Next chapter of my cat witcher OC (Nix) fic. See the Masterpost for content/warnings. Masterpost here.
I won’t spoil it, but it’s soft. Probably only one chapter after this <3
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Nix was lying on her back on a bench in the courtyard, soaking up the sun, when she heard Jaskier, strumming his lute and humming to himself. As he approached the bench, she spoke up.
“You’re just drawn to someone enjoying peace and quiet, aren’t you? Like a cat.” She cracked an eye open to peer at him.
“Thought you were the cat,” he retorted with a grin.
She sighed, but dropped her feet to the ground on either side of the bench, leaving a spot at the end for Jaskier to sit. He dropped onto it happily, fingers still picking out the melody he was working on.
“So, enjoying the sunbeam, kitty?”
“I was enjoying the sun and the quiet,” she started, and Jaskier’s grin faltered, “but I suppose a bit of company won’t hurt.” His grin picked back up.
“So, you’ve been tearing through the poetry books! And did I hear you reading out loud to Eskel from one of them the other day? So romantic, Nikola!”
Nix made a noise of disgust, draping an arm over her eyes. “Oh, shut up.”
Jaskier grinned wider. “Where’s the fun in that? It was very sweet. Have you seen the way he looks at you? Like an overgrown, devoted puppy dog.”
“Jaskier!”
“What? It’s true! It’s a compliment to you both. It’s adorable. I think I’ll write a song about it. The witcher and the assassin. No, that won’t do at all. The wolf and the kitty cat? The—”
“Jask, how would you like to wear your underwear as a hat?”
“How would… why would I do that?”
Nix sat up in one swift movement, a dangerous twinkle in her dark green eyes.
“Oh! Oh, no. That look spells trouble. Listen. I am wearing fresh clothes, and I am holding a very precious instrument, so whatever you are planning…” He quickly stood, backing up slowly with his hands held up placatingly in front of himself.
“I’ll give you a head start,” Nix said.
“Nix, beautiful, smart, wonderful Nix—”
“Ten, nine…”
“Ahh!!” Jaskier turned and started running for the doors to the keep.
Nix smirked and went back to laying on the bench. She let Jaskier’s words run back through her head, and a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. She knew that Eskel seemed interested in her, seemed to care for her. But her mind was usually quick to excuse it away: that he cared only because she meant something to his family. That he pitied her. That he was just a caring, helpful person, but that it didn’t mean anything about her in particular. But both Aiden and Jaskier seemed to think it was more than that. The thought was still a bit scary, but it was also exciting. It made warmth flood under her skin.
“There you are,” came a warm voice.
“Hmm?” Nix lifted her head and shaded her eyes to see Eskel walking towards her. He was smiling.
“Jaskier said I might find you out here. He seemed a bit frazzled - were you tormenting the bard?”
She grinned and dropped her head back down. “He was the one tormenting me!”
“I’m sure it was mutual. Enjoying the sun? You aren’t too cold out here?”
“No, the sun is wonderful. I’m solar-powered.”
Eskel walked around the bench to stand behind her head. “May I?” He asked, gesturing to the spot where her head was.
“Hmm?” She peered up at him, then realized what he was asking. “Oh. Sure, alright.” She sat up a bit, letting him sit where her head and shoulders had been, before laying back down with her head in his lap. He pulled the tie out of her hair and gently combed his fingers through it, and she let out a pleased sigh.
“I still don’t know how you managed to get out of the keep unnoticed yesterday, and yet I was caught! In my own home! And by Jaskier, no less!”
Nix laughed. “Tough luck, Wolf! Some of us are built for stealth, some of us are built for strength…”
“I am plenty stealthy! And you’re plenty strong.”
“Mmm.”
“Gallant rescue on your part, though. You haven’t called in your favour yet.”
“I’m saving it,” she said with a smile, eyes still closed.
They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, Eskel slowly combing through Nix’s hair while she melted into the bench and his touch.
“The snow will be melting in the pass, soon. Will you be going down with Lambert and Aiden, when it’s time?”
“I guess.”
Eskel was silent a moment, massaging his fingertips against Nix’s scalp, eliciting the faintest purr from the Cat. He smiled to himself.
“You could come with me, if you like,” he offered quietly. Nix’s eyes flew open, emerald staring into gold. His hand in her hair paused, then he blinked and looked away to the trees. “We could still take our own contracts, that doesn’t have to change. But the path doesn’t need to be so lonely. And inn rooms are cheaper when shared. Bedrolls warmer, too.” He glanced down to find Nix staring at him with wide, wet eyes. “And if you find yourself dreaming of being a frog, we can go be frogs, for a while.”
Nix sucked in a breath and held it.
“I know a place in the forest outside Toussaint,” Eskel continued. “There’s a little waterfall, a clear pool, and a cave for shelter. Perfect spot to be a frog and shirk responsibilities.”
Nix sat up swiftly, shifting to face Eskel. “Do you mean it?” she asked shakily.
“Of course,” he replied solemnly.
Nix surged forwards and crashed their lips together, a little off-centered, lips mashed into teeth, more feeling than finesse. After a moment she pulled back an inch, drawing in a shuddering breath, and their eyes met.
“Is that a yes?” Eskel asked, voice quiet and hoarse with emotion.
Nix nodded, then gulped. “Yeah. I’d like that,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper and wavering with emotion.
Eskel slowly raised a hand, brushing it along her jaw before combing into her hair, grasping the back of her head lightly, then leaned back in, gently pressing his lips to hers. It was soft, gentle, and full of emotion. Too much and not enough all at once. Nix made a quiet whimper into the kiss, shuffling forwards on the bench. Eskel’s other hand reached out to rest softly on her hip, his thumb stroking her soft shirt. It wasn’t clear if she moved forward first or if he pulled her forwards, but she was then straddling his lap, held in strong arms, lost in soft lips and hot breath. When they broke to catch their breath she buried her face in the crook of his neck.
“Alright?” he asked softly.
“Yeah,” she murmured, tightening her arms around his back. “A bit overwhelmed, but good. Great.”
He hummed, giving her a squeeze. “Great.”
They sat there for a while, secure in each-other’s arms, breathing in the crisp air and each-other’s breath. She felt warm, and safe, and settled in a way she’d forgotten was possible. She didn’t ever want to leave, and she found she didn’t really have a reason to. She could have this. Could keep this. And she would fight to do so, if she had to.
I lost the prompt, but @veritasrose wanted some soft hurt/comfort with the wolves. Geralt is in pain and in a funk, and his brothers take care of him. 609 words
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Geralt woke up in his bed in Kaer Morhen, in pain and in a funk. His knee and elbow ached, the room around him looked grey, and the air felt oppressive. He wanted to pull the bedding over his head and stay there, but he knew that the longer he lay there, the more uncomfortable he would get.
With a grumble he threw the blankets back and pulled himself up and out of bed, slowly tugged his clothes on, and headed downstairs.
As he walked around the table in the dining hall his knee twinged, and he bumped into a chair with a curse before dropping into the one next to it. Lambert looked up from his seat on the other side of the table and raised a brow. After silently appraising his brother for a moment, the younger witcher went to the kitchen without a word. He came back a few minutes later to find Geralt rubbing at his knee, and handed him a steaming mug.
“Drink this, pretty boy.”
“What is it?” Geralt eyed the mug skeptically.
“That tea Vesemir makes, for inflammation and shit.”
“Why?” Geralt looked at him with narrowed eyes. “What did you do?”
“Oh, shut the fuck up and drink it, would you?”
Geralt rumbled, but did as he was told.
Eskel came out of the kitchen with Vesemir, putting out plates laden with breakfast. He quietly served Geralt, then himself, and Geralt grunted his thanks. They ate a quiet meal, and after silently appraising the younger wolves while they ate, Vesemir asked Geralt and Eskel to clean and organize the library instead of continuing the repairs they’d been doing outside the day before.
In the library a few hours later, Geralt dropped a book and cursed, then kicked the shelf in front of him before letting out another string of expletives.
“You want to talk about it?” Eskel asked.
“What, dropping the book?” Geralt said bitingly. Eskel just gave him a look in response. “It’s nothing. I woke up sore. And… it’s… quiet here.”
Eskel’s lips quirked. “Never bothered you before.”
Geralt scowled and didn’t answer.
“Couldn’t be missing someone, could you?”
Geralt let out a quiet growl.
Eskel chuckled. “No, of course not.”
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Over dinner, Eskel turned to Lambert.
“Hey Lambert, what do you say to a throwback? We all sleep out in front of the fire here, like the old days?”
Lambert spluttered. “What, are we—” Eskel shot him a look to shut up, then cut his eyes to Geralt and back, and Lambert changed course. “I mean, yeah, a good ol’ fashioned puppy pile! Sounds, uh, sounds great.”
Geralt didn’t say anything, but after dinner he went over and started piling furs on the hearth. When everyone was done with dinner and clean up, Eskel, Geralt and Lambert flopped onto the furs, bellies full. They shuffled around until Geralt had his head on Eskel’s middle, and Lambert’s was on Geralt. Eskel pulled the tie from Geralt’s hair and started combing through the silver strands with his fingers. Geralt felt tension that he hadn’t realized he was holding melt away from his body.
“You should invite him next year,” Eskel murmured.
“What? That isn’t - I mean, who—” Geralt said, and Eskel huffed a laugh.
“Just think about it.”
“Hmm.”
Lambert had started softly snoring, and shifted to curl into Geralt’s side.
Geralt laughed softly. “He always was a cuddler in his sleep.”
“But he’d bite you before he’d admit it,” Eskel said.
“Mmm.”
They lapsed back into silence, Eskel lightly scritching Geralt’s scalp.
“Thanks Eskel,” Geralt said softly.
“Any time.”
Geralt drifted off to sleep, cozy and warm and safe.
“Haven’t you heard?” the two music students look at each other concerned. “Professor Jaskier suddenly fell ill, so they took him to the coast to recover.” The witcher frowns, something about that isn’t right….
reblog and continue the story with another (1) paragraph
The bard has never been sick. Not once, in the twenty odd years that the witchers have known (of) him.Speculations about the “humanity” of the bard have been one of the main subjects during the winters at Kaer Morhen.
