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#geraskier modern au
milsuphaart · 1 year
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The first date and the last date (as boyfriends)
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julek · 2 years
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“Geraaaaalt,” says Jaskier, his voice comically nasal.
“Mm,” Geralt replies, his eyes fixed on their TV screen where an action film Jaskier couldn’t care less about is playing.
Jaskier sniffles miserably, cuddling closer to him. At least Geralt has the decency to tighten the arm that’s wrapped around Jaskier. “I want cake,” he declares. “Birthday cake.”
“It isn’t your birthday,” Geralt says, looking down at him.
“Well, no,” Jaskier says, pausing to blow his nose (and half a brain) into a tissue. “But I’m sure it’s someone’s birthday today. It must be. There are at least a hundred people walking this Earth on this fine day, one of them must be celebrating.”
Jaskier emphasizes his point by kicking the blanket off his legs, because even though he’d just complained to Geralt that he was freezing cold, a wave of heat washes over his body. Ugh.
“Mm,” Geralt says, eyes back on the screen. “But I’m comfortable.”
And he is, is the thing — he took his time deciding which blanket he wanted to lay on the bed, and putting his favorite woolen socks on, and choosing a film for them to watch, and making their favorite tea for them.
And Jaskier loves him for it. Truly. But—
“Geraaaalt,” Jaskier wheedles. “Whatever happened to in sickness and in health? With you, the man of the house, the provider for your chosen mate?”
“Are you running a fever again?” Geralt replies, burrowing closer into Jaskier’s side. “Has the delirium finally reached your brain?”
What would be a full-bodied gasp of outrage comes out as a pitiful whine. “Is my convalescence something to be made fun of?” Jaskier says, wiggling up until he can look Geralt in the eye, gazing at him with the best put-upon look he can manage. “Do you stand at my grave and mock me, Geralt?”
“So dramatic,” Geralt says with a fond smile, reaching and pushing Jaskier’s hair back with his hand. “Is that your last wish, then? Birthday cake?”
“It is,” Jaskier says, leaning into his touch and pouting. “And it would make me the happiest man on Earth to share it with you. One last time.”
“Mm,” Geralt hums, unconvinced, even has he sits on the bed and begins putting his shoes on.
“My love for you knows no ends,” Jaskier says from the bed as Geralt looks for his wallet. “You are a star in a dark night, a rose in a desert, a—”
“I’ll text you when I’m there,” Geralt says, putting his hood up.
“Perfect!” Jaskier says excitedly. “I want chocolate cake. No— strawberry. No! Chocolate with strawberries. And that buttercream you know I love—”
“I’m leaving.”
“—and maybe some of those tiny chocolate treats they put on top, and— ooh! Maybe some—”
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bae-owyn · 5 months
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Jaskier was having the worst day. The casting agents for an audition he thought he’d nailed had called to say they were ‘going in another direction’, his tube line was down due to signalling problems, it was raining harder than he’d seen it in years and he’d left his only good coat, the one with a hood, in the pub that he and Geralt had met Priss in a week earlier. That night, squished in-between his boyfriend and his best friend, Jaskier had thought he was the luckiest guy in the world. Tonight, he wasn’t sure which demonic entity he’d managed to piss off between waking up and arriving in Soho but it must have been personal. The phone call he was having with his remaining 3% battery, icy cold rain dripping down his hair and down his back, was the final straw. It's Geralt and Jaskier's first Valentines Day as a couple, but are they about to be outshone by Lambert and his mystery date? This is a follow up to my Christmas at Kaer Morhen series, and like the rest of the fics in the collection you can read it as a standalone - but for all the backstory and more fun with this merry band of morons, check out the full works starting with A Place For Crows To Rest Their Feet!
The Valentines fic in October that nobody asked for! I drafted half of this at the start of the year, got too busy to finish it, and then promptly forgot about it. When I found it in my drafts today I just had to see it off, and yes I could have waited until next Valentines Day to post it... but by then I'd probably have forgotten about it again.
So! Have a very early (or very late, depending on how you look at it) treat!
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You’re Home
we need a little levity, yeah? dont judge me its excessively self indulgent
CW: geraskier, modern au, roommates, pre relationship, domestic fluff, geralt doesn’t realize jask is home
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Jaskier had a blissful morning off work. He turned his alarm off the night before, changed his sheets, and even remembered to set the blinds how he liked them before going to bed so he would wake up to a soft sunny glow instead of blinding direct sunlight. His lie-in would be peaceful and comfortable come hell or high water. 
Only in the morning, he woke in confusion, reaching out to slap at an alarm he thought was going off but was totally silent. As he blinked awake and ran his hands through his messy hair, he realized Geralt was playing music. Loud music. His roommate wasn’t usually a morning person, let alone a loud person in general, but then again Jaskier usually got his music playing first. Looking over at his clock once again, Jaskier realized it wasn’t all that early in the morning anymore. 
He shrugged and made to scroll through his phone a bit before he gave in to the urge to pee and actually got up. After a few Green Day songs Scotty Doesn’t Know came on and Jaskier smirked. Of course, Geralt would be a grungy emo child. About halfway through the song, Jaskier thought he heard Geralt calling for him, but upon putting his phone down and tuning in, it was Geralt singing along. In the five or so months they’d lived together and years of knowing each other, Jaskier had never heard Geralt sing. He thought Geralt was one of those weirdos who just never sang. 
Seizing the opportunity, Jaskier stealthily climbed out of bed and pulled his sweats on before poking his head out of his room. The song changed to Pressure by Paramore and Geralt’s voice continued crooning along if a key or octave lower than Miss Williams. He had a lovely voice, a little gravely like his speaking voice, but still clear and strong. Jaskier found himself grinning as he tiptoed down the hallway toward the kitchen/living area. 
It sounded like Geralt was making breakfast during his concert, lost enough in his music that he didn’t notice Jaskier leaning against the archway watching him dance as he whisked eggs. American Idiot came on next and Geralt definitely spilled some eggs on the counter as he jumped and flailed his arms around yelling along. Jaskier’s heart almost hurt it was so cute, he wanted to kiss Geralt on a normal day, but the cute aggression may actually get him in trouble this time. I Just Wanna Live by Good Charlotte was next and Jaskier couldn’t take it anymore. Geralt dancing around their kitchen like a club in 2004 was just too much for his heart to take, let alone how much his cheeks hurt from smiling. 
Instead of saying anything, Jaskier just calmly walked into the room and sat at their little breakfast bar, resting his chin on his hands and waiting patiently for Geralt to notice him. He watched him with the stupidest smitten grin on his face for at least two more songs, doing his best not to giggle or give himself away now that he was in clear view. 
Geralt finally turned away from the stove in the middle of The Kill by Thirty Seconds to Mars and froze like a deer in the headlights. His eyes nearly bulged out of his skull and the plate full of a massive omelet almost fell right out of his hands. 
“I didn’t know you could sing,” Jaskier mused, entirely unwilling and incapable of wiping the smitten smile off his face, still just staring back at Geralt. 
Blinking and slowly setting the plate down on their counter, Geralt finally found some words, “You’re home.”
Jaskier nodded, “Mind pouring me a cup of coffee? Since you’re right there?”
Squinting but doing as he was asked, Geralt poured him a cup of coffee and even added his favorite creamer without prompting before setting it in front of him, “We don't need to talk about this… do we?”
“Talk about what?” Jaskier pauses just long enough to see Geralt relax before he grinned and muttered, “You’re adorable and you sound nice,” into his coffee. 
Geralt’s nose scrunched up as he cut into his omelet and muttered, “Not adorable…”
“Oh, I beg to differ! That was extremely cute!” Jaskier laughed as Geralt folded his arms on the counter and bent down to hide his face in his arms, “I mean it!”
“Stoooop Jask,” Geral groaned, not able to hide the little laugh as hard as he tried. 
“Absolutely not. That was cute and I will never tell you when I have a surprise day off again,” Jaskier insisted, reaching across the counter to steal a bite of his omelet as he spoke. 
Still talking into his arms, Geralt’s muffled voice sounded downright miserable, “How long were you there?”
“Since Pressure? American Idiot? A long time.”
“You’re evil.”
“And you’re a fantastic cook. Can I have this if you’re just going to be very cutely embarrassed?” Jaskier reached for Geralt’s plate as he asked, not even caring if Geralt responded and hell-bent on stealing his food regardless. 
“No,” Geralt snatched the plate out of his reach before he could grab it, earning him Jaskier’s full-power puppy eyes, “I’ll make you your own. This one has tomatoes in it anyway.”
Jaskier made a mental note to sob over a bottle of wine to Yen about how absolutely fucked he was, but he smiled and let himself enjoy it anyway. Geralt even started humming quietly as he cooked another omelet. No other lover would do for Jaskier, regardless of whether or not he ever told Geralt how he felt. 
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ahh-fxck · 11 months
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Warrior’s Blues STANDALONE Special! Happy extremely belated birthday!!
Hey fam! @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde​​ had a birthday many months ago, and ON THAT DAY I became very inspired to write them a short standalone from Warrior’s Blues. Just a little softness and sentimentality, with a side of smut. Or is it smut, with a side of softness and sentimentality? EITHER WAY FRIEND, HERE IS YOUR BIRTHDAY “CAKE” FIFTY YEARS LATE PLEASE ENJOY!
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Chapter: STANDALONE
Tags/warnings: Smut, internalized homophobia
Beta: @stressedspidergirlsfandomblog​
Ao3: Sunlight and Silver
Geralt floats, listening to the mourning doves cooing outside the window and enjoying the subtle rhythm of his lover's breath. His skin tingles with warmth where their bodies press together, unaccustomed and maddeningly sweet to his starved senses. Between his thighs he can feel his cock slowly hardening, a lazy but insistent pleasure that he's all too ready to give in to. He opens his eyes and sighs, too dizzy with desire to think. He doesn’t want to think anyway. For once in his life, for one stupid, stolen moment, he just wants to enjoy the gift of a lover’s presence...
Light filters through the lace curtains every morning, as it has every day for this past week. Geralt can smell it before he even opens his eyes. It wakes the scents of the old wood floor, the well-loved rug, the laundry crumpled on the floor, even the faintest hint of sweat. They twine together, forming the scent that he’s come to associate with the man sleeping peacefully beside him. Geralt floats, listening to the mourning doves cooing outside the window and enjoying the subtle rhythm of his lover's breath. His skin tingles with warmth where their bodies press together, unaccustomed and maddeningly sweet to his starved senses. Between his thighs he can feel his cock slowly hardening, a lazy but insistent pleasure that he's all too ready to give in to. He opens his eyes and sighs, too dizzy with desire to think. He doesn’t want to think anyway. For once in his life, for one stupid, stolen moment, he just wants to enjoy the gift of a lover’s presence. Gingerly, ignoring how his gut tightens with guilt, he sits up on his elbow to look. Jaskier is beautiful in the buttery light, stubble and all. One arm is sprawled carelessly over his head and his plush lips are parted in slumber. Geralt’s gaze softens, remembering how good they are to kiss. Then he looks lower, wandering down his exposed throat, down to his chest and the soft whorls of hair that cover it. Pink nipples peek out between the curls, standing half-erect. His tongue remembers the soft warm salt of his skin, the pleasure of feeling those nipples draw taut, and a curl of velvet heat unfurls within him. It’s headier than any liquor Geralt’s ever had and it leaves his head spinning. His lips part subconsciously, half leaning forward as he is seized with the urge to taste him again, to hear his soft sounds. He pulls up short before he reaches out though, uncertainty and fear pulling painfully at his chest. In an instant the bitterness rushes back, but before he can panic and climb out of the bed, he hears a sleepy murmur. “Good morning, gorgeous.” Geralt's gaze snaps back up. Hooded cerulean eyes greet him, alight with interest. Geralt swallows, flustered. Jaskier breaks into a lopsided, thoughtful smile, then gives a languid stretch. Unable to help himself, Geralt's eyes follow his chest as it rises into the sunbeam and sinks back. "See something you like?" Jaskier settles back into the sheets, the corner of his mouth tugging upward as he sees Geralt's eyes widen. Geralt looks like a starving man who's gotten caught breaking into a banquet, and now he eyes Jaskier uncertainly, as if he's afraid that he'll be asked to leave. As if he's almost more afraid that he'll be asked to stay. "Uh," Geralt fumbles, color rising to his cheeks. Jaskier reaches out, tipping his chin up to look into his eyes. His smile widens slowly, feeling the tug of the sheets as Geralt's erection twitches. "Well, I do," he says, leaning up to catch his lips in a kiss. Geralt gives a soft, breathy groan that Jaskier feels all the way down to his toes, waking a welcome electricity in his body. He opens his mouth, capturing Geralt's lower lip and lapping delicately at it, pausing to see what reaction this elicits. To his delight, Geralt leans in with a low murmur of pleasure, inviting him in for more. They tumble back to the bed in a dream of golden sunlight and tangled limbs. Hands sweep the length of flanks and thighs, hungry, exploring. Their tongues curl and dance, tasting one another, and for a time there is only the sea of their bodies moving to the rise and fall of their breath. Geralt presses Jaskier down, finally tasting the salt and sweetness of his lover's skin, mouthing hungrily across his pecs and curling his tongue around the tips of each of his nipples at last. Jaskier twists under him, murmuring under his breath. He arches up, his hard cock drawing a bead of heat up Geralt's stomach. Geralt goes weak at the knees and Jaskier follows him down, turning him over and sliding atop him with the easy grace of a dancer. They ebb and flow until they're sweating and panting in the morning heat, until something finally has to give. Geralt groans, his hand tightening on Jaskier's hip and slowing him, guiding him lower. He slots his cock into the slick hollow of Jaskier's hip, holding it in place with his thumb. He begins to grind, his flushed face taking on an intent look. As he finds his rhythm, Jaskier shudders pleasantly against him, dropping his sweaty head to Geralt's shoulder. He cants his hips to give Geralt the friction he's so desperately craving, letting out a low, filthy moan as Geralt begins to rut in earnest. Geralt rubs his stubbly cheek against the side of Jaskier's head, half-delirious with pleasure. Jaskier nuzzles him back, taking himself in hand at last. He fists his cock hard and fast, trembling and letting out a low, guttural noise. Geralt gives a loud, unaccustomed moan, overwhelmed by the pleasure of his lover's body pressed against him, half-frenzied by the drops of pre-cum dripping onto his thigh. He grips Jaskier closer, fucking up against him until his thighs are shaking, until he's coming in hot spurts. Jaskier gives wild cry, his hand working faster as Geralt holds him close. He mouthes at Jaskier's neck, scraping his teeth along his flushed skin, caught up in the rush of his pleasure. Jaskier stiffens, leaning into Geralt as his climax paints his sweating flank. Geralt lets out another unfettered moan, his eyes rolling back. Their bodies shudder tightly together, and for a moment there is nothing else. A dazed, sticky silence descends upon the room afterwards. For a long moment they linger together, reluctant to part and let the world in. The room is quiet around them, a little too warm now in the full brightness of the summer sun. The house creaks softly, waking just like the rest of the neighborhood. Outside, the sound of neighborhood traffic is starting to pick up, and the mourning doves are quieting at last. As their sweat cools, their muscles begin to protest. Eventually they part, wiping themselves down. Jaskier takes the first shower, leaving Geralt to stare at the ceiling. It's easier than staring at the days of laundry on the floor, which Jaskier's already given up the pretense of cleaning. Shame nibbles at him as his eyes follow the bumps and swirls of the plaster above him, stealing the heat out of the day bit by bit. By the time he slips past Jaskier into the bathroom to shower he feels a cold in his core that even the shower can't quite touch, no matter how hot he turns it up.   The patter of the water drowns out the sound of the house, but Geralt's shoulders still begin to tense as the shower goes on, his body bracing itself for the inevitable wall of ABBA that he's about to walk into once the water is off. Instead, he steps out into a pool of quiet so dense he feels his stomach lurch with disorientation, like he'd tried to step on a stair that wasn't actually there. He towels himself off in silence, disgruntled but oddly gratified. And when he is done, he finds himself tiptoeing back out into the bedroom so as not to disturb the blessed reprieve. Out here, he can hear the shuffle and thud of Jaskier moving about in the kitchen, and the dark aroma of coffee is starting to curl deliciously under the door. He pulls his pants on, his socks, his ears feeling oddly tender without the assault of the stereo. Then, as he pulls his shirt over his head, a new sound begins. "Dacw 'nghariad i lawr yn y berllan, Tw rym di ro rym di radl didl dal..." The words are unfamiliar to his ear, but the tune rises like silver through the air. It comes between the chop, chop, of a knife blade, notes so solemn and beautiful that they stop him in his tracks. He pauses with his shirt half-buttoned, listening to the lilt and sussurus of the melody. It touches something peculiar in him, skirting past the cold. It wakes something tight and tender behind his breastbone that makes him forget for a moment just how numb and useless he feels. By the time he has fumbled his socks on, the sound of chopping has become the hiss and scrape of the frying pan, and Jaskier is still singing. Geralt drifts to the door, drawn by the smell of good coffee and better cooking, but once again he finds himself hesitating. He hovers by the door, closing his eyes to hear the singing better, allowing it to wash over him. He'd never admit it aloud, but he loves it, every note. He lingers until the hiss of the frying pan goes quiet, until the song is long done and the creaks of the old house are the only music left. When he steps out of the bedroom, that peculiar feeling follows him, enfolding him in an oddly uplifting peace. The house feels like a sacred place, soft and warm and full of life. And at the back is Jaskier, somewhat sheepishly plating frittata for them both. Geralt finds himself thinking as he walks to the kitchen counter that maybe... However he ended up here... maybe it's a blessing after all.
@astouract​,​ @smolpoe​​, @yes-im-the-violin-girl​, @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde​, @ladyknight-keladry​, @your-lordsherlockholmes-posts​, @thepassifloradiscord​, @flightsfancy22​
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basskier · 2 years
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I've been screaming about this at @jesskier but I just can't keep it in any longer so if anyone gets inspired by this PLEASE go ahead!!
Modern witcher!au
Jaskier was an overexcited 18 yr old trying to make it as a singer/songwriter but had so far had little success besides a few unpayed gigs around the local bar scene.
Enter Geralt, standard meeting scene. One way or the other they become "friends". Two years later Geralt, under a shit ton of emotional pressure bursts out in vitriol (queue modern mountain scene).
An undefined time later, Geralt's had a rough contract and decides he needs a stiff drink if he wants any sleep tonight. Enters a bar, few patrons here and there. He sits at the end of the bar, nearest the exit, basically obscured from view. After two (maybe 3 maybe 4) 6es of whiskey he hears the plucking of guitar strings from the small stage on the other side of the room.
"Hi I'm Jaskier and I'll be the one hopefully adding to the ambiance of this lovely establishment. Blablabla"
Fuck. Geralt get's up from his seat as soon as the singer starts playing.
Starts playing. "I lost a friend."
He promptly sits his ass back down.
He feels like he's eavesdropping but he can't stop himself. He needs to hear what's been inside Jaskier's head & heart since they parted ways.
"And I'll be fine without him,
but all I do is write about him
How the hell did I lose a friend I never had?
I'd apologize
If I thought it might
Make a difference
Or make you listen"
Anyway check out Finneas - I lost a friend, it's a banger.
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honeysuckletook · 1 year
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Writing promt. Modern au jaskier discovering Taylor swift music because of ciri and they enjoy listening to it even though Geralt doesn't like it. Jaskier is still a musican of course. Famous or not famous up to writer
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fangirleaconmigo · 2 months
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Modern AU where Jaskier posts all of his song to youtube. He doesn't have very many hits so he doesn't think much about taking them all off one day when he is rethinking his social media strategy.
He is shocked when his handsome but introverted neighbor (Geralt is his name) calls him at one am panicking. (The man has never even used his number. Jaskier came up with some painfully transparent excuse about a neighborhood watch just to get him to take it.)
Geralt's daughter Ciri has woken up with a nightmare and apparently the only thing that gets her to sleep is Jaskier's singing. However, Geralt is panicking because can't find his videos. He rambles about not being able to find them anywhere and he feels stupid, bad at social media, he shouldn't have called, etc.
Jaskier is intrigued. "I didn't even know you knew about my music."
"You mention it every time I see you in the hall."
"Oh, you are unbearably blunt. Touche, touche. In my defense, I didn't know you listened when I rambled on."
"I do." His neighbor sounds affronted.
"Alright then."
"Is that a yes? You'll sing to her?"
Jaskier isn't done questioning him. "You really play her my music?"
*Pause*
"She hears your music."
"How."
"I might listen to your music at night. To wind down. She just overhears. She's gotten used to it."
Jaskier feels quite smug. "Well alright. Anything for my fans. Put the little one on."
Geralt rolls his eyes but smiles and puts the phone on speaker. Ciri shrieks with delight to hear Jaskier's voice. After she falls asleep, Geralt sneaks out of her room whispering a thank you.
"You know," Jaskier says playfully. "My voice is better live. I could come over sometimes to sing you lullabies in person."
Geralt is glad you can't hear a blush over the phone.
"Yes. Ok."
"Yes?" Jaskier crows.
"Yes. I'd like that."
--fin
Inspiration
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spielzeugkaiser · 1 year
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[MASTERPOST] Roach steals Jaskier the show, Jaskier has a nice community and the chat is thirsting for Geralts arms. 👀
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churchofpossum · 3 months
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I don't have a happy new year thing for this year bcs it sucked and I am just happy it is over. So here's one from last year, no idea if I ever posted it here. So happy new year to you, may all your resolutions come true.
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milsuphaart · 1 year
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Jaskier: Why are you wearing my scarf?
Geralt: Because you stole MY scarf!
Geralt secretly likes having Jaskier wear his scarf (or his other clothes), so he's not really angry with Jaskier.
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julek · 2 years
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36: stopping a kiss when it gets too heated for geraskier perhaps 💕
#36. stopping a kiss when it gets too heated
It’s been a lazy evening.
With the cool breeze of early autumn blowing fallen leaves outside, their routine has mostly consisted of a steady cycle of standing in front of the open fridge, willing something sweet and cake-shaped into existence, sitting on the couch then sliding onto the carpet then sitting on the couch again, watching old movies on the TV, ice cream tub in hand, and other shapes of doing-nothing-ness.
And kissing.
Lots of kissing.
It’s all so new between them, it still feels very delicate. Geralt can feel it in the way Jaskier’s hand frames his face, in the way his lips explore but don’t intrude. It’s sweet and exciting and it tugs at his heart in a way nothing has in a very long time, and every waking hour of every day he’s incensed with the knowledge that he can have this, that Jaskier is not walking away, that this is theirs to have. 
So in between all the couch-sitting, couch-sliding-off, there are many kisses. Stolen, some, when the other isn’t looking — like when Jaskier laughs at the cheesy dialogue of whatever rom-com is running in the background, and Geralt’s heart swells with a love that feels infinite, and he just has to kiss the grin off his face. Sweet, like when Geralt comes back from the kitchen with more popcorn and Jaskier thanks him with a gentle kiss to the forehead, almost like an afterthought. That’s what excites him — the fact that words, glances, almost everything can be reduced to a single action, a single kiss.
Like now, the movie completely and utterly forgotten as they kiss and kiss and kiss. Geralt doesn’t know how it started, or who did; all he knows is that Jaskier tastes like salt and butter and that he smells a little bit like the candle they burned a while ago, and that his hair is soft under Geralt’s hands and that he sighs into Geralt’s mouth from time to time, and it feels like heaven. 
Jaskier’s hands begin to wonder, too. They reach for Geralt’s face, then his jaw, then lower, lower, lower, tickling his sides. Geralt gasps, unbidden, as Jaskier’s fingers begin slowly opening the buttons of his shirt, teasing, his touch making Geralt’s skin erupt in gooseflesh. 
There’s a soft moan — Geralt couldn’t say who’s mouth it belongs to, lost in the feeling as he is — as Jaskier rocks forward, abandoning his seat on the couch to plant himself more firmly onto Geralt’s lap. The kiss grows more heated, their tongues meeting again and again, and suddenly, it becomes too much. 
Geralt gently taps Jaskier’s thigh as he pulls back a bit, and is relieved to see Jaskier’s mouth curl into a small smile. 
“Too much?” He asks Geralt, and there’s no condescendence in his tone, nothing but plain curiosity. 
“Yeah,” Geralt nods, letting out a small laugh. He can feel his face burn a bit, his cheeks warm to the touch. “Sorry.”
Jaskier sits back on his haunches and playfully swats Geralt’s arm. “No saying sorry. I’m glad you let me know.”
Geralt nods again, looking down at his hands. The ever-present feeling that he’s ruining things by not being enough is trying to make itself heard in his mind, but he closes his eyes and tries to focus on the nice things — the feeling of Jaskier’s skin against his, their hands locked together, the pleasant butterfly buzz in his stomach, the loving shade of blue in Jaskier’s eyes that tells him everything he needs to know. 
“I know,” he says out loud, and Jaskier smiles at him, squeezing his hand. “Could you come here anyway?”
Jaskier goes, of course, never in his life turning down cuddles, and it settles something in Geralt’s skin, the way they fit together so perfectly: the way Jaskier’s hair tickles his chin and how his arms can wrap around him like a blanket, warm and inviting. 
On the screen, Sally’s blue eyes are shining with tears. 
“I love you,” Jaskier says against his arm. “I can’t believe you distracted me during Harry’s big speech, though.”
Geralt nudges him. “He tells her he loves her even though she gets cold when it’s seventy degrees out,” he tells him. “And that he wants to spend the rest of their lives together.”
“Hmm,” Jaskier says thoughtfully. “Now that would be something, huh?”
His face is shining as the credits roll.
Geralt loves him to bits. 
“It would.”
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fandom-junk-drawer · 5 months
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Geralt and Yennefer dealing with Jaskier and Ciri's nonsense
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thedemonofcat · 5 months
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Some Modern co- parenting au: When Ciri found herself in a schoolyard brawl, the teacher's immediate concern was for her father, Geralt. Upon learning of the fight, Geralt's first question was whether she had emerged victorious.
The school then attempted to contact Ciri's mother, Yennefer, who, much like Geralt, inquired about the fight's outcome.
Finally, the school reached out to Ciri's stepfather, Jaskier, uncertain about his marital status with Geralt or Yennefer. Jaskier, once again, simply asked if Ciri had won the fight.
At this point, the school abandoned their efforts to get more information.
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ahh-fxck · 8 months
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Warrior’s Blues Chapter 16: When The Wind Tears Down The Leaves
HOLY SHIT it’s finally done. I am so happy to present to you (with trigger warnings) the next chapter of Warrior’s Blues! My life has been upside down bananas, but @stressedspidergirlsfandomblog​ the inestimable and incredibly awesome, has stuck by me through it and helped me get this chapter edited and ready for all of you. Thank you so much for your patience!! I literally could not wait until morning to post this.
Without further ado:
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Chapter 16: When the Wind Tears Down the Leaves
Tags/warnings: Geralt whump, graphic car accident, PTSD flashbacks
Beta: @stressedspidergirlsfandomblog​
Ao3: When the Wind Tears Down the Leaves
Comments welcome, and AS ALWAYS please let me know if you want to be added/removed from the tag list!​
“I don't need the details, just tell me the next most likely direction to look in," she interrupts, scowling at a fork in the tangle of roads.
“There are a few back roads up near-”
“Northeast or Northwest,” she snaps, aware that she’s being rude and well past the point of caring.
“Northeast,” he fires back, his own fraying temper sparking off. “Now listen here-”
“No you listen,” she says. “There’s a limited amount of shit that I’m going to take from a man who can’t remember to bring his own fucking towel out into a rainstorm-”
   The rain sheeted down as they ran single file through the darkness. The trees loomed over claustrophobic, clinging undergrowth. His heavy pack became more boulder-like with every step, the straps cutting into his shoulders and forcing the muscles along his spine to work overtime. The pain had been manageable at first but as the night wore on it fused into a solid ache from his temples to his fucking knees. His lungs burned and the only water he'd had for hours was the water sheeting across his face. Even so, each searing lungful was tinged with a peculiar gratitude- he was still alive.  
   In the distance, the eerie moan of a motor broke through the downpour. A ripple of fear ran through the line and they sped up, a wordless agreement passing amongst them as they veered away from the threat. They’d been running for hours now. They’d run for hours more, if that’s what it took to escape.  
   There is a screeching sound he can't place...  
There is a screeching sound he can't place and it's getting closer. His heart trips and begins to hammer against his ribcage as he lifts his head and shakes the rain from his face, eyes briefly focusing on the white line he is running parallel to. The screeching is all around him, swallowing his world whole-
Impact.
A car’s rear end whips into him sideways as it fishtails up the road, flicking him into the air like a child's toy. He has a brief moment of crystal clarity as the blow lifts him from his feet, watching the vehicle careen up the road flinging leaves and water in its wake. He realizes that the soul-devouring screech is coming from the car's brakes and tires, and that he's just been hit- then his world turns upside-down.
He flies with the debris through the dark, dizzy and weightless. Lights smear across his vision, and then the ground comes up to meet him. He hits it at speed, his shoulder catching on a lump of earth and flipping him into a tumble that flings sprays of dirt and dry evergreen needles. He finally comes to a halt at the foot of a tree and lays there, too dazed to process the pain that lurks on the horizon. The fragrant needles cling wetly to his skin, the musty breath of the freshly torn earth wafting across his face as he lays there panting.
In the distance the fishtailing vehicle pulls into a spin, horn blaring as it whirls into bright beams of light. This is followed by a loud BANG! Crushing, shearing metal joins the squealing of rubber and a frantic welter of water and light twirls up the road, almost elegant, as if the cars are dancing. There is a brief lurch of eternity, and it seems for a moment like they will spin forever. Then there is a shrieking crunch as they slam into the trees on the other side of the road.
Afterward, the silence gapes like a maw. Geralt trembles as he feels it surrounding him, stalking him, until it feels like it could swallow him whole. His eyes are fixed on the entangled wrecks across the road, unable to tear them away. One headlight remains lit, dangling at an odd angle. It throws an eerie, swinging glow across the scene. He watches it sway, floating in a hazy cushion of shock.
Then, he hears the cry.
It’s a terrible, ululating sound. It rises and falls in an unsteady staccato, climbing in volume and strength until it becomes a full-chested shriek. Geralt’s blood turns to ice as he listens to the sound of a stranger in mortal agony, helpless terror freezing him to the spot-
   Burning diesel, the smell of an engine choked half to death by dust. The chatter of his men around him as the transport bumps over the rocky terrain. The acrid stink of the nearby battlefield is getting closer...  
-
Yennefer hangs up the phone again. Another hospital, another dead end. She’s running out of places to call, and it’s getting late. Rain taps the window over the dead air conditioner, curtains hanging limp and dead. The hiss and bubble of the coffee maker is weirdly loud, threatening to break her focus. Undeterred, she turns on the bed and spreads her hands across the map of the state, taking some small solace in the feeling of the paper crinkling under her hands. Then she settles in to stare at it, willing the paper to yield some secret that it has not yet divulged. The tangle of streets and neighborhoods stare back, stubbornly unyielding. When her cell phone buzzes next to the map it’s almost a relief, despite knowing who’s on the other end.
“Hello?”
“What now, Julian?”
“For the last time, I told you my name is J-”
“Any sign of him?” she cuts in briskly, taking some small solace in how soggy and irritated he sounds.
“Well, thank you so much for your interest,” he replies sarcastically, slightly out of breath. “No, I can’t find hide nor hair of him in this howling wilderness. Did you know they have the brass fucking balls to call this hellscape a park? I swear the fucking raccoons out here are the size of pickup trucks!” In between his complaining his car door thuds shut and the sound of the wind abruptly cuts off. There is a clatter, which she imagines is his flashlight being tossed aside and bouncing down onto the floor. “And of all the mother-loving fuck-forsaken things I could have forgotten, it was a towel for me. I might as well be Swamp Creature! I’m never going to get this seat dry!”
“Suck it up, buttercup,” she snaps, rolling her eyes. She’s been on the phone with indifferent hospital staff and recalcitrant morgue technicians for hours, and these charming conversations have been interspersed with long-winded bouts of Julian's damp and ill-tempered wittering. She’s been putting up with it, but she’s nearing the end of her rope. He scoffs, and she can hear in his voice that he’s about to go off again. Her annoyance surges. “Listen up, Skippy, I didn’t pick up the phone to hear a sob story. You're out there to help, so shut the fuck up and help.” She pauses to look at her map again. “Do you think he went up towards the reservoir?”
He puffs indignantly, but her pointed reminder deflates him. "Ah-" he pauses, embarrassed and trying to re-set himself mid-whine. "Well, ah, I don’t think so. There’s a tennis court up that way, and then a great big-”
“I don't need the details, just tell me the next most likely direction to look in," she interrupts, scowling at a fork in the tangle of roads.
“There are a few back roads up near-”
“Northeast or Northwest,” she snaps, aware that she’s being rude and well past the point of caring.
“Northeast,” he fires back, his own fraying temper sparking off. “Now listen here-”
“No you listen,” she says. “There’s a limited amount of shit that I’m going to take from a man who can’t remember to bring his own fucking towel out into a rainstorm-”
“If you hadn’t been such an insufferable witch when I was getting ready, maybe I wouldn’t have run into one without thinking!”  
“Oh, so now I’m the one to blame for you not keeping your head screwed on?” she replies, a dangerous note of pleasure entering her voice. “No one told me I was signing up to be your mother, you nancy little prick, and if you think that’s where this is headed then you’re about to be sorely disappointed.”
“Ho! Oh!” he gasps, taken aback, “So that’s how it is, is it? Puh-lease, you she-devil, don’t think for a minute I’d take you as my mother-”
   -CRACKle-crack-crackle-  
Their bickering is interrupted by the police scanner coming to life. There is a spitting and hissing, then a half-comprehensible male voice rattles out numbers over the staticky line, followed by something that makes Yennefer’s heart leap into her throat.
“There’s also a possible 10-45 Bravo, large adult white male with white hair, sending EMT to assess…”
Julian gasps in her ear as she jots down notes at lightning speed. When the radio yields a location at last, she feels a fierce rush of relief. They have a lead at last.
“Was that what I just thought it was?” he asks, and in the background is the sound of his engine starting.
“I think so,” she replies, animosity momentarily forgotten in her rush to re-examine the map. “Do you know where Burned Swamp Road is?”
“Oh holy hell, he’s all the way out there? Yes, yes, it’s out near a country club my cousin used to go to. I know exactly where that is, I’m on my way.”
“Get the lead out, he’s not going to be there for long.”
“I drive like a bat out of hell, darling.”
-
After the explosion, the world was still. He lay pinned to the dusty earth, something jagged cutting into the meat of his back and an unimaginable weight pressing down on him. With every breath there was pain. Over the liquid, bubbling screaming from one of his men, he could hear the rest of his unit advance. There was the sound of engines in the distance, the feeling of tires grinding over rubble vibrating his aching bones. The pop-pop-pop of gunfire drifted above the ringing in his ears as he choked on smoke.
His fingers go cold, his lips, his face. When the flickering lights of emergency vehicles come into view he stares at them like he is made of stone, vision partially obscured by the pine needles under his dirty cheek. The only part of himself that he can feel moving is his heaving chest.
From out of the blurred field of moving lights emerges a figure. They’re wearing a uniform he can’t place for the life of him, and a flashlight bobs in their hands. Geralt squints instinctively against light as it pans over him, making his aching head ring like a bell. The figure leans over. Their face is a smeared jumble; all the features are there but they just don’t make sense. Their mouth is moving... perhaps they’ve even said something, but Geralt can’t process it. Their mouth continues to move and they hold up their hands in a peaceable gesture before kneeling down to inspect him. Geralt groans, too frightened to understand what’s happening and too frozen to do anything about it.
Then the wind shifts towards him for the first time since the wreck, and with it comes the unmistakable scent of blood, a coppery reek that not even the burning chemicals can obscure. Something about the smell galvanizes Geralt as if he’s been struck by lightning. He jerks away as the figure reaches towards him, scrambling away from the blood, away from the wreck, away from the suddenly shouting stranger struggling to their feet to chase him.
Despite the stiffness some distant part of his mind realizes is pain, Geralt gets his feet under him and sprints off into the night. He ducks and weaves between the trees, fleet-footed in his panic, breath heaving in his lungs until all he can taste is bile and heat. It’s only a matter of minutes before the shouting ceases, the flashlights fading into the night. His legs churn, oblivious to the foliage he crashes through. Now that he’s started running again he finds he can’t stop, his raging adrenaline demanding everything he has to give. He goes until his stomach hurts and his breath is ragged. Until he is staggering, and finally, until his legs can carry him no more.
-
Despite Jaskier’s lead foot and casual disregard for local laws he still has to get halfway across the tiny state. The weather eases as he drives, clouds scudding away before the wind. By the time he arrives, the rain has stopped completely and rich moonlight radiates through gaps in the clouds. A lone cop car sits near the wreck, headlights flooding the road. The single headlight has long since been extinguished.
When Jaskier gets out of the car it strikes him how eerie the quiet is. All he can hear is the crunch of the police officer’s shoes on the gravel as he paces the scene finishing his notes.
He gives Jaskier a flat look of exhausted disinterest when he approaches, barely even bothering to raise his head. “Can I help you, sir?”
“Ah, I’m looking for my friend, he was out having a run and got caught in the storm. Perhaps one of you gentlemen might have seen him? About yea tall,” he holds his hand slightly above his head, “short white hair? He’s hard to miss.”
The cop grunts. “Big guy? Weird uh, weird eyes?” He waved towards his face descriptively.
The corner of his mouth pulls down, and Jaskier feels his hackles rise at the disgust in the cop's expression. Despite that, he's filled with a surge of relief and excitement. “That’s him!”
The officer shrugs and gestures over his shoulder at the shadowy forest across the road. “He was down when we got here, but uh… Took off like a shot when the EMT went to check him out. He went that way. We figured uh, he can run, he can take care of himself. Good luck, pal.” And with that he turns away, clicking his pen pointedly and looking back down at his clipboard.
Jaskier fumes at the casual dismissal. His chest swells as a hundred imprecations jump to the tip of his tongue, but that's not what he's here for. With unusual restraint he swallows his anger, pressing his lips together and turning. He walks stiff-legged back to the car, slamming the door behind him.  
It takes a while for him to stop seeing red, and a moment longer before he knows he won’t unload on Yennefer the second she answers the phone. He scrubs his hand across his face and takes a deep breath, then dials her number. “Yennefer?”
“Is there any sign of him?” she snaps, impatience lending an edge to her tone.
He grimaces, shaking his head. “He's not here,” he says, "But I think he can't be far." He relays the conversation with the cop to her. When he finishes, she spits a hearty curse. He sighs, palming his face. “I’m sorry, I should have pressed him for more. I should have told him off! Something.”
“No. You shut the fuck up exactly when you should have,” she says drily, a touch calmer now. “I didn’t think you had it in you. Listen, how is your cell battery?”
He holds the phone away and pulls a face at it before putting it back to his ear. “I’ve got about half left. Why?”
“Because this time I want you to stay on the phone with me while you look for him.”
“Fuck,” he swears under his breath, but he leans over and starts hunting around for the flashlight that’s rolled under the passenger seat nevertheless.
“What was that?” she asks sharply.
He winces. “Nothing, ah, just-” he leans further over, straining for the flashlight at the edge of his fingertips. “Bloody buggering fuck. Ha!” He straightens, flashlight in hand. “Sorry, I ah, I lost the flashlight under the seat. I’ve got it now. Shall we?” And with that he gets out of the car, praying that she’ll buy it, or at least let it go by.
She huffs, unimpressed. “Make up another lame excuse for swearing at me and I’ll make you eat your shoelaces next time I see you, got it?”
“Right you are,” he replies with false bravado, scanning the clearing. “I’ll make sure to keep some marinara handy, darling.” She scoffs, and he shakes his head. He knows he shouldn’t be squabbling with her, he knows better, but it’s hard when there are a hundred fears crowding the back of his mind. He clicks on the flashlight, stepping away from the car.
The night is balmy despite the breeze. The clearing is deserted. All that’s left is the wreck across the way. Small plastic ties flutter from each antenna, and when the breeze washes across the road it carries a strong chemical stink. He shudders and turns away, pointing himself in the direction of the woods.
“All right, I’m heading up in the direction indicated by that rotten squirrel fart in a uniform. I don’t see much, yet.”
“Just try. What kind of trees are there? What kind of dirt? I need to be able to visualize where you are.”
“Evergreen trees with long needles,” he notes hesitantly. He pauses and squints at the ground near his feet, scuffing around to see better, “and it’s sandy.”
“Is it still raining out near you?”
“No, and about fucking time,” he says, inching forward and playing his light back and forth across the ground.
“Good.”  
“And you?” he asks.
“It’s almost stopped here.”
“Wait,” he says. His voice tenses. “I see something. Boot prints and a big scuff in the soil.”
“Thank fuck you found something,” she says. “What else? Is there blood?”
He can hear fear in her voice, and it sets his heart to racing. He leans down, inspecting the dirt more closely. “Not that I can see. There’s some deep prints gouged out of the moss uphill, though, and and they cross through the uh.. Scuff thingy.”
“What else? Keep talking.”
Jaskier darts his tongue across his lips, gathering his thoughts, then begins tentatively to describe the scene in front of him. He can hear the scratch of her pen as he talks. She hammers him with question after pointed question, and he stumblingly answers them.
Finally, she stops him. “Enough. Which direction do those deep prints go? Can you follow them?”
“The uh… Yes, they- Yes. I can follow them. They’re going uphill here.” He inches tentatively deeper into the forest, which is far denser than the park with the raccoons. The trail is easy to follow at first, footprints leading deeper and deeper into the forest. He picks his way through the undergrowth in moon-scraped darkness, surrounded in the wet green fragrance of summer leaves. “There had better not be any poison ivy back here,” he complains, overcome with an urge to fill the lonely darkness with something human, if not friendly.
She lets out an unladylike snort. “Cope. Now tell me what you’re seeing.”
Together they navigate deeper into the murk of the woods, following the signs that Geralt has left behind. Jaskier directs a steady stream of information and sotto voce grizzling at Yennefer, who can’t help picking on him in return. Nevertheless, between them, they make a good team. Even as the trail gets more subtle, Yennefer’s field experience pairs well with his quick eye for detail. They progress slowly, following his erratic tracks over rocky outcrops and through gulleys, hoping against hope to find him in one piece.
Then Jaskier sees something that makes him pause. His stomach sinks and he inches forward, getting quiet.
“I found something,” he says. “There's exposed soil on the edge of the bank up ahead. It looks like he might have climbed up.” His flashlight catches something reflective in the darkness. He pans back over it and recognizes a muddy sneaker caught in a nearby tree root. “Yennefer-” he says, his voice sharp.
"What?"
"It's his shoe. It's stuck in some roots here. It's filthy, bloody hell, I didn't even recognize it at first-"
Yennefer’s breath catches in her throat. She pauses to gather her composure, then says, “He can’t be far, then. Go slow and be quiet. Stop as soon as you see him and don’t make any noise, don’t startle him. Got it?”
He gulps around the hard lump in his throat, gathering himself, then nods. “Got it.” Skin prickling with apprehension he resumes creeping forward, slowly panning his light back and forth. The evergreens have faded into deciduous forest. The maples and oaks that surround him shiver in the moonlight. The leaf litter is sallow and wet, sickly leaves that have been knocked down by the storm. The trail is muddled, as if Geralt had been staggering. The footprints terminate in the shadow under a huge oak tree hunched in a rocky hollow.
He cautiously rounds the tree, and there he stops, his heart leaping into his throat.
Caught in the round light of his flashlight beam is a muddy foot with a ragged, torn sock hanging off of it. The foot is disturbingly still. Panning the beam, he sees Geralt’s bare leg, scratched bloody and spattered with mud and bits of soggy leaves. He lays on the ground unconscious, his limbs in an ungainly sprawl. Biting back a noise of sorrow and fear, Jaskier beats a hasty retreat back to the lost sneaker near the gully.
“I found him. I think you’d better get here immediately.”
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kellyjarofbees · 5 months
Text
I culd be your werewolf if you want me to
Fluff/ Modern AU / werewolf Geralt/ no beta
TW animal death
Titel is taken from " A werewolf " by Attic Abasement
.....
This was not how Jeaskir expected to spend his Halloween. Under normal circumstances he'd be getting drunk at Essie's party in the most ridiculous sexy costume he can think of. But when you're witcher boyfriend gets bit by a warwolfe on the job and Halloween lands on a full moon , well alittl sacrifice must be made. So now jeaskir was spending his favorite holiday here at Vesimers old cabin in the middle of fuck all nowhere comforting Geralt through his transformation.
   He sat out on the floor of the outside deck in Geralts old juper. Thay figured out last mounth that it calmed Geralts nerves when jeaskir smelled like him. A glass of wine in one hand as his uther gently  rubining Geralts massive wolf head that lay in his lap. It's an easy way for jeaskir to take care of Geralt but he wishes he culd do more. He knows Geralt is in pain when he shifts and not even yens magic culd help. Almost like she knew he was thinking of her yennefer comes out of the cabin a bottle of wight wine in one hand and a glass in the uther she wore a comfortable looking wight netted sweater with black leggings with her usual necklace.
" need a refill?" She asked as she sat down next to jeaskir. " yes please " he responded smiling.
"What are you doing here? I thought you had ciri this weekend. " Jaeskir asked as yenafer refilled his glass then poured one for her self.
" she ended up sleeping over at a friend's house so I portaled here decided to make myself useful just incase things got out of control." she glances down at the sleeping werewolf in jeaskirs lape "how is he?"
Jaskir gives her a sad smile then turns his attention to Geralt " you alright dear?" He ask but all he got in response was a dog-ish whine. " ok then" jeaskir said peting the spot behind Geralts ere "just rest here as long as you need."
  
" I see " yenafer said not knowing what she was expecting. "And how are you handling up with all of this." She gestured vaguely at Geralt.
   " It culd be worse I suppose." He takes a sip of his wine. " he doesn't really get out of control,  well aside from that first time but in his defense we were rather ill prepared." Yenafer giggles " God's what a mess that was." Jeaskir lagahed too " but annyway he really just wants to be coddled so it's not all bad."
" well that's good I'm shore Esekl and lambert are relived thay don't have to go tracking him through the woods every mounth" yenafer said pointed to the window to the cabin behind her. Jeaskir looked inside to see lambert woching TV and Esekl putting some frozen pizza in the oven.  His attention was brought back to Geralt when herd anuther whain and felt a wet noise sniffing his check  " Awww what's the matter love , don't like my attention on anyone else." He grad Geralts face with both hands and kissed his forhad.
    With that Geralts big clawed hand pulled jeaskir to lay down on his side causing jeaskir to drop the wine glass and held him as close as possible. Yenafer flinched at the quick movement but relaxed when she herd jeaskir laugh and saw him bury his face in Geralts furry chest. He gently rubed Geralts back in a suthing motion enjoying the feeling of his soft furr under his hand.
" Witch? wuld mind bringing my glass inside for me."Jeaskir asked yenafer rolled her eyes but took the thankfully unbroken glass inside.
   Jeaskir rested his head in Geralts furr " I think I culd get used to this." Jeaskir admits out loud knowing Geralt probably can't understand him " then again I'd take care of you for forever if you'd have me." Thay layed there for awhile simply enjoying the warmth of echuther on this cold windy night. Hes not sure how much time has passed but then his sumich started growling wich caused Geralt to stand at attention hunched on all fours.
" It's alright Geralt I'm just alittl hungry " Jaeskir said as he sat up. Geralt sniffed the air and stood to full hight on two legs and stared out into the pich black woods. Locking eyes with something he lunched himself over the deck raling into the darkness of the woods.
" SHIT! GUYS HE RAN OFF! " Jeaskir shouted as he ran inside.
Esekl and lambert ran off to track Geralt and make sure he stays Safe. Jaeskir sat at the couch wouching the TV bumping his leg nervously. " you have to relax." Yenafer said as she sat next to him placed a plate with a slice of pizza on the table infrunt of him. " eat you'll feel better" She insisted.
" How are you so sure Geralt will be fine?"
" because he's stubborn. "
yenafer answered honestly " and I trust Esekl and lambert ther good at what thay do and thay wont let anything happen to him."
He smiled at her and she playfully bumped his shoulder now come on pick out a movie for us."
"Adam's Family? "
"Sounds good"
Thay sat ther for a long while woching movie's.
jeaskir got up to back cookies with the premade bough yen brought. He was just bringing the cookies out of the oven when he herd a loud thump out on the porch. Then a howel "oh fuck !" jeaskir exlaimd as he and yenafer went to open the door. Geralt stopped howling when he saw them. He just sat there staring at jeaskir waging his tail witch wuld have melted jeaskir's hart if it weren't for the dead deer laying his feet. He used his elongated snout to push it closer to jeaskir.
" EWWW! Yen what is he doing!?"
" why are you asking me!"
" you're the one that can read minds can't you just I don't know see what he's thinking!?"
" I've never done it with a werewolf before!" She takes a moment and thinks " it's worth a try I guess."
Yenafer staired into Geralts eye's for a quiet moment then the silence was broken by yenafer bursting out lagahing.
"what! what is it !?" Jaskir questioned.
" he said he wants to ceep his mate well fead, he's quite proud of himself to." Yenafer went inside still laughing.
"Ho" Jaeskir just stood there looking at Geralt dumb founded " th thank you " he said awkwardly. Geralt tilted his head curiously
" I'm not really hungry umm you can have it if you want." With that Geralt being devouring his prise. Jeaskir culd see lambert and Esekl coming out of the tree line he figured thay culd handel this so he whent inside. Now knowing Geralt is safe he went to bed.
Geralt woke up alone in his bed under a waited blanket. Surprisingly he was not in as much pain as the previous times he'd shift. He wrapped the hevey blanket around his sholders and sat up to find a glass of water with a pill next to it on the night stand there was alittl note left by jeaskir that read
" I left some pain killer out for you were making breakfast down stairs come join us when you're ready <3"
He decided to show and brush his teeth to get rid of the iron tast still lingering in his mouth from the night before. He put up his hair in a messy bun and put on some soft clothes.
As he went into the kitchen he was greeted with the sight of Esekl making pancakes , lambert and Ciri were playing cards at the table and jeaskir and yenafer arguing over jeaskir playing Christmas music.
" SEREUSLY! Halloween was YESTERDAY!"
" EXACTLY IT WAS YESTERDAY I see no issues here, oh hay Geralt "
Jeaskir smiled huged him. Geralt held him for a moment then stepped away to look at jeaskir's face. "God's he's so butifull " Geralt thinks but does not say. Instead he only says " hay" with a sweet smile "can we talk out side for a second?"
" of course "
Thay go out side on the deck. It is a bright sunny but and crisp autumn morning. Geralt takes a moment to bask in the warm sun.
" how are you feeling? " Jeaskir asked
" my muscles are sore but it's not to bad " he took a deep breathe to calm his nerves"just ask him you can do this" Geralt took one last deep breath and spock
" I actually remember most of last night."
" oh darling that's wonderful progress!" Jeaskir said excitedly.
" it is and umm ... I herd what you said you know." 
" what I said? "
" you said you'd take care of me forever if I'd have you. And even though I culdent tell you in that moment ... I wanted you to know I wuld love forever with you. "
There were tiers in jeaskirs eyes as he stood there shocked " Geralt are you asking what I think your asking because if you are I really need to here you say it. " his voice cracked as he cried ters of joy.
Geralt got down on one nee and took jeaskir's hands " im sorry I don't have a ring."
" it's ok" jeaskir laughed
" will you marry me?"
" YES!!" Jeaskir launched himself at Geralt and kissed him hard causing Geralt to fall backwards and lay on his back. As jeaskir kissed his boyfriend, no his fiance he culd only think one thing. This was the perfect Halloween.
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