#witcher post mountain shit

[jeanblack2056]

Jaskier's poems:

So in my head Jaskier has been writing poems about Geralt ever since he met him and published them under the Dandelion pseudonym, kinda hoping Geralt would read them, kinda hoping he would not.

Coincidentaly they become sort of popular and when Eskel travels through Oxenfurt, he buys one of the collections to bring home, as it's clear they are written about a witcher.

Fast forward a few years later, it's after the mountain and Geralt, Ciri and Jaskier come to Kaer Morhen, when Eskel realizes who wrote the poems and starts reading them aloud after Ciri went to sleep.

Jaskier turns red and panics internally, while cringing at his old writing. Vesemir politely excuses himself and goes to sleep. Geralt slowly turns even paler as he realizes the poems are about him and Lambert bursts out laughing because who the hell would write about Geralt like this. He's utterly oblivious.

[alons-ycreeper]

Look I don't write for this pairing I pure read fanfic of it and that's it but this one idea keeps festering in my head so here:

Post-mountain, already at Kaer Morhen but like no Deathless Mother shenanigans. Geralt gets shit faced with his brothers as per the winter usual only this time with the added bonus of all his angst physically following him home. Especially the Jaskier-angst. The bard hasn't spoken much to Geralt instead spending all his time with Yennefer in the lab, continuing Ciri's noble education, or helping Vesemir finally organize the library. Basically Jaskier makes zero time for Geralt except for meal times which always have the bard either sitting with Yenn, Ciri, or Vesemir but never near Geralt.

So when Geralt goes to drink with Lambert, Eskel (both game-canon) and Coën he finds out that Jaskier has been slowly approaching his brothers little by little trying to befriend them. It drives the angst and jealousy through the roof and it's not even midnight before Geralt is flat on his ass murmuring "Toss A Coin" in the softest, saddest tone ever particularly on the "your witcher" part. The boys tell their brother to get some rest and the big sad wolf trudges up the step until he stops in front of Jaskier's room. He can hear the bard sleeping, he just wants to check on him so Geralt opens the door and lets himself in.

The bard is a pretty as ever. Quarter-elf blood goes a long way to keep it like that. Then Geralt notices the quill on the desk still dripping with ink. Jaskier is dead asleep.

Quill. Jaskier. Quill. Jaskier. Geralt has an idea.

Jumping out of bed the next morning, Jaskier rushes down to get whatever breakfast is left over. He doesn't notice the others gawking at first too busy feeding himself and telling Ciri that the lessons with him will be combined with Yennefer's today as they'll be discussing court mages. It isn't until he's done that he notices them. Eskel, Lambert and Coën have this horrified-amused look, Vesemir looks very tired, Ciri is blushing so hard her face is as red as tomato and Yenn is glaring daggers at Geralt who seems to be very pleased with himself.

"Something on my face?" Jaskier asks.

"Go look in a mirror, bard." Yenn says not turning away from Geralt who she keeps murdering with her eyes.

So he does. Jaskier goes to the closest mirror and gasps at what he finds.

There written on his left cheek "Property of Geralt of Rivia". Kaer Morhen is about to be down a witcher.

[lucigoo]

Weekly Round up: 11th November - 17th November

Whoop!! We are finally back on track. I wrote 31,765 words this week, it was a slog and half as I mixed up some date fests 🤦‍♀️. I uploaded 7 fics this week, but 3 are unrevelaed until the 29th!

But as always, first is the fic recs.

The Lesson of You - thecouchsofa - Harry Potter (Harry/Draco, kid fic)

Summary: Harry likes kids. That doesn't mean he's ready for a small boy to turn up on the doorstep of Grimmauld Place insisting that Harry is his father. That was weird enough, but the child identifying Draco Malfoy as his other parent was something Harry had no bloody idea how to handle.

Not All That Glitters (Is Good For Your Health) - comatosecombat - The Hobbit (Bilbo/Thorin)

Summary: In his attempt to distract Smaug from attacking Lake-town, Bilbo accidentally destroys the One Ring of Power, saves the day and brings peace on Middle-Earth.

When it comes to him and Thorin, that resolves absolutely nothing.

The Herd of Durin - DomesticGoddess - The Hobbit (Bilbo/Thorin, Centaur Au, as we know in the Bagginshield fandom, Domestic Godessess' fics are phenominal, this is my fav of ALL their work!)

Summary: Thorin's herd is the last of the Durin Tribe. Between dwindling food supplies, a mare shortage, and an increasing human population, Thorin has his hands full trying to keep his herd alive. Thorin knows, despite his best efforts, its only a matter of time before the Khuzd centaurs face extinction. At least, he though he did. Everything changes when he discovers a strange  a strange little pony centaur who smells like a mare, but looks like a stallion.

Take me as I am - phiaura - The Witcher (TV) (Geralt/Jaskier, AWAU)

Summary: Thus, a deal was struck, a treaty agreed upon. Rivia would not take military action against any allied kingdom and in turn, the kingdoms would provide the king of Rivia with a consort. So far, that last bit was the part of the treaty that had gone to shit. As far as Jaskier had understood, up to now the White Wolf had turned down all the proffered brides. If a consort was not approved, the treaty would be null and void.

Where Jaskier is the last chance of fulfilling the requirements of a treaty between the warlord of Rivia, and the allied kingdoms. Will it prove to be his rescue or his doom?

i've loved you in a million different ways - dotty456 - Harry Potter - (Sirius/Remus, This is one of my favourite longer fics. I have read it so many times and stil I adore it)

Summary: An everybody lives fanfic that follows the Marauders from before their first year to the end of Hogwarts - may include mentions of their children/marriages and future stuff because I can. Dumbledore is a douchebag, Voldemort doesn't exist and the Black cousins join together before the elder Blacks start burning that damn family tree

Green-Handed - lotus0kid - The Hobbit (Bilbo/Thorin)

Summary: Post-BotFA, while Thorin, Fili, and Kili are slowly recovering from their wounds, Bilbo finds himself subject to a condition that hobbits might experience at a few very particular times in their lives, under very particular circumstances, none of which apply to him. Very confused (and somewhat embarrassed) he decides to keep it a secret during this delicate time in the mountain. This goes about as well as you might expect.

I hope you all have a wonderful week and find something to read that brings you joy <3

As I am also doing a basterdised Nano, I am using the month to finish as many of my Wips as possibel, of course, I also write new ones baseu I cant help myself lol.

Of the 63 wips I started with, i have finished 9 of them and so im feeling pretty proud tbh.

I have also worked on

Ghost Ship Of Witchers and Songbirds King of Azkaban

Feel free to ask about any of hem.

Anyway, this weeks fics are:

Love and Laughter at the Burrow - Lucigoo89 - Harry Potter (Percy/Viktor, Weasley siblings) this was written for HP Rare Pairs Game Night flash fest, heres ths coolection.

Summary: Percy has brought his boyfriend, Viktor, to the Burrow for family game night.

Why he thought his siblings would have at least a small amount of decorum he doesnt know, he thinks as he watches Viktor get interrigated and the rest if his siblings cheat at snakes and ladders, because of course they do!

Spinning in Memory - Lucigoo89 - Harry Potter (Gen, Weasley fmaily, Harry, Hermione and grief) This one was written for the Remember Remember Flash fest comp and heres that collection. Warnings, this one deals with post war grief!

Summary: It has been 6 months since the Battle of Hogwarts. 6 months since George's twin, his best friend, was ripped away from him. And now its Bonfire night, a night both Fred and George had loved their entire lives.

Now there was just George and his broken family looking into the fire. Feeling the weight of the missing Weasley, of Geroge's now lost brother.

Give it to me - Lucigoo89 - Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling] (Sirius/Remus)

Summary: It's Remus 65th Birthday. He is alive and his husband, Sirius has a suprise for him, and it's not just him in his sexy little black dress.

The Warmth of His Hands - Lucigoo89 - The Hobbit (Billbo/Thorin) Written for @flashfictionfridayofficial's prompt #279 - warm hands. Warning for MCD.

Summary: Thorin's hands have always been warm, always been strong.

And now Bilbo's heart is breaking as he feels the warmth fade form them, as he feels his heart break as his loves heart stops.

Well thats it for this week, see you next Sunday <3

[icannotreadcursive]

Was tagged by @grownupchangeling, whose image ID text I also borrowed from. Thanks!

Anyway, fandoms I write for: Hazbin Hotel, Brokeback Mountain, The Old Guard, Sailor Moon, Marvel, The Witcher, and a smattering of others.

Now! Talking about my answers on this XD.

I still have an FFN account, I'm ChinamiMorimoto, but I don't really use it anyomre. Whenever I actually write more on my long-on-hiatus Winter Soldier fic, I will be posting that there, cuz that fic predated my Ao3 account and I was cross-posting it once I got that account, I'll continue to cross post it once it comes off hiatus.

I'm Eiiri on Ao3.

Yeah, I write smut now. Cannot fuckin' believe the first smut I posted was not cowboy smut, but the demons ate my brain. (There will be cowboy smut eventually. There will also be Trigun smut; that one's half written.)

I marked the roleplay one with a question mark cuz, like, kinda? Spontaneously, casually (and usually briefly) with buds, sure, but not in any kind of roleplay account way. And I do have one friend I sometimes do pretty extensive rp-writing with but I don't really count that as "online".

So much beta'ing for friends. So much.

Honestly more of my fics go up unbetaed than actually get betaed.

Ho, all my fic is self-indulgent, that's why I'm writing it.

I HAVE left kudos more than once on the same thing! Can only do it once while logged in, but if you log out and use more than one device..........

I clearly write a lot of M/M, but I've written a bit of F/F too.

My brain starts weaving stories about every fandom I get my grubby little racoon hands on, it's just a matter of if I write them down.

I am a research fiend.

People have been drawing things for my Hellish Encounters series of Hazbin fics and I am so incredibly honored 🥺 You can find some of it here and here!

So many unpublished, and let's just not talk about the half-finished ones partially posted and on hiatus.....

There are so many stories I've started on my phone at 3 am cuz that's when the ideas hit lol

Very much depends on what you think counts as "drunk." I effectively never drink to the point of significant intoxication, but writing tipsy? Oh yeah that's happened.

The Measure of a Tit. It's a short, cute, funny little Sailor Moon ficlet and I really think it deserves more love. It was bouncing around in my head for years before I finally sat down and wrote it, and I love how it turned out.

Swear to god I am gonna make money off of writing shit, I just need to get something actually produced or published.

Tagging: @hotcocoaandstripedsweaters @nerdsandthelike @when-did-this-become-difficult @mediumorange @greentealycheejelly @non-un-topo and anybody else!

Blank bingo under the cut

[lambden]

2.9K words, explicit, geraskier/competence kink, no warnings. originally posted (anonymously) to ao3 here

Something pulls Geralt from his meditation early. He has no clue what it might have been; when he opens his eyes, the forest is pristine. Picturesque, even. He and Jaskier had set up camp along the actual path of the Path. Fearing that the cold mountains would greet them with a blizzard, Geralt had suggested last night that they might seek refuge in a narrow but deep canyon for safety.

Jaskier had pointed out that a blizzard was about as likely to happen as an avalanche, and that if the goddesses decided to bestow the latter disaster upon them, they’d be absolutely fucked between the high rock walls on either side of them.

The petty bickering of last night seems so trivial in the brisk morning air. The thin tarpaulin Geralt strung up over their bedrolls to shield them from snow was fine yesterday. Functional, if ugly. But now, dappled light from above makes the fabric glow, and the sparse patches of new snow beyond their camp sparkle like glitter. Everything looks beautiful in the dawn— or, not dawn, technically, since he slept in. 

Geralt strains his senses for threats and finds no distant monsters to flee; he only hears birdsong. He only sees beautiful nature. He inhales deeply, and the sharp scent of spilled blood hits him immediately before Jaskier stumbles back under the tarpaulin.

“Ah, joy, you’re finally up,” says Jaskier cheerfully. There are no obvious wounds on him and no blood visible on his clothing. If Geralt hadn’t been made to spot irregularities, perhaps he would have missed the sweat at Jaskier’s hairline. Melodious and irritating as ever, the man continues, “Can we pack up camp and start moving now? I’m beginning to understand why you always gripe when I sleep in.”

Geralt doesn’t mince words. “What happened?”

“No clue what you mean,” Jaskier sings. He scooches over to come and sit beside Geralt, resting his back against the mossy wall covered in small icicles of frozen dew. Geralt, unconvinced, leans over the bard’s lap to try to get a look at the side he’s hiding, and Jaskier sighs. “Shit. Alright, you— alright! It’s fine, Geralt, really! Just a spot of bother, nothing to write home about.”

Geralt’s glare makes it clear that he isn’t going to repeat his question.

“It’s not my blood,” tries Jaskier, which does come as a small relief, although it hardly puts Geralt’s panic to rest. “It… I had to piss, alright? So I climbed up out of the canyon, and, you know—” he does some truly reprehensible miming— “I was right in the middle when I heard this awful caterwauling coming from somewhere. I thought it was a dying bobcat or something, but… it was actually a few of them, you know. Shrieking and grunting back and forth.”

A chill runs down Geralt’s spine. He leans in slightly, nostrils flaring as he breathes the blood in once more. He should have clocked the scent for what it was: “Nekkers.”

“Yeah, a whole happy family.” Jaskier, sighing again, finally relents and shows Geralt the spray of blood along his side. True to his word, it isn’t human. It still makes the witcher unhappy. He settles back down into his own seat as his friend continues, “There must have been about eight of them.”

Suddenly the amount of blood seems like far, far too little. Geralt stares, and demands, “How are you not dead?”

“It’s a funny story, actually,” says Jaskier, sounding sheepish, of all things. “I’ve seen you fight those little shits before, so I sort of… I dunno, copied what you do. Minus the swordsmanship, and magic fire, and all that, of course.”

If his eyes were bulging out of his skull before, Geralt is sure he looks positively ridiculous now. He can’t rein in his expression or regulate his emotions, too shocked by Jaskier’s story. “You killed them?”

“What was I supposed to do, give them all names?”

“You killed eight nekkers?”

“It was a little hard to tell from the mangled bodies, but yes, I believe so.” Jaskier awkwardly clears his throat. His pulse races. “Geralt, you’re staring at me like you want to bite my head off.”

The witcher doesn’t blink. “I’ve never even seen you kill a fly.”

“Well, why would I kill a fly,” Jaskier is beginning to sound a little exasperated— then before either of them know it, Geralt is swinging a leg over his lap and straddling his thighs and pressing in close, and Jaskier’s voice rises at least an octave. “I— I have no intention of taking on contracts! It was just a minor inconvenience; I didn’t want to wake you from your meditation! You can be quite a cranky prick sometimes, you know. Are you going to teach me some demented lesson about safety by bashing my head in?”

“No,” he informs Jaskier plainly. “Tell me what happened.”

“It’s a little difficult to think while I’ve got a lapful of witcher!”

Geralt reaches between them to untie the complicated drawstrings of Jaskier’s trousers. His fingers only still when he’s got the cords loose from their knots; he glances up to check in, his gaze meeting the bard’s. Jaskier’s pupils are blown wide and dark, and how his heartbeat raced before is nothing compared to now. The silence is live, the air simmering like a place of power, and Geralt’s question goes unspoken but is understood perfectly by both men.

Jaskier nods, a small, overwhelmed motion— his chin tips forward and his head bobs with it, his lovely hair falling in front of his pretty eyes. Geralt gently pushes the errant strands of hair back, and before Jaskier can properly recuperate from that first delicate touch, the witcher inelegantly and bluntly reaches to free the bard’s cock from his pants.

“Holy ploughing mother of cunt,” Jaskier breathes.

“Tell me what happened,” repeats Geralt, “in detail.”

“Right. Yes. The nekkers.” His fist closes around Jaskier’s length just under the thick flushed head; they watch together as liquid wells up at the tip. The broad pad of Geralt’s thumb brushes over the wetness and a new drop of pre-cum rises to take its place immediately. 

Sounding more winded than Geralt has ever heard him, Jaskier manages, “They weren’t trying to sneak up on me, actually, so I had an extra minute to prepare. If they got the jump on me I would have been fucked, but as it was I had the time to rifle through Roach’s saddlebags. And, by the way, Roach was massively unhelpful during the fight. Loyal companion, my arse. I suppose I should stop talking about your horse while you’ve got your hand round my cock!”

“Focus,” says Geralt, stroking Jaskier with firmer, slower motions. “How could you have known what to use?”

That question nets him a very unimpressed look, the effect of which is only slightly dampened by Jaskier’s obvious arousal. “I’ve been your local companion for quite a while now,” huffs the bard. “I do actually pay attention, some of the time. And it’s easy enough to tell Grapeshot apart from the other explosives!”

Geralt adjusts his position atop Jaskier’s lap, fist still moving slowly around his prick. “I only had two Grapeshots made,” he mutters. “And I’ve never taught you the recipe.”

“Two was all I needed.” More turned on than he’s ever been in his life, Geralt keeps his gaze pinned to Jaskier as he tells the story— and his hand firmly in place. “You— You kept a trophy from that nekker infestation a few contracts back, and I figured, you know, they follow some kind of h-hierarchy. So I held the nasty thing up right in front of my head, and I shrunk my shoulders down and hunched my back, and… well, I’m not going to do my impression of a monster growling right now, but needless to say they fell for it.”

“Hard to mistake you for a nekker.”

“They aren’t the brightest,” admits Jaskier. His heart beats faster from the compliment regardless; Geralt feels a thick vein pulsing under the soft side of his knuckles. He chases the feeling, dragging his fingers up and down the bard’s length curiously. “It wasn’t a long ruse, anyway— I just had to get them to follow my orders. Once they’d all lined up in a group, it was easy enough to sling the Grapeshots their way; like one of those prize games from a festival, you know? But right as I threw the bombs—”

Geralt’s prick strains against the codpiece in his armour. Unable to hide the raw edge of desperation in his hoarse voice, he demands, “You threw two bombs at once?”

“Yes,” Jaskier mumbles, a bit pink. “What, is that against the rules?”

Instead of offering his immediate response, which is that Geralt is damn lucky he ran into Jaskier before Lambert ever did because if his little brother heard a story like that then he would have married the bard long before the fall of Cintra, Geralt shakes his head dumbly, and gestures with his free hand for Jaskier to continue.

“Well, one of the buggers noticed what I was doing right before the bombs exploded— or maybe he noticed that his newly beloved queen bee was actually a beheaded, reanimated corpse— and, in any case, he wasn’t too happy. While I was shielding my eyes and ears from the explosions he ran right up to me, and tore the trophy out of my hands.” Jaskier mimes this part of the fight, too caught up in his own story to even pay proper attention to Geralt jerking him off. His passion is beyond endearing. “But unfortunately for him, I had my trusty dagger.”

Geralt can’t help it— before he can restrain the sound, he snorts. “The paring knife you use to cut up Roach’s apples?”

“Yes,” huffs Jaskier. “I made do with what I had, alright? Time moves at a normal speed for us humans, you know, even during battle, so I didn’t have a moment to prepare. I just—” he thrusts his hand forward, miming gutting— “in and out, boom, done. Before I knew it, I had stabbed him in the eye. And he let out the most horrible sound, really, I’m surprised it didn’t wake you up!”

“You stabbed it in the eye,” Geralt repeats, dizzy.

“Yes…?”

“Right.” He finally lets go of the bard’s prick, rolling off his thighs. Jaskier watches with hooded, puzzled eyes that quickly widen as Geralt removes the lower half of his armour as quickly as he can. When he reaches back between his legs to shove two blunt, dry fingers into himself, the bard lets out a squeak not unlike a lutestring snapping. Geralt pants, “Tell me again.”

“Tell— tell you— wh-what exactly,” stammers the professional wordsmith. It only gets worse as Geralt takes hold of his prick once more. Jaskier’s cock is hard, standing at attention, and leaking everywhere; Geralt smears the pre-cum over its flushed, angry head. “Gods, fuck, Geralt—”

“Tell me the story again,” Geralt demands. “While I ride you.”

“I’m afraid I won’t last past the inciting incident— oh,” cries Jaskier. Geralt slides down onto him slowly, letting them both feel the tightness, and the lack of proper preparation. Geralt doesn’t care if the stretch is bordering on the edge of pain; he likes the weight inside him. It grounds him. Jaskier’s breath comes in quick, shallow puffs while Geralt inhales and exhales deeply through his nose, the same way he would after taking Killer Whale to dive to the bottom of the ocean. This isn’t too dissimilar from that— except that Killer Whale doesn’t usually make his prick hard as a whetstone.

Geralt sinks down to the very bottom of the sea. Once he’s fully seated on Jaskier’s cock, he can feel the length of it inside his arse, filling him completely. He can even feel Jaskier’s thudding heart under his hands, and echoing through the air, and pulsing deep inside him— almost in the right spot, but not quite.

The witcher places a broad hand on each of Jaskier’s shaking shoulders and uses them as leverage to pull himself up, slowly but firmly gripping onto the cock inside him as he does. Then, right as Jaskier’s cockhead is about to breach him once more, Geralt slides back down in one fluid motion. And rises to do it again. And again.

Jaskier’s grip on his hips is viselike; if Geralt was human, he might bruise. The thought allures him so he encourages the touch, tightening his own grip on the man’s shoulders as he fucks himself on Jaskier’s cock. Every time the bard opens his mouth to undoubtedly let out some irreverent prayer or curse or expression of disbelief, an incomprehensible litany of moans and other dirty sounds escapes him instead. He practically sobs when Geralt adjusts their position, bending his knees on either side of Jaskier so as to ride his cock more efficiently. With each new roll of their hips it seems to strike deeper and deeper inside Geralt. Then one of Jaskier’s hands quests around his backside to press them into a new, closer position, and the new angle has Geralt seeing stars, and suddenly he’s the one making all sorts of embarrassing noises.

“Good, that’s perfect, darling,” Jaskier, though breathless, takes the time to praise him carefully. This almost makes Geralt groan deeper than the pressure inside him. “You’re doing so good for me. Had I known this was my reward coming back from the hunt, I wouldn’t’ve wasted any time with those ugly monsters.”

“How did you know about the— the hierarchies, the family structures— that they follow a chieftain,” pants Geralt, his sweaty hair falling forward in front of his eyes. “You’re not even a witcher.” Jaskier quickly reaches up to brush it back, then holds it in a loose fist, which is, as it turns out, perfect. The hand on his scalp is just enough to ground him, and when Jaskier uses his grip to pull Geralt in closer, he doesn’t resist at all.

“Well,” Jaskier practically purrs against his lips, somehow managing to be smug even as he bounces Geralt on his cock. “It wasn’t that hard.”

Geralt surprises them both by coming all over Jaskier’s abdomen, and as his body tenses the bard follows him over the edge a moment later, arching up into him and filling him with his release. The two eruptions happen in such quick succession that they feed into each other, and it’s all Geralt can do to avoid clinging to Jaskier hard enough to hurt him. Jaskier presses against Geralt with the same fervour, kissing him almost violently; Geralt gives as good as he gets, sinking into the sensation.

When they pull away from each other’s mouths, Jaskier’s lips are bitten red and wet with spit. Geralt moves slightly and feels the odd but familiar heat shift inside him; judging from how Jaskier’s mouth falls open, he feels it too. Even after the aftershocks fade, Geralt doesn’t pull off just yet, enjoying the fullness and closeness. He bends down to kiss Jaskier again, and the bard reciprocates easily and readily. 

All those years bickering over petty, pointless nothings, when they could have been doing this instead.

“The next time there’s a monster, wake me up,” Geralt finally reproaches, punctuating the order by nipping Jaskier’s lip.

Jaskier nods, sluggish and satiated; then, because it’s Jaskier, he tacks on, “I handled it, though.”

“You got away with it this time, but you could have been in danger.”

“You like that I handled it,” accuses the bard. Geralt kisses the smirk off his face but can’t kiss away that smug edge in his voice. “You like that I can handle myself… and handle you, too.”

“As I recall, I handled you,” Geralt says. Jaskier laughs; it still sounds smug. The witcher hums thoughtfully.

He then rolls them over without warning, and ignores the resulting cry from his bard. He lowers his back onto Jaskier’s bedroll— like hell he’s staining his own bedroll with cum— and hooks his ankles around the man’s back, pushing Jaskier deeper inside. They both groan at that, and Jaskier lowers himself down without hesitation to loom over Geralt. “Shit,” he whines, bottomed out entirely inside the witcher again. “Fuck, how are you hard again?!”

“Takes a lot to tire me out,” grins Geralt. Truth be told, he doesn’t usually want this much— but Jaskier is having an unexpected effect on him. “You said you could handle me.”

“Might be the death of me, but I’ll certainly try,” huffs Jaskier. He holds Geralt up by his thighs and slowly pistons back and forth into him, pushing the load of cum already inside him even deeper. But he pauses as an idea strikes. Divine inspiration, or a gift from the muses; Jaskier talks about the concepts all the time, but Geralt hasn’t seen them really occur before. It is like glancing at the night sky and catching a comet. The man’s entire face lights up, and his tone is new as he says, “You know, I never told you about the one winter we had a pest infestation at Oxenfurt.”

Suddenly, Geralt knows precisely what he means. Trying to sit up, he protests, “You swore to me you won those extra vials of arachas venom in a game of Gwent!”

“I’m shit at Gwent, you should have seen right through that,” Jaskier laughs. He leans down, pressing Geralt back down against the mat and rocking his hips to push his length in deeper. “But the good part is that now I can tell you the whole story. In painstaking detail.”

“Oh,” breathes Geralt, quickly surrendering his anger and spreading his legs. His cock dribbles pre-cum between them. “... Yes, alright. Tell me the tale, Jaskier.”

[bardcore-jaskier]

♡ My thoughts on Veskier + headcanons ♡

- One of the rarest rare pairs in the Witcher fandom for sure! And guess what? I LOVE IT!!!

- They chose the perfect actor to play Vesemir in season 2! Kim Bodnia is a charismatic Danish actor with a charming accent, his performance was AMAZING!

- As of season 2, I personally am a bit cross with most characters in the series for the way they treated Jaskier. Geralt used Jaskier for his loyalty and his apology was shit, so Geraskier prompts/ideas don't come to me as quickly as they used to.

- Lauren went and killed off Eskel, so to cook up some Jaskel content it would have to be an AU where he doesn't die and would require a LOT of creativity not only to make it possible for him to be alive, but also mix and match his personality from video clips of his game counterpart on YouTube, since Eskel didn't get enough screen time on Netflix to show the entirety of his character.

- Lambert was an absolute dick to Jaskier, so Lambskier is rocky too, Lambskier's only saving grace is that Lambert and Jaskier didn't have a lot of scenes together, leaving a lot of room for thinking up ways in which those two could bond.

- WHICH BRINGS ME TO MY CURRENT FAVORITE JASKIER SHIPS: Yennskier (I already made a post about) and of course Veskier!

- Veskier, being a ship of a younger pretty man and an older witcher warrior, has mostly gotten attention from the extremely kinky side of the fandom. Daddy kink, BDSM, dom/sub, breeding kink and other kinks galore. Even more often, this ship is mixed with others in a M/M/M/M/M setting, you know, I know you know, we all have seen the witchersexual!Jaskier tag on AO3. And while I do enjoy a little well written smut from time to time, most of the Veskier fanfics out there do not quite suit my taste.

- Vesemir and our beloved, adorable, brilliant walking sunshine trouble maker of a bard, did not interact in season 2 at all, I doubt that they will ever, with both being side characters. HOWEVER, that makes this pairing FREE REAL ESTATE! Who is to say what is likely and what is not? Who is to say they won't work? Who is to say that they couldn't have gotten together at some point off screen?

- It makes me a little sad that people don't realize just how much potential there is with Veskier! Much like Yennskier, the theoretical romantic relationship between these two, at least going off of Netflix canon alone, would be surprisingly healthy and wholesome.

- Every time I imagine them together, I headcanon Jaskier as not entirely human. Either part-fae or of elder blood.

- Veskier is a perfect ship for emotional healing, for fluff, for the kinky side, for the crack, for happiness!

- FLUFF × CRACK × SMUT × HURT/COMFORT

Let me set the scene

- After Voleth Mier, Jaskier realizes that he somehow ended up in a situation where he lost his precious lute, became a wanted man in Oxenfurt (a city he considered his home), got tortured for information about his ex-bff, then said ex-bff came to bail him out of jail because he needed him, not for the sake of making amends, essentially using Jaskier to find Yennefer and then sending him off with Ciri as a glorified nanny. And here he is, at the top of another mountain, in Kaer Morhen, where Geralt is too busy with Ciri to talk while the other witchers are rude to him. He is penniless, injured, has nothing but the bloodied clothes on his back and is suffering from nightmares about Rience.

- Vesemir is a tired old man who has witnessed too much bloodshed in his lifetime. His body may be enhanced and therefore he doesn't feel the physical effects of aging (if at all) as much as he does the mental. All witchers were human at some point, he can actually feel the psychological toll of living much longer than humans are designed to. Still, he has to be strong as the master of the keep, to set an example and to be a dependable source of wisdom and guidance for his pups. He will never admit it out loud, but the things he has to deal with after Voleth Mier overwhelm him. There's Geralt's whole elder blood child surprise thing, constant repairs of a crumbling fortress, honoring and mourning the fallen witchers, processing the fact that new mutated mosters are appearing and they don't have the mutagens to create more of their kind to protect the continent and survive. There is nothing he can do about it except deal with the anxiety of knowing these stone cold facts.

- In this whole mess, two broken souls might just be what the other needs. Where Vesemir could do with a break, with a little joy, Jaskier is more than enough to help with that. And where Jaskier could do with being taken care of after everything he's been through, after everything he lost, Vesemir is a perfect candidate for that job. Their relationship would be yin and yang, balance and harmony personified.

- Honestly, please tell me that you see it too! They have a lot in common, Jaskier is a professor, mastered the seven liberal arts, grammar, logic, rhetoric, arithmetic, geometry, music, astronomy and according to canon, he passed every exam with flying colors!

- Vesemir is wise, he has lived for centuries, he has witnessed history, he was trained as an alchemist, has extensive knowledge about many things. He is a bottomless pit of knowledge.

- They could talk for hours together and never run out of topics to discuss.

- And the sex? OH BROTHER! Jaskier fucked his way across the continent countless times, while Vesemir is so ancient there is no way that he hadn't bedded a considerable amount of people. Yeah, the sex would be mind blowing I should think.

- Jaskier is a hopeless romantic and Vesemir is a traditional gentleman (when he is wooing the damsels, according to game!canon Lambert.) They would probably be very fluffy and affectionate with eachother. Verbose compliments, music, cuddling, kissing.

- LMAO, imagine everyone else's reaction!!!

- Geralt would be mortified seeing his friend making out with his father figure on the kitchen table 🤣🤣🤣

- The other witchers would probably feel uneasy, shocked at first too, until they get used to it. HAHA ONCE THEY DO LAMBERT IS GONNA FUCKING MILK IT

"Morning papa Vesemir, papa Jaskier"

- KAER MORONS!!!

- Also, the theoretical adventures a witty traveling part fae bard and a silverfox witcher could have, make me beyond giddy!

[junnyh-o]

Pinned!

About Me

Cassius Ashborn Fenrir

23

Polyam Nonbinary Butch Lesbian

BPD with a dash of adhd/autism

Stuff I Like

You'll see me rb a lot of shit, but i deeply enjoy:

Baldur's Gate 3

Destiny 2

Castlevania

Witcher

Darkest Dungeon

Many more I don't remember

Tags

Tags are broken btw. I can't fix em! Click the tag in search, then the tag on the posts to see everything!!

#Ref: References for writing/art or anything i deem important

#A reminder. for myself: Reminders for mental health

#*Insert Name* Behavior: Posts that remind me of my ocs! There's Rara, Reid, Doc, Lumi, Vera and Ashes (I have more, but these 6 are my faves)

For curious, there's more about my ocs under keep reading!

OCs

Rara, Reid, Doc are the protags of my wip book series: Of Gods and Mortals! Lumi and Vera are my DND OCs, Lumi being in a Star Guardian campaign and Vera in a Vermintide! Ashes is my BG3 Durge~

Rara (she/her): Most tired and done witch in the world. Monster slayer with a huge passion for cooking. A softie underneath that armor.

Reid (she/her): Silver tongued former pirate with an ego that would put the gods to shame. Femme fatale but make her a butch. Secretly a dork AND a nerd.

Doc (she/her): Your grumpy, neurotic doctor who has seen too much. Feels like she's a wolf in sheep's clothing. Hater of gods.

Lumi (he/they/she): The irritable smart asshole with a god complex. Wicked observant, reads people like a book. The most non magical girl-y magical girl.

Vera (she/her): Softest and sweetest paladin you'll ever meet. Would move the mountains and conquer the seas to protect you. So, so, emotional and caring.

Ashes (they/she): A somber, stoic paladin who seems... A bit off. Extremely devoted to their girlfriend, would do anything for her, and destroy the whole world if someone dared to hurt her. Tries so hard to be soft and gentle with bloodied hands.

Note: Vera and Ashes are each other's unintended mirrors! Reid and Lumi on the other hand would be each other's (sorta) mirrors.

[hardleyquinnn]

Febuwhump Day 3: Muzzled

Winter was drawing close, and Geralt was cutting it close. He still had two full days' rides before reaching the base of the mountain, and at that point the climb would be perilous.

He kept his thoughts focused on his own room, or sitting near the warm hearth, trading stories of their time away from the keep.  He shrugged his shoulders, shifting his cloak closer around himself, as he spotted a town. As much as he'd rather ride straight through towards Kaer Morhen, he detoured slightly to the posting board, sending out a silent prayer that there would be no pressing contracts, forcing him to sacrifice more of his already dwindling travel time.

Approaching the notice board, his heart began to lift as the few papers pinned were nothing he'd have to concern himself with.  Squeezing his legs around to urge Roach forward, he passed right by the town.  He mapped out the road ahead in his mind. There was a nice clearing a few miles from here, but if he could push through, he recalled an alcove that had kept him deceptively warm through the night.

As he debated on whether he could bribe Roach into making it to the alcove, he heard faint shouting.

"Witcher!"

Shit

He pulled the reins, causing Roach to stop and snort. She was desperate to get to the keep too, and he made note to give her extra apples through winter. He turned her slightly, twisting the rest of the way to see a young girl running as fast as she could towards him.

"Witcher! Please!" She gestured wildly back to the town, gasping for breath. "You have to help! There's a monster! You have to come quick!"

Steeling himself for a harsher climb up The Killer, he turned Roach fully around, much to her resistance, and rode back towards the town. The little girl ran after him.

He rode through the gate, quickly dismounting, and looked towards the child for direction, but somewhere along the way she had vanished. He tied Roach to a nearby pole and backtracked, thinking he had lost her on the way back.  He'd made it several steps before he heard a twang, and whooshing through the air. He was halfway through his turn before the arrow landed in his bicep. Cursing, he looked in the direction it must have been sent from, he could just pick up heavy breathing and a fast heartbeat. He focused on the surrounding area for more ambushers and could make out about a dozen more in various hiding spots.

Shit he should have kept riding.

He drew his sword, right before another twang.

Twang twang twang.

Bows fired from all directions at once. Blocking 2 from his left, another from his right, one landed in his thigh, another above his shoulder blade and he cursed. He needed to leave.

A scream rang out behind him and he spun around, his vision blurring slightly. Shit. Shit. Shit. He swung his sword less gracefully than he'd meant to, and quickly disarmed the woman who had charged him.  He shoved her backwards, nothing terribly harmful for her, but giving himself enough time to make a run for Roach without her trying anything else, when a knife slid into his side. He cursed again, and grabbed for the wielder, turning to face the child from before. She was terrified as she tried to dislodge his grip, tears streaming down her face.

Gods above. He dragged the child in front of him, back to the empty houses. He went to raise his sword to the child, intending on using her to get as far from the town as he needed, before releasing her and making straight for Kaer Morhen.  Something stopped his arm from rising, his sword fell from his grip and he stumbled.

Fuck's sake. he thought as he fell to his knees, into darkness.

When he woke, the stench of defecation and death greeted him. He clenched his jaw, opening his eyes to assess the situation.

He knelt on the floor, his arms chained to a ring between his legs. His feet had also been shackled together. The arrows had been removed, and the marks stank of rot. Instead of healing as he'd slept, they'd festered and grown infected.

Surveying his surroundings proved unhelpful. It was pitch black. He was in a small cell, his back towards the only door in the room. It was cold and damp, and there was definitely a rotting corpse in the corner to his right.

He tugged on his bindings a few times, testing them. They stayed firm.

He tried to take a deep breath, but the overwhelming stench of rot made it hard to find any peace in it. He exhaled, attempting to fall into some kind of meditation.

He opened his eyes when he picked up footsteps down the hall. They stopped in front of his door, the jingling of a key ring, the noise of it fitting into the lock, turning. The door groaned with disuse. Geralt sat perfectly still facing the wall, listening to two heartbeats, one beating a normal rhythm, the other a much faster one.

"Go on" a voice said, and the fast heart beat picked up speed. The stutter of hesitant footsteps stepped around him, giving him a wide berth.

Before he had a chance to see the owner, he picked up a scent. It was the girl. She walked into his field of vision, a fragile determination on her face.

She held a muzzle in her hands.

How much were they willing to make this child do? he thought angrily.

"Witcher," the man behind him spoke again, "As we are sanctioned by the Church of the Eternal Fire, you so are seen as a blight on these lands, and must be purged"

A rustle of fabric and the child stepped towards Geralt.

Geralt looked towards the girl, and she flinched back, looking at the man behind him.

An exasperated noise, followed by furious footsteps. The man appeared in his field of vision, snatching the muzzle from the girl, who quickly stepped out of the way of the man.

At his approach, Geralt pulled as much as he could at the bindings, growling out as he did so, "try it and lose the hand." The man grimaced, but his heartbeat picked up.  He lifted the muzzle, and the girl stepped around, once again taking it into her hands.

The man stepped around behind him. Geralt sensed him reaching out, twisting away, but the man gripped the hair at the back of his head and pulled. He glared up at the man, as he was handed back the muzzle, and it was shoved onto Geralt's face. A bit was forced into his mouth, and his taste and smell was suddenly overwhelmed with fear. It had been used before, most likely barely washed. His head was then shoved forward, and the straps tightened around his head.  The leather pulled at his cheeks, and some hair was caught in a constant tight pull till it was ripped out entirely.

Satisfied, the man turned and strode out, stopping at the door, prompting the child to scurry after him.

The door was closed.

The torch carried away.

Geralt was once again in complete darkness.

He closed his eyes and breathed.

Weeks passed in silent darkness. It was impossible to tell the exact time, but as the room grew steadily colder, he knew winter had come.

His brothers would be up the mountain by now. Vesemir, greeting them at the gate. A trip to the hot springs to wash off The Path. Vesemir's cooking, drinks around the fire, then to bed in their respective rooms.

He wondered what they thought of his absence. Did they think he perished, or simply was spending the winter away with no notice?

He had been so close to being up there with them, spending the winter sparring and training, doing various chores, upkeep for the crumbling place he called home.

It was then that he thought, maybe he wouldn't be getting out of here. Days without sign of any other life. They weren't planning on keeping him nourished. They were planning on starving him to death. Or more likely he would die from dehydration.

A pang went through him, not from his death, but that he die in this village basement, instead of on The Path. He had thought he had another winter at The Keep. Time still with his family.

In this abandoned room, far from any prying eyes, Geralt rested his head on top of his hands against the ground, and came as close to crying as he could.

As weeks must have turned to months, Geralt meditated for as much of it as he could.

As he knelt, cold and shivering, he heard footsteps. Dread filled his heart, but he'd already accepted his death. Hope didn't even occur.

Light shone under the door, it was opened, and a silhouette appeared on the wall in front of him.

"It is time Witcher"

Two people walked into the room.

Geralt knelt there.

They unlocked the cuffs from his hands, placing new ones unattached to the floor. They dragged his limp body out of the room, down corridors and up a flight of stairs.  They reached a door, opened it, and Geralt was greeted with the outside. It was freezing, and there was a pyre built, but it was beautiful. Geralt breathed the fresh air deeply.

For all they had been trying to kill, or weaken him, the relief of seeing the outside again was wonderful.

They dragged him out and towards the pyre, tying him to it. In the back of his mind he realized he should have been trying to escape, but he had accepted his death here, at the hands of this village.

He rested his head against the pole he was tied to, looking out over the crowd. Everyone was either preparing it to be lit, or eagerly waiting. He spotted the woman who had tried to stab him. Beside her, a small girl, clutching her own skirts and looking down. Geralt focused on her bent head, and though his vision was still impaired from the bright light of day, he'd swear he saw a tear fall, disappearing into the mud.

The man who seemed to be in charge of it all stepped forward, and began to spew some cultish bullshit about witchers and magic, but Geralt didn't want to spend his last moments listening to some lunatic. He looked out over the heads of the crowd, straight into Lambert's horrified face.

He'd had hallucinations of his family in the dark, but he hadn't expected to see them out in the daylight.

Geralt squinted as Eskel pulled up beside Lambert's horse, just as Lambert jumped off it. He met Eskel's gaze, before he too dismounted. Geralt thought of his brothers, safe and warm in Kaer Morhen, and let his head lull to his chest.

"Geralt you moron, don't give up now"

His head shot up. He'd never hallucinated their voices before, let alone so clearly.

Lambert and Eskel rushed into the already dispersing crowd, shoving past anyone who did not run fast enough.

The man shouted for the crowd to stay, that they were doing what they were supposed to be doing, and would be protected. Lambert's sword slid in and out of him quickly, and he collapsed to the ground.

Eskel climbed the kindling and cut his bindings, supporting his weight when he collapsed.

"I've got you, Wolf, I've got you." Geralt raised his hand, and clasped Eskel's arm.

Real

Eskel helped him down off the pyre, supporting all his weight, as Lambert stayed alert and ready to fight off anyone.

Geralt watched Lambert's head swivel, and followed his direction to the young girl, hiding, but watching them. When Geralt met her eyes, she hesitantly came out of hiding, glancing at Lambert, before rushing to Geralt.

He pretended he didn't tense up to see her running up to him, and Eskel pretended he didn't notice, he did strengthen his hold however.

The girl stopped in front of him, and pointed at her mouth, then at his. The muzzle. What had been the point of the muzzle if they were just going to leave him down there?

He leant and Eskel helped him down to her height. She reached up unbuckling the straps, and gently removed the muzzle. She dropped it to the ground, then reached up, and gently touched the skin the leather had been pressed into. It had rubbed him raw, and he twitched as her hand touched it.  She stared into his eyes for a moment, then reached down, grabbed his hand, and began to pull. She began to lead him towards the horses, and Eskel, Lambert, and Geralt exchanged a glance.

We're not taking a child with us

She's taking us with her

We're not the kind of company a child should have

We'll drop her in the next town over, find a nice home, whatever, let's just get out of here.

The four of them made their way to the horses, Eskel and Geralt on one, Lambert and the girl on the other. As they rode away, Geralt took a deep breath of fresh air, for the first time in months, uninhibited by a mask that never quite stopped stinking of fear. He breathed in deep, and smelled mud, trees, snow, and the faintest hint of burning.

[jeanblack2056]

Burn Butcher Burn and my bone to pick with it:

Don't take me wrong, that song is great and I love it, but the last few months I've been thinking about how out of character it is for our sweet, kind, loyal, even if a bit petty bard, to actually use the name Butcher.

He would've written the song, of course he would - angst is what fuels the best of us. But singing it repeatedly everywhere? Making it famous so that people could sing along? I just feel like it doesn't really fit. I've had a bad friendship breakup this spring and I still wouldn't call them by a slur connected with such a deep wound.

In my last fic I used the word f*cker instead, because I think he would still like a breakup song and Geralt deserves to sit in a tavern and hear it knowing damn well why is a f*cker and that it has nothing to do with the Blaviken shit.

[dreamofbecoming]

amazing to me how much geralt’s vibes are carried by the two little pieces of hair in the front that get let out of the ponytail

like

this guy?

revolting. hideous. definitely runs an insurance claims department and gets off denying payments for sick kids

but this?

300/10 could get it. sexy as hell. would pull over to help u change ur tire on the side of the highway and give u his number in case u ever need help without once hitting on u or being skeezy

go-to guy for frat bros looking to lace the drinks at their parties. multiple accounts banned from tinder for harassment. horrible little man.

stunning. ethereal. is it lust? is it gender envy? yeah probably! who cares, when we can just stare at him instead of figuring it out!

nightmare. fox news commentator. lucius malfoy procreated with a spy kids thumb.

my husband. my muse. the printout i’ll hand to my top surgeon.

it’s all in the bangs. too much forehead and the sexy drains right out of him like a paper cup that got left out too long and started to dissolve. incredible.

[catscraftsandcommentary]

More The Witcher/Discworld AU ideas

So Geralt amd Jaskier roll up to Lancre, as they do. Geralt goes to check the town notice board (aka nail in a post for when the mail coach comes through). Meanwhile Jaskier takes his lute to the one tavern in the flyspeck village huddled on the outskirts of a rather underwhelming castle.

He's just agreed to play a few songs for his and Geralt's supper, with the possibility that someone in town will find them a spare bed, or at least a dry barn to sleep in, when a cheery old woman asks him if he knows "the Hedgehog song, it's me favorite!"

He does not - yet - but he loves learning new songs. By the time Geralt enters the tavern, Jaskier is best friends forever (TM) with one Nanny Ogg, and they are in an unofficial contest to see who knows the most - and the filthiest - brothel songs imaginable.

Jaskier is ashamed to say that he might be losing. He's a little bit in love.

Nanny takes one look at the six foot plus of heavily muscled, even more heavily armed and armored, and disapproving Witcher and promptly trills "coo-ee! Is this your young man, then! He's a handsome one, innt he? Is he as strong as he looks?"

"Stronger," Jaskier confides, smirking. "And he can keep going all night."

Jas you horrible lech

Geralt looks like he swallowed a lemon.

"Ooh, I remember those days. O' course, some o' them weren't that long ago!" She leers at them both and produces a bottle from somewhere - Geralt does not want to think where - and three tiny glasses appear on the table, courtesy of a passing barmaid. "Have a drink with me! It's apples - well, mostly apples."

By the time Jaskier has played himself out, eaten a solid meal, and drunk entirely too much of the alarmingly strong apple liquor, Nanny has successfully cornered his Witcher at her table and given him a rather larger glass of the apple scumble. He's drooping on Geralt's free shoulder when the tavern door opens and another woman swoops in, heading directly for their table.

Or rather, for their companion.

"Gytha Ogg. You should know better."

"Oh, Esme."

Long story short, Geralt is "allowed" to hunt the wyvern in the mountains, in return for which Nanny's son reshoes Roach and resilvers all his blades, Nanny gifts him several bottles of scumble, and they spend two nights at the castle with "our Magrat." Geralt finds the entire experience deeply odd and is glad to leave. Jaskier has been all but adopted by Nanny and has been given - of all things - a pair of cookbooks to take with him.

(Oh yes, she went there.)

***

I need Aiden chasing human!Greebo because REASONS, okay, just go with me on this.

So yes, Lambert and Aiden end up in Lancre, despite or more likely because of Geralt's warnings that the place is deeply, deeply strange but not actually hostile. Also, it has a damn good smith, and that's a useful thing for a Witcher.

They offer to go hunting in the woods - just regular hunting, not monster hunting - to fill up the castle's stores, since Queen Magrat is being kind enough to give them shelter and meals. She graciously accepts.

(Better them than that lanky boy who tried learning martial arts from a book, ye gods. What is this place?)

Which is where they startle Greebo on his own hunting trip. An ancient, scarred, one eyed tomcat who just took down a stag and looks very unhappy to be interrupted.

The Witchers flank the hissing cat, swords cautiously drawn, and the yowls become yells, the claws become hands, and what the fuck IS THIS PLACE --

Lambert and Aiden forget about the stag in light of the completely unexpected and very naked shapeshifter and give chase. Through dense forest, steep mountains, across a gorge, back into town, over several roofs, in and out of a few barns, around and through the tumbledown battlements of the castle, and finally up the halls into the royal family's wing.

Where the creature dives into the princess's bedroom.

Oh shit oh no oh shit

They go racing after it, expecting to be greeted with screams of terror (a naked man just ran into the princess's bedroom!) but instead --

Instead --

Queen Magrat - tiny, soppy, sweet Queen Magrat - snarls at them and pulls a shortsword when they come thundering into her daughter's bedroom, swords drawn. "Drop. Your. Swords."

"Ah - the man - "

Aiden looks around. The tiny princess is halfway under her bed, and he can hear muffled cries of "here kitty kitty!" and joyful laughter.

"The cat. He's Nanny's, and Greebo loves her. She feeds him entirely too much."

The Witchers slowly lower their swords, and as they do, their medallions stop humming with danger. The child squirms back out from under the bed, an enormous gray cat clutched to her chest, and Magrat makes her own sword disappear into her mending pile.

"Mama look! Mister Kitty!"

Greebo's head fits just under little Margaret's chin and his back paws rest on the floor, but the look he gives the other three is pure arrogance. "I'm exactly where I want to be and you can't move me" it says. Then he starts purring.

The next morning, a dead stag is left outside the castle's main gate.

***

Lambert didn't actually do anything last time, and he'd be perfect for this next idea, so guess what.

(I would like to apologize in advance to all Lambert fans. He's actually one of my faves, and I constantly want to hug the shit out of him, but he's in for a ride.)

So Lambert is wandering through a place called the the Downs, or maybe the Chalk? All flat grassland, lots of sheep, little farms, that kind of shit. Kind of pretty, in a very flat, grassy way.

Eventually he hears about sheep disappearing. Except it's not the usual "carried off by winged monsters" or "disemboweled in the fields" it's more...zooming off with their legs completely still and a very confused expression.

That's...a new one. But what the fuck. He's a Witcher. He can handle it.

So he spends a few nights (and days) with the flocks, watching carefully for any sheep that wander too far or suddenly move without fucking moving.

When he finally does spot something, he has to look closely. Several times. There are tiny, red haired, blue skinned men, wearing kilts and carrying swords, and each tiny man is lifting one hoof of a very confused and unhappy sheep.

He gets just close enough to draw his sword - silver, since he doesn't know what these are and he's not taking any chances - when something impacts his head from behind and everything goes dark.

He wakes the next morning, wondering if it was a dream, but there's a lingering scent of alcohol and grease that doesn't belong to him or the sheep. And he recognizes when someone has tried to sweep away their footprints, even if it is apparently on a tiny scale.

He tracks the odor to a burrow which appears to be a rabbit den but sounds and smells like a small, buried city. With hints of roast mutton.

As he draws closer, the burrow erupts with dozens - no, hundreds - of the tiny men, all of them armed and angry and aimed at him.

Lambert goes down - fighting, swearing, and killing as many of them as he can, but he does go down. Though oddly, they only disarm him and tie him up before they drag him through the narrow entrance.

Inside is dark and smoky. A short, impossibly fat woman waddles up to him and gives him a measuring look. "Ach, ye'd be one of the warrior hags Mistress Weatherwax sent word of. Well, I have a job for ye an' me boys."

And that's how Lambert meets the Nac Mac Feegle and learns several new swear words.

I have had A Thought, and now I have an Important Question.

How much crossover is there between the Discworld and the Witcher fandoms?

Because you CANNOT TELL ME that (if Geralt and Jaskier ever wandered into Lancre accidentally) Nanny would not IMMEDIATELY try to adopt this adorable little bard and set him up with one of her dozens of daughters. Probably while groping Geralt's biceps and offering him a glass of scumble.

("It's apples! Well...mostly apples.")

(Never drink Nanny's scumble.)

The old woman in the corner (where Geralt would LIKE to sit, actually) is giving him a piercing stare that reminds him uncomfortably of Vesemir when he knows that Geralt is hiding something. He doesn't know who she is, but everyone nods respectfully to her and a few greet her with "Mistress."

He'll just tell his brothers to steer clear of this strange valley when he gets home this winter...especially after the vicious hangover from the apple drink from the grabby old woman - apparently she's the blacksmith's mother? A good smith, at least.

...except, of course, Lambert thought he was JOKING about the whole weirdness, so he and Aiden wander in the following spring. They startle a one-eyed cat while out hunting a stag (what cat - a literal cat, not a cat witcher - tries to hunt a fucking STAG?!?) and it turns into a man and attacks them. Then runs off through the forest. The hell IS this place.

[ihyperfixatedtoohard]

Jaskier is my emotional support Punching Bag,

and Geralt is my emotional support Feel Guilty, Bitch.

[asweetprologue]

from what i’ve tasted of desire

first post season 2 fic! of course I immediately wrote a fix-it, because these boys still haven’t talked about their feelings. needless to say, this contains spoilers for season 2 and the season 2 finale in particular. 

read on ao3

~

Jaskier’s coat has a hole in it.

After everything, it should be trivial. The bodies of half the remaining witchers—Geralt’s brothers, his family—are laid across the tables in the main hall. The grey stone is stained with black streaks where they fell, like the veined marble of a mausoleum floor. Beyond the doors, he can see Ciri sitting on the broken rampart, Yennefer leaning close, their heads bent together. Exhaustion and grief press close and heavy around them all.

It shouldn’t matter that his jacket has a hole in it. He’s not hurt. He’s alive, and so is Yen, and Ciri, and—and he’s fine. Compared to what everyone else has been through, no hurts or discomforts of his should even register.

But. This is his only coat. The only thing he owns, really. Geralt plucked him out of that cell and he’s only got what’s on his back: one pair of trousers, a couple of shit boots not meant for the road, one shirt with a badly patched ax hole in it, a tattered vest, and one coat with a massive tear running from the small of his back and halfway up to his right armpit, bursting the seam. He’s lucky that whatever tore the heavy leather open didn’t tear him open with it.

He makes his way back to his room that evening with heavy feet. He knows he should have stayed, probably, to help everyone clean up longer and maybe sing to lift their spirits. But he doesn’t have a lute anymore, and he’s so tired.

The room he found for himself is small, and on the outside wall of the keep. There’s a crack in the ceiling to the right of the bed, and when he looks directly up he can see three pinpricks of light against the blackness of the northern sky. The mountain chill seeps into the room insidiously; he’s only glad it isn’t snowing. Still, the moth eaten blanket he’d rustled up does little against the cold, and his thrice damned fucking coat has a fucking hole in it. He can feel the chill against his back when he curls his feet up under the blanket. He doesn’t have any socks. They’d worn out on the way to Kaer Morhen and he’d finally had to throw them out.

Gods above, it’s fucking cold.

After tossing and shivering for an hour, Jaskier finally pulls himself out of the bed with a groan, dragging the blanket with him. Maybe if he can find a lit hearth somewhere he can get warm enough to pass out. After a moment of hesitation he grabs the bottle on the nightstand. There isn’t enough left in it to knock him out—thanks for nothing, Jaskier of yesterday—but maybe it will at least warm him up. His bones ache with the cold, and his bare feet burn where they touch the icy stone.

There’s still a fire burning in the main hall, but that’s not happening. People might still be there, and the room smells like iron and ozone. He stands in the hallway for a moment, chewing his lip in thought. Maybe the lab, though he isn’t sure it would be that much warmer. Maybe he could just find another room? He wishes, for a fervent moment, that he could just go find Geralt. His fingers are stiff where they hold the thin blanket around his shoulders, and the barely healed burns along his index and middle finger ache along his joints. If he could just find Geralt and curl up next to him with the excuse of warmth, maybe this would all be alright. He knows he shouldn’t want that anymore, because Geralt left him and he’s barely apologized and Yen is back and he told himself he wouldn’t do this anymore, but—

He’s so cold.

The kitchens. There’s an idea.

He makes his way quietly through the halls, though he has no doubt that if any witchers are awake they’ll hear him moving about. The kitchens are tucked off of the main hall, far enough away that he can’t hear whether people are still moving about in there. He doesn’t want to know, entering through the old servants’ entrance in the hall instead. The kitchens of Kaer Morhen are large, as they would be in any keep, but clearly under-utilised. Several work tables line the long room, but only the one at the far end has cooking utensils left on it. Various herbs and spices hang from the ceiling, alongside dark pots and pans worn lopsided with age. On the far end of the room, the hearth emits a gentle glow that has Jaskier sighing in relief.

The fire is banked; only glowing embers remain. A small pile of wood sits next to the fireplace, and Jaskier eyes them warily. He should add a few to the embers, get a real fire going to warm himself up. But his fingers burn, and the memory of a flame licking up the side of his palm and the thick smell of his skin bubbling makes him hesitate. It’s warmer here already. Instead, he sits against the warm stone of the hearth and digs his teeth into the cork of his bottle.

The wine goes too quickly, but it does leave him feeling slightly warmer, fuzzy around the edges. The stone against his back isn’t too cold, but the floor is freezing. He tries to arrange his worthless coat underneath himself, wishing he still had his traveling gear. A bedroll would do him wonders right now. He’s still shivering a bit, and he can’t feel his toes. He should add another log to the fire, but he’s just… tired. He wants to sleep, and forget how heavy and empty he feels for a moment.

He dozes fitfully, for a time. He can’t say why he wakes, but when he does it’s with a racing pulse. For a moment he doesn’t know where he is or what woke him—a flame dancing on the tip of a finger fills his mind—and he flails. A hand catches around his wrist, and it’s so warm he shudders almost violently. “Jaskier,” Geralt says, and Jaskier stills.

He blinks a few times to orient himself, and finds Geralt crouched on the floor in front of him. “Geralt,” he says, adrenalin flashing through his veins and chasing away some of his exhaustion. “What’s wrong?”

“Why are you in here?” Geralt asks, eyebrows pulled low over his unsettling eyes. Jaskier’s stomach turns over nervously.

“Sorry,” he says, swallowing. “I—If you need me to leave—”

Geralt is still holding his wrist. It’s unbearably distracting, burning against his cold skin. Geralt shakes his head. “It’s fine, Jaskier. I just wanted to make sure you’re alright. I was in the hall, I heard someone come in here. Thought it might be Ciri.”

Of course he didn’t come just to check on Jaskier. He forces down his disappointment with age old practice. “Of course,” he says, finally pulling his wrist from Geralt’s grasp. Geralt lets him go easily, and it hurts as much as it ever did. “Well, I’m fine, thank you.”

“Why are you in the kitchens?” Geralt asks, and eyes the empty bottle to Jaskier’s side. “Raiding the wine stores?”

“I did that yesterday. Most of it’s poison,” he grumbles. “I was cold. If you must know.” He wants to snap it, feels irritated enough, but instead it just comes out hoarse and tired. He leans his head back against the wall behind him and wishes the fire was warmer. “My room has a hole in the ceiling.”

“Most of them do,” Geralt points out. “You should wear something warmer to bed.”

Jaskier raises a hand to press his palm to the center of his forehead. “I’ll keep that in mind next time,” he says dryly. “Point me in the direction of the nearest seamstress and I’ll be sure to ask for a pair of her thickest woollen socks. In the meantime, I’m afraid I’m making do with what I’ve got.”

Geralt is quiet for a moment. Jaskier has his eyes closed, but he can feel the witcher’s heavy gaze on him. He refuses to meet it. “You should have said something.”

Now Jaskier does open his eyes, if only to glare. Geralt is soft in the low light of the flickering embers, his eyes dark honey. A cloying feeling rises in Jaskier’s chest, and he wants it to be hate but he fears it’s something else entirely. “And when was I supposed to do that?” he asks sharply. “Before or after your Child Surprise got possessed and murdered half the people who live here? Somewhere on the road between Cintra and Kaedwin? Should I have asked my jailer before we left Oxenfurt? Or maybe I should have thought to pack a bag before I was—” He stops, biting his tongue.

Geralt’s mouth twists. So beautiful, Jaskier thinks with despair, and he hates himself. He hates all of this. He hates that he’s in this stupid drafty dead keep in a coat that has a hole in it. He hates that Ciri hasn’t said more than two words to him since they met. He hates that his lute is gone, even though he couldn’t play it anyways right now with his hands as they are. He hates that Yennefer is easy to get along with, that her hands fit so nicely in his, that he can’t dislike her easily anymore. He hates that Geralt speaks in kind, soft words to Ciri and speaks so plainly to Yen, because why, why couldn’t he ever do that with Jaskier? And he hates that he’s so weak, that he’s here again after he told himself he’d never fall back into all this bullshit, because Geralt said I need your help and Jaskier is weak and wanting. He always has been.

For a moment Geralt looks like he’s going to say something, and then he stands. Jaskier feels something like relief, and also much like grief, leaving him cold and exhausted. But then a hand is thrust down into his face. Jaskier blinks at it and then looks up at Geralt. He wonders if the wine was stronger than he thought, because Geralt is looking at him expectantly and Jaskier can’t for the life of him imagine what he wants from him. He never could figure out what Geralt fucking wants. “Come on,” Geralt says, wiggling his fingers. Jaskier reaches up and takes them on automatic, his head buzzing with empty static.

Geralt’s hand is so warm, almost painfully so, and as he pulls Jaskier to his feet the burns on his fingers drag against old callouses. He hisses, and Geralt reaches for his elbow as Jaskier pulls his hand away to shake it out. “You’re hurt,” Geralt says, all soft eyes and concern. Jaskier wants to scream.

“It’s nothing,” he says, unable to stop himself from holding his injured hand to his chest. It’s not serious. It’s been weeks since the mage, even though at times Jaskier still feels like he’s back in that room, pinned down like an ant under a magnifying glass. His fingers have mostly healed. The blisters broke and scabbed over while he was in the little cell in Oxenfurt, and he was lucky they didn’t get infected. His pointer finger especially is still red and raw around the tip, the underside right where he would pluck the strings of his lute, if he had one. Yennefer has her magic back, so he might even be able to ask her to remove the tender, shiny skin so he can play easily again. He just… hasn’t had a chance to ask.

Geralt pulls his hand towards him, and Jaskier is powerless to resist him. His palm falls open, bare for Geralt’s inspection. “These are old,” Geralt says, surprised. He runs a finger across the burns, gentle. Jaskier resists a shiver.

“Two weeks,” Jaskier admits, not pulling his hand back. There’s no point. “I thought Yennefer told you.”

Geralt’s face is blank for a moment, and then shifts subtly—just a tension in his jaw, around his eyes. Jaskier doesn’t think anyone else would recognize it. Or maybe that’s not true, and he only wishes it were. “She told me you ran into trouble in Oxenfurt. With the firefucker. Damn it Jaskier.”

“I didn’t tell him anything,” Jaskier says, peevishly. “Not that I had much to tell.”

“That’s not what I—” Geralt shakes his head. His shoulders are squared off as if for a fight, but he’s careful as he cradles Jaskier’s fragile fingers. “Come on,” he says again, his other hand pulling to guide Jaskier along by his elbow.

He doesn’t know where they’re going. Geralt leads him from the kitchen and down several halls, up a flight of stairs, beyond the little niche where Jaskier’s derelict room is located. He’s only been in the keep for less than seventy two hours, and it truly is a maze. The wine probably doesn’t help. By the time Geralt has led them down the third hall, Jaskier is well and truly lost.

They finally stop in front of a heavy door, which Geralt promptly pushes open. This part of the keep is in better repair; most of the sconces are lit, and a few dusty tapestries cover the stone walls to keep out the cold that seeps relentlessly from them. The room that Geralt drags him into is dark, but a moment later it springs into shape around them as Geralt twists his fingers into a quick igni. Jaskier does his best not to flinch.

The room is only barely bigger than the one Jaskier left, but it’s better outfitted. A soft fur rug covers the floor, another spread out on the four poster bed. A high wooden table sits against the back wall, the pool of melted wax around its unlit candle threatening its other occupants—loose papers, several quills, an old tome, some empty bottles. Geralt’s armor rests on a stand in the corner, his swords resting in their scabbards against the wall nearby. A tall armoire sits against the closest wall, but Jaskier can see several articles of clothing strewn carelessly about the room—a shirt on the back of the desk chair, a pair of boots next to the foot of the bed, one knocked on its side. This, Jaskier realizes suddenly, is Geralt’s room. The realization wakes him up more than anything else that has thus far transpired, chasing the last of the wine from his blood.

“What—” he starts, not even sure what he’s about to ask. Geralt doesn’t wait, pushing him to sit on the bed while he goes over to the armoire. “Geralt,” Jaskier says, almost distracted by the relief of the warm rug under his freezing toes. “What are you doing?”

Geralt doesn’t respond, only humming softly as he digs through the wardrobe. Jaskier huffs, pulling his knees up to his chest so he can dig his numb toes into the warm furs covering the bed. The room is already warming up with the fire going, and despite his curiosity he can feel himself growing drowsy. His eyes flutter shut of their own accord, only to snap open when something hits him full in the face. He splutters as it drops into his hands, and Geralt’s warm, grovely laugh fills the small space.

“What’s this?” Jaskier asks, spreading the fabric.

Geralt is already turning back to the wardrobe, pulling out a few more items. “It’s a shirt,” he says, voice still loose with amusement. “One that hasn’t been used for target practice.”

“Hilarious,” Jaskier deadpans as Geralt dumps another bundle of cloth into his lap. He tosses the pants aside in favor of the shirt, laying it out so he can start shucking his coat and vest. As he does so, he glances over the proffered loans, expecting to see worn out shirts patched from old fights. Instead he sees a neat cotton undershirt with a high collar and embroidery across the shoulders. The pattern is familiar, a floral motif—

Jaskier stops halfway out of his vest. “Hold on. Is this… mine?”

Geralt also freezes where he’s still digging through the wardrobe, holding one sock in hand like he’s been caught stealing it. He winces. “Erm. Got left behind in my things a while ago.”

“Several years ago,” Jaskier corrects. “These trousers are mine too! Why do you have these? Have you been stealing my good clothes all these years?”

Geralt turns away, head ducked low as he apparently becomes invested in his search for the other sock. “Not my fault you left them in my bags,” he mutters.

“Why do you still have them?” Jaskier wonders aloud. They would never fit Geralt, not with his broad shoulders. He strips his own shirt off, and immediately grimaces. He’d love to burn it, but he can’t afford to, unless Geralt is hiding a few more of his lost wardrobe pieces in there. He quickly changes into the new shirt, sighing in relief at the feel of clean, warm cotton against his skin. He stands to quickly change into the pants, which are worn soft with age. He remembers using them to sleep on the Path, what feels like a lifetime ago.

Geralt finally steps back to the bed as Jaskier sits down again. The fire has warmed the air of the room significantly, but without his coat, patchy though it may be, Jaskier finds himself suppressing shivers again. “It didn’t feel right to get rid of them,” Geralt says, shifting slightly from foot to foot. “I liked…”

“Liked what?” Jaskier asks. Geralt huffs, as if frustrated, and drops to his knees before the bed. Jaskier has a truly terrible moment where he nearly spreads his thighs open on instinct, a frankly implausible wave of arousal rising in him. He presses his knees together tightly, but Geralt isn’t even looking. He’s reaching down to cup Jaskier’s ankle in one hand, pulling his foot forward. Jaskier watches, aghast, as Geralt gently slides first one, and then the other sock onto his feet. They’re warm, and surprisingly soft. Once he’s done, Geralt smooths his hands up behind Jaskier’s calves. He leans his forehead against Jaskier’s knees, like a worshiper coming to prayer. Jaskier doesn’t know what to do; he feels as frozen and immovable as a statue in a temple.

“I’m sorry,” Geralt says, hushed. Jaskier swallows, and the sound is embarrassingly loud in the quiet room. “I know I said it before, but… I’m sorry, Jask. Not just for the mountain. For everything.” He lifts his head, looking up to meet Jaskier’s stunned gaze. “I’m sorry I didn’t see you. I’m sorry I’m still not.” One of his hands pulled away from Jaskier’s calf to hover over his burnt fingers where they’re clenched tightly in the bedsheets. “I missed you.”

Mortifyingly, Jaskier feels his eyes burning. His vision blurs, obscuring the image of Geralt’s open, pleading face. He turns his face up towards the ceiling, trying to keep any tears from falling. “You know,” he says thickly, “when that fire fucker had me tied up to a chair, he kept asking me where you were. And I was relieved, because you never cared enough to show me your home. I wanted you to ask me to come here with you, for years. But you never did, and I was glad because if you had I would have known where you were, where Ciri was. And I thought, isn’t that pathetic, that I’m so happy you cared about me so little, because I still didn’t want to be the reason you got hurt.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt says, hoarse, but now that he’s speaking Jaskier can’t stop. It’s like it’s cracked him open, and his mouth is moving so quickly he barely knows what he’s saying.

“You left me on a mountaintop. You told me you never wanted to see me again. And you were always—You were always so closed off, and I thought, that’s just how Geralt is, he’s reserved, that’s fine, but it’s not even like that. You talk to Yen, I’ve seen you with Ciri and Vesemir. You just didn’t like talking to me, is that it? We’ve known each other for twenty years. I spent half my life following you around, and you never even told me that you thought I was your friend. I’m sorry I’m always the one getting you into shit situations, I’m sorry I asked you to come with me to the ball and I’m sorry I fucked up with the djinn and I’m sorry I elbowed my way into your life and didn’t leave you alone and that you hated me there so much. But you’re the one who came to find me, alright, so don’t go blaming it on me this time. I don’t even want to be here. I don’t.” He pants, chest heaving. He looks down at Geralt, whose face is carefully blank aside from the slight wrinkle between his eyes. He looks gutted.

“Then why did you come?” Geralt asks, soft. He’s still kneeling before Jaskier, hands on either side of Jaskier’s thighs. The contact is warm through his new pants—his old pants, which Geralt kept.

Jaskier’s throat constricts, and against his will a tear slips free. He can feel the hot trail of it down his cheek. “You fucking know why.”

“You haven’t forgiven me,” Geralt counters, and it doesn’t sound accusing, it’s just a fact. And he’s right. Jaskier feels like an open wound of anger and hurt, and he can’t imagine allowing Geralt close enough to try to apply a salve yet.

“No,” he agrees, mouth twisting. “I can’t. Not yet. But I still—” He sucks in a breath. “I want to help.”

“I don't want to keep you here if it’s not where you want to be,” Geralt says. He’s looking at Jaskier with a deeply familiar expression. Guilt. Always guilt.

“It is,” Jaskier says, even though he knows he said the opposite not half a minute ago. “I don’t want to leave. I just. I want… I don’t want to feel like you think I’m a nuisance to have around. I don’t even know why you want me here anyways. I’m not a fighter, Geralt. I can’t do magic. I don’t even have a damn lute anymore, and my hands—” He has to stop, the tears cutting him off. He feels more slide down his cheeks, but he refuses to let the sob caught in his chest escape.

Geralt lifts his hands, his palms coming up on either side of Jaskier’s face. His thumbs skim over the skin beneath Jaskier’s eyes, collecting the dampness there. His expression is unreadable and enormous. Jaskier takes two shuddering breaths, the force of them racking his frame. “Jaskier,” Geralt says, quiet and demanding and earnest. “I didn’t come find you because I needed someone to fight for me. I needed someone I could trust.” He pauses, staring into Jaskier’s face. It’s probably a mess, splotchy and red from anger and tears. Geralt doesn’t seem to notice. “I missed you,” he says again, not a trace of embarrassment in his face or tone. “I just wanted you with me. If you don’t want to be here, if you can’t forgive me, I understand. But I want you here. I do.”

Jaskier crumples. There’s nowhere to go but further into Geralt—as always, as always—so he ends up falling forward until his face is pressed into Geralt’s neck. Heavy arms come up around him, two huge palms sliding along his back. The tears come in earnest, and the sob he was keeping trapped in his rib cage falls from his mouth in heaving gasps. He’s been cold for so long, and Geralt is so warm, holding him close. He makes soothing sounds into Jaskier’s hair, mouth pressing softly just behind his ear, and if anything that just makes Jaskier cry harder. He can’t remember the last time he felt cared for, wanted.

Geralt holds him until the sobs wind down, until Jaskier is slumped bonelessly against him, exhausted. He’s never felt so tired in his life, he thinks. Not even after walking all the way down that damn mountain. Geralt doesn’t pull away. He just shifts his arms down until they’re under Jaskier’s thighs and lifts. Jaskier clings to Geralt, his fingers clutching at his back, though he doesn’t remember putting them there. The world tilts, and a moment later Geralt is drawing the furs up around them, still holding Jaskier close.

It’s dreamlike. Jaskier feels empty and clean in the wake of his outburst, and the warmth of the furs and Geralt’s body are bliss. He thinks he’s been cold since he turned away from Geralt on that mountain. Sinking into the warmth, he presses a muddled apology into Geralt’s shirt.

“Don't,” Geralt admonishes, and Jaskier can feel the rumble of his voice where they’re pressed together. “I hurt you. You deserve to be upset about it.”

“You didn’t mean to,” Jaskier says, because he knows this. Geralt may be an idiot and he may let his emotions get the best of him, but he didn’t want to hurt Jaskier, not like this. He knows that. It should matter, that Geralt didn’t mean to, didn’t know that he had that kind of power over Jaskier’s heart.

“It doesn't matter,” Geralt says, and that’s true too. “I did it anyways. And I’m sorry. But I’m not going anywhere. Not without you, if you still want to join me.”

Jaskier pushes his face further into Geralt’s chest, breathing him in. He still smells the same. Like horse and iron, campfire, a hint of lilac. Heroics and heartbreak. Just a bit of onion. “I always want to be with you,” Jaskier admits, a bit hopelessly. “I can’t seem to stop.”

“Can’t say I mind,” Geralt says, and he sounds like he’s smiling. “I’ll try not to make it such a chore from now on.”

Jaskier huffs a laugh. “Fat chance,” he says, muffled by Geralt’s shirt. He’s so warm, drowsy and content. It shouldn’t be this easy, but here he is. He’s always been weak when it comes to Geralt. “You’re always going to be a pain,” he slurs.

“Takes one,” Geralt retorts, and his hands come up and smooth over Jaskier’s shoulder blades. One lifts to card through Jaskier’s hair. “Go to sleep, Jaskier. I’ll apologize again in the morning, and you can see if you forgive me then.”

Jaskier shivers awake at that, pulling back a bit. He finds Geralt’s face in the dim light, his eyes bright in the dark. “What if I don't?” he asks, defiant.

“Then I’ll say it again,” Geralt says, and Jaskier’s breath rushes out of him as Geralt leans forward. His lips brush along Jaskier’s cheek. “And again,” skim along his nose, press to his other cheek. Chasing away the tear streaks there. “And again.” A chaste press to his lips, barely a breath. Jaskier feels it in his toes. Geralt pulls back, just enough to look at him. “Until you do,” he finishes. “Or until we die, I guess, or you decide it’s not worth it. I wouldn’t blame you.”

Jaskier laughs wetly. He’s not entirely sure that he’s not dreaming. Maybe he froze to death in his broken little room, or fell into a feverous delirium from his infected wounds in that cell in Oxenfurt. Maybe he tripped down the mountain and broke his neck, and this has all just been the last fleeting imaginations of a dying man. It feels real, though. Geralt’s breath is hot against his face, and he feels so tired it seems unlikely that he could be dreaming. “I guess we’ll find out in the morning,” he says, and lies back down to curl into Geralt’s chest. It feels like a challenge, and he holds his breath as he waits.

Geralt settles back down next to him, with a sigh that sounds fond instead of exasperated. Jaskier wonders if he could find a way to fit the sound into a song. “In the morning,” Geralt agrees, and Jaskier smiles.

It doesn’t feel like healing, not quite. But it feels like the start.

[patroclusdefencesquad]

post mountain break up jaskier befriends the other witchers and they take him to kaer morhen for the winter so when geralt gets there jaskier is sitting round the fire having tea with vesemir and it's like the scene in pride and prejudice where mr darcy sees lizzie at pemberly except this time lizzie has already met his sister and told them everything that happened and they band together to roast the shit out of him

[wangxianficfinder]

Crossovers & Fandom Fusions pt.1 (not including SVSSS, TGCF, WOH, Guardian)

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Crossover

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All the Fox I Give by cinder1013 (T, 1k, Aziraphale/Crowley, WangXian, Good omens Crossover)

🧡 Of Ghosts and Heroes by The Silverfish (ZephyrAndTheSilverfish) (T, 51k, AS & WWX, AS/YH, WangXian, BNHA/MHA Crossover, Dimension Travel, POV Outsider, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Angst)

Come by it Honestly by ladyshadowdrake (M, 25k, Geraskier, WangXian, The Witcher Crossover, Crossover, Adventure)

Visit by a God from the past by I_am_she (Not Rated, 28k, Stuckony, WangXian, MCU Crossover, BAMF WWX, Time Travel, Science Experiments, Insecure TS, YL WWX, Handwavy Science, inaccurate science theories)

❤️ More Questions than Answers by tiniestawoo (T, 2k, Sterek, WangXian, Teen Wolf Crossover, Curses, Curse Breaking, Modern with Magic, (alternate for CQL I GUESS?), Full Shift Werewolves, Beta DH, Demonic Cultivation, Crack Treated Seriously, Crack Crossover)

Light Bearing Lord and The Patriarch by Anonymous (G, 3k, WangXian, Rise of the Guardians Crossover, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Relationship Reveal, Established Relationship, kind of crack, Crack Treated Seriously, WWX and LWJ are Guardians, but not just of Childhood, Implied Sexual Content, WWX and LWJ being Shameless)

A Long Road by Vathara (T, 175k, WangXian, Valdemar Series by Mercedes Lackey, Fluff and Angst, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Scheming NHS, Necromancy, Fire, Ghosts, Accidental Child Acquisition, is it an accident if the ghosts keep bringing them?)

Darkness shrouded in light by MomImBusy (T, 68k, WIP, WangXian, AS/YH, BNHA/MHA Crossover, Canon Divergence, MM Doesn't Exist, WWX is a Little Shit, WWX is here to fuck some shit up, mentions of abuse, Courtesy of the entire mdzs cast, Parental AS, Parental YH, Angst, probably, BAMF WWX, Necromancy in a quirk world)

"What's High School?" by peachygreentea (G, 9k, WangXian, XiCheng, BNHA/MHA Crossover, Established Relationship, Crack)

WangXian by MissCellophane (G, 2k, WangXian, WWX/XY, Legend of Fei Crossover, Canon Divergence, Post-Canon, Reincarnation, XY is LWJ, WWX is immortal, somehow don’t ask I didn’t plan anything, Relationship is very background mostly hinted, POV Alternating, Timeline What Timeline)

Diplomatic Incidents by Ariaste (M, 35k, WangXian, IB/DP, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Getting Together, Linguistics, Translation Spells, canon-typical borderline alcoholism, Fluff, a touch of angst for spice, being in love but not admitting you want to sleep together, Versus, sleeping together but not admitting you're in love, Post-Canon, post-canon for MDZS anyway, during-canon for DAI)

Queer Eye for the Bisexual Guy by Hopeworldiangirl777 (T, 8k, WangXian, Queer Eye, Modern AU, Makeover, WWX is a Mess, Fluff, I think?, Mild Swearing, WWX is a good dad, JYL is a good sister, Short Chapters)

For a Mountain by esama (T, 24k, Crossover, Resentful energy, 琅琊榜 | Nirvana in Fire (TV))

Unheard Voices, Open Ears by vamprav (M, 31k, WangXian, Harry Potter, Fusion, YLLZ WWX, Ghost CD, HP Gets Therapy, Trauma, Healing Rituals, Horcrux Destruction, HP is a Horcrux, HP Has Nightmares, HP Has a Crush, Immortal LWJ, Immortal WWX, WWX Has No Golden Core, Sentient Burial Mounds, Nonbinary MXY, MXY Lives )

~*~

Fandom Fusion

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live from new york by varnes (E, 87k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, This is a SNL AU, however the juniors are featured and there are lots of shenanigans!, slow burn, friends to lovers, pining, getting together, happy ending)

Wizards of Yunmeng Place Series by chatonnerie (G, 38k, WangXian, SangCheng, Modern AU, Wizards of Waverly place Fusion, Halloween Wei Wuxian's Birthday, Getting Together, Magic, Urban Fantasy, Fluff and Crack, Vampire Lans, Wizards Jiang family, Wizard WWX)

phase boundaries by chinxe (T, 6k, WangXian, Modern AU, kind of a buzzfeed unsolved au, Pining, Humor, accidental wingman jc)

critical path analysis by chinxe (T, 14k, WangXian, Modern AU, Police, Brooklyn Nine-Nine AU, Pining, Misunderstandings, wwx and lwj are simultaneously the smartest and densest detectives)

turn towards the sun by Ariaste (E, 21k, WangXian, Kushiel's Legacy Fusion, The Night Court (Kushiel's Legacy), Kink Negotiation, Courtesans, Intimacy, BDSM, Consent, Wangxian's canonical fetishes, roughly Cloud Recesses-era, Extracurricular Kissing, Impact Play, Kink Experimentation, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, (aka Madam Yu being canonically willing to hit WWX) )

and having a marvelous time by varnes (E, 108k, WangXian, Yúnmèng Siblings, Sound of Music AU, (i know!!! i know. stay with me on this.), Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Family Feels, spies to lovers???, Protective Siblings, Sometimes You Just Want Your Dads To Admit They're Your Dads, Angst with a Happy Ending)

only the deepest love by occultings (microcomets) (T, 40k, WangXian, Pride and Prejudice Fusion, Canon Divergence, Jane Austen Fusion, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Misunderstandings, Epistolary, (briefly), Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, [Podfic] only the deepest love by papercliptiara)

🧡 shoot your shot -- hot or knot by defractum (nyargles) (E, 51k, WangXian, Modern AU, A/B/O Dynamics, Reality Show, Hunger Games Setting, Canon-Typical Violence, Extremely Dubious Consent, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Humor, Additional Warnings In Author's Notes)

not unspectacular things by taizi (T, 14k, WangXian, The Parent Trap Fusion, Unconventional Families, Adopted Children, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Getting Back Together, Happy Ending, the kids are alright, Families of Choice, Modern AU, Meddling Kids, Unreliable Narrator, Good Sibling JC, Protective NHS, One Big Happy Family, POV Third Person Limited)

new york, i love you by Yuisaki (T, 7k, WangXian, Modern AU, Identity Porn, Making Out, Underage Drinking, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Gossip Girl Fusion, Childhood Friends)

I will be chasing a starlight by feyburner, sundiscus (E, 71k, WangXian, Star Trek Fusion, Vulcan LWJ, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Eventual Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending)

Among Us by misbehavingvigilante (E, 50k, WangXian, Among Us (Video Game) Setting, Alien Sex, Breeding, Eggpreg, Tentacles, Consensual Non-Consent, Dubious Consent, They're both into it but yeah, Cannibalism, The dove is dead but in the Addams Family type of way)

the rivers start to sing by fruitys (M, 27k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Tangled (2010) Fusion, Fairy Tale Elements, Strangers to Lovers, True Love's Kiss, or something like that, Sharing a Bed, Wound Tending, Hurt/Comfort, Attempt at Humor, Implied/Referenced Torture)

hurricane by gdgdbaby (E, 5k, WangXian, Star Trek Fusion, Pon Farr, Alien Biology, Porn with Feelings, Yuletide Treat)

among the stars by plonk (E, 61k, WangXian, Space, Science Fiction, Firefly Setting, Courtesan WWX, Courtesan LWJ)

The Lives of Lan Wangji by azurewaxwing (T, 14k, WangXian, Fusion, Dianna Wynne Jones - The Lives of Christopher Chant, Temporary Character Death(So Temporary the Character Doesn't Notice), Rated T for Corpse-Eating Cats, Sentient Burial Mounds, Getting Together)

Of Hats and Flutes by FixaIdea (G, 6k, WIP, WangXian, Discworld Crossover, Humor, Witches, Fluff and Humor, Necromancy)

Call me out by your name by Asparmagus (E, 51k, WIP, WangXian, Modern AU, Reality Show, Paradise Hotel, First Meetings, Getting Together, Mutual Pining, First Kiss, Blow Jobs, Semi-Public Sex, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Pool Sex, Oblivious WWX, Rough Kissing, Biting, Bisexual disaster WWX, Unnegotiated Kink, Handcuffs)

Hide Away by sassybluee (E, 19k, WangXian, Modern AU, Modern: No Powers, Compulsory Heterosexuality, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, straight boy WWX, straight boy LWJ, everyone's convinced they're straight tbh, LWJ FUCKS, WWX fucks, referenced but not shown for both of those, Reality TV, Love Island, Slow Burn, Getting Together, Drunk kiss, Shower Sex, Ambiguous/Open Ending, POV Alternating)

🧡 After the Final Rose by azurewaxwing (E, 55k, wangxian, modern, reality show au, secret relationship, fluff & angst, happy ending, bachelor LWJ, cameraman WWX, smut, The Bachelor)

The Great Chinese Cook-Off by aubreyli, cafecliche, etymologyplayground, mme_anxious (G, 20k, WIP, WangXian, Modern AU, The Great British Bake Off Fusion, sort of; it's more of a cooking show, because most Chinese people use their ovens for pot/pan storage, Collaboration, Screenplay/Script Format, Humor, Baking, Cooking, Stress)

🧡 don't threaten me with a good time by livinginaworldofnoise (G, 60k, WangXian, Modern AU, Great British bake off AU, Script format, Fluff and Crack, Reality TV, Social media)

🧡 I Don't Want to Debut! by countingcr0ws (G, 56k, WangXian, Modern AU, Reality show, Idols, Actor LWJ, Forced Contestant WWX, Tencent's 2021 Idol Producer)

❤️ Welcome to the Great Gusu Bake Off! by BlackWiresOnHerHead (G, 60k, wangxian, modern, college/university au, the great british bake off au, humor)

Falling to the Rhythm by Selenay (E, 128k, WangXian, Modern: No Powers, Dance, Strictly Come Dancing Fusion, Ballroom Dancing, Dancer!WWX, Violinist LWJ, Pining While Dancing, Oblivious WWX, Gratuitous Costume Descriptions, Gratuitous dancing descriptions, Slow Burn, [Podfic] Falling to the Rhythm by semperfiona_podfic (semperfiona) )

all my secrets safe by wincechesters (E, 12k, wangxian, mr & mrs smith au, modern, hitmen au, pining)

Castle in the Wastes by ailuridae (abigailnicole) (T, 41k, wangxian, Howl’s Moving Castle fusion, personified Chenqing, canon typical violence)

my place beside you by lilacevergarden (alittlemorecreative) (T, 15k, WangXian, Modern AU, Established Relationship, Family Drama, Boomer LQR, Crazy Rich Asians Fusion, Romantic Comedy, Angst with a Happy Ending)

Something Good by boxoftheskyking (T, 43k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Teaching, Sound of Music AU)

some lovely, perilous thing by varnes (E, 24k, WangXian, Inception Fusion, Criminal Associates To Lovers, Heist Case Fic)

mountains, we met by fruitys (E, 79k, WangXian, Historical, The Handmaiden (2016) Fusion, Enemies to Lovers, Misunderstandings, Secret Identity, Touch-Starved, Sharing a Bed, Mutual Pining, Getting Together, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Mental Health Issues, Emotional Manipulation, Blow Jobs, Rimming)

burning up a sun (just to say goodbye) Series by besanii (T, 11k, WangXian, James Bond Fusion, Spies & Secret Agents, Reconciliation, Presumed Dead, Quartermaster!LWJ, Double-Oh!WWX)

Nanny Wei by Odae (T, 31k, WIP, WangXian, Modern AU, Single Parent LWJ, Kid Fic, The Nanny AU, Nanny!WWX, Composer!LWJ Slow Burn, Slice of Life, Fluff, Domestic, POV WWX)

Circlet of Death by cinder1013 (E, 20k, WangXian, XiYao, MingYu, Star Wars Fusion, scum, Villainy, Pirates, I make up Jedi stuff, Gender Fluid Character, Genderfluid MXY, Misgendering, BAMF JYL, Tantric Sex, Badass QS, Sexual Violence, Anal Sex, Wedding Night)

Who Ya’ Gonna Call? by cinder1013 (T, 7k, WangXian, XiYao, Ghostbusters Fusion, WWX is a chaos gremlin, so is MY, jgs is his own warning, So is wc, but only briefly, real ghostbusters fusion)

Heretic by Speechless_since_1998 (T, 13k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Pre-Slash, Pre-Relationship, Crossover, Multiple Crossovers, Crack Crossover, Percy Jackson Fusion, Percy Jackson References, Ancient Greek Religion & Lore Fusion, Angst, Hurt/Comfort)

The Weight of the World by KouriArashi (T, 67k, WangXian, XiYao, Pacific Rim Fusion, Robots, Monsters, robots fighting monsters, Family, Romance, Developing Relationship, Angst, (but not about the romances), Hurt/Comfort, Politics, Happy Ending)

The Altogether Ooky WangXian Family by FluffyHippogriff (T, 57k, WIP, WangXian, 3Zun, Modern AU, Addams Family AU, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, mostly because death can be overcome with the help of a little necromancy, Kid Fic, Comedy)

Wei Wuxian Makes a Wish series by natcat5 (M, 119k, wangxian, major character death, underage, madoka magica au, modern w/ magic, time travel, high school au, body horror, self-harm, angst w/ bittersweet ending, time loop, mental instability, suicidal thoughts)

❤️ kick at the darkness 'til it bleeds daylight by AlfAlfAlfAlfAlf, tardigradeschool (T, 75k, WangXian, Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Eventual Happy Ending, Getting Together, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Inspired by The Parent Trap (1998), Kid Fic, teen shenanigans, two a-yuans, Fluff and Angst)

Extraordinary Attorney Wangji by PaidSubscription (T, 57k, WangXian, ChengQing, NieLan, Modern AU, Fluff, Slow Burn, Getting Together, Autistic LWJ, WWX Has ADHD, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Angst with a Happy Ending, Lawyers, Wholesome Wàngxiàn, Extraordinary Attorney Woo Storyline, Lan to the Wang to the Ji, LWJ Loves Rabbits, Neurodivergent Love)

Wei Wuxian is the Actual Bogeyman (no, really) by chatonnerie (T, 57k, WangXian, Rise of the Guardians AU, Crack, not gonna lie, i mean they literally call wwx the bogeyman my poor brain could not resist, TW:Death, I mean, Jack Frost cannonically dies)

Like a House on Fire by KouriArashi (T, 82k, WangXian, Modern au, Paramedics, Firefighters, Light angst, Mutual pining, Kid fic, Past drug use, Past child abuse, Families of choice, Domestic fluff, 9-1-1/9-1-1 lone star fusion)

A Journey in the Making by DawnCloud (G, 6k, WangXian, Pokemon AU)

of ghosts and graveyards by DiRoxy (T, 10k, WangXian, Pre-Relationship, Pokemon AU, Case Fic, ghost!WWX, Happy Ending, LWJ and JC Work Together, Depictions of Science Experiments on Pokemon, Shadow Pokemon, Clone Pokemon)

an armful of warmth by Alaceron (G, 3k, WangXian, Harry Potter Setting)

to this day, in your veins by HeylookGiraffes (G, 1k, LSZ & LWJ, WangXian, Harry Potter Setting, Hogwarts, Grief/Mourning, Father-Son Relationship)

Fire-Eyed Fury by NevillesGran (G, 6k, MDZS Cast Ensemble, October Daye Series - Seanan McGuire, Ballad 39: Tam Lin, Book 3: An Artificial Night, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, bullet point fic, An Artificial Night but (mostly) MDZS Characters)

our reflections as seen (when the water stills) by chatonnerie (E, 121k, WangXian, XuanLi, Modern AU, Tokyo Ghoul, TW:Blood, This is a ghoul au, but everyone is also in university, so dumb energy is peak, Gore, Body Horror, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Biting, both the gory, and the horny, WWX's inability to Shut Up)

what else is there? by mme_anxious (T, 12k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Swan Princess AU, Everybody Lives, who isn't already dead, Magic, Animal Transformation, Curses, Angst, Humor, Happy Ending, Kissing)

who cares when you're gone by camellialice (M, 22k, WangXian, Hades (Video Game) Fusion, Canon-Typical Levels of Self-Sacrifice, Canon-Typical Levels of Spitting Up Blood, Canon-Typical Levels of Pining)

The Untamed Effect by thievinghippo (T, 70k, WangXian, Science Fiction, Mass Effect Fusion, Giant monsters, slight body horror, It's the end of the world, and yet wangxian is still going strong, Happy Ending)

🧡 Song of Suibian and Bichen: Or, the Greatest (And Only) Furby Master of Demonic Cultivation by moonwaif (T, 64k, WangXian, Fix-It of Sorts, canon adjacent, The spiritual weapons are furbies, Angst with a Happy Ending, The parent trap but make it WangXian with furbies, Mutual Pining, Taking my favorite parts of every adaptation and smashing them together)

sempiternal | 但愿人长久 by auberjing (T, 12k, wangxian, post-canon, curses, curse breaking, animal transformation, shapeshifting, temporary character death, modern setting, angst w/ happy ending, animal crossing fusion)

Yiling Laozu's Moving Castle by Eleanor_Fenyx (T, 2k, wangxian, MXTX reverse trope fest, anti-deaging, howl’s moving castle au)

swinger of birches by astronicht (M, 23k, wangxian, modern w/ magic, Practical Magic au, grief/mourning, canonical character death, angst w/ happy ending, witches, necromancy)

Avatar: The Untamed Waterbender by KouriArashi (T, 181k, wangxian, JC/WQ, JC & WWX & JYL, Avatar fusion, action/adventure, families of choice, light angst, developing relationship, hurt/comfort, pining)

🧡i walk through your dreams and invent the future by TooSel (G, 21k, wangxian, major character death, time traveler’s wife fusion, canon compliant, time travel, friends to lovers, getting together, fluff, hurt/comfort, grief, angst w/ happy ending)

💖 I’d be the one to hold you down (kiss you so hard)  by AlfAlfAlfAlfAlf & tardigradeschool (E, 85k, wangxian, JGY/LXC, NMJ/LXC, modern, leverage au, canon-typical violence, unhealthy   relationships, depression, heists, found family, murder, hurt/comfort, angst w/ happy ending)

💖 The Eternal Recurrence by countingcr0ws (E, 51k, wangxian, time traveler’s wife au, underage kissing, time travel, romance, fatherhood, family, poetry, coming of age, getting together)

the cow says moo, the chicken says squawk, and the demon beast of yiling says by Dragonskye (T, 57k, wangxian, animal transformation, angst w/ happy ending, beauty and the beast fusion, falling in love, hurt/comfort, secret identity, pining)

far longer than forever by jaws_3 (G, 8k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Animal Transformation, Curses, sort of not really swan princess au, there's angry birds and love confessions)

It's not a fairytale by underwaves (M, 16k, wangxian, fantasy au, red riding hood fusion, war, grief/mourning, curses, animal transformation, angst w/ happy ending, animal death, temporary character death, hurt/comfort, fluff)

climb the sky, make the flight Series by exmanhater (E, 26k, WangXian, Dragons, Mating Flight (Dragonriders of Pern), Pern Fusion, First Time, Riding, Anal Fingering, LWJ is a service top, Fire Lizards, Established Relationship, 5+1 Things, Threadfall (Dragonriders of Pern), Telepathy)

change by antebunny (G, 16k, WangXian, WWX & JYL, LWJ & LXC, Star Wars Fusion, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Telepathy, because...the Force, Non-Graphic Violence, The Power of Love™, BAMF WWX, JYL is a queen, wwx is a little shit)

So You Accidentally Kidnapped A Qilin by Mikkeneko (T, 83k, WangXian, Juuni Kokki | Twelve Kingdoms Fusion, yzy's a+ parenting, Identity Issues, Cultivator Politics, Yin Iron Poisoning, Most people live, by 'most people' i mean xy lives, Twin Prides of Yúnmèng Feels, JC & WWX Reconciliation, Mutual Pining, Miscommunication, Getting Together, Temporary Character Death, Happy Ending, Pacifist WWX)

Child Surprise by Ariaste (T, 4k, WangXian, The Witcher, The Law of Surprise (The Witcher), Canon Temporary Character Death, Fluff and Angst, but only a teeny bit of angst, they're married, they have a son)

Magical Mishaps by Theladyofravenclaw (T, 96k, WangXian, XuanLi, ChengQing, SangNing, Harry Potter Setting, Modern with Magic, Hogwarts, Fluff and Humor, Happy Ending, Just something light, pure shenanigans, Mutual Pining, background 3zun, Misunderstandings)

Half Agony, Half Hope by queenklu (T, 105k, WangXian, XiYao, ChengQing, XuanLi, NieLan, Jane Austen Fusion, persuasion au, Pining, Broken Engagement, Secrets, Espionage, Child Injury, Terrible Parents (YZY and JFM), Past Child Neglect)

🧡The World We Made by updatebug (T, 80k, WangXian, The Old Guard fusion, Immortals, Immortal LWJ, Angst with a Happy Ending, Reincarnation, Modern AU, The Old Guard AU, Temporary Character Death)

Lan Wangji vs. The World by huxiyi (E, 21k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Scott Pilgrim References, Scott Pilgrim fusion, Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff and Crack, Crack Crossover, fucking while pining, or is it pining while fucking, with a soundtrack!!!!, idiots to lovers)

We Wish You A Logical Christmas by little_ogre (M, 9k, WangXian, Star Trek AU, Mutual Pining, Happy Ending, Going to Vulcan for Christmas, WWX is Vulcan, LWJ is human, what could go wrong, Pon Farr)

Season of Resurrection by Pyrrti (G, 1k, wangxian, pre-relationship, reunions, sky children of the light fusion, multiple POV, LSZ pov, LWJ pov, WWX pov)

his heart, unhaltered by starlistic (M, 26k, WangXian, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Divergence, Winter Soldier AU, Brainwashing, Torture, Recovery) 

hold you like a victory by Fleetling (T, 13k, wangxian, LXC & LWJ & LQR, The Scorpio Races au, horse racing, tenderness, promises, getting together, first kiss, oceans, storms, celtic mythology & folklore, sharing a bed, literal sleeping together, wound tending, discussion of death)

south of somewhere, north of nowhere by silversshadow (T, 25k, wangxian, BSSR/LY, SZH/XXC, JYL/JZX, xxxholic au, modern, canon divergence)

我拿青春赌明天 / I’ll wager my youth against tomorrow by tombenough_and_continent (T, 37k, Wangxian, This is How You Lose the Time War au, scifi au, historical au, time travel, love letters, enemies to lovers)

By Sun and Candle-Light by tangerinechar (T, 15k, wangxian, modern, Good Omens au, pining, roommates, fluff, misunderstandings)

still breathing series by northofallmusic (tofsla) (M, 11k, wangxian, Dishonored au, past character death, outsider WWX, hopeful ending, mild gore, the void, and being in love with it, dubcon, body horror)

And I Think It's Gonna Be a Long, Long, Time by sketchyscribbles (M, 21k, WangXian, ChengSang, XuanLi, Science Fiction, the martian!au, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Mutual Pining, wwx attempting the impossible, Happy Ending, Minor Violence, minor 3zun, Minor Injuries, Outer Space)

The Return Of the (Yiling) Sith by Zephyr (ZephyrAndTheSilverfish) (T, 23k, WangXian, SongXiao, Star Wars Setting, Hurt/Comfort, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Canon-Typical Violence, POV Alternating, The Force, Kidnapping, Pining, IN SPACE!)

~*~

[itsrapsodia]

re: that post about ep06 and only one safe path down the mountain - the operative word being SAFE so it could also be: yen: *portals away* jaskier: *walks down 1 safe path* geralt, local self-sacrificing idiot, witcher, and horsegirl: oh shit jaskier is on the one path and roach needs her apples (and also maybe there is a chance to meet the bard at the bottom) *hurls himself down the decidedly unsafe side of the mountain princess bride westley style*

anon i also cant remember what the context for this was, but i think the context is unnecessary, all you need is the image of geralt rolling down the mountain djjfjd