#and ciri may be the lady of time and space but i think the space part is a bit more important

[roughentumble]

*sits bolt upright in bed*

yen as witch of time, ciri as witch of space, geralt as knight of blood

[starwrittenfates]

❝ Hatred and vengeance blinded me ... But I shall stand before them in humility. I shall remember the expression in their eyes. I hope the memory of those eyes will stop me making a similar mistake. ❞

↳ 𝙿𝙾𝚃𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙸𝙰𝙻 𝚂𝙷𝙸𝙿𝚂 — Ciri/Avallac'h, Ciri/Cahir, Ciri/Cerys , Ciri/OC, etc.

↳ 𝚆𝙰𝙽𝚃𝙴𝙳 𝙲𝙾𝙽𝙽𝙴𝙲𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂 — Geralt, Yennefer, Dandelion, etc.

↳ NOTE: As the Lady of Space & Time, Ciri has the ability to crossover into any universe and time freely. She doesn't have to stick to the world of the Witcher.

THREADS || NAVIGATION || STUDY || VERSE 1 || VERSE 2 ||

BASICS.

FULL NAME: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon

NAME MEANING: Cirilla = Swallow 

NICKNAMES/TITLES: Ciri, Lion Cub of Cintra, Zireael, Swallow, Ashen One, Lady of Space and Time, The Lady of the Worlds,  Lady of the Lake, Ciri of Vengerberg

AGE + DOB: 20s / May 1st, 1252

GENDER/PRONOUNS: Female - She/Her

ORIENTATION: Bisexual

SPECIES: Human

OCCUPATION: Witcheress, Princess of Cintra

APPEARANCE.

FACECLAIM: Video Game & Freya Allan

HAIR COLOR: Ashen-Gray

EYE COLOR: Emerald-Green

SCARS:

OTHER REMARKABLE FEATURES:

BACKGROUND.

BIRTHPLACE: Skellige

CURRENT HOME: Verse Dependent

NATIONALITY/ETHNICITY: Human/Cintran

LANGUAGES: Ellylon, Elder Speech, Common

PARENTS: Pavetta (Biological Mother, Deceased), Emhyr var Emreis (Biological Father), Geralt of Rivia (Adoptive Father), Yennefer of Vengerberg (Adoptive Mother)

SIBLINGS: N/A

SIGNIFICANT OTHER: None

CHILDREN: None

OTHER FAMILY MEMBERS: Vesemir (Adoptive Grandfather), Eskel (Adoptive Uncle), Lambert (Adoptive Uncle), Lara Dorren (Ancestor), Calanthe Fiona Riannon (Grandmother)

NOTABLE RELATIONSHIPS: TBA

PSYCHOLOGY/MIND.

MYERS-BRIGGS: ESFP - The Entertainer

ENNEAGRAM TYPE: Type 7 - The Enthusiast

MORAL ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Good

CHARACTER TRAITS: Adventureous, Compassionate, Witty, Stubborn, 

LIKES: TBA

DISLIKES: TBA

ZODIAC: TBA

FEARS & PHOBIAS: TBA

WISHES & DREAMS: TBA

CHARACTER TROPES: Action Girl, Ambiguously Bi, Anti-Hero, Apocalypse Maiden, Badass Adorable, Benevolent Mage Ruler, Blemished Beauty, Blessed with Suck, Bratty Half-Pint, Break the Cutie, Changed My Mind Kid, Cheerful Child, The Chosen One, Covered in Scars, Cuddle Bug, Daddy's Girl, Deuteragonist, Dimensional Traveler, Distaff Counterpart, Doom Magnet, Dreaming of Things to Come, Dude Magnet, Eager Rookie, Embarrassing Nickname, Embarrassing Tattoo, Everyone Went to School Together, Faking the Dead, Flash Step, The Good Queen, Happily Adopted, The Heart, Heroic BSoD, Hiding the Handicap, I Just Want to Be Normal, Last of Her Kind, Little Miss Badass, Living MacGuffin, Mystical White Hair, New Parent Nomenclature Problem, New Powers as the Plot Demands, One-Man Army, One of the Boys, Oracular Urchin, Parental Abandonment, Person of Mass Destruction, The Pollyanna, Powerful and Helpless, Princess in Rags, Princess Protagonist, Red Baron, Royal Brat, Screw This I'm Outta Here!, She's All Grown Up, Tangled Family Tree, This Is Something He's Got to Do Himself, Tomboy with a Girly Streak, Took a Level in Badass, Took a Level in Jerkass, Traumatic Superpower Awakening, Unskilled but Strong, 

SKILLS & ABILITIES.

Master Swordswoman

Master Acrobat

Hand-to-Hand Combat

Elder Blood (Blink & Dimension Travel)

PERSONALITY.

Ciri is impulsive and opportunistic. Much like her adoptive father, Geralt, she excels at thinking on her feet, without an immediate plan, living in the moment. Throughout the third game, Ciri is constantly switching between space and time, and while it tires her, she is quick to adapt to the various situations she is thrown in to. Ciri wants to do something. She reacts outward, when happy, angry or sad, and feels better after trashing a room to let out her frustrations; she prefers this instead of talking about her actual feelings. Geralt can cheer her up through physical games, like a snowball fight, to lighten her mood after a traumatic experience. Ciri rarely puts much thought behind her actions if they seem to work in the current moment, but she does have tendencies to think of a larger, more meaningful perspective. This is most prevalent in her final decision in the third game, where she gives herself momentum and impulsivity to put herself in a life threatening situation, and be motivated by the decision of thinking of her choice as a sacrifice for the entire world. Ciri matures throughout the story. 

She is very idealistic, and very black and white in her thinking. Much of her confronting behavior comes from a low-order Te, making her seem controlling and abrasive in stressful situations. She largely keeps her vulnerability closely guarded, but opens up among trusted people. Many of her decisions are motivated by wanting to do the right thing, even though saving the world seems impossible at times. Ciri has a good heart, and is willing to sacrifice herself and put herself in danger to help other people she deems innocent and worthy of help – largely innocent villagers and children. Regarding people she does not respect, there is no such love, and Ciri has no qualms going against them. Ciri lacks nuance in her moral compass, especially when judging others for their behavior. At times, Fi and Te combines to an unwilling and unbending front, where Ciri refuses to consider other aspects, because she has assessed the situation and deemed it against her morals. She has arguments with Yennefer because Yennefer values the bigger picture over moral details, and Ciri refuses to put her feelings at low priority.Ciri doesn’t hesitate. She believes in action and bravery, putting yourself out there and sacrificing yourself for a good cause. She is also very competitive. “Free Spirit” is a very fitting descriptor of Ciri. She is fun-loving and opportunistic, but with survival instincts that aggressively defends her position. Ciri also has a strong sense of self and identity, mixing some idealization in a strong and free-spirited outlook on life.

BIOGRAPHY.

After the Witcher Geralt of Rivia lifted a curse from Duny, the Urcheon of Erlenwald, he demanded from Duny his wife Pavetta's firstborn child, a child he had but didn't know he had, due to the Law of Surprise. Six years to the day after the child's birth, Geralt went back to Cintra for her, but did not take her with him to Kaer Morhen at that time. In fact, he didn't even lay eyes on her and only spoke with Calanthe. The Queen divulged no information to him, not even the child's gender. This child was named Cirilla.

While she was still an infant, Ciri's parents were both lost in a storm at sea. They were presumed dead. She spent her youth in Cintra and the Skellige Islands, cared for by her grandmother. Ciri first met Geralt when she was lost in the forest of Brokilon. She was nearly taken by the dryads, who wished to make her one of their own. The Queen of the dryads, Eithné, unexpectedly let the girl choose her own future. Ciri chose Geralt, and wished to stay with him after they left Brokilon. However, the Witcher would not take her with him. Instead, he left her with the druid Mousesack who was working for Calanthe. Then came the slaughter of Cintra.

During the Nilfgaardian invasion of Cintra, Ciri was kidnapped by a Nilfgaardian knight named Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach, though his identity was not known at the time. She managed to escape and wandered aimlessly for some time through Sodden until she was ultimately adopted by a merchant's family.

Coincidentally, Geralt had been helped by that same merchant and transported to his home. Thus, Ciri and Geralt were once again united. This time the Witcher took her with him to Kaer Morhen, where, under the supervision of Triss Merigold she underwent partial Witcher training, sans mutations, with Geralt, Vesemir, Lambert, Eskel and Coën. It was there that it was confirmed that Ciri was a source.

Geralt and Triss later took her to the Temple of Melitele in Ellander where she received instruction from Nenneke, and then from Yennefer, who began Ciri's magical training in earnest. As news of war began to spread, Ciri and Yennefer left Ellander for Gors Velen and ultimately Thanedd Island and Aretuza where the sorceress intended to enroll the girl as well as attend a conference of mages.

Things did not work out as planned though, not by a long shot. There was a coup during the conference and several individuals including Vilgefortz and Cahir tried to capture Ciri once again, and once again failed with the girl escaping through an unstable magical portal in Tor Lara. Because of the portal's nature, Ciri was simply ejected in mid-air over the Korath desert.

Unaware of where she was and without obvious recourse, the girl decided to make her way out of the wasteland by heading west. Unfortunately she wandered around in circles for some time before deciding to use the stars as a guide. She nearly died of exhaustion, dehydration and starvation. Luckily to her she met a unicorn whom she nicknamed Horsey that helped her out of the Frying Pan (a folk name for the deadly desert).

Ciri, who was still undergoing an emotional tribulation, then joined the Rats, a group of ne'er-do-wells she met when they were rescuing one of their members, under the name Falka. Bounty hunter Leo Bonhart was hired by Stefan Skellen to kill Ciri and by baron Casadei to capture her alive. Bonhart killed the Rats and cut off their heads after their deaths. He neither killed Ciri, nor brought her to baron Casadei, therefore not fullfilling his contracts. Bonhart imprisoned her for some time, beating her, mistreating and forcing her to kill in the arena at Claremont, which belonged to his cousin Houvenaghel.

Ciri managed to escape with the help of Neratin Ceka when Bonhart had taken her to the village of Unicorn on the eve of the equinox. He had gone to meet with Skellen and Rience and possibly negotiate some terms to release Ciri. Bonhart then killed Neratin Ceka, and Skellen seriously wounded Ciri, disfiguring her with an orion as she fled the village on her mare, Kelpie.

Later, she was found, near death by Vysogota of Corvo, who hid and healed at his hermitage in the Pereplut swamp. She stayed with Vysogotha until shortly after Saovine when she set off to find the Swallow's tower.

Together with Skellen and Rience, Bonhart tried to hunt her down on the order of Vilgefortz. Eventually, she escaped to Tor Zireael.

Being a twin tower to Tor Lara, Tor Zireael had a portal which led Cirilla to the world of the Aen Elle elves. There she was greeted by Avallac'h, an Aen Saevherne. He explained to her that she had to 'pay the debt' referring to the perceived loss to the Aen Elle when Lara Dorren took Cregennan of Lod as her lover. The elves believed that the latter had 'stolen' Elder Blood from them by marrying Lara. To atone for that 'crime' Avallac'h wanted Ciri to beget a child with Auberon Muircetach, the king of the Aen Elle. That being the only way Avallac'h would let her return to her own world. On their way to Tir ná Lia, the Aen Elle capital, they met Eredin and his Dearg Ruadhri. Ciri was initially quite infatuated with him - he realised that and tried to use it to control her. They also came across a pack of unicorns which appeared to be at war with Aen Elle.

In Tir na Lia Ciri finally met Auberon, who many times tries to conceive a child with her, however he could not - to him she was just a human, a being of no interest for an Aen Elle. Nevertheless he was very proud and refused to admit it. Eredin suggested using a 'potion' which would improve Auberon's performance and allow him to conceive a child with Cirilla. He also told her the truth (probably to gain her trust) - that Avallac'h would never let her go. Knowing this, Ciri found help with the unicorns where she also met Horsey/Ihuarraquax, by then fully grown. The unicorns explained that both Fox and Sparrowhawk had once possessed The Gate of the Worlds, a mystical power known only to those of the Elder Blood but they had lost it. Now they wanted these powers back and for that they needed Ciri. This could not be allowed, however and the unicorns explained to Cirilla how she should escape.

That same day Ciri once again visited Auberon only to find that he had drunk the 'potion' given to him by Eredin. Unknown to Sparrowhawk it happened to be too strong and killed Auberon. That night Ciri attempted to escape Tir na Lia and its barrier by using a boat and swimming with the river's current. She was stopped by Eredin who then revealed his true intentions, being the same as Avallac'h's. The two battled and Ciri proved victorious due to the elf's underestimation of her abilities - she wounded him and threw him into the river. Later on she mounted Kelpie and rode away from Tir na Lia. She met Horsey who offered his help (actually his being by Ciri's side was a part of her bargain with the other unicorns). They came across a huge pile of bones. To her horror, Ciri realised that the skulls had human teeth making them a pile of human bones. Ihuarraquax explained that it had been a human world until the elves led by Fox and Sparrowhawk arrived and killed them all - this also would be the fate of other worlds, including Ciri's own, should Avallac'h and Eredin succeed in once again harnessing the power of time and space. Nevertheless, Ihuarraquax and Ciri realised that they were being chased. Horsey urged Ciri to jump to another world - the only way to escape. She, however didn't know how. The unicorn became her guide and they jumped. This led to the manifestation of Ciri's strongest power, giving her the title of The Lady of the Worlds. That power allowed her to traverse space and time at will. Not being able to control it, however, Ciri had to journey through many different worlds to finally find her own.

THE WITCHER 3: WILD HUNT

In the prologue, Geralt experiences a dream where he trains a younger Ciri at Kaer Morhen. However, the dream turns into a nightmare, as the Wild Hunt appears, freezing everyone, including Ciri, with Geralt helpless to act.

Having hidden in another world for over half a year the Wild Hunt found Ciri forcing her to flee. At some point Ciri discovered that Geralt had been captured by the Wild Hunt and managed to free him and send him to the forests outside of Kaer Morhen although he lost his memory in the process.

Several months later Ciri along with an elf called Avallac'h returned from another world ending up in Skellige where the Wild Hunt found and attacked them cursing Avallac'h and forcing Ciri to teleport away. This lead her to appear in Crookback Bog where she collapsed and was found by the Crones. The Crones intended to give her to the Wild Hunt however knew that she possessed Elder blood and could not decide whether to cut her up for her blood or not. Ciri realising this escaped and fled into the nearby forest, narrowly evading Imlerith. Traveling west into Velen, she encountered a young girl who was lost and rescued her as well as a local man from a werewolf. She was then taken to Crow's Perch and taken in by Philip Strenger (known as the Bloody Baron) who alongside with his men she befriended. During a race with Philip the two are attacked by a monster and Ciri was forced to use her powers to save him. However, Ciri realised that Wild Hunt would sense her powers so she left Crow's Perch and headed to Novigrad.

Ciri tracked down Dandelion to enlist his help in repairing a phylactery to lift the curse on Avallac'h, though she excluded the identity of her friend. Dandelion suggested going to Cyprian "Whoreson Junior" Willy. Willy later turned on them, capturing and torturing their friend Dudu. Ciri managed to rescue Dudu but her activities got the attention of the Temple Guard, who chased her towards Temple Isle. Just as an crossbowman took a shot at her, Ciri teleported herself to safety.

Ciri teleported all the way to Skellige, where she fell unconscious, dropping into a lake. Avallac'h found her and gave her to the safety of a native Skelliger, Skjall, and his family. When she came to, Ciri accepted the invitation to heal at the local sauna. But soon as she prepared to depart, the Wild Hunt descended on the village, forcing Ciri to flee once more. She found her way to Avallac'h, who was waiting with a boat. But upon seeing Skjall being cut down by a Red Rider, she attempted to turn back to help him, but Avallac'h stunned her with a sleeping spell and took her to the Isle of Mists to hide her from the Hunt.

Ciri was taken in by a company of seven dwarves, who were also stranded on the Isle. She is later found by Geralt, who had managed to lift the curse on Avallac'h, who gave him a magical firefly to lead him to the Isle. After gaining the trust of the dwarves, whose number had been reduced to five, Geralt is allowed to see Ciri. Seeing her prone form, he assumed her dead, until the firefly merges with her, stirring the young woman awake. Geralt and Ciri catch up on what happened to the latter. Ciri reveals Eredin's motive for pursuing her, explaining that the Aen Elle world faces annihilation, so the King of the Hunt seeks to use her to power the portal to allow his army to conquer the Continent, even at the risk of Ciri's life.

As they prepare to leave, they discover the dwarves had taken Geralt's boat and fled the Isle, before spotting the Wild Hunt's flagship, the Naglfar, in the distance, forcing Ciri to teleport them directly to Kaer Morhen. Upon arrival, Ciri is happily reunited with Vesemir, Yennefer and Triss.

However, the time for celebration was cut short, as the Hunt would soon assault the aging keep. Ciri was ordered to remain inside the keep while everyone else defended her. Triss provided Ciri with a magical amulet to call down a magical fireball. However, Ciri defies orders and goes to help Triss when she came under attack by Hunt warriors. She later assisted Eskel against Caranthir, before the Hunt general hears a war horn signalling him to retreat.

Ultimately, the Hunt breaches Kaer Morhen, freezing everyone except for Ciri and Vesemir. They are then attacked by Imlerith, allowing Eredin to finally get a hold of Ciri. But as he dragged her towards a portal, Vesemir breaks off from Imlerith and engages Eredin, forcing the elf to release Ciri. As Imlerith charged at the elderly witcher, Vesemir used Aard to push Ciri away as the large elf lifts him up by the throat. Surrounded by the Wild Hunt and with her mentor held hostage, Ciri dropped her sword in surrender. However, Vesemir stabbed Imlerith, prompted the general to snap his neck, killing him. In grief and anguish, Ciri unleashed a magical scream that affected the Hunt. Calanthir conjured a portal, which Imlerith fled through, but Eredin desperately stumbled towards Ciri. Calanthir recognized his king would die in the attempt and forcibly dragged Eredin through the portal. But Ciri's power had gone out of control, threatening to kill everyone in Kaer Morhen had not Avallac'h intervened and stopped her.

While cremating Vesemir, Ciri started to regret returning to Kaer Morhen, despite Geralt's attempts to calm her, as she snatched Vesemir's medallion off the pyre. Subsequently, Ciri tried to involve herself in a discussion between Geralt, Avallac'h, Yennefer and Triss over reassembling the Lodge of Sorceresses to fight the Hunt. She becomes angry that decisions are being made without her and departs their company.

A few days later, Ciri becomes disheartened that her training with Avallac'h hadn't be progressing well. Geralt can either cheer her up with a snowball fight or sour her with Lambert's famous home brew.

Ciri later stirs Geralt early in the morning, revealing she had discovered Imlerith was attending a sabbath on Bald Mountain in Velen, as would the Crones, though she hadn't told Avallac'h of her plans. Geralt can suggest visiting her biological father, Emperor Emhyr var Emreis, in Vizima first or go to Bald Mountain immediately.

If Geralt and Ciri go to meet Emhyr, the latter addresses her by all her titles as nobles and soldiers kneel before her. He then presents the second half of Geralt's payment as thanks for finding his daughter. Whether Geralt accepts or not affects Ciri. Ciri then engages in private conversation with Emhyr but later stormed out, angry at his attempts to buy her.

A few weeks later, Geralt and Ciri arrive at Bald Mountain and are forced to contend with the local celebration, which ends in them being sent to a sylvan named Fugas for execution. After slaying the monster, Ciri plays a game of rock, paper, scissors, to decide who will face the Crones and who would slay Imlerith. Ciri lost the game and thus went to confront the Crones. She interrupts them while they were stirring a cauldron full of human remains, prompting them to transform from beautiful women into their true, hideous forms. Ciri managed to slay Brewess and Whispess but Weavess managed to escape with Vesemir's medallion.

Their mission a success, the pair head for Novigrad, where Ciri had a multitude of personal matters to take care of. With Geralt, she revisits all the people she had encountered in the city. She was also present when Geralt and Avallac'h bring Ge'els from the world of the Aen Elle to show him proof that Eredin murdered the previous Aen Elle king, Auberon Muircetach, so he'd stop supporting the regicide. Ge'els attempts to sow animosity between Ciri and Avallac'h, but it fails. Corinne Tilly, an oneiromancer, shows everyone through dreams of Eredin's regicide.

After Philippa Eilhart and Margarita Laux-Antille are gathered, they ask to meet with Ciri. If Geralt accompanies Ciri to the meeting, it undermines her confidence. The sorceresses extended an invitation for Ciri to join the Lodge as an equal partner.

The party then travels to Skellige to find an elven artifact called the Sunstone to lure Eredin into a trap. Ciri then expresses her desire to investigate Avallac'h secret laboratory in the isles, suspecting the elf to be hiding something from her. She goes ahead with Yennefer to await Geralt's arrival. After penetrating the laboratory, they find a genealogical chart of Elder Blood descendants; Avallac'h was studying all paths of Lara Dorren, even those thought extinct. They soon encounter a she-elf, claiming to be Avallac'h's lover, who proceeds to insult Ciri, calling her a degenernate half-breed and that Avallac'h despises that he needs her. Her words anger Ciri so much that she wants to tear up the lab. Geralt can support her and aid in the ransacking, cheering her up, or calm her down and fasten Lara Dorren's necklace around her neck, depressing her.

Once outside, Ciri asks to go to Hindersfjall to see Skjall, only to be told of his death. If Geralt refuses, it depresses her. If he agrees to accompany her, they either meet up later or teleport there. Upon arrival, Ciri learns that Skjall was never buried, instead thrown on a corpse heap. After finding his corpse and giving it a proper burial, they are accosted by a band of villagers, who take issue with their defiance against their elders' writ, as Skjall was dishonoured and his name stricken. Ciri threatens retaliation if Skjall's grave is disturbed and reveals Skjall's role in saving her from the Hunt, restoring his honor.

The party then sail to Undvik to spring the trap, with the Nilfgaardian fleet preventing the Naglfar from fleeing by sea and the sorceresses blocking their attempts to teleport. As the battle started, though advised to remain on shore, Ciri realized that Geralt and his Nilfgaardian detachment were frozen and decided to go out and assist. Avallac'h advised her to find Caranthir and break the jewel on his staff to lift the spell. After fighting through Hunt warriors and hounds did Ciri engage Caranthir, eventually destroying his staff, though the effort seemingly knocked her unconscious. Caranthir then attempted to grab Ciri, only for her to teleport away.

After Geralt mortally wounded Eredin, the elven king stated that Avallac'h had tricked them both, pitting them against each other while he made off with Ciri. When Geralt confronts Avallac'h as another Conjunction of the Spheres begins, but Avallac'h drops his sword proving that he did not betray them but was just following Ciri's wish to come here. Geralt then confronts Ciri who tells him that she has to go inside the portal to stop the White Frost. Depending on Geralt's interactions with her, Ciri may either survive or die stopping the White Frost.

[wren-of-the-woods]

i beg your pardon, dear lady, but i was wondering if you might recommend any poly! yen x geralt x jask fics? <3 love your blog!

Hello, dear anon!! Thank you for such a kind message!

As I'm reasonably new to the Geraskefer pairing, I don't have too many fics bookmarked. That being said, I have found some really excellent stories!

independent people by @peaktotheocean 36k, rated T Modern AU. Jaskier accidentally starts casually dating Geralt and Yennefer (who are divorced) at the same time. It takes a very long time for anyone to realize this.

champagne problems by @yoursummerfrost Rated T, 11k Modern AU. When Jaskier finds out that his ex-boyfriend is getting married, he convinces Yennefer to help him stage a fake proposal so he can ruin the wedding. There's just one problem: it turns out they both know the caterer.

Petty Bards and Witty Witches (Will be the death of us all) by Rlybro Rated T, 4k Canonverse, set around and after season 2. Soft moments between Jaskier and Yennefer where they contemplate about what they'd do if they ever see Geralt again vs What Actually Happened.

hold me together and give me a reason by @witchersgoldenbard Rated M, 3k Canonverse, post-season 2. After losing nearly everything, Jaskier falls apart alone in a room in Kaer Morhen. It takes a sorceress and a witcher both to put him back together again.

Private Performance by fabrega Rated G, 2k Canonverse, post-season 2. Yennefer asks Jaskier to play Burn Butcher Burn for Geralt.

Since I didn't have very many suggestions of my own, I also asked the wonderful Geraskefer shipper @yellow-feathered-faerie for her recs! I haven't read all of them yet, but they look absolutely amazing and I'm absolutely going to be going through them in the next few days. The descriptions are hers, with minor edits!

Rumor Has It by @cardamomdaydream Rated T, 2k A modern AU where the teacher's as Ciri's school are trying to work out exactly who her parents are (and fail to see that all three of the very hot people seen dropping her off are, in fact, counted).

even in jest, or as an afterthought by @andfollowthesun Rated T, 10k Another modern AU where Yenn, Jask and Geralt went to Uni together but eventually fell apart and how they get back together. It's been a while since I read this one but I remember it being very good.

for she had done mischief by @whatkindofnameisvolta Rated T, 43k An AU where Jaskier ends up with a demigod child and Yenn and Geralt end up in Lettenhove with Ciri and they are all forcibly adopted into Jaskier's family (and they attempt to set him up with both Yenn and Geralt).

Stuck In The Middle With You by @j-pankratz Rated M, 16k Another modern AU (I have a bit of a thing for them) which is also a bit of a canon rewritten into this au - I recall this one being quite a nice light read.

The First Annual Family of Promise Roadtrip by corasangloria and @icannotreadcursive Rated T, 16k This is (yet another) modern AU with established Geraskefer (romantic and platonic and a bit jumbled) meeting Ciri for the first time and going on holiday - I remember this one as being quite funny in places and handling emotions and stuff really well.

A Good Few Verses by reena_jenkins and sospes Rated E, 74k A bit more Yennskier than Geraskefer but there's honestly enough Geralt mentioned that I think it should count - and I loved it too much not to recommend. There was lots of pining and enemies to friends to lovers and I read it pretty much in one sitting (I went to bed quite late).

I'm also going to take this opportunity to showcase this wonderful reclist by @imsupposedtobewriting! It has so many good fics including some Geraskefer (that's how I found independant people) and I highly reccomend it.

Also, I have a Geraskefer fic of my own drafted that should be posted on the 11th! There may also be more on its way, depending on how much the plot bunnies fight me, so watch this space ;)

That's all I have for you! I hope you enjoy these, darling anon <3

[jaskierswolf]

Your heart beats like wings

Written for the Teef Week Event in @thewitcherbog.

Ship: Gerlion

Rating: E

CW: Fae!Dandelion, biting (and drawing blood), mating bites (of sorts), wing kink, coming untouched, blow job,

_

Geralt had always known there was something not quite human about Dandelion. Whenever his golden-haired poet was near, the wolf’s head would hum quietly on his chest, a fact that Dandelion seemed to delight in. Whenever they shared a bed or curled up together on the forest floor, Dandelion’s long lutist fingers would wrap around the wolf, calloused fingertips tracing the fur on its ears and muzzle. But Geralt never asked, and Dandelion seemed content to keep the mystery a secret. Years passed, decades, maybe nearing a century, Ciri blooming into a beautiful young lady, zipping off through time and space, Yennefer still scouring the Continent for a way to take back what she believed was stolen from her, and Regis settling down in Toussaint with a fellow vampire, popping in to see Geralt and Dandelion on occasion.

No one seemed to notice that the seemingly human bard hadn’t aged a day over the cruel winters and burning summers that had passed.

Geralt noticed but he was scared, scared of losing the one constant in his life. If he asked, if he drew attention to it, the peace surrounding them might shatter and he’d be left alone, always waiting for his friends and family to arrive, isolated.

Dandelion hummed, tucking his hair behind his ears before leaning down to press a kiss to Geralt’s neck, sucking a bruise into the tender skin, his hips rolling over Geralt’s cock. Ever the poet, Dandelion murmured a steady stream of praise as he trailed his lips under the line of Geralt’s jaw, whispering rhymes and verses as he nibbled Geralt’s ear.

“What thoughts are rattling through that pretty little head of yours, my darling?” Dandelion asked as he sat up onto his heels, his fingers tracing patterns into Geralt’s chest, not dissimilar to the runes on his swords.

“Nothing to worry about,” Geralt muttered, pulling his husband into a kiss to finally silence him. The words melted into a soft moan as Dandelion’s lips parted easily under Geralt’s, elderflower wine still on his tongue, sweet, delicious, divine.

They kissed some more, lazy and slow, a simmering heat gradually building into something more insistent as Dandelion’s hands finally wrapped around Geralt’s cock.

“You’re lying to me,” Dandelion hummed, hand slick with oil even though Geralt never heard the cork pop. “Tell me, dearest, please.”

Geralt’s eyes fluttered closed, Dandelion’s fingers working magic along his hardening cock, making it difficult to think about anything else. “You,” he finally mumbled, “was thinking about you.”

Dandelion giggled, the sound making Geralt’s medallion vibrate a little more against his chest. “And what about me?” Dandelion asked, his voice ever musical and beautiful, one carefully trimmed nail running along Geralt’s cheek.

“You- you never age, Dandelion. Why?” Geralt asked, feeling his cheeks heat up as he finally voiced the question that had been haunting him for years.

The poet sighed, pressing his face into the crook of Geralt’s neck, fingers wrapped tightly around the wolf medallion. “I was wondering when you would ask, my dear witcher.”

A heavy silence fell over the room as Dandelion sat up, legs resting either side of Geralt’s waist. He continued to trace patterns into Geralt’s skin, until the quiet became almost unbearable, crushing Geralt under the enormity of its weight. The question became a burning sword, ready for Geralt to fall upon, the destruction of everything he held dear. Until, in a strangely vulnerable voice, Dandelion spoke once more.

“Promise not to hate me, Geralt, darling, please.” His voice cracked, shattering along with Geralt’s heart. They may have had their spats over the years but to hear that his husband doubted him so… it was unforgivable. He would spend the rest of their days together trying to make it up to Dandelion, until his husband truly believed how much Geralt loved him.

Geralt took one of Dandelion’s hands in his, placing a kiss to each knuckle before gently turning it over to kiss the palm. “You must think me mad,” Geralt reminded him, echoing words from so long ago, “if you think I could ever hate you.”

And still Dandelion remained silent, cornflower blue eyes locked on his, lacing their fingers together. “Even if I’m a monster?”

If it weren’t for the sincerity in Dandelion’s voice, Geralt would have assumed the poet was joking. How could his husband, kind and gentle Dandelion who threw up at the sight of blood, think he was a monster? The most vicious Dandelion ever got was when he was up against Valdo Marx in a bardic competition, but his old rival had passed many years ago.

“Even then.”

“Are you- are you sure?”

“Dandelion, speak,” Geralt said, squeezing the poet’s hand in his.

“Very well.”

But instead of speaking there was a sudden burst of magic in the room, Geralt’s medallion jumping off his chest, the teeth of the wolf almost snarling as it vibrated wildly. Dandelion’s features blurred and changed, his already sharp cheekbones becoming more angular, the fingers between Geralt’s lengthening, claw-like nails replacing neatly trimmed ones. When Dandelion opened his eyes once more, cornflower blue irises now glowed with slitted pupils not unlike Geralt’s, and when he smiled, Geralt saw a row of sharp teeth glistening between rosy pink lips. His golden ringlets parted to reveal two curled horns, but what really drew Geralt’s attention were the shimmering rainbow wings that unfurled from behind his husband’s back.

He was beautiful.

“Dandelion,” Geralt breathed, unable to think of any other word.

“Hello, Geralt.”

“You’re- you’re beautiful.”

Dandelion’s eyes fluttered shut, a serene expression gracing his lips, and the room seemed to glow from whatever magic the poet was weaving, his hair gently blowing in a breeze that Geralt couldn’t feel. Behind him, Dandelion’s wings beat slowly, catching off the candlelight and sending glittery sparkles of light cascading across the room. It was captivating, enchanting, alluring, and Geralt couldn’t take his eyes off his husband.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, his voice distant to his own ears.

“Hmm, well, I rather think you should,” Dandelion giggled, leaning down to press their lips together.

Geralt’s fingers tentatively reached out to caress Dandelion’s wings, making the poet shudder, a soft gasp falling from his lips, the taste of wild flowers on his breath.

“Again…” Dandelion murmured, and so Geralt stroked along the seemingly fragile veins of the wings until his husband was a quivering mess on top of him, cock hard and leaking onto Geralt’s stomach. “Oh gods, Geralt.”

“I’ve got you, Dandelion,” Geralt hummed, his fingers digging into Dandelion’s thighs as they rutted together, Geralt’s cock aching between the curve of Dandelion’s arse.

“Julian,” Dandelion whispered. “My name is Julian.”

Geralt blinked up at his husband, cheeks flushed bright, the very picture of ethereal beauty. “Julian,” he repeated, “my flower.”

As the name fell from Geralt’s lips, a strange silver light whipped around his husband, connecting his heart to Geralt’s, and he cried out, lost in pleasure as he came, purely from the caresses to his wings. He collapsed forward, sharp teeth latching onto Geralt’s shoulder to muffle his cries. Geralt hissed in pain as the fangs sank into his skin, but the pain soon succumbed to pleasure and he thrust up against Dandelion’s arse, hands still exploring the colourful wings that were so alive beneath his fingers. Every touch tingled against his skin, hot and cold at the same time, magic in its rawest form, making Geralt feel dizzy.

Dandelion moaned, releasing Geralt’s shoulder for barely a second before kissing over the wound. His husband then wriggled from Geralt’s arms, kissing down Geralt’s body as he shuffled down the bed, each kiss was accompanied by a sharp bite until Geralt’s skin was a map of unfamiliar teeth marks, some bleeding, some not, Dandelion didn’t seem to care. Wherever his razor sharp teeth did break through Geralt’s skin, there was a thrum of magic, building and building inside of Geralt, until he could almost feel Dandelion’s heart beat right alongside his. Wings fluttered out behind Dandelion, now out of reach but still so captivating.

“My darling, my husband, my Geralt,” Dandelion murmured between kisses, gazing up at Geralt with glowing blue eyes as he pressed a kiss to Geralt’s hip.

“Yours, Julian,” Geralt agreed, threading his hands through Dandelion’s soft blond curls, knuckles bumping against the newly grown horns. Unlike the wings, Dandelion’s horns didn’t appear to be sensitive in the slightest, but Geralt was still intrigued. He gripped one of the horns in his hand, guiding his husband lower, moaning with every kiss and bite to his skin.

Dandelion giggled, pressing a kiss to Geralt’s inner thigh, “Patience, love.”

“You try my patience, poet.”

“And yet you insist I’m not a monster,” Dandelion sighed, sinking his teeth into Geralt’s thigh.

Fire blazed through Geralt’s veins, crackling electricity, even as Dandelion’s tongue lapped over the bite mark. He knew there was some magic at play, but it was a part of Dandelion, a part that had remained hidden for so long and finally, finally, Geralt had been allowed to see.

The trust that Dandelion- that Julian had in him was almost overwhelming.

Glowing eyes met his and Julian winked, eyelashes even longer and darker than before. That was all the warning Geralt got before his cock was enveloped in the wet heat of Julian’s mouth, the bard already moaning around his length. Geralt’s own moans harmonised with his husband as his head fell back against the pillow.

He had a feeling he would be in for a long night.

_

Taglist: @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde, @comfyswitcherblanketfort, @fontegagrilledcheese, @dani-dandelino, @dapandapod @unyielding-as-the-sea @officerjennie @feraljaskier @geralt-of-riviass @kueble @gilberik @llamasdumpsterfire

[bamf-jaskier]

Are there any trans characters in the books? I've heard something about Ciri possibly being transmasc but being denied transition bit idk and I'm curious (and sadly too broke to get the books and find out through reading). Also! What is something you're most excited for with the second season/something you're hoping they add? For me it has to be Philippa - game Philipa is such a fun character and I wanna see Netflix's version

“I’m frightened of two pendulums. Two at the same time. And the windmill, but only when it’s set to go fast. And there’s also a long balance, I still have to go on that… with a safety de— A safety device. Lambert says I’m a sissy and a wimp but that’s not true. Geralt told me my weight is distributed a little differently because I’m a girl. I’ve simply got to practise more unless… I wanted to ask you something. May I?”

“You may.”

“If you know magic and spells… If you can cast them… Can you turn me into a boy?”

“No,” Triss replied in an icy tone. “I can’t.”

“Hmm…” The little witcher-girl was clearly troubled. “But could you at least…”

“At least what?”

“Could you do something so I don’t have to…” Ciri blushed. “I’ll whisper it in your ear.”

“Go on.” Triss leaned over. “I’m listening.”

Ciri, growing even redder, brought her head closer to the enchantress’s chestnut hair.

So I’m gonna go out on a limb and assume that this is the passage has been referenced. It’s from blood of elves and basically Ciri is complaining and talking about how hard she’s pushed by the other Witchers at Kaer Morhen and she asks Triss to turn her into a boy but then Triss says no Ciri asks Triss can stop her period. Because she gets injured more when she’s doing combat exercises when she’s on her period  

I really don’t read this as Ciri being transmasc I read it as a young girl growing up in environment that was made exclusively for men and at this point in her life these men have made absolutely no adjustments in their lifestyles for raising a young girl so she is trying to emulate them and unfortunately the system she lives in is not designed for women so she wants to be a boy.

I feel like a lot of young girls go through this phase where they want to be a boy just so shit is easier. When you exist in a space made for men sometimes you wanna be a man so you don’t have to work so hard to fit into the space and that’s what I see Ciri is doing I don’t really see her as actually experiencing dysphoria and actually being trans.  and considering the themes of gender roles in the books I’m pretty sure that’s where Sapko is leaning too. Granted trans Ciri headcanons are fun but I really wouldn’t say that’s where the book wanted the audience to go.

There’s also a really funny scene later where Ciri wears a dress because she grew up a princess and she does miss some very traditionally feminine things and announces that she won’t be training for the day and the Vesemir doesn’t understand and seems to think that Ciri wearing a dress means that she’s on her period. Which isn’t true at all and if you read the books Vesemir clearly misunderstanding the situation and it’s actually such a grandpa thing to do.

And second season I’m most excited for the Fringilla content!! I felt SUPER uncomfortable with how Fringilla was written in Lady of the Lake so I’m hoping they make her character far more complex

AKS ME THINGS WHILE IM 🍃💨



[itsclydebitches]

You all want to hear a shocking secret? I’m still writing these 😅 

Drabble #3 for @valasania-the-pale! 

Reckless Conversation 

Pairing: Future Geralt/Dandelion with pining Dandelion and references to other ships

Word Count: 3,581

How'd it go? Geralt would ask, head bent over his blade like he wasn't hanging on Ciri's every word. 

I think I broke Dandelion's nose should produce a fun reaction. 

That was an enjoyment only future Ciri had access to though. Right now, present Ciri had to deal with the damn thing. 

"It's not that bad," she insisted, even as blood soaked through the rag she'd given him. She winced as Dandelion all but stuffed the material up his nostrils in an effort to stop the flow. Ciri was pretty sure she'd last used that to mop up some drowner slime... best not mention it. Besides, it wasn’t like he was breathing through his nose right now. "It's fine. You're fine." 

"I'd like to be the judge of that!" came the muffled reply. Dandelion staggered to a nearby water trough, blinking down at his own reflection. When he straightened his face was curiously blank. "You've ruined me." 

"Oh please." 

"I'm done. Through. My career will never recover. I hope it was worth it, little miss witcher, I really do." 

"Okay, first of all you're fine. Second, I doubt a bruised nose will hinder your poetry—" 

"I am speaking of my romantic career, dear, keep up!" 

Ciri rolled her eyes to the heavens, half hoping they'd open up and drown her. Dandelion had dropped plaintively to his knees, staring into the water and bemoaning his bloodstained shirt. She bit down on the urge to point out the new mud on his trousers. 

"Maybe," she said, rocking back on her heels, "you shouldn't go grabbing little miss witchers from the depths of alleyways. They have a tendency to hit first and ask questions later." 

The glare didn't surprise her. The words though... 

"Well, I was happy to see you." 

Oh. 

Shaking her head, Ciri pulled Dandelion to his feet and straight into a hug. "And I'm happy to see you too. Drama and all." 

The sounds emanating from her shoulder were curiously wet, though whether that was due to injury or emotion she couldn't say. "Friends pay for ruined clothes, you know." 

"Not when one friend has a monopoly on Novigrad's entertainment district and the other barely has two coins to her name. Plus, I'm pretty sure one of them is counterfeit. I owe someone else a broken nose. Sorry you got it instead." 

With a laugh Dandelion pulled away. "In truth I'm happy to receive anything you might give me, Ciri. Though I'd really prefer a strong drink." 

"I think we can manage that." 

After checking that his nose truly wasn't broken — just blooming a display of color that would put many painters to shame — Dandelion took Ciri's hand and led her into the city. He wasn't a native, but he might as well have been given the number of years he'd spent here, moving between high society circles and dangerous slums. Ciri knew there were few who could show her Novigrad like Dandelion and after months on the Path she was more than happy to let someone else call the shots for a while. 

She shouldn't have been surprised when, just minutes later, she was steered into a small alcove, the entrance so dark even she might have missed it passing by. An elf stood off to the side of a door, the bulk of his arms contrasting the ornamentally styled tunic. He inclined his head towards Dandelion as they slipped inside. 

"Milireth," he whispered, though the sudden onslaught of chatter made that unnecessary. "Great chap. Bit taciturn for my taste, but then I have plenty of stirring conversation for the two of us. He had some trouble finding employment a while back — you know how inhumane those Eternal Fire folks are and yes, I use that term deliberately — so I called in a favor with Julia and got him a spot here. Perfect fit. Now Milireth, in turn, lets me in without Julia being any wiser." He dropped her a wink. 

"Dandelion. Are we going to get kicked out halfway through our drinks?" 

"Absolutely not. Probably not. Provided we keep to the back. Or provided Julia has gotten over her most recent grudge. Either way I'd consider those excellent odds. Come on!" 

He led her through the establishment with impressive skill, weaving among the closely packed tables, dodging feet and legs. As Ciri's eyes adjusted to the low light she realized why Milireth was a good fit for this place. While Novigrad tended to divide its species rather strictly by districts and boroughs, here there was a diverse mix Ciri had only ever seen among her own friends and family. Dwarves, humans, elves, and, she suspected, a doppler or two made up the majority of the crowd, largely keeping to their own tables but still intermingling to an almost unheard of degree. They were literally sharing elbow room, leaning into one another's space with a confidence that said here, at least, everyone was welcome. A figure all the way in the back was shrouded in their cloak, but claw-like hands brought a mug to their lips. A woman with slit eyes smiled as they passed. Another was giving off pheromones — if the men draped in her lap were any indication. Monsters of all manner took refuge in shadows, fortifying themselves with good food, better drink, and even, if any would admit it, the company. 

Dandelion gently pushed Ciri into an empty seat. Her legs felt loose as a water hag's stew. 

"What — ?" she started to say before realizing that she knew precisely what this place was. Ciri shook her head. No one liked stupid questions. "How does this place exist?" 

Dandelion waved a hand. "Well, the philosopher might spout something about life finding a way, no matter what might stand against it. The Captain of our guard would say that the scum of the city are unerringly skilled at meeting in clandestine places. I suppose that both are right in their own way. Me? I might wax poetic about the stunningly skillful enchantments that keep this place from prying eyes." 

Ciri's gaze dropped instinctively to the Cat medallion against her chest. It lay quiet as a grave. Well, a grave post-witcher contract. 

"Very sophisticated enchantments," Dandelion said. 

"I'll say. I'm surprised you and the other humans aren't buckling with migraines." Ciri wasn't sure what protected her exactly. The Elder Blood, early exposure to magic, the fact that she was a Source... who could say. Except maybe Yen, and the last time she'd brought it up she'd gotten a mind-numbing lecture for her trouble. Better to simply let some things remain a mystery. 

Dandelion shrugged. "We will. Eventually. In an hour or two, but by that point one should be three sheets to the wind, so who can really tell the difference?" With a grin he waved down a passing barmaid who unceremoniously dropped two mugs on their table. Apparently one didn't order here. Or if you did, best be quick about it. The barmaid paused only long enough to peer closely at Dandelion's face. By the stretching of his grin he no doubt thought her a suitable distraction. Ciri suspected she was just interested in the growing bruise. 

She ignored them both to try the drink. Bitter and frothy, but it went down easier than most of what she'd had in the last year. Ciri took a long swing and wiped her mouth on her sleeve. 

"Which means," Dandelion continued, waving the barmaid away, "that we have more than enough time for you to tell me everything you've been up to. Don't spare the details! Though you may not have my knack for storytelling, dear, I know you're not entirely without talent. If you leave even a morsel out I'll be devastated." 

"Well, far be it from me to devastate you." 

"Precisely." 

So Ciri told Dandelion all, keeping her voice low in case a room full of creatures didn't take kindly to a list of her contracts. A few had eyed her swords upon entry, but said nothing, seemingly content to keep out of her way provided Ciri kept out of theirs. It was only too bad she couldn't say the same of her travels. Drowner infestations were one thing, even if the sailors too often tried to get handsy instead of paying her in coin, but a pack of werewolves had given her trouble for a solid month. All born into the curse, they possessed the ability to transform at will and had used it to their advantage as bandits, terrorizing a collection of villages. Solving the problem without indiscriminate slaughter had been a tricky business, demanding that Ciri pull from her knowledge of negotiation and mediation: neither of which were her strong suits. 

The werewolves at least would live out their days as members of a community. The rampaging godling out in Kaedwen was another matter entirely. Ciri hadn't had the privilege of meeting one until then — and she'd always assumed it was a privilege based on Geralt's teachings. "Not a beast to be put down," he'd say, eyeing the aggressive drunk. "Just mischievous. Respect them and at the very least you'll finish your contract without bloodshed. At best you'll come out of it with a friend." Well, she'd been more than respectful. Especially towards a being whose mischievous nature had resulted in families terrified of their own dreams, to the point where one newly minted wife had walked out her window. Another strangled her infant, thinking it an intruder. Ciri had tried to establish if the families had moved into what the godling perceived as her territory, if she had some sort of grievance towards young wives and mothers, even if it were possible for their species to fall under spells... all of it came to naught. Her inquiries were only met with laughter and, in time, more death. When a member of the Viper school had passed through and casually mentioned burdock root for navigating dreams, she'd bought him a drink, crushed a whole stem up in hers, and met the godling in another reality. Ciri couldn't swear she killed it, though as the Lady of Time and Space she suspected she'd had that edge. Either way, afterwards the women had slept soundly for a fortnight and it had felt safe to move on. 

There were others, of course, though no encounter quite as thrilling. It seemed like no matter how much people sneered at the trade — Geralt for his yellow eyes, her for being born a woman — everyone had a nest of something in need of extermination. Or a haunting to be put right. Or even, on occasion, just a particularly nasty job that no one else wanted to do. Ciri didn't mind mucking about in the sewers, provided her payment got her a bath at the end of the day. As well as, weeks later, the humor in watching Dandelion's face twist in on itself. 

"You didn't," he murmured, taking a large gulp of his drink. He swirled it as if to wash away an imaginary taste. "You drank from it?" 

"It was either that or die of thirst. I don't have a witcher's mutations. Sometimes you've just got to make do." 

"You poor, wretched thing." 

“Oh I know. Buy a poor, wretched thing another drink?” 

Speaking with Dandelion was easy. Even when he interrupted to supply what he considered to be the superior description, or went off on his own, thrilling tangents — forever stealing the spotlight. They were just the quirks of talking to him and after so long on the Path Ciri found herself welcoming the familiar. More than that, or the warm interior, or even the satisfying drink, she soaked up the feeling of family that permeated the air. 

It was a funny thing that, family. Funny, at least, if you shared her sense of humor. If anyone asked about her parentage (and plenty certainly had) they were in for quite the explanation. Born to the lovely Pavetta and Duny, though orphaned at a terribly young age. So really, in spirit Ciri’s parents were her grandparents, nothing less than the Lioness of Cintra herself and her devoted husband, Eist Tuirseach. But oh, haven't you heard? Her father hadn't really died. Why, he was no mere Lord, but the Emperor of Nilfgaard himself! Emhyr var Emreis, The White Flame Dancing on the Barrows of his Enemies and so on and so forth. Surely then he would be the one she referred to as 'Father'? Well, not when one considered a slew of complexities there, including her status as a Child Surprise. Duny, Eist, and Emhyr may have all vowed for the title of 'Father,' but destiny gave that dubious privilege to Geralt of Rivia and time proved one a wise man and the other a fool. So it was that Ciri found herself with three fathers, technically, though four if one considered the childhood emotions she'd attached to the Urcheon of Erlenwald. Two mothers as well, with the third arriving along with Geralt: Yennefer of Vengerberg. Sorceress. Visionary. Protector in the extreme. 

Yet the irony was that it didn't stop there. Who were the other witchers if not additional fathers, given joke names like 'Uncle' and 'Brother' to avoid confusion? What else made up the Lodge but mothers when it was they who taught her everything from magic to the ungodly chore of managing her blood each month? For an orphan Ciri had an uncommon number of parental figures... including the man who sat across from her. 

"Who's raising who?" she'd once heard Dijkstra mutter while Geralt and Dandelion had argued over her. It had been about something inconsequential, the disagreement lost to time, but Ciri, hardly a teen, recalled thinking that they were indeed like children in their bickering. 

Now, as an adult, she was inclined to re-term such moments as... frisky. In the absurdly strange way of all witchers and bards. But really, what friends argued so strongly over the raising of a daughter? 

Their interactions across nearly fifteen years hadn't exactly escaped her notice, even if childhood had often mischaracterized what precisely those interactions were. Nor, of course, could Ciri have missed how Dandelion kept speaking of romance without naming any new paramours. 

"So," she said, leaning across the table. This time a young man passed with drinks and Ciri snatched one, enjoying the spicy scent. She dangled the brew before Dandelion's nose before taking a sloppy sip. She was no lightweight, but they didn't skimp on the alcohol here either. 

Dandelion leaned forward to meet her. "So?" 

"Don't tell me I've been blathering on and you haven't thought of a single thing to share? No exciting adventures of your own? No... new friends?" 

In the shadows of the establishment Dandelion's face fell, then grew soft. In an instant the performer was gone and in his place sat a man closer to fifty than forty, a little tired, a little stressed, but more happy than anything else. He took the mug out of her hands and stole a drink for himself. "Can I share a secret with you, dear?" 

"Always." 

"Promise not to tell?" 

"Witcher's honor." 

"Your skillfully thrown punch may not have been the death of my career. I fear that's coming along just fine on its own." 

"Come on." 

He chuckled, so light and airy it floated away into the conversation around them. Ciri only knew he was laughing because of that smile and the shake in his shoulders. 

"All right, all right. You've caught me. There are still many men and women alike who flock to my side post-performance. Even a few who have asked for a private staging, if you catch my drift." 

"Dandelion. I've 'caught your drift' since I was fourteen and you gave me a lecture on avoiding venereal disease." 

"Did I?" 

"You were drunk." 

He took another massive gulp from their shared mug. "Well, that would explain it. But yes, I'm still popular — thank the gods for that — but I'd be a fool not to acknowledge that most of that stems from my unparalleled musical talent and a hefty nest egg. I'm not as limber as I once was, dear. I have wrinkles." Dandelion shook like a dog shedding water. 

Ciri smiled. Slow. Syrupy. "You're still the most handsome poet I know." 

"Oh thank you. I should hope so! The others are all cads..." 

"And you're dodging the question. Or the implied question, since I know you like to get technical." Dandelion scoffed. "No new friends? No last hurrahs before your golden years? Come off it, Dandelion. The last two times we've met up you haven't mentioned a single new 'acquaintance' and we both know you'd be talking up any encounters whether they'd been good or not. A girl's got to wonder." 

"A girl's gotten nosy." He slammed the now empty mug back on the table. "Let's go." 

"Ah — look. Sorry. If you don't want to talk about it — " 

"I don't want to talk about it here." Dandelion rolled his eyes with such fervor that Ciri worried for a moment that they'd leave his head. "Come now. Have I ever kept things from you? I'll tell all with a master's flair, but I'm doing it out of their earshot. Besides, that headache’s starting up." 

A few patrons cast them looks, which Ciri could only interpret as confirmation that they'd been eavesdropping. Then again, she'd been doing the same. There was a certain amount of camaraderie as they left the establishment, Dandelion passing a hand over all he knew (and dropping reminders not to mention him to Julia) and even she got a few nods of recognition. Changling, bard, vampire, or un-mutated Witcher, it seemed so long as you kept yourself to yourself all were welcome. 

She'd have to come back sometime. 

Ciri took note of the street as they ambled away, Dandelion's arm comfortably tucked into hers. They'd nearly reached the market before he spoke. 

"I know I just promised a tale, but are you really going to make me explain this?" His petulance drew out a laugh. 

"No," she admitted. "What's to explain? I’m not blind. You've spent the last twenty years following Geralt around and very nearly losing your head for the trouble. Or your voice. Your arm. Your balls, if some of those stories are to be believed."

"Oh, believe it, my dear."

"So I think that speaks for itself. Mere friends don't go to such lengths."

The toe of Dandelion's boot found a small stone, sending it soaring ahead of them. "Yet you forget one crucial detail."

"Enlighten me."

"Future loves do not have poetry worthy relationships with a sorceress."

She ground them both to a halt, the sudden loss of momentum drawing a curse from Dandelion. "Are you kidding me?" He squawked as Ciri reached up to knock some sense into him. Try to, anyway. "Oh, I knew immersing yourself in that exaggerated, destiny-laden, overly dramatic drivel would cause problems someday."

"One moment now! Drivel?"

Ciri ignored the outcry. "Yes, Geralt loves Yen... Just like Yen loves Istredd. Triss loves Geralt. Triss and Yen both had that weird thing for Philippa and don't even get me started on Fringilla. What do you think it means that Geralt spent months with Regis and Yen still dragged him up to that unicorn the moment he returned? Or that they casually talk about a 'sorceress' work' over the breakfast table? Dandelion, he's past his first century with so little family left. If you think that leaves less room for you in this mess than you're not nearly as smart as the masses claim. You’ve been listening to your own ballads too much."

She supposed this was some kind of accomplishment: leaving the most verbose man in The Continent utterly speechless. The alcohol still burned in the back of her throat and Ciri could admit that, in a more sober, everyday moment, she probably wouldn't have said as much as she had. But it was all true and dammit, if she'd learned anything since the Frost it was that a short life could be just as cursed as a long one. She was sick of people — herself included — letting things pass by.

"I don't know which is harder to believe," Dandelion murmured, raising a hand to his brow. "That you have twice assaulted me on this beautiful day. That I am being egged into a relationship with a witcher by his uncouth daughter..."

"Or?"

"Or that he remains that stunningly handsome at over a hundred years old."

Ciri snorted, tugging him along. Dandelion stumbled a moment, a testament to her words, but did quickly regain his feet. "You know we've never shied from discussions of sex in this family. Love though? Absolutely... so go slowly there."

A blush stained the great poet's cheeks, though no one else would have caught it on such a hot, sunny day. He delicately cleared his throat. "Any suggestions?"

"Hmm." Ciri pretended to think, tapping her chin. "We've been apart so long and really, our day has only just started, so I suggest that you come home with me. The three of us can start by having lunch."

The blush turned into a conspiratorial smile. "Where you will unexpectedly disappear, leaving the two of us alone?"

"But of course."

"My dear Ciri, I'll make a storyteller out of you yet."

A story she was more than happy to work on. How'd it go? Geralt would ask, trying to hide both face and curiosity. She'd done enough telling for today and Ciri looked forward to dragging Dandelion into their home, shoving him forward, and letting two of her dads work that out for themselves.

[igottoomuchwriting]

It’s Fine Now (Geraskier)

Geralt was sitting on his couch, staring at his TV with a blank stare. It was quiet in his house. Ciri was back with Yennefer, Roach wasn’t running around and causing chaos, and Jaskier—

Jaskier left three weeks ago. Not willingly, no. Geralt kicked him out. 

Well, not exactly kicked him out. Jaskier doesn’t live with them, Geralt’s anxiety about bringing someone new into Ciri’s life permanently keeps him back from letting the man stay with him. No, he made him leave after a fight. A nasty fight, one that they haven’t had in their year and a half of dating. They’ve bickered, yes, but it was never this bad.

“I’m just trying to understand what set you off, Geralt!”

“Maybe it’s the fact that you’re trying to stick your dick in everything that fucking moves!”

Geralt flinched, the fight playing back in his head. That was the night before Ciri came back from Yennefer’s, the night before Geralt’s two weeks with his daughter started. It was supposed to be a fun night, maybe a night that ended with the two of them rolling into bed before they had to worry about being quiet.

But no. Geralt’s insomnia had been worsening, and he had started getting jealous at all the people flirting with Jaskier when he was around and Jaskier flirting back. He knew the man would never cheat on him, but he still hated it. Hates it. He doesn’t know how to tell Jaskier without causing a fight or lashing out, so he held it back, thinking the feeling would blow over.

It didn’t

“You obviously miss the way you used to live.”

“Oh like you’re one to talk, Geralt.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Geralt had been talking to Yennefer more before the fight broke out. He didn’t know what to do, and seeing as she is his ex-wife and in a successful relationship, he didn’t know anyone better than her to see what he should do.

He may have also brushed Jaskier off when he was talking to her. Whenever he asked who he was talking to, he would be vague, ignore the question, or distract Jaskier. Jaskier never said anything, so Geralt thought it was fine. It wasn’t a huge deal, talking to Yennefer. They’ve talked all the time and Jaskier knows this, even if he and Yennefer don’t always get along. They are both very sassy and bully each other, though they have both assured Geralt it is all fun in games.

“I know you’re talking to Yennefer more often. You keep trying to hide it from me, never telling me who or why!”

“What, I have to pass who I talk to by you? I can’t even have private conversations?”

Geralt knew he should have told Jaskier, told him he has been feeling anxious and insecure about Jaskier flirting with people, but doing that would admit weakness. As much as Jaskier, Yennefer, and his therapist have tried telling him, it is still drilled in his head that admitting you are upset by something means that you cannot handle it on your own.

“Private conversations with your ex-wife is different than having private conversations with a friend.”

Geralt’s therapist told him a week ago that he needs to apologize. He had explained the fight and she was disappointed in him, he knows this. She gave him a list of ways to apologize, how to start off and how to not freak out when someone puts blame on you.

She assured him that it wasn’t just his fault, that Jaskier had faults in the fight as well, but that he should reach out. He was the one who made Jaskier leave, it would be better if he reached back out again.

“Green isn’t a good color on you.”

“Are you fucking serious, Geralt?! You’re the one freaking out at harmless flirting but I’m the one who is jealous?!”

Geralt looked down at his phone, seeing it was only 9 pm. He hasn’t been sleeping still, only getting a few hours in every other day, having no one to help him sleep or a guilt free conscience. 

He missed Jaskier, he did. He doesn’t know where they stood now, but he didn’t want to let the man go. He never thought they would be together as long as they have, that they would work together as well as they did, but they did. Ciri loved him too, loved him the moment Geralt introduced the two and has even taken to asking when Jaskier is going to come over, when he is going to be available to play.

He never thought he would be able to find someone to love with Ciri around. He doesn’t care if no one wants to date a man with kids, he knows that’s not the case. Plenty of women have flirted with him at the gym and outright told him they thought it was hot how well he took care of his daughter. He just never thought he would have the courage to date someone, bring someone into Ciri’s life before she moved out. He was ready to just have it be her and Geralt, no one else. He was happy with that.

Then that singer had the audacity to serenade him at the bar, to hold eye contact with him as he sang a love song in front of a bunch of strangers. He even had the nerve to leave a note with his phone number on his nightstand after they slept together.

And Geralt had been so enthralled that he called him back. 

Then a year and a half later, Geralt fucks it up.

“I’ve been trying so hard to be enough for you, to be enough for Ciri! I feel I can’t compete with Yennefer, and you going behind my back to talk to her hurts!”

“Then don’t compete with her.”

“Wh—What?”

“I’m not repeating myself.”

Jaskier left after that. He didn’t slam the door on his way out, no. He always had a quiet anger. He barely raised his voice in the fight. It was only in the end when Geralt started pushing his buttons. 

He was calm. He was able to control his emotions. If he was mad with Geralt, he would talk about it. He would voice his thoughts, and anytime they bickered, they would go outside, go on a walk if Ciri wasn’t around, hide in their room if she was. He would make sure that her life was never interrupted by people fighting as it had been when he and Yennefer were together. He was looking out for his daughter, even if that was the last thing on his mind.

He would look out for Geralt too. He would give Geralt space if he was feeling overwhelmed, if he was sensory overloaded and ready to snap. He would hold Geralt close if he couldn’t sleep, would stay up and sing to Geralt if he had a nightmare. He would make him food if he was too tired from work, would watch Ciri so he could take a nap after days of not sleeping. 

Geralt and Ciri were at the top of list, and Jaskier showed this over and over and over. But Geralt had the audacity to think he would leave, to think that he was getting bored with his current life. So he lashed out, pushed him away, hid away before Jaskier could hurt him more.

Jaskier didn’t deserve that. He deserved someone that would bend over backwards, would worship him the same way the musician worshipped his lovers. Geralt was never that.

But he wanted to be. 

He looked back at his phone. Twenty minutes had passed. 

He needed to fix this.

---

Geralt walked into the bar that he has frequented time and time again. It was packed, people dancing around and drinking. Geralt was surprised to see people were more slow dancing. The music was slow as well. Geralt looked up at the stage and his heart stopped when he saw Jaskier sitting on a stool, guitar in hand, as he sang into the microphone. The band that usually accompanied him must have been taking a break, giving Jaskier to sing about his feelings.

The song was sad, it was slow, the patrons didn’t seem to mind. They were all listening to his voice, holding their lovers and friends close, drinking and watching Jaskier.

Geralt snuck past all the people and went to the corner of the bar, eyes never leaving Jaskier. He could hear the pain in his voice and his heart clenched tight. He knows he was the one that put that pain in Jaskier’s voice, so the idea of singing a slower song at a bar would be better therapy than just talking to Geralt again. But he supposes that’s his fault.

The bartender shot him a look, a confused and angry look. Geralt wasn’t surprised. He knew that Jaskier was close with his coworkers and was never one to shy away from sharing his woes. He wouldn’t be surprised if the bartender found a reason to kick Geralt out before he talked to Jaskier. 

“Whiskey, on the rocks,” Geralt huffed. The bartender nodded, still eyeing him up and down as she got the drink for him. 

As she handed the drink to him, she leaned closer. “If you aren’t here to talk to him, I suggest leaving.”

Geralt stared at her with a neutral face, wanting to tell her off for butting into his business, but he knew she was right. He just thanked her and leaned back, turning his eyes back to Jaskier.

The pair of blue eyes met with his and Geralt froze in his spot. Jaskier had been setting up a microphone as the radio music played overhead, giving the band time to set back up. Jaskier’s face quickly morphed from one of confusion to anger, annoyance. Geralt watched as he leaned back to the man next to him, mumbling something. The mystery man’s eyes flicked to Geralt quickly before he turned back to Jaskier with a nod.

Gerlat quickly looked away, embarrassed. He didn’t know what they were talking about, what they were planning, but Geralt was scared to find out. He wanted to leave, save himself the embarrassment, hide away and talk to Jaskier later.

But Jaskier’s thirty minute break was in ten minutes, and if he left before that, he doubts Jaskier would ever talk to him again. If he is even willing to talk to Geralt now.

“How’s everyone doing?!” Jaskier spoke into the microphone after everything was set up. Everyone cheered, clapping as their favorite musician flashed them a smile. “Wonderful! I’m glad all of you could show. I would like to think you are here because it’s one of the few nights to see me live instead of behind the bar, but I know it’s really because it’s ‘ladies drink free’ tonight.”

The crowd let out a chuckle, Geralt included. Jaskier knew how to work a crowd, how to get everyone to love him within a minute of talking to him. 

“Now, how many people are here to forget about heartbreak?” A handful of cheers, some guys yelling about their partners being a bitch. Jaskier nodded his head at the response. “Glad to see we are all responsible adults who know how to handle our problems.” More laughs, some cheers. “I’ve got an oldie but a goodie—if we are considering 2011 old—to play tonight. For all of those who did not have an emo phase in high school, sorry you may be left out tonight. For those of you who did, get ready because this song will bring back those memories.”

The band started plucking at some strings, Jaskier watching them for the beat.

Geralt vaguely recognizes the song. It must have come out a long time ago. Based on what Jaskier said, when he was in high school. Geralt is seven years older than him, so he doubts they were anywhere close to listening to the same music when Jaskier was in high school.

“Of course he would sing Avril Lavigne with you here,” he heard the bartender grumble. Geralt looked over to see her refilling his drink, not looking up at him. “I would listen to the lyrics a bit more if I were you.”

Geralt nodded his head, turning back to Jaskier. He was walking around the stage now, singing his heart out as many drunk people in the audience joined him. It seemed to be a popular song, one many people knew.

You’re on your knees, begging please, stay with me

But honestly, I just need to be a little crazy!

Geralt grimaced at the lyrics. The lines seemed to hit a little too close to home, seeing as he was here to actually beg for Jaskier back. He doesn’t know if Jaskier knows this or is hoping.

All I want is to mess around

And I don’t really care about—

If you love me! If you hate me!

You can’t save me, baby, baby!

The words just seem to hit him more and more. Jaskier was putting all of his anger into this song. He could tell. Every emotion he felt, all the words he wanted to stay but couldn’t, all right here in the disguise of a song. Because he knows Geralt is here, he knows he is listening. He knows he has no other choice but to listen.

So what if I go out on a million dates?

Jaskier’s eyes turned right to Geralt, passion in his words as he held eye contact with Geralt.

You never call, or listen to me anyway

Geralt looked away. He couldn’t listen anymore. It hurt him too much. Every word Jaskier sang destroyed his confidence little by little, making him want to turn and leave, leave before he could make the situation worse.

The song went on, the people cheered, but Geralt stayed silent. He ignored the bartender’s eyes, ignored Jaskier’s gaze as he sipped his whiskey, going over the list that his therapist gave him. 

He doesn’t know how much time passed, but suddenly he felt a hand grab his arm and pull him out of his seat. Geralt stumbled and turned, ready to yell, when he realized it was Jaskier.

“We’re going to the back, Sam,” he called to the bartender, not once looking at Geralt. He didn’t wait for a reply before he pulled Geralt away, through the ‘employee’s only’ door.

The break room was empty, thankfully. He let go of Geralt’s arm and turned around, glaring at the man.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he snapped.

“I wanted to talk to you,” Geralt mumbled. Jaskier let out a laugh, shaking his head.

“You’ve had three weeks, Geralt. Three. Weeks. And you choose now, when I’m at work, to come talk to me?” Geralt looked down, ashamed. He didn’t think that he would be mad that he was gonna talk to him at work.

“I didn’t think—”

“That’s nothing new,” Jaskier interrupted. Geralt shot him a glare. “Oh don’t glare at me, you brute. I have the right to be angry. You came to my job after three weeks of no contact. No text message, no phone call, nothing. You just told me to leave and left me in the dust.”

“I shouldn’t have—”

“You’re right, you shouldn’t have. You should have thought this thro—”

“Will you please let me talk?” Geralt snapped. They held eye contact, Jaskier’s arms crossed and Geralt’s hands clenched at his side. It was a long moment before Jaskier spoke up.

“Well then?” he motioned at Geralt, staring him down. “Talk.”

Geralt took a deep breath, calming himself down. He knew this conversation would be a waste if he decided to snap at Jaskier again.

“I’m sorry,” he started. He glanced at Jaskier, but when the man hadn’t moved, he continued. “I shouldn’t—I should have talked to you. I shouldn’t have poked your buttons, or betrayed your trust, or kicked you out of the house.”

“What does Yennefer think about all this?” Jaskier asked, because of course he would. She was, in a way, the center of the fight.

“She thinks I’m a fucking idiot,” he grumbled. Jaskier blinked, seemingly shocked at that answer. “She—She yelled at me when she found out I told you to leave, when she found out that I hadn’t told you that we were talking.”

Jaskier bit his lip, fidgeting in place. He looked away to process the information and Geralt let him.

“What did you talk to her about?” Jaskier mumbled. He had shrunk in on himself, wouldn’t look Geralt in the eye. He was afraid of the answer.

“I wanted to know how I should talk to you.”

“Talk to me about what? Kicking me out? Breaking up with me?”

“No!” Geralt snapped. “I—I didn’t know how to talk to you about the people flirting with you, how you were gaining tips at the bar.” Jaskier didn’t say anything. For the first time since Geralt knew him, he was silent. Geralt let out a sigh and ran a hand down his face.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, because at this point he doesn’t know what else to say. “I don’t want you to leave, I don’t want you out of my life. I was just jealous and stupid and sleep deprived. I was afraid that if I talked to you, you would be mad, but I see now that not talking made it worse.”

Jaskier let out a deep sigh, looking down at the ground. “I’m sorry too,” he mumbled. Geralt opened his mouth to say no, don’t apologize but Jaskier continued. “You’re right, I shouldn’t be flirting with people at the bar. It is all harmless, but I should have realized that it is making you uncomfortable. I don’t want you thinking that I’m gonna leave you for some rando who is probably cheating on his girlfriend as he is talking to me.” He looked back at Geralt, agitated.

“But you need to tell me these things. I am not a mindreader. And I don’t mind if you’re talking to other people, but I would like to be informed. You don’t have to tell me what you’re talking about, but at least say who you are talking to when I ask. Especially when it’s your ex-wife.”

Geralt nodded his head in understandment. He could do that much, he doesn’t have to hide from Jaskier when things are difficult. 

Jaskier gave him a small smile before walking forward, grabbing Geralt and pulling him into a hug. Jaskier wrapped his arms around Geralt’s waist and hid his face in his neck. Geralt wrapped his arms around him as well, holding him close as he laid his head on Jaskier as best as he could.

“I missed you,” Geralt mumbled. 

“I missed Ciri,” Jaskier replied. Gerlat huffed and smacked Jaskier’s butt. Jaskier let out and laughed as Geralt grumbled.

“I come here and lay my heart out for you and you say you miss my daughter.”

“I missed Roach too!” he defended. Geralt tried pulling away, pushing Jaskier away by the hip, but Jaskier whined and held on tighter. “Okay, okay! I missed you!”

Geralt hummed, satisfied as he pulled Jaskier closer to him again, keeping his hands on his waist. 

They stood there for who knows how long, just swaying in each other’s arms and holding each other close. Jaskier placed small kisses on Geralt’s neck and shoulder, and though Geralt would never admit it, each kiss made his knees buckle and his heart melt.

But he had a reputation to uphold.

“I should probably head back to work,” Jaskier mumbled. Geralt hummed again, but neither made any move to seperate. 

It wasn’t until Jaskier’s phone buzzed that they seperated, Jaskier groaning. Jaskier looked down at his phone and rolled his eyes.

“Sam thinks that I killed you,” he mumbled as his fingers tapped against his screen, shooting a text back to his friend. Geralt chuckled and kept Jaskier close, unwilling to let go just yet. Jaskier slid his phone back in his pocket and back at Geralt, a smile on his face. Geralt pulled the musician closer, sliding his hands into his back pocket as Jaskier slid his arms around Geralt’s shoulders.

“Are you gonna stay?” he asked. Geralt hummed, looking at his mental schedule.

“I’m not busy,” he answered. Jaskier smiled wide and Geralt decided he would do anything just so he could see him smile like that again.

How did he go three weeks without this?

“We close early today,” Jaskier mumbled. He leaned forward and placed a kiss on the corner of his mouth, teasing Geralt. “You can chill at the bar and convince Sam that you are a good person, and I can finish up performing.”

“I guess,” Geralt grunted. Jaskier let out a laugh and finally, finally pulled Geralt in for a kiss.

As he leaned away, Geralt followed and caught his lips in another kiss, causing Jaskier to let out another laugh and God, how did he go three weeks without this beautiful man in his life?

“I do need to get to work,” Jaskier laughed when he pulled back again. If Geralt was any other man, he would whine, stomp his foot, refuse to let Jaskier leave his arms ever again. But he can’t. His boyfriend does have a job to do.

As they walked back out, Jaskier called Sam over.

“Just put anything he drinks on my tab,” he told her, shooting a knowing look to her when she raised an eyebrow.

“I’m not going to drink a lot,” Geralt grumbled. Jaskier rolled his eyes, pushing Geralt back on the stool. 

“Yes, but I know Ciri has field trips coming up that you need to save for. Therefore, just drink on my tab. I don’t mind.” Geralt let out a huff but didn’t argue anymore. Jaskier placed a kiss on his check before stepping away to go back with the band.

“About time that you guys made up,” Sam grumbled as she made him another drink. “He’s been down in the dumps for weeks now, so much that I was afraid the boss was gonna force him to take some time off.”

Geralt hummed in understanding. Jaskier isn’t the best at hiding his feelings, so it would make sense that his boss would force him to relax.

Geralt stayed silent as Jaskier went up to the microphone, talking to the crowd once again, but this time with a happy glint in his eye. Geralt smiled to himself, happy that his lover could perform his best.

---

“Are you sure you’re going to be alright getting home?” Sam asked. 

Jaskier nodded his head. He was standing against the bar, trying to help Sam clean off dishes and whatever he could with his boyfriend hanging off him, refusing to let go.

“Yeah. He’s a very easy drunk, surprisingly. He’s just gonna whine a lot,” Jaskier laughed. Geralt let out a hum in protest, but Jaskier just patted his head, lightly running his finger through his hair. Geralt let out a happy hum, placing more kisses on Jaskier’s neck.

“It’s weird seeing the big macho man who rarely smiles like this,” Sam laughed. Jaskier laughed as well. It was weird for him when he first saw Geralt completely wasted. They were with his brothers when it happened, and he refused to let anyone else be near Jaskier. If Jaskier had to leave his side for anything, he would whine and pout until he got back, to which he would just hold him close and kiss every part of his body he could reach easily.

“He’s just like a big, needy puppy,” Jaskier assured. “He is a little more vocal, but for the most part it’s just him clinging to me like I’m gonna disappear if he let’s go.”

“I see,” Sam mumbled. Geralt tightened his grip around Jaskier’s waist, huffing when Jaskier smacked his hand.

“Oh hush,” Jaskier scolded. “I need to breathe, Geralt.”

“Our times together prove otherwise,” he grumbled. A blush bloomed on his face as Sam let out a loud laugh.

“I think you should get the big hunk of muscle home.” Jaskier nodded his head. 

“Yeah, probably. He’s probably gonna pass out soon.”

“Geralt, I need to pee,” Jaskier grumbled. He had gotten Geralt to Geralt’s apartment, into the bedroom and into more comfortable clothing. Geralt had tried making out with him, wanting to go farther, but Jaskier just kept pushing him back. Now they were laying in bed and Jaskier realized that he had to pee, but Geralt was being a cranky toddler.

“No,” he huffed, holding Jaskier tighter. Jaskier just rolled his eyes before rolling away, forcing Geralt’s arms off of him. Geralt groaned as if Jaskier punched him in the stomach, or physically hurt him. Jaskier ignored him as he made his way to the bathroom.

When he came back, he laid down on his back and Geralt immediately threw his arm and leg over him, laying his head on Jaskier’s collarbone and snuggling into him. Jaskier let out a small chuckle, running his hands through Geralt’s hair. Geralt hummed and scooted closer, satisfied.

“Jaskier?” he asked. Jaskier hummed, so he continued. “‘M sorry. Shouldn’ have kicked you out.”

“It’s okay, Geralt,” Jaskier assured. “I’m not mad.”

“Don’t leave.”

“I’m not gonna leave.” Jaskier placed a kiss on the top of his head, continuing to pet his hair until he fell asleep.

“Ciri would be mad if you left,” Geralt continued, obviously feeling the need to talk. “She was already confused when you weren’t here. She kept asking where you were. She was obviously upset and I didn’t want to tell her.”

“Well, we don’t want to upset our princess, now do we?”

“You should move in,” Geralt mumbled. Jaskier froze, staring down at Geralt in shock. “You basically live here. Ciri wants you to live here, keeps telling her teachers that her Daddy has a boyfriend who doesn’t live with them. It’s kinda embarrassing, so you should move in.”

“I think that’s a conversation we can have when you’re sober,” Jaskier deflected. He and Geralt have never talked about him moving in, and Jaskier was okay with that. He understood that he was probably scared to fully let Jaskier into his life, even after over a year of dating.

“I am sober.”

“Then in the morning, darling,” Jaskier said again. Geralt grumbled but didn’t complain, just snuggled closer to Jaskier.

It was quiet for a long time. Jaskier thought that Geralt was finally asleep, but he was wrong.

“Jask?” Geralt whispered. Jaskier hummed, but otherwise didn’t answer. Geralt didn’t like that because he placed his hand on Jaskier’s face, forcing him to look vaguely in Geralt’s direction. “Jask, Jaskier listen to me.”

“I’m listening!” Jaskier laughed, face slightly squashed by Geralt’s hand. 

“I love you,” Geralt said, and it was obvious to him that he thought it was the most important thing in the world right now.

“I love you too, my dear,” Jaskier mumbled. “Now, go to sleep. You need it.”

Bonus!:

“I see you two made up,” Yennefer said when Jaskier opened the door. Jaskier stared at her confused.

“What are you doing here?”

“Dropping off Ciri. I have a business trip I need to take.” Jaskier felt a tiny body tackle him, shoving his face into his stomach.

“Jaskier!” Ciri cheered, hugging him tight. “I missed you! Daddy said you were visiting family! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It was a secret trip,” he answered easily as he hugged her back. “I couldn’t tell you in case someone overheard me. We don’t want the secret getting out, right?” 

Ciri nodded her head in understanding. She gave him one last hug before running past him.

“Where is Geralt?” Yennefer asked.

“He’s laying in bed with a hangover.” When Yennefer gave him a confused look, he explained. “He came to my work last night to apologize, and I guess he forgot that you were bringing Ciri back over because he just drank after we made up.”

“That idiot,” Yennefer mumbled. They heard Ciri yell ‘Daddy! Daddy, wake up!’ and Jaskier quickly turned around, calling back to her.

“Ciri, princess, Daddy is sleeping!” A second later they heard Geralt groan as Ciri laugh, most likely from jumping on the bed—or on Geralt. It’s not the first time she would have done it.

“And, she doesn’t care,” Jaskier sighed. Yennefer laughed and shook her head.

[lemondropsssss]

There is a twenty-seven-second stretch of time between when Jaskier wakes up and the exact moment he remembers he invited Geralt of Rivia and his Child of Surprise Cirilla, the fucking Lost Princess of Cintra, into his home. Of his own free will and with embarrassingly little prompting. Maybe, just maybe, if he stays in bed for a few moments longer his house guests will have magically disappeared. Geralt’s a Witcher and weird magical shit happens all the time, it’s possible.

But then a door opens down the hall and the too heavy footsteps of decidedly-not-Bea and most-definitely-Geralt sound on the stairs, which seems fairly damning evidence for the ‘Geralt is still in his house and he is going to have to deal with that in a mature way’ side of things. And mature adults rise early and make pleasant conversation with their guests over breakfast. He leverages himself up with a groan and goes about getting himself ready for the day.

Jaskier washes his face in the clean water Bea left out for him the night before, grateful for the cold as to shake off his morning apprehension. He dresses plainly in a off-white shirt, dark blue doublet, tawny-brown breeches with soft leather boots of the same color, and then spends possibly too long staring at his reflection in the glass before deeming the outfit acceptable. With a last fluff of his hair he makes his way downstairs, steadfastly not thinking about the heavy weight of nervousness clinging to him.

At the ground floor landing he stops, hearing the soft murmur of a girl in the front room. He pushes open the door, and can’t help but smile at the sight that meets him. Ciri is curled up on the ledge in front of the window. Her bedspread is draped over her shoulders, and she has tucked it over Arthur next to her. The old dog looks smitten, basking in the attention as Ciri strokes soft fingers through his fur.

“-And that’s when I found Geralt, or he might have found me, and then we found Yen together. Geralt said that we’re going somewhere high in the mountains. Have you ever been?” Arthur doesn’t answer, but that doesn’t seem to deter Ciri. “Me neither. I’m excited about the snow, though. Geralt said it’ll get as tall as him, but he might’ve been joking, it’s hard to tell with him.”

“It’s all in the eyes,” Jaskier says, blatently forgetting that Ciri did not know she was being overheard, and then feeling terrible when it frightens her. The girl jumps nearly half a foot, whirling around to face Jaskier with a wild look in her eye, and nearly toppling off the ledge as she does. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” He steps further into the room, hands held towards her with his palms up. She relaxes incrementally, tucking her blanket tighter around herself, but he can tell she’s still on edge.

“Geralt and Arthur are much the same,” Jaskier says and takes a seat in a plush armchair a good few feet away, letting her have her space. “Not particularly verbose, either of them, but good listeners.” He offers a smile which she returns. “There were some days when we were traveling I don’t believe Geralt said more than two words to me. But he didn’t mind if I talked,” Liar, the voice in his head hissed, “And I knew he was listening.” What nonsense are you filling her head with? “But joking, that’s all in the eyes. I didn’t even notice it until he’d done it a few times, but the corners of his eyes crinkle when he’s laughing, even if his mouth looks the same. Best way to know a Witcher, my dear: study the eye crinkles.”

Ciri regards him for a long moment, head tilted to the side in thought. Just like Geralt, isn’t it? Would he like the lie you’re spreading?

“Did you sleep out here all night?” He asks, finding her gaze far too searching for his comfort level.

“No, I uh-” She pauses, and her fingers resume their petting through Arthur’s fur, “I couldn’t sleep. I have dreams, sometimes, that aren’t very friendly. I saw him here when I went up to bed last night, so I thought he might still be here. I meant to go back up, but I liked watching the people. I missed the city.” It’s a quiet admission, but Jaskier understands. There’s a difference between city quiet and middle of nowhere quiet. Insects, birds, animals, cannot match the ever-present hum of a city. Growing up in a castle is much the same; there’s always someone awake, some human making noise somewhere. The absence of that can be jarring, and Jaskier well remembers his many sleepless nights under an open sky.

Jaskier lets her be, watches her watching the world wake up. He leaves after a long moment, casting a backward glance at Ciri and her companion. She has resettled them with Arthur stretched over her lap, her fingers scritch-scritching against his head, leaning cross legged against the wall of the window seat, a tired and lost look in her eye.

He takes the stairs to the kitchen two at a time, resolving to bring Ciri some breakfast at least, but stops short before he reaches the last step.

“My horse.” He hears Geralt say, voice rough and worn. It seems both his house guests are in need of recuperation.

“Oh, yes, I had Erik take her two houses down to the Roiche home. After Master Julian helped their son get into the University they’ve given us use of their stables when we have the need. I can send for him or-”

“I’ll take him, Bea. I think we both know Erik won’t be among the living for a few hours yet.” They both startle at the arrival of Jaskier, Geralt’s face dropping into a scowl and he knows it’s because Geralt didn’t hear his arrival. “Bea, Fiona slept poorly, she’s in the front room with Arthur now. Will you bring her some toast with butter and jam, and maybe a cup of your sleepy tea?”

Bea tuts something about poor dear girls and bustles off to prepare her meal, setting the kettle to boil, slicing the bread, pulling this bottle and that jar down from the pantry, all with expert skill honed over her years in the kitchen.

“Who’s Arthur?” Now Geralt’s scowl is about something entirely different. “I don’t like leaving Fiona with a man I don’t know, Ja- Julian.”

“Well good, because it’s a dog Geralt, good gods. Although,” He pauses to consider, smirk firmly in place, “Watching you try to fight the ten pound dog might be entertaining. We should consider it as an afternoon activity. I bet Fiona’d like it.” He ignores Geralt’s warming growl and turns on his heel quickly to hide his grin at provoking such a reaction.

“ Julian. The horse.” Ooh, scary voice. A look over his shoulder confirms he has on his scary face as well.

“Yes, yes, c’mon, then. It’s rude to keep a lady waiting.” Jaskier leaves without bothering to check if Geralt is following him, but he can feel the Witcher’s eyes on him as they leave the house. He guides them down the sleepy street a short ways, coming to a stop at a gated alley between two houses. He unlocks it with a key from his belt purse, and leads Geralt down a narrow path opening into a small courtyard with a small but well built stable tucked in behind the residence.

Roach is alone in the stall, and she lets out a nicker at the sight of friends. Jaskier approaches slowly, hand held out flat for her to sniff. He’s known multiple Roaches over the years, but all the mares have seemed to have the same bite-first policy when it came to unsanctioned touching.

“Hello, you brave, beautiful creature. Do you remember me?” Roach butts her head into his chest, and he huffs a laugh. “I’ll take that as a yes. I’ve missed you.” He whispers it like a secret as he strokes a hand down her velvet soft muzzle. He traces his fingers across the delicate white markings on her face with a soft reverence. He’d liked every previous Roach well enough, but this was the only one who’d ever returned his affections. It may have had something to do with the treats he’d fed her any time he thought Geralt wasn’t looking.

“She missed you, too.” Geralt’s voice from behind makes him jump, and Jaskier realizes he has quite forgotten they had an audience. “She was mad at me for a week after- well, after. Didn’t like that you were gone, kept trying to get into my pockets for treats.” His voice is low and rough, like he’d been speaking the whole night, and Jaskier does not turn to meet his gaze. “You always said she had better sense than me. Think you might’ve been right about that.” A pause, a clearing of the throat, and then the graze of fingertips at his elbow. “I think you might’ve been right about a few things, actually.”

“Oh? Twenty two years and I might’ve been right about ‘a few things’?” Jaskier turns and instantly regrets the move as it brings him chest to chest with a too-close Geralt. “How-” His throat is suddenly very dry and really, when did Geralt get this close? The man hates unnecessary physical contact. Jaskier folds his arms over his chest to hide his shaking hands before clearing his throat and trying again. “How magnanimous of you, Witcher. Tell me, which things was I right about?”

“Fiona, for one. Whenever you tried to broach the subject on the Path I shut you up, or just left you somewhere. That was unfair of me.” Geralt’s brow furrows, his head tilts to the side, and the way that alone tugs at Jaskier’s heart is wildly unfair. How can he be so endearing even now? “That was when I started pushing you away, I think. After Cintra. I knew you went back there, that you’d seen her and I couldn’t...” He trails off, and the silence stretches between them.

“Never knew you to be the introspective type.” It’s said quietly and mostly directed at Roach, but he knows Geralt will hear him.

“Yen might’ve had something to say about it all last time we were together.” Cue blood rushing in his ears, a pressure in his head, a percussive beat sounding out Yen Yen Yen Yen Yen against his skull. “She didn’t like it when I told her what had happened. What I said. She’s the one who suggested finding you here on our way to Kaer Morhen. So I could apologize.”

“So all this is just you doing as your witch tells you. Makes sense, I’ve never known you to be so acquiescent to anyone else.” He can’t keep the bitterness from his voice, and it sours on his tongue even as he says it. He should have known Geralt was back with Yennefer. That’s what he did; she would swann in with some magical adventure and he would drop everything to follow her, and then when their dual stubbornness would come to a head and she’d leave him in a fit of righteous anger he would trail back to Jaskier to start the game all over again. And Jaskier would let him, the absolute fool, every time. “Huh, introspective and obedient. I knew I should’ve done a silver test when you showed up at my door.”

Hurt passes over Geralt’s face and he draws back, eyes darting across Jaskier’s face. He’s still for a moment before he reaches into his boot, bringing out a small silver dagger. He presses it to the skin of his forearm for a long moment before holding out the hilt to Jaskier. “If you’re unsatisfied, feel free to test me with whatever you like, however many times you like. I’m no doppler and no trick, Jask.”

“My name is Julian,” He snaps, before looking down at the knife in his hand. At the sight of it his eyes widen, and a weight drops onto his chest.

Jaskier grasps the hilt in a shaking hand, testing the familiar strength in his grip. He knows this knife. Geralt gave him this knife when he turned twenty-five. There were buttercups carved into the blade, and he’d fancied it as a lover’s gift back when he still let himself believe such nonsense. Silver for monsters. It had been one of the things left in Geralt’s pack when Jaskier fled the mountain top.

“Why do you have this?” He croaks out, swallowing against the tightness in his throat before trying again. “Why would you keep this?” He tries to push it back into Geralt’s hand but the Witcher refuses.

“It was a gift, freely given. It belongs to you.” Geralt closes the distance between them again, gaze earnest and utterly heartbreaking in its sincerity. Fool us once shame on him, fool us a hundred thousand times? By then you do not play a fool, you are one. A weak, sad, fool who falls for the same trick every time.  

“You- you can’t do this again. Geralt, I won’t do this again.” Because suddenly he’s drowning in it, in the warm glow of Geralt’s undivided attention and it burns inside. And maybe it’s a good burn but all the good is drowned out by the anger-sadness-confusion-desperation playing in his chest.

“Do what?”

“This.” He gestures wildly between the two of them. “This thing you do when she rejects you and you come to me so I can sing your praises and make you feel cared for, which I’ll do because I am an absolute glutton for punishment and unavailable men, but it’s just until you get sick of me or she calls for you.” Jaskier turns his back, burying his head in Roach’s neck to avoid the struck look on Geralt’s face. “It’s- it’s not fair , Geralt. It’s just not fair. And I can’t do it again.”

It’s a long time before either man speaks. Jaskier can feel the warmth of Geralt at his back, but keeps his head planted firmly against Roach. Finally, he feels Geralt reach out and skim his spine with soft knuckles. Then, hands on his waist, softly pulling him back from the horse and turning him against a firm chest. He tucks his face against Geralt’s neck, breathing in the familiar scent and hating himself for how safe it feels. Geralt’s arms wrap around him, one hand cupping the back of his head, the other circled around his waist. He’s never been held with such reverence and it takes his breath away.

“Not again, Jask. I promise.” It’s words rumbled from the mouth by his ear, and it sends a shiver down his spine. “I promise this time will be different.” Geralt says with such conviction, Jaskier almost believes him. Almost.

-

@geralt-struggling-love asked to be tagged

part one part two part three and the full story is on ao3 here

[ficsandcatsandficsandcats]

Here’s an idea for Punk!AU! How about Sam is on her first proper date with Nic, and Daddy Jaskier with the help of Uncle Geralt and Uncle Valdo follow them to spy on them (as Jaskier is feral that Sam and Nic might do more than just kissing), and Jaskier sees them kissing passionately, and overthinks that they’re going to get it on, in which Sam gets angry at her for treating her like a child, and Jaskier feels guilty thinking his daughter hates him and they hug and say sorry in the end.

Fandom: The WitcherPairing: Punk!Jaskier x Fatherhood, Punk!Uncle SquadWord Count: 2,176Rating: TTaglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak @whatevermonkey @mynamesoundslikesherlock @magic-multicolored-miracle @writingstudent @mlleecrivaine @coffee-and-stories @ultracolorfulnerdcollection @astouract@your-not-invisible-to-me @kemmastan  a/n: Bless these sweet babies and bless the Uncle Squad + Dad!Jaskier’s hearts and most of all bless you for the prompt, nonners

Jaskier had actually allowed himself to believe that maybe Sam and Nic wouldn’t ever date. Valdo shot that down every time he voiced it, citing his own longtime feelings for Aevryn that he didn’t act on until much later. Geralt never really told Jaskier he was wrong but he grew suspiciously quiet and distracted by something whenever Jaskier asked him to back him up. The pair had been crushing on each other a bit since they’d met in middle school and now they were in high school and still nothing.

Until today.

Sam had announced casually that Nic was taking her on a date to the aquarium that Friday evening and when Jaskier protested that he hadn’t asked his permission she’d wrinkled her nose and reminded him that it wasn’t the 19th century. Jaskier had looked to you for support but again was left on his own as you gave him a look.

“Nic is a good kid,” you told him later, “They’ve known each other forever. Yennefer is friends with his mom. There couldn’t be a better first boyfriend for her.”

But Jaskier wasn’t convinced and finally he got the support he was looking for when he told the guys about the date.

“He’s making his move,” Valdo said, leaning against the pool table he’d been practicing on like some sort of mafioso. Geralt’s brows furrowed and he clutched his tumbler of scotch a bit tighter.

“I like Nic, don’t get me wrong. I trust Sam and I trust him as two separate individuals but put them together and it just feels….” Jaskier trailed off, trying to find a word to describe his roiling emotions.

“Off,” Valdo finished for him, “As well it should be. We’ve all been young kids before. Some of us are still old in fact.”

He preened as Geralt and Jaskier rolled their eyes.

“She’s your daughter too so we have to be careful of that,” Valdo remarked. Jaskier’s eyes shot daggers as he pulled himself up to his full height.

“What the hell does that mean?” he demanded.

“Oh calm down we know exactly what that means. The kid is a charmer and she’s got an appetite for romance. It isn’t bad, god knows I’m not judging or shaming, but she’s still only 16 and doesn’t understand the emotional toll of being intimate,” Valdo explained. Jaskier paled. He hadn’t even considered… intimacy. He and Y/N had talked with her about sex a long time ago, emphasizing matters of consent and dispelling the virginity as purity myth. You tried to raise her with a healthy knowledge of sex but that didn’t make the idea of you engaging in it any better. When Jaskier looked at you he could still feel the weight of you in his arms, the clutch of your tiny fist around his finger.

“What do I do?” Jaskier exclaimed, feeling utterly at a loss.

“You said it’s this Friday? As in tomorrow?” Valdo asked. Jaskier nodded in agreement.

“Valdo…” Geralt said, his voice warning.

“Hey! Listen! I mean no ill will to the kids but there was a time not long ago when chaperones were a thing. I’m just wondering if perhaps it may behoove us to bring that tradition back,” Valdo said.

“I don’t know…” Jaskier said, though Geralt could see the wheels turning in his mind.

“Alright well how about this… It’s been awhile since I went to the aquarium, a very public space which people have every right to go to. And it’s been awhile since the three of us went out for a guy’s trip,” Valdo suggested. Geralt swirled the scotch in his glass and thought for a moment. He could feel Jaskier waiting for his response, gauging how he felt and trying to be patient.

“I do like the otters,” Geralt said simply.

—–

“Oh my god they’re so cute!” Sam exclaimed, watching a sleek river otter work at opening a clam. Nic watched her, his long, brown curls brushed out of his face so he could watch her face light up with delight. He’d wanted to do this for some time but he was always scared, worrying that asking out his best friend would lead to losing her. His mom had advised him to go for it, ultimately. And he was so glad. They’d had some seafood for lunch and he’d impressed her with his octopus facts. In truth he could have told her anything about any creature and she would’ve been impressed, happy to hear him speak and that his hand kept brushing against hers, as they were right now. She reached out and took his hand in hers and pointed with the other one to a fluff otter baby but Nic’s eyes were on their entwined hands, heart pounding with excitement.

“Ah bless,” Valdo sighed, watching the young couple from around a hall corner.

“She looks so happy,” Jaskier whispered, brushing a tear away.

“Hmm,” Geralt replied, but there was a mistiness in his eyes too. Ciri hadn’t begun dating yet (as far as he knew), too focused on school and her activism, but he knew the day would come before he was ready. This was a bit of a test run for him, except Sam felt just as much like a daughter as Ciri.

“Shit they’re on the move,” Valdo hissed and the three men nearly fell over themselves running out of the way. They successfully followed at a distance, each wearing an attempted disguise to not bring attention to themselves from fans or Sam, and they followed them into a circular room where fish swam around the sides and above them. Though it was a popular attraction there weren’t as many people and Sam and Nic seated themselves in the middle, staring up as beautiful varieties of fish swam around.

“You know, the Pacific Northwest has over 40 subspecies of Sculpin alone?” Nic said, his deep brown eyes finding Sam’s pale blue ones as he recited the fact.

“How do you know so much about fish? You’re a baker, not a fisherman,” Sam asked with a laugh.

“Hey, I can be both! Don’t put me in a box, Pankratz,” Nic teased, a glint in his eyes. She quirked her an eyebrow at him and pretended to tap her foot, waiting for the answer. He finally relented, dropping his gaze sheepishly.

“I, uh, may have done some googling ahead of time to try and impress you,” he admitted.

“Nic Merigold, that may be the cutest thing I have ever heard,” Sam said. Nic’s eyes met hers again and she leaned in a bit closer. He swallowed hard, eyes falling to her lips, and he moved in as well until their lips gently touched.

“That’s alright, that’s fairly painless,” Valdo said, though he whispered through gritted teeth. Geralt clutched Jaskier’s arm, both to comfort him and because he needed to wrap his fist around something, the primal protective urge he wasn’t proud of bubbling up in his chest.

Sam slid a hand into Nic’s curls and moved to deepen the kiss, tongue sliding across braces a little clumsily. They pulled apart suddenly as someone fell over by the entrance.

“Uncle Valdo?” Sam exclaimed, rising and walking over to the man who carefully righted himself. He tried to gesture subtly for someone behind him to move away but she ran up too swiftly and caught Jaskier and Geralt who were frozen mid-stride, their faces turning guilty.

“What… the… fuck?” Sam muttered, staring incredulously as Nic walked up beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. He was a shy boy but when someone he cared for was upset that became his focus and Sam was definitely upset.

“Sam!” Jaskier exclaimed, “Fancy seeing you here!”

“Don’t,” she snapped, tone and voice becoming an echo of her mother’s, “Were you spying on us?”

“Spying is a harsh word,” Valdo began but he stopped as Sam shot him a dirty side-glare that reminded him oddly of his own wife. It seemed Sam had taken a bit of all of the Vicious Mockery ladies. The way she held herself and the anger that emanated from her was all Yennefer, though she remained in command of her actions, much like her Aunt.

“Nic thank you for a wonderful day but I think I need to go,” Sam said. Nic reluctantly pulled his arm away and she gave him an apologetic look that cut through all three men’s hearts, as did the mournful look in Nic’s face as well.

“Until next time?” Nic asked. Sam turned to him and planted a brisk kiss on his lips, squeezing his hand and summoning a smile as she nodded. He smiled back and lamely waved at the three men before moving off towards the exit. Sam turned back to face the three of them and to their mutual horror there were tears in her eyes.

“Mitka, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to-”

“I’m not a little kid anymore. How can any of you tell me that I’m independent and can take what I want from the world and then turn around and spy on me when I go on a date. With Nic! Nic who you all know and love! Nic who’s been by my side since I was a kid! Why would you do this to me?”

She didn’t wait for their answer, spinning to run away towards a different exit than the one Nic had gone through. Jaskier moved to go after her but Geralt stilled him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Let her go,” Geralt said. The words struck terror into Jaskier as he considered the weight of all they could mean, but he relented.

Jaskier talked with Y/N about the day, confessing his role in what had happened and after a long conversation with a lot of similar expressions as the one he’d gotten from his daughter earlier that day, the two of you waited for Sam to return. You heard the door open and close downstairs five minutes before Sam’s curfew and Jaskier sat up.

“Do you want me to go with you?” you offered. Jaskier shook his head.

“I need to make this right on my own,” he said. You nodded, giving his hand a comforting squeeze, and texted Yennefer and Aevryn to thank them for dropping her back home, knowing that they’re who she would have gone to while upset.

Jaskier found Sam sitting in the kitchen, drumming her fingers against the granite countertop of the island. She glanced up when he walked in but looked away again.

“Uncle Valdo has offered me a car if I stop being mad at him. What’s your best offer?” she asked. Jaskier swore internally and made a note to talk with Valdo – yet again – about extravagant presents, much less bribes.

“What’s the going rate on a sincere apology?” Jaskier asked. She raised a hand and gave a “so-so” gesture which was all of the encouragement he needed.

“I shouldn’t have betrayed your trust,” he began, leaning against the counter to face her though her eyes stayed on the counter, “It wasn’t right. You’re smart and responsible and vastly wiser than I ever was at your age. And I do trust Nic, he’s a good kid. It’s… hard to watch your kids grow up. And that’s not on you, that’s something I need to deal with myself, but I want you to know that I see you as the young woman you are and I’m proud of you. And I won’t butt in again. Unless you want me to.”

“I won’t,” she said, eyes rising to meet his.

“I know,” he said a little sadly. She caught the sadness and sighed.

“Daddy I know you mean well and I know it’s hard. But it’s not like that much has changed. I still need you, just in different ways. Like, I may not need you to tie my shoes but I need you to trust me. And I may not need you to fight my battles for me but I do need you to be there for me when things go wrong,” she said. Jaskier smiled softly and nodded.

“I can do that,” he said.

“Good. Also, you’re totally paying for our makeup date,” she insisted.

“That seems fair,” Jaskier agreed.

“And you’ll let Uncle Valdo buy me the car,” she said, a sly look in her eyes.

“Nice try, Mitka,” Jaskier said, crossing over to her and pulling her into a hug.

“Eh, can’t blame a girl for trying,” she muttered, wrapping her arms around his waist and returning the hug. “I love you, daddy.”

“I love you too,” he replied, murmuring into her hair and trying to blink back the tears. When she pulled back there were some in her eyes as well.

“I gotta text Uncle Geralt. He’s been sending me memes all day so he must be real upset,” Sam said, reaching for her phone again. Jaskier shook his head and went back to the room where you were waiting for an update.

[elderbloodcarrier]

7. describe your favorite relationship dynamic. (can be any kind, platonic, romantic, familial, antagonistic, etc.) 8. do you expect your answered memes/asks to be turned into threads? regardless of answer, what’s your reasoning? 9. when you look at a new blog, what is it that makes you press the follow button? is it the muse, the aesthetics, the writing–? 10. what genre do you most enjoy, whether in roleplay, or fiction as a whole? (fantasy, period, superhero, etc.)

QUESTIONS FOR MUNS

7. describe your favorite relationship dynamic. (can be any kind, platonic, romantic, familial, antagonistic, etc.)

I typically love to write them all; family, romantic, angst, platonic, enemies, etc. But if I had to choose, I love romantic and family dynamics most. 

Like for example concerning Lara, I love to write things with her descendants (mostly Ciri, Pavetta & Calanthe) where she thinks of them as her family and will protect them, being the opposite of how her own people may act towards them. Its just because that’s how I think Lara would be if she was still alive and knew of them and it’d make the plot hella more interesting if your famed ancestor who gave you ‘a powerful blood curse’ that everyone hunts you down for is actually trying to defend you. 

8. do you expect your answered memes/asks to be turned into threads? regardless of answer, what’s your reasoning?

I mean, usually I don’t mind if we turn them into threads. I find memes/asks to be icebreakers that help give you a way to start something when you’re struggling to find the words (and honestly, I go through that a lot myself. I wanna start things with others, but the words are just lost on me in the moment or maybe it becomes difficult for the other person too with the same problem.) So yes, I will typically turn them into threads. Now if a partner doesn’t want to, that’s okay. 

9. when you look at a new blog, what is it that makes you press the follow button? is it the muse, the aesthetics, the writing–?

For me it’s usually a question if I can see our characters interacting. Yes, I admire another blogs aesthetics, especially because I wish I had the talent others do, and I may glance over the writing, but ultimately it’s our muses that gets me. Now with Lara being the obscure and posthumous character that she is in The Witcher Saga, it can be difficult for interactions at times, especially since I’m giving her the character exposition/exploration she didn’t get much of, instead having her story told by others with conflicting views. 

But it’s why I have her as a headcanon & canon divergent based character with multiple verses. I think if she is the first carrier of the Elder Blood that gives Ciri the abilities to travel through time and space to other worlds freely, essentially being the Lady of Space and Time, why can’t Lara do the same? Besides, it makes roleplaying crossovers with other muses all the more fun! <3

10. what genre do you most enjoy, whether in roleplay, or fiction as a whole? (fantasy, period, superhero, etc.)

I typically love to write it all; supernatural, romance, sci-fi, drama, historical, action, adventure, horror, comedy, etc. 

However, in terms of my favorites as a whole in fiction, it will always be fantasy, historical, supernatural and romance. It’s why I’m so drawn towards things like The Witcher, Tolkien’s Legends, and Period Dramas. 

[berriestart--lilacsweet]

Once Bitten, Twice Shy Part 1.5

NEW CHAPTER!  

Regis and Evangeline get to know one another better as they travel. Eva reveals details about her past and how she longs for a family. Regis comforts her after she become bitter and takes her anger out on him. Adorable fluff and bonding.

AN: This take place while Regis and Eva are on the road. An inbetween bit. Instead of messying up what I already have posted by rearranging things I'll just put this here and it can serve as a flashback I guess. Anyways hope you all enjoy! I had alot of fun writing this one.

BY FIRELIGHT AND STARLIGHT

PART: 1.5

Evangeline and Regis rode hard and traveled fast, only stopping long enough to eat and get a few hours rest when need be. Every night, as more time past, they became better acquainted with one another. Regis spent a majority of the time finding various herbs and flowers then passed the night time hours sketching their likeness into a leather-bound journal. To pass the time during the day they would quiz one another on the medicinal properties of various plants. Occasionally, Evangeline would surprise Regis with unique uses of certain herbs or mushrooms and what roles they played in Witcher decoctions, potions and oils.

He sketched most evenings by the fire; twirling stems, leaves, and petals in his slender fingers. His renditions were impeccable; the empty space around his drawings were slowly, over time, filled in with his delicate scrawl.  

His herbaria included specimens of phytology (flora), mycology (Fungi), and phycology (Algae). He was particularly interested in ethnobotany (the study of flora and their individual uses according to the region’s people). His herbarium was divided into sections using standard taxonomy with binomial nomenclature (a standard system of identifying species of living things using two-part Latin names). He studied every specimen’s preferred ecology, and their anatomy; dutifully dissecting everything and drawing its likeness on the smooth paper in his book.  

Regis was very thorough with his work; ensuring that every page was legible and every spare section of space used as to what could aesthetically be allowed. The leather-bound journal was large; over three inches deep by sixteen inches tall and eleven inches wide. It took up the entirety of his lap while he worked.

One night in particular they were sitting around their campfire when Regis beckoned the Witcheress over.

“Tell me what you think.”

“About what?”  

“Come, come.” he motioned for her to take a seat beside him. He had his legs splayed out before him and his back to a moss-covered log. She gave him a puzzled look, hesitant to sit so close to the mysterious, yet interesting and attractive stranger. “I’d like you to look over these last few entries to ensure I haven't forgotten or omitted anything.”  

She nodded slowly, still contemplating whether or not she wanted to sit so near to him.  

“I don’t bite.” he jest, sensing her hesitation. She rolled her eyes and took a seat beside him. He let his arm rest behind her on the log and handed her the journal with his other hand. She settled the book into her lap and thumbed through its pages, lightly running her fingertips over the graphite lines.  

“These are beautiful. You’re a talented artist, Regis.” she mumbled as she continued to look over his work.  

He chuckled lightly. “Thank you. It’s... taken me a very long time to get his far.”  

“I couldn’t draw like this to save my life. But...” she ran her fingers over a drawing of a bleeding heart. “I used to paint watercolors... a very long time ago.”  

“Really now? Since when are witchers taught the fine arts?” he asked genuinely surprised.  

“... Before... I became a witcher... I was the daughter of a merchant. My father was rather wealthy; I was taught many things befit a proper lady... like painting.” Evangeline sighed, moving on to another drawing in his book.

“You were a merchant’s daughter, I never would have guessed that. What... If I may ask, happened for you to want to become a witcher?”

“That... is a very long story.” she sighed leaning back against the fallen tree with him.

“I don’t' have any place to be.” he shrugged.

She sighed and glanced up at him. He gave her a soft smile of encouragement; something she was discovering was very endearing about him. “Well, this story begins a long time ago, longer than I care to admit, actually.” she sighed again. “When I was sixteen my mother passed away. My father had a hard time coping with her death. So, we decided to travel for a while; go to some distant lands and bring back wonderous things to sell. So, we did, only on our return journey our caravan contracted a mysterious illness. One by one our party fell ill and died... My father and I were the only ones to survive. We were traveling thought the upper range of the blue mountains... Winter came early that year. We wandered thought the wilderness for weeks, abandoning our possessions and treasures along the way.  Meanwhile, my father contracted the illness... Finally, we came across a small path. It was hard to track but I managed it somehow; it led to the Witcher keep, Kaer Morhen.”

She sighed again and brushed hair from her face. She felt his gaze on her, so she avoided him staring down at the pages of his herberia instead of making eye contact.

“That's when I met the Witchers: Geralt and Vesemir; I'm sure you’ve heard tale of them. They were kind enough to help me with my father... They convinced the others to take us in. My father got worse though, there was nothing to do. He didn’t last the first week... I was alone, the only woman in a strong hold of about a hundred men. The elders wanted to toss me out, but Vesemir convinced them to let me stay until spring when they could escort me to Novigrad. So, I pitched in to earn my keep; cooked cleaned, did the laundry... It kept me busy but... I couldn’t resist the library.” she smiled at the memory. “I read a lot. Vesemir brought me new books often. I kept to myself, but still managed to draw the attention of some...” she sighed and shrugged. She felt Regis’ eyes boring into her, she grimaced and kept ignoring him, not wanting him to see her face as she spoke the rest of her tale.

“He tried to force himself on me, luckily for me though, Geralt was paying attention as well. He saved me. And offered to teach me how to defend myself. The next few months I learned all I could. I trained with Geralt as often as we could.” She chuckled before continuing. “He said I had a natural aptitude...” she swallowed hard before recommencing her story. “And he taught me fighting techniques only witchers use. One day, while training by the lake, we were attacked by a kraken. I... My body was broken.” She looked down at the palms of her hands and flexed them as she sighed. “Luckily, again, we were being watched. Vesemir and some of the trainees counter attacked and Geralt swam out and killed the creature; a few were injured in the battle, but … I was dying. Geralt and Vesemir decided they would put me through the trials of the grasses in an attempt to save my life. The Elders refused, but somehow Geralt convinced them, he’s rather good at that I suppose.” she laughed with a crooked grin. “He told them it’s what I would have wanted and they gave in. Surprisingly it worked. I lived, it affected me slightly different that the others.” she twirled her hair in her fingers as she spoke. “And... that's how I became... this.” she shrugged with a sigh.

Regis wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her to him. “I had no idea you’d been through so much, Dear. You’re certainly the strongest woman I've her had the pleasure to have known... Thank you for sharing your life with me. I... I’ve a newfound respect for you.”  

She shook her head against his chest. “Doesn’t change anything. Still me.”

“Well, yes, but most people couldn’t even imagine going thought what you have. Let alone live through it. And, well, you’re one of the most famous witchers of our time. I’d day you adapted well.”

“I had to... I’ll admit it was hard at first... I had issues accepting the changes to my body... and lifestyle, but I was thankful to even be alive... I had to be.”  

Regis nodded and continued to hold her, running his hand through her hair. She let him. It was nice to have someone who wanted to listen to her; someone who held her as though they cared.  

“I think the hardest thing... Is growing older and knowing what all I missed out on... A family... Never being able to bare a child still hurts... Even after all the training and mutations... It's still a base instinct, want, need for a woman... Something that even witcher life couldn’t take away.”

He kissed the top of her head. “I know it's not the same... But you could always settle down and adopt. There's plenty of orphans in need of loving families after the war.”

Evangeline shook her head and sat upright. “Who would want a barren wife? Let alone a monster slayer... a murderer... for a wife?” she scoffed. “No, that'll never happen.” she muttered trying to stand up only to be pulled back down by Regis.  

“You might be surprised by what some men want, what some are open to, what some are willing understand and look past...” he said gazing into her eyes.

“Or men who feign those emotions and intentions only to use me as their mistress, because I can’t bare a child. I’ve been down that path before. I’m done trying to be normal Regis. Witchers aren’t meant to have families.” she said a bit harsher than she meant, pushing him away and rising to her feet.  

“That’s not true. Geralt has his family, surely you’ve heard of Ciri and Yennifer.”

She paused a moment. “Yes, I’ve heard of Geralt’s love of the sorceress Yennifer and their adoptive daughter, Crillia. Geralt’s situation is... unique. Beside women find witchers attractive; they’re mysterious and women can’t become pregnant from them. It’s the exact opposite of my situation. Men fear me. They fear those stronger than themselves, while most women welcome witchers to their beds... I’ve yet to find a man with similar intentions, normally they shun me, run me out as soon as the job’s done.”

“I assure you-”

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore, Regis. I shouldn’t have said anything to begin with.” she growled sliding into her bedroll, her back to him. “This is why I don’t keep company.”  

“But Eva-”

“Just drop it, Regis. Go to sleep, we still have a long journey ahead.” she sighed, angry with him for pressing the topic and angry with herself for even opening up to him.  

“You can go on to sleep...” he said flatly. “I’m going for a stroll. You’re welcome to join me if you wish.” he stated as he walked away into the woods. Evangeline grunted and pulled the blanket up further around her shoulders.  

“Suit yourself.” she grumbled. He shook his head and ran a hand though the hair at the base of his neck.

“Why do witchers have to be so damn stubborn?” he thought out loud as he disappeared into the darkness of the forest.  Eva tossed and turned cursing herself for opening up to him, then for being so harsh with him. She ground her teeth. The cold earth beneath her penetrated her body as she forced herself to lay there trying her best to calm herself. She adjusted herself, moving some missed twigs out from under her and settled back down. Some time went by as she waited for his return, internally hoping he would come back sooner rather than later, hoping that he wouldn’t stay cross with her.  

“Damnit.” she muttered climbing out of her bedroll. “I won't be able to sleep until I apologize to him. She muttered as she grabbed her swords and followed his tracks into the woods. She traveled about half a mile before she spotted him in a small clearing. He sat on a large tree trunk looking up into the night sky.  

“I wondered how long it would take you.” he said not taking his eyes off the starry sky. He motioned for her to sit beside him. She smiled slightly and sighed before taking the vacant space beside him. “Sometimes I forget how lovely my surroundings can be. It’s beneficial to get a new perspective at times.”  

Evangeline nodded and gazed up at the stars with her companion. The sky was pitch black but littered with millions of little white, blue and red tinted specks. She didn’t remember the last time she had stopped to take in the beauty of the constellations. She felt at ease beside him; her anger having subsided she accepted the simple happiness of just sharing this experience with him.

“Eva... I’m quite sorry for earlier. I didn't mean to upset you.”  he muttered, turning to face her, breaking the silence between them.

She shook her head. “You have nothing to apologize for Regis. I’m the one who should be asking for your forgiveness. I over reacted.”  

He smiled softly down at her and wrapped his arm around her pulling her to his side again. “I shouldn’t have pushed the subject. I... I understand why you feel how you do... I’m not exactly welcome by most people either. It took you a while to warm up to me as well.”

“I’m sorry Regis. I’ve been an inconsiderate ass.” she said pulling away to look him in the eye as she apologized.

“I think we both are equally guilty. Call it even?” he asked. She nodded her head and allowed him to pull her to his chest again. She closed her eyes and savored the moment. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had been so kind to her. They sat there in silence simply enjoying one another’s company. Slowly he slipped his hand down to rest on her hip, she welcomed it.

“Regis?”

“Hmm?” he hummed lazily as his head rested atop hers.  

“Do you... Nevermind.”

“No, do I what?” he asked pulling back to look her in the face.

“I... I don’t know... Am I...” she shook her head and looked away suddenly afraid to ask her question; afraid of what his answer might be.

“I see.” he sighed pulling her back to him. He kissed the top of her head. “You don’t scare me.” he chuckled. “I think you're perfect the way you are. Don’t let any man make you feel otherwise.”

She closed her eyes and nodded. She took in his herby scent and hugged him. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it Dear.” he mumbled into her hair, as he ran his fingers through her long locks. They sat there in one another's arms for what felt like an eternity to Evangeline. She didn’t want to move from him, she wanted to stay wrapped in his strong arms entranced by his delightful scent until she fell asleep.  

“Come on.” he sighed stretching his arms above his head. “We’d best get a little sleep.” he said pulling her to her feet and walking back towards their camp. “Thank you for being open with me, about your life.” he said slipping his arm around her waist with a smirk and resting his head against hers. “Perhaps tomorrow I’ll tell you more about myself...”

“I’d like that.” she replied with a smile. Turning her face up to his. He caressed her cheek with his fingertips as he tucked her hair behind her ear.  

“I would as well.” He leaned forward and kissed her gently on the cheek. “Goodnight Eva. Get some rest.”