Chapter Text
Jaskier hated his job.
Night shifts at the gas station always passed by so slowly. Jaskier would rather be doing, well, anything else with his time rather than sitting at the till, watching the clock slowly tick through another hour. He would scroll through his social media, waiting for his next customer of the night to arrive and ask for some obscure items. His record of people in a night is an outstanding four and that was only due to roadworks causing a diversion.
Jaskier wasn’t built for sitting and waiting for the next customer. He liked to be on his feet, with an instrument in his hand and an audience at his full attention. Though, that was a rarity nowadays, given his writer's block. His subscribers had almost halved in the past month due to his lack of content.
Another thing he didn’t like about working here was that It was always too hot in the store, leaving him to unbutton the first two buttons of his shirt and fanning himself with a folded magazine.
His phone read 2:04am. The only customers he’d had tonight were a truck-driver who had asked for a bag of nuts and an eloping young couple who he managed to haggle five dollars from by promising not to tell anyone he saw them. So, all in all, it was a pretty standard night. He wasn’t expecting anyone else any time soon.
Jaskier refreshed the page to find he had lost another two subscribers.
“Traitors,” he sighed.
His notes were a bundle of lyrics, all too bland to be of any use. He’d like to think of himself as a lyrical genius, but nothing seemed to want to pull him out of this dump he had found himself in.
He had one song go viral in his lifetime, and that had been an angry heartbreak song over the breakup with his most recent ex, Valdo Marx, four months ago. The asshat had used it to boost his own popularity by writing a song in response. Ever since then, Jaskier had been writing songs that just missed the mark while Valdo had slowly been clawing his way up the charts.
The cheating bastard.
The dingle of the door drew him from his inner monologue about how much he hated Valdo and wanted to run him over with his ca–
“Excuse me, do you sell cleaning products here?” a young woman’s voice called.
Jaskier looked up from his phone and was met with the sight of a gloriously beautiful woman. Brown hair fell in light waves over her shoulders, long and falling just under her shoulder blades. Standing out from her features were two starkly blue eyes which, Jaskier had to say, looked inhumanly bright in the bestest of ways.
He realised he was staring when she cocked her head at him.
“Uh, oh, yes. Back right corner, we’ve run out of sponges.” he said, rather dumbly.
Jaskier didn’t miss the amused smile on her lips as she turned to make her way to the back of the shop.
Scolding himself for the very not Jaskier response, he pretended to look busy and as if he hadn’t just been on his phone for the past few hours. And by busy, he meant pressing a bunch of buttons on the cash register.
When the woman returned, she had an armful of cleaning products. He had many people buying odd things in his three weeks working here. Though, what stood out were the three bleaches. She must be doing a very deep clean.
“What brings a lovely lady such as yourself here at,” Jaskier glanced at the clock, “2:20am in the morning?”
She smiled at him. “I was working a night shift at the hospital.”
“You’re a nurse?”
“A doctor, actually.” She wasn’t irritated by his mistake, simply bagging the items as Jaskier scanned them. “It seems quite quiet here. Don’t you get lonely?”
Jaskier shrugged, leaning his elbows on the counter. “I do. Though, it’s nice to have some very lovely company once in a while. That’ll be sixteen dollars.”
She paid but made no move to leave. Instead, she rested her own elbows on the counter and mirrored him. “Well, I don’t have places to be. Mind if I stay in your ‘lovely company’ for a little longer?”
Her gaze trailed from his own eyes down to his lips, then further to the neck of his shirt where he had unbuttoned it earlier. It sent a pleasant tingle down Jaskier’s spine. When her eyes met his again, her eyebrow was raised suggestively.
Jaskier had to stop himself from sounding too eager when he replied. “Of course, how could I say no?”
“I’d hope that you wouldn’t want to.” She said, voice low and just for him. Her eyes felt to the open top of his shirt, her tongue running over her lip as if the sight made her hungry.
Jaskier felt oddly turned on.
“Call me Vessa.” she said smoothly, reaching out to run her fingers up his forearm.
“Jaskier.” he replied, watching her fingers disappear up his rolled up sleeves.
“ Jaskier. ” She tested his name on her tongue. Jaskier liked how it sounded. “I like it.”
The door dingled, startling Jaskier and causing him to stand up straight. He missed the look of blatant disappointment on Vessa’s face as he moved away from her. Instead, he was staring at the man who had just walked into the station.
If he thought Vessa was beautiful, then this man was a god on earth. With long white hair and chiseled chin, broad shoulders and muscular arms, and, oh dear lord, that arse. Now, Jaskier could write ballads about that beauty. He was dressed in black leather and black… armour? Were those swords on his back?
Oh dear, was this most stunning specimen Jaskier had ever laid eyes on a LARPer?
“Hello!” Jaskier greeted cheerfully. Perhaps, far too cheerful for the early hours of the morning.
The man simply turned to regard him for a short moment before stalking further into the store. The dismissal was clear enough, making Jaskier frown before Vessa caught his attention.
Vessa looked clearly unhappy with the turn of events. She grabbed her bag and offered Jaskier one last smile. “I’ll be off then. I hope to see you very soon, Jaskier. ”
Jaskier watched as she left, waving her goodbye when she walked past the window. He was sad to see her go, her company had been a breath of fresh air in this stuffy gas station.
Someone cleared their throat, startling Jaskier from where he had been staring out of the window. He looked across the counter to see the man from before standing there, an empty coffee cup in his hand. But Jaskier wasn’t looking at the cup, or the massively terrifying swords on his back.
Jaskier was caught in those amber eyes, like a deer in the headlights of an oncoming car. Frozen in space and able to do nothing but stare. He knew then and there what this man was.
A Witcher.
Yet, what Jaskier was feeling was the complete opposite of fear.
His somewhat trance was interrupted by a low voice, rough yet firm, and oh god, Jaskier was sure his knees were about to go.
“Your coffee machine. It’s broken.” the man said.
“It is?” Jaskier asked, though his voice betrayed him and brought him up an octave. He quickly cleared his throat and spoke again, this time in his normal register. “It is?”
A nod. It appeared the man was finished talking.
“I’m very sorry for the inconvenience.” Jaskier said. “Oh, but we have a machine in the staff area, I can quickly brew you one up in there. I’m technically not meant to but, for you, I’ll make an exception. What can I get you?”
Unperturbed by Jaskier’s rambling, the Witcher handed Jaskier his coffee cup. “Just a black coffee.”
“Of course, best black coffee in town, coming right up.” Jaskier said, keeping up his smile on his face as he took the cup and turned to push through the ‘staff only’ doors.
Placing the cup into the machine, he pressed the button for a regular black coffee. The machine had always been slow, so he allowed himself to go back to the counter while it brewed.
The Witcher was standing right where Jaskier left him, looking down at the counter where Jaskier’s phone lay screen-up. Notifications had popped up on screen, including a text from his neighbour, Yennefer, saying something about rescheduling wine night. He tried not to be too disappointed.
“So, what brings a Witcher to these parts?” Jaskier asked. Amber eyes snapped up to look at him again and it felt like the breath was stolen from his lungs – which was a big compliment considering Jaskier’s enormous lung capacity.
“There’s been a wyvern sighting on this road.” The Witcher said. He didn’t elaborate.
“A wyvern? I haven’t heard anything about a wyvern.” Jaskier said and he was honest.
“Hm.” Was his only reply from the Witcher. He really wasn’t very talkative. Lucky enough, Jaskier could talk for the both of them.
“I’ve heard a lot about Witchers. Is it true that you file down your teeth because they’re so sharp?” When Jaskier was met by a glare, he backtracked quickly. “Of course you don’t, that’s just a silly rumour. I don’t know why people would even think that.”
The soft ting of the coffee machine rang out from the back room causing both heads to turn. Jaskier went to retrieve the coffee and returned to give it back to the Witcher. He received a soft grunt which he took as a thanks.
“See you around. Oh, I never caught your name?” Jaskier asked in hopes that he could put a name to that glorious face.
The Witcher didn’t reply. He simply turned and left the station.
He really hoped that this wouldn’t be the last time he saw the Witcher. With few words and a lot of glaring, he had made Jaskier’s night significantly less boring.
—–—.......—–—
A long night and a good sleep later, Jaskier had gone to yoga class as he did every Saturday afternoon. It was as calming as it usually was, loosening up his tense muscles from his boring evenings of just sitting around doing nothing. After the session, he hadn’t left without having a long chat with the ladies that attended the classes with him.
“Did you hear about the attack last night?” Jody asked, “It was dreadful!”
Gertrude, their eldest member, nodded. Her eyes were wide as she spoke. “That poor boy, his throat ripped out. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“That sounds awful. Where was it?” Jaskier asked.
“Not too far from that crappy gas station on the edge of town.” Anni replied, their youngest member. “You know, the one on Farrel Street.”
Jaskier stared at her in shock. He was there last night… Could it have been the wyvern?
“Isn’t that where you work, Jaskier?” Gertrude asked. She placed a gentle hand on his arm, calming his racing heart.
Jaskier nodded and gently patted her hand with his own in thanks. “Do they know who did it?”
Anni shrugged. “Some people are calling whoever, whatever, did it a vampire.”
“It’s terrifying! You must be careful, Jaskier, don’t go into work with this maniac on the loose.” Jody said. For someone who had just spent an hour and a half doing yoga, she was prone to giving into her nerves.
Jaskier, full-well knowing he would be working again tonight because he needed the money, nodded. He gave her his best smile of reassurance. “I’ll be careful, Jody, don’t you worry. Now, if you ladies don’t mind, I need to get home. Thank you for another delightful session, I’ll see you all next Saturday.”
And with a wink, he was walking off.
The walk wasn’t too long and was rather pleasant despite the chill. He had to make a pitstop at his favourite bakery when he spotted a batch of cookies in the window that reminded him very much of Yennefer. With Halloween quickly approaching, their goodies were all scary-based. The cookies just so happened to be in the shape of a she-demon.
It reminded Jaskier back to when he and Yennefer met, having both just moved into the apartment building. They had hated each other back then, both shooting insults at each other as if it were nothing. Some of her comments had been downright hurtful . Though, one time, they had bumped into each other on a night out and one drunken evening later, they were best friends. He liked having her as his neighbour and, although she never admitted it, he knew she liked having him as hers.
He paused outside her door, wracking his knuckles against it in a little rhythm he liked to call, ‘Open Your Fucking Door’. He only stopped knocking when he heard footsteps on the other side of the door. As the door opened, he dramatically brandished the cookie he bought her with a flourish and a bow.
“I bought you a gift, m’lady.” He announced, his head ducked down between his arms in his dramatic pose.
“Thanks.” Came a voice that definitely did not belong to Yennefer.
Jaskier looked up in alarm to find the Witcher from last night standing in the doorway. He looked down at Jaskier with a raised eyebrow and folded arms, clearly unimpressed by Jaskier’s grandiose display. The leather and the armour was gone and, in its place, were a pair of low hanging sweatpants and a t-shirt that hugged the Witcher’s muscles like its fabricy life depended on it.
The musician, usually so eloquent with his tongue, was left looking like a fish. His mouth opened and closed in an attempt to find words, hoping to somehow save himself from further embarrassment. He didn’t fail to notice the twitch of the Witcher’s lips, almost as if he were amused by Jaskier’s failed attempts at english.
The Witcher simply plucked the cookie bag out of Jaskier’s hands and walked back into the apartment, leaving Jaskier in his pose, awkwardly blinking like a brainless twit.
“You can come in, Jask.” Yennefer called from wherever she was in the apartment and, finally, Jaskier was able to pull himself upright and walk in after the Witcher.
He shut the door lightly behind him and rid himself of his shoes. Jaskier walked into the living room to find Yennefer lounging on her loveseat while Geralt sat in the armchair, munching away at Jaskier’s cookie gift. Jaskier gasped in offense.
“I bought you a cookie but that brute over there is eating it.” He said as he made his way over to the loveseat. Yennefer didn’t mind moving her legs for him, in favour of draping them over his lap instead.
The Witcher just gave him another “hm” in response.
“Don’t ‘hm’ me, mister, you owe me a dollar.” Jaskier said, pointing an accusing finger at him.
“Now, now, songbird.” Yennefer said, “Don’t go threatening my guests.”
Slumping back in the loveseat with a pout, he shot the unfairly gorgeous Witcher one last withering glare.
“Let me introduce you. Jaskier, meet Geralt of Rivia. Geralt, meet Jaskier, my annoyingly loud neighbour.” Yennefer said, gesturing at them with a perfectly manicured hand on their respective turns.
“We’ve met.” Geralt said.
“I’m not loud.” Jaskier argued.
“I heard your rendition of the entirety of Grease when you got home this morning.” Yennefer said, giving him a knowing look.
“I’m not that loud.” Jaskier corrected. He decided to turn the conversation onto something else entirely. “How do you two even know each other?”
“You could say he’s an old friend.” Yennefer replied, “He’ll be staying here for a while.”
Jaskier didn’t know whether he liked the sound of that or not. His insanely hot but terrifying neighbour harboring an equally as hot Witcher in her apartment would be both a blessing and a curse.
Then, something clicked in his brain. He knew where he had heard Geralt’s name from.
“You’re the Butcher of Blaviken.” Jaskier said and immediately regretted it.
It was as though the air was sucked out of the room, replaced with a thick feeling in the back of Jaskier’s throat. Both sets of eyes on him, one of anger and the other of warning.
“Right, we don’t like that nickname. Got it. I’m sorry.”
Geralt made a noise that sounded very similar to a growl and got to his feet. He left the room without another word.
“Oh god. Did I offend him? Yenn, darling, please tell me I didn’t just anger the Witcher.” Jaskier said.
Yennefer removed his legs from his lap and sat up. She was looking at the door through which Geralt retreated. Jaskier felt guilty for even bringing up the nickname.
“He may not appear it but he is rather sensitive.” She said, “The story behind the name still hurts him.” She must’ve recognised the look on Jaskier’s face because she shook her head, “It isn’t my story to tell. You would need to ask him.”
Jaskier sighed and nodded.
“Are you two like… together?” He asked instead.
“No. We tried once but our relationship was always bound to go down in flames.” She replied.
“Is he together with anyone?”
“Jaskier, do not try and fuck the Witcher.” Yennefer said.
Jaskier had the decency to look offended. “Hey now! Who said anything about trying to fuck him? Can’t appreciate a good-looking man when I see one?”
Yennefer didn’t look convinced so Jaskier slouched back into the cushions with reddened cheeks.
“Now, tell me why you got me a cookie that looked like a stereotypical female devil?” Yennefer asked, a perfectly sculpted eyebrow raised in amusement.
“It reminded me of you.” Jaskier replied, glad for the change of subject.
Yennefer’s smile was sharp. “You’ve always been so kind to me.”
“Only the best for you.”
The rest of the day went by until Jaskier left in the early hours of the evening to get ready for work. Geralt didn’t come back into the living room and Jaskier got the strange feeling that the Witcher was doing so to avoid him.
—–—.......—–—
Another night shift, another empty station.
Jaskier, who would usually fill the silence with whistling or humming, remained silent for the most part. The conversation with the yoga ladies was still fresh in his mind, leaving him wary and listening out for any sounds of distress from outside.
He had read the article regarding the murder before he left for the night. The young man was around his own age, with thick brown hair and blue eyes. Jaskier thought it a scary coincidence that the man looked so similar to himself. Had he not been struggling to make ends meet this month, he wouldn’t have come to his shift tonight, but he needed the money and the night shift offered double pay.
It was around the 2am mark when the bell jingled, signifying his first customer of the night. Jaskier looked up, half-expecting it to be yet another truck driver on his way through to Toussaint. However, he was pleasantly surprised to see it was Vessa.
Her hair was tied up into a tight ponytail this time, not a strand out of place. She wasn’t wearing a jacket. Jaskier thought she must be cold. Good thing the station store was always boiling.
“Vessa, it’s lovely to see you.” Jaskier said, watching as her features brightened up at the sight of him. “How was your shift?”
“Busy.” She replied as she walked up to the counter. She didn’t seem to want to buy anything. “Very stressful. I lost a patient, he lost too much blood.”
Jaskier leant against the counter. “I’m sorry to hear that, my condolences. At least it’s over now.”
She smiled and he offered her another of his own back.
“You can go home and relax, maybe watch a movie. I know I like to watch Legally Blonde whenever I’m feeling stressed, Elle Woods is my role model.”
“Elle Woods?” Vessa asked, seemingly entertained by his small ramble.
“Her story is very motivational.” Jaskier said. “Though, I also find a warm bath helps me calm down after a stressful day.”
“I know other ways to destress.” Vessa said. She was looking at Jaskier through her lashes, a coy smile on his lips.
Jaskier liked where this was headed. He was tired, bored and hadn’t had any in a while. This was good.
“You do? Why don’t you show me?” Jaskier asked, putting on his best smile that he knew left ladies, and men, swooning.
Vessa grinned, much like a shark, a sexy shark, and prowled around the counter. Once she was in the staff only section with him, she crowded him up against the wall. She was close enough now to kiss if he just leant forward a few inches.
Though, when his gaze dipped to her shirt, thinking of the best ways to get it off of her, he noticed the red on the collar. It wasn’t only a small splatter, it was as though the blood had soaked into the fabric. It took a brief second to process that it was blood. He must’ve been so lost in her eyes that he hadn’t even noticed it until she was up close and personal.
Jaskier’s brow furrowed in concern. “Have you been bleeding?”
Vessa’s eyes widened momentarily. She glanced down at herself with a frown before looking back up at him.
“It’s nothing.” She rested her hands against his chest, one thumb slipping into the open top of his shirt and brushing against warm skin.
Jaskier was half-tempted to drop it and pull her closer but something didn’t sit right. On closer inspection, the shirt looked a tad too big on her. It had to be tucked into her trousers and puffed at the waist to look presentable.
Vessa was lightly nosing at his throat, lips brushing over his pulse point.
“It’s not nothing, it’s blood.” He said, placing his palms on her shoulders and lightly pushing her away.
She looked up at him as if mildly hurt that he had stopped her. “I told you it’s nothing, don’t worry.”
Jaskier felt the tingle of distrust in the way her gaze slithered back down to his throat as she avoided answering his question.
“Vessa—” He started but he didn’t get the finish as she clamped a hand over his mouth.
“Why don’t you listen?” She snapped. “Humans never listen. You’re too curious.”
Jaskier felt panic seize his heart. He tried to move but the hands on his mouth and chest shoved him back against the wall, hard.
He should’ve noticed it sooner. He should’ve seen the signs.
Vessa simply breathed in deeply. “I can hear your pulse. Your heart is beating so fast. You’re scared of me. Or are you excited?”
Jaskier tried to shake his head, his protest muffled by her palm.
“Scared it is.” That shark-like grin was back and, this time, it was terrifying. “I like fear.”
She tugged at the collar of his shirt harshly. He heard the fabric tear and the buttons go flying. Her tongue darted out over her lips.
“He told me that you were special.” She said, her eyes never leaving his neck. She was staring at where his artery was located. “That your blood is special.”
Her hand slipped from his mouth in favour of slapping a hand against his cheek to force his head to the side. Jaskier took the opportunity to finally speak. He had always been a talker when he panicked.
“Who said that? I’m pretty sure they’re lying. I can guarantee there is nothing special going on here, just an aspiring musician who really doesn’t want to die as a one hit wonder.” He said, “I’m nothing special, I promise. Hey, hey, woah, hold on there.”
As he spoke, Vessa’s nose came to press against his pulse point and she inhaled deeply. He pushed himself as close to the wall as he could, praying the it simply sucked him in and away from his beautiful monster. Even as Jaskier panickedly whimpered and begged, he felt her mouth part and the tips of too many teeth pressed lightly against his skin. He felt the beginning of a scream in his throat. Jaskier’s eyes squeezed shut, expecting unbearable pain.
The pain never came.
The bell dingled as the door slammed against the wall and almost flew off its hinges. Jaskier’s eyes shot open to see Geralt of Rivia storming through that doorway like some warrior angel sent straight from heaven. The Witcher didn’t even hesitate to hurl a dagger straight for Vessa.
The woman, the monster, had to let go of Jaskier to get out of the way. She flung herself backwards, hissing in anger at being interrupted. Now that Jaskier could see her face, he could see just how many teeth she had. Weak at the knees and now weak in the stomach, he did the best he could not to double over and vomit.
Geralt was fast. He was running and catapulting himself over the counter with agility Jaskier didn’t think he had with his build. If Jaskier wasn’t too busy trying to steady his shaking knees, he would’ve been impressed.
The Witcher lunged at Vessa, his sword slicing across her chest. The limited space around them gave her nowhere to move to in an attempt to get away. He aimed high, she ducked low. She let out a screech that had Jaskier covering his ears before she went for Geralt’s neck.
Geralt pivoted and his sword burst through her back, entering through her sternum.
Jaskier didn't think he’d ever see a vampire kebab. Now, he really was going to throw up. Though, just as he doubled over, he heard Vessa speak. When he looked up, she was staring at him over Geralt’s shoulder.
“You may be the key.” She said, “But you’re not worth dying over.”
Jaskier didn’t know what she meant but it offered him no comfort.
He could do nothing but watch as she twisted her body in a way that is humanly impossible. Her feet pressed against Geralt’s chest as he arms gripped the blade protruding from her back and she shoved. Geralt stumbled backwards, sword clattering out of his grip as it slid free of the monster.
Vessa’s clothes ripped as her body rapidly shifted into something grotesque. Her face broke apart and revealed wrinkled skin, beady red eyes and a large mouth filled to the brim with sharp canines. Her arms grew into wings, her body molded into something of Jaskier’s worst nightmares. It was something that resembled that of a bat though, Jaskier would claim it to be more of a monster.
She spread out her wings and, before Geralt could grab his sword, was launching forward and straight through the window. Glass sprayed everywhere, Jaskier ducked and shielded his face with his hands.
Silence quickly followed, only broken by the shakiness of Jaskier’s too quick breathing and the creak of Geralt’s armour as he stepped past the panicking human and looked out the window.
“She’s gone.” Geralt said when he was sure. “Are you hurt?”
“That depends whether you’re asking physically or mentally. ” Jaskier replied, his voice wobbling in his attempt to stage his bravado. “What was that?”
“A bruxa.” Geralt said.
“Oh.” Jaskier said, “Do you know what she meant about me being the key?”
“No.” Geralt sounded annoyed by that.
“Double oh.” Jaskier blinked. Everything was spinning. “Uh, Geralt, you might need to catch me because I think I’m about to pass out.”
And, just as the world tipped dangerously to the side, he felt strong arms catch him before everything went black.