geralt stepped over a tree root, then guided Roach by the reins over it.

“Not long at all.” The bard spoke over his shoulder. “We’re nearly there.”

“And where exactly is there?” Ciri raised her eyebrows. “We’re in the middle of nowhere.”

“You’ll see.”

Geralt didn't like how silent everything was. There were no crickets, no frogs, no birds. There was no sign of life anywhere in the swamp.

Roach huffed and whinnied, jerking her head back. Her ears flickered back and forth as if she too was trying to find some sort of sound.

“Shh, girl.” Geralt signed axii, calming her down.

“What’s wrong with her?” Ciri furrowed her brow.

The witcher looked to his Child Surprise, then returned his gaze ahead.

“She knows something isn’t right.” He pulled back a branch from a black willow tree that dangled in the path.

Just a few moments later, the walkway opened up to reveal a pool of water. A wooden bridge that seemed to be decaying crossed over the water and led the way to a small wooden structure on the other side of the pool.

The wooden structure— which appeared to be a home —sat up on wooden stilts four feet off the ground. The front porch wrapped entirely around the home. Green moss and vines of all sorts grew along the sides of the structure, appearing as though it was being engulfed in greenery.

“Jaskier!” Geralt hissed. “What are we doing here?”

“Relax, Geralt.”

As he climbed the stairs to the house, Jaskier straightened out his jerkin and tucked his hair behind his ears. But he decided that having his hair behind his ears wasn’t a good idea and made him appear as though he was trying too hard. So he shook his head out to give himself a bit of a roughened look.

Letting out a breath, Jaskier raised his hand to knock on the door. Before his hand even touched the door, it was pulled open.

You stood just inside your home, a soft smile on your lips.

Without so much as a second thought, the bard embraced you in a firm hug. His arms wrapped around your waist and then around your shoulders. He buried his nose in your hair, inhaling your intoxicatingly sweet scent.

You kissed his neck since that was all you could reach, your fingers grasping his jerkin.

Jaskier pulled away so that he could properly kiss you. His hand found your chin, tilting your head up.

You smiled against his lips. Your hands came up to hold onto either side of his face. The sound of his heart beating quickly filled your ears. It was a familiar sound you always longed to hear.

He pulled away first, blue eyes finding yours.

“You smell odd.” You furrowed your eyebrows as you looked up at him, brushing your thumb across his stubbly cheek.

You couldn’t quite place what he smelled like, but it wasn’t his usual scent. There was someone else laced with him, someone’s scent that made the hair on your neck stand on end.

“Well, I haven’t properly bathed in days— thanks to a series of unfortunate events.”

You opened your mouth to speak, ready to offer him a bath, but you heard movement to your right. You turned your head, eyes landing on the witcher and the child Jaskier had been traveling with.

You could sense her Chaos, the powerful aura radiating off of the girl. But she wasn’t what concerned you.

The white haired witcher carried twin swords on his back. A part of you wondered if they were the same swords he had decades ago. The same swords he used to try to murder you with. The same ones that he used to kill your sister.

A scar on your forearm burned from the sight of the swords. Instinctively, you placed your hand over the scar.

You took a step away from Jaskier, brows drawing together.

“Julian, what is the meaning of this?”

Geralt’s nose scrunched as he realized who you were. Your voice was far too familiar to forget. His medallion trembled, causing him to place his hand over it. The wrinkle between his brow deepened with frustration.

Without any explanation to the girl, he reached an arm out to guide Ciri behind him.

The simple action made you even more tense and unsure of the situation. He was preparing to fight you.

A growl began to vibrate in your chest, animalistic and primal.

“What the fuck, Jaskier!” Geralt demanded, drawing a sword from his back.

As you growled once more, dagger-like claws grew from what had once been human nails on your hands.

The bard came to stand between you both, holding his hands out to either of you.

“No, no! There will be no fighting!”

“Witcher.” You spoke through your teeth.

“What is she?” Ciri asked quietly, her question directed to Geralt.

“Siren.” Geralt let out a breath. He didn’t want to let on that he was worried. Should you choose to do so, you could very easily incapacitate him and slaughter Ciri and Jaskier. “Jaskier, why the fuck have you brought us here?”

“We will be safe here for a little while, Geralt! At least until we can get some sort of plan figured out.”

Your eyes shot to the bard, unaware of his intentions. Never had he brought anyone to your home.

“Ciri will not be staying here.” Geralt told him, yellow eyes finding yours.

Your lip curled up into a snarl. Human teeth were replaced with what looked like dozens of sharp canines.

“Alright, darling.” Jaskier turned to face you, reaching out to place a hand on your arm. You turned and stormed into your home before he could put his hand on you.

“Don’t you dare touch me!”

Jaskier followed quickly behind you.

“Y/N, I don’t—,”

“You brought a witcher here to my home, Julian! And now I cannot stay here!” You spun around to face him. Your chest ached with betrayal.

“My love, my dear heart. Geralt isn’t here to cause you any harm.”

“You can’t see into his mind.” You shook your head, walking away from him once more. “He’s already made his decision and decided my fate.”

“He’s probably made that decision based on what he knows of other beings like you, but my heart, you aren’t like them.” Jaskier took your hand to stop you from moving away from him. “You are different. All you need to do is show him.”

You looked up at him, searching his blue eyes for a few moments.

Gods, you had missed those blue eyes so much.

“I won’t beg a man for my life, Julian.”

You pulled your hands out of his and turned to walk away again. This time, you only made it a few steps before he spoke.

“I’ve told you stories of Geralt before, my sweet. You’ve heard the ballads of our journeys. I am so, so sorry that I brought them here to your home.” His eyes fell down to his hands momentarily. “I wouldn’t have done it if I had any other choice, dear heart. That girl out there, she’s in danger and this is the only place that I know she is safe. And Geralt trusts me, he trusts my judgment enough to allow me to bring her here…. So I-I suppose all I am asking is that you just please, please my love, my heart, trust me as well.”

You looked past him to the front door that was left open. The witcher still stood at the bottom of the stairs that led to the porch.

Your stomach twisted with the idea of letting him into your home, into what was perhaps the only safe place you had left. After what had happened the last time you encountered the witcher, the mighty Butcher of Blaviken, you didn’t even want to be in the same providence as him.

“I do trust you, Julian.” You murmured.

Jaskier kissed your knuckles and then your lips, smiling at you.

“I owe you one.”

“You owe me more than that.” You raised your brows as he took a step away from you.

“Indeed I do.”

***

While Jaskier talked with Geralt and Ciri outside, you busied yourself with straightening a few things in your home.

There was a small stack of books that had grown on the kitchen table. You picked them up and crossed the room to the wall of bookshelves on the opposite side of the room.

“I didn’t think sirens were capable of appearing….” Ciri trailed off as she walked into your home. “Human.”

“They aren’t.” You placed the last book on the shelf. “Sirens are only capable of looking like sirens.”

“But you said she was a siren.” She looked over to Geralt.

“It’s…. complicated, Ciri.”

You crossed your arms, eyes set on Geralt.

“Because something is complicated, you refuse to explain it to her?”

The witcher gritted his teeth together.

“You are standing before what is perhaps the last Nixe on the Continent, Ciri.” Geralt held your gaze. “They were nearly hunted to extinction at the beginning of the century.”

“Why?”

“Because they are extremely dangerous. Far more than the sirens you’ve seen from Skellige.”

You tilted your chin up, trying your damnedest to remain calm and collected while the witcher spoke of the truth he knew.

“Every creature must hunt for their food.” You said. “A lion hunts for its food just the same as a fawn. Doesn’t mean the lion should be killed.”

“Your kind turned into a problem when you began slaughtering hundreds of humans purely for entertainment.”

The tension in the air was thick and uncomfortable as neither you nor the witcher backed down from the glaring contest.

Jaskier clapped his hands together, making you look in his direction.

“Alright! Geralt, let’s go outside.”

“Come on, Ciri—,”

“No, she stays here.” Jaskier pointed to Ciri.

Geralt’s eyes shot over to the bard.

“I am not leaving her here with—,”

“Yes, you are.” Jaskier grabbed Geralt’s arm. “If Y/N wanted to spill blood today, she would have done so already. You know that. Now, outside! Come on!”

You watched as Jaskier ushered Geralt out of your home and closed the door behind himself.

Ciri looked around your home for a couple moments before her green eyes flickered to you.

“How long have you known Jaskier?”

“A while.”

“Geralt said you were dangerous.” Ciri’s blue eyes looked you over. “You don’t look dangerous.”

You wore an off white dress that brushed the floor as you walked. There was a slit up one side of the skirt that came just above mid-thigh. Over the dress was a dark green underbust corset. You wore no shoes, finding the material irritating and the restriction caused by them unbearable. Brown leather bracelets encircled both of your wrists and ankles.

You twisted a ring on one of your fingers as you moved towards the kitchen table.

“Come have a seat, child.”

She sat down across from you, curious to hear what you had to say.

“My kind…. We are very similar to sirens found on the coasts. We both are only women, and we both can produce what you know of as a siren song. But only sirens can fly, and only nixes can shapeshift.”

“That’s how you are able to appear human? By shapeshifting?”

“Yes.” You nodded, rubbing your arm absentmindedly. “Centuries ago, nixes existed just as any other creature. I suppose you could say we are dangerous, but humans are dangerous as well.”

“How are you dangerous?” Ciri tilted her head to the side a little.

“Just as sirens do, nixes hunt humans.”

The girl shifted in her spot, her eyes falling to the deer mandible on the table.

“Don’t worry, child.” You reached over to offer her a comforting hand, but at the last minute, you decided against it. You returned your hand to your lap. “Julian wouldn’t have allowed you here if I was like that.”

“Nixes…. What did Geralt mean when he said nixes kill for entertainment?”

You let out a soft breath.

“Nixes and humans are very similar, dear. Humans kill for pleasure too. They start wars, they slaughter their neighbors…. But my kind, we had a few slip ups where we went too far…. And there was no going back. For that very reason, we were hunted to near extinction.”

The front door opened and automatically, you stood up. It was only Jaskier, who offered you a gentle smile.

“Ah, sorry about that, ladies.”

“Where’s Geralt?” Ciri asked.

“He had to take Roach into town to be stabled.l since Y/N doesn’t have a stable she could stay in.”

“I have no need for a horse.” You reminded him. “They tend to have a strong dislike for my kind.”

You sat back down in your chair as Jaskier came to stand next to your chair.

“I apologize for his behavior, my sweet.” He placed a hand upon your arm and leaned down to kiss your head.

“There’s no reason for you to apologize for the ways of another man.”

“I hope Ciri isn’t giving you any hassle.”

The girl wrinkled her nose at Jaskier.

“None at all.” You smiled, shaking your head softly. “She’s just curious.”

***

Jaskier took Geralt away from the house in hopes that maybe you wouldn’t hear their conversation. But the witcher wasn’t keen on putting space between himself and the monster that had been left with his Child Surprise.

“I will not go any further, Jaskier.” Geralt spoke firmly, stopping his tracks just a few feet from the porch.

“Geralt, you—,”

“You led us straight to a fucking siren, Jaskier.”

“You don’t understand, Geralt! Ciri is safer here than she is anywhere else!”

“She’d be safer in a wyvern’s nest than here.”

“In all our years, Geralt, we’ve come across plenty of monsters that weren't actually monsters. Y/N is one of those–,”

“I promise you, Jaskier, she isn’t what you think.”

“But she is, Geralt!” A smile came to Jaskier’s face. “I’ve known her for seven years, and I swear to you she is one of the kindest, most gentle beings I have ever met. And-And I cannot have you holding such a harmful bias against someone I love!”

Geralt shook his head, rubbing his brow.

“You said the same thing about the blacksmith’s daughter in Caingorn last month.”

Jaskier shook his head and waved his hands dismissively.

“No, no, Geralt. Love isn’t black and white my friend! It’s shades of gray. Y/N— She is my one true love. The one my heart yearns for every bleeding second of the day. The one I long for when I am away. The one that causes a fire in my–,”

“Does she know your love isn’t black and white?”

“Yes! She does! And she is welcoming to my love.”

The witcher raised his brows. Jaskier let out a sigh, brushing his hair back.

“Geralt, please. She’s someone important to me. I love her and I trust her with my life. Yes, in the past she has hurt people…. But what matters is that she isn’t that anymore.”

Geralt shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his eyes flickering to the house.

He wanted to trust Jaskier, but sometimes the bard’s judgment could be distracted by the presence of an attractive being.

“The first time I feel that Ciri’s life is in danger, we are leaving.”

“Thank you, Geralt!” Jaskier embraced him in a tight hug. “And I will speak with Y/N about her…. Hospitality. Though I’m sure showing up on her doorstep was quite the surprise. Y/N isn’t keen on strangers, but she is a sweetheart once you get to know her.”

The witcher grumbled, disagreeing with his friend.

***

With two satchels over his shoulders, Geralt made his way into the house. His eyes flickered around the room in search of Ciri. He spotted his Child Surprise sitting at the table with you and Jaskier.

Jaskier’s chair was pulled rather close to yours, his arm wrapped around yours and your fingers laced together.

For a split second, Geralt saw you smiling as you spoke to Ciri. But then your eyes flickered over to the White Wolf and in the same instant, the smile fell from your lips.

“It’s getting late.” He spoke, placing the bags down beside the table. “Jaskier mentioned a guest room where Ciri could rest.”

“Just down the hall.” You nodded once.

Ciri’s stomach growled with hunger. She smiled sheepishly, bringing her hand up to her stomach.

You and the witcher were the only two to hear thanks to your enhanced hearing.

“My apologies, child. I wasn’t aware I’d be having company.” You frowned, feeling a bit guilty that you didn’t have the proper food for her.

“In the morning, I will go into town and gather what supplies we will need.” Jaskier volunteered.

You stood to your feet and moved around your home, picking up a netted bag.

“Where are you going, Y/N?” Jaskier’s eyes followed you.

“I can’t have her going to bed with an empty stomach.” You gestured to her. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. For the meantime, start a fire in the hearth, please.”

As the front door closed behind you, Ciri looked at Geralt.

“I quite like her.”

He grunted and rolled his eyes.

“You shouldn’t be so quick to pass judgements.”

“Same could be said for you.”

Geralt turned his head to look at the bard, who moved away from the table to start a fire in the hearth.

***

After a small dinner consisting of fish cooked over the fire, you found yourself sitting alongside the young girl as she asked you questions.

“Are Nixes from a specific area?”

“We can inhabit any water source. Lakes, rivers, ponds, seas.”

“And swamps?”

You smiled a little, nodding your head.

“Yes, even swamps.”

“Where are you from?”

You looked over to her for a few moments, trying to think of a good answer.

“When you’ve lived as long as I have, child, you don’t keep track of something so trivial.”

She nodded her head and fell silent for a little while.

“I think it is a good time for bed.” Geralt stood to his feet.

“Y/N, have you got anything Ciri can change into?” Jaskier asked. “At least until her clothes can be washed tomorrow?”

“Yes, of course. But I do think she could use a bath before changing into clean clothes, don’t you think so, dear?”

“A bath would be lovely.” Ciri nodded her head enthusiastically. The poor girl was smudge with dirt and grime. Her greasy hair was pulled back into a braid and she smelled less than pleasant. A bath would be the perfect way to finish the night.  

“There’s a pool of water not too far away–,”

“It’s getting dark outside.” Geralt interjected, causing himself to be at the other end of your glare once more. “There are things outside that could harm Ciri.”

“I can keep her safe, witcher.”

Geralt locked his jaw.

“Geralt.” Jaskier said his name as if to encourage him to let you take the young girl out.

“Fine. Ten minutes.”

You nodded once, a wordless agreement.

***

You sat on the edge of the pool of water. One foot was dipped into the water. You leaned back on your hands, your eyes flickering around the edge of the woods.

While the princess bathed, you sat guard.

Crickets, cicadas, and frogs made a beautiful and tranquil sound that resonated through the woods. Every now and then, something would splash as it broke into the water on the other side of the pool. Ciri would jump and turn in the direction of the noise. You would tell her that it was a bullfrog or a fish breaching the surface, and you may have lied a little bit to her whenever the noise came from an alligator. The animals had no interest in coming close to you, so the girl was safe.

“Y/N? Can I ask you something?” Ciri brushed her wet hair over one shoulder. You gave her a nod in reply. “Geralt is usually a very good judge of character…. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so hostile towards someone within the first few moments of meeting them.”

You turned your head to watch a black and white ringed snake slither along the top of the water and away from yourself and Ciri.

“This isn’t my first encounter with him.” Your eyes flickered back to her. “The Continent is unfortunately far too small for those of us unfazed by time.”

“I take it you don’t like each other.”

There was a long pause as you gazed at her, tempted to tell her all the gory details of the first time you ran into the infamous Butcher himself.

“He killed my sister.” Your voice fell to a quiet murmur.

“I…. I’m sorry for your loss.

You sat up, brushing the dirt off of your palms.

“She was the reason for her own demise in the end. Witchers rarely give my kind a second chance. The White Haired One saw us as more than just beasts. He gave my sister and myself a second chance. She could not control her urges.”

“Urges?”

You nodded lightly, reaching your hand out to skim the surface of the water.

“Every monster craves something. Most act on their hunger, slaughtering entire villages to satisfy their cravings. Some act on the pain that rests inside them. They destroy whatever they can get their hands on in an effort to get others to feel the same pain they do.”

“And what is it you do?” Ciri tilted her head to the side just a little.

“Survive.”

[delusionalwritingsofagay]

Geralt of Rivia 

One shots

Fics

Jaskier

One shots

Fics

Of Monsters and Melodies - I Rated G I CW: None I Tags : Soulmate au, Witcher reader, fluff

[sailorkamino]

just imagining geralt in a poly relationship with jaskier and poet!reader,

"i love your hair, my dear witcher. it's like moonlight."

"yet his eyes are like sunlight."

"ooh write that down!"