#The curse is just Jaskiers powers

[thedemonofcat]

Hanahaki Disease.

When Jaskier was young, he was cursed. That’s would he had been told. Any form of unrequited love would cause him to cough up Flower Petal. Not only that, eventually, the curse would be over, and Jaskier would turn into trees and flowers.

So Jaskier had been told not to fall in love. Which was a lot harder said than done. As Jaskier found himself falling in Love with everyone. It was never too bad. Only a few flowers.

Then came Geralt. Jaskier fell in love, and he fell in love fast and hard with the Witcher. Sometimes, it only felt like falling with Geralt.

Of course, Geralt did seem to return his feelings, and so the petals kept coming up. But Jaskier hid them; he could die happy if it were with Geralt.

Geralt left him on the mountain, but the petals didn’t stop.

Sometime Later, Jaskier found himself again with Geralt, this time in Kear Morhen with the Ciri, Yennefer and the rest of Geralt’s family. Now, Jaskier knew he didn’t belong; if he did, the petals would have stopped. But at least Geralt was trying to be nicer to him.

One morning, Jaskier awoke to find bark on his legs, and he knew his end was coming

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 143

He has no idea where he is, nor where he was, nor where he was headed. He has no idea who he is, who he was, or what he's done. He doesn't know of friends, of family, of enemies. All he knows is that he has a horse, and he has two swords, and when he looks in the reflection, he doesn't look human. He wonders at first if he was perhaps cursed. And then one day he makes fire come out of his hands on accident. Perhaps not a curse, then. He tries to recall creatures with the power to harness flame. Maybe he was a hybrid. A tryst between some fire-flinging beast and some either very brave or very stupid human. Days later, his cloak's hood up and covering his face, he stumbles into a town. Maybe he can at least learn where the hell he is. A person standing outside a building catches his eye. He doesn't quite know why. There were plenty of other people... But something about this man just... Was different. He approaches the person, and sees that the man, dressed colorfully, is currently pinning up a paper. "DEAR FRIEND PRESUMED MISSING Jaskier The Bard housed in the Triple Eye Inn will pay handsomely for any and all news on the health and whereabouts of The White Wolf" "...You lost your dog?" He asks the colorful man. "Hm? N- No. He's a Witcher." "What's a witcher?" "...My good sir, you know not of witchers? I can remedy that if you catch the performance I'm doing after I put up the rest of these. I've only a couple left." "I don't understand." "...Witchers are monsterhunters. Heroes. Though of course, not everyone sees it the same way." "...And that's why he's missing?" "I... I doubt he's truly missing... I suspect he's sooner got himself in a small pickle and got held back a few towns and is just.. A tad late to meeting up with me, is all. You don't remember seeing him in your travels, by chance?" "I don't remember anything." The colorful man gawks for a moment. Hm. Perhaps that wasn't the best way to answer. "You don't.. Pardon?" "I don't remember anything. I woke up in the middle of the woods with a horse and two swords and that's all I've got." "A horse and two sw- Geralt?" "Who?" And the colorful man RIPS his cloak off. He blinks in surprise. The colorful man blinks back. "Geralt.." "...I'm... Geralt?" "Yes! Yes, you're Geralt, you fool! Help me take down these papers, and then WE are seeing Yennefer about this memory issue of yours." "Who's Yennefer?" "Why couldn't you have just been late?"

[catscraftsandcommentary]

I need Lambert/Milena in a Shrek AU.

Just imagine with me:

Duke de Roggeven insults a powerful wizard (we all know he would - he'd be lucky if it was only ONE) who then curses his daughters. All three of them.

(ETA: he pissed off Yennefer. Probably insulted her mixed elven heritage and/or her inability to have kids, so she went "alright. Let's see how you feel when YOUR daughters are inhuman and infertile monsters.")

By night, each of them transforms into a different non-human humanoid: Marta is a succubus (all her lust for power and a crown turned into a different kind of lust - and we'll pretend that succubi *can* live without sex, but they feel sick and hungry the whole time), Marika is an elf (still elegant and pretty, but inhuman enough to shock everyone - Marika didn't piss off Yennefer), and Milena is a witcher (Yennefer saw her strength and kindness and went "this suits you.")

Marta, of course, spends the entire time being FURIOUS at being some "sex obsessed half goat! I am the daughter of a DUKE! The ELDEST DAUGHTER! How dare she!" Marika isn't happy, per se, but she privately goes "it could be a LOT worse. I'll take it." Milena actually enjoys her new abilities - she's so strong! Her senses are much sharper! - and the eyes are rather pretty.

After being COMPLETELY HORRIFIED that his daughters (well, mostly Marta) are cursed to become non-humans by night, Duke de Roggeven locks them in a castle guarded by a dragon and then pretends that he's sent them abroad to stay with distant relatives.

Meanwhile, Marta is getting on EVERYONE'S last nerve with her constant bitching, Marika is trying to keep their lifestyle as pleasant as possible, and Milena...

Milena befriends the dragon. She thinks Villentretenmerth is fascinating, and when she learns that the three ladies who showed up to help the sisters are also dragons, she wants to learn as much as they can teach her.

(Marta refuses to acknowledge any of them. "I will not consort with beasts," she sniffs hautily, and locks herself in a private bedroom every night before sunset.)

So! Back in Redania, Duke de Roggeven has convinced everyone that Yennefer's line about "whoever breaks the curse will gain a treasure greater than gold or gems" means that they can gain literal treasure (and/or magical treasure) by rescuing and marrying his daughters, and not - to take an example COMPLETELY at random - their true love as a bride.

(Yes, true love is the cure. Of course it is.)

So the asshole king of Kaedwen hears about the supposed princess and holds a huge tournament - and Lambert shows up because "that fucker dumped a bunch of refugees in our mountains, the fucking bastard. Who does that?!"

Jaskier, being one of the refugees - and also a bard who can sense the potential for a good story - insists on coming with him. They 100% do the "Donkey won't stop singing until Shrek snaps at him to shut up - and then he hums" scene.

About five times.

(Geralt and Eskel either stayed home to help Vesemir manage the refugees or hang around the Kaedweni court to remind the king of his promise - and make sure he doesn't get any even WORSE ideas.)

(Lambert REFUSED to stay in Kaer Morhen when Vesemir was being bossy - "I get enough of him riding my damn ass during fucking winter, NO GODSDAMNED WAY." And his brothers very sensibly refused to let him stay in court longer than absolutely necessary because, uh, they've MET Lambert and they know exactly how badly it would go. So he gets rescue duty by default. At least the princess will be happy to get to Ard Carraigh and away from him. They send Jaskier with him to try to temper some of his, uh, Lambert-ness.)

Anyway! Lambert and Jaskier arrive at the tumbledown castle guarded by a dragon, and Jaskier is immediately like "oh how wonderful! How majestic! Look at that wingspan!" And Lambert is like "...remember how we're here to fight the bastard? We have to GET PAST HIM to rescue whatever noble bint got stuck out here."

Jaskier pouts.

Villentretenmerth finds all this terribly amusing, especially since he recognizes a witcher when he sees one. So he sticks his nose in their camp and asks (rumbles) "what makes you think that even a witcher can defeat the greatest and oldest of dragonkind?"

So Jaskier introduces them - as dramatically and fancily as possible - and states that they are here to rescue the princess.

Milena creeps out from Villentretenmerth's wing. "We are the daughters of the Duke de Roggeven, and there are three of us. I hope you will still take us home?"

Villentretenmerth sighs. This girl. Always getting underfoot. "I will let you take the ladies with you - but you must convince them to leave freely. If they refuse - now or later - I will take them back."

"He sent THREE girls to some remote fucking castle? Fucker. Yeah, I'll take you all. Jask, let's find 'em and get out of here."

So Milena leads them up to the tallest tower where her sisters spend their day. I can't decide if I want Marta to do the whole "sleeping beauty waiting for a kiss" thing (assuming that JASKIER is her princely rescuer and Lambert is just there as a guard.) If she does, she'll get a rude surprise when Lambert shakes her awake and tells her to pack anything she's taking with her, they're LEAVING.

So the guys get the ladies and lead them out - pretending to ignore the hissing and squabbling that said ladies are doing behind the men's backs - and are unhappily surprised AGAIN because not only are their rescuer(s) NOT a prince and his retinue, they don't even have HORSES.

The dragons, of course, are watching this with amusement...and no little relief at getting rid of Miss Complainer the Eldest.

I'm gonna say it takes less than two days for Marta and Lambert to have a truly nasty fight. She wants a horse. A private carriage, really, but she'll SETTLE for a horse. Purebred, obviously. And fashionable new dresses, and BATHS, and food cooked in an actual KITCHEN, and a private bedroom from sundown to sunrise, and...

Lambert is just like "look lady, I don't get any reward until I deliver you, I don't have the coin for any of that, and I wouldn't waste on stupid fucking luxuries if I did."

This does not go over well. At all. There are very angry words shouted about his lack of preparation, decorum, breeding, proper dress...the list is endless.

Lambert gives exactly zero shits.

Milena is watching the fight with interest - she finds him FASCINATING - and Marika is mostly trying to stay out of it. She agrees with Marta on most of the points - their tower-castle was reasonably comfortable, certainly more so than this long hike back to civilization - but also, freedom.

If only they were returning home instead of to a strange country...

Which is about when Villentretenmerth - as the human Borsch - walks into their camp, accompanied by the three dragon woman who have been tending to the sisters. "Marchionesses. Wolf. Bard. I warned you I would take the ladies back if they wished to leave your company."

"The TOWER is better than staying with this BARBARIAN," Marta sniffs. "And Father arranged for marriages for Marika and I already!"

(She knows she gets the crown prince - and she knows that Kaedwen's king is a murderous asshole. Being queen doesn't count if she's not alive to enjoy it...and she won't have allies there to help her plot regicide. She's ambitious, not stupid.)

Somehow, it works out that Borsch and his friends take Marta and Marika back while Lambert and Jaskier continue to Kaedwen with Milena. There is ABSOLUTELY a scene where Lambert is out hunting when bandits try to attack the supposedly unguarded noblewoman and bard, and Milena thoroughly kicks their ass.

Lambert runs back just in time to be HELLA aroused impressed at Milena. Jaskier is already composing an ode to her.

They arrive at Ard Carraigh. Stuck up knights send for the king, who pretends he's a decent person long enough to carry Milena off on a fancy horse. Half an hour later, just as Lambert is moping about losing his new friend, his brothers arrive and go "quick, where's the lady? We have to get out her out of here!"

A very confusing but short explanation-argument later, Eskel and Geralt are chasing after Lambert as he storms the royal palace BY HIMSELF, because like hell will he leave Milena to that monster!

The confrontation is absolutely the most dramatic thing Ard Carraigh has seen in decades, with the witchers storming in just after Milena is crowned but before she can kiss her new husband...

...whom Lambert immediately punches in the face. "HOW MANY WOMEN HAVE YOU KILLED?!? HOW MANY, ASSHOLE? Did you even bother to COUNT THEM?"

Everyone gasps. Eskel and Geralt keep the guards back with drawn swords.

"NO MORE! I *WILL NOT* let you murder Milena for your sick fucking games!"

The king tries to splutter something, but Lambert takes his head off before he can get it out.

And then the sun sets.

And Milena...changes.

Scars from her training with the dragons, greater muscles than any noblewoman should have, and her eyes...

She shrieks - not at the king's death or the witchers' violence, but at her own secret coming out. She's hidden it for so long, and so carefully...she'll never survive this. The Kaedweni court will turn her out, if they don't execute her with her (very briefly) husband -

And then Lambert takes her hand.

"Milena? Are you...okay? Did they hurt you? What happened?"

"I'm CURSED! My sisters and I are cursed - for years now!"

He looks at her. "Y'look fine to me. It suits you."

"Really?"

"I wouldn't lie to you. Never have, never will. And I think you look - good. Really good. The dress is kinda silly - "

Milena giggles. She thought the same thing, when her maids were lacing and buttoning her into the massive thing.

"But YOU are gorgeous. Always have been."

"You still like me? Even..."

"As mutated and scarred up as I am? I'd have to be a fool not to. You're the bravest, strongest, most amazing woman I've ever met."

And she kisses him. She has to, can't hold it back.

(Cue the curse breaking - and leaving her as a witcher.)

Obviously there's cleanup, but Milena IS the queen, and is suddenly betrothed to the man who killed the murderous previous king - so it works out.

And then Villentretenmerth comes back.

[jessiexcorner]

‘Destiny is she.’

Kerack.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"We didn't have a relationship."

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

"Hey! I know you!"

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

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

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

"Actual, I have a proposition for you."

"Not interested."

"I think you will be-"

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

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

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

"Call her destiny." Yennefer scoffed.

"Destiny?" The young girl nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Huh?"

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

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

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

                                                       . . .

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

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

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

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

"You knocked me out!"

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

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

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

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

"Why did you want me here?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Right. Sounds simple enough."

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

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

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

"He's not-"

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

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

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

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

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

[wren-of-the-woods]

Love, Joy, and Kittens

When Geralt and Yennefer finally get a room at an inn after weeks of travel, Jaskier expects to spend a calm evening with his lovers and sleep in a real bed. This plan is derailed when they find an unexpected creature in their room. Or: In which Geralt, Yennefer, and Jaskier meet a kitten. Established Geraskefer, 5k, rated T. Also on AO3!

Jaskier was having a lovely week.

Ciri had gone off with Lambert and Coën. According to Lambert, they were “having some uncle-niece bonding time.” Jaskier had suspected that this would involve a large number of explosives, cursing in various languages, and very little room for anything else, so he had suggested that he, Geralt, and Yennefer travel alone for a time and rejoin them in a few weeks. The relief on Geralt’s and Yennefer’s faces at the idea had been highly amusing. 

The three of them had been wandering the Path for almost a week. It had, for the most part, been wonderful. Jaskier got to spend time with his lovers, singing at them and making them laugh. He got to appreciate their beauty all day long. He got to spend every night cuddled up to the two of them, reveling in the warmth and safety.

However, he did not get to do any of this cuddling in an actual bed.

Their financial reserves were not exactly plentiful and, with Ciri gone, they did not have any real reason to prefer the comfort of an inn over the convenience of a bedroll in the woods. Jaskier understood all of this perfectly well. This did not mean he was happy about it. 

He may have complained about it a little bit, but, well, he was a bard. If Yennefer and Geralt didn’t want to hear a little whining now and then, they shouldn’t have brought him along. 

Jaskier hadn’t expected anything to come of his grousing. Jaskier had been wrong. 

After a particularly long day of travel, Geralt and Yennefer apparently came to an unspoken agreement. Geralt led Roach into the first town they came across and Yennefer headed in the direction of the inn. Jaskier’s confused and halfhearted objections (“What? Yen, that’s not really necessary, I know we don’t have much coin. I’m really fine, I swear!) were met with firm denial (“Shut up and let us spoil you, idiot), so Jaskier deemed it best to give in.

He made as though to protest at the price the innkeeper named for the single room that was apparently available, thinking to offer his services as a bard in exchange for a discount, but Yennefer cut him off before he could. She handed over the money and nodded in approval when Geralt began to drag him upstairs. She followed them shortly after.

“I still think I should have performed,” Jaskier was saying. He tugged halfheartedly at the grip Geralt had on his hand, though he could not claim that he really minded the touch.

“You’re exhausted,” said Geralt. 

“I think that, as irritating as the innkeeper was, this town does not quite deserve your half-asleep caterwauling,” said Yennefer with a smirk as she came up behind them. 

“Hey! I’ll have you know that you two are the only ones who I grace with my half-asleep caterwauling. Everyone else gets only my performance voice or my drunk caterwauling. Sleepy Jaskier is a gift that only you two get to see.”

“We’re grateful,” said Geralt, “But you really should sleep. Without singing.”

“Just because I’m not a great and powerful magical being doesn’t mean I can’t handle a little fatigue, Geralt.”

“Yes, and acting like a child who doesn’t want to go to bed is such a good way to prove your strength,” said Yennefer.

“Excuse me,” Jaskier said as they approached their room, “I act only with the greatest of grace and—”

A mewling sound from the other side of the door cut off his words.

It was soft enough that Jaskier barely heard it, but the way Geralt froze and stared at the door was enough to assure him that he was not imagining anything. He blinked.

“What’s that?” he asked.

Yennefer was frowning. “I don’t know, but be careful.”

“Is it magical?”

“I don’t think so.”

“It doesn’t smell like a monster,” Geralt agreed.

“Who knows what the innkeeper put in there, though?” asked Yennefer. “It could be a trap.”

“Yes. Be careful.”

The three of them stood there for a moment, staring at the door. It occurred to Jaskier that they would likely look rather comical to an outside observer.

“Well? Are we going in?” he asked.

After a moment of hesitation, Yennefer stepped forward. Slowly, carefully, she opened the door and peeked inside the room. She was silent for a long moment.

“Well? Is it dangerous?” asked Jaskier.

“I’m… not sure,” said Yennefer. Geralt stepped forward with a frown to lean over Yennefer and peek in the room as well.

“What the fuck?” said Geralt.

Jaskier’s heart pounded. He tried to get a look inside the room, but it was effectively blocked by the bodies of his witcher and witch. He stood on his tiptoes. It was no good.

“What is it?” he asked again. “A trap? A monster? Please don’t tell me we have to find somewhere else to sleep. My feet are already killing me. Why aren’t you saying anything? Is it gruesome? Can I see?”

With an irritated glance at Jaskier, Geralt stepped back. A little shakily, Yennefer opened the door and entered the room. Jaskier shoved past her and saw, sitting directly in the center of the room’s only bed—

A tiny, fluffy, orange kitten.

Its head was almost comically oversized for its body. Its tail was neatly tucked around its paws. It was looking at them with an adorably bewildered expression, appearing rather like it had just been woken up from a nap. Jaskier thought it could probably have sat in one of Geralt’s hands with very little trouble.

Jaskier stared at it. It stared back.

Jaskier burst into uncontrolled, delighted laughter.

Yennefer shot him an irritated look. Geralt shuffled awkwardly behind him. This only served to make Jaskier laugh harder.

“A kitten!” he wheezed when he caught a breath between giggles. “You were so nervous— You paranoid bastards— I cannot believe— It’s just a tiny kitten!”

“It might be a trap,” Geralt protested weakly.

“You could probably eat it in a single bite if you wanted to, Geralt!”

“That’s morbid,” said Yennefer. She sounded amused.

“And you!” said Jaskier, wheeling around to face her. “You said you didn’t know if it was dangerous! Yennefer of Vengerburg, the most powerful and feared mage on the Continent, was unnerved by a tiny little cat!”

“I can strangle you, Pankratz.”

Jaskier was overtaken by another fit of giggles.

The kitten mewled again, this time sounding rather disgruntled. Jaskier whirled around to face it.

“Oh, you poor dear. Did we wake you up from your nap? What are you doing here, anyway? Where’s your family?”

“It’s a cat,” said Yennefer. “It can’t understand you.”

“Oh, I thought it was a terrifying supernatural being capable of destroying nations.”

“On second thought, maybe strangulation is too good for you.”

Ignoring her, Jaskier approached the bed. Slowly, he held out his hand towards the kitten. It sniffed his fingers then mewled again. Gently, Jaskier stroked its head with a finger. Its eyes went wide. For a moment, Jaskier thought he had gone too far, but then the kitten pushed up into the touch. Jaskier’s heart positively melted. He kept stroking its head, unable to help the grin that spread across his face.

Behind him, he heard Geralt slowly sidle into the room. The kitten did not react.

“Are you sure it’s a real cat?” Geralt asked Yennefer. Jaskier glanced back to see him staring at the kitten, almost transfixed. “Cats don’t like witchers.”

“I don’t feel any magic,” Yennefer admitted.

“It’s kind of hard to be afraid of someone who’s halfway across the room and looking like a frightened pigeon, even if you’re a cat,” said Jaskier.

Geralt scowled and ignored him. “It can’t stay on the bed forever. We need to sleep there.”

“That is an issue,” said Jaskier thoughtfully. He turned to the kitten. “What are we going to do with you, hmm?”

“Again, it can’t understand you,” said Yennefer.

“Ignore them,” Jaskier told the kitten. “They do not understand the concept of whimsy.”

Slowly, Jaskier shifted so he was sitting on the bed beside the kitten. It did not seem overly bothered by the change. Jaskier moved to stroke its back. It looked content. Very gently, Jaskier brought a hand under its ribcage and picked it up, moving his other hand to support its hind legs and then cradling it against his chest. It mewled confusedly and squirmed a little, looking up at him, but he kept stroking it and it settled within a few moments.

He could feel its tiny chest rise and fall against his hands as it breathed. Its fur was slightly matted in places and it could probably have used a bath, but at that moment, Jaskier could not have imagined something softer or more pleasant to touch. It closed its eyes. Jaskier felt his heart melt a little more at the trust it was showing him.

He glanced up at Geralt and Yennefer to see them still on the other side of the room, looking at him with something that looked startlingly like awe.

“You can come over here,” he said instead of giving in to the flustered feelings trying to overwhelm him. “No need to cower.”

“I don’t want to scare it,” said Geralt, and Jaskier’s heart broke a little.

“You won’t scare him,” he said.

“Him?” asked Yennefer, raising an eyebrow.

Jaskier shrugged. “I’ve decided it’s a he. Orange cats usually are, I think.”

“How do you know I won’t scare him?” asked Geralt, returning them to the original topic.

“He can probably smell you perfectly well from here. If he was going to be scared, he already would be.”

Geralt hesitated. “I don’t know how to act around cats.”

“That’s okay. I’ll show you.” When Geralt still hesitated, Jaskier looked to Yennefer. “Come on. What are you waiting for?”

Yennefer frowned at him. “I’m not scared. I just don’t want to get fleas.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes. “I’m sure you can magic away fleas as easily as blinking. Get over here.”

After a quickly-hidden second of trepidation, Yennefer stepped forward. She looked at the kitten. The kitten, after a moment, looked at her.

“Mew?” he said.

Yennefer looked back at Jaskier, seeming uncharacteristically uncertain. Jaskier had to hold back a laugh.

“Come on,” he said. “Pet him.”

Slowly, Yennefer reached out to stroke a hand over his head. He blinked up at her, rather bemused.

“Keep going,” Jaskier said encouragingly.

Yennefer continued to stroke the kitten, first his head and then his back. Within a few moments, he settled and closed his eyes. He looked very content. Yennefer stared down at him with shock and a tiny bit of delight.

Jaskier decided that it was time for her to ascend to the next level.

“Here,” he said, and handed the kitten to her.

Jaskier had seen Yennefer achieve feats of unimaginable bravery. He had seen her fight her worst fears with determination, seen her battle hordes of monsters that might have made even the most skilled of witchers hesitate, seen her face down armies without flinching. Yennefer was brave. She was powerful. She was, in a word, incredible.

She was also looking down at the kitten he had just placed in her hands with an expression that could only be described as terror.

“I don’t know how—” she started to say, then cut herself off with a panicked gasp when she had to fumble with the squirming kitten to keep him from falling. He mewled indignantly.

“It’s okay,” said Jaskier, reaching forward to help. “I’ll show you. Here, you put your hand where it’ll support his weight, under the ribcage is good. Yes, just like that. Now you— yes! You’ve got it.”

Yennefer ended up sitting on the bed beside Jaskier, carefully cradling the kitten to her chest with both hands. The kitten was rather disgruntled by the whole affair, at first, but when Jaskier gently encouraged Yennefer to free a hand and continue stroking him, he settled down. He snuggled into Yennefer’s arm. After a few moments, his eyes slipped closed.

Yennefer’s eyes widened. She swallowed.

“Is he sleeping?” she asked hesitantly, her voice so soft it was almost a whisper.

“Yeah,” said Jaskier, feeling a grin spread across his face. “He’s taking a nap.”

“Oh,” she said softly.

She sat there for a long moment, quietly stroking the kitten. She seemed unable to tear her gaze away from the tiny, fluffy body in her arms. Jaskier found himself unable to tear his gaze away from her. She pet the kitten so gently that it was almost painful to watch, care and tenderness written into her every movement. Her expression could only be described as awe. In that moment, Jaskier was unable to think of anything that could possibly be more beautiful.

After a few long minutes, she looked up. Geralt was still standing against the far wall of the room, watching the little group on the bed with what appeared to be a mixture of fondness and longing. Yennefer took one look at his expression and sighed.

“Get over here,” she said. Jaskier nodded. Geralt, after a moment’s hesitation, obeyed.

His approach was slow and silent. When he came within a few paces, the kitten stirred, looking up at him with his ears slightly flattened. Geralt froze. Jaskier hushed him and scratched him under the chin, while Yennefer kept her hand resting on its back. That seemed to do the trick. The kitten settled back down into Yennefer’s arms. Jaskier gestured Geralt closer, and at his behest, the witcher sat down cautiously on Yennefer’s other side.

The kitten was still awake and watching Geralt with a little bit of wariness, but he did not seem overly bothered by the witcher’s presence. Jaskier internally cheered.

“You can pet him,” he whispered to Geralt.

“I don’t want to scare him,” Geralt said again.

“You won’t. Yennefer and I will help.”

A little bit of Yennefer’s uncertainty returned. “I can try, but—”

Jaskier waved her off. “Nonsense. He already likes you. Go ahead, Geralt.”

Geralt hesitated. “But—”

Jaskier rolled his eyes. “You can make fun of me if I’m wrong. I take responsibility for any and all kitten-related disasters. Go ahead.”

Geralt huffed, amused. Jaskier hid his smile by looking down at the kitten.

Slowly, Geralt crouched down so his head was more or less level with the kitten. He swallowed, reached out, and gently ran his head down the kitten’s neck and back.

“Mew?” said the kitten. He looked up at Geralt. He blinked.

“Keep going,” said Jaskier softly.

Geralt stroked the kitten again. When he did not panic or run away, Geralt did it again.

“He’s soft,” he whispered, entranced.

“Yeah,” said Yennefer, her voice equally quiet.

They both stared down at the kitten, who was content in Yennefer’s arms as Geralt stroked him. The kitten looked very small and helpless beneath Geralt’s big hands, but did not seem particularly bothered by that fact. Jaskier felt himself growing a little teary-eyed at the sight.

“Do you want to hold him?” Yennefer asked after a few moments.

Geralt’s eyes went wide. He glanced at Jaskier, nervous. “Do you think I can?”

“I do,” said Jaskier. “He already likes you, see?”

He gestured at the kitten, who was meowing in quiet protest at the fact that Geralt was no longer petting him. Geralt looked back at him. His face softened.

“I suppose,” he said. He looked up at Yennefer, then back at Jaskier. “Will you help me?”

Yennefer nodded.

“Of course,” said Jaskier. “Here, Yen, you can hand him to Geralt just like how you picked him up. Just support his weight— yeah, there you go. Geralt, you do the same thing.”

After a few moments of fumbling and a few disgruntled mewls from the kitten, Yennefer managed to deposit him in Geralt’s hands. Jaskier had been correct; he could have sat on just one of Geralt’s hands without too much trouble. Geralt was carefully cupping him with both of his anyway. The sight made Jaskier struggle not to dissolve into an unhelpful puddle of affection.

“What now?” asked Geralt, sounding almost as nervous as he had when Ciri first asked him to help her with her hair.

“You can put him in your lap, if you want,” said Jaskier. “You might want to get comfortable, though. Cats don’t always like to move once they have a nice person to sit on.”

After glancing at the bed consideringly, Yennefer crawled up to lean against the rather rickety headboard and patted the spot beside her. “Come on. I think we can all fit.”

Jaskier scooted up to sit near her, leaving space for Geralt between them. Geralt glanced up at them, then down at the kitten in his hands. The kitten had started to nibble on one of his fingers. After a moment of consideration, Geralt cautiously got to his knees on the bed and hobbled over to them, being careful to keep the kitten from being jostled. He settled in between Jaskier and Yennefer and set the kitten gently in his lap. The kitten flailed a little at the new position, but it took only a few moments for him to settle on one of Geralt’s thighs.

“Keep petting him,” Jaskier said encouragingly.

Geralt obeyed. On his other side, Jaskier saw Yennefer resting her head on Geralt’s shoulder and looking down at the kitten. For several moments, the three of them sat in content silence. Then—

“It’s vibrating,” said Geralt, sounding adorably terrified.

“Oh!” said Jaskier, delighted. Now that he was paying attention, he could hear the faintest of rumbling sounds from the kitten. “He’s purring, Geralt. That means he feels safe and content. He’s happy.”

“Oh,” said Geralt. His voice was filled with awe.

“We made him do that?” asked Yennefer. She spoke softly, as though trying not to interrupt the kitten’s purrs.

“Yeah,” said Jaskier, matching her tone, “We did.”

Yennefer smiled. It was not an expression of triumph or of power, not assured or sarcastic. It was not the smile she liked to show to the world. It was small and soft, tender and a little uncertain. It was directed at a small ball of orange fluff lounging in a witcher’s lap. Jaskier knew at that moment that no song he could write would come close to describing her beauty.

“I wonder where his family is,” Yennefer mused after a long few moments of content silence. “He can’t have gotten here all by himself, can he?”

“We can ask the innkeeper tomorrow,” said Jaskier. “Looks like he’s alone at the moment, though.”

“He isn’t,” said Geralt.

Jaskier blinked. “Please don’t tell me there are more cats hiding under the bed and you didn’t tell us, Geralt.”

“No.” Geralt looked rather embarrassed. “I just meant… we’re here. So he isn’t alone.”

Jaskier gave the kitten a thoughtful look. “I suppose that’s true.”

Yennefer looked back and forth between Jaskier. A small frown appeared on her face.

“He might have a family,” she said. “You can’t just take him.”

“I wasn’t going to!” Jaskier protested. “I just think he can stay with us tonight, is all.”

Yennefer looked at him skeptically. “That’s what you said when we found you trying to hide a baby griffin in your backpack.”

“That was one time—”

“It was extremely memorable and also idiotic. I am not letting you live it down anytime soon.”

Geralt casually removed one hand from the kitten to cover Jaskier’s mouth, muffling his indignant response and reducing his words to spluttering. Yennefer giggled at the sight, and Jaskier felt the fight drain out of him at the sound. Sensing his surrender, Geralt removed his hand and started to pet the kitten again before it could stop purring.

“The griffin thing was stupid, but this isn’t a griffin,” Geralt said diplomatically. “I think he can stay the night if he wants to.”

Yennefer subsided. “I don’t see why not.”

The kitten mewled a little. The three of them glanced down to see him resettling himself on Geralt’s legs, apparently having decided that he could make himself more comfortable than he already had.

“We’re going to have to move him eventually,” said Yennefer reluctantly. “We need to sleep somehow.”

Jaskier considered that for a few moments. “Maybe we can put him on one of the pillows. As long as no one rolls over in their sleep, he should be all right.”

Geralt looked doubtfully at the bed. The three them of sitting side by side were already rather squished.

Jaskier rolled his eyes in Geralt’s direction. “I don’t see you offering any better ideas.”

“I think we can make it work,” said Yennefer. “We’ve slept in smaller places.”

“All right,” said Geralt.

“I suppose we should lie down, then,” said Jaskier. Though he was reluctant to break the moment, he was still sleepy and knew that they needed to rest if they wanted to get anything done the next day.

After a few moments of shuffling and some rather disgruntled sounds from the kitten, they managed to get settled in a way that was comfortable for everyone. Geralt was on his side with an arm thrown over Jaskier’s waist. Jaskier was on his back so that Yennefer could lie half on top of him in the way she sometimes preferred. The kitten was curled up on a pillow behind Yennefer’s head. Jaskier’s arm was around Yennefer’s shoulders to keep her from rolling over in the night and crushing the kitten. 

Yennefer was warm and heavy on top of Jaskier. Geralt’s breathing was slow against his side. Jaskier drifted off within moments, feeling safe, loved, and content.

  ~

  The next morning, Jaskier was awakened by tiny and very sharp claws kneading directly on his bladder.

He yelped and flailed, trying to sit up. He was not very successful. This was mostly due to the fact that his right arm was trapped under a warm body and there was a thigh pinning his legs down. The kneading continued. Jaskier squirmed again, more frantically. He tried to free his arm to remove the pressure on his bladder, but—

Yennefer yelped as she went tumbling off the bed and thumped onto the floor.

Geralt sat up like a shot, looking around frantically and reaching for a sword on his back that was not there. Jaskier, now free, wasted no time in sitting up and gently but firmly removing the kitten from his person.

Geralt glanced between Jaskier, the kitten, and Yennefer, who had managed to sit up enough for her head to poke up above the edge of bed.

“...What?” asked Geralt weakly.

“Yeah, Jaskier, what the fuck?” asked Yennefer.

She clambered back onto the bed, giving Jaskier her most ferocious glare. The effect was slightly ruined by her spectacular bedhead.

Jaskier gestured emphatically with the kitten in his hands. “This fucker was poking me!”

Geralt frowned. “Why did that mean Yen had to fall out of the bed?”

“She was trapping my arm. I was desperate. Sorry, Yen.”

Yennefer glared at him. “I could turn you into a toad.”

“Listen, if I hadn’t removed him from my bladder we would have had a much worse situation on our hands.”

Yennefer looked at Jaskier’s apologetic face. She looked at Geralt’s expression of confusion and fond exasperation. She looked at the kitten, who looked distinctly unrepentant.

Unable to help herself, she dissolved into giggles. Jaskier was rather alarmed for a moment — had she just come up with a magnificent punishment for him? His face must have done something interesting, because Yennefer looked at him and started to laugh even harder. Behind Jaskier, Geralt chuckled a little as well.

“How did he even get to your stomach?” he asked. “He would have had to crawl over Yen’s head without waking her.”

Jaskier looked thoughtfully at the kitten. “He’s a master of stealth, I suppose.”

That sent Yennefer off into another round of laughter. Jaskier found himself unable to keep from joining her with his own helpless giggles.

Geralt looked between the two of them and shook his head fondly.

“I’m going to get us breakfast,” he said, leaving them to their merriment.

Jaskier and Yennefer had caught their breath and mostly regained their composure by the time Geralt returned with some food. Yennefer had the kitten in her lap and was petting him absently. He looked very happy with himself.

“I asked the innkeeper about him,” said Geralt, gesturing to the kitten with the hand that was not carrying their food. “She says he’s been hanging around the inn for a week or so, being fed scraps by the guests. No sign of any family, but he seems to be doing well enough. He’s healthy.”

“Is the innkeeper fine with him being here?” asked Yennefer.

“She doesn’t mind him as long as the guests are happy and he keeps some mice away, but she’s had some complaints about him sleeping on beds. She might have to find a way to get rid of him if he doesn’t stop.”

Jaskier looked down at the kitten, pensive. “I hope she doesn’t have to. It would be a shame to keep him away from people if he likes them.”

Yennefer patted Jaskier’s shoulder. “I’m sure he’ll be all right.”

Yennefer reached for the bread that Geralt was carrying and began to eat. Geralt passed another portion to Jaskier. The three of them munched their food contemplatively, looking at the kitten.

“I feel like we should name him,” mused Jaskier. “Calling him ‘the kitten’ in my head is starting to get weird. I need something to shout when I’m reprimanding him.”

“What do you want to call him, then?” asked Yennefer.

“I don’t know! What do you think?”

They sat quietly for a few minutes, the silence only broken by the kitten’s purrs.

“Well,” said Geralt when no one offered any ideas, “There’s always Ro—“

“No!” shouted Jaskier and Yennefer simultaneously.

Yennefer smacked Geralt’s shoulder. “Not Roach. You can name all the horses you want, but I draw the line at cats.”

Jaskier nodded. “We can think of something better. I believe in us.”

Geralt subsided with a huff. There was another moment of thoughtful silence.

“Cirilla the Second?” suggested Yennefer.

Jaskier flopped back down onto the bed, buried his face in a pillow, and groaned loudly. “I loathe you both.”

“I don’t see you having any better ideas,” Yennefer protested. Jaskier groaned again and rolled onto his back.

“What have I done to deserve this?” he asked the ceiling.

“Is that an insult or a compliment?” asked Yennefer with a smirk.

“It can be both.”

“I’m not so sure. That would require complicated things like nuance and finesse. I am not sure a bard of your caliber could keep up. Perhaps we need someone more practiced, for instance Vald—”

“How about Mackerel?” Geralt said loudly and rather desperately, cutting Yennefer off before disaster could strike.

Jaskier and Yennefer both fell silent. They looked at Geralt. They looked at the kitten. They looked back at Geralt.

“Is your entire repertoire of names made up of fish?” asked Yennefer, and Jaskier burst into laughter.

Geralt looked on with some disgruntlement as Jaskier’s guffaws slowly faded into giggles.

“What?” he asked. “It’s a decent name.”

Yennefer rolled her eyes. “Retrospectively, I’m grateful you didn’t go back to claim Ciri when she was young. The poor girl would have ended up saddled with the name Perch.”

“You are an idiot,” said Jaskier to Geralt. “An utter and complete moron. I love you.”

“Hmm,” Geralt said, flustered.

“Do you have any better names, Jaskier?” asked Yennefer.

“Absolutely not. Mackerel is hilarious. We’re keeping it.”

Yennefer sighed but failed to hide her smile. “Oh, fine.”

They finished their breakfast in companionable silence. When they were finished, they sat on the bed for a while longer. It was comfortable, after all, and they were in no particular hurry. Jaskier determinedly did not think about any other reasons he might have for not wanting to leave the inn.

“We can’t stay here forever,” Geralt said eventually, reluctant.

Yennefer sighed. “Yeah, we’ll have to get going if we want to meet Ciri and Geralt’s idiot brothers in time.”

Jaskier hauled himself to his feet.

“Let’s get to it, then!” he said with false cheer.

With practiced ease, they packed up their things. They were ready to leave within minutes.

They did not leave.

The three of them dithered in the room. Geralt gazed out the window. Yennefer checked corners for anything they might have somehow lost. Jaskier fidgeted with his notebook.

“Well,” said Yennefer, “I suppose it’s time to go.”

She went to stand in the doorway. Geralt and Jaskier joined her.

None of them moved.

They looked back at the kitten, who was once again on the bed. Mackerel looked back at them. He meowed.

Yennefer heaved a deep, longsuffering sigh. “We’re taking him with us, aren’t we?”

Geralt sighed. “We might.”

Jaskier whooped so loudly that it startled Mackerel. He darted back to the bed and scooped the kitten up in his arms. Mackerel mewled in complaint.

Jaskier stroked his head in apology. “Sorry for startling you, darling, but you’ll be much happier about it soon. You’re coming with us! You’ll get to see the continent. You’ll get to experience all sorts of varied and delightful table scraps. It’ll be lovely.”

Across the room, Jaskier heard Yennefer trying to stifle a laugh. He ignored her.

“You’ll get to meet so many people,” he said to Mackerel. “You’ll get to explore the world. You can meet our family, too—”

Jaskier cut himself off with a gasp and turned to Geralt and Yennefer, his eyes shining. “Ciri is going to love him!”

“Oh,” said Yennefer with a grin. “Oh, she really will. This is going to be great.”

Jaskier nodded enthusiastically. “This is going to be the best decision we’ve ever made, I can feel it.”

“What do kittens eat?” Geralt asked reasonably, looking rather exasperated at their antics. “We can’t just let him starve.”

“We’ll figure it out,” said Jaskier. “He can’t be that hard to feed.”

Yennefer nodded. “He’s been living off scraps and what he can catch so far. I’m sure he’ll be all right.”

“It’ll be dangerous on the path,” said Geralt.

Jaskier scoffed. “Mackerel is a smart cat. He can take care of himself.”

Geralt looked as though he might protest again, but at that moment, Mackerel meowed. Geralt looked down at the tiny ball of fur in Jaskier’s arms. Jaskier saw the exact moment Geralt’s last arguments drained away in the face of the adorable creature in front of him.

“I suppose he can come,” said Geralt with a sigh.

Jaskier whooped again. Mackerel meowed. Yennefer laughed. Geralt, seemingly despite himself, smiled.

The three of them shouldered their packs, Jaskier passing Mackerel to Geralt to free his hands. They left their room. On their way out of the inn, Yennefer stopped to let the innkeeper know they were taking Mackerel while Geralt retrieved Roach from the stables. The innkeeper seemed happy enough with the idea and waved at them with a smile as they left. 

They set off on the Path, with Geralt leading Roach and Yennefer and Jaskier walking beside him. It was just like any other day in the last week — except this time, there was a tiny orange head poking out of one of Roach’s saddlebags, and Yennefer was having a hard time suppressing a smile. Even Geralt looked visibly content. 

Jaskier’s lovers were happy. They had, somehow, despite everything, adopted a cat. Despite Yennefer and Geralt’s persistent issues with attachment and commitment, they had agreed to take a kitten with them on their travels for no reason other than sentiment and sympathy. Jaskier was so very proud of them. 

Stopping at that inn was the best decision they ever made. 

[some-october-in-the-future]

Geraskier Fic Rec May 2023

Hello lovely people! I've decided to start my fic rec lists with some Witcher fic focusing on Geralt/Jaskier (Geraskier). I started reading Geraskier fic about three years ago and I'll probably never get tired of this pairing. The below list are some of my favorite fics I've stumbled upon throughout my time in the fandom - I hope you enjoy them! If there are any you think should be added (or you just have good recs) please feel free to send them my way, I'm always looking for new fic! And if you decide to read any of these, please heed the tags on ao3; some deal with topics not everyone wants to read about.

(The first two are probably my favorite Geraskier fics ever)

(if you like any of these let me know let's geek out together)

A Blessing, A Curse by aileenrose, E, 12.6k

"For a while, Jaskier doesn’t know he’s cursed. It feels like free will, going back down that mountain, just as dangerous down as the way up, and alone this time, too. The descent is fast, maybe even reckless, but Jaskier’s feeling numb and out-of-sorts anyways, Geralt’s words simmering in his mind, and at the time it doesn’t feel like he’s being pulled on by anything but his own desire to get away."

Based off a post that Geralt's words on the mountain are granted by the djinn.

one foot in sea by theundiagnosable, E, 23.5k

“Well, that’s a separate issue entirely, isn’t it?” Jaskier says, clearly enthused by being taken on. “I’m opposed to marriage on principle. Would you like to know why?”

“No,” says Geralt.

“I’ll tell you why,” says Jaskier.

to render it transparent by theundiagnosable, E, 24k

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

another dawn by alittlebitmaybe, T, 8k

“Well, we’ll have all the time in the world to make it official, right after we check out this—what was it?”

Geralt side eyes him. “Abandoned cottage. Disappearances. Strange sightings.”

“Right, yes, after we deal with this mysterious hut deep in the woods. No problem. Days and weeks and years aplenty after that."

all that was good, all that was fair (all that was me is gone) by xdandelionxbloomx, M, 7.5k

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

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

Shadowplay by sospes, M, 26.5k

Geralt returns to Oxenfurt on a bright May morning to find flowers laid outside Jaskier's rooms and a fresh grave in the cemetery.

Except, as Geralt is about to learn, in Jaskier's world things are never quite what they seem.

Bad Moon Rising by sharkhette, Not Rated, 9k

Jaskier had never expected it would be Geralt trying to kill him. Sure, the witcher liked to threaten as much, but they both knew he'd never make good on it. They were friends, whatever Geralt said.

But friends didn't try to rip each other's throats out with their teeth.

Or, Geralt returns from a hunt acting strange.

Valley of Plenty by aileenrose, E, 40.6k

Geralt's brother has died, and now he is raising a child on his own. The last thing he needs is an annoying sous-chef who won't leave him alone.

Or, a variously loose and faithful adaptation of the classic rom-com No Reservations.

The god of scraped knees. by spqr, M, 8k

Jaskier’s been pretending to be human for so long now that he hardly remembers what it feels like to be a sorcerer. He doesn’t want to remember what it feels like to be a sorcerer. But people still murmur his name with reverence in certain dim halls; Dandelion, Dandelion, destroyer of worlds. 

Lessons in Losing by didoandis, E, 11k

“We met five years ago or thereabouts,” Geralt says through gritted teeth. “You came up to me in a tavern near Posada, decided I would be good song material, and we’ve travelled together, off and on, ever since.”

“Huh,” Jaskier says.

“You remember?” Geralt tries to keep the note of hope out of his voice, and doubts he’s been successful.

“Not in the slightest,” Jaskier says cheerfully. “But I must admit it sounds like something I’d do.”

When Jaskier forgets their life together, Geralt learns an unexpected lesson.

[kewpifinchi]

little scene bun thought of for a witcher rendition shy wants to write . . . bun plans on calling it "the witcher: wine & white jasmine" or wwawj for short ( maybe )

it was only then when atop his horse he felt a pair of eyes scanning his presence, a pair of eyes that not only surveyed his stature with vigorous intensity, but had done so for half the journey. "i can feel you staring at me, bard." geralt muttered. as much as jaskier wanted to deny his obvious and persistent leering, his mind and pride would not stoop so low as to ditch the dramatics, for his fear of mediocrity had been all the more powerful for the better half of his life. "how could one not notice such a grandiose figure, o white wolf of mine? is it so wrong to admire one's benevolent savior after such a high stakes battle of wit and coordination?" he chimed. geralt let out a hearty and exhausted sigh. "i saved you from a drunken bar fight, jaskier. not a dragon." jaskier chuckled to himself and closed the distance between him and geralt. "oh lighten up! seriously, does your witcher way of life prevent you from having the tiniest bit of fun?" jaskier said, only to be met with a frustrated grunt. geralt hadn't wanted to admit it, but he found the bard's musings amusing, and despite him finding them utterly pointless when not intertwined in a hero's ballad, he found their tantalizing wording and literary competence alluring, and perhaps rather interesting depending on whether or not he wanted to stroke the bard's already monumental ego. "i swear, your ramblings make my head hurt." jaskier scoffed. "are you sure it's me and not that stew you had at the tavern? i distinctly remember telling you that that pork wasn't properly cooked, but what do i know? i'm just the bard." he sneered. geralt found this sudden tone shift peculiar. was jaskier actually mad? or was an act? "you cannot seriously still be hung up on that?" geralt teased. "mock me if you must but melitele be damned, when you're resting at an inn with some sort of foodbourne curse of the stomach, if you think i'll be sympathetic you're sorely mistaken, you insufferable ignoramus!" geralt nearly burst out laughing at this sudden poetic and linguistic outburst. "catty, aren't we, bard?" he chuckled. "up yours." alright, he's definitely not playing. "what's gotten into you?" geralt asked. "nothing." he said through gritted teeth and tense jaw. geralt halts roach and dismounts. "jaskier." he urged firmly, looking jaskier in the eye so the genuine tone would sink in faster, at least that's what he wanted to happen. "i...it's just that you never want to hear me talk. everytime i open my mouth you swear it's equivalent to nails on a chalkboard. you would be upset too if i had such high destain for your voice." sad truth is he wouldn't, but he'd never let jaskier know that. "it's like you said bard. it's just a joke. i've slain monsters who reigned for centuries and you honestly think that i'd let such a scrawny bard tag alongside me if i hated him that much?" jaskier scowled. "watch it." geralt sighed and climbed aboard his steed once more. "you know what i mean, jaskier. i don't hate you, not in the slightest. my jokes aren't that good. i'm sorry." he grumbled. sorry? has the world been flipped upside down? never in his life had jaskier heard geralt say anything remotely similar to sorry. "it's...it's fine, geralt." geralt had apologized, and everything really was fine. perhaps all jaskier ever needed was a sorry. yes, a sorry would make all the difference. sorry will do.

[eomereadig]

Snippet: Fucked Dumb

Fandom: The Witcher

Pairing: Jaskier/Lambert

Rating: E

Tags: dumbification, dom!Jaskier, sub!Lambert, handjobs, power play, dom/sub dynamics, degradation, humiliation, subspace

Full fic now avaliable here

Lambert’s eyes were beginning to droop, relaxed as he was, practically drooling against Jaskier’s chest as the bard stroked up and down his back soothingly. They were wrapped up in each other atop their shared bed, a little nest of blankets surrounding them to keep out the chill. With one leg already thrown over Jaskier’s, Lambert burrowed closer to the bard’s side, pressed as tight as possible against the other. As Jaskier hummed a tune to himself, no doubt working on a melody for a future song, Lambert slipped into a state that was almost the same as mediation. 

The two of them had already been there a while but Jaskier showed no signs of boredom, content to have Lambert in his arms and watch the setting sun from the window. The witcher’s head felt as if it were full of cotton, nothing but the words ‘safe’, ‘warm’ and ‘love’ floating through his mind. Lambert wriggled contentedly. 

Gods, he loved Jaskier so much it hurt. Even just a year ago, he never would have imagined one day ending up where he was then - lazing about on Jaskier’s chest without a care in the world, completely open and vulnerable. The fact that Jaskier had managed to get him to that state was a feat in itself. He’d been uncommonly patient and thick skinned with Lambert, even after the two of them had finally fucked for the first time. It’d taken longer than either of them cared to admit for Lambert to open himself completely, but now that he had, he was glad for it. He cursed his own stubbornness when he remembered that he could have been there, in Jaskier’s arms, months - if not years ago. 

Jaskier shifted, stretching out a leg and signing contentedly when the joint popped. As he did so, his hip brushed Lambert’s erection where it was pressed against him, trapped between his clothes. Jaskier froze but didn’t become tense, and Lambert opened his eyes blearily from where they’d slipped closed. 

“Are you hard?”

His tone sounded a little accusatory but it was light enough that Lambert didn’t think he was in trouble. The witcher moved his hips a little. ‘Yep, definitely hard.’ He thought. Lambert hadn’t even noticed until Jaskier pointed it out to him, as safe and relaxed as he’d been feeling curled up against Jaskier’s side. He guessed it was the warmth and contact that had made him start to fill out, each and every one of his numerous walls lowered in Jaskier’s company. 

“Yeah… I guess I am…” He breathed. Jaskier snorted at that. 

Full fic now avaliable here

[avengetheangels]

The (Family) Doctor's Appointment by smleeish (DC, Gen) Jason gets sick when he's dosed with a poisonous drug during a case and grudgingly goes to a walk-in clinic to see the doctor. Waiting for hours in the crowded clinic is torture with its bothersome occupants, and especially when the family catches wind of his ordeal and decide to try and convince him to let them take care of him.

A Winter's Tale by NorthernSparrow (Supernatural, Gen) Cas is sick and Dean finds a journal that Cas kept about his time alone as a human.

This fic is a retelling of first half of S9 from Cas's POV (via Cas's journal). Lots of Cas angst/loneliness and a correspondingly equal volume of Dean guilt. Sick fic, hurt/comfort, journal fic, and a Christmas fic too.

Tristeza by ViolentlyRed (My Hero Academia, Gen) "Through the lenses of three AM, Bakugou looks a lot smaller in the streetlight of a hospital parking lot."

Or, Aizawa comes to a few conclusions in the span and the aftermath of one long, stressful night.

(Bakugou is hurt and sick and Aizawa is robbed of his sleep and his sanity, yet again)

And Rebuked the Fever by ratherastory (Leverage, Gen) As it is, he could have wished for another six hours' respite, maybe twelve, but it's not like he has a say in the matter: these episodes always come at him like a goddamn tsunami, and all he can really do is put his head down and ride it out. Or, Eliot is sick and the team takes care of him.

Before I Stumble Homeward by lacking (The Hobbit, Thorin/Bilbo) In which Thorin is left slightly more injured after his confrontation with Azog. The fever sets in, the journey continues on, and a bond is formed.

you're on my mind (more than you know) by veterization (Teen Wolf, Stiles/Peter) Stiles is sick with a cold. Peter sticks around.

The Place That Is Ours by Hyena_Poison (The Walking Dead, Gen) Daryl wears himself out trying to show the group just how useful he is. If he doesn't, he fears the group will get rid of him.

bundle by PenAndInkPrincess (The Witcher, Jaskier/Geralt) There is one element of his time at Kaer Morhen that remains a problem, however: his room is fucking freezing.

Jaskier sets his teeth and wraps his arms tighter around himself, curling inwards as if that’ll provide him with more warmth. He’s already beneath every layer he’s been able to gather, wrapped into a ball of sheets and blankets and furs. He’s even pulled on two pairs of thick wool socks borrowed from Kaer Morhen’s stores, but he can still feel the tingle of chill in his toes. He tries to think of warm things: hot toddies, mulled wine, summer sunshine, sharing beds with-

He cuts himself off.

(Jaskier is settling into Kaer Morhen, but he has a persistent problem: he's freezing in his room at night. unfortunately, he's also terrified of fire)

Bruise Easily, Bad in the Blood by siriuspiggyback (The Umbrella Academy, Gen) His chest aches with the force of his heart beating, and he gasps for air like a drowning man. At Ben's urging, barely audible over the ringing of his ears, he sits and puts his head between his knees. He feels like he might be floating, or rocking; the sensation is unsettling close to being blackout drunk.

After a long minute, he falls back down to earth.

Ben admits, "I don't think that was a panic attack."

"Told you so," Klaus whines weakly, too exhausted for true smugness.

A Beautiful Antibiosis by Holo (Nelioe) (Jujutsu Kaisen, Gojo/Getou) antibiosis (noun)

an association between two organisms that is harmful to one of them.

During a negligent moment Satoru is infected with a parasitic curse without his knowledge. The curse, weak in the beginning, begins to feed on his cursed energy, weakening Gojo’s constitution day by day. There it lies, in waiting, until it becomes powerful enough to leave its host and devour everything in its proximity.

Let the morning chase my ghosts away by Whistler_Ren (One Piece, Gen) Sunny? Sanji racked his brain, searching desperately for something to connect with that name. Slowly, through the haze, he caught glimpses of grass, a homey kitchen and tangerine trees. He could picture sails and a grinning flag with a straw hat. Could hear the trill of a violin, bubbling laughter and swords being sharpened and polished. Could smell sweet perfume, meat and ocean. A ship. Sunny.

“Home…” he whispered.

---

When Sanji contracts a dangerous illness, memories of past trauma are brought closer to the surface than he ever wished for. Thankfully, his crew has no plans of letting him weather the storm alone.

[astaldis]

Nauseous - Creatures of the Night

@whumpers-monthly​

Fandom: The Witcher TV, The Witcher novels

Whumpee: Cahir

Caretaker: Jaskier

Published: 2022-10-0; Completed: 2022-11-11; Words: 22,898; Chapters: 14/14 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences; Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply; Categories: F/M; M/M; MultiF/F 

Summary: While Geralt's Hanza is staying in Beauclair, the famous fall event is coming up. An event the Witcher cannot refuse to take part in, even though he does have to dress up for it. However, not everything goes as planned and the members of the Hanza are in for some surprises. Blame it on the grape punch. Or is it the bard's fault after all?Written for the Witcher Trick or Treat 2022.

Relationships: Geralt of Rivia/Fringilla Vigo;  Anarietta/Jaskier; Angoulême & Anna Henrietta; Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach & Jaskier; Milva & Fringilla Vigo; Geralt of Rivia & Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy; Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach/Jaskier; Geralt of Rivia/Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy

Excerpt from Chapter 12 - Too perfect masquerades and mismatched mates

Fuck. His head hurts like seven hells. No, seventeen. At least. Like caught between hammer and anvil with the most powerful Mahakam dwarf wielding the enormous iron tool. Every few seconds causing a crashing boom to explode in his woozy brain. Like the reverberating roll of thunder directly next to his eardrums. Perhaps it is the clap of thunder and not just a figment of his imagination? There were no clouds last he checked but a perfectly clear, dark velvet sky dotted with a million stars and an unusually big and round silver moon. Perfect weather for Toussaint's famous fall masquerade. However, he feels wet. Very wet actually. In between the echoing booms he believes he can hear the patter of water, too. A sudden deluge? Which he was too deeply asleep to even notice? His eyelids are far too heavy to open just yet to check, though. Damn, has he really drunk that much? He remembers a few glasses of freshly made wine and then there was this delicious grape punch ... He must indeed have had a cup too many as he can hardly remember anything else. Or two cups. Three. He moans softly and tries to sit up but immediately lies back down again, this time with a much louder groan, his head spinning and his stomach doing somersaults. Gods, now would be the perfect time for Geralt to kill him ... He groans again. Then, with an effort he forces his sluggish brain to process a few more of the incoming sensory signals from his surroundings. He stiffens. Shit! The perception processed by the few brain cells that are actually working is rather disturbing. Besides feeling cold and wet and - naked??? - he realises that the booming sound is neither in his head nor the roll of thunder but somebody snoring straight into his ear. Darn, there is a hand on his chest, too, that definitely does not belong to him. And another one in a place that is far too indecent to even mention. Cahir racks his brain who the mysterious woman could be that snores like a hog and seems to be lying right next to him. Very closely next to him. Extremely closely next to him. A woman who seems to be as completely naked and wet as he is. However, no matter how much he strains his muddled memory, his mind is totally blank. Not the faintest of faint ideas as to her identity. Fuck. Cursing colourfully in both the common speech and Nilfgaardian - inwardly, mind, as his tongue is much too heavy and his throat far too parched to utter any sound besides a soft groan - Cahir vows to himself - and on the heron as Toissaintois tradition demands - never to drink any alcohol ever again. Then, as in his current situation this is as helpful as shutting the stable doors after the horse has escaped, and wild guesses will not avail to anything either, he decides that there is no way around it - he has to open his eyes.

Very slowly and carefully, Cahir blinks his eyes open. And immediately closes them again. The light is terrifyingly bright. Well, no use moaning, it has to be done if he ever wants to find out where he is and with who. Preferably before this obscure female starts to wake up. Which would give him the chance to run, if necessary. If he can get his legs to work. A very big if. Another soft groan escapes his lips. How he wishes he could just open a portal and get out of here. Preferably to a dark and quiet and dry place with lots of extra soft cushions and warm, fluffy blankets. Where is a bloody sorceress when you really need one? On the other hand, Cahir would definitely not want Fringilla or any other sorceress or, come to think of it, any other person - or non-person - at all to see him like this. Including the person next to him. Shading his eyes with his dripping wet fingers he tries once more to lift his heavy lids. And catches a vague glimpse of the hand on his chest. Slowly it comes into focus. A pretty big and somewhat hairy hand. Gods, who is this woman? And how on earth have they ended up together like this? Stark naked - in a huge puddle of rain? They haven't ...? Gods, please, no. He shudders at the thought. Shit, shit, shit. Maybe it is just a costume, not the unknown lady's real hand?

Suddenly the lady starts to stir. Water splashes around them as she drapes her not only somewhat but decidedly hairy leg over his and moves her lips even closer to his ear.

"Mm, you are truly magnificent, my dear heart," a drowsy voice half-whispers into his ear. A voice Cahir knows. And it is definitely not the one of a woman.

"Jaskier?!" He jolts upright, panicking at the realisation. And at the sound of his own voice. Which is at least one octave too high. Compared to his dangerously low no-nonsense-commander-voice two octaves. Minimum. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Now he remembers. His costume. Fringilla's voice-altering potion. Gosh, what an extraordinarily stupid idea to masquerade as a woman. An idea which seems to have landed him in the hairy arms of Jaskier, the bard, of all people. In the middle of a fucking waterfall? Cahir cannot verify his first vague impression of his surroundings, though, as his stomach somersaults again and he just so manages to turn around and heave himself onto his arms and over the rim of the shallow, water-filled basin they are lying in before he starts to retch convulsively.

"Cahir?" Jaskier asks, staring at his heaving and very naked comrade incredulously, his voice thick with sleep and the last remnants of inebriation. "What the fuck?" He looks around searching for clues to what has happened. "Melitele's tits!" he then exclaims. "You are her? The Countess Ava???"

Read the complete story on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41477553/chapters/105627054

[thedemonofcat]

Geralt gets turned into a little kid temporarily.

During that time, he doesn’t remember his life as an adult. Jaskier enjoys pampering the young Geralt, who swiftly develops a crush on the bard. A big crush that leads to him proposing to Jaskier.

The bard accepts, not taking the offer seriously but finding the young witcher very sweet.

What he didn’t account for though was that adult Geralt would keep the memories from revisiting his childhood.

And he treats their “engagement” as completely legitimate and serious.

The tavern pulsed with energy, a vibrant atmosphere that Jaskier thrived in. The evening had started promisingly—his music resonated with the crowd, and Geralt was no longer burdened by the child-transforming curse. However, the jovial mood took a dark turn when an intoxicated patron became overly familiar with Jaskier.

"Have another drink," the inebriated man slurred, forcefully pressing a glass of spirits against Jaskier's lips.

"I appreciate the offer, but I must decline," Jaskier replied, attempting to extricate himself from the situation. However, the drunk's grip on his waist remained unyielding.

The man persisted, his voice thick with alcohol, "Come on, we just want to see you loosen up a bit." Jaskier's eyes darted around, searching for an escape route, but before he could formulate a response, a blur of motion caught his attention.

With a resounding thud, the drunk found himself sprawled on the floor, courtesy of Geralt's powerful fist.

Geralt's voice cut through the sudden silence, low and menacing, "My fiancé told you to back off."

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 123

In place of August Eleventh, Promptapalooza 4/ If you ask Jaskier, dimensional spells were a bitch. That sorcerer was a twat! Blasting him and Geralt with his stupid cursed amulet boosting his stupid powers stupid man making his witcher all frustrated and sad! "Damn it!" Geralt snarls as they appear in a... Very small room. It's pitch black. "Don't fret, Geralt, there'll be a way out, I'm sure-" "Just- Shut up for a moment, Jaskier." "Right! Shutting up right away! Just as soon as I-" "Jaskier!" Jaskier huffs, and begins blindly feeling for some way out of the room. He feels a stick and gasps with excitement. "Oh, Geralt!" He swings the object around blindly until he hears the unmistakable sound of the bristles of a broom smacking directly into the side of Geralt's head. "Jaskier." "Sorry! Didn't mean to! Though you must admit, it's kind of humorous in it's own way-" *growling* "Alright maybe it isn't! Gods." Suddenly brightness blinds them as someone yanks the door open. "Can you damn kids stop trying to fuck in my supply closet!?" A man in weird clothing yells at them. Jaskier stammers a bit trying to think of like, any response, before Geralt just drags him out by the arm. They're in a bright building, with white walls that don't... appear to be stone or wood? And there's SO many people around. And they're all dressed... similarly to them. "Dude! Nice contacts!" A man in black with white hair says to Geralt. "I love your Jaskier outfit, did you make it yourself?" "Um no, I bought it." Jaskier says, to a man who looks remarkably like himself. "..Um, where are we?" Jaskier asks the man, and the man stares for a moment before letting out a soft chuckle. "Ohh! Yeah, it's easy to get lost. You're by the signing booths. What are you looking for? Merch? Photo-ops? Cosplay contest?" "A contest?" Jaskier asks, with excitement. "Yeah! Over who did the best cosplay of The Witcher! Are you going to enter as a Dandelion/Jaskier?" "Yes, I am!~" Geralt is desperately trying to find a way back to his own dimension, waiting for Yennefer to open a portal to find them, but it gets confusing when there's at least forty women AND MEN here dressed exactly like her. Jaskier meanwhile is busy throwing a tantrum over getting second in some contest, but Geralt is more worried for their lives, thank you very much. "SECOND PLACE! In a contest over who looks like me, I got SECOND place, Geralt!"

[camouflagedpath]

I’m reblogging this again because I’m still upset about it! I really did feel the crushing weight of heteronormativity when that cursed Vilgefortz morning-after scene came on. Like it really was a stark reminder that some people will never ever even think to consider that a woman might not need a man, let alone that she might be into women and not men. Like watching that scene just made me go wow. Whoever wrote this really has zero imagination and might also be slightly evil and deranged.

Seriously I know this is just a tv show and it's been years and it's already been discussed etc. etc. etc. but they really did Tissaia dirty. How can you look at her book character and more importantly her season 1 character and think that pairing her with a man let alone one as god-awful as Vilgefortz Manbun makes any sense at all or improves the show for anyone? Like what did that plot give us – secretly shady bad guy (somehow) gets powerful woman under his dark triad charm and tricks her for lowbrow shock value? Fuck you Netflix.

Far more sensible and subversive and interesting would have been to pair her with Rita. I mean, not only would it have been a great way to introduce Rita’s character and explain the rectoress transition and offer Tissaia some emotional reprieve by giving her a lover she didn’t have to do politics with, it totally fits as an adaptation from the book (their chemistry in the Silver Heron chapter was great!) while offering something exciting and new. But nope, instead they gave us Vilgefortz. Who Tissaia was actively suspicious of in the books and had every reason to be in the show. What the fuck, man.

Also, they made Jaskier bisexual as fanservice, right? Why couldn’t they appeal to the lesbian fans too. I’m still bitter! I will always be bitter!

it’s soooooo funny to me how 98% of tissaia fans are sapphics yet the showrunners thought pairing her with a man was a good idea

[jaskier-cult]

okay so we’ve had djinn Jaskier, but what if Geralt made a badly worded wish - or maybe he still said “i just want some damn peace!” - and the djinn was like “aight. imma head out~”

and just. turns Jaskier into the djinn, and leaves with his newfound freedom

and suddenly Jaskier is a djinn with no idea how to use his powers, and still bound to Geralt with two more wishes to grant, and now they suddenly have a super powerful sorceress (Yennefer) trailing their asses after hearing about a witcher with a djinn and now wants to steal the djinn and wishes for her own agenda, and Geralt needs to get Jaskier to safety before Yennefer and other mages try to use and trap his bard-turned-djinn

just.

think about that

i was hit with this au idea very violently after looking at something completely unrelated and from a completely different fandom, so now you have to hear about it, too

[penny-anna]

ok let’s start workshopping this!! ways they could address why Geralt is Liam Hemsworth now:

- he regenerates

- gets his face eaten by magical face eating slugs and has to get a new one

- plastic surgery

- time cut several years into the future & they try to pass off Hemsworth as an older Cavill

- Geralt has to go undercover, has someone transform his face into a different face

- have him wear a mask for the whole season

- put Hemsworth in elaborate make up to make him look like Cavill

- gets hit with curse of Hemsworth (turns u into a Hemsworth brother)

- that’s not Geralt, that’s his long lost brother, Gerald

- whole episode face/off reference

- Geralt gets killed so they transfer his consciousness into a cloned body provided by Garfield the Deals Warlock

- gets bitten by a Liam Hemsworth and transforms into one

- Geralt gets merged with an alternate version of himself from another dimension

- Geralt gets turned into a cardboard cut out and Jaskier has to reconstruct his face but he cocks it up so Geralt just has a new face now

- reveal that Geralt has actually been wearing a Henry Cavill mask this whole time & this is his real face

- witchers have shapeshifting powers but don’t use them

- Jaskier & only Jaskier keeps saying that Geralt looks kind of different, everyone else insists they have no idea what he’s talking about

- his face just does that

[shanastoryteller]

Happy holiday seasons! Something about jaskier being the equivalent of the Beyonce of the continent (geraskier, yeraskier?) Also thoughts on Liam Hemsworth as the new Geralt? Love you! <3

a continuation of 1

Yennefer is in the middle of the very important work of schmoozing her way into a baron’s good graces when Jaskier and his husband enter the ballroom.

(Geralt had irritated her the last time they’d crossed paths so she’s currently only referring to him as Jaskier’s husband to his face. He secretly loves it, but it does cause a bunch of annoying questions for him that he hates, so it’s still a net win as far as she’s concerned.)

The baron gapes. “Is that – surely it can’t be – the bard Jaskier?”

There are more excited titterings around the ballroom, everyone looking at Jaskier with the hungry gazes that she wanted them to direct towards her. Rude.

“Yennefer!” Jaskier shouts, crossing the room to her side, Geralt trailing a half step behind.

“You know him?” the baron demands incredulously.

She’s a sorceress of almost limitless power and he’s impressed because she’s crossed paths with a bard. This has to be some sort of curse.

“We were looking for you, we could use some of you help with some, um, stuff.” He darts a look back at husband then looks at her meaningfully, as if she wasn’t perfectly capable of picking up his incredibly unsubtle hint herself. Geralt just looks resigned, and a little grumpier than normal, which means he really does need help. Anything that can get a witcher – especially Geralt – looking for help can’t mean anything good.

“It’s an honor to meet you,” the baron says, shoving her to the side to grasp Jaskier’s hand and shake it eagerly. “Are you available to play? We’d love to hear you. We can pay of course, and we have accommodations for you and your companion, if you’re interested. Even just one song would be wonderful.”

They already have live music. What’s the big deal? Just because he can carry a tune doesn’t mean he warrants all this.

Jaskier is pointedly not looking at her and doing his best not to smile, which absolutely means he knows what this is doing to her and finds it hilarious. “If Lady Yennefer can be persuaded to help my companion, then I suppose I can be persuaded to play.”

The baron turns his big pleading eyes onto her, paying her more attention than he has the whole night.

She mentally denotes Jaskier to Geralt’s husband.