#it starts with giving jaskier food

[cailenbraern]

Not sure if I can fully articulate my thoughts about Jaskier’s growth as an artist throughout the seasons of The Witcher but I'm going to give it a go.

Because when we meet him in season 1 , he's more or less just starting out. He's fresh from Oxenfurt and determined to make a name for himself on the continent. The trouble is, he's got nothing to draw on. He's still young so his experience is negligible. He performs songs about monsters and creatures with little accuracy or meaning, and we meet him being jeered and pelted with food.

Meeting Geralt gives him a new inspiration for original songs, although he's not truthful, particularly in Toss a Coin. As Geralt said, that's not what happened, and Jaskier responds with respect doesn't make history. He's still too young and too inexperienced to realise what impact his songs can have, and he's solely determined to improve the reputations of Witchers along with his own reputation.

The two other songs in season 1 are Fishmongers Daughter, which I'm not going to discuss in any detail, and Her Sweet Kiss. Now one cane argue that the latter is heavily drawn from personal emotion and feeling, but the end result is a fairly normal ballad style of song with poetry as lyrics and vivid imagery and metaphors. It's a start, but Jaskier still has a long way to go.

Then we get to season 2, where we find Jaskier in the early stages of recognition. We see him performing in a packed bar, with accompaniment, and the crowd are lapping it up. It helps that the song he's singing comes, as per his own words, from the heart. Burn Butcher, Burn is 100% emotion, 100% authentic, and gone is the poetry. The lyrics are raw and passionate.

Despite this, we're led to believe that he found his fame with The Golden One. In contrast with BBB, this song lacks any emotional punch. It's purely a story or anecdote set to music. A fun little ditty, but unless you can suspend your disbelief, if open to criticism. As happens when attempting to smuggle the Elves onto the ship.

Now, we know that at this point, Jaskier has done and seen and experienced far more things than he had in season 1, and this has left an impact on him. He has matured and developed his sense of empathy and his kindness so much more than the immature travelling bard showed in Posada, thanks tp witnessing the violence and persecution of the elves, while also dealing with his own broken heart. Yet he's still clinging on to his want and desire to be respected and applauded for his skill and talent in writing and singing songs, so we see that he does not take criticism well.

More happens in season 2 to shape and form him, Rience's torture for one, the massacre at Kaer Morhen, his friendship with Yennefer and his mending (such as it is) of his friendship with Geralt along with the continuing politics all across the continent.

I do have a soft spot for Whoreson Prison Blues. The first two verses are beautiful, followed by a very crude, very catchy chorus. I can't imagine he would include it in future sets, but it's so personal to him in that moment that I love it.

Little wonder that by Season Three, we are met with yet more changes in our bard. His words to Radovid stating that he doesn't 'do pretty' suggest to me that he has consciously decided to move away from filling his songs with poetry and imagery and is focused more on honesty and truth. Extraordinary Things which immediately follows is a perfect demonstration of Jaskier singing openly and from the heart.

But what I wanted to get to in this long winded post, is that this is the season we finally see the Emotional Impact Jaskier's songs have on other people. No criticisms, no jokes, just the power of his music.

Whatever your opinion on Radovid and his motivations, Extraordinary Things affected him. You can see this in his reaction as he hears it for the first time, and he so clearly can't get it out of his head after hearing it only one time, that he goes above and beyond to learn it.

Next is Ciri, and we see Jaskier singing a lullaby (which he may or may not have written himself, jury's out on that) to her. Later, in the desert, she sings the lullaby back to herself, drawing strength and courage from it. This power has been given by Jaskier through his singing, making her feel safe and loved in a vulnerable moment.

Finally, Eternal Flowers, which I'll say here, is the best I've ever heard Joey sing, both on the album version and in the live performance on the show. He has his lute, but he lays it down like laying down a weapon. It's just him, stripped bare, open, vulnerable, honest, true. This is not his song, but he feels the emotion and the message as thought it was. His empathy is shining. It moves him to tears, but not only him, the Dryads also feel the emotion he is channelling, and it moves them to tears.

I don't have much of a conclusion to this ramble, but TL;DR, Jaskier’s songwriting and art has evolved over the three seasons and his bardic power is a might force to be reckoned with. He will be remembered long after Valdo for his honesty and beauty.

Not pretty. Real.

#jaskier #the witcher #spoilers #season 3 #twn spoilers #twn season 3 #joey batey #i cant articulate

[ghostinthelibrarywrites]

Number 9: pressing face against other's neck to hide from the world + the number that's a tender kiss to the crown of someone's head.

Pairing: Eskel x Jaskier.

Thank you and pretty please ❤️

“I’m fine!” Jaskier says as Geralt and Eskel deposit him on the grimy little straw mattress that this inn considers a bed. “Really, I appreciate the three of you rushing gallantly to my rescue, but I had the situation well in hand.”

“Bardling, you just spent a week in a dungeon.” Yennefer looks unimpressed.

“A very nice dungeon,” Jaskier says. “It had a chamberpot! You don’t get amenities like that in most Northern dungeons. I need to get arrested in Nilfgaard more often.”

“No,” Geralt, Yennefer, and Eskel say at the same time.

“Are you hurt?” Eskel looks him over, a frown creasing his brow.

“A few bumps and bruises.” With a wince, Jaskier touches his bruised stomach. One of the soldiers who arrested him had a kick like a mule. “But compared to the last time I found myself arrested, it was a dream. The guards actually liked my singing!”

“Well, Nilfgaard is a notoriously uncultured country,” Yennefer says.

“Missed you too, you dreadful witch.”

Geralt gives her a tired look. “Yenn and I are going to go check on Ciri. Can you stop him from getting into trouble for an hour, Esk?”

“I’ll do my best.” Eskel nods gravely.

“Don’t worry, I don’t plan on leaving this bed anytime soon!” Jaskier calls after them. As the door closes behind them, he turns to Eskel. “Have they worked things out, then? They seem far chummier than when we all left Kaer Morhen. I hope so. Please don’t tell her I said this, but I’ve grown quite fond of Yennefer.”

Eskel watches him with worried golden eyes. “You sure you’re okay, songbird?”

Under that familiar gaze, Jaskier can feel his facade start to crack. With effort, he keeps his bright smile on his face. “Really, I’m fine. I knew you’d find me eventually.”

Except, he hadn’t, because he thought that Geralt and Yennefer were hiding in some remote corner of the Continent with Ciri and that Eskel was walking the Path. He hadn’t expected any of them to know that something had happened to him until it was far too late.

“And there was no torture.” Jaskier wiggles his uninjured fingers to demonstrate. “No burning, no beating, no breaking of fingers. Everyone was quite civil, actually.”

They’d been waiting for someone to come to interrogate Jaskier. Whether it was the fire fucker or some other sadistic bastard, Jaskier thankfully never learned. The waiting had almost been worse than pain.

“And the food was actually quite good.” Jaskier is starting to hear the strain in his own voice. “Have you ever had olives, Eskel? I was skeptical at first, but I’ll admit, they grew on—”

Eskel closes the distance between them in two strides and sinks down onto the mattress next to Jaskier, pulling him into his arms.

Half-heartedly, Jaskier tries to push him away. “Love, I probably reek. I just spent a week in a dungeon.”

“You don’t smell any worse than this damn mattress.” Eskel’s voice is a familiar, soothing rumble.

“The sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.” Jaskier laughs weakly and tucks his face into the curve of his lover’s throat. He smells like leather and horse and the slow, steady beat of his pulse is wonderfully familiar. Burrowing closer, Jaskier tries to block out the memory of the past week—the fear, the uncertainty, and the crushing loneliness.

“I didn’t think I was going to make it out this time,” he murmurs into Eskel’s skin. “I didn’t think anyone would know to look for me. I figured you wouldn’t know I was gone until the winter.”

“Yennefer heard a rumor and she and Geralt came to get me.”

Jaskier huffs a laugh. “Gods, does this mean I owe Yennefer my life again? Bring me back to the dungeon, Eskel, I can’t bear it.”

Eskel brushes a feather-light kiss across Jaskier’s forehead. “No.”

Jaskier tightens his grip on the front of Eskel’s shirt. “Horrible man.”

Eskel kisses him again, pressing his lips against Jaskier’s temple. “I told you when we left Kaer Morhen, if you needed me, I’d find you.”

Jaskier feels a lump rising in his throat and swallows it back. “That’s the second sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.” He starts laughing at his own joke, the sound odd and ragged.

Eskel kisses the shell of his ear. “You’re okay, songbird. I’ve got you.”

The laughter dies in Jaskier's throat and he closes his eyes, cuddling closer to Eskel, and lets himself think of nothing but strong arms around him and the familiar heartbeat under his cheek. That dark, dank dungeon with no company but the sound of his own singing is far away. Eskel is here and Jaskier is okay.

24 Touches Prompts

Tag list: @kueble @mollymawkwrites @feral-jaskier @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde @dawnofbards @thisislisa @tsukiwolf42 @mosaicscale @rockysstupidity @fontegagrilledcheese @kuripon @help-i-need-a-cool-username @julek @flowercrown-bard @eveljerome

#the witcher #twn #jaskel #eskel x jaskier #ghost's writing #prompt fills

[starfirewildheart]

Chapter 11

Geralt looked out the window at the still falling snow in the presunrise hours. The colors seemed more beautiful today than he ever remembered. He heard Naurel start to move and went to her. Sitting beside her on the bed he leaned in for a soft kiss. “How do you feel?” The new lovers had spent the rest of the day and the entire night in his room exploring each other.

She stretched and smiled up at him, eyes still sleepy. “Wonderful.”

“Not sore? I didn’t hurt you did I?” His strength always concerned him when touching humans but especially with her because he’d lost himself in the pleasure a few times.

“Sore in some places but nothing bad.” Running her hand over his arm, “Stop worrying love. You didn’t hurt me, I promise.” He relaxed a bit and she sat up pressing another kiss to his mouth. “Are you ok? You’re up early.”

“Aye, perfect,” he smiled. “As much as I would love to stay up here for a month you need food and water to replenish and we should give your body some time to rest.”

She pouted at him but the grumbling in her stomach made her realize he was right, as usual. “Fine, if we have to.” She got up and started getting dressed still blushing softly as he watched her.

Down in the dining hall, a few of the witchers were already having their breakfast when they arrived. Geralt got their food and led her to a table where Ciri, Coen, Jaskier, and Lambert set. Once they were seated she suddenly became nervous. They, well she, hadn’t been very quiet last night. What If they heard her? Geralt placed his hand on her thigh having picked up on her increased heart rate and she wrapped her own arm around his bigger one almost hugging it to her. She picked at her porridge, thankful when a conversation started.

“What’s the training agenda for today?” Geralt asked Ciri.

“Lambert said something about a training platform for witchers,” she answered proudly.

Lambert had the good sense to sort of cringe knowing that Geralt would likely not approve. “I just thought it would be a good way to learn some defense. If you think it’s a bad idea we can do something else.”

Ciri’s huff didn’t go unnoticed but Geralt acted like he didn’t hear her. “She’s chosen you and Coen to do her training. I won’t get in the way of that. Naurel and I will be practicing today.” He looked down the table at Ciri, “Please be careful. The course is made for a witcher who’s more advanced in their training. When they fall and break a limb or split their skull we can put them in the laboratory and give them elixirs to heal them. You do not have that ability.”

“Gonna practice with the straw people again?” Lambert teased Naurel.

“Probably,” she nodded. “I’m sure it’s sort of like practicing with you though, the straw just doesn't talk back and crack stupid jokes.”

Coen spits his water across the table laughing. “Good one!”

Naurel reached over and shook his hand with a huge grin on her face. “Thank you.” Having started to relax a bit more she loosened the death grip she had no Geralt’s arm some and started eating. “What are you doing up so early Jaskier? You usually sleep till midday.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” he eyed her.

“Oh no, are you still hurting?” she asked, concerned for her friend.

“A bit but that’s not why I couldn’t sleep.”

“The cold?” Geralt asked as he took a bite of bread.

“My room is next to yours and you,” he looked at Naurel, “Are not quiet my dear. And you,” he pointed at Geralt, “How do you go so long?!” Ciri started giggling and the other witchers joined in teasing them and moaning mockingly.

Naurel’s face flamed red as she buried her face against Geralt’s shoulder. Geralt however just laughed good-naturedly at their friends. He’d intended for them to all know that she belonged to him. Last night left no doubt. After a few minutes of teasing Vesemir and Eskel came in. He’d heard them teasing the pair and was laughing too. “Enough,” he rumbled. “You’re just jealous because your brother is making those noises with his girl and not by himself.”

Geralt gave a grateful look to the old witcher before lifting Naurel’s head off his shoulder and kissing her softly. It wasn’t lost on him the Eskel went to an empty table and didn’t join them. She finally spoke again to ask Vesemir a question. “What is the cooking schedule here?”

“Each person takes a day cooking all three meals,” he told her.

“I would like a turn if that’s agreeable. I feel like I need to be contributing in some way.”

“Yes! Of course! Please! It has to be better than Lambert’s” Came several replies from all the witchers. She laughed.

“You don’t have to but If you want to, it would be most welcome,” Vesemir told her.

“I’d love to,” she beamed. “Someone let me know when it’s my turn.”

“Tomorrow,” they all said in unison. She laughed and continued talking before heading out to work on her sword training.

 

It was getting late in the afternoon when Geralt saw Lambert and Coen approaching with a bloody, frustrated Ciri in tow. They all sat near him watching Naurel hit the straw dummy. He looked over at Ciri, “Going to survive?”

“I’ll get it tomorrow,” she frowned as she rolled her shoulder. Stupid human body and its human limitations.

“You beat the strawman yet?” Lambert teased Naurel.

“Why don’t you spar with her and find out?” Geralt suggested.

Naurel and Lambert said “Huh?” at the same time.

“Spar with her, not you?” Lambert verified.

“Yes, I will coach her, nothing more,” Geralt nodded.

“Come on little girl,” Lambert said excitedly, grabbing his sword.

Naurel was looking at Geralt like he had grown another head as he approached her. “He’s going to kill me!” she whispered.

“Do you trust me?”

“Do you have to ask?”

“Start out with the blocking moves I showed you. When I want you to switch to offensive strikes I will call them out.” He kissed her head, “You can do this.”

“Yea,” she shook her head no at the same time causing him to chuckle. “Just remember if he kills me we can not do a repeat of last night witcher.” All of them laughed, damn witcher hearing.

Naurel did everything exactly how Geralt had shown her and made her practice on the dummy a thousand times and to her surprise, she managed to block all of his attacks. He’d been easy at first but by the end, there was some force behind his blows. “Strikes,” Geralt called out. “Keep your form, your arms are dropping.”

“Fuck you,” Eskel roared and launched an attack.

Geralt shoved Naurel to the ground away from them so that she wasn’t hit. Both men landed punches and kicks hard enough to draw blood instantly. Witchers fighting was scary to watch especially when you were in love with one of them. She felt the tears spilling down her face as Ciri ran to her and helped her to her feet.

The other witchers finally got the two separated after several attempts. Coen noticed that Eskel’s eyes were black indicating he’d taken an elixer before coming outside. He’d planned this attack. Distracted by his thoughts Eskel was able to shake free and storm Geralt again whose arms were still being restrained. No one had time to react as Eskel kicked Geralt as hard as he could between the legs with his elixir enhanced strength. Everyone let Geralt go and tackled Eskel to the ground. Geralt fell forward, curled over unable to catch his breath, and finally threw up in the snow.

Naurel and Ciri ran to him trying to help him however they could. Naurel grabbed a handful of clean snow and wiped his face and neck until he was able to catch his breath. She had to balance herself when he leaned all his weight on her pressing her face against her neck. “Shhh, love try to breathe,” she encouraged rubbing his back.

At this point, Vesemir had come out and ordered them to take Eskel to the dining hall before kneeling beside Geralt. “Wolf,” he placed his hand on his back feeling how hard he was still trembling. “We need to get you inside so I can tend to you. It’s going to hurt when we stand you up but it has to be done.

Geralt nodded because he couldn’t speak and felt strong arms around him lifting him up. He was sure his balls had ruptured, it felt like they had been hit was an anvil. Unable to hide the grimace as he was moved he griped Vesemir and Coen’s shoulders in a bruising grip. He was grateful that they went no farther than the dining hall because he didn’t think he could have stood much more even letting out a whimper when he was lowered down on some furs that had been placed near the fire.

Jaskier moved Ciri out of the line of sight to give Geralt some privacy as they laid his head in Naurel’s lap and stripped him. He had to be restrained while he was examined for damage but thankful after a few potions and elixirs he was no longer fighting them. Naurel dipped a cloth in a bowl of water and wiped his sweaty brow and face unable to do anything else to help while Vesemir and Coen worked. Once Geralt was treated and covered with a blanket Vesemir said something to him that was too soft for Naurel to hear before standing. Geralt turned with a pained grunt and wrapped his arms around Naurel’s waist hugging her as he rested his head on her.

Vesemir was livid when he stormed across the room to Eskel. The yelling echoed through the room like screams off a mountainside but Naurel didn’t think Eskel looked repentant at all. She smiled as Ciri came and curled against her side close to Geralt and ran her fingers through his hair offering comfort the only way she knew how as well. The yelling went on for over an hour before Eskel was sent to his room for the night because Vesemir was too angry not to hurt him during punishment at the moment. Eventually, everyone scattered about talking softly or going to their rooms. Thankfully Geralt had calmed enough to meditate and help his healing.

Wolf and flame tag list

@kneelforloki

@shellyshellshell

@warriormirkwood

@mollymal

@secretdreamlandmentality

@salvawhxres 

@dizzybee03

#geralt x reader #witcher geralt #geralt z rivii #geralt of rivia #witcher fanfiction #the witcher netflix #the witcher #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction

[fandom-junk-drawer]

The Witcher Headcanon (Modern Au) - Error 404 Brain Not Found: Bonus Scene - Part 10

Jaskier wandered the aisles of the grocery store, his third of the grocery list in hand. He had managed to convince Yennefer that the supply run would go faster if they split up.

Yennefer hadn't been too thrilled about the idea of Jaskier running around loose by himself, but they were trying to get to Kaer Morhen to visit Vesemir and Peepers, and Jaskier's suggestion had actually been logical.

Plus, she just couldn't say no. Not when he had looked at her with those puppy eyes, and turned up the charm level. And it didn't help that he'd gotten his hair cut and had gone from the Sexy Long Hair, back to the short style Yennefer called his Babygirl Hair.

They joined the line for the register, adding a few drinks and snacks to their basket while they waited.

Geralt was standing in line, hiding in his ratty Emotional Support hoodie, when he felt Jaskier nudge him. He turned to see the bard holding up two plastic packages and smiling mischieviously.

Giant Stickly Hands

Geralt gave him a slight smile in return, and turned around to distract Yennefer so Jaskier could slip them in amongst the other items.

Several minutes later, and they were back on the road.

Jaskier sat in the front passenger's seat and opened the Giant Sticky Hand. He swung it around, slapping it on random surfaces as he got a feel for it. He slapped it against the inside of the windshield a few times, giggling at the sound it made.

He saw Geralt glancing longingly at the novelty toy while trying to keep his attention on the road.

Jaskier handed him his sticky hand, and opened the other one. Yennefer felt the van start swerving slightly and looked up to see the two idiots swinging giant sticky hands at each other.

"Jaskier, stop distracting him! Geralt, keep your d*mn eyes on the road! Melitele, you two tw*ts are going to cause an accident!"

The sticky hands disappeared. Until they stopped for lunch and a chance to stretch their legs.

Yennefer almost had a coniption when she found out Jaskier and Geralt had brought their giant sticky hands into the restauraunt. Geralt had come back to their booth after getting his drink, and Jaskier hand swung his arm and snapped the sticky hand right on Geralt's a**.

Geralt had pulled out his sticky hand and swung it at Jaskier. He missed, and it splatted on the acrylic booth divider next to Jaskier's head.

"You brought those d*mned thing in here? " Yennefer had whispered fiercely to them. "Put them away!" Gods, why did they always have to embarrass her in public? People were already staring!

Jaskier responded to her demand by being the menace that he was, and using the sticky hand to steal her paper napkin.

He and Geralt had started snuffling and snorting quietly, trying to hold back the laughter as Yennefer sat across from them, fuming in silent embarassment. The sticky hands yo-yo'ed in random directions as Geralt and Jaskier completely disregarded the death glare Yennefer was giving them.

Yennefer tried to ignore them and find her happy place so she could at least eat. She contemplated getting up and leaving both their a**es here; just walking out and using her magic to start the van and drive away. It would serve them right.

Geralt's sticky hand slapped right over Jaskier's mouth as he opened it to spoon his food into it. He made a humorous sound and pulled the sticky hand off, whisper laughing, "You f**ker!"

Geralt grinned smugly, then snuffled and almost spat out his onion rings when Jaskier's sticky hand landed in his lap. "B**stard!"

Yennefer almost laughed when, completely by accident, they slapped each other in the face at the same time.

Geralt looked at Jaskier

Jaskier looked at Geralt

The hands started rapidly flying in random directions, accompanied by a symphony of whispered noises.

Yennefer finally had to put her foot down after a sticky hand landed in her food.

She used their mental link and her Mom Voice. "Put those d*mned things away right f***ing now!"

Jaskier and Geralt both jumped at the sharp mental tone. It was pure wrath and the promise of swift and instant consequences if it was not obeyed.

But Jaskier, emboldened by the fact that they were in public, decided to F**k Around and Find Out.

"Make me!" he replied playfully, only to double over seconds later as Yennefer shoved the toe of her dress shoe into his crotch.

"F**k, my baws!" he whisper wheezed breathlessly.

Geralt immediately put his sticky hand away and focused on what was left of his meal. He did not want a foot to the balls too.

The rest of the meal was uneventful aside from Jaskier blowing his straw papers and throwing wadded up paper napkins at her.

Yennefer, unfortunately, had to stand in line, waiting to pay, while Geralt and Jaskier continued their Giant Sticky Hand fight.

Yennefer did her best to pretend like the two grown men behind her weren't acting like two feral 5 year olds. She was impressed with the register attendant's ability to keep a straight face and stay focused.

Once the bill had been settled, Yennefer quickly herded Geralt and Jaskier outside, where she immediately took each of them by an ear and strode determinedly to the van.

Geralt and Jaskier shuffled along beside her, bent over awkwardly and making various noises of discomfort.

"You embarrass me," she growled darkly, "And I will embarrass the ever living h*ll out of you!"

The few children in the parking lot moved closer to their parents and were suddenly very well behaved. They knew an angry Mum when they saw one. And they didn't want their Mum to get any ideas.

There were more than a few whispered questions of "Mum, why's that lady got those men by the ear?" And the simple reply of, "Because they weren't behaving, love".

Geralt and Jaskier did the Awkward Walk of Shame all the way to Roach.

Never had Geralt regretted his habit of parking far away from everyone more in his life.

Yennefer let them go when they reached the van, and Geralt immediately dug his keys out of his pocket and rushed to get out of the public eye.

Jaskier immediately opened his mouth because he had zero sense of self-preservation.

"What the hell, Yen, I-!" Jaskier began in righteous indignation, only to choke back the rest of what he was going to say when he saw the look on Yennefer's face as she snarled, biting out each word.

"Get. In. The. F***ing. Van. Julian."

"Yesma'am!"

They drove in silence for a while to give ruffled feathers time to settle.

Yennefer was sitting on the bed in the back, reading that book Madeleine had recommended when something smacked her on the side of the face. She yelped in surprise and dropped her book , swiping at her face.

Giant Sticky Hand.

Unbelievable.

"You kn*b head!" she snarled.

"That's for kicking me in the fork!" Jaskier laughed, then squealed, dropped the stickly hand, and started trying to get away from Yennefer.

"Hey, sit down back there!" Geralt snapped. He had to reduce his speed and do some counter steering when the van started rocking as Yennefer chased Jaskier around the inside of the van.

"Come here, you little sh*t!" Yennefer hollered, grabbing at the bard.

Jaskier was alternately laughing and gibbering as he dodged and jinked, weaved and twisted, trying to stay away from the angry witch.

Yennefer tripped him, and he fell face first in the gap betwixt the front seats. She was on him in a flash, smacking the back of his head, then ruthlessly pinching the first a**cheek she could reach.

Jaskier gave a muffled yelp and twisted onto his back, hands holding his nose. Yennefer's tone went from incensed, to worried.

"Oh, f**k! Are you alright?"

Jaskier didn't answer, he just kept groaning and holding his nose.

"Jaskier!"

"Is he alright?" Geralt inquired, trying to watch the road.

Jaskier got to his feet and started stumbling towards the bed, Yennefer following behind him.

"Jaskier! Julek! Julek, let me see!"

Jaskier turned around and slowly started moving his hands. Yennefer held her breath, guilt coiling in her chest as he moved his hands and revealed...

...his extended middle finger.

"You jacka**!" Yennefer hollered.

Geralt had to pull the van over and go save Jaskier as hands started flying.

#the witcher #the witcher netflix #twn #the witcher headcanon #the witcher modern au #geralt #geralt of rivia #yennefer #yennefer of vengerberg #jaskier #julian alfred pankratz #geraskier #geraskifer #geraskefer #yenskier #yennskier #yennaskier #yenneskier #yenralt #error 404 brain not found headcanon #error 404 headcanon #brain not found headcanon

[bambirex]

A Lesson In Patience

Pairing: Geraskier

Characters: Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier

Additional tags: plot what plot/porn without plot, thigh fucking, light dom/sub, teasing, edging, orgasm delay/denial, crying during sex, age difference, set in season 1

Word count: 1,939 words

Chapters: 1/1

Rating: explicit

Summary: “Fuck me,” he moaned against Geralt’s neck. He pushed his body against Geralt’s, rubbing his hard cock against his groin. “Now.”

Geralt smirked against Jaskier’s skin. He gave his ass a curt spank, making Jaskier let out a delighted gasp.

“Get on the bed, then,” Geralt told him. Jaskier nearly tripped over his own feet in his haste. He threw himself on the bed, opening his legs with a sultry look. Geralt stood at the foot of the bed, raking his eyes over Jaskier’s body, practically already writhing with need.

“What are you waiting for?” He drawled. “Don’t just stand there!”

Geralt retrieved the bottle of oil from the desk, keeping his eyes on Jaskier all the while. Jaskier pouted and huffed, then reached between his legs and started stroking his cock, unable to go without a bit of pleasure for a few moments. Oh, it will be delicious to break him in and show him it was worth waiting, Geralt thought with a smirk.

Author's notes: Some unadultered, pure smut, served cold (or hot? I hope it is lol)

Had this image in my head for a while, finally got it out, so here's some PWP about it! Feedback is super appreciated <3

Read on Ao3

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Jaskier was easily the most impatient person Geralt has ever met. He wanted everything all at once, and immediately: this personality trait of his affected pretty much everything in his life. It was in the way he talked, speaking so rapidly it was sometimes hard to make out each word, often straying between topics and not finishing sentences, because he had so much to say at once. It was in the way he walked, bouncing and speeding down the road without looking around, often bumping into things on the way. It was in the way he ate, shoveling food into his mouth and barely breathing between bites, complaining about a stomachache afterwards. It was in the way he so desperately wanted to achieve fame, pouting when his nonsense lyrics didn’t sit well with the folks, still scrambling to figure out who he was as an artist but already wanting to be the Continent’s most renowned bard.

And, of course, it was also in the way he fucked, overheated with hormones and wanting to try everything, swimming and drowning in pleasure, quickly taking and giving everything. He was in his early twenties, just barely out of his teenage years, it made sense he was riding high on the constant adrenaline of his youth, but it was annoying. Geralt was getting really fed up with Jaskier’s inability to take things slow. He already spread his legs or mounted Geralt after just a couple of kisses, which didn’t serve them right when Geralt wanted to draw things out.

Clearly, Jaskier needed to be taught a lesson in patience, before he ended up driving Geralt crazy.

Geralt did not tell him about his plan. They started things as usual, undressing each other during heated kisses. Jaskier sighed and moaned in bliss as Geralt’s hands caressed over his bare body, skimming the softness at his waist before dipping lower and giving his pert bottom a good squeeze. Jaskier tangled his hands in Geralt’s hair as he kissed all over the witcher’s neck. Geralt groaned when Jaskier nipped at his skin, sucking a mark there.

As usual, Jaskier started to get demanding after only a couple of minutes.

“Fuck me,” he moaned against Geralt’s neck. He pushed his body against Geralt’s, rubbing his hard cock against his groin. “Now.”

Geralt smirked against Jaskier’s skin. He gave his ass a curt spank, making Jaskier let out a delighted gasp.

“Get on the bed, then,” Geralt told him. Jaskier nearly tripped over his own feet in his haste. He threw himself on the bed, opening his legs with a sultry look. Geralt stood at the foot of the bed, raking his eyes over Jaskier’s body, practically already writhing with need.

“What are you waiting for?” He drawled. “Don’t just stand there!”

Geralt retrieved the bottle of oil from the desk, keeping his eyes on Jaskier all the while. Jaskier pouted and huffed, then reached between his legs and started stroking his cock, unable to go without a bit of pleasure for a few moments. Oh, it will be delicious to break him in and show him it was worth waiting, Geralt thought with a smirk.

He poured a generous amount of oil into his hand, coating his fingers with it. He made sure his movements were slow and thorough. Jaskier, as expected, did not like that.

“Geralt,” he whined, his voice so dramatically pained, “what are you doing?”

“Putting oil on my fingers,” Geralt replied calmly. “Why?”

“Melitele’s sake,” Jaskier huffed. He gave his cock a squeeze, groaning as he bucked into his hand. “Why are you taking so long?”

“On your hands and knees,” Geralt told him, ignoring Jaskier’s whining. Jaskier squealed as he rolled onto his front, pushing himself up. He wiggled his ass, spreading his legs as wide as he could. Geralt rolled his eyes at him fondly.

He knelt behind Jaskier, running a hand over the back of his fuzzy thighs. Jaskier shivered under his touch. Geralt took his sweet time caressing Jaskier’s legs and hips, mapping out his curves with gentle squeezes. Jaskier huffed again.

“What are you doing?”

“Touching you.”

“Geralt, I know that, I mean… why are you stalling?”

“Stalling?” Geralt asked innocently. He slipped his hand between Jaskier’s legs and cupped his balls. “I think it’s called foreplay, actually.”

He massaged Jaskier’s balls with his oiled-up hand, making Jaskier keen. He rocked his hips backwards desperately, begging Geralt to touch him where he needed him the most. Geralt skimmed the underside of his cock with just one finger, the touch barely more than a teasing tickle. Jaskier cursed.

“What’s wrong?” Geralt asked with a small smile. He took his hand away from Jaskier’s cock. “You don’t like it?”

“Geralt…”

Geralt pulled back and grabbed the bottle again. He spread Jaskier’s legs a little further apart, earning an excited little noise. Oh, the poor thing had no idea what was coming.

“Oh, yes,” Jaskier moaned, “get inside me!”

Geralt poured oil onto Jaskier’s soft inner thighs. He massaged it into the skin, slicking up the area as much as he could. Jaskier twisted his head to send Geralt a confused look over his shoulder.

“That’s not my hole,” Jaskier reminded him with a pout. “You’re heading too much to the south, dear.”

“I know,” Geralt replied simply. He poured one more layer of oil on Jaskier’s thighs before he slicked up his cock. Jaskier craned his neck to see it, licking his lips hungrily at the sight of Geralt oiling himself up.

“Mhm, yes, a nice treat for me,” Jaskier whispered sensually, “can’t wait to feel you inside me.”

Geralt hummed. He ignored the way Jaskier wiggled his bum again. He grabbed Jaskier’s hips and pushed forward, thrusting his cock between Jaskier’s slicked-up thighs. The way the soft flesh enveloped his cock felt heavenly. He let out a pleased hum, while Jaskier snorted.

“Geralt, you’re definitely in the wrong place.”

“No, I’m in the right place,” Geralt told him. He grabbed Jaskier’s thighs and pushed them together, making them squeeze down around his cock. He groaned in bliss as he slowly started rocking forward, dragging his cock along the tight, pillowy channel Jaskier’s legs created.

“This feels really good, don’t you think so?” Geralt drawled. He caressed Jaskier’s hip gently. He pulled back slightly to watch his cock disappear between Jaskier’s thighs, slipping in and out of the new, warm hole he created for himself.

“Geralt, you said you would fuck me!” Jaskier whined loudly. His breath hitched when Geralt’s cock hit his balls. He trembled when Geralt did it on purpose, angling his hips upwards so their cocks would brush lightly again, before he returned to focusing solely on his own pleasure, humping Jaskier’s thighs in a slowly, steady rhythm.

“I didn’t say that, you started demanding it,” Geralt reminded him. “And I wanna do this, instead.”

“Why?” Jaskier whimpered again. “Wouldn’t it be better to be inside me?”

“I’m having a lot of fun,” Geralt chuckled. He closed his eyes in bliss as he moved his hips back and forth, rocking into the sleeve Jaskier’s thighs created. He caressed Jaskier’s trembling bottom as he tilted his hips again, letting their cocks brush together again slightly before he took it away again, leaving Jaskier hanging and whimpering.

“Geralt, please,” he begged, and Geralt could hear his voice growing high-pitched, desperate. “Please, this is nice and everything, but please, fuck me!”

Geralt gave his ass a sharp slap. It made Jaskier’s breath stuck in his throat.

“No,” Geralt growled, accentuating his words with a hard thrust that only served him right, as Jaskier couldn’t feel the same pleasure. He was left out of it cruelly, sentenced to only the feeling of Geralt’s hard dick moving between his thighs, occasionally hitting his balls when Geralt felt generous.

“You need to learn to take things slow, Jaskier. Sometimes, you need to wait to have your turn.”

“I’ll be good,” Jaskier pleaded. He squeezed his thighs together harder, the vice pulling Geralt in deeper and making him growl. Jaskier moved his legs, grinding them together and trying to milk Geralt’s cock with his thighs. Geralt growled at him.

“Be still.”

Jaskier buried his face in the pillows, his whimpers turning muffled. His entire body trembled with need, but he stilled, gripping the sheets beneath him.

“Good behavior might earn you a reward,” Geralt reminded him gently. He pulled back to pour some more oil onto his cock, then onto Jaskier’s thighs as well. He could see his sensitive inner thighs turning red, and he didn’t want to chafe him any longer. He slipped back inside with a pleased grunt.

“This is torture,” Jaskier sniffled. His back was taut, the muscles pulled tight as he did his best to remain still. “You’re torturing me.”

“I’m making sure you’ll learn that not everything has to happen fast.”

Truth be told, there were moments where Geralt’s own composure nearly crumbled: the sight of Jaskier like this, whimpering into the bedsheets, his entire body trembling, desperately holding back, trying to be such a good boy for him, was incredibly arousing. Geralt enjoyed watching the way his cock stabbed between Jaskier’s plush thighs, the way those thighs clenched around him, shivering with the effort not to move too much. It wasn’t as if Geralt didn’t want to fuck into Jaskier’s tight little hole that clenched around nothing right in front of his eyes, quivering in a way that made Geralt’s mouth water. He ran a thumb over it, slowly, caressing around the tight ring of muscles. Jaskier jumped slightly, then stilled right away- he was learning already. Good.

“Yes, not yet,” Geralt drawled. “Good boy.”

Jaskier moaned in response. Sweat was running down his back as he gripped the bedsheets tighter while Geralt continued fucking his thighs. He accepted his fate with a resigned sigh, turning as still a statue. Geralt rewarded him with a good set of thrusts that jostled his balls that were pulled taut with the need to release. Geralt rubbed his dry thumb over Jaskier’s hole, teasing him as he sped his thrusts up just a little bit.

“You’re being so good,” Geralt praised him, his hips stuttering as he slowly approached his climax. “Just a little more. Can you hold on for me?”

“Yes,” Jaskier cried. Geralt leant over him, fucking deeper into the silky soft channel as he kissed all over Jaskier’s back, soothing him.

“Don’t touch yourself,” Geralt commanded. “I’ll make you cum after I’m done.”

Jaskier whimpered something incoherent in response as Geralt’s thrusts slowed again, then his body stilled as he came, coating Jaskier’s inner thighs with his seed.

He remained still and quiet while Geralt caught his breath. Geralt pulled back, admiring the sight of Jaskier’s pinkened, soaked, pathetically trembling thighs. Geralt caressed them gently, thanking them for their wonderful service.

Jaskier literally sobbed when Geralt finally took pity on him and took his cock in his hand, jerking him off with quick movements. He slipped a finger inside Jaskier’s hole as he pumped his aching cock, and that was all he needed to cum all over Geralt’s hand, crying and howling as his pent-up, needy body finally got its release.

Geralt gathered him in his arms as Jaskier collapsed, kissing all over his teary and sweaty face.

“So good, such a good boy,” Geralt murmured as he cradled Jaskier to his chest. “Very nice, quick learner.”

Jaskier snorted softly as he buried his face in Geralt’s chest, clinging to him.

Geralt was certain Jaskier needed some more time to learn, but he clearly wasn’t a lost cause.

#geraskier #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher fic #my fic #geralt of rivia #jaskier #geralt x jaskier #geraskier fanfiction

[inexplicifics]

Listening to "I have Heart-Fire and Singing to give" again and thinking about the One (1) cool professor Jaskier must have had. He taught rhetorical thinking/arguing whatever and didn't give two shits what the other stuffy teachers think of him.

He was already relativly old when he taught Jaskier, this 60-something human (which was ancient to 18 year old Julian) and he wasn't the cool professor but they all feared and worshipped him anyway.

So Jaskier sits at the academics table at Oxenfurt listening to his old teachers grovel and Old Scrunkly rocks up like "Heard your Wolf-Rising-Cicle. You still do the (thing he admonished baby Jaskier in class for and made Jaskier cry about)". *sits down next to the scariest Witcher and starts munching on the softest food available because his teeth ain't what they used to be*

He isn't afraid of Witchers even a little bit and when Eskel comments on this Old Scrunkly looks him dead in the eyes and says: "Boy, for the last 40 years I taught privileged Teenagers how to not think/talk stupid things. I fear neither King nor God. Cut that bread into tiny pieces for me, will you, laddie."

Okay this is hilarious and I love it.

The Witchers would love him. He reminds them of Old Barmin or Old Keldar, even if he's literally younger than Eskel. It's great.

#questions answered

[kueble]

Mine Furr-Ever

Written for the “Gift” prompt for @witcher-bows-and-arrows.  This is part of my Kitten Jaskier au, though no actual kitten play happens.  It’s mentioned, though!

Teen, No Warnings. 1,700 words.

Geralt/Jaskier

---

Jaskier normally gets home from work before Geralt, so he’s thrown off when he enters their apartment and finds it filled with the scents and sounds of cooking.  He toes off his shoes and sets down his bag before padding into the kitchen.  Geralt is hovering over the stove and doesn’t acknowledge him at first.  When Jaskier clears his throat, his boyfriend jumps and spins around to glare at him.

“Sorry love,” Jaskier says, though he can’t hold back his giggles.  “Thought we agreed not to go all out for Valentine’s Day.”

“We did, but cooking dinner for us isn’t going all out.  We gotta eat, right?” Geralt asks, his cheeks turning an adorable shade of pink.  He pretends to be all gruff and aloof, but Jaskier adores how secretly sweet he really is.

“You’re so good to me,” Jaskier tells him before stepping closer and pecking him quickly on the mouth.  “Let me get out of my work clothes and into something more comfortable.  Be right back.”

“More comfortable had better not mean lingerie.  I’ve spent too much time fretting over this dinner to let it get cold,” Geralt warns him.

“As tempting as that is, I can actually behave when the situation calls for it,” Jaskier says, ignoring the disbelieving look Geralt sends his way.

Thankfully the bedroom is free of any cheesy candles or rose petals.  Jaskier doesn’t hate Valentine’s Day, but he hasn’t had many good ones.  Besides, they'd probably manage to start the bedding on fire if they tried.  Laughing to himself, he grabs a pair of jeans and a navy button-up.  Geralt has foregone his usual sweats, so he figures he better not come out looking like a slob.

There is a pair of cat ears on top of the dresser - his favorite brown ones - but he doesn’t put them on.  No, tonight isn’t about that.  As much as Priscilla likes to tease him, he isn’t always in the mood to play.  He and Geralt have plenty of non-kinky - well mildly less kinky - sex.  Sure, he loves the kitten play, needs it even, but it’s just one part of their very solid relationship.

Geralt is plating up dinner when he wanders back out.  It smells absolutely delicious, and he doesn’t even complain when he’s shooed out of the kitchen.  It gives him enough time to grab his gift for Geralt and hide it behind a couch cushion.  He had it shipped to Priscilla’s place to avoid running the surprise.

There’s a bottle of merlot on the table, so he picks it up and pours each of them a glass.  He notices Geralt set their tiny table so they’re seated next to each other instead of across like normal.  It gives an added intimacy to the whole thing, and Jaskier smiles to himself at how soft Geralt gets for him.

He’s so in love that he can’t believe it sometimes.

“Sit down so I can serve you properly,” Geralt says, breaking him out of his thoughts.

“Not going to pull my chair out?” he teases just to see him fidget.

“Only if you want a lapful of steak,” Geralt responds dryly.  Jaskier laughs and sits down, making sure to coo over how food everything looks.   Geralt has a proud look on his face as he joins him at the table.

He has to admit it’s an impressive spread.  The steak looks cooked to perfection, and there is a heap of sauteed mushrooms piled on top of it.  A huge baked potato with sour cream and roasted asparagus rounds out the meal.  His stomach growls in appreciation, and he jokingly cringes while Geralt snorts at him.

“You’ve truly outdone yourself,” Jaskier tells him, his grimace turning into a warm smile.

“You’re worth it,” Geralt murmurs before picking up his wine glass and holding it in the air.  Jaskier does the same and Geralt adds, “Happy Valentine’s Day.  To us.”

“To us!” Jaskier echos before clinking their glasses together and taking a small sip.

“How was work?” Geralt asks, and Jaskier groans while he cuts into his steak.  The inside is the exact shade of pink he’d been hoping for and his mouth waters as he stabs a piece along with a couple of mushrooms.

“As boring as ever,” he mumbles before taking his first bite.  It’s so tender and seasoned perfectly, and he can’t hold back his moan as he chews.  “Fuck me, this is brilliant.”

“Later, but I told you we have to eat it while it’s hot.  Plus I have that strawberry cream cake you love from the bakery across town so we can’t skip dessert.  I made a special trip to get it, so I won’t let you rush this,” Geralt says in a teasing tone.

“I love you so fucking much,” Jaskier tells him, though the mouthful of asparagus might distract from his message.

“Love you too, despite your truly horrific table manners,” Geralt snorts.   Jaskier just shrugs and continues eating.  He’s famished after a long day at work, and this is an amazing feast.

They make small talk as they eat, but it’s comfortable rather than awkward.  It’s a welcome routine to just go over their days and share funny little vignettes or gripe about their coworkers.  Jaskier has never felt this at ease with anyone, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything.  They keep getting caught mooning over each other, happily pointing out every lovesick look the other one has.  By the time they’re cleaning up the table, he’s so happy he could burst, and all over the most mundane things.  Everything is just so much more when it’s shared with Geralt.

“Leave the dishes.  I’ll do them later,” Geralt tells him, and Jaskier gives him a pointed look before setting his plate on the counter.  “Fine, I’ll do them tomorrow.  But I’m not doing them now and you don’t have to worry about them, so why don’t you go sit on the couch and I’ll get your gift.”

“Oh, I get a gift?” Jaskier asks coyly.

“As if I’d miss the chance to give you one,” Geralt chuckles while shoving him towards the living room.  Jaskier uses the time to pull his own gift out from where he stashed it earlier.  The gaudy pink bag is perhaps a bit much, but he wasn’t about to try and wrap it.  Everything he touches ends up looking like a small child did it.

“Me first!” Jaskier chirps as soon as Geralt gets back.  He pats the couch next to him and thrusts his gift into Geralt’s chest, nearly causing him to drop the small present he has.  Geralt rolls his eyes and hands over the gift without saying anything.

Jaskier holds it in his hands while he watches Geralt pull the tissue paper out of the bag.  Next up is a large bag of conversation hearts.  Geralt quirks an eyebrow at him, and Jaskier just beams back.  He opens the bag and dumps a few into his hand before snorting loudly.

“Cat themed conversation hearts?” he asks before lifting his hand to read them.  “You’re purrfect.  UR the cat’s pajamas.  Mine Furrever.  Where did you get these?”  He pops them into his mouth before cringing.

“Yeah, they taste horrible, don’t they?” Jaskier giggles, “but I found them online and couldn’t resist.  I got you real candy, too.  It’s those peanut butter fudge things you like from the shop near Eskel’s place.”  Geralt excitedly looks at the bag and takes out a large box of his favorite chocolates.

“You know me so well,” he says.  He gets quiet for a long moment, chewing on his lower lip as he looks at the package in Jaskier’s hands.  “I hope I know you just as well.  Open it.”

Jaskier makes a show of shaking the box, but there’s no sound.  It’s wrapped in plain silver paper with a little pink ribbon tied around it.  He slides the ribbon off and works a finger through a seam to rip the paper open.  Once he opens the box, he looks at it, not quite sure what it is.  It’s some kind of blue leather band, but it’s looped in a spiral.

“If you hate it, I can get something else,” Geralt rushes out before taking it out of the box for him.  “I just, uh, I was at the farmer’s market with Lambert and saw this leather maker there.  He had a bunch of these bracelets and you could get them customized.  It should wrap around your wrist a couple of times, because it fit me and I’m bigger than you.”  He looks shy, not meeting Jaskier’s eyes as he hands it back over.  Jaskier takes it and turns the band over to see the words stamped into it.

“Pretty Kitty,” Jaskier whispers.  Geralt’s favorite term of endearment, burned right into the navy leather.  “I love it!” he exclaims, trying to put it on himself and failing miserably.

“No, it goes on the inside,” Geralt says, laughing as he leans over to help.  The band does indeed wrap around his wrist twice before securing with a snap.  It might take some practice, but he should be able to get it on himself next time.   “It’s uh, well…I didn’t want to share it, you know?  It’s on the inside so it’s pressed against your skin, just for the two of us to know.”

“You’re the most incredible man I’ve ever met,” Jaskier rushes out before climbing into Geralt’s lap.  The bag of candy falls to the floor, no doubt scattering all over, but who could care when they’re busy being kissed by such a lovely man?

They’re laughing into the kiss, both scrambling to stay on the couch with how forcefully Jaskier sat on him. Geralt scoots back against the cushions and Jaskier chases his mouth, kissing him properly once they settle in.  He tastes like wine, and Jaskier chases the flavor, licking past his lips and deepening the kiss.  Geralt sighs into his mouth, their tongues sliding together as they get lost in it.  Geralt cups his ass and holds him in place when Jaskier tries to rock down against him.  He gets the hint and keeps things slow.  They kiss lazily, time forgotten, and Jaskier’s last coherent thought is how much he likes this stupid holiday now.

---

SFW Tags: @halerune @mayastormborn @dani-dandelino @jaskierswolf @littoraly-art @tothedesert @dapandapod @theweirdlynx @tedrakitty @sharinalein @theamazingdevilgivesmehope @iamaqt314 @silvermintnightprincess @rockysstupidity @live-long-and-trek-on @hayleynzlive @holymotherwolf @thesynysterunknown @rebard-main @larawrmonster @gryffinqueen-blog @lovelyscot @fangirleaconmigo @mothmanismyuncle @fontegagrilledcheese @thestarkwinter @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde @allthequeenshorses13 @221birl1823 @strippiluolamies @concussed-dragon @aurelia-which-means-sunrise @clarebear66 @feral-jaskier @j-u-s-tmyself​ @hayleynzlive @thisislisa @firefly-party @officerjennie @theshapeofcool @flawney @viking1919 @peanitbear @blues-tunes

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#my fic #kitten Jaskier #geraskier #the witcher #geralt x jaskier #geralt #jaskier #witcher valentine #witcher bows and arrows #bows and arrows 2

[flowercrown-bard]

Not a Real Marriage

(arranged marriage au - part 16)  

previous part / masterpost /  ao3

word count: 10700

Geralt wasn’t sure what he had expected Jaskier to look like the morning after an evening spent drinking with his brothers. If he was being completely honest, he didn’t expect to see much of Jaskier at all. He must be sporting quite the headache after last night, considering even Geralt with his witcher-metabolism had quite the ringing in his head this morning. If he hadn’t had duties to fulfil - and Vesemir’s dressing-down to look forward to if he neglected to do his tasks for the day - he would have stayed in bed until midday. Jaskier, however, looked rosy cheeked and surprisingly well rested, when Geralt bumped into him on his way back from feeding the chickens. 

For some reason, Jaskier was bundled up in several layers of clothes Geralt had lended him over the weeks. The red scarf he was wearing was so big that Jaskier’s nose barely peeked out. 

“Going somewhere?” Geralt asked, ignoring the hammering behind his temples. 

“I am,” Jaskier replied cheerfully. “At least I hope so.”

“Hmm?” 

“I believe I’ve been promised to be shown around the mountain? We haven’t done it yet and Vesemir said that the snowstorms are going to start soon so we don’t have much time left to go out.”

Geralt blinked. “You want to go on that ride today?”

“If you’re amenable. I would love to.”

Where Jaskier’s cheeks weren’t hidden away by the scarf, they turned a lovely shade of red. Geralt’s heart picked up speed and he did his best to blink away the misery of a hungover morning. He would be damned if he missed the chance of going on a ride with Jaskier because of a stupid thing like a hangover. 

“Yes,” he said quickly and with a little teasing smile added, “It would be a shame if you had to get undressed again after going through all the trouble of putting on all those clothes.”

“I wouldn’t mind getting undressed,” Jaskier muttered, the words muffled by the scarf. 

Geralt choked, forcibly forbidding his thoughts from straying into dangerous territory. Instead he focused on thinking of places he could show Jaskier. 

“Meet me at the gate? I need to get my cloak and get Roach saddled.” He waited for Jaskier to nod his agreement, before he turned away. After a couple of steps, he paused again. “Is there anything I should pack? Food? Some wine maybe?”

“No wine,” Jaskier said quickly. 

Geralt’s lips quirked up. Ah, so Jaskier wasn’t immune to the effects of a night of revelry after all. Jaskier was a brilliant actor, if he could just pretend to have a clear head this morning. 

“Are you sure you want to do this today?” Concern crept into Geralt’s posture. “We can do this some other time when you don’t have a headache.” 

He glanced out of a nearby window. The sky was already filled with snow-heavy clouds. Vesemir was right. They didn’t have much time until they would be trapped inside the Keep. 

“I don’t.” Jaskier grinned boyishly. “Vesemir gave me a cure for the headache. And a lecture about drinking with Lambert.” He let out a chuckle that warmed Geralt’s insides even more than the alcohol had warmed him the night before. “I take it he didn’t extend the same courtesy to you?”

Geralt snorted. 

“No. He thinks if he doesn’t help us with the headaches, we’ll learn some sort of lesson.”

“How lucky you are,” Jaskier said theatrically, as he reached into the pockets of his cloak, “to have a husband as charming and persuasive as me. Catch!” Without further warning, he tossed something to Geralt, who reacted on instinct. He caught the small bottle mid-air, popped the cork and sniffed. It smelled like bitter herbs. 

“What did you do to get him to give you this?” Geralt asked, perplexed and downed the tincture in one go. He shuddered at the bitter taste, but it would be worth it, if it meant he’d get to fully enjoy the day with Jaskier. 

“I told him that I wanted to go out today and that you wouldn’t be able to protect me if you had a hangover - and surely it wouldn’t be great for the treaty if I got hurt.”

Geralt lifted a brow. “Really? You played the political consequences card?” “Of course not. But I did tell him about my plans for the day and he agreed that it would be better if you didn’t have a headache for that.”

“Should I be concerned about your plans?” 

“Not at all,” Jaskier said, something tentatively soft entering his voice. “I think - I hope you’ll like them.” “I’m sure I will.”

He lingered another moment, unwilling to leave Jaskier, despite knowing that he’d see him again right away. 

He shook himself and went on his way to get ready. He rushed through getting dressed appropriately for the weather, though he refused to be hectic around Roach, as he saddled her. When he led her to the gate, Jaskier was already waiting for him, bouncing on the balls of his feet in anticipation. When he caught sight of Geralt walking towards him, his face lit up. It almost reminded Geralt of their wedding day. Only this time, it was their choice to come to each other and Geralt didn’t feel like being led to the gallows. 

It was only when Jaskier began to fiddle with the strap of a backpack, that Geralt realised that Jaskier was holding onto one. It looked stuffed and when Jaskier moved to fasten it onto Roach’s saddle, there was jingling and light clanging. 

Geralt gave him a questioning look that Jaskier waved away. “You’ll see,” he simply said. He gave Geralt a scrutinising look that had Geralt shifting on his feet. He was suddenly painfully aware of the state of his old cloak; the fraying at the bottom and the holes on his shoulders, where his sword scabbard rubbed against the wool. It was probably not necessary to take his weapons with him, so he had left the steel sword in his room, but the weight of the silver sword on his back grounded him and helped settle his nerves. 

In one less than elegant motion, Jaskier unwound the scarf from around his neck and draped the red cloth around Geralt instead. He smoothed it out gently. 

“There,” he said, satisfied, “Now you won’t go cold.” Geralt frowned and already opened his mouth to protest, when he inhaled and caught the scent clinging to the scarf. It smelled of lute wood, paper and that distinct smell that was purely Jaskier’s. His breath caught in his throat. The scent was far too prominent for how little he had seen Jaskier wear this scarf. If he didn’t know any better, he would have said that Jaskier had used the scarf as an additional blanket in the night, but that was … he caught Jaskier’s eyes. There was a hopeful shyness in his eyes. Oh. Jaskier knew. He remembered what Coën and Aiden had told him yesternight about sharing clothes. And still he was wearing Geralt’s clothes. More even, he was giving Geralt something that smelled like him. Any words he could have spoken dried on Geralt’s lips, but he got the impression that Jaskier noticed his realisation even so. His shyness morphed into relief and he turned away to put a hand on Roach’s saddlehorn. He looked over his shoulder to Geralt. “Give me a hand?”

Jaskier was more than capable of mounting a horse by himself, of that Geralt was sure by now. But he didn’t mention it. Instead, he stepped closer and folded his hands together so he could give Jaskier a boost. Once Jaskier was seated, Geralt swung himself behind him into Roach’s back. 

With a content sigh, Jaskier leaned back against him and Geralt wound one arm around his waist, making sure he was safe and secure, before he gave Roach the nudge to move. He didn’t take the direct path to the spot he had decided on. Instead he steered Roach this way and that, wherever he thought Jaskier might like. Past a small waterfall, across a wooden bridge some bear-witchers had built, through a patch of flowers that still resisted the cold. Every once in a while, he explained the mountain to Jaskier. 

“This is where Eskel and I used to run off to as children.”

“This bit is part of the Trail we had to run as novices.”

“This is how far I got when I decided to steal Roach and run away with her, before I got lost and had to wait for Vesemir to take me back home.”

“This is where Lambert set of his first bomb and almost burned Vesemir’s moustache off.”

Those things weren’t full stories yet, but maybe Geralt would find the right words to tell Jaskier more about what these places meant to him and his family one day. Even so, Jaskier gave soft hums, chuckled and offered stories of his own. He talked about his own attempt at running away to become a bard - an attempt that had ended rather abruptly when he had realised that his dancing shoes weren’t exactly made for long distance walking. He talked about his sisters and travelling with his father. As he talked about his family at Lettenhove, Geralt realised that he used almost the same fond tone he used  when talking about Eskel, Lambert, Coën or Aiden. Not Geralt though. The tone Jaskier used to talk to Geralt was reserved only for him. 

After a while, they quieted down again, except for when Jaskier let out soft gasps, whenever he saw something he liked. Every time there was a particularly interesting root of a tree, a rabbit scuttling away or a pretty cloud, Jaskier looked over his shoulder to Geralt; always making sure he was seeing the pretty thing as well. Always letting him know that this ride was already making him happy. 

With every passing moment, Geralt felt himself being swept away by Jaskier's excitement more and more. It was contagious and made him see the mountain that was his home with changed eyes. When he finally pulled Roach to a halt, there was a small smile tugging at his lips, that he knew wouldn't leave anytime soon.

He helped Jaskier dismount, his hands lingering on his waist, even after Jaskier had come to stand securely on solid ground. Jaskier's hands in turn were holding onto Geralt's upper arms. After a moment, he let them slide down, over his forearms, until he was clasping Geralt's hands in his gloved ones. 

Geralt took it as an invitation to guide Jaskier along the hidden path leading them through thick pine trees. Roach followed dutifully and the anticipation was coming off of Jaskier in waves. 

Geralt pushed some branches aside, revealing the sight of a small lake. Along the edges, some yellow and purple flowers were blossoming that had stubbornly endured the harsh autumn and were now facing the impending winter with their heads held high. Jaskier gasped, and squeezed Geralt's hand.

“It's beautiful,” he gasped. He worried at his lip, visibly hesitating. “Does this place have meaning to you too?”

“Not yet.” 

Jaskier softened at that admission. 

“Would you mind giving me an Igni?”

The question came so unexpectedly that Geralt took a step back, dropping Jaskier's hand. 

“What?”

“Fire,” Jaskier explained needlessly. “That day at the hot springs, you said I could ask you if I ever needed a light again.” He went to Roach, pulling the bag he had fastened onto her, down. There was clanking again, and then, Jaskier was holding up two lanterns, small enough that they could fit into the palm of a hand. Judging by the bulge of the bag, there probably were at least four more lanterns in there. Jaskier brought them over to Geralt and held them up for him to light them. Jaskier’s face was cast in a warm orange glow, when Geralt cast the sign carefully. The flames danced in his eyes, making him look like something otherworldly. Jaskier gave him a beaming smile and placed the lanterns on the ground at the edge of the lake, before fetching the rest of the lights. The glow was reflected on the water that rippled softly in the breeze. Soon, the lanterns would be the only source of light here, with the sun going down in the afternoon already this season. And here Jaskier was, bringing with him light and warmth, as he always did. 

After Jaskier had put the last lantern in place, he pulled a blanket out of the bag and laid it out on the ground. “Are you sure that’s warm enough?” Geralt asked, eying the blanket with distrust. “The ground is almost frozen.”

“Right you are,” Jaskier said without a care in the world. “But I seem to recall that a certain husband of mine is far more resistant to the cold than me.” He patted the blanket invitingly. “And I also seem to recall that this husband doesn’t mind having me in his lap.” Despite the teasing tone, Jaskier’s raised brows and tilted head made it obvious that it was a question rather than an assumption. 

Geralt hummed in affirmation and lowered himself onto the blanket, making sure to sit in a way that would allow Jaskier to sit in his lap as comfortably as possible. Once Jaskier realised that Geralt truly didn’t mind, his face lit up and he snuggled against him, chest to chest, laying his head on Geralt’s shoulder. On instinct, Geralt raised one hand to cradle the back of Jaskier’s head. Idly, he played with Jaskier’s hair, eliciting a soft sigh from the bard. 

“I’m happy,” Jaskier sighed. “Here, with you.” He paused. “Always and anywhere with you, really.” “Me too.”

Jaskier lifted his head a little and their eyes met. With Jaskier’s back to the lanterns, his face was cast in deep shadows. Geralt’s eyes followed the shadow of Jaskier’s lashes. They fluttered, as Jaskier’s eyes dipped lower, to Geralt’s lips. 

“I’ve got something for you,” Jaskier said, a blush creeping over his cheeks. He reached into his pockets and pulled out something small and tangled. He cursed under his breath and fiddled with the thing until Geralt could recognise it as a braided bracelet. 

“It’s not as big as giving you a shirt,” Jaskier said sheepishly and Geralt’s breath caught in his throat. 

So Jaskier truly remembered that conversation. Giving him the scarf hadn’t just been something he had done on a whim. There was no ambiguity about whether he knew what sharing clothes meant to Geralt and he had still done it. And now he was giving him something else. His thoughts were so loud that it took him a moment to realise that Jaskier was still speaking. 

 “-and not as big of a statement as the dagger you gave me.” He patted his hip and only now did Geralt notice the sheathe Jaskier had fastened onto his belt. Something inside him unwound and he leaned closer to Jaskier, as if pulled in by chaos. 

Jaskier pulled off his gloves and took Geralt’s hand, clasped the bracelet around his wrist.

“I made it out of old lute strings. Since the song isn’t something you can carry with you.” He paused. “And since you haven’t heard it fully yet.”

Geralt looked down at the bracelet and caressed the tightly interwoven strings, until the tips of his fingers reached Jaskier. 

“Thank you,” he said breathlessly. “It’s perfect.”

The corners of Jaskier’s eyes wrinkled with joy, before a frown suddenly appeared between his brows. He pulled back, crinkling his nose. 

“What-” Geralt began to ask, but then he saw a snowflake land on Jaskier’s nose and Jaskier pulled the same face again.

A chuckle rose up in Geralt’s chest, starting out small, then quickly turning warm and loud like a roaring fire. He watched enraptured as the confusion on Jaskier’s face melted alongside the snowflakes and morphed into wonder. 

“Geralt!” A delighted giggle slipped past his lips. With all the grace than a newborn foal learning to run, he got to his feet and spread his arms, as if trying to catch the entire cloud that was hanging in the sky and all the snow it would bring. “It’s snowing!” Ignoring Geralt’s protests that he should put his gloves back on before his fingers froze off, Jaskier dropped the gloves to the ground and held his hands up, giggling like a child whenever he caught a snowflake in his palm. He spun around, as more and more snow began to fall around him. He must have gotten dizzy from all the twirling, for he staggered right into Geralt, who caught him. 

“Careful,” Geralt said, as he let go. 

“Guess I’m in danger of falling for you,” Jaskier replied with a cheeky wink. He tilted his head back and thankfully missed the flustered expression on Geralt’s face. He was far too busy sticking out his tongue and trying to catch snowflakes with it.

“Don’t just stand there all judgy,” he said, after catching one snowflake and grinning at Geralt triumphantly. “Join me.”

Geralt shook his head fondly but decisively. 

“Oh come on.” Jaskier tugged at Geralt’s arm, not making him budge in the slightest. “Don’t tell me now is the time that you remember you don’t know how to have fun.” “I’m having plenty of fun.”

“Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah.” Geralt said softly, refusing to match Jaskier’s challenging tone. “It’s nice - seeing you be happy. Even though I still think you should put your gloves back on. You’re going to regret touching snow with your bare hands.”

“And I’m willing to endure you telling me ‘I told you so’ when it happens.” A mischievous spark gleamed in Jaskier’s eyes. “Besides, with cold hands, I can do this!”

Quick as lightning, Jaskier flung himself at Geralt, getting up on his tiptoes and stuck a hand in the back of Geralt’s cloak, right beneath his collar. A shiver ran down Geralt’s spine, as Jaskier’s icy hand pressed against the back of his neck and he lifted his shoulders instinctively. 

“Aha! So you’re not quite as immune to the cold as you always claim!” 

“I am,” Geralt grumbled. “You just surprised me.”

“Uh-huh. Sure,” Jaskier snorted. “You look like a disgruntled cat.”

Geralt growled and bared his teeth in reply. Laughing, Jaskier jumped back, thankfully - regrettably - removing his hand from Geralt’s neck. He evaded Geralt, as he half-heartedly made to snatch Jaskier, spouting nonsense about throwing him in the lake as revenge. 

“Roach, save me!” Jaskier squealed, as he ducked behind the mare, who gave Geralt a decidedly unimpressed look, as if saying ‘really? This is the man you fell in love with?’, but she didn’t move away, when Jaskier pressed his hands against her neck with a dramatic sigh. “Ahh, my dear lady, you are a much better hand-warmer than my husband.”

“Call her a hand-warmer again and she’ll bite you,” Geralt said amused, when Roach swatted at Jaskier with her tail, as if he was a pesky fly and crossed his arms. 

“Nah, she wouldn’t. You love me too much to let anything happen to my hands.” He wiggled his fingers and gave Geralt a boyish grin. Maybe he expected a reply, some teasing or protest, but Geralt was frozen, all words remained stuck in his throat, because yes. By the gods, yes, he loved Jaskier. Hearing him say it, even if only in jest, made something inside him soar. It made him want to say it as well. 

“Besides,” Jaskier continued, evidently unaware of Geralt’s swirling thoughts, “I can pay her back for her services. I promised to write a poem about her, remember?”

Truth be told, Geralt had forgotten all about that promise, but the thought of Jaskier taking the time to write about Roach made his heart beat faster. 

“Let’s hear it then.”

Jaskier cleared his throat, straightened his spine and put on the exaggerated expression of an arrogant poet. When he spoke, his voice took on a serious note that demanded attention.

“The mightiest mare, 

The sturdiest steed

The heroic-est horse

She is indeed. 

Prickly and pretty

and petty is she.

In conclusion: 

The best horse that ever I did see.”

He kept up the haughty expression for another moment, then a grin broke through, when Geralt snorted with laughter. 

“Heroic-est?” Geralt asked with a grin. 

 “‘Most heroic’ didn’t fit the metre,” Jaskier said with a shrug. “If that’s your only criticism, I consider that high praise. This shall be my best work yet.” With exaggerated swagger, he came back to Geralt, spreading his arms dramatically. “It’ll be known far and wide. Lords and ladies will demand that this poem be performed at all their courtly functions.”

Geralt shook his head in amusement. Jaskier was absolutely ridiculous. He loved him so much. 

He came to stand before Geralt and swept down into a low bow. When he came back up, some snowflakes fell from his head. Geralt couldn’t stop himself. Tenderly, he brushed some of the remaining ones that were stuck in Jaskier’s hair away. A small cloud of mist left Jaskier’s lips and when he looked up at Geralt, there were snowflakes clinging to his eye lashes. The playfulness from before was gone, leaving only softness and something fragile and beautiful.  Jaskier’s eyelids fluttered close, but for just a second, Geralt caught something in his eyes. A reflection of movement, where there should be none. 

He whirled around, pushing Jaskier back with one hand and reaching for his sword with the other, just in time to see a hideous beast with spidery legs burst through the surface of the lake. 

Vaguely, he noticed Roach rearing up with a panicked neigh and dashing away, but he had no time to get her to stop. Behind them, the kikimora scuttled out of the lake, pincers clacking and front legs poised to strike. 

Geralt cursed himself as he pushed Jaskier behind him with one hand. He should have noticed the monster before. Fuck, he should have checked the lake for danger before bringing Jaskier here, instead of stupidly trusting that any kikimoras were already in hibernation. He should have known better than to let himself get distracted by hearty laughs and soft looks. 

"What the hell is that?" Jaskier's terrified hiss snapped Geralt to attention. The bard’s hands were clutching his cloak tightly. It was all wrong. He should be running, getting to safety, leaving Geralt. 

But Jaskier had promised to stay by his side. For the first time, Geralt wished desperately that Jaskier would break his vows. But Jaskier stayed. 

"Geralt?" 

At the sound of his voice that had gotten shrill with fear, the kikimora's ugly head snapped around. Its beady eyes fixed on Jaskier. 

For a single heartbeat it stood frozen. Then, its instincts took over. Its feet scratched on the frozen ground as it darted towards them, toppling the lanterns as it did. The fire sizzled and died, but for the briefest second, the kikimora shrunk back, as it touched the hot metal of the lantern. The moment passed too quickly. Spurned on by the rage of having been burned, the kikimora darted forwards with renewed vigour.

And Jaskier still wasn't fucking leaving Geralt's side. 

Geralt pushed him back. His eyes didn't leave the attacking monster, but he could hear a thump as Jaskier's body hit the ground. It took all of his strength not to turn around and make sure he was alright. Gripping his sword tighter, he bolted forwards. As he moved, he formed Igni, heating his blade until it glowed hot red. He swung at the beast with all his might. Had he been on his own, it would have been an easy fight. But he was distracted by worry and the kikimora was furious with starvation from the cold months. It moved with lightning speed, striking Geralt’s wrist with an armoured leg. There was a clang. A jostle went through Geralt’s arm. The pain flared up a second later, but it was nothing compared to the horror twisting his gut, as his grip slipped. In a high arch, his sword was flung from his hand and landed uselessly on the ground.  Geralt darted towards it, but the kikimora blocked his way. He barely dodged the next attack and pulled up a Quen shield. The sudden light confused the monster for but a second. It reared up with an enraged screech. Geralt readied himself to cast another sign, when out of the corner of his eyes, there was a flurry of movement. His golden shield flickered, as his attention snapped to Jaskier. 

Jaskier, who was running past him, with his arms raised up to protect his face. 

“No!” Geralt shouted, a sound so wild that his voice nearly broke. “Get back!”

But Jaskier didn’t listen. Though his face was distorted by fear, he ducked beneath the kikimora’s hacking legs and towards the sword. There was not a heartbeat of hesitation. Jaskier reached for the weapon. As soon as his hand touched the handle, Jaskier let out a pained gasp that shook Geralt to the bones, but he gritted his teeth, refusing to draw his hand back. It took Geralt a second to understand, but when he did, his blood froze. Jaskier wasn’t wearing gloves and unlike Geralt, his skin hadn’t been mutated to withstand heat. And now, Jaskier was holding a scorching hot sword in his bare hands, because Geralt had let himself get disarmed within a single strike.

“Geralt,” he shouted and visibly gathering all his strength, he tossed the sword towards him. Despite his efforts, Jaskier wasn’t strong enough to throw the sword all the way to Geralt. It landed between him and the kikimora, leaving both Geralt and himself weaponless. Geralt could only hope the monster would attack the bigger threat. 

Of course, he wasn’t that lucky.  Startled by the sudden shout, the kikimora turned. Its pincers clacked and one of its piercing legs shot towards Jaskier. 

"No!" the sound ripped from Geralt's throat in pure agony. He flung himself forward, but even as he did so, he knew he would never reach Jaskier in time to push him away. 

The world became a blur. The only thing that mattered was Jaskier's terrified expression. There was movement, as Jaskier brought his hands up to protect his face - 

No. His hands didn't stop there, they went further up, towards the kikimora that suddenly hissed in pain. Something was glinting in Jaskier's grip. Silver and sharp.

With a start, Geralt recognised the weapon. It was the dagger he had given Jaskier as a wedding gift. To protect him when Geralt couldn't. 

Relief and horror battled inside his chest, as he watched Jaskier slash at the kikimora. His movements were frantic and uncoordinated and he was holding the dagger in his non-dominant hand; the other was cradled against his chest.  He clearly had no idea how to fight and the first hit stayed singular. It must have been a lucky strike when the beast hadn't expected its prey to fight back. There was no chance that Jaskier would survive for long if he had to keep fighting on his own. 

But he didn't have to. That first strike had bought Geralt the time to get close enough to pick up the sword. He leaped onto the kikimora's back. With an ugly snarl, he gripped his sword in both hands and thrust downwards. The kikimora buckled beneath him, as the blade pierced the armoured flesh right behind its head. Geralt fought to keep his balance, twisting the sword. 

Finally, the ear piercing screeching stopped and the creature's body collapsed. 

It narrowly missed Jaskier, who saved himself with a quick jump backwards.

For a moment, Geralt remained where he was, irrationally afraid that the kikimora would get back up, if he removed his sword. He waited for any sign of life. But the beast only twitched in response to him moving his blade. Before him, Jaskier was panting and clutching his hands close to his chest. 

"Geralt?" he asked in a small voice and took a staggering step forward. 

And just like that, Geralt could move again. His grip on the sword slackened and he leaped down onto the muddy ground, hastening towards Jaskier. He held his arms wide open and Jaskier didn't waste a single second before flinging himself into Geralt's embrace. 

"That was reckless," Geralt mumbled into Jaskier's hair, as his hand came up to cradle the back of his head. "Reckless and stupid and…" 

The words dried up in his mouth, when he noticed the shivers that shook Jaskier's frame. Quickly, he unwound the scarf from around his neck and put it back around Jaskier’s. 

"We should get back," Geralt said as he pulled away. "You need to get back into the warmth. "

Jaskier nodded mutely. Somehow this silent compliance was the worst of all. Geralt pulled Jaskier’s uninjured hand from his chest and took it, praying that his touch would be grounding for Jaskier. When he turned to where he had left Roach however, his heart dropped once more. Roach hadn’t just staggered away during the fight. She was fully gone. Fled, when Jaskier wouldn’t.

“It’s alright,” Jaskier said weakly, when he saw Geralt’s stony expression. “We’re going to find her. I’m sure she’s alright.”

He sounded so hopeful, so bloody optimistic that Geralt didn’t have the heart to tell him that Roach’s wellbeing for once wasn’t what he was worried about. They had to find Roach, and quickly too, if they wanted to make it back to the keep before the night fully fell. Already, there was barely any daylight left and the snow was no longer simply drifting through the air daintily.

“Let’s go then,” he said and lightly tugged on Jaskier’s hand. 

The one good thing about the snow was that it had started to form a thin layer on the ground, making it easy to spot where Roach had run off to. Geralt let go of Jaskier’s hand, as they began setting off after her at a brisk pace and tucked him against his side instead, doing his best to shield him with his body. Geralt bit back a curse, when he followed the tracks and saw them taking a turn - in the opposite direction of the Keep. He sped up his walk, but with every minute that passed, Jaskier’s feet dragged more on the ground, until he staggered more than he walked. Around them, the woods were getting dark quickly, making it impossible for Jaskier to see where he was going. Bitter wind tore at Geralt’s hair and turned the snowflakes into biting needles that pricked his exposed skin painfully. Next to him, Jaskier lowered his head and pulled his shoulders up, trying in vain to protect his face from the biting cold. The skin of his hand was an angry red. Fuck. In his hurry to find Roach, Geralt had forgotten to pick the damn gloves up again. They needed to get to Roach. Now. 

Growling in frustration, Geralt picked up Jaskier, cradling him against his chest. Like this, he could move faster, but he couldn’t shield Jaskier from the wind as well as he had before. He hoped he would not come to regret that trade off.

He didn’t know for how long he was marching through the woods - too long, that was for certain - before finally, he heard soft snorting not far ahead. Roach.

Geralt sped up. He nearly missed the cave, hidden by trees and overhanging ivy, but the sound of Roach scraping at the ground with her hooves alerted him. He heaved a sigh of relief, when he entered the cave. It was big enough to allow Roach to find shelter at the entrance, only narrowing towards the back. A quick look revealed an old bedroll, crossbow bolts and dry kindling someone had left here. Likely another witcher, who had equipped this cave with the bare essentials, in case he had to seek shelter again. 

Geralt grit his teeth, as outside, the wind howled louder than before. Jaskier stirred weakly in his arms. He had to get him back to the Keep. He wasn’t safe here. But who knew how long it would take them to get back? Geralt couldn’t risk Jaskier’s body cooling down even more by riding with him through the storm. 

Deep breaths. Geralt closed his eyes, doing his best to focus on the beating of his own heart, as if he was meditating. Shutting his emotions down. Not letting himself get distracted. But beneath the layers of numbness he forced around his heart, he wasn’t strong enough to stop a part of himself to vigilantly listen in on Jaskier’s heartbeat. It was steady and strong as ever. Geralt had known it would be. Jaskier might be cold and hurt, but he had not gotten nearly injured enough to be in immediate danger and he was bundled up as warmly as he could be. Still, Geralt’s hands and breath were shaky, as he carefully placed Jaskier on the ground. It was too cold, too damp. Every part of Geralt screamed in protest, when he let go of Jaskier, but he had to. Just long enough to get a fire started. 

Deep breaths. He couldn’t let his mind get clouded by worry and that uncomfortable squirming in his stomach that threatened to take away his ability to act rationally. 

As quickly as he could, Geralt put the kindling into a pile and lit it up. Then, he hurried back to Jaskier’s side. 

“Geralt?” Jaskier asked. His eyes were glassy as he blinked up at him. 

“I’m here.” Carefully, Geralt scooped Jaskier back up and pulled him into his lap, so he wouldn’t have to sit on the cold stone floor. “You’re going to be alright. We just have to wait a little, until the snow eases up.” Jaskier shivered and pressed closer against Geralt, who draped his cloak over him as best he could. Jaskier in turn wrapped his arms around Geralt’s middle to get even closer to his warmth, but as he pressed his hands against Geralt’s shoulder blades, he drew back with a hiss. 

“What’s wrong?” Geralt sat up in alarm. 

“Nothing,” Jaskier said too quickly. His smile that clearly was meant to be reassuring looked brittle, with a flash of pain staining it. He must have noticed Geralt’s disbelief, for he added, “It’s just my hand…”

Immediately, Geralt reached for said hand. He cradled it as gently as if holding a butterfly, yet Jaskier still sucked in a sharp breath. Geralt glanced up at him and was relieved when he found no more pain in his expression than there had been before. Jaskier gave him a brittle smile. Carefully, Geralt turned his hand over. His heart dropped. 

There, across Jaskier’s fingers and palm were angry red blisters. How could he not have noticed just how badly Jaskier had burned himself?

‘You love me too much to let anything happen to my hands.’ The memory of Jaskier’s words echoed cruelly in his mind. 

“We need to get ointment on that,” Geralt said and his voice shook only a little. He was sure no one who didn’t know him in and out would notice. Jaskier’s brows knitted together and Geralt swallowed thickly. “We have some at the infirmary.”

He glanced at the entrance of the cave. At the snow falling steadily still, cast about by the wind that seemed to pick up by the minute. Alone, he might have been able to  make it through that weather. But Jaskier’s hand was so cold in his. His teeth were chattering and the brim of his trousers, where they hadn’t been protected by his cloak, were drenched with snow.

Geralt couldn’t risk exposing him to the elements any more before he was properly warmed up. Subconsciously, he shifted closer to Jaskier, offering him a little more of his own body heat. 

“Well, at least it’ll be no trouble cooling the burn,” Jaskier, who must have read Geralt’s thoughts, joked with the hint of a smile. 

“Ever the optimist,” Geralt replied, unable to keep the fondness out of his voice despite his worry. “One of us has to be. But I don’t think it’s optimism. I just trust you.”

He said it so easily. As if there was no doubt in his mind about it. As if Geralt’s incompetence wasn’t the cause for him getting hurt in the first place. 

A warmth spread through Geralt’s chest, flowing into the rest of his body, until he felt his face heating up. Clearing his throat, he averted his eyes. 

“We’ll need to at lead bandage your hand,” he said. “And keep you warm.”

Jaskier made an affirmative noise. Geralt looked at Roach, mentally itemising the things he had packed. Naturally, bandages hadn’t been included in his preparation for their trip. 

His eyes fell on the red scarf around Jaskier’s neck. Geralt reached for Jaskier’s dagger at his hip and with a harsh movement cut off a long thin stripe of the scarf. It wasn’t ideal, but it had to do. At the very least, it would do the job of warming Jaskier’s hand. 

He moved, so he was kneeling opposite Jaskier and could have a better view of what he was doing. He was so focussed on his task of wrapping Jaskier’s hand, that he didn’t notice how strangely quiet Jaskier had gotten, until he realised that his hand was trembling. 

Gralt stopped. His eyes snapped up to meet Jaskier’s. 

“Are you -”

“Don’t worry,” Jaskier said with a choked laugh. “It’s nothing bad.” Unconvinced, Geralt made a questioning noise. 

“I just…” Jaskier lifted his bandaged hand a little, “the red cloth? It reminded me of our wedding day.”

“A joyful memory to add to an already perfect day,” Geralt snarked. All the sarcasm couldn’t hide the bitterness and hurt he felt. Jaskier had been so excited for today. As he had been for his wedding. And Geralt… no. He had to stop that train of thought. They were friends. Jaskier liked him. This marriage might not be what either one of them had imagined, but it still was good. It was good. 

Jaskier wasn’t the fragile little lordling Geralt had feared him to be. He was so much stronger than he looked and he would get through this too. 

As if to prove Geralt’s thoughts right, a genuine smile stole onto Jaskier’s lips. 

“It is.” Swiftly, he leaned in and let his lips brush against Geralt’s cheek. “There. Now it’s just like then.”

His lips felt icy on Geralt’s skin, but they left a hot tingle in their wake, when he pulled away. A lump formed in Geralt’s throat. His hand rose without his permission and he cupped Jaskier’s cheek. With his thumb, he caressed the freezing skin and felt him shiver beneath his touch. “Dance with me.” The words left his lips before he could think about them. 

Jaskier blinked at him. A small cloud escaped his mouth, as he gasped lightly. 

“What?”

Decades of rejection and fear made Geralt’s courage want to shrivel and hide away. But Jaskier still hadn’t flinched from his touch and would never do so.

“Dance with me,” he repeated slightly louder. “You’re going to freeze if you don’t move. We need to keep you from falling asleep and  warm you up.” He got to his feet and held an inviting hand out for Jaskier to take. “And I never gave you that wedding dance.”

Geralt’s heart fluttered nervously in his chest, as Jaskier stared at his hand. Slowly, like the sun pushing through clouds, Jaskier’s lips stretched into a smile and he placed his uninjured hand in Geralt’s, letting him pull him up. Jaskier’s feet must have been well on their way of falling asleep and the cold was already getting to him, for he stumbled into Geralt’s chest with little grace, only catching himself by placing his other hand on Geralt’s shoulder. He kept the touch of his injured hand light, yet it burned into Geralt, as if he was clutching him tightly. 

Geralt let the hand not holding Jaskier’s slide down to his waist and hold him close. Jaskier’s face was so near to his. The urge to hold Jaskier close was a flame raging through every vein of his body. 

They stood frozen, unmoving. 

“I believe I was promised a dance,” Jaskier whispered, his voice barely audible over the howling of the wind and the cackling of the fire. 

Geralt could do nothing but nod. He took a step back, pulling Jaskier along and began to awkwardly sway them. The movements would have looked clunky even with a band accompanying them, but without any music at all to give them a guiding rhythm, it must have looked utterly ridiculous. The pathetic attempt of a witcher to give something soft. 

But Jaskier was looking up at him, a smile dancing around his lips and in his eyes, and Geralt felt the knot of anxiety unwind in his chest. All would be well. Jaskier was moving and smiling. He would make it through this. 

Geralt’s tongue darted out to wet his lips - a nervous tick he must have picked up from Jaskier - and did what he normally only dared to do after drinking with his brothers: He sang. 

Or rather, he hummed. It was a clumsy attempt. He had never been musically inclined and the wedding seemed so far away now, he barely remembered the tune the wedding band had played. The only thing he remembered was how important the song was. So he did the best to shape the rumble in his chest into the right notes. Jaskier’s eyes widened and his lips parted into a silent ‘oh.’

Geralt stumbled and faltered, but the rising awe in Jaskier’s expression kept him going and after a moment of silent listening, Jaskier joined in. His humming was much steadier than Geralt’s awkward attempt at singing and Geralt did his best to follow his lead. Then, Jaskier’s humming deviated from the melody Geralt had repeated before. Heat and shame rose in Geralt’s cheeks. He hadn’t realised how badly he had hummed the tune, but then he realised that his own notes weren’t dissonant to his husband’s. Jaskier was harmonising. 

Geralt faltered, disguising his misstep as part of the dance and Jaskier followed without hesitation. Geralt swayed them to the side, led his husband through a spin and pulled him back in. Close, so close. His hand wandered from Jaskier’s waist up to rest between his shoulder blades. He could almost imagine feeling the beat of Jaskier’s heart through the thick layers of clothing. 

He didn’t notice coming to a standstill, but then Jaskier placed his head on his shoulder and Geralt wouldn’t have been able to move if he had wanted to. He couldn’t let go of Jaskier anymore, not even for the brief moment it would take for him to twirl. Geralt ran his hand up and down Jaskier’s back. When Jaskier’s hand wandered from his shoulder to the nape of his neck to play idly with his hair, Geralt closed his eyes and let his head fall forward to rest it against the crown of Jaskier’s head. A soft sigh ghosted over his skin as he held Jaskier as close as he could. 

“Thank you,” Jaskier whispered. 

Geralt didn’t know what to reply, so he remained silent, except for the rumble in his chest that he knew Jaskier found so much joy in. The soft sound of Geralt’s contentedness and the fast beat of Jaskier’s heart were the only sounds around. 

Geralt’s brows furrowed. No sound. The wind had stopped howling. His head snapped to the entrance of the cave, where the fire had almost burned down completely. Blinking, he scrutinised the dark world beyond the cave and - it was dark. No more treacherous white was flying through the air, beautiful but deadly. The snowstorm had passed. Geralt left Jaskier’s side to get a better look at the sky. Night had fully fallen and the sky was clear. With a sky like that, it would only get colder, but the stars shone bright, offering comfort. 

The sound of Jaskier’s footsteps followed Geralt, and he pressed himself against his side, seeking warmth once again. Geralt laid an arm around his shoulders and rubbed his arm. 

“We can leave,” he said, trying to put as much optimism into his voice as he could. “Do you think you can ride? It’s going to be cold.”

“I can,” Jaskier replied confidently, though Geralt couldn’t help but notice the slightest tremor in his voice. 

“I’ll keep you warm,” he promised. 

Jaskier nodded, but trepidation stole itself onto his face.

“I know this mountain is your home,” he began slowly, his injured hand picking at the red cloth, “but are you sure it’s safe to leave in this dark? What if Roach stumbles or slips on the snow? I don’t even know where we are anymore. It all looks so different cast in white…”

“It does,” Geralt agreed. Jaskier’s face fell and his eyes dropped to the ground, as he likely prepared himself for a night of freezing in the cave after all. 

“But there’s one thing that hasn’t changed.” Geralt cupped his chin and tentatively tilted his face back up, first to meet his eyes and then farther up still. “Do you see it?”

“What?” Jaskier asked automatically as he squinted up into the night sky. Geralt could see the moment he realised what Geralt was talking about. “Oh.” His eyes softened. “There it is. Our secret constellation.”

“We’ll follow it home,” Geralt said, and something melted in his chest, when Jaskier echoed tenderly, “Home.”

--

The ride back to the Keep wasn’t a pleasant one. Geralt did his best to shield Jaskier against the cold with his body and distract him from the pain in his hand by recounting any tales that came to mind. More than once did he feel Jaskier go limp, as sleep threatened to take him into its embrace and Geralt felt a pang of guilt each time he had to jostle him awake again. 

“Soon,” he would whisper. “We’ll be there soon. Stay awake for me a little longer.” “Alright,” Jaskier would mumble, “for you.”

Then, without fail, Jaskier would sit up straighter and his head would tilt up - his eyes fixed on their constellation. The stars above the path leading them home. 

By the time Kaer Morhen’s gates came into view, Jaskier’s head had found its home against Geralt’s chest and his eyes were drooping again. Still, he fought valiantly to keep his promise and stay awake. 

Geralt spurned Roach on one last time. When they finally passed the gate, it felt as if a heavy stone sat in his chest was crumbling to dust. They had made it. Jaskier was truly safe again. 

Geralt hurried to put Roach in her box in the stables and despite Jaskier’s protests that he could walk, he picked him up and carried him into the Keep. He only took a quick detour to get the ointment to treat burns from the infirmary and apply it to Jaskier’s palm, before rebandaging it. Then, he picked up Jaskier again. His mind was filled with images of holding Jaskier close at night, safe and sound in his arms. Those images were the only thing giving him the strength to keep going and climb the stairs to their room. 

Perhaps it was the fact that Geralt had accompanied Jaskier to his room so many times that it felt like second nature at this point, or maybe he simply let himself be lulled to inattention by the familiar home-scent of Jaskier; whatever it was, it made Geralt forget with every step he took, that it was Jaskier’s room and not theirs until he got fully lost in his comforting fantasy.  It was only when he pushed the door open with his shoulder and laid eyes on the room that held no trace of Geralt ever having spent a single night here, that the realisation crashed into him like a bucket of ice water. This wasn’t theirs. He had no place in Jaskier’s bed.

His instinct told him to drop Jaskier off quickly and retreat, but he forced his body to move gently, slowly, as he undressed Jaskier and helped him put on dry clothes to sleep in. Then, he placed Jaskier on the bed and pulled the blankets over him and snuffed out the candles he had lit upon entering.

“Now you can sleep,” he whispered into the darkness of the room, running his hand soothingly over Jaskier’s head.

Jaskier blinked up at him and narrowed his eyes. Geralt reckoned he tried and failed to make out more than Geralt’s general shape in the dark. “Geralt?” he asked quietly and reached out blindly. 

Geralt caught his hand mid-air and clinging to the last remnants of that foolish inattentiveness that had made him forget that he wouldn’t spend the night holding his husband close, he pressed a kiss against his palm. 

“You’re safe.” He rubbed a small circle into the back of Jaskier’s hand with his thumb. “Goodnight, Jaskier.” There was a long pause, in which Geralt started to believe that maybe Jaskier had fallen asleep already, before Jaskier replied, “Goodnight.”

With that, he pulled his hand from Geralt’s grasp and turned away, pulling the blanket so high up that Geralt could barely see his face anymore. He hesitated, taking in the sight of Jaskier snuggled up warm and cosy and safe - and so clearly dismissive of him - one last time. Then, he turned around, pulling the door close as quietly as he could. The walk back to his own room had never felt that long, lonely and cold. 

Jaskier is safe, he repeated over and over in his mind, nothing else matters. 

Only, it did. It fucking mattered, because Jaskier had lit lanterns around a lake. Because he had caught snowflakes with his tongue and laughed as though nothing in the world could make him happier than sharing that moment with Geralt. Because Geralt’s cheek still tingled where Jaskier had kissed it and because Geralt wished he’d had the courage to dance with Jaskier during their wedding. It mattered, because Geralt wore a bracelet Jaskier had made for him. 

It mattered, because with every fibre of his being, Geralt loved Jaskier. 

And it mattered, because when he entered his room, it was cold and empty. 

His movements felt wooden and reluctant, as he made himself walk over to his bed and put on his sleeping clothes. He let himself fall onto the bed heavily but even as he sat down and finally rested his feet, he knew his mind and heart would know no rest that night. With a deep sigh, he slumped forward, put his elbows on his knees and burrowed his hands in his hair. He closed his eyes, but only images of the day, of dancing and laughing and Jaskier trusting him so wholly, flashed through the darkness. When he opened his eyes again, they landed on the parchment that had been laying on his nightstand for the past months. Ever since he had gotten word of the engagement. Despite knowing exactly what he would find, he reached for the parchment and looked at it. Jaskier’s smiling face looked back at him. Geralt’s heart clenched painfully, as he traced the laughter lines around the drawing’s eyes with a gentle finger. In the past months, he had come to know those lines perhaps more intimately than anyone else. Certainly more than he had ever imagined he would. He knew how Jaskier sounded when he laughed, how he felt leaning into Geralt or holding onto him because he had to physically share his joy, how he looked so utterly radiant with his lips stretched wide and his head thrown back. 

He knew that no painting in the world, no matter how masterfully done, could ever come close to the real thing. Geralt could look at this drawing before going to sleep however many times he wished - it would make no difference. It was no substitute for holding Jaskier in his arms. 

He didn’t think. For once, maybe his mind and his heart would have told him to do the same thing anyway. Without wasting another moment, Geralt got up and crossed his room. It was stupid. If there was any mercy, Jaskier would already be deep within the realm of dreams by now. Yet, Geralt didn’t stop. He had to go see him. He had to tell him. Jaskier deserved that much. He deserved to know that he was loved.

Geralt was just stepping out of the door, when something came crashing right into him and tumbled back with an indignant little squeak. A very familiar sound. 

“Jaskier?” Geralt asked, perplexed, all thoughts of his intentions wiped away by the unexpected sight of Jaskier standing in his doorway. “Geralt!”

“What are you doing out of bed?” Geralt took Jaskier’s shoulders gently and looked him over intently for any signs of hurt or fright. “Did you have a nightmare? Is there anything you need?”

“No - that is, yes. Actually. There is something.” Jaskier started fidgeting with his bandage. “Could I maybe come in?”

“Of course.” Geralt took a step to the side and Jaskier slipped into his room. Geralt occupied himself with lighting some candles so Jaskier could see, but in truth, he simply needed the time to get his racing heart back under control. When he finally felt ready to face Jaskier again, he found him looking at the portrait of himself, a strange expression on his face. 

“Ah,” Geralt said awkwardly, “That…came with the letter your parents sent us. To arrange the engagement.”

Jaskier’s lips quirked up a little and he slung his arms around himself. Geralt desperately wanted to wrap his own arms around him, but if Jaskier had sought him out after the day he just had, he must be truly distressed and Geralt wasn’t sure how to act. 

“I never got a picture of you,” Jaskier said. 

“Oh.” He swallowed. “So, the first time you learned what I looked like was…”

“Just before our wedding. Yes.”

“That’s…” Geralt trailed off, not sure how to end the sentence. A part of him that clung to learned behaviours wanted to apologise, but a different part saw the warmth of affection  in Jaskier’s eyes. 

He cleared his throat. “What is it you need?”

Jaskier’s brows shot up and his mouth opened into a little ‘oh’ as if he had forgotten the purpose of his seeking Geralt out. “I - I suppose I just didn’t want to be alone.” Jaskier furrowed his brows. “No, that’s not it. I wanted to be with you. For tonight. If that’s alright.”

“It is,” Geralt blurted out immediately and his heart jumped, when that elicited an actual smile from Jaskier. “I want to have you with me tonight too.”

He wanted to have him by his side every night and every day for the rest of his life. His entire being longed to share his bed, his Path, his world with Jaskier. The flutter in his chest got stronger, when Jaskier pulled back the furs on Geralt’s bed to get in. It was so perfect. So much like what Geralt wished for, what he had selfishly dreamed of in the solace of his lonely nights.

A sudden pang of guilt shot through him and  before he could stop himself, he blurted out, “Wait. There’s something you should know first.”

Jaskier dropped the fur. “What is it?”

“I -” Geralt’s throat went dry. His tongue felt too heavy in his mouth and it was as if he had forgotten every word he had ever known. How could he tell his husband he loved him? How, when longing and fear had been at war inside him for so long that it felt impossible to end the fight now. 

But Jaskier had come to him. Over and over he had chosen him. It was time Geralt did the same.

“I never made my wedding vows. To love and cherish you,” Geralt said finally, the words feeling inadequate and rough, “But I made you another promise. To tell you if I ever did fall in love. And I am. In love. It’s terrifying and - and beautiful and I don’t think I could fight it if I wanted to. I don’t want to. Not anymore.”

A guarded expression crossed Jaskier’s face, but beneath it, Geralt thought he could see hope. He clung to that slither of hope with the desperation of a drowning man. With the faith of a man in love. 

“Do I have your permission, Jaskier?” He stepped closer, slowly at  first, then with more confidence, when Jaskier gravitated towards him as well. Geralt took Jaskier’s uninjured hand and pressed it against his chest, right above his heart that beat to the rhythm of Jaskier’s song. “Do I have your permission to love you?”

“Geralt -” Jaskier broke off, his voice too choked to speak. 

“You don’t have to love me back. I - it would be enough to love you.”

“No,” Jaskier said firmly. 

Something broke inside Geralt and a gaping whole opened up where his heart had just beaten with hope. He averted his eyes and pressed his lips together. He gave Jaskier a court nod, as he took a step back. But Jaskier refused to let go. 

“No, that would not be enough,” Jaskier said, pulling Geralt back in. “Because I love you, Geralt. I love you.” 

“You do?” Geralt’s eyes widened. “I - I had hoped, but I didn’t think -”

“Stop thinking then,” Jaskier interrupted him. “I think we’ve done far too much of that. It didn’t do us any good.”

Geralt’s lips tilted up. “It didn’t.” He twisted his hand to weave his fingers with Jaskier’s, linking them together. It felt right. So right to finally do this  and have Jaskier know what it meant. 

“Jaskier,” he asked tentatively. “I know I don’t know how to do this right, but…may I court you?”

“What?” A startled  laugh tumbled from Jaskier’s lips. 

“May I court you?” Geralt repeated, looking Jaskier in the eyes and doing his best to show his sincerity. 

“Geralt, I don’t know how to tell you this, but we’re already married.”

“I know,” Geralt said, feeling the corners of his mouth quirk up in response to Jaskier’s laugh. “Gods, believe me I know. But what we have isn’t a real marriage. I want to be with you for real. I don’t want to hold you and always know that we are only married on paper. We didn’t say our vows, I refused to dance with you, we didn’t kiss. You deserve better. You deserve a real wedding. This is not whatI want or what you deserve. I don’t just want a marriage based on politics and without the promise of…”

“Devotion?” Jaskier tilted his head to the side and gave Geralt’s hands a squeeze. “I can make you that promise right now, if you want. I gave it to you so many times over and you didn’t even notice.”

“I noticed,” Geralt said. “I just…”

“I know.” Jaskier looked down at their joined hands. “Me too.” “I want to do this right,” Geralt said. “I wasted so much time going about this the wrong way. You deserve to be courted. You deserve - lights and flowers and…and…”

“A husband who loves me?” Jaskier offered. “And whom I love? Because I believe I already have that.”

“I want to give more to you. I don’t want to rush this. Being with me isn’t easy. The Path is harsh and life with me will be hard. I want you to know this - really know this. Give me a year of courting you, of showing you my life, before you decide if you want it to be your life as well.”

Jaskier looked at him for a long time. “I don’t think my opinion will change, but yes.” A choked sound escaped his lips, as they stretched into a brilliant smile. “Yes, I want to be courted by you. I want to be with you in whichever way you want.”

He didn’t wait for Geralt’s reply, simply flinging himself into his arms. Geralt held him tightly, so tightly. His heart felt like it was beating out of his chest and he couldn’t have stopped himself from smiling wide as a fool, if he had wanted to. Maybe he was a fool. But he was a fool in love, with the one who held his affections in his arms. 

Jaskier’s slim frame shook and Geralt worried that he was sobbing, until he recognised the muffled sounds against his chest as laughter. He hummed questioningly, making Jaskier giggle only more.

“So, does this mean we should get a divorce?” Jaskier asked, pulling away just enough to be able to look at Geralt. “So we can court again?” He jabbed a finger at Geralt’s chest. “Because if so, then I change my mind. I refuse to be divorced. I quite like being your husband.”

Geralt snorted. “I quite like it too.  And I don’t think our families would be too happy about having their contract nullified.”

“Right,” Jaskier said, pulling a face. “Bureaucracy. What a romantic topic to bring up. So, no divorce then? We just continue as we have but without all the -” he waved his hand through the air, “not-talking-about-feelings?”

“Sounds perfect.” Geralt paused. “Maybe we could also change the sleeping arrangements?” 

“Please!”

Without waiting another second, Geralt scooped Jaskier up. His heart skipped a beat, when Jaskier let out a delighted little squeal and wrapped his arms around Geralt’s neck to steady himself. 

“Is this really necessary?” Jaskier said in between giggles. “The bed is right there. I could have walked three steps.” “It is,” Geralt said firmly, something soft coiling in his stomach. “Maybe I just like holding you close.”

“How convenient then, that I just so happen to like being held by you.” One of Jaskier’s hands left Geralt’s neck to cup his cheek instead. “Something tells me that we could make great husbands.”

“I think you might be right. I’d love to find out what we are like being husbands with purpose.” 

“So do I.”

“But courting first.”

Jaskier heaved a heavy sigh, but gave Geralt a fond look. Geralt was loath to part from Jaskier for even a heartbeat, so as soon as he laid him down on the bed, he got in right next to him and put an arm around his waist, pulling him closer. They fit perfectly together. He felt the rest of the stress of the past months fall away as he melted against Jaskier. His husband. The man he loved and would court. Jaskier, in turn snuggled as close to Geralt as possible, his hand tracing random patterns on his chest. 

“There’s one more thing I want to change,” Geralt whispered. 

“Hm?”

“I know this should probably not happen before the courting comes to an end but…can I kiss you?”

“Geralt!” Jaskier gasped in mock-affront, his eyes crinkling at the sides, as he failed to hold in his laughter. “Are you seriously asking me - your lawfully wedded husband! - to share a bed with you and kiss you? Unchaperoned? How scandalous!”

Geralt rolled his eyes fondly at Jaskier’s antics. “Is that a ‘yes’, then?”

Jaskier’s giggles quieted down and an expression of pure softness and open love replaced the amusement. 

“It’s a yes,” he whispered back and leaned forwards, closing the space between them. The kiss was chaste and over quickly, yet Geralt could not imagine a more perfect kiss. 

Except, of course, as he drifted off to sleep with Jaskier curled up against him, his mind was already wandering to the future. To flowers and song and, if he was lucky - and something told him that for once, he would be - another kiss from his husband on their second wedding.

—

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#arranged marriage #geraskier #geraltxjaskier #geralt #jaskier #witcher #fic #fanfic #my writing

[simonstamenovic]

sorry. 5 million asks upon you whenever you wake up but unfortunately im on the grind playing. so the vocal stim was what i thought it was, but it requires some context bc she is so silly and funny to me. so cohlune had asked shalvas hey. go find some nuts for me in the forest. theyre VERY important to curing this disease. and so shalvas does and brings them back. muefell is curious about them so cohlune encourages her to take a look at them and she just. eats them all. (which honestly. very funny of her. i respect it) which is why shes saying that bc it tastes similar to the food. both cohlune and shalvas are like oh. 😶 she ate all of them okay. neither of them are upset about it (in terms of getting mad at her) but i wanted to give the context. it is kind of crazy to me how you saying that cohlune is similar to jaskier because the more i think about it, the more similar shalvas is to geralt in like. a few specific ways. cohlune later asks shalvas to get smth else for him and shalvas is SO upset abt his effort being wasted that hes just like this time, go gather it yourself. their dynamic is so funny bc shalvas is normally like. not super impolite but towards cohlune he seems to trust him (like he doesn't trust this other guy, but as SOON as cohlune is like oh hes telling the truth, shalvas is like oh ok.) but is also like yeah i will be fed up with you.

in terms of other updates. muefell loving danger and going big wet eyes mode at cohlune works VERY often but not when he knows she will be in active danger. he really really cares about her a lot. ill just copy paste what i wrote for summarizing this section here (sorry this is so obscenely long. you WILL learn about cohlune and muefell its important). for a bit of context, ikauipe is at war rn and also being plagued with the disease so its well. not good for her.

"Muefell enters the room, and Cohlune asks her why she has such a big backpack. She just simply says, “Ikuaipe, let’s go.” Shalvas asks if she plans on following him and she says yes. Cohlune tells her no, as Ikuaipe is currently at war and is in a frenzy. She is silent, and as Cohlune attempts to explain why, he stops because she is looking at him in a sad manner. He asks for her to not look at him like that, but puts his foot down, saying that this time it’s definitely not okay for her to go, and if she goes, he will be upset. She is silent for a while before asking for a souvenir and Cohlune agrees to it, saying that’s a cheap option and tells Shalvas that that’s about it. Shalvas asks why this is happening and Cohlune asks for him to please stand up for him. Everyone is silent for a while before Shalvas admits he can’t help it and asks what she wants. She says that friends are better and asks for him to bring her a friend. Shalvas is confused by what she means by friends, and Cohlune explains that if there is a creature he can find, he would like for him to catch it, with Muefell confirming that is what she meant. Mistos is surprised, as he didn’t know that Shalvas had become such good friends with Muefell. Shalvas asks if it seems that they (him and Muefell) get along well and Mistos says that he can see it. Shalvas still seems a bit unsure though."

it kind of kills me that shalvas is like? really? we're friends (autism trait soooo much to me personally) and also kills me that she wants friends. like god i think she is genuinely so isolated w how her parents dont seem to be around her a lot and it seems like cohlune is the only person she really opened up to before shalvas (cohlune even says that hes surprised she CAN open up when she starts being nicer to shalvas)

I think I love everything about this

also massively curious abt the characters for muefell... jst mueheru or something else ?

#ask.exe #JST WOKE UP NO COHERENT THOUGHT BUT. CUTE. #volfoss #also japanese is rusty its been a decade n some big identity bullshit this seems like a feat godspeed

[hudine]

Still don’t have a name for this fic. Will put on AO3 when I got one. Anyone got any ideas for a name feel free suggest them.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

60 years later

Jules was in the human realm again for the first time since the sacking. He had wanted to go home long before now but his mother wouldn’t let him out of her sight at court. He became an adult by fae standards ten years ago but that didn’t mean his mother couldn’t find other means to keep him from leaving. Eventually though he got hold of a lute, some bard clothes, snuck back into the human realm and took up the name Jaskier to make it harder to find him. He’s been wondering the continent as a traveling bard trying to hear anything he can about what was left of the wolf school ever since.

Finding out knowledge of any Witchers yet alone a particular guild of them was easier said than done. In the past year he’s only managed to find two, one viper and one cat. He didn’t get much out of either of them but the viper and cat schools got never along the with the wolf school in the first place so it wasn’t that surprising.

He was going to give it a few more months then actually pluck up the nerve to go back home to Kaer Morhen and see what is left and go from there. Right about now Jaskier wishes he didn’t put such a good anti tracking spell on the medallions or he could find anyone he wanted. The majority of those who where out on the path during the sacking wore medallions he had enchanted in the first place so it wouldn’t have been hard otherwise.

He was playing in a small tavern at the edge of the world in the town of Posada when it happened. Jaskier was playing a set that was pretty much designed to get food thrown at him so he wouldn’t have to pay for lunch. Also he didn’t want to stand out so he didn’t want to showcase his true talents. Then seemingly out of nowhere Geralt of fucking Rivia unexpectedly walked in and took a seat in the back corner where no one would see him. The bard almost missed a note in shock. So knowing how literal minded his old friend was he started singing in metaphors using monsters that don’t exist or at least shouldn’t exist.

He finished his song and on queue got bread thrown at him. He started muttering at the crowed as he stuffed bread rolls in his pockets. He looked up to see Geralt hadn’t bothered to even look up at the spectacle. Didn’t surprise him much. He had enchanted the medallions to ignore his magic so he could get up to magical mischief as a child and Geralt always had been particularly resistant to magic even for a Witcher. It’s why Reidrich singled him out for his ‘experiment’.

The fae stood up, took a tankard from a passing barmaid, had a drink to brace himself and walked up to Geralt. “I love the way you just sit in the corner and brood.”

“I’m here to drink alone,” Geralt replied not even looking up.

“Good. Yea, good.” Jaskier ignored the Witcher and sat down across from him. “No one else hesitated to comment on the quality of my performance… except for you. Come on. You don’t want to keep a man with bread in his pants waiting. You must have some review for me. Three words or less.”

“They don’t exist.”

“What?”

“The creatures in your song, they don’t exist.”

“And you apparently still wouldn’t know a metaphor if it bit you in the ass Geralt.”

Geralt really looked at him for the first time, brow furrowed. “Do I know you?”

“Gee thanks. Nice to know I’m that forgettable. It’s been sixty years I know, but I hadn’t been able to get away from my mother until now. She had guards watching me and a tracking spell for when I slipped the guards. She was convinced if I came back here to see what was left of Kaer Morhen I’d be killed. Took me finally reaching age of majority and another ten years of court responsibilities she made up, before I managed to slip the leash. Anyone asks, my name is Jaskier and I’m a perfectly normal human bard, thank you very much. Really don’t want to be dragged back there. Court is boring.”

It took a moment for Geralt’s brain to catch up with the rambling and put it together. “Jules? You’re supposed to be dead.”

“I got out. Managed to make a portal and took the children with me to the fae realm along with Birman and Deglan who dragged my unconscious father along with them.”

“Vesemir said he was the only one left alive in the keep. Does he know?”

“Considering he shoved me through my own portal when I tried to talk sense into him about coming with me, yea. I would have jumped right back through there and dragged his ass back through with me but I hit my head on the other side and got knocked out. So Vesemir is still alive?”

“For now. Might be a different story when I get back to Kaer Morhen and have a ‘talk’ about him letting me think you’re dead for the past sixty years.”

“Don’t be too hard on him. He was probably just covering for our escape, didn’t want any rumours any of the mages made it out. The brotherhood was behind everything. Saw some of their council members, not just mages, among those attacking.”

They got interrupted as a farmer walked up to the table. “Excuse me… master Witcher. I need your help. I have coin. A devil has been stealing from our grain stores.”

“A devil?” Geralt asked sceptically.

“Well I don’t know what else to call it. It looks like a goat that can run on two legs.”

“And it’s been stealing from your grain stores?”

“Yes. I have a hundred and fifty crowns for you to go take a look.”

“Alright. You coming Jules?” Geralt asked as he got up.

“Sure. Maybe I can write a song about it or something, Eric,” Jaskier replied, getting up and following.

“Don’t call me that,” Geralt snarled annoyedly at Jaskier.

Jaskier haven grown up around Witchers, didn’t find it in the least bit intimidating. “Don’t call me Jules and I’ll not call you Eric.”

“Fine, Jaskier. What kind of name is that anyway?” Geralt asked as they left of the tavern.

“A whimsical one like you’d expect a bard to have. Also kinda fae, it being a plant name and all. They’re weeds. Hardy, will grow anywhere, near impossible to get rid of, and poisonous,” Jaskier proclaimed proudly.

“Hm. Put that way, very you,” Geralt replied as he got Roach out of the stable.

They walked out of town a bit before Jaskier couldn’t help asking, “Isn’t that one of the horses I grassed?”

“Her name is Roach.”

“And she lets you ride her? I remember most those horses becoming like demonic hell spawn afterwards…”

“Took a while but she trusts me. She makes a good Witcher horse; fast, lots of stamina, isn’t afraid of pretty much anything, won’t let anyone steal her. She’s also older than me and still going. Why did you grass horses anyway?”

“Oh. They had me practice on animals before they let me preform the trail of grasses on a person. I take it you haven’t come across the rats… those sneaky little bastards are why they decided we should move on to bigger animals who can’t hide as easily.”

“Rats? Is that why we have a colony of half feral mutant cats?”

“I only grassed two… to catch the rats. How was I to know the cats could still have kittens afterwards? Most creatures mutate so much they’re not compatible with the same species anymore and renders them infertile,” Jaskier explained exasperatedly.

“What happened the people you escaped with?”

“They decided to start over. Got the fae to take them to a new part of this sphere far from the continent. After all it’s not just here that has a monster problem. They’re thriving last update I had, and far away from the influence of the brotherhood. People actually look up to Witchers there and don’t have the superstitious beliefs about them so less die each year because of humans.”

Geralt had a far away look for a moment. “Must be nice.”

“I could take you there.”

“Maybe… someday. I can’t just abandon those that are left here.”

“How many are left?”

“The number dwindles every winter. Last count there where about twenty that came to Kaer Mohen to winter, not all of them wolves. There are also a few stuck in wolf form who live in the woods around Kaer Morhen. We’ve tried to help them but nothing seems to work.”

“I can change them back. I turned Varin into a giant chicken once because he was being an asshole. So transforming them back to their Witcher state shouldn’t be a problem. The problem is if they’ll stay that way. Might be that they’re not stuck. Might be that they’ve grown tired of life on the path and decided they’re better off as wolves. Seen it happen a time or two. Usually from the mistreatment they get from humans. I could quite happily do some really horrible things to whoever started the rumour that Witchers don’t have feelings.”

“They’re supposed to have been burned out of us during the trails.”

Jaskier actually smacked Geralt upside the head. “Don’t. That’s a load of nonsense. Actually if anything emotions are heightened because believe it or not that is a sense and all senses are heightened. You feel things more intensely than humans. Sometimes though it gets stuck inside and they get trapped where you’re unsure how to express them or are too overwhelmed to do so. Makes it hard to speak for some too. Of course the cats are the only ones who openly admit this. The rest of you all pretend otherwise because of a toxic culture that sprang up long before I was around. You think you had it bad as a kid? It was a lot worse in the past. Most the outright abusive ‘training’ was stopped.”

“I find it hard to believe with Witchers like Varin training us.”

“They used to all be like him… except Vesemir. He was always fair from everything I heard. Varin was just an asshole they had to confine to the keep and had to give him something to do while there. He learned not to mess with me though. The chicken incident just being the last in a long line of shit I did to him when he was being an ass.

“Actually I was the reason a lot of it got stopped. The mages never paid much attention to how they trained new Witchers until Vesemir decided I was old enough to be put in training with them. They where horrified by the shear number of boys who died before the grasses just because they hadn’t been fed enough, or exposed too long to the cold, or beaten for no good reason. Dad didn’t believe me at first when I told him about it, so I went to Dagobert, then Reidrich. Eventually I made enough of a fuss with them they checked it out, watching through magical means.

“They pretty much unanimously told Rennes they where leaving if they didn’t stop all of that. He came up with some bullshit excuse about selecting the toughest of the boys. Then my father informed him that there is nothing tough about surviving all that, mostly just luck. They wanted healthy boys for the trails and if they stop killing them off maybe they’d have more pass and their low success rate probably has everything to do with malnutrition. He wasn’t wrong about that. That was just part of the puzzle though. The rest was in quantity of elder blood, freely given, and different mutagens, and a touch of original genetics. If you have some elven or fae in you you’re more likely to make it. Or some chaos.”

“Like Eskel. He’s always been good with signs.”

“It’s also how I was able to teach him how to do some minor magic like glamours. Same with you. Actually you got more raw chaos than Eskel. Just Eskel has better control of his,” Jaskier proclaims to Geralt who just looks sceptically at him, “It’s true. I’ve had a closer look at both of your magical cores than most. I did the grasses on you twice, and the dreams on Eskel. Did my best to make sure you both maintained access to it. Hence why you both can do more than signs. I’m just surprised you both still talked to me after, yet alone became my friends.”

“If you didn’t do it one of the others would have. You where also known for being gentler about it than the others, actually trying to dull the pain, and had the highest success rate. It’s why I begged you to do my second round of grasses. Never trusted Reidrich. Besides you may have been one of the mages officially by the time I came along, but you where always one of us. You didn’t hold yourself above us lowly Witchers unlike Reidrich or Dagobert. Your father wasn’t so bad either, if a bit scatterbrained. But you Jules, you ran the walls with us as punishment like the rest of us when we got in trouble. Got stuck in the middle of whatever childish mischief that was being planned. Protected us from people like Varin. I’m also convinced you’re responsible for most of Vesemir’s grey hair. After all I can quite reliably say you’re responsible for my own hair going white.”

“It really wasn’t supposed to do that.”

“Relax it’s a joke. I have been known to make those on occasion. I got used to it a long time ago.”

“You joke? Actually you’re communicating in more than grunts. Are you ok? You haven’t been cursed with gift of the gab or something?” Jaskier asked sarcastically.

“Hmn,” Geralt grunted also sarcastically.

“Now that’s more like the Witcher I know and love,” Jaskier replied, grinning.

@xxx|}::::::::::::::::::::> <::::::::::::::::::::{|xxx@

#the witcher #jaskier #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt of rivia #joey batey #henry cavill #fanfiction #needs a name #seriously taking all suggestions for fic names #fae!jaskier #wip

[moonlightpirate]

Inkpot Gods Chapter 2

Its finally here! Sorry for the delay guys! This chapter is what happens while you and Jaskier wait for Geralt and Yennefer and part of this is based on this moodboard by @sweetpeapod master list post here for chapter one ao3 link here

You woke up groggy and uncertain where you were, your last memory was of Jaskier telling to you about how he met Geralt. You look around wondering where Jaskier was. Gasping, you clutch your side as the pain reminds you of your recent injury. 

"Oh, good you're awake, I was getting worried." You heard Jaskier say. 

The ground beneath you was damp and hard. You could hear what sounded like waves. It looked like you may be in a cave but you had no idea where Jaskier was.

"Jaskier?! Where are we? What happened? Where are you?"

He appeared by your side faster than you expected, "You passed out before we got here. This is a safe spot that Geralt showed me a while back. It's sort of like a cave, but it's really well hidden. I'll show you when you're healed." Jaskier helped you to sit up and he put a gentle hand on your side where he had attempted to bandage your injury over your dress, "I didn't want to pry, so I just tried to wrap the wounds so they would hopefully start to heal. How are you feeling?". 

"I'm not sure. It still hurts." You take some of the bandages off, "looks like I've stopped bleeding at least. How long was I out?"

"About a day, I just cooked up some fish. I have some bread, if you're hungry that is."

"I'm so hungry, thank you." You smile up at him. 

His face lights up as he grabs the food, and sets it on a makeshift plate in front of you. You eat faster than usual, as the smell of the food makes you realize how hungry you are. After you finish, you both sit together in silence, unsure of what to say. 

"How long should we wait for Geralt? Or for Yennefer?" You finally inquire. 

"Honestly, I'm not sure. I figure I'll give it a week, maybe less, depending on how you are feeling." He looks at you with such care on his face. 

You smile at him and nod, still feeling anxious about being here. 

"Also, how are we going to trust them? My parents are convinced it's a shapeshifter that is after me. Do you have any questions you could ask them to confirm their identity?"

Jaskier pondered the question for a moment, "I think so. But please get some rest so you can heal."

Three days pass, and you finally feel healed enough to step outside the cave area to see just how concealed it was. It wasn't far from a beachy area, allowing you and Jaskier to work together to catch some fish to eat. You knew more about plants than he did, and found some edible berries, and other plants to add more than just fish and bread to your diets. To be safe, the two of you didn't really light a fire, especially at night. The cold made cuddling close to Jaskier a necessity, to borrow his body heat.

"You know, I promised to teach you how to sword fight. If we don't hear from Geralt, and decide to leave, it may not hurt for me to show you some moves. Especially since I don't think I'm quite strong enough to save us both in a worst case scenario."

Jaskiers face lit up at the proposal, "Yes, I would quite like that. May help me out some in the future."

"You mean as the sandpiper right?" You ask, you had heard your mother talking about the Sandpiper months ago, and now wondered if it was Jaskier she was talking about.

"How do you know about that?", he inquired looking at you first in shock then looking down at the floor sheepishly, "Honestly, it really is just a title. It's nothing that great." Jaksier blushes.

"Nothing great? You've been saving elves who are being tortured! It truly is a great thing that you are doing. Honestly, I just guessed. I heard my mother say that the sandpiper was someone close to Geralt, so I had a feeling it was you."

You both look at each other for a moment. It's obvious Jaskier is a bit nervous now that you know who he is. You gently place a hand on his shoulder, to show him some comfort.

After a bit, you finally decide to lie down. You were uncertain how much longer it was after you fell asleep, that you felt him lay down next to you, and pull you close to him. You blushed and tried to make it seem as though you were still asleep, as you enjoyed the feeling of his strong arms around you. Oh how you wished this moment would last forever.

The next day after breakfast you started to show Jaskier how best to wield a sword. 

After a few hours of practicing, Jaskier heard you laughing and sighed, "What am I doing wrong now?"

"That's not a good stance, or a good way to hold a sword. Here, let me show you."

You walk up to Jaskier, and gently use your hands to move his arms into a better position, and use your foot to guide his legs into a strong stance. Jaskier closed his eyes, he couldn't deny that your touch felt amazing on his skin. 

"How's that feeling?" You smile, stepping back and admiring his stance. 

"To be honest, it feels weird."

"Try taking a few hits on that tree there. You'll see what I mean." You laugh.

With one fluid motion, Jaskier hits the tree with the sword, and gasps in shock as he makes a dent in the wood.

"Yes! See? Now take a step back, and do it again." You cheer. 

You spent the next two days perfecting his sword skills. At the end of the second day, you decided to fake a fight, so he could get the feel of fighting someone else. Of course, between the injury on your side, and to make him feel better about himself, you definitely didn't use your whole strength against him. 

"What is going on here?" A female voice inquired. 

"Oh Yennefer thank goodness where's Geralt?" Jaskier asked, dropping the sword. 

"He's not here with you guys?"

"Do you see him anywhere?" You reply sarcastically. 

Yennefer shot you an evil glare before looking back at Jaskier. 

"I need to go find him. You are both safer here, unless the fighting I saw you doing wasn't a good sign."

"I was showing him how to sword fight so he can defend himself! Let us come with you to find Geralt!" You shout at her. 

"No! I barely even want to leave Jaskier with you! Someone needs to go check on Geralt and it will be better if it's just me rather than all of us."

You glare at Yennefer. She was definitely hiding something from you. Before you can say anything, a man appears behind her.

"No one needs to come looking for me. I am here."

It was Geralt. You look at Jaskier and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Remember to ask him the question, this could be an imposter." You whispered to him. 

Jaskier nodded, "Geralt it's great to see you! But before we continue this reunion, to be safe, I have a question for you."

"Hmm?" Geralt grunted, looking annoyed. 

"So, when you first met me in Posada, what did you tell me you smelled like?" Jaskier inquired with a sly grin on his face. 

"Really Jaskier?" Geralt sighed, " It probably was onions." 

"Yennefer the first time I met you after you healed me, what were the lyrics I sang to you?"

Yennefer rolled her eyes, "Toss a coin to your witcher, oh valley of penis."

"Perfect, you both passed the test!"

"Where are my father and mother?!" You shout. 

"I am exhausted from the battle, and I need to rest. Then you can ask questions." Geralt grumbled pushing past you and Jaskier, into the cave.

You look at Jaskier, and then Yennefer, feeling hurt and worried. Yennefer just nodded her head to acknowledge she knew your concerns, and made her way into the cave behind Geralt.

You collapse to the ground trying to hold back your tears, as the fear of your parents being dead hit you. Jaskier gently knelt on the ground next to you, putting his arm around you in an attempt to comfort you.

A few days passed and Geralt still wouldn't give you a straight answer about what happened to your family. Yennefer seemed to also do everything she could to keep you and Jaskier apart. Did she know about the prophecy? Was she trying to prevent it? You weren't sure, but right now all you felt was the rising anger in you.

#jaskier #the witcher netflix #jaskier x y/n #jaskier x reader #jaskier x you #geralt of rivia #yennefer #hiding #sword fight #reader insert #sorry if it's bad

[ghostinthelibrarywrites]

Knot On My Watch

My second fic for @witchersummercamp! You can either read it below the cut or on AO3.

Prompt: Heat

Pairing: Geralt/Jaskier

Rating: E

Words: 2K

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics; a lot of mercenaries dying violently

Summary: When a band of trained killers think they can get the best of Geralt while he’s holed up in Jaskier’s Oxenfurt townhouse for his heat, they’re in for a rude surprise. So is Jaskier, who—knotted deep inside his lover—has no choice but to cling onto Geralt’s back and hold on for dear life once the swords come out.

There are only four places on the Continent where Geralt can let his guard down enough to be knotted—Kaer Morhen, the Temple of Melitele’s heat rooms, Yennefer’s cottage in Vengerberg, and Jaskier’s faculty lodgings in Oxenfurt.

Before Jaskier—and later Yennefer—came into his life, his summer heats were miserable affairs. Lambert, the only other Wolf School omega there’s been in Geralt’s lifetime, has a winter heat, the lucky bastard. He spends his heats warm and safe in Kaer Morhen, knotted by Eskel or Coën. 

But for Geralt, heats were once spent holed up in abandoned shacks or caves and hoping that his hands wouldn’t be too slippery to grab his sword if something hungry—be it man or monster—was drawn by the scent of an omega in heat. Eventually, he made a deal with Nenneke that he could hole up in one of the Temple of Melitele’s heat rooms, sometimes with the company of a whore from the local brothel or a willing priestess, but usually with nothing but a wooden knot to satisfy him.

But he hasn’t spent a heat alone in nearly twenty years, not since that first summer traveling with Jaskier when his heat hit nearly a month early and he had no choice but to hole up in a cabin with the irritating, overeager alpha bard that had been stuck to him like a wyvern’s barbed tail for months. 

Jaskier’s technique has improved significantly after twenty years spent together. For one, he almost always manages to make it inside Geralt before he pops a knot.

Right now, Geralt can feel the knot swelling inside him as Jaskier fucks into him, his chest hair tickling Geralt’s sweat-slicked back. They’re about twelve hours into Geralt’s heat, long enough that they’re both sticky and sweaty. It’s a hot, muggy night in Oxenfurt and the room is oppressively warm, despite the window they’ve cracked open to let in a nonexistent breeze. But Geralt is too drunk on the pleasure of having Jaskier deep inside him, his lover’s lips on his neck and one hand stroking through his hair, to give a damn right now.

“Geralt,” Jaskier gasps. “Oh, love, you feel so fucking perfect. Gods.”

Geralt huffs a laugh. Even after all these years, Jaskier still acts like he’s never been inside an omega before every time they fuck.

“Don’t laugh at me.” But there’s no real ire in Jaskier’s words. “You wouldn’t laugh if you could feel what it’s like to be inside you.”

Geralt clenches down on Jaskier and is rewarded by a throaty moan as Jaskier comes. His knot swells inside Geralt, anchoring him as he starts to feel his own pleasure build in his lower belly. Despite reaching his own satisfaction, Jaskier continues to thrust, his knot rubbing deliciously against that sensitive spot inside Geralt. Jaskier’s hand wraps around Geralt’s cock as his lips find the long-healed mating bite over Geralt’s pulse point and Geralt groans as he grinds into the tight circle of Jaskier’s fist.

The creak of a floorboard in the hallway stops him mid-thrust.

“Geralt?” Jaskier’s voice is hazy with pleasure. “You alright, love?”

Geralt’s witcher senses are muddled from heat, but he forces himself to listen. Shani has stopped by a few times with food, pitchers of water, and cool cloths, but that’s not Shani’s heartbeat in the hallway. Nor would Shani show up with six friends.

“Geralt?” Jaskier asks again, and this time there’s real concern there. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

Jaskier’s knot won’t go down for at least another ten minutes. If there are seven intruders inside the house, then they don’t have another ten minutes. They didn’t even bother locking the door; there didn’t seem to be a need. This close to Oxenfurt’s campus, they thought they were safe. They always have been here.

“Wrap your legs around my waist.” Geralt keeps his voice low. “And hang on.”

“Hang on?” Jaskier hisses. “What do you—”

The door flies open, ricocheting off the wall. Geralt rolls to avoid the crossbow bolt fired at them, taking a shrieking Jaskier with him. The bolt embeds itself in the headboard right behind where Jaskier’s head just was. Jaskier curses colorfully, his arms and legs wrapping around Geralt and clinging for dear life, as Geralt snatches his steel sword from where it’s leaning against the wall. Geralt dodges another crossbow bolt, whirling to face their attackers.

There are seven of them, mostly alphas with a couple of betas scattered among their ranks, all armed to the teeth. Trained mercenaries, Geralt can tell from a glance. This isn’t an angry group of townspeople with a grudge against witchers or a ranting group of Eternal Fire acolytes. These are trained killers who probably thought that Geralt would be less dangerous in the midst of his heat.

“Geralt!” Jaskier shrieks as the mercenary with the crossbow fires again. Geralt knocks the bolt from the air with a flick of his sword.

“Hold on tight, Jask,” Geralt says and moves.

A man holding an enormous ax rushes at him, weapon held aloft. Geralt parries the blow and runs him through with a sickening squelch.

“Geralt, this is a Metinnan rug!” Jaskier moans.

Geralt ignores him, sending a blast of Aard at the archer. The man’s crossbow releases as he sails backwards against the wall, hitting one of his fellows in the throat. His unfortunate victim falls with a gurgle. 

“On your left!” Jaskier shrieks, his fingers digging into Geralt’s too-sensitive chest painfully.

Geralt grimaces as he sidesteps the tiny, wicked-looking dagger one of the mercenaries throws at him. “Watch what you’re grabbing onto.”

“Ah, sorry.” Jaskier pats him apologetically, then cries out. “Sword! Lots of swords!”

Two men with swords, both burly alphas, come rushing at Jaskier and Geralt. One aims for Geralt’s belly. The other has his eyes fixed on Jaskier. Geralt leaps back, out of the way of the sword aiming for him, and decapitates the mercenary focused on Jaskier. The other attacker shouts with rage, throwing himself at Geralt. He’s a big man, even taller and broader than Geralt and without the haze of heat dulling his senses—and without a bard clinging to his back like a barnacle.

“Geralt!” Up until now, Jaskier’s scent has been mostly shock and a little anger. For the first time, it fills with the bitter scent of fear. “Crossbow!”

Geralt looks over to see that the archer has regained his footing and has his crossbow pointed squarely at them. Seizing the big alpha by the beard, he yanks the man towards him. The bolt hits the alpha in the shoulder and he howls with pain. Geralt slits his throat, holding him like a shield as another bolt whistles through the air. Jaskier lets out a cry.

“What’s wrong?” Frantically, Geralt twists to see Jaskier the best he can. The scent of blood and pain is so heavy in the air that he can’t tell if any is Jaskier’s. The archer shouldn’t have been able to hit Jaskier at that angle, but if he missed a second crossbow—

“He shot my curtains!” Jaskier moans. “Geralt, they were brand new. I had them imported from—”

“Jaskier, I do not give a fuck about your curtains.”

The archer shoots another bolt and a vase shatters. Jaskier makes a noise like he was the one shot.

“That was my grandmother’s!”

Geralt doesn’t mention that Jaskier was so pleased when he learned that his grandmother died that he nearly bankrupted them buying drinks for an entire tavern. Instead, he drops the corpse in his arms and rushes at the archer. It’s a risky move, but the crossbow is the most dangerous in the room; he needs to neutralize it. At the sight of an angry witcher rushing at him, the archer fumbles reloading his crossbow. It’s that fumble that gives Geralt the time he needs to bring his sword down on the weapon, splintering it and severing the man’s hand. As the archer howls in pain, Geralt decapitates him.

“That was for my vase, you son of a whore!” Jaskier shouts. “And my curtains!”

Geralt turns on their remaining two attackers, breathing hard. He’s sure he’s a sight right now, naked as the day he was born, covered in their compatriots’ blood, with a screeching alpha clinging to his back. He smiles his nastiest smile as he takes a step towards them.

“You leave now and you can live,” he tells them. “I’d rather get back to what I was doing.”

The men glance at each other. One is a wiry, balding beta with a dagger in each hand. The other is a burly alpha with a broadsword. “We’re not leaving without your head, witcher whore,” the alpha says as two more men appear in the doorway.

Fuck.

Jaskier’s grip on Geralt tightens as all four attackers rush him at the same time. Geralt meets them with a growl of rage. He dodges and parries, his focus solely on keeping Jaskier out of the range of any blades. The wiry beta catches Geralt on the bicep with one of his daggers and Geralt grunts in pain, driving his sword into the man’s chest.

Jaskier tugs on his hair frantically. “On your left!”

“I’m not a horse, Jaskier.” Geralt jerks his blade from the beta’s chest and turns in time to meet the alpha’s broadsword. He didn’t have time to properly brace himself as he’s driven backwards a step. He’s aware of one of their remaining attackers circling behind him, in range of Jaskier, and he feels his first true surge of fear. He can’t turn around without opening themself both up to a strike from the broadsword-wielding alpha. But if he doesn’t turn around, Jaskier will be easy prey.

There’s the thunk of metal meeting flesh, but the grunt of pain isn’t Jaskier’s.

“Ha! Take that, you pox-ridden jackass!”

Geralt chances a glance over his shoulder to see that Jaskier has grabbed a candelabra and is waving it around wildly. He managed to get his attacker in the nose; the man is clutching his bloody face. He swings wildly as the broadsword-wielding alpha, who ducks back. Geralt takes advantage of the slip in the alpha’s defenses to run him through. He turns in time to see the man whose nose Jaskier broke lunging at him and buries his sword into the man’s eye. 

The corpse hasn’t even hit the floor before the surviving mercenary is sprinting for the door. Geralt lets him go. Let the fucker spread word of what happens to those who come after Geralt’s mate. Let him make sure that whoever hired these fuckers is never able to find someone else to take the contract, because they’ll know that Geralt is just as dangerous in heat as any other day.

“Fuck,” Jaskier says, letting the candelabra thunk to the ground.

Geralt grunts an agreement, looking around at the carnage. Jaskier’s bedroom is filled with bodies, the Metinnan rug soaked and the walls splattered with blood.

“Are you hurt?” Jaskier pats his cheek.

“Just a few scratches. You?”

“Not a single scratch.” Jaskier presses a kiss to the shell of his ear. “You took good care of me, love.”

“Don’t I always?”

“You do.” Jaskier sighs. “You know, when I said I’d be open to trying knifeplay someday, this is not what I had in mind. I pictured less brain matter on the curtains.”

“Improves the curtains.”

“You take that back, witcher!”

Geralt feels Jaskier’s cock finally slip out of him, come dribbling down his thigh. It reminds him of the ache of heat inside of him, still not fully satisfied. Now that the adrenaline of the fight is fading, there’s nothing to distract him.

Jaskier slides off Geralt’s back, groaning when his feet hit the blood-soaked carpet. “Well, that was excellent teamwork, Geralt. Honestly, I don’t think you could have done all that without me. Perhaps I should forge some armor for myself and take up witchering.”

Geralt, who remembers the days when Jaskier still fainted at the sight of a blood and is a little surprised he’s not fainting or vomiting right now, makes a noncommittal noise.

Jaskier glances downwards. “Darling, not that I’m not delighted to see it, but how are you still aroused after all of that?”

Geralt also looks down and sees that his cock is still fully hard and his thighs damp with slick. “My heat doesn’t care about armed assassins.”

Jaskier tips his head back and guffaws. “Remind me to incorporate that into my next song. The White Wolf’s mighty sword doesn’t flag in the face of any foe.”

“Bard, I will kill you.”

“Not until your heat is done, you won’t.” With a wink, Jaskier starts to gather up the piles of bedding off the bed.

“What are you doing?” Geralt asks.

“Well, this room is an utter disaster. There’s no fixing that. You’re going to need to buy me a new rug and new curtains. Possibly a new house. But in the meantime, we may as well pick this up in the other room. What kind of alpha would I be if I let my omega’s heat go unsatisfied?”

“Hm.” Geralt glances down at the closest corpse. “We might want to figure out who sent them. Or at least which one of us they were here to kill.”

“That can wait until tomorrow, or maybe the day after. We should probably close the windows though. Don’t want the bodies to attract flies.” With his armful of bedding, Jaskier starts towards the bedroom door, stepping carefully around corpses. “Come on, Geralt, it’s a beautiful night for a life-affirming fuck.”

Geralt thinks about arguing, but he can still feel the need pulsing inside him and he has a perfect view of Jaskier’s cute little ass and strong legs right now, which is more compelling than any point he could make.

“You’re the strangest alpha I’ve ever met,” he says as he goes to close the window.

From the doorway, Jaskier grins over his shoulder. “And you’re the strangest omega I’ve ever met. Isn’t it lucky we found each other?”

Geralt hums in agreement and follows Jaskier from the room, closing the door on the bodies littering the ground. Jaskier is right; they can deal with that in the morning. For now, Geralt has a heat to finish in peace.

***

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Tag list: @kueble @mollymawkwrites @feral-jaskier @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde @dawnofbards @thisislisa @mosaicscale @tsukiwolf42 @rockysstupidity @fontegagrilledcheese @kuripon @help-i-need-a-cool-username @julek

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt/jaskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #alpha/beta/omega verse #ghost's fic #ghost's writing #witcher summer camp 2022

[ikeepwatchinghelicopters]

How about Jaskier who is not entirely human but doesn't know about it? Like, his mother had a brief tryst with some kind of fae/creature (I don't feel like doing research rn to find out what would fit best) and she has to hide it from Jaskier's father, so right after birth (or maybe even during the pregnancy), she has a witch cast a strong spell on Jaskier to make him appear 100% human. She never tells anyone about the spell and kills (or something less drastic) all the maids that were present during the birth. And Jaskier indeed looks human, but he kept some of his supernatural nature, so he likes and does different things than a typical human. Maybe he has very strong likes/dislikes for certain foods, erratic sleep schedule, infinite fascination with pretty, shiny things which have zero practical use, and he loves sharing. Like, him stealing someone's shirt of their food is a show of trust and affection. It just feels natural for Jaskier to express his love that way. However, the humans don't see it like that and they take him for a misbehaving brat. His nannies get mad when he begs them to go outside and see the moon in the middle of the night. His parents get furious when he tries to steal food from their plates, because that is now how a noble son should behave at dinner. His teachers mark him down as stupid when he always gets distracted by the pretty colours of the light coming through the stained glass instead of listening to their lessons. When he's older, he also discovers that sex is not as great as everyone makes it out to be. Sure, it's physically pleasing, but he feels no deep connection or anything. He doesn't need to have sex, he'd much rather just cuddle, thank you very much.

So, he learns early that he's different and that is not good, because he usually gets scolded or punished for things that feel natural to him. So, he puts on an act and perfects it. Always hiding to conform. Even at Oxenfurt, where he feels much more free than in his parents' house, he keeps most of his masks. Though he gets to drop some (like he no longer has to pretend that he's sleeping peacefully through every night) and it feels good.

And then he starts travelling with Geralt. I like to imagine that Geralt would notice Jaskier's not entirely human pretty early on (even though his medallion wouldn't react to the spell, because it's so old and thouroughly interwoven with Jaskier), because Geralt is not stupid, but he doesn't say anything, because Jaskier never brings it up. He accepts Jaskier's not typical behaviour better than any human ever did, partly because he knows that some of it is just natural to Jaskier and it would be idiotic to try to fight it, and partly because all of Jaskier seems weird and annoying to him (at least at first), so it's not like he really needs to call out particular habits (maybe he's even more accepting of Jaskier drinking his ale than Jaskier constantly making noise). And Jaskier cannot believe it at first. When he slips up and does something humans would consider weird, he cringes and apologises and feels embarrassed. And Geralt can't really understand why he'd be apologising, so he just tells him it's fine. And Jaskier feels that spark of hope that maybe Geralt doesn't really mind. Sometimes, Jaskier is so tired of hiding. He slowly starts testing the waters with Geralt slowly, slowly letting more of his masks slip and always waiting to be told that it's too much and that he's too weird. But Geralt never tells him that.

One time (probably after they reunite after the mountain and Geralt gets unconstipated enough to give Jaskier a proper apology and explanation) Geralt mentions that Jaskier is not human and the bard is absolutely baffled, because why wouldn't he be a human?? And that's how Geralt discovers that Jaskier actually doesn't know. Yennefer's also around and she confirms that Jaskier's indeed only partly human (she'd known since the djinn). He needs some time to deal with that revelation. He also asks Yennefer is she could get rid of the spell that's hiding his true form. Yenn manages to do it because she's BAMF, but probably complains how Jaskier and Geralt would never understand how difficult and complex it is to undo such an old spell. Anyway, I didn't give Jaskier's appearance much thought, but I imagine he'd have pointy ears. Yenn then makes a charm (like a necklace) which makes Jaskier look human, but now he has a choice whether he wants to hide or not.

As for his music, maybe he's more attracted to music and sounds due to his supernatural nature, but all his skills and success come from his hard work. He's not supernaturally good at any instrument instantly just because his biological father wasn't human. But maybe in his non-human form, he can use a very weak compulsion or something similar. Like, normally he can make his audience sad with a sad song, but in his non-human form, he can make them even more sad (and every single one of them gets affected even though they probably wouldn't normally). He mostly uses this ability to help Ciri fall asleep (he's like a Jigglypuff when he sings lullabies, lol). Also, he gets longer lifespan than a regular human (he'll live to be at least 150 years old). He does age, just more slowly.

#the witcher #jaskier #geralt of rivia #geraskier #fic idea #i guess #i hope this doesn't come out as acephobic or offensive in any way #because it's definitely not supposed to be #also #sorry if there are lots of fics like this out there already #the idea feels a little bit basic #random cliché thought #i might actually write this one sometime in a very distant and vague future #who knows? #also also #sorry for the long post

[fandom-junk-drawer]

The Witcher Headcanon (Modern AU) - Food

Witchers were known for being tough. For being able to survive conditions a normal human would not be able to. Witchers were stronger, more resilient, resistant to disease, and able to heal faster than humans.

Their bodies were altered to survive on little food, water, and sleep, and to be able to metabolize the poisons they drank to fight. It was very hard to poison a Witcher. They were made to keep going.

Geralt was no exception. When he was on the Path, he could drive for days without proper sleep (sometimes no sleep), and he would only stop for food when he absolutely had to.

Before he started living with Yennefer and Jaskier, it was just him, alone, so he didn't really worry too much about eating and sleeping regularly. He could eat what he wanted, when he wanted, which, admittently was usually a sandwich or microwave item from a gas station. And only when he had enough money after buying fuel.

But then he met Jaskier, and things changed. He aquired an old van so Jaskier wouldn't have to sleep in the dirt on the side of the road, or crammed in the small truck Geralt had been driving. He had to stop more often so Jaskier could eat, or get a decent amount of sleep.

Geralt was a little annoyed at first. He wasn't used to stopping so often. He was a 'We aren't stopping until we get there' kind of guy, but now he had a fragile human to keep alive, so he grudgingly started making regular stops so Jaskier could get something to eat.

Gas stations became unacceptable food sources after a janky sandwich left Jaskier violently ill. Jaskier convinced Geralt (between bouts of vomiting) that eating (real, safe food) regularly was a good thing. Just because he could survive on little food (or suspicious gas station food), didn't mean it was a healthy thing to do.

"Why shouldn't Witchers eat well, Geralt? Why shouldn't they get a decent amount of sleep and take care of themselves?"

"Hm,"

"Because they're Witchers? That's a sh*t argument, Geralt."

"You keep your swords in excellent shape. You make sure they are clean, sharp, and in good repair. You should do the same for your body."

"Hmm."

Geralt thought about it, and admitted to himself that Jaskier was correct. Some of his contracts would not have been nearly as hard if he had been well rested and had been eating better.

He started making sure that he and Jaskier ate regular meals. If it was a quick stop, he made sure it was food from a deli, or other reputable place with actual sanitary food handling standards.

Although sometimes all they could get was questionable gas station food.

Jaskier *holding up two sandwiches*: "Geralt, would you like explosive diarrhea or projectile vomiting?"

Geralt: " I'll take the projectile vomiting."

And then he met Yennefer, and they decided to move in with Jaskier at his house in Oxenfurt.

At first Geralt stuck to his old habits of eating only when he was really hungry and he absolutely had to eat.

He started keeping a small hoard of food in his room. He couldn't really explain why. It was mostly bags of beef jerky, crisps, and granola bars. There were also a few honey buns sprinkled in.

He got over it after Yennefer caught him trying to replenish his hoard.

"Are you actually hoarding food? Like a f***ing hamster?"

"We have food, Geralt! And don't think I haven't noticed you not eating properly!"

"Well, maybe if you would f***ing eat with us three times a day you wouldn't be hungry."

You're supposed to eat three meals every day, you plank! And eat real food, not this junk!"

"You aren't on the Path, and even when you are, you don't have to worry about money for food, so you don't have to starve yourself."

You can keep your snack hoard, but you're going to join Jaskier and I for every meal, or there will be consequences. Do you hear me, Geralt? Consequences!"

"And give me one of those honey buns, I love those things."

Thus, after a brief adjustment period, Geralt got used to the idea of eating regularly. It was odd, sitting down to three full meals every day. He had been so used to being hungry all the time, that it was strange to...not be.

After a few months of eating well, Geralt noticed that his hair and skin looked better too. And then he noticed something else.

He was stood in front of the mirror in his room, studying his reflection. He turned this way and that, and looked at how his usually very well-defined muscles where kind of...soft looking.

Geralt had been concerned and mentioned it to Yennefer. The witch had rolled her eyes and told him he was being silly.

"You aren't supposed to look like a shrink wrapped string of footballs, Geralt. Normal people have a layer of fat under their skin that is supposed to be there!"

"Hm!"

"A Dad Bod? That's not a Dad Bod! And even if it was, so what? What's wrong with a Dad Bod?"

"Hmmm!"

"Oh, for f**k's sake! You aren't overweight, you muppet! You finally don't look like a starving wolf! Good gods, those don't even count as love handles!"

"Hm..."

"Stop being ridiculous! You aren't supposed to look like you've been vacuum sealed. That's just an unhealthy body standard pushed by idiots and morons."

Geralt wasn't terribly convinced at first, but he eventually realized that Yennefer was right. He decided he liked this new body. He noticed that he had more energy, fighting monsters was easier, he was recovering from toxicity more quickly, and he just overall felt so much better.

He did end up with a Dad Bod after putting on some extra weight over the winter when there was nothing much to do but sit around or go to friends and family for holiday celebrations with lots of food.

Geralt got to experience his first food coma that winter. They had gone to Madeleine's house for the winter solstice. She and Yennefer had made lots of food. Geralt had passed out on Madeleine's couch, with crumbs on his shirt front, gravy on his cheek, and his belt and the button on his pants undone to make room for his overly full belly.

More than a few comemorative photos had been taken while he'd slept.

He was self-concious after gaining the extra weight, but Yennefer and Jaskier never made fun of him, or made any derogatory comments. They never commented at all about his love handles, or the extra padding on his belly, which was kind of starting to loom over his waistband. In fact, they seemed to like this 'squishy' Geralt.

They were constanly huggng him, or snuggling up with him on the couch while they watched the telly. Sometimes they even made him lay on the floor and used him as their personal heated cushion.

There was just something comfortable and nice about a soft, warm Witcher belly! It was better than any old pillow or couch cushion.

Sometimes they even fought over who was going to get first pick of what part of him they were going to cuddle.

"You got to put your head on his pillowy boobs last time, Yen!"

"Yeah, well you got to sleep with your face in his tiddies for months!"

"That doesn't count, Yennefer! I was dealing with a traumatic event! I couldn't even enjoy it! And they weren't even this cushy!"

"Tough sh*t, f**kwit, it still counts!"

"It does not, you a**waffle!"

Geralt ended the argument by grabbing both of them and smashing their faces into his tits. The surprised yelps quickly turned into muffled giggles.

When the weather warmed up, turning back into Spring, Geralt spent a little time off the Path, getting himself back into shape. He set up a little workout area outside in the backyard, and put it to good use every day, unknowingly giving their elderly neighbor lady a nice little show.

#the witcher #the witcher headcanon #the witcher modern au #the witcher netflix #twn #geralt #geralt of rivia #yennefer #yennefer of vengerberg #jaskier #julian alfred pankratz #geraskier #geraskefer #geraskifer #yenskier #yennskier #yennaskier #yenneskier #food headcanon

[a-case-of-attachment]

Rating: T

Pairings: Geralt x Jaskier

Warnings: people treating Witchers like dirt ~ protective Jaskier ~ swearing ~ mentions of blood and injuries

The Lover ->

<- The Hunter

Geralt gritted his jaw, hands curling into fists on the bar top as he tried to keep his anger in check but it was getting hard and harder with every word that was coming out of the inn keeper’s mouth. “We ain’t got room for your kind freak,” he spat out, arms folded across his chest and looking at Geralt like he was the scum of the earth.

Geralt was used to this or he had been used to it but travelling with Jaskier had made him soft, these sort of things happening so rarely now that he had almost forgotten that so many people still hated his kind. Almost but places like this reminded him quick enough. Jaskier wasn’t with him now, had gone running back to the countess de Stael just after the incident with the djinn with nothing more than an enthusiastic wave as he practically ran towards her awaiting carriage they had come across by chance and a promise to meet again soon but that had been months ago.

Not that Geralt cared.

It was better without the bard’s constant noise and habit of finding trouble when there shouldn’t even be any. It wasn’t like the silence was grating on him or that on the long and lonely days he missed Jaskier’s warm and ever optimistic presence or that he had started to talk to Roach more just to fill the silence. Geralt was doing fine on his own but in situations like this Jaskier and his flamboyant way of talking would have come in useful for once. He had a way with words that could either end up with him getting exactly what he wanted or a punch in the teeth. Either way he would probably have better luck then Geralt currently was.

He was tired, covered in monster guts and swamp water and had a gouge on his side that needed cleaning and then probably stitches. Geralt knew he looked a mess, like the monster people often called him but he had just freed the villagers of a Kikimore infestation that he had already been underpaid for by the alderman and his patience was beginning to wear thin. He didn’t want much just a hot bath and something to eat and drink. Sure a warm and dry place to sleep would have been a welcomed luxury but he would settle for the bath and food but the inn keeper wouldn’t even give him that.

“I just want…” he started but was cut off by the sound of several chairs scrapping across the floor, the gentle mummer of chatter dying. “You heard him freak, we ain’t got room for the likes of you here”. Geralt sighed at the gruff voice, able to tell that at least three men stood behind him. They all reeked of drink and anger, ready for a fight that Geralt didn’t want to have.

Resigned to his fate Geralt pushed away from the bar, mumbling a quiet thank you to the inn keeper as he went. He could feel everyone’s eyes on him as he left, hunching his shoulders and curling in on himself in an attempt to make himself seem smaller. He really wasn’t in the mood for a fight or to be chased from the town whilst being pelted with rocks so he would go quietly, using this as a good reminder as to why he shouldn’t let how Jaskier was with him cloud his judgment of other people.

Feeling dejected and stupid for it Geralt made his way back to the stable where he had left Roach. He had already paid for her lodging for the night but he didn’t want to have to come back for her in the morning and risk getting stoned for it. It was a shame, she could do with a good nights rest as much as he could but these things happen and thankfully the stable hand had already fed her. She wasn’t happy about it, huffing and nudging Geralt in the shoulder but she is a good horse and with a slight tug on her reigns she follows after him.

“That’s it girl. Next time I promise we’ll stay all night,” he mumbles, stroking down her snout as he leads her down the road and back towards the woods. It’s a lie, a promise he couldn’t keep and they both knew it, Roach huffing and nudging his shoulder again. This part of the continent wasn’t very friendly to Witcher’s though and Geralt doubted they would have any better luck at the neighbouring villages in the next few days.

That was fine.

He would manage.

Like always.

“Geralt?” He stopped at the familiar voice, head snapping up and in the direction it had come from. There in the middle of the dirt road stood Jaskier. The confusion on his face quickly morphed into excitement and even in the dark of night Geralt could see his blue eyes lighting up. “GERALT!” he exclaims loudly, throwing his arms wide and before Geralt really knew what was happening Jaskier was pulling him into a hug, arms squeezing tightly and patting him on the back.

Geralt grunted, not even having time to react before Jaskier was pulling away, clasping Geralt by the shoulders and smiling widely. “It has been to long my friend,” Jaskier beamed. “Not your friend,” he grunted back automatically, so used to giving that response after all these years despite it no longer being true. Jakier waved him off, stepping back and still smiling brightly as if he hadn’t heard Geralt. “Are you just on your way out or in my dearest Witcher? In I would assume looking like that but it doesn’t matter, regardless of what one it is I insist you join me for a drink. I simply must know what you have been up to these last few months,” Jaskier took Roche’s reigns he spoke, leading the mere back towards the stables they had just come from, the horse gladly following after him at the prospect of getting to return to the warmth and comfort she had been taken from.

“I don’t think…” Geralt started to protest, following behind the bard and eyes darting around the darkened streets, looking for any sign of villagers who would want chase him off with pitchforks and torches. “I simply must insist Geralt,” Jaskier cut him off as they walked back into the stables and towards the bemused stable hand. “You back already?” he grunted, eyeing them suspiciously. Jaskier looked between the two of them, frowning slightly before realisation seemed to dawn on him but Geralt would put money on him not coming to the correct conclusion.

“No rooms left at the inn?” he asked as he passed Roach off to the stable hand along with a couple of coins. Geralt would have told Jaskier not to bother, that Roach’s stay had already been paid for but the boy snatched the money up quickly and was leading the horse away before he could, only just giving Geralt enough time to slip his saddle bags off before she was gone. “No,” he growled, glaring at Jaskier but it didn’t seem to bother him.

Technically Geralt hadn’t lied. There had been no room for him at the inn, even if there had been empty rooms available.

“No bother. I already have a room and you my friend could do with a nice hot bath and something to eat, my treat for killing whatever it is that you are covered in,” Jaskier wrinkled up his nose in disgust as he gestured to Geralt, already on his way out of the stable and back up the road towards the inn. Geralt should say something, should warn the bard that he wasn’t welcomed here and he might find himself out on his ass for bring Geralt back with him but he was tired and sore and he had a small flicker of hope that Jaskier would do what he does best and use his face words to confuse the simple locals and get Geralt into his room without too much trouble.

Geralt trailed after Jaskier, listening to the man ramble on about how the countess had once again left him but this time it had been in Jaskier’s best interest because her cousin had shown up not long before his departure and the man had wandering hands that always seemed to have a fondness for Jaskier’s pert bottom, as the bard so eloquently put it. Geralt just grunted, barely listening to the words as he gripped his bags and tried to make himself look as small as he could.

Jaskier was still talking when he pushed the inn’s door open, the whole room going quiet when Geralt stepped through the door but Jaskier didn’t seem to notice, strutting right up to the bar and leaning against it, smiling brightly up at the man who was scowling at Geralt. “Evening kind sir, I would like a bath please and two bowls of hot stew sent up to my room along with two cups of your finest ale,” he tipped his head back slightly, his bright eyes finally looking up at the inn keeper, only for his smile to fall when he noticed the look on his face. “I’ll tell you the same thing I told ‘im-” he jerked his head towards Geralt, his scowl deepening, “-we ain’t got room for his kind”.

Jaskier stood up straighter, his frown deepening as he looked around the room and taking in the hostility that was directed all at Geralt. “Right,” he mumbled, something dark flashing behind his eyes as his frown twisted. Geralt knew that look, it was he same look he got every time someone insulted Geralt or implied he was less simply because he was a Witcher. It also normally ended up with him getting in a bar fight and Geralt was too tired to take on the ten men that filled the tavern.

‘Jask,” he sighed, every intention of telling him not to worry, that Geralt was fine but like always Jaskier was quicker with his words than Geralt would ever be. “Do you not require coin to run this establishment?” Jaskier turned his cold blue eyes back to the inn keeper, his voice just as cold and seemingly taking the man by surprise. “Yes but,” Jaskier cuts him off, talking over whatever he was going to say but Geralt suspected it would have been a slur on him and his kind. “And do you not rely on the patronage of passing travellers like myself and my friend to earn said coin?” Geralt could feel the tension in the room, could smell the anger and fear but just at the edges something else was starting to creep in, people already shifting in their sets as if they knew where Jaskier was going with his little rant.

The man crossed his arms over his chest, his beady eyes narrowing at Jaskier as he grunted his response, “what is your point bard?” Jaskier smiled slightly, something soft yet some how full of mischief that wouldn’t be out of place when he was in the middle of playing one of his more risqué little ditties. It seemed out of place here where no one was singing along, full of alcohol and joyous in spirit. “I don’t know if you know this but I’m quite famous, wrote a popular little ditty called Toss A Coin, maybe you have heard of it?” Jaskier paused for effect, his eyes sweeping across the room and taking in the uncomfortable look on more than a couple of the men’s faces. So that forsaken song had even made its way to this hell hole.

“It’s quite amazing the power a simple little song can have, so imagine the damage that could be done to an already nameless little shit hole that is nothing more that a mud stain on a map if a song started to circulate about how unwelcoming and vile the people there are. I hate to imagine how quickly said town would fall into ruin, wouldn’t you?” Jaskier said it all with a light and friendly voice, as if he was having a conversation about the weather with an old friend but his eyes stayed cold and angry, fixed on the inn keeper and almost daring him to assume Jaskier was lying about his prowess.

The smell in the room changed once more, anger spiking but the rancid smell of fear began to grow. Towns like this relied heavily on passing trade, selling their wears and skills to those who passed. Its what got them through the long and harsh winters, what kept their families fed and safe and Jaskier was threatening that safety, their livelihoods and all in the name of Geralt’s honour. Sometimes he thought that Jaskier was wrong in the head, making unnecessary enemies because they didn’t treat Geralt how Jaskier thought he should be treated but it also brought a warmth to his chest, his heart beating just that little bit faster for a second or two. Jaskier cared enough to defend him, wanted Geralt to have the luxury of walking the Path and not having to fear he would be turned away or chased by an angry mob. He wanted people to see Geralt how he saw him, a hero, a defender, a person and he wouldn’t settle for anything else.

“What do you want bard?” the inn keeper gritted out between clenched teeth, looking at Jaskier like he wished him dead. Jaskier smiled brightly, his cold anger disappearing as he went back to his normal, cheery self. “As I was saying, my friend here as kindly just rid you of a…” Jaskier looked at Geralt expectantly. “Kikimore,” he grunted, rolling his shoulders and standing a little straighter now that he could feel things shifting in his favour. “A Kikimore, how ghastly. How lucky of you poor, defenceless people that a helpful Witcher come along and got rid of the vile beast before it could eat you all,” he raised his voice, letting it carry across the room and his eyes quickly flickering around the room. The men shifted, an unease settling on them that Geralt would liken it to guilt if he thought the men of this town had it in them to feel anything other than contempt towards him.

“After all that hard and dangerous work you can see that my friend is in desperate need of a hot bath and food and some fine ale so if you could have two bowls of hot stew and two mugs of your finest ale sent up to my room that would be much obliged. Oh and the hot bath as well”. Jaskier looked at the man expectantly, that sickly sweet smile still on his lips. The inn keeper grunted, clearly annoyed by the whole situation. “Cost extra and it better stay in the room,” he jerked his head towards Geralt but didn’t look at him, keeping his angry glare on the bard. Jaskier rolled his eyes but took out his coin purse, laying a few down on the bar top that the man snatched up quickly.

Jaskier didn’t waste any time, getting behind Geralt and shoving him towards the stairs. He could stop him if he wanted to but Geralt allowed the weaker man to direct him to the stairs but Jaskier stopped half way up, he anger getting sharper again. “Oh and no extra bodily fluids, my friend here will know,” he patted Geralt’s shoulders as he spoke and Geralt turned his head to glare at the inn keeper, playing his part in Jaskier’s little intimidation. He would know, always knew when people spat or pissed in his food or drink. It was disgusting but it happened, though no one had yet been stupid enough to try it with Jaskier. Geralt would have made them regret it if they had.

Jaskier didn’t give the man a chance to answer, pushing Geralt back up the rest of the steps before slipping around him and heading towards his room at the end of the corridor. Geralt had only just gotten into the room before he started fussing over him, hands flittering about him but not touching all the gore that clung to him. “Jaskier,” he grumbled, his tone heavy with disapproval. He appreciated the other man’s efforts but Geralt really wasn’t worth the trouble he could get into.

Jaskier scoffed, rolling his eyes at Geralt as he headed to the door when a loud bang came. “Oh hush, they were being bigoted assholes and after you saved their ungrateful lives as well. They should truly be ashamed of themselves,” he didn’t even look at the three rather burly and angry looking men on the other side of the door as he yanked it open, holding it ajar as they brought in a bath tub and the first few buckets of what Geralt could already tell was tepid water.

They didn’t look at Geralt as they placed the tub in front of the already lit fire and then quickly disappeared. Jaskier left the door open, obviously optimistic that they would continue to fill the shallow tub and not leave it with the inch or two of water that was in it. “Still,” Geralt grunted, knowing that Jaskier would understand what he was trying to say without him having to use the unneeded amount of words that Jaskier was so fond of. Geralt could take care of himself but Jaskier was human and if anything happened to him because of Geralt, well he didn’t really know what he would do.

Jaskier sighed, heading towards Geralt as the men came back with multiple buckets and continued to fill the bath. He stopped in front of Geralt, looking up at him with a mix of fondness and exasperation. “Its nothing Geralt really. You know I hate how these people treat you, plus what are friends for if not to help each other out in difficult times,” he spoke softly, hands hovering above Geralt’s chest as if he was going to put his hands on him but seemed to have thought better of it.

“Not your friend,” Geralt grunted but he could feel a small smile tugging at his lips, no heat to his words. Jaskier smiled at him, understanding what Geralt was truly trying to say. “Of course, how silly of me to forget that Witcher’s don’t have friends,” Jaskier teased, any lingering anger subsiding as the smell of wild flowers and summer got stronger, Jaskier feeling happy. Geralt liked that smell, wished that he could bottle it for when the other man wasn’t there, for when he came to places like this with people who only saw a monster. It would be a good reminder that there was at least one person out there who cared, one person who he could make happy, who didn’t think him anything more than a man.

They stood there for a long moment, staring into the others eyes and smiling, neither of them really paying attention to the men filling the tub until someone slammed the door closed and Jaskier jumped back, clearly surprised by the sudden noise. The bard laughed nervously, stepping away from Geralt and towards the bed and his own bags, rifling through them in what Geralt thought was an obvious attempt to make himself seem busy. “Well? Come on now Geralt, into the tub before the water gets cold. When was the last time you had a proper bath any way, your hair looks like a rats nest. You need to start looking after yourself better Witcher or you will end up having to cut that precious hair of yours off and wouldn’t that be a travesty,” he called over his shoulder, brandishing a hand behind him towards the now filled tub.

Geralt smiled as he began to work on the buckles of his armour. Jaskier had started to hum, that same sad and wistful tune that he had been working on for a couple of years now. The tune was so familiar by now that Geralt instantly felt himself relax. He had missed this, Jaskier’s gentle nagging and soft humming though he would never admit it to the bard. It was rare to have someone show this much concern for him, even among his brothers and it made him feel warm and wanted to have such attention.

Geralt made quick work of stripping out of his armour and clothes, leaving them to the side to be dealt with latter. Jaskier truly was a good friend and Geralt knew he was lucky to have someone care about him the way Jaskier did. Not many Witcher’s got that and he should tell Jaskier how grateful he was for it but words were never his strong point and he didn’t want to fuck it up. He always felt actions were better than words anyway and he hoped that from his actions Jaskier knew how he felt.

“By the gods Geralt, why didn’t you say someone had tried to gut you like a fish,” Jaskier screeched loudly.

Fuck.

He had forgotten about the gouge in his side.

#the witcher #the witcher tv #netflix the witcher #jaskier #dandelion #geralt #geralt of rivera #geraskier #jaskier x geralt #geralt x dandelion

[bambirex]

For a chubby!Jaskier prompt, how about Jask being kinda on the skinny side after he and Geralt reunite after Geralt apologizes for the mountain incident. Maybe Geralt takes it upon himself to shove meals at Jaskier and get some meat on his bones and they accidentally both learn that they quite enjoy the act of Geralt feeding Jaskier? Jaskier winds up quite round and spoiled as he should be <3

You know I've always headcanoned that Geralt's love language is acts of service, so let's take it to the next level! ❤️

Warnings: light feederism, weight gain, body image

**

The stew smelled absolutely delicious. Jaskier's stomach rumbled impatiently when the scent reached his nose.

He had to admit that he missed Geralt's cooking quite a bit.

"You need to eat it all," Geralt warned him gently as he placed the bowl in his hands. "We need to put some meat back on your bones."

"Alright, don't worry, Mr. Mother Hen," Jaskier chuckled. "I won't wither away."

"I hope so," Geralt sighed with obvious guilt in his eyes. Jaskier cupped his cheek and leaned in to kiss him on the forehead.

Geralt had profusely apologized for everything he'd said after the dragon hunt, and Jaskier had forgiven him a long time ago - yet, it seemed like Geralt still couldn't get over his past mistake, and felt like he needed to do some more groveling. After they'd reunited a couple months prior, Geralt had taken it upon himself to shower Jaskier in the most delicious meals and treats, as his bard had been all skin and bones when he'd found him.

"I'll even have seconds, how about that?" Jaskier promised. He smiled when he saw that happy glint in Geralt's eyes.

As expected, Geralt's stew was simply heavenly. Jaskier couldn't help but let out an appreciative moan at the taste.

There was a proud, almost smug grin on Geralt's face as he watched Jaskier shoveling his food in.

*

As Geralt's love language has turned into "feeding my partner to show him how much I care about him", Jaskier's waistline soon started expanding.

If he didn't immediately reach for seconds, Geralt would quickly swoop in and pile his plate again for him. He also went out of his way to get Jaskier's favorite desserts, and he never allowed Jaskier to skip a meal. Even when Jaskier's mind was too occupied with song writing to actually remember he needed to eat, Geralt would show up to place a pastry in his hand.

The original plan was to put some meat back on his bones, but it turned into much more meat. A couple years ago Jaskier would have freaked out over his weight gain, but now, older and more sure about himself, he found the newfound softness appealing. He did need to go up a size in clothing, but oh, well.

In fact, Jaskier has found Geralt's constant doting quite enjoyable. There was just something insanely heartwarming about the fact that Geralt wanted to keep him soft and warm and happy, and if that meant Jaskier's stomach rounded out into a little pot-belly, then so be it.

Clearly, Jaskier wasn't the only one who liked the changes in his body and his general lifestyle, as Geralt practically couldn't keep his hands off him now.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered to Jaskier in awe, his voice full of genuine love. He reached out to caress Jaskier's chubby cheek, making him blush and smile. "I love seeing you like this."

"Fat?" Jaskier teased, giving his belly a playful jiggle. He didn't miss the flush on Geralt's cheek.

"Well-fed. Comfortable," Geralt explained as he reached out, laying a hand on Jaskier's belly, "spoiled. The way you deserve to be."

"I've been spoiled plenty, indeed," Jaskier noted, looking down on his body. His belly spread comfortably on his lap, warming his thicker thighs. He's gained some adorable rolls on his waist, which Geralt enjoyed grabbing a lot. He's looked much healthier than months before: he was soft and pleasantly rotund, and the rosiness has returned to his cheeks.

"I like it, too. I like what I see when I look in the mirror. And," he looked down at where Geralt was idly rubbing his belly, "I like it that you like it, too."

"Does that mean you'll accept this?" Geralt grinned, pulling a bag out from behind his back. Jaskier laughed, fondly shaking his head.

"You know I can't resist cinnamon pastries. Or you, for that matter."

He obediently opened his mouth, letting Geralt feed him the sweet dessert. His eyes fluttered shut in bliss as the incredible taste exploded on his tongue, and as Geralt's hand started kneading at his belly.

After the bag was empty, Geralt lay behind Jaskier, spooning him on the bed. He gently massaged Jaskier's full belly, purring against the back of his neck.

Jaskier smiled, stretching out with a content little sigh. He couldn't have been happier: he was laying in the arms of his lover who took care of him so well, and he got to eat the most delicious meals without ever having to feel guilty.

What else would he need?

#geraskier #jaskier #geralt of rivia #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher fic #my fic #request #carrottheluvmachine