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Oh Darling Monster Mine

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Dear Reader, 
I am sure that you are all familiar with that situation where you have to save the world from impending doom and you’re forced to band together with a bunch of misfits to form a ragtag crew that’s full of tension because you hate each other. Yeah, that? That is life for me at present. My name is Jaskier. First of all, I am an elf, knife-ear, scum, so on and so forth. Name-calling will get you humans nowhere. Second of all (as if being an elf is not enough), I am also a mage, surprise surprise, fate really does have a way of dealing me a cruel hand. This wonderful yet deadly combination has landed me the position of ‘healer’ in Geralt of Rivia’s band of misfits, or perhaps it belongs to Lady Calanthe Fiona Riannon. I am not sure. Either way, I get protection from Mage Hunters. Hurrah for me, I get to live one day more in a world where I am discriminated for being who I am. Things would be perfectly wonderful if I was the only mage. But then feisty miss expert of destruction comes waltzing into our lives and I find myself extremely at odds with most of the party. I care not to foster and build bonds with these humans. I care not whether they live or die. And most importantly, I care not what Geralt of Rivia thinks of me, his opinions are but fodder. I’ve told him that two mages on various ends of the magical spectrum are probably not a good thing to have in your team at the same time, especially when one’s a fire mage who causes destruction on a massive scale and the other’s blasting ice and healing all the injured members of the party. It is exhausting picking up after a particularly young human fire mage and sometimes, my patience snaps…


A week of silent travelling is about as much as Jaskier can take. Why should he keep on punishing himself when even Geralt doesn’t seem to care. The human is still bringing him along on their expeditions to recruit new members, so Jaskier knows that he is (to some extent) still needed in the group. Though they had stopped talking to one another completely. Jaskier’s eyes wandered across their camp to where Geralt, Triss, Calanthe, and Mousesack were sat around the fire, talking, laughing and having fun. Perhaps, a small niggling part of his elven mind wanted to be included, to be liked by the humans. 'But you don't care about that sort of thing. You don't need their approval.'

“You know you’re more than welcome to join in.”

Jaskier turned to look at the dwarf, bottles of Mahakaman spirit in hand. 

“Your invitation is most welcome Zoltan, but I’m afraid some would be quite averse to the idea of having an elf in the party at the moment.” 

Zoltan laughed heartily, “If it’s Geralt you’re worrying about, you have nothing to fear. The man’s been in a good mood lately.”

“And yet, I can’t help shaking the feeling that things have not been the same since a certain other mage joined,” Jaskier retorted.

“Ah, you’re worried Triss has stolen the limelight, eh?” 

Jaskier scowled, “I don’t know where you got such a notion from, dwarf. The woman poses no threat to me. If anything she is a nuisance! Every time we finish a battle it is I who has to douse the fires right after.” 

“The forest and its creatures thank you for your services,” Zoltan teased, as he handed a bottle to the elf, “Come, take the night off,” he continues as he steers Jaskier in the direction of the campfire. 

Jaskier followed. He noticed the way Geralt’s eyes met his and perhaps his mind was playing tricks but the human smiled wider, laughed a little louder, leaned a little closer towards Triss. They sat and talked about the week’s journey. About that time when they met Triss. About the future. About what would happen after Geralt saved all the lands. Calanthe wanted to start a school in Cintra for women to train as soldiers. Mousesack wished to settle down and start a family. Zoltan yearned to open his own brewery and tavern. Triss wanted to open an orphanage for young mages where they would accept young mages of both human and elven kind. And Geralt just wanted to live to see the end of this entire ordeal. Jaskier refused to answer saying that he didn't have any plans for the future and would much rather just live in the now. He drank and listened and drank some more. Then when all was said and done, they drew lots for the night watch. Geralt with the shortest stick. Jaskier with the second shortest.

So the rest of them headed off to their tents to retire for the night while Geralt and Jaskier remained around the fire.

The wood crackled and popped as the white-orange flames danced endlessly into the night. Jaskier lost himself in the flames, hypnotised by them, he didn’t speak and neither did Geralt. Time slowly crept by as the crickets began their nightly song. Winter’s chilly grasp was slowly tightening and Jaskier hunkered down into his cloak, leaning back against the large log as the cold winds rustled their tents. He heard Geralt shift, saw in his peripheral vision as the warrior crossed over to Jaskier’s side to sit next to him. Geralt settled ineffably close. The press of his arm against Jaskier’s own sent a shudder coursing up the elf’s spine. He heard Geralt clear his throat and thought that the warrior might speak.

But he didn’t.

He wondered just what Geralt was thinking about on a night like this and before he knew it he'd opened his mouth, “Geralt…”


Jaskier kept his eyes set adamantly on the flames, “If you don’t mind my asking, I want to know why you brought me along on this trip...when we are so clearly fighting.”

“Are we fighting? I wasn’t aware that we were,” Geralt replied. 

“Are you daft or just being plain sarcastic? We are most definitely fighting,” Jaskier replied, “You haven’t said a word to me in a week. And it started in that tavern, back when she decided to join us. If this is not fighting, I don’t know what is.”

“So you noticed," Geralt is amused and the slightest bit surprised, "Triss is only trying to help our cause. She is no different from you.”

“Do not compare me to her,” Jaskier bit back, “Mage or not, she is a human and humans will always be treated better than scum of the earth elves.” 

“Why is it that I don’t see you complaining about Calanthe or Mousesack, they’re human too.” 

“They’re different.” 

Geralt raised a brow, “How?” 

“I don’t have to clean up after Mousesack when it comes down to a battle and Calanthe, well, the woman is the one who hired me for my magical expertise. I was tasked with bringing you out of the ice and waking you up when she and the Cintran Guards found you in the beginning of all this. We are civil at best.”

“And yet you cannot spare some of this civility of yours for Triss?”

“Civility for a woman who is constantly poking fun at me and then turns around and says she wants to start a mage school for humans and elves?” Jaskier scoffed, the Mahakaman spirit fuelling his anger, “I think not! She’s a hypocrite is what she is. I know her kind. They cover up their past make it seem like they’re all nice and welcoming. Just you wait, once we’re back in Cintra’s stronghold, Calanthe will send out her spymaster to gather information on this new one.” 

"She's only trying to get to know you better, Jaskier," and then Geralt’s brow furrowed, “Do you mean to say Calanthe’s suspicious of Triss? Or are you the only one who believes that she’s got a darker past?” 

His tone was accusatory and it hurt Jaskier all the more that Geralt thought that way. Jaskier wanted to hurt him back, “You must certainly be blinded by love then. Triss and Calanthe have argued more times than I can count in this week alone. Who’s to say what’s going to happen when we return to Cintra? Perhaps you have not borne witness to it yet, or perhaps Calanthe fails to mention it to you but it would be common knowledge not to pick up a stray troublemaker and bring her on a journey with others who so clearly find her lack of finesse and genteel a problem! Perhaps she is here to please you but—”

“Please me?” Geralt laughs at the absurdity of the idea, “Whatever do you mean by that Jaskier?”

Jaskier glared at the human, “Well, let’s not be coy about it, Geralt. We all know a human male’s ravenous appetite for sex, don’t we? Here we are on the road at the moment, travelling through forests with nary a brothel or town in sight for miles. Let’s just say that your new pet mage is the answer to your needs, the water to slake your dying thirst. In fact, you shouldn’t even be sitting here and arguing with me right now. Why don’t you go and head to her tent where you can satisfy your needs. I can manage the night watch just fine without you.” 

A dark look crossed over the warrior's face and amber eyes glared back at the elf. Jaskier did not back down. He knew that breaking away from their staring competition would mean that he had lost and to a human no less. So he held Geralt’s gaze.

The warrior took a deep, calming breath, closing his eyes and breathing out before he spoke, “I think Zoltan’s let you have far too much to drink tonight. Right now, I don’t like your tone or where this conversation is going.”
“And I don’t like Triss,” Jaskier snapped, “Or you for that matter! But you don’t see me complaining about it on a daily basis because I was forced into this…to…to babysit a warrior and bring him back from near death and now I’m putting out forest fires for a mage who seems barely capable of controlling her own powers! I wish you had just died!”

“Fuck…” Jaskier sighed as he felt the anger leave him in a second. The words were out of his mouth before he could even stop them. His war-drum-like heartbeat mellowed as regret washed over him almost instantaneously. 

“Anything else you’d like to say?” Geralt’s voice was soft but with an edge to it. 

Jaskier swallowed, “Geralt...I didn’t mean to…I…I’m…” He shook his head as he got to his feet. His elven pride would not let him apologise. “I’m going to patrol the perimeter.” 



Three days later, with the towers of Cintra’s stronghold visible on the horizon, their small party accompanied by a handful of Cintran Guards were ambushed by a band of Redanian Mage Hunters. For them to be this deep in Cintran territory, there was no doubt about the fact that the Mage Hunters had been tracking them since the encounter at the tavern in Temeria. They’d simply worked out their destination and had lain in wait for Geralt and their unsuspecting party. By the time they realised what was happening, it was too late.

“Stop them and bring me the elf and the fire mage!” the Captain of the Mage Hunters yelled as they were attacked.

The hounds snarled and snapped about at their heels as the Mage Hunters brandished their dimeritium imbued swords and shields. 

It took the party a few moments to reorganise themselves, but Jaskier was soon caught up in the thick of battle, casting protective shields and freezing hounds in place with ice. His first thought was to protect Geralt who was front and centre of the battle, hacking and slashing away at the Mage Hunters. Close behind him was Triss whose bursts of flames kept the Hunters from getting too close buying Geralt time and space to manoeuvre. Calanthe too worked with sword and shield with Mousesack butchering the hunters, cleaving them in two with his two-handed great sword. That left the stragglers to Zoltan on his crossbow and Jaskier with his mage-y powers.

As the battle drew on, Triss’s powers waned and Jaskier diverted his attention to Geralt and her. He cast a protective barrier spell for the two of them, just in time for one of the Hunter’s axes to bounce right off and wedge itself in a tree. Jaskier pulled back enough to get as many Mage Hunters in sight and with a bit of focus, he cast a chain of lighting that rippled through the ranks for the Hunters effectively stunning them, especially the one that was readying to strike at Geralt’s unguarded back. 

Jaskier’s heart was in his mouth watching as Geralt fought, his strokes were no longer as swift but he managed to cut down the stunned Mage Hunters. Pausing for a moment’s breather before he blocked and then stabbed his blade up and into the body of an oncoming enemy. 

At the sound of a horn, the second wave of Mage Hunters descended upon them. At least twenty strong, they crowded in from all sides.

“At the rate this is going, it should be a war!” Zoltan growled as he readied his crossbow and a handful of bombs.

“How the fuck do they have this many of them lying in wait?” Calanthe hissed as they closed in back to back now. 

“Beats me, they’re an adamant bunch just like their King,” Mousesack said as he rested, against his sword, catching his breath, “Radovid must have a death warrant out for one of you, huh? What’d you do?” 

“Oh, don’t ask me,” Jaskier snapped, as he readied his staff, “Look to your resident lady of destruction if you want an answer.” 

“I barely even know him, elf,” Triss retorted venom in her voice as she readied twin globes of flames in the palms of her hands. 

“Last chance, Geralt of Rivia,” the Captain of the Mage Hunters said as his men surrounded them on all sides, “Lay down your weapons, hand over your mages and you’re free to go. Why waste your time protecting those monsters hm?” 

“Because they aren’t monsters!” Geralt replied, “Your king might think so but they are the answer to stopping the Wild Hunt and the Eternal Frost and I will protect them with my life if I have to.”

“Suit yourself,” the Captain of the Mage Hunters said giving the signal to attack.

In the chaos that ensued, the party’s formation was broken and the brunt of the Mage Hunters were targeting Calanthe who was protecting Triss. One look and Jaskier knew that Geralt could not help them either for he was focused on holding his ground at his end of the field. 

“Zoltan!” Jaskier called as he knocked back one of the Mage Hunters with a blast of wind, “I’m going to need your help. You need to fire on the hunters that are attacking Calanthe and Triss!” 

“Just a second!” Zoltan grunted as he stuck a dagger into one of the Mage Hunters that got too close. 

“Now!” Jaskier yelled, already in the midst of casting a freeze spell. The Mage Hunter’s motions slowed and came to a stop as they turned to ice and Zoltan’s rain of arrows effectively shattered the three of them. Calanthe and Triss turned to look at them from across the field both breathing heavily as relief spread across their face only for it to be replaced not a second later by horror. 

“Jaskier look out!”

The dimeritium arrows came out of nowhere almost as quickly as the Mage Hunter’s sword.

Everything seemed to have frozen in time like a painting. Jaskier brought to his knees by the twin arrows buried deep in his thigh. Geralt standing before him, shielding the elven mage with his body as he put himself between the Mage Hunter and Jaskier. The human’s hands were wrapped about the blade of the Mage Hunter's sword, clasping tight. Drops of crimson blood dripped from his hands. 

Jaskier could not move. He could feel the blood rushing in his veins, the thumping of his heart in his chest. The high of the battle thrumming through his body but he could not move. For the thought that Geralt was protecting him…getting hurt because of him…paralysed the elf completely. This is why he didn’t want to get close to the human. Getting close meant caring. It meant getting involved…and inevitably developing feelings…


“Go. Now,” Geralt ground out. 

“No…I’m not leaving you…” Jaskier said as he tried and failed to bring forth his powers. It had to be the arrows, they were made out of dimeritium and they were poisoning his bloodstream, nullifying his powers. “I can’t…” he tried again, focusing on feeling the rise of the power inside him. 

“Zoltan! Mousesack! Take him!” Geralt barked, grimacing as the blade cut into the flesh of his palms. 

“No!” Jaskier growled at them, fighting as he felt Mousesack’s hand close around his wrist, drawing him up, “No, please! Don’t take me!”

“Jaskier, you are in no state to fight!” Zoltan snapped nodding to the arrows. 

“I’m not going to let some stupid arrows stop me! Let go of me!” Jaskier ground out feeling the panic rising in him, “Geralt needs me…I need to protect him! Please!” he fought against them, against the dimeritium in his veins. 

“Let! Me! Go!” he howled and felt the hum of his powers coursing through his veins once more. A whirlwind of ice and snow gathered about him as Jaskier unleashed the full force of his powers upon the Mage Hunters, throwing Mousesack and Zoltan backward in the process. 

He skewered the one that had attacked Geralt with a large pole of ice. Then Jaskier turned to the remaining Hunters. It was easy and effortless. Freeze. Shatter. Freeze. Shatter. Freeze. Shatter. He caught the one that was running away dragging him back with force of an invisible, icy wind. The Mage Hunter’s bloody nails scraped helplessly against the ice as he screamed for help. 

From somewhere up ahead, the other Hunters fired their dimeritium arrows and Jaskier pulled up and ice shield. The harmless arrows struck and fell like toothpicks as he limps towards the hunter that was trying to crawl away. Jaskier’s eyes are but flaming blue orbs, heartless and unseeing, he raises his hands above his head. A large shadow begins to form above the Mage Hunter and his eyes go wide in horror as a large slab of ice grows…and grows…

He shuffles back on his hands, “No! No! Please!” 

Jaskier does not listen to his cries.

Instead, he brings the slab of ice crashing down upon the Mage Hunter. There is a sickening resounding crunch of bones being ground together as the Mage Hunter is squashed like a fly by the slab of ice. The surrounding ground turns a deep sanguine as the blood of the Mage Hunter seeps into the icy earth. Jaskier then turns his attention to the fleeing soldiers. A flick of his hand and they are stopped in their place, their stances caught in mid-run as the ice encases their legs, fracturing across their skin and growing upwards to encase them in a freezing, icy prison. 

The elf saves the Captain of the Mage Hunters for last. Letting the ice crawl up his skin like a living breathing thing. It creeps over skin and clothes and grows until it reaches the Captain’s neck where it stops, waiting for its master's orders.

“Had enough yet?” Jaskier asked, as he approached the man.

The Captain glares daggers at the elf, teeth chattering as he spoke, “Th-This is wh-why your k-k-kind need to die!”

“Yes…indeed...” Jaskier hums in mock agreement, “I suppose we are monsters…but unfortunately…so are you!” 

Jaskier clenches his fist and the ice immediately contracts around the Captain’s neck serving as a blade might, it cleanly decapitates the Captain’s head. Jaskier barely even flinches as the Mage Hunter’s head is sliced clean off and his face is sprayed by the fresh arc of arterial blood. The elf isn’t phased. With an eerie sense of calm that seemed to border on boredom, Jaskier simply freezes the arterial spray and continues on to his next target. The remaining three Mage Hunters who are encased in ice let out muffled noises of protest as their panicked eyes flick from left to right as though that small movement would help to free them from the ice. 

Jaskier raises a hand to shatter the ice prisons…

But the elf stops when he feels a warm touch against his arm and a voice calling to him from somewhere distant.

“Jaskier that’s enough. You need to stop.” 

The mage felt those same warm hands turn him around and he stands before a strangely familiar face. He blinks unseeing and makes to turn away. 

Geralt raises his hastily bandaged hands to cup the elf’s frosty cheeks, “Jaskier wake up,” he says staring into flaming blue eyes, “Come back to me.”

The blue flames die down just a bit, “Ge..ralt…” the elf breathes as his fingers flex at his sides. 

“Yes, it’s me. I’m here,” Geralt replies as he shuffles closer to Jaskier dipping his head, he presses his forehead to Jaskeir’s icy one, “Don’t worry. It’s alright. You're alright. You’re safe now. Come back to me.”

Jaskier feels as though he is being awakened from a deep slumber, drawn from the depths of a sea full of rage. 

“Geralt?” asks this time with recognition as his eyes go back to their normal blue-grey hue. His breath comes out cold despite the fact that the midday sun is shining down upon them.

“I’m here,” Geralt reassures him.

“You’re…alright,” Jaskier whispers relief flooding his features.

“Yes. I’m alright.”

Jaskier smiles weakly, “Good...that’s good…” he whispers and then his eyes flutter close and the elf’s body goes limp. 

Geralt catches Jaskier just in time, drawing the elven mage close to his body. Jaskier must have exhausted all his powers. 


Under Calanthe’s instructions, they made camp for the night a little ways away from the icy battlefield in the shadow of an old barn. Geralt tended to the elf’s wounds and would have spent the entire night taking care of Jaskier had Calanthe not suggested that they take turns to look after the sleeping mage. The warrior was adamant that he was fine enough to watch over him alone. But when he nearly collapsed at Jaskier’s bedside, Calanthe and Mousesack had to confine him to bed as well. Something was definitely not right. Now Calanthe only worried that their resident healer would awaken too late to help them. 

As if her wishes had been heard, Jaskier shuffles about in the makeshift bed. Blue-grey eyes turn to her and the mage raises a brow, “I’m surprised to find you here Lady Riannon,” the elf says as he pulls himself up, sitting in bed. 

“Geralt’s indisposed.” 

Worry flashed across the elf’s delicate features, “What happened? Is he alright?”

“Well after your powers went berserk you fainted. Geralt carried you back here and tended to you himself. He nearly keeled over from exhaustion, at least that's what I think it is,” Calanthe explained. 

“I should go and see him,” Jaskier mutters as he makes to stand feeling a sharp pain course up his left leg, forcing him to sit back down on the bed. 

“Careful, dimeritium might not affect your powers, but you still had your leg pierced by arrows,” Calanthe said as she handed Jaskier his staff and helped the elf to stand. 

Jaskier wanted to refuse but the glare he got from the woman was enough to keep him silent. So he relied on Calanthe as he hobbled across the camp, passing by the tents of Mousesack and Zoltan who were already snoring away, deep in sleep before stopping outside Geralt’s. He could already hear the voice of that pesky fire mage coming from inside and his heart sank. 

“We should go. It seems he’s busy seeking the help of a certain fire mage.”
Calanthe smirked, “Is that jealousy I’m hearing? You were out cold, Jaskier and in no state to help him.” 

“Even when I recover and I have recovered, I’m not going to help him,” Jaskier said pointedly as he tried to hobble away.

“Oh but you most certainly are,” Calanthe replied as she gave the elf another stern look, steering him back towards Geralt’s tent, “You are going to help him because it is your duty to help keep him alive. Remember? That is why you signed on with us in the first place.” Then she lowered her voice, “And also if it came down to choosing who I would want to protect us, it would be you and not that Temerian sorceress pretending that she knows anything about healing. Don’t get me wrong, she is good at what she does, which is burning people and things and charging bravely into a fight but when it comes to tending to someone’s wounds and healing magic. I believe Geralt would do better in your care.” 

Naturally, Jaskier would never have let another human’s words sway he decisions at all…but this is Geralt that they were talking about. So, of course, Jaskier would go and see how he was no matter what.

“So you’ll go and take a look at him?” 

“Alright, alright…” Jaskier mutters playing the part of the annoyed elf as he inches closer to the entrance of Geralt’s tent before stepping inside. 

He finds Triss fussing about how the wound still looks puffy and red. Geralt, on the other hand, had already turned his attention to him. Jaskier hobbled over to them, relying heavily on his staff. One look at the wounds on Geralt’s hands and he already knows what the problem is. “The wounds are red and puffy because the Hunter's sword contained poison, the sap of the henbane plant.” 

“Poison from plant sap?” Triss turned to him, “How can that be possible? Wouldn’t Geralt be having more serious symptoms then?”

“The Mage Hunters need only render us mages immobile. What better way than to use a dimeritium blade coated in henbane. The right amount of poison will cause your limbs to fail along with minor hallucinations and wear off in hours. That's why Geralt nearly keeled over just now, as Calanthe said. All you’d have to do is to purify the wounds, simple enough.”

Triss frowned, “Well then, I think I have reached the limit of my capabilities,” she admitted as she stood from Geralt’s side, fixing Jaskier with a pointed little stare as she left Geralt’s tent. 

Alone together again, Jaskier hobbled over to Geralt’s side and took a seat. He set his staff down. 

The silence between them is so apparent and thick that one could slice through it with a knife. Jaskier takes Geralt’s hand in his examining the angry red cuts. With a little concentration, he summons the gentle blue flames of purifying spirit fire and he holds it over the wounds. 

Geralt hisses and Jaskier stops, drawing back. “I’m sorry but the poison is rather deep-rooted.”

“Mmm…I probably should have woken you up sooner then,” Geralt replies as he meets those gentle blue-grey eyes. 

Jaskier nods, “Yes you probably should have,” he murmurs as Geralt holds his hand out again and Jaskier continues to heal it. 

“So, will I die?”

Jaskier shakes his head, “Your wounds are non-fatal, I’m afraid, so the answer’s no.”  

Geralt rumbled an approving, “Mmm,” before asking, “Are you alright?” 

“What do you think? I’m here am I not?” 

“Jaskier, I nearly lost you out there, twice,” Geralt reminded the elf.

Jaskier let go of his hands now and Geralt examined the sliver of raised skin tissue left behind on the palms of his hands. 

“That rampage you went on…what happened?” 

“I don’t remember much. They wanted to take me away from you,” Jaskier replied, “And…I couldn’t leave you not after what I’d said and especially not after you’d saved me.” 

“You could have died.”

“But I didn’t,” Jaskier retorted.

“Because I didn’t let them have you. From now on I’ve got your back. You can rely on me.” 

“I am not weak,” Jaskier bit back, “I don’t need your protection. Unlike other people, I can protect myself just fine.” 

“I have no doubt about that. But—” 

“What? I’m too dangerous? I’m a monster? An abomination?” Jaskier snarked as he cut the human off.

Geralt looked half offended by the elf’s words, “No. I’m only worried that you’re going to harm yourself. Your powers must have taken a toll on your body today. It couldn’t have been easy to overcome the dimeritium’s nullifying powers.” 

“It wasn’t…” Jaskier muttered feeling strangely pleased with the fact that this human was concerned for his wellbeing, “But when I thought of them hurting you…when I thought that you might…die…because of me…because I wished it on you…” Jaskier trailed off as he met Geralt’s amber eyes. He felt his throat constrict, “I was rude. I spoke out of anger. I am sorry.”

“What's this? Is this really Jaskier that I am speaking to?” Geralt teases noting the way the elf’s cheeks coloured with a beautiful blush that spread right up to the tips of his pointy elven ears. 

“If you tell anyone about this I will not hesitate to call you a liar! As it is, I don’t apologise to humans on a regular basis…so…you'd best count yourself lucky…” 

Geralt laughed, “Your secret’s safe with me. Your words might have stung but it is good that I know what you’re thinking about sometimes.” 

Jaskier raised a brow. Did the human truly care about what he thought about?

“You’re just always so quiet that I half expected that you hate us, or me in particular.” 

“I don’t hate you,” Jaskier replied hastily. 'If anything…it’s quite the opposite really…'

“I just find it hard to fit in with humans, with people. I always have and I think I always will.” 

“I think you fit in well with us,” Geralt replied, “Calanthe treasures your wise opinions. Mousesack and Zoltan are constantly in need of a good patching up. I’m sure Triss can stand to improve her skills if you would only give her a chance and…as for you and I…” 

Geralt leaned in towards Jaskier who almost instinctively drew back. The warrior chuckled at the mage's response, “I think you and I would get along perfectly fine…” he says as he reaches a hand to cup Jaskier’s cheek, holding him in place just long enough to press a kiss against the elf’s soft lips, “…don’t you?” 

Jaskier was practically speechless as he stared at the human who had just kissed him. He brought a hand to his lips, “Geralt you…you…” 

Geralt smirked, “Stole your first kiss?” 

Jaskier flushed in embarrassment, “I will have you know, human, that most certainly was not my first kiss!” 

“Hmm…then I suppose that you won’t mind if I do it again…” 


Geralt gripped the elf’s chin and slanted his lips over Jaskier’s sighing softly into their kiss at the feel of the elf’s tongue running languidly against his own. Jaskier leaned into the warrior’s larger frame finding himself kissing back earnestly so much so that when they pulled back, it took Jaskier some time to catch his breath as he met the human’s eyes. 

“Don’t you ever try that with anyone else, am I understood?” 

“You have my word,” Geralt promised and kissed his mage softly once more, “I’ll save my kisses for you.”