#geraltskier

[sometimesraven]

@febuwhump Day 19: "I didn't mean to"

Fandom: The Witcher Whumpee: Jaskier

Summary: It was a matter of time before Jaskier had to kill. He's not taking it well.

Warnings: Accidental murder, blood & injury

AO3 Link || Masterlist

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Jaskier felt the moment the knife sunk into flesh. Knew the moment the blood coated his hand, thick and uncomfortably warm and absolutely ruining his coat in the process, that he'd done something irreversible.

It hadn't been a conscious decision. The damned soldier took advantage of the chaos to corner Jaskier, it was all he could do to scramble for the nearest hitt-y, stabb-y thing and swing it wildly. How was he to know it'd be the knife a fallen body was holding?

So now here he was, with the weight of a struggling, gasping corpse-to-be atop him. With a great shove he managed to roll away, scrambling to his feet and staring back at the mess he'd made like a great tragedy he could scarcely tear his gaze from. The man— the man he'd just killed — choked for a moment longer, blood bubbling from his lips, then fell still.

Jaskier met his eyes just as the soul drained from them. Glassy, empty shock staring right through him.

"Jaskier!" Geralt's voice reached his ears through some distant haze, unbelievably strong arm around his waist before he even knew he'd buckled. His body felt heavy; neck-deep in sludge. He still couldn't tear his gaze away.

"I… d-didn't-.." He couldn't get the words out. What was he even thinking? Even his thoughts felt coated in sludge. Or perhaps coated in blood. This wasn't him— it wasn't what he was built for. He was just a bard, this… this wasn't meant to happen.

"Jaskier." Yennefer's voice, this time. Unbelievably soft hands cupping his face, forcing him to look at her, putting herself between him and the body— no, the man he had killed. The person. "You did what you had to. It will mean nothing if we don't get out of here."

Her gaze was equally stern and concerned, parting the blood from his face just enough that his eyes could water. Jaskier's mouth was dry, but he nodded blankly, letting them guide him stumbling away from the battlefield. It seemed his fellows had cleared this wave — though he could hear horses in the distance, drawing ever-closer.

They found an isolated copse of trees by a river, sat him down on a fallen log. Jaskier could hear them scurrying about, making sure they were secure and offloading what little gear they had. No fire yet: not until they were sure they were clear. Jaskier could hear his mind registering it all like ticking off a list. Automatic. Detached.

He couldn't get that man's face from his mind. He had to have a name. A family. Home to go back to. Just like anyone else. Did he send letters home to a lover or child; just detailed enough that they knew the horrors he was seeing, just vague enough they'd not know the worst of it? Did they wait for word night after night that he was alive? Now that word would never come. This man, no matter his crimes, had a name and a life and a story Jaskier had just snuffed out without even thinking.

He only registered his hands were held when cool water began to soothe them. Jaskier blinked down at Yennefer, watching her methodically clean the blood from his skin. He almost wanted to stop her. The evidence needed to stay. He needed to see what he'd done. Everybody did.

"I know what you're thinking," Geralt's voice came from beside him, "Don't torture yourself. He made his choices and you had none."

"I had every choice." Jaskier's voice didn't sound like his own, thick and dull.

"Fight back, or die," Yennefer muttered, "That's the choice you had. As insufferable as you can be, I think a lot of people will be pleased to hear what you chose."

"At the end of it all, he will be found and honoured," Geralt added gruffly, "Do you think they would offer you the same treatment?"

Jaskier could scarcely scrape a thought together to counter that, much as he wanted to. He fell silent again, watching the blood disappear from his hands even as the feeling of it remained.

"Hey," she hummed once she was done, her hand lifting to brush a tear from his cheek, "Try to put it out of your mind, bard. Easier said than done, I know, but… the load becomes lighter over time."

Jaskier didn't respond. He didn't think it should get lighter. If this was the weight they had to live with as fighters he was more certain than ever that he wanted no part of it.

He scarcely slept, that night. Even when Geralt and Yennefer no doubt heard him sob and moved closer to wrap themselves around him like a child having nightmares. There was no song on his tongue that could soothe this ache. No consolation prize. Just glassy eyes behind his own, and the heavy silence thick with blood.

[lesdemonium]

I’d Be the Choiceless Hope

Rating: E Words: 45,188 Chapters: 16/16 Summary:

“Such a nice, beautiful sound,” the fae crooned. “If only he were this way always.”

Julian’s mother stood up. She claimed she was prepared to stop the fae, to protect her baby, but in Julian’s darkest moments he doubted this part of the story. His mother loved him, of that he had no doubt, but she had been young and weary, and even years later, she couldn’t quite get the twinge of exhaustion out of her eyes when she recalled Julian’s infancy. Even if she had been keen on protecting him, the fae was too close, too fast, too set on his plan.

“A gift, for the new mother,” the fae continued. He leaned a hand in to stroke Julian’s cheek. “I give you the gift of obedience.”

As a baby, Jaskier was visited by a fae, who gifted Jaskier's mother with Jaskier's obedience. As Jaskier grew older, the "gift" became more of a curse.

Ella Enchanted AU

Authors Note: Hello! It’s been a full year since I first published Ella Enchanted AU. I’m blown away with the response and the feedback I’ve gotten and wanted to do some sort of celebration. Unfortunately, it is a Monday, so all I can manage is a repost. But I’ll be brainstorming some ideas to celebrate, and would love some feedback on if there was anything in particular anyone would like to see.

Thank you to everyone who read, kudos’d, bookmarked, shared with their friends, etc. It means the world to me that this crossed into 2k kudos and over 500 bookmarks!

Read on AO3

[fandom-gt]

GT Fluff prompt 15 with Geralt and Jaskier

15. Person B accidentally frightens tiny Person A. A hides under the bed and cries while B apologizes profusely and begs A to come back. Just as the giant is about to give up, A comes out and hesitantly accepts B’s apology.

There are times in Geralt’s life wherein he does, in fact, feel like the asshole he sets out to be. It isn’t often, typically he doesn’t care, but having stomped into the room throwing down a bloody sword and a monster’s entire head with all his Witcher glory on full, aggressive display just to see the smallest little human-shaped creature on the floor before him– well, it wasn’t a great first impression.

He can hardly blame the thing for bolting under the bed.

After taking the time to wrap his head around what it was he saw, the subtle frustration at himself is still in his voice when he unconvincingly calls, “You can come out. I’m not going to hurt you.”

But it sounds like he’s done with this entire fucking world, it sounds mean and snappish even to his own ears, and it’s to no one’s surprise that there’s no answer from the entity beneath his rented bed.

He sighs deeply.

He rolls his eyes to the ceiling.

For the love of all the gods.

“You really want to stay under there all night? I don’t sleep, you know. It’s bound to be uncomfortable.” 

Distantly, quietly, he hears a tiny voice faintly call from beneath the bed, “Fuck off.”

Geralt’s lips twitch, half annoyed and half amused. Another labored sigh, and with no small amount of resignation he lowers himself to the floor at the side of the bed, and gently lifts the bed skirt to peer underneath it.

There the poor pathetic thing is, all the way at the back holding a tiny little lute by the neck like a baseball bat as though he intends to whack any venturing fingers.

Truly, truly he can’t help but be amused - except the little man is wide-eyed and practically shaking, so he stows his expression for now and struggles to figure out how it is people do the thing where they… look… empathetic  or at the very least not exceptionally terrifying. 

“I give you my word,” He says with solemnity, “If you come out I won’t touch a hair on your head.”

To which Jaskier barks out an incredulous scoff, “Right, sure, you don’t need to touch the hair if you chop it off at the neck like your beast over there.”

Geralt flicks his eyes to the severed head across the room, some mangy gnarled thing with a big snout and a long tongue hanging out to drag the floor. A beat, and he does a sort of wavering shrug as though to say yes, okay, I see how that might look bad, however, “It was eating people. I’m taking it back as proof for the coin. I have no interest in valiantly slaying something the size of a little girl’s doll.”

“Excuse you,” he squalls out, lute wavering like he means to swing anyway, “I’ll have you know that for my people I’m above average in both height and– size, so, again, if you’ll fuck kindly off–”

Geralt’s lips press into a flat line, and he drops the bed skirt.

“Suit yourself,” He says in a very put-on I don’t care tone. A deliberate pause. “I suppose you wouldn’t be interested in any of this wine, then.”

A second passes.

Two seconds.

Then a little hand lifts the skirt and tentatively peeks out to repeat, “Wine?”

Amusement flares again.

“That’s what I thought.”

[forestdwellingrat]

When “her sweet kiss” comes on and you’re thinking about Geralt being mean to Jaskier at the end of s1:

[sometimesraven]

Less Than Stellar Judgement

Whumptober No.13: Cold Compress | Infection | “I don’t feel so good.”

Fandom: The Witcher POV Character: Jaskier Whumpee: Jaskier

Jaskier is absolutely fine, and not at all seriously in need of medical attention.

AO3 Link

Of course Jaskier had managed to walk directly into a Kikimore nest. If Geralt hadn't swooped in so quickly he might have met a rather swift and undignified end then and there.

Of course, they managed to get a swipe in. Jaskier had managed to pass it off as superficial -- there had been enough trouble caused by him as it was without having to steer Geralt off his path just to find the bard a healer.

He was beginning to regret that decision midway through the second day of travel. The gash on his abdomen tightened and pulled with every step, and Jaskier could feel the fabric of his shirt pulling at the barely-formed scab and slowly dampening -- with blood or weeping he didn't want to know. Somehow it hurt worse than when it was fresh, radiating dull, aching pain through his stomach and slowing his pace.

Still, he pushed on, even as his forehead prickled with sweat and his head began to pound. Geralt was riding ahead at this point, oblivious as Jaskier trailed behind in stumbling steps. It was only when his chest tightened and his vision swam that he stopped, trying desperately to blink away the unfortunately familiar heavy feeling in his skull.

"Geralt?" he managed, his voice trembling almost as much as his hands were. "I don't think-.. I don't feel-.."

The last thing he saw was the wide intensity of shocked yellow eyes as Geralt all but leapt from Roach's back, darting to catch him just as his vision blackened.

The next hours were a blur of nausea and bright lights; twisted visions of scenery that might have been passing. Jaskier could feel his lips moving, hear the babbling nothing that replaced his intention to reassure his Witcher or apologise. He was always a liability, this was ridiculous, it was fine...

He awoke on what felt like a bed, rough and uneven under his back. Blurry figures darted around him, prodding and poking and Gods, it stung. There were potions and cold towels being dabbed and rubbed across his wound, drawing whimpering complaints with every sharp sting and burn of liquid. Make it stop...

He opened his eyes again, and it was only Geralt. The Witcher was sitting at his bedside, watching over him like the wolf on guard he was. Jaskier could see his lute carefully rested atop their bags like Geralt had personally made sure it was looked after.

"In hindsight," Jaskier murmured, his voice weak and his chest heavy, "That was... maybe, perhaps, not great judgement on my part."

"Hm."

Jaskier didn't miss the fondness in his silent, judging gaze.

[lesdemonium]

zoe’s geraskier ficlets

** = modern au E = explicit

“Things You Said” prompts

Things you said when you thought I was asleep **

Things you were afraid to say

Things you said in our vows **

Things you said in the spur of the moment

Things you said when you were drunk

Things you said when I was crying

Things you said with clenched fists **

Things you said when you asked me to marry you **

Things you said in the dark **

Specific AU prompts

prostitute/client AU **E

waking up with amnesia AU

passive aggressive florist AU **

meeting at a festival AU **

cult AU

roaring 20s AU

royalty AU

“Why does my neighbor have to be an aspiring opera singer?” AU **

Prompt Mashup

baby fic + marriage of convenience **

Sentence Starters

“Are we on a date right now?” **

Kiss Fics

soft drunk kisses

top of head kisses & routine kisses where the other person presents their cheek/forehead for the hello/goodbye kiss without even looking up from what they’re doing  **

breaking the kiss to say something, staying so close that you’re murmuring into each other’s mouths

following the kiss with a series of kisses down the neck

one small kiss, pulling away for an instant, then devouring each other

Lazy morning kisses before they’ve even opened their eyes, still mumbling half-coherently, not wanting to wake up

top of head kisses

Goodbye Kisses? Soft and a bit desperate, trying to make the moment last longer and simultaneously hoping that it's over already and the person has come back to you again?

moving around while kissing, stumbling over things, pushing each other back against the wall/onto the bed & kissing so desperately that their whole body curves into the other person’s

How bout not knowing if/when they'll see each other again because of (misc danger), but there's no time - a hasty goodbye kiss?

Other

confident!geralt confessing his love to jaskier

Romtober Fics

[ashes-of-broken-dreams]

ignorant delusions

Pairing: Geralt x Jaskier

Summary: Jaskier is realizing just how long he and Geralt have been traveling. Geralt realizes how long he’s waited. They both realize that they are bumbling idiots made for each other.

Warnings: Swearing, because, you know, Geralt.

hi y’all! this is my first fic & i’m insanely nervous posting this so please be nice o3o

also i feel like this being from a floofy smol boi™ Jaskier’s perspective, it’s a little more “carefree”, i would say? once i get into Geralt’s perspective or other characters from other shows i feel like i’m really going to be able to delve into the poetic, old-time style of writing i love. thank you for reading!

Jaskier didn’t notice it slowly, over time. It hit him with full force, almost the emotional version of the fight with the djinn.

He and Geralt had been standing at a bar in the town they were currently passing through. The bard could see the innkeeper’s eyes widen at the Witcher’s yellow-eyed glare, and immediately ran to calm the situation.

“No, do not fear, my good sir. That’s his happy face!”

Bam. Like a pile of bricks.

Jaskier could tell when Geralt was happy. Through that facade of a dark demeanor. Had he just been traveling with him for too long? No, that couldn’t be it. He had met old, longtime friends of Geralt that still couldn’t differentiate between his happy face and his ready-to-destroy-you face.

To be fair, they were the same face.

So... he was special? He could see the emotions of an emotionless person. Jaskier wasn’t confident just any traveler that had the honor of hitching a ride with the famous Witcher could do...that.

It hits the bard with such emotion that he has to sit down on the bar stool he had been standing over. He was met with two amber eyes, filled with concern.

“Jask, are you alright?”

Gods, it was that nickname he used. Or the fact that the one of the Witcher’s hands was wrapping around his back, should he fall, as the other brushed a strand of hair off of Jaskier’s face.

How did he do that?

Jaskier wriggled out of his grasp, and waving his hands around, he hastily mumbles, “Right, good. Inkeeper, room? I’m just going to...”

Geralt had raised an eyebrow at the bard’s flustered choice of words.

“Go.” Jaskier finished with a point of his finger, and promptly ran up the stairs, leaving the confused Witcher to mull in his own thoughts.

~~~

“Jask?” Geralt questioned as he slowly pushed the door to their room open. “Can I come in?”

“Yes, of course Geralt, I’m just getting ready for dinner! Come, come in.”

The Witcher walked halfway towards Jaskier, sitting on the edge of the bed, and once he had confirmed that the bard was alright, he sunk into a nearby chair in the corner of the room.

“Are you alright?” he asked again, with a worried look between his furrowed brows.

Jaskier was so close to brushing it off, saying that he was okay as per usual, “Geralt, you old fool, I’m just peachy-“ when he caught the Witcher’s gaze.

“Geralt?”

“Hmm?”

“You said...you said that Witchers don’t feel emotion. Is that true?”

“Hmm.”

A hmm that meant “yes”, so it would seem.

“Completely?”

Silence.

“Geralt?

The older man sighed. “Does it matter?”

“Of course it matters,” Jaskier wanted to scream, he wanted to grab the Witcher by his stupid black shirt and just shake him, tell him how ignorant he was, how he was so blind that he didn’t see the pure want in the bard’s eyes, how he didn’t understand that they were just meant for each other-

“No.”

“Hmm.”

Jaskier wasn’t sure if that grunt meant anything in particular. It could be that this whole thing was a figment of his imagination, brought on by delusions of love. No, wait not love-

“Right!” he said, hitting his thighs, getting up, and crossing the room in two small nervous strides. “We should go to dinner.”

“Jaskier.”

“Or maybe not, maybe we just sit in here and brood, you know, like you do.”

“Jaskier.”

“But if there’s something you’d rather do, we could go for a ride or something. We could go... frolick.”

“Fuck.”

“Dinner then. I was thinking of wearing this-“ he held up a slightly fancier version of the shirt he had on, “but I’m not entirely sure. Of course, you’ll tell me the usual. You’ll say ‘Jaskier, don’t care so much about what other people think of you.’“ the bard placed the shirt on the bed as to make room for his flailing hands. “You’ll tell me, ‘Bard, why are you wearing so many colors?’, while frankly I think you could use a touch of something other than the black you wear all of the time-“

He wasn’t allowed to finish his rambling sentence as a pair of lips crashed upon his. The hands that he used to gesture so loudly before were raised up in the air, stunned, before he brought them to rest in the Witcher’s snow-white hair.

Oh.

Oh.

Shit.

When they released from the embrace, the bard was left with a tint of red on his cheeks. “I-you-we-“

“How’s that for emotion?” Geralt’s impossibly deep voice growled. He laughed at Jaskier’s expression.

“I think for once, you’ve been speechless.”

The bard finally found his words. “Guess you should do it more often then.”

[wynnefic]

The Witcher Wolf by im_fairly_witty

The Witcher, Geralt/Jaskier, 11k, T, complete fic but incomplete series, canon divergence AU, animal transformation, pining, getting together

It’s been two weeks since Geralt shouted Jaskier away from him on that mountain and Jaskier has been handling it like a champ by forlornly wandering alone in the wilderness with his lute. When he (literally) stumbles across an injured white wolf he decides to take a chance and see if he can help it, appreciating the irony of the situation but not quite realizing why it is that the wolf’s golden eyes look exactly like his Witcher’s...