#Geralt having an existential crisis

[feral-harpy]

I really want more fanfics of Jaskier saving geralt from some Bandits / Nobleman / other by lying that he is his witcher and wouldn't hurt anyone without his permission. And then he would have to prove it.

The whole time Geralt is planing how they could get out of this situation until he hears Jaskier calling him his and everything freezes while he feels his heart hammering in his chest. And in his mind he is like Fuck. He definetly felt something when Jaskier said that.

[thedemonofcat]

A unicorn will come to those who have a pure heart. Contrary to popular belief, a pure heart doesn’t necessarily mean a virgin maiden.

When it’s revealed that Jaskier was once a unicorn in human form, it sparks various reactions. Ciri is intrigued and wants to see Jaskier’s true form, while Yennefer finds it amusing and explains why Jaskier didn’t like her when they first met.

Meanwhile, Geralt is grappling with an existential crisis about his own identity. He realizes that Jaskier, who approached him in that bar years ago, not only sought him out but also has feelings for him. Geralt doubts whether he himself has a pure heart.

[the-desilittle-bird]

A part 2 for Never Yours in the works? 🙏🏼😂

AN- And Yes! I am alive. Sorry for going on a hold but I had some existential crisis over my writing skills. And even now, I feel that this piece is not good enough.

Also, I have added a few more characters. So, have a look and if anyone wants to request something then go ahead. Also all the requests I already have in my inbox will be posted soon.

So now, here it goes...

Thank you and Enjoy your reading!

The Dragon of North

Daemon Targaryen x Niece!Reader;

Cregan Stark x Wife!Reader

Part 1

Summary- And all begins to fallout as the Dance begins to start...

Tag List- @minaxcarter, @eliseline, @blackhoodlea, @little-moonbeam-666, @neenieweenie, @omgsuperstarg, @avalyaaa, @shopping, @bbgmonsay, @michelle-26, @krokietinio, @hc-geralt-23, @chevelledahuman, @thekayarlene, @narcy, @helloitsshitzulover, @muushwrites, @daringboba, @bi2simps, @issybee0611, @yariany02, @agathe, @5moremin, @candypurplebutterfly, @saraelizabeth26, @moon-light1415, @targaryenmoony, @stargaryenx, @instabul, @shine101, @hyacinthus007, @mcam623, @eudximoniakr, @carissa_griffin7777, @marvelescvpe, @severewobblerlightdragon, @deltamoon666, @thatgirlthatreadswattpad, @ultrav0lence, @savagemickey03, @sunmoon-01, @literishdegree99, @watercolorskyy, @Lady-Juliettes, @cherryaemond, @chaotic-fangirl-blog, @nats-whore

Warnings- Westeros politics and Daemon being himself

GIF Credits to @thequeenwechoose

Staying in the King's Landing never felt more discomforting than now for (Y/N). It had been near to two full weeks that she, along with her family, resided in the Maegor's Keep and to avoid both her sister and her former lover was becoming next to impossible.

Cregan had noticed, and queried time and again, every passing night as to what ails her; what makes her disappear in thin air when either of her sister or uncle appears in the sight.

(Y/N) wanted to tell him all as it is. The truth. But she knew what would happen if the truth came out. Her family will break as the poison of doubt will creep gradually; sinking its teeth deep into Cregan's mind.

The princess turned when she heard the sound of her name, Alicent held a soft smile as she sipped on her tea, the sun casting a bright glow on her face, accentuating her features a bit; but Alicent was a pretty lady from the beginning, sometimes making the princess envious of her, but their beauties were also different.

"Yes, my queen?" She replied in a light voice, her eyes drifting of to where Aemma conversed with Aemond while Daemon and Viserys played with the eldest son of Alicent; the firstborn son her father and the king.

"I was wishing to speak to you about a proposal," the Queen says calmly, twisting to face the Lady of the North, who does the same once she realizes that whatever is about to come is important, if not urgent.

"Aemond and Aemma makes a good pair."

(Y/N) turned to glance at her child; her eldest daughter. Her dark hair where braided back in a loose Northern braid, keeping the tresses away from her grey eyes which resembled her father's. Aemma was the representation of her paternal house; the Northern beauty residing in each single feature of her.

"I understand what you speak of, my queen. But this decision is not only mine to make," the mother of six said gently, her violet eyes genuine just as her smile as she gave the Queen's hand a comforting squeeze.

"Of course, my princess. Lord Cregan has every right to own about the matters of his daughter's betrothal," Alicent said with a soft, polite smile, returning her gaze back to the place where their children played in harmony.

Bran and Allaric were in the nursery which belonged to (Y/N) when she was a baby. The entire decor had been based on the colours of her house; red and black with dragon motifs here and there.

"My queen, if you don't mind, can I leave? I should go and find my lord husband," (Y/N) said, leaving the comforts of the cushioned chair to see where her husband is. "Of course, I have no issues, my lady."

With a polite bow of her head, the Dragon of the North strided confidently in the direction of the Small Council's chamber. She had a vague idea that Cregan would be discussing the upcoming winter and trades with her father and the Hand.

Taking a turn, a hand clasped over her mouth, dragging her to a dark corner while she withered violently, trying to escape from the death grip on her waist.

"Easy, zaldrīzes." (dragon)

The hand from her mouth was removed and (Y/N) turned to meet the identical violet eyes of her uncle. His hand still held her waist while the empty one cupped the side of her neck, caressing like lulling her to a sweet sleep.

"Skoriot naejot, ñuha zaldrītsos?" (Where to, my little dragon) He whispered, his breath caressing the skin stretching over her cheeks, warming it delightfully. His hand from her waist traveled up to her cheek, soft yet firm in its place, just as she remembered.

"Cregan might be in the Small Council's chamber," she whispered back, her eyes taking him in slowly, biting her lips as the moments spent in intimacy fogged her mind; outweighing her better judgment of just pulling away.

"Kostagon ao daor emagon iā moment syt aōha kepus?" (Can you not have a moment for your uncle?) He asked, his blonde hair caressing her ears delicately. He had always took pride in his long hair, always caring for it just as he did for Caraxes.

Before (Y/N) could speak of anything, the distant voice of her husband made her step away; her breath heavy and deep as she tried to compose herself.

Daemon ran his hand through his long hair, eyes darkening with frustration as a scowl appeared on his face; definitely not at all happy with the spell of the moment being broken.

"My love," the dragon princess found herself greeting her husband with a small smile, her hand slipping into his larger one as he leaned down for a kiss on her cheek, a silent whisper caressing the skin: "my dragon".

"Young love."

The scoff from Daemon was hardly concealed by the fake cough of his, but his act was only rewarded by his weak brother before the king turned to his daughter and good son; the Lord and Lady of Winterfell.

"I hope your discussions were pleasant," the lady said with a small smile; doing her best to make a short conversation before departing for her chambers in the considerably quiet wing of the Maegor's Keep.

"Indeed, my lady. This winter would be easier with the aids our king promises to provide," Cregan admitted, squeezing their intertwined hands in a soft way of reassurance. His grey gaze caressed her face softly; like the most expensive silk on a skin.

"I am glad we could help, my lord," Viserys said with a smile before a fit of coughs embraced him. Leaning heavily on the wall, the king tried to suppress the heavy coughing but to no avail would it go.

"Call the maester," Daemon ordered, rushing to his brother's side as he softly helped his brother upward while (Y/N) rubbed her father's back in an attempt to comfort him, but it seemed that nothing worked.

"(Y/N), you go, I shall see to it that he is well."

"But kepus-"

"-Go."

"Queen Alicent proposed something to me today."

The Wolf Lord looks up from the book he acquired from the Royal Library. The extensive collection of rare and precious books enabled him to find some which one could never find in the North; and being the husband of the Dragon Princess, nobody would deny him the books.

"And what did she propose?"

His features softened as he watched her dear wife with a keen eye. Her platinum blonde hair cascaded down her back in perfect soft curls; her violet eyes soft and unwavering as she glanced at him through mirror while combing the last of her tresses.

"She wishes for Aemma to be betrothed to Aemond. A way to unite our houses," (Y/N) said, standing up from the vanity as she softly made her way to their shared bed.

"Unite the North to the Crown or unite you with her family?" Cregan queried, placing the book down on his side as his lady wife crawled to him. "I am not sure," she hummed, situating her face on his chest while his hands came in contact with her soft locks of snow.

"Then let us not dwell on it yet."

[ivashkovadrian]

a creation for every month of 2022

post your favorite or most popular post from each month this year (it’s okay to skip months).  

i was tagged by the absolutely great @yenvengerberg, thank you so much for thinking of me for this 🥺 i still cannot believe we’re friends for you truly are a fantastic person AND the most talented person on this website. sending you all my love and my best wishes for the new year to come 💖 (oops this turned into a love letter but i don’t care). i had fun doing this last year so let’s goooo, and have an existential crisis over the amount of time spent on photoshop. just like last year, i’m blending in with edits i made for sourceblogs

january (aka the month i didn’t think i’d partake in Yen week but finally did because i was stuck at home with c*vid)

favorite: yenskier in s2 + pink most popular: every friend group should have...witcher edition

february

favorite: words are like arrows graphic most popular: the kingsguard pre-ASOIAF era

march

favorite: yenralt: she’s smart, beautiful and can kick my ass most popular: yennefer + Don’t Trust Me lyrics

april

favorite: kanthony + senses most popular: wet Anthony

may

favorite: pride and prejudice + lilac/sand (honorary mention: Violet Bridgerton’s s2 outfits) most popular: pride and prejudice + dark blue/gold

june

favorite: team dragonstone most popular: witcher ladies: violence IS the answer (also my favorite tbh)

july

favorite: Triss Merigold + blue/pink (honorary mentions: Fringilla x Fran enemies to “partners” and witcher ladies fighting in dresses) most popular: Triss Merigold + marigold

august

favorite: Maiden-Made-Of-Light graphic (honorary mention: Violet Bridgerton’s teal and sand outfit) most popular: Yennefer: rough yet gentle

september

favorite: Arianne Martell desert gifset most popular: fuck the rich...please. kanthony edition

october

favorites (ex-aequo): everyone has a little bit of Geralt in them...(coping with Henry leaving the role) and Yenralt + Ships in the Night most popular: Kate Sharma’s sunset gown

november

favorite: Rosaline + Pride&Prejudice parallels most popular: southern locations of Westeros

december

favorites (ex-aequo): House Martell family tree (that one...) and Geralt: darling deadly boy most popular: eloquent Jaskier

tagging (no pressure ofc!): @zoya-nazyalenskys @harrenhals @lady-arryn @ughmerlin @castlesrichards @arthurpendragonns @keirahknightley @mxrisacoulter @redbelles @something-more

[jotiko]

I'm a sucker for Witcher!Jaskier who abandons the Path to be a bard instead but after the Mountain he is tempted to "Kill" the everyone's favourite bard to distance himself from the memories of his travels with Geralt.

He finally does it couple of months later when Nilfgaardian soldiers try to capture him. He kills them, retrieves his Witcher gear*, and then makes sure the rumor of the bard's demise spreads far and wide

*He doesn't wear any insignia and does his best to hide his swords as well, trying to stay as much under the radar as possible

He is back on the Path and within a month he runs into Ciri. He is petty enough not to do anything about it at first, she is after all Geralt's child surprise. But he is not petty enough to let her die or be captured by Nilfgaard when he sees them attack her. Jaskier saves Ciri and well. It's not like he can just tell a child to fuck off now. They start traveling together, Jaskier deciding that taking her to Kaer Morhen is probably the best bet.

They don't make it to the Keep together. One day, in a village not that far from the Keep, they run into Geralt. Well, Ciri runs into him, Jaskier is off on a job in nearby woods. He has left Ciri in a small apothecary of an old lady who hired him. Geralt is there to replenish some herbs. She tells him she's been traveling with a man who promised to help her find Geralt which is why they were so near the Keep. Geralt is on high alert, but when the man doesn't return after several days, they leave for Keep alone

Jaskier for his part is very aware of Geralt as soon as he is done with the hunt. He starts walking in the opposite direction of the village and only turns back because he sees injured Eskel and has a bad feeling and he wants to make sure Ciri will be fine. He makes it to the Keep just in time to save the day (no one dies). Geralt is very confused

Jaskier also punches Geralt in the face for his assholery (I am living vicariously through this) He also promises to kill him if he hurts Ciri ❤️

Jaskier doesn't leave only because Ciri asks him to stay and he helps train her, finding Wolves' methods stupid and wrong. Like, Ciri is not a big muscly witcher and never will be as strong physically as Wolves and they can't just ignore that. Jaskier, despite having witcher strength, is also not very big and thus has always relied more on his agility rather then physical strength and privately teaches Ciri his fighting style. She does win a sparing fight against Geralt (even if part of the reason is his surprise and inability to predict her moves; it's the only fight she wins against him without using any magic)

[demivampirew]

[cherryjuicegf]

"tugging on the bottom of someone’s shirt" for geraskier

thanks for the prompt!! so, uh, i realized halfway writing this that i'm not sure i interpreted it quite right but there's tugging and there's fluff so how wrong can it be? 👉🏼👈🏼

17. tugging on the bottom of someone’s shirt

The leaves crunched on the ground as Geralt stepped into the clearing. Jaskier was sitting against a tree and scribbling on his notebook, somehow furiously if Geralt looked closer, but he didn't raise his head. He didn't need to. He knew it was Geralt and he knew he was not hurt, from the way his steps went on lightly on the ground and the way he didn't say a word, just proceeded to unbuckle the straps of his armour and leave it on the ground.

Geralt peered at him for some minutes, doubting that the paper would remain whole under Jaskier's burning pen. He raised an eyebrow. "Everything okay?" The answer didn't come immediately. He approached the bard and stood above his head, trying to decipher the words on the paper. When Jaskier didn't answer again, he nudged him slightly with his foot. "Jaskier."

"Hmm," Jaskier thought for a second, then paused and raised his head abruptly, as if just perceiving the question. "Yeah, all good." He wrote some last messy and unfinished notes, stopped, stared at them and, after a short hum, he ripped the sheet off the notebook and aggressively tore it to pieces. Then looked at Geralt again and smiled widely. "Actually no, everything's shit."

Geralt huffed a laugh and took off his glove to run his hand through Jaskier's soft hair. Jaskier leaned into the touch. "Jaskier the Bard, finally out of words?"

Jaskier chuckled and shook his head. "I'm afraid, yes." He heaved a deep sigh and rested his head on the tree trunk. "I haven't written anything new for days. I don't know any words. I can't speak, Geralt! It's terrible!"

"Well," Geralt smiled at the bard's dramatics and nodded. "I'll wash the guts off and tell you about the hunt. Maybe get you some inspiration." He playfully shuffled his hair and turned to head to the stream, when he felt a light tug on the bottom of his shirt. He turned his head, amber eyes meeting bright blue, and Jaskier smirked at him with raised eyebrows. "What about getting me some now?"

He shook his head with a snort and made to leave again but Jaskier didn't let go of his shirt. He sighed. "I'm bloody all over, Jaskier."

"Geraalt, come on," the bard pouted at him and tugged again, this time harder. "Only a kiss."

Geralt hummed and rolled his eyes fondly. "Only a kiss." He kneeled and pressed his lips against Jaskier's, soft and loving, only the moment he tried to pull away Jaskier went deeper into the kiss and put his hand on his nape and, really, who was he to say no to a bit more?

It was only a kiss after all.

He couldn't tell how he ended up curled on Jaskier's lap or how his bloody shirt had come off. The only thing he knew was that his lips were now swollen and still, he couldn't break the kiss, and Jaskier was warm and laughing against his lips and kissing and kissing and the sun was burning his back, and as he pinned Jaskier against the tree with he suddenly felt the need to breathe after what felt like an eternity, and finally, although just inches, he drew back. He gazed at the bard all over, blushing cheeks and hazy eyes, and tilted his head. "Was that any helpful?"

Jaskier smiled a drunken smile and gently bumped their noses together. "More than enough."

send me prompts✨

[roughentumble]

meanwhile jaskier is having the time of his LIFE with this first encounter, he's so excited. he's ready for adventure, he wants to see the stars! aliens actually exist holy shit!!!! and this one is tall and sexy and kind oooo!!!!!! completely shocking whirlwind day for jaskier. he brings his iPhone but quickly goes out of range for earth's wifi 😔

[proheromidoriyashouto]

Jaskier who is losing his eye sight because someone cursed him to stop eyeing their wife and ope guess he can’t see anybody now, and wants a sight hound but he kept putting it off because acknowledging it would make it real but he’s reached the point of no return and for all that he is a rising star at Oxenfurt University he is from a rich family, naive, and easy to trick so a mage sells him a straight up barghest they bred like noble ladies breed lapdogs except this is a chaos beast. a post-conjunction freak. a vaguely dog shaped crime against nature.

and it LOVES Jaskier. just LOVES all the smooches and scritches from this man who does not smell of fear or intent to harm. LOVES roasted mutton bone dinner treats for being a “good girl”. LOVES snuggling with a guy who can’t tell its not a hairless dog but actually A Problem For City Living. and all it has to do is keep the hand that feeds it happy, by doing tasks, and safe, mostly from himself.

it is smarter than any actual dog due to mage intervention in its domestication so it understands this trade off is pretty sweet. cats have got this “adopt a two-leg idiot thing” right.

and the University keeps trying to hire Witchers to deal with it, but they have to meet Jaskier, and Jaskier LOVES his big cuddly dog and LOVES the idea of Big Strong Monster Hunters coming to talk. and the Witchers are just like “That’s a monster, young man.“ and Jaskier says, “She’s my puppy and I have enough money to make you go away.”

and the Witchers initially think this is a threat, but Jaskier just writes them a bank note for REDONKULOUS amounts of coin to fuck off and let me live please and since it hasn’t hurt anyone or even growled at the Witchers themselves and with Witchers being so dirt fucking poor most of them just fuck right off and live it up a little bit, only noting in their journals to keep an ear out for this kid in the future with no idea how that’s going to come to pass

some Witchers even try the old come-back-in-a-different-get-up-trick to try and get more money off this clearly rich sucker, but Jaskier remembers the sound of their voices and, as fascinated by Witchers as he is, brings up things they’ve told him and is just generally a good host and kind person to them so they feel bad trying to scam the blind kid and leave before having an existential crisis about it

until the Wolves hear about it. and they have too much moral backbone to just let it go. this college idiot may think that throwing around his family money is enough to get his way but they are going to disabuse him of this notion before people start dying or the beast begins spreading its’ affliction to actual dogs.

they send Geralt. which is a mistake. because he agrees to allow Jaskier to come with him to find and identify the mage that sold him the barghest and just leads to twenty years of shenaniganry because they. can. not. find. this snakeoil sales man.

except Jaskier thinks he’s just been traveling with his two very best friends in the whole wide world, writing songs depicting Witchers as heroes and the best of men, being guided by a post-Conjunction monster the entire time.

it isn’t until someone points out the obvious solution of trying to cure Jaskier’s curse instead, rendering the need for a sight hound moot to begin with, that things begin to fall to pieces.

Jaskier begins to feel like he’s losing Geralt. wonders if Geralt ever saw him as the friend that Jaskier felt they had become or if he’s just been a contract the Witcher has humored the entire time. which is not helped by the events of the King Niedamir’s Mountain.

and then someone commits the cardinal sin of pointing out that Jaskier’s “Seeing Eye Dog“ has no eyes itself. it’s been “seeing” for him and his non-functioning eyes out of its non-existent eyes for their entire acquaintance.

Jaskier remains in complete denial about it even after being granted his sight again. “Her eyes are just closed. You wouldn’t get it, she’s pedigree, Geralt. Of course she doesn’t resemble any mutt off the street. She has papers.”

[doiponderordoiwander]

I need Geralt to go through approximately 37 existential crisis’ when Jaskier and Yennefer start jokingly calling each other my wife and my husband because have they always been married? Did they just get married? Is Geralt a home wrecker?? Can he even technically be called a home wrecker if he slept with both Yennefer and Jaskier? Should he ask Ciri? Ciri would know right???

And not once does Geralt even think to consider that Yen and Jaskier might be fucking with him and Yen and Jaskier do nothing to change it. They let Geralt suffer.

[straysinfiltrator]

So @fandomwarehouse just made this post about Vernon Roche squinting and now I'm in the middle of an existential crisis because my knee reaction to Roche needing glasses is "of course he would throw them into the fire and swear he doesn't need them". But. But. This is a man that, quoting, "whore himself" to Nilfgaard. So the idea of him not using a tool that could objectively help him (any sort of visual impediment could be fatal in his line of work) doesn't make sense then. And now I'm wondering how expensive glasses are in the witcher universe and if Roche could afford them (that is after Foltest's death because he loses everything at that point). Anyway. I'm going to think more of Roche and glasses ☹

That is an interesting question! I wanted to look up before replying if the unofficial disability supplement to the Witcher tabletop RPG has anything to say on this. It says: “spectacles can only be commissioned as they are uniquely tailored to you and require the incredibly skilled hands of gnomish craftsmen and their highly coveted secrets of sanding and shaping glass and gemstone lenses that help improve eyesight.”

This isn’t official canon but it’s something that feels in keeping with canon to me. Glasses would probably be highly valuable and not available everywhere so the biggest question is whether Roche could obtain them once he’s no longer Foltest’s man, like in TW3 when he’s a guerilla fighter hiding in a cave. 

It’s also likely they would be suitable for reading but not for combat, but fortunately Roche is a close combat fighter, not someone who has to aim at a distance. They might look something like what this merchant from Touissant wears, or Thaler’s monocle thing. Geralt has those funky glasses one can get in TW3 but to me those felt more like a joke item than something meant to be lore accurate. 

Then again anything can be made possible through the power of fic. Maybe Barnabas (the gnome from Thronebreaker) opened a glasses factory in the Rivian city of Broadhead where Queen Meve leaves him in charge of reforming the factories after the 2nd Nilfgaardian war (in one TB path). Soon, cheap reading glasses are mass produced and available via traveling merchants all over the Continent, vastly improving accessibility of print material for the population. It’s amazing what a difference can be made by a single act of an enlightened queen :)

I’d say whether Roche wears them depends on the kind of prejudice he thinks he’s likely to face. This might seem wild now when so many wear glasses or contacts, but for those of my parents’ generation the stigma against glasses was so strong that some people would be socially afraid to wear glasses even in their old age. We know Roche is still affected by childhood bullying in his adult years, with the way he’s still touchy about his mother’s background, and he also needs to project strength in front of his soldiers.

But maybe when he’s alone, and having to go through some secretly obtained maps or correspondence, he takes out the small embroidered case, with the pattern all worn and faded by now, and opens it with care to retrieve the expensive lenses that had been a precious secret gift from his late king…

[inexplicifics]

So I’ve done some fic rec posts in the past, and will probably do others in the future, but today I’d like to give a different sort of recommendation: for actual Goods & Services that you can buy. This may be a bit of an eclectic mix...

There are a lot of very talented craftspeople out there; these are just skillful people in my personal orbit. I encourage anyone to add further recommendations in the comments!

My friend @heronfem writes lovely, heart-rending poetry books. I am honestly in awe of their talent for carefully removing my heart from my chest and making me thank them for it.

My friend Heathen makes all sorts of gorgeous things out of leather and wood and bone and wire. I have nowhere I could possibly wear the bracers but damn they’re pretty, and at least one of those necklaces is really tempting.

My friend @liaonyxrayne makes beautiful paintings and takes commissions. Watching her work in video chat is enthralling, and her progress videos are great fun.

The lovely @brothebro sells stickers and other artwork, and takes commissions. The “Geralt having an existential crisis” sticker makes me giggle every time I look at it.

The delightful Rae will be selling soaps and salves when their website opens. I love the fact that they have been coming up with soap scents & appearances themed for assorted witchers!

The ever-glorious @violaceum-vitellina-viridis does tarot readings when they’re not writing beautiful stories.

Go take a gander at the pretty things! Maybe something will catch your eye...

[darkverrmin]

Geralt often picking Jaskier up in his arms/on his back and Jaskier absolutely LOVES it. Even when the bard gains a lot of muscle and weight from their traveling, Geralt still carries him, whether it's neccessary or not.

Eskel: You do realize that Jaskier is practically your size now?

Geralt, Jaskier in his arms: Do you have a point? Cause I don't see it

Bonus: Geralt having an existential crisis when Jaskier starts carrying him

[teresa-of-ficwill]

Importance of Memories (Geraskier)

It was impossible that Geralt wouldn’t notice this. Because it was strange. You rarely meet an adult man who carries a stuffed plush toy with him everywhere. But Jaskier did.

This small grey bunny was with him everywhere. It was old and shabby but Jaskier always kept it clean like it was the most precious thing the bard has ever had. Even his beloved lute did not receive as much attention as the little unremarkable bunny.

The witcher had thought only kids sleep with toys but then he met Jaskier. The bard ALWAYS slept hugging a bunny when they slept in the woods. He even talked to it sometimes, usually, when he was mad at Geralt for some reason. This was how the witcher found out that the bunny was called Jock-Jock. It was a silly and childish name. In fact, as childish as the whole situation. Geralt literally caught an existential crisis every time Jaskier was hugging a rabbit and at the same time talking about his sex adventures.

And then something bad happened. They got into a fight in one of the taverns because a group of half-drunk men decided that fighting Geralt was the best decision. The assholes got off only with a couple of broken bones but Geralt and Jaskier had to quickly leave the town.

When they made camp that night in the nearest forest the bard found out that his bunny was missing. And he told Geralt about it.

“Perhaps it fell out of the bag when you were pushed onto the bar,” Geralt suggested without much enthusiasm. He still didn’t understand what was so special about this bunny.

“No, no. It can’t be. I couldn’t lose it. I couldn’t!” Jaskier started looking through his things again but it was obvious that the toy was missing. He seemed terrified as hell.

“We can buy you another bunny in the nearest town,” the witcher suggested.

“No! I don’t need another bunny, I need Jock-Jock!” the bard exclaimed, and Geralt saw tears in his eyes. Well, now he was worried. “I need to go back and find him,” Jaskier jumped to his feet, about to leave, but the witcher immediately stopped him.

“Are you out of your mind? These people will kill you.”

“I need my bunny back!”

“And I need you alive! What the hell, Jask? What is so special about this toy that you wanna risk your life?” Geralt didn’t understand.

“It’s Marianne’s. I need to get it back!” the bard said and then burst into tears, hiding his face in his hands.

Now Geralt was more confused than ever. “Shh, Jask, it’s alright. Who is Marianne?”

“She is my sister. It was her present. I can’t lose it. I can’t!”

“Well… I think she will understand and get you another bunny,” suggested Geralt, gently placing his hand on Jaskier's shoulder and trying to calm him down. His sister was important to him, the witcher got it.

“She can’t! She is dead. It was her last present to me, I… I can’t lose it… I can’t…” the bard looked at Geralt with eyes full of tears, and the witcher finally understood everything. That is why Jaskier was so attached to the bunny - this is the only thing left to him from his sister.

“I’m… I’m sorry. Come here,” said Geralt, letting the bard hug him. Jaskier immediately wrapped his arms around the man’s waist, buried his nose on the witcher’s shoulder and continued to cry.

This night Jaskier had trouble falling asleep. He was crying all evening, telling Geralt some unrelated stories about Marianne. The witcher found out that Jaskier’s sister was brave, strong and much older than the bard. She was a warrior, went to war and disappeared almost 20 years ago. She was declared dead.

Also Geralt learned that Jaskier and Marianne were really close, “the best friends ever” as the bard said. Jaskier was eight when his sister went to war. She gave him a bunny as a present and asked him not to miss her much. She never came back.

When Jaskier had finally fallen asleep Geralt quietly got up, took the weapon, the bard’s horse and went back to the town. He planned to return before Jaskier woke up, but still took Pegasus so that the bard would not think Geralt had left him if he suddenly woke up earlier. After all, Jaskier knew very well that the witcher would never leave without a Roach.

In the tavern, as expected, Geralt was not welcomed with open arms. But it turned out that if a formidable, armed and tired witcher appears on the doorstep and loudly demands to find him a plush bunny, it will scare the customers of the tavern and its owner to death and they will help.

“Hey, Jask. It’s time to wake up,” Jaskier woke up from being lightly shaken by the shoulder. His eyes ached from yesterday's tears and his face was probably terribly swollen.

The bard sighed and took a sitting position. His mood was worse than ever, but at least he tried to control himself and not start crying again. The witcher looked at him with warmth in his eyes.

“I have something for you,” he said and got a bunny out of his bag.

Jaskier’s face changed immediately. “Jock-Jock!” he exclaimed happily and snatched the toy from Geralt’s hands, immediately embracing it. The witcher smiled. It was worth it.

“Thank you for bringing him back to me,” said the bard and his eyes were literally shining. Geralt couldn’t look away. “I know it was dangerous and didn’t worth the risk but you did it anyway,” the bard continued to hold the toy in his hands as the most valuable thing in the world, and the witcher found it really cute.

“I don't like it when you cry,” answered Geralt and a second after his lips met Jaskier’s. The witcher wasn’t sure who kissed first but it seemed like they leaned forward simultaneously.

“Be careful with Jock-Jock next time, okay?” asked Geralt, and this was the first time he called the bunny by name.

Jaskier smiled. “Okay,” he said and then kissed the witcher again.

💜💜💜

More of my works you can see here 😉: Twitter and ao3

[lol-jackles]

Come on now! Tell us everything you think about The Witcher! Do you like, what do you like, what do you think about the characters, the actors... Tell us, tell us...

First, I'm going to reference a bit of the 1st season, which you can read my review of it here.  I found myself liking the 1st season more because of it's humor and the cheesy yet very glorious monster-of-the-week episodes.  What made The Witcher distinct from other dark fantasy stories is missing in the 2nd season by sacrificing individual adventures for an overarching story.  Even the scenes of a very buff man in a bath (an image that is in every iteration from video games to anime to live-action series) is missing from season 2. 

Season 2 answers most questions from season 1 (the conjunction of spheres, the Wild Hunt, what happened to the elves, why are witchers becoming extinct, what does Ciri's power do, and why does Niffgaard want her) by telling instead of showing.  Then it ramps up the stakes by encompassing the whole Continents packed with new factions, alliances, antagonists, allies, kings, witches, and elves, all of whom have complicated names and even more complicated motivations.  We had to watch with subtitles just to keep track of some of the some of the names.

But despite its flaws, season 2 is still great fun to watch because it's so damn charming, largely thanks to Henry Cavill who, once again, is by far the best thing about the show: Geralt's gruff mannerism and dry humor, along with his relationship with his new daughter, his new appreciation for his father figure, his continual friendship with Jaskier, and his complicated feelings with Yennifer in light of her desperate betrayal and sacrifice.  Geralt is now more than just a monster slayer for hire, he is also a detective trying to solve mysteries that affects his family's safety: from new monsters cropping up all over the Continent and showing up inside fortresses where it should have been safe, to whom is targeting Ciri and how they come to know of her power before anybody else did.

After spending the entire 1st season as a victim on the run, Ciri learns to fight from Geralt and a series of bastard uncles to both defend herself and strive to become like witchers in order to be "indifferent to the past", believing it will help her forget her painful losses. Destiny was the iron-fisted ruler of season 1; but in season 2, there are hints that there may be another side to that coin and finding it may be crucial for Ciri's future.  Ciri's development is gradual and believable, which helps anchor the 8 episodes where the fluidity of characters' alliances makes it harder for binge-watching casual viewers who are going, "Wait, wasn't she on his side just two hours episodes ago?"

Yennefer ends up with an existential crisis after a serious blow to her self-identity: the loss of her powers, which created an even deeper hole in her than it did in the1st season.  Yen is forced to learn to survive as a powerless human with very powerful foes by using her wits and intelligence.  Her vulnerability made her open to manipulation of a demon that she both struggles against and submits to. I liked 2nd seasons’ Yen more than I thought possible because she just so human.  Even as she struggles to survive, she still tries to save lives, mostly failing and sometimes succeeding.  She is forced to make questionable and impossible choices.  We also see her longing for a child of her own with Geralt, a very human need on par with her need for power to feed her identity as well as to protect herself.  When she is thankfully reunited with Geralt and Ciri, we see the incredible potential of this little nascent family unit.

Jaskier brings the best out of every character he interacts with, revealing Geralt's soft side, sharpening Yennefer's insults, and driving everyone else to either drink or punch him in the face.   Jaskier is even more of a welcome figure in the 2nd season that decides to be darker and eschews humor of its1st season.

Other returning characters are fleshed out more and we understand their motivations a bit better.   Like Fringilla perceived Nilfgaard as liberators as the emperor literally liberated and saved her from a dungeon, in contrast to season 1 where Nilfgaard was purely evil.  Stregobor's attitude towards Yennefer in season 1 makes way more sense now in the context that he's had a very, very bad history with elven-blood mages and he can't escape his fear.  Geralt knows a truth Stregobor does not: "We do not kill out of fear."

Wrapping this up, while haphazardly throwing political “intrigue” (I found dull, hence the bunny ears) at viewers, the father-daughter dynamic between Geralt and Ciri is what held the entire season together.  It’s noted how other characters repeatedly point out their resemblance - similar attitudes, same hair color and style - perhaps to remind viewers of their father-daughter bond so that by the last 30 seconds of season 2 when *SPOILER*  Ciri’s biological father is hell bent on getting her back and he’s already destroyed her kingdom, her people, and her grandmother in season 1 to get to her.  Promising higher stakes for Geralt and Ciri as they are forced to go into hiding from every magical and political threats on Ciri’s life and those who protect her.

I can’t wait for season 3.

[contemplativepancakes]

the thorny heart of a wolf

3.5k of it being increasingly obvious that Jaskier has written a romance novel about Geralt while Geralt is increasingly oblivious. read this and my other witcher fics on ao3 here!

Geralt stirs the smoldering logs, brooding as the poker makes ash and ember drift up. His nose twitches at the smokiness of it, but it reminds him of comforting nights spent near the fire with good food and better company. Geralt rarely makes a fire when he’s by himself, but Jaskier insists on complaining about his cold feet all night if Geralt doesn’t keep their campsite warm enough. 

Eskel clears his throat obnoxiously, making Geralt look up at him. It’s a rare night in the keep where Vesemir couldn’t think of any additional chores or maintenance that needed done, so they had scurried away before something came to him. 

Geralt peers at the book in Eskel’s hand, not recognizing it from the library. It’s a garish purple that’s frankly an affront to Geralt’s eyes. “What are you reading?” 

Eskel snaps it shut. “Nothing.”

Geralt quirks an eyebrow. “I’m sure you won’t mind me taking a look at it, then.”

“Geralt, really, I’m just trying to protect you from yourself.”

Geralt holds his hand out, and Eskel reluctantly hands it over. Lambert snickers from his corner, and Geralt levels him with a glare. Even Aiden looks amused, and Geralt’s mood sours at the laugh at his apparent expense. He looks at the cover in surprise. Luminescent yellow eyes peer back at him from a shirtless man with an impressive abdomen. Geralt thumbs through the book, and the word witcher catches his eye. “This is about...us?”

He looks back down at it, eyebrows lifting in surprise as graphic descriptions leap off the page at him. “Is this a romance?” he asks incredulously. 

“‘And he prodded the smaller man’s backdoor with his throbbing meat stick, plunging in with a wet squelch,’” Lambert quotes. “Yeah, I think it’s a romance.”

Geralt makes a face and throws the book at Lambert. Aiden catches it right before it hits Lambert square in the nose, and Geralt shakes his head. “Should have let it hit the ass. It’s the least he deserves.”

“Hey, I haven’t even told you the best part yet,” Lambert says. “We’re pretty sure it’s about you.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Geralt scoffs, glancing at Eskel with narrowed eyes. 

Eskel’s look does not exactly inspire confidence. “You and the main character do have a suspicious amount of shared scars.”

“Coincidence.”

Eskel bites his lip, but he doesn’t say anything else. He’ll let Geralt live in blissful ignorance for now. 

Lambert pages through the book, his head laying back on Aiden’s lap. “Did you get a new scar on your ass since last winter?”

The meat of Geralt’s ass where a griffin tore into him twinges. “Fuck off.”

-

Geralt is two hours out on his journey away from Kaer Mohren when he feels a hard edge digging into him from his pack. He adjusts it, trying to stop whatever it is from poking him, but it’s bulky and it won’t settle right. Geralt digs a hand into his pack, fishing around until he finds it. It’s a—book? Geralt pulls it out and squints at the cover, recognizing it as what Eskel had been reading. No doubt one of his brothers had thought this would be a funny joke. Geralt considers tossing it alongside the road, but as he looks thoughtfully at the cover with two shirtless men clutching at each other, his curiosity wins out. The Thorny Heart of a Wolf, the cover says.

He tucks it back into his satchel.

Later, after the sun has set, and he’s gone as far as he can for the day—certainly not travelling in the vague direction of Oxenfurt to see whose path his own might end up crossing—Geralt pulls out the book. He flips through pages at the beginning, reading that the witcher’s love interest is a viscount. Geralt huffs a laugh under his breath that someone resembling anything close to nobility would willingly follow around a witcher. 

Geralt thumbs through it until he reaches the middle, a faint blush rising to his cheeks as his eyes flicker across the page. 

The witcher moaned at the sight of his lover stroking himself as he leaned against the tree. Eric’s eyes were black, and the color spread to the veins standing out in stark contrast to his pale face. Julian palmed himself through his trousers as Eric moved closer, his breath hot on Julian’s bared neck, his head tossed back in pleasure. 

Eric paused with his hands just shy of Julian’s chest. Julian took the step forward and wrapped his arms around Eric gently. Julian knew just how overstimulated Eric got when his blood was black with toxicity. Eric buried his face in Julian’s neck, scenting him with a deep sniff. Julian wrapped his fingers into Eric’s long gray hair, tugging at the strands a bit and making Eric moan. 

Eric nipped his way up Julian’s neck, sucking a bruise onto the soft flesh and staking his claim. Julian felt his member twitch at the thought that people would notice it tomorrow, that they would look between him and his handsome witcher and connect the dots. 

Geralt presses the heel of his hand over his crotch and resolutely does not grind down. He casts a furtive glance around him, and seeing nothing creeping from the tree line to rip out his intestines while he’s distracted, he turns his attention back to the book. 

Julian caught Eric’s lips in a messy kiss, bringing his fingers up to trace the black veins spider webbing out from his eyes. Eric ducked his head, but Julian brought his hand under Eric’s chin, tilting it back up and gentling their kiss. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, and the sentiment echoed into the night and made Eric’s heart twist. 

Geralt sets the book down on his lap and stares up at the leaves swaying in the breeze. He sticks his thumb in the book, marking his spot as he flips it over and looks for the author. They can’t have any firsthand experience with witchers if this is the sort of thing they’re writing. He runs his fingers over the embossed letters on the spine. Dandelion Pankratz, it proclaims in shiny gold. Geralt hums to himself in curiosity as he flips back to his page and skips forward a bit, eager to get to the good parts and stop having an existential crisis. 

Julian reached behind himself, his fingers slick with a neutral smelling oil. Eric sniffed the air, his senses still extra heightened from his elixirs and shuddered as he drank in the scent of Julian’s and his own arousal mingling. Eric moved forward, catching Julian’s hand and replacing the fingers with his own. 

Julian stifled a cry as Eric found his prostate, leaning forward and muffling his gasps into Eric’s shoulder. Julian brought a hand up to wrap around Eric’s cock, engorged and black veined from the elixirs. Julian shuddered at the thought of that monstrous thing inside him, his stomach tingling in anticipation. 

The first time he and Eric had done this, Eric had squinted at him doubtfully. “Are you sure it’s going to fit?”

Julian had laughed and showed him exactly how well it filled in all his gaps. 

Eric finished stretching him out, and Julian positioned Eric until he was right where he wanted him. Julian sunk down slowly on Eric’s cock, moaning as the prominent veins rubbed against his walls. Eric reached around him to grasp his cock, and he stroked it in time to Julian’s rhythm. 

Geralt swallows hard, palming at his cock before pulling it out of his pants. He trails his fingers over the head as he holds the book awkwardly in one hand, continuing to read as he gets himself off. 

“Oh, fuck, Eric, you feel so good, darling.”

Eric was never one for eloquent declarations at the best of times, and in the middle of sex was typically the worst of times. Eric grunted, but Julian understood the sentiment. 

“I love you, too,” he gasped as he came. 

Geralt drops the book with a thud and pulls his hand away from himself. This author must never have met a real life witcher before, if they think that witchers are capable of being loved, that they deserve to be cherished. Geralt stares at his erection, willing it to go down. It doesn’t, and he vehemently does his pants back up anyway, hissing as the fabric presses rough against the sensitive flesh. 

Geralt shoves the book to the bottom of his pack like it’s burned him, and as he tries to fall asleep that night, he tosses and turns. 

-

Eskel raps on the door three times before he stands back and waits. He waits for ten seconds, twenty, until a woman opens the door just a smidge and stares out at him from the crack. “Can I help you?” 

Eskel is caught off guard at her suspicious squint, so he splutters for a second before regathering his wits. He pulls a book out of his pack, and her eyes widen at the sight. “Where did you get that?” she hisses, beckoning him inside urgently. “The author made it very clear it wasn’t supposed to be seen by any witchers.”

Eskel’s surprised by this. It’s not like people go to great lengths to hide what they think of witchers, and at least this author doesn’t paint them through a lens of disdain. “How exactly were you going to accomplish that?” Eskel asks, in genuine curiosity. Witchers travel all over the continent, and seeking new knowledge isn’t exactly out of the ordinary for them.

The woman tilts her head, considering. “I suppose it was more of a meaningless platitude than anything.”

“Excellent. That means you can tell me who this writer is.”

The woman shakes her head rapidly. “No, no, definitely not.”

“Why not?”

“Well, I don’t know, what if you decide to take revenge on them for what they’ve written?”

Eskel frowns. “Have you read this?” he asks.

The woman blushes and nods. 

“So why would I want revenge? Is there some offense hidden between the lines?”

“Well, no,” the woman hedges. “You’re an unpredictable sort, though. There’s no telling what you might do.”

Eskel huffs and rolls his eyes. For being so unpredictable, this woman is sure comfortable insinuating things about him and not giving him what he wants. 

“Just tell me who it is, and then I can be on my way.”

“I can’t say,” she says, tilting her chin up. 

Eskel sighs. He can tell a lost cause when he sees one. “You know, this isn’t the first romance about witchers I’ve seen,” he says, trying a different tack. 

“Maybe so, but the rest are all knock offs,” she informs him smugly. “They don’t even have experience with real witchers. This one’s the best there is out there. There’s even going to be a sequel.”

Eskel hums thoughtfully. “I imagine there’s been an uptick in interest after that accursed song.”

“That’s right!” the woman says, before clamming up and refusing to say anything else. 

The wheels turn in Eskel’s head. 

-

Geralt looks through the smoke wafting up from the campfire over to Jaskier, who’s furiously scribbling something in his notebook. They’ve just been on the road for the past four days, so Geralt’s not sure what he could be writing about with such fervor. It’s not like there’s been much inspiration. 

Jaskier’s quill continues to fly across the page, so Geralt pulls out his own book. It’s too dark for Jaskier to be able to see the cover, he reasons. He props his legs up on a log and opens it up to where he left off. 

“Julian, wait!” Eric cried. “Come with me.”

Julian looked up in surprise. “Really?”

“It… it gets lonely, being without you all winter long.”

Julian wound his arms around Eric. “You’re not the only one.”

Eric looked inordinately pleased at the statement, and he slotted their mouths together delicately. 

Julian kissed him for a moment before pulling back. “I’m not going to break, you know.”

“I know,” Eric murmured, but he kept the same slow pace. 

There’s a sudden flurry of movement that draws Geralt’s attention away from the page. “Geralt! What in the world are you reading?”

“A bestiary?” Geralt tries. 

Jaskier is practically in his lap before Geralt can think about it too much, swiping the book right out of Geralt’s hands. “Where did you get this?” Jaskier asks. 

“Eskel gave it to me.”

Jaskier rolls his eyes. “And where did Eskel get it?”

“I think Lambert.”

“Did every single witcher read this?” Jaskier shrills. 

Geralt shrugs. “I don’t think Vesemir did?”

Jaskier presses the book to his chest. “Are you liking it?” he asks, eyeing Geralt closely. 

“It’s not bad,” Geralt says gruffly. “But it’s not very realistic.”

“I hate to break this to you, but realism in sex scenes are not exactly a romance writer’s chief concern.”

Geralt rolls his eyes. “Not that. I just—no human could think about a witcher like that.”

Jaskier looks like he has something he wants to say, but he bites his tongue, settling on giving Geralt a disbelieving look out of the corner of his eye. 

Geralt turns his attention back to feeding the fire. “So, what did you do all winter?”

Jaskier huffs. “Believe it or not, I do have a life when you’re not around, you know.”

Geralt knows. Gods, does he know. There’s a whole life that Jaskier has that Geralt isn’t a part of, not at all. He wonders how many of Jaskier’s friends approve of them travelling together. Most likely none of them, if Geralt is being honest with himself. And why would they? Geralt wouldn’t be happy if he found out Eskel had decided to travel with some dangerous monster. 

“I know.”

Jaskier hums thoughtfully. “Well, I had this whirlwind affair. It kept me quite busy all winter, I’m afraid. Not very much time for much else. I’ll spare you the details.”

Geralt grunts. 

-

Eskel leans back in his chair and looks at Yennefer suspiciously. “So it’s not you?”

Yennefer slants an amused smile his way. “Definitely not. I am rather enjoying it, though,” she says, drawing Eskel’s attention to her table, where she’s tapping her fingers on a copy of the book. “Who knew witchers could be so in touch with their emotions?”

Eskel snorts. “Can I see it?” Lambert had taken his copy, telling Eskel he had snuck his own into Geralt’s things. Eskel had laughed at the thought enough that he had handed his over. 

Yennefer hands it over and Eskel thumbs through the pages, humming softly. He had skimmed through it before, but this time he’s looking for anything that might give him hints of the author. 

Eskel lands on the main character’s name. Eric. The name niggles at the back of Eskel’s mind, and he racks his brains to remember the significance. It hits him then, and the image of a young Geralt sitting on the bed across from him and grinning comes to mind. Geralt had barely been able to get the words out because he had been so full of self satisfaction. “Geralt Roger Eric du Haute-Bellegarde,” he had finally said, adopting a solemn tone before dissolving into laughter again.  

Geralt had been poking fun of the ridiculously long names of the nobles, wanting to adopt one for himself. Vesemir had given him a sharp no, so the idea was shelved, and just Geralt took its place. 

Eskel is more convinced than ever that whoever wrote this knows Geralt well, and at this point, it’s so obvious that the story is about Geralt, it’s laughable. 

Eskel thinks he has a pretty clear idea of who it must be.

-

Geralt knows who wrote the book. The thought has been bothering him for weeks, and even though a few nights ago, Jaskier had tripped while he was carrying the book and dropped it straight into the fire, Geralt hasn’t stopped thinking about it. 

He’s decided that the book is mostly accurate to witchers, so the author must have some experience with them—but only a little. There’s no way anyone would write about witchers the way that author does if they truly knew them, knew someone like Geralt. The book talks as if Eric is deserving of love, and while that’s a nice sentiment, witchers are just meant to kill monsters. They walk the Path alone. 

On top of that, it’s someone who’s seen the wicked looking scar on his ass, and that narrows down the list quite considerably. The griffin had torn into him last spring, and Geralt doesn’t typically seek out people to sleep with while Jaskier is with him. 

In fact, the last time he had been with someone was on his way out of Oxenfurt when he had dropped Jaskier off last winter, when he had run into a rather charming bard who he certainly had not slept with solely because he reminded him of someone else. 

The writer has to be Valdo Marx. 

Geralt turns to Jaskier, who is predictably scribbling in his notebook. Geralt supposes he must be composing another song; he’s had to have come up with at least in a dozen this year so far with as much writing as he does. 

Geralt nudges Jaskier’s foot with his, and Jaskier looks up after a few more seconds of rushed writing. “What?”

“I know who wrote that book.”

Jaskier’s face twists into something Geralt can’t place. 

“What book?”

Geralt huffs in exasperation; it’s as if Jaskier is being obstinate on purpose. “You don’t remember the book you pitched into the fire? I still had one more chapter to go,” he complains. 

Jaskier scratches the back of his neck. “Oh, that book? Who?”

“Valdo Marx, have you heard of him? He’s another bard, not that I expect all of you to be acquainted with each other, of course,” Geralt rambles until Jaskier cuts him off. 

“You—you think—Valdo Marx wrote that?”

There’s a sour distressed smell wafting off of Jaskier, and Geralt frowns. “Do you know him?”

“Know him?” Jaskier laughs. “Yes. And I can't believe you think he wrote that."

“Well, I do.”

Jaskier rubs a hand over his face. “And what do you plan on doing with this new found knowledge?”

“I have to...talk to him, I think.”

“Oh?”

Yes, Geralt has to talk to him, has to know if what he wrote is what he truly thinks of witchers. Geralt’s not used to people assuming he’s anything but a monster. 

He wants to get used to it. 

-

It’s not a long journey to Oxenfurt from where they are, but it’s compounded by the three contracts Geralt picks up along the way. Jaskier is generally huffy at Geralt, and Geralt’s asked him what’s wrong on three separate occasions, but Jaskier just says, “Nothing,” with a dramatic sigh and walks away mumbling to himself. 

Geralt has no idea what his problem is. 

Jaskier gets more and more worked up the closer they get, a fruit senescence smell drifting off of him that has Geralt wrinkling his nose at the sickly sweetness of it all. Geralt even makes sure they make it to an inn to sleep one night so Jaskier can perform and hopefully improve his mood, but he just sulks in their room all night. 

Jaskier usually has no problem curling up next to Geralt and trying to leech all the warmth out of him that he can, putting his ice cold feet on Geralt’s under the blanket, but that night, there’s an ocean dividing them, and Geralt doesn’t know how to get across. 

It’s a long night, one in which Geralt manages to get very little sleep because of Jaskier’s tossing and turning next to him. Geralt doesn’t even have the heart to growl at him to stay still because it’s obvious he’s upset about something or other. 

“Is this about your romance this winter?” Geralt finally asks. 

Jaskier doesn’t answer for a long while. 

“You could say that.”

-

Eventually, Geralt finds himself in front of Valdo’s house. It looks vaguely familiar, as it should, when the last and only time Geralt had been here was almost a year ago. 

Geralt raises his hand and knocks, and then Jaskier’s warm hand is on his wrist. 

“Geralt, wait.”

Geralt turns to him with raised eyebrows. “What?”

“Geralt, it’s me.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s me! I wrote the books!”

Geralt’s head spins. The answer has not been sitting in front of his face this entire time. He’s not that oblivious. Hell, his whole damn job depends on him not being oblivious. “My ass,” he says weakly. 

Jaskier takes a step back. “What?”

“The scar. How would you know?”

Jaskier throws his hands up in exasperation. “You’re not exactly modest, Geralt. Excuse me if I couldn’t exactly keep my eyes to myself. You know, you were rather vague about why you thought the writer was Valdo fucking Marx of all people. Want to expound? On how he’s seen your ass?”

Geralt grins weakly. “I don’t think we need to get into that.”

Jaskier grumbles to himself. He looks Geralt in the eye before seeming to make a decision, and before Geralt knows what’s happening, he’s being tugged into a very heated kiss. 

The door swings open, and Jaskier pulls back just long enough to sneer in its direction. 

He slams the door shut. “Fuck off, Valdo.”