#like can you believe… geralt and his best friend enjoying each other’s company…

[vulpinesaint]

re: last post, they really are soooo “i’m going to brood ab being a witcher.” “lmao stop fucking whining. anyway how are you :)”

also the fact that dandelion in this scene goes “yeah i was in the area and heard you got injured nd i figured you would come here so i came to check on you! :)” like. dude they’re literally friends… in combination with nenneke going “that whore is here. do you want to see him” and geralt going “ummm obvi he’s my friend :)” netflix did us soooo dirty when will jaskier tell geralt to shut the fuck up about how hard being a witcher is and pass the vodka

[ozai-the-bonsai]

I really enjoyed your Tame the Dragon series ♥ If it's not a problem, I would like to request Daemon x best friend reader. They know each other for years and she is the only one he truly trusts and enjoys her company. She is in love with him for years, but he's never showed any romantic interest in her. But one day when ser Harwin starts flirting with her and she flirts back, he gets super jealous and possesive, and drags the confused reader into his chambers, making her scream his name so loud that the whole castle will know that she belongs to him.

A/N: I’m so sorry that it took me an eternity to finally finish this but for the last two weeks I have been super busy -uni started again, and the first weeks are always full of events so I was rarely home :3 Anyway, it got a lot longer than I expected (: Hope you enjoy it!

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x BestFriend!reader

Summary: is in the request itself (:

Word Count: 4,8k

Warnings: I'm not a native English speaker, strong language, smut, possesive Daemon

Taglist: @disneydaddyevans @mirandastuckinthe80s @xicesam @mariamyousef702 @eddiemadmunson @dont-try-pesticide @sweetybuzz25 @hc-geralt-23 23 @schniiipsel @ttae-yong @syrma-sensei @asiludida164 @kaitieskidmore1 @irmavanity-blog @pax-2735 @trickrtreatart @shanzeyxsyed @random-human02 @scarwicht

You held your breath as the dragon turned its head towards you.

Daemon let out a soft laugh when he saw how tense you were becoming by the second. “All these years, we were the best of friends; however, I have never known you were afraid of dragons.” He spoke with a mocking tone. If you were not standing in front of Caraxes at the moment, you would turn to face him and roll your eyes at him. Instead, you showed him the middle finger while your eyes were still fixed at the dragon in front of you. “Which is quite ironic…”

You didn’t let him finish his word as you spoke. “Because my best friend is a dragon?” You were talking about him, of course. Daemon made an approving sound.

“Don’t be such a pussy, Y/N, he is not going to eat you.” He spoke, once again with a mocking tone, and held you from your left wrist.

“He can eat you, too, if he wants to, you know that, right?” You asked him, then you let out a scream when you felt Daemon dragging you closer to Caraxes. “Daemon!”

“No, he cannot.” He said as he placed your hand on the dragon’s nose. You, once again, held your breath for you were literally touching a dragon. However, once you realised that Caraxes didn’t mind you at all, you let yourself slowly relax as you tried to devour the feeling of its cold, hard scales under your palm. “See, didn’t I tell you?” From the tone of his voice, you could imagine a small smile on Daemon’s lips.

“Shut up,” you muttered as you placed your right hand on Caraxes’ scales, too. “Is he always that cold to the touch?”

Daemon nodded as he watched you getting familiar with his dragon. “Mostly, unless he is about to shoot some fire.” His words made you tense up again, you quickly pulled back your hands. You took a deep breath upon feeling Daemon’s hand on the small of your back. “Relax, Y/N, he won’t burn you alive unless I say so.”

You turned back to look at him as you raised an eyebrow. “Should I be concerned, my Prince?” Realising that how handsome he looked under the dim lighting of the Dragonpit, you held your breath.

I just wish he would have, at some point in the past, noticed it. The way I have always looked at him.

He shrugged with a careless manner. “Just try to get on my good side, then you won’t become his dinner.” When he saw the horrified expression on your face, Daemon let out a laughter. “We have known each other ever since we were little kids, and you still tend to believe everything I say.”

You rolled your eyes as you muttered under your breath. “As if your tone allows me to tell whether you’re joking…”

He ignored your last remark and held you tight from your waist, causing you to frown. At the same time, feeling his body standing too close to yours caused your heart to beat faster. You could easily feel the heat radiating off his body. “Now, let’s get to the fun part.” He said as the edge of lips turned upwards. “You’ll be going on a ride.”

Before you could find the chance to protest, Daemon lifted you up from the ground and literally threw you to the saddle. You let out a scream. “Daemon, what the fuck?!”

“Come on, I am sure you’ll enjoy it.” He told you as he climbed onto the saddle. “Just hold on tight, or I will have to explain it to your father and my brother why you fell down from the sky.”

“I am so going to kill you when this is over…” You muttered angrily and wrapped your arms around Daemon’s waist -he was sitting in front of you. He blew a kiss at you with a cocky smirk inhabiting his lips. Then, he said something in High Valyrian, which caused Caraxes to slowly stand up on its feet. When the dragon started walking, you let out another scream.

“For fuck’s sake, Y/N, we are not even flying yet.” Daemon kept on taunting you. “Get a hold of yourself.”

“Shut up or I’ll bite your ear.” You threatened him. This was something from your childhood -there had been this one time when Daemon had pissed you off so much that you had bit his ear in return. Over the years, the rather funny incident had evolved into an inside joke between you two.

Daemon laughed. “We will see who bites whom this time, Y/N. Now hold on tight.”

As you tightened your arms around his waist, Daemon said something in High Valyrian, again, which caused Caraxes to slowly flap its wings. You pressed your lips against each other not to scream this time for you didn’t want to give Daemon anything else so that he couldn’t taunt you anymore.

Then, Caraxes started to fly.

It was a wonderful feeling, being able to touch the clouds, and yet terrifying. When Caraxes stopped ascending and started flying horizontally, at a constant speed, the fear slowly left you as it gave its place to excitement. You cheered, throwing your left hand into the air.

Daemon chuckled as he raised his left hand in the air, too, then took a hold of yours to place it around his waist. You weren’t sure if it was flying or Daemon’s touch that was causing the butterflies in your stomach to go wild. “See, Y/N, I told you you’d like it.” He said. “Sometimes I feel like I know you better than you know yourself.”

At that moment, you wanted to try something daring -something you probably would not be bold enough to do if you weren’t, to some extent, drunken with adrenaline running wild through your veins.

Shifting a little bit in your place, you lifted your hips off the saddle and leaned forward. Then, you left a kiss on Daemon’s cheek, intentionally letting your lips linger there longer than they needed to. “Thank you, Daemon.” You said as you sat back your place, your arms were still tight around his waist. You could see the hints of a smile inhabiting his lips.

“Would you like to see something thrilling?” Daemon asked you, as if what he had been showing you wasn’t thrilling at all. Still, curiosity got the better of you -as it always did -so you made an approving sound. “Dracarys!”

[Time Skip]

When Daemon jumped down from the saddle, he was covered in ash and dust since he had made you literally fly into the cloud of smoke after Caraxes had thrown fire. You were pretty sure that you looked just the same -your face covered in grey dust, black ashes inhabiting your hair.

As you followed him down, leaving the saddle, you kept thinking about how magical it had actually felt. Being completely alone with him, up in the sky… It felt somehow right. You lifted your head up to cast a quick look at Daemon, only to meet his violet eyes already roaming around your pretty face. The intense look inside his eyes made you turn yours away almost immediately.

You held your breath as he took a step closer to you, looking down at you. Then, he raised his right hand in the air to push back a strand of your hair behind your ear, letting his fingertips touching your face on purpose.

You had known him for years, ever since you were a child and growing up with Daemon, you couldn’t help but find yourself enjoying his presence more and more to the point that you started to feel something for him. Over the years, your feelings had got only stronger even though he had never shown any romantic interest in you. Not that you were expecting him to since you knew very well how twisted he was, all these years you had never known him to grow feelings for anyone -your bond with him had always been the strongest, hence he trusted you the most.

It was for a fact that you were unable to get rid of your feelings for him; however, at times like this (although they were pretty seldom) little things he did were confusing you to the point of losing your sleep for a couple of nights.

He was probably simply trying to tease you for he had absolutely no idea about the way you felt about him.

“We should go get dressed,” Daemon spoke, bringing you back to reality. “Your ladyship would not miss the little gathering of the King, would you?”

You rolled your eyes at him as you walked towards the exit, Daemon following you. “Your ladyship, my ass,” you muttered. You hated to be called that way and Daemon, of course, knew about that.

Daemon snorted at your reaction. “You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

As you were about to turn right to look at him, your eyes found Ser Harwin Strong approaching you. Quickly wearing your ladylike attitude, you let your expression get softer. “Ser Harwin,” you greeted him.

“My lady,” he greeted you back, then turned to Daemon. “My prince.”

Daemon made a simple movement with his head, not even speaking to him.

Ser Harwin took your right hand and brought it to his lips. “Even the ash and the dust are unable to cloud your beauty, Lady Y/N.” He said, causing you to giggle. “Will you be joining the gathering today, my Lady?”

You nodded with a soft smile on your lips. “I hope to see you there, Ser Harwin.”

If you hadn’t been so focused on Harwin Strong, you would have certainly felt the jealousy radiating off Daemon.

[Time Skip]

The skirts of the silver dress you were wearing swayed in the soft wind as you brought the glass to your mouth, taking a big from the wine. Meanwhile, you were hoping for Ser Harwin Strong not to notice how pink your cheeks had become for he had been showering you with compliments since the beginning of the gathering.

Though, you had to admit that he was awfully attractive. And he knew how to approach a charming young woman like you.

The more he flirted with you, the more you started to daydream about how it would feel to have his strong arms around your waist, his lips brushing against yours…

You had laid with men before but none of them were nearly as handsome as Harwin, which made the simplest thought even more exciting.

But what about Daemon? You kept asking yourself time to time, even though you knew you needn’t feel guilty for there had never been anything between you two. Still, the feelings you had for him were as real as ever, which made you feel like as if you could… break something by getting close with Harwin Strong.

“You have a rather strong liking for wine, my Lady.” Harwin said as he filled your cup with red wine. The edge of your lips curled upwards while you nodded.

“Well, I grew up with the Prince and as you know, he brings all the best wine from his adventures across the Narrow Sea for he drinks only the best.” You told him.

Harwin smiled at you. “Of course, Prince Daemon has an impeccable taste,” he said and his eyes lingered on your lips for a short while before he continued to speak. “I would like to hear more of your adventures with the Prince, my Lady. On a pleasant evening, with some Dornish wine, perhaps?”

Upon feeling someone looking at you, you turned your head to the right, only to meet Daemon’s violet eyes. He was standing by the wall, hands crossed over his chest. Even from that distance, you could clearly feel the jealousy radiate off him, which left you only confused. The moment your eyes met his, he frowned and turned his look towards Harwin Strong, jealousy visible in his violet pupils.

Quickly, you turned back to Harwin with a soft smile on your lips, though you were still thinking about Daemon. “Of course, Ser Harwin, I would love to.”

You could swear Harwin’s dark eyes shone with happiness as he took a big sip from his wine. Wind made his brown curls sway ever so gently, causing him to look even more handsome than he already was.

“I am so sorry to interrupt this pleasant conversation, Ser Harwin, but I have to steal Lady Y/N for a while.”

Daemon’s voice made you slightly leap up in your place for you hadn’t seen him approaching you two. Harwin Strong gave Daemon a small nod and held your free hand, gently bringing it to his lips. Then, he walked away, joining his father and his brother.

Suddenly, Daemon took the cup away from your hands and placed it on the table next to you. Before you could ask him what the hell was happening, he held you firmly from your left wrist and literally dragged you behind him as he walked into the castle.

“Daemon, what do you think you are doing?!” You hissed between your teeth, trying to keep up with his pace as he walked steadily. “Everyone is looking at us!”

“Good,” was the only thing he said. You had never seen him like this; hence you could not tell what he was about to do or why he had suddenly started acting in such a weird way. It was impossible to ignore the anger and jealousy waves coming from him, which confused you even more.

Then, it all hit you.

He was jealous because you had been flirting with Harwin Strong all afternoon.

You tried to shake your arm free. “Daemon, let me at least walk on my own, for fuck’s sake!”

He looked at you over his shoulder, still dragging you behind him. “So that you could walk back to him?”

“This is about him, then.” You said as you forcefully freed your wrist from his hold the moment he stopped. Little did you realise that he had dragged you right in front of his chambers. “What is wrong with you?”

“I do not want to see him with you again, Y/N.” Daemon spoke with a low but demanding voice that sent shivers down your spine.

“Why do you care?” You asked with your hands crossed over your chest, a deep frown inhabiting your face. Daemon took a step towards you. As he looked down at you, you could feel his warm breath licking your forehead. “You have never shown any interest in me, Daemon, and you choose this moment to…”

He didn’t even let you finish your word as he pressed his lips against yours.

You pushed him away with a confused expression on your face. “What are you doing?” You asked, your voice was lower than a whisper for you could not find the strength to talk. Your whole body was shaking, and your breath was heavy as if you had been on a run. “Someone could see us!”

“I don’t give a single fuck,” Daemon spoke with a husky tone as he pulled you against his chest and cupped your face. “In fact, I want everyone in this castle to know that you are mine.” Your eyes were wide with shock, you didn’t know how to react to his words for all those years, you had believed that he had taken absolutely no fancy to you, that you had been the only one yearning for the other’s touches.

“Daemon,” you breathed out his name as he leant into you, his lips brushing against yours.

“You are mine, Y/N,” he whispered against your lips, his left hand caressing your cheek. “And no one else shall lay their hands on you ever again.”

When his lips captured yours, you felt as if your heart was trying to break free from your chest, beating so fast which made you wonder if Daemon could hear it as well. He didn’t give you any time to think about what he had just told you while he kissed you with such hunger as if he wanted to capture your next breath.

You found it hard to believe what was really happening.

Even though all you wanted at that moment was to let yourself get lost in the kiss and sink into Daemon’s arms, the thoughts roaming in your head were not allowing you to leave yourself completely to his touches -you wanted to know why he was acting that way, why he had got jealous in the first place and since when he was thinking about you in a different way.

Slowly, you tried to pull your head a little back to put some distance between your lips. “Daemon, I need…” The Rogue Prince didn’t let you speak as his lips captured yours once again; however, you insisted on talking as you took a little step back. “Let me speak.”

“Shh,” Daemon whispered while he pressed his index finger against your lips. With his other hand, he opened the doors to his chambers. “We have been speaking for years, Y/N.” Holding you from your hand, he pulled you inside and closed the door behind you. Your heart started to beat faster as if it was even possible when you found yourself stuck between the wooden doors and Daemon’s body. His hands were placed on the door you were leaning on either sides of your head. Every time you inhaled, your chest was brushing against his. Daemon’s violet eyes were darkened with lust as he looked down at you. “I am sick of the words.”

The closer he stood to you, the more you were losing your grip on reality.

You took a deep breath when he wrapped one of his hands around your waist, leaning into you. “I want you, Y/N,” he breathed the words against your skin and laid his lips on your neck. You pressed your lips against each other. “I want to mark every inch of your body as mine,” he sucked on the flesh, causing you to gasp. Your hands slowly found their way around his neck. “So that no other men would dare touch you again.”

Every time his lips met the sensitive skin of your neck, you could feel the control slipping away from your fingers, your judgement being clouded by desire. You have been yearning for this very moment ever since you could remember; hence, in mere seconds, all the doubts and the questions troubling you dissolved into thin air as lust took control of your body.

You were scarcely aware of your actions as you held Daemon from his chin and pulled him against your lips, which caused him to chuckle into the kiss. His lips were hungry against yours, he licked your lower lip for you to give him an entrance.

Once you parted your lips, his tongue slid into your mouth, meeting yours in midway. You pressed Daemon more against your body as you deepened the kiss, your hands working their way through the layer of clothes to leave him with his shirt.

For a brief moment, Daemon broke the kiss to send you a cocky smirk. At the same time, his right hand was slowly sliding under the long skirts of your dress. “I didn’t know that you were lusting after me, Lady Y/N.” He spoke with a playful tone and pressed his lips against yours once again.

“There are a lot of things,” you spoke in between kisses, “you don’t know, my Prince.”

You gasped as his fingers climbed up your inner thigh. “I’m intrigued,” Daemon whispered and took your lower lip between his teeth. Your breath got heavier as his fingers reached your core. The edge of Daemon’s lips curled upwards upon feeling your wetness against his fingertips. “You’re fucking wet, Y/N, and I haven’t even started touching you yet.”

His free hand cupped your breast over the fabric of your dress, you bit your lower lip as you spoke. “Just the simplest thought,” you whispered, your eyes never leaving his violet ones as you spoke, “of you burying yourself deep within me,” you gasped when you felt Daemon’s middle finger brushing against your clit, “is enough.”

You could feel the hardness inside Daemon’s trousers growing bigger as it pressed against your lower stomach.

“Tell me,” Daemon whispered against your lips as his finger began to move faster, causing you to bite your lower lip to silence your moans. “Have you ever touched yourself, imagining it was me that was touching you?”

“Yes,” you breathed out. Daemon started toying with your clit faster, again, which made you let out a silent moan this time. You could see his eyes getting darker by the second.

“Have you ever thought about me,” he asked, once more fastening the movement of his finger so that your moans became louder. Anyone passing by could easily hear you for you were leaning the door. “When you laid with other men?”

To get a better angle, Daemon made you lift your right leg with his other hand. You were trying to unbutton his shirt but it was almost impossible for you to concentrate yourself on anything. “Yes,” you spoke but it came out more like a moan. “Every fucking time.”

The feeling in your stomach was building up, your moans were becoming louder and more frequent. “Before, you always came to the thought of me,” Daemon whispered against your skin, he could tell that you were close to the edge. “This time, you will come for me.”

With the last bits of strength left in your body, you held Daemon’s arm. “But I don’t want to come just yet.” You whispered. Daemon slowed down the movement of his finger upon hearing you, a smirk inhabited his lips.

“As you wish, my Lady.”

Letting you rest your right foot on the floor, Daemon moved both of his hands to your waist and pulled you into a kiss. However, you really weren’t focusing on the kiss as your hands made their way to his trousers, pushing them down to free his erection from the cloth. Daemon let out a grunt when you wrapped your hand around his cock.

Slowly, you lowered yourself down onto your knees, your eyes didn’t leave his as you licked through his length. A deep grunt left Daemon’s throat when you took his cock in your mouth, moving your head back and forth.

“Fuck,” he growled, his left hand found its way to your hair, pushing his length deeper into your throat. Fighting your gagging reflex, you tried to go on like that -taking him deep into your throat -but eventually, you had to pull your head back. Before you could take him in your mouth once again, Daemon held you from your chin and pulled you to your feet. “Tonight, I want to fuck you, Y/N, until you come screaming my name, letting every single man in this damn castle know that you belong to me.” He said upon seeing the confused look in your eyes. “Your mouth will be the next time.”

His words made you blush but at the same time, you found yourself giggling as he led you to the bed. Once again that night, Daemon’s lips captured yours. His hands were trying to break you free from the dress, but he was too impatient.

“If you don’t get rid of that dress,” he whispered against your lips with a husky voice. “Then I’ll have to rip it in two.”

You mimicked his tone as you undressed yourself. “I have never known you were so eager to fuck me, Daemon.”

The moment your dress fell down around your ankles, leaving you totally naked, you saw the hungry look in Daemon’s eyes getting even denser.

The Rogue Prince licked his lower lip as he held you from your ass with both hands, pulling you against his bare chest -you didn’t even recall freeing him from his shirt. “Oh, my Lady Y/N, you have absolutely no idea…”

The throbbing between your legs was getting worse by the second, you needed to feel him in you -his cock was pressing against your lower stomach. “Would the Prince like me to ride him,” you whispered against his lips as you gently pushed Daemon towards his bed, making him sit. “As I rode his dragon?”

As a response, Daemon pulled you onto his lap.

Riding two dragons a day, you thought to yourself as you slowly slid onto his cock, causing both of you to inhale deeply. I deserve a fucking medal.

Daemon’s hold was firm on your ass as he made you move faster against his hips. “You are only mine, Y/N,” he hissed against your neck before biting, which would surely leave a mark. “Only I can touch you.”

“Yes,” you moaned, fastening the movement of your hips. “I am yours.”

You let out a soft cry when Daemon hit that spot in you, causing your sight to slightly blur.

“Be louder,” he told you, making you hold your body at that particular angle so that every time you let yourself down onto his hips, he would reach that spot. “I want everyone to know that I’m the one fucking you, making you scream.”

Your hands were tangled in his long, silver hair.

Daemon moved one of his hands to your breast, taking your nipple between his fingers. Soon, his mouth replaced his hand as his warm tongue flicked over your hardened nipple. You were pretty sure that everyone in the perimeter could easily hear your soft cries.

“Daemon,” you spoke his name, which came out more or less like a whine.

His lips left your nipple as he moved his hand to your neck. You could imagine that the firm way he held your ass was going to leave some marks. “Yes, Y/N,”

“I… I want you to,” you could barely form words, “fuck me harder.”

The moment those words left your lips, you felt the soft sheets of Daemon’s bed against your skin for he had put you onto your back at that instant. After sliding a little bit up on the bed, he put your legs on his shoulders and thrusted into you. Instinctually, you covered your mouth with your hand to silence your screams for he was continually hitting the sweet spot within you.

Daemon pinned your hands above your head with his left one, the other hand held you steady from your hips. “Don’t,” he spoke with a husky voice as he thrusted deeper, “I want you to scream my name.”

When Daemon’s hand pinning yours over your head moved between your bodies, you were already dangerously close to your orgasm but the aggressive movement of his fingers against your clit sent you over the edge in mere seconds.

You held onto his shoulders, your nails sinking into his skin. “Daemon,” you cried out, “I’m… fuck. Oh fuck!”

“Yes, Y/N,” he grunted as he looked down at you, his silver hair dangling, sweat building up on his forehead. “Come for me.”

Your sight went blurry as the huge wave of pleasure hit you, having you scream Daemon’s name as your legs began to shake. Daemon held your body steady as he continued to thrust deep into you while you rode your orgasm.

You weren’t really sure if it was the way you had been crying out his name or the way your walls had clenched around his cock that sent him over the edge but not long after you, Daemon came as well. Burying his head to the crook of your neck, he kept grunting your name against your skin as his warm seed filled you.

Slowly, Daemon pulled out and rolled onto his back, his chest was still rising up and falling down faster than usual. Turning left, you laid on your side to look at him as he steadied his breathing. Of course, it didn’t take him long to realise your questioning looks lingering on his pretty face. He raised an eyebrow at you.

“So,” you murmured as you began to draw circles on his bare chest with your right index finger. “What now?”

“Now,” Daemon spoke with a low voice, running his right hand along your thighs, “everybody knows that you belong to me. And I will keep reminding them that you are only mine to touch.” The edge of his lips curled upwards. “Every. Fucking. Night.”

[wren-of-the-woods]

Hi! I see you've reblogged a writing prompt list...now, how about #29 for Yennskier (because I adore them) or Geraskefer as that's probably more your thing? (Or if both leave you rather uninspired, I know you're a big Geraskier shipper)

But listen, the immortals putting flowers on Jaskier's grave is heartbreaking and a good idea

Thank you for the prompt, my friend!! This became 1k of oddly soft Yennskier -- I hope you like it!

CW: major character death. Prompt from this list!

Edit: Also on AO3!

~~~

Jaskier’s grave is beautiful in the spring.

“Put me somewhere nice, when the time comes,” he had said with a soft smile. “Cover me with growing things. That way I can live on, in a way. I can provide for new life.” 

Yennefer has done her very best to heed his wishes. 

She worked together with Geralt to choose the location. It was one of several places that Jaskier himself had suggested in his later years. It’s a little glade beside a small brook, far enough above the water not to be disturbed by a flood but close enough to always be green and shaded. It’s in the woods, about an hour’s journey from Oxenfurt. Jaskier had loved the place. He and Yennefer spent many afternoons there, talking or working or simply enjoying themselves.

The funeral was beautiful. Geralt and Ciri were there, of course. So were most of the remaining witchers and a large number of people from Oxenfurt, Jaskier’s friends and colleagues and students alike. There had even been a fair number of elves who remembered Jaskier from his work as the Sandpiper. 

When Jaskier was alive, his favorite tree in the glade had been a majestic old oak that spread its arms over most of the glade. That day, the funeral-goers planted one of its acorns over Jaskier’s final resting place. 

“What if it dies?” Geralt had asked. There were tears on his cheeks. It was the first and only time Yennefer has seen him cry. “What if it fails to sprout?”

“It won’t,” said Yennefer. She’s always been stubborn. 

Jaskier has given her so much: laughter and love and music and grief. The least she can do is give him a garden in return. 

She visited the spot every week, those first few months. She tended the oak as it sprouted and watered the buttercups and forget-me-nots that had been seeded throughout the glade. She talked to Jaskier as she worked. She thought he would enjoy the company.

She could have used magic for this. She did not. She found herself liking the feeling of the earth — Jaskier’s earth — in her hands. 

After a while, when the plants were more established and her duties could no longer be ignored, she let herself slow to only visiting once a season. Every solstice and equinox without fail, whether alone or accompanied by Geralt or Ciri, she comes to tend Jaskier’s garden. 

Time passes. Seasons turn. Jaskier’s sapling is a fine young tree now, many heads taller than Yennefer. Though Geralt and Ciri are not with her this time, she isn’t alone. “Jaskier’s Glade” has become a popular retreat among Oxenfurt’s bardic students. Yennefer likes to think that it’s because the place itself seems to be made of music; when the wind blows and the creek babbles and there are songbirds in the trees, she sometimes fancies she can hear Jaskier’s voice in the chorus. 

Jaskier’s absence hurts, of course, but over the years it has dulled from a soul-crushing chasm in her heart to an old ache. It’s familiar now, more of a reminder of love than of loss. It’s something she never thought she’d get to have, this oddly comforting wound in her heart. A part of her will always remain with that ugly little girl who thought she would never love or be loved. Jaskier, more than anyone else, had shown her she was wrong about that. If this pain is the cost of all the joy and comfort and healing they had given each other, it is a badge she will wear with honor. 

One thing that helps when the grief does become hard to bear: Yennefer knows she’ll see Jaskier again. 

Yennefer doesn’t believe in the afterlife. Yennefer believes in magic. She also believes that she and Jaskier are possibly the two most stubborn people on the Continent. 

Long ago, before Jaskier’s bones started to creak and his hair became more gray than brown, Yennefer conducted a ritual. It was something she discovered in a time-worn old tome, written in a near-forgotten language. It’s an ancient rite, created as a way of binding the souls of two sorcerers. It is, technically, a marriage ritual. Yennefer did not tell Jaskier this. He would have been insufferable. 

He’ll find out when it works. 

They did it here, in this very glade. With an incantation from Yennefer and a song from Jaskier, their spirits were entwined as they bound their hands together. 

The spell was thorough. Their determination is strong. There is no possible way that their souls will be separated now; Yennefer knows this deep in her being.

All she has to do is wait. 

~~~

All the bards of Oxenfurt know the sorceress who tends to Jaskier’s Glade. She weeds it and prunes it and waters it and cares for it in every way, as faithful as a lover. She has done so for untold decades — but, as it turns out, even mages don’t live forever. One day, peacefully and in her sleep, her life comes to an end. 

She is buried in the glade: hers and Jaskier’s, now. A second oak is planted over her, a twin to the bard’s. The care of the glade, in which lilacs are now planted as well as buttercups, falls to Melitele and the students of Oxenfurt. 

The place passes into legend, after a time. Most agree that there’s nothing to the tales but the overactive imaginations of bardlings, but the stories persist all the same. They tell of love beyond reason and hope beyond death, of tender touches held in the twining of leaves. 

It’s not a legacy Yennefer ever expected, but those who loved her and Jaskier think it is a fitting one. She deserved to have such softness after everything she endured, and Jaskier deserved to be remembered for his love. 

There are songs about the place, to no one’s surprise; no bard can resist a tale of romance. These songs, though, are rarely performed in taverns. They aren’t for laughing or clapping along, but they survive for far longer than the bawdier tales. These songs are for quiet evenings when the world is dark and the stars are bright. They are stories of quiet, unspoken hope and caresses held between the petals of a flower. 

They are the best remembrance either Jaskier or Yennefer could have hoped for.

~~~

The secret glade of song, they say, Is full of life and love; The lilacs and the buttercups Seem blesséd from above. 

The biggest branching oaks, they say, Can speak, though rarely heard; They laugh and banter, talk and joke With love in every word.

Sometimes at dusk, you see, they say, Two figures dance along; They fade and flicker, shine and whirl, To their sweet starlight song.

The place is full, they sing, they say, Of love on songbirds’ wings; The glade of bard and sorceress wife Is beautiful in the spring.

[officerjennie]

Nothing More

CW: None? aro/ace!Eskel, aro!Dandelino. They platonically cuddle and also come out to each other.

Summary: Dandelion seeks out emotional comfort, and confessions are shared between them.

WC: 1.5k+

When Eskel had returned to the room, he really hadn’t expected to see Dandelion cry.

It had been a split second decision to travel with the bard, recognizing him as Geralt’s dearest friend (and what he believed to be more than just a friend). The road was lonely and they were traveling in the same direction, so there was little reason to not take comfort in each other’s company. Dandelion, as it turned out, was easy enough to get along with. Past his exuberance and habit of never quite being quiet, always a tune on his lips or some other form of poetry spilling from them, he was a gentle enough presence when there wasn’t other people around. And Eskel enjoyed a gentle presence, letting the calm not-quiet sweep over him, finding it much more relaxing than sitting at a fire alone with nothing but the stars overhead to keep him company.

Stars had never been much for conversation, anyway.

But he hadn’t expected for Dandelion to suggest they share a room at the next inn, nor had he expected any sort of emotional outbursts from him. It was what left Eskel a little dumbfounded right inside the doorway, watching as the poet quickly swiped at the falling tears, eyes glistening but otherwise his appearance as put together and immaculate as always.

“I’m, ah, terribly sorry, Eskel, didn’t mean for you to walk in on me like-” Dandelion flicked a delicate wrist in gesture at the whole of himself, the skin just below his eyes a bit puffy and red, nose sniffling as he stared off at the wall and not anywhere near his company.

Company that Eskel really didn’t know if he wanted or not. He shifted his weight, his own eyes tired from a rather grueling day. It had been well before dawn when he’d forced himself out of bed, and hunting down a cockitrice had turned into hunting down three, plus an ambush by some thankfully inept bandits, plus a nest of drowners, plus some rather itchy mosquito bites that he was damn near willing to take a hot knife to at this point. Eskel was exhausted and really wanted nothing more than to climb into the bed Dandelion was currently perched on, but he couldn’t exactly do that if the man needed space.

Which he might. Maybe. That or a hug but Eskel wasn’t really sure he had any right to offer one, though he’d been told on multiple occasions that he gave some of the best - something he didn’t doubt, given his body was softer and therefore warmer. Soft surfaces were always more comfortable than sharp, pointy ones, after all.

“Do you need me to leave? I can give you space.”

“No, no, don’t worry your head over it, love.” Dandelion shook himself, picking at one of his delicately curled blond locks to keep his fingers busy. “I’m done acting like a lover scorned, though once again I must apologize for this. I’m not usually one so easily set off into waterworks”

“Is that what this is about?” Eskel quickly divested himself of his weapons and armor, making sure to keep them in a neat and tidy pile so the disorganized mess wouldn’t bother Dandelion into a tither. It wasn’t his place to ask, it really wasn’t, but Eskel had always had a rather soft heart and couldn’t stand the thought of anything making Dandelion cry. “A lover’s spat? Though I had honestly thought…”

Dandelion sighed deeply, pointedly making room for Eskel on the bed next to him, and Eskel was tired enough to not give it a second thought as he made himself comfortable as well. Their legs pressed together but it wasn’t uncomfortable - Dandelion had never once made the witcher uncomfortable, no matter that they shared a bed.

“No, I- it’s honestly rather silly, I just went out into town today with something in my pocket, and…” The way his lower lip stuck out then made Eskel all too aware that the tears could easily come back, and before he could second guess himself he reached out and took the other man’s hand, not able to meet his eyes when Dandelion looked over at him with those wet blue eyes. “Someone bumped into me and stole it. Little pickpocket bastard - it was really important to me, too, but no matter how many streets I chased them down I couldn’t keep up.”

Now that he was holding Dandelion’s hand, Eskel felt a bit awkward about it. He gently placed them atop his thigh, trying to not think much of it, reminding himself that it was perfectly normal to want to comfort a friend. “Guess it’s not something you can just go out and buy again, is it?”

“Family heirloom,” Dandelion sighed out, a bit of his dramatic flair back though the hurt was still clear in the way he blinked so fast. “Or, something of the sort anyway. It was small so I doubt I’ll ever see it again, but I’ll move on. I just...do you mind terribly if- it’s alright if you would rather not, but I could really use a hug if that’s alright.”

Eskel didn’t even bother answering that, just turned and tugged the poet into his arms, squeezing him close. It took only a few moments for Dandelion to squeeze him right back, hiding his face and letting the last of his tears fall onto Eskel’s shirt - but Eskel didn’t mind, just rested his chin on the top of all of those pretty blond curls and patted his friend’s back.

“Thank you,” Dandelion whispered after a time, after he’d been relaxed into Eskel’s firm grip for what could have been an awkward amount of time if the both of them hadn’t been so comfortable. He sat back and dabbed his eyes dry, a small smile pulling at his lips that Eskel felt the urge to mirror. Though he didn’t, letting his eyes smile for him - a habit ever since his face had been scarred. “I’m so very grateful to have run across you in that backwater tavern. Not every day you can come across a friend you can be so comfortable with.”

Eskel scratched the back of his neck, hoping the blush on his cheeks wasn’t too noticeable. “Sorry it wasn’t Geralt though. I’m sure he could give you more.”

At Dandelion’s scoff, Eskel’s eyebrows rose. “Geralt could give me much, yes, and I love him dearly - but sometimes I think he might...expect more of me than I can give.” He busied his hands straightening his clothes, picking lint off of them, and Eskel noticed his fingers were shaking. “I haven’t exactly told him but...well, I insist on breaks in our travels together for a reason. He’s such a darling and so very dear to my heart, but I’ve never cared for romance, and sometimes I fret that he might get the wrong idea between us.”

Those words softened an ache in Eskel’s chest that he’d been feeling for decades, his words echoing that softness when he gently bumped Dandelion’s shoulder with his own and said, “Never knew there were others who didn’t like that stuff.”

“Oh?” The poet flicked some curls back over his shoulder, his eyes dry now, nothing but the puffy redness beneath them and the scent of salt in the air to suggest he’d been anything but completely composed this whole while. “I’ve known a few who didn’t care for it. My dearest grandmother was one such person but she still married, and when she found out how I felt she encouraged my musical talents all the more. Wanted me to not feel the pressure to marry as she had, I believe. But you’ve,” Dandelion reached out for his hand this time, laying his over Eskel’s, and such a gentle and caring expression came over him then. “You’ve never met anyone else like you? Like us?”

With a deep exhale, Eskel shook his head, still fighting off the exhaustion of the day and feeling his body trying to sag under the weight of it. “No. No one ever seemed to get why I didn’t like sex, either.”

“Love, you can barely keep your eyes open, can you?” Dandelion tisked, shaking his head lightly, and then he was settling himself back onto the pillows and holding his arms out for Eskel. “Come, let’s rest. I’m sure between the both of us we’ve had quite the year this afternoon.”

Eskel hesitated for a moment, doubts born from experience circling in his mind, but then he was rearranging himself until he was laying his head against Dandelion’s chest, the comforting sound of his heartbeat steady in his ear.

This was something he never thought he’d have. A friend who would hold him close, even play with his hair after his eyes slid shut, and who would not expect anything else from him. Eskel let his breaths even out as Dandelion sung a soft lullaby, the both of them sharing the comfort and warmth of each other as friends - and it was more than enough for them.

[jaskiersvalley]

Feral jaskier and himbo geralt are always lovely!!! “So many questions and not enough brain cells” was absolutely MAGNIFICENT

Nonnie, I am so happy you liked that line. It gave me a chuckle to write it too. Feral Jaskier and himbo Geralt are such a delight, I now feel the need to write a little more for you. Movie stars, stunt doubles and idiots ahoy!

Incidentally, this also seems to fit my @sugar-and-spice-witcher-bingo square ‘sharing a brain cell’.

Prompt: Sharing a brain cell Relationships (romantic/platonic/etc): Geralt/Jaskier, Lambert/Eskel/Cahir/Aiden Rating: T Content Warnings: None Summary: Geralt is the star of a TV series with Jaskier as his on screen arch nemesis. Thankfully that rivalry doesn’t carry into real life.  

The set was like a second home by that point. Geralt spent a good nine months of the year there, the crew feeling like family. It was their fifth season of filming, Geralt couldn’t quite get tired of the monster of the week format though. He loved it, loved how cheesy it was and the fact that it was a production that didn’t bait or bury their characters. The natural chemistry he’d had with Jaskier made it so much easier too. They had kissed on screen enough times that he was intimately familiar with the shape of Jaskier’s lips and the taste of the lip balm he wore. That had started three seasons ago and Geralt had been quietly wishing they could kiss away from the cameras too. So he had been planning, even seeking out the advice of those he trusted - namely Eskel and Lambert.

That had been a surprise friendship that Geralt had discovered. Eskel was brought in as he stunt double for more tricky shots. Usually, Geralt liked to do his own stunts but falling off a horse at a gallop was a little beyond him. As was surviving Jaskier’s rather flamboyant fighting style. Just for a laugh Geralt had sat in on a few of Jaskier’s training session and he was so very torn between laughing his arse off and feeling sorry for Cahir who was doing his best to help them train for their fight scenes. For all his patience and expertise, Jaskier seemed determined to add his own flair. The number of times Jaskier accidentally smacked Geralt, Eskel and Cahir during training and on takes was truly staggering. It could have been a blooper reel all on its own.

Thankfully it was a short day, something about a number of the crew requesting the evening off. As it was towards the end of filming, they were within the time budget, it had been declared that they could all have the evening off.

“Just make him a home cooked meal,” Eskel advised. “Guys love that, trust me.”

“It work for you?” Geralt was a little sullen and sceptic. He didn’t think a home cooked meal was what Jaskier would want. On screen they were enemies with a terrible habit of falling into bed. The reality probably wasn’t so far off either. Though, at least, they had become friends after a rocky start.

“Would I be celebrating my fifth anniversary this evening if it didn’t?” There was no small amount of entertainment in Eskel’s face. “It’s not like my looks are what draw anyone in.”

That had been an unfortunate accident from before Geralt’s time. Some pyrotechnic stunt had gone horribly wrong and left Eskel with the scars. If it hadn’t been for those and the different coloured hair, Geralt was sure they could have been mistaken for brothers, if not twins. Still, now Eskel only worked on sets where Lambert was the one in charge of anything fire related. Which was just as well because Geralt liked Lambert, enjoyed trading barbs with him whenever their paths crossed. As Geralt’s fame climbed, he got to ask for more and more things in contracts and, as he was fond of Eskel, he asked for him as a stunt double whenever he could and then asked for Lambert if the set called for it. It was nice to have so much power and be able to work with those he liked. Interestingly, Cahir was fast becoming another person who Geralt got on with quite well. That wasn’t to say Geralt wasn’t scared shitless of him at the start. Nobody should know so much about fighting with so many weapons without having a very colourful past - one that Cahir refused to talk about. Still, the guy was good at his job and Geralt could talk to him, so his advice was sought out too.

“Just tell him. Bring him something you know he will like. Show an interest in him and his life outside of set.”

For the first time ever, Geralt felt that Cahir was in a rush. He wasn’t quite as patient and measured as usual.

“Excited for the evening off?” he asked, trying to be friendly. And maybe he was practicing Cahir’s advice on him so he could be sure it worked when he talked to Jaskier.

A soft, shy smile crossed Cahir’s face, making him look younger and much less severe. “That obvious? It’s my anniversary today. I want to make it special.”

“Maybe bring them a gift that they’ll like?” Geralt offered with an amused smile. “I have it on good authority that it works.”

Laughing, Cahir clapped Geralt on the shoulder. “Best of luck. Now go get your man.”

Finding Jaskier wasn’t an issue, Geralt just had to follow the sound of laughter and singing. Unsurprisingly, Jaskier was sat with a gigantic sparkler while Lambert was packing away. Those two were a dangerous combination at the best of times and Geralt knew Jaskier had, on more than one occasion, dropped by the writers’ room to posit new ideas that centred around more pyrotechnics. The ideas had obviously come from Lambert but they were mostly good so got used surprisingly frequently.

“Aha! My companion for the evening has arrived!” Jaskier hopped off the box he had been swinging his legs off and approached Geralt. “What say you? Dinner. You and me. We enjoy this rare evening off with some good company and good food.”

“Sounds good,” Geralt agreed readily, it saved him having to ask Jaskier.

Turning back, Jaskier waved at Lambert. “Enjoy your anniversary this evening! Make sure you can walk properly tomorrow though!”

Another anniversary. While Geralt had been feeling quite confident about asking Jaskier out, the news that it was yet another person’s anniversary somewhat ruined the idea. Geralt knew Jaskier liked to be unique, adored being different to everyone else. To ask him out now and share an anniversary with three people they knew, it felt a little less special. Mood taking a bit of a dive, Geralt slouched next to Jaskier as they walked towards the cars.

“Why the glum face?” Typically, nothing went over Jaskier’s head. “Would you prefer a night of solitude?”

Shaking his head, Geralt resigned himself to the knowledge that Jaskier would wheedle until he got the truth out of him. So he saved them both a lot of time and agony. “It’s stupid.”

“Nothing’s ever stupid, just needs to be valued correctly.”

“I wanted to ask you something. But make it special. It’s not special though, not today. Maybe I’ll try tomorrow.”

That made not a lick of sense to Jaskier and he frowned, bumping his shoulder against Geralt’s. “Just ask.”

“But it won’t be special. Three other couples we know have an anniversary today.”

A soft laugh from Jaskier pulled him from his grumblings. “So many people have their anniversaries every day. It’s not like one single day can be declared as only one couple’s.”

For someone so smart, Jaskier sure wasn’t putting the pieces together to solve just what Geralt was trying to say.

“But would you really want an anniversary when Lambert, Eskel and Cahir each have theirs too?” It was actually a little odd, now that Geralt thought of it. Three good friends all sharing an anniversary.

There was a moment of silence before Jaskier was rounding on Geralt, hands on his shoulders to stop him mid-walk.

“Dear heart, please tell me I’m hearing this wrong. Firstly, if I was so lucky as to have an anniversary, I wouldn’t care who I shared it with. I would love to simply have one, especially if you’re offering to have one with me. Secondly, please tell me you know why those three all have their anniversary date today.”

Mind whirring, Geralt tried to process everything Jaskier had just said. He picked the easier bit to reply to first. “They were on a night out together and met their partners at the same time? Bit like how people date within the same friendship groups or even date siblings?”

Face falling, Jaskier cursed under his breath. “And I thought I wasn’t being obvious enough. Oh dear. Geralt, those three, it’s their anniversary together. As in they’re all dating each other. And Aiden is at home, waiting for them. He got the day off today too.”

Geralt’s jaw fell slack. He couldn’t quite believe it. “They-they’re together?!”

“And they’ve not been subtle at all about it!” Jaskier was laughing. “I love you but you are so dumb, I swear.”

That forced Geralt back into the moment and he smiled. “I love you too.”

He didn’t expect an enthusiastic kiss out in the open but he really didn’t mind it at all. With a huff of a laugh Geralt returned it, arms wrapping around Jaskier’s waist.

“Come on then,” Jaskier finally said as he broke away. I believe we have our zero-th anniversary to have and make a solid start on new traditions. I think we should order takeaway as a treat for our anniversaries from now on.”

Laughing, Geralt linked their hands. He liked the idea of anniversary traditions. Jaskier most definitely had the best ideas.

[valdomarx]

For a Geraskier prompt whenever you feel like it: They're FWB and one of them's pining and the other one's oblivious but it's fun!! It's chill!!! Until one night the sex turns into lovemaking for some reason, and suddenly there are FEELINGS and TENDERNESS and EYE CONTACT, and the oblivious one gets an epiphany like a punch to the face. Thank you for your time (love your writing so very very much!

Geralt and Jaskier have an arrangement.

It’s casual, a way to blow off some steam when they’re antsy or lonely. A hand in the dark, a willing mouth, a spark of pleasure on the long cold nights.

It’s convenient, especially when they’re out on the road, far from decent company. When there are no comely locals for Jaskier for either of them to indulge in. It’s a bit of fun. A way to meet their needs.

It’s enough. It’s fine.

It’s not.

.

Geralt almost wishes he didn’t know Jaskier so well, because then he might not notice how very carefully choreographed Jaskier is when they sleep together. How much of a performance it is. Geralt will reach for him, or whisper a suggestion in his ear, and it’s like a curtain will fall over his face. Jaskier, his friend, the one with the big heart and the bigger mouth and the goofy sense of humour, he disappears, and he’s replaced by Jaskier, the performer. The confident, wicked flirt who’s the best lover on the continent.

And that’s… well, look, Geralt enjoys Jaskier’s attentions under any circumstance, and he’s undeniably skilled with both his fingers and his tongue. It’s fully pleasurable for both of them, no doubt there. It’s just… Geralt wishes he could see less of the act, and more of his friend.

But it’s fine. Of course it’s fine. Who wouldn’t want to bed the famous lover Jaskier?

And if, when they’re both spent and sweaty, breath panting in the cool night air, if in those moments Geralt feels a twisting pain in his heart every time Jaskier rolls off him and dresses without a word, that‘s not very well something that Jaskier needs to know. Geralt doesn’t even know what he’s hoping for. Cuddling? Intimacy? Confessions of love?

It’s pathetic, frankly, that he can’t even enjoy the occasional casual tryst with a friend without needing something more, something that he knows he can’t have. He always did want too much.

.

He picks up a contract for a griffin, and it goes less well than he’d hoped. He takes the beast down with his crossbow and an oiled silver blade, but not before it dives at him and rips through a weak point in his armor. As the blow lands, Geralt’s only thought is, ridiculously enough, that he‘s glad he insisted Jaskier stay at the camp so he doesn’t have to see this.

The wound looks worse than it is. There’s a torrent of blood pouring from a dramatically deep gash in his side, but the talons missed his major organs and it’s nothing he can’t handle.

He pushes a linen pad to the wound, throws back a couple of doses of Swallow, and drops to his knees. If he mediates for an hour or two, the healing will be easier.

.

He’s roused from his meditation by frantic shaking at his shoulders and a wailing noise that sounds like… crying? He blinks, woozy, his brain taking a moment to snap into focus.

In front of him is Jaskier, distraught, tears pouring down his face. Geralt pulls himself forceably back to full consciousness and leaps to his feet, ready to defend Jaskier from whatever is threatening him.

“Geralt!” Jaskier gasps. “You’re not dead, thank the gods, you’d been gone for hours so I came to look for you and I found you here all covered in blood, I thought, I really thought -” He bursts into tears again and throws his arms around Geralt.

It pulls at the gash in his side, but Geralt puts his arms around Jaskier anyway, rubbing comforting circles into his back. “It’s okay, Jaskier, I was just meditating, I’m fine.”

Jaskier snorts and pulls back to look at Geralt, face still wobbly. “Are you sure? Because that is a lot of blood.”

Geralt grunts. He is standing in an admittedly large pool of red, but the potions and the meditation have helped. The gash will close itself in a few hours. “Don’t worry,” he says, rubbing the tears from Jaskier’s face with his thumb. “A hot meal and a warm fire and I’ll be good as new.”

Jaskier’s bottom lip trembles, but he nods and walks Geralt back to the camp.

.

Some food and warmth do indeed help, and by the time night falls his wound has closed to an itchy scab which is little more than an annoyance and another scar to add to his collection.

Jaskier fusses over him, piling the fire high and pushing extra portions of food into his hands before rearranging their packs on the ground so Geralt can sit comfortably propped up against them.

“Enough, Jaskier,” Geralt huffs when he comes over to check his wound for the third time in an hour, though even to him it sounds less annoyed and more fond. Jaskier’s lips purse like he’s about to argue, so Geralt deploys a cunning distraction, lifting his arm on his non-injured side. “Come here.”

A blur of emotions pass over Jaskier’s face before settling on what Geralt assumes to be amused tolerance, and he sits down beside Geralt and nestles under his arm. He’s warm against Geralt’s side and he smells like campfire smoke and cool linen. Geralt lets himself indulge for a moment, breathing in the scent of Jaskier’s hair and pressing a quick kiss to the top of his head.

“Earlier,” Jaskier begins, voice a little shaky, “when I thought… well. Earlier. It made me think.”

“Hmm?”

“I didn’t… I didn’t want to not do this, at least once,” he says, shifting until he’s looking up at Geralt and their mouths are inches apart.

Jaskier kisses him, and it’s not like the times before. They’ve kissed occasionally, mouths meeting as they pant for air while fucking, but this is not like that.

This time, Jaskier kisses him like he’s drowning and Geralt is his last source of air, like they have awoken something vast and all-encompassing between then, and when Geralt lays him out on the bedroll his hands don’t leave Geralt’s body for a second. Every touch feels like a revelation, the slide of their bodies creating something larger than themselves.

Geralt looks into Jaskier’s eyes, really looks, like he’s always wanted to, and Jaskier is crying again but it’s real and it’s genuine and it makes Geralt feel like he might be going under himself.

Because this is no performance. This is messy and desperate and heartfelt, without artifice or facade.

Afterwards, they stay twined around each other, Geralt gently brushing his fingers through Jaskier’s hair. “That was…” Geralt trails off. He’s not sure he has the words to explain. No, that’s not true. He does know the word, but he’s terrified to use it.

“Loving,” Jaskier supplies, not meeting his eyes. He sounds very sad about it. “Not much point in hiding from it now, is there?”

Geralt supposes not. He doesn’t just want Jaskier’s body or his company. He wants his heart, and that’s too much to ask for.

Jaskier seems to take his silence as reproach. “I’ve tried to stop it, but I can’t. I love you, Geralt, and that’s how it is.”

Geralt stares, because he is sure, so sure, that he must have misheard. “You what?”

“I didn’t mean…” Jaskier trails off. “No, actually, I did mean it. But you don’t have to say anything, I know that’s not what this is. I’m know I’m not… enough… for you, not like that. We can keep it casual. It’ll be fun.” He looks like he might cry again.

Geralt’s heart soars, like there’s a fountain of warmth and life overflowing in his chest. “You’re an idiot,” he says, and Jaskier’s face falls like he’s been punched as he turns away. Geralt takes his chin and turns his head back so Jaskier can look him in the eye. “You’re an idiot, and so am I. I don’t want casual, Jaskier, I never have.”

Jaskier peers at him like he’s not sure he believes what’s happening. “Then what do you want?”

“I want you.” There it is, in its brutal simplicity. “In every way and in any way you’ll have me.”

The tears start again, and Geralt would feel bad about that but Jaskier is smiling bright as the sun. “You have me. Always have and always will.”

[thearvariblues]

Open Up, Fucknugget!

Based on this POST. I just couldn’t resist, could I? It was supposed to be short and funny, but then it kind of... caught feelings. Don’t worry, it’s still short. And maybe funny.

Basically Idiots In Love, Eskel Is a Good Bro, and Lambert Being... Lambert.

Enjoy!

Also, @lottelorelei, is this what you wanted? :D

***

“What is it, Eskel?” Geralt’s husky voice says from the phone.

“Geralt. Hi. We’re here with Lambert and… Oh, did you just wake up?” Eskel mutters softly.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Lambert growls and lifts his hand to slam his fist on the door. “Open up, fucknugget!” he yells.

“Lambert,” Eskel sighs, rolling his eyes. “We’ve talked about this.”

“It’s half past three, Esk,” Lambert growls. “And the piece of chicken shit isn’t even awake yet. He deserves it.”

“You’re just mad that Aiden didn’t let you sleep until lunch, aren’t you?”

“Hardly. He woke me up by swallowing my cock, so my morning wasn’t exactly horrible.”

“Jesus. Do you even know what too much information means, Lamby?”

“Yup. That’s why I’m not telling you what happened after,” Lambert grins.

“Thanks. Really appreciate it.”

The key rattles in the lock and the door opens to reveal a very ruffled and slightly confused Geralt wrapped in his blanket.

“What the fuck do you want?” he mutters before his eyes fall on a bucket of chicken wings in Eskel’s hand and a six pack of beer in Lambert’s. “Oh, fuck. Gaming Saturday, is it?”

“Are you telling me you forgot, dickhead?” Lambert smirks, already pushing his way in. “Move, it’s cold as fuck outside. And make me a coffee. A big one, Aiden was so bored and horny he woke me up at eight, could you believe that?!”

“Are you feeling alright?” Eskel asks, lifting an eyebrow. “Because if you’re sick or something, I’ll just grab him and we’ll go to my place.”

“He’d probably bite you,” Geralt smirks.

“He’s bitten me before, no big deal.”

“It’s fine. I just… forgot, that’s all. Come in.”

Eskel nods and follows Geralt to the living room, where Lambert is already standing, holding a pair of bright pink boxers between two fingers and studying it with a smirk.

“Well,” he chuckles. “I see your roommate had company yesterday…”

*

Jaskier, who’s currently frantically looking for that very pair of bright pink boxers in Geralt’s bedroom, freezes and his eyes go wide.

“Oh,” he whispers. “Fuck.”

*

Geralt growls and snatches Jaskier’s underwear from Lambert’s hand.

“I’ve told him a million times not to leave his shit lying all around the place,” he says before he starts picking up Jaskier’s clothes – and his own with them.

“Where is he, anyway?” Eskel asks, sitting down in his favorite armchair.

“Do I look like his fucking babysitter?” Geralt grunts.

“Probably went out with yesterday’s fuckboy,” Lambert says helpfully. “You’re a fucking idiot, Wolf, aren’t you?”

Geralt pauses with an armful of clothes and frowns at him.

“Why am I an idiot?”

“Because you’d rather watch him fuck around than tell him you’re madly in love with him?”

Geralt gulps and shoots a glance at the closed door of his bedroom. He can only hope Jaskier didn’t hear.

“I’m with Lambert on that one,” Eskel says, turning on the TV and grabbing a controller. “You should just grow some balls and tell him the truth. Look how grumpy you are just because he had someone over!”

“I’m not grumpy because he had someone over,” Geralt sighs, opens the door of Jaskier’s bedroom and throws the clothes on the floor.

And it’s true. He’s grumpy because when Eskel called, he was just about to be fucked into oblivion by Jaskier.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say,” Lambert shrugs. “Hey, are you gonna spend the whole afternoon wrapped in your blanket? And where’s my fucking coffee?”

“Gimme a minute to put something on, then I’ll make you a fucking coffee.”

“What are we playing today?” Eskel asks just as Geralt’s about to disappear in his bedroom.

“I don’t care. Just choose something.”

The door slams behind Geralt and Lambert chuckles.

“Yeah, he’s not grumpy at all…”

*

When Geralt enters the room, Jaskier is lying on the bed and giving him a look that’s probably meant to convey nothing, but it tells Geralt that he heard everything.

Geralt groans and sits on the bed. A second later, Jaskier is already wrapping his arms around him.

“So, let me guess,” Jaskier murmurs. “I’m supposed to just sit here quietly and wait until your brothers decide to leave, am I right?”

“Well, you could always sneak out through the window and then come back through the front door, pretending you’ve just come back home.”

“Yeah, one tiny problem with that. It seems that I kind of… don’t have any clothes here, babe.”

“Borrow mine, then, sneak out and… I don’t know, go for a walk? Grab a coffee?”

“Mhm…” Jaskier hums against Geralt’s shoulder. “Nah, I’m fine. Can I borrow your laptop to play Sims?”

“Have I ever said no to that?” Geralt grins and turns his head to give Jaskier a brief kiss. “I’m sorry. For… You know.”

“It’s alright. I get it. You’re not ready to tell them yet.”

“It’s not that I’m… I mean, I’m not sure what should we tell them. Hey, you know Jaskier’s my roommate and my best friend, right, well, we’ve also been fuck buddies for about a month now, isn’t it awesome?”

“Oh, Geralt,” Jaskier chuckles softly, his eyes gleaming. “You beautiful, hunky idiot.”

“What?” Geralt blinks. “That’s what we are, isn’t it? Or… friends with benefits, whatever you wish to call it.”

“Geralt. Geralt, Geralt, Geralt,” Jaskier whispers, climbing onto his lover’s lap. “I am just now realizing there’s been a terrible misunderstanding between us. It seems that I have completely failed to mention that I’m madly in love with you, too.”

Geralt’s eyes go almost comically wide.

“Oh,” he gasps as he lets his palms rest on Jaskier’s hips. “I mean… Oh.”

“Oh indeed,” Jaskier grins. “So… What are you going to do about it, Wolf?”

*

Eskel smirks when a loud moan reaches their ears, but he never takes his eyes off the screen.

“Looks like Jaskier’s been found,” he says. “By the way, you owe me a hundred.”

“Fucking motherfucker,” Lambert groans, frantically pushing the buttons on his controller. “I’m gonna kill that bardfucking asshole the second he steps out of the fucking bedroom.”

“Oh, come on. Don’t tell me you weren’t… Fuck off, you ass! Tell me you weren’t sick of them gazing longingly at each other.”

“Of course I was. It was disgusting. Like a pair of lovesick puppies. Ha! Eat shit, you fucker!”

“Now that was just brutal, Lamby,” Eskel sighs and grabs a chicken wing. “Rematch?”

“Sure, why not? Doesn’t sound like they’re about to be finished anytime soon.”

“And good for them.”

Lambert nods and opens a beer.

“Are we ever gonna tell the idiots that we didn’t have a gaming Saturday this week and we just wanted to catch them red-handed?”

“Nah. It’s probably safer if they don’t know.”

A high-pitched yelp sounds from the bedroom and Lambert rolls his eyes.

“Jesus fucking Christ, I fell kind of sorry for their neighbors,” he laughs. “Ready for the rematch, Esk?”

“Yes, please,” Eskel says, grabbing the controller. “And turn the volume up.”

“Already on it. Hey, shouldn’t we order a pizza or something? They’re probably gonna be hungry after an exercise like that.”

“Great idea. You’re paying.”

“Fuck off. The loser pays, and you’ve lost like four matches already.”

“But you lost the bet.”

“You know damn well that doesn’t count!”

There’s a litany of “harder, Jask, harder” coming from the bedroom. Eskel grins.

“Or… We could make them pay for it, to make up for the severe trauma they’re just putting us through.”

“Oh, Eskel,” Lambert snorts. “Never thought you had it in you…”

[wolf-and-bard]

*Giggles at all of your cute chaos cousins posts* *Imagines Ciri’s royal family meeting her Witcher family* I was just wondering if you might wanna write a little something to satisfy my craving for some everyone lives fluff? ❤️ I’m honestly just imagining sweet sea hound Eist meeting and making friends with the wolf boys XD

My friend ♥️ Do excuse the long wait, my brain was not in the mood for fluff for a bit there. This did turn out rather silly, but I hope you can enjoy it anyway! Maybe don't take it too seriously 😂

Everyone lives family-floof (with some vaguely implied Lambskel), rated T, 3.1k. Enjoy!

„Welcome, welcome,“ the crashing mine-cart voice of Crach en Craite boomed up the gangway which Geralt treaded lightly, Ciri clinging to his backside. The girl had slept through half of their ship’s journey and was still softly snoring. Geralt could feel drool against his neck, but he didn’t mind so much with her. It made him bite down on a smile as he set foot on the wooden planks of the dock.

The air around them was filled with the general clamour of Ard Skellig’s harbour, people that embarked and disembarked from various vessels, traders that carried wares to and fro, merchants that advertised their wares, children that spent their lazy afternoons watching the various ships dock.

Nothing of the wars with Nilfgaard had reached the Skellige Isles, not a single galley of the Black Ones, nor yet a spark of the fires that consumed the Northern Kingdoms. Nothing of the wars had reached their host either. Crach stood as a proud and stout warrior with open arms and a stately set of his shoulders, smiling broadly through his thick beard.

“Well met, Jarl,” Geralt said.

„Geralt of Rivia,“ he hollered and laughed and came up to Geralt to greet him before he noticed Ciri on his back. „By Freya, if it isn’t my dear cousin.“ Ciri perked up at that, and laughed when she saw the low bow Crach was giving her. She tugged on Geralt’s hair and he let her down with a grunt.

“Cousin Crach,” she squealed and barrelled into him under his thunderous laughter.

Geralt crossed his arms and smiled as the two of them hugged out their reunion, Crach bent low to wrap his huge arms around Ciri’s body, still small in spite of all the training she had done under the witchers’ careful instruction. Speaking of which…

“Man, this place stinks,” Lambert complained as he joined Geralt on the dock. His face was slightly pale, had taken on a greenish taint, and he wore a constant scowl. “Please don’t tell me all they have to eat is fish, I’d kill for a roasted chicken leg right now.”

“Fine, I won’t tell you,” Eskel said and he too took up position on Geralt’s side. Vesemir was the last to leave the ship, having chatted with the captain about sightings of rare sea creatures all journey long, and he looked as vivacious and happy as Lambert looked annoyed and sickly. A flush was spread over his cheeks and a bounce suffused his step making him seem younger than the lot of them which was a ridiculous notion. Geralt huffed, and jostled Lambert lightly.

“Fuck off!” the youngest wolf yapped and jostled him right back.

“I brought my family,” Ciri announced when she wound out of Crach’s embrace and her eyes glittered, a sea-weed green under the afternoon sun which hung in a cloudless sky. Her chest swelled in pride as she waved Crach over to introduce them.

“You know Geralt of course,” she said and Crach and Geralt exchanged another nod. Crach winked and Geralt bit down on his laughter. “The greatest witcher to ever walk the Continent!”

“I have a thing or two to say to that,” Vesemir huffed.

“You’re right, the second-greatest witcher to ever walk the Continent. Vesemir taught him,” Ciri explained and Crach saluted Vesemir loosely, then turned to the other two.

“These are my uncles Eskel and Lambert.”

“Not your uncle, kiddo,” Lambert grumbled.

“As you can see, Uncle Lambert is a massive killjoy. But he can be fun if he wants to be, he taught me how to make bombs.”

Geralt waited for the realization to hit Crach, the sudden understanding that having this girl live with four witchers of all people might have been the worst thing to happen to her, and that he should have them all executed for their crimes against the crown. But Crach only chuckled which, if anything, made Lambert even more suspicious. Geralt could see it in his narrowed eyes.

“Uncle Eskel is the best cook ever and he’s so strong. He once carried me and Uncle Lambert to bed when we fell asleep playing Gwent on the battlements. He makes a super strong herbal tea and he knows all about the weirdest kinds of monsters, those even witchers get to fight rarely. But don’t cross him, I hear his Axiis can knock you right out.”

“They can,” Eskel said, a faint blush clinging to his cheeks. “But so can my fists. Thank you for having us, Jarl.”

“I don’t have a fucking clue what you’re talking about, but I’m sure these men are great people and fine company. Welcome to all of you and my sincerest thanks for taking my cousin in. Her family is ours also and shall be welcomed on Ard Skellig henceforth. Please, dear witchers, follow me, there is much ale to toast with and a few other people that should like to make your acquaintance. Our servants have prepared a royal feast in your honour.”

“Royal feast, who gives a shit. Don’t think we will be wooed by manners and wine,” Lambert muttered and Crach laughed. “We’re only here because the brat was nagging us about it.”

“Don’t worry, Uncle Lambert,” Ciri said and batted her lashes at him. “There’ll be beer and cuss words and all the types of fish you can imagine, it’ll be right up your alley.”

“Call me uncle one more time,” Lambert said through his teeth and Eskel drew an arm around his shoulder to pull him close, then whispered something into his ear which Vesemir and Geralt heard, but the others couldn’t. Lambert flushed red, Eskel smirked, and Vesemir scowled at them. Geralt shook his head, biting down on an amused smile.

“We would love to join you in the keep,” he said. Ciri beamed at him, and so did Crach. Lambert was suspiciously quiet all the way up.

---

The moment Crach threw open the grand double doors at the end of the bridge that led into the entrance hall of Ard Skellig’s keep, a blur of reds and browns came shooting from a dark corner and barrelled straight into Ciri, knocking her over. All four witchers fell into various fighting stances immediately, their focus trailed on the heap of limbs on the floor, but as soon as Ciri’s excited giggles echoed through the great space, they relaxed.

“Cerys,” Ciri laughed and they tumbled about on the floor, Ciri and a girl that was no more than a couple years younger than she. She had flaming red hair and wore a version of Crach’s armour, adjusted to fit her still growing body. The girl grappled with Ciri, then tried to pin her down, but Ciri’s training kicked in – Geralt noticed her perfect execution of a manoeuvre that flipped their positions – and she gained the upper hand. Cerys stared up at her, wide-eyed, then burst into laughter that too matched the thunder of her father. It was amazing, coming from such a small person.

“You,” Cerys hissed between hiccups of laughter. “You abandoned me. You promised to be here for my birthday, but you abandoned me for what? This group of stinky old men?” She glared at the witchers, or tried to, but her eyes spelled mirth.

“We’re not adopting another child,” Lambert said and Eskel jostled him. Vesemir and Crach were both smiling into their beards.

“My darling Cerys,” Ciri said and leaned down to kiss her on the forehead, the cheeks, the nose. Cerys howled in dismay and wriggled in Ciri’s grip, all in good humour. “How you’ve grown.” With that, Ciri let her go and pulled her cousin up with her. The girls regared each other for a long moment, then fell into a bear hug.

Geralt watched them, arms crossed, and felt his heart warm at the sight. He hadn’t realized prior to this trip, stupidly hadn’t realized, how much family Ciri still had, how many connections to the world. When he’d taken her in, the only thing on his mind had been getting her to safety. He’d thought she had no one left and now here she was, a bright young girl, on her way to become the first ever female witcher, with two families to call her own. There were doubts there too, of course. Should he have brought her here in the first place?

“You did good with her, wolf,” Vesemir said as he came up to Geralt’s side and placed a light hand on his bicep.

“We all did, even Lambert,” Geralt said. “But maybe it’s time to give her back to the world?”

“She would have your cock sizzling over a campfire for that if you even implied it.” Geralt’s eyes widened and he stared at Vesemir. Vesemir had his gaze fixed on the still hugging girls, but his moustache twitched. “She’s one of us now, Geralt.”

Geralt accepted that in silence. Right then, his ears pricked up as he heard two more people approach from a stairway to the right. One of them Geralt recognized instantly in his proud bearing and his weathered face. Eist Tuirseach, former Jarl of Skellige, King of the fallen country of Cintra, always bore himself with pride, nobility and mischief woven about his person like an invisible cloak. Geralt liked the old sea bear, even though he’d only met the man briefly at his and Calanthe’s betrothal. The day Geralt had claimed Ciri as his child surprise. He saw Geralt and nodded slightly, then his eyes fell to Ciri – who had finally let go of Cerys – and they widened, lips parting in a gasp as though, up until now, he hadn’t quite believed she would come.

“Cirilla,” he said, oh so quietly, but she heard. She’d been wintering with wolves, she heard. And in an instant, she was across the space between them, had hurled herself into his arms. Ciri shrank then, back into the girl Geralt had first picked up in the middle of the war and Eist’s eyes filled with tears as he crouched down to envelop her in his arms which were clad in furs. He buried his face in her hair and both sobbed quietly.

“Who is he?” Eskel asked under his breath.

“Her grandfather,” Geralt replied to put it simple. Titles would mean nothing to Eskel, nor to Lambert. His brothers actually cared as much about politics as Geralt pretended to care about them which was nothing at all.

“I had not known King Eist had survived the war,” Vesemir said to Crach. The two warriors were standing off to the side, heads tucked together while Eskel stood with Geralt and Lambert… Lambert sat cross-legged on the floor, caught in a staring match with little Cerys. In all of that, the broad but hunched figure of what Geralt assumed was Cerys’ brother, got lost somehow. He stood close to Eist, eyes trailed at the ground. Geralt dismissed him as unthreatening and insignificant, and refocused his attention to Eist and Ciri who were still holding onto each other as though the White Frost was about to sweep over the lands and they could only fend it off by hugging. Something barbed lodged in Geralt’s throat at the sight. He swallowed it down. He was not Ciri’s father.

As if she could sense his distress, Ciri detached herself and walked back to the wolves, beckoning Eist to come along.

“You’ve got to meet them all,” she said to the old king. “You can’t imagine what they’re like.”

“I really can’t,” Eist said. There was a healthy flush on his cheeks and he wouldn’t meet Geralt’s eyes. It was a good thing because if he had, they might have just both lost it over Ciri’s antics. It was like she’d de-aged by half a decade, childish excitement replacing the determined wolf she’d become.

“You have met Geralt. And this next to him is Eskel, my favourite uncle,” Ciri expained and Eist and Eskel shook hands.

“Hey, I heard that!” Lambert called and Cerys whooped, having won the staring match upon Lambert’s indignant outcry.

“I thought you weren’t my uncle,” Ciri retorted and they spent a moment sticking their tongues out at each other as Eskel and Eist briefly chatted about the sea journey to which Geralt hummed along. It was a lot, all these people in a room together, and he had expected them to clash, but somehow… it worked out.

At first, they’d all thought it was a terrible idea. They’d gotten word from the Skellige Isles, a coded message that had contained an invitation for the witchers and Ciri – if the rumours of her survival should be true – to sail to Ard Skellig and stay with the an Craites who’d become part of her family by her grandmother’s marriage to Crach’s uncle.

Vesemir had been completely against it, Eskel had refrained from commenting on the matter and simply gotten ready for another year on the Path, Lambert had kept spewing all the reasons why they shouldn’t at anyone who would listen. Geralt… Geralt had wanted to do good by Ciri and he’d known she needed it. To be with normal people, people that knew her in a way the witchers couldn’t. He’d also painfully understood Lambert’s arguments. It was dangerous for anyone involved. But in the end, Ciri had put on all her charms, had gotten out her arsenal of annoyance, and had convinced them to dare. They rarely did that these days, daring. They’d discussed it over the fire one night, and had decided, collectively decided because unfathomably, the girl wanted them all to come, to indulge her. And here they were.

“So,” Vesemir said as he approached Eist, both thumbs hooked into his belt and one eyebrow raised in his best impression of the hard teacher he used to be. Eist did not cower. “You are the reason this girl has been playing all manners of pranks on me.”

“I should hope so. Someone has to be around for her to fill their shoes with muck and put hair dye in their soap and so on. I would be direly disappointed in Cirilla if she hadn’t found someone to pester while he were separated,” Eist said and extended a hand. Vesemir glanced down at it, pretended to ponder, and Geralt and Eskel turned their heads down to hide their smiles. “Call me Eist.”

“Do you know, Eist, that I have woken up with my feet coated in honey and ants only yesterday?”

“That was Lambert’s idea though,” Ciri protested.

“Well, this Lambert must be an absolutely charming young man then,” Eist chuckled and from Lambert’s glare he did not cower either.

“I’m older than you, grandpa, I’ve had enough of this,” Lambert said. “You know what? That bridge looked funny. I think I’ll just go and jump over the railing it and see how many somersaults I can do on the way down. Aiden taught me a new way to get more spinning power.” With that, the youngest wolf got up, gave Cerys a pat on the head and made a run for it.

“LAMBERT, NO,” both Vesemir and Eskel shouted and gave chase, and Crach and Eist bellowed out laughter. Geralt and Ciri rolled their eyes at each other. It was then that Ciri finally noticed her other cousin, and only because Cerys stood by his side now. That close, the similarities were uncanny, brother and sister no doubt. They had the same long nose, the same hands. Hands that had wielded steel before and often. In a way, then, Ciri might fit in better now than she had before. Before Kaer Morhen, before the war. Before her life had fallen to pieces around her.

“Hjalmar,” Ciri said and approached the pair of siblings. Hjalmar shrugged, then walked away without sparing her a glance.

“He’s having a phase,” Cerys huffed. “We’ll hang out after dinner! Now that you’re apparently a fighter, we ought to spar. We can, father, right?” Both girls looked to Crach who seemed a little forlorn all by himself, eyes darting between where the witchers had disappeared to, where Hjalmar had disappeared to, and where Cerys and Ciri made puppy eyes at him.

“Cerys may fight, of course,” Crach said. “But I cannot decide for Cirilla.”

“Cirilla can damn well decide for herself,” Ciri said, fist clenching as if around the grip of an invisible sword. Back in Kaer Morhen, she would be scolded for backing down on a challenge and so she shook Cerys’ hand now before the girl trailed after her brother.

“I should… make sure they don’t set the place on fire. Eist will show you to your rooms once the rest of your family returns,” Crach said with a wave and followed his children with heavy steps, each a sigh against the carpet.

“Right then,” Ciri said and turned to Geralt and Eist, now the only people left in attendance. “What have you been up to, grandpa?”

“Oh, we’ve been spending our days on the terraces, watching for whales and counting seals. Calanthe has been bored out of her mind, as I’m sure you can imagine.”

Geralt froze and so did Ciri. They exchanged a long look and Geralt could smell the tears prickle in Ciri’s eyes, but they didn’t manifest. Geralt gave an almost imperceptible nod and Ciri turned back to Eist, drawing a deep breath.

“She’s alive then.”

“She’s alive.”

“I want to see her,” Ciri demanded and held out her hand for Eist to take. To guide her. This was not a reunion Geralt needed to pry into, and so he inclined his head and gestured for them to go on.

“But Ciri,” Eist said and squeezed her hand. His voice had fallen to a quieter key and Geralt cocked his head to listen for his heartbeat. Not faster, slower if anything, but a certain tension was there nonetheless. There was something wrong with Calanthe. Something significant. “She might not be awake. She… rarely is.”

“What happened to her?”

“I think I should see how many somersaults Lambert managed,” Geralt interjected carefully and made to leave, but Ciri grabbed his hand before he could. Their eyes met again and hers were hard around the edges, softened on the inside. I need you, Geralt, the flicker in them said. And Geralt was not her father, not yet, he thought, and he didn’t know if he ever would be, but he would never deny her a request like this. She needed him, Geralt was there.

Eist glanced at where they held hands and his weary expression was washed away by a wistful smile.

“Knowing Calanthe, she should like to explain it to you in due time. You will see that she was wounded in the storm on Cintra and is still in recovery.”

“She’s the Lioness,” Ciri said simply. “She will roar and rise again.”

That she will, Geralt thought. And you right alongside her.

[dapandapod]

Panda panda panda Triss and Eskel, but as best friends. Doing the thing where you both sit in a meadow and pile grass on the other, or something else stupid

Ella-la my darling, I love this idea very much! And thus I give to you a much longer thing than I expected, but I hope you like it! <3

On Ao3 here, because I can’t resist it.  Thank you lovely @kuripon, my rock when grammar and words are my enemy! You are the best!

Here be swearing, pining and friends being there for each other when they try to accept things about oneself. Enjoy <3

As unlikely as it might seem, Eskel has a best friend. No, it’s not a goat. And no, it’s not Geralt, as surprising as that is.

It is a small sorceress with brown, unruly locks and a wicked sense of humor. Triss and Eskel met thanks to Ciri, and Yennefer, and Geralt, and somehow even that bard that pops up everywhere.  Again and again they ran into each other until they didn’t have a choice but to like each other.

Triss and Eskel are rather alike, actually. Most take them for even tempered, kind and stoic. Nobody suspects them if Roach ends up getting a dick shaved onto her butt. Nobody would suspect them to sneak a bit of dried fish inside Jaskier's lute. Nobody would suspect them of being behind the fishing with dynamite accident. Nobody but Lambert, because he was the one who got the blame.

Sometimes they seek each other out, to share herbs with each other or just a really good cup of tea. Eskel really likes her company and she listens quietly when he tells her about his scars. He too is quiet when she talks about hers, the hidden ones that run far deeper than they have any right to.

When Triss fell for Yennefer, it was Eskel by her side. Feelings always appear at the worst possible moment. Or at least, are realized. Sodden Hill was a terrible fight, and Yennefer had disappeared for many months. He held her hand on a pebbled beach far away from the world, watching the stars move across the night sky.

When Eskel realized he doesn’t fall in love, that he won't, she was there for him. He isn't sad per se. It is not a loss when it is something you never had. But it was yet another thing that made him different from others. She listened to his thoughts and worries, and assured him there were other more meaningful bonds to be had than romantic ones.

This is one of those times, when they have found each other. Triss found herself lodging in Vizima and he came to visit her. They don’t need horses, preferring to make the long walk out of town and into nature. They find a glade between crooked birch trees, the grass high and perfect to sit down and make grass people in. Better that than a straight up butt print, Triss tells him as she rolls around and waves her arms.

“Who is babysitting Lil Bleater?” Triss asks.

“She can babysit herself perfectly fine. It's Big Bleater I’m worried about.” Eskel replies, carefully choosing strands of grass into a bouquet. 

“Dare I ask?” Triss smiles, closing her eyes and enjoying the sun.

“I found a baby monster. Decided to raise it.”

“.....So you named it Big Bleater.” Triss deadpans.

“It’s a good name.” Eskel shrugs and picks another straw. “Lay still.”

He starts placing them in a shape on her stomach. Piling some into a big circle and then carefully placing out straw after straw.

“Am I getting pretty now?” 

“Nothing can help you, I’m afraid. Lost cause.”

“I will shave Bleater too, don’t think I will!” Triss threatens, dislodging some grass and Eskel sends her a warning glare.

“Which one of them?” Eskel says, picking up the fallen straw and patiently placing them back to where they were. It is starting to get a shape. If you squint.

“Both.” Triss promises.

“Best of luck, ugly one,” Eskel says, grinning. Triss sits up, grass falling everywhere and smacks his arms hard.

“Ouch! My goat!” Eskel rubs at the arm and looks dejected at the grass strewn all over Triss’ dress.

“If you are lucky, I might just turn you into a goat.”

“Kinky.” Eskel smirks, and Triss slaps his arm again. “Will you stop that?!”

“No. You deserved it.”

“What did I do?!”

“What didn’t you do?!”

“True! But in my defence, it was free,” Eskel counters, and tosses a fistful of grass in her face.

“You know what? I think I actually would like you better as a goat,” Triss says, looking at him appraisingly. The grass is stuck in her curls, and will probably stay there for the rest of the day. That’s a thought.

“Doubt it. I’m not as well behaved as the Bleaters,” Eskel says, throwing more grass in her hair.

“Fine. Then I’ll turn all your clothes pink.”

“If you do, I’m telling Yen you like her.”

Triss gasps. “You’ll do no such thing!!”

 The war continues on, and Eskel finds that he is smiling more than he has all year. They walk back together arm in arm, pausing to let Triss collect a weird snail they find by the trail. There is still grass in her hair, and as they walk through the streets of Vizima they get funny looks.

Eskel wishes he could stay, but there is a contract in a hamlet a day's ride from here that is waiting for him. He follows her to her door, and when she smiles and tilts her head at him, he can’t believe how lucky he is. Grass is still sticking out of her curls, and he has no intention of telling her.

“I’ve missed you,” He says, and she puts a hand up and cups his scarred cheek.

“And I you, my dear friend. I’m glad you came by.”

She wraps her arms around his waist, resting her head against his chest. He hugs her back, and actually picks her up. She laughs, unguarded and free, as he spins them around and squeezes.

“Silly witcher,” she chides, but allows it all the same. “Next time I see you, I want to hear nothing about succubi, please,” she teases.

“And next time I see you, I want you to have kissed Yennefer.”

“Gods, I wish,” she mutters, and Eskel grins again. He had noticed Yennefer open the door behind Triss while they were speaking, but Triss had yet to notice.

“See you, little witch.” Eskel says, and hurries down the steps. He gives a small wave. “And nice seeing you, Yennefer!”

Triss twists around with a gasp, turning bright red. Yennefer looks equally stunned and they stare at each other for a second.

“ESKEL!” Triss shrieks, and Eskel hurries away. He knows there will be revenge, but he hopes Triss will manage to kiss that witch of hers before then.

[oh-for-fic-sake]

Geeking Out

Masterlist

You work onset of the witcher as the resident handy girl there to repair the props onset rather then them being sent off to be fixed, when working on Geralt’s sword Henry comes across you and with one slip of the tongue your inner geeks collide.

Warnings: Fluff, Swearing

A/N: Had this on my mind for a while just a cute little fluff piece hope you enjoy XX

Taglist: @havenoffandoms​ @iloveyouyen​ @angelofthor​ @thatgirly81​

Incredible text dividers are from @writeyourmindaway​ I suggest you go check out her others they are soo usefull xx.

You hummed quietly managing to secure yourself a table in one of the busy tents just off set, you moved quickly furiously mixing the epoxy trying to combine the two parts with the lolly stick. Your task? you were trying to fix Geralt’s sword there had been a small mishap during a scene renfri's brooch had been hit in one of the takes and had come off. Your job was to put it back on and make sure its stays on , so this time you were forgoing the original glue and using a tiny amount of epoxy it was stronger and once it cured that little brooch wasn't coming off for love nor money. Your job was maintenance on the props ,you were kept onset with a small arsenal of tools to fix anything that gets damaged quick and skilled repair jobs anything from the horse tack to props jewellery the only things you didn't touch was wardrobe because...Fuck no. Textiles was not your thing.

You moved fast wanting to have it mixed thoroughly. This particular resin cured fast...very fast well for resin anyway, so it was always a rush to combine it. You moved a syringe and pulled the plunger up then dotted the resin on the hilt of the sword swiftly applying the brooch then looked around for the clamp. Shit. It was to far you couldn't reach it. You tried stretching down into your bag for it but it was no use suddenly someone was behind you.

"Need help?" You nodded to the slim clamp in the bag

"Yeah could you pass me the clamp forgot to get it out just got this bloody thing central and can't risk it slipping" you focused on your work holding the brooch steady as the person hummed leaning down then handed it to you.

"Cheers lovey" you thanked them and leaned down with one final check that everything was positioned correctly nodding you placed a rag across it protecting it and clamped it securely.

"Sorry about that... Misjudged the angle and hit it to hard I'm afraid" you froze looking up seeing Henry in full wardrobe bar his contacts smiling sheepishly. Even tho you'd been onset this whole time you'd never actually spoke to any of the cast there was no need. You quickly swallowed your shock and laughed.

"Don’t matter to me, keeps me in a job so go nuts!" you both laughed he looked over the things you had out across the table, you followed his gaze. Noting how he then moved to stare at you intently, you felt a flush creep across your chest but cleared your throat nodding to the prop.

"I've used epoxy on it ...It should be a lot stronger." He hummed not really paying attention.

"Anyway its not your fault they used a mid strength glue last time.. I don't think they had a clue how much of a beating it was gonna take" he hummed then peeked over the cup that had a small amount of resin in it still.

"So I can go to town on it?" You nodded wiping your hands down and smirked at him.

"Knock yourself out muscles! I doubt even you will be able to snap that off again....And that's not a challenge either" he rubbed the back of his head smirking at you as you moved dumping the cup with the left overs in a bag then in a small bucket with sand in it that was used as an ashtray for the crew on set. He looked at you questioning. You nodded to it.

"Get's hot when curing so I will leave it there to be safe then take it out when its set..." he hummed in agreement  then moved with you helping to pack up your things.

"So how long will it take to be finished then?" You froze wide eyed

"Why do they need it now?" You panicked they had said it wasn't needed today so you could work on it... did they change their mind? he quickly held his hands up

"No no we are done with it for today...I just wondered was all.." you stopped and flushed at him, you felt a little embarrassed as you had begun to cuss him out in your head thinking he was being rude trying to rush you.

"About an hour...Well I hope an hour it really depends, if there is any leakage  then I will have to sand it with my dremel...and to do a proper job of that I'd need to go through a few different grits and but if theres no leakage  or any nastiness then we should be done in about half an hour....This epoxy cures in ten to twelve  minutes but to be sure I'd want to leave it around twenty to twenty five ish but either way by the end of the day you sir will have your sword back." He looked between you and his prop wilth a huge smile.

"Sounds like a plan! .....Still feel bad tho I'm sure you have tonnes to do already...nevermind me adding to it." You waved him of with a wide grin

"Your kidding! Been waiting to get my hands on this baby since day one! Needed to see the details for my -" you stopped yourself before you said to much not wanting to 'geek out' in front of him he tilted his head sharply.

"Your what? You making a replica or something?" You flushed at him bobbing your head side to side a little.

"Well yes and no...not a full scale one I'm gonna make a mini..." his face lit up and you could see him become excited.

"You make mini's? Like wow and stuff?" He asked buzzing in the way all geeks do when they find a fellow nerd to speak geek with. You giggled an nodded.

"Yes I can't paint them to save my life but I draw and make them on the pc for people to download and use on their 3d printers....I'm more into scenery dioramas...I make tabletop boards" he grinned at you practically vibrating on the spot.

"Seriously? That’s soo cool...Do you have any pictures of them?" You smiled and nodded just as you got your phone out you both heard it Henry's name was called by Joey he sighed and gave a small chuckle.

"Looks like I'm needed...I will be back later to see them and collect my sword...If not hold on to it for me?" You gave him a funny look as he stayed for a moment giving you his best puppy eyes. You laughed and nodded to him, he grinned and quickly left. You stood dumbfounded as he stole a few glances over his shoulder at you before disappearing around the corner. Well that was weird, normally the props were picked up by...well anyone to be stored the cast never did hence why you'd never seen them. You shrugged it off and continued placing your stuff away zipping up your bag.

That was the first time you met the man, later that day he did indeed return and spent nearly two hours geeking out looking at your collection of dioramas, he specifically liked the ones base on Lord of the rings and the few marvel and dc ones you'd done. All of which were centered around villains. It wasn't long before it became a habit that between takes he would seek you out, sometimes bringing Joey along. Soon you found yourselves together all the time, they seemed fascinated by your work and hobby always asking questions, to the point you'd snapped at them when they wouldn't shut up when you tried fixing a particularly fiddly jewellery piece . Even then they stayed sitting either side of you staring as you maneuvered the tiny gems and links back into place.

By the time the production came to a end you had all become close friends each of you exchanging numbers and always texting in a group chat. You couldn't help harboring a little crush on Henry, and you had tried but he was just so...him and maybe he liked you back? You wasn't sure but he seemed to be touchy...Not in a bad way god no! But he was a hugger and holder. When ever he was around you he always seemed to be touching you in some way holding your hand or arm as he dragged you about set,slinging an arm around your shoulders or waist at lunch or when you was working stuff like that. Maybe you were just reading into things to much but it felt like there might be something there. Or at least you hoped there might be, he was sweet funny and dorky but still mature and masculine he was basically your dream man, and then some!

You sulked today was your final day on set you were looking forward to returning home and just relaxing but at the same time you'd miss the guys. You'd all clicked with one another and were so used to them popping up whenever. You tilted your head as you ran your pen across the sketch in you book. It was a close up of Jaskier’s lute details you'd been working on. You were trying to take your mind off things you were scared of them forgetting about you, it wasn't often you managed to click with people let alone men, you supposed you were anxious usually you were fine alone but you found yourself craving company since hanging around them. You glanced up when you heard them before you saw them as they approached you . Sitting up you quickly shook off your sadness as they both made their way across to you.

"Hey bitches" they chuckled at you taking seats at the table the three of you had claimed for the past months.

"God I can't believe its over...I cant wait to see it!" Joey said enthusiastically make you and Henry nod.

"Me neither its gonna be incredible! Its gonna be big you know that don't you? After the great flop of game of thrones their fanbase are gonna be lost and looking for something similar" Joey blinked he hadn't thought of that.

"Really? Didn't think of it like that." You smiled at him and wriggled your eyebrows "And you sir are never escaping that fucking song either so be prepared" he furrowed his brows

"How’d you know about that?" You smirked

"It was one of the few scenes I was allowed to watch them film...and it was stuck in my head for a fucking week the worst bit? I couldn't go and download it from youtube either it was hell!" He chuckled at your frown and leaned over you his eyes caught the page you were working on it was the first time he'd caught a glimpse at your artwork.

"Oh shit! That’s cool" you looked down alarmed then went to cover your image but he had already pulled it from under your nose.

"Henry look!" You flushed a not wanting them to see your sketches. He smiled and flicked a few pages. He looked up through his lashes at you.

"These are really good y/n super detailed... They for your mini's?" You nodded at him sheepishly as you noticed he had found your Geralt cheat sheet. He smirked seeing the page full of his Geralt pulling various faces then skipped a few pages to Joey's Jaskier.  He past it back to him.

"Here there's yours" Joey gasped at them

"Holy shit...Did you do all the cast? Are you gonna 3d print em?" You nodded to him

"I did the main cast once I get home I’m gonna start putting them into the computer but yes eventually they will be printed for people to use...After I sort them out  I’m gonna be making a witcher diorama to display them." Henry smiled at you

"Can you teach me to make one?" You blinked at him not sure you’d heard him right

"What?" He nodded to your book.

"Id like a set for my collection and small a diorama for them...I have always wanted to try it but it seems expensive to get the stuff if I’m crap at it...And it would be fun to make one with you...If you wanted to that is?" You flushed at him gaping.

"Err Ive never done a collaboration before but sure we could give it a go...Could do a witcher one for you to display these mini's...I wont be painting them tho not good at it, sketching is fine but I can't do detail paint....scenery is more forgiving... " he nodded enthusiastically at you like a kid on Christmas.

"Really! Fuck Absolutely! I always wanted to try scenery that would be brilliant." He flushed a little as Joey snorted at him and received a sharp look. It had become common knowledge that he had a thing for you. Everyone seemed to have caught on to it and had all told him to go for it but he was shy...He was nervous what if he had read you wrong? And you didn't like him back? He would be quite embarrassed  and torn up if he asked you out and you shot him down...so no he would settle for being friends.You smiled at him missing their exchange between them.

"Err sure just let me know when your free...I’m not that far from You in London right? Just give me a heads up when you wanna come round" Henry looked ecstatic, it was true he had found out a few weeks ago you was literally Fifteen minutes away from his place in London. He realized you had caught him staring blushing he moved directing his attention back to your drawings again. Joey noticed the awkward moment and swiftly poked your side.

"I want some too! A perfect mini me! Just what everyone needs" You scoffed

"A mini you sounds like a threat! god help us all!" You all laughed spending the remaining time reminiscing on the last few weeks until finally it was time for you to leave. You pouted hugging both of them.

"Gonna miss you two have fun on the promotion tour and stay in touch okay guys" they smiled hugging you back Henry squeezed you tight pulling you up off of the floor making you whine at him.

"I will definitely call and will probably be round September October time" you nodded and finally wriggled away from him leaving the hotel heading home.

Once home you quickly got to work uploading and designing your mini's on the pc you had been speaking to the boys a bit but as time went on you heard less and less from Henry until finally six weeks later all conversation had stopped. Which really didn't surprise you, he was busy...Well that's what you told yourself, it was a shitty excuse you were saying to keep yourself from getting upset. you had found yourself enjoying his company to much. You liked him like liked him, it was fun talking to him,  he was interested in the same things as you and was funny and you had brilliant banter you wasn't constantly worried about how you acted around him because he just got you, you thought you’d both got on well and could remain friends. Somewhere in the back of your mind you stupidly had hoped something would come of it ....But that was a silly childish fantasy. Still you asked Joey a few times and he said that Henry was dealing with some stuff and would come around eventually but it did nothing to cheer you up. You resigned yourself to the fact that he was bored and needed someone to talk to on set that was it. You and Joey still spoke at least once a week even if it was just a quick 'hi how are you?'. You could kick yourself as even when you realized Henry wasn't going to meet up with you, you still began his diorama... Some silly little hope that he might still show but it was unlikely so the diorama was now yours ,you'd planned to make one using your new Netfilx witcher mini's the base was done and you were building up the Styrofoam. The design was going to be a small woodland area with a tiny waterfall running into a stream next to the witchers camp in which the four main characters would sit...Well five including roach. You sighed looking at the blocks of Styrofoam they had been glued down and are now ready to be carved. It had been ready for two weeks but... You suppose it was a little hope that if you didn't start it he would come around like he said. But when Christmas came and went you finally realized he wasn't coming.

Just as you moved to the wall socket and turned on your hot wire cutter you heard the doorbell go frowning you got up dragging your feet as you walked through the kitchen to the hall, as you got closer you could see a huge frame through the frosted glance. It looked a lot like..

"Henry? What are you?" He smiled sheepishly down at you. He chuckled nervously.

"Ah hi y/n...Long time no see?" You crossed you arms at him making him gulp.

"What can I do for you?" You tried keeping your voice even tho inside you were a a quivering mess of irritation anxiety and my god you felt weak in The knees and all the man was doing was standing there!how you even formed words you don't know. Henry the man you'd been pining over was here. He was on your doorstep. And you hadn't let him in what the fuck? why hadn't you invited him in yet?. Pride was the answer, you didn't want to seem desperate. he just straight up ignored you...for months!. You were intent on being angry with him, wanting to give him a piece of your mind. just as you rose your gaze to his you froze.Shit. you gulped eyes softening as you took in his appearance, he looked so anxious and guilty? even then he took your breath away, as gorgeous as you remembered him. he stood a little less confident to what you remembered shoulders slouched his eyes darting around almost as if he was fearful of your reaction, you took a deep breath gripping your front door in a white knuckle grip.He looked to you neighbors door step seeing the nosey old women Mrs Hamlin standing there staring outright, then turned to you going a little red twisting his coat pockets in his hands sighing, sucking it up and started talking.

"Hey I know we haven't been talking its just I ah...well I got a little caught up with the promo tour and that then had to negotiate season two and on the way to the final stop I lost my phone-well I destroyed it really dropped a fucking dumbbell on the thing in the gym..Then Christmas was hectic...Anyway that’s not the point...The point is by the time I got a new phone and found Joeys number and had him send me yours it...I felt like I had left it to long to reply... I wasn't sure if you'd be angry thinking I was ignoring you..." you blinked up at him stunned. That’s why he suddenly stopped he broke his phone and lost you number? You took a step back feeling incredibly stupid. You’d honestly began thinking the worst of him. You felt so bad.

"So...instead of phoning or texting you thought you'd just...come round?" He winced at you tone

"I wanted to talk in person...I wanted you to know I was genuinely sorry...I am sorry I let my anxiety get the better of me...I-I should go" you panicked as he began to turn around and quickly grabbed his arm

"Thank you Henry...You don't owe me anything but you coming here to speak to me means a lot ...I just assumed you were busy...I'll admit I did get a little upset when time went on and you still didn't reply...But now I understand why, we waited for each other to start a conversation again, like a couple  of school kids...Would you like to come in for a coffee?" He grinned wide and nodded glancing to the side eyeing your neighbor who had continued staring at him. You followed his gaze she was really giving him the evil eye.

"What er what is wrong with your neighbor? I mean I knocked on the wrong house but she is kind of freaking me out." You glanced at her and smiled waving

"Morning Mrs Hamlin" she hissed out a pleasant 'go fuck yourself' at you and entered slamming her door. You laughed at Henry's shocked face.

"She's just not a people person...Any way come in your letting all my heat out" you moved to the side letting him enter the small hall closing the door behind him.

"Hang your coat up and I will get some tea on" he did as you asked and followed you to the kitchen then spied your hobby room.

"Is that where you do all your bits?" You smiled nodding as you made the tea

"Yep! Here come in I was just about to start on the witcher one you can help carve, here I'll show you" he followed like a lost puppy paying attention as you began to guide him through the steps letting him carve out the shapes you wanted smiling ear to ear the whole time as you showed him your plan for the scene.

It took a week but finally the diorama was finished, Henry bless him had found some of the steps tricky resulting in a few cuts and burns from the hot wire cutter but he had enjoyed every second of it.Today was the last day working on the project everything was done and you both looked at it.

"Wow its a lot of steps but...It look so realistic...I loved doing the water ripples using the airgun tho it was genius!" You smiled looking at it then jumped up.

"Not finished yet tho here, I printed them last night." You moved over to a small tub with your Netflix Witcher cast mini's and roach in it, they were in isopropyl  alcohol to clean them up after printing. You'd spent some time re-scaling them to fit the scene you'd just finished. His eye went wide as he saw them.

"Wow...these are from your drawings...How'd you get so much detail...May I?" You nodded to him as he carefully moved them from the tub and inspected them. He was fascinated.

"Thank you so much! Their great...perfect even...I've had so much fun this week" you patted his arm

"Me to big guy, its been nice having someone around to talk to, your really good with a bit more work you’ll be making your own in no time" he moved placing the mini's on the finished diorama then stood back.

"That’s a bit of a stretch don't you think...I'm dreading painting it tho.." you laughed holding your hands up.

"Hey don't look at me I print em you paint em that Mr Cavill was the deal" he rolled his eyes biting his lip. The last week had been above and beyond what he had hoped for. He couldn't help wanting more from you tho, he in a way felt a little selfish he wanted you to himself. He stood tall in front of you contemplating his next move.Should he?. Could he? He knew he wanted to try and pursue you but he still had doubts. You blinked and gulped seeing a heated glint in his eyes that was clouded with anxiety.

"Hen-henry?" He hummed in response his heart just about jumping out of his chest as he moved in slowly noticing you leaning towards him to...Did you want him to kiss you? You looked like you wanted to kiss him... Should he let you kiss him first? Or was he reading this all wrong. Fuck. He couldn't take it his nerves and thoughts buzzing he panicked momentarily and just went for it. Dipping his head quickly he connected his lips to yours tilting his head he moved closer shuffling his feet forward. It took you a few seconds to realize what he was doing but when the shock finally disappeared you moaned into him moving to cup the back of his neck. He grunted pulling back for air taking one large gulp then wrapped himself around you pinning you to between himself and the table, clutching you to his front cradling you against him as you accepted him into your mouth groaning as he was quick to explore, dragging your tongue to dance around his moaning and teasing you letting his hands fall to cup your bottom grabbing the full cheeks rolling them around lightly then pulled back from your mouth. He looked down through half lidded eyes and smiled seeing your dazed expression.

"Well...That was, a long time coming and definitely worth the wait...Hopefully i wont have to wait as long for the next one?" you glowed red at that and wriggled a little freezing noticing he still had a firm grip on your ass. You nodded shyly at him.

"Y-you waited to do that?" He nodded moving his hands up from your ass to your sides smoothing his thumbs across your ribs lightly not willing to let you go for a second.

"Yes..For a long time the others were pestering me but I was shy...Wasn't sure if you'd like me or not...Didn't want to ruin our friendship..." you stuttered looking up into his sparkling eyes seeing him flustered and shy made you feel a little better

"Of course I do!...Had a crush on you for...well a long time but just like you I didn't want to rock the boat" he looked at you shocked then laughed loudly.

"Well now that we both know where we stand would you like to order in we could get your favorite?"

"You know what my favorite food is?" he tilting his head down to yours with a knowing grin taking a deep breath he started listing off a few of you favorite's.

"Of course I do, Chinese is your top sweet and sour chicken chow mein and hors d'oeuvres namely seaweed and prawn toast and Japanese is a close second wagamama's if I remember correctly , your favorite chocolate is Lindor and favorite drink of all time is apple juice" you gaped at him, he had remembered all that.

"Wow I'm impressed you listened to my nervous rambling let alone took anything from it" "I love listening to you, you get so passionate about everything you love its cute..Hard not to pay attention...what do you mean nervous?" you felt all giddy when you realized he had been paying attention as you rambled on about what you thought was random uninteresting things.

"Well I'm always a little nervous around you...I do have a crush on you." he chuckled pulling you closer pressing a sweet kiss to your lips.

"That makes two of us, any way Chinese? My treat?" you jumped up nodding at him definitely up for some take out.

"Absolutely! but I warn you I can eat...Like I EAT." he chuckled moving down to give you one more kiss then pulled away from you to grab his phone to order online.

"And we can watch Netflix" you faltered and smiled up at him impishly causing him to raise a brow.

"I-I err don't have Netflix..." he gaped at you blinking as if you had a second head

"What? how could you not- you worked for them..Have you even watched the witcher yet babe?" you flushed at the pet name...And the embarrassing truth of why you'd avoided watching the show.

"W-Well you see that err...No I haven't...Kind of avoided it to be honest.." he frowned at you, you were so excited about seeing it yet you had...Avoided it?

"Why?" you squirmed under his gaze, the blues peering down you could feel them seeing through you.

"W-Well I...It was hard I really really liked you and then you just stopped talking to me...I was upset and each time I saw you it made me worse...Like I’d been punched in the chest there was no way I was gonna get through episode one with out getting really upset so I didn't watch it..." he swore dropping his phone to the table and wrapped his arms around you tight

"Shit...I'm so so sorry love...I promise not to do that to you again! come here... I've got Netflix I will give you my log in and you can watch it ....Not when I'm around tho not too keen on watching myself much" you grinned at him as he rocked slowly with you

"Okay then deal..Is watching yourself on tv like re-watching old family videos then i take it?" he laughed pulling away nodding

"Yes almost...Maybe not as cringe tho...Now come on go get the tv on I will be in there in a second just need to order this then we can get settled and pick a film" you smiled leaving him with a quick peck then ran down the hall to the sitting room barely containing yourself as it sunk in that he liked you back and this might just be the relationship of a lifetime.

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

Hey i made the thing!

Bouncey’s Note: this is not vampire!Jaskier canon, but it is a rather interesting and very cool  headcanon written by @mynameisdoofthelizardandamspooky for that universe. 

I will be updating this au again pretty soon (along with Secrets of Midnight) so thank y’all for being so patient. I like to rotate through my aus and this one is particular favorite. 

Thank you for the submission and the fun ideas!! Hope everyone enjoys and sends a little love their way, too!

---

I can’t write romantic interactions for the life of me, but I tried my best for geraskier.

*BLOOD WARNING* *SERIOUSLY I MAY HAVE GONE OVERBOARD*

---

Geralt had been counting the days for almost a year now. It was his final year as Lord Jaskier’s “prisoner”. He did not wish to leave, but had put off discussing this with Jasker. Now it may be too late to alert the village to *not* send another soul. Besides, Lord Jaskier might not want him with the concept of new blood.

“What are you so concerned about, pet?”

Geralt looked over his shoulder. Once he might have been startled by his Lord’s sudden appearance, but he had become accustomed to it over the past years. “It- it has been almost ten years, Your Grace. And I-”

“Shit!” Lord Jaskier ducked away from the door, pulling a piece of parchment from the pile on his desk. He dipped his pen in the inkpot, and began scribbling. 

Geralt followed his Lord to the desk. “What are you writing, my Lord?”

Jaskier finished his note with a flourish. “Why, I am requesting that the alderman not send a sacrifice this year, as presumably you are staying, darling?”

“I- was thinking quite the same, my Lord, if you’ll have me.”

“Of course, pet. Though I should hope my note arrives in time, I suppose I should still be sure they have not set someone out.” Jaskier folded the note. “Now, I shall give this to one of my friends at nightfall, and hope it reaches the alderman’s hands in time.”

~

Two days later, Lord Jaskier donned his cloak as the sun set. “Though I hate to leave you, dear pet, I do not believe the potential sacrifice the village may have set out for me would appreciate a death by animal, should my note have been too late.”

Geralt reached out, pulling Jaskier back. “Be back soon, Your Grace.”

Jaskier smiled, the moon rising over the forest. “Of course, dear pet.” he planted a kiss to Geralt’s lips, then slipped away into the forest.

~

Lord Jaskier smelled the girl before he saw her. She stank of fear and blood. Her own blood, Jaskier could tell. Nobody and nothing else was near yet, so what had happened to her?

He slipped into the clearing. The girl was unconscious, hanging limp from the post where Geralt had hung all those years ago. She was covered in her own blood, and a gash on her head oozed down her face. The fire sat with just coals. 

Lord Jaskier untied the girl, lowering her to the earth. She was much younger than any the village had offered up to him previously, thirteen at most, and the scent of blood would soon attract wolves, now that the fire was out. 

“Are you awake, Miss?”

The girl’s eyes fluttered. They were unfocused, and one was stuck shut with blood. “Who are you? The monster?”

Lord Jaskier sighed. “I see alderman Olan has still disregarded the explanations requested of him. I am no more a monster than whoever did this to you.”

“Olan… bastard..” the girl lost consciousness again, slumping down.

Lord Jaskier lifted the girl, finding it much more difficult to carry an unconscious body than a conscious one. He dashed back through the forest, arriving back at the manor well before dawn. The wound on the girl’s head had been bleeding on and off, and she had not awoken again.

Geralt opened the door as he saw Lord Jaskier approaching, a limp body in his arms. “Who’s this, My Lord?”

“The supposed next ‘sacrifice’ for me. It would appear that the idiot Olan has decided to try and make her more ‘appealing’ by making her bleed profusely. Help me with her, would you?”

Geralt took the limp girl from the Viscount’s arms, carrying her to a couch. In the light of the fire, he could see the extent that she was covered in blood from various gashes all over her body.

Jaskier appeared behind him. “Not THAT couch darl- oh it’s too late now. Here.” He shoved a soaked cloth and bowl of water into Geralt’s hands. “Clean her up, would you dear?” he slipped back into the shadows, presumably to find bandages somewhere.

Geralt rolled up his sleeves, not that it would do much good for the garment at this point, and began to wipe blood from the girl’s head, as most of the other wounds seemed to have scabbed over already. There was one particularly horrid slice across her forehead and one side of her head, this being the one that was still oozing blood. He would have to cut her hair to get that one clean properly. 

Jaskier appeared beside him again, arms full of bandages. He pulled a second cloth from the pile and began cleaning the girl’s hair.

“My Lord, what are you doing?”

“Well I am quite sure we will need to cut some of it off, and having it NOT caked in blood seems a good idea to me.”

Geralt nodded, returning to his work on cleaning the girl’s face.

~

The sun rose as the vampire and human finished bandaging the girl. Now that she was not so covered in blood, she had ashy-blonde hair. She had not yet woken, which was probably a good thing, considering she would be in a lot of pain when she did. 

Now that the two had a break and a chance to actually look at each other, Lord Jaskier began to laugh. “You may have been only a butcher’s apprentice back in the village, but you certainly look the part now!”

Geralt looked down at himself, hands and arms and shirt covered in semi-dried blood. He looked up at his lover and chuckled. “And you certainly look the part of a bloodthirsty monster, Your Grace.” Jaskier’s arms were also coated in semi-dried blood, and his shirt was much the worse for wear in terms of cleanliness. The couch and carpet next to it were in similar condition. 

A groan from the couch alerted the two to their guest’s awakening. The girl sat up, raising a hand stiffly to her head and new haircut. “Ga~ah. Why does everything hurt?” one eye cracked open, the other being swollen shut. “Who are you?”

Jaskier dipped into a small, flourishing bow. “Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove. Who might you be? I like to know who I have in my company.”

The girl narrowed her open eye, as much as it could be narrowed without closing. “Uh.. Cirilla. Most call me Ciri. Why… are you covered in blood?”

Geralt grunted. “It would appear to be yours.”

Ciri’s head turned to look at Geralt. “You’re alive?”

“So it seems.”

Ciri huffed. “Well then Olan is even more of a bastard.”

“How so?”

“Idiot told me you were dead, so ‘it doesn’t matter what happens before the monster takes you’.”

Jaskier’s eyes narrowed. “That fucking- Geralt I don’t suppose you remember how to use a blade? I believe it’s about time I visited your village again.”

Cirilla grinned. “If you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking, Viscount, you had better wait for me. I want a stab at him too, seeing as he did this to me.”

Geralt looked at her sidelong. “You’re quick. Don’t suppose you can actually use a blade to boot?”

Ciri hissed as she swung her legs over the side of the couch. “Once I can move properly? Sure.” she stood, wobbling a bit. She was about four and a half feet tall and skinny. 

Jaskier clapped his hands. “Wonderful, now I believe it’s time for breakfast.” he looked down at his bloody hands. “No. First, we are cleaning this mess.” 

[demisexualgeralt]

A gift for @jaskierbatey for @thewitchersecretsanta. I tried to fit as much of your wish list in as I could. Happy holidays, and I hope you enjoy!!!

--

Geralt walked into the saloon and let the giant centipede’s mandible thud loudly on the floor. The chatter in the room stopped, except for the soft sounds of banjo strings, which belonged to a young man who either had a death wish or simply couldn’t take a hint. Regardless, the saloon owner rushed over to inspect Geralt’s offering.

“There were three of them,” Geralt grunted. “Your land should be fine now. No more disappearances.”

“And...the missing?”

“Their bodies are there. You can do with them what you wish. Though I wouldn’t send those with a weak stomach. Sorry.”

The man nodded solemnly and pulled a coin purse from his side. Geralt took it from him and counted out the coins carefully, ensuring the amount was all they’d agreed on. When he determined it was satisfactory, he nodded and turned on his heel. The sooner he could find an inn and get centipede guts off of him, the better. 

The next day, he woke early and prepared to get back on the road. A witcher’s life was certainly not a sedentary one, and with so many people traveling West and fucking up the natural wildlife, it had become unusually lucrative. People were desperate and while Geralt didn’t normally like to capitalize on those too down on their luck, he was happy to take the coin of those whose own greed led them to do stupid things like building a town next to the burrowing grounds of a bunch of giant centipedes.

He finished getting Roach ready and was leading her out of the stable when he heard the sound of footsteps behind him. He tensed and turned, wanting to see what unfortunate soul decided to try and rob a witcher.

“Oh! That...is a big sword. I’d ask if you were happy to see me, but, ah, you don’t seem the type to buy into that kind of humor.”

“Hmm.”

“Who am I, I hear you asking! My name is Jaskier and-”

“Don’t care. Fuck off.”

He started to walk away, but heard determined footsteps behind. “You should care. I feel if we put our talents together, we could both come away very rich.”

“Not interested.”

“You seemed very interested in that coin purse earlier.”

Geralt rolled his eyes and turned to face the man. “What I’m interested in is getting paid to do my job. Not whatever hare brained scheme you’ve cooked up. I kill monsters. I get coin. There’s nothing you can do to help with that.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, witcher. See, I have acquired a good deal of stories in my time, and witchers are full of stories. But people don’t like witchers, do they?”

“If this is what being liked gets me, I’ll take my chances.”

Undaunted, the man continued. “I could help you! Spread word of your tales, sing your praises. Increase your coin. You think you got a good deal from that saloon owner? There’s dozens out there like him, just as stupid, who would pay double that for the same job, if only they had a little nudge from yours truly.”

Geralt scoffed. “You’re how old? What would you know about people?”

“Quite a lot, thank you very much! And I’m 19. But I listen. People aren’t that difficult to read when you learn how to listen.”

“And you do?” Geralt asked, leaning against the side of the stall.

“I have to. It’s part of the trade.”

“Hmm.” Geralt eyed him, taking in this strange man in front of him. Eventually, he turned back to Roach. “Fine. Come along. It’s your funeral.”

--

Months passed and somehow, it was not Jaskier’s funeral. Geralt assumed he would get tired of walking, of not having a warm bed at night, of only having Geralt for company, but some stubbornness must have edged out his discomfort. And Geralt knew he was uncomfortable- he complained constantly, but each night, he settled around the campfire, playing softly while rabbit or squirrel cooked over the fire and listened while Geralt told his stories in halting, sporadic thoughts. 

He hated to admit it, but it was nice, having someone to share the road with. Most of the time.

Whenever they traveled into town, however, he was reminded of what an absolute pain Jaskier could be. All he wanted was a drink before heading back to the inn they were staying at and preparing for the next day’s hunt. Instead, he was treated to the sight of Jaskier making himself at home next to a group of women close to the bar. It shouldn’t bother him. It didn’t bother him. It was Jaskier’s job to ingratiate himself to whoever came along, charm them. Jaskier told him time and time again that what he had with those people was never personal, strictly business.

It was easier, then, to understand that what he and Jaskier had was also strictly business. It shouldn’t bother him. And yet, every time he saw Jaskier spend the night with another, only to return triumphant with an expensive trinket or swiped bundle of coins, he felt an ache deep in his bones.

It hurt, to be just another transaction. A means to an end. He might not pay Jaskier, or afford him any trinkets to sell or hoard, but he provided shelter, food, companionship between beds. That was all he would ever be.

He made his way over to the bar, grunting his assent when the barkeep offered him a drink. As she handed it to him, she leaned her elbow on the counter and looked at him.

“Drowning your sorrows over something in particular, witcher?”

“I’m drinking alone.”

She snorted and he glowered. Not many humans were willing to provoke him (except Jaskier), but she had clearly seen enough rough folk to not be cowed by him.  “I can see that.”

“Hmm,” he intoned, hoping she would take the hint and end the conversation there. Unperturbed though, she pressed on.

“Seems you don’t have to. That one keeps glancing at you.” She inclined her head slightly and he could see that she was referring to Jaskier. He rolled his eyes.

“He’s a friend.”

“Just a friend?”

“Mmm.”

She nodded slowly. “See, I’d believe that. But I’ve tried to make enough men jealous myself to know the look.”

“Hmm.”

She clicked her tongue. “Not the chatty type. I get it. But think about what I said.” She turned back to other patrons and left Geralt to ruminate on what she’d said. 

Eventually, the night wore on and he decided it was time to take his leave, before the truly unruly patrons started to act up. He glanced back at Jaskier, who gave him a smile before turning back to his latest conquests. Satisfied that he would be fine until morning, he headed back to the inn to try and get some rest.

--

He did not, in fact, get the sleep he was looking for, but instead sat and restlessly tried to avoid thinking about the barkeep’s words. There was no reason for Jaskier to try and make him jealous. If he wanted Geralt, he had plenty of opportunities when they were alone to make a move. He wasn’t shy about going after what he wanted. Geralt thought himself in circles, but they all led to the same conclusion. 

Sometime before the sun rose, he heard Jaskier fumble in. “Geralt? Are you awake?”

“I am now,” he grumbled, despite not actually being asleep.

“Good, good. Do you want to see what I got?”

“No.”

“Wonderful.” 

He sat heavily at the edge of Geralt’s bed, shoving his feet aside to make room. He smacked Geralt’s leg until he looked at him, practically punching him in his fervor to show Geralt the ring on his finger.

“Are congratulations in order?”

“No, you ass. But it is pretty, isn’t it?” Jaskier looked down to admire it. It was simple, adorned with a modestly sized opal.

Geralt sighed. “Stealing people’s weddings rings seems like a new low, even for you.”

Jaskier scoffed. “I didn’t steal them! I can’t help it that people like to give me nice things. Besides, if you’re mean to me, I won’t give you your present. Close your eyes.”

Geralt did so against his best judgement and felt as Jaskier put something small in his hand.

“Okay. Open.”

He opened his eyes and found a small gold band in the center of his palm.

Jaskier’s eyes shone. “Just think. If we wear them and act like we just got married, they might give us a free room! Or...a room upgrade at least. It’s great, right?”

Geralt swallowed.

“Or…” Jaskier backtracked. “We could melt it down? I’m sure we’d get money for the gold?”

“Fine. Whatever you want to do.”

“Geralt? Did I...offend you?” He bit his lip. “Look, I know you would never actually marry me. This is just...a con. But, if even the thought of it offends you, I’ll...I won’t bring it up again.”

“It’s fine.”

Jaskier tapped nervously on his thighs. “Geralt, please. I don’t want this to get in the way of our friendship. If you want me to go…”

“I don’t.”

“Okay. Well, that’s a relief. Then why won’t you look at me?”

Geralt sighed. He wasn’t like Jaskier, couldn’t say what he wanted to say and make it all fit together somehow. His words were stilted, difficult.

“I don’t want to pretend.”

“I already told you, Geralt, we don’t have to do that if you don’t-”

Geralt moved forward to kiss Jaskier, who just let out a surprised ‘oh’ against his mouth. He didn’t pull away though, relaxing into Geralt’s touch. After a moment, he pulled away, looking for something he couldn’t name in Jaskier’s eyes. Acceptance? Joy?

“That...yeah. We can...you want to? With me?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be the wordsmith?”

Jaskier glowered at him. “The man I’ve been hopelessly in love with for months just kissed me. Forgive me for not recovering immediately.”

“You- months?”

“You didn’t know? Geralt, I’ve been making moves for months? You really didn’t notice?”

“...no.”

Jaskier huffed a laugh. “Well. Then let me make myself abundantly clear. I like you. I would like to do this and other things with you in the future. If you would like.”

“I would...like. That.”

“Perfect,” Jaskier said, leaning in to capture Geralt’s lips again. 

After a while, Jaskier lay on Geralt’s chest, and Geralt felt the first threads of sleep calling him. Before he could though, he heard Jaskier speak up again.

“So, does this mean that we can do the marriage con?”

“Go to sleep, Jaskier.”

“Fiiiiiiine.”

[queenxxxsupreme]

Heyo! So I heard that you’d write for Regis and I thought of something: what about Regis being with a really curious Fem! Reader and she likes to casually ask questions about being a vampire? Stuff like “do different types of blood taste different to you?” “Is it difficult to eat some foods because of your sharp teeth?” Or even “what was the dumbest or craziest thing you did when you were young and realized that you can pretty much do anything because you’re immortal?” Only if you want to tho!❤️

A/N: OMG SEND MORE REGIS FLUFF

You brushed your fingers over the silky material on your stomach. You wore a new chemise, one you’d bought a shop in town earlier in the day. It was soft pink with pretty lace trim around the hem. 

You moved through your home, humming a quiet tune as you pushed the door to your bedroom open.

Unsurprisingly, Regis didn’t acknowledge that you had entered the room. He didn’t do it on purpose, but sometimes he became so enveloped in a book or whatever it was that had his attention that he just didn’t realize you were there. 

The Higher Vampire sat on his side of the bed against the headboard, ankles crossed as he held a book in his hands. 

You closed the door, making sure the click was loud enough to startle him. He lifted his head, smiling at the sight of you. 

“Hello, darling. Is that a new nightgown?”

“I bought it earlier today.” You spun lightly on your toes, showing off the cute chemise. “Do you like it?”

“Of course I do. Pink is a fantastic color on you. Very radiant and alluring.”

You smiled, climbing up onto the bed. You moved his hands, taking the book from him and placing it aside so you could rest your head in his lap. 

Regis placed his hand on your head, gently brushing his fingers through your hair. Using his free hand, he picked up his book to carry on reading.

“Regis?”

“Yes, my love?”

“Does having sharp teeth make eating difficult? Eating human food?”

Regis chuckled a little from deep within his chest. 

“No, darling. I can enjoy human foods just as much as you.”

“Oh, okay.” You closed your eyes, nuzzling your cheek against his thigh a little. “Do vampires like human food?”

“Well that’s quite a silly question. You’ve seen me eat human food plenty of times, my love.”

“Yes, but I wasn’t sure if you did it to be respectful or because it’s just a human habit you’ve picked up.”

“I like human foods.” He chuckled softly. “Well, some human foods.”

You turned over on to your back so you could look up at him. You frowned when you realized he had that damned book again.

“Regis.”

“Yes, my love?” He raised his brows but didn’t look away from the book. 

You reached up to grab it but he pulled away, holding it just out of your reach. 

“Regis, pay attention to me!” You whined softly.

“I am, darling.” He finally looked down at you, placing one hand on your cheek. “You forget that I am an excellent multitasker.”

“I know you are, love, but this is one of those rare nights I get with you.” You pouted just a little, trying to look more sad than you really were. “Dettlaff isn’t here. Geralt and his brothers are finally gone, not that I dislike their company. But I finally get you all to myself.”

Regis closed the book and put it aside, bringing his hand down to your stomach. 

“You have my complete and undivided attention.”

You smiled, content that you’d won.

“Do different types of blood taste different to you?” You asked him, eyes falling to his lips. 

“Each individual has their own…. taste. But I don’t believe the taste correlates with blood types. More or less, it has to do with what an individual consumes.”

“Hmm.” You hummed, reaching up to caress his cheek. Your fingers were warm against his skin, tender and careful. You trailed along his jaw to his chin, then up to his lips. “Do vampires mate for life?”

“If one is lucky enough.” He kissed the pad of your index finger. 

“Are mates just…. just other vampires?” You asked, timid and hesitant. 

He took your hand, pulling it from his face so he could hold you, lacing your fingers between his. 

“Depends. I’ve heard of a few who found their mates in humans, but it is a rarity. Why do you ask?”

“Just curious.” You sat up, brushing your hair over one shoulder. “Do you lose your teeth when you are young? Like human children do?”

“No.” Regis shook his head softly, watching you turn around to face him. “We are born with all of our teeth which we keep throughout our lives.”

“Have you ever lost a tooth?”

“Not that I recall, no. But if I were to lose one, I’d imagine it would grow back, regenerate just as an arm or a finger would.”

You clambered into his lap, tucking your knees beneath his arms so you could sit comfortably without completely wrapping your legs around him. 

“Geralt always mentioned that you were a punk when you were younger.”

Regis chuckled.

“Ah, yes.”

“What does that mean? What did you do?” You brought your hands to his shoulders then trailed up to his cheeks. 

“If you would like to know, then I will tell you. I want to keep nothing from you.” Regis took your hands from his face once more, feeling more comfortable holding your hands. “But my past is nothing I am proud of.”

“Nor is mine.” You looked up at him through your lashes. “I think the best people come from difficult pasts.”

He said nothing, admiring the way your eyes shined just a little from the candlelight. 

“But we don’t have to talk about it. I don’t want to talk about anything upsetting tonight, not when we have the house to ourselves.” You leaned forward to steal a kiss from him, soft and chaste. “I have more questions.”

“Of course you do.” Regis watched you lay back along his legs. He smiled at the sight of you. It was clear you were somewhat bored. He was more than happy to keep you occupied with answering whatever questions your mind could create. 

“Do you remember everything? Everything that’s ever happened to you? Or just important things?”

“I could probably remember everything if I were to try to keep all of that information in my head. But things get…. fuzzy when there is too much up there.” He tapped his temple and then brought his hands to rest on the outside of your thighs. 

You shivered at how cold he was to the touch. 

“I try to remember only the important things.”

“Like what?” Your eyes trailed all across the ceiling, searching for something to study. 

“Like…. When I met my friends. Geralt and Dettlaff. Jaskier….”

“Me?” You lifted your head to look at him.

“Oh, I could never forget the first time I laid eyes on the most beautiful and stunning being I have ever come across.” He took your hands and pulled you back up into a sitting position, wrapping his arms around you.

You slipped your arms around his neck, nuzzling your nose into his collarbone. His hugs were always the best, always warm and comforting, and they made you feel safe. 

“When did you first see me?” You asked, your voice quiet.

“At the library in Oxenfurt. You were sitting on the floor between two bookshelves with dozens of books around you.”

“I couldn’t pick which ones I wanted.” You smiled shyly.

“You looked absolutely breathtaking.”

“You came over and asked me if I needed help finding the right book. So generous of you.” 

His chest vibrated with a chuckle. 

“I expected to find fiction books among your piles, but they were all nonfiction ranging from medical texts to things about monsters and creatures that live all across the Continent.”

“I like learning.” You lifted your head from his collarbone to kiss his neck. “I like knowing more than others. That way when obnoxious men try to act like they know more than me, I can prove them wrong and make them look like fools.”

“That’s my girl.” Regis rubbed your back and kissed your head. “Your presence then had an effect on me - just as it does now. My very being was influenced by you, just as the tide is influenced by the moon.”

“You’re such a charmer.” You leaned back, still draping your arms around his neck. “I’m already yours, Regis. You don’t need to woo me.”

“Woo you?” He repeated, a playful grin crossing his lips. “My darling, I’m not wooing you. I am simply telling you of the effect you have on me.”

Your eyes fluttered shut as he leaned in to kiss your neck. 

“Regis?”

“Yes, my love?” His breath was warm against your neck, making a shiver travel along your spine. 

“Do you believe you’ve ever met your mate?”

Regis pulled away from you, eyes finding yours. His brows furrowed together softly. 

You couldn’t hold his gaze for long, taking his silence as your answer. 

Your chin fell to your chest, eyes closing as you cursed at yourself for bringing it up.

But Regis wouldn’t let you hang your head for long. His index and middle fingers hooked beneath your chin, tilting your head up and making you look at him. 

“I know I have.” He murmured, tender and sweet. “And she is the one I have the privilege of sharing a bed with, of calling my own.”

Your heart raced inside your ribs and butterflies fluttered in your stomach.

“Tell me more about her.”

He grinned, leaning forward to kiss your cheek. 

“She has a dazzling smile, one that always steals my breath. And she’s brilliant. One of the smartest people I’ve ever met in my entire life.”

“Oh, you are too sweet.” You couldn’t hide the blush that rose to your cheeks. “I’m sure she thinks the world of you.”

Regis was quiet for a few moments, eyes staying on you. 

“I know she does. I can see it in her eyes when she looks at me.”

Your lips parted and you smiled. 

“Good.” You kissed his lips once more. “Because you’re too good a man for her to let you think otherwise.”

Taglist: @pressedinthepages @MishaFaye  @whitewolfandthefox @ayamenimthiriel @c-a-v-a-l-r-y @wolfyland07  @belalugosisdead @persephonehemingway @romancebibliophilia @keira-hulmaster @dinonuggs69 @greatestauthorofmygeneration @shadow-hunters-lover @dancingwith-thesunflowers @tedi-fach-las @thecomfortofoldstorries @raspberrydreamclouds @natkowaa @disasteren @weathervanes-my-oneandlonely @onlyhenrys @crazybutconfidentaf @wackylurker @criminaly-supernatural  @Magpie343 @permanently-exhausted-witcher @hina-chans-stuff @the-space-between-heartbeats @havenoffandoms @carriebee1 @ger-bearofrivia @naominami @thefirelordm @writingawaymylife @reaganjenelle @badassspaceprincess @theawkwardpedestrian @scarlettwitcher @runawayolives @badassspaceprincess @just-a-sad-donut @summersong69 @an--actual--human--disaster @she-wolfoftheinquisition

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Field of Poppies Part 17

Summary: After being apart for six years, childhood friends Tommy and Amelia reunite under odd circumstances. Tommy is an outspoken young man and Amelia is pregnant and out on the streets. The bond of family can be unbreakable but it is tested often. Especially when Europe descends into war.

Part 17: Amelia turns to faith for help, Danny Owens gets his nickname in the trenches

            Max found Polly in the betting shop one morning. “Auntie Pol, mummy’s gotten sick again.”

            “It’s okay, love. It’s natural.” Polly assured the little boy. “Come sit with me, I’m sure she’ll be down in a moment.”

            “’Cause of the baby?” He asked, climbing up onto Polly’s lap as she worked in her office.

            “Yes, darling. But she’ll be alright.”

            They had told Max about the baby a little while after they got Tommy’s letter back. Though it was bittersweet, Tommy remarked that he was happy and hoped that he would be home soon. Though he didn’t give false hope about being there in time for the birth. At that point in Amelia’s pregnancy, everyone had given up hope on that happening. Especially as more news about the war hit the homefront. And more men were starting to come back.

            It was horrifying. Men burned, deformed, missing limbs. Their stories started to circulate around Birmingham, the things they’d seen. The things they’d done, what others had done. The horrors they’d witnessed. Knowing the Shelby boys were in the middle of all of that, made Amelia sick to her stomach. She began to go to church with Polly every week. But it never seemed to be enough, so she started to go multiple times a week, sometimes every morning. Even when there was no service, she would go and sit in the empty church and pray.

            She was never particularly religious. Her parents seemed indifferent to the church, as they were more focused on succeeding in life. They never saw prayer or submission to God as a way to move up in the world.

            Amelia felt almost guilty that she was trying to use religion. Trying to comfort herself with prayers to a God she never really believed in. But at that point, she felt so helpless that she needed to do something.

            The priest of the church began to recognize her as she went to church more often. He offered to sit with her for company.

            At first, Amelia just agreed to let him sit with her. Then, she began to tell him about her fears and her doubts.

            Telling a man of the cloth about her lack of faith was a bit funny to her. But Father Carr didn’t seem to mind.   

            “Sometimes I think that it’s all just a cruel joke,” Amelia admitted one day. Max was with Martha and the betting shop was quiet, so she took the free time to visit the church. “To take Tommy away from me while I’m pregnant.”

            “Some things are hard to explain. We ask why God would allow for war to happen. We ask why he allows hardship in our lives. It is beyond our knowledge. Sometimes, religion doesn’t have all the answers like some people think.”

            Amelia looked up at the stained-glass windows that allowed some of the dim light to come in. The particles of light mixed with the hazy smoke from the candles lit at the altar. “I just want him to come home to me.”

~~~~~~~~~~ 

            Danny Owens was the first in the Small Heath group to get seriously injured. While out of the tunnels, in one of the trenches, he was hit by a piece of an artillery shell.

            “For fuck’s sake, if you’re gonna get injured, don’t get hit in the neck,” Arthur said as he held a shirt to Danny’s wound right at the base of his neck.

            “It just grazed me,” Danny replied, trying his best to stay calm and breathe.

            “It’ll be okay.” John kept him propped up so he wouldn’t bleed to death.

            They all learned early on that no one liked tunnelers. They were seen as a danger if they were nearby. So, no one liked to see them in the trenches. That meant they had to take care of themselves and each other.

            “Hold ‘im still,” Jeremiah commanded as he examined the wound, dowsing it in alcohol.

            Danny let out a scream through his gritted teeth as he fought John and Arthur’s hold.

            “No more getting hit with whizz-bangs, Danny,” Tommy commanded, holding Danny’s feet down so he didn’t kick anyone.

            “Yeah, or else we’ll start calling ya that.” John grinned.

            The men chuckled, even getting a bit of a smile from Danny. “Alright.”  

~~~~~~~~~~ 

            It became clear after the first trimester, that this pregnancy would not be as easy as Max’s had been. Amelia began to have spells of dizziness and nausea that could last for days. Polly said it was because of stress, so she tried her best to keep the woman calm and at ease. But there was nothing she could do about the boys still being over in France.

            Everyone was frightened, even Amelia although she wouldn’t admit it. She felt afraid that she was failing her second child before they were even born.

            Max was starting to pick up on the anxiety around his mother and became very clingy to her. He would wail and cry if she was even in the next room. She couldn’t leave him for more than half an hour before he would panic. He began to sleep in her bed, terrified she would disappear in the middle of the night.

            “He doesn’t want you to go anywhere.” Polly surmised one afternoon when Amelia could finally get the young boy to go down for a nap. “He remembers Tommy leaving so he doesn’t want you to leave either.”

            Amelia felt so helpless. She couldn’t even comfort her own child because the world was in such chaos.

            Polly had to stop her from reading the news or listening to the radio. She wrote to Tommy telling him to keep his letters to his wife light. She said Amelia couldn’t handle any bad news.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~

            On Max’s sixth birthday, Amelia tried her best to keep everything together. She threw together a party. Polly closed the shop for the day and all their friends and family gathered. Well, the friends and family that were still there and not serving overseas.

            Amelia bought toys for Max, some she signed ‘daddy’, just so her son felt like Tommy was near. He had already sent a letter wishing his son a happy birthday and wishing he could be there to celebrate. Max seemed sad his father couldn’t come to attend the party, but it wasn’t any different to any ordinary day. It had been over a year since the Shelby boys had left. Next March would mark two years.

            On the morning of the party, Amelia found Max looking at a picture of Tommy in his uniform.

            “You alright, love?” She asked softly. “Are you excited for your birthday?”

            “Yeah.” He replied quietly, his mind off wandering.

            “What are you doing with daddy’s picture?” She wondered.

            “Dunno. Just looking.” He shrugged, not looking away. “Don’t wanna forget what he looks like.”

            Amelia couldn’t shake that feeling of heartache the rest of the day. Even during the festivities and among familiar faces. She felt utterly alone.

            After Max had opened all his gifts, everyone was sitting in the parlor enjoying each other’s company. Amelia felt distant, standing near the couch, half-listening to the conversations around her.

            Then, she picked up on a conversation Charlie was having with one of the Strong men who had come to celebrate with them.

            “Yeah, right on Farringdon. Those fuckers.” Charlie muttered. “Twenty-two people dead. Only a matter of time they set their sights on Birmingham.”

            “For fuck’s sake.” The other man shook his head. “Thought this was a war among countries, not a war on the innocents. They wanna bomb each other, go ahead, but they can’t be fucking bombing regular people like us.”

            Without having much access to the news under Polly’s advice, Amelia hadn’t heard of the bombings or attempted bombings on British soil. Suddenly, shock and panic overtook her entire body. It felt like her heart stopped completely and her vision went black.

            Luckily, Charlie was able to catch the pregnant woman before she hit her head on the coffee table. The party ceased the fun and immediately rushed to Amelia’s aid. Polly shoved to the front and checked on her.

            “Call a doctor!” She shouted when she saw Amelia’s pale face.

            Max began to cry for his mum as Ada comforted her nephew best she could.

            Permanent Tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @biba3434 @kimmietea @karmezii @enrapturedbythemoon @vampgirl1997 @tarafaithe @evelynshelby

Tag list: @shelbyblinded

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[jaskiersvalley]

Look I knew from things my friend reblogged that you have A Gift but now I'm following you and crying every time you post because it is ALWAYS top quality and I am but a poor little goblin with Feelings. You are my favorite and I love you. (also "oh what a hairy valley it is" is fucking hilarious I laugh every time I read it)

You are my new favourite and I love you too! Especially because you find “oh what a hairy valley it is” funny. As thanks, I hope you like a bit of a twist on the Witcher Wolf Pack and their Bard in a modern setting.

Street life was harsh but the wolves had learned how to play the game over the decades. Witchers had become nothing more than myths and they had died out. Or rather, they faded from visible existence and found ways to get with the times. But nobody really wanted grizzly, musclebound men with facial scars so the wolves of Kaer Morhen were left behind by society. It wasn’t like they could get paperwork and ID needed for work and rent, so they lived on the fringes, accepted the ‘help’ of a sorcerer. It wasn’t much better, living on the streets as wolves most idiots mistook for large dogs. But at least they could slink around relatively undisturbed. They could shift forms as they needed but most of the time, they remained four legged.

They had a whole system worked out, honourable as much as thieves could be. Because they needed to steal, needed food and money to survive. The back alley that they’d pulled blankets and cardboard boxes to had become home. But they couldn’t live off things they fished out of the dumpster all the time. It was how they ended up with a range of schemes and ploys.

Easiest was the sad, scared puppy game. It was one that Lambert excelled at, looking vulnerable. If he rolled in a puddle first, he could look exceptionally pitiful. His scars showed up the least too and, as the youngest, he often got the most response. Some days he would hang around outside a food shop and whimper at those going in. The more generous humans would emerge with their shopping plus a little something for him. When something was thrown his way, Lambert would snatch it out of the air and run, hide the stash until he could haul his trophies home to share.

More elaborate was the teamwork of Vesemir and Eskel. They didn’t pull it off often because it was much more dangerous for them both. At some traffic lights where cars were slowing down, Eskel would step in front of a car and get clipped. He’d perfected the art of just getting a glancing bruise on his shoulder but it sounded impressive enough. Once the car stopped, Vesemir, in his grizzled old glory, would fling himself in front of the car with a whimpering howl. That usually got everyone’s attention, the poor old dog, shaking and quivering on the floor. It was enough of a distraction for Eskel to shift to human form and dive into the car, pulling anything of value out. They had to be so careful, not taking anything from those who obviously were in need. That was on top of the constant worry that Eskel could actually get hurt or Vesemir would get carted off to the pound. But the few times they did it, they often got enough things to pawn or, once, a shopping bag full of party food.

Geralt was too bulky to look sad in front of a shop, he got chased with a broom more often than not. He also didn’t have Eskel’s light fingers to steal from cars or Vesemir’s gravitas to look convincingly injured. What he could do though was pickpocket and steal bags. It was so easy to walk pad through a square, a stray dog nobody paid attention to. A snout in a passing pocket resulted in a mouthful of wallet. And the times someone put a bag down to look at their phone or, rarely, to pet him, he could pick up the bag and trot off without much fuss. The other thing Geralt did was trail buskers. He learned about them, knew those who were busking for fun and those who needed the coins tossed at them. Those who did it for a hobby, Geralt had no qualms about ambling up to and snuffling their things. It usually earned him a pat on the head and a laugh. It meant he could curl up with whoever it was playing and, at the end of their stint, Geralt could snuffled a little more under the pretence of curiosity. Nobody ever thought to look in his mouth to find the coins they could have sworn were there.

It was a great ploy until a new busker turned up. Geralt couldn’t get a read on him. The man looked and acted like a peacock but he smelled tired and hurting. Before Geralt could even approach him to investigate, the man was setting his instrument to the side and reaching out in invitation for Geralt to join him.

“You might need a bit of rest.” The man said and pulled a water bottle from his pack. Shoving his handwritten sign of gratitude from the plastic container, it was filled up with water instead. “It’s a warm day, I doubt there are puddles around for you.”

It turned out, the man chattered a lot when he wasn’t playing. He was called Jaskier, had no real family to speak of and loved singing. There was an art to speaking a lot without saying much and Geralt knew Jaskier was a master. In the evening, when Jaskier packed up, Geralt couldn’t bring himself to take any of his coin.

“If you’re ever in the area, you’ll always have a blanket to rest on with me,” Jaskier promised and waved to Geralt. It was only then that Geralt realised that not once did Jaskier touch him.

Once a week, Geralt sought Jaskier out. It was oddly relaxing and on his third visit, Geralt found he had actually fallen into a deep sleep, trusting this stranger to keep him protected. Of course, the others teased him about it relentlessly. Late at night when they were all sprawled in their alley with a rare treat of beer Eskel had managed to snag, they laughed about Geralt’s crush.

“Fine. You go see if you can do better,” he grumbled.

From then on, the wolves took turns and each came back suitably cowed. Eskel had taken the first chance to go see Jaskier for himself. He’d come back subdued and quiet. “He told be about his White Wolf,” he’d said. “How I must be his brother because I’m just as handsome.”

There was nothing handsome about Eskel, or so he thought. His scarring in wolf and human form had his lip pulled up and, as a wolf, he looked like he was continually snarling, teeth bared.

“He wasn’t scared,” Eskel whispered in wonder.

Unable to believe it all, Lambert went to see Jaskier next. He only came back late at night and refused to say anything. It was only later the next night that he whispered to Eskel that he’d tried to goad Jaskier into hurting him, to prove a point. And he got belly rubs instead. Which were a lot nicer than anything Lambert had experienced in a long time, so he had to slink off and think for a few hours before returning home.

Vesemir still had his doubts. His three pups might have been taken in by the singing stranger but he was suspicious. Determined to get to the bottom of their infatuation, Vesemir set out to spy on Jaskier. It didn’t go as well as planned because he was spotted and beckoned over. Even worse, there were freshly bought treats in Jaskier’s pocket, coming out to appease him.

“You look like you could be their father,” Jaskier prattled, handing over another treat. “The same noble, ancient look they’ve got. Living on the streets is no easy feat and I imagine you’ve done it your whole lives. But your pack seem wonderful. You ought to be proud of your boys.”

Vesemir would have thought it all some great, cunning plan were it not for the fact that he could smell the street on Jaskier. Obviously he’d been sleeping in hostels or the like until recently. And yet there he was with the best treats he could afford for a bunch of stray dogs who he knew to be wolves.

From then on, Jaskier enjoyed the company of a wolf beside him for four of the seven days of the week. Geralt slept on the blanket, running and eating in his sleep. By contrast, Lambert was needy, demanding attention and petting, constantly by Jaskier’s feet. Eskel liked to lie calmly and watch, sometimes he’d howl along and get laughs. Occasionally trotting off and coming back with a snack or a drink for them, clutched carefully in his mouth. The first time he presented Jaskier with a sandwich, he man had looked both scandalised and then blissed out as he bit into it like he was starving. Vesemir was by far the calmest, he watched Jaskier rather than the crowds around them, keeping track of how things changed.

“He sleeps on the streets,” he told his pups one night. “I worry for him.”

They couldn’t find Jaskier though, it was a large city and there were a lot of places to hide. By pure luck, they were settling down into a tangle of limbs, tails and fur when they heard voices.

“Just hand it over and you’ll live.” A menacing voice growled.

“I can’t give you that. It’s how I make what little money I have. I’ve already offered you everything I can!” That was definitely Jaskier.

“Along these parts, our word is law. You’ve not paid your dues and now we’re raising fees.”

There was the soft thump of someone being struck and the smell of blood. The wolves were up on their feet as one, quietly padding closer to investigate. Jaskier was on his knees, guitar behind him along with his usual pack which looked like it had been rifled through already. Opposite him were three men, one of them with a nail studded baseball bat.

“I think you need to be taught a lesson,” the man snarled and raised the bat. It arced through the air and there was the sound of it striking flesh and a sharp whine of a wolf in pain rang through the alley.

“What the fuck?”

Geralt was laid flat on the floor and panting, white fur staining red. The other three wolves were snapping and growling at the attackers while Jaskier knelt and watched in awe. Lambert jumped first, jaw latching around the wrist holding the bat and shaking his head.

In two minutes, the attackers were running, bleeding and cursing and the alley was silent save for the panting of the wolves. Eskel and Vesemir shared a look as they approached Geralt. They shifted, ignoring the gasp of surprise from Jaskier.

“You need to shift, pup,” Vesemir stroked over Geralt’s head. “Let us get a better look.”

It took a moment longer but Geralt was human once again and wheezing.

“Fuck,” he gasped, hands clenched in fists.

“Let them sort it,” Lambert murmured from just behind Jaskier, making him jump. “It’ll be okay. Geralt’s just a drama queen.”

“A drama queen with broken ribs,” Eskel grumbled. “At least the nails didn’t puncture his lung.”

In all of that, Jaskier was quiet and surprisingly unafraid. Puzzled, most definitely but he didn’t panic or run.

“Will he be okay?” he asked, soft and worried.

“He’s a strong one, survived a lot worse.” The reassurance from Vesemir lifted a little of the tension. “Why aren’t you running and screaming?”

“Why should I? You saved my life and you’re the wolves I’ve known for weeks now. It’s nice that you can talk back now.”

That seemed to settle matters somehow. And the wolves got a fourth act in their repertoire. Now, Jaskier sang and busked with the protection of a wolf by his side at all times. And, when he returned back to the alley, he always shared his bounty with the others.

“And when I get famous, you’re all coming with me. We’ll tour the world together,” he promised each night from the centre of the wolf pile. It usually earned at least one tail thump or a chuffed out wolf-y laugh. The wolves might have indulged him in such fantasies but they were the ones who had to eat their words. A talent scout did indeed pick Jaskier up. Along with his four wolves who became his bodyguards.

Part 2 here.

[plus-size-reader]

The White Wolf

Geralt of Rivia x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1412 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Going to the ball of Cintra with jaskier and Geralt

———————————————————————————————————

“Jaskier?” you called, knocking on the door of the chamber.

The men at the bar had told you that he would be here, with the man you were searching for.

They called him ‘The Witcher’ and you very much wanted to meet him. Not to mention that Jaskier had asked you to accompany him to the ball at Cintra. The two of you had been friends for many years, and there was no way you would ever attempt to go to a place like that without him.

You hated going to parties like the one that would be held tonight.

“Are you in there or not? I don’t have all night” you groaned, knocking again. It was clear that you weren’t in the mood to play these games. However, you weren’t prepared for what you would see when the door finally opened.

In a washtub in the center of the room sat a man with hair as pale as his flesh and rippling muscles, you knew that you were in the right place. However, before you could get too distracted by his frame, you turned your attention to the other man you had been searching for.

“I feared they had already killed you” you joked, wrapping the bard in a gentle hug. You hadn’t seen jaskier in quite some time, though in this moment, that didn’t matter.

You two had been friends for so long that distance and time no longer affected the bond you had. Instead, you snapped back into the same dynamic as soon as you saw each other again.

“Please, no one dare kill me” Jaskier assured, a joking tone in his own voice. He knew it wasn’t true but it was better than the truth.

If any of those noble lords found him, at the ball or anywhere else, they were liable to tear the small man limb-from-limb.

The very idea of it turned your attention from your friend to the basin again. “This must be the Witcher I’ve heard so much about” You grinned, a wicked glint in your eyes.

You had always been rather flirty with all different kinds of people but something about the witcher presented a new challenge you had never encountered before.

“I’m Y/N, pleasure to make your acquaintance” you purred, leaning over the front of the tub to offer him a hand.You half expected him to ignore it but to your surprise, he took your hand in his own and shook it a bit.

It was, by no means, a normal handshake but it was more than you had been expecting.

“Geralt of Rivia” he grumbled, clearly bothered by the intrusion. However, he didn’t give it much thought seeing as you seemed much less preoccupied with your friend than him. “I know who you are” you winked, standing back up from the kneeling position you had been in and turning your back to him, looking at Jaskier again.

If he wanted company this evening, he was going to have to get ready, but so were you. There was no way you would be going to the ball of Cintra in what you were wearing right now.

“I’ll see you two darlings in a few hours” you excused, pressing a light kiss to the side of Jaskier’s face in goodbye. “Goodbye Witcher” you waved, your hips swinging as you made your way out of the room.

You had to find something to make some kind of impression on this dashing Witcher.

…

A few hours went by before you were actually ready to go to the ball of cintra but by the time rolled around, you were more than ready. Your skirt fell down to your ankles and your corset was pulled so tight that you barely speak without gasping.

It hurt, of course it did, but you had always enjoyed the slight strain. It reminded you that you were doing something you wouldn’t normally do. Besides, you knew you looked incredible, so it was well worth it.

Jaskier spoke first when they arrived, as he so often did.

“Perfect, you look stunning” he praised, pressing a kiss to your cheek in greeting before spinning you around dramatically. He always liked to see your skirts swirl around your legs as you turned.

You smiled, silently thanking your friend for the compliment before once again noticing the Witcher.

He stayed back, not making a grand effort to assert himself into the conversation like you so wished he would, but that wasn’t a problem. You had no issue with being the one to make the first move.

Especially not in this case.

“I may faint tonight, can I count on you to catch me if I do?” you asked, gesturing down to the corset held tight to your middle. It was clear that you were joking but neither man seemed to mind.

In fact, it seemed like it was hard to get a rise out of the man...no matter how hard you tried. Not that you cared, you would find a way to get his attention before the night was over.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll be able to handle it” he answered. He rarely changed his tone as he spoke, keeping everything even and monotone in the most sexy way. You doubted that there wasn’t a woman alive that wasn’t attracted to him.

The problem would be getting him to feel the same pull in your direction.

You didn’t even know if the Witcher had a care in the world or not. In fact, there was very little known about his kind at all.

However, that wasn’t going to stop you from trying to find out.

Almost immediately after you arrived, Jaskier went off to play for the court while you and Geralt ended up more toward the side. You were moreso acting as backup just in case he got into some trouble.

Other than that, you just had to wait for the night to be over.

...So, you might as well find the best use for the extra time.

“They tell stories of you, y’know?  They say that the Witcher feels no emotion...is that true, Geralt?” you hummed, doing your best to seem inconspicuous as you leaned against the marble.

You were both here to play the same role, in different ways.

Jaskier needed some kind of cover in the event that he ran into a man whose husband he ravaged at some point in the past. Up until this point, it had been a job that fell solely to you but you weren’t complaining.

At least now, you wouldn’t have to charm whatever horrible man approached your oldest friend looking for a fight...as you’d had to do in the past.

Geralt was doing a pretty good job at scaring them off all on his own.

He grumbled lightly at your question, acting as if that was some kind of answer. Most people would have taken the hint and left but you weren’t most people. You thought there was something charming about his general distaste for humanity.

“Is there not a single emotion that you feel?” you continued, reaching over slowly to take his goblet of ale from his hand. It was a bit of a power move but the witcher made no motion to stop you. Instead, he watched as you brought the cup to your lips, tasting the sweet wine it held.

It was a different kind of interaction than he was used to but something about you interested him.

You had this odd sort of self confidence and character that most people lacked. You were so captivating, whether you meant to be or not.

“I wouldn’t know. What do you think?” he wondered, putting the ball back in your court by taking the goblet back. He was playing whatever little game you had set up and it was going to be fun for you...even if he didn’t really care.

The white wolf was a new and exciting addition to your otherwise bland existence and you weren’t going to let him pass you by without making an impression. “I do believe that it’s only a matter of time before I find out” you winked, turning toward the dance floor without another word.

You had never really been one for dancing but the idea of getting the Witcher to dance with you was too good to refuse.

...And as much as he knew he would regret it, Geralt followed you onto the dance floor.