Falling to You
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, The Witcher (TV)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Characters: Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Additional Tags: Inspired by Fanart, Alternate Universe - Merpeople, MerMay, Near Death Experiences, Drowning, i mean he doesn't but it's close, Pre-Slash, Angst, Fluff, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, Jaskier | Dandelion's Parents Being Assholes, Jaskier | Dandelion Has a Bad Time, Good Person Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Touch-Starved Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion's Lute, it goes thru some shit, Language Barrier
for mermay in the @thepassifloradiscord
on ao3
Jaskier leans back on one hand in the grass, running his fingers through the blades as much as he can while still supporting his weight. He swings his feet out in the open air, tapping his heels back against the rock face of the cliff and gazing out at the undulating ocean, waves constantly being broken and reformed. He snorts. Doesn’t that sound familiar.
He’s a mile from the Pankratz estate, too exhausted to go any further. He should find an inn and rest for a few hours, at least, but the prospect of moving is too much. He doesn’t know why he’d thought this trip to Lettenhove would be any different. They never are, but Jaskier can’t help but have hope every time, it’s who he is. No more, he thinks. This was the last time.
He’s been a successful Oxenfurt-graduate bard for five years now, living out his dreams and traveling the Continent, performing songs he wrote himself and becoming semi-well known and loved for them. It’s nothing to scoff at, that’s for sure. He’d thought that this time, now that he’s an accomplished adult who’d put in the work and gotten real, tangible results, that coming home would be a good idea. That his parents had beckoned him home because they missed him, because they wanted to hear about his life and let him prove that his happiness meant something.
It would appear that no matter how popular Jaskier became, no matter how happy he was, his parents would never be satisfied. They would always be distant and mirthless, and they would always want the same thing. Come home, Julian, his mother’s words echo around him. Haven’t you satiated this ridiculous fantasy of yours by now?
Those cold-blooded assholes would never see it as a career, much less as something worthwhile. They had ordered him to stay the night, so that in the morning they could work things out as a family with fresh eyes. But Jaskier knew what that meant. It meant coercion and an arranged marriage to ensure heirs and boost their status and clerical work and finally agreeing to take over the estate when his father passed.
Leaving in the middle of the night was easier than every other time he’d had to convince himself inside. This time was the final straw, the fact that they would never support him finally solidified in his brain. He didn’t have a family anymore, he didn’t want one.
And so Jaskier had walked until his feet ached and his eyelids were too heavy to carry on. He’d sat down right here at least an hour ago and he hasn’t moved since. While it may contain a lot of painful memories for him, Lettenhove is beautiful. He loves it, truly. If things were different, Jaskier thinks he would have a home here. Somewhere to come back to between his travels, somewhere to recharge and meet with his real loved ones. But things aren’t different, and so this is all he will get for quite some time.
The sun is just beginning to rise over the horizon, its shape constantly molded by the waves it’s peaking over. He’d left just after the sun set, and he wonders how many of those hours he’d walked and how many he’s been sitting like this. He watches as the sun climbs higher, takes deep, steady breaths and lets all of the pain go in pieces. Those thoughts will come back later, and he will obsess and worry but no matter what all of that is behind him for good. The only things he needs are his rucksack, at his side, and his lute, in his hand. Jaskier leans forward and strums it absentmindedly as he watches the sunrise, his thoughts finally turning blissfully blank as red bleeds into oranges and pinks.
It’s been awhile since Jaskier has played just for the sake of it, not songwriting or practicing, just to relax. To have fun. His lute is his comfort right now, and it’s mostly a waiting game, something for him to do until he finally convinces himself that he needs to lay his bedroll out and go to sleep.
Perhaps, given that he walked all night instead of sleeping, it was unavoidable that his body would choose for him. Jaskier nods off, just slightly; his chin tips down toward his chest and his shoulders lose their tension, subsequently resulting in a loosened grip on his lute. There’s one thick moment where he enjoys the lapse, his body heavy and it feels good to give in. As soon as realizes what’s happening, however, he jerks himself up straight, flailing to keep his body from collapsing forward and into the ocean.
And it’s exactly that which is his literal downfall.
read the rest on ao3!
10 notes
·
View notes
So I found this audio and I immediately thought of Geraskier. It works for both of them at different points in their relationship.
Early days/ pre-relationship:
Jaskier, cleaning blood from Geralt’s hair and dressing his wounds: I’ll take care of you
Geralt, never taught gentleness: It’s rotten work
Jaskier, determined to show his Witcher love: not to me, not if it’s you.
When Jaskier is too old for the path:
Geralt, sitting at Jaskier’s bedside: I’ll take care of you.
Old!Jaskier, bitter he can’t follow his Witcher to the ends of the earth any longer and upset he’s holding him back: It’s rotten work
Geralt, to the bard he’s loved with all his heart for decades, who taught him beauty: not to me, not if it’s you.
I make myself cry.
10 notes
·
View notes