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wren-ravenheart · 4 years ago

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You Tried So Loud To Love Me

@witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo

Prompt: Hanahaki Disease Relationships: Jaskier/Valdo Marx Rating: T Content Warnings: Minor blood Summary: Jaskier absolutely could not stand Valdo Marx for even a second. He was pretentious, too pretty for his own good, and had a terrible habit of writing sonnets and songs about the color of Jaskier's eyes and the swoop of his hair that he was absolutely certain were some sort of masterfully crafted insult to his person and reputation.

Tucked under a cut again for Length, though this one is over just over 2k words.

Cross-posted to Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31171259

There were exactly three things in life that Jaskier was absolutely certain of. Things that he could continue to count on even when the rest of his life was attempting to fall to pieces around him.

That Belleteyn is the best holiday.

That Toussaint is Hot and Pretentious.

And that Valdo Marx is an asshole.

Even when his pockets were empty, his lute strings snapped, or he suddenly found himself caught up in a mild court scandal that he assuredly had no part in, he could always rely on those few things. It was easy to keep moving forward when one was propelled by Pettiness and Lust. Even if he could never give an exact answer as to why he hated Valdo so much when pressed. Really now, you wouldn’t ask why the grass was green or the sun warm, so why would anyone ask Jaskier why he couldn’t stand that fluffy little upstart?

It was assuredly not because the rival bard did indeed stand two inches taller than him and was criminally handsome. Nor was it because he had a perpetual perfect smile on his face that refused to budge even when Jaskier threw his best insults at him. And it most assuredly was not because the thrice-damned bastard had written not one but Two Sonnets entirely about Jaskier’s eyes and hair and he absolutely could read the undertones of mocking that clearly lay within. No, it was clearly none of those things that irked Jaskier to his very core.

What kept his petty hate-fueled animosity going was the absolutely nonsensical crush he had on the bastard. A crush he had worked hard to snuff out with wine, women, and a few other bards who weren’t nearly as annoying as Valdo. A crush that clearly had not gone away with time. A crush that was currently trying to hurtle it’s slimy little self all the way into actual, ugh… Love.

Which made it even more frustrating than usual that Valdo was suddenly not his normal bubbly self, greeting Jaskier warmly and loudly as he strode into their mutually favorite tavern in the middle of Oxenfurt. He looked tired, and quiet, and barely glanced at Jaskier before shifting his gaze back into the pint of ale in front of him. Not wine? By Melitele, what was wrong with him?

“Well, well, look who the alley cat dragged in. Ale will go straight to your gut, Valdo. I’ll steal back the title of prettiest bard before you know it.” He sniped as he leaned against the table’s edge and smiled with too many teeth.

Valdo cut his eyes up and then back down. “Good day, Jaskier.”

The smile dropped from Jaskier’s face and he narrowed his eyes. “Good day? That’s it? Valdo, are you ill? I did take the title back already, didn’t I? That must be it! I’ve never seen you like this. Ah, it must be such a burn to know you’ve finally been bested by a true bard and exposed for the talentless hack that you are.” As he spoke, he gestured grandly with his hands. Valdo only winced once at the mention of being ill and firmly kept his gaze on his mug.

“Everyone already knew you’re the attractive one between us, Jaskier. No need to rub it in.”

Jaskier ceased his obnoxious flailing and took an actual seat at the table with him. He crossed his arms on the table in front of him and leaned in, lowering his voice to avoid being overheard. “Okay now you’re actually worrying me. I was expecting snide sonnets on my unruly mop and ‘lustful gaze’. Jabs, put-downs...anything but this. You are actually sick, aren’t you?”

Valdo slammed back the rest of his ale and stood up abruptly. Jaskier’s mouth dropped open in shock as he was glared openly at by his once-rival turned unnatural crush. “Leave off, Jaskier. Go bother the brothel workers.” And with that final gritted out jab, he stomped out of the tavern.

Jaskier was still staring in shock at the empty spot before him when the barmaid strolled by.

“You’ll catch flies, you leave your mouth open like that, boy.”

He clicked his mouth shut and quickly made his own way out and back to his lodgings.

This just wouldn’t do. What was Valdo’s game? Was he finally making good on all of Jaskier’s assholish attempts to make them public nemeses? Maybe Valdo could read minds; realized the strange feelings the bard had begun to have towards him and decided he was thoroughly disgusted by him.

Jaskier let himself slink into the beginnings of a depression and decided he’d just have to try and shake that off and find out what was going on with his Fri… Rival.

He followed Valdo whenever he could, ambushing him after lectures and hunting him down in pubs. He startled him so fiercely one of these times that the other bard broke down into what sounded like a very painful coughing fit, enough that caused him to pull out a handkerchief to cough into until his lungs settled from the surprise. He found this odd, and then odder still when as he went to ask after his well-being, Valdo abruptly shoved the handkerchief away and growled at him. Growled! Like some angry dog! And left Jaskier once again staring after him as he stomped away, agog.

A month later, Jaskier’s persistence had turned into straight up concern. Valdo was less angry with his antics and instead seemed constantly tired. There were bags under his lovely brown eyes and his hair had turned greasy and less kempt. He consulted these odd symptoms with a friend studying medicine and she mentioned it sounded like some sort of wasting disease. Jaskier was only familiar with a few of them, but none of them sounded like a pleasant time.

So, while still firmly trying to convince his brain that Valdo was still an absolute Arse and absolutely did not deserve his time or affection, Jaskier made soup. Warm pot nestled in the crook of his arm, he marched up to Valdo’s residence and knocked firmly on the door. No one answered. He knocked again. Deep coughs followed by the sounds of mild choking came from within and Jaskier decided basic decorum was right out the window. He pried open the door and rushed inside, looking for the source of the distress.

And there was Valdo; laid out on a lounge chair looking even worse than usual and slowly lowering a cloth from his mouth. There were flecks of blood on his lips and it appeared as if he couldn’t draw a full breath. Jaskier plunked the soup pot right on the floor and went directly to Valdo’s side.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were so ill?” He asked softly, dropping all the pretense of being a rampant jerk.

Valdo just looked at him sadly, too tired to muster up his recent attempts at dismissal. “I did not want you to know, Jaskier. You’re like the sun. So warm and happy. I could not bring myself to have you worry so I pushed you away.”

Jaskier’s eyes went a little wide and he reached out to take Valdo’s hand. It was so cold in his own, and he could make out the fine bones in his fingers. A wasting disease indeed. He rubbed his thumb over the other’s knuckles and shook his head slightly in dismay.

“I’ve been a right arse to you for years. Look at us. Idiots to the bitter end.” He murmured wistfully. “Is… is there anything I can do to help? To ease anything at all? I, uh… I made you soup. I thought it might be… nice?”

Now it was Valdo’s turn to look surprised. He squeezed the hand in his and looked over at the pot on the floor. “You made me soup? You’ve never made me anything.”

“Okay yes. Fine. That is true. I’m a complete and total jerk. My feet should not be gracing your illustrious doorstep, my knees not fit for your carpet. I’m sorry, okay? You’re talented. So talented. I’m at a loss without your poetry to bounce my own works off of.”

At this confession, Valdo cracked a little smile. “Maybe there is hope for you and I after all, dear Jaskier… You see, I ha-” A painful coughing fit cut him off abruptly, the force of it causing Valdo to nearly curl in on himself, clutching the cloth to his mouth as his body attempted to forcefully remove whatever was clearly killing him. Jaskier kept his hand firmly in Valdo’s as he tried to rub the other’s back in comfort. The touch seemed to help in some small way, and the hacking died off. Valdo slumped backwards panting, the hand with the cloth falling into his lap.

There, amidst the spattering of blood, lay small bright yellow flowers. Jaskier gasped loudly and shook his head.

“No, it’s a myth. It’s not real.”

Valdo attempted to clear his throat as he bunched the cloth with the flowers up and tried to hide it from view. “You of.. Of all people… .should know the… power of a story… where they come from...the truths hidden in the tales….We’re storytellers.. It’s.. poetic in it’s own way…”

“It’s a tragedy born of the old stories, is what it is. Wasting away from unrequited love? It’s madness. No one actually dies of a broken heart.”

“I’m not heartbroken, Jaskier. I’m simply in love with someone who is my sun and sky… and who absolutely cannot stand me. It will make the most glorious tragedy. I have already begun to write it.” Valdo smiled brightly as he caught his breath better and shifted to sit more comfortably. He squeezed his hand once more before letting it drop. “With any luck, I will finish it before I can no longer write.”

Jaskier stared into the middle distance over Valdo’s shoulder, taking it all in. It all seemed too outlandish to be real. Things that happened in tragedies and stories never actually happened in real life. Soulmates weren’t real. Kisses didn’t break curses. And people didn’t suffocate slowly on flowers for being rejected. But as he slowly shifted his gaze back to the pale, but still softly smiling, face of the absolute nuisance that was Valdo Marx, at lot of things clicked into place for him.

He had never hidden pithy put-downs into his sonnets. He had never crafted masterful insults through his songs. He had honestly and truly sung from the heart and he had called him his Sun. Valdo had been unashamedly, unabashedly, in love with him from the start. He was coughing up small yellow flowers… Buttercups...and had slipped back into waxing poetic over it all. Lord, the fool was fully gone on him. And he had been nothing but the most righteous arse over it all, so very full of himself and sure that the other was somehow mocking him and jealous of his talent.

Turns out it was Jaskier himself who was the pompous wastrul and talentless hack. He shuffled forward on his knees until he was flush against the lounge. Valdo looked over at him and lifted an eyebrow in question. A beautiful eyebrow set in a beautiful face that Jaskier was tired of pretending he wasn’t also long gone on as well. What was it that the storybooks always said saved the day, woke the princess, broke the curse? Ah… yes…

Jaskier set both hands on the cushion of the lounge and angled himself just right to gently lean forward and press his lips right against Valdo’s own. The man below him went very very still. His lips were soft, but the lack of any response twisted something uncomfortable in his gut and he slowly broke the kiss and moved away, eyes cast downwards.

“I’m sorry, I-”

“Jaskier, what-?”

They spoke at once. Jaskier looked up and noticed color on Valdo’s cheeks, his mouth slightly open and his eyes nearly comically wide in shock. He swallowed around a sudden lump in his throat.

“I’ve been a right arse to you, but I love you, Valdo Marx. And I do not wish to see you suffer a moment longer. It will kill me too.”

Valdo’s eyes fluttered shut and he let out a deep exhale. Jaskier panicked for a brief second, wondering if he had actually killed him, before he sucked in a very long and full breath and opened his eyes again. They shined with unshed tears and Jaskier had a moment to admire the sight and the warm feeling at finally giving in before he was being tackled to the ground in a crushing hug and warm tiny kisses were being pressed to whatever skin the other could find.

A laugh erupted from them, and Valdo’s kisses shifted from surprised, affectionate pecks, to soft and tender kisses meant to explore the other’s skin. Jaskier shifted slightly under him and set a hand to his chin, drawing him back to his own lips to continue the kissing. Valdo hummed happily and nearly melted into what he hoped was now his new Beau. The university community was going to have a field day with this.

Jaskier rolled them over and slowly moved his head away. Valdo attempted to chase after one more kiss, making him chuckle. “As much as I am enjoying making out on the floor like we’re back in year one… are you sure? Are you alright? You were coughing up most of your lung a minute ago.”

Valdo smiled up at him and reached up to run his fingers through Jaskier’s hair. “Yes, my love, I am quite well now. You’ve restored me and I suffer no longer. Now the story I write shall have a happy ending. A proper fairy tale after all.”

“Well, if you insist. Though I would be grateful to continue this discussion somewhere that is not the floor.”

Valdo’s laugh was bright and filled him with warmth as they both got to their feet and he began to tug Jaskier in the direction of a more private space. “Anything for the prettiest bard in Oxenfurt.”

And wasn’t Jaskier pleasantly surprised when Valdo took it upon himself to demonstrate just how much better he now felt, repeatedly and with vigor. As it turned out, stories always had more truth to them than he had ever expected, for this cursed ailment was most assuredly soothed with a Kiss.

~End~

#jaskier/valdo #jaskier #valdo marx #hanahaki disease #witcher rarepair summer bingo #prompt fill

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themadauthorshatter · 3 years ago

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If you're up to date with my posts, then you know what's about to happen.

I've read the books, WE'VE ALL READ THE BOOKS, but this is a somewhat fun switch-a-roo.

Expect a BUNCH of changes that I'll try justifying, especially painful ones, so bear with me🙏

OTP SWAP PART 1: THE CRUEL PRINCE!!!!

I'm starting with the first book for obvious reasons

Like before, we start in the mortal world with Ashley Duarte(yes, human!Cardan's last name is Duarte, but like I said, bear with me) making tacos in the kitchen while one of the MANY dogs and other animals wait for her to drop some food. Baby boy Cardan and his older half-sister Rhyia are watching some human stuff, maybe Looney Tunes or old Mickey Mouse cartoons, when the door is knocked on, which alerts the animals and wakes a half asleep Cardan; Rhyia does not wake up.

Cardan answers it and finds a cloaked Madoc at the door. Rather than ask who he is or call for his mother, he stares at this man, who kneels and asks as evenly as possible if his mother is home.

Cardan slams the door in his face, which prompts Ashley to ask why he did so.

Madoc BANGS on the door and shouts, "Asha!" and Ashley pales as she realizes who is at the door.

She demands Cardan to go upstairs as Madoc kicks the door open and walks inside, giving the same speech as the original, that Balekin told him she'd ran away with his daughter, that she killed a woman who was just as pregnant as her, that she ran away and married some lowly farm hand and blacksmith. He thought it was a lie, but nope. Here she stands.

Asha(which is her real name) is deeply ashamed at his words, and tries to pull Cardan away; an angry Madoc is an unstable Madoc.

Like before, Justin rushes in to save his family, but ends up getting kebabbed with his wife.

Rhyia does wake up to see both and Madoc spills the tea that she's his and needs to pack her bags because they're leaving, and Cardan's coming with.

Cardan, despite being seven, is outraged and tries to kick Madoc into oblivion with no avail. Rhyia, however, swears that she'll never love a monster like Madoc, who simply scoffs and tells her to wrangle the human and gather her things in half an hour, because they're leaving for Faerie.

Reluctantly, they do and they never see the mortal world again for a very long time.

Jump to the present day as Cardan, a now seventeen year old human heart throb, is getting prim and proper for a revel. His hair is getting styled nice, he's in a nice suit, he's wearing a cool belt that makes him look like he has a tail, and has ear cuffs that make his ears look pointed like a faerie.

He also has rowan berries on his wrist, because he doesn't want the necklace to be easy to see as a lot of his shirts show his chest.

He's dolled up and meets Locke, his brother that came around when Madoc married Oriana and had Oak. The two did not get along, at first, but they began to tolerate each ither as they realized they were the only humans in Faerie that were gentry kids.

Locke is more of a bard or a poet, always seen with a little book, and doesn't wear the same stuff Cardan does, so no pointed ear cuffs for him. He's also more accustomed to Faerie, being good with half truths and minor deception. He's on good terms with both Madoc and Oriana.

Cardan, however, is not on good terms with either of them, as he has tried multiple times to leave Faerie, with and without Rhyia with him, and every time ended with Madoc outside scowling at him and leading him back to his room. Still has that 'no kill' rule, but he's better with sneaking and a sword, having been able to lighten his steps so he could sneak past Madoc and his guards whenever he tried to leave. He's not bad with a sword, but he still has a lot to learn, being 17 and all. When he doesn't have a sword in his hands, he has an animal in them, i.e. a foal, a dog, or, at one point, a skunk that was calm enough to not spray him. Yeah, animal lover that can hold his own.

The two exchange banter and Locke shows show rare excitement for this revel, saying the two will have the time of their lives. Locke, who isn't as close with her, wonders where Rhyia is, but Cardan reveals she's not attending, instead going to visit some friends in the mortal world.

Her funeral as the boys saddle up with Oriana amd Madic and go to the revel.

Similar events occur, like Oriana telling the boys to be careful, Madoc talking to Dain and Balekin, and Locke leading Cardan through the revel so they can have a good time.

IT GOES DOWNHILL WHEN THE GREENBRIAR TWINS AND THEIR FRIENDS ARRIVE. Jude, her older sister Taryn, and their friends, Edir, a bard that can sing and play anyone under the table, Valerian, who's a sadist, and Nicasia, the princess of the Undersea.

Jude and Taryn may have the same face and body, but don't be fooled, Jude has horns, always wears a sword, and will slap you in a dress and then set it on fire without a second’s hesitation. Taryn, however, always has a bunch of flowers in her hair, always wears a dress, and uses words as her weapon. Did you know that she broke on of the most boisterous men in Faerie qith nothing but her words? True story. Edir is the guy that keeps them both in check, an order of Balekin's, which we'll learn later. He is also more of Jude's friend and Taryn's bed buddy, in SFW terms. Nicasia is Jude's friend, like FRIEND, and Valerian is the same, really, just more of an ass now that he has more even targets.

Everyone bows to these guys, even Cardan and a smirking Locke. That smirk vanishes when Taryn winks at Cardan, who Jude GLARES AT.

Locke feels the same way, cinfused and angry, but no time to think in it because Valerian storms toward a confused Cardan and grabs him by the collar, snarling that he can play dress up and make believe all he wants because it won't hide his plain hair or round ears or barn dog smell, so he shouldn't even bother.

Valerian throws him back and Locke rounds on Cardan, asking him what the hell that was between him and Taryn. Cardan brushes him off, as it was just a wink, not a lap dance. Before they can REALLY go at it, crying draws their attention and see that Jude just pincushioned someone who didn't bow, said someone nkw having a hole in their stomach and a slash across their torso. Taryn is annoyed, Nicasia and Valerian are trying not to laugh, and Edir, who's embarassed, is scolding Jude for losing it at a revel.

Jump to after the revel and the day of school. The boys do indeed get dirt kicked on their food, but instead of 'make me,' Cardan snaps, 'TRY me,' because Nicasia asks if he's as filthy as other human boys. Locke talks him down, but Valerian, kicking more dirt and even throwing some IN Cardan's face, asks if the two qould like them for friends.

Locke apologizes for Cardan, but Jude commands he prove it by dropping out of the tournament, it'll be less embarrassing than getting his ass beaten in front of everyone.

Nicasia spots one of the ear cuffs and pulls it off, asking if he stole it. Big mistake because the cuff burns her hand, as it is iron and iron hurts Faeries.

Cardan smirks and the group leaves, Locke scolding him for being stupid.

Later, at dinnner, after talk of Dain's coronation, Cardan, despite some minor objection from Rhyia, asks Madoc a question: May he please have a green sash for the tournament? Why? He would like to be a knight, please and thank you. Madoc chikes on his wine, Locke coughs to hide a laugh, Rhyia winces, and Oriana os shicked into silence.

Madoc gives it to him straight: he's not bad with a sword, he's good on his feet,and he's the best damned rider that anyone's ever seen, but no. He cannot compete for knighthood, on the count of being the furthest thing from a killer imaginable and just being in over his head.

Cardan protests that he can do just fine, but Madoc warns him to stop before he gets himself thrown in a dungeon instead if his room until the coronation of prince Dain.

Cardan relinquishes and we get the salt prank like before, except Locke is pissed beyond all reason at his foster brother. Cardan doesn't mind until he's grabbed by Edir and Valerian, Locke being pulled by the hair by Jude and both are thrown in the river, which has Nixies in it.

Thier supplies get yeeted, Locke gets pulled out by Valerian and is made to kiss Jude on the lips and both her horns, but, when asked, Cardan does not give up, vowing that he will never give up, which makes Jude laugh and the group leave.

Locke and Cardan walk home, get some baths, and go to bed, except they go to the mortal world with Rhyia and meet her friends Vivienne and Heather at the mall. Vivienne apologizes for Jude's behavior, and we learn that Rhyia is planning to leave Faerie, and is probably going alone.

The boys return and endure a lesson, but Jude pushes Locke's buttons, so Cardan pushes her into a tree. Challenge accepted.

TOURNAMENT TIME!! Cardan fairs wellin that Valerian is lazy, Edir is out of shape, and Jude got cocky, so he wins.

Jude fumes at him, later grabbing him by the tail on his belt amd demanding he beg for her forgiveness. He does... NOT! And spits in her face that she may push him down, but he'll pull her down with him, and it will hurt her like hell.

Taryn approaches him and expresses interest in him, saying that she once took both Edir and Nicasia from Jude because people just like a sensitive girl.

She leaves and the tournament eventually ends, which leads Cardan to return hime and meet Dain, who requested one of Madoc's people to tell Cardan one of Eldred's children had come for a visit.

Dain and Cardan get talking and Dain offers him something that isn't knighthood: spying. Plus one wish.

Cardan knows what he wants: to not be controled.

Granted, but Dain can still control him and the fruits of Faerie will still effect him.

Screwy, but deal, he's a spy now

STAY TUNED FOR PART 2!!!!!

#the cruel prince #the cruel prince trilogy #folk of the air #cardan greenbriar #jude duarte #locke #taryn duarte #otp swap #jude x cardan #jurdan

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fandomsalive · 5 years ago

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Kiss Me Like You Want To Be Loved

Kiss Me Like You Want to Be Loved | Jaskier has developed a nasty habit of kissing Geralt, and Geralt cannot for the life of him figure out why. | Geraskier | Teen and Up | 11,412 Words

Set some nebulous time after 1x4 (Of Banquets, Bastards and Burials) and before 1x5 (Bottled Appetites). Thanks forever to my wonderful best friend and beta @imnotinclinedtomaturity. You always make my writing so much better.

(Ao3 Link)

It comes out of nowhere, the first time.

It all begins innocently enough, on a relatively normal night in a tavern outside of Lyria. Jaskier’s fame and notoriety has been growing noticeably since Cintra, something that has made Jaskier even more irritating to travel with. It isn’t so much the bard himself as the attention he draws — though Jaskier has his own fair share of annoying traits to begin with.

Jaskier’s acclaim has grown just enough that Geralt isn’t surprised anymore when they’re approached by eager audiences, so he isn’t bothered when a young page first steps up to them that evening. He assumes it’ll be a request to sing in the town square, or to liven up the tavern they’re in — but it isn’t.

Instead, the page requests Jaskier’s attendance at the nearby lord’s home for a night of revelry. Not only does he offer an exorbitant amount of coin, but free room and board for the night, and the words have barely left the page’s mouth before Jaskier is agreeing, a greedy look on his face. He doesn’t even hesitate to jump up and grab his lute to follow after the page eagerly.

Geralt watches him go, amused despite himself, and grabs his tankard of ale leisurely. He has no intention of tagging along until —

“Sir,” the page squeaks, clearly half terrified of him, his voice shaking. Mildly surprised, Geralt puts down his tankard slowly to raise a brow at the boy. Jaskier stands behind him, impatiently hopping from foot to foot, clearly ready to go, annoyed at the hold up. He’s glaring at Geralt a little bit, as if it’s Geralt’s fault the page is still speaking to him.

“What,” Geralt says, and it isn’t really a question. He watches as the young boy swallows thickly before straightening up, seemingly pulling himself together.

“My lord requests your attendance as well,” he says, voice is much stronger this time. Geralt can still hear the quiver in it, but the boy hides it well. Geralt can’t help smirking a little in response, and picks up his tankard without answering to gulp down the last of his ale. When he slams it back down on the table, empty, it's to find that Jaskier is suddenly looking at him pleadingly.

“Geralt,” he says, stressing his name in an almost whine. Geralt just smirks harder.

“Hold your trousers bard, I’m coming,” he comments dryly, and stands.

They haven’t paid for their rooms yet, and their stuff is still with Roach, so Geralt allows Jaskier to lead them out of the tavern and towards the back of the inn. The stablehand is quick to hand Roach over. Geralt takes her lead gently as they make their way to the manor.

Jaskier is rambling at the page, who looks equal parts terrified and intrigued. His eyes keep flicking towards Geralt, as if he’s afraid if he looks away for too long Geralt is going to bite him. It amuses Geralt greatly, and he does nothing to dissuade the assumption.

Jaskier, on the other hand, is quick to notice, rolling his eyes dramatically before stopping in his tirade about the last town they’d been in, who clearly didn’t know a good thing when it hit them in the face, to instead address the problem.

“Ignore Geralt, he’s just a sourpuss,” Jaskier explains dismissively, humming a soft tune to himself. “If it would make you feel more comfortable, I’ll give you a free performance,” he adds, and perks up. “Come on, give me a song and I’ll play it for you — I’m sure Geralt will be right pleased if you do,” he says, and laughs, winking at Geralt while the page stares bemusedly.

The page does pick a song though, much to Geralt’s annoyance, and Jaskier picks it up easily, strumming his lute and singing along as they make their way through the town. Geralt mostly tunes it out until the wrought iron gates of the lord’s manor appear and Jaskier blessedly stops playing.

The page speaks a few words with the guardsman, who open the gates to admit them, and then takes Roach away with a terrified promise to have her seen too. Geralt makes the extra effort to narrow his eyes at the boy, just to make sure nothing happens to his horse.

Jaskier scoffs at him, and hits him on the shoulder. “Give the poor boy a break, Geralt, he’s not going to hurt Roach,” he says with a roll of his eyes. Geralt just stares at him before turning away.

A servant approaches them next and takes their bags, leading them up to two rooms sat side by side where they’re to stay for the evening. The servants have already set up a bath for both of them, but at Jaskier’s request, the servant also sends for someone to get Geralt a change of clothes. Geralt glares at Jaskier in annoyance, but Jaskier merely smiles brightly at him in return as he strolls into his own rooms.

Reluctantly, Geralt allows the servant to help him get settled. He’s halfway through washing when she returns with a change of clothes. Geralt grunts at her when she explains where she’ll be leaving them, hardly paying her any attention until she's gone.

Unfortunately, Geralt’s peace and quiet doesn’t last long, as he’s barely managed to finish washing and dressing himself when Jaskier returns, flouncing into his rooms unannounced.

“Don’t you look dashing,” Jaskier comments playfully, offering Geralt a cheeky wink. Geralt grumbles at him, and turns back to the mirror to adjust his dinner coat. He can see the bard hovering behind him, resplendent in his own clothes.

Jaskier is dressed in slightly fancier attire than usual; he’s got on a blue doublet buttoned all the way to his neck, striped through with a nice, golden thread. It’s really rather classy, and Geralt can’t help snorting at himself for the thought.

Jaskier gives him a strange look, but invites himself further inside and drops down onto Geralt’s bed.

“Get off,” Geralt grunts, just to be vexatious, glaring at Jaskier through the mirror. Jaskier grins at him but doesn’t otherwise move.

“Now Geralt, is that really the way you should be treating the man who got us free rooms for the night?” Jaskier teases, and just to be a menace, sprawls backwards on Geralt’s bed with his boots on and everything. Geralt rolls his eyes and moves away from the mirror to stand in front of him.

He doesn’t particularly care about the mess Jaskier is making of his bed, but Jaskier doesn’t know that, so Geralt looms over the bard just to see him squirm. Jaskier doesn’t, though. Instead, he stares up at Geralt with playful eyes and a smirk on his lips.

“Oh dear witcher,” Jaskier says breathlessly, batting his eyes coquettishly. “Whatever are you going to do with me?” he asks, simpering, and nearly swoons on the bed. Geralt can’t help rolling his eyes again, and bares his teeth just for the hell of it. Jaskier mock gasps, affronted, and Geralt reaches out to grab tight to Jaskier’s arm.

He isn’t gentle as he yanks the bard off the bed, but all it does is lead to Jaskier laughing at him and tumbling into his arms enthusiastically. Geralt feels warm everywhere Jaskier is touching him, and he shoves Jaskier away immediately, uncomfortable with the feeling.

“What do you want,” Geralt grumbles, hell-bent on changing the topic. He never knows what to do with himself when Jaskier flirts with him.

Jaskier chuckles as he straightens his clothes. “I thought we could head down together,” he explains delightedly. “After all, the lord did ask for both of us,” he adds, seeming pleased about something. He stares smugly at Geralt, waiting for… what, Geralt doesn’t know.

So Geralt just stares at him.

It only takes a moment, and then — “Well? Aren’t you going to thank me?” Jaskier asks, half amused, half incredulous.

Geralt merely grunts at him, and raises his brow in question.

Jaskier huffs good naturedly, shaking his head. “Only you would be so ungrateful,” he comments facetiously. “You wouldn’t have even gotten in invite if it weren’t for me,” he complains, mock frowning at Geralt. He crosses his arms over his chest, pouting now, but the smile tugging at the corner of his lips gives him away.

They both know being invited to a banquet is the very last thing Geralt wants.

Geralt snorts, and turns away, a smile of his own curling at his lips. “Come on, Jaskier,” he comments dryly, “Let's go and get this shit show over with,” he states contemptuously and walks away. Jaskier laughs, but is quick to meet him at the door.The banquet itself, once they head down, is luxurious. There are large platters filled with tiny cakes, and long, thin glasses filled with wine. Geralt would rather be back in the tavern drinking beer with Jaskier, but he supposes sitting in a corner by himself with some wine will have to do. Jaskier’s right about one thing — when it comes down to it, he has no right to complain. It’s Jaskier who's bringing in the coin tonight, not Geralt, and this time he doesn’t even have to kill something to get it.

He can put up with a few hours of fancy shit if it means that tomorrow they’ll be able to restock on provisions and comfortably prepare for the next few weeks on the road.

They party goers leave Geralt alone, for the most part. He’s forced to entertain the lord for the first hour or so, and every once in a while some count or countess will approach him, but they never stay for long. It's nice, for a banquet, and so far better than the last one Jaskier had dragged him to.

Jaskier has been playing for a few hours when the mood of the room seems to change. Geralt hadn’t really been paying attention to what Jaskier’d been playing, but Geralt is familiar enough with Jaskier’s music that he immediately picks up on the beginning notes of a less familiar tune.

He looks up curiously to find Jaskier in the crowd, and he’s surprised to realize that Jaskier is already staring back at him, his bright blue eyes sparkling, and his mouth turned up in a knowing smile.

Geralt’s brow crinkles, and it takes him a moment to recognize the song for what it is; a ballad about loving and longing that Jaskier has been working on for the last few weeks.

As soon as he recognizes it, Geralt frowns and his eyes narrow towards Jaskier in annoyance. For his part, Jaskier casually tears his gaze away and turns that knowing smile towards the crowd instead. Geralt thinks he even see’s Jaskier wink at a lady before he starts singing, and the sight shouldn’t make a sharp twisting feeling burn through his chest, but it does.

It’s confusing, to say the least.

The fairer sex, they often call it

But her love’s as unfair as a crook

It steals all my reason

Commits every treason

Of logic, with naught but a look

The song makes something ugly crawl beneath Geralt’s skin, and sets his teeth on edge the more he hears it. He hasn’t liked it since the first time he heard Jaskier singing it, and has, on more than one occasion, demanded that Jaskier stop playing it, but he has no real idea why.

It’s just annoying, and the way Jaskier looks at him when he sings it only makes it even more annoying. Something has changed between them, though Geralt can’t put his finger on what it is. Jaskier has just been different lately — he’s been flirting more, for one, if that evening hadn’t been evidence enough — and it had all started with the blasted song.

The change troubles Geralt.

A storm breaking on the horizon

Of longing and heartache and lust

She's always bad news

It's always lose, lose

So tell me love, tell me love

How is that just?

The crowd is eating the ballad up, the women sighing at the longing words, bodies straining towards the bard. It irritates Geralt more than usual for some reason, and he can’t help glaring at them. He blames the damn song.

Jaskier, meanwhile, is glowing under all of the attention, the soft tenor of his voice ringing throughout the hall as he moves, leaning in close to some of the women as if he’s crooning the words directly to them. Geralt’s fingers curl into fists against his palms.

He can’t say why his eyes are following the bard, but they are. He can’t seem to pull his gaze away, and he watches as the bard changes direction a few bars into the song, turning towards Geralt.

Before Geralt can yank his gaze away and pretend like he wasn’t staring, Jaskier’s gaze catches his, and holds him there. The look is like fire, and it rushes through Geralt’s veins for the entirety of the long moment it takes for Jaskier to look away again.

All at once, Jaskier’s destination seems to become clear to the entire room, and Geralt can feel the burning gaze of every person in attendance staring at him. Jaskier’s attention flits about, gliding over the nearby tables, but his path doesn’t change.

Geralt inhales sharply, glaring at anyone who dares to meet his gaze. Everyone seems to be staring at him with that same knowing look Jaskier had given him just a moment before, and it’s enough to drive him wild. He shifts, entirely uncomfortable with the attention, with the realization that Jaskier is headed his way and he doesn’t know why, but before he can get up and leave —

Jaskier is there, standing directly in front of Geralt, his eyes dancing and his smile full of breathless laughter. He leans in close, and sings:

But the story is this

She’ll destroy with her sweet kiss

Her sweet kiss

But the story is this

She’ll destroy with her sweet kiss

Geralt watches as Jaskier’s face draws ever closer, until he’s breathing the words against Geralt’s lips, just audible enough for those nearby to hear him. Geralt inhales sharply, and his fingers clench tighter against his skin. He can hardly hear the sound of Jaskier’s short laugh, more of a huff than anything else, over the rushing in his own ears, and then —

Then Jaskier’s pressing his lips against Geralt’s and they’re… they’re kissing. It’s brief, just a small moment, but it lingers, Jaskier’s warmth suffusing Geralt.

It’s so fast that Geralt doesn’t get a chance to react. He goes to inhale sharply against Jaskier’s lips, but it’s too late — he’s gone, pulling away and turning without a single word. The entire room seems to sigh, a sound born wholly of romance, as Jaskier starts to sing again.

Geralt can only stare, because that… is not something that has ever happened to him before. Not with Jaskier, that is.

The second time it happens is almost as sudden.

It’s been months since the banquet, and they’ve never talked about the kiss. Really, Geralt isn’t even sure there’s value in addressing it. All signs point to that night being a one off, a random night of extenuating factors that Gerat won't even pretend to understand.

First and foremost, there’s the fact that Jaskier had been drunk most of the night. Geralt isn’t sure when the heavy drinking had actually started — before or after the kiss — but by the end of the night, Jaskier had been giggling and clinging to Geralt the same way he always did when he’d had too much to drink.

Secondly, Jaskier hadn’t exactly been… alone, but he definitely hadn’t been partnered for the night, either. That had been somewhat of a surprise, considering Jaskier’s outrageous flirting at the beginning of the night, and Geralt had been fully prepared to drag Jaskier out of the bed of a willing, albeit married, lady, in order to save his arse from another vengeful husband. The night hadn’t ended up calling for it, though.

Rather, as the evening had gone on, Geralt had realized fairly quickly that Jaskier was… keeping to himself, mostly — as unusual as that was. Sure, there was an adoring crowd of onlookers, all plying Jaskier with drinks and encouraging him to regale them with never ending stories of Geralt of Rivia’s travels, but Jaskier’s attention was never on them more than necessary to earn their coin.

Surprisingly, extracting Jaskier from the attentive banquet had been an easy task that night; he’d come willingly, easily, although he’d definitely been rather affectionate. By the time they were staggering back to their rooms together — or at least, Jaskier was staggering, and Geralt was holding him up — the only exciting blip in the whole of the night was Jaskier’s jovial drunkenness… and the kiss.

Which they weren’t speaking about. Still. Even several months later.

Now, they're in a forest in Sodden, Jaskier strumming his lute at the fireside while Geralt cooks, smoking two trout on a roasting stick. For once, Jaskier is surprisingly silent, merely humming a tune that Geralt isn’t familiar with — not yet anyway.

Must be a new song.

They’re headed to Armeria, following a rumor about a devourer who’s graduated from hunting dead bodies to terrorizing the townsfolk. They’re maybe a day out, but it’s late, and Geralt hadn’t thought traveling any further tonight was a good idea.

They’re close enough now that the monster could appear at any moment, and Geralt hasn’t told Jaskier this, but the smell of their food could easily lure it out, if it’s near. Geralt glances at the bard, before sweeping his gaze across the woods around them.

He can’t sense anything closing in, but he’s not about to let his guard down.

“Fish is done,” Geralt grunts as he turns the roasting stick one last time, pleased with how it’s turned out. He slips one of the trout free from the stick, and drops it haphazardly into his lap before carefully offering the other to Jaskier.

Jaskier hums delightedly, and the soft sound of his lute playing ends abruptly as he takes the fish.

“Thank you, Geralt,” he says, far too cheery for someone who's been eating the same, flavorless meal over and over again over the last few weeks. “It smells heavenly!”

Geralt pauses, amused. “It smells like fish, Jaskier,” he quips, rolling his eyes.

The bard sputters indignantly, and Geralt doesn’t have to look to know that Jaskier is glaring at him. “Very astute, oh wise one. Who ever would have thought?” Jaskier shoots back dryly. “Can’t you even take a compliment when a man offers you one?” he complains, tutting loudly. “Really, someone has got to teach you some manners, Geralt.”

“And I suppose that’ll be you?” Geralt shoots back dryly, grinning. He turns to take in the expression on Jaskier’s face, and huffs out a laugh at how incensed the bard looks.

His brow is furrowed, and his mouth is gaping open in offense. “You joke, Geralt, but I very well just might!”

“I’m sure,” Geralt snorts, amused, and turns back to his meal.

Jaskier “harrumphs!” loudly in response, but doesn’t otherwise say anything. He’s pouting, Geralt knows, but he’ll get over it in a minute or two. Geralt basks in the temporary silence, and chews quietly at his meal, half his mind turned back to the hunt already.

“You know, it really isn’t all that bad,” Jaskier says, breaking the silence and interrupting Geralt’s thoughts about which potions will be most effective against the monster.

“What isn’t?” Geralt mutters, shifting his attention back to Jaskier. He frowns, trying to work out what Jaskier is talking about.

“The fish,” Jaskier elaborates, humming. He sounds pleased and takes another bite, chewing thoughtfully. “Of course, it would be far better if we had some spices or you’d cooked it into a stew,” he muses, considering. “Though I assume you work with what you’ve got— ”

“Get on with it, Jaskier,” Geralt interrupts him, rolling his eyes at him.

“— but you’re actually a fairly good cook, when it comes right down to it,” he states, shrugging nonchalantly. Geralt narrows his eyes at him, not fooled by Jaskier’s casualness, and waits for Jaskeir to get to the point.

There’s a pause, wherein Jaskier chews slowly, and then, “Did you learn it on your own, or did someone teach you?” he inquires cooly, as if the answer doesn’t bother him at all.

The question is enough to cause Geralt to pause, and he rests his mostly finished meal on his lap as he processes it.

It’s not often that he talks about himself, or his upbringing — not with Jaskier, and not with anyone else — but Jaskier seems genuinely interested. The problem is, Geralt doesn’t know how to respond.

He’s let some things slip in the past. It’s hard not to, when he spends so much time with the bard. The finer details, though… he definitely hasn't gotten into, and this seems like the kind of mundane detail that no one else would care to ask, especially not from a witcher.

Geralt’s hesitation to answer seems to do nothing to ward off the bard’s questions. He takes another bite, chews it over thoughtfully, and glances up at Geralt.

“I can’t decide whether or not it’s the kind of thing that would have come up in your training,” Jaskier muses, humming softly. “It’s hard to imagine your teachers at Kaer Morhen interrupting monster lessons for a quick cooking lesson.”

Geralt lets out a surprised laugh. Jaskier tosses him a grin, clearly pleased with himself, and the tenseness he’d been holding in his shoulders — a tenseness that Geralt hadn’t immediately noticed — disappears.

“I mean, someone had to cook for you all, didn’t they?” Jaskier pushes, slowly wheedling his way closer to an answer. “I don’t buy into all that nonsense about Witchers being savages,” he comments derisively with a little snort.

Now that shocks Geralt, and he stops eating to stare incredulously at Jaskier, who’s too caught up in his own thought to notice the look.

“I mean look at you!” Jaskier continues, boldly, waving his hand at Geralt as if something about Geralt’s appearance helps to justify his point. “You’re the least savage man I’ve ever met!”

Geralt immediately snorts at the frankly ridiculous statement, but can’t help being astonished at the same time. Jaskier’s entire demeanor is indignant on Geralt’s behalf, as if he truly believes what he’s saying — as if he truly believes that there’s nothing savage about witchers, nothing savage about Geralt.

Jaskier keeps talking, preventing Geralt from being able to react.

“Fine, fine,” Jaskier concedes, tossing his head. “Maybe a little savage, but that’s hardly the point,” he says dryly with a snort of his own. “I’ve seen entire villages more savage than you,” he adds, and nods at Geralt with a look of shared understanding.

Geralt can only stare, because while he can definitely agree with Jaskier on that point, not a lot of people would.

They’ve known each other for years, and yet Geralt still finds himself startled every time Jaskier says something like this, as if he views Geralt as human when the rest of the world very much doesn’t.

Geralt feels very warm all of a sudden.

“Anyway, back to my point,” Jaskier says, a little flustered. His cheeks are a little red. “You hardly ever talk about Kaer Morhen, but when you do, oh ho ho, I dare say you sound rather fond,” Jaskier teases, waggling his eyebrows at Geralt.

“Bullshit,” Geralt responds abruptly, mainly because he isn’t sure what else to say. Witchers aren’t fond. They might not be as emotionless as the continent would like to believe, but they rarely form bonds, and the bonds of brotherhood forged through the trials would hardly leave someone with memories to be fond over. “No one is fond of Kaer Morhen.”

And yet, as Geralt turns and watches Jaskier roll his eyes knowingly, affectionately, he can’t help wondering if the bard might be right after all.

The long days at Kaer Morhen hadn’t all been bad. He’d had Eskel and Lambert with him, and no one could accuse them of being anything less than the worst of troublemakers.

Geralt’s lips tremble for a moment, the edge of a smile there. He hasn’t seen his brothers in a long time.

“Aha! See! There! Don’t think you can hide that from me, witcher!” Jaskier exclaims, laughing.

Geralt’s lips twitch harder, and Jaskier leans over to poke him in the side. “You know I’m right,” Jaskier sing-songs, grinning.

Geralt shakes his head, and finally laughs, because maybe Jaskier is right. Maybe Kaer Morhen wasn’t all bad, even if it wasn’t great, and there are still things to be fond over. Kaer Morhen gave him a family, after all.

For a moment, Jaskier just leaves the conversation there. He hums softly, pleased with himself, and finishes up his meal. Geralt follows suit, and before long, the two of them are tossing their cleaned bones into the fire.

Jaskier sighs, and leans back on the ground next to Geralt. Once he’s settled, he presses their thighs together companionably. “Come on, then Geralt,” he says softly, wheedling. “How’d you learn to cook, then?”

Geralt sighs heavily, but eventually murmurs, “Meriyan.” He doesn’t look at Jaskier, his mood sobering some, as he remembers home — falling from high places because he wasn’t yet used to his enhanced senses, the taste of forbidden fruit on his tongue… “When we’d get in trouble in the keep, they’d send us to her. Asked her to make use of us in the kitchens,” he explains.

Jaskier doesn’t interrupt him, instead listening intently. He doesn’t ask who “us” is, or what kind of trouble they’d get up to. He just listens.

“She taught us to cook,” Geralt repeats unnecessarily, swallowing roughly. It’s strange, thinking of Meriyan now, years later. “Useful skill, considering the job. They taught us to skin animals as part of our training, but…” Geralt trails off. He can’t find the words to say anything more, doesn’t feel there is anything else to say, and goes silent.

Jaskier seems to realize that Geralt is done talking, because he waits for a moment, hums softly, and presses his thigh tighter to Geralt's briefly, as if to reassure the witcher that he’s still there.

Geralt grunts, and goes to stand up — he’s got to settle Roach down for the night.

He doesn’t get very far before Jaskier’s hand finds his shoulder, effectively paralzying Geralt where he is. He turns his head, shocked, and finds that Jaskier, somehow, has moved even closer to him.

“Geralt,” Jaskier says, voice soft in the sudden quiet of the night.

“What,” Geralt grumbles, and it's barely a question.

Something soft sneaks into Jaskier’s expression, and he smiles.

“Thanks for cooking tonight,” he whispers. Geralt blinks, and suddenly Jaskier’s there, leaning in slowly, and pressing their lips together again. Geralt makes a muffled little sound, surprised at the gesture, and finds himself surprisingly disappointed when it doesn’t last long.

Rather, it’s just a moment, hardly any longer than the first time he’d been kissed. Jaskier’s lips are warm, just the same as Geralt remembers, only this time the bard tastes like fish and smoke. This time, it’s just that little bit more, enough so that Geralt can feel the exact way Jaskier’s lips move against his own — and then Jaskier is gone again, leaving nothing but his taste and the feeling of being understood behind.

The hand that had held Geralt so firmly in place only a moment ago lifts from his shoulder as Jaskier casually stands up and yawns loudly, as if the kiss hadn’t happened at all.

Geralt stares at the back of him, mouth tingling, but unable to respond.

“Well, good night, Geralt,” Jaskier hums, and moves to pull his bedroll from his bags, spreading it on the other side of the fire where he settles in for the night.

It happens again in Oxenfurt.

They’ve parted ways a lot in the decade they’ve traveled together. Sometimes it’s Jaskier choosing to stay behind at the nearest town to chase the skirts of pretty women, or — more likely — to take a temporary post as entertainer. Sometimes it’s Geralt, who gets called away on a dangerous mission that he doesn’t want Jaskier tagging along for, or — more probably still — when Geralt’s had too much time to think and realizes once again that Jaskier deserves a better life than this one.

This time, their separation is a combination of the two. Geralt is accompanying Jaskier to Oxenfurt at his request, where the bard is set to stay a few weeks as a guest lecturer. They’ve barely been in the town for twenty minutes when someone stops Geralt with a missive from Triss requesting his assistance.

It’s with some regret that Geralt sighs, and readies himself to turn back around and be on his leave.

“There’s no way I could convince you to stay for even one drink, is there?” Jaskier asks, sounding far more disappointed than Geralt had been expecting.” His gaze is downcast, and Geralt can see Jaskier biting his lip before those bright eyes find him again. “I was so looking forward to showing you around.”

“Hmm,” Geralt replies, and turns back to Roach. “Maybe next time,” he acquiesces gruffly.

There’s a part of him that’s disappointed as well, though he can’t name why, and he shakes it away with a roll of his shoulders, uncomfortable with the feeling.

He has responsibilities, and Triss is asking for his help. He can visit Oxenfurt with Jaskier another time.

Behind him, Jaskier sighs as Geralt adjusts his bags on Roach’s saddle and moves to sit astride her. As he settles the reins in his hands, and moves to turn Roach around, Jaskier approaches him.

He’s frowning, and he’s left his bags behind, with his lute propped up beside them. They’re just at the outskirts of the Academy, and Jaskier, for the first time, actually looks like he belongs somewhere. It’s a shock, therefore, that Jaskier looks so sad.

“Cheer up, bard,” Geralt grunts, eyes narrowing. “You have hot food and a bed to look forward to for the next few weeks,” he entices. “Much better than traveling with me,” he adds with a hint of a smile.

Geralt expects Jaskier to laugh at that, to joke back at him, but he doesn’t. He just continues to frown, and steps ever closer to Roach.

“I enjoy traveling with you,” Jaskier replies thickly, and his voice sounds different than it usually does, more serious, more… something. Geralt can’t quite put a name to the somber look Jaskier is giving him now, can’t figure out how to react to his words, isn’t sure what to make of them.

Whatever this is, it’s not the way Jaskier would usually respond.

Geralt doesn’t say anything, unsure what he’d even say to that. It doesn’t seem to matter. Jaskier doesn’t appear to be waiting for a response. Instead, he reaches up and cups his hand against Geralt’s cheek, pulling him down, down, down.

Suddenly, Geralt’s face is held close to Jaskier’s, close enough to be kissed.

Geralt isn’t sure what makes him allow it to happen, but in the next moment, Jaskier’s lips are pressed firmly to his, and he’s got Geralt’s bottom lip between his teeth, and he’s kissing Geralt, really kissing him this time, lips a soft, fervent pressure. It’s not chaste in the least, and it goes on far longer than any of the rest, long enough that Geralt has pulled himself together enough to respond. He doesn’t get a chance to, because then Jaskier lets him go.

Geralt’s head is spinning. He can feel a low simmering heat burn in his body, and it’s confusing, so confusing that all he can do is stare. All he can ever do is stare, after Jaskier kisses him.

The bard smiles, as if he hasn’t just turned Geralt’s world upside down for the third time, and lifts his hand in a little wave.

“Safe travels, Geralt,” he says, his voice just this side of hoarse.

Geralt blinks at him, nods, and turns away, leading Roach back down through the city and away from Jaskier, despite the fact that Geralt suddenly really, really does not want to go.

The next time it happens, they’ve barely been apart for a month.

They meet back up again in Dorian, where Geralt stops for the night after someone recognizes him as the “white wolf” the bard in town was singing about. It had been an assumption that the bard in question would be Jaskier, but Geralt knows he’s right as soon as he stables Roach at an inn nearby that smells like Jaskier.

Geralt can hear the bard’s voice before he enters, and despite himself, he smiles, the tiniest quirk of the lips. Jaskier is strumming his lute to a jaunty tune, dancing around the inn and making a right fool of himself. The patrons are enjoying it, if the clapping and singing along are anything to go by, and Geralt approaches the barman for a pint before finding a dark, back corner to sit in.

It takes a few songs for Jaskier to notice Geralt, but when he does, his entire being seems to brighten — even from across the room, Geralt can see the way Jaskier’s smile pulls a little wider, his eyes sparkle a little more. He finishes his tune with a lofty flourish, bows theatrically to his audience, and excuses himself for the night with a hefty weight of coin tucked into his pocket. He slides into a seat in front of Gerelt’s like he belongs there.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Jaskier says, grinning. The barmaid approaches with a pint for Jaskier, and Jaskier beams at her, thanking her profusely. Geralt inhales sharply, and realizes he can practically smell the alcohol in Jaskier’s sweat. It’s then that Geralt realizes Jaskier has clearly been abundantly plied with alcohol all night, and he seems to already be well on his way to drunk.

“How much have you had to drink, Jaskier?” Geralt asks, sighing exasperatedly. He doesn’t even bother to greet the bard, figuring it hardly matters.

Jaskier waggles his eyebrows at him. “Why, are you here to bespoil my honor?” he teases, his expression lewd as he takes a long drag from his pint. “Because if so, I’m definitely not too drunk to enjoy it.”

“Hmm,” Geralt hums dispassionately, studying the bard closely. He’s definitely loose limbed, his expression over the top, even for Jaskier. Geralt grinds his teeth a little and elects to ignore the bard's last comment, because he has no idea what to do with it. “You should take care of yourself,” he says, glancing away so that he doesn’t have to look at Jaskier.

Jaskier gasps, dramatic as ever. “Are you worried about me, Geralt of Rivia?” he asks, far louder than necessary. “Perhaps that someone else might despoil my honor?”

“It’s far too late for that,” Geralt grumbles, looking away, but he can feel his cheeks heating up nevertheless. Jaskier isn’t wrong — Geralt was worried about someone taking advantage of the bard, but that has more to do with the fact that Jaskier would go to bed with just about anyone, and the last thing Geralt wants is for someone to do something the bard wouldn’t want.

Jaskier lets out a bark of a laugh in response. He’s grinning, cheeks flushed prettily. “Oh Geralt, you do care,” he crows happily, and stands up, swaying a little. Geralt sees his eyes go a little cross eyed for a moment as he attempts to steady himself. His movements are still a little wobbly when he shifts around the table and abruptly sits in Geralt’s lap.

Geralt tenses immediately.

“Jaskier,” he says, reproachful, but Jaskier ignores him. He reaches up and wraps his arms around Geralt’s shoulders, dragging the witcher closer to him. Their faces are inches apart, and Geralt can definitely smell the alcohol wafting off his skin now. It’s almost repugnant, and Geralt furrows his nose.

“Jaskier,” he says again, but Jaskier cuts him off.

“Don’t worry, Geralt,” Jaskier teases in a sing song voice, “I’ve been waiting for you,” he croons.

Geralt doesn’t get the chance to question what the hell that means, because at that moment, Jaskier drags him in for a kiss, deeper by far than any of the rest.

Either the alcohol, or the excuse of alcohol, has loosened Jaskier’s tongue, and he bites past Geralt’s lips with very little resistance. His tongue is hot against Geralt’s own, and for the first time Geralt is getting first-hand experience of what Jaskier is really like when it comes to matters such as this.

He’s very good with his tongue, and he manages to drag a groan out of Geralt’s throat, as, unable to resist, Geralt kisses him back. He doesn’t have enough brain capacity left to question what the fuck is going on, because he’s too busy being shocked by the fact that he actually wants this, that he’d been waiting for the next time Jaskier would kiss him, wondering if it would feel the same every time as it had the first time — if it would keep feeling like something hot has unfurled in Geralt’s chest.

He doesn’t get very much longer to ponder the realization that it does, before Jaskier lets out a tiny sigh and pulls away.

Geralt blinks, brain a little fuzzy. He looks up to find that Jaskier is smiling at him.

“You look cute, like this,” Jaskier murmurs, and leans in for one last little peck to Geralt’s lips. He reaches up with calloused fingers to pat clumsily at Geralt’s cheek, the look on his face positively fond.

As abruptly as Jaskier had climbed into his lap, Jaskier climbs back off, and saunters back to the other side of the table where he plops down happily. His smile is loose and unconcerned as he grabs his pint for another long draw. It’s as if the kiss had never even happened, and Geralt has no idea what to do with that.

“Jaskier,” he says, desperate to just understand already, but then Jaskier turns back to face him with glassy eyes and a slightly-delayed hum of question, and Geralt realizes that now is really not the time.

Geralt doesn’t end up drinking very much, and after he’s had a hot meal, he carries a drunk Jaskier up to bed, and stays with him this time because Jaskier won’t let him go.

It starts happening more often after that —

There’s a kiss on the cheek the next time Geralt offers Jaskier a bowl of soup. A kiss on the hand as Jaskier gets up to perform for a tavern full of jovial townsfolk, eyes dark as he stares up at Geralt from under even darker eyelashes. A kiss on the top of the head, as Jaskier washes Geralt’s hair for the thousandth time. A kiss on the forehead, as Jaskier wipes blood away from his hairline with a tiny frown on his face. And once, a kiss on the nose in the middle of the afternoon, because Geralt had been staring off into space, and Jaskier, it seemed, had felt like it.

Geralt is baffled by the whole situation. He’s never been touched this affectionately in his life, and with every new kiss, Geralt realizes that he really, really does not want it to stop — only he can’t figure out how to make sure that it doesn’t.

He’s not even sure what started it.

Geralt knows that Jaskier is free with his affections. He’s a romantic, and he falls in love with everyone he meets, but it never lasts long, and he definitely isn’t shy about saying the words, so…

It shouldn’t be weird, only Jaskier has never been like this with him, so Geralt doesn’t understand what the fuck is going on.

Jaskier doesn’t seem to want anything more from Geralt, if recent events are anything to go by. He hasn’t made one single attempt to ask for more, and that alone is unusual for Jaskier, who’d fucked his way around the continent — only…

Wait a moment. He hasn’t done that recently.

Geralt’s brow furrows as he realizes this. He hasn’t seen Jaskier take someone to bed since before the banquet, all those months ago. He’d just assumed, at the time, that Jaskier had been trying to avoid stepping on any new toes, considering his growing reputation as a cad.

But then why had he kissed Geralt that night in Sodden? Why hadn’t he lept at the chance to have a dalliance or two with the girls of Oxenfurt, rather than bemoaning the fact that Geralt couldn’t stay? Why had he gone to bed with Geralt that night when he was drunk, even though there had been plenty of willing women sitting in that tavern plying him with alcohol all night?

And why, above all else, had Jaskier started kissing him in the first place, if it was clear he didn’t want anything more?

“And what, my dear witcher, has put that look on your face,” Jaskier asks, pulling Geralt out of his thoughts as he plops down on the bed next to him. The moment his body hits the bed, Jaskier falls backwards, and sighs blissfully into the cool sheets.

Geralt turns a little to stare down at him, watching the way Jaskier’s eyes flutter contentedly.

“Nothing,” Geralt grunts, and returns to unlacing his boots. Jaskier hums disbelievingly, but when Geralt glances at him again, his eyes are closed, and he looks to be satisfied with that answer.

They sit together companionably, Geralt lost in his thoughts once again, as he listens to Jaskier breathe quietly beside him. It’s a comforting sound, where it once might not have been. He can hear Jaskier’s heartbeat as well, a steady, reassuring thump, and he sighs softly.

Yeah, he definitely doesn’t want to lose this — whatever it is. Asking Jaskier what hell is going on though? Just doesn’t seem worth it, right now.

It all comes to a head one night in Ellander.

Geralt returns from a hunt with the head of a Golem, covered in rock and dust, but otherwise unscathed. He drops the trophy off with the Alderman, and with a purse full of coin, returns to the inn where he’d left Jaskier.

Jaskier is waiting for him at a table in the back. Geralt expects to see him composing his next ballad, perhaps with a bowl of hot stew waiting for Geralt, but instead he finds the bard chatting with an old friend of Geralt’s. Or at least, she’s chatting with Jaskier.

“Triss?” Geratl calls, surprised.

The curly haired sorceress turns a sunny smile onto him at the sound of her name, and stands to greet him.

“Geralt,” she replies, voice honeytoned. She moves to embrace him, but changes her mind at the last minute, noting that Geralt is covered in dirt. “Ever the mess, I see,” she teases with a small laugh. “Come, sit with us!” she says, beckoning him to the table where a bowl of stew does, in fact, wait for him.

Geralt follows her, but his gaze immediately finds Jaskier’s. Jaskier’s expression is unreadable, something Geralt is entirely unused to, and he doesn’t appear to have been much engaged in his conversation with Triss.

Geralt can’t think of anything they have in common, but Jaskier is good at charming people — good at conversation in general — so Geralt can’t imagine any reason the bard would be so subdued. He hasn’t even greeted Geralt, or demanded details of his hunt the way he usually would.

Geralt furrows his brow as he sits down, and eyes Jaskier questioningly. Jaskier doesn’t respond. His expression doesn’t so much as shift, and that, above all else, worries Geralt. What could Triss have possibly said to render Jaskier mute and emotionless like this?

“What are you doing here?” Geralt asks bluntly, turning his attention back to Triss. “Has something happened?” he asks shrewdly, narrowing his eyes at her.

Triss laughs. “What, I can’t just be here to visit an old friend?” she inquires, expression lighthearted.

Geralt glares at her. “You just saw me,” he states in a no nonsense tone.

“But that was under different circumstances,” Triss argues playfully, tossing her hair over her shoulder, Geralt’s glare not affecting her. “Come, Geralt, surely you’re pleased to see me,” she teases, flashing him a sunny smile.

And it’s not that Geralt isn’t pleased to see her, it's more that no one ever really seeks him out unless they need something from him. The only exception is Jaskier, and even then he claims to be along for the adventure. Jaskier is probably one of the only people who can tolerate spending an extended period of time with Geralt, and Geralt doesn’t even know how he manages that much.

For Triss to be here… is just odd. But for Jaskier to appear displeased about it… that’s even odder.

“Hmm,” Geralt replies tonelessly, instead of answering. It doesn't appear he’s going to get a straight answer out of her, so he turns to his stew and begins to eat.

“I see you’re as talkative as ever,” Triss comments wryly, and goes to exchange a knowing grin with Jaskier. Jaskier isn’t smiling, though. Instead, when Geralt turns to look at him, he finds Jaskier practically glaring at the sorceress, and he’s not even trying to hide it.

Geralt’s brow furrows again as he stares at Jaskier.

What the fuck did he miss?

“Well,” Triss says, clearing her throat and looking away. She attempts to share a look of utter bewilderment with Geralt, which Geralt does not reciprocate, and continues on. “Anyway, Geralt. I was just speaking with your bard here,” she explains, nodding her head at Jaskier, but avoiding looking his way again. “And he said you might not be back for hours. What was it you were hunting?” she asks, and she leans in close, attentive, and just waits.

Haltingly, Geralt tells her about the Golem. He can’t help the suspicion he feels, especially considering the lack of commentary coming from Jaskier, but he answers Triss nonetheless. She is one of his oldest friends, and while he might not fully trust her, he can assume her intentions are good.

As Geralt talks, Triss stares at him, her smile coquettish. Geralt, for his part, keeps glancing at Jaskier, who he knows would normally be jotting down every last detail he can wring from Geralt for a song, only this time, he isn’t writing anything.

In fact, he spends the entire night glaring at Triss, hardly saying a word other than a huff or a mirthless laugh, even as their conversation turns far away from the Golem and into gossip, which Jaskier usually loves to partake in. Triss has news of the courts, which Geralt could give less of a shit about, but which Jaskier usually laps up.

Geralt stares suspiciously at Jaskier the majority of the time, grunting in acknowledgement to Triss’ words, and otherwise finishing his stew and turning to his ale. Eventually, Triss moves on to tales of uprisings in the north, which is only marginally more interesting to Geralt.

Triss doesn’t seem to take it very seriously herself, and she teases Geralt about how they’ve both been alive long enough to see kings rise and fall too many times to be much surprised — or worried — about anything.

This comment, however, seems to grab Jaskier’s attention, because for the first time all night he snorts derisively, and tosses his head in outright annoyance.

Geralt stares at him, perturbed. He’s never seen Jaskier be quite so rude to a lady, nor has he ever known Jaskier to be so quiet in all the time he’s known him. Triss chooses to ignore the reaction completely, as if Jaskier wasn’t even there, and continues on.

“Ah, well,” Triss says, yawning quietly after a few hours of talking. “I best be off to bed,” she adds, standing, never once having given away what she could possibly have said to bother Jaskier so much. “I’ve got a long journey in the morning, but thanks ever so much for your company tonight, Geralt.” She smiles sweetly. “Jaskier,” she adds after a beat, seemingly reluctant to include it at all, and offers the bard a bland smile that he does not reciprocate.

Geralt nods in response, a part of him relieved to have this night over with, and stands automatically to bid Triss farewell. He immediately regrets it. He doesn’t actually know what he’d been planning to do, and now Triss is staring at him… well, expectantly. Geralt is surprised to see a soft flush fill her cheeks.

“Unless,” Triss says quietly, stepping in close to Geralt, “You’d care to join me?” she whispers, and runs a soft palm down Geralt’s dust covered arm.

That seems to be the last straw for Jaskier. With a loud scraping of his stool against the ground, Jaskier stands and grabs Geralt’s bicep with tight fingers, tearing him away from Triss.

Triss blinks in shock, and Geralt turns a baffled expression onto Jaskier that Jaskier ignores.

“I’m afraid not tonight, my lady,” Jaskier answers for Geralt, grinning a sharp smile. “We also have a long journey ahead of us in the morning, and Geralt still hasn’t had his bath. Perhaps next time,” he adds derisively, as if he doesn’t mean it — as if he doesn’t plan to let Geralt anywhere near Triss again.

Geralt’s heart clenches tight, and he turns a shocked look onto Jaskier, opening his mouth in preparation to say something — only Geralt can’t find any words.

Jaskier takes advantage of Geralt’s silence to clutch even harder at his bicep and pull, yanking him away from the situation and from Triss. He tosses a few coin onto the table as they go, and despite the fact Geralt is stronger than Jaskier, despite the fact he could throw Jaskier around like a rag doll, Geralt allows it to happen, because it’s Jaskier.

Jaskier had already gotten them a room earlier that day, and he heads up the stairs and straight into it without pause. Geralt catches sight of a bath gone long cold, but he dismisses it quickly, turning his attention onto Jaskier.

“Jaskier,” Geralt growls, once Jaskier has slammed the door closed behind them and Geralt has gotten over his shock. “What the hell—” Geralt starts, but Jaskier cuts him off, not even allowing him to finish his question.

With all of his strength, Jaskier presses his hands into Geralt’s hips, and shoves him up against the door, holding him there with the press of his own body flush against Geralt’s.

Geralt inhales sharply, and frowns at Jaskier, whose face is far closer to Geralt’s than he’d anticipated. He forgets, sometimes, how close in height they are. Before Geralt can even begin to make sense of his confusion, Jaskier leans the rest of the way in, and kisses him.

This time… this time is different. They haven’t properly kissed since that night in the bar when Jaskier had been drunk. There have been kisses in between, sure, but those had been more born from affection than desire. This kiss, though. This kiss is nothing but desire, and it shakes Geralt to his core.

He feels himself light up and groans at Jaskier’s touch, at the way the bard licks into his mouth and twines their tongues together. His hands are hot against Geralt’s hips, a brand as he pushes against him, pinning him in place.

Geralt reaches up and cups the back of Jaskier’s neck, drawing him in closer. He lets Jaskier bite at his lips, lets him flick their tongues together, lets him take everything Geralt has to offer, and just breathes it in. His fingers thread through Jaskier’s hair and he pulls a little, listens to the little mewl Jaskier lets out, and finds himself desperate for more.

Geralt wants to keep kissing Jaskier, he does, but he wants to know what the hell is going on even more, so before he can completely lose himself in the feeling of Jaskier’s lips against his, Geralt releases Jaskier’s hair, and shoves him away.

Jaskier stumbles, and when Geralt looks up, he finds that Jaskier is staring at him in bewilderment, mouth kiss-bruised and breath heavy.

“Geralt, what?” Jaskier asks, clearly lost.

Geralt’s hands twist into fists at his sides, because what the hell does Jaskier have to be confused about? He’s the one who's been kissing Geralt without explanation, the one who's been driving Geralt crazy with every kiss, every touch, and he just can’t take it anymore. He needs to know why. Geralt grinds his teeth together loudly.

“What the fuck, Jaskier?” he growls, allowing all the frustration from the last few months to pour into his voice. He’s sick of not knowing, sick of Jaskier teasing him like this, sick of Jaskier kissing him when Geralt can’t be sure of what his intentions are.

Geralt can feel himself thrumming with energy, and he wants nothing more than to have Jaskier pressed back up against him, kissing him, touching him, but he can’t. He can’t fucking stand it anymore. Not without knowing.

“What?” Jaskier asks again, brow furrowed. “What’s going on, Geralt, why—” he tries, but Geralt doesn’t care if Jaskier has questions, because Geralt has a thousand more, and he’s damn well been waiting longer than Jaskier has been.

“Why do you keep kissing me!?” Geralt demands, squeezing his fingers tighter against his skin, and watches as Jaskier stares at him in confusion, clearly uncomprehending of what Geralt is asking.

It takes another moment of Geralt breathing heavily, hands clenched into fists at his sides, before Jaskier appears to freeze, gawking at Geralt in shock.

“Oh,” Jaskier says, astonished, and takes a short step back. “Oh wow,” he says, laughing breathlessly as he shakes his head. “Wow, Geralt, I thought…”

But whatever he’d thought, he doesn’t say. Instead, he just stares up with dancing eyes, that same knowing look on his face from months ago.

Geralt grits his teeth.

“What the fuck are you smiling about?” Geralt barks, glaring sharply at Jaskier, whose lips are turned up in a grin. “And what the fuck was that back there, with Triss?” he adds, because he doesn’t understand that either. “I don’t understand what’s going on with you, Jaskier. You’ve been a right prick for the last few months.”

Jaskier laughs, the sound warm, despite the tenseness in the room. The intensity that had seemed to be simmering in Jaskier earlier is suddenly gone, the passion from the kiss moments ago replaced now with something softer, something...sweet? Jaskier is staring at Geralt with something close to adoration, and Jaskier steps closer to him again.

Geralt doesn’t fight it when Jaskier reaches up and cups his cheek, patting it softly.

“You’re an idiot, Geralt of Rivia,” Jaskier whispers.

Geralt inhales sharply, stung, and goes to pull away, but Jaskier just holds him tighter and pulls Geralt in to press a kiss against his ear. His hot breath against Geralt’s skin makes him shudder, and his eyes close involuntarily.

“Jaskier,” he hisses, trying so hard to hold onto that feeling of irritation, of unknowing, that’s been plaguing him for months.

“Sh,” Jaskier hums, encouraging. There’s something light in his voice, as if he’s smiling, but Geralt can’t move to see it. He’s frozen, hushed, as if Jaskeir has cast a spell on him. “You want to know why I keep kissing you?” he whispers, the sound of his words vibrating through Geralt, right down to his core.

Geralt nods, mute.

He feels more than hears Jaskier chuckle, a rush of something going up his spine. “Let me know when you figure it out,” Jaskier breathes against the shell of his ear, his lips a whisper against skin.

The look on Jaskier’s face when he pulls away is patient, but full of hunger, his eyes dark with want. It’s an expression Geralt can’t seem to parse. He finds that he’s frozen, as Jaskier lets his arms drop from where he’d had them pressed against the small of Geralt’s back, and he steps away, steps around Geralt, and walks out of the room, leaving Geralt wanting, confused, and alone.

Jaskier doesn’t come back that night.

Geralt reheats the bath water with a quick Igni after Jaskier leaves, and washes himself mechanically, his mind focused on Jaskier’s words. He can still feel Jaskier’s breath against his ear, still feel the warmth of Jaskier’s body, and the press of Jaskier’s lips against his. It muddles his mind, makes it difficult to think, and it pisses him off to no end.

He’d just wanted answers. Tonight had been the last straw, with the way Jaskier had been acting with Triss, the way he’d dragged Geralt away from her as if he had any say in who Geralt spent the night with, the way he’d kissed Geralt, again, and had the gall, afterward, to look at Geralt as if he should already know why he’d done it — had been doing it for months.

He doesn’t fucking know, and he’s sick of it. He’s sick of the knowing looks, the tenderness with which Jaskier has started to touch him, the desperate longing Geralt feels to have Jaskier touch him again. He’s sick of not knowing where he stands, or what’s going on, or the fact that he can’t, has never been able to, get a grasp on who Jaskier is to him.

He hadn’t wanted tonight’s kiss to end. He hadn’t wanted any of the kisses to end, and it feels like such a tease that Jaskier keeps doing it, as if he doesn’t understand the way he’s making Geralt feel.

Geralt smacks his fists against the water, and climbs out of the bath.

The next morning, Geralt makes his way into the tavern alone. He settles down for a quick breakfast, expecting Jaskier to join him soon. They don’t have an early morning as Jaskier had suggested last night, but they should get a move on if they want to make any progress before dark, and Geralt is confident Jaskier knows this.

He doesn’t for one second entertain the idea that Jaskier would have moved on without him. He isn’t sure he could handle that thought right now.

It isn’t Jaskier who joins him that morning, though. It’s Triss.

“Geralt,” Triss greets as she settles down at the table with him, her bag at her side. “Fancy meeting you here,” she says, grinning. She’s got an apple in her hands, and she’s wearing her traveling cloak already. It’s clear she’s on her way out.

Geralt grunts in response, and turns back to his own breakfast: a roll of bread and some sweet meats. He’s picking at it mostly. If the bard were here, Geralt knows it would be almost gone by now, Jaskier snagging bits and pieces here and there while Geralt is distracted.

He’d never admit to the bard that he lets him pick off his plate.

Triss bites into her apple with a small hum, and when Geralt glances back at her, he can see her smirking.

“What’s bothering you this morning, dear friend?” she asks, amused. “Surely you had a good night with your bard.”

Geralt huffs in annoyance. “He’s not my bard,” he snaps immediately.

“Could have fooled me,” Triss replies, rolling her eyes. “The way he whisked you away last night…” She pauses and shakes her head, laughing. “I finally understood why he kept glaring at me, at least,” she muses happily. “Ah well, he beat me to it,” she says, sighing regretfully.

Geralt’s eyes snap to hers immediately, and he forgets all about his meal. He has no idea what Triss could possibly mean, but she seems to think she understands something about what’s going on with Jaskier — at least more so than Geralt. Maybe she can give Geralt some sort of insight into what she’d done last night to rile Jaskier up in the first place. “What are you talking about?” he demands.

Triss gives him a funny look, apparently caught off guard by Geralt’s hostile reaction.

“Geralt, I’m not stupid,” she insists, insulted. “I came here last night for a quick tryst. You might be too dense to notice when a woman is flirting with you, but your bard is not,” she scoffs, and flicks her hand dismissively.

Geralt bares his teeth, frustrated. What the fuck does that even mean? “I said he’s not my bard,” he growls impatiently, waving the very notion away. “And if all you're going to do is speak in riddles, I’d rather you be on your way,” he adds curtly, and glares at her, arms crossed over his chest.

Triss glares back, clearly affronted. “There’s no reason to be like that, Geralt,” she states calmly, and draws her shawl around herself primly. “I’m just pointing out the obvious. It’s clear to anyone who bothers to look that your bard is deeply enamoured with you.” She huffs indignantly, and moves to slip her coin purse away. “And you with him,” she adds decisively.

That shocks him, so deeply that all Geralt can do is gawk at her, astonished. His witcher slow heart rate picks up.

“What,” he asks quietly, “the fuck are you talking about.” He stares, eyes boring into Triss’. He can’t even begin to fathom why Triss would say such a thing. That… can’t be right. “What exactly do you think is going on here, Triss?” he demands after a minute.

Triss blinks back at him for a moment, bewildered, and then her expression seems to clear. Her eyes widen, and she smiles, reaching up to cover a laugh. Geralt grinds his teeth at her, offended.

“Triss!” he growls.

“Oh my gods, Geralt, how do you not know?” she asks, laughing out right now. ”You daft bastard,” she adds, near hysterical. “I wish I could say I can’t believe you, but I suppose I shouldn’t even be surprised. You’ve always been blind when it comes to matters such as this.”

“Damnit, Triss,” Geralt curses, “Just tell me what’s going on!” he half shouts, breathing a little heavy. He can feel something burning at the back of his mind, taste the knowledge he’s asking for on the tip of his tongue, but he can’t reach it. It’s there, and for the first time he realizes he knows, he’s always known, but he just can’t — he just can’t grasp hold of it.

“Please,” he begs Triss, eyes wild with it.

Triss stops laughing to stare at him tenderly, and cocks her head. “You’re in love with him, Geralt,” Triss explains simply, “and he with you.”

The world grinds to a halt as the knowledge slams into him.

He’s known. He’s always known. The bitter taste on his tongue when Jaskier runs off with a lover suddenly makes sense for what it is — jealousy. The warmth blooming inside him with each new kiss is happiness. The anger that has been simmering just under the surface for so long is actually a broken sort of hope that Geralt hasn’t been able to allow himself to feel.

The strange burning feeling in the pit of his stomach when he looks at Jaskier has always been love... Geralt just hasn’t wanted to admit it.

Geralt lets out a sharp breath, and shakes his head.

Suddenly, it all makes sense — the kisses, the affection. It’s all just Jaskier’s way of saying yes to the question Geralt hadn’t known he’d been asking. Geralt had always made fun of Jaskier for wearing his heart on his sleeve, but Jaskier has known Geralt’s heart for far longer than Geralt has known his own.

And now he’s just waiting for Geralt to catch up.

“Fuck,” Geralt mutters.

“Geralt,” Triss murmurs, grabbing hold of his attention with a soft look of exasperation on her face. She reaches out to take one of his hands, and holds on tight. “You are worthy of love, you know,” she says simply, like she believes it… like it’s true.

For a while, the shocking revelation makes it difficult to think. Geralt leaves Triss in the tavern to head back up to his room and pack his things. He pulls on his armor numbly, stares at Jaskier’s rucksack where he’d left it behind last night, and heads down to the stables.

He doesn’t know where Jaskier is, but it’s fine. Geralt needs a moment alone anyway, some time to process the fact that he’d spent the last decade hiding from his own feelings.

Geralt wonders how long Jaskier has known.

Roach is a comforting presence when Geralt enters her stall, bumping her head into his chest companionably. He pats at her neck in greeting. “Hello, Roach,” he murmurs, and drops his bags in the corner.

He brushes her down to prepare her for the day’s ride, and it helps to relax him, to calm his thoughts, until all he’s left with is a slow rolling happiness that burns deep in his gut. He finds that he’s anxious to see Jaskier again, that he actually wants what the bard is offering — that he’s tired of pretending the desire doesn’t exist.

He’s feeding Roach oats by the time Jaskier finds him, and at the sound of his voice, Geralt turns slowly.

“Morning, Geralt,” Jaskier greets him brightly, eyes twinkling. It takes a moment for Geralt to place the look, but when he does he realizes that it’s the same look Jaskier always gives him, only now Geralt can recognize it for what it is — love.

Geralt’s lips quirk slightly, and Jaskier mirrors this, though he looks a little confused.

“You alright?” he asks, taking a cautious step forward. “You look a little…” Jaskier doesn’t finish the sentence, instead waving at Geralt nonsensically.

He’s got his rucksack slung over one shoulder, and his lute case hung over the other. He’s dressed in finery, the same he always is, but his boots are the ones Geralt picked out for him years ago, suitable for traveling. His doublet, at the very least, looks warmer than usual, perfect for the chill that has started to pierce the air.

It occurs to Geralt then that he has spent a lot of time leaving Jaskier behind in some misguided assumption that Jaskier deserves a better life than the one Geralt leads, but as he looks at Jaskier now, and realizes that Jasker has spent the last decade following him willingly, always ready in the morning to be on the road, he decides that maybe Jaskier doesn’t deserve better, because this is what Jaskier chose.

“Jaskier,” Geralt says, ignoring the bard’s unfinished question.

Jaskier tilts his head at him. “Yes, Geralt?” he asks, clearly confused.

“Come here,” Geralt urges, and doesn’t wait for Jaskier to move towards him. This time, Geralt moves towards Jaskier, and he cups Jaskier’s cheeks in his hands, and he kisses him. Their noses brush softly as Geralt urges Jaskier’s mouth open, slow and sweet like liquid heat. Jaskier makes a soft noise into Geralt’s mouth, and reaches out to grab hold of Geralt’s tunic, anchoring himself in place.

Geralt’s hand shifts to press against the back of Jaskier’s skull, and he holds on tight. The warm feeling in his chest is growing outward, consuming him in a way Geralt hadn’t let it do before. Triss was right, Jaskier was right… Geralt had loved him for a long time.

He sighs when he eventually pulls back, pressing his forehead lightly to Jaskier’s. His eyes are still closed when Jaskier reaches up to run gentle fingers softly through his hair.

“Figured it out at last, did you?” he teases tenderly. Geralt huffs a quiet laugh, and pulls back from Jaskier just far enough to stare into his eyes.

“Yeah,” he agrees, and kisses Jaskier again. “I figured it out.”

#geraskier #geraskier fanfic #geralt x jaskier #witcher fanfic #geralt of rivia #jaskier #my fanfic

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wordsablaze · 5 years ago

Text

1~ i see your pain

tell me your problems (i’ll chase them away) Internal scars can be difficult to deal with but Eskel vows to heal any that Jaskier is weighed down by if it's the last thing he does…

A/N: accidentally sank into jaskel and whipped this up at like 3am so here we go... titles from monsters by timeflies

Eskel is familiar with physical scars.

How could he not be, with them making up half his face?

He'd had to become familiar with them whilst training, growing up, travelling the path, trying to survive.

Countless cuts and scratches and bites had led to countless scars, scars that he barely even pays attention to anymore because he'd become so used to them.

But that was just physical scars.

Obvious, external reminders of battles and people and memories he often wishes he could forget.

He can turn away from his reflection and keep his hands away from his skin and avoid the gaze of judgemental townsfolk and sometimes, it's almost as if he can't see his scars anymore.

Unfortunately, not all scars are physical.

Some are deeper, etched into hearts rather than flesh, invisible to most and impossible to forget.

Well, not so impossible if Eskel has anything to say about it.

To be fair, he usually doesn't.

But for Jaskier?

He makes an exception for Jaskier from the very moment their paths cross…

---

Eskel groans internally as the innkeeper's nose wrinkles up in disgust.

It's the third time he's done that during their conversation and he's rather tired of it.

He knows he's covered in innards, thank you very much, but he isn't going to do anything about it until he gets his coin. Being refused payment is nothing new but he needs it this time, the cursed beast had ruined his armour.

"Must you be so-" the innkeeper starts, clearly about to insult him.

But he's interrupted by someone slinging an arm around his shoulders.

It's been an age since anyone has done anything of the sort and he's equally as confused as he is annoyed. He might also be a little bit relieved but he'd never admit how nice it feels, not even to himself.

So he tenses, fighting every impulse in his body that screams at him to throw the stranger off.

"Gorgeous? Why yes, he must," the stranger interjects, and suddenly he's not so much of a stranger anymore.

Eskel doesn't frequent public places often and he rarely pays attention to bards but he'd recognise that voice anywhere.

"And since this lovely witcher has just done your town a favour, it's in your best interest not to insult him."

And even if he didn't, there's only one human who's known to have a habit of defending witchers.

Jaskier spares him a sideways wink before staring pointedly at the innkeeper, who looks just as confused as Eskel feels.

He's not sure if that's because Jaskier had appeared out of nowhere or because he'd just been referred to as both gorgeous and lovely, but either way, he finds he doesn't know what to do.

"Now, do be a dear and run the poor darling a warm bath, will you? I know you have no rooms left so you can have it sent to mine. That is, unless you wish for me to stop playing?"

Jaskier raises an eyebrow and Eskel can't help but smirk, recognising the look of defeat on the innkeeper.

"No, I- Of course. It'll be ready when you finish for the night."

The man disappears immediately and Eskel finally turns to Jaskier. "You're his bard."

If Jaskier didn't have an arm looped around his shoulders, Eskel wouldn't have noticed the flinch.

But mischievous blue eyes distract him before he can question it. "I was. But right now, I'm just the bard ordering you to go sit and brood in the corner and enjoy my performance."

Eskel's frown only deepens. "And if I say no?"

Jaskier removes his arm from Eskel's shoulder and places his hands on his hips, both accusation and amusement dancing in his eyes. "You will not do that because I absolutely refuse to waste a perfectly good bath."

"You could just use it," Eskel points out.

It's a wasted argument, they can both smell the strong floral scents on Jaskier that suggest he's recently had his own bath.

Rolling his eyes, Jaskier takes Eskel's arm and pulls him to the corner of the room, firmly guiding him into sitting down and sliding a drink towards him.

"Drink up, darling, it's been made extra strong to suit your witcher-y needs."

As Eskel wonders how Jaskier could have known he was going to stay, the bard slips away and turns his attention to the crowd.

Or rather, turns the crowd's attention to him.

Apparently, Geralt had severely understated Jaskier's abilities as a bard.

He's in charge of the room as soon as he starts playing his lute, filling the place with an energy Eskel has only ever felt on hunts, making sure all eyes are on him as he travels from table to table.

Eskel feels the faintest sting of bitter confusion when Jaskier refuses to even glance in his direction, knowing that Geralt had commented on the bard's habit of drawing attention to him during performances. He can't help but wonder if it's because he's not as good as Geralt, if he's not as appealing to look towards in the middle of a song.

But when a man starts muttering darkly about witchers and Jaskier slyly spills ale all over his lap, Eskel realises it's just part of his plan.

Jaskier is making sure all the attention is on himself rather than on Eskel, as if he can tell how uncomfortable the witcher feels.

It's difficult to fathom why someone who might not even know his name would go to such lengths for him with no hesitation. But really, can he be surprised when this is the bard who'd changed the fate of witchers?

He just can't figure out why Geralt isn't also here or why Jaskier claims to no longer be his bard, especially since they've all heard the plethora of songs about a white wolf.

When everyone is satisfied and people have started leaving tips and drifting back to their rooms, Jaskier announces his departure and all but falls onto Eskel.

He's breathing heavily but there's a wide grin on his face as he sees the empty mug on the table.

"You drank it!" he says rather obviously.

Eskel nods. "It was good."

And he's not lying. It really had tasted good, much better than most drinks he's been served.

Jaskier grins smugly. "I know, it's my recipe."

Eskel blinks.

"But you, however gorgeous you may be, smell absolutely appalling. I believe you promised me a bath?"

He could theoretically snap the bard in two but he finds himself unable to refuse as Jaskier steers him through the remaining crowd.

They stop in front of the innkeeper, who sighs when he notices them.

"Your bath awaits, bard."

Jaskier nods but doesn't move, raising an eyebrow. "I think you owe my friend here some payment, do you not?"

Eskel glances at Jaskier in confusion, wondering if he'd heard correctly. Why would he so recklessly associate himself with Eskel despite having just met him?

The innkeeper seems to know better than to argue this time, simply handing over a pouch and waving a hand. "A little more than promised as a token of... apology."

Jaskier beams at the man. "I knew you were a good soul! We'll see about earning you more coin with another performance in the morning…"

And with that promise, he takes the coin and guides them both upstairs.

Eskel takes a moment to appreciate the way Jaskier can take full control of a situation so effortlessly before realising he's also victim to one of those situations.

"My horse-"

"I took care of it," Jaskier interrupts, pulling him inside a room and shoving him towards the bath.

"You did?" Eskel asks, frowning yet again.

Jaskier scoffs. "Do stop worrying your facial muscles, daring, of course I did. I know how witchers work."

Eskel chooses not to reply to that, simply staring at the bath that he still can't believe was brought up for him. By an innkeeper who'd apologised for his words.

He can't help but wonder if he's being referred to by terms of endearment because Jaskier doesn't know what else to refer to him by or if he's just like that with everyone. Geralt had complained that the bard could be overwhelming so the latter seems likely.

Jaskier bites his lip. "Do you… Do you need me to leave?"

He sounds so unsure of himself, so unlike how he'd been a mere minute ago, that Eskel finds himself shaking his head before he can consider his options.

"It's your room, I couldn't kick you out of it," he says slowly.

Jaskier beams at him. "I'll stay out of your hair, though, I promise. Just make sure you don't smell like the insides of a monster when you're done."

Eskel nods as Jaskier places the coin pouch on the small bedside desk before settling on the bed and starting to scribble something.

Within minutes, Eskel has slipped out of his armour and into the warm water - it shouldn't still be so warm after so long, not unless someone had been told to make it extra hot specifically for a witcher - and his eyes have started to close at how good it feels in comparison to cold rivers.

It's nice, truly nice, and he lets himself forget about the rest of the world as his muscles slowly begin to relax.

He only remembers to move when he hears a pointed cough.

His eyes shooting open, water splashes as he sits upright to see Jaskier leaning forwards and smirking at him, but not unkindly.

"I know I said I'd stay out of your hair but how long do you plan to keep all that foul-smelling stuff in there?"

Eskel is still trying to process how he'd started to let his guard down in the presence of a relative stranger when he realises he'd literally forgotten to actually bathe.

Jaskier doesn't seem to be laughing at him though. If anything, he looks a little sad.

"They're not too bad," Eskel says eventually, resisting the urge to smile when Jaskier gasps dramatically.

"Excuse me? You're in the same room as my beautiful oils and salts and you dare to suggest that innards smell better? I should think not!"

And somehow, Jaskier is beside the bath within the blink of an eye, all but glaring down at him. "Now, you're going to sit still while I take care of that beautiful hair of yours, understood?"

Amused, Eskel just nods.

He's no longer amused when Jaskier gets to work though, he doesn't have time to be amused when he's too busy being pleasantly shocked.

Jaskier's fingers make their way through his hair in the same way they play his lute: softly and gently but also firmly, expertly, as if he's done so a million times before.

No wonder Geralt's hair had always looked surprisingly good.

"All done," Jaskier whispers after what feels like an eternity.

Eskel opens his eyes and forces himself not to groan at the loss of Jaskier's touch - it would be ridiculous to miss something he's only felt once.

"Thank you," he whispers back, not wanting Jaskier to regret helping him.

To his surprise, Jaskier blinks as if he'd never been thanked before. There's a flicker of confusion in his eyes before he recovers and stands with a soft smile. "It's truly my pleasure, darling."

Eskel frowns at the repeated term, wondering once again why Jaskier throws such affection so freely, so thoughtlessly.

"Will you be staying the night?" Jaskier's question pulls him out of his thoughts.

Oh.

Is he meant to stay?

Would it be rude to use both someone's bath and room or is he meant to provide company to return the favour?

Jaskier chuckles. "Don't think so hard, you'll get wrinkles. You're welcome to stay if you wish but I won't be so selfish as to demand it."

He knows he probably shouldn't but there's something so sad about Jaskier expecting nothing in return for his deeds - mostly because he can see the mindset of a witcher in that logic - that he offers the bard a smile.

"I owe you for the bath. Do you wish for me to stay?"

Jaskier looks at him in bewilderment before his eyes light up and he grins widely enough for it to look painful. "Would you? Witchers are just so warm and the nights can be dreadfully cold…"

Eskel pauses, glancing between Jaskier and the bed, the one bed, to make sure he's interpreting the request correctly.

"You want me to… share the bed with you?"

Jaskier bites his lip, seemingly regretting his words.

His hands fidget as he shakes his head and looks away, moving his things to the floor. "No, no, sorry, I can't ask- It would be unfair of me to make you do anything you're not comfortable with."

Comfort is rare for Eskel and despite the bard's reputation, he's beginning to think it is for Jaskier too.

"I didn't bring my bedroll," Eskel says casually.

After a slight pause, Jaskier frowns at him, a small smile then gracing his face once more. "Well then, you'll just have to share the bed with me. It wouldn't do to stiffen up those stunning muscles, now, would it?"

Glad that Jaskier is no longer wallowing in the bitter scent of regret, Eskel finally lifts himself out of the bath.

Jaskier's eyes widen and his breath hitches before he practically dives under the bed.

He reappears before Eskel can express any concern, holding out a small pile of clothes, his gaze fixed on the floor. "I, uh… your clothes need washing but you can use these for now."

"Why do you have them?"

Jaskier shrugs. "Might have rescued them from a man who was letting them collect dust…"

Eskel wonders what the rest of that story is but he'd rather not make Jaskier uncomfortable by inquiring so he simply takes the clothes and slips them on.

Once he's done, Jaskier smiles, having settled under the blanket. "Are you going to join me or simply admire those clothes all night?"

Eskel snorts but slips under the blanket, unsure of how close Jaskier wants him to be. He doesn't know exactly what Jaskier was like with Geralt and even if he did, there's no guarantee it'd be the same with him.

But Jaskier is having none of his hesitation and turns so he can curl himself towards Eskel.

"Is this okay?" Jaskier breathes.

Eskel shivers ever so slightly. He moves closer instead of audibly replying, relieved when Jaskier gets the message and smiles, closing the remaining gap between them.

He honestly doesn't know if he has the right to be doing this. If someone like him, just another witcher, has the right to this kind of intimacy.

"Goodnight, Eskel."

Oh.

Jaskier does know his name.

He knows exactly who he is and he'd not only let but invited him stay anyway.

With a smile that he'd never confess to, Eskel waits until the bard is asleep before taking the time to appreciate everything about the sheer, unadulterated kindness of the moment.

He doesn't even notice himself drift off.

---

A life filled with affection had never seemed likely for Eskel but Jaskier makes it seem tangible.

He's willing to give his love to Eskel and Eskel's scars without a second thought so it would be wrong not to ensure the favour is returned.

It's really quite logical that he helps Jaskier overcome the problems he can't even tell he's dragging around.

And it's definitely just because he owes the bard for improving his reputation and getting him his coin, not because something in his chest burns at the thought of the bard's wounds never being allowed to fade.

His own scars will never disappear but he vows to heal whatever scars Jaskier doesn't know he has, no matter how long it takes.

It's only fair, after all.

okay so i have a vague plan but also have other witcher WIPs so we’ll see where this goes... i do love this ship tho !!

thanks for reading! witcher sideblog: @geraskifer | masterlist | next chapter

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belettewrites · 4 years ago

Text

Some mountains and a dog part 10

previous | AO3 | masterpost

For once, Geralt didn’t wake up all at once. No, it came gradually to him, the first thing to reach his half unconscious mind being the warmth that surrounded him; he didn’t open his eyes and simply nuzzled closer to the source of that warmth. He didn’t sigh but he would have, had not he been taught at a very young age not to externalize what he was feeling.

He could hear Jaskier’s heartbeat next to his ear and vaguely realized that the reason he was being so comfortable was because Jaskier was there. Well, if he had Jaskier with him, he could allow himself to stay here a little longer. He could use the rest, after the events from the previous night.

That made Geralt open his eyes and shoot an almost panicked glance towards Jaskier. Gone was the sleepy laziness that came with waking up safe and warm; he suddenly needed the reassurance that it had not been a dream.

His eyes met blue ones that were shining with affection. A hand fell on his arm, drawing meaningless patterns in a soft touch that sang of love.

“Hello, Geralt. I don’t know why you look so panicked, everything’s fine- oh!”

Geralt interrupted him mid-sentence to kiss him. He drew away to look at the blush that had appeared on Jaskier’s cheeks; he was obviously pleased.

“Not that I mind a good morning kiss – in fact, I fear I’ll need one every morning now – but are you okay?”

At any other moment, Geralt would have taken the time to consider the question. But here, with the sun lighting up the room and falling on Jaskier’s hair, making it look more golden than brown, with the way Jaskier was smiling up at him, his hand still a solid reassuring point of contact between them, Geralt immediately knew the answer. The anguish from when he had truly woken up was gone.

“I- you’re here, so- yes,” he mumbled, not quite looking at Jaskier but not avoiding his eyes either. Just because they were together now didn’t mean it was easier for him to talk.

But Jaskier seemed to understand, for his smile turned even more tender. The silence between them was a comfortable one; they both could hear the birds singing outside, and Geralt knew that if he were to glance at the curtainless window that was behind him he’d find a perfect blue sky, a promise for a bright and hot summer day.

Jaskier’s stomach grumbled, and Geralt couldn’t help but huff a laugh. They were still them, despite everything.

“Oh, hush,” Jaskier chastised, faux pouting. “We should get up anyway, I know you’re not one to stay in bed for long in the morning – Melitele Herself knows how many times you dragged me out of a room that I had rented, because Witchers don’t sleep until midday, Jaskier, the Path is waiting for me. Don’t laugh! You know it’s true!”

He was right, of course, but Geralt would rather eat Roach’s saddle than admit it.

“We should head downstairs,” he said instead, just to enjoy the look of sheer outrage on Jaskier’s face. “I have to tell you about my hunt,” he added, and Jaskier’s look softened.

“You have to, indeed,” he amended. “I’m sure Violet and Lila want to know what happened. What happened, by the way?”

“You’ll have to wait until I tell them,” Geralt said, just because he knew it would annoy Jaskier.

“So no preview because I’m your- your-”

Geralt could see that Jaskier was struggling to find a word; thankfully, he for once had one ready, one that he would have used earlier if he had dared to do so.

“Companion?” he suggested, warming up at the way Jaskier’s smile suddenly seemed even brighter than before. “No, no preview because you’re my companion, you’ll have to wait.”

Yes, Geralt thought as the two dressed up, Jaskier still pouting and him keeping his face as blank as possible, nothing has changed at all. The only difference was that he was allowed to take Jaskier’s hand in his and that Jaskier now randomly pecked him on the cheek, like he did right before they left their room.

***

The thing was that Geralt had never really allowed himself to be gentle with himself before meeting Jaskier; and even then, it was the bard who made him understand that taking a break was not useless or futile. “Sometimes, you have to stop for just five minutes to be able to go on” he had said, and Geralt tried to remember these rare words of wisdom. It was easy to take a break for Jaskier; his friend needed more breaks than him even if he wasn’t human, and it had never been a pain for him to stop walking because the other man needed to, despite what he had been telling him. Years after their first meeting, Geralt had come to understand that he too deserved to rest.

Maybe that was what it was, the peacefulness that he was feeling as he walked down the stairs trying not to trip over his own foot as he avoided the plants. Maybe that was what Jaskier had wanted him to feel all these years – like the weight of his armor had been lifted off his shoulders. Or maybe it was just because he and Jaskier were together now – because his feelings were actually returned.

“You’re going to regret wearing a black shirt, you know?” Jaskier said as he walked down the stairs behind him. “I mean, you’ve been alive for what, decades? Centuries? And still you keep on wearing black shirts on sunny days. Heatstroke is no joke, darling, and I’d rather not have to put you on Roach to drag you somewhere safe – don’t you dare laugh at me.”

“Hmm,” Geralt replied, because that was the safest thing to say at the moment – anything else would have launched Jaskier into a rant about Geralt’s (lack of) good taste in clothes.

Lila and Violet were already awake. Violet’s red hair had been braided, no doubt Lila’s work; speaking of Lila, she was wearing –

“You have glasses,” Geralt said flatly, not quite managing to make it sound like a question. He was practically sure she hadn’t been wearing glasses the previous days.

“I made some for her,” Jaskier explained as he sat down on the bench. “Hello, Violet, Lila. Good morning! Please excuse Geralt here, he doesn’t have the best manners.”

Violet chuckled as she poured them milk. Geralt sat down on the bench opposite of Jaskier and Charcoal immediately rushed to his side. The witcher started to pet him, marveling at the softness of his fur.

“Good morning to you both,” Lila smiled before turning to Geralt. “Your companion is one talented man, Geralt, I can see – everything, now. It’s- I can’t thank you enough, Jaskier.”

A glance to his bard informed Geralt that the other man was smiling at Lila.

“I’m just glad I could help,” he said. “Now, Geralt, I believe you promised me that you would tell us about your hunt.”

Ah, yes, the hunt. Geralt hadn’t thought about how he would tell them what exactly had happened, but this was a job; words always came more easily when he had to talk about a hunt. So he told them, slowly, how he had walked for hours before finding what he had been looking for, how the monster that was taking the sheep was actually a family of shifters trying to survive, how young the pups had looked – how desperate to live they all had been.

“They won’t attack you,” he finally said. “I told them that instead of stealing they could find shelter here with you – that you were more welcoming than other humans. That you’d need time to forgive them, because they took away from you things that were dear to you, but that you’d never throw rocks at them. I don’t know if they’ll listen, but I tried my best.”

Violet had tears in her eyes and had taken Lila’s hand for support. Everything around them seemed quieter, despite the birds singing outside and the sheep that he could hear from afar. It was easy, up in the mountain, to forget about the unfairness of men, about prejudices and how people were trying to escape them.

He hadn’t stopped petting the dog – the mechanical movements helping him to think, to focus on the task at hand.

“So- we’re not in danger.” Lila said.

“You’re not.”

“And they’re the one who attacked our dog.”

“They are,” Geralt confirmed, because it was the truth.

Lila frowned and looked at Violet. The two of them seemed to have an entire conversation through that one glance, and Lila sighed.

“I’m glad to hear that we’re not in danger – that whoever they are, they’re just trying to survive, not to actually harm us. Thank you for- thank you for telling them that they can come if they want, I’m not saying I’d welcome them with open arms, but- you know.”

Such kindness was something that Geralt could not help but admire; he told her so, and Lila smiled.

They had all been eating quietly for a few minutes, all lost in their thoughts, when suddenly Jaskier said:

“Dear heart, don’t think I’m not seeing you giving your bread to the dog again.”

Caught in the act, Geralt froze. Violet snorted. Jaskier wordlessly gave Geralt half of his bread again, a soft smile on his lips that made Geralt want to kiss him. He didn’t, but smiled his thanks.

It was not his fault that he couldn’t resist giving bread to the dog; his brown pleading eyes seemed so sad when he didn’t, and the last thing he wanted was to make him sad. So giving his bread to the dog it was – and if it made Jaskier laugh, well, it was a win-win situation.

“When will you two leave?” Lila asked Geralt, who looked at Jaskier. The bard shrugged.

“Not so long after we’ve finished breakfast, I think,” Geralt replied, and Jaskier nodded.

“As much as I love to be on holidays with Geralt,” he sighed, “he still has a duty to the continent.”

They finished eating breakfast, Geralt once again giving his bowl of milk to Jaskier just to enjoy the smile on the other man’s face. They put plates away, and Jaskier stayed with Lila to wash the dishes while Geralt went upstairs to pack their things. It didn’t take him long, and he was carefully setting Jaskier’s lute case on the table when he caught the end of their conversation.

“See? We told you he loved you. It was obvious.”

“Yes, in hindsight I guess it was, but still-”

“You worried for nothing, Jaskier. We had known you two for less than five minutes and we knew – how you didn’t notice is beyond me.”

Splashes of water.

“I mean- We were friends for a long time! Maybe that was the way he was with his friends!”

Geralt chuckled.

“I heard that, Geralt.”

He walked outside, finding them looking at him. Both smiling, they had piled up the dishes to put them away – it was done, then. Jaskier helped Lila, thanking Geralt when he saw that all their things were ready.

Geralt went to search Roach. She gently headbutted him and he pet her before saddling her. She had eaten already, her fur was still brushed from the previous day; they were ready to go.

Their small vacation had turned into something great, Geralt mused as he walked towards the house, something that they both hadn’t seen coming – Jaskier tricking him to take a break for his own good, and Geralt deciding to indulge him because he wanted Jaskier to be happy first and foremost. He couldn’t have planned that they would end up together, that he would earn the right to hold him – wait, he had that right now. Geralt couldn’t wait to snuggle against Jaskier the next time they would go to sleep – not that he would ever say that out loud.

Jaskier had made some flowers grow again, to Violet’s delight, when Geralt joined him.

“Muscaris”, the bard said, “because the blue of the small flowers goes well with the violet of the crocuses.”

Geralt let him talk with Violet and Lila while he put their bags on Roach. It wasn’t everyday that Jaskier could truly talk with someone that wasn’t him or another witcher – they rarely met his friend Essi while on the road. Maybe they should; a meeting could be arranged.

“You’ll always be welcome here,” Violet promised as they were about to leave. “Don’t hesitate to come back – hopefully you won’t have to solve another problem next time.”

Jaskier replied something that Geralt didn’t listen to; he was thinking about how to adapt their travel plans for the next year to come back here – it wasn’t like him to get attached to humans so easily, but Lila and Violet were kind souls that he wanted to see again. And Jaskier kept on saying that he deserved a break from the path from time to time – it wouldn’t hurt anyone for them to climb up the old volcanoes to meet two shepherdesses and their dog, and hopefully a family of shifters helping them.

“Until we meet again,” Jaskier said to them, and Geralt nodded. He petted Charcoal one last time while Jaskier was putting in their bag the cheese and bread that Lila had given them – she had insisted and Geralt hadn’t had the heart to tell her no.

He took Jaskier’s hand in his because he could, the other one leading Roach. The sun was making the dust of the path look almost white, and he could already feel that putting on a black shirt had been a bad idea, though he wouldn’t tell Jaskier that.

They walked down the valley, the world open in front of them, thinking of what they would do next but still enjoying the way the sun warmed their skin, how the birds seemed to sing only for them, their hands holding each other in a point of contact that looked like nothing would ever be able to break it.

#Geraskier #The Witcher #Geralt of Rivia #Jaskier #geralt x jaskier #mine #here we are guys #the last part

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idjitlili · 5 years ago

Text

Imagine asking Thorin to braid your hair like legolas’ which he does.surprise, Surprise, Surprise .

Extra information:Kili , fili, nor Thorin die in the five armies.

Word count:2071

You had been friends with legolas ever since you literally fell into Mirkwood. Legolas was suspicious of you for a while but then warmed up to you, he even convinced his Thranduil to let you stay in Mirkwood.

Thranduil brought Elrond to see you, to see if you were telling the truth. As Elrond is a magically elf or something legolas had told you. Thranduil didn’t really like you , but the same as legolas he warmed up to you it just took a lot longer. He sympathised you, Losing your whole life , and family ending up in a stranger world with elves dwarves and hobbits.

You lived with Thranduil and Legolas for over a five at this point, in which surprisingly Thranduil became very protective of you. So when you had been walking near the river , and thirteen dwarves , and hobbit had been rushing by. Along with Orcs , you were more than shocked. In which you had snuck out passed river gate to go sit somewhere alone. You knew Thranduil was going to be mad. Damn Thranduil was your dad.

Even more shocked when something hit you in side , making you fall sideways into the the river. You heard someone calling your name , sounding like legolas, you glance up while you are falling to see legolas running after you fighting orcs.

Your mouth gaps open, “legolas.” You almost whisper. You expect to hit the water with a smack, but instead you are caught by strong arms. Damn what are the chances , that you fell as a barrel went past exactly when you fell into for them.

You do be in a romance move, now who was your prince. Little did you know he wasn’t a prince..

You turn to see a long haired man, oh right he was a dwarf. He was very good looking, you look into his ocean blue eyes with your e/c ones. “T-thank you.” You stutter our to your James Franco. He looked like one of those guys , that acted tough , but were really were so sweet.

He gives you a small smile, placing you in the small barrel, that was very tight for two people. You look around to see the orcs fading away, and Legolas looking towards you, you give him a wave , before he disappears as you turn around a corner. Thorin notices your gesture, deciding to speak up now.

“How do you know the elven prince?” He questions you with a rough voice, damn sexy.

You are startled by his voice , “uh , I have been living with him and Thranduil , since they found me in the forest.” He looks at you processing your words slowly.

“What were you doing in Mirkwood?”

“You won’t believe me.” You tried to avoid the question.

“Try me.” He looks at you intensely.

“Uh well I was in my kitchen making mash potatoes when I tripped over my dog , and felling into Mirkwood forest , when a weird line thing appeared on the floor.” His face unreadable.

“Yeah that is bloody crazy, we shall take you to Gandalf, but for now you should come with us, going back alone is dangerous “ he spoke as you approach the shore.

“Who is Gandalf?” You didn’t mind going with them, you had done nothing really in Mirkwood except read , draw , eat watch Thranduil sass everyone. This quest, mission, thang seemed like fun, so you didn’t even question it.

“He is a wizard,” you nod understanding.

Throughout the travel to Erebor Thorin made sure to keep you safe, he knew Thranduil allowing you stay with him and his son was beyond impossible. Plus he saw legolas looking at you when, when he caught you, he knew he would tell Thranduil. Knowing his he knew if something was to happen to you he would probably be slaughtered.

When you reached Erebor, Thranduil and Bard trying to settle what Thorin promised. You stood next to Thorin, Thranduil saw you straight away with his elf eyes.

“Y/n?” He called out, you waved back eagerly.

“ADA! Thorin says I can stay with him for a while.” You smile, that was the first time you had called Thranduil , your father , it made his heart swell with love. But he was angered at the thought of you living with dwarves. Thorin liked you, it was better because you weren’t a elf and that it annoyed Thranduil you staying with his kin.

After the battle , which had joined in because you felt like something bad was to happen. Of course it would you idjit people are trying to kill each other it’s a war. Dumbass. Which you had saved all three of the Durins line. Thranduil had quickly rushed to you , to make you come home with him.

“Please let me stay, I am an adult , I just want to stay for a while to see what it’s like here.” You beg, frowning.

“Y/n , Mirkwood is your home, me and legolas love you.” He pleads , grasping your hands.

“I know , as do I but I must I really want to see what life is like here , I will write and visit , and it will just be for a couple of months. Also forgot to mention ,this is far fetched to believe a nice ginger women called rowena kidnapped you ,and told thranduil if he got a certain spell book she would set you free. And give you more years in life , and slow down ageing. (This allowed you in to live through lotr yes babe) it was crazy , but this women loved her son and needed to save him.

You eventually convinced Thranduil to let you stay, and hugged him goodbye. You entered , “ I guess I am staying boys!” You exclaimed throwing your arms up , receiving cheers from the other dwarves.

Kili and Fili liked you very much, they included you in many of their pranks , for example: You guys stole Bofurs hat while he was sleeping putting it into the oven. He spent three hours looking for it, he wasn’t pleased , lucky the oven wasn’t lit. Uh , kili also shaved off Bofurs eyebrows , that didn’t go done well either. He tried hiding it with his hat, it looked terrible.

Thorin wasn’t happy with this especially , when you pretended to be injured , he came running , when hearing you shout.

He clutched your hand in distress begging for you to wake up, only for kili and fili to whacked him in the face with a cream pie. You had bust out with laughter , he wiped the cream from his eyes looking doing at you smirking.

He wiped the cream onto your face, his hands running done to your sides , tickling you. You couldn’t breathe. “T-Thorin p-lease.AHH.” You tried to reason with him the best you could , but it was no use. your cheeks hurting from laughing so wide, your throat dry, sides aching.

You reached your hand up to Thorins face getting cream on it, you tried to eat it off your hand with out choking. You bust out coughing , Thorin stopped, sitting you rubbing you back, at this point Fili and kili has left minutes ago. As they wanted to talk secretly about Thorin not being an ass.

“Are you okay?” He asked you with a cream covered face.

You stopped coughing, looking him in the eye “damn are you okay? You look a bit pale. DAMN you are a elf.” His smile , disappeared , in which his hands reached for your sides again. “You done it now .” He smirked , and he attacked you again.

After this attack , he help you up , and you led him to the sink, that was five steps away because you were in the kitchen. You used a sponge to wipe all the cream off. His face wet, eyes scrunched up , so no water could get in them. He was finally able to be happy after getting revenge and reclaiming his home and finding a nice girl/

You used a cloth to dry his face , dabbing it gently, unknowingly to you , Fili and kili came back watching in awe. Secretly obviously.

Now that brings you today you sat in your bed with a small mirror between in your legs In your chambers, trying to sort your hair like legolas used to do it. The same as his . There was three gently knocks at your door, you had told them to come in.

The door opened to reveal. Thorin , with a box, it wasn’t rare for Thorin to gift you with things. You just thought he was being friendly, but little did you know. He was attempting to court you. He stepped in with a gently smile, he looked you up and down.

Your cheeks flashed with red, you wore a tunic and underwear (or shorts whatever I know they didn’t have underwear.) , as you wore them to bed. But you were struggling with your hair otherwise you would’ve been dressed a long time ago.

“ are you okay?” Thorin spoke with a small smile.

“Uh I am just struggling doing my hair today, otherwise I would’ve been up already.” You were embarrassed for the king to see you like his.

“Would you like some help?” He walked slowly closer towards you, placing the box on the end of your bed.

“ would you help me? Your hair looks majestic all the time.” Thorins cheeks spike with a small dash of pink.he nods his head.

“Thank you, may I ?” He gestures the space behind you on your bed, you nod with approvement., you pass him your brush, which he had also gifted you. Damn he’s a king he can do what he likes.

He sits , gently brushing your tangled soft h/c hair. You didn’t know about dwarven courting rituals , well you knew nothing about any other than modern day ones.

“ how do you want your hair ?”

“Uh.. like legolas’ , I get if you don’t want to, he used to do my hair for me..” you frown , it was easy when you had an elf doing your hair everyday.

“I will, you will have to remind me on how he does.” Which you do , allowing him to get to work, with his thick fingers gently pulling and gliding in your hair. It was relaxing to say the least. Damn it was scary to think he could kill you , yet he treats you like glass.

His fingers soon pull away from your hair, and he softly mutters ‘done’. You pick up your Mirrow looking at his work, your eyes lite up with joy, he was very skilled with his fingers. Could you imagine you quickly dismiss your dirty thoughts. You turn around hugging him tightly, after a minute you pull away smiling at him. “ thank you.” He stands you walking to where he put the box , he picks it up looking at you.

“ y/n , these last couple of months I have been trying to tell you something, I am just going to say it... I would really like to court you, I have brought you something, if you would accept, I would you wear it to dinner with me tonight.” He looks down at his feet breathlessly and frankly scared.

You stand up walking towards him , lifting the lid to the box to reveal a navy blue blue velvet dress. You gasp,bringing your

Fingers to feel the material, it was beautiful, damn that must of been expensive. You quickly use that hand to lift up Thorins chin, leaning over the box you press a kiss to Thorins lips. He smiles widely at you. “ I accept,is that why you have be so many gifts?” He nods his head still grinning.

“I would accept even without all the gifts , I knew when my you caught me, I do be living in a romance novel.” He chuckled at you, placing the box down again , wrapping his arms around your waist pulling you close. Pressing a kiss to your lips , this time very passionately.

That night you write a letter to Thranduil and legolas , about your news. You knew Thranduil gonna be shaking , and not his ass.

A/n I finally managed to do my hair like legolas by myself for the first time. I am so happy.(yeah that pic is my hair)

#the hobbit imagine #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit #thorin imagine #thorin x you #thorin oakenshield #thorin fic #thorin x reader #the hobbit x you

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vanegranbluefantasy · 4 years ago

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absolutely 0 of my friends want me to write an essay about how paimon is just a worse version of vyrn, so i'm going to do it here

the essay is under the cut if you want to read it

1. intro

First and foremost, who is Paimon? And by extension, who is Vyrn? How are they similar, and why would I want to compare them?

Paimon is from the game Genshin Impact, a popular RPG game that has been going around in the eastern gaming community. It's quite fun to play, but I got bored of it fast, but that is off topic. Paimon is a character that is introduced to you at the very beginning of the game. She's a in-game tutorial character, and also shows up in the game's pause menu. Even outside the pause menu, you see her a LOT in the game. The main quest has her talking quite a lot, and in character side-quests she acts as the main character's companion.

Moving on, Vyrn is apart of my favorite game right now: Granblue Fantasy. If you don't know what Granblue Fantasy is, it's a mobile game that came out in 2014 and is still quite popular today. It is a more visual novel based with an focus on teambuilding over combat. Back to Vyrn, he's also introduced to you at the very beginning of the game, and also acts as the in-game tutorial (somewhat, there are other characters who also guide you through the beginning of the game, but he is the one the player starts off with). Similar to Paimon, Vyrn is with the main character wherever they go, and although not apart of the pause menu, he has dialogue in many, if not the majority, of quests.

Both act as the mascot of each game, which makes each a better sell. They are both cute characters that are supposed to draw people in, which is why they're introduced within the first few seconds of each game. However, they're similarities go beyond that. Although their dialogue is not too similar for me to say that they have the same personality, they most certainly are both strange beings that float/fly, and go with you EVERYWHERE.

Why am I comparing them? The purpose of the essay is to see why I love Vyrn, but hate Paimon. You see, when I started playing Genshin Impact, I have already put months of my time into Granblue Fantasy at that point, so when I saw Paimon in Genshin, I said to myself, "Oh, this girl is cute. She reminds me of Vyrn! How fun!" Now, after putting hours into Genshin Impact, I've found myself to just despise her dialogue. First impressions are everything, but Paimon became more of a thorn in my side as I played through the game. Therefore, I'm here to analyze why.

2. Vyrn and Paimon's relationship to the player

Vyrn and Paimon's relationship to player is extremely interesting to me, and could be the reason why I don't like Paimon as much as I do Vyrn.

Paimon is introduced to the player immediately in the game, which is not a bad thing. Generally, every game has a tutorial stage to help the player figure out what to do and how to play, but Paimon is not a typical tutorial character. In many games that I've played, most tutorial characters are mentor types, and Paimon is not that. Paimon also does not know what this world is and is effectively exploring it WITH you -- not guiding you. This is not inherently bad, since the introduction is not what ticked me off about Paimon in the first place, but later on, it might become clear why I find this a sticking point.

Vyrn, in another game, is introduced very differently. He is introduced as "your best friend" which on it's own is quite weird, considering he's a flying lizard, but you're apart of a new world, anything could happen. He's been alive for an amount of time, so he generally knows what is going on. Not exactly a mentor type, but he gives much more clarity of the world the player is in, at least in comparison to Paimon. In the introduction, he gives a very clear picture of what kind of person the main character is and their backstory. Honestly, I came to trust him very quickly, despite him being a weird little monster.

These introductions in comparison seem really similar, which is why my initial reaction to Paimon was "Oh, this is Vyrn but again."

Now, what I find interesting is the beginning of conflict in both of the games.

Vyrn is introduced almost immediately. There is a beginning cutscene of the main character reading a letter from their father, and then the player meets Vyrn, who comments about the main character reading the letter again. This gives a backstory with Vyrn almost immediately. He knows that the main character has the asperation to get to the land of the astrals, and he wants to help to get main character there. It is only after this scene does conflict start: the Este airship covering the sun.

Paimon does not have this backstory. The initial cutscene in Genshin Impact is vague, to say the least. However, it immediately tells the player the conflict: the main character is searching for their twin. Paimon is not apart of the conflict whatsoever. Making her an outside entity, the main character does not express their troubles to Paimon as they explore this new world.

This marks a key difference in their introductions. Since Granblue Fantasy started the conflict WITH Vyrn, it caused me to be more attached much more quickly. It was clear through Vyrn's actions that he would stand by the main character's side no matter what happened. However, Paimon does not have that same connection. Since Paimon is not apart of the conflict whatsoever, I found a lot of my friends (who haven't played Granblue Fantasy) distrust her very quickly. Some jumped to the conclusion that she is going to be someone evil at the end of the story, and I don't blame them. So far, the only person the player can trust is the twin.

By making Paimon an outside entity to the conflict, it makes her very quickly a potential danger. However, with Vyrn being apart of the conflict, makes him a trustworthy ally.

3. Dialogue

Since the main characters of both Genshin Impact and Granblue Fantasy are self-inserts, someone needs to be able to talk. In Genshin Impact, Paimon is the stand-in to talk for the player, and in Granblue Fantasy, Vyrn is in a similar position. However, their dialogue itself is very different.

Vyrn and Paimon both create nicknames for people, which is why it's very easy to compare the two of them. Vyrn likes to give all of the crewmates nicknames, and none of them seem to mind it. Paimon also gives nicknames to the people her and the main character meet, but it feels less like a joke and more as an insult, calling her nicknames "ugly" and feeling bad when she finds out the nicknames she gives are to important people.

Vyrn's nicknames are generally playful like "Lop Ear" and "Sir Burnsalot," but can get insulting like "Miss Batter-For-Brains" and "Clefty." However, none of the people with the nicknames seems to mind it, despite him saying it very loudly and to their face.

However, Paimon keeps her nicknames almost to herself, as if she's doing them in secret. "Tone-Deaf Bard" and "Guhua Geek" are two of a few of these nicknames. None of the people recieving the nicknames seem very happy about being called that.

Don't get me wrong, both Paimon and Vyrn are being really rude by giving out nicknames to random people, but it's the reactions from the one's receiving said nicknames that gives clarity of the nicknames' true intentions. With the Granblue Fantasy crew not necessarily minding it and Genshin Impact characters getting angry, it becomes clear why the nicknames are created.

Both Vyrn and Paimon talk a lot of both of their respective games, but how the react to the this new world around them that tips the scales of me disliking Paimon.

Vyrn explores the new islands with you with little to no knowledge of the next island the player will fly to, and his reactions to each island are generally pretty on par with the player's. For example, going to an island that covered in mist, he's generally pretty cautious, expressing it in his dialogue.

However, Paimon keeps commenting on the obvious. Her dialogue is almost annoying because it is so obvious. I defeated a boss and she said something along the lines of, "That's it? Where's the treasure?" when there is clear newly-opened door on the other side of the room. The dialogue during the story is not as bad, but I find myself angry at her whenever she speaks anyway. Her comments don't add to the tone or the gameplay. They just frustrate me.

All of her comments and general rudeness make me really angry. She doesn't fight, and she doesn't seem like the one who would fight with me! She's only there to tag along with you, for some unknown reason! Her vagueness makes her worthless to me as the player.

4. Conclusion

The fact that Paimon does not seem like the type to go through thick and thin with the main character makes her frustrating to be around. Her introduction decided her fate of the annoying character that everyone continues to call "Emergency Food" rather than her name.

She's just annoying once you get to a certain part of the story because the constant reminder of her being an outsider is at every corner. She has not once mentioned a THING about the main conflict (finding the main character's twin), and even if she goes through the entire story if the player, she seems like she would run away from the final boss, if she herself ISNT the final boss!

Vyrn at least is like "Oh shit! Time to fight!" and generally is concerned about the main character's health and well-being. He's not much help in a fight, but at the very least he'll express that you need to heal. Vyrn is as much in this conflict of finding the asterals as the main character. He's a trustworthy ally, despite being rude sometimes.

In conclusion, despite being very similar, Paimon was sentenced to me hating her since the beginning because of her placement in the game's main conflict. Vyrn's placement in Granblue Fantasy's main conflict made him a much more trustworthy ally as the game continues.

Sorry for the spacing issues. I'm on mobile. Thanks for reading tho.

Play Granblue Fantasy, it's a good semi-visual novel. Plus, the mascot character isn't as annoying as Paimon.

#vyrn gbf #granblue fantasy #paimon gi #genshin impact #vyrn #paimon

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sunflowersupremes · 4 years ago

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Such Wow. Many Normal. Very Oops.

Just the boys being dorks and getting stuck in a wall.

Kinktober 2020: Stuck in a Wall & Toys Whumptober Day 28: Such Wow. Many Normal. Very Oops

Tags: Modern AU, NSFW

Characters: Geralt, Dandelion

Series: Witcher in Quarantine

Read on AO3

As part of his bribery to convince Dandelion not to break quarantine, Geralt had agreed to let the man help him to fix up the old house. He’d expected it to go poorly, because most things involving Dandelion did (in fact, he’d hoped Dandelion would grow bored within a few days. He had not).

What Geralt hadn’t anticipated was Dandelion trying to squeeze through the old wall they were working on. It had a large hole it in, nearly at waist height, that Geralt was trying to decide the best method of covering it. At some point in the past it might have served a purpose - he vaguely recalled it being part of a dumbwaiter, but the rest of the holes had been patched up.

So they had decided just to board over it, Dandelion on one side and Geralt on the other. He’d turned his back for just a moment then turned back around to see Dandelion’s head and shoulders poking out of the wall.

Apparently he’d decided he ought to squeeze through to surprise Geralt.

It did surprise him, but then Dandelion had gotten stuck.

Once he finished laughing at him, Geralt went around to the room Dandelion had been working in to see if he might be able to get him out easier that way.

He wasn’t presented with any solutions, only Dandelion’s ass wriggling about as the man whined and protested. His hands were apparently stuck in the wall, since Geralt couldn’t see them on either side, leaving him completely incapacitated. It seemed that in the process of wiggling through the wall Dandelion had knocked loose part of the old dumbwaiter which had slid down and pinned him. It would be an easy enough fix, he’d only have to go up into the attic and raise the pulleys, but for the time being it was most enjoyable to watch Dandelion struggle.

Unable to resist, Geralt landed a sharp smack on his butt.

“Ow!” Dandelion’s voice was somewhat muffled, given that his head was on the other side of the wall, but Geralt could hear his irritation. “What was that for?”

“Stupidity,” he replied, giving him another smack.

“Rude,” the singer grumbled. “Geralt, get me out.”

“Why should I?” retorted the Witcher. “At least if you’re stuck in a wall I won’t have to worry about you wandering off to go into town.”

“Geralt!” He struggled pathetically for a moment, then went limp. “I’m stuck,” he whined.

“I thought we had already established that, bard.” It usually amused Dandelion when Geralt used old fashioned terms like “bard” but at the moment he seemed too frustrated.

“No, Geralt, I’m really stuck, like Winnie the Pooh in Rabbit’s hole.”

Winnie the Pooh? Geralt snorted. “How old are you again, Dandelion?”

The poet attempted to kick him, but Geralt stepped back easily, then landed another slap on his ass, then left his hand resting there.

“Geeraalt.”

“Hmm, I’m considering it.”

“Considering? Considering what?”

He didn’t speak, instead pressing his thumb between Dandelion’s asscheeks, above his hole.

Dandelion yelped as he felt the pressure through his thin leggings. “You wouldn’t! Geralt!”

Well, thought the Witcher with a grin, he didn’t actually say no. Kneeling down, he peeled back Dandelion’s pants, pressing kisses against his exposed skin. The singer whimpered and struggled.

“Settle down, Dandelion,” he said. “I’ll give you what you want.”

“How do you know what I want?”

In answer, the Witcher bit his ass, pulling a breathy moan from his friend. “Geeraalt.”

“Yes, Dandelion?”

“You’re cruel.”

He laughed, scratching Dandelion’s back and pushing himself up. “Where are you going?” Dandelion shouted as he stepped away.

Geralt didn’t answer, deciding it would annoy the singer more if he remained silent. He grabbed what he needed and then made his way back to his friend. Dandelion was clearly unhappy, even from only behind able to see his lower half. Geralt sat the toy he’d brought on the ground, then drizzled a bit of the lube over Dandelion’s backside.

“Please,” Dandelion whined.

“Please what?”

Dandelion sniffled. “Geralt, this is not comfortable-”

“Just say your word and I’ll stop.”

But Dandelion’s safe word didn’t make an appearance, so Geralt scooped up a bit of lube on one finger before pressing it inside the singer’s ass slowly. Dandelion twitched around him, groaning.

Geralt rested his free hand on Dandelion’s back, rubbing soothing circles, until the man was nearly limp. Then he added a bit more lube - despite Dandelion’s grumbles that he was slick enough - and pushed in a second finger.

“Now,” Geralt said, slowly spreading two fingers. “We need to have a talk about something.”

“We- what? Is this the time?” Dandelion asked breathlessly.

“You can’t go fooling about in this house, Dandelion, it’s not safe. There’s all manner of things that could hurt you. I imagine you thought it was terribly clever going through the wall, but don’t make a habit of practical jokes.”

“Geralt-”

He withdrew his fingers and struck Dandelion’s ass firmly. “Am I clear Dandelion?” he asked.

“Ow! Yes, Geralt. I’ll behave.”

Geralt didn’t believe him for one moment, and landed several more slaps on the poet’s backside.

“Geeeeraaalltttt.”

He finally stopped the punishment, deciding instead that he’d rather make Dandelion feel good. Dropping to his knees Geralt pressed a kiss against Dandelion’s hole, drawing a long, delighted whine from the singer. “Oh Geralt, please,” he moaned.

Geralt pressed lazy kisses up and down Dandelion’s thighs, using his fingers to carefully tease his cock and balls. After a few moments he slowly pressed his fingers back inside Dandelion, curling them until he found the bundle of nerves he’d been looking for.

Dandelion cried out with delight and Geralt smiled. It didn’t take much to stretch Dandelion enough - the singer liked a bit of burn when he was entered, and he was good at relaxing his muscles, so soon Geralt was unbuttoning his pants, sliding them down just enough so that he could pull out his cock.

After applying a bit more lube, he lined up with Dandelion’s hole. “Relax,” he urged before slipping his cockhead in past the tight ring of muscle.

Dandelion let out a keening wail. Geralt paused, waiting to see if the man’s safe word would be used, but after a moment (during which Dandelion attempted to press back against him) Geralt decided it was safe to keep going.

He pulled out, gripped Dandelion’s hips, and slammed in roughly.

His friend cried out in pain, then, before Geralt could ask if he was alright, gasped, “More!”

Geralt didn’t need to be told twice. He set a brutal pace, fucking into Dandelion’s welcoming body.

He didn’t bother dragging it out, he’d already been hard since he’d see Dandelion’s ass wriggling about in the wall. Besides, he had more plans for the afternoon than a long, lazy fuck (not to mention, he preferred to keep that sort of entertainment in an actual bed).

After a few breathless minutes, Geralt felt his balls tightening and he pressed himself as deep inside Dandelion as possible, digging his nails into the singer’s tender flesh to make him whimper and clench.

That was enough to push him over the edge and Geralt groaned in ecstasy.

He took a moment after his orgasm to get himself under control, then wiped himself clean and buttoned his pants back up.

Dandelion, unable to touch himself, was still hard and desperate. “Geralt- Geralt- I- oh fuck I’m so hard,” he babbled breathlessly. “I can’t- Geralt touch me, my hands- stuck- please.”

Geralt rubbed his back slowly, then knelt down and picked up the toy he’d brought earlier. It was one of Dandelion’s that the man had brought with him, and Geralt hadn’t gotten a chance to try it out before. As a self proclaimed sex expert, Dandelion had all manner of toys, which came as a surprise to Geralt who didn’t understand why so many of them needed to be charged. The one he’d picked out even had a remote control.

He studied it for a moment, as Dandelion continued to writhe and beg. Once he was certain he’d figured it out, he carefully pushed it inside Dandelion’s ass. He stepped back, slipping the remote into his pocket.

“Hey!” Dandelion yelped. “Geralt you bastard! Take it out!”

Instead of obeying, Geralt landed a hard slap on his ass. “I think not,” he said. “I’m far happier knowing where you are, after all, so that you can’t sneak off and try to go to town.”

“I hate you.”

“I don’t think you do,” Geralt replied, eyeing his still hard cock. Knowing it would annoy Dandelion, he pulled the man’s leggings back up, pausing only to squeeze his cock and press one last kiss to his ass. Although tempted to make Dandelion remain pantsless, didn’t want to risk him getting cold (and it would annoy him to have lube and cum in his leggings, which was a good excuse for them both to soak in a tub). Then he landed one last slap on Dandelion’s ass and strode away.

He returned to the room he’d been working in earlier, where Dandelion’s head was poking out. His face was flushed and streaked with tears and dust and he had a pout on his face that no adult ought to have been able to pull off.

Geralt pulled a stool across the room and sat beside him, gently cupping his friend’s face.

“Geeraalt,” he whined pathetically.

“Pipe down, Dandelion,” the Witcher soothed, stroking his cheeks. “I’ll get you out in a few minutes.”

“Geralt my cock is going to fall off,” Dandelion moaned.

The Witcher snorted. “Don’t be so dramatic, Dandelion,” he scolded.

“I’m being completely serious, Geralt, this- this isn’t funny, it hurts,” he whined, giving the Witcher a pleading look.

Geralt discreetly slipped one hand into his pocket and clicked the button on the remote. It must have been almost instant, because Dandelion lurched and cried out.

“Feeling better?” Geralt asked, tilting his head.

Dandelion groaned. “What- ah- what color- was the toy?”

“Purple.”

“Oh gods.”

Geralt studied him with a frown. “Is that bad?” he asked worriedly.

“I like this one,” Dandelion mumbled breathlessly.

Geralt nodded, pleased that he’d not accidentally upset his partner. Then he stood and turned his back on Dandelion, picking up the discarded tools that he’d set aside when Dandelion burst through the wall. As the singer watched in horror, he started patching up the smaller holes in the wall, left over from nails and screws (and a few from a fist fight he’d once had with Eskel).

“Oh my god,” Dandelion gasped. “Geralt you aren’t actually going to- Geralt!”

“I said I’d get you out in a few minutes, Dandelion,” he said. “I’m certain you can entertain yourself until then.”

#series: Witcher in Quarantine #jaskier #dandelion #geralt #geralt of rivia #Witcher Fanfiction #Witcher Fanfic #The Witcher #Wiedźmin #My Writing

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puppy-the-mask · 4 years ago

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Poly? Morph

A Friends to lovers post-dnd-transportation fic focusing on our boys Rant and Rus (debating on adding Edge aswell)

There’s like 4 POV changes so let me know if I should re-write? this was more for fun than anything, It doesn’t get to romance yet but I hope to continue in my free time. Let me know any errors or anything, I’ll put it on AO3 after a bit more editing and input. I’ve just re-read it so much its all bleh to me so i’m getting second opinions/input here

tw/Blood and Death- not graphic but y’know -/(Owo)\-

It’s been 5 years since we began, just a couple of students playing a game of DnD. Mere hours after wrapping up session zero us players arrived home and as a collective felt a foreign wave of exhaustion, falling asleep one by one.

The city's air was damp and the pathways were dim with the light of half dead lanterns. The party was shuffling through the empty streets to the gates bound for our next assignment when a figure appeared out of the shadows, the glint of metal and we found ourselves face to face with a hostage situation.

You had once been the closest we had to a tank, a perk of having been a dragonborn with high strength- even if you were a druid bard- but after being cursed for the upteenth time you’d been separated from your avatar- Blackjack- and rendered a low level support for our high level party.

Without you taking lead your roll was delegated to other, more impulsive members. The next moments are a flurry of movement as a loud burst sends the assailant back along with you- the dagger at your neck drawing blood.

Everything blended together as I flew to the front lines, rage getting the best of me as the look on your face burned itself into my mind. The shock and pain in your eyes drove me forward as the streets were painted red.

The cleric could heal you, I had a life to take.

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

Sans woke up panting, eyelights materializing and analyzing his surroundings. WHAT?

He couldn’t believe it, there was no way… He was back in his room, back in his world- well the one he’d been in before. There was so much to process, his new surroundings aside- their last foe had been someone they’d trusted. And yet she almost killed y/n… had she even known who she was attacking? There were so many questions rattling around his skull as his magic buzzed in his bones. He needed to check on them, he needed to make sure they made it back. Normally he’d shortcut straight to their room but his magic was sluggish and unresponsive. He’d just have to run.

He managed to make it down the stairs without falling and stumble a few more steps before he heard voices. NO NONONO FUCK! I DON’T HAVE TIME FOR THIS!

“AH RANT, YOU’RE AWAKE! RANT?” He had to brace himself on the couch, his center of gravity was much different than his avatar’s “RANT ARE YOU ALRIGHT?” Paps knelt to his level and looked him over

“I’m Fine, Let Me Go-!” The hand on his shoulder tightened its grip as he tried to get past to the door “I SAID LET ME GO! I NEED TO CHECK ON THEM!”

“WHO? RANT TELL ME WHAT’S WRONG.” He just kept struggling, but everything was getting fuzzy as his soul was settling back in his proper body. “Can You Tell Me Where You Are?” More people were walking in, having been drawn from the dining room by their voices.

“WHERE!? I'M HERE WITH YOU AT THE HOUSE- NOW LET ME GO!” more voices joined the conversation but they all started to run together.

“rant? dude what’s wrong!?”

“THE HELL IS HIS PROBLEM?”

“huh, so the shortstack does have eyelights”

“bro?” his eyelights sharpened and shrank on his brother and he felt tears prick his sockets.

“Papyrus?” The soft copy let him go as he stumbled into his brother’s arms. Stars he really hoped this wasn’t an illusion, but the comfort of his brother’s magic reassured him. “It’s Really You…”

“sans? sans what happened?” Rant just shook his head, his voice leaving him. Had that all just been a dream? It didn’t feel like it, there was no way a dream could be that real. He could remember with clarity how vivid it all was, the blood- the pain- the party that was just so full of life despite their situation- their bard. His gaze hardened.

He may not be able to do anything in his current state but there was one other person who was close enough to y/n to have a shortcut straight to them. Rant forced his voice to settle and pinned his friend with his stare

“RUS.” The skeleton stiffened “YOU NEED TO GET TO Y/N, THEY SHOULD BE IN THEIR ROOM”

“bro, sans you need to breathe with me you’re friend is fine.” He ignored his brother, not looking away from Rus.

“RUS I CAN’T USE MY MAGIC” The room stilled around him but he persisted, dragging the younger skeleton closer and dropping his volume “You’re All They Have Right Now.

Seeing his hesitance Rant quickly amended his plea. “If I'm Wrong And They’re Fine I’ll Owe You- I Don’t Care- Just please…”

Rus swallowed, settled his frantic magic, and nodded before stepping out of Rant’s slackened grip into nowhere.

“sans i know you like bein dramatic but yer really startin to worry me- what happened, what’s wrong with yer magic.” Rant took a deep breath before looking up at Mutt and muttering into his brother’s hoodie

“I’ll Tell You Tonight” Shifting he let his tears fall and grabbed at the fabric in front of him “ I-I DON’T KNOW I JUST- I WOKE UP BUT WHAT I SAW- IT WAS TOO GRAPHIC TO NOT BE REAL AND I...” Rant took a shuddering breath “ IN IT Y/N- THEY GOT HURT BUT I CAN’T CALM DOWN ENOUGH TO DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT.” He looked away from the crowd to the ground and flinched at the annoyed responses of some of them- mad at him for interrupting dinner over a nightmare and unaware of the satisfaction each rude comment brought him.

He couldn’t help but thank his old reputation as an attention seeking drama queen, this was his easiest coverup yet. Rant wiped his tears and started the process of evening out his breathing

Stars, it felt so good to be back in his own body. He settled into his brother’s embrace, hugging him back. He’d missed him so much.

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

Blackjack hadn’t exactly been thrilled when you had showed up, he was quite the opposite if he was being honest. He didn’t like taking a back seat while a teenager piloted his body, sue him. But unlike you’d think he didn’t despise you, It was obvious that neither you nor your friends had been expecting a body switch to happen by the end of the first day. But then nearly 5 years later you’d made a deal with good old gertrude, accepted yet another experimental curse, and next thing the dragonborn knew he had his body back.

The next few months were interesting to say the least, he stuck with the party and quietly delighted in how your companions turned to him when they meant to talk to you and expected him to do things he’d never do. You were different then him, kinder, a total bard, and frankly he’s just glad that all those curses you’d brought onto the two of you had transferred. He could deal with a few extra scars if that was the trade off.

You did have a couple similarities though, your shared love of gambling, ale, and women.

The two of you were talking about just that, naming your favorite flirtatious endeavors over the years you’d spent as him- of which there were many, including lady victoria. It wasn’t exactly hard for him to pick up where you had left off but something told him there was something more to the parties’ friend in high places. As good of a rogue as you were you were oblivious to the lady’s growing infatuation, one of the many reasons why the other rogue became the king of thieves rather than you… or him??? Regardless the look on Victoria’s face when he’d introduced you stuck with him, he decided to keep you close for now just in case

You were at the back of the group, his steps slowed drastically to match yours, though you still had to fast walk to keep up with his much longer legs. You were going on about a tiefling academic you’d hit it off with a while back, the one who’d inspired and helped you develop a spell of your own. It was cheesy, a healing spell for those with ‘high charisma’ as you put it that utilized the castor’s kiss. It was effective and Blackjack won’t deny using it on his own to woo the occasional maiden.

You went on and on and he could envision the tiefling in question, commenting about other features as you raved about her cute freckles, when he felt a prickle in his scales. Before anyone could react you were in a figure’s hold with a blade to your throat.

Suddenly the air crackled with electricity as the trigger happy sorcerer unleashed a Thunder Wave. Blackjack braced himself for the impact, feeling something wet and warm splatter onto his tunic. He rushed towards your prone body, yelling for help from the cleric only to curse when they had run out of spell slots.

He sighed, his breath appearing a soft glowing yellow in front of him, he never thought he’d have to use your spell in a serious situation- especially not on you. As he pulled away from your cheek the words manifested on your skin, magic runes snaked down to your neck- glowing that same pale yellow. They ran over your wound until there was no more area to cover and slowly faded as your body repaired itself.

That wouldn’t be enough. The cleric took you from his hold and started pumping on your chest, trying to force air into your lungs in practiced motions. Your blood covered the pathway and the two of them as they tried to keep you from choking on it.

Looking back to the fight Blackjack saw the rogue known as Rumor- the one you called Sans- in the very heart of the battle. He sucked in a breath as he heard their foe cry out, Veronica. He was right, but he held no satisfaction in that. She tried to plead, to escape, but that rogue wouldn’t let her. Blow after blow he refused to stop.

Blackjack looked back to you as you spat up blood, finally breathing on your own, and he couldn’t help but pity any fool that tried to come between the two of you. Just friends my ass

Suddenly his attention was pulled from you to the cleric, who was outlined in a fading golden glow along with the rest of the party, who slowly came back to themselves

“Gods above that boy made a mess!” Rumor, the real one he assumed, looked on the body with disgust. Lady Veronica was unrecognizable.

“I assume y’all are back in control then?” Y/n sat up with help. Their voice was raspy, they were still glowing, and when they coughed into their hand their fingertips were fading away. They focused on their now bloody hand and chuckled “Must take bodies longer to transport than souls I guess. For what it’s worth it’s nice to meet you all.”

It couldn’t have taken more than 3 minutes of chatting before they were almost gone.

“It was nice knowin ya player”

“Heh yeah, I’ll miss getting my ass kicked at poker…” You surprised him with a look of sincerity and fondness, trapping his gaze onto you “Thanks for everything Blackjack.”

With one more smile and a farewell wish that we look out for ourselves they vanished back to where they came from. They really were kinder than they had any right to be

Blackjack stood with a sigh and without a word turned around to head back to the tavern they’d stayed in previously. He didn’t know about the others but he could use a drink, and it’d take many many more before he’d ever admit that he alread missed his stupid little protege.

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

Rus wasn’t sure what he was expecting, when Papyrus had gone to get Rant for dinner he figured his friend was just exhausted from participating in your club. The three of you had become fast friends after him and the other ‘undesirable’ skeletons were relocated away from the main house’s relationship issues.

From what he’d been told you didn’t run into Rant despite having had your face in your phone, doing a little twirl to avoid the other skeleton last second - who had noticed your inattention and been gunning for you from down the hall. Which was just like him, always looking to start something. You’d peaked his interest and after a little chat in the halls he’d let you go to your next class until lunch.

Rus remembered you had looked so nervous and anxious when Rant had dragged you over to their seats across the lunchroom,literally, but you’d engaged and chatted with the shorter skeleton regardless. And while it took a little time he’d started chatting with you as well, since- as it turned out- the two of you were in the same graphic design course.

It wasn’t hard to convince the two of them to tag along with you to the DnD club come second semester, Rant had come prepared with a binder full of paper for notes and a separate stack for his character sheet, he’d come up with lots of backstory for his character- meanwhile Rus had a singular almost empty character sheet and took all of the session getting set up while you had multitasked helping him and participating in the pre-game exposition.

That was only a little over 5 hours ago, so when Rant had come down in a panic with a look that had dread coursing through his bones Rus was a little skeptical something had happened to you. But something told him there was more to it, and the desperation on his friend’s face alone was enough to spur him into action. He wouldn’t take any chances, not with someone he cared about

The moment he opened his sockets his gaze was drawn to your bed and he felt any and all composure he’d mustered up leave him.

“Y/n!?” A faint glow dissipated as he rushed to your side, crawling onto the bed to get to you in your confined space as he gathered you into his arms. Fuck there’s so much blood, Why-What-How??? Fuck!

He hesitated to take your pulse, the blood around your neck still wet. He couldn’t tell where it all came from and he nearly screamed when your hand shot up and grabbed his, your other clamping around his teeth. Rus jerked back and the motion sent the both of you tumbling off the bed, but you managed to catch him and brace a hand against the wall just past him- effectively stopping the two of you.

The two of you sat like that for a second before you exhaled, the tension breaking Rus began to fuss over you.

“Y/n what the fuck happened to you- did Rant have something to do with this? are you okay? do you need to go to the hospital?”

“No! Nonono I’m fine-”

“You’re Covered In-!” You shushed him, almost covering his face again before he caught your hands. He turned one of your palms towards you, it was the one you’d previously been coughing into and shook the offending arm for emphasis “See!!!” You looked past the skeleton at the wall, there was a bloody handprint you’d have to clean off and you could spot some on one of Rus’ hands

You shook your head and got back on track, fixing your tall friend with a serious look

“Look Rus, I don’t need a hospital. I just need to get cleaned up and maybe get a bandaid or two. I’m okay, promise.” He only frowned, searching your face before sighing

“you owe me an explanation later.”

“You probably won’t believe me.” You said with a tired chuckle

You scooched off of your bed and slipped off your pack, letting it hit the floor with a thunk and various muted clinks and clangs from your supplies, kits, and other odds and ends.

“can i ask about the wardrobe change now or should i wait?” You snickered as you fiddled with the various buckles attaching your scabbards and pouches to your person before thinking better of it and reaching for the pin clasping the ends of your cloak together and removing the garment. “Is That A Fucking Sword Y/N What The Hell!?!?”

Your laughter only grew louder as you nodded wordlessly with a grin, looking back at your awestruck friend- who had moved to his knees at the end of the bed, leaning closer to get a better look.

“Yeah, It ties in with the explanation but yeah it’s real! All of it is- wanna hold?” You’d explained excitedly as you quickly got the straps undone and off your body, removing your shortsword and it’s scabbard from the ensemble and holding it out towards Rus. He took it tentatively before sitting back to admire it.

You watched on with a proud look on your face, your smile growing when he unsheathed the blade and you caught his eyelights expand before zoning in on the engraving along the blade. It was a simple enough sword but one of your friends had enchanted it for you way back at the beginning when you all were still discovering and learning your class’ skills and you’d kept it close ever since.

Switching gears you started taking off your armor, which thankfully had taken most of the blood as well as your cloak- leaving your tunic nearly spotless this time around. There was a little soaked in around the collar but it was manageable. In a stroke of genius you grabbed a pair of sweatpants, telling Rus to stay where he was you moved to the alcove in your room that didn’t have your bed and quickly changed pants, throwing your boots and pants into the pile of adventuring gear before smearing blood across your face from your nose.

A mischievous grin spread across your face when you turned towards your companion

“How do I look?” when you got a concerned look in response your grin only grew “Great! I’ll be right back!” Rushing down the stairs you covered your nose, raising your voice so the whole room could hear you

“Hey mom?! I don’t know what happened but I got a really bad nosebleed- can I wash some things?”

Your mother turned from the TV to look at you, eyes widening in surprise and concern “Of course, What happened?”

“I don’t know! I woke up and there was blood everywhere. I think It stopped but it got all over my bed.”

“Here, let me strip your sheets- you get cleaned up.”

“Oh no, you don’t gotta do that.! I can get it, just give me a sec.” You tried to wave her off but she insisted, already heading up your stairs. Aaaah fuck Rus isn’t supposed to be here he didn’t use the door!!!

You felt rather than heard the pop of magic in the air and sighed, You’d have to get with him later, but for now you had blood to clean. You absently wondered if rubbing alcohol worked on leather.

Getting back to your room you looked around and found that all your gear- which you had completely forgotten also shouldn’t have been there- was piled up in the same place you had previously changed, hidden from view of your mother. You also found your phone plugged up on your bed with messages on it’s screen

~Rus~

-text me after dinner

-i’ll come over w/ rant and you can explain

Rant? Who’s-OOOOOHHH!!!! Right multiverse shenanigans, Sans is Rant here. As you were going to unlock your phone you got another text from the aforementioned skeleton himself

~Rant~

-RUS SAID YOU WERE ALIVE. I’LL BE TELLING MY BROTHER WHAT HAPPENED TO US IF YOU WOULD…

The message cut off, which concerned you until you remembered that you’d have to enter the app to get the full message since it was so long. Inputting your passcode you re-read the full text

-RUS SAID YOU WERE ALIVE. I’LL BE TELLING MY BROTHER WHAT HAPPENED TO US IF YOU WOULD BE UP TO COMING OVER AND EXPLAINING IT TOGETHER? I’D BE NICE TO NOT LOOK INSANE IN FRONT OF MY ONLY FAMILY

-We’ll see if I can make it after dinner, I owe Rus an explanation too. He actually just texted and said he’d come over with you so /I/ can tell /y'all/ what happened

-You slipped up by the way, you live with your ~cousins~ remember?

-YOU’D BETTER COME OVER…

His bubble appeared and disappeared before he finally responded

- BITE ME PEASANT

-Kinky~

-But also sleep sounds great though

-I HOPE YOUR HANGOVER KILLS YOU

You pocketed your phone with a smirk as you hopped off your bed. Some reheated leftovers sounded amazing right about now, you feel like you could eat a whole feast. You glanced over at your things and considered your unending flask of honey mead before thinking better of it. Sans- fuck RANT- was right. That healing spell would give you a major hangover after you woke up, especially with how much it had to heal. You shivered as you felt your own mortality weigh down on you.

You’d almost died again, and there were no more resurrection scrolls- especially now that you were home. Your eyes drifted back to the flask…

It couldn’t hurt to celebrate a little could it? Not only are you alive but you’re home! Besides you’re already going to hate life in the morning, why not enjoy a few swigs before that cliff?

You took a long drink and closed the flask, burying it under your things before making your way down the stairs to get something to eat. It wasn’t long after that you were in your usual spot on the couch watching TV with your family and laughing together. You’d even gotten a hug from your mom during a sad scene, and if she noticed you crying a bit more than you meant to then she didn’t say anything. It wasn’t totally unheard of for you to shed a few tears for fiction after all.

#Poly? Morph #fanfic #Rant #purpfell!sans #Rus #sf!papyrus #Getting sucked into your DND game sucks but what about after?#next episode- Rant and Reader share screen time in their own fic #but first 'The Talk' tm #I called myself out in the last paragraph but i'm taking ya'll down with me #I hope this all pasted correctly cause I'm too lazy to check #it doesn't feel like 9 docs pages but oh well #thanks for reading! <3

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alvaar-aldaviir · 5 years ago

Text

First Bite (Vampire AU)

Based from this post. Because I can’t be trusted @ffxiv-writers.

Time Frame: Heavensward. No Spoilers. AU

Notes: A dumb vampire AU where the twins are older and dhampire’s. Vampires are the upper class and respected academics/mages in Sharlayan and so quite respected there, but wary mistrust everywhere else. Dhampire’s do not need blood to survive, but to replenish their magic. Everything else in the story is the same, more of an exploratory ‘what if’ because we ALL know vampires are kinda hot and I have no self control.

Just a self-indulgent bit of writing for that first bite scenario, after a heated battle against the Dravanians in early HW.

Cross posted to Ao3.

“You going to be alright?” Alvaar asked softly, studying the Arcanist still slumped against the side of the bed closer to the fire. He’d done his best to patch the larger holes torn into the long-abandoned cabin in the Coerthas Western Highlands, but even then the blizzard raging outside still blew frigid air through.

He wasn’t overly surprised when he only got a mute nod from the pale Elezen. Alphinaud hadn’t spoken much since he’d collapsed in the snows after a fourth abrupt bout with the Dravanian Horde during their scouting mission. With a barely breathing dhampire in his arms, unfamiliar terrain, and a storm rolling in, Alvaar had been given little choice but to try and hole up somewhere to wait it out. Finishing tacking up one of his spare oil skins over one of the shattered windows for insulation, he hopped down off a chair and moved closer. Tossing a few more logs on the fire and tugging the tipped over long table a bit closer to help reflect more heat into the sheltered alcove he’d made from what surviving furniture remained. It wouldn’t be the most lavish of accommodations, but there was plenty of wood to keep them from freezing to death and they wouldn’t be buried under snow. That would be good enough to get them through.

“Jerky?” he offered, holding the wax paper bag he dug out of his pack in offer. “Otherwise I might have enough stuff on me to cook something,” he continued, finding a seat beside him on the floor.

Still buried under the thick blanket Alvaar had wrapped him up in earlier, Alphinaud shook his head slowly, gaze fixed on some far-off point through the floor.

“You should eat something Alphinaud. And don’t start with a ‘only the blood of the living’ crap I’ve seen you eat scones and tea,” Alvaar chided.

“I eat solid foods yes. But it would be a waste right now. I won’t keep it down,” he murmured.

That made the Bard still before ducking his head to study him with concern. “You sick? You said earlier it was magic depletion. That’s a rest and eat well situation Leveilleur. I can do a broth or something instead?”

Again, he shook his head, seeming a touch more annoyed but breathing out a slow sigh before he winced with discomfort. “I... I’m afraid I didn’t account for this much difficulty in our travels. And in light of recent days and troubles it has been difficult to acquire fresh stock...” he mumbled.

Staring at him for a long moment, Alvaar finally piped in with a flat, “You need blood.”

The dhampire’s ears twitched, a faint flush coloring his face as he ducked his head. “I... I’ll be fine. It will be difficult, but I can make it until we get back to Ishgard. The shipment Urianger was orchestrating must have arrived by now.”

A long moment of silence stretched out between them, Alvaar chewing on another bite of jerky as he mulled it over before washing it down with a swig from his canteen and slapping a hand to the floor.

“Well, people got to eat,” Alvaar offered with a much calmer tone than he really felt. “It’s just a bit of blood, right? Nothing fatal?”

Alphinaud blinked at him in surprise, the first proper look Alvaar had gotten of him and the red of his eyes was a stark shift from the deep blue he was familiar with. It was enough to make the hairs on the back of his neck prickle uncomfortably, but he refused to let it show.

A few stunned moments ticked past before the Arcanist was nodding. “Y-Yes. I mean no, I mean... of course it’s nothing fatal I’m not savage,” he scoffed at last before his expression muted back out with a faint wince.

Alvaar studied him silently, noting the slightly hunched posture and the way the Elezen’s arms were wrapped at his stomach. He seemed almost sick from the Bards point of view, and in some manner he probably was. Alvaar was familiar with the feeling of starving after all, the gnawing almost sickening ache of an overly empty stomach...

“Then I’ll help,” he stated promptly. “Or donate, whatever you want to call it. What do you need me to do? Get a knife? Offer my neck? What?”

Staring at him in puzzled discomfort for a moment the Arcanist sighed heavily. “Nothing so dramatic... in fact I, well, I prefer drinking from a glass honestly that’s how I’ve consumed blood for years,” he mused aloud.

“... Holy shit do you just have fucking wine bottles of blood lying around in your fancy mansion in Sharlayan? Have you ever served it to a non-vampire?” Alvaar asked, tone purposely upbeat to keep them both distracted and given the nervously amused snort that escaped the pale Elezen it must have worked.

“In a fashion, yes I suppose so, and no. We’ve never mixed up the bottles. ... but a knife would be wasteful I think. It would also hurt more, and I would really rather... Just your arm please? If you’re certain...” he murmured, keeping his gaze lowered and obviously embarrassed and uncomfortable.

“Hey, what’s a little blood among friends hm? Sides, it’s better than the alternatives. I’d rather not see any problems today and, well starving sucks,” Alvaar murmured, holding his arm over after slipping it free from his coat and rolling up his sleeve.

The fingers that lightly gripped his wrist were eerily cold, enough to almost make the Bard flinch but he refrained given how guilty Alphinaud already seemed about the whole thing. And it wasn’t a big deal, it would be like a trip to the chirurgeons... just where needles were teeth... apparently...

“It’s been awhile since I’ve done this,” the Arcanist murmured, thumb trailing along the inside of the Bards wrist almost like he was measuring something. Then he was drawing Alvaar’s arm up even as he lowered his head, mouth opening wide and-

‘Have his canines always been that long?’ Alvaar wondered with a start, watching in morbid fascination as elongated canines set to his skin and-

“Ah!” he hissed before he could stop himself, gritting his teeth and still stubbornly staying put by force of will at the burning pinpricks he felt in his arm. The pain only doubled when the Arcanist jerked away abruptly at the sound.

“Sorry! Twelve above, sorry Alvaar I-” he apologized immediately.

“Don’t worry about it, just a reflex. Do what you gotta kid,” Alvaar cut in, lifting his arm a bit for emphasis. “Rude to waste food, right?” he joked.

The glower he got in return made him grin even as his heart was thumping instinctively with fear.

“I meant sorry because I haven’t done this in some time and I’ve sort of forgotten the steps...” the Arcanist grumbled, a faint flush of embarrassment on his face. “Just... don’t judge, it’ll help.”

Alvaar had been about to question it before falling silent at the wet heat of a tongue lapping over the wound. He winced again on reflex, but the sting was already fading to leave only the pleasant warmth of the man’s mouth against his skin.

“Oh... that’s, neat?” he murmured, still morbidly entranced by the whole situation.

Alphinaud made a soft sound, more to let him know he’d heard him than for anything else. Darker eyes flicked to the Bard pointedly as he lifted his head slightly. “Better?”

“Yea. It’s fine.”

“Good. ... Could you... oh, never mind,” he huffed.

“Could I what?” he pressed.

“I was going to ask if you could look away but somehow, I doubt you would,” Alphinaud mumbled sheepishly.

Blinking at him in confusion, the Bard snorted when it clicked. “Don’t bite people much huh?”

It earned a flat scowl. “Not particularly. Were things not so dire I would prefer to just weather it out but... with all of the fighting since we arrived, I’ve depleted my aether reserves. Even half vampires still have slower aetheric recuperation than most every other creature-”

“Not that this isn’t fascinating but maybe explain it once you’re done?” Alvaar cut in pointedly. “Honestly, I think it’s more surprising you’re not just fixated on my blood.”

“I am,” Alphinaud shot back a bit sharper than he meant and quickly looking away. “... It just... helps. To think about other things and not the fact I’m starving. Wouldn’t you pace yourself so you don’t make yourself sick?”

“... Would you get sick?” Alvaar returned, tilting his head a bit in puzzlement.

“I... no, but what could happen would be worse and I would rather it not happen.”

“Lose control you mean,” the Bard continued flatly, taking the faint flush on the other Elezen’s face as a yes. “Listen I won’t hesitate to punch you in the fucking face if you start gnawing up my arm. This buffet ain’t open and it ain’t free.”

“You say while insisting I hurry up and drink...” Alphinaud returned drily.

“And you should before my senses come back to me and I change my mind. That’s my draw arm I’m offering and it’s going to be a pain in the ass firing while injured.”

“You won’t be injured,” the Arcanist returned promptly before setting his teeth back to Alvaar’s arm and this time he barely felt a thing. Well, he felt something distantly, like his arm was locally numb and he registered the pressure, but he could still clearly feel the softness of lips and tongue against his skin and-

It was a little unsettling how those smut novels were rather on point. It was sort of... sensual wasn’t it?

Looking off abruptly, the Bard resolved himself to not think about it. It was just to help a friend. A very annoying prat of a friend that also happened to be a half vampire or dhampire or... whatever it was. Certainly nothing to get this bothered over. Unless…

“... Wait, there isn’t some passive enchantment shit is there?” he asked, looking back at the snowy haired Elezen. Who wasn’t listening and seemed rather intent on the whole blood thing now...

Shite.

“Hey. There isn’t some mind control shit in all this right?” he asked again, louder and tapping Alphinaud’s shoulder as he tried not to panic.

Thankfully, it got his attention, pulling away with a parting lick and wavering sigh. “Beg pardon?” he asked, blue eyes back to normal but dark and vibrant and honestly if Alvaar needed to find words to describe the soft breathy way he spoke and look he was giving it would be something akin to ‘hour two of marathon sex.’ The urge to ask if he wanted a cigarette almost overrode any sense of propriety.

His question dropped off his mind as he noted the clarity of his own thoughts against the warm and almost sleepy look of the dhampire sitting next to him. If anyone here was charmed it wasn’t himself… And hadn’t Minfillia mentioned something about the Echo protecting his mind from outside intrusion in the past? … Damnit. He wasn’t supposed to be the one panicking here.

“You okay?” he asked carefully after shaking himself free from the thoughts.

“Fine. Perfectly fine,” Alphinaud replied, finally seeming to settle fully into the present and glancing down to where his fingers were still curled around the Bards wrist before lowering a hand to his tome. The healing spell was faint, but still as quiet and warm as the times before as it sealed the two pinpricks of blood before he let go and shifted away a few feet. “Thank you, um, yes, sorry for that and not to be rude but please stay over there for a few minutes.”

“Okay,” Alvaar murmured slowly. “But you’re fine?”

“Absolutely.”

“And you’re not going to savage me...”

“Of course not.”

“So...?” Alvaar pressed after a few moments.

“.... What?” Alphinaud asked, giving him a wary look.

“I don’t get a critique on the vintage?” he joked.

“Alvaar don’t ask that...”

“Why not?”

“Because I really don’t enjoy hurting people contrary to public opinion of my kind and it’s a little hard to remember it when you taste that good,” he returned flatly before pausing, another faint flush coloring his face before he was hugging his knees to his chest in a sulk.

“.... You know I thought I would be... So, is it more like trying to pin down a liquid flavor or a solid flavor?” Alvaar continued anyway.

“We are not having this conversation Aldaviir.”

“I see how it is. Here I am, putting myself out on the line and-”

“Alvaar.” It’s said firmly but there was a touch of anxiety underneath, a note the Bard doesn’t miss in part because it’s reflected in the nervous gaze he’s getting. The glitter of ocean blue over the top of his knees where he’s still hunched over, arms wrapped around his legs and making himself as small as possible.

It’s not the first time he notices how naive and inexperienced the dhampire can be, but it is the first time he thinks perhaps the Arcanist may be more concerned over what makes him different than Alvaar ever was.

He blinks, meeting that worried gaze for a long moment before glancing away to study the fire instead. “You’re right, I shouldn’t tease you. I’m sorry that was out of line.” The quiet crackles of the fire and howling winds outside are the only thing to fill the minutes of silence that stretch between them.

“... How do you make jokes about it?”

The whispered question almost doesn’t reach Alvaar’s ears, but it does and he gives the Arcanist a puzzled look anyway.

“The people of Eorzea... They fear my kind. They only begrudgingly accepted any help from my Grandfather because the situation was so desperate, and they didn’t know what he was. Surely they might suspect it but they would never ask. The only ones here aside from the Scions that know what I am is you...” he murmured, carrying on when Alvaar remained quiet. “When my sister and I first arrived, we came across a caravan being overrun by bandits. The situation was so bleak, and the night was so dark, we had little choice but to use our powers to help them.”

Voice trailing off, the Arcanist buried himself a bit further into the blanket he’d been given. “They screamed. They called us monsters. When everything was over, they tried to kill us too. Alisaie said she wasn’t surprised. The ignorance of Eorzeans has always been a problem she said. But... I started to understand why.

“We don’t think of it much in Sharlayan, where vampires are accepted parts of society. Mortals donate blood freely and it’s preserved and kept openly. Many of the great advancements in aetherology have been made with mortal and vampire scholars working together. There’s no reason to be afraid of vampires because it’s taught to us from the day we’re born not to hurt others. Why would we have to take what’s freely given? We give back our achievements and research freely in exchange. We fight and work together. It’s a cardinal sin to turn someone into a vampire, or to willfully harm someone. Punishable by death or exile at the very least, a sentence that may as well mean death. But the people of Eorzea don’t see that. They only see us as monsters... as something approaching voidsent... So why don’t you? Why aren’t you afraid?”

Studying him quietly for a moment Alvaar pushed himself closer. Pausing briefly when Alphinaud tensed before carefully looping an arm around the Arcanist’s shoulders and pulling him into his side. Settling his cheek against soft white hair he blew out a faint sigh.

“You’re not a monster Alphi, you’re my friend. I made a promise to you and Tataru both when we fled to Coerthas. That I would keep you safe and protect you. I don’t make those sorts of promises to people I don’t trust and care about. What you are doesn’t change who you are right? As far as I’m concerned, you’re just a friend with some interesting dietary needs.”

Blinking at nothing in particular, the dhampire made a slight annoyed face Alvaar couldn’t see but could hear. “It’s vaguely insulting to hear you distill my troubles down to something so base.”

Alvaar gave a soft snort of amusement. “Sorry. Not my intent. It’s just... not a big deal to me personally Alphi. The world at large has its reasons, and I’ll admit I was wary at first but we’re really not that different. Sides, whatever you took I feel fine so it doesn’t seem that big a deal to me.”

“Your blood is... unusually aether rich,” Alphinaud commented after a moment. “It wouldn’t take very much.”

“No shit? Well, I barely cast magic anyway, so I guess that’s fortunate for next time,” Alvaar returned easily.

“Next time?” The incredulous look on the Arcanist’s face had the Bard trying extremely hard not to laugh.

“Yea next time. There always ends up being a next time for this sort of stuff. Gods, read a book Leveilleur,” Alvaar joked, pulling away enough to steal part of the blanket and readjust it over both their shoulders.

“What sort of books are you reading where there’s an invariable need to take blood from someone ‘next time?’” he persisted, frowning as he was once again pulled into the Bard’s side.

Ruffling fluffy white strands absently, Alvaar stretched out a bit, crossing one boot over the other and settling back against the broken bed frame. Leaning his cheek against Alphinaud’s head, he gave a faint squeeze of the arm around him. “Come on, quit fussing and get some sleep.”

“That’s not you answering my question Alvaar,” he complained.

“I have my sources. Now hush, we should get some sleep while we can.”

The Arcanist blew out an irritated breath but didn’t argue it further. Though he did make a reasonable effort by the way he shifted and the several bothered huffs he made as he got comfortable of letting Alvaar know he was beyond annoyed. It just made the Bard chuckle in amusement, again ruffling soft strands gently before closing his eyes and slipping into the easy light sleep that was waiting to claim him faster than usual.

It made him miss when the Arcanist finally eased into his side, shifting a bit closer into the Bard’s warmth before falling into a quiet sleep himself.

#wol #alvaar aldaviir #alphinaud #alphinaud leveilleur #vampire au #smells like writer's block #someone take my fanfic privileges away #now I'm writing vampires #friendly reminder Alvaar absolutely reads trashy romances #on the off chance anyone wants to run with this #go ahead. I'm unlikely to do much with it #oc #writing #mywriting

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theultimatesandwich · 5 years ago

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Sanders Sides/Witcher AU

Thank you @jgvfhl for this amazing prompt that I might have spent too much time on, but WHATEVER!!! I don’t need sleep.....but seriously this is an incredible idea I never would’ve thought of, and my god this was so fun to write. Sorry this took so long. Actually, sorry this took so long that in my putting this off we all learned Deceit’s real name....yikes...anywhoo, enjoy!

Background: Janus is part of a mutant human race of monster hunters known as “Witcher’s”, which doesn’t always give him the best reputation. Roman is a somewhat-failure of a bard who only finds success once he follows Janus on a mission and creates a song out of their experience, giving both him and Jan a reputation-booster. Virgil is an ageless, powerful witch, but he still has high aspirations, which may land him in a bit of trouble.

Tw: sympathetic deceit/Janus, swearing, mentions of violence and death and Remus, adult-ish things(think PG-13 ish)

Janus sat by the banks of the river, yet again drawing in his fishing net. Checking it, he sighed and threw it back into the water. He still hadn’t found what he was looking for. Maybe...no, he was sure that it was this river. While he waited, he walked over towards his horse.

“What do you think, Roach? Are we in the right spot?” Janus stroked his horse’s mane. “It’s gotta be here...it has to be...”

A sound in the trees behind him caused Janus to stop and draw his sword. He stood, ready for any threat. Unfortunately, he couldn’t anticipate the horror that was approaching.

“Jan? Is that you?”

Janus sighed, for it was none other than that bard, Roman. How he was able to keep finding the Witcher, Janus had no idea, yet here he was. And as usual, he wasn’t going to shut up anytime soon.

“Gods, how long has it been?” Roman asked. “Months? Years? Ah, it doesn’t really matter. I was just nearby, and I heard you were in town, and I thought to myself, ‘Hey, it’s been a while since I’ve seen my friend.’ We are friends, Jan, as much as you might deny it.”

Janus rolled his eyes and went back to his net, trying hard to find what he was looking for, and trying even harder to ignore the endless dribble coming from Roman’s mouth.

“I’m just saying, a letter every once and a while wouldn’t kill you, Janus. Maybe “toss a coin” to the person who helped with your reputation? Would that be so hard?” Roman fell dramatically on the ground beside the Witcher. “I’m serious, you would not believe the past few days I’ve had.”

“Hmm,” said Jan, walking away from Roman to try his hand looking upstream.

“Well, if you must know,” Roman said, following Janus, “the remarkable Count de Stael has rejected my affections. One moment, there we were, having the most magical of times together. The next moment, he leaves me in the dust. I’ve been on my own ever since.”

“Hm.”

“I’ve been on the road, with barely any food. If only there was a good friend nearby willing to share his fish?” Roman batted his eyes towards Jan, then glanced around. “Or, someone who would share his fish if he were able to catch any. Do you seriously need fishing tips, because that’s what this looks like.”

“I’m not looking for fish.” Janus muttered.

“Oh.” Roman glanced around, surprised. “Well, what are you looking for, with a fishing net, in a river, where fish usually swim.”

Jan scowled. “A djinn.”

“Like a genie? What would you want a genie for? I mean it would be pretty cool to have some wishes, not going to lie, but I don’t see why you of all people would need —“

“I CAN’T FUCKING SLEEP!”

Roman gaped at his friend as Janus’s eyes suddenly glowed bright yellow.

“Ah, I see,” Roman thought aloud. “Understandable...but! Did you happen to think that maybe this insomnia you’ve been having is not the root of the problem? Would it be better to instead attack whatever’s causing...this?” Roman gestured at Janus, who had turned back towards the river. “I’m just saying, you need to calm down a little, take a load off, stop and smell the roses, et cetera. You know, the Count de Stael once said to me—“

“Did you sing to him before he left you?”

“Dodging the topic a bit, but yes, as a matter of fact...” Roman paused, glaring at Janus. “What are you implying?”

Janus didn’t answer, and tried again to use his net.

“No, no, no, no genie searching right now.” Roman got close to Janus, leaning towards him. “Tell me honestly, Jan: how’s my singing?”

Without looking up, Janus replied, “It’s like ordering a pie and finding it has no filling.”

Roman gave a large gasp, sounding offended. He paced for a second, sputtering, trying to speak but couldn’t find the words he was looking for.

“You!” He angrily pointed at Janus. “Need a nap!”

Roman went on lecturing about trivial things such as “manners” and “friendship”, but Jan wasn’t paying attention. His net had finally caught something.

“And another thing! Wait, what’s that?” Roman looked over Jan’s shoulder.

Janus held up the small clay pot, taking notice of the magical seal on the lid.

“It’s the Djinn,” Janus said. Before he could do anything, however, Roman tried to grab the pot away from him.

“Roman,” Janus warned. “Let go.”

“Not until you take back what you said about my singing!”

“Roman, don’t be an idiot!”

“Says the one with no musical taste!”

The pair bickered, fighting over the pot. They both pulled and tugged, until the lid popped off, falling into Janus’s hand.

Jan glanced down at the seal in his hand. “Roman...”

“See, Janus! This is Destiny’s work, I tell you.” Roman looked triumphantly towards the sky. “Dear Djinn, I have freed you, and am now your master!”

Janus glanced around, on edge. The wind was starting to pick up as the sky clouded over, growing dark and ominous.

“For my first wish,” Roman continued, obliviously, “may my brother, Duke Remus, be struck down with a case of the plague and die a horrible death. Secondly, I wish that the Count de Stael welcome me back with open arms, and preferably very little clothing. And for my third wish--”

“Will you shut up?!” Janus barked. “Roman, you don’t know what you’re doing!”

“Of course I know what I’m doing.” Roman said. “I’m...I’m...” Roman paused, grabbing at his throat. “Jan...can’t...breathe...”

Roman fell to his knees, his throat beginning to swell up. The winds continued to blow heavily as Janus grabbed Roman, got on his horse, and rode off to find help.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After some travel to the local healers, Janus learned of a nearby witch who could help cure Roman’s stupidity. Well, at the very least cure the swelling. He was pretty sure there was no cure for Roman’s lack of common sense. Following the given directions, eventually the pair arrived at a stone tower. Janus helped Roman off of the horse. The local healers had stopped the spread of the swelling for the time being, but Roman was still very sick.

The pair made their way inside.

“Janus,” Roman whispered. “Am I...gonna die?”

“Uh..no.” He gave a small pat on Roman’s shoulder. “You’ve, um, got this.”

Making their way through the hall, Janus called out for help.

“Is there a witch here? We need her help!”

“What gave you the impression that all witches were female?” A voice behind them perked up.

Janus dropped Roman, gently, of course, and spun to face his new opponent. In front of him was a handsome young man, no more than 25, with dark brown hair, a fit body, and perfect, clear skin. But it was the eyes that caught Jan’s attention. Bright purple, almost glowing, they appeared to stare straight through Janus, taking in everything about him.

“My apologies,” Janus said. “We were desperate; we didn’t know.” He gestured towards Roman. “He messed with something more powerful than he should’ve. We were told you were the only one who could help, but nothing else.”

“Well,” the man said, leaning down to inspect Roman. “I can definitely help, but you’ll need to tell me what it was that he was messing with. That and the matter of payment, but we can talk about that later.” He smirked towards Janus. “Isn’t that right, Witcher?”

Janus stared coldly towards the man. “A djinn,” he said.

The purple eyed man paused, clearly taken aback. “A djinn, you say?” Jan nodded.

The man stood up, brushing his clothes off, and extended a hand towards Janus. “Virgil of Vengerberg, at your service.”

Janus shook Virgil’s hand. “Janus of Rivia. But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

Virgil smirked. “Very perceptive, Witcher. Well, I’ll take care of your friend, then you and I can talk for a bit. Consider it payment for helping your friend.”

“He’s not my...” Janus stared at Roman, who was glaring at him. “I mean, thank you.”

Virgil took Roman and, with Janus’s help, carried him upstairs into a spare bedroom. Janus left the room and headed to a table downstairs. After some time, Virgil came down to join him.

“Your friend will live,” Virgil said, seeing Janus’s expression. “He just needs to rest. He must have a knack for annoying monsters.”

Janus rolled his eyes. “Tell me about it,” he muttered.

“So, Witcher,” Virgil said, sitting down near Janus. “How did someone like you find someone like that?”

“It wasn’t by choice. He has a habit of following me into dangerous situations, regardless of being told to stay back.”

“Interesting. And how did he happen to piss off a djinn, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“How did you get to be a powerful witch, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Virgil held up his hands. “Fair enough,” he said. After a moment, he spoke up. “I came from a place of very little influence. But through some training...” Virgil grabbed a flower from a vase on the table and concentrated. The flower began to wilt, and then the vase lifted gently from the table. “...I came into my power.”

“That’s an interesting parlor trick.”

“Well, I’m glad you approve. Now,” Virgil leaned in towards Janus. “I answered one of your questions, you answer one of mine. How did the idiot find a djinn?”

Jan sighed. It was only fair. “By the river. He stole it from me.”

“Interesting.” Virgil stared at Janus, his purple eyes meeting yellow. “Well, I should check up on him.” Virgil stood up and began to leave the table, but glanced back towards Janus one last time. “Be careful not to stray too far,” he said, a smirk playing on his face.

“What’s that supposed to mea--”

Janus’s words were cut short as he felt his body being pulled from it’s spot. His mind clouded. He couldn’t focus. When he finally came to, he was locked in an unfamiliar jail cell.

“Bailiff!” He called once he got his senses back. “Why am I here? What happened?”

The officer scoffed. “Really, Witcher? You go on a killing spree for that witch up the hill and you ask why you’re sitting here?”

Deceit slid down the wall. “Fuck.”

“It’d take a miracle to get out of here,” he thought. “Gods, I wish I wasn’t stuck in this cell.”

Suddenly Janus felt a pain in his arm as his handcuffs came undone, the cell door opening in front of him. The confusion didn’t last long, as Janus quickly wished that he was back at the witch’s tower. He felt another pain in his arm, and he felt the same body pulling sensation, only this time his mind felt clear. The next thing he knew, there he was in front of Virgil’s tower, with two tally marks on his arm.

“The djinn,” Jan thought. “It didn’t bind itself to Roman, it bound itself to...” He thought about Virgil’s reaction to hearing about the djinn, about how Virgil was so adamant at keeping Janus away once he knew about his involvement.

“He wants the wishes for himself, but Roman doesn’t have them.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Roman came to in a beautiful bedroom, very healthy and very alive. He could almost pretend that everything that had happened was some kind of twisted nightmare. Almost. Hunched at the foot of the bed was a cloaked figure, their back to Roman. Across the floor were spell-books, jars, and components that Roman would rather not think about.

“Um, excuse me, very creepy witch?”

The cloaked figure stood up and faced Roman, his purple eyes glowing fiercely.

“Ok, extremely creepy, very attractive witch, who looks like he’s about to commit a crime that I don’t want to bear witness to.” Roman stumbled out of the bed, wanting to put some distance between himself and the stranger.

“What’s the rush for?” Virgil asked.

“Oh, yes, well.” Roman fumbled for words, trying to make his way towards the door. “I believe I left my...cat on the...stove. Yes. That’s right. So you see, I really must be going.”

As he tried to leave, Virgil grabbed Roman’s arm, forcing him against a wall.

“Look,” Roman smiled nervously. “You seem like a very charming, reasonable, not-at-all insane person, so how about we talk this through like sensible people, ok? Or a song? I’m a great singer, you known, even Janus says so. JANUS?!?!”

“He’s not here, idiot.”

“Hey, only he can call me an idiot! And what do you mean he’s not here?”

“You’re missing the point!” Virgil’s eyes flashed purple, more intensely than last time. “I need it!”

“Honey, you need a lot of things, therapy being one of them.”

“The djinn! Make your last wish; give me control of the djinn!”

“You know you could’ve led with that!” Roman yelped. “Almighty djinn, I forgo my last wish and give up all of my power over you to this witch right here.”

As informal as it was, Virgil felt that it was good enough, and began the preparations to harness the djinn’s energy.

“Okayyy...” Roman glanced around. “I’m just going to, you know, leave and never come back. Goodbye forever!” And with that, Roman sprinted out of the tower as fast as he could.

As he finally made his way outside, Roman ran into none other than the Witcher, himself.

“Roman.” Janus couldn’t help but crack a small, relieved smile. “You’re all right.”

“Indeed I am! Now, I would love to catch up with you and all of your escapades, but we need to go. Far away. From here. Right now.”

No sooner had Roman spoken than the wind began to whip around faster. The skies clouded over in a familiar darkening manner, and a nearby rumble of thunder could be heard.

“He doesn’t know what he’s messing with. I have to help him,” Janus said.

Roman stared, dumbfounded. “Um, no. No you don’t. You could just walk away and pretend you were never here.”

“He saved your life, Roman. I can’t let him die.”

“You could die, too! Leave the very attractive, incredibly scary witch, to his inevitable demise! I don’t care if he saved me; cut your losses now before it’s too late!”

“You know I can’t do that.”

Roman tried to form an objection, but defeatedly closed his mouth instead. “I know. That’s why you’re Janus of Rivia. Go on, go be a hero.”

Janus drew his sword and entered the tower, making his way upstairs to the bedroom. The storm outside shook the windows, and the force of the wind could now be felt through the hallways.

As he forced open the bedroom door, Janus was met with a disaster. The wind whipped through the room, scattering broken jars and dust across overturned furniture. Lying in the middle of the wreckage, his face in a state of concentration and pain, was Virgil.

“Virgil!” Janus shouted. “Stop!”

Hearing Janus’s shouts, Virgil looked up towards the Witcher. Now anger joined the mixture of emotions on his face. “What are you doing here?! You’re going to ruin everything!”

“Roman didn’t have the wishes!” As Janus showed the tally marks on his arm a flicker of worry passed across Virgil’s face, but in the next instant it was gone.

“It doesn’t matter anymore!” Virgil screamed over the brewing storm outside. “You’ve brought it here with you, right? Give me its power!”

“Just tell me what you want; I can help you!”

“Fuck off! I don’t need your help!”

A bolt of lightning struck the ground outside, and the resounding thunder shook the walls of the tower. Cracks began to form in the ceiling, and the wind finally blew out the windows of the room.

“You’re going to die!” Janus shouted. “Tell me what you want!”

“I want everything!” Virgil’s eyes glowed bright purple, his face a mask of anger and bitterness. “I need to be stronger! I need the djinn’s power!”

Another bolt of lightning struck outside, and the tower shook once more. Janus felt the building shake and groan, and the ceiling began to cave in around them.

In that moment, time seemed to slow down. Janus closed his eyes, and gave a faint whisper. As he spoke, he felt a third familiar pain in his arm, and the storm outside began to lessen.

The tower collapsed around the pair, but remarkably Janus and Virgil remained unharmed. As the dust settled, Janus extended a hand towards the witch. Virgil glanced up at Janus, a questioning look on his face, but refused the aid.

“I don’t need your help,” Virgil began, standing up. “But I appreciate what you just did.”

“I don’t know if I should consider you strong or incredibly foolish,” Janus said.

“The same could be said of you, Witcher.”

The pair held each other’s gaze for a moment, a mutual respect forming between them.

“I have to go,” Janus said at last, breaking the silence. “The bard’s probably worried.”

“I’m sure he is,” Virgil responded, still staring at the Witcher.

As Janus turned to leave, Virgil called out to him.

“I wouldn’t be too upset. I’m sure our paths will cross again soon...Janus.”

And with that, the two of them finally separated.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once Janus had found a way out of the ruins of the tower, he was surprised to see Roman crying with Roach.

“I told him, didn’t I?” Roman wailed. “I told him, I said if you go in there, you’re going to...and now he’s...what are we going to do now, Roach? Without him, I mean you could probably have a good life, you’re a horse! But me? Gods, they could cut out my tongue, or destroy my lute, or worse! Oh, what I wouldn’t give to hear his voice again?”

“Roman,” Janus finally spoke up as he approached.

“Yeah, like that! Exactly like that.”

“Roman,” Janus said, a little more exasperated.

“Wow, Roach, you do a really good Janus impression.”

Janus sighed, tapping Roman on the shoulder, causing him to yelp and jump five feet in the air.

“Holy mother of-- you aren’t dead!”

“No, I’m not dead.”

“Is the, um, you know...”

“He’s not dead either, Roman.”

“Nice.” Roman nodded his head. “Very nice.”

“So!” Roman clapped his hands together. “Where are we off to now? What spirit of adventure is calling us towards the horizon?”

“I was thinking we get a drink.”

“Now, that I can get behind.”

And with that, Janus and Roman made their way off from the ruins of Virgil’s tower, not knowing where destiny would guide them, nor when all of their paths would cross again.

#sanders sides #the witcher #my writing #sanders sides au #prompted writing #oh gods it's finally done #3k words #10 pages #it wasn't supposed to be this long #oh well

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darkdevasofdestruction · 5 years ago

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Chapter 2 - The Rogue and The Bard

“Okay, so…You really go play board games with 12 year olds?” Billy asked, raising an eyebrow, not believing what I was saying. “Yes. Dungeons and Dragons, it’s called.” I tried to explain to him. “And you’re…Uh…Part of their ‘Party’ ?” he continued, looking at me in disbelief. “Yes. Mike is the Paladin, Will is the Cleric, Lucas is the Ranger, Dustin is the Bard and El is the Mage.” I smiled, looking at him as he drove us to school. “And what are you, babe? The charmer of the group? The Fox?” he chuckled, looking at me. “There’s no Foxes in DnD, you, idiot.” Max grumbled from the backseat. “I’m the Rogue…A Tiefling Rogue. That’s why they called me Fox. Rogues are sneaky and sly.” I grinned at him and continued.“I think you’d make a fine Bard. You have charisma, dexterity and strength.” I try to hype him up, but he only smirked at me with a confused look. “Uhm…You can go around and smack people in the head with a lute.” I grin at him, making him slowly start smiling at how weird it sounded, then chuckled. “I’ll buy a lute just for that.” he let out an amused breath before looking back at the road. “Why did they let you in the Party and not me?” the poor redhead pouted. “Would you want me to talk to them? You see, some of them may have some…Issues, but it’s nothing personal. El, our Mage…She disappeared just a few ago and we kinda miss her. I guess they may be reluctant to have anyone else join us because they miss her.” I told her in a soft voice. “Why couldn’t they tell me that in the first place?!” she leaned frontwards, between mine and Billy’s seats, looking at me. “Well…To put it simple, Max…It’s a problem among all ages. We lack one fundamental skill that could solve more than 80% of our problems and that is, drum roll…Communication.” I say dramatically, making her giggle confused. “What do you mean by that? We all talk so much, don’t we?” she asked again, very curious. “Yes, but that’s different. When you talk, you can either hear, just like you do with any noise, or listen, which you only do when you actually use your brain. Thing is, Max…Most of us don’t know how to Communicate. Your problem with the Idiot Party could have been solved very easily if only they were up for communication, but they’re a bunch of silly nerds. Really. Many people pretend to listen, but they don’t and you realise that only when they get busted.” turning to look at her, I smile and pat her head. “I’d say don’t take it personally, they’re just boys, they’re stupid…But I can talk to them. Believe me or not, I know how to make them listen.” “Whoa, really? You can do that?” she gleamed and practically radiated joy. “That’s why they call me Fox, remember~?” I wink at her with a chuckle, before realising we’ve already arrived. “I say, the way things are, my sister’s gonna charm you before I do.” he scoffed, seeing Max skateboard to her classes. “Awww, come on, Billy, don’t be like that. She’s a real sweetheart. I like her around me, just like I like you.” I nudge him slightly, despite not even budging him. “Besides, it’s nice to finally have proper conversations, y'know?” I shrug a bit, looking away. “Say, babe, wanna see me at practice today? You can cheer for me as I beat the shit out of that Pussy Harrington.” he boasted, putting an arm around my shoulder. “I…Hope not literally, but at the game.” I chuckled nervously, looking up at him slightly. “Fine, fine, whatever you want.” Billy raised his arms in defeat in a joking manner. “Billy! That was mean!” I grinned, trying to stifle my laugh. “Now, there, toots, is where you are wrong and you don’t even believe yourself. I heard your sweet giggle.” he poked my cheek, making me blush slightly and look down. “What time?” I asked, sighing, hoping that nothing will interfere. “First class after lunch.” he flashed a charming smile my way. “I guess that can work. Sure, I’ll be there. But, uhm…Apart from the fact that you gotta score…I know literally nothing about Basketball.” I confessed awkwardly. “Well, you got the gist of it. Leave the rest to me.” he winked, putting his shades on his head. “Project, after?” “If you want to, sure!” I smiled

With that, I went on with my daily at classes, and gotta say, time flew by pretty fast, and before I knew it, lunch began and I went outside to eat, just as I always do, listening to music on my cassette iPod. An hour went by fast and I had to go see Billy’s practice match, his team against Steve’s, and for once, I was a tiiiiny bit intrigued by sports. I enter the P.E. room shyly, seeing how everyone was busy doing the warming up, and I sit on the bleachers, opening my book and reading “The Lord Of The Rings”, my absolute favourite fantasy book, before the match began.

“Hey, Black, this place is for sweating, not reading! Give that here!” a voice yelled in my ear, making me yelp, before they took the book from my hands. “Give me my book back, please!” I stand up quietly, trying not to draw attention to myself. “Why are you here? This is hardly a proper place for you.” Steve scoffed, looking at the book. “Psh, what’s this rubbish? You’re really reading this? Nerd.” he rolled his eyes, holding the book above his head, barely out of my reach. “If you want it back that badly, reach up!” he continued, laughing. “Come on, please, give it back! I didn’t come here for trouble, I just wanted to cheer for a friend!” I tried to say, trying to reach my book. “Friend? You? Of all people? Don’t be kidding.” he scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Hey, lookie here, King Harrington! Too afraid to face me and you prefer harassing a girl? You’re such a pussy.” Billy’s voice echoed from behind Steve, as he easily got the book from his hand. “Why don’t cha come on the field and fight someone your size?” he smirked, getting in his face. “I won’t let you win, Hargrove.” Steve sneered, annoyed, before bumping his shoulder into Billy’s and going to field to his team. “So, you came to cheer on me. Guess now I can’t lose, huh?” he smirked, flexing a bit as he took off his shirt. “Be careful out there. If you flex and show off too much, you might forget you’re playing and not trying to find your next hook up.” I smirked slightly, gingerly taking my book from his hand. “Thank you. I appreciate you standing up for me…Again.” I smiled softly, rubbing his arm a bit, as a way to both say Good Luck and Thank you. “Who needs a hook up when I have to charm the pants off of ya?” he got closer to my face, in a teasing manner. “Go fuck them up…Babe.” I whisper lowly in his ear, as the smirk never left my face, and yet, I back down and looked away slightly. “Great, now I’m turned on and it’s entirely your fault.” he shook his head, biting his lip as he jogged to court, ready to start the game.

The game soon started, and while I have to admit I had no idea what was going on, I would cheer every time Billy would score. I think that’s what I’m supposed to do, right?

The whistle blew and Harrington had the ball, dribbling left and right, until Billy came in front of him, looking intimidating as ever, and they seemed to be…Talking? Do people talk during games? They would bump into each other a lot, before Billy somehow threw him to the ground and got the ball, showing off again as he marked yet another point for his team, then turning to wink my way as he saw I was clapping.

What a jerk.

The whistle blew again, one of the shirtless guys was dribbling the ball and Steve was blocking him, but, of course, since he’s the best player in our year, Billy managed to easily secure the ball and dribbled it away from Steve, but then stopped and started taunting Harrington.

“King Steve! King Steve, everyone! I like it, play it tough today.” he got closer to his face, annoying Steve. “Jesus! Do you ever stop talking?! Come on!” Steve tried to make Billy shut up, but to no avail. “What? Afraid the coach is gonna bench you now that I am here? Huh?” Billy laughed as easy going as usual, then dribbled and pushed past Steve and stop ANOTHER point.

This time, instead of looking at me, he went to Steve, offered to help him get up, but told him something in a very intimidating voice and let him fall to the ground again, before coming in front of me, putting his arms on his hips, smirking cockily and panting.

“Liked the show, babe?” he asked, his chin up. “I have no idea what I watched, but hey, I think you won, right? Congrats! It looked like you did all the job, so I guess I know why the teacher likes you.” I clapped my hands in front of my chest, praising him. “Look at her being so cute. Didn’t I tell ya you were melting my heart? Come 'ere, gimme a hug!” he approached me, but I yelped, giggled a bit before stepping back. “No, no, no. Go take a shower first, then I’ll hug you, okay?” I put my hands up to signal him to stop moving, but he only chuckled. “One of these days, I won’t be the only one sweating, babe.” he teased in a low voice, making me blink and tilt my head in confusion. “I…I don’t do sports, Billy, what do you mean?” I smile at him. “You…You didn’t get that, did you?” he sighed, rolling his eyes. “Uh…No, sorry.” I grin awkwardly. “Never mind. Wait for me by the car, will ya? Unless you wanna join me in the shower.” he winked, giving me a charming look. “Okay, I’ll wait you outside. See ya!” I said cheerfully, walking to his Camaro.

However, before I reached the car, I saw Max and Lucas arguing and I ran to them, putting my hands on her shoulders.

“Hey, guys! What brings you here?” I asked, trying to calm down the waters a bit. “Lucas, here, and the rest of his stupid party, don’t understand anything! They act like they want me to be their friend, but then they treat me like garbage!” she yells at him, annoyed. “That’s not true!” Lucas tried to defend himself, but Max refuted with a simple “Yes it is!” “Is this about the AV club meetings?” I went between them, looking left and right. “Yes! They can’t stop keeping secrets from me and it’s so annoying! We’re not in 2nd grade anymore!” she shouted, very angry, making me sigh. “Okay, kids, calm down. First of all, Lucas, I really need to talk to you guys about this. Max deserves to be in the party too, okay? She’d be a great addition. Secondly…Is this about…About Will?” I ask the second question a bit quieter. “Yes, yes it is! Don’t get me wrong, I want Max in our party, but we’re 6 in our party, not only me, and I can’t decide by myself! You, me and Dustin want her, but Will is barely around anymore and Mike declines every time, because of El!” he raised his voice at me, making me smile in annoyance and sign for him to calm down. “Okay, kids, okay, I understand your problems and while I do think Max should be in our party, I think we should talk, the 6 of us…Like, have a REAL talk, because things have gone out of control these days and I wasn’t able to stay in contact with you too much because of school stuff, as you know. Now…Uhm…You should have told me Will wasn’t okay. El is not the only one like that, if you remember. I will tell Max everything that happened to us so none of you will be able to complain again.” I said sternly, looking at Lucas, who widened his eyes. “Wait, why would you do that?! We’re supposed to keep it a secret from everyone! We’re already 6 people and Will’s mum who know these things! You know how words spread! It’s a small town!” he tried to protest, worried, but I only shook my head. “I trust Max with my life and I vouch for her. She won’t spread our secrets, I’m sure of that. She just wants to be your friend, morons. Oh, Max, your brother is here. Let’s go home, shall we?” I asked her softly, leading her to the car. “Sure. Oh, and, you still stink!” she shouted past he shoulder, letting him panic there all alone. “Boys can be real jerks, huh?” I shrugged, rolling my eyes. “Don’t worry, I will show you something you’ll never forget.” “Yes, please~!” she grinned up at me until we got in front of Billy, who looked pretty annoyed. “Hey, King Billy, how are you feeling after such a glorious win? I mean, I think it was glorious, considering how relaxed you were every time you showed off so shamelessly.” I teased him, motioning to Max to get in the car. “With you cheering for me oh so pretty, what was I supposed to do?” he asked, flexing a bit. “Mind if I come over? Or are your parents home? Max asked me to chat and do some girl stuff. Is that okay with you? If not, she can come over at mine?” I smiled at him sweetly. “Awe, come on, toots, stop smiling at me like that, y'know I can’t refuse you. They ain’t home yet, you can come over. But don’t think the little twerp can have you all for herself all day.” he winked in approval, which made me hug him tightly. “Thanks, Billy! You’re the best!” I say, kissing his knuckles before rushing to the passenger’s seat. “Whoa, babe, what was that? Shouldn’t I have been the one to do that?” he asked slowly as he got in his seat, looking at me a bit weirdly. “Does it matter? I think it’s sweet no matter who does it. It was my way of thanking you.” I give him a soft smile as I lean back on my seat, closing my eyes. “Hmm…Hey, toots, can ya hold somethin’ for me?” he asked as he started the car and left the parking lot. “Of course.” I replied absent-minded.

Without realising, something warm softly lifted my hand a bit, and as I opened my eyes, I see Billy’s hand pressed to mine, his fingers intertwined with mine. He wasn’t looking at me, instead, his eyes were fixed on the road, an almost invisible blush gracing his sun-kissed cheeks, making me smile at him. I was debating whether or not I should say something or not, but I settled for just squeezing his hand a bit and turning the music volume a tad higher, which made him grin.

We sang the lyrics to the songs, which made the ride home pretty fast, like usual. When we got out of the car, Max went to my side and dragged me inside, making me chuckle at her eagerness. We both sat on her bed and she looked at me with such curious eyes that she made me want to hug her constantly.

“So, uhm…This is all gonna sound very crazy. It’s gonna be SO crazy that you will think I’m lying, but honestly, out of all those idiots, I’m the person you’ll believe and I’ll show you why, at the end.” I began, smirking a bit at her reactions. “The secret the guys hide is…Like a real life DnD campaign. With the Demogorgon and all that. I know, I know, bullshit, huh? Well, I can’t show you one YET, but by the time I grind some sense into those idiots…Well, I mean, hopefully you WON’T get to see any monster, they are super scary, but like…Basically, there’s this monster that kidnapped Will and got him in other world and uh…We found his body, but this one is the real one, and uhm…Well, we managed to get rid of the monster…I and El, more like, and the way I saw Lucas today, I think something’s happened to Will. Bad enough that maybe the monster managed to find another way here.” I took a deep breath after ranting all that out, making the girl look at me like I just said the Earth was flat. “Okay, okay…So then…Let’s say I believe you. You have no reason to lie, unless you’re schizophrenic or something. First of all, who is this El? And secondly, how did you stop the monsters?” she asked skeptically, but wanting to be proven wrong. “Well…El…El is short for Eleven. She was an experiment who managed to escape and we found her.” I explained to her with a big smile. “You expect me to believe that?” her incredulous look only made me chuckle at her. “Do you know what my real name is…Well, was, actually?” my smile turned into a smirk as soon as she shook her head. “My name was Three. Do you wanna know why?” again, her vigorous nod made me continue my story, as I pulled up my Tshirt sleeve, revealing the “3” tattoo. “Because I, too, was an experiment who managed to escape…That was 5 years ago.” I explained with a chuckle, seeing her mouth agape as she gingerly touched the tattoo. “Whoaa…And what did they do to you?” she asked again, looking as she was going to jump up and down from excitement. “What they did to me…Well, a lot of things. But that’s not the right question, Max. Y'know what the right question is~?” I teased her, before continuing. “What resulted after what they did to me~!” I smirked at her. “What happened? Did you get super powers or something?!” she screamed before I shushed her. “Do you see that notebook on the desk? Well…” I chuckled lowly before I made the notebook come into my hand. “It’s not there anymore, now, is it?” I winked at her when she started cheering and jumping on me. “OH MY GOD, THAT WAS SO COOL! DO THAT AGAIN! DO THAT AGAIN!!” she yelled excitedly, making me open her wardrobe’s door, before slamming it back and then opening the window, making her literally jump and clap at me. “THAT’S SO COOL!! WHO NEEDS WONDER WOMAN, WHEN WE HAVE YOU?! Imagine that! America’s Hero, Katrina Black, otherwise known as The Fox! Oh, look at her, she’s saving the day again! Whoooo!” she made a superhero pose, but I told her to stop in her tracks for a second. “I haven’t really used my powers in a very long time because…Well…It’s not really something you’d want to go out in the open with some people. But…Uhmm…Let me try to make you fly, or, uhm, well, float. Want that?” I asked shifting in a better position so I won’t screw up or anything. “You. Can. Do. That?!” she jaw-dropped, making me blush a bit. “Well…Kinda? Like…Just like how I managed to get the notebook, I can move you in the air. But it’s more difficult so it takes a bit of a strain, so if my eye or nose start to bleed, don’t worry, it’s normal, okay?” I assured her.

Taking a deep breath, I extend my arm towards her and focus, making her slowly raise into the air, moving her left and right as she giggled and pretended to be a superhero or that she was swimming. I couldn’t help but laugh with her, but I had to put her down before a headache would hit me and I could lose focus and drop her.

“Sorry I got you down, I was afraid I might drop you. I can do that again a bit later, if you want.” I cleared my throat, before ruffling her hair. “Is there anything else you want to hear? I should go to your brother and ask him if he’s up for some tutoring. I mean…I was supposed to give him a test yesterday, but I couldn’t come over yesterday, so I told him tomorrow…But I said that not realising tomorrow is Friday and he has a Basketball match, so that’s out of the question.” I scratch awkwardly at my neck. “Say…Do you like my brother? He’s more tolerable to be around since you appeared and…When you’re with us, he’s weirdly nice. Like…I would have never expected him to hold a girl’s hand like that. He’s such a man whore and he’s so violent! …But I guess I kinda get him, in a way. His dad is really…Really…A huge asshole.” she murmurs the last part before flinging herself down on her bad. “Do you…Want to talk about it?” I lean on my arm, petting her hair softly. “If you want to listen…Yeah. Maybe this way you’ll understand Billy better. Who knows, maybe you can tame him or something, I dunno.” she sighed, burying her face in her pillow. “You know…Billy has saved me from bullying twice since you came. And he’s been very sweet with me so far. I…I know he whores around a lot and he’s very violent…And gosh darn it, he flirts with me more than he breathes, I think…But I really appreciated that he didn’t beat up a guy when I asked him to. He had him by the throat, and I begged him not to punch him…And he didn’t.” I confess, putting my head on the pillow next to her. “Woaw…Sure that was my brother?” she chuckled, turning on her side. “Haha, yeah, I promise, it was him.” I grinned softly. “So…So, I don’t really know everything, okay? But…But Billy is afraid of Neil. He’s always screaming very aggressively at Billy and it can’t be a recent thing. And I think he sometimes hits him too. He can’t accept my mum as his mum, which I can understand, but he hasn’t had someone in his life who has been as nice as you are since his mother left him.” she explained, smiling sadly. “Well…To be fair, I was expecting something like that. Childhood trauma usually manifests in two ways…Either like me, or like him. But…But I think…Maybe I can somehow handle this.” I brought her into a hug, which she reciprocated. “He’s been a part of my life all this time and I don’t know him as something more than a violent guy…But can you help him? I know it’s a lot to ask, but…” she trailed off, not knowing what to say. “Don’t worry, Maxi, I will see what I can do. I’m kinda stuck with him the whole year whether I like it or not, so I won’t let him get worse than he is.” I giggled at her, but before she could say anything, the door opened, revealing Billy, his shirt halfway unbuttoned. “There’s so much love in only one room, but what 'bout lil’ ol’ me~?” he slurred in a supposedly sexy way, leaning on the door. “Billy! Remember how yesterday I was supposed to give you that test, but I couldn’t come over? Like, I said I would give it to you tomorrow, but I didn’t realise tomorrow is your match and…And like, you have to celebrate your victory, so I won’t stress you with a test, clearly. But like, you want to take it today, or do you want on Sunday?” I ranted on as I got on the edge of the bed, but before soon, he just chuckled and picked me up bridal style. “Let’s take that test. I’ve been staring at your lips all day, Kitten, and today I’m even more motivated to find out their taste.” he laughed, getting me to his room and gently pulling me on the bed. “Are you sure, Billy? There’s no rushing…I mean, you can have a few days more to revise…And this chapter is not the easiest one, so I won’t blame you.” I smiled nervously, looking away. “Nahhh, s'okay. I was prepared for the one yesterday, so bring it on.” he told me with the most confident smirk in the world, as he sit down on his desk chair. “Okay, so uhm…Yesterday I stood after class with Mrs. Green to create the test for you in a way that it would be structured the same as the final exam is, which is why I couldn’t come over. But…Here you go. You can write in your notebook and I will correct it afterwards, I have the point-grading right here. I’m asking again, Billy - Are you absolutely sure you’re up for it?” I asked him for the millionth time, putting the test in front of him. “Yes, babe, I am. I’m a man of my word. Responsibility and Respect.” he muttered, scanning the test paper. “That sounded a bit robotic…But I won’t ask you about it now. Good luck and focus. You have 2 hours from…Now.” I told him, getting on the bed and doing some improvements to the project.

Two hours passed by faster than the blink of an eye, making me get up and go to Billy, patting him on the shoulder and telling him that time was up. He looked at me since we were about the same height with him sitting down, and in his eyes I could see a certain…Restlessness. Like a fight of emotions was going on, but he didn’t know what to do. I blinked at him twice before cupping his face and frowning.

“Are you okay, sweety? You look upset. Did something happen?” I said in the most gentle voice I could managed. “It’s nothin’, babe, don’t worry for nothin’. Go check my test and tell me if I’m worthy of you or not.” he grumbled, puling away from me. “Billy…If you want, I won’t look and you can retake is on Sunday. It’s okay if you fail from time to time, it’s not the end of the world, you can always try again later.” I try to reach out to him, raking my fingers through his soft hair. “Nah, babe, failing isn’t manly, it’s for pussies. I can’t afford that.” he sneered, gripping his hands into tight fists. “That’s not true, who told you that? To fail is human and it can happen to everyone. It’s not a masculinity meter!…Billy, look at me, please…Billy. Please.” I pleaded again, putting my arms around his neck, but he only got up and went away. “That’s what he always said, okay? So what the hell else am I supposed to fucking DO?! If I don’t listen, I’m fucked! That’s how it’s ALWAYS fucking been! But you wouldn’t get it, would you?! Your parents probably bought you that house so you could stay alone and study at your leisure, their pretty little treasure, and you could fuck everyone you wanted there and nobody would say anything! Why the hell are you even here?! Huh?! It’s only 'cause of that teacher, ain’t it?! And 'cause I’ve always been the idiot to save your weak and pathetic ass! Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if you DID boast that you fucked me!” he raged around the room like an angry tiger in his cage, trapped. “Wh-What do you even know about my life…?” I managed to usher softly, as tears welled up in my eyes and I backed towards to wall opposite of him. “Well, fuck, Katrina, I don’t know, it seems like after today, I know absolutely NOTHING! Care to fucking enlighten me? Care to tell me why are you the high school’s fucking whore?!” he yelled, stomping towards me, which only made me glue myself to the wall, sobbing. “I-I’m not…I’m…Not…I…I…” I choke out, but since I couldn’t say anything coherent, Billy slammed his hands on either side of my face, trapping me, screaming “WHORE” in my face, which made cower and shield my face with my arms. “Don’t hurt me! Please, please, please, don’t hurt me! I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry, please don’t hurt me! I promise I’ll be good, please, don’t hurt me!” I barely managed to squeak out between my sobs, my legs shaking like mad and I could barely breathe.

My ears were ringing from the silence in the room, save for my pitiful sobs, flashbacks flooding my head so much that my throat and lungs were burning like a wild fire. After what felt like hours, he slowly guided me the bed, making me sit down, and by instinct, I let myself fall down and started unbuttoning my shirt, with trembling hands. I didn’t even dare look up to meet his face, but his hands gripped my wrists all of a sudden, which made me meekly raise my gaze a bit and see he was frowning, but somehow, confused.

“What are you doing?” he asked in a low, somehow dead-pan voice. “It’s what you want, isn’t it? Rather than doing it by force, just do it with no violence. I told you I won’t bother struggling, it’s meaningless anyways.” I whispered softly, biting my lip. “Did I say I wanted to fuck you right now?” he sat down on the bed as I cringed at his question, only shaking my head slightly. “Then why did you do this?” he asked, but since he saw I wasn’t answering, he continued. “I’m not mad, I’m not going to hurt you, ever, so just answer.” “I’m sorry I upset you…I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to.” I whispered as he lifted me into a sitting position. “You’re the only one who puts up with me, and if you got angry at me, I deserve it. I’m sorry, so please, don’t get angry at me and leave.” I continued, closing my eyes. “Kat, come here.” he patted his thighs, motioning me to sit on his lap, which I did, but I still wouldn’t look at him. “Kat, look at me.” he said softly, putting his hands on my face, as I previously did to him. “Who hurt you so much, Kat? Tell me. I’m not angry at you and I won’t leave you, either.” he uttered, trying to calm me down. “I…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you or said those things to you. I know they were lies, but I got frustrated. I should apologise, not you.” he confessed, making me look at him with glistening eyes, shaking my head briefly. “Kat, tell me. Please.” he whispered in my ear, making me start to cry again and throw my arms around his torso, crying in his chest, still trembling slightly. “I don’t know, Billy, I don’t know! It’s always been this way! I don’t get it, what did I do wrong? Why does everyone hate me? Do I look that weird? Is my personality that garbage? I-I don’t understand!” I began, feeling him rub soothing circles on my back. “I never had a family, Billy! I’m a runaway freak! I ran from an experimental base 5 years ago! I didn’t even have a name, I was just a number for them! And…And I ran here, and a policeman found me and put me in an orphanage under a name that I made up! Katrina Black, not Three anymore! And…And when I got with my new family, it was no difference than in the orphanage! Always the same thing! Nobody wanted me, I was just a waste of time and I did nothing good to contribute to my family!” I managed to say, clutching his shirt tightly. “Shhh, it’s okay now, Kitten, I’m here.” he whispered in my ear kissing my head. “Don’t be afraid.” “I worked a lot for 4 years, and with the policeman’s help, I managed to get my own little house and a motorbike. Not the perfect family anymore, huh?” I tried to laugh, but it came out more as a choke. “And…And…I…I just…I just wanted my Happily Ever After, Billy…I…I didn’t want to be alone anymore…They faked it…They faked everything just to fool around with me…They pretended to love and care about me…They pretended that they were good and protective boyfriends…But by the time I realised that what was happening wasn’t normal, it was too late and the damage had already been done. And I can’t erase it no matter how hard I try…” I put my hands in my hair, pulling at it in desperation. “I just want to forget all the disgusting things that happened, all the lies I heard, all those hands on my skin…I told you so many times before, no matter how much you struggle, it doesn’t do any good. Well, now you know the story behind it.” as I said that, he gently pulled away my hands and made me raise my head up again, and I could see anger and sadness in his eyes…He, too, seemed to want to cry, but tried very hard to stop it. “Tell me who did this to you and I’ll kill them. I’ll get revenge on them for you. If you couldn’t get out, neither will they.” he growled, looking me in the eyes, but I only shook my head and hugged his neck. “Don’t…Don’t go…Don’t leave…Don’t bother…What’s done is done. Yeah, of course, he only fucked me once, did other super gross things, whatever and now I’m somehow the biggest whore of the high school, whatever. Hey, really, I somehow magically fucked you in your sleep, or something, hell if I know. And if that wasn’t enough, after that first guy, two more came by. 'Know what happened?” I looked at him with a self-deprecating laugh, making him motion for me to continue talking. “The first one made me realise what happened wasn’t okay. Thing is, I told him I wasn’t interested in any fucks. What he did? The next day he started asking me about what positions I liked and stuff. And the next thing I know, he realised that I’m not a virgin, but he is, and says something along the lines of…How did he say it, now…Ah, yes. 'Why do the bad guys always get the good stuff?’. Yeah, like, thanks mate, very smart.” I rolled my eyes, every word completely dripping with sarcasm. “I kinda like it when you finally talk from your heart and you’re not scared of everything around you.” Billy said with a small smirk. “Well, then maybe you should love me by now. The third guy was very sympathetic with me and supposedly very protective of me. Turned out he was high-key flirting with my then-friend, making out/fucking her, all whilst continuing to insult me, but never letting me break up with him. He was a notorious liar. The biggest liar in the world, I kid you not.” I snorted bitterly. “Did they beat you?” he asked in a very low voice. “No…But…They would get overly possessive and jealous and would argue with me big time. It’s not like I have many friends, y'know? Just the kids. And Jonathan Byers, kinda. They would yell at me a lot and get super moody and mean. Hell, even on my birthday. Really…Fuck off.” I scoffed slightly, pouting as I leaned back a bit. “Did you calm down, Kitten? Feeling any better after letting your feelings out?” he caressed my cheek softly, which made me look down and snort a bit, trying to stifle my giggle. “What’s goin’ on, Kitten? Why you laughing?” he asked with a soft smile. “I…Well…It might sound super weird, okay, but…But I can’t stop laughing thinking about it. Just…He…He always boasts around how much of a mess I was because of him, but, like…I literally didn’t even realise when he got inside me and when he finished, like, what the hell!” I started laughing loudly, wiping my tears with my wrists, which made Billy start laughing as well, not having expected me to say something like that. “So my little Kitten can have a sense of humour when she wants to, huh? I never expected you to say any of the words you said the whole day, I swear, you’re surprising me with each day.” he put his arms around me, hugging me tight as I put my arms around his neck and calmed down. “I know I’m a mess, and as I said a million times, I’m sorry that you have to put up with me. But, Billy, if it were after me, I’d have already given you a chance by now, but really, I’m just scared that the whole chaos is going to happen again. And I’m just so tired of everything that I don’t think I could handle another betrayal.” I confessed softly, putting my forehead to his. “I said I was gonna prove you that you’re not wasting your time, and I’m not backing up from that promise. If it’s time you need, we have all the time in the world. I won’t be a shithead again like today. I lost control and it was my fault, I’m sorry.” he promised, looking me in the eyes as he put a strand of hair behind my ear. “It’s okay, Billy. I know you have it rough too. I don’t know the details, but I can sense what’s going on. You don’t have to tell me, but I know your father is a…A douchebag. I’m sorry for using that word. But, really, it’s one more year and you’ll be free of him! You’ll have a scholarship and you’ll be studying at a cool University whatever you wish to study and…And…I…Well…Maybe…Maybe we can…Y'know…We may be able to study in a place close to each other. Maybe even the same city. Hawkins Scholarships are usually more or less addressed to certain Unis in certain states.” I said with a shy smile, which in return, made his features soften up like never before. “Sounds good to me, babe.” he said, before burying his face in my neck, holding me tight as I played with his hair, calming him. “Billy.” I called out after a few minutes, when I felt his heartbeat calm down a bit. “Would it be okay with you if I corrected your test now? Don’t worry about the result, it just means that I will have to explain some stuff better, so it’s no problem. It’s as you said, we have enough time for everything. I don’t want to hold you off for too long since tomorrow’s your match and you should sleep well.” I say gently, making him sigh and nod.

I told him to stay in bed and lean on the bed post before I got up, took the test and a red pen from my bag before hopping next to him, cuddling to his side. We corrected the test together, explaining to him each mistake he made and why it was wrong, how to address the question tasked and so on, and it seemed like he understood and he was aware of his mistakes and how to solve them. It’s true, he didn’t make it to 75%, but it wasn’t too far away from that mark. He was frustrated, but I managed to calm him down and tell him that he will definitely do better next time and that first tests are always so bad. By the time we were done, outside was pitch black and we realised it was already past 10pm, which made me bite my lip.

“It’s okay, I can walk home, it’s no big deal. Just stay here and sleep well, okay?” I smiled at him reassuringly, but he only shook his head. “Just sleep over, I’ll sleep on the floor no big deal.” he proposed, shrugging, making me gasp. “Are you insane?! You, sleep on the floor? It’s YOUR house! Damn it, Billy! I should take the floor! Well…I could sleep in Max’s room, actually.” I realised, but he shook his head. “No, no, no, I’d rather sleep outside than seeing you do either of those two. I said it before, didn’t I? She won’t have you all for herself.” he said, making me chuckle. “You could just say you wanted to sleep cuddled with me, y'know? You liked that hug more than you’d admit in your life.” I teased him with a soft smirk. “Fine, babe, y'got me. So, what band do ya want?” he asked, going to his wardrobe to look for a Tshirt for me to sleep in. “Woaw, always ready to give a girl your band Tees, huh?” I chuckled, hiding my mouth slightly. “Nah, not 'a’ girl. You. Anyone touching my band tees will get burnt.” he smirked, leaning on the door. “Flattering, Billy. D'you have AC/DC?” I asked softly. “Do I breathe air?” he asked very dramatically, throwing the Tshirt at my head, making me laugh. “Thank you. I love the design…Oh, Jesus, how much cologne and cigarettes did you have while wearing this?” I laughed, hugging it too my chest. “Too much, maybe.” he shrugged. “I’ll turn around so you can change. Don’t worry, I won’t peep. Yes, you can kill me if I do.” he chuckled as he turned around, stretching a bit, giving me enough time to change and remain into his Tshirt and lady boxers only, thanking every deity existing that he was much larger than me and the Tshirt went mid-thigh. “Okay, I’m ready. Thank you…And, uhm…This is really weird and embarrassing.” I sighed as I put my clothes neatly folded on the chair. “Ah, fuck, you’re so hot, I knew it.” he smirked, raking his fingers through his hair. “Okay, fine, my turn. But I don’t mind if you watch.” he winked at me, making me hmpf a bit as I got in bed, putting the blanket over my head. “All clear, I can’t see a thing!” I chuckled, giving him a thumbs up with my arm out of the blanket, making him sigh.

It took less than two minutes for him to snatch the blanket from my head and snatch me into his arms tightly to his chest, playing with my hair loosely. I smiled softly and snuggled to his side, feeling warm and safe in his arms and I completely ignored the fact that he was only wearing a pair of boxers. Godamn it, Billy.

With a kiss on my forehead, he muttered in a low, guttural voice a simple “Good night, Princess” before closing his eyes and going to sleep. In return, I could only smile and kiss his neck, being closest to me, and wished him “Good night, Billy” before I let sleep take over my senses.

Chapter 1 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

@klassickb

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marionettejonesdraws · 6 years ago

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Kacchako Positivity Week Day1: Fragile

Ah~ Finally got over my anxiety and finished this piece. Then I spent a few more hours writing a fic to explain the situation. I end up doing that for other pieces too I guess.

Do not repost

If you like my work, please buy me a ko-fi. I need to upgrade my laptop(so many bugs). And I do need a new scanner. I want to make big A3 pieces! Coz details!!! Also making a custom drawing table with lightbox. Extra funds would be really helpful with my restart on illustration. OuO/ Cheers

Introductions~ the ones not explained on the Roses piece anyway.

Todoroki as runaway dragon prince, will drink a bar dry. Aizawa's as fae clergyman under the Church of Ibara, might die if he manages to finish that mug. Kiri and Sero as human mercenaries. Jiro as fae bard. Mina fell asleep waiting for Ochako to come back after running off with a stranger. Toru as light fae bar maid, decorates the pies and everything else. Dabi as the missing dragon prince currently working for the Ones Cursed by the Sun. Toga as bloodsucking demon also working with Dabi. They like the food here.

Storytime~

If anyone would ask, some would say that nothing is as fragile as the Thorn Prince's ego. But they would be wrong. It hasn't been true for many years now. Some would say it is the Rose Princess since she's been confined to the castle all her life. That too is just a common guess. It is something not many would expect--a secret kept from the plebians, the knights, and even the nobles. That seemingly endless sky forms it's first crack, because of a chance meeting? What does the future hold for these two young lords, and how will they mold it?

This scene: (Sorry for the messy construction. I'm really sleepy.)

Katsuki and Ochako are just coming back to the tavern after spending quite a lot of time having fun finding out more about each other. Iida and Kirishima run in and abruptly grab hold of their respective lords to separate them. "I, Knight of Rose Tenya Iida, in response to your violence against the Princess, have a duty to imprison you. Surrender or face worse punishment!" Tenya declares while drawing his sword.

BK: Princess? Oy! You didn't tell me about that. What's the big deal? (taking a big step forward)

Kiri: Hey, stop. Where did you run off to anyway? You two have been gone for 4 hours. This guy kept threatening to run you through! And goddamn, he runs fast.

Ochako: I thought that if you knew, you'd treat me differently.

BK: Differently? What would YOU do if you found out that I am a demon prince?

Ochako: Eh?!

Kiri: He's no- (gets punched)

BK: Let go already! (Points thumb on self)I am Prince Katsuki Bakugou of the Thorns.

Ochako: (trying to get past Iida's arm) It doesn't matter to me, one bit. We were having so much fun swinging swords on the rooftops. I don't want to miss a chance to make friends with someone so skilled!

Iida: gasp* How dare you swing your sword at such a fragile girl?

Ochako/BK: I'm/She's not fragile!

Iida: Regardless, you shouldn't mingle with demons without charm markings. They're dangerously unpredictable. Don't you know how quickly they turn into beast at the slight smell of blood?

Kiri: That's nonsense! I've been living with demons for a few years now. I've bled from sword training, yet I have never been attacked.

Iida: Silence! It doesn't apply to you,dragon. (swinging his sword very close to Kiri's face and pulling it back to a defensive position)

BK: Point your sword at him again, and I'd cut that arm off!

Kiri: Hey, no harm done. Let's just go home. (turning to face BK, ready to fly him off)

Iida: Monsters like you just bring disquiet and adversity. Do you even know your place in this country, demon?

Ochako: Don't say such awful things! Those accusations are simply untrue. (Still trying to get past Iida) You can't keep being like this to them. It's just one demon who-

Iida: You, how many times have I told you to stay away from trouble! (Pulling her cloak and pushing her back a few feet) We will go back to the castle this instant.

Bakugou shoves Kiri aside not leaving his glare on the knight. "For someone so large, you sure carry a small sword."

Iida: It's so I can fight in narrow spaces to prote-

"I'm not talking about that metal stick, you self righteous brick." BK huffs, walking closer. "You smell of fear. Someone with as weak a heart as yours can't protect Ochako."

Kiri rushes between them, lines growing on his face as he prepared to match BK's strenght. "Calm down. Calm down! We don't want trouble. We're just going home, right?" Kiri turns to face Iida to apologize but was met with the tip of his blade. He jumped back, pushing BK behind him. Bakugou's eyes turned to slits, markings tearing out of his eyes and cheeks, "You really got on my nerves, but this is different. I'm going to fucking kill you!" Kirishima barely stopped BK from pulling his sword out, eyes enlarged as he struggles to hold down his friend.

The surge of demonic aura flung open Iida's shield. "Iida, put down your sword!" Ochako pleaded as she tried to pull down his arm. "I command you! Put down your sword!"

Iida: If it's my blood you want then come get it!

BK: I'm not just going for blood. I'm going to fucking devour you!!!

Mina rushes out of the tavern, woken up by BK's demonic aura. "What's happening here? It's dangerous to let your power loose. If Iida finds out."

Ochako: Mina! Help me stop Iida. He's going to get himself killed.

Kiri: Mina? What are you doing here?

Mina was startled to see both the princess and her childhood friend, but upon looking farther she froze. 'He's the prince. The Thorn Prince!' At that very moment her instincts forced her to grovel.

Iida was taken aback: Mina what are you doing. Get up!

Mina: Lord Bakugou, please spare my idiotic companion! He is just doing his duty.

BK: He pointed his sword at my friend. Twice!

Mina: He's just very verbal with his hands, my Lord.

BK: What does that even mean, pink hair? This guy has been running his mouth about us demons. Am I supposed to just let that go?

Iida: If there is a witness, then it is true isn't it?

Ochako: It was just one demon! Pleaaase, put down your sword.

Kiri legs are starting to tremble against BK's weight. "Stop, Bakugou! The sun is setting!!!"

BK: Not till I take his head!

Mina shouts even louder hoping that they'd acknowledge her. "Take mine instead! Both of you, take my horns. I can't let my Lord and my companion fight each other over such trivial things! If anyone should be punished it should be me. I let her out of the castle and left her to roam unaccompanied. It's my fault!!!"

BK can't stand being ordered around, but this demon was adamant in her plea. "Who is your master, pink hair?"

Mina: I am Princess Ochako's servant my Lord.

BK: And who is this obscenely judgemental man to you?

Mina: A work companion who is dearly beloved to the princess. He is like a brother to her.

BK looks over to Ochako, still pulling Iida's arm back in the verge of tears: Tsk... Kirishima we're going home.

Kirishima almost fell forward as the weight against him disappeared. "Thank goodness." He bends over to Mina to help her up. "Hey, I'm glad to see you again."

Mina wrapped her arms around him. "Wow, you really changed." Kiri hugs her back, "Yeah."

BK from high up shouting: Stop exchanging looks. The sun's almost gone. Mom's gonna kill me!

Kiri: What are you saying? Geez. See you later, Mina. You gonna be here tomorrow?(unfolding his wings)

Mina: I'll send you a bird.

Kiri: Aww yiss! Bye~

Mina and Ochako watched them fly off into the sunset as Iida sheathes his sword.

Ochako gave a sigh of relief, her hands still trembling in Mina's. Iida grabbed on to Ochako's arm. "It's about time we go too. Pick up your things." He tried saying it as softly as he can with his strained breath.

Mina threw a loud slap across Iida's face. "What was that? How dare you! You put our lady in danger because of your personal vendetta? You go to the barracks on your own! We'll take a carriage."

Ochako's tears started to flow. "Mina, please don't be mean to him. He was just trying to protect me."

"No. That was just him being a jerk. He must have unnecessarily provoked the Prince. You saw how nice that guy is."

"But... but... *hnnggg*" Ochako buried her face into Iida's chest. "I thought you were gonna die! Stop starting fights. I was so scared. What if you leave me too? What will I do? I'm not powerful enough to save you yet." Her legs finally gave in after a whole day of running about. Iida caught her and lifted her up. "Tenya, promise me you'd stay safe."

Her expression was too much for Iida. He can't bare looking at her so he hugged her tightly, his head resting on her shoulder. "I'll do my best to keep this promise."

Mina is annoyed, but her lady needed to be reassured. "Fine~ We'll all ride the carriage."

They already left~

Todoroki: Well that's unexpected.

Aizawa: Urgh What farce. To think they'd actually meet. This is going to be troublesome.

Todoroki chugging down another mug: The aura he released isn't even a portion of his real power.

Aizawa: With luck, the charms on his body will restrain him till he is able to control it.

Todo: I think I can handle him easily. For now~

Aizawa takes a sip: Have you noticed the darkness lingering about them while they went around town?

Todo: You mean, aside from you? (Aizawa looking a bit annoyed.) Not till just a while ago. They got drawn to him when he let loose.

Aizawa: sigh~ What was the queen thinking? Doing this so close to the ceremony?

Todo: She loves her son. (Raises hand to get another mug.

Aizawa: A bit too much.

Todo: Cheers (clunk)

Aizawa: For the blue sky.

Todo: And the blue sea.

#kacchakopositivityweek #kacchako #ochako uraraka #bakugou katsuki #bnha #mjdraws #kirishima eijiro #mina ashido #iida tenya #aizawa shota #todoroki shoto #dabi #toga himiko #hakagure toru #jiro kyoka #sero hanta #kaminari denki

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sassylavellen · 7 years ago

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Got bored. Decided to answer these.

1: Which origin did you first choose? My first was the human noble origins. Sophia Cousland was my first and favorite Warden.

2: Which origin is your favourite? I think the City Elf origin. I mean I HATE the whole Shianni-gets-raped bit, but I think most of the others are just a little by-the-numbers. Not saying they’re bad by any means, but the City Elf origin makes you feel a lot of things, and it’s not afraid to address some difficult situations.

3: Do you have multiple Grey Wardens/playthroughs or just one? I have one of each!

4: If you have more multiple Grey Wardens, are they in different/ parallel universes or in the same one? They all exist (or rather, existed) in the same universe to me, but the only three who lived to go on the adventure were Sophia Cousland, Gillan Mahariel, and Tara Tabris.

5: Did your Warden want to become a Grey Warden? Sophia absolutely did! Gillan didn’t want to, but she knew she had to if she was going to live with the blight caused by the mirror. Tara was VERY opposed to the idea, but she came around to accepting the role.

6: Does your Warden regret becoming a Grey Warden? Sophia does. Gillan does not. Tara dies a proud Warden.

7: What was your Warden’s first impression of Duncan? Sophia was intrigued and impressed by him. Gillan was a little afraid of him, but she soon found out he was a good man and was very respectful of him. Tara didn’t like him, but as the journey went on, she began to look back and realize he really did save her life.

8: Do they still feel the same about Duncan as they did before the Joining? Gillan does. Sophia and Tara were a little shaken by the joining, but they both agreed that what he did, he had to.

9: What was your Warden’s first impression of Alistair? Sophia liked him. She could see he was a kindred spirit and loved his sass. Gillan appreciated the sass, but she was a little disappointed when Alistair did not want to be a leader. In her mind, he had the most experience with the Wardens so he should have lead, regardless of how well he could lead. Tara just didn’t care. Alistair was annoying to her.

10: Do they still feel the same about Alistair? Sophia and Gillan both regard Alistair as a dear friend. For a time, Gillan and Alistair had a thing for one another, but it never went too far. Alistair couldn’t be with her once he became king, and while she was upset by it, Gillan knew it was the right decision. Tara did end up liking Alistair, even if they never became close friends.

11: What was your Warden’s first impression of Morrigan? Sophia was *slightly* intrigued. Gillan was slightly afraid of her, and Tara was suspicious of her.

12: What do they think of Morrigan now? Sophia no longer trusts her, but in a sad way. She and Morrigan had been becoming friends right before the end, but then she tried to make her convince Alistair to sleep with her for the ritual, and Sophia almost agreed. Once she confronted Alistair, she couldn’t bring herself to make him do it. After that, Morrigan left and Sophia felt betrayed. Gillan was not involved in this exchange, but was shocked when Sophia told her. After the blight, she did try to track Morrigan down. No one knows for sure what happened, but Gillan did admit she did find her, but their reunion did not end well.

13: What was your Warden’s first impression of Leliana? Sophia immediately felt a connection with her. Gillan was a little creeped out by her “The Maker sent me” excuse, and Tara didn’t want her to join.

14: What do they think of Leliana now? Sophia and Leliana are married now. Gillan is a close friend to them both. At the end, Tara warmed up to her.

15: What was your Warden’s first impression of Sten? Gillan was terrified of him at first. Sophia and Tara were both intrigued.

16: What are your Warden’s thought on Sten now? Gillan is still a tiny bit afraid of him, but she likes him none the less. Sophia has a deep respect for him.

17: What was your Warden’s first impression of Wynne? Sophia and Tara only saw her as an old woman. Gillan respected her the way she respected a wise elder of her own clan.

18: What does your Warden think about Wynne now? Sophia still sees her as an old woman, but in a loving way. Gillan stayed about the same.

19: What was your Warden’s first impression of Zevran? None of them trusted him. But Sophia decided to show mercy and recruit him. Tara was extremely weary of him.

20: What does your Warden think of Zevran now? Sophia and Gillan see him as a dear friend, even if they haven’t spoken to him in years.

21: What was your Warden’s first impression of Oghren? Sophia thought he was funny. Gillan didn’t like him. Tara sympathized with him.

22: What are your Warden’s thoughts on Oghren now? Sophia and Gillan see him like an old drunk uncle. While they weren’t the closest of friends, Oghren respected Tara more than he admitted and even named his daughter in loving memory of her.

23: What was your Warden’s first impression of Shale? None of them knew what to think of her.

24: What does your Warden think of Shale now? None of them still knew what to think of her. Sophia felt like she was starting to understand her though.

25: What was your Warden’s first impression of Loghain? Sophia had grown up hearing the stories of Loghain and the battles he fought against the Orlesians and looked up to him as a sort of hero. Gillan saw him as just another human in charge, but she got a bad vibe from him. Tara hated him on principle.

26: What are your Warden’s thoughts on Loghain now? Sophia’s entire world was thrown into disarray when Loghain betrayed the King and the Wardens. Gillan was shocked, but perhaps not surprised. Tara was just upset that she was right.

27: What does your Warden think about the Mabari war dog? How did your Warden name the Mabari that joins you when you head for Lothering? Chupacabra was Sophia’s childhood pet and she loved him more than anything (at least until she met Leliana). Gillan was initially suspicious of him, since the closest thing she had to associate with him was tales of the Dread Wolf. But soon she grew to love him. Tara saw him as just an animal, but a useful and cool animal.

28: What does your Warden think of Flemeth? Sophia was slightly afraid of her. Gillan, surprisingly, was intrigued by her because she had heard the tales of Asha’bellenar. Tara didn’t care.

29: What is your Warden’s favourite color? Sophia: Violet. Gillan: Blue. Tara: Lime Green.

30: What is your Warden’s favourite food? Sophia: Homebaked bread. Gillan: Soups. Tara: Chicken.

31: How old is your Warden? At the start of their journeys Sophia is 18 (almost 19), Gillan just turned 25, and Tara is 36 but turns 37 during the adventure.

32: What is your Warden’s gender identity (this does not have to match gender chosen in the character creator, of course!) all three are Female

33: What is your Warden’s romantic/sexual orientation? Sophia is a lesbian, Gillan and Tara are straight.

34. Does your Warden end up with one of the companions in any way? Sophia and Leliana fell deeply for one another. Gillan and Alistair had a budding relationship, but it didn’t go too far before they mutually agreed it had to end so he could be king. While Zevran (and even a drunk Oghren) hit on her, Tara did not indulge in anything sexual.

35: Is your Warden a warrior/rogue/mage? Sophia trained as a warrior, Gillan trained as an archery-based rogue, and Tara was a duel-wielding rouge.

36: What is your Warden’s weapon of choice? Sophia used a sword and shield (sometimes duel swords). Gillan used her trusty bow, and Tara had two favorite daggers she named Wrath and Justice.

37: What are your Warden’s specializations? Sophia specialized as a champion, Gillan as a ranger, and Tara as a bard.

38: What are some of your Warden’s strenghts? Sophia: Persuasion, Gillan: Stealth, Tara: Intimidation.

39: What are some of your Warden’s weaknesses? Sophia: Over-confidence, Gillan: Fear, Tara: Trust issues

40: Your favourite companion? Leliana

41: Your Warden’s favourite companion? Sophia: Leliana, Gillan: Alistair, Tara: Sten

42: What is your Warden’s biggest secret? Sophia and Gillan didn’t keep secrets from their companions. Tara, however, tried to keep her whole life a secret and refused to talk about it. After the ordeal with the Broken Circle, Gillan saw a glimpse into Tara’s deepest repressed desires as well as her deepest fears. Knowing Gillan saw it, she did confess to her and to Sophia that all she wanted was to have a happy family, but all chances of it had been taken from her. She had been pregnant, but had a miscarriage, her mother was taken and killed by humans, her cousin Shianni (who was almost like a daughter to her) was raped by humans, and her journey with the Wardens was taking her away from Shianni and her father. She was bitter towards the world because she didn’t know how to cope with this loss.

43: What is your Warden’s biggest regret? I don’t think Tara had any regrets at the end, and I don’t really think Gillan did either, but Sophia is a different story. The three of them drew straws to decide who would have to sacrifice herself to slay the dragon (if Riordan didn’t kill it). Sophia drew the short straw, and when the moment came, she was too afraid to die. Tara, after growing to accept and befriend her, took pitty on her and took her place. To this day, Sophia has nightmares reliving this moment and lives the rest of her life with survivor’s guilt.

44: Can your Warden read very well? Do they like reading? Sophia was raised with the best education in Highever, and would read a good book every so often. Tara was partially illiterate, but could make out most of the words. Gillan on the other hand is a total bookworm and LOVES reading.

45: What does your Warden do in their spare time/off-duty? Honestly, Gillan is either reading or drawing in her spare time. Sophia spends time with Leliana when she’s not traveling. Tara used to work with the merchants in the alienage.

46: Are your Warden’s parents still alive? Sophia’s parents are both dead. Gillan’s father is for sure dead, but her mother abandoned her shortly after she was born. She has no idea if her mother is still alive, but she likes to think she’s out there somewhere. Tara’s mother is dead, but her father is alive and well.

47: Did your Warden have a good relationship with their parents? Sophia had a decent enough relationship with her father, but a strained relationship with her mother, who did not approve of her sexual preferences or her training as a warrior. Gillan never knew her parents. Tara had a very close and very loving relationship with both her parents.

48: Does your Warden have any siblings (in canon or headcanon, it’s all ok!) Sophia has a brother, Fergus. Gillan and Tara have no siblings (as far as Gillan knows, it is possible her mother is still alive and has other children, but Gillan has no way of knowing).

49: Is your Warden religious? (Chantry/Dalish belief/Tevinter belief/something else) Gillan and Tara are not particularly religious, but Sophia is Andastrian.

50: What does your Warden like most about themselves? Tara likes her hair, because it reminds her of her mother. Gillan can’t look at herself that way, she’s not very confident in herself. Sophia loves her own muscles. (Even though she’s not my buffest OC, that award goes to Evelyn Lavellan lol)

51: What is something other people like about your Warden? People love that Sophia is generous and very much a people’s person, always on the side of the little people. People like Gillan’s quiet wisdom and rational thinking. While most people don’t like how bitter Tara can be, they do respect her fearlessness.

52: Is your Warden introverted or extroverted? (or somewhere in between?) Sophia is extroverted, Gillan is EXTREMELY introverted, Tara is in between.

53: Does your Warden enjoy nature? All three love it. Well I guess maybe Tara tolerates it.

54: What did your Warden think of Lothering? Sophia was heartbroken about their plight. Gillan had no real connection to humans prior to this, and she hadn’t gotten to know the humans on her team yet, but she still felt bad for them. Tara only saw more sadness and more oppression and felt like nothing changed.

55: What did your Warden think of the problem in the Brecilian Forest? How did they solve it? Gillan more or less lead this expedition and the others followed her lead. She managed to resolve it peacefully, even though Tara wanted her to kill the werewolves.

56: What did your Warden think of the problem at the Circle of Magi? How did they solve it? Gillan’s deepest darkest fear is demons, and she was TERRIFIED of the Circle’s problems. While she was somewhat traumatized by the events of the quest, she did stand up and face her fears when all her friends were taken by the sloth demon. She was taken into the fade and she fought her way to her friends and single-handedly rescued them. In the end, they saved the mages.

57: What did your Warden think of the problem at Redcliffe? How did they solve it? At this point in the journey, Tara still was distrustful of humans and she thought it was bullshit. Sophia had been to Redcliffe several times as a child, and wanted to save the town and Conor. Gillan was along for the ride, but agreed mostly with Sophia.

58: What did your Warden think of the problem in Orzammar? How did they solve it? OH GOD I HATED ORZAMMAR AND THE DEEP ROADS SO THEREFORE THEY HATE IT TOO. And they make Harrowmount King.

59: What did your Warden think of the Landsmeet? How did they solve it? Sophia lead them in the Landsmeet, and they resolved it mostly peacefully. She still had to duel Loghain.

60: Who does your Warden put on the throne? Alistair.

61: Your favourite NPC? Shianni

62: Your favourite main quest? Nature of the Beast

63: Your favourite side quest? The one where you find Sten’s sword.

64: Your favourite DLC quest? Does Awakening count? If not, I guess Leliana’s Song (mostly because that’s like the only other DLC I have for Origins)

65: Have you installed any mods? None. I only have the games for xbox360 and PS4.

66: Did your Warden make use of Morrigan’s offer right before the battle against the Archdemon/the Blight? No.

67: If your Warden could go back in time to change one thing, what would they change? Sophia would have slain the dragon instead of Tara. Would it have been a better outcome? No one really knows. Gillan would have stayed with Alistair no matter what scandal would have become of it.

68: Can your Warden sing and/or dance? While she’s not as talented as Leliana, Sophia can sing. Tara can dance, but she’d never dance in front of any of her companions. Gillan can carry a tune, but not very well.

69: Do you have any headcanons about your Warden that are not/go against canon? Sophia is left-handed. I already kinda shared the one about Tara having a miscarriage. I also headcanon that Gillan becomes a Grey Warden researcher working in a library in Weisaupt.

70: On a scale from 1-10, with 10 being the highest score possible, how much of a Dragon Age fan are you? For sure an 11.

original question post here

#Dragon Age #My OCs #Sophia Cousland #Gillan Mahariel #Tara Tabris

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