#geralt go hug your bard

[jaskier-more-like-saskier]

Jaskier fidgeting with his burnt finger hurts so badly

[jaskier-more-like-saskier]

THIS. This is so important. Geralt even though we haven’t heard it addressed he knows about the torture and probably blames himself and hes doing all he can to make sure Rience doesnt get his hands on Jaskier again. And Jaskier is terrified hes scared of Rience he wants to stay with Geralt where he feels safe. Geralts saying he can’t let Jaskier get hurt again because of him but Jaskier? Jaskier wants to be with Geralt even if it means facing Rience because he knows Geralt will keep him safe. Because for Jaskier even after the mountain the love and trust he has for Geralt never died.

THE WITCHER 3x02, "Unbound"

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 15

Jaskier realizes that when Geralt comes back from a hunt, pent up, eyes black, still snarling and panting like a beast, the only thing that helps is cuddling him. He hugs him, and runs his hands through Geralt's hair, and gently washes him with a rag and hushes words into his ear, and it helps bring Geralt back down. Sometimes he wakes up to Geralt coming back from a late-night hunt and immediately grabbing Jaskier's waist and yoINking him into Geralt's bedroll so they can snuggle. It's cute. And Jaskier certainly has no complaints.

Jaskier tries to ask him about it one time, but all it earns him is a "Shut up, Bard." and Geralt acting weird the rest of the day. Maybe he's embarrassed? Jaskier doesn't know why. He has no idea what the potions must feel like to Geralt, perhaps he truly needs the warmth and mass of a person in order to not want to rip his own hair out or scratch off his own skin or something else? So he's just fine with hugging his beefcake of a bestie (of whom he may be completely head over heels in love with) if it means keeping some awful ailment at bay. And he believes this for at least a decade, before he meets Geralt's brothers. Don't get him wrong, they're lovely people! But one day, an exceptionally difficult hunt calls for all three of them to go together and leave Jaskier at camp. Jaskier is a bit concerned over how he'll comfort all three of them at once, but when they come back, he finds that Geralt is suddenly ignoring him, and Lambert and Eskel are acting normal, if not just very exhausted. Jaskier pulls Lambert aside and asks him why they're not itching to hug him, and Lambert is very confused. Jaskier explains that usually Geralt needs to hold him in order to deal with the after-effects of his potions. Lambert explains that's not a normal witcher thing, and that Geralt probably just likes him, but he explains it in his own lovely lambert-y way, meaning it's mostly just laughing hysterically at his big brother catching feelings for some bratty noisemaker in silk (He likes Jaskier! It's just... Not what he saw Geralt going for.) Jaskier tries to talk to Geralt about it, but Geralt stops him from even walking close to him, and walks farther off as extra salt in the wound. It's like he can't even bear to be around Jaskier. It hurts a bit. Jaskier asks Eskel if Geralt took different potions or has a toxin of some sort i him that makes him behave like this instead of the normal, and then explains everything Lambert told him. Eskel agrees that it sounds like him just being comforted by the feeling of his mate safe and sound next to him, and that they've never seen Geralt like that. Jaskier is confused, because surely Geralt doesn't feel the same way, right? sURPRISE SECOND ATTACK! THE MONSTER RETURNS! OH NOOOOO Anyways, It slashes the shit out of Jaskier's arm, or perhaps chest, I don't know, whichever wound strikes your fancy, and the witchers go after it, but as soon as the beast is killed, Geralt rushes to Jaskier, and holds him close. The others try to walk over to help patch Jaskier up only to get growled at by their own brother. So now Lambert and Eskel are playing rock paper scissors on the ground over who REALLY got the final hit on the beast while Geralt sits 12 feet away from them, mending his bard. He growls at them if they look at Jaskier and him too long. A while later, he's off the high of the potions and adrenaline combined, and the witchers sure are going to have a field day lovingly making fun of their brother over this. But first, Jaskier and Geralt need to have a heartfelt talk. ♡!Optional addons!♡

• Big bonus points for a sequel or additional chapter of Lambert starting to act the same way over Aiden (or other ship of your choice, but Lambert and Aiden are my bread and butter lol)

[tielmamon]

They stiffle another set of giggles as Jaskier and Ciri hide behind a few trees, spying on Geralt and Yen as they navigate their complicated little partnership once again. The young warrior bites her tongue, beaming at how Jaskier pitches his voice a few octaves higher, trying and failing to mimic Yen. In her opinion, she's say he sounds more like he's been kicked in the balls than anything else.

"You're unbelivable!" He shakes his head dramatically.

"You're delusional!" She almost coughs at the gruffness of her own voice.

They smile and for once in a long, long time Ciri feels...light. She feels like she's actually 15 and not the continent's number one target or the actual harbinger of the apocalypse. She sees Jaskier smile as bright as sunshine, in Geralt's words though she might just secure her death if she ever told anyone that. Not for the first time, she feels an immese wave of gratitute towards him. This silly man who always tries, no matter how grim and depressing everything gets, to make her smile. To reassure her, to talk to her as simply her- not a witcher in training, not a novice mage, not a future queen-to-be.

Once upon a time, she might have hated him for speaking to her like this, like she was a child. Now? She finds herself deeply comforted by that, by him and his words.

She suspects Geralt felt a similar sentiment when he and Jaskier travelled together.

In the distance, they see Yen reach to cradle Geralt's cheek, the other leaning into her touch. Such a horridly cheesy scene to witness, Ciri thinks with a hint of fondness and alot of disgust for her parents-of-suprise. Another quip forms on her tongue but just as it escapes, she turns to her companion and-

Oh.

His face falls, demeanor more serious and...sad. Ciri, with creeping concern realizes that his eyes turn glassy. Jaskier's eyes stay glued on the pair, in a way that is tired. Like he's seen this moment a thousand times before.

"I forgive you...for your various foolish words and deeds. For your lack of faith and hope. For your obstinancy. Doggedness..." This time, Jaskier says these words in his own voice, slightly shakey and whispered. At this point, Ciri is no longer looking at the pair infront of them. She's seen the same forlorn look on both of her parent's faces before, when they were hopping between homes. Everytime Yen looks at Geralt when he doesn't let her in the house. Everytime Geralt reads another letter tacked on the door smelling of lilac and gooseberries.

Everytime she asks Geralt why he stopped travelling with his bard after decades of companionship.

Heartbreak. That's what Jaskier looks like, Ciri realizes. Suddenly, she's overcome with the urge to hug the man beside her, comfort him like how he has to her. The two kiss and she doesn't dare look at Jaskier when they do.

"Jaskier?" She notes the heavy pause before he eventually answers.

"Yes, dear?" He's smiling again, she can hear. How real it is, she can't say. Reaching for his arm, she squeezes.

"Let's go. I'm bored." She hears a chuckle before she feels him get up. They both can't help but glance back at the couple once more, now in an intimate embrace. Ciri pushes the bard towards their cottage, ignoring the sniffle she hears or the quick wipe of hid cheek disgused as a scratch.

"Come on, you deviant." They walk back to the cottage in silence.

Part 2 (x)

[fandom-junk-drawer]

The Witcher Headcanon - High

The more time Jaskier spends around Witchers, the more he notices how much they are like cats in some ways. Of course, they had those signature cat eyes that allowed them to see in the dark. And he started noticing how their eyes would dilate when something caught their attention.

A stalk of field grass with a bit of seed fluff on the end would cause Geralt's eyes to immeidately dialte if twitched. He had done it one winter in the Great Hall, with a willowy twig, and five heads had snapped toward the motion, and five pairs of eyes had dilated.

Jaskier had been reminded just how fast Witchers could move. He survived only because he managed to yeet the twig before he got dog piled.

Then he discovered that they purred, and liked cheek and chin scratches. He would start scratching cheeks or chins, and their eyes would dilate, and they would turn into Witcher-shaped puddles.

There were a lot of things that made their eyes dilate: cheek and chin scratches, being warm and comfortable, hugs, seeing something interesting, being excited, White Gull, and now, whatever the h*ll that plant was that Geralt was laying next to.

Jaskier had been waiting for over an hour for Geralt to return to camp. He had said he was going to set some snares, but he'd been gone too long, and Jaskier had gone looking for him. The bard had found him laying on his back next to a large shrub that was all shredded and mashed down, and he'd panicked, thinking he'd been attacked by something and left to die.

After getting a closer look though, he discovered that Geralt was unhurt. He was idly rolling a twist of pungent smelling leaves between his fingers and staring up at the sky, looking like he was having some kind of religious experience. There was only a thin ring of gold around his dialted pupils.

Jaskier *gently shaking his shoulder*: Er...Geralt? Geralt, can you hear me? Are you okay?

Geralt *dreamy voice*: Wouldn't being a-a bird be, like, the best? You could just fly around all day, sh*ttin' on people... I'd sh*t on Whatshisname...Valdo. Yeah, man, I'd totally sh*t on him. I'd just follow him around all day, every day, just sh*ttin' on him for you.

Jaskier: That's very touching, Geralt, and I appreciate the sentiment, but--! Melitele's tits, is that catnip?!

Geralt: Yeah, *rubs leaves on his face and starts purring*

Jaskier: Er, okay, big guy, let's get you back to camp. *slips arm under his shoulders and levers him into a sitting position*

Geralt *dramatic voice* : I ASCEND!

Jaskier: *gently takes the handful of leaves away and puts them in his pocket* Let me just hold on to these for you.

Jaskier heaved Geralt to his feet. The Witcher wobbled but stayed upright. He raised his hand, fingers positioned as if he were holding something, took a bite out of the invisible thing in his hand, squinted up at the sun, then demanded that Jaskier blow out the giant candle in the sky because he couldn't taste his cheese.

Jaskier regarded him silently for the space of a few heartbeats, then took a breath and blew it out at the sun.

"You blew out the sky candle! F***ing h*ll, I can't see anything now!"

"Your eyes are closed, Geralt."

Geralt opened his eyes, frowning irately, and grumbled "Blowing out the f***ing sky candle and plunging us all into eternal darkness-!" he stopped mid-rant as he remembered his invisible cheese, and took a bite. "Tastes like purple!"

Their trip back to camp had been punctuated by more stange ramblings as Geralt talked about all the mysteries of the universe, and randomly stopped to yell at a tree that was giving him a dirty look. He had passed out as soon as Jaskier had dropped him on his bedroll.

Geralt woke later, and in answer to his confused look, Jaskier had gleefully blurted, "You got high off catnip!", and then laughed himself breathless while Geralt growled and grumbled and denied it.

Jaskier pulled a few of the leaves out of his pocket and held them out to him. He'd been rather disappointed when Geralt had taken the leaves, examined them, and had absolutely no reaction to them. Geralt had given him a smug look that screamed "I told you so!".

Days later they stayed at an inn while Geralt worked a contract, and Jaskier entertained himself by tring to make friends with the cat that lived there.

She had stopped to sniff under the door, so he had opened it and tried to lure her in with some food scraps. The cat had been reluctant, having smelled Geralt's scent in the room. Jaskier remembered that cats did not like Witchers, but his inner Disney Princess was going to make friends with this cat through h*ll or high water!

He had taken some of the catnip, rubbed it between his palms, then put it in a little pile on the floor and crouched near it, hoping to entice the cat to come closer. He wiped his hands on his shirt and pants for good measure, in the hopes that he could get his new friend to sit in his lap.

Geralt returned a while later and found Jaskier sitting on the floor with a spaced out cat in his lap. He was curious as to why this cat was not immediately hissing and spitting at him like cats usually did when he encountered one. He slowly moved a little closer and caught a whiff of something herby...

The cat barely even flinched when Geralt dropped his bags and practically knocked Jaskier over trying to rub his face into his shirt. Jaskier ended up pinned to the floor by a hulking Witcher and a cat. He was grinning like an idiot while both the cat and Geralt rubbed their faces on him, and Happy Purred.

Jaskier made a few mental notes: 1. This is gold, tell Yen! 2. Don't mention this to Geralt. 3. Start collecting catnip. Ask Yen to help.

By the time Jaskier went to winter in Kaer Morhen that year, he had, with Yennefer's help, stockpiled a sizeable amount of catnip. He kept it hidden in his pack, wrapped with all his other herbs and dried florals, tucking it down in with his soaps and lotions and scents.

He had originally brought it as a joke, something to use to tease his adoptive family with, but he found that it really came in handy. Fights were a regular thing at Kaer Moren, especially when you were stuck indoors for weeks on end.

Jaskier started secretly burning a pinch or two of catnip in the Great Hall's fire pit when the usual minor scuffles looked like they were going to turn into fistfights.

Sometimes, when they were drunk and starting to try to fight each other, Jaskier would lobb a little catnip stuffed beanbag into the middle of them and let it work its magic.

Catnip tea became a thing.

Along with catnip cookies.

Sometimes, if he was bored, cold, or feeling a little down, Jaskier would rub a little catnip on his clothes and walk into the Great Hall, and then just enjoy the massive cuddle pile that resulted.

Yennefer knew exactly what was going on and was lowkey impressed her bardling had been able to smuggle the stuff into Kaer Morhen without Geralt knowing. It was an amusing distraction. She and Jaskier would sit and listen to their random thoughts.

"Forks are just a hand for your hand."

"Bread has a wetness scale, and here's why..."

" What if dragons had their wings on their back legs?"

" When two people kiss, they make a really long tube with an a**hole at each end."

"Your belly button used to be your mouth."

"If potatoes have eyes, then that means they watch you as you murder them."

And of course there was the humorous behavior, like:

Lambert balancing on the top of a door, claiming that he was a hawk.

Witchers crowding around a window to 'ekekekekek!' at a bird outside.

Geralt standing in the stables, bare a** naked, telling Roach she was pretty.

Eskel swearing that the rats in his room were talking sh*t behind his back, and it was really hurtful so, could Jaskier please go tell them to stop being mean?

Coen standing infront of a mirror, combing hair he didn't have, and swearing that Yennefer was lying to him when she told him he was bald.

Vesemir trying to fight everyone because he was feeling like he was 150 again because his joints didn't hurt anymore.

Then came the event that Yennefer personally could not stop laughing about. Lambert had started a massive drunken brawl one evening. Jaskier had been in his room, trying to make friends with some of the rats, when he'd heard the enraged screaming. He'd run to the Great Hall and seen an obviously inebriated Geralt and Lambert rolling and snarling on the floor.

Coen and Eskel tried to break it up, but were dragged into the free for all. Jaskier started yelling for them to stop, but he was ignored. He ran back to his room and did the only thing he could think of.

Yennefer had heard all the rukus and stormed into the Great Hall just as Jaskier came running back in, carrying the biggest joint the Continent had ever seen. The size of it was just absurd. Yennefer had started laughing as he'd dropped it unceremoniously into the firepit. Smoke billowed up, filling the room, and seconds later, the fight was over. Witchers were laying in a pile on the floor, stoned off their a**es, and contemplating the complex mysteries of the universe. Jaskier was pretty sure some of them were seeing gods.

It had taken weeks for the room to air out enough to were the Wolves weren't getting high just walking in to it, but there were still a few spots on the wall, and one of the furs where the smell continued to cling. It became a big joke after Jaskier guiltily explained what happened. Now when one of them, especially Lambert, started getting extra prickly, someone would say "Go sniff the fur/wall and calm the h*ll down!"

[beth--b]

You're not fine

When Jaskier was a young boy he fell ill. He only had vague memories of the actual illness, bits and pieces of fevered dreams and a painful cough that left him gasping for breath.

More than the actual illness though he remembers his father berating him.

‘Real men don't cry over a sniffle boy,’ and ‘man up, toughen up and get back to your lessons’ along with many other similar words, were spat at him as he lay in his bed struggling just to breathe.

Everytime after that he made sure to keep any sort of illness or ailment to himself.

Those same habits had also followed him into adulthood.

XXX

It was late fall and Jaskier was making the journey to Kaer Morhen with Geralt. It was only his second time making the trip and he was determined that he would make himself useful when they made it to the Keep.

He had spent much of their last Winter together helping Vesemir in the kitchen and helping with various jobs when he was able. He had told the old Witcher that he would help sort through the library next time, so he knew he had a busy Winter ahead of him.

The trip up the killer had been mercifully uneventful. It was beginning to snow which did slow them down a touch, neither bard nor Witcher wanting to slip and fall, but otherwise they had made reasonably good time.

The pair finally reached the Keep on the day where the snow had begun to fall in earnest. Rather than the scattered snowflakes from the first days now Jaskier would have lost sight of Geralt had he fallen too far behind. Not that Geralt would let that happen.

After settling Roach into the stable with Scorpion and Veremir's cart horse the pair had gratefully headed inside, into the warmth. Geralt made sure Jaskier was settled by the fire, leaving their belongings on the floor at his feet, before he went to search for Vesemir and Eskel.

Jaskier sighed in relief as the warmth from the fire helped bring the feeling back into his fingertips and toes. He'd all but dozed off when he felt a hand on his shoulder startling him awake.

"Sorry Jaskier, didn't mean to scare you,” came a familiar voice from above and behind him.

He looked over his shoulder to see Eskel giving him an apologetic smile.

"No harm done my dear Eskel, it's wonderful to see you again,” Jaskier stood up as he spoke and Eskel pulled him in for a hug.

They had just sat back down together in front of the fire when GeraIt came back into the hall followed by Vesemir, each of them carrying two steaming mugs.

Geralt deposited both of his into Jaskier's waiting hands before pulling Eskel up into a hug of his own. They stood like that for a moment, foreheads pressed together, before letting go. Geralt dropped down beside Jaskier, taking back one of the steaming mugs, as Vesemir passed one of the two he carried to Eskel.

Jaskier sipped at his drink, some kind of warm mulled wine, and lay his head against Geralt's shoulder. It wasn't long before he felt his eyes getting heavy and he drifted off to sleep.

xxx

When Jaskier woke he was somehow both freezing and too warm all at once.

He was in a bed, Geralt's bed, he eventually realised, and said Witcher had his bare chest pressed up against Jaskier's back, breaths even and slow in sleep.

He put that down as the reason for the too hot, and his exposed feet where the blanket had fallen away, as the too cold.

He readjusted himself as much as he could and cleared his dry throat a few times. Before too long he fell asleep once more.

xxx

The next time Jaskier woke there was weak sunlight coming through the window. Still early but morning nonetheless.

Geralt was still in bed, though he'd rolled over in his sleep so he wasn't pressed against him anymore.

He slowly sat up and stretched, wincing at the ache that ran through his body. He supposed that trekking up a mountain would leave one a little stiff and sore. His throat was dry and scratchy so he decided to head down to the kitchen to get some water.

Geralt snuffled in his sleep when Jaskier stood, but didn’t wake up. It wasn’t often Geralt got to sleep without any worries for their safety and Jaskier took a moment to just watch him before the need for water made him look away and leave the room to head down to the kitchen.

He only took one wrong turn navigating to the kitchen, not bad after being away for the last three seasons.

He found Eskel in the kitchen already, water boiling over the fire for tea already. Eskel himself was chopping some vegetables to put in a stew for that night's dinner. He glanced up from his task as Jaskier entered the space.

"Morning Jaskier. Sleep well?” Eskel asked, continuing his task.

Jaskier nodded and gave Eskel a tired smile before getting a drink of water. He then retrieved two mugs to prepare tea.

They completed their tasks in comfortable silence, other than Jaskier offering to make tea for Eskel.

Once the tea had steeped and the vegetables were chopped and in a pot of water for later the pair headed out to the hall, sitting at the long table that once would have been filled with Witchers and trainees alike. The room always seemed too big, but they sat at the table nearest the fire and turned their backs on the empty room behind them. This at least made it feel a little less empty.

Eskel seemed to sense that Jaskier wasn't up for much conversation, making a few comments about the winter ahead but otherwise sitting in comfortable silence until Eskel went back to the kitchen to prepare breakfast.

By the time Jaskier finished his tea, both Vesemir and Geralt had made their way into the hall.

Geralt sat beside Jaskier on the long bench and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

"Are you feeling alright? You seem a little warm.”

"Yes, yes of course my dear. Must just be the heat from the fire.” If Jaskier were being honest with himself he might have admitted that his throat was a little sore and he did feel awfully tired. Of course, he wouldn't admit that as there was always work to be done in a Keep this size. Besides, real men didn't admit a weakness like feeling a little under the weather.

He was fine.

Geralt still looked a little skeptical but seemed to accept the answer for the moment. He was distracted from any further questions by Eskel bringing out a pot of porridge, as well as some dried fruit and honey.

The four of them dug in, though Jaskier took a smaller portion, adding plenty of honey. He was fine, but his throat was just a little scratchy, surely just from being in the cold the day before. Some time in the warm keep and he'd be fine by the afternoon.

Once breakfast was done Eskel returned to the kitchen, Vesemir went to air out Lambert's room, he was due to arrive in the next day or so, and Geralt went out to give Roach some care and attention after long months on the path.

Geralt suggested that Jaskier join him, however he had his own project in mind.

That was how he found himself alone in the Keep's library.

First things first, he needed to take stock of what was already there so he could make a plan of attack.

At least that was what he planned to do.

Within a few short hours he found himself sniffling and coughing, scratchy throat replaced with a horrible burning pain every time he swallowed.

It was the dust.

The library was very dusty.

Vesemir had clearly aired the room out before their arrival, obviously remembering the plan to work in here this winter, but it was still dreadfully dusty. That must be it.

Never mind that he had never suffered from a dust allergy before.

By the time lunch rolled around Jaskier’s nose was streaming, he was coughing so much his chest had begun to ache and he wanted nothing more than to go to bed.

He found himself standing in the middle of the library attempting to read the title of a rather heavy volume about some kind of monster when Geralt arrived.

"Hey Jask, ready to come have some lunch?”

Jaskier knew he should answer but he was suddenly very sure that it would be a cough that came out rather than words.

"Jaskier?” Geralt came around the shelves Jaskier was standing behind and touched his arm. "Everything alright?”

Unable to hold it in any longer Jaskier opened his mouth and let out a barking cough. The cough became a coughing fit that Ieft him gasping as Geralt wrapped an arm around him and led him to an armchair in the centre of the library.

Geralt rubbed his back until the fit passed, then drew him close against his side when it finally stopped.

"What the fuck Jask? Why are you working in here if you're sick? You should have told me you weren't well.”

Finally catching his breath Jaskier pulled away enough to look Geralt in the eye.

“There was nothing to tell love, I'm fine.”

Geralt rolled his eyes. "You are not fine, you were practically coughing up a lung. I can hear how congested you are. And," he pressed a hand to Jaskier's forehead, "you have a fever.” Now, can I please take you to bed?”

Jaskier wanted to argue, but if he was honest with himself for a moment, he had to concede that he felt like fucking shite.

Fuck his father and his ridiculous tough guy crap. He could be a man and still get sick. He had a partner who loved him and wanted to take care of him so he may take the path of least resistance. He was too tired to argue.

Sagging against Geralt's side he gave in. "Fine. I suppose I might be a little under the weather afterall. Bed does sound lovely.”

"Then bed it shall be. Come on my songbird, let's get you comfortable, then I'll bring you some tea with extra honey for your throat.”

“Hmm, sounds wonderful.”

Geralt helped Jaskier up, dropping a kiss to his hair and walking them slowly to the bedroom.

Jaskier may or may not have fallen asleep within moments of his head hitting the pillow.

He then spent the next two days letting his big bad Witcher bring him tea and soup in bed.

Maybe he'd admit to feeling poorly more often.

[kikidoesfanfic]

Melancholy March

KikiDoesFanfic on ao3

Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, The Witcher (TV) Fluff, Pining Rating: T No Archive Warnings Apply Words: 675 Chapters: 1/1 On Ao3

Summary: Every year they part, and every year Jaskier seems more grim the closer they arrive to Oxenfurt.

Geralt doesn't understand, until he does. Fic below the cut

He watches his bard walk, head forward, mouth set in a grim line that only gets more severe the closer they get to the crossroad.

Every year his mood worsens around the lead up to Winter truly setting in.

Going from bubbly babbling with excitement that first parting, to nervous babbling, to subdued babbling, to falsely cheerful babbling, rather a lot of babbling as Jaskier is want to do. Geralt had assumed he just hated the weather, they had cut it close a few times, Jaskier almost not making it to Oxenfurt before the snow set in.

But this year is different.

It's the silence that has Geralt worried, out of everything, the resigned acceptance in the slump of his shoulders and the occasional perfectly mundane sighs, so far from Jaskier's usual performative dramatics. It all paints a picture that's far from promising, but the silence? On a scale of Jaskier's usual moods, silence indicates a level somewhere between devastating and catastrophic.

Geralt wracks his mind for something that could have happened before Jaskier's mood took a turn, to sour it, but can't come up with anything. They'd had a perfectly lovely day together, and they're making even better time than they usually would.

Now Jaskier would get to go to Oxenfurt, back to his students and luxury living for the Winter, while Geralt made the trek to see his brothers and rest, well before the weather truly turned and made his journey up the mountain miserable.

They reach the crossroads, and Jaskier looks up only after scuffing the ground with the toe of his boot.

"I suppose I shall see you in the Spring, then?" He says, smile small, but eyes tight with an emotion Geralt can't quite parce. He doesn't ask.

Instead Geralt nods, places a hand on his shoulder, squeezes, "be safe, bard." Jaskier ducks under his arm, squeezes him back, but with a hug, not a hand.

"Be safe? You're the one heading up 'The Killer," and Geralt can hear the air quotes in his voice, "alone. I'll be in Oxenfurt, there's nothing to worry about there."

"Dont sell yourself short, I'm sure you'd find yourself some trouble somehow, it's your greatest talent after all." Jaskier pulls back with something that sounds alarmingly close to a sniffle, and slaps at Geralt's shoulder.

"Oh you are terribly rude to me, I don't know why I'm missing you already when you treat me so horribly." He says it with fondness, a more genuine smile curling at his mouth, so Geralt shifts ready to move lest he change his mind and walk with Jaskier a while longer.

"I'll find you in Spring, Jaskier." He says, long past pretending he doesn't look out for the bard each year, knowing Jaskier does the same.

"I'll find you first, just you wait and see." Jaskier replies, staring at Geralt a moment before decisively turning and walking off down the road, humming as he goes.

Geralt waits, looks after him, and just as he does every year Jaskier turns and seems pleased by Geralt's watching him leave, before continuing on his way with an extra bounce to his step.

It takes years for Geralt to understand, until he comes to realise while standing in that very same spot and waiting for Jaskier to walk away, that the reason for Jaskier's melancholy upon their parting each year isn't something mundane as disliking the weather. That Jaskier is increasingly upset, of all things, for leaving him and being left in turn.

"Jaskier," He says, and Jaskier cocks a questioning eyebrow in the pause it takes him to gather his courage, "come with me?"

While Jaskier's eyes widen in shock, Geralt has time to panic at his incoming rejection. Why would Jaskier give up his months of luxury and teaching for a crumbling keep in the cold.

His worries are unfounded though, Jaskier reaches him, reals him in for a soft kiss that tastes of his sweet smile and happy laugh, and merely says:

"Why Darling, I thought you'd never ask."

On Ao3

[chaptersinprogress]

Hellooooooo I humbly request #35 'your problem is my problem' from the ~they're dating~ prompt list

Ciri tossed and turned and tossed and turned. But it was of no use. The ground remained unpleasantly uncomfortable: lumpy and hard in all the wrong places.

Sighing, Ciri flopped onto her back and closed her eyes. Maybe she’d have better luck counting sheep...

1 little sheep, 2 little sheep, 3 little sheep...

She’d reached 741 sheep before rustling and a huff at her side broke her streak. Keeping her breathing in the even meditative cadence it had fallen into, Ciri opened her eyes just a fraction.

The dark form beside her huffed once more before sitting up. A short hiss escaped the figure, before it crawled out of the makeshift tent they lay beneath. 

Ciri opened her eyes fully and curled up on her side so that she could see out of the entrance better. She watched as the figure paced in circles round and round the campfire beside the tents.

The repetitive pattern of the action had nearly lulled her into a doze, when a whispered voice carried through the air.

“Yennefer?” she heard Jaskier ask. “What’s wrong?”

A new figure joined the one that had abruptly stopped moving by the fire. Ciri found herself now wide awake.

There was a long pause that hung in the air, Yennefer seeming to weigh her words, before she finally answered him quietly.

“Couldn’t sleep. Why are you up?”

Jaskier shrugged, the movement almost imperceptible to Ciri.

“Same here.”

The two of them stood by each other in silence, staring at the fire or out into the woods, Ciri couldn’t tell which. Minutes passed as such, and Ciri had about made up her mind to stop watching and attempt the sheep thing again when Yennefer spoke once more.

“Wanna talk about it?”

Ciri only caught the tail-end of a hastily stifled chuckle. Then Jaskier’s head tipped to the side a little, as if he was actually considering the idea, before it was shaken off.

“Maybe,” his voice quietly allowed. “But not today I think.”

Yennefer hummed.

The bard nudged her. “You have more than enough problems to solve at the moment anyway, nevermind adding mine to the mix.”

The sorceress inhaled, paused, then abruptly turned to him, her hand shooting out but the fingers coming to rest gently on his wrist. Jaskier froze.

Ciri couldn’t be certain but she’d bet the last three sweets in her pack that their resident magic-expert was staring intently at the place her fingers met the skin of Jaskier’s wrist.

“It’s… It’s not a hardship,” Yennefer said slowly. “If you have… problems… I… You’re my favourite sing-songy twit so…”

The muscles in the mage’s jaw worked hard, the movements highlighted by the flickering light cast by the fire. She glared at a point over the bard’s shoulder.

“Your problems are my problems too, okay?”

From the way Jaskier was gaping at Yennefer, Ciri could tell that he had been completely caught off guard by the sentiment. To be fair, Ciri hadn’t seen it coming either. Yennefer didn’t really come across as the type to express that sort of thing.

“Right… well…” Jaskier tripped over his tongue, which had Ciri biting her own to make sure her laughter couldn’t be heard. “Well you're my favourite sewer-dwelling she-hag, so your problems are my problems too!”

Now it was Yennefer’s turn to be thrown, violet eyes blowing wide open as she stared at Jaskier in disbelief.

Meanwhile Ciri had graduated from biting her tongue to biting the meat of her forearm to stifle the full-body laughter that shook her. Melitele help them all, this was almost as bad as when she had to watch Grandmama and Eist figure themselves out! It was like neither of them knew what to do with each other… and Geralt said that they’ve all known each other for a long time!

The two adults continued to just stare at each other.

“So, um, hugging!” Jaskier yelped out frantically. “Hugs—hugs are a thing we do now right—would you like a hug? A hug seems like a great idea right about now, really adds to the whole vibe we have going; though I really probably should stop taaaalkingggg…”

The bard’s voice trailed off as he abruptly found himself wrapped in a hug.

Ciri couldn’t help the soft coo that escaped her as she watched the two of them just stand awkwardly frozen for a few moments.

“I do believe a hug typically involves more than one person doing the hugging, Jaskier,” said Yennefer, her voice partially muffled by said man’s chest.

“Ah��right, right,” replied Jaskier frantically, startled into action, hands flailing a little before he gingerly rested them on the mage’s back.

The awkwardness lasted a little while longer, before the tension began to seep out of their muscles. Ever so slowly, they began to relax against each other—the distance between them vanishing into nothing—curling over and into each other until an onlooker wouldn’t be able to tell where one ended and the other began.

Ciri watched them for a long while: two bodies melded into a singular, more solid form, swaying gently side to side as the night breeze swirled around them. Her eyes grew heavier and heavier, the time between blinks stretching further and further, till she slipped easily into sleep’s embrace, the afterimage of the entwined figures lingering for just a few moments longer.

~they're dating~ | ask box

[spiderbaby123]

Jaskier X fem!reader

Ok just a little fluff, didnt know where I was going until i got there. Enjoy.

"Geralt?" I groaned out. "We've been walking for ages!" A mere grunt was all that was returned. "You see that?" I turned to Jaskier. "He just ignored me." Jaskier snickered. "I did indeed, y/n." I stopped in my tracks. Pause for the dramatics and what not. "Oh, I think I.." I had waited for Jaskier to be right next to me and then I went limp. Jaskier's eyes widened as he reached out hastily to catch me. "Y/n?!" Geralt turned around to see what my theatrics might be this time, only to see me still limp in the bards arms. "Geralt! Help me! She's completely limp! Is she alright?!" He walked back to us and picked me up out of Jaskier's arms' much to my dismay to be honest, but nonetheless. He carried me for a few feet. "Come on Jaskier. She's fine." He carried me to the next town which wasnt very far actually. I tried my best to stay limp until the witcher had purchased 2 rooms at a local inn. Honestly I felt a little bad for our dear bard, i dont think he quite caught on yet. He rambled on about seeing a healer and the inn keeper looked curiously at the 3 of us. I smirked once the rooms were paid for and jumped awake. "Oh. Oh. Where are we?" I question full well knowing. "Witcher? Oh witcher you saved me!" I dramatically hugged Geralts neck and then jumped down from his grip, well attempted to. "I think you owe Jaskier an apology." He grunted at me. I pouted "I think Jaskier should be thanking me for a warm bed." "I paid. He should be thanking me. Now apologize." I grumble and looked at the bard. "Jaskier, Jaskier my dear." I reached my hand towards him, which he took gingerly. "I'm so sorry i worried you." Jaskier smiled. "Oh darling, it's quite alright." "See now let me go." Geralt set me down but Jaskier never let go so I turned back to him. "Jaskier?" He was smirking now. "Besides you can make it up to me tonight in our room, love." I blushed a deep red. "J-Jaskier!" I snapped my hand away quickly. Geralt stepped between us. "Y/n, has her own room."

~a few hours later~

We had hit the pub for some ale and boy had Jaskier hit it. He was drunkenly playing his lute and telling story, the occasional flirt with attractive bypassers. "Jaskier." I stated low and calm to grab his attention. Id never admit it but I got quite jealous of the various lude comments he had made towards stranger. "Oh, darling there you are!" He slurred. "You are drunk. Lets get back to the inn while you can still walk. Geralt left some time ago." I mumbled quietly. "Hmm?" He started, "but darling I havent made a new friend yet." He said friend in a weird way so id know what he meant. "You dont need to." I snapped back a little too harsh. He looked a little taken aback but grabbed my hand kissing it anyway. "Lead the way,love." He sounded much less intoxicated this time.

~at the inn~

The walk back had been far too quiet. Jaskier had kept hold of my hand the whole way and now we were in front of our rooms. "Thank you." He stated quietly while looking at me. "F-for what..?" He gaze was alluring and making me quite nervous. "Making sure I made it back safely." His voice was husky and not at all Sounding drunk now. I had noticed him grab my other hand yet until he liftex it to his lips. "For pulling your little stunt as well." He moved a little closer. Unconsciously I had done the same. "For coming along with us." He had inched closer until our noses were about to touch. "I want to kiss you." He said just above a whisper. "W-what?" I had blushed more than ever in this moment. "Fuck.. I'm going to." He whispered and then our lips connected Surprising me. He pulled away. "Thank you..." I whispered quietly in a complete daze. Jaskier chuckled. "Oh, youre quite welcome darling." He leaned in again kissing me lightly. When he pulled away I snapped out of my daze and grabbed him by the collar and pulled him back for another kiss. This one deep and passionate as Jaskier snaked his arms around my waist, pulling me closer.

[merlot-and-chardonnay]

A Lark Among the Wolves and Dragons: Chapter 22

Chapter 21

Jaskier wondered the halls, making his way back to his own rooms before the servants would  come with breakfast.

Though the Bard would spend most of his time with you to keep you from being alone with Daemon during the day, it didn't stop him from chasing tail from married noblewomen at night. 

That was when Jaskier found you leaning against the wall, tears in your eyes.

"(y/n)?" he rushes over to you concerned, "are you alright? Was it Daemon again? Oh, sister I can't take this anymore, prince or not I'm going to give that-that monster a piece of my mind."

"No, it's not that," you tell him, shakily standing up, your brother giving you hand.

"Then what is it?" he asks. You contemplate if you should tell Jaskier the truth, that you might be pregnant with Daemon's child again.

You wipe your tears away, deciding against it and saving it for another time, "I...I saw Geralt," you say, which was true, "he's here."

"He...Geralt- he..." Jaskier looks around to make sure no one could be listening in, "he's here in the Red Keep?" "No, he's at a brothel in street of Silk," you tell him.

"What the...you mean he's been here this whole time and he was balls deep in some prostitute?! He couldn't be bothered to come see you or even me first?!"

"No, he came in last night," you exasperate, "the deal I struck with Larys Strong finally came through...and all it ended up costing as it turns out was my shoes."

You point to your bare feet for emphasis. "Lord Strong wanted your shoes as payment?" Jaskier frowned in confusion. "Yeah, I don't get it either," you shrug, "but yeah, the deal came through. He's resting in a secret room at the brothel. He's still hurt, but he'll live. I...I spent the night there with him."

"...oh, (y/n)," Jaskier pulls you in for a hug. "I can't stay here another day or night," you say, "It's now or never, Jaskier." "So that means...?" "We're escaping," you confirm, "and we're doing it tonight. We need to come up with a plan before then to get us all out. You, me, Geralt, and Aemma. I don't care how we get back to the Continent, whether by ship or through a portal, all I know is I can't stand one more day in this glittering prison any longer."

Jaskier nods in understanding.

-----------------later that day---------------

It was around dusk when you snuck back to the Street of Silk once again to find Geralt in the secret room.

The witcher had spent most of this time on his knees in meditation, or at least tried to stay on his knees for as long as he could before the pain from his injuries became a little too much to bear and had to rest in between sessions.

You clear your throat to get his attention, "I talked to Jaskier," you inform him, "he know you're here. We're getting out of this place...tonight."

Nodding, you help Geralt onto his feet and grab his cloak.

The sun had almost set when you and Geralt left the place and walked through the streets up towards the Red Keep.

You keep a hand on Geralt's nearly the whole time, fearing that if you let go, he would be lost to you again.

As you walked up some steps that led towards the keep, you bumped into a man in armor, whom you presumed to be one of the men of the City Watch.

"Watch where you're running off to," the man warns in a deep voice. You feel him grab your chin, "where are you off to in such a hurry?"

One look into the man's face and you recognized him right away, "Ser Harwin," you say. The man in question looks at you before he also recognized you, "Lady Lark, what are you doing outside the keep at this hour?"

The Strong man then turns his gaze to Geralt, who kept the hood of his cloak over his head to conceal his hair and most of his face, "who is this man?"

"He's a friend of mine...from the Continent," you assure, "He arrived in King's Landing from Novigrad a couple days ago. He's been staying in Flea Bottom this whole time and I wish to provide him better accommodations."

Harwin has a suspicious look on his face, like he wasn't sure if he could believe you. From the knight's point of view, Geralt gave off a rather enigmatic aura, resulting in Harwin unsure if the witcher could be a trusted individual.

"No one will even know he's there," you try and persuade Harwin some more, "you trust me, Ser, do you not?" Harwin nods in response, "I trust him, you can trust him too."

"My Lady, it is not a matter of trust," Harwin says, "I cannot just allow strangers to come and go into the Red Keep whenever they please, I am-" "You do not have to worry about strangers coming and going," Geralt says, casting Axii on Harwin, "as far as you're concerned, no one will know I am there."

Under the Axii influence, Harwin gives a nod in approval, "I suppose as long as that is the case. You may proceed, my Lady, you and your friend."

"I had it under control," you lightly scold Geralt as you and him pass Harwin. "I know," Geralt says, small smirk on his face, "I was merely speeding things up."

You roll your eyes bit, "again, it's good to know some things haven't changed." Geralt gives a light chuckle in response.

You lead Geralt to the secret passageway in the keep that led to your room. You open the door, but then feel Geralt tighten his grip around your wrist, "what is it?" you ask. "Someone is coming this way towards your rooms," he tells you.

You feel your chest tighten; at this point, you didn't even have to guess who it was. Upon hearing your heartbeat start to increase, and detecting the faint smells of the approaching individual, Geralt had a good idea of who it was.

The witcher was about to grab his sword, but you stop him.

"Geralt, no," you plead. "I'm not about to let that man lay a hand on you again," he insists. "If he sees you here, this plan will be for nothing," you say, "Geralt, please. I don't want to do this either, but you cannot be seen," you push him back into the passageway, "whatever happens, whatever you see, hear, or even smell, you must promise you won't leave this spot until he leaves the room. Please, Geralt, you need to promise me."

Geralt had a conflicted look in his eyes, but reluctantly nods as a promise all the same.

You close the secret door right when the door to your room unlocks and Daemon walks into the room.

"...husband," you greet, doing your best to keep your tone of voice from betraying your true intentions.

Daemon closes the door, giving you an untrustworthy look,

"...Last time you addressed me in a similar manner, I shortly passed out from unknowingly consuming essence of nightshade."

"And how would I have slipped you essence of nightshade this time around?" you point out, "how long has it been since we've enjoyed a cup of wine together?"

Daemon said nothing, but approached you in the manner he's always had whenever he wished to bend you over the bed. You flinched when he goes to touch you, closing your eyes as he rubs your arm, relishing in the softness of your skin, "there was a time when you used to enjoy these touches," he says, moving his hand to your cheek, resting it there, "I had hoped my absence all these years would've made you yearn for such caresses once more."

You sigh a bit; it was true that in the beginning of your lover's tryst, you enjoyed the attention Daemon had given you, craved it even.

Much of that craving, however, had started to fade when Daemon's possessive nature had become more then you could handle. Eventually, those feelings had all but vanished the day he had pushed you against the wall, pretending he was going to force himself on you...the same day you had tried to escape, only to have Daemon find you and drag you back again.

"...Maybe that wouldn't be the case if I was allowed to come and go as I please," you spat, "a bird trapped in a cage cannot thrive for long after all."

"A cage," Daemon scoffs in light laughter, and before you could react, the prince takes you and tosses you on the bed.

Once again, you start to struggle to push Daemon off you as he pulls on his breeches, fixing to pull himself out.

Geralt, who had the secret door cracked open slightly and had been watching, could feel his anger rising. The witcher was fixing to grab his sword and pull Daemon away from you before he could even drop his drawers, but you speak up.

"Daemon, I'm pregnant!"

Daemon suddenly stopped pulling at the laces in his breeches upon hearing those words. He stood back, a look of shock on his face, "you're...is this true, are you certain?"

You nod before you answer, "...I've yet to confirm this with a maester, but...the symptoms I have are similar to when I was carrying Aemma. I have no doubt about it."

This was a hefty gamble you were taking; disclosing this information to Daemon would only provide the prince more incentive to keep you close to him, to keep you from escaping, but you couldn't bear to have this man touch you anymore, especially not when the man you love is literally hiding behind the wall.

It was also a gamble as you weren't sure how Daemon would start to treat you, if he would be a little more gentle with you, or still be as brutally rough as before.

Obviously you were hoping for the former, as Daemon has already proven he at least cared about whatever children you would produce for him.

You hold your breath briefly as you watch Daemon get on his knees, and then silently sigh in relief when he pressed his head against your thickened middle.

He placed a hand on your belly, rubbing gentle circles with his thumb before placing a kiss there, "I had hoped this would have happened before I left for the Stepstones," he admits, "...better late then never I suppose."

He gives you barely visible bump another tender kiss, "my little dragon...my son." You gasp a little, though Daemon did not seem to hear it. It shouldn't come as a surprise that the Targaryen prince was still hoping for a son, much as he loves his daughter. Like many other patriarchal royals, Daemon wishes for offspring to continue his line and pass down his family name.

Daemon gives your belly one last kiss before standing up. He takes your hand in his and places a kiss to your wrist, "I will send for a maester on the morrow to confirm that you are with child," he tells you, "and afterwards I shall announce to the court of our marriage so no one will question this child's legitimacy. I'll fetch the Septon who conducted the ceremony as confirmation."

You had some doubts about people seeing this child as nothing more than a bastard, but give Daemon a nod all the same.   

You wait a minute or two after Daemon walked out of your room before you go for the secret door and help Geralt inside.

"You are married?" the witcher asks. You feel yourself go pale, not sure what to say, "I had no say in the matter," you tell him, "Daemon took me as his second wife on Dragonstone, but he's kept it a secret this whole time. I tried to run away, but the guards stopped me from escaping."

"Does anyone else know?" "Well it was a secret marriage," you answer sarcastically, "meaning no one else does know...except for the Septon that wedded us and a handful of Daemon's confidantes, or as I call them Daemon's sycophants."

"And...you really are pregnant again?" Geralt asks, though his tone of voice suggested he wasn't surprised by this revelation. "You...knew?" "Not for certain...not until now," Geralt admits, "The first time I saw you again, I heard the faint heartbeat. I had hoped I was merely hearing things."

You sigh, knowing now without a doubt that your worse suspicions have been realized. "What will do?" "...I'll worry about that later," you tell him, "one plan at a time. First we need to escape."

Right on cue, there was another knock on the door. Neither you nor Geralt were concerned this time however; Geralt recognize the sound and you knew it was part of the plan you and your brother had concocted earlier before you left the keep.

You go to answer the door, and sure enough, Jaskier was at the other side, holding a sleeping Aemma in his arms.

"Did anyone see you?" you ask as you pull him in, checking outside to make sure no one was spying on you. "I was extra vigilante on that," Jaskier assures, "I had to engage in some necking with one of the nursemaids, but she didn't seem apt to rat me out, especially since I wanted to spend some extra time with my niece."

The Bard looked to see Geralt sitting on the bed, "Geralt!" he hands Aemma over to you so he could greet his best friend, "thank the gods you made it, I was about to assume the worse."

"It's good to see you too, Jaskier," Geralt nods.

"Mama?" you hear Aemma softly speak as she opened her eyes. This was the time of night your daughter would be sleeping, so this was unusual for her to be in your arms right now.  "Hey, sweet girl?" you say as she yawned and rubbed her eyes. "Are we going somewhere?" she asks. "We're going on a little trip overseas, to your mother's home, sweetling," you explain, "you, me, your uncle, and a friend of ours."

"What about papa?" Aemma asks, still sleepy. "...papa will join us another time," you assure her with a lie. "What about Cirillia?"

Geralt and Jaskier exchange looks as you take a moment to think about, "Cirillia won't be able to come with us, not yet anyway, sweetie," you tell her, "but she will join us someday, and hopefully when she does she'll be big enough that you'll be able to ride her. That sounds exciting, right little love?"

Aemma smiles, joyful at the though that she would be able to ride her dragon someday soon.

She yawns again, and you give her a kiss on the head, "rest now, little love, Uncle Jaskier will carry you the rest of the way."

Once Aemma was asleep, you hand her over to Jaskier, "Who is Cirillia?" he asks confusion written on his face. "Her dragon," you answer, "a gift from her father." "You said he gave her a dragon egg," Jaskier exasperates in a whisper. "Yes...and the egg hatched," you say like it was obvious, "we can't take the dragon with us now, she's too big, the size of a large dog, she would be too hard to hide. If I had escaped years ago when Cirillia was still the size of a bird, it would've been possible, but not now."

"It's now or never," you tell the two men, then turned to address Jaskier, "is there a ship on the docks by chance?" "There is one leaving for Oxenfurt at dawn," he tells you. "*sigh,* well we can still hide in the secret room. We need to get going."

You open the door into the secret passage, and then lead Geralt and Jaskier in. You keep your breath held during this time, hoping beyond hope that this new escape will go according to plan and nothing will wrong this time around.

Chapter 22.5

Masterlist

[27dragons]

New Year Countdown: Dec 25

Random choice for today was Geraskifer and the AU the generator picked for me was... canon. This obviously isn't really canon, but it's not TOO far off. Do I want to tell you all the time I spent poking around in various Witcher wikis and fandom sites trying to figure out their winter holiday traditions? I do not. Let's just say it was probably more than a 600-word ficlet really warranted. So just have some sneaky clever Jaskier and a Ciri who's enjoying her second childhood to the fullest.

Dec 25 - Geraskifer - Canon - Stocking

Ciri’s shriek jerked Geralt out of a sound sleep. He snatched up his sword even as he leapt out of the bed. “Ciri!”

Yenn pulled a silver dagger from under her pillow as she stood, heedless of her nakedness. Her eyes narrowed and her jaw clenched in determination.

The door burst open. Geralt’s shoulder ached as he recognized Ciri and halted his instinctive attack.

“Come on!” she demanded, and she didn’t look frightened or even worried. She looked... Excited and happy.

Geralt lowered his sword with a heavy sigh of relief. “Fuck. Don’t--”

“Come on!” Ciri repeated, practically dancing on her toes. “It’s Midwinter! We have to open our stockings!”

Geralt twisted to look at Yenn. He hadn’t thought about the Midwinter celebration at all. He certainly hadn’t gotten gifts to hide in anyone’s stockings.

Yenn’s violet eyes were wide as they met his, and she gave him the tiniest of head shakes. She hadn’t gotten anything either.

“Come on!” Ciri urged. “Father Winter came!”

“All right, give us a minute, we’ll be there,” Yenn said. When Ciri had danced back out of the room, they both sagged. 

“I forgot about Midwinter,” Geralt murmured as he picked up his shirt.

“Me too,” Yenn admitted as she pulled on her dress. “What are we going to do?”

“She’s nineteen,” Geralt grumbled. “You’d think she was six, with all the yelling.”

They finished dressing and went out to the little cottage’s common room and stopped, staring in amazement.

There was a roaring fire on the hearth. The copper kettle was hanging on its hook, bubbling gently and smelling of wine and spices. Laid carefully beside the hearth were three bulging stockings. No Yule tree had appeared, but there was an evergreen wreath on the table, bright with berries and apples.

“What--” Geralt wondered, but was cut off when Ciri shoved his stocking at him.

“I told you, Father Winter came!” She grinned and kissed his cheek. “Happy Midwinter.”

“Happy Midwinter,” Geralt repeated, still half-stunned, and looked down at his stocking. It appeared to be filled with fruit and candy and nuts. He emptied it onto the table, item by item.

“Did Ciri do all this?” Yenn whispered as she emptied her own stocking, next to him.

“She must have,” Geralt said. “The house is warded, no one should be able to--”

The door opened with a flurry of snow, revealing Jaskier, his lute and his pack both covered by a thick, fur-lined cloak. “I made it!” he exclaimed. “I thought this storm was going to make me miss Midwinter.”

“Jaskier!” Ciri yelped, and dove forward, pulling the bard into the warmth before hugging him tightly. “You’re back!”

“I am,” Jaskier agreed. “I rode right through the night in the hopes of getting here in time for Midwinter.”

Geralt’s eyes narrowed. Jaskier didn’t look like he’d been riding through a storm for hours upon end. He barely looked chilled, and the flakes of snow in his hair were already melting.

Ciri released him to bounce over to the fire for a mug of wine to warm him. Jaskier swirled off his cloak with a flourish and came to greet Geralt with a kiss. “Geralt.” He eyed Yenn. “Witch.”

“Insufferable bard,” Yenn returned, though she leaned in to give Jaskier a kiss of her own, then lowered her voice. “Is all this your doing?”

“Of course it is,” he said. “You two are rubbish at anything that isn’t serious. I wasn’t going to trust you with Ciri’s first Midwinter with us. Radovid sends his greetings, by the way, and a large parcel for our feast.”

[moonlightpirate]

Meeting The Lettenhoves Chapter 2

It's finally here!!! Part one here. Masterlist here. Ao3 link here. Fic also below. Hope you guys enjoy!

The next morning Jaskier spent the whole morning packing clothes for them to wear while Geralt put some snacks together and made sure the house was tidy and ready for the week they would be gone. 

"Did you shower? You should probably shower. Maybe use my soap. It has a little better scent. I laid an outfit for you on the bed. I'll go pack the car once I'm done eating breakfast." Jaskier rambled as he got his breakfast ready.

"Why don't you join me in the shower? Make sure I use that soap." Geralt grinned as he sat down next to Jaskier.

Jaskier blushed, "dear we don't have time for that.". 

Geralt rolled his eyes and leaned over and  kissed him passionately.

"I know it'd relieve some of your stress. Also mine as well.".

"It is a 5 hour drive dear and we need to be there well before dinner so that we can get settled in our room and you can meet my parents properly. We really don't have the time. I promise I'll make it up to you." Jaskier gave Geralt one final kiss before they finished eating. 

After they finished eating they both stood up and Geralt wrapped Jaskier in his arms and kissed him. Jaskier broke free of the kiss and gave Geralt a playful shove towards the bedroom. As Geralt walked into the room he saw the outfit Jaskier laid out for him. It was a light blue tunic with a white undershirt. He left him with the option of tan pants or black pants. Geralt quickly undressed and showered, making sure to use any of Jaskiers soaps and shampoos to help make sure he didn't smell bad. After the shower Geralt opted for the black pants to make sure they matched his black leather jacket he planned to wear. 

"I love the pop of color! You should wear this color more often!" Jaskier exclaimed hugging Geralt, " also you smell amazing. Thank you, love!".

"Anything for you." Geralt kissed Jaskier one more time before they did one final check of the house and made their way out to the car. 

They drove in silence for over an hour. Geralt could tell something was still bothering Jaskier. Gently he reached over and grabbed Jaskiers hand which was lying gently on his knee. 

"Talk to me dear what's going on." Geralt brought Jaskiers hand to his lips and gently kissed the back of it. 

"I haven't been home in so long. I'm afraid of what they will say. What if this whole thing is just to see if the life I'm living is up to their standards. They think you're just a friend. I don't know what to do." Jaskier rambled. 

"Hmmmmm." Geralt mumbled, focusing on the road ahead. He didn't know Jaskier hadn't told his parents about them. It had taken him a long time to build up the courage to ask Jaskier out; he really didn't want to hide again. But he knew Jaskier was worried about what his parents thought so he didn't want to push the situation. Jaskier kept rambling until they stopped for a quick bathroom break and lunch. Once back on the road Jaskier grabbed Geralt's hand from the steering wheel and looked at him with a concerned look on his face.

"You've hardly said anything. You promised to be more open with me. What is going on in your mind?". 

"It's nothing Jaskier. I don't want you to worry.". 

"I'm going to worry. Please tell me.".

"Hmmmm. Fine. I didn't realize you never told your parents about us. I kept my feelings for you hidden for so long I don't want to do it again. But I don't want your parents hating you so there isn't much I can do.". 

"Geralt, you don't need to hide your feelings for me from them. I don't want you to! I'll deal with the consequences. I'd rather lose them than lose you.". 

"Jaskier……". 

"Don't you dare Jaskier me. I mean it. I love you.". 

"How about we take it slow then. Just act like friends for tonight…..". 

"Geralt…no I want to dance with you. What's the point of this dinner and ball if we can't dance?". 

"You're my bard sing one of the songs you wrote for me. We will dance together later after the ball.".  

Even though Geralt couldn't see Jaskiers face he knew he was pouting as he thought it all over. 

"Fine. I think I can deal with that.". 

Geralt leaned over and kissed Jaskier on the cheek real fast, "Perfect so tell me about your family. What should I expect?".

Jaskiers face lit up as he ranted about his younger years. He would occasionally show Geralt a picture on his phone of his family to go with the story he was telling. Finally they pulled up at the entrance of the Lettenhove mansion. Jaskier squeezed Geralt's hand as they parked. They grabbed their suitcases and made their way to the door. 

"Welcome home master Julian. Your parents are so excited to see you and meet your witcher friend." The doorman greeted them formally. He opened the door and gestured them in. Geralt took a deep breath before stepping in to finally meet his boyfriend's family. 

[fandom-junk-drawer]

The Witcher Headcanon (Modern AU) - Game Night

Jaskier loves music. It is his career, and he spends the majority of his days listening to it, creating it, and sharing it. It's an important part of his life that he is very passionate about.

But that doesn't mean he doesn't have other interests or things that he obsesses over. He likes games in particular. He'll sit down with Geralt and the other Witchers and play some video games, a card game, or a few rounds of pool. Sometimes he'll play a board game with Geralt, Yennefer, and Ciri.

But there is one game he gets really excited about playing. He is a huge fan of D&D. He has a custom D&D table, and has made a few diroamas. And he is obsessed with collecting dice. He follows several custom dice makers on tiktok, and is constantly showing the ones that catch his eye to Geralt, but he very rarely buys any.

Everytime he goes on a tour with his band, or goes on the Path with Geralt, he always keeps an eye out for places that might sell dice. He almost always comes back empty-handed.

He could easily buy anything he wanted, being a sucessful bard, and a Viscount, but he rarely buys anything for himself. He prefers to use his money for more sensible things, like taking care of his family, and making sure his band has what it needs. And making sure he is more fashionably dressed than Valdo Marx, because f**k him!

Yennefer doesn't understand Jaskeir's obsession with the dice. The closest she can compare it to is a magpie's obsession with shiny things.

He had been so excited when Eskel had brought him a custom made set of dice that looked like they contained small galaxies. He had hugged the Witcher, then run off, doing this weird little excited goblin run. The dice had been placed in a display box, on a special shelf in his room. He would occassionally bring them out to use for special game nights.

And he doesn't just use the dice for his games. He uses them when he and Geralt can't agree on something, or to make a decision.

Yennefer cannot acurately the describe the feeling of utter dread/panic/suspicion, or Impeding Doom that twisted up her stomach every time Jaskier hands her a die and says "Yen, quick! Roll this for me!"

Yennefer: *reluctantly rolls die*

Jaskier: "20!? Thanks, Yen!" *runs to the kitchen excitedly shouting* "Geralt! Geralt, 20!"

Yennefer *sits there internally panicking* 20 what? What was the number for? Was it 20 kittens? Was it number 20 on a list of options for snacks? Was it a destination? Was it the number of grapes Jaskier was going to try to shove up his a**??? She doesn't know. All she knows is that if Geralt starts laughing, it's going to be something cringey, stupid, dangerous, or possibly all three.

She hears them giggling in the bathroom later, and someone whispering "Stop laughing, you're making them fall out!"

Yennefer bangs on the door. "Jaskier! You better not be shoving grapes up your a**!"

"I'm not!"

*muffled giggling*

Yennefer: You better not be shoving grapes up Geralt's a**!

Geralt: *muffled giggling*

Jaskier: *disappointed whine* "Awww-! D*mn it, Geralt! Now we have to start all over!"

Yennefer decides she doesn't want to know.

She doesn't really have a great deal of interest in D&D itself, but she knows just about everything there is to know about it, thanks to the weekly game nights.

She was excited at first, listening to them talk about their campaigns the following day, but when she actually sat in on a game, she found it...tedious. Their characters,on the other hand, were interesting and creative.

For example, Jaskier's character (a Bard, of course) was just a pair of hands that (at first) communicated in a combination of sign language and rude gestures, played the lute, and made sex jokes.

His character later gained the ablity to speak by making a 'talking' motion with the hands. And proceeded to talk and argue with himself, carry on an almost non-stop Statler and Waldorf running commentary, sing, and make rude/inappropriate gestures. And try to randomly poke his companions in the a**.

His favorite spell was 'Mega B*tch Slap', which he'd made up, they'd argued about, but had ended up allowing it because 'why not?'.

The world itself was interesting, but the actual quests/adventures took forever. This was mostly because they spent the majority of their time rolling to end a parade of arguments. Most of the game was spent rolling to see if one of them would be allowed to do something.

They spent an hour at an Inn, rolling to see who the barmaid liked best.

They rolled to see who the horses liked better.

They rolled to see if Lambert could start the campaign completely hammered.

They rolled to see if one of them could fight a battle bucka** nekkid

They rolled for d*ck length.

They rolled to see if Geralt was allowed to turn himself into a horse.

They rolled for Horse Geralt's d*ck length.

Yennefer discovered that there was barely a serious moment in any of their campaigns. All manner of improbable and impractical things happened. Dead Cow Balloons, Dead Elf Boogie Board, Crab Tornado, Exploding Chickens, Bag of Singing D*cks... and the she couldn't forget the most powerful weapon ever forged. The Jabbing Stick of Instant Death. It was literally just a stick with a pointy end, but one jab and it was all over.

Yennefer did find all the absurdity and unpredictability amusing, but she just didn't have the patience for all the rolling.

Which is why she volunteered to be in charge of cooking for game night. That and she was appalled when she found out what they were eating during their gaming sessions.

Yennefer had walked into the game room with some drinks, "What the h*ll are you eating?"

"Grilled Cheese Sandwiches and Tomato Soup?" Jaskier had said, casually stirring his soup.

"That's not-! Those are cheese puffs floating in, in tomato sauce!"

"I put some of that chicken powder stuff in it,"

"That's not tomato soup! Or grilled cheese!"

"But it's like tomato soup and grilled cheese." Jaskier replied.

Yennefer turned at the sound of a plastic water bottle crinkling, and saw Geralt squeeze a mushy white substance into his mouth, then follow it up with a handful of shredded cheese straight from the bag. "Geralt! What the-!"

"Baked potato," Eskel explained, shaking some instant mashed potato flakes into his water bottle, letting Geralt heat the water in it with Igni, then shaking it.

Lambert glared at her, daring her to say anything about the bowl of pizza rolls covered in so much ranch dressing that he was eating them with a spoon.

There was a soft scrape of a plastic spoon against metal. Coen was eating Spaghetii-O's right out of the can.

"You all eat like f***ing stoners!!! I'm going to make you some real food!"

From then on, Yennefer cooked for them on game nights. It was simple fare, mostly things that made her feel like she was feeding a pack of children.

Dinosaur chicken nuggets, macaroni, and cheese, hotdogs, etc. But they never complained about it. In fact, they seemed excited about the food. Especailly one dish that she discovered was their favorite.

Jaskier had walked into the kitchen for some drinks, saw the cans and the hotdogs on the counter, and gone bolting back to the game room, with an excited whoop of, "F**K YEAH, BEANIE WEENIES!!!"

Sometimes, if Jaskier hadn't been too aggravating that week, Yennefer would make tavern food for them, to kind of fit the theme of their game.

Yennefer would leave them to their game and go about her evening, then curl up with her old cat plush, Sammy, and go to sleep. Sometimes she would have to make a trip to the game room to yell at them to be quiet.

And in the morning, she was woken up by The Ritual of The Most Holy Burrito. Every morning following a game night, five grown-a** men would microwave breakfast burritos, hold them over their heads, and dance through the living room while singing every verse of the sacred hymn "Yum Yum Breakfast Burritos".

She started leaving blankets and pillows on the couch after she'd gone in one morning after a game night and found them all sleeping scattered around the room and using various items as blankets.

Lambert was using a week-old pizza box someone had forgot to throw away.

Coen was under the gaming table.

Geralt and Jaskier were using Eskel.

Yennefer had started a collection of Game Night Aftermath photos that she regularly shared with Madeleine when they would go out on their Girls Only Days.

Unless the photo was so extraordinarily humorous or adorable that she would text it to her immediately.

Like the photo of Jaskier using Eskel's a** as a pillow.

Or the picture of Geralt passed out on the game table with his tits out.

And the assorted photos of shirtless Witchers in cuddle piles

Yennefer decides that game nights aren't so bad after all.

[finleycannotdraw]

🌹🌹🌹

thank you!!! you sent three emojis so I’m giving you three little snippets<3

1.

“Okay, I have to give that to him,” Fiebron says to Arnolf, who smacks him. “Seriously, witcher, we’re just curious. We knew Jaskier when he was fifteen and stupid.”

“Now he’s twenty-five and stupid,” the witcher replies. “Go away.”

“What’s your horse’s name?” Arnolf asks.

“Roach,” says the witcher. “Go away.”

“Why’d you name her that?”

“Felt like it. Go away.”

“Why’d—”

“Go away.”

“Fine, fine, whatever,” Fiebron sighs. “Guess we can go torture it out of Jaskier.”

A fist slams into the wall in front of his face, and he shrieks. Geralt is now looming over him, glaring like he means it. Arnolf is the only thing stopping Fiebron from wilting into the hay.

“If you touch my bard, I will have your skin on a clothesline within the hour,” he growls.

—

Fiebron and Arnolf are two ocs of mine for this fic! They’re bards who were Jaskier’s old classmates and they have absolutely zero braincells. To use another quote from Jaskier later in the fic, “those two couldn’t harm a fruit fly if you have them a sledgehammer.” if you want to know more about them feel free to ask!!

2.

“Go to sleep, Jaskier.”

“Oh,” Jaskier says surprisedly. “I thought, you know, since you’re angry with me and all, that you’d be chomping at the bit to get me up before the roosters and get back on the road.”

Geralt doesn’t open his eyes. “Don’t be stupid.”

“Right,” Jaskier whispers, and Geralt can hear him shuffling to get comfortable, still on his back. Just when he thinks the bard has drifted off, he pipes up again: “Which part was stupid, exactly?”

“Hm,” Geralt says, and then, “the part where I’m angry with you.”

Jaskier is silent, and Geralt’s cursing himself, and then Jaskier’s face is shoved into his neck, his body pressed up to Geralt’s. It’s an awkwardly sideways attempt at a hug, but Jaskier smells relieved and tired and something else, and—

He’s rolling away again, suddenly, as though Geralt’s touch burned him, as though Geralt’s touch contains the same violence as the princess’s outburst at dinner. Geralt wants, desperately, to reach over and pull him back, but he forces himself to stillness and does his very best to ignore the sound of Jaskier’s heart, beating within arms’ reach, racing away but never gaining any distance.

In the morning they wake up tangled up in each other’s limbs, as they both knew they would. Jaskier, spitting Geralt’s hair out of his mouth, is brushing his own out of his face as he sits up, not quite blocking the sunbeams from spearing directly into Geralt’s eyes. They don’t talk about the previous night. Roach is mocking him as they disembark, but Geralt ignores her, and ignores her even harder when Jaskier offers her an apple.

He also ignores how he starts craving Jaskier’s touch after that night. Hopefully it will go away.

(It doesn’t.)

—

tl;dr they’re stupid!

aaaannnndd 3.

“You should know better than to run off without telling me,” she scolds.

“Bye Mister Witcher! Bye Mister Jaskier!” she yells over her mother’s shoulder. “I love your horse! And your hair flowers!”

Jaskier waves, and Geralt looks extremely disgruntled.

“Mama, put me down,” she demands. “I can walk on my own.”

“I don’t want you getting hurt,” her mother sighs, setting her down. “You shouldn’t walk up to strangers in the street like that, honey. Especially not witchers.”

“But he was nice,” she protests. “His husband was putting flowers in his hair! He let me pet his horse!”

“His… husband?”

“The man who writes all of the songs about him!” Marcy doesn’t understand the big deal about the witcher having a husband. She’d figured her mother, who has a husband herself, would understand the decision.

—

Marcy (and her mom) are other ocs for this fic. Marcy is a friendly 7-year-old who approaches Geralt and Jaskier at a market.

thanks for the ask! I love talking about my writing and I love these idiots :)

[lost-ghost-of-kaer-morhen]

Dandelion and Geralt were sitting in the tavern. Dandelion was upset. His mind was plagued with the thought of upcoming separation with Geralt. He was stirring the soup he was eating. The bowl was still full.

"Hey, bard! Not singing, not dancing. You really need to cheer up,yeah? "A woman came to their table. She put her hands on Dandelion's shoulders. The poet didn't look up,still stirring the soup." Leave him alone, " Geralt said across the table. "Your poet is really sad. A good night with a beautiful girl will help him," Woman bent down and kissed Dandelion's check. He twitched and opened his mouth to say something, but Geralt was faster. " Leave him alone, woman! He clearly not interested,". "Fine," she sighed and left them. The boys were sitting in silence for several more minutes. "Perhaps we should order another bowl of soup. Yours is definitely cold...." Geralt tried to sound cheerfully. He really wanted to help Dandelion, to say something helpful. But he didn't know how. Dandelion had always been the talkative one. He would know what to do. Geralt sighted and ordered another bowl. Local musicians started to play a slow, romantic melody. Geralt looked at dancing couples and came up with the idea. He returned to the table and bent a little bit with outstretched hand. "Let me have the pleasure of asking you to dance, Master Dandelion,". Dandelion looked at him and couldn't help smiling. He placed his delicate hand in Geralt's. Several minutes later, they were dancing together. Dandelion laid his head on Geralt's shoulder and closed eyes. Geralt hugged him tighter. "What is plaguing your pretty mind, flower?" Geralt whispered.Dandelion was silent. Just huged the witcher tighter. "Don't want to part with your beloved witcher?" Geralt grinned. He kissed Dandelion's head. Then whispered into the poet's ear." Would you like to go to Kaer Morhen this winter? ". "Geralt! ". Dandelion looked at Geralt. "Don't tease me, witcher! I'm suffering and my best friend made such a cruel joke!". "If you don't stop yelling, it will be a joke." Dandelion was silent again. Completely confused. Geralt smiled softly,took Dandelion's hand, and led him to their room. He locked the door and window. Put Dandelion on the bed and sat down very close. "I spoke with Vesemir, and he agreed. The others didn't mind as well. I have been preparing things for this journey for two winters. If you want, you can go to Kaer Morhen," Geralt whispered, holding Dandelion's hand. "I want! I want to join! It is the greatest honour! Thank you, Geralt! "Dandelion put his hands around Geralt's neck. "Dandelion, calm down, please. I need you to know one last thing,". "What is it? "." I want you to swear with your life that you will never tell,make a song about Kaer Morhen, its location, witcher's traditions and habits. And if you want to do so,please do it after my or Vesemir's permission,". "I swear! I will never tell! No one will know! Ooh Geralt! I'm soo happy that I won't part with you!" He hugged Geralt." I was afraid of another lonely winter without you. Thank you, my dear witcher! " Dandelion had been talking for several hours. Geralt answered his questions and tried to calm down his poet. Dandelion woke Geralt three times at night to ask or say some very important things that can't wait till morning, Geralt. The witcher was slightly annoyed but pleased after all. The winter full of night talks, stolen blankets, and sneaky cuddles was awaiting him. Geralt was the happiest man. He hugged Dandelion and pressed him to his chest. "I love you so much, my feral flower. " He kissed Dandelion's head several times, then took poet's face in his hands and kissed it many many times. Calmed and satisfied poet was laing on Geralt's chest, twisting a chain of the witcher's medallion between his fingers. Then he fell asleep.Geralt fell asleep, cuddling his little bird

[magic-multicolored-miracle]

The Witcher S3 Ep 3: Reunion AKA 🎵Everyyyyybody Huuuuuurts🎵

I think the metaphor might be getting away from you a bit

I really like her outfit. It is my kind of look

I love that Jaskier calls him "Firefingers." It's very in line with Yen's (and my) "Firefucker." And asshole doesn't deserve a name.

Sorry did you say "a friend of your mother's"?!

Aww, the adorant whisper. Because it's once again proved that Geralt is a big old softie.

Wait, that's news? I assumed she had been for a while (tbh I thought the ditching Geralt was to protect him from something or someone that was going to kill her)

So someone else did exactly what the two information brokers said Geralt should, with added mind altering...was the suggestion meant to be a tip off, since they knew he wouldn't take it in the first place?

I really like Philippa's outfit for this meeting, and the fact that it is very clearly Not Matching the general Redanian aesthetic. The costume department this season is really Killing It. (Interestingly, it is matching, or at least similar to Jaskier's...)

He does seem stressed. His poor head is going to explode. I wonder whose fault that is?

Radovid, baby, that's not a very good attempt at hiding.

Oh it was on purpose for The Drama™ I love that

This is quite the Reason You Suck speech, Yennefer. Are you actually trying to get back into the Brotherhood's, or Tissaia's good graces at all? Part of me hopes not, honestly

Oh 💔 I mean, we knew that. But the look on Yen's face hearing it out loud...

Fabio, you're there to chaperone a teenage girl at a market, not barker like a hotdog on a street corner 🙄

How did that secret get out? Was it Yennefer? I bet it was Yennefer

I like that the captions specify it's to the tune of The Wild Rover. Otherwise I'd have heard it and gone nuts. (That song was the bane of my existence last fall.)

Istredd, my friend. You're looking Rough. But it...kinda works for you?

That's. Not ideal...

Poor General Kicked-Puppy, I'm glad he gets an invite home, even though home is not a good place...

"Prove it" doesn't sound good. There's an implied threat in "prove it"

Always with the leaning, Jaskier (and with the unbuttoned vest, it's peak casual yet slutty or maybe that's just the bard wearing it)

He's not wrong but also I hate him for saying it. I don't like that.

I think this might be the longest and most frank conversation these two have ever had. 10/10 relationship growth

Well shit. Stregobitch? Or Vilgefortz?

Uh. What?

Double "well shit". Or hopefully just almost. But I have a bad feeling about Anika's fate...

I love Ciri just strolling in behind the barker's back without paying or being challenged

Who are these two? They feel important

Go Fabio!

Can we form a secondary party of these youngins? I think I like them. And maybe recruit Dara back, eventually. (That would basically just be your average D&D party but that's not a negative)

Dammit Sabrina. Why are you a bitch? Didn't Yennefer almost die saving your fucking life from Nilfgaard?

My babies! Stop hurting each other! You both need hugs, stat!

Oh look, and now Geralt's hurting too.

Oh shit. I didn't expect the Queen to die. That's a ballsy move Philippa. But a solid way to make sure your king doesn't ever trust Nilfgaard, if it works.

Was Dijkstra in on it though? I'm not sure...

Radovid. Do NOT call a sneaky murdering bastard out on being a sneaky murdering bastard WHILE YOU ARE ALONE IN A ROOM WITH HIM! I swear to god, if you get yourself killed...(I know it doesn't happen yet, but that doesn't mean it won't later)

I don't like that almost-smile from Firefucker. Whatever his demand is, it isn't going to be fun...

Good to see Francesca getting back to her roots (and doting husband Filavandrel is pretty nice) but I have the uncomfortable feeling she'll get her wish...

You seem on edge Cahir. What are you about to do?

Well, rip. I was just starting to like that guy. But why?

Running away, completely alone. Seems like a bad plan even for Ciri, so I'm going to guess this is a dream...

Eredin? Why do I know that name? [Oh, cus I actually watched Blood Origin. I didn't think I retained anyone's name, but I guess I did]

Is Ciri's appearance and her being "death itself" a play on the whole "death came riding on a pale horse" or whatever it is? Or coincidence?