Lambert is one of those people who actually nice, but gods forbid anyone know it. He goes out of his way to be an absolute ar**hole to everyone, until he gets to know them better. Then he's still an ar**hole, just in a 'caring way'.

He just can't seem to drop the prickly exterior, even with people he likes. Not even with Jaskier. He actually likes Geralt's annoying Bard,

Of course he couldn't let them know he liked the Bard. That would ruin his image. It was hard though, especially after the first time he heard The Voice Crack.

Lambert spent many weeks taunting, teasing, bullying, and picking on Jaskier. But then he kind of stopped all that after Jaskier broke both his arms the following winter. Lambert felt kind of guilty about it since it had happened on his watch.

Of course, he pretended that he was only being nice to him because Geralt said he had to.

Lambert's prickliness got worse because he always seemed to make an a** of himself when he was around Jaskier. He blustered and bluffed, and snarked, but it always ended with his brothers laughing at him.

Like with the Love Bite.

And the whole Splinter Incident.

And Geralt laughing at him the first time Songbird made that stupid hand sign at him.

Lambert becomes even more of an ar**hole when he notices how protective Yennefer is of the Bard. The Witcher doesn't know why, but it annoys him that she seems so...close with Songbird.

One morning he starts in on Jaskier as he sat with Geralt and Aiden, waiting for Eskel and Coen to return from hunting. He starts out with his usual bullying, and Jaskier does his best to ignore it.

Then he starts making little comments insiuating that surely there must be something going on between Jaskier and the witch. Jaskier had glanced sharply at Geralt, and made a series of angry gestures. His eyes were oddly cold and hard.

Geralt made a few gestures back, then calmly sipped his ale. Lambert glowered. They were doing that thing again. It just p*ssed him off even more. He started insulting the witch, and Jaskier was practically vibrating with indignation.

Geralt just has this odd look in his eye, almost like he knows something, but he just hmms quietly and says nothing.

Jaskier made a smarta** comment because he just couldn't keep his mouth shut.

And before anyone could stop him, Lambert had hauled the surprised Bard across the table.

He should have known something was off when neither Geralt nor Aiden moved from the table to intervene. All Geralt said was "Lambert, you don't want to f**k with him. Just let it go."

Songbird can't fight, can't hunt, can't swing a sword...he's pretty much helpless. All he can do is sing and look pretty. What's he gonna do, Geralt? Stab me with a quill? Write a mean song about me?

"For starters, I won't give you any more Love Bites-!"

"Hah! Maybe I can get your precious sorceress to give me one instead!"

Geralt gave him one more cryptic warning "You really don't want to f**k with him. Especially about Yen,"

Lambert was to angry to care. He wasn't going to hurt him, just slap him around a bit and scare him a little.

Lambert started out with threats and insults, pushing him and slapping him about the head, getting a little more physically aggressive when Jaskier tried to joke his way out of the situation. He squeaked something about that d**n witch and what she was going to do if he hurt him.

Lambert let him know what he thought of his threat with a punch to the face, followed by a punch to the stomach. Then he let him know his opinion of the witch. Jaskier's eyes had gotten dark and he'd demanded that Lambert shut up.

Lambert had laughed, then boasted and bragged, and said a few things that he probably shouldn't have said with Geralt sitting a few feet away.

He could tell the little sh*t was feeling cocky because his Witcher was watching. He could tell by the way his eyes flashed and the way he'd started smiling at him. Lambert couldn't believe the audacity. The little b**tard was actually grinning at him!

Jaskier's voice was eerily low, almost a growl "Say one more word about Yen, and I will do worse than bury you, Lambert. I will write a song about you so savage that you will never be able to leave Kaer Morhen again!"

Lambert had seen red. He decided it was time Songbird learned his place. He snarled and shoved Jaskier to the floor. He kicked him once in the chest, held him down and growled all sorts of nonsense about the horrible things he was going to do to the witch while Jaskier watched.

Then Lambert made a very bad decision: he teabagged him.

Geralt and Aiden howled with laughter as Lambert suddenly started shrieking. There was no other word for the sound Lambert made when Jaskier bit him on the goolies, and didn't let go.

Lambert was still shrieking when Jaskier finally did let go, and there was a quick flash of steel before a line of searing fire replaced Jaskier's teeth, and then the Bard was knocking him flat to the ground.

There was suddenly a bloody knife at Lambert's throat, and Jaskier's face was inches from his, his mouth bloody and with too many teeth showing. There was an absolutely feral look in his eyes. It was like looking into the face of snarling wolf

Lambert didn't need to see the blood on the Bard's face to know the bite had broken the skin. And the blood on the knife...Lambert had a very unsettling mental image of his...boys...barely hanging on.

He was vaguely aware of Geralt and Aiden discussing something, but making no move to help him at all. The b**tards!

The Bard leaned down and snarled deep and ugly in his chest "You won't touch her! You won't talk to her! You won't so much as even look in her direction!

Lambert was stunned. That feral look had him frozen. And why the f**k did he have a knife??? Jaskier was a Bard. As far as they all knew, he didn't carry any kind of weapon, unless his lute counted as one. He supposed you could bludgeon someone to death with it in a pinch.

The trapped Witcher grabbed Jaskier's wrist and tried to twist it away, but stopped when that feral grin got wider and he felt the prick of a second knife in his ribs. How many of those d**n things did he have???

Lambert couldn't let Jaskier know he was scared caught off guard, so he bluster and spat "F**k that stupid witch, she's-!"

"Say something again! Say something again about Yen! Say something again, and see what happens!" Jaskier snarled, both knives pressing a little harder against skin.

Lambert didn't even dare swallow in case he accidnetally cut his own throat.

Jaskier.

A new voice sounded next to Lambert. Ah, Geralt had finally gotten off his a** and gotten reinforcements.

Yennefer had knelt right next to Jaskier, completely unafraid and gently touched his arm. "Julian, come away,"

Aiden *silently confused* Wait, his name's Julian??

Jaskier had blinked and wavered. Yennefer put her hand on his cheek, and turned his face towards her.

Julek...

Aiden *internally screaming* 'Julek'? F**k me, that's adorable!

Yennefer started playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, "Julek, look at me."

And like magic, the little sh*t went from feral b**tard to baby. The knives flicked out of sight and Jaskier's eyes turned soft again. He'd crawled off Lambert and leaned into the sorceress with a little "yEn..." letting her wipe the blood off his face, and check his bruises.

Ah, F**K! Not the Voice Crack! I should have let him cut my throat because now the witch is going to kill me!

Lambert's injury had definitely required stitches. Yennefer had healed him as best she could, but had mercilessly b*tched at him the whole time for cracking one of Songbird's ribs.

Geralt and Aiden made him promise not to tell Eskel or Coen about the Feral Bard Incident, and they promised to tell Eskel and Coen that Lambert was limping because he had injured himself in a training accident, instead of almost losing his balls to a Bard.

Wait, Geralt, did you f***ing know that he was going to go feral??

"As soon as you threatened Yennefer, Yes." And Geralt pulled off his shirt and showed Lambert the three knife scars on his upper body. "He gave me these by accident. Yen was sick. He was guarding her, and I startled him. "

Lambert looked at Aiden, who nodded. He agreed to keep the secret. And he'd been openly nicer to Jaskier from then on.

Part 5 of the series ‘Jaskier has unexpected talents (and it is probably not what you are thinking)’ Link to ao3

1. Fire on tumblr/ on ao3

2. Wood on tumblr / on ao3

3. Pancakes  on tumblr / on ao3

4. Nimble Fingers on tumblr / on ao3

5. Thread on ao3

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“That should be enough for the night,” Geralt said as he shouldered the door to the inn room open, holding an armful of firewood. 

“Thank you, dear,” Jaskier said but didn’t look up. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, in front of him on a wooden chair a small candle flickered light onto something he held in his hands.

“What are you doing?” Geralt asked. He dropped the wood next to the fireplace, put some of it in and shoved the coals with the poker till the flames started to lick at the new logs with satisfying pops. 

“Mending some clothes.”

Geralt turned to him and saw that the bard’s shoulders were slumped, his head bent down, focused on black cloth in his hand.

“Is that my shirt?” Geralt asked.

 “Hmm,” was all Jaskier replied. 

Geralt repeated the sound but sounded much more dissatisfied.

“You don’t have to do that.”

Jaskier sat up straight and looked up at him with a soft smile and said, “I know. But I want to.”

Looking closely at the black shirt the bard was holding Geralt noticed that it was the one he had worn two days ago as he fought the ekimma. The bastard had managed to rip open his armor and slice into his side. It had been a painful wound but nothing a witcher couldn’t handle. 

As Geralt stayed silent Jaskier resumed his needlework, humming a quiet tune.

“You’ll ruin your eyes,” Geralt said after a moment.

He wasn’t really sure why he was bickering with the bard. They were low on coin at the moment so mending his ripped clothes was the sensible thing to do. But until now he had always done it himself.

Seeing Jaskier holding his shirt with such care, squinting his eyes in the dim flickering candle light made him feel...an unidentified tingling feeling in his chest he did not want to investigate further. 

“I’m almost done anyway,” Jaskier said, not looking up this time, “and if you move a bit to the side, I have additional light from the fireplace.” 

Geralt scratched the back of his head and took a few steps aside before kneeling down. The unusual tranquility of the bard as he concentrated on his needlework was a good opportunity for Geralt to meditate. He sat back on his feet, hands laying loosely in his lap, he closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing. 

When he came back to the inn room with his conscious mind about an hour later and opened his eyes, Jaskier was still sitting on the bed, but now he was fully on it, his back to the wall and he was reading a book. The black shirt lay neatly folded next to him.

Jaskier looked up as he heard Geralt move and smiled.

“I’m finished with the shirt.”

The witcher walked over, picked it up and unfolded it slowly. He turned to the light of the fireplace, his back to Jaskier and stroked over the previously ripped spot with his thumb as his eyes widened in wonder. 

Jaskier hadn’t just mended the edges back together but he had covered the tear with an intricately embroidered floral pattern. He had used black thread, making it only really noticeable up close on the black shirt. 

“Jaskier, that’s…” he began, not sure what to say.

He heard shuffling from the bed as the bard got up and stood next to him.

“It was quite a large tear,” Jaskier said, “and I didn’t want it to look ugly.”

With furrowed brows Geralt echoed, “ugly?” as if it mattered how ugly the clothes of a mutant looked. 

Jaskier reached over and traced the pattern with his finger, the light pressure tingling Geralt’s hand that was holding the shirt. 

“Actually I was always better with embroidery than mending tears.”

Geralt swallowed, his throat suddenly dry.

“I didn’t know you could do embroidery.”

“Well, if it had been up to my father, I wouldn’t know how to embroider, but I bullied my cousin Flora and her governess into teaching me,” Jaskier chuckled, “at first Flora was jealous because I was better at it than her, but when I offered to secretly do her embroidery she was delighted. In the end she got all the praise…” He looked into the fire with a thoughtful expression and fond smile.

“Who would have thought that this skill would come in handy for a witcher?” he said after a moment, looking back at Geralt. 

The witcher looked back and couldn’t suppress a soft smile.

“Thank you,” he finally managed to say, “it looks rather...sturdy.”

Jaskier huffed and muttered “sturdy” under his breath, but he could see Geralt's smile and the way his thumb stroked the black flowers that from now on would adorne his side. 

----

Tag list:

@jaskierswolf @geraskier-trashh @hailhailsatan @panerato @marvagon @x-anxious @moonysourenza @kaktusbambus @wildonewrites @dapandapod @honeysuckletook @thecomfortofoldstorries @electricrituals @broken-verses @pheebs0612 @whenrainbowsend @mynameisdoofthelizardandamspooky

I am soooo sorry. This totally took me 2 months to get to. (This is my nightingale fic for reference but this is not set in the same verse)

Geraskier - 974 words

Warnings: Umm? None? Geralt gets turned into a kitten. It’s pretty tame.

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Jaskier wasn’t panicking. Why would he panic? There was no need to panic. Geralt had just gone to fight off some drowners; a contract he’d taken a dozen times since Jaskier had known him. Geralt could take down drowners in his sleep.

So why wasn’t he back yet?

The first night Jaskier had just assumed the drowner nest was further away than they’d been led to believe. The second night he’d stayed up until dawn when he’d passed out still seated at the table downstairs; still no Geralt. It was now the third night and Jaskier was… well he was maybe sort of panicking, but what could he do? He was just a bard.

He chewed his lip as he spotted his dagger lying on the dresser, sparkling in the light of the moon. He’d never used it, he could, but he didn’t. He’d been trained thoroughly as a young heir of Lettenhove, but he was a romantic, a musician, a poet… he didn’t want to fight.

But if Geralt was in danger then he couldn’t just sit here and mope. He had to help. He had to do something! He licked his lips as he swiped the dagger from the table, strapping the holster around his waist. He stormed out the inn under the cover of night, not caring about the odd looks he got from the innkeeper. He was off to find his witcher.

Here darling, have some suffering... as a treat.

(As always, I didn’t bother editing so if you see anything ridiculous, please let me know)

________________________________________________________________

Humming a melody, Jaskier was contemplating his next ballad. He had some good material from the last of Geralt’s hunts he had snuck along on a few weeks back, right before the two parted. Jaskier was feeling this one should be nothing short of epic, a wonderful, and maybe slightly annoying, surprise for his favorite witcher upon their next run-in.

Smiling while he tried to think of a good rhyme for “reckless”, Jaskier let his eyes roam over the village he was approaching. It seemed like a small settlement, but large enough to have an inn. He was in a fairly remote part of The Continent, but he was hopeful that his charm would serve him well, even if there weren’t an inn.

As Jaskier got closer to the village an odd sight made him lose his train of thought. In the middle of the main road going through the village it seemed that most of the residents had gathered round in a loose circle, and in the middle Jaskier could see two poles that looked to be made of metal sticking up. Perhaps it was some sort of festival or ritual in the area, thought Jaskier as he tried to get a better look.

When Jaskier finally got close enough to hear the villagers, he still couldn’t quite see what they were circling, but the snippets of conversation he heard weren’t particularly encouraging. Jaskier slowly waded through the crowd, concern growing as he heard the villager’s whispers, “monster” “it’ll be good to see it die” “it deserves to suffer”.

Finally, Jaskier was able to push through to the front of the crowd, getting to see what it was that had the villagers so excitable.

He let out a sharp gasp, his eyes widening in shock.

Before him was a man, his arms chained to the metal poles, stretched high above his head, his knees on the ground, his ankles chained to the bottom of the poles. His knees were bloodied, and the man was entirely bare, save for the chain he wore around his neck.

Well, more like a medallion, really.

A medallion in the shape of a wolf’s head.

Jaskier felt panic run through him as he realized he was staring at a witcher, just as broad and scar covered as his witcher, wearing the same medallion. The man’s head was bowed as he sagged in his chains but Jaskier knew that his eyes would be that same golden amber that frequented his dreams. The only difference between this unknown witcher and Geralt that Jaskier could see seemed to be their hair, this witcher’s hair a dark brown color so very different from Geralt’s white.

Warnings: Vaguely horny, implied weapon kink, dagger flirting, name calling, nothing explicit though. Pre-smut

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Jaskier was pouting. Geralt was trying to teach him how to fight, and he was fucking bored, not least because he’d already received the best education that Lettenhove could offer. He could handle a blade just fine, thank you very much. He just preferred not to get involved. He liked having Geralt there to protect him. He like being valuable enough that Geralt wanted to protect him. It gave him a warm fuzzy feeling and made him feel like he was on top of the world. He didn’t want to have to protect himself, and definitely not with something so ghastly as the blade in his hand.

“What?” Geralt growled, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

Jaskier threw the dagger from one hand to another. The weight felt alright, and he was certain that practically it was a fine blade, but it was ugly. Jaskier didn’t do ugly. “I’m not fighting with this.”

“It’s a dagger. It saves your life. Who cares what it looks like?” Geralt asked, his eyes not leaving the blade and Jaskier spun it nimbly in his fingers. He’d spent many hours of his youth learning the best tricks with his dagger, and later his sword. It had helped to build up the dexterity in his fingers and wrists that he needed for the lute, before he’d been allowed his first instrument.

Jaskier sighed dramatically and inspected the shining steel blade carefully. “I care. I’m a bard, Geralt. I should have a dagger to match my beauty.”

Geralt hummed and rolled his eyes. “Fine, but it’ll do for now. Let’s go.”

Jaskier flipped the dagger in his hand, tossing it into the air with a flick of his wrist before catching it again. He smirked and pointed it at his witcher, delighting in the gorgeous blush on Geralt’s cheeks. “Come on then, witcher, teach me what you know!”

They danced back and forward, exchanging blows. Jaskier laughed as Geralt growled in frustration, clearly not expecting any skill from his bard, but Jaskier was quick, not as quick as a witcher on potions but quick enough to dazzle his partner. It was enough to give him the upper hand for just a few moments before Geralt regained his composure. Jaskier cursed as Geralt began to take control of the fight, no longer afraid of hurting him.

(Updated 23/07/21) - Basically I’m probably going to write more of Jaskier/Dandelion being able to use a sword/dagger/bow.... So it’s getting it’s own post! 

Geraskier

Sword Dagger, Crossbow - A trilogy of sorts. (Dagger gets a bit spicy... so know that?)

18+ Dagger Sexy times, Tea stirring, 16 +Jaskier learns to fight, 18+ Jaskier ambushes Geralt in the woods, Thigh Daggers, Assassin!Jaskier, Feral Jask,

Gerlion

Dandelion buys Geralt a sword, Dagger,

Jaskilion 

18+ Sword fight with the bards

Related fics by other wonderful people!

18+ Finale of Jaskier’s dagger fic by @bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher

Geralt buys Jaskier a longbow  by @wherethewordsare