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amzngdevil · 2 years

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"Remember me", I ask; "remember me", I sing - Yennskier Modern!AU

Summary: Yennefer goes to one of Jaskier's concerts and the two end up opening up about how they feel about Geralt and how they feel about each other.

Warnings: angst, mention of vision issues, mention of parental abandonment.

Shipps: Yennskier are the protagonists, but this is sort of a Geraskefer story too.

Notes: This just popped in my head and I couldn't do anything but write it. Ofc you'll find some TAD references.

The pub was full, but despite that there was an atmosphere of comfort completely opposite to the way Yennefer felt in such places. She shook her head in response to a few nods from strangers as she looked for a place to sit and enjoy the show. A familiar face appeared on stage and, as made eye contact with her, gained a twinkle in his eye and ran towards her.

"Yennefer!" Jaskier tucked his hair behind the ear after they hugged. "Why didn't you let me know you were coming? I could've saved you a seat..."

"Don't worry about it!" she lightly touched his arm to make him stop looking around for a vacant seat. "I didn't even know I was coming, actually."

Jaskier caught a shadow in her eyes.

"Did you decide last minute or someone decided for you?"

The sad expression on Yennefer's face was answer enough.

"Where is he?"

"Watching a movie with Ciri." the mention of the girl brought the smile back to Yennefer's face. "Some nonsense with cars and explosions, just the way they like it."

"Good. We know Ciri is the only one capable of getting him to open up about his feelings."

Jaskier led Yennefer by the hand to a table by the window, unoccupied by a couple who had joined some friends at another table. She sat in one of the chairs as he set the other aside and crouched in front of her.

"Well, we can talk about it later. For now, I'll be happy if you forget about your problems and enjoy the concert."

"What can I expect?" she had never seen Jaskier and his band perform.

"Not much." he smirked and blinked at her. "Just the unexpected."

He kissed her hand and got up to go to the stage. She remained feeling the cold and softness of his lips for minutes long.

☆

They were... stunning, for lack of a better word. In addition to Jaskier leading vocals and guitar, the band also had backing vocals by Essi, who played violin and cello, and Priscilla on bass. Valdo - whose feuds with Jaskier she had grown tired of hearing about - rounded out the harmony on drums and percussion.

Fret not, dear heart

Let not them hear the mutterings of all your fears

The flatterings of all your wings

Their music given, at the same time, sadness and joy. The lyrics were pure poetry, catching the most hidden human feeling and transforming it in words beautifully cadenced. She fight against some tears that tried to come up while listening her heart being ripped from the ribcage in that pub, or at last it seemed. The song ended without her noticed and they started another one, this time with just Jaskier and Essi remaining on stage. He strummed the guitar and a smooth melody filled place.

Dear heart, it's me

It's me

You don't need to pretend to be someone you're not

'Cause it's not like I've never heard you fart and snort

Despite her melancholy, Yennefer giggled at the lyrics. It were so Jaskier - finish a sentence capable to make the old poets envy with a ordinary joke. The song has make her think of Geralt, of herself and of Jaskier. The singer and she loved Geralt so much, and he surely loved them back. Why was it all so complicated, then? They never named their relationship for some specific reasons - don't put feeling into boxes, Ciri maybe were still too young to comprehend, and people definitely would talk. But was the price worth it? Yennefer feared that if they keep acting that way, they would end up killing that love so pure cultivated between them.

☆

The concert passed in a blur. Lost in her own thoughts, Yennefer only came to her senses when Jaskier touched her gently on the shoulder.

"Are you okay?" he looked really worried.

"Yeah, I just... The concert was amazing, your songs made me think of so many things..."

Jaskier understood. Her look was the same that appeared on his bandmates' faces when he came up with new compositions and, he suspected, on his own face when he wrote it.

"You know what we need? A good drink. There's a little garden on the roof and, well, I can exercise my musician privileges and get us a few hours of conversation there." he held out his hand to her. "What do you say?"

The scent of night flowers plus Jaskier's presence made her feel safe enough to share the whirlwind of feelings that had swept over her. He listened patiently between sips of whiskey, muttering occasionally to punctuate his agreement.

"I know the love we feel for each other is immense, and it scares me." Yennefer sniffed, giving up trying to hide her tears. "The last time I was so scared was around the time of my surgery."

Jaskier's arm around her grew stronger.

"I wish I could take that fear away from you or at least say I don't share it." he sighed. "I wonder if it wasn't a mistake that we started all this."

"Definitely not. Of that I'm sure, you know why? Because when I got the diagnosis that I might go blind, I knew that what I would miss the most would be seeing you both and Ciri."

Now Jaskier was crying too, but not bothering to try to hide it.

"Sorry. Maybe thinking that was a reflex, since that's how I've felt all my life: like a mistake, a weight in the life of the ones I loved." he shrugged with a tired expression. "That's the big problem with being abandoned by your parents, I think."

They remained silent for a while, looking at the stars like all the answers for their problems were hidden in the sky.

"We should give a fuck and assume our relationship." Jaskier whispered.

"What?" Yennefer turned her head to face him. "What about Ciri? How she would react?"

"I think she wouldn't bother have a mother." he waited for her reaction. "And you certainly would love to have her as your daughter. Geralt wouldn't opposite to it, too."

Yennefer's face was a rock. Jaskier wondered if he passed through the limits, but she just sighed.

"We're drunk, what means that your idea doesn't sound bad. But we should talk with Geralt first, obviously. Ciri might haven't worry, but people at her school could use this against her."

"I doubt that children could be that cruel."

"Not the children, but their parents."

"You know what? Fuck them!" Jaskier stood up. "Fuck this weird society incapable to accept love in all it's ways. Can you listen to me? Fuck you all!"

"Jaskier, your slutty bard! Stop screaming! For God's sake, it's past midnight!"

Yennefer started laughing while Jaskier sat and cursed the pub's owner. They spend the rest of the night drinking and talking about their own feelings, about Geralt and Ciri too. They ended up sleeping curled into each other, dreaming about fight the world's rage for their loved one's.

#the witcher #the witcher fanfic #jaskier #yennefer of vengeberg #yennskier #geraskefer #the amazing devil #amzngdevil writing #amzngdevil

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marvelousmaize · 4 years

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you shine (like a diamond)

It takes Geralt longer than he cares to admit to notice.

Well - maybe “notice” is the wrong word. He’s noticed.

He just fails to connect the dots for an embarrassingly long amount of time. And of course, it’s Yennefer, who is always observing, always thinking, always five and ten and fifty steps ahead of everyone around her, who puts two and two together.

And her violet eyes are shrewd and narrowed as she watches Jaskier from across the expansive quarters of some lordling’s estate - one she’s put under her spell, compelled to do her bidding - watches Jaskier strum his trusty lute, humming a tune; watches with undeniable fondness the way Ciri curls into the bard, tucking her head as close to his chest as she can without disturbing his arms, her eyes fluttering shut, an utterly pleased smile on her face as Jaskier continues his little lullaby.

And you’re still so young

Still so innocent

But when you speak

There is greatness on your tongue

There is no distance you won’t overcome

No setback or defeat you won’t come from

And I’ll be standing

Right there beside you

Watching and cheering

Because I love you

Jaskier’s voice is soft and sweet near Ciri’s ear, and she’s fully asleep now in the crook of the bard’s embrace.

And Yennefer’s violet eyes are shrewd and narrowed because even in the dim candlelight, she sees it clear as day.

Jaskier is glowing.

Properly, unmistakably glowing. His entire body is surrounded by a faint but very present ethereal white light, and his smile is hopelessly fond, ocean eyes bright and adoring as he continues singing Geralt’s Child Surprise to sleep.

And Yennefer’s mind is running wild with thoughts of love and glowing and what glows when it loves when -

Everything slots into place all at once, like the final pieces of a puzzle.

“Did you know?” she asks Geralt in the courtyard the next day, her tone conversational, as the witcher fastens Roach’s harness, ready to depart on yet another monster hunt. A banshee this time, terrorizing a nearby village. “That Jaskier is a star.”

Geralt pauses, turning to fix the sorceress with a look that is half-wry, half-amused. “I had no idea you were such an admirer of his singing, Yen,” he replies dryly.

“A star you insufferable Witcher,” she snaps. “Immortal beings that reside in the Heavens and occasionally fall to Earth, assuming human form? Or did you miss that lesson during your witcher training?”

An expression of what can only be surprise crosses the Witcher’s typically stoic and stern face, but it’s gone in a flash, and Yennefer would have been left to wonder if she’d dreamt it, save for the briefest flickers lurking in the gold irises. “There hasn’t been a fallen star in centuries.”

“That we know of. Stars used to be murdered because eating their heart supposedly granted everlasting youth. Maybe they grew more careful.”

“Yen - ”

“He glows, Geralt,” Yennefer interrupts, voice quiet and serious. “Or have you not noticed?”

Geralt starts, eyebrows furrowing as he considers. His lips press into a thin line.

He’s noticed.

He just, well, he hadn’t pieced it all together. He needed Yennefer, who is always five and ten and fifty steps ahead, to force his eyes open to what he’s thought to be improbable, impossible.

“Fuck.”

And he doesn’t very well know what to do with this information - if there’s anything he should do. Because Jaskier - Jaskier, who is always talking, always saying too much, always revealing and confiding - hasn’t mentioned it, not even once.

Which is incredibly unlike him.

But Geralt is so deeply intrigued. Can’t help but wonder why.

And so he starts to mess with the bard almost (“mess” might be the wrong word. Geralt is a Witcher first and foremost, always striving to keep his knowledge of mythical and magical creatures as up-to-date as he can. Geralt experiments). Tries to figure out exactly what makes the starlight under Jaskier’s skin come through.

It becomes a bit of an obsession while they’re on the road, going back and forth between Ciri’s training in Kaer Morhen and monster hunts. But Geralt feels possessed, addicted, unable to stop.

Jaskier doesn’t shine after a particularly good meal.

Or when his singing is received with loud cheers.

Or when he’s offered the chance to sleep on a plush, soft bed instead of the hard, unforgiving ground.

But Jaskier does shine when -

Geralt draws him a warm bath.

When Ciri throws her arms around his waist and hugs him tight.

When Geralt watches him sing with a small, barely-there smile.

When someone plays with his hair; kneads his neck.

When Geralt gently tends to a wound on his hip, focused and guilt-ridden, because he’d just looked away for one second when the kikimora struck the bard.

And Geralt notices, notices that the bard seems more likely to shine when the Witcher has his undivided attention.

It’s both disarming and intoxicating to have the power and know it.

Because, see, it’s been established that Geralt is a bit obsessed, a bit enthralled. And he’s drunk with the heady knowledge that one well-placed look or touch and Jaskier will shine with starlight.

And they’re in an inn in a small town one day, just the two of them, Ciri temporarily away with Yennefer to learn control of her magic, when it all comes to a head. They’re both fairly drunk, and Geralt is unabashedly enjoying the flush of red on Jaskier’s cheeks, at the base of his neck, and quickly spreading onto his finely haired chest.

It’s his significantly lowered inhibitions that push Geralt over the edge he’s been toeing for a while now, and they’re both laughing and stumbling a little as they make their way into the room they’re renting for the night when -

Geralt crowds Jaskier up against the door, caging him in, and there’s an absurd rush of pride welling within his chest when Jaskier - heart thrumming wildly - starts to glow.

He takes a hand to wisp a lock of brown hair away from blue, blue eyes and the bard lets out a deliciously breathy gasp.

And glows even brighter.

The Witcher’s mouth curls. He presses even closer to Jaskier.

“I know,” Geralt breathes, so close to the bard’s lips, “that you’re a star.”

Jaskier visibly swallows, his eyes huge and blinking and wide. “You do?”

“Mhm.”

“How?”

And Geralt’s grin is wide as he says, “You’re glowing right now.”

Emboldened (by the grain alcohol or the shine of starlight, he doesn’t know), Geralt noses along the line of Jaskier’s neck, senses assaulted by starlight and sandalwood and pine. He hears Jaskier’s breath catch when his lips press against the delicate skin of his throat and then -

“Oh, fuck, Geralt. Geralt! What are you doing?”

Geralt pauses; leans back to meet Jaskier’s eyes; is pleased to note that he’s still glowing. He raises an eyebrow. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Do not pick right now to have a laugh, Witcher,” Jaskier says, eyes as serious as Geralt’s ever remembered them being. Then more quietly, “Not now. Not about this.”

Geralt understands. He presses closer once more; wedges one huge leg between the bard’s. “You glow more around me,” he says without preamble.

“I most certainly do not you -”

“I enjoy it.”

Jaskier very nearly reels. And blushes. And glows brighter still. “Really?” he breathes. Geralt is pleased to note that Jaskier is now more receptive; body more loose and less tense and Geralt suddenly cannot wait to uncover all the starlit skin underneath; to trace it all with his tongue and coax all kinds of beautiful sounds out of Jaskier.

“Yes,” he replies, voice deep and gravelly. He watches Jaskier’s eyes darken, hands coming up to thread themselves around the Witcher’s neck and head tilted up. The air is alive with thick, sinful, delicious tension.

And as Geralt bends his head down, a hand twining itself into fine brown hair while the other encircles a narrow waist, he watches the starlight; watches the finely haired chest heave; watches Jaskier’s eyes close with anticipation.

And adds -

“It’s my favorite thing.”

- before slotting their mouths together.

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abluescarfonwaston · 4 years

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Moving in your sleep is dangerous when you’re a Witcher. You might roll off a cliff, make a noise that draws your death to you. Geralt does not move in his sleep.

Jaskier has no such reservations.

The bed is small but it’s a rare and wonderful gift to have one at all.

He knows Jaskier moves in his sleep. He hums and snorts and snores. He steals blankets and spreads out wide in the bed.

It doesn’t mean anything when Jaskier’s hand finds his in the night.

It doesn’t mean anything but his heart is in his throat and he can barely breath.

There is a certain kind of touch he is used to feeling. It is painful or it is paid. Or it is unwanted. But that brings it’s own kind of pain.

His heart is in his throat and Jaskier snorts and at last he can breath.

It’s Jaskier. Jaskier who he’s shared baths and brothels with now. He is intimately familiar with Jaskier’s attraction.

He is not attracted to Geralt. He is not attracted to men.

Neither is Geralt.

He is attracted to women. A fact that has made him outcast from Kaer Morhen. From the other Witchers.

But it is Jaskier’s hand in his. Jaskier, who is not afraid of him. Who treats him as a man first. The fool who insights bar fights, drinking and whoring. Who is not attracted to men. Jaskier who moves in his sleep. Geralt, who does not.

He holds Jaskiers hand in his. Just tight enough that he can’t pull away without intent.

Jaskier is safe to touch because he will never try to touch Geralt back in all the ways that are painful.

He falls asleep. Jaskier’s hand in his. Safe.

Their is a distance between them. He hadn’t realized it. But Jaskier keeps his distance.

He only realizes it how because they have stumbled on a fellow bard. A man who opened his arms and Jaskier ran into willingly. Embraced him with a squeeze to the back.

His heart is in his throat.

Men are not allowed to be affectionate. Not like this. Not in public. Shameful in private. Someone will call them names and they will be chastised and they will not touch again.

They pull apart. Smiling. The other man goes in for another hug.

No one comments on the interaction that lasted perhaps ten seconds but felt like an eon.

Jaskier is soft and short and little bit pudgy. He looks like he gives the best of hugs.

There are so few people in this world that do not make his skin itch when the touch him. So many folk that touch him and he must swallow rage before he breaks their nose and proves he is the monster they think him.

Jaskier does not make his skin itch. Jaskier is not a woman hoping to bed him. Jaskier is not a powerful man hoping to make him do terrible things. Jaskier is Jaskier. And Jaskier is safe.

The next time they reunite he opens his arms like that man did.

Jaskier’s eyes widen. His face bright as he jogs the distance to him.

He pulls Jaskier in for a hug. Jaskier stands on his tip toes and his cheek presses into his shoulder. This close he can smell the beer on his breath.

It’s everything. It’s warm and comforting and safe and he wishes he could stay here forever.

He pulls back. Pats his back. Jaskier beams at him.

He let’s himself have one more.

The bathhouse is nice.

There is a small bit of mold on the ceiling in corner they couldn’t quite reach and they’d declared he had to rent a private pool rather than use the main baths with the rest of the men. But honestly its a relief. This way people won’t stare at him.

Jaskier certainly doesn’t.

He reaches for the comb and oil. Pauses.

When he’s been allowed in the main baths he’s seen men scrub each other’s backs while they chat. His hair is far less intimate than the scared skin of his back.

He offers them. “Would you?”

Jaskier blinks. Smiles. Takes them. He turns his back to Jaskier and lets him work.

He tries to think of the last time someone brushed his hair without payment. He can’t.

Perhaps Yennefer would. If he asked. But it would end with her kissing his neck and throat and heat would pool despite the fact Witchers were not meant to feel attraction. He’d think of Adele’s face. The repulsion. The Witchers who’d try to toss him from the cliffs for being half a Witcher. His skin would itch and his stomach protest even as Yennefer took her bliss.

Jaskier ran the comb through his hair one last time and leaned back against the walls of the back. Continuing his warbling about unimportant things.

Jaskier did not lean forward to kiss his neck. He never would. Because Jaskier was not attracted to men. There was a safety in that.

“And Damnit I love you too.”

“Why?”

“It’s none of your business. You wouldn’t understand.”

He lifts Ciri from Roach’s back when he hears him. “Geralt!”

He turns and opens his arms. “Jaskier.” He greets. Squeezes. He was right. He did find her. His little girl. He’d almost given up hope. But Jaskier always gave him more. Now he had his little girl. Here.

She looks at him and see a human. A man who can feel. He’s still not sure if she’s right. If Jaskier is right. But his chest aches with whatever it is that fills his chest.

“Love Geralt. You love her damnit.” He hears Jaskier say. Not now. He’s introducing himself now. But he hears it now.

“Geralt said you play the prettiest songs.” She yawns.

“Oh did he now?” He smirked. “Well i’d love to play for you.”

She nods. Eyes drooping. Leaning against his leg.

“Come on. Let me show you your room.”

She lifts her arms out to him. To Jaskier. Who smiles so warmly like it almost pains him.

He picks her little form up. Carries her on his hip like he once carried Dudu from Novigrad.

“It’s not much.” He warns. “Needs a lot of work and I was out getting supplies most of the season so. That’s quite a draft. One part of the roof leaks. And we’ll be sharing with Dudu and a halfling who arrived last week.”

“Is there a bed?” Because at this point that’s all he cares about.

“One. Woods half rotten but I think we’ll manage.”

Ciri is already asleep in his arms.

“I’m sure we will.”

They curl up on the straw stuffed mattress, Ciri between them. It’s not the most comfortable. One straw has escaped the lining and pokes at his side. The draft is terrible and the blankets can’t fully protect his back from the chill.

He has never felt more content.

He is here with two people who have only ever seen him as human.

“You saw?” He’d asked when Jaskier had found him after Blavikin.

“Yes. Well. It didn’t look good.”

And still he stayed. Still he played.

“You are my best friend.” He whispered over Ciri’s quiet breaths. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“Why would you lose me?” He snuggled closer to Ciri. Keeping the chill from her.

“Because I can’t love you right.”

Jaskier opened his eyes. Even in the dark he could still make out the brown of his irises. His smile small and- pained.

“There is no right way to love someone Geralt. You care for me. That’s enough.”

“Is it?”

He closed his eyes. Pained. Like he’d twisted his ankle again. “Yes.”

His heart was in his throat. “I will lose you like Yennefer. Because I cannot love.”

“You do love Geralt. Please stop believing those who say you can’t. They don’t know what they’re talking about. And they’re jerks. Do you deny a slug it’s right to feel only because you don’t know if it does?” He repeated. A line from years ago.

“Do you want to lay with me?” His skin itched and his stomach rolled. If it meant keeping Jaskier he would.

“You’re very handsome but I’m afraid I do not like men that way.”

Confusion covered the relief he felt. The relief Jaskier’s hands would never touch him like Adele or Renfri or Aurora or even Yennefer’s.

“I just want to lay like this Geralt. I just want to be near you.”

“Why?”

“Because I love you. You’re my best friend Geralt.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I know. Go to sleep Geralt. You’ve a roof to try and fix in the morning.”

Jaskier’s hand was flopped over his belly.

He reached out for it.

Jaskier held it. Warm and soft. Safe. He was safe in those lute calloused hands.

He drifted off wondering if this was what love felt like.

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #the witcher #jaskier #the hexer #geralt #hugs #hand holding #hair washing #platonic soulmates #these are explicity the hexer versions #following hexer canon #and all the gross baggage that implies #hey post in the tag please #thank you #writing

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darkverrmin · 4 years

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Ghost from the Past

They haven't spoken for seven years since the mountain incident.

But Geralt always kept an eye on Jaskier.

On the first year they accidentally ended up in the same town, Geralt hearing rumors about the bard playing there and then actually seeing him and hiding in the shadows. Jaskier looked like a mess, occasionally drinking himself to oblivion. Geralt wouldn't admit it, but he felt bad for him.

On the second year, Geralt started purposely travelling after Jaskier. He decided it would be better to keep an eye on the bard, so he won't get in trouble. Ciri was with Geralt, so Geralt gave himself an excuse that he shouldn't reach out for Jaskier, not to put him into more danger.

Jaskier sang songs about their adventures and Geralt listened. He wondered why the bard got so hung up on him. Jaskier started flirting with women and Geralt thought that it was to make him jealous. Although Jaskier wasn't even aware of his presence.

When Jaskier got into a serious relationship with another woman, traveling with her everywhere, Geralt was still sure that he did that to draw his attention. Why couldn't Jaskier just move on?

When Jaskier and said woman finally got married, Geralt was still convincing himself that this was all an act to get him jealous. He even got an invitation to the wedding, through Yennefer (she and Jaskier grew close over the years).

Geralt didn't attend the wedding. Not formally. He watched it from afar, hiding in the shadows of the trees. It was a modest thing, not exactly suiting the bard. Only a dozen of people. He watched Jaskier dance with his bride, spinning her around and giggling. When they kissed, Geralt felt a bittersweet sting in his heart.

Somehow, until that moment, Geralt felt that it wasn't too late to make things right between them. To apologize. To tell Jaskier how he feels. He was always convinced that he had time to amend his mistakes.

Until he saw Jaskier looking at her. Smiling. Holding her close by the waist. She leaned her head on his shoulder and Jaskier started singing quietly to her. Quiet enough for only the two of them to hear. And the Witcher, too.

Geralt watched them silently before turning around and disappearing into the woods. He knew that he should be happy for Jaskier. The bard got the life he deserved. But why did he still feel so hollow in his chest?

***

Five years passed and Geralt's knocking on Jaskier's door.

When Jaskier answers, he just stands there, gaping. He looks practically the same, except for a short beard. It quite suits him, Geralt thinks fondly.

"Don't just stand there. Come on in". Jaskier opens the door further, stepping away. His eyes never leave Geralt as the Witcher walks in. The living room is small, but cozy. Geralt notices Jaskier's lute lying on a chair, sheets of paper scattered across the table.

Geralt runs a hand through his hair, staring the the floor. "I heard about your wife... Simone. I'm so sorr-"

The Witcher's words were caught off by a giggling child running into the room. The little girl ran past him and stopped by Jaskier, hugging his leg. She peered up at the Witcher with curious eyes. "Papa, who is this big man?"

Geralt was dumbfounded. Jaskier petted the girl's head, staring down at her fondly. The girl's hair was red, but her eyes were the same blue as Jaskier's. "He's an old friend, dear. Go and finish your breakfast, I'll be right there".

The girl ran back to the kitchen, not before giving the Witcher another curious look. Geralt's eyes followed her until the moment she disappeared behind the door.

He looked back at Jaskier. "That's... That's your?.."

"Yes" Jaskier answered softly. "Agatha".

"She looks exactly like you". Jaskier gave him a soft smile and Geralt's heart stirred in his chest.

Geralt inhales and takes a step closer, gently grabbing Jaskier's hands. Jaskier stares up at him, eyes wide.

"You and the child need to leave" Geralt says, hoarse and low. "The war is getting closer and you're not safe here. Come with me".

Jaskier blinks at him twice. "You... You haven't spoken to me in seven years, you show up out of nowhere a couple of months after my beloved wife passes away and you ask me to leave everything and take my four year old girl and run away with you? You're insa-"

"Jaskier" Geralt cuts him off, closing his eyes. He openes them again and leans his forehead against Jaskier's. Jaskier doesn't move away. "I'm sorry. Please. I'll explain everything. We need to go. Nilfgaard will be here by tomorrow". Geralt swallows hard before continuing. "I'll protect you and Agatha. Trust me".

Jaskier stares at him for a long time after that. Geralt can feel his heart hammering in his chest.

"Where will we be going?"

"Kaer Morhen. You'll be safe there".

"Why should I trust yo-"

"I know I was a jerk to you, but I never stopped caring for you, Jaskier. All these years, I was trying my best to keep you safe. I... I regret I didn't do more".

Jaskier's gaze drops at the floor. He remains silent for a moment before speaking. "I don't know if I can drag a small child all the way to the north, Geralt".

"You can't stay here. We'll manage. I will carry her in my arms all the way there".

Jaskier chuckles. "That's sweet". He looks back at Geralt. "I've really wanted her to meet you. Been telling her a lot of stories about you" he mumbled.

"Maybe Ciri will be happy to have a little sister".

Jaskier's eyes lit up. "Your child surprise? She's at Kaer Morhen!?"

"Keep it down, Jaskier. And yes. It's a... Long story. I can tell you on our way out of here".

Jaskier remains silent for a couple of minutes, thinking. Finally, Jaskier pulls away and turns around. "Agatha! Guess what, we're going on an adventure!"

***

Geralt watches from the balcony as Ciri reads Agatha a book. Agatha's is sitting in Ciri's lap, her blue eyes wide with amusement and curiosity.

Geralt feels a warm feeling spreading across his chest. Yennefer walks over to the girls, sitting beside them on the grass. She listens to the story Ciri's reading, staring at them with a smile.

The Witcher feels two warm hands wrapping around his middle. Jaskier nuzzles his hair and Geralt leans back into the touch, humming.

"Thought you fell asleep" The Witcher mumbles, placing his own hands over Jaskier's and squeezing.

"Can't fall asleep without you" Jaskier mumbles into his hair. He leans up to kiss Geralt's cheek. "Stop worrying about the girls being outside and come to bed. Yen's got them".

Geralt smiles and lets Jaskier pull him into the room.

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queenxxxsupreme · 4 years

Text

Shelter

A/N: Needed some soft Yennefer because I love her.

Word Count: 1.9k

Warning: none :) this is pure fluff

Thunder rumbled in the clouds above the mountains that rested behind the witcher, the mage, the bard, and the source. Cirilla jumped at the clap of thunder. Yennefer, who rested on the same horse as her, offered a comforting hand to Ciri’s side. The young ashen haired girl was nearly falling asleep, struggling to keep her eyes open.

“I’m tired.” Ciri rubbed her eyes and leaned back into Yennefer, who gladly provided support.

“We are almost there.” She assured Ciri, kissing the top of her head.

“You said that an hour ago.” Jaskier muttered. His horse was just behind Yennefer and Ciri’s. Yennfer shot him a brief glare over her shoulder. Her violet eyes flickered back to Geralt. The witcher carried up the rear.

“We are nearly there.”

The White Wolf nodded once but said nothing.

“You’ve never actually told us where it is we are going.” Ciri said.

“Somewhere safe that we can rest.” Yennefer answered softly. “A trusted friend that can offer us shelter.”

“Huh. I didn’t think you had any friends.” Jaskier stated, nearly chuckling at himself.

Yennefer chose to ignore him.

The path began to grow more and more narrow. The trees provided a thick, dense canopy, hiding the forest floor from the dwindling light given by the evening sun. The darkness gave everyone an uneasy feeling. Geralt kept his eyes peeled and listened carefully to ever little sound, wanting to know if there was anything dangerous lurking in the woods.

As the forest came to an end, a little hilltop meadow came into view. At the base of the hill was a wooden gate attached to a fence. The fence disappeared in a thick bush on one side and traveled around the hill on the other side.

Using her magic, Yennefer pulled the gate open without getting off of her horse. Just as she was closing the gate behind Geralt, a dark brown donkey with white legs made itself known, braying and its ears pressed flat to its skull.

“Easy, Gus.” Yennefer put her hand up, ushering a wave of serenity to the animal.

Once Gus was calm, Yennefer continued up the path surrounded by undergrowth and bushes.

Around the little hill was a stone cottage. Lavender hydrangea bushes rested in the flower bed just outside of the house. Pink and purple bougainvilleas covered one side of the cottage and green ivy littered the roof.

You were underneath the tree near the house with a book in hand and a lamb across your lap. A calf rested next to you, resting its head on your thigh. When they heard Gus’s alarm, they lifted their heads up.

The lamb bleated and hurried to greet the uninvited guest. The calf was slower to get up but followed its friend. You remained under the tree, smoothing out your skirt as you looked at the group.

When you realized it was Yennefer, you were on your feet and running to her. The book that had once been in your hand was left in the grass. Excitement and happiness filled your veins at the sight of the mage.

You collided into her with such force that she nearly fell backwards. She had to step back to keep from falling to the ground. Your arms wrapped around her neck and your lips met hers. She tasted just as sweet and intoxicating as you remembered.

Her arms slipped around your waist, holding you close to her. She pulled away first, smiling at you. You couldn’t help getting lost in her violet gaze.

“I hope you don’t mind that I’ve brought a few guests.”

The mage’s words reminded you that the two of you weren’t alone. Your arms retracted from her and you stepped back to look at who all she had brought. You immediately recognized Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf, from not only the ballads but also from what Yennefer told you. Cirilla was easy to recognize too with her ashen hair and bright blue eyes. That left the brunet man to be Jaskier, the bard.

“Where are my manners?” You laughed softly, brushing your hair behind your ears. “You look like you’ve been traveling for ages. I’ve got warm soup and extra beds. Let’s go put the horses in the stable around back.”

“How did you know I’d be coming with them?” Yennefer asked as she began to lead her horse with Ciri still on top of it.

“I didn’t.” You looked over to her. “I had enough ingredients so I made extra and I was going to take it into town to give to the beggars in town.”

Yennefer’s chest tightened at your words. You were a soul too pure for her. She was unworthy of your kindness and generosity.

She reached up to brush her fingers over your hair, smiling gently at you.

“Am I the only one who did not see that coming?” Jaskier whispered to Geralt. The witcher glanced at him but said nothing, following silently behind Yennefer.

***

Once the horses were in stables and had been given chunks of hay for the night, you ushered everyone into the house, making sure that they washed their hands at the well just outside of your home.

You went inside ahead of everyone else and began to slice a fresh loaf of bread just pulled from the stone oven.

“I’m terribly sorry. Yennefer is such a rude person.” Jaskier swatted his hand in Yennefer’s direction. “She didn’t properly introduce us. I’m Jaskier, this lovely lady is Ciri, and that’s Geralt.”

“I know who you all are.” You told Jaskier, moving to gather enough bowls for everyone. “Geralt is easy to tell because of the ballads - your ballads. And Yennefer has mentioned Cirilla quite a few times.”

“She’s never mentioned you.” Ciri frowned, brows drawing together.

You placed a bowl of hot soup down in front of her, offering her a gentle smile.

“Yen doesn’t tell anyone about me.” You glanced over to the mage who stood at the end of the table, refusing to sit. You winked at her, letting her know you were just messing with her. “She prefers to keep me a secret.”

“If you tell the world of the fortune you managed to stumble upon, then everyone will rush to steal it from you.” She said, tapping her fingertips against the table.

You could sense something was wrong with her. Something bothered her. She was tense.

You finished dipping out bowls for the two men and wiped your hands on your skirt, your eyes finding Yennefer.

“Don’t mind us.” You told the three at the table, giving them little smiles. “We just have to step outside for a moment. Do help yourself to bread and more soup. There’s plenty to go around.”

You moved past Yennefer, hooking your hand around her arm and tugging her outside. The door to the cottage closed behind her.

“What’s wrong?” You asked her, brows drawing together as you tilted your head to the side a little.

She said nothing at first, violet eyes flickered over the path in front of your home.

“I didn’t want to bring them here.” She admitted quietly, her eyes searching your face but never meeting your eyes. “I would’ve much rather teleported them here, but I’m exhausted and tired and it’s-it’s been such a long day-,”

“Hey.” You cut her off, placing your hand on her arm. “It’s okay that you’ve brought them here. You all needed somewhere to stay, somewhere safe. I’m glad you’ve come home.”

You embraced her in a warm hug, one much gentler than your previous one.

“I just don’t like to risk your safety.”

“I don’t mind providing somewhere for them to go.” You pulled your head back so that you could look into her eyes. “They’re your family. Wherever you are welcomed, so are they.”

Yennefer brought her hand up to trace your jaw with her fingertips.

“What did I ever do to deserve you?”

“You deserve everything.” You pressed a chaste kiss to her lips. “Now come. You need to eat something.”

***

You had just finished giving Ciri enough blankets for the night. She’d be staying on an extra bed in the floor of your room. Jaskier and Geralt would be sleeping in the main room by the fireplace. You had enough blankets for them but the hearth would surely aid in keeping them warm.

Jaskier was sitting on a stool by the fire, quietly playing a song and messing with lyrics. Yennefer was in with Ciri, talking quietly to the young girl.

Geralt sat alone at the kitchen table, staring at his hands.

You moved to sit across from him. He looked up at you and sat straighter. You smiled a little at him.

“I just…. I know how you and Yennefer met.” You told him, keeping your voice low so that only he could hear. “And I want to thank you for saving her.”

“What has she told you?” His voice was deep and gravelly. He didn’t speak much throughout the evening.

“Everything.” You admitted. You turned your head to look down the hallway that your room was down. “Of her destiny…. Of yours…. And of Cirilla’s.”

You did your best not to feel upset about it. You knew the wish Geralt made wasn’t in Yennefer’s control. Her fate was stuck to his forever, sealed after the first time they met. Cirilla’s fate was intertwined with theirs being that she was Geralt’s child surprise. Yennefer thought of her as her own daughter and it warmed your heart to see your mage act to gentle and sweet with her.

“Thank you for saving her.” You looked to Geralt, meeting his gaze. “If there is anything ever that you need, you can come to me. I’m a stranger to your world, to Yennefer’s world, sure. But I can offer a warm bed and fresh food. Somewhere safe should you ever need it.”

Geralt nodded once, a silent thank you to your words.

“Please enlighten me, Y/N.” Jaskier quit playing his lute as he spoke. “How did such a sweet woman like you end up with a hellbeast like Yennefer of Vengerberg?”

Your eyes flickered over to the mage as she closed the door to your room behind herself.

“My mother is an herbalist from Vizima. Yennefer came to her shop in search of an herb. I took one look at her and decided that I wanted her.” You smiled gently.

She held your gaze but said nothing.

“Of course, she didn’t pay any attention to me at first.” You leaned back, motioning for her to sit next to you. She hesitated before doing so. You placed your hand on her knee, offering her comfort. “But eventually, I managed to catch her attention.”

“When you nearly set yourself on fire.” Yennefer sighed.

“It was an accident though.”

***

After a few hours, you and Yennefer retired to your room. You clambered into the bed, settling beneath fine furs and quilts. Yennefer only settled for the best of everything.

“Will you let me braid your hair?” You asked her as she began to get into the bed. She nodded softly and went around to your side of the bed. She climbed up to rest between your legs.

Minutes passed as the two of you enjoyed the peace and quiet. Your fingers were delicate with her thick dark hair.

“Thank you.” She murmured softly, glancing over her shoulder so she could steal a look at you. “For welcoming them the way you did.”

“No need to thank me, love.” You kissed her forehead. “You are all I need as a thanks. Now turn around so I don’t make this crooked.”

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#yennefer #yennefer x reader #yennefer of vengerberg #yennefer of vengerberg x reader #the witcher #the witcher netflix #mage #yennefer fluff #yennefer oneshot #yennefer fic

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henryobsessed · 3 years

Text

The Widow and The Widow - Epilogue

Jaskier sat to their right playing beautiful tunes on his lute. Jaskier finished his song his face wrinkled which reflected in the warble of his voice as he spoke to Julia "Ahh the good old days, adventures and romance, monsters and money" Geralt growled low as Julia laughed "You didn't go on any of those adventures Jask you were too busy playing with the children"

Word Count: 1950

Warning: Grief

A/N Awwww I didn't want to do this ending but I knew it was needed.

First I want to say Thank you for finishing this book with me, For my first story I know there may have been a lot of mistakes but I wanted to get the story line out.

If your willing and would like to help I am going to edit now so can you comment of the Chapter that you think need the most immediate correction? Which one did you think was weakest?

Which chapter was your favorite?

Epilogue

The Sun was dipping over the garden, the sky was streaked with pinks, reds and deep hues of purple. It had been a full day of laughter and joy, as the estate's families had all returned to celebrate Julia's 98th Birthday. That morning Geralt had bathed his beloved in kisses and cuddles before helping her bathe. She had dressed in her favourite dress the Royal teal satin dress that she had cherished for many years, it was slightly too big for her now thinning frame but it still lit up her face whenever she wore it.

Geralt had settled her in her garden on a special day bed that Tobias had made for her so that she could enjoy the sunshine and watch the children play. Today there were many children running around the garden playing hid and seek and running underfoot of the Adults who were eagerly catching up after some time apart. Jaskier sat to their right playing beautiful tunes on his lute. Jaskier finished his song his face wrinkled which reflected in the warble of his voice as he spoke to Julia "Ahh the good old days, adventures and romance, monsters and money" Geralt growled low as Julia laughed "You didn't go on any of those adventures Jask you were too busy playing with the children"

Laughter rang out from her lips as Jaskier pouted and then smiled a devious smile as he began to strum "Toss a Coin...." Even before he could finish the sentence Geralt gave him a look that silenced the old man. "No fair Geralt, I need to revel in my youth. You still look that same as you did when we first met and Julia and I, well we've seen better days." Putting a soft wrinkled hand on Jaskier arm Julia smiled and said "It's ok Jask, why don't you play me Caleb's favourite lullaby. I always loved that song" a gentle sweet smile formed on Jaskier's face as he began to play a gentle lullaby that almost succeeded in taking Julia away into slumber.

As the morning's festivities moved into lunch and then Mid-afternoon a large cake was bought out for Julia. Large enough to accommodate the myriad of candles adorning the top, she asked the children to gather around and help her blow them out. Geralt loved how much she enjoyed her great-grandchildren and great-great-grandchildren. He knew however that today she would not have had the breath to blow out one candle let alone 98. He sat behind her as she lay comfortably against his chest, their familiar position as the procession of Gifts were paraded before her. First came Tobias and Renee who both looked remarkably young for being in their late 60's easily mistaken for being in there 40's. Followed by Wilfred and his family and their children and Amelia and her family and their children.

As they moved forward Vesemir, Eskel, Lambert and Cohen bowed low before her Julia the only one looking even remotely as old as Julia was now was Vesemir his frame slightly bent and eyes watery but he looked in his mid 80's rather than the possible 600yrs that he was. The brothers blew her a kiss each and they moved along to allow Visenna and Yennefer a chance to present there good wishes presenting the only Gift Julia would agree to accept today a small bottle of her favourite Honeysuckle oil.

As each servant presented before her Julia remembered her cherished ones those who had passed on ahead of her Nessie her beloved cook who had become a cherished friend. Ruth and Hannah who had died in an outbreak of the pox 20 years earlier along with Jolnar and Petra. She had done all she could for them and it still it haunted her knowing she could not save them.

As the last couple walked near, she recognised both the beautiful lady standing before her and her handsome son standing taller than his father broad shoulders carrying their youngest child. No longer a teenage girl but a regale Queen, Cirilla had rightfully taken her place as the Queen of Cintra along with her husband Caleb beside her. She and her children now ruled the lands of Cintra and had enjoyed peace for many years. Ciri and Caleb kneeled before Julia and took her wrinkled hands in theirs. There eye's meeting, Ciri's full of unshed tears as she kissed Julia on her hand whispering "Happy Birthday Mother, I love you" handing their youngest to Jasker who was happy to cuddle with his nephew Caleb leaned forward and embraced his mother. His deep baritone voice whispered "You're looking well today mum, has dad been looking after you?" the cheeky glint in his eye speaking to how well he knows his parents the even after all these years their passion for each other had never wavered.

Now Geralt had Julia wrapped up in his arms in their favourite place, a blanket sitting over their bodies snuggling on the day bed in the healing rooms looking out over the place where so much love and warmth was met today. As the stars began appearing Geralt whispered to Julia "did you enjoy today my love?" he could hear her gentle soft breathing as she nestled further into his arms "Yes, it was so good to see everyone. This place seems so quiet when they are off living their lives" Geralt hummed in agreement as he ran his fingers through her hair now just as white as his own. They stayed that way for quite some time just enjoying the stars and each other's warmth until Geralt felt something change. It was an imperceptible shift in the way Julia was breathing he looked down at her, as their eyes met. Her pale now milky blue eyes smiled as she said "Take care of them my love" and with that she breathed one last breath and was gone.

He had known it was coming, they had prepared for this moment since Julia had started to feel her strength decline, but it didn't make the feeling of loss any less. Rather than moving Geralt relaxed into the day bed content to hold his beloved in his arms for just one more night.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Visenna placed a hand on Geralt's shoulder, she had found him sitting on the day bed looking out at the stars. Thankfully the family had been still in town allowing for a funeral to take place before they all went their separate ways.

At the contact of her hand on his shoulder she sat as he turned, and her son curled into her sobbing. No matter how much they had planned for this, talked about this she knew he would feel the grief and loss for many years to come. She was just glad she could be here to comfort him, to walk it thought with him. She knew he would be ok, that the love of their large family would help him remember the good times. To remember the love that Julia had shown to so many, and to celebrate the life that they had together. Still right now it was raw, and he needed to be allowed to grief so she did what she could she held her son and let him cry.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

It had been a few months since Julia had passed and Geralt was only just beginning to start to feel more that just the loss. He had woken in his empty bed his arms aching to hold her again. Just wanting to feel close to her he went out to the stables and saddled Roach. The chestnut mare had been a present to him from Julia after Rose had passed away. They had clicked straight away, and roach had been a faithful companion. Today he knew where he needed to go, to their special place. Getting into the saddle he urged Roach into a gallop as they flew over the hills, past the Witcher keep that now rose up to the east of the main dwelling, past the orchards and finally to the river. He had pushed Roach fast needing to feel the wind and adrenaline through his veins.

Here, he found their favourite place, the watering hole had not changed too much since that day he had proposed to her. The trees were still strong and created the sound of waves as the wind rustled the leaves. The birds had come and gone, and now new generations occupied their branches. Even the ant's nests continued their cycle completely unperturbed by the destruction of their colony all those years ago when he had landed his beloved directly on top of their home.

Sitting down on the same bank he shut his eyes, picturing her face he spoke "We miss you Julia, I miss you. Your smile and your hugs. I miss your constant prattle about the grandchildren, and your worry about their safety. I wish you could have lived as long as I did, and that I wouldn't have to live without you" He opened his eyes looking at the water, he realised the biggest thing he missed was the peace that she exuded. Even in her worry she was peaceful.

As he sat a voice seemed to carry on the wind from long ago, her voice as it recited "The lord is my Shepard I lack nothing. He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he refreshes my soul. He guides me along the right paths for his name's sake. Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil, my cup overflows. Surely your goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever." As the words swirled around his mind a peace settled in his heart. It wasn't just Julia that he had missed is was the presence of her unnamed God that seemed to follow her wherever she was that he missed.

Speaking to the wind his deep voice carrying around the river he said "I know you, I watched you work through Julia's hand, her compassion, her heart for her family for her patients for me. I saw you work your miracle to bring us the child she so longed to have. If she's with you I want to be there too. I have never believed in higher beings, help me find you. I want to know you like she did" With that a peace greater than he had ever felt before wrapped itself around his heart. In that moment he knew without a shadow of doubt that he would continue to protect and love the family he had on this earth, and that he would one day see Julia again. Filled with a renewed strength and peace he went to Roach mounted and set off for home.

THANK YOU FOR READING THE WIDOW AND THE WITCHER

Previous Chapter Twenty Nine Masterlist

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51 notes · View notes

lesdemonium · 4 years

Note

please please give us a 33. baby fic (i hope this means there is a baby and not the characters are babies or have known each other since they were babies) and 52. marriage of convenience geraskier mash-up 😌💕

oops i angsted all over this!!!

33. Baby Fic + 52. Marriage of Convenience

“What is this horseshit?”

Geralt looked up from the paperwork Yennefer provided him with. He was tensed, ready for a fight, but Yennefer held up her hand as if to stop him. It was with a huff that he allowed her to silence him, but he narrowed his eyes to find some way to voice his displeasure.

“The judge is a family matters type judge. He won’t care if you’re the better parent, or that Ciri actually knows you. In his eyes, the fact that they’re her grandparents and that there are two of them means they are the obvious choice. I agree with you, it’s horseshit, but if we want to win this, we have to play ball. Now, as your legal advisor, I cannot advocate for you... bending the rules. But as your friend. Well. I think you need to do whatever you possibly can to make yourself a more ideal candidate in this judge’s eyes.”

Geralt’s lips thinned. He wanted to yell at Yen, to tell her this was stupid and archaic and made no sense at all. He’d had Ciri for a year now after the death of her parents. As far as she was concerned, Geralt was her dad. Now her estranged grandparents thought they had rights, and by all accounts would win their custody battle? It wasn’t fair. It was deeply, deeply unfair, both to him and to Ciri.

“What are you suggesting I do, then?” Geralt finally spat, glowering at her.

Yennefer spread her hands out on the table, palms up. She looked at him, an eyebrow raised, and tilted her head. Already, Geralt didn’t like whatever plan she had in mind. But if it would keep his 18 month old with him, he would be willing to do anything.

“How do you feel about marriage?”

It was a stupid idea. Geralt knew that even as he worked himself up to have the conversation all throughout Ciri’s bedtime routine. He took his time with it, trying to stretch out the diaper change, putting on her pajamas, and reading her stories as long as possible. Eventually, though, it all came to an end. Ciri was tired, and when Geralt put her in her crib, she rolled over onto her stomach almost immediately, her butt in the air, chasing sleep.

Geralt’s steps were heavy as he made his way down the stairs. He could hear Jaskier at the kitchen table, typing away on his laptop, and Geralt’s heartbeat only got faster.

“Hey! Let me just--” he finished typing with a flourish, then closed the laptop. Jaskier turned to face Geralt with a smile, holding out his hand for Geralt to take. Geralt did, and sat down in the chair across from Jaskier. “How did the meeting with Yen go? What did she say about all this?”

Geralt swallowed thickly. “She said they have a case. Not really, because Ciri’s grandparents don’t know her and Pavetta and Duny had a will, but the judge they have, probably paid for... we’ll have an uphill battle. Yen thinks they’ll be able to prove Ciri shouldn’t stay with me.”

Jaskier’s face looked stricken. He tightened his hold on Geralt’s hand. “But that doesn’t make any sense! She’s been here since she was six months! You’re her dad. They can’t just... take custody away from you because they decided to swoop back into her life!”

Geralt shook his head. “They shouldn’t be able to. But they have money. This judge tends to side with biological family. We could probably dispute that, by leaning heavily on the fact that they were estranged, and I was in Ciri’s life even before the accident. But he also likes two-parent households. He’s not a fan of single parents.”

“God, of all the prejudiced--I can’t believe that. There has to be something we can do. They can’t just... take her.” Jaskier bit his lip harshly, looking down. His eyes were beginning to tinge red, and Geralt didn’t blame him. Geralt had cried his fill earlier that day.

“Will you marry me?”

The words burst out of Geralt so quickly, they were largely inarticulate. Jaskier’s eyes latched back onto Geralt’s as his eyebrows shot up. Geralt felt his mouth grow dry.

“Geralt, what--”

“A two parent household, Jask. We could be that if we got married. You’ve already been here for most of her life, she knows you and loves you. I love you. It would strengthen our case, and Yen thinks it’d be enough to get the judge to side with me.”

“Romantic, Geralt,” Jaskier said, voice dripping with sarcasm. He frowned and pulled his hand away from Geralt, instead wrapping it around his torso as if he were hugging himself. Or protecting himself. “Exactly what I’ve always dreamed my boyfriend would say. A marriage of convenience. Forgive me if I don’t swoon.”

“Jask, that’s not--” Geralt ran his fingers through his hair. It was what he meant, though. Jaskier was right. This wasn’t romantic, it was just pure convenience. He could understand the hurt, angry look Jaskier was giving him.

“I’m a little tired of Yennefer leading our relationship, Geralt. Do you really need her to field every single step we take? You only asked me out because she told you to stop being an idiot, and now you’re asking me to marry you on her legal advice. Jesus, did you consult her before we fucked, too? Did she give you tips and pointers? Should I thank her for you asking me to move in?” Jaskier pushed himself back from the table abruptly, the chair scraping on the floor. He stood up and walked into the kitchen proper, his back to Geralt.

“Jaskier, that isn’t what this is. It’s just to keep Ciri. I’m not trying to--”

“I know, Geralt. I fucking know, okay? And it’s very admirable and any other time I’d be swept right off my feet that you’d be willing to do anything for Ciri. But not when it means stomping all over me. I know Ciri always comes first, I agree, but can’t I at least be second?” His back was still turned to Geralt, but now Geralt could see his hands reach out to grasp the edge of the counter, holding Jaskier up. Geralt could see the muscles pressing taut against Jaskier’s skin.

Geralt stood, walking over to Jaskier slowly, as if he was a deer, easily spooked. Geralt reached out and touched Jaskier’s shoulder, and Jaskier yanked himself away.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t intend to hurt you.” Jaskier huffed out a humorless laugh. “I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. You and Ciri are my family. I didn’t want to make you feel otherwise, but I know this proposal isn’t exactly... encouraging affection.”

“You can say that again,” Jaskier replied.

When Geralt touched him again, though, Jaskier didn’t tug away. Geralt took Jaskier’s hand again, turning Jaskier until Jaskier faced him, teary eyes and all. Jaskier’s back pressed against the counter and Geralt stepped into his space, taking Jaskier’s face in his hands.

“I’ll admit I wasn’t ready to propose, not actually. I don’t want this to be our story or for a hasty, courthouse, wedding of convenience to be how I tell the world I love you.” He took a deep breath, watching Jaskier’s face. Though his mouth was still a thin line and his hands remained tight on the counter, he was at least listening to Geralt. “When I propose to you, for real, it will have nothing to do with Yennefer, and will be solely about you. When we get married, we’ll have a ceremony, however you want it to look, and I will kiss you until you’re embarrassed of me. All I’m asking of you now is to help me keep our baby. Marry me on paper, that’s all. Please, Jaskier.”

Jaskier sniffed and rolled his eyes. “Your actual proposal better be so fucking romantic. And it is officially yours. There is absolutely zero chance of me proposing to you, now. You need to figure out how to make it a story worth telling to make up for this bullshit.”

Geralt nodded. He swiped his thumb out to wipe away a tear.

“And you are so in the doghouse. For a while, Geralt Rivia. This was a colossally bad false-start, and I demand to be woo’d and courted for my forgiveness.”

“Of course.”

Jaskier pursed his lips and tried to blink away his tears. “And marriage is something you want eventually, for real, not just to give us some legitimacy? Because I didn’t think you even wanted to get married at all. Being yours without a certificate didn’t bother me. But doing it that way when you don’t even want to do it that way, ever, that would just kill me, Geralt. I’ll do anything to keep Ciri but don’t--please don’t--I can’t if doing this will ruin everything.”

Geralt shook his head. “It won’t. We were going to get married one day, no matter what. The right way. I’m settling for doing it the wrong way so that I can keep you both forever.”

“Will things change?”

“Absolutely nothing. I’ll love you just the same before and after. It’s about legality only. Otherwise, I’m very happy with us.”

Jaskier took a deep breath and nodded. His arms finally snaked their way around Geralt’s waist and Geralt took that as permission to kiss Jaskier. It was soft, chaste, just a testing of the water. Jaskier looked wrecked when Geralt pulled away, though. He wouldn’t press it further.

“Okay. Let’s keep our baby,” Jaskier whispered.

send me a geraskier prompt mashup?

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belettewrites · 3 years

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Some mountains and a dog part 4

previous | next | masterpost | AO3

cw: animal death mentioned

It was just before midday; they had been on the road for three yours, Jaskier on Roach and Geralt leading him. He had started doing that more, after the mountain. To show Jaskier that he was cared for; that Geralt hadn’t meant it, but did mean what he had said about wanting to apologize. And it was nice to see Jaskier on Roach, next to his and Geralt’s bags, as if he belonged with him.

Geralt had no doubt about Jaskier belonging with anyone; the bard was a mage, after all, and his own person, and was as free as a bird. He felt blessed to have Jaskier by his side – that Jaskier had been by his side for twenty years, and had chosen to stay there even when things had become shitty. Well, shittier. He had stayed when Geralt ran to find Ciri, he had stayed when it turned out that Ciri had powers, he had stayed to wait for Yennefer when it became clear that he wouldn’t be able to help much.

He had stayed and was still there, by Geralt’s side, cheeks sun-kissed and hair ruffled by the wind, laughing a laugh that was only meant for Geralt.

“Geralt!,” Jaskier suddenly gasped, turning him away from his thoughts, “Look, a dog!”

He smiled. Jaskier did this every time they came across a dog. “Geralt! Look at its tiny paws!” he would say, and Geralt would hum; “Geralt! Look at how soft it looks!” he would cry out in delight, and Geralt would hum. “Jaskier, look over there, the dog,” Geralt had said once, and Jaskier had taken his hand and squeezed it briefly before letting it go, a smile brightening his face.

“Don't approach it,” Geralt warned, “it's a shepherd dog and its job is to protect the flock. Don't want it to think you're a threat.”

Though Jaskier, even smelling magic like he always had ever since he had revealed his true nature to Geralt, didn't seem like much of a threat. But Jaskier’s safety was not something Geralt wanted to play with, so he looked over at the dog to make sure he wasn’t being threatening.

The dog had seen them and was watching them distrustfully. Especially Geralt; he was used to it, cats always hissing at him, but dogs usually were nicer. Though this one had to protect something, and there was nothing more dangerous than a dog with instincts telling him to protect something.

Geralt had once seen a dog turning on his own owner because the man was yelling quite angrily at his child, who looked close to tears. The dog, a big dog with long black fur, had growled, stepping between them. The child, unaware of what was happening, had hugged it, but their father had turned pale and after glancing down, had gone away quickly. Seemingly satisfied, the dog had licked the child’s hands, and Geralt had turned away, not forgetting how far the dog was ready to go to protect what was under its care.

So he was more than relieved when a voice called out:

“Charcoal! What are you looking at, you doof- oh!”

Jaskier dismounted Roach and straightened up, ready to defend Geralt against any prejudices.

But there was no need; the woman, when she saw them, smiled and waved her hand to say hello, the dog staying close to her, almost making her trip over it. It was almost weird, seeing another person here, when it had only been him and Jaskier for the last few days; how easy it had been, to forget about the rest of the world.

Jaskier waved back, seemingly unbothered by the sight of another human here, and Geralt relaxed as the dog turned its attention away from them. It was a big dog. "Fluffy" Jaskier would say, fur white and gray and black, its head bigger than Geralt's hand. It looked young; still in training, then.

The woman walked closer to them. She wasn't tall, but wasn't small either; red hair falling on her shoulders, freckles on her cheeks and nose. She looked – pretty, the kind of person Jaskier would have spent the night with years ago. Though he had stopped doing that well before Ciri; after his performances he would always come back to Geralt, smiling softly at him and stealing his ale. It warmed Geralt more than he could say.

“Excuse him,” the woman said, still smiling, “he thinks anyone that isn't me or my wife is a threat, but he’s a sweetheart.”

“It's nothing,” Jaskier replied, “I had a dog a bit like him when I was younger. Great with children, though you should've seen how he reacted when someone that wasn't us walked by.”

The woman laughed.

“Well, let me say, it is nice to meet other souls up here. I'm Violet.” she added with a smile.

Then she hesitated, glancing at Jaskier then turning her attention back to Geralt, and to his swords.

“Say, I don't want to sound rude, but- what are you doing here? I mean, there's no one here but me and my wife, and the occasional traveler. We have a beast that steals the sheep, but apart from that, I don't think it's the kind of place you'd expect to find lots of contracts. Or a court to play in,” she added after glancing at Jaskier's lute case.

“Geralt needed some holidays,” Jaskier replied at the same time Geralt said “Jaskier wanted to see the mountains.”

“What?” Geralt blurted out, freezing.

Jaskier turned to him, a soft look in his eyes. Violet watched them without saying anything, an amused smile on her lips.

“Geralt, you spent the whole winter being a teacher to- Fiona, and before that you spent the whole year hunting monsters and saving humanity. You deserved a break. Though, frankly, I didn't expect you to agree so easily.”

Geralt hummed. Jaskier didn’t know that he would agree to anything he would ask, though he was sure the other man was already aware of that, to some extent. Jaskier laughed, gently took his arm, and faced the woman again.

“See? The things I have to do?”

“My wife’s the same. I swear, she wouldn’t rest if I wasn’t there to remind her,” she smiled before adding, “Lila – my wife – and I are taking care of a sort of refuge for travelers, like you; eat lunch with us, and we'll see if we can ready a room for you, so you won't have to worry about sleeping in the woods tonight.”

“It's fine,” Jaskier started, “we-”

“You shouldn't,” the woman insisted, “there's something lurking around at night – it has killed two sheep already, and our old dog too, it- it wasn't pretty to see. My wife had to put an end to his misery, it was – rough.”

The pain was evident in her eyes, reflecting the loss of a life companion. Geralt saw Jaskier put his hand on Roach’s muzzle.

“So when you said there was no contract here-” Geralt tried to ask.

“Ah, well. It's just that, I'm afraid we don't have much coin to offer you, sir witcher. A beast, but no contracts,” she shrugged, though he could see she was tired.

Jaskier took his hand and squeezed it; Geralt tried very hard not to feel too warm at that, and hummed. His bard smiled knowingly.

“I'll take care of the beast,” Geralt said, “in exchange for lunch, and ale for my bard, if you have some.”

Violet smiled at them, a bit unsure but grateful nonetheless.

“Follow me, it’s not that far.”

She then started walking and they followed, still staying close to each other.

“I think we may have some goat cheese left,” Violet said, still in front of them, expertly avoiding stepping on unsteady rocks. “My wife makes them and they’re delicious – and I swear I’m not biased!”

Jaskier replied something; what, Geralt didn’t know. He let him carry the conversation like he always did, smiling and winking and actually caring about what was being said to him. Geralt was just happy to be there, Jaskier next to him. Happy to be known, too – he did need to take a break, after spending the whole winter teaching Ciri, and the beginning of spring fighting monsters. He would take care of Violet and her wife’s problem, they’d spend the night here, and they would go on the day after, pleased to be in each other's company. Maybe the life of a witcher could be sunny, too, sometimes.

***

“Honey? I found travelers that haven’t tasted your fine goat cheese yet!” Violet called out, a grin on her face as she opened the door of her house, the bells that were hung on it happily tinkling.

They had walked for ten minutes on a dusty road after finding Violet, the dog Charcoal running back and forth around them, always going back to her but lingering around Geralt in hope that he would pet him.

Jaskier knew that Geralt had a sweet spot for animals even if they didn’t always return it; he could think of at least three different occurrences where Geralt had looked absolutely dumbstruck when a dog had made its way to him before standing on his hind legs to beg for pets. On one occasion, a cat had made its way to their table when they were sitting in a tavern, and Jaskier would never forget how Geralt’s face had softened when the cat had allowed him to pet it.

Jaskier hid a smile when Geralt removed one of his gloves to pet the dog, who wagged his tail in obvious joy. Fuck, but bringing Geralt here had been a wonderful idea.

They were now waiting outside an admittedly pretty good-looking house, made out of dark stones that once must have been part of the volcanoes around them. The wood shutters looked old, but it seemed like someone had been carefully treating the wood with oil that would make it last longer, and it was overall obvious that the house was very well cared for – that it was not only a house, but also a home. Small, little violet flowers that Jaskier recognized as crocuses were growing under the windows, and it was absurd how much it made the place look welcoming and happy, as if an artist had put their brush here, adding a soft touch of color to an almost dark painting.

Jaskier was putting weight on his right leg since his left knee was still hurting him a bit – the bruise had gone from deep blue to pale yellow, but he avoided using that leg as much as he could, hoping that Geralt wouldn’t notice – though he had obviously failed at that, as Geralt had forced him to ride Roach earlier. It was something they did, now, Jaskier pretending that he didn’t want to ride and Geralt sighing fondly before helping him climb on the saddle.

“I’m surprised you even agreed to share it, honey,” a woman replied, short brown hair tied back by a black bandanna. She was almost tackled by Charcoal who in his joy to see her again had jumped on her. “Hold on, you doof, we’ve seen each other this morning.”

Violet was laughing again, and Jaskier smiled; it was good, to see people happy. It was good to see them with Geralt by his side, to let Geralt see that you could work but still let yourself be happy.

“Lila, this is Jaskier the bard,” Violet said, “and Sir Geralt. They’re quite famous, did you know? Sir Geralt said he’d take care of the thing that’s taking our sheep if we let him and his bard have lunch with us.”

Lila looked at them, squinting her eyes to see them better. Jaskier smiled at her, and Geralt – well, Geralt did his best, Jaskier assumed.

“Come on in, then,” she finally replied, “we wouldn’t want the stew to grow cold.”

***

The inside of the house was quite simple, but still showed that this place was a safe haven for both Violet and her wife and the travelers that apparently sometimes passed by.

“We’re not officially a refuge,” Lila explained as Jaskier helped her dress the table, “we just welcome people and offer them a room for the night – especially in winter, when it gets particularly cold outside.”

Jaskier nodded without replying anything. Lila seemed surlier than her wife but she still was a kind soul, ready to help. She reminded him of Geralt, in a way.

The room was nice; it was large, the windows letting the sun pour its light inside, brightening the place and making the floating dust look like sparks. There were plants hanging from the ceiling, and Jaskier saw that Geralt took a moment to admire them. It was strange, to see a house where a special thought had been put into the decoration – the places they were staying at usually didn’t care much for that kind of thing, and Kaer Morhen was more about practicality before beauty.

At the center of the room was a wooden table surrounded by two benches, one on which Geralt was sitting, listening to Violet who was animatedly talking, a dish towel in her hands, the dog sitting at her feet. Jaskier let his mind wander as he set down the pitcher full of wine but was brought back by the mention of his name in Violet and Geralt’s conversation.

“Jaskier and you, do I need to prepare two rooms? We have enough of them, it wouldn’t bother us.”

He tensed, but still pretended that he wasn’t listening. It would be weird, not sleeping next to Geralt after all these years – even at Kaer Morhen they had shared a room, Geralt not quite ready to let him go after barely escaping Nilfgaard and Jaskier needing the proximity of his witcher to be able to fall asleep. And they shared all the time on the path, to share warmth and to save coin.

But there were no threats here, no need to save their coin, and so Jaskier prepared himself for a sleepless night. It would be fine, not reading to Geralt, not braiding his hair before going to bed – it would be fine.

“Just one room will be enough,” Geralt replied, and Jaskier almost dropped the glasses he was about to put on the table. Well, that – that was nice. Maybe Geralt needed him close to be able to sleep, too.

Jaskier glanced up and met Lila’s eyes; she raised an eyebrow at him, clearly aware of his inner turmoil.

“Lunch is ready,” she announced instead of saying whatever it was that she had been thinking about Jaskier and his… feelings… for his traveling companion.

They took place on the benches, Jaskier and Geralt facing each other. Lila served the stew, and Geralt took Jaskier’s plate wordlessly, taking the carrots out of it and then giving it back to him. Jaskier smiled at his friend, and Geralt shrugged as if it were normal. Which it was, had been ever since Jaskier had said twenty years ago that he didn’t like carrots.

“So this beast,” Jaskier started, munching on his stew, “what does it do, exactly?”

Violet and Lila exchanged a glance, and Lila put her fork down, drinking a bit of wine before answering. Geralt had not stopped eating, though Jaskier had seen him discreetly hand Charcoal a piece of bread.

“It- takes the sheep,” Lila started, “and nothing else. Happens only at night, though, and Violet wanted to stay up but I told her that I’d rather not lose her to that thing. What are a few sheep next to my wife?”

Violet had blushed a little, but was fondly looking at her wife.

“There were footprints,” Lila went on, “but not ones that I could identify. Like, they look like ones of a wolf, but – they weren’t, not really.”

They all fell into a contemplative silence only broken by Charcoal’s loud breathing. Geralt slipped him another piece of bread, and Jaskier bit his cheek to prevent himself from telling him that he was teaching that dog terrible manners by rewarding him like that.

“How often does it happen?” Geralt asked, acting as if the big dog wasn’t lovingly staring up at him, hoping for more food.

“We don’t know,” Violet replied, her voice soft, “some weeks nothing happens, and then the next we lose two sheep and our dog.”

She looked up at Geralt, and Jaskier was stricken by the acceptance on her face.

“You said you would go and take a look, Sir Geralt, but there’s no guarantee that you’ll find it. But that would be okay – it hasn’t attacked us, and we know better than to go out during the night. And – you being willing to go already is – well, it’s-”

“What my wife is trying to say,” Lila cut in when it became obvious that Violet didn’t know how to end her sentence, “is that we’re already grateful that you would try to take care of it, and that even if you didn’t find anything, we would be okay. We’ve survived so far.”

Geralt nodded, and Jaskier found himself thinking about a song about two lovers, facing what Destiny was making them face, getting hurt and injured but always having each other and always going on –

Then he realized that it sounded a bit too much like him and Geralt, if him and Geralt had been lovers, and his ears grew hot.

“I’ll still go and see what I can do,” Geralt replied. “I’ll go tomorrow night.”

Lila nodded, and Violet smiled again.

“Now,” Violet started, “I was wondering, Jaskier, if you would be okay with playing something tonight?”

It had been a while since he had played for other people- well, okay, maybe not that long, but still. Playing for himself was okay, playing for Geralt was more than nice, but playing for other people? That was what had made Jaskier start to play, first for his sister who loved music but couldn’t sneak out to listen to music she actually liked like he could, then for bigger crowds. It wasn’t about being loved by his public, it was about people loving what they were hearing and forgetting about life for a while.

“Of course,” he smiled, “I’d be more than happy to.”

“He sings well,” Geralt said, and Jaskier blinked at him before feeling his face warming up.

“Why thank you, darling,” he managed to reply before turning to Lila. “Need help with something this afternoon?”

Lila looked at him with the same knowing look in her brown eyes that she had had earlier, and shrugged.

“Not particularly. Tomorrow, though?”

He grinned at her.

“I look forward to it. Now, tell me, I was promised a very fine cheese, made by the most talented cheese maker of the continent – her words,” he added while gesturing towards Violet, “not mine.”

Violet laughed and Lila stood up.

“I’ll go fetch it, it’s good with bread. If you haven’t fed it to the dog,” she added while glancing at Geralt, who froze on the bench. Jaskier burst out laughing, but still took his own piece of bread and broke it in half.

“Here, dear heart, take half of mine,” he managed to say, shoulders still shaken by his laughter.

“Hmm,” Geralt replied, which only made Jaskier laugh harder, losing himself in the mirth of Geralt’s golden eyes.

#Geraskier #The Witcher #mine #geralt x jaskier #I love dogs #dogs are the best #cats too #but DOGS

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cherryjuicegf · 4 years

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witcher fic masterlist

i probably haven't written enough fics to make a real masterlist so consider this as a medium list. a trying list. more to come. (updated 13/5/21)

one-shots

forget-me-not | geraskier, 3k, T, angst, major character death

How could I ever forget you?

Remember me, love. Jaskier’s voice was so clear in his mind it might as well be real. One last desire, one would say. But Geralt had tried to forget. Even though he said he wouldn’t.

Oh, but he didn’t ever say that, did he?

when you think that you're bereft | geraskier, 1.8k, T, emotional hurt/comfort, tw none

And so the sea asked; may I take you?

And I replied; there’s not much of me left.

Yet the sea whispered; I will love you,

Even if you think that you’re bereft.

Sometimes forgiveness is all one has left to give. Sometimes it's not.

with you all along | geraskier, 4.6k, T, hurt/comfort, tw none

"You are an idiot, Geralt of Rivia. You think that, eventually, you are all alone and will be until the end of your days. You say you don’t need anyone and yet, here I am, bandaging your wounds and singing your triumphs. You need people and you care about them more than you say you do, but refuse to admit any of it, and you harm yourself in the end. Tell me I’m wrong."

Jaskier has some unfortunate encounters and Geralt's potions lack any sense of timing at all.

slipping through my hands | geraskier, 7.6k, T, angst with a happy ending, warnings in the tags

One does not crave one's touch until they're deprived of it; unless it burns.

what you run for | geraskier, 6.8k, T, angst with a happy ending, warnings in the tags

Jaskier saw the mirror again. Funny, one would’ve said he’d been there just five minutes ago. A lot must have happened in those five minutes. He shivered, furrowed his brows in thought. “Did you find the mage?” The helpless look Geralt gave him made him conclude that no, probably he hadn’t. But then, how did he end up like that?

Jaskier gets possessed. Geralt doesn't like what follows.

breathless | geraskier, 2.1k, T, fluff, mild hurt/comfort, tw drowning, read on tumblr

It’s nothing. A brush of lips. A taste of tongues. Cheap ale that Geralt now finds he’d willingly tone out the rest of his senses to taste once more. A soft moan, but it can’t be him, he’s not breathing. And then Jaskier’s head bumps limp on his shoulder, and he hears silent snoring.

He closes his eyes. And breathes shakily.

Five breaths and a sigh.

the hands that tend to me | geraskier, 1.3k, T, hurt/comfort, tw none, read on tumblr

Was it a bad day? Jaskier couldn’t answer for sure with yes or no. It was not bad. He’d had bad days and that one definitely wasn’t one of them. Still. He felt a weight resting on his shoulders, as if all the previous hours had settled on them. He sighed, returned Geralt’s gold gaze. “A long one,” he decided to answer. He turned around before Geralt’s eyes burned him more in their insistence. “I’m having a shower and then we eat. Give me ten minutes.”

Some days you just don't know what's wrong. It will pass.

one last time love | yennskier, 1.9k, T, fluff, mild hurt/comfort, tw none, read on tumblr

"You know that if you want my clothes off, all you have to do is ask.”

Yennefer hummed. “A'ight, then. Strip.”

Jaskier’s smile faded. “What?”

She stared at him for some seconds, appreciating his shocked expression, and burst into laughter. Jaskier let out a breath and laughed with her. She wasn’t drunk enough, not yet. The way he looked at her though said that he wasn’t drunk enough either.

Not yet.

Five times Jaskier told Yennefer he would take his clothes off if she asked and one time she did.

the spaces where our garden grew wild | geraskefer, 11.3k, M, angst with a happy ending, warnings in the tags

He cuts through the branches, desperate, but they grow back, thicker and thicker and almost hiding that raven hair, that red doublet behind their leaves. He grunts and shouts and pants and his sword rips the air like paper. He sees them again. Or is he?

Black, isn’t her hair? A chain.

Red, isn’t his doublet? Blood.

Oh, he’s too busy, too focused on the thorns. Of course he would, they have hurt him too much by now not to notice them. Yet he doesn’t hear the voices anymore. He doesn’t hear the screams. He doesn’t hear his name.

And when he does, it’s too late.

A study in gardening.

beside the salty water | geraskier, 836 words, T, fluff, read on tumblr

The beach is silent, except for the singing of a voice that resembles a siren’s, yet gentler, loving, warm. Like home.

Feel me falling, feel me sinking

Feel my breath foam on the waves,

For the sea’s my love, my mistress,

and my heart’s a heart that craves.

under the covers | geraskier, 584 words, G, emotional hurt/comfort, read on tumblr

Jaskier shudders. He realises, to his great surprise, that what he needs isn’t to talk or seek words of comfort. Thankfully, since he knows Geralt isn’t a master when it comes to that. What he needs, is to rest. What he needs is a break.

Comfort doesn't always come in words. But who can say no to hugs anyway?

a little favour | geraskier, 3.2k, T, fluff/light angst, tw blood and injury, read on tumblr

He hears Jaskier’s breath hitch. Slowly, terrifyingly slowly, he realizes what he’s done, and immediately looks at the bard. Blue eyes wide, lips parted. Jaskier whimpers.

“Geralt.”

Stay. For me.

No.

Geralt lets go of his hand and storms outside the room, his heart beating faster than a human’s. Before he closes the door, he smells the salty scent of tears behind him. He doesn’t look back.

Five things Jaskier asks from Geralt and one thing Geralt asks from Jaskier.

the stars bear your name | yenralt, 1.1k, G, fluff, read on tumblr

When she was still at Aretuza, she remembered how the girls looked up at the stars, amazed by a world that had yet to be cruel to them. She thought how it would feel if someone ever looked at her that way.

Looking at Yennefer, Geralt turns out to have an entirely different concept of stars than she does.

a lovestruck's letter | geraskier, 3.7k, T, fluff, epistolary, read on tumblr

The last letter wasn’t old. There, on the top of the page, Geralt could discern an erased Geralt, beloved, and the first letters of what seemed the starts of darling. Finally, Jaskier had settled. Just like he’d done then, Geralt found himself craving to actually be called what the bard first intended to call him. Instead.

Dearest Geralt,

Over the years, Jaskier filled his absence with his letters. Then there was one time that Geralt had to fill that absence himself.

series

songs for goodnight | geraskier, 7 works, T, fluff, incomplete

a reason to laugh | 1.4k, G

Jaskier knew Geralt of Rivia was capable of a lot of things but laughing was hardly one of them.

Well, until now.

for warmth | 1k, T

No, Jaskier wasn’t ordinary at all, not for Geralt, yet the warmth that burned in Geralt’s chest completely changed its source when, after a minute or two, Jaskier rolled on his left side, and having his back turned to Geralt too would be completely fine for Geralt to sleep guiltlessly, thank you very much, if only Jaskier didn’t also pull the blankets so that Geralt was, in every sense, uncovered whole.

sing me awake | 1.2k, T

"I didn't know your voice is actually magical," the witcher smiled sleepily and let out a long sigh, feeling soft fingertips trailing his face.

Jaskier chuckled. "Oh, it's not. I just love you too much."

in remembrance | 957 words, G, read on tumblr

Jaskier is the one to tell stories. As so many people do. A human need, one would say. Tell a story, even if it's the same but with a different twist, a different hint or air, still the same, and people will delight and sing and get enchanted and they will remember, they will remember.

He will make them sing. He will make them remember.

these hands of mine | 1.9k, T

"Have I told you I love your hands?"

"Yes, you have."

"Have I told you why I love them?"

"Yes. Many times."

Jaskier then hesitates, just for a second before slightly raising his head from Geralt's shoulder and gazing at him. A glint wild with tenderness sparkles in his eyes. "Mind if I tell you again?"

A sigh. Then a smile. "No. Not at all."

parent-shaped | 1.4k, G

Jaskier took both of Geralt’s hands in his, forcing him to turn around whole and face him properly. "Being a witcher is not what is going to make you a different parent. What is going to make you a different parent is the amount of love and care and protection you’re going to give to this girl, and I know pretty well you’re more than capable of those things."

these lines aren't wrinkles, dearheart | 1k, T

The one where Jaskier has self-knowledge and Geralt is too blinded with love to accept it.

tumblr ficlets/prompts

allergies | geraskier, 533 words, inspired by art

Jaskier is delighted to find out that witchers do, in fact, have allergies.

early morning kisses, geraskier, 482 words

Jaskier is not a morning person and Geralt just indulges him.

prison buds | yennskier, 376 words, inspired by art

In which Jaskier gets sick and Yennefer realizes she's scared.

Guilty/self loathing Geralt after he can’t save a child during a contract, with Jaskier comforting him and being horrified about how much emotion and hurt he hides (geraskier)

Jaskier gets cursed by a mage that puts him on a killing spree but before he can do anything Geralt shows up and grabs him except he doesn’t have any rope or anything to hold Jaskier down but himself. (ao3) geraskier, T, 1.4k, hurt/comfort

(5+1) 5 times Geralt showed Jaskier he loves him +1 time he actually said it out loud. (ao3) geraskier, T, 2.1k, fluff

physical affection prompts (under 1k)

pats on the head (geralt & ciri)

a hug after not seeing someone for a long time (yenralt)

giggly cuddles (geraskefer)

an incredibly loud and painful high five (geralt, jaskier & ciri)

kissing someone’s forehead (geraskier)

the biggest warmest hugs (geraskier)

play wrestling (yenralt)

kissing knuckles (geraskier)

tugging on the bottom of someone’s shirt (geraskier)

kissing someone’s cuts/bruises/scratches (geraskier)

a hug that some might consider as ~too long~ (geraskier)

playfully biting someone (yenralt)

400 followers celebration prompts

There's people chasing us and I pulled you into the alley with me and wow you're close (geraskier)

I'm going to save you from the terrible date you're having (yenralt)

"Do you trust me?" (geraskefer)

"Please don't say that about yourself. Please don't believe that. You're so much more than that. You're so..." (geraskier)

I called you at 2am because I need you (geraskier)

touch prompts (under 1k)

in a moment of worry (yenralt)

on a scar (geraskier)

for luck (geraskier)

to say hello (geraskefer)

for comfort (geraskier)

for comfort (yenralt)

sensory prompts (under 1k)

orange sunsets (trissefer)

red wine stained lips (geraskier)

blood at the corner of your mouth (geraskier)

being so close that you can feel your lips brush together (geraskier)

raindrops on eyelashes (yennskier)

red wine stained lips (trissefer)

touch/kiss/hug/hand-holding prompts (under 1k)

tiny hands in big hands (geralt & ciri)

unconsciously searching out each other's hand while sleeping (yennskier)

hugging while lying down together (geraskier)

listening to the other's heartbeat (yenralt)

tummy kisses (yennskier)

holding the other's chin up (geraskier)

bandaging the other's hand and not quite letting go (yennskier)

group hugs (geraskefer)

kissing their bruises and scars (yennskier)

cold hands in warm hands (yenralt)

soothing kisses (geraskier)

made-up fic title asks

(why does it have to) feel so good

the spaces where our garden grew wild

we deserve a soft epilogue

once more

destiny called (but i forgot to pick up the line)

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #yennefer of vengerberg #yenralt #geraskefer #yennskier #ciri #cirilla fiona elen riannon #chrysa writes

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headaches-and-coffee · 4 years

Text

Waking up with the impression you would have a bad day was one of the worst feelings Jaskier had ever felt. He didn't have a reason to have a bad day, he reasoned with himself, he was at Kaer Morhen, Ciri was training with Geralt, the other wolves were all very nice and Yennefer decided she didn't want to spend all winter wheedling him. He didn't really know why he had this feeling of impending doom, so he just went down for breakfast. If the others noticed his less than sunny demeanor they didn't mention it.

He decided to stay in the library for the day, not feeling up to composing or even playing his lute.

On the way up the stone steps seemed to change their heights, making him stumble and cling to the wall. He felt out of sorts, like his brain was being squeezed and trying to escape his skull at the same time. He knew the feeling and that staying on a dark and mostly silent place would be best for him. He had the beginnings of a migraine, one of the ones that didn't go away for love or medicine.

Jaskier stumbled into the library and lowered himself on an armchair slowly, to avoid the splitting pains he got for as long as he could. He drew his legs up and hugged them, his head resting on the back of the chair and lolling to the side. Now if only he could take a nap like that.

"Jaskier! Jaskier where- there you are!" Cirilla's voice jolted him from sleep and into the pain that raged through his skull. During his sleep it had gotten worse, he must have kept his teeth clenched as an ache now traveled from his mandible down to his neck.

"Geralt asked me to find you because you didn't appear for lunch. You don't seem very well, should I get Yennefer?" she started speaking almost too fast for him to understand and altogether too loudly but slowed down and dropped her volume to almost a whisper after seeing him wince.

"No need, dear one, there's nothing she can do for me," he smiled through the nausea and only succeeded in making her worry more.

"I'm getting Geralt then," she turned on her heel and ran back out the door.

Jaskier sighed and prepared himself to face yet more people. He probably wouldn't be able to sleep anymore and his shoulders were also starting to cramp.

He rose from his chair to try and shake his muscles loose a bit but black spots danced through his vision and he swayed. He would have fallen too, but Geralt, who he hadn't even heard enter steadied with a hand under his arm.

"It's just a migraine, it'll pass," he said before Geralt could ask anything.

"You should at least eat something," Geralt pulled him closer and put his hand on the small of Jaskier's back.

"I'll just throw it back up," Jaskier tried to shake his head but stopped as soon as he started.

"I'm getting you back to bed. Will you sleep it out?" Geralt asked, already moving to pick Jaskier up, grasping his hips and lifting him. Jaskier crossed his legs around Geralt's waist and his arms around his neck, happy for at least not having to stumble his way even higher into their bedroom on a tower.

"I'll try. I keep clenching my jaw and making everything hurt more," Jaskier mumbled against the warm skin of Geralt's neck.

Geralt moved them fast without jostling Jaskier too much. They arrived at their bedroom and Geralt nudged the door open. The reason Jaskier hadn't decided to come up there, besides the amount of stairs, was that the bedroom had windows all around and the winter sun brightened it from dawn to dusk if the curtains weren't drawn. As they weren't now.

Geralt put Jaskier on the bed and hurried to close the curtains. When he looked back Jaskier had disappeared under the covers and had a pillow mostly over his Can I try something?" he asked and placed his hand on Jaskier's shoulder.

"What?" Jaskier asked back, not moving an inch.

"Just something I read on a book, when I was updating the library."

At that point Jaskier just really wanted the pain to stop and to sleep for a week if possible so he made an agreeing noise and jolted a little, much to his chagrin as it triggered another wave of pain, when a pair of warm hands touched his neck. They curled gently around his neck, their blades resting on the start of his shoulders and thumbs gently pressing, looking for something.

Bright, cold pain shot up his neck faster than he could do anything as Geralt dug his thumbs into the space between his vertebrae. He didn't even make any noise, couldn't really, as he tried to bring his shoulders up and move Geralt's hands away. It seemed to last an eternity but as soon as Geralt took his hands away he noticed most of the pain from his migraine had vanished, leaving the discomfort from tight muscles.

"What the fuck."

"I read about it in a book and then asked Regis about it. Then Triss. Apparently humans have researched enough to understand how to to both cause or stop excruciating pain with putting pressure on nerves. She taught me how to do it. In fact she seemed really interested in the matter," Geralt moved his hand to sift his fingers through Jaskier's hair, "Do you think you can drink at least some water?"

"Yeah, sure. I still don't think I'll be much use. I'm not actively wanting to die but I feel like I've been trample by a herd of particularly angry horses," Jaskier turned to face Geralt's thigh but didn't move the pillow away from his head.

Geralt lifted the pillow, bent down and presses a light kiss to Jaskier's temple before getting up and going to fetch water and something that wouldn't upset Jaskier's stomach too much.

After Jaskier drank and ate, Geralt made him take off his sweat soaked shirt and massaged the knots out of his shoulders and neck. Jaskier let himself fall into a doze, enjoying the warmth of Geralt's fingers and the weight of his body where he sat on his thighs.

After they were done Jaskier put on soft sleeping shirt and Geralt brought him to lay with his head in his chest. His arm took the place of the pillow Jaskier had over his head for pressure and he gently scratched his nails along his scalp.

Jaskier had started the day dreading every second, but over the course of events he could admit this was the better outcome. He smiled softly as he heard Geralt absentmindedly hum a tune, feeling his hands caress his hair and back. Sleep took him slowly, the last thing he felt was another light kiss to his forehead.

#the witcher #geraskier #gerlion #geralt x jaskier #Geralt of Rivia #Jaskier #myfic

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crowleyellestair · 4 years

Note

Hope you’re alright, after getting your wisdom teeth removed. You’ve asked for fluffy requests, and I’ve got one for you!!! How about Jaskier and the female reader having some children, and the Witcher’s (Geralt, Eskel, Lambert) being soft lovable uncles (even if they don’t want to admit it). Lots of cute fluffiness!! ❤️ Please and thank you!!

AN//// I’m doing fine other than not feeling my face. Thank you for sending this in!!!!! I need some fluffy scenarios to keep my mind off of it. It’s a little short, but I like it, and I hope you do too!!!

Y/n spun around to the kitchen table, hands quickly fitting under her daughter’s arms. The child giggled, but it was over shadowed by the loud, “but mom,” ringing in her ears. Fingers thread through the woman’s hair as the larger boy on her back tried to grab her attention.

“Alexi, that’s enough.” The boy huffed, but slid from her back. Large blue eyes, that contended even his fathers, stared with a disbelieving tone. Y/n simply rolled her eyes, and brought Lavinia to the sink. A wet cloth tried in vain to scrub the grime off of her daughter’s large cheeks. Alexi followed, huffing and placing his hands on his hips.

“But you promised.” Her free hand wove its way into the hair of her four year old daughter, the color matching that of her own. Her body turned to her six year old, a smile trying to find its way to her at the spitting image of her husband.

“I think you’ll find that I didn’t. I distinctly remember saying ‘maybe’.” Alexi’s jaw dropped.

“That’s practically saying yes!”

“Still using maybe?” All three of their eyes flew to the door where the White Wolf enveloped the doorway. A large smile spread over her face.

“Geralt! It’s great to see you!” Y/n’s attention was quickly brought away from her long time friend back to her daughter, who was bouncing in excitement, chanting his name. Y/n rolled her eyes, letting the girl go, jumping all the way to the witcher. The girl practically scaled his body, into his arms, a rare smile forming on the man’s face. “I will have you know, that ‘maybe’ is my specialty. The day you see me give a direct answer will be the day I’ve been switched out with a doppler.” Geralt stepped farther into the house, and a voice quickly followed him in.

“You said yes to the bard, didn’t you?” Lambert’s confident voice rang through the kitchen, his swords dropping to the floor by the door. Alexi was quick and quiet in his movements, but he flew to Lambert’s side, giving him a swift hug. Lambert replied with a gloved hand ruffling the chestnut hair, trying to stifle his smile. It was true he loved the kids, especially his ‘little apprentice’ Alexi, but he had a reputation to uphold. The young boy smiled up to him through thick eyelashes, and ran, tripping up the stairs as he went.

Y/n smiled, handing the youngest witcher a mug of ale, and a small parcel. His brow flew, scars molding with it, but she simply smiled.

“The kid’s been asking for knew needles, and I’m sure he’d rather get them from you.” Lambert tensed, eyes flying to Geralt, though he seemed too busy shaking all of the rocks out of Lavinia’s pockets. He quickly snatched the items, grumbling about mentioning his hobbies in front of others, and gave the woman a quick peck on the cheek. He followed the boy, knowing exactly where their little workshop was. “So, where’s my favorite of the three?” Geralt’s smile widened as he too was handed a mug. He balanced the cup in one hand, the girl still held upside down in the other. It fell however, once he took a drink.

“This is water.” Lavinia’s feet started to kick out, her left heel hitting the witcher’s chin.

“You’re not going to want to drink the usual. She asked every week when you’re coming back to fight. Bruxae and Katakan’s are one thing, Lavinia’s a whole other. You remember how Ciri was, and she was already twelve.” Geralt gave an agreeing huff, before letting the girl down, though she immediately attached herself to his leg. Y/n leaned against her counter, arms crossed, smile wide. “How is my niece doing anyways?” The witcher gave another reserved smile, placing the now empty mug on the table closest to him.

“On the path. She checks in frequently, though Yen always keeps track of her.” The woman nodded, pushing herself up and towards the entryway of the next room.

“That’s great, Geralt. I don’t want to say it-.”

“Then don’t.” She smiled, shaking her head.

“But I told you so. I knew you’d be happy in the end; it just seems people don’t listen to me.” She continued out into the next room, hearing him call,

“Even the bard?” She laughed, and softly replied,

“Especially my bard.” Y/n continued on her path, knowing full well where Eskel, the previously mentioned favorite, was. A crib was built in the lounging room, it being the easiest spot for it. It’s where Jaskier played most of the time, and it was on the ground level. The brunette stood, bent over the side. A finger was being chased by small, fisted hands, though they often opened to try and catch the appendage. Small giggles rang through the otherwise quiet room.

“She’s grown well.” The woman came to lean over the other side, not interfering with what was happening.

“Yes, for a one year old.” Her tone was jesting, and the ghost of a smile formed in reply to it.

“I saw her eleven months ago. That’s a long time.” Y/n smiled, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Sit, and take of the swords. Gambeson too.” His eyes squinted in confusion, but he only received an eye roll and shooing hands in reply. He did as he was told, plopping down stiffly into the armchair by the window. The view was beautiful. The hill the house had been on hid a small pond before the forest began and it was surrounded by wildflowers. The sun was high in the sky, Geralt being seen in the picture, wrestling with a four year old wild cat. He looked up to the woman as she approached, baby Juliet in hand. He stiffened even more, about to make an argument when he received another eye roll. “You didn’t hold her last time, and that must be rectified.” She quickly yet gently instructed how to hold his arms, and gently set the young girl in her knew strong cradle. Y/n had yet to see her husband, and turned to leave, though Eskel called after her. She smiled, placing a kiss on the crown of his head. “You got this. I’ll be back in a moment.”

The three witchers had always made time to visit a minimum of twice a year. Usually, they all came at separate times, but the house Y/n and Jaskier built was big enough for the family they all made up.

#witcher x reader #witcher imagine #eskel imagine #lambert imagine #witcher lambert imagine #jaskier x reader #jaskier imagine #geralt imagine

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nastybuckybarnes · 4 years

Text

I See Fire

Pairings: Geralt x Reader

Summary: Geralt reunites with a Mage he thought was nothing more than a distant memory, but their chemistry is hardly forgotten. When a new threat arrives in Cintra, you fight for a kingdom you do not know, and you fall for a man who you may not be able to have. You’re forced to decide between what you want and what you need.

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Language, Violence, Injuries, Fluff

Word Count: 4K

A/n: So many posts guys! I’m feeling pretty good, I hope it lasts! Enjoy this little thing which is a sequel to my other fic By The Fire

~*~

You bound through the trees effortlessly, bouncing from branch to branch with the grace of, well, an elf.

Geralt simply watches from his seat upon Roach, smiling slightly to himself. Jaskier has taken it upon himself to find a comfortable position upon your own beautiful white mare, chattering away about his time away from Geralt.

"Where are we heading?" You ask, hanging onto a branch with one arm and smiling at the two men. Geralt huffs out a breath of air and smiles gently at you before shaking his head. "Cintra." You nod slowly, mulling over his words. "And what, might I ask, awaits us in Cintra?"

Jaskier looks between the two of you, brows drawn together.

"Ciri. Geralt's child of Surprise? He likes to visit her as often as possible. And I'm sure our impromptu visit to Cintra has nothing to do with the fact that a certain mage is said to be in the kingdom." You frown at his words and Geralt glares at him.

"A mage? Who? Why is she of importance to us?"

"To us? No, not us. To Geralt and his cock, yes." You nod slowly, looking at Geralt for confirmation. The way he avoids your eyes is confirmation enough and you pull yourself back into the trees. Geralt shoots Jaskier a glare then climbs off of Roach, following the soft whoosh of you climbing the trees.

"(Y/n). Come here." You watch as he looks around for you, pondering what you're going to do. You decide to hear him out, after all, it's not like the two of you are married.

You drop down from the trees, landing with a soft thud on the grass.

"Yes, Geralt?" He jumps slightly then shakes his head, "damn elves." You can't help but smile at that.

"Yennefer, the Mage, she's a part of my past. Jaskier knows not what he speaks about, this you already know." You nod. In the few months that you've been travelling with Geralt, you've learned that the Bard can't exactly be trusted to tell the truth. And when he joined the two of you only two weeks ago... you experienced his stretches of the truth firsthand.

"Yennefer is my past, and you are my future." You smile and take his hands in yours.

"I trust you, Geralt." He kisses the scarring on your left ear then sighs.

"We should continue if we want to get to Cintra by nightfall." You nod and press a soft kiss to his cheek before turning around and jumping into the nearest tree.

"Damn elves," he whispers again, shaking his head with a smile.

~*~

"Geralt!" A young girl exclaims, running towards the Witcher before he's even finished getting roach comfortable in the Palace stables.

He spins around, hugging the small girl tight to his chest. You watch from behind your horse, intrigued by Geralt's blatant display of affection.

"Ciri! I've missed you." She giggles and pulls away from him, her piercing eyes finding yours immediately.

"Who's she?" She asks, walking towards you. Geralt smiles softly, a look you don't see often enough, and follows Ciri towards you.

"This is (Y/n)." You bow your head to the princess, a small smile on your face.

"Your highness. I've heard nothing but good things about you." She smiles and looks over her shoulder at Geralt.

"She's an elf?" She asks, eyes glued to your ears. Geralt nods then crouches down in front of the young princess. "But we cannot go advertising her heritage. There are still many people who wish to do harm to the elves." Ciri nods, looking at you with curious wide eyes.

"Geralt!" You step backwards as an older man walks forwards, smiling at The Witcher.

"Mousesack. It's been too long," Geralt says, voice monotone as ever. The druid smiles and hugs his friend.

"Come to visit the princess, have we?" He nods, hand resting on Cirilla's shoulder. "I'm sure that's not your sole purpose for visiting, now is it? You've heard that Yennefer is here, haven't you?" There's that name again. You can't help the anger that bubbles in the pit of your stomach.

Flipping your hood up, you grab your small pack off of your mare's side and walk out of the stable, heading towards the gate to the city.

"(Y/n)!" Jaskier catches up to you in an instant, glancing at your face. "What's wrong?" You shake your head and flash him a smile. "I'm simply scoping the area. I've never been to Cintra before. Perhaps you'd be willing to show me all the great city has to offer?" He smiles brightly and begins talking about his many adventures in Cintra. As the two of you walk, Geralt stares after you with furrowed brows.

"What is it, Geralt?" Mousesack asks. Geralt simply shakes his head and walks with the druid and Cirilla into the Palace.

~*~

"(Y/n) there's to be a feast for the Queen's return! Are you not joining?" You snort at Jaskier, shaking your head as the two of you walk through the forest towards the Palace.

"And have any one of the knights in there behead me for the fun of it? I think I'll pass, Jaskier." He sighs heavily and shakes his head.

"Can you at least sulk in the Palace? Or somewhere close by? Maybe even just stand in the corner of the room and watch. I'm going to be singing. Don't you want to support your greatest friend?" You look at him with an amused glint in your eyes and he laughs, happy that he got you to smile genuinely.

"Maybe. But I don't want to be just standing alone in the corner all night." He shrugs, elbowing you in the ribs, "maybe Geralt will come and spend time with you?" You shake your head with a chuckle. "No, he has his mage. I wouldn't want to impose." Jaskier sighs and shakes his head. "You know Geralt is head over heels for you. He and Yennefer have a past, yes. But you and he... you have a future." You shake your head with a scoff. "Geralt and I could never have anything. I'm an elf, he's a Witcher. Do Witcher's even have feelings?"

"This one does. I can see it when he looks at you. He does care for you. He might not show it in the best way, but he does care for you. He's not good with feelings. He likes to play into the whole stereotype of Witcher's not having any feelings."

"Fine. I'll join you. But only for a short amount of time."

~*~

Joining the Bard, you decide, is the worst decision you've ever made.

You're standing awkwardly near the doors, hair framing your face and covering your ears and hand twitching the daggers strapped to your thigh.

Upon Jaskier's assistance, you're wearing a dark grey dress that falls to your feet and drags a tad when you walk. The waist is cinched by a thick silver belt, and a couple of small charms dangle from the waist. It's a beautiful gown, but far too impractical for your liking.

You watch as Jaskier performs for the knights, lords, and other noblemen in the room, all laughing drunkenly while they wait for the Queen's celebration to truly start.

You observe the crowd through skeptical eyes, watching for any hostile move.

One thing that quickly catches your attention is the striking purple eyes of a beautiful woman. Although her beauty is stunning, it's the arm around her waist that gets your attention. Geralt holds the woman close to his body, a half-smile on his face as she tells him something.

He looks at her with admiration in his eyes, something you've hardly ever seen in the amber eyes of the Witcher.

He leans down, nose brushing over the shell of her ear, then whispers something that has her eyes widening for a moment before a sly smile spreads on her face.

Deciding that you've seen plenty, you make your way out of the throne room without being spotted and head to Jaskier's bedroom to change back into your practical clothing.

You spend the rest of the evening in the stables with your horse and Roach, finding comfort in the presence of the animals.

The moon rises high above you and guests slowly trickle out of the Palace as the party dies down. You decide that you've sulked for long enough and square your shoulders, heading into the Palace to congratulate Jaskier on what was probably an incredible performance.

As you're heading down the long corridor where the guests are staying for the night, you pick up the familiar deep voice of Geralt.

Chancing a glance over your shoulder, you feel your heart fall into your stomach at the sight before you. Geralt and who you're assuming is Yennefer, locked in a tight intimate embrace, her body naked and pressed against his as he pushes the door shut. You pull in a shuddering breath then continue on your way, keeping feelings locked inside of yourself as you seek out your one true friend.

~*~

"We're under attack!" Someone shouts, rousing you from your light slumber. Jaskier bolts upright, looking around frantically as you grab your bow and a quiver of arrows, along with your sword.

"(Y/n) what's happening?!" He asks. You look over at him with your eyebrows raised. "Just how am I supposed to know?" He nods, lips pursed slightly. You roll your eyes and load your bow then swing open the door to the room. Your eyes pinpoint the dark colours of Nilfgaurd, an obvious enemy of Cintra, and you let the arrow fly from your bow.

It lodges itself in the neck of one of the knights and the surrounding men turn to you.

"Stay hidden, Jaskier," you whisper, loosing another arrow that finds its mark with ease. The Bard hides underneath the bed and you fight the urge to roll your eyes, Firing arrow after arrow at the men that storm the hallway.

A door further down flies open and Geralt and Yennefer come out, swords drawn and ready for the battle that awaits.

Anger boils your blood but you otherwise ignore the pair, aiming and firing and taking down man after man.

When you run out of arrows, you join the Witcher and the Mage in the hallway, sword held steady in your dominant hand. You fight and you fight hard, slitting throats and puncturing stomachs, fury fueling you as you catch another glimpse of Yennefer.

She and Geralt fight gracefully together, as if they've been doing this for centuries, and that's when it dawns on you that that may be the case. They've been doing this for years before you came along and they very well may be doing this years after you're gone. You're nothing more than a temporary fixation.

That idea is only solidified when Geralt grabs Yennefer by the arm and pulls her into a searing kiss, the intimacy fueling their power and amplifying it until it knocks down all the men in the hallway, leaving the three of you standing.

Jaskier hesitantly peaks out of the room, his eyes widening when he sees the two of them then softening when he turns to look at you. You spin on your heel and walk to the other end of the hallway, mind made up.

You're going to leave. And you never plan on seeing the Witcher again.

"(Y/n)!" Jaskier calls, running after you. You don't slow, in fact, you move faster, dashing through hallways and down a flight of stairs.

"(Y/n) Wait! At least let me give you a proper farewell!" You stop at the base of the stairs, chest heaving with the emotions fighting to escape.

"Why? Why lead me on the way he did?" You ask softly, eyes wet with tears as you look up at the Bard. He slows, the pain in your voice making his heart break.

"I don't know (Y/n). But maybe we should let him explain himself. He may have a very goo-" "No! I will not hear another word out of his mouth. He thinks himself above the humans when he really is no better. He's no less of a monster than they are," you spit, eyes locking onto a movement behind the Bard's shoulder. You meet the purple eyes of Yennefer, your rage only getting more intense. You turn on your heel and wipe a splotch of blood off of your forehead, heading towards the intense sound of fighting.

"(Y/n) please!" Jaskier shouts. You ignore him, so caught up in your racing thoughts that you don't notice the men hiding in the shadows until the three of them jump at you.

Your shoulder catches the swipe of a dagger and you gnash your teeth together, fighting harder against the three of them. You successfully get two of them to the ground, only for the third to kick you in the stomach. You collapse onto the floor, the wound in your shoulder gushing blood around the knife embedded there. The man towers over you, a sinister smirk on his face.

"Well well. An Elf. Thought you were extinct." You take a deep breath, rip the knife out of your shoulder, then swipe at the back of his ankles. He falls to the ground with a yell of pain and you flick your wrist, the dagger silencing his cries as it pierces his chest.

You push yourself to your knees, pain flaring through your whole body at the effort. You're suddenly overtaken by immense heat, your vision blurring as you force yourself to stand upright.

"Jaskier..." You stumble towards him, falling into his arms as everything starts to fade to black.

You collapse against the Bard and he starts to panic immediately.

"Geralt!" He cries, slowly lowering you to the floor to inspect your wound. You've gotten worse wounds and never been fazed, but the way you so quickly crumpled to the ground has his heart racing in his chest.

"Geralt!" He repeats, jumping when the Witcher appears beside him, his amber eyes widening when he sees the state of you on the ground.

"What happened?" He asks gruffly, two fingers pressed to your pulse point. It's weak but fast.

"She got... her shoulder. But..." Geralt pulls your tunic down and feels fear pierce his heart. The wound is gushing blood, but worse than that, a dark blackness is spreading through your veins from the gash.

"Poison," he whispers, eyes flashing up to your face. You're covered in a light sheen of sweat, eyelids fluttering rapidly.

"Yen!" Geralt calls, desperation in his voice. The mage presses two fingers to your forehead and closes her eyes, frowning for a moment before standing and walking to the man with the dagger in his chest. She pulls it from him and wipes the blood on his corpse before wrinkling her nose.

"This is dark magic. Not only poison but a curse as well. This is something even I cannot heal." Geralt grinds his teeth together.

"So we just let her die?!" Jaskier demands, looking between the Mage and the Witcher. Geralt flares his nostrils and shakes his head, scooping you up in his arms and hurrying out of the Palace.

"Geralt, there is no place you can go where they can heal her. Her fate has been sealed," Yennefer says sadly, following him towards the stables.

"No. There is one place. Although I cannot guarantee they'll accept us." Jaskier furrows his brows for a moment then shakes his head.

"No. If they don't kill us then she will for bringing her there." Geralt simply hums, carefully situating you on Roach's saddle before hoisting himself up then tugging you so your back is against his chest, legs straddling the horse.

"Get on her horse. We don't have much time."

"Where are you going?" Yennefer demands, looking up at the Witcher with an unreadable expression on her face.

"There is only one race who's magic is strong enough to eradicate dark magic." Realization sets in and Yennefer shakes her head.

"A banished Elf won't be helped." Geralt ignores the comment and with a light nudge to the ribs, Roach takes off running, Jaskier following close behind on your horse.

~*~

Your body is incredibly stiff. That's the very first thing you notice. The next thing you notice is the dry air that's burning your nose with every inhale.

You open your eyes slowly, wincing against the yellow light pouring into the room. You keep your breath steady as your eyes scan the room, the rocky walls familiar in the worst way. Your stomach does a flip and you glance to your left, every nerve in your body on edge as you see the man that stands there.

"You almost died. Poisoned and cursed with dark magic." You say nothing, instead, you push yourself into a seated position, a dull ache throbbing from your shoulder.

"Why am I here?" You ask softly, looking around.

"You got stabbed with a blade that was enchanted. You were brought here to be healed." You shake your head. "At what cost?"

The man cocks his head to the side in confusion.

You kick your legs over the side of the hard bed, ignoring the way your shoulder burns.

"You may have the Bard fooled, you might even have the Elves fooled, but you cannot fool me. What is it you want, Filavandrel?"

He pushes off the wall, arms crossed over his chest as his eyes linger on your scarred ear.

"When you left, I searched for you. I admit I was harsh in my words, but I never thought... I never truly thought you'd leave for as long as you did. You branded yourself as the 'Princess without a home', but you've always had a home. You could've come back." You scoff and shake your head, looking East of his eyes.

"You told me that if I left I would never be welcomed back. That I wouldn't have a place here anymore. What did you expect? You banished me, cut me off from my only family, my home." He sighs and steps towards you, his blue eyes glossy.

"I was harsh, I said things that I didn't mean and I pushed away my only family. But you're here now, you're back, and you will always have a place here, with your people. They need you and they've missed you. I've missed you. So if you'll accept my offer, you'll have a place here, with your people." You look down at the ground, memories of why you're here coming back to you.

Your eyes flash around the room again, more thoroughly this time, and Filavandrel smiles knowingly.

"He's waiting outside, along with the Bard. They've been bickering for the past two days." Your eyebrows raise. "Two days?" You question softly. He nods and heads towards the door.

"I do not wish to see him," you say suddenly. Your brother smiles sadly and looks down.

"He cares deeply about you, that much even I can see." You scoff and shake your head.

"I'd like to be alone, please. I need time to think." He nods and grants you your privacy. It's shattered moments later, however, by the door opening and a large figure entering.

"You're awake," is all he says.

"Yes, Geralt. I'm awake. Now that you've seen for yourself, you may leave." He shakes his head, eyes cast downwards.

"I'm aware of how my actions may have been perceived, but-" "No, Geralt! That's not how you apologize! You told me I had nothing to worry about when it came to Yennefer. I was told that she was nothing more than something of the past, and yet you went with her to the celebration, you were in her chambers, no doubt getting your cock wet. You should've told me, at the very least."

He squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head, seeming frustrated.

"What Yennefer and I had... it was something like I never experienced before. Yennefer was a reminder of simpler times. Times when relationships were nothing more than physical touches. But you? You've complicated things. Because with you it's far more than simply physical intimacy. You've carved a place in my heart, as much as it pains me to admit. You've become a piece of me. One that is not easily replaced."

"It didn't seem that way," you whisper, flashes of him and Yennefer together plague your mind and you wince slightly.

He exhales and you can almost hear the internal battle before he finally speaks. "You... frighten me." This confession shocks you into looking at him. His eyes are trained on the floor, brows drawn together and hands clenched into fists at his sides as if it physically pains him to speak.

"You open me to being vulnerable, to... feeling things. It's terrifying and exhilarating and I hate you for it. But I cannot hate you for showing me love. You've shown me something that I haven't had. Something I've only ever dreamed of. An idea I gave up many decades ago. And yet here I am, pouring myself to you because hurting you is the last thing I want to do." His eyes meet yours and you see nothing but regret and truth in them.

"But you did, Geralt. Do you understand that? You say you don't want to be vulnerable because it's frightening. And it is. But the scariest part about giving your heart to someone is the fact that they have to power to break it. If you're so afraid of me doing that to you, why would you do that to me?" Your voice cracks and you curse yourself for getting so emotional.

He's silent and you sigh heavily.

"I cannot continue pretending that you are not hurting me when you are. I cannot trust you when you tell me that Yennefer is something of the past when she clearly remains a part of your present. You crave simpler times? We all do. That doesn't give us the right to hurt those that we care about." He steps towards you, slow enough for you to move away or tell him to stop if you want to.

When he's right in front of you he lifts his hand, the rough tips of his fingers tracing over the bandage by your collarbone.

He shakes his head, hating himself for not being there to protect you, hating the fact that he hurt you.

"I may never be able to express how much I regret causing you pain, how much I wish I could go back and change it." He rests his hand on the gauze, the warmth of his skin warming you through the layer between your skin and his.

He lowers his head, forehead against yours as he lets out a shaky breath.

"I love you, (Y/n). I may not say it often, but I mean it. You mean the world to me. Yen... she represents something that was fleeting. Brief pleasure. But you? You're a deeper desire. I feel the effects of you deep in my veins, in every breath I take."

Your bottom lip trembles, silent tears dripping down your cheeks as your emotions overwhelm you.

"If you wish to stay here with your brother... your people... I will understand. I will not force you to follow me, especially after I've hurt you. But you should know that you will always have a place with me, beside me. And no one will ever take that place." He presses a gentle kiss to your lips, soft and comforting and far too short. He's pulling back and stepping away from you, his eyes on yours.

"I'll leave now, but I will always have you in my heart, no matter what you choose to do."

He leaves then, and you find yourself with a decision before you. A difficult and quite possibly impossible decision.

Go with Geralt, leave your brother and your people and face the dangers that await the Witcher, go on countless adventures and be with the man you love, even though he may hurt you again.

Or, be the leader your people need. Join your brother and build bonds with the elves that remain, help build up an army and create a force stronger than men. One strong enough to take back what is rightfully yours.

Your decision is between your responsibility and your heart, and you hate yourself for knowing what you need to do.

#geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #reader x geralt #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt x reader fic #reader insert #Female reader #reader smut #geralt x y/n #geralt/you #geralt/reader #geralt x you #geralt of rivia/you #the witcher #the witcher fanfic #reader x the witcher #the Witcher fanfic #the Witcher x reader #the Witcher netflix

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discopiratetanis · 4 years

Text

Prompt: 12. I think I love you

Words: 5012

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Ko-fi

This prompt it’s longer than I expected to be, it got out of hand. But I am happy that I could write this much! So @leavemeintheocean this is for you, I hope you like it and it is romantic enough! ♥️♥️♥️

There are some musical references but I’m not an expert, so I’m sorry for any mistake about it.

(Again I have no beta for this 😔)

The ballroom was full of couples dancing. The music was so lively and vibrant that even Geralt of Rivia, the lonely and gruff witcher, was keeping up the rhythm tapping his fingers on his crossed arms and goblet of wine. It was unconscious, he wanted to thought, but the truth was that he was enjoying the music because it was Jaskier who was playing it.

The bard was in his element, confident, cocky, arrogant. Geralt could say he had smiled twice in half a minute when Jaskier had won a music duel for the fourth time that evening. Maybe his friend couldn’t do magic properly said but he could enchant an entire court of nobles used to the most refined songs in all the North Kingdoms only with his voice and chords.

If real magic didn’t exist, then that would be magic.

Geralt was leaning on one of the marble columns, almost hidden in the shadows under the gallery arches that surrounded the room. It didn’t matter how many times Jaskier dragged him to those parties, he never fully liked it. It wasn’t his territory, it was Jaskier’s. If he was there in the first place was only because the queen of Lyria and Rivia wanted to show him off, make herself look more important than she really was because a famous witcher chose her kingdom’s name as last name years and years ago. She was lucky his master didn’t let him use the first name that he came up with.

At least you’ll have food and drinks for free, Jaskier had said when they arrived at the castle, patting his arm, trying to encourage him.

At least, yes, he didn’t want to be sober all night.

A few ladies, the bravest or the most pretentious, he couldn’t tell the difference, had tried to get him to dance time to time but he always declined their proposals with a polite apology. They always pouted but left him alone after two or three negatives masked with flattery. After all the ladies’ attempts, Geralt always glanced at Jaskier, finding out that the bard was also looking at him, with a funny smile spread on his lips and almost laughing.

Every fucking time.

And Geralt always reacted to that smile with a resigned frown and a sip of his wine, just because that made Jaskier laugh in the end. And one of the few things that could help Geralt endure what was left of the party was to see Jaskier laughing. To see his bright, pure and precious smile even if it was at his own expense.

He could say he didn’t know when he had started to think like that, and it would be a blatantly lie. He knew that one day he had woken up, (and Geralt would always deny it, but he remembered that day perfectly.) he had seen Jaskier smile during breakfast and had felt something. Something that made him take a deep breath and look at him in silence when Jaskier was distracted. Something that made him softer around him, something that made him lend Jaskier all the blankets at night (because Jaskier was human and…), to put a hand on his forehead if the bard had nightmares and use Axii to calm him down.

Something that made him want to make Jaskier smile and laugh, want to make him feel safe and sound. Appreciated. Admired. Respected.

Loved.

Geralt grunted, drinking all remains of his wine and gave the goblet to a maid that was passing by. His head was fuzzy already, buzzing with all those thoughts.

The last song was a fast and wild string strumming, the sixth or seventh duel between bards. Of course, Jaskier the Songbird was the winner. Again. The crowd, including the royal family, burst into thunderous applause and shouts. Geralt hissed and frowned a little, overwhelmed by the commotion. That was partially the reason he always was a distant bastard in parties, as much as he could and as much the social code allowed him to be without looking an ungrateful guest. He watched Jaskier bathing in praises and compliments, in claps in the shoulder and gifts from some of the court’ ladies, and licked his teeth. He began to feel that something again, warm and cozy, before it transformed in somewhat much more green and monstrous.

Geralt had to take a long breath and close his eyes. He took another breath and exhaled it slowly, thinking on that day, that winter morning when Jaskier smiled and he felt that something for the first time. When he opened it, the bard was walking at a steady pace towards him, making his way through the dancers and the musicians who were still congratulating him. Jaskier was radiant, and Geralt thought he was beautiful even if he was heated, had his forehead pearly with sweat and his cheeks red. The something warm ate the somewhat green and monstrous, and made Geralt curved a slight smile while watching Jaskier almost rushing to him.

“Geralt!” Jaskier was breathless. He had his lute well held under his arm “Have you seen it? Gods, I thought I was going to run out of air.”

Jaskier tugged his doublet’ collar and untied three buttons. Geralt slid his eyes down his neck, tilting his head a little.

“I saw it, and I heard it,” he said. Jaskier huffed. “Good job, Songbird.”

Even with all the noise, with all the sounds surrounding him, Geralt could hear Jaskier’s heart beating faster than before and smell his happiness. Jaskier smiled and looked away from a second. The witcher knew there was coy in his eyes. If Jaskier was radiant before, now he was glowing like the sun at his summer’ zenith.

“Thank you,” Jaskier replied, looking up at Geralt, and frowned a little with guilt. “I know you don’t like being at these parties.”

Geralt felt how his own expression went soft.

“Well,” he said. “It’s not that terrible. As you always say there’s free food, free drinks, sometimes good company…”

“Oh?”, Jaskier raised his eyebrows and looked around. Geralt bit his inner cheek while Jaskier wasn’t looking and shook slightly his head with denied. His face went flat and serious when Jaskier looked at him again, this time suspicious. “But I’ve seen you rejecting all the ladies who wanted to dance with you?”

It was Geralt’s turn to raise his eyebrows, letting Jaskier try to figure out what was he had meant. Jaskier stared at him for a moment, then blinked, confuse. He parted his lips.

"You–”

“Jaskier!”

Jaskier turned around. A woman with a fiddle in her hands approached them, also heated and exhilarated. Geralt threw her a look, smelling her enthusiasm. She was young, long blonde hair, big green eyes, freckles… She was more girl than woman actually, with her cute golden dress that matched with all the other bards’ golden clothes.

“Lena,” Jaskier greeted with a smile.

The girl, Lena, glanced at Geralt, curious (and he noticed that curiosity was genuine and had no malice), but looked at Jaskier immediately after. Geralt watched them in silence, waiting.

“Prince Marek wants us to play The Sun and Moon Waltz so he can dance it with his wife, we need you to guide us.”

Jaskier snorted, smiling.

“You need me or you wanted me to?”

“Well…”

Geralt snorted too. The girl looked like she was caught drinking ale when she was told not to do it. Suddenly, Geralt thought Lena must have been a few years older than Ciri, and that thought made him feel… remorseful. Only a little. Only for a moment.

“Please?” Lena begged, almost hugging her instrument. “You are the best of us, no one can play music and sing as you do it.”

Jaskier turned towards Geralt, inflated with pride.

“See? Someone knows the truth, Geralt of Rivia,” he said, triumphantly. Geralt rolled his eyes. Lena didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or not. “I don’t know, darling,” he said to her. “I think I need a break, at least for the next half hour.”

“Oh, but–”

“You can ask Betricze, she’s the composer, no?”

“Betricze is the one who wants you to lead us, in fact. She said that you would want to inflate more of your ego.”

Jaskier groaned and Geralt thought it was an excellent imitation of his own grunts. He couldn’t help to smile.

“Of course she said that,” Jaskier mumbled. Then he sighed, resigned. Geralt didn’t need his witcher senses to know his friend didn’t want to return with the other bards yet. “Give me a moment, I–”

“Tell that lady that Jaskier will not play that song with you.” Geralt interfered, his voice low and harsh but calm. He straightened and took one step ahead slowly, circling Jaskier’s waist with his arm. He felt the bard going stiff, his heartbeat faster than before, his scent spiced with nervousness. Geralt held his breath. “Tell her that the witcher wants his bard with him after all night waiting and if she has a problem with that she can go fuck herself.”

Lena blinked, gripping her fiddle, and nodded with no words, flustered, face red. Geralt wanted to laugh. The girl turned on her heels and trotted to the gang of bards that were watching them from the other side of the ballroom. Geralt watched them in return with that scary face he knew he could do, pressing Jaskier back against his chest.

“Uh, Geralt–” the bard mumbled.

“Wait,” Geralt hissed.

He located that woman, Betricze, and locked eyes with her. She was older than Lena, mature. Geralt smiled fiercely when she frowned and huffed at him in the distance, starting to prepare the rest of the bards.

The somewhat green and monstrous barked a laugh and retreated.

Then Geralt realized that Jaskier was trembling. And he let him free.

The something warm didn’t want him to do it.

“I’m sorry if I got you in trouble. I felt you didn’t want to go with them,” he murmured.

“Hm, yes, well, you are right,” Jaskier cleared his throat, fiddling with his collar and the fourth button, not looking at Geralt at all. “Thank you. But I’m afraid now they’ll think something that it’s not true.”

“I don’t care about what some bunch of bards thinks about us while that doesn’t affect you.”

Jaskier grinned and when Geralt saw that pretty little smile in his lips, that something warm roared victoriously.

“That’s very kind of you, Geralt.”

Jaskier looked up, looked at him, and Geralt lost himself in his blue eyes, his pretty bright eyes full of passion and untold feelings. It was a moment but he felt it like a century as if time has stopped, with Jaskier in front of him and Geralt ready to set that something free. But then a soft melody began to sound and Jaskier looked away, distracted.

Geralt sighed.

The guests gradually moved away from the center of the room to form an oval space, wide enough for a couple could dance. Geralt saw the prince, a young man with black hair and blue and silver clothes, taking his wife, a very elegant woman with a long and puffy dark blue dress, to the center of that space. They bowed to each other and started to dance, slowly. The song was only instrumental, and only with strings instruments.

The crowd watched the couple dancing in a silence broken with sighs and aws of joy.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Jaskier whispered.

Geralt noticed Jaskier had left his lute on a table near them. The bard was much calmer now and had caught his breath finally. But he was still blushing.

Tell him, tell him, said the something warm.

“The song?” Geralt asked.

“Yes, of course the song, Geralt,” Jaskier chuckled and threw him a doubtful glimpse.

“I suppose, yes,” Geralt replied. “I’m not an expert.”

Jaskier crossed his arms then, smiling.

“Well, it’s not only beautiful, but it’s also brilliantly written.”

Geralt knew that Jaskier wanted to be asked about it, so he indulged him.

“How’s that?”

“It’s not for the technical aspects, though I could tell you about all the details of it if you want. It has wonderful arrangements and the harmony it’s a masterpiece itself.”

Geralt chuckled. In the oval area, the prince made his wife turn on herself two times, then he took her hand and moved two steps to the right, and turned around with her after. They were smiling, and giggling sometimes. They looked happy, comfortable with each other, in love.

In love.

Geralt slightly licked his lips and felt… strange, as if his guts had shrunk and something tightened his throat. It felt as if he had a big rock on his back, a sword sunk in his chest. He swallowed and felt it as if he had a heavy lump stuck.

“I think I’m not the best person to appreciate those things,” he mumbled, and in some way, he sounded a little sad.

Jaskier looked at him with a tiny sweet smile and said:

“Don’t worry, that’s not the most interesting. Not for the no bards, at least,”

“Then?”

“There are two main melodies, one played by a lute, the other played by a fiddle and each of them has a cortege of the same instruments playing their respective chorus behind.”

“They wanted you to be the main lute, right?”

“Yes, in fact, it’s the true main instrument. It represents the Moon in the story.”

“Oh?” Geralt tilted his head a little, still watching the couple dancing. “So, the fiddle it’s the Sun.”

“Yes,” Jaskier nodded. “The two melodies are entangled, its harmony it’s the same, but the lute plays in a minor key and the fiddle in a major key.” Jaskier went silent for a moment. Then he spoke again, and Geralt sensed a melancholic note in his voice. “The story tells you that the Moon was in love with the Sun, but the Sun never noticed, so the Moon started to appear in the sky when it was daytime, glowing with part of the Sun’s shine to attract its attention.” Geralt looked at Jaskier and saw his distant and sad look. The sunken sword in his chest hurt him more. “The Sun continued no noticing the Moon was there, day after day after day. And the Moon felt despair and disappear. Then, during a sunset, the Sun finally thought: ‘Where is the Moon? Why isn’t it here with me?’, and felt despair too.”

Geralt swallowed once more, hard. He felt as if a claw had removed the sword and stuck in his chest, trying to tear his heart out.

“How it ends?” he asked in barely a whisper.

He sensed Jaskier beside him getting tense, his heart beating fast again, and that even he almost had tears in the corner of his eyes. The bard cleared weakly his throat.

“The Sun went on a long journey to search for the Moon– Oh, they are playing that part now, look.”

Geralt threw a glance at the couple. The princess, with her puffy dress floating like a cloud, was dancing alone near one of the extremes of the oval space. The prince, dancing alone too, was slowly approaching his wife with short and errant steps, pretending being lost without her. Then, when they met, the music exploded in a new sweet fanfare and the dancers turned on themselves without an inch between them, without tearing their eyes from the other. The prince made his wife turned around three more times. The princess took two steps back, two steps ahead, to her husband. The music began to fade. The couple slowly stopped dancing. They bowed to each other again, then they started clapping. The crowd imitated them.

“So the Sun found the Moon and they were happily ever after?” Geralt said while all the nobles and guests surrounded the bards to congratulate them. Jaskier nodded without words, smiling, but Geralt knew it was a weak and fake smile. “And it’s brilliant because… ?”

Jaskier snorted, then he shook his head.

“It doesn’t matter,” he replied.

“It’s important to you, don’t you,” Geralt faced Jaskier.

Jaskier looked at him, his smile vanishing bit by bit and said:

“You are indulging me a lot lately,”

Geralt shrugged. The claw tore flesh. The something whimpered.

“Do you want me to be the grumpy witcher as always?” he replied.

Jaskier shook his head, again with no words. Geralt watched him in silence too, knowing the bard wasn’t going to tell him why the song was beautiful and brilliant in his opinion. And he knew it was because Jaskier thought the Sun hadn’t noticed him.

But that wasn’t true.

The bards began to play another song, one much more lively, and some of the nobles began to dance it. Jaskier looked away and picked up his lute from the table, clearing his throat for the third time.

“I should go back. If the queen catches me wandering so much she won’t pay me,” he said with a resigned and tired sigh. He didn’t look at Geralt. And Geralt felt bad. “See you later?”

He was about to go when Geralt grabbed his arm softly. Jaskier looked up and blinked, confused. Geralt frowned, also confused, and parted his lips as if he was going to say something. The witcher hesitated.

“Geralt–”

Just for a second.

“Don’t. Wait,” he said. No. He begged. “I… I have noticed you.”

Jaskier blinked again, still confused.

“What are you talking about?” he said, frowning too.

Geralt held his breath, dragging his fingers along Jaskier’s arm until he touched the wrist. He wasn’t good with words, Jaskier was. It wasn’t fair.

“I… “ he mumbled and closed his eyes for a second, indecisive.

Tell him, TELL HIM, groaned the something warm and cozy, now afraid, terrified. He opened his eyes. Jaskier was still looking at him, now somewhat skeptical. Geralt gulped and felt the lump bigger than before, the rock heavier than ever. Jaskier sighed.

“Geralt, let–”

“I think I love you.”

It was as if the time had stopped again. Or as if he suddenly went deaf. The music, the chatter, the voices, the laughs, all of it faded away gently. There was a loud heartbeat in all that silence, and Geralt knew it was his own. It was slow, agonizing, desperate. Jaskier tilted his head, surprised, and then said something that Geralt never thought he could say to him after he confessed somewhat like ‘I love you’.

“Geralt, are you drunk?”

Geralt felt the rock crushing him, the claw finally ripping out his heart, the tip of the sword at his neck. He let out a deep breath and released Jaskier’s wrist. He didn’t know emotions could hurt so much.

No. He did know but he blatantly chose to ignore it for years.

“Maybe,” Geralt grunted, suddenly feeling tired, suddenly wanting to be really, really drunk. “Forget it,”

Then the witcher turned around and walked away through the gallery, also feeling stupid and an idiot. Behind him, Jaskier’s voice rumbled with a perplex echo along the corridor, calling him.

But Geralt didn’t listen and didn’t stop.

* * *

The gardens were empty, with all the guests inside the castle in general and the ballroom in particular. The moon was in its first quarter and shed a pale silver light over the trees and the small lake that was surrounding the fortress. Geralt thought it was ironic that it was him the one contemplating that view, the flowers on the shore, the ducks in the water, the fireflies floating everywhere as if he was a damsel with a broken heart because her beloved did not return her feelings. But he was not a damsel, nor his beloved did not correspond his feelings.

That was what pissed him off the most.

Jaskier, in fact, did return his feelings. Geralt was aware of how the bard looked at him, how he smiled at him, and he knew why he sang those songs about him, why he touched him with so much care, why he followed him with such insistence despite the danger of the witcher’s life, why he helped him the way he did.

He knew why.

And he understood why Jaskier thought Geralt must be drunk if he was saying that he loved him. But that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt anyway.

I suppose I deserve it, he thought, that was reckless and stupid, and out of time and–

Geralt let out a deep sigh. He was sitting near the lakeshore, in the shadow of the castle, with an almost empty bottle of wódka stoled from the kitchens. He wanted to be drunk, wanted to forget his stupidity, but his metabolism burned the alcohol before it could take effect. He thought about Jaskier, who probably was having fun without thinking or worrying about what had happened. He thought (no, he knew) that they probably will not talk about it in the morning or in the several following days.

Not if it depended on Geralt.

And that pissed him off too.

Geralt drank the last remains of the wódka and left the bottle on the grass and clicked his tongue with a grunt. Suddenly he heard the steps, distant and careful steps, and the whispers. Three persons, one male, two females. He could smell them, they were nervous. At first, Geralt thought they were nobles who wanted to have fun behind the bushes, but then he smelled the buttercups and the daisies and…

And there was music too.

Geralt looked back and saw Jaskier walking towards him. He had his doublet unbuttoned. Geralt frowned a little, more confusing than angry. Behind the buttercups, the daisies and the nervousness, he smelled hope. He got up slowly, just when Jaskier reached him. The bard had a cautious and eager expression. His eyes were of a deep blue that resembled the blue of the water illuminated by the moonlight. Geralt blinked, not knowing what to say exactly. Jaskier offered him his right hand. Geralt sighed.

“Jaskier…”

“Please, Geralt,” Jaskier mumbled, and Geralt smelled guilt. He took his hand, feeling it warm and a little sweaty. Geralt put his own right hand on Jaskier’s waist while Jaskier put his left hand on Geralt’s right shoulder. Something inside Geralt melted and whimpered. Jaskier held his breath and swallowed. “Do you remember the dance?” he asked, again with a whisper.

For a second, Geralt didn’t know what he meant, but then he listened to the music and recognized it.

It was that waltz.

The Sun and Moon Waltz, specifically the part where the Sun was looking for the Moon and then they met again. Geralt shook his head weakly, feeling his gut hot, like a wasp’s nest. Jaskier smiled, softly.

“It’s alright, you have seen it once,” he said. “I didn’t expect it.”

Jaskier began to dance. Geralt followed his lead. Well, actually saying that they were dancing was saying a lot. They were swinging more than dancing, slowly, sometimes clumsily.

But it was enough.

He had Jaskier in his arms, it was more than enough.

“Geralt,” Jaskier whispered, after minutes and minutes of heavy silence. “I’m sorry I didn’t take you seriously before. I can’t believe you told me what I had been wanting to hear for so long and that I disdained it that way,” Geralt squeezed his fingers gently. “I’m so dumb…”

“You are not dumb,” Geralt sighed, in a mutter. “You had the rights to think I was drunk,” He licked his lips slightly. “I’m sorry I storm off like that.”

“No, no, it’s okay, really,” Jaskier wasn’t looking at him directly. “If it had happened the other way around, I would be walking in circles whining like a child, and I would be thinking of writing a thousand songs about my broken heart.”

Geralt huffed with a tiny smirk.

“Well, I was not thinking about writing songs, but I was here trying to get myself true drunk if that comforts you.”

Jaskier looked at him finally. Geralt saw and smelled guilt again, saw the tears in the corner of his eyes.

“It doesn’t comfort me… I’m sorry,” Jaskier said.

Geralt knew Jaskier was about to cry. So he released his hand and stroked his cheek with his thumb.

“No, no, my little bird, don’t cry.”

Jaskier leaned into the touch, smiling, and put his free hand on the other shoulder, almost circling Geralt’s’ neck. They were still swinging slowly, pretending to be dancing the waltz. Geralt breathed in.

And then he heard them.

But idiot, just kiss him already

Please, ma’am, he is going to hear us

I don’t fucking care, girl, I’m tired of men incapable of doing romance properly

I think they are doing it right?

He stopped dancing.

And when he did it, the music faded, Jaskier huffed and hid his face in Geralt’s chest. Geralt patted his head.

“Alright, you can go out, you two!” he called.

Instantly, two figures appeared from behind a tree not so far, one carrying a lute and the other carrying a fiddle.

“Lady Lena, lady Betricze.” he greeted.

He saw how Betricze wrinkled her nose.

“Oh, don’t call me that, witcher,” she replied, clearly disgusted in general with the situation.

Beside her, Lena looked much more satisfied and happy. Geralt gave her a tiny nod. Jaskier huffed again and moved aside him, looking undignified and resigned.

“Thank you, Zeze, for breaking the moment, very professional,” he said, bitterly.

Betricze gasped and frowned.

“Oh, excuse me, Pankratz, but I haven’t been the one who screwed up anything, it has been your lover and his… ridiculous hearing.”

Geralt could see her face going red. He wanted to laugh but he snorted, repressing it. Jaskier looked at him in disbelief.

“Geralt, it’s not funny! She promised she would play all the waltz for us, and she didn’t do it.”

“Oh, come on, you weren’t even dancing,” Betricze grunted. “My song was being profaned with those pathetic moves.”

“Oh, yes? I’ll show you something very, very, profaned,” Jaskier began to roll up his sleeves.

Geralt caught him by the waist with one arm and made him stepped back.

“Alright, ladies, I think you can go now, thank you for the music, I owe you a favor,” he said.

Jaskier squirmed in his arm. Betricze smiled triumphally and turned around, going away. Lena sighed and began to follow her.

“Don’t, Geralt, you don’t owe her anything!” Jaskier exclaimed, frustrated.

Betricze made a rude sign to him and laughed. Jaskier grunted. Lena, still following the older woman, looked back and shouted:

“I think you make a great couple!”

Jaskier rolled his eyes but grinned a little.

“Thanks, Lena!” he replied.

“Can I write a song about you two?!”

Geralt snorted again. Jaskier grumbled.

“No, Lena!”

Geralt knew that No, Lena had an implied He is mine, don’t sing about him. For some reason, he thought that was cute. He let go of Jaskier gradually.

“What if I write it with other names?!”

“Go away, Lena!”

Lena giggled in the distance and ran behind Betricze. Jaskier, shaking his head, put his hands on his hips, still annoyed. Then looked at Geralt, who seemed about to laugh finally.

“What?” Jaskier inquired, displeased.

“Nothing,” Geralt replied, amused. “Bards.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

Geralt didn’t respond. He cupped Jaskier’s face with both hands, gently, and kissed him, also gently. Jaskier whined, kissing him back, circling his neck with his arms and pressing, almost rubbing, himself against the witcher. Geralt let out a harsh groan, a rough grunt, and bit Jaskier lower lip carefully, making him moan against his mouth. Geralt pulled away just enough to breath and rested his forehead on Jaskier’s. Jaskier was panting a little and had his pupils wide and huge. He smiled, laughing softly after. Geralt smiled too, kissing his forehead, kissing his temple.

“Can I ask you something?” Jaskier asked, whispering.

“What is it?” Geralt murmured against his skin.

“Since when?”

Geralt knew he would do that question someday. He didn’t expect it so soon. But well, he couldn’t blame Jaskier after all.

“I don’t remember what day exactly, but I know it was late winter, and we were far away from any village,” he said thinking back about that. “I was doing something beside the fire and then… “

“Then?”

Geralt kissed near his left eye and straightened up, looking at him, and his expression was soft and calm.

“Then I looked at you, I don’t remember what were you doing either, but… I looked at you, and you were smiling, and I thought: I want him to smile like that forever. I want to make him smile like that always.”

“Geralt…”

“And the day after it was something else as if suddenly I could notice all the little things I like about you that I didn’t notice before.” Geralt slid his fingertips alongside Jaskier’s jaw and neck, making him shiver with pleasure. “And then I didn’t know– No, I didn’t want to acknowledge it was something more than ephemeral, after all these years, that it was…”

Geralt frowned a bit, hesitating, looking for the right words, looking for good words. Jaskier stroked his jaw, watching him with all his sweetness, listening patiently, knowing that talking about emotions was difficult for Geralt.

“It was… ?” he encouraged him.

Geralt took a deep breath, hearing the precious heartbeat of Jaskier, smelling his scent made of buttercups and daisies, gazing at his beautiful, bright and radiant blue eyes, and felt that something finally taking shape in his mind.

“It was love,” he whispered.

And Jaskier breathed in deep too, before grabbing Geralt’s shirt collar and kissed him, trailing his hands and his fingers for all his chest, touching the medallion with devotion. Geralt kissed him back, slow again, feeling the heartbeat going fast, smelling Jaskier like buttercups and daisies but also like fire, wood and oil.

And Love sighed with relief, finally free, finally… at home.

#the witcher #the witcher netflix #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #geralt x jaskier #angst + fluff prompts #my fanfiction

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stressedspidergirlsfandomblog · 4 years

Text

So like mild book spoilers I guess but the legend is all that the Witcher will come back from (Avalon) the land of apple trees if he's ever needed.

So imagine, modern day is happening. Let's say the Continent was Europe. Wherever you want. Imagine that Dandelion is reincarnated. Ciri can hop time and place, so she could just show up. And in the books Yen is with Geralt already.

So imagine Dandelion showing them around (Ciri has already visited) and they do things like treat Geralt to all sorts of foods and experiences and it's just mind blowing.

Yennefer laughing when they try ice cream for the first time. Geralt being shocked to see people of all genders showing PDA. But not like at a party, people just smooching on a street corner.

Finding out with super senses that sour candy is truly horrible - to Ciri's delight and endless laughter.

Fried food.

Modern plumbing.

Electricity and libraries that anyone can access. Doctors who treat everyone. (Well. It's a magical scenario so we can pretend right?)

Like they can't even be mad they were pulled out of the Summerlands for this because so much stuff is neat.

Geralt losing his mind at an action film fight scene not being realistic. Driving Dandelion up the wall with his articulate and complete explanation of why that would literally never happen.

Holding hands in public. Lil cheek kisses and things. Excitement to try new foods. Being the history/philosophy nerd he is, spending hours at the library reading and catching up.

Of course, hunting monsters.

Zoos. Geralt talks about how he's heard of zebras but never seen one,(book canon) so imagine Dandelion taking him to the zoo and he just loses his mind. The petting area cracks him up because it's lame farm animals. And he's like no thanks.

The little ocean petting area is neat bc most of his ocean experiences include monsters. And while the octopus watching them in it's tank is freaky AF the little pettable sharks are pretty cool.

Just imagine them all having a nice day together, and living in a cozy flat or small home that has enough space. And Ciri pranking Geralt a lot with him basically going "that sounds wrong but I don't know enough about it to dispute it."

Imagine them all going to a monster movie or watching a show like Buffy and Geralt thinking it's a comedy because that's not how monsters work at all.

Or a horror film and he's just disgusted by all the fake blood and mistaken details and cannot stop complaining: If she had just gone right. Or picked up the knife. that blood splatter is ridiculous. People like this shit?

And modern Dandelion of course goes by Jaskier or Julian depending on how well he knows people. He plays his lute sometimes, his guitar others, his keyboard others. He's working on a doctorate at uni where he student teaches and loves it. He also routinely has small gigs with some friends all around town. In summer he travels more and plays in other areas.

Yennefer still dresses like Yennefer but in a modern vibe.

Geralt (book) still wears all black but he is very attached to soft shirts and jeans with plenty of give for range of motion. He likes hoodies, too, thinking of plenty of miserable winters spent freezing his ass off. He still wears his gloves a lot, and is weird about strangers touching him. He's still Geralt but he's very excited about nature documentaries and gets livid about history ones talking about aliens building things he saw built. Or people desecrating graves.

"you want monsters? Curses? This is how you unleash curses Dandelion!"

"We know, Geralt, we know." *Patpat*

*angry/indignant spluttering*

He deeply enjoys modern medicine when he gets sick for the first time. Other than the taste which leaves him spitting and wondering if Ciri is fucking with him again. She isn't, but she did so film it for the views. She adapts fine to modern life, having shown up before. She still goes back to her own timeline and place here and there but overall stays with her family.

Geralt's other favorite invention might be the washing machine and dryer. Since he keeps getting his clothes dirty hunting down monsters "just couldn't leave the graves alone they said. Might have artifacts they said. Fucking idiots" he no longer has to rinse them in streams and put them on wet, he can come home, strip, dump them into the washer on the setting that rinses extra, and then take a shower. Come back, put them in the dryer and have them warm and in his hands again in less than an hour.

Yennefer doesn't wear a lot of clothes that can go in the machine but she appreciates how pleased Geralt is about it all. And if she's being honest on chilly nights she puts their blankets in the dryer before bed so it'll be warmer.

Dandelion feels more at home with them around. He's happier. His students notice his hulking boyfriend coming to visit and bringing his daughter. She's super hot but has a really bad scar on one side of her face that twists her mouth a little so she keeps her hair over it. Any time Geralt or Dandelion see someone staring at her they mean mug the shit out of them.

The students are deeply confused when they catch their student teacher making out with his boyfriend but later see said boyfriend come in with a dark haired woman he holds hands with and kisses a lot. Speculation runs rampant and so do rumors.

It upsets the status quo even more when Yen comes alone once and they hug and touch and kiss some, and a few students see it. A few smart ones figure it out and some hate her and some hate Geralt because they can't figure out who's cheating on who.

End of year some brave soul asks which one he's dating and he's like ??? Both??? (Even if Geralt is usually the buffer between them bc he gets far less annoyed about the little things when people think aliens built Kaer Morhen. Fucking stupid! - so he doesn't much care whose coffee cup got left out. It's not his, it's too bitter. And there's pills with just as much stimulant so why drink something that tastes so bad?)

Also please imagine them trying to explain to Geralt why he can't wear athletic wear 24/7. Like no you cannot wear sweat pants at all times. No you can't wear skin tight underarmour I don't care about your range of movement people are staring at you. You wear this to work out in. no, you cannot wear tight pants made for running out and about especially without a jock strap c'mon man.

Please wear jeans and a normal t-shirt.

Also can I just say: therapists now exist.

#gerlion #yenneralt #yenralt #geraskefer #jaskier #geralt of rivia #geraskier #cirilla fiona elen riannon

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im-fairly-whitty · 4 years

Text

The Witcher Wolf: The Road to Kaer Morhen

Geralt and Jaskier have successfully retrieved Ciri just in the nick of time, but now must travel to the safety of Kaer Morhen with her and Mousesack the druid while Nilfgaard is searching for them.

Geralt's ability to turn into a wolf comes in handy, a mysteriously magical death unearths the beginning of a mystery he can't resist chasing, and he realizes that for Ciri's sake he must face the heretofore unaddressed relationship failings of his past.

Chapter 1 - By the Fireside

Geralt had spent the majority of his life on the road, had been accompanied by all manner of companions over the years and experienced every kind of weather imaginable. He’d traveled with plenty of provisions and none at all, had traveled with a destination in mind and wandered aimlessly for weeks. He’d hurried toward and away, traveled openly and secretly, on foot on hoof on boat and on one memorable occasion, wing.

But he had never in all his decades experienced anything quite like the past three days as he traveled with his bard, his child surprise, two horses, and a druid. A journey made all the stranger in that he was fleeing toward Kaer Morhen in early autumn instead of the first fringes of winter, and with what amounted to an entire peculiar family instead of entirely alone.

But perhaps the thing Geralt had least anticipated about this journey was the fact that every moment he and Jaskier had to themselves had to be stolen, and even then Ciri was more likely than not still the topic of conversation.

“I’m just not sure it’s all that safe.” Jaskier said quietly, adjusting his grip on his horse’s reigns and looking back over their shoulders to where Mousesack and Ciri were walking behind them. The group was dismounted for now to rest the horses as they walked, giving Geralt and Jaskier a moment out of earshot from the other two. “We don’t know anything about any group of refugees we’d come across other than that they’ll be tired and desperate. We’d have to be sure not to ruffle any feathers, any negative attention could be disastrous.”

“True, but we need to get more supplies, as well as news of what’s going on in the war effort, if Nilfgaard is looking for Ciri and where.” Geralt said, the hand not holding Roach’s reigns idly tracing along Jaskier’s back as they walked, just for the sake of touching. “And the only way to do that is if we mix with the refugee camps. We’ve been traveling parallel to them all morning, when they stop at the next town we should stop with them, just for the night. No one will notice a few more displaced travelers in town if we’re among a crowd of them.”

“They might if it’s the White Wolf; Geralt of Rivia.” Jaskier said, letting his hip bump Geralt’s, a soft touch of playfulness despite the weariness of their little group from constant alertness. “You’re too memorable darling.”

“And whose fault is that?” Geralt asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Mine, I accept full responsibility for the brilliance of my hard-earned success in remaking your reputation.” Jaskier said with a smile. “But that does mean you’ll have to be a wolf, leaving Mousack to do the rummaging about for information since I’d rather not be separated from Ciri and I don’t think she’ll be up for much.” Jaskier’s smile faded. “The poor girl’s hardly slept since Cintra, and we can’t risk her having one of her nightmares if we end up spending the night among the refugees.”

“We’ll only stay if the camp seems safe.” Geralt promised. “We’ll take turns staying awake beside her to wake her if things get bad again.”

Geralt had known logically that Ciri was a child of the Elder Blood, having known Pavetta’s powers, but waking the night before to the soul curdling screams of a child that put a flock of sirens to shame had been more than enough to put all of them on edge. Geralt had been able to get to her side and gentle her awake before any lasting damage was done to them or the horses--creating a serious sense of deja vu of a certain banquet long ago--but as Ciri cried herself back to sleep in his arms he had traded wary looks with Mousesack and Jaskier over her shoulder.

Keeping a child safe was one thing, keeping a princess hidden was another, but keeping a traumatized little girl who had the ability to scream a forest to the ground because of bad dreams was only going to make things even harder. According to Mousesack this was the first time the girl’s powers had properly manifested, but something he’d been watching for for years.

“Well, with Mousesack handling the errands that leaves the three of us just standing around.” Jaskier said. “If we’re really going to risk it then we need something less suspicious to do than than just hovering on the edge of camp, we don’t want to make these poor people more nervous than they already are.”

“And what do you propose?” Geralt asked. “Sitting down with your lute to teach the children to make flower crowns while Mousesack asks around for news and supplies?” Geralt said.

But at that Jaskier only raised his eyebrows, tilting his head and rubbing his chin thoughtfully with a smile.

***

“Look! I found more daisies!” Exclaimed Elenor, a little refugee girl whose shoes had seen better days.

She dropped her armful of the yellow and white flowers on the grass and the gaggle of children circled around eagerly grabbed them to add to their own flower chains.

“Well done Eleanor.” Jaskier said warmly, continuing to strum the gentle tune he’d been calmly playing for the last hour. “And they’ve got lovely long stems too, just perfect. Adam, could you help Nora with her pansies? I think she’s having a bit of trouble.”

Geralt huffed quietly, twitching a furry ear as one of the children leaned over to excitedly bestow yet another finished chain of flowers over his head. When Jaskier has first sat down only a couple timid refugee children had dared venture over to the bard and his wolf, but now Geralt was sure his braided collar was entirely obscured by chains of buttercups and dandelions and whatever else the children had scrounged up in the nearby fields.

Geralt’s chin rested on his paws as he allowed young hands to pet him, but he could still see the weary eyed parents watching from a distance. At first many of them had seemed wary, but now they just seemed relieved and grateful to see their children smiling and giggling over something again.

A feeling Geralt could relate to as he looked up to where Ciri was leaning against Jaskier’s side, one hand in Geralt’s fur as she dozed lightly. Coming into the refugee camp had been a risk, but at least being around the relaxed chatter of other people seemed to calm Ciri more than the tense silence of being on the run in the woods.

“Does your wolf eat children?” A little boy with a torn shirt asked Jaskier, sounding entirely unconcerned as he threaded the stem of a buttercup into Geralt’s thick fur. “My mum says wolves eat children who misbehave.”

“Regular wolves perhaps, but not this one.” Jaskier said. “My wolf is special, he only protects people who are in trouble, he’s far too handsome to be a monster.”

Geralt huffed in amusement, but his tail thumped lazily against the ground behind him as he leaned his head against Jaskier’s knee.

“Did yours and Fiona’s house got burned too?” A very little girl asked, her voice nearly too soft to hear over Jaskier’s gentle strumming. “My mum says we might never go back home, that dad isn’t going to come back.”

The children all fell into a somber silence, doubtlessly each thinking of what it was they were fleeing from, a heavy reality that couldn’t be forgotten in an afternoon of music and flower crowns.

“Yes, Fiona’s home got burned too.” Jaskier said softly, of course unable to sugar coat, but still able to at least validate and gentle. “It’s made us very frightened and tired, and angry at the people who did it too. I’m afraid it’s not a very nice way to be feeling, is it? Especially when the grown-ups seem to feel that way too?”

The little girl shook her head, her bottom lip trembling. Geralt carefully got to his feet, crossing the circle of children to sit beside her, whining gently as the little girl turned and hugged his neck tightly, burning her face in his fur.

Several of the other children reached out to pet him as well and Geralt settled down at their feet, content to lay there as the scents of fear and sadness slowly mellowed. Not disappearing, but no longer sharp as the children had something soft and good and pleasant to think of for perhaps the first time in several hard days.

Geralt opened one eye to see Jaskier watching him with a soft expression, Ciri still asleep at his side. Geralt wagged his tail once in acknowledgment, then turned his attention back to the children around him, doing his best to be what they needed most right now.

It certainly wasn't the first time in the last two years that he’d provided comfort in his wolf form, and he’d found it to often be more satisfying than any contract.

***

Geralt remained a wolf until sundown, becoming a great favorite among their corner of the refugee camp until he trotted off into the trees. Jaskier had explained to the children that it was time for him to leave for the night to go take care of his wolfy errands, and he had been bid several teary farewells.

By the time Geralt wandered back to camp—now dressed in light armor and a cloak with a deep hood—the campfires were crackling quietly and everyone who was fortunate enough to have a tent was in it. Some adults were still awake and speaking quietly to each other across their own fires, but Geralt could hear easily the rhythmic song of crickets and the night breeze over them as the camp quietly dozed in exhaustion.

“Welcome back, Wolf.” Jaskier whispered, shifting as Geralt came to sit with him at the base of the oak tree near their fire.

“Ciri asleep?” Geralt murmured, sitting behind Jaskier and pulling the bard into his lap, loosely wrapping his cloak around them.

“She is, Mousesack just relieved me of nightmare watch duty.” Jaskier said. He yawned like a cat as he stretched, then settled to curl up contentedly against Geralt’s chest. “You’ll be up next, but not for a couple hours.”

“We need to find something for her.” Geralt said, frowning. “Some kind of sleeping draught perhaps once we aren’t traveling and she has a safe roof over her head again.”

“I imagine the roof alone will do as much good as a potion.” Jaskier said, his voice deceptively light. “I know I’ll sleep better once I stop seeing Nilfgaardian helmet wings in every swaying tree branch.”

Geralt bit his lip, but hesitated to say anything. Jaskier had been sleeping almost as badly as Ciri, but whenever Geralt had shaken him awake he’d only said he wasn’t ready yet to talk about what he’d seen.

He knew Jaskier had been trying to grieve for the death of his spymaster friend as quietly as possible--what with all the danger and hurry their little band was still in--and had been doing his best to give the bard space despite his own questions.

And so instead of pushing Geralt only held him a bit closer as they watched the fire for a long moment of calm silence.

“I first met Wilhelm when I started visiting Ciri on her birthdays.” Jaskier said quietly, capturing Geralt’s attention. “In hindsight it was probably because he knew we traveled together and he wanted to keep an eye on me, at least to begin with, but we always had at least a few exciting nights together whenever I was in town.”

Geralt kept quiet as Jaskier paused, only his thumb moving to stroke back and forth across the bard’s shoulder as he waited for him to continue at his own pace.

“When he came to get me out of the dungeon he had a sword with fire runes in it.” Jaskier said, taking a shaky breath and letting it out slowly. “I’ve only ever seen you carry runestone swords, but it was glowing like anything. He got us nearly to the back gate but there were too many soldiers in the way and so he...” Jaskier swallowed, evidently experiencing a rare moment of words failing him as he struggled to push past the emotion in his throat. “He, ah, he decided to create a distraction so I could sneak past. It was...it was awful Geralt, I, I never...”

“You saw him die?” Geralt prompted carefully, not wanting to push too hard.

“I...don’t know.” Jaskier said, brow furrowed tightly as he stared into the flames of the campfire, shadows flickering across his face. “He lit himself on fire, Geralt.”

Geralt jolted a bit in shock. “He what?” He could believe the spymaster had given himself up to save an old friend, but he hadn’t pegged the spymaster as being insane.

“Not, not like with a torch.” Jaskier said, looking up at him. “He literally lit himself on fire, as in from within himself. He said his mother had been a witch who dealt with fire magic and that’s why he had an igni sword.” Jaskier flexed his hands unconsciously. “He said he’d never really used fire magic before because he didn’t know how to control it, but then he did anyway. It’s like he became fire, I could see it in his eyes Geralt, in his veins. He was in pain, but he still went and fought the soldiers, I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Neither have I.” Geralt said, frowning as he mentally flipped through the short list of fire related creatures he’d ever heard of. “He wasn’t just channeling it out from him like a mage? It was actually inside him and didn’t kill him instantly?”

“He became the fire. It was in him.” Jaskier said, huddling closer as the haunting memory doubtlessly replayed before his eyes. “He seemed sure it would kill him soon...but he did it anyway.”

“And you’re sure he wasn’t a trained magic user?” Geralt asked, his brain now seizing onto the puzzle.

A mage could create and channel fire, but not become fire without suffering immediately suffering the deadly consequences. A very powerful one might be able to stave off the effects for a few moments, but certainly not someone as untrained as Wilhelm, especially if he hadn’t been carrying any additional tools. What the spymaster had done had to be something entirely different than anything Geralt had seen before, and he’d seen an awful lot.

“Wilhelm de Drobiazg, spymaster of Cintra. Master of words and people and tipsy banter, but not magic.” Jaskier said, his voice getting quieter and sadder, the scent of grief descending heavily now around them.

“Drobiazg?” Geralt asked, his attention catching on the name.

He’d heard it somewhere before...but where?

“That was his name? Drobiazg?” he asked, torn between knowing Jaskier had reached the end of his energy for the subject and the familiar spark inside him that always took interest in unsolved questions.

Jaskier nodded silently, eyes closing as he wrapped his arms around Geralt tighter. He was done for the night, that much was clear.

Geralt pushed away his questions and shifted to pull Jaskier closer, tucking the cloak around them more securely. Maybe he’d get the chance to ask more questions later, but really the spymaster’s fate ranked exceedingly low on the list of concerns Geralt should be spending his energy worrying about. For now trying to make sure Jaskier got a decent night of sleep was at the very top of that list.

And besides, apart from Jaskier, he’d likely never hear of the dead spymaster again.

-------

Sure, Geralt.

#the witcher #geralt #jaskier #ciri #mousesack #the witcher wolf #wit writes

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