#geralt actually does stop him from taking it off. he's unfortunately sober

[patroclusdefencesquad]

vibrating out of my skin thinking about jaskier and yennefer at some kind of village celebration like a spring fayre or something and they're drunk and dancing and have flowers in their hair and jaskier spins her round and round and she's giggling and then he dips her and they both nearly fall over from laughing and she smacks a big kiss on his cheek and they walk off with their arms round each other

[advena87]

Kaer Morhen shenanigans (but mostly Lambert’s) part 6

.

Here is: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10 and Daily Lambert

also Keira & Lambert’s love story, Aiden & Lambert’s love story and… this.

.

Lambert: I need an adult.

Eskel: You ARE an adult.

Geralt: Eskel now you have exaggerated.

***

Vesemir: I love you son.

Lambert: Unrealistic. Unbelievable. Lies. False.

***

Vesemir: Lambert! Don’t make me come over there and be a parent!

Lambert: FIRST TIME FOR EVERYTHING, HUH?!

Berengar: BUUURN!

***

Vesemir, a tired dad, trying to teach the next witcher generation: Okay, let’s try this one last time. Forest, corpses everywhere, Leshen attack. What do you do?

Geralt:

Eskel: …

Lambert: Call the witche-

Vesemir: YOU ARE THE WITCHERS!

*later*

Vesemir: *launches the witchers into Leshen’s forest*

Eskel: Vesemir, where is the rest of the guys?

Vesemir: I'll tell you where they're not... safe.

*in the forest*

Geralt, fighting with Leshen: Lambert, quick, think! What would Vesemir do in this situation?!

Imaginary Vesemir in Lambert’s head: *walks away* Bye, Lambert!

Lambert: I'm beginning to think I have issues.

Geralt: *fighting* Lambert, support!

Lambert: Well your hair looks terrific. Grey is a lovely color on you. And frankly, you're the only one on this team I can rely on.

Geralt: I meant hit him!!!

*after defeating Leshen*

Geralt: Luckily all that violence and gore had no disturbing side-effects on our decent childhoods-

Lambert: *quartering Leshen while drinking blood from it’s skull*

Geralt: ...

Lambert: I'm sorry, I have to do that every twelve minutes.

Vesemir: I’ve never felt such an odd mixture of pride and mortal terror.

***

Eskel: Hey, Lambert, how are things going with Vesemir?

Lambert: I dunno, lets see. HEY DAD, YOU WANT TO TRAIN WITH ME!?

Vesemir: *in the distance* FUCK OFF!

Lambert: Why are you acting like this? I’m your son!

Vesemir: Yeah and are you as disappointed as I am?

Eskel: Wow, you are just the Grand Central Station of disappointment for him, aren't you?”

Lambert: Yup. Thats me.

***

Vesemir: Lambert, if I die before you, I want you to lower me into my grave.

Lambert: Aw, da-

Vesemir: So you can let me down one last time.

Lambert:

Lambert: Eskel, do me a favour, if I die before him, cremate me and throw my ashes in Vesemir’s face.

***

Eskel: Don't you miss the vivid imagination of childhood?

Lambert: I never had one.

Berengar: An imagination or a childhood?

Lambert: ...

Geralt, mockingly: Oh, what, not gonna tell us your tragic backstory? I thought you loved to talk about that shit.

Lambert, completely deadpan: If I felt like talking about my childhood trauma, I'd go to therapy. Murder is way less emotionally taxing.

Eskel: ... I can't tell if your childhood was that fucked up, or you're just okay with killing people.

Lambert: It's less of an 'or' and more of a 'one lead to the other'.

***

Eskel: Lambert! Are you drinking again?

Lambert: Yep.

Eskel: You said no more alcohol!

Lambert: I said “no, more alcohol”.

Eskel: Do you live in your own little world?

Lambert: Yes. But unfortunately I have to share it with all of you.

***

Lambert, drunk as shit: Give me my sword!

Geralt, also drunk, handing him a plastic butter knife: Here you are, my liege.

Lambert: Thank you, peasant.

Lambert, pointing the knife at Eskel: SURRENDER OR FACE MY WRATH.

Eskel, late and sober: Are... Are you kidding? You’re joking right-

Geralt: DO NOT INSULT M’LORD.

***

Lambert: Hey, do you think I could fit fifteen marshmallows in my mouth?

Berengar: You're a hazard to society.

Geralt: And a coward, do twenty!

Eskel, to Berengar: Have you ever just looked at someone and knew the wheel was turning but the hamster was dead?

Berengar: Everytime I look at these two.

***

Geralt: Taco cat spelled backwards is still taco cat.

Eskel: I don’t know what to do with this information.

Lambert: Dog food lid spelled backwards is dildo of god.

Eskel: I don’t know what to do with this information either.

Berengar: Crack? Is that what you two smoke? Do you smoke crack?

***

Lambert: *does something selfless without making a joke of it and genuinely being nice*

Eskel: So you do have feelings after all?

Lambert: *shrugging* When I have the time.

***

Geralt: They call me coffee because I grind so fine.

Eskel: Oh my God.

Berengar: They call me coffee because I keep you up past 2 a.m.

Eskel: Stop.

Lambert: They call me coffee-

Eskel: Please don’t.

Lambert: -because I’m dark and bitter and most people don’t like me without changing some aspect of who I am.

Eskel: Oh.

Lambert: Sorry, thats just my train of thought.

Geralt: Or as we like to call it-

Berengar: The Anxiety Express. Don't worry, I have one of these too. I thought I was in a bad mood, but it’s been a few years now. So I guess this is just who I am now.

Eskel: Am I the only normal child here?

***

Berengar: Being a pessimist is great. I'm always either right or pleasantly surprised.

Eskel: That’s an awfully optimistic take on pessimism.

***

Lambert: Oh, are you *covers Eskel’s ears* kidding me?

Berengar: That... wasn’t a swear word.

Lambert: It’s not? *sighs* Ah, shit! I swear so much, I don’t even fucking know the difference anymore!

***

Berengar: At my age, do you know how I’m statistically most likely to die?

Geralt: At the hands of your brother?

Berengar: An accident.

Geralt: That’s how I’m going to make it look.

Berengar: You can’t kill me if I kill myself first.

Vesemir: WHAT KIND OF LOGIC IS THAT?!

Geralt: Actually, yours.

***

Geralt: Has anyone ever told you to keep your damn mouth shut?

Lambert: Everyone. All the time.

***

Lambert, drunk: Hold on! I’m having one of those things… a headache with pictures?

Berengar: What the fuck?

Eskel: He's having an idea.

***

Geralt: *Can’t find Lambert in a crowd* Shit, we lost him.

Eskel: This calls for drastic measures.

Eskel: VESEMIR IS A GREAT FATHER!

Lambert: WHAT?!?!!

Eskel: There he is.

*meanwhile*

Berengar: Excuse me. I lost my youngers brothers, in a crowd. Can I make an announcement?

Store Clerk: Of course.

Berengar: *leans into mic*

Berengar: Goodbye, you little shits.

*later*

Berengar: All in all, a 100% successful trip.

Vesemir: Berengar, you lost all your brothers!

Berengar: All in all, a 100% successful trip.

Vesemir: Prepare to feel really bad about yourself!

Berengar: Oh yeah? I’ve been prepared for that my whole life.

***

Vesemir: There will come a moment when you have the chance to do the right thing.

Berengar: I love those moments. I like to wave at them as they pass by.

Vesemir: There are always lessons in failures...

Berengar: Ah, yes, this must be why you are very wise by now.

Vesemir: Yup, I have four of you.

***

Lambert: *throws open balcony doors at 6am*

Lambert: GOOD MORNING WORLD!

Berengar *from the lower balcony* Shut the fuck up!!!

Lambert: YOUR LITTLE RAY OF SARCASTIC SUNSHINE HAS ARRIVED!

Berengar: Lambert, let me ask you a question.

Lambert: Shoot.

Berengar: Is there any part of “shut the fuck up” that you don’t understand? 'Cause I’d be happy to explain it to you.

.

[stardustanthem]

‘The Infamous Geralt of Rivia’ | Witcher x Female Reader

// A/N: THIS IS MY FIRST TIME DOING ANYTHING LIKE THIS BUT I’LL BE DAMNED IF I DONT TRY

Pairing: Geralt x Reader (more of an adventurous way, but who knows what could happen if I make more parts.)

Description: Traveling in the countryside you find Jaskier dragging you into trouble yet again, only to meet the one and only Geralt of Rivia, and his... child surprise?

Warnings: Noooooneeeee

—

The continent as far as the eye could see was all the same. Grass, trees, monster, more grass, more trees, and oh look- another monster. Typically your time spent in the continent was among the trees, main roads are a bother and a sure way to get yourself into trouble. Robbers and thieves aren’t worth the stamina, but a striga? An alghoul? You’d much rather take your chances with a monster worth a few coins.

“Good gods, Y/N, how much longer until we stop to rest? My feet are absolutely killing me,” Jaskier whines like a child up at you from his place on the ground. He doesn’t get to ride your horse, she doesn’t like men, and it’s unfortunate for you because Jaskier complains majority of the time you’re traveling.

You grunt, looking down at him from the side of your cloak hood. You hope your eyes are glaring, but with your cloak in the way it’s hard to tell, “Jaskier, you complain a lot for a fairy within kicking distance of my horses ass.” You pull the reins to stop your horse as a bluff causing Jaskier to begin blubbering in horror. You find yourself laughing softly before continuing on into the forest, Jaskier pouting beside you in an irritable funk.

The bard is funny, but you’d never admit this. He’s been your companion on the road since you bumped into him on the outskirts of Sodden. No surprise at all he was singing a ballad, something you’d heard murmured within the walls of the pubs across the continent. Toss a coin to your Witcher...

Yet when you found Jaskier he wasn’t sober.. and he certainly wasn’t happy when he was singing it. He was crying, an absolute mess of tears and snot over his lute next to a swamp, definitely home to a Kikimora. You took pity on the bard and invited him along with you to town for some ale.

Your mistake was thinking Jaskier was only going to accompany you as long as the pub, and now here you are weeks later. Though his complaining is annoying, and he can’t stop singing that damn song, he’s okay to have around. You’d been talking to your horse, Sera, for far too long. Even if Jaskier wasn’t going to be around forever, you at least had a companion for now.

At the top of a hill to the right of the trail you hear a horse huffing softly, followed by a few grunts. Suddenly you see the tops of the trees glow dimly from a fire source on the ground somewhere up there. Another person. You push Sera on, ignoring the protests of Jaskier behind you. You don’t trust random people in the woods, that’s the whole point of taking the backroads. You want to avoid people.

You can hear Jaskier scrambling up the hill toward the fire, muttering nonsense about ‘knowing that horse anywhere’, when suddenly you can hear him releasing a sigh of relief as he reaches the top of the hill. You stop Sera, turning your gaze toward the top of the hill. You see the bard standing with his back to you, the fire making his figure look like a shadow before he steps out of your vision entirely. Does he know the owner of the fire? Damn it, Jaskier.

You grunt to yourself, turning Sera to a shitty path taking you up to the top of the hill. You could tell that even she was tired, but you’d never been scared of pushing her a little further before. Somehow though, you feel this encounter will make for an interesting evening. You reach beneath your cloak to your belt holding both of your daggers. Your sword was strapped to your back, but that would be too obvious a move if you needed to act.

You never expected to see Jaskier doing actual labor, and despite yourself seeing him carry wood towards the fire made you gasp in surprise. Two heads turned towards you at the sound, one pair of eyes already on you. Gold.

“Ah, Y/N, I was wondering if you would swallow your pride and-” Jaskier started as you climbed off of Sera. You cut him off with a glare, shoving your hood off of your head. He sighed and sat down next to the white haired man.

“Thank you for the invitation, Jaskier.” You grumbled, before turning towards the man next to him, “I’m Y/N, a wanderer of the continent. Forgive my intrusion, but that’s my bard.” You pointed a gloved hand at Jaskier and shot him a look. He returned your gaze apologetically.

You released Sera’s reins and place the sword on your back in a sheath attached to her saddle, knowing well she wouldn’t wander without you, before finding your own seat across the fire from a young girl, a white haired man, and Jaskier. It was silent until you heard the golden eyed man release a grunt, “Actually, that bard is mine.” You felt yourself stiffen, instinctively reaching for the dagger beneath your cloak.

Jaskier, despite himself, released a child-like giggle, “Oh please, don’t fight over me.” You and the man both turned on Jaskier releasing a grunt of disapproval before turning back towards each other. You had your hand gripped so tightly on your dagger it was hurting. You could feel the burn of his gaze as his jaw clenched tighter, “Geralt... Y/N...”

You felt yourself relax slightly watching Geralt settle back into his position by the fire. The young girl next to him stared at you, smiling slightly when your eyes met hers. You turned back to Geralt, “Might I join you for the evening? I won’t be leaving without Jaskier.” The girl next to Geralt scoffs softly, before glancing at Geralt, “Is this girl your... daughter? Might she have a name?”

To this Geralt grabs his sword and drapes it across his lap, “The girl is no concern of yours. You touch her and I’ll kill you.” You feel yourself growing tired of the tension. You don’t know these people, but Jaskier does and despite his awful coping mechanisms and taste in women, you do trust that he would never put you in danger. Jaskier has been staring at you too, he gives you a pleading look, and just for your friend you comply.

You rise to your feet, noticing how quickly Geralt stands with his sword in hand, before you drop your cloak from your body. You release your daggers from their belt and set them on the ground before you, “I also have a sword on my horse, Sera. You may hold onto it if you wish. I wish you and the girl no harm, as I stated I will not be leaving without Jaskier, my bard.” You drop back down onto the log across from Geralt, watching as he sheaths his weapon and sits back down.

“Your bard used to be my bard,” Geralt grumbled before taking the roasted animal off of the stick over the fire. He offered some to the girl, some to Jaskier and some for himself. He didn’t shoot you a glance as he put the stick back on the fire, “Jaskier tells me that you kill monsters as well.” You furrow your brows at this.

“As well?” You pry, glancing at Jaskier. Does the man with the lute only keep monster hunters as friends? How strange.

Geralt chuckles, “I’m a Witcher, Y/N the wanderer. Geralt of Rivia, and though I am cautious of you, Jaskier wouldnt bring a companion to my fire and start a fight.” He lifted the stick off the fire and stood, making his way over to you with the leftovers. He stands over you, his golden eyes staring into yours as he offers you the last of their food.

You take the stick and lean past Geralt looking towards the girl, “If you are still hungry you may have what’s left. I ate earlier today, I won’t eat this if you’re hungry.” The young girl smiles as she licks her fingers before coming to sit next to you. Her small, dirty hands grab the food from you. You watch intently as she dissects the cooked meat in half, giving you some and keeping the rest for herself.

Geralt is staring down at the two of you watch the tender moment just as the young girl speaks, “I’m Ciri, Geralt’s Child surprise.” She giggles softly to herself, looking up at the Witcher. He releases a soft grunt before sitting down next to Jaskier. They fall into a soft conversation, watching the two of you from time to time.

The evening winds down into a soft montage of laughter and warmth between Ciri and yourself. You had never experienced something like this. You had never allowed yourself to open up to people before, only Jaskier. People usually accused you of being a Witcher, which makes no sense as women can’t survive the mutations it takes, but you were trained from a young age on how to care for yourself. Sword and all. Your mother was a healer, and your father a former military general, were quite the odd pair. They died of old age, gods rest their souls.

“Y/N, are you going to camp with us the rest of the evening?” Ciri pulled you from your thoughts, looking at you expectantly. You glance over at Geralt and Jaskier, their conversation coming to a complete stop.

You stare at the young girl and release a soft sigh before giving her a smile, “I’m sure Jaskier wouldn’t mind the rest, as long as Geralt says it’s okay.” You turn your body towards Geralt meeting his golden gaze with a smile, “What do you say, Witcher? Can you spare some room for the two of us around your fire?”

Geralt moves his eyes from yours to Ciri’s, before coming back to you and giving you a curt nod, “For the evening. We have a long journey ahead of us and can’t drag along two more travelers,” Geralt turns to Jaskier and pats his shoulder, “Sorry, Jaskier.” Jaskier smiled slightly, nodding at Geralt before rising to his feet and grabbing our travel blankets from Sera’s saddle. Somehow she had managed to moved closer to the other horse tied off on a tree.

“Is that your horse, Geralt? Seems Sera is fond of the company.” You laugh softly earning a grunt from Geralt. You rise to your feet to help Ciri set up a comfortable bed. She settled over the blanket, and you offered your cloak as a blanket, not feeling yourself grow tired yet. Jaskier handed you your blanket and set his up on the opposite side of Ciri. You heard his soft goodnight as he settled into sleep with his lute.

It was just you and the Witcher now, his golden eyes shining brighter as they stared into the dwindling fire. You cleared your throat softly gaining his attention, “Thank you for allowing me to spend time with you and Ciri this evening, I know Jaskier appreciates it too.”

He raises his eyebrows thoughtfully, turning his gaze back to the fire, “When Ciri and I have finished our quest I would like for us to cross paths again. Jaskier and I left off on a bad note, and as much as I hate him, I do owe him another adventure to make up for how I left things.” He shifted, his elbows sitting on his knees. You feel a twinge of courage rise in your gut, giving your tired legs elevation. You slowly rose to your feet and moved to sit next to Geralt. A stranger turned aquaintance.

“I wouldn’t mind if our paths also crossed again, Geralt. I’m sorry for coming on so mistrusting. Forgive me. Most people we encounter on the trails aren’t exactly polite,” you turn your gaze away from Geralt and back to the fire, running a hand through your tangled hair. You feel his hand on your arm, rough and calloused. Heat rising in your cheeks, you meet his gaze.

“Ciri seems to like you, that’s reason enough for me to forgive your hesitation. It’s the way of our people,” He speaks roughly, exhaustion in his voice. Our people. He considers you a Witcher? You’re beyond flattered, but almost feel a pang of guilt for letting yourself bask in the glory of such a title. You’re not a Witcher, and though this life wasn’t chosen, you don’t hold the same abilities as a Witcher.

“I’m sorry, Geralt, but I’m not-”

“I know you aren’t a Witcher, women can’t survive the mutations. Yet I know you were raised as I was. Maybe without the magic, and the mutagens, but we have the same way of life and I respect it nonetheless.”

Geralt rises to his feet and stretches his arms over his head before walking around Jaskier and the fire over to Ciri. He brushes her hair out of her face and pulls your cloak up higher over her head before laying down next to her. He lays on his side, staring at you. You keep his gaze, absolutely captivated by the being Jaskier had accidentally led you to meet. Destiny.

“Goodnight, Geralt,” You mutter softly as you see his eyes close.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

———

[threephasebird]

New thing I can’t stop thinking about: What if Geralt, unlikely as it might seem, gets talkative when drunk? And of course he meticulously avoids drinking too much in company and no one (besides Eskel and Lambert, maybe) knows his secret, but it’s bound to happen eventually, isn’t it? And of course, one day Jaskier saunters into a tavern somewhere in the middle of nowhere, spots Geralt at a table in a corner and walks up to him with a smile on his lips and a hand on his hips, saying, as he stops to look at him, “Geralt! What brings you to this remarkably unremarkable place?”, and without pausing for him to answer, he slides into his booth. “Ohh, that’s fun”, he says, “Let me guess –”

– maybe, he muses, his imagination running wild already, maybe Geralt was cursed and has been running with a pack of wolves ever since their last meeting, only having been released by his true love’s kiss this very night – although, he’d have to be tragically naked and without coin, and the table littered with empty tankards definitely tells the tale of a full purse. Well, not his best idea, then. Still, the prospect of riling Geralt up with increasingly absurd, yet artfully embellished explanations of how he ended up here fills Jaskier with gleeful anticipation. Maybe a thrilling love affair with the mysterious duke living in the castle on the mountain that ended years ago, only for Geralt’s aching heart prompting him now to return to –

“I’m on my way back to Kaer Morhen”, Geralt grunts.

That’s new, and a little bit rude, seeing how Jaskier didn’t get to propose a single one of the tales he’s spun.

What’s worse, he also doesn’t even get to finish giving him a deeply suspicious once over before Geralt – and Jaskier feels the sudden need to grab the tabletop for support, or maybe dab his forehead with a delicate lace handkerchief – continues to speak. “I had to fulfill a few contracts in order to stack up on coin again”, he says, staring moodily into the tankard that’s currently occupying his hands. Then he has the audacity to raise his gaze and fix his (stunning, beautiful, breathtaking) eyes on Jaskier as he mumbles, “I miss Ciri, though. If I leave first thing in the morning, I might make it back there in two weeks time.”

Jaskier is dimly aware that his mouth is hanging open and makes a conscious effort to close it. He’ll have to tell himself that this is fine, only that it’ll have to wait a bit because he really, really needs to gather himself and –

“I’ve been on the road for over a month”, Geralt continues musing, though, not taking notice of Jaskier’s desperate silent plea to hold on for a minute and clarify what the hell has gotten into Geralt. “Haven’t spoken to anyone but Roach. She, uh –”, and now, on top of everything else, the corners of Geralt’s mouth are twitching, “said she misses your music and your endless chattering. I’ve been hoping to run into you, but then, what are the chances of it actually happening?”

Jaskier – well, it feels a bit weird, because it’s Geralt, but then again, Geralt has told him time and time again to be more careful and less trusting, so he tries his best to inconspiciously get hold of the grip of the silver knife that’s been strapped to his belt ever since Geralt unceremoniously dropped it in his lap with a grunt after an unfortunate run-in with a Mourntart. “Geralt?”, he says, and he’s very proud that his voice comes out so firm that it seems to snap his friend out of his musings, “What’s wrong with you?”

Geralt stares at him for a few long seconds without blinking, which, uh, doesn’t do much for Jaskier’s focus on the matters at hand.(Stunning, beautiful, breathtaking indeed – he’d vow to write a song about Geralt’s eyes one day if it weren’t for the fact that he already did. Multiple times. It’s been a while, alright.) Finally, Geralt releases him and drops his gaze, which then lands on Jaskier’s hand and the knife, and something that could count as a grin is starting to spread on his face. “Nothing”, he says. “I’m fine. Don’t hurt yourself with that.”

Jaskier sputters. “I’ll have you known that I am perfectly capable of – but that’s not the point, isn’t it? The point is that something is very much not alright with you, Geralt!” He points his knife-free hand at him accusingly, for emphasis. “And you’ll tell me what it is right now! Are you cursed? Did someone slip a potion in your drink?” He gazes wildly around the tavern, trying to locate any possible culprits. “Or”, and at that his eyes narrow and he pulls out the knife from under the table after all, stopping with the finger-pointing and pointing the blade instead, “are you not Geralt at all?”

“Jaskier”, Geralt says with annoying and suspicious gentleness, “We’re in a tavern. People are staring at us again. I’m fine, please remove your knife.”

“Not unless”, Jaskier says slowly, “– not unless you tell me something that only the real Geralt could know!” He smiles, mildly impressed by his own cleverness, and Geralt sighs. “I just told you that I’m on my way to see Ciri, does that not count? Fine”, he says with another smile as Jaskier shakes his head, “only the real Geralt would know that –”

“By which you mean yourself?”

“By which I very much mean myself, Jaskier”, Geralt says, and his smile deepens, but he also rolls his eyes a little bit, which makes him appear more like himself alright. “Only I know that –”, Geralt gazes into his tankard contemplatively, “– you snore when you sleep on your back”, he says after a moment, and before Jaskier can open his mouth to protest in indignation, he presses on. “Only the real me knows that you can’t even shut up when you’re sleeping. That you sometimes wake up with your arms wrapped around me and wait for a few moments with your heart hammering before you remove yourself and pretend it never happened – although I don’t know why”, he adds, and whatever kind of information Geralt has on his heart rate, Jaskier is sure he’s just doubled the record. “Can you tell me why?”, Geralt repeats thoughtfully, and, yes, this is it, this is the moment Jaskier finally succumbs to his stupid crush and just dies –

– and then their eyes meet and Jaskier notices – oh shit, now that he notices how Geralt’s gaze is slightly unfocused, other pieces of information finally start falling into place: The table littered with empty glasses, the ever-so-slight slur of Geralt’s voice, how uncharacteristically unguarded he is…

“Shit, Geralt”, Jaskier says and lowers his knife. "Are you drunk?”

Geralt nods and smiles uncertainly at him.

“Wait”, Jaskier says, because his brain is still struggling to catch up with the situation, "How come I’ve never seen you like this? You’ve been drunk plenty of times while I was there, why are you suddenly so –”, he gesticulates helplessly at Geralt.

"I don’t get drunk”, Geralt mumbles, “Not when I’m with other people. Just tipsy. I only ever get drunk alone. I tend to –”, he grimaces and lowers his voice, "Speak a lot when I drink too much.”

“I noticed”, Jaskier says faintly.

"Now you know”, Geralt says matter-of-factly and glances into his tankard again. Jaskier dimly wonders if he should snatch it away from him to prevent him from drinking even more. "Fitting, isn’t it? Yet another thing that only you managed to uncover.” Geralt smiles again and fuck, that smile is doing things to Jaskier’’s heart. Suddenly, he’s overcome by the impulse to reach out for Geralt’s hands and press a kiss to his knuckles, or to climb over the table and sweep him in a hug and never let go, but Geralt looks like he’s zoning out staring at Jaskier, and fuck once more, how drunk exactly is he?

“I was lying earlier”, Geralt mumbles. "It’s not just Roach who missed you.”

With a swift motion, Jaskier is on his feet. "That’s it”, he says, because there’s no way he can deal with this any longer, "we’re getting you sobered up now.”

~ fin & dedicated to @eventual-consistency​ whose ear I talk off when tipsy, which inspired this AU ✧˖° ✧˖°