#I think that's why Jaskier knows he won't be able to talk Geralt out of doing a job for hubby even if they suspect it will end shitty

[spielzeugkaiser]

[MASTERPOST]

I did it, ahhh. This took me longer than I anticipated! But they deserve a break before things go down the drain again.

Prompts under the cut:

I had a wonderful ask about 'Jaskier fiercely trying to comfort Geralt right back.' and I wanted to include that bit. Jaskier really tries.

'How do other people see Geralt in this AU' really interesting thought! It highly depends, I think he is seen in a somewhat positive light by some of the staff, but not by all.

ROACH

Jaskier singing 'Toss a Coin' - with others near it would probably not the best thing for their cover, but if they are on their own... I don't think Jaskier feels like it, but back to the first point - he tries to make things a bit lighter.

also for everyone who asked for a break for those two - you are right!!

What also needs to be said: Geralt is the only person who can playfully display even some minor acts that could be interpreted as aggression (like shoving Jaskier on the last panel) - everyone else and this would be waaaaay different. I don't think either of them realised that yet. Last note: Thank you all for your lovely prompts!! It feels like a guilty pleasure sometimes but AHh, this is really my favourite AU to draw for.

[yellowspiralbound]

Since season 3 of The Witcher Netflix comes out tomorrow...here are some of my concerns on adaptation from this season onward. Potential spoilers for the future seasons and definite spoilers for the books. Long post ahead.

The Hansa's Dynamic

I am so worried about how the Hansa is going to be handled in the show. Like shaking in my boots terrified. The showrunners already really messed up Dandelion & Geralt's dynamic...and that's one of the easier dynamics present in the Hansa imo. The dynamic is already going to be screwy because Cahir is a middle aged man and not a petulant teenager if he's present in the Hansa at all (though I think he will be since Emhyr called him and Fringilla out at the end of s2).

Emhyr as a Character

Speaking of Emhyr...I think they might attempt to give him a redemption arc, and I cannot emphasize how bad of an idea that is. They're going to retcon the whole "wanting to impregnate Ciri" bit, which I have mixed feelings on. Like yes, on one hand that's fucking gross but on the other hand, that bit is in there to show how fucked up Emhyr is and why Geralt needs to get to Ciri so quickly; it adds a sense of urgency to the Hansa's travels. If I see Emhyr sympathizers on my dash after this season I will lose my fucking mind.

Milva's Pregnancy & Related Scenes

I suspect that Milva's pregnancy is going to be cut entirely or play up the rest of the Hansa's concern for her as a weird "men think they can control women's bodies" thing which Milva will have to fight with them about so the show can be appropriately pro-choice without exploring any of the pro-choice nuance the books bring up. I can just see Regis talking to the guys about it being turned into a "the father deserves a say in a woman's choice to abort" scenario instead of the "I will give this woman her abortion regardless of what you all think about that (and I've made that VERY clear) but I think she's making this choice because she believes you all will abandon her/not support her if she wants to keep this baby and someone needs to make sure that she knows that won't happen" scenario that it actually is. This is also plays into my concerns about the Hansa's dynamic as changing that scene changes it irreparably.

Characterizing Nilfgaard as a Nation

Right now I feel like the show could go one of two ways 1) Nilfgaard is wrong in everything it does or 2) Nilfgaard is right in everything it does (if Emhyr gets a redemption arc). The show has already made a show of the Northern Realms' racism, which is book accurate mind you, but I fear this will translate to a sort of "Nilfgaard is the better nation as its less racist" scenario. While Nilfgaard is better in that aspect and a few others, it is still a militant slave nation. Nilfgaard and the Northern Realms both have their evils and their virtues; that's a big point in the books and the games. Neither nation is 100% good or 100% bad - they're just nations. I don't think the show will be able to handle that kind of nuance.

Jaskier & Radovid...

Apparently, Radovid is supposed to be one of Jask's love interests this season. Radovid is a massive racist, a war criminal, and a teenager. I'm sure all of that's going to be retconned but for fuck's sake just make a new character if you're going to age up and completely change the personality and insanity of an existing one. Important note: I am 1000% in support of queer Jask. I have never shipped that man with a woman in my life (even in the books and games) but for the love of God why did his LI have to be fucking RADOVID??

Mistle & the Rats

If they make Ciri and Mistle a love story, I am going to be disappointed but not surprised. Let me be clear: Mistle is a rapist and an abuser. I suspect they will change that to shoehorn in a queer relationship (even though Triss and Philippa are RIGHT THERE if they want a semi-canon wlw couple). The Rats as a whole are definitely going to be made into more robinhood-like characters because God forbid a main character like Ciri is morally grey or does questionable/bad things.

Geralt's Disability

If this season ends with the Vilgefortz and Geralt fight, as I suspect it might, Geralt will be disabled permanently by the end of this season. The dryads do not fix it. Magic does not fix it. Geralt becomes disabled and stays disabled. His disability becomes a hindrance during the books and the reader actively sees him grapple with the fallout of this. I do not trust this show to handle that - especially with how much more closed off Geralt is in the show compared to the books. If I had to guess, Geralt's disability will be handwaved away or mentioned in passing and never actually shown to impact him which is not cool.

[thenightling]

A rant against some not-so-great Witcher fans...

The behavior I've seen from some Witcher (book) fans lately does NOT make me proud to usually be a book purist. And no, I'm not talking about the ones who are upset that Jaskier is being shipped with an aged-up Radovid. ( I understand the concern there but you know it's just for plot angst.)

I'm seeing blatant homophobia and sometimes out-right biphobia, including videos of "book fans" who won't even use the term bisexual. They claim Jaskier was "made gay for woke points" by Netflix. Some of the nicer comments I've seen include: "But he's slept with lots of women!" And "But I wanted to see him with Prescilla" (even though she was a creation of the video games and Netflix has no rights to her...) "This means he can't be with Precscilla." ...I can't help but feel these people don't know what bisexual means... They didn't seem to think he couldn't be with Priscilla when they mentioned other woman lovers. I'm still in awe that there are people who claim there's nothing bi about Jaskier (AKA Buttercup AKA Dandelion) in the Netflix show. And again this is not about who he hooks up with. I've seen comments on Facebook of "This is why Henry Cavill left. He's tired of the f-- sh-t." and similar statements. Last year I came across some Witcher book fans who insisted Ciri can never be a "True" Witcher (even in the games where that is an ending) because "only a man can be a true Witcher!" and "The method for making REAL Witchers was lost. It's important to the canon that no woman ever be a Witcher!" And now it's "They're ruining Dandelion!" and "There's no hint that Jaskier was ever gay!" Excuse me... Please read these lyrics to the song he wrote when Geralt left him on the side on the mountain. And as if those lyrics aren't obvious enough Yennefer actually confronts him on the song being about Geralt.

For people who just "love the original books" I'm seeing blatant sexism and homophobia / biphobia in your midst and it's starting to make me ashamed and distrusting of other book fans. You can't convince me statements of "They've ruined Jaskier by making him queer!" are purely because of who his love interest is going to be next season.

And so many "No wonder Henry Cavill left!" Actually, there has been NO official statement about why Henry Cavill is leaving the show, just a lot of fan speculation (Though yes, some of it is reasonable as he was a fan of the books). He is extremely busy though with the Warhammer franchise, and there's a rumor he might have a Sherlock spin-off and some other things in the works. Just know that when people try to insist how "Straight" Jaskier was portrayed these last two seasons (and spin-off prequel series) and go on long tangents about why Ciri can never be a Witcher... Try to consider they might not be "trying to protect the integrity" of the series after all. I've seen behavior like this before and it's never really about protecting the stories. Here's a hint. I'll use my own dislike of the Interview With the Vampire TV series for comparison. If the person complains that "(this character) would never harm (this other character here)" you may want to listen. The story might matter to them. (This goes for Yennefer and Ciri and Lestat and Louis of Interview with The vampire). However if the complaint has to do with race (i.e. whining about Louis being played by a black man in Interview with the vampire), or sexuality... chances are it's not really about the story at all.

I've seen rants about how straight Jaskier "used to be" and I can't help but wonder if those people were able to keep a straight face (ha!) while writing it. It would be funny if they weren't serious. Honestly these ARE the same sort of people who used to insist Xena and Gabrielle were straight, or that Louis in interview With the Vampire was straight, or that John Constantine in the Hellblazer comics was straight (and those still existed until relatively recently.)

[veryace-ficrecs]

Hey! Could you do another daemon rec list? Your other list got me in the mood

Absolutly! d=====(￣▽￣*)b

More Daemon Fic Recs

This list will include all ratings and tags, so read at your own discretion! :)

Star Trek

Ni'Var by WerewolvesAreReal - Rated G

Humans have daemons. Vulcans have katras. Spock, born of both, has neither. Which he's fine with. Really. Meanwhile, James Kirk is a little curious about this whole daemon business, because how the hell can he have two souls - ?

a resilient touch by kurgaya - Rated T

Jim’s daemon used to be a wolf and Leonard’s not sure how he feels about that. Used to be. [STID Missing Scenes - Jim sleeps. Leonard worries. Someone unexpected talks some sense into them both].

Daredevil

Down to the Bone by SpiritsFlame - Rated G

Everyone always wants to know why his daemon isn't a bat. As though being blind is all that there is to him, the center point of his character.

Spiderman

of things unknown (but longed for still) by aloneintherain - Rated T

Peter Parker can’t walk around with the same daemon as Spider-Man. But she’s going to settle one day, and there’s nothing he can do about it.

The Witcher

Two Halves of a Whole by penguistifical - Rated G

Geralt doesn’t take much notice at first when the small brown bird alights on his table.

one for sorrow by Emamel - Rated T

There were other rumours, older and more persistent, that Jaskier hadn't been able to make a dent in. Witchers don't have souls. Witchers are no better than beasts. How could they be civilised, intelligent, compassionate, human, when they don't even have daemons. What was Jaskier supposed to do about that?

interconnected strand to strand by Hirikka - Rated G

Turns out Jaskier isn't the first person who loves Geralt to be driven away by the witcher. After The Mountain, Jaskier is found by Geralt's daemon. They adopt each other.

The Adventure Zone

a thousand points of no return by anonymousAlchemist - Rated T

Since wizard's daemons often settle as birds and urban legend says that elves are separated from their daemons, no one looks too closely at the fact that Taako and Lup are both single entities, missing the other halves of their hearts. They walk like people, they talk like people, and if they're hard to read because their daemons aren't fluffing up their feathers or swatting playfully with their paws, well, elves are notoriously enigmatic anyway. This lasts until their first death. All deaths on the Starblaster are strange. When Magnus first died on the animal planet, I'morko followed right after, both of their bodies dissipating into golden sparks, a strange inversion of the natural order. The pattern holds. Year after year, person and daemon alike dissipate into a fine mist of dust, knit together by the bond engine in the new plane. During their fifteenth year, Taako is shot through the heart with a well-aimed magic missile. Lup screams and casts one last firebolt, spell-sculpting around their bodies, before unspooling into a fine golden sand.

Yuri on Ice

hollow ground by Piyo13 - Rated T

There's no rules regarding where a daemon has to be in relation to their skater, only that they aren't allowed on the ice. This has always seemed a little unfair to Yuuri. After all, he loves skating like he loves his own soul; why can't he have both?

Batman

I know you won't leave by Speechless_since_1998 - Rated G

Jason was thirteen, adopted for over a year, and he was at his first gala. He expected the rich snobs who looked down on him, judging his daemon. What he didn't expect was to find a child hiding as his daemon took shape. Nor that Ace would adopt him.

everything you lose is a step you take by oceanofchaos - Rated T

“Tim,” she says, hesitant in a way that she never is, not when it’s just the two of them, “About settling.” Thirteen is hardly unreasonable to be unsettled, but rare given their night activities, and Tim’s been thinking hard about what Hestia will choose. “I don’t think I want to settle,” she says quietly, interrupting his train of thought, “Maybe not ever.” “Okay,” replies Tim, stroking a careful finger over her soft brown snout, “Not if you don’t want to.” ------------ Dæmon AU, the life and times of Tim Drake and his dæmon Hestia, before, during, and after Robin.

Fullmetal Alchemist

the lives of wild animals by ohmytheon - Rated G

military - but what people don't realize is that his daemon is just as wild as Mustang's in the end.

In the Shape of a Soul by redketchup - Rated T

Ed says, “Stupid Colonel Bastard.” “Brother, what are you thinking?” Alphonse asks evenly, which is his way of saying, Please, for the love of god, brother, the colonel is not responsible for every terrible thing, but hey, it ends up Alphonse is still loyal to his big brother, because he also adds, “I’m surprised he didn’t make an effort to call us. It sounds like something we could help with. Maybe the first lieutenant has been out recently.” Which conveys how little faith Alphonse actually has in Mustang when he acts outside Riza Hawkeye’s influence.

East City has a new string of murders and, much to a young alchemist's annoyance, his superior officer insists that the Fullmetal Alchemist's expertise is not needed. This leads to more trouble than anyone would expect.

talents of the souls by ohmytheon - Rated G

Edward's hand shakes as he draws the soul bonding transmutation circle on the inside of the armor. Alethea has to hold his arm up to keep him steady. “I won’t let you take them!” Ed screams. “Take my arm, take my heart, take my soul!” Alethea cries out as she buries her face into his stomach. He can’t feel her. He almost gets sick. Oh, god, why can’t he feel her? (Or, Fullmetal Alchemist with daemons, focusing on Edward, Alphonse, and human transmutation. Companion piece to "rummaging in our souls", which focuses on Roy and Riza.)

[yeraskier]

can i ask for "friends kiss each other all the time, right?" 🌻

this was also requested by @clementinecrane

—

If one were to ask Jaskier what compelled him to do it, he wouldn't be able to give them a real answer.

He doesn't know what drove the decision to kiss his best friend of three years out of the blue after he's spent three years successfully fighting the urge, and yet, here they are.

Jaskier's lips are on Geralt's, moving. Geralt's lips are on Jaskier's, not moving.

He realizes what he's doing a few seconds in but it's far too late, the damage has already been done.

Jaskier pulls away from his best friend like they've both just been set on fire.

Geralt blinks.

Jaskier blinks back. Then comes the inevitable train of random words to save his ass.

"Wow, I have no idea why I just did that." You were just sitting there, looking so very cute while rambling on about the new Batman movie. "I mean, it came out of nowhere, right?" It's not like I've been thinking about doing this since I've met you or anything. "That was so not expected, holy shit. I am very, very sorry. And I'd like us to forget that this ever happened. Can we do that?"

Geralt says nothing. He just blinks some more. Very helpful.

Jaskier chuckles. Very nervously.

"I mean, friends kiss each other all the time, right?" He offers. It’s stupid, he knows, but he has to say something.

And that's when his best friend decides to speak, "no."

He's been trying not to panic since he kissed Geralt, but now he's definitely panicking. Mentally, of course. He doesn't think outward panic would help the situation much right now.

"Unless they want to be more than friends," Geralt drawls, breaking through the pessimistic pit of doom that is Jaskier's current thoughts.

"What?"

"Friends don't kiss unless they want to be more than friends," Geralt clarifies, and at Jaskier's silence, he continues. "Is that what you want?"

And like a complete dumbass, all Jaskier can say is, "what?"

Geralt looks like he wants to roll his eyes. He doesn't. "To be more than friends, is that what you want?"

Yes, Jaskier’s brain supplies rather loudly. Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! A billion times yes!

What comes out is… absolutely nothing. Because Jaskier is too stunned to speak.

And then Geralt uses that voice and goes, "Julian."

Unsurprisingly, that's all it takes for Jaskier to come clean. "Yes! Okay? Yes, I want to be more than friends. It's all I've wanted for just about the entire duration of our friendship and I'm sorry, alright? I tried to ignore it and I've mostly succeeded but now I've gone ahead and kissed you and I've made things awkward with all my very intense feelings. You probably don't even want to be friends anymore—”

"I don't," Geralt tells him.

A part of saw that coming. Of course, he had hope that maybe three years of friendship would've been enough for Geralt to simply look past this minor discretion. He was wrong.

"Right… of course," he says, trying his best to not make it blatantly obvious that his heart is being ripped from his chest. Jaskier's ninety-five percent sure he fails. "I understand. I'll just—”

"Jaskier," Geralt utters. He sounds pitying and sad.

"It's alright, Geralt, really." It's not. He's losing his best friend and possible soulmate and the definite love of his life. It's not okay, he's not okay, but he'd be even less okay with Geralt feeling guilty for not wanting him back.

"What's okay?" His best friend questions.

"You not wanting me, it's alright. I completely understand and I—”

"Jaskier."

"...won't be a dick about any of this. I can accept it, I promise."

"Jaskier," Geralt says with more force.

"Geralt seriously, it's—”

Suddenly he's being pulled— no, yanked, closer to his best friend. They're so close they may as well be one.

"If you keep telling me it's okay, I will punch you in the gut." Geralt warns with narrowed eyes and a strong grip on Jaskier's bicep. "Now stop talking and kiss me."

"I… what?" Gods, he really needs to stop saying that.

"Shut up," Geralt takes one step forward, effectively ridding the distance between them, "and kiss me."

The final words send a light gust of air over Jaskier's lips like a seal to an invitation.

What else is he to do now?

Jaskier kisses Geralt, and this time, Geralt kisses back.

It’s the best kiss he’s ever had in all his years. All it took was three years of pining and a near heart attack, but here they are.

Jaskier’s learned today that friends do not kiss each other all the time, which is a bummer, really.

But he no longer has to worry about that, because his best friend is no longer just his friend.

Though, Geralt never was just a friend, was he?

After all, a definite soulmate and the definite love of his life could never be just a friend.

[inber]

Need or Want

A/N: I wanted to write some more headcanon of Yen’s experience at Kaer Morhen, a couple of weeks after the fight in episode eight. I suppose this drabble could follow along with the other two I’ve already written. Spoilers for season two, no real warnings. Some Yennskier feels. I allowed Geralt to be in this one, but he's still on thin ice. 1.8k.

It's a true pleasure to be able to use her magic again. Yennefer had restrained herself from using it frivolously for a week—partly out of reverence, and partly out of fear. What if she drew too deeply from the well of herself? What if the bucket came up empty again?

The small things return to her more out of instinct than purpose; the way she refills her inkwell with an absent flick of her finger, or the conjuring of a new pair of socks because Cirilla's are close to having holes worn in them. Maybe it's the shy smile of thanks she receives. The wriggle of Ciri's warm toes. Whatever the cause, Yennefer's caution ebbs. She allows herself indulgences once more.

She patches the crack in the wall of her chosen room. No longer will she suffer a lumpy straw-stuffed mattress; it is replaced with decadent downy feathers and luxuriously knitted linens. Her fingers run over the furs on the end of her bed. Jaskier had brought them to her some days ago, concerned for her health. Absently, Yennefer smiles, and leaves them where they are.

More candles for her writing desk. More parchment. A small mirror by her wash-basin, which she also wove into existence. The witchers could do as they pleased, but she would maintain a regimen of hygiene. As would Cirilla.

It would be easier to push down the reasons why her nesting feels so lavish. Yennefer knows it all comes at a cost. Not just one she's paid herself; were that the case, there might be no need for introspection.

Carefully, she sculpts a crystal vase onto the desk with her clever fingers, running veins of gold through the intricate material. Along the rim on the glass, she inscribes in Elder: 'Ire lokke, ire tedd. Squass'me.'

“Another place, another time. Forgive me.” Yennefer whispers the words. From the mouth of the vase, peonies bloom, eternal and fragrant. She thinks of the young, feisty boy in the sewers. Of the Elven man that had accompanied him.

Triss used to say that speaking the names of the dead meant that they would live forever.

“Dermain. Ba'lian.” Yennefer touches one of the petals. It shimmers ever-so slightly.

“Who are you talking to?” Geralt's voice is unmistakable on the other side of her closed door. In her concentration, she'd not heard his arrival. Then again, he was likely to employ a softer footfall around her. She felt as if he was waiting to catch her stirring a bubbling cauldron conveniently labelled 'Ciri Soup'.

“Myself.” Yennefer says, rising to open the latch. Geralt won't let himself in. She knows this. “Is there something I can help you with?”

Geralt glances over her shoulder at the changes made to her room. For a moment, she thinks he's going to make a comment about what he must perceive as irresponsible hedonism. She dares him to with her steady violet gaze. Instead, he exhales sharply through his nose.

“Training with Ciri--”

“--At six o'clock, in the alchemy lab, after supper.”

Geralt frowns. “Don't read my mind.”

“How presumptuous,” Yennefer says, “I hardly need to. Have I been late to a lesson yet?”

“No.”

“Ciri came and got me last night, actually. A half-hour early. It was quite sweet.”

Yennefer knows she's prodding at a sore wound, but she cannot help it. How can he not see that she'd give the entire world as she knows it to that girl, if she asked? How is he still so blind?

Geralt grunts at the admission, but doesn't take the bait. Undoubtedly he'd seen them enter the lab together the night before, watching from the shadows. The weight of his gaze is impossible to escape.

“Are you taking supper alone?” Geralt asks, instead.

“Has Lambert learned to chew with his mouth closed?”

He almost smiles; it's a feather-brush on his lips, and then it is gone. “No.”

“Then no, thank you. I will take care of myself.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

Geralt moves to leave. He pauses awkwardly in the doorway, clearly working something through his mind. Yennefer waits. Despite his assumptions, she'd not enter his consciousness without good cause.

“All of... this.” He gestures to Yennefer's fine bed, the wash-basin, the candles. “Could you... could you see to Ciri's room, too? I don't want her to be uncomfortable here.”

Yennefer's expression softens minutely. “Yes. Of course.”

“Good.” Geralt nods, and then turns again.

“Geralt?” Yennefer calls after him. He stops mid-step. “For her. I will make her comfortable, for her. Not for you. Understand that.”

There is a beat of silence before he nods. She doesn't watch his retreat. The door clicks closed.

Yennefer lets out a long breath as she presses her back against the wood. Their interactions are sporadic, but each one is uniquely painful. Her skin still tingles alive in his presence; her cheeks still flare hotly. But it's just a lie. It's the djinn, and nothing more.

Unwilling to think further on that subject, she casts her mind to the other occupants of the crumbling keep. Honestly, she couldn't give a fat fucking fig about Coën and Lambert. They seem content to curl up in their own filth.

Vesemir she holds less animosity towards, simply because both of them are still weighing one another up. Yennefer recognises a powerful mind; Vesemir is old, but he is far from stupid or useless. If he asked her, she'd tend to his ease.

And then there's Jaskier.

Crossing the room, she sits delicately down on the new mattress, and picks one of the furs up again. The bard seems to alternate between purposefully bothering her, and paradoxically allowing her close enough to witness his vulnerabilities. Yennefer thinks back to the way he offered up his own room so she'd not be cold; the way he dropped an entire jar of Dwarven spirit on the alchemy floor; to the wine and cups he'd bring to her room most nights. So she wouldn't be alone. So they wouldn't be alone.

Yennefer sighs to herself. Then she begins to draw energy from the frozen ground deep beneath her. Chaos guides her work.

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

“Enter if you dare!” Jaskier calls out when Yennefer knocks on his door. “For I am armed, Coën, and not afraid—ah, hello, witch.”

Amused, Yennefer looks at the old broomstick he is wielding. Unfortunately, she knows she cannot mock him for this. “Expecting company, bard?”

“Not as such.” Jaskier lowers his weapon. “I'm just prepared.”

Yennefer lets out a short laugh. “I've met stray dogs that are more prepared than you.”

“Now, that's unfair. A dog has agility and strength, and sharp teeth. I simply have my wits.”

“Truly a tragedy, and rather remarkable that you're still alive.” Yennefer agrees.

“Nevermind that,” Jaskier huffs, “What brings you here? It's not wine o'clock yet.”

“I thought it was always wine o'clock.”

“I'm trying to set a good example. We do have royalty to nurture, you know. Can't be two bottles deep every day.” Jaskier says.

“Right. Just every other day.”

“Exactly.”

Yennefer grins. She can't help it; he's ridiculous, and he plays into it expertly. Jaskier tilts his head at her and smirks in a way that always confuses her. She can't read him like this; he's all sincere eyes, so expressive. It's disarming.

“I brought you a few things.” Yennefer blurts, disliking the sudden tension. It's the right thing to say. Jaskier instantly perks up.

“Ooh, gifts?” He asks, before pausing. “Wait, this had better not be some kind of magely courting. I have a reputation to uphold, and I'm not so easily bought--”

“Jaskier,” Yennefer interrupts, “if I wanted to fuck you, it would have happened already, and in a spectacular fashion. Don't give yourself so much credit.”

“Er—right.” Jaskier's voice cracks; as Yennefer turns to the doorway to pick up her things, she pretends she missed the beetroot blush that sears his cheeks. “I mean, sure, you can go ahead and tell yourself that, if it helps you sleep... um, what are these?”

Yennefer lays two wrapped objects on the bed, both boxed and unidentifiable. “Things I thought you might need.”

Jaskier eyes them for mere moments before his curiosity wins out. He undoes the first with deft fingers, releasing the latch on the box. His sharp intake of breath gives Yennefer a bone-deep feeling of satisfaction.

“Oh, Yen...” Jaskier purrs, pulling the new clothes out of the small trunk. “These are so lovely. What a shade of blue. And the embroidery!”

“Yes, well.” Yennefer says. “You were starting to stink.”

“Untrue, unfair, but utterly forgiven.” Jaskier rebuts, still admiring the doublet, trousers, and accessories. “Ooh, is this vest fur-lined?”

“Hush up,” Yennefer instructs, “and open the other.”

Jaskier carefully places the clothing down, doing as he is bid. The second box swings open on silent hinges. Jaskier instantly tenses up where he stands.

“It's not Filavandrel's lute,” Yennefer says, cautiously, “but I thought you might like something to tide you over until you are able to buy one you like. I don't know much about lutes. I kept it rather simple, in case I got the spell wrong.”

He's said nothing, and she's rambling. It unsettles her. Perhaps this is too soon; she knows how much he loved that old instrument, and her replacement isn't nearly as grand.

“You needn't use it if you don't want.” Yennefer continues, her voice growing harsher without her permission. “Forget it. I'll take it back--”

The air is knocked clear from her lungs when Jaskier pivots on his feet and pulls her against him, wrapping his arms around her in a fierce hug. He has to bend down to bury his face in the crook of her neck. Yennefer feels the damp flick of his eyelashes against her skin. It's all she can do to cling to his jacket in return.

“Thank you.” Jaskier mumbles hoarsely. He's trembling against her. “Thank you, Yen.”

He seems to come back to himself, loosening his grip. She breathes. They are so very close; she can see the brimming tears in his eyes, feel the warm whorl of his breath. His heart flutters double-time in his chest. Yennefer envisions herself moving half-an-inch forward, and him doing the same, meeting her halfway; lips and teeth and tongue--

Quickly, she takes a step back. Jaskier looks bewildered; his arms drop and dangle at his sides again. She's gracious enough not to mention his emotion. Distantly, she realises her own eyes are hot, as if she might well-up at any moment, too. It's nothing, Yennefer thinks. A natural reaction.

“Well.” Her voice is thicker than she'd like. “You know where to find me, for wine o'clock.”

Jaskier nods. He's looking down, stroking the neck of the lute. “I do.”

“Good.” Yennefer backs up towards the door. “I'll see you later, bard.”

“Not if I see you first.” Jaskier whispers, smiling.

Yennefer does not run back to her room. She simply walks quickly. And she certainly doesn't grin.

[august-anon]

oh and no pressure here (full pressure on the others /j) but maybe “You won’t.” or “What kind of a question is that?” with friends-more-than-frienemies yennskier? s2 has made me very fond of them ~🌵💞

Absolutely of course dear heart!! S2 made me very fond of their new dynamic as well lol. Another person also asked for "You won't." with Yen and Jask, so I went with the other dialogue! Look at you, getting the best of both worlds lol

Also, lee!Jask special for you lol

----

20 Questions

Fandom: The Witcher

Ship(s): Gen

Characters (lee/ler): Lee!Jaskier, Ler!Yennefer

Word Count: 825 words

Summary: If the bard was going to ask such silly questions, Yennefer would do it better.

[ao3 link]

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

The bard was incessant. A few non-antagonistic words and suddenly he thought they were best friends. No wonder Geralt hadn’t been able to shake him, all those years. Because it absolutely did not become endearing after a time, and Yennefer absolutely did not share in the bard’s feelings of friendship.

Not at all.

Truthfully, it was nice to have company. She often locked herself away in one of the numerous abandoned rooms in the keep, sifting through the things mages had left behind. She would have her daily lessons with Ciri, but other than that, no one sought her out unless they needed her skillset. Things between her and the witchers, particularly Geralt, were still a little tense, and she could certainly understand their hesitation after what she nearly did.

But Jaskier seemed to have no preservation instinct, as always. She thought he’d be off on his mischievous and merry way once she checked over and healed his burned fingers, but he just kept coming back. Sometimes he’d sit and watch her sort through things in silence (though that was rare), sometimes he’d bring the lute he’d dug up from another abandoned room and write in her company, and quite often he would come in and find ways to goad and annoy her into conversation.

Such as today.

Jaskier had fooled her into joining in on some question game, and though she was loath to admit it, it was almost kind of fun. Not to mention, though they had known each other for years by this point, it was a little surprising to Yennefer how little she actually knew about the bard. Especially considering how much he talked.

Yennefer had lost track of how long they were playing this question game, but it had to have been hours. She’d cataloged almost the entirety of the room’s magical artifacts, and through the filthy window she could see that the sun had sunk rather low in the sky. Dinner would be called for, soon. And good thing, too, considering it seemed they were both running out of questions. And Jaskier was certainly taking his sweet time coming up with his next one, groaning obnoxiously as he thought it through.

“Oh, I know!” He said at last. He pranced toward her with a leering grin. “Yennefer of Vengerberg. Are you… ticklish?”

Yennefer jerked back, furrowing her brows and looking at Jaskier like he was insane. “What kind of a question is that?”

“That’s not an answer,” he sang.

Yennefer crossed her arms over her chest, hoping the move didn’t look too defensive. “No,” she lied.

Jaskier raised an eyebrow. “I believe we had a no lying rule in place?”

“What makes you think I’m lying?”

“Everyone’s ticklish, Yennefer.”

Yennefer raised her own eyebrows. “Then what’s the point of asking if I am? Why not ask where, or how much?”

Jaskier rolled his eyes. “Fine, where–”

“Ah! Not so fast, bard. You already used your question.”

“Then answer it.”

Yennefer rolled her eyes. “Fine, yes, is that what you wanted?”

Jaskier gave her a smug smile. She returned it.

“Good luck finding where, though.”

Jaskier frowned. “Dammit.” He sighed. “Fine, your turn.”

Yennefer smirked at him. “Where are you ticklish, Jaskier?”

She watched in satisfaction as blood rushed to Jaskier’s face and he started awkwardly stammering out excuses.

“You can’t just–”

“Oh, but you can? Tell me, bard, what were you about to change your question to a moment ago.”

Jaskier pressed his lips together and scowled at her.

“No matter,” she continued. “If you cannot answer honestly, I’ll simply have to find out for myself.”

Jaskier’s face dropped in shock. “Wait, Yennefer–!”

Yennefer did not wait. And frankly, Jaskier was doing a poor job of defense. He just stood there, a grin tugging at his lips, as he held his arms out in front of him like that would stop her. Her fingers easily skirted past to deliver nibbling little pinches on his sides, slipping up to skitter at his ribs before moving back down once more.

Jaskier doubled over on top of her arms, laughing heartily and stumbling backwards until he hit a table. She stepped in front of him and started scritching at his hips through his ridiculously colored clothing and he positively howled.

“This does not bode well for you, bard,” she teased, an undeniably giddy grin tugging at her own lips. “It seems the answer to my question may just be everywhere.”

“Yenna– wait!”

“Wait for what? For the dinner bell to ring so you can make your escape? I think not. No, we’ll be staying right here until it’s time for us to go and eat.”

Jaskier yelped and giggled as she moved her wiggling fingers to his stomach. He finally seemed to gather his senses enough to clutch at her wrists, but he made no further moves to push her away. She smirked again.

“Not that you want to, as it seems.”

[artistsfuneral]

Eskel/Geralt/Jaskier, even more negotiation, even more talking, cutagens, weird dog things [more]

---

Jaskier nudges his calves into Pegasus' sides, making the lazy gelding catch up with Roach and Scorpion. “So,” he starts, dragging out the 'o' and grinning as he hears Geralt sigh dramatically. “You remember how we talked about your pack, the one that I still haven't met despite us knowing each other for what- three decades by now?” Eskel's shoulders twitch in silent laughter. “I do,” Geralt grits out, keeping his eyes straight ahead.

“Fantastic! So, I have been thinking-”

“That's a first,” Geralt retorts as dryly as he can muster, but his lips twitch upwards as Eskel breaks into a barking laughter. Their bard rolls his eyes and repeats, this time louder, “I've been thinking! And I know that you don't want me to meet them because of your mutations. But seriously, I have known you two for a while know and I can't say I noticed anything off-putting.”

“Yeah, because you have never seen Eskel roll himself over a squished earthworm.”

“I'm sorry what?” Turning around in his saddle, Jaskier stares at the biggest wolf aghast. The latter draws up his shoulders in a helpless shrug and grins at Jaskier sheepishly. “At least it's just worms. Remus likes to roll in bird shit.” Jaskier desperately hopes that Eskel is joking, but when he turns to look at Geralt for any sign of a faux, the white haired witcher is looking at him completely serious.

“I mean, uh-” he blinks a few time, suddenly remembering his grandmother's dog that liked to roll itself in it's caught pray. “A bit weird, but as long as nobody hugs me like that, I can't say I mind that much. What else?”

The two wolves share a long look. It's one of those silent conversations that remind the bard that Geralt and Eskel have been brothers for decades, maybe even centuries. Whatever they're deciding upon it takes them a moment, but once they've come to a conclusion, their attention settles on Jaskier again. “Alright,” Geralt says slowly, “if you're sure you want to know.” When Jaskier doesn't say anything, Geralt sighs one last time and nods at his mate.

“We're a pack, so its all of us or no one. You will have to get along with all eight of our packmates and some don't trust easily. It will be a lot of work.” The bard listens closely, nods and takes a mental note to remember this conversation, so he can go through it once more at a later occasion.

“You will probably have no privacy whatsoever. Wolves are pack animals and you tend to forget that we're witchers. We hear, smell and see everything you do, you won't be able to fart without one of us knowing.” Jaskier makes a face at the brutal honesty.

“We hunt and we like to eat our catch raw.”

“We fight during winter, things can get bloody.”

“Everyone of us has nightmares, night-terrors, we scream, fight, wander the halls at night.”

“Trust isn't earned easily, they will test you.”

“We're restoring the keep, day in and day out we work.”

“The surrounding mountains are dangerous enough to kill you.”

Geralt takes a deep breath and locks eyes with Jaskier. “You will get hurt,” he says and it sounds much more like a rueful admission than anything else. It dawns on the bard, why he hasn't been invited to the infamous witcher keep yet. Reaching out, he takes hold of one of Geralt's hands and squeezes it reassuringly. “We can wait, Geralt. It's okay.”

The white wolf ducks his head and squeezes back, Jaskier smiles.

@hailhailsatan @kalikatze @whereiscarmensa @selectivegeekwithstandards @emotional-support-fandom @a-kind-of-merry-war @wolf-and-bard @kuripon @feral-jaskier @permanently-exhausted-bitch @fontegagrilledcheese

tell me if u (don’t) want to be tagged

[babylooneytoonz]

the Vessel [ Pt. 14 ]

— pairing: Geralt of Rivia x reader

— summary: You, Geralt and Jaskier are on the road again, and something is on the Witcher's mind. How would you react to it?

— warnings: a lot of fluff🥺

*Please reblog if you like it, do not repost or claim my work as yours.

[My Masterlist] [My Witcher Masterlist - Read the other parts here!]

"I'm still here, you know?" Jaskier deadpanned, kicking a stone that came his way, cradling his long lost lute like a baby.

You chuckled at his words and sunk back into your lover's arms, who was seated on the mare behind you, your head now resting against his sturdy chest as you looked up at him and he looked down at you, smirking slightly.

"Come on Geralt, Jaskier's jealous. He thinks you've stopped focusing on him now that I'm here," you giggled playfully as Geralt shook his head, amused and craned his neck slightly, giving your earlobe a bite.

"Well, I'm not jealous, but I definitely feel like a third wheel, and in dire need of an inn—"

"Or a brothel," you added, and Geralt hummed in agreement with you, his thick, veiny arms locking around your now wide girth making you feel ticklish and squirm, "On a serious note, Geralt. Can we stop? I really need to take a piss. And a bath."

"Gosh, [Y/N]." Jaskier pretended to cover his ears dramatically, "You're the Princess of Cintra!"

"So?" You scowled, taking your foot out of the saddle and jutting out your leg so you could kick your friend's bottom but he dodged it, "Do princesses not take a piss? Besides, I am not a Princess anymore."

"What?" Geralt and Jaskier said out loud, together. And you nodded. Whelp. In all the drama, you had forgotten to actually tell them why you had run away. Or that— you had run away.

"Well, I sort of left it?" You drawled, absentmindedly and Geralt nudged you slightly, looking down at you, concerned.

"Why?" He raised a brow.

"Well, it seems that not only did the Witcher had some things to hide," Jaskier began, and you glared at him, "by the looks of it, you have something to tell us [Y/N]?"

You scowled, running your hand sheepishly through your hair and began clearing your throat, when Jaskier interrupted, "Don't tell me Queen Calanthe decided to name your baby Podrick."

You gave him a look of disbelief at first; but couldn't keep a straight face, as you bursted out laughing.

"What's wrong with the name Podrick for a boy?" You asked, wiggling your brows at him, and Geralt shook his head, faintly, silently amused.

"Well, Princess [Y/N], if you have a boy, you are naming him after me. Jaskier, obviously?" He smiled at you, wiggling his brows in retaliation.

"Or maybe, Dandelion?" You began, and both Jaskier and Geralt muttered, "No." At the same time.

"I won't have my son named after a flower, for fucks sake," he grumbled under his breath, and you pouted, pushing out your lower lip as you felt Geralt's palm ghost over your belly, protectively securing his palm over the bulge of it and you smiled.

"What happened in Cintra?" Geralt suddenly asked, manouvring the conversation back to where it had started from, and you looked down at your hands, rubbing them against the fabric of your dress.

"Mother wanted me to marry Foltest."

Upon hearing your words, the Witcher stiffened, his hand slowly pulling away. Suddenly, he tugged at Roach's reins so hard, the poor mare stopped."Ouch," you cursed under your breath, and then tried to pacify the sudden uncomfortable silence between the three of you by making small talk, "What?"

"I'm sorry but your mother wanted you to marry that sister fucker? Isn't that right Geralt?" Jaskier nudged your foot that was in the saddle and you sighed, your shoulders tensing slightly. Geralt was morosely quiet, and although he was a man of few words, you felt like this revelation was going to stop the progress that he was making with you.

"She thought that's the only way to protect me. And this baby. Because a lot of enemies will want to get their hands on me. Although, it's stupid, right? I mean, I have Geralt to take care of me," you muttered absentmindedly, staring at the flock of birds that flew past your mare.

It was only when Geralt cleared his throat, a little to coursely, that you craned your neck slightly towards him and noticed how his jaw had clenched, and he was fisting the reins in his grip.

"Shall we move on? We should reach a village in an hour or two. We can see if an inn can accomodate us," he bluntly added, and you blinked, looking down at Jaskier and giving him a questioning look.

Lucky for the three of you, the three of you reached a nearby village sooner than you had expected. By that time, you were exhausted; your body sore at all the odd spots that you couldn't even put a name to or say it out loud. Geralt helped you get off Roach, his movements being tender, but he did not even once, try to talk to you.

The three of you entered the tavern, Jaskier leading the way in while you waddled through in the middle, as much as your bump allowed you to move. Geralt was in the extreme end, and you couldn't see much of him, or hear from him, except for a few occasional grunts you received.

Geralt got the three of you the last of the two rooms that were available and Jaskier disappeared into the first one, leaving you and Geralt to settle down in your own shared room.

You sat down by the edge of the bed, the bed creaking when you put your weight on it. Geralt placed his sword by the chair, before his hands came to rest against the fabric of his shirt and he started prying it off.

"Are you going to say something?" You finally asked, pulling both your hands together and rubbing them as though you were cold, "You've been sulking ever since I told you about what happened in Cintra."

Geralt grunted under his breath, and instead of replying to you, he moved past you to where a metal bathing tub, big enough to fit in the two of you, had already been set out, the water warm, and steam arising out of it. Geralt lowered his slacks, letting it fall to the floor as he stepped out of it, practically ignoring you. You could hear the sound of him wading into the water.

Sighing to yourself, you slowly lifted yourself off the edge of the bed, and turned to face the witcher, who was now seated against the tub, his arms holding the sides of the tub as he looked at you. Slowly, you let your tunic drop to the floor as you stepped out of it. It would have been a lie to say that you felt sexy, especially with your baloon belly that didn't let you look down at your feet. But you really needed that warm bath, to cure the soreness you were feeling.

Geralt threw out his palm towards you when he saw you step into the bathtub and you were thankful for it. He helped you get in and finally, you settled yourself in between the Witcher's legs, letting the back of your head rest against his sturdy chest, feeling the rise and the fall of it, "You're angry with me."

"Not with you. I'm just angry in general," Geralt retorted, and you couldn't help but roll your eyes at him.

"I'm not marrying Foltest. You should know that. Not after all that happened between us." You stared at the ceiling, while Geralt scooped some water into his palms and poured them on top of your head, trying to give you a head bath.

"When you said that, it got me thinking," Geralt suddenly began, as his fingers began to lather against your wet hair, his fingers rubbing through your scalp, making all the tension and the knots in your body melt away, but what words followed afterwards, only made the tension once again spiral back, "What happens once you give birth? Will you and the baby travel and be on the roads with a fucking Witcher? Who cannot settle in one place?"

"Geralt, where is all this coming from?" You turned to face him, letting your legs slide behind his body, with your baby bump now between you and his body forming a shield around it.

"Just got me thinking.. what kind of a life am I gonna be able to give you?"

Your fingers were now drawing intrinsic patterns over his chest, but your eyes were looking into his, trying to reach out to the man that hid beneath the facade of a cold, unemotional Witcher, "I don't care Geralt, all I know is that I want you."

"I want you too but I am thinking of your future." He said, stroking the side of your face with his wet thumb.

"I don't care if our love's forbidden, all I care about is that I want to be with you, I want us to raise our baby together," you slowly dropped your hand into the water, your hand finding his as you clasped your fingers with his and pulled out his hand. You brought it up to your baby bump, placing your hand tenderly over his. Geralt's breathing hitched, his huge palm draped protectively over your unborn baby and you smiled at him.

"I'm scared I will disappoint you. We Witchers weren't exactly meant to be domestic," He brought your palm up to his lips and planted a warm, chaste kiss on the inside of your palm, "I'm going to disappoint you and our baby. And you're going to hate me for the life I couldn't give you."

"No you won't. You underestimate yourself. You might be intimidating and cold on the exterior Geralt, but you—" Your smile widened, and Geralt popped his brow up, waiting for you to continue, "You are one big softie secretly."

"No, I'm not," he said, sounding fake serious.

"Oh yes, you are. You're a big bear," you playfully pulled your hand away from his, and splashed him with water. His eyes widened when the splash hit him, his lips pursing together.

"Geralt, I — I'm sorry."

"Oh, no love. This is war."

Geralt used his two hands to scoop as much water as he could and splashed you back and you let out a playful screech, "Geralt!"

"What? You called it. Come on now."

Geralt towered over the bathtub, the towel wrapped securely around his waist, covering his manhood, droplets of water rolling down his chest and his calves. He threw out a palm towards you and you whined; the water was too soothing for your exhausted body and you didn't want to get out. But there was no standing against the White Wolf. He slowly helped you up, making you stand, and carefully holding you by your waist so you didn't slip, as the pads of your feet were wet; he waited patiently for you to step out.

"Worried I'll catch a cold? I'm stronger that that." You drawled as you placed your hand into his.

Once you were out, he slowly turned you towards him to face him and wrapped a towel around your frame, using it to tap dry you all over.

"You pamper me, love," you smiled, letting your palm rest against your chest as he now worked to dry your hair.

"This is nothing compared to the happiness you are gifting me with."

You gave him a weak smile as you sat down by the edge of the bed, and slid into your comfortable slip, pulling it over your face and your neck, letting your eyes shut. After a few seconds, you opened your eyes, only to find the Witcher kneeling down between your legs, his eyes on your belly.

"You would never have been possible if it wasn't for your mother," Geralt whispered to your stomach in a tender way, momentarily glancing up into your eyes.

"Mhm, don't listen to the crap this man is feeding you with, Podrick."

"Not with that name again, [Y/N]." Geralt grumbled under his breath, but you could see a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. He let his forehead rest against your bump as he fluttered his eyes shut and inhaled your sweet fragrance, his hands holding you from your hips, "Besides, I have a feeling it's going to be a little girl, with eyes like her mother. She is going to take over on you. Not that I would have it any other way."

"Oh, Witcher, my Witcher ," You pulled him up to sit next to you as you leaned in to kiss him, and he slowly arched forward, his lips melting into yours as he mumbled between the kiss, "You might be a future Queen of Cintra, but you are my queen this day forward."

When you pulled apart, licking your lips, tasting the aftermath of Geralt's lips on you, you suddenly grabbed his wrists, and smiled cheekily, "let me do your braids, love."

"Go to sleep," he grumbled, moving away but you caught his hand again, giving him a sad pout, "Please?"

"Fine," he grumbled as he sat down on the floor in front of you, his back turned towards you, his elbows resting on his knees as he turned his gaze to the side, instead of turning to face you completely, "only this once." He turned back around, a small smile playing on his lips. Who was he kidding, he wanted you to braid his hair every single day. He fluttered his eyes shut, letting out an exhale as your fingers dug through his scalp, pulling his hair back.

Geralt woke up rather abruptly.

He sat up in bed, squirming slightly but when he turned towards you, sleeping peacefully on your side, your arm protectively draped over your beautiful bump, his heart swelled twice the size it was. You looked so innocent, so pure and you were his.

Gently, he pried the covers off, sliding his feet to the edge until the pads of his feet were resting against the cold ground. He stood up, and grabbed his discarded clothes that were strewn all over the floor, sliding into his slacks before he pulled his crumpled tunic over his head.

He turned to look at your sleeping form once before he slowly walked out of the bedroom, ensuring to let the door close as quietly as possible.

He dragged himself downstairs. He was starving after the night, but all he needed was a pitcher of ale to set him up. The tavern was empty, except for one or two men who did not have a steady job, so they had found themselves drinking at the tavern. The usual rush came in the evening.

Holding his pitcher in his left hand, he made his way to a table in the back, that overlooked the window. He sat down, huddling in a corner, bringing the pitcher up to his lips, when someone slammed himself in the chair in front of him.

"Rough night?"

"Speak for yourself, Jaskier, " Geralt smirked, as he brought the pitcher to his lips, eyeing him.

"Why on earth do you think I am hiding in a corner like this?" Jaskier blinked, wiggling his brows.

"Jaskier, don't drag me into the messes you create," Geralt hummed, taking a sip of the ale.

"You look different. You have a glow. Now I am curious. Did [Y/N] give you a beauty treatment?" He said smugly, letting his elbows rest against the table as he grabbed a piece of meat and tossed it into his mouth.

When Geralt didn't reply, Jaskier arched his body even more forward, leaning almost close to Geralt and Geralt scowled.

"I see you let her braid your hair."

"Fuck off," Geralt murmured, tight-lipped. He would have said more, but something in the back caught his attention, and his jaw dropped. Jaskier, following Geralt's gaze, slowly turned towards the direction where Geralt was looking at and that's when he saw what he was staring at— it was you.

You were standing by the counter, in a long, flowy dress, a beautiful white flower fixed to your hair, talking to the owner of the tavern. You slowly looked up from whatever you were talking to the owner about, and as though you had felt his eyes on him, you looked right at Geralt, the corners of your lips tugging into a warm smile. Jaskier looked from you back to Geralt, noting the smile that had formed on his friend's lips as you made your way towards him.

"Morning, husband. What do we have in here for breakfast? Your baby is starving," you gave Jaskier a wink, and Jaskier's jaw dropped, as he spat out the ale that he was drinking, splashing it all over the table, coughing and hitting his chest as though something was lodged into his throat.

You and Geralt looked at each other, and Geralt sat back, patting on his thigh as you sat doen on his lap, and Geralt locked his arm around you. "What did you say?" Jaskier asked, standing up, his hands on his hips, "HUSBAND?! You're married now? What happened in that bedroom last night?"

"Words, words, words and confessions?" Geralt's arm held you steady on his lap and you turned towards him, your nose touching his as you bit your lip, "Well, the Butcher of Blaviken declared he wanted to live his action packed life with me."

Geralt grumbled under his breath; and you kissed the tip of his nose, biting it teasingly, "Now husband? Where's the food?"

Geralt smacked your thigh playfully, and you immediately stood up, before Geralt was up too, "On it, woman."

A/N: okay for those who are wondering if they missed a chapter in between, wherein they got married then no you did not. I didn't write their wedding descriptively. They got married at the inn during the night, which I chose not to write because I had no freaking idea how to😂

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Want to be added to the list? Plz let me know via my ask box, inbox and comments. ✨

[ficsandcatsandficsandcats]

I know this won't all fit in one ask so here goes! Haha! Okay so plus size reader x jaskier. With some jealous jaskier. And he's jealous because reader and geralt are pretty good friends, but thats not why he's jealous, he's jealous because he keeps walking in on them at the worst times and they keep finding themselves in like really odd situations that can be read as sexual when they are NOT EVEN CLOSE TO THAT AT ALL and jaskier just keeps walking in at THEE worst time. Reader has been in 1/?

Love with jaskier for years, they’re close, she’s shy so now he’s like how come Geralt gets to have all this closeness & not me. So he kind of pulls away & maybe starts mumbling to himself when they’re all together & so finally she asks him whats wrong & he’s like very short with her & meaner than he means to be about her & geralt. & she is accidentally like “i’m not in love with him. fucks sake Jaskier ive been in love YOU for years!” & storms off & then reconciliation? THANK YOU!

Fandom: The WitcherPairing: Jaskier x ReaderWord Count: 1,470Rating: TTaglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak @whatevermonkey @mynamesoundslikesherlock @magic-multicolored-miracle @writingstudent @mlleecrivaine @coffee-and-stories @ultracolorfulnerdcollection @astouract @your-not-invisible-to-me @kemmastan a/n: I hope you enjoy it! Thank you for the prompt!

One of the greatest mysteries in Jaskier’s many-storied life was how Geralt consistently surrounded himself with gorgeous women.

Despite how frustrating and downright scary he found her, Jaskier would never deny Yennefer’s beauty. From the stories he’d heard Renfri was also lovely, as was the sorceress Triss Merigold. The warriors who had accompanied them up the mountain were gorgeous with their long necks and strong physiques. Yet all of them had eyes for Geralt and Geralt alone. This continued when it came to you. Geralt had introduced you to Jaskier as a long-time friend but Jaskier knew better. Geralt would be a fool to resist a woman of your charms and you were clearly smitten with him. Jaskier was ecstatic when you joined them on their travels but as his feelings for you deepened, so did his agony.

He would write songs about your beauty only to throw them away when he found you snuggled up on Geralt’s lap before the fire. One time he had walked in on you bent over a table, Geralt right behind you, and you’d tried to say that it ‘wasn’t what it looked like’ and Geralt was ‘just massaging a pulled muscle’ but Jaskier was the first to know those mistakes were all nonsense. He’d “massaged” plenty of “pulled muscles” in his day, thank you very much. There was one night where he thought, perhaps, he had a chance. It was bitterly cold and you’d suggested that you and him share a bedroll, cuddling together for warmth. He’d wrapped you up tight and he could’ve sworn he felt your heart skip a beat as he surreptitiously planted a kiss on your head. But when he woke up, Geralt had joined and you were draped across him. That was when he knew there was no point in trying anymore.

Sure, there were other things along the way that should have made this less devastating. You always gave Geralt long, tight hugs and with Jaskier you were brief and always seemed a bit reluctant or uncertain about touching. You’d casually make bawdy jokes with Geralt but whenever Jaskier made one you blushed or looked askance. Yes, it was clear what was going on here, it didn’t take a genius to see, but it still hurt Jaskier deeply and that hurt turned into outward dickishness.

You noticed that Jaskier grew colder. He didn’t sing songs to you anymore, not even to get your opinion as he wrote songs about the new muse he had, some woman whose beauty was as ample as her body and just as tempting. You envied this woman more than you could bear but you tried to appease yourself with his friendship. True, you were closer with Geralt, having met him long ago, but the real impediment between a close friendship with Jaskier was the feelings you held for him. You kept them tucked away in secret as you watched Jaskier flirt with everyone.

The mumbling was new, though. The coldness and the mumbling started one morning after you had gone to bed with him. Tragically not in a euphemistic way but genuinely curled up for warmth, nestled in his arms. You’d woken in the middle of the night with your teeth chattering, Jaskier even colder than you though fast asleep, and you had woken Geralt to come help you warm him and by the three of you combined you were able to provide enough warmth to sleep through the night. Sleeping next to Geralt was something you’d done a thousand times, you thought nothing of it. But the next morning Jaskier had begun to act strange. He hardly talked and he looked at you even less. When Geralt passed you a piece of bread you thought you heard Jaskier mumble something about ‘getting a piece’ but when you asked him he looked at you in confusion and you moved on. For a week now he’d been making little side comments, though, and you were just about at your limit. You hoped that staying at an inn may help his mood, that perhaps the hard travel was just weighing on him, and he did seem to perk up a bit at getting a warm meal but once Geralt excused himself to leave the mumbling started again.

“What are you doing?” you asked. Jaskier looked up and tried to give you an innocent expression but you were unimpressed.

“What are you talking about?” he countered.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. Every time Geralt talks to me you mutter something to yourself,” you insisted.

“Maybe I have to talk to myself because the only one you ever talk to is Geralt,” Jaskier grumbled.

“That’s just not true,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Right, sorry, my mistake,” Jaskier said, voice hard and sarcastic, “You don’t just talk to him. You also sleep on him and gods know what else when I’m not there. Hell, probably when I’m there too, not like you’d give a damn.”

Your eyes pricked with hot, angry tears and you rose from the table.

“Geralt is my friend. Unlike you. No friend would be so… mean,” you cried.

“I thought you liked mean guys after all, there’s Geralt and you can’t keep your hands off of him,” Jaskier snapped.

“Where the hell is this coming from? I’m not in love with Geralt. I haven’t been in love with anyone but you since we met but you’re so damned pigheaded and stuck in the clouds with your muse that you can’t see anything. Gods, Jaskier, I’ve always defended you when people said you were just some dumb bard but you’re not only daft, you’re cruel,” your voice cracked at the end of your words and you ran from the table towards the stables as swiftly as you could. Jaskier’s head spun as he took in everything that had just happened. He’d never intended to be so harsh, even if you were in love with Geralt it would give him no right to judge or hate you for it. But then you’d said that you loved him? Could such a miracle be true? And even if it was, had be cocked it all up beyond reason now?

Jaskier found you in the stables petting Roach and was grateful not to find you pouring your heart out to Geralt who would likely have murdered him on the spot for making his friend cry, as would be his right. When you saw him you glowered and turned your face back to the horse. Roach looked over at Jaskier and he would’ve sworn he saw disdain in her large, brown eyes.

“Y/N I’ve been an ass,” Jaskier said.

“Yes, you have,” you replied without turning around.

“Everything you said was right. I was mean and cruel and you didn’t deserve any of that,” he continued.

“Too right,” you said with a sniff, wiping your nose with the back of your hand.

“And I hope what I say now doesn’t make it worse,” he said. He saw you stiffen and then turn to face him. Your wet, red-rimmed eyes wrenched his heart. He’d fantasized about how he may confess his love to you countless times and in none of them had he made you cry. Not like this.

“I love you. I’m in love with you. I have been for years and I never told you because… not just because you seemed to close to Geralt – and I know! I know you’re friends!” he said quickly as you frowned and opened your mouth to protest, “But there was such a clear different between how you treated us. You didn’t joke with me as you did him and you seemed reluctant or uncomfortable touching me and I assumed it was because you… well that you didn’t like me. Much less love.”

Realization dawned on your face, as well as a little regret.

“Oh Jaskier… Of course I like you. That’s why I was so distant. I assumed you’d never feel for me the way I did for you and I think I was just trying to keep a safe distance to try and protect my heart. Which means I am also sort of stupid because obviously that ship had sailed,” you said with a rueful laugh.

“You’re not stupid,” Jaskier insisted, moving closer to you and daring to try and take your hand, encouraged when you let him, “Emotions are hard. Well, they’re not, but we make them hard. We humans are a ghastly species.”

“We are,” you agreed, nodding and moving a little closer.

“So,” Jaskier said, pale blue eyes gazing down into yours as you both crept ever so slowly closer, drawn like two magnets that have been held apart for too long, “What happens now?”

You answered him with a kiss.

[babylooneytoonz]

The Vessel [Pt. 6]

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Fem! Reader

Summary: Yennefer doesn't like you, and now you know why. Are you going to do something to make her believe that it's not how she thinks like, or are you just going to go with it, because secretly you know that what she just said to you, is in fact, the truth? Geralt is finally beginning to open up to you, but for how long?

Warnings: None

[My Masterlist] [My Witcher Masterlist - Read the other parts here!]

"How about this, [Y/N]?" Yennefer stood in front of you, her fingers running through the fabric of a pale, cream coloured silk dress, with dark red borders. If there was one thing that you could bring yourself to commend Yennefer for was her taste— the dress she was looking at was fit for royalty.

Yet, out of spite, and out of the fact that you had been dragged out on early morning, woken up from your sleep to accompany the mage on her quest to get you a nice dress, when she had the power in her to magically do those things pissed you off. And then, there was the fact that you were to be presented, on full display, at a celebration she had organised. You— the vessel— a ruined woman— who was carrying a Witcher's baby, for her.

You had a lot of clothes that you still somehow managed to fit into, as your belly was a little rounder, and one could see the outline of a burgeoning baby bump, if one was to look carefully. But tell that to the Mage, who was right now standing in one of the village shops, looking for a dress for you.

"Um, it's good," you whispered, crossing your arms over your chest— you just wanted to leave.

"Good that you like it. Once my baby grows within you, you're not gonna be able to fit into those shreds anyway," she said, eyeing your plain dress in an almost distaste, and you suppressed the urge to scoff.

"We'll take it, how much for it?" She then turned towards the woman, curling her lips, regarding the older looking woman who smiled wide, excited that she was getting some business as she informed the Mage that it would be ten coins.

Once Yennefer had paid off the woman, she tossed you the dress, and you groaned, catching it midair, and just like that, you began following the woman again, like a lost puppy.

Finally, the two of you were out of the shop, and you felt like you could breathe again. You waited a few seconds, for the way she had brought you here, you assumed she will do the same— open a magic portal, grab your hand and pull you in. When she didn't, you frowned and turned towards her, questioningly, only to find her staring at you, studying you.

"Uh, what?"

"Nothing, love."

There it was; that fake sweetness, once again, ringing at the back of your mind, prompting you that something bad was to come.

"I hope you know that Geralt's never going to look at you the way he looks at me, right?"

You glared at her, your lips parting in surprise but she placed her index finger to your lips before you could even say anything. To her, you were like a little lamb, taking their first steps.

"I don't want you to end up falling in love with a man that doesn't know how to reciprocate those feelings."

You pursed your lips together, your eyes unwavering when Yennefer looked into them. Her fingers still rested on your chin, holding your face. In truth, you felt like a cornered animal.

"Don't worry, Yennefer. I won't. Geralt is.." You thought for a bit, your mind suddenly turning off, and the words that you chose next somehow popped into your mind just randomly— words that you regretted saying almost instantly the minute they escaped your lips, "Used goods."

Her eyebrow shot up in amusement, and her lips curled into a side smirk. Her thumb began to run along the side of your face, your neckline and she smiled, her other hand reaching out and rubbing over your belly lightly, "You're funny. You're very funny. Big words coming out from a woman's mouth, when you practically tossed your body to the Witcher for some coin."

"Yennefer, to be fair—" Your breathing hitched, as you took a sharp breath, and jerked her hand away, taking a step away from her, your hand protectively latching to your tiny bump, as you began stroking over it as though comforting it, "I tossed my body for some coin. You tossed the man you claim to love to fuck another woman. I think we both know how similar the two of us are, in many many ways."

Even the beautiful woman standing in front of you couldn't hide the scowl that formed on her face for a second. She lost it and immediately, turned away, flustered, still scowling, for you could hear her breathe heavy as she began to conjure up the portal, so the two of you could get back.

You felt odd, like a fish thrown out of water amidst the flurry of mages, all around you. You knew many of them, mostly by name— you could see Tissaia de vries— you had only heard about her, and now she was right there, in front of your eyes. The funny part of it all was, that this celebration was for you, or for the baby you were gifting them with, but no one even bothered as to give you another look. It was all Yennefer.

You reached out, your fingers clasping against the glass of sparkling water in front of you on the table, where your plate of exotic freshly cut fruits lay untouched. You pulled it up to your lips, your eyes circling around, mostly in distaste at what you saw around you. Women— which you weren't sure if they were just illusions created by spells, or real, dressed in nothing, their naked bodies on display — walked around.

On one end of the hall, you saw Jaskier. He was surrounded by a flock of richly dressed older looking women, and you rolled your eyes at him, listening to him as he sang the infamous ballad, toss a coin to your Witcher, which suddenly reminded you of the brooding Witcher you knew. You looked around, your eyes scanning through the crowds until you spotted the familiar white hair, standing out from the rest of them.

He was standing in a corner, drinking ale from a silver pitcher, looking as bored as you were, which was ironical as this was technically his celebration too. You stood up, your glass of water still in your hand as you gracefully made your way to him, pushing your way through the naked women, frowning at the casuality of it all. Geralt spotted you making your way towards him so he shifted slightly so he he was now directly looking at you.

"Not enjoying your own celebration? It has naked women." You asked, giving him a ghost of a smile, trying to make small talk with him as you fixed yourself right next to him, leaning against the wall.

He grumbled something under his breath, typical Geralt of Rivia style, and you couldn't help but smile to yourself as you started looking around.

"You don't think I agree with Yennefer on everything?" He suddenly said, his voice low and heavy, that caused your head to turn towards him, "This is a waste of time."

"Well, Witcher—" You smiled, tight lipped, bringing your glass up to your lips as you took a sip, and started looking at Yennefer, who was in the center of the hall, mingling with the guests, and nodded, "If there ever is anything that you and me both can agree upon, it's this. This indeed, is a waste of time. Although—"

You eyed Jaskier; who was now laughing at something one of the women said, however his eyes were fixed on a naked woman standing by the table, her finger stretched as she beckoned towards the bard to join her, "Jaskier seems to be enjoying himself."

Geralt grunted, his gaze following yours until the two of you were watching the bard, and the whore disappear through one of the hallways in the back, and Geralt shook his head.

"Why? Does your friend embarass you?" You smirked, your hand flying to the side of your face, pushing the loose strands of hair behind your ear.

"I thought Jaskier's your friend," Geralt smirked back at you in retaliation, and this time, he didn't even try to hide it.

"Yes, he is but he doesn't embarass me, at all."

"Hm," Geralt brought the pitcher of ale to his lips and took a sip of it, a droplet of ale running down the side of his lips. For some reason, he found himself wanting to smile, but he had trained himself over the years not to.

"Well, I'll let you be. I need some air," you waved off, as you whispered, letting the empty goblet you were drinking water from rest against the table where Geralt was as you pulled yourself away from him, your arms instantly clothing around your upper body. Geralt nodded his head, as he watched you walk off.

If it wasn't for the moon shining right on top of you, you wouldn't have been able to see a damn thing as you stepped out of the structure from the back. It was silent, except for occasional high pitched screaming from somewhere inside the stone structure, and you wondered if it was Jaskier, not that it was your concern.

Crushing the dried leaves underneath your feet, you stepped out until you were standing by the cliff, staring at the village at a distance, looking like glitter scattered over a black canvas, the tiny lights glistening.

You unknowingly took a step backwards, only to turn rigid and almost freeze, when your back hit something sturdy, yet you knew it wasn't a wall, it was strong but it felt soft against your back and you could feel someone's breath on you, signalling you that it was definitely a person.

You almost screamed, when Geralt grabbed a hold of both your arms, in an attempt to steady you to your feet, for you were technically, on a cliff , and one slip of your footing can lead you to tumble all the way down the humongously high mountain.

"It's just me."

You didn't realize how your breath had accelerated, your chest heaving up and down, and it was only the Witcher's voice that finally managed to calm you down a bit. You took a slow step around, turning so you were face to face with him, your bodies almost touching; at least you could feel your tiny bump rub against Geralt's abdomen, but he didn't seem to mind.

"You're not immortal," he murmured, in a husky voice.

You raised your brow, but did not attempt to step away from him. You didn't know what it was— maybe it was the warmth that his body was radiating, that you seemed to find comfort standing so close.

"Do you think there are any monsters on a cliff top?" You asked, looking up at him, wondering how his eyes were so — bright — you could literally see them glowing in the dark, the moonlight falling over his face, highlighting his features.

"Not all monsters are dangerous, some people are too."

"Touche," you smiled, still looking up at him, until there was silence, and Geralt cleared his throat, stepping away as whatever the moment was, finally ended.

Geralt kept standing by the edge of the cliff, his back now turned towards you, giving you a clear view of his sword as you lowered yourself against a rock, both your hands resting on your lap. After a few seconds of silence, the Witcher finally turned, his eyes meeting yours as he turned, but only for a brief second until he had walked up to where you were, and he was looking down at you. Almost silently, as though he had asked you to shift, you scooted slightly to your right, and the Witcher sat down too, his side brushing against yours.

"How are you?" He asked, in a low voice, the gentleness in his voice urging you to draw your lips into a smile as your fingers began toying with each other.

"I'm okay. I needed to get out. All that, I can't tolerate it. Makes me want to throw up. Not because of the baby but—"

"Hm, she can be a little too much at times," Geralt interceded, almost immediately, and you nodded, engulfed by the famous Witcher silence once again. Involuntarily, your hands flew up to the side of your arms as you began rubbing them, staring at the sky above you until you felt an urge to look at him.

"Geralt?"

He turned towards you, regarding you with a bit of glimmer in his already bright irises.

"Where would you go? I mean, where would Yennefer take the my baby.. your baby after the birth?"

He frowned a little, parting his lips slightly, letting his head tilt to one side, as his hand flew up to his temple, his index scratching it briefly, until he relaxed once again.

"Well, Yen, she would be staying here. You can stay too. If you want to be close to the baby. I'm sure Yen would appreciate the help."

"No, I guess I'd go back to my own life, take care of my shack back in the village. I'll maybe get a job at the tavern, will bring in some coin—" You drawled, staring at a distance when Yennefer suddenly walked up to where the two of you were, her dark eyes fixed on the two of you.

"Geralt, my love. There are people that would like to meet you. Am I interrupting something?" Yennefer was almost glaring at you, and Geralt cleared his throat, rather loudly, as he stepped up from the rock he was sitting next to you, and walked up to her, taking her hand in his.

"No, I thought something was wrong. Just wanted to make sure—" Geralt turned towards you, "— that everything was fine. Cliffs can be .. dangerous at night."

You pursed your lips, your eyes falling to their entwined hands, and when you looked back up again, you saw the sorceress regard you with a tiny smirk egging against her lips.

"Yes, Witcher, everything's fine, I don't need you following me around like I will need help all the time," Bitterness laced your words, and you swear you saw a look of hurt flash in his eyes just for a second before the usual broody look took over and he regarded you once more before the two of them turned around and started walking away.

Well done, [Y/N]. You frowned as you kept watching them walk away, Geralt's arm wrapped around Yennefer's waist, her head resting against his bicep.

The Vessel Taglist:

@kawennote09 @viking-raider @raspberrydreamclouds @pterodactylterrace @singeramg @historianwithaheart @miss-emilia-cavill @ayamenimthiriel @crazynocturnalkiki @xxxkatxo @coffeebreathy @fanaticnae @kmuir1 @little-jana @pineapplemama @auds24 @sassy-pelican @bitchynicole @cavillsim @ragamuffin285 @hista-girl @oliviali0930 @introvertedmouse @madbaddic7ed @libbymouse @nerra75 @maxineswritingcenter @superawesomegeek @waifu4lifeu @funalpaca

Want to be added to the list? Plz let me know via my ask box, inbox or comments. ✨

P.S There are a few blogs I'm unable to tag for some reason. Many apologies for that. 🥺🤍

[babylooneytoonz]

Defender - Geralt of Rivia x Fem! Reader

Summary: The first time Geralt sees you, you are defending someone else's honor. He likes it secretly but doesn't say anything. The second time he sees you, you are defending his honor, and he can't help but finally decide to talk to you.

Warnings: Just some fluff I wanted to try my hand at, and a lot of language warnings [Explicit language]

[ My Masterlist ]

It wasn't unusual at this point of the hour for the pitchers of ale to keep overflowing as villagers prefered more ale than bread— your own bread lay untouched on the table in front of you, but the pitcher of ale was empty, not a drop of ale left for you to swallow.

"More ale?" The bard joked, as he sat down in front of you, teasing you with his own pitcher of ale that was brimming full. You took a glance at it, licking your lips in excitement, before you ghosted a look at him and squinted your eyes, glancing at him.

"I prefer getting my own, bard." You gave him a smile, far from tight-lipped, but distant enough for him to understand that you were not looking for something more than friendship. He smiled, batting his lashes as he eyed you through his blue eyes and moved to the other end of the tavern where his white haired friend who didn't like being addressed as his friend sat, and he was immediately greeted by his trademark grunt.

"I saw it, Jaskier." Jaskier couldn't believe his eyes, the Witcher was indeed smirking at him, without even trying to mask it with a veil of impassivity.

"Saw what?" Jaskier asked, now curious, as he leaned forward, letting his elbow rest against the table and brought the pitcher up to his lips.

"The great bard gets rejected." Geralt said in a low voice, his words ending with an amused scoff from his end and Jaskier opened his mouth, his jaw almost dropping.

"That wasn't— that wasn't rejection. I didn't even attempt anything with her yet." The bard protested, and Geralt nodded, amused as he brought up his drink to his lips and downed the contents of it in one go.

"Right, Jaskier. Shall we move on?" Geralt didn't even try to hide the amusement that he was feeling, feeling even more amused at the way the bard was handling the rejection, or whatever it was. But the fun was over for the night, and the two had to make a move as they had to get to the next city by before dawn.

The two of them tumbled out of the tavern, more like the bard did, swaying to his right and left as he sang a song that was now beginning to bring Geralt back into the sour mood he always was in, but he chose not to comment on it. This was more so because his eyes were fixed on a timid boy, not more than fifteen perhaps, as a man thrice his age stood towering over him, writhing in rage as he screamed at him, chastising him.

"Is that the kind of hay you decide to feed my steed? I paid you a satchel full of coin for this? Give it back, I say." Geralt was sure that the man was drunk, and this was one of the things he absolutely detested amongst the humans, the things they did under the spell of their drunkenness.

"But, this — this is the best hay we've got. What more can I possibly —" The boy tried to rationalize with him but Geralt could see it that the man was far from understanding. He thought of intervening, but then, he didn't want to start another fight. And then, there was the fact that they had to be in the next village by dawn or else someone else will put their hands on his bounty.

"You think you are going to get away with this, lad? I'm going to make sure you get thrown out. You don't deserve a single shilling—"

Geralt's eyes shone with a sudden anger, his nose twitching as he took a step towards the man the minute he grabbed the boy from his collar and yanked him away. However, before he could teach him a lesson, someone else had beat him to it.

"What do you think you are doing?" You stepped in at the exact same time, grabbing the man's beefy paw that held on to the scared boy's collar, your nails digging into his flesh that forced him to draw his palm away.

"This is none of your business, whore. Why don't you go back in and look for men who are actually interested in you?"

The look that you gave him was like death, your eyes narrowed dangerously as you began literally barking out at him.

"If you really cared about that steed, you would have stayed to ensure what he was being fed, but why would you? You were more interested in fillin' up that humongous belly with more ale. Trust me, that tunic looks like it won't be able to contain that belly much longer."

Geralt couldn't help but give you a side smirk as he moved on to pull Roach out of the stables, his back now turned towards the conversation that was playing out behind him. The boy had managed to escape and he rushed towards Geralt to assist him with bringing the mare out but Geralt stopped him, handing him another ten coins from his pouch.

"It's okay, boy. Go on home and have a nice supper tonight. You've earned it." The boy smiled wide, quickly pocketing the extra ten that he had earned, his excitement evident from the flicker in his eyes. He was about to run off when Geralt grabbed his arm lightly that forced him to turn back and look up at the white haired man. "Who's that, boy?" He asked, pointing towards you.

"That's [Y/N], the blacksmith's daughter. Her father's one of the best around here in Temeria."

"Hm," He watched as the boy scampered off, and he began walking away towards where Jaskier was already waiting for him, by the road, holding Roach's reins in his hands, when your voice reached his ears again, forcing his attention towards it.

"There you go. That's what you paid the poor boy, didn't you? Five coins? There's six in there. I added one extra. Now fuck off, and don't show your face around here, or the next time, I'm going to ask father to have your head with the next sword he makes."

Geralt turned around, watching as the grumbling man left, but you kept standing your ground, watching him until he was out of sight. You turned slightly, and your eyes met the Witcher's, as he was walking away, before you walked off again, paying no heed to him whatsoever.

"What took you so long?" Jaskier chirped, his lute held protectively at his chest like a cradled baby.

"Roach got a little too comfortable." Geralt replied, stroking the mare's side as the two started walking down the road that led to the outskirts of the village and Roach whinnied in protest, bumping her head against Geralt's side as if in her own language trying to tell Jaskier how blatantly the Witcher had lied and put the blame on her— a poor animal that couldn't speak.

"Are we going through Temeria again?" Jaskier asked as the two of them entered the familiar city of Brugge again, just after a span of ten days. Both the men were covered in gore, but Geralt didn't seem to care. And Jaskier, he was too enraptured in watching the Witcher strike the Harpy right through her heart to even protest.

"Yes, Jaskier. I would really like a bath, I don't know about you." Geralt grumbled, in his low, brooding voice and the bard chuckled.

"What are you insinuating? You could have just asked if you wanted me to rub soap on your lovely bottom."

"Jaskier—" Geralt's dry warning was enough for the bard to shut up, only for a few seconds before he started blabbering on another topic instead. But lucky for Geralt, he had learnt by now the art of tuning out the bard when he really didn't want a headache.

The two of them entered the tavern, but Geralt frowned when they were not greeted by the ignorance that they had been greeted with here the last time he had stepped into this city. He frowned, pinching the bridge of his nose as he began to walk up to the owner of the tavern when three villagers stumbled towards him, blocking his way.

"What the fuck is your kind doing here again, eh? And fuck, you smell like shit."

The men sized up to the Witcher, glaring him in the eye. Maybe they were the dumbest people you had ever seen, from the corner where where you were sitting at, watching the scene unfurl, or maybe they were just too drunk to realise that the Witcher could snap their heads like a twig of a branch. And no one would even shed a tear for them. And rather, would be celebrating at the riddance the Witcher would have given them.

"Oh we don't mean any harm, we are just looking for rooms." Jaskier had only begin speaking, when one of the men cut him off.

"Brugge has no rooms to offer this mutant son of a bitch."

Geralt growled, his eyes sparkling underneath the lighting of the tavern, and eyed the other villagers looking at them, waiting for the Butcher of Blaviken to strike.

"Let's go Jaskier."

"But Ger—"

"I said let's go." The Witcher turned around, leaving behind him a patch of Harpy blood where he just stood seconds back, but someone grabbed his wrist.

"Jaskier, can you—"

Geralt snapped, ready to jerk his arm away and he angrily turned towards the bard only to realize that he was too far from him to have held his hand. His eyes fell to his wrist, noting the feminine hand that held him, fearlessly. He looked up to realize that it was you, [Y/N], the big mouthed, yet intriguing Ironsmith's daughter.

"Who decides that? The two of you? When you can't even see that you've so clearly pissed your pants?" Your bold words caused a sudden ripple of laughter to emerge through the crowd and the spectators who were just sitting a few minutes back watching the drama unfurl. This was the ficklemindedness of the human race, and wherever Geralt went, this ficklemindedness followed him. It was when a chuckle erupted from beside him from Jaskier that he realized that he had zoned out. The two men in their drunken state had indeed pissed their pants when they had been speaking to Geralt. Their faces turned a bright crimson, partly with rage, and partly with embarassment as they darted out of the tavern.

You let go off Geralt's wrist, slowly turning to him with a faint smile playing against your lips and nodded before you turned towards the owner, "Two rooms, Thiagu, on me. Can you get someone to draw their baths?"

"You don't have to be everyone's savior." Geralt finally spoke, breaking the silence between the two. You lowered your head, just to regard him better before your lips contorted into a jolly smile and you shook your head, "So you've heard about my tales. You can ask your friend to write a song on me." The two of you gave the bard a look who was already being escorted by the owener towards one of the rooms, as Geralt grunted.

"Your blood must be thicker than the rest, men seem to piss in their pants at the sight of you." He commented, and you couldn't help but snort this time.

"Nah, Witcher, that must be you. The saviour of the human race, the slayer of monsters and the man that makes another man piss their pants."

Before Geralt could come up with a reply, the owner of the tavern called out, informing the two that the room was ready and a bath for Geralt had been drawn.

"Well, Witcher. That's your cue. And mine as well. I've got to resume my nightly watch, you never know who might need me to save their honor."

You smiled, noticing how Geralt's eyes flew from your eyes to your lips, just for a split second before they fixed on your orbs once again. The Witcher smiled, and he swore to the Gods, if Jaskier had been around, he would have written a song on it, how a woman was able to make the brooding Witcher smile.

"If you need a new sword, or a new dagger, you know where to find the blacksmith, that's where you will find me." You smiled, unbeknownst to you that Geralt already knew who you were.

He was going to get a new dagger maybe, not because he needed one, but because Jaskier could use one, and then there was the fact that he was already looking forward to seeing you again.

"I'll take your leave now, Geralt. You really do need that bath." You winked, bowing in a dramatic way as you began taking slow backward strides towards the exit of the tavern and he kept looking at you, his mouth curved into a side smirk.

Before the next second, you were out of sight, and Geralt walked up the flight of stairs, following the owner of the tavern, and all he thought of was that he needed to convince Jaskier on how he needed to keep a dagger on him, for safety and protection.

A/N - Ugh, well. I was gone for a while, but I thought I would write something and it's been ages. This is my first Geralt of Rivia work, and I would really love some feedback so I can aim to write more for this fandom in the future. 💗