#I could cry about geraskier for AGES | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bambirex · 9 months

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It's A Game We Play

Pairings: Geraskier, Yennskier, Radskier

Characters: Jaskier, Geralt of Rivia, Yennefer of Vengerberg, Radovid, original female characters, Essi Daven, Priscilla, Ciri of Cintra, Valdo Marx

Additional tags: inspired by Mamma Mia! (movies), crack, alpha/beta/omega dynamics, omega jaskier, alpha geralt, alpha yennefer, beta radovid, awkwardness, jaskier is a good parent, protective jaskier, weddings, found family, post mpreg, fluff and humor, alternate universe-modern setting

Rating: teen and up audiences

Word count: 2,390 words

Chapters: 1/?

Summary: Jaskier's daughter is about to marry the love of her life, and she decides she wants both her parents at her wedding. Only problem is that Jaskier has slept with a little too many people in his youth, so the identity of the other parent is a mystery. That does not stop the bride-to-be from inviting three potential daddy candidates and unleashing absolute chaos in the process.

Otherwise known as Jaskier's terrible horrible no good past decisions leading to terrible horrible no good outcomes. Also known as the Mamma Mia! AU nobody asked for, but I wrote it anyway.

Author's notes: It's time for some crack!!!!! What do you get when you have canonically slutty Jaskier, and add Bambi being a multishipper who loves chaos? That's right, you get a Mamma Mia!AU !! I'm planning on using the plot of the first movie pretty loosely. As in, I will probably not do scene-to -scene recreations, but take advantage of the general idea and the setting!

Feedback is super appreciated!!! Let's get the party started!

Read on Ao3

“I can’t believe this day has come.”

“Papa, it’s not my wedding yet. I’m just trying on dresses, remember?”

“Still,” Jaskier smiled, blinking against the sentimental tears in his eyes, “my child is getting married. She’s picking out her wedding dress, how am I supposed to cope with this?”

Amaryllis cooed and leaned up to kiss her father on the cheek. Jaskier immediately wound his arms around her, enveloping her in a crushing hug.

“You promised no crying until the ceremony,” Amaryllis reminded him. Jaskier chuckled against her hair.

“I’m failing, obviously.”

But who could blame him, Jaskier mused as Amaryllis finally managed to pull away. He let his daughter take his hand and lead him inside the saloon, her steps happy and prancing, so adorably enthusiastic. Amaryllis was his only child, his baby, his light in this world. Of course, he would become emotional (over and over again) over the fact she was soon to be a married woman. Amaryllis’s fiancée, well, soon-to-be-wife, Sara, was the sweetest thing. Jaskier loved and trusted her, but that didn’t mean he didn’t worry. He always did: he was a parent, that was what he was supposed to do. His child was facing a huge milestone in her life. Jaskier was filled with fear, hope, and a tremendous amount of pride at the same time. He was just overflowing with emotions, and they manifested in constant weeping, apparently.

He decided to try and shut off the waterworks at least while they introduced themselves to the seller. She was a cheerful middle-aged lady named Kate, who heartily congratulated Amaryllis on her upcoming marriage, then she gave a sympathetic hug to Jaskier as well.

“It’s a huge thing, one of the biggest days in our lives,” Kate chirped as she led them further inside the saloon. “Therefore, it has to be perfect. Any ideas on your dream dress, dear?”

“Not sure,” Amaryllis admitted. She still held onto Jaskier’s hand as she looked over the numerous racks and shelves. “My fiancée will have a strapless dress, and it would be nice to match with her, but I think sleeves are more my style?”

“You should pick whatever you’d feel comfortable in,” Jaskier reminded her softly. “You will look beautiful in everything, anyway.”

Amaryllis gave him a bright smile and a squeeze to his hand before she followed Kate into the jungle of dresses. Jaskier raked his eyes around with a sigh. Fluffy dresses and sleek suits hanged everywhere from floor to ceiling, in every shape and every size. They all looked so pretty. Jaskier’s chest tightened for a second before he decided to look away and check on his daughter instead.

Amaryllis was an absolute dream to shop with. Instead of turning into the stereotypical “bridezilla”, she was calm and collected, listening intently to everything Kate told her. Jaskier was immensely proud of her. He also knew that if he were in this situation, he would probably break down five minutes in.

While Amaryllis disappeared inside the fitting room to try on a couple dresses, Kate approached Jaskier with a smile.

“Beautiful girl,” she told him earnestly. Jaskier grinned, proudly puffing his chest out.

“Thank you.”

“Yours, right? I can tell by the eyes. Same set of beautiful baby blues.”

“Ah, you’re so kind. Yes, she’s my daughter.”

“Are you planning a big wedding?”

“Not that big. More people on her fiancée’s side.”

Saying that out loud tasted bitter on Jaskier’s tongue. He wished he could give his daughter an epic ceremony, but unfortunately, he wasn’t on good terms with his family. His parents divorced while he was still a child, and he has only rarely seen his father after that. He’s always had a stormy relationship with his mother as well. She was a very strict, traditional woman, whose pride was greatly hurt when her husband left her. That was probably why she got so angry when Jaskier told her at the ripe age of twenty-one that he has gotten pregnant and had no clue from who. She wanted Jaskier to fulfill that idyllic family picture that she did not manage, and seeing her own child fail at it, too, caused her to cut ties with him. The only relative that Jaskier could count on was his aunt, the only person who has supported him after he ended up alone, pregnant, and scared out of his mind. Her death devastated Jaskier, especially because she didn’t get to see Amaryllis’s birth. She has left his beloved nephew a lovely gift, though, the Dandelion Inn. Jaskier has spent most of his childhood on the small island his aunt lived at, and he really enjoyed staying over at the Inn, even when he was an adult. It was a friendly, warm little motel that felt more like his home than his actual house. He has also met his two best friends there, who have helped him through many hardships.

Jaskier now lived on the island with his daughter and managed the Dandelion Inn. It was idyllic in many ways, and not very idyllic in other ways. Jaskier knew that an unbonded, mate-less Omega would always be the hot topic of every gossip, especially one that got pregnant so young. He has gotten better at handling the acidic insults, but he wished he could have protected his daughter against them, and he wished he could have provided her with the big, happy family that she deserved.

He quickly waved away the sad memories as Amaryllis exited the fitting room. Jaskier gasped and clutched a hand over his heart, willing himself not to tear up again. As expected, Amaryllis looked beautiful in her mermaid- style dress. Her smile shone brighter than the gemstones on the hem when she twirled around.

“My God, you look beautiful,” Jaskier whispered in awe. Amaryllis ducked her head with a shy grin.

“I like it. I think I’m gonna try the high-low dress, too.”

She tried on four more dresses, and Jaskier told her she looked gorgeous in every single one of them. Amaryllis groaned as she plopped down next to him on a pouf.

“You always say I look beautiful in everything, Papa.”

“But that’s the truth! No matter what you’ll pick, you’ll be the most beautiful bride.”

Kate disappeared to find some accessories to go with the dresses. Amaryllis waited until she was out of sight, then she turned to Jaskier with a look that indicated she was about to say or ask something potentially uncomfortable. Jaskier knew that look too well. It was the same, head ducked down, nose twitching, jaw slightly wobbling face she gave him when she told him she accidentally broke his acoustic guitar, and when she presented as an Omega and had to ask her father about the birds and the bees. Jaskier braced himself with a sigh, and a free cupcake that he retrieved from the tray next to him.

“I was thinking about checking out the suits, too,” Amaryllis started, choosing her words obviously carefully. “But then I was like, I’d rather have a dress. It’s traditional, and I know we’re both free spirits, but I think I’d like a really traditional wedding, you know? An Omega girl in a big fluffy dress, her Omega father weeping into his tissue in the front row…”

“Hey, I won’t cry in the front row,” Jaskier objected with a huff, “I’ll cry while walking you down the aisle.”

Amaryllis cleared her throat. She fiddled with the tulle on her dress. The clock on the wall ticked loudly in the silence. Jaskier didn’t even dare to breathe.

“What’s wrong, honey?” He asked, scooting closer to her on the pouf. “I feel like you’re trying to tell me something.”

“Well,” Amaryllis squeaked, avoiding Jaskier’s eyes, “iwantmyotherparenttowalkmedowntheaisle.”

Jaskier blinked in utter confusion. Amaryllis turned an alarmingly bright red, which was only accentuated by her snow-white dress.

“What… what was that?”

“Papa.”

“You said it so fast I couldn’t make out a single word!”

“God,” Amaryllis sighed, grinding her teeth in embarrassment, “don’t be angry! Just… I… I said that I want my other father, or mother, I don’t know? To… to walk me down the aisle… you know, all traditional…”

Jaskier was very glad he was already sitting, otherwise he would have probably collapsed on the floor. He waited for Amaryllis to reveal it was just a joke. For several, uncomfortable moments, Amaryllis stared at Jaskier, chewing on her lip. Jaskier stared right back, his brain drawing a complete blank page.

“Honey…” Jaskier squeaked out, “you know exactly I don’t know who that is.”

“But, maybe there’s a chance we could find them?” Amaryllis asked hopefully. “I was thinking a lot about this, lately. I would be really happy if we managed to find out who it is, so they could be there, too. I don’t know… maybe you still have some phone numbers? A hunch? Anything? It’s just… it would be nice.”

Jaskier let out a deep sigh. It’s been literal years since Amaryllis has brought up this subject. With each passing year, as she has gotten older, it has gotten easier to explain: it was the worst when she was still a little child, not understanding why everyone had two parents while she only had her Papa. It was even worse with her overhearing all those nasty gossips about how Jaskier was such a lowlife Omega, sleeping with everyone and having bastard children. When she was a little older, Jaskier could give her a vague explanation on how her other parent left, and how they were unfortunately not coming back. Amaryllis was already a teenager when Jaskier eventually revealed the truth that he had absolutely no idea who the other parent was. He didn’t give her all the details about how he was definitely enjoying his youth. He was a pretty hedonistic young Omega who gladly shared his heats and non-heats with many, many… many people. He didn’t tell her about his short-lived, heartbreaking romances and everlasting loves that only lasted for about a week. She was a smart child, she managed to put the pieces together anyway.

So, Amaryllis stopped pushing for an answer a long time ago, accepting the explanation that Jaskier didn’t know. It felt like a bucket of icy water was poured straight over his head when she, twenty years old and ready to get married, brought this up again.

“Look,” Jaskier told her softly, reaching for her hand, “I know this is going to be your big day, and trust me, I would give my left arm to make sure everything could go exactly as you wanted, including a full set of parents if that’s what would make you happy, but unfortunately… I can’t give you that. I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” Amaryllis squeezed his hand gently, “I didn’t say that to make you feel guilty. This isn’t your fault. I just… I guess I reminisced a little, and I daydreamed a little, and… when I imagine my big day… I see someone else there. With you.”

“Well,” Jaskier forced a grin onto his face, deciding to hide the sudden pain that flared up inside him with humor, like so many times before- the only way he managed to survive the heartbreak, the loneliness and the hopelessness he has felt through his life. That was the only way he could get through the pregnancy alone, that he could get through raising a child alone. The only way he could protect Amaryllis from feeling that pain.

“It seems like you’ll have to make do with your old, single father.”

“You’re not old,” Amaryllis reminded him with a laugh. “You had me when you were about my age. You’re still rockin’ and you’re still smokin’.”

“Such flattery. I assume the dress you want is really expensive, then?”

Amaryllis laughed and gave him a tight hug. Jaskier hid his face in her neck so she couldn’t see the way his smile faded.

Kate returned with the accessories amidst many apologies for going away for so long. She took Amaryllis with her again to try the jewelry with the dress so they could settle for the best option. There was an uncomfortable, churning sensation inside Jaskier’s stomach when he was left alone.

The last thing he expected was this. The idea that Amaryllis has been thinking about this again, that she might have felt sad over not having her other parent there shattered Jaskier. He never wanted to see his daughter sad, especially because of him. And sure, Amaryllis assured him it wasn’t his fault, but it kinda was, wasn’t it? If he wasn’t such a slut, sleeping with everyone who caught his fancy, this wouldn’t have happened. He could have committed to an actual relationship, bonded with a nice Alpha or Beta or maybe even another Omega, could have gotten married, and now Amaryllis would have a beautiful wedding with all her family there, because if Jaskier did that, his mother wouldn’t have disowned him, either. All he had to offer his daughter was his stupid self, a tiny inn, and a herd of goats that he also inherited from his aunt.

He looked into the golden-framed mirror on the wall and sighed at his reflection. He looked younger than his age, something he was very proud of, but when he looked closer, into his own eyes, he’s seen the burden of leaving his careless youth behind.

He spotted a veil on the hanger by the mirror. The ache in his chest amplified. He turned around, quickly checking that no one saw him, then he took the veil off the hanger. He turned it around in his hand, running his fingers over the thin lace. It felt heavy like lead as he put it on his head and checked his reflection again.

You could have had this, a voice inside his head that sounded suspiciously like his mother reminded him, if you weren’t such a loose, immoral Omega.

Jaskier cursed and took the veil off, putting it back on the hanger as quickly as he managed. No, he would not let his guilt consume him. He needed to be strong for his daughter. This was about Amaryllis and her beautiful future, not about him and his tragic past.

Jaskier could only hope Amaryllis would forget about her mysterious other parent.

#geraskier #yennskier #radskier #a/b/o #jaskier #geralt of rivia #yennefer of vengerberg #radovid #omega jaskier #alpha geralt #alpha yennefer #beta radovid #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher fic #my fic #mamma mia au

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jaskierswolf · 3 years

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Hello darling! I am a greedy greedy panda and I beg for some hug prompt goodies! How about some geraskier and 38. bridal style hug, because we deserve some good things? <3<3 love you!

Wonderful greedy panda! (If anyone is wondering Panda sent me 36 prompts in two hours 😂)

Geraskier featuring demi-romantic Jask, past yenralt, and buffskier!

________

At the age of twenty-one Jaskier had sworn that he would never get married. He’d gone through both college and university with little more than a passing fancy for any of his peers. Sure, he’d had a few one night stands, and the occasional friend that he’d fool around with when they both had a long dry spell, but love? That just hadn’t been on the cards for him. Jaskier had watched with dismay as Geralt and Yennefer had fallen in and out of love on a near weekly basis, and he had been the one to hold Geralt in his arms after every breakup. It hurt to see his best friend in so much pain, but it had been okay. Jaskier knew that he would always be there for Geralt, through thick and thin, for better or for worse.

Perhaps that was why he’d never really noticed that he’d fallen in love?

They’d been best friends for so long, and Jaskier truly did love him, but he’d always thought it had been platonic.

Until one day, crying and drunk, Geralt had kissed him.

And Jaskier’s heart had started doing that weird fluttery thing that everyone always spoke about. That night he’d tucked Geralt into bed with a smile on his face that just wouldn’t fade, but he didn’t really think anymore about it, not until he was driving to work the next day and a cringey love song had come on the radio. Normally, Jaskier would think about his favourite fictional characters when he heard romantic songs, but not that day.

No, he’d thought about Geralt.

It had completely blind-sighted him and he’d nearly crashed the car.

Work that day had been the worst kind of torture. Every waking thought was of Geralt, and that strange unfamiliar feeling in his heart. Jaskier’s chest had actually ached. Honestly he’d figured that was some stupid metaphor but holy mother of fuck, it hurt. A million thoughts had flown through his head, what if he were just a rebound? What if it were just a one night stand?

That night he’d driven to Geralt instead of his house, and the rest, as they say, was history. Dating his best friend had some perks, they’d pretty much skipped the awkward getting to know you dating stage, and honestly their routine hadn’t changed that much at all. There was just more kissing, and less broken-hearted Geralt post-breakup days.

And now they were married.

Jaskier was truly the luckiest of men. How many people could say they got to marry their best friend and the love of their life?

Well, he supposed Geralt could say the same.

“Wait!” Geralt gripped Jaskier’s arm as he went to enter the same house that they’d been living in for four years now.

Jaskier rolled his eyes and turned to his husband. “Yes, dear?”

“It’s tradition!” Geralt pouted, golden eyes wide and pleading.

Ah yes, tradition. Jaskier smirked and tilted his head, one hand on his hips. He knew exactly what Geralt was asking; his big, strong, loving husband wanted to carry him across the threshold.

But please, let it be known that Jaskier Pankratz was a little shit.

Before Geralt could protest, Jaskier scooped his husband into his arms in a rare display of strength, kicking the door open.

“Wait, fuck no!” Geralt grumbled, blushing furiously as he buried his face into Jaskier’s neck.

“Oh, but dear heart, it’s tradition.”

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier pankratz #wolfie’s witcher writing

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comfyswitcherblanketfort · 4 years

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I have a geraskier prompt I am laying on your altar as an offering: Geralt catches Jaskier staring at him when he ‚wakes up‘ from meditation and falsely assumes the bard is interested to learn meditation (Jaskier was just staring at him longingly). Jaskier tries but is very bad at emptying his mind/concentrating on himself,maybe asks Geralt to hold his hand? Feel free to change anything or ignore ☺️

oh. my. god. BABE. this prompt brings me life. also I am unworthy of an alter but if i must have one let it be covered in vining plants

This started out at a nice simmering level of horny and got emotional at the drop of a hat and idk what happened but I hope you like it! 💖💖

__________

Fuck he's beautiful. It’s really not fair that he does this without a shirt. Yes, it’s hot, but I’m going to melt. What I wouldn’t give to melt into his arms and run my hands through that chest hair.

Jaskier nearly jumped out of his skin when one of Geralt’s eyes cracked open. They were eye level, Geralt kneeling on the floor, supposedly deep in meditation, while Jaskier took the opportunity to lay on the bed and ogle.

Shit, I didn’t say that out loud did I?

“You’re staring.”

Jaskier rolled over onto his back, silently thanking the gods he hadn’t actually said what he was thinking for once, “I just don’t know how you can sit still for so long.”

Geralt hummed, closing his eyes once again, “It’s more than just holding still.”

“Yes, yes.” Jaskier lowered his voice and knit his brows together to mimic Geralt, “Clear your mind, think of nothing, breathe deep and steady.”

The short hum he got in response almost sounded amused.

Jaskier rolled to sit cross-legged at the end of the bed nearest Geralt, this time watching with his head tilted to the side and a little wrinkle between his brows.

A moment later Geralt peeked once again and Jaskier looked down at his hands, blushing.

“Do you want to try? Since you’re so interested?”

Oh, darling if only you knew what I was interested in.

“Didn’t you say last time that I was an ‘impossible fidget’ who ‘wouldn’t sit still if my life depended on it’?” Jaskier grinned despite the memory of one of their larger fights over the years.

“That was almost ten years ago Jaskier…”

“I’m not mad, I’m teasing,” he promised as he slid off the bed and onto the floor in front of Geralt, “Do I need to sit like you?”

Geralt grinned, “No, just get comfortable so you can relax.”

Jaskier settled cross-legged once again, wiggling till he thought he was comfortable enough, “Wouldn’t this be easier lying on a bed?”

Geralt closed his eyes again, rolling his shoulders and making Jaskier bite his bottom lip, “The point isn’t to sleep.”

Jaskier took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he slowly exhaled and did his best to forget about Geralt’s shoulders. After a few moments, his fingers were twitching so he clenched them into fists, then he automatically cracked his ankle when the urge hit him and he sighed in defeat.

“Sit like I do.” Geralt’s voice was lower than before, almost fond and Jaskier was inclined to do absolutely anything that voice ordered. Not without a fuss of course.

“I thought you said it didn’t matter.”

“It takes more focus to keep balanced on your knees. You need a little extra distraction.”

Jaskier huffed but obeyed, keeping his eyes closed, ever the enthusiastic student. Their knees touched in the small floor space allowed in their room and the slight brush of fabric really shouldn’t have him sweating like it did.

Geralt shifted a bit and nearly whispered further instructions, “Palms up on your lap... Count your breaths so your exhales are longer than your inhales... Try not to jump from thought to thought. Just let them drift by... Relax...”

The heat was becoming unbearable and Jaskier wasn’t sure if it was just the temperature or Geralt murmuring so softly. He could absolutely clear his mind for that voice. If Geralt kept talking he would be putty in his hands, completely devoid of original thought and lost in the baritone and gravel.

However, he didn’t keep talking.

Jaskier did his best to measure his breaths, something he should have no trouble with given his training, but any time he twitched his knee brushed Geralt’s and he had to fight off a squeaking gasp. When Geralt took a deep cleansing breath he felt the exhale on his palms and nearly shivered at the sensation. He fluttered his fingers open and closed to stave off the odd tingling he felt behind his breastbone and nose.

Everything was suddenly overwhelming; the closeness, the little movements, the way he felt like he was floating above the floor. Somewhere in there was a pang of overwhelming sadness, something he had buried deep down long ago and forgotten the source of. He squeezed his eyes shut and grit his teeth against it, letting a shaky breath out in an effort to keep it together.

A shock ran up Jaskier’s arms when Geralt gently took his hands. Jaskier’s eyes flew open and he was mortified that a few tears escaped in his surprise.

“Don’t worry, that’s normal.” Geralt ran his thumbs over the knuckles of his fingers and looked at him with a gentle concern that was even more overwhelming.

“T-to cry?” Jaskier was embarrassed by the tightness in his voice, “You never cry.”

Geralt nodded, “I did at first. We all did.”

Jaskier sniffed, tilting his head and giving him his best unbelieving expression, a good mimic of Geralt’s usual mug.

“When you slow down and give it time, your body sometimes tries to help you process things. Some people laugh, some cry, some just sit in silence.”

Jaskier gripped Geralt’s hands a little tighter, letting out an embarrassed, watery laugh, “I don’t even know what I’m sad about.”

Geralt gave him the softest hint of a smile, “Glad it’s not me.”

Jaskier snorted.

“Do you want to stop?” Geralt’s face was solemn as he shifted closer, their knees now firmly pressed together.

“No,” Jaskier shook his head, closing his eyes and breathing deeply again. Tears or no tears this was the safest and most loved he’d felt in ages, possibly his life, “Just... don’t let go?” He didn’t know how he managed to get the words out, nervous as he was.

Geralt gave his hands a light squeeze and whispered, “I’m right here.”

#this happened to me the first couple times they had us meditate in acting school #I deadass cried for our whole two hour class #lmao #i didn't have any repressed emotional trauma or anything what are you talking about?#geraskier #the witcher #geralt of rivia #jaskier #geralt meditating #the witcher fic #geraskier fic #geraskier drabble #geralt of rivia fic #geralt of rivia drabble

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lesdemonium · 4 years

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romtober day 31: love confession with an audience

Rating: T Ship: Geraskier Word Count: 2282 Summary: A tale of two hand-fasting ceremonies. One for Jaskier and Geralt, and one for everyone else.

AN: i just want to thank everyone who has read any of these fics! thank you for reading, thank you for your kudos, your comments, your reblogs, your everything. this was honestly exhausting and i don't think i'll ever do it again, but i don't think i've ever been so satisfied to finish a challenge before (maybe because i don't often finish challenges.... y'all are improving my work ethic by leaps and bounds let me TELL YOU).

this is technically a continuation of the bet but it also is easily a stand alone piece. reading the bet really just gives you maybe slightly more context for how dumb they are.

i'm gonna go take a quick nap before i start working on nano & gift exchange fics lmao.

read on ao3

Normally, Jaskier loved a party. He would take any excuse to dress up in all his finery, maybe play for his audience, and revel in the attention others bestowed upon him. And a party entirely about him? All the better. Jaskier was not ashamed to admit that he loved when others lavished attention on him, and he did not consider it a failing on his part. Who didn’t want to be noticed? Jaskier loved to be loved.

Geralt, however, did not. He was uncomfortable and prickly and often looked as if he wanted to be struck down by some force of nature right then and there. He could get by at a party if allowed to fade into the background and enjoy the food and wine, but being the center of attention was abhorrent to him. Jaskier didn’t blame him. So often, for Geralt, being the center of attention meant flattering idiot lords or treated as if he was an animal there for amusement. No, Geralt did not like parties.

A wedding for them, therefore, was not what either one of them particularly wanted. Geralt because he would be subject to scrutiny, and Jaskier because he wanted their wedding to be a happy memory for Geralt. Unfortunately, decorum demanded to be upheld.

They were traveling. Jaskier wasn’t sure where they were, but it didn’t much matter. On the Path, forward seemed to be the only direction. They had just dispatched some monsters in some middle of nowhere town, and now they were about a two day’s ride from anywhere of note.

Jaskier could see the way Geralt’s shoulders relaxed. For a moment, Jaskier longed to touch him, then remembered with a start that he could, that he had permission now. He wrapped his arms under Geralt’s, pulling him into a hug, and pressed his face into Geralt’s shoulder blade. Geralt turned to press a kiss to the top of Jaskier’s head. They stood there for a moment in their embrace, before Geralt disentangled himself to instead clasp Jaskier’s hand.

They continued on, nothing but them and Roach and the road for miles. The weather was beautiful, sunny and warm, and they were surrounded by wildflowers.

It did not take long, upon returning to Lettenhove, for Jaskier’s family to turn horrible. At first, they were restrained, and bestowed compliments upon the couple. Jaskier could see the fire burning behind their eyes. Their son? Marrying a Witcher? It was unheard of, unspeakable, surely it could not be so! And yet, here they were, and Jaskier showed no signs of letting up on what they were certain was a sick joke.

Jaskier stayed on guard at their polite, if terse, comments and questions about their travels. He was powerless to stop it once they really started in, though. He had prepared Geralt for this, but it still hurt to watch.

“But surely you won’t continue on your travels now that you’re married!”

“What sort of life is that for a Viscount? Really, Julian, we must ask you to reconsider. Stay in Lettenhove! We have a nice little estate you could take over…”

“You’ve killed people, haven’t you? That’s how you got the title of Butcher.”

“Don’t you find the bard thing a tad… overplayed? Really, that’s all well and good for young men with no other prospects. Haven’t you outgrown all that yet?”

“I mean no offense, Geralt, you seem lovely. But Julian, really. There are plenty of fine lords and ladies who would line up to be your partner! And far more agreeable!”

Jaskier cut off what he could, all the while holding Geralt’s hand and giving him tight-lipped smiles of what he hoped were reassurances. By the end, he was exhausted, and fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. Geralt insisted he was fine. Jaskier spent the next morning recounting all the ways and reasons he loved Geralt, and loved their life together, anyway. Slowly, the tightness around Geralt’s eyes loosened.

They avoided Jaskier’s family as best they could.

They stopped for lunch. Jaskier insisted they take their lunch to the wildflowers, and Geralt relented with an eyeroll and a fond smile. They ate in companionable silence as Jaskier leaned against Geralt. Overcome in the peacefulness of the moment, Geralt laid back in the flowers once he had finished eating. He dragged Jaskier down with him and Jaskier settled against his chest.

Geralt played with Jaskier’s hair and Jaskier fiddled aimlessly with Geralt’s shirt. They watched the clouds and Jaskier called out the shapes and figures he saw, while Geralt snorted unless he was particularly inspired to disagree with Jaskier.

“I love you,” Jaskier said, turning in Geralt’s arms to meet his eyes. He rested his forearms on Geralt’s chest, planted himself there, almost as if he expected Geralt to argue with him. It wasn’t the first time he had said the words aloud, but it felt different this time, somehow. “I love you more than I love being alive.”

Geralt snorted. “That’s not particularly romantic. I’ve already told you not to say you would die for me. This isn’t a far cry from that.”

Jaskier shook his head. He didn’t want a lecture about how reckless he was, not now (not ever, really). Instead, he wanted Geralt to see how serious he was. How mind-numbingly happy Geralt made him.

“I would live for you,” Jaskier said instead. “Sure, I would die for you, too. But I’d much rather live for you.”

Geralt was quiet for a long moment before he drew Jaskier in for a kiss. “Much better,” he said with a grin, and Jaskier laughed. “I would live for you, too.”

Geralt looked out of place in his wedding attire. Jaskier thought he looked wonderful, covered in jewels and finery and bright blues. He did not, however, look much like he was comfortable. Geralt had little say in what he wore today, as Jaskier’s sisters had managed most of the preparations. They liked pretty, gaudy things, far more than even Jaskier did. As such, they had bedecked Geralt in an outfit that would have looked opulent on anyone else, but only looked suffocating on Geralt.

“I’d ask how eager you were to take that off, but as I’m sure your next step will be to burn your clothes rather than ravish me, I’d rather not know. Let me keep my narcissism,” Jaskier whispered to Geralt just before the ceremony.

For what it was worth, Geralt’s smile was genuine. The moment he turned to the hall they were about to have their handfasting ceremony in, however, his face grew tight.

“I love you,” Jaskier reminded him, taking Geralt’s hand and pressing a kiss to his knuckles. Curious. Jaskier had seen rings with the garment originally. Now not a single one graced the hand of his witcher.

“I love you,” Geralt repeated.

He stroked his fingers along Jaskier’s cheekbone, stealing just another moment, before he offered his arm for Jaskier to take. It was time. There was plenty to be nervous about, but Jaskier wasn’t. This was simply a formality.

“Marry me,” Jaskier said. He pressed a kiss to Geralt’s jaw to avoid his eye.

“Jaskier?” Geralt asked, taking Jaskier’s chin in his fingers and pulling him back up. It figured he wouldn’t let Jaskier hide. It was rude, though.

“Marry me,” Jaskier repeated, this time more firmly, and without wavering in his attention at all. A breath flew audibly out of Geralt’s nose. “I want you for all of my days, Geralt of Rivia, and then some. Marry me. Marry me. Marry me.”

Geralt’s fingers carded through Jaskier’s hair. Once, twice, three times, before Geralt pulled him back in for another kiss. Jaskier’s heart pounded away in his chest, so loudly he knew Geralt could hear it, too. He smoothed his hand over Geralt’s chest, and imagined that he could feel Geralt’s heart. He imagined it was beating faster, too.

“Yes,” Geralt answered against Jaskier’s lips.

The ceremony was long and arduous. Somehow, it felt more like a business transaction, rather than the joining of two hearts. Jaskier went through the motions distantly, and would have felt guilty over it, if he didn’t know Geralt was doing the same thing.

Jaskier found he did not miss this. He did not miss being home, no matter how grand the rooms were, or how for the first time in ages he woke up without aches in his back. The food was delicious and hot every time, and he didn’t have to sing for enough coin to pay for it. For the first time in a long time, Jaskier was comfortable. He was not, however, happy. The Path called to him just as loudly as it called to Geralt, and he found himself comparing the grand estate his parents owned to the decrepit Kaer Morhen. Jaskier knew which one he considered home now, no matter how cold it was at night.

If he had never left, would he have been happy here? Would he have found romance in the words the officiant said? Would he have some pretty lady’s hand in his own, her head full of the same silly things that had always been in Jaskier’s?

Jaskier glanced at Geralt, and found him peeking back. They shared a small, secret smile, and Jaskier squeezed Geralt’s hand. Geralt squeezed back. No, he thought, decidedly. I would have been complacent. I never would have known there was more out there. He never would have found love, as he had with Geralt.

“Geralt,” Jaskier said, stopping dead in his tracks. “Geralt, where are we?”

Geralt turned and eyed Jaskier curiously. He shrugged his shoulders. “About a two days ride from Carrera,” he answered.

Jaskier stared at him, then from the field of wildflowers around them. It had been two years since he had asked Geralt to marry him. Almost exactly two years. And here, they were, in the very same field as that day. The wildflowers were just as bright, just as beautiful, stretching as far as the eye could see. It was cloudier, today, and therefore a little darker. But still beautiful. Still perfect.

“Geralt, marry me,” Jaskier said.

Geralt raised an eyebrow. “Jaskier, I already agreed to--”

“No, no,” Jaskier interrupted, waving dismissively at him. “Marry me now, Geralt. Here. Right now.”

It was a suggestion borne out of desperation. Jaskier had to send word to his family that he and Geralt were intending to marry, and they had insisted Geralt and Jaskier come to Lettenhove for the handfasting ceremony. It was going to be beautiful, resplendent, even. His entire family would be there, even the other witchers were invited. Jaskier had already implored them not to. It wasn’t a royal wedding, not by any means, but it was a noble wedding. It was going to be terrible.

But this. Right here, right now. This could be for them.

“Isn’t that what we’re going to Lettenhove for?” Geralt asked, confused. He crossed his arms.

Jaskier nodded. “We’ll hate it. It will be everything my family wants. It will be loud and long and proper and official. It won’t be about us at all.” He gestured broadly at the field. “But this. This could be our real story. This could be our real memory, to help us… survive Lettenhove and the duty there.” He stepped up to Geralt and took Geralt’s face in hand. “I would have you here, Geralt. As you are. As mine.”

Geralt searched his eyes for a moment, then nodded.

Their hands were bound together. They proclaimed their love in front of a large, almost entirely captive audience. When the ceremony was completed, they were presented to the world together, and their audience applauded.

For the rest of the night, they fielded questions, comments both supportive and snide. They were prevailed upon to make speeches and dance and thank people they had never met before. Geralt insisted over and over, to everyone, that he loved Jaskier, and each time he sounded as if he meant it, and Jaskier squeezed his hand. Jaskier insisted the same back, and went on one tirade so long that word passed not to question Jaskier on the matter again.

They found a ribbon in Roach’s saddlebag. They didn’t quite remember the words, the vows that were supposed to be made over their hands, but they made up their own. Tying their own hands wasn’t easy, but they did it together.

No one saw their ceremony aside from Roach. They interrupted each other, over and over, to laugh and kiss and declare their love. They set up their camp right there, and made love under the stars in the flowers. Jaskier didn’t think he had ever been this happy. He had a feeling he would be this happy for the rest of his life.

“I love you forever,” Jaskier whispered into Geralt’s hair, as Geralt rested his head on Jaskier’s shoulder.

“Forever,” Geralt echoed, and pressed a kiss just over Jaskier’s heart.

The evening was finally, finally winding down. Jaskier’s hand found Geralt’s as the guests began to bid them goodnight and a happy future. Some of them even meant it. Some of them were drunk enough to have some sincerity. Most were never going to welcome them, and that was fine by Jaskier.

He turned to look at Geralt, only to find him already staring. Their smiles matched and they shifted closer. They had survived. This night would soon only be a night. It would never be their wedding night.

“I love you forever,” Geralt whispered, leaning forward to say it into Jaskier’s ear and brush a kiss along the shell.

“Forever,” Jaskier echoed.

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #geraskier fic #geraskier fluff #my writing #romtober

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mordoriscalling · 4 years

Text

Stay or Sail Away (1/6)

Here comes part one the modern AU fake dating Geraskier fic that I talked about in this post. I’d like to post each part daily. Tagging @geraskier-trashh as requested! :D

***

It’s not that Jaskier has any problem finding someone, thank you very much. It’s just that he’s busy. Busy with concerts and composing, meeting fans at various events, travelling, internet dramas involving Valdo (it’s always fucking Valdo). There’s no time for a relationship, only for occasional one night stands that sometimes that leave him heartbroken because he actually manages to fall in love with someone in the span of a few hours. It’s fine, though. Heartbreak inspires him like little else.

Jaskier's never complained about lack of bed partners, when he seeks them out. He’s charming, after all. Still, the moment he hears “commitment”, he flees. It’s just not his way. Or perhaps he’s never found anyone fascinating enough to commit to; it takes a lot to keep his attention. He wasn’t even looking for someone like that. Not until recently.

His troubles began a week ago, during a phone call with his mum. She reminded him of his father’s 65th birthday party and asked if he would bring anyone with him. This was followed by a series of questions about his love life because, as his mum put it, “you’re 35, Julian darling, and you’re always working so hard! I worry you’ll end up alone”. In order to placate her, Jaskier might’ve lied a little tiny bit about some things. As a result, because of all the twists and turns of the conversation, he made his mother believe he had a fiancé.

A fucking fiancé.

Wanda Pankratz was ecstatic, wishing to know everything about her son’s relationship, but he dodged all the further questions by saying that she would meet his love soon enough. She left it at that but, of course, told half the family about it, if the texts and calls from his sisters and aunts were anything to go by.

Hence, The Post.

It’s a bit pathetic and desperate, Jaskier can freely admit, but he has no other choice. His personal guard Zoltan almost pissed himself laughing when Jaskier asked him to pretend to be his fiancé, and not one of his friends knows anyone who would want to do this. Not even his agent Triss could help him out.

It all drove Jaskier to log on his anonymous Facebook account (he is a pretty big name in the UK; better be safe than sorry) and post in one of the big London groups.

“I need urgent help from someone who’d be willing to act as my fiancé during a family party on February the 24th. The only thing I expect is the ability to sing praises of our love and to compliment my aunts. It’ll take around 4 hours and then we end our relationship. Age from 35 to 40. It’d be great if you knew something about the sea because I intend to introduce you as a sailor who’s never home and afterwards, you die. Can anybody help?”

Since yesterday, the post has got more than a thousand reactions (mostly the laughing one and likes) and hundreds of comments. Many people tagged their friends as a joke, which is not helpful, but Jaskier still scrolls down and down, trying not to let his hope die. Nobody seems to think his request is for real and he’s received no serious offers so far. Then, one of the newest comment threads catches his attention.

Lambert Rivia: Geralt Rivia Destiny!

Geralt Rivia Fuck off

Yennefer Vengeberg Omg 😂 Cirilla Vengeberg-Rivia Eskel Rivia you must see this!

Cirilla Vengeberg-Rivia Yesssss!! This is perfect! ❤️

Eskel Rvia Do it Geralt

Geralt Rivia No.

Intrigued, Jaskier decides to check out these people’s profiles. Lambert Rivia is a handsome red-haired man who wears some kind of black military suit in his profile picture. Looking at his bio, Jaskier already knows why Lambert didn’t volunteer himself – he’s in a relationship. Eskel Rivia is blond, even more handsome than Lambert despite facial scars, and also has a photo in a black suit, together with a white cap on his head. There’s no information on Eskel’s relationship status and Jaskier is intrigued indeed. Yennefer Vengeberg is a terrifyingly beautiful woman who, judging how professional her profile picture appears, must work in some serious profession. Cirilla Vengerberg-Rivia is a lovely teenage girl with white-blond hair. Jaskier reckons she’s the daughter of Yennefer and one of the Rivia guys.

He left the poor Geralt’s profile as the last to look at, but now that Jaskier has seen the rest, he checks this one too.

His jaw fucking drops.

Geralt Rivia is a ridiculously handsome man. His face seems practically unreal because, surely, people as beautiful as Geralt don’t actually exist? The man’s long white hair (which makes no sense considering his apparent age), as well as his brown-almost-golden eyes, only add to his otherwordly, stunning appearance. Double stunning in that black military suit he’s wearing in his profile picture, just like Lambert and Eskel. The suit looks familiar and Jaskier has a nagging feeling he really should know what kind of army it is. Google helps him out and he quickly puts two to two – Geralt, Eskel and Lambert serve for the Royal Navy.

He bursts out laughing.

This is too good.

He wonders what he should to about this. Now that he knows about Geralt’s existence, he can’t really miss the chance of meeting him, however slim. His gut feeling tells him not to let the opportunity slip and well, who is Jaskier not to listen?

When he’s in the middle of debating what to write to the man, his phone pings. There’s a new messenger notification... with Geralt’s name. With a racing heart, Jaskier opens the message.

FEB THE 18TH AT 06:14 PM Hey. Everyone’s telling me to message you and won’t leave me alone. Is your request for real? Please say no

Jaskier chuckles and replies:

Hi! I’m sorry they’re bothering you and I’m also sorry to say that my request is very much for real. I’d be forever grateful if you helped me 😁

To this, Geralt responds with:

They really won’t stop until I agree They think it’s so fucking funny

Jaskier purses his lips, already suspecting this isn’t likely to work out. He'll have to face his loving mum and admit that he lied to her about fucking having a fiancé. She’s going to be so disappointed. At the very prospect, bad mood overtakes him, but he still types what he hopes to be a cheerful answer.

Damn, so sorry mate I won’t push you but, again, I’d totally owe you one if you agree ☺️

What would I get?

Jaskier tries to reason with his hope to calm the fuck down and replies:

Money, or a favour of some sort, I have many connections Could be free tickets to my concerts Even my company for the night 😏 Just whatever you want I really need help

Fuck

For a minute or two, the three dots next to Geralt’s photo disappear, and Jaskier’s hope plummets in a dramatic fashion. Then, more messages from Geralt show up in the chat.

Free tickets seem fine My daughter loves going to concerts She’d like free tickets but I never heard of you

Jaskier starts begging any god out there that Cirilla is Geralt’s daughter. Teenagers make up a large part of his audience (which is great, actually; teenage kids are amazing these days). If she’s a fan, the free tickets are a major bargaining chip.

Well, Julian AP isn’t my stage name I don’t use it on fb

What is it? Your stage name

I’d rather not say here And you must promise me you won’t tell anyone about it too Well, anyone but your daughter

Can you call me? It’s better to talk about this on the phone anyway

Fine.

Jaskier sends Geralt his number and waits for the call. In other circumstances, he’d congratulate himself on getting a man like that to call him so easily, but he’s too anxious. His hands itch for his guitar but he doesn’t get up from his bed. He begins smoothing his hair out with his palms, praying in his mind that Geralt hasn’t changed his mind.

After the agonizing wait of six minutes, there’s an incoming call. Jaskier takes a deep breath and picks up.

“Hello,” says a gravelly baritone voice so pleasant that it sends shivers down Jaskier’s spine.

“Uhm, h-hi, Geralt,” he replies a bit breathlessly, “so, my name’s Julian Alfred Pankratz but I’m known to many as Jaskier.”

There’s a beat of silence. “Jaskier?” Geralt repeats, “the one who sings Her Sweet Kiss?”

Jaskier beams, his chest swelling with pride. “The very same.”

“Fuck,” Geralt growls, “Ciri wants to blast this song whenever we drive somewhere.”

Jaskier laughs. “She would love free tickets to my concerts, wouldn’t she?”

“Yeah.”

Geralt says no more. Jaskier has to swallow down to sop his throat from constricting. “So?” he asks, “Can you do this for me?”

The silence on the other side is deafening and Jaskier doesn’t even breathe until Geralt finally speaks up. “Fine,” he grunts, his tone indicating it’s anything but fine.

Air leaves Jaskier’s lungs in a whoosh, replaced by a flood of such sheer relief that he may as well cry. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” he babbles, heady with joy, “Gosh, you’re my saviour!”

“Just don’t tell anyone about this,” Geralt grumbles.

“Not a soul, Geralt, not a soul.”

“Send me the details about when and where and let’s get this over w–”

“No, wait!” Jaskier cuts in, “My family’s very perceptive, they’ll know it’s a ruse. We should plan everything carefully.”

“You’re making me regret this,” Gerlt growls.

“I’m sorry!” Jaskier hastens to say. “Just... at least tell me a bit about yourself?”

Geralt lets out an irritated sigh. “I’m forty, serve for the Royal Navy with my brothers. Eskel’s the nice one and Lambert’s the prick. My ex-wife Yennefer works for the government.” Jaskier actually shudders at this one because he already can picture it. Yennefer seems exactly powerful like that. “We have a daughter,” Geralt goes on, his tone softening, “Ciri. She’s fourteen. We live in London but I’m away often.”

“Oh, lovely,” Jaskier says with a wide smile because, really, this man’s love for his daughter is so clear and endearing, “this is something we can start with.”

“Just make everything up about our relationship and send it to me. I’ll play along.”

“Thank you,” he breathes out, still amazed at his luck. Jaskier is almost high on the success of his ingenious scheme and his obligations are therefore non-existent, so nothing stops him from teasing Geralt. “Though, to be completely honest," he says cheekily, "you don’t strike me as the type to sing praises of our love and compliment my aunts.”

“Hmm,” Geralt replies. It doesn’t sound like a negation. “Yen says I’m not that bad if I try.”

The fondness with which he said Yennefer’s name is a cold bucket of water poured on his enthusiasm. “O-oh, ok,” he stutters out, thrown off-track, “So, uhm, would you be willing to try for me?”

For a moment, Geralt says nothing, then answers, “If you give Ciri an autograph.”

Jaskier laughs out loud. “Not a problem at all! Whatever she wants.” He pauses. “Whatever you want,” he adds more seriously.

Geralt only hmms, in a way that Jaskier’s prone-to-romanticism mind would almost call warm. Silence falls between them but it doesn’t feel awkward somehow. “Have to go,” Geralt says.

“Okay,” Jaskier replies quietly, “Thank you again. I’ll text you, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

After Geralt hangs up, Jaskier huffs out a shaky breath. Deep down, he already knows.

This is going to mess him up.

TBC

Part 2

#myfic #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #the witcher #modern au #pretend relationship #fake dating #fanfic #let's call this... the Sailor and the Singer AU xD #the Sailor and the Singer AU

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bamf-jaskier · 4 years

Note

Could you do fuc reccomendations for modern AU?

Okay so, I said this briefly in an earlier post but I’m much more into like reincarnation vs Modern AUs but I’ve still seen some good ones in my day and here they are:

you follow?

It’s a series of tweets, memes, texts, ect all about a world where Jaskier and Geralt are a celebrity couple and I love the work put it and it makes me laugh. @shortcrust

silence in this room, the death of me

sooo this fic actually made me cry, Geralt continues to live and Jaskier continues to reincarnate. It’s actually so beautiful and has a great ending. @ninemelodies

Guardian of the Souless

look, if you’ve even so much as googled modern au Geraskier you’ve run across this fic. It’s classic, Yen’s a crimelord and Jaskier adorable. It’s over 100k and has plenty of fluff, angst, action, and adventure for everyone @starrose17

Where There’s a Witcher

This is legit canon plot but in a modern AU and geraskier content!! It’s slowburn but you get enough snippets to keep you buy, also Roach is a car now, I don’t make the rules. @ghostinthelibrary

you ain’t ever gonna burn my heart out

Geralt and Jaskier can live a thousand lifetimes and always find their way back to each other, also Vesemir is there and I love than the old grump.

Rumour Has It

This right here is just 3000 words of laughter. Basically, u got the Yen/Jaskier/Geralt relationship but in a modern context and people being all confused as to who Ciri’s parents are.

I Promise (Not)

I see the words reincarnation and I’m done for. In this one, both Yen and Geralt are around and trying to get Jaskier to remember, it’s good stuff @zuzallove

The Flower and the Ox

This time, an immortal Jaskier is waiting for Geralt into the modern age, it’s like a reverse of the normal trope. @impsane

something so magic about you

still a little baby fic, but basically an immortal Jaskier has finally found Geralt’s reincarnation and is falling in love with him all over again. @winterladyy

A Wolf Among Lilacs

I love a good Geralt/Yen and this one is really very strongly video game based but still lots of good content with our two idiots refusing to talk to each other until there is literally no other options left @yennas

hopefully, I chose some more eclectic modern AUs that you might not think of reading at first glance in the tags. Also, I chose a ton of reincarnation ones sorry!! I’m not super into modern AUs so I just picked out the ones that I enjoyed reading a lot, my tastes can be weird

#asks #myposts #fic recs #fanfiction #the witcher fanfic #fanfic #yenneraly #geraskier #jaskier #geralt #immortal jaskier #modern au #the witcher au

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itsemmyb · 4 years

Text

what if...

pairing: geraskier

word count: 1039

rating: teen

warnings: angst, swearing

notes: modern day geraskier au. i had almost forgotten why i loved writing so much. this idea came to me at like four in the morning and i couldn’t help myself. thank you @05alyaly12 for beta reading this and i’m not sorry for making you cry.

song: surrender by natalie taylor

They're at a bar when Geralt sees him. Lately he's been burying himself in his work with no breaks and Lambert's just gotten a big promotion so they drag him out to celebrate.

He looks happy, that's the first thing that Geralt notices. Much happier than the last time that they spoke. What Geralt would give if he could just erase that moment, that conversation, the things he said.

Jaskier doesn't notice him at first, he's too busy talking with his friends, ever the chatterbox. Geralt can't seem to take his eyes off him though. He hasn't aged much, it's only been about a year, but he's got a new haircut; cropped slightly shorter than it was before and he's got a tattoo now, sheet music and notes swirling their way around his upper arm. He looks good.

It's when Jaskier goes on stage to perform that he actually meets his eyes for the first time that night. It's only for a brief moment, but it feels like an eternity. Geralt had almost forgotten how easily he could get lost in those endless blue eyes. Goosebumps raise on his skin as that melodic voice reaches his ears, like a gust of cool wind chasing away the fog, it cleared his mind, made him feel calm again after god knows how long, gave him a reason to smile.

When he's finished with his set he makes his way toward the bar for a drink. Geralt does a double take as he looks up, seeing Jaskier follow Lambert nervously toward their table. He hasn't broken the habit of picking at the skin on his fingers when he's anxious, Geralt notes. He doesn't know why it's a noteworthy fact, but to him everything about Jaskier seemed noteworthy.

Jaskier greets everyone but him with a hug. He offers up a timid smile and Geralt thinks at least that's better than nothing. He remains quiet for the better part of the night, only chiming in so it doesn't affect the atmosphere.

It proves futile after a few hours though. Keira brings up how well they're getting along for exes. She meant no ill intention, he knew that, but her words seem to strike a chord in Jaskier. His mood shifts and he looks down at the watch on his wrist, stumbling out an excuse to leave. Geralt watches as he gathers his things and makes his way over to the table he was previously at to say goodbye to his friends.

"I didn't mean it in any way." She whispers when he's out of earshot, her voice holding traces of apology and regret.

"I know." He offers with a small smile and a purse of his lips. His eyes never stop following Jaskier though. Before he knows it, he's out of his seat, following Jaskier outside of the bar, his legs are moving of their own accord, it's like he doesn't have control over his own body anymore.

Geralt catches him when he's already half way down the sidewalk, calling out to him and waiting with baited breath to see if he answers. Jaskier stops in his tracks and Geralt can see the internal debate going on in his head, he hopes that the argument goes in his favour. Jaskier hesitantly turns on his heels, raising his eyebrows expectantly.

"I'm sorry." He begins, taking a tentative step towards his love. "I fucked up. I was angry, and I took my temper out on you. You didn't deserve that. I never loved you enough. I never loved you like you deserved." He's about two feet away now and wanting so bad to close the distance between them.

"No. You didn't." There isn't any malice in Jaskier's words, they're stated matter-of-factly with a sad, crooked smile.

Geralt takes another step closer. The familiar smell of amber wood and bergamot flooding his senses, invading every fiber of his being. "I've been going to therapy." He states, the slightest hint of pride peeking through. "I've been making a lot of progress too."

"That's good, Geralt. I'm happy for you." Jaskier smiles and his heart swells. He had missed that smile, his regular smile lit up a room, it brought joy to everyone, but this one, this one was reserved specifically for Geralt.

"I miss you." There are tears pooling in his eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment. He realizes he's never been this vulnerable before, not with anyone. "I want you back."

Jaskier reaches up to cup his face and he instinctively leans into his touch, turning his head to press a kiss into his palm. How he missed the feeling of the poet's soft skin against his own.

"I can't." It's like his entire world comes crashing down. "I spent so long getting over you. It hurt...so much. I can't go through that again." His voice breaks at the end.

This is the hardest decision Jaskier's ever had to make. But it's for the better. For their own good, the both of them.

Geralt is numb. He doesn't feel the soft kiss pressed against his cheek and he doesn't miss the warmth of Jaskier's palm as it leaves his face.

"I'm sorry, Geralt." The words are whispered so softly that he almost doesn't hear them. They're laced with so much pain that it feels like he's just been stabbed repeatedly.

He understands though. This was on him. He was the one that fucked up. He's the one who caused all this pain and suffering in the first place.

All he can think is what if, what if he had just tried a little harder? What if he hadn't closed himself off? What if he had talked instead of losing his temper? What if. What if. What if.

What if...what if he had just done better?

He only feels two hands guiding him back to the bar as he watches the man he loves walk away. He's not sure what happens after. He doesn't know how he got home, Eskel he supposes. He just wakes up on a tear stained pillow the next morning with a bottle of water, an aspirin and a note telling him to pull himself together for his daughter's sake.

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im-fairly-whitty · 4 years

Text

Title: Forget Me Not by @im-fairly-whitty (Ao3: im_fairly_witty)

Fandom: The Witcher (Netflix/Books/Game)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Wordcount: 11731

Summary: You meet up with your soulmate in dreams once or twice every year your whole life, giving you the chance to grow up together and befriend each other no matter where you live. The catch is you only remember what happens in those dreams if you’re currently in one, or if you meet in real life and you BOTH want to be with each other, meaning your waking lives carry on as they would have otherwise with you none the wiser as to whether or not you have a soulmate out there.

This leads to unexpected and wonderful tearful reunions between soulmates discovering each other in waking life, but if your waking selves don’t get along or have emotional constipation (cough, Geralt, cough cough) you and your soulmate can only watch helplessly from your dream meetings as your waking selves make things terrible for both of you without even realizing it.

Additional Tags: Geraskier of course. Instant friendship, but a bit of a slow burn romantically, because Geralt's had five year old Jaskier for fifteen minutes (and if anything happened to him he'd kill everyone in this room and then himself) but romantic feelings don't start until later when they're both adults. Hurt comfort, wump, First Kiss. Happy Ending because RIP season one but I'm different. Also young Jaskier is a national treasure who must be protected at all costs.

For @geraskierweek: prompt 1, Soulmates

Geralt is eighty five years old when he meets his soulmate for the first time in a dream.

He knows it’s a soulmate dream too, he’s never dreamt anything nearly so vivid or calm, only ever having had muddled nightmares if anything at all. But now he finds himself standing in a field of wildflowers, a slight breeze brushing over the loose black shirt he’s wearing. An unseen sun warms his skin in the perfect pleasantness of a calm summer’s day.

And Geralt feels sick to his stomach. Because he does not want a soulmate, had been convinced that he didn’t have one after decades of nothing.

But as he walks across the field he hears the soft gurgling of a brook and sees exactly why it’s taken so long for his first dream to come. Sitting on the bank of the stream, shoes and socks stripped off with his feet splashing in the water, is a five year old boy.

Geralt’s sick feeling doubles as he silently watches the boy from afar, suddenly far more furious at destiny for what it’s just done to this poor child. Matching him up with a monster. The boy should be meeting someone his own age right now, a childhood friend seen fleetingly in dreams once or perhaps twice a year as they aged together. Not a witcher.

Geralt jumps as the little boy looked over his shoulder, spotting him. For a moment Geralt considers just turning and leaving, just walking away and out of this poor child’s dreams for good.

But then the boy’s eyes light up in a look of eager happiness and he waves excitedly, jumping up and running over to him before he can get away.

“Hi! My name’s Julian! What’s your name? Do you know what this place is?” The little boy asks excitedly, jumping up and down with seemingly boundless energy. “There’s so many flowers, I love them!”

“I’m Geralt.” Geralt says a little stiffy, mind reeling a bit. Because he can’t remember a single time in his life that a child has greeted him with anything other than fear, and it’s stunned him as easily as Axii.

“Hi Geralt! I’m Julian!” says Julian brightly, having apparently already forgotten his previous introduction in his excitement. He grabs Geralt’s hand before he can react and pulls him along. “Come see the stream I found!”

Geralt swallows as he lets himself be tugged along, at a loss for words or thought. Instead he finds himself listening attentively as Julian drags him to stand in the shallow water, proudly showing him wet rocks and pebbles of slightly different colors.

It’s only been a few minutes when Geralt feels the dream already starting to fade, they never last long for the first few years he’s heard. But by the time Julian disappears from sight Geralt is absolutely heartbroken for the child, having already come to love him in the kind of way that would have him burning a village should he come to harm.

And Geralt is absolutely furious to know that he will have no memory of the dream once he wakes up. That neither of them will remember their encounter until the next time they meet.

***

Julian is eleven when he finally realizes why he can never remember Geralt when he wakes up.

“You’re my soulmate aren’t you.” Julian not so much asks as simply states, looking up at Geralt.

The two of them are sitting cross legged in the wildflower field they always meet in, braiding long strands of grass to see who can make the longest one. Sometimes they explore together, sometimes they sit on the bank of the stream to splash around, sometimes Julian manages to get Geralt to tell him a story. They’re always very exciting stories.

“Hmmm.” Geralt grunts, not looking up from his grass braiding.

“My mum says if you meet your soulmate in your dreams not to bother telling them your name, because neither of you will remember when you’re awake.” Julian says, reaching over to pick a flower to weave into his grass braid. “That’s why I only remember you when we’re here, isn’t it?”

“Hmmm.” Geralt says again. But Julian knows it’s the “yes” kind of hmmm. They’ve met enough times over the years that Julian knows what all the hmmm’s mean now.

They continue to braid for a few quiet minutes, the soft breeze rustling through the wildflowers.

“How come you’re so old?” Julian asks, looking up at Geralt. “Aren’t soulmates supposed to be the same age?”

There’s a kind of almost smile on Geralt’s face which means he’s supposed to be chuckling, but then a little bit of a sad look too.

“It’s because I’m a witcher.” Geralt says, not looking at Julian as he plucks another long blade of grass. “It means I’ll live for hundreds of years and still look about this age.”

“Oh, like elves.” Julian asks, nodding sagely.

“Yeah, a little bit like elves.” Geralt says with a shrug, but now his little smile stays.

Julian’s nose wrinkles, “Does that mean it’s not going to be until I’m like fifty that we meet in real life? So I look as old as you do?”

Geralt actually laughs at that, reaching over to ruffle Julian’s hair. “I do not look fifty. Thirty at most.”

“But you’ve got white hair!” Julian says defensively, warming to his argument. “Only really old people have white hair, everybody knows that Geralt.”

“A fair point, little lark.” Geralt says. His smile dims a little. “And I don’t know when we’ll meet in real life. I hope we don’t.”

“What?” Julian cries, jumping to his feet, throwing his grass braid into the air for emphasis. “But we’re soulmates! We gotta meet in real life too so we can be real life friends! How else are we gonna remember each other when we’re awake?”

“My life isn’t one that you want to be in.” Geralt says gently. “I’m always in danger, I’m always having to fight monsters and travel hard. You wouldn’t be able to come with me, it would be too dangerous and I would be too unkind.”

“But you’re always nice. You’re my best friend!” Julian insists, crossing his arms.

“It’s easier here.” Geralt says simply, going back to his braid. “I don’t have to worry when I’m here. But if we meet in real life you’ll be frightened of me, I’ll have two great swords on my back and be in dirty armor and look angry all the time to scare off people who want to hurt me.”

“I won’t let anyone hurt you.” Julian says seriously. “I’ll make them be nice to you, I’ll tell them how great and kind you are and then you won’t have to worry.”

“I’m sure you would.” Geralt says with a sad smile, holding up his finished grass braid to Julian as they feel the dream start to fade.

***

Geralt is ninety five the year that Julian’s mother dies. He holds the fifteen year old on his arms as the boy cries bitterly into his shoulder the entire dream they’re together, having had no other shoulders to cry on when he was awake.

***

“I ran away from home last month.” Seventeen year old Julian says.

Geralt looks over at him where they’re both lying in the grass, hands behind their heads as they stare at the blue nothing sky.

“Did your father finally throw you out?” Geralt askes. “Or did you finally hide enough money for Oxenfurt?”

“A little of both.” Julian says, voice deceptively easy. “Got caught sleeping with a maid and figured it was time to get out while I still could. I didn’t fancy being beaten within an inch of my life like Mother.”

A long moment of quiet passes between them.

“Are you safe? Where you are?” Geralt asks, looking over.

“Not really.” Julian says quietly, reaching down to pluck a blade of grass and starting to slowly break it apart in his fingers. “I’m pretending to myself that I am, but I know I’m going to get stabbed if I hang around much longer. I’ll probably wise up in a day or two, once I get over my pride.”

“Did you buy a knife like I told you to?” Geralt askes, knowing perfectly well how futile giving advice of any kind is, but having to try anyway.

“I didn’t.” Julian says, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “I was even looking at one in the marketplace, thinking how much I wished I knew how to use one properly.” he looked over at Geralt, sharing the moment of sad irony with him. “It’s utter rubbish, this not being able to remember business. At least when we meet I’ll suddenly have the knife wielding skills of a bandit from what you’ve taught me.”

Geralt chuckles a sad kind of chuckle that ends in a sigh.

Another minute of silence.

“And don’t say we’re not going to meet, because I can feel you thinking it and we are.” Julian says, raising up on one elbow to glare at him more easily.

“We aren’t going to meet.” Geralt said, shaking his head tiredly. “You’ll see me coming a mile away and be too terrified to even get a look at my face. As you should be.”

“I won’t!” Julian insists. “We’ll end up in the same seedy tavern someday, soon too now that I’m traveling, and we’ll see each other across the crowd as I’m playing my lute and suddenly I’ll remember how to wield a knife and you are going to remember you owe me a drink.”

Geralt only keeps shaking his head. “You only get your dream memories back if you both want to be together Julian. You know I don’t want a soulmate. My life isn’t the kind that’s supposed to be shared, there’s not a chance that I’m going to see you in real life and want you around me. Neither of us will remember.”

“You can’t convince me I’m unattractive Geralt, I have an extremely healthy self image.” Julian says, stretching in a comical attempt at a sexy pose.

“You’re a child.” Geralt scoffs.

“Not for long.” Jaskier says, raising an eyebrow. “Give me a few years and I’ll look as old as you, and then when I find you I’ll keep badgering you until you let me stay, and then boom. Soulmate memories.”

Geralt snorts. “If I had an entire week I could not explain to you all the ways in which that is extremely unlikely.”

Geralt closes his eyes, but he can feel Julian watching him from across the grass.

“If we already remembered each other, would you come get me?” Julian asks quietly, the barest hint of a shake hidden in his voice.

Geralt opens his eyes, looking at him steadily. “If we already remembered each other I would have come to get you the day your mother died, and then killed your father for good measure.”

“Okay.” Julian says, voice still quiet as he curls up a little in the grass, still laying on his side.

Geralt can smell the fear starting to seep off the boy as he feels the dream start to fade around them, pulling them back to real life.

“You’ll be alright.” Geralt says, reaching over to grip the boy’s shoulder comfortingly. “You’re stubborn and you’re quick on your feet if nothing else, you’ll survive.”

“Geralt, I-” Julian’s hand grips his.

And then the dream fades.

***

Geralt is ninety nine the first time he finds himself in a soulmate dream where he finds that he’s even more upset than the very first time he found himself in the wildflower field.

“Geralt!”

He looks over and see Julian...no, Jaskier, sprinting toward him. The young man slams into him at top speed, grabbing him in a hug that is buzzing with energy and excitement.

“We met!” Jaskier cries, his eyes actually filling with excited tears. “We met! We met! I can’t believe we finally met, and Gods Geralt you never once mentioned how lethally attractive you are in real life! I thought I was going to die when I saw you! And-”

There are too many things in Geralt’s head that need to be said, too many competing emotions warring to get out first.

But Geralt does the most important thing first and wraps Jaskier into a protective bear hug, holding him close. Jaskier returns the hug eagerly, quieting for just a moment despite practically humming in excitement.

“We didn’t remember.” Geralt says quietly, pulling out of the hug enough to look Jaskier in the eyes, then anger surfaces for its turn out in the open. “And what are you doing Jaskier? Why on earth are you following me around? You nearly got slaughtered by elves on your first day! Do you have a death wish?”

“But that’s the thing Geralt!” Jaskier says eagerly. “I can tell there’s something special about you! I saw you in the tavern and I could tell!”

“You know we’re soulmates?” Geralt demands.

“No, no, no memories at all, but still it feels like...” Jaskier bites his lip, searching for words, which doesn’t happen often. “I’m not sure what it feels like, but it just feels like I’m supposed to be around you, I feel like you can keep me safe. I haven’t figured it out yet obviously, but maybe I will soon!”

Geralt feels his heart ache, remembering the disgust and irritation he feels toward Jaskier in real life without his true memories to assist him.

“I’m sorry for hitting you.” he says quietly.

“Oh that’s alright.” Jaskier says with a grin. “I supposed I deserved it, but I did warn you I was going to be stubborn!”

“Jaskier there’s no way this is going to work.” Geralt says, shaking his head. “I’ve already decided to shake you off when we reach town tomorrow, you’re too slow on foot and you sing too much.”

“You are so grumpy in real life, you know that?” Jaskier says, narrowing his eyes and jabbing a finger at Geralt’s chest. “Like, unbelievably grumpy, and mean! Do you have an entire witcher mutagen dedicated to being taciturn in real life that doesn’t affect you when you’re asleep? I swear you’re like a whole different person!”

“I’ve only known you for a few days in real life.” Geralt said, dropping his arms to his sides with a sigh. “You’re seeing what the world sees of me. I never let that guard down, ever. I can’t afford to. That’s the reality of being a witcher, I can’t ever be vulnerable or that’s the end of it for me.”

“I’m sorry.” Jaskier says, his eyes dropping. “I’m sorry your life’s been like that.” He looks up with a flame of anger in his own eyes. “I hate the way people look at you, the way you save all of them and then they treat you like garbage. I’m going to make them see who you really are Geralt, I’m already working on songs to do it.”

“Your songs that are already changing the truth of what actually happened to us?” Geralt said with a smile.

“Yes! And they’re going to be fantastically popular.” Jaskier says, absolutely convinced.

“Also,” Geralt says, his smile disappearing and raising an eyebrow as his grip on Jaskier’s shoulder tightens. “You are utterly shameless. I can smell you constantly reeking of lust around me when we’re walking around together, have you ever once in your life tried to be subtle? That’s the biggest reason I’ve decided to shake you off tomorrow.”

Jaskier grins sheepishly, “In my defence you haven’t told me how old you really are?” he tries. “I’m still out there assuming you’re a foxy mid to late thirties.”

“Will it really make a difference when you find out I’m ninety nine?” Geralt asks flatly.

“No.” Jaskier says, his grin no longer sheepish. “Oh, and happy hundredth by the way if you haven’t told me by then.”

“No changing the subject.” Geralt says sternly. “We’re likely never going to see each other again in real life after your obnoxious performance, so I hope you’re satisfied with our one death outing together.”

“Oh, we’ll meet again.” Jaskier said happily.

“And how can you be so sure?” Geralt says dryly.

“Because I’ve already decided I’m going to stalk you across the continent like a lovesick schoolboy.” Jaskier says proudly. “And my awake self decided that all on his own.”

“That’s because you are a lovesick school boy. One who’s going to get himself killed by following me.” Geralt says, shoving at Jaskier’s shoulder as they begin to walk across the meadow to their usual spot by the stream.

“Honestly though Geralt, why have you kept me around even this long? You have to like me at least a little.” Jaskier asks, looking at him curiously as he follows.

“You’re the first human I’ve ever met who doesn’t smell like fear when they look at me.” Geralt says with a shrug. “It’s intriguing. Novel.”

Jaskier makes a sad kind of noise, looking at him and then wrapping him in a second hug.

“Geralt, here I was fishing for compliments and you have to hit me with that?” Jaskier mumbles against his chest.

“Well I’m never ever going to say it in waking, so I might as well.” Geralt sighs.

“Just you wait, we’re going to make it, I know we will.” Jaskier says, looking up at him with a smile full of determination. “I’ll track you down again, you’ll see.”

***

Only nine months and one dream pass before Jaskier manages to find Geralt again in real life. He is extremely smug.

“Just you wait, Witcher.” Jaskier says, using the name he’s picked up from using in real life. “By the end of the year we’ll both have remembered.”

***

If Geralt had known three years passed without a single dream he would have been worried, but of course he has no way of knowing that until he finds himself standing in the field of flowers again.

Jaskier is standing a ways off, arms folded tightly as he stares off into the nothing distance, his shoulders tense.

“Jaskier.” Geralt calls, and the bard turns, a look of sheer relief breaking through his worried expression as he runs to Geralt.

“Why was it so long?” Jaskier asks, face buried against Geralt’s neck as they hold tightly to one another. “Why haven’t we seen each other in so long Geralt?”

Geralt takes a long moment just to breathe in Jaskier’s scent, which is riddled with fear and unease, then kisses his forehead, aching because he knows there’s no good way he can apologize for how he’s acted in waking life. Because of course they have seen each other, quite often in fact, but Geralt hates seeing it with remembering eyes. His gruffness, the constant shoving Jaskier away both figuratively and literally. The way that Jaskier puts up with it all with a smile.

Things aren’t always bad, they’ve had good times too, but not nearly enough to make up for it in his opinion.

“I don’t know.” Geralt says slowly, almost having to remember how to use long sentences again after so long in his customary waking gruffness. “Perhaps it’s because we’re together often in real life. The dreams don’t feel like they have to pull us together any more.”

“It’s been three years Geralt and we haven’t remembered a thing yet.” Jaskier says, his voice sounding a little hoarse against Geralt’s neck. “I, I guess things are pretty normal for us only having known each other three years though, right? Loads of people probably act like we do. With me hanging on and you hating everything...”

Geralt bites his lip, realizing that Jaskier had gotten so used to glossing over his emotions around Geralt in real life that he’s even doing it here now.

“You scare me in real life.” Geralt said, being the first to be honest. “I keep thinking I’m going to break you or scare you off like everyone else, I don’t understand what you see in me to keep following me and being kind and it frightens me. That’s why I still have so many walls, I’ve never had a real human friend, and I’m afraid of how fragile I think you are.”

Jaskier makes a small choking sound, nearly a sob as he looks up and Geralt sees tears in his eyes. “We are friends then?” he asks, voice hoarse. “In real life I mean, I always keep hoping we are or, or will be, but I just don’t know what you think about me really so I just keep joking around it and-”

“You’re the truest friend I’ve ever had Jaskier.” Geralt said firmly, putting a hand gently to his cheek. “You just picked the worst possible person to try befriending. I promise.”

“O-okay.” Jaskier said, tears sliding down his cheeks as he gasps for breath a little. “Okay. It’s just so hard to tell with you sometimes.” He wiped fiercely at his eyes. “Gods, sorry, I swear I’m not this distraught in real life, honestly I’m alright, I’m perfectly pleased to keep worrying away at you for the long haul. It’s just so...so disorienting to be back here I suppose, to remember. I just wish we both remembered already.”

“It’s alright little lark.” Geralt said softly, sitting in the grass and pulling Jaskier down into his arms. Holding him tight, as if it could make up for three years of only rough and brief touches in passing. “This is my fault, I always told you I’d be miserable company in real life.”

“It’s not all bad you know.” Jaskier swallows, resting his head against Geralt’s chest. “Really it’s not. You’re always so kind to people who really need it, and you make the worst jokes when we’re alone on the road together, and you’re so soft with Roach, and you’re terrifying at Gwent. And I know you really do care about me, because you’re always saving my skin every single time I need it, and I know you make sure I get the best parts of our food when we’re running low, and I know you bought me those boots last month because mine were falling apart so don’t even pretend it was because they were cheap anyway. I know they weren’t. I know clothes Geralt.”

Something warm gently flickers in Geralt’s chest as his bard lists so many things Geralt hadn’t considered as being good. They were just things he felt he needed to do. But coming from Jaskier they did sound good. It almost makes him feel better.

“So you’re not miserable then?” Geralt asks hesitantly.

“No! No, not by a long shot.” Jaskier says, wide-eyed as he looks up at him. “Geralt these are the best years I’ve ever had in my life, I get to go adventuring with you and see sights no one in Oxenfurt’s ever seen, and then I get to go hole up for the winter in a warm classroom and write songs while you hibernate up at your witcher castle. This is the dream Geralt.”

“You should have better dreams.” Geralt says softly. “These years are the prime of your life, you should be spending them doing something else.”

“If you remember to tell me all that again when we wake up I’ll do it.” Jaskier says, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Speaking of better dreams,” Geralt says flatly. “would you actually die if you didn’t jump in bed with everything that moves? As glad as I am that you appreciate me dragging you out of every fire you light under yourself, I sometimes forget I’m supposed to be fighting monsters, not cuckolded husbands.”

“Do you have any idea how much sexual frustration I deal with on a daily basis just from being around you?” Jaskier replies seriously. “When you walk around looking like a marble statue in black leather and a loose ponytail? And that’s just when you have clothes on.”

Geralt rolled his eyes. “Well, good to see you’re feeling better.”

“I’m serious Geralt.” Jaskier says, curling closer to him, looking down at the grass. “I’m not just sticking around for the song material anymore. I’ve...really fallen for you. You could at least pretend to notice.”

“You’re still so young.” Geralt shakes his head, resting his chin gently on Jaskier’s head. “You get obsessed with things all the time, I know you’ll get bored and move on eventually.”

“I won’t. Not from you.” Jaskier says firmly, one hand holding tightly to the front of Geralt’s shirt. “And you can’t keep using my age as an excuse either, I know for a fact that you don’t sleep with prostitutes your age when we visit the Passaflora, so you can stop pretending that’s a valid excuse not to be attracted to me at this point.”

Geralt only chuckles. “I’m only telling you what I really think in waking life Jaskier, you can’t get mad at me for it here.”

“Well, what do you think here?” Jaskier asks, looking up at him, their faces only inches apart now.

Geralt thinks for a moment, looking into the young man’s cornflower blue eyes. He can’t deny that in waking life he has considered more than once how attractive the bard is. But even in waking it’s not something he’s considered at length, far more concerned with the constant challenge of keeping his curious human companion in one piece than anything else.

“What I think here is that you are still young.” Geralt says gently. He kisses Jaskier’s forehead and the bard heaves a sigh.

“You’re the worst soulmate ever, you know that?” He says, squinting up at him accusingly.

“I’ve never claimed to be anything else.” Geralt says, a little too soberly.

“What if we don’t see each other again for another three years?” Jaskier asks, smelling nervous again.

“That’ll probably mean we’re still traveling together fairly often.” Geralt reasons. “You know, if you leave me alone maybe we’ll see each other here more again.”

“Not a chance, witcher.” Jaskier says. “Not a chance.”

***

By the time they’ve traveled together for the better part of twelve years in waking life they’ve seen each other four more times in dreams. Which is not nearly enough, and somehow far too much.

“I’m going to ask you to escort me to Cintra tomorrow night for the betrothal feast, I got invited to play at it.” Jaskier says quietly against Geralt’s shoulder. The two of them are standing in the field of wildflowers together, simply holding each other after years of distance.

“I’ve been gone three days after a selkimore.” Geralt says with a smile. “How are you so sure I’m even alive?”

“Well now I know you’re alive.” Jaskier says, looking up at him with a grin. “I’ll remember.”

“You won’t.”

“I will.” Jaskier says, as if it’s a fact, not a wish. “And when you’re back you’ll probably be covered in all kinds of filth like usual and I’ve got a bath and everything all planned to butter you up to make you come with me.”

“I won’t like it.” Geralt warns.

“You don’t like anything.” Jaskier points out.

“I like you.” Geralt says.

Jaskier looks up at him with his thirty one year old eyes and tilts his head a bit. “How do you mean?”

“In waking life.” Geralt says simply. “I’ve started to really...like you. Unironically, I love having you around me.

“You absolute bastard! I knew it!” Jaskier cries in delight, taking hold of Geralt’s shirt collar. “And yet you still pretend we aren’t friends, but you do like me. I see you listening to all my songs from the back of the tavern, and the way you smile just a little when I talk too long even though you aren’t listening, and you are going to agree to come to Cintra with me aren’t you?”

“I probably will.” Geralt sighed. “When was the last time I told you no?”

“You tell me not to do things all the time, I just don’t listen.” Jaskier says with a smug grin.

“When was the last time you asked me for something and I didn’t eventually do it. Even if I didn’t outright agree.” Geralt corrects gently.

“Do you think...do you think we’ll remember soon?” Jaskier says, eyes wide in hope.

Geralt thinks they might, he really does. Even when awake he’s taken to being far more protective of the bard, keeping him close whenever he can, wanting him to stay. Wanting him. Even if he can’t even admit it to himself while awake.

But he just can’t bear to get his bard’s hopes up when he knows he can’t guarantee anything upon waking. For them to remember both of them have to want to be together, and for years now they’ve only been waiting on him.

“Perhaps.” He says with a shrug. He rests a hand against Jaskier’s face and the bard leans into his touch. “But I hope so.”

“Geralt, can I kiss you?” Jaskier asks, as calmly as if asking whether it was raining outside.

“If you like.” Geralt says.

Their first kiss is as gentle as the breeze whispering through the wildflowers at their feet, as calm as the small brook that flows past them.

The dream fades before they have the chance for a second one.

***

Geralt is sitting in the wildflower field with his head in his hands. Even in dreams his constant waking headache hasn’t left him, in fact it almost seems worse.

Because it’s been five months since Cintra, and everything has gone exactly wrong.

He hears Jaskier appear behind him but doesn’t move. Footsteps through the grass, and then the pleasant warmth of Jaskier draping himself over Geralt’s back, slim arms wrapping around his neck as the bard kisses just behind his ear.

“Well, I assume it’s safe to say that neither of us saw that coming.” Jaskier says with a tired chuckle. “You left in a marvelous huff before I could ask, why did you claim the law of surprise? Really Geralt, after seeing all that, what on earth were you thinking?”

“That you would think it was a terribly funny joke when I inherited a new second hand crown or a fine jacket from it. That we’d both get a laugh from it after such a trying night.” Geralt says hoarsely, having no reason to lie.

“Geralt...” Jaskier says, at a loss for words.

Geralt doesn’t move as they sit in silence, because they both already know that if he hadn’t invoked the law of surprise then he wouldn’t have stormed off on his own, that he and Jaskier would have stayed together, that they just might have remembered each other by now.

And instead they are now alone in waking life, who knew how far apart. For who knew how long this time.

Geralt feels his hair pulled loose out of its half ponytail and Jaskier’s long fingers begin to comb through it. It eases his headache a bit and he closes his eyes.

“But why did you run so fast and so far?” Jaskier asks quietly. “You’d disappeared before I’d even gotten to my feet Geralt, you were long gone by the time I got back to the inn. No one says you have to actually take the child for your own, you could just be a sort of godparent couldn’t you? Just visiting every now and then like a kind uncle, they won’t even be born for-”

“Because I can’t stand it when destiny gets her hooks in children, and this time it’s my fault.” Geralt growls. “When that baby is born they’re going to be caged in at every side by destiny. No matter what they do, they’ll never be able to escape being a child surprise. They aren’t even born yet and their choice is already stripped from them. Because of me.”

Jaskier’s fingers go still in his hair.

“Is that why you hate the idea of soulmates so much?” Jaskier asks quietly.

“This, no, this isn’t about that.” Geralt shakes his head, but Jaskier is already gone from his back.

The bard moves in front of him, sitting down in the grass and looking at Geralt, trapping his gaze. “Is this why we haven’t remembered each other in waking life yet?” Jaskier asks, and Geralt can’t quite tell what emotion it is flavoring the bard’s voice this time, but it’s something sad. “Because deep down you think I’m trapped in this, so that’s why you keep pushing me away? That I have no choice but to be herded back to you by destiny? Is this because I was a child when we first met?”

“That isn’t what I-”

“No, you know what? It’s my turn to talk.” Jaskier says, and the sadness in his voice is so close to anger now that Geralt wishes he was anywhere else but here. “You always say that you don’t believe in destiny and that everything’s up to chance, but we both know that’s not true. I don’t love you because destiny told me to, I love you because you’re the best man I’ve ever met, here or awake. You’ve been the only person I can always rely on, even when you pretend you hate me.

“And think of Urcheon and Pavetta! They had it exactly the same as us, he was already grown when Pavetta was born too, and they still loved each other and remembered their soulmate dreams when they met in person. And now they’re together despite the greatest odds all because of destiny, and after what we both saw at that feast don’t you dare tell me that their love for each other isn’t real.”

“And now they owe their unborn child to a witcher.” Geralt says sourly.

“And why is that so terrible?” Jaskier cries in frustration. “You’re a lovely man Geralt, why is being connected to a child such a terrible concept to you?”

“Because I was a child surprise Jaskier!” Geralt shouts, he doesn’t remember getting to his feet, but now he’s standing over the bard. “Where do you think all the old wives tales of witchers stealing children come from?”

“But those are just tales, they don’t-” Jaskier says weakly.

“Every witcher was a child surprise.” Geralt says hotly. “That’s where we all come from. A life is saved and the law of surprise is demanded in return, and when the child is old enough to walk they’re whisked away, no matter how hard the parents beg. Because it’s destiny. And then seven out of ten of those little boys dies in terrible agony. Because it’s their destiny. My mother couldn’t have kept me back if she wanted to, I don’t even know if she wanted to Jaskier. My entire life has been set by some great unseeing hand and I hate it, and now it’s used me to get its claws into the unborn heir of Cintra, all because I couldn’t keep my idiot mouth shut. Do you perhaps, in all your sage acceptance of fate, see how that could perhaps possibly upset me?”

“Geralt, I didn’t know.” Jaskier says, face pale.

“No, you didn’t.” Geralt snaps. “Because as lovely as things are in this bloody field while we’re asleep, in waking my life is a terrible, dangerous, dark thing. Destiny decided before I was even born that I was to face pain and death every second of my unnaturally long life. I’m always going to be at the end of a blade, and the only thing that’ll keep me from being on the wrong end is if I treat everything around me like a threat. That is why we haven’t remembered each other in waking Jaskier, because you don’t belong in a life like that. I refuse to trap you in that with me.”

The breeze that is always brushing across the wildflower field has disappeared, leaving things unnaturally silent as Jaskier stares up at him. Wide blue eyes gazing at him, mercilessly soft. Geralt wishes that Jaskier would jump up too, that he would start yelling back at him, shove him, give him something else to react against. But he doesn’t.

“Do you love me?” Jaskier asks, watching him.

“What do you mean?” Geralt says.

“Do you?” Jaskier asks.

“Of course I do.”

“Good.”

“What do you mean, good?”

“Because I love you,” Jaskier says simply, picking a pale yellow wildflower from the grass by his knee. “and if we both still love each other that means we’ll manage to find each other again once you come to your senses.”

“Jaskier, I-”

“You don’t get to bad mouth destiny for supposedly taking away my choice and then go and try to take it away yourself.” Jaskier says, getting to his feet.

Geralt finds himself powerless to move as the bard tucks the flower behind his ear and kisses his cheek. Jaskier wraps his arms around his neck.

“I’ve been in your life for twelve waking years witcher,” Jaskier says gently in his ear. “And I’m not a child anymore. By now I know exactly what I’m getting myself into every time I tag along you know, I choose to be around you. I want to be with you. I’ll see you again.”

Geralt closes his eyes, gritting his teeth. Then he sighs, resting his head on Jaskier’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry.” Geralt says.

For yelling at him? For trying to force Jaskier’s hand? For abandoning him without a word in waking life? Or just for destiny tying them together in the first place? Maybe all four.

“Everything will be alright.” Jaskier says, kissing the corner of his mouth. “With us and with your child surprise. Even if it takes a while to get there.”

“Don’t you ever get tired of me?” Geralt asks. “How can you stand to be around me, even when I try driving you away?”

“I can always tell you don’t mean it.” Jaskier says, looking serious. “Deep down I think I know it’s not the real you when you act like that. But you’re lucky my waking self is convinced we’re soulmates and that we’ll wake up any moment, because sometimes you really are a prick Geralt.”

“You really think we’re soulmates when you’re awake?” Geralt asks, looking him in the eyes.

“It’s a ridiculously optimistic wish I can’t manage to make myself let go of.” Jaskier says with a shrug. “But we both know I’m a bit of an idiot.”

“Hmmm.” Geralt agrees.

“Not nearly as much of an idiot as you, but we make a fine pair I’ll admit.” Jaskier says with a grin.

Geralt moves to kiss him, but the dream fades before he has the chance.

***

The next time they meet he kisses Jaskier before he has the chance to say anything.

“Well. Hello, you.” Jaskier says, breathless but smiling as Geralt finally releases him from the kiss.

“Didn’t get to kiss you last time,” Geralt says, burying his face against Jasker’s neck and breathing in the bard’s scent. “Wanted to get it done first this time.”

“Well I certainly have no objection to that.” Jaskier hums. “I miss you you know, it’s been a few years. I’ve started courting a countess in your absence if you can believe it.”

“How terribly unfortunate for you.” Geralt says. He laughs as Jaskier smacks him.

***

“So. Yennifer.” Jaskier says quietly.

The two of them are curled up together in the long grass, Jaskier’s back against Geralt’s chest. The bard traces his fingers aimlessly over the arm Geralt has around his waist.

“Hmmm.” Geralt says, burying his nose in Jaskier’s hair, as if that will somehow keep them from the topic. But this is the first time they’ve seen each other since the djinn, so of course they’re going to talk about it.

“You know for not wanting people to be attached to you through cosmic means, you’re terrible at it.” Jaskier says.

“I really don’t need a reminder.” Geralt grumbles, closing his eyes tiredly.

“Why did you bind yourself to her?” Jaskier asks, words crisp. As if trying his hardest to keep them unemotional.

“She saved your life Jaskier, I couldn’t let her die.”

Geralt nearly whines as Jaskier pulls away from him, sitting up to look him in the face.

“She framed you for something that nearly got you executed, and then she tried to rope me into a dark ritual that went so badly it ripped an entire manor to pieces.” Jaskier says flatly. “You’d known her all of a few hours. You absolutely could have let her die.”

“Jaskier.” Geralt sighs.

“Is it because she’s older than you?” Jaskier says, his tone back to the flat clipped tone that means he’s hiding his emotions. “Is it because she’s powerful? Because she hates you? Everything I’m not?”

“Jaskier, no.” Geralt says, pushing himself up with a frown. “Yen is a good person, she’s just very old and hurting.”

“So you want her as your soulmate instead because she’s like you.” Jaskier says. “Because you can’t want things for yourself if they don’t involve something dangerous enough to kill you. That’s why you really like her isn’t it? Because chasing after her gives you the same rush as hunting monsters, it’s all you know how to do.”

“This is not about replacing you.” Geralt says, reaching for his wrist. “You’ve been with plenty of other people, that countess of yours kept you occupied for several years, why am I not allowed the same?”

“Because I don’t bind their souls to me with a djinn wish!” Jaskier snaps, yanking his arm away and getting to his feet.

“Jaskier, please, I’m sorry.” Geralt says, kneeling in front of the bard, hands up in surrender. “A djinn can’t kill its master, the only way I could think to save her was by binding her to me. It’s magic that can be undone, it’s not the same as destiny. I couldn’t let her die after she saved you. I would have broken if you’d died because of me.”

Jaskier crosses his arms, swallowing hard as he looks away. But he doesn’t say anything.

“And you’re right,” Geralt says, pressing on in the way he only ever manages when he’s not awake, when there’s only Jaskier to hear him. Where not even he will remember what he said in a few hours. “I am attracted to her because she’s like me. We have a lot of the same pain, a lot of the same fears.”

“Oh? And what is it that Yennefer of Vengerburg is so afraid of?” Jaskier says hotly.

“That she’ll never truly be loved, that’s she’s so far from human that no one will ever be able to need and care about her.” Geralt says.

“You can’t honestly believe that about yourself.” Jaskier says, looking at him with an expression of sad anger.

“I do when I’m awake.” Geralt says quietly. Because what else can he say?

Jaskier clenches his jaw, making a muffled irritated sound as he turns and stomps a few steps away, rubbing his face before turning back.

“How can you be so thick?” he cries, sharply gesturing at him with both hands. “How Geralt? How can you possibly be this dense? Why must you always see something simple and think to yourself, how can I make this as complicated as possible instead, hmmm? Is that something they taught you in Witcher school, all those apparently eons ago since you’re sooo old that you’re beyond the reach of human love and reason? You drag yourself into every terrible situation you can find, and then you have the audacity to be shocked when it has less than optimal results. Every single time.”

Jaskier is rambling. Which Geralt knows by now means less that the bard truly means what he says, and more that the man is trying very hard not to cry.

Geralt silently gets to his feet and catches Jaskier, pulling him into an embrace despite the bard’s protests and struggling. Jaskier hisses and pushes at him, hitting his chest, but then the bard goes limp in his arms, beginning to cry into Geralt’s shoulder.

Geralt says nothing, having nothing he can say. So he just holds Jaskier as the man sobs, looks up at the blue nothing sky.

“I hate these dreams.” Jaskier says thickly, face buried against Geralt’s neck. “I hate them. Everything is simpler when I’m awake, I hate remembering that things could be better, I wish I could just forget.”

“You don’t mean that.” Geralt says, his heart breaking.

“Don’t I?” Jaskier says, looking up at him with red rimmed eyes, tears running down his cheeks. “When I’m awake at least I have the luxury of thinking you’re an unrealistic fantasy, I can think every second I have with you is the best I’ve ever had. When I’m here I’m reminded every minute of what I don’t have, and even worse that you do care. It’s like having two hearts to be broken instead of only one Geralt.”

“Jaskier...please...” Geralt says helplessly, words failing him as surely as if he were awake. “If I knew how to fix this I would, you know I would.”

“I don’t know that anymore Geralt, that’s the problem.” Jaskier cries. “Because all I’ve ever heard you say in waking is that you don’t want to be needed, and when I’m here all you ever talk about is how much you don’t want me in your life with you. What am I supposed to think Geralt?”

“I...”

I’m not good at this.

I’m only pushing you away to protect you because I really do love you.

I need you.

But Geralt can’t figure out how to get the feelings from his brain to his mouth, leaving him stumbling for words as Jaskier watches him.

Geralt feels the dream fading around them and it only blocks his speech worse as he panics.

Jaskier disappears from his arms.

***

The next time Geralt finds himself in the wildflower field he is immediately consumed by a prickling feeling of guilt and panic that curls in his gut. Because even in waking he’s been consumed by uneasy guilt for the last two weeks, convinced he’s made a truly deep mistake but not quite knowing why underneath all his justifications.

If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands.

...I’ll see you around Geralt...

And now he knows exactly why, with excruciating clarity.

He sees a figure in the distance, watching him. Jaskier’s shirt is whipping in the stiff wind that races across the wildflower field, stronger than it’s ever been before, ripping petals off stems. The blue nothing sky has become a dark grey nothing sky above them, and sharp, dangerous shadows stretch across the field from nowhere.

“Jaskier!” Geralt shouts, starting toward him. He has to reach him, he has to make things right, fix what he’s done. He’s messed up far too badly this time, he has to fix this.

Jaskier doesn’t move, just watches him approach as the wind picks up even stronger, ripping up blades of grass and dirt that pelt against Geralt as he picks up speed.

“Jaskier, I-!”

Jaskier turns away from Geralt and walks away.

He takes two steps and vanishes completely into thin air.

Geralt stumbles to a halt, shielding his face as he shouts Jaskier’s name, not even hearing himself above the howling of the wind. He tries to push forward but is knocked to his knees. He squeezes his eyes shut against the gale, hunching down to dig his fingers into the ground to try and anchor himself, but everything feels like it is slipping, being ripped away from around him as he tries desperately to-

***

Geralt jolts upright, already half to his feet in a blind panic before the sleep clears from his head. He looks around and sees his camp. He’s awake. He’s alone. His pulse is racing from his dream.

He pants as he sits back down on his bedroll, forcing himself to take deep breaths as his heart beats far too fast for a witcher.

The noises of the forest night gently ease back into his senses as he rubs his face. The chirping of crickets, the whispering of a night breeze in the tree branches above him, the soft noises of Roach, who is watching him with worried interest from where she is grazing a few yards away in the dark. His campfire hasn’t even burned down to embers yet, so he gets up and throws on another log for the flames to eat at, trying to ignore the cold sweat covering him as he shakes slightly.

Because he hasn’t been able to sleep for three days now. Not even meditating helps for long.

Because every time he truly slips into unconsciousness he ends up in the same nightmare, and he doesn’t even know why it’s a nightmare. He’s always standing alone in the middle of a torn up field cast in a dark reddish light, strewn with the dead wreckage of uprooted grass and flowers. There is a dried up streambed and the air is dead still around him, feeling nearly suffocating.

And that’s all there is. Geralt’s never even seen the field before that he knows of, but every nightly visit fills him with such a sick feeling of loss that he wakes up shaking.

The night before it all started he’d actually woken up crying.

Though he doesn’t remember what it is he dreamed of that night.

“It’s got to be a warning.” Geralt says to Roach as he pulls a waterskin from his pack, voice not shaking. “If it’s the same vision repeated. But I don’t know what for, I never see anyone or anything. There’s not even buildings...just...dead flowers...”

He sits heavily on a log near the side of the campfire, drinking from the waterskin as he tries to pull his thoughts back together. But as he does his mind turns immediately to the other thing he’s been desperately trying not to think about.

Because he may be haunted by a dead field in his dreams, but when he’s awake all he can see is the back of a red doublet. All he can hear is his own angry words ringing in his mind. Jaskier’s unsteady ones in reply. Playing over and over and over and over-

“What am I supposed to do?” Geralt growls, throwing his hands up at the sky. Roach startles a little at his near shouting but Geralt isn’t even sure he’s talking to her anymore. To himself? Maybe. “I can’t sleep, I can’t think, I’m alone...”

Didn’t he want to be alone? Isn’t that what he’s been claiming his entire life?

“He was going to get hurt.” Geralt says lamely, his worn out excuse sounding pitiful. “He’s already spent too much of his life around me...he should be somewhere else...”

Nevermind that after so many years of company Geralt is always miserable without the bard beside him, no matter how much he tries to deny it. No matter that he knows for a fact that he’d hurt Jaskier worse than any monster they’d faced over the years when he’d shouted at him on that mountain.

The part that really hurts though is that Geralt knows he hadn’t even blamed Jaskier for things that were really his fault. He’d targeted Jaskier knowing he would take it, that the bard was the one person in the world who always stuck by him no matter how he treated him.

And it made Geralt sick. He’d finally crossed the line. Crossed the line and lost what he hadn’t known he had.

No, because that was a lie too. He knows he loves Jaskier, has for years. He’s just too much of a coward to accept it. Not when there is so much love bursting out of the bard, a frightening amount of care and affection waiting right in front of him. Something that Geralt can’t stand to lose, and therefore couldn’t risk touching, in case he harms it.

Geralt snarls at himself, starting to gather up his camp. Roach knickers curiously as he saddles her and packs everything into saddlebags, then goes over and stomps out the campfire. There was no use hanging around if he wasn’t going to be able to sleep anyway. That and he needs to get on the trail before he loses his nerve.

“Come on Roach.” he barks, pulling himself up into the saddle and digging in his heels.

Roach winnies and starts off under the light of the moon as Geralt steers her back to the main road.

If Geralt rides hard they could be back to the mountain in a day or two and he can track Jaskier from there. On foot the bard won’t have made it too far in three weeks, Geralt knows Jaskier prefers staying days or even weeks at a time in each town when Geralt isn’t with him. If he’s lucky he might be able to track him down in three or four days time.

He only hopes he won’t be collapsing from lack of sleep by then. He still has no idea how to treat his nightmares, should probably contact Triss or Yen about it before he goes mad, but Jaskier at least he knows how to find.

He has no idea what he can possibly say to the bard when he does, but even riding in the right direction makes him feel a little better. He just tries not to think about how long he’s been riding in the wrong one.

***

Jaskier has been bleeding for three weeks, but it’s the kind that no one else can see.

He bleeds into his lyrics, he bleeds into the notes he sings. Late at night he lays in bed, staring blankly at the wall of his inn room, feeling his sadness seep down into the sheets under him. Leaving him feeling hollow and cold.

The coin is good. People are moved by his music. The inn rooms are good. Paid for by the coin.

He supposed he could have found himself good company as well if he’d been able to look anyone in the eye.

Instead he is sitting outside in the dark. Alone. He sits under a tree near the empty market square of the town he’s been staying in for a week now, only the low flickering glow of hung lanterns to keep him company as he watches the night around him. It must be close to midnight, but he’s been sitting here since sunset, his lute laying silently in his lap, watching the night with him.

Because Jaskier does not know why it hurts so much, why being chased off by Geralt of Rivia has cut him to his very core in a way nothing else ever has. Especially since, despite the cheerful face he wears, Jaskier is no stranger to grief and disappointment.

Jaskier had longed after Geralt from the moment they met, back when he was practically still a child. They’d become good friends, despite what the Witcher often claimed, and Jaskier had always thought something was different about them. There must have been with the way Geralt allowed him closer and longer than anyone else in his life. Jaskier knew that Geralt cared about him underneath all of his emotional barriers, in recent years he’d even thought...had even suspected that...

Jaskier takes a slow, deep breath of the cool night air. He has been still so long that his body feels a step distant. As if he is merely a spirit watching invisibly with the trees as the night air brushes through the sparse grass in the empty marketplace. He wonders if this is how Geralt feels when he meditates.

He’ll never know now. Not now that Jaskier is finally realizing that it’s over. That he will no longer track down the Witcher, can never again follow behind him. Because if after all this time, after all these years, Geralt truly wants him gone...then Jaskier will finally give up.

So why does it feel like something deep inside of him has broken?

Jaskier watches as a figure makes its way down the street toward the square, a large man who is moving slowly. Jaskier watches with a detached kind of interest, this is simply the latest passerby to wander through the square this evening and Jaskier sits in the deep shadow of the tree, tucked safely out of sight.

But as the man moves closer Jaskier feels a prickle of unease. The man is moving more strangely than he’d realized, slowing every few steps as if...smelling the air...

Jaskier’s pulse quickens as his brain starts flipping through his mental catalogue of beasts and monsters, one that is quite extensive after decades of traveling with a witcher. He suddenly feels very foolish for indulging his dramatic side by staying out so late alone, his warm inn room with its lovely lockable door feels as if it is on the opposite side of the continent.

In the dark of the night Jaskier makes out the creature stopping, as if it can hear his pounding heart, and then Jaskier breaks into a cold sweat as whatever it is heads directly toward him, eyes reflecting unnaturally in the weak light of the lanterns.

Jaskier stumbles to his feet, clutching his lute in one hand and drawing his silver dagger with the other. A gift from Geralt he’s worn for the better part of twenty years now, having been taught to use it after a life on the road.

“Stay back.” Jaskier says in as clear a voice as he can manage, brandishing the dagger. “I’m armed with silver and I have no interest in a fight tonight. Take yourself elsewhere.”

The figure stops, hands held up. “Jaskier, it’s me.” Says an all too familiar voice.

Jaskier feels a raw place inside of him ache as Geralt cautiously edges a bit closer, enough to be illuminated by the light of a lantern.

Jaskier’s hand trembles on the dagger, and then he sheaths it. He turns and walks away without a word, feeling a clawing sense of deja vu as he walks toward his inn.

“Jaskier, please.” Geralt’s voice says, and of course the Witcher keeps up easily, walking by his side as Jaskier refuses to look at him.

After three weeks of bleeding he just doesn’t have anything left to give. He is drained, he can’t even look at Geralt.

“Jaskier-”

He jerks as he feels a hand close on his wrist. He feels tears start to prick in his eyes as he yanks his arm away, turning to look Geralt square in the face.

“Why are you here?” Jaskier demands, his voice nearly a snarl as he looks up at the witcher. “What do you want, Geralt?”

Geralt stops, looking stung. Good, as he should. The brute probably hasn’t even given what he did a second thought the whole time Jaskier’s felt like dying.

“You shouldn’t be out here alone.” Geralt says, sounding gruff and oddly off balance.

“Go back to whatever contract it is you’re working and leave me alone.” Jaskier snaps, struggling to keep down the hot tears he can feel rising. “I left, just like you wanted, alright? Now go.”

“I didn’t...I...” Geralt struggles for words, huffing in frustration as he rubs his face.

Jaskier can’t tell for sure in the dim light but he thinks he sees dark circles under the witcher’s eyes, as if he hasn’t been sleeping. He’s...never seen Geralt look this worn out before...

He swallows, trying his best to push away the concern rising in him as he starts to notice signs of distress all over Geralt. Bags under his eyes, his hair loose and unbrushed, armor dusty with hard travel but clean of the viscera that would mean he’d been getting work. Things that perhaps only Jaskier would notice.

“You didn’t what?” Jaskier asks, hating himself for still caring enough to be worried, his voice losing a bit of its heat.

“I didn’t...mean it.” Geralt says, his voice sounding a little hoarse as he gets the words out.

“Didn’t mean what?” Jaskier demands, folding his arms as tightly as he can, as if that will shield him from this distressed witcher who has tracked him down in the middle of the night. Who doesn’t look at all like he’s working a contract. Who looks as tired as Jaskier has felt for weeks.

“What I said.” Geralt says, swallowing as he looks away, as if unable to meet Jaskier’s gaze. “On the mountain. I was angry. I was unfair to you.”

Jaskier feels stunned, unable to say anything.

Geralt...is apologizing.

“I know I’m a terrible companion-” Geralt says, continuing in the silence.

“You are.” Jaskier says, his voice higher than it should be.

“But...everything feels wrong without you.” Geralt looks up, catching Jaskier’s gaze with his steady golden amber eyes. “I’m not good at this. I’m not good at words like you are Jaskier. But I’m sorry, I didn’t mean what I said.”

Geralt looks like he is biting the inside of his cheek, as if he’s scared. Jaskier has seen Geralt upset, uneasy, surprised, hesitant, even startled. But never scared, and he finds it scares him.

“I...” Geralt swallows, looking like he is bracing himself for something painful. “I need you Jaskier. And I know that I’ve made things so difficult, and I know that you have no reason to forgive me, but I don’t think I can pretend anymore that I...that I don’t care for you. Even if that means you might be in harm’s way. Because you’ve been by my side for decades, and I don’t want to continue without you.”

Jaskier feels as if the ground has dropped out from under his feet, as if he’s been slammed back against the wall behind him. His head is an overwhelming mess of fragmented thoughts and emotions, because what on earth is happening?

He presses a hand tight against his mouth as he turns away from Geralt, unable to handle his gaze a moment longer as he tries desperately to think, to pull together some of those words he’s so well known for. He can do this, he can come up with some scrappy, witty reply. He can shrug all of this off with a joke that will clear everything up and they’ll be on their way again.

Just like he has for the past twenty two years now.

But instead Jaskier’s chest shudders and he feels hot tears spill down his cheeks as he begins to cry. His shoulders tremble as he tries to stifle the emotion down behind the hand he has painfully tight against his mouth, his other arm still held against himself as if it could hold him together.

Because he’d thought he’d been bleeding for three weeks, in a way no one else could see, but suddenly he thinks perhaps he’s been bleeding for far longer than that...that perhaps he’s been bleeding for years. And he suddenly doesn’t know if that’s something he can go back to. Because Geralt says that he cares for him, which Jaskier knows for this vocabulary sparse witcher means love.

And if Geralt loves him, can Jaskier really chance losing himself entirely should things go wrong again? Because if he forgives Geralt this time, if he allows himself to want the witcher this time, Geralt will have all of him. Jaskier won’t be able to hold back, he knows it, he won’t be able to keep the vulnerable parts of himself safe anymore.

And that scares him more than he’s ever been scared in his life.

He braces his free hand against the wall as he shakes. It feels as if some secret part of him, some reservoir of extra years of sadness and longing and hurt he hadn’t known about have come loose, flooding him with an overwhelming wave of unexpected emotion. But where is it coming from? He wildly wonders if perhaps he is dying. Because this is what he imagines dying would feel like.

“Julian. I’m sorry.” Geralt says, his voice full of so much pain and concern that it makes Jaskier cry harder. He feels the faintest pressure ghost over his shoulder, as if Geralt had nearly reached out for him but then pulled back. “Do you want me to go? I’ll leave if you want me to. I’m sorry, I don’t, I didn’t mean....”

“Don’t!” Jaskier says, the word coming out in a teary panic. “Don’t leave.”

Because as much as he wants all of this to somehow disappear, even if he can’t bring himself to turn around just yet, the one thing he knows that will not be able to stand is if Geralt leaves him like this.

He bites his lip hard as he feels warm, hesitant hands on his arms. And then Geralt pulls him against him in a tight hug, arms wrapped around Jaskier’s chest protectively. Jaskier leans back against him, holding onto Geralt’s arms like a lifeline, fighting to get his breathing under control as the physical contact anchors him, somehow making everything seem less like it’s spinning out from under him. Geralt has never held Jaskier like this, but it still somehow feels familiar, it feels safe and right and has Jaskier wishing it could always like this.

“I’m sorry.” Geralt says again quietly, his voice right next to Jaskier’s ear. “I just don’t want to lose you.”

“I don’t want to lose you either,” Jaskier says, his breath finally under control. He feels a cool breeze sweep past them. “But it’s so hard to keep this up Geralt, I can’t stand only remembering how much I really love you when we’re asleep, when we’re waking it’s like-”

Jaskier’s breath catches as the same instant that Geralt’s does, memories of a wildflower field rushing through him. Years of friendship and love and trust revealing themselves like a flower unfurling. His fingers dig into Geralt’s arm in shock as the witcher’s embrace tightens almost painfully, because of course if Jaskier is remembering, they both are.

“W-we’re awake.” Jaskier chokes. He turns in Geralt’s arms, looking up at him. “We’re awake.”

“We’re awake.” Geralt says, his voice thin with shocked wonder.

“We’re awake!” Jaskier cries, throwing his arms around Geralt’s neck as his tears begin anew. But this time he is laughing through them as Geralt crowds him up against the wall, kissing him hard and desperate.

“I haven’t slept in a week.” Geralt says between kisses, his voice raw with emotion as his hands roam Jaskier’s body, as if checking to make sure it’s really him. “I thought I’d lost you, the field, it’s all ripped up, I didn’t know where you’d gone.”

“I’m sorry.” Jaskier gasps, carding his fingers through Geralt’s white hair even as he pulls him closer. “I’m sorry Geralt, I was so hurt and angry, I couldn’t stand it anymore when I didn’t think you cared anymore. But you’re here, we’re both here and we’re awake and we remember. You really want me with you then? If we both remember?”

“I’ve always wanted you with me little lark, I just took too long to realize it.” Geralt says, burying his face against Jaskier’s neck and breathing in his scent.

“I can’t believe we aren’t trapped in that wretched field anymore.” Jaskier says giddily, nuzzling against Geralt’s temple as he runs his hands down the witcher’s sides, just because he can. “We can get something to eat together, we can see a sunset, we can sleep in a bed, we can be around other people.” His eyes light up. “I have my lute! I can play you songs instead of only singing!”

“We’ve already done all of those things.” Geralt says with a fond smile, kissing stray tears off of Jaskier’s face.

“But now we can really do them. Together. Because we’re finally both here.” Jaskier says, taking Geralt’s face in his hands and kissing him softly.

“I’m sorry it took me so long.” Geralt says, eyes closed as he rests his forehead against Jaskier’s. “I’m sorry I hurt you, little lark.”

“Hush. No more apologizing.” Jaskier says, stroking his thumb against Geralt’s cheek, his heart flutters as the witcher leans into his touch. “This is all I’ve ever wanted, you’ve already given me the best proof you can that you really mean it.”

“What do we even do now?” Geralt says with a chuckle, shaking his head a bit with a smile. ��We won’t fade away in less than an hour, what do people even do with so much time together?”

Jaskier smiles as the witcher’s last last words are drowned in an enormous yawn. He wraps his arms around Geralt’s neck, gently kissing down the side of his throat.

“First you are going to carry me back to the inn and we are going to sleep until tomorrow evening because you look ready to fall over, darling.” Jaskier says softly. “And when we wake up we’ll still be together, and we will still remember we are together.”

“Mmmm.” Geralt hums appreciatively, hoisting Jaskier up into his arms with little effort. “And then?”

“I’m sure we’ll think of something to occupy ourselves.” Jaskier says, resting a hand on Geralt’s chest and leaning up to bite at his lower lip. “I’ve got some very time consuming ideas we can try. I have the room paid for through the end of the week, fresh heartbreak sells very well you know.”

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” Geralt says soberly, holding him closer as he begins to walk toward the inn.

“You already have.” Jaskier says softly, resting his head against Geralt’s shoulder.

There are so many things that must still be discussed, how this changes things. But Jaskier can’t find himself quite caring at the moment, instead closing his eyes he basks in the warm feeling.

Because he feels that he is home. A home that he will finally never have to leave again.

#the witcher #geralt #jaskier #dandelion #geraskier #wit writes #apparently my 'oh let me write a quick little thing' ideas come in 500 words or 10k #no inbetween #I wanted to see if I could make a soulmate au that had plausible reasons for not recognizing each other right away instead of relying #on bad communication #and here we is #and geraskier weeks has been so fun to read I figure I might as well throw mine into the ring too

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kelpiemomma · 4 years

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a little more geraskier beauty and the beast i guess??

this got long so it’s 99% under the cut

►Yennefer was actually able to figure out during the first stay of Geralt and Jaskier (it was three days long, and Jaskier had never felt more like a piece of meat before) that Jaskier didn’t have just one curse on him. The whole of him was too intricate, so she wasn’t able to help much beyond telling Geralt to come back for longer next time. When they did come back, a few months later with no other news on Jaskier’s curse, she discovered that it was three separate curses- one to take away his voice, one to take away his ability to play the lute, and one to take away his looks. Three separate curses from three separate people all forced onto one person. That’s part of why she said true love’s kiss could break the curse- because something so pure could cancel it all out. Otherwise she would have needed to use some very valuable, rare herbs and conduits in order to fix Jaskier and that... would’ve been too much work when she could see what was right before her eyes.

►Cursed Jaskier is a good few inches taller than Geralt, but he’s still not as wide. He’s covered in fur from head to toe, has claws on both his hands and his feet (which are more like paws, there), has a thick ruff of fur on his neck. There are ears on top of his head, the most pathetic excuse for a tail coming out of his spine, and his face looks like a bear and a wolf had a child and then tried to smother it. There’s something not quite unlike a muzzle but still not a muzzle on his face, his eyes are just a bit too sharp to be human, but too round to be animal, and it’s like the tip of his nose can’t decide if it’s muzzle or human. Jaskier refuses to look into any mirrors.

►Jaskier literally cannot go into any town when he’s cursed. No matter how well they try to hide him, something gives him away whether it’s a hand (claw) accidentally showing, or him trying to speak (and the fact that his voice sounds like a literal growl? not helping), or that one time a child grabbed his cloak and yoinked it off of him. Jaskier bemoans to Geralt that the curse wasn’t just against his body, it was against his ability to be comfortable (and he’s honestly probably onto something there). Geralt ignores him (mostly) but knows that it bothers Jaskier more than he likes to admit. For one, Geralt knows it’s been years since Jaskier was in an actually, truly comfortable place to sleep. For another, he would like to bathe in warm water once in a while and leaving Jaskier to sleep alone in the outside of town is asking for a second monster hunt. Jaskier always pretends he’s fine and puts on a fine show of not being bothered that he can’t go into town, but by the way that he bothers Geralt for information on the goings-on when Geralt returns, it’s clear that he misses human communication and the intricacies of human nature. Realizing this actually gets Geralt to open up a bit more - or at least talk more - because besides Yennefer (who’s iffy with communication at Best), he’s the only person Jaskier has any communication with. →The first time Jaskier goes into a town after the curse is broken, he’s nervous as hell. He’s gotten so used to being driven out of towns that even though he knows he’s cured, he’s still afraid that he’s going to suddenly sprout fur and fangs and claws again and be chased out. He’s got a death grip on his lute the entire way to the inn. When he and Geralt manage to get a room, he barely manages to make it to their room before he’s crying in relief that they actually made it and that he’s still human. Geralt offers him an awkward shoulder pat because... just ‘cause they love each other doesn’t mean he’s gotten better at reassuring Jaskier of anything.

►Roach actually doesn’t mind Jaskier, even when he’s furry. The first few days were a bit rough because she’s a Witcher’s horse, that’s a monster, why are they not killing it?? Jaskier plies her with sweet grasses and fruits from trees, and then she becomes quite fond of him. Geralt makes exactly one (1) “she probably thinks you’re related with all the fur” joke before Jaskier’s moping (and Roach’s intentional tripping over every stone and hole in the road) make him apologize (”i think you’re closer in relation to a mole rat, actually” “was that... supposed to make me feel better?” “less fur.” “...thanks?”). The fact that Jaskier can climb trees to get her treats makes her more fond of him. →When Jaskier sees Roach again as a human, she’s like “what the hell” and it takes her a minute to reconcile the human to the formerly cursed fuzzy thing. She tends to be a bit more protective of Jaskier after, because she recognizes that he no longer has claws and fangs to protect him. Geralt notices it (and approves), Jaskier just thinks she likes him more now that he’s human.

►Jaskier has different strengths during and post curse. While he was cursed, he had fur to increase his defense and warmth in cold climates, and fangs and claws that he could attack monsters with. He’s not a fighter by any means but he wasn’t useless. The first time Geralt gets attacked after the curse is lifted, Jaskier almost rushes in to help, forgetting that he’s squishy and vulnerable again. Roach is the one that keeps him from charging in. After the curse, though, he’s able to charm his way into dinner, a room, and a bath for him and Geralt in almost every inn they visit. Geralt misses his (meager) backup, but privately thinks that being able to bathe more often is a worthy trade-off. Jaskier honestly just luxuriates in warm water. →There was one incident where, while Jaskier was cursed, Geralt found himself surrounded by wargs and being overwhelmed. Y’all remember that scene in Beauty and the Beast where Belle ran from the castle and got hunted down by wolves and then the Beast comes out of nowhere, roaring and tossing wolves until they run?? Yeah, that’s this. Jaskier sees Geralt in trouble and doesn’t even think about trying to run away, he runs straight into the fray. He’s not broad like the Beast was, is actually quite lean, but he’s still cursed and a monster, he’s got strength and sharp claws and vicious fangs that even Geralt doesn’t have. He roars at the wargs, enough to frighten some of them away, and fights off the others. He does end up severely injured, though, and while Geralt heals quickly, Jaskier does not. Cue relationship building while they tend each other’s injuries.

►It takes Jaskier a while to re-accustom himself to playing the lute and singing. For so long all he could do was snap strings and warble like a dying dove, he has to practice for hours to get his fingers to cooperate like they used to, and to recover the range and air capacity he used to have. He sings a lot when they travel, which he claims helps pass the time, but whenever Geralt gets grumpy about it Jaskier also points out that a, it’s helping him work on his air supply and b, he went for decades without singing, Geralt, you can deal with his joy for a little while longer

►After the curse is broken, Jaskier realizes that though he was cursed at roughly 20, and that it’s been at least two decades if not three that he’s been cursed, he hasn’t aged much if any. This actually causes him to panic and practically climb Geralt in an attempt to run to Yennefer to check and see if he’s still cursed or not. Geralt calms him down (some), they get back to Yenn, and it turns out that the strength of the curse lingers a bit. Jaskier ages much, much slower now, and heals much, much quicker. Yenn offers to fix it for him but Jaskier declines- he’s going to take this second chance, thank you very much.

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #beauty and the beast au #just some ramblings about this au #honestly idk about ALL of this but it's whats coming to mind rn

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starrose17 · 4 years

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How about a geraskier Battlestar Galactica 2004 AU? No matter what fandom I’m in I ALWAYS resort to a BSG!AU. Cos there is so much angsty love potential (warning for a bit of non-con too).

Jaskier is a singer brought up from Caprica to perform on the Galactica in her retirement ceremony. He’s dating Geralt whose a Viper pilot, and the CAG, and doesn’t know Jaskier is arriving, everyone’s been grinning and keeping it secret from him as they haven’t seen each other for a few months with Geralt being on duty here.

Geralt is doing a flyby for the ceremony and is only listening in on Adama’s speech and entertainment through his viper (I reckon older!Ciri is a viper pilot too, took her under his wing when she first signed up. And hell let’s make Yen one too, ex-wife, but remaining good friends). He hears Jaskier start to sing and suddenly Ciri and the others are teasing him over the radio as he tries not to grin at hearing his loves voice (the others being the other witchers).

Back on the Galactica Jaskier hurries to Geralt’s quarters where he and the others are drinking in celebration. As soon as Jaskier arrives everyone starts wolf whistling as Jaskier leaps in Geralts arms and kisses him deeply, and Geralt is just raising his middle finger to everyone as Jaskier kisses him and then tells them all to fuck out his cabin, he has a thorough ravishing of a welcome to attend to.

“You didn’t tell me you were performing here.”

Jaskier grins, “That would be the point of a surprise.”

Geralt then fucks him senseless after two months of not seeing him, and its all love and cuddles and wonderfulness and then of course, the cylons attack.

(The rest under the cut because this got bloody long.)

Throughout the chaos as the plot goes on Geralt proposes to him, but before they can get married Jaskier shoots Adama, because he’s the sleeper agent cylon here and has no idea. His plot basically follows Boomers.

Starbuck tries to torture information out of him (like she did with Leoben in the series, trying to drown him etc), and Jaskier insists he is not a cylon he can’t be it’s not possible and is freaking out and just constantly asking to see Geralt. But Geralt won’t see him, Geralt is having his own crisis, of how could he have been fucking a cylon all this time?! And not fucking him but...he loved him, and it made him feel sick and furious and fool for being led on. At this stage he’s too blinded by anger and humiliation to realise of course he still loves him completely, but he’s gonna realise that too late.

Starbuck continues to painfully interrogate Jaskier, and in the end in tears Jaskier says, “If you were told, right now, that you were really a cylon. Would you suddenly know all their secrets? Would you know everything about them? I don’t know anything!!! Please...stop hurting me...”

Getting nothing out of him it’s decided to throw him out the airlock, and he’s terrified and shaking as he stands there all alone as the others watch the through the glass window into the control room.

“Any last words?”

And he just stands there, hands and feet still cuffed, and he starts to sing. His voice is small and terrified, but he’d always sung, and the song he sings is one he wrote for Geralt, back when they first met, he wants his last thoughts to be of the happier time, and not one where Geralt can’t even bare to come and see him. And the doors open, and Jaskier is sucked out.

The fleet jumps away, and it’s just Jaskier frozen body alone in space, until a cylon baseship FTL’s in, and suddenly a new Jaskier in a new body is gulping lungfuls of new air as he fights his way out of that goopy liquid and bolts upright, surrounded by others cylons, and just looses his mind that he really is a cylon.

Back in the fleet time has passed and the Pegasus had arrived, boasting of capturing their own cylon agent and keeping him prisoner on board. They’ve got a lot out of him but still need more, and they specially request Geralt. Geralt wonders why on earth they want him, he has been depressed and angry and moping ever since Jaskier, and no one really trusts him because of who Jaskier was, so this was a chance to prove he really was human.

As they take him on board the officers are joking on how much they’ve tortured this one, making into a game, starving it, forcing themselves on it, after all its just a ‘toaster’ you can’t rape metal, laughing at how real and good it feels though. Geralt is turning his nose up at this feeling bad for this cylon already, they’d all seen how human these models are, perhaps they did feel pain.

They take him into the same cell as in the show, the white room with the glass large glass wall, and in the middle of the floor lays another Jaskier model, wearing nothing but a white bedshirt that barely covers his arse, and Geralt stares. There are bruises everywhere, arms, neck...thighs...his wrists are red raw, he’s thin and broken and already shaking in absolute terror at the sight of the officers. His blue eyes are wide and red and filled with agony and a wish for death.

Geralt is so shocked he can’t even move, he can’t think of anything but his own Jaskier, he can’t see anyone but his own Jaskier, and he’s filled with anger. But, he goes in with a tray of food that they gave him, and promises him he wont hurt him, hating how this Jaskier tries to curl in on himself as though waiting for a beating immediately. Geralt put the tray near him on the floor, and then backs away, sitting against the glass wall as the officers leave them alone.

“It’s not a trick,” Geralt said quietly, hot tears threatening in his own eyes, “I’m not going to take it away at the last second. It’s yours. I’m just going to sit here. You don’t have to say anything. I’m just going to be here with you.”

And slowly, very very slowly, a thin hand and a thin wrists edges its way cautiously forward, taking a single slice of apple and quickly bringing it back to his mouth, taking small, tiny bites, as though wanting to savour it not knowing it he’d be allowed to take another.

This plot follows the series, so this Jaskier, with Geralt’s help, eventually blows up the Pegasus killing himself as well, because no matter how much Geralt helped him, told him of his own Jaskier, he couldn’t live with that they’d done to him. It’s never traced back to Geralt for helping, and life goes on, except Geralt has a new sympathy. He’s not on the cylons side don’t get him wrong, he never would be, but perhaps there was a way of working together, to stop all this killing.

HIS Jaskier, the one in the the new body, comes aboard Galactica with some other models to do exactly that, a truce, and no one was expecting him, and Jaskier cautiously gets off the raptor looking around at all these people he knew, and he locks eyes with Geralt, and Geralt can’t breath, because he sees the recognition in Jaskier’s eyes. It was his Jaskier. A(n already) long story short Geralt apologises so much for not being there for him, and Jaskier is understanding, he was revealed to be a cylon after all, oh he’s still hurt, terribly hurt, but Geralt just holds him and tells him all this time without him has been hell the things he’s seen he just wants this all to stop and he loves him he loves him so much and will he please, please, “Marry me, please, I still want to if you do.”

Jaskier starts crying in the first happiness he’s felt for ages and they make love and it feels like home again. Except the “truce” is a lie, unknown to Jaskier, and they all get arrested. Alone in his cell some of the guards decide to take a leaf out of the Pegasus book and go in with their hands on their trousers and have the terrified Jaskier bent over the desk before Geralt suddenly walks in and fuck everyone is dead in seconds as he bashes their brains in against the walls and he takes Jaskier’s hand and they run and go into hiding together.

And yeah, I dunno, somehow Jaskier becomes a key player in taking down a cylon baseship with Geralt’s help (perhaps what boomer did with the bomb but was aware of doing it unlike her) and he’s sort of welcomed back, by Adama himself. People still find it hard to trust, and he has to do everything he can to prove he is on the human side (when the virus attacks the firewall system he attaches the lead into his arm to help like Boomer did), but yeah, they get married and Ciri and Yen and the others who knows him and know Jaskier are the first the properly welcome Jaskier back, and it’s a little family and Jaskier is so happy and they all work together to try and stop the war.

#geraskier

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jaskierswolf · 3 years

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Hello lovely! How about some sad feelings? 13. the hug to hide your tears and 17 the goodbye hug from the prompt list? <3 Im sorry and thank you!

I chose geraskier!

CW: hurt/comfort sad times

Parting was such sweet sorrow.

That’s what the poets say, and Jaskier should know because he was a poet, a bard, a troubadour of the highest renown. He was famed all across the Continent and was beloved by all. Well, almost all, sort of… there was a slight chance that he had just as many enemies as fans but really who was counting? The point was Oxenfurt had absolutely demanded that he return this winter, otherwise he would be kissing his teaching position and rather lovely salary goodbye. The worst part was he’d been requested to teach for three whole fucking years, and the board had made it quite clear that he couldn’t refuse.

Sure there was a chance he could still see Geralt during summer, or on the off chance that a contract lured his friend to Oxenfurt, but it wasn’t the same. Jaskier was a bird that longed to fly free, and his wings were being clipped. Oxenfurt, a city he truly did adore, was becoming his golden cage.

And Geralt was leaving him to spend the winter months with his brothers, Jaskier’s dearest friends. It wasn’t fucking fair. Jaskier longed to join him, to spend a few lazy months drinking too much, eating too much, fucking too much, and lounging in front of the great fire as they shared stories of the year. It had been his winter home for the last two years and he was bitterly letting Geralt return alone.

So here they stood, at the crossroads, both metaphorically and literally, Geralt leaving him to continue north whilst Jaskier would head west. Typically, it was raining, reflecting Jaskier’s mood quite nicely, grey, gloomy and sodden. His boots were soaked through and squelching with every step, his hair sticking to his forehead, and he was bloody freezing. The rain was almost snow, cold as ice against his skin, but gods, what he wouldn’t give to be staying by Geralt’s side up that ruthless mountain, instead of fleeing to the warmth of Oxenfurt.

He ached, deep in his chest, a lump forming in his throat as he stared pitifully at his best friend. Jaskier wiped his nose, his soaked clothing doing nothing to dry his face. Even though the rain was washing away his tears, Jaskier knew he was crying. He could feel it and he had no doubt that Geralt could smell the salt, if not the pathetic waves of misery he was surely giving out.

That didn’t stop him from pulling Geralt into a tight hug, a defence mechanism he’d learnt from an early age.

Never let them see you cry, Julian. Never let them know what you truly feel inside.

His father, cruel as he was, has at least taught him something useful. So Jaskier’s feelings were only ever hidden in rhymes and song, never to be revealed so openly as tears. He swallowed as he hooked his chin over Geralt’s shoulder, fingers digging into the creases of the armour.

“See you around, Geralt,” Jaskier mumbled, feeling proud when his voice didn’t crack.

He patted Geralt on the back and pulled away, adjusting his lute on his back and turning before Geralt could see his face. He didn’t want to see the disappointment in those gorgeous golden eyes.

Tag list undercut:

@geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde, @comfyswitcherblanketfort, @fontegagrilledcheese, @dani-dandelino, @dapandapod @unyielding-as-the-sea @officerjennie @feraljaskier @geralt-of-riviass @kueble @gilberik

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier pankratz #wolfie’s witcher writing

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yoursummerfrost · 4 years

Note

so like... im nosy and so... 1-20 on the fic ask prompt? lol

Aaaah this is amazing haha thanks for being nosy! I’ll skip the ones I’ve answered elsewhere, altho I love sharing teasers so I’ll do extras of those :) Putting this under a read more :)

2. What’s next on your ‘to-read’ list? (Fan fiction or otherwise) I really do wanna read all The Witcher novels, and I had to render it transparent recc’d to me and it looks really good :D

3. Do you prefer canonverse or AUs? Depends on the fandom ! For Lucifer, I strongly prefer canonverse--I just have a hard time picturing them in other situations? But for the Witcher I’m more of a mix. I hate writing historical fantasy, even though I keep subjecting myself to it xD But I love reading it!

4. What fandom’s/ship’s fan fiction do you read the most? I’ve read more bittyparse/pb&j than anything haha, but I don’t read for OMGCP anymore. Right now I’m really just reading a handful of Witcher fics spread across geraskier and geraskefer. I don’t typically read a lot of fic when I’m intensely writing tbh.

6. What’s the last thing you read that made you laugh? Recognition by Castillon02!

7. What’s the last thing you read that made you cry? another dawn by alittlebitmaybe ripped my heart out but it’s fine(:

8. Bed sharing or roommates AU? *slamming fists on table* ROOMMATES! ROOMMATES! ROOMMATES!

9. Fake dating or arranged marriage? I fucking love fake dating so much, I can’t even tell you.

11. Kid fic or childhood friends? Childhood friends all the way. In theory I don’t really like kid fic, but I keep writing it anyway?

14. (For authors) Post a line of dialogue from one of your WIPs without context. Y’all have no idea how badly I wanna provide,,, even a little context lmfao

"I don't care how nutritious they are," Jaskier tells Geralt, who is tapping very insistently on a deeply boring agricultural guidebook. "Beets are not sexy and we're not planting them!"

15. Post the last line you wrote without context.

If he had to snap out of this, go back to town right now, he'd have to understand something besides death again.

16. Describe your WIP that currently has the highest word count. Mm, how to describe this fic. The working title was “ghostie geralt bc i’ve lost control of my life” which I think sums it up xD But on a thematic level, I wanted to write something that celebrated being at a crossroads of life outside of the traditional “coming of age” narrative’s timeframe. That we can continue to grow and find new places of belonging at any stage, and that we can cherish life for what it’s given us even when it wasn’t what we’d imagined.

17. Describe a fic that is still in the ‘ideas’ stage. After I finish part 3 of bartender AU (which is in the WIP stage and introduces Ciri), I really wanna write a part 4 where Eskel and Lambert--who in this ‘verse attended “problem child horse camp” with Geralt back in the day--decide to visit their buddy Geralt in the city. Hi-jinks ensue as Geralt is forced to reconcile his old life with his current happiness. The person he was when he met Eskel and Lambert never could have imagined this life! What will his old friends think of him now? Etc.

18. Do you have a fic reading/writing routine? My goal for myself is to generally write at least 1k per day. I write using Google docs and will write on my phone between meetings at school/work, and I’ll also write in the evenings. At night, I re-read my outline for my current project to remind myself what I want to flesh out next, and then as I’m falling asleep I daydream about the fic in my head so that hopefully I already know what I wanna write the next day in relative detail.

19. What’s your favorite character headcanon? Oh God, so many. The first thing that came to mind was Dan (from Lucifer) as a lapsed Catholic who, like, never really stopped believing in God, he just stopped feeling like he was the kind of person that God would like. Which is why he’s more receptive to finding out Lucifer is, y’know, Lucifer, compared to say, an atheist.

20. Do you have a favorite fanfic or author? If so, tag them/post a link and share the love! I feel like I rec @blithelybonny and @soundslikepenance like once a week and by God I’ll continue to do so xD

Also, I think about Food of Love by @wallatile-qvibbler all the goddamn time.

#about me #fic recs #asightea

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lesdemonium · 4 years

Text

I’d Be the Choiceless Hope

Ship: Geraskier Word count: 3278 Chapter: 1/16

Summary:

“Such a nice, beautiful sound,” the fae crooned. “If only he were this way always.”

Julian’s mother stood up. She claimed she was prepared to stop the fae, to protect her baby, but in Julian’s darkest moments he doubted this part of the story. His mother loved him, of that he had no doubt, but she had been young and weary, and even years later, she couldn’t quite get the twinge of exhaustion out of her eyes when she recalled Julian’s infancy. Even if she had been keen on protecting him, the fae was too close, too fast, too set on his plan.

“A gift, for the new mother,” the fae continued. He leaned a hand in to stroke Julian’s cheek. “I give you the gift of obedience.”

As a baby, Jaskier was visited by a fae, who gifted Jaskier's mother with Jaskier's obedience. As Jaskier grew older, the "gift" became more of a curse.

Additional tags: AngstAngst with a Happy EndingHeavy AngstUnrequited LoveNot Actually Unrequited LoveAlternate Universe - Canon DivergenceCanon EraNot Canon CompliantCursed Jaskier | DandelionAlternate Universe - Ella Enchanted FusionCurse of ObedienceRape/Non-con ElementsImplied/Referenced Rape/Non-conJaskier | Dandelion Whump

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Julian had always been a willful child. He supposed he hadn’t had much of a choice--it was either be willful, or lose himself completely. Obedience had been thrust upon him far too early for him to have truly grown into his own person, so it was possible that had it not been for the “gift” he would have been more docile. But a wayward “gift” to his mother, bestowed upon by a fae that was either too short-sighted to see the consequences or too apathetic and annoyed to care, had shaped his life irreversibly.

His mother didn’t like to tell the story. She had been powerless against it and it had happened too fast for her to take any action. Julian had been a colicky baby, crying all hours of the day and night, and his parents were exhausted. Maybe the fae hadn’t been evil, exactly, but he had been vexed enough by Julian’s constant screaming to slip into the backyard. His mother had been so caught up with the blessed silence as Julian finally slept that she hadn’t noticed the fae until he was looming over Julian’s cradle.

“Such a nice, beautiful sound,” the fae crooned. “If only he were this way always.”

“A gift, for the new mother,” the fae continued. He leaned a hand in to stroke Julian’s cheek. “I give you the gift of obedience.”

Julian began to cry then, the touch waking him. Julian knew it was impossible, but he could almost remember the way the fae’s face had contorted in anger. His beautiful features melted into something ugly, cruel, as he leaned in even closer.

“Be quiet,” the fae told Julian, and his cries stopped. “Sleep.” His eyes closed.

The fae stood up again and bowed to his mother, though her horrified look had given him pause. “You will thank me, in time,” the fae said, then disappeared back to his own home.

Julian grew. At first, he did not realize that things were different for him. He couldn’t remember when he noticed that his mother spoke carefully to him, considering her words, while his father did not. When he was young, he thought everyone did exactly what was bidden of them, the moment it was requested. Surely every child did what was commanded with no hesitation; that was just the power of adults.

It had made him clever, though. Even if he didn’t know what was going on, why sometimes his body moved of its own accord, Julian had quickly learned how to find himself in the gray areas. He latched onto vague statements with far more insolent insistence than most young children his age would have, much to his father’s fury. When the elder Pankratz told him to sit down and shut up, Julian obeyed, but rather than sitting in his seat and staying silent, he’d land himself down on the floor at his father’s feet, and start humming. Often his father disciplined Julian, quite brutally, for causing his father to trip, but still Julian found pride in himself.

“You are a willful, stubborn boy,” his father declared time and time again. Julian did not understand why having a mind of his own was something worthy of punishment, but Julian supposed his father would always look at him and see something that needed straightening out. “You are unfit of your title and a disappointment to this family.”

His father did not know the boon he had been given, and as such did not take full advantage. It was a small mercy Julian’s mother had granted him.

HIs mother didn’t tell Julian until he was nine. She probably never would have told him, if she could help it. However, after a tutor had unwittingly made Julian practice until he had ruined his favorite lute with his own blood, she must have decided that her weeping son should at least know why he had been unable to stop.

“I don’t understand,” Julian said, and even in his memory, he sounded unbelievably small. “Can’t we fix this? Ask the faery to take it back?”

She shook her head, and Julian felt, for the first time, a pit of dread settle in his stomach. Somehow, he knew that feeling would stay with him. She had made some excuse, something about not knowing where to find the fae, not wanting to anger it for being ungrateful for Julian’s “gift,” but even then Julian knew the truth. She was afraid. Julian had managed to be an insolent child, even with his curse. How much worse would he be if he had true free will?

To his mother’s credit, she did her best to retain his freedom, at first. Every once in a while, though, she slipped. And every so often, Julian caught the glint in her eyes as she “slipped.” The slips became more and more frequent as Julian grew older.

By the time he was a teenager, he had truly mastered his willfulness. Even his mother had difficulty finding ways to effectively command him, though any attempts at holding herself back were a thing of the past. She would first try gently to guide him into whatever she wanted. When he refused, in his own ways, her lips would purse, and more and more frequently she took to flat-out ordering him. If she saw the fury in his eyes, she did not comment on it. She only offered a prim “Thank you, Julian,” as he acquiesced. He recognized the warning for what it was, but rarely took heed.

Julian’s tutors lavished compliments upon the family for Julian’s hard work and the ruthlessness he used to tackle even the most complicated of tasks. Julian found a way to have pride in this; he did enjoy his music lessons, at least. His other lessons were useful, he supposed. History made ballads rich, though all he had written felt flat. Mathematics, etiquette, politics--all were useful, in their ways.

The nobility that visited the family for balls, banquets, and as house-guests praised his manners and his eagerness to please, and did not notice (or simply didn’t care about) the way Julian’s teeth clenched as he bit out a “Yes, right away,” at their every request. He was a lapdog, and nothing more. Julian caught the pride in his parents eyes as they, too, recognized this.

He approached manhood with a gracefulness unparalleled in other aspects of his life. Before long Julian turned the heads of the lords and ladies around him, and it didn’t take much longer for his own head to be turned in their direction. In some ways, his curse wasn’t horrible. In some ways, it could be used to his advantage.

Julian quickly gained a reputation. His partners found his obedience thrilling and arousing. Julian had become an expert in reading people, and used this gift to his advantage. He left his partners satisfied and wanting, though he rarely came back for more. Julian fell hard and fast for everyone he met, but he knew there was no one he could keep. Sooner or later, someone stumbled upon his “gift” and while they never understood it for what it was, they always mistook his obedience for wanting. After all, if he didn’t want to do what they ordered, couldn’t he just say no? They didn’t know the power in their hands.

He learned, quickly, to direct his affections on young women, who were often meeker, less likely to order him about in bed, and delighted at the simplest demonstration of his obedience. Women in power, however, had to be considered carefully. Men in power were worse. Julian often had to steer clear of the men at his parents banquets that gazed at him hungrily. Unluckily, this often steered him in the direction of noble ladies, thrilled at having a young man half their age in their bed, and accustomed to barking out orders to those around them.

Some people were just dangerous. On some of his more poetic days, he described the look in their eyes as red . Red was dangerous, red was consuming, red was hungry. Red was something he steered clear of, as much as he could. It didn’t matter if they knew, they never truly did, but those laced with red always found it. Their keen eyes sought out anything they could exploit, and Julian was a delicacy to their desire.

Julian was young, far too young, when he took his leave of Lettenhove.

Julian didn’t tell anyone he was leaving. He packed up his things one day and he left for Oxenfurt, intent on becoming a bard. Asking his parents would have been a waste of time; they would have said no, his mother might have even ordered him to stay in Lettenhove. That wasn’t a chance Julian was willing to take. He found, in his life in particular, it was often best to forgo asking permission at all. If no one knew his desires, they couldn’t take them away from him.

It was in Oxenfurt that he reinvented himself.

“What is your name?” they had asked him as he enrolled, and Julian hesitated.

“Jaskier,” he answered, drawing from a pet name a lover had called him, a year or so prior. Though everyone he told raised an eyebrow at the name, no one questioned him. He couldn’t completely leave behind Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount of Lettenhove, as that name and title was what had admitted him to Oxenfurt’s university in the first place. But there was power in a name.

For a time, it even worked to throw off the curse.

“Jaskier, demonstrate your scales,” a professor told him, and though Jaskier rose to play, he was delighted to discover that it was of his own volition. Nothing compelled him, he didn’t have to fight the urge to shoot straight up at the order. He was shaking with excitement, though his years of practicing beyond the point of pain meant his scales were flawless, as always.

He was drunk with his own freedom, for a time. It didn’t last. Soon, Jaskier was just as effective as Julian in gaining his compliance. It was worth it, though, for the taste of freedom he had. Jaskier allowed him to create a new life, one far away from the one he had left behind. The pit of dread in his stomach shrunk, and soon Jaskier almost felt happiness .

He found Valdo in his classes. Jaskier was so caught up in his freedom, he forgot that he didn’t have the luxury of carelessness. He missed the red. This time, it wasn’t in Valdo’s eyes, which were soft, lazy things, that trailed over Jaskier like he had all the time in the world. Valdo watched Jaskier as if he were a piece of art; something to examine and interpret and find a deeper meaning in. Jaskier had spent so much time being lonely, he basked in the attention, and did not recognize it for what it truly was: jealousy.

Jaskier impressed the professors. He was on his way to renown, rising above even Valdo, who had been the jewel of Oxenfurt for so long. Jaskier was flattered when Valdo deigned to give Jaskier his attentions. He was foolish to believe they did not come at a price.

His words were sweet as the honeyed wine he supplied Jaskier with as they moved their conversation first to a tavern, and then to Valdo’s own apartment. Jaskier found himself in Valdo’s bed willingly. They didn’t put words to their attachment, but everyone knew that Jaskier was Valdo’s.

The red was in his hands. The way he clutched Jaskier tightly enough to leave behind marks, like he wanted Jaskier to stay, right there, right where Valdo wanted him. The way Valdo touched him left Jaskier feeling both empty and wanting, in a way he couldn’t put to words, though he tried, desperately, to put it into a melody. Still, Jaskier stayed. He wanted to be wanted, he wanted to be loved, and Valdo could almost give that to him, he was sure of it.

“My songbird,” Valdo called him, and Jaskier should have known from the way his blood ran cold.

The day he realized what was wrong was unremarkable.

“Jaskier,” Valdo said from the bed.

Jaskier tilted his head, letting Valdo know he was paying attention, but he didn’t move from his desk. He was close, so close, to finishing this song. It wasn’t great, he knew that, but it was something. It was a start. One day he would have grand adventures, and these trite and somewhat juvenile love songs he wrote for Valdo (or anyone else that struck his fancy) would be a thing of the past.

“Jaskier, look at me,” Valdo insisted, sounding impatient.

Jaskier immediately turned. Usually, he steeled himself against outright commands, even simple ones like that. Most people didn’t notice the tension he held in his body as he resisted, but the moment of hesitation made it seem as if he was doing it of his own volition. He raised his eyebrow at Valdo.

“Come to bed.”

Jaskier stood, abandoning his work, and tried not to let the disappointment read on his face as he joined Valdo. There was something in Valdo’s look, but Jaskier couldn’t tell yet what it was. Nevertheless, the pit in his stomach made itself known.

“Take off your shirt.” His voice was disinterested, as if getting Jaskier out of his clothes was only a secondary goal.

“Someone’s feeling bossy,” Jaskier teased, trying to bring levity back to himself. He smirked, but Valdo’s lips did not quirk back.

“You are delightfully obedient, aren’t you?” Valdo murmured as Jaskier’s chemise fell to the floor. “Would you do anything I asked? Tell me the truth.”

Jaskier paused. “No,” he answered, and it was only half a lie. He wouldn’t do anything Valdo asked . He would do anything Valdo commanded .

Valdo’s eyebrows raised, and he scoffed. “Really? I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say no before. You’re so quick to follow directions. You stand when you’re told, you parrot things back beautifully, you even handed that spoiled first year your precious lute the moment he asked it of you.” He paused, considering Jaskier’s face. Jaskier was no longer smiling. Instead, he furrowed his eyebrows, trying to determine where this was going. “I’ve been watching you. You take orders like no one I’ve ever met, despite how contrary you are otherwise. Tell me, do you enjoy being ordered about?”

“No.” The word flew out of him.

“And yet you do it.” He paused again, and Jaskier’s apprehension grew. “Touch your nose.”

Jaskier tried to resist, he really did. But it was such a simple command, and he was so unprepared for it, that he lost control after only a second. Valdo looked delighted.

“That’s very interesting. Kiss me.”

It went on like this for over an hour. Jaskier tried to resist, but there really was only so much he could do when he was faced with short, direct commands. Resisting was exhausting and painful, and made his body ache as if he had performed some laborious task. So he submitted. Let Valdo order him around like he was a show pony, and each time Valdo looked more and more delighted. Jaskier felt more and more hollow.

“You’re such a good little songbird, aren’t you?” Valdo asked when they were finished, naked and panting beside each other. Jaskier said nothing, merely looked at him and wondered how he could have missed the red. Valdo was saturated in it. “How peculiar. You have no choice, do you? Why?”

Jaskier sighed. There was no point in trying to deny it. Valdo had spent the last hour becoming intimately acquainted with Jaskier’s obedience. He stood and dressed, wanting desperately to get away, to get out, to get safe.

“A curse from a faery,” Jaskier answered, his voice tight.

Valdo chuckled. “Or a gift .”

It was a small mercy that Valdo let him leave then, apparently satisfied with what he had extracted from Jaskier. Jaskier refused to let himself break, refused to let even a single tear fall, until he had safely made it inside his own room. With the door a heavy, solid, safe thing behind him, he sunk to the floor and wept.

Jaskier survived Valdo. He still warmed Valdo’s bed, trying not to anger the man when Jaskier was so, so close to getting out of Oxenfurt, and away from Valdo.

Graduation was quickly approaching when Jaskier received word from Lettenhove. His parents, not wanting to make a scene and maybe more than a bit happy to have Jaskier out of their hair, had let him continue on at Oxenfurt. In all his years there, they did not contact him once, though they doubtless knew of his whereabouts. This letter confirmed his suspicions. They knew, they simply didn’t want to do anything about it, and that was just fine by Jaskier.

His mother was dying. The letter he got from his father was terse, and directly to the point. No flowery language, no questions after Jaskier’s wellbeing. Only the information that his mother had fallen ill and their healers were unable to do anything more for her except ease her pain. He did not suppose she would last longer than a fortnight.

The surprise was the parchment from his mother. It had only a single word on it: Lazuli .

Jaskier did not dare to hope. A name only gave him so much, if he was even correct in his assumption that this was the fae that had cursed him. He was a spoiled viscount of Lettenhove, a noble whose greatest achievements amounted, largely, to his skill with his instruments and, perhaps, his charm and wit. He couldn’t begin to know how to go about finding a fae and, once found, how to get Lazuli to remove his curse.

Still, he couldn’t help the way he warmed with hope. A name was a direction. A name was a goal, eventually.

He spared a tear for his mother, and sent a very polite, if somewhat detached, letter home. He received word of her death scarcely a week later, and he was not invited home for the funeral. It was for the best. Jaskier had studies to complete, and little intention of returning to Lettenhove without a great deal more preparation.

The hope lifted him through finishing his classes, gave him the strength to survive Valdo, and lit a fire inside him. He had always wanted to travel and have grand adventures--now, those travels would have a purpose. He would learn all he could to find Lazuli and break his curse.

When Valdo commanded him to turn down an offer to a noble's court, Jaskier did not weep. He merely packed his belongings (or, what he could carry, at least) and took his leave of Oxenfurt. As he took to the road again he felt light, airy. He was free again, and though he knew all too well that this was a fleeting feeling, there was no point in sullying the moment by being realistic.

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