.undauntic

Hello! Welcome to my lil multimuse blog. My name is Dixon and I live in the PNW, have an obsession with coffee and my dogs and love anything horror related. Marvel muses are based in the MCU (unless noted) with my own headcanons and divergences mixed in. I’ll be off and on here, so activity will be sporadic but feel free to look around and reach out to me. Just a heads up! There are some helpful links on the way.

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general. RULES (please read before interacting)  MEME TAG

current muses. PRIMARY: Jax Teller (SOA), Gemma Teller Morrow (SOA), Tyler Rake (Extraction), Leon S. Kennedy (Resident Evil-Games and WTRC) SECONDARY:  Jaskier (The Witcher-Series), Agent Smith (The Matrix) TERTIARY:  Bruce Banner (MCU), Ben Parker (AU/Divergent/MCU),  PRIVATE AND TEST: Daryl Dixon (TWD), Tony Stark (Avengers Game), Dexter Morgan (Dexter), Stanley Uris (It), Siddiq (TWD), Bruce Banner (Avengers Game)

other blogs. come say hi! LOYALTYWORN (bucky barnes, main blog) SHIELDBOUND (steve rogers, medium activity) REACTORIC (tony stark, low activity) NOMADICAL (paul rovia, medium activity)

     “ maybe all that’s left is what the djinn has done . ” his voice is low , and he barely restrains a soft hum . he keeps it silent , watching the other for a moment , feeling his heart twist in the crevices of his chest , twining and yearning . but he understands . he knows the bard is angry , he’s allowed to be . Geralt cannot fault Jaskier for it .

     his features soften , and his shoulders seem to drop , his lips thinning a little . “ emotional battles are not ones that I’m equipped to participate in . ” and he doesn’t like them . he never has . they only serve to hurt most of the time , and he’s long hated being hurt , even if in this case he’s done it to himself . he wouldn’t fault Jaskier for hating his guts entirely either , for what he had done . after all , he’d come marching in as if he were some sort of savior .

     he’s nothing but a witcher . a bastard of a man . nothing more than a monster created to hunt monsters . pure irony .

     fuck . 

     golden eyes flicker upward , too many words to express , not enough eloquence to say them . Geralt has never been well versed , not one to much use words . he talks here and there , but his words are generally to the point , driving it home like a sword thrust . in this case , he isn’t sure what to say , and he stares at the bard and the confession that he makes , ringing in his ears . part of him doesn’t understand , but how can he .

     “ hrm . ” a simple grunt , that means far too much . too many words he cannot get out as he looks at the bard . years of traveling together means the bard is well versed in what each one would mean , and he can only hope that this time Jaskier knows as well . that he can pick up on it . that he can hear the ‘ I love you too . let me make this up . let me fix this , step by step . little by little , let us be what we were . together . ’

Measuring him with one up and down glance, Jaskier’s brows shove together and he gives the man one more stern look before stepping back and swinging his hands out from his sides. In one gesture, he seems to signal that he’s open to something that the single grunt’s hinted at. That he isn’t turning his back. Nor walking away. Nor telling him to fuck off. Which would be rightfully earned reactions, mind you, should he choose them.

However..

He stays firmly put and motions towards Geralt with a forward swing of his hand. “That’s better. I would rather take that noise than an argument towards you regretting the last hour that’s gone by. Now,” he sighs--a headshake later and he’s stepping forward to swing his arms around Geralt’s shoulders in order to pull him into an embrace that’s been a long time coming. Just as long as his initial reaction of anger and spite? He’s longed to do this..

One tuck of his face into the curve of the witcher’s neck and he inhales him deeply before stepping back and clasping broad shoulders with delicate grips of both hands. “One chance. Don’t blow it. I don’t know if my heart could survive,” a small and careful smile--he wants to believe that this still stick but he has to be careful. There’s a scar that’s barely healed. It’d be far too easy to rip it open.

Corners of lips began to pull upwards at SWEET words — Siddiq is such a gentle soul and there’s not many like him left in the world. RARE to find and at risk of easily being snuffed out — but he’s still here. No one in this world has made it this far without both seeing and doing unspeakable things, but Siddiq is still good. It doesn’t seem to have tainted or tarnished him. There was something about that Rosita liked, something she ADMIRED. She wasn’t the same. She had let the world get to her, though she knew it hadn’t beaten her. That was one thing she was certain of, she knew that she was capable, knew that she could handle herself.

“ Yeah? ” Head tilted with her question. Perhaps she was admittedly indulging herself. But whatever this was — she liked it. She appreciated how kind he was, how GENTLE. Rosita was more used to the rougher side of things, Siddiq was a welcome change. “ Why don’t you tell me more? ”

To say that he loves her? That plays out clearly in his eyes, in the tone of his voice. How he regards her with nothing short of affection and adoration each time he peers into her eyes. One glance at him when her back’s turned and that same adoration is tripled when she isn’t looking. She’s his world and he’s content with that. What started out as two friends blowing off steam grew into something deep. They’re there for each other. They care for each other. There’s nothing in this world he wouldn’t do to keep her safe. To make sure she knows she’s cared for and loved. And he knows she’d do the same for him. Nothing would be the same without her in his life. So, when he lets go a little bubble of his thoughts--about when he knew she was someone he wanted to let in? Closer than he’s let anyone in years? He simply let the words go rather than hold them back..

     he almost wants to laugh .

     not in a ha ha that’s funny way but in a ha ha why this way . the sort of laugh that’s derived from chipped broken pieces and an ache that’s been saddled in his heart for six months . the sort of laugh that came from disbelief in its entirety .

     Geralt didn’t see the amusement , he saw a disdain for himself and a disbelief of what he had done . how dare he do such a rotten thing , rip away a choice in the matter in desperation . even if at the time it hadn’t been desperation . 

     his head shakes slightly , and he closes his eyes , drawing in a slow breath before letting it out again . emotions are a territory he’s never gotten good at exploring , even now . he flounders with them , and all he can do is clench his hands into fists at his side , before finally looking at Jaskier . “ what bond is left ? not the one that I shattered on the mountain ? ” he asks , his voice low , soft . the bard had admitted it himself , that it had been thrown away that day .

     he knows what he had done . how can he say otherwise ? he had entirely wrecked what they had had , there was no way around that fact .

     but Jaskier did say was , not is . perhaps there really is no bond left , other than what the djinn had in place .

     “ you said it yourself . I don’t get to come back and expect you to forget everything . it isn’t what I was expecting anyway . ” no . he had expected … well , he isn’t sure . perhaps a new start to everything . “ but I suppose I should have expected your anger , and that you want nothing to do with me . I’m .. sorry . I shouldn’t have come back . ” it aches to say it , wounds him deep , and the expression crosses his features for a moment .

     for a brief moment , the witcher’s stoic facade crumbles slightly , becomes vulnerable . a crack in an emotionless mask .

“I don’t know what is left. Perhaps what’s keeping me here and what brought you to me. That’s something. Isn’t it? Something that says you and I--we were never really done. Then again, if you think it’s truly gone in spite of what gets said out of anger--which is rightfully allowed at this point, mind you?” 

He is right. He’s allowed to be at least a little angry and lash out. He’s earned that out of heartbreak. Out of waiting. Out of climbing down that damn mountain on his own! Thankyouverymuch! “Perhaps you’ve picked up a habit of giving in easily in the last six months.. I don’t like it. Doesn’t suit you.” 

His arms cross over his chest and he wishes he had something to sit on. There’s a level of exhaustion creeping into his bones now that he’s out of that hellhole of a cell and away from his captors. One made out of sleeplessness and an anxiety he would be hard-pressed to admit how deep it ran. 

Now both were gone. And he feels safe enough to be tired. And yet he keeps his mouth shut about it--because he doesn’t want this encounter to end. If he gets to the deepest parts about why he lingers and forces his legs to keep standing.

“But if you are looking for me to ignore what I’m feeling in the process of making your regret now that you’ve seen me and we’ve barely begun to touch on what happened and what it did before we fix this feel less painful to you? Then..that’s not how it works. Things get said out of hurt. It happens. It doesn’t mean I don’t love you. I do. Desperately so. Always..” His tone drops and he sighs deeply, attempting to drive his point home because if this doesn’t stick then he has no idea what to do.

     perhaps this is what he absolutely deserves . to be tied to someone that loathes him with all their being as a direct consequence of his actions . he doesn’t deny that he hurt the other , doesn’t try to mask it . he only finds a bitter amusement in the fact that this is what happens , what he gets , for attempting to protect someone in the worst possible way .

     hurting someone is better than being the cause of their death , or seeing them die in front of him .

     “ better than me being the cause of your death in some way . ” because it seems death merely follows him where he goes . it may not touch him , but it does far too much to everyone else . 

     the witcher tenses at the touch , shoulders partially rising up again when the fingers curl around his bicep , and he looks down at the grip the bard has on him . why continue with this ? why does he want to keep tormenting himself ? but he doesn’t answer Jaskier , not at first . instead , he only bares his teeth just slightly , revealing the sharp teeth like his moniker . wolf they whispered , hair white as snow , eyes molten as gold coin . white wolf . 

     “ the final wish was to bind our destinies together , whatever it would mean in the end . ” only if now he could find another djinn perhaps , and undo what he had done in the first place . he can see how incredulous Jaskier thinks it all is , and perhaps he’s only thinking the worst of him at the moment. how dare he bind them together , how dare he do such a thing only to turn around and attempt to force the other away . it didn’t matter if he would come back to him time and time again .

     “ I’ll find another djinn , and undo what’s been done . you won’t have to worry about me being tied to you anymore . ” because it wasn’t Jaskier tied to him , oh no . it was Geralt that suffers from what the djinn had done . Geralt that’s tied to the bard , unable to help but continually come back .

     another glance is given to the hand on his arm , and he moves his shoulder in an attempt to get Jaskier to release him . “ you can hate me all you want . ”

The amusement that danced in his eyes, briefly as it was, fades the moment he sees what can only be described as disdain for his touch register on the witcher’s face. An expression that, in spite of spat words and raised voices--months apart and broken promises, he never thought he’d see cast towards him again once Geralt’s back was facing him and he was retreating towards parts unknown leaving him broken in his wake.

Regret floods in and it doesn’t take much movement to make Jaskier retract his hand and promptly curl his other fingers around his palm as if he’s chasing off some sort of ache the contact left behind. The mirth is gone and the distance he closed is regained with two backwards steps. He wishes for silence then. For his question he posed to simply disappear. 

That look hurt worse than he was ready for. Having sworn off under many drinks, many songs and many months of being alone that he would never let himself feel that ache again.

“I was going to say that only you would waste a wish on something that was already there,” he quietly replies and the tone is nothing greater or less than sadness to his bones. “I’ve been tied to you since the start. No magical bond needed. Just you..” Even now. So says the tired, exhausted smile that follows. 

Jaskier’s gaze lifts towards the end of it but then it falls towards his hands again and he lets his palm go, fingers swinging out as he shrugs unable to do or say anything correctly, it seems. It’s only a matter of time before Geralt is gone again now that he’s done his duty and saved him. Right? He never said he would stay and by the reaction his touch alone received? It won’t be for long. 

     the bard has a point , a rather sharp one . he never should have broken that trust and left him on the mountain , and yet … yet he had . there is no defense that he can come up with that makes any sort of sense , other than that it’s dangerous and he would only end up with Jaskier being killed . Geralt would never live with himself if he would end up being the cause of his heart’s death .

     at long last , he is the one that breaks eye contact , looking away from Jaskier and feeling his shoulders rise up in a subtly defensive position . he has no right to try to shield himself , yet he is . “ I heard you were in trouble , so I came to find you . ” he grunts it softly , and his fingers curl more , the gloves feeling all too tight on calloused hands .

     hands he longs to use to touch the bard , though he has no right . he has no right whatsoever to his emotions right now . he has earned nothing to yearn like he is .

     instead , he swallows , lowering his shoulders as he relaxes himself and exhales slowly , trying to get himself to ease up . it’s incredibly difficult ; he doesn’t remember it ever being this hard to reign in emotions of any sort . 

     “ because I’ve always cared , no matter what I screamed on the mountain or told you . breaking your heart , I broke my own in the process . I didn’t want to be responsible for you being hurt , or killed . in the end , I chose to hurt you anyway to keep you away . ” his lips tighten into a thin line , and he runs a hand through his hair as he turns away from Jaskier instead , unable to continue looking at him , or even in his direction . “ and in the end , I still can’t stay away . ” his brows furrow and he laughs , a low and sarcastic sound that flashes sharp teeth that haven’t been filed in months with his spiral of his broken heart .

     “ the djinn did its magic well . ”

Geralt came to find him. Because he was in trouble. Jaskier falls quiet the edge of one front tooth grabs onto a tiny sliver of inside his bottom lip. That’s not fair. That he would come for him and show he still worries, still cares when it’s obvious such actions are made from someone who does both. After taking every word he could to try and convince him otherwise before leaving him high and dry (literally) to rot. 

“Oh...” He breathes the word and hates that’s all he can come up with.

Careful eyes watch as Geralt’s shoulders lower themselves, he sees him force the tension out of them and it seems to jump over to him instead. His jaw twitches, back teeth grind together with the tensing of his muscles but he listens to the sound of Geralt’s voice and forces himself to ease the tension away as well. There’s no use for it. No need. It’s only uncomfortable in his shoulders and down his back. 

“Did it ever occur to you that I could be any one of those things without you around as well? Because if you didn’t notice? I was doing quite fine getting into trouble on my own back there,” his hand swings out from his side in the direction of the town then falls when Geralt turns his back to him. Oh no no! That’s not happening! 

“Don’t you turn your back to me,” he’s a few steps around Geralt’s side when he hears the secret breathed out and bewilderment brings his steps to a sudden stop. Confused, he turns a questioning gaze up to the other and shakes his head sharply. “Excuse me--did you say--,” he knows precisely what he said. And precisely what it means. As if he could ever forget...

Both brows shoot up and he gently rests his hand on Geralt’s bicep. “You didn’t...,” and just like that--all his anger seems to snap into--AMUSEMENT. Bright eyed, baffled to hell--amusement. The bard puffs a laughter of disbelief and he rocks back, rolling his eyes to the sky as he chuckles and tosses Geralt a glance that says it all. He clears his throat and forces himself to calm down slightly.

     the fact he had practically beat his way through most of the guards to get to the bard says volumes , though he knows it likely will not be enough . he had destroyed what they had had . as easily as Yennefer casting some spell and sending the pieces flying . 

     so when it comes to actually talking about this , he fails . he always fails . Geralt feels some sense of him clam up when the near glare is leveled at him , taking in slow breath as he processes what was said . that Jaskier had waited on the mountain for him to return , though Geralt had not gone back . he couldn’t . he couldn’t risk the bard being hurt , and yet .

     and yet he himself had hurt him instead .

     he only draws in breaths as he’s verbally lashed ; he’s had worse through most of his life , though something about it coming from Jaskier means it hurts that much more . he keeps a gaze on him though , focusing on the bard as best he can as he tries to keep himself steady , and at the end of the small tirade , he turns his head away ,fingers curling and gloves creaking in protest as he does .

     “ I wasn’t asking you to forget what it felt like . I know what I did . ” his voice is even soft , rather than a coarse shout . it’s unnatural for Geralt to be so … aware of his voice , but here he is , making sure he isn’t getting loud , while he carefully stuffs supposed pieces of himself deep down , refusing to let them out . this isn’t about him .

     “ I didn’t want you hurt , but you ended up hurt anyway . ” emotionally , and now physically as well . Geralt himself had suffered his emotional heartbreak , but he bites back on it , refusing to let any of it show . “ you’re free from the cell now though . to go where you want or whathaveyou . ” so long as he doesn’t get tied up in trouble again , he can walk away if he wants . the witcher wouldn’t fault him in the slightest .

Jaskier feels that stare on him through the whole thing. Geralt never once looks away. Never once stops him. Never once breaks eye contact to look at his boots or the ground or roll his eyes or tell him to shut up. It’s outright annoying. Flabbergasted that he’s allowed to keep going, he comes to his end with a wobbly lip and doesn’t know what to do other than to stare right back up at him trying to get his point across with raised brows and thinly pressed lips. There. He got his piece out. Mostly.

Understanding. He’s given understanding. Not a grunt. Not an obligatory hm before he’s swatted away like an annoying bird that should go flap it’s wings outside somewhere far away from the witcher’s presence lest he get so annoying that his neck is snapped. No. He’s gifted with understanding and, somehow, that makes his chest ache and his heart shatter and blood boil even more. It hurts. He doesn’t want understanding. 

He wants a grunt. He wants a hm. He wants the back of the witcher turned to him and his form to get smaller and smaller as he’s left there, AGAIN, watching him fade off and leave him to his own means because promises are made to be broken and all of them were in the end. His finger trembles and he brings it down, turning both hands onto one another as he cups them together and holds them close to his waist, fidgeting thumbs against one another.

“If you didn’t want me hurt, you would have never broken my trust..,” he sighs refusing to be the one who looks away and so he doesn’t. But his eyes do soften in spite of himself, unknowingly so and round as saucers. “Why did you come find me? Why did you bother? I thought I wasn’t your problem anymore?” 

It’s true. He’s on his own now. And whatever trouble he gets into, whatever fate he chooses--it’s of his own doing. Even if, in the end, it ends up with bloodstained clothes and split lips and burns and bruises--it’s because he was the one to put himself in the situation.

     the kiss speaks volumes where Geralt cannot . spills a tide of emotions as his fingers tighten into dark strands of hair , and it takes the very air from his lungs until they’re screaming and he has to gasp for it when their lips break apart . even then , he can feel how the bard’s lips move against his own with words , refusing to draw away , and his other arm tightens around a more slim waist . 

     “ I’m working on it . ” he barely chokes the words out , fingers tightening a moment . he draws in a breath , shaking just slightly with the effort of what’s happening . with emotions he can barely contain , and he presses one more kiss until his arms both wrap and he picks Jaskier up . he doesn’t think about it , he only does . he picks the bard up , carrying him out of the cell and out of the jail itself .

     they meet no resistance , because he’s already taken everyone out . the most there is is a groan here and there of a guard that’s slowly coming to with bloodied faces , but even then , the witcher carries his bard past them with a hammering heart . out the jail , down the alley . through streets . he winds through alleys until he gets them both out of the city . 

     slowly , he sets the bard down , swallowing audibly as his fingers curl into the fabric the man is wearing , and he looks at him . stares almost , as if trying to absorb the fact he has him again . six months feels like six centuries , and he has raw and aching wounds internally that have never healed . if he were capable of crying , perhaps he would be right now .

     “ I told you … our destinies would always be intertwined . ” he never told him . never told him about the wish with the djinn that he had uttered , and he breathes out shakily , mouth dry . again , he wants to kiss him , wants to touch . but he suddenly finds himself very hesitant .

     what wretch such as himself deserves to touch that which he nearly destroyed ?

     his gaze softens , and he feels a lump in his throat , an ache in his chest . “ … I’m so sorry . ”

The kiss stuns him. Unexpected in every way, gray eyes stare up at gold ones full of confusion and wonder. Frustration. There’s a building frustration that lingers in that stare. Months of hell and a kiss is supposed to be greeted with what exactly? But underneath all of that? For the time being? Is the common sense that he isn’t sure how much strength he’s got and if they are going to get the hell out of here? He needs to swallow any other emotion away until they have some distance between this hellhole and wherever they’re about to end up. 

Of course he doesn’t plan on gravity shifting as suddenly as it does. And as he’s hoisted up and carried off, he shoots the view behind him a glare spitting on the ground as they trudge through guards strewn on the ground. More than once, he grumbles that he can be sat down. His protests fall on deaf ears until they are out of the city proper and once his heels touch the soft earth. 

“Thank you.” He steadies himself with a staggering sway that has him pushing some longer hair out of his eyes defiantly as if that motion alone might fetch some dignity back from where it’d just been carried, literally, off to.

“You told me a lot of things,” his words are rushed and jammed together--a ghost of a tone from years ago all jumbled and too quick for a breath to be spoken between them, “I’m not sure which ones stayed on top of that mountain and which ones came tumbling right down along with me once I came to my senses and realized that you weren’t coming back.” A hint. He stayed. Waiting. For any sign that Geralt would come back, that they’d fix what was said. That what happened wasn’t going to stick.

Longer than he’d care to admit to anyone. Especially present company.

“Destines?! Sorry?” His stomach twists in knots with that look and his gaze softens. One beat. Another beat. Oh he catches himself and he’s slipping and it’s pop off time! His heel stomps and digs into the wet earth. OH THAT IS SO FUCKING FUCK!?! This bastard!

     “ you , blind ? ” it’s said in a sarcastic soft voice , his breath picking up against Jaskier’s ear . the bard is blind to the danger that the wolf tends to be in most of the time , the monsters that could very much tear his lark to pieces if provoked . Geralt pushes the thought away , shaking his head before his fingers curl a little , teasing against that stomach as he draws in another shaking breath .

     his tongue is dry when he hears the moan , his own lips parting as fingers tangle into his hair . he releases a low moan , gravelly and jagged , as he moves himself with all the purpose of a stalker almost . as if he’s hunting prey , climbing from behind the bard to instead move to his front at long last .

     it brings sight of the bandages woven around his chest and one arm , where the wounds from their previous hunt lay . but he only has eyes for the lark underneath of him , sliding so he can rest between legs , leaning down to press a kiss against a pretty throat .

     “ hm ? ” golden gaze wanders upward , the hint of a smirk on his lips as he hears his name . he knows what he’s doing , and he intends to have the bard going mad with want , while giving him every inch of himself that he can . a single taste and the witcher is absolutely hooked in a way he’s never been before . 

     he kisses his throat , and slides a hand down his waist , resting over he curve of a hip a his breath stutters in his throat . “ Jaskier … ” he breathes it out , a softly jagged moan against pale skin .

“Mmhmm,” is all that he can muster up to the sarcasm with that warmth against his ear. The back of his head connects with Geralt’s clavicle as fingers taunt his belly and begin to drive him more than a little mad for the touch. Is this what it’s like? To belong to him like this? Left wanting more and tethered to it with small touches that bring a barely sated want flooding right back in? 

Oh, he’s done for if that’s the case. Someone as addicted to passion, emotion, yearning the way he is? He doesn’t stand a chance..and in this moment? He’d be hard pressed to care with that moan coming in low as he feels the bed give and Geralt moves.

Feet drag up the bed as knees part and he makes room to welcome the other between his legs. A connection there that makes him shiver but the sight of Geralt above him doesn’t come without a small hint of worry creasing between his brows. He knows the other is wounded. It’s plain as day to see but he was there when it happened, too. The last thing he wants is for him to push himself..hurt himself worse..

“Are you sure,” he asks while tilting his head back to bare his throat to Geralt’s mouth. Raised little bumps of flesh chase after the witcher’s fingertips as his own move up to gently caress over broad shoulders and up into strands of white hair where they curl lightly held fistfuls. One foot lifts as he wraps that leg around Geralt’s waist. A loose hold that can be broken if needed.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered, looking out the window of the small cabin. The weather had turned quickly and they’d found the closest building to dash into. Luckily, it was abandoned and they wouldn’t have to worry about the residents complaining about two new visitors. Unfortunately, it did mean she was stuck with the bard that annoyed her to no end. He was the last person she’d expected to find. After their time searching for that damn dragon, she’d hoped to never see him again. But life changed and now Yen was stuck dealing with things she never imagined she’d have to; Jaskier included. And judging by the storm outside they were going to be stuck like this for quite a while. If they managed to get out of this alive it was going to be a fucking miracle. “Looks like we might be here a while. I don’t think we’ve seen the worst of this storm.”

In the grand scheme of sick jokes? This one ranks pretty high up there on his list. Stuck in a storm of abysmal amounts of snow, wind, ice in a building that he’s not sure how it managed to stay standing for so long. But at least it was shelter and the chimney was clear and if there was any luck at all? The wood that was left scattered in the corner might just carry a flame. However. What the worst part about being stranded--for who knows how long--in the middle of a winter’s fury? Was that he wasn’t alone. Oh! No! He’d prefer that! (Or so he thinks because reality’s about to smack him upside the head here in a few minutes--that wood’s not going to do shit on it’s own.) Compared to the ‘company’ that was wedged between him and silence. Unless you count the wind howling outside. A thin lipped smile is given to the witch as he settles back against a chair he’s not sure will hold but--he’s tired to his bones and prodding at the wood trying to get it to light. “Probably not. Getting hard to tell where night ends and day starts with the clouds the way they are. Doesn’t bode well for being on the road again any time soon.” Poke poke and a heave of a sigh. He’s getting nowhere..

     well . he certainly has him there . Geralt was no creature that thought himself desired in any sense of the word , at least in terms of want . certainly , he wanted others , but he wouldn’t be fool enough to risk everything for something that could easily tear them asunder . in a way , he had feared it , because his heart is not something to be trifled with .

     he swallows a little , fingers curving as his hands ball into fists before they relax again as he exhales . he knows he’s a fool at times , at least in matters of the heart . Geralt only breathes out a soft grunt , nosing into fine hairs on the back of Jaskier’s neck before his head tilts at the touch of fingers to snow white hair . it draws his attention , causing a soft moan to leave his lips as he presses more to the bard , arms securing a little more around him .

     “ maybe when it comes to you , I’m a little blinded . ” he doesn’t elaborate on what it means , only focuses on breathing steady as he presses in all the more . he wants more , and it shows in the way he runs his fingers along Jaskier’s abdomen , tracing nonsensical patterns as his eyes flutter shut .

     he doesn’t answer , but he truly doesn’t have to . he’s more than content to be fine with being a bit of an idiot with common sense where the songbird is concerned , and Geralt noses in a little more , his breathing taking a soft and subtle hike .

     he’s had a taste , now he just wants more .

Jaskier breathes out sharp when he feels strong arms tighten their hold on him. It’s a feeling he can sink into and one that ignites a fire in his veins all at once. Dangerous. It’s dangerous. In all the ways that lure him right in. Nights spent wondering what it’d be like. To be right here. And now right here is where he is and no one can fault him for indulging himself now that he has it. Not that he’d care if they did anyway.

“It’s alright. I think that blindness works both ways.. If I’m being honest,” he whispers. What is there to be in this moment if not honest? There are no walls that withstood what happened here. Not for now. He doesn’t have the willpower nor the desire to start rebuilding them either. And he’s in no rush to find it. 

A faint moan parts his lips when he shifts back to meet Geralt and a touch sweeps across his stomach. Fingertips curl against the snow white hair near their edges while the others dip down to graze over the knuckles moving over his belly. Eyes falling closed, he drifts off into the little knots of pleasure those errant patterns are weaving through his limbs. 

His tongue sweeps over his bottom lip before his upper teeth catch the edge and he turns his head to nudge his nose against the bared upper arm of the witcher. Stomach muscles tremble as thighs subtly part and the movement makes him dizzy in a way far more alluring than wine or liquor ever could. 

     daydreaming it was him . did he picture Geralt then , any time he left with someone in tow ? when Geralt watched as the bard disappeared into another room with someone , with a smile on his lips and sweet words dancing from his tongue . was it true ? would Jaskier wish it was him ?

     the witcher’s stomach curls and coils , and he swallows down a solid weight in his throat , feeling his breath hitch . he isn’t supposed to have emotions like this , it’s a terrible thing to have , but around the bard ? he can’t stop himself . they’re there , shown in minute amounts of vulnerability to Jaskier , revealing how human he is underneath his mutagens .

     his body is already recovering , and he can feel the coil of contentment in his belly , coupled with a yearning desire that draws his breath out shakily . Geralt stifles it , and noses into that slender neck again , closing golden gaze away from the world . “ that I couldn’t see ? ” it isn’t like he thought that Jaskier actually wanted him .

     he pushes the thoughts away , reaching a hand and curling his fingers around the bard’s , just holding . as he does , his eyes open again , catching a stormy gaze with his own before he blinks . “ the danger . the .. not so human aspect of me . ” a simple enough explanation . he worries , and right now , it shows .

“Of all the times I’ve watched you sense monsters and beings that my own eyes couldn’t. Or how many moments I counted between the times where you would glance off at a sound long before it reached my ears. And yet..,” he hummed as the fine hairs on the back of his neck rose with the nudge of Geralt’s nose and the warmth of his breath against his skin--his throat was growing tighter and warmth already began to pulse through his veins at the nearness and how gentle that caress of air was.

“Yet..,” he repeats himself attempting to pick up where he left off with a voice that’s a little less steady and ebbing towards wobbly, “you never caught what my glances met. Or how they always trailed off towards you in those moments before disappearing behind a closed door. Mmm. But that’s alright. In all my brashness. All my bravado towards mostly all things in life--I admit to sorely lacking it when it came to certain things about you.”

About what he wanted. Best to keep his mouth shut on certain things than risk being cast out. LEFT BEHIND. Fallen out of grace that meant he would be alone from a slip of the tongue he couldn’t take back. For what it’s worth? He does know when to keep his mouth shut. Even if it so often appears otherwise. 

With one hand held in Geralt’s, he reaches with the opposite to graze over a temple having to move his arm back and feather those long, slender fingers for the touch to glide a reassuring sweep over his hairline. Squinting into that gaze, he huffs a small laugh and finishes it with a grin. “If I was concerned about that, I would have run for the hills a long time ago. Wouldn’t I? You need to give what’s between us more credit--if the danger we are or we seem to get ourselves into is enough to end this? I would think that it would’ve happened by now?”

     ‘ and Jaskier was in trouble at Oxenfurt … ’ 

     seven words . seven words had sent Geralt on a hunt to Oxenfurt , to rescue the bard he had so cruelly left behind . that he had hurt , while hurting himself in the process . he had wanted to keep him safe , and thus , he had thrown up walls and barriers between the two of them , acted as if he had hated the man . 

     it leaves a sour taste in his mouth now , and he can’t help how vicious he is when he enters the cell holding area . when he violently strikes the guard , as if he can take out all his anger on someone else . anger that boils under his surface at himself , coupled with worry , and a jagged edge of a broken heart .

     his fingers reach , and he opens the cell , watching the bard and feeling his brow crinkle just slightly . it smooths out as waits for Jaskier to realize it’s him , holding silence for long beats until the bard suddenly moves forward . 

     something under the surface gives way , cracks and flows with the sudden eruption of emotion as his arms come up and he holds on to Jaskier . as he curves his arms around him , holds him as if he’s terrified of letting him go , breathing heavily and reaching a hand up , fingers tangling into dark strands .

     six months of Hell . of constantly dreaming of Jaskier and nursing his own battered wounds , his broken heart . six months of craving to be near the bard , to find him again and apologize as best as he can . six months of torture for himself , no matter where he went . haunted by the soft laughter of the lark and his smile , small things that hurt to miss . 

     “ Jaskier — ” he chokes on the name , only to turn his head . he holds fast to the bard , pulling him into a bruising kiss , his breath stuttering from his lungs and his fingers giving the tiniest tremble .

Tired eyes watch a line of wet run down the damp, earth smelling rocks. Dirt and slick and grime. It reeks in here. Gods only know what else is mixed in and he doesn’t want to know. The faintest smell of rusty copper. Probably crusted over blood from inside his own nose, no doubt. He can feel it inside. That’s there. The rest? He’s doing his damned best to try and ignore by watching such a trivial, mundane thing he’s got to squint to see straight.

There’s movement. He ignores that, too.  A subtle glance is given towards the direction of it and he straightens up the best he can. But he won’t let whoever’s coming see him drifting off. No. They’ll get him ready to fire whatever he’s got left at them. Even if his arsenal is getting dangerously low in energy. Piecing it together bit by bit? Every step he hears drawing nearer is a driving force behind that.

Until one heel is digging into the stones underneath his foot and he’s pushing himself up to try and stand. Knees wobble but they hold and his shoulder connects with the wall for support he’s doing his best to try and pretend that he doesn’t need. Tossing his head back to push his dirty hair out of his face with the movement, that gaze snaps towards the shadowy figure and he practically hisses out. 

A wounded animal growling from inside a bush, it sounds like. He doesn’t care. “Don’t you have somewhere else to---,” but his words cut short when the dawning realization of who he is looking at sinks in past the ache, past the exhaustion and he sees who it is. Feels him even. How...?

His feet do the moving for him. A forward momentum that’s staggering but gets him there into arms that are waiting for him. Arms that he swore he’d never fall into again. Arms that he’s doing exactly what he swore not to and all his slight weight comes tumbling against the witcher as he tucks his face away into the curve of a shoulder. Only to be caught on the way there by a kiss that’s been months in the making and one he never thought he’d feel again.

     they had traveled for so long , to a point where Geralt had seen Jaskier in a new light . to when he had felt a flutter of ice whenever the bard had gone off with someone else in the night , smile pulling at his lips . why would the lark ever want to settle with someone as battleworn as he was ? as scarred , as dangerous ? maybe this is a bad idea . part of him thinks it potentially could be ; he would never live with himself if he hurt Jaskier , or got the man hurt .

     he can’t allow that to happen . he can’t let the bard get hurt . 

     fingers splay further , gently resting over warm skin , as Geralt keeps his nose buried into the back of dark hair , closing his golden eyes for a long moment as he rests , listens . 

     “ me , frustrating ? ” he almost snorts it , but there’s a tug of his lips , and he kisses the spots he’s left blooming bruises in , featherlight . for a man so conditioned to fight and kill monsters , he has a side of himself that no one ever really sees . the gentle words , the softer voice . all of it right now , laid bare for the bard .

     “ watching you for months , seeing you go off with others in taverns and smiling in their direction … I can’t tell you how much it felt like I drank ice constantly . the chill . the want and need to be the one there . ” it’s barely murmured , and he feels himself sinking more into the bed . he needs a bath , and should probably get one soon , before he sleeps a little . he had never had any right to act on it , and therefore , never did . 

     fingers curl slightly , brushing over Jaskier’s abdomen .  “ … why would you ever want someone like me ? ” he finally has the gall to ask , breathing shakily .

Calloused fingers spread out across his belly and he can’t help the quiet gasp that parts his lips. Muscles tremble underneath Geralt’s touch and his attention’s drawn down towards the caress with a stare through thick lashes. Then-a smile as lips twist into a small smile and he hums in response.

Geralt’s not the only one who can give a hefty hm or two in response..

“Yes. You.” Hearing the snort pushes one out of him in return but it’s guttered out by the kisses to those tender spots and if Geralt isn’t careful? The bard’s going to end up tangled up all over again. It’s been a while. Content to bask in the quiet softness coming from behind him, he reaches his hand down and lazily traces his fingertips across Geralt’s knuckles as his hand moves in that slow movement. Then over the top of his hand. Barely there grazes of fingertips that linger.

Watching him? Months? He doesn’t move, only opens his eyes and curls his fingers against Geralt’s skin then traces them along his forearm with a quiet sound leaving him at the confession. “And months of daydreaming it was you... Even if I’d never confess it. It was always strange to me that you couldn’t see..”

Another sound and his belly jerks at the touch. Before he melts and smiles into the mattress with how good that feels. Someone must have hit a little sensitive area, hm? And then the question brings the smile into something more serious and he turns enough that he can look back at him over a bare shoulder and catch sight of him out of the corner of his eye.