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shy-urban-hobbit · 11 months

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Modern au - Lambert receives a bit of unexpected help.

Lambert stared after Aiden as he downed his shot, trying not to make it too obvious that he was putting all of his concentration into not glaring a hole into the back of the guy he was flirting with, leaning in closely and smiling that disarming smile of his as the stranger leaned in and said something to make Aiden laugh. Lambert slammed the glass back down perhaps a little too harshly, he had no right to feel jealous. Sure, they'd made out a few times (and that one heavy petting session that probably would have gone further if Vesemir hadn't all but kicked the front door in to announce his return home), but that didn't mean that they were together or anything and nor had Aiden given any indication that he wanted that. Like Jaskier, Aiden was a born flirt - it was just his nature (and god help everybody else when those two were in the same room together). Lambert wasn't about to get possessive because he'd had Aiden's tongue down his throat. Still...did he mean anything at all to Aiden or was he just one of many?

It was during moments like this Lambert seriously considered that therapist Geralt kept going on about who'd done wonders for him and Ciri. Vesemir had been a pretty ok dad as far as keeping them alive was concerned but as far as talking through feelings and emotions went, the man had left them to figure shit out for themselves rather than 'nagging' them - probably not the best tactic when dealing with three traumatised care kids. As a result; Lambert was self aware enough to know that at some point, he'd started developing feelings for his friend that went beyond simple lust, but also that he would rather stick his foot in a bear trap than actually talk to Aiden about it.

Another shot appeared in front of him. He turned his head to see Aiden's adoptive brother Cedric giving him a strange look as he leaned against the bar next to him, picking at already chipped nail polish on his thumb with his forefinger as his other hand idly swirled his own glass of colourless liquid, "You look like you need it!" He yelled over the music.

Lambert nodded his thanks before returning his attention back to where he could just about see Aiden dancing in the middle of the dancefloor with the guy he'd been talking to earlier standing (in Lambert's opinion) uncomfortably close as he tried to shuffle along to the bass beat.

"His hair!" Cedric yelled in his ear, causing Lambert to startle a little. He hadn't been aware of the other moving closer.

"What!?" This close he could see that Cedric's eye makeup had migrated down his cheeks with sweat, leaving glittery black streaks. The other rolled his eyes and tilted his head in a 'follow me' gesture.

The outside air was frigid but welcome after the heat of the club as Cedric led them out of a side door and into an alley.

"Ok, look." Cedric sighed, voice slightly hoarse as he lit a cigarette before offering one to Lambert, who declined, "I like you, and I seriously can not stand the pining anymore! So I'm going to give you a clue. If Aiden tucks his hair behind his ear when he's talking to you, you're in."

Lambert raised an eyebrow at him. He liked Cedric well enough but he knew from past experience he could also be a bit of a dick, with his idea of a joke sometimes bordering on just plain bullying (they were a little too alike in that respect which is probably why they got on - one asshole recognising another).

Cedric must have seen this in his face because he curled his lip in response, "I wouldn't joke about shit like this. I've lived in the same house as him since he was six years old. He's as bad as you when it comes to actually talking things through, but I know all his tells. When he likes somebody - serious 'I want to go on brunch dates and go halves on a shitty apartment with you' like - he'll tuck his hair behind his ear when he's talking to them. You're welcome." He stomped out the last of the cigarette under his heavy boot before turning to go back inside, leaving Lambert stood with a stray cat and the sounds of drunks yelling for cabs.

"Hey!" Aiden practically jumped on him when he spotted him and dragged him to one of the booths, "I was starting to think you'd decided to leave, you said you were getting a drink and then I couldn't find you."

"Just stepped outside a minute. What happened with him?"

"Huh?" Aiden looked back towards the guy he'd been with earlier, "Oh, Mick? Nah, and nothing was going to. He just felt a little embarrassed being up there alone. His fiancé isn't big on dancing and their friends bailed earlier so..." Lambert looked over again to see that sure enough, the guy now had his arm wrapped around a tall blonde woman, both of them waving goodbye at Aiden as they walked past.

"Making friends everywhere you go."

"Because I actually talk to people." Aiden laughed, long fingers going through the motions of tucking his hair behind his left ear - despite the fact that none of it had come loose from its tie - as he leaned against Lambert, who automatically wrapped his arm around Aiden's shoulders and gave a brief squeeze as he felt tension he didn't even know he'd been holding lift from his shoulders. He hoped it wasn't just his imagination making it seem like Aiden pressed in closer as he remembered what Cedric had told him.

"Hey!" Aiden said, lips close to Lambert's ear, "You want to follow their lead and get out of here?"

Lambert grinned, sharp and dangerous, "Let's go."

Aiden weaved their fingers together as they made their way through the crowd, Cedric back at the bar and raising his glass in mock salute when he caught Lambert's eye, laughing when Lambert flipped him off in response. He definitely owed the other man a bottle of his favourite vodka.

"Let's go back to mine. Cedric will be out past dawn if he has his way."

Lambert was buying him a whole god damn crate.

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

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karolincki · 2 years

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Winter Wonder Chaos

Jaskier and Geralt go to Kaer Morhen for winter. Shenanigans and winter fun ensues.

Word count: 3.6k

Warnings: none, this is just pure fluff and silliness with cutagens and Witchers who have tails and ears

Read on Ao3

This is a fic for @yakowo as part of the Witcher Winter Exchange from @witcherficwriters . I hope you like it ❤️

---------------------------

Jaskier was bouncing on his feet. Next to him, Geralt was chuckling, while he waited for their luggage to arrive.

Jaskier poked his tongue out at Geralt. "Don't pretend you aren't just as excited as I am to see your family again."

"I am calm personified."

Jaskier snorted. Geralt might be able to fool everyone around them, but even when hidden by a glamour, Jaskier could see the telltale signs of Geralt's tail going haywire. He was just as excited to go back home as Jaskier was.

They were back at the Kaedweni airport to be picked up by Lambert. Jaskier and Geralt had both missed Kaer Morhen and its inhabitants, and as Jaskier was able to work from home, they had decided to come here for winter.

Jaskier had never seen proper winter, Lettenhoven and Oxenfurt both being too far south for snow to ever stick around. He was only slightly disappointed when he found out that it hadn't snowed yet in Kaedwen, but Geralt had promised that by the end of winter he wouldn't be able to stand to see snow. Jaskier highly doubted that. Snow was magical and beautiful.

Geralt's stomach growled and Jaskier snickered. "Poor darling, I'm sure Vesemir will have a lot of food prepared for us."

Geralt huffed and slumped down onto Jaskier, who struggled a little to carry both their weight.

"I surely will have perished until then," he whines. "I hope Vesemir made pierogi."

Jaskier grinned and pressed a kiss to Geralt's cheek. His boyfriend was adorable when pouty.

Finally, after what felt like hours, their luggage came and they rushed out to find Lambert.

They had barely made their way outside when Jaskier was nearly tackled to the ground.

"Aiden," he managed to wheeze out and said witcher purred up a storm as he rubbed himself all over Jaskier. Ahead of him, Jaskier could see Lambert and Geralt engaged in their ritual lets-see-who-can-squeeze-the-other-to-death-first-hug.

Jaskier's heart swelled with happiness. It was good to see they have been missed as much as they missed the other witchers.

Eventually, Aiden let go of him to greet Geralt and Jaskier got to experience the death hug himself. It was weird how happy this made him.

The landscape on their car ride was just as beautiful as last time. Winter in the south meant bare trees and everything looked grey and sad. Here everything was still green due to the evergreens. Jaskier sighed happily. It looked like a fairy tale.

Geralt next to him scooted into the middle seat, sniffing at Jaskier and whining softly.

"What is it?"

"You smell wrong." He was shooting daggers at Aiden who was cackling in the front seat. Seeing Jaskier's confused expression, he added "He scented you and now you smell like Aiden."

Ohhh, Jaskier thought, Geralt is just a jealous puppy again. Smirking, he pressed closer into Geralt.

"I guess you'll just have to mark your territory again."

Hunger flashed across Geralt's eyes, but before he could say something Lambert interrupted.

"Oi! If you two try to get it on in the back, I will throw you out! Don't you dare desecrate my car like that."

Geralt just huffed. "Fuck off, Lambert."

"Fuck you!"

"Maybe if you don't want me to desecrate your car, you should keep your husband in check."

Lambert spluttered and from there on the two brothers fought the entire way back, spurred on by pointed comments from both Jaskier and Aiden.

When they finally made it to Kaer Morhen, Eskel was already waiting for them outside. He wasn't wearing his medallion, so Jaskier could see his tail wagging freely. If it were to go any faster Eskel would surely take off into the air.

As Lambert carried their luggage and Aiden back inside, Jaskier and Geralt got greeted by Eskel. Eskel squeezed Geralt just as hard as Lambert had, but luckily he had a little more sensibility than his youngest brother and subjected Jaskier to a human-safe hug.

"How was your journey?"

"Good, Geralt was so hungry, I had to keep him from fishing a half-eaten sandwich out of the trash can at the airport."

Eskel laughed and Geralt grumbled. He sniffed the air and as his eyes lit up he bolted inside.

Jaskier looked fondly after Geralt. "I had half a mind to just let him. Have you seen the prices? It's ridiculous!"

They went after Geralt and Jaskier quickly found out why his boyfriend had been in such a hurry. The entire house smelled like pierogi.

In the kitchen, Vesemir was fending off Geralt with a wooden spoon.

"Dinner is ready in 10 minutes, you will wait until then and not eat half of them already!"

It seemed that Geralt had taken off his medallion too, because Jaskier could see Geralt's ears twitching, clearly contemplating how to best get around Vesemir to steal some of the pierogi.

Taking mercy on Vesemir so that he could finish cooking, Jaskier pulled Geralt out of the kitchen.

"Come on you big oaf, help me set the table, then you will get to eat faster."

Vesemir nodded at Jaskier in thanks as he did his best to manhandle an uncooperative Geralt to the living room. He sighed. Geralt and hunger were a horrible combination.

Dinner was absolute chaos.

The witchers all behaved like over-excited puppies, talking over each other, demanding each other's attention, and not being able to sit still. Even Vesemir got a little swept up in the general ruckus, smiling broadly and egging his sons on. It was obvious how happy they all were to finally be reunited again.

After dinner, Vesemir send them all out to get their energy out, while he and Jaskier cleaned up a bit.

"I hope my boys weren't too much for you."

Jaskier looked up from where he was washing plates.

"Not at all. Geralt has relaxed around me so much, but coming back here is always something else. I love seeing him completely let go."

Vesemir hummed.

"I'm glad he found you. I never thought a human could accept us all so willingly and freely."

Jaskier blushed. Getting Vesemir's approval so freely meant a lot to him.

"Tell me if they should ever get too much, though. I know hiding places in this house not even my boys know of."

The warmth in Vesemir's voice made Jaskier blush even deeper.

"I will. Thank you for welcoming me into your home."

Vesemir smiled back and went to put the dry dishes back into the cupboards.

When they got back into the living room, Jaskier cooed at the sight.

The Witchers had finally run themselves exhausted and were lying now in a big cuddle pile in front of the chimney. Soft snores could be heard and Jaskier melted at how their ears were twitching in sleep. He was curious what they could be dreaming about.

Jaskier looked over at Vesemir.

"Will you join them?"

"Ah, my old bones won't last a night on the stone floor. Will you?"

"No," said Jaskier laughing. "I did once and I nearly suffocated when they all ended up lying on me. Also, Lambert is a horrible kicker, I don't know how Aiden can live with that."

Vesemir chuckled lowly. "He always used to do that since he was a small pup."

Together they moved upstairs. Jaskier flustered a bit as Vesemir pulled him in for a fatherly hug. His family was nice, but none of them would ever have been this physically affectionate. He had to suppress a grin as Vesemir tried to subtly sniff him, making sure he really was okay.

Jaskier quickly got ready for bed. Moonlight was streaming through a crack in the curtains.

Happily he snuggled into Geralt's huge bed. He could live one night without Geralt. They still would have weeks here together.

He couldn't wait to see what was to come.

————

Four days into their stay a scream woke everyone up. Not Jaskier, though.

He was the origin of the scream.

"Geralt, wake up!!"

Jaskier jumped onto the bed where a sleepy Geralt was trying to hide beneath the blankets.

"Get uuuuup! It snowed!"

Why was Geralt not sharing his excitement? Before he could complain more, an arm shot out from the pile of blankets and dragged him under. Shrieking and laughing he wrestled with Geralt until he could free himself. Quickly he jumped over to the window.

As far as Jaskier could see, everything was covered under a thick blanket of snow. It didn't look like the same place anymore. The snow hid the shapes and forms of the landscape, transforming it into a plane of glittering snow in the morning sun. Brightly grinning, he turned around.

Geralt was sitting up in bed, horrible bed hair, and the blankets pooling around him as he scratched lazily at his naked cheat. His expression was still bleary and full of sleep and usually this would be enough for Jaskier to press Geralt back into bed and lovingly rail him, but today he had more important things to do.

Jaskier didn't even bother putting on thicker clothes or socks before rushing outside.

Which was a mistake.

He took three steps outside before running back in. Jaskier knew snow was cold, but that cold…rather rude of the snow.

Quickly he grabbed his shoes and back out he went.

It was magical. The snow was crunching under his boots but it was still so fluffy to the touch. He gathered enough to make a snowball. It wasn't as round as he wished it to be, but it flew beautifully into the distance anyways.

He turned around at the sound of crunching footsteps. Geralt was walking over, a coat slung over his arm and a besotted smile on his face.

"Did the snow make you forget common sense?" he chided gently.

Only now did Jaskier realise just how cold he has gotten in those few minutes outside and he thankfully let Geralt help him get the jacket on.

"Sorry love, I just got too excited."

"Hmmm, I do know that a happy you tends to lose all his brain cells."

Geralt sneaked his arm around Jaskier and gave his ass a playful squeeze. Jaskier gasped in affront, but Geralt kissed him quickly before he could say anything.

"Let's eat breakfast and then we will all go outside?"

Jaskier pouted, but he let himself be pulled back inside.

The others already sat around the table, munching sleepily on their breakfast. Lambert glared at him.

"You couldn't have been any louder this morning?"

"Sorry," said Jaskier sheepishly.

Lambert grumbled some more but let Aiden soothe him which consisted of the Cat simply depositing himself in Lambert's lap and purring until Lambert stopped scowling so hard. It was adorable.

As promised, they all went out after breakfast. Vesemir had some carrots so they began with building snowmen, which quickly ended in a competition of who could build the biggest and most snowmen.

Later everyone will claim it wasn't them, but when the first snowman got knocked over all hell broke loose. It's everyone for themselves and even Vesemir got dragged into the fight.

Jaskier hid behind a snowman. There was a momentary lull as everyone had spread out to hide and restock their ammunition. Carefully, he peaked around.

There, just below the roof of the stables, was a tail swishing from behind a snowman. Jaskier knew that when the witchers were fighting they could hold perfectly still, but in a play fight like this, their tails tended to betray the fun they were having. And this time also Lambert's position.

Jaskier grinned to himself. Geralt had warned him to not spend time below the roof as the snow on top easily got loose and could bury you. He would use that now to his advantage.

Carefully, he aimed one of his bigger snowballs at the rooftop.

The snowball flew and landed perfectly with a thunk. Something cracked and before Jaskier knew it, the entire snow on the roof came rushing down.

"What the — AAARGGHH!!"

Jaskier howled with laughter as Lambert got buried under the snow, muffled curses coming from beneath it. But he wasn't the only one.

He could hear Aiden laughing, in fact, he laughed so hard that he fell out of his hiding spot in the roof beams.

Jaskier's side was hurting with how hard he was laughing. Lambert slowly clawed his way out of the snow pile and immediately zeroed in on Jaskier. His eyes were speaking murder.

"Oh fuck."

Jaskier suddenly had much more sympathy prey of wolves. Lambert took one step forward and Jaskier booked it.

Geralt just laughed at him as he was chased around by Lambert who was carrying the stomach of a snowman to throw.

————

One of Jaskier's favourite winter activities was just lying on a sofa in front of the chimney with a mug of mulled wine while reading a book.

The wolf witchers were more adventurous. They didn't deal well with being cooped up inside all day and went regularly on long hikes into the mountains. Aiden usually didn't join them. Unlike Jaskier, he was definitely fit enough, but as it turned out, the cat wasn't too happy about the cold and also preferred to stay back and lounge in front of the fire.

Jaskier loved those afternoons. Aiden didn't mind a little conversation, but for the most part he also liked to just relax together in silence.

One afternoon Jaskier decided that he had read enough and maybe he could take a nap. He put his book away and yawned.

Aiden looked up.

"Are you taking a nap?"

Jaskier just nodded in affirmation.

Aiden immediately jumped up from the floor and walked over to the couch. He plopped down beside Jaskier's legs.

"Gonna join me?" Jaskier asked, a yawn interrupting further questions.

Aiden didn't answer. He scooted a little closer and began purring as he pressed first his left and then his right hand into the soft part of Jaskier's legs over and over again.

Jaskier smiled softly. He loved Geralt and he loved his more wolfish instincts, but there was something about those cat mutations that Jaskier found extra adorable.

Baking cookies, Jaskier thought. He smiled as he drifted off to sleep.

He woke up several hours later to Aiden nosing at his neck who by now was cuddling him and the sounds of the wolf witchers returning home. Geralt was the first who entered the living room.

"Hello love, did you have a good trip?"

Geralt hummed and sat down on the ground next to the sofa.

"It was fun, saw some rare species. Vesemir thinks they might be repopulating, so that's exciting."

He leaned forward, sniffed at Jaskier, and growled. It wasn't a playful growl, his ears alert and his lips curling, revealing a row of very sharp teeth.

Aiden immediately jumped away, but he was laughing menacingly as he rushed out of the room.

Jaskier looked confused at Geralt. "What was that about?"

He tried to smooth out Geralt's scowling, but he only scowled harder.

"Aiden marked you. He knows it annoys me when you don't smell like me anymore."

Jaskier had noticed before that Geralt loved it when Jaskier took his clothing and looked unhappy when Aiden was rubbing himself too much on Jaskier. That would explain it.

"Bad kitten. Should I tell him off?"

"Do you like his affection?"

Jaskier cupped Geralt's face in his hands who immediately pressed kisses to his palms.

"I do, but I don't like you being unhappy."

"But I don't want to drive a wedge between you two."

Jaskier leaned forward, kissing Geralt softly. Geralt sighed into the kiss, demanding a few more before he would let Jaskier move away again. Jaskier couldn't help but giggle.

"My sappy wolf. Then how about we get a little revenge on them?"

Geralt grinned mischievously.

"I love the way you think. What's the plan?"

"Well, I'm gonna assume that Lambert and Aiden equally like it for their things to smell of them?"

"Yeah, it just feels right."

"Then how about we fuck in their bed, make it smell of us?"

Geralt pulled away, his eyes blown wide in surprise.

"That's mean…they will hate that. Lambert will explode when he finds out."

"Oh, well, if it is too much…"

Geralt laughed. "No, it's fucking perfect. Lambert wanted to take Aiden into town tomorrow." He leaned a little closer to whisper into Jaskier's ears. "I will fuck you until you can't come anymore and then I'll fuck you some more."

Jaskier moaned, his entire body immediately burning with arousal.

"Fuck, yes pleased, Geralt." He sat up and moved into Geralt's lap. "I also think we should practice for that right now."

Geralt growled and caught his lips in a kiss again. It was the complete opposite of their earlier kisses, hungry and with too much teeth, but Jaskier couldn't care anymore. It has been a while since they last had sex.

Jaskier yelped when Geralt suddenly stood up and carried him up to their room without any effort. Another wave of arousal hit him at that casual display of strength.

On their way, they passed Aiden. Jaskier winked at him. The consequences be damned, if this kind of revenge gets Geralt going this much, then he will happily do it again.

————

They all spend most of their time at Kaer Morhen, but from time to time Vesemir sent them out for errands. Today it was Jaskier, Lambert, and Eskel's turn to go into town.

As they'd be among people, the witchers put on their medallions again to hide their more animalistic traits, but Jaskier missed seeing their true forms. He had gotten used to them so much.

But even when their outward mutations might be gone, their inner ones did not.

Eskel was the one who liked to pretend the most that there was nothing unusual about them. When in public he always pretended to just be a regular human.

Lambert did not care for that. He sniffed around constantly, following smells and noises. Eskel had to reign him back in more than once when he tried to walk off to find the source of an especially delicious smell.

They were on their way back to the car when Lambert began to throw snowballs at Eskel.

"Cut it out, Lambs."

"Why, you need to loosen up a bit!"

Eskel just threw Lambert an exasperated look while Lambert continued to throw snow at him. Jaskier snickered on the side. Brotherly love could be a lot. Eskel growled lowly at Lambert when he tried to throw the next one. Lambert stopped for a second and then changed tactics. Now he was trying out just how close he could throw the snowballs next to Eskel's head. Eskel rolled his eyes but didn't say anything anymore.

When they got back to the car, Lambert threw one especially close. Before either of them knew what happened, Eskel had caught the snowball.

With his mouth.

He stopped, startled about what just had happened.

Jaskier and Lambert were turning red in their faces trying to suppress their laughter. The confused expression on Eskel was just too funny.

Jaskier lost his fight against his laughter, when Eskel growled, spit out the snow in his mouth, and tackled Lambert to the ground.

He was in stitches as he watched Lambert getting his ass beaten. Eskel had him in a headlock and was stuffing snow down Lambert's jacket.

"Asshole! Get off me! Nooooo, it's cold."

"Beg me for it, Lambchop," Eskel said now laughing while continuing to press snow to Lambert's face.

"Fuck you!"

Jaskier watched them for a few more minutes and packed the car as Lambert couldn't break out of Eskel's hold on the slippery ground.

Eventually, he gave up the fight. He was trying to nose at Eskel's neck and lick it in a show of submission.

"Are you sorry?" Eskel said, not sounding angry anymore.

"Yes, I'm sorry. Please let me go," Lambert whined, pouting at Eskel.

Eskel chuckled and licked a long line across Lambert's face, who bristled but submitted to the treatment.

They helped each other off of the ground and with a still giggling Jaskier in tow they drove back home.

————

Jaskier loved winter here in Kaedwen. The snow was beautiful, the landscape magical and he had been able to try out so many winter activities like skiing and sledging that he never got to do before, it was just a joy all around.

Every time he thought the snow was gonna melt away there came a new snowstorm, trapping them all inside and laying down a new layer of snow.

They spend their days in front of the chimney, drinking warm beverages, telling stories, and playing games, and Jaskier honestly never felt more at home.

He did start missing Oxenfurt though. And spring. And seeing other colors besides white.

Jaskier would never admit to it though.

With the weeks passing it was getting warmer and warmer. Jaskier knew that by now in Oxenfurt the first spring flowers had sprouted because Priss had sent him so many pictures that he'd gotten rather jealous.

One morning Jaskier woke up, Geralt already getting dressed and looking out the window.

"Did the snow finally melt?"

A shadow flickered over Gerald's face, but Jaskier couldn't decipher in time what it meant.

"No, it actually snowed last night."

"What?!" That couldn't be, it was supposed to be warmer by now! Quickly Jaskier jumped out of the bed and rushed to the window.

"You ass!" he shouted. It had, in fact, not snowed anymore. Most of the snow had melted away and nature was waking up out of its winter sleep. There were patches of early spring flowers all over the fields and Jaskier jumped excitedly up and down.

"Did you get sick of the snow after all?" Geralt teased. He stepped closer and wrapped his arms around Jaskier, nuzzling into his neck.

Jaskier huffed. "I'm not admitting to anything. It's just nice to see something else for a change."

Behind him, Geralt chuckled.

"So next winter we will come again?"

"You bet we will.

#the witcher #geraskier #cutagens #geralt of rivia #jaskier #lambert #aiden #lambert x aiden #eskel #vesemir #fluff #humor #karo writes

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julek · 2 years

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read on ao3

When Geralt sees the body on the table, he shakes his head with something akin to fondness.

“We need to stop meeting like this,” he tells Jaskier, whose eyes haven’t opened yet, whose skin still shines pale and unblemished. “One day I’ll really dissect you.”

“Mm,” Jaskier grunts, displeased.

Geralt takes his apron off, given his services won’t be needed with this particular costumer, and leans back against the sink of the mortuary to wait. It usually takes Jaskier a few minutes to regain movement of his limbs, a few more minutes to get his words back.

“What was it this time?” Geralt asks conversationally, mostly because he knows Jaskier won’t answer him. “Jealous husband poisoned your meal? Didn’t look where you were going and shared a kiss with the local transport vehicle?”

“Hng.”

Geralt nods, reaching for the cabinet door. “I know it’s cold. I’m sorry. You know how it is.”

He lays a blanket over Jaskier’s still-rigid legs, and checks his pulse. Faint, but there.

“Just a few more minutes,” he says, watching blood slowly color Jaskier’s cheeks, flowing down the purple-blue veins under his eyes. His arms are twitching. “You want coffee or tea? I got croissants from the bakery you like.”

“‘ea,” Jaskier manages.

“Okay,” Geralt says. “We can breakfast upstairs. I know you don’t like the smell in here.”

Geralt does, though. There’s something about the smell of formaldehyde and antiseptic that soothes his mind. He’s surprised, really, that, for someone who’s visited his mortuary so many times, Jaskier still hasn’t gotten used to it.

Some things aren’t for him to know.

“Ah,” Geralt murmurs, Jaskier’s blue eyes blinking hazily at him. “Welcome back.”

Jaskier glowers at him. It looks more cute than menacing.

Geralt pushes Jaskier’s hair back, presses a kiss to his forehead. Ice cold, as usual.

“When I said I couldn’t do date night because work was busy,” he whispers, “I didn’t mean for you to literally show up at work.”

Jaskier raises his eyebrows, as if to say well, and immediately grimaces. Expressive facial gestures right after waking up mess up with the slow progress his body makes, and now he’ll be stuck with an inquisitive expression for a few hours.

Geralt definitely doesn’t laugh at him.

(He does). (A little). (He also makes some horrible puns). (Jaskier will make him pay, later).

Jaskier’s hand intertwines with his own. A weak embrace, but Geralt can feel the warmth of his touch in his soul.

“Roach missed you,” he tells him, linking their fingers together. “She’ll be delighted to see you.”

Jaskier’s head turns slightly.

“Well, maybe not delighted. Amused, at least.”

“Mm.”

Finally, Jaskier’s legs regain blood flow, and he shakes them out a little. Geralt helps him sit up on the table.

“How are you feeling?”

Jaskier nods. He looks tired, as he often does after waking up, but everything else seems normal.

“Okay,” Geralt says. He presses his forehead against Jaskier’s. “Still like your tea with four sugars, then?”

See the full post

1,000 notes - Posted May 28, 2022

“Jas,” Geralt calls, not taking his eyes off his journal.

Jaskier stops strumming his lute with a palm on the strings. “Yes?”

“Would you pass me an orange from our pack?”

He hears Jaskier murmur an assent, and goes back to the ardent task of drawing a cockatrice that resembles the one he’d fought the week prior. There’s a rustling sound as Jaskier rifles through their things, a triumphant little ah-ha! as Jaskier, presumably, finds the orange, but then, there’s silence.

Geralt sketches the final lines of the cockatrice to his satisfaction, and takes a look behind him to see what could be taking Jaskier so long in the simple delivery of the fruit.

He finds Jaskier poking his tongue out of the corner of his mouth, brow furrowed in concentration as he picks at the orange between prying fingers.

“What are you doing?” Geralt asks, coming to crouch beside him.

“Oh!” Jaskier says, his eyes snapping up, as if he’d forgotten Geralt was there at all. “I was just getting all the white stuff out for you,” he says, and presents his palms to Geralt.

It’s a small orange, halved, bright and plump in Jaskier’s hands, and all the white tendrils have been carefully removed.

For him.

The orange almost flies into the other direction when Geralt surges to kiss him.

“Oh,” Jaskier says when they break apart, flustered and a little dazed. “What brought that on?”

Geralt smiles, taking one half of the orange into his hands.

“You.”

1,046 notes - Posted July 9, 2022

“Yen,” Geralt says through gritted teeth. “It’s not wearing off.”

She peers at him across the table. “What isn’t?”

He growls. The potion, he wants to say, the stupid potion that had been innocently placed among his own elixirs, wearing a nondescript label and looking innocuous enough. The potion that is making his every thought escape through his tongue and jump out of his mouth, into the world of the living.

That potion.

“Mm,” she nods. “It’ll go away soon enough. The urge.”

They both follow Jaskier’s moving figure with their eyes, the bard prancing around the tavern floorboards with practiced ease and a salacious grin on his pink-bitten lips. They watch as he belts out a high note, sweat clinging to his skin, pooling in the hollow of his throat, uncovered now that he’s shed his doublet on the back of a chair.

Geralt tries very hard not to imagine what it would feel like to put his mouth there, because it’s a stupid thing to think, and because the filter that usually keeps stupid thoughts at the back of his mind where they belong is broken, and it would be very unwise to let such imaginings out in the wild.

But—

“Seems our bard has found himself some company,” Yennefer says, a smug smirk on her lips, as she waves in his general direction. “Such a handsome fellow, too.”

And, because he’s weak, Geralt tears his gaze from a knot on the wooden table and finds that Jaskier’s singing has stopped, and he’s now animatedly chatting with a patron. A broad-shouldered, heavy-handed man, with charming brown eyes and curls that bounce on his head every time he laughs that musical laughter at something Jaskier’s said, and a well-trimmed beard that frames his face ever so nicely. A man whose hand is resting on Jaskier’s forearm, his thumb rubbing distracted circles on it as Jaskier draws closer and closer.

Geralt’s tankard creaks ominously in his hand.

Yen has the gall to look amused. “Anything on your mind, dear?”

Geralt tries to ignore the way his mind is screaming at him, but it doesn’t work, of course, because that godsdamned serum is still coursing through his veins, still making him— “I want to draw my sword and place it on that man’s neck and watch him sweat, and when I’ve made sure he’s gone I want to take Jaskier back here and have him sit on my lap and show everyone who he belongs to.”

It all comes out in one breath, so fast that he doesn’t have time to feel ashamed, and he feels as though he’s never talked so much in his life. He probably hasn’t.

“Interesting,” says Yen, watching Jaskier saunter back to their table. “Very interesting.”

1,213 notes - Posted March 26, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Jaskier turns in his bedroll again.

“—fucking winter and its wintery fucking— cold as balls, ice frozen—”

“Jask?”

“—good for nothing— oh.” His tossing stops. The ground is so fucking cold. “Sorry, did I wake you?”

One golden eye peers at him. He would say Geralt looked annoyed, but he can’t see most of his face, tucked as it is under his cloak, so he chooses to interpret it as friendly concern. “Your muttering did.”

Jaskier smiles sheepishly at him, even though Geralt probably can’t see him either, with his scarf tied around his neck and covering most of his face. “Sorry. Just...”

“Can’t sleep?”

Jaskier shakes his head. It’s their fifth year on the Path together, the first one Geralt’s invited him along to spend the winter at Kaer Morhen with him — and Jaskier’s excited, really, but sleeping on the forest floor with a thin bedroll and definitely not enough blankets kind of dampens his spirits a little.

They’ve laid their bedrolls side by side, the fire keeping their feet warm, but still Jaskier can’t fend off the chill that’s seeped into his bones. He would blame it on his frilly, beautifully impractical clothing, with its soft but thin fabrics, with its stunning trim but no insulation, but if he did, he’d basically be agreeing with Geralt, and he can’t have that. Not even in the privacy of his own mind.

(He still hasn’t ruled out the possibility that Witchers are mind-readers). (Geralt is awfully quiet whenever Jaskier brings it up, and, well, one can never be too careful).

So he’s been tossing and turning and singing lullabies to himself in a feeble attempt of finally succumbing to a warm, deep sleep. Not that it’s worked, anyway.

The single golden eye looks considering, now.

“Wha—?” Jaskier manages before Geralt stands up, the bare skin under his sleep shirt immediately reacting to the cold air of the forest and erupting in gooseflesh.

Then, a blanket is being tossed to his face.

(It smells like horse).

“There,” says Geralt, not unkindly, his voice a bit rough. “That’ll help.”

“Well,” Jaskier replies, trying to adjust the blanket without taking his hands out of his bedroll, which proves impossible. “Thanks.”

Before he can sit up straight and, like a sane person, rearrange the blanket on top of himself, Geralt’s doing it for him. His hair is a mess from where he’s been laying on it and he’s squinting, but his hands are warm as they reach for the ends of the blanket and he tucks them into Jaskier’s bedroll, making sure his body is covered.

“You’re tucking me in,” Jaskier whispers, something that suspiciously feels like love standing on his heart a little.

Geralt smiles. He smiles his soft smile, the one where his lips stretch over his face and they’re pink and pretty and there’s a shine in his eyes.

“I guess I am,” he replies, checking no corners have been missed. “We’ll reach the mountain soon. No more cold nights after that.”

Jaskier smiles. He doesn’t know what it might look like on his face, lips chapped and slightly cracked. He hopes it shows his gratitude for him.

Geralt sits back on his haunches. The smile is still there. Fonder, somehow.

“What, no kiss goodnight?” Jaskier murmurs, because he’s an idiot, because he can’t help himself.

“Mm,” Geralt says, and for a second, Jaskier thinks he’s getting up to leave, but then Geralt leans forward and there’s a gentle, sweet kiss being pressed to his forehead. His smile is bigger when he turns away. “There. Goodnight.”

Jaskier can feel the warmth on his skin, the skin Geralt pressed a kiss to. He can feel it seeping into his bones.

When he turns around, blanket firmly secured, Geralt is watching him from his own bedroll.

“Goodnight,” he mouths at him, and Geralt closes his eyes.

His cloak is covering half his face again, but Jaskier can see the smile he’s hiding anyway.

1,612 notes - Posted May 4, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #I reblogged the most from myself kawusbddjdbdjehddbbd #long post

31 notes · View notes

major-trouble · 2 years

Text

I posted 5,420 times in 2022

105 posts created (2%)

5,315 posts reblogged (98%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@jayofolympus

@tales-of-the-short-tailed

@dibellanyx

@stinastar

@ruffboijuliaburnsides

I tagged 1,533 of my posts in 2022

#laugh rule - 222 posts

#the witcher - 103 posts

#about me - 66 posts

#jaskier - 45 posts

#art - 42 posts

#fic rec - 36 posts

#fuckin art man - 30 posts

#geralt - 28 posts

#amazing - 25 posts

#same - 23 posts

Longest Tag: 131 characters

#but it is the absolute best carrot you have ever eaten in your entire life and can instantly bring you back from the brink of death

My Top Posts in 2022:

you said it. now do ittttt

Title: Only one top catboy!

Oh. Oh no. I hope this fulfills your wishes.

Only One Top Catboy!

The apron strings were digging into his waist. The skirt barely covered the tops of his thighs, but he’d insisted on wearing opaque leggings underneath so at least he wasn’t flashing anyone everytime he bent over.

He smirked. Not that anyone in the cafe would mind.

The owner had presented him with a pair of ridiculous, huge, fuzzy cat ears at the beginning of his shift. He’d baulked at first, but the softness of the fur brushing against the top of his bald head actually felt nice. Not that he’d tell anyone.

“Letho! Are you paying attention?” Aiden asked, setting the rest of the cups of tea and sandwiches on his tray and frowning up at him.

Letho considered for a moment before shaking his head. “Not really. You were complaining about your boyfriend’s girlfriend again and I tuned it out.”

He picked up the tray and headed back out into the cafe proper before the other man had a chance to formulate a reply. Carefully he maneuvered his way around the tables, smiling politely back at the regulars when they smiled at him. He placed the tray down on one of the round tables decked out in dark red fabric embroidered with tiny gold cats and let his face relax into a proper smile.

"Good afternoon Miss Priscilla, Miss Essi," he rumbled, setting the delicate teacups out in front of the two women. "I trust your day has been good so far?"

On his left, Priscilla laughed lightly. "It's warm and sunny, and we're finally done with uni for another year."

Essi grinned up at him. "Now that we're here it's even better."

It had been weird and not a little unnerving to have so much attention focused on him, but after six months he'd slowly gotten used to it. Now instead of being apprehensive everytime he walked in the front doors, he looked forward to it.

"I'm glad to hear it," he answered, stepping back slightly after removing the rest of the tea service and sandwiches and picking up his tray. "Is there anything else I can do to make your time at Coen's Cat Cafe more pleasant?"

Both women smiled at him, full unabashed smiles with not a hint of guile or fear.

"No no!" Essi replied. "Thank-you, Letho. You're such a gentleman."

Letho smiled back before turning and threading back between the tables, maybe wiggling his hips a little to make the tail attached to his waist twitch back and forth.

So of course he was a little jealous when Coen hired a new guy. Maybe. Just a little.

Gaetan was lithe where Letho was bulky, sleek where he was rippling, cunning where he was implacable.

Letho hated him.

"Why do you keep staring at him like you want to eat him, then?" Aiden drawled, pouring them both cups of tea after they'd finished cleaning up for the evening. It was a proprietary blend of black teas that Coen had gotten made especially for the cafe. Letho liked it because it tasted like a warm Autumn evening. Aiden liked it because the caffeine content was on par with an espresso.

"What? No I don't," he protested. Wrapping one massive hand around the steaming chipped mug, he inhaled the comforting aroma as his brows furrowed downwards, pulling at the scar between them. "He's a nuisance. He flirts too much. Talks too loud. It's like he's hiding something."

"Are you sure you don't want to eat him?" Aiden pressed. He raised one eyebrow in challenge before taking a sip of his too hot tea.

"Never even crossed my mind."

They were silent for several long minutes, each staring into their own mug before Aiden sighed.

"Are you worried he's going to take away your title of top cat boy?" he asked slyly.

Letho choked on his tea.

19 notes - Posted September 7, 2022

Titles!

Who’s Turn is it to Call OSHA?

Okay, I turned this one a little to the side. I hope you like it 💚

OSHA is a Place

Vesemir leaned back against the wall of the gym, watching his youngest son wrestle unsuccessfully with the new equipment. He took a long sip from his coffee mug and checked his watch. Nearly 6.30. Still another half an hour before their regulars started to wander in.

Cursing loud and foul enough to blister paint made him wince. It wasn't as if he hadn't warned Lambert that everything needed to be set up before his shift started. It was his own damn fault that he’d waited until the last minute.

Vesemir was certain that as the new piece of gym equipment went together, there were possibly several screws missing and some pieces that didn’t seem entirely flush in their mounts. He was contemplating what to tell Lambert when Geralt came sauntering over from the direction of the locker room, taking a swig from his own insulated mug.

They watched Lambert for several minutes as he struggled.

"Is he -?" Geralt started, gesturing with his mug.

"Yup."

"Does he know - "

"Uh-huh."

"Well okay then."

They stood together silently, brows furrowed as they both decided what to do next. It was nearly 6.55 when Eskel came to lean on the wall beside them, crossing his arms over his chest and frowning.

Something fell off the top of the cross bar and landed with a load clank on the bare concrete floor.

"Who's turn is it to call OSHA?" Vesemir asked conversationally.

As if on cue, the chime on the front door sounded and they turned in unison to watch Valdo and his clipboard enter the gym.

21 notes - Posted September 12, 2022

Hello I would like to show you the best thing ever.

Mothskier commissioned from the incredibly talented @kindcryptid for my fantastic friend @tumbleweedtech and @continentcakeshop .

I love him so much. 🥰

27 notes - Posted July 8, 2022

It's tattoo day!!!

29 notes - Posted February 25, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

I would like to submit "a bird in the hand is worth a kick in the ass" as a title.

Thank you

And finally, the last title prompt!! I hope it was worth the wait 💚💚💚💚

A Bird in the Hand is Worth a Kick in the Ass

"What we have here is a situation."

"That - that's not even remotely correct."

"What would you call it then?"

"It's more akin to a disaster."

"I think you're exaggerating."

"A situation would be something easily solvable."

"You don't think this is easily solvable?"

Jaskier barely suppressed the urge to scream. "Valdo, my dearest friend." Valdo snorted. "Unless you can somehow miraculously get the king to dismiss the charges, release us from this dungeon, and give us all our clothes back, I can hardly see how this is easily solvable!"

To his credit, the other bard was quiet for nearly five seconds before speaking again.

"I. Have a plan."

"Oh my gods we're fucking doomed."

"You're such a pessimist." Valdo shifted from where he was sitting on the cold stone floor of the king's dungeon. Jaskier could barely make him out in the gloom, only the light from a couple of smoky, flickering torches set in the wall outside of their shared cell providing any light. He could hear the clank of heavy chains as Valdo moved, but he couldn't see what he was doing.

After a moment, Valdo made a triumphant little "Ah ha!" sound and a warm golden glow started emanating from the pendant still draped around his neck.

"What the fuck is that?" Jaskier blurted, leaning forward and squinting to get a better view. The chains binding him to the wall behind him prevented his moving closer to make out much more than the fuzzy outline of the small pendant. But it was definitely glowing, that much he could tell for sure.

Before Valdo had a chance to answer, there was a bright flash of light and a loud popping sound that made both of them flinch and Jaskier cry out in alarm.

Into the silence that followed, a familiar voice said, "What the fuck did you do to get yourselves thrown into a dungeon? And why are you both naked?"

"Lambert!" Valdo exclaimed cheerfully. "So good to see you! Don't suppose you could do anything about our current incarceration?" He turned to grin smugly at Jaskier. "I told you I had a plan."

The Witcher - who had definitely not been there a moment ago and was standing on the other side of the bars, outside of their shared cell - eyed them speculatively. Or so Jaskier surmised, he still couldn't see much.

Before Lambert could answer, another voice broke in.

"What the fuck is going on here?"

All three of them turned to look towards the far end of the dungeon. Where before they'd thought the other cells were empty, now they could see the enormous outline of another person - person? it looked more like a mountain made flesh than an actual human being, Jaskier mused - was leaning against the bars.

"Arnaghad? What the fuck are you doing here?" Lambert blurted, tromping across the bare stone floor to peer in at the other Witcher.

"Trying to get some sleep, what does it look like?" Arnaghad returned sarcastically. "Are you here to rescue these two idiots from their own incompetence?"

Despite both said idiots' sudden protests, Lambert laughed.

"Something like that, yeah. You want out, too? Can't see how it's comfortable down here for you either." There was a nervous edge to his voice, like he wasn't quite sure he wanted to free the hulking Witcher.

See the full post

41 notes - Posted September 13, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #HELL YES #@kind cryptid #Lookit that Mothskier #Also apparently everything is funny

2 notes · View notes

samstree · 3 years

Text

splash of the waves, and the sand castle crumbles (2)

(geraskier, prince!jaskier, fairytale elements, angst with a happy ending, insecurities, jaskier whump, chest pain, 4.8k)

Geralt discovers that being with a prince comes at a price. Jaskier deals with some bad news.

previous: [1], read on AO3

A big thanks to my amazing beta @wanderlust-t!! 💖💖

Geralt will always come second in Jaskier’s heart.

As he sinks into the soft mattress and gathers the prince into his arms, the realization becomes ever so clear.

His fingers find those faint freckles on Jaskier’s back, the ones he can already trace by heart without looking. The press of Jaskier’s body nuzzles into his. The clamminess from their earlier passion makes the closeness a little uncomfortable, but Geralt can’t seem to find the strength to pull away.

Instead, he moves closer to Jaskier to observe him carefully.

The prince has this look on his face that Geralt never liked, one that suggests he’s lost somewhere far away, so Geralt brushes a strand of stray hair away to guide those blue eyes back to the presence.

“What are you worrying about?”

“Huh?” The corners of Jaskier’s eyes crinkle when he snaps out of the trance. “Nothing, um—court happenings. Valdo has received news on the investigation in Cintra.”

“About the assassination?”

“Dead end, again.” Jaskier chews his lips. “No concrete proof that it was ordered by Calanthe, nothing except for some whispers you stumbled upon in a tavern. Valdo is looking elsewhere now.”

Geralt tilts his head in sympathy, hating the idea of the prince living with one more potential threat lurking in the dark. “How can I help?” he asks.

“You stopped them. I reckon that’s plenty.” Jaskier leans in, a teasing gleam in his eyes. “I won’t bore you with grim details, my dear. But perhaps…distract me? If you truly want to help.”

So Geralt presses his lips everywhere he can reach. One on the crown of Jaskier’s head, another at his hairline, and then on those already kiss-swollen lips, so enticing in the candlelight.

The prince responds eagerly, his deft fingers roaming across Geralt’s chest and provoking him with the softest touch, soothing and aggravating the ache deep within him. A surprised giggle escapes Jaskier’s lips as he catches Geralt’s hand trailing down under the cover.

“Really? Again?” the prince threads their fingers together and pulls Geralt’s hand away, subtly interrupting his not-so-subtle attempt. “The way you screamed my name earlier, my dear, I thought you would pass out from the sheer intensity of it. Witcher stamina or not, you can’t possibly still want more.”

“I don’t… scream.”

The defense is so weak that Jaskier’s grin breaks out in amusement. He continues to kiss Geralt’s knuckles with the utmost care, but the ache in his stomach still simmers.

Geralt groans with frustration.

“What is it?” Jaskier, ever so perceptive, notices his turmoil. The bliss on his face soon turns into concern and Geralt regrets ever letting on his emotions. “Talk to me, darling. It’s okay.”

“I—” Geralt realizes how silly it would sound, but Jaskier is waiting for an answer. “Tonight is the first time I’ve seen you since Ellander. Since the striga.”

“Since you accepted my hand in marriage.” Jaskier places an open-mouthed kiss on the scar on Geralt’s neck. “Darling, I wish I could have stayed with you at the temple. You know I do, but there was—”

“The coup at the border. I understand.” Geralt chastises himself for even bringing it up. He remembers how tired Jaskier looked after riding day and night to reach Temeria, how attentive he was when it came to nursing his injuries. “Uh—forget I said anything. You had to go, Jask. It’s fine.”

He also remembers when the urgent message came four days after they were betrothed and the sinking feeling in his stomach to watch Jaskier leave—albeit reluctantly. At the time, the prince kissed him so fiercely, his touch lingering on the signet ring he left on Geralt’s finger. Jaskier repeated his promise so many times, to return to him as soon as possible.

Geralt remembers the disappointment when he didn’t.

“It’s not fine.” Jaskier looks almost sad. “It’s never fine to leave you when you are hurt. It’s never fine to break my promise to you. Geralt, don’t you know you are my whole world? It’s my job to take care of you. Of course, you have every right to be angry with me.”

Except you also have to take care of the whole world.

Literally.

The world will always take precedence over a mere witcher.

“I missed you, that’s all.” Strangely, the admission lifts a weight off his chest. “I’m not angry with you for wanting to keep your people safe.”

“You aren’t?”

“I just—” Geralt’s stomach churns at the uncertain look on Jaskier’s face. “I just want to be with you, all of you. For more than four days at a time.”

“You have me.” Jaskier scrambles onto his elbow, not quite letting go of Geralt’s hand. “I’m here, all of me.”

“For tonight.”

“And tomorrow, and every day after.” He presses another kiss to the ring. “You’ll see, starting tomorrow morning. No more coups. I’ll stay with you when the tailors come over. Knowing how much you hate choosing designs and having people fuss all over you, it’d be cruel if I didn’t. It’s important that my husband looks dashing on his wedding day.”

“Hmm.”

The word husband is all it takes. Geralt finds himself drawn to Jaskier’s blinding smile, like a moth to a flame.

It should scare him, the thought of binding himself to someone. A witcher is not meant to stay at one place, with one person. And yet, Jaskier promised him the freedom to return to the path anytime as well as a seat at the Aedirnian court as the prince’s husband.

Because that’s the kind of person Jaskier is. When he’s in, he’s all in. In both his political life and with Geralt, Jaskier is ever so consistent. When he’s with Geralt, it’s like he’s only existing for the man in front of him, only in the here and now, as if his sun rises and falls with the tiniest sign of happiness on Geralt’s face. And yet, when he’s away…

It’s the world and the people the crown prince has sworn to protect.

It’ll always be the world before him.

Always second.

Geralt rubs the pad of his thumb on the signet ring, the proof of Jaskier’s devotion. The weight on his ring finger has become so comforting in Jaskier’s absence.

Maybe it’s enough. He has witnessed how Jaskier gives an ocean of love eagerly and unreservedly, to his work and his music. If Jaskier’s heart is willing to spare him anything like he’s someone worth loving, worth keeping, it’s enough.

Geralt drifts off with the prince soft and pliant, draped all over him.

And he wakes up to a cold bed, the familiar scent of citrus soap still faint on the sheets. Resting on the pillow, where tousled brown hair should be is a note scribbled in haste.

My darling witcher,

I must ride out before dawn as a riot has broken out near the settlement. It seems that men’s prejudice has not only made them seethe with hatred, but ruined our time together as well.

Forgive me for my absence, and for not having the courage to wake you before I leave.

Remember that I love you. I love you.

I love you,

Geralt’s grip tightens around the paper before letting go of it with resignation.

Perhaps he has made peace with being second in Jaskier’s heart. He just wishes the proof is not so solid in ink.

Geralt stops in his tracks when he sees Valdo Marx standing outside the kitchen, his blonde curls shining even in the low candlelight. There’s a tankard of wine casually held in his palm.

“Well, isn’t this the White Wolf himself?” The lord flicks a strand of hair out of his face, checking the witcher up and down. “What brings you here so late at night?”

“Could ask you the same,” Geralt doesn’t want to converse with the man for too long. Every time he speaks with Marx, the lord always hides an edge in his words that makes the witcher uneasy. “And Geralt is fine, as I said last time.”

“Of course, how can I forget the name of the man who captured our Prince Julian’s heart. For so many years, he thought of marriage as a mere joke. A songbird is not to be caged, he said, or he will be forever songless. Julian was ever so dramatic on this matter. But that’s before you swooped in and suddenly he’s reduced to a lovestruck fool. It’s always Geralt this, Geralt that, even before the ball.” Valdo leans against the doorframe, squinting and scrutinizing.

“You are in a chatty mood, my lord,” the witcher dismisses the salty comment and walks toward the door. “Excuse me for not having the time. I’m only here to fetch Jaskier some food.”

“No need.” Valdo puts a hand on Geralt’s elbow to stop him from entering the kitchen. The smell of alcohol is strong around him. “I’ve ordered the maid to prepare something to be brought up. I know Julian must have slept through dinner. How is he now?”

Geralt hums. The too-familiar tone with which Valdo speaks of Jaskier has always put him off, as well as the hand that’s currently resting on his arm. Even though the urge to shake the man off is palpable, Geralt is determined to remain civil to the most important member of Jaskier’s council.

“His heart acted up earlier. It’s fine now. But he’s still resting.”

“From the fatigue, I imagine.” Valdo releases Geralt’s arm, his face falling. “The riot was a real pain in the neck. The people living near Dol Blathanna have been displeased since the settlement started, but one that lasts a fortnight is a first. Julian barely slept a wink. He was dead on his feet by the end of it.”

And now he’s just woken up, waiting for Geralt to return.

“I should go if you have everything sorted—”

“Do you know how dangerous it got at one point? How out of control the situation was?” Valdo’s piercing eyes meet Geralt’s, his tone demanding. “How come you, the deadliest witcher and Julian’s betrothed, were not at his side protecting him?”

“Jaskier never wanted me involved. I assume the Butcher won’t be good for his looks.”

“You would be more stupid than I thought I you believed that bullshit,” Valdo curses loudly. “He wanted to propose after meeting you twice, even though his whole council was against the idea. And you think he’s ashamed of you? No, he’s leaving you out of everything to protect you.”

Geralt frowns, but the lord continues.

“He cares so much about your stand, your neutrality or whatever moral code your kind holds on for dear life. He believes accepting his hand has already compromised your beliefs—as if marrying a prince is such a chore—so he won’t ask your loyalty to Aedirn. He won’t ask you to fight for him.”

The bitterness in Valdo’s voice is nothing compared to the bile that rises up in Geralt’s throat.

“If I was with him…”

“He’d be safer. The guards can’t always stand between him and danger, as your first meeting has already proved.”

The lord’s jaw tightens before downing the content of his cup. The silence hangs in the quiet night.

As much as Geralt dislikes Valdo’s snarky remarks and jabs, he cannot bring himself to hate the man. His devotion to Jaskier is unmatched even amongst his closest advisors, let alone the fact that they were childhood friends.

Even when no one supported Jaskier, Valdo was there. And for that, Geralt will forever be grateful. Even though a witcher never answers to nobles, perhaps an explanation is owed to Valdo Marx.

“I am loyal to Jaskier if that’s your concern.” Geralt says in earnest. “He has my sword, even though I’m no knight.”

Valdo crosses his arms, the tankard still in his hand and tipping sideways. A drop of red liquid hits the floor.

“Good. If you have to marry our prince, you might as well take your duty of serving him more seriously. Although only the gods know why he chose you over so many more deserving.”

Geralt raises an eyebrow at the bitterness in that statement.

“Like a court advisor? A politician of the highest rank?” he stares down at the other man. “A long-time friend, maybe?”

No surprise flashes across the other man’s eyes, but being a lord his whole life means anything can be hidden under the calm surface.

He does let out a tight laugh, the wine loosening his tongue. “The whole continent will know before Julian.” He shakes his head, mumbling something incoherent. “Did you know he started to sing because of me? I took lute lessons one summer in Cidaris. I was eight and Julian was two years younger, and what do you know! He was better than me within six months. Ha! With talent like that, it’s a shame princes aren’t allowed to be bards.”

Geralt feels equally proud and jealous to hear the childhood tale. Jaskier has not talked about his relationship with Valdo much, apart from the fact that both of them were extremely competitive growing up. Although it is not difficult to imagine if a six-year-old Jaskier was as infuriatingly persistent as he is now.

“Are you to flaunt how well you know him again?” Geralt almost scowls. “How you know him better than anyone because you’ve known him for two decades longer?”

“I should remind you, witcher, that I’m also friends with people more powerful beyond your imagination. Mages who can dispose of a witcher with the snap of a finger.” Valdo straightens his back as if it’ll make him more imposing. “Julian may never listen to me on the matter of his marriage, but if you ever harm a hair—”

“What’s left of me will only be found in the deepest dungeon of Aedirn, I know.” Geralt holds his gaze steadily. These threats would be laughable if not so tiring. “No need to repeat yourself so many times, my lord.”

The promise hangs in the air. Just when Valdo Marx opens his mouth again, they are interrupted by soft footsteps padding from the other end of the hallway.

“Geralt? What’s taking so—Oh, Valdo.” Jaskier blinks while turning the corner, his sleep-rumpled hair sticking to all directions. His nightshirt is all wrinkled and unbuttoned halfway down, revealing thick chest hair. A soft woolen robe is draped around the prince’s shoulders. “Why are you still here? It’s so late, just go home already.”

And Valdo Marx, wordsmith and seasoned politician, is spluttering.

“I—Julian.” The other lord bows, way too formally, and clears his throat. His eyes are darting all over the place, avoiding the unkept picture of the prince. His already flushed face is turning a bright red. “I wanted to make sure you were alright. That is…um, why I stayed.”

“I’m fine, just tired.” Jaskier rubs at his heart in the guise of adjusting the shirt. “Now will you go? You did so well, as always. You deserve some rest.” Despite the weariness in Jaskier’s eyes, a hearty smile lights up his face, and Geralt hears Valdo’s breaths catch.

“If you say so, Julian.” The lord nods before taking his leave, throwing another stern look over his shoulder at the witcher, only to avert them when Jaskier drops all pretense and burrows into Geralt’s embrace with his back to the exit. The clicking of Valdo’s heels fastens almost desperately.

Geralt would have sympathized with the man if he didn’t have something much more important to take care of.

“Are you really fine?” Geralt asks quietly, frowning when Jaskier’s freezing hands press against the nape of his neck, and the prince shakes his head faintly.

“Not when you’re held up for so long, darling. I’m still waiting for my late-night snack,” Jaskier mumbles into the crook of Geralt’s neck.

“It’ll be brought up in a minute.”

“You are the sweetest.”

“Valdo, actually. He thought of it.”

“Oh.” Jaskier pulls away, surprised. “Have I told you that I learned the lute just to spite him, back when we were kids?”

“You can tell me now.”

The prince wraps the robe tighter around his torso and steers Geralt towards their bedroom. “It’s a great tale that ends with my sweeping triumph, my dear. If you will just follow me.”

Gladly.

Valdo’s words keep turning in Geralt’s head for the rest of the evening as he helps Jaskier with a simple meal before letting him retire again. Asleep for the second time, the prince looks uncharacteristically small, his frame swathed by the thick velvety blankets, carefully tucked around him to fend off the chills. A shadow falls under his long lashes, making Jaskier’s features appear a lot younger than he is, a fragile buttercup, even an innocent one.

But Geralt’s prince is anything but innocent. Not when he’s seen no less evil than anyone on this continent, not when he’s hurt deeply for acting against it.

Geralt wraps his body around the prince, and knows for a fact that he is willing to follow Jaskier anywhere on this journey.

Geralt fusses with the cuffs of his ceremonial doublet one last time when the servant rushes in.

“It’s the king,” the boy says with rounded eyes. “He just collapsed, sir. The prince is with him.”

When he gets to the other side of the castle, there must be more than a dozen people in the corridor, close friends of the royal family waiting outside of the wooden double doors. Among them is Valdo, pacing anxiously at the edge of the crowd.

There are only two heartbeats in the king’s chamber, one steady, the other one weak and erratic, like a candle in the wind.

Geralt doesn’t need to smell the decay in the air or the stale melancholy trapped in the building to know that the king is dying.

Through the closed doors, Jaskier’s soft whimpers follow the king’s hoarse murmurs. Geralt forces his heightened senses away from what must be a private moment, the last heart-to-heart Jaskier will ever have with his father. He shouldn’t intrude.

The collar is too tight. Geralt rests his hand against the door by instinct, wanting more than anything to be with Jaskier, to hold and comfort him. Waiting out here might just be the cruelest torture when Jaskier is hurting in there.

“Geralt,” Valdo interrupts the witcher’s wandering mind, “I’m sorry that it’s happening today.”

Geralt blinks at the genuine sympathy on the other man’s face. “It’s hardly about me, Valdo.”

They turn their heads towards the king’s bedchamber in unison. The young prince sitting at his father’s deathbed is the single focus of both men, of everyone standing in this corridor, and soon enough, of this entire country and all of the northern kingdoms.

“Still, I was warming up to you, witcher. It’s a shame your big day has to end like this.”

Geralt hums, and, “Thank you, my lord.”

In the dim light, Geralt’s attire appears to be a homogenous dark fabric, the embroidery easily overlooked—buttercups, threaded with the same black as the silk. Subtle, but they are there. There are hidden buttercups all over him, weaving through his color and laying claim.

Jaskier would appreciate the design. Geralt brushes his thumb over one flower sadly.

“Did he tell you already?” Valdo asks.

“About what?”

“The investigation.”

A frown creases between Geralt’s brows. “I thought you couldn’t trace it back to Calanthe? That there was no proof.”

“Because it wasn’t her. Think about it. Since when has Calanthe resorted to a shady kill like this in the past? The Lioness was angry at our prince and she was vocal about it, but you’d think she’d just charge across the Yaruga with a sword in her hand,” the blonde man snorts. “We were looking the wrong way.”

“Jaskier never told me.” Geralt stands there, dumbfounded.

“He was protecting you. Again.”

Annoyance licks up in Geralt’s chest, burning for answers. “What is the truth, then? You have no inclination of doing the same, Valdo. Just tell me.”

The lord drags the witcher away from the murmuring crowd and lowers his voice in secrecy. “We were overthinking it by assuming it was an elaborate plan, but it hit me one day. How can we be so blind when it’s right in front—”

“Out with it.” Geralt grits his teeth and finally the noble sighs and ceases stalling.

“A friendly fire.”

“The poisonous arrow was friendly.” Geralt deadpans.

“When it was sent by someone who only wished to deter Julian from furthering his plans and angering every other king in the north by siding with the elves. Someone who arranged an attempt on his life only to scare him off, but didn’t anticipate the one million things that could go wrong on the day.” Valdo sends a heavy look to the closed double door. “Someone dear to Julian. Someone who has regretted the decision since.”

Geralt feels like all air has been punched out of his lungs. His knuckles crack and his nails are close to drawing blood from the palm. It’s because of Valdo’s hand halting him in place that Geralt is not charging into the room.

“His own father…” Geralt murmurs, suddenly all strength saps from his body and he just wants to get Jaskier out of this damned place, away from the man who’s supposed to support him but instead almost took his life. “I need to go in.”

“Don’t. These people will know something’s wrong. This cannot get out,” Valdo hisses. Down the hall, a few lords and ladies are already throwing them some curious looks.

“Jaskier knows this,” Geralt says, shaking off the buzzing in his ears.

“And he’s made his peace with it, and now they are spending their last moments together. Your anger, or mine, is—”

The double doors open with a creak, and there Jaskier is, eyes red-rimmed but his back straight.

“—pointless.”

Valdo completes the sentence but Geralt pays no mind. When he reaches Jaskier’s side with a few quick strides, there’s no other heartbeat inside the room, only silence. His world narrows down to the thrumming in Jaskier’s chest.

The palpitation is unmistakable. Fluttering dangerously.

So is the stench of overpowering pain, mixed with the distinct citrus floral scent that is Jaskier and the never-ending decay of a sick old man. Geralt almost gags.

“The king is dead,” the prince announces the tragedy. A few nobles reply with kind words. It all fades into background noises.

Geralt’s gaze fixes on the man he’s supposed to marry this very day, and watches as Jaskier bites into his lips when another quiver happens upon the spasming muscles of his heart like the wings of a hummingbird. A lady reaches out to offer condolences, so Jaskier takes her hands and thanks her. His features reveal nothing.

The paleness could be taken as a result of grief, the tremor as well. The guests remain blissfully oblivious to the agony their prince is in, and one by one they come to him and linger.

But Jaskier’s agony cannot escape Geralt’s eyes, not when he’s the one most intimate to those heartaches that have been with Jaskier since the day they met. A sheen of sweat gathers at Jaskier’s forehead, his lips pursed into a tight line, but the prince won’t show any weakness to these people. Instead, he stands tall and proud, stubborn like the first dandelion in the spring, blossoming where the wind is cruel and the soil still frozen.

“Julian,” Valdo calls out the name like a prayer.

“I need you, Valdo.” Jaskier’s voice cracks, the first outward indication of discomfort. “We’ve found ourselves in the most precarious situation, and I—”

Jaskier breaks off for air, squeezes his eyes shut to ride out a chill down his spine. Geralt catches the prince by the elbow and instantly Jaskier leans into the support.

“I will make the arrangement for you, my prince,” Valdo replies when the prince schools his expression back to normal and gives out a trusting smile.

“I depend on you, all of you,” Jaskier addresses the crowd, “for the future of this land we share. But now it’s time for me to grieve, my good people. Allow me some privacy and time with my husband.”

The slip goes unnoticed when the lords and ladies are led out and the only people left are Geralt, Valdo and Jaskier himself. The prince lets out a labored gasp, staggers, and sags against Geralt’s chest like a puppet with its strings cut.

“Shit. Jask—” Geralt scrambles to keep him up but Jaskier drops like a leaf in the wind and they both end up on the floor in a heap of limbs. He looks to Valdo in desperation.

“I’ll get the healer. Julian, please hang on.” The other man’s hand lingers by Jaskier’s wrist before he hurries away, but the prince seems unaware.

And it’s just them, alone on their wedding day.

Jaskier’s ragged breathing echoes in the empty hallway and Geralt has never felt more helpless in his long life. The prince’s face crumbles in agony and his body won’t stop shaking.

“Hey, just look at me.” Geralt places Jaskier’s cheek against his shoulder so their gazes meet, the cornflower blue not responding. “Why do you need to be so stubborn? Damn you, Jaskier…”

“You are wea—wearing buttercups, Geralt. Look—” A boneless hand comes up to caress the dark embroidery on Geralt’s collar, Jaskier’s eyes sparkle with fascination before a tremor racks his body again and contorts him into a writhing mess.

“Shh. Don’t talk, Jask. Save your strength.”

Geralt’s words are drowned in fear, and he can only wrap a steady hand around Jaskier’s cold, clammy one and hold it over the prince’s frantic heart in the hope of easing the tightly wound muscles underneath.

“But…but I’m all over you. Like you are all over me. See?” Jaskier squeezes Geralt’s fingers and that’s when he notices the wolf pattern sewn into Jaskier’s sleeve for the first time, silver thread against white. A perfect symmetry between them.

Despite himself, the corners of Geralt’s lips tug into a sad smile, and it is soon returned by Jaskier. His eyes well up in the process. From the physical strain or grief, Geralt isn’t sure.

“I don’t need it to know that I’m yours, my prince. Now and always.”

Where Jaskier bit into his lips earlier seeps with crimson, a stark contrast against his bloodless complexion, the look in his eyes dreamy and far-away.

“My knight in shining armor. My savior.” Jaskier says in earnest before something dawns in his eyes and devastation sets in. A whimper chokes in his throat. “You, Geralt…Will you betray me too? Even…my own father. The person closest to me. But how can he? How—”

The prince squirms against Geralt’s chest and struggles to take in air, his cheeks soaked wet with sweat and tears. Something twists in Geralt’s stomach powerlessly as he hears the wheezing sounds in Jaskier’s lungs.

“I won’t, Jaskier. Please,” Geralt pleads into Jaskier’s hair but it falls on deaf ears. Strings of words tumble out of his mouth, delirious and nonsensical.

“We didn’t even have the time…couldn’t even make it right. There was no time…”

Geralt shushes him and tries to calm Jaskier’s breathing by stroking his back but it only makes it worse. The deterioration is happening too fast, juxtaposed with grief and shock that Jaskier’s already weakened heart cannot handle. Geralt fears the worst.

“My father, I—they all hurt me and leave me…Like my… Don’t leave me, G’ralt—" Jaskier clings and pleads, but cannot escape the cage made out of his sorrow.

“I won’t. Not when you’ve promised the same, Jask. Stay with me. Just stay with me, please.”

He’s trying.

Jaskier is trying and failing. And it’s the last straw.

“It hurts too much.”

With that, blue eyes roll into the back of his head and Jaskier collapses in Geralt’s embrace, the column of his neck exposed with the strain and the pulse underneath faint like a whisper. His listless hand slips from Geralt’s grip and hits the floor.

Carefully as if any more force would break Jaskier’s skin, Geralt presses his lips to Jaskier’s still ones and tastes of copper and salt. He draws out the kiss like in those fairytales, like a proper true love’s kiss. When he finally pulls away, a swarm of healers and nurses are surrounding them and Geralt is pulled away by hands he doesn’t recognize.

But Jaskier doesn’t wake from the kiss.

Not like in the stories.

---

I know Jaskier isn’t having the best day but I promise this story has a happy ending. <3

Also I’m not sure who wants to be tagged for this one, but feel free to tell me ;)

#geraskier #geraskier fic #hurt/comfort #prince!jaskier #jaskier whump #hurt jaskier #insecure geralt #(slightly) jealous geralt #valdo marx #geralt x jaskier #established relationship

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bethdutten · 3 years

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not sure if you do Geralt but jealous geralt maybe?? 👀 or him admitting feelings openly despite how hard it is for him <3 or alternatively Henry openly telling the press about your relationship?? (Age gap maybe ;)) )

the first two!! (although I would do the other one separately??)

warnings: none!! angst, fluff, geralt being geralt

This had been going on for years. You would cross paths with Geralt a couple times a year, often times for only a night or two, and the attraction was enough to sustain you until the next time you saw him.

But he never made any indication that he reciprocated it.

You would spend hours drinking and telling stories, inching closer throughout the night. Geralt would laugh, which Jaskier had once told you he had literally never seen him do with anyone else. But, still, nothing. Perhaps he didn’t feel the same electric attraction to you as you did to him.

You were in Geralt’s room on one of those nights, after almost six months apart this time. He was showing you the claw of a Griffin he’d pulled out of his flesh during one contract, feeling it was a trophy good enough to keep.

“Can only imagine the scar it left,” you grinned, handing it back to Geralt.

He placed it back in his pack, grinning. “Here, look yourself.” He pulled up his shirt, displaying the scar on the left side of his abdomen right below his ribs. Your eyes widened at the crescent-shaped scar, before they shifted over to the sight of his exposed chest, the dark dusting of hair that trailed down to...

You don’t know what came over you, but you reached a hand out and let your fingertips trace over the scar, before brushing over his defined abs and onto another scar just under his pec.

Geralt flinched slightly at the feeling of your hand so tenderly grazing his scars, and the movement snapped you out of your revere.

“Sorry, I--” You blushed, yanking your hand back.

“No, it’s fine.” He just lowered his shirt slowly, eyes meeting yours. Geralt audibly swallowed as you both stared at each other, subconsciously leaning towards each other until it took only a small movement forward for Geralt to kiss you.

His lips were surprisingly gently, his hand coming up to rest on the nape of your neck as he held you in place. You felt your eyes flutter shut, lips parting to allow Geralt’s tongue access to your mouth as he languidly deepened the kiss, warm and honey-slow.

But just as quickly as it happened, it ended.

Geralt pulled away with a huff, eyes squeezed shut as he turned away from you. “Ah--fuck. Sorry. I should not have-- fuck, sorry.”

You blinked, a hand coming up to touch your kiss-bruised lips. “Geralt?” Did he regret it so quickly?

When he turned back to you, his face was stoic, the look he reserved for a rude alderman or ignorant townspeople. No emotion. “I apologize for crossing a line. I hope this does not change our friendship.”

You felt something in your chest break at that, your heart dropping to your stomach. Oh. He made a mistake. You were just a friend.

You forced a smile onto your face and nodded. “Of course. No harm done, Geralt. You are a dear friend.”

You left his room that night, and in the morning, he was gone before the sun rose.

It wasn’t until a month later that you saw Geralt again. You were passing through Touissant, and he was still there after battling a bruxa a week earlier that had left him quite injured.

You tried to ignore the fact that you had not stopped thinking about him since your last meeting; despite hearing so clearly that he was not interested in you, you couldn’t get the taste of him out of your mouth. It was cruel for him to let you know what a kiss from him felt like, then to promise you would never feel it again.

But you were determined to take him however you could. The bard was with him, and could clearly sense a tension between you two.

“Did something... happen? The last time he saw you?” Jaskier asked with a raised brow, placing your glass of ale down.

You shrugged, taking a few gulps before you willed yourself to speak. “Geralt is Geralt. That’s how he always is.”

Jaskier hummed, narrowing his eyes at you. “Not with you, he isn’t.”

Before you could answer, Geralt came limping over and collapsed down in the seat across from you, sighing. “Fucking barmaids.”

You laughed, resigned to pretend the kiss never happened and shove down your feelings like usual. “Maybe if you weren’t so charming to them, you wouldn’t have so much trouble.” This cracked a smile from the aloof Witcher, and after that, the night went more like usual.

Until a drunken man came sidling up to you, rambling something of an armoury and sheep. You glanced hesitantly over at Geralt, who now had his eyes locked on the man with a glare that would have burst anyone into spontaneous flames.

Jaskier cleared his throat, glancing between Geralt and the man. “Perhaps we should--”

But you were already wincing away from the man as he draped his arm across your shoulders, clearly oblivious to the waves of anger rolling off Geralt. Injury or not, you barely had time to duck out of the way before Geralt was launching himself over the table, grabbing on to the man and hauling him up. The man let out a yelp, flinching away from Geralt’s piercing stare and deep growl as he snapped, “Stay the fuck away from her.”

You leaned against Jaskier, brows furrowed as you watched the scene in front of you. What the fuck was he doing? Sure, the guy was getting a bit too handsy, but you could handle yourself.

Geralt threw the guy to the ground, glancing over at you. He must have seen something on your face, because he left without a word, stomping through the now-silent tavern and up to his room.

You looked over to Jaskier, who simply shooed you into the direction of Geralt’s retreating form.

When you got to Geralt’s room, you hesitantly opened the door and found him sitting on the edge of his bed, just staring forward.

“Geralt? What... what was that?” You closed the door behind yourself, coming to sit beside him and carefully reaching out a hand to rest on the fist he had clenched on his thigh, but thinking better of it at the last minute. “Are you okay?”

He kept his glare aimed forward, jaw tight as he swallowed. There was silence for a long time, and you didn’t expect him to answer when he spoke softly, “I thought I could... I don’t want to ruin what we have. Whatever it is, it’s the one good thing I have. Even if it’s not enough sometimes.”

You frowned, eyes dropping. “Not... enough? I’m not enough?”

Geralt finally turned to you, letting out a pained sigh. “No, you’re not.”

Feeling tears swimming in your eyes, you looked up and sniffled, nodding. But before you could say anything, Geralt continued talking.

“I... fuck, I want you around all the time. I want to kiss you all the time. I want to fucking hold you and hear your voice and your laugh and I-I don’t get that so it’s not enough.”

You felt your heart stop, eyes looking between his sharp yellow irises and trying to decipher any lie in them. There was none. There was no way Geralt, the White Wolf, was saying these things to you, but yet he was.

“Geralt--”

“And if you don’t feel the same way, I understand,” he cut you off, glancing down at your lips for a fleeting second. “I’ll take your friendship over nothing. But if want those things, then know that I think I am in love with you, and I would like a chance to prove myself worthy of someone like--”

You cut him off this time, with a kiss that rivalled your first one in intensity and emotion. You gently nipped at Geralt’s bottom lip, earning you a low growl as he cupped your face, pulling you into his lap.

You moaned into his mouth, hands tangling in his hair and deepening the kiss until your heard a slight wince.

“Shit, sorry,” you pulled away with an apologetic gasp, glancing at his injured leg.

Geralt brushed a thumb across your cheek, giving you a blinding smile that made you weak. “I love you.”

You felt tears coming to your eyes again, this time for a completely different reason. You gave him a weak smile back, murmuring, “My wolf. I love you too.”

#geralt of rivia x reader #geralt x reader #geralt x you #geralt of rivia #the witcher #the witcher x reader #henry cavill x reader

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jaskierisbi · 3 years

Text

okay y’all, this chaotic idea will NOT leave my mind so imma make it your problem too

okay, so jaskier and geralt have been traveling together for a full year since they met, the two of them not having split up once. jaskier didn’t want to risk geralt leaving him forever because he’s a grumpy and skittish motherfucker so jask stayed by his side since that spring day in posada

until geralt announced he was heading north to kaer morhen, of course

jaskier is sad, because he was really enjoying his (insanely attractive) new very best friend in the whole wide world, but realistically, he admittedly needed a break. jaskier falls hard and fast and spending so many months with geralt wasn’t helping. if they stayed together any longer, he might do something he’d regret like profess his undying love or kiss him or something

I mean, how could he not? jaskier had seen on more than one occasion geralt refuse pay for even dangerous contracts if he saw the family was starving. if a child was inquisitive of him instead of fearful, he would be in a good mood for the rest of the day. he took meticulous care of roach, talking to her softly and fondly

he always let jaskier eat first. was patient with him when jaskier expressed he wanted to help forage and gather potion supplies but didn’t have any useful knowledge about plants. he showed jaskier how to set traps and let him season their food (“it’s better like this, geralt, admit it”)

after jaskier got into a fistfight with three other tavern-goers when they dared insult geralt in his vicinity, the witcher quietly wrapped his hands and looked at him with something soft in his eyes. not long after that, if jaskier was running low on lute strings or ink for his pen, they would ‘mysteriously’ end up in his bags

geralt went from being annoyed with his presence, to tolerant, to begrudgingly fond. jaskier saw how he relaxed when he sung softly and strummed his lute across the campfire. once, geralt had even let him braid his hair when he was in a good mood after a contract

with all of this considered, jaskier’s romantic heart had more than enough ammunition to fixate on his newfound companion

yes, distance should do him good

except that it didn’t

he just spent his entire winter teaching at oxenfurt and dreaming about meeting up with geralt in the spring. he didn’t even bed anyone the entire cold season, which was so abnormal that even his friends commented on it

so when jaskier’s eyes fell upon geralt’s figure on the road outside the tavern they agreed to meet up at, all logic left his mind

he distantly can recall shouting out a friendly greeting to the witcher but before he knew what he was doing, he had kissed geralt straight on the mouth

jaskier immediately leapt back with barely concealed horror. the two men stood in silence, staring at one another. geralt’s face gave away nothing and jaskier was thinking a mile a minute for a way to excuse his impulsive act

a lie formulated in his mind. not the best one, but it was the only one he could come up with in less than a minute

“what? that’s how you greet friends in lettenhove, did you not know?”

geralt’s brows furrowed and he tilted his head. “…no.”

this is just a long winded way of me saying that jaskier has to stick with his lie and kiss all and any of his friends- new and old- hello (with geralt being slightly confused and jealous in the background)

AND THEN THEY START RUNNING INTO ALL. OF. HIS. FRIENDS. essi. pricilla. shani. and every time, jaskier made pleading eyes at each of his friends before kissing them basically out of nowhere, very aware of geralt’s watchful gaze

they narrow their eyes at him but the sheer panic in his eyes swayed them to wait and listen to jaskier when he pulled them off to somewhere private

they think it’s fucking hilarious

~also, jaskier isn’t human in this because I want him and geralt to live happily ever after together after they eventually get their shit together~

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cherryjuicegf · 2 years

Note

Hi dear! “I’m not jealous” for the smut prompt 💖💖

thanks for the prompt darling!! anon also asked for "say you want me, and i'm yours," and they fit together, it got a little bit out of hand but i hope you enjoy 💕

wc 736, explicit towards the end

"i'm not jealous." & "say you want me, and i'm yours."

The door creaks, long awaited and dreaded, and Geralt closes his eyes, back turned away, and pretends to be asleep.

The door closes. He's not a good actor.

This, or Jaskier has come to know him too well.

"I thought you were asleep."

The voice behind him is light, a little rusty from the singing and the wine, and he longs to hear it close to his ear, taste the wine of Jaskier's lips and if he thinks hard enough he can picture their exact movement, he has memorized the cracks and how soft they are late at night, when they finally need to keep silent.

Your shoulders slump only when you are sleeping, Jaskier had told him once and now he realizes his whole body is tense. He wonders how long has Jaskier spent staring at his shoulders from behind. Probably as long as he himself has spent staring at his lips when he speaks.

He sighs into the pillow. "I couldn't if I wanted. You've been stinking from miles all night, talking to that maid of yours."

And he falters.

If he was another man he would pretend he didn't say anything and force himself to sleep. If Jaskier was another man he would pretend not to hear or would merely laugh. But Jaskier is not another man. Even worse, Jaskier has drunk five cups of wine. Even worse, Geralt is so fucking pathetic in love. Infuriatingly so.

He hears Jaskier still beside the bed and for a moment, there is silence. Then he huffs. Gods, Geralt can get drunk in the mere scent of him, the simple feeling of warmth when he exists behind him.

The faint ruffling tells him Jaskier had taken his shirt off, and the bed dips. "Oh, Geralt." The bard drags his voice ever so slightly, low and cunning, just to make him shiver and burn. A whisper. "You're jealous, then."

"I am not jealous," he grunts.

He is.

Jaskier laughs silently and he craves to look at him, see how his eyes wrinkle at the corners. He stays still, eyes fixed on the wall. Waits.

After a moment, a hot breath puffs on his shoulder and soft lips are pressed on cold skin, caring and clever and he barely holds back a whimper. "It's okay," Jaskier whispers, lips still ghosting over his shoulder, his neck, a hint of a touch. His voice echoes close to his ear now and somehow, it sounds more vulnerable than before. "I like being wanted."

A hand tracing his hip. Geralt swallows, the stretch of his pants becoming more and more persistent. "You are wanted by everyone."

A pause. Calloused fingers, hovering over his stomach. He can feel Jaskier tilting his head. "But, my love," he smiles, "you are not everyone."

He can't help it. And maybe he is a fool, or maybe he has fallen in too deep to try and surface now. And he doesn't care, not at this point. Not when Jaskier's voice is dripping with honey and he longs to taste it.

He turns around.

Gods, he thinks, and faces the bard, gods. He's unfairly beautiful, eyes bright with lust and love and lips heady and parted and cheeks blushing like he's some kind of shy maiden, like he hasn't known him for decades.

His hand is now trailing under his pants and Geralt shudders, eyes fluttering. He tries to keep his voice steady, and fails. "Say that again."

Jaskier hums and leans in, presses kisses along his jaw, hand still lingering over his now hard cock and Geralt whines silently. "Say you want me," another kiss, on his neck, "I'm yours."

A breath hitching. Geralt opens his eyes, meets his gaze and smiles. "I want you."

With a huff that sounds just a little too wet, Jaskier grins back at him. Gently, he presses their lips together and kisses him, deep, and wraps his hand around Geralt's cock, firm and skilled. Geralt moans into the kiss, threads his fingers in Jaskier's curls and pulls him closer, impossibly, as though to merge their bodies together and Jaskier follows willingly as ever.

Then he pulls back and looks at him and he's smiling so wide Geralt wants to melt in the curve of his lips. "You have me," he says, promises. "All of me. My love."

He kisses him again and Geralt gasps and breathes him in, all of him, and wants, and wants, and wants. And lovingly, Jaskier gives.

#the witcher #geraskier #jaskier #geralt of rivia #geralt x jaskier #chrysa writes #fic recs #samstree #prompt fill

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hopefultingle · 3 years

Text

Geralt’s Other Half (pt. 2)

A woman who goes by the name of Hope, one day gets taken into a world she has thought was only on television. The longer she stays, the more she realizes that maybe this place wasn’t unfamiliar to her after all. In which two complete opposite’s are connected through Destiny without even knowing.

In this story it doesn’t go by the show or games at all, I kind of made a twist on it. I’m not 100% knowledgeable on the witcher because I’ve only ever watched the show, so I’m sorry if it’s a little rough. Also, you can change her name and read it as an x reader if that is better for you

Angst, slow burn, asshole geralt, soft Geralt, protective Geralt, jealous Geralt, jealous reader/OC, 18+, violence of course, happy ending

Hope had never been too keen on having peoples watchful and judgmental eyes boring into her. All her life she has stuck to the shadows, she preferred to be the one observing and watching, not the other way around. So, the moment a group of mens eyes found her nervous figure, her palms began to sweat and her heart rate to pick up its pace. She can almost feel her heart jumping in her throat as the stares continued on, and not once letting up.

This caught the witchers attention and has him tilting his head to the side to get a better look at her. Too focused on the odd looks coming her way, she doesn't notice when Geralt follows her line of sight. A grumble vibrates through his chest at the disgusting looks on the mens faces. He may not be a mind reader, but he sure as fuck is a man and knows exactly what disgusting thoughts are running through their minds while looking at her. His eyes go into slits as his nostrils flare, the protectiveness consuming him whole.

He wouldn't mind ending a few pigs lives at the moment, the annoyance from before hadn't fully left him which fuelled him even more. He feels her petite body slightly caress into the side of his arm as she try's to shrink away from their stares. That's when one of the men finally takes notice of him and quickly swats his buddy's arm to get his attention. The rest of them look over in fear at the rage on the witchers face and take that as their cue to go back to what they were doing before.

Hopes eyes linger on Geralts hardened face and can't help it when her heart skips a beat. She couldn't understand why he all of a sudden got so angry, but she was also thankful for it because those grimy mens eyes were finally off of her and could breathe once again. Her eyes gloss over while she's off in her own head and so, she doesn't notice when his eyes look back down at her. A rough clear of the throat awakes her causing a blush to adorn her soft cheeks.

"Sorry." She mumbles while awkwardly stepping away from him.

He stares at her for a long second, making her feel even more nervous and hot, before he finally curtly nods at her.

Meanwhile, a few feet away, Jaskier is arguing with a poor dwarf over needing more than one room for the now trio.

"I am sorry, but we only have one room tonight. Take it or leave it boy," the dwarf says frustratedly.

Jaskier groans while tilting his head back, "Geralt is going to feed me to a ghoul if I can't get him his own room! What are you not understanding dwarf?!"

The dwarf just continues to stare at the bard in annoyance while Jaskier stares back at him with pleading and angry eyes. The staring contest lasts for a long minute before it's cut off by the sound of Geralt’s heavy footsteps coming up to stand behind him.

Jaskier huffs while rolling his eyes for the millionth time in the past five minutes. He then jabs his arm out with an open palm in between the two and demands, "fine! Give me the bloody key, you despicable little man."

The dwarf glares at him one more time before waddling off to grab the key, and leaving a few curse words in his wake.

Hope makes her way past Geralt, arm slightly brushing against his once again, to lean up against the table beside Jaskier, thankful to have the last few odd unwelcoming stares blocked by the two of them. She stands out like a fire hydrant with her clothing she is still wearing from the 21st century.

"Why you so annoyed, froggy?" She teases half heartedly, but also in slight worry for her new friend. He gives her a soft glare, "again with calling me a frog?"

She just smiles innocently at him as he snatches the key from the dwarf who had finally brought it to him.

"Good luck is most definitely not on our side, dear. We have to share a room with the brooding witcher," Jaskier jabs his finger towards Geralt while slightly leaning towards her small form in a defensive kind of way before speaking to him, "and before you make a scene. Yes I tried to get another room, but the rude dwarf wouldn't listen!"

Hope bites her lip at the thought of sharing a room with the very, very, attractive man. At least Jaskier will be there which will most definitely help calm her nerves just a bit. She catches the sound of a heavy sigh before seeing Geralt snatch the key from Jaskiers hand. A yelp leaves the slightly smaller mans mouth before he chuckles nervously while brushing non existent dirt off his jacket. Hope can't help, but to let out a small snort to which Jaskier glares back at her for.

"Let's go." Geralt sharply commands, and then he's off toward the staircase leading to the floor with the rooms. Hope lightly laughs while rubbing her companions back, "you're such a timid little frog, Jaskier."

He sticks his tongue out at her.

"Ha ha ha very funny. You heard the man, now get going you little wretched thing."

Geralt swings the door open for the three of them to a decent sized room with a single bed and thankfully a couch. Once they're all fully in with the door shut and locked, does Hope decide to speak up while making her way over to stand in front of the warm fire.

"I'll take the floor and you guys can take the bed and couch," she rubs her cold fingers together near the open fire and lets out a content sigh.

"No." Geralt grunts out.

Hope whips her head to look at him in surprise. "Huh? what do you mean no?"

He marches over to the bed before grabbing a pillow and then also yanking off one of the thin linen sheets. "I mean, no. I'll take the floor and you take the bed. Jaskier gets the couch. "

Hope goes to protest, but is cut off with a raise of a brow from him. So instead she lets out a sigh before making her way over to him near the bed.

"Oh thank the gods. I didn't know if my back would be able to handle one more night on the dreadful hard ground!" Jaskier exclaims happily while jumping onto the couch and sighing in ecstasy with a smile adorning his face. He quickly pulls his lute up to his chest and begins to lightly strum a few soft cords while humming out the lyrics.

Hope stands in front of Geralt with nervousness running through her veins. Should I say it? She asks herself.

"What is it, girl?" Geralt asks more softly than he intends to which surprises him.

After a huge inhale, the words tumble out of her mouth quicker than she anticipated, "youcansleeponthebedwithme?"

A few seconds of silence go by before deciding to peak up at him to see a small smirk on his lovely handsome face while his left eyebrow is raised in amusement.

"If you don't mind, I wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable."

Her head quickly bounces back and forth in protest, "no, no, you wouldn't. Don't worry, I don't mind and plus there's more than enough room..."

His veins are set on fire at the sight of her cute little blush, he can't help the small smile that slips onto his face at the sight. He quickly clears his throat before stepping around her to throw the pillow and blanket at Jaskiers face. A shout leaves the mans mouth, "Hey! You could've made me drop my lute, you animal."

"If only, then we wouldn't have to listen to your god awful songs." Geralt reals back.

Jaskier shoots up in his seat and points his finger at him. "You are very mean, Geralt!"

Hope lets out an airy laugh while laying down onto the bed and sliding herself under the soft sheet. She rests her head on her palm as she continues watching the two bicker like a married couple, "you guys are too much. Geralt, leave the poor man alone."

He just does his signature hum before finally making his way over to the other side of the bed while Jaskier pouts in his makeshift bed.

At that moment a thought runs through her head causing a smile to make its way onto her face, "hey Jaskier?"

His eyes slide over to meet her light ones.

"Yes little maidan?"

An annoyed groan leaves Geralts chest as his massive build slides under the covers. He doesn't know if it's from the sound of Jaskier calling her 'little maidan' or the fact that he has to sleep in clothing, it's most likely a bit of both. Normally he'd sleep half naked, but he didn't want to scare her away after he had finally just found her.

"Would you mind playing Toss a Coin To Your Witcher?"

"Fucking hell." Geralt whispers out beside her.

Hope holds back the giggle wanting to ripple through her chest, of course she remembers how much Geralt hates that song, but she absolutely adores it. It would also help her sleep, so asking him to play it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.

"Why of course I can!"

She hears the strumming of the first few cords and smiles in content when the words begin to flow out from his lips. Her eyes find their way to Geralts one last time before mumbling out a goodnight and then turning her back towards him to try and sleep. About half way through the song, she starts to feel her eyes beginning to droop and before she knows it she's finally out like a light.

Geralt is able to miraculously block out the obnoxious song and focuses in on her slow heart beats. The sound brings him comfort and he doesn't even realize it because before he knows it, he's fallen asleep facing her small defined back. A dreamless sleep welcoming him for the first time since... ever.

Jaskiers fingers begin to falter on the strings of his lute, sleep wanting to consume him ever so badly. He tries to fight it in order to finish the song, but before he knows it his eyes begin to close and his mouth stops moving while hanging slack. A little drool beginning to leak down from the corner of his mouth.

Then his snoring is the only sound to be heard throughout the room for the rest of the peaceful night.

——————————

Hopes eyes groggily open to be temporarily blinded by the morning sun shining in through the windows and right in her face. Her hand quickly flys up to her eyes to block it out and rub the gross feeling of sleep from out of them. As she slowly fully awakens then does she notice how it's still quiet throughout the room aside from the light snoring coming from farther off from where she resides. Her hand then flips down from her eyes just for them to lay upon a sleeping Geralt. A small smile graces her lips at the sight of his softened features, and she can't help, but think about how lovely and at peace he looks. Definitely different from his normal scowl he seems to always hold throughout the day. She continues to stare at him selfishly for a few minutes longer, before noticing the corner of his lips turn up in a slight curve.

"You done?"

The sound of his deep gravely voice makes her eyes bulge out her sockets while her heart tries to escape from her rib cage.

"Oh my god!" She shouts in a whisper.

His golden eyes finally open to meet hers in slight amusement, but when he sees the flustered look on her face he can't help the feeling that is sent straight to his groin. Oh how much he'd love to see her looking all flustered like that while having her small little body pinned beneath his.

"Fuck." He whispers out before turning around to throw his legs over the side of the bed. The images of her and him doing things that he shouldn't be thinking of right now, invade his mind. He then hears the rustling of bedsheets behind him, alerting him that she's now sat up in bed.

"Wait Geralt I uh-"

He lightly grunts.

"Calm down, sweetheart. I was messing with you."

He hears a breath of air leave her lips in relief.

"I'll be back, wake up the moron on the couch. We leave in 10."

Hope watches as he stands up to make his way over to the door that leads out into the hall. A thought crosses her mind as she watches his form get farther away, which makes her body shoot up off the bed to barrel her bare feet across the room and over to him.

"Geralt, wait, wait, wait!"

He hums when she softly latches her hand onto his large bicep. She gulps nervously while looking up into the one eye looking down at her over his shoulder.

God why is everything he does so attractive, she thinks to herself before coming out with what she wanted to say. "As in we, you mean me included, right?"

He looks back to the door while yanking it open which causes her hand to slide off him dejectedly, thinking that must mean a no. Where the hell would she go to then? How would she get food? She doesn't know jack shit when it comes to money in this world, what if-

"Yes." Is the only he says and then he's out the door without another word.

"Oh, thank fucking god." She whispers out to herself before excitedly walking over to Jaskier to wake him up like she was asked. Her hand gently shakes his shoulder which causes a loud snort to leave his throat before his body then shoots upwards, almost knocking heads with the poor girl in the process.

"Wow easy there, froggy. Good morning sunshine!" She giggles at the lost look on his face. She watches as his half lidded eyes look around the room in confusion and so, she flicks him in the forehead affectionately, "come back to me, froggy."

"Oi! Fuck off!" Jaskier shouts while rubbing the spot on his forehead that was attacked by the vicious little woman in front of him. A chuckle leaves her throat before she's then standing up to stretch out her stiff limbs.

Jaskiers eyes follow her movements as a thought comes across his mind, and his eyebrows furrow. "Where is Geralt?"

The girl hums, "not sure, he scurried off after telling me to wake you up. He said we leave in 10 minutes thought."

He flings the blanket off him to stand up beside her, grabbing his lute in the process.

A few silent minutes pass between the two before the sound of the door opening grabs their attention.

"Oh, finally! I was beginning to think you had abandoned me with the scary woman." Jaskier sings causing Hope to shake her head at his ridiculousness.

Hope notices Geralt roll his eyes as he strides up to her, making her gulp. He thrusts his hand out towards her and that's when she finally notices the fabric in his palm.

"Oh?" She whispers.

He grunts while looking between her and the clothing.

"Put these on, you stand out like a sore thumb with those things on."

She nods her head before reaching out to gently grab them, her fingers softly brushing against his causing electricity to run through the both of them at the contact. It stuns the both of them as they awkwardly stare at each other almost not believing what they had just felt.

"Wow, Geralt. Not once have you bought me garments and I’ve even bathed you for gods sake." They hear Jaskier below in a teasing tone, but with a slight hint of hurt.

"Shut up, Jaskier."

Not much longer after that are the the now trio making their way down the path to where Roach resides. Not once does Hopes eyes stop darting around her surroundings in amazement. She knew of the evil that lurked in this world, but if she had Geralt by her side then she knew she had nothing to fear. So, instead of being scared for what lies ahead of her from now on, she feels excitement and anticipation. Something she hadn’t felt back in her old life before coming here.

Poor Jaskier couldn’t understand how the woman could go from being timid to a bouncing ball of joy the next second. He was beginning to think he might have been right about her being crazy. Though, deep down he was secretly happy to have someone come along for the ride who he could have a conversation with that consisted of more than four words, sometimes even fewer.

Whereas Geralt stays quiet and stoic the whole way as his mind jumbles his thoughts around his brain. He didn’t understand what he was doing, Jaskier was enough of a nuisance to drag along and not to forget that he got into more trouble than he liked. Now he had to worry about the girl of his dreams because she wasn’t just a figment of his imagination anymore and was now by his side as an easy target.

He wanted to turn her away knowing he wasn’t good company for an innocent girl like her, but something inside him just wouldn’t allow it. He would just have to keep her as far away from him as possible in order to protect her, and for some reason that caused a sharp pain to resonate throughout his chest.

That’s just how it had to be even if it meant hurting the both of them in the process. That kind of pain is better than the pain and guilt he’d feel if he lost her because he was selfish.

He’s a Witcher, The Butcher of Blaviken, The White Wolf, and he was sure as hell gonna act like it.

@nikkitc0703 @legendarywizarddetective @kmuir1

#geralt imagine #geralt x oc #geralt z rivii #geralt of rivia #the witcher #jaskier #geralt x reader #geralt fanfic

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ff7-has-taken-me-over · 3 years

Text

I was reading something and had a stray thought occur to me. But what if, at some point on Jaskier’s travels, he had encountered one of the other Witcher’s (I’m saying Coën for the ease of writing this prompt)

But the two meet, Coën doesn’t realise that Jaskier is the same bard that Geralt has been ranting about for the past decade (because Jask gives the man a different name) and Jaskier doesn’t realise that Coën is a Witcher (more because he’s a bit past drunk, drowning his sorrows and was purposefully oblivious to the fact)

Obviously they sleep with one another. Jaskier’s kind of lost in his feelings and using it as somewhat of a distraction, though he can’t deny the attraction of the Witcher even with all the scars, “Adds to the charm.” Jask had told him.

Coën also can’t deny the attraction there, he’s also getting a bit addicted to the way Jaskier doesn’t flinch away from his touch or the way he looks. There’s no scent of fear at any point and the bard makes sure to pay attention to every single point of contact that gets a reaction from him, positive or negative.

When’s all said and done they’re slightly reluctant to part ways but they do, after one more romp in the sheets before going seperate ways.

Then season 2 happens and when everything has calmed down a bit after the final episode Jask and Coën finally look at one another properly. The scent of surprise, shock and joy is sudden and thick in the air, causing everyone else to look between the two.

Coën is the first to break, smile splitting his face as he walks over and pulls the bard into a hug, “It’s good to see you Julian.”

Jask doesn’t even protest or anything, simply pulls the other closer and breathes in the comforting and familiar scent with ease, “You as well Coën. When you said you were a Witcher I didn’t think it was this type of Witcher.”

Coën can’t help the laugh, rolling his eyes and pulling away to give the bard an exasperated look, “Same could be said for you Jules.”

Jask and Coën silently agree to ignore the brooding wolf who’s standing off to the side, instead turning to Lambert and Vesemir with bright smiles. Coën makes the introductions, Jask playing polite even though Lambert had readily disregarded him and Vesemir still looks shaken from everything.

Ves knows there’s something going on here but he’s not going to get involved in his boys problems and he’s still trying to register the losses that just happened under his roof. Instead he looks at all of them and offers a silent nod before looking directly at Jaskier.

“Help me with this bard.” Even if none of his boys end up with the bard he still has to make sure the man is worth keeping around otherwise he’s gonna kick him out first chance he gets.

Jask doesn’t give any protest, instead giving a single nod and following the older man’s moves to help clean up and retrieve any medallions before carefully giving them over. Ves likes him already.

But yeah that’s as far as my thoughts went. Geralt probs gets all jealous and Jask is still really hurt and angry while Coën just hopes he won’t lose Jaskier from his life.

#the witcher #the witcher season 2 #Geralt #Jaskier #Coën #Vesemir #lambert #Jaskier x Coën #Jaskier x Geralt #hurt jaskier #jealous Geralt #hopeful Coën #protective vesemir #dad vesemir #Vesemir protects his sons

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voxmortuus · 3 years

Text

Tension

PAIRING: Geralt of Rivia x Fem!Reader

UNIVERSE: The Witcher

WORDS: 899

SUMMARY/PROMPT: Prompt given from @queengiuliettafirstlady: The reader is a lorialet, and she and Geralt get into a petty argument over a jealous moment. Well, Geralt and the reader go from arguing into some steamy passionate make-up sex.

NOTE: This is part of my Follower Drabble Event. I'm not sure what happened to her ask, it vanished. But I am going to do this for you because I remember the request and I feel so bad!!!

IMAGE CREDIT: Google I DO NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP OF THESE IMAGES. If these are yours or you know who the creator(s) is please INBOX me and let me know. Thank you.

My Master Masterlist | Henry Cavill Masterlist | Taglist

REQUESTS: 500 FOLLOWER EVENT REQUESTS ARE STILL OPEN UNTIL AUGUST 15TH!

"You were flirting, Geralt!" You snap.

"No, I wasn't." He crossed his arms

"Yes, yes you were!"

"I don't flirt. Are you delusional?" He furrows his brow.

"Are you? You were clearly flirting back? You gave her that smirk, Geralt!"

"What smirk?" He gives you the smirk.

"That! That right there! Geralt, you invited her to bathe you!" You snap again.

He gasps. "I did not!"

"Fine, whatever, Geralt. Enjoy your fuckin bath!" You growl as you shove past him walking out of the Inn.

It was a long journey, and honestly, you were so irritated with his choices, his actions.

"Are you insane? Where are you going?!" He growls.

"Away from you! you go take your bath with that harlot!" You growl in return.

"She's hardly a harlot. She's a very nice woman." He defends.

"Right, and so is my mother!"

"You're mother is a monster!" He gasps

"And so is that woman."

"She is not a monster. She's very much not a monster." He licks his lips and gives a smirk.

"There you go! Licking your lips! You've slept with her!"

"No..." He states with a slight inflection.

"No? NO!?" You question growling.

"No." He states a little more firmly.

"Go away, Geralt." You growl and shove him out of the way. You start walking down a dark alleyway behind some shops. The night dark, the moon shining on you. The moon slightly following you as you walked behind this alley, the rays finding you. Your white hair glistened in the light, glowing almost.

You hear footfalls approach you, heavy and almost commanding. "Y/N, Stop!" He growls.

"No, fuck off, Geralt." You sigh as you keep walking.

"Moonbeam-Baby, Stop! NOW!" He approaches you and grabs your arm, and spins you around.

You try to push him away, but he guides you to the wall. Gripping your throat, he pulls you into a kiss. You bite his lip, causing him to bleed. He growls a bit and grabs your face, and kisses you deeply. With the mix of blood and the beer from Geralt, you growl- pressing your hips against his body.

The moon wraps around you both, the rays making a slight sound around you. Geralt presses himself against you. You notice that when you bit him, it made his cock twitch against you. You bite at his lip again, feeling him stiffen against you. You begin to cause a little more pain, pushing him. Slapping him across the face. You manage to shove him away from you and shoving him into the wall and grip his cock on the outside of his pants, and you push on his chest, pushing away from him as you start walking away again.

He growls and follows you into a dark tunnel that was under a bridge. Geralt pins you to the wall and lifts you up, quickly pulling himself out of his pants and ripping your undergarments, and shoving his hard cock into your wet cunt and growls. You growl back at him as he thrusts harder. You grip at his hair as your breathing becomes staggered.

"You're my only." He growls as he thrusts into you.

"Fuck you, Geralt." You moan.

"You are, love me." He demands.

"I do love you. I don't love that you loved others."

"I didn't love her. She was a onetime thing, you, you're a forever thing."

You moan softly as he grips at you. You're pulling at his hair a bit, clawing at his shoulders. Your back arches against the stone wall as you feel him thrust deeper.

"Fuck." You growl.

"You're so tight, so wet."

Your moans pick up a bit more, echoing through the tunnel. You move your hips with Geralt as he pushes up into you faster. Your eyes close as your head rests against the wall. He uses a hand to grip your breast, pinching your nipple through your clothing.

"Oh fuck, Geralt!" You scream.

Growling as he thrusts, he's getting close, but he wasn't ready. This was a spur of the moment, and it was what you both needed. He pulls from you and spins you around, pressing you against the wall as he lifts your hips and shoves himself deeper into you.

Your fingers dig into the wall. Geralt was quick to grab your arms, pulling them behind you in one hand, and takes a fistful of your hair in the other as he pulls you into his cock. Your ass slapping against his hips as he let go of your arms, he spanks your ass hard, so hard it left handprints. Spank after spank, he growls heavier.

"Oh, Geralt. Geralt, FUCK! God! FUCK! Cum inside me! FUCK! Fill me! Breed me! Use me! My body is yours!" You moan and plead.

Hearing your words caused him to go faster, and he growls. Pulling you closer, he thrusts a few more thrusts, and with one hard thrust. He releases inside you, which causes you to release with him screaming, echoing through the night. Pulling from you, he turns you around and grips your face. You put him away back into his pants, tying them back up. He looks deep into your eyes.

"I love you, Y/N. You are forever; she was for then." He reminds you.

You look over his face and nod softly, hugging him tightly. "Don't ever leave."

"Don't ever go." He tells you.

Tagging @thewhitewolfrules

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falcqns · 3 years

Note

Heeey, darling! It's been a while since I requested anything. Well, I was thinking about being Tom Hiddleston's ex-girlfriend but Henry's current one and he became jealous because he saw his girlfriend watching the Loki series and texting him how amazing the show is. Lots of love, B ❤

𝕷𝖔𝖐𝖎

☼ 𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: Henry Cavill x actress!Reader

☼ 𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔨𝔫𝔤𝔰: fluff, insinuations to sub!Henry.

☼ 𝔞/𝔫: GIRL I'VE MISSED YOU AND YOUR REQUEST SO MUCH HADHFJDJFHAKJDKAS!!! this one got me really excited bc ive been on a Tom Hiddleston binge lately and i am in love with him, but still very much in love with henry so im so friggen excited for you to read this lovely i did change it slightly, i hope that's okay!! thank you for the request, and i hope you enjoy!

"please sign this to verify this is everything you've ever said."

you giggled, your eyes locked on the TV. you were watching the first episode of Loki, hours after it came out.

you'd always loved Loki, despite what happened between you and Tom. you two had dated for a few years, but towards the end, he was away filming Thor Ragnarok, and you were filming Justice League, on opposite ends of the world, and it took a toll on your relationship. you two had a lengthy conversation, and it ultimately ended in you two breaking up.

Henry walked into the living room with your coffee's in his hand. he tried not to roll his eyes at the character on the screen aggressively signing his name, and plopped down next to you, as you were texting someone.

"who're you texting?" he asked, handing you your coffee. you smiled, and inhaled the nutty scent of your coffee as you finished composing the text and sent it off.

"Tom. I'm just telling him how much i'm liking the show, and congratulations on its success."

Henry sighed deeply. he knew the two of you were friends, but he didn't like to be reminded of it every two minutes.

"everything okay?" you asked, and Henry nodded his head, his eyes glaring at Loki.

"perfect." you rolled your eyes and dropped your phone onto the couch, before turning to look at your husband.

"are you seriously jealous that i'm texting an ex?" you asked in disbelief, and he shrugged his shoulders.

"you don't see me texting my exes."

you punched your brows. was he being serious??

"what do you call texting Lucy?"

"that's different."

"how so?"

"i don't know, but it's the same." he said, trying to change the subject.

you slapped his arm. "stop quoting Joey Tribbiani. i don't know why your jealous when i literally married your bratty ass." you said turning back to the tv.

Henry sighed, and wrapped his arms around you. "sorry love. i can't help it. i can't deny that he's attractive, and it makes me insecure."

"you don't have to be insecure. you're Geralt of fucking Rivia."

"sorry for being a brat," he admitted, and you smiled.

"it's okay. but next time you act like that, you're getting a spanking."

#henry cavill x reader smut #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavill angst #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x reader fluff #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill smut #henry cavill #tom hiddleston #loki #my fav person ever requested and im so friggen happy ive missed her sm!!

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bethdutten · 2 years

Note

Another geralt angst prompt

Jaskier And the reader are always teasing eachother but one day Jaskier takes it too far and hurts the reader’s feelings and Geralt is lowkey in love with the reader so of course he’s gonna defend her and now Geralt gets into it with Jaskier just to protect his lady

oooo ok lil angry/jealous/possessive/protective geralt?? here for it.

You constantly teased Jaskier, and he did the same to you. It was all done in jest, and it certainly added a bit of amusement to the long journeys you took, when you were lucky to get a hum out of Geralt. He knew you meant well, and you knew Jaskier never intentionally tried to hurt your feelings.

Until he did, albeit unintentionally. You were sitting around the campfire, Geralt across from you poking at the flames and Jaskier beside you, tweaking the strings of his lute and trying not to cry out in exasperation at how you were completely missing the heart-eyes Geralt was making at you, once again.

“You’re really quite dense, you know that?” He muttered, and at first you thought he was talking to himself. Then he turned and met your eyes, raising an eyebrow. “For someone with such intelligence, it amazes me how stupid you can be some times, love.”

You rolled your eyes, bumping his shoulder with yours. “And what stupid thing have I done now?”

You missed the way Geralt’s eyes flickered to your nonchalant touch to Jaskier, brows furrowing.

Jaskier’s eyes narrowed, watching his friend carefully. Ah. So this is how he’s going to have to play it.

He just hoped you would forgive him when you both finally got when you clearly both wanted all thanks to him.

“Back during the fight with the drowner, you imbecile. When you dropped the sword and almost got Geralt’s head cut off?”

“That was my mistake,” Geralt said interjected softly, loud enough for you to hear.

But you kept your eyes on Jaskier, because you had been thinking the same thing for hours and hearing someone else say it cut a little too close. “But he didn’t.”

Jaskier shook his head, playing a few notes. “You’re lucky you’re pretty, my girl. Don’t know why else we would keep you around, all you do is put us in danger and get in the way,” he chuckled, but the sound was immediately cut off with a strangled cry before you even knew was was happened.

Geralt had Jaskier by the throat, held up against the tree he was leaning on. “We keep her around because we need her, her beauty is just a bonus,” he snarled, fangs showing as he tightened his grip and ignored the way Jaskier was pawing at his hand. “Apologize.”

It took you a long second to realize what Geralt was doing, and by then Jaskier was sputtering as he attempted to get air back into his lungs, looking at you with apologetic eyes.

“Geralt, that the fuck is wrong with you? It was a joke! Put me down!” Jaskier’s voice was rough, and he choked out another noise of panic.

Geralt dropped Jaskier as quickly has he had grabbed him, and you knelt beside a wheezing pile of bard as you watched the witcher stalk off into the woods.

“What the fuck?” you hissed, checking Jaskier’s neck and wincing at the angry red imprint of fingers already forming. “Jask, that was such an overreaction, I’m sorr-“

“No, he’s right, I crossed a line,” Jaskier argued, voice slightly hoarse. “I was just trying to provoke him. You know we say these things in jest.”

You frowned, leaning back on your knees. “What do you mean, provoke him?”

Jaskier gave you another one of those looks, and sighed. “Maybe you really are that stupid.”

You smacked his chest, but the question of why that was about Geralt at all took the fire out of it. Why would Geralt care if Jaskier was teasing you? Even if it did hit a little close to home, since when did he care?

Then you recalled how he said we need her and the word beauty thrown in there somewhere.

You reached into your pack and pulled out a small satchel, passing it to Jaskier. “Tea for your throat. Can’t do anything about the bruises, but this should help your pretty little voice in making us some coin by tomorrow.”

Jaskier grumbled a thanks, but you were already up and headed in the direction of where Geralt had left, determined to ask him why he acted that way.

You found him brooding next to a clearing, the moonlight mirrored on his hair and making him look as flawless as any sculpture you’ve ever seen. Approaching carefully, you made a point of stepping over a few twigs to announce your presence despite knowing he would have heard you no matter what. Call him the White Wolf, but he was as skittish as a kitten when he was like this.

“Geralt? What was that?” you asked quietly, coming to sit next to him.

He avoided your eyes, sharp yellow irises focused on the mossy ground as he answered. “He’s not allowed to say those things about you.”

Your mouth dropped open, but you shut it with an audibly snap. “We say those sorts of things to each other all the time, what’s the big deal?”

“The big deal is that if he tells you we don’t want you around often enough you might start to believe it.” His eyes met yours, and his voice was low and harsh, like he was angry at something but he wouldn’t say what.

You flinched slightly, and you saw Geralt immediately soften his features, a hand hesitantly hovering in the arm towards you before he dropped it back to the ground. “Sorry,” he grumbled.

“Then start telling me you want me around,” you whispered, afraid if you spoke any louder some spell that seemed to be locking you two together would break. Was it possible that Geralt felt the same way as you did? He was so stoic, cold even, never betraying how he felt. But the way he snapped at Jaskier… that couldn’t mean something, could it?

Geralt kept his eyes on yours, visibly swallowing as his mouth opened to speak. Your eyes flitted down to his lips for just a moment, and you waited—

He abruptly cleared his throat, standing up. “Doesn’t matter what I want. You can leave whenever.”

You pulled yourself up, frowning. “You want me to go?”

Geralt grunted, heading back to camp. You felt something break inside you, just needing him to say those three fucking works after almost a year of travelling together and still not knowing where he stood with you. I need you. Why was that so hard?

“Geralt!” you called out, rushing to keep up with his rushed steps. “Why can’t you say it? Why can’t you just admit that you—“

“That I what?” he hissed, suddenly turning on his heels and grabbing your arms when you stumbled against him, too close on his tail.

Your hands found their way to his waist, clutching on to the fabric of his shirt as you steadied yourself. You frowned, daring to meet his eyes. “Admit you want me around. That you may actually enjoy my company. That you might…” you paused, biting your lip. That was a sentence only he could finish.

And it looked like he was going to. Geralt’s hands slid from your upper arms to your shoulders, further to stroke up your neck as he carefully cradled your face in his hands. You stopped breathing, unable to take your gaze off those mesmerizing honey eyes as you prepared yourself to finally hear the words you’d been waiting to hear. Because you’d say them back without hesitation.

“You can leave anytime you want. I won’t stop you.”

Then he dropped his hands, turned and headed back towards where the smoke was billowing up from the campfire, and didn’t stop to see the way you crumbled to the ground and wept.

#geralt x reader #henry cavill x reader #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt angst #geralt of rivia imagine #geralt fanfic #geralt of rivia #geralt oneshot

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darkverrmin · 4 years

Text

At some point, Geralt realized he was staring at Jaskier.

Every time they were together.

To be fair, the young man was gorgeous. Geralt wasn't sure if he was attracted to him, or slightly jealous.

The Witcher studied the bard's face and hair. Jaskier's hair looked soft and it turned golden in the sunlight, falling perfectly over his eyes. He had a beautiful face and a radiating smile. No wonder people loved him, Geralt thought. His eyes were a deep blue color, and it was impossible not to get lost in them.

Geralt hated when Jaskier stared at him sometimes, trying to make him talk about what's bothering him. It was making him feel weird things in his chest.

Jaskier's body wasn't a different story. The man looked stunning with clothes and without. Whenever he was wearing one of his ridiculous outfits, Geralt couldn't help but notice how Jaskier looked good in every color. The puffy shirts and the high waisted pants made the bard look thin and fragile. Which was a total lie, Geralt thought, once he saw Jaskier fully naked for the first time.

They passed by a stream. Jaskier dropped his bag to the ground and announced ceremoniously that he's going to bathe. He warmly advised Geralt to do the same, receiving a "fuck you" in response.

While Geralt was feeding Roach, Jaskier shed all his clothes and walked into the water. He hissed from the cold and Geralt turned his head to look at him. He froze. Geralt never imagined Jaskier had such strong arms and legs. Broad shoulders. The man had so much hair on him, but his skin still looked so, so soft. No ugly scars covering his body. He looked so young and beautiful, like he walked straight out of a fairytale.

Suddenly Geralt felt very self conscious of his own body. His eyes traveled below Jaskier’s waist and he quickly looked away, exhaling sharply.

What was going on?

Geralt stripped quickly and bathed in silence. He didn’t glance at Jaskier once.

***

They set camp for the night and Geralt cooked them something to eat.

Jaskier was strumming his lute absent-mindedly, staring at Geralt as he worked.

Geralt paused brewing his potion, shooting Jaskier a glare. "What?".

Jaskier shrugged. "Nothing. Can't a man stare at his friend?". He shifted in his seat, strumming another chord. "Especially a gorgeous one." He added under his breath.

Geralt blinked at him. "What?".

Jaskier met his stare, looking confused. "What?"

"Did you... Did you just call me-".

Jaskier laughed in response. "Oh, c'mon. I'm not boosting your ego any more that's necessary. As if you can't see for yourself".

Geralt blinked again. "I don't understa-".

"Geralt-" Jaskier cut him off. "Stop".

"Jaskier, you're starting to piss me of-".

"Fuck, okay. It's just- you look amazing, alright? Anyone with eyes can see that. Everything about you, your hair, your eyes, your body- You- You're beautiful. I sometimes stare at you and I don't know if I'm admiring what I'm seeing or I'm just jealous".

Geralt raised his eyebrows. "Jealous? Of me?".

Jaskier rolled his eyes. "Yes. Please don't take this the wrong way, okay? I just- Um. What are you doing?".

Geralt put his potion ingredients aside and took a seat beside Jaskier. Fumbling with his hands, he eventually settled on taking Jaskier’s hand in his and cradling it in his lap. Jaskier gaped at him.

"Um," Geralt cleared his throat quietly. "I think I need to talk you about something".

#the witcher #geraskier #jaskier #geralt of rivia #witcher #geralt x jaskier #geralt/jaskier #witcher netflix #geralt the witcher #julian alfred pankratz #geralt x julian #geralt

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bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher · 4 years

Text

Take Me, I’m Yours

(the highest voted options on the poll were ‘Geralt rescues Jaskier from trouble’ and ‘Jaskier riles the Captain up in public’ so I teamed up with the ever-marvelous, stupendously talented @limrx to bring you this Swashbuckling AU oneshot/art piece featuring a horribly jealous Geralt and a frisky, flirty Jaskier)

------------------------

“Do you think he likes me back?” Jaskier asked. He leaned over the ship’s railing to look more closely at the dolphin following behind them. Lambert didn’t think he’d fall overboard but it would be kind of funny if he did. The strange young nobleman did have a way of always landing on his feet, though.

“I know he does.”

“Well how come he hasn’t told me anything about it, then?”

“You’ve met the Captain, right? About this tall, long white hair, weird yellow eyes, emotionally incompetant?”

“You have a good point. Should I just confront him about it?”

“Yeah, sure.” Lambert rolled his eyes before shooting Jaskier a pointed look. “If you want to send your ransom note back to Lettenhove the following morning.”

“Fuck. I just want to kiss him, Lambert. Regularly. I want to know if he snores or not. I want to lay on the deck beneath the stars and talk to him like we’re friends and not just pirate and pseudo-pirate-captive. I really want to see what his ass looks like under those godsforsaken trousers, Lambert, it’s killing me not knowing.”

“You’re more insatiable than a siren during the rainy season,” the second mate teased. “But with fewer teeth.”

“Shut up.”

“Are you going ashore when we lay anchor?”

“Am I allowed?”

“I assume you’ll be allowed. You’re practically part of the crew. You’ve been aboard for nearly two weeks and you’ve pulled your fair share of the weight, if not moreso.”

“Why thank you, Lambert. I appreciate you noticing.”

“Of course, Jaskier. You may be an utter fool and a fop to boot, but at least you’re a hard worker.”

“Asshole.”

“Mhm.”

They both watched the dolphins for a minute in silence before Jaskier’s face split into the most heinous and dastardly grin. It filled Lambert with an unmistakable sense of fear and worry. “I have a brilliant idea. I know how to get Geralt to admit his feelings.”

“No, absolutely not. I am not getting roped into this, you horrible little minx. Don’t give me that look! I won’t help you this time!”

“But Lamby-bert,” Jaskier whined. “If he has someone to take all his frustrations out on in bed then I’m sure it’ll be easier to negotiate for higher shares next time we take a vessel.”

Lambert did not miss the fact that Jaskier said ‘we’ when referring to the crew. The second mate knew the little nobleman was here to stay; it had been clear that Jaskier would be sticking around from the moment Geralt first laid eyes (and hands) on him. The Captain hadn’t stopped looking out for the lad since. Lambert wasn’t even going to think about that singular flirty kiss atop the mainmast nearly a week and a half ago. Geralt had been pining after the acrobatic little idiot ever since and making absolutely no move to flirt back. It was driving the crew absolutely crazy. “Alright, you devilish siren. I’m in.”

----------------------------------------

Jaskier cleaned up nice.

And he deserved to clean up nice. He’d worked hard to put this outfit together. Billy had lent him a pair of dark blue breeches in return for Jaskier’s help with mending the mainsail. The shirt he was wearing was half a size too big, which was exactly big enough for the neckline to plunge even lower than he usually wore it. This way it revealed more of his toned (and rather hirsute) chest. He’d borrowed it from Starkey, who was the same height as him but who had much broader shoulders.

The Captain was going to absolutely die when he saw Jaskier.

He whistled a rather naughty shanty as he exited the bunk room and made his way towards the gangplank where Starkey, Lambert, and Eskel were waiting for him. He spun in a quick circle, arms out to show off his clothes. Lambert and Starkey whistled appreciatively and Eskel hid his face in the palm of his hand. “Ready, boys?”

“Absolutely not,” Starkey smiled. The first mate standing next to him tilted his head back to look at the sky, sighing deeply.

“Are you sure about this? What if the Captain tries to kill Lambert?”

“He won’t be killing anyone. Hopefully. If he does run his sword through anyone, it will most likely be me,” Jaskier joked. “Now, this is my first time drinking with real pirates. Anything I should know?”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Eskel suggested. Lambert bit back a laugh and Starkey snorted.

“Impossible.”

“Well then, let’s go.”

The four men made their way down onto the docks and through the sparse crowd of sailors and merchants still mingling in the evening light. Starkey led them to a decent tavern and found a vacant corner table, which gave them an excellent view of the door.

Geralt and Starkey had spent the morning selling their stolen cargo to various merchants, shopkeepers, and artisans. The Captain had divided up the gold between his crew according to their various contracts and Jaskier, more as a jest than anything else, was given two crowns as well. “For not dying,” Geralt had intoned seriously. The men were amused but Jaskier’s face had gone bright red with embarrassment. The young noble had talked them out of trouble with the Skelligan patrols twice last week and Geralt was repaying him with public humiliation? Lambert knew that the Captain’s earlier actions were about to make this evening a lot more entertaining (if slightly uncomfortable) and he was ready to get this show on the road. He flung an arm around Jaskier’s waist and ordered them all a round of ales.

“So everyone knows what the general goal here is, right?” Jaskier clarified.

“Yes,” Eskel nodded. “You’re using Geralt’s jealous nature to make him act on his less than subtle feelings for you.”

“Correct. Wonderful.”

Lambert squeezed the noble’s hip through his borrowed pants and Jaskier huffed indignantly in reply. Starkey chuckled softly at their antics and winked at the barmaid when she brought them their drinks. “Can’t wait, really. It’s been so boring lately and the last two ships we took didn’t even fight back. This is drama. This is entertainment!”

“Shut up, Starkey,” Jaskier pouted. He leaned back into Lambert’s embrace and gulped down half his ale.

“Slow down, kid,” the first mate teased. “Or you will be drunk when he gets here and your plan won’t work.”

“I need to get the pink in my cheeks or I’ll look suspicious,” Jaskier argued. “One ale should do it without getting me tipsy. Maybe two if it’s weak.”

“Method actors,” Lambert rolled his eyes.

Jaskier was sipping slowly at his second ale and the other three pirates were on their fourth or fifth when Geralt finally came barreling through the tavern door. “There you are!” Eskel shouted, waving the Captain over. Nobody missed the barely-hidden glare Geralt aimed at Lambert’s arm where it rested against the nobleman’s lower back.

“Captain,” the second mate nodded.

“Lambert. Eskel. Starkey.” Geralt greeted them all in turn.

“Heyyyy,” Jaskier whined, leaning forward against the edge of the table and pouting. “What about me, sir?”

“You.”

“Rude,” the brunette huffed. Lambert ran a lazy hand up and down his spine and Jaskier watched as Geralt’s eyes narrowed into slits. He sighed sadly and melodramatically into his mug and nodded once in the second mate’s direction. “Thank you, darling. At least someone in this crew likes me.”

Starkey saw Geralt’s eyelid twitch and slid Eskel two crowns under the table to settle their bet. He thought the vein on their Captain’s throat would show up before the eyelid went, but it must have been the first mate’s lucky night this time around. “Hey Eskel, let’s see if any of the lovely ladies here want to dance with us, eh?”

“You coming, Captain?” Eskel asked. “Seems like Jaskier and Lambert are a bit busy.”

“Yes, Geralt,” Jaskier egged him on. The Captain had a white-knuckled grip on the handle of his mug. The noble took a long swig of ale and licked a bit of foam from his lip when he was finished, noting the way Geralt’s eyes locked onto his mouth. “Why not go dance with a pretty lady. Certainly nobody else has your attention.”

The pirate Captain finally snapped. He slammed his mug down and reached around the table to grab Jaskier around the waist. He hauled him out of the second mate’s grip and onto his feet. “Captain, what are yo-”

“Yer coming with me, siren,” Geralt snarled. Lambert relinquished the nobleman with very little fuss, winking at Jaskier as the pirate Captain swung him up and over his broad shoulder. The young man flashed all three of his co-conspirators a thumbs up as he was carried out of the tavern like a sack of potatoes.

“A little rude to Lambert, don’t you think, sir?” he asked, resting his elbow against Geralt’s shoulder blade and settling his chin onto his hand. He crossed his ankles to make it easier for the pirate to balance his weight comfortably. “But they’ll be happy to know that our little plan worked out.”

Geralt stopped in his tracks but did not set his captive down. “Your what?”

“Our plan,” Jaskier explained as if bored. “To get you to finally do something about all this sexual tension between us. I kissed you on the mouth for fuck’s sake.”

“I thought it was an accident.”

“Oh, and saving you from hanging at the hands of some Skelligan officers, was that an accident? Not sending a ransom note last time we stopped for water and not turning you in for the reward in Novigrad, were those accidents too? There is a hefty bounty on your head, White Wolf, and I could be living independently in a castle somewhere right now except that I happen to find you endlessly attractive and fascinating.”

“Hmm.” Geralt resumed walking. Jaskier noticed with a smirk that his pace had picked up quite a bit. As if he was suddenly in a hurry to be somewhere.

“Hum dismissively all you like, sir, but you’re still carrying me back to your cabin to ravish me senseless, are you not?”

“Ravish may be the wrong word for what I’d like to do to you, but you do look rather tempting.”

“Thank you. I put a lot of effort into this ensemble.”

“You’re a calculating little nymph, aren’t you?”

“No, of course not. I only managed to secure a bunk aboard the Kaer Morhen and wrap its infamous captain around my finger in less than a month. I am but a silly nobleman with excellent dexterity and a penchant for climbing.”

“Lambert was right to call you a minx.”

“He does love that nickname.”

“It’s not an endearment.”

“Whatever.” The ground shifted and Jaskier knew they were making their way up the gangplank and back onto the ship. This was the part he’d been waiting for! Geralt kicked in his cabin door and stepped inside, turning to close and lock it behind them. Jaskier wriggled impatiently. “Set me down!”

“Hmm, no. I rather like the view from here.”

“Excuse me?”

Geralt gave him a gentle smack on the ass, almost a pat really, and huffed out a laugh at Jaskier’s offended noise. “You’ve been an awful lot of trouble for a nobleman and a captive.”

“I’m barely a captive, Geralt. Give it up already.”

“You haven’t signed the book.” He set Jaskier back on his feet and looped his arms around the younger man’s waist to pull him close. “You’re still a captive until you swear on the book and sign your name next to the others. Then you’ll be part of my crew.”

“I have yet to negotiate for my shares,” the brunette stated. He tilted his chin back, baring his neck slightly and offering Geralt his ale-damp lips. “Ten crowns after every capture and I get to sleep in here with you. That sounds fair.”

“You’re a good worker. Seven crowns, you can sleep in here with me, and you can borrow my bandannas whenever you want.”

“Even the red one?”

“Especially the red one.”

Jaskier’s soft pink mouth brushed against the pirate’s as he murmured his answer: “Deal.”

Geralt’s lips crashed against Jaskier’s with the strength of a wave hitting the side of his ship in a maelstrom. The Captain’s mouth was so warm and his lips moved against the younger man’s with almost frightening determination. As if he was trying to prove himself. His arms were strong around the nobleman’s lower back and his white hair brushed deliciously against the skin of Jaskier’s neck.

“You’ve bewitched me, body and soul.”

“Oh, Geralt,” the younger man sighed, opening his mouth to let the other in. I never thought the word ‘plunder’ could apply to kissing but here I stand, corrected by experience yet again. The White Wolf of the Seven Seas pulled away, made breathless by a young and foolish nobleman in search of adventure.

“I’m not a siren, you know. Not even a little. My family’s estate is landlocked.”

Geralt’s fingers rose from his waist and brushed against his cheekbone reverently. Those amber eyes, so cold and focused when he shouted orders or intimidated a merchant captain, were looking down at Jaskier with such devoted tenderness. The ex-noble felt his heart fill anew and double in size. There wasn’t enough room in his body to hold all of this feeling.

“Kiss me again, Captain. Take me to bed.”

“You’re too good at tempting me. You must be evil.”

“I assure you,” Jaskier smirked, ripping Geralt’s shirt over his head in one smooth movement. “I am.”

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