#Jaskier is a menace

[life-as-a-gamergirl]

Lord!Jaskier and Commander!Geralt AU part 2

You can find the first part here.

A good morning

Geralt: *knocking once and coming into the young lord's room at the previusly agreed hour ready to scort Jaskier in the castle to attend his duties* "My lord, I'm here to…"

Jaskier: *standing in a sexy pose, which is completely by chance and not planned at all, in the middle of the room,only in his underwear, which is casually the pair that makes his ass look better* "Oh, I'm sorry, my dear. Is it time to go down already? I must have lost myself looking at the view. Isn't it lovely?" *turns his head towards the window, showing off his neck and arching his back a bit more.*

Geralt: *face completely neutral, keeping his eyes respectfully above the young lord's neck.* "I'll wait for my lord outside" *does a small bow keeping his eyes locked with Jaskier's, turns around and leaves.*

Jaskier: oh you're a hard one, uh? Even more fun. Let's see how long you can resist my charm.  

*Horny evil bard-lord cackling noises.*

Meanwhile outside his room

Geralt *as red as a tomato* what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck.

[thelostgirl21]

Radovid experiencing all 3 stages of fanboying within literally the first 1 minute and 59 seconds of laying eyes on Jaskier.

[plotvichka]

Family doing baby Ciri's hair

I think everyone agrees Geralt is the "messy pigtails" kind of dad and there's really nothing else to discuss.

Meanwhile Yen allows Ciri to choose a hairstyle every morning (and she can do incredibly complicated ones if her daughter wants her to) and Ciri decides to match with her mommy every. single. morning. So Yen ends up always doing the same hairstyle twice: one for herself and one for Ciri. She never shows how she feels about it, but Geralt can see her teary smiles when she turns away from Ciri.

And Jaskier is the uncle who lets her go crazy with her hair and she comes home to her parents with a ton of sparkly hair clips and a couple of strands dyed in bright colors. He's not allowed to be alone with her for the next month after that as Yen is still planning his murder.

Uncle Eskel totally loves to braid her hair. Vesemir tells Ciri to do her hair herself because she is a big girl after all and Ciri agrees.

After a day spent with uncle Lambert literally no one can tell he brought the wrong child before all the mud is cleaned and there's a random kid instead of Ciri.

And no, sorceresses are NOT allowed to see Ciri. Even Triss. The girl betrayed her "little sis" more than once why would anyone trust her again. The lodge of sorceresses is like a bunch of evil godmothers who no one chose to be godmothers but they decided it themselves and now they are here.

[flootzavut]

If this set of tags doesn't sum up his entire fandom I don't know what does.

I hope it posts the video but I'm putting the source tweet in the appropriate box 🤞🏼🤞🏼🤞🏼

[thedemonofcat]

Jaskier hadn’t been looking for Geralt when he stumbled upon the wounded witcher. Months had passed since the disaster on the mountain, and in that time, Jaskier had come to terms with the harsh truth: whatever his feelings for Geralt, they were unrequited. Geralt didn’t even seem to like him.

But fate had other plans. Jaskier found Geralt unconscious, his body battered and bruised, the life seemingly draining from him. Beside the witcher stood a Mage, cloaked in power and menace, who made Jaskier a chilling offer: Geralt’s life in exchange for something precious.

The price was Jaskier's voice.

Faced with losing the man he loved, Jaskier didn’t hesitate. He agreed to the Mage’s terms, even as dread twisted in his chest. The Mage’s spell was swift and merciless, trapping Jaskier’s voice inside an enchanted music box. The air hummed with the finality of the pact. Before Geralt stirred from unconsciousness, Jaskier fled, leaving behind no explanation, trace, or intention of ever revealing the truth.

Months later, when Geralt finally found Jaskier, he was consumed with regret. The sight of Jaskier’s silence hit him like a blow. Assuming the bard was under a curse, Geralt vowed to lift it, no matter the cost. Guilt and worry weighed heavy on him as he embarked on his quest, unaware that Jaskier’s silence was a sacrifice born of love, not a curse born of malice.

[tielmamon]

A mage kidnaps Jaskier and sets him with a sleeping curse as a way to prove that witchers are heartless, bloodthirsty monsters themselves who know nothing but to kill-

Geralt swifty makes his way to Jaskier, who is currently laying dramatically on the ground near a tree. Just as quick, he places a soft almost playful kiss on the bard's sleeping lips and-

"Get up, come on." Geralt rumbles unhelpfully, smacking the bard's face a few times, smirking down at Jaskier who yawns right in his face.

"Shit, again? What is with you mages and true love kiss curses? And always around this time of the year too! Are you all just collectively lonely and bitter nearing Belletyn?" The bard hauls himself up, yawning once more while he leans on his witcher's side. A warm, armoured hand clasps the back of his neck, pulling him closer.

"Are you complaining?" With a bark of laughter, Jaskier answers with a kiss on the cheek.

"Hardly. Just wish there was a bit more variety, you know? Say, oh i don't know, true love's blow j-" He receives a smack up the back of his head and a chuckle at his side.

"Fuck off and find the amulet for the contract-" With a flourish, Jaskier pulls the amulet out of his coat pocket

"All done, darling. Do keep up." The mage watches from the sidelines, still tied up and horrified and embarassed. The two turn to him, one looking menacing and the other smiling brightly down at him. He's not quite sure which one he fears more.

[catscraftsandcommentary]

So I had some time to think tonight at work (in between operating heavy machinery, swearing at the materials, and trying to keep the line running, fun times!) And I asked myself, "self, hypothetically, what might @inexplicifics Accidental Warlord AU look like in another generation or two - once people really get used to witchers being The Good Guys (TM) and helping out?"

And I was like "well, they'd probably get invited to social events - ooh! Who'd like which events best?!? What would that look like?"

Geralt, as we all know, detests anything too formal or Warlord-focused. He enjoys weddings and receptions, but his TRUE favorite is baby christenings. Seriously. Put him in a room with a tiny baby and he's happy as a clam. He'll happily growl away (or weaponize his puppy-dog eyes against) grannies, aunties, and other family members to hold the baby for as long as possible. He's also 90% of the reason that witchers are now rumored to be able to bless babies.

When Mouse and Treyse bring this new rumor to the council, everyone has to just sit. And process for a minute. Because what the ever-loving fuck?!? (Jaskier immediately writes the sweetest lullaby ever, "A Witcher's Blessing", and it is the ONLY song that Geralt ever sings in public, and only ever to babies and small children. Multiple women blame this for their immediate conceptions.)

Jaskier adores weddings and festivals of all types, and if a happy couple includes details of how they met and/or fell in love with their wedding invitation, there's at least a 50% chance that he'll show up to the wedding with a personalized love song, holy shit.

Ciri loves tourneys. Loves watching them, loves displaying in them, loves sneaking into competing in them (omg, heir, NO), loves WINNING them. She's a menace. She has various stealth coats of arms that she rotates between when she's not supposed to be competing, but her favorite is the battle goose. Obviously.

Eskel doesn't like crowds or being the center of attention, which are almost inevitable with public invitations, but he does enjoy being the +1 for his family. Several of his and their interests overlap, and even where they don't, he likes to see them enjoying themselves.

Yennifer becomes well-known as an extremely efficient - albeit terrifying - treaty negotiator. She'll talk to both sides, get a list of their must haves, deal-breakers, would-likes, and don't-wants (as well as - perhaps more importantly - the reason why each of those are on that particular list). Then she draws up a draft and viciously negotiates a compromise. She is genuinely surprised the first time that both sides thank her for her help.

Vesemir, with all his long years of teaching, loves visiting schools and seeing any sort of student performance or sporting event. Kindergarten to university, drama to music to dance recitals to track and field meets to football games to student symposiums to science contests to... He buys out bake sales and funds club field trips and donates several fortunes worth of antique knick knacks to various schools. He's invited as a guest lecturer, a commencement speaker, a competition judge, a referee.

Lambert and Aiden, at some point, discover bachelor's parties, call dibs, and never look back. People learn very quickly not to invite witchers to their stag nights unless they want the entire party to get horrifyingly drunk - but at least Lam and Aiden will make sure that everyone makes it home (or to the wedding) safely. Perhaps not soberly, or sans hangover, but definitely without major injury. (And if the bride asks nicely and the groom and friends weren't total jerks, Lambert can usually be counted on to make a hangover cure. He really is a softie at heart.)

Dragonfly and Serrit get tapped for the odd bachelorette party or ladies' birthday parties. Anything that falls under "I want to be able to drink and party with my friends without worrying about some strange guy hurting one of us." They are extremely protective and have both been drunkenly proposed to several times. (Livi finds this terribly amusing. Gweld just wants to know if he can watch.) Milena and Zofia sometimes go with them.

Milena loves going to wedding showers and baby showers, but outside Kaer Morhen, she has to stay in sight of Lambert or one of his brothers. Lambert's rule. (She got KIDNAPPED, okay? He's allowed to worry!) Usually she'll take Geralt (there might be babies! He's excellent protection!) or Eskel (he's very quiet and has excellent manners, and his signs are impossible to fight) for the more, ah, female-heavy events. If anyone asks, they're her brother-in-law and genuinely like spending time around kids. And very, very married.

[inexplicifics]

Hello! I was rereading With a Conquering Air (again lol) and I never considered before the tutor before Jaskier that was menaced with a toad. I can’t see them bringing in outsiders for the job, which limits the options to a Witcher or one of the sorcerers that came with Yenn. So now I have the hilarious mental image of a loyal sorcerer/ess who generally does good work for the wolf until they have to come back to Kaer Morhen just…extremely disgruntled every time they cross paths with Ciri 😂😂😂

This may explain why two of the sorceresses who came with Yen spend all their time out on the Path!

Honestly, though, I have to admit that since With a Conquering Air was meant, initially, to be a standalone, I didn't really figure out some of the loose ends. Like, oh, who that poor tutor was.

I think everyone's glad Ciri upgraded from toads to geese. Especially the toads.

[dapandapod]

I was asking my fantastic friend @sleepingreader what I should do this friday eve, and was told "I would love to see jaskier but he's a horrible swan". So here it is. I share it because frankly, I find myself hilarious. I'm not sorry. And thank you Ella-la, this made me laugh.

"…. What is going on?" Geralt asks, watching the mayhem happening on the village square.

Hissing and shrieking and mocking laughter made the soundtrack to a big, angry swan chasing a man around what seems to be his own stall of jewery.

"You know how Jaskier is a magpie?" Ciri says with an amused smile, leaning against the doorway to the inn with her hood up, braid carefully tucked out of sight. "Turns out the ring he tried out was cursed, and he is letting the owner know his thoughts about it."

Geralt moves to stand behind her, letting Ciri lean back against him as they watch the scene unfold.

The Jaskier-Swan is hissing in ways he usually credits things with contracts at them, nipping after the fat man, only to get a beak full of cheak silk trousers.

His pale ass is bared to the village square and more people are stopping to watch the spectacle, some not even bothering to hide their mirth behind their hands.

"He had it coming," someone says a bit further away.

"When would be a good time to intervene?" Geralt asks Ciri, enjoying the sound of her giggles and the shrieks of the vendor.

However, he isn't enjoying watching more and more of that pale ass, as his trousers slip lower and lower while trying to get away from the big, feathered beasts.

Ciri pretends to consider it, the panicking crook stumbling over his own feet, trouser slipping dangerously low, and Geralt makes the decision.

"Menace," he tells her, ruffling the top of her head over the hood.

"Hey!" She complains, but lets Geralt step past her and into the square.

The moment the swan notices him, he comes charging, hissing and honking with his wings spread, ranting in a bird way that is very much Jaskier's way of telling Geralt exactly what he needs to do to that man. Throwing a hissyfit has never been more fitting, Geralt thinks to himself with a smirk.

The vendor takes his chance and tries to slink off, but Jaskier whirls on him and with his neck low charges at him again.

Geralt wonders what Jaskier will think when he admits he has no idea to turn him back…

[0dde11eth]

We all agree that jaskier would be a MENACE and chaos incarnate when he gets to kaer morhen.

He has no fear of witchers and their muscles and scowling faces. So they have no idea how to get him to behave.

Once Lambert threatened to spank him if he didn't shape up. (cause he heard that kids hate that.) It did not have the effect on jaskier he was hoping for.

Even papa vesemir gets worn out from trying to wrangle both him and Lambert. So one of the most common phrases geralt hears In winter is " GERALT! come deal with your bard!"

Geralt wants to think he is very strict. But in reality, he's as lenient as the police on national free balloon day.

Geralt drags his bard over to the corner for a TIME OUT. It lasts less than 15 seconds. Even when he accidentally blew up the west tower.

They are both very dramatic when geralt calls the punishment off. Lots of sobbing and kissing and geralt carrying jaskier around for the rest of the evening.

***

The entire time jaskier shoots the other witchers the most obnoxious smug expressions over geralt shoulder as he carries him around whispering apologies for his "punishment"

[life-as-a-gamergirl]

Lord!Jaskier and Commander!Geralt AU

First encounter

*In the Great Hall of the Pankratz' manor*

Lord Pankratz: "Son, I introduce to you Geralt of Rivia, new commander of the guards as well as your personal escort during your daily activities."

*Enter Geralt: clad in full armor that highlights his strong legs, narrow waist, wide shoulders, with his handsome face, mysterious-looking scars, beautiful golden eyes, luscious white hair. All in all Jaskier's wet dreams come true.*

Jaskier: *whispering to himself* “And hopefully also for the nightly ones because holy shi—” 

��Geralt: *kneeling in front of them* "My lords, Geralt of Rivia reporting for duty." *turning towards Jaskier* "It is an honour to meet you, Young Lord. I'm at your service."

Jaskier, already coming up with foolproof plans to seduce that God of a man: *horny evil bard-lord noises* "Pleasure's aaaaaall mine, my dear."

[captainkirkk]

✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

All the fics I’ve read and really enjoyed in the past week-ish. Reminder: This list features any and all ratings and themes. Please look at tags and warnings on ao3 before reading.

DC

fill in the blanks by mindshelter

"You?” Tim blurts. Holy shit. “You’re Kon?”

A nod. “Are you in any pain?” he asks again.

Kon’s skin is sun-kissed, cheekbones dusted with a fine smattering of freckles; he is, without exaggeration, the prettiest person Tim has ever seen. “No, I’m—great,” he says, fidgeting. “Do you, uh, come here often?”

Kon raises a brow. “To the medbay?” he intones. “Definitely more often than I’d prefer."

Fault Line by sElkieNight60 (+ podfic)

Part 1 of Tectonics

"You’re invulnerable…” he whispers, but it’s clear that fact falters in his mind.

Confusion writes its way into the lines on Conner’s face and Clark takes a step back as though physically pushed.

“You’re not invulnerable.”

It is a statement, dull like stone.

“N-no, sir.”

— 🦸 —

OR: Conner's not as invincible as Clark thought. Suddenly, he's a lot more human.

Danny Phantom x DC

The Business of Family by Spaced_Ace

Jazz remembered the way their parents loomed in the living room as they’d laid out that verdict. Ever-present weapons gleaming, standing in such a way that they blocked access to both the front and back entrances. Their eyes had been what struck her the most of that horrible tableau. What made her stomach fill with jagged stones and drenched her back in a frigid sweat. The way they looked at her little brother, their gazes cold and hollow and -

Hungry.

(Things are not well in Amity Park.

With the GIW getting more and more aggressive and their parents becoming ever more suspicious of Danny each day that passes, Jazz knows that they're running out of time. It's not safe, and their options are painfully limited. Out of sheer dumb luck or a little intervention from Clockwork, she manages to discover a distant relative that just might be their salvation.

If asked Oswald Cobblepot would say that it's just good business. Adopting a few kids had done wonders for Bruce Wayne's reputation, why not his? It's not like he can't afford to put them somewhere out of the way if they get to be a problem. It's just business. Nothing more.

(His soft heart says otherwise))

The Witcher

Words of Love by ForestWren

"I should warn you,” Jaskier said between kisses in the soft darkness of the shed, “That I know some… very interesting people. You may want to avoid meeting them.”

“I’ve dealt with the Redenian court for decades. Your friends can’t be worse than that.”

Five times Radovid meets Jaskier's friends and family, plus one time they are alone.

Star Wars x The Mandalorian

Master Skywalker: The Absolute Worst by PrinceJakeFireCake

"Din got to his feet. He patted Boba on the shoulder affectionately.

“You should watch the recording of Skywalker fighting the death troopers,” he said, then pressed a kiss to Boba’s cheek and told Grogu to stop eating his blocks.

Boba watched the recording. He was pretty sure he would never be the same again. He was positive that he never wanted to meet Skywalker ever again.”

Boba Fett falls for Luke Skywalker. It isn’t the funnest thing he’s ever done.

Original Works

Call Me Menace by wingedcat13

You, Synovus, are a respectably terrifying supervillain. Your main rivals, a pair of superheroes named Legionnaire and Athena, are actually respectable as heroes. You hate having to stoop to kidnapping their child - but you hate more what the kid's behavior implies.

if it don't hurt now (just wait a while) by quandaries_and_contradictions

Part 27 of mage in a wolf pack

When the hunters first take him, Jaime knows everything will be okay.

He’s scared, of course. He wants his mom and dad and little sister. But he knows it’s going to be okay — because the wolves who protect his town will come for him. Lada’s mother and father and papa won’t let the hunters get away with this. All he has to do is hold on until they get here.

Months later, he's not so sure.

Stranger Things

No One Rides For Free by weird_witchcraft

"Are you okay Harrington?” Eddie asks gently, “Need me to get anyone?”

“No one to get,” replies Steve, so soft Eddie barely catches it. “You think I want anyone seeing me like this?”

Eddie Munson stumbles across Steve Harrington crying next to a bush at Tina's party and makes it his mission to cheer him up.

Clone Wars

mirci't be uja by ihathbenobiwankenobied for whitchry9

Obi-Wan is usually good at keeping track of his blood sugar levels–because he has to be–but this time, it’s out of his control.

(Or, a diabetic Obi-Wan is thrown for a loop after crashing on an unknown planet. Stim does his best to keep his General alive)

[thelostgirl21]

English Translators: "Jaskier" translates as "Buttercup", but we can't just let a manly man use "Buttercup" as his nickname! That's way too feminine, and our readers would be horrified! Let's call him "Dandelion" instead. Yes, much better... Mucho macho...

Netflix & Joey Batey: Yeah, no. We'll just call him Buttercup by keeping the original Polish name, i.e. Jaskier.

So, this is our very own Prince Buttercup. He's a damoiseau in distress that's regularly in need of being rescued, enjoys chatting with animals, and might randomly break into song.

He feels very comfortable asking a strong, stoic, muscular man to accompany him to the Royal Ball for protection, and will attempt to convince him by rubbing chamomile onto his lovely bottom, giving him a bath, washing his stupid hair, and dressing him up in stylish, fine clothing.

He tends to see the good in everyone, and will spontaneously attempt to become friends with things that want to eat him (both figuratively and literally).

However he can occasionally become pretty condescending with commoners, and treat those that fail to appreciate his talent as beneath him; often with a complete disregard for his personal safety, as if it doesn't seem to occur to him right away that they'd actually dare lay their filthy hands on him.

He cries very pretty (so pretty), and will look at you with gorgeous doe eyes when he feels sad, hurt, scared, or needs a favor.

He's very distrustful and afraid of power-hungry sexy witches coming at him from many different angles, until they stop being all predatory and menacing, and begin rescuing and protecting him instead.

He gets along very well with other princes/princesses, and will resent not being invited to one of the most important social events of the Continent, but not getting to spend more time with them.

And he never experienced what romantic love truly was until he finally got to meet his very own Prince.

Obviously, Prince Radovid fell in love with our Buttercup at first sight, and was willing to give up his Kingdom for a chance to be by his side.

And as far as Prince Buttercup is concerned, he sees himself as a

because that's simply who he is, and that's also what masculinity looks like.

So, unless Jaskier, in the books, is a very insecure man that constantly worries about being mistaken for a woman, I can't help but find it hilarious that the translators of the books, in English, got so worried over "Buttercup" sounding feminine...

...when the character himself likely wouldn't have been bothered by the way it sounds in the least, and would totally have rocked that nickname while making it work perfectly for a guy!

Hell! As a non-native English speaker, other than the fact that I've seen the movie "The Princess Bride", and the princess in it was named "Buttercup", my brain does not at all perceive "Buttercup" as inherently feminine, nor "Dandelion" as inherently masculine.

Perhaps because, in French, each word has its own gender, and "bouton d'or" (i.e. "buttercup", but the literal translation would be "button made of gold") is masculine.

Un bouton d'or (a buttercup) is masculine.

Un pissenlit (a dandelion) is masculine.

Une rose (a rose) is feminine.

Une tulippe (a tulip) is feminine.

Etc.

"Princess Buttercup" is thus named "Princesse Bouton d'or" (it's actually the title of the movie) in French.

But "Bouton d'or" (Buttercup) is, by itself, a masculine word.

The funny thing is that, where I'm from, I think the dandelion is literally the single most hated flower I can think of.

When I was a kid, my parents - and pretty much all our neighbors - spent countless hours trying to remove every single dandelion they could find on their lawn and in their garden while making sure to fully eliminate the whole root, because they tended to replace all the grass, and some of the other flowers and plants from their garden.

Some of our neighbors had their lawns treated with very harsh chemicals (many of which are thankfully illegal today) in a desperate effort to get rid of them.

Dandelion always makes allergy season a complete and utter nightmare, makes it harder to breathe outside (those floating bits clouding the air always get stuck in your nose, throat or even eyes), it also clogs the air filter of your car...

And, when you cut them at the stem, your hands wind up all sticky and smelling awful.

Unless they want to make a point that they'll be extremely annoying, unwanted, sticky, smelly, trying to get into every single exposed orifice of your body as soon as you're exposed to them, and hard to get rid of, why would anyone ever wish to nickname themselves "dandelion"?

I mean, "pissenlit", the French name for "dandelion", comes from "pisse-en-lit" and literally means "peeing-in-bed".

Because if you eat dandelion leaves, they will make you pee and wet your bed (they have a strong diuretic effect).

Yes, we hate the dandelion so much, that we've decided to name that freaking flower "peeing-in-bed".

So, if you go from the original Polish name to the English translation of the name, and then translate the English name back to French...

You've essentially replaced:

Jaskier - > Buttercup - > Button made of gold (Bouton d'or).

By

Jaskier - > Dandelion - > Peeing-in-bed (Pissenlit).

It's hilarious!

All because some English translator got scared "Buttercup" would sound "too feminine".

The good news is that we kept Jaskier's name as "Jaskier" in the French translation of the books and the games. Although Bouton d'or would have worked just fine.

But yeah, come on! Jaskier would have made a beautiful Buttercup!

#the art of creating some gender issue where there's none.

When in doubt, just ask the character...

Would Jaskier have had what it took to call himself a "Buttercup"?

You bet your lovely bottom and bloated biceps he would have!

Still can't wrap my mind around him being a peeing-in-bed flower in English... Just... Nope! Does not compute.

[starfirewildheart]

The Wolf and the Flame

Summary: Geralt had just found Ciri and was headed to Kaer Morhen when something drew him into the woods. He found a woman near death and things changed for them all. (I suck at summaries just read please!) Yennefer is bad in the start of this but she and Geralt work on their friendship. Eskel is a dick at first but there is a reason and it works out. Will have a happy ending. Ciri is younger here than in the netflix show. She is about 12.

Warnings: abuse history, injuries, hurt comfort, no one under 18 to be safe, will add when I need to 

Words: 3,936

Chapter 1

Ciri was trying to hide her chuckle at Geralt’s low growl but couldn’t keep quiet. The red spot on his forehead was already fading to soft pink due to his witcher healing powers. She’d been frightened at the goat-like creature that had jumped from the bushes at first because it looked like the demons she’d read about in books. Geralt had told it to go away but it shot a metal ball at him from a slingshot, catching the witcher in the forehead with a loud thunk. After a low growled “fuck” Geralt was off of Roach and had the little menace pinned to the ground. The entire scene was more than funny to Ciri and even though Geralt cast her a very frustrated glare she couldn’t help but laugh. 

This lifestyle was a far cry from what she was accustomed to as the princess of Centra and coupled with the loss and trauma she’d suffered she was glad for the levity. It had only been four days since she’d managed to find her protector and while she felt safe with him she was still uncomfortable with what being someone’s ‘child surprise’ meant. What were the implications of being a child surprise? Was she to be the Witcher’s mate when she got older? Was he just to be her guardian? What was expected of her? Was he now her owner? Could he sell her if he wanted to? Did she have any say in what was going to become of her? There had been no time to ask any of these things because it seemed something was always trying to kidnap or kill her. She’d seen Geralt fight several times in just the short time they’d been together and as reluctant as she was to admit it, even to herself, the witcher intimidated her greatly.  

Geralt had led them to a small town to get a room for the night. Ciri had never been more grateful for a hot bath and a bed. At dinner, she was introduced to the bard, Jaskier, who had been performing at the inn. She was surprised Geralt and Jaskier were friends as they were so different. They were like night and day. She wasn’t happy when her protector left her with the bard with a simple rumbled, “Stay.” She protested but he told her he had to take a contract and earn some coin if they were going to continue to eat. She sat at the inn for nearly a full day before he returned. He was covered in blood and muck and what looked to be entrails as he swept into the bar. The silence was deafening as he approached the mayor of the town and dropped a cloth bag containing a severed Endrega head on the table in front of him. The next morning he used some of the coin to get a horse for Ciri and they headed off, that was two days ago. 

Ciri finally worked up the courage to speak. “Where are we going?”

“Dorian.”

The witcher was a man of very few words and sometimes having a conversation was like pulling teeth. “Why?”

“Information.” Geralt wasn’t trying to be difficult but something was off. He felt a hum throughout his body. It was similar to when a monster was near yet not quite the same and he didn’t know what it was. It had him on high alert and he was trying to focus on their surroundings. 

“Can you speak in full sentences?” she huffed softly thinking he wouldn’t hear her.

“Yes, I can,” he arched a brow in her direction. “I may be a mutant but I am an educated one.” Geralt hissed and cringed; his shoulder and back felt as if they had been licked by fire. He could feel blood trickling down his skin and pulled Roach to a stop

“I didn’t mean to…” she blushed. “Geralt?” she asked worriedly.

He was off his horse and removing his shirt with a hiss. “Fuck!” The air felt electric and the pull he felt was even stronger. He wanted to run into the woods and find whatever was doing this. He looked up when Ciri came to him. “Hand me the kit in my pack.”

“What happened?” she gasped as she saw the large slash that went from his right shoulder down to his waist in a slight inward arc.

“I don’t know.” He laid out the kit and found the healing potion he needed. He poured half of it down his back on the wound itself, the sting making him growl then he drank the rest. “What the fuck is happening?” he wondered aloud. 

Ciri took one of the bandages, wet it from one of the water skins and started gently dabbing at the bloodll. Geralt tensed, “you don’t have to do that.”

“I know I don’t but you can’t get to all of this to clean it on your own. What happens if it gets infected?” She took her hand and turned the witcher back around. She knew it was only because he allowed it but still she wanted to be of use. His muscles were rigid and tense the entire time she was touching him. “Am I hurting you?”

“No.” He tried to hide the unease in his voice. He wasn’t used to someone caring for his wounds unless he was at Kaer Morhen. It made him uncomfortable. 

“There, finished,” Ciri said as she got the last of the blood off his skin. The wound was no longer open and bleeding but it still looked very red and angry. 

Geralt pulled his other shirt from his bag and quickly put it on. “We need to keep moving.”

They rode in silence for a bit before Ciri spoke again. “Has anything like that ever happened to you before?”  

“Quiet” he whispered as he pulled Roach to a stop again. The feeling was much stronger now. It was pulling him toward the forest. Whatever it was that was guiding him didn’t seem dangerous but he couldn’t be sure. His first instinct was to ask Vesimer but of course, that would have to wait until he saw him at Kaer Morhen. For now, he had to trust his instincts. 

A loud wolf’s howl ripped through the air and made Ciri jump. “Geralt!” 

“Stay on your horse. You aren’t in any danger,” the witcher assured her. He slid off of Roach and handed her reins to Ciri. “Stay close.” He walked farther down the trail, sword at the ready. The scent of blood and sulfur hit him before he saw the remains of the first body. “Wait here.” 

Ciri was frightened but did as he told her. Somehow the witcher seemed to have a calming effect on her even though she was scared. 

Geralt walked farther away from the road into the woods and he saw a small camp. As he looked around the area he counted the bodies of about twenty Nilfgaard warriors littered on the ground. It looked as though they had been torn apart by animals and fed upon. They were in various stages of decomposition and dismemberment. Suddenly he saw movement. Someone was alive. He rushed over to the prone body and knelt down. 

Naurel saw someone approaching but did not have anything left in her to fight with. This was the end for her and she was grateful for it. The pain was finally over she thought to herself as she saw a giant cloaked figure approach. Just as hands reached for her the world faded to black.

Ciri gasped when she saw Geralt running back toward her with a woman in his arms. An unconscious, bloody woman. “What happened?”

“I don’t know. There seemed to be a fight of some sort. Maybe with a beast or animal, I’m not sure. She is the only survivor.” He knelt on the ground lowering her gently so he could examine her. “Get my bag and bring me the bandages and my kit,” he ordered as he moved to unbutton the top of the woman's dress. 

 Ciri knelt down beside him to help and she had to look away from all the gore. “What would do something like that?”

“No beast that I know of,” Geralt growled. “This was done by humans.” He wiped away all the dirt and blood he could in an attempt to help her. “This is beyond my skill,” he sighed. “We need to get her to Lakeside. They will have a healer and with any luck, Triss will be there.” He knew the sorceress frequented Lakeside and stayed there with the healer a lot. She enjoyed the quiet and the herbs that grew by the lake. Geralt lifted the woman onto Roach and climbed up behind her. “We must ride quickly. Keep up,” he ordered as he urged Roach on. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Triss smiled as she heard people start whispering about the approaching witcher. One thing about a small village was that news of visitors spread like wildfire. She was anxious to see Geralt. It had been too long. Her smile faded however when she opened the door and saw the near lifeless woman in his arms. “Get her on the table, quickly.”

Geralt laid the woman down and helped Triss start removing her dress. He noticed among the wounds was one just like the one he got on his back before finding her. “Found her in the woods. She was the only one left alive out of about twenty Nilfgaardian soldiers. No sign of what or who did this though.” They stopped short of bearing her completely. No one noticed Triss's friend the healer slip out the door.

“These wounds are not from a beast or animal Geralt. A human; likely a sorcerer or mage did this to her,” Triss worried. She turned to the young girl that was with them. “Fill the tub with hot water. Use the tea tree oil and add some of the liquid soap to the left.” She saw Geralt arch his brow in question. “There are so many wounds the best way to ensure we cleanse them all is to put her in a tub loaded with antiseptic. Normally I wouldn’t because it will be incredibly painful but she’s unconscious.”

Geralt removed his armor and dropped it on the floor out of the way before tossing his shirt aside as well. As soon as the water was ready they rid her of the last of her clothing and he lifted her into his arms. Carefully carrying her the few steps over and lowering her into the water. The maiden’s eyes snapped open at the searing pain and she started to thrash about and struggle. Geralt grabbed her wrists in both his hands and held her still. “Shh, you’re going to cause yourself further injury. We are here to help you. My name is Geralt and this is Triss. She is a sorceress. She’s going to heal you.” 

The maiden’s mouth opened to scream at her to get away but the only sound that escaped her was a wheezing rasp. She wanted nothing to do with another sorcerer. Why couldn’t she just die? What had she done to anger the gods enough to make them let this happen to her? She could feel the restraints around her wrists and it took a moment to register that they weren’t metal cuffs but huge hands holding her still. For the first time, she forced herself to focus on the looming figure above her. Her emerald green eyes met gold and she slowly calmed down. She didn’t know why but all the fight drained from her as his low, growling voice soothed her and her eyes slipped shut again.

Ciri positioned another bucket of water under the woman’s hair as it draped over the back of the tub. She began scrubbing and picking muck and bone fragments out of her hair while Triss and Geralt cleaned her body. Ciri couldn’t help but stare at the witcher as he gently cleaned and cradled the maiden's arms and legs. She hadn’t seen the gentle side of him and it helped her relax to know he wasn’t always such a brute as he seemed. 

The snarl Geralt let out when he started washing her feet made them all jump. Triss quickly moved to see what he was so upset about. There were bruises and lash marks from a cane where the bottoms of her feet had been beaten raw. “It’s a war crime,” he growled in answer to Triss’s unspoken question. “They do it so the person can’t stand to run away. I haven’t seen anything like this since Falka’s Rebellion.”

Once she was cleaned Geralt moved her back to the table and Triss covered her breasts and pelvis with towels to preserve what she could of her modesty. “I can’t heal all of this,” she sighed. “I can heal the internal injuries, probably the broken bones and the worst of the burns but she is going to have a very long recovery.”

Geralt nodded, “do what you can.” 

“Girl,” Triss called to Ciri, who was now sitting in a chair by the fire. “I need to go out behind the cabin and collect all the wildflowers you can for me. I need the stems to be about this long,” she showed her with her fingers.  “Take those two baskets and that cloth bag by the door. As quick as you can.” Ciri nodded and ran out the door. 

Triss pushed up her sleeves and prepared for a long session of healing. “ Hold her so she doesn’t hurt herself more. Healing bones is extremely painful and the burns won’t be much better.” Several hours and most of the flowers in the village later Triss was passed out in her bed, exhausted and Ciri was asleep in the den.

Geralt sat beside the woman and kept the fire going in the kitchen. He put his shirt back on but was too tired to even bother buttoning it as he leaned back in one chair and put his feet up in another. He finally took the time to really look at her and study her features now that she was stable. Her hair was fire red, her skin as pale as his own, and her eyes almost crystal green. She was tall, with long legs, slender but muscular build. He could tell she was used to hard work be it on a farm or as a servant. She had several scars on her back and legs that looked like she’d been whipped and beaten throughout her life and he wondered where she’d come from. He took her small hand in his large one. “Who are you m’lady and what drew me to you?” he asked.

[samstree]

A Careless Omission

Jaskier reveals he has a type. Geralt behaves strangely. (Or, the "Jaskier likes a dilf" fic, 2.9k, on ao3)

Jaskier doesn’t try to hide his interest.

His face has been slowly heating up with a blush, his lips worried and bitten with nervousness. It nearly makes him feel like a blushing maiden at the sight of her first crush, stomach fluttering and all. Who can blame him? His eyes have been caught by the barkeep since he sat down at the table.

Distantly, he knows Geralt is able to tell, sitting in front of him across the table. A witcher’s senses are too sharp for Jaskier to hide his intentions for anyone they meet on the road, but there’s no room for self-consciousness. His attention is away, following the other man as he works.

The barkeep is tall and burly, with wide shoulders and long legs, hair slightly wet with sweat from working in the kitchens. A few strands of grey hair pepper his brown curls beautifully, as well as his well-groomed beard. The simple clothing cannot hide the taut muscles underneath. Every time he rolls up the sleeves to show the strong lines of his forearm, Jaskier lets out an audible gasp.

Meeting Jaskier’s eyes, he comes to their table and serves two cups of ale with a bright, warm smile.

A bright, warm smile, and a little girl trailing behind him.

“Aww,” Jaskier whispers to Geralt as the man walks away. “Look at him with his daughter.”

The barkeep has brought his daughter to work. The girl looks no older than six, demanding bedtime stories and tugging at his apron constantly. He has to gently coax her to let him finish work first, all the while leaning down to kiss her on the head.

Jaskier’s breath catches, the hammering of his heart so loud he can practically hear it in his ears.

“Hmm.”

Geralt only gives a noncommittal hum while sipping his ale.

“Here we go.” The barkeep returns to their table with two bowls of soup, his smile still bright despite the late hour and his daughter’s chirping. “How do you find our establishment, kind sirs? Hope you liked the ale?”

Before Jaskier can chat up the guy, Geralt cuts in quickly.

“A bit sour,” he says, seemingly grouchier than usual. “And the place is loud.”

It’s entirely too rude, but before Jaskier can apologize for his friend, the barkeep scratches his head shyly and does it first, which makes him all the lovelier.

“Apologies,” he says sincerely. “My Lucja can be a menace when she’s tired. It’s a shame her bedtime happens to be our rush hour. She’s not bothering you too much, is she?”

“No, no!” Jaskier answers, rather too eagerly. “She’s adorable! I hope she’s not making your job difficult, is all.”

Jaskier’s face becomes even hotter when he takes his bowl, their fingers brushing, lingering. Finally, the barkeep is looking at Jaskier properly. His smile grows, stretching almost to his ears.

They hold each other’s gaze, until Geralt sets down his cup suddenly, much louder than necessary, breaking the moment.

“It can get hard at times, but I don’t mind,” the barkeep answers, eyeing Geralt for a moment before turning his attention back to Jaskier. “She’s the best thing that ever happened to me, you see. I’d choose raising her on my own every time.”

“Oh? Where is her mother?” Jaskier frowns.

“I do not know where she is, sir, nor Lucja’s real father, for she was left at my doorstep as a babe. I meant to send her to the orphanage, but in the end, I just couldn’t see a little girl without a home. She is as much my daughter as she can be. We are a family, as destiny intended.”

What a sweet, sweet man.

Jaskier holds his chest as the fluttering inside intensifies. He’s nearly melting on the spot “Aww…” he sighs softly. “Such sadness, and such a happy ending. You truly are a kind man, sir…?”

“Andrej.”

“I’m Jaskier.” They shake hands, lingering some more.

“Still, it must get lonely for you, being on your own. Would you ever seek other forms of companionship, Andrej, when the long nights are difficult to pass?”

The hopeful hint hides so well under the concern in Jaskier’s voice. He’d like to think he’s rather smooth in his probing, after all these years.

“Well.” Andrej looks as flushed as Jaskier feels. His eyes lower, before lifting up again, looking at Jaskier from under his lashes. “I try to find company when I can, but none as fine as yourself, Jaskier.”

He drags out Jaskier’s name, patiently, sensually, making his bones hum.

The man leaves Jaskier with a suggestive look, and finds Lucja again. He lifts the girl easily, muttering about how he can finally tuck her in bed now. They disappear upstairs, with the girl draped over Andrej’s shoulder, her cheeks round with happiness.

Jaskier stares at them as they leave, eyes following the man until he cannot see them any longer, and then turns back with a dreamy sigh. He stirs his soup absently, occasionally letting out a goofy smile and a quiet giggle, ears still burning. Thoughts of Andrej fill the whole world, his eyes, his smile, his loving heart.

Jaskier knows he’s quickly, entirely, and head over heels, falling in love.

He lets out another giggle at the thought.

Their interaction replays over and over in Jaskier’s head, making him completely oblivious to his surroundings.

Out of nowhere, Geralt clears his throat.

“Oh, dear!” Jaskier startles, blinking. “Geralt, um… You are… still here.”

Huh, he seems to have completely forgotten about Geralt.

“My, my,” Geralt snorts. He looks like he’s trying very hard not to roll his eyes. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

Jaskier has no intention of being mortified. He is no longer capable of that emotion when the stars align and hit him with a spell of love. Still, he gives some attention to his friend.

“Sorry, I was a little… beside myself,” he says, his spirit too high to be ruined by Geralt’s inexplicably bad mood. “You know,” Jaskier whispers, revealing the great secret. “It’s my weakness.”

“Weakness?” Geralt narrows his eyes.

“Yes, a man like Andrej.” Jaskier’s eyes brighten in fondness. “I happen to have no resistance around a good father like him.”

A pause of silence, and Geralt squints harder.

“A good… father,” he states, very, very slowly.

“Of course! Did you not notice? He was so good with his daughter earlier, so gentle and loving. I bet he tells the best bedtime stories, and little Lucja will want for nothing in her life. Oh, I cannot help myself, and I—” Jaskier sighs, once again. The amount of sighing today is a bit excessive, even for a poet. He’s well aware. “I think I’m falling in love.”

Geralt looks like he’s trying to suppress a growl, but ends up with an unpleasant grimace.

And Jaskier takes issue with that. He makes an unhappy noise.

“Oh, stop with that face. I know you want to mock me,” Jaskier admonishes, mouth forming a pout. “But I am not ashamed, I’ll have you know. I see being a good father as one of the most attractive qualities in a man, if not the most attractive! Though I admit, I have a soft spot, especially for him. Did you hear the story? To think Andrej took in an orphan girl under such tragic circumstances, just to give her a home… How can my heart not go out to him?”

Jaskier looks into the distance, lapsing into silence. The soup is no longer hot, and he digs into it slowly, mood still chirpy and stomach still full of warm fuzziness.

For some reason, Geralt keeps staring at Jaskier.

He seems offended, even.

“Hmm,” Geralt deadpans, stressing every word. “You are in love, because he is a good father?”

“Mm-hmm,” Jaskier hums absently.

Geralt stares for another moment, and another, his food and drink forgotten. It’s disconcerting. He simply slurps his soup loudly, filling the silence.

Tentatively, Geralt opens his mouth, and closes it, and then, he does it again a few times more.

Jaskier raises an eyebrow. Geralt does the same.

“What?” The bard is running out of patience.

“Nothing,” Geralt answers at the end, rather pointedly, looking directly at Jaskier. “So… Ciri.”

Jaskier blinks at the non sequitur. “Hmm?”

“You do remember her,” Geralt adds, “Ciri?”

Frowning, Jaskier is slightly concerned for Geralt’s sanity. Or his.

“Yes? I’ve not suffered a blow to the head, Geralt. I remember Ciri.”

“Just checking.”

The tiniest pout forms around Geralt’s mouth, a hint of dissatisfaction tugging at his lips like an overgrown child. His eyes are still boring into Jaskier’s face. He pauses for a beat, as if waiting for Jaskier to catch up on something.

Jaskier is even more confused about the weird mood of his witcher. He waits with bated breath for a moment longer, but Geralt is still looking at him expectantly.

Losing patience, Jaskier gestures for him to go on. “Well, what about Ciri?”

Geralt sighs, somehow sounding defeated.

“She wrote to me,” he says, finally dropping the grouchy tone when talking about Ciri. “I got the letter today.”

“Oh.” The mention of Ciri’s letter brings joy to Jaskier’s heart. The girl tends to write to them sporadically during her travels, and Geralt always discusses everything about her with Jaskier. It’s nice to hear from their little witcher-princess, who is actually not so little anymore. “That’s good, Geralt. What did she say?”

Taking a very deep breath, Geralt continues.

“She’s traveling, mostly. Took contracts here and there. Also—” Geralt says carefully, “said she missed me.”

“Yeah?” Jaskier smiles, proudly.

“Yeah, you know. She does… um, miss me, because I—um, you know, I’m her…” Geralt doesn’t finish the sentence, but leaves room for it to be finished. With what, Jaskier isn’t sure.

But Jaskier’s heart twists in sympathy. He misses Ciri dearly too, and it could explain Geralt’s strange behavior today, so he tries something else. “You know, we could visit her,” he suggests. “Write back, see if we can meet up and travel together for a while.”

Geralt’s eyebrows lift, ever so slightly, at those words.

“We can,” he agrees, voice lighter. “And… you remember how she has nightmares. If we travel together, I can stay with her at night until she falls asleep.” He thinks for a second. “Tell her a story or two, chase away the bad dreams, perhaps. It is my duty for her, as she is my… um, Ciri.”

The phrasing is perplexing. She is… all of their Ciri, of course. There’s no telling why Geralt said it like that.

“That’s a shame.” Still, Jaskier doesn’t like the idea of their little girl having nightmares, but then— “Wait, does she still let you tuck her in? She’s turning… twenty this summer, I believe? And now an independently working witcher. Isn’t she too old?”

It seems to dawn on Geralt too.

“Oh.” He blinks. “So she is,” Geralt splutters. “Never mind, then.”

Jaskier can’t blame him. Sometimes, they both forget how fast their little girl grows. She is now a proper grown woman, slaying monsters with better witchering skills and magical powers than anyone could have imagined.

He understands Geralt’s tendency for nostalgia, though. When you find a scared little girl and help her become this confident version of herself over the course of a decade, you’d want to linger in those memories, even though she can easily stand on her own feet now.

“Still, I believe it if you say so,” Jaskier muses. “She’s been through so much before, and past hurt fades slowly. Seeing you could be good for her too.”

Geralt looks down, suddenly stabbing the gooey soup with his spoon as if it’s a particularly difficult fiend. After a moment, he sighs. The excessive sighing seems to be catching on today.

For all of Geralt’s emotional constipation Jaskier has witnessed over the years, today’s grumpy episode is truly a bad one. And then, he thinks more about Geralt’s behavior all day, mentioning Ciri out of nowhere, insisting that she still needs care even though she’s grown. It’s nearly like Geralt is trying to make up for something, or drive a point home.

It’s just that Jaskier has been missing the point all along.

It clicks, all of a sudden.

Oh.

Of course.

How could he be so blind?

“Oh, I see.” He places a hand on Geralt’s arm, exhaling in relief. “Forgive me, Geralt dear, but I see it now.”

“You do?” Hope shines in Geralt’s eyes.

���I do!” Jaskier confirms. “It’s terrible I have not realized earlier. I have been incredibly neglectful of you.”

Eyes wide with hope, Geralt seems to have stopped breathing in anticipation. “Go on,” he prompts.

“It all makes sense. You have been acting weird since we sat down, and with me fussing over Andrej and his daughter…” Jaskier states gently, eyes bright. “Your guilt is acting up again! Am I correct?”

Geralt is frozen like a statue, incredulous.

He must want to deny it, but everything about him says he’s been caught off guard, which means Jaskier must be right on point. He pats himself on the back mentally, proud for having figured out his witcher’s internal struggles. After a few decades, he has become an expert in reading Geralt’s every mood.

Jaskier pulls the chair to the side of the table so they sit closer together, their knees touching. He wraps an arm around Geralt, hands running small circles on his back, a familiar soothing motion for when his witcher’s mind is being unkind to him.

“Um, Jask…”

“You don’t need to deny it, you know.” It’s silly that Geralt still has trouble accepting Jaskier’s help sometimes, so he remains patient. “It’s perfectly reasonable, with Ciri traveling alone, being away from your protection. You still feel responsible for her, as you should. The bond between the two of you is stronger than destiny itself.”

Geralt pinches between his eyes, looking torn. “You don’t need to tell me these things, Jask. That’s… really not what I’m thinking.”

This ridiculous, stubborn man. Jaskier shakes his head.

“Nonsense. You don’t need to hide it from me, Geralt. It’s only me.” Jaskier smiles encouragingly. “I’m always here when you have these doubts. Always. Ciri has to leave you—leave all of us—precisely because you’ve taught her well. You have prepared her in every way you can, and now the world will see what she can do.” He hugs Geralt tighter, knowing his touch is comforting for Geralt in these bouts of self-deprecation. “It’s okay to feel at a loss, but it’s not like she’ll never need you again. You are her father, and nothing will ever change that.”

The words settle quietly, genuinely, and Jaskier feels the tenseness in Geralt’s body fade. He takes pride in himself again, a grin stretching across his face, feeling incredibly achieved.

“Yes,” Geralt whispers, looking directly into Jaskier’s eyes. Their faces are only a hand’s breadth away, his tone intimate and sincere. “I am her father.”

“That’s the spirit,” Jaskier agrees happily. “You are the best father she could ever ask for.”

“Yeah?”

Geralt breathes in, his gaze lowering. They are leaning into each other’s space, with barely any distance in between. Jaskier’s hand is still wrapped around Geralt’s shoulder, and now Geralt has placed a hand on Jaskier’s knee.

For some reason, the fluttering in Jaskier’s stomach returns. The sensation is such a surprise that he nearly falls out of the chair.

“Geralt…”

“Jaskier, look,” Geralt breathes, lips parting, “I—”

Before he could finish a sentence, they are interrupted by someone coming down the stairs, their footsteps echoing loudly in the tavern. Jaskier snaps his attention away in an instant.

Oh, Andrej is back!

Jaskier lets out a delighted squeal, all thoughts replaced by the barkeep’s warm smile.

“Hold that thought, dear,” Jaskier says absently, patting Geralt on the back. “I should be… going.”

“But I—”

Geralt’s eyes are wide, darting between Andrej and Jaskier.

Jaskier stands up, checking on Geralt again. “Hmm? What is it? Do you still need me here?”

He would stay with Geralt, comforting him for the rest of the night if those old insecurities still plague his friend. A good night with a handsome and kind man will always come second when it comes to Geralt, but…

But, but, but…

Jaskier’s heart is already soaring away.

Luckily, the moment of panic in Geralt’s eyes fades into calm acceptance.

“Nothing,” Geralt says, resigned with a quiet smile. “I don’t need you here, Jaskier. You should go.”

His posture goes slack. It must be the relief after all of Jaskier’s words, all the doubt eased, judging from the way Geralt’s face morphs into an emotionless neutrality. Once again, Jaskier mentally pats himself on the back for having cracked the problem.

He beams at the thought, bending down to press a good night kiss on Geralt’s cheek, who lets out a little gasp, leaning into the chaste kiss.

“Don’t wait up!”

Jaskier winks before turning away, not looking back again. When he takes Andrej’s hand, there’s even a spring in his steps.

Oh, Jaskier should be allowed to feel a little smug, just a little bit. He has had the most wonderful night. On top of seeing right through Geralt’s emotional turmoil, he’s also landed himself a fine companion until morning.

The wonderful night can still get a lot better, he thinks.

[thedemonofcat]

Geralt gets turned into a little kid temporarily.

During that time, he doesn’t remember his life as an adult. Jaskier enjoys pampering the young Geralt, who swiftly develops a crush on the bard. A big crush that leads to him proposing to Jaskier.

The bard accepts, not taking the offer seriously but finding the young witcher very sweet.

What he didn’t account for though was that adult Geralt would keep the memories from revisiting his childhood.

And he treats their “engagement” as completely legitimate and serious.

The tavern pulsed with energy, a vibrant atmosphere that Jaskier thrived in. The evening had started promisingly—his music resonated with the crowd, and Geralt was no longer burdened by the child-transforming curse. However, the jovial mood took a dark turn when an intoxicated patron became overly familiar with Jaskier.

"Have another drink," the inebriated man slurred, forcefully pressing a glass of spirits against Jaskier's lips.

"I appreciate the offer, but I must decline," Jaskier replied, attempting to extricate himself from the situation. However, the drunk's grip on his waist remained unyielding.

The man persisted, his voice thick with alcohol, "Come on, we just want to see you loosen up a bit." Jaskier's eyes darted around, searching for an escape route, but before he could formulate a response, a blur of motion caught his attention.

With a resounding thud, the drunk found himself sprawled on the floor, courtesy of Geralt's powerful fist.

Geralt's voice cut through the sudden silence, low and menacing, "My fiancé told you to back off."