#Jaskier One Shot

[justanoasisimagines]

Blurb #1

A/N; Requests are open! May write the love letter to this in the future if people are interested. Credit to @cafekitsune for the banner and the divider

Jaskier considered himself a romance expert He knew how to flirt and charm his way with anyone. He could sing and strum a beautiful melody and people would swoon. However, all of his usual charm seemed to fall flat on you. Nothing appeared to be working. Which Jaskier found rather odd. He'd become enamored by you from the moment he'd met you.

You were contagious and our laughter was brighter than any sun he'd ever seen. You were kind and resourceful and the most talented musician. Jaskier had come to understand this was more than some crush, he'd felt for you. He believed he was falling in love with you.

Which is why he wanted to get your attention. If none of his usual tricks would work perhaps it was time for Jaskier to truly think from his heart. So he began to brainstorm.

Jaskier enjoyed the challenge whether it was writing a piece of music or struggling to find the right word or perhaps a cord doesn't sound right. Jaskier could admit this had to be one of the most challenging things he'd ever found himself doing.

He thought of attempting to make some large grand gesture. Yet you didn't appear to be the type. Or perhaps some flowers? However, Jaskier believed he could do better. He could just come right out and tell you, but Jaskier was aware of his reputation.

He didn't want you to believe his words didn't have truth behind them. he wanted his intentions to be clear. He was serious about you. Like nothing he'd ever felt before. It was beautiful and terrifying.

in the end, Jaskier decided to write you a love letter. A letter so powerful and poetic, you'd allow him to capture your heart as you had his.

[multifandomfix]

Pages Of The Heart - Jaskier

Summary: Though you are a soon to be wed noble, a bard who plays at the announcement of your engagement captures your heart. But is this just a passing fancy? You must decide if you will risk everything to be with him.

Word Count: 1,257

Warnings: Implied smut, tiny bit of angst

Despite the joy and merriment that filled the ballroom, the celebration announcing your engagement was a drab, melancholy sort of affair for you. You’d been saddled to a man that was over twice your age, several times widowed and about as lively as a wooden board. He carried a sizable fortune and offered certain political advantages that your parents had prioritized over your happiness.

The music, at least, provided you with some entertainment. The musician made his way around the room, playing tunes unfamiliar to you. Original works, you assumed. A true creative type. You could have bet money that your betrothed couldn’t write a two line poem should his life have depended upon it. As the musician circled the crowd, you could tell he was the absolute life and soul of the party. You’d be much happier if you even possessed an ounce of his contagiously bright energy.

When he finally stopped in front of you and your betrothed, he gave you a nod and a wink that you could have swore was flirtatious in nature. And, perhaps against your better judgement, you let yourself be charmed. He was young, handsome and charismatic, so why not let yourself have a little enjoyment in this otherwise miserable arrangement?

As the party wound down, the music exchanged in favor of conversation, you found yourself listless, and in desperate need of an escape. So, scanning the crowd, you found your bard as he slipped out of the main ballroom, no doubt having collected his coin for his performance and ready to set out for places far from here. Oh how you wish you could live a life like you imagined he did; free to roam and bring happiness to others.

You politely excused yourself as well, hoping to get one last look at the dashing bard before he disappeared from your life for good, maybe even get a word with him, tell him how much you appreciated his performance. But when you got to the hallway, he was nowhere in sight. Sighing, you made your way down to the library, your favorite part of the illustrious castle you’d grown up in. You could have easily spent your life as a scribe if given the chance. It may be a quiet life, but you could read, experience new worlds and share those worlds with others.

You picked a book from the shelf, one of your favorites, as was evident by the lack of dust on the top of its pages and its spine. Yet it wasn’t as you had left it. It bore an unfamiliar marker between its pages, so naturally, you flipped to it to investigate. It was a piece of folded parchment. You unfolded it to read the message within.

My dear royal heir, I could not help but notice your sad eyes on what should be a happy day. I hope I am right in leaving this here that you will smile at reading that I wish you all of life's little happinesses. Your bard, Jaskier.

He’d been here. You wondered if he still was. The library was not a small one, so you supposed it possible that your bard, Jaskier, may still be hiding among the stacks. Did he wish for you to find him, or was this all a silly little game you’d made up in your head in hopes that one last adventure could soothe your troubled soul? Only one way to find out.

You crept around as quietly as you could in search of him, stopping at the locations where all your favorite books resided, hoping he’d seen the similar pattern of the lack of dust as you had. Finally, you found another clue. Another one of your favorites contained one of Jaskier's notes.

Closer, fair noble. One could turn and come face to face with the object of their desire. Choose wisely. I’ll give you a moment to decide. Say no, and I will leave, but turn, and I shall offer you a gift. — Jaskier.

Perhaps you should have been frightened. You weren’t, however. Some part of you innately trusted him. You believed he would not seek to deceive you. You’d known too many that had tried, and had learned what to expect from such tricksters. So, decision made, you turned.

Jaskier stood before you now, though how he had gotten there without you hearing a thing was something of a miracle. In his hand he offered an opal ring. Where he’d come to possess such a thing was anyone's guess. He saw your skeptical look, and decided to explain. "One of your other nobles bestowed this upon me as a tip, and I could only think of how such a beautiful piece should only be worn by one who matched its beauty, and I don’t think it’s quite my style. Perhaps it is yours?"

You smiled, and to Jaskier it was a vision in the darkness of the library, lighting up the small space between you in the big room. Taking that as your own form of acceptance, he gently reached for your hand and slipped the ring onto your finger.

"Jaskier," you stumbled, barely getting his name to pass your lips. You were shaking with nerves. But here, alone with him, was an opportunity you may never see again. He was but a stranger, yet you could not shake the feeling that he was the man that was meant for you. "Will you stay here with me? I have neither the wish nor the will to go back to the festivities, nor to the man that has been chosen for me. I cannot give myself to him, but I would give my heart and my body freely if it were you."

Surprised at your words, Jaskier needed a moment to know how to respond. It’s not as if he hadn’t had his fair share of offers of this nature, but you seemed in a potentially fragile state, and he did not wish to take advantage. "I should not wish to impose myself upon you."

"You are not imposing when it is I who have asked," you told him. True enough, he surmised. "Lay with me. Right here. It is one place I know we shan’t be found."

And he did. He laid his coat down on the floor, providing some barrier between you and the hard, old, wooden floors that lie beneath. He touched and kissed you with a tenderness you knew you would never be granted with anyone else. You undressed one another, bodies now lit by only the moonlight and you made love. You knew if you kept the life laid out for you, that this would be the one memory you held onto to get yourself through it. Here, in Jaskier's arms was as free as you’d ever feel again.

"Run away with me," he said, the back of his hand running up and down your side, feeling the curves of your body.

"I can’t, I couldn’t," you replied. But why couldn’t you?

"You can, if you let yourself," he informed. "We could travel, see the world. Judging by the books you’ve read, you seem to me like a traveler, so travel with me. I may not be a fighter, but I will always keep you safe. More importantly, happy."

It was in this moment that you realized he was right. There was nothing that would make you happier than escaping, seeing the world, and sharing it with Jaskier. "Alright," you agreed. "Let’s go see the world."

For anon

Forever Tag: @borg-queer, @ghostsunderstoodmysoul

Jaskier: @retvenkos, @dancingwith-sunflowers, @randomfandomimagine, @lettersoftroy, @dandycandy75, @kaiiromanoff, @rubyqueen819, @roxi-reid, @hc-geralt-23, @floresferae

[blog-of-a-multitude-of-fandoms]

Jealousy- Jaskier (2)

Pairing: Jaskier x Reader

Characters: Jaskier

Warnings: N/A

Request: Wattpad- Can you make a one shot where Jaskier and the reader had been best friends since they were children and then as they grow older, they start to develop feelings for each other. Though they’re too scared to admit it to each other. And then when Jaskier and Geralt became famous, the reader and Jaskier started to grow apart because Jaskier was really enjoying his fame. Then the reader started noticing Jaskier hanging out with lots of women so her feelings are starting to hurt. And then one day she catches Jaskier having “fun” *winkwink* with another woman. Then the reader becomes heartbroken and all kinds of stuff. Then you know, they’re gonna talk seriously then they kiss and admit their feelings ang stuff. Their history as childhood best friends is completely up to you. All I want is some jealousy and angst and fluff mwehehe (i like hurting my feelings a bit what can I say)

Word Count: 501

Author: Charlotte

You tried to reach the stairs and head down to the main floor of the inn, hoping to find a closet or any other secluded area to figure out what you were going to do now that you saw your best friend in a compromising situation. You struggled to reach the end of the hallway before you were stopped by someone’s hand grabbing hold of your wrist.

You feared turning around to see who it was but when you heard the familiar voice say your name, you couldn’t stop turning back to see your best friend.

Jaskier’s face was almost as red as your own but unlike you, he wasn’t dressed, instead only wrapped in a sheet that he had haphazardly thrown around himself.

“I’m sorry for intruding,” you said, your words bitter and pained, something that you had hoped would be hidden from him. “I didn’t know you had company.”

He sighed, running a hand through his dark tussled hair.

“Wait… why are you upset?” He asked.

You shook your head. “I’m not upset, why would I be upset?”

Jaskier looked over your expression. Normally he could read you like a book but currently you didn’t make any sense to him. He didn’t know if it had been because you had been apart for a while, but it was unknown to him what was going on with you.

“We’ve been friends for too long for you to pretend you’re okay,” he stated. “You’re my best friend, you can talk to me.”

“Maybe that’s the problem,” you snapped.

He cocked an eyebrow at you. “I don’t understand.”

“I love you Jaskier,” you huffed. “I think I always have, and I didn’t realise how much it was going to hurt to see you with another woman. I get it, we’re just friends but I didn’t think I was about to walk in and see you like that, and I didn’t even know you were with anyone.”

You didn’t think you’d say that you didn’t think you could even think that so coherently. The two of you stood in silence for a moment before he could fully understand what you had said to him.

“You love me?” He asked.

You let out a sigh. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

His hand moved down from your wrist to take your hand in his.

“No, you should have said something ages ago,” he said. “Y/N, I’ve been in love with you since we were kids. I just never thought I had a chance with you.”

“What?” You croaked. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Why didn’t you?”

You couldn’t help but smile at him, both of you having been daft for so many years.

“So, what does this mean?” You questioned.

“It means I need to go apologise a lot to the woman in my room and then we can continue this conversation when I am a little bit more clothed,” he offered.

You nodded your head. “That sounds like a plan.”

[princessaxoxo]

Angered Infatuation

Enemies to lovers

Geralt x reader 

Summary: Since the day you and Geralt met, the two of you couldn’t stand one another. But fate seemed to always bring you both together. One night at a feast, you both release the anger you share.

Word count: 1.9+

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ Only, rough unprotected sex (p in v), angst, fingering, cussing  

You’ve been the king’s royal advisor for the past few months, helping with decisions when needed and healing. Taking a walk through the village, you were on your way back but stopped short once you heard the words “ride, witcher, ride”. You could recognize the bard’s voice anywhere; walking into the tavern and playing his precious lute is Jaskier.

You watched and waited entertained as he sang, prancing around the tavern, infuriating the individuals. Their faces screwed up in annoyance, which had you in a fit of laughter. Once his last song ended, he gathered his lute and walked out the back door. You followed distantly behind him.

Sneaking up behind him, you tapped his left shoulder, making him jump in his shoes. “Why must you scare me each time we meet?” You chuckled, and the two of you went in for a hug. “I’ve missed you as well, Jaskier."

Out of all the places he could be, he was here, and you wondered why. “Jaskier, what brings you here?" His face instantly paled at the question. “Just passing through." He wasn’t telling you everything. His answer was partially truthful. You squinted your eyes at him, then looked over at the black horse next to him. You were trying to figure out why you had this sense of familiarity with the animal.

It clicked in your mind; the horse is roach, and you knew what that meant. “Only you? No companions?” You gave him a curious look, knowing the truth already. “Most certainly not,” he said, his face beginning to flush. "Jaskier, if it’s only you, then why is roach here?” he laughed awkwardly as his eyes looked past you.

Geralt’s husky voice rang through the air: “Jaskier, let’s go." You turned to face him. His white hair was pulled back, and his cloak covered the rest of him. His swords cross his back.

He felt your eyes on him. "Witcher," you remarked, dragging out the word. Geralt grumbled at the sound of your voice and choice of words. “Always a pleasure," he said sarcastically.

“What is your business here?” He turned towards you, giving you a brief overall look. He wasn't going to answer you; you would find out on your own later tonight.

Jaskier felt uncomfortable interrupting the stare-down, Geralt, and you were having “I know you two would adore to cut each other's heads off, but shall we go?" He chimed in.

Geralt got on his horse, and Jaskier grabbed his things. You watched as they both left. You found yourself wondering when you would see Geralt again and, in a sense, looking forward to it.

Both you and Geralt enjoyed the back-and-forth with each other; he found you infuriating, and you found him insufferable. It made the two of you hot, with significant sexual tension for one another.

The feast had begun, and you heard the music growing through the hallowed halls of the castle. Entering the great hall, you were surprised to see that Jaskier was providing the entertainment for tonight. The local villagers are drinking rich ale and laughing. "Y/f/n,” you heard the king call for you.

Walking over to him, you bowed, “My king.” He put his finger underneath your chin, making you look at him. His touch burned, and he disgusted you. You were hoping he couldn't tell by the look in your eyes.

“We have a special guest this evening; I would appreciate it if you’d accompany him." You smiled. “Of course, my king,” you said, making a come-here motion to the man you assumed he was speaking of.

Geralt spoke, “Thank you for having me.” His words were sour; you knew he wanted to be anywhere but here. He looked handsome; you never thought you would see Geralt dressed for such an occasion.

Geralt and you walked around the great hall without saying a word to each other. He walked away to receive some more ale, his long strides making it hard for you to keep up with him.

He leaned up against the wall. Geralt secretly liked this; knowing you had to stay with him, he decided he would make it hard on you. You were trying to appear calm, giving a proper smile to the villagers who passed by you.

However, you did want to kill him in front of everyone. A smile was on your face when you reached him. “Just because you’re an important guest tonight does not mean you get to disrespect me.” The response you received rattled you. He brought his drink to his lips, took a sip, and didn't say a word back.

Two drunken villagers began to brawl, making you turn your head toward the ruckus. It gave Geralt enough time to slip away from you. When you turned back, you huffed, realizing he had left. Your eyes were scanning the room for him, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Geralt watched you from afar, delighting in the joy of seeing you stressed. Once your eyes reached him, he raised his goblet at you.

Geralt found his way into the halls of the castle, and you started taking long strides to get to him. “I have had it with you this evening,” you said. “You look lovely, y/f/n," he replied. His eyes were on your gown; you inspected it to see if anything got on it, and he was being funny. But it looked exquisite, just as it had earlier that night.

He continued to walk, going into the dark spots of the halls. No one was here but us; everyone had gathered for the feast. You grabbed him by his arm, which stopped him. He looked down at your hand, then to your eyes, to tell you to let go of him.

The look in his eyes and face became serious. “Last time we saw each other, you were trying to kill me with that pathetic chaos of yours; that’s what you mages call it, correct?” You snarled at him, “Yes, and you as well were trying to kill me. It seems we have one thing in common."

“Don’t be modest; you know we have more in common than that.” He became closer. “Whether you want to admit it or not, our bickering, this back and forth, you like this just as much as I do."

“Why would I enjoy this?” His yellow eyes seemed to have darkened in this light. “The simple reason? It makes you want me even more."

“I would know because I feel the same way.” His confession gave you a shiver.

Goosebumps appeared on your skin, and he moved the hair from your shoulder, touching your neck. Geralt could tell your heart was accelerating; his heart was calm as always. Never wavering from its steady beat.

He moved his large hand to your hair, grabbing a hold. “Tell me you don’t want me, y/f/n, and I'll let you go and walk back to the great hall,” he growled. “Do it,” you simply said, and he roughly brought his lips to yours. His moves were so aggressive that you thought your lips would tear.

The two of you found the way to your bed chambers, ripping your dress from behind. He pushed you down on your bed, tearing off your undergarments. You tried taking off his clothing, but he didn’t allow that.

Geralt didn't care if another man had made you feel good, if another man had touched you, or if you'd even seen another man naked. He was far more interested in pouring out all the anger he felt for you tonight.

You raised the front half of your body to get a better look at him.

His body in its pure form was godly, and his muscular arms had faded scars enclosing them. You wanted them to suffocate you in the best way possible. His thighs, which were buff, looked delicious. And his cock, which was upright and standing against his stomach, had a pink tip. It made you drool; you licked your lips thoughtlessly.

He stalked toward you, smoothing his rough, large hands up your legs and thighs.

You looked into his eyes, waiting for his next move. He moved downward, lifting your legs near your head, and took a long lick from your ass to the top of your pussy. His tongue was glorious, moving diligently against your clit.

He directed his left hand to your pussy moving his fingers between your folds. He entered two of his thick fingers into you roughly and expeditiously.

You looked at him, his yellow eyes pouring into you. It didn't take long for your thighs to begin to shake, and you felt yourself coming. 

He raised his head, his mouth glistening from your juices. 

His hand wrapped around your small neck, pushing you down, taking out his digits, spreading you apart with his large girth, and slamming into your cunt.

The feel of his large hand around your neck made you wetter. As you wrapped your small hand around his "harder,” you saw a bit of shock in his eyes. He tightened his hold, your legs wrapped around his body, his medallion swinging over you as his movement fasted, and his hips slammed into you harshly.

“Ah fuck,” you dug your fingernails into his back, making him grunt out. He moved his thumb, smoothing over your bottom lip, and went to grip your jaw, his mouth moving brutally over yours.

The selfishness of him and keeping you down made your anger resurface; you flipped the both of you. He tried reaching for you, but you pushed him back down onto the mattress.

Your hips began to move on his cock; he dug his nails into the sides of your hips. You knew you would have bruises in the morning. “You ride this cock so fucking well," he praised you.

His hands reached up and fondled your breasts. He wrapped an arm around your back to hold you in place as he circled your nipple with his tongue, pinching the other one. You threw your head back in pleasure.

“Stay still,” he growled as he held your hips in place and pounded into you at an accelerated pace. “Yes, Geralt, yes."

Hearing his name fall from your lips made him rigid. “I’m going to make you full of my cum; that’ll be the only thing left of you.” You started to bounce on his cock savagely.

“Just like that, bouncing on my cock beautifully,” his encourging, husky voice brought you closer to your orgasm. You pulled at his roots, kissing him deeply and sucking on his tongue.

He put you on your back again, turning and pushing your face into the pillows. Your loud moans were covered. Your thighs began to shake, and he felt them, “Yes, come all over my cock.” You called out Geralt's name, your orgasm hitting hard, your head dizzy as you saw stars in your vision.

With a few more snaps of his hips, Geralt exploded inside of you, pulling his cock out and a few more spurts of his cum landed on your stomach. He watched as you swiped a finger through and licked his cum off.

He clenched his jaw. “On your hands and knees now,” you challenged him in ways no one had. It made him loathe you and love you at the same time. He planned to show you that for the rest of the night.

[write-ur-wrongs]

Stayaway

In an attempt to get out of funk, here is a very short, not edited, written-directly-into-tumblr, song-inspired grealt x reader fic. Inspired by Stayaway by MUNA (the best band in the world, begging y'all to listen to their music you will be forever changed!!).

*********

"Come on! I know you're home, I followed you!"

The bard was yelling and banging on your door incessantly and you knew you had to answer eventually. The bastard followed you home after all, he knows where you live.

"I'm not home!" you shouted back, delusional.

"Y/N! I may be a fool but I'm not stupid," he replied, and you could hear the familiar smile pulling at his lips, "Now open up! The door and your heart!"

"Jask," you sighed, laughing despite yourself at his poetic antics, "go away!"

"No! I miss you!"

"I'm not home!" you tried again, will wavering.

"Y/N!" he pleaded, and you swore you could hear half that cursed smile pull down into a pout.

You rested your forehead against the door and bit your lip, debating. All the while, your hand betrayed you, reached for the doorknob and turned it open.

Before you knew it, you were face to face with an old friend and while the sight of him filled you with joy, you were also flooded with other, less welcome feelings of remembrance.

"Y/N!" he exclaimed, pushing himself into your home and saving you from dwelling on the heavy memories that tried to creep up over you. "You're home, what are the odds?"

"Hilarious as always, Jaskier," you said, closing the door behind him. "What brings you to my little hamlet?"

"Fate, chance, what have you," he said, his cheery demeanor working overtime to cover for his abject curiosity, "The sea called and I had to answer. You know how it is."

"I do, do I?"

"Don't you? I mean you just disappeared... I assumed something called and you, you know, answered?" His tone stayed light, the practiced levity of someone who's spent years buttering people up for information all while staying neutral.

"I guess..." you bit your cheek, busying yourself by playing hostess, and pouring you both a glass of wine, "things changed and I thought, 'hell, why not change too?'"

"Fair enough... oh thank you."

"Of course," you said, taking a sip of wine yourself before guiding you both towards your couch, "but seriously Jaskier, why are you here?"

"Seriously? I was just passing through on my way to Oxenfurt when I saw a familiar face. A face I thought I'd never see again..."

You looked up from your glass then, but immediately regretted it when you met the bard's earnest gaze.

"Yennefer thought she saw you in Novigrad a while back but then... nothing. We thought you were gone for good."

"Jaskier, come on," you pleaded, praying he wouldn't elaborate on who 'we' entailed, while another, less disciplined part of you hoped for the opposite. Maybe if you knew he missed you, maybe if you knew he was looking for you... maybe you could let yourself be found.

No!

"Don't shake your head at me, Y/N. You disappear from the city, you quit your job, no one has seen you at the pub, the library - anywhere!"

"I- I know... but Jask," you stammered, trying to start three sentences at once and fumbling them all.

"I mean, you loved your job, didn't you? And what about us?" he asked, voice cracking slightly. "Gods, was the breakup that bad?"

"The thing is, Jask," you sputtered between large sips of wine, "It wasn't. It was easy, actually. He did what he always does when we fight; scowl, shut down, turn away, and then take it out on our friends. The break was clean."

"If it was so clean, then why did you leave?"

"It's the rest of it! The, the staying away that was, is impossible. If I had stayed and kept going it out with you guys, we'd drink and dance and I'd wonder where he is. Or one moment I'd be at the library studying and the next, Yen be asking me about the breakup and trying to 'cheer' me up by bringing up the good times and next thing you know? I'm answering the door for him when he rolls back into town injured and brooding. I couldn't stand it! I- I couldn't risk it."

"That's -"

"Pathetic? I know."

"No! No, but if there were so many good times, so many reasons to go back then why not-"

"Damn it, Jaskier! This is why I had to leave." You said, gesturing between the two of you before dropping your hand on your lap with a smack. "If I let him back in, then he's not the man who broke my heart anymore. Not the one who told me I was overemotional for being worried when he'd disappear for months. Suddenly everything is fine... until it's not and I'm hurt and alone again."

You felt tears begin to prick the back of your eyes and shoved the heel of your palms into them to force them down.

"Hey... Y/N," Jaskier said, gently pulling your hands away from your eyes and taking them in his. "I'm sorry, I didn't know..."

"It's okay," you said, giving your friends hands a squeeze and looking up to the ceiling, letting your tears fall for a moment, "I'm okay."

"Y/N..."

"Oh alright, but I'll be okay," you amended, laughing at yourself lightly and wiping the tears away. "Jaskier, don't look so sad. I just need time, space, distance... I will be fine."

Your words had little effect on your friend though, who seemed to grow more anxious and sad with every passing moment. You quirked your brow at him and shoved his shoulder playfully, trying to break the mood.

"Jaskier, will you relax?" you asked, desperate to get him to smile now. You really had missed Jaskier and now that he was here, you realized how much you wanted him to stick around.

"Y/N, I'm really sorry." He whispered, refusing to meet your gaze.

You were about to try another lighthearted quip when you heard a knock at your door. Not someone knocking, just a knock. One quick but deliberate rap.

"Who...?" you heard yourself asking, even though you only ever knew one person who knocked on doors like that.

"Y/N, I'm so so sorry," Jaskier kept repeating. "I really didn't know. I never would have told him if I'd known."

Your mouth was bone dry but you couldn't get your hand to reach for your glass of wine. You just kept staring at Jaskier, watching him babble.

"I'll go tell him to leave, Y/N, I'm so sorry," you heard him say, his voice barely registering over the ringing in your ears.

You felt him get up off the couch, your blurred vision registering the now empty spot on the couch only after you heard your door be pulled open.

Every fiber of your being was on fire. You were frozen. You wanted to throw yourself on the floor. You wanted to run to him.

"Y/N..." you heard him say. Fuck he sounded sad. You wanted to hold him, tell him it'll be okay. You wanted to slam the door in his face. You forgive him. You'll never forgive yourself.

Against your better judgement, you felt yourself to turn look towards the front door and your breath caught when you saw him.

Gods above, you thought, he should have stayed away.

[geraskierfanficprompts]

When Jaskier's angry or upset, it's always "Don't touch me!" "Get away!" "Hands off!" And then the bard will be gone for hours or days until he calms down.

Now, Geralt understands this kind of reaction. He himself doesn't want to talk to/be around others when he's angry. Much less let anyone touch him. The thing is...Jaskier acting that way never fails to make Geralt feel like shit. Jaskier is usually so affectionate that the sudden cut off is jarring. The first few times it happened, Geralt had been sure that Jaskier was fed up with him and leaving for good.

However, Jaskier always returns. They make amends, and the bard resumes his touchy, affectionate ways.

One day though, they have their worst argument yet. And although he had always come back before, Geralt is certain that this is the time Jaskier will leave forever. If Jaskier walks out that door, Geralt is sure he will never see him again.

So, unthinkingly, Geralt catches the bard's wrist.

Jaskier's eyes widen, panic replaces anger. "Geralt! Let me go! Let me go right now!"

Geralt loosens his grip reflexively in response to Jaskier's panic. Did the bard think the witcher would force him to stay?

He opens his mouth to try to explain.

Only, the world is...spinning? And Geralt's tongue is heavy. And everything is warm. Oh, he feels like he’s going to hurl.

Then, he passes out.

An unknown amount of time later, Geralt wakes. He feels kind of hungover but is otherwise fine. To his relief, Jaskier is sitting at his bedside.

When the bard notices Geralt is awake, he inquires after his health. At Geralt's reassurance that he is fine, Jaskier launched into a tirade about the number of times he had told Geralt "NOT TO TOUCH ME WHEN I’M MAD! AND THAT INCLUDES RIGHT NOW, YOU SCARED ME HALF TO DEATH, YOU BASTARD!!!"

Geralt is a bit confused about how Jaskier being mad and his fainting spell are connected.

Two things are revealed:

1) Jaskier is part fae.

2) Some fae become toxic to touch when they are angry or upset. It is a magical trait, so it fades when the anger does. However, it can still be deadly.

This puts some things into perspective. Like how Jaskier, who seems to feel entitled to his emotions/reactions no matter how inappropriate they may be, is very skilled at cooling his temper. Or how, when he does become angry, he chooses verbal slander over physical violence. Or how when there IS a physical fight Jaskier wraps his hands in cloth and tries to use blunt instruments.

Bonus: Geralt tells all of the witchers not to touch Jaskier when he's mad, and Lambert takes that as a challenge.

I LOVE THIS!!!!!! OH MY GOODDDDDD!!! You take the things we spoke about and add onto it like putting glitter on a macaroni art craft, it's beautiful, It's so beautiful, oh my god! Poor Geralt thought his bard was leaving and poor Jaskier has to watch his stupid idiot Witcher touch him, gAH I love it! I want to read a 5k oneshot about it

[heffawhump]

Hey guys, here’s a preview of the next Situations chapter- unfortunately I may have to put it on hiatus for a while. I’ve got a big change in work scheduling coming up and a waning interest in DiD (this does not mean I will not be back to it, I can guarantee this fixation will come back like a boomerang as soon as the second season hits) Thank you guys so much for sticking with me, and sorry if you’re still here when my obsession with the bard from the Witcher rears it’s ugly head again (probably soon depending on when Sirens of the Deep comes out)

Anyways enjoy- I’ll work on editing tomorrow

Also I do have all of your prompts (and who and where from) written down, I will not forget them!!!

[essskel]

Dandelion, Jaskier, Julian, Viscount, Bard, Academic, Poet, Scoundrel, Romantic, Friend, Friend, Friend -

So many people to meet, so many books to read, so many songs to sing! There'll never be enough time! It's not fair. I would have liked it to be a little bit longer.

pt 5 of my hansa series - pt 1: Milva, pt 2: Angoulême, pt 3: Regis, pt 4: Cahir

[medusapelagia]

One shots

🥨 Raisins and nuts Stommy | rated T | 1,856 words

🎁 Christmas 1985 Harringrove | rated T | 2,273 words

🧜‍♂️ What love feel like Harringrove | rated T | 1,432 words

💋 Girl's night Harringrove genderbend | rated E | 6,444 words

🦈 One breathe away Harringrove | rated E | 11,149 words

✏️ Learning to Love Harringrove | rated M | 7,094 words

🏞️ Perfectly Misaligned Harringrove | rated T | 6,859 words

🦇 Dark Weeping Angel Steddie | rated M | 1,571 words

 💝 I'll chew you up and I'll spit you out ('Cause that's what young love is all about) Stason | rated E | 9,864 words

🔫 Family Dinner Geraskier | rated M | 1,167 words

🧛‍♂️ Black and Gold Steddie | rated M | 10,762 words

🧜‍♂️ The restless sea calls back to you Harringrove | rated E | 15,156 words

🖥️ Lay down this armour Harringrove | rated E | 13,853 words

🎅🏼Give your all to me, I'll give my all to you Steddie | rated E | 12,569 words

💆You're the home my heart searched for so longSteddie | rated E | 15,744 words

🎄Christmas Gift 2023 - a series of one shots written for my friends Steddie - Harringrove - Stommy

🍾 The bachelor party Steddie | rated M | 1,825 words

😭 Sorrow Harringrove | rated M | 838 words

🍀 My lucky charm Steddie | rated E | 2,775 words

🎵 The Eras Tour Steddie | rated T | 407 words

✈️ Handcuffs Steddie | rated T | 1,916 words

🐕 The demon dog Metalsandwich | rated T | 5,720 words

🤬 Brother of my brother Steddie | rated T | 1,837 words

👻 An imaginary friend Steddie | rated M | 2,982 words

❤️‍🩹 I can’t pretend anymore Steddie | rated T | 931 words

🔪 Would you love me more (If I killed someone for you?) Geraskier | rated E | 5,771 words

🕺 For once in my life, let me get what I want Steddie | rated M | 6,335 words

👿 Guilty Steddie | rated E | 10,315 words

[fangirleaconmigo]

Geralt x Dandelion. They discuss Geralt’s age, tease each other, and flirt in a way unseemly for men of a certain age.

(I used Dandelion instead of Jaskier because I was possessed by the voice of book boy, but you can imagine whichever one you like)

Geralt gazed out over the valley. “It used to be marshland here. All swamps.” He pointed to the western horizon. “They didn’t build that temple until they ran out of space in the city center.”

Dandelion snorted.

“What?” Geralt cut his eyes at him, suspicious.

The poet squinted at the temple on the horizon. “Nothing. You just really are a little old man, aren’t you? A real grandpa, seeing everything around him as it used to be.”

Geralt smirked. “I am. I am very old, poet. Does that disturb you?”

Dandelion knew what he was thinking, but was too polite to say.

It didn’t seem to disturb you last night.

Dandelion figured he may as well say it for the both of them. He winked at Geralt, causing the witcher to roll his eyes. “Oh, here we go.”

The troubadour was not dissuaded. “Certainly, your advanced age did not disturb me last night when I was choking on your cock.”

Geralt hummed, smothering a smile. “You are appalling.”

“I merely spoke what you were thinking, witcher.” Dandelion let his hand come to rest comfortably on Geralt’s backside and gave it a squeeze.

Geralt would not yet honor him with a look. He maintained his gaze into the distance. “Would you still be pawing at me if I looked my age, Master Dandelion?”

“Oh, Geralt.” Dandelion draped himself over Geralt’s back, sighing in contentment as his chin came to rest on the big man’s shoulder. “You are gorgeous, I won’t deny it.” He kissed Geralt’s neck. Geralt pretended he did not notice it, but he hoped Dandelion would continue.

“But I am afraid,” Dandelion continued, as he snaked his arms around Geralt’s waist, “your noble character and sour brooding would have seduced me no matter your outer appearance.” He nipped at Geralt’s ear. This time Geralt sighed and let his head fall backwards, leaning comfortably onto his lover’s blonde tresses.

“Is that so?”

“Indeed it is. In fact, it is a good thing you look young, or I would have already been arrested and thrown in the stocks for grandpa fucking.”

It was Geralt’s turn to snort contemptuously.

“You would not.”

“I would. I would suck the freckles off your sagging, wrinkled-“

“No I mean,” Geralt laughed. “That’s not illegal. To fuck a grandpa.”

“It is so. I’d be on notices.” Dandelion swept his arm expansively to present an imaginary notice. “Master Dandelion. Wanted for disturbing the tranquility of the golden years of our local Witcher elder.”

Geralt reached back, lazily playing with Dandelion’s hair.

“You speak as though you are a young thing, yet I have heard that the students are calling you father Dandelion in private these days. You are a wise mentor figure to them.”

Dandelion scoffed. “They want me to be their papas alright.”

Geralt grimaced. “You are disgusting.”

“My darling,” teased Dandelion, “of the two of us, you are the father, if only because you behave as a priest would. Oh forgive me father, for my profanities.”

“I’ll forgive you your dirty mouth if you can put it to better use.”

Dandelion pulled away, turning Geralt to face him. Eyes glinting in amusement and face filled with fondness, he cradled Geralt’s face. Then he pushed up onto his toes and kissed him.

“Here?” Murmured Geralt into his lips. “There are people down in that valley.”

Dandelion reached for the ties of Geralt’s trousers. “Just close your eyes and pretend it’s swampland.”

[alaskanbby]

Hello and welcome to chapter 13 of my 16 part fic that's going to have taken I think about 3 years to finish lol, but never say I gave up! I hope everyone who is reading this fic enjoys the update, and to anyone new please please please mind the tags. This fic discusses heavy topics. But anyways New Chapter Up!!!

Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion

Summary:

Now it is becoming spring at the Keep, Jaskier is starting to improve but is also anxious about the impending journey down the mountain.

[icarustica]

77... geraskier <3

77 - "you were my best friend" - G rating, 900ish words, tw alcohol, angsty

♡♡ filing this under the "could've made it angstier" column lol but i didn't have any better ideas ♡♡

Somehow, Geralt had thought this would have gone better. He ran through the night in his head, an anxious, guilty tumble of hours. So many silent apologies. So many half-spoken, unsure ones.

Only one had counted.

The one Jaskier had accepted.

But Geralt was old enough to know that acceptance did not always mean forgiveness. And how could it be forgiveness, when Jaskier’s words were sharp like that? When he barely spoke at all?

But now they sat at the inn, and Jaskier’s hair was long and ruffled and no longer as blonde as it used to be, and his cheeks were stained like berries and he smelled of cheap wine and elderflower. He rubbed at his nose with one velvety sleeve.

Geralt took a long swig from his ale, trying not to listen too hard to the silence.

Perhaps I can live with this, he thought. This pantomime of our friendship. 

“Mmfh,” mumbled the tipsy Jaskier, sliding a shiny silver coin across the table.

Geralt stared at it. “What’s this?”

“For my drink. Drinks. Drinks,” he stressed.

Shaking his head with refusal, Geralt pushed it back across. “We share,” he said. “My coin is yours. Just like before.”

We share. Remember when we shared? I liked that.

“Oh, and I suppose mine is yours?” mumbled Jaskier, fiddling with the coin, flipping it onto its side. It wobbled between a crevice in the wood. 

Geralt frowned, swallowing. There was a pain in his chest like a large bird beating itself to death, or a starving cat crawling at the walls of his stomach.  “Well. No. Not if you don’t want it to be.”

“I don’t want it to be.” He flicked the coin, then pushed it across the table.

Geralt stared at it. It felt like a trick.

Jaskier swallowed the last of his wine. Cheap wine that Geralt had bought him - not even the expensive apple stuff he liked so much. And the coin was silver, embossed with the mark of Lyria, far from where Geralt thought Jaskier had traveled. He didn’t even know how much it was worth. Probably more than his entire coin purse.

“Jaskier.”

“Hm?” he said, looking up at him. But his affect was blank. His blue eyes, usually so full of light - dim. Disinterested.

Geralt’s chest ached. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

Jaskier’s eyes narrowed. “You said you needed me.”

“I do. I just–”

“Come on, Geralt. I’m not that thick. Whatever you need me for’s more important than my…” he smacked his lips, leaning back in the chair. “My idiotic pride.”

Geralt stared at him. At the worry lines around his mouth. The scar on his neck. The stubble that suited him. When did you become this?

“Geralt. If you’d like to stop gawking at me like a virgin in a whorehouse that’d be just dandy. I know the little kid bard has gone and grown up on you, but please, unless you’re going to shower me with compliments and flowers I’d tone down on the big-doe-eyes.”

“Would you like me to?”

The question shocked them both, but as Jaskier froze, still balancing back in his chair, Geralt straightened. 

He swallowed. “I know you haven’t forgiven me,” he said, voice low and full of barbs. He felt like crying out. He felt like kissing every part of Jaskier's hands, pressing I'm sorry into everything he'd failed to protect.

“I accepted your apology,” he retorted, indignant.

“You’re still angry.”

“I’m not.”

“You smell of it,” Geralt snapped back. Jaskier’s jaw set. 

His breath came short for a few long seconds, and the scent of it, metallic and sharp, filled the air. “Fine,” he said, leaning forward, snatching the coin from Geralt’s side of the table. He fiddled with it between his knuckles. “I am angry.”

Jaskier’s eyes flicked up, blue and imbued with hidden fire. “You were my best friend," he swallowed, long dark eyelashes fluttering for a second as he looked down at the coin between his fingers. “An apology and a drink won’t fix that.”

“I don’t know a lot about friendship,” Geralt started slowly. His mouth tasted like cotton and blood.

Jaskier scoffed.

“I know I don’t. But whatever I can do to–”

“Geralt,” Jaskier snapped, holding up a hand. “You aren’t hearing me. I’m not here because you were my friend,” he continued, nearly growling. “I’m here because right now you happen to be the most important man on the continent. And you need me.”

Despite the bustling of the inn, everything felt so silent. Like the very air was judging him, sizing him up for a flogging.

Jaskier laughed. “You need me. Do you know how ridiculous that is? The whole fucking time I went around, following you like a dog, and you never even wanted me.”

“I want you,” he said, the words torn from him.

But Jaskier didn’t hear them. He leaned forward across the oak table, wine and anger mingling with disappointment and wildflowers. “There was supposed to be a point, you know, where you actually wanted me in your life. Between when you hated me and when you needed me. When did you want me, Geralt?”

When I came back to Roach and your pack was gone. When I saw you’d taken the buttercup you’d tied into her mane. When I realized you had nothing, no-one, nobody to keep you safe. You might have died. And it could have been my fault.

“You were my best friend,” Jaskier repeated, breath ragged. His face was ruddy, his eyes shining as he sniffed, rubbing his sleeve under his nose again. “How the fuck could I ever believe that I was yours?”

[blog-of-a-multitude-of-fandoms]

Orphan- Jaskier

Pairing: Jaskier x Reader

Characters: Jaskier

Warnings: N/A

Request: Anon- Could I request Jaskier x reader with the prompts  “You want a family with me?”, please? Thanks so much!

Word Count: 424

Author: Charlotte

When Jaskier had asked for your hand, you were overjoyed that it was the start of something perfect for the two of you. It wasn’t the most convenient that he travelled with Geralt often, but you knew that soon enough he would be your husband and no matter the distance, the fact of your relationship would hold true. Normally you stayed home when he travelled but at the last moment, you decided to accompany him into the unknown. Once they neared their final location, he paid for a room in a local inn for you, insisting that you stayed in the village that they would return to in a couple of days at the latest once Geralt had finished his work. You weren’t a huge fan of being stuck out of the way whilst the man you loved was in the midst of danger, but it somehow paid off when you met Eira.

Eira was a young girl barely in her fifth year, long forgotten to her parents or any other family. She was dirty and hungry. You couldn’t think of leaving her as she had before; an innocent naïve child had no place out on the streets. Without a second thought, you invited her into your temporary home where you were able to bathe her and feed her the first meal she could remember. You bought her a fresh outfit from the market along with a doll to help occupy her whilst you tried to figure out what you could do.

The easiest option would have been leaving her to the orphanage, but they were already full to the brim, and it was hardly a home for any child. No one in the village knew the child beyond having seen her begging on the streets, having survived on not much more than scraps. By the time Jaskier returned to the inn, you had become fond of the girl, and she felt the same.

“I do not know what we should do,” you sighed. “I cannot in my right mind just abandon her to the streets or the orphanage.”

Jaskier paused for a moment. “We could adopt her?”

Part of you had hoped he’d suggest such a thing, but you never truly believed he would. You assumed at some point you would have a child with him, but you’d never discussed having a family.

“You want a family with me?” You asked, a fond smile curling onto your face.

Jaskier stepped closer to you, resting a gentle hand to your cheek. “More than anything.”

[flowercrown-bard]

Not That Sleepy

(arranged marriage au - part 12)

previous part / masterpost / ao3

word count: 6285

With the back of his hand, Geralt wiped the sweat from his brow, as he trudged through the halls. He could hear the chatter from the dining hall already. Even from this far away, it was grating on his nerves. With Jaskier helping out, Geralt didn’t have to work as much, so today had been a calmer day than the ones before. 

There was only one problem: Jaskier’s words, his touch, his care had left Geralt’s mind reeling. He had been unable to focus on anything, with Jaskier’s reassurance that he didn’t intend to slip into someone else’s bed and that he cared about Geralt’s happiness, running through his mind. There had been only one thing that had kept his mind at bay, stopping him from reliving that conversation over and over in his mind: Throwing himself into work more vigorously than ever. He had hauled brick after brick, as if it was the wall around his heart he was fixing and not the one beside the western gate. When the others had announced that they’d head off to dinner, Geralt had grunted something about wanting to finish the task today, and stayed behind. It was only partly to keep his mind from drifting. Another part of him hoped that if he finished fixing the wall today, he’d have more time to spend with Jaskier the day after. Which was a stupid thought, of course. Just because one task was done didn’t mean that he could suddenly sit idly by a fire. 

Even if at the moment he wanted nothing more than just that. Some peace and quiet to rest his mind and relax his aching muscles. But Jaskier was probably already at the bustling dining hall, waiting for him. Geralt hadn’t had much time to see him today, apart from meeting him at the stables. He’d have to brave the grating noise of his brothers if he wanted to spend some time with him. 

But first, he had to take a quick bath. He could be quick enough to be done in time to still get back to dinner. His strained muscles ached for the respite the hot water would bring and his nose twitched with the stench of horseshit and sweat clinging to him. He had to get it off now, then maybe, if he was lucky, Jaskier would allow him to curl up next to him beside a fire or on Jaskier’s favourite window sill at the library. It was that beautiful fantasy that spurred him on, hastening his steps down the stairs towards the hot springs. Going back to Jaskier quickly was better than spending an eternity in the springs, even if bathing was one of the few indulgences that Geralt normally allowed himself. There was nothing like sinking into the water and feeling the grime and tension of the day wash away. Nothing, except Jaskier’s blinding smile and soft touch of his hand.

The echo of his steps was so loud that he didn’t register the second heartbeat until he had almost rounded the corner revealing the springs.

When he finally did notice the presence of another person down here, he nearly turned around on the spot. But the heartbeat was too quick to belong to a witcher.

Geralt’s own heart picked up speed. With bated breath, he rounded the corner. He knew whom he would find. He expected it. Of course Jaskier knew that the hot springs existed. Aiden had shown them to him during his first week at the keep. This far, Geralt hadn't crossed his path yet, while bathing. He wasn't sure if that was because he was actively avoiding bathing with Jaskier or if Jaskier simply preferred being on his own while washing. Either way, Geralt had known that it was only a matter of time before they met down at the hot springs. 

Yet that knowledge had done nothing to prepare him for the sight that greeted him. 

Jaskier was kneeling at the edge of a pool, just shy of touching the water. His hair was curling at the tips, damp from the humid air. He must be feeling the heat rising up firm the pool, for his bare skin was glistening with sweat. 

Geralt swallowed thickly, his heart suddenly beating in his throat, as he realised that Jaskier had stripped down to his small clothes. 

He hadn't noticed Geralt yet, too focused on lighting dozens of candles all around the pools. His tongue was peeking through his lips in concentration, as he fumbled with the flint and steel to produce a spark. Geralt could only see his profile, the soft curve of his neck, dipped into warm light from the already burning candles. The flickering light of the candles caught on some glass vials sitting next to Jaskier's knees. Geralt tried very hard to concentrate on them to keep his eyes from straying towards Jaskier’s strong legs. 

Geralt was so caught off-guard by the sight of Jaskier, that it took him far too long to notice which pool he was sitting at. 

His pulse jumped and before he knew what he was doing, he was at Jaskier's side, pulling him away from the pool by the arm. 

“Don't go in there,” he said sharply. He could feel his pupils narrow into slits and his muscles tense, ready to protect his husband, if only from scalding hot water. 

At his sudden appearance, Jaskier let out a cut-off cry. Geralt’s heart dropped. Immediately, he let go of Jaskier and took a step back, holding his hands up. His eyes flickered down to where he had grabbed him too tightly in his rush to get him away from the water, dreading to see the beginning of bruises forming there. 

Ice gripped at his heart. He had scared Jaskier. Never in his life did he want to hear Jaskier scream like that again because of him. 

He had hurt Jaskier. 

“I’m sorry-” he began, but he was interrupted, when startled laughter tumbled from Jaskier’s lips. 

“You really need to stop sneaking up on me. I thought I had a little more time.”

Geralt’s hands flexed at his sides, unsure of what to do, whether it would be worse to leave or stay. 

“Should I leave you alone?”

“Don’t you dare!” Jaskier renewed his efforts to light up the last candles, fumbling even more in the process. “I didn’t spend forever making this place cosy for you just for you to leave.”

Geralt’s thoughts stopped abruptly, like a horse refusing to jump over a hurdle. 

“For me?”

“Of course for you.” Jaskier turned away from his task just for long enough to throw Geralt a wink. “As much as I love the fine things in life, it’s far too much effort to do something like that for myself.” “But - why do it now then?”

“Because you deserve some nice things and Lambert said you’d probably come down here before dinner and that you really liked bathing.” Jaskier faltered, his face doing something funny. “I swear, if he was making stuff up again and I lit these candles for nothing, I’ll -”

“He didn’t,” Geralt cut him off, “surprisingly.”

“Oh. Good.” Geralt knelt down next to Jaskier and gently placed his hand over Jaskier’s hand  still holding onto the candle. “Let me,” he said, keeping his eyes fixed on the wick, lest he see how close Jaskier’s face was to his. 

When Jaskier didn’t protest, Geralt used his other hand to cast the tiniest Igni, just enough to light the candle. 

“Thank you,” Jaskier whispered, his breath ghosting over the top of Geralt’s head. “I was supposed to do something good for you and now you’re helping me.”

“Are are good for -” Geralt cut himself off, feeling heat surge to his cheeks. Hastily, he corrected himself, “You are doing something good to me.”

He made sure Jaskier was still holding onto the candle tightly enough not to drop it, before letting go. A heavy silence settled over them, only interrupted by the bubbling of the water and the tiniest hiss of the candles. 

Geralt cleared his throat. “If you want to do this for yourself, you can always ask me to light the candles.” He tilted his head to the side, contemplating the flint and steel Jaskier had struggled with so much. “Or, you know, you could light one candle with that and then just use the flame to light all the other candles.” Jaskier’s face turned blank. Geralt could practically see the realisation of the unnecessary struggle he had put himself through. 

“No, I don’t think I will,” Jaskier said lightly. “The only reasonable course of action is to fling myself into the water and drown my shame. I can’t believe I used the stupid flint for every candle.” He hid his face in his hands with a groan. Geralt patted his shoulder. 

“Happens to the best of us.” 

And Jaskier was the best. Gods, he was far too good for Geralt. He had struggled and been frustrated and still he hadn’t stopped. Because he had wanted to do something for Geralt. The thought made Geralt lightheaded.

“You can still fling yourself in the water, if you want,” Geralt said, “But no drowning. And no bathing in this pool.” He nodded towards the one nearest to them. “It’s too hot for humans.”

“I know,” Jaskier replied. “But it’s perfect for witchers with sore muscles, is it not?”

“It is.” “Then hop hop.” Jaskier clapped his hands together. “I didn’t struggle stupidly for nothing. Get in there.” Despite the demanding words, Jaskier’s body remained relaxed and unthreatening in any way. When Geralt began to shuck off his clothes, he could feel the strain of his back and arms in every movement.

“Can I help you?” Jaskier asked unexpectedly, his fingers twitching in the air, where he would normally fiddle with the hem of his shirt. 

Geralt’s mind went blank. He couldn’t find his voice and simply nodded slowly. His breath hitched, when Jaskier’s nimble fingers worked open the buttons of his shirt and he held himself carefully still when Jaskier tugged the hem free of his trousers. 

Jaskier’s eyes flickered up to his face, a silent question in them. Geralt nodded again and Jaskier lifted Geralt’s shirt up. His fingers brushed against his abdomen and chest, so lightly that the touch was barely there. Yet it left a blazing trail on Geralt’s skin. 

Ever so gently, Jaskier guided Geralt’s arms up over his head, so he could take off the shirt fully. 

Geralt was glad for the few moments in which his face was hidden behind the black fabric. Then, the shield was gone and Geralt was standing before Jaskier with his bare torso. 

He could feel Jaskier’s gaze on him and did his best not to squirm. He resisted the urge to hunch his shoulders and make himself look smaller. He knew from experience that nothing he could do with his posture would hide the numerous ugly scars on his body. 

Jaskier’s eyes reached Geralt’s waistband. 

“Do you want to do this on your own?”

It took Geralt a second to understand what Jaskier meant and when he did, he immediately started to fumble with the laces on his trousers. He could not let Jaskier do this or he would die on the spot. He shrugged off the trousers with as much elegance as a foal learning to run. It was only when he stood completely bare before Jaskier, that he realised that this was worse. This was so much worse. 

Judging from the flush on Jaskier’s cheeks, he had just had the same realisation. He ushered Geralt into the pool, his eyes trained carefully on a spot above Geralt’s shoulder. Geralt complied quickly, letting himself sink into the pool without further delay. He couldn’t suppress a groan, as the hot water enveloped his body.  He closed his eyes and let his head drop back. He had really needed this. 

After a moment, the soft patter of feet came near. Geralt opened his eyes a tiny bit  to see Jaskier kneeling on the floor behind him. He frowned and turned in the pool so he was facing Jaskier. 

“Don’t you want to bathe too? The pools over there should be good for you,” Geralt said, even though he hated the very thought of Jaskier leaving his side again so soon. 

“Oh, they are lovely,” Jaskier agreed, “but this isn’t about me. Now shush. Stop fussing and let me take care of you.”

Jaskier put his hands on Geralt’s shoulders and turned him until he was once again sitting with his back to Jaskier. Being so bare and vulnerable with his back to someone else should have made Geralt uncomfortable, but instead he felt his skin prickling with excitement. He trusted Jaskier. 

He turned his head enough to watch Jaskier uncork one of the small vials and put some droplets from it onto his hands. 

“May I?” Jaskier asked. He didn’t elaborate on what he was asking permission for, but Geralt granted it even so. 

Jaskier scooted closer on his knees, until they reached the edge of the pool, nudging against Geralt’s shoulders. Gently, Jaskier tipped Geralt’s head back, resting it against his knees. 

“Close your eyes,” Jaskier whispered and Geralt obliged. 

It was both exhilarating and relaxing not knowing what Jaskier was about to do next. Geralt was at his mercy, and he trusted him to be kind. 

Still, Geralt couldn’t stop himself from instinctively flinching, when Jaskier’s fingertips touched his temples.

Jaskier shushed him softly. It was a kind and patient sound. One that promised to catch him if he fell. And by the gods, Geralt had fallen. Harder and faster than he had ever thought possible and for the first time in his life, he thought he might land softly. . 

He willed himself to relax again and Jaskier carefully began to massage his temples. Geralt took a deep breath, releasing all the bad thoughts he had gathered over the day. As he inhaled again, he got overwhelmed by the scent of lavender. It came from the vial and now Jaskier was carefully rubbing it into his skin. Gooseflesh covered Geralt’s arms despite the heat of the water. He knew of the properties of lavender, of course. Often enough had he put some dried lavender into a pouch and smelled it to calm himself after an encounter with furious townsfolk or to lull himself to sleep. 

But right now, those soothing properties were at the far back of his mind. The important thing was that beneath the scent of paper and ink, Jaskier always smelled like lavender. And now the same smell would cling to Geralt, as if he were wearing Jaskier’s clothes. 

At some point, Jaskier’s hands wandered to the back of Geralt’s head and pushed it forwards carefully. Geralt opened his eyes and followed the motion, letting Jaskier guide him however he pleased. 

Jaskier got up again and after a moment, he returned with a pitcher filled with water from one of the human-safe pools. 

“Close your eyes, dear.” Warmth that had nothing to do with the hot water flooded Geralt. Dear. It was nothing. It meant nothing. Yet, Geralt wanted so badly to be dear to Jaskier. To him, that small word meant everything. He peeked through his lids, taking in the warm glow of the candles Jaskier had lit for him. He felt Jaskier card his fingers through his hair, detangling the knots carefully. Maybe, it wasn’t just wishful thinking, but the longer Jaskier took to massage Geralt’s scalp, the more sure he became: The word didn’t mean nothing to Jaskier. Perhaps, it didn’t mean everything to him either, but in some way, Geralt was dear to him. 

Jaskier’s hands left him again and after a warning, water cascaded down Geralt’s head. He could hear another vial being opened and then Jaskier was back to massaging his head, rubbing soap and sweet-scented oil into his hair. 

“You have such beautiful hair,” Jaskier said, as he poured more water over Geralt’s head, rinsing the soap from his hair. “Will you let me braid it sometime?”

Anything. At this moment, Geralt would let Jaskier do anything. 

He let out a content hum, hoping it was answer enough. He couldn’t trust his voice not to spill all of his secrets, if he opened his mouth. 

Jaskier patted Geralt’s shoulder and moved around again. This time, Geralt didn’t open his eyes, simply listened to Jaskier, as he spread a towel on the floor. Geralt followed Jaskier’s instructions, as he asked him to get out of the water. He took a second towel he was handed and wrapped it around his hips. 

“Can you lie down here? On your front?” Jaskier motioned to the towel on the floor. He looked a little sheepish. “It would be better in a bed, but I don’t think you’d like to walk through the keep half-naked and getting dressed only to strip again would be too much of a hassle.”

Geralt’s lips twitched up. 

“And you already put all the candles up here.” “Exactly.”

Geralt made sure that Jaskier saw his smile grow wider, before he lay down on the towel. It was softer than he was used to and it smelled of Jaskier. Geralt buried his fingers into it. It must be one of the things Jaskier had taken with him from Lettenhove. A piece of home he was sharing with Geralt. 

Before Geralt could spin the thought any further, Jaskier touched him again on the shoulder. 

Geralt felt himself tensing again. It was one thing standing before Jaskier without a shirt, or having him touch him while most of his body was obscured by the water. But this? Laying bare before Jaskier, as he brushed Geralt’s hair to one side of his neck and put his hands on Geralt’s back…he was on full display. There was no hiding the vicious scars, the way his skin was mangled. He wanted to turn his head to see Jaskier’s reaction, yet at the same time, he dreaded seeing the disgust on his face. For a ridiculous moment, Geralt was tempted to say they could extinguish the flames, so that Jaskier didn’t have to look at him. But it would be of no use. Jaskier’s hands began wandering, mapping out every part of Geralt’s back. Even if he didn’t see the scars, he could still feel them, rough beneath his soft hands. There was no hiding what Geralt was. Jaskier’s hands moved sluggishly at first, testing the waters, before gripping him firmer, kneading his muscles. Geralt groaned, as Jaskier’s clever hands found a particularly hard knot and dug into it. 

“Is this alright?” Jaskier asked, his hands faltering. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Geralt could have laughed. The thought of someone like Jaskier being able to hurt him was ridiculous. But at the same time, if there was a human, who had the ability to do so, it was him. 

“You didn’t.” 

“Alright.” Carefully, Jaskier’s hands began to move again. “Please tell me if I do. If I should be gentler with your scars…”

“You’re good,” Geralt said, unable to keep all those words encompassed out of his voice. 

There was a moment of quiet, then - 

“Where is this one from?” Jaskier lightly traced a scar between Geralt’s shoulder blades, sending a shiver down his spine. He nearly arched into the touch. 

“Werewolf. In Velen. I broke his curse in the end, but he fought me tooth and nail.”

Jaskier’s finger trailed down to his lower back, leaving a pleasant tingling behind. 

“And this one? It looks like it hurt a lot.”

“It did,” Geralt said. He tried to focus on his breathing, but Jaskier’s hand pressed against his lower back so gently, it was impossible to think of anything at all. “Manticore’s are the worst. Nearly killed me during my first year.”

Jaskier sucked in a sharp breath and pulled his hand away. After a beat, he placed it back on his shoulders. 

“Composing a ballad about my hunts already?” Geralt teased. 

“Maybe.” Jaskier chuckled lightly. “Or maybe I just want to get to know my husband.”

Geralt’s heart fluttered foolishly.

“Can I -” Jaskier began, but broke off almost immediately. 

Geralt turned his head, just enough to look at him. Jaskier’s cheeks were flaming and he was ducking his head sheepishly. 

“Can you what?”

“The angle is a bit awkward. It would be easier to massage you, if I…” He gestured vaguely to Geralt’s hips. 

“Oh.” Geralt could feel his own cheeks heating up. 

“I’m sorry,” Jaskier rushed to say. “I wasn’t - I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” He let out an awkward laugh. “I mean, the whole point is to make you more comfortable. Forget I said anything.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt interrupted him softly. He folded his arms and pillowed his head on them. “You may.”

Uncharacteristically, Jaskier didn’t reply, but after a second, he straddled Geralt’s hips. Geralt was acutely aware of every part of them that was touching, even through the fabric of Jaskier’s smallclothes and the towel wrapped around Geralt. 

With a shuddering exhale, Jaskier leaned over him and resumed his massage. Geralt was melting beneath his hands, like the wax of the candles. 

“Can I try something?” Jaskier asked. 

Geralt almost laughed. Nearly all of his walls had crumpled around Jaskier already. At this point, there was little Jaskier could ask for that he would refuse. 

“I trust you,” Geralt said. 

Jaskier let out a strange noise at that, before grabbing one of the candles near them. Geralt stiffened, when the first drop of wax landed on his skin and he let out a quiet hiss. 

“Are you alright?” Jaskier asked. 

“Yes. Just surprised me.”

It was true. The wax should have been painful, but this must be some sort of special candle, for the wax didn’t harden immediately, but turned oily, as Jaskier rubbed it into his skin. The initial sting quickly turned pleasant. 

Geralt closed his eyes, letting himself sink into a state not unlike his meditations. The bubbling of the water almost lulled him to sleep. The warm light he saw even through his closed eyelids made him feel safe and at home, and Jaskier’s touch was grounding him. 

He didn’t notice the low rumble filling the springs, until Jaskier stopped his massage once again. He pressed his hands right beneath Geralt’s shoulder blades. A soft noise left his lips, twisting Geralt's stomach into pleasant knots. 

“You’re purring,” Jaskier said, sounding almost awed. 

Geralt froze. 

“I’m sorry. Is - is it off-putting? I can stop.” 

He wasn’t sure if that was true, but for Jaskier, he would try. He would do his damnedest to repress the instinct to purr,  if it meant feeling Jaskier’s hands on him for a little while longer. 

“Don’t,” Jaskier said. “I like it.”

Geralt furrowed his brows, and inhaled deeply, dreading to catch the whiff of a lie. Maybe it was the lavender scent or the smell of the candles filling his nose, but he found none. Tentatively, he allowed himself to let go of the trepidation. It didn’t take long for the purring to get louder, only now, a different sound joined in. One coming from Jaskier. It…sounded a bit like a pigeon cooing. Or perhaps someone trying very hard to roll their ‘r’s. 

“What are you doing?” Geralt asked, after listening to the weird sound Jaskier was making for over a minute. 

“Purring,” Jaskier said with the confidence of a toddler claiming that they knew how to do a somersault before falling over. 

When Geralt snorted, Jaskier amended his statement. “Well, alright,  I’m trying to purr. It’s much harder than it sounds.”

As if to prove his words, he started mimicking the purring again. Geralt wanted to laugh. It sounded terrible, nothing like a purr. But instead of laughter, warmth rose in his chest. For as horrible as Jaskier’s purring was, it was - for lack of a better word - adorable.  It was like a cat meowing to mimic human speech. Hell, it was like a young Geralt grunting for the first time because it sounded somewhat similar to the snort of a horse. 

“Why?” Geralt asked, though in his heart, he already knew the answer. 

“Well, what does it mean when you’re purring?” Geralt blinked. 

“It means I’m…happy. Comfortable.” That I trust you to see me and not run. 

“There you have your answer then.” 

“You’re happy massaging me?” Geralt asked incredulously. 

“I’m happy making you happy.” Jaskier rubbed his hands down Geralt’s arms, squeezing his muscles and eliciting another groan from him. 

A low rumble rose up and Geralt’s brows shot up. “That - sounded almost like a purr.” Jaskier laughed lightly, a sound that made Geralt want to turn onto his back so he could see him better, but he remained as he was, with Jaskier’s hands mapping him out. 

“I’m afraid that wasn’t me,” Jaskier said and Geralt could hear the smile in his voice. “That is, it was me. My stomach, to be specific.”

“You’re hungry?”

“Oi, don’t sound so judgy. We’ve been down here quite a while.”

“Hmm.” At Jaskier’s explanation, Geralt sat up after all, already mourning the loss of Jaskier’s hands, as they slid down his back and retreated. “Not judgy. Concerned.” And maybe a tiny bit disappointed that their time down here was cut short. “We should get you some dinner.”

Jaskier looked like he wanted to protest, but another grumble from his stomach made him relent. Geralt pointedly didn’t look at Jaskier, as they got dressed. Instead, he focussed on the feel of his own skin, as he pulled his shirt back on. It felt smooth, if he disregarded the scars. The oil and wax made it almost pleasant to touch. Geralt carded his hand through his damp hair, combing through the few tangles that had gotten in there again. The motion sent another wave of the lavender smell to him and when he tugged a strand of hair in front of his face to see it, it looked silky smooth and curled a little. 

He quickly finished getting dressed. When he turned back around, he caught Jaskier, who was already dressed, staring at him. It wasn’t the stare of terrified townsfolk or disgusted nobles, who thought themselves better than him. It was… the way Jaskier was looking at him almost made him feel pretty. 

Geralt cleared his throat. 

“Let’s go,” he said, his voice coming out a little strangled. “And let’s hope that the others left some for us.” “Oh, they better,” Jaskier said and linked his arm with Geralt’s, as they ascended the stairs. “I asked Vesemir to make sure there’d be some food put aside for us.”

Jaskier’s foresight turned out to have been fully necessary. When they reached the dining hall, it was empty and so was the kitchen, save for the two bowls of soup and the slices of fresh bread that had been put on a counter  for them. 

Geralt grabbed them both and turned towards the dining hall, but he stopped before they could sit down. It felt strange being so alone in the big hall. As much as he had dreaded the deafening noise before, he now got overwhelmed by the quiet of it. 

“What’s wrong?” Jaskier asked, when he noticed Geralt’s hesitation. 

“I was thinking,” Geralt said slowly, “that we could have dinner somewhere else. Somewhere nicer. If you don’t mind climbing some more stairs.” Jaskier groaned theatrically, but his eyes lit up. 

“How ominous.”

“It’s really not,” Geralt said, rolling his eyes fondly. “I seem to recall promising you sunsets and beautiful sights?”

Jaskier perked up and Geralt’s chest felt as if a bonfire was lit up in it. He wanted so badly to do something nice for Jaskier too and by the looks of it, he was doing this right. 

“Here, can you hold this?” Geralt pressed the bowls into Jaskier’s hands. “I’ll get us some furs. It’ll be cold.”

Between taking a small detour to gather enough furs to withstand the bitter winds and needing to go slow for Jaskier - “I'm not too out of shape to walk some stairs. I just need to go slow so I don't spill the soup.” - and needing to take actual breaks - “Nevermind, I take it back. I hate these stairs, please tell me we’re at the top soon.” - it took them longer than Geralt had anticipated to get to the top of the tower. 

They reached it just in time to see the last rays of the sun vanish behind the horizon. Geralt's stomach dropped. They were too late. 

“Phew, that took forever.” With a heavy sigh and not a slither of dignity, Jaskier plopped down on the cold stone, scooting back to lean against the wall. He frowned, as some of the soup sloshed onto his legs and carefully put the bowls down next to him. 

“The sun’s already gone,” Geralt said nonsensically, as if Jaskier hadn’t noticed already. It wasn't an apology, not exactly. But he was certain that Jaskier understood it as one anyway. 

Jaskier shot him a mock-glare. 

“If this is you suggesting that we climbed up here for nothing and should just go back down, I'm going to throw soup at you.” His hand itched threateningly to the bowls. “And this time, I won't help you bathe.” 

Geralt's lips twitched up the tiniest bit. 

“I could carry you down if you hate the stairs that much.”

It wasn't an actual offer. Just some light teasing. But unbidden, his mind conjured up images of Jaskier in his arms. 

Jaskier looked at him in contemplation. 

“Careful, dear, I might take you up on that.” He drummed a quick beat onto the rim of one bowl, before pushing it towards Geralt. “But food comes before chivalry.”

Geralt took the bowl and sat down next to Jaskier. With the hand not holding the bowl, he draped some furs over Jaskier's shoulders. It was awkward doing this one-handed and sitting next to him didn't make it any easier, but Jaskier beamed up at him and snuggled into the furs, mercifully ignoring Geralt's fumbling. Wordlessly, Geralt reheated the soup with a small Igni and watched as Jaskier dug in.

Jaskier let out a long moan. 

“We should do this more often,” he said, shovelling another spoonful into his mouth and dipping the bread in the soup with his other hand. “I love the others, but eating soup under the stars truly is a lovely experience. The only thing that would make it better is if we had thought to steal some of Lambert's moonshine.”

Geralt snorted and shook his head. “We wouldn't be able to walk down the stairs without tumblring after drinking that.” Besides, Geralt wanted to remember every moment of this, untainted by the foggy haze of alcohol.

“Eh, I wouldn't mind staying up here all night. I really like this place.”

“Despite the stairs?”

Geralt dared to give him a playful little nudge. 

“Despite the stairs,” Jaskier confirmed. “The company makes up for it.”

“Next time I'll make sure we don't miss the sunset. I promised you -” 

“Hey.” Jaskier's spoon clattered, as he dropped it into the bowl to reach out for Geralt's hand instead. “I spent forever to get all of those knots out of your muscles, don't you go tense up again.” He gave Geralt's hand a light squeeze, making sure that Geralt understood his words to be teasing. ”And don't worry. We'll have all the time in the world to watch sunsets together. Besides, didn't you say you like to come up here to look at the stars? We can do that perfectly fine.”

Jaskier tilted his head back to look up at the sky. Geralt was distantly aware that he should do so too. It was the natural progression of this conversation. But he couldn't stop his eyes from tracing the line of Jaskier’s throat again, his profile, the content quirk of his lips. 

“You remember that?”

The ride up to Kaer Morhen felt like a lifetime ago. The realisation that they've known each other for so long now, hit him with the force of a griffin on a nosedive. 

“Of course I remember. You made it sound so beautiful.” Out of the corner of his eyes, he glanced at Geralt. “And it is.”

“Yeah,” Geralt found himself agreeing dumbly. “Beautiful.” 

Distantly, he was aware that he was staring and that the moment for looking away without making it awkward had passed long ago. But Jaskier was so beautiful. Up here, Geralt could imagine that it was just the two of them. That it hadn't been expectations and treaties that had brought them together. 

Despite the dark, Jaskier must have seen Geralt staring at him. Hard not to notice, when Geralt's eyes were practically glowing in the dark. It was probably unsettling, judging from the way Jaskier squirmed a little and pulled the furs tighter around himself with his free hand, as if to shield himself. He must be misinterpreting Geralt’s staring, for he drew back a little.

“I can leave, if you want,” Jaskier offered and Geralt's stomach dropped. “I know it was your idea to come up here but this is your secret hiding spot. I don't want to take it away from you if you'd rather be here alone. Or if you want your peace and quiet.”

Geralt hummed thoughtfully.

“Lately I feel most peaceful when it isn't that quiet.”

He gave Jaskier the hint of a smile, hoping he could see it despite the dark. “And I promised to be your muse. So… I hope the stars are inspiring?”

“They are,” Jaskier said immediately, not looking at the stars at all. “Truly songworthy.”

“Jaskier… “ 

When had Geralt leaned in? Jaskier's face was so close and Geralt just had to - 

Something flickered in Jaskier's eyes, right before he closed them. Green and purple. A reflection. 

Geralt turned away sharply. 

“Jaskier!” He tugged at his hand to get him to open his eyes again. “Look!”

Jaskier's eyes snapped open and he laughed nervously, but the sound quickly turned into a gasp. His eyes widened and he sat up straighter, a look of pure wonder on his face as he watched the northern lights dance across the sky. 

“Geralt, this is-” He broke off, but he was clutching Geralt's hand so tightly, pressing himself against him. 

“As good as you imagined?” Geralt asked hopefully already suspecting the answer. 

It was written plainly on Jaskier's expression.

“Better,” Jaskier whispered. “So much better.”

Geralt softened, as he watched Jaskier watch the lights. They drew dancing shapes onto his cheeks and reflected in his eyes, making him look ethereal. 

He didn't know how long they sat like this. He only noticed the passage of time, when Jaskier began to shiver. Geralt tugged tighter around him and when that didn't stop Jaskier's shivering, he slid under them himself, letting go of his hand to wrap his arm around Jaskier's waist.

“Do you want to head back inside?” he asked. 

Jaskier shook his head without hesitation. 

“I want to stay. Here, with you. This is - Geralt, this is everything.” His voice softened as he rested his head on Geralt's shoulder, snuggling against him. “I don't want this to end.”

Instead of responding, Geralt pulled Jaskier closer, wrapping his other arm around him as well to keep him warm. After a heartbeat of hesitation, he rested his own head onto Jaskier's. The hair tickled him, but it was soft and smelled of Jaskier. 

Quiet, at first - so quiet that Geralt could barely hear it - Jaskier began to hum. As his voice grew more sure, Geralt could feel the vibration of it, where they touched. It almost felt like a purr. He suspected it signified the same thing. 

Geralt closed his eyes, simply listening, melting into the knowledge that in this moment, Jaskier was truly happy. 

“It's beautiful,” Geralt whispered, when Jaskier quieted down again. “You could sing it for the others, if you wanted. Perform.”

“Not this s

ong,” Jaskier said softly. One of his hands came up to Geralt's arm and held onto it lightly, his fingers drawing random patterns onto it. “It's not meant for an audience. It's meant to be sung at night, when everyone else is asleep.”

Geralt's brows drew together the tiniest bit. 

“I'm not asleep.” 

A quiet laugh escaped Jaskier and with a bit of a struggle, he brought his hand up to card his fingers through Geralt's hair. 

“No you're not. And what a shame that is. I went through all that trouble to get you relaxed and sleepy enough to get a good night's rest.”

“I'm not that sleepy. Want to stay awake,” Geralt mumbled, pressing his face into Jaskier's soft hair. “Want to stay with you.”

“Me too.” 

“Can you sing it again? I know you just said there shouldn't be an audience, but…”

Jaskier didn't reply. Instead, he started humming again, as he resumed stroking Geralt's hair. Even without words to the melody, Geralt could feel his heart flutter with a before unknown hope, as he listened. 

He didn't mean for his breathing to get deeper or for the song to lull him towards sleep, but in that moment, he was so comfortable that it was impossible to resist the pull of sleep. 

He thought he could hear Jaskier say something - maybe a teasing comment about Geralt's claim not to be tired, or maybe something softer - but he couldn't understand the words. He had already fallen asleep with his head on top of Jaskier's, and the world wrapped safely  in his arms.

—

tag list (please tell me if you would like to be added or removed from this): @spookylostboy @justablobfish @karolincki  @flosimo @rebrandedbard @hollowxo @silvertonguelover @inanoldhousewrites @yaskefer @emotional-support-fandom @fandoms-princess @kore888 @fen-thenobling @geraskier-thots @strippiluolamies @sharinalein @slumberingcorpse @elle-ja-bell @bellathecatastrophe @hockles @fangirlwithoutinspiration @ban-aard @mothmanismyuncle @pitrsattabhaadmeinjao @longdeadtemple

[hanzajesthanza]

witcher opinions which irrationally upset and irritate me, and also just show me that people didn’t understand the books:

“geralt is a ps*cho murderer sadist no morality killer and that’s what makes him cool”

“neutrality is always the best course of action”

“dandelion is a bad friend”

“i don’t lke how the series shifts to being about ciri”

“baptism of fire is the worst book” or “the series gets boring when the characters begin to wander”

“the POV switches confuse me, they shouldn’t be there”

“nimue and condwiramurs are boring”

“the arthurian stuff is stupid”

“philippa should have won”

“why would geralt gather that company to help him? wouldn’t it be smarter to gather some professionals?”

“geralt’s company aren’t actually friends, they wouldn’t like each other if they had no quest”

“angoulême was pointless”

“milva bitches too much”

“regis lied to the company and he’s actually not sober”

[buskerjaskier]

I just posted the second chapter to my (surprisingly domestic and fluffy) Winter at Oxenfurt Geraskier fic:

It's betaed by my good pal @nicestmeangirl, who is also the one who came up with the original prompt :-) I'd be thrilled if you all checked it out!

Here's a wee snippet from chapter 2:

Long, elegant fingers tangle with Geralt’s own resting on Jaskier’s shoulder, and the bard sighs heavily, breaking the quiet. “You should be in bed, witcher.”