#jaskier talks geralt into a beach vacation | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

spilledbutter · 1 year

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Summary: The dynamic duo faces off against their first monster together. Geralt's feelings for Jaskier grow stronger, despite his best intentions.

Or: The monster-hunting AU no one asked for.

Jaskier/Geralt | Rated: T | WC: 4k | CW: mention of potential injury/death, cursing, sexual thoughts, monster description

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Read Chapter 1 on AO3 or here on Tumblr.

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Admittedly, Geralt might have gotten a little ahead of himself with the whole partner thing.

Geralt usually worked alone–for good reason. Having a partner meant having to take into consideration another person’s thoughts, feelings, wants, needs. It meant having someone constantly around, watching your every movement, making small talk. And in the case of his newly-acquired social media manager, it meant having to account for the other man’s refined ability to wander into any kind of trouble with nary a second thought.

They’d been delayed in Novigrad for a few days. Geralt had called Vesemir the morning after his less-than-fruitful search for the leviathan, telling him in no uncertain terms that he wasn’t going to wander the entire coast looking for something that wasn’t there. That he was headed back home (with Jaskier as a determined tag-a-long) and that the next time Vesemir got a tip, Lambert could be sent to the next province to investigate it.

Vesemir, for his part, essentially told him to shut the fuck up.

“Coastal towns always have something to hunt, Wolf. Don’t make the trip a waste of time,” his deep voice came through, tinny in the speaker of Geralt’s flip phone. “Find a nest of drowners–or a date, I don’t care. Just don’t drag your grumbling ass back here until you’ve done something to get out of your foul mood.” And with that, he’d hung up.

Geralt was less than pleased at being stuck–almost fuming, actually–but that certainly wasn’t new. He’d been more sullen than usual, not responding to Jaskier’s prodding attempts at conversation. He’d asked around at a few of the shops in town, attempting to make his presence known, but alas, there was no work to be had. It didn’t help that the weather had been absolutely scorching, the sun blazing overhead with a single-minded focus to make everyone miserable.

Jaskier, despite being just as affected by the weather as he was, was as bright and cheery as ever. He’d been tapping about on that phone of his for a couple of hours, muttering about algorithms and posting frequency and hashtags, whatever the fuck that meant. Geralt couldn’t bring himself to ask and Jaskier hadn’t bothered to share.

After their conversation in the diner, Jaskier had set up their “base of operations,'' as he’d called it, in one of the many air-conditioned beachside cafes in town. Shani’s was busy today, full of tourists trying to escape the heat, but the blissful relief of the A/C was worth the crowd. Luckily enough, Jaskier knew the owner, so they always had a table–near enough to an exit for a quick escape, if necessary, but in a secluded enough corner they weren’t prone to draw attention.

Jaskier seemed intent on taking their unintended vacation for what it was after Geralt had haltingly told him about the call to Vesemir. He was happy enough to take a break from plotting the witcher’s rise to internet fame, keen on the opportunity to drag more information out of Geralt. He also wasn’t cowed by Geralt’s surliness in the slightest, brazenly calling him a grumpy brute and telling him he needed to learn how to fucking relax.

“I know what we need, Geralt! Let’s go down to the beach,” Jaskier suggested optimistically, fanning himself with one of the cafe’s menus.

Geralt was already grumbling before he finished his sentence. “Don’t see any reason to do that. No contracts, ungodly crowds, sand.”

Geralt crossed his arms, a scowl twisting his lips. He hated sand. Absolutely nothing worse than sand in his boots. He avoided beaches like the plague, especially if there wasn’t anything to kill. He’d named only three reasons they shouldn’t, but really, the list could’ve gone on and on.

Geralt refused to acknowledge that he was practically pouting. Or the fact that Jaskier might be right about him needing to take a break.

Jaskier, ever-fearless despite having known Geralt for the span of only a week, clapped him on the back. A lesser man would never dare. Geralt couldn’t help but admire him for that.

“Come now, Geralt! You’re forgetting the positives: refreshingly cool water, pleasant sea breeze, swimming, doing something with your free time that doesn’t involve monsters,” he sing-songed, taking a loud slurp of his iced coffee. “Sounds like a good time to me. Plus, we can get to know each other better!”

Those bright blues shone with an eagerness Geralt couldn’t help but be drawn into, scowl smoothing into a small frown. “Hm. Seems like a waste of time if you ask me.”

Jaskier gasped, pressing a hand to his chest. Geralt took the opportunity to examine what he was wearing. It was a light blue, short-sleeved button-up today, the tight-fitting shirt showing off Jaskier’s surprisingly well-toned torso. Geralt thought it looked rather nice on him, bringing out shades of cerulean in his eyes that weren’t unlike the cloudless sky outside.

Geralt drummed his fingers on the table, feeling an anxious energy that was unlike him, but that seemed ever-present in the few short days he’d known the other man.

“Geralt, you wound me! I would love nothing more than to get to know you better, and here you are, shooting me down at every turn! My poor heart can’t take it!” With that, Jaskier fell dramatically back into his chair, arm thrown across his eyes. He peeked over at his companion in an attempt to see if his performance was having its intended effect.

Geralt couldn’t help the twitch of his lips, small as it might be. Jaskier grinned, seeing his opening.

“Aha! You can’t fool me, Witcher, I see right through you! Make a fool of a humble musician-slash-tour guide, surely he’ll leave you to your ill-tempered devices,” Jaskier ranted, slamming his cup on the table.

“But this will not stand! The weather is blazing, I am practically a puddle before you, and you need a break! We’re going to the beach and that’s that. What say you?”

Geralt sighed, making a great show of being put upon but actually feeling rather pleased at the other man’s determination to include him. “I guess I’ll come, if only to make sure you don’t trip into the ocean and drown. You can drop the act.”

Jaskier spluttered, pointing an indignant finger at Geralt, but Geralt was already striding out the door, hiding his smirk as he went.

—

The walk down to the beach was filled with Jaskier’s chatter, once he’d gotten over his minor irritation.

(Over the last several days, he’d been peppering Geralt with questions about the family business, such as:

“What’s the name of your business, Geralt? I don’t think I’ve asked yet.”

“Wolfe Brothers Extermination Company.”

Jaskier hmmed, considering. “That makes it sound like you’re hunting termites rather than drowners, but, okay, I’ll bite.”)

Their conversation today was more of the same.

They arrived at a beach surprisingly less crowded than Geralt thought it would be, the waves lapping gently against the shore. The caw of seagulls overhead and the sounds of the pier in the distance were oddly soothing. Geralt felt himself relax, if only a bit.

Even Geralt had to admit it was hot, though, the collar of his lightweight black armor clinging uncomfortably to his neck. He felt droplets of sweat beading on his brow and swiped a hand over his face in frustration. A dip in the water does sound nice… Having no intention to let his guard down, however, Geralt kept his thoughts to himself.

Jaskier was not of the same mindset, huffing loudly as he brushed his sweaty bangs out of his eyes. “It’s hotter than Melitele’s sweet ass today, I can’t stand it.”

Jaskier began unbuttoning his shirt, kicking off his socks and shoes simultaneously. He sighed with pleasure once he buried his toes in the warm sand, the cool sea breeze ruffling his hair.

Geralt felt himself becoming hotter by the second, but couldn’t blame it on the weather this time. His eyes were drawn to each fresh inch of skin that was unveiled, to the line of hair that started at Jaskier’s chest and trailed down his stomach. He felt his ears burn, swallowing against the thought that the other man looked rather biteable, like something he’d love to sink his teeth into. Geralt forced himself to look away, turning back to the water as he cleared his throat.

Jaskier didn’t seem to notice his predicament and was prattling on. “Really, Geralt, I don’t know how you do it wearing all that black, I’d simply die–oh.” Jaskier paused, ears perking.

A voice, haunting as it was enchanting, echoed to them across the sand. Their attention snapped towards the source, seeing a pair of beautiful young women out in the water. They were floating in the surf a ways down the beach, near a rocky outcropping where the tidal pools lay. Almost like they’d been singing specifically to them, one of the women waved, smiling when she saw she’d caught their attention. Geralt’s eyes narrowed, a niggling suspicion scratching at the back of his brain.

“Well, aren’t they a sight for sore eyes, Geralt.” Jaskier was practically enthralled, tugging at Geralt’s wrist, not a suspicious bone in his body.

Jaskier looked over at him, rolling his eyes when he saw the look on his face. “Come now, dearest. I don’t know what you do in your free time, but this can’t be the first time a pretty lady has flirted with you. Not when you look like that.”

Geralt wasn’t quite sure what he meant by that, but it didn’t really matter, anyway. He stood his ground, shaking his head. He was the monster expert of the two of them and something about this didn’t feel right. “Don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“And why ever not? Your medallion isn’t going off, is it? It’s not like they’re monsters, then, right?”

It was true, Geralt’s medallion hadn’t made a peep all day. He couldn’t argue that, but frowned nonetheless.

Jaskier looked back at him, mouth quirked up in a lopsided smile as he continued. “So let’s join them, yeah? I can use this for the TikTok outtakes! And at the very least, we can get you away from the crowds you hate so much.”

Jaskier seemed to sense Geralt’s lasting hesitation, because he grabbed his hand, beginning to pull him along. Geralt felt a flutter in his belly at the thought of Jaskier worried over his own comfort, but pushed the feeling aside. Something felt off about those women, despite the fact that there hadn’t been any contracts in town. My medallion isn’t going off, but it can't hurt to check…

Together, they strode down the beach. Geralt gave himself a mental shrug, telling himself Jaskier might be right. If it wasn’t anything to worry about, perhaps the distraction of a pretty woman would pull his mind from thoughts about how nicely Jaskier’s swim shorts fit him, the firm planes of his chest…

The women were giggling, now, splashing about in the water. Their smiles grew when they saw they’d successfully captured their interest, that they were heading toward them. The one singing turned her full focus on them, now. Although she never raised her voice, the pitch of her singing changed, seeming more intense, more alluring. Geralt felt a small tug deep in his belly, urging him closer.

“Oh wow,” Jaskier gaped, “She’s rather good–despite it being a sea shanty of all things, a bit on the nose, really, but–” Jaskier fumbled to pull his phone out to record, seemingly not noticing the way his feet had begun to to move towards the water.

Geralt paused, now, alarm bells ringing in his head. He pulled Jaskier to a stop with a firm tug on the hand still holding his. “Jaskier. Wait.”

Jaskier didn’t even look at him, moving to tug his arm free of Geralt’s hold. He suddenly sounded dazed, drugged even, as he walked into the shallow water sloshing at their ankles. “Come on, Geralt, they’re just pretty women. Don’t worry, I have enough charm for us both…”

The women’s faces morphed as their once-lovely smiles spread ever-larger; their grins turning predatory and sharklike, with entirely too many teeth to be human. Belatedly, Geralt’s medallion started to hum against his chest. Bit fucking late for that, isn’t it.

As Geralt watched, his suspicions confirmed, the women’s backs turned crooked, spikes growing out of their spines. Their hands turned into deadly claws, with razor-sharp talons at least a foot long. Slowly, with an almost serpentine grace, they rose out of the water on scale-covered tails. Wings as large as the sails of a ship beat anxiously behind them as the creatures made to take off, their prey now within easy reach.

Shit. Sirens.

“Jaskier! Watch out!”

In a flash, Geralt had shoved Jaskier behind him, as out of the way as he could be on the open expanse of a beach. He drew his crossbow, thankfully strapped to his back, and fired at the one still singing, still holding Jaskier under her thrall. She shrieked in outrage, a great roar that reverberated against the rocky cliffs behind them. Geralt winced, trying his best to cover his ears as he was briefly stunned.

Jaskier finally blinked out of his trance, spell broken. “Geralt? What happ–”

Jaskier froze, finally noticing the predicament they were in. He yelped, almost as loud as the sirens, in absolute terror. “Geralt, Geralt, what the everloving fuck is that, oh gods–”

Geralt retained a defensive position in front of him, gritting his teeth, as a trickle of blood dripped out of his ear. “Sirens. I need you to take cover.” Jaskier remained motionless, stuck where he’d fallen on his ass in the sand when Geralt had shoved him back. “Now, Jaskier!”

Jaskier snapped out of it, finally scrambling backward until he found refuge behind a large boulder. Geralt felt something inside him unclench, slightly, now that he didn’t have to worry about him.

He shook out his shoulders, refocusing his attention on the fight in front of him. The beasts had risen to their full height now, wings flapping with enough force to create waves in the previously-calm waters. There were two of them, but sirens almost always fought in packs of three or more. He warily searched the skies, looking for a third, but found nothing. Down the beach, he could hear distant screams as people finally noticed the commotion and ran for cover.

The beasts screeched at him, their previously harmonious voices now nauseating as they circled overhead. One swooped down, aiming to strike him with her mighty claws, but he tucked and rolled out of the way in the nick of time. Just as she was about to fly away and regroup, he drew his silver sword, slashing a gaping hole in her wing, and she fell with a great crash onto the beach.

Her sister cried out behind her, diving down to protect her, but Geralt launched a crossbow bolt with his other hand, hitting the beast right in the heart as she plunged towards him. She, too, fell, leaving Geralt to deal the killing blow to the one still lying wounded in the sand.

—

Geralt took a moment to catch his breath once he was sure both beasts were dead. He glanced around, making sure Jaskier was still safely behind the boulder, but felt his heart plummet in fear as the other man was nowhere to be found.

“Jaskier? Jaskier!”

“I’m over here, Geralt!”

Geralt looked up, almost frantic in his worry, but found the other man had snuck up the cliffs during the fight. He would have been grateful Jaskier took himself further out of harm’s way, if it wasn’t for the cell phone he currently had out, obviously filming.

He was furious.

“Geralt, that was… I don’t have words for it, that was amazing! The way you swung your sword around, the way you took them out, and was that a fucking crossbow? I honestly can’t believe it, this is going to make such a good post-”

Jaskier was practically giddy as he rambled on, looking at the footage he’d obtained so intently that he didn’t notice Geralt had joined him on the cliffs until it was too late.

Geralt knocked the phone out of Jaskier’s hand, glaring murderously at him, practically growling. “You think this is a game?! You could have died, you damned idiot!”

Jaskier chuckled nervously, finally seeming to realize how upset Geralt was. He held his hands up to show he meant no harm. “I’m sorry–I know it was dangerous, I’m sorry, but how am I supposed to fulfill my end of the bargain if–”

“Fuck the bargain! I know what we talked about, but at the first sign of actual danger, you need to run!” Geralt was yelling, he knew he was, but he just couldn’t stop himself.

“Those things won’t think twice about killing you, and none of those fools on the internet will care if your pretty head rolls from your shoulders!” Geralt was shaking, adrenaline pumping through his veins.

He couldn’t deny the emotion he was feeling at that moment–fear–for the man in front of him. Fear that his bright light would be snuffed out on some idiotic quest for glory and Instagram followers.

Jaskier stood in front of him, shoulders sagging and eyebrows furrowed. He looked truly remorseful, eyes darting quickly between Geralt’s tense shoulders, his tight mouth, his trembling hands. “I’m sorry, Geralt. Hey. Look at me,” he murmured, taking a step closer.

Jaskier hesitated for all of a moment before he rested a hand on Geralt’s arm. He rubbed down it in a soothing gesture until he reached his wrist. He rubbed his thumb softly over the skin there, waiting until Geralt met his eyes.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to–worry you. I’m sorry, fuck. I know I can get carried away.” Jaskier sighed, running his other hand through his hair in an all-too familiar gesture.

Geralt felt a wave of fondness come over him, and with it some of the fear faded. He moved to clasp Jaskier’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze before he let go completely. “I know. But I need to know that you’re going to listen to me. When I tell you something, you have to listen, for your own safety. If you can’t promise me that, this can’t go any further.”

Geralt was deadly serious, despite his fool heart pounding in his chest, urging him to take the words back. His yellow-gold eyes stared unflinchingly into Jaskier’s, daring the other man to lie to him.

Jaskier’s face was set with a matching degree of uncharacteristic seriousness. He gazed unblinkingly into Geralt’s eyes for a moment, two. “I promise, Geralt. It won’t happen again.”

Geralt nodded, accepting that as the truth. It was only another moment before the embarrassment from his reaction finally began to creep in, leaving an uncomfortably vulnerable feeling behind that had him ready to crawl out of his skin.

Oh shit, he thought, his ears burning again. Oh gods, I freaked the fuck out. He knows, there’s no way he doesn’t know about this stupid little...

He turned his eyes back to Jaskier almost hesitantly, anxious for what he might find on the other man’s face. When he looked into those cornflower blues, he saw only acceptance, fondness, and–and something else he didn’t yet have a name for. But ultimately, Jaskier’s handsome face was soft with understanding, and Geralt felt an ache in his gut so deeply he thought he might burst.

Jaskier seemed to realize Geralt couldn’t take any more emotional turmoil at the moment, so he let it lie, slipping his trademark cheeky grin back on with a flourish. “You know, I know you hate me for it, but I really did get the best footage. You will not believe what you looked like down there.”

Jaskier bent to grab his phone from the sand, intending to show Geralt, at the same time an almighty howl tore through the air. It felt like seconds passed in minutes, Geralt watching in slow motion as a blur flew right into Jaskier, as Jaskier was knocked off the cliff. Jaskier’s eyes met Geralt’s just before he fell, and once time sped up, Geralt was sent into a wave of panic once again.

His training kicked in despite the need to rush to Jaskier’s side. This time, he swung without looking, silver sword still in hand, at the retreating tail of the third siren. Fuck, Geralt, you godsdamned idiot. You knew there’d be another one, why’d you turn your back…!

The creature cried out, Geralt’s aim having struck true. Thick, green blood dripped sluggishly from the wound as the creature spun on a hairpin to swipe at Geralt again. This time, there were no surprises, and Geralt whipped out his crossbow with deadly efficiency to shoot the beast out of the sky.

It fell, tumbling down the cliffs with a crash, before finally striking the ground at the bottom with a thud that shook the beach around him. Geralt heard the death-cry, weak as it was, before all was silent.

Heart pounding as he sank to his knees, he couldn’t bring himself to move to the edge of the cliff, terrified that he’d see Jaskier’s body crumpled next to the beast on the ground below.

No, no no no, he can’t be dead. We only just met, I haven’t gotten a chance to–

“Ger–lt,” the cry came faintly, from just beyond the edge where Jaskier had fallen. Eyes flying open, he stumbled forward, searching for the source of the voice.

Jaskier lay on a ledge just below him, having not made it all the way to the bottom of the cliff face. He looked small, lying there, but a quick, assessing glance told Geralt none of his limbs were broken. Geralt scrambled down to him without hesitation, rocks digging sharply into his palms, but he hardly noticed in his rush to get to the other man.

“Jaskier? Jaskier, are you hurt? We’ll get you out of here, don’t worry, you—”

A sound, at first no more than a wheeze, but then with increasing strength, came from the man below him. Jaskier was laughing.

Geralt squinted, tone turning flat as he registered the sound of the other man’s breathless chuckles. “What the fuck is funny right now, Jaskier, I swear to fuck—”

Jaskier’s laughter grew stronger, tinkling like bells, and Geralt fought against that warm tingling in his belly again. “Would you,” Jaskier snickered, struggling to catch his breath, “Would you believe I got that on camera, too?”

Geralt froze, staring down at Jaskier in absolute disbelief. He was sure he must look like a fucking idiot, mouth gaping open as it was, but he couldn’t help himself. All of the panic and fear and anger and desperation flowed through him like the tides below–but on top of all of that was relief, sweet and pure. He suddenly felt fucking exhausted.

Eventually, he snapped his mouth shut and stood up.

Geralt moved away without looking back, intending to go back to the beasts to collect what ingredients he could. The relief was still there, coursing through his veins like lightning. He grunted in annoyance. “You can climb up on your own, then. You’re clearly fine.”

“What do you–Geralt, wait! Hey!!”

Shaking his head, Geralt climbed back up the cliff, leaving Jaskier sputtering behind him.

Yeah, he thought, I definitely got ahead of myself with the partner thing.

(2/?)

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dapandapod · 3 years

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Hollow pt 4

It is finally here. After a year, the last chapter of Hollow is here. Prompted by my darling shiny @chaotic-fae-queen and a careful beta read by wonderful @kuripon (both are amazing writers, go check them out!) and Im so happy for them both!

Thank you all for following me through this. I hope you like this last chapter 💖

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Ao3

He is anger and hurt and shuddering breaths and thunder and sadness.

It trembles through him, when Jaskier looks at him with no recognition. Geralt knew, he knew it would happen and still it hurts. It was wise to let Yennefer approach first as he is not sure he would have been able to do it again. If the bard feels any fear, the wind has swept the scent of it away.

Jaskier leads them towards a little hut a short walk from the beach. It is a nice hut, walls tightly fitted and barely letting any of the raging wind inside. The inside is as modest as the outside; there is a bed, a fireplace and a small bookcase. The lute is leaning against the wall in the far corner of the room, seemingly untouched. A table stands in the middle of the room with two chairs. Of course.

Yennefer sits down while Jaskier bustles around to start a pot of tea, and Geralt leans against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.

“May I offer you anything? I didn’t bring much but I'm sure I still have biscuits somewhere.”

Geralt ignores him, eyes locking on a familiar notebook on the bed. It is a bit worse for wear than last he saw it, the pages worn with use. Jaskier always brought that with him, and that seems to be true still.

“So, Gerald was it?” Jaskier says, looking through cabinets and drawers in his hunt for biscuits. “Have you been around these parts before?” Smalltalk. Jaskier is making smalltalk.

Geralt nods silently, still avoiding to look at the bard. He can hear the bard turn to look for a reply, so he nods again, staring holes into the notes.

“Jaskier, would you please sit down with me for a moment?” Yennefer finally asks, snapping Jaskier out of his hosting duties. When Yennefer asks like that, it is better to listen.

“There is something I need to tell you, and I need you to listen and tell me if you recall anything.”

Geralt chances a look at Jaskier, who is swallowing hard and darts a look back at Geralt. Fuck. He aches inside, and he looks away again with a frown.

“What do you remember from before you came to Oxenfurt?” Yennefer asks.

“I- uh…” Jaskier frowns, looking down at the table. “I'm not sure. I remember I hired someone to bring me there, but I can’t recall his name anymore. I think I was attacked on the road, because I have a scar on my side.” As Jaskier talks, he idly touches the side where the scar hides.

Yennefer nods and then looks pointedly at Geralt.

“I took you to Oxenfurt,” Geralt grumbles out. “And it was because of me you were hurt.”

“Geralt!” Yennefer protests, but it’s the truth. Geralt's truth.

“You did? But I don’t recognize you at all!” Jaskier says and Geralt just wants to leave.

“Alright, we will do this another way.” Yennefer sighs, clearly done with Geralt already. “Jaskier, memories were taken from you. Are being taken from you. You and Geralt spent years together, and something is making you forget him.” Jaskier frowns at that, then puts his face in his hands.

A soft moan comes from him, as if he were in pain.

“Do you know what you have forgotten, good and bad, or do you wish to carry on? I need to know if you want to remember.” She asks, and puts a hand on his shoulder. “I won’t force it on you. You have a choice.” Yennefer shoots Geralt a glare as she says this.

The seconds tick by, and Geralt is all nerves.

On one hand, he desperately wants Jaskier safe. On the other hand, he desperately wishes to have him close. They don’t go well together, sadly.

“I think I need to know.” Jaskier finally says, and Geralt feels like someone has punched him in the chest. “But I don’t think I can do it today. It is a lot to take in.”

Yennefer and Geralt return to the hut in the morning. The skies have cleared up and the gulls are circling high above them and diving into the wild sea. Jaskier sits outside his door, leaning back against the dirt wall, chewing on a piece of straw. His eyes are closed, head tilted up towards the sun. The breeze is warm and brings a salty tang with it. When they come closer, Jaskier startles.

“Yennefer! I'm so glad to see you! It’s been so long!” He bounces up, arms wide like he is going in for a hug. He doesn’t, thankfully, so Yennefer doesn’t have to do something cruel. It doesn’t bode well that he doesn’t remember yesterday, but at least they are about to do something about it.

Then Jaskier's eyes snag on the witcher behind her, and his eyes widen comically.

“Bringing a bodyguard while visiting little ol' me?” His eyes rake Geralt up and down. Not a modest bone in that one.

“He will be staying outside,” She says with a smirk over her shoulder and Geralt scowls. “Do you have chamomile tea?”

She stalks into his hut without waiting, sitting down in the same chair as yesterday. Jaskier comes inside after her, giving one last look at Geralt before he closes the door, and then he starts the same routine as yesterday, looking for herbs and kettles.

“It really is such a great coincidence to meet you today, Yennefer,” He tells her, banging the same cabinets and drawers. “There is something I need to ask you.”

He puts the water on, takes out mugs for them and finally, finally sits down. There is a short silence, only disturbed by the sound of waves and seabirds from the outside. Yennefer is sure Geralt is listening to every word they say through the door.

“I think,.” Jaskier begins, clutching his empty cup in his hands,” I think there is something wrong with me.” He looks absolutely miserable, twirling the cup back and forth.

“What makes you think that?” She asks, knowing full well.

“I have a notebook,” Jaskier says quietly, like a confession. “It is filled with my handwriting, but I don’t remember a thing.”

Oh.

“Yennefer. I think I was in love.”

Oh fuck.

“May I see it?” She asks. She doesn’t know why she asks, but it is too late now. Jaskier hesitates for a moment, then he stands up, checks on the pot above the fire, and fetches a collection of notes that Geralt was trying to stare to death yesterday.

That explains a thing or two.

“I can’t for the life of me figure out why I don’t remember them. And everything in here is just hints, the shapes of secrets,” he says as Yennefer looks through the worn pages. It’s beautiful and rough, and just as he said, shapes. But Yennefer sees Geralt in them, and he sees the feelings Jaskier talks about.

“I might know what is wrong with you,” she says, closing the book and pushing it over the table. Jaskier takes it and strokes it’s cover lovingly. “But I need to do something to be certain. Jaskier, are you sure you want to know? Because there is so much pain in your past.”

Jaskier takes a moment, thinking it over. When he looks at her again, he looks troubled.

“It feels like someone is raking through my mind, and there are so many things I just can’t wrap my head around.” Jaskier says, looking down at the table. “It is eating me up inside, carving and emptying me out. I need to know.”

The same reply as yesterday then. Good. She can work with that.

Yennefer is strong. Incredibly powerful. Julian can’t wield magic, but he feels the vibrations of it in his chest, in his mind.

“You have a powerful curse on you,” she tells him, sweat forming on her forehead. She makes no attempt to wipe it away, only trying to force her breathing into a more steady rhythm. “It is going to be a bit tricky undo. I need to find what it is centered around.”

The vibrations stop, and he feels strangely empty when it’s gone.

“How?” Julian asks, and Yennefer smirks. She is indeed terrifying when she does that.

“I'm going to ask intrusive questions and you are going to answer them honestly.”

And she does. She asks about everything and nothing. When she asks him about his lute, he is surprised. He has a lute? Since when? Then he looks around the small hut and sees it standing in a corner. Not for the first time, he feels fear’s icy fingers grip around him.

Then she asks him about the songs, the poems, if he remembers where it all comes from. He finds he cannot answer.

“I have a theory,” Yennefer finally says, sipping her tea. “It is a little insulting if it is true, but nonetheless.”

“Let's hear it,” Julian replies, will he finally, finally know what’s happening to him.

“I think the curse makes you forget what you love most.”

Julian gapes. A million things run through his mind. A million things, his minds fingers grasping after them as they slip away.

“I can break it, but it will take some work. Do you want that?” She looks at him, he feels her in his head. He knows she has found his answer, but he says it anyway.

“Yes.”

Geralt hears bits and pieces from the conversation going on inside. He has taken the chair that Jaskier vacated, the sun warming his face in the breeze. Geralt tries not to listen in. Nothing good would come from hearing their conversation.

He focuses on the sea instead. On the gulls cry, on the roar of the waves, on the familiar lull of Jaskiers voice. It is peaceful. Quiet. If it wasn’t for the storm inside him, he would have been content.

Jaskier's eyes on him today, assessing him like he would a stranger in a tavern, it was… sad. Geralt misses his friend. And fears for him too. The scar that already mars his body, the curse, just being with Geralt puts him in danger.

What will happen next? When Jaskier remembers? What if he can’t remember, if Yennefer can’t break it? Geralt is not sure which is worse, but being forgotten hurts. There are many ways to lose a friend. But it stings even now, as he knows that the word friend is not enough. Not near enough.

Geralt has many friends. Many people he cherishes. But with Jaskier, it’s bigger. What he feels when he looks at him, it’s… frightening. He knows the word for it. It is waiting on the tip of his tongue, hidden behind firmly shut lips. The reason he needs to protect Jaskier.

Geralt falls into meditation easily. Their voices through the wall become a backdrop, his mind following the clouds instead of the raging sea. It soothes him to hear Jaskier again. Yennefer is right. It is not his decision to make.

Shame and fear drove him to this.

Geralt is selfish, he knows.

His medallion vibrates, a flash of light and the smell of sulfur breaks him out of meditation.

In the blink of an eye, Geralt is on his feet, sword in hand and heart in his throat. He sees no threat, senses no one else in the area, and slowly straightens again. Right.

So it’s done then.

This is when Jaskier leaves him, memories intact.

Silence reins inside the hut. Geralt doesn’t dare break it. He sits back down, leaning his head back against the wall. He closes his eyes and feels every emotion that rushes through him. All the what-ifs, all the if-nots.

Maybe Geralt should leave. He could leave, right now, and Jaskier wouldn’t get hurt because of him again.

Jaskier comes out of the hut, Yennefer close behind him. Geralt turns his head and looks at them, but says nothing.

Yennefer puts a hand on Jaskier's arm, squeezing it and smiling. Jaskier stands with his back turned, but Geralt thinks he is smiling too.

“I’ll be in town if you need me,” Yennefer says quietly. She turns, opens a portal, and then she is gone.

Once again silence sits between them, thick and heavy.

When Jaskier turns, he is frowning.

For a long moment, they just look at each other. Geralt feels locked in place, the roar of his emotions keeping him firmly stuck.

“Why?” Jaskier asks finally. He looks angry, hurt, disappointed.

“Because I can’t lose you,” Geralt says before he can stop himself. It is the truth anyway.

“So you let me forget?”

“To keep you safe.”

“Geralt. Do you know what the curse was?” Jaskier asks, and Geralt shakes his head. Jaskier presses his lips together into a thin line, another flash of anger behind those blue eyes.

“It made me forget what I love the most. Who I love the most.”

Geralt did….not expect that.

“Vital parts of me, gone. Do you know what it’s like to feel hollow inside, Geralt? To have a piece of yourself so thoroughly missing?” Jaskier's voice is calm, and Geralt can’t stand it.

Geralt swallows thickly and stands up, walking closer to Jaskier.

With one hand he grips Jaskier's chin and angles it up so that they look at each other.

“I do.” Geralt confesses. He is pain and fear and hurt and shuddering breaths and thunder and sadness.

It tears through him, and he lets himself feel it, show it, and Jaskier watches it all.

Jaskier loves him.

Jaskier forgot him.

Geralt let him.

“Why did you let me go?” Jaskier whispers, his own hurt and sadness and shuddering breaths falling from his lips. His hand comes up to wrap around Geralt's wrist, his eyes searching for the something hiding on the tip of Geralt's tongue.

“Because I… Because I love you,” Geralt says quietly, and the something builds. Builds and builds in his chest, so big that he can barely breathe. Geralt lets his other hand come up and cup Jaskier's cheek.

They are standing close together, the wind tearing at their clothes, but they are holding on to each other so tightly.

“Because I can’t stand to see you hurt, not because of someone like me.”

“Geralt-”

“Please let me say this. I think I need to tell you this.”

Jaskier nods and shuts his mouth, his hand on Geralt's wrist warm and grounding, keeping him steady.

“I am selfish, Jaskier.” It feels so good to say his name again. “The only way for me to let you go, I-”

He falters. It is hard to speak. Once again he admires Jaskiers ability to express himself.

“To forget me, to let you go this way was the safest way I knew how. It hurt me, but I could live with that pain if it meant that you are safe.”

Anger and hurt flashes in his eyes again.

“Geralt. She tooks my memories, yes, she made me forget all I love, all that brings me joy. Not just you. I forgot my name. My lute. My songs. My friends. One after another, they all faded away. Do you know how terrifying that is?”

With his words, Geralt grows cold. He didn’t realize it was so bad.

Let it hurt you like it hurt me.

It made perfect sense now. The spell was aimed at him, not Jaskier. And Jaskier has so much love in him.

“And I kept you from those things.” Geralt realizes with a shaky whisper. “I thought I could keep you safe, but I hurt you. Again. I don’t know how to keep you safe.” Jaskier smiles sadly at him and pushes their foreheads together.

“Idiot witcher,” He says, and Geralt closes his eyes. “Life isn’t safe. I am very angry with you for leaving me, Geralt. But I am incredibly happy you came back for me.”

“I almost didn’t.” Geralt confesses with a whisper, because he can’t seem to stop himself from hurting either of them. “I was so convinced that you were safer without me.”

“I probably would be,” Jaskier agrees, and the confirmation rips through him, sharper than any blade. “And you will never stop believing that. But you don’t get to make that choice for me. That choice is mine.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I think that is only the third time in my life I have heard you apologise,” Jaskier says, and Geralt can hear the teasing smile in his voice.

“I have something I need to say too, but I think you already know by now.”

Geralt swallows hard again, a roaring need rising in his chest.

“Would you look at me, Geralt?” Jaskier whispers, and he does. Their eyes lock, inches from each other, and Jaskier's grip on his wrist tightens. His eyes are so incredibly blue.

“I love you,” Jaskier tells him, smiling sadly again.

No, that sad smile is not allowed.

Geralt leans forward that last inch, tilting his head, closing that terrible distance.

It is soft and a little awkward. Jaskier kisses him back, lips dry and clinging to each other, but Geralt wants nothing else.

“Don’t ever let me forget again.” Jaskier whispers against his lips.

Geralt can do nothing but promise.

#memory loss #geraskier #light angst #the witcher #geralt x jaskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #julian alfred pankratz #dapanda writes #jaskier the bard #yennefer of vengerberg #getting together #difficult conversations

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actionnerdgamerlove · 3 years

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Do You Want Me Now - Chapter 25: Beach Week, Part One

Find it on AO3

Many, many thanks to @laughingatlivedragons for her help with this chapter - Geralt's past vacations couldn't have happened without you, my love!

“Hey Geralt,” Jaskier called from the living room, “Are you a beach person?”

She heard him hum as he came out of the upstairs bathroom. She’d heard the shower shut off, and was waiting for him at the foot of the stairs.

“This isn’t a show, Jask,” Geralt growled (without any real heat in it) as he walked down the stairs, shirtless, toweling off his hair. “Maybe I should start selling tickets,” he rolled his eyes as he said it, but he was secretly delighted. Anytime Jaskier was home and able to catch him showering, she’d wait for him to come out, just to see him without a shirt on. (She usually waited downstairs in the living room, or the kitchen; she didn’t just hover outside of the bathroom.) She never said anything; just looked at him – and it was always the same look. She looked at him like he was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. No one had ever looked at Geralt like that before; not even when he was married.

“I mean, I do pay rent; is this not an amenity that’s included?” Larkin laughed, but then turned serious. “Geralt, for real though, if I’m making you uncomfortable, say the word, and it won’t happen again.”

“It’s fine,” he said while rolling his eyes, fondly. “I just – I figured the novelty would have worn off after six plus months, y’know?”

“NOPE! The effect of your physical beauty is just too compelling; I am powerless to resist.” Jask threw her hand over her forehead dramatically, leaning back.

“So, before we got sidetracked with your weird fascination with me,” the teasing note in Geralt’s voice made Larkin beam. “What’d you ask me?” he ended by throwing his towel over her head, enjoying the squawk and sputtering noises coming from under the towel. It had taken him a while to get used to the fact that Larkin just…rolled with stuff like that. He watched her pull the towel off her head, then point upstairs, then downstairs, asking him if he wanted it back in the bathroom, or down in the laundry. Geralt pointed upstairs; he’d just gotten it out. She took the stairs two at a time, and presumably hung it up on his hook in the bathroom.

Huh, he thought. Geralt wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he draped her in his towel, but return towel service was not it.

Larkin noticed the bewildered look on his face when she came back downstairs. “’Tis but a small price to pay, for the simple joy of letting me ogle you,”

“You’re weird,” he told her. Because she was. But he really liked it.

“Yep!” Larkin walked over to the couch and sat down, pulling out her phone. “Oh, so. Do you like the beach? Are you a beach person?”

Geralt felt like this was a trick question. “Why?” he asked, suspicious.

“Why do I get the feeling you think I’m going to try to do something mean, Geralt? Relax, sir. A friend of mine just said I could use her beach house for the summer, that’s all. I wanted to know if you wanted to go sometime.”

This has to be a trick, he thought. Who just doesn’tuse a beach house during the summer?

“Why isn’t she gonna use it?”

“She’s going on tour, she won’t be around. Shame, too, she’s a lot of fun.”

“Who is it?” Geralt asked, still skeptical.

“Taylor Swift,” Larkin said, like it was NBD.

Fucking WHAT.

*****

[White Wolf 6:30 PM]: Taylor Swift is lending Jask her beach house for the summer and wanted to know if I wanted to go with her.

[Eskel 6:30 PM]: Wait a minute. Taylor Swift wanted to know if you wanted to go with Jask, or Jask wanted to know if you wanted to go with Jask?

[White Wolf 6:31 PM]: Jask wanted to know if I wanted to go.

[Lambert 6:32 PM]: WAIT BACKUP. TAYLOR SWIFT? This is a joke, right?

[White Wolf 6:33 PM]: No joke, I made Jask show me the texts. Jask has a bunch of photos of the two of them together, apparently Jask stayed there for like a month last summer, before we met.

[Lambert 6:34 PM]: OH MY GOD, SHE DID. She said she was staying at a friend’s! She never said it was fucking Taylor Swift!

[White Wolf 6:34 PM]: Question still stands.

[Lambert 6:35 PM]: What was the question? Is there a question? You’re going, right? Is that the question? Do you not want to go? Why wouldn’t you go?

[Eskel 6:35 PM]: Seriously, Geralt – why wouldn’t you go?

[White Wolf 6:36 PM]: What’re we gonna do?

[Eskel 6:36 PM]: What do you do here?

[White Wolf 6:37 PM]: Nothing. Hangout. Go running. Cook. Watch movies.

[Lambert 6:38 PM]: I still can’t see you being ‘chill’, she is a literal miracle worker. Anyhoo. Do all that. At the BEACH.

[Eskel 6:39 PM]: Yes. Please go. Jas is asking you to go on a vacation, Ger. When was the last time you went on a vacation?

[White Wolf 6:40 PM]: Yen.

[Lambert 6:40 PM]: DEAR GOD PLEASE GO. I guarantee that Jas does vacations VERY differently. There won’t be an agenda every day. I promise.

*****

Geralt’s last vacation had been…intense. He and Yennefer had gone to Amsterdam for two weeks and to Geralt it had been…a LOT. Cities weren’t necessarily his favorite place in general, but throw in almost a million inhabitants, drugs and hookers EVERYWHERE, the waterworks, a literal shitton of bicycles and the mix of posh and historic – there was NOTHIING relaxing about that vacation.

It wasn’t a vacation, it was a trip. Lambert wasn’t exaggerating – Yen had actually come up with a written agenda every day, thinking it would appeal to the control freak in Geralt.

It did not. It actually made Geralt even more anxious, because it made him feel like there was a scheduled timetable they had to keep. And when Yen would dawdle, and throw off the timing of the agenda-

You can see how this did not appeal to Geralt AT ALL.

In general, his marriage to Yennefer had been intense on a level that was unsustainable for them both (hence the divorce) and he knew, he knew Jaskier was nothing like Yen, and would therefore probably vacation very differently.

But he was still kind of freaking out about it.

*****

Larkin could tell something was bothering her beloved Wolf. She’d asked him about going to the beach, and he’d just…avoided the question. That…was not Geralt’s style, AT ALL. She’d mentioned it to Lauren, her therapist, and Lauren had suggested that perhaps Geralt had had a bad vacation experience, once upon a time.

Larkin hadn’t thought of that.

Armed with this potential realization, Larkin attempted to bring it up once more.

“Geralt, would it be ok if I talked to you about maybe going to the beach again?” She asked one night as they were clearing dinner dishes. She watched his shoulders tense up.

Oh boy, she thought.

“Sure,” Geralt said, sounding utterly defeated.

Ok, WHAT THE FUCK, thought Larkin. Who hurt my Wolf with a VACATION?

“Geralt,” she started, watching him load the dishwasher, back to her, obviously uncomfortable. “You know you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. I can’t make you go. You won’t hurt my feelings if you say no.”

Geralt turned to face her, over the open dishwasher trays. “No, it’s not – that’s not-“ he took a breath. “Why me?”

Larkin was puzzled. “I don’t understand the question. You’re like my favorite person; I love spending time with you. I thought it might be a nice break from the farm, and school? If it being just the two of us makes you uncomfortable, I can invite-“

“Why would it being just the two of us make me uncomfortable? We live together, just the two of us.”

“Ok, so it’s not me that’s the problem.” Larkin was glad to get that sorted out; she’d worried she’d freaked him out by asking him alone.

“Of course you’re not the problem – you’re never a problem, Jask.” Geralt was looking at Larkin like she were speaking moon-man language.

“Is there a problem? Do you…not like vacations?”

“No, Jas, it’s not-“ he sighed. Larkin watched him push a lock of hair out of his eyes. “My last vacation was…not fantastic. It was very…structured. There was a written daily agenda. It was like a two-week long bad day.”

“Geralt, I don’t mean to be smart, but are you sure that was a vacation? That sounds like an extra circle of hell, to me.”

“It was.”

“Ok. So, knowing that, that isn’t really what I had in mind? I mean, if there’s stuff we want to do, we can talk about it before hand, and I don’t really think we’d need to write it down, but if you wanted to, I guess we could? Like, I’m not sure you’d really need to write down “go for a run” or “let’s go fishing”?

“Fishing?” Geralt’s ears perked up at that.

“Yeah, there’s a bunch of fun stuff we could do, if you want. There’s hiking trails, fishing, I think Taylor’s leaving me her boat, so there’s that-“

“A BOAT?”

Geralt was fully invested now. He left the dishwasher wide open and came to sit next to Jaskier on a barstool at the kitchen island.

“I mean, she is Taylor Swift. It’s a pretty sweet boat.”

“You know how to use it?”

“Yes, Geralt. Former Viscountess, remember? I got that angle covered,” Larkin said, smiling. “If you want, I’ll send you the address, and the website for the town. You can see all the stuff they have going on, it’s a really nice place – both the house and the town.”

“It’s not a city?”

“Oh, Lord, no. This place is the definition of laid-back small town. Lemme ask you this – what are your concerns, other than an agenda driven nightmare of anti-relaxation?”

Geralt snorted. That was exactly what he was worried about. “Lotta people, crowds, feeling cornered.”

“Ok. Can you give me one second to get my laptop? I have some photos I think might help.”

Larkin waited for Geralt to nod, and she hopped up and grabbed her laptop from the living room. She flipped it into tablet mode, and opened a photo album titled “Taylor – Beach – 1st year”.

“Ok, so, this is going to seem silly, but she sent me a video tour of her house, because I was nervous before going the first time.”

“How many times have you been there?” Geralt asked, sounding insanely curious.

“Last year was my third year. She hasn’t really changed much with the house since she took this video.”

Larkin pressed play, and the video showed Taylor, in all her blonde “girl-next-door” glory, starting outside a really nice-looking tan-clapboard-sided ridiculously big beach house, that looked like it was in the middle of fucking nowhere. She walked around the paved drive, showing the marshland across the road from the house, then walked up to the house, up the big front entry stairway, into a foyer the size of their living room. She continued the tour through what seemed like five separate living rooms, a massively well-equipped kitchen, several different dining areas, the 97 bedrooms, the outdoor living areas on the deck outside, and then the little walkway out to the private beach. Taylor did a 360-degree spin on the beach. There were no neighbors.

All in all, the video was thirty minutes long. There was a lot of goofy, silly good-friend stuff throughout; Taylor made up songs about the different rooms, she essentially sang the tour to Jaskier. She ended it by saying “I love you; I can’t wait to see you. We’ll have fun. I promise.”

Geralt looked at Larkin with a look she couldn’t translate. “Did you guys…date?”

“Huh? Oh, that. No. I met her shortly after the fallout of the Countess bullshit. I was…not okay. She was really kind, and a really good friend. She’s still a really good friend. No, we didn’t date.” Larkin smiled at the fond memories the video brought back. It had been a really shitty time, and Taylor, and that beach house made everything a lot less shitty.

“What did you guys do?”

“We sang a lot, we laid on the beach, we took walks, we ate – boy, did we eat, I tell you what that girl can EAT, Geralt; you wouldn’t think it to look at her but GOODNESS. It was great.”

“Why was it great?”

“It was just nice to be able to see her being herself, like, instead of the person society says she is; she wanted to eat, so she did. I did a lot of cooking while I was with her, it was fantastic. We went to the boardwalk a couple times, but we had to kind of lay low, because she’s a BIG DEAL. She has an aunt in town, Aunt Karen, so mostly the townsfolk are real chill about her being there, but sometimes the tourists are the WORST. We went out on the boat, we went fishing, and we slept a lot. Sometimes on the boat, sometimes on the beach. We got really tan.”

“That house has a lot of bedrooms,”

“Doesn’t it? To this day I haven’t slept in them all; it’s my mission in life to do that. I feel like the house keeps gaining extra bedrooms, so it’s always one step ahead of me.” Larkin turned to Geralt. “So, that’s kind of the extent of the excitement. It’s definitelynot crowded, unless you bring people with you. There’s a soundproof music room, so that’s cool. I think you’ll like that feature,” Larkin said with a smile.

“Hey!” Geralt said, sounding somewhat offended. “That was like, one time. Ok, maybe more than one time. But not a lot of times!”

“I’m kidding, big guy. You have been so gracious about my constant noise making, really. I tease.” Larkin considered the man next to her. “You know, you still haven’t answered my original question – do you even like going to the beach?”

“The way you describe ‘beach time’ is not the way I’ve experienced beach time in the past. Your way sounds much more enjoyable.”

“Did you have agendas for beach time, too?” Larkin was horrified someone would desecrate beach time that way.

“Kind of. It wasn’t relaxing, let’s say.”

“Wow. So, it’s like this. You wake up in the morning and want to go hiking? We do that. I wake up and want to lie on the beach for a while, and you don’t? I lie on the beach and you do whatever you want to do. We want to do something together? We figure it out, and do it. If there is a specific something happening on a specific day, that we want to hit? We work it in. There’s like, sightseeing we could do, but it’s not like ‘going to the oldest European city EVER and needing to see every piece of every shard of something someone really old carried from one place to another’ kind of sightseeing. There are a couple nature preserves in the area, and a lot of really good places for nature photos.”

“This sounds too good to be true.”

“Right? I am ridiculously lucky to have such a good friend. I wish she wasn’t going on tour for so long, I think you’d really like her. She’s super goofy, she’s a lot of fun.”

“What’s Renfri think of her?”

“Renfri LOVES HER. She gets heart eyes the entire time Taylor is anywhere in the vicinity. It’s hysterical.”

“Are they…a thing?”

“I’ve never asked, and neither of them has ever said. Taylor deserves privacy. I want them both to be happy. If that’s with each other, then I know they’ll have a good time.”

“So wait. You said she gave you this house for the summer – are you going to be there ALL summer?” Geralt asked. Larkin thought he sounded panicky.

“I, uh, hadn’t really thought about it. I still plan on paying rent, Geralt, it’s not like I’m moving out or anything,”

“I wasn’t worried about the rent, Lark,” Geralt said, making a face at her.

“Then what are you worried about?” Larkin asked, giving Geralt a concerned look.

“Three months is just…a long time,”

Larkin thought that wasn’t exactly what Geralt wanted to say. Larkin was pretty sure she heard “I’ll miss you,” instead. Now it was her turn to hum.

“Well, I don’t think I’ll be there for three months straight, for sure. I do think I want to go before Taylor leaves, so I can see her for a couple days before she’s gone, and I’d like to spend some time with you there, and I think I want to get my brother and sister there for a couple days, too; obviously you’re welcome for that, if you want. They love you, they’d love to see you. Other than that, I don’t really have any ‘must-do’s’ other than maybe having everyone there at the same time? Do you think Eskel and Lambert would want to come? And Aiden? And maybe Triss?”

Yes, Geralt thought. But do I want them to come, is the question.

“What about Renfri?” he said instead, noticing that she hadn’t mentioned her best friend.

“Oh, obviously Renfri would be invited at some point. But she’s already gone with me before. I’ll talk to you before I go, Geralt, it’s not like I’m just gonna up and leave without saying anything,” she paused. “And hopefully, you’d be willing to come with me, at least once,”

“Lemme think about it. I see my therapist tomorrow, I want to talk to him first. I’m serious, Larkin, I really will think about it. I do want to go, it’s just – beforetimes.

“Beforetimes.” She nodded, sadly. Larkin knew exactly what he meant.

*****

Geralt was almost able to predict exactly what Frank, his therapist, was going to say.

“So, let’s break this down. You’re afraid of two things. You’re afraid of going on vacation because vacations with Yennefer were not enjoyable for you, and you’re afraid future vacations will also be not enjoyable. But you’re also afraid of Larkin being away for an extended amount of time. Are those both accurate statements?”

“Yes.” Geralt wanted to argue about the use of the word ‘afraid’ but knew it was pointless because he was, in fact, afraid.

“Let’s start with the overall vacation idea, because I think that one might be a little easier to navigate.”

“Not every vacation is going to be like a Yennefer vacation.”

“You’re getting pretty good at this, maybe we should switch chairs,” Frank said, making Geralt smirk. He really liked his therapist. He’d been seeing Frank for four years; Frank had taken over when his last therapist had retired. He’d liked his last therapist, too; he’d gotten pretty lucky that way. Frank was real. He used examples from real life to illustrate and make parallels. He understood PTSD. He understood Geralt’s limits, and didn’t push – too hard. He called Geralt on his bullshit, in a gentle and professional way. He was a really good therapist.

“You said Larkin gave you an idea of what vacationing at this specific location, specifically with her, would be like. Correct?”

“Yes.”

“And what did she make it sound like?”

“Perfect.”

“Ok. Do you trust Larkin?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s honest. Because she’s down to Earth. Because she cares about me.”

“Do you think anything she said about this beach house, or spending time with her there, is made up, or embellished?”

“No, I don’t.”

“I gotta tell you, I’m really skeptical that she knows Taylor Swift.”

“I’m telling you, Frank, I saw the video. Taylor Swift made Jas a half an hour video five years ago singing her way through this fucking humongous gorgeous beach house. She used Jaskier’s name several times in the video. She told Jas she loved her at the end of it. There are pictures of the two of them together at this house, and other places. Jas has text messages on her phone from her.”

“Well, those could just be made up,”

“Frank. I know you googled Larkin. She’s not making this up. If anything, the HOUSE is made up, but it’s not, because there are pictures of her and Renfri, and Taylor Swift all on the couches and at tables together.”

“You have a fascinating roommate.”

“Yep.”

“Back to the vacation idea. So. How certain are you that Jaskier is telling the truth about the laid-back beach vacation of which she speaks?”

“99.9% certain.”

“And the .1%?”

“It sounds too good to be true.”

“Face it, Geralt, a lot of Jaskier sounds too good to be true, but it isn’t, because you’ve lived with her now for what, over six months?”

“Yep.”

“And there are parts of Jaskier that are NOT too good to be true, correct?” Frank asked, giving Geralt A LOOK.

“Yes.”

“But you still like living with her?”

“I do.”

“I think that brings us to our second point.”

“Joy.”

“Geralt. You knew we’d get here eventually. So. You don’t like the idea of Jaskier being gone for three months straight. How come?”

“I just…don’t want her to be gone that long. That’s a long time.”

“Ok, Geralt, I feel that it is my place to remind you that you’re safe here, you know that, and it’s ok to have feelings, here and everywhere else. Care to delve in to that last bit a little deeper?”

“I’ll miss her.”

“There you go.” Frank paused. “Ok, I’m going to ask, and I won’t push about this one. Why will you miss her?”

Geralt sighed. Yep, he thought. This is the problem.

“I love her.”

“Oh, shit!” Frank exclaimed, his face a mask of surprise. Geralt had never actually seen Frank look really, actually surprised. “I honestly thought that one was gonna take longer.”

Geralt just stared at him.

“Oh, come on, Geralt. I am not your brothers; I’m not going to bust your balls over this but even still. It has been obvious to me for quite a while, and especially since that fucking wedding what the actual fuck is wrong with her family- I apologize. That was inappropriate. Accurate, but inappropriate. Anyway. It’s been fairly obvious for quite a while that you care about her deeply. That’s all I’m gonna say. You pay me to notice things. So I noticed. Mazel Tov, man. For what it’s worth, from what you’ve told me about her, you guys are a very good fit. You’ve both dealt with some really serious shit together in the time you’ve known one another, and you’ve handled it well, both separately, and together. So, good luck, if you decide to move things in a more romantic direction. In my nonprofessional opinion, I think that will be received very well.”

“Oh. Thank you.” Geralt was feeling kind of bewildered, both from admitting OUT LOUD that he loved his roommate in the ‘Yeah, I’d kind of like to get married to you,’ way; but also that his therapist already knew about it, and thought his chances of success were high.

#witcher fic #The Witcher fic #Geralt of Rivia #Jaskier #Fem!Jaskier #GothamCityRollerGirlWrites #Geraskier

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corancoranthemagicalman · 3 years

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So @sigrunsavestheday tagged me for this game during my great Laptop Absence and it’s since been saved in my draft as I’ve slowly tried catching up to things amidst balancing graduation upcoming. Having been tagged by @darkshrimpemotions too, I figured that was the perfect excuse to kick my rear in gear, update the list, and actually post it. :)

The first lines from your last 20 works and see if you spot any patterns!! :) I don’t really know who to tag, but here’s my works listed below the read more.

I’ve noticed that I start with either dialogues or “the” statements a lot. I play with tense and perspectives a lot between all of these (especially the more recent pieces), but you can definitely tell the more present tenses are my shorter works. Typically. Or definitely ones I was getting experimental with. Again, thanks to you both for the tag, and if anyone wants to do this, please tag me as your tagger ;))

1. Will You Take Me Away (Will You Make Me Your Wife): T+ SPN 789 words

The gulls are crying out in the fresh morning, and from where Cas’ stands he can see Kelly keeping a sentinel watch over the water. Her ankles are buried in the surf as the ocean kisses her skin with mist. It’s peaceful, really. The way her hair is swept in the breeze, and she seems like a painting. Motion paused; life still.

Cas peers through the yellow curtains one more time, just to watch Sam chase Jack across the open field that makes up the front yard. Its grass bleeds into the surf where Kelly stands. He can’t see her face, but Cas imagines that she is smiling. Her son—so full of good—young and carefree in a kind world. A paradise.

2. de·noue·ment: T+ SPN 1k words

The Old God was a writer.

He sat at his desk, scribbling away on a page. Or he typed away at keys. He crafted and drafted words— worlds . Creation came to life beneath his fingertips. After the world was created, and filled with his characters, he continued to write. Continued to fill out the page, writing a masterpiece that would culminate into the tale of two brothers.

3. Another Word For Divine: T+ SPN 2.9k words

“What’s all this, then?” Mary asked as she walked into the Bunker’s kitchen on a Sunday morning.

Jack smiled, beaming a sunny disposition as he turned away from the stovetop he was monitoring. “Hi! Sam said I could help with breakfast. I’m watching the bacon.”

Mary let out a breathy chuckle. Despite him looking so much older, Jack was still just a child. In a way, it was the opposite of how she felt seeing Sam and Dean. When she looked at Sam and Dean, it was like she was searching for her babies but could only see men. When she looked at Jack, his blue eyes a mirror of Castiel’s, she tried to see a man. The Devil’s son. But all she could see was a child . The child of her friend. The child of her children.

4. An Invisible Man Sleeping In Your Bed: M SPN 1.5k words

Dean Smith is a simple man. An average man. He orders salads from the cafe down the street. Talks to the other people on his floor when he steps out for his coffee. Has a unicorn laugh that erupts from his office on occasion. He’s sociable, competent, and attractive. There’s only one problem all the single women on the floor have with him.

5. (How Am I Supposed To) Carry On: M SPN 15.9K words

The thing about Florida was that it was hot as balls. The humidity was gross, and Dean could not believe anyone would want to vacation there. Maybe the beaches weren’t so bad, but wendigos didn’t stalk beaches. Sam made some smart sounding comment about silkies to which Cas refuted that silkies were hardly carnivorous and it was the sharks one had to watch out for.

6. Into The Sea Of Waking Dreams: E SPN 5.9k words

Swallowing thickly, Dean traced his fingers over the inscription within the volume that Sam had placed in front of him. His throat felt dry, but his mouth would not salivate. He turned his gaze to Sam, words rasped. “Are you sure?”

7. Modern Methods of Instruction: M SPN 2.7k words

The history of mold and its use for spellwork was an intriguing subject, though hardly relevant to Sam’s current inquiry. Sighing, Sam replaced that particular novel back into its place before retrieving another unearthly arcana book. He flipped through the pages, mentally marking how yellowed they were. Sam wondered if he should begin cataloging the books within the library. Shifting through artifacts was a daunting enough task, but creating a Hunter’s Dewey Decimal System was something more within his wheelhouse.

8. Between The Shadow And The Soul: M SPN 2.3k words

The Righteous Man was touched by angels. Literally and figuratively. Castiel himself had touched the Righteous Man’s soul, bore his grace into him, and stitched his torn soul together. Placed his body back piece by piece with a few added bonuses. Healed the old liver. Twisted the knee back into place. A few pieces here and there that would have no true bearing on his role as the Michael Sword, but which Castiel hoped the Righteous Man would appreciate.

9. You Don't Wanna Be Alone: G SPN 1.7k words

When Dean was four, he watched his mother hold his baby brother to the blooming sunflowers she kept in the backyard. Mom said they were called Sunriches. They were named that because they were like golden suns. Dean thought the sun was golden, but when he tried looking at it, the sun was just a bright, white color. Blinding. Dad said he couldn’t look at the sun without hurting himself, so he stopped trying.

10. I'm Lost And I'm Found: M SPN 1.4k words

The first time Castiel feels hunger, he is standing beside the ocean.

His brother—tall and formidable in his form—watches over the ocean with unblinking eyes.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” His brother sighs wistfully. “The quiet?”

Castiel knows what he means. It has not been so long since Lucifer rebelled against God’s Will. The noise had been terrible; the fighting was great. Now Heaven rolls with ominous thunder that looms within the clouds, waiting to rain down upon the peace that has settled since Lucifer’s Fall.

11. All That I Want For You, My Son (Is To Be Satisfied): T+ SPN 2.8k words

“C’mon, Cas,” Dean’s voice is soft. “Dad’ll be gone soon. And we’ve already fixed everything that my dumb wish messed up anyways. Might as well let him meet the kid, right?”

12. A Two Dimensional Kind of Guy: T+ SPN 2.3k words

“Hey, man, so like…” Shaggy trailed his words off as the dude halted in his steps. His shoulders were large and intimidating but his face made him seem softer and more approachable. It was easier speaking to the guy, Castiel, when faced with his - well, face.

13. You Hang From My Lips: M SPN 1.8k words

You can’t touch him unless his blood is coating your hands.

Maybe it’s because your unholy hands could never touch something so divine unless bathed in its blood. Like red wine cleansing the body’s sins. You’ve heard wine is good for that. Some God-follower interpreted it and some doctor agreed with it.

Maybe it’s because all you know how to do is hurt. Your touch is poison and it drags him down, down, down. Until there’s nothing left of that burning star but a husk.

14. A Second Once In A Lifetime: G The Witcher 1.2k words

The winter had gone quickly in Kaer Morhen this year. Geralt was certain this was because of the non-Witchers who had stayed during the season. His focus had been Ciri’s training and helping Yennefer to heal, and both responsibilities had taken up much of his stay this winter. It had certainly broken up the monotony of repairing the old keep with Vesemir.

15. The History of Tango: M The Witcher 48.9k words

If there was one thing that Jaskier could find agreeable about the eccentric Countess Yennefer of Vengerberg, it was her taste. Well, that and her disregard for social etiquette. Together, it made the woman rather impressive. The Countess had not married into her title, having been bequeathed it in some dramatic fashion that Jaskier had heard no less than three versions of. The people did love their gossip, especially when it surrounded such a scandalous figure.

16. Your Eyes Aren't Rivers There To Weep: T+ SPN 2.7k words

It was a cold night in January when it began. Castiel recalled the humans had recently marked the year 1979. The evening was an ordinary one save for the birth of one, small child. Crying, the babe called out for his mother. Like most humans, the babe hungered. Humans milled about before affixing the newborn into the arms of a tired but brightly smiling mother.

17. You've Been Ever So Kind: T+ The Witcher 2.1k words

“Geralt,” Jaskier whined. “I am sweating like a paid lady in a temple!” He pouted, fanning himself with some tool of an Eastern design that Geralt was not familiar with. The bard cupped his hand over his brow with the opposite hand not already preoccupied with the fan in order to shield his eyes from the overbearing sun.

18. I Heard There Was A Secret Gourd (That David Carved): G The Witcher 2.2k

The laughter of children as they ran along the sidewalk outside was but a muted noise within the apartment inhabited by Geralt Rivia and his goddaughter Cirilla. The young tween sighed boredly as she stared at the scattered patterns. Miscellaneous eyes and mouths meant to be traced on the gourd met her gaze as she sighed again. Drumming her fingers against her cheek, Cirilla turned to face her godfather.

19. A Wet Red Devil: M DC Comics 2.2k words

There was a reason Zatanna did not often invite Constantine to join their missions.

John Constantine was the single most irritating human to have ever existed. A brilliantly talented warlock with a bastard smug grin. A knack to create anarchy amongst even the most peaceful of beings. Zatanna was certain that even Superman himself had wanted to make Constantine choke on his smarmy words.

Sighing, Zatanna placed her forehead to her palm. While she had always tried to keep from inviting Constantine along - well - needs must and all that.

But was this worth it?

20. Vado Dove Vai Tu (I Go Where You Go): M YOI 1.5k words

The worship of the gods is common. Which deity is worshipped varies from city to estate, like which sort of wine decorates a table, but the pantheon under Zeus’ watchful eye is predominantly those deities that are worshipped. Sacrifices are offered for blessings or boons, whether it be for harvest, happiness, or war. The velvet tongues of mortals cry out their gods’ names and bleed forth on altars all for the sake of worship.

#tag game #fics #all of these words holy crow #words are so hard to process #magical moots

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