#anxiousbard

[geraltofriviasleftbuttcheek]

hmmm how about 24 and/or 41? :3c

24. you’re my ex but i think i still have feelings for you / 41. overhearing they have feelings for you

post-s1, geraskier, past yenralt, implied yenskier if u squint, break up & make up situation, angst with a hopeful ending

cliche prompts~!

—

there’s a tight feeling in his chest, a pressing weight on him as a rush of feeling overcomes him when he sees jaskier standing at the entrance of kaer morhen.

their eyes meet for the first time since the mountain, and geralt thinks they’re even bluer than he remembers. perhaps it’s the light of the afternoon sun dappling in beams over the keep, or just that old adage of absence making the heart grow fonder, but his breath is stolen as he looks at his bard once again.

not your bard, he reminds himself harshly, dropping his gaze but unable to look away for long, not after so much time apart. not anymore.

he watches those blue eyes go dim with a fresh wave of pain and heartache as they land on him, and then go wide when he sees geralt’s companion.

“jaskier!”

ciri rushes forward from his side, and jaskier drops to his knees, arms open to catch her in a hug. he presses his face in her hair the same way geralt had back in the forest where they found each other, holding something so indescribably precious in his arms.

the aching of his own heart intensifies.

“oh, sweet girl,” jaskier is murmuring to her, holding her tight while she buries her face in his neck. “i’m so glad you found him. it’s alright, it’s alright. you’re safe now.”

he’d forgotten jaskier spent many winters after that disastrous engagement banquet back in cintra’s court, watching their little lion cub grow up. one of us should be there for her, he’d told geralt once, a look in his blue eyes geralt hadn’t been able to place.

he thinks now it might have been something like understanding, something like resignation. always picking up the slack abandoned by geralt in matters of destiny.

he’s always done more than geralt deserves of him.

those blue eyes that always make him feel simultaneously like he’s drowning and finding air after being underwater for too long find his again as jaskier stands up, hands still on ciri’s shoulders, and then jaskier turns away without a word and leads her into the keep.

the clenching in his chest cinches tighter and geralt feels another piece of his heart crack and splinter, chipped away by his own doing.

yen’s gaze, from where she stands beside him, burns into the side of his head. “you’re a real piece of work, geralt of rivia.”

with that, she moves away and heads into kaer morhen, and he watches yet again as the two halves of his heart leave him behind, one slightly mended by necessity, the other still raw and bleeding.

.

he avoids jaskier for the first several weeks as winter sets in in earnest. it’s—more difficult than he expects. kaer morhen is large, but not large enough to keep geralt from being in the same space as jaskier, and he finds himself leaving rooms right after entering them when he sees his—not his—bard sitting at a table or curled in a chair, lute in hand, his voice warm and soft and gods, he’s missed it. missed jaskier.

but he messed it up on that mountain. he fucked up the one good thing life had seen fit to bless him with—how could he have ever called jaskier a curse—and he’s not sure it’s something he can fix.

so he avoids jaskier to avoid having to face the consequences of his mistakes. of this mistake in particular.

it doesn’t last.

he’s been trying to ignore the burn of jealousy in his veins when he catches yen with jaskier, both of them with their heads together and smiling and laughing together like old friends. yen had said she and jaskier had worked through their differences and come to an understanding sometime in the time between the mountain and now, but she’d never offered the details of their relationship.

the urge to put himself between them and pull jaskier away, to crowd him against a wall and hide him from her gaze and focus all of that blue-eyed attention on himself is strong, and it takes a great amount of his carefully learned and honed control to keep it in check. he hates the envy spreading in him like toxins in his blood.

he finds himself lingering outside the door to the room jaskier was given, hand poised in the air as if to knock or push his way in, wanting to, wanting to be let back in, but never going through with it. he listens instead, from the hallway, to jaskier singing softly or muttering nonsense to himself as he goes about his nightly routines. it’s familiar, calming, something he did on the road with geralt, and geralt feels something in him settle knowing jaskier hasn’t changed much at all.

occasionally, he’ll be talking to someone—ciri, usually, or yen, or eskel or lambert—and geralt burns with the desire to be the one he talks to, to be given the honor of keeping him company, even if he’s proven he’s not worthy of jaskier time and time again. he wants jaskier back, but he’s not sure jaskier wants him anymore.

it’s a night like this, geralt lingering beyond the door and listening in, that something in this self-imposed stalemate between them finally shifts.

jaskier is with yen tonight, and geralt thinks, later, wryly, that it was probably some kind of omen from destiny. their voices are low murmurs, occasionally interspersed with laughter, but it turns quiet and somber at some point over something he didn’t catch. at first.

“i used to think i knew him,” jaskier says, confesses it like a dark secret. he sounds so terribly sad it makes geralt want to run himself onto his own sword, because it’s his fault. “that i knew, no matter what words he did or didn’t say, that i knew what he was trying to say, what he was actually saying. now...now, i’m not sure i ever did.”

you did, geralt thinks, jaw clenching. you knew me better than anyone. no one else had ever bothered to know me like you did.

“for someone so smart,” yen muses, “he’s very stupid.”

it makes jaskier laugh. “he is. it’s part of his charm.”

“if you think stupidity is charming.”

“well obviously i did.”

did. but not anymore.

“obviously.”

it’s quiet between them for a moment, and geralt strains to hear anything from beyond the thick door separating him from the one who had become his everything without him even realizing it until it was too late.

“sometimes i wonder if there’s something wrong with me,” jaskier murmurs, and geralt’s heart twists. no, there’s not. you’re perfect. you were always too good for me. “something not quite right inside me. i mean,” he laughs again, but it sounds pained this time, worn out and tired, “why else, even after everything, would i still love him this deeply?”

geralt’s breath leaves him in a rush, like he’s been punch, or tossed into a wall by a beast.

“love makes fools of us all,” yen says. “it’s a curse—but also a blessing. if you’re into it. personally, i prefer a good bondage kink, but to each his own. martyrdom does it for some people, i hear.”

geralt pictures the way jaskier might try to hide a smile in her hair at the attempt at a joke. he always tried to hide his smiles when he didn’t want to admit geralt had said something funny, dry as it was.

he wants that back, wants that easy friendship, that easy love jaskier gave to him so freely.

“i want him back,” jaskier says then, as if he can hear geralt’s thoughts from the hall. “he was never mine, but i want him back anyway.”

i was always yours, geralt thinks. i just hadn’t realized how completely you had me until i forced you to let go.

he can’t listen to any more—he’s scraped raw at the confession, at the depth of jaskier’s love for him even after how he’d treated him, at his own realization. as quietly as he can, he walks away from jaskier’s room, though not without feeling a pull back to the door, back to his bard.

not your bard, he tells himself again. then amends, but maybe he would be again, if given the chance.

geralt returns to his own room, checking in on ciri as he goes, feeling some of the tension in his chest ease knowing his child surprise is sleeping safely close by. his resolve is set:

he’s got an apology to give that’s long past due.

[infinite-mirrors]

my dude losing those things is a NIGHTMARE! i'm glad you found it!!

thank you friend!! i’m so relieved lol those things are mad expensive

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

"You know. You must know." :3c

oh ho ho buddy you have Unleashed the Kraken

---

Jaskier was, unfortunately, still silent. Geralt reached out nervously with the very tips of his fingers and moved a strand of chestnut hair from the bard’s smooth forehead. Those lips, petal-pink and so temptingly sweet-smelling where they’d been treated with a rosy balm, were slightly parted. The Witcher could hear his soft, gentle breaths passing between them.

“You know. You must know,” he sighed. The bard’s hands were crossed over his abdomen, rising and falling with each inhale and exhale. The sorceress had placed a flower crown atop the cursed young man’s mop of messy hair and she’d carefully unbuttoned his chemise to the middle of his chest. 

Actually, that wasn’t Jaskier’s chemise at all. This one was light pink and embroidered with rose petals. Fucking sorceresses and their flair for the dramatic. 

Geralt leaned over and pressed his lips to Jaskier’s at last, closing his eyes as he did so. He wasn’t scared of the curse or the kiss or the wyvern he’d had to fight off at the base of the tower stairs. 

He was worried that when his bard woke up, when he saw the Witcher leaning over him, that he would flee. Geralt wouldn’t be able to keep going on if Jaskier rejected him like that.

“Oh, my love,” the bard sighed, his blue eyes fluttering open prettily. “At last.”

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

hello yes anon here. prompt: geralt plays with jaskier's hair. i just came up with this idea out of no where

oh hello anon

hope you're ready to be soft

__________

When the bard first touched Geralt he was confused. That gentle touch he’d dreamed about for so long felt like lightning coursing through his bones and he barely managed not to pull away. He craved more, as uncomfortable as he was at first. 

As he grew used to it, he found himself reciprocating, even if it was just with the brush of his knuckles or bumping shoulders as they sat by the fire. 

The first time they kissed Geralt felt lightheaded. So much so that he gripped Jaskier by the shoulders to keep his balance. 

Yes, the sex almost brought him to tears, the gentleness, and unbridled affection something he’d resigned himself to a life without, but his favorite part was after. 

After the frenzy of emotion and adrenaline and him, Jaskier would lay his head on Geralt’s chest and sigh. Sometimes he traced Geralt’s scars, sometimes he drew flowers over the marks, but Geralt always ran his fingers through his songbird’s hair. 

Those fingers, so used to the harshness of his world, would rake through his soft brown hair with a reverence unmatched in any temple. He twirled the longer pieces around his index finger as Jaskier hummed a silky smooth lullaby and marveled at just how soft his lover was. How soft yet how strong. 

When he came across tangles he would gasp, usually muttering a curse-laden apology that always pulled a breathy laugh from Jaskier. The bard would assure him he was fine as he picked at the knots before running his hand through the spot again, slowly this time, to check for more. 

He began doing it elsewhere too. First, as a comforting gesture when Jaskier clung to Geralt after far too close a call that had both of them trembling. He rested his hand at the back of Jaskier’s head where it was pressed in the crook of his neck, and without thinking he threaded his fingers up his scalp, combing his hair to the side. He wasn’t sure who’s benefit it was for, as calming as it was for him, but soon they stopped shaking. 

If Jaskier sat on his lap, it didn’t matter where they were, his hands would find their way to the nape of his neck, playing with the overgrown pieces there. When the bard decided it was time for a haircut Geralt found himself almost disappointed. But the close-shaven edges were just as satisfying to gently brush his thumb over as he rested his hand at Jaskier’s back, so he couldn’t complain. 

Jaskier began laying his head in Geralt’s lap while they waited for their food to cook over the campfire. It was automatic at that point, he sometimes didn’t realize he was doing it until Jaskier hummed in content. 

It was more than just the tactile pleasantness of the action, it was how he said all he couldn’t say. The soft caress was laden with adoration and devotion he could never dream of putting into words. Of course, he tried, but nothing ever did his intentions or emotions justice. So Geralt continued running his hands through his lover’s hair, savoring the intimacy like he already missed it. 

@anxiousbard 👀 i don’t want you to miss it

[inber]

A/N: I’ve been sitting on this one awhile because I liked it, but I couldn’t seem to find the inspiration for it. I made it yenskialt. Yenaltier? I don’t fucking know what the ot3 ship name is anymore, lol. Thanks for the prompt, @anxiousbard​! 

“Yen,” Geralt said, “help.”

The witcher stood in the doorway, as filth-encrusted as he always was, utterly unremarkable – save for the fact that he was wearing Jaskier like a backpack. Jaskier looked almost as exhausted as Geralt. He was resting his chin on Geralt's shoulder, apparently content to drape his whole weight like a wet cloak.

“Afternoon, Geralt.” Yennefer greeted, reaching forward to press her lips against his; he reciprocated the kiss sweetly. Jaskier made a needy sound, and Yennefer smirked at him. “Hello, bard.”

“Where's my kiss?”

“Shut up.” Geralt snapped, hefting Jaskier slightly to re-settle his bulk.

“What is it, then?” Yennefer asked, stepping aside to allow the two of them to enter her home, “Twisted ankle? Monster venom? Has his hip given out already?”

Jaskier honked his offence. “My good lady, I'll have you know that I'm very spry indeed. The years are simply adding to my value, like a fine Redanian red wine--”

“We've been cursed.” Geralt interrupted.

“Oh. Yes, that.” Jaskier added, helpfully.

Yennefer raised one beautifully arched eyebrow. “Have you, now? By whom?”

“Don't know.” Geralt said, carefully setting Jaskier down. Although the bard was steady on his feet, he still leaned into Geralt as if for support.

“It started, um, a week ago? I think,” Jaskier said, “when it was cold and Geralt and I shared a bedroll for warmth. Ever since then, it seems--”

“I can't stop touching him.” Geralt snapped.

“Nor I him.” Jaskier tacked on, wetting his lips with a nervous tongue. “When we are too far apart, it feels...”

“Aches.” Geralt complained, frowning. “In my middle. Feels like my hands are itching. Don't like it.”

“We didn't even upset anyone this time!” Jaskier whined, “Swear it, Yennefer.”

“Interesting.” Yennefer said, in a tone of voice that suggested at the opposite. “Alright, then. Come into the study, let's have a look at the both of you.”

The men followed the commanding sound of her footsteps meekly, fingertips brushing together as they went. Once inside the room, Yennefer went about picking various herbs and coloured bottles off her shelves. Geralt and Jaskier stood watching her. Jaskier fidgeted, and Geralt elbowed him.

“It's bad for work,” Geralt said, “I had one tiny, stupid contract, and I worried about him the whole time. He snuck close, too, the moron.”

“I missed you!” Jaskier defended, “And I wanted to see.”

“You always want to see, and you could always get killed!”

“But I don't, do I? You make sure I am safe. Sometimes I even help!”

“Is that what you call it?”

“Shut up.” Yennefer instructed briskly, and they did as bid. “Right. Simple first test. Geralt, take a step away from Jaskier.”

The two men exchanged a wary glance with one another, before Geralt shuffled to the left. His pinky finger remained interlocked with Jaskier's. Yennefer sighed.

“Let go of him, Geralt.”

Jaskier made a whimper, but he relaxed his hand, yielding to Yennefer's wisdom. Geralt slowly pulled his fingers away. They stared at the gap between them.

“It's starting again,” Geralt growled, “feels strange.”

“Don't like it.” Jaskier rocked on his feet uneasily.

“What do you feel?” Yennefer asked, circling the two of them slowly, appraising with her acute violet eyes. “Where is the pain?”

Geralt pointed to the centre of his chest. Jaskier pointed to his head. Yennefer hummed.

“How badly does it hurt?”

“Not... not terrible.” Geralt admitted. Jaskier's noise of agreement confirmed the symptom. “It's more like, like a burning.”

“Feels like something is missing.” Jaskier said. Then he choked on a gasp. “Did the one who curse us take something from us? Oh! I need my organs and things! ...I think?”

“So it doesn't exactly hurt, per se.” Yennefer clarified, reaching out to take Jaskier's hand. The bard blushed hotly as she inspected his fingers, trying not to squirm, and meeting with little success. “Can you still play?”

“Of course,” Jaskier puffed his chest up, “but I play better with Geralt nearby.”

“Unfortunately.” Geralt muttered.

“I see.” Yennefer released Jaskier's hand, and stalked over to her desk, skirts a'whirl. “Right, all I need do is pour out the contents of this tea, and the leaves will form the initials of the culprit responsible.”

“Ooh.” Jaskier's eyes went wide. “Can you tell me who I will marry, after?”

“Focus, Jaskier.” Geralt growled.

“Well, if she's doing tea spells, why not look into the future?” Jaskier argued.

“She's not a two-coin hedgewitch.”

“Oh, I never said she was! Yennefer knows that I think she has more power in her little finger than either you or I do in our entire bodies. I feel I told her that after we ate those weird mushrooms that one time--”

“You ate the weird mushrooms.”

“So did you!”

“Only to see if I could figure out a cure--”

“Oh, wow.” Yennefer breathed dramatically. The two men stopped their bickering, all eyes upon the raven-haired beaut' with the tea-cup in her hands. “This is... very unusual.”

“What?” Geralt asked.

“What does it say?” Jaskier squeaked.

“Well, judging by this pattern,” Yennefer frowned, and then blew out a sigh, “I'm afraid it burdens me to inform you...”

“Yes, yes?” Jaskier urged. Geralt begged with his eyes.

“...that you are both very stupid. Utterly devoid of common sense. Truly, it is a wonder that either of you are allowed near sharp objects without supervision.”

Both Geralt and Jaskier stared at her. Geralt grunted, and tried to snatch the cup from Yennefer's hands. Jaskier folded his arms in pompous defiance.

“What of this slander, Yennefer? We're afflicted, and you'd speak to us thusly!”

“Yen, don't play games. What are the initials?” Geralt squinted at the leaves. “I think I see an 'S'...”

“You're not cursed, you fools.” Yennefer snorted, sitting down in an ornate chair that might have once been a throne for a long-dead king. “You just love each other.”

Geralt froze. Jaskier turned a fetching shade of beet. Yennefer smirked.

“L-love? He's, uh, he's with you, Yennefer, I am quite aware of that, and besides that fact we're simply friends, good friends--”

“I don't love him, he's ridiculous. The other day he asked me why he never finds tiny bee skeletons on the ground--”

“Why don't I, though? Where do their little skeletons go?!”

“They have exoskeletons, Jaskier!”

Yennefer laughed. She propped her feet up on the desk, and laughed. “Oh, fuck me. I have the worst taste in men.”

Geralt had the wherewithal to look annoyed, and Jaskier simply seemed as if he was contemplating the skeleton revelation. Yennefer shook her head.

“I do not live my life in exclusive service to anyone, bard. Even if I love Geralt, he has his freedoms, and I have mine.”

“Oh.” Jaskier whispered.

They'd talked about such an arrangement before, Geralt recalled, but it had applied to brothel-tangles and relief on the road on his end. Yennefer had the odd tryst that she'd speak of, but nothing serious. Nothing that would follow either of them around. Not like Jaskier.

“And considering that,” Yennefer continued, “I'd very much like to see this... curse in action. Tell me, Jaskier – do you sing between the sheets as pretty as you do upon a stage?”

“Well, I--” Jaskier stuttered, realised the gravity of the question, and nearly swooned where he stood.

“Yen, are... are you sure?” Geralt's eyes were soft honey-hopeful.

“You two talk so much, it's terribly dull. Luckily, I think I have some gags in my boudoir. Certainly some ropes...” Yennefer tapped a manicured fingernail against her lower lip.

Jaskier nearly fell over his own feet in his haste to get to the bedroom. Geralt watched him stupidly, and then followed. Yennefer set the teacup down, grinning.

At the bottom, three small initials formed in the leaves; Y, G, J.

[eggscommunicate]

@anxiousbard i don’t see it

[ao3feed-geralt-jaskier]

by Callingtheangels

A prompt idea I gave to @anxiousbard on Tumblr (@alltheroads on AO3), that then turned into me having to write the idea she put out:

anxiousbard: I think... it’d be a 5+1 kind of fic

The five times Jaskier rushes into love, and the one time he doesn’t. It’d center around Jaskier’s penchant for falling in love, all the while his slow burning relationship with Geralt is played out in the background. Putting in the groundwork, the inside jokes, the tenderness, and something long lasting that Jask is missing from everything else.

Words: 3574, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, The Witcher (TV)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion

Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion

Additional Tags: Pre-Relationship, Slow Burn, 5+1 Things, Fluff, Falling In Love, Jaskier learns what love really means, Geralt understands it first

[stinastar]

Tag 5-9 people you’d like to know better/catch up with! 💗

Thanks for the tag @elliestormfound & @jaskierswolf ! 🥰

Last song: OH WHAT A SURPRISE it’s The Amazing Devil --> Wild Blue Yonder

Last movie: Enola Holmes. I LOVE ❤️❤️ I stan Enola, Eudoria & Edith, what fabulous amazing women. Also Louis Partridge is a beautiful creature?!

Currently watching: Not anything particularly right now, I’ve mostly been reading fics lately. Finished The Witcher (round 2) recently, and Schitt’s Creek. I have a few K dramas that I’m partway through but have abandoned for now.

Currently reading: Oh dear. There’s no easy answer to this haha. A lot of fanfics. And I have too many books that I keep picking up and putting down lately. The Witch Doesn’t Burn in This One by Amanda Lovelace, Milk & Honey by Rupi Kaur, Blood Magic by Nora Roberts, The Spiral Dance by Starhawk, and a handful of others 😬 I’m an ADD problem child, ok?

Currently craving: Uh... concentration? inner peace? Thai food? 😂

Tagging @ghostinthelibrarywrites @oxbridge-quality-fanfiction-co @lovelyrita1967 @yoursummerfrost @anxiousbard @a-kind-of-merry-war @holycatsandrabbits @littlerhythm @mamamichine

[ghostinthelibrarywrites]

Thank you @jaskicr for the tag!

Relationship status: married for a year next month

Favorite color: honestly depends on the day! Today, it’s purple

Three favorite foods: buffalo chicken pizza, cheesecake, and brownie sundaes

Song stuck in my head: “I WIll Never Die” by Delta Rae

Last song I listened to: “Work Song” by Hozier

Last thing I googled: gestation periods of goats

Time: 7:35

Dream trip: maybe Ireland? Or Australia?

tagging: @anxiousbard @icedragondreams and anyone else who wants to join in!

[grocerystore-gf]

I am a fan of your blog and would be honored if you would read my venom!jaskier/spidey!geralt tale inspired by @anxiousbard

first of all , thank you so much , you’re such a nice person🥺

surely , tell me where to read it I’ll do it after my English Exam :)

[sydmarch]

rules: tag 9 people who you want to know better/catch up with and then answer these questions

Tagged by @anxiousbard

last song: heaven help us - mcr

last movie: ummm i don't remember

currently reading: i'm working my way through the 3 body problem series again, since i haven't read much since i stopped commuting i had to reread something REALLY good to get back into it

currently watching: dark, i have just one more episode left aaaaaaa

currently craving: honestly i could really go for a burger

tumblr desktop has been so laggy for me sicne the update that i’m not gonna tag anyone feel free to just consider yourself tagged!

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

hi again :) no worries i do shit like that aaaall the time lmfao. (and thanks i like your writing too!!) my prompt was a soulmate au but they aren't each others soulmates. they choose each other anyway! :D

(I was working on this and lost internet connection; thanks for messaging me back and repeating your prompt!!! I love it!!! I’m using my own soulmate au from AO3 if anyone knows the “To Carry Your Marks” series)

Geralt’s marks had been grey for years by the time he met Jaskier. A long series of vines that climbed and twisted their way around his torso and stomach, marking the last wound his soulmate had ever received; their death blow.

Usually your Beloved only received a mark when you were scarred permanently but the rules seemed to vary slightly for Witchers. Geralt was ever so lucky. He’d always get to see exactly where his soulmate had been struck before they’d died. He’d carry that with him forever. 

He thought that meant he’d be alone forever.

Until Posada. 

Until that sniveling baby bard with the loud mouth and the curiously broad knowledge of Elder showed up - love the brooding, darling, but your Big Tough Witcher act could use some work - and turned his life upside down. Suddenly all the colors seemed a little brighter. The air seemed a little crisper. The food tasted a little better. He slept without nightmares and trained without fatigue. 

Jaskier showed him what love could feel like. Jaskier showed him how powerful love could make someone when they felt it by choice and not by design. 

You see, Geralt had mourned his soulmate but he’d never met them. No, they had died long before he’d gotten the chance to see their face or hear their name. When he was merely fourteen all his deep green vines had turned suddenly grey. He’d collapsed to the floor, his heart shattering for a reason he didn’t understand, when he was merely a boy. When he was still going through the Trials at Kaer Morhen and becoming the very monster that loomed in Posada that fateful day. 

But Jaskier didn’t consider him a monster. No, Jaskier wrote lovely ballads declaring his bravery and kind-heartedness and (oddly enough) beauty. Coins were tossed his way instead of rocks. Rooms became affordable and aldermen became loose-pocketed when he filled his contracts. Jaskier was caring in a way that Geralt had never known before and he was devoted to his Witcher with all his heart.

Truly, all of it. Even though the few marks he had were still softly mauve against his pale skin. 

“Met him at a banquet once,” Jaskier had said, almost offhandedly. As if he wasn’t explaining how he’d rejected the man meant to own half of his very soul. His perfect match in every way. Supposedly. Jaskier had scoffed, then. “I may talk about my accomplishments when I feel particularly vulnerable and need validation but I certainly know other topics to speak upon when the situation requires. He was a twit. A numbskull. An utter buffoon, my darling. I wouldn’t have him. You, though...you I want. You I desire above all else, my sweet Witcher. My Geralt.”

And Geralt had allowed himself to slip into the relationship naturally. Being with Jaskier was like breathing. He was instinct. He was nature. He was everything good about life wrapped up into one bright, silk-clad package. 

He rolled over and planted a sloppy kiss to the bard’s collarbone. “What was that for?” the other man asked. “You’re usually not so affectionate in the morning, husband of mine.”

“Well, husband,” Geralt replied, “I was thinking about how happy you make me.”

“Hmm, I am rather sweet.”

“Sweet and so many other things,” the Witcher rumbled. He pulled the slightly smaller man against him and nuzzled down into his hair. “Brave and kind and free and wild.”

“Thank you, my love.”

“Hmm.”

[witcherfic]

Callingtheangels September 10, 2020 at 01:22AM

by Callingtheangels

A prompt idea I gave to @anxiousbard on Tumblr (@alltheroads on AO3), that then turned into me having to write the idea she put out:

anxiousbard: I think... it’d be a 5+1 kind of fic

The five times Jaskier rushes into love, and the one time he doesn’t. It’d center around Jaskier’s penchant for falling in love, all the while his slow burning relationship with Geralt is played out in the background. Putting in the groundwork, the inside jokes, the tenderness, and something long lasting that Jask is missing from everything else.

Words: 3574, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, The Witcher (TV)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion

Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion

Additional Tags: Pre-Relationship, Slow Burn, 5+1 Things, Fluff, Falling In Love, Jaskier learns what love really means, Geralt understands it first

[bastardofmothman]

Tag 5 I was tagged by @feraljaskier​, who is a marvelous human being, thank you dear!

This tagging game is to learn more about people you are either mutuals or following

Last song: Listened to was “Miracle” by Chvrches, last song I was singing in my apartment without the music on was “Elsa’s Song” by The Amazing Devil

Last movie: Ever After: A Cinderella Story (1998)

Currently watching: Re-binge watching Derry Girls

Currently reading: So in theory I’m reading An Unkindness of Ghosts by Rivers Soloman, and The Last Wish is sitting on my coffee table taunting me but ALSO... the amount of progress I’m actually making on this front is questionable. Mostly I’m just refreshing my (digital) library holds waiting for The Faithless Hawk by Margaret Owen to become available.

Currently craving: Artisan pizza and tiramisu (yes, I am prissy, but also it’s not my fault that the artisan pizza place by me is the only pizza place that will deliver to me in under 2 hours AND the food will arrived cooked AND they offer tiramisu)

Tagging: @anxiousbard​, @geraskier-trashh, @silvipeppers, @lovelyrita1967, and @norationalthoughtrequired (if you’ve already done this sorry for tagging you again! If you have no idea who I am I just want you to know I have spent too much time on your blog because your content is wonderful!)

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

hmmmmm... clear, blue, and green! :3

(ahhhh I adore your blog and I’m so honored that you sent me an ask)

Clear: Do your characters control where the story goes or do you maintain control? 

I barely ever know where things are going aside from the plot skeleton I assemble before every multichapter WIP. My characterization of Jaskier is the strongest, so he usually takes the lead when I’m writing (if that makes any sense?). If I lose track of the plot I just ask myself what the bard would do and go from there.

Blue: What’s more important to you, characters or plot?

CHARACTERS. I want them to be happy. I don’t even care how we get there half the time. As long as it’s sweet and fluffy and a little whumpy, we’re good.

Green: Pencil, Typewriter, or Computer?

I prefer the computer but I write all my story outlines by hand on a legal pad out of habit. I also own a 1936 Underwood Noiseless typewriter but I never use it (it’s a very precious gift but it’s super hard to find the right ribbon for it). It’s also like 85 pounds so I’ll stick to the computer for now!

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

Oh, Happy Dagger!

Don’t worry about the title, this is pure fluff. @anxiousbard ‘s magnificent Venom!Verse made me feel some things so I needed to write some cuteness to balance the force.

Enjoy!

---

There was a knock on Jaskier’s chamber door and he rose quickly to answer it, forgetting his state of relative undress completely. When his eyes met with Geralt’s familiar slitted golden ones he smiled and leaned against the frame. The Witcher swallowed thickly and turned his gaze away, speaking softly, “You are uhm...you are indecent, my love.”

“Oh,” Jaskier glanced down. The dressing gown was pulled closed around his waist and his chemise covered most of his chest. He was wearing his smalls; only his calves, ankles and feet were showing through the bottom gap. He didn’t see any problem. “What’s wrong with this? All the naughtiest bits are covered, Geralt.”

“I can see your - I can see your collarbone, Jaskier. And your legs.”

“And?”

“It’s improper! If I am to woo you properly then you mustn’t - you mustn’t tempt me like this, little bird.”

“Geralt, my great and silly Beast, do you remember what I looked like when you found me that first night, bound to a tree? Those creepy elders hadn’t left me any shirt at all! I was standing in the autumn cold completely bare-chested and covered in berry juice! There’s nothing showing here that you haven’t already seen before,” the young noble scoffed. Geralt continued to look away. 

“Still,” he grumbled. “It’s improper, little bird. Would you kindly get dressed and meet me in the library? I have something important to discuss with you.”

Jaskier looked fearful for a moment but Geralt softened his gaze and pressed a quick kiss to his forehead. 

“I promise that it’s good news,” the Beast reassured his anxious consort. “The discussion shall be of a happy nature.”

“That’s very good to hear,” Jaskier sighed in relief. “I shall be down shortly, my darling.”

---

“I’d like - hmm, I’d like to give you a real courting gift, Jaskier,” the Beast stated. He knelt solemnly before his blushing fiancée and pulled a box from behind his back. It certainly wasn’t a ring; the box was long and thin, made of heavy oak that had been stained a walnut brown and polished to shining. A recurring design of leaves and vines had been carefully carved along the border and the clasp holding it closed was made of shining gold. The young peasant gasped and took a half-step back. “I wish to begin my formal suit. I wish to make you my consort by law.”

“Geralt, I’m - it’s too beautiful, I -”

“The box is not the gift,” the Beast explained. He unhooked the clasp and opened the lid slowly, revealing what lay inside. Nestled against a bed of deep red velvet was a shining silver dagger. The pommel had been shaped to look like a blooming rose. A small, shimmering ruby had been inlaid at the very center, winking up at the awestruck boy in the flickering light of the library fire. Jaskier shook his head and laughed breathlessly. Geralt spoke again, softly and carefully, enunciating each word so that he could not be misunderstood, “Jaskier, my love, I wish to court you with the intent to marry you. I wish to keep you by my side for the rest of my life, where I can hear your voice and feel your warmth. I will protect you and clothe you, feed you and bathe you in illness and in good health. I shall be your castle and you in turn shall hold my heart. You are a lighthouse, my love, and I am drawn to you through the crashing waves. Say you’ll be mine, Jaskier, and make me the happiest Witcher to ever have lived.”

The bright young human was overwhelmed. Tears poured from his eyes and his hands trembled at his sides. His lip was being bitten to pieces between his pearly teeth and his knees wobbled dangerously. Geralt stood and swept the boy into his arms, placing the box carefully on a nearby table in the process. Jaskier threw his arms around his Beast’s neck and let out a gasping, happy sob, “Oh, Geralt! I would be more than happy to accept your suit! I would love with all my heart for you to be my husband and I your consort. May I bring Kaer Morhen glory with my presence here. May I bring you happiness with my presence here.”

Geralt laughed, throwing his head back and spinning in several dizzying circles. Jaskier squealed and clung even tighter to him, giggling softly when they finally came to a standstill. “Will you take the dagger? Will you wear it at your hip so I know that you are safe? So I know that some piece of me is always there to protect you, little bird?”

Jaskier suspected that this gift, the dagger in particular, was specific to Witchers. He nodded and curtseyed formally, the way any noble lady would do when accepting a romantic suit. “I accept your gift, sweet Witcher. I shall wear it at my hip where you can protect me always.”

Geralt set his little bird back on his feet and pulled him close, looping both arms around his waist. “May I kiss you, my consort?”

Jaskier tilted his head back and beamed up at his Beast, “Kiss me breathless, my love. Kiss me until I cannot ask to be kissed again.”