#jaskier x priscilla

[fangirlsfavoritebardboy]

Officially Finished "Welly Boots"!

Fanfiction Title: Welly Boots

Fandoms: The Witcher (Netflix)/The Witcher III: Wild Hunt

Chapters: 4

Words: 23,918

Rating: T

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death

Pairings: Jaskier/Priscilla, Geralt/Yennfer

Summary: Jaskier, Ciri, Yennefer, and the Witchers are bored in Kaer Morhen when one of them asks Jaskier to tell them a tale. He spins a story of love and tragedy, featuring a young run-away viscount named Julian and the love of his life Priscilla. The others are none the wiser.

Features Jaskier attending Oxenfurt, befriending Essi, hating Valdo, and courting Priscilla.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45894919

[underpreparedbard]

I finally made a masterlist and my requests are currently OPEN! 

Send me your prompts for Witcher shenanigans✨

[headcanonthings]

Priscilla: You’re telling me, a deadly supernatural predator who wouldn’t hesitate to kill, threatened you, and you... Jaskier: I married him!

[ghostlylicious]

late valentines sketch for my favorite bards! (specifically 'my' bc i designed them w my own headcannons 😭🥰)

oh dont mind the curtain im too lazy to draw the actual pattern hsjfbsn

[thedemonofcat]

Imagine if, in the Witcher Netflix series, there was an opportunity to include Priscilla or Essi Daven, even if it were just for a single episode. One actress who would be perfect for the role is Madeleine Hyland. You may recognize her as a member of Joey Batey's band, The Amazing Devil.

Can you picture a scene where these two characters perform a duet? It would undoubtedly be a marvelous sight to behold

[jaskierswolf]

Hi Wolfie! Can I please request Prince!Dandelion who meets and flirts/falls in love with Knight!Priscilla (who’s actually a princess in disguise) please? Thank you!! 😘

The Prince in the Tower

Ship: Dandelion/Priscilla Rating: T Summary: After Dandelion is trapped by Stregobor, he waits until his knight in shining armour comes to rescue him.

On AO3

_

When he'd been a child, Dandelion had carried all sorts of dreams for what his future would bring, but Destiny had other ideas. For you see, Dandelion had been born under the Black Sun, and thus, according to certain mages, was cursed. He'd slipped away unnoticed for a while. The mage in charge of the hunts was focussed on girls, and no one had looked at Dandelion. But when his music and his unconventional behaviour had started making waves, society started to pay attention to the young Prince of Lettenhove. 

It was a new kingdom. After years of famine and tyranny from the Ruler of Redania, Dandelion's father had broken free. Lettenhove rose up against their oppressors and Dandelion had gone from being a backwater Viscount to a bloody prince. Whilst his dreams of becoming a bard had died, he still loved music and he loved to compose. 

The castle of Lettenhove was never quiet, and he often accompanied his father on Royal missions to other kingdoms, singing and flirting and charming his way through the courts until peace treaties and alliances were formed. It turned out his skill set as a budding troubadour served him well as a prince. Dandelion became known as "The Siren" for no one could quite understand how he held so much power without ever wielding a sword. But in truth, there wasn't a magical bone in his body. Not that he knew of at least. But that was when the mages started paying attention.

That was when Stregobor started to look.

The circumstances of his birth became known to the wizard, and Dandelion's charm and charisma was now apparently some side effect from a curse. Lettenhove's whole reputation as a fledgling kingdom was put at risk, and Dandelion was sent away for his own good.

But as he brushed his hair for the umpteenth time that day, he couldn't help but think it was all a load of hogwash. He hadn't done anything wrong! All he wanted to do was sing and fall in love. How could anyone see evil in that? But Stregobor was convinced he was some sort of agent of Lillit, and no one cared what the poor prince thought. Dandelion was trapped. The tower kept him away from everyone and everything he'd ever loved. He'd not even been allowed to keep his lute. 

The whoresons.

So Dandelion had spent the last two years of his life singing without his beloved instrument, scribbling on parchment and reading every book under the damn sun. 

He. Was. Bored. 

There was so much to see on the Continent, people and places and monsters... even monster slayers! And yet here he was stuck in a bloody tower, a single circular room. The carpets were already worn thin, and Dandelion wasn't sure how much more he could take of it. Was he supposed to stay here for the rest of his life?? If the rumours about his mother and her affairs were to be believed, Dandelion could very well be alive for far longer than fucking Stregobor had planned for.

"I'm sure the tower isn't that tall..." Dandelion pondered as he peered out the window, the brush still in his hand. The ground seemed like a long way away, but it could just be an illusion. He probably wasn't even a foot off the ground. "Maybe I'll just break an ankle or something. Lettenhove isn't too far from here. I could hobble home. I'm sure my father would be happy to see me again." 

And that is how Dandelion found himself teetering on the edge of the windowsill. His knuckles were white as he gripped onto the wall. No matter how many times he told himself that it wouldn't be that far too fall, his brain just wouldn't listen. It wouldn't let him jump.

"Just a step and you'll be free," Dandelion muttered with a click of his tongue. "Oooh, oh but I don't want to die."

He closed his eyes and took one last deep breath, his legs shaking beneath his as he began to take his step. 

"I wouldn't do that if I were you!" a voice called back to him. 

Dandelion's eyes snapped open and he nearly fell back into his room. When he looked down, he saw a young maiden, long luscious blonde locks, not unlike his own. She was dressed in a dull red and blue armour, leather perhaps, maybe padded... it was hard to tell with the distance between them. There was a bow and quiver on her back, and a sword strapped to her waist, and she had a cloak pulled up over her head. 

"Ummm..." Dandelion replied most eloquently. 

"Unless of course, you want to fall to your death, then please, be my guest." Her sparkling melodic laughter rang out in the air and Dandelion felt his eyes go wide as his cheeks burned hot. 

Oh no, he thought, She's hot.

Naturally, that was when Dandelion's legs gave out and he found himself tumbling from the top of the tower. On the way down, he couldn't help but notice that it was, in fact, not an illusion and he was probably going to die. The world spun in slow motion, time ceasing to exist, and a scream tore from Dandelion's throat. He'd earned his freedom, but at what cost? Death loomed as the ground approached. 

He closed his eyes. 

Waiting. 

Praying.

"Ooft!" The wind knocked from his lungs and he heard a pained cry from beneath him. 

Not dead then. 

"Get off me you big lump!" the girl's voice grumbled. She'd saved his life. 

Dandelion rolled over and pulled them both to their feet, wincing slightly as his ankle gave way. And by the gods, she was more beautiful in person. All the bruises and broken ribs were worth it just for the few moments he'd spent in her arms. 

"My knight in shining armour," he simpered, taking her hand and kissing it as he bowed. "How can I ever thank you, my lady?" 

"Just don't get stuck in any more towers, elf," she answered with a wink. Dandelion decided not to correct her assumption. "What are you, a lost princess?" 

"Prince, actually. Of Lettenhove." The knight's eyes went wide, and she stumbled backwards. "You're Julian Pankratz? But- but they told me you'd died." 

Dandelion frowned. It had only been two years, and he'd not given up hope that his father would try and rescue him... but apparently he'd been mistaken. "Not yet. Just a little stuck. I owe you, my lady. Please, let me repay my debt." The words were punctuated with a wink, but the knight seemed not to care. 

Instead, she kept moving away from Dandelion as if she'd seen a ghost.

"Why did it have to be you?" she stammered and then she was gone, fleeing into the woods and leaving Dandelion alone to fend for himself. 

It took him nearly a week to crawl back to Lettenhove. His injuries from the fall had been worse than he'd realised and progress was slow. But eventually, he tumbled through the doors, hungry, thirsty and desperate for a warm meal and soft bed. 

"Father?" he called as the servants flurried around him. 

Only it wasn't his father that greeted Dandelion but his knight from the tower. Except she wasn't a knight at all. Her long hair was pinned up and bejewelled. The armour was gone, replaced by one of the finest gowns this side of Toussaint. But most importantly, she had a broach pinned to her bodice... the royal crest of Redania. 

She was a princess. 

"You!" Dandelion gasped, pointing at his rescuer. She smiled sheepishly and nodded. "Princess Priscilla of Redania. Once upon a time I was-" 

"My betrothed!" Dandelion cried. He couldn't believe it. All the stories his father had told him about the young princess were nearly forgotten, but now she was here, in his home. His knight, his betrothed. They were one and the same. "What were you doing in the forest?"

"I like to go there to get away from it all. I never wanted to be a royal. It's an awfully dull life, so many rules and restrictions. So I don a disguise and I escape. Sometimes with my bow and my sword, sometimes with my lute. Depends what part I wish to play." 

A burst of laughter escaped Dandelion and he rushed to his princesses side. "You have a lute?" 

"Elven made, a truly magnificent instrument," Priscilla sighed wistfully, her fingers flexing at her side. 

Hoping his own lute was in one piece in his bedroom, Dandelion flashed Priscilla a smile. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours?" he teased.

Perhaps Destiny wasn't quite as cruel as he'd once thought.

[lavenderdynasty]

I've become so numb

Прозвенел звонок, и ученики словно муравьи разбежались по кабинетам. Первая группа класса «А» отправилась на урок музыки. В небольшом помещении проходило обучение на разных инструментах. Каждый мог выбрать что-то по себе. Учительница мисс Серена Гримм умела играть на каждом понемногу. В кабинете также находились микрофоны для уроков по вокалу и мягкие пуфы вместо парт. Старшеклассники вошли в аудиторию и расселись в круг.

Эпизод 8.

Учеников поприветствовала мисс Гримм. Приятная молодая девушка 28 лет.

«Доброго дня! Надеюсь, вы хорошо отдохнули и готовы к новым творческим успехам. Присаживайтесь. Сегодня мы проведём вводный урок, вспомним прошлогодние выученные композиции. Пока нового не будем изучать, я подготовлю программу на предстоящие занятия. Но что важно, так это фестиваль «Фиеста», который состоится через месяц. В этом году он посвящён рок-культуре!» - улыбнулась педагог.

«Круть!» - воскликнули парни.

«Согласна, направление классное и многогранное, поэтому скоро начнётся формирование коллективов по разным номинациям. В каждой одиночное и групповое выступление. Всего их четыре: танцы, мюзикл, вокал, инструментал. Подать заявку может любой желающий. Фестиваль будет проходить весь день. Пока дата не утверждена, на днях объявят», - объяснила мисс Гримм.

«Мисс Гримм, репетиции будут по расписанию в актовом зале?» - спросила Кейра, которая ещё на каникулах обдумывала идеи для мюзикла.

«Да, расписание составят, когда определятся все участники. Подать заявку можно будет около досок с объявлениями. Там вывесят списки. Нужно будет заполнить и прийти потом на общее собрание в актовый зал. Пока точно по дням и датам не могу сказать, но на сайте школы всё опубликуют», - отметила преподавательница.

Мисс Гримм глянула на новенького ученика.

«Представьтесь, пожалуйста», - попросила она парня.

«Геральт Ривин», - ответил юноша.

«Геральт, расскажите, умеете ли вы играть на каком-нибудь инструменте? Вокальные данные есть?» - уточнила учительница.

«Электрогитара, акустическая гитара… Вокальные данные есть», - неловко сказал парень.

«О! Это чудесно. Мы это проверим. А пока давайте вспомним, что изучали в прошлом году. Я буду тезисно рассказывать те течение и исторические моменты, задавать вопросы. В прошлом семестре мы изучали музыку конца 19 века…» - начала педагог.

Все внимательно слушали преподавательницу. Йеннифер немного умела играть на синтезаторе. Она осмотрела стоящие сзади инструменты. В прошлом году она подняла музыкальные навыки, в этом хотела попробовать сочинить свою композицию. Дома у неё не было инструмента, поэтому она решила записаться на факультатив к мисс Гримм.

Девушка чувствовала себя неловко снова из-за того что Геральт сидел очень близко. Парень слушал учительницу, но периодически бросал взгляды на неё. Впрочем, она делала тоже самое.

«На чём играешь?» - спросил парень её шёпотом.

Йеннифер указала пальцем на стоящий сзади синтезатор. Парень улыбнулся. Он оглядел класс и заметил стоящую партию гитар. Тут только акустика. Не совсем его, хотя и не сложно. А вот свой вокал он ещё не демонстрировал никому. Хотя он знает, что голос у него приятный. По крайней мере, так говорит мама. Юноша посмотрел снова на одноклассницу. Она сидела так близко…

Пока девушка слушала учительницу, он периодически её рассматривал. Взгляд невольно опускался на её ноги. Одноклассница сидела в короткой юбке, поэтому эта часть тела была на виду. Юноша покраснел, кашлянул, поправил волосы на голове и отвернулся. Только мозг совсем не слушался и постоянно заставлял поворачиваться обратно.

Йеннифер чувствовала взгляды парня, но не замечала, куда именно они направлены. Может и к лучшему? Она несколько раз ответила на вопросы мисс Гримм, а затем шёпотом поинтересовалась у Геральта, какую музыку он любит.

Геральт рассказал, что обожает рок, альтернативу и хип-хоп. Назвал несколько любимых исполнителей. Вкусы парня понравились Йеннифер, хотя она больше любила K-pop. Но рок тоже отзывался у неё в сердце, так же как приятный шёпот юноши. Когда он слегка наклонялся к ней, резко становилось жарковато.

В течение урока молодые люди постоянно что-то спрашивали друг у друга. Геральт шутил и поднимал настроение девушки. Она мило улыбалась. Их разговор замечали сидящие рядом одноклассники. Они переглядывались и головой кивали на «парочку». Всем уже было всё понятно.

Мисс Гримм заметила перешёптывающихся учеников. Она посмотрела, куда устремлены их взгляды и заметила беседующих Геральта и Йеннифер.

Геральта пихнул Джескер. Парень оглянулся и заметил притихшую преподавательницу. Он улыбнулся, извинился. Джескер попытался перенять внимание на себя, спасая одноклассника.

«Мисс Гримм, я хотел уточнить про «Лебединое озеро» Чайковского. В основе произведения есть фольклорные мотивы. Какие ещё музыкальные средства он там использовал?» - перевёл тему Джескер.

План сработал, и учительница стала вдохновлённо рассказывать о балете. Йеннифер и Геральт больше не разговаривали, но продолжали улыбаться друг другу. Парень всё также иногда осматривал девушку.

Затем мисс Гримм предложила приступить к практической части занятия. Для тренировок выбрали несколько упражнений. Учительница предложила всем выбрать свои инструменты.

Присцилла взяла скрипку, хотя вокал у девушки был один из самых лучших в школе. Йеннифер села за синтезатор. Джескер и Геральт подошли к гитарам. Кейра не умела ни на чём играть, поэтому сразу взяла в руки микрофон. Золтан тоже был хорош только в вокале. У него был отличный голос для рок-композиций. Поэтому парень больше всех обрадовался теме «Фиесты».

Все по очереди сыграли и распелись, вспомнив технику. Мисс Гримм подходила к каждому, давая советы и помогая правильно подоб��ать ритм и звучание.

В самом конце педагог предложила всем послушать только Геральта, так как она хотела понять, на каком уровне сейчас находится юноша. Она предложила ему сыграть что-нибудь из любимого и спеть.

Парень слегка смутился, но затем набрал воздух и выдохнул. Он попросил Джескера подыгрывать на фоне для лучшего звучания и исполнил свою любимую песню «Numb» группы Linking Park.

Все ученики замерли. Такого они точно не ожидали. Мисс Гримм приоткрыла рот от восхищения. Золтан закайфовал.

Голос парня оказался просто невероятным. Он отлично тянул высокие ноты, но приятней всего звучал именно его тембр. Одновременно нежный и дерзкий, рычащий и мелодичный. Юноша исполнял каждую строчку очень чувственно. Песня достаточно драматичная, поэтому слова отзывались в каждом.

Когда парень закончил, все зааплодировали ему.

«Геральт, это было невероятно! Неожиданно. Вот это талант! Если не будешь участвовать в «Фиесте», я исключу тебя из школы», - рассмеялась женщина.

«Тогда у меня нет выбора», - улыбнулся парень и поставил гитару на место.

Йеннифер очень зауважала Геральта за его талант и способности. Исполнить что-то вот так она бы никогда не смогла. Парень в её глазах стал ещё интересней и привлекательней.

Геральт присел на пуф, поправил волосы и посмотрел на Йеннифер. Он понял, что девушке понравилось его выступление. Подпольные тренировки оказались полезными.

Мисс Гримм объявила, что урок закончился и попросила остаться ненадолго Присциллу и Джескера. Остальные стали собираться и выходить из аудитории.

«Всё в силе?» - спросил Геральт одноклассницу.

Она вспомнила, что он хотел её проводить. В животе у неё затрепетали бабочки. Взволнованно она кивнула и пошла за ранцем.

Мисс Гримм подошла к Джескеру и Присцилле.

«Ребята, вы у меня настоящие профессионалы своего дела, поэтому в этом году я бы хотела, чтобы вы скооперировались и создали что-то совместное», - сказала педагог.

Джескер не поверил своему счастью. Но теперь то Присцилла точно не сможет отвертеться. Он кивнул и глянул на одноклассницу. Та пребывала в оцепенении. Он был прав. Девушка не могла отказаться, хоть её и напрягло предложение учительницы. Она, конечно, уже согласилась прийти к Джескеру на встречу, но теперь сослаться на какой-нибудь инцидент и не прийти не получится.

Одноклассники вышли из кабинета и разбрелись по своим делам. Геральт и Йеннифер неловко шли рядом. Парень поправил ворот рубашки. Он волнительно подошёл ближе к девушке. Та замедлилась. Геральт положил руку ей на плечо и немного приблизил к себе.

От этого у Йеннифер замерло сердце. Трепет пробежал по телу, ноги едва дрогнули. Ладонь юноши лишь слегка касалась плеча, но девушка чувствовала силу парня. Она будто пробежала по её телу. Это вызывало очень приятные ощущения.

Парень посмотрел на неё. Он не улыбался, а наблюдал за реакцией одноклассницы. Подвинул её ещё чуть ближе. Девушка поддалась. Юноша почувствовал её волнительную дрожь. Ладонь немного сжалась. Хотелось опустить руку ниже, к талии, но он сдержался.

На таком расстоянии он смог разглядеть ближе черты лица Йеннифер. Фиолетовые глаза с огромными ресницами, пухлые губы, родинка на щеке и приятный запах у шеи. Теперь он чувствовался его отчётливо. Крыжовник и сирень…

Молодые люди пошли к выходу, перекидываясь фразами и взглядами.

начало / предыстория / продолжение  

[annmarcus63]

I've always love the idea of game Geralt x series Jaskier.

Here's an idea. While training, Ciri's powers went out of control sending Game!Geralt to the Series!The witcher universe. Game Geralt meets Jaskier and Geralt. The pair agree to help him get to Kaer Morhen, since when Ciri comes looking for him, she would look there first.  Here's a soulmate story, a thread with two ends. Geralt doesn't want him, but someone else might.

"Are there ....soulmates...in your world?" They are sitting in front of a small bonfire where a boar leg is getting cooked. The sunset shimmer has blue and purple shades that rain on them. The Geralt from another universe (Jaskier calls him BeardGeralt and BeardGeralt likes it cause it sounds like bear, like a...pet name) tilts his head towards him, showing he has his entire attention.

"I don’t think so."

“Oh” BeardGeralt smiles, his handsome face lighting with barely concealed fondness that shows every time they talk in private. His Geralt, the real Geralt, is currently brushing off Roach trying to appear as if he's not listening to their conversation. "Disappointed, are you?" Jaskier snorts.

"No really. Actually I'm relieved my counterpart doesn't have one, it wouldn't be fair, to me I mean."

"Then you'll be glad to know he's goddamn miserable. Couldn't catch a single fly." Jaskier's face lights up like a child on their name day. "Egotistical and malicious. You share those with Dandelion" adds BeardGeralt without a trace of judgment or anger, only amusement.

"But more handsome" says Jaskier with a wink, BeardGeralt gives him an appreciative look, a slight smile hidden under his beard. Jaskier has been feeling this tension between them. Not entirely sexual per se but more, something mysterious that's calling them. He has always flirt with his Geralt but he has never responded, has never been interested, but It's not the same with BeardGeralt and it feels nice, to be wanted for once, for more than a quick fuck. He must also admit that it is nice to hold the interest of one Geralt, even if it's not his, his soulmate. It shows him in a way that destiny wasn't wrong with them, that Jaskier could have been wanted by his soulmate, at least in another universe. That they could have been happy together. 

"He's happy. He's with Priscilla" BeardGeralt says calmly, looking at the fire briefly. Jaskier tries to remember if he has known a Priscilla, he hasn't.

“Bastard” Jaskier throws his arms in the air in melodramatic surrender. He's not upset, not really, he's glad his duplicate from this other universe in which soulmates don’t exist is happy, but that doesn't make him any less of a lucky bastard. After all his biggest competition has always been himself, this Dandelion is him, so, yeah it feels like a competition. One that Jaskier is losing. 

Jaskier is so immersed in his own reasoning that he gets caught up when BeardGeralt asks in a cautious voice "Where's yours?"

"My what?"

“Soulmate” And that's the thing, isn't it? He has a soulmate and a mark on his forearm to prove it and that soulmate is, in fact, a few meters from them tending to his horse.

There must be something in his expression, a dull compliance that has woven, somehow, on his heart (and people says the eyes are the windows of the heart), because the other Geralt dawns on the fact that Geralt from this world is Jaskier's soulmate. 

And suddenly his Geralt is there, in front of them whelling the leg above the fire "It's burning" he growls looking up and meeting BeardGeralt’s eyes. Cat-like eyes, they both have beautiful eyes, they're the same and so unique at the same time, apart from each other. His Geralt is younger, he has a soul of one who still hasn't found how to live with pain and self-hatred. BeardGeralt is older, the kind of good wine older, he has a soul of one who has learned to live with all of it, he’s wiser and is full of quiet regret.

The witchers are speaking with their eyes, two predators speaking the same language. They stop the staring contest after a few seconds. The other Geralt doesn't ask again and Jaskier is relieved. Later, when the moon is glowing in the sky and they're trying to sleep, Jaskier thinks of how warm BeardGeralt feels next to him, it's cold so they're sleeping close to each other and wonders what it would be to be loved by him.

I'm posting this here again with small changes

If you want to read more let me know

love u

[vargassdottir]

Fingers on Ivory | Jaskier x Priscilla One-Shot

Inspired by the following picture by the incredible @marietta-kerdzevadze (see her Instagram >here< for more of her amazing work!). Thank you so much for giving me permission to write a piece based on your stunning art!

Warnings: Witcher 3 spoilers! Mentions of violence, PTSD, depression, angst. But don’t worry, there’ll be plenty of fluff too!

Tiny patters on the window panes, and glimmers of sunshine just barely peeking through the clouds. It was those days that Priscilla dreaded most. Once upon a time she could have stared out the glass, hearing the thrum of the cabaret below, and compose some heart-wrenching rendition to woo the crowds in a few nights time. But ever since..

Ever since..

Sigh.

Ever since that night, the rain on the windows sounded like claws. The sun felt taunting, a glaring reminder of the bright eyes that watched her squeal and cry. The beats and cheers from below felt like her screams that could never quite leave her throat during that ordeal.. Nor would again, not in the same way.

Even her beloved, who patiently sat with her day after day, never pushing, always kind and smiling, or offering up tale after tale of his adventures with Geralt, Yennefer, Ciri, or even Regis and Annarietta (though the latter remained somewhat a sore subject), could not seem to break her from her state of ever gazing. The fear crinkling up in the corner of her eyes with every sleepless night and restless nightmares.

In the end, of all people, it was Zoltan who offered Jaskier the icebreaker.

“The lass needs to feel whole again, dun’nae take it personal. She misses her music.”

It was like a jolt of lightning coursed through him then. Of course! His darling Priscilla, prized for her voice of wonder and alluring tales, the great Calonetta.. Her voice dry, cracked and stolen.. She needed to find her muse again!

Not the lute, no, that was personal to she and he, the strums of chords mixed with notes of lyrics, it would remind her too much of what she was still seeking to recover. No, something new, to her and not to him.

Two nights later, and after a series of frustrated groans, huffs, and enough curses in Elder to make an elf blush, Jaskier’s triumph was echoed with a definitive: “Aha!”

Not ten minutes later did Priscilla wander in, her once bouncy and well styled locks hanging limply around her head, like sodden straw. Timid, dark circles eyes widening with curiousity, a light not seen since that night..

The piano, his victory, Jaskier sat at the overly large stool, and a second cushion beside him, just for her. It took a moment, that felt like a lifetime, before he felt the bench shift and the heat of her body reach out from beside him, tickling his bare forearms like a warm breeze. He took two, three deep breaths, barely daring to look at her, else he might tempt fate. But she didn’t move. Not a muscle.

Gently smiling, he rolled down his sleeves and pressed his fingertips on the ivory keys, playing a simple but cheerful tune, one note at a time. Over and over he played, tap tap tap.. Pling pling pling. They sat there for almost an hour, her azure eyes patiently watching the pattern, her muttered breaths just about reaching his ears as she counted the rhythm out. For the first time in weeks, he began to see that shine come back to her, ever so slightly.

Just as he thought to call it enough for the night, he rose up, and as he turned to the door, he heard it.

Pling. Pling. Pling.

Spinning on his heels, midnight gaze wide with wonder, he saw his Cilla. Not the shadow of herself as she had been, but the woman he fell in love with oh so long ago. Gently padding towards her, as she bit at her lower lip and tried to recall the notes in the correct order, he gently placed his hands over hers, guiding her ever so lightly to the right keys. Soft pressure atop her fingers with his own, his breath in her ear as he hummed the tune out as they played.

Even as she began to grasp the tune, he kept his hands atop hers, fighting the urge to intertwine their fingers. And with her mind fixed on her craft, as it would be on those usual rainy days, once upon a time, she felt the brush of a chaste kiss on the crown of her head, causing to her to release a breath she didn’t know she had been holding.

She couldn’t bring herself to smile, not just yet.. But the unspoken love was there, in that moment, they knew.

And, for the first time in weeks, Priscilla slept soundly that night, tightly wrapped in Jaskier’s embrace.

[hum-my-name]

Another fic for @whataboutthebard!!

Prompt: Getting to know each other

Pairing: Jaskier/Priscilla

Warnings: None

Title: The song stuck in my head

<>

It shouldn’t be an important evening, Jaskier thinks as he sits around one of Oxenfurt’s stickier tavern tables, laughing at a joke Valdo made about one of their professors. The sunset sits around the city with that early evening glow, too early to get properly drunk but just late enough for the university students to begin claiming the city’s alcohol supply. Jaskier leans into the warmth bubbling across his skin though he knows he’s barely had enough drink to get away with acting so childish, mimicking Valdo’s poor pronunciation of proper literary terms and dodging the crumbs Valdo throws in retaliation. 

No, it’s not an important evening— until the door pushes open and the very air around Jaskier changes. A brush of a cool breeze winds through the tavern’s patrons, following a trail until it strikes Jaskier with a shudder, sticking to him and turning his head until he’s forced to look only at her .

Jaskier’s familiar with the feeling of love at first sight— want or lust, to be more exact— so he doesn’t know what to call the sensation that settles in his chest when he watches this new girl walk into the bar. It’s all at once comforting and frightening, nerve-wracking and terribly exciting.

“Ah, Julian. Find another heart to break?” Valdo leans towards him with a sly smile. “Another lover to add onto your list?”

“Fuck off,” Jaskier says, scowling when Valdo only laughs.

The blonde girl who entered makes her way to a corner table, smiling and raising her hand when a group of friends, it seems, calls her over with waves and shouts of a name Jaskier can’t make out. The tavern’s empty enough, though, that he hears her responding laughter. He sees the curve of pink lips when she smiles. 

Jaskier didn’t come here tonight to find a partner. He came to relax after a week of papers and exams, of battling Valdo for the top spot in class only for some other student to beat them to it. Even now, Jaskier reminds himself how rude it would be to leave Valdo alone— even if Jaskier’s heart bursts into his throat, certain that Valdo would understand if Jaskier was leaving here with someone like her . 

No. Fuck. He shakes his head and turns away. He’s here to drink and joke and nothing more. 

At least, that’s what he reminds himself as Valdo shoves a tankard of ale into his hand. 

“Gods, Julian, you look like a swooning maiden,” he says.

“Am I a pretty maiden, at least?” Jaskier asks, fixing a smirk onto his lips. Turned back around, he’s no longer facing the blonde; his chest aches with a rather dramatic pang of loss, berating him for turning away so quickly. He shoves the feeling down with a long drink, missing Valdo’s response as he fights the urge to glance over his shoulder.

“You’re more boring than usual tonight,” Valdo says after a moment, wrinkling his nose at Jaskier. With a drawn out sigh, he shoves away from the table. “I’m going to see if they have anything stronger here— perhaps that will lift your spirits. Do try to find a personality while I’m gone.”

Jaskier’s hand lifts in a rude gesture towards Valdo, though it’s only half as sincere as it could be. 

“Only if you promise not to steal it from me when you return,” Jaskier teases, twisting his head to watch Valdo as he walks past him.

A fatal mistake, truly, as it brings his gaze back to that girl.

Keep reading on AO3!!

[arreloi]

Some Dandelion and Priscilla for a friend (not on Tumblr sadly)

Also, tagging @lohrendrell, cause that was one of the options you wanted to see (Don't worry, you gonna get that Geralt x Dandelion anyway)

[fangirlsfavoritebardboy]

I would like to apologize while I'm ahead and say that I am almost done with the last chapter of "Welly Boots", and I may have gone overboard and decided to make Priscilla a ghost. My bad 👉👈

[underpreparedbard]

✨Masterlist✨

My AO3: @likeasexygoose

Ko-Fi: @underpreparedbard

Requests are currently: CLOSED

Fandoms I write for: The Witcher, Merlin (BBC), Firefly/Serenity, Star Wars, Sand Castle

My fave ships: Geraskier, Yennskier, Geraskefer, Jaskier x Eskel, Jaskier x Lambert, Geralt x Eskel, Geralt x Lambert, Jaskier x Priscilla, Lambert x Aiden, Merthur, Merlin x Gwaine, Merlin x Lancelot, Merlin x Morgana, Morgana x Gwen, Mal x Inara, Mal x Zoe, Mal x Kaylee, Kaylee x Jayne, Reylo, Captain Syverson

Multi-Chapter Fics:

Blue Eyes Burn Red - AO3 

Rience finally discovers a way to get revenge on Jaskier. The secret is elder blood. 

Chapters: 3/?, word count: 2,702 - currently ongoing

One Shots:

We’ll Get You A New One - AO3

Jaskier is ambushed at camp while Geralt is hunting. What could they possibly take from him?

Word count: 867

For You - AO3

Geralt has been working contracts non-stop and can barely keep himself upright. Luckily he has his bard to take care of him.

Word count: 1,095

I Saw You Staring - AO3 | Tumblr

While bathing in a stream, Geralt discovers something about his companion. Just how dark could Jaskier’s past really be?

Word count: 988

It’s Quiet - AO3

Things have been going smoothly for Geralt and Jaskier for a while. What could go wrong?

Word count: 918 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Quizzes:

Guess the lyrics - Burn Butcher Burn

Guess the lyrics - Toss A Coin To Your Witcher

Guess the lyrics - Song Of The Seven

Guess the lyrics - Whoreson Prison Blues

Guess the lyrics - Her Sweet Kiss

Guess the lyrics - The Golden One

Guess the Lyrics - Ride Of The Witcher

Who said what? Witcher edition - part 1

[havenoffandoms]

Congratulations on 800 followers!! Could I request prompt 59. with Jaskier x Priscilla, please? Thanks so much!!

Thank you nonnie, and you certainly can! This is soooo soft with a hint of angst. I hope you enjoy it!

You can request a prompt here. You can also request the same prompt twice for a different pairing. I will add all of my answered prompts to a masterlist once I’ve written a few. 

Dandelion x Priscilla - “The thought of losing you scares me” (prompt 59)

Master Dandelion. Priscilla - she’s badly hurt.

When Dandelion learned that Priscilla was attacked, it was like the foundations of his entire existence shook and threatened to crumble. At first it felt like the ground was yanked from underneath his feet and it had taken all of Dandelion’s self-control not to drop to his knees and scream in utter despair. After the initial shock subsided, worry gripped Dandelion’s stomach in its cold iron grip, twisting and pulling until he felt physically sick. As he followed Geralt to the Vilemerius Hospital, it was all Dandelion could do not to throw up his lunch into a bush. On their way up the stairs leading to the room Priscilla was being kept in, Dandelion tried to rationalise the situation. It could simply not be Priscilla lying in that hospital bed. There was a mistake. It wasn’t her, not his Priscilla, not his Callonetta, his beautiful nightingale. 

When Dandelion saw her lying in that bed, her face bruised and her breathing shallow, small pained moans pushing past her lips. Worry gave way to despair. Who would do this to this beautiful woman? Priscilla could never have done anything to earn herself such a beating. She was kind, wore her heart on her sleeve, and most importantly she would never hurt a fly. Never!

Her condition is critical but stable. 

Despair then gave way to anger as Dandelion turned to face Geralt. 

“Find the bastard who did this. Find him and kill him.” 

“Didn’t need any convincing,” Geralt assured him. 

Even though that incident happened nearly a year ago and Priscilla was well on the mend, Dandelion still woke up in the middle of night sweating and crying, his hand coming up to clutch at his chest as if the gesture alone would steady his racing heart. His eyes would then dart to Priscilla’s side of the bed - a bed they’d been sharing for many months now - just to make sure she was there, that she was safe. 

Today, as he stands on the balcony of The Chameleon, Dandelion lets the chilly night breeze cool his sweat-flushed skin. After waking up from yet another nightmare, he decides to leave bed so he wouldn’t disturb a still sleeping Priscilla. Dandelion’s eyes scan the streets below, his keen ears occasionally picking up the sound of drunken chatter or chanting from the patrons leaving The Chameleon. Wednesdays are Dandelion’s day off, where he left the managing duties of his tavern to his very capable and reliable staff. He needs the time off and he needs this time to be close to Priscilla. On Wednesdays, they spend their time working on her singing. They have to take it slow - Priscilla’s vocal chords are still very fragile, but she is nothing if not determined to make them work. 

Dandelion helps because there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for his Callonetta, his beautiful nightingale. Dandelion is patient with her, he never pushes her further than she’s comfortable going but he often has to gently remind her not to put too much pressure on herself. Priscilla worries she will never be able to sing again. Dandelion is just grateful that she’s there, that she lives, that she breathes. The sound of her soft snoring, the sound of her croaked laughter, the way her voice breaks when she’s tired - all of these sounds were results of the trauma she experience, but they still sounded like music to Dandelion’s ears, the most beautiful kind there is, because Priscilla is there. She’s there, with him, alive and well. 

Dandelion doesn’t care if she’ll never sing again. Hell, he’ll give up his own singing career and focus solely on his poetry and his cabaret if it’ll make Priscilla feel like less of a failure. She is his life’s achievement, his most treasured jewel. His life wouldn’t make sense without Priscilla in it. 

A soft hand pulls Dandelion out of his reverie, causing him to flinch at the unexpected touch. A whispered apology floats between them. He doesn’t need to turn around to know that Priscilla has joined him. The smell of her perfume - lily of the valley and hyacinth, his favourite - washes over him in calming waves. 

“Priscilla, my love,” he says, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her to his warm body, “what are you doing out of bed? You’ll catch your death out here.”

“The bed’s cold without you in it,” she gives as explanation, her voice slightly husky from misuse and heavy with sleep. Dandelion places a soft kiss to her head. “Come back to bed, darling.”

“In a minute, my sweet,” Dandelion promises, “I just need the fresh air.”

“Another nightmare.” Priscilla guesses right, of course. She knows how tormented Dandelion still is over what happened to her. How he blames himself, how he wishes he could’ve been the one to avenge her and not Geralt. But Dandelion, sadly, is no warrior. He has other qualities to make up for that, but what good was his poetry and his singing voice when the woman he loves is in danger? 

“Yes.” 

There’s no point lying to her. She would see right through him, anyway. 

“Why do you torture yourself so, Dandelion? You know I don’t blame you for what happened.”

“Perhaps not, but I blame myself. I should’ve... I should not have let you leave the cabaret alone.” Dandelion turns to face Priscilla, his eyes shimmering with everything he can’t bring himself to say because of the tightness in his throat. Priscilla’s hand comes up to cup his cheek, her engagement ring catching the light of a street lantern. She agreed to become his wife several weeks ago and yet Dandelion still feels like he doesn’t deserve her. 

“As if you could stop me from doing anything of the sort. I am a modern woman, Dandelion, I can do what I want,” Priscilla challenges, a mischievous light twinkling in her eyes, “my love, please I’m begging you. Don’t linger in the past. Look with me towards the future instead. Oh, and what a bright future lies ahead of us.”

“How can I forget the past,” Dandelion asks, a hint of desperation lacing his tone, “when it reminds me of what I almost lost. Your future husband, my sweet, is the biggest coward of all. I can’t forget what happened to you, I can’t forget how scared I was when I thought that… that you might not… Priscilla, the thought of losing you scares me.”

“I know, Dandelion,” she brushes her thumb across his cheek, catching a wayward tear in the process, “but you keep telling me that you want to get this behind us. How are we supposed to do this if you won’t stop blaming yourself for what happened to me?”

“Priscilla - “

“Hush, I won’t hear it,” she gently chastises, a long elegant finger coming to cover his lips. A small smile tugs at the corner of Priscilla’s lips as she stands on her tiptoes and places the chastest of kisses on Dandelion’s lips. “I won’t hear it, alright? Come back to bed, dear fiancé, or do you want your future wife to freeze before her wedding?”

“We certainly don’t want that to happen,” Dandelion agrees, his chest warming as he gazes in Priscilla’s eyes. He thinks that drowning in these blue orbs would not be the worst way to go. Dandelion follows Priscilla back to bed and wraps her in his arms, pulling her close and nuzzling her neck. He places hot, open-mouthed kisses on her fair skin, occasionally nibbling the spots he knows drive her crazy. There is no heat to his ministrations, not tonight. Tonight, he simply needs to feel her close.

“I love you, my Callonetta.”

“I love you too, Dandelion. Now try to get some sleep. We have a busy day in the morning.”

Priscilla pressed close to him and the feeling of her breath hitting his hairy chest are both reassuring sensations. His hand resting between her shoulder blades faintly picks up on her heart beating softly in a regular rhythm. Comforted by the fact that the light of his life was not going anywhere anytime soon, Dandelion succumbs to a dreamless slumber.

[ghostlylicious]

cw suggestive‼️

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sighh,,,, anyways new dandelion art after a while feat. his gf priscilla as a higher vampire !! dw this won't be all there will be more😼

[mrwitcher]

Would you consider writing Jaskier x Priscilla, please?

Papers laid, scattered all over the bed around the two of them. Priscilla laughed as she read over the draft. Jaskier was sitting across from her on the bed, her legs sat over his. His pants were soft under her bare thighs, his shirt was draped over her. The light from the candles around the room made Jaskier's eyes sparkle and Priscilla's golden hair glow.

Jaskier pulled the bottle of wine away from his lips. "What's so funny, my love?" He asked, lips posed in a smile, ready for praise over a particularly clever joke that he had slipped in.

"There are a few problems," She said, unable to repress the smile in her voice.

Jaskier's brows shot up, but Priscilla continued before he could get started on the rant he had building up on his tongue.

"It's bad," She said, giggling a bit, "Thank the gods you had me take a look before you tried to perform this."

Jaskier's jaw dropped open. "It's ba-" He stopped midsentence, holding his finger up as he took another drink from the bottle. "It's bad?"

A smile was spread across her lips, "Terrible."

Priscilla reached over and took the wine from him. The moment Jaskier's hands were free, they were on Priscilla's waist, pulling her in closer.

"I think I deserve some reparations for the insults to my work," Jaskier's pout hid a smile of his own.

Priscilla held up a finger, took a drink of the wine before meeting his lips halfway.