#And Geralt who is secretly desperate for a friend is like no

[teamfreehoodies]

I'm two days late with a fic prompt sorry lol but I could not get this idea out of my head so, if you're still up for it: what if Witcher AU where it's Yennefer who meets Renfri at Blaviken instead of Geralt <3 Love your fics

Oh my god this is so interesting?????? (Also thank you!!!! 💕)

Yennefer hasn’t been to the coast in years, and she wouldn’t be here under normal circumstances, but she was.... desperate. Rumor had it that there might be a djinn for sale in their market soon, which meant either someone had found one, or at the very least there was djinn activity in the area and someone felt justified that they could find one and for a dirty little place in the backwoods just off the coast it did seem to have something... off about it. She’d portaled to a field just outside the city, a place that should have been empty of magic entirely except for what she brought with her. And yet... something was different about this town. The air felt heavy with it, a stagnant weight hovering over the people, and as she approached the city’s gates it became more and more apparent that something was deeply wrong with this city. Where there should have been children playing games in the street there were only beggars, staring listlessly forward as they huddled against walls for warmth, a stark indicator of a bad fishing season in a town like this.

But there had been no pleas to the Brotherhood to take care of their ills, no appeal to the mages to find the fish, to feed the fishermen, to save the town. Yennefer had left court, but she still knows all the court mages and none of them had said anything of a town under famine. She kept moving, ignoring the damp dreariness that pulled at her heart. Maybe it wasn’t famine, and Blaviken simply had an unusually large amount of serfs with no fields to tend, and the heavy atmosphere was just caused by the concentrated misery of so many people packed so closely together.

She would get no answers on the street, so she ducked into the first tavern she saw, shaking off the strange heaviness of emotion from staring at the misery in the streets of this thrice-cursed backwater. The tavern at least was decent enough, a good crowd for this time of day, early as it still was. She wound her way to the bar, aiming for a beer and a chance to collect her thoughts. She might find someone in here who could tell her of the fishing spots suddenly gone bare— that might be a good indication of djinn activity actually, now that she thought about it.

The bartender slid her a cup and filled it before turning away with a grunt as he picked up the coin she left on the table. The beer was cold, but that was were the positives ended. “What the fuck,” she muttered spitting the ale back into its cup— she’d tasted piss-water more palatable than this swill.

“It’s an acquired taste but I promise, it’s not poison.” Yennefer looked down the bar, tracking down the owner of the offered opinion. Oh, but she was gorgeous, her hair an asymmetrical mess framing her rounded cheeks, lashes long enough to make the brown of her eyes look bottomless, her mouth curled with just the right amount of attitude as she smirked at Yennefer.

“I’d almost prefer it it was poison” Yennefer replied, sliding closer down the bar and dragging the piss-water with her. “At least then the taste would have an explanation.” The woman laughed, cracking more peanuts from the bar, and popping them into her open mouth. She smiled at Yennefer, leaning back in her seat as she made a short gesture at the barkeep.

“You’ve a lot of experience with poisons then?” She asked, turning to face Yennefer fully.

“Enough to never accept a drink I didn’t order myself,” Yennefer countered, smirking as the barkeep plunked two wine cups in front of them.

“Well that’s a shame then, isn’t it.” The woman said, reaching across Yennefer to drag the cup away before the barkeep could pour anything into it.

Yennefer caught her hand against the bottom rim of the cup, feeling the warmth of her rough hands (and gods she wanted those hands against her skin so suddenly she was surprised by the force of her desire.) “it’s only a shame if we let it be.” she purred, rubbing her thumb along the index finger of the woman’s hand still trapped beneath her own.

The barkeep cleared his throat, breaking them apart as he gestured impatiently with the wine bottle. “Am I pouring this or not,” he said “I’ve got other customers, y’know.”

The woman giggled, than guffawed, a hearty laugh that was more wild and free than any woman Yennefer had ever known— instantly, she was hooked. Yennefer wanted more of that laugh, wanted some of that wild freedom for herself.

“There’s better drinks at my place,” Yennefer said aching to reach back out and touch, needing the heat of the other woman’s skin to balance against the chill of her own.

“Are you seducing me?” the woman asked, smirking slyly at Yennefer from behind her fringe of hair.

“Only if you’re interested in being seduced,” Yennefer leaned in closer, not touching, just letting her proximity work for her. They were facing each other still and as Yennefer leaned in the woman did too, almost imperceptibly, until Yennefer stopped, just close enough that their conversation was a touch too intimate for public (but oh, that had never bothered Yennefer one little bit, and in fact it added to the heat in her belly, the tension between her thighs that demanded release.) “Is it working?” she whispered finally, her breath just ghosting over the other woman’s lips.

(Fuck off,” muttered the barkeep as he plunked the wine down on the counter and stalked towards his other customers. He had things to do other than staring at flirting lesbians.)

“Why don’t we go get that wine.” The woman whispered, sending shivers down Yennefer’s spine. Delicious anticipation was thrumming through her veins and it made her sloppy, so she almost missed the knife as it hurtled up to rest beneath her chin.

“I’m not really into knifeplay as a rule,” she said, one hand against the woman’s where it was trying to push a blade into her throat, the other pressed into the base of the woman’s neck, her thumb just above the dip in her clavicle.

“Yeah well, you can tell that to Stregobor when he joins you in hell then can’t you.” The woman said, nonsensically, as they both strained against the other’s grip.

“Stregobor?” Yennefer repeated, mind trying desperately to connect the pieces.

“He sent you to kill me before I could kill him, why else would a mage be in Blaviken?” The woman scoffed and Yennefer realized that the reason no one had intervened was because the entire tavern was being held hostage by men in line with this woman, a collection of dwarves and halflings with swords and crossbows, the sorriest looking army that Yennefer had ever seen. Yennefer’s grip slipped and the knife slid another centimeter closer to her throat and all of a sudden she understood what was wrong about this damn town.

“Cock.” She said, staring into the eyes of the last girl born under the Black Sun, Renfri, Princess of Creyden, sworn hunter of Stregobor the Mage and something of a local legend amongst Yennefer’s circle of influence, precisely for her vendetta against the man. They all hated Stregobor, and he’d been officially censured for his slaughter of the girls of the Black Sun prophecy, and prophecy work had been falling out of fashion ever since— not that that knowledge did her any good, a knife to her throat and a furious shrike holding it.

“I’m not here on business of Stegobor’s,” Yennefer offered, pulling on Chaos just enough to give her a fighting chance. She pushed the hand with the knife against her throat sharply upwards, a fast enough strike that it stunned Renfri, knocking the weapon from her hand though not for long as she was already reaching for a new one— but Yennefer had space, had time—had purpose, and that was all a mage really needed.

“I bet you want him dead, right?” She said, holding up her hands to ward off Renfri’s continued advances (and also to make portalling away faster if need be. Renfri paused, cocking her head at Yennefer. Emboldened she went on, “I don’t have any particular feelings about the man, but I bet even you can’t hope to succeed against him alone.” Renfri, according to legend, wasn’t the sort of shrike that waited. To find her in a tavern in Blaviken meant Stregobor must be close, and must be hiding if he hadn’t yet been killed. “Ahh, that’s it isn’t is,” she said, as Renfri slowly let her go, flipping the knife in a devastatingly hot) show of skill before she sipped it back in to the sheath on her thigh. Oh, if this worked out the way Yennefer wanted it to, they were going to have a fucking amazing time together. “You can’t get to him. What has he locked himself into a tower somewhere? Magicked up some guard dogs I imagine?” She took her seat, reaching for the bottle of wine the barkeep must have left for them, pouring equal measures into the two cups. 

Renfri must have made some motion behind Yennefer’s back (it wasn’t much of a gamble to turn her back on this opponent, sure as Yennefer was of her purpose here, but enough of one that a little shiver of pleasure ran up her spine at the implied danger) because the dwarves and halflings were putting down weapons, retreating to the table they’d been occupying before they took the tavern hostage. There was some grumbling from the patronage, but violence seemed to be the language of these people, so it settled quickly, just in time for Renfri to take her seat again, reaching forward to grab the wine that Yennefer had poured for her. “He’s locked himself in his tower,” she said, taking a sip of the wine and letting her knee bump into Yennefer’s thigh beneath the bartop. “Can’t get him out to face me in a fair fight, which he knows he’d lose.” Now that Yennefer is paying attention she can feel the slight disturbance in Chaos as it bends away from Renfri, refusing to touch. Interesting. “So tomorrow me and my men are going to murder every single person in the market until he crawls down from his ivory tower and faces his destiny at the end of my sword.” She’s puffed up already, like she expects Yennefer to object to this plan. The massive planned loss of life bothers Yennefer on a surface level surely, as unnecessary as it is. There are easier ways to pull Stregobor from his hiding place-- more elegant too.

“What if I told you that I could pull him out of that tower without having to sacrifice the townspeople of Blaviken?” 

“I’d ask you for what price. I know mages and witchers are alike in that they only work for coin or power.”  

Yennefer smiled, taking a long draught of the wine and then slamming the empty cup back on the bartop. “I want everything, little shrike. But this?” she said, spreading her arms wide, “this I’ll do just because Stregobor deserved more than a slap on the wrist for his actions and I can think of no more fitting end than to watch you butcher him in the streets of Blaviken.” 

[the-iceni-bitch]

A Surprise to be Sure

Pairing: Geralt/Fem!Reader

Words: 5761

Summary:  You meet Geralt and Jaskier on the road and have a lovely little adventure in the kingdom of Temeria.

Warnings: Explicit language, explicit sexual content, explicit descriptions of violence, TW mentions of rape, SMUT, 18+

A/N: It’s here y’all, my b-day Geralt fic! I’m really happy with how this turned out and could honestly have published it without the smut, that’s how much I love this fic. It is definitely going to be part of a series so I hope you all enjoy! (PS I love writing Jaskier way too much and could honestly just do a full series of him having random misadventures all over the continent!) I’m tagging @navybrat817​ because I know she loves some Henry Cavill

Jaskier had been belting the Fishmonger’s Daughter for the past 30 minutes, and Geralt was ready to murder him.

“Must you insist on shouting our position to every living creature in a 5 mile radius?” He hissed at the bard.

“List, my grumpy, hoar-headed friend. I need to be sure my voice is in top form if I’m performing at a royal ball. Now, you’ll feel better if you sing with me, Oooh Fishmonger, Oh Fishmonger, Come Quell your Daughter’s Hunger!”

“I’m going to feed you that damn lute before we reach the castle if you don’t shut up. I can’t listen to this for three days.” The Witcher growled under his breath. He couldn’t figure out why he had agreed to accompany the irritating man on his journey, but the man always managed to convince him to go along with his stupid plans.  

“Now, Geralt. You know you secretly love my singing. After all, how many jobs has that little song of mine rustled up for you, eh? Stop being so grouchy.”

He gave him a grunt. “Fine, can you at least sing something else?”

“Ah, but of course, my large, angry friend. Eh hem, You think you’re safe, without a care…”

“Gods, not that one.”

“Well, there’s no pleasing you is there. Ahh, what’s that noise?”

A feminine shriek split the air, causing a flock of birds to take flight only a few feet from the pair of riders. Roach of course didn’t mind, but Jaskier’s mount almost threw him, causing Geralt to smile.

“Gods, see, this is why I hate travelling on these creatures. Give me a nice coach ride any time. Come Geralt, let us see what fair maiden is in need of our assistance.”

“Our assistance?”

“Well, your assistance. C’mon Geralt, a damsel in distress, this is the perfect material for a new song.”

Geralt followed the idiot as he rode towards the sounds of distress, determined to keep him from getting himself killed. He didn’t really like getting involved in petty issues of the realms but knew that Jaskier lived for these tiny adventures.

They came upon you, surrounded by five men in soiled armor. Your cart had a broken wheel and was sinking into the snow and mud. One of the men had you pinned in the back of the cart by your neck as he buried his other hand in your skirts. The other men jeered at you as they kept their watch.

“Look Geralt, a fair maid waiting to be rescued, what could make for a better song? Ho there fellows, stop your raping or you’ll have to deal with my cantankerous companion here.”

“Move along, bard this doesn’t concern you.” One of the soldiers growled at Jaskier before spitting to the side. “Or, wait your turn and we’ll let you and your pal have her when we’re done.”

“Ah, Geralt, I’ll let you take care of them. Make sure to draw it out, a long fight always makes for a better song.”

“Oh, fuck this.” You hissed, pulling out the stiletto you had hidden in your skirts and gutting the man who was restraining you.

Jaskier turned his head and vomited as the man’s intestines seeped out of him and he crumbled to the forest floor. You flung your cloak off your shoulders as you drew the obscenely large longsword you had concealed beneath its folds and chopped off the hand of the next soldier who came charging at you before plunging it into his chest.

“I don’t know, bard. Seems like the maid has things under control.” Geralt grinned at his companion once he had finished emptying his stomach.

You wrenched the blade free as the two unhorsed soldiers rushed you. One of them tossed his own dagger at you and you used your sword to whip it back at him, catching him in the throat. You brought up your dagger and crossed the blades you were holding to catch the sword of your fourth opponent. You managed to loop the dagger under his hilt and wrenched the sword from his grasp as you let the momentum from his attack carry you the two of you backwards, flipping him over your head until you were straddling his chest. You gave him a small smirk as your drove your dagger through his eye.

“Shouldn’t we be doing something?” Jaskier asked as he watched the bloody show with abject horror painted on his face.

“What would you suggest bard? The woman seems to be able to handle herself, and I can’t say these soldiers seem particularly deserving of assistance.”

The final soldier had dismounted and was now striding towards you, twirling his sword around like an idiot peacock. You scowled at him before pulling a massive crossbow from beneath the packages in your cart and shooting him in the shoulder.

He went down with a soft grunt and you strutted over to him, crossbow slung over your shoulder and dagger twirling through your fingers. You tutted at him like you were chiding a naughty schoolboy.

“Oh, Abbett, what did you do with the money? I certainly hope you have it on you. I don’t feel like trekking through this frozen forest digging for it.”

“You cunt.” The man spat at you. “We fought those bloody Nilfgaardians to keep these farmers safe and warm. The least they can do to thank us is give up a few bloody coins and their daughters.”

You shot him again in the leg and he let out a scream.

“One more time, Abbett, the money? I can’t give those poor girls their maidenhoods again but maybe their families can offer a dowry to make them good matches.”

“Argh, bitch! It’s in the saddlebags.”

“Excellent! See, not so fucking difficult, and you saved me the nasty task of gelding you!” You took a few steps forward and shot him through the eye as you went to examine the horse and find the stolen coins.

“Ahem, hello, madam! I am Jaskier the Bard and this is my companion, Geralt of Rivia! Would you join us on our journey to the capital of Temeria? You seem like a lass with stories to tell and I’m just the fellow to put them to song.”

“Jaskier, shut the fuck up.” Geralt hissed at him.

You whipped around to the two of them and pointed your crossbow at the Witcher. “Fuck, I almost forgot about you two. Well, you’ve given me a bit of a conundrum boys. I was counting on there not being any witnesses here. These vagabonds are still wearing the king’s colors after all, and we’re close enough to the capital that that could prove to be a problem for me.” You had started to unfasten the bodice of the gown you were wearing, desperate to get out of the confining layers of cloth that had comprised your disguise. You revealed an outfit of bleached leather and furs that clung to your body.

“Oops.” Jaskier murmured, giving Geralt a sheepish grin as he raised his hands in supplication. “Geralt, friend, maybe you can talk to our new companion.”

“Right, listen, we don’t care that you just slaughtered five of the king’s soldiers, though I’m sure upon closer inspection they’ll be shown to be deserters. And as we have no desire to bring any trouble down on you, we’ll just be on our way.”

“Wait,” You called after them, tossing the rags of your gown onto the abandoned cart as you saddled your horse. “If you’re heading towards the capital, I’ll join you. I have some deliveries to make before I get out of this god-forsaken country, and that way I can keep an eye on you.” You gave them a grin as you rode up the hill to join them. “I can think of worse company than a bard and a Witcher.”

Jaskier shot a grin back at you as you joined them. “Ah, finally someone who will appreciate my talents. Tell me�� um..”

“Y/N”

“Y/N, lovely, do you have any requests?”

Geralt groaned internally at the thought of being stuck with two singing idiots for the journey but was cut short by the sound of multiple bows being drawn.

“Fuck.”

“That’s far enough you three.” A captain in shining armor commanded as you came into view of a mounted regiment of king’s soldiers, accompanied by about 100 footmen who all had arrows trained on you. “What do you know about several groups of dead king’s men that have been found in these woods.”

Geralt shot you a look of reproach over his shoulder as you pointedly avoided making eye contact, examining your fingernails like they were the most interesting thing on the continent.

“There’s another group of dead soldiers in the clearing back there, captain. Looks like we’ve found our culprits.”

“Oh, just wait a minute. My grouchy friend and I were just passing through when we came upon this lovely woman being set upon by these supposed kingsmen. Granted, we considered dispatching them ourselves but our fair companion had things well in hand. Seems like she was doing your jobs for you.”

You and Geralt shared a groan. “Shut up, Jaskier.”

The captain gave a snort of derision. “You want us to believe this pretty thing has been besting the king’s chosen troops on her own for months? Take their weapons and restrain the Witcher and the woman. The bard can sing us some songs to pass the time as we travel. We’ll save this for the king to sort out.”

You gave a heavy sigh and started handing over your blades. Jaskier’s eyes started to bulge as you continued pulling smaller and smaller knives out of an increasingly absurd number of hiding places, until there was an impressive pile in front of the soldier who had been tasked with collecting your weapons.

Geralt was less forthcoming in turning over his weapons and didn’t really start until a spear prodded him in the back. He was gazing at Renfri’s blade when the captain lost his patience, and the butt of the spear whipped across the back of his head, knocking him cold.

“Put his blades with the rest of it.”

Geralt woke up with his face buried in your hair and let out a groan at the throbbing in his skull.

“What the fuck?” He lifted his head, squinting against the sun reflecting off the new fallen snow.

“Good morning, Witcher. Apparently this type of restraint has been proven to limit the ability of the restrained to extricate themselves from their bindings. You missed a fascinating lecture on it as they were tying us up.”

The two of you were bound face to face on the saddle of your massive black courser. Your arms and legs tangled around each other and wrapped in an intricate series of knots. He started trying to wrench himself free, but only succeeded in bringing you even closer to him as he let out a grunt of frustration.

“Look at the two of you, so cozy.” Jaskier rode up with a grin on his face, strumming his lute. “Do not worry yourselves, my violent friends. I am currently working on a plan to extricate the two of you from this predicament. I have the ear of the captain.”

“Are you going to annoy him to death Jaskier? Maybe if you sing that damn abortion song enough times, he’ll release us just to be rid of you.”

“You wound me, Geralt. The name of that tune is “You Think You’re Safe” and you’ll be happy to know that the captain is enamored of my talents and has asked me to regale him and his officers at their meal tonight.”

“Ah, good for you Jaskier. Make sure to sing the ‘Fishmonger’s Daughter’ I hear that’s a favorite of the troops.” You smiled at him, throwing him a wink.

“Oh, I knew I liked you, Y/N! See Geralt, it isn’t so hard to appreciate what I bring to the table. Thank you for your advice, sweet lady, I will be sure to take heed!” He rode off, humming to himself as he tuned his lute.

“Why would you encourage him?” Geralt growled in your ear, still fighting against his bonds.

“Ah, Witcher, you need to relax. I’m sure Jaskier’s plan will work out just fine.”

“The bard is an imbecile, the day I trust myself to any plan of his is the day I resign myself to a slow and painful death.”

“Well, be that as it may, if you don’t stop struggling, we’re going to end up in a very uncomfortable situation.” You said, giving a gasp as another jerk of your bonds brought you indecently close.

“Fuck.” He let out in a hiss, resigning himself to waiting for a better opportunity as a lock of your hair blew into his face, smelling of pine and turned earth “I don’t suppose you have any sort of plan of escape, since it’s your fault we’re in this situation.”

“Geralt, I do apologize that you have ended up in my mess. I’m so sorry that the war with Nilfgaard has caused unprecedented levels of desertion, and that the cowards that have runoff have been terrorizing and robbing the smallfolk. And I’m sorry that the king failed to listen to the pleas of his people, who had to pool together the last of their coin to contract me to come in and relieve them of their problems. But yes, this mess is entirely of my own making, and nothing to do with the colossal mismanagement of the realm of Temeria.”

“Hmmph.” He grunted into your hair. “So how are you getting us out of this mess?”

You gave him a snort. “Don’t worry that pretty head of yours Witcher, something will work out.”

“Alright, dismount.” One of the lieutenants ordered, leering at the two of you. “Hope you two have enjoyed today’s ride. I hear they’re already constructing a gibbet for you in Vizima.”

“I see the royal council has decided to do away with even the minimal farce of a trial then.”

Two soldiers had started to undo the maze of knots binding you and the Witcher together and you gave a hiss as blood started to flow back into your legs.

“An attack on the king’s army is an attack on the king. No trials for traitors to the crown.”

“You do know that neither of us are citizens of this kingdom?” Geralt asked him. “You can’t betray a monarch you don’t serve.”

“Pssh, a minor inconsistency. The king can’t be seen as soft during wartime.”

“Oh, of course not.” You murmured as the soldiers dragged you off your mount and led you to the prisoners’ tent that had been erected next to the officers’. The same intricate raveling of ropes and knots started again as they bound your upper bodies to the poles in the center of the tent. You could hear the beginnings of revelry in the officers’ pavilion when they left you.

“Well, now what?” Geralt asked you, pulling against the bonds at his wrists.

“Just, have a little patience.” You chided him, leaning against your pole in as relaxed of a pose as you could achieve.

“You did hear that they plan on executing us once they get us back to the capital?”

“No, Geralt, I missed that.” You spat at him as you heard Jaskier start to sing and gave a small smile. “Excellent, let’s hope he leaves the good stuff until they’re well and drunk.”

“What are you talking about, Y/N?” He asked you, still trying to wrench himself free.

“For fucks’ sake, give it a rest. Apparently the royal knot tyers are the only members of this army who haven’t fallen lax in their duties.” You rolled your eyes at him. “Just give it a half hour and we’ll give you a chance to get out all the pent up aggression.”

“So you do have a plan? Any chance you want to let me in on it?”

“I think I’ll leave it for a surprise.”

The two of you sat there listening as the sounds of drunken celebration filled the camp. It only took 20 minutes for the revelry to reach a dull roar, and a smile crept over your face when you heard the first refrains of ‘The Fishmonger’s Daughter’.

“Ah, Jaskier, perfect timing.” You muttered.

The song started speeding up and spread through the regiment. You heard the soldiers start clapping along and seized your moment, bending your legs and driving your back into the post you were bound to at each clap, starting to shift it out of the ground with each drive of your shoulders.

Geralt finally seized on your idea and joined you in wrenching his post out of the ground. Within a few rounds of the song, they were loosened enough for you to drag them out of their anchors, causing the tent to collapse around you. You slipped your bonds over the ends of the posts and unraveled yourselves. Geralt gave you a look of appreciation as you hefted your post, flung the folds of the fallen tent off yourself and whipped the post around to take out the two guards that had been posted at the entrance.

“Well, let’s find our weapons, shall we?” You said, giving him a grin.

Apparently, your appraisal of the army had been accurate; you ran into minimal resistance as you made your way to the weapons tent and managed to knock out the only sentries you encountered before Geralt had a chance to react.

“Ah, my babies.” You said to yourself as you started resheathing the ridiculous number of knives you had accumulated for yourself, kissing each blade before you returned it to its rightful place.

“How can you possibly be comfortable wearing all of that steel?” Geralt asked you around a grin, watching you tuck a dirk between your breasts and wondering how you managed to not cut yourself.

“I’m a woman traveling the continent alone, Witcher. I’ve found that the element of surprise is my friend, and there’s nothing quite as surprising as an unexpected knife between the ribs.”

He actually laughed at that, strapping one sword to his back and one to his hip as you hefted your crossbow and loaded it with a bolt before heading back out into the snow.

You were met by the surprised faces of a drunken group of soldiers who were wending their way through the tents, arms around each other as the slurred the lyrics to their favorite song. You shot the first through the chest as you drew your longsword over your shoulder and you dropped your crossbow to the ground, slashing the second across the face before they finally regained their composure and sounded the alarm.

Geralt drew his blades and clashed with three of the remaining soldiers as you grappled with the other two. He managed to drive his long sword through one of their chests before the other two had a chance to converge on him and he struggled to drive them apart with his fists to allow himself room to maneuver. One of his opponents went down suddenly with a dagger through his throat and Geralt threw a look your way to see your first opponent down and missing an eye as you drove your knee into the chest of your second opponent, driving him into a post as you brought your sword around and ran it across his throat.

Geralt threw his assailant over his shoulder and rammed his blade through his chest as you let out a shrill whistle and hefted your crossbow as the sound of hoofbeats rose through the camp. Roach and your courser came charging around the bend suddenly and you latched onto your steed’s mane and swung yourself onto his back as Geralt vaulted onto Roach’s. You turned suddenly and led him back towards the officers’ pavilion as drunken soldiers did their best to pursue you.

“We almost forgot the fucking bard!” You grinned at him as you hopped off your horse and slashed through the back of the officers’ tent. You emerged seconds later with a terrified looking Jaskier, who you tossed over the back of your mount like a sack of potatoes before leaping up behind him and kicking your steed to a gallop.

“Either of you want to fill me in on what the fuck is happening?!” Jaskier shrieked as he bounced around.

The two of you ignored him as you rode on. You set a punishing pace through the whole night, not looking back until you crossed the river into the kingdom of Redania as the sun rose and you finally allowed your horses to slow their pace to a walk, dismounting to give them a rest.

“If my lute is damaged, I’ll never forgive you.” Jaskier whined as he inspected his instrument, hobbling along as he tried to adjust after the unceremonious thrashing he had taken during the ride.

“Jaskier, a little thanks should be in order. Y/N and I did save you from a rather nasty execution after all.” Geralt grinned at him as he walked beside you, Roach nuzzling him in the shoulder as he patted her snout.

“I told the two of you, I had the captain’s ear, I would have been able to talk us out of any trouble.”

You gave him a snort as your courser butted his head into yours, begging for his own pats. “Jaskier, you would have been strung up right beside us. Just think though, this little adventure has the makings of a great song, eh? I’ll buy you a nice hot meal and a bath at the inn we’re coming up on.”

“Well, I’d never say no to a bath. How close is this inn?”

“Just over the next hill.”

You arrived within an hour and made arrangements for the horses as Jaskier headed in to arrange rooms and meals for the three of you.

Geralt and you headed into the inn and you grabbed the two of you the largest mugs of beer you could arrange before joining Jaskier at a table and tearing into the trencher of bread.

“So, good news first.” The bard said. “I arranged for nice, hot baths for all three of us, in addition to our meals. The only thing is, they only had two rooms.”

Geralt let out a groan at that. “Fine, bard, I guess the two of us are sharing accommodations for the next few days then.”

“Aah, well. I figured, with you two having grown so close during our little journey, that you wouldn’t mind sharing the much, much larger room whilst I make due with the tiny, lonely room myself that I’ve already had them unload my things into.”

The two of you shot him equally reproachful looks over your mugs of beer as a barmaid arrived to let him know his bath was ready.

“Ah, splendid. Well, you two enjoy your breakfasts. I’m going to take a very long nap after my bath and I’ll see you this afternoon, or maybe even tomorrow.”

A whole roasted chicken arrived and the two of you tore into it without a word, polishing it off quickly as you hadn’t realized how famished you were.

“I’ll arrange for them to bring up the hot water for baths for us.” You told Geralt as you stood up and stretched, downing the last of your beer.

“I’m fine without.” The Witcher grumbled at you.

You gave him a derisive chuckle. “If we’re bedding together for the two days it’ll take for the horses to rest up, you’re bathing yourself at least once, I don’t need to smell everywhere you’ve been in the past month.”

He gave an uncomfortable shrug of his shoulders as he followed you upstairs. It had been a while since he’d spent the night with a woman he wasn’t paying, and there was something about you he found disarming. Endearing, but disarming nonetheless.

“Ah, at least there’s two tubs.” You said gleefully as you entered the room. A group of attendants arrived a moment later, carrying four large buckets of steaming water between them that they emptied into the copper tubs before taking their leave.

You started by pulling off your supple boots and Geralt turned his back as he began to unlace his jerkin. He heard you give a soft laugh behind him. “Are we really going to pretend like neither of us have seen a naked body before, Witcher?”

He whipped around at the amusement in your voice. You had removed your corset and sleeves and were down to nothing but a thin linen tunic on top. He tried not to stare at the shape of your breasts moving beneath the fabric as you worked at unlacing your breeches. You shot him a wicked look through your lashes as you moved your fingers back to unstrap the multiple sheathes that had been hidden beneath your bodice.

He did his best to ignore you as he ripped his jerkin off over his head. He made easy work of his tunic and breeches and sank into the tub while you were still working on undoing the intricate trappings of your hidden arsenal.

“I really don’t see how you can be comfortable in all of that Y/N.” He chided you as you removed the final straps and drew your tunic over your head before shimmying out of your breeches. He did his best to keep his eyes occupied elsewhere as you stepped into your own bath, hissing at the heat.

“Comfort is a matter of individual preference, dear. Oh, that’s wonderful.” You sank into the water with a sigh and dunked your head under before coming back up with a gasp.

“So, you going to tell me how you ended up with a warhorse, enough steel to equip a small band of thieves, and the strength to wield a tentpole like a damn quarterstaff, or is that something I’ll have to guess at?” He asked as he dumped a bucket over his head and ran the water through his hair before shaking it back out and splashing you, making you yelp.

“I think I’ll keep that my little secret for now, Geralt. Maybe if you buy me a few strongales over the next few days I’ll regale you with my tale of woe.” You let out a sigh as you felt your muscles relax. “Maybe I’ll get you to tell me your history as well. I hear the Redanians have a liquor that will light your chest on fire and make you forget the seasons.”

He gave a laugh and settled his head back against the tub. “You think you can outdrink me girl, you’re in for a nasty surprise… fuck.” He hadn’t heard you leave your tub and sat up startled when you crawled into his, sloshing water over the sides.

“Oh, Geralt, you’ll find that I’m full of surprises.” You said before pressing your mouth to his softly and giving a gentle sigh.

He got over his surprise quickly and wrapped his arms around you, pressing you to him fiercely as he growled against your lips.

You gave him a small laugh as you moved your lips down the line of his jaw to his neck, running your teeth along his collarbone before nipping at him softly as your hands moved down the plains of his chest, dipping below the water to take his cock in your grasp. He gave you a satisfying moan as you did so and you began sliding your hand up and down his length slowly as you raised a small bruise on his shoulder with your mouth.

He bucked his hips up into your hand as you increased your pace and you moved your other hand below the water to play with his balls. You leaned against his chest and gazed up at him with heavy lids as you watched him come apart under your ministrations.

He arched his back and gave a heavy moan as he came in your hand and you grinned against his chest as he softened, planting soft kisses along his throat as he came down and his breathing slowed.

He swallowed thickly and grinned at you before scooping his arms underneath you and lifting you out of the tub easily, making you shriek with glee before he dropped you unceremoniously on the large bed and pounced on top of you, nuzzling himself into the skin below your ear as his large hands skimmed down the sides of your torso before coming to rest on your hips and kneading them, raising bruises on your soft skin.

He brought one hand between the two of you and ran his fingers through the soft hair of your mound before rubbing them between your folds, making you arch into him as you let out a thin whine, fluttering your lashes as you gazed at him. He grinned down at you as he inserted two fingers at an agonizingly slow pace and you moaned as he started fucking them into you, curling them against that sweet, spongy spot each time.

He added another finger as he buried his face in your hair, inhaling your clean scent as you mewled and whimpered, begging him for more. He started strumming your clit with his thumb and you writhed underneath him, doing your best to grind your cunt into him as his fingers stretched you.

It was almost too much when he added the fourth finger and you wrapped your hands in his silver hair, pressing his face to your neck as you cried silently. He moved his mouth back to yours as he increased his speed and pressure on your tiny bud, moving his tongue softly past your lips and tangling it with yours. You came around him, clenching down on his fingers in your release as all the breath rushed out of you. He felt you go rigid beneath him before you collapsed back against the bed with a sigh.

“You think you’re ready for me sweetheart?” He asked as he kissed your neck, moving his hands up to palm your breasts.

You pulled his head back by his hair and gave him a grin before squeezing his sides with your thighs and rolling until you were on top of him, straddling his hips.

You sat up over him and he groaned at the sight of you, soft skin moving over lean muscle, a patchwork of faint scars covering your torso. He ran his thumb over an especially noticeable one that ran over your ribs below your left breast as you guided him to your entrance and sheathed his length inside you suddenly, making him hiss.

You started grinding against him, rubbing your clit against his pubic bone before you started fucking yourself on his cock. He tossed his head back with a moan and a murmured “Fuck” as his hands moved to your hips and guided your thrusts, meeting your hips with his own as he rutted up into you.

He sat up suddenly and pressed you to him as he knelt beneath you, staring into your eyes with lust blown pupils, a thin golden ring around a pool of deep black. You wrapped your legs around his back as he fucked up into you at a faster pace, making it hard for you to breathe.

He wrenched your head down to his and crashed his mouth against yours, his tongue invading you hungrily as you felt your pleasure starting to coil in your abdomen and you whimpered into his mouth.

He felt you starting to clench around him and moved a hand between you to strum at your clit. It only took a moment and you were flying apart around him, every muscle below your waist spasming as your orgasm wracked you and you cried into his mouth. His release was right behind yours as his hips stilled and you felt his spend spurting into you, coating your velvety walls in his release with a feral growl.

He collapsed back on the bed, still holding you to him as you both came down from you pleasure, breathing heavily as your hearts pounded together. You propped your chin on his chest and gave him a sinful grin that he returned, planting a kiss on the top of your head as you started to untangle yourselves.

“Well, if all your surprises are that pleasant, Y/N, I can’t wait to find out more.” He said to you over his shoulder as he stood up from the bed, grabbing a towel to finish drying himself off. He tossed you one and you ran it softly between your thighs, cleaning the mixture of your releases from your slit as you grinned back at him.

“My dear Witcher, I aim to please.” You threw a wink at him before you stood up and stretched. “I arranged for some clean clothes to be brought up, could you check the door for them?”

He peeked his head out and brought in two sets of soft woolens, tossing one to you. You yanked a tunic over your head before stepping into the clean pair of breeches. You decided to forgo most of your blades for the moment, opting for a simple belt that contained two daggers once you had finished lacing up your bodice.

“Shall we head down for more ale?”

“Gods yes, what else do you know about this storied Redanian liquor?”

You gave him a throaty laugh as you headed down to the main room and lute music floated up to meet you.

“Ah, Y/N! Geralt! My friends! Join us for a song won’t you? Y/N, I still want to hear you sing ‘The Fishmonger’s Daughter’ for us, eh? Oh Fishmonger, Oh Fishmonger, Come Quell your Daughter’s Hunger”

“Gods, Jaskier, aren’t you sick of that song yet?” Geralt growled half heartedly

“Pull the stick out of your ass, Witcher. C’mon, Jaskier. To pull on my horn, as it rises in the morn!”

“What a lovely voice you have my lady! For tis naught but bad luck, to fuck with a puck!”

The Witcher rolled his eyes at the two of you as he headed to the bar and the rest of the patrons joined in. What he wouldn’t give to never hear this abominable tune ever again.

“Lest your grandkid be born, a hairy young faun! Bleating and baying all day, hey ho!”

Permanent Tags:

@drabblewithfrannybarnes​

[jaskierswolf]

Weight on My Shoulders

A very self-indulgent prequel to my not so kinky soulmate AU (Tumblr/AO3).

Any references to events or messages involving my own darling soulmate @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde is purely coincidental. I promise we are much more needy than this.

Ship: Geraskier (pre-romantic)

CW: Far too much pining, mentions of anxiety, long distance friendships

_____

Jaskier pouted as he wrapped himself up in his weighted blanket and duvet. Even with the additional weight he was struggling to sleep properly, but it did help. What would really help was a hug from his soulmate, but that was off the table. Geralt was a bazillion lightyears away, all the way in America, and Jaskier was stuck in miserable, grey England. They’d been talking online for two years, and the distance wasn’t getting any easier. If anything it was getting worse, and Jaskier wasn’t sure how much more he could take of it.

“Jask, you’re falling asleep, love,” Geralt hummed from the too bright screen that was lighting up his room. “Go to bed.”

“I’m in bed,” Jaskier huffed.

“Go to sleep, we can talk more in the morning.”

Jaskier whined, sinking further into his blanket burrito. “But I have work again tomorrow, I don’t want to sleep. I want to talk to you. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Geralt sighed, smiling warmly at him through the screen, “But I will be here when you wake, I promise.”

“I’d rather you be here with me.”

It was pathetic. Jaskier knew it was pathetic, but he just felt a warmth in his chest, a ghost of Geralt’s arms around him.

“I’m always here” Geralt hummed in his mind.

Jaskier leaned into Geralt’s mental embrace, letting himself soak in the glow of his soulmate’s warmth. He was struggling to keep his eyes open which didn’t really matter but he only had a few hours each day to video call his soulmate and he hated wasting any of them. It had been worse the last few days. Essi and Pris had announced they were going to honeymoon in New York, and whilst they wouldn’t see Geralt, they would be a whole lot closer than Jaskier had ever been. He’d even considered asking to tag along in their suitcases so he could afford the trip to the States.

He just missed Geralt so fucking much.

“I love you,” he mumbled again, wiping the tears from his eyes that he hadn’t even realised had formed. “I love you more than Dandelion.”

He tried to laugh but it sounded weak to his own ears. Dandelion was a musician, just like he was hoping to be, a beautiful tall elegant man with gorgeous long blond curls, and a laugh that could outshine a thousand suns. He was also Jaskier’s celebrity crush and inspiration. Jaskier had been obsessed since he was sixteen, secretly hoping that Dandelion was his soulmate. Not much had changed since meeting Geralt in his dreams. He was still completely obsessed with the musician, only his daydreams tended to include Geralt as well, a fact that his soulmate thankfully found endearing.

“Wow,” Geralt chuckled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “That’s high praise.”

“It’s true! I would renounce my love of Dandelion for mere seconds in your arms,” Jaskier insisted, “and then I would never let you go and you’d be stuck with me.”

“It would be hard to work with a Jaskier in my arms.”

Jaskier scoffed, rubbing his eyes. “You’ll manage.”

“Sleep, Jask,” Geralt’s words were a low hum, added weight to his blanket and Jaskier could feel himself slipping. He supposed it was only a matter of time really, it was nearly midnight and Jaskier had to get up at an ungodly hour for work. “For me.”

And really that was just unfair. Geralt knew that Jaskier would do anything for him. He was just that desperate for attention, although despite his slightly less dramatic personality, Geralt could be equally needy, if you knew how to read him.

“That’s cheating,” Jaskier whined.

“I never said I play fair.”

“Betrayed by my own soulmate,” Jaskier pouted as Geralt hung up the call and his tiny little bedroom fell into darkness. Without the light of his phone, Jaskier was fighting a losing battle. “I love you, dear heart.”

“I love you too, a lot. Too much.”

Jaskier scoffed, turning to hug his pillow. “Never too much, never enough. Goodnight, my love”

“Night, Jask.”

_______

When he awoke the next morning, Jaskier had a notification on his phone. It wasn’t unusual. Geralt often left him little messages, pictures of Roach, or things that had reminded him of Jaskier throughout the day. Sometimes, if Jaskier was lucky, Geralt would leave him gifs of Dandelion, and on even rarer occasions, awkward selfies that were never flattering despite Geralt’s godlike appearance. Jaskier treasured every single one. But no, that morning he had a more unusual notification.

It was from Lambert.

They’d talked a couple of times, mostly in a group chat whenever Geralt wanted to include Jaskier on family film night or playing games online, which Jaskier was shockingly terrible at, especially the shooting games the boys preferred. Lambert had never DM’d Jaskier before though. There had never been an occasion to, so why bother?

So Jaskier was feeling more than a little anxious about clicking on the message.

“Geralt?” he tested, although he was pretty positive that his soulmate was asleep. Geralt would usually at least say good morning when he was awake, but there had been nothing but silence through their soulbond.

It came as no surprise when Geralt didn’t answer.

His phone buzzed again in his hand, another message from Lambert.

“Bollocks,” Jaskier groaned, sitting up in bed so he could find his glasses. They were buried under his blanket and looking a little bent out of shape but that was nothing new.

L - Guess who’s coming to England on a business trip!

Jaskier’s heart jumped and hope soared through his body, a flutter of wings in his chest as his pulse raced, only to be destroyed in the next second.

L - It’s not Geralt, shit. I should have started with that.

- It’s me.

- I’m coming to England. Found out this morning. All expenses paid. - I’ll be in London for a week, if you want to meet up?

Jaskier stared at his phone. He was excited, of course he was but he couldn’t help the ache in his heart. His friend was coming to England. Geralt’s family was coming to England. That was one step closer to meeting his soulmate in person, but it wasn’t far enough. He felt like shit. Guilt tore through him. Lambert was clearly excited about his news and yet all Jaskier could think of was how he wasn’t Geralt.

Maybe he could give Lambert something to take back to Geralt. They’d sent letters and parcels back and forth but it would be different like this, and he should be excited. He should be over the fucking moon.

And truth be told, if he hadn’t felt so incredibly needy already he probably would have been more excited, but his heart was feeling fragile. Jaskier had spent the last week or so wondering if Geralt loved him back in a romantic way, or whether they would just be the dearest of friends. Whatever it was, Jaskier would be fine. That’s how soulbonds worked. They would be perfect for one another, platonically or romantically but Jaskier fell hard and fast.

Surely Geralt would love him back in the same way, right?

Jaskier was too afraid to ask at this point. He just kept saying “I love you” and hoping that Geralt would hear the truth. Neither of them had spoken about dating other people, but Jaskier knew there was no hope for him. Perhaps the odd fling, but he’d tried that once and without the connection he had with Geralt, he just wasn’t really into it.

He sighed dramatically and picked up his phone.

J - That’s fucking brilliant!!

He added a stream of emojis for good luck.

J - and all expenses paid for?! Drinks are on you, darling x

L - You should be so lucky.

- Pay for your own drink you cheapskate.

Jaskier squinted at the screen, pushing his fringe from his face. His tongue flicked out to lick his lips, and he ignored the dryness in his throat. Logically, he knew he should get up and get some water but his bed was comfy and he didn’t quite want to face the day yet, especially as Geralt was asleep. Things just felt heavier when Geralt was asleep.

He sighed again and tapped out a message.

J - Can you sneak Geralt in your suitcase?

- I’ll pay for the luggage fee <3

Lambert started typing immediately and Jaskier waited with bated breath. It had been a joke but there was always a chance that Lambert would be allowed a plus one… right?

L - I’m afraid not

- I’m sorry. I know you want to meet.

- Geralt is just as upset. The bastard hasn’t spoken to me all day.

Jaskier couldn’t help but laugh at that. He’d sensed something had been bothering his soulmate, especially when Geralt was the one to insist they video-called before Jaskier went to bed, but it was nice to hear that he wasn’t the only one being pathetic and unreasonably grumpy. Sometimes it felt like Jaskier felt everything and Geralt was just putting up with him because he didn’t have much choice. In his heart, Jaskier knew that wasn’t true, that Geralt just showed his love in a more sedate manner.

Opposites really do attract.

He sighed and switched chats, typing out a quick message to his soulmate.

J - I miss you. I love you. I will be unbearably needy today. Sorry!

Flipping his phone to the camera app, Jaskier snapped a quick selfie. He looked like a mess of stubble, glasses and ratty hair… but Geralt never seemed to mind.

J - Isn’t your soulmate the best?

- Love me?

- I love you

- I already said that but it’s true.

Jaskier cursed and threw his phone onto the end of the bed before remembering that he hadn’t answered Lambert yet. He pouted and scrambled to find his phone again, struggling against the weight of his blanket. The blanket did wonders for his ADHD but it could be a pain in the arse to move sometimes. Reluctantly, he switched back to Lambert’s chat.

J - I can’t wait to show you around! Ooh we could go to the natural history museum, I’m sure some of the stuffed animals look just like you! Or maybe a show!

L - Not sure how much I’’ll be able to hang out, but we’ll have to get a photo to show Geralt.

- He’ll probably be jealous.

- But he’ll manage.

Jaskier rolled his eyes. Siblings could be the worst. He’d never really gotten on well with his own sisters but he could imagine having Lambert for a brother would be a hundred times worse. Still, he smiled at his phone. Geralt would be jealous. Geralt wanted to meet him. That was a good thing, no matter how much Jaskier pined to see his soulmate over Lambert.

This was a start.

One day.

They would meet one day, and then Jaskier would never have to let him go. He just had to be patient… for now.

[babylooneytoonz]

The Vessel [Pt. 3]

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Fem! Reader

Summary: While you are trying to figure out why the Witcher is so abhorrent towards you, he finally gives you a hint as to why he doesn't like you. Also, you realize something— Yennefer and her spells can never go wrong.

Warnings: Geralt being a dick is what.

[My Masterlist] [My Witcher Masterlist - Read the other parts here!]

It had been weeks since you slept with Geralt of Rivia, but you hadn't been feeling any different. If it were up to you to say, you would say that Yennefer's plan didn't work— although you couldn't muster the courage to ask her directly if it did.

What made you so sure that the plan hadn't worked was the fact that Geralt and Yennefer had been fighting about something since a few nights and you could feel the strain in their relationship starting to show up. This hunch that you had only strengthened when one day, you unknowingly stumbled upon an argument between the Witcher and the Mage.

It was almost a week after that night on the Great Mount. Geralt had been indifferent towards you since then— not even bothering to spare a glance in your direction when the four of you were in the same proximity.

You were now back at Redania— your home, but so were Yennefer , Geralt and Jaskier— staying at your place like unwanted guests who were exceeding their stay.

Jaskier held two heavy logs in either of his arms, while your own hands were stuffed with the eggs from your coop, that you were intending to cook up for dinner tonight, when you heard shouting from one of the rooms upstairs.

"It was you that said that the plan would work. It didn't work, clearly."

You could recognize Geralt's voice from afar; broody, low and devoid of any emotion.

"Aren't you going to go check in on them?" You turned towards Jaskier and frowned, your eyes shooting upwards, fixing on the topmost stair before you withdrew it and fixed it on him again.

"Me? Stuck between a broody Witcher and a scary Witch? God save my poor soul then." Jaskier commented back as he placed the logs by the fireplace and began to light it.

"Jaskier—" You couldn't help but smile at him, as you placed the eggs on the table and blinked, turning towards him, "Yennefer isn't a witch, she is a mage. Besides—"

Before you could complete your sentence, Yennefer's shaky voice reached the both of you, and you couldn't help but wonder what was actually going on between the two of them.

"I don't understand what's gotten into you, Geralt. These things take time. Why won't you let the spell take it's due course?"

"Yen, your spell failed. It's high time you realize that."

You shook your head to yourself as you busied yourself with trying to prepare the stew for dinner, but your ears were fixed on them.

"You don't question my spells, Witcher. I know what I'm doing. Besides— now to come to think of it, did you even fuck her right?"

Jaskier couldn't help but snort, but when he looked at how red you suddenly were, he immediately masked his expressions as he propped himself next to you.

"Did he, [Y/N]?"

"Jaskier, I'm not having this conversation with you," You shook your head at him, exasperated that he was still bugging you with this question, "Now can you please help me out? I need help with the stew, Jas'." Jaskier stood up, whistling to himself as he fixed himself next to the pot, stirring it while you began working on getting the bread ready when the door above slammed shut and heavy footsteps began descending down the stairs. Both you and Jaskier turned to see a very annoyed Yennefer walk towards the front door, without her Witcher in tow, just like he already was.

"I've got some business to attend to in Novigrad, Jaskier." She pointedly ignored you, and you couldn't help but bite back the words threatening to spill out of your mouth. Living under your roof, she was behaving like you were an outsider. Secretly, you were thrilled that she was leaving , even though it was for a short while.

You watched, through the window as a portal suddenly emerged just outside of your barn, and she disappeared through it, leaving you and Jaskier gawking at each other, Jaskier finally speaking, "I say, trouble in paradise?"

"It's none of your concern, Jaskier. You really need to stop meddling with other people's businesses. Now would you be kind enough and go ask your friend to come down? Dinner's almost read—"

"Jaskier, come on now. We're leaving." Geralt cut you off as he finally appeared, all dressed in his tunic and breeches, his sword peeking out from behind him. You parted your lips, ready to ask him where he was off to but it was like he had already anticipated that this was going to come, so finally he looked at you, but with the same indifference with which he had treated you so far.

"It's time we move on. Keep the coin. Seems like Yennefer's plan failed after all—"

The sheer coldness in his voice stung you like a thorn but you didn't let him realize that. Slowly, you lifted the cloth, wiping your hands with it, trying to act just as indifferent towards him— even though you felt like you had been betrayed, which you mentally cursed yourself for.

This was going to happen one day or the other— and wasn't it better that they were finally going to be out of your life now? And not later when they would mercilessly pull your babe away from a mother's breast and call it their own?

"Where are we going, Geralt? We can atleast stay for dinner, a man needs to eat—"

"We will roast a deer on our way, Jaskier." Geralt's irritation was evident from his tone, so the bard turned towards you, choosing now to ignore the Witcher with a sulk on his face.

"Oh Jaskier," you whispered, softly, "Don't you worry. I'll quickly pack some food for you, for the way."

"Oh hush, woman, don't go so soft on me, I would want to switch the roles with that broody gentleman over there."

Your cheeks suddenly felt like they were on fire; and you were sure you had turned a tomato red. You instinctively looked away, quickly finding yourself a distraction at the table as you began packing some bread and ham in a cloth satchel for him to take along with him— fighting back the smile that craved to break out.

"Jaskier, you are free to stay here for as long as you want, the minute I get on Roach, I leave," grumbling, the White Wolf slammed the front door shut as he walked off, your eyes suddenly widening, as the smile was quickly replaced by a lingering hurt upon listening to his words. Why did he hate you so much? Was it because you couldn't give him— them— the child they so desperately wanted?

"Okay thank you for the dinner, and don't, like DO NOT mind him, he has always been a grumpy ham."

Jaskier took the satchel, flinging it over his shoulder, whilst at the same time grabbed his lute and immediately darted out, and by that time, the Witcher was already trotting towards the main path. You fixed yourself by the front door, watching the poor bard struggle to catch up with him and once the two of them were out of sight, you went back inside.

If there was anything that turned a bright way for you after the three of them stepped out of your life for good was the fact that you had enough coin on you now to last for atleast a year. You bought three new goats so you could milk them and sell the milk in the village, along with the eggs.

But the void remained—

The night's were the most difficult, because there were nights when you woke up to a dream where a certain white haired, amber eyed man was laying in bed with you, his thick palm resting on your waist, your back pressed against him as he spooned you.

Maybe it was because you couldn't sleep that night too, that you did not miss the strangled groan that you heard from outside your window. You forced yourself to sit up, rubbing your eyes as you leaned over the window to look out but you couldn't see anything. Just then, someone began pounding on your front door, startling you.

It didn't take you long to run down the stairs, still dressed in your chemise, your arms wrapped around your arms as the knocking became frantic and urgent. When you opened the door, you felt like someone had kneed you in the gut—

"Jaskier?" The bard looked a mess, his clothes were bloody and dirty, his hair slick and sticking to his face.

"I didn't know who else to go to nearby. Geralt needs—" Jaskier began, and the two of you turned towards Roach. Geralt was although perched atop, he was now arching forward, his body almost limp, his head resting against the saddle.

"What happened, Jaskier?" You ran out towards Roach, who whinnied at you, perhaps having sensed that something was wrong with her owner. You placed your palm on Geralt's shoulder, but the minute your palm came in contact with him, he grunted and looked up, and you saw how weak and pale he looked, "I told J-Jaskier — I'm f-fine.. Jaskier.. Jaskier..fuck.. Novigrad.. I asked you to take us to ... Novigrad."

Geralt of Rivia was injured, the flesh on his side had almost been ripped apart by what looked like claws, and yet he was being a stubborn pig. You grabbed him by the fabric of his tunic, balling the fabric as you began literally dragging him off the horse, paying no heed to his annoying murmurs.

"Jaskier, can you help? I alone cannot get him off, you know?"

Helping Geralt walk into your home was a difficult task but somehow, you and Jaskier convinced Geralt to do it. You sat the very injured Geralt by the fire and knelt down in between the space of his legs, using gentle fingers as you rolled up the torn fabric of the tunic. He hissed when your fingers came in contact with his clawed flesh and that's when you saw how massive the claw marks were.

"Who did that to him, Jaskier?" You let go off the big man as you stood up, your hands now caked in Geralt's blood. You ran up to one of the wooden racks that stood by the fireplace with a dozen glass bottles on it. You grabbed the mortar and pestle, placing it on the table in front of you, as Jaskier lowered himself on a chair, now wiping the blood off his face with a washcloth.

"I swear you should have seen it, it was the tallest harpy I have ever seen— well technically, it's the first harpy I've ever seen," he mumbled, and you couldn't help but give him a weak smile as you began to look for the ingredients to make a paste for Geralt's wounds.

"What are you looking for?" Jaskier asked, intrigued, as he watched you fiddle with the glass containers.

"Turmeric, Jaskier. It will stop his bleeding, although had he been human, that injury would have killed him— instantly," you pointedly stared at Jaskier, and he gulped nervously when your words finally registered into the back of his mind. You quickly turned away, resuming your search for the other ingredients. You pulled out two containers; one with lotus petals and the other one containing chamomile, placing it on the table, next to the mortar and pestle.

"Jaskier, while I prepare the paste, can you get Geralt to lie down by the fire? And take off his—" You pointed towards his tunic that was already ripped apart, hanging loosely by his side. Jaskier immediately nodded, getting to work.

You knelt down next to Geralt. His eyes were open, but his face was sweaty and his breathing was uneven; his lips tightly pressed together as he stared at the fire. Your fingers delicately moved over the gashes on his side, and he didn't flinch as much now.

"Can you sit up, Geralt? I need to bandage your waist."

That's when he turned towards you, regarding you briefly as he grunted, pushing himself up slightly and you quickly bandaged his wound with a cloth, securely tying it around his waist before he fell back against the makeshift bedding you had created for him by the fireplace.

You were finally done tending to the man's wounds so you stood up, moving to wash your hands by the sink, when Geralt's voice reached you, startling you.

"I told Jaskier not to bother you. Yennefer could have fixed this."

Your head sharply turned towards him, and you parted your lips, but it was as if your words were lodged to your throat, refusing to come out.

"You can't put all the blame on Jaskier. He could have left you to rot, stolen your mare and left, but he stuck around to ensure you were brought back to safety. You need to learn to swallow that thick ego of yours and give the bard some credit," you intentionally chose not to talk of Yennefer.

He grunted in response, shifting slightly so he could get comfortable, his body tilted at an angle towards the fire that you could see more of his back— full of old scars— this one will be adding to it soon.

"Are you a healer?"

His question pulled you off track.

You shook your head, wiping your hands with a clean cloth, reaching out for one of the blankets that you had stored for yourself as a winter supply, placing it over Geralt's legs— with half a mind that you will have to fight him for this act too— but much to your surprise, Geralt of Rivia accepted the blanket, pulling it over his chest.

"No, not a healer, just a woman with a passion to know things. You see, living alone you need to know certain things as you never know what life is going to throw your way."

"Hm," he fell quiet, and all the two of you could now listen to were the embers erupting from the fire.

The next few minutes, Geralt was quiet, so assuming that he had fallen asleep, just like the bard had; already snoring away to glory, you pulled your chair closer to the fireplace, lowering yourself against it as you began working on another blanket for Jaskier.

"You should have said no."

Startled to hear the low broody voice again, you looked up but this time found Geralt sitting on the makeshift bedding, the pads of his feet resting against the floor, his back turned towards the fire but his face turned towards you.

"Geralt, you should lie down—"

"You should have said no to Yennefer, but you agreed although you knew what she wanted to make you do."

"Says the man who makes a living slaying monsters. Would you say no to a good bounty if that meant being paid enough to last you a year?" You snapped at him, not meeting his gaze.

"You needed coin, there were thousand other ways to do it."

"Like what, Geralt? Don't you think I tried all these ways you are talking about?" The half done blanket now lay forgotten at your feet, and you were standing, towering over Geralt, your lips trembling with rage. How dare he?

"There are many brothels in Redania that I know of that would have gladly taken you in."

"You know what, Witcher?" You spat, "I'm NOT having this conversation with you. I don't like you anymore than you like me, so there's no point in even speaking. Once you are well enough, I would gladly have you out of my home."

You turned away from him, and then blinked, for you couldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry, as a thick chunk of a tear rolled down your cheek. Swallowing bitterly, you began climbing up the stairs, rather loudly, when Geralt mumbled, "You won't see us when you wake up tomorrow, don't worry."

Ignoring him, you reached the topmost stair, but when Jaskier began speaking to Geralt in a low voice, you couldn't help but pause, inching your ear towards them so you could listen to what they were saying.

"Why do you insist on being like that with her, Geralt?"

Jaskier's words were followed by what sounded like a bitter laugh, and a cough.

"I knew you were awake. I wondered why you didn't jump in to defend her like you always do, Jaskier."

"That is not the point, Ger—"

"If you must know why I can't stop being the way I am around her is because every single time I see her, I'm reminded of the false hope that Yennefer gave me, Witchers are sterile, and that's how it is, I should have known than to fall into Yennefer's words."

He was hating for you something you hadn't even done. You gave him hope, or Yennefer did?

You would have stood there and continued listening to what more he had to say, but you couldn't help it— your face turning sour, when sudden nausea hit you. Your palm instinctively flew up to your lip; making you almost double over and your eyes lifted up, scanning the area for anything you could use to relieve yourself. Grabbing an empty basket that lay close by, you fell down on your knees, your knees scraping against the wood of your flooring and you began wretching out the contents of your stomach, sweat trickling down your forehead as dread filled you up. You were scared that Yennefer's spell had worked. Your palm flew to your flat belly and you pursed your lips together, blinking away the tears and wiping the corner of your lips.

Now that you had wished for the spell to fail, it had perhaps, worked. Maybe things weren't destined to go about the way you wanted them to— all you wanted was to watch Geralt of Rivia leave you alone for good and never come back [Wishful thinking]. But if, the spell had worked, it meant that you were probably carrying his Witcher baby, and that meant, you will have to see more of the white haired man with amber eyes, whether you liked it, or not.

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[resonant-alchemy]

It's a Great Day for Being Sad

I needed to get my sadness out due to recent events in the Witcher fandom. This is the resulting fic. It's in the tags but it bears repeating: This is not a happy fic.

Rating: M

Pairing: Geraskier (actually Jaskier/doppler but in Geralt form)

Tags: Unhappy Ending, Dubious Consent, Dopplers, Angst, this is not a happy fic

-------------------------

The doppler knows everything Geralt knows. He knows Jaskier is easy pray, having been yearning for Geralt since they started traveling together on and off, years ago.

The relief is easily recognisable on Jaskier’s face as he sees the doppler - in the shape of Geralt - at the Kingfisher. Relief that the witcher has not yet croaked in some battle with a random drowner, foglet or ghoul.

“Geralt!” Jaskier’s smile is warm, his eyes bright. “Long time no see, my friend. Come, ale is on me.”

The doppler - Geralt, he’s Geralt now – does see the appeal, though he doesn’t even like men. He doesn’t even like humans. But Geralt, Geralt likes both men and humans, and knowing Geralt’s memories, he’s surprised nothing’s happened between the witcher and the bard.

Jaskier has the kind of pent up energy that can only come from literal years of ridiculous, desperate pining. It will make this easy.

Read the rest below or on AO3

Geralt doesn’t kill monsters for no reason, but at his core, he is still a witcher. A part of Geralt even recognises himself for the killer he is; a sword for hire, nothing more. He believes he’s devoid of emotion. It couldn’t be further from the truth. Geralt’s emotions are carefully controlled, yet they simmer under the surface in a constant stream, held back only by sheer force of will.

It doesn’t matter that this witcher is more merciful than the rest of them. A witcher is a witcher. Geralt surely isn’t much different from the witcher who killed his beloved, the witcher whose name the doppler doesn’t even know.

Jaskier pays for two tankards of Redanian Lager and takes a seat at one of the tables as Geralt the doppler follows him.

“So how’s the path been treating you lately?” Jaskier asks as he takes a sip and licks away foam left by the ale from his upper lip. The real Geralt would have liked the sight of that.

“Not bad. My last contract was paid out in full.” He takes a sip. There’s an interesting effect where Geralt’s memories, his connection between ale, taverns, and warmth and safety, makes the foul ale taste better.

“For once! It does help to appeal to their sense of honour, doesn’t it?”

“Hm.” He regrets bringing it up. He doesn’t care what and why Geralt gets paid or doesn’t get paid, and has no desire to talk about it. Honour doesn’t even have anything to do with it. Sometimes Geralt gets paid, sometimes he doesn’t. Instead, he switches the topic. “What about you? Any interesting performances lately?”

“Oh, yes, plenty! First, the var Attres were hosting a banquet and then–”

He doesn’t care to listen to this drivel either. The bard prattles on and on, telling of nobles, royal gardens, mansions, feasts. It goes in one ear, out the other. Instead, he contemplates his next step. He’s not a killer like the witcher he’s impersonating, but he’s lost his beloved and so it’s only fair Geralt loses Jaskier. That can be easily achieved without killing Jaskier; without using force. Jaskier will go along willingly.

Jaskier, meanwhile, has stopped talking. He takes another sip, and then asks, “So, what do you think?”

He has no idea what the bard is on about. “I think…yes.” He hopes it’s the right answer.

Jaskier lights up. “I knew you’d see it like that. After all, a festival that large, I couldn’t possibly pass up the opportunity!”

Geralt sees his chance. “Speaking of opportunities. Are you renting a room nearby?”

“Yes, just upstairs. Why? Oh. Oh, of course, how silly of me. You needn’t ask and are more than welcome to share it.” Whether Jaskier’s cheeks take on a pink hue because of the ale or because he’s secretly imagining something might happen, Geralt doesn’t know. But he won’t disappoint.

“Are you hungry?” Jaskier asks.

“Hm.” Geralt nods and Jaskier waves the innkeep over and orders dumplings and venison sausage for them to share.

They finish their meal. Jaskier keeps prattling on like always and Geralt pretends to listen, to care. Once in a while, Geralt shoots him a small smile, and Jaskier’s own smile grows wider in response every time.

The light outside fades as night falls and the shadows deepen and darken between the red-yellow light of the candles. Some patrons leave the place, heading back home, back to their banal lives. Other patrons replace them, coming to drink and enjoy the night.

Finally, Geralt and Jaskier go upstairs.

“I’m glad you seem to be doing so well.” Jaskier undoes his doublet and hangs it over a chair.

Geralt undoes his boots, pulls off his breeches and then pulls his linen shirt up over his head and off, leaving him in his smalls.

Jaskier licks his lips, then seems to catch himself and looks away.

Geralt sits on the bed and watches as Jaskier undresses the rest of the way, down to his smalls as well. His back is turned to Geralt, but the shape of Jaskier is appealing, at least through the lens of Geralt’s eyes. “Come, sit next to me.”

Jaskier turns around, surprise on his face. He comes over and sits down.

“We’re both doing well,” Geralt says. “Though I know of a thing that would make it better.”

Jaskier holds his breath as though he’s too afraid to even hope. They’ve shared both a room and a bed more times than Geralt can count, and Jaskier’s never made any overt advances, other than those in the beginning of their friendship and then a couple of clumsy, drunken remarks. Geralt had been too afraid to act on them, afraid that whatever he started between them wouldn’t last; afraid it would ruin the friendship.

The doppler will make sure Geralt’s fears come true.

When Geralt doesn’t say anything, Jaskier asks, “And the thing, to make it better, is..?”

Geralt reaches out and runs a hand through Jaskier’s hair. It’s soft under his touch. Jaskier leans into it, closing his eyes. When he opens them again, he smiles – an uncertain, almost confused smile. “Don’t tease.” As soon as the words are out of his mouth, his smile falters. “Don’t–”

“I’m not.”

Jaskier is frozen in place, waiting for Geralt’s next step, holding his breath again.

Geralt runs his fingers down Jaskier’s cheek, down his throat, past his Adam’s apple. He dips his thumb into the notch between Jaskier’s clavicles, lingering, then follows a clavicle up to his shoulder. Jaskier shivers.

“Geralt, what are you–”

“I’m exploring…you.”

Jaskier exhales hard and then bites his lower lip.

“Do you want me to stop?” the doppler asks, knowing the answer will be no. Jaskier would risk anything and everything for a chance to be with Geralt like this.

“No, I– I want to–” Jaskier readjusts himself, pushing a leg underneath himself so he sits facing Geralt and scoots closer. His hand hovers over Geralt’s chest, right above his heart. “I want to touch you. May I?”

Geralt nods, and Jaskier places his hand over his heart. The touch is so soft, and oh, the things the real Geralt is missing out on. The things Geralt will be missing out on forever.

The time has come to seal the deal. His hand leaves Jaskier’s shoulder and settles on his neck instead, and he inches closer as he gently pulls Jaskier towards him. The tiniest of gasps leave Jaskier’s lips as he parts them, and then his eyes flutter shut, and Geralt closes the distance between them.

Jaskier’s lips are softer than the real Geralt will ever know. He kisses eagerly, his entire body sinking into it, and the doppler pulls him down onto the bed, his hands roaming freely over Jaskier’s body. Geralt’s tongue plays at Jaskier’s bottom lip and Jaskier opens up, inviting him in. The doppler takes, mercilessly, that which isn’t his.

Jaskier is none the wiser. His hands twine in Geralt’s hair and Geralt swallows his moans.

When they separate, Jaskier is panting. “I’ve– I’ve wanted this for– for so long.”

“Me too.” Technically, it’s not a lie. The real Geralt has wanted this for so long. Part of the doppler’s mind is Geralt’s mind at that moment. His knowledge and memories. But knowing of Geralt’s desires, and sharing in those desires himself, are two very different things. He wishes Jaskier no harm, but regardless, Jaskier is collateral in his desire to hit the witcher where it hurts. Maybe Jaskier will get over it. Maybe he won’t. It doesn’t make a difference.

Their hands are all over each other. Exploring, touching, giving pleasure.

Jaskier hitches his fingers under Geralt’s smalls. “May I?”

Geralt nods. Once they’re off, he takes off Jaskier’s in return. They’re both hard, and they explore that too, with eager hands and hot, wet mouths.

Jaskier is skilled in many areas and the reputation he has is apparently not for nothing. This whole thing could have been worse. This, this is actually quite pleasurable, and the doppler lets himself moan.

They face each other as Geralt takes Jaskier, and Jaskier whispers sweet nothings like “darling witcher” and “beautiful”, and then, not much later, he cries Geralt’s name as Jaskier spills into Geralt’s hand, Geralt still inside him.

After, they lie together for what seems an eternity. Finally, Jaskier gets up, gets a washcloth and wipes them both down, then settles next to Geralt again.

“Geralt, that was…”

“Everything you hoped for?”

“That, and more. So much more. And for you– Was it–”

Time to go in for the kill. “Better. I– Jaskier, I–” He pauses for effect. A log in the fireplace crackles. Their breaths come steady yet out of sync with each other. Other than that, silence. That’s long enough. “I love you,” the doppler says. The hair stands up on the back of his neck. The real Geralt would mean it. It even feels true on his lips, in his mouth. But he, the doppler, doesn’t mean it in the slightest.

Tears of joy well up in Jaskier’s eyes. He blinks them away. “I love you too, Geralt. So much. I knew when I met you, I would follow you to hell and back.” He lays his head on Geralt’s arm and nudges closer against his chest.

The doppler wants Jaskier’s happiness to solidify overnight. He pulls him closer. It’s uncomfortable, warm and slightly sticky with sweat, but he lets the annoyance run off him and Jaskier soon falls asleep. As soon as he does, the doppler carefully pulls out his arm from under Jaskier’s head and rolls away. Jaskier, clingy even in his sleep, reaches for him. The doppler lays still – he’ll put up with Jaskier’s arm slung over his waist. It’s just for one night.

When the doppler wakes up, Jaskier presses close to him in his sleep. Geralt disentangles himself, gets up from the bed and starts getting dressed.

Jaskier stirs. “Geralt?” he asks, eyes unfocussed. At the sight of Geralt, he smiles and mumbles, “Hey, wait. Come back to bed for a bit?”

“No.”

Jaskier rises on his elbows, still smiling. “Never did take you for much of a cuddler, but thought it was worth a shot.”

Geralt adjusts the shirt he’s just put on. “All of last night was a mistake.”

“What? Geralt, what– Wait. Wait.” The smile is gone, replaced by confusion. “Can we, uh… Can we talk about it? Please?” Jaskier gets out from under the covers, up from the bed, still naked, his hair tousled. Surprise turns into concern as he approaches Geralt. “I don’t understand. Please, help me understand.”

“There’s nothing to understand.” The doppler keeps Geralt’s voice cold but is careful not to go overboard. “If I could undo last night, I would.”

Jaskier looks like he’s been punched in the gut. “But– But we– You said–” He’s in front of Geralt, his hands on each of Geralt’s arms. The doppler twists free in one smooth motion and Jaskier is left standing with his arms outstretched in front of him.

The doppler has to play it like Geralt would, say what Geralt would say, or this won’t work. The bard needs to believe he’s the real Geralt. “I got…caught up in the moment. I shouldn’t have.”

“So. Wait. You didn’t mean– You don’t–” The concern has clearly shifted into shock, with a hint of panic.

“Jaskier, forgive me. When I said I loved you, I… Like I said, I got…caught up in the moment.”

Jaskier swipes at his face, at his eyes, over and over. He looks up at the ceiling, but nothing can hold back the hurt now. He keeps swiping at his cheeks even as he looks up. He gives up, and instead looks at Geralt, eyes red-rimmed and pleading.

“I won’t ask anything of you that you can’t give.”

The stoic selflessness takes the doppler by surprise and there’s a beat where he doesn’t know how to respond. It’s a shame Jaskier had to get hurt in this process. Then, he sighs deeply. “I think it’s best we go our separate ways.”

“Geralt, please. Don’t– Fine, it was a mistake but… At least don’t throw away the friendship. We can talk about this, can’t we?”

“I can’t. There’s nothing to say that will fix this.”

Jaskier’s not even wiping away his tears anymore, letting them fall freely instead. “Maybe give it time?”

Geralt remains silent.

“Will I– “ His voice cracks. “Will I see you next spring? After winter at Kaer Morhen?”

“Jaskier, I can’t. Not anymore. It’s the end of the road for us.” With that, he’s packing his belongings; armour, potions. “I’m sorry.”

Jaskier has sunk onto the bed where they made love last night, his face in his hands, weeping silently.

Finally, Geralt straps the two swords to his back.

“We had a good run, my friend. Farewell.”

He walks out the door, down the stairs and out of the inn. It’s a beautiful day, the autumn sun heating his skin against the otherwise crisp and cool air.

As he walks down Hierarch square, Jaskier, now dressed, comes running down the stairs of the Kingfisher.

“Geralt!” His voice is weak and broken as he yells after him.

Geralt doesn’t turn around.

“Geralt.”

Looking straight ahead, Geralt keeps walking.

[dapandapod]

Valdo the reluctant hero

So. Like the maniac I am I borrowed a prompt where our hero comes to the villain, hurt, drugged and lost, knocking on their door and passing out in their arms.  And this is what brain did. 

Please enjoy Valdo taking care of a hurt Jaskier (refered to as Julian because thats who they are to each other) and is very much a dramaqueen about it, and possibly a little secretly soft.

Prompt adopted from @endrega23 and it’s on Ao3 here!

Enjoy! <3

Someone knocks hard on his door.

It sounds more like desperate slapping, open palm against the wood. Valdo rolls his eyes, why the fuck would anybody come around at this hour?

He puts down his book and pulls his feet down from the stool he rested them on. Damn, this was supposed to be his night off.

More slapping on the door and an irritated sigh falls from his lips.

“Coming, I'm coming!” He shouts towards the door and slowly makes his way there.

He really doesn’t want to.

That kind of knocking doesn’t indicate a lady visit, or anything pleasurable at all.

Dragging his feet behind him he walks over the plush carpet. Ugh. So annoying. And it’s so late already. He just wants to sit alone, not talking to anybody, just he, himself and his hand.

He did not expect Julian Alfred Fucking Pankratz leaning against his doorframe.

Valdo feels his jaw drop somewhere around his knees, because what the actual fruit basket with onions inside is he doing here.

“What…?” is all that he manages to say before Julian looks up to him.

And Valdo actually takes a look at him.

Julians lip is bleeding, he is red and swollen just under his right eye and he is clutching a hand to his ribs. The eggshell colored tunic he is wearing is filthy, stained with mud and what looks like more blood. His eyes, normally so sharp and cutting, are dazed.

“Please.” Julian wheezes out. “I didn’t know where to go.”

There is a commotion somewhere in the city, shouting men and clamping feet.

Valdo doesn’t even think, he pulls Julian in by the elbow and closes the door. Locks it and pulls the curtains.

Then he whirls around and stares at the other bard.

“Why in Meliteles name are you here?!” He hisses at Julian, who only moved to lean against his wall. And no, that just won’t do. He is going to stain the wallpaper.

So Valdo grabs Julians elbow again, not braving to touch any other part of the filthy and possibly more hurt bard than necessary.

Valdo drags him deeper into his home, up the stairs to the second floor where he can put Julian in one of the guest rooms.

Yes, Valdo has guestrooms. He is a popular man, actually, thank you very much.

Only, halfway up the stairs, Julians knees buckle and Valdo have to put an arm under his shoulder so that he won’t fall all the way down again. Ugh, such a pain.

So he half drags, half shoves Julian up the stairs. His body is warm against his, too warm. Something is obviously not right here.

“What the hell did you do this time, Pankratz?”

And why did he come here? Out of all the places in Oxenfurt, why did he come here?

They are not friends? One might even go as far as to say they hate each other. A bit. Officially at least. Bitter rivals you know. It sells well.

“I’m not sure.” Julian mumbles against Valdos shoulder, head moving around with the motion, as if he can’t really control his muscles.

“Did they drug you?!” Valdo accuses, as if it was his fault. J

ulian just gives noncommittal hum, he has been spending far too much time with that witcher lately.

Valdo kicks open the door to the guest room and shoves Julian onto the bed.

In any other circumstance it would have been hot. Now Valdo is just royally pissed.

They better not find him here and drag Valdo into this mess, whatever it is.

As soon as Julian made contact with the mattress, he is out.

Valdo sighs and drags his fingers through his hair. This is not how he expected the night to go.

On the street outside, Valdo can hear the shouts and stomps of the men likely chasing Julian. They run right past his house, so either they don’t know that he lives her (insulting) or they know and deem it unlikely for Julian to seek shelter here.

Valdo gives the man on the bed another long, judging look and goes to fetch a basin of water.

Does he have any spare linen somewhere? Something to clean up that face with so that he doesn’t dirty the bed. Those bed covers were expensive.

When he returns Julian hasn't moved an inch. He lays on his back with one arm around his ribs, the other one flung to the side in a dramatic pose.

Valdo sits down next to him on the bed, awkwardly dabs his face with the rag he found.

There are no open wounds so it should be fine.

Softly he wash away the blood on Julians lip.

It is soft, red and swollen, a small line where the skin cracked.

Valdo doesn’t let himself look too closely, because he is a man of standards you know.

He has absolutely not spent any time what so ever thinking about that mouth or that sharp tongue with it.

Then he dabs at the cheek. It’s already darkening, angry red shifting into a darker purple just over his cheekbone. It looks painful, so he rinses the rag and tries to be as careful as possible.

Wait.

Why does it matter if he is careful or not? He doesn’t care!

So on the other (unhurt) cheek he simply rubs the rag around.

There. Perfect. Bed cover is safe. Somewhat.

But that tunic looks rather horrible.

No, this cannot stand. Putting water and rag aside, he shifts so that he can move Julians body around.

Gently he grips Julians hand that was against his ribs, and moves it so that he can unlace the tunic.

Wait.

No, Valdo doesn’t need to be gentle. It’s fine. This is not a friend. (But his hand was very warm and very soft. (Brain! Be quiet!!))

Unlacing tunics always was his favorite part when undressing a partner. There is something sensual in bit by bit revealing the skin hidden underneath. Half of Julian's hairy chest is revealed when Valdo catches himself smiling.

Ah. Fuck. Oh well.

If he is doing this, why not as well enjoy the show.

Julian, unlike many other bards at the university, hasn’t let himself go (yet) and his waist is slim and alluring. They both know he looks good, so what if he gets an eyeful as he does a good deed?

He coaxes Julians arms out of the tunic and tries to pull it from under his back when Julian makes a pained sound.

Oh, right. Maybe he hurt his ribs?

Valdo has no idea what to do with any other injury than a split lip or a scraped knee, but he should be able to tell if he needs to call a healer. So Valdo drags a fingertip over Jaskiers side, trying to get a sense of the ribs, if anything feels out of place.

It doesn’t, so that’s something, probably?

Next is the boots. The boots can under no circumstance get on that bed.

It is when Valdo is kneeling and is trying to pull of the second boot that Julian returns to the land of the living.

He grunts, puts an elbow under himself and looks around.

“Geralt?” he asks, voice hoarse.

“Just me, little lark.” Valdo says mockingly and pulls off the other boot. He tosses it towards the other one with a satisfying thunk.

“Marx.” Julian says, and from the look upon his face Valdo would bet his hat that memories are flooding back. “Oh.”

“In the flesh.” Valdo stands up and makes a small bow. “Welcome to my humble home. Now, take those horrid trousers off, if you please. I don’t want to dirty the bed any further.”

At any other time, Julian would have made a dirty joke about it.

Something is absolutely wrong, because without further ado he wiggles out of his trousers. Valdo turns his back on him to give some privacy.

There is only so much one man should share with another when they are mortal enemies and all that.

“Would you mind telling me what made you seek out my fine company this evening?” Valdo asks the wall, listening to the rustling of fabric and movement.

“Someone broke into my room in the university.” Julian replies, his words still a little slurred. “I think they drugged my wine. And when they came in they….”

There is a silence, and Valdo risks a look over his shoulder.

Julian is sitting against the wall and has pulled up the blanket around his hips. He stares at his hands, gripping at the soft fabric, his brows furrowed.

Valdo turns around fully and sits at the end of the bed, putting a hand on Julians ankle in support.

“It’s a little fuzzy. But I remember being shoved out, punched to the ground. And then I ran, and they laughed.”

Julian looks up at him then, with his startlingly blue eyes.

“Thank you for opening the door.” Julian looks so sincere when he says it that Valdo thinks back on his reluctance with a hint of shame.

“Of course.” He says anyway.

“You were the only one who did.”

Oh. Oh shit.

“Don’t worry about it.” Valdo waves it away, but it sits heavy in his gut.

Either Valdo was the only one with a night off and bad enough sense to open the door at this hour, or the others saw him coming and decided not to open anyway.

“I’ll go fetch you something to drink. You can spend the night here, but I don’t want any trouble.”

Julian gives him a weak smile, and Valdo is struck with the urge to grab a pen and write.

“I’ll be gone as soon as I’m able.”

It turns out ‘as soon as I’m able’ is two days later.

A fever sets in when morning comes, and Valdo does his best, muttering all the while what a good person he is and what a bad person Julian is for putting him through this, and by the next midnight it has passed. Luckily.

He lends Julian one of his older tunics and pretends it doesn’t do things to him. They spend hours bickering back and forth, but Julian keeps smiling at him. It’s unnerving.

When the third morning comes, Julian is well enough to limp home. Valdo follows him there, he insists there is no point in his generosity if Julian gets attacked immediately again. Another terrible smile later, another scribbled page with secret words, and they are off.

All is fine and things return to normal. They meet in the halls of nobility, they throw sharp words at each other. But every now and then, Julian sends a smile, and the ground Valdo have been standing so firmly on is slowly crumbling.

Valdo is never saving Julian ever again.

[geraskierficrecs]

Fake Relationships AUs

i’m a slave 4 u by pasdecoeur

“Calling me a bloody eunuch the last time wasn’t enough?!” Jaskier rants, trailing after Geralt into the cold night. “You had to— You had to—”

“I’m sorry,” Geralt sneers. “The next time you sleep with some idiot lord’s wife, I’ll just let him run you through with his sword, shall I?”

“You could have said anything!” Jaskier shrills at him. “Did you have to tell him that— That I was—”

“My Nilfgaardian love slave?” Geralt prompts helpfully.

“THAT!”

And Jaskier watches, transfixed, as a slow dirty smile curls up the side of Geralt’s mouth. “What? You don’t think you’d like it?”

(or, five times geralt and jaskier had to pretend to be in, like, a violently sexual relationship, and one time... well.)

method by some_stars

"Look," Jaskier says, a little desperately, "you've pretended to be my bodyguard before, right? This isn't so different."

Geralt says, "It's different." But he doesn't, actually, say 'no.'

(For the prompt: "Jaskier has secretly been engaged this whole time (he is a viscount after all) and Geralt agrees to pretend to be dating Jaskier so his fiance will let him cancel the engagement.")

That’s My Boyfriend by toyhto

Geralt thinks Jaskier is his boyfriend. Jaskier doesn't know how and when that happened.

Dicks (in every direction) by relenafenal

“I hope he’s into men,” Jaskier said. “Or at least willing to play along with pretending to be for long enough for you to get a picture.”

“You’re going to walk up to that?” Essi asked. “You have more balls than brains.”

That was probably true.

Bardic Idyll by Lisztful

Jaskier is certain he can win the Continent's annual bardic competition, but he needs to be accompanied by a dashing romantic companion in order to enter. Enter Geralt, who is definitely, for sure, only interested in the free food, and not at all in staring lovingly into Jaskier's eyes.

Pretend boyfriends fic, with battling bards, well-meaning friends, and fluff and angst in equal measure.

My Boyfriend From Rivia is Totally Real by anarchycox

Jaskier accidentally lies to Valdo Marx that he had Geralt are in fact dating. And then he decides to roll with the lie and it just keeps growing and growing.

Remember me I ask, Remember me I sing by LadyAhiru

When Geralt finally pulls his head out of his own ass and goes to find his bard after their big fight he is surprised that Jaskier is happy to see him. He shortly realises that the singer had an accident and doesn't remember a thing, a misunderstanding leads him to believe he is Geralt's lover and the Witcher, to scared to lose him again, doesn't correct him.

i am weak, my love (and I am wanting) by vachement

Contrary to popular belief, Jaskier knew when he’d fucked up. Sure, the knowledge usually led to him digging a bigger hole for himself, but he was at least self-aware enough to know that he was, at heart, a massive idiot.

Which was why he was currently knocking on the door to Geralt’s apartment, a box of chocolates held awkwardly in one hand.

“Geralt!” he greeted as soon as the other man opened the door. He held out the chocolates first as a preemptive peace offering, knowing well that he’d need it. “Date me.”

Geralt shut the door in his face.

[amxranthiine]

c i c a t r i z e (aragorn x reader) pt. iii

cicatrize (v.) to find healing by the process of forming scars. Pronouns: She/her A/n: Yes yes I know it’s been a while. I’ve been trying to get my grades up before the semester ends and haven’t had much time to sit down and write. This is sort of a filler, I’m posting it now because I feel so bad for making you guys wait. Warnings: Alcohol, maybe light swearing? Summary:  Y/n is Aragorn’s childhood best friend. However, when they got older, Y/n’s feelings towards her long time friend changed, but he is infatuated with the Evenstar. Out of heartbreak, she leaves Rivendell and sets off on her own, leaving her love and all she ever knew. When Elrond’s Council takes place, Y/n is forced back to her home and everything she ever knew. ⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙ Y/n’s POV. We left Bree a day after the Nazgûl incident, and the six of us were currently taking a stroll through Chetwood Forest. Well... I was taking a stroll. Aragorn was grumpy and tense, as usual. His eyes filled with caution as he led our small party through the gloomy woodland. I had to admit, it was almost... nice, being around him again. He had a sense of familiarity to him, and I missed that, far more than I would ever admit. I still refused to talk to him, though. At least, for more than five minutes, after that point he usually starts asking questions I am not ready to answer. You could call me a coward, as in this moment I was running from my problems- the same problems that had been chasing me, haunting me, since my teen years- and you’re right. I am a coward.  But, I’m a drunk coward. As if that makes it any better. Which, I mean, maybe, but no. I admit, I’m ashamed. Even when I’m old and mature, a grandma in the eyes of regular humans, I still manage to have a terrifying fear of the act of confronting people. I shiver internally at the mere thought of confronting Aragorn. Needing something to distract me, I look to the Hobbits and their adorable companion, Bill. They’re chatty, as usual. They have this aura around them that tells me that they are very suspicious of us. Why wouldn’t they be? Two big people, as they call us, practically kidnap their friend (who just so happens to have the Ring of Power within his grasp), force them to move all of their belongings into one room because they may or may not die and then tell them some very ominous news. Yeah, I wouldn’t trust us either. I go to take a sip of Ale out of my waterskin, the thought of the Ring was giving me a migraine. I raised the skin to my lips, ready to savor the alcoholic taste of the beverage, only to taste nothing. I blink, confused. Then tip the waterskin upside down to see a mere drop of Ale fall out. I purse my lips as I try to hold back tears. All I wanted was one precious sip of Ale, was that too much to ask? By the Valar, the sun hasn’t even reached it’s peak and I’m already out of Ale! This is going to be a long journey. “Where are you taking us?” I hear Frodo call to Aragorn. The latter doesn’t even look back as he responds, “Into the wild.” “Way to be creepy, Strider,” I mumble, and I hear Frodo snicker at my comment. His light footsteps quickly try to match mine as we attempt to keep a steady pace. “Where are you from, Randir?” He asks me. I glance at him and ponder his question for a moment.  “Why, I’m from all over! I’ve been to Gondor, lovely city. The Steward is kind of freaky, though. But other than that, it is a beautiful place. I’ve also been to Rohan, goodness I’ve never seen so many horses in one place! I wonder how King Theoden fairs, I’ve not seen him since he was a young lad. I’ve been to the Shire once, too. I never really understood the meaning of comfort until I stepped foot into your country, little Hobbit. I understood in that moment why your race appreciates the subtly of home and food rather than adventures.” He smiles at this while I wink at him, “Where I was born I do not know; somewhere in the North, I suppose. I grew up in Rivendell, Lord Elrond raised me after my parents passed. His sons; Elladan and Elrohir, found me outside the borders of the lovely city when I was a babe. I lived there until I was 19, after that I left and went off on my own.” I gave him no more details about why I left, for I knew Aragorn was secretly listening by the way his body tensed and shifted in our direction.  “Why did you leave Rivendell?” Frodo asked, curiosity killing the cat. I was suddenly filled with an urge to not let satisfaction bring it back. “Hmm... Now, that, little Hobbit, is a story for another time.” I flash him a grin then proceed to ignore his stare as I walk ahead, a skip in my step as I do so. I saw Aragorn’s shoulders slump in disappointment at my lack of response.  I did not know why he was so insistent on knowing why I left Rivendell. I would think he would have gotten over it. After all, it has been sixty seven years. Behind me I could hear Merry whisper to the others, “How do we know this Strider and Randir are friends of Gandalf?” “I trust Randir, oddly enough. We have no choice but to trust him,” Frodo responds. My heart warmed a little at his trust in me, it’s been a long time since anyone has trusted me. I liked it. “But where are they leading us?” Sam asks in desperation. He did not like that they were following two strangers into the wild. I knew he was a loyal and trustworthy friend. “To Rivendell, Master Gamgee,” Aragorn yells from ahead. I smirk at his attempt to get me to finish the sentence. He knew very well it would work. “To the House of Elrond,” I finish, and laugh quietly and the sound of their small gasps. “Rivendell? We’re going to see the Elves!” ⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙ TAG LIST @entishramblings @canibea-whore-yet @maaaaryx @frulyall @slytherinrising @/thepeanutcollective (im so sorry love i couldn’t find your blog) @carisi-sonny @haleypearce @hc-geralt-23 @lamikahn PLEASE MESSAGE ME IF I MISSED YOU! 

[thearvariblues]

Alright, this is probably my new addiction to working out speaking, but hear me out: Modern Fitness Center Geraskier AU.

Geralt is the owner of a fitness center, with his ex-wife Yennefer. He’s also an instructor and teaches Krav Maga.

Yennefer’s also an instructor. She’s known for her strict approach that verges on cruelty, not sugarcoating anything and yelling at her clients occasionally. She will make you hate her and yourself, but it works like a fucking charm.

She’s got her own youtube channel where she posts her workouts. She doesn’t give modifications. The more people ask for modifications, the harder the next workout.

Enter Jaskier. He’s a zumba instructor. He’s fully aware of the fact that zumba’s gone out of style, but he’ll be damned if he lets it stop him.

He’s known for his cheery attitude, talking constantly (constantly!) during his lessons, and even singing from time to time. Yes, exactly. He’s jumping around like mad, sweating like mad, and singing.

Honestly, Geralt has no idea why Yennefer insists on keeping him, because they never planned on having zumba classes, thank you very much. But hey, he brings some new people in, so it’s probably alright.

(He brings lots of new people in. He’s good. He’s adorable. The word spreads and everyone needs to see this new zumba sensation.)

Pretty soon, Yennefer asks Jaskier to make a zumba workout for her youtube channel. The number of subscribers doubles. “Come on, dear heart, jump for me, I know you can” becomes a new catchphrase.

Of course that Jaskier falls madly in love with the tall, muscular, white-haired instructor.

Of course that Geralt mostly sees him as a nuisance who talks way too much and tends to get in trouble for sleeping with his clients.

They get into a heated argument one day, when Geralt has to (once again) save Jaskier’s sorry ass from a betrayed husband of one of his clients. Geralt yells at Jaskier that his workouts are nothing but silly jumping, something a ten-year-old could do. (And yes, Ciri does it quite regularly, because Jaskier also has classes for kids. Needless to say, Ciri loves Jaskier unconditionally and ships him with her father. Hard.) Jaskier yells back that Geralt’s Krav Maga classes are nothing but brainless punching and kicking.

In the end, they reach an agreement. Well, more of a challenge, really. If Jaskier comes to one of Geralt’s Krav Maga lessons and survives, Geralt will show up in Jaskier’s next video.

Jaskier does show up, but he very nearly doesn’t survive. He ends up sore, his arms and legs hurting worse than they have for the past few years. But he makes it to the end. He wins.

It’s Geralt’s turn now, and Jaskier is determined to destroy him. His next workout will be his masterpiece, the best thing he’s ever created.

They have a rehearsal before shooting, and Geralt is confident as ever. It’s even easier than he thought. Only when they start shooting, he realizes that the rehearsal was just to get his technique right, and that he’s expected to double his speed.

“Did I hear you say ‘Faster, Jaskier‘?” “Holy Mother of God...” “So that’s a yes.”

In the end, Geralt is on the verge of tears. He’s sweating. He’s gasping for breath. The moment the camera stops rolling, he falls to his knees and begs Death to finally claim him.

When he comes to his senses, though, he proposes another challenge. For every time Jaskier makes is through Geralt’s lesson, Geralt shows up in another video. Jaskier accepts.

Their first workout video gets thousands of views within the first twenty-four hours after being posted.

Jaskier shows up to at least one lesson a week. Geralt has got a bad feeling that at this rate, he’s gonna be doing workout videos with him until he’s eighty.

The truth is, Jaskier stops caring about the challenge pretty soon. He becomes addicted to Geralt’s lessons. To feeling strong. To Geralt’s hands on his body when he corrects his technique.

Geralt secretly prays Jaskier doesn’t ever stop coming for his lessons, because Geralt is addicted to his smile, his laugh, his eyes sparkling with mischief. With each new lesson he realizes (again and again and again) just how feral Jaskier is and he loves it. 

“Hello, my dear hearts. As always, I’ve got my lovely colleague Geralt here with me...” turns into “Hello, my dear hearts. You already know my darling friend Geralt–” “We’re not friends.” “Whatever you say, sweetie.”

Within two months, everyone who ever saw one of their workouts ships them.

“He’s cute, don’t you think? And single. He hasn’t seduced anyone’s significant other in weeks,” Yennefer tells Geralt at least three times a week. Geralt grunts.

Geralt knows Jaskier’s cute. He knows it damn well. He’s cute and gorgeous and amazing and Geralt’s madly in love with him.

Mutual. Fucking. Pining.

One evening, just as Jaskier leaves the center, he gets surrounded by three guys. He’s never seen them before, but it’s clear as day that they know of him. And they’re determined to teach the queer instructor a lesson.

Jaskier’s first reaction is fear, of course, but then the months of training with Geralt kick in. Before he realizes what’s happening, there are three guys lying on the pavement. One of them is vomiting and one of them is spitting blood and his own teeth.

Enter Geralt, who saw it from the inside. He was already coming to Jaskier’s aid, but Jaskier beat him to it. And holy shit, Geralt’s never been more aroused in his life.

He insists on giving Jaskier a lift home, and then on coming in to take a look at Jaskier’s split lower lip. (Jaskier has no idea how he managed to get his lip split, but to be fair, he still has no idea how he managed to utterly destroy three guys, either.)

“There’s some ice in the–” Jaskier starts, but Geralt’s lips are already crushing into his, Geralt’s hands desperately pulling Jaskier closer, and yes, yes, this is what Jaskier’s been craving for months...

When they come to the gym together the next day, hand in hand, Yennefer only whispers: “Fucking finally!”

The next workout video starts with “Hello, my dear hearts. I’d like to introduce you to my boyfriend Geralt...”

Aaand that’s about it. Thanks for coming to my TED talk. XD

[snarwor]

Happy holidays @anarchycox! I’m your secret santa! It was so hard keeping it secret for two months straight lolol. Have some SOFT Geralt/Lambert!! Thanks @thewitchersecretsanta for setting this up! More under the cut, or click the link to read on AO3!

Lambert always left Kaer Morhen first. The pass was still entrenched with snow, but he had his bombs, and if worse came to worst, Igni would light his way like it always had. He went on foot, drawling out his distaste of having someone to rely on and to rely on him in return, even if it would save his tired legs at the end of the day. He’d bought - actually bought - enchanted boots that never wore thin like the others, and he was determined to get his money’s worth. He always tried to set out before the sun rose, to watch the grasp of night slowly weaken through the trees as the day dawned, and him within it.

His attempts at disappearing in the night were never unobserved, however. Three pairs of golden eyes watched his descent down the main road from the keep, before two of those pairs turned away at the first turn that concealed his journey, the morning still too chilly to be considered merely brisk. One silent watcher kept his post, however, catching glimpses of the man’s trek down the clearly-defined, decades-trodden trail from the keep. It usually took three days down the mountain for even a Witcher’s eyesight to fail at tracking its quarry.

And Geralt’s eyes never once left him.

There were moments where Geralt doubted winters had even happened at Kaer Morhen, that the affection and touches and kind, soft words were just his imagination dealing with the aloof nature Lambert always put on at the beginning of spring. Imagine a better life, because you’re not going to get one, and all that horseshit.

Geralt made himself wait until Lambert had very definitely made his way off the mountain before packing up his own things, if the weather permitted. He wasn’t following him, of course, but the castle was just that much colder without the smirk-lipped man there to keep him warm while the wind howled and the snow snarled. Once again, there were two sets of eyes watching him, until he made the turn, and they turned away. Geralt spared one more look at the old keep, some pile of stones that didn’t mean home, but was where he had home.

And then he’d go. It became easier and easier for him to slot picking up Jaskier into his schedule, as he gathered start-of-season supplies. Enchantments and rations in Novigrad, his bard in Oxenfurt, some healing supplies from one particular hut along the Pontar.

Days passed too slowly without Lambert making fun of something. Jaskier was too polite, too refined to actually say the crass joke they were both thinking. Even Eskel, when he ran into the man, was as unchanging as a mountain, and just as unshakeable. It was no wonder he prowled the keep like an antsy panther before Lambert showed up. He was missing a part of him.

It was in the southern tip of Kaedwen where Geralt found Lambert. Jaskier was luckily away for some festival or another, and with summer in full swing, Geralt found himself grateful for the warmth, but it wasn’t a fire in a hearth he knew each crack of by heart. It was enough, though. Geralt wasn’t following Lambert, but when he’d heard “witcher” and “crazy” and “probably dead” in an old tavern, he knew the signs as well as if he’d been tracking a wyvern.

Lambert was, coincidentally, fighting a wyvern, and losing, when Geralt came upon him. He unsheathed his silver sword and prowled forward. The two were too wrapped in battle, too close, for Geralt to afford Lambert a distraction. When he found his in, he fired a crossbow bolt at the beast’s head, at least stunning it while Lambert found his bearings.

From just the cursory glance, Geralt could tell he hadn’t been eating well, and that the wyvern had injured his hand in the skirmish. On top of the other reckless Lambertisms he adhered to on the Path, like the sleepless circles around his eyes, the drawn tension in his shoulders speaking of desperation for victory, the worn look to his clothes telling of no time to waste on himself.

The younger witcher let out a snort. “Of course you’re here.”

“Good to see you too,” Geralt said with a roll of his eyes.

“Go ahead and step back, I’ve got this under control,” Lambert insisted, though he was obviously favoring his left hand.

“Sure. And when you lose that hand, you’ll have it half under control.”

“Oh, fine. Stay alert. I think there’s a mate.”

“You think there’s a—!?”

Just then, a second screech joined the first, the stunned wyvern having recovered. Geralt thought quickly, but Lambert had the advantage of already being in battle. He cast out with his left hand, pushing the wyvern back with an Aard, before charging the off-balance creature. Geralt did the same on the other wyvern, grounding it with a few crossbow bolts to its wings.

Fuck, I need to get better at aiming this thing.

The battle was difficult, but decisive when, after Geralt had taken the head of the second wyvern, Lambert had dropped a delayed-fuse bomb into the mouth of the first. They ran, but within a few seconds, were covered with wyvern innards. They spent several minutes heaving at the smell, but they were safe, and neither had sustained more injuries than a few bruises.

“See?” Lambert panted, a beautiful smile on his face, cutting through the gore across it. “Under control.”

In awe of him, as always, Geralt shook his head and wiped the mess off his face. “Come kiss me, you bastard.”

Lambert’s ears went a shade of red that had nothing to do with the flesh and blood on his face. He drifted over to Geralt as if pulled by a string, and they shared a quick, chaste kiss, blessedly free of gore. That longing and ache in his chest dissipated just a little. “Let’s go back to the inn. They promised a room. This is still just my contract.”

“Would’ve been just your grave, too,” Geralt said, receiving a smack to the arm for his troubles. “I’ll buy dinner. And a bath.”

Geralt didn’t want to acknowledge how hard the Path was on Lambert, not outside of Kaer Morhen when they could be free about it for as long as they wanted, but the many bowls of stew and bread he pressed on the man were enough. Geralt knew Lambert was the one who brought back the most supplies every winter, but it wore him to the bone each year. It frustrated Geralt each day, until he couldn’t count the other Witcher’s ribs with his eyes.

“Where’d you learn that trick with the gag reflex on the wyvern?”

“Same place I learned it on me,” Lambert said airily, making Geralt nearly inhale his beer. “Maybe I can show you later.”

“Fuck’s sake, Lambert,” Geralt laughed.

“‘Scuse me, are you the White Wolf?” a timid voice asked from the side. A boy, too young to be eating here, probably the innkeep’s son, stood almost behind a nearby column.

“My name is Geralt,” he answered, keeping his voice calm and even, a little higher than he usually did. Lambert had seen how Geralt changed when talking to children. It was sweet and kind and all the things people didn’t believe a Witcher could be. Lambert was happy to be able to see it this time. The boy’s eyes sparkled in awe, and he took a little step out from the side. “What’s your name?”

“Mardi,” the child said. “Can I see the silver sword?”

“It’s a little dirty right now, I’ve got this dagger, though.” Geralt shot Lambert an apologetic look, but still looked secretly pleased that the child had approached him without fear. Perhaps that bard is doing some good, Lambert thought to himself. Geralt pointed out the runes on the hilt, and showed off how they glowed when he spoke an incantation over them. “A sorceress I saved gave this to me as a gift.”

“If you saved me, I’d give you the butcher knife in the kitchen!” the boy declared. Geralt gave a closed-lip smile. His fangs were a little scary, even for eager children who play at slaying monsters with their friends.

“I would appreciate that very much, Mardi. I’m sure I’d just be happy if you stayed out of any situation that would warrant a Witcher’s saving from.”

Lambert saw reverence shine from the boy’s face, and his own ragged heart warmed at the sight. Geralt deserved love and affection, more than most, and had been only given scorn, more than most in that as well.

“This is my friend Lambert. I’ve known him since he was your age,” Geralt said, swinging his smile back over the table to an unprepared Lambert. He hid his face in his mug.

“Geralt…” Lambert protested.

“He killed the wyverns that were in the forest today,” Geralt told Mardi, a little conspiratorially. As standoffish as Geralt liked to think of himself, he was really quite good at stepping in and fulfilling social niceties. Maybe it was just dealing with pompous nobles that made him all stony and cold.

“Wow,” Mardi said, his adoration turning like a beam from a lighthouse. Lambert ducked his head a little, but acknowledged it.

“I am competent sometimes, you know.”

“I do,” Geralt said. “I do.”

The room they got was significantly better than the one Lambert would have gotten alone. Geralt had become a bit better of a negotiator since walking the Path with Jaskier, and knew that crossing his arms and glaring went a long way with the right person. Lambert whistled when he dropped his things to the floor, looking around at the swept floors, the comfortable carpet, the large tub behind a screen…

The one bed.

“He almost pissed himself when I pressed the issue. It’s the nicest room, but it’s also the one-beddiest room,” Geralt explained, dropping his saddlebags next to Lambert’s.

“Well, if it’s comfortable and you don’t snore, I think I’ll be able to get a few hours’ rest.”

“Hey,” Geralt said gently. Lambert looked at him, and was pulled into another kiss, this time with an embrace that made his knees weak.

“Hey,” Lambert said, when Geralt pulled back.

“Relax a bit for me? You should patch up your hand.” Geralt took a step backwards toward the door, like he didn’t want to look away from Lambert, though his mind had priorities elsewhere.

“Don’t have to tell me twice. ‘Sides. It’s a scratch.” Geralt didn’t argue with him. He didn’t want to waste the time they had together on harsh words and empty nastiness. He turned away to return down to the tavern floor, and left Lambert to patch himself up. He ordered a bath and two small trays of snacks, things they could pack away and ration for later easily, like cheeses and cured meats. Though he didn’t order any, they both came with two large, if weak, tankards of ale. It’d do. Geralt amused himself with keeping his face neutral to the peace offering from the tavern owner, but he shared a wink with Mardi as he passed by. He smirked to himself when he was finally back up in their room, balancing the food in his hands while knocking with his foot.

When Lambert opened the door, he’d taken off his shirt and jacket, revealing a poorly-bound chest and an even shittier-bandaged hand. “You planning on eating all of that? We just had dinner,” Lambert said, drawing Geralt’s attention away.

It didn’t work. “We are. Some’s for later. Let me rebandage those for you.”

“Fine.”

When Geralt sat down and pulled the chest wrappings away, it showed an almost-healed gash that must have given Lambert trouble on every hunt since he got it. “What did this?”

“Fearsome creature. Almost unkillable. It’s called a Lambert.”

Geralt shook his head with a smile. “You know, it’s always amazed me that you can be so competent, but only when you’re not thinking about it.”

“I’m competent all the time, but my bad luck is also pretty consistent.” They met each other’s rolling eyes. They didn’t really believe in luck. It’d been something of a joke they shared through all the years together. “I tripped.”

“On what?”

“Thin air.”

“Then what did this?”

“I was carrying a knife in my arms, trying to get something out of my pockets at the same time.”

“There it is.”

A knock at the door sounded, and for the next fifteen minutes, hot water was brought in to fill the bath. Geralt tipped the terrified inn workers and locked the door. “You need it more than I do. Get in.”

“Play doctor with me after?” Lambert smirked.

“Only if you’re good.” Geralt’s hand ghosted a little over the side of Lambert’s face, fond and still disbelieving that they’d ran into one another on the Path.

“You know, I’m not a toddler, you don’t have to follow me to the bath to make sure I scrub behind my ears.” Lambert stripped out of the rest of his clothes so he had an excuse to hide his reddening ears.

“You never scrub behind your ears.”

“Alright, that’s fair.” They gathered near the tub, their toiletries stacked on the low bench beside it. When Lambert’s back touched the hot water, he groaned. “Almost like home, when I close my eyes.”

Geralt said nothing about it, knowing the sentiment well. He washed Lambert’s hair, taking care to tickle behind his ears, and worked out the muscles in his shoulders. He took care washing Lambert’s wounds, and checked over the injury in his hand. It was an annoying sprain at most, and would be fine by morning.

“How’s your season going, then?” Lambert asked. He kept his eyes shut, for this all felt too much like a dream to accept as reality.

“It’s been dull. Lotta cold nights lately.” Geralt spoke of the last hunt he’d been on, just north of where they were now.

“Well it looks like I’ll have to change direction, with you clearing out all the contracts in my way.”

“Maybe we could walk together, til they get a bit more popular. End of summer means lots of monster babies.” Geralt stood, and readied a bit of medical supplies for after Lambert got out of the bath. The bastard seemed to be keen on taking his time soaking, however, so Geralt brought over the cheese and bread and meat. “Open up.”

“Wha—!” Lambert got a mouth full of bread, and had to chew to not choke. “You asshole.”

“Quiet, it’s romantic.”

“Choking a man in a bath is romantic?”

“Yes,” Geralt deadpanned. He fed Lambert his share of the food, until he wanted his turn in the bath. Lambert lay on the bed, completely nude and drying off in the sheets like a bastard. “There’s more food and ale on the table,” Geralt said, not indulging as he’d do if he were alone. He washed himself well, and stood, remaining naked like Lambert.

Geralt wrapped Lambert’s hand, running the tips of his fingers over where it was most sensitive and ticklish. Lambert flicked him in the forehead, but allowed himself to be patched up. It was hard to do it himself, especially on his hand, since he only had one other to work with.

“Oh. I remembered. I got you something.” Lambert stood after the gash on his side was patched up, and bent over his bags. He knew he was putting on a good show for Geralt, who gave a hum of appreciation, as if on cue.

Lambert stood again, and brought the item over. “Saw this in a stall in a town not too south of here. They were making them for practically nothing, painted right over another one for a few crowns.”

It was a Gwent card, the backing showing it was part of a Monsters pack, one that Lambert typically favored. Geralt usually ran with a Northern Kingdoms pack, but had been growing quite a little collection to impress Lambert with, and offer as bets when the coin ran out in wintertime. On the other side of the card, there was a fierce, but incredibly detailed drawing of Geralt. “The artist said he’d seen you once or twice, always running through the woods, eyes black as night, hair white as snow, that’s what he said.”

Geralt looked closer at it. The miniature portrait had been sealed in a thin lacquer, leaving the surface shiny and smooth. “Damn, Lambert,” Geralt said with a grin. “This is incredible.”

“Don’t start cryin’ on me,” Lambert drawled, blushing around the ears just a little bit. “Was happy to get it. Even if you didn’t want it, at least it’d keep your ugly mug on my mind from time to time.”

“Aw, my mug’s on your mind?” Geralt smirked, setting the gift down carefully, to be put with his other precious cards, the kinds he kept for tournaments.

“Well, now it’s not.” Lambert was turned in the circle of Geralt’s arms and pulled close. “Cuz you just—”

Geralt cut him off with a kiss. He knew it was unfair, in a way, but he also knew Lambert liked when he was demanding and sure of what he wanted. Geralt cupped his face, holding him there so he could see him. “I miss you too, you know. Out on the Path.”

“You’ve got that bard—”

“He’s not you. Is it so hard to believe that I enjoy your company?”

“Everyone else seems to tolerate it.” Lambert shrugged.

“When have I ever been like everyone else?”

“Alright, Mr. Ego,” Lambert finally laughed, bringing his gaze up to look at Geralt’s again. “Save it for winter, eh?”

“It’s pretty cold tonight. Could always pretend it’s winter, that the walls are stone instead of wood, that the rain isn’t rain, it’s snow. That this,” Geralt pushed him back onto the bed, gentle enough that Lambert could have stopped himself if he wanted. “Is my bed, and you’re still just as stubborn getting into it as you are getting out of it.”

Lambert watched him with a new look in his eyes, something having worked itself out in his brilliant mind. “Okay,” he said in a whisper. “We can pretend.”

After, Geralt rolled off and they both caught their breath, panting up at the ceiling, long after the candles had been snuffed out. Several minutes passed in silence, and Lambert thought Geralt had merely gone to sleep, until he spoke.

“Monsters, though?”

“My monster.”

In the morning, they walked together.

[ofheroesandvillains]

Wishful Thinking - Billy Russo

Billy Russo x fem!reader oneshot Words: 3.1k Warnings: None Requested by anon

Hi everyone! Figured I’d get back into the swing of this writing thing. Super duper rusty, but I’ll have some more Geralt content out this weekend. Sorry for the long wait, but here’s some Billy to tide you over. I’ve tried to incorporate the whole request, but let me know if it’s trash, anon! Until then, stay safe everyone, I hope you’re all being careful and doing well!

(gif not mine)

You knocked on the door.

Every Friday night was date night. Well, they weren’t really dates, and if Billy was out of town then it wasn’t really every Friday night, but that didn’t matter. It was tradition, and tonight you’d decided to upgrade from eating takeout on your couch to actually heading outside for a change, which brought you one floor up to Billy’s apartment. 

Karen had talked you into finally confessing your feelings after what she dubbed ‘a year of sniffing around each other’, and even though she had good intentions, you wouldn’t deny agreeing just to get her off your back. 

Billy Russo was not a man interested in women like you. He didn’t have dinner dates with the women he slept with, he didn’t play board games with them, or binge their latest TV addiction while they were sprawled out on the couch in worn old sweatpants and no make-up. No, he did those things with you, his best friend, because that’s what best friends did. 

You wouldn’t delude yourself into thinking he had some kind of crush on you just because Karen said so. 

You knocked on his door for the second time.

“Come on, Russo,” you mumbled under your breath. 

There wasn’t a peep on the other side, and you frowned.

“Fine. Have it your way.”

You dug a hand into your handbag, fingers searching for his spare key. Just in case, he’d said when he gave it to you, but he didn’t seem too mad when you used it everyday since. If he didn’t want you using it, he wouldn’t have given it to you in the first place.

The light was on when you stepped inside, and his car keys were on the countertop. 

“I was wondering how long it’d take you to bust down my door.”

“Christ!” You jumped, and whirled around at the sound of his voice.

His lips were quirked into a small smirk, and you suddenly knew why he hadn’t answered. Bare skin, lots of bare skin, and nothing but a towel to hide it from you. Your gaze quickly dropped to the carpet, heart thundering in your chest, and you knew he’d enjoy watching you squirm. It was a running joke you had going with each other—that you were the Penelope to his Pepé Le Pew, the only woman immune to his charms and good looks, and the only one he was desperately in love with. Of course, that’s all it was—a joke.

Billy didn’t do relationships. And you? Well, you weren’t lucky enough to be the one that change his ways.

“I, um…sorry. I shouldn’t have…” you trailed off, gesturing vaguely to the door.

It took everything in you to keep the embarrassed grimace off your face when his legs crossed your line of sight. 

“Real interested in the carpet, huh?” The amusement was clear in his voice.

“Shut up.” You bit back a smile. “You wanna put some clothes on?”

“Nah, I think I’ll wait until you look at me.”

“Billy.”

“Unless you’re secretly grossed out,” he continued, voice dropping to a whisper, “is it the third nipple?”

You laughed, shooting him an exasperated look that brought a wide smile to his face.

“There she is,” he cheered, that same soft look in his eye you’d been trying to decipher for months. “I knew you wanted me.”

“You’re a piece of work, Russo.”

———

It was a hole in the wall. The type of place impossible to find on a map and visited only by those who already knew about it. A friend told a friend who told a friend, and eventually you ended up here. 

“Christ,” Billy mumbled under his breath, warily eyeing the chipped brick and graffitied door. “How’d you say you found this place again?”

It wasn’t exactly appealing on the outside, but the outside wasn’t what mattered. The sun was setting and there was a winter chill in the air you’d rather get out of. 

You slipped a hand into the crook of his elbow and gave it a reassuring squeeze, ignoring the way his gloved hand instinctively dropped to the gun he always had tucked away in the inner pocket of his coat. Looking at him now, dark hair slicked back and dressed to the nines in a coat that cost more than your whole wardrobe, you’d concede that maybe it wasn’t the best idea to bring him out to a place like this.

Then again, if anyone could take care of themselves and you, it was Billy.

“Karen told me about it a few months ago, said Frank loved it.” You shrugged with a small smile. “I thought you might too.”

Billy tore his eyes away from the door to look at you, all traces of apprehension melting away into something softer. You knew that he wasn’t used to people going out of their way for his sake, but that damn look had become increasingly common over the last few months and you had yet to figure out why.

In a blink, he cleared his throat and the look vanished.

“Alright then, lets see what all the fuss is about, huh?” He’d barely taken a step forward before pausing, a thoughtful frown on his face. “Just…maybe stay behind me until I know what we’re up against?”

You rolled your eyes fondly and slipped out of reach to hold the door open for him. He didn’t look too pleased when you glanced over your shoulder. 

“Quick,” you mock whispered, “the little ol’ bartender looks super shady.”

He tried and failed to keep from smiling. With a stern look, you held out a hand and wiggled your fingers. His eyes narrowed, lips curling into a smirk you were all too familiar with. He didn’t have to pluck his gloves off, it was completely unnecessary, but he did anyway and you wouldn’t deny that it felt much better to feel warm fingers engulf your palm than cold leather. 

His eyes, dark and habitually alert, met your own almost cautiously, a look that morphed into his usual confidence the moment your fingers curled around his hand. If his thumb gently swiped over your knuckles, it was certainly an accident.

The inside was just as quaint and cozy as you remembered. A mellow song you’d never heard before, and would likely never hear again, set the mood among the the clinking of glasses and the hum of muted conversation. No one looked up as you passed. Young couples were immersed entirely in each other and old friends had too much to catch up on to care.

There was a booth in the corner with Billy’s name written all over it. He hated not being able to see the whole room sprawled out before him.

Billy slid into the opposite side of the booth with more grace than you’d ever be able to muster, and glanced around the room curiously. You couldn’t help but trace his profile - the curve of his jaw, the slope of his nose, the lines that framed his eyes when he smiled. There was a beauty in him that was rare to find even on runways. He knew he was handsome, but his confidence didn’t just stem from his looks…he was the most capable person you knew. The most reliable friend you had. 

Though, he did have lovely eyes—eyes that locked onto your own with an amused little smirk. 

“So, does it pass inspection? You don’t have to run any background checks?” You asked, as if he hadn’t just caught you staring.

His eyes narrowed.

“You laugh all you want. I’ll have you know that I’ve had to take a bartender down before,” he said matter-of-factly, a slow and reminiscent smile tugging at his lips. “First time Frankie and me came home, got into-“

“-a drinking contest with a biker gang-“

“-and spent the night in a holding cell.” Billy laughed at the memory, a faraway look in his eyes before he shook the thought away. “Didn’t know I told you that one.”

“You didn’t, Frank did.”

One of his brows arched. 

“Oh yeah? You and Frankie talk about me?”

You rolled your eyes at his suggestive tone. That was Billy: your own personal bodyguard one minute, and a flirt the next. Though he usually reserved the flirting for women who genuinely stood a chance—the kind that looked like they were ripped out of the latest edition of Vogue.

“You come up every now and then.”

Billy braced his elbows on the tabletop and leaned forward, voice dropping an octave and sending goosebumps across your arms.

“And what else has he told you?”

There was a knowing look in his eyes that almost made you squirm in your seat, and you found yourself at a loss. There were a million things you could have said, dozens of stories, memories—good and bad. But it was hard to hold onto a thought when he was looking at you like he could read every thought you’d ever had about him.

“Hi! What can I get you kids?”

Billy cleared his throat and sent the old waitress a polite smile.

“I’ll get the…house special?” He peered over at you for reassurance, and you blinked out of your stupor.

“Make it two, Lee. And could we get some wine, please?”

You’d need it.

Leanne owned the place, but she tried to help out as much as her old bones would allow. The few times that you’d waited around for Karen to join you, you’d struck up conversation. She’d told you about her sons, who were set to inherit the place, and her husband Joe who worked in the kitchen.

“Sure thing, kiddo. Won’t be a sec.”

You shared a smile before she was bustling away to the kitchen. Billy shot you a curious look.

“I didn’t realise you knew each other.”

“Yeah, she’s been trying to set me up with one of her sons for weeks,” you laughed.

Billy’s answering smile was tight, but he didn’t have the chance to comment before Leanne was shuffling back over, bottle of wine in hand.

“And, you must be the infamous Billy,” Leanne began, as she poured a glass. “You’re right…he’s such a handsome boy, I can see why you like him so much.”

You busied yourself with your glass of wine the moment he turned his smug little eyes on you. Leanne tattled on some more, all but swooning as Billy charmed her with his handsome smile and velvety words. You’d stopped listening the moment she threw you under the bus, mentally preparing for what was to come. 

“I’ll leave you lovebirds alone,” Leanne said with a motherly smile.

By the time she reached the kitchen, Billy’s smirk had stretched into a grin—a full, breath-taking grin that showcased the lines of his eyes and the perfect rows of his teeth. Damn him.

He looked entirely too smug for your liking. You rolled your eyes.

“Aw, come on. I’m flattered, really,” he laughed.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re gorgeous,” you huffed sarcastically. “You know she’s going to hound me about you whenever she sees me now, right?”

“Sorry,” he shrugged, though he didn’t look the least bit apologetic, “Couldn’t help myself. You get this look when you’re all flustered…”

“I’m not flustered,” you fired back. 

He held his hands up in surrender, lips twitching. “If you say so. But hey, there’s no shame in admitting you’re hot for me, babe.”

“You save that kind of talk for the girls in your harem,” you wagged your finger at him. “I am innocent, your honor.”

He shot you a wicked smile. “Kinky.”

“Why do I put up with you, Russo?”

He bit his bottom lip for a moment before answering.

“Because I’m a handsome boy, ma chérie.”

If his eyes twinkled when you laughed, it was just a trick of the light.

———

One bottle of wine had quickly turned into two, the majority of which you’d had yourself, and by the time Billy was calling for a driver you were fighting to keep your eyes open. He’d tucked you under his arm the moment you stepped out into the snow, eyes scanning his surroundings as they always did, while you waited. He’d forgone his Wraith this time—it wouldn’t survive in one of these streets and though he’d chance the drive with a beer or two in his system (something you’d scold him for endlessly), he’d never risk a passenger. 

“You fallin’ asleep on me, sweetheart?”

Your bleary eyes opened and you realised that yes, yes you were.

“Sorry…”

His chest shook beneath your cheek as he chuckled, and his arm tightened around you.

“’S’alright. Just hold on ’til we sit down, then you can drool all over me if you want.”

You looked up at him with a scowl, one he seemed to find even more amusing.

“I don’t drool.”

He nodded indulgently, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Of course you don’t, babe. Of course you don’t.”

A car pulled up to the curb, and you felt Billy tense until one of his guys jumped out of the driver’s seat to hold the back door open for you. You ducked inside with a thanks, wondering if he felt as cold as you did without his body pressed against your own. Wishful thinking. At least it was, until he threw his arm around your shoulders and let your head loll back onto his bicep.

“You okay?” He whispered.

You hummed.

“Yeah. Yeah, ‘m good.” Your eyes peeled themselves open to peer up at him, transfixed by the way his Adam’s apple bobbed when he noted just how close your lips were to each other’s. “You?”

Though there was no outward sign of it, you felt his chest heave as he took a deep, steadying breath and smiled.

“Never better.”

———

It wasn’t unusual for you to spend the night in his apartment or vice versa, it was one of the benefits of being neighbours, but Billy was adamant that he wasn’t leaving you alone in your current state—no matter how ‘fine’ you said you were. He helped you out of your shoes before you could track muck all over his carpet as you stumbled your way to his bedroom. 

“Hey, no,” he caught your elbow. “Gimme your coat first.”

Your sober self would have been mortified having Billy tend to you like a child, but he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, there wasn’t a hint of exasperation about him as he hung your coat up by the door.

“C’mon, lets get you to bed.” 

You knew his apartment as well as your own, but still he pressed a warm hand to the small of your back and guided you to his bedroom—where you promptly collapsed onto his bed with a groan.

“I’ll get you a change of clothes.”

“Mmm…gonna take more than some wine to get me naked, Russo.”

You chuckled at your own joke, and his eyes crinkled with his smile.

“Damn. There goes that plan, huh?”

He walked back over with a t-shirt and some old shorts.

“I’ll, uh, I’ll use the bathroom to get changed, you let me know when you’re done, yeah?”

“M’kay.”

He stared down at you for a moment, before giving a fond little shake of his head and making his way to the bathroom.

Your bones felt heavy, and you could have fallen asleep right then and there, feet hanging off the edge of his bed, and jeans digging into your skin. But you managed to muster enough energy to dump all but your panties at the foot of his bed and throw on the clothes he’d left you. Oh yes, falling asleep to his scent would be much better than your own. 

“I’m done!” You tried to shout as you slipped under the cold covers, but it came out weak and you didn’t care enough to try it again.

The bathroom door swung open anyway, so it had done the job. It wasn’t fair, you thought absently, that he could look so good even in a plain old shirt and some sweatpants. 

He scooped your clothes of the floor, pausing only for a moment when he caught sight of your bra, before laying them on a plush armchair that sat in the corner of the room. He turned the light off, leaving only the blue light of the moon to outline his silhouette as he crawled his way up the mattress to settle beside you.

His head hit the pillow with a content sigh. Until he heard a sniffle.

He frowned. “You cold?”

You shook your head. Billy didn’t like the heat, not anymore, you knew that. “‘M fine.”

It did little to reassure him, and he lifted his arm in invitation.

“C’mere.”

There were worse places to be, you decided, than in Billy Russo’s arms as you drifted off to sleep. You melted against him, cheek pressed to his chest and a leg thrown over his own. If it wasn’t for the way his arm wrapped around you to stroke small circles into your shoulder, you would have thought you’d overstepped. Because yes, you’d spent the night before, but never like this.

But those were thoughts for another time. The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest lulled you to the edge of sleep before his voice jerk you away once more.

“I don’t have a harem, y’know?” He huffed a weak laugh. “Haven’t for a while.”

You hummed, only half listening but feeling obliged to reply nonetheless.

“Why?”

His fingers trailed up to massage the base of your neck and you leaned into his touch like a cat. 

“Don’t want one.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” he reassured. “Got quality.”

He seemed to realise that he wouldn’t be getting any more out of you that night, and you vaguely registered something soft pressing against the the top of your head for a few lingering seconds. 

“Sleep, baby. I got you.”

And you did.

———

[jaskierswolf]

Geraskier modern AU with Chrismassy vibes for the wonderful @thetinymm who suggested “Hot Drinks” as a christmas idea! ____________________________

Jaskier shivered and wrapped his blanket tighter around his shoulders. He was already wearing Geralt’s hoody over his own clothes and he had a second blanket around his legs. Geralt was just one of those people that refused to turn the heating up unless there were literal snowflakes in the air. It drove Jaskier crazy, but at least it gave him a good excuse to steal his best friend’s clothes. They were so much warmer than Jaskier’s more fashionable kind and it helped feed his little daydream that Geralt was secretly in love with him. Every year at Christmas he wished on every star that it would be the year that he would be blessed with Christmas magic.

They were even housemates for god’s sake.

When was it his turn? He’d pined, he’d stared dramatically out the window, he’d even whined about Geralt to his other best friend, Aiden, at a coffee shop. He’d tried singing his love of Geralt whilst walking alone down the street at night. He’d volunteered to be an elf at the local shopping centre’s Santa’s Grotto.

And yet Geralt was still not his boyfriend and he was running out of Christmas tropes.  He’d considered that maybe he should try dating Aiden instead. That was what happened in the movies. The protagonist was always in love with the brooding hot guy but ended up dating their best friend, but Aiden had laughed it off. Lambert had been less forgiving about the idea but Jaskier was getting desperate. He’d tried getting over Geralt, he really had but it was hopeless.

Geralt was his bestest best friend in the whole wide world and he was so ardently in love with him.

He whined and pulled the blanket over his head. Stupid, sexy, arsehole of a best friend. Geralt needed to learn what a radiator was. “Geralt!” He yelled.

He heard Geralt’s clattering in the kitchen but there was no response.

“Oi! Bastard. I know you can hear me!”

Geralt appeared like a fucking ninja in the doorway. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and he was drying his hands on a towel. It shouldn’t have been so sexy but Jaskier had not drunk enough today and he was thirsty.

“What do you want, Jaskier?”

“Ah umm… Geralt. Hi…” he spluttered as he tried so desperately not to stare at Geralt’s arms, but they were just… there… being all… arms.

Geralt sighed and pressed his fingers to his forehead before turning back to go into the kitchen.

“Oh no, wait!” Jaskier cried.

“What?”

Jaskier pouted at his best friend. “I’m cold!” Geralt opened his mouth to speak but Jaskier cut him off. “And before you say anything, if I put on any more layers then I won’t have anything left in my wardrobe… or yours.”

“I’ll make you a hot chocolate.”

Jaskier beamed. “Oh ho ho! Do we have whipped cream?” Geralt nodded. “And marshmallows?” Another nod. “Oooh what about Baileys?”

Geralt rolled his eyes. “It’s a week night and you have work tomorrow.”

“It’s Christmas!!” Jaskier whined. “Almost,” he admitted with a sheepish smile. “Come on, Geralt.”

“One drink?”

Jaskier winked. “One drink.”

Geralt disappeared back into the kitchen and Jaskier snuggled back into his blankets. This was it. He was going to tell Geralt how he felt. He was going to stop waiting for his Christmas miracle and just fucking do it. What was the worst thing that could happen? Sure Geralt could kick him out and he’d be homeless but it wouldn’t be the first time.

Oh god, who was he kidding? He’d be miserable. The only reason he’d survived the first time was because Geralt had let him crash on the sofa until they’d eventually just moved into a two bedroom place together.

He groaned and buried his head under the blankets. He stayed under there until he felt the sofa sink next to him and Geralt pulled at the edges of the blanket.

“Jask?”

“Hmm,” he grumbled and pouted at his friend. “I was warm under there.”

Geralt rolled his eyes but he had that fond exasperated smile on his face that Jaskier was so in love with. “Hot Chocolate?”

Geralt was holding two mugs, both piled high with whipped cream, marshmallows and even a flake! Jaskier’s was covered in cinnamon just the way he liked it. Geralt’s was plain. Jaskier took his cup and hummed happily as the heat almost burned his hands. He tentatively took a sip, getting cream all over his nose, and moaned. “Oh god, Geralt. This is amazing!”

Geralt’s cheeks were all rosy, probably from the chill in the room. “You, umm. You have cream….” he trailed off.

Jaskier wrinkled his nose and tried to lick it off. Geralt sighed and moved forward to wipe it off with his thumb. Jaskier’s breath hitched as Geralt’s long silvery hair tickled his cheek. Fuck, he was so close. He could pretend to fall and kiss him, then it would be easy to laugh it off if Geralt didn’t like it… he could… oh god, Geralt’s lips were just so close. Jaskier was going to pine himself to death, it would astound doctor’s everywhere.

Geralt hummed. “You alright?”

“Mhmm…”

Geralt frowned. “You sure?”

“God I just really want to kiss you right now.” The words burst free before he could stop them and he had barely even touched his drink. “Fuck. Sorry, I didn’t mean to… I mean. Oh bollocks.”

Geralt pulled back, his gorgeous amber eyes blazing as he searched Jaskier’s gaze furiously. “You didn’t mean it?”

“No.” Jaskier insisted too quickly, blatantly lying. “I mean… well. No.”

“No you didn’t mean it? or no you meant it?”

Jaskier wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole. God he was such an idiot. Why couldn’t he just keep his mouth shut for fuck’s sake? “Yes?”

Geralt rolled his eyes and went to move from the sofa but Jaskier grabbed Geralt’s wrist, almost spilling both their drinks in the process. “No, wait. I meant it. If you want me to mean it? If not we can just forget about it.”

He took a huge gulp of his hot chocolate to calm his nerves. The warmth of the hot chocolate mixed with the subtle burn of the Baileys was just exactly what he’d needed on this cold wintery eve, and Geralt always did make the best hot chocolate.

“I don’t want to forget about it.” Geralt admitted in a whisper.

Jaskier just stared at his friend in stunned silence, a rare occurrence. “Geralt?”

Geralt sighed deeply and sat back down on the sofa, all too close and too far away at the same time. He tilted his head and watched Jaskier carefully for a moment before taking Jaskier’s mug and setting both drinks aside. “You, umm. You have cream….” he trailed off again but he was smirking this time. His fingers cupped Jaskier’s cheek and Jaskier honestly felt like he was going to pass out from yearning.

“Where?”

Geralt’s eyes flicked down to his lips and Jaskier couldn’t breathe. He closed his eyes and leant in just as Geralt did and finally their lips met.

It was Jaskier’s Christmas miracle at last.

[all-hail-the-witcher]

jaskier’s breakup album

alright full disclosure i probably went into way more detail than i needed to. but jaskiers a dramatic little shit and therefore so am i. but this album slowly became my baby and I've been listening to it for the last 2 weeks while I've been doing homework and its a good sad bop. these are just my opinions, but i think it would be cool to see what other people think (esp because im fairly new to this fandom). also this post is really long. sorry about that. 

so. we all know jaskier is a bard. he traipses around writing songs about whatever fling he's having or about his witcher. netflix canon makes it pretty clear that geralt is one of jaskiers muses (and probably one of his more reliable ones given what we know about jaskiers dating history). jaskier is also very, very dramatic (as I'm sure everyone knows cause he's the damn comic relief that show desperately needs). in particular though the scene at the beginning of 1x05 where geralt is djinn hunting and jaskier stumbles upon him, drunk, singing off key, and rambles about how "the countess de stael, my muse and beauty of this world, has left me. again. rather coldly and unexpectedly, i might add. i fear i shall die a broken hearted man” and jaskier is clearly half muttering some sad attempt at a breakup song he's trying to write at the beginning of the episode so the question is, wouldn't he do the same thing post mountain scream down with geralt?

the answer is of course, yes he would because jaskier is nothing if not a dramatic little shit. and i am proposing that he writes not only one but an entire album (or set if this is canon era, but if this is canon i think he would keep a great many of these songs to himself, only playing a few select ones with the hopes that someday geralt will hear one and realize how badly he fucked up) of break songs and lamentations about geralt, because say all you want about what their relationship is, but one does not simply go traipsing around the entire continent with someone for 20 years and not grow close to them in some way shape or form (and the show makes it clear that geralt is at least one of jaskiers close friends so). now what is on this breakup album? well I'm glad you asked.

i peg jaskiers music (modern or canon honestly) for this album as being a combination of taylor swift’s folklore/evermore albums and james arthur and ill explain why. 

taylor swifts folklore/evermore albums have this almost ethereal, floaty, reminiscent, indie vibes. there are many metaphors, recurring themes and its overall kinda dramatic at points which i feel is exactly what jaskier would be doing right now (it also just kinda gives me canon era vibes, idk). but james arthurs music is much more emotionally intense which i think is definitely in character for jaskier at this point because he strikes me as someone who copes with things through his music. both artists do the sings through story telling in an almost monologue manner which goes along with that kinda bardic music and all that. i also think that jaskier would want geralt to know that these songs are about him because hes dramatic like that (kinda like how taylor swift writes her stuff). anyway here's what i think would be on his breakup album: 

heres a link to the playlist

1. the lakes - taylor swift 2. from me to you i hate everybody - james arthur 3. maybe - james arthur 4. sad eyes - james arthur 5. hoax - taylor swift 6. naked - james arthur 7. right where you left me - taylor swift 8. all too well - taylor swift 9. impossible - james arthur 10. exile - taylor swift 11. illicit affairs -taylor swift 12. safe inside - james arthur 13. quite miss home -james arthur 14. my tears ricochet  -taylor swift 15. phoenix - james arthur 16. this is me trying - taylor swift  17. happiness - taylor swift 18. death by a thousand cuts - taylor swift 19. empty space - james arthur 20. coney island - taylor swift 21. new years day - taylor swift 22. the 1 -taylow swift

so theres 22 songs which im sure jaskier would do on purpose cause hes a dramatic little shit ( “one song for every year i wasted on you” or something of that sort). jaskier being a dramatic little shit is going to be a recurring theme. some of them work better for modern era than canon era but as a whole this can be interpreted as either romantic or platonic. anyway lets unpack. 

1. the lakes by taylor swift (more canon era interpretation)

this song is the bonus and final track off of folklore. the song is actually about how she wants to go live in seclusion with her boyfriend out of the public eye but that is not what it means in this interpretation. i think that this song is about how jaskier feels as though his career as a bard is tainted now because he spent so many years singing geralts praises and there is no way he will be able to escape that part of his life because undoubtedly hes going to get requests for toss a coin and others he wrote about geralt and people will probably know him as “the witchers bard”. so this song is him talking about how he wants to run away and live out his life in seclusion because geralt took from him one of the only happinesses in his life. 

Take me to the lakes, where all the poets went to die I don't belong, and my beloved, neither do you Those Windermere peaks look like a perfect place to cry I'm settin' off, but not without my muse 

the line “i dont belong and my beloved neither do you” references the fact that jaskier feels like an outcast now that he’s spent years traveling around with a witcher, notoriously outcasts from society, so he feels that he doesnt belong anymore either.

I want auroras and sad prose I want to watch wisteria grow Right over my bare feet 'Cause I haven't moved in years And I want you right here

the second stanza references his idealization of living out his life in solitude, with nature, where no one can judge him (and geralt cant yell at him). 

jasper would have started this album with that song because it states his intentions: he feels as though he’s done with singing. it could also refer to him leaving the public eye (in modern era) to write this album.

2. from me to you i hate everybody by james arthur (more canon era interpretation) 

songs 2-4 on jaskiers album are ones that he wrote at various points while he and geralt were still together/best friends/etc. these three songs establish what the relationship was like before everything went downhill, but they are kind of melancholy, like looking back on a past love (which is what jaskier is doing). this one jaskier wrote about when they met. geralt would have heard him play it before and he would have known that this song was about him (he probably also secretly liked it and jaskier putting it on his album would have been like a slap in the face because it wasn't one that he had shared with other people, thinking it to be too personal). if this album had been released in modern era, jaskier would have released this song as a single to get geralts attention. he would have definitely wanted geralt to know that this album was about him. 

I used to come here on my own and drink So I didn't have to think or hear the whispering I stand with people telling lies again In suits and ties again and I just need a friend

they meet in the tavern and its clear that jaskier is Not having a good time and really just needs a friend, hence why he decides to go talk to geralt.

You walked into the room and cut the atmosphere like a knife, alright Sobering mind 'cause up to now, I've just been wasting my time, ooh yeah

the “wasting my time” part is of particular interest because it clearly articulates that jaskier feels as though adventuring around with geralt was the best part of his life and before that he'd just been a bard with debatable songs. the song as a whole makes it sound like geralt was jaskiers lifeline.

3. maybe by james arthur (modern or canon era works)

this song, while geralt would know immediately it was about him, was not one jaskier ever shared with geralt. it would have been written a few years after he and geralt had met initially. the reason that jaskier never shared it was because it talks about destiny and geralt made it Very Clear that he does not want to fuck with destiny.

I don't know what's going on Where you came from and why you took so long All I know is that I feel it Like it's the realest thing, I mean it Something changed when I saw you Oh, my eyes can't lie You said, "They're so damn blue And I love how you're so forward Is it too soon to say I'm falling?"

this would have been what young jaskier felt over the course of a few years after traveling around (or befriending if this is modern). There was probably a slip up somewhere, or jaskier just thought that he got really good at interpreting geralts grunts and the line about the eyes is what he hoped/imagined/thought geralt was saying to him in return. 

So maybe Maybe we were always meant to meet Like this was somehow destiny Like you already know Your heart will never be broken by me So is it crazy For you to tell your friends to go on home? So we can be here all alone Fall in love tonight And spend the rest of our lives as one

jaskier probably thinks that destiny is some wildly romantic thing hence why he compares them meeting to destiny. the line about heart break would have also hit especially hard after the mountain scene. also i think its pretty clear that jaskier wants to spend as much of his life traipsing around with geralt in the show (modern era wouldn't have been any different), hence wanting to spend the rest of his life with geralt. 

Oh, is it too crazy For you to tell your brothers about me? They told me they'll protect you But I'll look them in the eye Tell them you and I will be as one

this is the part that sells it for me. i think that geralt lambert and eskel would all be very close (admittedly i havent read the books but i kinda get that vibe from the fandom so). this part about geralt telling his bothers about jaskier and then jaskier probably meeting them would have been an Important Moment. 

4. sad eyes by james arthur (modern or canon works) 

aright so im not sure if geralt has heard this one before. i can see it going both ways. its a possibility that jaskier wrote it at some point and then would kinda sing it softly when hes patching geralt up after a particularly rough hunt so its one of those where like geralts not quite sure what the song is but then he hears it on this album (cause say this was modern era and jaskier actually did release this album geralt would totally buy it after a few weeks and then realize how badly he'd actually fucked up) and is like shit thats what he was singing all along?? but anyway this one is essentially about how jaskier thinks geralt puts too much pressure on himself and all that stuff

You wear the burden World on your shoulders, babe So let me hold the weight I know you're hurting Deep as the coldest pain But this is the order sayin'

essentially jaskier can see through geralts bs and hes calling him out on it and wants him to just take care of himself for once (see: the scene in 1x05 when geralt says he cant sleep) 

5. hoax by taylor swift (canon or modern works)

so this song begins the plethora of break up songs that jaskier wrote about geralt. this one would have been written some time after the incident, after jaskier has some time to reflect on the whole thing. i know that taylor wrote this  song about enduring a toxic relationship, which kind of works if you think about the way that geralts treated jaskier and how jaskier interpreted it (but im not implying that their relationship was toxic or abusive or anything) 

My best laid plan Your sleight of hand My barren land I am ash from your fire

jaskiers plan was to reinvent geralts image and geralt did not think that it was worth it. jaskier is just sorta his side kick (who gets him into trouble, as geralt points out) and geralt kicks him aside like he doesnt mean anything to him (like ash from a fire

Stood on the cliffside Screaming "Give me a reason" Your faithless love's the only hoax I believe in Don't want no other shade of blue But you No other sadness in the world would do

this is a little more literal with the screaming on the cliffside. jaskier wanted a reason to stay and geralt didnt want him to. jaskier knows that witchers dont feel emotions (or at least not like humans do) so hes been tricking himself into believing that geralt actually liked having him around, knowing that it was probably going to blow up in his face at some point. but he doesnt quite regret it, and doesnt want to be sad over anyone else.

6. naked by james arthur (modern or canon works)

this kind of goes along with hoax, jaskier probably wrote them around the same time. he’s admitting in this song that he would be willing to try to work it out with geralt, but geralt needs to change first (needs to actually communicate and let him in and all that stuff). 

'Cause here I am, I'm givin' all I can But all you ever do is mess it up Yeah, I'm right here, I'm tryin' to make it clear That getting half of you just ain't enough

hes quoting geralts words back at him here ( “all you ever do is mess it up” is pretty similar to the line about shoveling shit), saying that all hes ever tried to do is be good and kind to geralt, but geralt hasn't really done the same in return and while jaskier may have dragged him into some things, geralt also needs to take responsibility for what hes done as well. 

7. right where you left me (modern or canon works)

this starts the Real Sad Boy Hours songs. this would refer to how he felt pretty much right after, not knowing what to do because geralt had been so much a part of his life for so long: 

Help, I'm still at the restaurant Still sitting in a corner I haunt Cross-legged in the dim light They say, "What a sad sight" I, I swear you could hear a hair pin drop Right when I felt the moment stop Glass shattered on the white cloth Everybody moved on, I, I stayed there Dust collected on my pinned-up hair They expected me to find somewhere Some perspective, but I sat and stared

this is kind of the processing of the event. and also the moment on the album where the audience would realize that this relationship that he's been telling about until now definitely ended. this song isn't super super emotional, its more a jumble of thoughts cause he didnt know what to feel after the breakup happened. although he didnt write it right after the break up, it was written much after as a looking back.

8. all too well by taylor swift (modern or canon era works)

(the link to this one is from a live performance because i like the emotion in this one better) so this song is not off of folklore (its off of red) but its such a powerful, painful breakup song that i had to include it in the lineup because it seems like something that jaskier would have written very very soon after the incident. the memories especially that she touches on in the song (driving upstate, dancing in the fridge light, looking at the photo album, etc) are all very powerful and real and i can see jaskier doing the same thing. again, if this were modern era i think that he might release this one as a single. theres so much to unpack in this song, this ones gonna be a little longer oops.

Maybe we got lost in translation, maybe I asked for too much But maybe this thing was a masterpiece 'til you tore it all up Running scared, I was there, I remember it all too well

this clearly references the mountain scene. they were a pretty good duo until geralt blamed him for all his problems. and jaskier was effectively stuck on the top of a very dangerous mountain that he would have had to navigate down by himself. 

Time won't fly, it's like I'm paralyzed by it I'd like to be my old self again, but I'm still trying to find it After plaid shirt days and nights when you made me your own Now you mail back my things and I walk home alone

jaskier spent half of his life following geralt around, its likely that he doesnt know what to do with himself or his life now that he doesnt have geralt to follow around on adventures. he doesnt know what to do anymore (see the first song).

But you keep my old scarf from that very first week 'Cause it reminds you of innocence and it smells like me You can't get rid of it, 'cause you remember it all too well, yeah

this is more of a hope that jaskier has. he hopes that geralts held onto something of his that he left behind. maybe he left a shirt in one of roaches saddle bags (canon) or a notebook in their apartment (modern) that geralt just cant seem to get rid of. he would like to think that he had an impact on geralts life and that it wasn't just all for nothing. in the beginning, he wants geralt to be just as hurt as he is.

'Cause there we are again, when I loved you so Back before you lost the one real thing you've ever known It was rare, I was there, I remember it all too well

this is a dig at geralt. he'd never had someone to follow him around on adventures before, much less a human. as far as we know it seems like jaskiers the first human that has even given him the time of day. this is jaskiers way of throwing it back in geralts face

9. impossible by james arthur (canon or modern works) 

this would have also been written very soon after the incident. it is more jaskier being mad at himself for not seeing the signs than him being mad at geralt. it is almost like his admittance of the event and like hes finally accepting what happened.

I remember years ago Someone told me I should take Caution when it comes to love, I did And you were strong and I was not My illusion, my mistake I was careless, I forgot, I did

jaskier is someone who clearly falls in love (or at least screws around with people) easily so its likely that someone would have given him some advice along these lines once. but when he met geralt its likely that this caution went to the wind. 

When all is done, there is nothing to say And if you're done with embarrassing me On your own you can go ahead, tell them

Tell them all I know now Shout it from the rooftops Write it on the skyline All we had is gone now Tell them I was happy And my heart is broken All my scars are open Tell them what I hoped would be impossible

this hints at the first song on the album. jaskier has no stomach for singing for audiences asking to hear about the adventures of geralt of rivia. this is his way of telling geralt that, almost as his punishment, he should have to deal with the people who ask why hes not traveling with his bard anymore, because jaskier has no intention of doing so. this is pretty brutal because (as we know) geralt doesnt really enjoy talking about feelings, or talking at all in general.

10. exile by taylor swift (modern or canon era works)

this is a fictitious conversation that jaskier wrote as occurring between him and geralt. it can be looked at either way but i think it makes more sense if bon iver is jaskier and taylor is geralt. 

I think I've seen this film before And I didn't like the ending You're not my homeland anymore So what am I defendin' now? You were my town Now I'm in exile seein' you out I think I've seen this film before

this first chorus is from jaskiers perspective. note the use of “homeland,” as home becomes a theme on jaskiers album. in geralts version of the chorus the line instead is “youre not my problem anymore” which is probably what jaskier took the whole mountain thing to mean. 

All this time We always walked a very thin line You didn't even hear me out (you didn't even hear me out) You never gave a warning sign (I gave so many signs) All this time I never learned to read your mind (never learned to read my mind) I couldn't turn things around (you never turned things around) 'Cause you never gave a warning sign (I gave so many signs)

(the () in this are geralt) this is jaskiers lamentations about how he didnt notice geralts abject discomfort in their relationship and also his regrets in not being able to remedy the situation. 

11. illicit affairs by taylor swift (modern or canon works) 

so this song is clearly and obviously about an affair. however, i have seen interpretations of the song where people view it as being in a relationship that is  so intense and well hidden that in a sense it is almost like an affair, like in the aftermath you’re not even sure if it was real or you deemed it because there isnt really a trace of this other person anymore, and that is the way i think jaskier would have written this song. 

And you wanna scream Don't call me kid Don't call me baby Look at this godforsaken mess that you made me You showed me colors you know I can't see with anyone else

the dont call me kid, dont call me baby part would reference jaskiers humanity, he has a normal human lifespan at least in canon (very much unlike geralt) so geralt might brush him off as being young and stupid. jaskier would have made this album to show geralt that hes not being young and stupid, that this did screw him up, and hes suffering cause of it. kind of like a reality check or a slap in the face.

Don't call me kid Don't call me baby Look at this idiotic fool that you made me You taught me a secret language I can't speak with anyone else And you know damn well For you I would ruin myself A million little times

the secret language would of course refer to geralt himself. hes a hard man to understand (especially cause half his vocabulary is grunts) and hes also a witcher. so jasper had to learn to understand him and now he has no use for that anymore. and the ending line about ruining myself. that would be jaskiers admittance that he would do it again, he'd do it all again, which comes back up in later songs.

12. safe inside by james arthur (canon era interpretation)

this is one that jaskier would have written maybe a week or so after the incident. the song itself deals with distance and coping with not being in someones life anymore, and i think that that is something that jaskier would struggle to cope with because hes not sure he wants geralt to be alone. this song is more for jaskier than for geralt. 

Everyone has to find their own way And I'm sure things will work out okay I wish that was the truth All we know is the sun will rise Thank your lucky stars that you're alive It's a beautiful life

obviously geralt can take care of himself, but its kinda clear that he doesnt much like his life as a witcher (the part where he talks about them getting slow and killed). so this is kind of jaskiers way of almost reminding geralt that his life on the path is still beautiful and important now that he back by himself. 

Oh, will you call me to tell me you're alright? 'Cause I worry about you the whole night Don't repeat my mistakes, I won't sleep 'til you're safe inside If you're home I just hope that you're sober Is it time to let go now you're older? Don't leave me this way, I won't sleep 'til you're safe inside

this is more jaskier worrying about geralt being by himself. he hopes that hes okay in the aftermath of this this and that hes taking care of himself still. because of course jaskier would write a whole breakup album but still write one song about how he hopes the person is doing well.

13. quite miss home by james arthur (modern era interpretation)

this song. oh my god. its so amazing. if you dont listen to any of these, at least listen to this one (actually im pretty sure no ones read to this point so if you have thanks). this song is kind of more along the same vein as the previous one, how jaskier misses geralt but its more for him than geralt. he would have probably written it at like 3am in a fit of tears and weakness, and debated long and hard about whether or not to put it on the album, but done it anyway because what does he have to lose? theres a lot to unpack here tho so this is going to be a longer one. (sorry)

I'm in the kitchen while you smoke outside You're careful not to let the smoke inside I always tell you it's poison But I know it helps you take the edge off the day We get a drink before it's closing time The one on high street with the blinking sign All these memories feel poignant I won't be there to see the snow melt away

this is a very very clear picture of an event that seems to have happened a great many times, so much so that it seems like second nature. its like a little glimpse into what their life was before this incident. its intimate, but it still is melancholy.

Whoa I'm in another city I got nobody with me And it just really hit me

this is where jaskier is now, it provides some opposition. its like a culture shock almost, like hes so used to this intimate lifestyle with another person that its jarring to be by himself.

That I quite miss home And I miss you telling me To leave my shoes at the door 'Cause you just swept the floor And the dirt drives you crazy Yeah, I quite miss home 'Cause it feels like poetry When the rain falls down on the window While you're in my arms And we're watching the TV Yeah, I quite miss home

the key here is what jaskier is referring to as “home.” it's not the place, its geralt himself. all these memories center around him, not an establishment. (calling geralt “home” comes back in later songs.) again, this mosh of memories is like theres so many of them that its almost overwhelming but its stemming from jaskiers need to feel something other than lonely and hes craving this reality that hes lost.

14. my tears ricochet by taylor swift (modern or canon era works)

this is a song that really emphasizes jaskiers dramatic little shit tendencies. this is something that he wrote, trying to predict what geralts reaction would be if he found out that jaskier died. this is really just jaskier fantasizing that geralt didnt actually mean any of what he said and does still care about him. theres many lines in here that are jabs at geralt (if I'm dead to you why are you at the wake? and Even on my worst day Did I deserve, babe All the hell you gave me?), but i think this is the most important one:

And I can go anywhere I want Anywhere I want Just not home And you can aim for my heart, go for blood But you would still miss me in your bones And I still talk to you When I'm screaming at the sky And when you can't sleep at night You hear my stolen lullabies

this is again, jaskier referring to geralt as home. as seen in the last song, he clearly wants to go there, but he cant. this could also refer to where he grew up, which he cant go to either because his parents still view him as a disappointment (as seen in finally). jaskier saying he still talks to geralt is completely in character, he probably still curses him and the whole thing. but the part about geralt not being able to sleep at night and hearing his stolen lullabies is really hard hitting. jaskier likes to think that geralt wouldn't be able to sleep without his banter or his lute playing or something of that nature. over all its a very powerful song.

15. phoenix by james arthur (modern or canon works) 

this is a fictitious apology that jaskier wrote from geralts pov, kind of what he wished that geralt would say, but knows that he won't. 

Let me, let me begin Let me begin, with an I.O.U Who I owe everything to Lately, lately my friend Lately, you think I'm ignoring you But I've been trying to pull through All of the pain, I know you're looking down, down on me I could have been someone I hurt everyone Pushed away everyone who got near

in this “geralt” outlines what he did wrong, and that he didnt mea what he said at all. again, this is more for jaskiers benefit because he knows that even if geralt were to apologize to him, it wouldn't be to this extent.

16. this is me trying by taylor swift (modern or canon works)

this is jaskier trying to articulate the fact that hes trying to pick himself back up after everything, his way of showing his “healing process” and that he can do it, he doesnt need geralt (as the song shows, its not going very well)

And it's hard to be at a party When I feel like an open wound It's hard to be anywhere these days When all I want is you You're a flashback in a film reel On the one screen in my town And I just wanted you to know That this is me trying (maybe I don't quite know what to say) I just wanted you to know That this is me trying

its showing that jaskier is having trouble enjoying things that he once did (like parties) because hes still so distraught over what happened with geralt, but at the same time he also wants to show geralt that he doesnt need him. it has a very i dont care kind of attitude, but jaskier at the same time is having a hard time showing geralt that hes doing okay, hence the “maybe i dont quite know what to say” which is out of character for the very talkative bard

17. happiness by taylor swift (modern or canon works)

this is more him convincing himself that things will be okay. he's clearly trying at this point to move on, but its proving difficult because geralt was his happiness for so long:

There'll be happiness after you But there was happiness because of you Both of these things can be true There is happiness

he also repeats the line “havent me the new me yet” a few times, which i think is again him trying to convince himself that its going to get better and he will move on from it. but this line is the one that i think hurts the most:

No one teaches you what to do When a good man hurts you And you know you hurt him too

this implies that 1. he still thinks geralts a good man (not a monster) and 2. that he knows he hurt him to and doesn't know how to fix either of them. this is also kind of him giving up on how to fix it, but him recognizing they were both at fault is important for the arc of the story.

18. death by a thousand cuts by taylor swift (modern or canon works)

this is another song that is not off of folklore (its from lover), but i wanted to include it because it think it has a little bit of anger to it (especially in this live acoustic version that i linked) which i think that jaskier would feel a few weeks post incident in a fit of rage, like why am i still feeling this way? why did you think that this was okay?? and its right after happiness, which shows that his healing really isn't linear. there's many lines in this song that pertain to geralt and jaskier and i could talk about the whole thing but im not going to

But if the story's over, why am I still writing pages?

this i think is very jaskier. its so raw and like, i know this is over, why am i still writing about it? why am i making an album about this? why should this still matter to me? its very angry and again, like many of the songs, like a slap.

My heart, my hips, my body, my love Tryna find a part of me that you didn't touch Gave up on me like I was a bad drug Now I'm searching for signs in a haunted club Our songs, our films, united, we stand Our country, guess it was a lawless land Quiet my fears with the touch of your hand Paper cut stings from our paper-thin plans My time, my wine, my spirit, my trust Tryna find a part of me you didn't take up Gave you so much, but it wasn't enough But I'll be alright, it's just a thousand cuts

this part, especially if you listen to her sing it, (which i would HIGHLY RECOMMEND BTW) is very passive aggressive and the the last line is like quite sarcastic and downplays it, like, yes you put me through all of this, but i guess its *just* a thousand cuts. this really shows that in many ways geralt was a part of jaskiers life, and his sudden removal from it would have stung in many ways, and thats not something that you can get over quickly. 

19. empty space by james arthur (modern or canon era works)

this song starts the beginning of jaskier getting over geralt. these last 4 songs would have been written much after the incident, after hes had time to think, but there's still this nagging in the back of his head thats like, well what if im being stupid and he is the one and im supposed to go back?

I don't see you You're not in every window I look through And I don't miss you You're not in every single thing I do I don't think we're meant to be And you are not the missing piece I won't hear it Whenever anybody says your name And I won't feel it Even when I'm burstin' into flames I don't regret the day I left I don't believe that I was blessed I'm probably lyin' to myself again

this is more what jaskier wants to be, not what he actually is. he thinks that hes over geralt, but hes not (the chorus gets into it more but im not going to talk about it here, but it essentially says “only you can fill this empty space”) clearly jaskier is further along in his healing process, but hes still having second thoughts. he wants to be over him, but he knows hes lying to himself, very deep down. 

20. coney island by taylor swift (more modern era interpretation)

this is the true moving on song. it’s still laced with memories and speculation, but it puts clear distance between the two of them, much more so than empty space does because it lacks the longing. it just shows things for what they are. 

And I'm sitting on a bench in Coney Island Wondering where did my baby go? The fast times, the bright lights, the merry go Sorry for not making you my centerfold

its apologetic, but nothing more than that. it dwells more on what could have been rather than what he wants it to still be. 

The question pounds my head What's a lifetime of achievement If I pushed you to the edge? But you were too polite to leave me And do you miss the rogue Who coaxed you into paradise and left you there? Will you forgive my soul When you're too wise to trust me and too old to care?

this is interesting because it addresses their immortality and how they've been together for years and also the way in which they left things (paradise). but it also implies that things were on the downfall. and the last two lines about forgiveness is interesting because it then calls geralt “too wise to trust me and too old to care” meaning its more a wish of jaskiers rather than something he knows geralt will do.

Were you waiting at our old spot In the tree line By the gold clock Did I leave you hanging every single day? Were you standing in the hallway With a big cake, happy birthday Did I paint your bluest skies the darkest grey? A universe away And when I got into the accident The sight that flashed before me was your face But when I walked up to the podium, I think that I forgot to say your name

these are all very specific, very intimate moments that would clearly mean something to geralt. and it further implies that jaskier is uncertain if he actually made geralt feel appreciated when they were together. but again, its more what could have been rather than what jaskier wanted it to be, which is a nice segway into the last two songs. 

21. new years day by taylor swift (modern era interpretation)

this is another one not from folklore, this song is the closing track on reputation, but i like the nostalgia of it so i decided to include it (and it also has good parallels to the last song). initially jaskier intended for this to be the last song on the album, but decided to add another one last minute (and we will get into why). this song is more jaskiers muted longing to still be with geralt, albeit in the far future. 

There's glitter on the floor after the party Girls carrying their shoes down in the lobby Candle wax and Polaroids on the hardwood floor You and me from the night before but Don't read the last page But I stay when you're lost and I'm scared and you're turning away I want your midnights But I'll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's Day

this interpretation is very much like the actual songs interpretation: the desire to stay with someone through the unexciting parts of life, like cleaning up after a party on new years day. additionally, wanting to start something new with someone (being there with them past the midnight kiss and actually starting the first day of the year with them). additionally though, there is the line of “dont read the last page” which refers to the last song on the album, which we will get to. 

Hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you And I will hold on to you Please don't ever become a stranger whose laugh I could recognize anywhere

this is more jaskiers reality. hes torn between holding onto these memories and hopes and actually facing reality. he wants to hold on to geralt, but he also kinda wants to move on. and the last line about the laugh, thats more jaskiers own hope, he hopes that he will come across geralt again and things will work themselves out.

22. the 1 by taylor swift (modern era interpretation)

the decision to make this song the last one on the album was a very last minute decision, and it was written significantly after the rest of the songs. the reason for this was without this last song, the album ends on a note of hope “Please don't ever become a stranger whose laugh I could recognize anywhere” but this last song is more of a reality check and acknowledgment that what's done is done and that it will never be again. 

I'm doing good, I'm on some new shit Been saying "Yes" instead of "No" I thought I saw you at the bus stop, I didn't though

this refers to the fact that its been some time since the whole thing and jaskiers kind of changed a little bit. he claims hes doing good, and maybe is going to try out a new career (since the first song references wanting to put music down for awhile). seeing geralt at the bus stop is a reference to cardigan where he says “chasing shadows in the grocery line” where hes not actively looking for geralt anymore and it doesnt upset him that he didnt see him.

I guess you never know, never know And if you wanted me, you really should've showed And if you never bleed, you're never gonna grow And it's alright now

this is jaskier saying that hes almost glad that it happened because it gave him a new perspective and it was a learning experience. he also says that its alright, which is the second time that hes said hes okay, which probably means he isnt completely, but hes much closer than he was on the rest of the album because hes not still looking for geralt at every turn

I have this dream you're doing cool shit Having adventures on your own You meet some woman on the Internet and take her home We never painted by the numbers, baby But we were making it count You know the greatest loves of all time are over now I guess you never know, never know And it's another day, waking up alone

this is jaskier acknowledging the fact that geralt has probably long since moved on with his life, either with other romantic people or with his life entirely (the first time he does this on the album). he says that while their love or friendship was unconventional it still was definitely something (implying that it may have been one of the greatest loves of his life). and the waking up alone part references quite miss home and being by himself, but it isnt sad, its just a fact at this point.

But we were something, don't you think so? Roaring twenties, tossing pennies in the pool And if my wishes came true It would've been you In my defense, I have none For never leaving well enough alone But it would've been fun If you would've been the one

this is the part where we see that jaskier has grown. hes recognized that his wanting to be with geralt was never anything more than a fleeting wish or a moment that couldn't last. but he knows that it had potential and it could have worked but it didnt and thats okay. in the last chorus the pennies line is “rosé flowing with your chosen family” which implies that he and geralt were close enough to know each others family (chosen or real), meaning that it meant something. and he wouldn't have minded a long term relationship with geralt, but its not what happened.

in new years day jaskier says “dont read the last page” this song is that last page. part of him still doesnt want geralt to know that hes put aside the hope of it working because he wants to still keep himself open for geralt, but knows that  its not healthy and ultimately he needs to move on. hes essentially giving geralt the choice: remember jaskier as wanting to get back with him (since the last line of the album would have been “please dont ever become a stranger who's laugh i could recognize anywhere” or let him have the knowledge that jaskier is done with him (since the official last line of the album is “but it would have been fun if you would've been the one”)

anyway thats jaskiers breakup album. i put way too much effort into this. and if you actually read through the whole thing, thank you and please let me know what you think!! if you use this for fics or have your own interpretations please please tag me, id love to see!!

[darkverrmin]

You I Need

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24258487/chapters/58461253

Hi! So I started a multiple-chapter fic where Geralt and Jaskier realize they have feelings for each other. This is part one, where Jaskier uses his wits and great acting skills to save the Witcher and himself from a certain death. Geralt is impressed. Enjoy!  

***

Stay here. Right here. Don’t move. Don’t do anything. Just let me know if someone’s coming”. Geralt was whispering orders to the bard, peering into the darkness of the duke’s room. They were standing in the dimly lit hallway outside of the nobleman’s chambers, the music and the chatter of the court party heard in the distance.

“You don’t have to instruct me like I’m an idiot”. Jaskier pouted at the Witcher, placing his hands on his hips. “I won’t remind you that it’s thanks to me that you got into this ball in the first place”.

Geralt glanced at the bard, slightly amused. “You just did”. 

Jaskier opened his mouth to voice another complaint, but Geralt beat him to it. “Okay, thank you for your help, but right now, if I don’t find the charm in this bastard’s room, all of this will be for nothing”.

Geralt used aard to break the door’s lock. It was guarded by a spell, weak enough for a Witcher to break it. Jaskier swallowed nervously, running a hand through his hair. This is too risky, he thought to himself. If they get caught sneaking around the duke’s chambers, there’s no doubt that they’ll be executed before morning comes. The duke had quite a reputation of a cruel and impatient man, with many of his subjects and acquaintances disappearing or dying in horrible ways.

And now there was a rumor going on about the duke being in possession of a charm that uses black magic. The rumor came to their ears from a local mage, who told them stories about the duke seducing young women, making them fall in love with him desperately and even killing themselves when the duke got bored of them and kicked them out. Geralt agreed with Jaskier that they had to find this charm and stop him from hurting more people.

Shaking off his thoughts, Jaskier glanced at the Witcher who had one hand on the doorknob. Geralt was staring at him, impatient. “You know what to do? Just call my name if you see someone coming. The guards here look serious, they’ll notice if the lock is broken. If anyone comes, we need to run”.

“Yeah, yeah” Jaskier tried to stop his voice from shaking. “Just be quick”. Geralt nodded silently, slipping into the room and shutting the door behind himself.

Jaskier remained in the hall for what seemed like forever to him. He listened carefully to any sounds of approaching footsteps, badly wishing for Geralt to hurry up. Minutes passed and nothing happened. Jaskier leaned against the wall, sighing and staring at his boots. A woman started singing from across the hall, where the party was still going on. Her voice reminded Jaskier a bit of his mother’s. He smiled to himself, remembering his mother’s sweet singing voice. He felt a sinking feeling in his stomach, when he realized that he couldn’t quite recall the features of her face. He briefly wondered what his mother would think of him right now, creeping into a nobleman’s room with a Witcher. She’d probably laugh and tell him he’s doing the right thing. That’s just the kind of person she was.

The sounds of footsteps and chatter snapped Jaskier out of his thoughts. He turned his head and spotted two guards, coming from around the corner of the long hallway, chatting idly between themselves.

Shit, he thought to himself. Jaskier took a step and quietly knocked on the bedroom’s door. “Geralt” he whispered. “Guards!”.

There was a rustling sound behind the door followed by a low grunting. After what seemed like a long second to the bard, the Witcher spoke. “I found it”.

“Great, great, now let’s get out of here”, Jaskier hissed, glancing back at the guards. They didn’t see him yet, talking between themselves. The hallway was pretty big so he and Geralt could manage to sneak away, if they act quickly. Jaskier moved closer to the door again, to hiss at the Witcher. The door opened right in his face, hitting him hard between the eyes and on the nose. Jaskier saw white. He stumbled back a couple of steps, grabbing at his face. He heard Geralt call his name and felt a big palm grabbing his upper arm and dragging him away.

“Hey!”

Oh shit, Jaskier thought to himself through the stabbing pain in his eyes and nose. He tasted blood on his lips. The guards caught them. Geralt couldn’t bring his swords with him to the court party, so they didn’t have any weapons with them. There was no use to try and fight the guards, the noise would attract the whole damned court to them. They will be dead by the morning. Jaskier needed to come up with something quick.

“Don’t move!” One of the guards called after them. “Turn around!”. Geralt stopped in his tracks. He was still holding Jaskier by the arm. Geralt slowly turned his head. Jaskier had an idea.

Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Jaskier turned around quickly, yanking his arm away from Geralt’s grip. He arched an eyebrow, folding his arms across his chest. “What?” he snapped at the guards, his voice sharp and impatient.

The guards were standing a few feet away, their spears pointed towards them. “Who are you?” The older one called.

Jaskier let out an unkind laugh, shaking his head. He drew his hands to the sides dramatically. “Who am I?” He exclaimed, looking and sounding incredulous. “You don’t know who I am?” He raised his voice, dropping his hands on his hips. “You better change your tone while talking to me, you bastard, or you’re going to regret it!”. Jaskier took a step forward, ignoring the incredulous stare that Geralt was giving him. “And don’t point your fucking spears at me! Idiots!”.

The guards looked startled, one of them slightly lowering his weapon. The older one spoke again. “I’m sorry, sir. But these are the duke’s chambers and we have no idea who you are-” He stumbled with his words, when Jaskier took another step further, giving the guard a murderous look.

“I don’t have time for your bullshit” Jaskier hissed through his teeth. “It’s not my problem if you two goat-fuckers live under a rock and don’t recognize my face”. He placed his hands on his hips again, puffing his chest proudly. “My father is one of the duke’s closest friends. That’s all you need to know. I came here to retrieve something of my father’s, the duke gave me the key to his room. The fucking lock exploded right in my face”. Jaskier was right that the guards probably didn’t know anything about magic, so it was hard for them to determine if he was telling the truth. Jaskier continued, raising his voice. “And now my fucking face hurts and I’m pissed off. So if you clowns bother me again, I’ll make sure to put both of your heads on a spike before sunrise”. With those words, he spat at them. “You disgust me. Now show a lord some respect”. The guards lowered their weapons, slightly bowing before Jaskier. Geralt stared at the scene, wide-eyed.

“Should we get you to a healer, m’lord? How did the lock explode?” The younger one asked Jaskier, raising his head. Jaskier groaned and rolled his eyes, glancing briefly at Geralt. He turned back to the guard, stomping his foot. “Do I look like a fucking mage to you?” he hissed at the guard.

“No, sir. Maybe we should call the duk-”

“Maybe I should order my people to rape your wives and make you watch the whole process before clawing your eyes out with hot fire iron!?” Jaskier roared, slamming his fist on the wall. He didn’t notice the painting in a glass frame hanging on the wall beside him. His fist shattered the glass, warm blood trickling down his forearm. “I THOUGHT I JUST TOLD YOU TO STOP BOTHERING ME” He screamed, furious. Jaskier dragged his injured palm over his face, smearing the blood, and groaned loudly.

He turned on his heels and started to scream at Geralt. “And YOU!”. Geralt would lie for the rest of his life that he didn’t jump at that. Jaskier was staring at him, blue eyes wide and furious, hands drawn to the side, his face smeared in blood. The guards behind him actually took a step back. “What the fuck am I paying you for, you motherfucker!? To stand there with your dick in your hand!? Do something before I tell my father to cut your stupid head off, you big oaf”.

Geralt lowered his head, nodding silently, playing along with Jaskier’s act. “I’m sorry, m’lord”.

“Sorry means shit to me” Jaskier spat. Geralt took a few steps forward, raising his arms apologetically to the guards. “We’re sorry for the trouble, sirs. I need to get my lord to a healer-”

“Trouble?” Jaskier echoed, giggling devilishly. “Say, I wonder why the duke’s lock exploded in my face. Maybe someone has messed with it?” Jaskier glared at the guards again. They both stared back at him, wide-eyed. Jaskier was secretly pleased with the blood on his face, it probably had quite the effect. The older guard spoke up with a shaky voice. “My lord, we were here all evening, no one could have-”

“So it was you,” Jaskier growled, raising an eyebrow.

The older guard was pleading now, pressing his palms together in front of his chest. “We didn’t have anything to do with it, my lord. And we’re so sorry for bothering y-”.

Jaskier cut him off, raising his hand. “Save it”. He took a step forward and gave the younger guard a curious look. The smile spreading itself on Jaskier’s lips was evil. “I don’t care what you have to say. Save it for the duke. I’ll have a chat with him tomorrow morning, tell him exactly what I saw”. He winked, patting the younger guard on the cheek, smearing the blood from his hand onto the guard’s face. The younger guard’s body stiffened and he stared at Jaskier with shaking lips.

Jaskier dropped his hand to the guard’s shoulder, squeezing it painfully. There was Jaskier’s blood on his uniform now, too. Jaskier leaned in closer to the guard’s face, hissing through his teeth. “I better not tell the duke that I was terribly bothered by two of his guards, right? Or you two clowns will be in big trouble”. Both of the guards nodded silently, the younger guard started to shake violently.

Jaskier took a step back and turned away. “Good,” He said in a light tone, “Now fuck off. Oaf! Come here!”. Geralt obeyed, stepping closer and taking Jaskier’s arm. “Take me outside,” Jaskier ordered, yawning. “I need some fresh air. And a fucking healer”.

With that they walked away from the guards, who were still staring at their feet. Geralt and Jaskier turned around the corner, breaking into a run.

*** They ran into the darkness of the forest.

Once they were far enough from the duke’s castle, shielded between the trees, they stopped to catch their breath. Geralt glanced at Jaskier who was leaning against a rock.

“What the fuck was that?” The Witcher asked, breathless, a hint of a smile on his lips. When Jaskier didn’t reply after a few seconds, Geralt continued. “That was fucking impressive”.

Jaskier didn’t reply. Instead, he bent over the rock, spilling out the contents of his stomach. His head spun and his face ached terribly. His legs felt numb and his stomach twisted with anxiety. Closing his eyes and taking deep breaths, he felt a warm weight on his back, rubbing soothingly. “We’re not far from the inn”, Geralt murmured, somewhat of a comfort.

Jaskier took another deep breath and slid down to his knees, gripping the side of his face. “Fuck” he gasped quietly.

“Let me see”. Geralt dropped down on his knees in front of him, gently lifting the bard’s head by the chin. The Witcher snapped his fingers, producing a red-bright flame from his fingertips. Jaskier blinked twice. That was impressive.

“Look at me”. Geralt said, his voice low and soft. Jaskier met the Witcher’s eyes and stared at him silently. Geralt leaned in closer to examine the bard’s face. The flickering flame illuminated the Witcher’s face in a beautiful way, Jaskier thought. It emphasized his sharp features and brought out the soft-gold color of his eyes. Jaskier hoped that Geralt didn’t notice his blush.

Geralt traced his fingers gently over the side of Jaskier’s face, making the bard flinch. “Sorry” Geralt mumbled, “It doesn’t look broken, though”. Geralt locked eye contact with the bard, gazing deep into his eyes. Jaskier felt himself getting lost in the Witcher’s stare. “Your pupils look the same size, so no brain damage” Geralt mumbled. “Probably a concussion”.

Geralt dropped his hand from the bard’s face and distinguished the flame. He ripped a strip of cloth from his shirt, startling Jaskier with the noise. Then Geralt pulled out a small blue bottle from one of his pockets and poured its contents onto the strip of cloth. He folded the cloth in half and brought it close to Jaskier’s face. He started cleaning the bard’s lips and nose, running the cloth gently over his skin. Jaskier closed his eyes and almost leaned into his touch.They stayed silent like that for a couple of minutes, Geralt cleaning the blood of Jaskier’s face. “Sorry” Geralt finally broke the silence. “For the door”.

“It’s okay” Jaskier mumbled back. “It was an accident”.

“Hmm”. Geralt answered, ever so eloquent. He paused cleaning Jaskier’s face, tilting his head to the side. “If it wasn’t for your little act back there, we’d probably be dead already”. Geralt paused again, staring at Jaskier with dark eyes. Then he suddenly gave Jaskier a warm smile, his fangs showing. “Thank you, m’lord” He said, voice low and sweet.

Jaskier chuckled, rolling his eyes fondly. He met Geralt’s stare again, feeling hot in his chest. “I got to admit, screaming at you like that was pretty fun”.

“Hmm” Geralt answered with a smile, looking down and ripping another strip of cloth from his shirt. He poured more of the blue liquid onto the new piece of cloth and took Jaskier’s injured arm by the wrist.

Jaskier smiled brightly, as much as his injured face allowed him to. “You were scared of me back there. I saw you jump”. Geralt placed Jaskier’s hand gently on his own thigh, his palm facing upwards. “Wasn’t scared,” he grunted. “It’s you. You did surprise me though”.

“Guess I’m a great actor”.

“Hmm”. Geralt leaned in and started pulling pieces of broken glass from Jaskier’s palm. Jaskier whimpered at the pain and Geralt shushed him with a “It’s okay, Jas. Almost done”.

Jas? Jaskier tried not to gape at the Witcher, who was attending to his injured hand, fully concentrated. This was a new nickname. He liked it.

Geralt finished taking out the pieces of broken glass and poured some of the blue liquid from the bottle directly onto Jaskier’s injury. Jaskier gasped in pain. “Ouuu- It stings!”.

“That’s the point”.

Geralt then retrieved the piece of cloth and slowly wrapped it around Jaskier’s palm. The liquid had now a pain-killing effect, cool and nice against the bard’s skin. Geralt was already finished with the cloth, but he was still holding Jaskier’s hand with both of his. He traced a thumb over the cloth and over Jaskier’s fingers, deep in thought. Jaskier stared at him, surprised and curious.

Geralt snapped out of his thoughts, letting go of Jaskier’s hand and standing up. “Can you walk?” His voice was sharp, but not unkind.

“I- I think so” Jaskier slowly stood up, before taking a step and stumbling forward. He found himself pressed against the Witcher’s chest, his nose buried in his collarbone. Geralt caught him before Jaskier hit the ground.

Pulling away, but still bracing himself on Geralt’s arm, Jaskier mumbled “Sorry, I’m a little dizzy”.

“Hmm”. Geralt nodded. “Okay. Get on my back”.

Jaskier stared at him. “What?”

Geralt rolled his eyes. “Well, you obviously can’t walk. Swinging you over my shoulder won’t do good to your head. And I’m not carrying you all the way to the inn like some damned bride. So get on my back”.

Jaskier blinked. The Witcher had a point. “Fine” he finally breathed out.

Geralt grunted and turned around. Jaskier climbed on his back, the Witcher slipping both hands under his lower thighs. Geralt’s hands felt strong and warm, even trough the fabric of Jaskier’s pants. Jaskier felt dizzy again and buried his face in Geralt’s hair, wrapping his arms loosely around the Witcher’s neck. Geralt’s hair smelled nice, like grass and oak. “Sorry” Jaskier mumbled against his hair “Hard to keep my head straight”.

“Right”. Jaskier could hear the smile in the Witcher’s voice. “Just don’t throw up on me, or I’m going to kill you”.

“No promises”.

“And don’t fall asleep. I need you awake, I don’t know how bad is your head injury”.

“Okay”.

Geralt started walking and they both fell silent. Jaskier felt his eyes getting heavy and he started to drift off. If he wasn’t on some kind of Witcher painkiller right now, he would probably find the whole situation hilarious, Geralt carrying him on his back. And maybe arousing, as their bodies were pressed together, but he tried really hard not to think about it.

“Jaskier?”

“Yes?” He mumbled sleepily.

“You’re falling asleep”. The Witcher’s voice held more concern than an accusation.

“Sorry, the stuff you poured on my wounds seems to be working”.

“Hmm. Still, I need you to stay awake”. Geralt paused, taking a deep breath. “Maybe you could sing something?”

Jaskier gaped at the Witcher’s neck. He smiled against his hair. “You want to hear me sing, Geralt of Rivia?”

“I want to know you won’t fall asleep and die against my back, that’s all”. Geralt hid his smile behind a curtain of white-silver hair, but Jaskier still noticed it. “So do whatever you want, so I’ll know you’re awake”.

Jaskier started humming a melody, something from his childhood. Geralt felt the bard’s chest vibrating against his back. It was a pleasant sensation. The bard’s voice was soothing, a candle in the darkness surrounding them.

They walked like that for another half an hour, before finally reaching the inn.

[a-kind-of-merry-war]

My dear, I beg of you, continue jaskier and insecure!geralt in the shakespear au, please, you cannot leave me with such a cruel end!

So Geralt is - well - he's Geralt. It's all a lot of old-fashioned bullshit that Witchers don't have emotions but damn do they struggle to get them out.

Or at least, he does.

And it's that same night when he's turning the pages of this book that he realises the roiling in his stomach isn't just concern for his friend and it isn't just the horror of the realisation that Jaskier threw all of that love aside for him -

He's jealous. Jealous of a man from another dimension he'll never even meet.

And he looks back at the time they've spent together and he realises that all these years he's been quietly and secretly in love with the bard and just... never worked it out.

He wants to be better. He wants to do better. But he knows, now, what he has to live up to. What he has to beat.

He tries. He gets Jaskier alone and fumbles over metaphors and flowery imagery, but Jaskier thinks he's taking the piss. He tries to plan something grand but it falls apart and the words don't come.

He's desperate when he attempts to write his feelings down. But its wrong - its all wrong and difficult and gods if only this was a challenge he could defeat with a sword.

He's burning the pages when Jaskier enters their shared room. And Jaskier, of course, immediately realises he's up to something and there on the hearth is a particularly painful attempt at poetry thats only half-charred and still dangerously legible and for a moment Geralt considers wrestling it out of his hand -

But its too late.

And Jaskier's expression is unreadable, his eyebrows knitting together, and he begins

"Geralt, what is-"

"I love you." And there's silence, and for once its Geralt who can't stop talking. "I know about... about him. And why you... why you loved him. I thought..."

He doesn't get a chance to say what it is he thought because Jaskier storms over and shuts him up with a kiss, and a laugh.

"You love me?"

"Yes. But I'm not like him, I can't-"

"You're not him, Geralt. I don't need poetry. I just needed to hear you say it."

[queenxxxsupreme]

Ah I see you’re taking requests 👀 imagine being doused with a lust potion and the only way to save her is for Geralt to have her all night long. Smutty but angsty cuz Geralt feels guilty for having to do it when she’s out of her mind? Especially because he has been pining for her secretly maybe?

A/N: I changed a few minor things up and made it super angst because I can’t help myself. Also tbh I’m new to smut and I don’t know how this is so please give me feedback :) I really hope this is angsty enough

Warnings: smut duh, lust curse, praise kink if you squint, hair pulling, cunnilingus, tell me if I forgot anything because my memory is shit

***

You could hear Geralt and Jaskier just outside of the door to your room. You sat on the edge of the bed, your elbows on your knees and your hands over your face, rocking steadily back and forth. 

The burning in your lower abdomen was driving you insane. Your entirety tingled, begging for attention. You could feel the wetness pooling in your panties, threatening to soak through at any second. You needed to be touched, you needed to be fucked.

Hearing Geralt’s deep voice shout at Jaskier made you moan softly. Your brows drew together as you pushed your thighs together even more in a fruitless attempt to control yourself. Just hearing the witcher made your cunt flood with lust and desire. When the hell would this torture end?

It had been four hours since you three ran into a witch in town who had been putting curses on civilians. The curses varied from hideous deformities to more extreme, more lethal things. One of the poor souls to have crossed the witch died from spontaneous combustion. Another died of gorging herself on food.

You had been lucky enough to be cursed with some sort of lust spell. Geralt could sense it, he could smell it. The spell infected your blood, making you smell sweet and delicious. But it took you a while to feel the effects of the curse. You were fine at first, just a little unsteady on your feet. You and the two men you traveled with returned to the inn you were staying at just in time for the curse hit you like a brick wall.

Out of no where, your throat became dry and your fingers and thighs trembled with anticipation. For what, you weren’t sure. Your mind was too clouded, swarming with a white hot desire.

Right now, Geralt and Jaskier were out in the hallway trying to figure out what to do with you. They couldn’t just leave you in your room alone. The curse would kill you. If not tonight, then eventually. The witch always made sure of it.

Geralt wasn’t too keen on going into your room to babysit you. He wasn’t exactly sure what he’d be walking into, but he didn’t want to risk anything. He didn’t want to ruin the strong friendship between you two.

Jaskier knew it wouldn’t be a good idea for him to be the one in charge of making sure you didn’t die or do something stupid. You were an attractive woman and his self control wasn’t the best. He was a lover, a people pleaser. The second you’d start whining or begging him to do anything, he’d cave in and potentially kill you or himself–or both–all because of the damned curse.

You stood to your feet and paced across the room. Your hand cupped your sensitive breast through the thin silk material of your nightgown. You needed to feel something. You were desperate. You’d do anything to get release. You growled in frustration and put your hand by your side. Fuck witches. Fuck magic. Fuck all of them.

The door opened and Geralt stepped in. His scent hit your nose almost instantly and vertigo claimed your balance. You braced yourself against the wooden dresser, your head turning to look at the witcher.

“How do you feel?”

Like I’m on fucking fire and you’re the water. Put me the fuck out, you bastard.

“Fine.” You gritted through clenched teeth, tearing your hungry gaze away from him. Your thoughts weren’t yours, but in a sense they were. You had felt something for the witcher since you met him. He’d saved your life and ever since, you’d hopelessly fallen for him.

You closed your eyes tightly. You rubbed your thighs together again. This time you tried to get some sort of pressure on your throbbing sex. You needed release or you feared your body would explode.

“Leave.” Instead of the word coming out strong and stern, it was a soft plea.

“I can’t do that, Y/N.” He shook his head.

“I-I don’t want you to see me like this.” You brought your hand up to cover your mouth as you nearly moaned at the sound of his voice.

If his voice could do that to you, just imagine what his massive cock could–

“Please, Ger-Geralt.”

“I am here for you, Y/N, to ensure that you don’t hurt yourself.”

You shook your head. Your entirety trembled, vibrating as you struggled to control yourself. Your body wanted to move, to dash across the room and throw yourself on the monstrous man with the intoxicating scent, a delicious mixture of man and earth. But you had just enough control to stay where you were.

“Did you find that fucking witch?” Your voice shook just as bad as your body.

“Yes. In order…. In order to break the curse, you’ll need to bed someone.” He muttered out, clearly a little embarrassed.

Hot tears burned your vision. They were tears of need, a need so violent that you weren’t sure what to do.

“I’m not going to fuck some bastard just because the curse is making me feel like this.”

You were pretty sure you just lied through your teeth. Should the intensity of the curse get any strong, you knew you’d go downstairs to the tavern and find someone to release you from the curse.

“You-You can’t stay.” You whispered, stiffly shaking your head. “If-If you stay…. I can’t promise that I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

Geralt furrowed his brows together and locked his jaw. If you didn’t bed with someone, you were going to die. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t think of you as more than a friend. You were extraordinary. Your were tough and aggressive when needed. You’d easily scare any man who dared to approach you with ill-intentions. However when you looked at him, your gaze softened and twinkled.

But he also admired your physique, the way your nightgown hugged your curves, how your hardened nipples stuck out through the thin silk of your gown. He loved the way your ass moved when you walked away from him. You shook your hips a little more than necessary when he was watching you.

“Fuck, Geralt.” The whine left your lips without your permission. You were going mad. You pushed yourself away from the dress and crossed the room. He stayed in his spot, amber eyes watching you carefully. You only stopped when you stood toe to toe with the witcher. Your hands came up to his chest but just before you could feel him up, his large hands wrapped around your wrists. You moaned at the feeling of skin to skin contact. The desperation you felt would’ve made you sick had you not been under the curse.

Your pained eyes met his and your brows furrowed together.

“Please, Geralt. Please.” You were breathless just from being this close to him. “If-If you-If you don’t, I will die.”

A growl rested in the back of his throat at the thought of you dying. But he restrained himself from doing what you asked of him. It didn’t feel right to bed you, not while you were under this spell. Surely you didn’t feel anything towards except the primal need to fuck.

“I can’t do that to you, Y/N.”

“Yes you can!” You leaned into his chest, your eyes closing tightly as you tried to breathe correctly. “You-You do it with wenches all the damn time! Why am I any different?”

“Because you are my friend and you aren’t in control of yourself right now. It would be taking advantage of you.” Geralt was almost proud of himself for how much self-control he managed to have. The room was thick with arousal, your arousal and desire.

“You aren’t taking advantage of me if I want this! I-I’ve wanted this for ages, Geralt. I’ve wanted you to fuck me like dirty little whore.”

His breath hitched. You ducked your head down so that you could reach his hand that was latched to your wrist. You nipped at his fingers and moaned at the taste.

“You aren’t in the right state of mind, Y/N.”

“The hell I am!” You jerked against his iron grip but you would’ve had better luck pushing a brick wall than getting him to release you. “Ask Jaskier! The damned bard knows exactly how I feel about you. He knows that I long to be the one you take to bed, the one you hold while you sleep.”

His silence did nothing to help your situation. You let out a pained cry as a surge of what felt like electricity courses through you. Your knees buckled and you would have fallen had Geralt not grabbed you. He steadied you on your feet, his hands releasing your wrists.

“You want this?”

“Yes! Fuck, yes, Geralt.” You placed your hand on the front of his trousers where his semi hard cock was. He inhaled sharply at your sudden actions. “I need you to fuck me hard, witcher.”

Geralt tore your hand away from him and in the same instant he pushed you back on to the bed. You giggled triumphantly. You rubbed your thighs together and bit you bottom lip, watching as he practically tore his tunic shirt off.

He climbed on to the bed to hover over you. One of his hands propped himself up next to your head while the other held your face so he could kiss you deeply, sensually. You almost cried at the delicious feeling of his lips on yours. It was euphoric, heavenly. Your hand came up to tangle in his white hair, tugging softly to urge him to do more.

“I’m sorry it has to be this way.” He pulled away just enough to whisper those words against your lips.

“Don’t be sorry. You’re saving my life.” Your lips left his to leave kisses along his scratchy jaw. The burn between your legs had subsided when he first kissed you, but now it was slowly returning.

He took his hand away from your face so he could use the pad of his index finger to trail a line from your lips down your neck and finally to your breasts. The nightgown you wore had a low cut neck so he was able to push the neckline down and underneath the curve of your breasts. The cold air hitting your nipples made your back arch off the bed. Your hand found his bicep, squeezing him tightly.

“Please, Geralt.”

“Patience, dove.” He breathed into your ear and then began to kiss down the side of your neck. He found your pulse just beneath your jaw and teasingly nipped at the sensitive skin. You jolted, lips parting with a moan.

The fire between your thighs grew but the rest of your body was content with his attention on your breasts. His teeth bit at your sensitive skin. The material to your nightgown was being pulled up to reveal your drenched panties.

“Geralt, fuck.” Your fingers fisted the linens. “Fuck, I-I can’t wait.”

“I just need to make sure you’re ready for me, dove.” He took ahold of the waistband of your panties and easily ripped the thin material. You gasped at the tingling sensation it left behind.

His mouth continued its gentle assault on your tit, teeth dragging across your nipple. His hand between your legs tentatively dipped into your soaking core. You cried out as he stuck his thick index into you. Your hips bucked for more, begging him to do more. He sat back on his knees next to you. His hand withdrew from your heat. He grabbed your legs behind the bend of your knees and turned you on the bed so that he was between your parted legs. One of his hands pinned your hips to the mattress while his opposite went back to your cunt. The rough pad of his fingertips against your clit made you jump, but he kept you in place.

“Fuck, dove. You’re soaked.” He breathes out. Liquid amber eyes gazed at your core with hunger.

“All for you, Geralt.” You whined pitifully.

“Good girl.” He smirked devilishly. He worked his index in and out of you, enjoying the way you’d mewl or whine because it wasn’t enough. He added another finger. His opposite hand came down so that his thumb could rub your clit. His massive hand still held your hips down as he rubbed lazy circles into the most sensitive part of you. Your knees bent just slightly and your legs spread wide, urging him to take her.

Your head fell to the side, your fingers tightening even more around the linens. The heat in your stomach was intense, growing the more he worked you with his thick rough fingers. Your orgasm was coming and Geralt could see that. His fingers suddenly left your cunt and you whimpered at the loss. Your heart hammered in your chest as you tried to get yourself to relax. You could feel your heart against your rib cage, begging to be freed.

Geralt hooked his hands beneath your knees and pushed them closer to your chest, revealing your entirety to him. Had you not been so clouded by desire and need, you’d be a little embarrassed at how carnal his gaze was as he admires your pretty, slick folds.

His eyes flickered up to meet yours as he lowered himself to be level with your cunt. He hummed deep from within his chest, almost like he was purring with content. He licked a hot stripe up your slit. His eyes shut as your taste envelopes him.

One of your hands left the linens to tangle in his hair. Just as he sucked sharply on your swollen clit, you tugged at his white hair. He moaned deeply, the vibrations from the moan could be felt on your heat as he continued his delicious assault on your cunt. He kept you in place on the bed, refraining you from bucking up against him no matter how hard you tried.

One of his hands left its position on the back of your knee so that he could slide two fingers into your soaking cunt. You whined, your fingers curling tighter around his hair. He moved quick, his thick digits filling the emptiness inside while his lips and tongue worked on your clit.

You were blindsided by you orgasm, your toes curling and your back arching off the bed. Your eyes closed tightly and you bit your bottom lip. As wave after wave of pleasure coursed through you, his actions became softer, working you through your climax. Your body trembled, muscles convulsing as you moaned his name.

He pulled away and smirked just a little, watching your chest rise and fall with every heavy breath. Your eyes slowly opened and you met his gaze.

“Good girl.”

The praise sent a new wave of tingling sensations through your body. The burning in your abdomen returned, causing you to whine softly. He worked to undo his trousers and push them down just enough to free his massive cock. You moaned, your mouth watering at the sight. You sat up, using one hand to hold yourself that way while your opposite reached out to take his thick length. You didn’t even get a chance to touch his beautifully hard member before Geralt’s fingers wrapped around yours, tugging your hand away from him.

“Not now.”

“But I want to, Geralt.” You pleaded. You desperately wanted to taste him, to feel his heavy length on your tongue.

“Next time.” He murmured gently, bringing his hand up to cup your face. His thumb brushed across your flushed cheek, admiring the pink tinge that came from your orgasm.

You turned your head to take his thumb between your teeth, sucking and moaning softly. He grunted at the action and didn’t dare to move his hand. His opposite hand came up to wrap around his girth. He pumped himself a couple times, then tapped the swollen head of his cock against your opening. You jolted each time, your oversensitive cunt leaking even more for him.

He pulled his thumb from your mouth, brushing the wet pad over your lips. You me lips fell open in a whiny moan as he pushed the head of his length into your cunt. The burning in your abdomen was briefly replaced with a stinging pain that came with being stretched open by his huge cock. Your brows furrowed together and tears pricked your vision. Your eyes closed. Geralt put one hand on your thigh, holding your leg to his hip. His other hand held the side of your neck. He dipped his head down to put his lips beside your ear, whispering softly in encouragement. He moved gently in and out of you, working more of his length into you little by little.

“You’re such a good girl for me, dove. Taking me in your tight cunt.”

“Fuck.” You cursed through gritted teeth as his pelvis met yours. He was sheathed fully inside of you, your walls fluttering and pulsating around him. He breathed heavily through his nose, pressing his lips to your damp forehead. Your hand came up to hold his bicep, fingers curling into the muscular flesh. The pain was subsiding but your legs were tingling from the stillness. “Move.”

He pulled out all the way and carefully pushed back in. This happened a few more times before you laid back on the bed and brought your hand down to your cunt. Before you got a chance to rub your needy clit, he knocked your hand out of the way. His thumb brushed tight circles against you.

“Harder.” You begged, your hand still holding his opposite bicep. “Please.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” His voice was shaky. It was taking every ounce of self control he had not to fuck you like he desired.

“Please, Geralt!” You cried out, bucking your hips against him. He grunted, his hand leaving your cunt to hold your hips own. “Fuck me like the whore I am. Please.”

“You’ll tell me if I hurt you?”

“Fuck! Yes! Yes, I will!”

Geralt was conflicted. He didn’t want to hurt you, especially with your mind being hazy from the curse. But you wanted this, and admittedly he did too.

He took your hands and pulled you into his lap, his cock still buried deep inside you. His thick arms wrapped around you, encasing you in his sweaty, protective hold. You took the chance to kiss his jaw, moaning at the tingling of his scruff against your sensitive lips.

He began to thrust up into you, his fingers digging into your thigh and your hip. The dirty squelching sound of his cock pushing back into your soaked cunt filled the room. You bit his bottom lip, urging him to kiss you.

His tongue slipped into your mouth and you gladly took it, enjoying the taste of him. His grip on your skin was sure to leave bruises as he held you where he wanted you, thrusting in and out at a rapid pace.

Suddenly, you were falling backwards on to the bad, a little yelp of surprise escaped your lips followed by a breathy moan as his thick cock slipped from your folds. He hooked one arm underneath your knee and moved so that he was laying over you. He held you open, exposing you to him as he lined himself up to your dripping cunt.

In one swift push, he sheathed himself inside of you. He swallowed your moans as he latched his lips to yours. You’re almost there, on the verge of coming undone beneath the witcher. Your nails claw at his skin, leaving red, angry raised lines.

“Come on, dove. Be a good girl for me. Cum for me.” He panted out against your lips. Your head falls back, bearing your neck to him as you moan and allow the orgasm to wash over you. Your body trembled and twitched in his arms. His teeth bit at your pulse as he worked you through the orgasm, chasing his own in the process.

You chanted his name like a quiet prayer, holding him cas close as possible. With one final thrust, he spilled his load deep inside you. You whined at the feeling of his hot cum in your tight cunt. You squeezed and milked everything he had to offer, savoring the feeling.

He buried his face in your neck, his breath hot and tingly on your skin. Your finger loosen on his back and your body slowly untenses. His softening cock slipped from you, causing a little whine to escape your lips. You could feel the mixture of your juices and his cum dripping from your used cunt.

He rolled off of you and on to his side. His eyes stuck to you, watching the way you tried to even your breathing.

“How do you feel?” His voice was quiet and husky.

“Better.” A lazy, dazed smile crossed your lips. You turned your head to look at him. The cloudiness was gone. You could think straight. “Thank you.”

He gave you a half hearted smile, one that made your stomach twist. It wasn’t real.

“I’m sorry.” You apologized quietly, looking back to the ceiling.

“You did nothing wrong.” He gently shook his head.

“I-I practically made you do that.” Your voice broke down to a feeble whisper. You turned your head away from him. Your chest tightened with an unfamiliar pain. You feared you were going to lose him because of this. “I’m-I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t make me do a damn thing.”

When you didn’t look at him, he put his hand on your cheek and made you look at him.

“My only regret is that you regret this.”

You shook your head, brows furrowing together. Your gaze met his amber eyes.

“I-I don’t regret this. I mean-I don’t regret doing it with you. I just wish it was under different circumstances.“ You turned over on your side to face him. You brought your hand up to cradle his stubbled jaw. You admired the dark and graying stubble, the way it softly burned your skin. “I’ve fancied you for as long as I’ve known you.”

He grumbled deep within his chest, a sound of disagreement.

“You think I’m lying to you?” You quirked a brow up. When he said nothing, you leaned over to softly kiss his lips. This one was different than the previous ones you shared with the witcher. This was gentle and lazy. You were no longer chasing an orgasm. You were just there. “I was honest earlier when I said you could ask Jaskier of my feelings towards you.” You placed your head on his chest. “I just wish our first time had been more romantic.”

His hand came to rest on your lower back, his thumb tracing circles into your warm skin.

“Romance is overrated.” He assured you, leaning down to kiss the top of your head.

Taglist: @riviawitch3r​ @rosyghosty​ @itsallyouhavegotinsideyourhead​ @lalalalemonade11​ @tshuuls​ @jennylovelyheart​ @queen-sands​

p.s. if I didn’t tag you and you want to be added to the NSFW Witcher taglist I’ve got, let me know. On the same note if you don’t want to be added to the NSFW Witcher taglist let me know. When some of you said you wanted to be added to a taglist you either said both or said taglists so I just want to make sure that I’ve everyone where they are suppose to be :)