#no beta we die like calanthe

[finstermond]

Witcher Ranch AU

Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer of Vengerberg

Ciri, Vesemir, Eskel, Lambert, Jaskier

---

Geralt gazed upon the vast grassland that belonged to him - or the horses, as he would say. It had belonged to his father before he gifted him his inheritance early as a wedding gift.

Almost hidden by the bushes grazed some of the horses. He could see two heads of adult ones and one of a foal but only one of the adult heads was discernible. A white mare - Endrega, he was sure of it. What a beautiful one. Her fur glistered in the sun as fresh snow. Riding her canter felt as if riding a breeze.

The Morhen Ranch bred horses for some generations now. It was his life, the only one he knew. The only one he ever wanted to know.

“Hey,” his brother Eskel disturbed his thoughts, “think you can actually hold the post or do you want to keep looking at the horses and make your wife jealous?”

Geralt grunted and readjusted his grip. Eskel sighed and struck the hammer on the post.

“Thank you, Eskel.” said Geralt.

“No problem, it’s my job after all. If your son can’t even hold a post up I need to chime in!” teased Eskel his older brother. “Ah fuck you,” answered Geralt, “you know his mother wanted to show him something today.” They walked back to their horses and put the hammer, the old posts they had renewed now, planks and the nails back in the cart Eskel’s pinto was strapped to. Eskel’s wolfdog Bann waddled his tail, ready to run back to the farm.

“She did?” asked Eskel while mounting. Geralt went up to his riding horse Roach. Originally he wanted to name all horses Roach - followed by numbers. Several people intervened. The brown mare greeted him with a soft snort.

“Yeah, she took all of the kids with her after school. They’re riding to see a plant that only blooms for a few days a year.”

“Flowers?”

“Yup.”

“I don’t understand your wife.” Geralt squinted towards Eskel.

“Rarely anyone does.”

---

“Daddy!” a wall of shouts arrived Geralt as he came back from the field. Eskel had taken a turn to look for the chicken fence. Geralt almost didn’t manage to climb down from Roach before a wall of children hugged him. Well, apart from his oldest son, Eric, who had a phase of being too cool for his dad. He had his arms crossed, smiled nonetheless and stood close. It was understandable behaviour being 13 and all but Geralt couldn’t stop being a tad bit sad about it. At the same time he mirrored his mother so much. A gaze that could kill, hair as black as the night, his smile. Apart from that his stature was more like his. He’d grow up to be broad and tall, Geralt was sure of it. The second eldest, Leo was 11 and like a younger twin to his brother. It seemed like he’d grow even taller for he was about the height Eric had been a year ago. Casimir - their third son - just turned eight and currently wants to grow long hair which keeps getting into his face. Geralt kneeled down to pick up Roger, their youngest son at five who was born hunched and tried not to groan. Gwyn, their only daughter at age seven - and a mirror to her mother in all but character - took the chance of her dad kneeling and gave Geralt a peck on his cheek. She had made her brothers flower crowns which all of them - except Eric who had it bound to his belt - proudly wore. Gwyn handed her father one sheepishly. “I made you one too!” she exclaimed. Geralt happily tried to put it on but his daughter had over measured his head and it was more of a necklace. He beamed nonetheless and walked towards the main house, children following him. Eric ran behind after he finished unsaddling Roach and let her into the paddock.

Nearing the house, Geralt smelled stew and got excited. With his free hand he opened the door, put out his boots and walked towards the kitchen. “I’m home!” he exclaimed.

Two of the kids detached from him and ran towards the stew and the raven haired woman standing before the pot.

Yennefer turned around and greeted Geralt with a fleeting smile and a kiss. The kids all let an exasperated “Ew” be known.

She looked him up and down, noted his necklace and grinned wickedly, “Your daughter thinks you’re bigheaded.” she said. The kids took off around the kitchen and Roger wanted to be let down so Geralt kneeled again to put him back on his feet. Yennefer turned towards the stew. Geralt hugged her from behind.

“Wonder if her mother keeps telling her that.” he said. She let herself loose in his arms.

“Might be.” she closed her eyes for a second.

“How was the flower?” Geralt asked.

Yennefer chuckled. “The auraris scenoloptis? Beautiful. Our kids got distracted by wolfbanes, moleyarrows, blowballs and ginatias though.” she told him. Geralt looked down on his necklace, made up of those flowers. “Yeah, right.” he said.

“I’m drying some petals and hope I can use them for a salve soon. The fishmonger's daughter needs some help getting pregnant.” she explained.

“What’s so different to using white myrtle?” he asked.

“Well it’s more potent in its aphrodisiac agency and acts as a booster to the female cycle by activating-” she realised Geralt was more interested in sniffing her hair than letting her explain in detail, “- in other words you have a couple more fertile days.”

“We didn’t need that.” he added. She turned towards him.

“Be glad, could have been different in another life!”

---

Lambert had returned from the city. His carriage was full of groceries, metals, fabric and leather. Eskel helped him unpack. Eric and Leo joined while Casimir, Gwyn and Roger had disappeared in the stables. “Everyone’s buying stuff as if a plague’s coming.” Lambert exclaimed. “Well maybe some are blessed with prophetic dreams or just like to prepare for winter early, like we do.” Eskel answered. Eric and Leo carried a big package to their storage house. Lambert’s two wolfdogs and Eskel’s greeted each other and proceeded to run around the cart and ranch.

Vesemir joined the unpackers, “Like we do? Those kids would eat those horses up in two weeks if we won’t buy food!” and kneeled down to pick something up which stopped both Eskel and Lambert to shout “Stop it!” and basically rip what he tried to pick up from his hands.

“Stop it, old man, you know it’s not good for your back!” Lambert shouted again.

Geralt and Yennefer, hearing commotion, walked out and soon were greeted by this scene. Vesemir put himself back up and made a sour face.

Yennefer called out to him, “Come on and help me inside, Vesemir.” after that she greeted Lambert with a quick “Hello!” which he answered with a “Hey, Yennefer.” She turned to got back inside.

In passing Geralt who sped to help unload he murmured, “My own sons don’t think I can do anything anymore and my daughter-in-law just gives me one command after another. I am not inept, I’m just getting a bit old!” Geralt patted him on the back. Vesemir had not been as quiet as he thought since Lambert quickly added a “I’ll be damned if there is a person one day she doesn’t order around. So don’t feel bad about that part.” which handed him a grunt and a sour look from Geralt.

Lambert shrugged. “Don’t tell me it’s not true!”

Without a word, Eskel threw something heavy at their youngest brother for him to shut up. There was silence for a few seconds. The boys returned and began carrying another package towards the storage hut.

“How was the town?” asked Eskel.

“Good, hectic. People are going a bit crazy. Emreis bought the Cintraen Stables. Ran ‘em out of business I say. I mean, crazy coincidences - Calanthe and Eist died a few weeks ago. Pertussis they say. Their granddaughter is missing. I mean she has nowhere to go, no family left anyways. Wolves probably got her. Hm. Old hag apparantly died. Can’t say I miss ‘er, had a few debts. Ah, I managed to have two of our foals of next year reserved. An Craite wants one of Alps and Foltest wants either one of Kayran or Eredin - maybe even both he’s not sure. Ugh Friday, finally!” Lambert told his brothers.

“Calanthe and Eist died?” Geralt asked.

“Yeah, pertussis apparently. Emreis already had a signed contract weeks before but I still get why people are thinking it might have been on purpose. Even more so that Cirenella or whatever her name was ‘s missing. You’d think they’d have prepared for it.”

They hadn’t been friends but lived in silent respect as almost neighbours and hearing about the tragic story around Calanthe’s daughter and her young grandchild had been the topic of many conversations with Yennefer. She had often remarked whether or not Pavetta was actually Vesemir’s daughter as a joke since Geralt and Pavetta had shared the same white-colored hair. Since Pavetta’s daughter was born a bastard with no known father it had led to some distressing silence.

“Hm.”

---

After having everything from Lambert’s shopping trip stored and packed where it belonged, they ate. Having ten mouths to feed was not something Yennefer ever imagined to do but she did it with glee - and she didn’t have to do it daily since both Lambert and Vesemir loved to cook. Geralt was good at it but he would rather feed the horses daily than his children, to put it briefly. “Horses don’t play with their food.” he’d say to Yennefer as an excuse not to cook. “Well then I won’t play with your meat!” was the whispered reply that usually took great effect.

Lambert told tales of the city with his nephews and his niece hung on his lips while eating.

Geralt only scooped a few spoons in, his mind occupied with the child of Pavetta. Only Roger who had snuck in the pantry and stolen some sweet pie and therefore wasn’t quite as hungry as his siblings noted his father being absent and tried to smile at him. Yenenfer who kept an extra eye on her criminal son to check whether he was eating anything healthy at all thus noticed Geralt being absent minded. He felt her gaze and looked up towards her. They exchanged a few facial expressions as married folk tend to do and Yennefer understood he would come up to her with it in time but later.

Yennefer returned to give Roger a stern gaze and he hastily put another spoon full of stew into his mouth, then smiled, mouth full of stew at her.

---

Beer in hand, children in bed, freshly bathed Geralt stood next to the fireplace. Vesemir was dozing off in his rocking chair. His ale stood beside him on the ledge.

Roger had a phase of direly needing his mom to sleep and while Geralt had read them all a story it was Yennefer who was needed to hold Rogers hand until he slept right now. Sometimes she dozed off too and then came up later to the parlor.

Eskel and Lambert washed up, he could hear their voices softly getting to his ear. They would drink a quick beer together, then go to their houses. Eskel as the ranch’s smith above his furnace and Lambert next to the storage hut. Vesemir took turns sleeping at Eskel’s or in his house which was way smaller and originally planned as a guest house. On colder nights he stayed at Eskel’s.

Originally they had all slept in the main house but with one child after another place grew scarce soon. And then again Geralt and Yennefer were grateful for every bit of privacy.

Geralt was still recovering from a leg injury he got when taming last year's horses. He had taken the children with him. Leo and Casimir almost got in harm's way when they groomed an already tamed horse of theirs, Morvudd, and his wild horse almost crashed into the other one. Morvudd jumped and left space for the wild one to crash into Leo and Casimir so Geralt got it to turn again and crash into a splintered fence, causing his leg to cut open.

The children had been horrified of course. Eric and Leo quickly ran back home to get help from their mother. It was resolved rather fast but since then his leg wasn’t healed completely and his duties on the ranch got split and taken over by his family.

After a while Eskel and Lambert came into the parlor and laughed at their sleeping father “No, I am not getting old.” Lambert mimicked his tone of speech and they all chuckled. They drank their beer and then wished each other good night. Eskel woke Vesemir and they left together. Geralt sat down into the rocking chair when he heard steps coming downstairs.

“Look who’s still awake.” he said with a low voice.

“Ha-ha.” Yennefer fake laughed. “Your son was scared you’re still hurting and cannot eat because of this.” she explained and then yawned.

She sat on his lap, carefully avoiding his hurt leg and began stroking his beard. No words were needed, no further inquiring.

“Lambert told us about Calanthe and Eist dying.” he began. He began caressing her back.

“Cintrean Stables?” she asked while closing her eyes. He nodded. “Yes, he said Emreis bought it. Didn’t mention they died though. What about -” he cut her off.

“Went missing, he said. She has no family left. She’s probably just a thorn in Emreis’ eyes.” Geralt added. Yennefer turned to look at him. “You...?”

He shrugged, “I don’t know do you…?”

She smiled, “What’s one mouth more to feed?”

One moment in silence then they started giggling. “Oh, Eric’s not gonna like this.”

Geralt looked towards the fire, sad about this prospect. Yennefer turned her body more towards him. “Hey. He’s having a phase. Just like Roger who needs me to sleep right now because he thinks if I am not there monsters will come. Eric is in a phase where he thinks he doesn’t need his dad and can protect himself from all the monsters in the world. The boys in school teased him because he told so much about you in school and then you got hurt even though being immortal according to Eric, the teacher told me.”

“Oh.” Geralt’s eyes widened.

“Geralt, it’s not your fault.” Yennefer tried to reassure him. “It’s a phase. He will get over it soon enough and then it’ll be me he hates. He’s starting puberty. It’s gonna be - fun.”

“Fun.” Geralt repeated.

“I need to convince myself or else I am gonna get crazy. We really had five children in eight years which means that they’re gonna be pubescent at the same time at one point.”

They both stared into the fire.

“It’s gonna be six children, Yen.” Geralt remarked. Yennefer smiled, then her gaze saddened. “We’re gonna have to find her first.”

---

They were awoken by a loud stomps on the stairways and shrieks of playing fetch. Yennefer went from sleeping to a commanding tone in mere seconds. “No running on the stairs!” she shouted, silence followed, quickly to be exchanged with a trail of steps running towards the two of them who had slept on the rocking chair, covered in fur and a quilt.

“Mommy! Daddy! Good morning!” they exclaimed and threw a ball between them. A game Geralt didn’t get the rules of. “We don’t have to get the rules,” Yennefer once explained to him, “what’s important is a) that they’re playing at all b) they are playing together and c) they’re letting us be for five minutes”.

They got forehead kisses from their parents - even Eric who Geralt just grabbed and pulled towards him. Yennefer saw Eric smile afterwards and was reassured he just had a phase.

Breakfast was bread with cold meat and jam. And telling their children about the plan of adopting another child.

“She doesn’t have a family anymore - do you guys think we could be that for her?” Yennefer asked the children.

“But who is gonna protect her if Daddy’s away? I already have to protect all of them. And you!” Eric got worked up.

“First of all, I am perfectly capable of protecting myself and you,” Yennefer got serious, “second of all, your father has a job that means he has to stay with the herds several nights in a row. It’s not as if he’s gone forever or will leave forever. He’s never going alone and won’t ever go alone. And third of all, we are fine. I know you hear a lot of the jokes Lambert makes about you guys eating everything up one day but no it’s not the truth. We have enough for all. Hell, we would have enough if Lambert and Eskel finally got a -”

Geralt stopped Yennefer. “I think it’s okay now, Yen.”

Eric looked a bit beat down and angry at the same time, Geralt wondered why he hadn’t left yet but he guessed Eric was too proud for that.

“Hey buddy,” Geralt started, “I know you’re feeling a bit like I am not your friend anymore these days but I am. I don’t know what I did to make you feel this way but this is between us and shouldn’t -”

“Yeah yeah I know. Just keep on getting more children like I am not enough!” Eric stormed off, closing the door behind him by smashing it. Yennefer looked as shocked as rarely ever before.

Eskel peeked into the parlor. “Your son just crashed into me and then ran off? Are you alright -” he saw Yennefer's expression, Geralt being quite unhappy and the other children mildly confused. “Okay. I guess not. Uh. I will look for Lambert.” he left again.

Leo, after holding a “conference” with his siblings and being the eldest with Eric’s vanishing, told his parents that they were alright with another sister, should she “wish to join, be okay to make flower crowns, race towards the forest and back, accept the rules of ball-throw-game” and, most importantly the task they all hated but someone had to do “help folding bed sheets” which had Yennefer and Geralt fall out of their moment of shock and return to smiling. “Sure. We will present her with your demands.” Geralt told his son.

---

“Are you sure you won’t rather take the carriage?” Yennefer asked as Geralt mounted Roach. Vesemir already sat on his horse, a white gelding.

“Yes, Yen. We will be faster that way. She is alone out there and every minute might count.”

“I just worry-” Yennefer got interrupted by Vesemir: “His leg won’t fall off and I may be older than you all but I can ride a horse faster than you all can. Now stop being cheesy and give him a goodbye kiss.”

Yennefer did, presented Vesemir with a stern gaze and then waved them goodbye with the children, up until they got bored doing so.

Geralt and Vesemir took on a quick trot and reached the town soon after high noon. The town hall delivered a quick message in the form of Julian Alfred Pankratz alias Jaskier, one of the council members. “Geralt! Vesemir!” he exclaimed , “it is nice seeing you here!”. He came closer, leaving a waiting and now angry couple waiting for their meeting behind. “How is your leg? How are your children? How is… the witch doing?” Vesemir laughed at that last remark. “How are you, old man?” he asked Vesemir who visibly didn’t like being called ‘old man’. Geralt smirked at that, had he been okay with his wife getting insulted seconds before.

“Getting better each day, getting bigger each day, getting more beautiful each day.” Geralt answered. Jaskier shrugged. “Wow I really need to visit again.” he said.

“Yes, they miss their uncle.” said Vesemir. “And to be frank we could use a day of singing again.” Jaskier beamed.

“We’re here because of Pavetta’s child though.” Geralt chimed in.

“Who?” asked Jaskier.

“You know the child of surprise.”

“Ah. Sure. What a tragic story, isn’t it? I really need to make it a song. ‘Last flower of Cintra’, maybe? Hm. Sounds too floral. Lion? They had lion decor. But they still were a ranch. Rose? Yeah yeah sounds better. What are the odds of both grandparents dying mere days from each other?”

“Jaskier.” Geralt cut his evasions short.

“Right. Cirilla. What about her?”

“Lambert said she went missing and doesn’t have a family.” Geralt explained.

“Well at least the family part is true.” Jaskier said.

“What do you mean?”

“She doesn’t have any further family. Well except - surprisingly - a father should surface,” he noticed Geralt's stern look, “but no she doesn’t have any living family and no one willing or possible to take her. Alas she is not missing - okay yes she went missing for a quick moment but was quickly found and lives with the teacher for now.”

“Oh.” Vesemir and Geralt shared a look. They both were glad she was sfe for now.

“We spoke about maybe taking her in,” Geralt stated, “can I meet her?”

“Sure,” said Jaskier, “just maybe bring Yennefer next time. The council decided we would only let someone take her in after both had met them. You know it didn’t go well with the Jaromir boy last time and now he’s living on Emrais Ranch getting fed lies about how inept we are. And Emrais hasn’t even adopted him. I think it’s a bunch of kids just living off the ranch’s supplies.” Geralt wasn’t so sure that was the whole truth but he didn’t care.

“I think it’s best we ride back, Geralt. You and Yennefer can still ride back here today and meet her then. It’s no use going there alone. You shouldn’t make the decision yourself anyways. Would have been different if she still ran around in the forest.” Vesemir opined. Jaskier nodded consensual. “Yes I won’t be here for long anymore but you know where to meet me. I will have the papers ready should you decide to take her in.”

---

Yennefer and Geralt rode as fast as the wind. Her black stallion was called Aretuza and one of the fastest in the bunch. Roach had been tired out so he took Plotka, another brown mare.

“Remember when we got married in the town?” Yennefer smiled.

“Barely.” Geralt answered. Yennefer's smile vanished.

“You’re teasing me!” she turned sour. Geralt’s eyes widened in glee.

“Yen, I am just reminding you of the time you told me you were pregnant.”

“Oh,” she laughed, “I remember, you didn’t recall our wedding at first. To be fair they had you quite… drunk at the end of the night.”

The conversation had been barely a week after their wedding. Istredd, a study friend of Yennefer who didn’t make it to the wedding, congratulated them and then, after winking at both of them for seeing Yennefer's situation, asked whether they had chosen a name already. After he left Geralt asked her for what he congratulated. She had told him that they had wed which got Geralt confused.

“I wore white and had flowers? All our friends and family were there? You wore a dress shirt? You said ‘I do!’?”

His answer back then didn’t stem from being reluctant rather than actually not knowing what had been going on. “How was I even supposed to know? You always smell of lilac, wear white, black or black and white - also I still can’t believe any day I wear those horrible fancy clothes is a chance you take? I honestly thought it was a normal sunday. I mean okay, the drinking got out of hand but it happens, right?”

“Please tell me you at least remember what we need a name for?” Yennefer had asked, getting aggravated. His eyes had grown even more panicked.

“A horse?” Geralt had asked, confused.

“I’m seven months pregnant, Geralt.”

“Fuck.” Anxiety over having an unwanted child had now grabbed Yennefer. “We don’t have a name,” He took her into a deep hug and then started kissing her, “But well we have about two months, still.” Between her tears, Yennefer still had managed to laugh.

“I still can’t believe I forgot most of our wedding. It sucks to be honest.”

“At least you feel bad about it,” Yennefer said, “and I am so glad you didn’t suggest ‘Roach’ as a name in that moment. We wouldn’t have made a week of marriage.”

“I know.” he answered.

It was late afternoon when they rode into the town. Jaskier told Geralt he would alert the teacher of the situation and he would expect them at their home. The teachers house was small by comparison to the ranch but right next to the school which had its own advantages. They knocked on the door and were greeted by the teacher's wife and one of their children.

“Ah, Geralt and Yennefer. Come in!” she said and made room. As they walked in she asked a lot of questions about the room size for the children, how old they were, whether they were healthy. Geralt made some remarks about the size of the ranch to make known that some worth lied there. The teacher’s wife openend the door to the parlor where the teacher sat with Cirilla and one of their children. Cirilla looked about eight, was dressed in a blue dress and had white hair. Yennefer and Geralt exchanged a look and almost began to laugh. At first sight she looked more like his child than any of his did. Cirilla locked eyes with them and after everyone greeted each other and Geralt and Yennefer told her who they were she greeted them with: “I am Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon but you can call me Ciri. Will you take me with you now?”

She stood before them smiling sheepishly. “We could if you want to? We have a ranch with horses.” Geralt told her.

“And we have five children.” Yennefer added, asking herself why he always had to mention the horses before his children.

Ciri nodded.“Yes Jaskier has already told me about all that. Mr. Teacher has already explained to me that I cannot stay here.” she told them.

“I think we’re settled then? I am sure you will love our home.” Yennefer said, beaming while doing so. Ciri seemed to warm up quickly and they hoped it wouldn’t stop once meeting the wall of children they had at home. Her bag was packed quickly since she didn’t have a lot of stuff. Most important was the stuffed lion her grandmother gifted her which she held firmly.

“Can I ride with you?” she asked Geralt.

“Sure.” he smiled as he answered and promptly placed her on Roach who whinnied.

They talked about some basic stuff on the way back home. Her favorite food, color, animal. Stuff to get to know her and ease her into a situation she seemed to accept rather quickly.

---

Back on the Ranch they were greeted by all of them including the dogs standing together and waving. Geralt and Yennefer stopped their horses and got down. The children came nearer but were pretty shy. Eric stood before his siblings and greeted Ciri first. “Hey Ciri, I am Eric.” he said. Lambert and Eskel fist bumped which meant they prepared him for this moment. Geralt gave them a quick thumbs up. Everyone greeted Ciri who stood next to a squatting Yennefer. Ciri whispered in her ear “How am I supposed to remember all of those names?” Yennefer giggled once, then said “Don’t worry you can always ask, we won’t bite.”

Ciri nodded, still a bit unsure of the situation.

Lambert exclaimed: “Who’s hungry? I cooked.”

Geralt then noticed he hadn't eaten all day. His stomach growled, “I am hungry.” he said just as Ciri bravely expressed her hunger as well.

“Follow me!” said Lambert and the whole bunch followed him put.

Vesemir walked up to Geralt. “Sure it wasn’t you that got Pavetta pregnant?”

In another life, Yennefer's anger could kill people as easily as a storm. We’re glad it’s not this.

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

Braid, Curl, Flatten, and Pin

projection? dont know her. 

pairing: geralt and jaskier 

content warnings: jask is upset by an insult to his music? hair braiding? its pretty fluffy and soft ngl

__________________

Geralt took a deep breath, measuring his inhale, pause, and exhale, as he tried to meditate despite Jaskier’s pacing. The bard had taken a well-aimed and rather sharp insult to his music the morning before and he clearly wasn’t letting it go. He’d poured over his notebook full of verse the night before and refused to pick up his lute all the next day, so all his nervous energy was channeled into pacing and angry muttering. The witcher knew better than to interrupt him, having learned his lesson the first time he tried to tell Jaskier to relax. He simply had to wait it out or hope the bard would find a decent distraction. 

His ears pricked up when Jaskier’s feet stilled directly behind him. For a moment Jaskier just stood there, Geralt guessed he was picking at his nails but he couldn’t know for sure. 

“Could- Geralt, would you let me braid your hair?”

Without opening his eyes Geralt humed a hesitant response, “You know how to braid?”

Jaskier scoffed and Geralt imagined him putting a hand on his hip, “I had five older sisters. I can not only braid, but curl, flatten, and pin your hair into a style that would survive even a difficult contract.” 

“Hmmm…”

After a brief silence, Jaskier ran his fingers through the ends of Geralt’s hair. He just barely touched it, realistically he probably only brushed the strands to the side, but Geralt had to stifle a shiver all the same. 

“Can I? It's calming to have something to do with my hands,” Jaskier explained, “I wont be offended if you hate it, I promise.”

“If it stops your pacing…” Geralt sighed, feigning more reluctance than he felt. 

He vaguely remembered the last time Jaskier played with his hair. They had both been drunk as skunks and lounging about in the evening summer heat but the warmth of Jaskier’s lap under Geralt’s head hadn’t bothered him at all. The light tugs at his hair and fingers massaging his scalp was just as intoxicating as the wine and he’d fallen asleep with his head on Jaskier’s thighs. 

Feeling Jaskier’s fingers tug the tie from his hair and gently comb through it was an entirely different experience while sober.

The tugs at knots stung a bit more, but Geralt was also acutely aware of every little maneuvering touch and every brush of the bard’s hand over his shoulders. He told himself Jaskier was just moving his hair, it wasn’t some secret indulgence like Geralt hoped. Regardless, his heartbeat picked up so quickly he almost failed to notice the bard’s slowing until they met at a nearly even pace. 

As he worked at untangling, Jaskier shuffled less and less, settling into a stillness Geralt had yet to witness of the bard. When he started sectioning Geralt’s hair he began to hum, bringing the ghost of a smile to Geralt’s lips. He made a mental note of how quickly it calmed his traveling companion but didn’t dare say anything. 

The actual braiding sensations had a very rhythmic quality to them, a gentle tug, a finger tracing a line against Geralt’s scalp, another gentle tug, and repeat. Soon enough Geralt felt himself settling into a meditative state, more relaxed than he had been all week. 

Right when he thought Jaskier was done, he released the braid and picked it apart only to start over again. He did this several times and even if he was a bit confused, Geralt was grateful. He didn’t think he could ask Jaskier to do it again, no matter how much he loved it.

[all-hail-the-witcher]

I’m new to watching Witcher I’d appreciate out of context character description for the Witcher! (So far it’s only Geralt the tiddy man)

special thanks to @kuripon @funkylittlebard and @dapandapod for the helps 

geralt: brooding ass man

jaskier: donkey who left his cat on the stove

yennefer: sexy but insane witch 

ciri: rip ur eardrums 

lambert: snarky angy boi

aiden: Not Dead Cat Man

eskel: tiddy man

renfri: angry pretty girl

vesemir: Dad

stregobor: no beta we die like stregobor fucking should have

triss: nice healing lady

tissaia: sugar mommy 

calanthe: nice armor lady with tragic racist flaw

dara: cinnamon roll my beloved

pavetta: screamy bride

cahir: netflix does not equal book

istredd: backstabbing bastard

doppler: ass man two, steal your face bugaloo

fringilla: taboo? what taboo??

roach: best girl

sabrina: tiddy lady

duny: spiky man 

mousesack: not impressed by the sad silk trader

chiredean: friendzoned 

borch: there's a surprise inside 

tea and vea: Not Impressed™

eist: probably gets pegged

filavandrel: luteless and landless

marilka: wants to be a witcher

valdo marx: did not die of apoplexy 

djinn: djinny djinn djinn

countess de stael: heartless

geralts sword: having a good time

vilgefortz: magicy stab stab

lil bleater: precious troublemaker baby

filavandrel’s lute: tossing coins to witchers

[daemoninfluff]

all them tags on ao3: no beta we die like Renfri

me: ,,,

me: no beta we die like Calanthe

me: autonomously

[ao3feed-geralt-jaskier]

by JaskierTheFlowerTwink

Young, fertile, unmated omegas, acquired through whatever means necessary, were now for sale to the highest bidder. Normally Geralt would stay out of such matters. They weren’t his business; the detestable decisions of men weren’t his concern. But this was different. The bits of Geralt that were still a man were disgusted by the thought, his alpha screamed in rage at the notion of the mistreatment, and the witcher could see nothing but monsters where men supposedly stood.

Words: 2999, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Underage

Categories: M/M

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

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

Additional Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Extreme Underage, Enthusiastic dubious consent, Blow Jobs, Rimming, Anal Fingering, It's Beta'd But We Still Die Like Calanthe, Hand Jobs, omega slavery, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse

[discopiratetanis]

The words you want to hear [geraskier week 2020 | Soulmates]

TITLE: The words you want to hear | Read on AO3

AUTHOR: ficsfordummies | TanisVs

PROMPT DAY #: 1. Soulmates

SUMMARY: “They will say those words to you, my dear. Your soulmark is what you most want someone to say to you. It represents how much your soulmate loves you and cares about you. That's why only you can see your soulmark until they say it, if anyone could see them, they could trick you into thinking it's your soulmate when it's not. They are words that must be born from the heart, do you understand?”

WORD COUNT: 4795

BOOKS/NETFLIX/2002 SHOW/VIDEO GAME: Mostly Netflix.

TRIGGERS/WARNINGS: N/A (Well, there are a lot of headcanons)

RATING: M for future chapters.

ADDITIONAL NOTES: Written for @geraskierweek​ No beta. So here we are! This is my little contribution to the lovely and beautiful Geraskier Week 2020 initiative. It will be my only work for it, a three-chapter fic with the first prompt (soulmates) topic as its core, I hope you like it ❤️❤️❤️

I don't care about your songs if you're dead

Jaskier had read those words over and over throughout his childhood. The phrase was written with rough thick strokes, as if someone had carved the letters into his tender and delicate skin of his left forearm when he was a baby. And the ink. The words were made of dense, deep black ink, but in the light of the fire, candles or the sun itself, it sparkled with gold and grey if Jaskier turned or moved his wrist, like the scales of an iridescent fish. 

“Those are all markers of your soulmate, Julian, it represents them,” His mother had told him when Jaskier had described the appearance of his soulmark when he was five.

“How will I know who my soulmate is, mother?” Jaskier had asked then.

His mother had smiled at him, softly.

“They will say those words to you, my dear. Your soulmark is what you most want someone to say to you. It represents how much your soulmate loves you and cares about you. That's why only you can see your soulmark until they say it, if anyone could see them, they could trick you into thinking it's your soulmate when it's not. They are words that must be born from the heart, do you understand?”

Jaskier had wrinkled his little nose at that time.

“Yes, mother,”

“And remember,” she had said too. “Soulmates are persons meant to be together, yes, but you can’t or should force a soulbond. If someone will be meant to be with you, you have to build a strong relationship,”

“I… understand,”

“You’ll meet a lot of people in the future, my dear, don’t worry about that now,”

“Yes, mother,”

And Jaskier had not worried much about the subject until he turned fourteen and his father began to pressure him to study more seriously. He was the son, the only son, of a viscount, and they might not be of the highest nobility, but the family had status and his parents expected Jaskier to be even more literate than many of the sons and daughters of the high nobility. For that reason, Jaskier went to Oxenfurt, and though he was too young to attend higher education classes, Jaskier took the opportunity to start to take the first step to find his soulmate. 

He knew that if his soulmark spoke about songs, then he must study something that would lead him to write poetry and music. So he chose the faculty of Trouvereship and Poetry, to his father's disgust and his mother's resignation. He studied there for three years, arduously, tirelessly, determined to be the best. And yes, he was the best of his class, and of his promotion in all faculties. His teachers told him that he would write peerless poetry, that his music would be remembered forever. He believed them. Jaskier graduated with honors, and hit the road with seventeen, still too young, too innocent and kind.

Then he came face to face with reality.

Outdoors of Oxenfurt nobody liked his music o his poetry, and far away from his family and their commodities, Jaskier suffered hardship. He went hungry, cold and sometimes he had to make dubious deals to avoid dying. Many times he thought about returning to the nobleman's life, but then he would roll up his left shirt sleeve, would look at the words, those crude but precious black words that sparkled with amber and gold under the light, would take a deep breath and would keep going.

For whoever that had to be his soulmate.

Then he met Geralt of Rivia, the infamous Butcher of Blaviken whose stories he had heard since he was a child, and decided that the witcher was the best inspiration he would probably find in his life. So he followed Geralt everywhere, without realizing he had taken the second step to find his soulmate. 

* * *

It had been half a year since they last saw each other. Jaskier had become more confident, but only because his new growing fame made him more secure and have more coins in his pouch. He had to thank Geralt, of course. People loved stories about witchers who, although they might seem like men of terrible behavior without morals and without principles, in the end had a heart, saved people and cared for the weak. Geralt had once told him that all that was stupid, but Jaskier had ignored him.

The truth didn’t lead to greatness.

“So, what if I invite you to ale in the next village tavern? You are going there, right? You could tell me about your latest adventures,”

“Hm,”

“Ah, yes, that one was very interesting and funny,”

Geralt was walking, guiding Roach by the bridle, with his heavy cloak waving softly behind him. Jaskier had one much more fancy and lighter that it didn’t hide his rapier and back-daggers at all, with his elven lute hanging from his shoulder. His pace was prideful, lordly.

“So, I heard of your affair with the striga in Temeria,” Jaskier said, much more serious, less cheerful, and looked at Geralt with curious. 

He had grown a few inches in the time that they hadn't seen each other, but Geralt was still much taller than him. Geralt said anything, not even a grunt, and the road remained silent, a silence only broken by the happy chirping of the spring birds. Jaskier saw the grim gesture Geralt made at the mention of the striga, and didn’t press. He walked beside him until they reached the town ahead.

Then, when the first villager noticed Geralt was a witcher, Jaskier went to the tavern alone.

It was the witcher’s life. He knew that.

“A selkiemore, uh?” Jaskier mumbled while writing in his journal.

The tavern was full of a crowd of townsfolk listening to the man who had contracted Geralt that morning. Jaskier had his belly full of warm food and a decent ale, so he felt with enough energy to try to write, or at least think, about his next great song. Toss a coin to your witcher it was good, very good, and people loved that song, but he didn’t want to become stagnant. He needed more successful songs. 

Songs. 

He slightly touched his left forearm, over the doublet sleeve. Then he remembered why he was there, in Cintra, and remembered the letter the chamberlain of Queen Calanthe had sent to him a month ago. It was a great honor to be the main bard in the court of such an important queen during her daughter's betrothal. But he knew that it was risky. Because in his obsessive spiral of finding his soulmate sooner rather than later, Jaskier had meddled in other people's marriages, even though they were not married to their true soulmates. And some of those people were nobles. And he knew that, at least, his beloved Countess of Stael was going to be in the ceremony. 

With her husband.

So he was fucked up.

A little.

Jaskier was thinking about that while he was writing the description of the monster according to the words of the fat farmer who had witnessed the fight between Geralt and the selkiemore. He smiled when the man said that Geralt was dead, because he didn't believe for a moment that the witcher was going to die in such an absurd way. So he laughed when Geralt entered the tavern, covered in blood, guts, and shit as if nothing had happened. It wasn’t the first time. He made the crowd sing Toss a coin to your witcher, knowing Geralt would groan, tired and disgusted. He collected a few coins. Geralt took a tankard of ale from a table and drank, spitting it half a second later. Jaskier snorted and leaned on the counter of the tavern.

Then he took a deep breath, and when Geralt approached him, he said:

“I need a favor,”

Geralt looked at him, silent, serious, and saw the apprehensive face Jaskier was making without realizing it. So the witcher tilted his head a little while viscous droplets of blood dripped to the floor.

“Tell me,” 

* * *

“Wow, what a night, right?”

Jaskier trotted behind Geralt, who was striding along the hallways as if the Destiny itself were to appear in the palace to grab him by the neck and force him to claim his Child of Surprise before he or she was even born.

“This is your fault,” Geralt snarled, ablaze with anger.

“What? My fault?” Jaskier protested, irritated and incredulous. “Excuse me, but I’m not the one who chose the Law of Surprise as payment here, you know,”

Geralt stopped dead suddenly, break-breathing, still furious, with a remarkable frown carved in his forehead. Jaskier sighed, facing him, his lute hanging from his shoulder like always, and didn’t flinch when Geralt glared at him with amber fire.

“If you hadn’t brought me here, I wouldn’t–” Geralt whispered, still wrathful.

Jaskier pressed his lips in a thin line, feeling a hot and unpleasant sensation in the pit of his stomach.

“Don’t you dare to blame me for what had you done, Geralt, you heard me?” Jaskier mumbled back, not with the same anger but with determination. Geralt huffed, looking away from him. “You could have asked for money, for lands, for anything other than that, but you preferred the Law of Surprise,”

“I know,” Geralt growled again.

Jaskier let out a deep breath, an exhausted and long sigh. They were in the middle of an empty and lonely corridor, with the rumor of the music at the party fluttering even there. Geralt sat on a nearby stone bench. Jaskier sat beside him, thinking.

“You knew it?” he asked after a minute in silence, with Geralt staring intensely at the floor.

The witcher shrugged a little before straightening and leaning on the wall with a grunt.

“Of course not,” he mumbled, calmer. “How could I have known it?”

He sounded resigned. Jaskier threw him a sympathetic glance and felt guilty anyway. He had been a little selfish because, of course, he could have defended himself against aggrieved husbands and wives, but… He wanted to go with Geralt to the party. Maybe it was really his fault. 

Maybe.

“Well, think about it,” he said. “If I hadn’t brought you with me, Calanthe would have killed that man, you saved a life tonight,"

"You would have done the same, I saw you fighting before,"

Jaskier parted lips, feeling his cheeks burning.

"Oh, yes, but I'm good at duels or like… two against one, even three against one, but an entire squad of soldiers? Thank you, but no," he saw Geralt smiling from the corner of his eye. Jaskier swallowed. "So as I was saying, you saved a life tonight, and saved Pavetta from soulrotting."

Soulrotting. He could recall when his mother had told him about that concept. He was eight at that time, and one of his mother's maids had lost her husband, her soulmate, in battle. Jaskier remembered that day. The scream of agony had heard everywhere in the Lettenhove fortress. 

"How do you know they are soulmates and not two simple lovers?" Geralt asked, slowly, looking at Jaskier.

Jaskier shrugged.

"I don't know for sure, but…" he hesitated, feeling his soulmark heavier than before. He touched his left sleeve and dragged his fingers a little over it. "If my mother would be about to kill my soulmate I would scream like that too,"

"That was magic,"

"You know what I mean," Then Jaskier looked at Geralt and met those golden eyes. Something inside him tingled. Geralt looked away a second later, with a grimace. Jaskier swallowed slightly, still caressing his sleeve. "You wouldn't do it?"

"Do what?"

"Defend your soulmate against everyone and everything?" 

There was a silence, a big and dense silence that Jaskier didn't understand and couldn't explain. He felt it heavy and… bitter. Geralt sighed, grunted. Again he sounded tired and resigned.

"I suppose, I don't know," Geralt murmured.

Jaskier blinked, confused.

"What do you mean you don't know?" he asked.

Another silence, thicker than before. Jaskier frowned, knowing that he shouldn't push him, but…

"Geralt?"

… but surprisingly, Geralt answered without snarling at him, his voice full of exhaustion.

"Witchers don't have soulmates, Jaskier, "

The third silence wasn't heavier than the previous two. It was strangely soft, although uncomfortable and somehow… painful, agonizing. Jaskier didn't know and knew at the same time why he felt as if someone had punched him in the guts, ripping all the air from his lungs. 

"Oh," he mumbled, and wet his lips, suddenly sad. "How do you… How do you know? You don't…?"

He knew it was a dumb question. But Geralt, again, answered with much more patient than Jaskier would expect.

"I don't have a soulmark, no. Witchers don't have words on his arms," Then Geralt got up, without looking at him. "Come on, let's get out of here,"

He started to walk, not so fast than before, towards the end of the corridor. Jaskier watched him for a second, still feeling… sad, and got up too to follow him. He sighed, clenching his left hand in a fist. 

* * *

Jaskier turned the rapier in his hand, elegant, keeping his balance. He stabbed the air and backed away, then he cut an imaginary opponent, spinning on his heels, chaining block, feint and attack movements again and again. When he stopped he was out of breath, sweating. Then he lowered his rapier and sheathed it with a loud sigh. 

Geralt, sitting against a tree near the edge of the clearing, discovered he was holding his breath until then. He thought, he noticed, he always noticed, how gorgeous, how stunning, was Jaskier when he trained, when he used his sword, when he was such concentrated and full of harsh and intense energy. It didn't have anything to do with the strength Jaskier detached when he sang or when he tricked someone with his silver-tongue. Geralt couldn't say what oh those attitudes he liked more.

"Geralt?" Jaskier's soft voice made him blink. He saw the bard smiling, cheeky. "See something you like?"

Geralt blinked again, watching him. Jaskier had his hair slightly wet, his forehead pearly with sweat, his cheeks rosy. He was on his too much tight trousers and on his shirt, only on his laced, cute and luxurious shirt that was mid-open, and Geralt could catch a glimpse of part of his pecs and, of course, his chest hair. He felt how his throat went dry in seconds, and looked away with a loud grunt.

Jaskier laughed and sat beside him, at his right against the tree. He had rolled up his sleeves so his left forearm brushed with Geralt's right arm. Geralt stared at the clearing, knowing that in that blank skin was a soulmark, the words that Jaskier wanted the most to hear from someone. 

Someone.

A claw gripped and tightened his heart and, somehow, his right forearm burned with an old and long lost memory.

* * *

Jaskier mumbled a curse, crossing out the last word he had written. Tiny drops of ink fell to the sheet, mottling the parchment of his not-yet-finished new song with a myriad of little black stars. He thought in silence with the feather under his chin. He lasted three seconds. Then he sighed and left the journal on the table, tired, upset. 

The tavern was empty except for the owner, Geralt and himself. It was early anyway, and neither of them expected to see anybody until noon.

The silence was weird. 

"What's wrong?" 

Jaskier looked up. Across the table, Geralt was watching him, with that frown that Jaskier knew meant the witcher was a little worried.

"Nothing," he mumbled, grabbing Geralt's tankard and taking a sip. When he saw Geralt arching an eyebrow, he groaned. "Nothing, really, don't worry," 

He took another sip, and that allowed the witcher to snatch the journal Jaskier had left on the table. He opened it on the last page. He made a grimace, confused at first, curious at second. Jaskier let out a new tired sigh and take a third sip of ale.

"I know," he said, sarcastically. "It's horrible, a complete disaster,"

"It's not," Geralt replied, absent.

"Geralt, I don't doubt that with age comes knowledge but I know you don't have any idea of music or poetry, so don't try to cheer me up with empty flattering,"

Geralt turned a page, ignoring him. The journal was full of lyrics, old and new, and sheet music, both finished and incomplete. Or at least that was what it looked like, Geralt wasn't sure. Jaskier was right, he didn't have any idea about music. But what he liked wasn't the music notes or the attempts and tests for rhymes. 

No. 

It was his handwriting.

It was fluid, thin, delicate. Like the course of a quiet but sometimes playful river. Its stroke was slightly bowed to the right because Jaskier was right-handed. There were words crossed out everywhere. Geralt thought it was pretty.

And that it was... familiar.

Familiar.

Suddenly he felt his inner right forearm itching, a not quite unpleasant sensation. Geralt rubbed that specific zone of his arm, above the sleeve of his shirt, and frowned, uncomfortable. Jaskier, locked in the ale tankard, didn't notice that. Geralt left the journal on the table with no words, and took a deep breath.

He knew where he had seen that type of handwriting before.

He knew very well.

* * *

"You can't come,"

"Don't be ridiculous, Geralt,"

"Oh, I am the one who is being ridiculous?"

Geralt secured the straps of his swords and checked out that he was wearing them tightly to his back. Beside him, Roach huffed a little uneasily, sniffing the air of tension between the witcher and the bard. Geralt searched in one of the mare's saddlebags and extracted a couple of bottles filled with a green and silver liquid. He put them in his pouch and turned around.

Jaskier was facing him, arms crossed, with a clearly indignant and annoyed frown. He had his rapier, his silver rapier, hanging on the left side of his hip, his daggers, his also silver daggers, on the right side. His lute was safe in their room, upstairs, inside the inn. Geralt thought Jaskier should be inside the inn too, safe, without wanting to go with him to do his job. Geralt huffed as Roach had done before, patted the mare on the neck and walked away past Jaskier, towards the location where the monster that he had to kill was supposed to be.

Jaskier followed him.

"You can't face an entire pack of drowners alone,"

"Ah, you know how to do my job better than me, it's that so, bard?" Geralt hissed. "Should I tell you how to write music now?"

He didn't want to sound mean. He didn't want to be mean. He knew Jaskier was worried, he could smell his fear. But...

"No, but I can help you, you know I can help you. At least with that type of monster. I have silver, and I am fast, faster than most of the men, you always say that,"

He always said that. It was true. Jaskier was a great warrior, and Geralt would trust him with his life, with his eyes closed. But not with that, not with monsters. Not with something that could rip off his flesh in a blink and eat him while he was still alive. 

He didn't want that. 

He couldn't live with that.

They were in the middle of the street, rain splashing furiously as if the gods were angry. There was water running everywhere, pouring from everywhere. The perfect scenery for a bunch of creatures that lived in the sewers.

"Come on, Geralt," Jaskier grabbed him by the arm, trying to stop him. Geralt didn't flinch and pushed the bard off, grunting. Jaskier groaned too, frustrated, and trotted until he surpassed the witcher and got in his way.

"Please, let me help you with this," Jaskier said. No, implored, begged, pleaded. Geralt caught the heavy and thick scent of fear, but it wasn't just fear. No. It was panic, pure and electric terror. Jaskier feared for him, but it wasn't the first time Geralt had to hunt monsters, leaving the bard behind. Geralt avoided Jaskier and he kept walking, faster. 

The rain raged and one lightning ignited the sky like a fierce and bright snake. Then, just then, Geralt felt again a hand grabbing his arm, and this time the witcher stopped.

The thunder rumbled violently and it was as if a dragon was roaring.

The clutch on his arm was strong. Geralt didn't look back, didn't look at Jaskier. He breathed in, deep, and sensed the fear more intense than before. Another lightning. Another thunder. Geralt tried to let go, but Jaskier tightened his hold. Geralt felt a growl being born in his chest. He could get rid of the grip easily, he was stronger, but he was also tired of those arguments. Jaskier should understand why he couldn't go with him. 

"Jaskier," he said, low, slowly. A warning.

"Geralt," Jaskier replied, arrogant, stubborn.

Geralt inhaled deeply for a third time, and noticed that fear was no longer the only smell there, under all the rain. But he couldn't recognize the new scent, not yet. It was bitter but also sweet. Geralt growled.

"You can't come, it's not negotiable,"

"Why?" More obstinacy. "It would not be the first time,"

 "Drowners aren't like bandits, or like a single monster I can make be focused on me," Geralt tightened his teeth, closed his eyes for a second, and then opened it still without facing Jaskier. "You could die," 

There was a two seconds silence, only broken by the violent storm. 

"So are you," Jaskier replied, and his voice was softer than before, weaker.

"It's my job, not yours"

And I don't want you to die, he should say, I want you to be safe here, where I could return to you later, he should say. He thought about the drowners, he thought about their claws and fangs, their viscous, horrendous skin and faces. He knew it wasn't the monster's fault, really, but… 

"Well, If we are talking about jobs–"

"Jaskier," Geralt growled, again, getting angry, angrier. He still didn't look back, at him.

"No, come on! If we are talking about jobs I have one, you know?"

"Jaskier, " The growl grew up.

"Remember? That one in which I sing and people throw me money?" Geralt stepped forward, only two steps. "You remember it, right?"

"You're wasting my time,"

"Because I have been neglecting my job only for you! Because you insist on not telling me anything of value for my songs, and–"

"Jaskier, "

"And! I thought, well, I understand, he is not good explaining shit, he doesn't want to talk, so if I watch how he fights and hunts monsters I suppose I can manage with that, but no! Also no! How do you want me to do my job, witcher?"

And then, the third lightning sparked in the sky, enormous, violent. And something in Jaskier voice made Geralt to burst. He faced the bard, finally, his amber eyes flaming with hurt fury.  

"Jaskier, I don't care about your songs if you're dead! Do you understand that or not?!"

The third thunder erupted immediately after and devoured the other sounds. It lasted at least four long seconds. Four long seconds in which they looked at each other under the dark rain with no words. Then, slowly, Jaskier loosened his grip. And Geralt noticed his expression. Jaskier looked down, frowning a little, his hands trembling, his lips pressed in a thin line. Geralt saw him swallowing, hard. A strong and powerful scent cracked around him.

But the bard said nothing.

So Geralt took that as an advantage and turned around to walk away. He didn't say anything either. He felt strangely tired, tensed. He didn't look back, he had a job to do.

 * * *

It took him four days to clean the sewers from drowners. Geralt emerged to the surface covered in green-black blood, murky water, and shit, so he seemed like one of the monsters he had killed down there, in the guts of the city. It wasn't the first time, and it wasn't the first time he had to come back to the inn covered in dirt like that.

When Geralt arrived into the room he shared with Jaskier, he found him leaning on the windowsill, reading something. At the sound of someone appearing, the bard looked up and turned around. He arched his eyebrows in surprise.

"Geralt!"

And in relief.

Jaskier moved toward the witcher with two steps and hugged him tight, exhaling a heavy breath and resting his forehead on his chest. Geralt went stiff, not because Jaskier was hugging him but–

"Jaskier, you are going to get dirt," Geralt sighed.

Jaskier squeezed him a little before releasing him and looked at Geralt with his bright and pretty blue eyes.

"I was worried," he mumbled. 

He had mud in his forehead, in his right cheek, and in the front of his fancy doublet. But he didn't seem angry. Geralt breathed in and caught the pale scent of flowers, ink, and wood that followed Jaskier everywhere, alongside something soft and sweet under all his own dirt. He grunted, weakly.

"Sorry, it took me longer than I would think, "

"Right, uh…"Jaskier hesitated, looking away, and headed to the door. "I will ask the innkeeper to prepare a bath for you,"

Geralt watched him go, knowing that their fight was not resolved. He sighed again, feeling exhausted, hungry. Then he glanced at the piece of parchment that was on the windowsill, forgotten, and he felt curiosity. It had been folded and unfolded many times, and it had a red wax seal that, when he examined it closely, he recognized it. 

It was the blazon of the Lettenhove. It was a letter. 

Geralt backed off and decided not to pry more. It was Jaskier's. And whether or not he wanted to tell him, it was none of his business.

He rubbed his right forearm unconsciously. That thought made him feel… more tired.

Gerald needed two rounds of hot water to get rid of all the shit he was covered with. With the third bath, he let himself get enough relaxed to lingering in the water doing nothing more than leaning against the edge and wall tub with his eyes closed. It was already night, so Jaskier had lit a few candles around the room. The bard hadn't talked much in that time except for two or three nervous jokes about the dirt water Geralt had been spraying everywhere when he was leaving his two previous baths.

Geralt knew Jaskier was ruminating something.

He didn't want to push him. 

But he also wanted… 

He opened his eyes, slowly, and saw that Jaskier was with his back turned to him. He counted five seconds, determined to talk about the discussion they had had four days ago, determined to be the one making the effort to fix things this time. He parted his lips, just about to say his name, to call him.

Then Jaskier turned around and faced Geralt, serious, but at the same time nervous. Geralt smelled something uncomfortable, something anxious and painful.

Something sad.

He shut his mouth.

Jaskier took a deep breath. He hadn't changed his clothing yet or cleaned his face. 

"Geralt, I…," he said, hesitating, licking his lips, avoiding his gaze. He exhaled, long, as if he didn't know how to say what he wanted to say. Then he bit his lower lip. Geralt stared at him, feeling on edge, vulnerable for the first time in a long time. "I want to ask you for something," Jaskier looked at Geralt, and Geralt nodded. 

Then Jaskier sighed one more long breath, biting his lips again, looking away, again, and crossed his arms, almost hugging himself as if he needed someone holding him, as If he needed a shield. 

"I…"

The bard frowned a little more, and Geralt saw that frown trembling. Jaskier clicked his tongue and, this time, locked eyes with the witcher. Geralt felt the intensity, determination, and… grief.

Grief.

He knew what Jaskier wanted to ask. He should have known in the first moment he had seen the letter with the Lettenhove emblem. He had no doubt.

"You want to hire me," Geralt said, low, soft, calm. "You want to make a contract,"

Jaskier parted his lips.

"Yes," he said.

And Geralt saw, saw, how just then Jaskier looked and walked away, out of the room, squeezing, clasping, his left forearm with tight and shaky fingers. 

[ffrecommendation]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Major Character Death, Underage Relationships: Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Eskel/Lambert (The Witcher), Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Lambert, Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Lambert, Eskel & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Vesemir, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Eskel, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Characters: Eskel (The Witcher), Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Lambert (The Witcher), Vesemir (The Witcher), Original Witcher Character(s), Coën (The Witcher), Roach (The Witcher) Additional Tags: Songfic, Soft Eskel (The Witcher), Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotionally Constipated Witchers (The Witcher), Canon-Typical Violence, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Period-Typical Homophobia, Kaer Morhen’s Fanon Hot Springs (The Witcher), Kaer Morons, Pre-Poly, Polyamory, Roach Has the Brain Cell (The Witcher), no beta we die like calanthe, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Torture, Body Horror, Vesemir as a flawed father figure, Child Abuse, Magical Eskel (The Witcher), Canon-Typical Racism, Childhood Trauma, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Insecure Eskel (The Witcher), Demisexual Lambert (The Witcher), Horse Girl Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, I Shook A Witcher And Intergenerational Trauma Fell Out (The Witcher), Mutual Pining, Background Relationships, Endgame Eskel/Geralt/Lambert, but at least for the first season it will be mostly geskel, Look it’s my first songfic and I’m not sure how it works but it’s my fic and I’ll do whatever I want, Song Lyrics, Slow Burn, with all the times I’ve rewritten this at this point I’m my own beta, Abandonment Issues, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, I’ll add tags as the story progresses, Character Study, First Time, I’ll write a better summary someday Summary:

“I’m Geralt by the way.” Seeing Geralt so calm and used to his life at the keep made him think that maybe, it wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“I’m Eskel.”

“Eskel.” Geralt smiled brightly. Eskel had never liked the sound of his name in somebody else’s mouth before.

[saturnsthirdeye]

Chapters: 6/6 Fandom: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, The Witcher (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion Characters: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion, Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Original Characters, Vesemir (The Witcher), Eskel (The Witcher), Lambert (The Witcher), Borch Three Jackdaws | Villentretenmerth, Renfri | Shrike (The Witcher), Triss Merigold, Ermion | Mousesack, Calanthe Fiona Riannon, Tissaia de Vries Additional Tags: Fae Jaskier | Dandelion, Fae Magic, Himbo Geralt, He has trouble putting two and two together, But that’s okay, Badass Jaskier, Magical Jaskier, Past Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Minor Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Endgame Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, no beta we die like men, Witcher Wolf Pack, Old Magic, Light Angst, Immortal Jaskier | Dandelion, Background Triss Merigold/Yennefer of Vengerberg, everyone is bi, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Summary:

”Jaskier is sitting cross-legged on the grass, his face partially illuminated by the warm glow of the flames. His baby blue doublet shines in the light, and his eyes, a match, seem to almost glow with reflection. His musicians fingers are holding... flowers? Geralt peers closer, and sees that the clever bard is making a little wreath of dandelions. He looks... ethereal.”

      Or: The one where Jaskier is fae, Geralt can’t connect the dots to save his life, and, with some help, the pair discover what it means to find your true family.

This fic has reached its end with the release of Chapter 6! Come check it out! :)

[mydarlingwitcher]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, The Witcher (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion Characters: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion, Calanthe Fiona Riannon, Eist Tuirseach, Ermion | Mousesack Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe, Jaskier | Dandelion Has a Past, First Meetings, The Law of Surprise (The Witcher), Jaskier is still a horny bard, How Do I Tag This, no beta we die like renfri, (looking stunning), Roach has the brain cell, Prince Jaskier | Dandelion Summary:

It’s too late to back away now. And thus Geralt doesn’t think and counters with “I claim the tradition as you have, the Law of Surprise. Give me that which you already have but do not know.” Queen Calanthe recoils, a shadow darkening his features. And Jaskier the bard steps forward with a murderous expression. “What! What in Melitele’s tits? Have you gone absolutely mad?!” He yells, fixing Geralt with an accusing stare that almost has him growling. “Julian!” Calanthe snaps, “Not now.”

or — what if Jaskier was Calanthe's estranged son?

[fireandpowder]

care keeps his watch by violaceum_vitellina_viridis

Chapters: 1/1, 7854 words

Fandom: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Characters: Coën (The Witcher), Jaskier | Dandelion, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Calanthe Fiona Riannon, Minor Original Characters - Character, Ermion | Mousesack

Additional Tags: Soft Jaskier | Dandelion, Competent Jaskier | Dandelion, Soft Coën (The Witcher), Friendship, Young Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Monster of the Week, Bruxae (The Witcher), BAMF Jaskier | Dandelion, Bros Before Bruxa, Background Relationships, Polyamory, Calanthe is Terrifying, Gift Giving, no beta we die like stregobor fucking should have, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ruthlessly Cherry-Picked Canon

Series: Part 14 of fire and powder

Summary:

Jaskier has a secret.

He still goes back to Cintra.

There's a monster in the Cintran court. Unluckily for it, there's also a Witcher and a tenacious bard.

[ao3feed-jily]

All These Things That I've Done

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3y26jY6

by Azar_Matutine

Halloween, 1981: Voldemort vanquished by Rupinder Potter, the Boy Who Lived. November 3rd, 1981: Harry Potter sent to Hesperus' International Academy of the Arts. January 21st, 1984: Duke Marvolo Slytherin enters High Society and is official recognized by the Magical State of Britannica and the Magical Roman Empire. November 26th, 1986: Harry Potter, age 9 comes out as a trans girl, guardian Marvolo Slytherin authorizes her name change to Chandra-Jaya Sappho Potter, James Potter approves appropriate surgeries, hormone therapy and medication. May 1st, 1993: Rupinder Potter, Boy Who Lived, requests Chandra-Jaya Potter's return from Hesperus' International Academy of the Arts

Words: 1304, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: Multi

Characters: Harry Potter, James Potter, Lily Evans Potter, Orignal Male Character - Rupinder Potter, Original Female Character - Calanthe Potter, Original Characters, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Albus Dumbledore, Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Narcissa Black Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy, Draco Malfoy, Bellatrix Black Lestrange

Relationships: Harry Potter & Original Character(s), Harry Potter & Tom Riddle, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black & Harry Potter, Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Black Malfoy, Harry Potter/Original Male Character(s), Astoria Greengrass/Original Female Character(s), Hermione Granger & Original Male Character(s), Ron Weasley & Original Male Character(s), Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Narcissa Black Malfoy & Original Female Character(s)

Additional Tags: Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags May Change, Tags Are Hard, Abusive Relationships, Unhealthy Relationships, Lily Evans Potter Bashing, James Potter Bashing, Albus Dumbledore Bashing, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Parent-Child Relationship, Possessive Tom Riddle, Tom Riddle | Voldemort Adopts Harry Potter, Tom Riddle is His Own Warning, Tom Riddle is Voldemort, Tom Riddle is a Sweetheart, Revolution, Wizarding Politics (Harry Potter), Wizarding Culture (Harry Potter), Wizarding Wars (Harry Potter), Wizarding Traditions (Harry Potter), Wizarding Royalty (Harry Potter), Royalty, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Wizarding History (Harry Potter), Trans Character, Trans Female Character, Trans Harry Potter, She is Whamen, Name Changes, Genderfluid Character, Harry Potter Changes His Name, Imperialism, Political Alliances, Selective Weasley Bashing, Culture, dumb author trying to research other cultures, World Travel, Travel, the author is hungry while describing food-beware, Not Beta Read, No beta we die like my dignity, tis only my failing 3/4 of a braincell, The British Peerage System, Roman Empire, Gay, it's pretty gay, Harry Potter was Raised by Other(s), Female Harry Potter, just being thorough with tags y'all, the wizarding world doesn't mind trans people, Gender Dysphoria, Body Dysphoria, body image issues, thiccc thighs save lives, chunky nose rights

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3y26jY6

[ao3feed-geralt-jaskier]

by ohnoesidontknow

Geralt is thrown in the Cintran dungeons on Pavetta’s wedding for claiming a baby princess as his child surprise.

Geralt thinks it’s shit luck.

Jaskier thinks it’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

aka the one in which Geralt marries into the Pankratz family and gets two fancy titles, three castles, an unlimited access to frankly amazing sex and a marble bathtub out of the deal (and also, maybe a family)

Words: 4360, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: Multi

Characters: Roach (The Witcher), Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion, Vesemir (The Witcher), Eskel (The Witcher), Lambert (The Witcher), Aiden (The Witcher), Jaskier | Dandelion's Mother, Jaskier | Dandelion's Father, Jaskier | Dandelion's Siblings, Calanthe Fiona Riannon, Eist Tuirseach, Pavetta (The Witcher), Duny (The Witcher), Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Dara (The Witcher), Ermion | Mousesack, Valdo Marx, Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Triss Merigold, Eyck of Denesle

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

Additional Tags: Canon Compliant, until, Episode: s01e04 Of Banquets Bastards and Burials, Fantasy Politics, Royalty, medieval/renaissance scholars forgive me, in my defence, in this universe dragons are an Actual Thing, Jaskier | Dandelion Has a Past, BAMF Jaskier | Dandelion, Found Family, (that trope never gets old), porn with lots of plot, Pining, (for like 30 chapters), Pampering, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Rimming, Bottom Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Top Jaskier | Dandelion, Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, Top Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, no beta we die like renrfi, they have the range

[ao3feed-geralt-jaskier]

by hazy_daisy

wherein everything is the same, except when it isn't.

 -

The bard darts around him to block his path. They’re not the least bit shy about their magical disposition, apparently. He wonders what kind of power gives someone that confidence. “Oh, don’t be like that, darling. What’s with the attitude? Normally, any witcher would love to get a piece of me.” They grin again, and Geralt thinks that the expression might’ve come with fangs, in some other time or place.

“Not this one.” Geralt steps around them and continues out the door.

“Aw.” Geralt doesn’t look back, but he can hear the pout in the bard’s voice. It’s almost playful. “Killjoy.”

Words: 4975, Chapters: 1/5, Language: English

Fandoms: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski, 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, Filavandrel aén Fidháil, Toruviel aep Sihiel, Torque (The Witcher), Essi Daven, Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Calanthe Fiona Riannon, Pavetta (The Witcher)

Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg

Additional Tags: Fae Jaskier | Dandelion, faerie jaskier!!!!, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, Canon Compliant, Feral Jaskier | Dandelion, jaskier says slut rights, marked teen for some upsetting visuals but honestly it could be g fkjghsdfj, Betaed, !!! we don't die!!!, They/Them Pronouns for Jaskier | Dandelion, they/them jaskier my beloved, use of the names jaskier AND dandelion!!!, Slow Burn, I think this counts, Hurt/Comfort, a little bit, use of the words fae and faerie p much interchangeably because the author likes both, fully written w/ weekly updates :), time is fake enjoy my resequencing of several major events, fae hospitality + fixation on apologies and gifts and names, details from both the books and the show ;3, ~30k

[ao3feed-geralt-jaskier]

by Anonymous

Jaskier gets last-minute tickets to 'The Hidden Continent' festival. Priscilla assumes it's a rave and not a Ren Faire, and dresses appropriately.

Words: 2879, 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: F/F, M/M

Characters: Priscilla (The Witcher), Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Triss Merigold

Relationships: Priscilla/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengeberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Triss Merigold/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Priscilla/Triss Merigold/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Festivals, Renaissance Faires, Pre-Poly, Threesome - F/F/F, Established Relationship, No Smut, (All smut is off-screen), Flash Fic, no beta we die like calanthe

[ao3feed-geralt-jaskier]

by TonytheWriter

“Just nod at me, I need to ask a few things.” He said while opening the shackles. “You’re Aiden, right?” The man tried his best to nod briskly, looking the wolf in the eyes. “Can you stand?” Obviously he could not.

Words: 1542, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: Gen, M/M

Characters: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Lambert (The Witcher), Aiden (The Witcher), Jaskier | Dandelion

Relationships: Aiden/Lambert (The Witcher), Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Lambert, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion

Additional Tags: can be read as platonic, but also romantic, Undertones of Geraskier, Because yes, aiden lives, But he's hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Physical Abuse, Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts, Hugs, Lambert Needs a Hug (The Witcher), Lambert gets a hug, So does Aiden, Aiden Needs a Hug, Geralt doesn't need one for once, Geralt is good bro, Geralt would die for his brother, Fuck Karadine, All my homies hates Karadine, Aiden adopted into the school of Wolves?, very open ending, Might Add More, who knows - Freeform, How do tag?, Protective Jaskier | Dandelion, Mentioned Priscilla (The Witcher), Novigrad (The Witcher), Velen (The Witcher), This zone is cursed for cat witchers, and in general, also, no beta we die like calanthe

[ao3feed-geralt-jaskier]

by alittlelark

“What is this?” Vesemir asked after he took a quick glance at their hostage. “Trouble” Eskel answered, sharply. Lambert bared his teeth. “We found this little shit at the club. He killed two of your boys and injured another two before we could even lay a finger on him. He fucking bit me” he said harshly, shaking the boy slightly “And the bastard keeps smiling like it’s fucking Disneyland and I’m Mickey fucking Mouse” Vesemir opened his mouth to answer, his face becoming increasingly concerned and angry with every word Lambert said, but the boy was quicker. “I was looking forward to meet you”

-- After some troubles at the club, Lambert and Eskel bring someone back with them. But maybe the lark they caught out of the nest is not lost at all.

Words: 4700, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

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

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Characters: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Eskel (The Witcher), Lambert (The Witcher), Jaskier | Dandelion, Vesemir (The Witcher), Valdo Marx (Mentioned)

Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Eskel & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Mob, Mob Boss Vesemir, Mob Boss Geralt, Hitman Jaskier, Pre-Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Older Siblings Eskel and Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Past Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Angry Lambert (The Witcher), isn't he always, Feral Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion Being a Feral Bastard, Guns, Assassin Jaskier | Dandelion, They are all criminals, Brothers In Crime, Bratty Jaskier | Dandelion, like basic jaskier, Vesemir is So Done (The Witcher), mention of drugs and human trafficking, someone really deserved to die, Jaskier | Dandelion is Called Julian, Blood and Injury, Non-Graphic Violence, Injured Jaskier | Dandelion, He is a little shit, Jaskier | Dandelion Being a Little Shit, Swearing, basic lambert, Beta Read, i don't want to die like calanthe