#jaskier x geralt of rivia fic

[thedemonofcat]

The truth was that Jaskier was the result of a child's surprise. Surprisingly, his grateful parents discovered that the witcher who claimed him never returned to collect.

Years later, at Kaer Morhen, everyone is shocked to learn that it was Lambert—drunk at the time—who had invoked the law of surprise.

Now, Lambert is taken quite seriously as Jaskier’s "Papa," and he’s constantly angry with Geralt. His words are clear: "You’re no good for my child," or "Never speak to me or my son again."

No matter how many times Jaskier insists that Lambert isn’t his father, it makes no difference.

[blooms-in-april]

Jaskier: So your brother Eskel takes the route through the Blue Mountains and your brother Lambert blows things up around Novigrad, but what does your dear father do?

Geralt: Vesemir? Nothing. He stays at the keep. Fixes walls.

Jaskier: Geralt, my dear, be serious. There's no way any relation of yours can stay out of mischief for long. You're telling me a Witcher stays cooped up in that castle, sweeping floors, cooking meals, and dusting like a sweet little housewife?

Geralt: *grunts angrily*

Jaskier, laughing: Geralt, I guarantee your dear father is growing weed and getting fucked whenever you children aren't home.

Geralt: *scarred silence* That's not true.

Vesemir, at that exact moment in Kaer Morhen: Fucking come on, Guxart. Put your back into it!

[akelafang]

Modern au idea

Geralt's a bartender with a teeny tiny massive crush on the local musician Jaskier who plays at his bar every week. His favorite part of the night is when Jaskier comes up to the bar after his set and chats away to him, high off the adrenalin of performing. That is until one night when instead of his usually bubbly voice calling out before he's even seated, Jaskier sits nervously at the bar and orders an angel shot

[pickleforstony]

"He smells good,"

"He smells...fine?"

So I recently read this amazing fic by @YancyPants in ao3, and really enjoyed it. I can't get enough of good Mpreg fics. 😌

[letmelickyoureyeballs]

Witcher Fic Recs

Wanted to make a list of some of my favorite Witcher fics! Most of these are not Jaskier/Geralt, but I did add some, and they are just as good! A lot are also Explicit, and some need an AO3 account to access. Feel free to message me if you want your work taken off this list.

*I do not claim any of these fics as mine, and I give all the credit to the original authors*

"Bat Out of Water" by @tafkamayle One of if not my favorite Witcher fic! 65k words, Explicit, Jaskier/Geralt Jaskier/Eskel Jaskier/Lambert, Vampire and Pirate AU

"The Songbird of The Cats" by @ohwhoopsok I've read this one so many times I cannot recommend it enough! 28k words, Mature, Jaskier/OCs Jaskier/Aiden Jaskier/Lambert, Jaskier becomes the School of the Cats new obsession, little non-human Jaskier

"The Shape of Love" by @jaskierswolf 17k words, Teen and Up, Shifter AU, Geralt/Jaskier, there's a bunch of works in this series and they're all great!

"Fateful Red" by @tafkamayle again, 16k words, Explicit, Jaskier/Geralt, Soulmates and No Powers AU, I love this one so much!

"That's my Jam(bert)" by @greenbirddraws/GreenBird, 14k words, Explicit, Jaskier/Lambert, I love them together so much!

"So Tight I'd Bruise You" by @sweetpeapod 496 words, General Audience, Jaskier/Lambert, little hurt/comfort and soft Lambert

"Cat Up A Tree(Going Down on a Witcher)" by Hallianna, 10k words, Explicit, Aiden/Jaskier/Lambert, love this one a lot!

"Bring Your Hunger" by @sweetpeapod again, 2k words, Teen and Up, Jaskier/Lambert, teasing and fluff

"Take a Chance on Second Chances" by Caelanmiriel, 9k words, Explicit, Jaskier/Lambert, some courting rituals

"Fingertips" by @ohwhoopsok again, 3k words, Explicit, Jaskier/Lambert, Lambert can't get hard, some fluff, this one is super sweet!

"to the wolves" by @besselfcn 1k words, Mature, Jaskier/Lambert/Eskel/Geralt, Past SA, hurt/comfort, revenge, past Valdo/Jaskier

"I Just Want to Feel You" by @stfustucky 6k words, Explicit, Jaskier/Geralt/Lambert/Eskel, Geralt and Eskel fuck up some aftercare so Lambert has to make things right, super sweet one!

"Soap, and the Scents of Home" by @round--robin/round_robin 32k words, Explicit, Jaskier/Geralt/Eskel/Lambert, lots of touch-starved Witchers, Scent kink, an amazing series!

"5 Times Geralt was Cat-Like (+1 Time He Was Wolf-Like)" by @xrdragonix 2k, General Audience, Geralt/Jaskier, Wolf and Cat traits, super cute and wholesome!

If you enjoyed any of these please let the authors know with comments, kudos, and/or bookmarking it!

[queenxxxsupreme]

Rare Encounters (Jaskier x f!witcher!reader)

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

Warnings: nothing outside of canon

Summary: Jaskier meets his first female witcher.

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

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

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

All of the wolves diverted their eyes away from you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We thought you were dead, or lost.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hmm.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re a brave soul, bard.”

He smiled a bit bashfully, cheeks flushing light pink.

“Why, thank you.”

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

“What? Of-Of course it was!”

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

“Jaskier has no fear.” Geralt sighed.

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

You smiled a little at the bard.

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

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

Geralt chuckled a little.

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

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

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

“Is something wrong?” Jaskier asked you.

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

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

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

“What?”

“Don’t think about it.”

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

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

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

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

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

“She is rather stunning, isn’t she?”

“Jaskier.”

“It’s a compliment!”

Geralt shook his head.

“She will rip you to pieces.”

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

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

“Sorry, Ciri.”

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where’s Ciri?” Geralt asked him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N.” Vesemir scolded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you asking my age, bard?”

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

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

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

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

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

”My-My apologizes.”

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

”Yes.” Jaskier answered a little too quickly.

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

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

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

“Just— I was just—,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

”An older sister and a younger sister.”

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

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

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

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

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

The door to the kitchen opened and there stood Geralt.

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

“Ah, Geralt!”

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

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

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

”Vesemir has him in the infirmary.”

You slipped past the witcher and hurried away.

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

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

”Y/N is—,”

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

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

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

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

“Jaskier.”

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

”Just be careful.”

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

“Uh, o-okay, Geralt.”

[write-ur-wrongs]

The Set Up

Fic prompt from @always-and-forever-alone : I was wondering if you could write a store of reader, being called a monster for most of her life, and he either telling her she's not or saying something well it's happening(in he's way, because let be honest he probably wouldn't say it directly, God forbid he cares)

A/N: not proofread or beta-ed. I really wanted to get this one out today so I am going down with my typos. I had another idea in the works for this but this idea snuck up on me as I wrote. I honestly might keep working on v1 to post eventually but here's this one for now! :) ______________________________________________________

“What the fuck, Jaskier?” you screamed, your voice overlapping with the immense witcher standing across from you, who said the same thing.

When your longtime friend had asked you to come into town to meet a friend of his, you’d been hesitant. Life wasn’t kind to non-humans, and it certainly hasn’t been very nice to you. But you’d known Jaskier for years, and he’d never given you any reason to think he’d hurt you. Until now of course.

“Woah! Hey,” Jaskier, to his credit, sounded about as panicked as you felt, “please both of you just sit down and let me – Geralt put the sword down for fuck’s sake.”

You tore your eyes off the white-haired brute, his merciless grip easing off the hilt of his still-sheathed weapon, and chanced a glance at your supposed friend. There was a little bit of sweat on his upper lip, his eyes were wide, and he had his arms outstretched between the two of you, palms down – pacifying? He looked nervous but not guilty.

Why the fuck doesn’t he look guilty? You thought, confusion and hurt mingling bitterly in your stomach.

Wait. The witcher – Geralt? – yelled at Jaskier too. Why the hell was he pissed? Maybe Jaskier expected he kill you for free, or maybe he was on some kind of vacation and resented the job.

You set your eyes back on him, still refusing take a seat at their table, and your breath caught in your throat as his harsh, cat-like eyes, met and held your gaze.

“Y/N,” Jaskier said, waving you forward with the hand closest to you, “please sit. Let me explain.”

“Explain what?” you hissed, “How you hired a witcher to kill me?”

“Kill you?!” Jaskier and, confoundingly, Geralt, said in unison.

“Come on,” Jaskier continued, softening his tone and looking from you to his guest, “you know I would never do that. I have no reason to do that. Please, just sit.”

Fighting every instinct, you pulled up a stool from an adjacent table and joined the pair. Your heart was beating into your ears but you figured the witcher wouldn’t make his move in the middle of a busy tavern so you should be safe – for now.

***

Geralt watched the woman sitting across from him with growing curiosity.

When the bard had told him he was looking forward to introducing him to a friend of his in town, he’d rolled his eyes. Jaskier was always trying to introduce him to women he knew, women he hoped would sway and soften him up a little. It was exhausting, infuriating, and frankly, a little embarrassing. Geralt didn’t need any help in that department and he definitely didn’t share Jaskier’s taste in partners.

But this woman was nothing like the others. For starters, she wasn’t human. Geralt could sense her power even before she entered the tavern, his medallion vibrating in warning against his chest. When she entered, he took immediate notice of the way every candle got brighter, each flame now leaning toward her slightly, drawn in by her power.

She must have been a fire elemental of some kind, he’d thought. Or maybe a sorceress who’d given into the Power brought by fire. Either way, Geralt couldn’t take his eyes off her.

His fascination had only grown when she spotted Jaskier from across the room and her guarded face erupted into a wide and open smile. A smile that turned defensive as soon as she locked eyes with him over the table.

She bared her teeth and sent a surge of power through the room, flames flickering around them. How did Jaskier even meet this woman?

“What the fuck, Jaskier?” he said, pushing up from his seat and reaching for his sword, a confusing mix of defensiveness and jealousy settling in his gut. How and where did his soft, flowery friend meet someone like this?

***

“Okay, first of all, thank you both for agreeing to this.”

“I would never have agreed had I known –”

“Jaskier you son of a –”

“Okay, sorry! Sorry! That was a mistake, I admit that, I’m sorry,” Jaskier said, rambling, “but look, Y/N, you’re always saying how you wished you could find someone who saw you for who you are and not what you are.” He turned to you as he spoke, cupping his hand gently over your elbow, urging you to uncross your arms.

“And Geralt, please don’t kill me for this,” he blurted, placing his other hand next to the witcher’s on the table, “you’re too lonely for your own good, and I thought maybe if you met Y/N, someone who could match you, you could, I don’t know…”

“Wait,” you interrupted him, laughing despite yourself, “you’re saying this is a romantic set-up and not a,” you brought your hand across your throat in a mock-slice, “murder-for-hire set-up?”

“Now, wait, hang on. Why would I kill you?” Geralt said, speaking over your realization defensively, as if he didn’t reach for his sword when you made eye contact. “I’m a witcher, not a damned assassin.”

“Because I’m,” you hesitated and glanced around you to make sure no one was looking before briefly demonstrating by drawing a flame up in your hand and extinguishing it just as quickly. Jaskier was looking at you so softly, his eyes betraying the way he pitied you, but Geralt? He was looking at you like you’d just juggled the bread rolls on the table rather than summoning fire.

“Why would that be reason enough to kill you? You’re not a monster.”

“Tell that to every village I’ve ever dared to call home.” You scoffed.

“Geralt can relate!” Jaskier said, jumping in far too loudly and with too much exuberance. “People have been wrongly treating him like a monster for years!”

“Jask!” Geralt hissed, looking pissed and, wait, was he embarrassed?

“Sorry!” he squeaked, throwing up his hands as he got up from the table. “I am going to get us another round, the two of you… get to know each other.”

You watched your idiot friend rush over to the bar for a beat before rolling your eyes. “I can’t believe he did this.”

“We could take him if we team up,” Geralt said, a mischievous glint shone in his eyes when you looked back at him.

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of you then, nor could you stop the blush that crept up your neck when you saw the witcher’s face break into a wider smile.

“Yeah,” you breathed, uncrossing your arms so you could lean over the table toward Geralt conspiratorially, glowing under his open and earnest gaze, “I think we’d make a good team.”

[swan--writes]

geralt and jaskier get whacked with a spell which makes geralt...not so much a djinn as an indentured servant to jaskier with little to no willpower

jaskier spends the whole fic being so fucking careful not to give geralt any outright orders, geralt spends the whole fic being Very Confused as to why jaskier isn't (ab)using his power

it was probably meant to make geralt a slave to the mage but y'know...fanfiction-typical shenanigans

[awitcheress]

What if Geralt crashes both mentally and physically after every single contract, and crashes even harder if he's injured. This started the moment he went out on the path.

The only solace is physical touch, but most of that he has to pay for.

Even so, it's tinged with the smell of fear and disgust from even the whores.

His life's been hellish. Disdain, hatred, suspicion and ridicule has been his life.

Enter, Jaskier. Light, touch, friendship. But does Geralt dare to trust after so many decades of hatred?

[feral-harpy]

I really want more fanfics of Jaskier saving geralt from some Bandits / Nobleman / other by lying that he is his witcher and wouldn't hurt anyone without his permission. And then he would have to prove it.

The whole time Geralt is planing how they could get out of this situation until he hears Jaskier calling him his and everything freezes while he feels his heart hammering in his chest. And in his mind he is like Fuck. He definetly felt something when Jaskier said that.

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 62

After multiple run-ins with sirens and similar creatures, a town has outlawed music, and finds bards to be the spawns of the (metaphorical) devil. Geralt and Jaskier ride into a small rural town, and Geralt tells Jaskier to find them a room and stay in it while he goes on a hunt. Jaskier decides to try and earn them more money by performing! Thus Geralt comes back from his hunt only to hear his bard is about to be executed, and must race to save him. Jaskier is just surprised this is only the second worst reception he's gotten to performing in a backwater town.

[thedemonofcat]

One of the witchers makes a comment about Jaskier “aging well.”

And Jaskier’s like, “Thank you! I put a lot of thought into the amount of wrinkles and grey hair is realistic, yet sexy.”

Geralt, who’s been having a full-on crisis about Jaskier’s mortality: “what?”

With a snap of his fingers, Jaskier gradually transformed, reverting to the youthful appearance Geralt remembered from their first meeting all those years ago. Yet, even then, there had always been something... sharper about him. Or had there? Geralt couldn't quite recall.

"Feels good to get that glamour off," Jaskier remarked with a smile, stretching his arms. "They can get a bit stuffy after a while."

Geralt stared at the bard, utterly dumbfounded. "You were wearing a glamour?"

"I thought you knew," Jaskier replied, his expression mirroring Geralt's confusion. "I’m a Fae. We don’t really age."

[blooms-in-april]

In Oxenfurt there is a sacred tradition, which no one dares encroach upon: no one can be arrested during a theatre performance. And the scholars of Oxenfurt, for all their learning, are a dramatic, suspicious sort, and so the law stands. It's been taken advantage of by many a drunk and disorderly student, taking refuge in the audience of the Grand Theatre to evade the guard, until inevitably, the curtain falls and their reprieve is over.

When they come to arrest Professor Pankrantz, his students won't have it. He had come back to them quiet and broken this winter, more careless with his dissent, more bold in his defiance. He did not seem to care when the warrant was put out for his arrest, as an elvish sympathizer, a sodomite, and a conspirator against Nilfgaard.

"He knows the White Wolf will save him. He always does." Essi had said with false confidence, but the weeks pass and the university's protection wanes and the White Wolf does not come.

"He's not coming." Adrien whispers, hunched over his songbook. "We must do something."

"We will," Essi responds.

When he hears the guards outside his office, Jaskier puts down his quill for the last time. He swings open the door.

"Gentlemen!" He says. The armored faces are featureless, unmoving. "How would you like me?" They grab and cuff him hard across the head, then frogmarch him down the hall. His head rings like a great bell tolling the hour. He can feel the blood trickling out his ear.

There is a great crash, and a scuffle, and a large hand grabs him by the elbow. "Geralt." He whispers.

But it's not. Jeremiah smiles awkwardly, and holds his dented tuba in one hand. "I used to be a blacksmith before this." The quiet youth says. "Never thought it would come in handy again."

"My dear boy." Jaskier says as he's pulled along. "You shouldn't have. You saved my life."

"Your tutoring saved mine during finals. I think we're even, Professor."

Jaskier is hurried in through the backstage door, crowded with students carrying instruments, costumes, sheet music, and props. They all part way to let him through. "Top box, Professor." Essi says, hurrying him. "We saved it just for you."

He sits down, bewildered, as the guards shout outside and the orchestra tunes frantically. The curtain opens just as the guards make it into the auditorium. Everything hushes in that special breath before a show.

Essi steps on stage.

"Thank you and welcome to the members of the Oxenfurt Academy faculty, staff, and student body who have come to support this performance," she says. "We'd also like to welcome representatives of various law enforcement communities who have chosen to join us in the Academy Grand Theatre tonight. In the spirit of the arts, leave all discord at the door, and please enjoy this special performance by the students of Oxenfurt - 'The Adversities of Loving', a tribute to the life and works of Professor Julian Alfred Pankrantz."

She bows. The audience applauds. The play begins.

[mlm-writer]

Old Friend (Geralt x GN!Reader)

Pairing:  Show!Geralt of Rivia x Gender Neutral Reader (can be interpreted as platonic or romantic) Rating: Mature Words: 1670 POV: Second Summary: The Big Tober Day 21 - “I did what I had to do to protect those I love… I had no choice!” Note: Don't @ me for still posting things that were supposed to come out in October. Tags: angst, mention of Ciri & Yennefer, ft. Jaskier & Milva, murder and dark magic

Everyone would agree that Ciri was an unlucky girl with a life tainted by tragedy. Every time you spoke with her about her past, you felt a little pang in your heart. However, sometimes you envied her. The way Geralt reserved his warmest of smiles for his charge, the way the most powerful sorceress spent her time teaching Ciri and the power Ciri possessed sometimes made you feel like she was, in some way, a very lucky girl. 

You spent life on the run with Ciri, Geralt and Yennefer. Most of the time you felt like you were family, sometimes you felt like an extra, an unnecessary weight, but no one told you to leave. You had nothing to teach Ciri that Geralt and Yennefer couldn’t. They had it covered from sword to spells to alchemy. 

Then things kept going to shit and before you knew it, Geralt was flirting with death and Ciri was missing. You wanted to go find her, but Yennefer insisted you stayed with Geralt. “You can heal anything!” Geralt exclaimed as you exhausted yourself once more. He was capable of loud verbal abuse. You should’ve counted that as a win, but it was hard to, when Geralt was still bed-bound. 

“I’m doing everything I can!” You yelled back. Milva entered, her hand landing on your shoulder. It has been the same song over and over again ever since Jaskier revealed Ciri was on her way to Nilfgaard. Geralt proceeded to demand more of you. Milva forced you out. Jaskier was waiting for you with a brew of herbs that would help you recover your strength. “I’m really doing everything I can,” you sobbed by the fire. 

Jaskier put his arm around you, comforting you the best he could. “I know. He knows. He is just… Geralt.” You leaned against the bard, letting his body’s warmth seep into yours. You sat by the fire until it got dark. Jaskier eventually let you be to mull over your thoughts in peace. When you had the strength you used your magic on those that did appreciate it. You were weak, but even a little was for many enough to pull their foot out of the grave. 

Exhaustion gnawed at your bones. Your muscles felt like they were weighed down by the state of the world. You took a stroll out of the camp, trying to avoid Jaskier and Milva. They meant well, but their words were not enough to distract you from the power you lacked. 

When the lights of the camp were far behind you, you stopped walking. You couldn’t hold yourself up anymore, knees colliding with the muddy ground of the forest. From a secret pocket sewn into the coat you’ve had for over two decades, you procured an amulet you haven’t worn since you met Geralt all those years ago. The deep red gem reflected the light of the moon onto your eyes. Deep within the stone you could see an old friend. You promised Geralt you’d throw this trinket away; you promised you would never give in to temptation again, but despair had forced you quite literally to your knees. You clenched the charm tightly in your fist. “All is fair in love and war,” you whispered as you stared down at your fist, noticing how red light seeped between your fingers. “These are times of war and… I love him.”

Those words spoken aloud strengthened your resolve. You closed your eyes as you put the thin golden chain over your head, letting the amulet fall right where your heart was. As soon as that metal hit your chest, you felt an old friend occupying your mind once more. “I always knew you’d come back,” it told you. It gave you visions of how to help Geralt. The methods dancing on the grey moral spectrum, but led by these visions, you made your way back to the camp. You entered the tents of the sleeping patients you had helped earlier. You touched those that you didn’t think would make it to the morning. Their life force entered through your fingertips. They breathed their final breath. You felt the weak energy pooling together. One tent, two, three, you passed though the whole camp, taking what you needed from those that were not likely to hold onto it for long anyway. Each time you took, darkness rose to your skin, revealing your deeds in the night. 

Your veins had turned black by the time you entered the final tent. Geralt was fast asleep as well, too injured to even hear you entering, too unwell to open his eyes and ask you what you were doing there. A black tear rolled down your cheek as you placed your hand on his chest and let go of all the energy you had collected. The life energy of the people that died that night flowed from your chest down to your fingertips. In his sleep, Geralt inhaled deeply as the energy filled him. It only took a moment, but it felt like an eternity as you felt the weight of the lives you took to save the one most dear to you. 

When you were devoid of all the energy but your own, you collapsed on the ground, legs too tired to keep you up. You took deep breaths, trying to avoid looking at your hands. However, in the end you just needed to know how bad things were. You raised your palms, the sight - though expected - still horrifying. Your skin had blackened from the dark magic. Your hands felt fine though. “You did well. This is only the beginning of what we can achieve. You’re meant to take what you please,” the old friend’s voice echoed through your skull. The words were reassuring, but you knew all too well where things could lead. You reached for the amulet, ready to rip it off you. “You need me. Without me you’re useless. You can’t protect the ones you love.” 

Geralt had you once believe otherwise, but it only took one glance towards him to show you where his faith in you had led him to. Even the great White Wolf could be wrong sometimes. Defeated, you slowly let go of the amulet, allowing it to occupy its old spot. “Everything will be fine. You will be fine,” the being spoke through the amulet to you. You had heard those words a million times from Jaskier, but only now did they actually soothe you. 

The next morning you woke up from stirring on the bed. You hadn’t dared to leave the tent and slept on a chair. “Geralt,” you whispered, aware of your surroundings the moment your ears picked up on the rustling of blankets. You forgot what you looked like, immediately rising from the chair and joining Geralt at his side. You inspected the wound on his leg, but it was not there anymore, a new scar adorning his skin. 

Your eyes didn’t meet Geralt’s until he sat up on his own. “What did you do?” His voice dripped of venom. You lifted your head to meet his yellow eyes, darkened by the deeply furrowed eyebrows. Your throat felt tight, so tight that not a single syllable could make it through to the cold space between you and the Witcher. He called your name and reached out. You were frozen in place as his calloused fingers traced the black marks on your face. “What did you do?” He repeated the question, emphasising each word with urgency. 

Black tears pooled in your eyes, the first few already rolling down your cheeks by the time you found your voice once more. “I did what I had to do to protect those I love…” You swallowed a lump in your throat. “I had no choice.” Your voice trembled, each word shaking more than the previous one. 

Geralt was visibly seething as he grabbed your arm, his grip tight. “What did you do?” He demanded, voice booming in the small space. You tried to free yourself. 

“Geralt, please, you’re hurting me!” “Say it!” 

He knew you. He knew you from the moment he met you. He knew the person you could be once you gave up on your ‘old friend’. He knew what you did then and he knew what you did last night. He knew, but he didn’t want to. He wanted to be wrong. He wanted to have mistaken that familiar amulet around your neck. However, things were exactly as it seemed and just like things never changed, Jaskier and Milva came in right on que. 

Jaskier called out for Geralt, tried to calm him. He immediately commented on how he seemed to be better, proceeded to ask how. Meanwhile, Milva freed you of Geralt’s grip. A crowd had formed at the entrance, but you couldn’t see anyone in the room but Geralt. “How many have died tonight?” Geralt demanded to know, Jaskier and Milva now in between you two. They tried to calm him. “How many?” He roared. 

His fury eventually ripped the answer out of you. “I don’t know! I only took from those that were not likely to make it to the morning anyway.” 

“Jaskier…” Geralt’s voice was quieter now he got his answer from you. He turned to the bard. “How many people died tonight?” Jaskier turned to Milva, hoping she held the answer. 

“42,” she spoke with surprising steadiness. She then looked at you, shaming you with her eyes alone. She was not the only one who despised your existence after that night. Jaskier pleaded for your life, then left with Geralt to find Ciri. You had to go your own way, fend for yourself once more. If it wasn’t for your aching heart, it was like you never met the Witcher at all. He never wanted to see you again, but even as you walked with your backs facing each other, you felt like you would see him again. It was a funny thing… destiny. 

—————

REBLOG TO SUPPORT YOUR FANFIC WRITERS

Likes do not help exposure!A comment in tags or replies can sustain a writer for months!

[annmarcus63]

“If life could give me a blessing, it’d be to take you off my hands”

The wind whips around them and Jaskier fears it will be strong enough to carry away the pieces of his broken heart. But instead of succumbing to shock and sadness, fury and indignation helps him to finally confront the witcher. 

"Oh, no, witcher, you're not doing this." the bard stomps all the way down to meet the other's tense back. "What, since you can't keep the witch, now you don't want me either? Well, guess what, witcher, I'm not a dog you can kick whenever you feel like it.” He shouts at him and in the last sentence, with both hands, he pushes Geralt's shoulders, who, of course, does not move an inch.

"Go away, bard." Jaskier is laughing his head off, he thinks he looks crazy, but couldn't care less. 

"Oh, oh, oh, oh, no, not this again. Do you really think you can erase all our history by giving me an impersonal title" What bothers him most is Geralt's passive face, when seconds ago it was full of what Jaskier might call hatred.

"Go away, Jaskier."

"No," he replies, closing the gap between them, another step back and they would both fall over the edge. Finally the mask of calm falls from the witcher's face, Geralt grunts visibly annoyed and walks past Jaskier, up the hill. 

“Why can't you ever do what you are told?!” he says as he turns to look at him. Jaskier stops in his tracks. True, he rarely does what he's told to do knowing that there are always better options. Like when Geralt was trying to chase him away in the early years. Jaskier did the right thing, he decided to stay. 

"I am not a child, Geralt. I know exactly what's good for me, and that's not it.”

"Then you're an idiot. What's in my best interest is to get as far away from you as possible." Jaskier whimpers reluctantly, he might as well have run him through with his sword and thrown his body off the cliff. He can't help but feel like something insignificant, not worth holding on to even in hard times.

Geralt is on his way up again when Jaskier calls out to him. 

“Then, I gather it was in your best interest to let me kiss you, right, Geralt?” It's rare to take the witcher by surprise, much more so when it's Jaskier, but this time Geralt had to pause to take a breath and process the words, just as he would before confronting a monster "All those kisses I gave you at night, or holding hands for even a few minutes, were in your best interest, I suppose.” Jaskier adjusts his hair, not caring that the wind would ruffle it in a matter of seconds. The sun slowly dips below the mountains on the horizon, inking the sky a deep purple color that unfortunately reminds him of the witch who started this. Confident and resolute, he climbs up to face Geralt with the courage of a stupid rabbit in front of a wolf's mouth. "It's funny because I thought, silly old me, that they were about more than convenience, I even thought you enjoyed them." Geralt's lip lifts in an attempted snarl, and the truth was that all of Jaskier's instincts were telling him that he should flee, not because he was afraid of the witcher, but because it is the cunning thing to do.

"You thought wrong." 

“Oh? Did I?” The bard mockingly interpellates him. Suddenly Geralt sprints to get away from him, it would be funny except that the bard's blood is boiling with anger and adrenaline, which prompts him to do something idiotic. In a flurry of limbs, Jaskier throws himself at the witcher, wrapping his arms around him to hold him in place, Geralt doesn't fight it because he knows he could hurt him. Jaskier seizes the moment to take his face in his hands and bring him close, their noses meeting with a certain rudeness. "You were mine. For fleeting moments, you were. But I am yours, my dear, don't you see?" Jaskier does what he thinks is necessary, kisses him on the corner of his mouth, but Geralt turns to meet his lips.

Fic here

[letmelickyoureyeballs]

I need a fic of book, game, and TV show Jaskier meeting. TV Jaskier wondering why the other two go by Dandelion. Both book and TV versions looking at the game version like “So this is what we become…interesting.” Game Dandelion calming the other two down, “Oh yeah no, we still get into trouble and are annoying as hell and Geralt still loves me.” Book and game version comforting TV version and telling him TV Geralt is on thin fucking ice and that he’s not really like that, and wondering if they’ve met Zoltan yet because COME ON BEST CHARACTER!

Game and book Geralt are trying to beat up TV version for even looking at the bard wrong let alone THAT FUCKING CLIFF SCENE! Book Geralt being pissed but also jealous of how hot the other two are.