#yennefer fluff

[mountainsinaboat]

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 133

"YENNEFER!" Jaskier screams, banging his fist on the door. "Yennefer, Please! I need help!" The door opens and shows a very disgruntled sorceress, clearly having just woken up. "Do you have any idea what time it is?" "Geralt got cursed on a hunt!" "Of course he did.. What happened?" "WATCH OUT, GERALT!" "Jaskier, get back!" The witcher hisses. The sorcerer/creature/being??? they were- Well, Geralt was fighting. Then with a chant in a dead language and a wiggle of their fingers, a blast of magic was being shot at Jaskier, presumably for making a scene. Geralt had shoved Jaskier out of the way, and the spell hit Geralt in the chest. His veins glowed for a moment before with a zap, he transformed. "And where is he now?" Yennefer asks. "He's right here!" And Jaskier gestured to a rabbit in his arms. A rabbit with yellow, slitted eyes.

[lexysmexy5]

Witcher Headcanons fluff

For all of you witcher fans here are some fluff headcanons for all reader genders.

For Geralt x reader:

He loves when you talk to him when he is out looking for monster contracts, he most of the time never talk back or seems bored by your talking but he does love your voice, it makes him feel less lonely and different.

He loves to play with your hair (for those who have no hair or don’t like hair he will rub your head softly)

He will sometimes grab your hand and rub circles on them with his gloved hands he does tend to wish he had no gloves on because he loves how your hands feel.

For Lambert x reader:

Lambert is very VERY protective and will do anything to keep you from harm and let���s say if he finds anyone eyeing you in a way he doesn't like, you have to stop him from bashing the person’s head in or a sword in their body.

He hates taking a bath unless you come with him.

He doesn't ever tell you but when you rub his shoulders after he comes home (or at Kaer Morhen) either in the tub or in your guy’s room he absolutely loves it you know how to get every knot out of his shoulders.

For Yennefer x reader:

She will buy you anything (or steal) that you find you like or whatever she thinks that would look good on you.

Yennefer loves when you sing (or read) to her she loves hearing your voice.

She wants to be next to you at all times if possible and she will hold your hand a lot.

For Jaskier (Dandelion) x reader:

He goes to a lot of performances and loves it when he sees you in the crowd listening to him sing.

He will always hide his nervousness in the relationship with humor and jokes (and you can’t forget his nervous hand gestures) but he always trusts that you will work things out together.

He loves when you sing with him (or listen) he talks and sings a lot being the enter of attention but he never forgets to give you the spotlight at times and let you shine and get the attention, not all the time though after all he is your damsel in destress.

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I wonder if you want a part 2 because I will do it. I will also do smut/spicy headcanons too. I am VERY new to posting on Tumblr I have been on here for a while but never really posted too much. Have a great day or night wherever or whenever you are reading this. 

[dotlookstired]

Chapter 7 of my little witchers fanfic

After finishing this chapter, I am having a hard time with ideas. I have a vague concept where the littlest ones start playing, and at first, the older ones think it’s silly and cringe-worthy. But over time, they get dragged into the fun and decide to enjoy being kids while it lasts.

That idea feels a bit thin, though, and I’m not sure it’s enough to build on for another chapter. If you have any suggestions or ideas, I’d love to hear them in the comments!

Chapter Text

As soon as they arrived at the stables of Kaer Morhen, Dandelion came sprinting out. “I’m so glad you’re back! Yennefer returned while you all…were…gone—" He froze mid-sentence, his eyes locking onto the tiny witchers. “What in the bloody hell happened!?”

“The fox creature in the village. Here, take Eskel so I can dismount,” Vesemir said, gesturing to the boy sleeping on his lap.

“This is Eskel?” Dandelion exclaimed, staring at the miniature witcher in amazement as Vesemir handed him over.

“Yes. Every witcher except me is now a teen, preteen, or toddler,” Vesemir said, glancing over the group. He dismounted his horse and went to help Coën off his.

Dandelion scanned the group until his gaze landed on a young white-haired boy with bright yellow eyes. “Geralt! Is that you?” he squealed, skipping over like a kid in a candy store, unconscious Eskel still dangling in his arms like a sack of potatoes.

“Careful, Dandelion! Don’t drop Eskel!” Geralt squeaked as he awkwardly slid off Roach, his small stature making the process more of a controlled fall.

“Oh, you’re all so tiny and cute!” Dandelion squealed again.

Ciri, now freed of the littlest witchers by Vesemir, quickly took Eskel from Dandelion before the bard’s enthusiasm could cause any accidents. “It’s toss a coin to your witcher, not toss the witcher” she said as she slung him over her shoulder and headed inside.

With his arms finally free, Dandelion pounced on Geralt, scooping him up in a bone-crushing hug. “Oh, Geralt! You’re like a little doll!”

“Dandelion, please, I need to breathe,” Geralt rasped, struggling to pry himself out of the bard’s affectionate grip.

“Geralt, why are you a child?” yelled Yennefer as she marched over and rescued him from Dandelion.

As Geralt began explaining exactly what had happened, Vesemir, now wearing slings that carried Aiden and Lambert, herded the rest of the group inside. “Ciri, lay Eskel in the infirmary. Coën, you follow and lie down as well. I’ll be there shortly after I get these two situated,” he instructed, glancing down at the two sleeping witchers nestled snugly in their slings.

Ciri hauled Eskel onto one of the old infirmary beds, then flopped into a chair to catch her breath. Eskel might only have been thirteen now, but just as in his adult form, he was still a lot bigger and heavier than the average person. After a moment, she started removing his oversized boots, grimacing at the state of his filthy, ill-fitting clothes and armor.

She recalled that some of her old clothes were still stored away somewhere. Quickly retrieving them, she found a few outfits that might fit Geralt and Coën as well. Returning to the infirmary, she handed an outfit to Coën, who thanked her gratefully. She then set aside a set of clothes for Eskel, assuming he’d probably prefer if Vesemir helped him change rather than her.

Meanwhile, Vesemir was struggling with a rather unexpected problem. Lambert, who was still asleep in the sling, managed to entangle himself in Vesemir’s hair, clutching it in a death grip. “Come on, Lambert, just let go,” Vesemir muttered, keeping his voice low so as not to wake the sleeping witchers. He needed to get the keep situated before he could even think about dealing with their chaos just yet.

His plans were almost ruined when Yennefer appeared, walking swiftly down the hallway with Geralt dangling helplessly under her arm. His legs and arms hung slightly above the floor as she briskly recounted what she’d been up to on her vacation.

“Shush,” Vesemir hissed, nodding toward the slumbering witchers in his slings.

Yennefer paused, offering a quiet apology before stopping to take a closer look at the tiny Lambert. “Aww, if I didn’t know better, I’d say Lambert actually looks cute,” she whispered.

Geralt, still dangling in her grasp, turned his wide, pleading eyes to Vesemir, silently begging for rescue. Vesemir glanced down at him and had to stifle a laugh at his pup’s predicament.

“Yennefer, could you help me untangle myself?” Vesemir asked, nodding at his hair and the Lambert.

Yennefer released Geralt, who immediately scurried away.

Vesemir let out a long sigh of relief, as he was separated from Lambert’s grasp. “Thank you, Yennefer,” he said, his voice a mix of gratitude and weariness.

Yennefer arched an eyebrow, and smirked. “Even asleep he’s causes trouble”

Vesemir noded, his focus on the two small bundles in his arms. Lambert was still fast asleep, and Aiden was curled up, tiny ears folded against his head. Vesemir adjusted his grip. “Now I need to find a place safe to put them while I work.”

“Why not put them in their bed? Or one of the infirmary cots with the others?” Yennefer suggested.

Vesemir shook his head. “I’m worried they might roll out of the bed—or worse, get squashed if the others roll over in their sleep. Besides, I want to keep them close enough to watch but not have to hold them the whole time.”

Yennefer considered this for a moment. “Like a carriage or a cradle?” She glanced around the keep’s aging hall. “You could make something similar out of one of the crates in the cellar. Line it with padding and blankets, and it would be portable. That way, you could carry it room to room.”

“That could work. Could you fetch a small crate—preferably one with handles?” Vesemir asked.

Yennefer hesitated. The cellar was her least favorite place in the keep. “Or…” She trailed off, glancing at the little witchers. She knew how much of a menace Lambert could be but Aiden looked impossibly cute, all snuggled up in Vesemir’s arms, his ears twitching faintly in his sleep. She sighed, knowing she couldn't take one without the other. “ I could watch them while you go.”

“Thank you,” Vesemir said skeptically, passing the two over carefully. Yennefer cradled them against her chest, muttering something as she carried the two small witchers to her room, settling herself by the fire. she found herself smiling, Lambert stirred briefly, his little fingers curling around the edge of her sleeve, but he didn’t wake. Aiden, let out a tiny sigh and burrowed closer to her

“Menaces,” Yennefer murmured as Lambert wrapped his little hand around her finger.

Vesesmir quickly located an adequate crate. He gathered some spare blankets and pillows, and arranged them inside the crate. When he finished he didn’t hear anything from Yennefer so he assumed all was well and took the opportunity to go check on the others.

Vesemir turned his attention to the infirmary. When he entered, he discovered that Geralt had scurried off there. Geralt was wearing clothes that actually fit and had squashed himself into one of the oversized chairs with Ciri, telling her how he was hiding from Yennefer and Dandelion.

He then went about checking on the others. Coën had fallen asleep and seemed fine, Vesemir draped an extra blanket over him before moving to Eskel, who was also asleep.

“Ciri, good job finding clothes for them,” Vesemir told her.

Vesemir pulled a curtain for privacy and gently dressed Eskel. Once done, he returned to Yennefer’s room.

The sight that greeted him made him consider that maybe he was dreaming and this whole ordeal was just a nightmare. Yennefer was sitting in front of the fire, her gaze soft as she observed the two little ones in her arms. Vesemir set the crate down gently and cleared his throat. Yennefer glanced up, her usual smug glare replaced by a genuine smile.

“I don’t think I've ever seen Lambert so relaxed before,” Vesemir said.

“Yes, if i didn't know better I'd say he was probably just faking so i let my guard down” she replied.

Vesemir took them one at a time and gently placed them next to each other in the makeshift cradle before tucking them in. as Vesemir carried them to his next task, Aiden cuddled up closer to Lambert who placed an arm around him.

Geralt had volunteered to start dinner. The tiny, white-haired witcher stood on a stool, carefully chopping potatoes with precision. His focus was broken when a cheerful voice rang out behind him.

“There you are, Geralt!” Dandelion chirped with uncontainable enthusiasm.

Geralt flinched, his hand freezing mid-chop. He turned his head slowly, glaring over his shoulder. “Shush! Keep it down!” he hissed, his yellow eyes narrowing. “There are certain people I don’t want knowing my location.”

Dandelion blinked in confusion, his grin faltering.

“I volunteered to cook dinner because I figured no one would think to look for me in the kitchen—including you,” Geralt growled, his voice dripping with irritation.

Unbothered by the witcher’s clear disdain, Dandelion leaned against the counter, a mischievous grin creeping onto his face. “Come now, Geralt. Who could possibly resist the allure and risk of a tiny, grumpy witcher wielding a kitchen knife? Certainly not me, i've been terribly board recently and i need some risk and excitement”

Geralt sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “If you’re not going to help, go away before someone follows your voice and I have even more people bothering me.”

“Alright, what do you want me to do?” the bard asked. Gerlat handed him a bowl of chopped potatoes and pointed at the boiling pot of stew on the stove. “Carefully add those without splashing boiling stew all over yourself—or me, for that matter.” ” Gerlat said.

Dandelion carefully added the potatoes while Geralt watched him with intensity and great anxiety. “There! What’s next?” Dandelion asked, turning to face the little white-haired witcher.

“Don’t look at me like that, Geralt. You look as though some monstrous beast is about to leap out from behind me and drag me off. I’ll have you know I’m perfectly competent in a kitchen! I’ve survived all forty years of my life without a single kitchen-related injury,” Dandelion declared, crossing his arms proudly.

Geralt’s brow furrowed as he squinted up at the bard. “You’re forty years old? Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Dandelion huffed, his arms still crossed. “There’s no need to be rude about it. I’m well aware I look like an old man.” He sighed dramatically.

“You look no older than twenty-three, you fool! There’s no way you’re forty,” Geralt said skeptically. The bard’s expression shifted to flattered. “Why, thank you, Geralt!” he said, giving a small bow. “But I am indeed forty. Why would I lie to you about this? Think about it: we met when I was eighteen. How long have we been friends now?”

Geralt opened his mouth, then paused, his face twisting as he did the math. “...Too long,” he muttered under his breath.

“Charming as always,” Dandelion quipped, placing a hand over his heart.

“But this doesn’t make any sense, you-” Geralt muttered, lost in thought.

Before Dandelion could respond, he let out a screech as the stew began boiling over. In a panic, the bard grabbed the pot with his bare hands, yelped in pain, and hastily plopped it down on the counter.

“My hands!” Dandelion wailed, shaking them dramatically. “I’ll never play the lute again! My life is over!”

“Dandelion, stop flailing and let me see!” Geralt shouted, his tiny voice somehow managing to carry authority.

The bard froze mid-wail, startled by Geralt’s outburst, and held out his hands obediently.

Geralt inspected them, squinting in concentration. “I think they’ll heal, but you’ve definitely scorched them, you idiot. Why on earth didn’t you use oven mitts?”

“I don’t know! I just didn’t!” Dandelion whined, his voice cracking.

“Unbelievable. You should go ask Yennefer to heal it,” Geralt suggested, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

Dandelion’s face twisted in horror. “Absolutely not! She’ll just laugh at my misery and misfortune. Plus, she frightens me a little!”

“Well, it’s more stupidity than misfortune, but fine,” Geralt said with a sigh. “I’ll come with you to talk to her. Maybe she’ll take pity on you if I’m there.”

When they found Yennefer, she was kneeling beside a sewing kit, rummaging through one of her chests.

“Yen? What are you looking for? I thought all your winter clothes were in the big chest at the foot of your bed,” Geralt asked.

Before she could respond, Geralt squinted at her suspiciously.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” Yennefer asked, trying—and failing—not to laugh.

“Why do you smell like Lambert... and his cat?” Geralt asked in confusion.

Yennefer burst out laughing. “Because he and Aiden are small and need supervision! Vesemir handed them to me while he got the keep situated. And,” she added between giggles, “I’m looking for that dress that got ripped while I was gathering herbs in the woods. I’m going to recycle it into tiny clothes for the littlest two.”

“Oh, I see,” Geralt said, avoiding her gaze as embarrassment painted his face red.

Dandelion, ever the opportunist, grinned. “Geralt, are you jealous?”

“No!” Geralt screeched, his voice cracking as he crossed his arms defensively.

“Oh, don’t be that way,” Yennefer teased. “There should be enough material for me to make you something, too.”

Geralt tried to remain stoic, but a small smile betrayed him. “Can you make me a better shirt? This one has a hole,” he mumbled, holding up his tattered garment.

Yennefer nodded, still smiling.

“This is all very heartwarming,” Dandelion interjected, waving his bandaged hands, “but we came here for a reason.”

“Oh, right,” Geralt said, snapping out of his momentary distraction. “Yen, can you please fix Dandelion?”

“I don’t think there’s enough magic in the world to fix him,” Yennefer replied casually, not even sparing the bard a glance.

“Hey!” Dandelion squealed, holding up his burned hands. “He means these! My hands! I’m in pain, you heartless sorceress!”

“Oh, well, that kind of fixing is easy,” Yennefer said, as she turned to another chest. She pulled out a jar of ointment and smirked. “Hold still, bard This is going to hurt at first”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/61463236/chapters/158033671

[whitewingsh]

Just giving y'all green lights and say there is audience for The Witcher content

*wink wink* if yk what I mean

[astaldis]

@witchermonstermayhem​      @whumpishprompts      @hurtcember​

For Hurtcember Day 13/Merry Whumpmas Day 22 “Nightmare” and the Witchery Yuletide Calendar Door 22 “Ice Skating”

Chapters: 1/1      Words: 1,423 Fandom: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Characters: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg Additional Tags: Spoilers for The Tower of the Swallow, Ice Skating, Nightmares, Family Fluff, Found Family, Winter at Kaer Morhen

Summary: Ciri wakes up from a bad nightmare. Luckily, Geralt is already there. And he has the best cure for this haunting dream.

photo: Netflix

[cherryjuicegf]

"Sweet Melitele, my balls will fall off out here!"

Yennefer flinches ever so faintly, lips twitching in an involuntary smile. She was not expecting company.

His steps are almost too loud on the stone floor of the balcony as he approaches and she does him the favor of replying. "And wouldn't that be a sight to behold."

A gasp, scandalized. "Oh, wicked witch. Who says you are not the one to control the weather, just to watch me suffer?" He stands beside her, the blabbering idiot, and it almost hurts to look him in the eye. "I'll tell you what would be a sight, a lightning striking you right where you stand, oh I would love to see that!"

Somehow the moment her fists clench on the railing, he goes silent. She still doesn't look at him. She wasn't expecting company, after all.

The thing is, company finds her anyway these days and she wouldn't say that it bothers her, no, she couldn't say that. Rather, it is a way of smiling every now and then, just to feel her lips turn upwards for once instead of ripping her face with bitterness. It is a way of feeling something. Even if it's regret, a cruel longing tearing her heart out of her chest every time she looks into his eyes, and sees herself.

Worse, he sees her too.

And now here he is, playing his biggest role, always before her and it always feels so forced, so out of place. Nothing like it does with the others. He is good at this with the others.

Ahead, the forest spreads white and deep under the light that struggles to pierce the grey clouds. Thin snowflakes have already started twirling in the wind, cold and biting. At least, at least.

Suddenly, the voice beside her becomes hushed, and the curtain falls. "Too typical for you to seek the cold, don't you find?" There is a slight mirth in his tone, perhaps something to keep it warm.

Her nails dig into her palms, skin already sore and rough. She wants to avoid his stare. She can't. "Perhaps. Old habits die hard." Their eyes meet and a sudden ache attacks her knees. Damn him. A short smile curves her lips. "The only warmth that has ever welcomed me is that of a battlefield on fire."

She watches as the fingers of his right hand curl into his coat, as though on instinct. There was a time when she craved that same fire. Now that it has betrayed her too, she has nothing left but the cold.

Jaskier's eyes are crinkling faintly in the corners and it almost looks like a wince. Gods, why is he not saying anything? Only staring, searching as though for a string inside her to pull and let her crumble to the ground.

There are times she thinks she would let him. She almost craves it.

Now, she scoffs. How dare, how dare he doubt the shelter she has been hiding under for two lifetimes now, how dare he stand right in front of her and wait so ruthlessly for her to give in to something he will have to take back, sooner or later, lest she consumes it all.

That is the problem with company. After a while, you learn to expect it.

No, not now. She can't let him slip through her now. She shakes her head, and looks away. "What's the matter with you today?"

Something close to laughter escapes his lips then, almost incredulous, almost angry. "You have been the matter with me for quite a while now!" Yennefer turns at him sharply, and she is almost relieved in her need to fight back, and yet once she faces him, his shoulders slump. The expression that was bitter moments ago now melts into a soft thing, tender. Exhausted. "I don't want to play this game, Yennefer," his voice sounds so hollow it almost floats with the wind. "Not now."

At once, she deflates.

The thing is, it's too late. He has already slipped through, a long time ago, and so has she. It would be an injustice now, to hide from the mirror that has already walked in her shoes.

She holds her breath, looks him in the eye. Holds herself from screaming along with the blowing wind. "Something is missing," she says and her voice is cold, steady. Funny, how easily emptiness turns into a fact. She swallows, smiles. "My magic is back, and something is still missing. Simple as that."

Jaskier raises an eyebrow and she feels her lips quivering, resignation seeping inside her bones. There he goes. Winning again.

She lets go of the breath, lets go of the tightness in her body. It doesn't matter now. She closes her eyes, and her voice resembles a whimper. "Gods, Jaskier. I'm so tired."

The wind howls between them, blowing a few snowflakes over the balcony.

Suddenly, she feels gentle fingers wrapped slowly around her hands, holding them tight. She looks at Jaskier as he raises them in front of his face, running his thumbs over her knuckles and staring at them intensely, as though all her secrets are buried between the lines of her skin.

Softly, he presses a kiss there, lingers. Then, on the other hand. Something tingles in her eyes.

He doesn't let go. Only, he looks at her, a small smile on his lips. "Maybe your hands have been too cold."

It's a dangerous game, the one he wants to play. But she doesn't find it in her to step back. Perhaps because she never learns. Perhaps because, for all the coldness, she prefers the fire.

Perhaps now she can say that the only warmth that has ever welcomed her is that of a battlefield on fire, and the loving warmth of his hands.

So she smiles back.

When Jaskier slowly, carefully leads her inside, she can only follow.

[wren-of-the-woods]

Love, Joy, and Kittens

When Geralt and Yennefer finally get a room at an inn after weeks of travel, Jaskier expects to spend a calm evening with his lovers and sleep in a real bed. This plan is derailed when they find an unexpected creature in their room. Or: In which Geralt, Yennefer, and Jaskier meet a kitten. Established Geraskefer, 5k, rated T. Also on AO3!

Jaskier was having a lovely week.

Ciri had gone off with Lambert and Coën. According to Lambert, they were “having some uncle-niece bonding time.” Jaskier had suspected that this would involve a large number of explosives, cursing in various languages, and very little room for anything else, so he had suggested that he, Geralt, and Yennefer travel alone for a time and rejoin them in a few weeks. The relief on Geralt’s and Yennefer’s faces at the idea had been highly amusing. 

The three of them had been wandering the Path for almost a week. It had, for the most part, been wonderful. Jaskier got to spend time with his lovers, singing at them and making them laugh. He got to appreciate their beauty all day long. He got to spend every night cuddled up to the two of them, reveling in the warmth and safety.

However, he did not get to do any of this cuddling in an actual bed.

Their financial reserves were not exactly plentiful and, with Ciri gone, they did not have any real reason to prefer the comfort of an inn over the convenience of a bedroll in the woods. Jaskier understood all of this perfectly well. This did not mean he was happy about it. 

He may have complained about it a little bit, but, well, he was a bard. If Yennefer and Geralt didn’t want to hear a little whining now and then, they shouldn’t have brought him along. 

Jaskier hadn’t expected anything to come of his grousing. Jaskier had been wrong. 

After a particularly long day of travel, Geralt and Yennefer apparently came to an unspoken agreement. Geralt led Roach into the first town they came across and Yennefer headed in the direction of the inn. Jaskier’s confused and halfhearted objections (“What? Yen, that’s not really necessary, I know we don’t have much coin. I’m really fine, I swear!) were met with firm denial (“Shut up and let us spoil you, idiot), so Jaskier deemed it best to give in.

He made as though to protest at the price the innkeeper named for the single room that was apparently available, thinking to offer his services as a bard in exchange for a discount, but Yennefer cut him off before he could. She handed over the money and nodded in approval when Geralt began to drag him upstairs. She followed them shortly after.

“I still think I should have performed,” Jaskier was saying. He tugged halfheartedly at the grip Geralt had on his hand, though he could not claim that he really minded the touch.

“You’re exhausted,” said Geralt. 

“I think that, as irritating as the innkeeper was, this town does not quite deserve your half-asleep caterwauling,” said Yennefer with a smirk as she came up behind them. 

“Hey! I’ll have you know that you two are the only ones who I grace with my half-asleep caterwauling. Everyone else gets only my performance voice or my drunk caterwauling. Sleepy Jaskier is a gift that only you two get to see.”

“We’re grateful,” said Geralt, “But you really should sleep. Without singing.”

“Just because I’m not a great and powerful magical being doesn’t mean I can’t handle a little fatigue, Geralt.”

“Yes, and acting like a child who doesn’t want to go to bed is such a good way to prove your strength,” said Yennefer.

“Excuse me,” Jaskier said as they approached their room, “I act only with the greatest of grace and—”

A mewling sound from the other side of the door cut off his words.

It was soft enough that Jaskier barely heard it, but the way Geralt froze and stared at the door was enough to assure him that he was not imagining anything. He blinked.

“What’s that?” he asked.

Yennefer was frowning. “I don’t know, but be careful.”

“Is it magical?”

“I don’t think so.”

“It doesn’t smell like a monster,” Geralt agreed.

“Who knows what the innkeeper put in there, though?” asked Yennefer. “It could be a trap.”

“Yes. Be careful.”

The three of them stood there for a moment, staring at the door. It occurred to Jaskier that they would likely look rather comical to an outside observer.

“Well? Are we going in?” he asked.

After a moment of hesitation, Yennefer stepped forward. Slowly, carefully, she opened the door and peeked inside the room. She was silent for a long moment.

“Well? Is it dangerous?” asked Jaskier.

“I’m… not sure,” said Yennefer. Geralt stepped forward with a frown to lean over Yennefer and peek in the room as well.

“What the fuck?” said Geralt.

Jaskier’s heart pounded. He tried to get a look inside the room, but it was effectively blocked by the bodies of his witcher and witch. He stood on his tiptoes. It was no good.

“What is it?” he asked again. “A trap? A monster? Please don’t tell me we have to find somewhere else to sleep. My feet are already killing me. Why aren’t you saying anything? Is it gruesome? Can I see?”

With an irritated glance at Jaskier, Geralt stepped back. A little shakily, Yennefer opened the door and entered the room. Jaskier shoved past her and saw, sitting directly in the center of the room’s only bed—

A tiny, fluffy, orange kitten.

Its head was almost comically oversized for its body. Its tail was neatly tucked around its paws. It was looking at them with an adorably bewildered expression, appearing rather like it had just been woken up from a nap. Jaskier thought it could probably have sat in one of Geralt’s hands with very little trouble.

Jaskier stared at it. It stared back.

Jaskier burst into uncontrolled, delighted laughter.

Yennefer shot him an irritated look. Geralt shuffled awkwardly behind him. This only served to make Jaskier laugh harder.

“A kitten!” he wheezed when he caught a breath between giggles. “You were so nervous— You paranoid bastards— I cannot believe— It’s just a tiny kitten!”

“It might be a trap,” Geralt protested weakly.

“You could probably eat it in a single bite if you wanted to, Geralt!”

“That’s morbid,” said Yennefer. She sounded amused.

“And you!” said Jaskier, wheeling around to face her. “You said you didn’t know if it was dangerous! Yennefer of Vengerburg, the most powerful and feared mage on the Continent, was unnerved by a tiny little cat!”

“I can strangle you, Pankratz.”

Jaskier was overtaken by another fit of giggles.

The kitten mewled again, this time sounding rather disgruntled. Jaskier whirled around to face it.

“Oh, you poor dear. Did we wake you up from your nap? What are you doing here, anyway? Where’s your family?”

“It’s a cat,” said Yennefer. “It can’t understand you.”

“Oh, I thought it was a terrifying supernatural being capable of destroying nations.”

“On second thought, maybe strangulation is too good for you.”

Ignoring her, Jaskier approached the bed. Slowly, he held out his hand towards the kitten. It sniffed his fingers then mewled again. Gently, Jaskier stroked its head with a finger. Its eyes went wide. For a moment, Jaskier thought he had gone too far, but then the kitten pushed up into the touch. Jaskier’s heart positively melted. He kept stroking its head, unable to help the grin that spread across his face.

Behind him, he heard Geralt slowly sidle into the room. The kitten did not react.

“Are you sure it’s a real cat?” Geralt asked Yennefer. Jaskier glanced back to see him staring at the kitten, almost transfixed. “Cats don’t like witchers.”

“I don’t feel any magic,” Yennefer admitted.

“It’s kind of hard to be afraid of someone who’s halfway across the room and looking like a frightened pigeon, even if you’re a cat,” said Jaskier.

Geralt scowled and ignored him. “It can’t stay on the bed forever. We need to sleep there.”

“That is an issue,” said Jaskier thoughtfully. He turned to the kitten. “What are we going to do with you, hmm?”

“Again, it can’t understand you,” said Yennefer.

“Ignore them,” Jaskier told the kitten. “They do not understand the concept of whimsy.”

Slowly, Jaskier shifted so he was sitting on the bed beside the kitten. It did not seem overly bothered by the change. Jaskier moved to stroke its back. It looked content. Very gently, Jaskier brought a hand under its ribcage and picked it up, moving his other hand to support its hind legs and then cradling it against his chest. It mewled confusedly and squirmed a little, looking up at him, but he kept stroking it and it settled within a few moments.

He could feel its tiny chest rise and fall against his hands as it breathed. Its fur was slightly matted in places and it could probably have used a bath, but at that moment, Jaskier could not have imagined something softer or more pleasant to touch. It closed its eyes. Jaskier felt his heart melt a little more at the trust it was showing him.

He glanced up at Geralt and Yennefer to see them still on the other side of the room, looking at him with something that looked startlingly like awe.

“You can come over here,” he said instead of giving in to the flustered feelings trying to overwhelm him. “No need to cower.”

“I don’t want to scare it,” said Geralt, and Jaskier’s heart broke a little.

“You won’t scare him,” he said.

“Him?” asked Yennefer, raising an eyebrow.

Jaskier shrugged. “I’ve decided it’s a he. Orange cats usually are, I think.”

“How do you know I won’t scare him?” asked Geralt, returning them to the original topic.

“He can probably smell you perfectly well from here. If he was going to be scared, he already would be.”

Geralt hesitated. “I don’t know how to act around cats.”

“That’s okay. I’ll show you.” When Geralt still hesitated, Jaskier looked to Yennefer. “Come on. What are you waiting for?”

Yennefer frowned at him. “I’m not scared. I just don’t want to get fleas.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes. “I’m sure you can magic away fleas as easily as blinking. Get over here.”

After a quickly-hidden second of trepidation, Yennefer stepped forward. She looked at the kitten. The kitten, after a moment, looked at her.

“Mew?” he said.

Yennefer looked back at Jaskier, seeming uncharacteristically uncertain. Jaskier had to hold back a laugh.

“Come on,” he said. “Pet him.”

Slowly, Yennefer reached out to stroke a hand over his head. He blinked up at her, rather bemused.

“Keep going,” Jaskier said encouragingly.

Yennefer continued to stroke the kitten, first his head and then his back. Within a few moments, he settled and closed his eyes. He looked very content. Yennefer stared down at him with shock and a tiny bit of delight.

Jaskier decided that it was time for her to ascend to the next level.

“Here,” he said, and handed the kitten to her.

Jaskier had seen Yennefer achieve feats of unimaginable bravery. He had seen her fight her worst fears with determination, seen her battle hordes of monsters that might have made even the most skilled of witchers hesitate, seen her face down armies without flinching. Yennefer was brave. She was powerful. She was, in a word, incredible.

She was also looking down at the kitten he had just placed in her hands with an expression that could only be described as terror.

“I don’t know how—” she started to say, then cut herself off with a panicked gasp when she had to fumble with the squirming kitten to keep him from falling. He mewled indignantly.

“It’s okay,” said Jaskier, reaching forward to help. “I’ll show you. Here, you put your hand where it’ll support his weight, under the ribcage is good. Yes, just like that. Now you— yes! You’ve got it.”

Yennefer ended up sitting on the bed beside Jaskier, carefully cradling the kitten to her chest with both hands. The kitten was rather disgruntled by the whole affair, at first, but when Jaskier gently encouraged Yennefer to free a hand and continue stroking him, he settled down. He snuggled into Yennefer’s arm. After a few moments, his eyes slipped closed.

Yennefer’s eyes widened. She swallowed.

“Is he sleeping?” she asked hesitantly, her voice so soft it was almost a whisper.

“Yeah,” said Jaskier, feeling a grin spread across his face. “He’s taking a nap.”

“Oh,” she said softly.

She sat there for a long moment, quietly stroking the kitten. She seemed unable to tear her gaze away from the tiny, fluffy body in her arms. Jaskier found himself unable to tear his gaze away from her. She pet the kitten so gently that it was almost painful to watch, care and tenderness written into her every movement. Her expression could only be described as awe. In that moment, Jaskier was unable to think of anything that could possibly be more beautiful.

After a few long minutes, she looked up. Geralt was still standing against the far wall of the room, watching the little group on the bed with what appeared to be a mixture of fondness and longing. Yennefer took one look at his expression and sighed.

“Get over here,” she said. Jaskier nodded. Geralt, after a moment’s hesitation, obeyed.

His approach was slow and silent. When he came within a few paces, the kitten stirred, looking up at him with his ears slightly flattened. Geralt froze. Jaskier hushed him and scratched him under the chin, while Yennefer kept her hand resting on its back. That seemed to do the trick. The kitten settled back down into Yennefer’s arms. Jaskier gestured Geralt closer, and at his behest, the witcher sat down cautiously on Yennefer’s other side.

The kitten was still awake and watching Geralt with a little bit of wariness, but he did not seem overly bothered by the witcher’s presence. Jaskier internally cheered.

“You can pet him,” he whispered to Geralt.

“I don’t want to scare him,” Geralt said again.

“You won’t. Yennefer and I will help.”

A little bit of Yennefer’s uncertainty returned. “I can try, but—”

Jaskier waved her off. “Nonsense. He already likes you. Go ahead, Geralt.”

Geralt hesitated. “But—”

Jaskier rolled his eyes. “You can make fun of me if I’m wrong. I take responsibility for any and all kitten-related disasters. Go ahead.”

Geralt huffed, amused. Jaskier hid his smile by looking down at the kitten.

Slowly, Geralt crouched down so his head was more or less level with the kitten. He swallowed, reached out, and gently ran his head down the kitten’s neck and back.

“Mew?” said the kitten. He looked up at Geralt. He blinked.

“Keep going,” said Jaskier softly.

Geralt stroked the kitten again. When he did not panic or run away, Geralt did it again.

“He’s soft,” he whispered, entranced.

“Yeah,” said Yennefer, her voice equally quiet.

They both stared down at the kitten, who was content in Yennefer’s arms as Geralt stroked him. The kitten looked very small and helpless beneath Geralt’s big hands, but did not seem particularly bothered by that fact. Jaskier felt himself growing a little teary-eyed at the sight.

“Do you want to hold him?” Yennefer asked after a few moments.

Geralt’s eyes went wide. He glanced at Jaskier, nervous. “Do you think I can?”

“I do,” said Jaskier. “He already likes you, see?”

He gestured at the kitten, who was meowing in quiet protest at the fact that Geralt was no longer petting him. Geralt looked back at him. His face softened.

“I suppose,” he said. He looked up at Yennefer, then back at Jaskier. “Will you help me?”

Yennefer nodded.

“Of course,” said Jaskier. “Here, Yen, you can hand him to Geralt just like how you picked him up. Just support his weight— yeah, there you go. Geralt, you do the same thing.”

After a few moments of fumbling and a few disgruntled mewls from the kitten, Yennefer managed to deposit him in Geralt’s hands. Jaskier had been correct; he could have sat on just one of Geralt’s hands without too much trouble. Geralt was carefully cupping him with both of his anyway. The sight made Jaskier struggle not to dissolve into an unhelpful puddle of affection.

“What now?” asked Geralt, sounding almost as nervous as he had when Ciri first asked him to help her with her hair.

“You can put him in your lap, if you want,” said Jaskier. “You might want to get comfortable, though. Cats don’t always like to move once they have a nice person to sit on.”

After glancing at the bed consideringly, Yennefer crawled up to lean against the rather rickety headboard and patted the spot beside her. “Come on. I think we can all fit.”

Jaskier scooted up to sit near her, leaving space for Geralt between them. Geralt glanced up at them, then down at the kitten in his hands. The kitten had started to nibble on one of his fingers. After a moment of consideration, Geralt cautiously got to his knees on the bed and hobbled over to them, being careful to keep the kitten from being jostled. He settled in between Jaskier and Yennefer and set the kitten gently in his lap. The kitten flailed a little at the new position, but it took only a few moments for him to settle on one of Geralt’s thighs.

“Keep petting him,” Jaskier said encouragingly.

Geralt obeyed. On his other side, Jaskier saw Yennefer resting her head on Geralt’s shoulder and looking down at the kitten. For several moments, the three of them sat in content silence. Then—

“It’s vibrating,” said Geralt, sounding adorably terrified.

“Oh!” said Jaskier, delighted. Now that he was paying attention, he could hear the faintest of rumbling sounds from the kitten. “He’s purring, Geralt. That means he feels safe and content. He’s happy.”

“Oh,” said Geralt. His voice was filled with awe.

“We made him do that?” asked Yennefer. She spoke softly, as though trying not to interrupt the kitten’s purrs.

“Yeah,” said Jaskier, matching her tone, “We did.”

Yennefer smiled. It was not an expression of triumph or of power, not assured or sarcastic. It was not the smile she liked to show to the world. It was small and soft, tender and a little uncertain. It was directed at a small ball of orange fluff lounging in a witcher’s lap. Jaskier knew at that moment that no song he could write would come close to describing her beauty.

“I wonder where his family is,” Yennefer mused after a long few moments of content silence. “He can’t have gotten here all by himself, can he?”

“We can ask the innkeeper tomorrow,” said Jaskier. “Looks like he’s alone at the moment, though.”

“He isn’t,” said Geralt.

Jaskier blinked. “Please don’t tell me there are more cats hiding under the bed and you didn’t tell us, Geralt.”

“No.” Geralt looked rather embarrassed. “I just meant… we’re here. So he isn’t alone.”

Jaskier gave the kitten a thoughtful look. “I suppose that’s true.”

Yennefer looked back and forth between Jaskier. A small frown appeared on her face.

“He might have a family,” she said. “You can’t just take him.”

“I wasn’t going to!” Jaskier protested. “I just think he can stay with us tonight, is all.”

Yennefer looked at him skeptically. “That’s what you said when we found you trying to hide a baby griffin in your backpack.”

“That was one time—”

“It was extremely memorable and also idiotic. I am not letting you live it down anytime soon.”

Geralt casually removed one hand from the kitten to cover Jaskier’s mouth, muffling his indignant response and reducing his words to spluttering. Yennefer giggled at the sight, and Jaskier felt the fight drain out of him at the sound. Sensing his surrender, Geralt removed his hand and started to pet the kitten again before it could stop purring.

“The griffin thing was stupid, but this isn’t a griffin,” Geralt said diplomatically. “I think he can stay the night if he wants to.”

Yennefer subsided. “I don’t see why not.”

The kitten mewled a little. The three of them glanced down to see him resettling himself on Geralt’s legs, apparently having decided that he could make himself more comfortable than he already had.

“We’re going to have to move him eventually,” said Yennefer reluctantly. “We need to sleep somehow.”

Jaskier considered that for a few moments. “Maybe we can put him on one of the pillows. As long as no one rolls over in their sleep, he should be all right.”

Geralt looked doubtfully at the bed. The three them of sitting side by side were already rather squished.

Jaskier rolled his eyes in Geralt’s direction. “I don’t see you offering any better ideas.”

“I think we can make it work,” said Yennefer. “We’ve slept in smaller places.”

“All right,” said Geralt.

“I suppose we should lie down, then,” said Jaskier. Though he was reluctant to break the moment, he was still sleepy and knew that they needed to rest if they wanted to get anything done the next day.

After a few moments of shuffling and some rather disgruntled sounds from the kitten, they managed to get settled in a way that was comfortable for everyone. Geralt was on his side with an arm thrown over Jaskier’s waist. Jaskier was on his back so that Yennefer could lie half on top of him in the way she sometimes preferred. The kitten was curled up on a pillow behind Yennefer’s head. Jaskier’s arm was around Yennefer’s shoulders to keep her from rolling over in the night and crushing the kitten. 

Yennefer was warm and heavy on top of Jaskier. Geralt’s breathing was slow against his side. Jaskier drifted off within moments, feeling safe, loved, and content.

  ~

  The next morning, Jaskier was awakened by tiny and very sharp claws kneading directly on his bladder.

He yelped and flailed, trying to sit up. He was not very successful. This was mostly due to the fact that his right arm was trapped under a warm body and there was a thigh pinning his legs down. The kneading continued. Jaskier squirmed again, more frantically. He tried to free his arm to remove the pressure on his bladder, but—

Yennefer yelped as she went tumbling off the bed and thumped onto the floor.

Geralt sat up like a shot, looking around frantically and reaching for a sword on his back that was not there. Jaskier, now free, wasted no time in sitting up and gently but firmly removing the kitten from his person.

Geralt glanced between Jaskier, the kitten, and Yennefer, who had managed to sit up enough for her head to poke up above the edge of bed.

“...What?” asked Geralt weakly.

“Yeah, Jaskier, what the fuck?” asked Yennefer.

She clambered back onto the bed, giving Jaskier her most ferocious glare. The effect was slightly ruined by her spectacular bedhead.

Jaskier gestured emphatically with the kitten in his hands. “This fucker was poking me!”

Geralt frowned. “Why did that mean Yen had to fall out of the bed?”

“She was trapping my arm. I was desperate. Sorry, Yen.”

Yennefer glared at him. “I could turn you into a toad.”

“Listen, if I hadn’t removed him from my bladder we would have had a much worse situation on our hands.”

Yennefer looked at Jaskier’s apologetic face. She looked at Geralt’s expression of confusion and fond exasperation. She looked at the kitten, who looked distinctly unrepentant.

Unable to help herself, she dissolved into giggles. Jaskier was rather alarmed for a moment — had she just come up with a magnificent punishment for him? His face must have done something interesting, because Yennefer looked at him and started to laugh even harder. Behind Jaskier, Geralt chuckled a little as well.

“How did he even get to your stomach?” he asked. “He would have had to crawl over Yen’s head without waking her.”

Jaskier looked thoughtfully at the kitten. “He’s a master of stealth, I suppose.”

That sent Yennefer off into another round of laughter. Jaskier found himself unable to keep from joining her with his own helpless giggles.

Geralt looked between the two of them and shook his head fondly.

“I’m going to get us breakfast,” he said, leaving them to their merriment.

Jaskier and Yennefer had caught their breath and mostly regained their composure by the time Geralt returned with some food. Yennefer had the kitten in her lap and was petting him absently. He looked very happy with himself.

“I asked the innkeeper about him,” said Geralt, gesturing to the kitten with the hand that was not carrying their food. “She says he’s been hanging around the inn for a week or so, being fed scraps by the guests. No sign of any family, but he seems to be doing well enough. He’s healthy.”

“Is the innkeeper fine with him being here?” asked Yennefer.

“She doesn’t mind him as long as the guests are happy and he keeps some mice away, but she’s had some complaints about him sleeping on beds. She might have to find a way to get rid of him if he doesn’t stop.”

Jaskier looked down at the kitten, pensive. “I hope she doesn’t have to. It would be a shame to keep him away from people if he likes them.”

Yennefer patted Jaskier’s shoulder. “I’m sure he’ll be all right.”

Yennefer reached for the bread that Geralt was carrying and began to eat. Geralt passed another portion to Jaskier. The three of them munched their food contemplatively, looking at the kitten.

“I feel like we should name him,” mused Jaskier. “Calling him ‘the kitten’ in my head is starting to get weird. I need something to shout when I’m reprimanding him.”

“What do you want to call him, then?” asked Yennefer.

“I don’t know! What do you think?”

They sat quietly for a few minutes, the silence only broken by the kitten’s purrs.

“Well,” said Geralt when no one offered any ideas, “There’s always Ro—“

“No!” shouted Jaskier and Yennefer simultaneously.

Yennefer smacked Geralt’s shoulder. “Not Roach. You can name all the horses you want, but I draw the line at cats.”

Jaskier nodded. “We can think of something better. I believe in us.”

Geralt subsided with a huff. There was another moment of thoughtful silence.

“Cirilla the Second?” suggested Yennefer.

Jaskier flopped back down onto the bed, buried his face in a pillow, and groaned loudly. “I loathe you both.”

“I don’t see you having any better ideas,” Yennefer protested. Jaskier groaned again and rolled onto his back.

“What have I done to deserve this?” he asked the ceiling.

“Is that an insult or a compliment?” asked Yennefer with a smirk.

“It can be both.”

“I’m not so sure. That would require complicated things like nuance and finesse. I am not sure a bard of your caliber could keep up. Perhaps we need someone more practiced, for instance Vald—”

“How about Mackerel?” Geralt said loudly and rather desperately, cutting Yennefer off before disaster could strike.

Jaskier and Yennefer both fell silent. They looked at Geralt. They looked at the kitten. They looked back at Geralt.

“Is your entire repertoire of names made up of fish?” asked Yennefer, and Jaskier burst into laughter.

Geralt looked on with some disgruntlement as Jaskier’s guffaws slowly faded into giggles.

“What?” he asked. “It’s a decent name.”

Yennefer rolled her eyes. “Retrospectively, I’m grateful you didn’t go back to claim Ciri when she was young. The poor girl would have ended up saddled with the name Perch.”

“You are an idiot,” said Jaskier to Geralt. “An utter and complete moron. I love you.”

“Hmm,” Geralt said, flustered.

“Do you have any better names, Jaskier?” asked Yennefer.

“Absolutely not. Mackerel is hilarious. We’re keeping it.”

Yennefer sighed but failed to hide her smile. “Oh, fine.”

They finished their breakfast in companionable silence. When they were finished, they sat on the bed for a while longer. It was comfortable, after all, and they were in no particular hurry. Jaskier determinedly did not think about any other reasons he might have for not wanting to leave the inn.

“We can’t stay here forever,” Geralt said eventually, reluctant.

Yennefer sighed. “Yeah, we’ll have to get going if we want to meet Ciri and Geralt’s idiot brothers in time.”

Jaskier hauled himself to his feet.

“Let’s get to it, then!” he said with false cheer.

With practiced ease, they packed up their things. They were ready to leave within minutes.

They did not leave.

The three of them dithered in the room. Geralt gazed out the window. Yennefer checked corners for anything they might have somehow lost. Jaskier fidgeted with his notebook.

“Well,” said Yennefer, “I suppose it’s time to go.”

She went to stand in the doorway. Geralt and Jaskier joined her.

None of them moved.

They looked back at the kitten, who was once again on the bed. Mackerel looked back at them. He meowed.

Yennefer heaved a deep, longsuffering sigh. “We’re taking him with us, aren’t we?”

Geralt sighed. “We might.”

Jaskier whooped so loudly that it startled Mackerel. He darted back to the bed and scooped the kitten up in his arms. Mackerel mewled in complaint.

Jaskier stroked his head in apology. “Sorry for startling you, darling, but you’ll be much happier about it soon. You’re coming with us! You’ll get to see the continent. You’ll get to experience all sorts of varied and delightful table scraps. It’ll be lovely.”

Across the room, Jaskier heard Yennefer trying to stifle a laugh. He ignored her.

“You’ll get to meet so many people,” he said to Mackerel. “You’ll get to explore the world. You can meet our family, too—”

Jaskier cut himself off with a gasp and turned to Geralt and Yennefer, his eyes shining. “Ciri is going to love him!”

“Oh,” said Yennefer with a grin. “Oh, she really will. This is going to be great.”

Jaskier nodded enthusiastically. “This is going to be the best decision we’ve ever made, I can feel it.”

“What do kittens eat?” Geralt asked reasonably, looking rather exasperated at their antics. “We can’t just let him starve.”

“We’ll figure it out,” said Jaskier. “He can’t be that hard to feed.”

Yennefer nodded. “He’s been living off scraps and what he can catch so far. I’m sure he’ll be all right.”

“It’ll be dangerous on the path,” said Geralt.

Jaskier scoffed. “Mackerel is a smart cat. He can take care of himself.”

Geralt looked as though he might protest again, but at that moment, Mackerel meowed. Geralt looked down at the tiny ball of fur in Jaskier’s arms. Jaskier saw the exact moment Geralt’s last arguments drained away in the face of the adorable creature in front of him.

“I suppose he can come,” said Geralt with a sigh.

Jaskier whooped again. Mackerel meowed. Yennefer laughed. Geralt, seemingly despite himself, smiled.

The three of them shouldered their packs, Jaskier passing Mackerel to Geralt to free his hands. They left their room. On their way out of the inn, Yennefer stopped to let the innkeeper know they were taking Mackerel while Geralt retrieved Roach from the stables. The innkeeper seemed happy enough with the idea and waved at them with a smile as they left. 

They set off on the Path, with Geralt leading Roach and Yennefer and Jaskier walking beside him. It was just like any other day in the last week — except this time, there was a tiny orange head poking out of one of Roach’s saddlebags, and Yennefer was having a hard time suppressing a smile. Even Geralt looked visibly content. 

Jaskier’s lovers were happy. They had, somehow, despite everything, adopted a cat. Despite Yennefer and Geralt’s persistent issues with attachment and commitment, they had agreed to take a kitten with them on their travels for no reason other than sentiment and sympathy. Jaskier was so very proud of them. 

Stopping at that inn was the best decision they ever made. 

[fandom-junk-drawer]

The Witcher Headcanon - Purring Bonus Scene - Part 4

Jaskier thought he knew all of Geralt's purrs. He purred when he was happy, when he was anxious, and when he was hurt or sick. And Jaskier had learned that each one had its own unique sound. Now he could read Geralt's moods by his purrs as easily as he could by his 'Hmm's.

It kind of irritated Geralt because he couldn't hide much from him now. Jaskier had always been very talented at reading people, and had very quickly learned to read all Geralt's subtle expressions, grunts, and body language. Geralt sometimes wondered if the bard didn't have some Fae blood in his family line because it sure seemed as if he could read his f***ing mind sometimes.

Geralt was just waiting for the day that Jaskier would predict, probably down to the minute, when Geralt would have to take a sh*t. And he would probably do it in the middle of one of his sets. In a crowded tavern. Or at a banquet.

Yeah, it would be at a banquet. And he would stop right in the middle of his song and yell in full bardic voice, "You might want to go find the privy, Geralt! I can tell by the way your left eyebrow just twitched that you are going to need to take a truly massive sh*t. You better squeeze those cheeks together and get moving. You've got maybe five minutes before that Food Baby gets born!"

And then Yennefer, from where ever she would be lurking in the hall, would add "And don't forget to wipe your a**!"

If that day ever came, Geralt would be the first Witcher in history to die of embarrassment.

Geralt's sardonic thoughts were interrupted by Jaskier's coughing. The bard had picked up a cold in the last town. It didn't sound like it was anything serious, but they were still going to stop in Vengerberg to let him rest before they continued on to Kaer Morhen. Hunting had been bad this year, so Geralt decided there was no reason why he couldn't go home early.

The bard was sitting by the campfire where he had been restringing his lute and was now trying to tune it. Geralt saw him slowly flex the fingers of one hand, and noticed the slight tremor in the digits. He watched him then squeeze the opposite forearm.

Geralt frowned to himself as Jaskier surreptitiously shook his arms and hands out, and forced them back to attending to his lute. He smelled like sickness, and...pain.

Jaskier had broken both his forearms two winters ago at Kaer Morhen, and Geralt knew what this Autumn chill was doing to the old injuries. He rose, rubbing at his own knee for a moment before hobbling over to the fire.

Jaskier blinked in surprise as his lute was lifted away. A hot stone wrapped in rags was placed in his hands, and he was then pulled face first against a warm chest that was vibrating with a rumbly purr.

Jaskier was going to protest, but the heat from the stone was chasing the ache from his forearms, and he suddenly realized that he was a little bit cold. And pretty tired. And his body ached. They had been traveling most of the morning. Oooh, that purring was...niiiice. The vibration felt good in his hands and arms... Wait, was that Geralt's Hurt purr? No, no, this one was different. It was quieter, steadier...

Geralt didn't know how the purr happened. He'd been trying to Hurt purr, because that was what always helped him when he was in pain, but somehow, it came out different. He felt the second when it hit a rhythm and frequency that...felt right. This was how he needed to purr to make Jaskier feel better.

Geralt purred until he heard Jaskier's heartbeat find a steady rhythm that told him the pain was gone, or at least diminished to where it was tolerable.

"Let's get to Vengerberg so you can rest."

They rode the rest of the day until they reached Vengerberg, and they went straight to Yennefer's house. The mage was waiting, looking as usual, as if their presence were an inconvenience. It wavered for a split second as she watched a pale, tired-looking Jaskier slither down from the saddle.

She grumbled as she led them inside and showed them to their rooms.

"Ugh! Now I have to look at you for the next few days!" Yennefer commented as she strode into Jaskier's room a few minutes later with Geralt at her heels.

"Look on the bright side. It's a nice change from looking at the ugly you see in the mirror every day!" Jaskier replied in a half-hearted, nasally grumble from where he was sitting on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. Yennefer could hear him wheezing slightly with each exhale.

"Ha! Like you look any better right now!" Yennefer quipped as Jaskier started coughing. She made a face as he gagged up a blob of phlegm and leaned over the edge of the bed.

"Don't you dare spit that on my floor, you uncouth savage!"

Jaskier glared at her, then spat the greenish gob into his hand and wiped it on his shirt.

"That's disgust-! You're disgusting!" She snapped. Her tone was sharp, but Geralt saw that her hands were gentle as she pressed them to Jaskier's cheeks, and then the sides of his neck, before slipping her hand down the back of his shirt.

Yennefer ignored Geralt's knowing 'Hm'. She could feel a little bit of fever in the bard's skin and she could tell by the way he kept wincing that his head hurt. At least his breathing wasn't too bad.

"Yeah? Well...your mother." Jaskier mumbled in one last attempt to keep up the Mortal Enemies act as the witch ran a hand tenderly through his hair.

Yennefer saw him cringe.

"Sorry, Yen... I'm not exactly at my best right now."That had definitely not been one of his wittiest comebacks.

Yennefer leaned in and placed a soft kiss to his temple.

"It's alright, dear heart," She said sympathetically as she slipped under his other arm as Geralt helped him up. "Let's get you into the bath and then put you to bed."

Jaskier heaved a wheezy sigh. He was too tired and light-headed to reply, so he let them slowly lead him to the washroom, where a tub of steaming hot water and a roaring fire waited.

Jaskier drank the potion Yennefer handed him after he'd finished with his bath, then curled up in the bed, tucked up against his personal heater, smelling of the herbs Yennefer had dumped into the bath water to help his breathing. He lay there, listening to the rumble of Geralt's purr.

The vibration of it felt nice. It helped take his attention away from the discomfort in his arms. Or was it easing the pain? Is this why Geralt would purr when he was hurt? Is this what it felt like to him? Was it like a painkiller? Was this some kind of, of Healing purr?

Jaskier wanted to ponder that line of thought more, but the rhythmic sound and vibration of Geralt's purring was making it hard to think of much of anything. The thoughts came sluggishly, then flitted away leaving his mind pleasantly empty. There was just the purring and the warmth.

He shifted, summoning the energy to roll over and clumsily resituate himself. He put his arm over Geralt's stomach and rested his head on his chest. That was better...

Geralt continued purring until he felt Jaskier completely relax. His breathing was deep and even, if a little congested. Geralt slowly eased his sleeping friend off him, settling him on his back so he could breathe easier.

He shushed him when he stirred, snuffling and clumsily rubbing the back of his hand over his eyes as he muttered groggily. Geralt pulled the blankets up over him, and laid his hand on his chest so he could feel that he was there. Jaskier settled back down after a few moments, falling back asleep.

Geralt made sure there was enough wood on the fire, then went to help Yennefer.

He spent the following days helping out around the house when he wasn't cuddled up to Jaskier, purring.

Jaskier improved quickly over the next three days. He was recovering from the cold faster than Yennefer expected. His fever had broken the first night, and the congestion was all but gone now. The cough lingered, but Yennefer was not concerned about it. Coughs sometimes didn't clear up for a week or two.

Jaskier had entertained himself while he recovered by discussing his theory about Geralt's purring with Yennefer. The sorceress hadn't dismissed his thoughts as he'd expected her to. Instead, she seemed quite interested in hearing them, and the two of them would discuss and compare theories and observations until Jaskier started drifting off. Geralt was often dragged into their discussions for his personal perspective and experiences.

When Jaskier was finally fit to travel, he left with a thick, warm jacket, a bag full of potions for when his arms ached, and a brand new notebook to start recording his thoughts, ideas, and observations. He promised that when they next saw each other, Yennefer could help him organize his notes.

Geralt had rolled his eyes and braced himself for a long winter.

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 48

Jaskier is feeling insecure. This isn't new. He makes sure everyone always thinks he's at the height of his confidence, but he has bad days. Many times, actually. He had been working up the courage to tell Geralt how he feels, but he saw Geralt and Yennefer talking and it just started digging around in his brain. He's not nearly as pretty as Yennefer, and certainly not as powerful. He's just the annoying bard that follows Geralt around. Geralt is confused when Jaskier is suddenly trying to do everything and anything for Geralt. He's trying out eight different new hobbies, none of which suit him, and all of which being things that are purely practical. When Geralt finally confronts Jaskier about it, Jaskier breaks down over how he'll never be as good as Geralt's previous lovers, and Geralt finally finds his words in order to describe all the many things Jaskier does amazingly and every little quirk that Geralt adores.

[alpaca-clouds]

Mint Leaves [Fluffcember Day 29 - Triss & Yennefer]

Today's story for @fluff-cember features a friendship, where I am so darn surprised to see that this tag does not yet exist. o.ô

Mint Leaves

Fandom: The Witcher Relationship: Triss & Yennefer Genre: Fluff

Triss tries to memorize the medical use of different herbs, when one of her friends interrupts her.

[thewritersaddictions]

Christmas Stories 2023 Master List

Welcome to the Christmas Stories 2023 Master List

A/n- There will be some fluff for and during the Christmas time. This is 24 days of fluff, with a mixture of Christmas-themed songs and movies. Yes 'the nightmare before Christmas' is a Christmas movie.

Word Count- 19,868k

Series Master List

Day 1- Solider Boy + Baby, it's cold outside.

Day 2- Billy Hargrove + National Lampoons Christmas Vacation.

Day 3- Karl Heisenberg + Violent Night

Day 4- Jim Hopper + Sleigh Ride

Day 5- Eddie Munson + Scrooged

Day 6- Geralt + Germlins

Day 7- Damon Salvatore + Grinch

Day 8- John Price + Here Comes Santa Claus

Day 9- Simon “Ghost” Riley + It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas

Day 10- Koing + Home Alone

Day 11- Steve Harrington + Mele Kalikimaka

Day 12- Luis Serra + Elf

Day 13- Klaus Mikealson + Die Hard

Day 14- Steve Rogers + Have yourself a merry little Christmas

Day 15- Aaron Hotchner + Frosty the snowman

Day 16- Jaskier + Santa Baby

Day 17- Alcina Dimitrescu + A Christmas Story

Day 18- Daryl Dixon + Home Alone 2 Lost in New York

Day 19- James 'Bucky' Barnes + Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow

Day 20- Joel Miller + Winter Wonderland

Day 21- Leon S. Kennedy + Holly Jolly Christmas

Day 22- Negan Smith + The Nightmare Before Christmas

Day 23- John “Soap” MacTavish + Feliz Navidad

Day 24- Rick Grimes + I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus

Completed on: (12/24/23)

Posted on: (09/20/23) - (12/01/23)

Christmas Stories Tags- @dackwccgjd @alex000sstuff @elenaguarnieri @emilyrosetravis @magnificentalpacabird @crazybooklover33 @yourfavthiopoan @peachbunnieluv @jokenotfunny @pastanoodles11 @hyunjinbiased-blog @tuquoquebrute @kjah97 @is-being-ignored-a-hobby @kiwi-lanes @welcomethefears @elenenvy @multifandom456 @sweatshirtXO @g8sstuff @rottendorkmomo @emmasstuff2415

[dotlookstired]

It’s kinda cringe as fuck, but I made a multi chapter Witcher fanfic. Lots of cute Lambert/Aiden.

Winter was always a tough time in the keep. The howling winds, negative temperatures, and chest-high snowdrifts weren’t the worst of it—no, it was the lack of non-destructive and harmless outlets for everyone to focus their energy on. With nothing to hunt, no contracts to fulfill, and no outside work to be done due to the snowstorms, the inhabitants of the keep turned a bit crazy. Boredom had brought out their “creativity” in the most spectacular and worst ways.

“Lambert, if you blow up the lab one more time, I’m throwing you out into the snow without boots,” Vesemir growled, his voice echoing down the frigid halls.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, old man,” Lambert shot back, though his mischievous smirk said otherwise. He leaned casually against a wall, tossing a small vial of something volatile-looking between his hands.

Lambert had been an absolute menace, teasing and bothering just about everyone in the keep and blowing things up with his experiments in the lab. He’d been intentionally prickly to everyone except for his boyfriend, Aiden, but even he wasn’t exempt—Lambert had unintentionally gotten on his nerves as well.

Speaking of Lambert’s boyfriend, behind him—or more like above him—was the stir-crazy Cat Witcher who had miraculously survived an assassination attempt by his brothers a year earlier, escaping with only a missing eye and a damaged eardrum. He sat on one of the running support beams for the roof, occasionally flipping down to the floor and then back up again. If Lambert’s shenanigans weren’t enough, Aiden’s “zoomies,” as Lambert had explained it, and his insistence on climbing everything in sight only added to Vesemir’s growing headache. At least he was cleaning the rafters as he went—Vesemir had reluctantly handed him a duster after the third time he’d climbed to the highest point in the keep without going outside to “stretch.”

Geralt, meanwhile, had come down with some seasonal depression and had isolated himself from the rest of the keep. He only emerged to train Ciri briefly before retreating once again. Yennefer, frustrated with Geralt’s reclusiveness, had spent the past week bossing everyone else around and had gotten into a spat with pretty much everyone in the keep, even Ciri—but she especially had it out for Lambert and Dandelion. One morning while she was bathing, Lambert, having had enough of her, seized the opportunity while her guard was down and threw a snowball at her. That had led to a shouting match that still echoed in Vesemir’s ears.

Eskel wasn’t much better. Because his brothers had been caught up in other things and didn’t feel like interacting with him very much, he’d been very clingy and had not let Vesemir have a single moment to himself—until Vesemir had assigned him to look after an orphaned baby goat after its mother died. The sight of the hulking Witcher cradling the tiny creature like a newborn had at first been endearing. But now he had become obsessed with the goat and was treating it as if it were his actual son. Vesemir’s patience was tested when he heard Eskel softly cooing, “Shhh, darling, it’s just a storm,” to the goat in his room one night during a particularly bad blizzard.

Dandelion had gotten severe writer’s block for writing anything decent and had started composing roast ballads in which he mocked whoever had gotten on his nerves that day (almost always Yennefer).

Coën was in the infirmary with relatively minor injuries considering he had been attacked by a bear. One morning, he had been fishing on the local river and had caught quite a large salmon. However, a hungry bear had noticed and also wanted his fish. Coën did not want to share, and a struggle ensued that ended with Coën coming home with not only a salmon but also a bear for dinner.

Even Ciri was joining in the chaos. Because Geralt was too depressed to spend much time with her and Yennefer was in such a terrible mood, she’d started clinging to Vesemir. When she wasn’t clinging to Vesemir, she was helping Lambert with his projects and mayhem, trying to watch and imitate Aiden’s parkour, or sewing Eskel’s goat a little outfit. The keep smelled of singed wood and sulfur more often than not, and Vesemir was certain the explosive sound earlier had something to do with her and his youngest son.

Vesemir sighed. The keep needed order. Or at least a distraction.

The rumors came with the latest supply run from the village at the base of the mountain. A fox-like creature had been spotted in the woods, strange and humanoid, with glowing eyes that unnerved even the bravest hunters. Stranger still, the creature seemed to curse those who encountered it—transforming them into either animals or elderly for a few days before the curse wore off on its own.

At first, Vesemir dismissed it as winter boredom. The villagers, like the witchers, had little to do in the cold months but gossip and weave tall tales. But the stories were persistent, and strange enough that they couldn’t be ignored. Vesemir gathered his pups and honorary pups around the hearth.

“You’re all going to investigate,” he announced, his voice leaving no room for argument. “The fox creature. At the base of the mountain.”

“You just want the keep to yourself,” Lambert muttered, earning a sharp glare from Vesemir.”Yes, I indeed would like a few days where nothing explodes, and with no goats are in my house,” he said.

Ciri perked up. “I want to go too!”

But Geralt placed a hand on her forehead. “Not with the fever you currently have, you’re not. You’re staying here.” Ciri scowled but didn’t argue. “Eww, stay away, keep your plague to yourself” Lambert sneered as he took a few steps away from the sick teen.

Yennefer, overhearing that Gerlat was leaving and not being able to tolerate being alone with Dandelion, quickly volunteered herself for a “vacation” away from the madness, leaving Vesemir to babysit a sick Ciri and a creatively blocked Dandelion.

The Witchers—Geralt, Eskel, Lambert, Coën, and Aiden—set out into the snow. By the time they reached the village at sunset, the welcoming warmth they were used to was nowhere to be found. Most humans were hostile toward Witchers, but this village had always been different—trading food and supplies and offering shelter in return for protection. Something had changed. Doors remained shut, and familiar faces turned away.

The new mayor, who had seemingly taken over by force, was a staunch bigot. He’d declared all non-humans unwelcome, expelling those who had called the village home and imprisoning any humans who stood up for them. His glare lingered on Aiden in particular. Not only was the Cat Witcher a Witcher, but he was also three-quarters Sun Elf, a fact unmistakable from his appearance. In truth, no one would suspect any human ancestry in him unless he explicitly disclosed it.

Geralt stepped forward. “We’re here to help. The fox creature—”

“We don’t need your kind of help,” the mayor snapped. “Leave. Now.”

Disgusted, the Witchers turned away.

“Well, it’s not like the creature is in the village—it’s outside, in the woods,” Eskel said, trying to lighten the mood.

“Yes, but I’m not sure we’re going to be able to find it in the dark,” Lambert replied bitterly. “The creature has only been reported during daylight so far, and I really don’t want to sleep in the cold, snowy woods. We also didn’t bring much food or sleeping gear because the villagers usually accommodate us.”

As they neared the edge of the village, a woman gathering firewood hesitated before hurrying over to them.

“I’m sorry,” she said in a hushed voice. “The mayor doesn’t speak for all of us.”

Coën was about to respond when he shivered and flinched in pain from his still-healing wounds. The woman noticed and asked if he was okay, but he assured her he would be fine. Lambert, however, wasn’t convinced Coën would manage a night in the woods and voiced his concerns openly.

At this, the woman paused, her expression thoughtful.

The Witchers watched her closely, curiosity evident in their faces.

Finally, she spoke up. “Can you guys move quietly enough that no one would notice you?”

“If you can sneak into my barn, you can stay there for the night. I’ll bring food and blankets.”

The Witchers exchanged glances.

“We’d be grateful,” Geralt said.

The barn was warm, insulated with hay stacked in the loft. Lambert flopped onto a bale with a sigh of relief. “Better than freezing to death in the woods,” he muttered.

As they settled in, however, they noticed that Coën was shaking. Coën caught everyone staring at him. “I’m fine, just a little cold,” he said.

Eskel walked over and placed a hand on Coën’s forehead, finding it too warm. “You’ve got a fever. Maybe you caught what Ciri had?” he suggested.

Coën shook his head. “No, I don’t feel sick—just... off,” he replied.

Eskel pulled up Coën’s tunic to examine his wounds. His frown deepened. “You’ve pulled some stitches, I'll have to redo them. You also might have an infection. Does anyone have any medicine?”

Geralt opened his mouth to answer, but before he could speak, a sudden sneeze echoed from above. Everyone glanced up to see a sniffly, trembling Aiden perched on a rafter.

Aiden cleared his throat. “Sorry—it’s dusty up here,” he lied.

“Well, come down, then. I want to go to sleep anyway,” Lambert told him.

In truth, Aiden wasn’t feeling well enough to climb down. He’d been feeling off since halfway through their journey down the mountain, but it hadn’t fully hit him until now, when he had a chance to relax. Still, he didn’t want to worry anyone. If he’d been with his Cat brethren, he knew he’d likely be berated—or even left behind—if they realized he was sick while on a mission.

Aiden shook his head, immediately regretting it as dizziness washed over him. “Why don’t you come up here and sleep, love?” he suggested, trying to hide how rough his voice sounded.

Lambert narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “I can’t balance up there while sleeping. I’d fall and break my neck, and you know Wolves don’t share the Cat obsession with high places,” he reasoned.

“Well, the hay is gross. What if it has bugs in it?” Aiden countered, his voice rasping despite his efforts to hide it. “I’ll just stay up here by myself if you won’t join me.”

Lambert’s suspicion deepened, tinged with a bit of hurt that Aiden didn’t seem to want to lie with him. He was about to press further when the farm woman appeared, carrying a pile of blankets, a pot of warm tea with honey, bowls of delicious-smelling stew, and a first-aid kit.

“I thought, given how sick the injured one looked, some herbal tea with honey might help, along with fresh bandages,” she said, glancing at Coën, who offered a weak smile. “And with all of you being out in the cold all day, I thought some warm stew would be nice.”

“Thank you,” Eskel said gratefully. “We’d be in much worse shape without your kindness—especially since it looks like another one of us is coming down with something.” His gaze shifted upward to Aiden, who was now lying on the roof rafter.

Aiden raised an eyebrow, his glowing yellow Cat eye peering down at them. The farm woman startled, clearly unnerved. Aiden tried to jump down as he normally would, but his strength failed him.

He began to fall—but Lambert reacted quickly, catching him before he hit the ground.

“Easy, love. I’ve got you,” Lambert said, cradling Aiden. “You’re burning up!”

Aiden mumbled something incoherent to Lambert before managing a rasping apology to the farm woman. She waved it off with a kind smile, setting the supplies down.

“There’s medicine in the kit,” she said gently. “Take care of each other. I’ll keep watch for the mayor.”

The Witchers decided to prioritize tending to the sick and injured before anything else. They laid blankets over the hay bales to create makeshift beds and carefully helped Aiden and Coën out of their armor. Both of them were visibly exhausted. While Coën allowed himself to be gently guided to his makeshift bed, Aiden was far more reluctant.

He had been terrified of any medical treatment ever since the trauma caused by the surgeries he underwent after surviving an assassination attempt by his brothers. The injuries, including an arrow that had to be removed from his eye and brain, along with other severe wounds, left deep physical and emotional scars. Given that Witchers don’t have much money, anesthetic hadn’t been an option for most of the procedures, making the experience all the more harrowing.

Lambert sighed in frustration. “Your child has given Aiden her plague!” he hissed at Geralt.

Geralt, too focused on helping Eskel tend to Coën, barely acknowledged him, muttering a distracted, “Neat.”

This only made Lambert angrier. “This is not neat! As I’m sure you’re aware, a virus must be particularly nasty to have any effect on a witcher!” he screeched, his voice rising enough to make Coën flinch and Aiden cover both his functioning ear and his barely functioning one.

Realizing his outburst was affecting Coën and Aiden, Lambert muttered an apology before turning his attention back to Aiden.

“Relax, love,” Lambert murmured, crouching beside his partner. “I’ll be right next to you soon enough. Unless you’ve been hiding injuries from us, you don’t need stitches like Coën,” he added with a small smile, trying to lighten the mood. “We just need to check your temperature and maybe give you some medicine, that’s all.”

Aiden’s single cat-like eye was hazy with fever, and he swayed slightly, clearly disoriented. Lambert gently guided him to lie down, though Aiden, still foolishly trying to convince the group he was fine, muttered a few sleepy protests about “being fine.” The heat radiating off him was alarming, and Lambert suspected the fever was making him delirious.

Meanwhile, Eskel began re-stitching Coën’s wounds. The Griffen School witcher winced but stayed mostly calm as Eskel worked, talking softly to distract him. When Eskel was finished, he gave Coën a dose of antibiotics. Coën, though pale and weak, swallowed the pills without resistance, muttering his thanks before curling up under the blankets.

Aiden, however, was a different story.

Geralt joined Lambert to help him check an uncooperative Aiden’s temperature, which turned out to be dangerously high. Lambert frowned, brushing damp hair away from his lover’s sweat-soaked forehead. “That’s not good,” he muttered.

Eskel, after finishing with Coën, returned with the first aid kit. “If it’s that high, we’ll need to get some medicine into him,” he said, rummaging through the supplies. Unfortunately, the fever medication had to be injected.

Lambert paled at the sight of the syringe, glancing down at Aiden, who was now mumbling incoherently. He knew very well of the Cat Witchers' deep trauma surrounding medical procedures. Lambert had even been present for some of the gruesome procedures.

As Lambert tried to reason with Aiden, Eskel prepared the syringe. “Aiden, you need this,” Lambert said, cupping his lover’s flushed cheek. “It’ll help, I promise.”

But Aiden’s eyes widened and his pointy ears folded back defensively at the sight of the needle, and he instinctively tried to pull away, weakly struggling despite his fever.

Geralt, who had also had a bit of medical trauma from the additional experimentation as a White Wolf, knelt beside Lambert. “Aiden, please be reasonable. I know you’re scared—these kinds of things make me uncomfortable as well, I know how you feel. But if we don’t do this, the fever could kill you.”

The words didn’t seem to reach Aiden, who shook his head furiously, tears welling up in his yellow eye. “I don't want anymore poking and prodding” he rasped, his voice weak and scratchy. “Please, no…”

Lambert ran a hand through his non-existent hair, clearly distressed. He didn’t want to hold Aiden down or force him, but the fever was getting worse. He glanced helplessly at Geralt and Eskel.

“Can either of you jab him while the other restrains him?” Lambert asked in a low voice. “I… I can’t bring myself to do it. I don’t want to hurt him.”

Geralt sighed. “I’ll hold him. I’ve been where he is—I can’t jab him either.”

Eskel nodded. “I’ll do it, but you need to stay with him, Lambert. He’s going to need you.”

Lambert nodded, though he was already feeling guilty at the thought of what they were about to do. Slowly, Geralt approached Aiden, who blinked blearily up at him. “Hey, Aiden,” Geralt said as gently as he could with his gruff voice, sitting down beside him. “I’m just going to sit here, okay?”

Aiden hesitated but nodded sluggishly. Geralt carefully slipped an arm around him, then swiftly pulled the feverish Cat Witcher slightly onto his lap. Aiden startled at the sudden movement, his body tense, but Geralt began running a soothing hand over his arm. “Shh… It’s okay,” he murmured. Aiden’s tension eased slightly, and he started purring softly, the sound vibrating weakly against Geralt’s chest.

Lambert joined them, sitting beside Aiden and taking his hand in his own. He pressed a kiss to Aiden’s knuckles. “I’m here, love,” he whispered, squeezing Aiden’s hand.

Aiden’s purring grew louder, and for a moment, it seemed like they might get through it without much resistance. But as Eskel approached with the syringe, realization dawned on Aiden, and panic flared in his fevered eye. He started weakly struggling, begging them to stop.

“Don’t! Please, don’t!” Aiden pleaded, his voice breaking.

Lambert cupped Aiden’s face, turning his head away from the needle. “Look at me, Aiden. Just look at me, okay?” he said softly. “It’ll be over before you know it. You’re strong—you’ve been through worse than this.”

Eskel took the opportunity to quickly jab the syringe into Aiden’s arm. The Cat Witcher let out a sharp cry, his body tensing as he tried to pull away. Geralt tightened his grip, holding him steady while Lambert continued to murmur reassurances.

“It’s okay,” Geralt said firmly, his hand still stroking Aiden’s hair. As Eskel pushed the plunger down and withdrew the needle, Aiden’s cries turned into soft whimpers. Geralt loosened his hold, and Aiden immediately wriggled free, drunkenly and wobbly climbing and retreating to the rafters of the barn while Lambert tried to stop him, fearing he'd fall again. He perched there, trembling and blankly staring into the void with tears rolling down his face, his ears twitching every once and a while with agitation.

Lambert sighed, running a hand over his face. “I hate this,” he muttered.

“We did what we had to,” Eskel said gently, though his expression was troubled.

Coën fell asleep almost immediately after eating, exhausted from his injuries and infection. Eskel wasn’t far behind, snoring softly on his hay bale. Geralt and Lambert, however, stayed awake, trying to coax Aiden down from his perch with a bowl of stew.

Eventually, the medicine seemed to take effect, and Aiden began to think more clearly. He cautiously climbed down from the rafters, though he kept his distance from the others. He sat with his back to them, nibbling at the stew in silence, refusing to meet their eyes.

Lambert approached slowly, sitting down beside him. “Let’s take this off for the night, it’s not good for it to be covered 24/7” he said as he reached for Aiden's eyepatch, but the Cat Witcher flinched away.

The rejection stung, but Lambert didn’t push.

“I’m sorry,” Lambert said quietly. “I didn’t want to do that to you, with what you’ve been through.”

Aiden didn’t respond, his ears flattened against his head. But the fact that he’d come down at all was a small victory. Lambert decided to give him space, hoping that with time, Aiden would forgive him.

Outside, the horrifying scream of an unfamiliar creature echoed through the hills. Geralt’s eyes narrowed as he stared out the barn window. “It’s close,” he said.

“Good,” Lambert muttered, his voice low. “I need something to stab.”

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Hello, I am hoping that you have a good day. I don't remember if I already sent in a request so if I did just ignore this one and I apologize. I was hoping that I could get a Star wars, harry potter, and the witcher, and disney romantic matchup. I am a straight man

Appearance: I am 5ft 11in. I have very curly black hair, dark brown eyes, olive skin, and a beard. I am a burly man with a chubby belly.

Personality: I am introverted but when I get to know people I am very talkative and at ease. I have ADHD and I have minor autistim so I love to discuss whatever area of interest is in my brain that day. People describe me as a very kind, funny person. I am easy to get along with and I am very relaxed and easygoing. I have a bad memory from a head wound but when someone is important I put a lot of work into remembering things about them(writing notes, keeping lists of their likes and dislikes, important dates, etc). Because I have a bad memory I tell the same stories over and over again. I care a lot about my family and friends and I am very loyal to them.

Likes: When people are kind, when someone is passionate about something, Someone who is a good listener.

Dislikes: being mean/rude to people(especially service workers) or animals, making fun of peoples interests

Hobbies: outdoors stuff(hiking, camping, rock climbing, etc), painting/drawing, video games, reading, music

HI! I am sorry for this matchup to be sent so late, but I hope you love it nonetheless! <3333

---

(Romantic);

---

Star Wars;

Leia Organa:

⭐ You met Leia when you, Han, Luke, Chewie, R2D2, and C3PO rescued her - you were a bit quiet at first, but after she started talking, asking you questions, you found yourself answering

⭐ After everyone got out, you and Leia ended up talking a lot; you even got her to laugh a couple of times - all the while, you are also making a small list about Leia, so you could remember all the things she told you she liked and didn't

⭐ When you, Luke, and Han were gifted the medals, you and Leia made eye contact, and for the first time in forever, you felt this sort of connection with her; it made your soul feel warm - she felt completely the same

⭐ After Hoth and finding yourself in the care of the sweetest IRL care bears, you and Leia danced to the music, and the both of you found yourselves wandering around in the forests near the camp - the music was quiet, but neither of you noticed, too caught up in your conversation

⭐ You ended up staying with Leia, going and following her wherever she want, and she immensely enjoyed the company - and when she became Commander Organa, you became her right-hand man

---

Harry Potter;

Hermione Granger:

📚 You met Hermione after Hogwarts and after the battle, you worked at Hogsmeade, at the small sweets shop; you held stock shelves and sometimes helped with customers, but during one of your work days on the floor, that was when you met Hermione

📚 She asked you where a certain sweet was located, saying it was a gift for a friend - you were a bit nervous speaking to her, but you expertly led her to the sweet that she was wanting; and from then on, she kept coming back to the shop, sometimes not even buying anything, just wanting to talk to you

📚 On you lunch break, Hermione would enter the shop and the both of you would walk about Hogsmeade before going to The Three Broomsticks for lunch - there, you and Hermione got to really now each other, swapping your likes, dislikes, hobbies, and so on

📚 Hermione is very supportive and understanding towards you with whatever you might forget; she is always more than okay repeating something to you - she completely understands ♥

📚 At one point, as your relationship began to blossom, you and Hermione would swap books with each other - you would also meet at each other's homes to paint, read, and even hiking when the time suits the both of you

---

The Witcher;

Yennefer:

✨ You met Yennefer when she was learning how to use her magic, you had been close allies with Tissaia de Vries, and you were able to stop Yennefer's attempt during the time - since then, you and Yennefer became pretty close

✨ You and Yennefer spent a lot of time together, your demeanor being very relaxed and easygoing, you radiated a warmth that calmed Yen - she felt as if she could be herself with you

✨ When not busy doing magicy things, you and Yen would spend time walking around the grounds, talking about spells, interests, and both of your dislikes for those who are mean towards others

✨ You believe Yen is an amazingly good listener, and she is, she loves learning more about you, finding your interests very intriguing - and she would always be down to go walking places with you, painting with you, and even reading with you

✨ You make Yen very happy, and she does the same for you, the both of you are so well fit for each other, and it is obvious to those who you meet - you are one of (if not the only) the most powerful couples in all of the land

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Disney;

Ariel:

🐟 You had known Ariel for a long time, being a merman, you often spotted her swimming away to her secret cave of treasure from time to time - you, like her, were also interested in the land above, and often went up to the surface to watch ships go by and people play on the nearby beach

🐟 It wasn't until you found some object from the surface world fall into the sea that you thought of giving it to the young princess - though, you were a bit nervous, but you gained your courage and swam to find her

🐟 Ariel was beyond the moon when you gifted her the surface treasure, instantly smiling and her eyes widening in excitement; it was then that she asked if you wanted to see her collection - how could you say no? You loved how passionate she was about the surface, and her collection was very impressive

🐟 From then on, you and Ariel would spend a lot of time together, swimming around when she wasn't needed by her father, just swimming and talking about the surface - Ariel would get so excited when you got back from the surface with new information or when you brought her a new item

🐟 You and Ariel have such a love for life, and all of its wonders, and the both of you dream of a better future - a future on the surface together

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