#like he doesnt know at all what's coming. but it makes perfect sense to geralt!!!! because if jaskier didnt intend it that way

[caffieneaddictt18]

Moment of Peace

sorceress!reader travels with geralt and ciri as their healer and ciris mother figure as geralts wife. one relaxing day, reader shows ciri a little party trick that geralt doesnt know yet. ends with geralt and reader play fighting about why she didnt show him but showed ciri; and them all acting like a family

(not my image)

As we finally settle in a meadow, surrounded by forest, I let out a sigh of relief. The feeling of sun against my face and the soft soil beneath me feels amazing.

"Ciri! Y/N! Go collect water. I'll be right back." Geralt commands, but before he can leave to collect wood and sustenance for the night, you stop him and give him a quick kiss.

"Be safe."

"Always am."

Those simple four words are all you need before you walk off into the forest for a few yards, before you come upon a clear water stream. You see Ciri standing in the water and feeling the sun while collecting water. As you join her in the water, she looks up.

"So... why do you allow him to order you around if you're his wife?" Ciri, blunt as ever, asks, not understanding that this is Geralt's way of showing his love.

"He doesn't 'order' me around. It's his way of keeping us safe. I'm a mage and can keep you safe. You're training and can keep me safe. Plus, he goes off and does the dangerous hunting, so we don't have to. It's his way of showing love." I explain his actions and why I react without losing my patience with the way Geralt talks to me.

"Oh. I didn't think about it like that." Ciri ticks her head to the side and continues to collect water.

"Geralt isn't conventional. But he is exactly how I want him. I wouldn't want it any other way." I start towards the bank of the river and continue walking along the greenery of the forest.

As Ciri looked on as you walked, she watched in mystery. The forest seemed to bend to your will. The trees would part to make a path for you and the stones would roll out of the way, leaving only soft soil for you to walk on.

As you both reached your camp site, Geralt was dragging a large deer, and a cloth behind him that was filled. Probably with wood.

You and Ciri both put your jugs down as Geralt drops the sack of wood off near you and walks to the trees to skin the animal for food & it's hide.

You have the sense to build the fire and let Ciri light it later. She's normally sleepy when you build the fire. Makes it easier.

As you both run around, you find a good size patch of daisies.

"Ciri!" You call over the girl, "Come here!"

The blonde girl runs over to see what you're looking at.

"Would you like to learn how to make a daisy chain? You can even put one on Geralt, if you'd like." You throw out the tempting offer to make the Witcher seem silly.

And Ciri quickly agrees. You sit down, careful to avoid the daisies, and show her how to make a daisy chain/flower crown.

As the sun is no longer at its nice, warm heat and enters the baking heat, you take Ciri down to the stream again to clean up. 'The sun will dry us faster' was your reasoning to drag the girl with you.

As you are cleaning your clothes and yourself off, you see Ciri doing the same. Perfect.

"Hey, Ciri! Would you like to see something?"

"Um... What is it?"

"I promise, no harm will come unto you from me. It's just a little party trick."

"Ok..." She waded closer to you as you met her in the middle of the stream.

You magically gathered the sweat and water from Ciri and yourself, throwing it into the air and condensing the clouds around the sun to have more water, allowing the clouds to form a sort of circle around the sun. As the sun continues to shine, the clouds begin turn colors... briefly pink, then a light green, and there's a light blue! (Refer to the picture at the top)

Ciri looks at the sky in awe. "You can do this?" She points to the clouds.

"Yes. When I was at Aretuza, they taught not just politics and magic. They taught basic sciences. This was one of those. I had asked my teacher why there as a rainbow after every rainfall. She explained it to me. Since then, I had been practicing it until I was able to perfect it. Took a couple tries, but it came one day, and it stayed."

"And you never showed me?" A deep, hulking voice inquired from the shadows. Of course, the yellow cat-like eyes gave him away.

"I'm sorry, Geralt. I thought of it as a mere party trick. And it's not like it is helpful when we are off on adventures." I laugh and 'apologize' for not showing my husband sooner.

"You better be sorry!" He charges out of the woods and into the stream, getting both you and Ciri wet again, before lifting you by the waist and carrying you back to base on his shoulder. Everyone was laughing and peace was covering the three of them.

Just a moment of peace.

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

Author's Cup of Tea:

I am so sorry the ending was bad. I didn't know what to put for the ending so I winged it. Thank you all so much for your love and support of my work! I love to see everyone enjoying it.

[roughentumble]

"you could hang a portrait off my nipples," jaskier says, a deflection, a joke, but all geralt can see is,

ribs. a swath of ribs, a sunken-in stomach, skin clinging to thin arms. he own stomach chruns. jaskier had never had trouble making money in the past, once he'd made a name for himself, he was always the one pushing more food on geralt. bard means soft, bard means fed, bard means full waist and excess and joy. what had happened to him in the interveening months?

geralt doesnt feel privy to these details, even with their tenuous reconnection. he'd pushed jaskier away as he always does when he's hurting, and jaskier had left, and now he doesnt get the privilege of knowledge. but he still aches to see it, knows intimately the pain of an empty stomach. what had happened to his bard?

the moment passes. jaskier gets out of the water, redresses. they dont talk about it, because geralt doesnt have the words. feels like he never has the words. he has a million different things swirling around in his mind, a million different worries, and one more gets added to the pile. something must be done.

+++++

when the worst of everything is over, when everyone is gathered in kaer morhen and the cloud of death has passed, they still have to pick up the pieces. they still have to live. vesemir cooks for the ones still here, and he makes too much because--

because--

geralt hears him curse his old hands for making meals as theyre used to. for falling back on habit, instead of adjusting for...

theyre all used to death, but this still brings back too many memories. of massacres and hatred. everyone is silent unless theyre cursing.

still. the food is set out. people must eat.

jaskier is always the last to the table, seemingly sensing that he isnt very welcome. geralt wishes he were, but its hard to invite someone to a mourning. still, he moves strategically, filling two plates, piling them high with extra food. when jaskier gets to the table, before he can do anything, geralt sets a plate before him.

he gets a raised eyebrow at the portion. "it'll go to waste if it isnt eaten." geralt says simply, and jaskier nods, can sense that the portions are a... delicate subject. he tucks in. he only eats about three-fourths of his plate before declaring himself stuffed, and he sneaks a bottle of wine off the table, but geralt considers it a win.

++++

they plan to move on, geralt and ciri and yen and jask, all four of them. but they need to prepare first, and that gives geralt time. he piles jaskier's plates at every meal of the day, then lies in wait like an ambush predator, ready to spring his trap as soon as jaskier arrives. he doesnt think he's imagining the gradual rounding of jaskier's cheeks, the healthoer flush to his skin, but he cant be sure. jaskier's suspiciousness slowly dies down, replaced by routine and habit.

he comes to dinner reeking of booze half the time, but he also only leaves with a bottle half the time, and as much as geralt aches to know what's causing such strife, he considers that a win too.

++++

"i reek," jaskier announces one day with a wrinkled nose, "and if i take one more tub bath in this mountain air, my cock will shrivel up and fall off, to the consternation of every eligible young thing in the lands. and the inelibable ones too, come to think of it."

geralt snorts at his theatrics. "could always go down to the springs."

"oh yes, glacial mountain springs, sounds perfect," jaskier replies sarcastically.

geralt blinks. "no. the hot springs. hasnt anyone told you about them?" jaskier's bafflement makes geralt grin. "follow me."

they gather supplies they'll need for bathing in the customary buckets and carry them on their hips as geralt leads jaskier to the bowels of the keep. it's a bit of a trek, some of the corridors long and twisting, and geralt can tell from jaskier's face that he'll get lost if not accompanied. ah, well, it's hardly a hardship.

they arrive to a nondescript door at the bottom of a set of stairs, only distinct by the warmth of the handle. he pushes it open and steam rises to meet them, billowing out into the cold hallway. geralt gestures for jaskier to follow and closes the door behind them to keep the heat trapped.

inside is a cavern with a series of pools, each with steaming clear water. there's an area by the door to sit and undress, and there are sconces on the wall geralt lights with a quick wave of igni, but otherwise the room's been left untouched from its natural state. it's dim and warm and beautiful, the most coveted spot in kaer morhen.

jaskier looks around in wonder, fingertips grazing the stone walls. "i'll have to write a song about this place, you know."

"i'd expect nothing less," geralt replies with a fond smile. they both set about stripping, long since working past being shy after years of travel, and carry their supplies to the nearest pool. geralt keeps his eyes averted until theyre in the water, because its polite. as he steps in, though, jaskier lets out a satisfied groan, and it draws geralt's attention.

jaskier lounges back against the edge of the pool, head tipped back in ease, and there around his stomach is the welcome addition of soft fat.

he's nowhere near healthy again yet, but all over he's less emaciated, inner workings hidden again. it means he isnt starving, it means he has energy again, it means a clear head and vigor and comfort, it means the return of the soft bard, it means the world is once more righting itself.

geralt cant help but get a bit of a big head about it. he did that. he fed jaskier, provided, fixed it so he didnt ache. he did that. jaskier, though, he notices the smug look, throws geralt his own unimpressed one.

"yes, yes, your hot springs are very fancy your lordship, no need to look so above it all," he says with a wave of his hand.

"its not that," geralt says, shaking his head. "youre just... looking healthier. the meals at kaer morhen have been good for you."

jaskier goes very still. his eyes narrow. "is that what you've been doing? making my plates for me to-- to what? put some meat on my bones?"

geralt ducks his head. "it's been working, hasnt it? you came here so hungry. i couldnt do anything about it until after the battle, but home cooked meals have been doing you well. i know i dont have a right to ask what happened to make you..." he trails off for a moment, looking distant as the image of jaskier so damn skinny flashes before his eyes, "but i wanted to... fix it."

"maybe i didnt want to be fixed. you didnt even ask." jaskier says, sounding like he's gearing up for a rant, shoulders coiled tightly.

"im... sorry?" geralt says confusedly. "i could tell you were hungry. i wanted to get you something to eat." he says it like its the simplest thing in the world.

"why even bother? why do all that, what does it even fucking matter?" jaskier asks, simmering with barely controlled anger. "so im a bit skinny, what the hell is it to you?"

"because i care." geralt says, sticking out his chin stubbornly.

jaskier looks like he's been punched.

"why do you have to be so damn kind all the time, until youre suddenly not?" jaskier asks through tears, pressing his fists against his eyes. "youre so damned good. i hate it. i hate it so much."

geralt's chest aches. he doesnt quite know why he spurns kindness when he hurts, why pain makes him lash out like a cornered animal. he wants to do more. he wants to be better. he opens his arms and says "come here," gently.

jaskier goes. he shuffles over beside geralt and slumps into his arms, lets himself be held and petted. usually geralt's snapping gets him told off or ignored by jaskier, who knows about his problems. but perhaps with his world burning around him, he'd snapped too hard this time. maybe he'd drawn blood. his hands stroke jaskier's back like a dog licking in apology. "let me wash your hair?" he asks, and jaskier shudders violently, but nods.

jaskier dunks himself beneath the surface to soak entirely, and geralt lathers the shampoo bar to get it nice and sudsy. jaskier kneels in the middle of the spring while geralt works his fingers through the tacky strands, soaked with dirt and sweat. its a long process, meditative, and by the time geralt's done jaskier is swaying gently with each ministration. geralt tips him back gentle and easy to rinse away the grime, and jaskier sighs in relief.

geralt keeps him there, laying back, getting his scalp massaged in the hot water. the fullness of his cheeks isnt an illusion. neither is the peace in his expression. "are you alright?" geralt asks

jaskier opens his eyes slowly, gazing up at geralt. the silence is long and contemplative, and he reaches up to cup geralt's cheek. "...yeah. i think i'm gonna' be alright."

wait oh my god ok so

ive read fics where jaskier sees geralt's physique for the first time and is horrified, because he knows that being able to see all your abs in unhealthy and that geralt must be severely underweight and starved

what if that bathing scene in s2 wasnt geralt being turned on, it was geralt HORRIFIED because he's seeing that his friend has obviously fallen on some very hard times, and is starving

[roughentumble]

oh fuck what if Jaskier starts giving Geralt little tokens, bits of clothes or handkerchiefs or whatever, as good luck charms before contracts bc he's seen ppl do it for knights and genuinely thinks it's just a good luck thing

but Geralt, who knows all about knights and their code and their customs, knows that when someone gives a knight a token like that it's a sign of their favor, specifically their romantic favor

Jaskier always says "for good luck" when he gives them to Geralt so Geralt's not sure if Jaskier actually knows the romantic implications but desperately hopes that he does

!!!!!!!! ohhhh i adore thisssss with every FIBRE of my BEING and theres so many wonderful places to take it like oh

geralt's gotten a few from jaskier, wasnt sure what to make of them and just accepted them wordlessly. but this time he asked what jaskier meant by it. he sits atop roach, the little silk handkerchief between his fingers, and mulls over what jaskier's said-- a good luck charm, like for knights-- considers his next move. usually a knight would receive something like this before jousting, and would tie it somewhere visible, displaying his lady's (or in this case lord's) favor to the crowd. but he doesnt joust, and there's no crowd where he's going. he stares intently at the fabric as he mulls over his options.

well, the opinion of crowds never mattered much to him, so just jaskier's eyes will have to do. but this contract is genuinely too dangerous for jaskier to come along, so very slowly geralt presses the token back into jaskier's hand. "i cannot accept this today," he says gently, "but im not rejecting it either. the next time you want to come along on a contract, give me this exact handkerchief, and i'll take you, as long as it isnt too dangerous." jaskier looks confused for most of it, but his face lights up when he hears that offer.

"well! i cant say i understand why, but im certainly not going to turn that offer down!" he says, smile blinding. geralt cant help but smile back.

time passes. jaskier cashes in the handkerchief on a contract for a chort. dangerous, but geralt thinks he can get jaskier a vantage point that's close enough to watch but far enough to be safe. not unlike the stands of a jousting ring. he chuckles a little at the thought and, once jaskier's comfortably seated, geralt takes out the favor and ties it around one of the straps of his armor. "what are you doing that for?" jaskier asks.

he's genuinely curious, but geralt mistakes it for coyness, and he smiles indulgently. "what, indeed?" he says, trailing his fingers over the fabric. the promise to come back to him, safe and victorious. not a promise a witcher gets to make, but one he desperately wants to fulfill anyway. "now stay here." he says gently, and goes to finish his preperations.

he does wish jaskier had picked a beast with more intelligence, something in that sweet spot between brainless ghouls and the too-intelligent succubus, something he could really spar with, parrying blows and such, but the way the chort charges isnt entirely unlike a horse and rider, the horns not unlike a particularly deadly lance, so he supposes it'll do.

when the fight is over, the beast beheaded, he walks back to jaskier's hiding place and presents it to him-- proof of success. jaskier is delighted(though admittedly the gore of a severed head makes him look a bit green), and geralt takes it as confirmation. token accepted, task completed, knight returned home safely. acceptance from his intended. it all makes sense, even if he had to modify it a bit.

all that's left now is to start courting jaskier.

[roughentumble]

ok so the premise goes like this

geralt puts some mushrooms in his stew one night, jaskier eats it, gets a horrible stomach ache, is up all night puking.

geralt didnt mean to, ofc, but he stays up all night caring for jaskier, and he's so soft and sweet and pliant and needy, he needs geralt, seeks out his love and affection, finds comfort in him. something about the mushrooms, when he vomits it smells sickly-sweet, and all night his skin is pale in the moonlight but his cheeks are flushed, his eyes are dewy, he-- he looks gorgeous.

it sortve breaks something, in geralt's brain, to be so thoroughly needed and comforting to someone so beautiful. it's... unforgivable, evil, to take advantage of jaskier like that, he knows it is. yet still, he files away what the mushroom looked like, what its side effects are, looks it up in books about herbology. too many stomach aches lead to ulcers, too much vomiting bad for the teeth and the throat, vomit too long and you get dehydrated-- but surely... just once or twice a year, well..... thats normal. that's a normal amount to be ill, perhaps.

he stays away from effects bad enough to induce vomiting. it's too extreme, too dangerous, and not the part he's looking for anyway. just enough to ache, enough to cause upset that needs to be soothed and rubbed away. for years, he keeps it up, one night each year. and jaskier curses himself, and his constitution, writhing in pain, but he bares his stomach to geralt willingly, and it nearly makes geralt dizzy, because jaskier TRUSTS him. geralt reaches a hand down, rubbing and soothing the cramped, aching muscles, and jaskier relaxes at his touch, looks at him and doesnt see a threat, sees a protector. and not just a protector, but a comfort. he gets a look in his eye, sometimes, that geralt cant identify. but then he curls a little closer, and geralt pets his hair in comfort, and his shoulders ease as the last bits of pain and tension melt away. geralt cant ask about it without revealing the game, so he doesnt.

eventually, he invites jaskier to kaer morhen, and moves over to the Event happening exclusively within castle walls. it's safest there, after all, and there's always a warm bed for jaskier to get cuddled in. jaskier's comfort in his discomfort is key. he doesnt have to worry about his fellow witchers finding out either, because jaskier blames his constitution at this point, and geralt (and therefore the other witchers) are able to eat the mushrooms with no ill effect. it seems perfect.

jaskier finds out, eventually. up in kaer morhen, safe for the season but also stuck, trapped together. (there hadnt been opportunities that year to subtly slip anything into the food when geralt was on cooking duty. they were coming up on spring, running out of time, so instead of just waiting, geralt decides to reheat some leftover soup in their room, in the fireplace, use the excuse of a midnight snack of sorts. jaskier sees him slipping in the mushrooms, and somehow, after all these years, recognizes it. it feels like there's a lead weight in geralt's stomach as jaskier puts the pieces together, eyes wide with rage and horror. "every year-- every year i get sick." he says, like everything suddenly makes sense-- probably because it does.) incandescent with fury, he demands to know why geralt would poison him. geralt isnt forthcoming with excuses, but when he's pushed he breaks down, says its inexcusable, says he knows what he did was bad(to say the least), but that he did it because jaskier needed him. he was beautiful and sweet and needed him. "i wanted to-- to hold you. to comfort you. in the sickest, most twisted way possible, i- i wanted to... i dont know... nurse you back to health."

jaskier's hands are shaking. "you-- you... what, wanted me to... to get better? be ill so you could fix me?" geralt shrugs. his eyes are trained on the floor. he's crossed so many lines he doesnt know where to even begin listing them, knows they'll part ways in the spring and never see each other again, is about to promise to stay as far away as he can while theyre trapped in the keep, when--

jaskier, after pacing back and forth endlessly, fury slowly melting away to some sort of grim resolve, sits down in front of the hearth, and pours himself a bowl. geralt shouts, to stop him, but jaskier tells him to shut up, and he does. jaskier starts the bowl, then finishes it. asks if another bowl would be safe, and geralt quietly responds that yes, its safe, he'll just be sore for longer, and he nods(apparently satisfied) and pours himself a half-bowl, finishes that too. geralt is too mystified to speak up for a long while, until he finally asks "you arent... mad?"

"oh i am." jaskier assures him. gets up, walks across the room, sets himself down in geralt's lap. but not sexy, exactly-- he sits sideways, curls his knees up to his chest to snuggle in close. "extremely mad. you're going to have to do a lot to make it up to me-- especially when im extra sore tomorrow... perhaps even help me with a bath." geralt sucks in a shocked breath, and jaskier nuzzles up under his chin.

"did i ever tell you much about my childhood?" geralt shakes his head, and jaskier starts playing with the material of his shirt. "my mother didnt really raise me. i was mostly handed off to a wet nurse. but i-- they werent... good at keeping help. high turnover rate. so i had more than one over the years, never really... got to get properly attached... and i-- i remember, when i was very little, i would get sick and i would want my mother-- i'd ask for my mother-- but she'd never come."

he sniffles a bit. clings to geralt's shirt. "you're going to have to do so much to make up for this. you're going to dote on me, and comfort me, and-- and--" his voice gets very small, and very sad, a frightened, trembling thing-- "and you wont leave me, will you?" he asks, and geralt makes a noise in the back of his throat, wraps his arms around jaskier and holds him tight, and jaskier relaxes in his grip.

"we're talking about this tomorrow. a very, very big, ongoing, gigantic conversation. but... but for now... well. we always have a fun night before the aching starts, so i want to spend my night how i normally do."

just to sate his own curiosity, he does eventually ask geralt about it, and geralt explains why only once a year, how he decided on dosing, what side effects he looks out for, explains about ulcers and throats and teeth. and jaskier sinks into his grip, inexplicably enamored with this odd, violating conversation. "wow, you really put a lot of thought into this, hmm? you know, there are some sick, twisted people out there who wouldnt have been able to resist. they wouldve made me sicker and sicker, never wouldve given a thought to any lasting consequences..." he's tracing little hearts on geralt's chest as he speaks.

"never," geralt says vehemently, "never. you have to get better, i would never permanently hurt you. i have to fix you, comfort you, not destroy you."

"my sweet geralt-- you know just how to care for me, dont you?" he says, and it practically makes geralt moan. jaskier smiles like the cat who caught the canary.

turns out theyre both fucked up in similar ways-- geralt needs to be needed, needs to be the source of someone's comfort, needs opportunities to be caring and gentle and attentive. and jaskier needs to be the center of attention, needs to be loved on, needs to be given comfort, needs someone to need. there's an element of control, too, sortve. geralt decides when it happens, how bad it is, and he tries hard not to abuse that now he's been given permission(though how much of an excuse is that, considering how the game started?). he fiddles with the recipe to see what works best, pays close attention to jaskier's schedule to make sure there are never conflicts. geralt's the one who makes him feel better, after all. you've got to trust your doctor. total trust

its weird, and fucked up, and once they agree on terms(jaskier insisted on negotiations that geralt agrees to instantly. terrified of losing jaskier, of paying in his eyes the ultimate price for his crimes. he was moments from sinking to his knees and pleading forgiveness when jaskier had prevented that by sinking into his lap.) jaskier gives himself over to it, never fights it, lets himself be forced into illness and bedrest, revels in geralt's big, gentle hands soothing his aches, love so sweet and reassuring and unconditional that eventually in his worst nightmares he finds he doesnt reach for his mother-- he reaches for geralt.

and when he admits this, he can see in geralt's eyes theres this wild, crazy spark, something about being that important. its heady

its maybe not Right, but they figure it out together

[hale-of-stiles-heart]

#meanwhile jaskier has no idea he's about to be Knightly Code Courted by geralt #like he doesnt know at all what's coming. but it makes perfect sense to geralt!!!! because if jaskier didnt intend it that way #there were so many ways he couldve broken tradition!!! but instead he played his part perfectly!! so clearly he meant it. obviously.

Geralt starts his courting with little gifts and tokens for Jaskier, offering to write him when they happen to part ways, being more physically affectionate (but limiting himself bc this is about chivalry damn it, so he like sits closer to Jaskier and offers him his cloak when he’s cold, sometimes takes him by the hand to help him down stairs or guide him through particularly thick underbrush)

and Jaskier is very pleasantly surprised but very confused bc he didn’t realize what his good luck tokens implied! he doesn’t wanna get his hopes up but it seems like Geralt’s maybe making a move on him, albeit in a very subtle and sometimes awkward way but it’s sweet!

maybe Jaskier really commits to not getting his hopes up bc maybe Geralt’s not flirting with him or anything, maybe he’s reading too much into it, so he doesn’t really respond to Geralt’s courting in the way that Geralt’s hoping and it makes him worry maybe Jaskier isn’t actually into him - so they’re both confused and don’t realize the other interpreted the tokens differently than they did

and maybe it comes to a head one night and they both end up snapping at each other and somehow the tokens get brought up, Jaskier mentioning something about them being for good luck and Geralt finally snaps, “No, they don’t! They’re favors! From a lord to his knight! They’re symbols of romantic affection!”

and Jaskier blurts “they are?!”

oh fuck what if Jaskier starts giving Geralt little tokens, bits of clothes or handkerchiefs or whatever, as good luck charms before contracts bc he's seen ppl do it for knights and genuinely thinks it's just a good luck thing

but Geralt, who knows all about knights and their code and their customs, knows that when someone gives a knight a token like that it's a sign of their favor, specifically their romantic favor

Jaskier always says "for good luck" when he gives them to Geralt so Geralt's not sure if Jaskier actually knows the romantic implications but desperately hopes that he does

!!!!!!!! ohhhh i adore thisssss with every FIBRE of my BEING and theres so many wonderful places to take it like oh

geralt's gotten a few from jaskier, wasnt sure what to make of them and just accepted them wordlessly. but this time he asked what jaskier meant by it. he sits atop roach, the little silk handkerchief between his fingers, and mulls over what jaskier's said-- a good luck charm, like for knights-- considers his next move. usually a knight would receive something like this before jousting, and would tie it somewhere visible, displaying his lady's (or in this case lord's) favor to the crowd. but he doesnt joust, and there's no crowd where he's going. he stares intently at the fabric as he mulls over his options.

well, the opinion of crowds never mattered much to him, so just jaskier's eyes will have to do. but this contract is genuinely too dangerous for jaskier to come along, so very slowly geralt presses the token back into jaskier's hand. "i cannot accept this today," he says gently, "but im not rejecting it either. the next time you want to come along on a contract, give me this exact handkerchief, and i'll take you, as long as it isnt too dangerous." jaskier looks confused for most of it, but his face lights up when he hears that offer.

"well! i cant say i understand why, but im certainly not going to turn that offer down!" he says, smile blinding. geralt cant help but smile back.

time passes. jaskier cashes in the handkerchief on a contract for a chort. dangerous, but geralt thinks he can get jaskier a vantage point that's close enough to watch but far enough to be safe. not unlike the stands of a jousting ring. he chuckles a little at the thought and, once jaskier's comfortably seated, geralt takes out the favor and ties it around one of the straps of his armor. "what are you doing that for?" jaskier asks.

he's genuinely curious, but geralt mistakes it for coyness, and he smiles indulgently. "what, indeed?" he says, trailing his fingers over the fabric. the promise to come back to him, safe and victorious. not a promise a witcher gets to make, but one he desperately wants to fulfill anyway. "now stay here." he says gently, and goes to finish his preperations.

he does wish jaskier had picked a beast with more intelligence, something in that sweet spot between brainless ghouls and the too-intelligent succubus, something he could really spar with, parrying blows and such, but the way the chort charges isnt entirely unlike a horse and rider, the horns not unlike a particularly deadly lance, so he supposes it'll do.

when the fight is over, the beast beheaded, he walks back to jaskier's hiding place and presents it to him-- proof of success. jaskier is delighted(though admittedly the gore of a severed head makes him look a bit green), and geralt takes it as confirmation. token accepted, task completed, knight returned home safely. acceptance from his intended. it all makes sense, even if he had to modify it a bit.

all that's left now is to start courting jaskier.