End of the Year Updates (2022)
Thank you all for hanging around and continuing to be amazing friends, writers, artists, and readers for the Witcher fandom! You have all been incredibly supportive and make me so glad that I am a part of this too. To that end, I’ve collected all the fics I’ve completed or are in progress this year.
Links and descriptions under the cut.
In-Progress:
The Sin Eater
“He doesn’t have much time now,” the demon observed, “Even Witchers need oxygen. This is your only hope of saving him.”
Jaskier’s face went firm and determined, turning back to the creature with no sign of his earlier hesitation.
The demon looked amused. “Are you sure he’d worth giving up so much?”
“All that and more,” Jaskier whispered.
Then he stepped into the circle. ————————— To save Geralt, Jaskier lets himself be possessed by the demon he was hunting. Will there be anything left of the bard for Geralt to save?
The Fixer
In the world of the wealthiest members of society, there is only one man who you call when there is a problem that needs to disappear. Whether it's killing off your competition or ensuring you have the blackmail you need to keep your enemies at bay, Jaskier--better known as Dandelion--has made a living getting his hands dirty.
So, when the offer comes to track down the missing child of a billionaire CEO, Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier is more than happy to go undercover and get the information they need to ensure Geralt doesn't become a problem.
But what happens when he starts to have feelings for the kind, smartass barista and his strange family?
Completed Multi-Chapter Works:
Lark of My Heart
“What do I smell like to you?”
Geralt looked up from where he was sharpening a blade to frown at the bard. “What?”
“You’re always sniffing around me,” Jaskier explained with a smile that covered the sheepish blush on his cheeks, “And I've read that Witchers have a keen sense of smell so tell me, what do I smell like to you?”
Home. ___________________________
After the mountain, Geralt faces the reality of what his temper has destroyed and tries to pretend like he's fine with that. (He isn't.)
Call Me Sunshine (Jaskier/Eskel)
It becomes a habit to keep an eye on the front door every Wednesday. Jaskier told him after the second week that he tries to grab the flowers on his lunch break. It’s how he found the shop in the first place.
“I tutor a kid near here,” he tells Eskel as he watches the florist trim the thorns off some David Austen roses. “He’s a menace, but his mom wants him to learn piano and is willing to pay for all the grey hairs I’m getting.”
“You play piano?”
“And a few other instruments. My favorite is the lute.”
Eskel grins a little. “A lute? Do you moonlight as a bard too?” ___________________________
Or, a florist AU with enough misunderstandings and pining to fill an entire season of a CW show.
Dying for You (Again and Again)
By his understandably shoddy memory, Jaskier had died over 1300 times since he first drew breath several hundred years ago.
Somehow, none of those deaths ever seemed to hurt as much as the dreams of Geralt. ___________________________________
Or, the Old Guard AU no one asked for, but I wrote.
With My Last Breath
Jaskier is tortured by Nilfgaard--angst, whump, and fluff follow. In that order.
Wolves and Men
There was a challenge in his expression. A dare for Geralt to cast him aside once more.
Like he had on the mountain.
If life could give me one blessing—Geralt shook his head to banish the memory of those vicious words. Words he’d had plenty of time to regret in the years since Jaskier had walked away. Since Gerat had sent him away.
“Jaskier,” he whispered, voice thick. ________________________ Jaskier thought he'd found the perfect alpha to follow for the rest of his life only to be cast aside. He should have known better--the White Wolf always hunts alone.
If Wishing Made It So
Geralt stared down into the ravine and the glittering rocks below and wished the rumors of the Witcher’s missing emotions were true. He wished for a lot of things, then, staring down at the smear of blue silk stained red.
None of them came true. ———-
On a hunt that goes bad, Geralt is forced to imagine a world where his bard will no longer walk at his side.
Series:
Villainous Universe
Series featuring a supervillain Jaskier falling for the superhero Witcher, Geralt of Rivia. Contains explicit content as well as all my favorite angsty tropes.
The Sentinel/Guide Verse
Jaskier was half way through a lackluster rendition of one of his least popular songs when his world went static.
In his ears, a foreign heartbeat thundered, ragged and wounded. It felt as though his lungs had gone sideways with the sensation. Even the air itself tasted like it was charged with lightning, bright and bitter as ozone. Deep in his gut, he felt something urging himself forward, pulling him like some invisible string towards an unknown destination.
Something brushed across his senses, rough as tree bark, and sinking into his skin to crawl like ants beneath. He froze, eyes darting around the room like he could spot whoever it was that had sent his senses scrambling against the hard earned shields he was always careful to maintain. In his hands, his fingers faltered, melody disappearing beneath the wave of wrong that felt like it was choking him.
The answer was simple--and impossible.
There was a Sentinel here.
The Full Cops and Robbers Verse
An enemies to lovers story revolving around a charming, mysterious thief and the cop that is absolutely done with his shit.
The Witcher Soldier Verse
Geralt barely managed to slam the pommel of his sword up in a glancing blow that shattered the metal latch holding the Soldier’s mask in place. The Soldier rolled into the movement with a dancer’s grace and came to his full height just as easily. For a moment, his hands reached up to run over the exposed skin, before he slowly turned to face Geralt once more.
The Witcher froze in a mixture of horror and near-frantic hope.
He stared into the eyes of a dead man and whispered, “Jaskier?”
The Soldi--the bard frowned at him in confusion and spoke with a voice rough with disuse,
“Who the hell is Jaskier?” ___________________________
Or, the Winter Soldier AU.
A Light in the Dark Series
One will rise And one will fail, But none can escape destiny’s call. ____________
Jaskier is a bard with a secret. For all the world knows, he strolled onto a stage ten years ago and made a name for himself as the sidekick of the White Wolf. But what came before? And will he be able to escape destiny's call?
A Three Part Series Exploring My Take on a Feral Version of Jaskier
One Shots:
Star Crossed
“It’s not true.” The man’s voice is rough as a knife over gravel and is short enough to make the bard falter at his tone. It takes him a moment to realize he’s referring to the story he’d told as part of the festival.
“You don’t believe in the lost lovers?” he asks, offended to the very core of his romantic heart. He stands a little straighter to glare up at the larger man. “I’ll have you know that my story comes from the works of Master Essi herself--she knew the lovers herself. It's the foundation story of our whole town and this festival! How can you say the story isn’t true?”
A shadow crosses over the stranger’s face and eyes that flash gold flick away from the bard to stare at the trees and the lonely hill. Despite himself, the bard feels his heart ache at the grief in his expression.
“He didn’t come back.”
Burn For You
Jaskier twitched helplessly as the women filed out of the mill and left him where he was bound on the floor. He arched his back slightly, trying to see to where the fire was slowly creeping from the bed to drip onto the floor. It hit the edge of the floor and he closed his eyes, going limp with exhausted pain.
His body ached as he lay on the ground, bleeding. The floor was cold at his back and noise came through staticky and broken like a voice through a waterfall. He could just vaguely hear footsteps thudding toward him accompanied by shouting. Still, his vision refused to focus, and the only thing he could identify around him was the flickering red of the flames reflected in the cloud heavy with rain that would never be enough to stop the fire spreading through the mill.
All he could hope was that the smoke killed him before he began to burn.
Gilded With Blood (Aiden/Lambert)
Aiden watched the slowly growing pool of his life’s blood dripping onto the red rock below him. His chest rose and fell in ragged little gasps made awkward by the sword still pinning him to the earth. Pain was far away now and he knew only the cold chill of death would replace it.
As his eyes closed, he couldn’t help but think:
This was going to destroy Lambert.
A Gentleman’s Guide to Seducing Your Fiancé
It is a truth universally known that Geralt fucking hated Viscount Julien de Lettenhove.
Their rivalry was the stuff of legends, the sort that drew the eye and the idle gossip of members of court. It ensured that each time they came within five feet of the other, the entire room would go still, watchful. Eager. For what could be more delicious, more exciting than a fight between the Crown Prince and his new betrothed?
I’ll Sleep Forever Next to You
“Geralt?” Eskel’s voice distracts him from his spiraling thoughts. “What’s wrong? Where’s the lark?”
Geralt seizes on his brother in arms, near desperate for someone who might know what to do. “He’s sick. He’s, he’s coughing, feverish--”
“How long?” The older Witcher looks like he does before battle, steady and fierce.
“I, I’m not sure.” Abruptly, Jaskier’s early night has all manner of new meanings. Had he been feeling poorly that long? His brow furrows. “He sounded like he was having trouble breathing last night.” _____________________________________
Or, three Witchers freak out over a bard with a cold.
Don’t Leave Me
Jaskier’s hands tighten around Geralt before slowly losing their grip, spasming where they fall limp. “Ger--geralt--”
“Don’t you dare,” he snarls back, “Don’t you dare try to give me your fucking goodbyes. You are not dying.”
“S--silly man.” Jaskier’s smile is full of painful fondness. “Would you fight death for me?”
Geralt swings him up into his arms and nearly weeps at the sound of familiar hooves running in his direction. “Every. Fucking. Time.”
Between One Heartbeat and the Next
Please. Please, not this.
Don’t make him listen to Jaskier’s voice beginning to strain in a way it never did on stage even as he continued to reassure Geralt.
“It’s okay… Geralt, you’ll be okay.”
Not without you.
“You’re...gonna be fine in...just a little while.”
You won’t.
“ ‘s...not...so bad...like going to sleep.”
Nononononopleaseno
Waiting for the Sun
Jaskier was dying.
The confirmation came with each cramping, shallow breath and spots of grey drowning out the mottled stone walls that would become his tomb. After all the years he’d spent terrified of this moment, it was almost anticlimactic to realize he was too tired now to fight back any longer. He was dying. The world would continue without him.
Blood dripped from his fingertips and formed erratic patterns against his own skin. Over the sound of his racing heart he could hear footsteps and murmured voices that made him want to vomit or rage in fury.
They were watching him. He didn’t need to look up into the window to see the strange faces twisted into cruel smiles, pleased at his suffering. He hated them.
Not a Damsel, Not in Distress
The one closest to him raised his trembling sword with a panicked expression at the unexpected violence. “Wh--what the fuck? You’re just a bard.”
Jaskier’s smile was more a baring of his teeth, made more alarming with the blood sprayed across his skin and clothing. “Your first mistake was believing that.” _____________________________
Geralt and Jaskier are ambushed by a pack of mercenaries. It was really their fault for believing the yellow eyed Witcher was the only threat.
Frantic
Geralt was hanging limply against the rough bark. Two daggers kept him pinioned like a bug in place and left dark streaks of drying blood down his arms and exposed chest. Silver hair was matted close to his forehead from a sluggishly bleeding would that left golden eyes hazy and unfocused. Worst still were the bruises littering every inch of exposed skin like a collage of torment.
His Witcher had been tortured.
———
There was a name for the emotion burning like fire in his blood, eating away at the dandelion bard that had made his living seeking the pleasure of others. A simple phrase that barely encompasses the new tension in his bones and made his mind focus with singular, violent intent.
Wrath.
A Blade in the Back
There was a flicker of movement at his side and he felt something slam into his unprotected flank. Magic blew past him, ruffling his hair but leaving him unharmed. Surprised by the sudden attack, Geralt stumbled and whirled to face whoever had hit him.
Only instead of a beast, he saw a bard.
Jaskier clutched at his chest where a dark stain seemed to spread over his heart. His bright eyes stared at Geralt helplessly, mouth opening and closing without sound. Geralt stared back at him in shock until Jaskier dropped heavily to his knees, collapsing like a puppet with his strings cut. ___________
In the midst of a battle, Jaskier is hit with an unknown curse. All at once Geralt finds himself locked in battle with the only man he wants to protect.
The Sweetest Poison
“And what do you want in return? Your freedom? Your safety?”
Jaskier didn’t flinch from her scorn and Geralt could see his knuckles go white with the force of his grip around the small vial. “Save him.”
The mage stared at him for a beat before letting out a burst of laughter that echoed off the wall like the flutter of vultures wings. “All this trouble for the Witcher?” she asked incredulously, “Tell me, boy, do you really think he would do the same for you? That he cares at all what happens to the bard who follows after him like a lost puppy?” She stepped forward, confident as a soldier preparing his death blow. “Oh, I know who you are, bard. I watched you trailing after the Witcher, eager for every scrap of affection or interest he’ll toss your way. I’ve seen the way you look at him.”
Jaskier was breathing heavily now, jaw clenched tight enough that Geralt could see the muscles fluttering with effort.
“Were you hoping this ill-conceived rescue mission would be enough to make him finally notice you?” she murmured with a mocking smile, “Poor little bard--always singing of love but never truly experiencing it.”
Into the Jaskierverse Additions:
Interlude: The Thief
Jaskier opened his mouth to cry out, to scream, anything, but it was ripped away by the jagged shards of reality tearing through him. It was the djinn all over again. The agony of watching Geralt disappearing beneath the rubble of the house. The first chill that always signaled Geralt returning to Kaer Morhen. The pull of power and magic that he now recognized as the moment before a spell hit and he was left with no option but to wait for the pain to hit--helpless in the whims of an unnatural force.
Only this time there was nothing to stop the raw power that seemed determined to unravel him down to his very soul.
He
was
remade.
Not Without You
“Geralt?” he finally whispered, a fragile hope in the familiar word.
“I’m here,” Geralt said as he crossed the room to stand next to the table. “I’ve got you.”
Kicking aside the corpse of the mage, he fumbled with the restraints until he was able to release Jaskier’s arms and legs. They twitched weakly against him and Geralt ran his hands over the rough shirt and pants Jaskier had been dressed in, searching for any other injuries.
“Geralt?”
“It’s me,” Geralt soothed. “They won’t hurt you again, I promise.”
Jaskier’s hands found an anchor against the front of Geralt’s shirt and he shuddered violently. “I thought...I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.”
