#can you fucking imagine if geralt and dandelion were like ‘yeah we’re just going to live apart forever now and never see each other again’

[hanzajesthanza]

the hansa dying at stygga isn’t even sad considering a potentially sadder ending that i feel has become a recent trope: “they live, but then happily decide to all part ways.” i’m allergic to that shit

[jaskierswolf]

You Set My Heart Ablaze Pt11/25

Previous

The gym stank of sweat and the air was thick with testosterone and fragile masculinity. Renfri snarled as one of men wolf whistled at her and she punched the bag in front of her harder and then spun round to hit the bag with a flying kick, imagining it was the idiot’s face. She loved the gym. She loved the feel of her muscles burning. She loved being strong and knowing she could crush any one of these pathetic losers in a fight.

But they only saw her as a woman.

They saw her as weak.

They saw her as a potential conquest.

She screamed and let a sequence of punches and kicks loose on the bag and then half collapsed onto it. Her gloves wrapped around the back of the punching bag and she hugged it close as she caught her breath.

She heard the sound of laughter behind her and she spun round to yell at the poor person who had underestimated her.

The shout caught in her throat.

It was Lambert.

His long ginger hair was half tied up behind his head and dripping with sweat. He’d clearly already started his workout before deciding to bother her instead.

“Whoa there.” He put his gloved hands up in front of his face to defend himself from her obvious ire. “I was laughing at the poor bag! I promise.”

Renfri glanced over to where the other men in the gym were standing at, ogling at her like she was a piece of meat, and then back to Lambert. “You’d be the first one.”

Lambert raised an eyebrow and looked over at the other men. He scoffed. “You could take them easily, Shrike.”

“Oh I know.”

“Want to test the theory?” His eyes danced playfully.

She punched her gloves together. “Fuck yes.”

Lambert flexed the muscles in his arms and waved the guys over. “Oi! Care for a little competition?”

The men ambled over, grinning lecherously at her. She rolled her eyes and stretched her muscles before pulling off her gloves. She wouldn’t need them for the type of sparring that Lambert had in mind. It would be less boxing and more street fight. Her hands were still wrapped up under the gloves to offer her knuckles enough protection and the heavy weight of the boxing gloves would only slow her down.

“Yeah. We’re interested.” Moron number one said.

Lambert tilted his head. “Two on two. Me and Shrike versus you two. First team to both tap out loses.”

“Standard rules?” Moron number two asked.

The gym’s boxing ring meant that sparring was not unusual and there was a set of rules drilled into the wall after one memorable fight where one the boxers had been bitten and had had to go to hospital.

Lambert nodded. “Keep it clean.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll go easy on your girl.”

“Not his girl.” Renfri growled.

“Whatever, sweetheart.”

Lambert smirked and cuffed Renfri lightly round the head. She retaliated with a quick swipe to his side. “Bit of advice fellas? Don’t hold back. She won’t.”

They howled in laughter as they took in Renfri’s smaller form.

She grinned.

This was going to be so much fun.

She’d sparred with Lambert enough times to know his style, his strengths, his weaknesses, and he knew the same about her so they easily slipped into a dancing rhythm as they dodged and attacked their partners. When Lambert got caught in the stomach by a well time blow, Renfri was there to pull him back out of danger and block the next punch before spinning round and knocking the other man round the head. Lambert yelled as he launched his next attack on the poor pitiless men who had underestimated her. The man didn’t manage to get his hands up in time before he was thrown towards the ropes under the sheer weight of Lambert. He tapped out shortly after that. Lambert winked at her and tapped out, dunking under the ropes to help the other man out of the ring and leaving Renfri alone against their final opponent.

“Is that all you got, girl?” He spat at her.

Renfri rolled her eyes and beckoned him forward. He lunged at her like the brute that he was. She easily side-stepped the attack and kicked the man as he passed her, propelling him into the ropes. He grunted and spun round to attack her but he was too slow, she’d already caught him in the stomach with another punch and a quick swipe at his ankles sent him crashing to the ground.

He groaned as he struggled to catch his breath.

Renfri pouted down at him.

“Aww. Is that all you got?” She laughed and Lambert whooped from where his was now resting his arms on the ropes on the other side of the ring.

“Fuck you!” The man spat and went to grabbed her but she’d already predicted the attack and she leapt back. He crashed onto his stomach and she straddled his waist to pin him down. She pressed her palm against the back of his neck.

“Never gonna happen, sweetheart.” She pressed harder against his neck.

The man writhed under her trying to get free but Renfri had had far too much practice in the ring.

The man yelled but reluctantly thumped his hand twice against the mat. Renfri was off him in a heartbeat, not wanting the pervert to get the wrong idea. Lambert was already in the ring to give her hug. It was sweaty and disgusting but she laughed all the same.

The normal fight etiquette was to help your partner up at the end. She glanced back at the man who was practically whimpering on the mat and then turned to his friend. “You can take care of that. We’re done here.”

She ducked out of the ropes and made her way to the shower rooms to clean off, agreeing to meet Lambert outside so they could grabbed some lunch together. She was starving after all the exercise, she felt like she could eat a horse!

“Sorry Roach!” She laughed to herself as she grabbed her gym bag.

After her shower she changed and towel dried her hair before going outside to meet up with Lambert. His hair was still damp, from the shower this time instead of sweat, and he’d changed into an oversized hoody. She bumped her shoulder against his as the walked down the street.

“Where to Wolf?” She asked as her stomach rumbled.

He shrugged. “Thought maybe some sandwiches and coffee?”

She hummed in agreement. “Coffee is always good. I thought you were hanging out with Eskel today?”

He scoffed. “Yeah. We were supposed to. The bastard goat of his got sick and had to go to the vets.”

Renfri frowned. Eskel adored his pet goat like it was his child. “That’s rough. Is he alright?”

Lambert laughed darkly. “Eskel or the goat?”

Renfri grinned. “Both?”

“The bastard ate something he shouldn’t have. Eskel is just being paranoid. That goat eats anything and everything.” Lambert drawled and opened the door to the coffee shop that they’d stopped outside.

Renfri grimaced at the pink streamers and confetti in the shop window. She’d forgotten it was nearly February already. St Julian’s day was coming up, a celebration of the saint of love and music. It always drove Renfri insane. She hated it. People became sick with love and romance, and in all honesty she’d never understood the fuss. Romance had never been something she’d experienced nor particularly wanted. She was more than happy with her friends and the little family they’d become.

Still, that didn’t mean she enjoyed having other people’s romantic bliss being shoved down her throat in the build up to St Julian’s day, the constant questions of when she was going to get a husband and settle down, or when are you going to have kids, Renfri?

How about never?

She wasn��t broken and she didn’t need a romantic partner to feel like a success in life.

If she told herself that enough she might start to believe it.

Yeah, St Julian’s day was not her most favourite day of the year.

She took a deep breath and went inside. The bell chimed as they stepped through.

Renfri froze and Lambert almost crash into her.

“What the fuck, Shrike?”

Renfri spun round and clapped her hand over his mouth . “Shut it!” She pointed to a corner of the coffee shop where Geralt was sat with Ciri’s teacher.

Lambert mumbled something and licked her hand. She grimaced and pulled her hand away, wiping the saliva down Lambert’s hoody.

“What the fuck?” Lambert repeated more quietly. “What’s he doing with the teacher?”

“I don’t know!” She hissed. “Now move, you prick!” She tried to shove him out of the door but he didn’t budge.

“I’m gonna go talk to them.” Lambert decided and Renfri groaned.

“This is a terrible idea.”

“You go then!”

“I’m not leaving!”

“Then come on!” Lambert tugged her towards Geralt and Jaskier.

Jaskier spotted them first.

“Oh shit!” He cursed and leapt up from the table. “Ah. Hello!” He waved cheerily. “Geralt your friends are here!”

“Fuck!” Geralt swore and spun round to glare at them.

Unfortunately for the White Wolf both Renfri and Lambert were well acquainted with his death glare and ignored it without a second thought.

“Geralt!” Lambert pulled the other fireman into a sideways hug. “We didn’t know you had a date!”

“Not a date!” Jaskier chimed up. “Right Geralt?”

“Not a date.” Geralt agreed. “Mr Pankratz was just telling me…”

“Oh it’s Mr Pankratz now is it?” Lambert asked with a smirk. “What happened to Jaskier, or should I say Dandelion?

“Oh a fan! Geralt mentioned you were a fan! I’ve never met a fan before. Did you want an autograph? Or is that too presumptuous.” Jaskier blushed and fidgeted with his hands.

“He doesn’t want an autograph.” Geralt answered, ignoring Lambert’s protests.

“So if it’s not a date?” Renfri quirked an eyebrow at the very date like setting.

“I… I was just passing by you see.” Jaskier stammered. “The lemon drizzle cake in this shop is just to die for!”

“And I was already here.” Geralt added.

“Getting coffee!” Jaskier agreed. “We all love coffee. That’s why we’re here! Coffee!”

“I think you might have had enough caffeine.” Renfri muttered and crossed her arms.

Jaskier laughed almost hysterically at that. “But I couldn’t just leave without saying hello! It would be rude of me.”

Geralt grunted in agreement.

“So I thought what’s the harm in popping over for a quick chat and then you came in and here we are!” Jaskier finished.

Lambert chuckled and smirked at her. “He knows I was only joking right?”

Renfri shook her head. “I don’t think he does. So where’s your lemon drizzle cake?”

Jaskier looked back at the table. Between the two coffees, one black and one covered in what looked like caramel syrup, was a large slice of chocolate cake.

“Did I say lemon drizzle cake?” Jaskier blanched.

Lambert laughed and patted the teacher roughly on the back. Jaskier yelped and his fingers were twitching nervously at his side. “Relax. We don’t care what you do.”

“It’s not a date.” Geralt growled. “Leave him alone.”

“Then why are you lying, Ger-Bear?” Renfri asked as she sat down in Jaskier’s vacated seat, helping herself to the chocolate cake.

“We’re…” Geralt paused, obviously struggling to find the right word.

“Friends.” Jaskier finished looking back at Geralt apparently not noticing Geralt’s frown at the word. “We’re friends but some people might find it a bit strange given that I’m his daughter’s teacher. If it got back to my boss…”

“Then why bother at all?” Lambert scoffed. “How did you even become friends any way?”

Geralt opened his mouth to speak but Jaskier cut him off. Renfri rolled her eyes. How did Geralt put up with this idiot? The way Geralt had described him, Renfri had pictured some cool but slightly dorky plaid wearing nerd… not this… this… whatever this was?

“That was my fault! Geralt mentioned about Ciri wanting to learn an instrument and well that’s sort of something I love and I just talked his ear off about it for, gods, it must have been hours.”

“It was half an hour after school.” Geralt corrected.

“And well after that it sort of just became a habit. Geralt would pop in after work every so often to ask if everything was going alright with Ciri.” Jaskier continued. “We were all worried about her when she first started and when the holidays were approaching we knew it would be hard.”

“Her first solstice without her real family.”

“Geralt! You are her real family now. We’ve talked about this!” Jaskier chided him and patted the other man on the shoulder. “But umm… after a while, we sort of stopped talking about Ciri and just talked about, well, life! And…” Jaskier paused as he suddenly focussed on Renfri. “Hang on! Is that my cake?!”

“Our cake.” Geralt added. “Don’t take it personally. She does it all the time.”

“But I was really looking forward to that!” Jaskier whined.

Renfri smirked and looked the teacher steadily in the eyes as she took another mouthful of chocolate cake. It was deliciously moist and rich. “Is that chocolate fudge icing?” Renfri mumbled around her mouthful of cake.

Jaskier gaped at her and put his hands on his hips.

“Geralt!” He pouted.

“Renfri, leave the cake. Otherwise I’ll never hear the end of it.” Geralt said giving the teacher a soft smile, one Renfri had rarely seen before. “He talks enough as it is.”

“We hadn’t noticed.” Renfri drawled sarcastically but put her fork down on the plate reluctantly.

“I had.” Lambert argued and Renfri punched him in the arm before peering at Jaskier’s coffee.

The teacher lunged for his cup, knocking into the table and spilling both his and Geralt’s coffee over the table. “Oh no. No no no!” He picked up the mug and cradled it to his chest. “You stole my cake. You are not stealing my coffee too!”

Renfri cackled at his possessiveness over the drink. “Is there even any coffee in that monstrosity? It looks like pure sugar!”

Jaskier rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Do all firefighters drink their coffee black as smoke?”

Geralt smirked. “It’s on the application form.”

“Fuck off.” Jaskier glared at him. “I know you’re all laughing at me. Honestly, I thought we were friends Geralt!”

Lambert laughed hard at that and Renfri rolled her eyes at him. “That was your first mistake.”

“We should move tables.” Geralt suggested as he tried to mop up Jaskier’s mess with some napkins. “This one isn’t big enough for four.”

Jaskier’s expression changed from one of horror and offence to fondness in a heartbeat.

Well wasn’t that an interesting development.

Geralt had never mentioned that his crush on the teacher was requited. Although all that talk of friends was probably throwing the white wolf off.

“Well seeing as my seat and my cake have both been stolen.” Jaskier huffed and narrowed his eyes at Renfri. “I’ll get us more coffee and cake whilst you guys chose a new table. Any requests?”

“Not cake.” Lambert said. When Jaskier gave him a questioning look he shrugged. “I’ll come with you. I want a sandwich.”

The pair of them shuffled over to the counter to order whilst Geralt and Renfri gathered up their belongings from the smaller table and moved it to a double one in the centre of the room. One of the staff looked wearily at the mess of coffee soaked napkins that were left behind. Geralt tried to scooped them up to put in the bin but he was shooed away as they picked up their cleaning supplies to get to work. It was a battle not worth fighting so both firefighters mumbled an apology.

Renfri was watching Geralt carefully as they sat down. He was too busy looking over at Jaskier to notice, sipping what was left of his coffee. Geralt frequently spoke about Jaskier at work when they were in between jobs, mostly in reference to Ciri and the wolf pack would always laugh and joke about his attachment to the teacher but it was completely different seeing it in person.

She hadn’t realised how close the two men had become.

Geralt had never mentioned going to see Jaskier after school and now outside of school too. Regardless of what tales Jaskier spun, Renfri was certain that this little coffee date was not an accident or a spontaneous affair. She felt bitter that Geralt felt like he couldn’t trust them with the truth. Yes, they’d teased him about Jaskier but he should have realised that the wolves would support him no matter what.

They were family.

But what if Geralt was starting to build a new family without them?

They’d already added Ciri to the mix, which really she didn’t mind. It was nice to have another girl around when they got together. The boys didn’t quite understand how draining it was to be the odd one out every single day, even if she was just one of the boys, but that didn’t mean she wanted another intruder into their tight family unit.

And come to think of it, it was always Geralt that brought new people into the mix. Yennefer, Ciri, Jaskier.

Were they not enough for him?

She pulled the chocolate cake back towards her. Jaskier was getting new cake anyway and she was still fucking hungry. The movement was more heavy-handed than she’d meant it to be and it drew Geralt’s attention.

He tilted his head at her.

“I’m fine.” She grumbled and stuffed a forkful of the delicious cake into her mouth.

“Renfri…”

“I said I’m fine.” She spat out, crumbs spraying the table. “Just keep mooning over the teacher.”

Geralt frowned. “I am not mooning.”

“You’re forgetting about us.” Renfri snarled.

“What the fuck, Renfri?” Geralt huffed. “Where would you get an idea like that?”

Renfri scoffed but didn’t say anything and Geralt didn’t have a chance to push for an answer as Lambert and Jaskier came back carrying trays filled with coffee and food. The teacher was chatting away without a care in the world about his band and the new album he was working on with Ciri’s ukulele teacher. Lambert was pestering him for the chords of the previous songs but Jaskier was reluctant to give up his secrets.

“Come on you bastard!” Lambert growled. “A favour for Ciri’s favourite uncle?”

Jaskier put his tray down and rested his hand on his hip with a smirk. “I thought Eskel was Ciri’s favourite uncle?”

Lambert looked like he wanted to wrestle the teacher to the ground. “Who told you that? Geralt? He’s a fucking liar.”

Jaskier just laughed and Geralt smiled fondly across at him like he’d hung the moon. “Ciri told me actually.”

“Bollocks!” Lambert growled.

“It’s true!” Jaskier argued.

“Fuck that!”

“I am wounded that you don’t believe me. Geralt, tell him!” Jaskier pouted.

“I didn’t say anything.” Geralt smirked.

Renfri watched the whole exchange as she pulled one of the sandwiches off the tray. Perhaps she shouldn’t have eaten the cake first but what was the point in being an adult if you couldn’t eat dessert first?

She was absolutely stunned and how quickly Lambert and Jaskier seemed to have bonded. Her friend was probably just a bit starstruck from meeting Dandelion. What was it about this teacher that had her friends acting all silly?

He was too chatty and annoying.

Ok so maybe she was jealous.

Maybe she was scared.

She sighed.

She just didn’t want to be left behind as her friends began to find partners. It wouldn’t be the first time it had happened. Geralt’s eyes flashed to her and he frowned and pulled out his phone. After a few seconds her phone beeped in her pocket.

G —You’re not fine.

Renfri looked up at him and rolled her eyes.

—Renfri. You’re not fine.

She sighed and frowned at him before tapping out a reply, zoning out of the conversation at the table.

R —He seems nice.

She tilted her head towards Jaskier who was bickering with Lambert and seemingly oblivious to their silent conversation.

Geralt just nodded and raised an eyebrow. She sighed.

— You’re family, White Wolf. I will not lose you

“Geralt!” Jaskier gripped the older man’s arm. “Geralt are you even listening to me?”

Geralt looked up from his phone at Jaskier like a man seeing the sun for the first time, and then smirked. “Not at all.”

Jaskier gasped and sat back in his chair. “Wow. I mean wow really. Here I am, singing your praises about how wonderful a father you are to Ciri and you aren’t even paying attention!”

“You didn’t miss much.” Lambert grunted.

“Rude!” Jaskier pointed a finger at the ginger. “All of you, rude! I should have just stuck with my kids. They love me.”

“Someone has to.” Renfri snorted.

“Renfri.” Geralt grumbled in a low voice.

“No. No she’s right.” Jaskier sighed dramatically. “I am destined for loneliness and heartbreak.”

Geralt rolled his eyes and punched Jaskier in the arm. “Shut up, Jask.”

Jaskier stuck his tongue out at Geralt.

“I can’t believe you’re friends with him.” Renfri groaned to Geralt.

“It’s a difficult task but I do my best.” Jaskier winked and to her surprise Renfri actually laughed.

She crossed her arms in front of her chest “Yeah well. Don’t go thinking you’re special just because you’re new.”

Jaskier smiled brightly. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

She narrowed her eyes at him and then patted him hard on the back. The teacher yelped at the sudden contact and she laughed. Perhaps he wasn’t so bad after all.

______

Next

[king-finnigan]

Play With Fire - part 10

Warning! Torture. Still blueballing you with the actual murder but we’re getting there! That is not a sentence I ever thought I’d write, and yet, here we are.

Masterlist!

***

They make it to the prison without running into any police officers, and Geralt parks his car at the back of the building, leaving his keys in the lock. After all, they should probably steal a car after this to make sure they don’t get tracked as easily.

Surprisingly, his badge still works on the back door to the prison, and he and Jaskier slip inside. 

It’s quiet in the prison - it’s dinner time, by now, so the inmates are all in the dining room, with most of the guards. He’s confident they won’t run into any of his ex-coworkers in the hallways, either, since it’s only a short distance from the back of the prison to the director’s office. 

Well enough, they make it there without seeing another living soul - except for the one cockroach that scurried up the wall as they passed. It’s dark in the office, De Vries probably having gone home for the day an hour or so ago. 

He’s about to sit down in front of the desktop when Jaskier beats him to it. “Let me, love. Only my fingerprints, remember?” He wiggles his fingers in front of Geralt’s face in demonstration and Geralt chuckles, kissing them softly before Jaskier pulls his hands back, laughing as well. “Just tell me what to do, exactly.”

“Well, first you gotta turn it on.” 

Jaskier nods, frowning. “Right, yeah, right. Makes sense.”

He does as he’s told - for once - and turns the computer on, staring blankly at the screen for a few minutes as it loads. “It says I have to log in.”

Geralt frowns. “Hmm.” He opens the top drawer of the desk, digging through the papers. “It’s likely they haven’t changed the system yet, so soon, so she probably-” he smiles triumphantly as he pulls out a tiny piece of paper from the bottom of the drawer with Palmer’s login and password “-aha! She wrote the old one down.”

“Love, you’re a goddamn genius.” Jaskier smiles at him as Geralt scoffs, handing the paper to the younger man.

His face then contorts in horror as Jaskier starts typing with his two index fingers. “You look like a grandma.”

Jaskier shrugs, tongue poking out between his lips as he continues typing with two fingers. “I’m not good with technology.”

“My gods, how did you ever escape from prison?”

Jaskier shrugs again, beaming up at him as he smashes his finger down on the ‘Enter’ key. “By the power of my love for you.”

Geralt sighs, shaking his head lightly, smiling anyways, as he goes to stand behind Jaskier, laying his chin on his love’s shoulder to see the screen. He points at a particular icon. “Click that. Twice, dear. Twice quickly, now you’re just changing the name. Yes, like that. Now, click on ‘History’, then click ‘Clear’, ‘Clear all,’ yes.” He pecks a small kiss underneath Jaskier’s ear. “Well done. Now close it. Use the X, dear. Now, the other icon, that one. No, not that one, the one I’m pointing to. The one I’m pointing to, dear. No, not that one, the one I’m pointing to. Yes, that one. Again, ‘History’, ‘Clear’, ‘Clear all’, then ‘Disable Cameras’. That’s it. Now, ‘Employees’, yes that one, click on it. Twice, Jaskier. Hmm.” He frowns, committing De Vries and Stregobor’s adresses to his memory. “Now, turn the computer off. Right.”

He stands up straight again, smiling as Jaskier saunters through the office door, following the younger man into the hall, taking his hand. “Now we get the hell out of here.”

“And steal a car?”

“Yes, and steal a car.” He rolls his eyes at the smile Jaskier gives him, all sparkly eyes and rosy cheeks and sharp teeth. “And maybe murder some people, what the hell.”

And, by the gods, Geralt shouldn’t be fond of the excited look Jaskier throws his way at the mention of murder, but he does anyways.

---

Stealing a car isn’t difficult. Finding Stregobor’s house, a few blocks away, isn’t, either. Willing himself to actually let go of the steering wheel and opening the door, however, is.

He sits there, tensed up under the light of the streetlamps, darkness beginning to fall, hands clenched around the steering wheel. Jaskier’s hand is rubbing his shoulder in soothing, circulair motions, as he presses soft kisses to Geralt’s jaw and neck. “It’s okay, love, it’s okay. If you don’t want to go, then you don’t have to go. It’s okay. I can handle this on my own.”

Geralt knows Jaskier’s right, knows the younger man can just saunter into the house, pull the trigger or use a knife, and walk right back out without as much as a second thought. And he knows that Jaskier can stand his ground, if Stregobor were to fight back.

But he also doesn’t want to let his love do this alone. Doesn’t want to sit here in the car in deafening silence, waiting for the bang of a gunshot or the slam of the front door. He can’t just sit here and do nothing and wait and listen.

But he also doesn’t know if he can go in there, if he can watch someone being murdered - no matter how much that person is standing in his way. And that’s assuming that he’ll just be watching. That’s assuming he, himself, won’t be the one holding the knife or the gun or the sides of Stregobor’s head before he snaps his neck.

He doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know what to say, and even if he did, he feels like he can’t - can’t move, can’t talk, can’t let go of the steering wheel as his knuckles slowly turn white.

“Love,” Jaskier whispers to him, “it’s time, alright? I’m going in there, with or without you. I know that sounds harsh, but we don’t have much time left, we can’t sit here all night.”

Geralt exhales a deep, shuddering breath, then nods, once. 

He finally releases the steering wheel from his death grip, taking the gun Jaskier offers to him, tucking it into his waistband. He tries not to slam the door of the car when he gets out, but Jaskier seems to slam it extra hard, making Geralt cringe.

“Just to give ‘em a little heads-up.” Jaskier winks at him, diffusing the tenseness in Geralt’s shoulder, as he chuckles.

They walk to the front door, and Jaskier knocks. And somehow, that’s the thing that surprises Geralt the most.

He’s never imagined what it would be like to kill somebody. He has imagined Jaskier killing someone, though, but he’s never tried to think about the moments leading up to it, or the ones afterwards. He’s never thought he would be by Jaskier’s side, about to murder someone.

And even if he had, he never would’ve guessed that they would knock first. But then again, it’s as good a start to a murder as any. At least they don’t have to break in, at least they don’t have to try not to leave fingerprints everywhere.

Jaskier leans back a bit as they wait. “How do you want to do this, love? Just shoot him when he opens? Force our ways inside, tie him down, make him suffer a bit first? Your choice, love, I want you to be comfortable.”

Geralt nearly snorts at that. Yes, like he could ever be comfortable murdering someone. 

Maybe one day, a small voice at the back of his mind whispers, and he pushes it away.

He contemplates his options for a second. “Maybe tie him down and make him suffer a bit, and give De Vries a merciful death. She seemed alright. Stregobor is just a douchebag.”

Jaskier smiles at him, wiggling his shoulders a bit. “Ooh. Best of both worlds, I see. Bold move.”

Geralt opens his mouth to answer when the door opens, revealing a tired-looking Stregobor in a bathrobe and slippers. His greyish eyes widen in surprise at the sight in front of him. “Wh-”

Geralt pulls the gun out from his jeans, pointing it at the man. “One wrong move and you’re dead.”

Jaskier looks at him, mouth slightly agape in shock and wonder. “You’re so hot when you say things like that.”

Geralt scoffs, shaking his head slightly. He turns his gaze back to Stregobor, whose hands are up in the air by now. He motions with the gun. “Move back.”

Stregobor does as he’s told, stepping back a few feet, and Geralt follows him inside, gun still trained on the man, as Jaskier closes the door behind them, locking it.

Stregobor’s face contorts in anger, hands balling into fists next to his head as Jaskier grabs a dining room chair, dragging it into the middle of the living room-kitchen space. “You fucking traitor! I should’ve known, should’ve seen this coming. You motherf-” 

Stregobor’s sentence is cut short as Jaskier elbows him into the side of his head. The man falls down into the chair, groaning as Jaskier takes his hands, cuffing them behind the chair. “Nobody talks to my boyfriend like that, asshole,” Jaskier mutters, spitting in Stregobor’s face before taking the ribbon from the bathrobe, stuffing it into the man’s mouth.

The bathrobe falls open, and Geralt takes in the sight of Stregobor, a man who prides himself in his well-put-together appearance, sitting in the chair, hands cuffed behind the back, clad in only an open bathrobe, underwear, and slippers. And, strangely enough, it brings him joy - brings him an unbridled pleasure to see a man who looks down on others - on Geralt - humiliated and reduced to nothing in the span of a few short minutes.

He takes the knife Jaskier hands to him, kneeling in front of Stregobor, dragging the tip across the man’s cheek. “You’ll have to forgive me,” he mutters, eyes trained on Stregobor’s face, contorted in rage and fear, “this is my first time so I might be a little clumsy.”

Stregobor’s scream is muffled through ribbon of the bathrobe when the tip of the knife pushes clean through the skin and muscle of his cheek, into the fabric.

***

Tag list babey! (if you want to be added, just send me a DM or an ask, or put it in the comments, whatever suits you):

@just-a-himbo-and-his-feral-bard, @dandelionslute, @weakforjaskier, @the-blondey, @shipwrecked-nawtali, @bygodstillam, @rum-cream, @random-nerd-3, @allthethingshappening, @agentlewomanandascholar, @tschulijulesjulie, @noobtiedoo, @foddle-the-fiddler, @thenameislion-dandelion, @skai6, @thesmileyplant, @hysteria347, @pensandknittingneedles, @freak-fee-blog, @whenrainbowsend, @flustratedcas, @negatjazzy, @bridgehampton, @lookinforsomeabsinth, @dandelion-and-the-wolf, @sweetieplum