#jaskier is human. just slightly to the left

[ultralightpoe]

Spellbound Part 3- Geralt of Rivia

Authors Note: Y'ALL I AM SO SORRY! I thought I scheduled it and I do monthly breaks from all social media! Omg I really screwed y'all over! I AM SO SO SO SO SO SORRY. How can I make it up birdies?

Word Count: 3093

Description: Part One and Part Two

Warnings: Heavy smuttt y'all

Enjoy!

Before Geralt had lost his entire life he was told as a child that there was always a beginning, middle and end. And though most people always thought that this merely pertained to stories his parents always told him that they belonged to humans too.

Every human had a beginning, middle and end.

Every monster had a beginning.

Every Saint had a beginning.

But none of them mattered right now, because all Geralt could think of right now was you. Your beginning, middle and end. He wanted to know more of your story more than he ever had before. 

You had both settled down at a rundown inn, him covering his hair and you covering the bruises someone had left on your neck. The innkeeper, a straggly old lady that could barely turn to grab the key to the rooms, barely cast either of you a glance. 

You kept close to him as you both made your way up the stairs, and Geralt was embarrassed to admit that a surge of pride crossed through him at this. You seek his warmth and protection, and he would give it. He would give you anything you wanted. 

Yennifer had left as soon as she could, saying that she would be going to find Jaskier and letting him know they found you. 

Geralt would keep you with him in the inn, per Jaskiers request. The bard pretends to worry about you with all the traveling, claiming that it would be best if he came to the two of you. Geralt saw the lie, he just could not give a shit. 

Instead he started a fire, setting you in front of it and mumbling that he would be right back. You snatch to grab his upper arm when he moves to leave, but he merely nods, letting you know it is okay to let go. So you do, swiping your fingers under your eyes quickly, but it was too late and he had already seen the tears.

He makes the trip quick, buying you warmer clothes and heading back and ordering some hot stew from the innkeeper, heading back to the room when she tells him she will bring it. 

You are right where he left you when he comes back in, this time a little closer to the fire and curled up a little tighter. Geralt, who had always struggled to sneak around, tried to lighten his footsteps as he neared you. 

“I brought some fresh clothes. How about a bath and a change?” He asks, his voice scratchy from lack of use, but he does his best to keep it gentle. 

You shake your head, the slightest of movement that somehow managed to clench his heart in his chest. “I’m too tired.”

“Allow me.” He whispers, holding out his hand for you. 

“Allow you?”

“To bathe you.”

“You would do that?” You smile, the beginning of a laugh climbing up your throat at the thought. 

“It would be my honor.” His tone makes it sound like he is teasing, but there is nothing but seriousness behind that comment. 

“You won’t jest?”

“Never.”

And at the simple touch of your fingers reaching up to his own has his skin on fire, shaking slightly as he helps your stand, shuffling to the bathroom and leading you to the center of the room and turning to heat the bottom of the tub with fire as he waits for you to get undressed 

But when he turns back to you he finds you waiting patiently, still in the gaudy thin dress, watching slowly. 

You seem fazed out now, eyes shuttering as you reach to him and begin untying his own shirt. A moment of startlement crosses him before he reaches a hand up and stops you by grasping your own in his larger palms. He rubs softly as he tries to relax you, shaking his head. 

“Not me. You.”

“You, with me.”

“I do not want to-”

“I don’t wanna be exposed alone.” It’s then that Geralt knows what you mean. You don’t want to be the only one naked and vulnerable. So he would join you. Anything for you. 

He turns to undress as you undress yourself, and once he hears you get into the tub he turns himself, his heart stopping in his chest at the sight of you. 

Your breasts are just barely covered by the water, and within that moment you managed to tie your hair up with a leather scrap, exposing the bruised neck and collarbone . In this moment you looked broken, and still astonishingly beautiful. It wasn’t fair. 

He takes a moment to climb in, and suddenly he feels the stress from the last few months beginning to fade from his body as he nears you, sitting across from you knee to knee. 

Silence fills the room, and Geralt stresses to find something to say as you lean forward to rest your forehead on his knee. 

“Turn around so I can wash your hair.” He whispers, allowing you room to do so and beginning to work on your hair with the soap. “My parents used to tell me stories.”

“About kings and dragonslayers?”

“No, about monsters.” 

“How so?”

“They used to tell me that the saints and the monsters of the world all had stories of their own, that everyone you come across has a beginning, middle and end.” 

You turn slightly to watch him, and he does his best to seem relaxed. 

“I spent most of my time stressed in impressing and protecting you.” He whispers. “I was gruff, which I do with most people. Keeping you and everyone else at arm's length.”

“I’m trying to see how this relates, witcher.”

“I want to know your story, I want to know your beginning and middle and I am desperate to be with you until the end.”

“Why would you want to know all of that?”

“I have found that, even with you mad at me, that I am nothing in this world without you.”

“I will tell you everything if you tell me everything.”

—------------

You fall asleep listening to him whisper the same stories his parents once told you, rubbing your hair softly as you keep your nose shoved into his chest. 

You awake around midnight screaming, it takes Gerat a couple minutes to calm you down before he moves to start another fire, bringing you closer to it for warmth and letting you lay in front of it. 

The days follow as this, staying by the fire in the cold winter air, whispering back and forth. Eating the stew and roasts the innkeeper made. 

You tell him about your life, and he tells you about yours. 

Finally you ask. 

“Shouldn’t you be out there? Working for the people?” Your head is laid out on his thigh as he watches the snow fall from the window. “I have never known you to sit still, Geralt.”

His heart lurches at the sound of his name falling from your lips. “I have spent the past few weeks working…..for you.”

“What do you mean?” You ask quickly, lifting your head from his thigh, eyes traveling his scarred abdomen before landing to his eyes. 

“I was trying to buy out the contract. For you?”

“Why would you do that? How much money did that end up being?”

“Not enough. It seems that the monster of a brothel keeper and I can agree on one thing, you are priceless.”

“Then how-”

“Yennifer smuggled you out-”

“Then what of the coin?”

“It’s yours. It’s all yours if you want it. Enough to buy a cottage in the hillside for years and-”

“And what if I wanted to stay with you? And Jaskier? Or do you not want me?”

“There is nothing more that I want than you. But I treated you horribly-”

You snap to stand then, hair flipping as you stomp across the room to fling a pillow at him. “How so?”

“That night, you were under a spell and I was so close to absolutely defiling you-”

“I wanted it! If you weren’t so pigheaded you would know that those charms only work if the one wearing it is-” 

“Stop.” There was a heavy force in the room, pressing through his chest to his lungs as he tried to catch his breath. 

“Stop what?”

“This will ruin everything-”

“How. So.”

“BECAUSE I CAN’T LOSE YOU!” He yells, rubbing at his forehead. “I would rather not have you than lose you. Do you understand?”

“Do you love me?”

“Y-”

“Do you love me as I love you?” 

“Yes.” And just like that the tight feeling in his gut that formed the moment he had laid eyes on you. His body was lighter and his heart felt like it was righted once more. “I love you.”

“Then what does it matter?”

“You’ve….. You have had a long couple m-”

“I want you.” You whisper, slowly tiptoeing around the room. “I trust no one but you. No one has given me the truth more, and protected me more.”

“I was cruel and-”

“I understand now.” You smile, tears filling your eyes. “I’ve seen terrible terrible men-”

His fists clench at his sides, the urge to find every man that harmed you and smash their heads with a hammer, as he watches you move closer until your own hands find purchase on his chest. 

The warmth fills him the second you touch him. 

“But you, in all your gruff warnings and rude awakenings, have never been a bad man.”

“You deserve better.”

“I am a brothel worker. I deserve nothing. But this is not what I deserve, this is what I want. Desperately so.”

“You want me?”

“I need you, Geralt.”

His hands unclench, moving up until they rest at your cheeks as he gazes down at you. “I need you too.”

“Then show me.” It’s a simple whisper, but one he hears through his being all the same, moving you backwards slowly until the back of your knees are pressed to the bed. He waits for you to show him a sign of fear or that you changed your mind. But you merely smile up at him, fingers moving to slide over the scars on his abdomen. 

“I trust you.” You whisper, the tips of your fingers sliding against his skin until they get to the breaches he wears and begin untying them.

“After what you have been through…”

“I want you to remind me of what it could be.” And he can’t help himself after that, moving to grab the bottoms of the night dress, keeping eye contact with you as his fingers graze your thighs while he lifts it up slowly, his heart hammering in his chest as you smile softly, allowing him to stand once more and remove the dress from you. 

You allow him to watch you, the wild look in his eyes as he traces your skin slowly. 

“You’ll tell me the second you change your mind?”

“The very instant.”  It was like a cord snapping, a leash let go and suddenly Geralt could not help himself. In one quick swoop he reaches to toss you onto the bed, watching you with dark eyes while you scooch backwards to get comfortable.

He prowls above you, enjoying the excited gleam in your eye as he crawls between your legs to kiss at your lips softly, then the softness turns to hunger as his hand grabs your jaw and he devours you. Kissing you like a man completely starved of it. 

A soft moan falls from your lips and he is nearly a goner, his breath lost as he pulls back to admire his work, a string of saliva keeping you both connected as you take a moment to open your eyes, lips swollen and red. He holds out his hand, waiting patiently for you to catch your breath before he orders you to “Spit.”

You comply easily, and he stops himself from growling in pleasure before he takes his hand and slaps your cunt harshly, a smile tearing across his face when you moan out before he is crawling back down the bed to shove his face between your legs roughly and lick a stripe between your folds. 

The moment your thighs tighten around his head he vows that he will spend the rest of his life doing this, no matter where and no matter when. He would suffocate in this spot if you would let him. A low growl releases from his chest as you moan, fingers lacing themselves in his hair tightly and tugging as he laps at your clit.

Over and over, feeling you spasm with pleasure twice before you use your hands and tug him up by his hair, whining. 

He drags his eyes up to you then, seeing the tears from pleasure streaming down your cheeks as he kneels in front of you on the bed. 

“Are you hurt?” Even if he had the carnal urge to take you right here and now your safety and well being came first and foremost. You seem to realize this as you move up and reach to wrap your arms around his neck, his hands flying to your sides to help stabilize you. Rubbing softly as he peers down at you, him being twice your size. 

Just the thought of it makes his stomach clench in anticipation as you lean up to kiss him, allowing him to lean you both back down onto the bed and lay over you, picking up the kiss just as hungrily. 

He only pulls away from your kiss to kiss along your neck and collarbone as you reach down to line him up. He has to close his eyes and take in a shuddering breath the second you touch him and it takes everything not to finish there. 

But it is all worth it as he pushes in, a growl once again ripping out of his chest as you moan out, foreheads pressed together as he pushes until he is bottomed out. 

“So….. fuck.”

“Neverstop.” You whine, pressing your chest up into his with your eyes still closed. But that just wouldn’t do. How could he admire your fucked out look if he didn’t have your undivided attention. So he pulls your hair and orders you to open your eyes. 

You don’t listen, instead moving your hips to gain some friction so he shoves his own hips down to keep you pinned into place as he orders one more. “Let. Me. See. Your. Fucking. Eyes.”

When you finally open them he begins moving, a slow pace at first, allowing you to gain pleasure slowly but the second he feels the tightness loosen up and you get wetter he is unleashed, pounding into you at a heavy pace. 

The headboard hits the wall with each hit, and your face is thrown into one of pure pleasure as he keeps going. And Geralt cannot think of anything he has ever done to deserve this. 

He would never actually deserve this, but he was so grateful that you had given him a chance, because this is what pure heaven was. 

“You’re mine.” He grunts out, one fist tightening in your hair as he kisses down your throat, thrusting into you at a rapid pace as your hands fly to scratch down his back in a way that has him holding his breath to stop from finishing. 

“I’m yours.” You moan out, tears streaming down your cheeks. 

“I’m never letting y- FUCK- you leave again.”

“I’ll never leave again.” 

“I’ll kill any man that touches you.” 

“No one else.” You cry out, and he feels you tighten around him once more and knows you’re close so he reaches a hand and pinches at your nipple harshly. “Only you Geralt. My Geralt!” You come undone around him, eyes rolling back as he keeps you pressed to his chest and finishes inside you, keeping you as close as he can while letting you both ride out your highs. 

By the time you both finish he lays you both down, his head laying on your chest with him laying between your legs as you play with your hair. 

“I love you…..” You whisper, twirling some of his hair softly.

“I love you.” He replies, moving until his chin is laying on your stomach and he can look up at you. “And I will never let you forget that.”

—-------------

You are awakened by a boot pressing into your cheek as you grumble out and move to push it away. 

“Geralt I swear-” But when you open your eyes you see none other than Jaskier with a cheeky little grin over his face as he stares down at you, a mug of what smells like cider in his hand. 

“Not your lover, but your closest friend.”

“Roach wears boots now?” You laugh, moving to stretch as he rolls his eyes. It had been months since you escaped the brothel, and since everything has changed. Jaskier seems more clingy than ever which was something you only pretended to hate, and Geralt has gone from the stoic asshole to the stoic love of your life…… well in public. 

Behind closed doors he spent most of his time worshiping you. 

“Where is he?” You ask after surveying to find him.

“He took little one to get some water.” 

Another thing that had changed, the young girl that you had smuggled out of a brothel months ago, who has slowly become like a daughter to you, well youngest daughter since you considered Ciri your daughter as well. 

“We’re here!” Y/d calls, her pudgy hand held in Geralts as he leads the girls back, Ciri with a small smile on her face while Y/d rushes to you. “We got water!”

“And Geralt says we have to be off.” Ciri sighs, leaning forward to accept your loving touch as you fuss over her hair. 

“Let’s get on the horses.” Your lover grunts, lifting y/d from under her shoulders and setting her on roach, moving to help Ciri before getting to you. A hand finds purchase on your thigh as you lift yourself onto your horse, smiling down at him. 

“Don’t get any ideas.”

“While you look like that? How will I ever break the love spell?”

“Guess your spellbound then.”

“Always have been.” He kisses your thigh while Jaskier is turned before turning to his own horse and jumping on, making sure y/d is comfortable before moving on.

(I AM SO SORRY, I REALLY THOUGHT I SCHEDULED IT BABES. How can I make it up? I'll do anything.....)

@sagelovesreading

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[cinebration]

Something…Human? (Geralt of Rivia x Reader) [Request]

Hi, good day ❤️ if you're not busy, can I ask a Oneshot about Geralt x reader, but the reader had some sort of weird personality like Wednesday addams. And the two of them meet, after she saved both him and Jaskier from getting killed by a monster? Just thought it would be fun to have a creepy yet sarcastic reader. Hehe thank you and happy new year!—Requested by @binibining-mariaclara​

I didn’t watch Wednesday; I was too busy watching 1899.

Warnings: none

Gif Source: lamberts

When the dust settled and the smoke cleared, Jaskier a coughing wreck off to his left, hacking up a lung, Geralt surveyed the damage. The rotted wood of the strange barn-like structure had given way from the combined weight of the witcher and the bard slamming through it just as the burning thatch of roof collapsed atop the alghoul. The Jaskier-as-bait method had worked well in luring the monster into the building, but the creature’s thrashing had destroyed two crucial support pillars, knocking Geralt off-balance in the process and sending his igni sign into the thatch-covered roof.

The whole structure had caved in atop the monster, trapping it beneath rafter beams and the burning roof. From the lack of painful screaming, Geralt guessed one such beam, had knocked the creature unconscious or killed it instantly.

The wind picked up, whipping the fire into a frenzy and shoving smoke in Geralt’s eyes. He turned away, vision blurring for a moment. Beside him, Jaskier wheezed again.

“Next time…you decide to slam your body…through me…to destroy a wall,” the bard gasped, “give me a little warning!”

Geralt stood, moving with the lithe grace of a feline on high alert. “That wasn’t me.”

“Wasn’t you? Then why was I pinned beneath you?”

“Shut up,” Geralt hissed.

“No, no, no, you don’t get to tell me to shut up when I want answers. What were you thinking!?”

Firelight bounced off Geralt’s sword several meters away, dropped in the unexpected collision with the wall. The witcher scanned through the heat waves and smoke billowing off the structure, looking for the creature that was causing the hair on the back of his neck to prickle.

“Your dagger.”

Jaskier spat soot-coated saliva onto the parched grass. “What?”

“Give me your dagger.”

Alarm sent a spasm over Jaskier’s features. “What? Why?” He fumbled for the blade strapped to his belt, all but yanked the sheath off with it.

Grabbing the dagger, Geralt peered again through the smoke and flames, his wolf medallion vibrating slightly against his chest. The magic wasn’t powerful, not much stronger than one of the signs he wielded. The force that had sent him through the wall—and Jaskier with him—didn’t feel all that dissimilar from the aard sign, he realized.

“What is it?” Jaskier whispered, ducking behind Geralt. “Is the alghoul still alive!?”

“No.”

The wind shifted a fraction, stirring up the fire once more. The smoke whipped past Jaskier and Geralt.

A dark shape shimmered behind the heat waves.

“Then what is—oh, gods.” Jaskier went silent, arrested by the illusory form. “That’s not courage curdling at all.”

The shape moved.

Jaskier darted back behind Geralt as the witcher tracked the shape’s movement around the collapsed structure. It disappeared behind the smoke, reappeared when the wind flattened the black cloud, drawing nearer.

“That’s far enough! We’re not worth your time!”

Geralt ground his teeth, keeping himself from barking at Jaskier to stay quiet. The figure stepped past the distortion created by the heat waves, stepping through the smoke plume as though unaffected by its acridity.

The bard relaxed as you stepped into view, no longer a shimmering silhouette but fully illuminated by the flames. Shadows played over your face, swinging between softening your features and sharpening them into something unnerving. Geralt remained poised for attack, searching for signs of aggression, anything that would presage you wielding violence against him and the bard.

“Neat with the fire,” you said, your voice strangely monotone. It grew inflection as you continued. “I can’t imagine an easier way to demolish a barn. If it was ever a barn.” You glanced over your shoulder at the pile as though appraising it for its barn-like qualities.

“Hullo,” Jaskier called, mustering up a smile. “That wouldn’t happen to be your barn, would it? Because we very much did not intend for this mess. But we took care of the alghoul, so what’s a little old barn compared to a monster rampaging at night?”

Your gaze moved from him to Geralt with a sharpness that sent an uneasy shiver down the witcher’s spine. His grip on the dagger remained firm, ready for blood.

“Oh, you took care of the monster?” You rolled your eyes. “And here I thought the burning roof did that.”

“Well…we may not have delivered the killing blow, but the fire was Geralt’s, and we lured the creature inside anyway, so yes, we took care of it.”

“Does he always talk this much?” you asked. “He ought to make a living with it.”

“For your edification,” Jaskier snapped, “I am a bard and—”

“Nevermind, I see you already figured it out.” You fixed your gaze on Geralt again. “And you must be…the witcher everyone keeps talking about. They sing songs about you, you know.”

“Thanks to me.”

“Oh, there he goes talking again.”

Jaskier huffed, scrambling for words. The faint curve of a smirk touched your lips, your eyes still trained on Geralt. The humor didn’t quite reach your flat eyes.

“What are you?” Geralt’s voice rumbled deep in his chest.

Jaskier stilled. “She’s not…she’s not human?”

You sighed, the sound both heavy and bored. “Everyone on this continent needs new material. You all seem to be recycling yourself. Everywhere I go, it’s the same. ‘What are you? You’re not human.’” A sound of disgust emerged from your throat.

It sounded disingenuous.

“What are you?” Geralt repeated, edge lining his words.

“Bored.” You feigned a yawn. ““Witcher this, witcher that.’ I followed you for entertainment, and what do I find? You both in need of rescuing.”

“Wait…you sent us through the wall?” Jaskier stepped past Geralt. “Do you see how massive he is!? I’m lucky I didn’t break anything!”

“Next time, I’ll let the monster win.” A brittle smile pulled at your lips, an eerie flicker in your eyes. “That would be more entertaining.”

Jaskier reared back a step, Geralt shifting so the bard wouldn’t stumble into him. The wolf medallion had stopped vibrating, but the hair on Geralt’s nape still prickled uneasily as he met your curiously flat stare, watching the unsettling flicker within your pupils.

Pivoting sharply on your heel, you strolled away from the burning wreckage, not once looking over your shoulder.

“All you did was stand there,” Jaskier complained, shooting the witcher a glare.

“I was waiting.”

“For what? Her to tongue-lash us to death?”

Geralt handed Jaskier the dagger without a word, then slowly crossed the field to the edge of the destroyed structure. His gloves prevented him from being burned when he picked up his sword from beside the raging flames.

“What was she?” Jaskier asked, his annoyance replaced with concern. “She wasn’t human, right? Did you see her eyes?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well…that’s probably more terrifying. Let’s go back to the village. I need a strong drink after that.” Jaskier hesitated midstride. “Unless…what if she’s there?”

Geralt almost hoped you would be, just so he could learn whether you were human or not.

[thelostgirl21]

How to solve the whole situation once they've found Ciri...

Jaskier: I think Ciri should marry Radovid.

Geralt: Are you insane? He's way too old for -

Radovid: If I may, he's talking about a purely political alliance. I can assure you I'm gay, and I've got absolutely no matrimonial interest in your daughter. I do, however, so happen to have a kingdom that I'd very much love to abdicate from in favor of a queen that might actually have an interest in running it.

Ciri: I could use a kingdom! One that would treat elves, dwarves and humans as equals...

Jaskier: See? She'd make a great queen! They get married, Radovid renounces the throne, they divorce, Ciri inherits Redania - and with it the most powerful army in the North to keep her safe... Oooh! And Yennefer could be her mage adviser!

Yennefer: You sound like you've been giving this way too much thought...

Geralt: Wait. Redania legalized divorce?

Jaskier: And gay marriage, too. *Tries to sound casual about it.* Not that this is, you know, at all relevant to the the current situation.

Geralt: And why should we believe the King of Redania would be keen on giving up power so easily?

Radovid: Look, all I really wanted was a pretty song...

Geralt: *Eyes him suspiciously*

Jaskier: No, he's being honest. Had my doubts, too, but turns out all he really wanted, at first, was a pretty song.

Geralt: *Slowly realizes what this is about, an amused glint in his eyes as he looks back at him.* I thought you didn't do pretty?

Jaskier: *Dramatically throws his arms in the air, slightly annoyed.* Well, apparently I do now, don't I?

Radovid: *Smirking smuggly* I'm "pretty".

Ciri: *Totally missing the innuendo* You really are!

Radovid: *Delighted and preening* Thank you.

Yennefer: *Snorts*

Yarpen: *Points to Jaskier and Radovid* Wait. Has the lute-playing walloper been fucking a King?

Geralt: *Groans and sighs* Again, real subtle, Yarpen.

Yarpen: *Whisling while looking at Jaskier, somewhat impressed.* Didn't think you'd have it in you, friend!

Radovid: Well, technically -

Jaskier: Aaand on that note! I'll also need Ciri to divorce him, so I can marry him after.

Ciri: *Excitedly* You two are getting married?

Jaskier: Only if you are! Which, I'm aware, makes very little sense...

Radovid: I actually did offer to marry him first - and have Redania become the first kingdom to have two kings - but that triggered a bit of a panic attack.

Jaskier: Look, I stopped using that viscount title and left nobility behind for a reason. If Ciri can make room in the castle for a retired king and his traveling bard, I'd be fine spending a few weeks or even months living at court from time to time. Especially at first, so Radovid can help her get settled and update her on the most important issues that need to be addressed and resolved in the kingdom.

Ciri: Of course you'd always have a home here, and I wouldn't just kick Radovid out! Actually, would it be okay for me to let him keep his prince title? Just in case anything happens to me, and -

Yennefer: *Firmly* Nothing's going to happen to you.

Ciri: Yeah but -

Geralt: No buts. We won't allow it.

Ciri: What if I accidentally portal myself to another dimension? Wouldn't want to force me to leave the Kingdom unattended until I get back, would you?

Jaskier: Hate to say it, but she does have a point.

Radovid: Look, if that would give the Princess some peace of mind to have someone willing to be holding the fort in case of emergencies... But, if that were to happen, I'd be needing Jaskier's help.

Jaskier: *Shrugs* I mean, I guess that would work. It's not that I don't want to get involved in making people's lives better in the kingdom, or share in any of those responsibilities. It's just that, no matter how much I love any of you guys - and I really do love you - I tend to get quite antsy and unpleasant confined to a single location for too long.

Radovid: And personally, I've always wanted to travel, meet different people, and experience some of the tales that have inspired Jaskier's songs for myself.

Geralt: You know he makes a lot of those things up, right?

Radovid: *Shrugs* I think Jaskier's always told those stories the way he sees them - for what they are or mean to him according to his own emotional truth, rather than facts. For example, I've always thought that "Toss a Coin to Your Witcher" was about how the world tends to forget that, behind every larger-than-life heroic figure, there's often just someone that needs to be looked after, too, offered a drink from time to time, listened to, and treated as a friend. If accuracy or factually reporting events had been his goal, then he'd have become a historian, not a bard.

Yennefer: That's... surprisingly insightful.

Jaskier: *Swooning* I know... *Sighs happily* He really is quite brilliant, isn't he?

Radovid: *Blushes brightly* I take it my humble interpretation's not too far off?

Jaskier: *Leans in to whisper into his ear.* I'll let you know just how close you got later...

Geralt: *Confused* Okay, what's actually happening here?

Ciri: *Chuckles* It's called poetry.

Jaskier: *Dreamily, mostly to himself* You'd have to be a spoon to get it...

Radovid: *Now also confused* Wait. What? Now I don't get it.

Jaskier: *Winces slightly* Sorry. That one's on me, you're missing context. You're a spoon, Geralt's a hammer - just...

Radovid: ...different tools for different purposes?

Jaskier: *Makes a half strangled noise, as his legs threaten to give up on him.*

Yarpen: *Motioning to Jaskier while looking at Yennefer, bit puzzled* Does your bard usually do that?

Yennefer: *Looking deep in thoughts, seemingly analysing the situation* Not that I've ever been aware of.

Geralt: Yeah, no. That's new.

Ciri: *Incredulously* You've been travelling with him for, like, over 20 years, and you're telling me you've never seen him have a crush before?

Yennefer: Oh! Oh. Yeah, that's um - okay. I think you're right - I mean, I can see the nuance.

Jaskier (*slowly coming back to himself*) & Geralt: What nuance?

Yennefer: *Innocently* Nothing! Just enjoy your spoon, bard. I'll explain it to the hammer later.

Geralt: *Huffs thoughtfully*

Jaskier: *Still looking unsure* Alright...

Yarpen: You know what, I think it's safer if I don't know.

Radovid: I'm actually not entirely sure I follow...

Yennefer: *Uses magic to telepathically communicate with Radovid, making him blush even brighter.*

Radovid: No, I mean, that seems...

Yennever: *Continues to telepathically communicate with him, looking fondly amused, and just the slightest bit smug.*

Radovid: *Bashfully* I'll ah, I'll take your word for it, and thank you...

Jaskier: What did she just say?

Radovid: Nothing bad, and I'll tell you one day, when the time's right, I promise.

Jaskier: *Doesn't look quite convinced.*

Yennefer: *Rolls eyes* I promise it's fine, Pankratz. Now stop pouting!

Jaskier: *Sighs dramatically* Fine!

Radovid: But,to go back to the whole political royal union thing, I did look to see if I could just hand the kingdom over to Ciri - simply name a successor and step down. Sadly, changing the laws of succession would appear to be a complete nightmare!

Geralt: Meaning we have to trust that you'll honor your end of the agreement, and -

Yarpen: What? You really think that King's going to attempt to stay married to your kid with the amount of eye fucking that's been happening between him and your bard?

Geralt: *Groans* Yarpen, for fuck's sake!

Yennefer: That's a bit of a crude way to put it, but he's got a point.

Geralt: You know Dijsktra and Philippa won't be happy about this, right?

Jaskier: Yeah, well, good thing you and Yennefer are scarier than Dijsktra and Philippa.

Ciri: *Crosses arms on her chest, pointedly looking at Jaskier* Why are you overlooking the fact that I'd totally rip their spines out if they tried to come after you and hurt my family?

Jaskier: Gods, I love you kid! *Pulls Ciri into a tight hug*

Radovid: Didn't you say Yennefer was the scary one?

Jaskier: Like mother, like daughter.

Yarpen: *Proudly* I actually taught the cub how to rip out spines.

Geralt: *Gives two vigorous pats on Radovid's shoulder, almost making him fall over* Welcome to the family, Radovid! *Whispering omninously* But, should you ever try to hurt Jaskier or Ciri, trust me, you'll be wishing she ripped out your spine.

Yennefer: Yes, because I know how to eternally trap souls into an infernal dimension.

Radovid: *Hesitating* That's... oddly reassuring. *Visibly relaxing while looking at Jaskier* You were right, love - Dijsktra and Philippa aren't so scary after all, are they?

Jaskier: *Smuggly* Told you!

Yennefer: Are we sure we shouldn't have been warning Jaskier not to hurt him?

Geralt: Hmm... I was just thinking that, too.

[shy-urban-hobbit]

Aiden sighed as he settled back in the grass, basking in the midday sun whilst his horse grazed nearby. After almost a week of camping, he was pretty sure he only had a day, two at most before the Dyn Marv Caravan passed close enough for him to join the clowder for the winter. It was a trick all Cat’s picked up after a couple of years on the path and missed opportunities to go home because you were restless. Pick a stretch of road and hunker down until you hear the calls. They still liked to remind Schrödinger of the year he missed them because he got distracted by a pretty shepherdess and was helping her ‘tend her flock’, as it were.

He smiled to himself as he closed his eyes and started idly listing off the various birds he could hear. Something he’d always found calming. Wood pigeon; obviously. A blue jay, a couple of crows making a din about something further into the trees, a linnet.

He tensed when his sensitive ears picked up a distinctly human call. Somebody somewhere in the woods was singing. Aiden relaxed when it didn’t sound like they were getting any closer (further away if anything) before frowning. He couldn’t make out the words but from tone of voice alone it was apparent his mystery serenader was pissed. He winced in sympathy for whoever or whatever had earned such ire. His musings were interrupted by the sharp crack of wood breaking, followed by the singing rapidly turning into a shriek. He whistled 'stay' at his horse, hoping the flick of an ear was acknowledgment and not a fly before leaping to his feet and grabbing his swords before sprinting in the direction the noise had come from.

The groans of pain and multiple (very creative) curses were both a blessing and a curse. It was providing him with pretty clear directions but who knew what else they’d attract. It wasn’t long before he found their source though. A pit trap, the branches and bracken laid over the top destroyed. He made sure to make his footfalls louder as he approached.

“Hello, is somebody there? Oh Gods, if there is, please be an actual person and not some sort of liche or something.” The voice only sounded slightly shaky, which could just as easily be down to the scent of pain as well as that of fear.

“No Liche around these woods. None I’ve seen anyway.” Aiden said as he peered over the edge. It was deep, and the earthen sides were totally smooth, with not even a decent sized tree root visible, whoever had dug this wasn’t taking any chances.

A young man sat on the pit floor, blinking up at him with wide, blue eyes. A light pack on his back and a lute laying next to him, his hands grasping his left ankle. His gaze fixed on Aiden’s swords from where they peeked over his shoulder, “Wait. Armour, two swords…Witcher?”

Aiden nodded, mentally preparing himself for having to convince him to accept help from him.

“Oh, thank fuck.” The man’s shoulders sagged as he gave a relieved sounding laugh, “For a minute there I thought I was in trouble. Jaskier the Bard.” He inclined his head and Aiden got the impression it would be a full bow if he were standing, “Be a dear and help me out?” Aiden blinked down at him. Shit, he was definitely concussed.

After Jaskier had assured him that no, he hadn’t hit his head, but he had buggered up his ankle somewhat, they came up with a system. Jaskier passed his lute and pack up to Aiden, the Witcher feeling guilt spring up at the flash of pure hurt in the human’s eyes when he half-jokingly asked “’How do you know I won’t just leave you there?” He held his tongue as he hung as far over the edge as he dared and offered Jaskier his hand so he could haul himself out with Aiden’s help. He looked anywhere but at Aiden as he sat and tried to wipe the dust and mud off his bright red doublet. He immediately reminded the Witcher of a cardinal bird.

Aiden cleared his throat awkwardly, “Your ankle, think you can walk on it? I can help you back to your camp or horse if not.”

Jaskier shook his head, “Don’t have either I’m afraid. I’ve been travelling incredibly light as of late, I don’t know if you’ve tried it, but it’s been surprisingly freeing not being weighed down by useless stuff, you know.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call a bedroll useless.”

Jaskier waved a hand, “Debatable. I-fuck!” Aiden caught him by the arm as his ankle immediately buckled underneath him when he tried to stand, “No, walking’s not happening. Sorry.”

“Nothing to apologise for. Lean on me.”

“Where are you taking me?”

Good fucking question, actually.

Aiden really didn’t have time for this. He couldn’t leave a defenceless human hobbling around on an injured leg, but he couldn’t exactly risk an outsider encountering the Caravan either. There was a reason they stayed off the main roads after all. He tried to sketch a basic map in his head: This should be just about manageable.

“My camp. We’ll use my horse to get you to the nearest town and you can make your own way from there yeah? Unless you know of anywhere else nearby, where were you heading?” The nearest town was about a days ride away, if he rode through the night after dropping Jaskier off he should hopefully be back in time to catch the Caravan.

“I…no,” and there was that hurt again, “I have nowhere to be and nowhere to go. Such is the life of travelling Bard.”

“Easy, Sparrow.” Aiden cooed as he helped Jaskier up on the saddle, the Bard holding his lute in his lap and muttering something about how it must be some unspoken Witcher tradition to name your horse after another animal.

“Know many Witchers then?” Aiden asked

“Just the one, we travelled together on and off for a time, he’s a Wolf.” Aiden felt ice go down his spine. Fuck. A certain, tolerable raven head being the exception, if he was going to end up with some possessive fleabag accusing him of kidnapping, Aiden was cutting ties now.

“Where are they now?” Aiden tried to keep his tone light. If Lambert had lost another brother, he wouldn't know until he made it back to his own home for the winter and the thought that Aiden would know before the poor sods family momentarily settled heavily in his chest.

“I don’t actually know. We had a bit of a disagreement a while back. Which school are you by the way, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Aiden fished the snarling cat head from out of his tunic, which was met with raised eyebrows and an “…Ah.”

“Still happy with our plan?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Jaskier sounded genuinely confused.

“I can guess what your Wolf told you about my lot. If you’d rather take your chances, I can leave you with some basic supplies.”

“Dear, if I paid attention to every single thing I got told about Witchers, my life would have taken a very different direction. You’ve given me no reason not to trust you so far. So, hop up and let’s go.”

“Self-preservation isn’t a phrase you know very well, is it?”

“We’ve a passing acquaintance at best. Speaking of, may I know the name of my rescuer and escort? Unless you don’t mind me calling you Dear for the entire trip.”

“I’m Aiden.”

Read the rest on my A03!

[flowercrown-bard]

From the prompts list if you are still doing it. #10 Please - Always finding excuses to stay with each other with Geraskier. If not no worries. Thank you and have a great day.

Thank you for the prompt! Sorry it took me so long to get to it

Geralt didn't get it. A decade ago, perhaps it would have made sense, but after Blaviken? It didn't make any sense why a human would insist on staying with him. 

The first day, Geralt merely watched the bard with narrowed eyes, waiting for him to slip up and reveal the real reason why he kept following him. Waiting for the knife to be pulled on him. 

But of course, the bard didn't carry a knife and even if he did, he was more likely to hurt himself than to do any harm to Geralt.

So Geralt kept waiting.

Tomorrow, the bard would be gone. Surely. 

-

"I'm afraid Roach has nominated me as her new best friend and it would surely break her heart if I left," Jaskier said as he bribed the mare into showing some tolerance for him by sneaking her an apple. "You can't seriously expect me to hurt a lady's heart like that.

But just the day before, Geralt had returned to camp only to find Jaskier scolding Roach for chewing on his clothes and telling her that she was the most uncivilized horse on all the continent. There was no love lost between the two of them. So clearly, Jaskier was lying about the reason why he had to stay. 

Geralt just didn't know why. 

-

He still was there by the time the new week rolled around. Geralt could be a patient man. He had to be, for when he had to wait for hours until a monster showed up.

But this was grating on his nerves. It would have been easy to say that Jaskier was the thing aggravating him, but really it was the not-knowing, the not-understanding. 

So Geralt waited. He could be a patient man.

-

"There's truly nothing as convenient as having a traveling companion who can hunt for food," Jaskier would declare, or "You really are the best at finding spots in the wood where the ground is slightly less hard. I'll have to stay a while longer, just so I get some good sleep." 

It was bullshit and they both knew it. After Jaskier's damn song had taken off, he had more than enough coin to rent a room at an inn - hell, there were even some taverns where he was offered room and board for free as long as he performed. There was no reason for him to put up with the hard ground of the forest or the unseasoned meat Geralt cooked. 

Clearly, Jaskier was making up reasons to stay. 

Geralt just had no idea what the real reason might be. 

–

"No, I don't mind wandering the woods with you," Jaskier lied, "In fact, it might be for the best if I avoided towns for a while. There might be some nobles whom I've not-so-accidentally insulted. No, best I stay away."

Geralt rolled his eyes in fond exasperation. It wasn't a lie exactly. By now he knew Jaskier well enough that he could tell that there definitely was a number of people who wanted the bard gone. Geralt's first instinct was to think that he understood that inclination only too well. But that hadn't been true for quite a while.

It didn't matter. What mattered was that Geralt knew for a fact that Jaskier didn't care about who he had pissed off or in how much trouble he was. His own safety could not be the real reason why he stayed with Geralt. After all, what could be more dangerous than being with a witcher? 

For a moment, Geralt contemplated saying these thoughts out loud, but the words wouldn't leave his lips. Jaskier might take them too heart and what would Geralt do, if Jaskier decided that there really was no sensible reason for him to stay? 

So Geralt banished all reason from his mind. 

"Come on then," he said as he lead Roach off the road. "Better stay close so I can make sure you cause no more trouble." 

–

After the sixth month came and went, Geralt decided that he had been a patient man for long enough. He was itching with unease. 

At first, he told himself the feeling came from wanting the bard gone, but the more time he spent with him, the more he realized that it was quite the opposite. 

For as much as the bard was annoying and inconvenient and overall a nuisance, Geralt found himself dreading the day Jaskier would leave. 

Because Geralt didn't understand why he was staying. So he didn't know what he could do to make sure Jaskier continued to stay. 

So there was only one thing he could do: Until he figured out how to keep Jaskier from leaving, Geralt simply had to take a page out of the bard's book and make up excuses for why they shouldn't go their separate ways just yet. 

He was determined that one day, he would find out the truth. And maybe, once he stopped focusing so much on why Jaskier wanted to stay with him, he could finally ask himself why he wanted so desperately to stay with Jaskier as well. 

[fandom-junk-drawer]

The Witcher Headcanon (Modern AU) - Teething

Jaskier, likes to have fun. Everyone does. But sometimes, he goes a little too far. When the I'm-bored-let's-do-something-fun part of his brain turns on, he often gets into trouble, and takes Geralt along with him.

Because Geralt, no matter how mature and rational he is, always loses all his common sense the second Jaskier gets involved. Jaskier comes up with a brilliantly irrational idea for something fun, like sticking firecrackers in anthills, or tying a Halloween prop skeleton to the ceiling fan and turning it on high, and Geralt's brain is suddenly comprised of a single dustbunny and an obscene amount of blind trust.

Jaskier: "Do you want to go to the pool and put floaties on our feet to see if we can walk on water?"

Geralt *brain functioning at the same level as a common whelk*: "I'll get the floaties!"

Zero consideration is ever given to all the ways these ideas could go wrong. Jaskier just sometimes forgets that Geralt is a Witcher, and is much stronger than a regular human bean. With much faster relfexes.

Jaskier also regularly gives in to his intrusive thoughts. Which is how he decides that tickling a Witcher would be a good idea. Jaskier had the upper hand at first, having the element of surprise. And then Geralt, in breathless desperation, had twisted and...kicked.

He'd caught Jaskier right in the mouth. There had been blood. So much blood. It had been running from between Jaskier's fingers where he had one hand clamped over his mouth as he'd slowly tried to stand up, dazed and in so much pain he couldn't even scream. Geralt had grabbed him, pulling his hand away from his mouth.

He was missing most of his teeth on the left side, and the rest were broken.

F**k

The box of dumba** band-aids wasn't going to fix this.

Yennefer had been able to stop the bleeding and heal the empty sockets. She'd had to use a spell to numb his mouth and remove the broken and shattered teeth.

Repairing a few damaged teeth with magic was fairly easy. It didn't require much Chaos, but creating a whole new set of teeth? That was beyond what Yennefer could do all in one go

It would have taken several months to replace all his teeth. So, she came up with a spell to convince Jaskier's body to just grow more. Jaskier had expected to wake up the next morning with his teeth all grown back, but no. Apparently, it wasn't going to be that easy.

A week later, he woke up, gums a little sore. He put it down to soreness left over from being kicked in the mouth by a massive Witcher boot. A few days later, and the soreness had become more intense. He didn't mention it to Yennefer, not wanting to constantly whine about the same thing every day.

The pain put him in a bad mood and made him just want to hide in bed. He'd gotten more irritable over the following two days, snapping at Geralt and Yennefer and keeping to himself more. Yennefer had sensed his discomfort and gone to check on him. She had gone into his room, brushing soothingly at his mind as she ran her hand up and down his back. He was sweating slightly but didn't feel as if he had a fever. She had a suspicion of what was wrong.

"Your mouth hurting you, Nightengale?" She received an irritable grunt in reply. "You should have said something! Here, let me see." Yennefer carefully pressed her finger into his mouth and lightly ran it over his gums. She could feel two small bumps on his lower gums and two on the upper ones, right at the front.

Ah, just as she thought. Yennefer pressed her finger down on the bumps, rubbing gently, and Jaskier's breath hitched, then he realxed, biting down on her finger with a soft moan of relief.

"Your teeth are coming in." Yennefer said, rubbing the sore gums

Jaskier pulled away with an incredulous squawk of "You mean I'm teething?! Teething? Like babies do?!"

"Did you think they were going to just pop up overnight?"

Jaskier :*irritated, embarrassed gumbling*

He rubbed a hand through his hair in frustration. "Doesn't that take months? I'm going to be f***ing teething for months?"

"It won't take months," Yennefer assured him, playing with the hair at his temple, "They'll come in four at a time, with two days between. That way, you get a break between the sets."

And here he was, teething as an adult. It was awful. No wonder babies cried while they were cutting their teeth! The poor little b**tards!

The first four teeth were absolute h*ll. He hadn't known how bad it was going to be. Jaskier's gums were so sore. He hadn't known what to do, so he had just sat there and cried in his room.

Geralt felt terrible. It had been an accident, but still. He'd hurt his bard and there wasn't much he could do to help him. Or maybe there was...

He went out and did a little shopping. It involved uncomfortable assumptions and some awkward eye contact, but he'd managed. He walked out of the boutique with his fancy baggie containing some things that would hopefully help.

Jaskier was on the couch, trying to distract himself with his shows. He kept rubbing his gums like Yennefer had done for him the other day.

He vaguely registered Geralt sitting down next to him, too focused on the discomfort of his gums. He felt a warm hand touch his shoulder and squeeze gently. He turned and saw Geralt tenatively holding something out to him like some sort of peace offering.

It was flat, and shaped like a dinosaur with a hole in the middle. It took Jaskier a minute to realize it was a teething ring.

Jaskier had been too desperate for relief to turn it down. He threw his pride aside and just about snatched it out of Geralt's hand.

"That helping?" Geralt asked as Jaskier made little groaning noises as he chewed on the ring.

"Ohhhhhhhh, F***ing YES!" Came the muffled reply. Jaskier glanced toward the kitchen where Yen was making dinner, then gave Geralt a mischevious look. He nudged Geralt then started making loud moaning and slurping noises around the teething ring.

"Stop that right now or I will f***ing come out there and switch off your soul!"

"What?" Jaskier asked in an innocent tone, "I'm just soothing the pain in my poor gums!"

"You're being gross," Yennefer accused him, flapping a kitchen towel at him as she stalked over.

"Well, if me chewing on a teething ring grosses you out that much, I'll just have to find something else, " Jaskier sighed, feigning hurt. He turned to Geralt and said, "I need to rub my gums on something, so how about a blowjob?"

Yennefer slapped him on the back of the head with the towel. "You disgusting little w*nker!"

"Minger!"

"Plonker!"

Yennefer grabbed the teething ring away.

"Hey!" Jaskier sqwawked, making a grab for it, only to have Yennefer keep him at arm's lenght by means of a hand on his forehead.

"Calm your tits," She drawled, "I'm trying to cast a spell!"

Jaskier grumbled and flopped dramatically back on the couch to pout.

The teething ring was cold when Yennefer handed it back to him a few moments later. "That should feel better on your gums, dove," she said, dropping a kiss on the top of his head before returning to the kitchen.

The teething ring stayed cold, thanks to the spell Yennefer had put on it, so he didn't have to worry about having to put it back in the freezer. He spent the afternoon being in a much better mood now that he could numb the annoying pain in his gums.

Yennefer had told him that the constant pain would slowly get worse over the next four days untill the teeth erupted. She had been right. The pain had gotten more intense.

He was looking at his gums in the bathroom mirror when Geralt stuck his head in and came over to see, Yennefer at his heels. Geralt tilted Jaskier's head back and gently prodded at the bumps in his gums. "Looks like they are ready to break through," Geralt said.

Yennefer hummed her agreement after looking for herself. Jaskier smiled rakishly and said "You better ask for that blowjob while you still can, Geralt!"

"EwW, JuLiAN!" Yennefer groaned, swatting Jaskier on the arm while Geralt laughed.

They finally erupted later that day, and Jaskier was relieved. The pain rapidly diminished, and he enjoyed the next two days where he wasn't in constant pain.

The next four teeth were not as bad as the first had been, to Jaskier's relief. And the four after that were fairly easy as well. He found that he didn't always need the cold teething ring to help with the ache. Sometimes, it was enough just to bite on something.

He used the other teether Geralt had bought, the soft rubber one shaped like a giraffe. It squeaked when he chewed on the body, and he spent the next four days being an absolute menace by annoying the ever-loving f**k out of Geralt and Yennefer with it.

He figured out how to 'talk' with it, and attempted to communiate with Yennefer and Geralt soley through squeaks, in various 'tones of voice'.

Jaskier (getting griped at for something): *soft, sad little squeak*

Geralt and Yennefer: *dropping everything and rushing to comfort him*

While the last two sets of teeth had been pretty easy, Jaskier found that the molars would cause him the most pain, even more so than the first four teeth. It was awful. His gums ached so badly. They were red and sore, and the pain was almost maddening.

Yennefer had to get him a different teething ring; one that could reach the back of his mouth. He wasn't complaining about the pain, and that worried her. He would go on and on about a scratch, or a bruise, but when it came to more serious injuries, he would try to hide it. She had learned that the quieter he was , the more pain he was in.

He had been lying in bed all morning, pulling at his ears, grinding his knuckles into the sides of his jaws, and chewing on his fingers. He'd tried to keep his whimpering quiet, but Yennefer had heard him.

She found the perfect teether, and spelled it cold. It had worked, to Jaskier's relief. He'd laid in his bed, cuddled up with Yennefer, his head on her stomach, letting the cold teething toy numb the pain while she stroked his cheek and ran her fingers through his hair. "You're a hot mess," she murmured to him, brushing his hair out of his eyes.

Jaskier sighed softly as the pain ebbed away, and mumbled back, his Northern accent becoming more pronounced, "No am not, am a spicy disaster."

"That you are, Bardling."

Once he was feeling better, he emerged from his room and sat on the couch to terrorize Geralt and Yennefer with sex jokes and inappropriate gestures with his teething toy, which was shaped like a banana, and even had a peel. Every time one of them looked at him, he was making some kind of suggestive motion with it.

Geralt tried not to react to it, not wanting to encourage him, but Jaskier was very creative with his jokes and gestures. Geralt had completely lost his sh*t when Jaskier managed to get his attention, then held the banana teether at crotch level and started 'peeling' it.

Geralt outright guaffawed, and couldn't stop.

Yennefer yelled at him from the study, "Stop braying like an a**!", as she, against her better judgment, came to see what the fuss was about.

She regretted it instantly.

"Well, thanks, now I have cataracts! "

"Stop doing that!"

"And don't do that either! That's somehow even worse!"

"I don't care what it's called! Just stop doing-!"

"I hope you choke on your banana!" Yennefer spat over her shoulder as she gave up and swept out of the room while Geralt laughed so hard he snorted at Jaskier pretending to deepthroat the teething toy

Jaskier sniggered when she's gone, and went back to chewing, a smug look on his face.

Four days later and the whole teething nightmare was over and Jaskier was relieved. No more pain, or drooling, or being cranky, or not being able to sleep. Now he could focus on more important things, like his music and annoying Geralt and Yennefer.

[crashdevlin]

Left in the Cold (A Witcher fic)

Author’s Note: Again, I'm very aware that not everyone likes the Witcher but this is what demanded my attention this week. TBLP and Permission Granted are being worked on right now though lol

This is a sequel to Opposites Don't Attract I took bits of lore from the show, the books, and the games and mixed them all up into a cohesive awesomeness...I switch between calling the bard 'Jaskier' and 'Dandelion' because he goes by Dandelion in the games/books, because he doesn't like people know he's a noble. No smut in this one, just lovely angst.

Summary:  Y/n doesn't think Geralt really wants her so she's leaving before she can be left.

Pairing: Geralt x Female Witcher!Reader, mentions of Geralt x Yennefer and Geralt x Triss Merigold

Word count: 3303

Story Warnings: angst... just mostly a lot of that shit lol

~~~~

“Here’s the other half, Madam Witcher,” the museum curator who hired you said, handing you a bag of gold Crowns.

“Not a ‘madam’ anything,” you disputed, tying the bag to your potions belt. “What are you going to do with all the fakes Lery sold you?”

“They might not be authentic artifacts, but it could be argued that they are very well-done art pieces.”

You shook your head. Humans. So greedy. “Is that how you’re gonna be getting your money’s worth? You’re gonna charge people to see a set of fake Elven ‘art’?”

“I won’t present it as authentic. Don’t worry about-”

“I don’t care enough to worry,” you interrupted. “You just be careful not to get the attention of the guard. Nilfgard doesn’t like frauds.”

The man nodded solemnly as you walked away and jumped easily up onto your horse, Daisy. You rode out of the East gate of Novigrad and started down the path, cutting across a field as you turned North. A flash of pink caught your attention and you slowed Daisy to a trot as another horse came up behind you.

You raised an eyebrow at the sight of Jaskier's fluffy pink hat. "What pink nightmare is that on your head, Dandelion?"

"It was a gift, thank you, from a very prominent Redanian Duke."

"Ah. Which of his daughters did you bed?"

"The youngest," he said nonchalantly. "But he legitimately liked my rhymes before he found out I had defiled his sweetest." You shook your head. At least the bard was consistent. "Where are you going?"

The way he asked the question made your eyebrows scrunch together. "I just finished a job in Novigrad. I was going to search for another contract in-"

"You're going North. Kagen is South."

You bristled slightly at the mention of the town where you left Geralt. "Why would I go to Kagen?"

"I just spoke to Geralt yesterday and he said that you were meeting him in-"

"I'm absolutely certain that Geralt has too much sense to be waiting around for me."

"Wait, did something happen?" Jaskier asked, reaching out to put a hand on your shoulder. "You can talk to me, Y/n."

"Remove your hand from my shoulder or I'll remove your hand from your wrist," you warned.

"Well, someone's touchy today." He pulled his hand back and sighed. "Why aren't you going to meet with Geralt?"

You rolled your eyes. "Why would I go meet with Geralt?"

"Now, I thought you two were together, at least in a physical sense. Highly compatible, right? He's a witcher; you're a witcher. You've got parts that match up nicely. Everyone in the tavern heard you in Lyria. I thought that was the start of something-"

"Gezras save me. Jaskier, shut up." You licked your bottom lip between your teeth and bit into it harshly as you debated the best way to get the bard to stifle his questions. "We are compatible. Of course we are. Physically, we're a perfect match. However...I am not a sorceress...which means I'm not his type...and he will be bored of me before a moon has gone and I am...just getting ahead of that. All right? Have I bared enough of my inner workings to you, Bard? Or shall I pull out a flask of liquor and tell you of my childhood and lack of emotional stability?" you finished, a defensive sarcasm on your words.

"If that's what you want to do, sure, but I get the feeling that's not what you want to do," he responded, making you roll your eyes. "So, you're just going to leave him waiting in Kagen?"

"I'm sure he'll figure out I'm not coming back before too long."

"Do you want me to tell him-"

"I don't want you involved. I don't want you to say a thing about this. I just want to go find a contract to get some coin and put a few more miles between me and the Butcher of Blaviken, all right?"

"Oh, come on. He hates being called that."

"Then revise your song," you snapped. You took a deep breath and adjusted your hold on Daisy's reins. You were losing control of your emotions. You were straying dangerously close back into Feline territory. "I'm going to go. Enjoy your...just farewell, Jaskier."

"And when you run into him again?" He adjusted his hat and patted his horse's head. "It's bound to happen. He was actively avoiding me for years and we still managed to cross paths. What will you do?"

You shrugged. "If he's alone, we'll have sex. If he's with one of the others, I'll go my own way. As I am doing now."

You couldn't keep up the conversation. Jaskier called out after you as your horse sped away down the path, but you didn't turn back. You could not go back to Kagen. You could not go back to Geralt.

You felt...deeply...horribly...terrifyingly. You felt in a way that Geralt of Rivia did not. You cared easily. You loved freely. You desired in a way that Geralt could never even begin to understand. You felt...which meant you could, and would, feel pain. You were left wide open to heartbreak. After analyzing everything, you were left with a single option: walk away. Walk away and leave the White Wolf a sweet memory.

~~~~

You stared at the stars, lying out on your bed roll waiting for sleep to take you. In the three weeks since you left Geralt in Kagen, you’d gone Northwest. Away from Temeria where Geralt was, away from Redania where the king seemed to have a vendetta forming against all nonhuman entities, away from Nilfgard and their dark armies. Tredam in Poviss was a safe, calm place. A witcher would likely be the craziest thing to enter the gates in years. Once you were there, you could take some coin and rent a small cabin for the winter. Hide a while with nothing but your meditation. Force your emotions down. Force your feelings away.

If you made it that far.

There was no sound of boots on frosted grass approaching you, but there was a smell and a sense of movement. You didn't have to ask. You didn't have to look. You knew before he'd rounded the tree closest to you who was approaching.

"You can come out now, Joel," you called, sitting up.

"Quite a bit further up North than I expected, sister," he said, quietly, walking around the tree to look down at you. He was tall with dark skin and his brilliant eyes shined in the dark just like yours did. Joel was a witcher, a Cat School graduate, your brother in every way but blood. You could see pain and anger on his face and it took no guessing to figure out why those emotions were there. He knew, just as well as you did, that you had abandoned him when you left the Caravan. When you saddled your horse in the dead of night and took off without a word almost twenty years before, you left him behind.

"I've been all over the Continent...and Skellige. This is the first time I've been North of Redania in years, actually." You licked your lips and leaned forward, eyes narrowing to take in more of the man. He was scarred, just as you were, but your scars were monsters claws embedded in your skin as constant reminder to move faster, be better, hunt harder...his looked to be knife wounds. The scar across his throat made your heart ache; someone had slashed him from ear to ear. But he'd obviously survived. Gods have pity on the one who tried to kill that Cat.

"Oh, I've heard." He nodded as he came to stand in front of you. "A giant in Skellige, wasn't it? And that trio of trolls in Temeria."

"Just to name a few, of course." You analyzed Joel as he rocked a bit on his feet in front of you. He was on edge. He was anxious. He was in fight mode already.

"Just to name the ones songs have been written about."

You rolled your eyes. Jaskier would need to be throttled. "The songs were...not my decision."

"I noticed, in the songs that weren't your decision...those songs of a White Wolf and a Stray Cat, you seem to denigrate our teachers. Have you spent the last twenty years talking shit about the people who saved you?"

"You can't sully the reputation of a school of assassins and mercenaries." His eyes cut away at the mention and his heart rate doubled for a few seconds. "Is that why you're here, Joel? Are you here to dispatch a naysayer? Here to kill a traitor to your school?"

He scoffed and shook his head. "No. Of course not. I'd never kill you over something like ideology."

"Then what are you going to kill me for?"

"A witcher always fulfills a contract," he said, quietly.

That shocked you. "And there's a price on my head?"

"A woman approached the Caravan. Well-dressed, human, obviously uncomfortable around nomads...but she came anyway." You swallowed as he shifted slightly to stand between you and your swords. "She said her name was Marchioness Taran Woudsly and-" Your eyes closed in silent exasperation at the name. You knew what this was about. "-she needed a witcher to take down the witcher who murdered her husband."

"I did not murder her husband," you argued. "I have not murdered a soul in over twenty years. I have killed monsters and I have killed in defense of my own life, but it has been since the Quadrell contract-" You shook your head and sighed. Joel didn't care. "Her husband was cursed, wolf-bitten. He was killing people because he refused to be locked away on the full moon. I had to kill him. I waited until the wolf took hold of him and then I took him down. I did my job as a witcher. That his wife would rather have sacrificed the peasants of their lands than chained her husband, that she would rather they die than her cursed spouse...that she thinks what I have done is murder but not what he did to those families...well, that's telling, isn't it?"

“She’s put a contract out on you. I’ve taken that contract. It is my job as a witcher to-”

You jumped up and looked into his eyes. “Your job as a witcher is not to murder people. Just because our teachers taught us that was the way, that doesn’t mean-”

“Fulfilling a contract is our job. Witchers do not back down from our obligations.”

“She has no right to see me dead, Joel!” you exclaimed. Your emotions were high. Your adrenaline pumping. You were in peak Cat School condition. "She has no right to force my brother to bear the weight of my-"

"Your brothers and sisters have been bearing the weight of your absence, why should I not bear the weight of your death?!" he snapped, hand moving to grab his steel.

"If you draw your blade on me, I will be forced to fight against you. Please, do not force my hand to-" His sword answered for him. You jumped back as he slashed at you. "Joel, don't do this!" you begged.

He gave no indication that your words even penetrated his mind. He continued to attack you as you rolled and dodged, trying desperately to reason with him as he ignored you. His blade slashed into your chest as you tried to avoid him and you screamed in pain as you fell haphazardly to your bedroll. Regret flashed across his face, but he raised his sword above his head anyway.

He had a contract to fulfill. He was going to go through to the end.

You drew a sign in the air and a pulse of energy burst from your hand, knocking him back. It gave you enough time to grab your own steel sword and raise it to him. "Brother, please. In the name of all that is good, don't do this!"

"Do you remember the Trial of Dreams?" he asked. His hands shaking caused his sword to quake above him. You nodded. You remembered your visions. You remembered the sickness and pain. "Did I ever tell you what I saw?"

"No, Joel. None of us wanted to talk after."

"I saw you," he whispered. "I saw you transform into a wolf." Your eyebrows came together. "You stopped being a cat and you became a wolf and I never understood what that vision meant until I heard that song. I never put it together that you left to become a wolf until I heard-"

"That’s not why I left! I can't change my medallion any more than you can! I left to change my life!" You stepped back and he stepped forward. "I didn't want to be a murderer anymore. I just wanted to kill monsters. The-the Wolf was right, but I wasn’t trying to be like him! I was just trying to find myself!"

"You changed. You left and you changed."

"And that’s why I couldn’t come home! That's why I've been alone for twenty years! That's why I've spent nineteen winters renting rooms in inns and taking small contracts to make coin to survive. I changed for the better and I knew our teachers wouldn't be able to see that!"

Your chest wound stung as you panted, blood leaking down the front of you.

"Should I pity you? Should I feel sympathy for your loneliness? You chose this!" He swung his sword and you caught the edge with your own.

"And you chose to take a contract on me!" You parried his sword and swung at him, stepping around and slashing at his back. "Because I left? Because I betrayed you? Because I walked away from Dyn Marv? Not because some noble asked you! This is personal, isn't it?"

"Of course it is!" He twisted away and slashed at you. You parried again and knocked him back, readying to hit him with another Sign. He hit you first, a jet of flame emitting from his palm and burning your face. "You abandoned me!"

You covered your face with one hand and stumbled backward. He grabbed your shirt and pulled you closer, his sword at your throat. Both of you heard the sound of flesh being ripped by the blade of a Witcher's steel blade, but only one of you felt it.

Your eyes went wide and you looked down at the place where your sword was embedded in his chest. "I'm so sorry," you whispered. There was nothing else to say. He let out a few gasping breaths before he fell to your bedroll.

"I'm...more...sister."

Tears rolled down your cheeks as the pain of watching your brother die settled into your bleeding chest. You'd likely always feel guilty about this moment, but there was nothing you could have done. You tried to convince him. You tried to stop him. He refused. He wouldn't let both of you live.

You collapsed to the ground, eyes on Joel's lifeless body prone on your bedding. The pain in your chest was almost as bad as the pain in your heart, but you couldn't move to clean or bandage the deep gash. Your mutations would save you, or you would meet your brother on the other side.

Your blood loss made you cold, or maybe it was the sting of Northern air on blood-sticky skin. You shivered. Your teeth chattered. Your vision tunneled. The darkness took over.

~~~~

Warmth permeated the air and sunk into your body. Pain was gone. Cold was gone. Sadness and guilt remained. You could sense movement to your left, breathing and someone turning pages on a book. A smell of lilac and gooseberries filled the air.

"Shit," you whispered, opening your eyes. The canvas top of a tent greeted your vision. A fire crackled in the middle of the enclosed space. A raven-haired woman sat at a small desk on the opposite side of the tent from the cot you occupied, a book in front of her.

"Are all witchers so vulgar and uncultured? I thought it was just Geralt," she mused, not looking up from her book. You didn't respond. You weren't sure what to say to her. "There's a pitcher of water beside you...if you're thirsty."

You licked your lips as you sat up, looking down to see your bandaged chest. She must have put a healing salve on you, because you felt no sign of pain from it. "Th-thank you...ma'am."

"Don't pretend you don't know who I am and I won't do the same," she said, finally looking up. Her violet eyes caught yours and you swallowed thickly before looking away and reaching down to retrieve the offered water. "We're the stuff of bardic legend, aren't we? Ballads Dandelion has written about us...and Geralt. 'Wolven Storm' sounds so much prettier from Priscilla but I don't think I've ever heard her take on 'Made In Blood'. Do you think it's better than when Dandelion sings it?"

"I've never heard Jaskier's lover sing, so I cannot speak to it." You took a drink of water and sighed. "Yennefer of Vengerberg. If you've heard the song...why would you save me?"

"I should let a woman die simply because she's a rival for the romantic attentions of a man?" She sat back and tapped a finger against her perfect jawline. "I suppose a lesser woman would. Get you out of the way...help Geralt grieve once he's heard the news of your untimely passing. But that would be the lesser woman...and I am am anything but lesser." She stood and stepped closer.

"He wouldn't," you whispered, focusing on her black boots.

'Wouldn't what?"

"Grieve." You looked up. "Geralt barely knows me. He doesn't trust me. We have had...some time together but...I'm no more important to him than the whores he visits in every city he comes to."

Violet eyes searched your face. "Geralt is a man who does not form attachments lightly. So the attachments he does form are special. He's not attached to the whores, Cat."

"Who says he's attached to me?"

"Dandelion, for one," she started. "Ciri, for another." You swallowed down another drink of water and looked away again. You'd never even met Geralt's adopted daughter. How could she possibly know- "Geralt talks about you."

"To Dandelion, I understand, but to Ciri?"

"He trusts her."

"I'm sure he didn't talk about me to Ciri because I mean anything to him." You shook your head. "He's in love with you."

She rolled her eyes. "We were only ever together because Geralt made a wish to a genie," she argued.

"Are you insane?" You stood. "You're gorgeous, intelligent, powerful, men the world over fall at your feet. You honestly believe Geralt only loved you because of the wish?"

"Are you insane?" She flicked her hair off of her shoulder and looked away from you. "You're a witcher. You are more alike to Geralt than I could-"

"No. You're a sorceress," you exclaimed. "You are just as alike. You went through the same sort of-"

"No." She shook her head, ending the conversation. "Try to keep yourself warm, in the future."

You nodded. "Fine. Thank you for your...assistance, Yennefer."

"I won't help for free next time."

You stepped toward the entrance to the tent and pulled the cloth out of the way. "If you...see Geralt…"

"I haven't seen you, of course," she dismissed.

"Of course." You smiled tightly for a moment before walking out of the tent into the crisp Northern air.

[fanoftheimagines]

Warm Embrace

Warm Embrace

Day 3 of Jaskier Whump Week 2023

Pairing: Jaskier/Reader

Prompts: Isolation

Reader Gender: Non-Binary

CW: Hurt/Comfort, isolation, loneliness, touch-starved, hugs, yearning, pre-relationship

Word Count: 515

Summary: After a year apart, you and Jaskier miss each other deeply. Thank Melitele you walked into the right tavern at the right time.

Pre S1 E4

A/N: This takes place in Bēstiārium, but you don’t have to know anything about the story for context. I’m entirely loving the ending, but I’ll probably fix it later.

Tags: @jaskierwhumpweek​ @zana999​

Masterlist | Bēstiārium Masterlist | AO3 Link

Jaskier Whump Week Masterlist | Jaskier Whump Week 2023

It had been just over a year since you last saw Jaskier. You and Geralt had spent that time traveling the Continent hunting monsters. Throughout your travels, you’d heard stories of your favorite bard. His songs followed you in every tavern you visited. You saw him in the little yellow flowers that like to grow on the side of the road. You heard him in the sweet songs the birds sing. And saw his eyes in the way the sunlight shone through the green forest leaves.

Little did you know, Jaskier was feeling the same way.

Jaskier thrives on people. The energy and the liveliness of just being around people filled him, especially when he was in front of a crowd performing. And yet he found himself incredibly lonely. It was a new form of isolation. Don’t get him wrong, he’s traveled alone before, but it was different after traveling with companions for so long. His human interactions ended when he left town or retired to his room. There were no campfire stories or late-night chats. And he found himself missing the company terribly.

You took a deep breath of spring air as you and Geralt walked down the muddy village street. There was a hunt a few villages south Geralt had gotten wind of, but it was a week’s travel at most. A night in the tavern instead of the woods would do you a world of good. Your feet and knees and, well, everything ached. You could use the rest in a proper bed.

Lovely singing was barely audible through the tavern’s thick door. Geralt pushed the door open with ease. A familiar, beautiful, melodic voice filled the room. Jaskier, in a dashing blue outfit, sat on a stool in the back. As always, he was the clear center of attention. He looked up from his lute and scanned the crowd. His eyes lit up when they landed on you and Geralt. A weight you did not realize was there lifted slightly from your chest and you could breathe a bit better. Although you’d loathe to admit it out loud.

The moment he finished his song, he rushed over to you. Before you could get a word in, he pulled you into his embrace. You practically melted at the feeling of his warmth, the strength of his arms around you. Oh, how you missed this. He tucked his face into the crook of your neck and relaxed his shoulders. All the tension and stress of life on the road dissolved.

Geralt loudly cleared his throat. The two of you sheepishly pulled apart. You rubbed the back of your neck awkwardly.

“Ah! Geralt! How lovely it is to see you again!” He cheerfully said.

“Jaskier.” Geralt gruffly acknowledged.

“It’s so good to see you, Jaskier. The year’s treated you well.” You said, taking his hand in yours and giving it a little squeeze.

His eyes softened. “You as well.”

Geralt rolled his eyes. You ignored him. “I’ve missed you, Jaskier. You’ll have to join us again. I love traveling with you.”

“I’d love to.”

[crispyjenkins]

geraskefer "crispy has lost control of their life again" celebration sneak peek

this fic is really really heavy, in ways none of my other works are, so please read the following warnings closely even though i don't actually talk about any of those heavy things in this excerpt this is, however, a story that's very near and dear to me and i really love the world building i've done with it so far, and am actually almost done writing it but it's over 40,000 words and just wanna talk about it 😭

inspired by of music and motion and love (and it’s companion piece) by writethroughthenight on ao3.

warnings/tags: implied/referenced/off-screen sexual assault, canon-typical violence (non-sexual tho), stregobor-typical human experimentation, implied and canon-typical fantastical racism, implied/referenced torture (like it’s not really torture but it’s not NOT torture y'feel?), jaskier whump, no post-mountain geralt vilification, poly-heavy like this is very much a poly fic, minor mind/body control but no outright possession, good valdo marx, jaskier is the sandpiper, angsty but very much with a HAPPY ENDING

 She sighs and lets him kiss his cheek before ushering their strange little party out the door and down a servants’ passageway to the stables. To his relief, it’s just their means of escape, and they don’t actually have to deal with smuggling a horse or two; despite knowing she’ll be back the next time Geralt buys a chestnut mare, Jaskier still mourns whatever current Roach Geralt had to have left behind somewhere between Cintra and Temeria. 

  Also in their favour is the fact that everyone here is quite used to sneaking and hiding for their lives, so it’s quick work to move through Wyzima’s dark streets towards Dandelion. Any time Jaskier has to do something Geralt or Yennefer don’t expect (paying off a watchman here, steering them around patrols there, and even whistling a short code to one of the side business’ other Birds to allow them through a locked gate to cut through someone’s garden), Jaskier feels their curious and considering stares at his back, Yennefer’s with grudging admiration, and Geralt’s with slightly-accusatory guilt. 

  Whatever, Jaskier doesn’t owe Geralt anything, least of all an explanation for his unexplainable skills.

  Luckily, he only has to kill one person during the trek, one of Foltest’s soldiers that recognises Geralt as they pass, and Jaskier doesn’t have time to hesitate, flicking a terribly-thin throwing dagger from his left sleeve with enough force to stick it through the soldier’s throat to the hilt. After he retrieves his dagger, Geralt is back to not looking at him at all.

  They reach Dandelion in just over an hour thanks to shortcuts and an old smuggling tunnel, arriving at a small two-storey cottage in a relatively nice area of the city, with no distinguishing features except a single paper Dandelion in a vase in the curtained front window. Jaskier leads them around to the back (the front doors of all the safehouses are sealed and barred, with magic and wooden slats both), and uses a small burst of his own magic to unlock the door to the cellar.

  He makes sure everyone enters ahead of him, closing and relocking everything with the same touch of chaos that has Yennefer’s nose twitching, then ushers Destiny’s Trio up into the cottage properly.

  It’s sparsely decorated, it’s not exactly meant to house anyone for more than a night at most, but the warm wood furniture and whitewashed walls are actually quite cozy, if Jaskier says so himself. Amused, he watches understanding dawn on everyone’s faces when they see the collection of paper dandelions tied together on the kitchen table.

  Yennefer turns to Jaskier. “Dandelion is the safehouse?”

  “Of course, my dear witch!” Flouncing into the kitchen, he quickly —though not quite painlessly— unslings his satchel to drop it onto the table next to the dandelions. “So are Buttercup, and Chamomile, though in your defense Poppy is very much a person.”

  “Jaskier.”

  He winces, taking a deep breath before finally meeting Geralt’s golden eyes for the first time since he’d burst into Triss’ infirmary. Do Cirilla and Yennefer realise just how much emotion their stoic witcher is showing right then? Pain in the clench of his jaw, confusion and the fear of that confusion held in the tension of his shoulders, worry in the lines of his pursed lips?

  Fuck, this is why Jaskier never wanted to see Geralt again, because he remembers when Geralt used to look at him with that much emotion all the time, back before Yennefer fucked her way into both their lives, back before Geralt had lost them both.

  “Geralt,” he murmurs tiredly, sagging to lean on the back of the chair.  “Why do you have multiple safehouses?” The ‘Why do you need multiple safehouses?’ goes unsaid.

-

[noxspost]

true north

“wait Vese—” she was cut off by him yelling running out of his room to the great hall “Letho get you fucking horse ready wake the other up Jaskeir is going after the bone Hydra!”

Yennifer followed with panic in her bones “what are taking about Vesemir?” asked a very annoyed and slightly panicked Viper as the others with him were walking up “there was a paper about the bone hydra back down the mountain when you came up right!?”

“yes?” he stated as he helped up Triss and Aiden looked at Vesemir “well Jaskier is sumac and he is going after it!” he was yelling now as he was trying to the armory which he was stopped by Letho looks him down and held him by his shoulders. “okay thanks for telling me that our friend is safe,” he narrowed his eyes “I need you to breath or you are going to pass out!” he was louder as Vesemir was making panicked sounds as the others came down. Ciri looked the most sleepy and in Geralt’s arms. Yen looked at Lambert who was mad but scared

“okay Vesemir sumac will be fine he has faced that beast a lot and I am sure he will get the ambrosia and nectar medicine cubes and vials,” he had Vesemir on the ground kneeing and Letho was going to the same “he is a tough bitch who has more beast hunting experience than us since he dealt with more than us. Breath Vesemir, you are okay and he is safe.” Geralt could smell the fear from his dad and he looked to his brothers who look to him. “yeah-h.” Vesemir gulped and nodded “I am so scared, he could be rusty and could die now.” He was hugged by the viper “listen there is a reason why he is named sumac for it is a poison and he is a demigod who parent is the god of madness.”

Then Coen spoke up “who are you talking about was there a man we didn’t was here?” Lambert looked at his friend with confused and disbelief “really we would know if that was the case.”

“well where is Jaskier and who is this Sumac?” asked Ciri and yen nodded Aiden spoke “oh he is a lynx Witcher.” Triss and Yen glazed at the cat and then Letho hums in agreement and then Eskel asked “is Jaskeir sumac the same sumac who taught us?” this makes Geralt and Lambert turned to their brother and then Geralt nods “yeah it can’t be Jaskeir is only 43? How can he be Sumac?”

This makes Vesemir laugh and then starting to cry “Geralt he cares for his skin and also he is older than me.”

He was held closer to the viper and then Yen asked “so we are just ignore the fact that he is a Bacchus child or Bacchus and he is going after a monster in winter and the pass was closed how did he get down there?”

Vesemir got up and walked up to the wall and felt for something on the wall and then his hand stopped and he pressed the stone now and it moved to the left showing a hole big for a good sized box “oh simple Lynx witchers go to hunt for coin more in winter since it is needed and pays more and they are built for the cold so the pass means nothing for Jaskier.” He grabbed the box and blew off the dust on the box and opened it once he put it on the table and they all gathered around the table and they saw the box and it held so much.

Yet they were drawn to the small trinket in the mess and it was made with care and it was a flat disc with a clear dome over the small thin sticks pointing to numbers the short and wider one was slower and the other was faster and thinner. There was a ticking sound as they saw gears and metal moving in a window inside the glass clear dome it was made of copper, gold and white stone.

It looked so pretty and care for. “what is that?” asked Triss who was trying to hold the object when Vesemir grabbed it before her and bark “don’t touch that! It is a gift from Jaskier he got this from one of the tinkering in his caravan of demigods and non-humans. He said it was a pocket watch to tell time.”

He gently held it up with both his hands and then Eskel looked at the back and saw the Engravings on the back and it said time just eats and eats till death comes saving the soul from its maw time does not heal wounds merely numb you to the pain but confrontation and self-growth heals the bones not time.

Ciri saw the engravings and asked “what’s with the engravings on the back?”

 Vesemir turned the thing round and went “I think one of the elders of his school had explained that people off the news the same time heals all wounds as a weak cop out and they’d explained that it merely numbs you to the wrongs and the hurt and the pain which makes sense he was also a child of Hecate a goddess of witchcraft and ghosts he’s a real cool dude from what I remember about him.”

Eskel nodded and then Lambert spoke “let’s go find Jaskier!” he yelled and then Letho looked at him and bark “no just no the pass is too covered and it cold in the morning. Let’s eat and gets some chores done and then we can go.” he got up and went to the kitchen with Aiden and Coen following.

Geralt sighed and spoke “well I think Jaskeir will be fine, he will get back. He has too much self-preservation for his own good.”

this caused Vesemir to burst out laughing which also caused yen to burst out laughing “no he doesn’t and he getting more coin and he will come back later.” the former teacher spoke “he doesn’t he got torture by firefucker. He doesn’t have much.”

Ciri nodded and then she looked at the boxes’ contents and you saw a piece of something shining she reached out for it grabbed it held it above her to see it in the light and it sparkled like a diamond but it was in the shape of a scale she turned over to look at the others and asked “what’s this?”

 Vesemir looked over sighed and said “that’s a hydra scale a hydra scale is actually a diamond compressed and a lot stronger than normal diamonds about roughly same as iron. you get that from bone hydras.” He explained.

yen then remarked “so that explains why you get to keep a dime in death do you kill such a monster after you’re given somewhere between 4000 coin and 15,000 coin.” This makes Lambert looked at Yen “why must it so costly?”

“because the bone hydra is more dangerous than a dragon since it is undead and has four heads next to the normal standard head each one has its own attacks and features I have seen some bear witchers dying to the Magma Spittle. When you weaken it enough the first head which you attacked two other type of the heads will go on the attack same when one third is left.” There was fear in Eskel’s voice who was looking at his brother.

“oh great…”

===

Well after Jaskier had killed the monster he was breathing heavy and his clothing had blood and gold staining. The gold made him looked gaudy and creepy, he was holding the now the bag of bones and diamonds of the monster. He was in the cave where the beast had taken the father.

There was some blood and he looked down at the freaking out man who was shaking and Jaskier smiles “hey I am sumac I was send by your daughter and I am no threat.” He knees down to seem safe and the man spoke “I am john and thanks.” He was careful to hold Jaskier’s hand and then they walked out to daffodil. “don’t worry I will be fine sir I just worried for you.” Jaskeir spoke when saw the worry in John’s eyes.

 Jaskeir smiled at him who was helping him carry the proof and when they got to daffodil Jaskier was quick to the medic supplies and he gave himself his ambrosia meds and then turned to John and went “okay so I am going to clean the wounds and put cool water on the burns on your arms.” He washed the burns in cool running water and then used the rest to the clean off the blood and then wrapped up the wounds “thank you Sumac.” He nodded and placed john on daffodil who snorted and Jaskier looked at him “play nice daffodil.”

Once he was healed by the ambrosia meds he got on the ram and then they were off to the town and back to his family. there was much Excitement and the little girl gladly was rewarding him with compliments and words.

===

After about 6 hours of worrying since the pass was too frozen they were in the training yard near the stables when the witchers smell this faint scent of grapes and the sound of a match being lit they turned to where the sound came from and they for moment thought it was just Yen and Triss doing something.

It wasn’t but only Jaskeir dressed in warm clothing on a ram the size of his horse and Jaskier covered in gold and blood with some being from his own body.

His face was bruised and had some blood on his face near his mouth and nose.

There was purple fire behind Jaskier which swiftly was gone. He was on a ram which was grey and white and had a saddle was made of dark leather and near the back was the saddle bags which stored a lot of Jaskeir things. It also was on top of a lynx skin and the head near to the tail and there was a holding for his axe and the other side was a piece of leather made for holding some scrolls, arrows and a crossbow.

there was also some new things like some daggers, an ice spike and some feathers and a stone.

“oh okay I haven’t done that in years.” he cough a bit and wiped away some spit he was holding the reins to his companion. He looked like a Witcher. Yennifer was right there as Jaskier got off the animal “what the fuck don’t you know that was dumb we couldn’t do shit.”

He looked at her and laughed “you could do shit yen.” The sound of coin came from his bag which was on his animal which he undid and smiled as Yen was spitting out words which made no sense as Geralt spoke “why Jaskier just why you could have died!”

Eskel had stopped training with Ciri who was cheering with Jaskier’s return as the ram belting out a cry of distress which made the other stop thanks to Letho call out “leave the poor demigod alone he just got back.” He was soon in the arms of Jaskeir in a hug which lifted him off the ground.

“Hello again dears.” Jaskeir said as daffodil was walking to Letho and Vesemir waiting near the doors. “You still are very strong Sumac. I missed these hugs.” He hugged back and lifted Jaskeir off the ground.

Vesemir went to check Jaskeir when he was let go “I hope you had Nectar and Ambrosia meds right? And did you get the money you are going to get?” Lambert and Coen looked at Jaskier’s outfit which was like a bear’s but also a wolf.

“Yes, Vesemir I did I got about half of it and then the big diamond and the rest when I got back.” He turned to Lambert and Coen who swiftly asked “so you do contacts in winter?”

“Yeah, it is fun and reminds me of home.” Then Eskel asked, “what was fire and you getting back?” he got a confused looked from Ciri who nodded with Eskel’s statement and Yen nodded too and asked, “yeah why?”

“oh right I forgot to tell Geralt and Yen. I am a demigod to the god Bacchus.” He smiles “which one of the powers I have is teleporting in a burst of purple fire and it followed by a faint scent of grapes. It drains me more than the other powers, so I have to be careful.”

“Okay all the powers drain you?” asked Eskel and then Jaskier smiles "yeah so i don't try to use too much. please be careful around Daffodil he isn't used to teleportation because we haven't done it in a while." he said as they were going to the stables to untacked the ram and put him back in the stables.

"I thought your horse's name was Pegasus?" spoke Aiden Jaskeir turn to him "of course it does that's his middle name it's also his code name anyway what's for food?" as they get back to the doors they see Letho just glaring at Jaskier "fucker." Letho spoke to Jaskier before getting a kiss on the back of the hand from Jaskier "i know, we will have money for spring and there is a reason why i go out during winter."

Geralt sighed and Eskel smiles and making a aww sound which get Coen to Jab him in the side with his elbow. which get Lambert to laugh. "oh please. calm down you two." spoke Vesemir as Triss then spoke "well i was thinking some stew and some rolls."

this makes Jaskeir smile She told smile as warm as the sun and he goes "I remember that was a common staple on the caravan travels really spoke one of the other witchers yeah we called it monsters too because we often used the meat and organs from some types of creatures in our stew combining with shrimp and cow or pig the rolls often had a meat or vegetable inside and cooked hard on the outside but be very chewy and doughy on the inside so we called them turtle rolls because they were often shaped like a turtle as well."

he explained as they went inside then Aiden asked, "so we know somewhat about the schools on this side of the continent what are some notable trials for your school?" everyone looked at the cat Witcher confused and a little bit scared.

they all sighed  when their friend explained "well there is the trial of the iceberg the trial of the night escape and the trial of Half Moon half Moon was testing your abilities with everything to do with an apothecary," he explained they walked to the Great Hall they were intently listening "the trial of the night escape was how to survive in... it's been a while since I've had that trial but most the time it was going on a quest for a powerful being and how to escape most of time we did at night the trial of the iceberg was a lot like the trial of the grass is for you guys but ours is much worse or equally as worse depending how you see it that's all I'm going to say."

he was sitting down as he was carrying the bag with the Reward but also a couple other things most of the time the items that he was putting on the table were from his own pouches and bags around his waist and hips thanks to his belts he looked tired in a way they saw a couple other scars specifically one that was peeking out on his neck. It looked like an ice burn.

They see his cloak which around the collar area where the wolf fur was had animal and human skulls on it but the rest of the cloak was made of bear hide the outside had the bear fur and the inside was while the inside of the bear fur it looked terrifying when Yennifer had asked what's with the human skulls?"

Eskel nodded and then Jaskier turned his head and spoke "simple they're from mages who tried to kill me don't worry I didn't kill them too brutally only after they died I cut off their heads ripped off their skin, hair and eyeballs only having their skulls remaining fix the skulls so they don't leak everywhere," they all were Shocked and uncomfortable looking at him as if he was dangerous except for Vesemir and Letho. "I buried their hearts as a sign of respect have acknowledging the life that I have taken I do that with beasts that I kill. i am not completely heartless."

Coen then asked "why burying the heart? it sounds like you leave the rest of the body out for the wild to take."

the  Witcher reaches down to his water skin drinks it and thinks for a moment obviously still sitting down but everyone waited with faded breath Geralt specifically same with his surprise child Ciri who was watching patiently "well in my school specifically," Jaskier states his tone now turning serious "we learn that no matter what you do for coin may that be assassinating Or doing anything that involves taking a life you're supposed to bury their heart in the ground decent way down you're supposed to wait 10 minute is the common number, then you walk on it symbolizes you understanding the life you have taken we did that with everyone May they be really terrible May they be not but with a really terrible people and the people we just don't like we're very passive aggressive about it well we do the bare minimum by digging a shallow grave and lightly covering up with our heart and then when you leave the elements and the animals to deal with it." 

he smiles "our teachers and elders were very strict about it and Chiron would take a bottle of white gull a cloth and the lights the cloth which is half way in the bottle and throw it on the ground near us when training when We're disrespecting the dead because in In the Lynx School there was an abundance of non-humans demigods specifically who had ties to all the different underworlds not just the Slavic or Greek underworlds and we don't like accidentally piss off the wrong underworld deity."

he chuckles "i never got it but Leo taught me the alcohol bomb after he got the treatment as well." then Aiden sits down next to him as Triss and Yen were off to make food. Ciri asked Jaskeir "what is the trial of the Iceberg?"

Geralt and then Eskel went "yeah what is it? it sounds intriguing." Jaskeir rubbed his chin a little bit and rubbed his mouth from the excess water that he drank and he said It is a trial that involves you being on an iceberg at 10:30 35 ish at night during winter you brought a thick bed mat a thick blanket a slow flower lantern which does not burn like normal fire you're supposed to survive till 2:00 AM in the morning and then they come to you with a nice pike a very thick and long rope two nails that are twice as long as the ice Pike and a hammer and you're supposed to climb up to halfway up the iceberg," he saw the disbelieving looks from Lambert before he went on to explain how tall the icebergs usually were "and by the way these things are way taller than you think so the above ground is tall and just seems to get halfway up there and you're supposed to do that before sunrise usually people if they survive the crime get up there around 4:00 AM and they're supposed to climb it down without breaking their chunks on the way down and they're supposed to do that before 6:00 AM we only lose like 6 students every two years to that trial before the school went under heavy revision we lost more." 

And they all knew how I got cold how cold it got during the night it was terrifying they were all stunned then Vesemir walked over holding Jaskier's pocket watch "thanks i thought i told you that was your now?" Vesemir smiles and then put it around his neck "thanks also i would check on Letho he is speaking in that one tongue of elder what is it called?" they all listen to the sound of someone speaking in another tongue it was really yelling but quieter.

"oh my goodness he is speaking and oh my goodness he is speaking in Spanish again oh no. yeah i am on it." Jaskier takes off his cloak and then his boots and walks back into the kitchen where Triss is talking "yeah i don't know what he is saying help Yen."

"well i don’t--" she was quiet when Jaskeir was yelling in the same language "¿¡Te callarás por el amor de los dioses!? ¿Por qué estás gritando?" this makes Letho glare and then place down the dish and points to it "Jodieron el guiso poniendo primero la carne del conejo y sin esperar a que hirviera el agua y el aceite así me enseñaste." he had stopped yelling.

Jaskeir spoke "yeah but it is still going to work Even though the vegetables and the seasonings supposed to go in first but let them do it and stop yelling."

and then he walked straight back out and Letho turned to both women and apologized obviously explaining that he had been taught how to make this specific stew a couple other times and usually the vegetables and seasoning oil and water goes in first then the meat. they nodded and understanding. Letho was following Jaskeir when Letho picked up Jaskeir and So my you've gotten heavier."

 he turned Jaskeir's body to face him Jaskier looked down at him slightly and said of course I have I've been eating healthier and more gotta make sure that I stay Insulated he joked as he leaned closer to nuzzled his nose with his own which got Letho to kiss him on the nose a couple times "I missed you." he said sweetly.

Jaskier smiles. as he heard Ciri asking Vesemir about how he knew Jaskier and why his Witcher name was Sumac "do you want to sing True north?" asked Vesemir when they both got back.

"sure." he smiles as he got his Lute and then Letho sat down next to the cloak and then resting his bones. as Jaskier was singing and Eskel was happy to hear this for he had only heard his father Vesemir singing the tone.

"They say it's a cold place Icy and grey With a wind that cuts through Marrow and bone I've heard the earth cracks open wide Before your eyes and might." he sang as he was Strumming along on his loot as lethal provided the drums by tapping his foot to the rhythm.

"Swallow you whole They say you can get lost for days In landscapes of big emotions In the endless night when the sun doesn't care To crawl out of bed behind the oceans." he sang low and soft but they were Intrigued to listen all their eyes including the two mages that were making dinner we're all listening and had their eyes on him as he was enjoying preforming for his family in the winter.

"We never learned to use a compass We never learned to read these maps We always yearned for far-off kingdoms We never found a straight way back And it's a miracle A miracle." his voice was higher now as His magic which was showing small coffee cup size spectacles of what he was talking about, and they were seeing on how they travel not relying on compasses maps or anything like that but pure instinct in far off kingdoms.

"We found true north True north." he sang with Letho as they saw the moose and siren hunts same with the trials of flesh and bone. they saw the demigod wars mixing with Elven wars. they were seeing the caravan which would put the cat school to shame.

"They say it's an old place With ancient tales Of violence and war Passion and soul But I've seen the West Bleed into the East." they saw the monster hunts and then the bone hydra hunts and such they were amazed as they saw the Place called Coldora which was filled with wars, blood and death yet life hidden in snow and winds.

"Like a slow breeze Blowing ripples of hope And I know I could get lost for life Inside these stories I've heard 'Cause it all just shows that what we know Is just the tip, the tip, the tip of the iceberg." then they see the trial of the iceberg. he was smiling as they see eyes around his head which looked around and Ciri was laughing as they saw the witchers were chasing around each other’s.

"We never learned to use a compass We never learned to read these maps We always yearned for far-off countries We never found a straight way back And it's a miracle A miracle We found true north True north." then he smiles as he ends his singing and then Aiden asked "so how bad is being a lynx?"

Jaskeir sits and then drinks some more from his water skin and then he laughed "a lot more than you think for demigods leave a scent behind demigods often leave a strong scent for monsters and beasts and creatures to find them oh woo," he chuckles as he drinks more "also the ones that don't have the sin but still are demigods their souls are tracked by their monsters relating to their pantheons challenge yourselves lucky at least you ain't constantly being hunted by creatures and beasts trust me it's much worse than you think."

they nodded and the Yen asked "is it worth it?"

"yeah of course you just have to more vigilant when it comes to where monsters can be commonly found so a lot of demigods have this ability hard wired into their genetics when they're born that makes them vigilant and have easier time fighting so we more prepared for battle but at least all of us can walk on the snow only and only sink two inches to three inches into the snow which is very useful."

"really any stories?" asked Vesemir and Jaskier laughs "yeah there is this game called capture the flag where all the demigods who share the same godly parent or immortal parent team up with others and then they go up Popular team which is made up of different groups of demagogues that share the same godly or immortal parents like we had Demeter Kids Apollo kids Ares kids and one team and then we got Leshy kids hades and Poseidon kids on a other team and then we fight to take the other team's flag.

But what are my favorite stories is about the one time Perseus the second and I got in a fight he couldn't leave the infirmary for weeks because I actually caused him to go mad because he was saying some really nasty things about me and my family and they can fund the fact that my godly parent was a washed up god his quote not mine I got really mad I punched him in the face and then I caused him to go mad okay unconscious with nightmares for about a week because we had to go get Poux from camp aka the other school building we have."

He was laughing "but there's also another time where Zeus Jupiter and Hera Juno all got cursed out by Letho we were in one of the camps and Vesemir was hiding in the corner panicked behind me as Zeus phase got more and more twisted as if he sucked three-week-old lemons it was so funny we finally got a slight cut to the head as the four gods went away after being humiliated."

Letho was laughing and then spoke "right there was the one time All three of us got in a town fight and Vesemir looked like he just walked out of a war demigod kids blood fight fest. there was so much blood everywhere and you were laughing like a maniac." the others were stun as they were about to eat when they heard these stories and Yen was trying to cover Ciri's ears.

and then Vesemir spoke "ohh my goodness I missed I missed those days well we didn't have to worry about leading our respective schools we could just be absolutely chaotic but we did have to hide it occasionally because of the other masters of the schools holy crap they never liked you they absolutely hated you."

he slapped his knee as they were laughing Vesemir accepted some food from one of the mages and said "of course I couldn't have my gremlin ears I had to be mature and I had to be Mature before i could raise those four." then  Jaskeir laughed and then spoke "remember when i was on a quest for Celtic goddess and it landed me here and then I crashed through the ceiling that was a very confusing time because me and Letho were running after a chicken that just was been mutated really badly and it had the item we wanted but we had to go get it for like a deity who had another item we needed for the Celtic deity we terrified so many young butchers in training ohh I didn't explain to them but no we did not just mutate this chicken to chase it around the place ohh my goodness and some visiting bear witchers we even screaming like young girls and it wasn't even a spider."

the three nodded as the others were quiet and Lambert was just standing there holding his cup of white gold and it plate of food stunned because of what he just heard "wait remember that bathhouse quest oh was so uncomfortable so many nymphs so few missed it would be really useful to just like block that out of my memory why did you have to drag us along on that quest?"

"I told you guys not to follow me interjected Jaskier "but of course you did because you guys are like no you can't go on a super dangerous quest for Poseidon we have to come with you and they got traumatized we had to fight against a yokai it was terrifying so weird ohh the smell of that guy was disgusting." the Geralt turned to the bard and asked "do you get paid for the quests?"

"well Yeah but we didn't get paid for the requests besides having our own lives till like 500 years ago yeah." the Grimace really told the rest what and why that was really sad till: "really why?" asked Coen "because the gods and immortal beings giving us those quests and give us money or payment that actually was worth crap till 500 years ago because of Percy Jackson and sally Jackson who is the grandmaster of the school."

they nodded and then Triss spoke "well i am glad you guys are getting paid." she got smiles from Jaskier who went to the food and ate. he swore he saw a Wolf Witcher smiling waving in the window and Jaskier nodded to the window. the smell of family was thick and welcomed.

[whaticannotshowyou]

“Jaskier,”

The bard looked up from the man’s arm, his hands occupied with patching up a gnarly gash running across the lower half. Geralt had come back from a hunt about half an hour ago, sweaty and tired, but alive nonetheless. With a grunt he had disrobed his armour to turn in for the night, only stopped as Jaskier had urged to get a better look at the clearly bleeding wound.

“I’m fine,” the witcher had murmured, turning his body just slightly to make Jaskier’s attempt at grabbing his arm harder. “It will heal just fine, witchers’ bodies do that.”

“I don’t care what your bodies are capable of alone, not when I can help things along.”

After that Geralt had been less of a bastard and allowed his help, though reluctantly so.

Silence had filled the space between them, oppressing and thick unlike the regular silence that followed in the witcher’s wake. He was thinking, his lips parting for but a moment as to speak only for the words to sink back into his lungs just as quickly. His golden eyes studied Jaskier’s movements in more detail - with care and anxiety - much like a sheltered young lady on her first night in town, desperately searching for the rhythm in a conversation to add her own verse. The bard knew this dance and he would leave the man to find his balance, looking up with a gentle face as he took his first steps.

“Yes?”

The immediate regret was evident on the witcher, though for any commoner would be invisible. His eyebrows furrowed just barely, the constant wrinkle digging but microscopically deeper, as the corners of his lips twitched downward so minutely even Jaskier could have missed it had he not been looking. He wanted out, was in too deep and for a few seconds he was treading the water. A few more passed and he evidently decided that drowning was okay.

“What is humanity?”

Jaskier wasn’t as taken aback by the question as he would have assumed himself to be. Geralt was a man of philosophy, though he himself would probably disagree, but rarely the kinds that a poet would conjure. He spoke of morality and politics, but the very essence of the mind and soul not something he bothered himself with. A clear and easy laugh left Jaskier’s lips at the question. Not to mock, but from the heat of familiarity.

“Oh, witcher,” he smiled, looking back down at the task at hand. Even if a witcher could heal all on it’s own, he wanted nothing but to help. And despite the borderline uselessness of his act, Geralt let him. “If we both search, perhaps we would have an easier time finding out.”

[taleswrittena]

Rare are moments where Geralt feels content and peaceful. They do not happen, his guard is always up, he is always hyperaware of everything going on around him. After all, it is how he was taught ever since he was a young boy. Let your guard down for even a moment and it could be a Witcher's undoing.

But, moments like this, where it's just him and Jaskier and it's peaceful leaves Geralt wondering if letting his guard down every once in a while isn't such a bad thing. He's always aware, of course, but maybe he can relax sometimes.

Honestly, he feels a little guilty for asking Jaskier to stay when he's clearly soaked to the bone. He could have headed for his own bath at this point and yet this bard, this wonderful and kind bard, is here with him simply because he asked him to be.

How utterly selfish of him to ask him to stay and yet not offer the chance for him to join him in the tub. For half a moment, he considers at, but he does not want to give the wrong impression when he is still so confused about his own feelings regarding Jaskier.

He shifts in his spot to turn slightly, setting the mug of ale aside after another sip before grabbing the washcloth, to begin with his arms, washing off the dirt and grim with ease. Thankfully, there's not a lot, and there's no blood or monster guts on his body either. No need for harsh scrubbing.

He almost feels annoyance at the tease, almost, he knows it is in good-natured fun, and when he returns his gaze to Jaskier, his feline eyes are full of amusement. He is not that old compared to some Witchers, though by human standards he must be.

"Humans are far more fragile than I am, Jask. But then, you're not entirely human either." He won't argue with Jaskier about trying to get warm, even if the temptation is there. If the bard gets sick, well, that is his own doing and he will not have any complaining after the fact.

Of course he remembers, he does not need to answer that, but head tilts slightly to the left at Jaskier as he waits for the man to finish speaking. Where is he going with this?

Ah, that awful outfit that Geralt wanted to set fire too using Igni.

"Don't tell me you plan on putting me in something like that again?"

He much rather rip it to shreds than to put something so utterly ridiculous on again. His armor is just fine, thank you. "It was hideous and I felt exposed without my armor." A Witcher without protection in a room full of people is bad enough, the sensory overload he had suffered from that night by the time it was over was even worse. Too many smells, too many sounds, too much all at once.

Not that Geralt will ever let Jaskier in on that. To let him in on that would be to allow him to feel guilty for something he didn't even know in the first place, he will not do that to him.

That smile on Jaskier's face (that causes his heart to skip a beat) as he thinks about it, well he almost thinks the outfit had been worth it if it leaves Jaskier smiling at the memory.

Almost.

𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. tell geralt off a little and then he'll be sidetracked by the snippy little way he takes charge. it's been a roundabout way of getting out of conversations for many years , and even if it's obvious , they've never talked about it. and neither will they apparently talk about this new trait geralt has for purring like a happy kitten scratched behind the ears.

he tries to forget it , busy himself with the usual routine of taking care of geralt in ways he can't quite refuse. cloak and leather set by the fire , jaskier must take a breath before he joins him again , and it only takes a glance for him to curse the witcher just a little. he's thankful those golden eyes are closed , for then they might not see his clinging stare.

there's nothing new to see , of course not , he's helped this man dress and bathe for some twenty years now ---- but the rarity of the expression that lies so serene on geralt's face is what makes his heart beat like it hurts. might as well be palpitations for how he can feel each take such a root in his body , like there's a hand around his heart , squeezing the life out of it. calm. soothed. so much less worrying him for just a short while.

a meander over to him , cup filled with ale and offered to geralt with all the casual manner they're used to. and maybe once they're back in such a place , after what's been quite some time , things almost feel like they never changed. but he has. and so has geralt , and the nature of this content quiet between them. in a way he never would have thought himself capable of , and yet ---- here they are.

he pours his own ale , shoving over a stool from the corner of the room with his foot as he goes. never quite capable of doing things in the right order , or one at a time , but he'd rather call that a talent. wet boots kicked off , his coat long left behind with geralt's cloak by the fire , and in the warmth of these rooms his damp clothes don't trouble him much.

jaskier shrugs at the question , peering at himself in the small mirror that hangs on a single nail on the wall. mottled with rust , but he can just about see himself within it well enough. swipes smudged liner from beneath his eyes , and tucks his hair behind his ears so that it doesn't tickle at his face as it dries. he looks tired , yes , but righting these little things helps.

' i can wait. i know the cold can settle into your old bones much quicker than mine. ' just a slight catty , but jaskier's smirk as he looks back at geralt is playful indeed. a long drink of ale , and he saunters over to his seat with an ease that he's settled into. and right here does it take him back , to another night like this. one that set so much in motion and yet , such talks they'd had before. maybe he should start wondering if he has the gift of prophecy.

' do you remember , that night in cintra? the night pavetta married , the curse was broken , you know ---- ' a flourish of his hand , geralt knows the night he means. the night he called the law of surprise. but jaskier's gaze drifts off ... and he smiles as he remembers. reminiscing on the smaller details that don't matter to anyone who writes the histories or wants to hear the stories. brows rise. ' you were very mad about the outfit i'd gotten for you. ' @taleswritten

[stolensilmarils]

so maybe it happens like this.

maybe there are fae living in the Upside-Down and Other Side of Things and Places in their sunlit halls and starlit gardens unbothered by and uninterested in the plagues beyond the borders of their dwellings. but the humans who now so selfishly shape earth and claim everything they touch as their own are so delightfully fun to play with and torment and maim

so maybe it’s just a common sense to keep a sprinkle of salt or an iron nail in your pocket when you go about your work in the fields or walk through meadows. steps careful, eyes sharp

except maybe there’s an unattended toddler stumbling through rings of mushrooms and chasing bees, giggles and clumsy jumps over rain puddles, whom no one cared to warn

(and human children are such marvelous little creatures - you can’t really blame the fae when this one is practically banging on their front doors)

maybe they don’t even bother to place a Changeling in julian’s place as the wind and tree roots lead him from his bed and through the window, bare feet ankle-deep in mud

maybe there is a Fae King to whom all the twisted creatures bow, who’s in a sour mood that night. maybe they seek entertainment (or maybe they just plan to tear the child’s head off)

but maybe the crown they wear is studded with buttercups and even if the child has only now learned to walk and talk, he knew singing even before he took his first breath and the poison yellow flowers do so inspire a song and oh.

maybe instead of unwilling blood taken there is a gift freely given. maybe there is the gift accepted and maybe there is a Boon bestowed

(and what boon is more gracious than the taste of grin sharp, black lips, teeth too many?)

and so maybe the child is returned home that night with dreams filled with pollen and starlight and bitter taste of summerwine. and where julian went to sleep jaskier wakes up none the wiser

his oh so dear parents have never cared, his oh so tired governess - circles of black under empty eyes, fingers like a bow, wrapped around a bottle neck. and the boy is a child whose memories still haven’t learned to cling, so maybe the days and weeks turn to months and years and life goes on

and it may not even be his singing or musical talents, that all can be him still. but maybe there are the little things that no one cares to notice or consider. because after all, who really knows how well exactly does a human eye see in the dark. who really pays attention to how fast small wounds heal

and is it not obvious? maybe the poison accidentally drunk was just a dose not lethal

ordinary people often have unordinary talents so is it really worth a notice if someone learns just slightly too fast, if under someone’s hands flowers grow just a little more lush and if at someone the wild dogs don’t dare to bark?

and if his fingers tingle while holding iron, well. he’s a poet not a smith. and if he tastes blood and ash in the back of his tongue when he’s about to tell a lie, well.  growing up, every village woman, grandmother and hag made sure to remind him that lying is bad and well. the taste of it is bad, they must have meant. it seems unnecessary anyway.

after all... the meanings of truth and honesty are not even closely related

(songs don’t count, of course. when lyrics rhyme and fit the note then they ring true, that’s a fact any poet knows)

and maybe he likes to know the names of people he meets, maybe the sound of them said out loud sparkles, taste of ripe peaches on his tongue but what of it. names have power. that’s a known fact, for names or enchantments, it must surely be the same for all

and maybe under the glow of pale stars, in the flare or fire spark or between the green spots that cloud one’s sight on a day too bright the shining eyes and teeth too sharp appear just s flash. A dream. A trick of light. (if a glamour has never been acknowledged or asked to be lifted, how could one then say it even exists?)

maybe people notice somehow. children tug on his sleeves, eyes wide, fingers reaching for his lute demanding a song. adults bite lips and flutter lashes, his music welcome in their ears, his breath welcome on their skin. but there’s something, something shifting beneath on the Upside-Down and Other Side, and it’s what soon after makes their steps away a little faster. he’s sweet, the bard, but talks too much. he’s sweet, the bard, but like his music he’s just a fleeting thing, an enjoyment for a night. he’s sweet, the bard, and he is as human as they come.

geralt, of course, doesn’t realise. amber eyes watchful and bright don’t even see dragon scales underneath the wrinkles of the old man with whom they dine. but after all, the medallion is quiet when there is no magic casted. no spells, no curses, no monsters. (a boon. a gift. a blessing, nothing more.) jaskier is as human as they come.

yennefer frowns when reaching into his thoughts, the walls of his mind sticky like honey, sweet like tree sap. (but maybe the bard just found a new way to annoy the pure hell out of her, why wouldn’t he?) she pays attention but all he does is trip over his words and feet, please. he’s as human as they come.

maybe, in the end, it happens as it often does, with the last man standing.

maybe it’s creatures, maybe it’s soldiers, doesn’t really matter what form the monsters take. but geralt is down and bleeding, yennefer is helpless and screaming and ciri, oh gods, ciri -

and jaskier’s hands are empty and trembling and he’s

useless, useless, useless bard. human as they come.

and maybe that’s when there’s the ever softest sound of hope lost, tears spilled like dew

and maybe that’s when there are insects buzzing, tree roots cracking, air filled with the scent of rain on fresh leaves, the skin-crawling hum of Other

and maybe that’s when there are the too bright eyes and the too sharp teeth and fingers all claws and after?

after.

after, when the ground is sated with fresh blood spilled, when wounds are treated and healed, then maybe all there is left is a lot of confused shouting

(‘how did you not know?!’ and ‘how did you not know?!’ and ‘of Course only you could get yourself snatched by fae!’ and ‘how dare you! i don’t even know what that means!’ and ‘precisely, you moron!’)

and after, maybe the world stays richer for one trickster, one immortal, one bard

(to his own delight)

(to many others’ misery)

and maybe. just maybe.

maybe there is a laughter in the air like clinking of wind chimes, like flutter of wings, like creaking of rotten wood, like the last sigh of a man dying. the Fae King cackles, the buttercups on their crown gleaming.

‘Now the real fun begins’

[saltytransidiot]

I think the part 2 of Pathway To Your Lips will have a sprinkling, a hint, a tasteful flavoring of soulmate Geralt and Jaskier... 

Why, you ask? I have two reasons: 

1 -- I’m gay and I need some happiness in those trying times, so it’s Treat Yo Self in writing moments 

2 -- Considering the short time frame, it’ll solve so many of my issues

Oh and it allows me to not break my mind trying to make it fit properly in a world where Geralt doesn’t like... open up to people... 

[shy-urban-hobbit]

Hello! Are you still doing the 24 touch prompts? If yes, can I request 15 with Eskel and Jaskier, please?

Sorry for the wait!!! ❤️

Jaskier and Eskel 15 - gently kissing the others knuckles 😊.

“Just so you know, it feels really bizarre being on the other side of this particular scenario.” Jaskier commented as he gently manipulated a hand much larger than his own to better assess the damage.

One of the inn patrons had recognised Jaskier even without his usual, grumpy travel companion present. Usually this would be something to make the bard preen like the bird Geralt often compared him to but unfortunately, this same prick chose to heckle him throughout his entire set and then decided to start with the “Witcher’s whore” comments when he’d finished, which had Jaskier ready to give this already rather unbecoming fellow a broken nose to go with his sallow complexion (it wasn’t the insult itself per se, but Jaskier was no Saint and a man could only turn the other cheek so many times in one night). Until a semi familiar blur of black and red beat him to it, and that was apparently how Eskel decided to let the bard know that he was in town.

Luckily for them, the innkeeper saw the sense in not even trying to throw Jaskier out now that one of his non-human companions had made an appearance and hastily agreed that the other had bought it on himself, making no move to try and aid the now unconscious and bleeding man as Jaskier pulled Eskel up the stairs behind him, the Witcher stammering out half an apology although who exactly it was directed to, Jaskier couldn’t say.

That’s how they ended up in their current position in Jaskier’s room, both of them perched on the edge of the bed with Jaskier still keeping hold of Eskel’s hand as he leaned over to grab the small bottle of spirit he used as a disinfectant after proclaiming the others knuckles to be just grazed from the force of his punch.

“I could have told you that about ten minutes ago, Jaskier. It’ll be healed in a couple of hours.” Eskel stated.

“Oh, hush you. What would Geralt say if he found out I left his brother all hurt and bloody? Especially when it happened because he was defending my honour.” Jaskier proceeded to gently dab at the split skin across Eskel’s knuckles, seemingly unaware of how much effort it was taking his patient to not give into temptation and wrap his fingers around the smaller, softer hand in response.

“Like he’s never punched anyone for you before.”

Jaskier gave a huff of a laugh, “He doesn’t have to fight all my battles for me, and neither do you.” He paused to boop the end of Eskel’s nose, “I’m a big boy. I can deal with a few town assholes throwing insults at me. You didn’t have to get involved.”

“Hello Pot, have you met Kettle?” Eskel asked dryly, causing Jaskier to bluster slightly at being called out, “Just because you can doesn’t mean you have to.”

“Oh, I see how it is. It’s fine when you lot say that.” Jaskier smirked, “Done! And...you didn’t have to, but it doesn’t mean I’m not grateful that you did. Thank you for being so gallant, dear Witcher.”

 Eskel felt his face heat up as Jaskier pressed a kiss to his now treated knuckles like he was the love interest in one of those romance stories and not some huge, scarred Witcher,  “Seriously though. Can we get back to the usual dynamic between myself and Witchers? I’m not sure I’m entirely liking this role reversal.”

 

Eskel knocked on the doorframe after purposely making his footsteps louder to give ample warning but even so, Jaskier still flinched where he was sat on the examination table. Curling his now bandaged hands against his chest as best as he could seemingly on reflex.

“Ah, Eskel! Everything alright?” He asked with forced brightness.

“Something we should have asked you much sooner.”  He said gently as he came further into the room, trying to make himself look as small as he could and keeping his movements slow and deliberate. Between the torture and the imprisonment, the last thing he wanted was to make the bard feel trapped again, “May I?” He held a hand out palm upwards between them, leaving Jaskier the choice of whether to close the distance or not.

Jaskier hesitated before reaching out and placing one hand into Eskel’s, the Witcher running the ends of his fingers over skin and linen as delicately as if he were stroking a birds wing. He didn’t know every single detail but he knew enough from the very loud, very animated ‘discussion’ that had occurred between wolf, witch and bard earlier that day and has ended in Jaskier being dragged by the elbow to the infirmary.

“You didn’t tell him anything.”

The wonder in Eskel’s voice must have sounded too much like disbelief, as Jaskier shook his head rapidly in response, “Nothing. I promise I didn’t tell him anything about here, or Geralt, or Ciri. I-”

Eskel gently shushed him, feeling Jaskier's pulse jumping rabbit quick in his wrist underneath his fingers. He was suddenly struck by the desire to press a kiss to the tips of those poor, talented fingers but considering they were currently hidden away under layers of salve and bandage....

He brushed his lips against Jaskier’s knuckles, holding the gaze of wide, blue eyes as he did so and wondering briefly if the hitch in Jaskier’s breathing was a product of his imagination.

“Thank you for being so brave, dear bard.”

[samstree]

“It’s strange.” Geralt frowns, pressing his forehead to Jaskier’s. “Your fever still hasn’t broken.”

Jaskier’s skin flushes hot, his breathing quick and labored, his scent threaded with exhaustion. His body is slumped against a mountain of pillows but still needs to borrow support from Geralt to stay upright. It’s truly pitiful how weak the human body is if a simple cold can last this long.

Geralt checks his temperature every time Jaskier looks slightly better, but every time he finds Jaskier’s skin burning against his, and now is no exception.

“Perhaps I…” Jaskier exhales, leaning into Geralt’s space. “I just need more time.”

“Hmm.”

Geralt pulls away, opening his eyes. The sight of Jaskier sick is not something he wants to see for long—his face is unhealthily red, his eyes glistening with ever-present tears. Some deeply buried part of Geralt’s heart aches when thinking about Jaskier in pain.

“Oh,” Jaskier says, “You are staring at me.”

For some reason, his face becomes even redder. Ever the shells of his ears are pink now, so Geralt touches it, tucking the stray hair away from Jaskier’s face.

“I don’t understand,” Geralt answers, feeling the warm air between them. “The healer said it should be down two days ago, but every time I check it seems to spike again—”

“Don’t think too much of it!” Jaskier interrupts, his voice rather panicked. “We humans are like this, you know that.” he laughs without humor. “Unreasonably fragile and all.”

“Still, maybe I’m checking the wrong way.” His hands are normally colder due to his slower heartbeat, so Geralt has been using his forehead. It should be more accurate. “Let’s see again.”

With that, he cups Jaskier’s cheeks in his palms and rests their foreheads together once more.

A gasp escapes Jaskier’s lips. It must be his body’s reaction to the discomfort.

“Geralt…”

“Don’t move.” Geralt nuzzles, trying to calm Jaskier but his heart rate is picking up, his breaths also coming in deep and shuddering. “Can you take deep breathes for me?”

Jaskier does as he is told, and Geralt concentrates on catching signs of the lingering illness.

This time, Jaskier is scorching hot under Geralt’s fingertips, even worse than a moment ago.

It’s strange indeed.

“Your breathing doesn’t sound right,” Geralt muses. “Let’s hope it’s not an infection.”

“There’s…ahem,” Jaskier clears his throat. “There’s nothing major, I promise.”

But worry only creeps up in Geralt’s chest. “Your voice has gone deep.”

Jaskier croaks, “it’s not dee—”

“There.” Geralt catches the rasp in Jaskier’s voice. “Now it’s all hoarse too. Your fever has been burning for days, and it’s getting worse. It doesn’t make sense.”

At that, Jaskier flinches nervously like he’s trying to hide something, and Geralt can’t help but soften. It must be hard with the fever coming and going. On top of it, there’s the discomfort of his quickened heart and irregular breathing—all terrible symptoms from the cold.

Jaskier must be reluctant for Geralt to see the lingering effects of his sickness, so he doesn’t get left behind.

“I’m fine,” Jaskier says, straining his voice carefully like he’s putting on a mask for a performance. Even his pupils are blown wide. It must be the delirium from the fever, but he’s still trying to reassure Geralt.

Geralt dislikes this very much.

“Hey.” He runs a hand down Jaskier’s back. “It’s okay. We’ll stay for as long as you need. And I’ll be here and take care of you.”

“You will?” A hint of smile tugs at Jaskier’s lips, so Geralt nods gently.

He gestures for Jaskier to make space on the bed and places himself on top of the covers. Jaskier’s cheek presses against Geralt’s collarbone, waves of heat still coming off of him, and every time Geralt tries to soothe him with more touches, Jaskier lets out a small, high-pitched, sad sound. So Geralt touches him more.

“You are so good to me when I’m sick.”

“Hmm.” Geralt tilts his chin so Jaskier is more comfortable. “Don’t get used to it. I’ll need to check you every day, and as soon as the fever is done, we will prepare for leaving.”

“You’ll have to wait for a long time,” Jaskier mumbles through a yawn.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Jaskier is not even thinking straight anymore. With his strange cold somehow getting worse for no reason at the most random times, he must be exhausted.

The poor bard.

Geralt hums softly as he strokes Jaskier’s hair and nape until he drifts off. A smile blooms on Jaskier’s face in sleep, and Geralt should only be proud.