#they just disappear when geralt is involved

[shy-urban-hobbit]

"Whatcha doing, bard?"

Jaskier startled slightly when Aiden plopped down beside him next to the fire, eyes bright with the beginnings of drunkenness as he offered the wine he was holding. Jaskier took a swig straight from the bottle, choking a little in surprise. After the roughness of the various homebrews and the wines that had been aging in the cellar for possible decades it was sweeter than he expected. Definitely Southern.

"Just thinking. You?"

The Cat let out a dramatic sigh, leaning against Jaskier, "Lambert's ignoring me and it's making me sad."

"Oh, come on. I'm sure he's not."

"Oh?" Aiden cocked an eyebrow before taking a deep inhale, "Hey, Lambert!" He called over to where Lambert was deep in conversation with his brothers (and had been all night). "I'm not wearing any underthings and I fingered myself stupid while thinking of you earlier!"

"Yeah, that's fine Kitten." Lambert answered with a dismissive wave of his hand without even looking over as if Aiden had just told him that he was going to go grab more booze.

Aiden smirked at Jaskier as if to say 'see?', "And from the look on your face you know exactly what I'm talking about, no?"

Now it was Jaskier's turn to fill his lungs, "Oh Geralt!" He singsonged, "I just spilled sweet dessert wine all over my naked body. Want to help me get cleaned up? I'm so sticky and messy!"

Geralt gave one of his classic, non-committal grunts in response.

"Oh, sweet Gods." Jaskier took another angry mouthful before thrusting the bottle into Aiden's chest, ignoring the Witchers chuckle, "I understand he wants to spend time with his brothers but we haven't had any alone time for two weeks! He's either involved in some group activity or we're both too tired after training or chores."

"Hmm."'Aiden hummed in agreement, taking a deep swallow of the wine, "As much as I like Geralt and Eskel and how close they all are, there's certain activities I don't want them involved in." His expression turned devilish, "Want to do something about it?"

"...I'm listening."

Aiden crooked his finger in a beckoning gesture, prompting Jaskier to lean in closer so he could whisper in his ear as if the other Witchers in the room were actually paying attention to them.

"Fucking Hell!"

When he'd decided to call it a night and join Aiden in bed, the last thing Lambert had been expecting was to stumble on his Cat and Geralt's bard locked in a heated kiss at the top of the stairs, Jaskier's hands leisurely roaming over Aiden's back, whimpering when the Witcher moved his attentions from the bard's mouth to his throat. It was only when Geralt's telltale growl reached his ears he lifted his head, languidly turning to look at the two unsuspecting voyuers. Both Wolves looked an entertaining combination of aroused and annoyed. Mostly aroused.

Aiden purred internally. Perfect.

"Well, this is what happens when you forget about us." He said with an exaggerated pout, which Jaskier matched as he wrapped his arms around Aiden's neck, attempting to give Geralt his most pathetic look.

"I've never felt so neglected in my life." He whined, something Geralt knew definitely wasn't true but he decided to play along once he realised neither Jaskier or Aiden smelt even vaguely of arousal, despite their previous position.

"Oh, don't worry Lark." He growled as he stalked forwards, Aiden having the forethought to hurriedly disentangle himself, "I'm about to make sure you're very well taken care of."

Jaskier gave a yelp of surprise which turned into a laugh as Geralt threw him over his shoulder before stalking away towards his room. Jaskier grinned widely as he threw a salute to Aiden before they disappeared around the corner.

Before he realised what was happening, he found himself in Jaskier's previous position. Boxed in against the stone wall with Lambert's chest pressed against his, "That was your idea, wasn't it?"

It wasn't really a question and it was pointless to try and lie, "Yes." Aiden said, meeting Lambert's gaze, gasping in surprise when the Wolf ducked his head and started nuzzling at his neck.

"And you honestly feel the same?"

"...Yes."

Lambert let out a rumble, the meaning of which Aiden couldn't quite discern as he nipped at Aiden's pulse.

"So." Aiden prompted, squirming a little, "You going to make it up to me, or punish me?"

"Depends. How serious were you being about the no underthings?"

#the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #aiden/lambert #aiden x lambert #lambden #lambert/aiden #lambert x aiden #witcher aiden #witcher lambert #lambert #geraskier #geralt/jaskier #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #jaskier/geralt #witcher jaskier #jaskier #witcher geralt #geralt of rivia #geralt

[theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction]

Whoreson Prison Blues

Pairing: Jaskier x Reader (Ft. Geralt)

Warnings: Violence, language.

Inspiration: Season 2

Summary: Imprisoned and alone you find yourself bonding with your cell mate only to realise that this wasn’t a mere stranger.

It wasn’t exactly how you planned the day to go but there weren’t any regrets. Being beaten and thrown into a cell was a common occurrence recently, in fact you still had bruising from the last entanglement with the knighted patrols.

The third day had nearly passed and a guard tossed a small bowl of water into the cell which spilled onto the floor. He jeered through the barred doors and then turned away when he heard a commotion. To you, it sounded like two guards struggling to detain another unfortunate individual.

“Well, well. Looks like you have a friend.” The duty guard chuckled and then disappeared from sight to open the cell door on the opposite side of the brick wall. There was a harsh shove and somebody hitting their knees on the floor.

“Maybe this will make you think twice about helping the elf-bastards.” A second guard laughed.

The cell doors slammed and you heard the keys jangle as the lock was fastened. Still cackling, all three sounded like they were jesters and decided to walk out and celebrate their win privately. This worked in your favour allowing you to plan an escape until you heard a small mumble through the crack in the wall.

“Reminder to self, file a complaint for these hideous cells. Oh, great - an audience of rats.” The voice sighed.

You didn’t know why but the stranger made you smile. “The rats are pretty decent company.”

“That’s funny. I had a friend who would have said something like that. They were a real badass. We used to travel with this broody, moody, muscled fellow who liked to act complicated.”

Hold on. Now that you listened to the voice more carefully, it began to match a face that you hadn’t seen in months.

“Jaskier?”

“…Yes?” The bard replied. “Who’s asking?”

“Y/n - you wonderful singing fool!”

“And how do I know that you’re who you say you are and not some trick by the guards to lure out information?”

You rolled your eyes but commended that he was being more aware of people in strange lands. The bard used to be far too trusting.

“Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount of Lettenhove. Original composer of Toss A Coin To Your Witcher. You have a tendency to woo married women - even tried your luck with me too. You tried to kiss me after getting drunk in Cintra and then again when we were dealing with that werewolf-“

“Okay, you’ve made your point. I can’t believe you’re here. What are the chances?” Jaskier wondered aloud. “What have they got you in here for?”

You paused for a silent second and stared at the metal cuffs around your wrists. It was probably best not to get into detail about what you had done to wind up on the hate radar of this town.

“Better question, what are you in for?“ You deflected.

Thankfully, Jaskier didn’t hesitate to answer and if he was curious, he chose not to follow up on it. He let out a long sigh and you could imagine the look on his face.

“I helped a wanted criminal escape.”

You laughed at the idea of the humble bard being involved in something so prickly. Jaskier didn’t appreciate the reaction and there was a scoff. “It’s true! I’m very close with the Sandpiper.”

The Sandpiper was a name not loudly spoken, so you figured that he wasn’t telling tall tales.

“Alright, I believe you. You’ve been wandering very interesting circles. The Bard and the Piper - you must tell me of the stories one day.” You smiled and rest your head against the stone wall.

Your stomach began to rumble just as the main doors swung open and two guards walked in. You heard a metal tray clattering and recognised that it was the final meal of the day. When the guard approached your cell, you watched as he entered and carelessly tossed the tray down. You had refused to eat anything that was given in fear that it had been poisoned by one of the many people you had pissed off.

You could hear Jaskier trying to salvage what hadn’t touched the floor and was about to tell the guard to jump off a cliff when a round ball of stale bread flew and hit you in the face quite harshly. It rolled off your lap and settled on some hay. You turned to the guard and glared daggers.

“Eat that or get a taste of my blade.” He threatened.

With a huff, you chose to ignore the guards presence all together. It wasn’t long before he left and you took up the measly portion that was more dirt than bread and tore off a piece.

“This isn’t so bad.” Jaskier commented. “Could use some seasoning.”

You stared at what you were eating and wondered if it was hard enough to concuss the guard on duty…

“So how’s the broody fellow?” Jaskier wondered.

At first, you frowned but then remembered who he was referring to. The Witcher who took a lot of patience.

“I don’t know. We parted ways not long after you left. He was being increasingly difficult so I told him as much.”

“How did he take that?” Jaskier wondered, knowing exactly how the man could behave.

You exhaled. “He told me to ‘fuck off’ and left me in a swamp.”

The memory of that day was leaving a bitter taste in your mouth…or maybe it was the bread. Either way, you didn’t want to clutter your mind with something useless.

Jaskier seemed to have silently agreed.

“Well, screw Geralt. We don’t need him.” He said and began tapping on some spoons.

There was a loud clang against the cell bars as the guard slammed his palm across it to get the attention of them both.

“Will you both shut up? You sound like fucking spurned lovers.”

Jaskier laughed at the thought and you were glad that he was fated to be your cell partner. As the guard piped down, the rats scurried over to the bards cell where the spoons clanged a little louder and with a bit more rhythm until Jaskier had a catchy tune.

“It's been a long time travellin'

On roads that lead to nowhere

With hopes and dreams that always rot…” he began to sing softly, pausing every so often to form the artful words.

You waited for the next bit but he seemed to have a bit of a block. Without thinking, you leaned back and looked at your surroundings.

“Sometimes it takes a prison cell to remember how shitty the world is.”

“Oh, that’s perfect!” Jaskier told you and began tapping again.

“Sometimes it takes a prison cell,

The tricks and tales, the traitors' tell,

To help you see that freedom is all you've got.

So lock me up and sock me up,

And throw away the key.

Go fuck yourself, you whoreson.

'Cause you're through fuckin' with me.”

Jaskier was a bard of many talents and you had missed him all because of a falling out with a mutual friend. It must have been the exhaustion of being locked up that you started singing along to the song just to keep occupied.

“Go fuck yourself, you whoreson! Cause you’re through fuckin’ with me.”

A few more rehearsals and you and Jaskier had the duty guards on edge each time you switched shifts. They might be brutes but you couldn’t help but credit their creativity with the death threats.

Another day passed, you were still locked up, Jaskier was now doing solo renditions for the rats, and the bread hadn’t improved in taste or quality. You began to think of a way out of the cell and devised the start of a plan that included stealing the keys with Jaskier’s help. It wouldn’t be easy but if you got your hands on a sword, the guards would be unmatched in skill.

Then, there was an unexpected commotion in the hallway during Jaskier’s song.

“Fucking hell. You know what? We’re trying to rehearse in here.”

You heard the bard complain and then apologise to the rats for the interruption. “Good sir. You would not know talent if I shoved it up your … Geralt.”

You scoffed to yourself and wondered if Jaskier had finally gone mad. “I thought we agreed never to mention that broody grouch ever again?” You called out.

There was silence to the question and some soft talking that you couldn’t quite understand but Jaskier’s voice rose for a second. Then there was a shuffle of feet and you were drawn to your own cell door where a familiar man with white hair and broad shoulders showed his face.

Geralt unlocked you door and walked in. He bent down and worked his Witcher magic to free you of the cuffs.

“I’d say I’m shocked to find you here - but I’m not.” He said, helping his friend up.

You rubbed your wrists and dusted your pants. You looked at the man and shrugged. “You know how it is - chaos doesn’t just come in the form of magic.”

Geralt smiled and you couldn’t help but notice that something was a little different about him - like he was content, almost happy.

“I have no right to ask this of you but I could use your help.” He requested.

You could very easily have told him to shove off and be rid of the man for the rest of your life but Geralt was a friend through so many difficult quests. Plus it wouldn’t hurt charge him the fee of one apology.

“Just to be clear, I’m pissed at you for about a million things but I can’t resist a call for help.” You told him honestly and raised a finger. “One condition, Jaskier comes along.”

As if on cue, the bard walked in. “Say no more, I have no plans to leave. Oh…” his eyes travelled to the locks and chains laying on the floor. “Why the fuck were you chained up?”

Clearing your throat, you pointed to the exit. “Story for the road?”

Masterlist here

#theladyofmanyfandoms #theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction #gif is not mine #jaskier x reader #jaskier imagine #witcher imagine #witcher x reader #geralt imagine #geralt x reader

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

Part 17

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Part 16 🟣 Part 18

A reverse harem vampire AU ft. Mikey, Marshall, August and Sherlock

Series summary: Somehow, you've managed to live with your boyfriend and his roommates for months before finding out they're vampires, but the real shock first comes when they find out you have a special quality. A quality the guys would love to make use of...

Warnings: Ongoing vampire shenanigans, mentions of blood, biting, angst. Girl-gossip shenanigans.

Word count: 2.7k

A/N: I'm very sorry, @deandoesthingstome, but this chapter is exactly what you hate most 😂😂 That said... We need some girl-gossip up in this bitch. Enjoy!

@geralts-yenn @deandoesthingstome @summersong69 @mis-lil-red @ellethespaceunicorn @sillyrabbit81 @livisss @itsrubberbisquit @ktficworld

“Hey, is that Professor Holmes?”

You followed Katie’s gaze to the side only to find that she was right: Sherlock was indeed in the cafeteria of your building, and he was walking towards the table where you and your friends were sitting. “It is,” you answered plainly.

“God, it’s a shame he’s no longer teaching here… I’d almost switch schools to take one of his classes, and that’s just because of that face.” Rose sighed.

Her remark made you chuckle. “You know he’s a vampire, right?” you noted amusedly. “He can hear you.”

Closer inspection of Sherlock’s face showed no sign that he had indeed heard what Rose had said, but there simply was no other option.

“Who cares, I bet the man knows he’s a whole damn meal,” Jenelle helpfully added.

“Mmm, fine dining,” Rose chuckled. “Aren’t you supposed to be a lesbian, J?”

“I have eyes,” Jenelle deadpanned.

“You guys,” you hissed angrily. The whole conversation was making you incredibly uncomfortable. You lived with Sherlock, for crying out loud. You were… involved with him.

His soft chuckle sounded behind you as a strong arm reached around you to put something on the table — a book. “Mike said you needed this,” he said kindly, “and I had an appointment on campus, anyway.” The fact that he skipped out on your usual ‘darling’ left you a little deflated. Of course, you’d never taken the time to discuss if you would take your slightly unorthodox relationship public…

“Oh, really?” you answered, trying hard to keep your nervousness out of your voice. “What kind of appointment?”

“I’m assisting in another plagiarism case,” he answered. “The school was able to replace me as a professor, but my other talents are significantly harder to come by.” His hand landed on your shoulder for hardly more than a second, and then it was gone again. “I will see you tonight, right? August is making pasta.”

“Yeah,” you said softly.

When Sherlock turned around to walk away, it stung. You wanted to hug him, instead of hiding your relationship — although you hadn’t actually ever defined what that relationship was, exactly. One look around the table at your friends told you they already knew there was something going on.

“Seriously?” Katie snapped when Sherlock had disappeared from the cafeteria. “You are cheating on Mike?”

Shit. Of course, you had considered that explaining your situation would be tough, but you hadn’t counted on Katie going full Queen of Judgement.

“I’m not…”

“Save it, bitch,” she hissed. “How could you? Mike is so cute and…”

“Katie, shut up,” you snapped. “I’m not cheating. Mike knows, he’s… he’s okay with it. And it’s complicated.”

“Complicated how, girl?” Jenelle asked, sounding a lot more calm than Katie.

“Alright,” you sighed, “can this stay between us?” The three nodded. We’re you really doing this? Jenelle worked at the Bank, she’d have no problems with this, but Katie… She grew up about as sheltered as you had, and your best guess was that her family wasn’t exactly more forgiving on the vampire stuff.

“I’m a natural,” you blurted out before you could talk yourself out of coming clean to your friends.

“Luxury vampire food, you mean?” Rose said, her eyes wide. “Girl, you can make a killing off that!”

“How would you know?” Katie asked, disdain very clear in her voice.

“Oh, don’t be a hick about it. My sister is one. She’s making fucking bank at some club downtown. She could probably het you an inter— oh my God!”

“What?” Jenelle asked. You didn’t respond.

“You’ve been paying for lunch, not as worried about your student loans… You are making money!” It was impossible to interject, because Rose and Jenelle started to chatter excitedly while the look of disbelief on Katie’s face only grew stronger.

And then she snapped.

“You’re some filthy fucking blood whore?” Right, there it was. She didn’t even wait for an answer — not that anything you could have told her would have calmed her down, because you were, by any definition of the word, a blood whore. Somehow, it stung a lot more now that Katie said it than it had when August had mentioned it.

“Katie, seriously?” Jenelle scoffed. “You know I feed vamps for a living, too, right?”

As she said it, Katie turned pale. “I didn’t,” she muttered quietly, and she began to gather her stuff. “I have to go.”

When she rushed out of the cafeteria, Rose and Jenelle looked at each other, and then at you.

“I guess her family values don’t quite line up with city life,” Rose said.

“With normal life, you mean?” Jenelle sneered, clearly not upset by what had just happened.

“Hey,” you replied, “take it easy, she’s…”

“A bitch, girl.” Rose rolled her eyes. “I know she’s a lot like you, and I know you bonded over leaving your small-town family behind and everything, but even you have to admit that you did a way better job adjusting than she ever did. She honest to God didn’t even try.”

You knew she was right, but it still felt wrong to talk about someone you’d considered one of your closest friends like this. Especially when she was being accused of being what you were, too: A small-town girl.

Then again, they weren’t wrong in saying you’d come a long way since then. In fact, you were absolutely certain that your parents would die of shock when they found out about your arrangement with your roommates. Actually, you were pretty sure they’d already keel over if they only heard you were living with four guys, regardless of whether or not they were vampires.

They also weren’t wrong in saying that Katie hadn’t exactly made the steps you had. Quite the contrary, if you had to admit it.

You sighed.

“Girl, tell us more,” Jenelle said, putting her hand on your arm and squeezing you lightly. “I take it there’s an arrangement of sorts with these hottie-hot-hot roommates of yours?”

“Up to and including Professor McDreamy?” Rose sighed, the look in her eyes revealing she’d trade places with you in a heartbeat.

You nodded. “Yep. I never thought it would be this intimate, though…”

“We’re ditching this lecture, aren’t we?” Rose asked, looking at Jenelle, who nodded.

“Girl we’re out of here. Come on.”

“Hold on, so you slept with Pornstache? I mean… Augustus, was it?”

“August,” you corrected Jenelle, “and… I mean it’s only happened once so far.”

“And the cop?” Rose butted in.

“Not yet…” Why were you having this conversation again?

“And the pretty professor?” Jenelle asked. You’d been wondering about that, actually. Because the truth, which you also told your friends, was, of course, that you and Sherlock hadn’t had sex, even though you spent the occasional night in his bed.

“Maybe he’s waiting for you to bring it up? He seems like that kind of guy,” Jenelle said when you had finished the story of your first kiss — leaving out the part about Mike running off for now — and the nights you had spent together.

“J, we don’t know him,” Rose laughed.

“No, she’s right. He’s that kind of guy. So sweet, so considerate… Very insistent I take my supplements.” The quizzical looks on your friends’ saves made you laugh. “He can tell when I need vitamins. As in… he can taste it. So he makes sure I take what I need… it’s…”

“God, I want someone to take care of me like that…” Rose sighed. Jenelle agreed with her.

You had to admit; it was nice to have someone look after you. And you had four someones, even.

“But like, Mike was okay with all that?” Jenelle asked, and you knew your hopes of leaving out the part about him running off were shattered.

The story left Jenelle and Rose speechless for a moment, and then Rose laughed. “Christ, he's adorable,” she snickered, “I feel so bad for him. No, really…”

“Oh, the impact that remark would make if you weren't cackling like a crazy witch,” Jenelle said.

“I'm sorry, it's just… On brand for him, somehow? Does that make sense?” It did. It really did.

“August would say that it's because Mike is just a baby,” you blurted out before you were able to really think it through.

“Yeah, wait, how old are these guys?” Of course Jenelle asked the question you'd been dreading.

“Eh… Mike was born in the sixties, if I recall correctly. August and Marshall are four hundred years old, give or take, and Sherlock just under nine hundred years.” Was it just you or was it hot in here all of a sudden?

“Hm…” Yeah. Hmm. That sounded about right — you hadn't really worked out how to deal with that information yet, either.

“How old were they when they were turned?” Rose asked, making you instantly worried about something you had somehow failed to consider at all.

“God… I don't even know,” you muttered.

“You never asked?” Jenelle couldn't wrap her head around that. “How could you not ask?”

“It didn't really matter…”

“It doesn't matter,” Rose said matter-of-factly, “but I still want to know.” Ah. Rose's curiosity was the bane of your existence from time to time — and the reason for some of the better conversations you'd had with her.

“Mike was in his early twenties, I believe. And I'm guessing Sherlock and August are in their late thirties, early forties. Marshall… Mid-thirties, I think? I honestly don't know!” And you cursed yourself for it.

“It doesn't really matter. Their legal documents have their original birthdates on them, anyway,” Jenelle pointed out. “I used to work the desk at the Bank before I decided to give feeding a shot.”

“I know Sherlock doesn't have one. His driver’s license says ‘ADB’,” you remembered. Rose gave you a questioning look.

“Approximate date of birth,” Jenelle explained, although that didn't seem to make it much clearer.

“Legislation changed so many times during his life, and he's had to hide and lie about his age and pretend to be human and whatnot… He genuinely doesn't remember when he was born, exactly,” you clarified.

“Years and days are often just an estimate, even if you only go back about a century,” Jenelle added.

“It sounds horrible to not know when you were born,” Rose said quietly, a worried look on her face.

“I know the guys don't mind much… They're mostly glad they can feed legally,” you muttered.

“They must be really happy they ran into you,” Jenelle said with a wink. “I hear these arrangements are kinda rare, like… people pay top dollar to be a part of one.”

There was a question somewhere in that statement, and it was easy enough to tell what it was, exactly; what's the deal?

“Yeah…” You hesitated. You'd barely come to terms with the agreement yourself. Sharing it was something else entirely.

“You know you can trust us, right?” Rose said. She was at least as curious as Jenelle.

“Yeah, it's just… It's a lot, okay? Basically I don't pay rent and utilities, and I get… let's call it an allowance. Please don't make me tell you how much that is. It's basically a very generous grocery budget, that's all I'm gonna say about that.”

Your cheeks were burning and you couldn't keep your hands from trembling as you waited for your friends' reactions to what you'd just told them.

They were silent for a beat, and then Rose squealed. “Girl, oh my God, that's amazing! I'm so happy for you!”

She meant it — as did Jenelle, who furiously nodded in agreement of what Rose had just said.

“Truth be told,” you said. Now that you were fessing up anyway, there was something you had to get off your chest. “I'd do it for free.”

“No way,” Jenelle said, “I've had shifts where the drip — like, the painkiller chemicals — didn't take well, and I swear I wanted to die after the third or so client.”

“But you're not a natural,” Rose replied. “My sister told me it feels good.”

“Oh, it does,” you blurted out, “it really does. They could feed on me all day and I'd be so perfectly happy! Mike even…” No. That was… It wasn't that you'd never shared any intimate details about your sex life with Rose and J, but this…

“Mike even what?” The girls said in unison, and you wished you could disappear.

“God, alright, eh… He likes to drag it out.” You shrugged. As far as you were concerned, that was plenty of information for them. They disagreed.

“Bitch, I sw-"

“Alright, alright,” you shushed Rose, who seemed to calm down — but looks can be deceiving, especially in very tiny, copper-curled physics students. As far as you'd experienced, at least.

“Mike one hundred percent feeds during sex,” Jenelle said indifferently. You hated how spot-on she was.

“Yup,” you said. “And remember how fond he is of, eh…”

“Boobies,” Jenelle sighed — it was just about the only trait she and Mike had in common. “Wait…” She snapped her head in your direction, her eyes wide. “You mean he… Really?”

Why did this even surprise her?

“Oh, that adorable little freak,” Rose chuckled.

“Never tell him — or anyone else — that I told you this!” you said, mild panic clear in your voice. “Swear on your life!”

“Jeez, chill!” Jenelle snorted. “Like we'd ever do that? Ain't none of my business that he wants to suck on your tits.”

“What does that feel like?” Rose asked. How would you even begin to explain that?

Despite being unsure you'd be able to do it justice, you decided to give it a shot, anyway. You’d made it too far into this conversation to back down now. Besides, it was nice to finally be able to talk about this with your closest friends. Minus Katie — which was probably for the best.

“The feeding itself already feels like a warm bath… I mean, the bite is more sensitive, but other than that, it's pretty much the same. It's his reaction that makes it so good. A few nights ago he got so snuggly — he'd had a rough day and he was very hyper and all over the place, but as soon as he was curled up next to me, he calmed down.” You could tell from the look on her face that Jenelle had a hard time picturing Mike in any kind of way that could be described as calm. “Really! And he has this gift…”

“I can't believe we never asked you about that!” Rose interrupted. “Do they all have one?”

“They do. I'll get to that, okay?” you promised before continuing: “Anyway, Mike has this gift. He senses desires.” Rose's eyes went wide for just a moment, but you happened to catch it. “What?”

“Okay so, hypothetically, if at some point I thought about…” It didn't take a genius to figure out where this was going.

“Yeah. There’s a very good chance he caught that. Marshall is worse, though. He straight-up reads minds.”

Rose stared at you wide-eyed. “Well, it’s good to know I can never show my face at your place again.”

“Eh, you're fine,” you said. “A-ny-way, they warned me that after a while, there was a chance they'd kind of ‘share’ those gifts with me while they were feeding, meaning I get to feel what Mike desires, and… It went beyond wanting. He needed me. It was…” A single tear rolled down your cheek, taking you by surprise. “I love him so much.”

Jenelle wrapped her arms around your neck and pulled you close. “Girl, quit playin'. You love all of them, it's so obvious, seriously.”

“I really do,” you sighed. “This whole thing feels like home. It feels like forever.”

“But babe, you're not going to be around forever,” Rose said carefully. The thought had crossed your mind before, and every time it did, it made you feel queasy.

“You know,” you whispered, “I’m not so sure about that.”

#mike hellraiser fic #mike hellraiser #mike (hellraiser) #hellraiser mike #mike hellraiser fanfiction #henrycavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill #henry cavill characters #walter marshall #hc sherlock #henry cavill sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes #august walker #august walker fanfiction #natural fic #naturalfic #mike hellraiser smut #mike x reader #hellraiser mike x reader

[poledancingdinos]

Hostile Territory - Chapter 16

Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC (Leah Coleman)

Word count: 2.1K

Warnings: grief, past loss

Catch up: Series Masterlist

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Masterlist

Day 185

As soon as her team made it back, Leah disappeared. She had jumped off the turret before Rohan had even slowed the humvee down to a full stop. By the time Sy had finished checking in with everyone else, no one had any idea where she had gone.

As her team leader, Ben had gone to her room to check in with her but he’d found it empty. When the guys had checked the chow hall and gym without success, Sy grew more concerned. He dismissed the four worried men with a promise to handle things himself.

There were only so many places one could be on base and none of them were so secluded that no one would stumble across you. It wasn’t until Sy patrolled the perimeter of the base that he remembered how Leah had been perched on the top of her bed when the whole fiasco with Nielsen had first gone down. It was the only time he’d seen the pressure get to her.

The roof had various heights and if she climbed up to the Western side, no one would be able to see her from the watchtower. How the hell she had managed to get up there—if she was up there—in full tactical gear was beyond his comprehension but there was nowhere else to look.

It took him pulling a humvee up flush against the side of the building to reach a broken off ladder. He could just barely reach the bottom rung and had to muscle his way up the last four feet. Once he heaved himself over the edge, he was happy to note that his efforts hadn’t been in vain.

Leah didn’t so much as spare a glance at him as he lowered himself next to her.

“What you did was reckless,” he stated, pulling his knees up and leaning his crossed arms on them.

“I don’t care,” she sniffed, wiping her cheek on the shoulder of her uniform jacket, “I’ll take the punishment for disobeying direct orders.”

The only thing Leah had ever seemed to care about was being good at her job. The fact that she was so quick to put everything at risk told Sy that Niki held a special place in her heart. That kind of loyalty couldn’t be bought. It was the kind you forged by walking through fire and helping each other through to the other side. Seeing him hurt was punishment enough.

“I’m not here to scold you. What you did saved his life. I expect he will make it out of this with minimal lasting injuries. I’m sorry you had to see your… friend like that.”

“What was that tone for?” Leah’s eyes found his for the first time, a suspicious frown on her face.

Sy shifted uncomfortably. “Well, you wouldn’t be the first girl to have a crush on her brother’s best friend. It’s not much of a stretch to think that the two of you might be involved.”

“What? No, it’s not like that. Niki was just…” She let out a frustrated groan, closing her eyes and slamming her head back against the brick. “Niki was a big part of my life from the time I started high school to when I joined the army. The thought of losing him hurts as bad as the thought of losing my brother.”

Tears fell down her cheeks and Sy had to lock his hands together to keep from wiping them away. The last thing she would want would be for him to draw attention to them and the last thing she needed was her superior getting too handsy. Again.

“I taught him how to shoot,” she added after a beat of silence. “When I was fifteen I told him that if he planned on making the military his career then he needed to learn.”

“Wait, why was a fifteen year old teaching a… ” Sy’s eyebrows pulled together as he did the math in his head. “Twenty-something year old how to shoot? Where were your parents in all this?”

Leah snorted, shaking her head. “How much time have you got?”

Sy knew it was a rhetorical question but he felt compelled to answer all the same. He had a feeling she wouldn’t actually tell him otherwise and he was dying to learn anything he could about her.

“For you? All the time in the world.”

Leah’s eyes grew wide as she looked up at him. Her face was covered in dust except for where her tears had left trails down to her chin. She unzipped her jacket, having already removed her helmet and her plates, and shrugged it off. Sy mirrored her action, getting more comfortable in the late afternoon heat.

“I never knew my mother. She was only eighteen when she got pregnant with Caleb. Her family disowned her for the whole having sex out of wedlock thing and Dad was a newly enlisted corpsman who was always away. When he was finally close to coming home for good, the war happened.”

Sy already knew that she’d lost her father but the fact that she’d never known her mother was news to him.

“At some point my mother got it in her head that maybe if she just had another baby, she could convince him to come back so she got pregnant with me on purpose while Dad was on leave but all that did was leave her more miserable. For the second time before she’d even turned twenty-five, she had to go through a pregnancy basically alone, only that time she had a toddler to care for as well.

“One morning about a year after I was born, my mom dropped Caleb off at school then took me next door to the retired couple who used to babysit us. She got in her car and drove away. No one has heard from her since.”

Leah could feel Sy’s full attention on her. She had never had to lay out her life story before, only ever going so far as to say her father was dead. For some reason she didn’t understand, she wanted Sy to know this about her. She wanted to show him that she trusted him and that she wasn’t hiding anything when it came to Niki.

“Dad was granted a compassionate discharge and my mother lost all her parental rights. He made sure that she could never come back and take us away from him after abandoning us. He may not have been there in Caleb’s early days but he always did as much as he could for us even if he was an ocean away. Caleb always knew his dad loved him…”

Leah covered her face with both hands and, for a moment, Sy thought that maybe she’d decided that was enough story-telling for a day, but she choked down a sob and lifted her head again.

“What we didn’t know was that before he was discharged, Dad was injured in an explosion. We didn’t know he’d been living with shrapnel still stuck in his body—shrapnel that shifted and caused an embolism when I was fourteen. At nineteen our mother had Caleb. When Caleb was nineteen and in his first year of pre-med, he was given custody of me.”

“Fuck, Leah, I’m so sorry.”

He really was. She lost the only parent she’d ever known, someone she obviously cared for deeply. No one deserved that.

“Niki and a few of Caleb’s other friends took it upon themselves to help look out for me. They would come over most nights and study together. They would take turns making dinner so we didn’t always have to. Everyone knew Caleb was born to be a doctor and they didn’t want him to get behind because of what happened, myself included. I kept to myself, I tried harder in school to make sure none of the teachers would question how well Caleb took care of me, I got a job.”

Sy shifted, cursing his dick for the inappropriately timed interest. The first time she’d mentioned her job had been when she’d drawn that moth on his chest. Just the memory of their closeness was enough to send his imagination running wild.

“Niki was the only one who noticed that all of that was just for the sake of appearances. He was the only one who noticed how much losing Dad had destroyed something inside me. Dad and I used to do everything together. Caleb was the smart kid, he was into books and that kind of thing so as soon as he was old enough to be home alone he stopped tagging along to our hunting trips or to the shooting range. He still came camping with us but he’d just read by the lake while Dad and I took the paddleboards out. Each of us is one perfect half of Dad. Caleb got his smarts and I got his inability to sit still.

“About a year after he died, Niki found me in the kitchen, crying my eyes out as I cleaned my father’s gun collection. Until then, I hadn’t even been able to set foot in dad’s office. Niki didn’t say anything. He just pulled his laptop out of his book bag and started typing up an essay. I hadn’t realized until he did that how good it felt to not have to hide. He didn’t make me talk or anything, he was just… there. And that was enough, you know?

“That’s when Niki started taking me to the range once a month. He let me teach him how to shoot. He helped me cope and by the time he got into OCS, I didn’t feel like my grief was going to swallow me up whole anymore. I’d started letting myself live again. I’d found a new hobby that I could do on my own. I opened up to Caleb and stopped feeling like I was a burden in his life.”

Sy had no idea that Leah hid so much pain behind her tough exterior but he felt like he should have guessed. He was no stranger to difficult family dynamics but at least they were still around. He might have once felt like his parents neglected him in order to care for his younger brothers but that didn’t mean he didn’t also know he was loved. Leah grew up knowing her mom had attempted to use her birth to manipulate her father and ran away when it didn’t work. It was no wonder having Niki around elicited such a strong reaction from her.

“Sounds to me like Niki is a really stand up guy.”

“Yeah. He was.”

“Is,” Sy corrected. “He ain’t goin’ nowhere. I’m sorry I’ve been so hard on ya since he got here.” He let out a deep sigh, feeling like an asshole for letting his jealousy affect his job. “I asked him about you… When he first got here and ya jumped on him. I just assumed you guys had some sort of romantic relationship or at least that it had been once. He said it wasn’t like that but something in his tone made me think I wasn’t gettin’ the full story. I thought that if anyone picked up on how close you were that they would assume you were sleeping with him.”

Then there was the fact that, even if he’d initiated their kiss, she’d kissed him back. Of course some little part of him had been all too quick to believe she’d only been interested in him to get ahead. That same part of him that seemed to always compel him to make stupid decisions in his youth rather than asking anyone for help. The part of him that needed to be knocked down to his knees before allowing him to dedicate his efforts to constructive endeavors.

There was a beat of silence before Sy spoke again.

“I hope ya know that ya never have to hide. Not from me.” He was referring to her earlier words but also to the way in which she’d climbed up the fucking building just to be alone. He still hadn’t bothered asking how she’d managed that. “I need to know what’s goin’ on with you as your CO but I… I would want to know regardless.”

Leah didn’t say anything in response but the way she leaned her head on his shoulder as she cried until she ran out of tears was answer enough.

Chapter 17

#captain syverson #captain syverson fic #captain syverson fanfiction #captain syverson fanfic #cpt syverson #cpt syverson fic #cpt syverson fanfiction #henry cavill #captain syverson x ofc

[hidden-misthios]

Something in the Orange (part 2)

Pairing: Lambert x female!sorceress!reader

Word count: 3 601

Summary: When Geralt of Rivia disappears, Jaskier has no choice but to ask his best friend for help. Although struggling with her own issues, Y/N agrees and they join Vesemir and the others in Kaer Morhen. The search might be difficult but not as difficult as the certain redheaded witcher who keeps challenging her.

A/n: I’m sorry for a long wait! 

Part 1 is here.

Y/N sighs. Of course it had to be him.

“Where is he?” she asks Vesemir, not really trying to hide her reluctance.

“Probably in his room. I’ll take you there.” he offered. Y/N nods and follows Vesemir out of the library. They walked through the castle in silence while Y/N was trying to think of what to say to Lambert once she was there.

When they finally arrived, Vesemir knocked on old doors.

“What?” they heard him grumbling from the other side and then the doors opened. He slightly raised his eyebrows when he noticed Y/N.

“We need your help.” Vesemir said.

“’Course you do.” he said, suddenly sounding tired.

“Y/N is an oneiromancer.” Vesemir started but Lambert immediately realized where this conversation is going.

“No. I’m not letting her bewitch me!” he shook his head.

“I’m not going to ‘bewitch’ you.” Y/N couldn’t help but roll her eyes. She crosses arms on chests while stepping closer to him. Lambert instantly steps backwards.

“We are just going to have a quick nice chat about your last encounter with Geralt.”

“And that’s supposed to help us get him back? How?” he frowns, crossing his arms as well.

“So many questions.” Y/N sighs and passes by him, entering his room without his approval. Lambert was about to protest but Y/N was getting inpatient.

“I’m going to need a chair, right here” she points next to Lambert’s bed. “You’re going to lay down and drink this.” Y/N opens her leather bag and pulls out a small bottle of sleep potion.

“You can’t be serious. I’m not drinking that.” Lambert complains.

“Since you two have things figured out, I’m sure you don’t need me. I’ll see you both in the morning.” Vesemir quickly adds and before anyone could say anything, he leaves down the hall. Y/N looks at Lambert again, and throws a small bottle at him. He caches it but doesn’t even look at the bottle.

“I said I’m not drinking that. Are you deaf?”

“Listen, witcher.” Y/N is annoyed at this point but she keeps her voice steady and calm. “I’m trying to help you find YOUR friend. Are you really going to make this harder than it already is?” she crosses arms.

“It’s harder because you got involved, not because of me!” he raises his voice slightly. Y/N steps closer, getting into his personal space.

“If this doesn’t work, I’m out. Okay? You’re on your own.” Y/N tried to sound patient, but Lambert could still sense the annoyance in her voice. All of a sudden, he grins.

“Deal. If it doesn’t work right away, you and that ridiculous trumpeter are out. By the first rays of the sunlight.”

Y/N’s jaw slightly clenches. “Deal.” she agrees, not wanting to break the eye contact first. Lambert looks at her for couple of seconds longer and then suddenly turns around, grabs the chair next to him and effortlessly moves it next to his bed.

He opens the bottle that Y/N gave him and looks at its content. Dark green liquid didn’t exactly smell like honey and flowers but Y/N knew how powerful the potion was.

“Go on. Drink all of it.” Y/N says as she sat down. Lambert sits on the edge of his bed. He hesitates for a few moments before finally drinking the potion.

“Lovely.” he manages to speak before coughing a couple of times. Y/N grabs an empty bottle from his hand and leans back into her chair.

“Okay, now, lay down. I’ll explain how this works.”

Lambert doesn’t say anything but lays down and crosses arms on his chests.

“Relax. Firstly, we need to discuss the details of your bond with Geralt.”

“We are friends, brothers. There’s nothing to discuss there.” Lambert says shrugging his shoulders but Y/N could swear she heard a bit of discomfort in his voice. He wasn’t comfortable with sharing his feelings with her.

“Lambert, my ability works only if my clients are honest with me. Do not lie. Don’t keep the details from me. I need to know how strong is your bond. Try to flesh out feelings, emotions…Truth is essential in this.”

Y/N looks at him. At least he looks like he’s listening to her.

“So, what are you going to do once you see that dream of yours?”

“I won’t see anything. You will.”

“I don’t understand-”

“You will. Now, please, I need the strongest, most complete memory you have of Geralt.”

Lambert hesitates. This wasn’t what he expected when he agreed to do this. After a couple of seconds, he decides to share the memory of their first shared hunt - the one where they killed Chort, who came out of the dark forest while they were still tracking him. The Chort was a beast; large male who was protecting his territory and clearly didn’t want them near, but Geralt and Lambert already got paid by the nearby villagers to get rid of the creature.

“Did he save your life?” Y/N asks. Lambert nods, looking at the dark ceiling. He could still remember the moment he thought he was dying. His stomach twisted just like it did that day.

“What else should I know?”

 It took a while for Y/N to gather information mostly because Lambert didn’t know how to express his feelings but Y/N didn’t rush him.

He’s a witcher after all, she’d remind herself.

By what she heard, they had a complicated relationship and often disagreed but they did respect each other and had a strong bond.

“Alright now, relax, close your eyes. And try to fall asleep. Empty your mind.” she said, and with one quick flick of hand she increased the flames in the small fireplace. The room got warmer almost immediately.

Lambert’s face relaxed after a couple of minutes. Y/N stayed quiet. This was the most vital part. He was supposed to feel like he fell asleep but keeping him in the state between deep sleep and consciousness was Y/N’s job. Sometimes it took a while, so remaining attentive was essential.

She focused, took a slow, steady breath and looked at Lambert. His brows furrowed and his jaw slightly clenched. Then suddenly she felt a soft ‘click’ inside her mind.

Y/N did it! The dream was there. Now, she had to wait. And hope the main dream doesn’t mix with the rest. Sometimes, she couldn’t do anything about it. The sleeper’s mind just went too far off. But, for some reason, she knew that won’t happen now.

After what seemed like forever, Lambert slowly opened his eyes. Although he just woken up, he looked tired. Y/N gave him a minute to sit up and gather his thoughts.

“So?”

“It worked.”

Lambert didn’t waste time explaining. He got up, grabbed his swords and rest of the equipment, and left the room. Y/N followed.

“What did you see?”

“Vesemir will know what to do. Come on.” he hurried her, taking sharp left turn on the main corridor.

“It’s the middle of night!” Y/N reminded him.

“I’m certain he won’t mind.” Lambert said and stopped himself in front of the last door in dim corridor. He grabbed the knob and, without knocking first, pushed the doors and let himself in.

Vesemir, who was sitting next to the window, on an old wooden chair, immediately stood up.

“I know where he is.” Lambert said.

Vesemir’s lips slightly parted. He didn’t even attempt to hide his surprise.

“Kaer Seren.” Lambert said calmly but Y/N immediately heard there was something else behind those words. Vesemir started pacing around the room, mummering occasional swear words for himself.

“You know that place?” Y/N asked, realizing that the answer was obvious but she wanted to be included.

Lambert looks at Vesemir for the explanation. The older witcher doesn’t say anything but approaches the small wooden box that laid on his nightstand and opens it. He reaches inside and Y/N immediately realises he’s holding the letters they got from Geralt’s abductors.

“You see, Y/N, the person who did this, chose that place for a reason.” he says, handling the letter to Y/N. She approaches and slowly takes them from his unsteady hands.

“Kear Seren, or Caer y Seren, if you prefer Elder, used to belong to witcher school of the Griffin. Through decades, the Griffins gathered a massive collection of books about magic in their library. Council of Mages did not like this - mostly because the Griffins refused to share their knowledge. So, naturally, when they got their chance, mages destroyed the castle and its residents. The school never recovered. They are, of course, a few of its members left, but they don’t have a home to return to once the winter hits.”

“That’s…awfully depressing, actually.” Y/N admits, glancing at the letters in her hands.

“But that…That is supposed to be a lesson for us.” Vesemir says with a hint of warning in his voice.” For Geralt.”

Y/N’s throat tightens. “Are you suggesting that the Mages did this to-”

“I am not suggesting anything just yet.” he interrupts her.

Vesemir knew how this whole situation looked like.

Lambert turns to Y/N. “If this was your kind-”

“My kind is not me. I’m helping you and your friend. Do not forget that, witcher!” Y/N warns him, slightly raising her voice. Lambert’s jaw tightens and he slowly starts to walk towards Y/N. “That won’t make much difference to me if it turns out they hold him captive.”

Y/N felt the rage ignite inside her. She starts marching in Lambert’s direction, lifting her arm up to summon the spell. “You arrogant fuck, how dare- “

“Alright, that’s enough!” Vesemir stands between them, raising hands to stop them both from coming any closer. “Let’s talk about this in the morning. Everyone is tired and there’s nothing we can do in the middle of the night.” he says calmly. Neither Lambert or Y/N say anything. They both still stare at each other over Vesemir’s shoulder.

“Come, Y/N. I’ll show you your room.” Vesemir adds. Y/N hesitates for a moment, but decides to join him in peace and quiet. They leave the room without another word, leaving Lambert behind. Y/N notices just now that she was tightly griping the letters in her hand.

They walk for a while down the dark corridor, Y/N’s realizing her heart was still beating quickly from the rage she felt back there.

When they finally reached the guest room, exhaustion and weariness suddenly overcome her. It seemed like her conversation with Jaskier from this morning was weeks ago.

“I’m sorry for what Lambert said back there. We are all quite tense since we received those letters.” Vesemir says, discomfort written all over his face.

“No offense, Vesemir, but I really don’t want to talk about him right now. I really need some rest.” Y/N says honestly. Vesemir nods.

“Of course. Get some sleep. We will talk in the morning.”

Find me.

*****

Y/N sits up in her bed, covered in sweat and breathing heavily. For a few seconds, she’s not sure where she is. At first, she thought it was the castle from her dreams.

Y/N wipes away the sweat from her forehead and takes a long breath to steady herself.

That dream kept repeating itself all over again for a while now but this time it felt more tense, like she was running out of time. But why?

As soon as she looked around the dark cold room, she realized this is still Kaer Morhen.

Y/N takes another glance around the room and then slowly gets up to dress herself. It was barely morning – the sun was shyly peaking behind the snowy mountains. She wraps her winter cloak around her tired body – is seemed that this castle was cold no matter the season.

Suddenly she hears a light knock on the doors.

Her dream is going to have to wait again.

Y/N opens the door. It was Jaskier.

“You’re awake, good. If you’re already packed, we can go right away. Vesemir and the others are almost ready to go.” he says, entering the room and walking around. Y/N raises eyebrows.

“Go where?”

“To Kaer Seren, of course!” he says tensely rubbing palms together. “To find Geralt.”

“Jaskier.” Y/N starts, but stops because she wasn’t sure what to say to her friend. He raises eyebrows waiting for her response.

“I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.” she says, remembering her fight with Lambert from the last night.

“What? To save him?” Jaskier asks, crossing arms on his chests.

“I’m not saying that!” Y/N answers immediately. “But it might be better if they all go without me.” she speaks softly, feeling the anxiety in her voice. Her friend frowns but doesn’t say anything right away.

“They? You know I’m going as well, right? I know he isn’t your friend. Not even someone you know well. But I do. He’s one of my closest friends, Y/N. I can’t just sit here and wait for someone else to save him. I just can’t. So please” he approaches her slowly. “Do this for me. I’ll own you. I’ll even pay you.” he adds.

Y/N shakes her head. She felt horrible now.

“Jaskier, this has nothing to do you with the money. Or favours.”

“Then what else do you want me to offer you?” Jaskier asks, his voice almost cracking from his pleads.

Y/N takes a long breath and looks away.

“What did Vesemir tell you exactly?” she asks after a few seconds.

“That Geralt is held at Kaer Seren and that we need to go.” Jaskier answers, slowly losing his patience with Y/N.

“Jaskier. His captors might be someone who relies on Chaos.” she finally says.” Someone just like me.”

Jaskier opens his mouth to speak but stops himself. Y/N could almost see his thought process all over his face.

“Y/N, Vesemir wouldn’t-”

“But Lambert would.”

“You’re helping us. You’re on our side!” Jaskier exclaims.

Suddenly, the door of her room opens fully and they both turn around. Redheaded witcher crosses his arms and leans shoulder against the doorframe.

“But when the time comes, would you kill your own brothers and sisters for one pitiful witcher?”

Neither Jaskier nor Y/N say anything.

“That’s what I thought. And that’s why she’s not coming with us.” Lambert says, his eyes pierced on Y/N. She stares back, trying to hide her discomfort.

“Eavesdropper. And in matter of fact, I am.” she responds. Jaskier looks at her, not trying to hide his surprise.

“You are?” he asks quietly.

“Yes, I am.” she says, still looking at Lambert. He scowls, slightly shaking his head. Y/N doesn’t say anything. She didn’t know why she agreed to this.

She was aware this was dangerous for her. Lambert was right. Would she be able to kill a sorceress or a mage that was standing on their way?

But now it was too late. She agreed to come. She let him provoke her again. And this time, it was more serious.

“Alright. But let’s clear up some things, witch.” Lambert slowly walks towards her, until he’s just a couple of centimetres away from her face.

“If I, just a for second, doubt your intentions” he glances over her entire face. Y/N doesn’t move.

He’s standing too close.

“You’re done.” he says quietly. Y/N clenches her jaw but doesn’t lower her eyes.

“Get out of my sight, witcher.” she barely uttered the words. She wasn’t even sure if she spoke them louder than a whisper.

“Gladly.” he instantly responds and pulls back, leaving the room without another glance at her. And just like that, he was gone.

Y/N finally takes a breath. She wasn’t even aware she was holding it in until he was gone.

“Woah.” Jaskier says quietly, glancing towards the door as if he was expecting Lambert to come back.

“What?” Y/N asks.

“He really-”

“Hates me for no reason?” Y/N interrupts him. Jaskier slightly tilts his head, still looking towards the door as if he’s waiting for Lambert to come back.

“No, I don’t think that’s hate.”

Y/N raises eyebrows at her friend. “Is this witcher’s way of showing fondness? If so, I’m not so sure I want to save your friend anymore.” Y/N says.

Jaskier grins. “Geralt is not that bad.” he says but his grin slowly fades away.

“Y/N, are you really going to help us find him?”

Y/N slowly nods. “I will.”

“What changed your mind?” he asks cautiously. Y/N shrugs her shoulder.

“I…I’m not really sure. But I’ll do my best to help you and your friend.” she admits. Jaskier looks at her for couple of seconds and then cleans his throat.

“Alright then, that’s good enough for me. We should be on our way then!” he says, sounding more enthusiastically this time. Y/N agrees, and turns around to look for her bag. There was no reason to wait, they should be on their way as soon as possible.

“Vesemir and the others are already in the main hall. We should join them.” Jaskier says, heading towards the doors.

Y/N grabs the bag from the wooden chair and heads towards her friend. Just as she was about leave the room, she notices those letters that Vesemir gave her sitting on table next to the door.

Y/N grabs them, not really sure why would she need them.

When they finally joined Vesemir and the other witchers in the main hall, the sun had just fully risen and the day was about to begin.

“Y/N we need your assistance again.” Vesemir says after they all formed a circle in the middle of hall. Y/N counted – there was 6 of them. Vesemir, Lambert and Coen were standing with bags over their shoulders while Ciri, the only female witcher Y/N ever met, was holding only her silver sword, nervously switching weight from one leg to another. Jaskier gave Ciri a warm, comforting look but the girl looked at Y/N. Y/N tried to smile but it felt forced. There was nothing comforting or cheerful in conversation they were about to have.

“How can I help?” Y/N asks, turning to Vesemir.

“We need a portal. To Kaer Seren.”

Lambert and Coen groaned. Ciri gave them a warning look.

“Babies.” she mutters, crossing her arms.

Y/N nervously swallows. She wasn’t particularly good at making portals. Being oneiromancer didn’t require creating them anyway. Especially not so far away from her current position.

Or for so many people at once.

“I’m…I’m not sure if that’s good idea.” she honestly tells Vesemir.

“Why not?” Jaskier asks.

“Firstly, I’m oneiromancer – we don’t use portals as our primary form of transportation. Secondly, traveling that far with so much people cannot be done without huge risk.”

“What are the risks?” Jaskier asks carefully.

“Are you joking, bard?” Lambert interjected. “I’m not risking shit.”

“Cowards!” Ciri is slowly losing her patience. She turns to Vesemir. “Let me do it, please!”

“Child, we talked about this.” he speaks softly with the girl, disregarding her infuriation. “We need intractable portals. Yours could be traced from other side of Continent.”

“I don’t think that’s possible for anyone else either. Portals of those proportions are just too noticeable.” Y/N answers.

“I say we ride. That’s the safest option.” Lambert suggests.

“Ride to Kaer Seren is almost week long! They will kill him before we even pass Caingorn!” Ciri groans.

“They won’t kill him.” Vesemir says calmly. Ciri tilts her head and raises her eyebrows.

“How can you be so sure about that?”

Everyone is looking at Vesemir now.

“Because he’s being held as a warning. Those letters…they wouldn’t send it unless they want something from us. Something in exchange for Geralt.���

“Or someone.” Y/N adds. Lambert looks at her.

“What do you mean?” Vesemir asks before Lambert had a chance to speak.

Y/N takes a long breath, stopping herself before saying something that could trigger a new argument.

She carefully formed her next words looking at Ciri.

“If they want someone - “

“She thinks we are holding someone in our cells that they might want back.” Lambert says, crossing arms on his chests. He didn’t sound intimidating this time.

This time, he sounded like he was…mocking her. Y/N’s lips parted but she didn’t know what to say.

Ciri and Coen raise eyebrows at Y/N.

“That’s not what I meant!” Y/N says, realizing how terrible that sounded.

“No? Enlighten us then.” he shrugs. Everyone is looking at her. Even Jaskier, who has never been this quiet since Y/N met him.

“I was thinking… they might want someone else, but couldn’t get to them. Someone like Ciri.” Y/N tells him, but looks over to Ciri. Whitehaired woman looked enraged.

“I don’t care! Just because you think they might want me, won’t stop me from saving Geralt. End of discussion.”

“Cirilla.” Vesemir warns her and the girl’s expression soften a bit. “Y/N might be right.”

“Are you seriously agreeing with her!?” Ciri exclaims, stepping forward.

“I do.” Vesemir responds calmly, but lifts his palm when Ciri was about to protest again. “But I still think you should come with us.” he adds. Ciri stays quiet for a second and then nods. She glances at Y/N with some sharpness in her expression but doesn’t say anything.

“So here is what I suggest we do.” Vesemir says when he realizes Ciri calmed down. “Y/N. You’re going to make a portal. But here’s the catch – you’re not taking us to Kaer Seren.” he adds.

“No?” Y/N asks, slightly nervous when portals are brought up again. One look at Lambert and Coen and Y/N figures they might be as well.

“You are going to take us halfway. To Hengfors.”

#something in the orange #the witcher #the witcher fic #lambert the witcher #lambert #lambert fic #lambert fanfiction #lambert x reader #lambert x y/n #witcher x y/n #reader fanfic #jaskier #coen #vesemir #ciri #geralt #geralt of rivia

[hudine]

Part 2 of my latest fic. Read part 1 here. Relatives of Witchers have been kidnapped and made to undergo the trails. Jaskier included.

@xxxx|}::::::::::::::::::::> <::::::::::::::::::::{|xxxx@

They'd barely settled in when a muffled voice emanated from the mage's pocket. Alfie retrieved an ornate box and briefly presented it to the group. "Xenovox. It lets us communicate over long distances."

"We've located them, Alfie! But Aidan lost his head and charged in, with the others following suit! The place is swarming with Nilfgaardian soldiers. We need any backup you can muster."

"Bloody cats. Always so battle-hungry. I've reached the wolves. I'll portal there with as many volunteers as I can muster," Alfie responded, returning the box to his pocket.

"Was that Reidrich?" Vesemir inquired, incredulous. Reidrich was ancient even when Vesemir was a youth, the very mage who had subjected him to the trials.

"A friend rescued him from a dire state in a Nilfgaardian prison about ten years ago. The old man has never truly recovered. He's been in hiding with me ever since. But enough about that, do I have any volunteers to join me?"

"I'm in," Geralt declared immediately, anxiety gnawing at him. He fervently hoped he wasn't too late to save Jaskier. Nightmarish scenarios concerning his friend's fate plagued his thoughts since learning of his disappearance.

"If Aidan's involved, count me in," Lambert interjected. Shortly after, a chorus of Witchers voiced their willingness to help. Most pledged their assistance, with only a few like Vesemir choosing to remain behind to safeguard the keep and prepare for the return of their captured kin.

One of the perks of being a mage from the Wolf School was Alfie's exemption from the wards that prevented mages from portaling in and out of the keep. Without hesitation, he created a portal to Reidrich's location. As the Witchers stepped through, they braced themselves for battle. Their new surroundings suggested they were in a secluded keep in the south, given the climate.

The scene was pandemonium as the Witchers clashed with the Nilfgaardian soldiers. However, they had the upper hand in speed and strength. The soldiers were no match for the combined might of the thirty Witchers — twenty that Alfie had transported and the initial ten already with Reidrich.

The fortress was a maze of cold stone and echoing hallways, each one seeming more confusing than the last. Geralt's senses, fine-tuned by years of experience and alchemical enhancements, were overwhelmed by the scent of blood, sweat, and fear. Yet one scent, one he would know anywhere, was pulling him forward: Jaskier's.

The sound of clashing steel and cries of pain reverberated around him, but Geralt's focus remained singular: find Jaskier. His heart raced, not from the battle but from a fear he refused to acknowledge. Every corner he turned, every door he kicked down, he feared the worst, but he pushed forward with even more determination.

As Geralt fought his way through the corridors, dispatching Nilfgaardian soldiers with calculated precision, the weight of his emotions grew heavier. His memories of Jaskier flashed before him - the countless songs written in his honour, the shared laughs, and the quiet moments by the campfire. Deep down, he realised that his connection with Jaskier went far beyond mere friendship, though he'd never admitted it aloud.

Coming upon a heavily guarded chamber, Geralt's senses screamed a warning. He lunged into action, his silver sword dancing as an extension of himself. One by one, the guards fell until the room was silent.

He pushed the chamber doors open, and a scene of horror met his eyes. Jaskier, pale and unconscious, was strapped to a table, his shirt torn open. Next to him, a set of vials and instruments bore the unmistakable signs of the Trial of the Grasses - a torturous procedure that few survived. The trial had just begun, the first of the alchemical concoctions dripping into Jaskier's veins.

Geralt rushed forward, his heart pounding louder than ever before. With deft fingers, he unstrapped Jaskier and cradled him in his arms. Jaskier's skin was clammy, his breath shallow. The realisation hit him like a blow: the jovial bard, the one constant in his tumultuous life, was in grave danger. And the thought of losing him was unbearable.

Gently brushing a lock of hair from Jaskier's face, Geralt whispered a promise, "I won't let you go, not now."

“He’s started. So has the others in here. Once the process starts there is no stopping or it will kill him. I’d say you know this but I forget how young you are with that white hair. You’ve never seen someone go through the process before. Put the straps back on, it seems cruel but it’s necessary to stop him from hurting himself. Damned mages responsible have portaled out and we’re going to be too busy getting these six people through the trails to trace them,” Alfie explained and started grabbing alchemical mixtures to use next, hating to have to do this procedure on his own son.

Geralt's eyes blazed with fury, his grip tightening around the hilt of his sword. But as he looked down at Jaskier, his rage was replaced by a deep-rooted fear. The man in his arms, the one who had been by his side through thick and thin, was now facing one of the deadliest challenges known to Witchers. And he was defenceless against it.

"I understand," Geralt rasped, laying Jaskier back down on the table and reluctantly securing the straps. Each click of the buckle felt like a betrayal. He watched as Jaskier's chest rose and fell in shallow, laboured breaths. "There has to be something we can do."

Alfie, despite the steel in his voice earlier, looked wearied by the responsibility. "The Trial of the Grasses is unpredictable. Some don't survive the initial stages, while others come out changed, but alive. All we can do is monitor him and the others, administer the mixtures in the correct sequence, and hope."

Geralt's jaw clenched, the helplessness gnawing at him. He had faced countless foes, countless challenges, but this... this was different. This was Jaskier. The one who sang songs of his heroics, who saw past the stoic facade to the man beneath. The one he cared for more than he'd ever admitted.

Alfie approached with a vial in hand, his face etched with determination. "This is the next mixture. It will... it will be painful. For all of them."

Without waiting for a response, Alfie began administering the concoction to each of the six. Their reactions were immediate and visceral: bodies arching in pain, guttural screams echoing through the chamber. Geralt's heart shattered as he watched Jaskier convulse, but he held the bard's hand tightly, whispering words of encouragement and silently pleading with any higher power that might be listening.

Hours seemed to stretch into an eternity. Geralt stayed by Jaskier's side, offering what little comfort he could, while both Alfie and Reidrich tirelessly moved between the six, attending to their needs and ensuring the process went as smoothly as possible.

As the night wore on, the convulsions lessened, and a stillness settled over the chamber. The ordeal was far from over, but for now, there was a brief respite. Geralt leaned close to Jaskier, pressing his forehead to the bard's, willing him to fight, to survive.

And as dawn's first light filtered into the room, hope lingered in the air, fragile and precious.

In the dimly lit chamber, as the first rays of dawn pierced through, the rhythmic sounds of six slow-beating hearts filled the room. Geralt, Alfie, and Reidrich looked at each other, the weight of relief evident in their eyes.

"I've never seen anything like it," Reidrich murmured, awe evident in his voice. "Every single one of them survived. It's unheard of."

Alfie, ever the pragmatist, pulled out a small device to check their vitals. "The heartbeats... they're consistent with a Witcher's," he confirmed.

“So it’s true. There really is something inherited that let’s them survive the trails,” Reidrich continued.

Geralt, holding Jaskier's hand, looked contemplatively at the bard's face. "So, you're saying that there's something in their blood, something passed down that ensured their survival?"

"Precisely," Alfie said. "Though it's been largely dismissed as a superstition, today's events might just prove the theory."

The Witchers took great care in moving the six new Witchers, ensuring they were stable before embarking on the journey back to Kaer Morhen through a portal. The fortress, perched high in the mountains, was now home to around twenty boys — each recovering from the ordeal of the Trials. They had been rescued by a joint effort of Witchers from different schools the two wolf school mages had brought together and it had seemingly healed some old wounds between the schools in the process.

The vast, sprawling halls of Kaer Morhen echoed with soft, pained whimpers. Each child and young adult bore the mark of the torturous Trials, their bodies weak and feeble, struggling to adjust to the newfound alchemical enhancements. The stillness of the fortress was broken only by the gentle murmurs of Vesemir and Eskel, offering comforting words to the recovering Witchers.

Vesemir, with centuries of experience, tended to each boy with an almost paternal care. Though he had seen countless Witchers undergo the Trials voluntarily, witnessing these young souls being forced into this life was a pain he hadn't felt in a long time. He murmured soft words of reassurance, his fingers gently wiping away tears or patting a trembling shoulder.

The shallow pools were a haven for these new Witchers. Warm and therapeutic, the waters eased their aching muscles and provided a sanctuary from the sensory overload that they were now experiencing. Eskel, with his gentle demeanour, was meticulous in ensuring each child's safety — adjusting floatation devices, darkening the room, or gently inserting beeswax plugs into hypersensitive ears.

The soft splashing of water and the muted cries of the recovering Witchers were interrupted by the heavy footfalls of Geralt. He carried in his arms a figure that of Jaskier, the ever-enthusiastic bard. But now, the usually vibrant young man was pale, with dark circles under his closed eyelids, betraying the trauma of the Trials he had endured. Even in his weakened state, his grip on Geralt was firm, as though the White Wolf was his only tether to the world.

Vesemir's eyebrows furrowed with worry upon seeing Jaskier. "The Trials were never meant for someone his age," he murmured, motioning for Geralt to lay him down in one of the quieter pools.

Geralt gently laid Jaskier into the warm water, taking special care to ensure his head was comfortably positioned. Jaskier's face twitched slightly at the touch of water, but otherwise, he remained still, the soft rise and fall of his chest the only indication that he was still with them.

"He's strong," Geralt whispered, more to himself than to Vesemir. "He's survived more than any bard should ever have to."

Vesemir placed a comforting hand on Geralt's shoulder. "We'll do everything we can for him, and for all of them. But remember, the Trials do more than just transform the body. They change the very essence of a person."

The White Wolf's heart raced as he watched Jaskier's eyelids flutter open, revealing confused now yellow cat slit eyes. "Geralt?" Jaskier's voice was weak but unmistakably his.

Relief washed over Geralt. "I'm here, Jaskier. You're safe now."

#the witcher #jaskier #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt of rivia #fanfic #fanfiction #canon? what’s canon?

[aramblingjay]

And when it's hard (I'll place your head into my hands) Established Geraskier, hurt/comfort, modern AU (1K)

Geralt has a bad night. Jaskier helps.

ao3

-

Geralt calls him at three in the morning, and Jaskier picks up before he’s even fully awake, heart hammering in his chest.

“Is everything okay?” he asks, dread crawling up his spine.

“Need you here,” rasps the voice on the other side. It’s Geralt but also not Geralt, small and shaky and hollowed-out.

Jaskier gives himself fifteen seconds to throw on clothes, and then he runs.

-

Geralt opens the door looking like a shell of himself.

A thousand questions clamor in Jaskier’s throat, but he swallows them all away at the watery shine in Geralt’s eyes—he hasn’t seen him cry in years, and this is the closest he’s looked in about that long. What Geralt needs right now isn’t to be bombarded.

“Can I come in?” he asks instead, even though they haven’t needed that kind of formality in forever. He hopes it’ll help, in some way, letting Geralt have control over what’s happening.

Geralt nods. He doesn’t like to speak too much on a good day, and today is not a good day. If Geralt makes a single sound tonight that isn’t a grunt, it’ll be a surprise.

Jaskier doesn’t mind. They have many ways of understanding each other.

“Ciri?” he asks, half expecting to see the little rugrat emerge from behind one of Geralt’s legs at the mere mention of her name, even though it’s hours past her bedtime. She’s Geralt’s shadow in every way, and Geralt indulges her like he would no one else.

But Geralt shakes his head and points upward with his index finger, indicating she’s already in bed.

Oh, thank god. Geralt wouldn’t want her to see him like this, but she won’t fall asleep unless he reads her a bedtime story—it’s a catch-22 that Jaskier is more than happy they get to avoid.

Satisfied there’s no imminent work required of him, Jaskier makes a beeline for the living room couch, sensing without having to be told that this isn’t a bedroom kind of conversation. He nearly smiles when he sees Roach already curled up on an armrest, her eyes tracking his every step. She has a sixth sense when it comes to Geralt, and he doubts she’s slept at all tonight.

The sounds of Geralt making tea filter in from the kitchen, and he settles into his usual spot. This is a familiar routine, Geralt disappearing into the kitchen when he needs a moment to calm himself. Jaskier just strokes a hand down Roach’s back, taking the fact that she’s in here with him instead of sitting right at Geralt’s feet as a good sign, and waits.

It doesn’t take long. Geralt comes in with two mugs of tea a few minutes later, one still steaming and the other clearly having cooled. Jaskier takes the latter from him with a nod of thanks, noticing the way Geralt sits on the opposite couch instead of beside him, the way Roach immediately perches herself on top of Geralt’s toes, the way Geralt’s eyes are no less glassy than they were when he opened the door.

Geralt takes a sip of tea. He’s using the mug Eskel bought him last year, Jaskier notes absently, a gleaming black emblazoned with the silhouette of a wolf. It’s easier to look at the mug than to look at Geralt’s face, at the pain so clearly written into every line.

“Darling,” he starts quietly, having learned from experience it’s better not to use Geralt’s name when he’s untethered like this, “how can I help?”

What’s wrong will come later. That involves words and emotions and complicated thoughts, giving a voice and a shape to the pain. Comfort is simpler.

Geralt shakes his head minutely in a way that Jaskier takes to mean I don’t know I just needed you here, which would elate him if he wasn’t too busy worrying Geralt might crumble into tiny pieces right before his eyes.

“Okay. That’s okay. Can I come over there?”

A nod, and Jaskier moves slowly, cautiously, to sit beside Geralt. It’s not that he’s worried Geralt would hurt him—never, he would never—and more that startling Geralt now might be what tips him over the edge, and Jaskier needs to be sure he’s ready to catch him before letting that happen.

“Will you lay down with me, darling?” he asks after several minutes. They’re close enough that he can feel Geralt’s warmth all over his right side, but no part of them is touching, and he wants to remedy that immediately.

Only if Geralt wants.

Geralt takes in a deep breath and lets it out. The shaky tremor on his exhale rattles in Jaskier’s chest like a bullet.

Then Geralt brings his hands up from his lap and signs, no bed.

“No bed, just here on the couch,” Jaskier agrees immediately.

Several seconds pass. Geralt nods again.

“Should I sign?” Jaskier asks, carefully forming the words with his hands as he says them. Sometimes sound is overwhelming too.

But Geralt is shaking his head even before he’s done, signing something back faster than Jaskier can interpret. He’s much more adept at signing since meeting Geralt, and getting better every day, but there’s still a difference to the speed Geralt normally uses with him versus with his family, and moments like this remind him why.

Want to hear your voice, Geralt signs again, slower this time, each word enunciated in a separate motion.

“Can I sing you something?”

Geralt shrugs, but his eyebrows furrow in a way that Jaskier understands.

“Alright. C’mere, darling.”

He pulls Geralt’s head into his lap, grateful as ever for their extra-long couch, and runs his fingers through Geralt’s hair. When Geralt lets out a low, quiet rumble, the one that means pleasure, Jaskier smiles and does it again.

“There you go. Thank you for letting me be here,” he murmurs, knowing Geralt will be able to hear him. “I’m glad you called me.”

Jaskier fully expects the grumble that follows, a disquieted protest that means everything from I’m sorry I bothered you to I don’t deserve this to all the other terrible things Geralt thinks about himself when there’s no one around to remind him otherwise. He fully expects it, but it breaks his heart anyway.

“Shh, none of that. It’s not a hardship to hold you, darling. You know I hate when you suffer alone.”

Geralt stays quiet, but one of his hands reaches out to grab Jaskier’s in a vice grip, and it’s more than answer enough.

“Not going anywhere,” Jaskier whispers, and begins to sing.

He cycles through the softest, gentlest melodies he can think of—lullabies his mother would hum after he had a bad nightmare, love songs so sappy he wrote them for an audience of one, snippets of poems whose only tune is the lilt of his voice—and cards his hand through Geralt’s hair in time to the rhythm. The minutes blur into hours, and eventually he looks down to see Geralt’s chest rising and falling in a slow, steady beat, his face soft and slack with sleep.

Tomorrow, when morning dawns, he will ask Geralt what happened, and Geralt will find the words, either with his voice or his hands. But in this moment, he closes his eyes, Geralt a comforting weight in his lap, and they sleep.

#the witcher #geraskier #geraskiersource #geraskier fic #geralt of rivia #jaskier #*fic #*writing

[oldandkinky]

a thought 4 u: omega slick is highly coveted amongst those not involved w an omega since it is such an effective lubricant. character A finds character B "harvesting" their own slick for a quick monies bc they produce a particularly prodigious amount of the stuff.

I'M SO SORRY, ANON, this took for-fucking-ever.

CW: intersex omega, alpha Jaskier, omega Eskel, masturbation, accidental voyeurism, oral sex, anal sex, knotting, squirting, rimming, come eating

I picture game Eskel for this but he's not really described so it's choose your own adventure time.

**************

Jaskier hasn't been travelling with Eskel for long, just a couple of months. They met shortly after The Banquet, after Geralt disappeared to gods know where, and it has been good! Very good, in fact. Eskel is very similar to his brother in many ways, but vastly different in others, and they got on quite well straight away. Jaskier likes to think they've become friends.

It's not unusual for them to get separate rooms when they have enough coin, and usually Jaskier makes thorough use of those nights, finding at least one willing partner to mess up the sheets with. It's never really a problem - people love bards, and they can usually be coaxed into spreading their legs for him with a few well-planned compliments.

Not tonight, though.

No, tonight he returns to the door of their inn room alone and a little tipsy, and his new plan is to crawl into bed and just... enjoy that. Alone. On his own.

Ugh.

His hand is already on the door handle when he hears the noise coming from their room. It's a soft little sound, a gasp, maybe, and he flushes hotly all the way to his belly button. That maybe-a-gasp came from Eskel, Jaskier is sure of it.

He should leave, probably. Turn around and try his luck again, give his... friend the privacy to do whatever it is he's doing, but then Eskel moans and curses softly, and Jaskier is dragged towards the door as though pulled by a magnet. The inn isn't fancy, the doors are roughly made, and there's a gap big enough between door and wall to see through.

Jaskier knows he shouldn't.

He does it anyway. Nobody ever accused him of possessing a lot of self-control.

#oldandkinky #oldandkinky prompts #oldandkinky omegaverse #oldandkinky jaskier/eskel

[tellhound]

Fandom: The witcher

Pairings: none

Characters: Jaskier, Yennefer, Geralt

Warnings: depression, anxiety, panic attacks

Words: 3.6k

Also on AO3

Also quick note before the story begins... This will only be the first part of a series. Future fics should hopefully answer some questions this fic might bring.

The Weight Of Living

"I know your secret, bard." The words take Jaskier by surprise and for a moment he stops petting Roach. His heart is suddenly beating fast. Too fast and he knows that the woman behind him can probably hear it.

"And what secret would that be, witch?" he answers, silently cursing himself at how nervous he sounds. No one is supposed to know. But of course it would only be a matter of time before anyone would figure out his "little" secret.

"I know about the nightmares. And I know how you keep drinking yourself to sleep." she says and he relaxes just a little, glad it wasn't the real secret. Because if he's completely honest it's not like he's been trying to hide the drinking or how he sometimes wakes up screaming from the nightmares that he so badly wishes would just disappear. He's beyond tired at this point. The only thing he wants is for it all to end. 

"You've been keeping your eyes on me then I assume." he says and he still can't quite control how his voice shakes when he speaks. "I don't like it."

"Let me help you." Her words take him by surprise and he finally turns towards the mage. But he doesn't stop petting Roach, because the feeling of her soft mane between his fingers is soothing and could possibly be the only thing keeping him from breaking down right there.

He's already exhausted from not getting enough sleep and from constantly being on edge around fires. There's no way he'll be able to stay strong much longer. Especially not if he's being confronted about it.

"Why should I trust you after everything you've done?" He already knows why. Knows she's saved him twice. Yes, the first time had been out of selfishness of wanting "everything" as she'd put it. The second time however... She'd been safe and could have so easily just left him to go to Cintra if she had wanted to. But instead she'd risked everything to save him. Not even to mention how she had sacrificed her own life just weeks ago to save Ciri and everyone else from Voleth Meir. He could only thank the gods that she was still here.

"I think you know why.'' He's not sure if she's just read his mind or not and even if she did he can't find it in himself to be mad about it. If anything maybe she could be able to make sense of the thoughts that keep running through his head whenever he's alone.

"What do you want in return?" He asks because he knows Yennefer, knows she rarely does things for others unless she can gain anything from it.

"Sing me a song." she says with a smile. The hand that's been petting Roach so far goes still. Can it really be true that the one and only Yennefer of Vengerberg wants nothing in payment except for him to sing for her? Surely he must have heard her wrong. "Just one song. That's all I want."

He turns to Roach again and buries his face in her mane as the thought of his lute lying broken somewhere on the docks in Oxenfurt enters his mind. Someone's probably taken it by now and have turned it into firewood or something. And what is a bard really without an instrument?

"Your idea of helping me doesn't involve magic, does it?" he asks her after a while. He doesn't quite want to admit it, but fire isn't the only thing that scares him after his run in with Rience. 

"No. I think this is something that can only be fixed by talking about it. I can, however, try to fix your hand with my magic if you want me to." 

"I... I don't..." he stops and takes a deep breath as he tries to figure out how to tell her that the thing he used to find so fascinating now scares him. He's glad he's still standing with his face in Roach's mane, cause he's not sure he'll be able to stop the tears that are threatening to spill at this point.

He hates how he flinches when he feels Yennefer laying one of her hands on his shoulder and just as quickly as it was placed there she removes it. "Sorry." she says. "I should've asked first if it was okay to touch you."

It's at this point that he turns towards her again and she looks softly at him. "It's fine. I just wasn't expecting it." he says just as the first tears start to fall.

Slowly she extends a hand towards him, giving him time to move away if he doesn't want this. But when he doesn't move she finally cups his face in her hand and softly rubs her thumb over his cheek as he leans into her touch. It's nice, he thinks. Because he doesn't remember the last time anyone touched him in this way. Only remembers all the times and the people that only used him for sex. Though to be fair he'd used them too. If only to feel the touch of someone else's hands on his body. Those hands had never been comforting. Not in the way that Yennefer's hand is bringing him comfort in that moment.

Without even thinking about it he steps forward and brings his arms up around her and buries his face in her neck as the tears continue falling. He used to hate the smell of lilacs and gooseberries that was always in the air whenever she was around. That same smell calms him now.

Yennefer doesn't even seem to hesitate when she hugs him back. "It's okay. Everything's gonna be okay." she says as he's shaking in her arms. She'd probably known for a while now that the bard was not okay. But there was no way she could have known just how easily he would crack when she decided to confront him about it.

He's not sure how long they just stand there when he can hear footsteps from someone approaching them and he tenses up against her, but makes no attempt at leaving the hug.

"There you are. I've been..." Geralt's familiar voice trails off behind them, probably shocked at the scene in front of him. "I'll... I'm gonna leave you two alone."

"Stay." Jaskier says as he looks up at the witcher. "If there's even a tiny part of you that ever cared about me... Please stay." his voice breaks on the last words.

"I'd stay forever if you asked me to." Geralt says and a moment later he's by their side, slowly rubbing Jaskier's back in a comforting way. It doesn't take long for one of Jaskier's hands to reach out and grab Geralt's wrist, almost as if he's scared the witcher is going to leave anyway if no one physically holds him back.

The three of them don't know how long they stay there, Jaskier crying, Yennefer whispering sweet nothings in his ear and Geralt rubbing his back before the bard releases them both and takes a step back before he uses his sleeves to wipe away the last remaining tears on his face.

"Sorry..." he says and looks down on the ground, ashamed of what had just happened. "I didn't... Sorry..."

"Never apologize for your feelings, Jaskier." Geralt says, sounding softer than Jaskier has ever heard him sound in the two decades they've known each other. For a moment he thinks that if something like this had happened before the mountain, Geralt would either have told him to suck it up or just left. Maybe both.

"I know. It's just... I'm just so tired. It's like we're all in the ocean and everyone's figured out how to swim except me. So I just keep flailing my arms in an attempt to stay above the water, but instead I just end up sinking down, down, down. And with every breath I take, my lungs just get filled with more water. Sometimes I think that maybe it would be better if I just... gave up and let the water completely consume me." he admits and once again he can feel his heartbeat speeding up with the anxiety he feels from so openly admitting what he's kept a secret for so long. 

Jaskier is not sure what he expects to happen next, but it certainly isn't Geralt hugging him so hard that he can barely breathe, almost as if the man is suddenly afraid that he'll lose the bard forever if he lets go. And honestly isn't that pretty much what he had just admitted could happen?

"What can we do to help you, Jaskier?" Yennefer asks and fuck when did people actually start caring about him?

"Maybe letting me breathe would be a good start." he half jokes, but it seriously is hard to breathe with how hard Geralt is holding him.

"Sorry." the witcher says as he lets him go and takes a step back.

"I don't think there's anything you can do, to be honest. I think this is something I have to get through alone."

"But you're not alone anymore, Jaskier. You have us now." Yennefer says and if only he could believe that. But it's been weeks since they got to Kaer Morhen and they've barely spoken to him since then. Though to be fair he's stayed out of their way on purpose a lot of the time, knowing they're busy with training Ciri and whatever else they've been doing.

"It's not like you can fight my monsters for me though."

"You're right. We can't do that." Geralt answers and Jaskier's heart immediately drops even though he already knew it was true. "But we can be here for you. We can listen to what you're going through and take some of the burden from your shoulders. And maybe then fighting those monsters won't seem as daunting anymore." hearing those words Jaskier starts crying again. 

"When did you get so good with words? Your vocabulary used to mostly consist of grunts that all meant different things." Or maybe you just never cared enough about me to use words. He knows that's not true though. Knows there were countless times Geralt could just have left if he had wanted to. And yet the witcher had always made sure to not walk faster than Jaskier could keep up with, taking plenty of breaks and making sure he always got a minimum of one meal a day. Not to mention all the times he'd saved the bard's life. Geralt had always cared. It had just been hard for Jaskier to see that after the mountain.

"Jaskier…" Geralt starts, thinking his words through to not say the wrong thing. "I had a lot of time to think once I started traveling the roads alone again and I realized I never treated you with the respect you deserve and that relationships can't function without proper communication. So I'm… I'm sorry for what I said. I'm sorry for abandoning you. It's not gonna happen again."

There it is. The apology that Jaskier has been waiting for ever since Geralt came and rescued him from that cell in Oxenfurt and now that he's gotten it he's not really sure how to react. But he feels lighter, almost like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders. "Thank you. Geralt, I…" he stops himself, for once being the one unsure of what words to use.

"What time is it?" He settles on asking instead. He's beyond exhausted from all the crying and sharing of his feelings. All he wants is to crawl into bed and not return to the world for a few weeks. Maybe a few months.

"It's late. Or very early depending on how you look at it." Yennefer answers his question. Jaskier had almost forgotten she was still in the stable with them. "If we're done with this conversation for now I'm going to bed."

"Good choice. You need all the beauty sleep you can get." He tells her, trying not to smile.

"You're one to talk. Have you looked at yourself in a mirror lately?" she answers without hesitating.

"Darling, I'm beautiful and you know it." he says as he winks at her. He’s not sure he believes it himself anymore, but if he lies enough then maybe it could become the truth.

Yennefer doesn’t give him a reply. Instead she just starts walking out of the stable but stope and turns back to the bard and the witcher when she realizes they’re not behind her. “Come on you two. It’s time for bed.” she says and then she starts walking again. To Jaskier's surprise Geralt grabs him by the hand and starts following her.

Neither of them say anything as they walk through the halls of Kaer Morhen to get to their rooms. But for once Jaskier doesn't mind the silence. It isn't making his thoughts spiral down to dangerous places this time. If anything he finds it hard to think about anything at all. Though to be completely fair that could just have been a result of all the sleepless nights he’d suffered through lately.

After a while they reached the hallway with everyone's rooms and Geralt led Jaskier straight by the bard's room and didn't stop until they were in front of his own.

"Geralt… we're not at some inn where we have to share a room. I have my own here." Jaskier says, thinking that Geralt must be a lot more tired than he looks to make a mistake like this.

"Sorry, I was just…" Geralt started but trailed off, unsure of exactly what to say. For once Jaskier stayed quiet to allow the witcher to gather his thoughts.

A moment later Geralt sighed before he started talking again. "When we used to walk the path together it was hard not to notice that you always seemed to sleep better those nights we were forced to share a bed. So I figured that if we shared a bed… maybe you'd actually get to sleep again."

Whoever said witcher's were heartless creatures had obviously never spent more than a minute with them.

"Geralt… I… Are you sure about this?" he asks, remembering how during the first couple years Geralt would sleep on the floor if there was only one bed in the room they shared and how he'd very reluctantly had started sharing the beds eventually with a warning to the bard to stay on his own side of it.

"You're my friend, Jaskier. Friends help each other." Geralt answered as he opened the door and led them into the room.

What happened next wasn't Geralt's fault. Not really. Because Jaskier hadn't actually told him what had happened in Oxenfurt before he'd ended up in jail. But as soon as his eyes fell on the fire that was burning brightly in the fireplace opposite to the bed it suddenly felt like there was no air left in the room

Some part of him knew it was ridiculous, that he was safe in Kaer Morhen and that the fire couldn't hurt him unless he himself walked over there and put his hand into the flames. But he still couldn't stop the tremors in his hands or how he was suddenly hyperventilating, frozen in place where he stood, unable to take his eyes off the flames because all he could think about was being back in that chair.

Geralt steps in front of him, blocking the view of the fire. The witcher's mouth is moving, but Jaskier can't make out a single word, everything sounding as if he's under water and he was never good at reading lips.

"I… I can't… breathe…" he says, managing to choke out as he's hyperventilating. Suddenly his legs buckle underneath him, but Geralt is quick and catches him before he can crash to the ground. And instead he's gently lowered down to the floor. Geralt shifts around a little to get more comfortable before he brings his arms around Jaskier's waist to pull the bard up in his lap.

Not even thinking about it Jaskier buries his face in Geralt's chest just as the tears starts streaming from his eyes and with the uninjured hand he clutches the front of Geralt's shirt so hard he'd be worried it would somehow break the fabric if the panic wasn't still coursing through his body.

It takes a while, but eventually he starts calming down, breathing is getting easier and he can hear the words Geralt is saying to him. "It's alright. You're safe. Everything will be just fine." For a fleeting moment Jaskier wonders if this side of Geralt had always existed and he'd just never gotten to see it or if it's something he's learned over the months they were separated after the mountain.

"Sorry…" he says eventually, loosening his grip on Geralt's shirt, but making no attempt at leaving his lap. "I'm sorry." Sorry I'm such a mess. Sorry you had to see me like this. Sorry I'm no longer the person you used to know. There's a lot of things he feels like he should apologize for, but there will be more time for that later. He's too tired and exhausted right now to put his thoughts into words.

He's almost dozed off there in Geralt's lap when said man carefully nudges him and says his name. "I think we both would be a lot more comfortable in bed." Jaskier wants to say no, tell Geralt that he's plenty comfortable where he is right now. But the witcher does have a point.

Slowly he gets up from the other man's lap and makes his way towards the bed, removing his coat as he does and letting it fall to the floor before he lies down. His back turned towards the fire. If he can't see it, it can't hurt him either.

A moment later Geralt walks up to him and removes his shoes before he places them neatly by the bed. Then he picks up the discarded coat to hang it on a chair.

A little while later Jaskier can feel the mattress dip on the other side when Geralt gets in it and lies down beside him.

"Jaskier."

"Hmm."

"Is it okay if I ask what happened? I've never seen you react that way to anything before." he thinks about Geralt's question for a while. Part of him wants Geralt to know everything that's happened since the mountain. But there's another part of him that knows the witcher will feel guilty about the kidnapping and the torture if he finds out the truth.

"It was the fire that triggered it." he turns around and looks Geralt in the eyes before he continues speaking. "I'm sure you've seen the burns on my hand by now. But I'll tell you all about that some other day."

"I've seen them, yes. I'm sure Yen could help you with that."

Jaskier lets out a bitter laugh at that. "Yeah, well… I'm not exactly fond of magic anymore either. But it's not like I have my lute anymore, so it really doesn't matter."

"Jaskier…" Geralt starts, but whatever he was going to say never comes. Instead the witcher moves closer to him and puts one of his arms on his waist and pulls the bard close to him. At first Jaskier tenses up at this. This was never what they used to do when they had shared a bed on the path. But Geralt is warm and with his arm around him he actually feels safe for once so it doesn't take long before he shifts just a little to lie more comfortably before he lets all his guards down and relaxes. 

They don't say anything more after that. It doesn't take long before Jaskier can feel himself starting to drift off. But before he does there is a knock on the door and Geralt lets out a displeased grunt. Whoever it was at the door opens it anyway.

"Yen? What are you doing here?" Geralt asks quietly.

"Sorry it's just…" she trails off and sighs before she starts speaking again. "I still can't fully control my powers when I'm tired and Jaskier was thinking so loudly a while ago that I just couldn't tune it out and… I guess I just couldn't sleep without seeing that he's okay." she answers honestly and just as quietly as Geralt had done, probably thinking the bard was asleep. "But I can see that he is so I'm just gonna go back to my own bed." She says.

Before she gets the chance to leave though, Jaskier stops her. "Stay." he says. He can't deny that he feels safe with her and the bed is big enough for all three of them if they really squeeze together.

"I'm sorry. What?" she asks, not quite believing what she's just heard.

"Stay." it's more of a mumble this time. Cause he's not really sure how much longer he'll actually be able to stay awake. "If Geralt doesn't mind."

"I don't mind." the witcher answers almost immediately. Jaskier can hear Yennefer closing the door before she walks over to the bed and lies down behind Jaskier. For a moment she just lies there, but eventually she moves closer and throws one arm and a leg over the bard and he lets out a sigh of contentment.

Jaskier knows that there's still a lot of things the three of them need to talk about and figure out, but laying there between the witcher and the mage Jaskier feels more safe than he ever has in his life and it doesn't take long before he drifts off into a deep sleep without any nightmares.

___________

Taglist (let me know if you want on/off it): @luteandsword and @seidenbros I'm tagging you this time since this is the fic I've shown you plenty of lines from

#The witcher #Jaskier #Dandelion #yennefer of vengerberg #Geralt of rivia #julian alfred pankratz #viscount de lettenhove #The Witcher fic #Tellhound writes #Fic

[wintbuffalo]

The witcher

#The witcher series#

#The witcher tv#

It has to take every opportunity to have fun among quite a lot of scenes of kings, queens, generals and magicians debating the nuances of their possible next moves. A horror-tinged twist on Beauty and the Beast develops, which could happily be watched in isolation.Īfter that, though, season two bases itself largely on Sapkowski’s 1994 novel Blood of Elves and is more concerned with slow scene-setting. He’s a raconteur who can make a roast dinner or a hot bath fall magically from the ceiling, but who struggles to find love due to his hairy, tusked face.

#The witcher tv#

In turn, The Witcher in its TV guise began as a monster-of-the-week show and it sticks with that for the first of the new episodes, sending Geralt and Ciri to stay in the mansion of eccentric beast-man Nivellen (Kristofer Hivju). Season one was based on Andrzej Sapkowski’s short stories, since that was initially the Witcher author’s favoured format. If all this is a distraction from The Witcher never really amounting to much, that’s not necessarily a problem. From thingummy.” Here’s Kevin Doyle (Downton Abbey) as a cowardly elf! There’s Graham McTavish (Outlander) as an intimidating intelligence officer! Look out, it’s Simon Callow and Liz Carr (Silent Witness) as a pair of private investigators, poring over parchments in a book-lined hovel! The Witcher also loves to treat us to a top British character actor, the sort who makes you say: “Oh good, it’s … whatshisname. Geralt himself has a prosaic answer to Ciri’s naive suggestion that they seek refuge in a place called Skellige: “You’d be married off to the nearest Lord of Bad Breath.” “Fuck!” says Yennefer when she finds herself regaining consciousness in captivity. If you've after pure escapism, this will definitely be your bag.Even the three main characters, much as they gravely go on about prophecies and dynasties and whatnot, can display an admirable economy of speech – which offsets the grandeur of the landscapes, the palaces and the protagonists’ voluminous capes. To stop their return, Wil, Amberle and Eretria, guided by Allanon, the last druid, must go on a quest to protect the Ellcrys from dying and releasing all the banished demons back into the world.Īustin Butler, who some of you might have seen leading the way in Baz Luhrmann’s lavish new biopic of Elvis Presley this summer, plays Wil, with British actress Poppy Drayon and Ivana Baquero, who you may remember from her performance as a child in Guillermo Del Toro’s breathtaking fantasy Pan’s Labyrinth, playing Amberle and Eretria. These demons have begun to force their way back after being banished from this world to a place known as the Forbidding as a result of a spell performed on an ancient tree called the Ellcrys.

#The witcher series#

HBO Max (US), BBC iPlayer (UK), BiNGE (AU) The Shannara ChroniclesĪ little lighter in tone than The Witcher, but this is pure escapist fantasy, with all the spells and sorcery that comes with it.Īn adaptation of Terry Brooks' bestselling book series The Sword of Shannara Trilogy, The Shannara Chronicls is set in a post apocalyptic world where an Elvin princess, human-elf hybrid and Eretria, a human who raised by a band of thieves, are forced together to defend Earth from demonic forces. A third and final series is due later this year. With James McAvoy, Ruth Wilson, and Lin-Manuel Miranda among the cast, this series captures the wonder and splendor of Pullman’s trilogy of books superbly. After her friend mysteriously disappears, she finds herself entangled in a sinister plot involving stolen children and a quest to understand a mysterious phenomenon called Dust, something the Magisterium is desperate to suppress. The world she lives in is governed by the Magisterium, a strict religious and political body. The story follows Lyra, an orphan who has grown up around the scholars at Jordan College in Oxford. This is more family-friendly than The Witcher, but it's just as wondrous and captivating.īased on Philip Pullman’s groundbreaking young adult series, those books were mangled when they first appeared on the big screen back in 2007, despite a star-studded cast that included Daniel Craig, Nicole Kidman and Ian McKellen, but a team-up between HBO and the BBC has set that right.

#The witcher

[samstree]

“What do you mean he’s faking it? Geralt gets headaches, you should know! Lambert, he’s your brother!”

“Oh, believe me, I know my brother, Buttercup. Pretty boy has you wrapped around his finger. He’s just pretending so you’d be like…this. All touchy-feely and cuddly.”

The air shifts when Lambert must be gesturing wildly at Jaskier and Geralt’s general direction, where the witcher is resting his head on the bard’s thigh. The argument is muffled by the hand Jaskier presses on Geralt’s ear protectively.

It’s too comfortable to move, with Jaskier’s lap as the pillow and his doublet draped over Geralt’s shoulder. The fainting couch he’s lying on practically becomes a cocoon—one that is warm and nice and made from a bard’s love, but Geralt can only get it if he has a headache. Which he conveniently does, recently.

So Geralt duly keeps his eyes closed. He’s supposed to be resting for the pain, after all.

“His senses are heightened,” Jaskier protests, his voice low and careful. “You’ve seen him get overwhelmed by all the smells and noises. Don’t you at least have sympathy for a fellow witcher?”

“My senses are heightened too, and I can tell he’s a shit actor. He’s not even asleep!”

“Shh!” The hand that covers Geralt’s ear tightens. “You’re going to wake him!”

“Ugh, how do I tell you this, you can’t wake someone pretending!”

“Get out.”

Jaskier’s whisper remains low, but the determination seeps into those two words. Even without looking, Geralt can imagine the frown on the bard’s face easily. Oh, Jaskier is getting angry.

“You are not listening, he’s—"

“Out, Lambert.”

Properly angry. Even the younger wolf does not have a retort for the finality in Jaskier’s order. With a few muttered curses about gullible bards, Lambert’s footsteps retreat into the hallway. A door slams shut behind him, and Jaskier flinches even though it’s far away.

Geralt hums unhappily at how much Jaskier has tensed, so he hugs the thighs under his head closer. Gentle hands fuss all over him, tucking in the corners of the doublet and stroking his arm, shoulder, hair. He’s so toasty he could melt right here.

A good person would never take advantage of Jaskier’s affections like this, Geralt knows. Shame he’s not a good person.

Now he can bask in the presence of his bard without interruption. Geralt keeps his face neutral and relaxed, but the triumph makes him almost giddy at the knowledge that Jaskier will take his side every time—

“You know I know, right?”

Jaskier’s whisper comes from above, still soft and gentle and full of love. And perhaps, a hint of amusement.

Geralt freezes like a statue. His breathing stops for a long, long time. It’s a good thing witchers don’t need to breathe that much; it’s bad that his face is also heating up rather quickly in the process.

“Alright, then,” Jaskier says after a moment. His deft fingers trace Geralt’s jawline and give it a little pat. “Sleep tight, witcher mine.”

There is the sound of fabric rustling when Jaskier tries to find a good place to rest his head on the fainting couch. His snores come soon after.

Geralt blinks open his eyes after a while, not daring to move a muscle with Jaskier under him, still a vital part of the nice cocoon. Gradually, the toastiness is bordering on being too hot. He wonders if he’s able to panic while staying completely still, because it certainly fucking feels like it. There’s even sweat on his forehead now.

He does end up developing a headache, and it’s probably well-deserved.

Lambert must never find out.

#geraskier #geraskier fic #fluff #tooth rotting fluff #once again #geralt is a cheeky bastard #jaskier is smart and he does have standards #they just disappear when geralt is involved

[shy-urban-hobbit]

Chapter 2!!!!

Lambert followed as the boy, who had given his name as Billy on the way out, galloped ahead on Aiden’s mare. Fuck, things must be bad if he had Aiden’s horse as well as his medallion.

Lambert found himself thinking that if this was a trap, it was definitely one of the better thought-out ones he’d encountered.

They’d ridden about three miles out from the town before Billy pulled the horse to a halt, “He’s through there.” He said gesturing to a break in the trees. Lambert cursed under his breath; it was too small to lead the animals through.

“Wait here.” He growled as he dismounted and thrust his reins into Billy’s face, “Watch the horses and don’t think I won’t hear if you try to run off with them.”

The boy nodded rapidly, turning pale and smelling slightly apprehensive as Lambert disappeared into the trees.

“Hello there.” Aiden gasped out from where he was propped up against a tree stump. Bleeding heavily and surrounded by dead nekkers. Lambert snarled, anyone with a working pair of eyes would be able to see there were clearly far more than ten, “Was beginning to think I’d made a mistake sending the lad after you.”

Lambert stalked forwards, not caring about the monster corpses he was squishing under his boots, “Billy dragged me away from an afternoon at the Inn. Left him with the horses on the road.”

“Oh, that’s his name? Didn’t catch it.”

Lambert grabbed the satchel he spotted on the top of the stump, trying to fight down the spark of panic at the blood flecks on Aiden’s mouth.

“You taken anything?” He asked as he started rummaging through the satchel, noting the amount of empty vials, “Kiss, Swallow?”

“Didn’t have any Kiss, just some Swallow. Wasn’t enough though. Need-” He hissed as his hand spasmed over a particularly deep gash on his stomach, teeth pink with blood, “Need help.”

“So why send for me, why not send him to get the healer? This needs to come off.” Lambert gave the edge of Aiden’s tunic and armour a tug as he uncorked a vial of Kiss from his own satchel and held it to Aiden’s mouth.

“Can’t always rely on healers. You though-“ He bit back a yelp as Lambert shifted him to start trying to divest him of his upper layers, “Wrong school but still Witcher.”

Lambert couldn’t quite place how that made him feel as looked Aiden over as clinically as possible. From what Vesemir and Geralt had told him of the tournament and Cats as a whole during his younger days, he and Aiden probably both knew no tears would be shed if Lambert just ended him there and then. He could even justify it as a mercy from the sorry state Aiden was currently in. He wanted to ask the Cat what made him so damn sure he would help just because they happened to share this particular brand of damnation. Instead he said, “Some of these need stitching. I want to start with this one.” Gesturing to the stomach wound which was still bleeding sluggishly despite the potions.

“Yaaay.” Aiden said dryly as Lambert lowered him so he was flat on his back, using the Cat’s own tunic as a barrier between him and the forest floor. His eyes started to flutter closed, the adrenaline and anything he’d taken during the fight starting to leave his system.

“Oi. Not yet.” Lambert gave his face a couple of light taps, “No passing out whilst we’re still out here.”

Aiden gave a whine which turned into a grunt as the needle and thread made the first stitch.

“How the fuck did the boy get involved in this?” Lambert blurted out, attempting to keep Aiden awake. He knew enough field first aid, but he really didn’t want Aiden losing consciousness until he was able to at least move him to get him somewhere safer.

“Woodsman’s son. Wrong place, wrong time. Fuckers swarmed me when I tried to keep them away from him.”

“Why not just tell him to run?”

Aiden shook his head, “Would’ve followed him. Had to keep him close. Safe.”

Lambert nodded and gave a hum of acknowledgement, that explained why Billy had been so eager for Lambert to go with him at least.

“You always travel with shit all potions on you?”

Aiden gave a noise which almost sounded offended (although whether that was from the question or from lambert pinching his arm to stop him drifting, he wasn’t sure.).

“Was only supposed to be ten. Fucking Adept could deal with that. Not my fault the cheating fucker lied.”

The questions carried on in the same vein. Lambert making sure to stay away from anything overly personal, feeling like that’d somehow be taking advantage whilst the other Witcher was half delirious from exhaustion and blood loss at this point.

It was when he’d tied off the last stitch to a bite on Aiden’s shoulder and was carrying him back to the horses, he asked what had been at the back of his mind from the start, “What made you so sure I’d still be in town?”

Aiden gave him a slightly dopey smile, his eyes now only a thin line of green through heavy lids, “Just had a feeling.” He didn’t elaborate any further as he chose that moment to slip into unconsciousness.

“Alright.” Lambert sighed, balancing Aiden on the saddle in front of him and motioning for Billy to follow along on Aiden’s mare again.

It wasn’t until later, when the healer was leaving the room Aiden had rented at the Inn Lambert realised that he still had the others medallion in his pocket.

(Sidenote, my brain has Aiden saying the "Hello there." Obi Wan Kenobi style.)

#the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #aiden/lambert #aiden x lambert #lambden #lambert/aiden #lambert x aiden #witcher aiden #witcher lambert #lambert

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

Almost Sweet

i felt like hell a couple days ago and wanted to project a little, and i just wanna see geralt be a little soft and goofy

Pairing: Geraskier- could be read gen tho

CW: teen, geralt feels sick? jask plays nurse a little?

_________________________

Geralt woke with a massive hangover, at least that's what it felt like, but for the life of him, he couldn’t recall having more than a weak ale with dinner the night before. He groaned and rolled over, thinking he possibly drank enough to forget the whole night, though that wasn’t usually the case unless Lambert was involved. His body ached with every movement and his head throbbed no matter how much light he blocked out with the covers, and to make everything worse he was starting to feel nauseous. 

Absolutely nothing was worse than being nauseous in Geralt’s book. He would quite literally rather nearly bleed out or break a bone than throw up.

So when Jaskier greeted him with his perky “Good morning Sleepy Head! Fancy a lie-in today? Suddenly the monsters will hunt themselves? Hm?” Geralt rolled back over and groaned, his stomach doing a backflip at the movement. 

“How much did I drink last night?” Geralt moaned, doing his best to cocoon himself even more. 

He could almost picture the confused scrunch to Jaskier’s nose when he answered, “Nothing? You turned in early with a snide remark about my music giving you a headache.”

“Hm…” It was slowly coming back to him, but all Geralt could really focus on was the way his body was trying to punish him, “Crowd was loud… not you.”

There was a pause where Geralt thought Jaskier might simply saunter out of the room and leave him to suffer in peace, but Melitelle knows he’d never been a lucky man. 

“Geralt? Can I feel your forehead?” Jaskier asked, his voice softening just a touch, a nice compensation for how the dip in the mattress made Geralt’s head spin. The witcher didn’t have the energy to bat Jaskier’s hand away as he gently pulled the covers back and laid the back of his hand over Geralt’s brow. The cool touch was rather nice, actually, and a small pout snuck onto Geralt’s face when the hand disappeared.

Jaskier hummed in thought and slowly got up to grab a rag and wet it in the little basin of water provided, “You’re sick, dear. Didn’t even know witchers could get sick.” He brushed some hairs off of Geralt’s forehead and laid the cool cloth over the too-warm skin. Geralt couldn’t quite stifle a shiver as the rest of him suddenly felt far too cold but still sweaty and hot. 

“Must’ve eaten…” Geralt trailed off and clenched his jaw as a wave of nausea passed over him, “...something bad…” 

“We’ve shared meals for weeks, my friend. You simply caught something fighting monsters in the pouring rain.” Jaskier almost sounded amused in the way that usually made him roll his eyes, but he didn’t have the energy to be gruff. Instead, he just furrowed his brow and pulled the blankets back up to his chin. 

“Try to sleep it off, I’ll be back shortly,” Jaskier whispered, flipping the rag over to the cool side and earning a contented hum from Geralt. 

To Geralt’s disappointment, he got no sleep, only watched the door and wished that Jaskier wasn’t taking so long doing whatever it was he was up to. He’d never in a million years admit he wanted company for company’s sake, but as the minutes ticked on he began to worry that the bard wouldn’t return till after sundown. Maybe he’d found some well-to-do townsfolk and was charming them with inflated tales of adventure for a spot at their table or a cozy bed without a sick witcher. 

It was because of these thoughts, nothing more, that his face lit up when Jaskier finally returned, “You’re back.”

“You look relieved,” Jaskier laughed, setting down a basket on the table and a bucket by the bed.

Geralt could feel his eyes glaze over as Jaskier took the rag from his forehead with a little wince, “Who want’s to stay with a sick witcher?”

“Me,” Jaskier tutted, pulling a mug of steaming liquid from the basket and sitting next to him on the bed, “Drink this.” 

“What is it?” Geralt asked, looking from the cup to Jaskier warily, not out of distrust but definitely not wanting to make himself worse. 

“Poison.” 

A small laugh bubbled up out of Geralt but oh mother of fuck did  it make everything feel worse, “Jask, no,” he moaned, trying not to laugh as Jaskier chuckled at his misery “Don’t be funny. It hurts.” 

“Gods you’re almost sweet when you’re sick,” he observed, tucking a stray hair behind Geralt’s ear and guiding his chin a bit to the side so he could tip the contents of the mug into Geralt’s mouth bit by bit. 

When Jaskier pulled the mug away, satisfied with how much he’d drank Geralt was feeling rather sleepy but still cold, “M’not.”

“Mhm, sure.” Jaskier didn’t seem to bother hiding his sarcasm but the gentle strokes to Geralt’s cheeks and forehead made up for the slight in his book. He briefly thought he should be upset by the affection, that he needed to push Jaskier away for some noble reason, but he was too tired to be noble. And if he couldn’t sleep then at least he could have this? 

“Do you still feel cold?” Jaskier’s voice almost sounded distant and Geralt realized that he was starting to shiver from the light sheen of sweat all over his body. 

When he nodded, eyes still closed tight, though he wasn’t sure when he closed them, Jaskier’s hand disappeared from his forehead. Geralt whined at the loss, only to be jarred back to his upset senses by Jaskeir clambering over him and shuffling under the covers with him. 

He weakly protested as Jaskier enveloped him in a warm embrace, “But you’ll get sick.”

“If I haven’t already, I doubt I will now,” Jaskier soothed, running his fingers through Geralt’s hair, “Just let me know if you think you’re about to be sick.” 

“Mhm…” Geralt nodded, for once allowing himself to settle back into Jaskier and breathe. It was nice to have someone to take care of him for once. 

#geraskier #geraskier fic #the witcher #the witcher fic #the witcher geraskier #geralt #sick geralt #geraskier sick fic #jaskier #jaskier takes care of geralt #i would like snark and cuddles from a bard plz and thank

[geraskierficrecs]

Modern AU Stories

when midnights break their sleep by SummerFrost

The first Snapchat that anyone ever sends Geralt is a picture of his own irritated face.

shrike_princess: can u believe this dumbass finally got a snapchat bc a cute boy asked him nicely

"It wasn't even that nicely," Geralt says flatly.

AKA: The one where Geralt is a bartender and Jaskier sings karaoke.

(This is one of my favorite stories in the fandom.  I love it so much!!)

Give Me Nothing, Give Me You by dis

Ciri's kindergarten letter comes in the mail on a Tuesday. Geralt opens it, skims it, and frowns at the class his daughter has been assigned.

Dandelions.

Or: A modern AU with Dad!Geralt and Teacher!Jaskier.

Chopsticks by thisgirlsays22

“Yennefer sent me a check for eight lessons for you,” Jaskier said the following weekend, wearing a beige button-down with--

“Does your shirt have owls on it?” Geralt asked, caught somewhere between amusement and horror.

Jaskier looked down and tugged on the front of his shirt as if he had to remind himself what was on it. He beamed at Geralt. “Yeah! Do you like it?”

“Not particularly.”

The smile swiftly disappeared.

“It’s not terrible,” he amended, stepping back to let Jaskier inside the apartment. Then Jaskier’s initial words sank in. “Wait. Yen did what?”

Hanging up on Yennefer was always a mistake.

New Monster Stories by kathkin

“So do you have a name?”

“Yeah.” The man who had saved his life less than an hour ago – the white-haired, absurdly buff, weirdly sexy man Jaskier might have called taciturn if he was feeling charitable and surly if he was feeling less so – dug into his second burger.

Jaskier waited. “Are… you going to tell me what it is?”

The man paused mid-bite, and looked at him reproachfully as if to say how dare you. How dare you interrupt me. Can’t you see I’m enjoying my cheeseburger. Can’t you see this cheeseburger is the most important thing in my life right at the moment. He swallowed, and said, “Geralt.”

It turns out almost getting eaten by a werewolf can make your whole life go careening off in a new, terrifying, wondrous, artistically flourishing direction. Who knew?

Where There’s a Witcher by ghostinthelibrary

Jaskier is a twentysomething recently unemployed journalist and amateur musician looking for his big break. So when he’s saved from the jaws of a wyvern by the infamous Butcher of Blaviken, Geralt of Rivia, he comes up with a brilliant idea: he’ll follow the Witcher around and sing about their exploits. He’ll gain fame and fortune and Geralt will get a much needed image rehab. Everyone wins. Unless Jaskier goes and falls in love like an idiot.

Only Human Series by ghostintxelibrary

It’s a Tuesday, so someone is threatening to kill Jaskier.

Geralt doesn’t know why he’s surprised anymore.

Geralt moonlights as a superpowered vigilante called the Witcher, but his cover identity is the mild-mannered Geralt Rivia, reporter at The Continental Press. Jaskier is an entertainment writer at the Press and Geralt’s ex-boyfriend. He's obsessed with the Witcher, the vigilante who has saved his life multiple times. When Geralt is blackmailed by a powerful sorcerer into pursuing the Shrike, a serial killer who’s been targeting abusive men, Jaskier gets involved, despite Geralt’s best efforts.

(Seriously, all of her stuff is amazing.  Read it all.)

Thieves and Riches

Geralt is just trying to do a favor for an old friend when he finds himself tied up and shoved into a storage closet by a group of robbers. There he meets Jaskier, an enigmatic cat burglar who is a little too good at teasing a reaction of the normally stoic detective.

I’ll Never Be Free From Your Smile by whisperedstory

Geralt isn't sure how he got here, standing in his kitchen in black gym shorts and a baby pink—baby fucking pink—shirt that stretches too tightly over his muscles and has Toss a Coin written in sparkling gold letters across his chest while Jaskier is aiming a camera at his face.

Or: Jaskier is a YouTuber and Geralt is his best friend and roommate.

Next to You by Bean_Writes

Moving to a new town is one thing. Moving to a new town, becoming best friends with his neighbor and falling head over heels for her dad is something entirely different.

In his second year of college, Jaskier struggles with his undying crush on Geralt, Ciri's dad. It also doesn't help that the man's job involves him looking like an absolute wet dream come true, emerging from beneath a car, muscles flexing, slick with sweat and grease.

He's really fucked.

The Tale of Jaskier's Grudge Against Historians (and how they gave him his happy ending anyway) by notebooksandlaptops

[Text Sent From Ciri] Is there a reason why a love letter to Yen and Geralt is in the British Museum signed from you?? -C

[Text Sent to Ciri] Because Historians are nosey pricks. Do NOT tell your parents. -J

[Text Sent From Ciri] ;) – C

The winking face of a semicolon and a bracket stared up at him, composed of unforgiving pixels. She wouldn’t, would she? No. No. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t.

She wouldn’t.

-///-

Or, an exploration of the reason (immortal) Jaskier hates historians (hint: it's because they keep stealing his shit and putting it on display)

#modern au #modern witcher #no powers au #geraskier #geraltxjaskier #dad geralt #bartender geralt #fic recs #fic list #fluff #mutual pining #urban fantasy #modern magic #slow burn #idiots in love #geralt/jaskier #found family #thief jaskier #cop geralt #superhero au #musician jaskier #teacher jaskier #mechanic geralt #pining #pining geralt #pining jaskier #misunderstandings #angst #angst with a happy ending #immortal jaskier

[untaintedtea]

tbh ignoring or even just downplaying Yennefer’s role in Ciri’s life is awful on so many levels, but one of them I often think about that isn’t brought up as much is the fact that Ciri chose to be called Cirilla of Vengerberg when she didn’t get to choose many things in her life, since she was literally hunted to be used for her elder blood. Ciri explicitly calls Yennefer her mother, and Yennefer calls Ciri her daughter. She picks that name because of their strong love and bond.

Their relationship always seems to be erased when people ship Geralt with someone else. Remember in TW3 when Yennefer calls Ciri “daughter” in Polish, but not English? which I guess was to make the other romance more palatable. Even if you hate Geralt/Yennefer, even if you hate Yennefer, it doesn’t stop her from being Ciri’s mother. Mother, not aunt, not a woman who disappears because you’d rather Geralt be romantically involved with someone else.

#yennefer of vengerberg #cirilla fiona elen riannon #ciri #the witcher #i am so tired lol #idec who ppl ship i just want ppl to stop ignoring yen/yen and ciri #i really saw some ~witcher fam~ post about ciri and and all men lmfao #ppl pretending yen isn't ciri's mom happened prior to netflix but it's way worse now #back then tr*ss was more involved but anyway #i'm confident in the show using mother/daughter but we will have to see

[jaskier-cult]

oh fucck oh god okay

okay this just hit me but hear me out

soulmate au where Geralt and Jaskier are soulmates

but the Djinn wish severs the soulmate ties between the two and instead ties together Geralt and Yennefer 

and the thing is, Geralt didn’t know he and Jaskier were soulmates - but Jaskier figured it out, because, you know, he’s the only one competent with emotions and didn’t have his head up his ass - and Jaskier just assumed Geralt knew, and was willing to take a platonic relationship with his soulmate because he really cared for Geralt, and there were many forms of love, and as long as he could love Geralt in any way, he truly was happy 

(like, no angst, he was genuinely happy to follow Geralt around the Continent; Jaskier doesn’t believe in forcing love, he wouldn’t pin and angst over something that was out of his control, because he had many years to live through thanks to his non human nature and he didn’t want to spend a century angsting) 

so, the tie between their souls is severed, and that’s why Jaskier was freaking out so much when the house collapsed, because he truly thought Geralt was dead, because his soul mark faded 

like, it was gone 

his skin was bare, as if he had never even had a soul mark 

he had heard of soul marks turning grey after the soulmate passed away, but he wouldn’t put it past the witcher to have a dramatic death and weird magic involved, which caused his mark to disappear 

but then he sees the witcher and witch fucking furiously in the collapsing remains of the house, and his heart just shatters, because it’s with painful clarity that he realizes what has happened. and he grasps at his wrist, where the mark of a wolf had once sat, and he just feels empty, like he is suddenly spiraling 

Jaskier realizes what Geralt has done with the Djinn wish 

and he no longer has a soulmate 

everyone, from peasant, to high royal, to the most brutish, evilest men on the Continent - everyone had a soulmate 

and Geralt took that from him 

#soulmate au #angst #geraskier #geraskier angst #geraskier soulmate au #jaskier #non human jaskier #geralt #the witcher #i really want to write this #or have someone else write it #please #someone write a fic