#geraskeir fic

[anyanpre]

Bad Geraskier ideas my brain decides to present me with, take #3, still pain:

What if Jaskier’s family, finding out how Geralt fucked up their Julek left him on the mountain alone after 22 YEARS OF “FRIENDSHIP”, decided to enact revenge on the witcher.

Geralt taking contract in Lettenhove and being utterly confused why local noble Pankratz hates him beyond usual anti-witcher bigotry and why said noble feels familiar, while Geralt is sure he never met them — he never even been in Lettenhove before. Because yeah, Geralt is that kind of an idiot to forget Jaskier’s birth name and title, and he doesn’t realize that familiarity he feels is family fucking resemblance.

Geralt, returning from a contract, only to be ambushed, locked up and tortured — and not even knowing why, because his captor explicitly said he isn’t interested in selling him to Nilfgaard and won’t get an innocent child involved.

Geralt, being rescued by Jaskier, who’s extremely crossed with his family now, because WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK. No, really, what the actual fuck.

Jaskier, caring for Geralt’s wounds, helping him to get back on his feet, but also being outwardly detached and cold. Because he’s still hurt, because he doesn’t want to be hurt again, because he can’t even truly accept Geralt’s apology — he can’t be sure if it’s sincere, or if Geralt’s mind still a little bit fucked up after whole torture dungeon bullshit and Geralt is just latching onto the first kind anything he had in weeks.

Geralt, wanting nothing more but get his the bard back, but not knowing what to do, thinking that he fucked it all up beyond repair and that the only reason Jaskier is even here is that he feels responsible for actions of his family. Geralt, thinking that Jaskier truly hates him, but is too good of a man to just leave him like that, weak, injured and defenseless.

Geralt, thinking that he truly deserved that torture, and Jaskier being utterly terrified of this.

Jaskier, getting ready to leave Geralt for good when he thinks the witcher recovered enough and Geralt desperately asking him to stay.

[respectwomenjuice]

oky okay im looking for a geraskier fic on ao3 where after the mountain witcher!jaskier takes up the path again and he and geralt end up on the same contract? i think ciri may have been there?

[typicalopposite]

The internal tug of war to write a heavily angsty fic but also sprinkle in just enough fluff to cleanse the palate… but I want it to feel like a gut punch… but also like a forehead kiss… and I want it to hurt sooo bad, but have such a happy ending.

You know?

[sapphyshipseverything]

Chapters: 30/? Fandom: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Eskel & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Lambert, Eskel & Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion & Lambert Characters: Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Lambert (The Witcher), Eskel (The Witcher) Additional Tags: Miscommunication, Past Rape/Non-con, Dubious Consent, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Misunderstandings, Power Imbalance, Unintended power dynamics, Mentions of past abuse, Mentions of Starvation, there will be comfort eventually I swear, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Food Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, intermittent braincell reception, also should probably have had this already, Slow Burn, Dissociation, partially inspired by ‘Seeking Shelter’ by sphagnum Series: Part 1 of Out of Shyness or Shame Summary:

Seeing no other alternatives before him, the witchers really are his best bet at surviving the winter at this point, as much as Jaskier wishes it wasn’t so.

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

Braid, Curl, Flatten, and Pin

projection? dont know her. 

pairing: geralt and jaskier 

content warnings: jask is upset by an insult to his music? hair braiding? its pretty fluffy and soft ngl

__________________

Geralt took a deep breath, measuring his inhale, pause, and exhale, as he tried to meditate despite Jaskier’s pacing. The bard had taken a well-aimed and rather sharp insult to his music the morning before and he clearly wasn’t letting it go. He’d poured over his notebook full of verse the night before and refused to pick up his lute all the next day, so all his nervous energy was channeled into pacing and angry muttering. The witcher knew better than to interrupt him, having learned his lesson the first time he tried to tell Jaskier to relax. He simply had to wait it out or hope the bard would find a decent distraction. 

His ears pricked up when Jaskier’s feet stilled directly behind him. For a moment Jaskier just stood there, Geralt guessed he was picking at his nails but he couldn’t know for sure. 

“Could- Geralt, would you let me braid your hair?”

Without opening his eyes Geralt humed a hesitant response, “You know how to braid?”

Jaskier scoffed and Geralt imagined him putting a hand on his hip, “I had five older sisters. I can not only braid, but curl, flatten, and pin your hair into a style that would survive even a difficult contract.” 

“Hmmm…”

After a brief silence, Jaskier ran his fingers through the ends of Geralt’s hair. He just barely touched it, realistically he probably only brushed the strands to the side, but Geralt had to stifle a shiver all the same. 

“Can I? It's calming to have something to do with my hands,” Jaskier explained, “I wont be offended if you hate it, I promise.”

“If it stops your pacing…” Geralt sighed, feigning more reluctance than he felt. 

He vaguely remembered the last time Jaskier played with his hair. They had both been drunk as skunks and lounging about in the evening summer heat but the warmth of Jaskier’s lap under Geralt’s head hadn’t bothered him at all. The light tugs at his hair and fingers massaging his scalp was just as intoxicating as the wine and he’d fallen asleep with his head on Jaskier’s thighs. 

Feeling Jaskier’s fingers tug the tie from his hair and gently comb through it was an entirely different experience while sober.

The tugs at knots stung a bit more, but Geralt was also acutely aware of every little maneuvering touch and every brush of the bard’s hand over his shoulders. He told himself Jaskier was just moving his hair, it wasn’t some secret indulgence like Geralt hoped. Regardless, his heartbeat picked up so quickly he almost failed to notice the bard’s slowing until they met at a nearly even pace. 

As he worked at untangling, Jaskier shuffled less and less, settling into a stillness Geralt had yet to witness of the bard. When he started sectioning Geralt’s hair he began to hum, bringing the ghost of a smile to Geralt’s lips. He made a mental note of how quickly it calmed his traveling companion but didn’t dare say anything. 

The actual braiding sensations had a very rhythmic quality to them, a gentle tug, a finger tracing a line against Geralt’s scalp, another gentle tug, and repeat. Soon enough Geralt felt himself settling into a meditative state, more relaxed than he had been all week. 

Right when he thought Jaskier was done, he released the braid and picked it apart only to start over again. He did this several times and even if he was a bit confused, Geralt was grateful. He didn’t think he could ask Jaskier to do it again, no matter how much he loved it.

[restmyheadatnightcontent]

hugging 10 + kisses 48 for geraskefer or geraskier?? thank you!

thank you for the wonderful prompt lovely anon! in my head this is geraskefer although this is more geraskier focused. hope you enjoy!

cw: mentions of death, injury and blood

10. Hiding their face in the other’s neck & 48. Kisses with trembling lips

He lowers his sword, the final soldier falling to the ground in front of him, and he turns to see how the rest of his companions fare.

Yennefer seems to be fine, trembling slightly after having used her chaos to dismiss most of their attackers. The burns on her hands are still raw, and he knows she has been struggling with her chaos, but he meets her eyes and she gives him a small nod.

I’m fine.

He takes just a moment more, to content himself that she really is alright, before he moves towards the two other members of their party.

Ciri appears to be unharmed, but he can see her shaking, from where she is tucked behind Jaskier, clutching at his doublet, this attack no doubt reminding her of what she saw in Cintra, the events playing again and again in her mind.

He sees Yennefer move towards Ciri and take the girl into her arms, and she sends him a look over her head, before nodding her head towards Jaskier. He can hear the whispered comforts Yennefer is whispering to Ciri as the girl cries into her shoulder and knowing she is safe, he moves towards the bard.

“Jaskier,” he says softly “It’s alright. We’re safe now.”

He says the words, but he is not sure that Jaskier can hear them. He is stood rigid, dagger clutched tightly in his hand, and his eyes are darting around, frantically searching the trees for invisible enemies. The bard is covered in blood, which thankfully doesn’t seem to be his own, but it is still a jarring sight, seeing the colourful blue doublet coated in crimson. He can hear Jaskiers frantic heartbeat, and the way his breath comes a little too fast.

Geralt steps forward, over the body of the solider that had been on the end of Jaskiers blade, and comes to stand in front of Jaskier.

“Jaskier,” he says again, moving to wrap his hand around Jaskiers, around the fingers gripping the knife. “They’re gone. We’re safe. Come back.”

Jaskier trembles in his grip, his eyes still distant, but then Geralt can see the moment that the fog clears in the bards head.

“Geralt?” Jaskier asks, voice faint. “I don’t – I—” His words trail off as he catches sight of the body laying at their feet and the chaos around them.

“I don’t – Geralt I can’t – I didn’t—” Jaskier’s voice shakes and the knife slips from his fingers and falls to the ground with a dull thud.

Geralt can sense the panic building in the bard, and he pulls him forward into his arms. He can feel Jaskier bury his face in his neck, eyes tightly closed, and breath hitching. Geralt just holds him, aware of the worried eyes watching them, and lets Jaskier cry softly into his shoulder. It isn’t the first time Jaskier has had to use his knife, but he still never finds it any easier, and Geralt is almost jealous. He was the same way, once, but he has become hardened by the path, and he no longer feels it so strongly.

Eventually, Jaskiers sobs have quietened and Geralt pulls back slightly to press their lips together. Jaskier is still shaking slightly, and he can feel the tremble in his lips, but he seems steadier now.

Geralt rests their foreheads together. “It’s okay. We’re all okay.”

Jaskier gives a small nod, closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, trying to ground himself.

He has no doubt that it will hit Jaskier hard again, when they have made it somewhere safe, when he has time to face what he has done.

But now, he is happy to wait and let Jaskier lean on him and gather his strength.

For this, he has all the time in the world.

send me a touch prompt!

[caramelo7dulce]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, The Witcher (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion Additional Tags: monster kink, Shameless Smut, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Jaskier is a Monster Fucker, Possessive Behavior, Don't Try This At Home, Feral Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Possessive Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Possessive Jaskier | Dandelion, Translation Available Summary:

Jaskier is more than happy to help Geralt work through the effects of his potions.

[samstree]

A Crown for a Song

A song’s time is all Geralt will ask for.

For @themountainarchives, day 5: dandelion field

AO3

Geralt shouldn’t be surprised when he finds Jaskier in a field of dandelions.

When the townspeople told him to find the bard on the hilltop, the one who’s running a “flower business”, he should have known it’s not an actual business. Instead, Jaskier is just sitting there with a lute in his lap and flowers stuck in his hair, singing to three little girls jumping up and down around him.

Sunlight spills from his now longer hair, weaving around the golden dandelions and putting a soft gleam in his eyes. He’s still too far away for Geralt to be seen properly, but here Jaskier is, safe and sound.

And happy.

The girls let out an amazed aww when the ballad reaches the final part where the mermaid trades her tail for legs. They melt at the romantic ending, and Jaskier takes a dramatic bow. Or rather, whatever bow he can manage sitting cross-legged under the sky.

“A dandelion crown for a song, my ladies, one at a time.” The wind carries Jaskier’s voice over to where Geralt hides in the shade of a tree. The tallest girl places two crumbled flowers in the bard’s hair, and they droop dangerously, so Jaskier rights them for her. “Perfect! Another fairy tale?”

Geralt stands there and watches as the girls sit in a half-circle, their rosy cheeks facing Jaskier expectantly. He doesn’t dare to approach. He’d break it, the beautiful sight that is Jaskier smiling.

Still, he needs to talk, to apologize.

By his feet, a dandelion sways in the breeze, proud but alone. Geralt bends down and breaks its stem, taking it in his gloved hand.

A song’s time, perhaps.

That’s all Geralt will ask for.

He finds more blossoming dandelions right where he stands; it’s spring, after all. He picks them one by one, before weaving each into a cascading braid. A crown for a song. A crown for Jaskier.

To Geralt’s surprise, Roach is the first to get impatient. The song barely ends and she is already slipping past Geralt and trotting towards the tiny group under the sun, drawn by the open field of wildflowers to graze on. “Wait, no—” he reaches for the reins but can’t let go of the half-finished crown.

“Horsy!” One of the younger girls sees the mare, pointing excitedly and interrupting Jaskier’s performance. Heads turn, and Geralt freezes to the spot with a bundle of yellow in hand.

With the sun at his back, it’s hard to tell what emotions are flashing across Jaskier’s face, but Geralt can only picture the shock in those blue eyes. Gods, he’s missed Jaskier’s eyes.

Like the pull of gravity, Geralt finds himself drawn to Jaskier, one step at a time until he’s at the top of the hill. “Hey,” he breathes.

“Hey.”

Jaskier stares, fingers hovering over the strings, a ghost of a smile still by his lips. His expression is indecipherable, with relief and confusion combined, knitting a thin line between his brows. Is he angry too? He has every right to be, Geralt thinks, and that is what he came here for—

“You brought a flower crown.” Jaskier looks down to Geralt’s hands, and the children follow the downturn of his gaze, their curious eyes round as bells.

“I—” Geralt clears his throat. Suddenly the cool spring day is stifling. “It’s for a song.”

It’s not what he’s meant to say. Now that they are so close, the grand speech he’s rehearsed a million times seems to elude him, and yet.

Jaskier hears him anyway.

Jaskier always hears him, even when he says what he doesn’t mean.

“Come sit,” he answers, gesturing to the odd group of theirs. “Business is business. Isn’t that right, girls?”

Two of them nod, and Jaskier sends a playful wink. The other one is still staring at Roach who is munching on the grass without a care in the world.

So Geralt joins them, slotting into the space next to Jaskier. Their gazes meet, and something swells in Geralt’s chest, overwhelming him with warmth. The song begins—it is one of gentleness and quiet love.

Jaskier sings, eyes gleaming with patience. He’s waited for so long, and yet he still waits for Geralt.

He sings, and when the song ends, Geralt will tie the weaved dandelions into a circle, and the crown will end up on Jaskier’s head for a brief moment before the youngest girl asks for it so she can put it on Roach. When the song ends, Geralt will pull Jaskier into an embrace, the lute pressed between them awkwardly.

When the song ends, Geralt will take Jaskier’s hand and utter the apology weighing on his breastbone for far too long, and finally he will be able to breathe through the longing gathered in his lungs.

When the song ends, their lives begin anew.

~~~

Filling your own prompt can be so satisfying actally ;)

Tagging: @wanderlust-t @rockysstupidity @flowercrown-bard​ @alllthequeenshorses @mothmanismyuncle @percy-jackson-is-sexy- @constantlytiredpigeon @behonesthowsmysinging @kitcatkim3 @endless-whump @rey-a-nonbinary-bisexual @llamasdumpsterfire @dapandapod @kuripon @holymotherwolf

Please feel free to tell me if you want to be removed or added to the list <3

[howdoistormspirit]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion Characters: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion Additional Tags: Bottom Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Virgin Jaskier | Dandelion, Virginity Kink, First Time Topping, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot Series: Part 28 of Witcher Kinktober 2022 Summary:

Kinktober Day 28: Virginity Kink

When Jaskier informed Geralt he’d never had sex before, Geralt wasn’t sure how to react. After Jaskier begs for his instruction, well, it would only make sense for Geralt to teach him. Good thing Jaskier is a “hands on” learner.

  Day 28 Joke: Did you hear about that cheese factory that exploded? There was nothing left but de Brie!

[friendofhayley]

The February 2022 Multifandom Fic Rec is here! This month flew by too fast but also got me knee deep into a new poly ship that I'm obsessing over. Thank you to every content creator out there, y'all are our shining stars. This Fic Rec includes fics from the fandoms. Enjoy!

Geralt/Jaskier/Yennifer (The Witcher)

1. lilac and buttercups by @ivegotbreadinmypants | pre-transformation Yennifer is the best, she's as feral! as Jaskier - more heavy on the Yennskier - immortal Jaskier - star-crossed lovers - 5k

Jaskier has walked the Continent for decades. He's seen it all. Nothing, however, could have prepared him for the violet-eyed hunchback who shines with hurt and power.

He's never been so enamored.

2. Couples Therapy by TheBookMouse | modern AU - this is literally my dream - Geralt is a himbo malewife and Yennifer is a power girlboss, as usual - and they were roommates - 6k

Geralt and Yennefer have been in an on-again-off-again relationship for six years. When they start pissing off their roommate Jaskier with their arguments, he suggests they go to couples therapy. They go in a couple, they come out at the end as more than that.

3. lilacs and dandelions by @limerental | listen this fic got me in the feels, I literally had to stop and come back a week later! aaa! - they just love each other so much - found family with a pinch of pegging - slow burn bc of Geralt's self-esteem - 46k

“The Witcher believes you’re under a spell,” Yennefer said, conversationally, drawing a sip from her tea.

“I most certainly am,” said Jaskier to her in a warm drawl that Geralt recognized as the tone of voice he slipped into when flirting and frankly, things needed to start making more sense and fast before he gave into his impulse to do something rash and wholly unhelpful. Namely, chuck himself out the cottage window and into the sea.

4. our voices collide with each howl of the tide by dragon_rider | creature Jaskier - if you have body dysmorphia, mixed-race, and/or have low self-esteem this will be a rollercoaster ride for you, trust me - WINTER IN KAER MORHEN - found family - 29k

It reeked of slaughter, both fresh and old, as soon as he went through the portal and into enemy territory.

Soldiers in black armour immediately tried to take him down so he started Singing, reaching for the dormant power deep within him.

Sterek (Teen Wolf)

1. Driving Mr. Derek by I_JustWokeUp | author-made media to tell the story, so cool!!! - misunderstandings - a splash of Derek/Jackson - mutual pining - 9k

Derek no longer has a license to drive. So Laura steps in and hires fresh-out-of-college-with-useless-major Stiles Stilinski to drive him around.

2. And We'll Be Complicated by ingberry | selective amnesia - homophobic gnomes - magical Stiles - misunderstandings - 18k

Stiles already had his hands full with the case he was working on for the enigmatic Mrs. B. He really didn't need this too, but there was no changing the fact that he no longer remembered Derek Hale or anything connected to him. And no one could figure out why.

Drarry (Harry Potter)

1. A Touch Of Respect by donnarafiki | consent! is! for! everybody! including! kids! - established relationship - chronic illness - family dynamics soz - 23k

Five year old Scorpius isn't fond of people touching him, and he has a million reasons for it. However, his father is of the opinion that just saying 'no' should be enough without giving any of those reasons, but not everyone in his new-found family agrees.

2. It's No Great Mystery by agentmoppet | first Drarry Harry POV time loop I've seen! - angst with a happy ending - ghosts and portraits are his only peers, v cool - Harry has PTSD and depression - 57k

Who on earth decided that bringing back the Yule Ball for their eighth year would be a good idea? It feels like the worst day of Harry’s life, watching everyone get glammed up like the war never happened, like the last Triwizard Tournament wasn’t such a colossal failure.

And then it happens again. And again. And again.

3. Petals on the Breeze by @luna-lenaa | Fae Drarry - canon divergence - Ron is a Bad Friend - BAMF Narcissa Black - 125k+

After witnessing Harry’s return with Cedric’s dead body at the end of the Triwizard Tournament, Draco begins to question his father’s ambitions and beliefs. His mother reveals her, and, therefore, his non-human heritage soon afterward, and they realize they must go into hiding or suffer as all non-humans will when Voldemort comes into power.

They go to the only person they think might be able to help and also be too noble to use their situation against them:

Harry Potter.

[gaystreetsmarts]

anyway today i learned that one of the songs jaskier has in his repertoire is "the man of a thousand grunts" which IS the best thing i've learned all semester yes thank you

[kushielsmercy]

Time swap AU where canon Geralt and Jaskier are thrown forward into modern times.

Jaskier is thrilled when he finds out that witcher's are now more myth than history, and the myths are very flattering. He fancies he had no small hand in that.

He's even more thrilled when he discovers that there's an action movie titled The White Wolf and catapults straight into euphoria when he learns that there are entire gatherings where people dress up as Gerald of Rivinia (the historic record isn't perfect).

He buys a white wig, two foam swords, and "hmms" his way throughout the convention center, inconspicuously staring at leather clad asses in ridiculously high pants (turning your head as they walk by is not subtle, bard), and dragging a very unhappy (and plainly dressed, the killjoy) Geralt beside him.

Jaskier's halfway through telling the eighth person that day how it was an abomination that Jaquies the Minstrel was but a side character, given how integral he clearly was to the witcher's survival when Geralt can't take it any more. He kisses him to shut him and takes him to bed just to get off the convention floor.

...if he's got a pair of tight leather pants in his bag when they finally find a mage and get back home, no one needs to know.

[anaismus]

lines

lines on ao3 || pg-13 || 1ch/2k w|| m/m

Julian had a strange set of letters under his heart all his life. Mom said that this is the name of the person whom the universe picked up for him. But a boy couldn’t understand in any way what kind of parents could give the child such a name that he couldn't read. Geralt Roger Eric du Haute-Bellegarde. The older the Viscount de Lettenhove become, the more often the name under his heart changed. Gwynbleidd was added first when Julian was fifteen and after Vatt'ghern, when the age exceeded twenty-five. And if Geralt Roger Eric du Haute-Bellegarde the guy could understand, then Julian learned the Hen Llinge only by the age of twenty-two. The first thing he asked his teacher was about the meaning of Vatt'ghern. It turned out to be a Witcher.

He tried to find this strangely named guy, to appear in his eyes and say: “hey, I'm your true one! now we'll be happy. honestly, whatever your name!”. But the years went by but in Julian's life this strange name was present only in the form of a set of letters, forever burned on his skin.

At twenty-six, his family will be stripped of his title, and after graduation he’ll have to wander and play the lute in taverns for a couple of bites. It is then that he’ll receive his new name, and everyone will forever forget that Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove ever existed. Now there’s only a restless guy in a yellow suit with a lute at the ready and an eternal impossible smile, who calls himself Jaskier. Buttercup. The same bright and beautiful. But not in the least poisonous.

But Geralt will receive his true one only in the fourteenth year of his life, being already almost completely converted into a Witcher. On the first such day, the fifteenth of May, he will look for a long time in an old mirror in one of the rooms of old Kaer Morhen and with a scowl look under his left breast “Julian Alfred Pankratz de Lettenhove”. He’ll get angry and scratch his chest with short nails, burn with a red-hot coal and scrape off with a knife blade in an attempt to remove this impossibly stupid name from his body. Because he is a fucking Witcher. He doesn't need any-fucking-one. Especially in a little brat, fourteen years younger than him. He's not going to become a mommy and raise a child.

After a couple of years, Geralt will put up with this impossibly stupid name, and after another five he will teach himself not to look at him at all. And on his forty-first birthday, he will sit in the far corner and endure the company of an annoying bard who decided that a man needs company.

But Geralt won’t tell him how much the bard makes him angry, and Jaskier won’t tell Witcher that this is not a chance meeting. The minstrel had been tracking him for three and a half years, hoping to find that sad and maddeningly big word on the tip of his tongue when he meets Geralt.

As well as not say his name. Will only start a ballad about romanticizing soulmates' love, but he will receive in response an equally emotional ballad that all this is nonsense and Geralt doesn’t need a damn thing. And Jaskier will be silent for another day, trying to live with the knowledge that his man doesn't need him.

And a day and a half later, when he and the witcher will arrive at a mission in Lettenhove, one of his ex-friends recognizes the endlessly cheerful Julian Pankratz in Jaskier. And Jaskier will slowly die under the heavy gaze of Geralt.

“Why did he call you that?” Geralt will ask, lying with his back to Jaskier and growling softly. Too bestial.

Jaskier will be silent for a long time, and then quietly and somehow too calm for the familiar Jaskier will give out:

“This is my name, Geralt.”

On this day, Geralt will hit Jaskier for the first time. For a long time later, he'll be angry with himself, with stupid unnecessary emotions and will eat away his brain from the inside. But on this day, he will overturn Jaskier on his back, put his hands behind his head, punch in the jaw to shut up the tirade "Geralt, this is my best hiking suit!" and through the torn cloth he will read his long forgotten, such a wrong name.

Geralt Roger Eric du Haute-Bellegarde

Gwynbleidd

Vatt'ghern

“You knew from the start.”

“I didn't!” Jaskier exclaims, touching the bleeding wound on his lower lip with the tip of his tongue and somehow being too much delighted with the metallic taste. “Okay, yes. Yes, I knew! But what was I supposed to say? Hey, Geralt, I'm your soulmate, let's have fuck and enjoy this life?”

That night, Geralt will spend the night not in the room they rented, leaving Jaskier alone. But the guy will still be happy. Because Geralt finally touched him, almost tenderly, and also looked eye to eye longer than ever before. These were the happiest seven minutes of his life in a million and a half minutes since the day they met. And he’ll look for the biggest and saddest word.

And in the Brokilon Forest, drunk with dryad wine, Geralt will be the same Geralt that Jaskier imagined, being not familiar with the witcher. Gentle, sweet and, most importantly, his own Geralt of Rivia. Jaskier will melt under the touch of eternally cold fingers, the burning warmth of the lips. Will tremble at the words "my babyboy", spoken with all the tenderness that, in principle, someone like Geralt is capable of. For the whole night, the witcher will become the one who loves and protects the stupid gullible bard, squeezes in his arms; will make Jaskier remember about the search for that most important and biggest word in the guy's life.

At night, Jaskier will wriggle under someone else's body, and in the morning alone he will wake up to hear “it was stupid. momentary impulse. means nothing, Jaskier”. And he will try to get through this day without carving words about wrongness and lies on his body.

“At night you said something different,” Jaskier looks out from under his forehead, with his impossibly large eyes, which are filled with moisture against their will. “That you like me. That this is right and you won't leave anymore. These were your words.”

“It was the influence of wine. If someone else were in your place, I’d say the same thing.”

“You are my soulmate, Geralt.”

“I'm your nobody. I don’t need any-fucking-one, and there’s no exception.”

Jaskier will look for a long time, hard and, which is not at all typical for him, will be silent. Geralt's eyes reflect the apology and self-loathing for the previous night, and Jaskier’s eyes are a cry for help. But a guy will only be confusedly huddled against the wall, slightly waving his trembling hands with emotion and chaotically run his eyes around the room, in search of salvation. And then Jaskier will leave, and Geralt will not hear about the loathsome talkative bard for another three and a half months.

The Witcher will be happy and will continue to travel further in blissful silence only with Roach. He’ll be pleased with the fact that Jaskier's name is not distorted on his chest. So, everything is fine.

Just before the hunt for Djinn, Geralt will again see Jaskier's big dark eyes and his impossibly sunny smile, and will feel a strange feeling of joy and relief in his chest. He won't tell anyone how much he missed this little brat. Nobody. Even himself. It's just Jaskier. Disgustingly loud and cheerful Jaskier. And they don’t belong to each other at all.

He will prove it to himself on the shore of the lake, when with trembling thin fingers the bard will grab the Witcher’s dark cotton shirt, spit blood and wheeze “Geralt. Please. It hurts me,” and then only his name, his name, and again his name. Jaskier will grab his hands on a strong neck, whine, whimper, repeat the name of the Witcher and try to pronounce this stupid and sad big word, and Geralt will feel whole nothing.

Jaskier was and will remain an annoying bard. Had he died now, Geralt would hardly have remembered him for a long time. Jaskier will remain in history only as the author of stupid ballads that stick to the memory.

But the witcher rakes it up and takes it first to the elf, and then to the witch. Because any normal person would do that. And Geralt always wanted to be human.

“Everything will be fine with him,” Yennefer's voice is heard in the doorway.

“I understand. I told him so much. But he's my soulmate,” Geralt stumbles, and then corrects himself, not daring to look the sorceress in the eyes, “friend. He can't die so stupid”.

“He will get better,” a warm narrow palm rests on the shoulder, which is covered with the bard's blood. And Geralt feels a pleasant warmth inside. And also longing. From the fact that this woman is destined for another.

And Jaskier will really get better.  It will take less than a couple of hours before he opens his eyes, feels the restored neck, and then rushes to the door, frightened by the naked witch.

Fast, dexterous and obscenely purposeful, she will almost bring the boy to a swoon, forcing him to almost slide down the stairs, tangled in cotton feet, and fall out into the street right into the hands of a Witcher walking towards him.

“She wants to be Djinn's vessel!” shouts Jaskier, grabbing a wide hand with his palm, which looks extremely ridiculous, and pulls him away from the building. It is necessary to get out, because this stupid Witcher with a heightened sense of justice and a stupid desire to be like Robin Hood will climb inside to save this no less stupid woman.

“She wants to become more powerful; but she’ll die. She needs to be stopped.”

“Well, let's pray for her on our way out of town.” Jaskier will continue to drag the man forward until he easily pulls his hand out of the grip. “Are you perhaps short of a marble?” Jaskier almost screeches, losing control over the sound of rocks falling. “Oh, no, no, no, no, no. Don’t tell me that this is finally the moment you’ve decided to actually care about someone other than yourself?” he runs up to the man and grabs him by the collar, trying to shake him. But, in fact, from the outside it looked like a fight between a puppy and a mammoth. Jaskier is hardly less than the witcher. He is strong and tall, but Geralt is much stronger. “Leave the very sexy but insane witch to her inevitable demise!”

“She saved your life, Jaskier.” a wide palm rests on the back of Jaskier's head, and the man leaves a kiss on the bard's forehead, dirty with dust and blood, and then goes inside. “I can let her die.”

He will leave and leave Jaskier in the yard with a riot of butterflies in his stomach. Because Geralt, his Geralt, had just made such a gentle movement, almost bluntly said that he was ready to sacrifice himself for the sake of a stranger who saved the bard's life.

Jaskier will be happy for seventeen and a half minutes, until his chest burns with a knife blade and his beloved and beautiful Geralt Roger Eric du Haute-Bellegarde Gwynbleidd Vatt'ghern, displayed in graphic type, is crossed out with an ugly thin line.

Jaskier will slide onto a dusty piece of stone that has fallen off the wall of the estate, and will fix a blank gaze on the ground. Because it can't be. Stupid Geralt so many times went into battle with the vilest creatures, some vile Djinn cannot defeat him. He just can't. It's not his style.

But the minutes will pass, silence will continue to reign in the house, and the ugly disgusting line that crossed out the Witcher’s name will still remain in place.

“They’re alive,” the quiet, awkward voice of the elf standing in front of the broken window near the seated Jaskier will be heard.

The bard will blindly look at the guy and wave his disheveled head negatively.

“Bollocks. Take a look. His name. It is-” Jaskier will not be able to pronounce this bad, this turned out to be so disgusting word “-crossed out.”

“I swear, bard. They are alive and, judging by their activity, completely intact.”

Jaskier will approach the window on stiff legs. The first thing that catches his eye is Geralt's wide, bare back. Alive, almost unharmed and completely dear Geralt. The second thing that will catch your eye is the no less naked body of that madwoman with sorcerer abilities. And finally, barely flashing before Jaskier's eyes, his own name. Strikethrough Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove; strikethrough from j to e. Strikethrough just like the name of the witcher on Jaskier's chest. And also, if he is not completely crazy with the thought that he will have to learn to live without the White Wolf, under his name on someone else's chest he will see the disgusting, utterly vile, Janka Yennefer Vengerbergska.

And Jaskier will hide like a small child, whine, finally finding this biggest and insanely sad word. Fidelity.

But that will be later. And now Julian Alfred Pankratz de Lettenhove is still looking for this strange guy with an equally strange name. And he's almost happy.

[borealwrites]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, The Witcher (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion Characters: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion, Roach (The Witcher) Additional Tags: Dreamsharing, Implied Sexual Content, Getting Together, Mutual Pining, Dreams, POV Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Not Beta Read Series: Part 2 of Eight Nights of Hannukah Summary:

It isn’t uncommon for Geralt to dream about Jaskier. It isn’t uncommon for him to dream about being intimate with him, either. It is uncommon for Jaskier to be so aware in Geralt’s dreams… Hmm.

[mour-ning-time]

Author of this feckin thing

Rated E

11/? Chapters WIP

Geralt x Jaskier (other ships to be added)

“Run” He growled

“If the spell only makes you attack the people you love, I’ll be fine”

“I’ll stay here and keep you from attacking anyone you actually love”

“I love you!” Geralt snarled, The tree he was leaning against splintered under his fingers.

“Now RUN”

Prompt by @maggie.reads on Tik Tok that ran away from me.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/36913150?view_full_work=true

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

Honeysuckle

hi i have no self control and really really really love tattoo artist!jaskier so here we are again. this is a prequel to the nipple piercings fic wherein geralt is absolutely smitten from day one. not the same vibe but im telling myself thats to be expected bc these take place like five years apart lol

Warnings: tattoos. if they make you squeamish this is not your fic, swearing, mild anxiety, not much else

___________________

Geralt’s palms were sweating when he walked into the little tattoo shop above his favorite deli. The artist he booked was nice enough in the email, and the front desk gal was sweet on the phone, but he’d never gotten a tattoo before and his anxiety was telling him to run home and bury himself under all the blankets he owned. 

A familiar voice greeted him when he came through the door, “Hey! Sweet, you’re early! Jask is just setting up the chair!” 

The coily brown haired receptionist gestured to a black leather couch across the room and Geralt just barely caught a glimpse of tattooed vines from under her hoodie sleeve. He nodded and smiled, taking a seat and trying not to look so stiff. The receptionist called another artist over and Geralt was surprised when the taller, purple eyed woman wrapped her arms around her shoulders and placed a kiss on her cheek as they looked at the monitor. It was the good kind of surprise, Geralt decided, the kind that sets you at ease when you were gearing up for a fight. The receptionist caught his unintentional smile and winked at him before he suddenly found his nail beds fascinating.

“You Geralt?”

His eyes scanned over the man asking from bottom to top and nearly lost his ability to speak, “Hm? Thats me.”

He looked like he came straight form the Seattle grunge scene in the 90’s, but showered and with beautiful floral blackout sleeves up to the wrists on each arm. It seemed the only color over his whole body was the few yellow buttercups scattered through the pattern, ending in a bouquet of all sorts of plants and flowers and herbs at his collar bones, only slightly covered by his Heathers on Broadway tank. 

He flicked his wispy brown hair out of his unreasonably pretty blue eyes and smiled so brilliantly Geralt had to remember to breathe, “I’m Jaskier. Come on back!”

Geralt gave him a curt nod and stood to follow. 

“I hope you brought shorts, it might be a bitch to walk home in that.” Jaskier said, leading him into one of the rooms down a long hallway.

Geralt was suddenly regretting listening to Lambert. He wanted to melt into the floor when he realized he would have to say this to the beautiful tattoo artist’s face, “They uh… they zip away…”

“Oh my god.” Jaskier breathed, finally looking at Geralt’s knees, “I didn’t even know they made those anymore.”

“I swear to god, my brother wears them for work and told me to-”

Jaskier waved his hand, clearly holding back a smile, “No worries, Ron Stoppable.”

Geralt rolled his eyes but couldn’t keep from smiling, “Do you make a habit of making fun of your clients?”

“Only when I’m sure they can handle it,” he teased, “Now off with the hideous zipper pants, I gotta shave your thigh before I start the drawing.”

Once Geralt was shaved and positioned every which way on the table/chair contraption, he finally got to see the rough sketch. The marker felt cool and tickled the back of his knee, but surprisingly to him, he kept up a relaxed conversation, almost flirting before he thought better of it. 

“Do you like where everything is? Want any more grass? Or flowers? Now’s the time for changes, don’t be shy.” 

Geralt turned his leg this way and that, looking at the little blue and purple marks in a band just above his knee in the mirror, “You’re the professional, what do you think?”

Jaskier took a step back and reached for a roll of paper towels and a bottle of rubbing alcohol, “You said this was your first tattoo right?”

Geralt nodded.

“Okay, one less flower on the back then.”

“Why?”

“It’s one of the most painful places to get tattooed.”

“Keep it. I like it.”

Jaskier raised an eyebrow, “Alright, Hot Shot. Face down, we’ll start there first.”

Holy fuck Jaskier was right. Geralt had a high pain tolerance, but this was a whole different kind of pain. He had his arms crossed under his forehead and was doing his best to take deep, even breaths but Jesus Christ, that little chuckle-fuck just kept going over what felt like the same spot. But hell would freeze over before Geralt tapped out, so he forced his breath out and kept going.

“Why honeysuckle?” Jaskier asked as he sat back to dip the machine in more ink.

Geralt took the opportunity to shift a bit and breathe easy before he lied, “Just picked it.”

Jaskier’s hands were back on his thigh, “You don’t have to tell me, it’s just not something I’m asked to do very often. Never for a first tattoo.”

Geralt’s smile turned into a grimace as the needles were back at his skin. Whether it was his sincerity, pretty eyes, or Geralt’s desperate need for a distraction, he bucked up and answered his question, “My- ah, someone told me to find a reminder of things I loved. My horse eats nothing but honeysuckle whenever we go on the trails.”

"That's so fucking cute," Jaskier sighed, still attacking the back of Geralt's leg, "Wouldn't have pegged you for a horse guy. What's their name?" 

The pain was easier to ignore when Geralt was rambling about Roach. Jaskier kept the conversation flowing, maybe indulging Geralt’s ramblings a little too much, but by the time he flipped Geralt over to do the inside of his knee they were joking and swapping disastrous college stories like old friends. They took a snack break where the purple eyed woman, Yennefer he'd learned, made fun of his zip shorts and Triss scolded her. It was nice, he felt oddly at home here with these people he’d just met. 

The front half of the tattoo was nothing compared to the back and Geralt was able to breathe and just chat. He did his best to convince himself that the feeling in his chest wasn’t disappointment when Jaskier finally finished and wrapped his leg in saniderm. 

Jaskier leaned on the front desk while they waited for Geralt’s card to run, "What are you doing after this?" 

Geralt's stomach turned with nervous excitement and he truly didn't know how he got his words to come out so casual, "Was just gonna get some ramen and watch reruns, why?" 

Jaskier worried at his bottom lip as he stapled the receipt to some paperwork, "There's a great ramen place around the corner and I don't have another appointment tonight…" 

Geralt positively beamed, "If you can stand to be seen with someone wearing zipper shorts in public, I'd love to."