#but whatever happened. what that means is that geralt has been calling jaskier husband for YEARS

[roughentumble]

wait wait wait WAIT one day geralt mentions his husband in a sort of roundabout way, and jaskier is like YOUR HUSBAND???? and geralt’s like *amused* yes? my husband? and jaskier goes off to lick his wounds about it, because he had no idea, and he’s a little insulted that he didnt get an invite to the wedding, but mostly he’s just-- yearning. he thought he might have a chance with geralt, SOMEday, but not if the man’s already married!

the mystery man keeps coming up, albeit rarely, little comments like “i think my husband would like these,” while pointing out some jewelry at a vendor’s stall, or once jaskier caught him with a quill and ink and geralt said he was writing to his husband, “parting is hard but letters help to ease the ache, a bit.” at least jaskier gets his own letter, too, that winter. a little consolation prize.

or so he thinks, until it’s finally revealed that geralt has been talking about jaskier this whole time

#this post is a mess but i swear theres an idea in here like i can see it in my head so clearly #like!!!! maybe they did something that in Ye Olden Days would mean they were married but it doesnt anymore #and geralt misinterpreted it and just thought they were married this whole time #or maybe some drunken evening they DID get married only jaskier doesnt remember it and geralt DOES #but whatever happened. what that means is that geralt has been calling jaskier husband for YEARS #and jaskier never caught on. not once #he was just like. who's that other dog in the mirror. what is he donig here #jealous of HIMSELF!!!!!! #witcher tag #ogc tag #i know im a one trick pony but if you bully me i'll cry #miscomm-union-cation tag

[pillage-and-lute]

(For next time you’re looking for prompts) I really like your writing, and when I thought of this I wondered what you’d do with it: Geralt and Jaskier are together, but agree to pretend not to be for their next stop. Maybe one of them wants to win an old bet, or Jaskier’s not 100% sure his betrothal to a local noble has been officially dissolved, whatever, (not homophobia), fluff and high jinx ensue. Anyway I hope something unexpectedly nice happens to you today.

Hi Dahliavandare! Thanks for the blessing in my inbox  🥰

This ran away from me, tons of backstory about Jaskier’s family. Just, way too much.

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“Geralt, darling,” Jaskier said hesitantly. “I have an errand we need to run, and I’m not sure you’ll like it.”

Geralt hummed noncommittally. They were resting at their camp outside of Hagge and the warm summer air and the feeling of Jaskier curled against him had lulled him into a warm, fuzzy stupor.

“You see,” Jaskier continued, fiddling with the buttons at his cuffs. “I’m a noble, and you know that of course.” He laughed awkwardly. “And I’ve been lucky enough to pawn most of those responsibilities off onto my much savvier sister, but there are certain niceties that landed families observe that--”

“Spit it out,” Geralt grumbled, although not bad naturedly. 

“I’m betrothed,” Jaskier said. “And we need to go to Gwendeith to break it off.”

Geralt turned to look at his beloved. “You’re engaged?”

“Betrothed!” Jaskier yelped, then saw Geralt’s expression. “Oh, dear heart, there’s a slight difference in meaning, especially to nobles. Engaged implies an intent to marry--”

“And betrothed doesn’t?”

“Well, sort of, but I’ve been betrothed practically since I was born, engaged would imply I’m sort of planning the wedding. It’s a contract, a social contract. My family and my betrothed’s are pretty minor nobles, so really it’s just a way of saying ‘maybe someday our kids could marry’. It isn’t the hard and fast marriage it might be if I were, say, a prince.”

“Then why do it?” Geralt asked. Most of the time he was happy to understand as little of the lives of the gentry as possible, but Jaskier was important.

“Honestly,” Jaskier sighed. “I think Papa arranged it because he cared for me, Mama too.”

“It takes away your choice,” Geralt began.

“It doesn’t. A betrothal like mine and... Iliana, that’s her name, only met her twice, it’s sort of social insurance. Especially for her, but for me as well. Nobles are supposed to marry, so, if at some point neither of us had found love we could marry one another. For Iliana there’s the security of having a husband, although from what I’ve heard she can handle herself fine, and for me its assurance of heirs if that sort of thing concerned me, and companionship for us both.”

It sounded...mostly sort of logical to Geralt.

“But I love you,” Jaskier said. “And I don’t want to be betrothed to anyone because I love you and, someday, whenever you get over you allergy to the concept of commitment, I’m going to put a ring on you.”

Geralt hummed gruffly but said nothing. There was a slim golden band hidden away in his bags and he be damned if Jaskier got to propose first.

“I will. Anyway, I need to tell Iliana. I’m sure she won’t mind. I met her once when I was seven and again when I was nineteen.”

“Nineteen, when?” Geralt asked. Most of Jaskier’s nineteenth year had been spent at Geralt’s side. Most of every year after that too.

“Just before I met you. I had travelled east to meet her originally, and was going back west when we met.”

“Tell me about her?”

“Illiana? Oh, well, she told me that she was fine leaving the betrothal in place because it’s standard, but that she doesn’t care for men in that way so she’d never give me heirs and would have my balls nailed above her door if I ever told her she had to.”

“Sounds like she’d get along with Yen.”

“I fear they’d take over the world,” Jaskier said. “Anyway, I told her no worries since, honestly, heirs just aren’t important to me. Then we agreed that when either of us found love we’d break the betrothal and that would be that.”

“Hmmm.”

“No, Geralt, tell me what that means. Is that a ‘okay, let’s go to Gwendeith’ hum? A ‘I’m angry that you’re betrothed’ hum?”

Geralt shifted to poke the fire. “It’s a ‘I think there’s more you need to tell me’ hum.”

“Ah,” Jaskier rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s the thing. We have to go in person because a letter would be rude, but also...we have to pretend not to be together, while we’re in Gwedeith.”

“Why?”

“It’s politics, dear heart. It would be shaming to Iliana, socially. Personally, I don’t think she’d care, but it’s a courtesy thing.”

“I don’t do a lot of lovey stuff anyway,” Geralt said. 

“You think you don’t,” Jaskier said. He began to unroll their bedroll.

“What do you mean, Jaskier?”

Jaskier turned to him, smiling indulgently and gilded in the firelight. “Our lives have molded around one another, my love. When I stand beside you your hand goes to my back or my shoulder. You order dinner for me because you know just what food I like. When I’m tired you don’t have to ask what’s wrong, you just lift me onto Roach behind you.”

Geralt hadn’t even realized he did, but he knew it was true. Jaskier leaned over and pressed a kiss to Geralt’s slightly furrowed brow.

“When my boots are wearing thin you buy me new ones before I even notice. When I’m cold you give me your cloak. If I fall asleep with my head on your shoulder you’d rather sit like that all night than disturb me.”

Geralt shrugged awkwardly. “You buy me beeswax,” he said. It seemed a fair retort. Jaskier bought him beeswax to put in his ears when cities or sometimes monsters were too loud for Geralt’s senses. “You only buy light scents, even though I know you like bolder perfumes.”

“Yes,” Jaskier said, taking one of Geralt’s large, scarred hands. “We love eachother very much, and it’s obvious to people who care to look.”

“That could be dangerous,” Geralt began, his head spiralling towards worry for Jaskier’s safety, but Jaskier cut him off.

“No, dear heart. It’s obvious to those who care to look. The sort of people who would hurt me for loving you, well, most of them think you can’t love, so they don’t look for love, and they don’t see.” 

Geralt sat back. People saw what they expected to see, it was true. 

“We’ll travel to Gwendeith,” he said. “And unbetroth you.”

Jaskier kissed him and his lips tasted like the jerky they’d eaten for supper.

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

The trip to Gwendeith was long. It was at the very edge of any map, past Posada to the east, tucked into the Blue mountains.  They traveled along the Dyfne river, taking the occasional contract but making good time. This far from anything, there were few people to be troubled by monsters. 

They stopped in Posada one night, eating dinner in the corner of a familiar tavern. This time, however, Jaskier was much better received and the bread ended up on the table rather than down his trousers.

Past Posada, and almost to the end of the Dyfne river, Geralt asked, “Why did your parents pick Iliana? How did they know of her?” Lettenhove was entirely the other side of the continent, a tiny island off the coast of Poviss with two villages and a couple flocks of sheep. 

Geralt only knew of it from Jaskier’s descriptions, which were mostly stories of the ice cold sea and rocky cliffs. He tended toward calling it ‘idyllic’ and ‘picturesque’ altough occassionally ‘the arse end of the world’ and ‘colder than an ice giant’s ballsack.’ The first time Geralt had taken Jaskier to Kaer Morhen he’d feared for his bard’s safety in the cold of the mountains, but Jaskier hadn’t even blinked an eye, merely bundling up in a hugely wooly cloak and mittens. 

“Ah, well,” Jaskier said. “Long story, but Papa was in Temeria, see, since nothing ever happens in Lettenhove, because we have more people than sheep, he get’s sent on diplomatic missions a lot. He’s good at it, and he can be spared. He loves it too, even though he’s sort of retired he still does them. Takes Ma, calls the trips his little “sunshine vacations”. 

“You get your personality from your father, then?” Geralt asked. Jaskier didn’t talk about his family much, and Geralt got the sense that, rather than this being because they were horrible, Jaskier simply missed them too much. 

“Definitely. Ma’s lovely, and brilliant with just everything to do with her hands, but she’s not good with people. I got her looks, though.”

“I should thank her, then,” Geralt said, smiling. 

Jaskier chuckled. “Yes, she’s the reason for the long lives, too, fantastic story.”

“Finish the one about your father and Gwendeith first.”

“Right, so Papa was in Temeria, and so was Iliana’s father, sort of the mayor of Gwendeith, as I understand, although not back then. He’d gotten robbed, though, and Papa had won a horse and quite a lot of gold in a card game. It might have been Gwent, I can’t remember. If you ever meet Papa you should ask him. Anyway, he gave the extra horse and gold to Iliana’s father.”

“So your betrothal was a debt?”

“Goodness, no. This was years before I was born, Papa hadn’t even met Ma yet. No, they struck up a friendship, because when Iliana’s father got home he had a mage send a message to Papa to thank him and they struck up a friendship.”

“Sending messages by mage? That’s expensive for a penpal.”

“Ah well, that actually ties in to the story about Ma. Ma’s got magic, just a little, she’s a hedge witch of a sort. The issue is, hedge witches mostly use plants, and Ma couldn’t grow grass, so she mostly works with wood. Anyway, she has a friend, her very best friend, is a mage. They grew up together, and my Auntie Szarlotta sent my Papa’s first few messages back to Iliana’s father.”

Geralt smiled atop Roach. Jaskier’s storytelling pace was as familiar as Roach’s saddle, and it was calming in a way. 

“So, Auntie was sending Papa’s message when Ma came in to visit. That’s how she met Papa, because she’d only just moved to Lettenhove. Auntie says it was love at first sight, but Papa insists that Ma turned up her nose and ignored him for months.”

“Which one is it?”

“Knowing Ma, probably both. She’s a little like you, so the second she realized she liked Papa she ignored him so she wouldn’t have to deal with it.”

Geralt huffed good-naturedly.

“Anyway, Auntie Szarlotta agreed to send Papa’s messages for free, and she even included a way for Iliana’s father to send them back, so long as he wrote his response on the back of the same paper. She always timed it though, so that Ma was over when Papa was there. And I guess the rest is history.”

“Except the immortality.”

“Right, well, Ma got really sick when she was pregnant with my sister, I was little so I barely remember but Papa was so worried, and Ma looked really pale. Well, Auntie got really worried, freaked out a little, and she found all these old spells to try to make Ma well again. I remeber the light, she was working in a room of the old lighthouse and I could see the light of her spells from my window. Anyway, eventually she tries some on Ma, but they don’t work, and she just keeps trying.”

Geralt had an image of a frantic sorceress being watched by a young Jaskier through a crack in a door. 

“But I suppose some of those old spells need a little time to work because nothing at all worked and then they all sort of worked at once. There was this big, bright light and then Ma was well, and she and Papa haven’t aged a day since then.”

Geralt glanced at his lover, who looked the same at fifty as he had at twenty. “And you don’t age? What about your sister?”

“Ksenia hasn’t aged either. She looks like Papa, just so you know, grey eyes, blonde hair. She’s got two kids, now, but I haven’t met them.”

“Do the kids age?”

“Right now they’re very young,” Jaskier said. “I didn’t stop aging until nineteen or twenty, so I suppose we’ll have to wait and see.”

“How do you know she has kids?”

“Oh, well, Auntie Szarlotta sends letters to me, but we travel and it’s hard to send them right to me, so I just pick them up at Oxenfurt.”

“Hmmm,” Geralt said. He needed to go to Lettenhove. Jaskier had met his sort-of-family, he should meet Jaskier’s. 

“I’d love to go see them...” Jaskier said, wistfully. 

“Who?”

“My niece and nephew, they’re almost two and three years old now.”

Geralt picked Jaskier up by the collar of his doublet and placed him onto the back of Roach. 

“We’ll spend the winter in Lettenhove this year,” he said as Jaskier wrapped his arms around Geralt’s waist.

“Really?”

“Hmmm.”

Geralt needed to ask Jaskier’s father for his hand in marriage, anyway.

-- -- -- -- -- -- 

They made it to Gwendeith just after mid summer, riding into the little town at noon. Despite the season, the little mountain valley was shaded and cool. Jaskier shivered slightly and Geralt had to resist the urge to pull his cloak from his pack. From that point forth, they weren’t supposed to be in love.

Fuck.

They had to request a meeting with the mayor, which didn’t surprise Geralt. In a town such as this, logging and mining were the main industries. Trading for food to last over the winter began early and was of the utmost importance. That left Geralt and Jaskier, unfortunately, sitting with a man who introduced himself as Sir Boris.

Apparently he was a retired knight who acted as a sort of captain of the guard, except there wasn’t much of a guard. His wife Lady Olenka joined them and the two of them talked about their grandchildren until Geralt could feel his eyes rolling back in his head. 

At any other time, Jaskier would have placed one gentle hand on his wrist, which would have fortified Geralt, but they couldn’t. 

“But you’re here for Iliana,” Sir Boris was saying. “Dreadfully sorry you can’t see her today, I’m afraid there’s been an issue with the lumber trade to sort out. You’ll just have to have my darling Lenka and I as company until that’s done.”

He sent a huge wink to his wife, a slim, elegant woman, who chuckled and playfully hit him on the shoulder, to which Sir Boris pretended to be wounded before throwing back his head and laughing hugely. Everything the old knight did was huge, he was a large man with a round, red face and large belly and a laugh that could shake walls. 

“It’s no trouble,” Jaskier said. “I’m sure preparing for winter is a year round project here.”

“Oh of course,” Lady Olenka said. “But once it’s here we can all relax, and spend time with family.” She leaned forward as if imparting a delightful secret and said in a stage-whisper, “Boris has been our town’s Father Winter for the last four years.”

Jaskier made impressed ‘ooh’ noises and Geralt tried to at least look like he understood that. 

Boris laughed again. “It’s this lot,” he said, slapping his round stomach. “Better than some old geezer with a pillow down his shirt, eh?”

Geralt hummed in agreement. 

“And you must make a lovely Mother Winter, Lady Olenka,” Jaskier said politely.

She smiled, lines crinkling around her eyes as if drawing a road map. “It’s not as important as Father Winter, of course, but I rather pride myself that I plan a very good Midwinter festival.” Geralt got the sense that behind the modesty she was quite proud, and, he suspected, with good reason.

“But, you must tell me,” she said, modestly changing the subject. “Is there to be a missus Pankratz, now that you’ve come to see Lady Iliana?”

“I am a man in love,” Jaskier said. “And I am hopeful that an engagement will come soon, yes.”

“Oh dearie that’s just lovely,” Lady Olenka said, patting Jaskier’s cheek. “And you’re such a nice boy too, little young looking to be betrothed to our Lady Iliana anyway, although she’s a very dear woman.”

“We just love her,” Sir Boris said. “She’s a great mayor, not keen on marriage, but nobody minds, she just seems to have adopted the whole town as family.”

Lady Olenka patted her husband’s broad shoulder. “It was smart of you not to bring your love here, though. There’s some nobles here from Lyria, that’s who she’s been trading with, and I think they’d like any excuse to disparage here.” She lowered her voice again. “You know how those lot are about having women in charge.”

“I can’t relate,” Sir Boris laughed. “Lenka’s the ruler in our house.” That got a laugh because it had to, and because Sir Boris’s laugh was surprisingly infectious. 

“Good on you bringing a bodyguard too,” he said once the laughter had abated. He slapped Geralt companionably on the back, which was like being hit by a friendly battering ram. “Witcher too, don’t get many up here, but I bet you’re the safest man in a hundred miles.”

“Oh, dear, don’t you know?” Lady Olenka said. “Lord Julian here is a bard as well, he goes by Jaskier and sings all about witchers.”

“Really?” Sir Boris said, looking at Jaskier. “Blimey, imagine that. Good on you, finding a niche in the market.”

Geralt’s ears were beginning to ache. Friendly though Sir Boris might be, he didn’t seem to have a volume level below ‘deafening’. He was tired and overwrought and he just wanted to cuddle up with Jaskier in a bed. It wasn’t even suppertime, though.

They sat through another hour of hearing about Boris and Olenka’s eighteen grandchildren. 

“And three great-grandchildren,” Boris added proudly.

Geralt was thankful Jaskier could carry the conversation. He longed for a kiss, though. Now that he knew he couldn’t have one, his lips fairly ached for one.

Supper was a large affair, with one of Boris and Olenka’s children’s family over for dinner as well. Geralt was seated across from Jaskier between two small children who, apparently, needed to be separated at dinertimes to prevent bickering. They contented themselves instead by asking Geralt every question they could think of, often making him wrack his brain for child appropriate answers.

It wasn’t just witchering questions, either. He answered such questions as “Why is the sky blue?” (Because it’s Melitele’s favorite color). Immediately before answering “How big are dragon scales?” (The small ones are like pebbles and the big ones are like shields.)

Jaskier smiled at him over his bowl of stew, eyes sparkling. Geralt loved children, and Jaskier loved seeing them adore Geralt.

“So, Lord Julian,” Boris and Olenka’s daughter began. “Your lady love, tell us about her?” She smiled Lady Olenka’s warm smile and Jaskier did a good show of seeming bashful. 

“My love is unlike any other,” he began. “And if you’ll pardon my saying so, I’m a poet, and so must wax poetic.”

“Wouldn’t settle for anything less, lad!” Boris bellowed cheefully.

“My darling has fair hair, like moonlight,” Jaskier said, and the table oohed appreciatively. Geralt felt his ears get hot.

“And eyes like summer,” the bard continued. “I could get lost in them. No eyes could compare.” Geralt kicked him under the table, but Olenka was sighing sympathetically.

“But of course,” Jaskier said slyly, my heart is best held by my love’s lips.”

Boris chuckled knowingly. “I’ll bet it is, my boy,” he said, winking. Olenka slapped his arm, but she was smiling. Geralt felt hot.

“I’m afraid, however that my lover is quite modest, and won’t appreciate me extolling too many virtues,” Jaskier finished. “So I must finish with, I love them very much, and it is for them alone that my heart beats.”

Therewith leaving every person at the table (those above the age of twelve, at least) with misty eyes, Jaskier helped Lady Olenka clean up supper. Geralt helped put the dishes away.

After dinner they were led back to the mayor’s house. “I’m afraid the negotiations don’t seem to be finished,” Lady Olenka said. “I had hoped they would be quick, but it seems not. If the issue wasn’t resolved today, I wouldn’t bet on them being resolved too early tomorrow, either. You two don’t have pressing business elsewhere?”

“No, my lady,” Jaskier said, although if they lingered too long they wouldn’t make it to Lettenhove for the winter, as it was, it would be close.

“I’m sure she’ll be able to see you soon,” the lady said. “Here’s your room, and Master Witcher, your room is just at the far end of the hall.”

She said goodnight and Geralt hoped she couldn’t see the slump of his shoulders.

Separate rooms.

Jaskier smiled ruefully at him and they parted for the night. Geralt’s bed was large and comfortable, with clean linens and feather pillows, but he barely got a wink of sleep.

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

The next morning found Jaskier and Geralt breakfasting in the tavern, owned, apparently, by another of Boris and Olenka’s grown children.

“Did you sleep well?” Jaskier whispered over a plate of sausage and eggs.

“Fine,” Geralt grunted.

“I couldn’t sleep a wink,” Jaskier said. “Want my last piece of bacon? I’m stuffed.”

Geralt took it gratefully, slipping Jaskier his fried slice as a trade. No matter how Jaskier protested that he was stuffed, he always had room for a fried slice.”

“Terrible woman,” said a nasal voice at the next table. “Just impossible to do business with.”

“I agree, overemotional, you know how they get,” agreed another voice. Jaskier made eye contact with Geralt. The accent was Lyrian.

“Not even married,” said the first speaker. “What a disgrace. If my daughter got to her age without children I’d just die of shame.”

Geralt pitied his daughter.

“Oh of course,” said the second man. “Attractive, though, for an old maid.”

The first man snickered cruelly. “Thinking a little wooing might soften her up?”

“It always does, women like that, they’re just angry because they haven’t found a man.”

“Won’t your wife mind?”

“Are you going to tell her?” Both men laughed unpleasantly.

A serving girl, maybe sixteen or seventeen, came around the tables, presumably one of Sir Boris’ many granddaughters. She took their plates onto a tray and smiled when Jaskier slipped a few coins onto the tray as a tip.

At the next table  one of the Lyrian’s snapped their fingers impatiently. The girl rolled her eyes. Geralt was pleased to see that, although she served him professionally, as she walked away she ‘accidentally’ tread on his foot.

“What pathetic pieces of shit, the pair of them,” Jaskier said as they stepped out into the sunlight. 

“Hmmm,” Geralt agreed. Then he looked around quickly and pulled Jaskier into an alleyway, urging the bard deeper into the shadows. 

“What? Geralt di-”

Geralt smushed his lips gracelessly to Jaskier’s, crowding him up against the wall. Jaskier’s hair between his fingers was so familiar and comforting, as was the little sigh Jaskier let out.

They pulled apart and Geralt rested his forehead against Jaskier’s. “That’ll tide me over for a while,” he whispered. Jaskier smiled.

“Are you master Julian?”

The pair sprang apart, looking in alarm at the red headed boy at the far end of the alley. 

“Yes...?” Jaskier said.

“Only, Pa said to come find you, and he said you’d be with a big man dressed all in black.”

“And you found us here?” Jaskier asked.

“Didn’t know you’d be here, did I?” Said the boy, stuffing his hands into his trouser pockets. “It’s the shortcut through to the tavern, but then, I figured he’s the only big man in black around.”

Geralt inclined his head, feeling his ears go hot.

“Lady Iliana has time to see you now,” the boy continued, oblivious to the awkwardness. 

“By all means...lead the way,” said Jaskier.

They were led out of the alley and back to the mayor’s house by the messenger boy.

“Out of curiosity,” Jaskier asked. “Is your grandad Sir Boris?” 

“Yeah, that’s him,” said the lad. “He made me a toy sword for my tenth birthday too.” He pointed proudly to the wooden sword tied at his hip with some string.

“It makes you look a proper hero,” Jaskier said. Then he pulled out his coin purse. “A copper for bringing us the message and...another to not tell anyone what you saw.”

The boy looked between the two of them shrewdly.

“Not even my best friend? I tell Mikhail everything.”

“Not until Geralt and I have left.”

“Three coppers total,” the boy said promptly. Jaskier handed them over good naturedly and the boy flashed a gap toothed grin before taking off.

Geralt and Jaskier shrugged at each other, before finding their way to the main room of the mayor’s house. A broad shouldered woman of about fifty poked her head out of a door.

“Julian?”

Geralt and Jaskier went inside.

“You look well,” Iliana said, sitting behind a large desk and gesturing to a couple chairs. “You havent’ aged a day.”

“And you look as lovely as I remember,” Jaskier said.

“Flirt. Come to ask me for heirs?”

Jaskier shuddered. “No, my lady. I remember your threat well. I think you know why I’m here.”

The two Lyrians barged through the door. 

“Did I ask you to enter?” Iliana said, coldly. Geralt felt an unusual curl of fear set up in his stomach, she was a distinctly fearsome woman.

“Well,” said the first Lyrian.

“You were so beautiful, I couldn’t wait on seeing you again,” said the second, slimily.

“Oh I say!,” Iliana said, standing. She placed her hand over her chest in a delicately offended way, which was ill suited to her. “You sir are too bold, and in front of my betrothed too!”

The Lyrians looked, panicked, at the people sat in the chairs. As Geralt was seated in the chair nearest the door, and therefore nearest them, they came to the wrong conclusion. The blood drained from both their faces.

“What an insult!” Iliana continued. “You should be ashamed! What a lack of diplomacy!” 

Beside Geralt, Jaskier snickered. She was laying it on a little thick. 

“Why,” she continued. “I ought to write to your king! I’ve never been so insulted. And I’m sure my beloved will want to sort out this insult too.” She fluttered her lashes at Geralt. 

Geralt nearly jumped out of his seat, but thankfully his brain caught up. He stood, growling a little theatrically and placed one hand on the hilt of his steel sword.

“Our apologies my lady,” the first man said hurriedly.

“Our mistake, we’ll just--” they dissappeared out the door.

“What a fearsome couple,” Geralt heard whispered as the door swung shut.

Iliana sighed satisfactedly and kicked her feet up on her desk. “It seems I should thank you,” she said. “That is going to make negotiations much easier.”

“I’m sure you always get good deals,” Jaskier said.

“Yes. I get the deals I want.”

“You know why I’m here,” Jaskier said.

“Yes.”

“Do you agree?”

“To disolve the betrothal? Of course. Never found a lover for myself so I never bothered but, well, I just don’t do romance.”

“Some people don’t,” Geralt said, thinking of Eskel.”

“Indeed,” Iliana said, smiling warmly at him. “Not all of us have a soulmate to sing us songs.” She laughed at their surprised faces. 

“Oh you fooled them, and you may have fooled Boris and Olenka, but I’ve heard your songs, Julian. It’s written right into everything you do.”

She began rummaging in one of the drawers in the desk. “I don’t mind, of course. So few people know we’re actually betrothed...there it is.” She pulled out an old piece of paper. “I’ll just rip it up if that’s fine by you. You’ll have to do the same to yours of course.”

“We’re going to Lettenhove this winter,” Jaskier said. “I’ll do it as soon as I find it.”

Iliana smiled again. “Father always did say that your dad had a horrible filing system.”

“He filed all his papers on the floor, yes, although I imagine my sister is neater.”

Iliana tore the paper in half without ceremony and placed the contract in the waste paper bin. “Lettenhove is very far away, Julian, will you get there in time?”

Jaskier glanced at Geralt. 

“I don’t know,” Geralt said.

“No matter,” said Iliana. She began writing something on a new sheet of paper. “Our logging teams float lumber all down the Dyfne and Pontar rivers. Show this to the dockmaster at the tip of the Dyfne and our riverboat captains can get you to Novigrad.” 

She pulled out another sheet of paper. “Once you’re in Novigrad, show this to the harbormaster and he’ll get you to Lettenhove.” She looked at their shocked faces and smiled. “Our lumber is the best, and it’s used in everything, including ships. I’m willing to cash in a favor in order to get rid of a useless betrothal.”

“Thank you, my lady,” Jaskier said bowing deeply. “I’ll have my Aunt Szarlotta send a message once our betrothal is fully extant.”

Iliana stood and shook his hand. “I’d appreciate that.”

“Our fathers were penpals,” Jaskier said. “Perhaps we should keep up the tradition?” 

The mayor inclined her head. “I’d like that. I may be too busy to write often.”

Jaskier waved a hand. “I can only pick up messages when I pass through Oxenfurt, but I like to make friends with powerful people.” 

The two of them shared a smile.

“Not to rush you out my door,” Iliana said. “But I do have a lot to do, winter comes early up here, and I know it does as well in Lettenhove. even with my help, you two should leave soon.”

Geralt and Jaskier left that afternoon, just after a hearty meal at the tavern.

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

Across the continent and some weeks later, Jaskier and Geralt stepped onto the docks in Novigrad.

“I don’t think Roach liked the river boats,” Jaskier said as Geralt led her off. Roach whinnied and shook her mane emphatically.

“Sorry, girl,” Geralt said. “You’ll have another long boat journey, and this time I doubt we’ll stop so you can run about on land.”

“Nah,” Jaskier said, as they walked toward a tavern for supper. “Boats from Novigrad to Lettenhove stop around the coast on the way, she’ll get plenty of exercise. It’s something to do with the currents.”

He petted Roach’s muzzle softly as they stabled her at the inn beside the tavern and Geralt felt his heart go out to his bard. Jaskier cared so much for Roach. Geralt thought again of the gold band in his pack.

“C’mon,” he said. “Let’s eat.”

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

Slightly more than a month later, after a slow, coastal boat journey, and then another between Inis Porhoest and Lettenhove, Geralt, Jaskier, and their faithful horse, stepped off the final boat.

“Welcome home, Master Julian,” said a fisherman on the dock.

“Does everyone here know you?” Geralt asked.

“Pretty much, there’s only about three hundred people here.”

News spread fast among three hundred people and Jaskier and Geralt were greeted enthusiastically at the door to the very small castle. A blonde woman who could only be Ksenia, Jaskier’s sister, flung her arms around him, and withing a moment Geralt was being gathered into the hug by a slightly older looking couple.

“Julek,” said the blonde man, pulling back. “My boy, you’re home, and you brought this stunning man, wow, what a looker.” 

“Papa, don’t be embarrassing,” Jaskier said. Geralt flushed clear to the roots of his hair. Apparently when Jaskier said he had his father’s personality he meant all of his father’s personality.

They had dinner as a family, including Jaskier’s niece and nephew, Cecylia and Prot. They had questions for Geralt, and he was grateful for the practice he’d had in Gwendeith. It was an enjoyable meal over all, and afterward Jaskier was distracted by his Aunt Szarlotta while Geralt slipped away to ask Mr. Pankratz a very important question.

The two of them returned to the main hall to see Jaskier pretending to be a dragon, while Cecylia and Prot bravely fought him with butterknives, but he straightened up when he saw the look on Geralt’s face.

Geralt took his hand and Jaskier squeezed it three times, it was their code, asking if Geralt needed to go somewhere that wasn’t so hard on his senses. Geralt smiled and shook his head, swallowing nervously around the lump in his throat.

He got down on one knee and pulled out the gold band. “I’m...I’m not good with words.” Geralt swallowed again, wishing he could borrow Jaskier’s eloquence for five minutes or so. “Marry me?”

The words were barely out from his mouth before Jaskier was tackling him to the ground, pressing kisses all over his face.

“Oh Geralt!” he said. “Wait--”

Jaskier looked up at his mother, who smiled and was handed a paper by his Aunt Szarlotta. Mrs. Pankratz ripped the betrothal contract in half.

“Yes,” Jaskier said, laughing. “I will marry you!”

Then they kissed on the chilly stone floor.

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

Dear Lady Iliana, Mayor of Gwendeith

The former contract has been voided. 

Szarlotta of Lettenhove

P.S. Geralt and Jaskier are engaged and send their love.

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

Holy Cow. 5603 words. I...I don’t even know what to say. I hope you like it.

#the witcher #geraskier #reverse fake dating #fluff #geralt #jaskier #ask box answers

[contemplativepancakes]

what I'm afraid to say

another train fic! (warning for canon typical violence)

five times geralt tries to tell jaskier he loves him, + one time he does

part one | next

Geralt drums his fingers on the inn table, thinking about the contract he pulled from the notice board earlier. He looks over the brim of his mug of ale at Jaskier crooning in the middle of the room, and he tries to ignore the funny things it's doing to his heart.

He wonders if he should get that looked at.

Geralt sighs as he drops his mental facade; at the very least, he always tries to be honest with himself. He thinks... he thinks he might love Jaskier, despite everything, or maybe because of it. So many people in his life are connected to him by fate, by something that's too big for Geralt to fathom and impossible to ignore, but Jaskier—isn't.

He's stuck around because he wanted to, for whatever godsforsaken reason, even when there's times Geralt wonders why he puts up with it.

Geralt thinks maybe....he ought to finally say something to Jaskier. Geralt's not sure what exactly Jaskier gets out of trailing after him, so maybe it's possible Jaskier feels the same way?

Geralt shakes his head. He's a mutant; no human is ever going to be deluded enough to love him.

Geralt downs the rest of his ale in a single gulp.

-

The next day, Geralt walks all over town, trying to flesh out whatever monster he's dealing with. Eventually, he decides it must be a cockatrice, and he heads back to the inn to tell Jaskier.

“Of course,” Jaskier sighs, tapping his fingernails on the table. “Leave me here while you deal with all the excitement.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt growls in warning. “I'm sure you can find someone else to pester for the evening.”

“A pest? Me?” Jaskier asks indignantly.

“Yes, you. I'll see you later, okay?”

Jaskier huffs before giving Geralt his most winning smile. “What if I go with you?”

“I mean it. Stay here,” Geralt says, trying not to think about the ways Jaskier might try to occupy himself without Geralt there.

“Come on, Geralt, who's going to protect me from the cuckolded husbands?”

Geralt sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. Jaskier is bound to get in trouble if Geralt leaves him alone. “Fine. But you're staying with Roach.”

Jaskier hops up with a grin, clapping his hands together.

Geralt checks his potion inventory one last time before hefting his bag onto his shoulder. He makes his way out to Roach and pats a hand down her snout, letting his fingers linger over the velvety fur of her nose. She snuffs at him, searching for a treat, and Geralt quirks a grin before he opens up his saddle bags to retrieve a sugar cube.

Jaskier moves up from behind him to give Roach a pat down her flank. She tolerates the touch instead of nipping at him, so Geralt will take that as a good omen.

Geralt helps Jaskier into the saddle before swinging up behind him, trying not to think about the warmth of Jaskier's back pressed to his chest too hard. Geralt digs his heels into Roach's side, and she starts off at a steady trot. The motion makes Jaskier bump into him maddeningly often, and Geralt clenches his jaw in his attempt to not react.

Not soon enough, they arrive at what appears to be the cockatrice's territory, if the gouges in the tree bark is any indication.

Geralt scrambles down from Roach and gathers his supplies from her saddlebag, downing some Cat so he can see more easily in the rapidly fading light.

“Be safe,” Jaskier says, an odd expression on his face.

Geralt looks down at the back of his hand, and he sees the tinge of his veins already turning a little black, and he flushes with shame at what Jaskier must think of him.

“You be good,” Geralt counters gruffly, turning away before Jaskier's opinion of him sinks any lower.

He pulls his silver sword out of its sheath and follows the trail until he reaches a cave that looks like some place a cockatrice would settle. He looks up and sees a rocky outcrop on top of the hill the cave is nestled into.

He climbs up and hauls himself over the ledge and immediately sees a large nest. Fuck. A protective monster mother is never something he likes to deal with.

He looks around, but he doesn't see any signs of the cockatrice. He casts a quick look at Jaskier, tucked away into the treeline and leaning against Roach.

There's two tiny cockatrices in the nest and two more eggs. Geralt brings his sword back, but he hesitates. Even if they're monsters, they're too small to be the culprits of the farmer's woe who had hired him.

Geralt whirls around as he hears Jaskier cry out for him. He looks up and curses as he sees the mother speeding back to the nest. Sure enough, there's a cow clutched in her claws.

Geralt raises his sword, but the monster changes its path from Geralt to Jaskier, and Geralt's brain quits working for a second. Geralt shouts, trying to attract her attention back to him, but it doesn't work; the cockatrice drops the cow and flies towards Jaskier. Jaskier tries to run, but she scoops him up instead, digging her claws into his soft flesh. Geralt can see blood blooming on Jaskier’s white shirt, and he clenches his jaw helplessly. Jaskier stabs the cockatrice’s foot, making her screech and drop him to the ground. Jaskier moans faintly, crumpled in a heap as he brings his hands to press against his torso.

“Jaskier!” Geralt shouts, voice hoarse as he tries to be heard over the din of the cockatrice's wings beating.

Jaskier should have been nowhere near here; this was a terrible idea and all Geralt's fault. He never should have let Jaskier come, and at the very least he should have insisted he wait at least a mile away, but he didn't, and now—

Everything in him calls for him to go to Jaskier and make sure he's okay, but neither of them is going to make it out of here if he doesn't deal with the cockatrice first. She's rushing back at Geralt now that Jaskier is on the ground, and Geralt shifts his grip on the hilt of his sword.

A male appears over the tree line, and any remaining sympathy Geralt had for the little ones flees as cold dread takes its place.

He spares one last look at Jaskier and hefts his sword, charging at the female and rolling out of the way as she spits poison at him. He comes out of his dodge in a crouch, and he leaps out of the way as the cockatrice's pointed tail swings around at him. He dances around it, all too aware that each second he spends doing this is one more second that Jaskier could be bleeding out, could be dying for all he knows, until, finally, he manages to get behind the beast and skewer his sword through her spinal column. He pulls his blade out quickly, hardly registering the viscera splattering on him.

Geralt wants to take a moment to breathe, but the male is rapidly advancing on him. Geralt glances over at Jaskier, taking heart in the fact that he at least has had the presence of mind to put a hand over his side to try and quell the bleeding, but a pool of blood is growing much too quickly for Geralt's peace of mind.

In the moment he's distracted, the cockatrice lunges forward at him and scrapes a claw down his chest, slicing through the armor and grazing his skin. The wounds are shallow and knit themselves back together quickly, but Geralt feels the poison seeping into his system and slowing him down. He needs to end this sooner rather than later.

Geralt squeezes his eyes shut for a second before feinting to the left and then lunging to the right. The cockatrice takes the bait and leaves his right side unguarded, leaving an opening for Geralt to plunge his sword just under the monster's rib cage and angle it up to the heart.

The cockatrice lets out a terrible screech that makes Geralt want to clap his hands over his ears, and the monsters still in the nest start screeching back. The high pitched noise grating on his nerves, exacerbated by his potions increasing his sensitivity.

The cockatrice shudders again, and Geralt rips his sword out, hot blood gushing out after it. In the thrashing, the coackatrice's tail comes from behind Geralt and sweeps him off his feet, knocking him onto his ass with a huff of breath.

The cockatrice stills, and Geralt scrambles back to his feet. He directs a blast of igni at the nest, taking a moment to feel sorry as the babies scream and the smell of burning flesh fills his nostrils. It's enough to make him nauseous, to feel just as monstrous as what he just killed, but he has Jaskier to worry about; he has to go.

He scrambles down from the hill and sprints back to Jaskier, dropping to his knees by Jaskier's side as he tries to catch his breath. He pushes Jaskier's hands out of the way, assessing the damage and letting out a sigh of relief when it doesn't look like it's too deep.

Oxidized blood covers Jaskier's hands, and Geralt tries to calm his already churning stomach. “You're going to be fine,” he murmurs, cursing himself for not having any bandages.

He tears off Jaskier's damaged doublet and rips it in half, wishing Jaskier wasn't so out of it that he doesn't even chastise Geralt for ruining it. He wraps it tightly around Jaskier's side.

When he's finished, he looks down at the blood covering his hands, at what's wormed its way under his nails that he's going to have to scrub to clean.

Jaskier stirs then, stretching and looking up at Geralt.

Geralt thinks back to his thoughts from the day before, the way he had wanted to finally tell Jaskier he loved him. He looks back at Jaskier and the question on his face, but he can't help but notice how pale his skin is and the shaky breaths. This is what happens when Geralt gets close to someone.

He bites his tongue.

-

next part will be up tomorrow and linked here!

#the witcher #geralt of rivia #jaskier #geraskier #5+1 fic #hurt/comfort #contemplative writing

[hirikka]

space that’s in between every page

Geralt has learned many things about Jaskier over the years: He is loud and annoying, loyal and stubborn; he has a knack for getting into trouble and for talking his way out of it; he has never been afraid of Geralt (even when he probably should have been), and he is married to a viscount. That last piece of information ends up being the most troublesome.

Or, five times that Geralt thought that Jaskier was married to Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove, and the time he (finally) realized they were the same person.

(read on AO3)

i

Geralt is not sure when he first heard the name Julian Alfred Pankratz. Jaskier talks about so many people that it is difficult to keep track. And that is putting aside the fact that for the first few months (or perhaps years) of knowing the bard, he tuned out most of what the man said. It hardly seemed important at the time, when he was sure that Jaskier would lose interest and flit away at any moment.

By the time he realizes that Jaskier is not planning to leave any time soon, he’s also missed any window where it is reasonable to ask who the people he mentions are. Most of them are fairly easy to figure out, once Geralt is paying attention. Classmates from Oxenfurt are frequently mentioned, and he almost never talks about any family members.

It’s Julian, though, who comes up the most. Not that often really, in the grand scheme of things, but he’s usually mentioned at least once a season. His relationship to Jaskier is the least obvious; at first, Geralt assumes that he is some sort of patron for Jaskier’s music, but that doesn’t quite seem right. It takes almost two years for him to figure it out; after all, Jaskier doesn’t act like a married man. But Geralt is sure that is what is happening, the only explanation that makes sense: Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove, is Jaskier’s husband.

 ii

“No taste for the arts,” Jaskier grumbles under his breath. “Completely absurd.”

“We can leave,” Geralt murmurs. He can get the information later, stop by to speak to the lord at some point when there isn’t a party happening. He would prefer that, to be honest, even if it would slow them down. He hates fancy parties like this, and Jaskier’s tendency to sulk for several hours when nobles don’t appreciate his music is a good excuse to leave and come back later.

Jaskier looks at Geralt and huffs. “No, you need the information. I can put my ego aside.”

“Hm.” Geralt isn’t sure where that leaves them.

The guard shifts, placing a hand on his sword as a reminder that Jaskier is not invited.

“Look for Julian Alfred Pankratz—” Jaskier says, turning his attention back to the guard “—Viscount de Lettenhove.”

The guard looks dubious for a moment, but he does check the list of invited guests, and after a moment, he gives a nod and steps out of their way.

Geralt follows Jaskier, trying to focus on the information he needs to get and not the unpleasant emotions that tend to well up every time Julian is mentioned.

 iii

Geralt plants his feet, stalling the guards who are trying to move him away from the gathered crowd, and turns his attention to the man who had hired him—he had seemed at least somewhat sympathetic. “Please, get word to Jaskier. The bard. Let him know that—”

One of the guards shoves him forward, and he stumbles against the ropes tying him again.

“Wait.” The command is clear in the man's tone. The guards come to a stop as a tall man with dark hair steps through the crowd.

“Sir?” One of the guards holding Geralt asks.

“What’s going on here?” the man asks. He looks like a noble, wearing fine clothes and with the air of someone used to getting their way.

“The witcher was found sneaking into the city. Armed.”

“I was hired for a job,” Geralt growls. “How am I supposed to hunt without swords?”

The man looks at Geralt now. “Are you Geralt of Rivia?”

Geralt nods.

“Let him go,” the man instructs. The guards hesitate for a moment, but at a glare, they hastily release Geralt and reluctantly leave, fading into the crowd.

“Thank you,” Geralt says, rubbing at his wrists.

“Not to worry. I heard you mention Jaskier, and I knew I had to step in.”

“You know Jaskier?”

“I’m Ferrant de Lettenhove. Julian’s my cousin,” Ferrant says.

Geralt manages to keep his face impassive. He sincerely hopes that word of this doesn’t make it back to Julian—he can’t imagine the man being happy to have his spouse traveling with a witcher; no need for it to become worse by mentioning that he was almost arrested.

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” Ferrant asks. “So that you can conclude your job in the city?”

“It’s alright,” Geralt grunts. “Don’t want to cause you any trouble.”

“Not to worry.” Ferrant offers a small smile. “I’m the royal instigator; there are very few people with the authority to cause me trouble.”

Geralt hates the idea of being indebted to Julian, but he does need to finish this job, and he’s not particularly interested in getting into more legal trouble for being armed in the city.

 iv

Geralt is used to Jaskier wearing jewelry; the bard is like a magpie, constantly picking up new shiny trinkets to wear. This ring seems different, though. It is larger and more ornate, and a symbol on it indicates that it is a sigil ring. He’s fairly certain that Jaskier didn’t have it the year before, and now he seems to wear it every day.

“Where’d you get that ring?” Geralt asks.

“Hm?” Jaskier looks up from his lute, meeting Geralt’s gaze.

“The ring.” Geralt waves his hand towards the ring glittering in the firelight.

“It’s a Lettenhove family heirloom,” Jaskier says.

“Oh.” Geralt feels his heart sink. He’s never known Jaskier to wear a wedding band or anything else connecting him to his husband. He wonders what this means, if it suggests that they have gotten closer over the previous winter. “That’s nice.”

“Why the sudden interest?” Jaskier asks.

Geralt shrugs, making a noncommittal noise. Jaskier, used to him, just smiles and returns to practicing his lute.

**

Whatever the ring suggests, it isn’t that Jaskier is going to be more committed. More loyal to his husband. He still flirts just as much, still beds whatever pretty stranger catches his fancy.

Geralt cannot stop thinking about it and finds his gaze drawn to the ring at inopportune moments. This obvious reminder that Jaskier is bound to another, that no matter how far he might be willing to wander with Geralt, he is always going to return to someone else.

**

Geralt feels pleasantly light from the wine he’s drunk; it had been flowing freely at the festival they are attending, and the townsfolk were in a good enough mood between the holiday and Geralt’s successful hunt that they had been welcoming to Geralt. He’s found a spot on the outskirts of the town square and is leaning against a wall, watching Jaskier dance through the crowd of locals. He is bright and joyful, and Geralt feels warm and pleased.

“Geralt,” Jaskier says. He’s standing in front of Geralt now, still catching his breath and smiling so very wide. “Come and dance with him.”

“I don’t dance,” Geralt says without any of his usual heat.

“I’ll lead,” Jaskier says, taking his hand, and Geralt allows it, letting Jaskier pull him close and start leading him through the steps of the dance. Geralt thinks that he would allow Jaskier anything, and the thought does not scare him the way it once did.

“See? It’s not that hard,” Jaskier murmurs.

He is so very close, one hand clasping Geralt’s and the other resting on his shoulder. Geralt can feel the steady beat of Jaskier’s heart from where they are pressed together, and his senses are overwhelmed by Jaskier’s lavender and mint scent.

Jaskier sways in, somehow impossibly moving closer, and his eyes dart down to Geralt’s lips before returning to meet the witcher’s gaze. For a moment, Geralt thinks that he ought to finally give in, to let himself want and have. Then, Jaskier’s hand in his shifts and Geralt feels the touch of metal, and all at once, he remembers why he has never allowed himself to respond to Jaskier’s flirting. He steps back hastily, wrenching his hand away.

“Geralt?” Jaskier’s face is clouded in confusion, but Geralt’s eyes are drawn down to the signet ring on Jaskier’s hand. He turns and flees back to the inn, ignoring Jaskier’s confused call behind him.

He cannot acknowledge this want, no matter how much his heart aches. Jaskier would only ever be able to see Geralt as a dalliance, a flight of fancy; he cannot truly be Geralt’s, not in the way Geralt wishes him to be. Not when he is married. And Geralt knows himself, knows he is not strong enough to take that step, knowing that it would not mean the same thing to Jaskier that it would to him. It is better to keep Jaskier’s friendship and companionship. It has to be.

  v

Geralt turns to Jaskier. It’s not the time for jokes, not when he feels like he’s been stabbed, but he understands what Jaskier is trying to do. He turns, intending to tell Jaskier to let him be, but then the light catches on Jaskier’s ring. On the ring that Julian gave to him, and suddenly Geralt’s own hurt is boiling over.

Julian knows that Jaskier will return to him, that no matter how far the bard wanders, he will come home, and Geralt is hit with a wave of jealousy. He craves that assurance—the certainty that someone will always come back. He thought he had that with Yennefer, but he lost her through his own actions. He doesn’t know why he thought it would end any differently; witchers are not made to have connections. Yennefer wants nothing to do with him, and Jaskier has a husband to return to, and Geralt has nothing but his swords and his horse and his anger.

He has spent so long suppressing his emotions, pretending they didn’t exist. Now, he is overwhelmed with sorrow and longing that feels impossible to push aside or ignore. So he lets it out in the only way he knows how: as rage. He turns on Jaskier and unleashes his fury, takes out his hurt on the only person who has chosen to remain with him. [He spits] cruel cutting remarks designed to cause the most damage possible.

Geralt stares out over the mountains and tries to force himself not to regret what he has just done. Tries to convince himself that it is better this way—if Jaskier isn’t loyal to the man he married, then it is only a matter of time before he leaves Geralt as well; better to have it over and done with.

He fails.

**

Yen smirks at him over the top of her wine glass, and Geralt feels his heart sink—this conversation had been going surprisingly well. Yen had forgiven him for the djinn bond, and, although she was no longer interested in a relationship with him, she does seem excited to help with Ciri; he thinks they can become friends. He’s content with that—he can see now that their relationship did neither of them any good. This smirk, though, means trouble, and he’s not sure he’s prepared for that.

“I saw Julian the other day,” Yen says.

Geralt glares at her.

“He’s in good health, seems to be doing well.”

“Hm.”

“Would you like to know where he is?” Yen prompts.

“Why would I want to know that?” Geralt growls.

For a moment Yennefer’s smug mask of indifference falls away, but she recovers quickly. “Just thought I’d make the offer.” She drains the wine glass and stands. “See you around, Geralt.” For a moment, she almost looks concerned about something, but then she has swept out of the room.

The scent of lilac and gooseberry lingers in the air as Geralt looks down at the table and wonders why Yen would have mentioned seeing Julian but not Jaskier. Had the bard mentioned their fight to her? Had he asked Yen not to tell Geralt where he was? Or, worse, had Jaskier not been at home with his husband? Geralt had managed to ease his worry for the bard by convincing himself that Jaskier was safe at his home, not wandering the countryside getting into trouble, but perhaps he was wrong to think that. Geralt grits his teeth and pushes the thoughts aside. He can’t let himself give in to panic now—not when he has Ciri to care for.

 +1

“You saved my life!” the knight gasps up at him. Geralt has a sinking feeling.

“Hm.”

“I—” the knight starts.

“It’s fine,” Geralt cuts him off. He’s not interested in claiming any kind of reward—he has enough trouble with one child surprise.

The knight blinks at him for a moment, assessing. “I understand. There’s a contract out for this monster; let me at least show you back to the estate so that you can collect the reward.”

“Hm.” Geralt is still worried that the man might press, insist on offering something in exchange for a perceived debt, but he and Ciri do need the coin; he hasn’t wanted to take jobs when it means leaving her alone. It had only been chance that had brought him to this man and the kikimora attacking him. “Fine.”

“Good.” The man smiles at Geralt without a hint of fear, and Geralt feels off-kilter for a moment. “Will you also accept my hospitality and stay for the night? I can give you food and a bed.”

Geralt hesitates. “I’m not… traveling alone.”

“Oh? Well your companion is welcome as well,” the man says. “My name is Kaz.”

He takes the extended hand. “Geralt.”

He catches the smallest hint of shock in the Kaz’ scent, but the man doesn’t say anything, so Geralt doesn’t worry about it. He leads the way back to the road where Ciri is waiting with Roach.

The man rubs his hand across the back of his head. “My horse spooked; she’s probably smart enough to make it home on her own, but we’ll have to walk.”

Geralt nods but doesn’t say anything until they reach the road. “Fiona, this is Kaz. We’re going to stay with him for the night.”

Ciri brightens considerably at the prospect of a warm bed.

“We’re close to the Lettenhove estate,” Kaz says. “We should be there in time for dinner.”

Geralt freezes, considers throwing himself onto Roach and riding as far away as he can before they lose the light. The last thing he wants is to finally be confronted with Julian. The possibility of seeing Jaskier again is something he has longed for and dreaded, but seeing him with his husband is unthinkable.

He has Ciri to think of, though, so he doesn’t give in to his own fear. He just follows Kaz and feels his stomach sink with every step.

**

Kaz is greeted warmly as they approach the estate, and Geralt revises his assessment; this man clearly holds a higher rank than his clothing suggests. Geralt and Ciri keep their hoods up as they move towards the castle, but he still sees curious gazes following them.

Once they are inside, Kaz summons a servant. “We’ll set you up in a guest room. Dinner is in half an hour, so you should have time for a bath before that, if you wish to warm up.” Kaz looks down at his own muddy clothes. “I know I do. Someone will be sent to get you for dinner.”

Geralt nods and lets the servant lead him and Ciri down a different hall, presumably to the guest wing. Part of him still wants to protest, but it is overpowered by how badly he wants to see Jaskier again. He knows it will likely hurt, but it is better to know that he is safe.

**

The dining hall that Geralt and Ciri are led to is small and intimate, although it is still richly decorated. Kaz is already at the table, along with a woman who bears a striking resemblance to Jaskier.

“Good sir witcher!” Kaz smiles as he stands. “And Fiona. This is my wife Estera.”

“Thank you for saving my idiot husband,” Estera says.

Geralt shifts, uncomfortable with the warm reception; it’s so different from what he is used to. He wonders what Jaskier could have possibly told these people to make them so open towards him.

A servant opens the door, and Geralt is briefly grateful for the distraction before the man announces: “The Viscount de Lettenhove.” Then his heart sinks, and he tries to brace himself to see the man Jaskier married.

The servant steps aside, and Jaskier steps into the room. His clothes are suited for the cold, but still show his flair for color—bright and vibrant against the more muted colors most people wear in winter. He is alone, and the door closes behind him. So where is the viscount? Although, Geralt supposes that Jaskier would technically share the title with his husband, so perhaps Julian won’t be joining them. He isn’t sure if he should be relieved or even more concerned.

“Geralt?” Jaskier’s voice is strangled, shocked. His scent tinges with something bitter.

Kaz glances between them, looking pleased. “I thought this was your witcher, Julek.”

“Kaz. What did you do?” Jaskier’s voice is cold, and he isn’t looking at Geralt any longer.

“He saved me from an arachas. I insisted he come collect the reward and stay for dinner. It’s nothing nefarious.”

Jaskier sighs. “I'll take my meal in my room.”

He turns and leaves. Geralt isn’t sure what is happening.

“Why is he leaving?” Kaz asks.

“You are a fool,” Estera says although she sounds fond. She leans past Kaz to look at Geralt. “You can still fix this.”

“Fix what?”

Estera snorts. “Honestly. Men. The fact that you broke his heart, witcher.”

“What?”

“If you don’t care for him, you can stay for the night and leave tomorrow and never see him again—“ she catches Geralt’s wince “—but since that isn’t what you want, you should probably go after him”

Geralt stands. “I'll be back,” he says to Ciri. He doesn’t ask about Julian, doesn’t ask about the comment about Jaskier’s broken heart. It feels vital to speak to Jaskier now, before any more time has passed.

He leaves the hall and follows Jaskier’s scent, trying not to think about why it seems to have soured or about the fact that, if Jaskier has gone to his rooms, there’s every chance that Geralt will be arriving to find Julian.

The room is easy enough to find, although it is not in the kind of grand hallway that Geralt would have expected for the viscount. He can hear Jaskier plucking at his lute—not in any tune, and Geralt is familiar enough with his habits to know he’s anxious. The room doesn't smell like anyone but Jaskier, so perhaps he and Julian don’t share chambers. At least that means he might be able to talk to Jaskier alone.

He hesitates a moment longer before he knocks on the door. He hears Jaskier sigh and the movement of fabric.

“Come in, Geralt.”

Geralt pushes the door open and steps into the room, suddenly feeling unsure of what he should do.

“I’m sorry that Kaz made you go to the formal dinner,” Jaskier says when it becomes clear that Geralt isn’t going to say anything. “If I had known, I would have stayed away.”

“Why?” Geralt asks. He doesn’t understand why Jaskier is hiding in his own home.

“Because you don’t want to see me?” Jaskier says slowly. “Your life’s one blessing and all that?”

Geralt grits his teeth. “I didn’t mean that.”

“No?” Jaskier’s voice is cold. “Then why say it?”

“Because of Julian!” Geralt snaps. It’s not the whole truth, but it is as much as he can admit to.

“What?” Jaskier asks. “I’m afraid you’ve lost me.”

Geralt forces himself to take a deep breath, trying to figure out a way to explain without revealing his own feelings for Jaskier in the process. “After Yennefer, it made me think of the way Julian might feel about—”

“Geralt,” Jaskier interrupts, “who do you think Julian is?”

Geralt frowns at him. “Your husband.”

Jaskier is completely frozen for a moment, and then he flops back into the bed and starts giggling. “How—” he tries to get himself under control “—how long have we known each other?”

“Hm.” Geralt knows that he’s missing something, but he doesn’t know what.

Jaskier sits up after a minute, managing to get his laughter under control. “Oh my dear witcher.” Jaskier sighs, but his scent has lost the sour notes. “I suppose I never formally introduced myself, did I?”

“Hm.”

“Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove—” he sweeps into a formal bow “—at your service.”

“I… hm.” Geralt’s mind is racing, reassessing everything with this new piece of information.

Jaskier giggles again. “I can’t believe you thought I was married.”

Geralt frowns at him. It is possibly an expression that Jaskier would describe as pouting.

“I’m still not happy about what you said on the mountain,” Jaskier says, growing more serious.

“I am sorry,” Geralt says. “I shouldn’t have said it. No matter what I thought. It, hm. It wasn’t fair to you.”

Jaskier beams. “Apology accepted.” He pats Geralt on the shoulder. “See, that wasn’t so hard.” He moves to open the door.

“What are you doing?” Geralt asks.

“You look like you could use food, and I would like to meet your child surprise properly.”

Geralt steps closer before he can think better of it and catches Jaskier’s arm, pulling him away from the door.

“Geralt?” Jaskier asks.

Geralt pulls Jaskier closer and leans down to kiss him. Jaskier makes a pleased noise, wrapping his arms around Geralt’s waist and deepening the kiss—it feels like coming home.

After a moment, Jaskier pulls back slightly and narrows his eyes. “Did you ignore my flirting for twenty years because you thought I was married?”

“Hm,” Geralt says, meaning yes.

“Gods, you are such an idiot,” Jaskier says fondly.

#geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #witcher fic #witcher #idiots to lovers #misunderstandings #fics #my writing #my fics

[vagrantblvrd]

The AU where Jaskier is a ~spy and whilst on an actual mission accidentally uncovers dealings/conspiracy that could topple kingdoms if word gets out?

While he’s considering his options - loyalty to king and country warring with the Right Thing he realizes he wasn’t as careful as he thought he was and has to flee assassins?

Thinks oh, this is all for another Situation because accents or whatnot not lining up with his current batch of trouble and he figures he should go to his handler. Trusts them to know what to do and the whatnot, and ignores the niggling sense of unease about the whole thing. (What if whatever clues he picked up from the assassins was all part of a ploy and whatnot.)

When he gets to his handler all seems fine, normal, but then said handler leaves the room for a moment and Jaskier’s sitting there. On high alert and paranoid as hell because close calls all the way there. (Perhaps a hollywood-esque injury from a scuffle in a back alley before he reached the city his handler’s in and whatnot but surely he’s safe now, right? Right)

But then betrayal!

In which there are more close calls and desperate looks and all that before he hops out a window and flees across the roofs and such before losing his pursuers and holing up in some hideyhole no one but him (and maybe some trustworthy street urchins he’s befriended/folded into his little spy network and such).

He figures since it’s obvious his handler and other assorted higher ups - all the way to the king - would rather what secrets he’s uncovered die with him, so now it’s a matter of going into hiding and looking over his shoulder for the rest of his sure to be very short life, or.

Do the Right Thing and whatnot.

But that’s a laughable thought because how would he even go about it?

So, you know, the going into hiding thing and all that.

But then he runs into this grumpy witcher, and honestly, any other time he would be delighted to pry stories out of the man but he’s got assassins on his tail and living on borrowed time and oh, hell, why not travel with him to the next town at least?

Geralt is like ??? and also >:((((((((((( because what, and why, and how the hell??? regarding this troublesome bard and anyway.

Due to Reasons they end up traveling together through that first town, and then a few more after that and Geralt’s ??? intensifies because really, what the hell???

It seems wherever they go they have to beat a swift retreat or Geralt has to save Jaskier from an angry husband - or on occasion and angry wife - and Jaskier’s ahahaha seems a little strained when he explains about how could he ever refuse a lonely woman some company on a cold night or whatever bullshit he comes up with as he jumps out windows and whatnot and catches up to Geralt who is annyed every damn time but also clearly not about to leave the idiot bard to fend for himself.

(And then there’s the bit where Geralt ~tenderly patches up whatever injuries Jaskier picks up while fleeing from angry husbands/wives/whoever, growling and insulting Jaskier but so, so gentle and just. Yes.)

Jaskier swears he’ll leave, set off on his own and leave Geralt out of his troubles because the sweet bastard doesn’t deserve to get caught up in it on top of his usual struggles with dumb humans regarding the thing where he’s a witcher and whatnot? But he’s weak and selfish and just.

The next town, right, he’ll leave then.

Really.

Eventually though, it becomes clear to Geralt that (not all) of the Situations Jaskier runs into are due to him sleeping with the wrong people, but some other reason and Jaskier hasn’t been telling him the truth. (Half-truths and the whatnot, lies of omission such as the thing about being a spy with a price on his head and anyway, anyway.)

Arguments and so on and Jaskier leaving because Geralt’s right about him being a liar and all that, but then!

He gets captured by interested parties - a political enemy of the king - a fellow countryman or even someone from Nilfgaard or whereever and they really, really want the secrets tucked away in Jaskier’s head and he’s like, ah, so this is how it ends.

Jaskier was expecting a knife in the dark kind of deal one of the assassins after him finally catching up and being good enough he couldn’t slip away, which. Not great, but presumably better than being tortured to death and so on, and anyhow.

He’s in their ~clutches for a few days and is all, well this is terrible because of all the torture and also having time in between the torture to linger on regrets and not surprisingly Geralt features in so many of them, and it’s just.

Delicious Angst.

And then!

Rescue in the form of a very Not Happy witcher, who happens to have other witcher friends and also this utterly terrifying sorceress and a slightly less terrifying other sorceress and assorted other murder friends.

They mayor may not accidentally topple a kingdom in the process, and go to Kaer Morhen to figure shit out right?

Well, Geralt and Jaskier and most of the witchers head there along with the slightly less terrifying sorceress because Jaskier being in need of healing and so on.

Emotional Talking, which really is more Jaskier talking and Geralt going “Hm” using various tones/inflection when Jaskier says something Geralt doesn’t have the words for at the moment? (Other than sheer !!! at his “Oh, I expected to die there, not that I’m not grateful you and your friends rescued me, but you know, life of a spy and all,” and so on.)

But of course Geralt does some Emotional Talking of his own because he’s not a complete bastard and just when they reach the “Wait, he likes me likes me?” portion of things Yennefer shows up at Kaer Morhen cackling because word’s gotten out about this White Wolf unleashing his wrath on whatever kingdom he accidentally toppled and anyway, what does his majesty want to do with his new kingdom?

“What.”

Yennerfer cackling some more as, idk, Triss pops up and confirms what she said and also everyone thinks he’s a warlord now?

“This is your fault,” Geralt says to Jaskier, because it totally is?

But also some of Jaskier’s spy buddies or someone in his personal spy network slipping him information about dire happenings in another kingdom and he’s like “Oh, that’s vile.”

Geralt is just. “NO.”

But Jaskier and everyone else are like “Oh really?” and so off they go to do the Right Thing and maybe they run into other witchers along the way and anyway, anyway, a few monts, a year, two, and Geralt has to pick a consort and is like.

SIGH.

Everyone he knows is a meddler because the thing where he and Jaskier have been dancing around one another for ages even with the he really does like me like me revelation, and is like.

“Fine, I choose him,” pointing as Jaskier who chokes on the grape he just popped in his mouth because the bastard did that on purpose, he knows he did, and anyway.

Yes.

Geralt just wanted to live a normal life for a witcher and...witcher, but then Jaskier happened to him and he ended up topping several kingdoms and amassing a loyal following of witchers from all the schools, non-humans, and humans along the way.

Also he gained a daughter in Ciri due to shenanigans that Jaskier, once again, was to blame for.

The least Jaskier could do for being reason any of that happened is agree to be his consort, you know?

“Well when you put it like that, however could I refuse such a proposition?”

Everyone who isn’t Geralt or Jaskier set up another betting pool on how long it’ll take the two idiots to stop pining and actually do something about all that UST they’ve had to live with for years. YEARS.

Geralt and Jaskier don’t know what they mean by any of that, but a few months after Jaskier is named Geralt’s consort they actually smooch for the first time and are like oh, okay, everything makes sense now, not that either of them will ever admit it, but yes.

(Kind of. There was that thing with the attempted assassination a year back in which the only cure was True Love’s Kiss and while Jaskier felt he wasn’t the right person for the job nothing/no one else had managed to wake him up and the deadline before Geralt died was right there and he was desperate, and anyway, yes)

#witcher nonsense #geraskeir #geralt x jaskier #geralt/jaskier #technically not a fic #vagrant fic #¯\_(ツ)_/¯ #i'm just #really love the warlord aus #they're all so good #long post

[ianwritesfics]

Holding Out For a Hero

Early Fall 2018

Geralt doesn’t know what to expect from the video Yennefer sends him at ten in the evening. It’s not as if there’s precedent for this. He holds the phone away from him, finger over the speaker to muffle any unexpected loud noises while he presses play.

Yennefer swims into view, a bright watery grin on her face like she gets when she’s drunk a little more than she usually does. A man is singing something from the eighties somewhere off screen. He sounds about as drunk as Yennefer looks, which makes sense given the song.

“Y’know, sometimes you have impeccable taste, Geralt. I mean, obviously there’s me… but this guy has a flair for dramatic that I just can’t help but admire.”

The camera flipped to show the stage of what must have been some karaoke bar - where in the city did they even have one of those? - upon which Jaskier was doing his best to deliver a performance to rival any the song had ever received before.

“Out where the lightning splits the sea, I could swear there is someone, somewhere watching me!”

Triss’ laugh filtered in from off screen. “That would be ninety-five percent of this bar.”

“Through the wind and the chill and the rain,”

“And his future husband, don’t forget!”

“And the storm and the flood,”

“Of course not! Geralt, if you don’t make an honest man out of him soon I may have to ban you from my store!”

“I can feel his approach like a fire in my blood!”

Yennefer grins at the phone ringing on the table in front of Jaskier. Everything is going perfectly.

“I must visit the little DM’s room - Jaskier, darling, I’m entrusting you with my personal cell. Please entertain anyone who calls me until I return.”

“She was probably joking, right?”

Triss shook her head very seriously and pushed the phone closer to Jaskier. “She said entertain them, bard!”

Jaskier figured whatever happened next could be directly attributed to Yennefer and Triss so he might as well have some fun.

“You’ve reached Yennefer’s phone - she’s currently busy with much more important things but has entrusted me with the very important job of entertainment until she returns. Sweat baby, sweat baby, sex is a Texas drought, me and you do the kind of stuff that only Prince would sing about, so put your hands down my pants and I bet you’ll feel—“

“Jaskier?”

Jaskier yelped, dropping the phone to the table with a loud clatter and much raucous laughter from Triss. He swore and scooped it back up.

“Geralt! Hi! Sorry about that, uh, we’ve just had a bit to drink, just a little punchy over here. I didn’t, uh, I didn’t check the caller ID - but it looks like that wouldn’t have mattered because Yennefer has you listed as Grumpy. Not that it’s any of my business or anything but, um, why does my boss’ boss have you saved in her contacts?”

Triss laughed louder from her side of the table and made a large X with her forearms, nearly falling out of her seat at the sudden movement.

“We’re… friends. Could you have her call me back?”

“Of course! It was nice speaking with you, Geralt - tell Ciri I said hello!”

“I will. Good night, Jaskier.”

Jaskier dropped his head to the table and groaned piteously. “I hate Yennefer.”

“Oh I think you’ll find that was all you, darling.”

He turned to glare up at her from his new home. “Your contact names leave much to be desired.”

“How do you have Valdo Marx saved in your phone, again?”

“Satan - Do Not Answer. That’s a helpful instruction. Grumpy could be anyone.”

“Well if it’ll make you happy I can change it to Grumpy Ex - Answer After Shots.”

“Ex? Then you’re—“

“Ciri’s mother? No.” The witch dropped back into her seat and plucked her phone from Jaskier’s hand, already scrolling through it. “Geralt and I predate that by quite a bit. That’s his story to tell, but I can say that we’re much better as we are now. Too similar, too stubborn.”

Geralt: You’re a terrible person

Yennefer: I know, it keeps me up at night

Yennefer: Do I get a thank you?

Yennefer: Ciri said you’ve been the worst to be around since you ran into him at that amateur night. Sighing like a heartbroken teenager over having to listen to the original because you weren’t smart enough to record Jaskier’s performance.

Yennefer: Well you’re welcome

“Please tell me you got that on video.”

“Do I look like Geralt? Of course it’s on video. I think it’ll make a very good fifth anniversary gift.”

#htau #ian writes #geralt of rivia #yennefer of vengerberg #triss merigold #jaskier #the witcher netflix #the witcher #the witcher fic #i am once again on my lunch and looking for serotonin

[hannibard]

Waiting for You

My @thewitchersecretsanta gift for @ofxwordsxandxletters. I tried my best to incorporate the things you said you liked and I sincerely hope you enjoy. Happy Holidays!!!

Crossposted to AO3

Pairing: Geralt x Jaskier

It was early afternoon when Geralt made it back to the village covered in monster guts. It wasn’t a particularly difficult hunt, but it did take him quite a bit of time to actually find the cockatrice before killing it, so he returned later than he had originally planned.

The villagers quickly stopped chatting with each other when they saw him and made sure to avoid him as he and Roach passed through a dense road on their way to the alderman’s house. He had been on the path for many years and by now he was used to their hateful gazes along with the rotten stench of fear they always seemed to eminate.

He dropped the pouch containing the cockatrice’s head on the alderman’s threshold and accepted his meagre payment from the man, without having to exchange a single word with him, before going straight for the inn he and Jaskier were staying at.

He left Roach at the stable next to the building and made his way inside, expecting to find the bard singing to a bunch of drunkards, having started his set already, but when he entered the common room, he found it empty and with only a hint of Jaskier’s smell, meaning it had been at least a couple of hours since he’d last been there.

The witcher ignored the small pang of worry in his chest and hurried upstairs to their shared room. He threw the door open with a little too much force and looked around. The bard wasn’t inside as he had hoped, despite all his stuff was still being in the same place he had carelessly thrown them when they first arrived the day before. Even his lute, aka his most prized possession and love of his life, was here and he rarely ever went somewhere without it.

Geralt pinched the bridge of his nose and took a few deep breaths, suddenly feeling stupid for caring this much. Jaskier was a grown man after all. He could do whatever he wanted and Geralt had no right to keep him by his side, despite how much he secretly wanted to, but it wasn’t the right time for such thoughts.

Anyhow, Jaskier was probably off with some barmaid or stablehand that had caught his fancy and had decided to skip his usual performance seeing as they had more than enough coin saved up as of late.

Assuming his friend would be back after he’d had his fun, Geralt started on his typical post-hunt routine: placing his swords and pack on a corner, taking off his armor (though this time without the help of a certain someone’s skilled fingers), calling for a bath and a meal to be brought up and after he was both clean and fed, kneeling on the bed and meditating.

By the time he was done with everything, the sun had long set and with his enhanced senses Geralt could hear the rest of the inn’s guests getting ready for bed, but his bard had yet to return.

Feeling as though enough time had passed for his feelings of worry to be reasonable, the witcher went downstairs to the bar. He placed his empty plate and tankard on the counter and as a man got reluctantly closer to take them away, he asked:

“Have you seen the bard that was with me when I arrived anywhere?”

The man was startled to be addressed but he looked back at Geralt.

“I think he went to play gwent at ‘The Rusty Rapier’ with some guys around midday.”

Jaskier’s skills in gwent were notorious to involve quite a bit of cheating, and since it had been so many hours since he went off, Geralt had a bad feeling about this.

“How do I find this tavern?”

He was given directions by the other man and after going back up to the room to take his swords, he went straight to that place hoping nothing bad had happened to his bard, though he doubted that was the case since neither of them was ever that lucky.

.......

Locked inside an abandoned shed, Jaskier was sitting on the ground, hugging his knees and trying to calm himself down while rocking back and forth in a rhythmic motion.

When he was first thrown in here by the men he had tried to scam, after they’d given him a small beating and taken all the coin he had on him (thank Melitele he had left his pouch at the inn) it was still day outside and he could see clearly around him because of some holes on the shed’s wooden ceiling. And Jaskier was mostly fine at that point, just cheerfully singing to pass the time and waiting for his dearest friend Geralt to come rescue him.

Sure, the few wounds and bruises he had (admittedly deservingly) acquired from his gwent-playing buddies stung a bit but it was nothing compared to what some cuckolded husbands had done to him in the past. Plus, ultimately both in this case and all the previous ones where he’d been roughened up by someone he had brought it upon himself, so he couldn’t really complain.

And yeah, singing was always more fun when he had his lute with him but that wasn’t enough to faze him, he could easily make do even without any instrumental accompaniment. He was a professional musician after all.

But as the hours went by, one after the other, the light from outside started dimming, the temperature dropping and his optimism dying, Jaskier grew more and more anxious. He has always hated the dark ever since his childhood and the whole situation was making him recall old memories that he had tried his best to forget.

By this point he had run out of his own songs to sing and had moved on to the ones he had been taught at Oxenfurt, his voice much weaker than before.

He went to rub a hand over his face and noticed that it was slightly trembling, together with the rest of his body and even though it was very cold, he suspected it was only half the reason. He clenched his eyes shut and rested his forehead against his knees, hugging them closer to his torso. He really fucking hated the dark.

Deep breaths Julian, he though as he dug his nails to his upper arms in order to distract himself and sighed. You have no reason to fear. Geralt will probably be here soon and then both of us can leave this godforsaken place behind in the morning.

Except… what if Geralt didn’t come? What if he used this chance to finally get rid of him? After all it was a well-known fact that the older man only barely tolerated his presence.

Sure, Jaskier’s songs had helped lesser the prejudice that existed against Witchers and made it easier for him to find work, but that didn’t mean he needed Jaskier in his life, he’d made that perfectly clear from the start of their acquaintance. Hell, he still refused to even call Jaskier his friend for fucks sake. The bard had thought they’d grown closer over time but maybe that was only wishful thinking.

Jaskier was only a burden and a nuisance to Geralt, and he couldn’t deny that no matter how much it hurt to admit. Still, the bard loved and cared for him anyways. He always had since that fateful day in Posada.

He might have attached himself to the witcher’s side for mostly selfish reasons at first, but he quickly realized how kind and caring he was behind his tough exterior and how low his self-esteem had become from decades of dealing with humans’ contempt and so he had vowed to do everything in his power to create a better world for him.

And although he knew this love wasn’t mutual and that he should have been content by being able to stay with him, even if only as a travel companion, a small traitorous part of him would always crave for more...

Nevertheless, if the witcher was aware of Jaskier’s feelings towards him he probably would have ditched him in some backwater town a long time ago, and so the bard was careful to lock them up inside his chest and never let them show.

But what if he had been careless? What if he let his touch linger while washing Geralt’s hair a little too long? What if he had written a few too many love songs recently with references to ‘luscious silver hair’ and ‘perfectly sculpted biceps’?

Perhaps the reason Geralt hadn’t come yet was because he had left the village without him as his way of letting Jaskier down gently.

Or even worse, what if he’d gotten hurt? Cockatrices (as the witcher suspected the monster he was sent to kill this time was) were fairly easy for Geralt to handle if they were by themselves but accidents could always happen.

What if he was bleeding to death from a fatal wound right this moment when Jaskier had no way to find and help him? If he wasn’t such an idiot and gotten himself in this situation, he might have been able to save him.

All those what ifs were making Jaskier more and more distraught and he could feel tears fill his eyes. He buried his face in his hands and started sobbing quietly, no longer able to continue his singing when suddenly the door was kicked open. The musician looked up abruptly, but he couldn’t make out who was in front of him because of the darkness.

“Jaskier?!” yelled a very familiar gruff voice.

The bard’s eyes widened, and he wiped his tears with the back of his hand. “G-Geralt? Is that you?”

The witcher dropped to his knees beside him. “Yes, it’s me.” He said and started running his hands all over Jaskier’s body, checking for injuries. “You don’t seem badly hurt. Can you stand?”

The bard nodded and got up with his friend’s assistance. It was a bit hard since he felt as if his legs had turned to putty after staying in one position for so long but after leaning on the wall for a moment, he was able to take a few trembling steps. Geralt helped him get outside and onto Roach’s back before climbing to sit behind him. “How do you always manage to get in trouble?” The witcher asked as Roach started galloping towards the village.

Jaskier gave a weak laugh in response. “Must be a talent. How did the hunt go? Are you hurt anywhere?”

Geralt sighed and shook his head. “How you had time to worry about others when you were in that situation evades me.”

“Don’t avoid the question!”

“…The hunt went well and I didn’t get hurt.”

“Promise?” the bard asked, knowing the older man had a habit of hiding his injuries from him.

“Promise.”

Jaskier smiled softly and leaned on his chest, all of a sudden feeling very tired. “Good. How’d you find me?”

“I paid a visit to ‘The Rusty Rapier’ and asked about you. After a bit of threatening, the men you cheated at gwent told me where you were.”

“Heh…Took you long enough.” Jaskier grumbled.

“I thought you were just fucking someone’s wife or something, didn’t expect you to be locked in a shed.” Geralt answered but he sounded somewhat apologetic.

Jaskier chuckled. “I was kidding big buy. Thanks for coming.”

Geralt just hummed in response and the bard could feel the vibrations of it on his back as he dozed off.

.......

When he woke up, he found himself back at the inn’s room. He was laying on the bed in his nightclothes and as he sat up, he noticed that his wounds had been bandaged. The sight brought a small smile to his face. He was about to get up when the door opened and Geralt walked in, carrying a bowl of what seemed to be stew and a tankard of ale. He looked surprised to see Jaskier awake. “You’re up.”

“So it seems.”

The witcher placed the food on the table. “How do you feel?”

Jaskier thought about it. “A bit sore.”

Geralt huffed a laugh. “That’s to be expected. Come.”

Jaskier obeyed and got up, making his way to the table. He sat down and started eating eagerly, only now noticing how hungry he was. When he was done, he pushed the empty bowl away and looked up at the older man. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me, thank the innkeeper that had to get up and prepare this in the middle of the night.”

“No, not just that. For everything.” He said nodding towards his bandaged arm. “And… I’m sorry for always causing you trouble.”

The witcher looked a bit taken aback by that but he quickly schooled his expression. “It’s fine.”

Jaskier gave him a lopsided smile and looked down on his hands that were resting on his lap.       Geralt waited a bit to see if the bard would say anything and when it was apparent that that wasn’t going to happen, he took hold of the bowl and tankard and went downstairs to leave them somewhere for the innkeeper to find in the morning. He also dropped by the stables to check on Roach.

When he returned, the bard barely noticed his presence. He was still sitting in the same position, not having moved at all, looking dazed and forlorn. Geralt’s brows furrowed in worry and he sat down on the bed.

“Jaskier.”

The musician didn’t turn to look at him, still distracted by his own thoughts. “Hm?”

“What’s wrong?”

Jaskier blinked rapidly a few times and looked up at him. “Nothing’s wrong.”

Geralt sighed and rubbed his face. “You’ve been a bit… out of it. Since I found you.” The witcher had never been good with words, that was Jaskier’s job. But he desperately wanted to help his friend, so he pushed on. “I’ve just never seen you so uh. Quiet. You’ve always been unfazed by any situation, cracking jokes even when that griffin dislocated your shoulder.”

The bard glared at him “Well I though you fucking preferred the quiet.” he snapped and then immediately regretted it, his gaze softening. “Sorry… it’s just-” He cut off himself and sighed. He got up and came to sit next to the witcher. “You might laugh at me when you hear this but… I’m afraid of the dark.”

That definitely wasn’t what Geralt expected. “What? How’s that even possible? We’ve made camp in the woods countless times and you always seemed perfectly fine.”

Jaskier let out a nervous laugh. “That’s because you were there with me. I don’t have an issue when I’m with others but when I’m alone I just kind of lose it. Oh, and there’s also a bit of claustrophobia sprinkled in there.”

“Hm. I never would have guessed.”

The younger man snorted. “Well it’s not like I advertise it.” He scratched his cheek and bit his lower lip. ��So that’s why being in that shed affected me this much. Anyhow, I’ll be over it by morning probably.” He bumped the witcher with his shoulder. “Don’t worry, my silly little phobias won’t delay our schedule.”

Geralt immediately felt guilty for making his friend think he would care more about being back on the Path than his mental wellbeing. He frowned and took one of the bard’s hands in his own, giving it a little squeeze. “Jask, if you need more time I wouldn’t mind staying here for a few days longer. I-I just want you to be ok.”

Jaskier’s eyes widened and he looked as if he was about to cry. “Oh Geralt… This means a lot to me. Thank you.”

The witcher smiled at him and gave him a look that seemed full of affection, though Jaskier didn’t dare hope. “Anytime.” He coughed to clear his throat. “So… Do you want to talk about it? Your fear of the dark?”

“Well… There’s not much to say really… It started when I was very young, and my parents decided that to keep me from becoming even more of a disappointment they’d have to find new, stricter ways to punish me for my wrongdoings.” He ran his free hand through his hair. “And one of them was locking me inside a dark storage room for days, without giving me any food until they’d deemed that I had learned my lesson.”

Jaskier was retelling all that casually, as if he was talking about the weather but Geralt was horrified by his words. He always had a hunch that the bard likely didn’t have the best childhood- being a disowned noble and all- but he never guessed that it was actually that bad.

Because how could someone that didn’t receive any love as a child be so full of it as an adult? How could someone that grew up in such a joyless environment be able to spread happiness and laughter wherever he went? How could he wear his heart on his sleeve, letting anyone he met just take it from him and trample it down if he knew better?

“Jaskier that’s fucking horrible, how could you call the fear all that trauma has instilled in you just ‘silly little phobias’?!” His voice raised with each word he spoke, and he was yelling by the end of the sentence.

The bard flinched away from him and avoided his gaze. “Because it’s all in the past Geralt. It’s stupid, to be this affected by it still.”

The witcher was at a loss for words. Jaskier was a pretty talkative guy, always chatting about one thing or the other, but he rarely ever mentioned his family and now the older man could see why, even if he couldn’t completely relate.

Part of him would always resent his mother, Visenna, for abandoning him and thus leading him to the life of a witcher but even still, he had retained many nice memories from their short time together. Instances where she hugged and comforted him or sung him a lullaby to sleep, he treasured all of them dearly.

Because at the end of the day, even though it might not have been as strong in comparison to other mothers, Geralt knew in his heart that Visenna loved him.

And knowing that Jaskier probably couldn’t even be sure about that (because how could a parent that starved their child willingly for days and locked them up have any capacity for love and affection? With that being only one of the punishments) was paining him more than the bard could ever imagine. He wanted nothing more than to envelop him in his arms and protect him from the cruel world they were forced to live in.

He was perfectly aware of what all this meant of course. He might have been bad at dealing with emotions but after the first few years of travelling together, even he couldn’t continue to deny the feelings held towards Jaskier.

It was almost inevitable really. After spending so much time with someone like the bard, with his gorgeous smile and cornflower blue eyes, his easy-going attitude, his beautiful singing voice, someone that had not once been afraid because of him and that had stood up for him when others treated him unfairly, he was bound to fall in love.

“It’s not stupid Jask.” He said after a long exhale. “You’re so strong to have gone through something like that. Most people would have broken under such circumstances.”

Jaskier didn’t look convinced and he smiled wryly while shaking his head. “It’s music that saved me y’know. Whenever I was locked up, I would start singing the melody to whatever few songs I knew, and during those times I could almost forget the hunger and the cold and all the expectations I had failed to meet.” He sniffled and rubbed his eyes. “That’s why I decided to become a bard later on. So that I’d be able to create music too, and maybe help other people when they’re feeling down and give them hope through it.”

When the bard finished speaking, Geralt brought his free hand up and wiped a stray tear that had slid down his cheek. “You’ve done a wonderful job so far. I know I don’t say it much, but I really like all your songs. Yes, even the ones about me.”

Jaskier snickered inelegantly, surprised by his words. “You might regret admitting that darling cause I’m never gonna let you live it down.”

Geralt chuckled. “Hm. True that.” He said and gave the musician a small sad smile. Jaskier rolled his eyes elbowed him in the stomach.

“Oh come on, don’t make that face now! Honestly, if I knew you’d be this affected I wouldn’t have told you.” He said teasingly, trying to make this conversation a bit more lighthearted but the witcher wasn’t having it. He grimaced and maneuvered his body to better face the bard.

“Of course I’m affected Jaskier, how could I possibly not be?! To me you are...” He stopped himself before he could finish that sentence. Nothing good would come if he revealed his feelings to Jaskier. Such a bright person that had their whole life ahead of them would never be interested in a witcher. The bard had helped him see himself in a better light in recent years but that didn’t change the fact that he was a monster, a mutant killing machine that was undeserving of the kind and sweet musician.

Jaskier, unaware of Geralt’s internal monologue, tilted his head the side, looking simultaneously curious and adorable. “…To you I’m what?”

Geralt avoided his gaze. Even in the best-case scenario, the witcher could only hope that the bard would take into consideration their friendship and long history together and not show his disgust too much. Maybe even begin a relationship with him out of pity, but it wouldn’t last long.

Geralt had seen the way Jaskier’s previous flings had gone. He always fell head over heels for some random person that he met during their travels and spent a few weeks, or months at most lavishing them with attention but after that time period passed, he’d fall out of love just as quickly and leave his ex-paramour behind as he rejoined the witcher’s side.

It always secretly pleased Geralt, making him feel superior. Because even if he could never really have Jaskier, not like those other people did, at least he had the knowledge that the younger man would always come back to him. It helped lessen the sting of his jealousy.

And if he ever were to be the recipient of Jaskier’s attentions, no matter how nice it could be at first, he wouldn’t be able to bear it when he became the next person Jaskier left behind, especially after getting a taste of everything he ever wanted. That would only serve to haunt him in his dreams.

But the bard deserved to know. He had just laid down his heart and let Geralt see him at his most vulnerable state. That meant he trusted him enough to do that and the witcher wanted to show him how much he appreciated it by in turn showering him with all the love and affection he held for him. So he took one large breath to brace himself and let the truth out.

“To me you’re everything.”

Jaskier’s eyes widened but he didn’t pull away. “Huh?”

Geralt started tracing circular patterns with his thumb on the other man’s hand. “It’s exactly as I said. When I first met you, I thought you were just a stupid kid looking for adventure and easy coin, and that once you had a taste you’d go back where you came from. But you never did. You stuck next to me through thick and thin, no matter how much I tried to push you away or treated you like shit. You were like an angel, entering my life out of the blue and improving it in every aspect.”

“I hadn’t even realized how lonely I was until you came along. Back then I only focused on my job as a witcher, not really caring if I’d make it out alive whenever I fought a monster. But nowadays I’m extra careful and I try harder just so that I can see you again. You’ve made life worth living again Jask and I… I love you.”

Jaskier just stared at him with his mouth hanging open.

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Was it possible that he was still locked in that shed and had begun to hallucinate from the lack of food? Because this whole situation definitely seemed too good to be true.

He pinched himself hard on the arm for good measure.

“Ouch!” Yeah no, it was real. “Are-are you serious?”

Geralt pursed his lips and nodded, looking almost comically grim. He could hear the other’s heartbeat start to pick up.

“And I understand if you feel uncomfortable and want me to be gone by morning, I’m not expecting anything so-hmph!” He was interrupted as Jaskier’s lips crashed onto his. The witcher froze, not able to comprehend what was happening right away but when he did, he wrapped both arms around the other man’s waist and kissed him back with vigor.

When they eventually had to break apart, they were both breathing heavily and Jaskier rested his forehead on Geralt’s, chest heaving, and felt an involuntary shiver run up his spine. “Gods, I’ve wanted to do this for so long.”

The older man brought his hand up and started petting his hair gently, feeling giddy and a little nervous. “Me too.”

This had gone much better than expected and no matter how things turned out in the future, he would never regret this moment.

Jaskier pulled away to look him with the brightest smile on his lips, his eyes crinkling in the corners with the force of it. “I love you too dear heart, I have since the day we met.”

Geralt blinked in shock. “You have? But you never said anything and you’ve been in a thousand relationships since then.”

“That’s because I never expected you to feel the same way! No one else could ever compare to you witcher and now that I have you, I’ll never look at other people ever again.”

Jaskier laced their hands back together and brought them up to his mouth, giving a kiss on the back of the witcher’s palm, letting his lips linger for a few seconds. “I promise.”

With all his worries gone, Geralt grinned at his bard and pulled him to his chest for a tight embrace.

They sat there like that for a long time, just basking in each other’s presence and their close proximity.

“…We’re both pretty stupid aren’t we?”

“Pffft, we sure are.” Jaskier said as he nuzzled his lover’s chest when a thought entered his mind. “By the way, how long has it been since you last slept?”

“Two days give or take.”

The bard looked up at him horrified. “What the hell Geralt! We have to fix that immediately.” He said and blew out the few candles that were still lighting the room, before pushing the witcher to lie down on the bed and joining him. They curled around each other on their sides, torsos facing, and Jaskier buried his face on Geralt’s neck as the older man pulled the blankets over them. When they were settled, he wrapped his arms around the bard and tangled their feet together.

The younger man was about to fall asleep when he heard the witcher’s deep voice calling his name.

“Jaskier?”

“Yeah?”

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you since before this whole thing happened.”

“M’listening.”

“…Do you want to come to Kaer Morhen with me for the winter?”

Geralt held his breath as he waited for a response. It came in the form of Jaskier pulling back slightly, only to give him a long, gentle kiss.

“Of course I’ll come darling.”

The witcher was relieved and felt excited for the months to come. He smiled softly even though he knew the other man couldn’t see it. “Then we’ll have to buy you one of those thick woolen coats you hate sometime soon.”

Jaskier groaned. “Fuck. I guess it’s worth it.” He gave him one last kiss before closing his eyes once more. “Goodnight love.”

“…Goodnight.” Geralt replied and then dozed off to the best sleep he’d had in decades.

#witcher secret santa #2020 #geralt of rivia #jaskier #geraskier #the witcher #gerlion #dandelion #julian alfred pankratz #fanfiction #text #hurt/comort #whump #love confessions #getting together #idiots to lovers #mutual pining #angst with a happy ending

[lenalawlipop]

December 31: Quiet

So... this is the final one! I'm posting three in a row today because I really just wanted to finish them xDD I hope you guys enjoy it! This happens in the same AU as that one other prompt I did with dog!Roach, but much further along.

Prompt list here ❄️

Read on AO3

Roach scratched at the front door as soon as she heard Jaskier’s keys jingling and heard him chuckle. The key turned, and he entered the flat. He ruffled her ears, and she whined, calling him to the bedroom. He followed.

“Geralt? Is Ciri still…?”

“Not asleep,” Geralt confirmed, with an amused huff. “I think Roach is more tired than us.”

“I think so too,” Jaskier laughed. “Let me take this all off and wash my hands.”

“Sure.”

Noooo nonono!

Roach whined again, and Jaskier laughed, stepping around her to reach the entrance again, hang his coat and leave his mask behind as well. He blew her a kiss, but ignored her pleas for a little longer still, washing his hands thoroughly.

“We can’t bring germs into the house, Roachie,” he explained to her for the umpteenth time. “Ciri is still very young and could catch something. We don’t want that, do we?”

He did, however, hurry towards the bedroom once he was finished, shedding his shirt in the way. Geralt looked at him, smiled.

“Take the jeans off too, no outside clothes in the bedroom,” he muttered, a tired instruction like the many others they had implemented since Ciri had come home.

Roach jumped onto the bed, whining when Jaskier put her back on the floor. He took her space instead. He’d put on a soft pair of trousers, and he was quick to scoop his daughter up, cuddle her closer. She laughed, tickled with the hair on his chest. Geralt sighed, rubbing his eyes.

“She’s been crying a lot today; I think she’s teething… But you know how much Roach hates it. She’s a bit desperate for affection.”

“And probably also for some exercise,” Jaskier added, softly. He leaned to the side to press a kiss on Geralt’s lips. “You should get some air as well before it’s too dark outside. I’ll put her to bed, alright? Take Roach on a walk?”

“Hmm, I should…”

“You’ve been cooped up all day lately, what with helping out with Pavetta and Duny’s funeral,” Jaskier added, even softer if possible. “Walk off some of the stress. I’ll fix dinner tonight.”

“Don’t worry… leftovers.”

“Right. Then I’ll have those ready to eat if you let me know when you’re on your way back.”

“Ciri might not go to sleep for a while.”

“I’ll sing to her. It’s been working so far, right?”

“Hmm.”

“We’ll make it work, Geralt.”

Roach put her paws on the bed again, but this time she wasn’t shoved off. Jaskier was busy looking at Geralt, who seemed to have burrowed his face into Jaskier’s neck. Roach whined, and they both looked at her. Geralt’s eyes were a little watery, but he didn’t smell of tears yet. He pet her ears.

“I think your other child is worried about you,” Jaskier joked. Geralt cracked a smile.

“She’s a good pup… She keeps an eye on Ciri all the time, don’t you Roachie?” he asked her. It lacked his usual warmth, but he sounded so tired lately that Roach didn’t mind. She nosed at his hand. “Let’s take you for a walk, then.”

Walk!

Jaskier’s voice was clear as she and Geralt left the room. He sang to the baby a lot, and it took Roach a few minutes to remember she was going after Geralt. He smiled at her when she joined him in the entrance.

“He has a sweet voice, doesn’t he?” he mused, his cheeks reddening slightly. “I suppose that’s how we got together, so…”

Roach remembered. Those days were quieter, but Geralt had started to hum along with songs when he’d found Jaskier’s music. Roach had come to him a few years before, and she’d never heard him sing before. He had a nice voice too, she thought, even though Geralt had always seemed rather sheepish about it. He had been serious, and taciturn, when Roach had first met him. He would take her on walks, and he would pet her and groom her, but it had taken him a while to start talking to her. They had gotten to know each other since then…

Geralt only talked to her like this when they were alone, though. It made her feel special, like he was telling her a secret, even though sometimes it was most certainly not secrets what he talked about. Like right now.

“I didn’t expect Jaskier to stick around,” he admitted. Roach had already heard him say this many times, so she continued walking ahead, listening with half an ear. “I wasn’t sure he’d say yes, either.”

Yet another familiar sentiment.

“Gods, Roach, you just don’t care, do you,” he laughed. “I’m getting married, you dork, and you don’t care.”

She barked at him. Of course she cared! But she was not nearly as surprised as Geralt seemed to be by this turn of events. Humans tended to give their mates shiny jewelry for their fingers, so frankly, it was grossly overdue that Geralt gave something to Jaskier.

"I think you'll get used to Ciri soon, too," he continued. "I got used to Jaskier's babbling eventually, didn't I? Well, now's your turn to suffer. Ciri isn't nearly as loud, at least not yet, so I don't know what you're complaining about."

The walk went on in silence for a few minutes after that.

Roach wasn’t really bothered by the small child. She was a little noisy, a little smelly, and slept very little. But she knew pups were like that too. She was rather more concerned about Geralt, if she was being honest.

Ever since he got this child, he'd been so quiet… almost like he was in the beginning. And it worried Roach, because Geralt had come such a long way… but now he was back to that, speaking very little, taking her on walks less, crying when he thought she and Jaskier were asleep. Roach didn't really know what had happened, but she'd gathered from Jaskier that someone had passed recently.

It worried her even more.

She wasn't getting any younger, and though she still had a good few years in her, she wasn't sure who was going to take care of her human when she…

"I'm getting married," Geralt repeated all of a sudden, startling her. "Fuck, I'm getting married. To Jaskier. I'm going to be Jaskier's husband."

He’d slowed down at some point, his usual strides much smaller than Roach was used to, and she returned to his side to nose at his hands with a whine. His fingers were trembling, but there was the hint of a smile in his face. He rubbed her ears.

“Do you even know what that means? I guess not, huh…”

Did it mean something? Mates were mates, weren’t they?

“In the good and the bad, in sickness and in health, from now until death do us part…” Geralt mused, and now Roach was starting to get really worried. “That’s what it means,” he explained. “Marriage. It’s… a promise. We already adopted Ciri, you and I. Now we’re getting Jaskier. Our little family grows, Roach. We have a family now. A family that should be Duny’s. He fought for his wife, they fought for their daughter, and now…”

For a moment they stood there, the winter wind cutting through their clothes and fur. Roach would have sat down, but the ground was covered in snow… A nearby voice was what finally got them out of their bubble. A lady with a poodle, asking if they were alright. Geralt looked up, and Roach was able to scent the tears in his eyes. He stared at the lady for a second, putting on a small smile for her. He hummed, somewhat affirmatively, and the lady went away, but Roach knew better. She got closer still, pressing against his legs like she used to do when she was a pup. He leaned down to pet her.

“Let’s keep walking or we’ll freeze our butts off… Jaskier would be so worried, too,” Geralt said, and he managed a huff of amusement at the end. “You know, one of these days, he’ll take your crown for number one worrier about me in this household, Your Majesty Roach The Mighty.”

Geralt hadn’t called her that in ages! She barked, wagging her tail, and he chuckled as they started walking again.

He’d given her an idea anyway. Jaskier! They were mated now, and married, whatever that meant. And they had a child! Jaskier would protect her human with her, and humans lived so much more than dogs… Geralt would be taken care of!

Roach waited patiently as Geralt wiped the snow and water off of her paws as they stepped into the apartment again, but she jumped at her first chance to go find Jaskier. He was still humming, more quietly now, in the living room. The baby wasn’t with him, but the noise machine that showed them whenever Ciri moved was by his side. He gasped when Roach put her paws on his lap, jumping on his seat. He took his earphones off, turning around. The computer had the funny pictures that meant he was composing.

“You said you’d tell me when you were on your way back,” Jaskier complained in a whisper. Geralt snorted.

“Forgot. Sorry. I’ll take care of dinner instead.”

“I’ll set the table in a minute, let me save this.”

“Easy.”

Routines, Roach supposed, weren’t as bad when they were already set. She’d need more time to get used to the Ciri routines, but this? This was simple enough. Dinner wasn’t usually quiet, but Jaskier seemed to sense there was something in Geralt’s mind and didn’t pry. He sneaked Roach some of his dinner though, to keep her quiet as well. She obliged. Geralt only noticed halfway through the meal, and frowned.

“Jas?”

“Geralt?”

“You’re quiet.”

“I’ve been speaking all day,” he pointed out mildly, amused. “I thought you liked it when I’m quiet.”

“I do,” Geralt rolled his eyes. “I just like it more when I make you quiet. Like this, it’s just strange.”

This made Jaskier laugh, and he extended a hand to lace their fingers together above the table.

“You’ve taken their deaths so…”

“Hm?”

“You’re so quiet, too, all the time,” he sighed. “It’s hard to say if you need help sometimes. I know you struggle with asking, but something like a death, so close, too… You’re carrying a lot on your shoulders, love.”

Oh, yes, this was good! Talking! Geralt always needed some prompting to talk. Well done, Jaskier! Roach wagged her tail in delight and made her escape out of the kitchen before Geralt could answer, using their distraction.

She’d been right about Jaskier, it seemed.

Her family would be in good hands.

#Lena writes #the witcher #geraskier #Roach #winter prompts #Witcher Winter Prompts 2020

[letstalkaboutshtufff]

Geralt x reader We're Married? Part 1

Hey guys, thank you so much for all the love for my other story! I was so nervous posting it and you guys were just the best💕 this story was harder to write and I'm not sure it's as good as the other one but I'm gonna post it anyway. 

This can be read as a part 3 to the injured reader story:)

Part 2 here

Pairing: Geralt x Reader

Warnings: Cursing, blood, mentions of death, mentions of past sexual abuse.

*********************

Out of all the places you'd traveled too with the witcher, this had to be one of the nicest.

As you walked through the kingdom known as Servia you couldn't help but stare at everything around you. Vendors lined the streets selling everything you could possibly imagine, shining jewelry, beautifully woven fabrics, and oooooooh well well well what do we have here!!!

You made a beeline for the tray of freshly baked pastries, a seductive look on your face,

"Well hello boys...which one of you wants to come home with me hehehe, or perhaps I should take you all home? Oooh your so bad hehe, well if you insist hahahahaha".

From afar Geralt sighed and Jaskier just looked on with disturbing confusion, "Geralt? What exactly is she doing?" His face twisted uncomfortablely as you continued talking and giggling like a maniac.

"She has a thing about....desserts" Geralt closed his eyes and shuddered as he remembered the one time he left you alone in an inn and you used up all of his coin to order one of literally everything on the menu. He practically had to roll you away afterwards.

"My God geralt shes scaring the baker now".

Jaskier scrunched his mouth as he watched you continue to whisper to the pastries, completely unaware of the weird looks people were giving you." I swear brothel whores are more subtle.."

Geralt grunted and made his way over to you, "We'll uh...take however much this will get us" he placed a coin in the bakers hand and watched your eyes glint like a maniac when he handed you the box.

"There now that you have your sweets, can we please hurry! We can't be late!" Jaskier pleaded pushing you in the correct path again.

"Alright alright no more stops I promise....wait does anyone else smell chocolate?" You look around frantically.

"NO" the both of them shout in unison and drag you forward.

"Ugh ok, I was just asking geez.."you pout.

"Remind me again who we're meeting?" You questioned, looking up at Jaskier who rolled his eyes back at you.

"Ugh how many times do I have to tell you?!"

"His name is Yavert, hes the advisor of the royal family here and he also happens to be the man who requested our help".

You nodded your head, "oh yes I remember now" ok you actually had no idea what he was talking about but whatever, you'll figure it out.

Some time later you found yourselves gawking at the massive architecture that was the Castle de Servia. Calling it massive would be doing it a disservice. The structure went higher than your eyes could see and wider than any other castle you've been to. "Holy fuck.." Jaskier whispered in awe.

Geralt shook his head as if he was already fed up with it all, "let's go"

The guards led you through the castle and into a small side room. Red carpets lined the floors along with a beautiful mahogany table. The walls had several portraits, obviously of the royal family. You saw an older man, a woman, and a young girl about your age all ornately painted. Hmm why do people always look so upset in portraits. Couldn't the artist just add a smile?

A creak at the door gained everyone's attention. A man, probably in his mid fifties, entered. He was balding and on the fluffier side, dressed in a puffy sleeved shirt, with a velvet red vest over it.

"Welcome, please, have a seat, you all must be tired from your jouney" he said gesturing to the chairs.

"You have no idea what a relief it is to have you here Geralt of Rivia" a look of exhaustion fell over face.

"So what's the job" Geralt asked, straight to the point as usual.

The man looked uncomfortable for a moment before he scooted closer and leaned in as if he was telling a secret,

"Well..our...problem, began a few weeks ago when the alliance between Targeris and our own kingdom was official. Since then there have been several banquets of celebration, as there are still many things being discussed and processed. One of those being the upcoming wedding of our Princess Annora and their Prince Edgrin. Hence the big celebration we are having this evening, an engagement party of sorts."

"And the problem?" Geralt cocked a brow.

The man swallowed before continuing, "Well..since the alliance, there have been disappearances..."

"Dissapearances?" You echoed interested.

"Important Servia officials have suddenly been going missing..the first on the night the kings signed the peace agreement, the second when the marriage was announced.. and then.." he looked around wearily and lowered his voice even more, "things have gotten much worse.."

"How exactly did they get worse" Geralt inquired, suspicious of how Yavert was acting.

"At the last party, about a week ago, one of our ambassadors was found dead.."

Geralt narrowed his eyes, "what aren't you saying.."

The man gulped, " it was the way he died, no man could have..." he paused closing his eyes, obvious memories making him shudder. "No man could have done it, it had to be a monster".

"How can you be so sure?" You asked leaning in now intrigued.

"The body..was so mangled we could barely identify the man. His innards were ripped out and his eyes...they were gone. Clearly it was the work of a beast."

Geralt narrowed his brows, "I have never encountered a monster before that hand picks their pray." You nodded in agreement.

All the monsters you'd faced just destroyed everything in their path. And why would a monster suddenly decide to start targeting officials from Servia? It just doesnt make any sense.

"Please witcher, help us with finding and slaying the creature and we will pay whatever means necessary" he placed a large pouch in front of us.

"Hmm" geralt thought for a few moments, then turned to you wordlessly asking your opinion. A new habit that did make you feel more like partners.

You shrugged your shoulders in a "why not?" Sort of way.

"Alright what the hell.." he grabbed the pouch and stood up.

"Wait, theres a few more things you need to know.." Geralt sat back down with a grunt.

"It is important that you are discreet, no one can know who you or your companions are, not even the king and queen themselves.."

"What?!" Your eyes widened.

"They dont know?" Geralt asked completely bewildered.

"I have advised the king and queen since they first began their reign many years ago. They trust me with their lives I would never lie to them...except..." he sighed and continued, "we have been at odds with targeris for so long, and finally peace is withing our grasp.

But if the king catches wind of what's going on, he will no doubt blame Targeris. Our king is good, but his fault lies with his hate for Targeris. It took much convincing from everyone to finally have the king agree to peace. But he would quickly jump to accuse them. I have no doubt a war would begin if this were to happen...for the sake of peace, they cannot know.." he looked down in shame.

"And the king just doesn't notice all these officials have gone missing?" Geralt shook his head in disbelief.

"Well...we have done our best to cover them up...but the king is getting suspicious, which is why we need to figure out what exactly is going on before anything else happens."

Everything about this job just seemed off. A monster who hand picks their prey, disappearing officials, and the king hasnt even the slightest idea?

"How are we supposed to find this monster without having our identities revealed?" You cocked your head in question.

"Ah yes well, I have prepared an airtight alias for the both of you, after all if you're going to fool people, you will need real identities"

"Fool people? Why cant we just stay in the shadows until something pops up?". Monster hunting in your experience was much easier when there weren't people around. Probably monster hunting rule #1.

"Unfortunately you would not be able to as the king has eyes and ears everywhere, it would not be long before youd be questioned and ultimately found out." Yavert explains.

"Alright.." you say hesitantly, "So how are we supposed to track the monster then?

"So far all the accidents have occurred during nightfall. By blending in as elite members of society, no one will question you as you move about, not even the royal family."

God this just keeps getting more confusing..

"So not only do we have to worry about finding a seemingly brilliant monster, but also worry about being found out?" Jaskier piped in for the first time this entire conversation.

"Yes that's correct.." he nodded slowly.

"Unfortunately I was only able to manage 2 identities, you will be known as Sir and Lady Trestin. A well known name, although the couple is known for not socializing so the risk of someone recognizing that you're not them is extremely low, here are your official invitations you will have to present at the door." He slid some documents our way.

"Wait I'm sorry did you say couple? As in couple of friends? Couple of siblings? Couple of cousins??" Surely he didnt mean-

"The lady and sir Tristan and husband and wife..is that a problem?" He questioned eyebrow raised.

"No of course not.." Um maybe a little! Sure I've fantasized about it before *cough* but now to actually act it out?? This was going to be an adventure for sure..

"What about me?" Jaskier pipes in again.

"You can be our dog" Geralt says not missing a beat.

"Oh that's low geralt" he recoils dramatically.

"How about servant boy?" You offer with a shrug.

"Do I have to?" He gives a puppy dog look to Yavert.

"I'm afraid it's the only way" Yavert smiled slightly.

"Alright, now then, this is the address you will go to for preperation my lady and for the sirs, you'll come with me" you all stood up and parted ways.

Geralt as your husband? This could actually be fun..

‐------------------------------------------------

"OUCH" you yelled for the thousandth time at the stupid woman who's mission was to tighten your corset until your eyes popped out.

"I'm sorry my lady but this must be done.." you sighed holding the wall for support.

"Especially a lady as...." she trailed off.

"Curvy as you.." did this bitch just?!?!

"You're job is to get me ready not tell me I've eaten too many sweets in my day" you rolled your eyes.

"Besides its nearing winter, I need the extra fluff for survival purposes"

"Well I think a little extra meat on a girl is highly attractive" a new voice chimed in.

"Jaskier? When did you get here?" You couldn't help out the small laugh when you truly got a good look at him. He wore the typical servants garb but his hair had been slicked back. He looked like a boiled egg.

"Don't you laugh too! I swear you and Geralt are so mean to me" he dejectedly sprawled himself out on a cushioned chair.

"Speaking of.." you looked at the door, "Where is he?"

"Hes still getting ready, a sir takes much longer than a mere servant." You laughed at his miserable tone.

"Oh lighten up Jaskier, servant boys have plenty of fun at these parties too, I'm sure some lady will see your puppy face and take you in" you smirked.

"Let's hope so.." another girl came in this time holding a few brightly colored dresses in her arms.

"Turn around boy" the older woman scolded.

"And you, arms up!" You complied as she slid the softest fabric you've ever felt over your body.

Your turned to look at the mirror, "Eww gross no way, Jaskier look! I'm a pineapple!" You both laughed annoying the girls. "Alright next!"

*insert shopping montage with corny music here*

"This one?"

Nods head

Next!

Both nod heads

Maybe? Actually nevermind..

No

No

No

Next

Eww what even is this color barf in the spring??

No

WAIT! HELL YES!

Jaskier nods in agreement.

*Montage ends*

An hour later you were ready, the beautuful _____ colored gown was the perfect shape on your body. It wasnt like most of the boring dresses you had tried on. And you decided to ditch the corset..

"It isnt proper!" One scolded.

"But you have to admit, it's a hell of alot sexier.." Jaskier nodded looking over me.

"Plus I can actually breathe!" And besides how were you supposed to fight monsters if you couldn't move? You left that part out obviously.

The girls just shook their heads in exasperation and finished up your hair and make up in another room.

"There now you're ready" the ladies smiled in satisfaction and left. You thanked them and made your way out to where Jaskier was.

His eyes lit up when he saw you, "Y/n! You look amazing! Although you always look beautiful" he smirked taking your arm.

"Thank you Jaskier, after everything those ladies put me through I better look like a fucking goddess" you both laughed remembering how he had to hold you down while they waxed your legs.

Together you left the shop and you swore for a moment you forgot how to breathe. Now Geralt in full body armor is one thing, but princely Geralt? Well your dreams were Surely going to be wild tonight. Never had you seen the witcher so finely pressed before. It was very...refreshing.

His gaze rose as he finally noticed the two of you. You forgot how to breathe when he looked over you. "Well? What do you think?" You asked a little embarrassed.

"Well...no one will be questioning who you are when you're looking like that" the corner of his lips rose slighty and he stepped to the side, gesturing us into the waiting carriage.

That was a compliment right?? He meant like because you look so beautiful so one is going to ask questions right? Not, well you look like a snooty aristocrat so no one will question???? Ok I'm going with the first one. Stop overthinking geez.

The ride to the castle was quick and soon you were arm in arm with your "husband".

"Come along boy, don't dawdle" geralt teased behind him.

"Dont be mean" you lightly shoved him but couldn't help but laugh as well.

"What great friends I have.."he mumbled....

******************

Ok so that's part 1, lemme know if it's any good. Also I'm kinda new to this so I don’t know the tagging etiquette lol so I just tagged whoever asked. Also part 2 will be uploaded tonight too as soon as I finish editing xoxo 

@marvels-gurl @shane-isa-shame @waitingtobeimpressed @viking-raider @dream-alittlebiggerdarling

#geralt x reader #geralt of rivia #the witcher #romance #jaskier #student #apprentice #we're married #part 1 #pt 1 #Geralt x reader we're married #love #mage #blood #hurt #injury #wife #husband #fanfiction #geralt x oc #self insert #apprentice reader #reader #injured reader #fake marriage #married #geralt x reader we're married

[postmodernmulticoloredcloak]

Time for The Witcher episode 4!!

So the last episode was Intense(TM) and also I finally realized that the show isn’t happening all at the same time but it’s following multiple timelines, which, better late than never. Now things make more sense...

Alright, bando alle ciance and let’s do this.

“Ciri! Ciri” Cirilla: yes? “Not you, I was talking to Siri. What’s the weather going to be tomorrow”

That’s such a stupid joke. Unfollow me right now, it’s okay.

Glowy Forest Intensifies... oh, there’s people now. Forest Dora Milaje aren’t happy to see her, which is understandable, I guess. But the boss arrives.

Meanwhile, except not meanwhile, a man has had a very bad day. Apparently the nickname White Wolf has stuck. Remember when we thought the MCU was going to make Bucky into a Black Panther character as the White Wolf, official media outlet even used the White Wolf as a title for Bucky, and then it ended up in nothing? Sorry for the digression but I really hoped we’d get Bucky written by Ryan Coogler and I was really disappointed when that didn’t happen but *waves around* all of that happened instead. I mean, technically it’s not too late to make it happen but Bucky is a Disney+ creature now, so, bye.

Hello Jaskier! My boy! I missed you.

Ah, the new media image campaign is working. 

“You never get involved, except you actually do, all of the time” I love this XD “I don’t do emotions or attachments” character who does emotions intensely all the time and gets attached to everyone they meet paired with “sure Jan” character who calls them out is a very good dynamic.

Ah, yes, this is perfect. I’m sorry but dark brooding protagonist and bubbly comic relief sidekick is my secret weakness.

No offense, Geralt, but those clothes did need a good washing after your latest job, so don’t make that face.

Blah blah royal affairs I should probably pay attention to.

“I am not going to protect you” [*Spongebob font* five minutes later...]

But yeah, the princess is Cirilla’s mother, I suppose, and I’m sure the marriage that produces Scream Princess is super important. She is very pretty and has lovely hair. Sometimes I wish I had long hair I could braid artistically.

The princess doesn’t want to get married to some strange dude, but the queen is A Very Strong Woman(TM) and has no time for silly things like her daughter’s feelings over the most life-changing decision in her life. She’s an interesting character for sure, and the narrative doesn’t try to frame her as either definitely good or bad, which is interesting.

Oh! Rat Boy isn’t dead! That’s great. That makes sense narratively, native forest women who suffered genocide from colonizers wouldn’t kill an elf boy who went through the same thing.

Promised husband is a shitty dude. Queen Calanthe likes Geralt, which, relatable. But she and her entourage are racist assholes, and the next scene with Cirilla and Dara tell us that their anti-elf talk isn’t just talk.

By the way, now we know for sure how much time there is between Geralt’s timeline and Cirilla’s.

The queen doesn’t like feminine dresses. Lady is trying to overcompensate a lot. But her banter with Geralt is entertaining.

The first suitor is from Nilfgaard, and in hindsight it would have been a wise choice to unify the two kingdoms... C’mon, poor guy is just awkward, he doesn’t deserve the humiliation. Or is he the guy who’ll make war later? The pilot threw too much new information at me the other day.

Yennefer is bored... and apparently 30 years has passed since the last we saw of her. (I refuse to try to understand when in relation to the other plots that puts this scene. Things will click together at some point or I’ll just accept whatever happens and nod along.) And coincidentally she is paired with a woman who laments being only considered important as a baby-producing womb. Oops. Awkward.

Not relevant to the show but my parents never get inside my room as often as while I am watching something on Netflix.

Yennefer thinks life as a court mage sucks, queen Kalis thinks life as a baby-maker sucks. They envy each other for what the other has, but they’re probably both right.

Well, boredom is no longer a problem.

Oh, poor queen, her husband paid to have her killed because she’s only given him daughters. Two episodes in a row about female heirs to kings, plus queen Calanthe being female and having a daughter who’ll have a daughter. Theeemes!

You can’t be rude to the only person who is your only hope not to die horribly, girl.

Queen Calanthe is frustrated she isn’t a man, which we could guess. She also likes the simplicity of killing, which we could also guess.

Oh! It’s almost pre-decided husband’s time to claim the girl’s hand in marriage, but New Guy appears! He’s been cursed and Mr I Don’t Pick Sides Ever No Matter What, guess what, picks a side. The audience is shocked. No one could foresee this unexpected turn of events.

Noooo the baby!!! Yennefer loses a rare chance to acquire a baby. This is sad. Damn this show doesn’t shy away from killing children, such a different feel from most stories we’re used to.

These people are weird with destiny. Calanthe says fuck destiny, Geralt says lol mood but just because you’re a queen doesn’t mean you’re above sacred rules.

OOOOH Calanthe says fuck sacred rules and it does not go well. Is this happening because she tried to mess up with the order of the world and chaos said hi? Was the princess always magical or did this happen because destiny will have its way no matter what?

Ah, her grandmother had it, she never manifested it before until now, when circumstances awoke it.

Queen Calanthe acknowledges destiny, and of course they’re all dressed in green like the mages of Feminist Hogwarts aka Chaos School. I should have paid more attention to colors but green seems to be the color of magic slash chaos slash destiny.

Then bam, red. Men. Violence.

Everyone in the forest is also dressed in green... Colors aren’t really my thing, you might have noticed that I rarely analyze colors in Supernatural and I’m not particularly into what which color means and I only notice things when they’re very obvious like the purple of transformation-slash-death, so, yeah, I am not the kind of person who notices colors until they slap me in the face. I guess this is my slap in the face by this show’s color palette XD

Also consider that I watch everything with f-lux on, so I don’t even see colors the way they actually look, I guess that’s why it’s harder for me to notice colors when everything looks orange.

Alriiiiight *disables f.lux for current app*

Oh. Oh. So this is how this show looks like.

Awkward. This is so embarrassing.

I should rewatch the whole thing with real colors now... well, another time.

Anyway, Dara has drunk antidepressant juice, but it doesn’t work on Ciri, because she is Relevant(TM) to destiny so she can’t forget her past otherwise the plot destiny can’t happen.

Sleep well baby.

Aaah husband’s curse is broken! Yay.

Geralt accidentally acquires a bond with a baby. One baby dead and Yennefer’s potential bond with her lost, one baby on her way and Geralt’s future bond with her created. So this is all about parallels based on babies and births. Cool.

In the future, destiny has arrived and indeed wrought calamity on the court and the city. Someone makes something gross with Calanthe’s dead body--a spell to learn the location of Cirilla. Trouble is coming.

Oh! It’s him, he’s not dead? And taking something from Calanthe (that will be relevant later)?

Ciri drinks stronger juice and goes to the ancestral plane, er, I mean has a vision of a Very Important Tree, sorry I had Black Panther stuck in my head from before.

Well this is very interesting and things are starting to click together and yeah it’s a weird ride but I’m enjoying it! I suppose only at the end of the season you get the full picture of why and when everything has happened so I’m just sitting here metaphorically eating popcorn waiting for things to make sense on their own rhythm. There’s a theme of motherhood and babies and it seems that Geralt’s destiny is to become a metaphorical mother for Cirilla? Or am I mixing him up with a similar kind of character with a tendency to become everyone’s mom? Anyway, I’m looking forward to see what happens.

#the witcher