#but there is something that hits the spot with Jaskier cuddles

[spielzeugkaiser]

Kind of a second part to this - inspired by a convo I had with @panur in the replies! Ciri comes to them for cuddles and at this point Geralt is 100% awake, but Jaskier handles it all rather well.

#the witcher #geralt of rivia #geraskier #jaskier #geralt x jaskier #ciri #the witcher netflix #if this really was lettenhove Jaskier this might have been a touch darker but I love to imagine that 🥺 #but Jaskier and Ciri being softe!! I do think she plays with Geralt and hugs him and she goes to _ #Yennefer because that's her dad and her mum #but there is something that hits the spot with Jaskier cuddles #because he gets some things that the other two do not

[jaskiersvalley]

I'm OBSESSED with your writing and your stories, I'm so glad I found your blog, now I always have something new to read!! ❤️❤️❤️

I remember watching you blitz through the blog, leaving likes on a lot of the stories. It really made my day! Now, who knows how many months late, I bring you some silly Witchers and their mutagens.

Kaer Morhen’s Open Door Policy

When Jaskier was invited to Kaer Morhen, he’d thought the open door policy that Geralt mentioned meant that anyone was welcome to stay for the winter. It warmed his heart that the Wolves were so welcoming and generous with their winter lodgings. What Jaskier didn’t anticipate was that said open door policy was a literal thing. He arrived in Kaer Morhen with Geralt, they were stomping snow off their boots when someone rounded the corner at some speed. Slowing down, the man made a beeline for them.

“Lambert,” Geralt greeted before he was veritably bowled over in a hug. If Jaskier squinted, he could have sworn Geralt was given a long sniff and maybe even a lick, perhaps over the lips. But surely he must have seen wrong because Jaskier himself wasn’t given such a greeting.

Two more figures appeared and introductions were made to Eskel and Vesemir. It was quite nice really, even if a lonely winter with just the five of them. However, if gave Jaskier a chance to get used to the ways of the keep. Mostly, it was learning to leave doors open a crack and how to keep the hinges well oiled at all times. If he didn’t, it was guaranteed someone would turn up.

At first Jaskier had thought it was because he wasn’t trusted, not an accepted member of the pack. But that thought was quickly thrown out the window, especially when he was dragged into the cuddle piles in front of fires. Those were rather nice, if a little too warm and sweaty for his liking. Yet, every single time he forgot about keeping a door open, whenever it snicked shut behind him or clicked open as he stepped through, within ten seconds one of the other residents appeared. Usually it was Lambert, rounding the corner at quite a pace even as he tried to make it look like he hadn’t dropped everything and run. It was rather offensive in a way, at least that was what Jaskier thought until he was sat quietly in the library, Lambert browsing for something when his head snapped up all of a sudden and he was off at full pelt. That wasn’t the first time Jaskier saw him running. On more than one occasion Lambert almost bowled him over in corridors as he rushed towards whatever he had heard.

“Doors,” Geralt had explained quietly one night. “If we hear a door open or close, there’s this overwhelming urge to go see who it is, what had happened.”

Now that Jaskier knew, he paid more attention. Any door had Lambert running. Much more sedately, Eskel would usually follow, lumbering towards the source of the noise and trying desperately to look like he wasn’t doing exactly like Lambert. However, he had a weakness, as Jaskier discovered. The cupboard doors in the kitchen. If Jaskier, or anyone else for that matter, happened to go and look in one, Eskel was bound to bumble into the kitchen within a short space of time, looking bashfully hopeful. It was cute, Jaskier even started indulging and giving Eskel snacks because the way he softened and smiled at the offering was far too endearing.

“You’re only encouraging him,” Vesemir grumbled as he watched Jaskier hand Eskel half a slice of honey coated bread. Rather than argue, Jaskier gave Vesemir the other half, not commenting on how the old Wolf appeared for seemingly no reason in the kitchen. The treat certainly silenced him.

For a first winter, it was a good one. Jaskier was satisfied when he left that he was getting the hang of the odd open doors policy. It was the next winter that proved to test his patience. As well as the Wolves, there was a Cat there too. Haughty and aloof, Aiden spent most of his time perched up high somewhere. He slowly warmed up to Jaskier though, cautious at first. However, Aiden seemed to be rather fond of the open door policy, only ever opening or closing a door when he wanted attention. And that was rather frequently. More than once a day Lambert would go running because Aiden slammed a door somewhere, wanting to play.

It was all very well until Jaskier had to use the privy. That was one door that the Wolves learned not to run to. Even though Lambert still twitched, head swivelling it its direction before grumbling and returning to what he was doing. Jaskier was trying to just have a peaceful moment to relieve himself, a considerate two stalls down from an occupied booth when he heard someone else come in.

“Lamb?” Aiden’s voice drifted through the air, a little plaintive and lost.

“What?” Not all that unusual for Lambert to sound irritated.

“What are you doing?”

Jaskier’s eyebrows shot up at the question. What could Lambert be doing in the privy other than the obvious one of four things?

“I’m taking a shit.” Well, that answered which of the four it was but Jaskier could heard the sounds of a body leaning heavily against the door.

“Oh.” Aiden sounded almost disappointed. “I thought I heard some rustling like a snack being opened.”

“I promise I’m not fucking eating while taking a shit. Who eats in here anyway?” Grumbling, Lambert scoffed. “Don’t tell me, I bet it’s Geralt.”

Jaskier couldn’t hold his tongue anymore. “Geralt most certainly does not eat in the privy.”

The sound of a body moving and Jaskier knew Aiden was stood outside the door to his cubicle. “Jaskier. You’re in there.”

“No I’m not.”

For a moment there was confused silence before Lambert growled. “I swear Aiden, if you don’t leave us alone-” his threat was lost as Aiden moved back to Lambert’s door and there was an odd scratching sound. “No. Aiden. Don’t you dare. You can’t sit on my lap here! Not again. We almost broke it last time. Get out. Get out!”

The sound of a door being kicked shut and a huff from Aiden gave Jaskier a good idea of what had jut happened and he was scared to go out. However, not a minute later another voice joined the fray.

“What happened?” Eskel asked.

Jaskier buried his face in his hands in despair. So much for a peaceful piss.

The whole door thing was becoming quite ridiculous. Especially with Aiden slamming them to get Lambert’s attention. And then being offended whenever he encountered a closed door. Those were all gently knocked on and a head poked through if there was no answer. It meant nothing was private and Vesemir had to use a broom to get Aiden off the top of his wardrobe one evening when the Cat had gone missing all afternoon. He seemed to have no respect or care for anything, not when it came to prime napping spots.

It got to the stage that the common areas had their doors removed and Vesemir started hanging heavy furs in their place. Which did actually make the rooms warmer and there was no more needless running around. Though Eskel still bumbled into the kitchen in the hopes of a shared snack. Jaskier had rapidly cottoned on to the fact Vesemir fought such an urge in a novel and simple way. He was almost always either in the kitchen or within sight of it. So he could see if there was an opportunity for a snack without having to move. The old Wolf was clever, Jaskier had to give him that.

Some days, Jaskier did crave a bit of silence and solitude. Those were rare and far between days but they did happen. When they came, he took to wandering through the crumbling corridors of Kaer Morhen, trying to imagine what it had been like in its glory days. Quite amazing, he should think. So lost was he in his musings, Jaskier didn’t notice until too late that the floor wasn’t solid below his feet. It gave way and he fell with a yelp, landing awkwardly on his ankle. The pain was quite blinding, rendering him into a whimpering mess, throat tight and unable to call for help. Even when he managed to gather himself up, it didn’t seem to help. His voice just didn’t carry and the Wolves probably couldn’t hear him. It was cold, dark and Jaskier was in pain which made it difficult to think. There was a door not far from him and, in a moment of sheer desperation, he pulled himself towards it on shaking arms. Near enough, he reached for it and, with all his might, slammed it shut. It bounced open from the force and echoed through the room. Mustering up a little more energy, Jaskier shoved it again and the crack of door hitting frame made him wince. That would have to do. Jaskier managed to lie down, pillowing his head on his arms, shivering.

His hopes were answered when he heard the steady stomp of running feet skidding to a halt.

“The fuck?” There was the sound of a deep inhale as the area was scented. “Where you got to bard?”

“Down here,” Jaskier called back and squinted towards the hole he had fallen through. “My ankle.”

“Why would you do that? Wait. Never mind.” Lambert turned away and, a hand cupped against his cheek and lips he let out what could only be called a howl before his attention was back on Jaskier. “What did we tell you about wandering off?”

More feet, more people and Jaskier teared up in relief. He watched as Aiden hopped down the hole and took stock of the damage. A soft cry of pain left Jaskier as he was picked up and his ankle was jostled. In a few, seemingly easy, jumps, Aiden was passing Jaskier over to Geralt who cradled him against his chest. There was a still body-warm jacket draped over Jaskier and he burrowed into it, finding Eskel’s scent mixing with Geralt a comfort.

In the infirmary he was patched up, fussed over and, in the end, bundled into a pile in front of a fire where the others snuggled protectively up against him. By the next morning all the doors were back in place and Vesemir ground his teeth when Aiden slammed the kitchen one for Lambert’s attention.

#geraskier #lambden #geralt of rivia #jaskier #lambert #aiden #eskel #vesemir #wolves of kaer morhen #tldr: witchers have traits of their schools

[zodiyack]

Being Married To Henry’s Characters Would Include...

Requested by @cuisinequeen​: Hi, I love your work. I was just wondering if you could do a headcanon for being married to Clark Kent/Geralt/Sherlock Holmes/Napoleon Solo

Pairing: Clark Kent x Reader, Geralt of Rivia x Reader, Sherlock Holmes x Reader, Napoleon Solo x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, some references, trashy writing lol

Note: This doesn’t include all of his characters, so my apologies if I misled you with the title. Not all that confident in the HCs so sorry about that too

Taglist: @matth1w​, @redspaceace-writes​, @simonsbluee​, @darling-i-read-it​, @fandom-puff​, @thewarriorprincessxo​, @sebastianstanslefteyebrow​, @maan24​, @beckster07890​, @missihart23​

Masterlist | Henry Cavill Masterlist

Clark Kent

You know he’s superman, therefore, you gotta expect the unexpected

Kiss: Level 100

helping him keep his identity secret isn’t always easy-

you wanna kiss him even when he’s superman but fuck you need him to remain undetected

but you manage

Little hc of the first few months after getting married:

Clark comes home late after a fight you see on tv

you turned it off before anything else happened, too worried already

he’s beat up

your eyes are red and puffy with tear stained cheeks as you stand and cross your arms.

you bet your ass there were cuddles that night.

Later into the marriage, he still scares you like that, but you’ve grown somewhat used to it and wipe the tears away

He’s protective of you too though

Aight sorry, but the gif is making me addicted to Henry kisses so Imma say it again,

best fucking make out sessions ever

yes, I’m gonna say that for all four.

fuck it, Clark!Kisses HCs

they’re soft half the time, needy the other half

if he comes home from superman duties or you have a run-in with a villain, so on so on, his kisses are rougher, needier, more possessive

bitch, he just needs you to know he’s still alive 🥺😢

Henry in glasses really do be hittin tho.

Stealing his glasses

Calling him a nerd because of the glasses

Probably making it a small joke about superman

Especially with oblivious friends

“I think superman’s a nerd.” “why??” “I just do.”

Having to stifle your laughs every time someone gushes about superman in front of him

Clark has to hold you back so you don’t unleash your wrath of fucking doom upon some oblivious woman who wrote about superman in a news article

She wrote things that would make you jealous, like talking about how she’s curious to his personal life *wink wink* and stuff- you don’t just have a raging fury because someone writes about him

Superman this hoe

You’ve made jokes about how he has to take his ring off when he’s superman, but he’s got a feeling that you’re actually not kidding at all

Exercising with Clark

Cursing him out in breathy pants for being more athletic and cheating with his “alien powers”

he just laughs at you

Ah, the difficulty have having a husband with two identities

When you rant about your husband, it’s so hard not to fuck up and say something about being married to Superman

Forgetting that you’re one of the few who knows his identity

Basking in pride because you’re one of the few who knows his identity

One time, Clark forgot to take his ring off and the person he rescued had known him personally.

He asks where he got the ring-

“What ring?”

“The one on your finger. The wedding ring.”

It felt like his stomach dropped...if that makes sense-

Clark ended up making some random story about finding it on the same plane the guy he rescued was on and that he put it on so he wouldn’t lose it.

The guy still thought he was pretty sus, “why was it on your wedding ring finger then?” but let him off after some time

The guy gave it back to Clark in person, but you had no idea what happened,

so when he gave him the ring, you were watching with the most confused look Clark had ever seen

thankfully, he played it off well and informed you later

He forgot to take off his wedding ring? You “secretly” fist bumped the air- ...he totally saw you though

Geralt Of Rivia

I don’t think Geralt really expected to get married

Jaskier didn’t either-

He’s the only one who stands when the priest asks if anyone doesn’t accept... only to ask how the fuck Geralt got lucky enough to get you

Everyone laughed but Geralt, he just grunted and looked away with a lil’ bit o pink tinting his cheeks

You demand he lets you go on adventures with him

You also wash him after adventures

wink wonk ;)))

Geralt is a stubborn thing

You’re a stubborn thing

Y’all love each other

When I say that Geralt is a confusing husband-

I mean that he confuses the fuck out of you

“don’t do that”

“okay”

few minutes later

“I thought you were doing that-”

“You told me not too...?”

“I don’t recall. Do whatever.”

Minutes later.

“What the fuck!?! Don’t do that!”

He’s hard to read and it bugs you

However, it makes a good game out of it

If he ever introduces you as anything but his spouse, you hold a bitter glare while internally plotting

Before you marry, Jaskier hits on you without realizing that Geralt is interested in you

He gulps nervously as soon as it hits him

You might just use that mistake as a way to get back at Geralt for not saying you’re his spouse

Jaskier pleads you not to

like for real

He’s in tears

CuDdLeS!

Congrats, you have a stubborn manbaby for the rest of however long y’all shall live

Kithes

Geralt is a little distant when it comes to admitting his feelings for you at first

When you’re dating, you’re all over each other

Marriage is that but amplified lmao

Braiding his hair

Teasing him not the wink wonk and getting away with it because you’re his spouse

If Jaskier said anything remotely close to the shit you’ve said, Geralt would probably choke him out

But then resuscitate him cause they’re bros

Seeing the softer side of Geralt

Sure, sex, but getting to know each others bodies? Yes.

Soft!Sleepy!Geralt

His deep n husky morning voice telling you to “get your ass back in bed”

Having the excuse of “because I’m his spouse” anytime you do stuff people are too afraid to do

Jealous bb 1 and jealous bb 2 aka Geralt and Y/n

I think Geralt’s the kind of guy to just pick you up, ignore your flailing limbs, and move you out of the way

He takes shit from no one...well, from you SOMETIMES

Gives in to your requests with a sigh and roll of his eyes most of the time

He was protective of you at first

now he’s PrOtEcTiVe so uh

Basically, number one husband, number two bodyguard

you put yourself first for the bodyguard part, but Geralt doesn’t know that

Sherlock Holmes

He asks your family for their blessing, then asks you-

I can imagine Mycroft just ranting away and Sherlock drops to his knee

“What are you doing?”

He ignores his brother and proposes to you

Mycroft is confused and upset because he wanted to rant about meaningless things and Sherlock decided to change the topic

rude

Being married means constant visits from Enola

Probably being the “second parents” to Enola

Gossip with Enola and Eudoria about Sherlock and him as a kiddo

Kicking Sherlock out of the house for sleepovers with his sister

bet

Helping Sherlock with cases

Dealing with Sherlock telling you it isn’t safe

still being upset when he’s right you know it

Finding Enola and Eudoria with him

Snapping at Mycroft for how he treats the girl and everyone else

Threatening Mycroft by just being a badass bitch and telling him to fuck off every now and then

Long story short, you make Enola laugh and Mycroft scoff as he walks away

He’s a stubborn bean, which now that I think about it- aren’t all Henry’s characters?

While he doesn’t say it much, he loves you

You get paranoid with this character too, as he does work that can be very dangerous as well

When he returns, he doesn’t say much aside from that he’s there now and that he loves you

cuddles with him whispering softly,

“I’m here now.” “I’m safe.” “I’m okay.” “I love you.”

Kisses in public either be quick pecks or minute long for goodbyes, but greetings-

especially after being apart for a while?

HC TIME

He comes home on the train and you’re at the station with his siblings

As soon as he spots you, he sets his stuff down because you’re already running at him

You jump into his arms and kiss him hard, not caring in the slightest about the other people at the station

It makes you smile every time he introduces you as his spouse

You’ve heard it so many times yet it still makes your heart flutter every single time

Napoleon Solo

The amount of times you’ve just dropped everything and walked away because he was being ‘too serious”-

You say something, he takes it seriously, you groan and stomp away

But then you know you can do the same back to him

Napoleon is an all around awesome husband but he’s not going to just pretend to agree with stuff

Will correct you no matter how embarrassed you get 

Makes up with kisses or stuff idk

Let me be honest, I don’t know much about writing for Napoleon but he is an icon...sometimes

He’s protective

by that I mean he’s stubborn but really it’s his way of keeping you safe

Would probably lock you in your room even though you’re a, a grown ass adult, and b, his spouse for fuck’s sake?!??!

Doesn’t tell you when something’s bothering him unless he feels the need to

“I’m not a fucking mind-reader, Solo!”

“Neither am I but I still manage-”

He doesn’t mean to make you feel bad, he just- emotions and him aren’t the best of friends

Emotions aren’t exactly friends with most of his characters

He’d much rather just speak with actions than admit anything

Sometimes you worry that he’s just fucking with you

When he proposed, it scared the shit out of you ‘cause you thought it was a joke

Never admits to anything willingly...?

Yeah sorry...Idk, that’s all I got :\

#henry cavill x reader #clark kent x reader #geralt x reader #geralt of rivia x reader #sherlock holmes x reader #henry!holmes x reader #henry holmes x reader #napoleon solo x reader #henry cavill #clark kent #geralt #geralt of rivia #sherlock holmes #henry!holmes #henry!sherlock #henry holmes #henry sherlock #napoleon solo #x reader #reader insert #hcs #henry cavill HCs #all readers #zodiyack #i have yet to proof read and i will never #why #because #i am cringe #sorry #this sucks so sorry

[jaskierswolf]

*slamming fists on table* Possessive Geralt in the shifter verse! Please! Maybe with some nibbling? That back of the neck thing really just Activates My Almonds and I'd love to see more. - Bouncey

@bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher Sooo.... this is less nibbling and more biting. 👀 But I already told you this.

Part of my shifter verse but this is pretty much plotless so you don’t need to have read the rest.

CW: 18+, soul-bonds/mating bites, biting to the point of breaking skin, anal fingering, blow jobs, hand jobs

___________

Jaskier nudged their bedroom open with his snout. Geralt had gone up to their room after dinner whilst Jaskier stayed behind to cuddle with Eskel by the large open fire. Geralt was sleeping sprawled out on their bed, furs draped over his bare back, leaving his arse delightfully on display. Jaskier’s tail wagged and he let out a happy bark before springing onto the bed. Geralt groaned and rolled onto his side, golden eyes glaring up at him. Jaskier snorted and then licked at Geralt’s face.

“Fuck off, Jaskier.”

Jaskier whined and nipped at Geralt’s ear. He flopped onto the witcher’s back and rested his snout of Geralt’s head, effectively crushing the witcher under his weight. Geralt huffed but let his head drop back down onto the pillow.

“Needy bastard,” he muttered.

Jaskier yapped, his tail thumping against Geralt’s legs. He licked again at Geralt’s shoulder and buried his nose in Geralt’s neck. He let out a low rumble of contentment, Geralt still smelt like him. It didn’t matter so much in his human form when his senses were weaker but when he had a better sense of smell, he enjoyed knowing that Geralt was so clearly marked as his. He wasn’t sure if the possessiveness was a shifter thing or just him… but he wasn’t going to argue. Geralt was his mate, his lover, his best friend.

He closed his eyes and let his magic loose. Fur melted away to bare skin and he felt the vibration of Geralt’s medallion against his chest. He hummed in contentment and continued his attack on Geralt’s neck, licking and nipping at the pale skin.

“Jask,” Geralt whispered breathlessly.

“Hmm?” Jaskier smirked, winking up at his lover. He was now straddling Geralt’s waist, naked as the day he was born, heat already creeping down his spine and prickling over his skin.

He sucked pretty little bruises into Geralt’s neck, regretting that they would be faded by morning. “Insatiable bastard,” his boyfriend chided.

Jaskier giggled as he rolled his hips forward, dragging his hardening cock against the swell of Geralt’s arse. Geralt let out a low moan and pressed up against Jaskier’s cock before pushing off from the bed and rolling over before Jaskier could protest.

“Oi!” he grumbled as fell back onto his heels, pouting down at his boyfriend.

Geralt smirked, grabbing the oil from the dresser and making quick work of coating his fingers. He pulled Jaskier down for a messy kiss, his clean hand cupping Jaskier’s nape, making him shiver. He was always more sensitive there. He whined into Geralt’s mouth, a mess of tongues and gasps as Geralt’s hand wrapped around the head of his cock.

“Hmm… s’good,”

“Yeah?”

He nodded, pressing his forehead against Geralt’s as his boyfriend stroked him to full hardness. Gods, he would never get used to this, but he wanted more. There was an itch that he’d never quite managed to scratch. They’d made love and fucked in so many ways but something had always been missing, an instinct he’d been scared to act on. He wanted to bite. Not the little love bites and bruises that always littered the witcher’s skin… but something more, and more importantly… he wanted Geralt to bite him, scruff him.

He was just scared. He didn’t want to see the disgust in his lover’s eyes when he made his request. He didn’t want Geralt to see him for the monster he really was. He whined again, writhing under Geralt’s touch. “Fuck, Geralt…”

“Get on your front,” Geralt ordered and reach for the oil again. Jaskier pouted but reluctantly shuffled on the bed, flipping their positions so that Geralt was above him. He closed his eyes as he felt Geralt’s finger press inside his hole, moaning wantonly.

“Hnng…” he spluttered and buried his face in the pillow.

A hand gripped the back of his next and he relaxed under his lover’s touch. It wasn’t a full scruff, but it was enough for Geralt to push a second finger inside him. He whined again. He already felt full, but it wasn’t enough. He pushed back into Geralt’s hand. Geralt chuckled and swatted at his arse, the sting quickly turning to pleasure and he moaned.

“Hurry up, you bastard,” he gasped, rutting helplessly between Geralt’s hand and the furs beneath them.

“Patience, love.”

“No…”

Geralt’s grip on his neck tightened and he melted into the bed, pleasure flooding his senses almost as intense as an orgasm. He was left feeling utterly blissful, he’d never felt anything like it.  “Oh fuck….”

Geralt released him quickly as if he’d been burnt and Jaskier panted as he regained control of his limbs. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

“Do it again,” Jaskier breathed, feeling rather fucked out but still desperate for his release. He rutted against the bed as if to make his point, letting out a wanton moan. “Please, Geralt… bite me, scruff me… fuck,”

Geralt growled and pushed his fingers deeper into Jaskier’s arse, brushing against that sweet spot. He cursed, a litany of swears and Geralt’s name falling off his lips like a prayer, and then Geralt’s lips were on his neck. It started out as a kiss, making Jaskier shudder. He panted and begged for more. Geralt hummed and nipped him gently, simultaneously pressing a third finger inside him.

“Oh cock!” Jaskier panted.

Geralt just laughed, another kiss to Jaskier’s neck. “Not yet.”

“Oh fuck off,” Jaskier panted. He had half a mind to roll them back over and fuck himself on Geralt’s delightfully large cock, but before he could Geralt bit down.

He keened, the pain shooting through him and he once again melted into the bed, a mess of limbs. He babbled wordlessly as Geralt fucked him with his fingers, teeth still latched on to his neck. He completely blacked out, overwhelmed with the sudden burst of pleasure that hit him, knocking him flat.

He wasn’t sure how long he was out, but he couldn’t have been long, Geralt was still nuzzling his neck, fingers trailing down the length of his spine. The bed was a mess underneath him, the furs matted with his cum…

And Geralt hadn’t even touched him.

“Fuck,” he breathed, shivering as Geralt continued to stroke patterns onto his back.

“Hmm, you’re back?” Geralt teased.

“Mhmm…” he hummed and rolled over, narrowly avoiding the mess he’d made. There was a smear of blood on the corner of Geralt’s mouth, but the witcher looked unbearably smug. Jaskier rolled his eyes and pulled Geralt into a kiss, the taste of his blood on his tongue mildly off-putting but he didn’t care. “You enjoyed that too much,” he murmured against Geralt’s lips.

“Hmm… like seeing that you’re mine.”

Jaskier grinned up at Geralt. “Oh yeah?”

“Mhmm.”

Jaskier’s tongue flicked out to lick his lips. Then it was his turn to attack. His teeth sank into Geralt’s neck, earning a long, drawn-out moan from his witcher. Something shifted inside of him, like a dam breaking, and emotions flooded through him. He could feel a pain in his neck shadowing where he was biting Geralt, and his cock ached, desperate for release. He pulled off with a gasp. Geralt was staring back at him wide eyed.

“What was that?”

Jaskier swallowed, wincing as his fingers brushed the bite on the back of his own neck.

“I bit you?”

Geralt shook his head roughly. “Not that.”

“I. I don’t know?” Jaskier stammered, licking at his lips. Geralt’s erection was starting to soften and Jaskier growled, not wanting to leave his mate wanting. “Talk after?” his fingers brushed against Geralt’s nipples and he gasped as the sensation echoed on his own body. He grinned and kissed Geralt’s chest, licking and nipping at Geralt’s nipples, his hands gripping into Geralt’s arse.

His own cock twitched as Geralt filled out once more. He pushed his mate back onto the bed and continued his quest to cover as much of Geralt’s body in kisses. Every scar was caught under his lips, giggling as Geralt’s abs flexed under his lips. “So beautiful, my darling mate.”

He could feel Geralt’s arousal as if it was his own, and oh wasn’t that fun! He had no idea what had happened but… he was rather happy with the results. “Jask,” Geralt gasped as he bit into the sensitive flesh of Geralt’s thighs.

After years together he had a pretty good idea of what his boyfriend enjoyed but this was different. He could feel it. He let the tingles of pleasure guide him as he licked a stripe up Geralt’s cock and then took him into his mouth. He hummed as he worked, sucking and licking at his lover’s cock until Geralt was a panting mess underneath him. Geralt’s hand pulled at his hair and he glanced up to wink at his mate without stopping. He was driven by the desire to please his mate, his lover, his Geralt, he couldn’t stop. His own cock was already hard and leaking, Geralt’s pleasure rippling through his body. He moaned loudly and took himself in hand, stroking himself as Geralt bucked off the bed and came. Jaskier pulled back slightly, swallowing as much as he could. Geralt’s orgasm triggered his own, less intense than before. He gasped, biting down into the soft scarred skin of Geralt’s leg as he came over his hand. Geralt collapsed under him and Jaskier buried his face between his mate’s thighs.

He hummed happily, shifting without thinking into a cat. He stretched out, his tail flicking out behind him and padded up Geralt’s chest. He nuzzled at the bite mark on Geralt’s neck that was already healing, a pink scar forming where the skin had knitted back together. Jaskier nipped gently at the scar, feeling a swell of warmth and love in his chest.

Geralt petted him lazily. “Still need to talk, Jask.”

Jaskier meowed, clawing at Geralt’s chest before flopping down. He wanted a nap first. They could talk later.

_____

Next

#the witcher #geraskier #geraskier smut #shifter!jaskier #shapeshifter!jaskier #established relationship #does this count for monster march? #possibly #wolfie's witcher writing #Anonymous

[samstree]

Hug a Witcher Day (4/4)

In which Geralt makes plans, but everything goes wrong.

(geraskier, 4.7k,  hurt/comfort, sick jaskier, love confessions, first kiss, second kiss, cuddling, geralt talks about his feelings!)

This story ends here. Remember to give your local witchers a hug!

AO3, previous: [1] [2] [3]

Loving someone is unbearable, Geralt has recently realized.

In the big medical camp, when they can only sleep with hundreds of healers and patients in one big room, their single beds are arranged next to each other in parallel. The night renders the place pitch dark and Geralt is the only one still capable of seeing anything.

Geralt watches Jaskier drift off the moment his head hits the pillow, his breathing calm and his heart slowing.

The bard is tired, but he’s safe.

Geralt watches for a few more moments longer and, gradually, a warm pool of fuzziness begins to gather in his stomach again. He revels in it, in the feeling of loving Jaskier.

He reaches out a hand towards the bard and stops at the edge of the bed, a mere foot away from Jaskier’s sleeping form. The steady rhythm of Jaskier’s human heart lulls Geralt into oblivion but his hand remains there, so close and yet so far away.

That’s how Jaskier wakes Geralt in the morning, with a brush of knuckles, a gentle squeeze on his wrist and a soft, bleary smile. His brown hair is sleep-rumpled and there’s a long pillow crease on his cheek, and Geralt almost blurts it out on the spot.

Loving someone is unbearable.

Loving someone while not telling them is even worse.

But Geralt will tell Jaskier one day. A witcher can’t afford to be a coward. He didn’t get through the worst trials only to be intimidated by a simple human bard. No, the reason he can’t voice those three words is only…bad timing. Jaskier has been through too much in the span of just a few seasons, and yet his smiles are still flowing with patience; he persists with the gentleness that is so distinctly  Jaskier .

Geralt won’t weigh Jaskier down, not until they can pack their bags and leave this city.

And they do.

The end of summer brings the first chill in the air, and Geralt finally leads Roach out of the gates of Vizima. Jaskier follows not far behind with the lute on his back and a spring in his steps.

It all feels like a dream when Geralt remembers being cooped up in one place and isolated from the world, but he walks out of the city as a new man. The love flowing through his veins is the tangible proof of his change of heart.

“Roach must be dying to stretch her legs, don’t you think?” the bard offers when Geralt mounts the mare, her gait anxious.

“Catch up to me?” Geralt asks.

“Always.”

The corners of Jaskier’s eyes crinkle and the sun spills down his hair and threads it with gold. With a gentle nudge, the mare takes off eagerly. The bard’s silhouette grows more distant and Geralt gives up on hiding the lovestruck grin on his face.

*

For a long time, Geralt anticipates he will tell Jaskier in the most dramatic, world-ending way.

After all, the bard does everything so dramatically and world-endingly that anything related to him should deserve the same treatment. Geralt reckons even if he tries to keep it down, Jaskier will find a way to make it the grandest scene there is.

Geralt thinks about doing it in Dol Blathanna, a poetic symmetry to their first meeting that the bard will certainly wax poetic about. The idea churns for two days and suddenly he realizes how terrible it is. The fall will soon render the valley of flowers barren and they’ll just be standing on rocky ground.

So Geralt turns his eyes to the north, where Kaer Morhen must be hiding behind the mountains. Within the walls of the ancient keep, there’s a tower just next to their training yard that he has spent so many sleepless nights in. Standing on top of that tower and watching the stars and northern lights might be the rare moments when he’s truly at peace. It’s when he’s at home.

He silently decides on taking Jaskier home for the winter.

“Why are you taking us this far north, Geralt? Urgh, and why do you have to push me like this? You truly have no pity for me.”

The bard sits on his bedroll and rubs at his eyes at dawn, his face scrunched up with displeasure.

“Hmm.”

In his mind’s eye, Geralt can almost see Jaskier’s face when he steps into Kaer Morhen for the first time, the bard raving about all the songs the ancient keep could inspire and exploring the place with wonderment. He can see the way Jaskier’s eyes would light up under the night sky at the sight of those colorful lights, awestruck and gleaming.

If Geralt was any other man, he would be giddy with anticipation.

And perhaps, that’s why he doesn’t see it when sickness creeps up on Jaskier in the most unexpected way.

Surviving a terrible plague and falling ill right after sounds way too anticlimactic. Jaskier would be disappointed in a twist like this if it’s in a story. It never even crosses Geralt’s mind that Jaskier’s increased complaining is a result of discomfort, of months’ exhaustion silently building up. It never occurs to him that Jaskier, now with his waist and shoulders thinner, might need to take more breaks on the road and wear more layers on harsher days.

An autumn storm catches them off guard and that’s all it takes.

“You got lucky. There’s only one room left.” The man behind the desk throws a pitying look at the bard, dripping on the creaky floor and swaying on his feet. “The rest are all booked for the festival.”

Geralt pays no mind to his remarks. His world narrows down to getting Jaskier into a warm room and stripping him of these wet clothes. He has no choice but to replace them with one of Geralt’s dark shirts—the bard has never been good at keeping his pack dry.

Now Jaskier is shivering under the covers and groaning like a dying animal. His hair is damp from the residual rain and cold sweat, his frame drowning in the too-large tunic.

“Can you light the fire, Geralt?” Jaskier asks through chattering teeth. The blanket is slipping from his shoulders, the open collar exposing a patch of skin and sending a chill down his body. Geralt wraps the blanket tighter around him and looks puzzled at the roaring flame in the hearth.

“It is on. Can’t you see it?” Geralt frowns, confused.

Jaskier’s eyes focus on somewhere far away. The dazed expression lingers for way too long before his head turns to the fireplace. “Oh.”

The worry in Geralt’s stomach grows heavier. He feels for Jaskier’s forehead and lets out a curse when his palm meets burning skin.

“You are feverish.” Geralt continues to wipe away the sweat gathering at the bard’s hairline. “Damn it, Jaskier. Why didn’t you say something?”

The bard leans into Geralt’s cooler touch instinctively. “Well, if you learned one thing about bards, Geralt, you should know that we can’t predict the weather.”

“No.” Frustration seeps into Geralt’s voice. He lets out a scowl. “Why didn’t you tell me you were sick? You must have been feeling terrible for days if you have a fever like this. Jaskier…”

Geralt breathes out his name and finds anger rising, but not towards the bard. He’s angry with himself, for neglecting Jaskier’s comfort in favor of furthering his stupid plan, for not seeing what’s right in front of him. Jaskier staggering on his feet in the pouring rain stirred up some old fear in Geralt, the fear that hasn’t left him since the day he stepped into Oxenfurt in the spring.

“I guess it didn’t even cross my mind,” Jaskier explains, his voice small and unsure. “We just survived something unimaginable, my dear. I was so excited to go out again. It’s you and—”

Jaskier is rudely interrupted by a coughing fit. The violent wheezing wracks his lungs, causing him to fall forward in a struggle. Geralt catches his limp body in a frenzy and Jaskier ends up with his forehead on Geralt’s shoulder to ride it out, his too-warm breaths fanning over the skin of Geralt’s skin.

“It’s you and me against the world,” Jaskier finally croaks as Geralt helps him sit against the pillows. “All the adventures we missed, think about them. I was just…excited.”

Geralt finds himself kneeling on the bed and a hand’s breadth away from Jaskier’s face, his cheeks worryingly flushed. He looks down to adjust the blanket again to make sure the bard is completely bundled up.

“Excited? And you couldn’t even tell you were sick?”

At least the bard is looking contrite.

“I thought I was just out of shape, with all the pain in my joints and my back. Ugh.” Jaskier squirms in the sea of pillows, adjusting to find better support. “I suppose you don’t have anything for it? A whole bag of witcher potions and none for humans—”

“I—” Geralt splutters. “I’ll, um, get you some willow bark. And a sleeping draught.”

He gets off the bed in one swift motion and works under Jaskier’s curious gaze. The bard is entranced by Geralt’s movement as he boils the water and prepares the tea that he’s been carrying around and replenishing for years.

Blue eyes remain inscrutable as Geralt strains out the shredded bark and scoops a spoonful of honey in the steaming water. He brings the cup to Jaskier’s bed as well as a tincture of sleeping potion.

The bard lets go of the blanket in favor of the cup. He takes a sip and lets out a soft sigh. The honey should be soothing his throat, and it counters the bitterness of the willow bark as well. Geralt leaves him to finish the tea and goes to retrieve his cloak. The thick garment is now completely dry and toasty thanks to the fire, so he gathers it and puts it over Jaskier’s lap.

The bard hands Geralt the empty cup, uncorks the tincture, and downs the greenish liquid.

“ Urgh. Why do all sleeping draughts taste so dreadful?” He grimaces, sticking out his tongue. “Should’ve saved some of the honey.”

“You need more?”

Geralt is ready to fish out the jar again but a hand resting on his elbow stops him.

“Don’t waste it, Geralt. I know how much honey costs.”

“It’s not a waste,” Geralt insists.

Geralt sinks back down into the mattress and suddenly Jaskier’s palm on his arm is burning a hole into his bones, and it’s not because of the fever.

“Because you bought it for me?” Jaskier’s gaze grows intense, the question phrased like a statement, like the bard has never been more sure of anything else. “You keep a jar of honey in your pack and only put it in our water after I sing for a whole night. You carry fresh willow bark for my headache—gods know it’s too weak for your metabolism. You have sleeping potions for humans.”

All statements should feel accusatory, but something is brewing like a storm under Jaskier’s unwavering eyes.

Geralt’s ears heat up in the too-warm room. He wants to get as far away from Jaskier as possible to avoid feeling so exposed. It’s almost like Jaskier has stripped him bare and left his heart in the open.

“It’s nothing.”

And that’s the wrong thing to say.

“What? No.” Distress overtakes those blue eyes. “Geralt, you take care of me. You have been taking care of me for years. How can it be nothing? Even just in Vizima, you stayed for me and you were there for me—”

“I wouldn’t just leave you there, Jask.” Geralt says defensively. The bard truly is burning with a mad fever if he thinks Geralt could ever leave him.

A sad smile spreads across Jaskier’s face.

“I know. And that’s the problem, isn’t it?” he answers, half to himself, which makes Geralt all the more confused. He covers Jaskier’s hand resting on his arm and squeezes gently for the bard to continue.

“It’s been three years, Geralt. It’s been three years since that night. Do you still remember? It was the night before we had to part for the winter, and it was so cold. I couldn’t even get my teeth to stop chattering and you insulted my choice of wear, as you do.” The bard rolls his eyes. “I fell asleep in shivers and woke up warm with all my toes still intact. Miraculously.”

Jaskier slips his hand out of Geralt’s before threading their fingers together, his other hand running up and down the cloak on his lap. “You had given me your cloak during the night so I wouldn’t freeze. And when I turned around, you were just…there. Lying on your bedrolls,  cloakless, sleeping, and so far away.”

Geralt stares at Jaskier’s dazed expression and the melancholy at the corners of his mouth and senses his languid heartbeat pick up. He remembers that night, but it was nothing out of the ordinary. Why Jaskier thinks it was anything of significance is baffling.

“That was the moment for me. That morning, right before we parted for a whole season, was when it hit me. I—Geralt, I wanted to tell you then, but I was too much of a coward, so I sent you away without knowing.”

Tell me what?

The question dies in Geralt’s throat. Instead, habit compels him to deflect. “But you were cold.”

Jaskier’s eyes are gleaming in the warm candlelight, wide and earnest.

“It’s what you do, Geralt. You save me from monsters and rude patrons. You tolerate my faults and you compel me to do better. You traveled across the continent to see me safe, and you stayed. You  stayed .” Jaskier is on the verge of tears, and Geralt wishes more than anything in the world to erase that dejected look on his face. “My white wolf. My protector. I—I had nothing to thank you for, except for my songs. So I wrote the song, thinking I could show you that way.”

The fire crackles and Geralt asks dumbly.

“What song?”

Jaskier holds his gaze and hums the too-familiar tune of Hug a Witcher, his voice breaking from time to time, growing hoarse by the end. Geralt is pinned to the spot, unable to form words.

“I got the whole continent to do it for me, didn’t I?” Jaskier chuckles tightly but his usual smugness is nowhere to be seen. “But, you see, the whole continent gets to hug you for a day. They’ll get to show you their appreciation. But not me. What a wonderful plan! I guess that’s the price for being selfish, for wanting an excuse to—just to…”

Jaskier trails off, his fingers limp in Geralt’s hand. The silence hangs too heavily as Geralt lets the thunderstruck realization sink in.

As if Geralt has ever cared about what everyone else thinks of him. As if he ever wanted everyone else’s arms around him. Jaskier can never be selfish when it comes to Geralt, never when it counts. He’s being such a fool for assuming and Geralt lets out a frustrated growl.

The bard flinches, and retreats, pulling his legs towards his chest to appear as small as possible. His curled-up form is so small that it looks wrong. Jaskier should take up all the space in the world.

“No,” Geralt corrects him desperately. “No. You are not selfish, Jaskier. You’ve done nothing wrong by me in this—”

“I’ve brought nothing but trouble to your side. The song, the plague…I’ve worried you, and now I’ve burdened you. I—” Jaskier’s gaze darts all over the place, heedless of Geralt’s protest. The delirium is muddling his mind. Geralt panics and wraps Jaskier’s chin in his palm, desperately trying to anchor his bard.

“Jaskier—”

“Will you leave?” There’s old fear in the question. “Am I going to be cold and alone again?”

It must be the fever. Added with the ordeal of the past year, it’s bringing back memories of childhood, of painful days confined to a bed and struggling for survival. He needs to reassure Jaskier, to erase the lost expression on Jaskier’s face.

In a frenzy, he ends up doing it by pressing his lips to Jaskier’s.

The kiss is a hot and urgent thing and it’s over in a second. The bitter taste of the sleeping potion lingers. Geralt breathes into the space between them, his palm still caressing Jaskier’s cheek. A tear rolls down and Geralt catches it with the pad of his thumb.

Blue eyes refocus, piercing Geralt’s soul.

“Geralt?” he breathes.

The name comes out so reverent that Geralt is sure that his heart will burst.  Gods, he loves Jaskier.

“I love you.”

A soft gasp escapes Jaskier’s lips.

“Can you hear me now?” Geralt’s thumb continues to trace small circles on Jaskier’s skin. “Can you hear when I say that, Jaskier, you are not a burden? You are not trouble that I have to deal with. You are not selfish for staying and you will never be alone again, not if I ever have a say in it.”

Jaskier’s limbs unfurl, his arms gradually stretching out from the tight hold over his knees.

"I never wanted to tell you like this. I shouldn’t. Not like this.” Geralt sinks into the presence of his bard and presses their foreheads together. Jaskier stays painstakingly silent and a pang of fear hits Geralt. “Shit, Jask. You don’t need to say anything. I shouldn’t have done it when you are still sick. You know what, forget about—”

“You love me?” Jaskier whispers, his voice so small that anyone but a witcher would have missed it.

“I love you.” Geralt pulls away to stare into the stormy blue of Jaskier’s eyes. “I’ve been in love with you for so long. For longer than I know, Jask. I made so many plans for this moment. I wanted it to be perfect for you. But now, I…I just need you to know.”

He just needs to make it better, make Jaskier better. All the plans are nothing but useless, his fear of rejection too. The sight of Jaskier in pain is enough to chuck every worry out the window. Even if his love is not returned, even if a witcher can never have it returned.

But with a heartbeat and the next, Jaskier has thrown himself into Geralt’s embrace, nearly knocking the breath out of him. And, as if in a fantasy, Jaskier’s lips are everywhere, peppering small, wet kisses all over his face.

“You  are  perfect for me, you oaf.” A smile finally blossoms on Jaskier’s face and their lips meet again.

The second time Geralt ever kisses Jaskier, it feels like coming home. It’s a drawn-out and lazy dance that lulls him into dreamland, only the dream has come true in the solid form of Jaskier’s supple lips against his and nimble fingers carding through his hair. The bard lets out a string of adorable giggles as he climbs onto Geralt’s bent knees and straddles him, the cloak and blanket shoved out of their way.

Geralt is falling.

And soaring.

“Hey, steady.” he keeps both hands on the small of Jaskier’s back to keep him in place.

The weight of Jaskier is heavenly, and the unlaced collar of Geralt’s shirt provides the best opening for him to slowly suck at the junction between Jaskier’s shoulder and neck. The bard ends up a whimpering, limp mess, draped all over Geralt’s shoulder with a shudder running down his spine.

“Do you even know how easy it is for you to ruin me?” Jaskier murmurs breathily in Geralt’s ear. All he can muster for response is another growl.

When Geralt gently lowers Jaskier down onto the pillows again, the bard looks a fine picture of debauchery, with a beet-red flush painted across his cheeks and patches of reddened skin at his neck that will surely bloom into dark bruises. His hair is sticking in all directions and the shirt slips down from one shoulder, his chest heaving from the exertion.

Tears well up in cornflower blue eyes again but this time it’s not from pain. All Geralt can smell is the heady pleasure that is equally affecting him.

“I’m afraid your sleeping potion has kicked in,” Jaskier yawns just in time. “It’s the good stuff, my dear. You spoil me.”

The bard blinks his eyes open stubbornly as Geralt fishes the blanket up from the floor and then the cloak.

“I’ll spoil you more when you get better.”

“Big witcher with bigger promises.” Jaskier is slurring his words but the smile on his face can match the bright afternoon sun.

Geralt curls around Jaskier’s body and drapes the blanket over both of them, the cloak tucked where chill might creep in during the night. When he pulls Jaskier closer, the bard tucks his head under Geralt’s chin and nuzzles ever so slightly.

The urge to kiss is overwhelming, and Geralt realizes that he can.

“Goodnight, Jask.”

His lips touch Jaskier’s eyelid and the bard is out in the next second. There’s still a faint smile on his lips.

* 

Geralt wakes up like this, with Jaskier sprawled on top of him and snoring softly. He brushes back the hair at the bard’s forehead and feels for his temperature. The fever is still running low but it will be gone in a day or so. Sighing with relief, Geralt revels in the sensation of the rhythmic thrumming of Jaskier’s heart against his ribcage.

His attention drifts to what woke him in the first place. A group of men seems to be yelling on the street right under their window. Geralt only catches a few words in the distinct conversation, but from the looks of it they are arguing about…building a stage somewhere.

And then, the word  Saovine stands out.

If they are already building the stage for the performance, and the tavern has been booked up by travelers… Geralt does the math in his head and almost feels giddy when it dawns on him—

It’s today.

It’s Hug a Witcher Day.

The thought doesn’t leave him with the agonizing emptiness that is Jaskier’s absence anymore. Instead, Geralt feels like he’s floating mid-air among the clouds and he may never come down again. He might as well not, since Jaskier won’t be going anywhere any time soon.

He hides a goofy grin in tousled brown hair.

One of the men hammers down on something and Jaskier stirs, inhaling deep and then groaning loud. He arches away from Geralt’s chest with a low growling whine—the fever must still be hurting his back and joints. Geralt untangles their limbs and rests his palm flush against the bard’s lower back where it seems to bother him. He kneads gently, massaging the soreness away. Jaskier lets out an exaggerated moan, his face buried in the pillow to muffle the sound.

“It wasn’t a dream.”

When Jaskier speaks, his voice vibrates deep and nasally from sleep, and it makes something warm gather in Geralt’s stomach. He pushes up the hem of the shirt on Jaskier and places a kiss on the side of his waist before lying down again, face to face with the bard.

“It wasn’t.”

“Hmm.”

Jaskier mirrors one of Geralt’s many hums and looks up blearily through drooping lashes, his smile content and his blush healthier. The bard boops his nose. “What are you grinning at?”

“It’s my day.”

“What day?” The furrow between Jaskier’s brows is too adorable and Geralt is too smitten with it. Eventually, the bard catches on. “ Oh .”

He then scoots closer to tuck a strand of hair behind Geralt’s ear. Excitement sparks in his eyes.

“Can I?” Jaskier asks as if they didn’t just spend a whole night snuggled against each other, as if Geralt hasn’t been ready to say yes since three Hug a Witcher Days ago.

“Yes.”

With that permission, Geralt finds himself on his back with an armful of bard. Jaskier is hugging him so tightly that even a witcher can barely breathe.

“For luck, right?” the bard says into his neck and flings a leg over Geralt’s hip, putting his entire weight into the embrace. “Only the gods know I’ll be needing some for next year.”

“No more scaring me like this.” Geralt mutters half to himself as he runs his fingers through Jaskier’s hair and pulls him even closer. It’s a near-impossible endeavor since he’s already crushed between the mattress and the too eager bard.

“No more,” Jaskier agrees and rubs his nose into the silver hair pooling on the pillow, humming with buzzing pleasure. “And who would have thought? Destiny can be cruel just as she is kind. It’s today, of all days...”

“Hmm. Who would have thought…”

Geralt inhales the scent of Jaskier, now the sour stench of misery only faint. In its place is the happiness that reminds him of the afternoon sun baked into fresh linens.

“And to think I forgot to tell you yesterday. The most renowned poet on this continent forgot to profess his love. How embarrassing!”

Geralt snorts, but in truth, he doesn’t even care anymore. Jaskier being here, in the safety of his arms and recovering from the ordeal of the past year is more than enough. He can live with the knowledge that Jaskier knows that he is loved. He is loved so deeply by someone who was told his whole life to be incapable of it. Now that Geralt is on the other side, the idea of ever not loving Jaskier becomes an unthinkable thing. It’s like not loving the sun or the earth or—

“You’re thinking sappy things.” The bard looks up and the mirth in his eyes disappears. “And probably bad things about yourself. After all these years, after so many songs and so many scrapes and bruises, you still doubt it. Oh, Geralt. Can’t you see? I wrote Hug a Witcher because I didn’t know how to tell you that I love you. To be fair, I wrote every song for the same reason, but this one…I needed you to feel loved, darling, even if it’s not by me.”

So he got the whole continent to do it for him and dragged every other witcher down with it. Geralt should be appalled by the length of theatrics the bard is willing to go if he doesn’t somehow find it the most endearing thing in the world.

“A love letter. Delivered by everyone but you,” Geralt adds.

“Is it to your satisfaction?” Jaskier purses his lips sheepishly. A sheepish Jaskier is such a rare occurrence that Geralt can’t look away. “My white wolf. My protector.”

Geralt takes Jaskier’s wrist and guides it to his chest, placing his palm right over the slow rhythm of his heart. “That’s one thing we have in common, isn’t it? You protect me too. You guard my heart and my name. You use your strength but not for violence but love. If destiny has ever given me one blessing, Jaskier, it would be you. And you are asking if I’m satisfied...”

Geralt puts the answer in the kiss he presses on Jaskier’s forehead with all the gentleness he can muster. It must be the one-millionth time he’s kissed Jaskier because he can no longer remember not being allowed to kiss Jaskier feels like.

“So, Hug a Witcher Day, eh?” Jaskier springs up with renewed vigor, so fast Geralt amazes that he isn’t getting dizzy. “How should we celebrate?”

Geralt looks at his bard, surrounded by his clothing and his love, basked in the shimmering morning light.

“I believe it’s in the name.” he challenges, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, honey. You know I won’t let you go for the rest of the day, right?” the bard smirks with mischief. “But first, if I remember it correctly, didn’t you say that you had some…plans for your grand love confession?”

Geralt blinks. “Are you always this incorrigible?”

“Duh!” Jaskier shrugs, offended. “Oh, come on! I promise I won’t make fun of you! And I’m sure I can make at least one ballad out of your plotting, my darling witcher. With how much of a sap you are, a whole romance book if I put my mind to it!”

“I won’t give you the chance to make fun of me for the rest of time, bard.”

“But I’m sick.” Jaskier bats his lashes. “It will make me feel better. Won’t you indulge me?”

Geralt cannot believe the bard is already playing this card. What’s worse is that he knows his resolve will break very soon.

It’s Hug a Witcher Day after all, and Geralt finally, finally gets to have the one person he wants the most in his arms. If a little bit of embarrassment is the price for it, he can’t say that he minds that much.

---

Geralt gets lots of hugs. Jaskier gets to tease him endlessly. And I can start new wips!

I was torn between two different ways to end this story and finally settled on this more conventional one. I’ll be putting up the alternative ending soon ;)

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#geraskier #geraskier fic #geralt x jaskier #cuddling #snuggling #hugs and kisses! #sick jaskier #jaskier gets sick but it's unrelated to the plague #jaskier whump #protective geralt #love confessions #first kiss #second kiss #geralt of rivia is a sap #this should be a tag #the other ending is very silly #so very silly

[witcher-and-his-bard-archive]

Inimitable

winter prompts day 3  ❄️ cuddling by the fire

 Jaskier is still sitting in the chair in front of the fire. He was there before Geralt left just after supper and he's still sitting here now, the graveir dead and the sun long set. It's almost unheard of that Jaskier sits still for so long, but when Geralt pricks his ears he can hear Jaskier's heartbeat and his slow, steady breath. It's a little too measured for Geralt's liking, but there isn't much he can do about it right now.

Right now, he's covered in graveir gore and muck from the swamp and now that he's collected payment for the job, he needs to bathe before he can check in on Jaskier.

He calls for a bath and gets himself cleaned up before heading back downstairs to the public area and he's disheartened to find Jaskier hasn't moved an inch. Geralt slips up behind as quietly as he can and he's hit by the overwhelming scent of rotting fruit and salt. The combination can only mean one thing and Geralt's stomach clenches as he moves around the side of the chair. Jaskier glances at him and just his face confirms what Geralt already knows. His eyes are red and swollen and his cheeks are damp. He's been crying. Geralt reaches out to him, but-

"Fuck, Geralt-" Jaskier chokes, fumbling to wipe at his eyes. "What are you doing here?

"It's been hours," Geralt says gently. "Is- is everything alright?"

He winces as soon as the words are out of his mouth. No. Of course, everything isn't alright. He's known Jaskier for years and years and the only time he's seen him cry is when he was so drunk he jumped into a pond because the ducklings were too cute. This is very different than that.

"Oh, it's- it's fine, darling. Let's get to bed."

Geralt isn't sure which is worse. The way Jaskier tries to smooth over his own pain or the fact that he seems so disinclined to talk to Geralt about it. Not that he could really blame him. He isn't good at talking about things and Jaskier's whole life is words and how to work them. He's very much out of his depth, so his shoulders slump and he curses himself for not being better at this, but he lets Jaskier lead him back up to their room.

They go about the motions getting ready for bed, but Geralt feels like there's a pit in his stomach. Once they're alone, Jaskier does his best to pretend not to be hurting, but Geralt can smell it all over him, can feel the sadness wafting off of him.

Jaskier strips mechanically and Geralt aches to reach out to him, to pull him close and soothe the pain, but he doesn't know how. Because how could his touch do anything but cause further harm? He climbs into bed after him, careful to keep his distance and after a little while, the sadness lessens a little. Geralt is relieved until he realizes Jaskier is just asleep.

He doesn't know what time it is when he wakes, but Geralt is alone in the bed and it takes a moment until he's awake enough to realize there's a fire lit. He jumps out of bed abruptly, looking around until he spots Jaskier curled on the floor in front of the fire. If it's keeping him awake, it must be bad. Geralt sighs. There's nothing for it.

He pulls the blanket from the bed, padding across the room and sits behind Jaskier. He doesn't know what to do and he knows if he says anything, he'll likely make it worse, so he curls up on the floor behind him and pulls the blanket over them both.

"You should go back to bed. We have an early morning, remember?"

Geralt waits, but Jaskier makes no attempt to move away or to push him away so he stays. He wraps one arm around his shoulders and as he tugs him closer, there's a little choked off sob. Immediately, he releases his hold and draws back, and Jaskier curls in on himself, sniffling. His breath catches and Geralt hates himself for not knowing what to do.

He thinks back to any time Jaskier has comforted a frightened villager when Geralt hauls back his trophy for payment. He's seen him wrap himself around them, gently stroke their arms or hands or hair and he knows Jaskier isn't scared, but maybe it will help.

As cautiously as he can, he slips his arm back around him, fingers brushing against his arm until he can slip his own fingers between Jaskier's. He's barely touched him when Jaskier's fingers tighten around him and he squeezes. This is good, then. Without removing his hand, Geralt slips up close again, propping himself up on his elbow.

"You can," he takes a deep settling breath and leans lower, "you can tell me what's wrong. I know I'm not the best at these things, but- maybe I could help?"

"'S nothing, just stupid," Jaskier mumbles, but his voice is still unsteady and Geralt doesn't believe him.

"If it upsets you this much, it isn't stupid. You don't have to say, but you can trust me. You know you can trust me, right?"

"Yeah," Jaskier whispers.

Jaskier falls silent again, but he presses back against Geralt's chest, fingers still wrapped around his. It's not much, but Geralt is glad to be able to do anything and Jaskier settles a little against him.

Eventually, even Geralt settles, nose pressed into Jaskier's hair, thumb rubbing gently against his hand. His eyelids are heavy when Jaskier finally breaks his silence, but he props himself up again.

"It's just... do you ever feel like the other Witchers are better than you? Like it makes them better because they can, I don't know, run faster than you or something?"

"Eskel is much better at signs than I am," Geralt says softly. "Lambert is better at making bombs. Why?"

"Listen don't- don't make fun, okay?"

"I would never. What's wrong, Jask?"

"Valdo," Jaskier grumbles. "It's this new song." He takes a deep breath and Geralt waits for an outburst that never comes. "It's really good. And I've been- everything I've written lately is shit. I know I talk a lot of shit, but he's actually a very good songwriter and I-"

"You're doubting yourself," Geralt realizes and Jaskier just groans and buries his face in his arm. "He could never hope to compare," Geralt breathes and he doesn't know where the words came from, but he means them. "You have-" he shuts his eyes, forcing the words out. It's too much, too close to all the things he forces down and stops himself from saying. But Jaskier deserves to hear it.

"You have the most beautiful voice I've heard," Geralt admits, "and I like your songs. I sing them sometimes when we're apart. Even the coin one."

Jaskier turns in his arms, only releasing his hand when it's too awkward to hold any longer. He looks up at him with something like awe in his expression and Geralt smiles down at him.

"Do you mean that?"

"Of course."

"Geralt, I- what? I thought you hated my singing?"

"No."

"Then why-?"

"It doesn't matter right now," Geralt whispers, "but don't think for a moment that Valdo Marx could hope to achieve even half of what you do every day. He may write well, but that doesn't take away your talent, Jask. And you lie constantly, but your songs are based on real events - most of which you were present for."

Jaskier smiles at him, reaching a hand up to brush Geralt's cheek and he looks like he's about to cry again. Geralt doesn't know what he did wrong, he thought he was doing well.

"I'm sorry," he says quickly, "should I not-" Jaskier shakes his head immediately.

"That's not- no, that was perfect. I didn't realize you felt like that."

He feels so much more than that, but there's no good way to tell Jaskier all of that. Instead, he tips his head down, presses a hesitant kiss to Jaskier's forehead.

"You're a better songwriter than he'll ever be."

In an instant, Jaskier's arms are around his neck and he's pulling him down to him, kissing his lips. His lips are cold and salty from his tears, but Geralt couldn't pull away from him if he tried. He winds one arm around Jaskier's back, rolling him onto his back and deepening the kiss.

When Jaskier finally draws away, he's panting, but smiling and Geralt is so relieved to see him smile that he kisses him again.

"Thank you," Jaskier whispers, still holding Geralt's face in his hands.

"For what?"

"For listening. For caring."

Geralt doesn't know what to say, so he lays himself back down and draws Jaskier close to him. "Would you like to go back to bed?" Jaskier just smiles as his fingers slip around the back of Geralt's neck.

"Do you mind if- this is quite nice, actually."

Geralt nods and Jaskier presses forward, burying his face in Geralt's chest and readjusting the blankets over them both. He must be exhausted because he falls asleep quickly and in the silence, Geralt decides that maybe they could afford to spend an extra night in the inn if this is all it takes to make Jaskier happy again.

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #cuddling by the fire #rex writes #winter prompt challenge 2k20 #don't like #read too much into this or anything #sorry fabi #i didn't post the thing #but I tried #and i wrote for day 3

[thewitcherstan]

“You’re wearing my shirt,” Geralt says in a flat voice, expression unreadable. He had just walked into their shared room at the inn, and Jaskier was sitting on the bed, clearly freshly-bathed after the day’s fiasco.

Note to self: Do not bring the bard along on anymore assignments, Geralt thinks. As loathe as he is to admit it, he’s grown attached to the human, and he can’t help but want to listen whenever Jaskier’s gone off on one of his ramblings.

It’s not convenient when in the middle of a hunt, and the distraction nearly cost them their lives. Luckily enough, they managed to escape with nothing more than a deep cut on Jaskier’s shoulder where the creature had managed to slice him before Geralt could do the same to its head.

Jaskier looks down at the shirt, then back up at Geralt and shrugs. “Well, yeah. I got blood all over mine. I cleaned it but it’s still hanging to dry. I didn’t think you’d mind.”

If it were anyone else, Geralt thinks, their head would be through the nearest wall. Instead, Geralt just looks at him, heat flaring in his eyes.

“I don’t,” he says shortly, before softening. “Mind, I mean. It’s… nice.”

As soon as he says the words, Geralt snaps his jaw shut, looking away. Not before he sees Jaskier’s face brighten, though, and Geralt can’t help the pleased feeling that curls in his chest at the sight.

“How is the cut?” he asks, trying to ignore the guilt pressing at him. He should have been quicker.

Jaskier looks down at it and makes a show of shrugging flippantly, but Geralt can see the effort put into biting back a grimace. He slowly approaches, pausing as his hands hover hesitantly over the bard’s shoulder.

“May I?” he asks, and Jaskier swallows and nods.

“Yeah, uh, have a blast,” Jaskier responds awkwardly.

Geralt nimbly rolls up the sleeves of Jaskier’s—well, his—shirt, revealing the deep gash, still oozing blood, and Geralt brings his fingers up to press gently around the wound.

“Did you clean it?” he asks gruffly, and Jaskier laughs nervously.

“I just took a bath. Washed around it. That should be sufficient, right?” he says, clearly knowing it’s not, and Geralt rolls his eyes. Damn bard is gonna be the death of him.

“You need healing salve,” Geralt tells him. “Wait here.”

He crosses the room and makes quick work of searching through his bag, tossing aside herbs and bottles that aren’t helpful right now, until he finds the one bottle he’s looking for. He stops by the washroom and wets a cloth before making his way back to wear Jaskier is watching him with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.

And damn it if Jaskier doesn’t look good wearing his clothes. Geralt shakes the thought away.

As soon as Geralt lifts the damp cloth and presses it to the wound, Jaskier cringes away with a hiss. “It stings!” he whines, knowing he sounds like a child but not particularly caring.

Geralt gives him a stern look. “It’ll hurt more if it gets infected. Relax. It’ll be over soon.”

Jaskier nods, chastised, and takes a deep breath, trying to relax his muscles. Geralt’s hands are unexpectedly gentle as he wipes up the remaining blood and rubs the ointment into the wound. That is, until he hits a spot that especially stings, and Jaskier sucks in a quick breath, reflexively moving his free arm to grab at Geralt’s shirt.

Geralt pauses, looking down at Jaskier’s fist clenched in his shirt before looking back at the bard with an arched brow.

“I-I’m sorry,” Jaskier stutters out, looking flustered. He unclenches his fist, but Geralt puts a hand out to stop him before he can move away.

“This is fine,” Geralt says, and Jaskier gives him an uncertain look but keeps his hand there, trying not to focus on the warmth of Geralt’s skin just a layer of clothing away.

Geralt slowly finishes cleaning the wound, reaching aside for the dressing to wrap around him with confident fingers. His eyes flick to Jaskier’s at every pained noise the bard makes, and both of them are relieved when Geralt finishes. Jaskier lets out a breath, thankful the hard part's over.

“Thank you,” he says gratefully, and Geralt merely lets out a customary, “Hmmm,” in response, though his eyes are soft. He looks down at Jaskier’s hand, still caught in his shirt.

Jaskier follows his gaze, quickly drawing his hand back. “I’m sorry,” he says again, for the second time that night, and Geralt just looks at him.

“That shirt,” he says, and Jaskier feels a flash of guilt. He really should have asked Geralt before putting it on, but he didn’t really have any other options.

“I should have asked,” Jaskier says in apology, but Geralt just stares at him for another moment, tilting his head as Jaskier fidgets nervously, unsure of what to make of the witcher’s response, or lack, thereof.

“I like it,” Geralt says decisively.

“What?” Jaskier asks, the word punched out of him with surprise.

“I like it,” Geralt repeats. “You look… nice.”

Jaskier blinks, surprised by the open compliment. “Oh. I… Why thank you, Geralt. That is a rather charming thing for you to say.”

“‘Charming’,” Geralt quotes dryly, a note of amusement in his voice. The word “charming” isn’t one that is typically used to describe him.

“Charming,” Jaskier confirms. “You know, you act like this big bad meanie, walking around with that scowl of yours, and everyone is oh so scared of the Great Butcher of Blaviken, but I know your secret, Geralt. Inside, you’re really just a huge old sof-”

He never gets a chance to finish his sentence. Geralt, almost without thinking, had slid a hand up to Jaskier’s cheek during his little tirade, and pulled him close. Even as their lips met, Geralt was telling himself, This is just to shut him up.

Jaskier makes a surprised sound, tensing for a startled moment before relaxing, mouth opening slightly to let him in. Geralt kisses the same way he does everything - with confidence and precision, and Jaskier can’t help but melt into it completely.

Geralt carefully pushes Jaskier back into the pillows, hands skirting along the bard’s side and settling at his hips. Jaskier moves to wrap his arms around the witcher’s neck, stopping as the movement pulls at his injured shoulder. He pulls away with a grimace.

Geralt quickly moves off of him, resting at his side. “You’re still in pain,” he states, eyebrows crinkling with concern.

“It’s fine,” Jaskier insists, sneaking forward for another quick kiss before Geralt places a gentle hand on him to push him back.

“You need to rest,” Geralt tells him, and Jaskier pouts.

“Are you kidding? I finally get my hands on you - after years of waiting, mind you - and you want me to rest?” Jaskier says indignantly.

Geralt blinks. “Years?”

Jaskier huffs. “Yes, you oblivious twat. Years.”

Geralt doesn’t know what to say to that. For a moment, he just watches Jaskier, eyes picking him apart, as if trying to figure out a particularly confusing puzzle. Eventually, he just wraps an arm around Jaskier’s waist and pulls him close.

“Oh, he wants to cuddle now,” Jaskier teases, and Geralt rolls his eyes fondly as the bard settles, back pressed against Geralt’s chest.

“Go to sleep, Jaskier,” Geralt grumbles, turning to snuff the candle out before pulling the covers over them both.

“Fine,” Jaskier concedes reluctantly. “But you owe me an abundance of kisses. You know, for my suffering. Making me wait and all.”

“Shut up,” Geralt tells him with no real bite, nudging him slightly. Jaskier yawns, and Geralt knows the bard must be just as tired as he is after the eventful day they had. “Go to sleep,” he reiterates. “I’ll still be here tomorrow.”

“Aw, Geralt, you old sap,” Jaskier says teasingly, and Geralt lets out a low growl. “Okay, okay, shutting up now,” Jaskier laughs, adjusting the covers until he’s suitably comfortable.

Geralt lies contentedly as Jaskier completely relaxes against him, listening to the way his breaths slows as he’s lured fully into sleep. Something protective and fierce coils in his chest, and Geralt squeezes the bard closer, as if worried he’ll suddenly disappear.

It scares him for a moment. It scares him to know that Jaskier can take his shirt and take the breath from his lungs and take his time and his space, and that, more importantly, Geralt is okay with it. He worries that he's making the wrong choice in going along with this. But Geralt as always been a little selfish, and the thought of pushing Jaskier away again hurts. He shakes the thought away.

Whatever Jaskier wants, Geralt is willing to give.

Geralt can’t help but press his lips to the side of Jaskier’s neck, hands grasping the material of Jaskier’s shirt - his shirt. He decides he likes the shirt much better on Jaskier.

Almost against his will, he feels his own eyelids start to droop, enjoying the warmth of the body in front of him. The last coherent thought Geralt has before sleep takes him is,

I should let him wear my clothes more often.

#me writing romance is yikes #i tried but uhhhhhh #it’s rough boys #hard to write romance when ur ace and probably aro lol #geralt of rivia #geralt #geralt z rivii #the witcher #jaskier #geraskier #fanfiction #the witcher fanfiction #geralt x jaskier #happy valentines day homies

[oh-for-fic-sake]

A Witchers Pack Final

The time has come and the pups arrive but will everything be alright in the end for the unconventional family of witcher's

Masterlist

Warnings:Angst, Birth, Near death or a child, Swearing, Fluff

A/n: Oh My God...so I am very happy with this and this story is now complete! Yay! I hope you like it, I enjoyed writing it and want to thank @havenoffandoms for helping me come up with this, without them this would never have been written xxx

Taglist: @ayamenimthiriel @chynagirl13 ​ @iloveyouyen

A Witchers Pack Final

You rocked slowly in front of the fire place in your and Geralt's room, one hand roamed your protruding bump. The rocking chair that had been found in the old nursery has been a god send ever since you couldn't get up from the bed, you'd been sleeping in it. You sighed it had been one hell of a night and you almost cried in relief as the sun began to peak over the mountains, long sleepless nights with only the fire for company were dreadfully boring and becoming painful, you hadn't gotten any sleep again you just pasted the time and rocked slowly pushing of the floor with your toes. You heard Jaskiers soft snores from the bed, he always stayed in here with you whilst Geralt was away on contracts. He would be back at some point today with Lambert and Eskel, they were meant to be back a few days ago wanting to be back for the birth. The birth you knew was close, it had to be if it wasn't you don't know how you was going to get them out, with the size you were it was becoming a real worry, sighing the shook the thoughts away. You turned your head and peeked threw the bars of the crib holding Rebbeka, she was sleeping soundly still clutching her rabbit that seemed to go everywhere she went at fifteen months she was already a stubborn little girl headstrong...She had everyone wrapped around her little finger and the little bugger knew it. She was a beauty her eyes had not changed one bit, still had calm light blue irises that were wide and attentive, her hair was a little lighter now longer to resting in thick loose curly waves at her shoulders soon you would be able to pull it back into pigtails.

She was still small but she didn't let that stop her. She was a perfect combination of her father and papa ,she explored with no fear getting into all sorts of mischief, becoming an early walker just to try and unsheath one of the knifes hidden in Geralt’s boot!. No one knew how she spotted it but that was just her all over she was curious to curious and a determined little madam everyone needed eyes on the back of their head when she was toddling about. But she also knew who to run to when things got a little to hairy...And no it wasn't always Geralt when he would catch her doing something naughty and scold her, she would always stop and look around and you can guarantee if Vesemir was near by she would drop to the floor and crawl as fast as she possibley could to her grandpa reaching for him whilst throwing Geralt cautious looks over her shoulder. It was quite comical watching her tuck her self into Vesemir babbling at him, clearly trying to get her father in trouble. If Vesemir wasn't around she would just give the great white wolf the run around... Then there was the time she climbed the stairs for the first time, he all but died when he found her precariously balanced half way up the stone stairs to your room playing with her snuggles. He could never keep a stern face for long always cracking when she would give him a cheesy smile and giggle at him reaching for a cuddle.

You smiled to yourself rubbing your tummy in long circular strokes trying to ease the tension, this pregnancy had been tougher and easier for different reasons. It was tougher longer much longer than with Rebbeka you was sitting on a full eleven months now, just over. It was concerning the others but you reasoned that if they had any mutations they might take a little longer to arrive ,as long as they were healthy you didn't care. Moving around was much harder this time as your stomach was huge and you had a much larger appetite e you couldn't move or sleep or do anything really. But then through all that you was thankful you wasn't on the road, you definitely wouldn't have been able to manage it. And thank the gods you didn't have much to do here either, you mostly walked around the keep spending time with Jaskier and Vesemir while the others were out on contracts. The man enjoyed having new people to share his stories with and you was thankful for them, not only did you learn about various monsters and such it also helped calm you down, took your mind off of things when you became irritable. This time around you had succumb to nesting, fidgeting and tweaking the cribs positions,tidying up and cleaning sorting through everything you had all gathered together for the children, most of the clothes and toys came from Lambert and Eskel. Who both had money on the gender, Lambert was certain you were having girls ,Eskel boys which helped in a way because you had a dresser of clothes for each. Vesemir had quietly began writing his more... Age appropriate stories in a journal he found for you,Jaskier and Geralt to read to them as they grew. Much to the younger Witchers horror many of the stories included tales of them as boys and first encounters with monsters making you and Jaskier cry with tears of laughter at the messes they got into... More so Geralt and Eskel. Jaskier may or may not have composed a few songs from the stories to use as lullabies for the pups.

The three of you had decided that the arrangement would stay the same for the new additions, Jaskier would be their papa and Geralt their father which had been a big weight off your shoulders. You huffed rocking faster closing your eyes wincing as your back ached still. But the aches wasn't as bad as the pains not only of your stomach stretching to house the pups but they were strong. To strong. The kicks and punches were definitely something to do with Geralt's witcher blood, they had to be Rebbeka was never this strong, more often then not you had been made bed bound by the shear force of a kick to the ribs, or bladder the bruises seeping through to your stomach clear as day or they would wind you to the point of nearly passing out  and in the worst cases you would end up spitting blood which worried everyone. They all agreed that the new pups have indeed inherited there fathers more peculiar genes and everyone had pushed you to take it easy, one wrong move and one of the children could really hurt you. it was one thing to be hit by a witchers strength from outside where your bones and muscles are some form of protection...But they were inside and there was nothing softening the blows.

You winced getting up as Rebbeka whined her large blues staring at you through the bars of her crib. slowly you waddled over to her grunting as you pulled her up making your way over to the changing table making quick work of her nappy then set her on the bed to wake Jaskier. She giggled scrambling up the cover sitting on his tummy

"pap..pap!" she bounced on him calling him making him groan as she jumped giggling squeezing the air out of him. quickly he moved holding on of her arms making sure she wouldn't fall and laughed at the bright child.

"Yes yes I'm up....I'm up" he huffed looking around the room spotting you

"You look like hell...no sleep again?" you pouted sitting on the bed by his feet shrugging Rebbeka giggled as Jaskier tickled her a little making her pull at his fingers making him chuckle.

"I'm used to it...can you help me down with her...I cant stay up here much longer" he smiled nodding rolling Rebbeka over onto the bed and covered her with the blanket as he rose making the pup giggle and try to wrestle her way out throwing his legs over the bed pulling on some clothes then quickly pulled the blanket from the squirming child

"boo!" she screamed then laughed as he made her jump then picked her up helping you down the steep stairs with Rebbeka on his hip making your way into the grand hall.

"AH! oof! oolf! ah ah ah pap oolf!!" Rebbeka squealed in delight as she noticed the three witchers had returned each holding there own cup full of what you presumed was herbal teas. You had to cover your mouth as you saw Geralt’s face as she called him...She was to small to call him Father and had somehow picked up the habit of calling him wolf....or oolf as she managed it, you watched as she all but kicked out at Jaskier making grabby hands to Geralt, after all he had been away for Three weeks.Jaskier put the squirming pup down before he dropped her and Geralt quickly found himself wrapped around Rebbeka as she clambered up at him. you smiled moving slowly down the length of the table settling down beside him giving a chaste kiss to his lips only to be growled at by your pup making you laugh

"I wonder where she got that from?" you said giving Geralt a look as Rebbeka continued holding his hair like reins and tucking her face into him, you moved back in your seat wincing again as your tummy tensed, it had been happening on and off all night that's why you couldn’t sleep. Eskel laughed as he watched the whole scene unfold, then saw your wince as you cupped your bump

"Whats wrong?" he asked seriously all mirth gone suddenly you had everyone's attention

"I...I think they are getting restless....I'm getting twinges is all wont be surprised if they aren’t here by the end of the week" Geralt looked at you across the table nodding bouncing Rebbeka taking a deep breath.

"If anything changes....let us know" you nodded pulling a cup from the table making your own tea adding honey. you missed the look the witcher's shared between them selves.

Over the next couple of days you noted that you were never alone one of them was always with you even when you bathed, tho if it was anyone other then Geralt of Jaskier they had to be outside of the door...Geralt had nearly ripped Lambert a new one and was only stopped by Vesemir knocking some sense into him. Currently you was sitting in the small library with Vesemir cured up leaning on him as he told you of a particularly tricky nymph contract he had Taken Geralt on as a young man, Rebbeka was having a the time of her life with the new toys from her uncles recent travels scattered about her on the rug.

"And then Geralt being the younger more rash man he was decided that he would try to out seduce The water nymph...You can imagine how I found him the next morning in the spring, he was lucky she was only after the pink pearls in his pack or-" mid way through his sentence he stopped and pulled back his yellow eyes roaming your body. You pulled back worried automatically cupping your tummy. "What is it?" he shifted moving you slightly then you felt it..Your dress was wet and so was the cushion below you. You gasped and swore face burning bright as you gathered your skirts making to stand thinking you had another accident courtesy of the pups lounging on your bladder but he stopped you keeping you seated.

"Its not...I can smell it and that isn't...They are coming its time" you opened your mouth to argue but stopped and looked down, they had been still, just like Rebbeka you hadn’t paid no mind thinking it a blessing as you managed for first uninterrupted night in weeks, you then gazed back to him frightened grabbing him tightly worried, his own concerned gaze did nothing to stem your on fears, the primal fear of birth suck in. He smoothed your hair hushing you.

"Don’t panic...It's going to be okay...I've got you" you gulped taking a deep breath. He moved quickly removing himself from your grasping hands calling over Rebbeka who crawled over to him letting him pick her up. Then made for the door opening it.

"GERALT! JASKIER ITS TIME!!" you took deep breaths as you tried to prepare yourself for whats to come in. Digging your fingers into the  padded surface of the twoseater, in a matter of moments the room was full of witchers all trying to be useful, you would have laughed had you not been quivering in fear. Geralt looked to you then the others.

"Everyone ready?" they nodded quickly dashing from the room determination on their faces you didn't have time to question them as Rebbeka was placed in Jaskiers arms Vesemir quickly  blowing a small puff of powder into her face making her cough a little then he moved casting a sign and telling the child to sleep, within moments she was sleeping peacefully in her papa's arms. As this happened you was quickly picked up by Geralt you whimpered at him as an almost pitiful tugging began on your stomach muscles.

"Geralt what? what did Vesemir? where are we going?" he hushed you and continued walking swiftly down into a basement type room it would have been dark had it not bee full of light candles you could see a small single bed that had been moved to rest atop of a table making it higher. You gasped when you saw a few tall shelves full of different vials by the side of it. Lambert was busy counting herbs and various potion names out to Eskel who was warming some water by a huge open fire place.

"G-Geralt what is this place?" he sighed and gave you a grim look. He didn't want to tell you that you was going to be giving birth here...In the very chamber he and the others had undergone their mutations, but it was the only place in kaer morhen that had the apothecary ,magical and medical necessities that they needed. they had all decided reluctantly that this was the best place, incase there was any problems no one knew what mutations or issues the pup's would have but this was the best equipped room they had.

"It's where we were made....it has everything we might need for them...If thing begin to....Its got medicine and Lambert can make any potion or elixirs we may need...I'm sorry you have to bring them into the world here but we didn't have many options." you gulped as he laid you on the bed you tried calming down as you looked up into the ceiling seeing many terrifying vials and instruments hanging you closed your eyes looking away holding Geralt’s hand tightly, he squeezed back. You looked at him frantically as yous tummy tensed this time bringing the first sharp pain, like someone twisting a blade in your gut. You gasped panting holding your stomach. He looked down placing a hand on yours Jaskier quickly placed Rebbeka on the array of pillows laid out for her and came up beside you, warely looking above to the instruments hanging around you.

"Geralt...Promise me that....If Its me or them choose them....Promise me" the others stopped and it was only then that you noticed Jaskier as he gasped then looked to the others severe looks. Geralt leaned down placing his forehead to yours looking hurt and lost.

"It...It wont come to that....That’s why we are here You will be fine all of you" you panted curling with another pain biting your lip grunting and hissing as this contraction upped the ante it lasted longer this time making you swear,once the pain passed you stayed there and gave him a kiss. whispering to him desperately.

"Promise me!" he swallowed and nodded unable to speak he looked to Jaskier who gripped your other hand.

"It will be okay, we will take care of them if..." he trailed off Geralt snapped at him but you stopped him,Jaskier understood your need for that reassurance. you squinted smiling tightly as another pain made your body tremble, you looked around frantic.

"Rebbeka?!" Vesemir appared at the bottom of the bed.

"She is here, I put her into a light sleep....well deep enough that she will not wake down here, we did not want her to see all this and be frightened" he said waving around to the torturous looking instruments.

"She is over there by the fire, see?" you tilted your head around and nodded then quickly slammed your head back as another contraction tore threw you and you screamed feeling one child shift lower, settling right at your cervix the pain didn't relent as they stayed there. you shook your head and tore at the blankets.

"I-Its not......Not stopping!!" you cried out confused as to why this pain didn't fade ass the others had. Vesemir wasted no time in holding you high off the bed letting your packmates tugged your skirts up. You moaned and screamed as the new position made your back spasm and cramp. Finally having enough of wrestling with the fabric Geralt handed Jaskier a knife cutting and ripping it away fro you and lifted your knees. Lambert came over with a tiny vial filled with a whitish grey liquid and dropper.

"Open, this is for the pain, it was used a few decades ago for birthing pains" you did open your mouth

"lift your tongue" you did as instructed and hear him count the drops once he reached five he moved away. you tensed again as another wave of pain crashed over you, you whole body trembled and tensed you screeched out.

"IT'S NOT WORKED LAMBERT!!"  he sighed at you and waved of your anger as you laid back cursing him out then as quickly as you could catch your breath another pain came this time you felt the need to push. Wasting no time you moved up to your elbows and feeling Geralt and Jaskier's hovering hands around you, they knew you were working on instinct and was merely there for moral support, you grunted grinding your teeth and curved yourself around digging your heels in the bed and pushed. you panted and dropped your head to your chest taking deep breaths as you had a moment of relief. Geralt moved his hand around concentrating feeling the pup.

"They are low...Very low the next push or one after should do it..." he said you smiled quickly at him, thank fuck!

"That’s will be quick! most humans are in this part for hours!" you heard Eskels voice from somewhere in the room

"She's omega, this is what she was made for. Her births will always be fast her body will only start going into true labor when she is already...open and able to pass the child... She has been slowly moving them lower since breakfast its why I kept her with me in the library" you looked to Vesemir shocked and went to shake your head at him going to argue but was cut of by another scream pushing with all your might baring down physically feeling the pus shift lower and lower until. Your high pitched screech took on new heights as you felt yourself bare the pup. the witcher's couldn't help but cover their sensitive ears as you cried out. Suddenly Geralt was there below you, this time not freezing or faltering he moved swiftly taking the soft cord from Jaskier tying it around the umbilical cord and cutting the child's bond from you with the curved knife used on Rebbeka. you held you breath for a few seconds as a deafening silence echoed in the room for a few moments freighting everyone. Suddenly there was a small gasp and cry form the pup you tried sitting up wanting to see your child. Vesemir moved behind you supporting you, from here all you could see was a small pink skinned bundle in your alphas arms wriggling their tiny fists about definitely not happy to be out in the cold room. Eskel made his way over holding his breath as he dragged over the warm water and cleaning rags, a crib was already beside your bed. You swore as the next pup made their was south

"Geralt!" he quickly snapped his gaze from the pup handing them to Eskel who carefully moved them to the water cleaning them gently. You cried out as the whole process started again a pain tore through you, tho you was exhausted and wanted to sleep you were more then ready to get this over with, the only sounds echoing the room was that of your cries and the newborns wails after another four contractions you whined. Laying back you looked at Jaskier gulping, you was running out of steam fast, you closed your eyes shaking your head at him. You couldn't do this.

"I-I cant...I'm sorry I cant do this....You have to-to cut them out please...Don’t let my child die!" he patted your hand tears falling as he glanced at Geralt who was frantically looking you over not believing what he was hearing.

"You are stronger than this...Please don't-dont give up!" you panted smiling to Jaskier"I'm done Jaskier, I cant do this....not this time I'm to tired" you let your tears roll down your cheeks barely wincing as another contraction hit unable to even twitch at it feeling Geralt’s eyes snap to you as he seemed to take in your weakened state. Shaking his head as his blood began running cold, his chest clenching.

"No!-No you...Y/n please...You can do this omega I know you can-" you closed your eyes then gulped, you knew the pup wouldn't survive if it wasn't out soon, you didn't have time.

"What is it?" he stopped and looked at you then to Eskel who was now swaddling the small pup.

"What-What is it?" you heard your alpha ask as you moved back resting panting yet still trying to see your new pup.

"Boy....It's a boy, Y-you have a son Geralt!" Geralt stole a glance at the now clean pup freezing as he saw it. Then crowded you

"Y-you hear that..We have a boy...Small and tongs....Please you can-I know you can do this" you winced at him

"It's not-I don't think its getting lower...We don't have time please Geralt...Save it...I'm tired" you closed your eyes pressing your head back to the pillow trying to sink into the mattress wanting to try and gain a bit of your strength. Lambert looked over to his white haired brothers devastation, then the child. He steeled himself and looked around the chamber seeing the sectioned off corner where the failed witchers were placed before being buried, he looked down growling.No. This would not happen, this chamber has to many lives to its name it will not have any more. He moved to the side of the bed pulling the child from Eskel moving so you could see him.

"You can do this! Look the very first born witcher....Not a regular pup a witcher...Look at him...Your son...Yours.. And he Needs his mother....W-We all did, but him more so than us" you turned facing him coming eye level with two amber eyes looked back at you, with the initial rush of blood now settled he was pale.... like porcelain and his hair tho it was wet you saw how pale it was, he wouldn't have pure white like his father but it would be silver, a bright shining silver. You moved a hand out to him, his cat like pupils dilated honing in on you he whined trying to reach for you. He knew who you were. He was definitely his fathers son.

"You are the only woman to manage this....And any woman strong enough to carry a witcher is strong enough to birth them... don't give up...Don't give up on them" you took a deep breath nodding to him moving forward, now seeing exactly what you would be missing you crawled forward all thoughts of giving up washed away as you kneeled on the bed. You grasped both Geralt and Jaskier's hands closing your eyes as a wave of determination washed over you finally you felt it the second the pain began you pushed with all your might not even taking a moment to breath you continued bearing down willing your child to join their brother once the contraction stopped you didn't let up, the new position had helped and the pup was just there you curled down with a final breathless shout as you pushed with your stomach muscles then as quick at the pain came it stopped as the pup fell right into Vesemir's waiting hands quickly he tied and cut the cord but the pup did not cry, it did not move, you waited nearly a whole minute before the gravity of the situation finally hit you. You looked on in horror as you took in their appearance .Blue. Your child was a deathly shade of blue. Not breathing. You screamed your anguish as Vesemir all but ran across the small space to the table with Lambert close behind with the pup, he was holding it carfully as he walked rubbing their back and chest trying to get their heart pumping.

"NNOOO! NO IT THEY CAN’T BE!" you screamed trying to stagger off the bed to your pup but was held still by Geralt, you beat at him feebly as he held you close keeping your head in his chest motioning for Jaskier to help calm you, he was terrified but he knew his family would do everything they could, he trusted them and it was decided among themselves that he would steer clear if this happened, he would console his mate. He tilted his head down trying to hold himself together as you fell to pieces in his arms.

Meanwhile Vesemir and Lambert was making quick work rubbing the pup trying to get blood flow clearing their airwaves of an blockages. there was a tiny puff of air but both witcher's saw as the pup tried taking a breath, it wasn't ill it was weak. Tired to tired to breath on its own. They nodded to each other and worked harder doubling their efforts. Vesemir moved down breathing into the tiny body still frantically rubbing the child's chest and sides, again they struggled for air. It was promising.

"Lambert the White raffards decodation...Quickly!" Lambert moved pulling down the small vial popping the cork and placing some in a pipett then handed it to Vesemir, tilting the small pups neck opening its mouth quickly he moved letting a few drops loose then rubbed the pups throat making sure it swallowed. Lambert winced as your wails continued, he moved pressing his own mouth over the pups, if they could keep those tiny breaths going long enough for the potion to work then he would be fine...He another boy...He will not die in this chamber...Not while he was here. Finally after what had felt like hours but was just a few terrifying moments the child screamed out his first breaths joining his brothers own chorus. Vesemir moved resting both hands on the table where the pup laid crying and screaming his little lungs out. And the old witcher wouldn't have it any other way. he garsped him quickly making his way to the three of you, who were so lost in grief you did not hear him. Carefully he moved Geralt back placing the boy in your arms then motioned for Eskel to place the first born there to. You froze feeling your arms full with two children.

"Y-you...You saved it? how? oh my god!Thank you! thank you so much!" you cried tucking yourself over the two, healthy breathing pups. Geralt and Jaskier joined both smiling wide enough to make their cheeks hurt. The relief of holding the two pups was unlike anything you had felt. you looked as Vesemir patted Geralt on the back.

"Two boys Geralt, you have your work cut out for you...I can’t help but think this is karma for all the stuff you pulled as a young'en...Good luck your going to need it" you pulled back seeing that Vesemir was right you held two sons. you looked at them both, identical silver hair amber eyed pups.

"Please tell me you have names ready?" you looked up at Geralt then Jaskier. who both nodded Geralt ran a finger over the oldest face.

"Aleksy...." he said making you smile then jaskier moved a hand to the younger boy

"Casmir..." you smiled two strong names...Defender of man and keeper of peace. If they were anything like Geralt and Jaskier you knew they would live up to their namesakes... you moved  to feed Aleksy as Geralt moved Casmir to the still warm bath ready to clean him off and wrap him in a blanket to keep him from the cold.

"Can we not have any more for a while? please I don't think I can go through that again" you said moving back to lay down as the other witchers cam around crowding you keeping the pups in their sights. Geralt huffed a laugh

"I will let you know in two weeks" you huffed then whined.

"Oh no you don't, knot or not we are not doing that again....you'd never stop at that rate" he laughed as he moved patting Casmir dry. you sunk into the bed relaxing.

"Would you like to wake Rebbeka now?" you thought about it and nodded.

"Yes but I'm going to sleep after I've fed these two I'm exhausted" Vesemir hummed stopping Eskel in his tracks.

"Well should wait until they are fed and we are out of here" he said motioning to the room. you smiled pulling the man down kissing his cheek.

"Thank you..I mean that, I owe you and Lambert his life" he smiled patting your head."Anything for family"

Time skip five years

You huffed walking down the corridor Vesemir close behind you, you had been looking for the pups for over an hour, since you was informed they had snuck away from Vesemir as he was tying to teach them about some of the less scary monsters. Over the last five years the twins had demonstrated there abilities and it was decided they would be trained as witchers, not one to be left out Rebbeka was also beginning to train. She would never undergo a mutation or trial but if she could brew potions and decodations and have the knowledge to defeat monsters then she would definitely be able to follow in her fathers footsteps.....Somewhat. The boys on the other hand were a different story, both had magic and the strength and reflexes of a witcher, the only thing they struggled with was their toxicity, they could not withstand many potions. And although they were witcher's and had a strong immune systems they were not completely immune and could be effected by poison venom and toxins. You sighed already hearing the shouts from the children, you followed it out to the court yard finding your three children rough housing....Over a lute.

"Hey! Aleksy! you put that down right now!" you yelled out descending the steps as your eldest son lifted the lute to bash Casmir who was holding Rebbeka in a head lock, you hurried to the courtyard meeting them half way. Tho younger both boys were bigger then Rebbeka... Something she detested. Rebbeka was slim and fast...For a human her hair was always pulled back in some type of braid, she was like Jaskier always finding herself in trouble and out numbered, but she did have a silver tongue, if they ever needed to talk their way out of trouble as a group she was the one to do it. Your two boys were very much like their Father. Even as five year olds they were broader then the typical child, and taller they both wore their silver hair down each having two braids circling back around the  tops of their ears held in place together at the back of their heads just like Geralt. Identical the only difference was Casmir had two fishtail braids and Aleksy had two dutch braids, that and Aleksy's hair was held back by a black cord and Casmir's a navy blue.  Your two boys stopped fighting and let up their elder smaller sister who had been pinned down by the scrapping boys. She huffed snatching back her lute and wacked them with it turning tail making to run into the keep only to be stopped by Vesemir spinning her with one hand halting her tantrum effortlessly.

"Hey, Whats wrong?" she stomped and threw her brothers a mean look pointing at them.

"They pushed me down! and scratched it...And and then said my singing is bad! like a shrieker!!" she cried out stomping her foot. You looked at the boys with a raised eyebrow. Vesemir followed your gaze as the two boys looked down kicking the floor.

"Is this true? and how would you know what a shrieker sounds like? Have you ever heard one pup?" they shrugged

"Well...No" they both looked to each other then their Grandpa

"Would you like our next lesson to be on a strieker...We can practice your letters with it, you can write a ten word sentence about one fifty times" they jumped up shaking their heads.No. they hated there writing, instead they wanted to have story time. which was actually Vesemir's own way to drum different monster information into their heads. He was a cunning man making them learn without them even realizing it.

"Thats not fair! she started it she pushed us first" Casmir started pointing at his sister.

"Yeah! It was only cos we wanted a go on it and she wouldn't share, she pushed us down and we pushed her back...Didn't mean to scratch it." you looked from one to the other then Vesemir who nodded, he had heard the way Rebbeka panicked heart jumping at Casmir's words.

"Then its settled all three of you will practice your letters tomorrow morning with Grandpa..." they all groaned whining but you held up a hand

"And what has your father said about fighting? If you want to fight then you can do drills with grandpa....All three of you. I wont have this nonsense each time by back is turned you understand me?" you said pointing at each of them they looked down gasping at the mention of drills with Vesemir, they watched the grueling training that their Papa was put through, that was enough for them to want to avoid that training for as long as possible. They ran to you clutching your skirts.

"No!No Mama please!"

"Don't let grandpa do that please please we're sorry!" you chuckled at the panicked looks.

"Whats all this about?" you giggled as the two boys quickly bombarded their fathers pleading with them to save them from Grandpa's training. Geralt sent you a look

"Well for your mother to threaten you with such a punishment you must have been doing something naughty" you crossed your arms as Rebbeka quickly running to Jaskier making him hoist the girl up.

"Fighting! every chance they get, every time my back is turned! and lying" Geralt raised an eyebrow and placed the two boys down Jaskier doing the same with Rebbeka.

"What exactly have I told you three bout lying ?" they looked sheepish suddenly become interested in the floor

"I will have no more of that, you do and you’ll be in serious trouble!" you sighed as the children all looked upset close to tears, they never liked being scolded by any of you, but least of all their father, they looked up to him. But you saw a glint in Geralt’s eye as he gave them a lopsided grin.

"And what do I say about fighting?" he paused giving them a guilty look as they looked up at him nervously waiting his answer, he ducked down smirking 'whispering' to them.

"Never where your mother can see you, practice stealth"

"Geralt!?!" you cried out as the children laughed and he motioned for them to go play, forgetting the whole incident as they chased one another into the keep. you frowned at the alpha who didn't even feign a timid look. You sighed at him as he swooped in kissing you.

"Mate?" you wrapped your arms around him.

"Do you have to encourage them? they run me ragged as it is....Already popping up in places they shouldn't be... Disappearing at a moments notice they are manageing to escape Vesemir already!" the old witcher laughed shaking his head at his student.

"They all have a few years on you Geralt, you was what eight? nine? before you managed that?" the White wolf sighed and looked at you tilting his head and gave his argument.

"Then they are going to be brilliant at sneaking, a very useful trait" you deadpanned

"Yes Very good until they start sneaking into the lab...which has happened twice already" his brow furrowed and he nodded.

"Fine I will talk to them about that, but I have other things to do first" You glowed at him

"Dare I ask?" he smiled cheekily and scooped you up over his shoulder making you squeak

"YOU PUT ME DOWN THIS INSTANT!! GERALT! STOP!"  you beat at his back making him laugh you watched as Jaskier tried hiding his giggles entering behind you both as Geralt turned towards the stairs. the kids moved beside him looking at you both funny.

"OOHH is father upset with Mama?" Rebbeka asked knowing the only time Geralt held her or her brothers like that was when they'd been really bad and was gonna get a hiding.

"Wonder what she did? Is he going to spank her you think?" hearing your youngest's question you sputtered and went bright red.

"No of course your father isn't going to-OUCH GERALT!" Geralt made it worse by laughing out loud as he popped you on the ass once whilst he continued up the stairs going out of sight, you heard your children's squeals and chatter as they was ushered away for lunch.

Timeskip 13 years

You stood on the bridge to kaer morhen, today was the day you dreaded. you were finally letting them go...Out into the world... you looked down trying hard not to cry, the only small mercy was they were going to be together as a group. They promised to stay with one another for the year...A whole year with out them they would be back in the winter,Lambert and Eskel  were going to stick close to them, not to close but enough to help if they needed it. you Geralt and Jaskier would leave kaer morhen in three weeks and avoid them. They needed this to fly the nest but it was so hard no matter how big they got they were still your babies. you trembled as Aleksy moved saddling his horse. he and his brother were tall and strong boys Men they were men now...Alphas...Witchers wide and powerful their magic had grown their signs were potent. you kept looking over them. Aleksy still preferred black and dark grey's, Casmir navy blues and dark forest greens. Casmir had cut his hair on the sides shaved one large braid pulling the rest of his hair back. Aleksy had long hair...Longer than his fathers and a style like his fathers the top pulled back but held in a braid not a ponytail. both of them were the spitting image of Geralt. Then there was Rebbeka she was a stunning woman, she could pass as a nymph with her dainty form Puberty had done her well and she had surprised everyone by presenting as an alpha...Thank god... she was always in dark reds and purples and had her hair up in its twisted bun hiding no lest then four steel sharpened hair sticks, she was less brash then her brothers, more one for sneaking around stealth was her game and with her charm an wit she managed to navigate humans with ease running rings around them until wheedling out the truth she always looked for the finer details and was very rarely wrong. You watched as they all packed up their horses, you noted none of them looked at you of their papa. You didn't blame them you andJjaskier couldn't hide your emotions well. Geralt could you knew he was worried, the fact he had tole Lambert and Eskel to tail them was a testament to that. you shook your head, you knew they could handle themselves, they had been proving it ever since your pack had been traveling for a few months at a time since they were fourteen or so. Getting first hand experience on the field alongside their father and grandpa. you smiled hugging Jaskier who wasn't holding it together at all fiddling with his lute trying to busy his hands and not wipe at his eyes. finally the time came and they turned to you all, you took a deep breath and hugs each of your children.

"Remember, not to much ale or women....That means you two Rebbeka I know you'll all want your fun away from us but please no pups yet! and don't you forget to wash and bath regularly..oh and please always have at least two fights worth of swallow and-and" you were hushed by them laughing and blushing at certain points of your worried mumbling.

"We know mother...We will be careful in and out of the sheets...You don't have to worry its just one year and we will be back before winter settles in" you gripped Casmir's arm giving them each one last kiss then stepping back reluctantly nodding as they gave their fathers heart felt goodbyes. Geralt imparting some more words of advice making them all roll their eyes. For such a hard man he loved his children to death you pity the fools who ever harm his children. he did shock them all by also gifting them their very own wolf medallion's, tho it was different from his, instead of having one wolf head there was four, one large at the top .Geralt. And three smaller heads...Pups. They swallowed back their tears as he place one over each of their heads. It was decided that these pendants would suffice as their own witcher medallion's instead of the traditional ones, as they were not your everyday witchers. they hugged their father tight then pulled back. Finally Jaskier hugged Rebbeka and then did the unthinkable thrusting his precious lute into her hands.

"I know you've always loved this thing...And it has seen its fair share of adventures... Collecting songs on the way....And I think it could do with some more..." she gasped trying to hand it back but Jaskier shook his head at her.

"Nope its yours now...A good luck charm and also a reason for you to make it back home..I can't wait to hear of your tales of vallor...all of you but please..please stay safe." you teared up as he didn't this hugging each of the boys on last time  and moving back to stand with you and Geralt. You took deep breaths watching as they made their way down the path away from you holding it together until you were sure the boys wouldn't hear you, then broke into tears. holding onto your mate and Jaskier who both were shedding their own tears, both of sadness and joy. Sad for their departure yet all three of you were ecstatic in the knowledge that you had done it. Your pack had a legacy. The three of you created raised and taught three perfectly rounded people. Three witcher's all capably of protecting all who needed protecting weather it be man or monster. The last witcher's to ever train and leave kaer morhen.

"They will be okay...They will be fine, they are trained and smart and strong..." you looked to Geralt nodding agreeing with him as he sighed ushering you both into the keep walking past the other witchers. you took one final look over your shoulder and shook your head sighing. you smiled squeezing Geralt and Jaskiers waist. They will be fine. you knew they would and you couldn't wait to hear the songs of their victories and you would count down the days until they returned home.

#geralt x reader #geralt of rivia #geralt imagine #geralt x y/n #geralt x you #witcher fanfiction #witcher fic #witcher imagine

[king-finnigan]

For the drabble, geraskier!roomates AU & 6. I think would be fun :)

Sentence 6:  “Do I love you? Yes. Do I like you? That’s still up for debate.”

Also @lets-play-gwent gave me the same combination so,,, here you go!

***

Geralt sighs, bending down the second he steps through the door, picking some dirty socks off the floor. He throws it in the laundry basket in the corner, dumping his backpack on his deskchair before he sits down on his bed. It’s meticulously made, of course, just as his father taught him, and his side of the room is absolutely spotless. Jaskier’s side on the other hand...

His roommate’s bed is unmade, pillows strewn around on the floor next to it, along with some dirty laundry and several textbooks. Geralt frowns as he spots an empty pizza box underneath the bed. Gross. He’ll have to talk to Jaskier about that when his roommate comes back from class. Again. This is... what? The third time this month he’s had to tell Jaskier to clean up his shit? He’s been living with the guy for a few months now, and the mess is only getting worse, slowly spreading to Geralt’s side of the room. Honestly, if he hadn’t been into Jaskier so much, he would’ve asked the landlord for a different roommate ages ago.

But no, he puts up with the mess, he cleans up after Jaskier, kills the spiders in the bathroom when his roommate is too scared to, and he makes sure Jaskier eats three meals a day and sleeps at least four hours every night, because Jaskier tends to not do either of those things. And all because of some silly crush he has on the guy.

Though he knows that, by now, it’s developed into something more than a crush. But he doesn’t like talking about feelings - they’re complicated and messy and unpredictable - so he hasn’t said anything. Besides, it would make things extremely awkward when Jaskier would inevitably say he doesn’t feel the same way. And there’s also of course the chance that someone might go blabbering around about Geralt’s sexuality, and then he’s sure that whatever roommate he gets will be distrusting of him. Even more so than people already are. Of course, he doesn’t expect Jaskier to tell others about it, if he does confess how he feels, but someone else might. And that’s a risk he’s not willing to take just yet.

So for now he cleans up his crush’s dirty laundry and textbooks and makes sure Jaskier doesn’t accidentally sleep deprive or starve himself to death. 

The door opens, and he looks up as Jaskier’s bounds into the room, throwing his backpack into the corner, falling down on his own bed. “Ugh, Murphy fucking sucks.”

“Why?” He assumes Jaskier’s talking about one of his professors.

“He gave us a pop quiz on chapter 3 to 5 of Pride and Prejudice. Who the fuck even gives pop quizzes in uni? Unbelievable. I totally failed that one, what an asshole.”

Geralt raises an eyebrow. “Let me guess, you were supposed to read chapter 3 to 5 and you didn’t, which is why you failed.”

Jaskier remains uncharacteristically quiet for a few seconds. “... Maybe.”

Geralt snorts. “Can you clean your side of the room today? I don’t feel like getting rats.”

Jaskier heaves a dramatic sigh, and slings his arm over his eyes. “I’ll do it tomorrow.”

“You said that last week.”

“And I cleaned the next day, didn’t I?”

“No, you didn’t. You said ‘don’t tell me what to do, pretty boy’ and went out to get drunk.”

Jaskier grins. “Oh, yeah, now I remember. Or at least part of it, I did get pretty fucked up. That was fun.”

“You got back at 6 and you had class at 8. You said, and I quote: ‘fuck school, I do what I want’ and proceeded to throw up in the hallway.”

Jaskier turns his head to look at Geralt. “I did? Huh, that’s why the cleaning lady’s been giving me all those dirty looks. Maybe I should buy her some chocolate as an apology.”

“Please just clean your mess up.”

Jaskier pouts, resolutely looking at anything but Geralt. “Later.”

“Jaskier.”

“I said, later, Geralt. I’m too tired to do it now.”

He clenches his jaw in annoyance. Really, he doesn’t even understand why he’s got a crush on Jaskier in the first place. He’s messy, annoying, always loud and distracting - so that Geralt usually has to study in the library - he gets drunk all the time on weekdays and comes back to their dorm early in the morning, waking Geralt up way too soon, and he never fucking cleans anything. 

He wipes a hand over his face in annoyance, frustration building in him. He stands up, grabbing his backpack and a couple of textbooks, before heading for the door. “Please clean your mess up.”

“Geralt, I don’t want to.”

He resists the urge to slam his own head against the door. “Honestly, I can’t fucking believe you, Jaskier. Just... Do I love you? Yes. Do I like you? That’s still up for debate. Clean your shit up.”

And with that, he’s out the door, still too annoyed to fully realize what the hell he just said.

---

That realization hits him when he comes back from the library, a few hours later, and he’s in front of their door, remembering what he said to Jaskier before he left. He leans his forehead against the wood, dread filling him, anxiety coiling in his stomach. Did he really fucking tell Jaskier he loved him? What kind of idiot does that? 

Apparently, the kind of idiot he is. He sighs, bracing himself as he opens the door, not ready to be rejected just yet, but he can’t stand in the hallway all night. He stops in his tracks when he sees that the room is... clean.

He frowns, closing the door behind him. His eyes really aren’t decieving him - Jaskier’s bed has been made, the dirty laundry has been put in the laundry basket, and the books are on the shelves. Huh. Feels weird, a clean room. 

What’s even weirder, though, is the fact that Jaskier isn’t there. Though, when Geralt turns around, he spots a sticky note on the door. ‘Out’ it simply says, and Geralt figures that means Jaskier has gone drinking with his best friend, Yennefer.

At least he doesn’t have to face the confrontation with his feelings and the lack of Jaskier’s just yet. At least until tomorrow. So, he eats dinner, watches some Netflix, and goes to sleep early.

---

He wakes up in the early morning as the door of the room closes. He remains still as Jaskier stumbles around, pretending to be asleep as his roommate softly hums to himself, tossing his shoes on the floor rather loudly.

He frowns when the bed dips behind him, his confusion growing when he feels a warm body against his, an arm over his waist.

“Geralt, you awake?” Jaskier half-whispers to him.

“You’re drunk,” he mutters back, smells the alcohol on Jaskier.

“Okay, yeah, I am, but I need to tell you something.”

He sighs softly. He has class in a few hours, and he’s pretty sure Jaskier does too - he’d much rather sleep right now than talk. “What is it?”

“I love you too.”

He frowns, freezing slightly as Jaskier’s breath behind him deepens and evens out, his roommate falling asleep, still cuddled up to him.

He sighs again, slowly relaxing in Jaskier’s embrace. He supposes this is a conversation they really need to have again in the morning, but for now, he lets himself feel relieved and a little ecstatic.

***

Send me a situation and a sentence, and I’ll write a drabble!

#Anonymous #squish answers #geraskier #the witcher #geralt of rivia #jaskier #drabble #taking requests for these until thursday 23/07 #also i'll try to get them done within 24 hours of getting them #but please be patient with me

[crowleyellestair]

Oh please post the other things you wrote for the accidental hit, I’d hate for you to go through all that work just to not post them

AN// Well, Im glad you liked the first one : ) Here’s a couple others!

 Prompt: What would happen if Geralt accidentally happened to hit the reader

1.

When the first touch came, Geralt hadn’t reacted. He thought it best to act completely docile. He might have lost most of his senses to whatever potions he had been forced to take, but he still had his wits about him.

The witcher knew he was in a cell, as the first time ‘round they had only taken his sense of smell. It seemed he was to be on display. Before his captors noticed, he saw how lush the small area he was confined to was. He could also hear others prattling around in rooms next to him. The face paced heartbeats of other humanoid beings, but most likely creatures of different elk. The people who had taken him must have been used to the effects, as the lithe woman who frequented his bars knew right away upon looking into his eyes that he was fully functional. The next to go was his hearing. It was a shame it wasn’t taste, as the slop they fed him was rejuvenating, but was the worst thing to ever grace his tongue. It had been about a week, he guessed since he was captured. A day or two since the only thing he could do was feel his surroundings.

The surprise he felt when hands gently touched him covered only an inkling of anger. It wasn’t borne out of self-pity of a witcher being caught, nor was it because they’ve tried to reduce him to nothing. No. It was because he was taken on the way back to camp. It had been a ten-day contract keeping him from Y/n. Wonderful, gorgeous Y/n, who always waited patiently for his return. Foolishly, his love blinded him, and he started to promise her he would return. Now, he’d be eating sludge for the rest of his days, while also breaking a promise to the most important person in his life. A century of dull skies with the only burst of light being her, and now he’s ruined it. If he had made it back, would she ever forgive him? Of course, that was only if she was okay to begin with. Geralt trusted her sense of survival, and he’d spent hours trying to teach her important skills, but he doesn’t trust the world around them. Y/n would be fine, but there are countless external factors that could harm her. She was in the woods with the bard for ten days as it was. It was already pushing the limits.

Geralt had decided at the beginning of this ordeal that he wouldn’t live through this for himself. He would get free for her. Even if she was upset that he left her, she deserves a spoken apology. Jaskier had deserved one on the mountains, and he wasted so much time denying that fact. It was only recently that the man came back into his life, and even if Y/n didn’t remain, she shouldn’t live with anger she didn’t need.

His suspicions of being on display went through the window when the slightly calloused hands touched him, but it hadn’t mattered. Act docile, and wait till he can feel something important. What is important? He doesn’t know yet, but he has something to fight for. He’ll get out. He tried his damndest to not flinch when those hands cupped his cheeks, and turned him- inspected him. Geralt remembered seating himself on the far end of the bed, which means who ever was there with him must be in the actual cell. He felt the breath of whomever it was push against his skin, alluding to someone out of breath, or emotionally rampant. Prickles of hair ends could be felt on his arm as the person tried in vain to throw in over their shoulders. Once he felt another pair of hands, with callused finger tips, he struck.

The heel of his palm went against the nose of the first person, and they fell out from under his arm. The second scribbled his hands against his chest and back, trying to find their grip. Geralt was confused with how unorganized this whole operation was. How did they get him there in the first place with this? If these weren’t the same people, how could the leaders let such unprotected weaklings get close? Unless, of course, he was meant to hurt them. The thought slowed him down, but he was still on the defensive. The hands on his chest and back stopped as he did, only slightly pushing him against the bed. As if suggesting he should calm down. The long fingers reminded him of his old friend, but that only set him more on edge. Geralt felt a bottle touch his lower lip, and he started to move, until stunned into one spot. A familiar flick against his nose shocked him, and a hand from before grabbed his. The size of the hand was the same as Y/n’s, the calluses becoming familiar. The small, squarish vial was one of his, and it narrowed the options. Joy soared through him as one of the options from his chest was White Honey. If anyone knew what to give Geralt immediately, it would be Y/n. He remembered the first time he crawled back to her half-conscious, unable to instruct her. He heard her frantic voice think out loud, and it echoed through him now.

‘White Honey first to flush, then Swallow to save.’

He brought the bottle to his lips and downed it as quick as possible. He handed the vial back as ringing started to throb through his skull. Y/n’s hand brought his back to hers, which now held swallow, but didn’t give it to him directly. Her wit was something he admired about her, and this was making his heart soar with pride. Instead of forcing him to take it, she was waiting. She would have no idea when the toxins would be flushed enough for him to take the new potion. Take it too fast, and the Honey would flush that too.

Pain rippled through him, everything invading his senses at once, but both Y/n and what he assumes is Jaskier hold him. The first thing he wished to see was Y/n, safe, yet her nose looked crooked and blood poured past her chin. A bright smile spread, red teeth flashing past her lips once she saw recognition in his eyes. Her arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders, and he hugged back, seeing the smiling visage of his bard. The lute player’s hand lightly cupped the back of the witchers head before walking out of the bars, looking around. Geralt pushed her away slightly to take in her apparent broken nose, the realization setting in once he remembered his escape movements. He was the one to break her nose.

His fear must have been apparent as her smile dropped, and her hands cupped his cheeks once more.

“Hey, it’s okay. I thought you were out of it. I should have checked further.”

“I should have recognized your hands.”

“Darling, you had no senses other than touch. I’m sure it would be difficult. Plus, you had no idea we were coming.” Geralt noticed his potions carry-bag slung over her shoulder. He reached in, grabbing the bandages, slowly dabbing around her nose. Y/n chuckled lightly before stopping his hand. “You’re kind, but we need to get out first.” The witcher scolded himself, as he was so focused at what was in front of him, that he didn’t evaluate if they were safe or not, and the likelihood is not. He didn’t know what he was- could do to make up for it, but he’d do anything for Y/n once they got far from wherever they were.

 2.

It was the third winter at Kaer Morhen, and Y/n was used to the routine. It was Friday, which meant that Geralt would stay late with his brothers drinking, and she would stay in their room. There had been too many instances of Lambert being upset by her intrusion on ‘guys night’, so she happily lounged in the large bed.

Tonight, however, had been very cold. Geralt was blessed with the best room out of the three younger witchers, though it was a weird layout. The hearth and chimney were on the same wall as the door, which happened to be the shortest walls of the abnormal, pentagonal room. One wall was a large door to a balcony, though usually the doors somehow kept the cold away. It seemed that this night might be a different story, though. What motivated her to curl up between the door and the fireplace was the need for warmth and a clear, relaxed mind. If she would have thought over the possible outcomes of sitting behind the door, she would have thought of something else. However, after some mindless sitting, she found that this was the warmest spot.

Y/n hadn’t a clue how much time had passed, or when she fell asleep, but she did know that the immense pain in her nose is what woke her. Her eyes snapped open to find a worried Geralt leaning over her, eyes full of fear, but a shaky, grin-less laugh. She could tell the effects of Lambert’s White Gull brew was still making him tipsy, so she doesn’t fault him for the laughing.

His hands went up to her cheeks, but his thumb pressed to hard near her nose, and her quiet, painful squeak made him recoil faster than she had ever seen. When she gritted out that it was okay, he practically fell on her in a bear hug, giving out broken apologies. Her own hand flew to her nose, and when she couldn’t see any blood, she knew she was fine. It took a while to convince him she was fine, and to get them both in bed. Once they were situated, Geralt continued to drunkenly nuzzle her neck and wrap himself like a vice around her. Despite her foolish mistake and his drunkenness, the hugs were nice. It was just a hint of what would happen tomorrow night when she would force him to cuddle sober and pain free.

 3.

Jaskier’s laugh echoed through the small clearing in the forest where they had set their camp up the night prior.

“I leave for one bath and you two finally sort thins out without an audience. That’s disappointing.” His amused tone made Y/n roll her eyes from her spot on her bed roll. An annoyed grunt could be heard from Geralt, who was frantically searching through his saddle bag. When he found the cold waterskin, he walked to Y/n, gently handing it to her. He plopped down next to her as she brought it to her swollen bottom lip, and watched as she winced. When a scandalized gasp left the bard, Geralt shook his head, but kept his focus on the woman before him.

“Shut it, bard. It’s not what it looks like.” Jaskier’s hands flew to his hips, towel still laying over his head as he was previously rubbing it dry.

“What it looks like, Geralt, is that you are a brute in bed. Be gentle, my friend, gentle. You’ll get much farther next time if you remember that simple thing.” Cornflower blue eyes darted to their female companion as she huffed.

“Geralt was having a nightmare, and I tried to wake him up gently. He got up fast, I was too close, and his head collided with my lip. It hit my teeth, that is why it’s swollen.” The bard also plopped onto his bedroll, looking at the embarrassed witcher. His gaze darted back to her as his brow raised.

“I told you that you need to use a stick-.”

“He’s not an actual wolf, Jaskier. It was an accident, it’s fine.” And it was, truly. Hell, the woman felt bad as he could see the internal war happening on the witcher’s face over his guilt. When both men said ‘no it’s not’ in unison, however, she huffed and fell back against her roll. She knew Jaskier was teasing the man, but he wasn’t helping Geralt steer clear of self-hatred, which would mess up the hard work she had put into it so far.

#witcher imagine #witcher x reader #geralt x reader #geralt imagine #geralt x y/n

[the-book-reaper]

my @thewitchersecretsanta gift for @saltytransidiot!! I’m no IndigoDream, inexplicifics, round--robin, or any of the other amazing authors in this fandom, but I hope this makes you smile 💕💕

Jaskier absolutely loves wintering at Kaer Morhen. Geralt had finally worked up the nerve to invite him  to meet his family two years ago. They’d been together for thirteen years and together for a little over five.

Jaskier loves the winter because it’s really the only time Geralt gets to completely relax. With his father-figure (though none of them would ever admit it) and brothers there, isolated from a world that seems to wish them every harm.

read on ao3 here

Even after just two winters with them, Jaskier loves Lambert and Eskel. Not in the same way as he loves Geralt, of course, but as some mix of friend and brother. Eskel showed him around the library and Jaskier is teaching him how to craft his own lute, since every lute made for a human would be much too small. Lambert, while he loves his pranks, is quite clever and they can spend hours trading riddles and jokes.

He’d been expecting at least some animosity from Vesemir, considering he is the first “human” to enter Kaer Morhen since the raids. Geralt had blushed so adorably when Vesemir casually mentioned how often he talks about his bard. Jaskier likes doing food prep with him, though he’ll leave the actually cooking to the old wolf. The few times he tried… well, let’s just say those scorch marks in the stone of the kitchen weren’t completely intentional.

He loves cuddling up to Geralt in the evenings, all five of them around the crackling fireplace. He’d tried one sip of Lambert’s moonshine and started tearing up from the sheer amount of alcohol in it. The wolves would need a lot of human drinks to get drunk, so they usually only can during the winter. Every coin they make on the Path goes to food, shelter, supplies, and the occasional prostitute. Anyway, they don’t feel safe enough around humans to allow themselves to be in such a vulnerable state even if they did have the money.

Vesemir never gets terribly drunk. Actually, Jaskier has never seen him act even just the littlest bit intoxicated, even though the witchers drink from the same barrel and roughly the same amount. Eskel either stops after he feels tipsy or drinks until he falls asleep. Lambert usually has to be cut off once he starts suggesting things like going outside—during a blizzard—to spar. Naked.

And Geralt. Oh, how Jaskier loves his witcher. Completely sober, Geralt always maintains at least one point of contact with him if they’re in the same room. After one drink, he purrs easily and will grumble at Jaskier if he stops playing with his hair. At two, Geralt either pulls him into his lap, or is nearly in Jaskier's lap.

Somewhere between three and four is the adorable sweet-spot. When he hits this point, Geralt gets sad if Jaskier's attention strays from him too long. He demands many kisses, pouts if he only gets a peck, and whines adorably if Jaskier refuses him outright. Jaskier will herd him to their room at this point, where he cuddles his darling witcher until he falls asleep, secure in his arms.

This year, he is very much looking forward to exchanging their gifts. Geralt has been extremely secretive about his present, and the anticipation is killing him. This year, Jaskier’s gotten his love a couple new journals with some pencils, colored chalks, and a few paints.

Geralt recently shared that he initially had a lot of trouble with memorizing the bestiary. After the first couple beatings when he couldn’t answer the Masters’ questions, he learned that if he drew each monster, labeling as he went, he was able to retain the information much easier. Soon, he had a sketchbook completely filled with drawings and his only bruises were from training or roughhousing.

But once he’d memorized the bestiary completely, he didn’t want to stop drawing. So he started filling up notebooks with sketches of herbs and flowers, whether or not they had a use. Then he turned to anything he could think of, really.

Nothing is secret in Kaer Morhen though, and the other trainees mocked him mercilessly about it. Eventually he just stopped drawing altogether. Once he was on the Path, he didn’t exactly have much coin to spare on such frivolous things.

When the bard started improving his image, however… Geralt found his coin-purse to be not nearly as empty as it was before. Still, he worried that Jaskier would make fun of him about this hidden interest as well.

He honestly can’t even remember how, but Jaskier did find out and actually supported it, surprisingly. Jaskier had even been the one to buy his first notebook along with a few different pencils.

He never made fun of him, instead praising his art to a near ridiculous extent. Ridiculous to Geralt, that is. Jaskier insisted he was merely being honest.

Now Yule is coming up, and Jaskier has his gifts prepared. The art supplies for Geralt. A good set of strings for Eskel’s lute and some more sheet music. For Lambert he’s brought a book of 500 names since the idiot never calls his horses anything but “Horse” as well as more of that fancy soap he pretends to hate.

Vesemir is always the toughest. The old wolf doesn’t want for much, and it’s pretty bad form—in Jaskier's opinion—to give a person a gift they’ve already received in the past. Last year, Jaskier gave him an extremely old book of poetry written in Elder Speech he’d gotten for a steal at the market. The poor merchant had absolutely no idea about the true value of it!

That find had just been a fluke however, but he somehow got lucky again this year.

--

Now, four Wolves and one bard lounge by an open fire, safe and content. Jaskier takes another sip of his hot tea, the warmth spreading through his body. He can’t help but snuggle in closer to Geralt, who squeezes him gently with the arm around his waist. Finally, it’s time to open presents.

Jaskier insists they open their gifts from him first. He simply can’t take any more anticipation; he needs to know what they think. They’ll probably like them, but there’s always that little niggling voice telling him they’ll only say they like it to be polite.

“Oh, fuck you.” It seems Lambert has opened his gift the fastest. “And why do you keep getting me this fancy-pantsy soap?”

“Why do you keep using it?” Jaskier teases. Geralt chuckles at Lambert’s petulant grumble. Warmth completely unrelated to his tea blooms in Jaskier's chest. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with being nice to yourself every once in a while, my little wolf.”

Lambert growls at him, but can’t protest because he is several decades younger than Jaskier.

Eskel and Vesemir love their gifts, which is good because Jaskier had no doubt whatsoever that they would. Absolutely none.

He turns to Geralt, who had been able to open his gift with only the one hand, and is staring down at the art supplies in his lap. Jaskier doesn’t think he’s breathing. His heart drops. “Darling? It’s okay if you don’t like-”

Geralt quickly sets the gift aside, pulling him into a bone-crushing hug. His shoulders are shaking suspiciously. “Oh! Oh, my dear. I take it you do like your present, then?” Jaskier tries to add a teasing tone to his words, but he really was not expecting this kind of reaction.

“Thank you,” Geralt whispers emphatically into his neck.

Jaskier adjusts his grip on his—thankfully unsplit—tea and hugs him back just as fiercely. After a moment, Geralt releases him, kissing him softly.

There’s a gagging sound to their right and Jaskier has to pull away to laugh. Eskel cuffs Lambert on the back of the head—almost starting a spat—but Vesemir growls at them before it can go much further.

They move on to opening Vesemir’s gifts, no one mentioning the water in Geralt's eyes. Despite being crass and rough with each other, the Wolves know when not to make fun of something.

They open their gifts from Geralt last. Jaskier unties the meticulously wrapped string and unfolds the paper. Inside is something made from yarn, a light lavender that’s ever-so-slightly reflective. He runs a finger over the indescribably soft yarn, breathing in sharply. The fabric unfolds as he picks it up, revealing it to be a long scarf. Holding it closer, he can see the beautiful design woven along its entire length. There are a few breaks in the pattern, but they only make it more perfect.

Geralt spent gods know how long making this, either late at night or early in the morning, most likely frustratedly undoing his work half the time. That he spent so much time and effort, remembering how Jaskier is sensitive to the cold, and deciding to do something about it… His eyes prickle with an emotion he cannot name, he only knows that the word “love” is not strong enough.

He looks up at Geralt, who seems nervous. “Darling… You made this?” he whispers, just to be sure. Geralt nods and Jaskier mimics his love’s actions from earlier, throwing his arms around him—mindful of his drink, of course—and holding him close. “I love it so much. I can’t even imagine how difficult it must have been!” Jaskier releases him and holds the scarf up. “Will you put it on me?”

With reverent hands, Geralt wraps it loosely around his neck. Jaskier rubs a cheek against the yarn, breathing in Geralt's scent, etched into every fiber.

What happened after that, Jaskier honestly couldn’t tell you. The rest of the night passes in a sort of happy daze. Geralt gets all gooey with him and Vesemir herds them all off to bed.

He would have slept with the scarf on, but his dear witcher is much too fond of falling asleep with his nose buried in Jaskier's neck. They both relish in the little touches. Being able to hear the other’s heartbeat, feel their chest move as they breathe.

The undeniable truth of it gets to Jaskier sometimes. That scarf is just one more testament to their love. He really had been loathe to part with it so soon, but it would have just become tangled or stifling in the night. Besides, no item of clothing—even one made by Geralt—could ever amount to the man himself.

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #the witcher #secret santa #no angst only somft

[ficsandcatsandficsandcats]

I see the other anon(s?) with their tropes that are just excuses for cute cuddling and raise you: Snowed In. A small cabin. A storm howling outside. Whatever will the reader and Jaskier do?

Fandom: The WitcherPairing: Jaskier x ReaderWord Count: 1,673Rating: GTaglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak @whatevermonkey @mynamesoundslikesherlock @magic-multicolored-miracle a/n: This is such an excellent trope 10/10 to you

“Well the good news is there’s cheese.”

Jaskier flashed you an optimistic smile and you laughed. Not the laugh of someone who’s heard a joke. The sort of laugh you make when everything’s gone wrong and it’s too ludicrous to be sad anymore.

“What’s the bad news?” you asked.

“What makes you think there’s bad news?” he challenged.

“That’s the setup, right? The good news is X, the bad news is Y,” you said.

“Maybe I only bring good news?”

You gave him a meaningful look and he sighed.

“Alright. We may, possibly, sort of be snowed in,” he said the last bit in a rush, a little wince on his face as he waited for your reaction. It had been a rough day overall. You’d gotten lost in the woods, you’d argued over how to find your way out, then the snow started and you were freezing and totally soaked through and there was no dry firewood in the little cabin (if you could call it that) in the middle of the woods. And you wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon.

“Well,” you said, trying to summon a weak smile, “At least there’s cheese!”

You were trying to be brave for him, knowing how hard it must be for Jaskier not to be able to just make things right. He was determined to make the best of it so you would be as well. You looked around the cabin. It didn’t take long as it was just a single room with a little wood stove, a larder box where Jaskier had found the cheese, a dilapidated table with two chairs, a cot in the corner that looked like it was now an orphanage for wayward rats, and a wardrobe you were a bit scared to open.

“Before we have that, I’m going to find something for you to change into,” Jaskier said, a look of determination settling on his face as he walked purposefully over to the wardrobe and pulled it open. There were stacks of blankets that looked to be in pretty decent condition, a thick coil of rope, and, best of all, some matches and firewood.

“Alright now we’re talking!” Jaskier exclaimed happily, “There isn’t much wood but enough to cook with.”

“Cook what? The cheese?”

“Well I didn’t mention it at the time because I didn’t want to get your hopes up but I may have also spied something that looked suspiciously like sausages,” he said with a little smile. “But first let’s get you out of those clothes.”

“Pardon?”

“You can’t stay in wet clothes and neither can I. We’ll both have to change,” he insisted.

“Into what?” you asked.

He held up the blankets in one hand and the rope in the other and you could tell by the look in his eyes that there was no use arguing with him.

You stood back to back and stripped, your teeth chattering as the cold air hit your bodies and you both quickly draped the blankets around you and cinched it with a quilt.

“Well I think we look quite fetching,” Jaskier said, doing a little turn in his makeshift tunic. You giggled and allowed him to spin you around, the heavy quilt thwapping against his legs as you turned. It was still cold and you were hungry and the howling winds outside reminded you of the danger you were in if you didn’t find a way out someday soon, but Jaskier was still able to make you laugh and make it all feel that much more bearable.

He unearthed the sausages from the larder and chipped away the ice as you scooped up some snow to melt in the pot.

“Are you still angry with me?” Jaskier asked as he watched you light the meager firewood you had, crowding near the stove together for the warmth it gave off.

“No, that wasn’t fair to you,” you said, “It’s not your fault we got lost. I just got scared and wanted to blame someone else for it.”

“I’m pretty good at that,” he said with a rueful smile.

“Hey,” you said, reaching a newly warmed hand to touch his icy shoulder. His eyes traveled from your hand to your face and you got lost for a moment in the soft, warm depths of his eyes. “You don’t deserve that. If I’m ever cross or rude to you again for no good reason, please tell me to just fuck off.”

“I would never,” he said with a laugh.

“Why not?”

“It’s not very gentlemanly for one thing.”

“Oh good gods Jaskier it’s just me.”

“Well you deserve to be treated like a lady.”

“I’ve seen how you treat ladies,” you teased, your tone meaningful. In any other moment this joke would have been laughed off or met with a faux injured expression. But you were crouched low together, so close your bare knees were touching and you grew keenly aware that only a few inches of rope obscured each other’s bodes. As it was you were trying not to be too distracted by the muscular arms and broad shoulders the tunic he’d fashioned exposed. You didn’t know that he was trying very hard to be a gentleman and keep his eyes trained away from your legs as you sat, the quilt inched up higher to expose your thigh and if he craned his neck he knew he would see… things he would never see unless you explicitly showed him. So he just looked at your face which was frankly just as dangerous.

The bubbling of the pot pulled you both from your contemplation and you gently eased the sausages in while Jaskier sliced up the cheese he’d found. Before long the two of you were seated on the floor together (not trusting the rickety looking table and chairs), sharing a picnic of cheese cubes and sausages.

“Honestly this is better than most of the food I get in taverns,” Jaskier said, taking a bite of sausage. You smiled at him fondly and he smiled back, the same look of determined optimism on his face as before.

“You know, Jaskier, if I had to be stuck in a cabin in the middle of a blizzard, I’m glad it’s with you,” you said.

“You wouldn’t rather I be someplace safe and warm?” he teased.

“Absolutely not. If I’m going down I’m taking you with me,” you said, causing him to laugh, a sound more beautiful than any of his songs.

“Geralt would be more useful, probably,” Jaskier said.

“Geralt would be brooding in the corner. He wouldn’t be cooking me sausage or thinking of blanket togas or making me smile so I don’t go insane,” you argued emphatically, “You’re the perfect person. For me. In a snowstorm.”

Jaskier smiled down at his food a little sheepishly and you bit your lip nervously, worried you’d revealed too much or made him uncomfortable.

“Well,” he said, finally raising his eyes to meet yours, a twinkle in his eye, “I’ve never had such a delicious sausage. Well, never swallowed one so tasty. Well…”

You laughed at his unsubtle innuendo, throwing a piece of cheese at him that he caught in his mouth, giving you a wolfish smile as he chewed. When it was time to sleep you were worried about the awkward dance of whether or not you should sleep close together but thankfully Jaskier approached this dilemma with the same, casual practicality he had every other. He pulled a couple of unused blankets from the wardrobe, laying one on the dusty floor and climbing on top of it, patting the spot next to him. You crawled over, burrowing up tight against his chest as he wrapped the second blanket around the both of you, trying to tuck it in as tightly as possible.

“Comfy?” he asked, his voice muffled slightly by your hair.

“Yes, you?”

“Yes.”

“Jaskier?”

“Hmm?”

“What happens tomorrow?”

The question had been hovering in your mind all evening. You were usually the one to make those decisions but he had traveled much more than you had and you relished the opportunity to ask someone else to decide. You couldn’t have known how much Jaskier loved that you asked, loved taking the role of the person you could trust to lead you through this chaos. It scared and excited him in equal measure but he knew deep down that he would do whatever it took to keep you safe and that certainty was what kept his voice calm when he answered.

“Tomorrow we will see how high the snow has fallen. If we can get out, we do, but we don’t go too far lest we get lost again without any shelter. Yennefer will have told Geralt by now that we didn’t arrive and they will come for us. Until then, I will keep you safe even if I have to fight a bear or press every ounce of warmth in my body into yours to keep you alive.”

His words and tone were dramatic but you felt the truth in them. You felt safe and secure and so very grateful that you thought your heart might burst. You burrowed your head into the nape of his neck, the fine, dark hairs there brushing against your cheeks as you felt his pulse quicken in his throat.

“Jaskier?”

“Y/N?”

“Will you sing to me?”

His hands instinctively clenched you tighter and he smiled into the top of your head.

“Of course. Any specific requests?” he asked.

“Nothing sad,” you asked, yawning the word against his shoulder. “But nothing too bawdy either. Not that I don’t like them, I just don’t want to hurt you as I try to clap along.”

He chuckled and cleared his throat and began to sing, a low, soothing song. It could have been about anything or nothing at all, you lost track of the words as you listened to his voice and before long you were fast asleep though he kept singing until he fell asleep as well.

#Anonymous #jaskier x reader #jaskier imagines #fluff #reader request

[jaskiersvalley]

Omfg, I've read through just about all of your stories and they are incredible! You write with such a passion and every story just feels like it should be cannon between the characters! Especially Silver Tongue, Silver Hand and the Yennefer/Geralt/Jaskier add on, it just hit ALL the feels for me. Thank you for sharing 😁😍

Your words never cease to flatter me <3 Writing has become my life so I'm glad you enjoy it so much. I've got a little more in the way of feels for you but it's more Eskel flavoured.

The whole Lil Bleater thing had started out as a joke well before Lambert's time. He'd heard about it from the others. It became a bit of a tradition to keep an eye on the path at the start of each winter to see the burly Witcher with a goat on a tether. It was always a white goat with brown markings and everyone treated it like it's the same goat that has spent over a decade by Eskel's side. To Lambert there was a certain amount of comfort in seeing Eskel and his goat coming up the path. For all the uncertainty of their lives, that sight was a constant. So even when he became a Witcher, Lambert was one of the first to get back, just to see Eskel and his goat return.

There was no time to watch for Eskel the year of the sacking. Lambert had returned to a smouldering ruin and a few bewildered Witchers who were trying to make sense of what had happened. All hands on deck to try and salvage what remained of Kaer Morhen and to honour the remains of the dead they found, Lambert couldn't linger by the parapets to watch. Too much work and not enough people made it impossible. He was almost glad he wasn't there when Eskel ambled in, that he didn't have to see the way his face fell and took in the devastation around them. But that dinner Lambert sat next to him, shoulders pressed together.

It took a couple of years to get Kaer Morhen back into the shape of something habitable. Most of the keep was out of bounds but the courtyard, the great hall, the kitchens and a few rooms were salvageable. Not that there were many of them left who wanted rooms. Each year fewer and fewer Wolves came back until it was just Vesemir, Geralt, Eskel and Lambert. Plus Lil Bleater. She was there every single year, frolicking around and causing mayhem. Lambert had no idea how Eskel did it, always finding a goat that was as much of a menace as it was a delight.

"What's your trick?" he had asked one evening while they were giving the stables a thorough clean. Lil Bleater as getting her nose into everything, from trying to drink from the filthy bucket to stealing Lambert's brush.

"I ask her nicely." Which was timed perfectly with Lil Bleater backing up to charge at the straw bale that Eskel had been trying to spread out in a stall. It drew a tired "Bleats, please!" from Eskel which went merrily ignored. Lambert didn't even bother trying to hide his snicker.

It was always nice when it was the same goat two years running. There had been one time Eskel had the same goat for three winters and that one had been the goat to end up on its back, carried around like a baby. Vesemir grumbled when Lambert had given the goat a bonnet but otherwise left them to their own devices.

The year Eskel got home with barely healing wounds down his face had been hard. That time Lil Bleater was a quiet goat, much more likely to demand cuddles than get up to mischief and Lambert had never been more grateful. He hadn't been able to get through to Eskel, nobody had. But the stupid goat did what none of them could and offered companionship. Never before had Lambert felt he was indebted to a goat.

Not every year was sunshine and roses. The year Lil Bleater got into the alchemy ingredients was a dark one. But she was a Witcher's goat so got a suitable send-off on a pyre. By the time Eskel returned with her successor the following year, the door had a new lock on it, high up and it definitely needed opposable thumbs to open it.

Worst though was when Eskel was running late. He should have been there a week ago by Lambert's calculations. He kept an eye on the path to Kaer Morhen and watched as a lone figure approached. No horse, no goat, no pack, nothing. And emaciated Eskel stumbled home.

"No Bleats?" Lambert asked rather than interrogate Eskel on just what happened. He wished he hadn't enquired though, not when Eskel's face twisted into something pained and a hand rubbed over his stomach.

"I was desperate."

Understanding didn't make it any easier and Lambert simply nodded. He what he could of his to Eskel, spare shirts, potion bottles, boots, anything a Witcher might need on his travels. Winter just wasn't the same though. It wasn't just the fact that Eskel was withdrawn and silent, eerily still when hugged. Something was missing, that spark of life that Kaer Morhen cradled each winter was gone.

There was nothing for it, Lambert knew what he had to do. As soon as the weather permitted he was out the door and headed into the wilderness. Within the hour he spotted what he'd been looking for, a herd of wild goats. As soon as they spotted him they were scattering and catching one was nigh on impossible. The couple of white ones with brown spots bounded off into the undergrowth and only a pure black one watched him with disdain from a distance. It was going to have to do, Lambert didn't have the time or the patience to hunt down and capture another one. When he hunted, he never did it with the intent of zero injury for his prey. Slowly, he approached the goat and cast axii as soon as it was within range.

"Stay," he ordered and the goat stayed. Getting a leash on it was quick work and Lambert remembered what Eskel had said to him all those years ago. On a whim he added, "Be nice for Eskel."

The goat trotted along, occasionally nibbling at the leash if Lambert wasn't walking at a decent speed. They managed to get back to Kaer Morhen and marched into the kitchen.

"What have you got there?" Vesemir asked, staring at the black goat whose tail wiggled at the attention. At the table Eskel stared at them with a blank expression.

Marching over, Lambert thrust the end of the leash at Eskel.

"Lil Bleater."

For the first time that winter, Eskel's lips flickered into the ghost of a smile. He took the leash and held out a hand at the black goat.

"Hello there. I've missed you."

Stepping back, Lambert watched and barely flinched when a hand squeezed his shoulder.

"You did good," Vesemir murmured. "Thank you."

#lambskel #lambert/eskel #lambert #eskel #lil bleater #the witcher #tldr: lil bleater through the decades

[wromwood]

Top 5 of 2020

Rules: it’s time to love yourselves! choose your 5 (ish) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!  

Tagged by @penny-anna. Thanks, friend!

.... well, I made so few things that weren’t Softboy Pillowman that this is just. ALL gonna be Softboy Pillowman. Here are the hits, folks.

1. Hello, everyone!: I’m gonna be basic and say that my favorite work of this year is the one that started it all on my Softboy Pillowman blog. This Leap Day post began my longest-running project ever, one that I hope will continue in different ways in the future. This comic may be short and simple, but its creation was filled with nerves and excitement.

2. Among Us: Now this one is definitely a favorite of mine. Even though a lot of the artwork for this involved tracing Among Us models and backgrounds, I still pat myself on the back for how good it all turned out. It was really fun to draw in a different style, with stuff like shading and text, and I got to make content that involves a game that I really like to play. Overall, this was just super fun.

3. Pillowman of the Opera: Partly, this is me being proud of accomplishing a decent version of the Phantom’s misty underground layer, complete with floating candles. Partly, this is me cracking up over how seriously I drew Softboy taking his role. (Just look at his little FACE)

4. Chrisville’s Don Giovanni: I can’t help but have a soft spot for this one. Don Giovanni is my favorite opera, and I have very few opportunities to reference or talk about it. I love giving Chris all my little niche interests, not only because it lets me express them through my work, but also because it reflects how I was like at his age. (I didn’t like Don Giovanni yet at age 8, but I did have a lot of interests that my peers at the time just weren’t into) If Softboy Pillowman ever became a cartoon, I would have a special where we put on a kid-friendly version of Don Giovanni, all in Italian, and NO ONE WOULD STOP ME. Also, I gotta give props to the first appearance of Chris’s parents, and how proud I am that Chris’s dad mostly looks like how he does in my head.

5. EVERYBODY CLAP YOUR HANDS: I was looking forward to making this comic, mostly because a friend of mine really liked it when it was still in its doodle stages. Watching Softboy perform the only part of the Cha Cha slide that I can remember still makes me laugh even now. (Also, bonus happiness for referencing something that actually happened during my time in a Gilbert and Sullivan society.)

HONORABLE MENTION:

Softboy Jaskier: Just look at him. LOOK AT HIM. Honestly, I love imagining Softboy doing Jaskier things, like playing the lute and wearing his wonderful outfits. (Even though he wouldn’t do the main Jaskier thing, which is sleep around with lots of people. He’d just give ‘em cuddles and kisses.) For some reason, I’ve had a small desire to draw him singing a fittingly heartbroken rendition of “Her Sweet Kiss”, but that would involve something bad happening between him and Leo (who would be Geralt), and I don’t want that.

Let’s see, who to tag.... to be totally honest, a lot of my artist friends have already been tagged in this. So do this if you want to!

#My Work #Softboy Pillowman #tag games

[jaimelover]

Her sweet lips II Jaskier

You have just lost your parents. It was a monster's fault. The werewolf. He killed almost all the village, but you couldn’t do anything. That was horrible. Fortunately, not long after that situation and before a next attack the witcher came to your village. However, he was not alone. With him was a bard. You saw them the first time when a man with white hair crossed your home. The witcher was looking for some kind of indications to find a werewolf. “Ah, come on, Geralt! There will not be anything!” Man with short, brown hair went to your home too. “Shut up” The witcher murmured and asked you about a monster, which killed your family. “It... it was so awful a-and...” Your eyes were full of tears. The witcher was confused and did not what to have to do. “My God, what happened? Don’t cry, you’re too beautiful for crying” A bard went in your direction. You tried not to start sob. And thanks to his cute smile, you smiled a little too. “Everything will be OK. You’ll see. I’m Jaskier. And this is Gerald, The witcher from Rivia.” “I am Y/N.” “What’s an amazing and cute name! I love it! If I would have at some point in time a daughter that would be an amazing name for her. And my son I would be called Gerald Junior.” “Stupid idea” Gerald murmured and focused on your parents stuff. “Um... Thanks.” “You’re welcome, Honey”. He had brown eyes. You were looking at them for a while, when you realised, that Jaskier was watching you. You looked away and talked with Geralt. You thanked and they went out from your house. All the evening you were thinking about a man with brown, full of stars eyes. * After a few days, The witcher and a Bard came back to your village. They said that the monster is dead and you and other people can sleep in peace. “What can I do for you more? Maybe you want to eat something or...” “Thank you, girl, but no.” “Talk for yourself! It would be a pleasure” Said Jaskier. You smiled at him a little and went to your home. Inside you prepared a support with honey and meat. Jaskier was delighted and eating everything that you gave him. You asked a lot of questions about his adventures and he answered with passion. “Thank you very much for a meal” Jaskier took your hand and kiss. You smiled and blushed. He looked at your eye for a while and came closer. It was a big surprise when he kissed you. But it was a very gentle kiss. After a while, he step aside. “Your lips are so sweet. I love it” You could not answer, because he kissed you again. You backed it and sat slowly on a sofa. Jaskier followed you and deepened a kiss. Your tongue meet with his when it came to inside your mouth. You never step aside. Slowly his lips wondered on your cheeks and next on the neck. Jaskier gave you wet kisses. You were murmuring all the time, but when he a little bitten your skin you moaned. Your neck was covered with red marks when Jaskier decided to take off your shirt and after that a bra. You were embarrassed when Jaskier kissed your breasts. You lied on the sofa and looked at him. His lips wandered down during taking off your trousers and pants. You were naked in front of almost a stranger. Your thoughts disappeared when something wet touched your cunt. You whispered and took a look at Jaskier. He was focused on his tongue on your wet spots. He was licking and sucking every sensitive spot. You moaned all the time when Jaskier’s tongue went to your inside. He murmured and closed his eyes focused on your taste. He looked like he had a better pleasure from this than you. His tongue with every secounds moved faster and harder and after a while, you almost came. Jaskier knew it and before cum, he step aside. Your breath was very fast and uncontrollably. Jaskier kissed your lips again, so you can feel your taste on his lips. You murmured and helped him to take off his clothes. A small moan went from your lips when his dick slowly penetrated you. You could think just that he was big. He slowly moved but dick hit every sensitive spot, which tongue could not touch. When you both almost cum his moved were faster than ever before. You lips moaned when you came on his dick. After a while his cum went to your inside and you felt his hot breath on your neck. He lied on you carefully and cuddle up in your breasts. “You have so sweeeeeet lips, Y/N/ I want to taste you all the time.” he murmured with a smile on his face. “And I want to fell your lips on my, Jaskier.”

#the witcher #witcher geralt #the witcher netflix #witcher #geralt x jaskier #toss a coin to your witcher #jaskierxreader #jaskier #Smut #jaskier smut

[witcher-and-his-bard-archive]

Good as Gold pt. 14

[part thirteen] |  [part fifteen] [prostitute!jaskier masterpost]

cw: mention of child death

You won't save everyone. He remembers the words clearly, spoken with certainty, finality. He remembers Vesemir saying them first, then Eskel. Even Lambert on the odd occasion they took a job together. Geralt knows the words well, but they provide no solace when someone doesn't make it out. They don't prepare him for the backlash when that person is a child.

Geralt had barely made it out of the village unharmed, blamed for the death of the miller's son, despite risking his life to bring the boy's body back to his family. He had taken down the cockatrice he'd been contracted for, unaware of the second one lurking in the forest until it was too late. The boy had wandered too close, curious about the new man in town - and Geralt had been too slow. Despite his best efforts, the second cockatrice had gotten away with the child and by the time he'd retrieved the boy's body, Geralt had been too exhausted, too injured to take on the second beast.

Not that he'd gotten any thanks. Upon his return, his payment had been withheld and the villagers had made it clear that he was no longer welcome - some even going as far as to follow him out of town. Which, all things considered, is one of the better ways he's been kicked out of town. But it doesn't ease the guilt that crashes over him in waves and it doesn't change the fact that he'll be sleeping outside tonight.

He’d left without a fuss, leading Roach to the edge of town before hoisting himself up into the saddle and turning her onto the main road. Now he's halfway to Hagge because he doesn't know where else to turn and the prospect of spending the night alone thinking about that boy is overwhelming. Halfway there, it starts to rain and Geralt isn't even surprised at the turn of the weather. Just his luck.

He's soaked through to the skin by the time he arrives and his coin purse seems lighter than he remembers as he contemplates spending the night with Jaskier. It's a bad idea, especially after losing out on the pay for his last contract, but there's something in him that aches for companionship, for the soft patience Jaskier has with him that so few others seem to share.

He doesn't actively make a choice one way or the other before he finds himself walking down the hall to Jaskier's room. The door is open but he knocks on the frame anyway, peeking around to see if he can spot him. Footsteps approach from behind and he turns to find Jaskier coming toward him, the frown on his face only increasing with proximity.

"Geralt, you're soaked," he says and Geralt flinches, waiting to be berated for making the floor dirty or something, but Jaskier just presses a hand to his back and leads him into the room. He's holding a mug in one hand which he hands to Geralt once they're inside, turning back to shut the door.

"It's just tea," he says, "but you look like you could use it more than me. Where are you coming from?" Geralt grunts as Jaskier unhooks the buckles on his armour with ease.

"Doesn't matter."

"Okay," Jaskier says slowly. He comes around to Geralt's front, lifting the chest piece over his head. "Everything alright Geralt?"

"Fine."

Jaskier sighs but keeps quiet after that, ridding Geralt of the rest of his armour, then his clothes after. It's been some time since Geralt has worried about Jaskier seeing his body, his scars, but standing naked in the middle of the room feels uncomfortable tonight in a way it hasn't before. He stands awkwardly, not quite sure what to do with himself as Jaskier hangs his wet clothes to dry.

Once he's finished with the task, Jaskier comes up to him, taking Geralt's hands in his.

"Why don't you go lie on the bed?" he suggests, "tell me what you want." His hands are warm, Geralt focuses on that.

"I didn't come for anything like that." Undeterred, Jaskier smiles up at him.

"Then what can I do for you?"

"You're not my servant, Jaskier," he says quietly. Then, considering what it is he does want, "I just wanted some company." He lifts his eyes just high enough to see Jaskier's and he can pinpoint the moment the words he doesn't say hit him. He looks devastated and immediately, he steps forward, pulling Geralt into his arms and bunding him up close to his chest.

Jaskier says nothing but he holds him close and Geralt surrenders. He lets himself be held, shuts his eyes and rests his head on Jaskier's shoulder. Hands are on his back and in his hair, holding him steady, grounding him to the here and now; to this room where he's welcome and safe and maybe even wanted.

He doesn't know how long they just stand there like that, but Jaskier is shaking when he finally pulls away.

"What did they do this time?"

"Nothing you need to worry about."

"Bullshit." Jaskier seethes and Geralt doesn't know how else to fix it, so he tells him.

"A child died," he says, "they forced me out of town, refused to pay."

"Blamed you," Jaskier guesses and Geralt nods. "Bastards! I hate the way they treat you." Geralt shakes his head slowly.

"They were upset, Jaskier. They lost a child, they had no one else to blame."

"What about the thing that killed it! That's no excuse not paying you, for running you out of town - injured and in the rain! And maybe if it was a one-off, but it's not is it? How many times do people find the lamest excuse not to pay you? To be rid of you as soon as they can? How many times do you come to me with stories of people who spit at you in the streets-"

Geralt reaches out to him, sliding a hand against the side of his neck. "Relax, Jaskier. Don't get so worked up over them, they're not important."

"Fuck," Jaskier mutters, dropping his chin then tipping it back up to look at Geralt. He reaches up, brushing his fingers along his cheekbone. "I'm sorry. You came here to relax and here I am- come to bed, darling, stay the night." He leads Geralt to the bed, ensuring that he's settled before wandering off somewhere.

Geralt doesn't follow, doesn't pry. He knows how it feels to be so full of rage on behalf of someone else; he's seen his brothers stoned and shot at, chased out of town more times than he can count and the fury never fades. He doesn't understand why Jaskier is so upset about it, but he understands the feeling well enough.

When Jaskier returns, he curls up next to Geralt, brushing a tentative hand down his side. "Are you still awake?" he asks and Geralt shifts, pressing back against him.

"I am now."

"Oh. Sorry."

Truthfully, Geralt is exhausted - probably the only reason he fell asleep in such a short span of time - but Jaskier's breath is warm and comforting against his neck and if he's going to be woken up, he doesn't really mind being woken like this. The memory of the day is still fresh in his mind, but he focuses on the brush of Jaskier's fingers, the press of his chest as he closes the space between them.

"Geralt?" he asks and Geralt hums his acknowledgement. "Why do you do it? Why do you risk your life for people who don't appreciate you?" He cuddles closer, curling his arm around Geralt's middle and that’s when Geralt smells it - the salty tang of tears.

Everything in him aches to turn and pull Jaskier into his arms, to find out what hurt him and destroy it. But his affections would likely be mistaken for lust, so he just presses back against him, offering what comfort he can manage.

"What else can I do?" he asks, "I'm a monster, who would have me?" Jaskier huffs a bitter laugh and presses his face into Geralt's neck. The scent of salt in the air increases.

"What do I do?" Jaskier asks, "just wait for the day when you don't come back? When you take on a contract that's too much for you or the villagers decide actually, they've had enough of Witchers? And I'm just sitting here, waiting for you to come back - only you never will?" He chokes on his words and Geralt moves without thinking, rolling to face him and wrapping his arms around Jaskier.

He's thought about it, too. Because one day he will lose and there will be no one to tell the few people who linger in his life. His brothers will understand when he doesn't return to Kaer Morhen. Vesemir will understand. Anyone else who cares enough will hear it from them. But no one knows about Jaskier, no one would think to tell him even if they did. To them, Jaskier would just be another whore from a nameless city and Geralt's chest tightens at the thought. He shuts his eyes, so caught up in the moment that he forgets for a moment that Jaskier asked him a question.

"I don't know," he says. "Word would travel, eventually. Though I suppose it would depend on where it happened. If I died in Cintra, you would probably never know." Jaskier shudders against him.

"I hate not knowing. I hate the way they treat you. I hate knowing you're out there somewhere fighting something that would make a knight flee in terror. And this is all you get for it? Blame for a child's death?"

"It's just the way things are for us-"

"That's bullshit, Geralt. You were made. They took you and turned you into this and never gave you a choice and you're just expected to be okay with it?" He's looking up at him now, eyes blue and watery and Geralt can't stand it. He huffs a humourless laugh.

"You sound like my brother."

"Well, at least one of you realizes how brutally unfair this all is."

"I've never known anything different, Jaskier. I barely remember the days before I was taken to Kaer Morhen."

"It still isn't fair. You deserve love like anyone else - more maybe considering what you do to keep people safe every day. You deserve somewhere safe at the end of the day, somewhere and someone you can return to who will take care of you."

Distantly, Geralt thinks that this - having a soft body pressed against his own, having Jaskier pressed against him - makes it worthwhile. At least most of the time. There are days when he feels hopeless when he submits to the emotions he's not supposed to feel, but having one person to turn to makes it better. He doesn't know how to express that, how to tell Jaskier that he is the one who eases his suffering, so he ducks his head, pressing their foreheads together and shuts his eyes.

He's not sure how they got here, how he somehow feels like he's the one doing the comforting now, but it doesn't matter. The child, the hunt, the village are at the back of his mind now, replaced with a need to reassure Jaskier that he's fine. He knows it's futile, has had countless similar conversations with Lambert about the inevitability of a Witcher's life. But he hates seeing Jaskier worked up like this, has never witnessed someone cry on his behalf and he doesn't know what to do with it all. If he can just convince him that this is normal, that he doesn't need to worry about him because he'll be fine and if he's not, well, that's inevitable. But when he pulls back to look at him again, all he sees in Jaskier's eyes is sorrow and helplessness and something clicks for him.

"Is that why you want to come with me?" he asks. Jaskier exhales, shrugs. "There's nothing you could do that would stop them, Jaskier. It would be like telling a horse not to neigh. It's the way they've been raised."

"Then I could be the one to take care of you," Jaskier snaps and for a moment everything in the room is still other than the frantic thudding of Jaskier's heart. His words are so sharp that Geralt nearly misses their meaning, but it registers after a moment and he frowns in confusion.

Why anyone would want to join him on the Path for the sole purpose of picking him up after a bad contract, he can't know. But it seems to be what Jaskier is suggesting.

"Jaskier, I couldn't. No one is safe with me. This is proof of that."

Jaskier sighs and Geralt can feel the fight leave him. "I know, darling. It's just a dream, nothing more. But I wish there was something I could do to make them see who you really are." Geralt quirks an eyebrow at him and Jaskier smiles sadly. He runs a hand down Geralt's arm, tracing soft lines across his forearm. "You're a lovely, wonderful man, Geralt. They don't deserve what you do for them. I only wish they could see you the way I do."

Geralt wants to ask what he means, but Jaskier shifts, wiggling so he can pull Geralt close again, press his nose against his. Like this, Geralt can feel his breath against his lips and all thoughts of their prior conversation leave him. He focuses on the soft puffs of breath, how if he tipped his head up just so, he could kiss him; if there was ever a time for it, it's tonight, but it still feels wrong. He shifts to press a knee between Jaskier's, arms wound around his waist and Jaskier squeezes him tighter.

"Let's not think about it anymore," Jaskier whispers, "they don't deserve our time and they've already taken enough of yours." He presses Geralt's head against his chest and runs his fingers through his hair, humming softly.

Geralt listens to the sound of his heartbeat, the hum of his voice and he breathes in Jaskier's scent. It's worrying how something so simple can calm him and he thinks about what Jaskier said to him instead.

"Why are you always so kind to me?"

"Because everyone deserves love, my darling, and I've learned the people who need it most are usually the ones who ask for it the least."

Geralt shuts his eyes and doesn't ask any further questions, but he thinks about that for a very long time.

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #the witcher #good as gold #prostitute!jaskier #rex writes