#geralt is soft for jaskier

[spielzeugkaiser]

They have sleepy cuddles! Geralt is probably drooling. Ciri under the cut!

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 139

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

[whumpypepsigal]

#besties

[annmarcus63]

The thing is that nothing is the same, not after Lambert pointed out, in a deeply impolite manner, that Jaskier, despite his best efforts, is Geralt's whore. But no, it couldn't be, could it? They have been together for over eight years now. Yes, they sort of broke up on the mountain but they're back together now, aren't they? 

But the real problem here is not the years but the way Geralt treats their relationship. In fact, Lambert has helped him to open his eyes. 

How he treats Yen and how he treats him.

The truth is that Jaskier has made peace with the fact that he'll always be second best. That Geralt lo... cares for him but not as he cares for her. 

They say that the evil is in the details.

Geralt shows no affection to him outside the bedroom. Geralt is distant, and this has never bothered him, because he always thought that Geralt was like that with everyone else. 

He never touches him, not a pat on the arm, not a caress on the cheek, just like he's doing it now with Yen. Geralt never looks at him like that, with so much fervor and devotion. 

He doesn't even look at him like that in the bedroom, not even when the witcher is fucking into him and whispering how good he feels.

So Jaskier starts an experiment. He won't look for Geralt, he'll just wait and see. 

And oh, how he observes the unspoken words of love that Geralt holds back everytime Yen is nearby. How he'll reach out to her, only to feel her, and the way he leans closer to smell her perfume, lilacs and gooseberries. 

He wonders if Jaskies smells good to him. 

Geralt catches him looking at them, a longing expression on his face surely, and sends him a quizzical look but Jaskier shrugs it off, as if his entire heart wasn't weeping. 

And Jaskier is afraid to ask, first of all, Geralt has never reacted well to Jaskier's serious talks, so... yeah, he's afraid. 

But of course, how could he be anything more than a bed warmer when it took him twelve years to get the witcher's attention. It only took Yen an hour for Geralt to fall head over heels in love with her. 

Days passed and Jaskier stood staring at the ceiling of his bedroom waiting for Geralt, tears trickled down his pillow as he heard him pass towards Yen's room.

[kuwdora]

@perseruna I LISTENED!! I MANIFESTED!!

the lion, the witch, and the audacity of this bitch geralt/jaskier/yennefer ~6k, explicit. d/s, sexual roleplay, banter, erotic massage. more tags on ao3.

Trouble is afoot and it will be a long evening for the White Knight.

The White Knight has been in the Queen’s service for more than half his life. He currently stands beside her royal majesty in the throne room, bearing witness to the thorn in the Queen’s side. A thorn he will be called upon to remove.

Whether he was pushing miscreants from the kingdom with his blade, doling out punishments on behalf of the Queen, or sating her majesty’s sexual desires, the White Knight fulfilled his responsibilities every day of his life. However such consistency was not common in all of the Queen's loyal subjects.

This spy in particular, a faun with broad shoulders and a nervous smile, a tufted little goatee and soft, folded ears. He has a penchant for distracting the castle guards with jovial questions about their favorite snacks. He has often derailed the White Knight's retinue from their duties with gossip from the latest winter festival.

Mr. Tammus had come into the Queen’s service only a few short years ago. The White Knight had been on assignment looking for allies to enlist to the Queen’s service. He’d ventured into the western mountains, seeking the brawn of a clan of minotaurs. It was there that he discovered Mr. Tammus beguiling the clan leader and her grandfather with a musical jig. Mr. Tammus had accidentally broken a curse that had fouled their young with human-features. Mr. Tammus could have asked for anything from the grateful clan but instead requested only shelter and their undivided attention while he performed his latest song.

Upon witnessing Mr. Tammus’ charm on the minotaurs firsthand, the White Knight knew the faun would prove useful for the Queen’s service.

Tammus indeed proved to be a valuable asset with eyes and ears in the community and borderlands, able to strike up friendships all due to his cherub-like face and penchant for outlandish tales that could enchant anyone with ears. He found secrets and gossip in the unlikeliest of places that was useful to the Queen and her royal guard.

Yet there are times where the faun’s flightiness has tested the Queen's patience.

Which is why Mr. Tammus is currently on his knees and bowing, snowmelt slipping from his hair onto the floor. read on ao3

[artistsfuneral]

Geralt is imprisoned, waiting to be trialed by the local Duchess, when the cell door opens and Jaskier appears, teasing him for getting into trouble again. Geralt, who certainly wasn't expecting to see his friend, asks why it's him and not the Duchess, to which Jaskier replies something like "Goodness Geralt, that woman is 64 years old, you can't really expect her to travel to town every time a prisoner needs to be judged!" Which no, of course not, most of the time it wouldn't even fall into a aristocrats responsibilities at all, but given the fact that Jaskier is currently leading him out of his cell, Geralt is hardly in a position to argue. But Jaskier is here now, no matter how unexpected the situation is, and there is a carriage waiting for them and Geralt blindly follows his friend into it. Surely Jaskier knows what he's doing.

The bard is babbling as always, when he complains that Geralt rudely interrupted tea time with the Duchess and naturally the witcher assumes that Jaskier is having an affair with her. When he tries to tease Jaskier about it (Jaskier that poor woman is 64!) the bard stops, stares and breaks into loud laughter. Turns out Jaskier was spending some quality time with his Grandmother.

When they arrive at the estate and tea time can resume, including Geralt, he discovers that she's teaching Jaskier how to knit and crochet. At the end of the day, the witcher knows how to as well. :)

[jaskier-more-like-saskier]

can we talk about Geralt breaking Riences hands. Was it because he burned Jaskiers hand probably not but i live in my delusions and think yes.

[olliethewallflower]

[my-jokes-are-my-armour]

Jaskier has abs of steel

Bonus : geraskier and yennskier similar soft kicks

[spielzeugkaiser]

Kind of a second part to this - inspired by a convo I had with @panur in the replies! Ciri comes to them for cuddles and at this point Geralt is 100% awake, but Jaskier handles it all rather well.

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Witchers have their own set of courting traditions. One of these traditions is to present a token from a particularly difficult hunt to their intended.

When they were lovers, Geralt had carved Yennefer a pendant from the tusk of a basilisk.

Years after that relationship crashed and burned, Geralt realized his feelings for Jaskier. Geralt wanted to court Jaskier, but he knew he needed to match or top the token he had given Yennefer. Otherwise, his commitment could be questioned.

Then, Geralt got the brilliant idea to hunt a series of monsters for Jaskier, using components from each to make one grand gift.

THIS IS SO GAY I LOVEEE ITTT No thim making a lil outfit for his boyfriend with lil bits and bobs made from monsters and beasts omg

[irrlicht-writes]

dandelions

“If ever I’d be reborn, I’d like to be a flower,” the bard says, while gently sitting in a field, picking flowers for no reason really. Geralt sits not too far from him, keeping an eye on Roach so that she might not eat too many flowers and sour her stomach.

“Hm,” the Witcher replies, not knowing what to say.

“Think about it,” the bard continues undeterred, “as a flower, I could waive in the wind, dance under the sun and sing of worlds yet to come.”

“You sing plenty now,” the Witcher reminds him, “why not sing of those worlds now?”

The bard laughs, and it’s a clear, bright sound, and it engulfs the entire valley.

“If I sang of those worlds now, darling Witcher,” he plucks another flower, deep violet, and adds it to his ever-growing bouquet, “they would all tell me to shut up and sing the coin song again.”

“We both hate the coin song.”

“Indeed we do! It’s the price of fame, although I’d wish they would have forgotten it by now. I haven’t even sung it in ages! I’ve written catchier refrains.”

The Witcher snorts. “You have? I must have missed them.”

The bard throws some flowers in the Witcher’s general direction but as flowers do, they all fall to the ground before ever hitting their target. “I am wounded,” the Witcher says tonelessly, for nothing but mocking purposes. The bard huffs and turns his attention back to his flowers.

“If ever I’d be reborn,” the bard says again, “I’d like to be a flower.”

“Hm,” the Witcher replies again, not knowing what to say.

“Think about it,” the bard continues undeterred yet again, “as a flower, they would not hear me sing at all. But if they could hear me on the wind, they would love me all the more.”

“They love you plenty now, hearing you sing already.”

The bard laughs again, like the Witcher does not understand.

“No, my love, they do not. Oh they love me, yes, my prancing and my singing, and my flirting, and my twirling, but me, they love not. If I were not to sing, not to prance, not to flirt, not to twirl, not to joy their hearts for coin – they would take no interest in me. Another washed up wanderer on the road, they’d say! Throw him some mouldy bread and hope he brings no plague with him!”

“I’ve not met a many washed up wanderers brave enough to follow me into the fray.”

The bard smiles then, a whispered little thing the Witcher almost did not see. Roach wanders around, sniffing the different flowers and yet, she had eaten not a single one of them.

A pleasant silence befalls them in the valley, as the bard continues to pick more flowers – who he is picking them for, the Witcher does not know. The bard does things sometimes that make no sense, because he wants to. The Witcher has learned to accept this, and this is a pleasant thing to do, a pleasant place to rest.

“If ever I’d be reborn,” the bard starts again, “I’d like to be a flower.”

“Hm,” the Witcher replies once more, because it is tradition now, not knowing what to say.

“Think about it,” the bard continues – as per tradition – undeterred, “as a flower, mayhap a dandelion, I could be carried by the wind, being carried to where I need to go.”

“You travel plenty now,” the Witcher says, “no need to be carried by the wind.”

“That might be true, dear heart, and yet! How limited are we, bound to the ground beneath our feet, the saddle of a horse? The wind! The wind knows no limit, crescending into a storm. And! Darling Witcher, how would we know where we’re needed? We can only travel so far, see so many places. What if we’d be needed in the other direction? How would we know?!”

“All we can do is move forwards, bard. We do our best where we can.”

The bard plucks his last flower and turns to the Witcher. In his arms, he holds all the flowers he picked – colourful and pretty, a plenty a piece. In his hand, he holds a dandelion, with its seed ready to be carried away.

“That we do, my love. That we do.”

He looks at the dandelion in his hand, and the wind plays gently with his hair.

Quietly, he blows and the dandelion seeds get picked up by the wind.

The Witcher and the Bard look after them until they are out of sight.

Then, they move on to the next town, and the bard plays music in the tavern. He prances, and sings, and flirts, and twirls, and they love him.

Many, many years later, Geralt comes across a field of flowers.

In it sits a boy, picking flowers.

He notices Geralt from a distance, and looks up, waves, and grins brightly like the sun. He wears a flower crown made of buttercups and dandelions.

“If ever I’d be reborn,” the bard whispers quietly, “I’d like to be a flower.”

[identity-404]

I need more of Geralt looking at Jaskier softly. Looking at him like he hung the stars in the night sky.

I also need more of Jaskier being confused every time Geralt looks at him this way, like he panics thinking there's something on his face or his hair is a mess. Not understanding that people can stare at him lovingly.

[annmarcus63]

It took him two years to realize that he was hopelessly in love with Geralt. And within a few months he decided to try his luck with the witcher, but he knew that he had to be careful with his advances, that he had to be cautious and cunning so as not to scare him away. He wanted to win Geralt's heart and the first steps were to make sure that he could really win, if not the love, then at least the affection of the witcher. 

Jaskier begins with gentle touches, his hand brushing against the other's, and increases the affection in the massages and hair washes he offers Geralt.  Followed by intent glances and coquettish smiles, but not too coquettish, he wants to let Geralt know that he's interested in more, much more than just a roll in the hay. 

Eventually Jaskier gets bolder. One afternoon, Geralt is leading Roach by the reins on the road and he approaches him as casually as possible to chat about... he honestly can't remember, and with a quick movement he grabs Geralt's hand as if he had done it a hundred times before. Geralt tenses and looks at him, panic and uncertainty in his golden eyes, the bard knows that feeling, so he smiles shyly at him feeling afraid too. Geralt snorts in annoyance, but doesn't pull his hand back. He just leaves it there, relaxed.

Then, the kissing started, forehead kisses that Jaskier placed upon Geralt's frown when he's particularly upset about a contract or with people. The witcher leans at the contact sometimes. So, one night Jaskier looks at Geralt's pretty lips and leans slowly, until their breaths are mingling with each other, mmh the witcher smells so good. 

Geralt grunts and turns around to make space between them, almost imperceptible, their thighs no longer touching. “Sorry,” Says, Jaskier. It's ok. 

But then, Geralt closes the small gap again and turns back to him, his eyes downcast almost ashamed. Jaskier smiles strangely charmed and leans in to touch his lips briefly with Geralt's, a small touch full of longing and love, so much love. Geralt tries to escape once again, but the bard doesn't let him this time, with both hands he takes the other's face to plant kisses like seeds on his nose, each cheekbone, each closed eye. The witcher trembles under his fingerprints, but the bard soothes him with "shh, I've got you".

They don't go further than that, Jaskier can feel the way Geralt is holding himself back, to wanting what is being offered with such devotion. He's not ready but that's ok, Jaskier'll wait for him as long as it takes. For him, only for him.

Geralt makes a stupid wish that sends him into a blurry reality of pain and confusion, his throat hurts, will he lose his voice? There's apple juice and naked people, a proud woman in a black dress, gods she's gorgeous, almost every sorceress is, but she has something special that Jaskier doesn't like. 

He understands what it is about, when he encounters a frantic Geralt at the gate, he fears for her, he likes her, he...likes her. 

It took him eight years to hold Geralt's hand while walking, it took him ten years to kiss him, but in spite of his unmeasurable efforts he could not achieve what Yennefer did in one day. Maybe his naivete condemned him to misread the signs, maybe it wasn't that Geralt wasn't ready to love someone, maybe he wasn't ready to love Jaskier, at all.

Full fic here

[darklyhandsome]

What if, every day, Jaskier makes Geralt stand in front of a mirror and repeat every single compliment Jaskier can think of to describe Geralt. Until the day he actually starts to believe them.

[artistsfuneral]

Sure, I'm game!

How about something cozy? Give me Geralt falling asleep on Jaskier. Maybe the same rules about not moving when cats fall asleep on you count towards Witchers- they trust you enough to sleep on you, so clearly you can't move. You are trapped, alas.

Ooh yesss ✨❤️

softe Geralt/Jaskier, napping

It is something that happens so rarely that Geralt still calls it unbelievable in his head, but every now and then Jaskier will tire himself out.

Usually it's in the summer, when the days are much longer, much warmer and Jaskier has spent hours being a bundle of energy, jumping around, singing and babbling on and on about anything and everything. When all his feelings of joy and excitement and his lust for adventures have been loudly exclaimed at the sky, Jaskier will feel content. Save warm and happy. The world around him buzzing just loud enough to provide the sort of stimulation the back of his brain needs.

And then he will get sleepy. And he will always and without fail, find a way to fall asleep on Geralt. It never lasts longer than a nap, but with Jaskier's head bedded on his thighs or his cheek squished against the witcher's shoulder, a tingling feeling will start inside Geralt's stomach and slowly spread across his entire body, filling it with warmth and happiness.

He too will be content.