psychobassoon



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    “Come, put that hulking body of yours to good use and warm me up,” Jaskier had said and Geralt, tired of denying the bards ever bolder and more persistent come-ons, had trudged over and done just that.

    He’d not expected to be allowed a kiss or ten, had not dared hope to be touched so tenderly in return for his service. Now they are lying here, warm and sticky with the sounds of nature slowly fading back into their awareness, and Jaskier has still not asked him to leave.

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    11 Sep 2021

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    Geralt returns to Oxenfurt on a bright May morning to find flowers laid outside Jaskier's rooms and a fresh grave in the cemetery.

    Except, as Geralt is about to learn, in Jaskier's world things are never quite what they seem.

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    11 Sep 2021

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    “Geralt, it’s not what it looks like.”

    “Really?” he asked. He clenched his jaw before offering a sharp, mirthless smile. “Because it looks like you got caught fucking the mayor’s wife, and now I’m not getting paid!”

    “Well,” he laughed nervously, looking anywhere but up. “When you put it that way.”

     

    In which Jaskier suggests a chastity device to prove himself a worthy travel companion, and of course, gives Geralt the key.

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    06 Sep 2021

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    “Why are you doing this,” Geralt asks- he is tired. He has not had the time to mourn Jaskier with him right there at his side. “Jaskier. Why are you here?” 

    “Where else would I go?” Jaskier says- bloody teeth. 

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    06 Sep 2021

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    Outside the wind was howling, ice biting, but the wolves were warm in their den. Jaskier smiled to himself, dozing with his fingers still on the strings, and thought that he must be the luckiest human alive to be here, to be wrapped up and safe in this beautiful pack of Witchers.

    He was warm. Protected.

    He was home.

    ----

    Jaskier's second winter at Kaer Mohren.

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    03 Sep 2021