Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters of the witcher. Those are property of Mr Sapkowski and I using Netflix series canon mixed with the books and my twisted version of the lore.

Global warnings for the whole fic : self depreciation, depression, common witcher violence and swearing, sex scenes even though I won't go into detail, whump, blood and wounds descriptions (nothing to graphic), monsters, homophobia

Note :

This is my modern AU. This is a collection of stories. For the moment, it will cover S1 and S2 of the show with inclusions of the books version but in a twisted way. I will tell the stories mostly from a geraskier point of view. So I will skip some stories or tell them differently when they are not together. This is Geralt POV only. Also I am changing a lot of predicates in this story to install my version of the lore and the general ambiance.

Note that we have a pan Jaskier and a bi demisexual Geralt here. So if you are not into this, please leave this story :).

I will publish each story in a short delay, but I won't be regular in between stories.

The devil of Posada - Part 1

Buddy

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Geralt rubbed his week-long beard while he was listening to the farmer, in company of the town master. His long white hair strictly attached in a catogan and his amber eyes hidden under the shadow of a black cowboy hat were distinctive signs of his mutated nature. While the two swords on his back and his all black outfit were characteristics of his profession. Witcher was a hard job, half way through superstitions and fears. Geralt knew where the truth was but years after years his missions had become harder. Monsters were real but rare and bullets replaced swords and the respect of nature. So many rare inoffensive species had been brought to the edge of extinction and witchers refusing to kill blindly, as he was, were often rejected and had bad reputation.

Also for Geralt, the reputation was set up for a long time, from some unfortunate events at Blaviken. So, for those who recognised him, he was The Butcher. To be known for taking human life over monsters was an assured bad start for any mission he had.

He had been called to take care of a devil, this time. This was his first mission after the winter's break and Posada, the last human outpost before the eastern wilds, was a little town of maybe a few hundred souls dispatched on a big colourful countryside. Posada was known for its flowers and was in bloom. The pollen was tickling his sensitive witcher nose. He had no allergies but the strong flower scents could mask the monster's one.

He saluted the farmer when he was about to leave after the short interview but was ignored, and the town master said with an urgent tone.

- "I have had ten reports like that per week since the beginning of the bloom. That devil is damaging fields, especially potatoes and corn ones that are yet to grow. It has been seen in flower fields too and we are afraid that it would destroy our precious commerces. Posada doesn't have much to offer other than that, we cannot afford to lose tourists because of that creature. Spring is our best season. So what do you say witcher ?"

- "I say that devils don't exist." He replied with a deep rough voice.

The town master was a short man with very little sign of wealth. Geralt was becoming nervous about the payment. Posada was indeed a small town living mostly on tourism. Those people were farmers and there were obvious signs of deterioration.

- "What is it then ?" The town master didn't seem too happy by his answer.

- "I will find out." He sighed. "I take the case."

- "Oh wonderful !" The relief was evident.

- "My tariffs are not cheap, I hope you are aware."

- "Yes yes… But we'll see after you take care of the devil or whatever it is. Here are 500 orens." He said taking an envelope in the glove box of his car. "You will get 500 more when the job is done. This is all I can offer."

On that statement the town master jumped in his car and left the place in a dust cloud. Geralt snorted. He counted the money. The 500 were there, but he already knew that this was all he would probably get. If he didn't have results he was assured to never find a job there for years. And if he had results, they would find any reasons to cancel the second payment. This was the kind of mission where money was easily vanishing from the equation. But he couldn't skip this payment this time. 1000 orens was a bit short but better than anything. After the cold winter in the northern mountains with his brothers, his car needed some repairs. He needed that money badly. He needed results and proof.

Gerald had an old black pickup car with brown leather seats. An antiquity some would say. An outrage to good tastes his brothers stated. But the brown leather was what he liked about it. He put his swords on the passenger seat and made a sign to the farmer as he got in his vehicle as the man was glaring at him. Well, witchers weren't seen with a good eye in general, so it was not a surprise. Maybe this one knew the legend of The Butcher of Blaviken on the top of that. Geralt clicked his tongue in disapprobation and started the engine to leave this place in the shortest delay.

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This was the end of the afternoon and the days were still a bit short in the latitude. The sun wasn't yet down but the sky was already tainted with the warm colours of the dusk. The countryside was charming and he understood why Posada was visited in this period. His eyes slid to the east where the blueish shadows of the nearby mountain chains were separating the land from the sky in the growing fire of the dying day. Beyond were the wild lands. The mystery could come from there. He would have to take a look tonight.

He aimed for a small road motel with restaurant outside the centre. There were several road bikes parked in front of it. From the tribal paintings on the oil tanks, they belonged to Reavers. This was the sign of both a good place to stay for hunters and a potential agitated night. Geralt parked on the other side, for good measure.

He took both his swords and his travelling bag in the back of the pickup to get in the restaurant part of this place. But even if he took his belongings, he had no intention to sleep there. They were simply more secure with him. The prices displayed on the card at the entrance were correct but he had barely any money to spare. A simple beer and a hamburger would do. He would sleep in his car somewhere, as he always did.

He pushed the door of the restaurant and two opposite things jumped at his face. Or to be precise, to his ears. The noise and the music.

The Reavers were there, separated in two groups. Some at the bar, some around a table, both with food and company... All heavily intoxicated by the huge amount of alcohol they drank, speaking and laughing loudly. And on a small wood platform, in the back of the room, salon style, there was a singer, sitting on the floor, ignoring the ambient noise, strumming the strings of a small harp and singing in elven. In his back there was a straight piano against the wall.

Geralt looked at him with both admiration and concern. He was a young man, probably in his early twenties, with too much light in him to be playing in this environment and really unaware of the danger he was incurring here. He was lucky the Reavers didn't pay attention to him, and the rest of the clientele was too busy to be afraid of them to notice the language he was using.

Elves were even a more endangered species than the monsters he was paid to kill. Every northern country had their specific laws against them and very rare were those who could still survive in a human society. Elven was an almost banished language. But that young man didn't seem to care.

Geralt went to the bar, ordered his drink and food and found a table in a corner. He put his stuff in the next chair and began to focus on the musician. He had short brown hair and incredible crystal gray eyes. His voice was an enchantment. He had very little amplification but his voice was clear and his instrument was going through the noisy fog of the room. Soon the witcher couldn't take his eyes off him.

Geralt was not a man easily attracted to anyone but what was emanating from this young lad was a magnetic charisma. And his voice was like a siren enchanting the sailors. He was aware he was staring but he needed to know if the singer was any kind of creature in disguise.

He had the general stature of an elf, thin waist and general longline silhouette but his clothes were changing his lines a bit, hiding a stronger upper body than it seemed. Also his pale blue shirt was half way open on a quite hairy chest for his age. Elf didn't like much hairy features on their body, even to hide among humans they used to get rid of any superfluous pilosity.

Geralt focused on the young man's face. Even if he already eliminated the elf possibility, he looked at his ears. Elves weren't the only species to feature pointy ears. Faes too. Both used aesthetic surgeries to remove most of the specificities of their species when they tried to blend into the mass. Ears were the most common surgery done but they were often operated in shady places and there was always evidence to look at. But this man's ears were normal.

He didn't have to but Geralt looked at his mouth and eyes. No contact lenses to hide the faes peculiar irises on his mesmerizing gray eyes and no evidence of canine filing from his dashing smile.

The waitress interrupted the spell, serving him his hamburger and pint of beer. She smiled at him though.

- "Don't look at him like that, he would think you are interested."

- "What ? No... I was just wondering why he chose this repertoire to sing in this place." Replied the witcher.

- "Oh Jaskier likes those old elvish songs. He can play the piano too and when the clientele begins to get itchy, he does play some more local songs. He likes love songs too. But with the Reavers tonight, I think he would switch soon to a more manly repertoire, if you know what I mean."

- "He is a recurrent singer of your place ?"

- "Yeah for this season only though. He plays 2 days a week. He doesn't have much success here. But he has talent for sure. He should try big cities, in Redania or Cintra to get a chance. But he seems ok to have just a small income, a room and some food for the night."

- "You seem to like him." The waitress blushed slightly.

- "This is not you business." She said with a corner smile that he could easily interpreted as "I have an affair with him".

This point and the waitress' statements were both validated later. Some Reapers suddenly acknowledged the nature of the background music, they vociferated some profanities and Jaskier went to the piano to sing more common bar music. He ended the show on a famous Nordic song about food and women that had all the audience clapping and laughing. After that the Reavers decided to leave and everything was quiet again. Geralt observed the young man removing his material from the small stage and then finding the waitress to kiss her in a corner between the bar and the passage to the kitchens. He rolled his eyes, leaving his tip on the table.

The witcher took his packages and left the restaurant discreetly but his stayed on the parking, sitting on the back of his pickup. The night was young, the sky was a soft dark blue and the western horizon was still painted with a thin layer of warm colours. Stars were shy but visible. He took a cigarette out of his pocket and began to smoke, looking at all those Reavers bikes aligned in front of him and the little lights in front of the occupied rooms of the motel.

He wondered what they were hunting there. No dragon had been seen in years in this region… From a not hidden behind curtains window, he saw one of the hunters peeling off a woman from her clothes while kissing her with savage passion. He looked at the scene with a strange curiosity and detachment. Witcher were created by several mutation processes during childhood that destroyed their hormonal system to change its nature completely. They were all sterile as a result, but his brothers had kept some sexual attraction in them. He didn't. Sometimes he wondered if it was a consequence of the extra mutations he went through to get his superior vision and sense of smell.

But soon the door of the restaurant opened and he saw the young musician coming out, walking straight toward him. Geralt tried to ignore him but he was the objective without any doubt. The singer stopped by his car and looked at it with some interest. Geralt couldn't tell if he was sincere or not. He smelled like flowers.

- "Nice car, buddy."

- "I am not your buddy."

- "Ok buddy." The young man smiled. He was radiating a spontaneous joie de vivre. Geralt sighed.

- "Don't you have any survival instinct ?"

- "Why ? Because you are a witcher I have to be afraid and treat you like a monster, Geralt of Rivia ?" He tilted his head slightly.

- "You know who I am ?" He was surprised.

- "Well you practically undressed me with the eyes when I was singing but you didn't notice me looking back, that's funny." The singer pointed his stuff in the back of the car. "Two scary looking swords, dark outfit. You are a mutant, known as a witcher. And there are not many of you with white hair and golden eyes. I supposed you are the infamous Butcher of Blaviken, ."

- "If you don't want me to punch you in the face you would not pronounce those words ever again."

- "Ok buddy."

Geralt sighed again. The waitress was right. He shouldn't have stared. Now, that Jaskier had noticed him and was probably thinking that he was interested in him. He could read in the young man's eyes a little bit more than curiosity. He had a seductive demeanour that was disturbing.

- "Don't you have better things to do tonight ?"

- "I am just curious about you, that's all. This is rare in this place to find some connoisseur of elven music. And this is even more remarkable when the person is a witcher."

- "I was just evaluating how much you were an idiot to use elven language in a place like that. Those Reavers could easily turn against you."

- "I know."

- "So why did you continue that long ?"

- "Because you were listening." Jaskier smiled again.

Geralt squinted his eyes slightly. Was he trying to seduce him ? He threw his cigarette in the dirt and jumped out of the platform of his pickup to give himself some attitude.

- "If you excuse me, I have to go."

- "Where ?" There was a certain urgency in the man's voice.

- "A place not suitable for a singer. I am on a hunt."

- "Ohh ! You are after the devil of Posada ! I have heard of it. Can I come with you ?"

- "What the fuck ?! Didn't you just hear what I said ?" Exclaimed Geralt.

- "Yeah ! Sure. But, I always had an incline for mysteries. I am sure that it could make a great song. Maybe some better than elven ones to sing there."

- "No. You can't come. Hunts are not safe. I won't take any human with me, even if they were warriors."

- "Ok..." He seemed genuinely sad about it. "But would you come back here tomorrow. I will sing again."

- "Yes."

Geralt was surprised by his own answer. But it was too late, he said yes. Jaskier's face was brighter than ever.

- "I am looking forward to see you then. Nice hunt, witcher."

- "Yeah, thanks..."

Geralt just turned heels and took his swords to put them in front. He secured his package on the platform and jumped back at the driver's place. The young man just pushed himself out of the way when he made his exit and he looked at him go. The witcher saw him waving him goodbye on his mirror as he was leaving the motel area.

As he took the direction of the mountains, he couldn't stop thinking about this strange guy. This was the first time in his long existence he met someone like him. So open. So full of joy. And almost innocent in a way. But he had to focus now. The mountains areas would tell him what creatures lived here and what to expect from the one that was damaging the farmers cultures.

I hope this start suits you :)
See you next week for the next chapter.