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bambirex · 1 year

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The Wonderful In You

Pairing: Yentriss/Trissefer

Characters: Triss Merigold, Yennefer of Vengerberg, Tissaia de Vries

Rating: teen

Additional tags: 5+1 things, friends to lovers, infertility, insecurity, blood, injury, coming of age, fluff and angst, triss being yennefer’s biggest cheerleader, women being awesome, mainly Triss’s POV, nightmares, canon divergence, soft triss merigold, soft yennefer of vengerberg, love confession, feelings

Word count: 4,080

Chapters: 1/1

Summary: Five times Triss told Yennefer she loved her without outright saying it, and the one time Yennefer said it for real.

Author’s note: I've always wanted to do one of these 5+1 things fics because I adore them, and I decided to take an underrated, but very sweet pairing for my first try! Not much plot is happening here, just lots of feelings.Feedback is super appreciated!! <3

Read on Ao3

A weak, useless flicker of lightning. Lips pursed tight in concentration, sweat beading on her temples. Eyes welling up with tears of pain and frustration. Hands trembling. A quiet, barely audible whimper. The small flicker dying out.

Triss’s chest tightened in sympathy. She so desperately wanted to run over to the other girl and wrap her arms around her right there, tell her that it was going to be alright. But such affections weren’t allowed in here, not in front of the directress and the other students who watched their struggling peer with barely masked satisfaction, so smug in the comfort of their own, more confident powers. Triss sent them a look full of disdain.

“Let me try again,” Yennefer’s voice trembled, but Triss could hear the defiance underneath it. From the moment Yennefer was brought here, she has been humiliated and mocked for every single mistake that she’s made, but she wasn’t broken. She was a fighter, a survivor. Her iron will would break through her pain.

“I think we’ve seen enough,” Tissaia said, not even sparing a glance in her direction. Triss sighed deeply. The directress had a strange relationship with Yennefer: Triss once overheard a conversation where Tissaia had said that the reason she was so hard on Yennefer, was because she could tell she was special. Triss wished that instead of showing her fondness for Yennefer like this, in this strange, cold way, Tissaia would give her the warmth that Yennefer deserved.

“Let me try again!”

It was a yell, this time. Tissaia finally whipped around to face Yennefer, who stood there with flaming eyes, her hands clenched into fists. Her body trembled, but Triss knew it wasn’t from fear; it was Yennefer’s barely restrained anger trying to escape through her flesh.

“No,” Tissaia told her firmly. “You failed today. You need to take even defeat with grace, otherwise you would never make it.”

For a couple of moments, Yennefer continued to stand there, staring at Tissaia with hatred in her eyes. Triss waited anxiously for the blow to come, but instead, Yennefer turned around and stormed out of the room, slamming the door shut behind her with so much force it nearly came off its hinges.

Tissaia sighed deeply. The disappointment was evident in her eyes. Unlike most students at Aretuza, who only cared about perfecting their powers, Triss was a good observer: she watched the world around herself like a hawk, inspecting everyone’s reactions and silently drawing her own conclusions from them. While other people would have passed Tissaia’s behavior towards Yennefer off as cold and neglectful, Triss saw the truth behind it all. She also knew that Tissaia would never tell Yennefer how she really felt about her; that duty would have to fall on someone who was much more comfortable with her feelings.

Quietly, Triss sneaked out of the room. She remained close to the walls of the hall, making sure no one would notice her walking towards the personal rooms, instead of staying at the lecture like she was supposed to.

When she reached Yennefer’s room, she took a deep breath. She knocked on the door out of politeness, despite knowing that Yennefer would send anyone away in this moment. Still, she waited a couple moments before she entered.

Yennefer was face down on the bed, head buried in her pillows. She was curled up on herself, the twisted curve of her spine even more evident in this position. Triss sat down on the edge of her bed, carefully placing a hand on Yennefer’s shoulder.

Yennefer raised her head with a murderous look, but her eyes softened when she realized it was Triss.

“You sneaked out,” she stated, her voice hoarse from crying. “Tissaia will punish you.”

“I don’t care,” Triss replied. Her hand remained on Yennefer’s shoulder, caressing gently. “I wanted to check on you.”

“I’m doing shitty, thank you for asking,” Yennefer chuckled bitterly. “You saw what happened. I failed.”

“Other girls failed, too. It happens.”

“But I always fail.”

“Some of us just need more time,” Triss said softly. She scooted closer to Yennefer on the bed, her heart fluttering happily when Yennefer didn’t pull away. “I’ve struggled with things you excelled at right away. We all need time to get it right.”

“What if I’ll never get it right?” Yennefer asked. She looked up at Triss with so much pain in her eyes, Triss’s heart clenched. “What if I’ll remain this… useless thing?”

“You’re not useless,” Triss told her quickly. She cupped Yennefer’s face between her hands, wiping away her fresh tears. “You’re meant for big things, Yennefer. I can feel it. Tissaia knows it, too.”

“Tissaia hates me.”

“No, she doesn’t. She cares about you, in her own way. And I care about you, too.”

She gently raked her thumb across Yennefer’s cheekbone, touching her distorted jaw gently. Yennefer leaned into her touch, allowing herself to be vulnerable – it was only Triss, who got to see her like this, at her worst, and in need of comfort.

“You’re special,” Triss reminded her gently, “and even if you weren’t, even if you were just an ordinary girl, I would still care about you. But I know in my heart, that you will be the most feared sorceress on the Continent. You have a power within you, Yennefer, and I know that once you tap into that, you will be unstoppable.”

Slowly, carefully, Triss leaned in to place a feather-light kiss onto Yennefer’s forehead. When she pulled back, there was a faint smile on Yennefer’s face.

Even though she looked completely different, Triss could immediately tell it was her. She would have recognized those piercing violet eyes anywhere: those powerful eyes, full of defiance, boring into your very soul. Those were the only ones that remained the exact same.

Triss was not blind, and it would have been pointless to lie to herself: Yennefer looked beautiful like this. The way that black dress hugged her slim body, the way she held herself straight and high, with her raven locks cascading down her back was nothing short of majestic. The dark, sparkly eyeshadow only accentuated the mysterious beauty of her eyes. It was no wonder all eyes in the room were immediately on her.

But Triss thought Yennefer to be beautiful even before that transformation. She’s seen the beauty in the flaws, in the dislocated and twisted bones that everyone else deemed horrifying. She’s seen the person underneath it all, and she would have never wished for Yennefer to change herself this way.

“What do you think?” Yennefer asked her when she approached her, her full lips curling into a smile. She twirled around, the hem of her dress swimming around her long legs like the wings of a black swan.

“You look different,” Triss replied, unable to fight off the uncomfortable pang in her chest. There was a part of her that was worried that by changing her appearance so drastically, a part of the Yennefer Triss has known was now lost.

Yennefer arched an eyebrow smugly. “That was the point, Triss.”

“I know,” Triss sighed, raking her eyes over Yennefer’s new form. She was trying to get used to it, trying to remind herself that it was still her friend, the one Triss cared for so deeply. “You do look beautiful.”

There was a faint flush on Yennefer’s cheeks. It made Triss smile, at last.

“But you always have been,” she continued, making Yennefer snort.

“That’s bullshit. I used to be hideous, and you know that.”

“I’ve never thought of you that way,” Triss shook her head, horrified at the idea of Yennefer thinking that Triss was just lying to her. “You have always been special to me. And beautiful.”

She reached for Yennefer’s hands, gently squeezing them.

“Beauty isn’t everything, anyways,” Triss continued, staring down at their intertwined fingers. “Everything that you are, all the good things inside you… they have always been there. Even without changing how you look.”

“It’s easy for you to say,” Yennefer rolled her eyes, but luckily, she didn’t pull her hand away. Triss wouldn’t have survived it if she did. “You have always been pretty. The prettiest.”

Triss bit her lip, her cheeks warming up at Yennefer’s words.

“I have always thought the same of you, and I’m not lying,” Triss promised. “I would never lie to you, Yen.”

She looked up again, into those familiar, violet eyes. Yennefer’s long eyelashes fluttered, and suddenly Triss found herself overwhelmed with the need to kiss her, even though she knew it would have been inappropriate.

“I’ve told you before, and I’m more than willing to tell you again,” Triss smiled, rubbing her thumb across the back of Yennefer’s hand, “that you are so much more than what the word sees when they look at you. Your mind… your heart… your power… I have always looked up to you, Yennefer. And I will continue to do so. Because I know you are the best of us.”

Yennefer swallowed audibly. For a couple moments, she didn’t reply, just continued holding onto Triss’s hands.

“So,” she eventually said, “I assume you hate it, then?”

Triss chuckled, rolling her eyes fondly at her friend.

“I didn’t say that! I’m only trying to remind you that you shouldn’t change for anyone. That you are perfect the way you are right now, and the way you always have been. And the way you will be, because…”

“I’m special, I know, I know,” Yennefer laughed. “You don’t have to tell me again.”

“I will keep saying it, until you believe me,” Triss replied, “and, until then. Would you like to dance?”

Yennefer seemed taken aback for a second, then she grinned. Instead of a reply, she grabbed Triss’s hand harder and dragged her towards the middle of the ballroom, not caring about bumping into the other dancing couples.

They placed their hands on each other’s waists as they swayed together in their own rhythm. Triss mapped out the new forms of Yennefer’s body under her fingers, getting to know her again.

“I don’t care how bored you are of hearing it,” Triss whispered, “because I’ll never want you, not for a second, to think you are worthless, or that you have to prove yourself to anyone. Alright?”

“Alright,” Yennefer sighed. She pulled Triss closer, resting her forehead against her shoulder.

Triss let herself slip into her warm embrace with a smile.

The faint sounds of someone struggling seeped into her own, mundane dream, piercing through the sweet fog of sleep. Triss’s eyes snapped open, hazed for a few moments as she slowly came back to reality.

The sheets were rolled up, crumpled, as if someone has been stuck in them and kept trying to break free. The bed creaked slightly, and Triss could now hear the sound of heavy breathing, interspersed with quiet, pained whimpers.

She rolled over onto her side to see Yennefer writhing on the bed, her eyes still closed. Her hands were grabbing onto her pillow, fingers digging in for dear life. Her hair was drenched in sweat, and her body trembled and twitched with the tremors of an invisible fight. She kicked out in her dream, her shallow breathing rising to a wheezy, terrified gasp.

Triss placed a hand on her arm, squeezing gently. Yennefer flinched in her sleep, mumbling something incoherent. Triss squeezed her arm just a tad tighter, trying to pull Yennefer back home.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, leaning in close to Yennefer’s ear, “Yennefer, you’re having a nightmare. Wake up, love.”

The trembling in Yennefer’s body eased as she took in a deep breath. Her eyes fluttered open, confused and worried, until she saw Triss. Then, she immediately flung herself into her arms, burying her face in Triss’s chest.

“I’m here,” Triss told her softly, wrapping her arms around her protectively. She caressed Yennefer’s hair as she sobbed into her chest, her hands fisted into the material of Triss’s nightgown.

“You are okay,” Triss told her, smoothing a hand down Yennefer’s back. Yennefer’s own nightgown stuck to her skin with sweat, and she shivered as Triss caressed her.

“They took it,” Yennefer whispered, her voice slightly muffled as her face was pressed against Triss’s body. “They took it, and I’m never getting it back.”

Triss didn’t need an explanation on what she meant. She knew exactly, what the price of Yennefer’s transformation was. But she’s never brought it up, never asked Yennefer if she’s regretted sacrificing her womb for her beauty. She’s decided it was up to Yennefer to talk about her feelings on the matter, if she’s wanted to.

For decades, Yennefer hasn’t said a word about her loss. She’s had all sort of lovers, men and women and people not falling into those categories alike, but in the end, she’s always returned to Triss. What their relationship would become later on the long run, they’ve never discussed. Triss knew that she would have accepted whatever Yennefer decided, that she would have been okay with Yennefer choosing someone else, even if it meant Triss’s heart would break in the process.

But lately, Yennefer has been aching for something she couldn’t have. The pain of finality has caught up to her.

“I’ll lose everything,” Yennefer continued, still clinging to Triss, “and everyone.”

“Not me,” Triss whispered, holding Yennefer tighter. She placed a kiss on the top of her head. “You will never lose me.”

“You’ll find a man,” Yennefer continued, ignoring what Triss said, “you’ll have his babies.”

“Who said I want that?”

“You’ll need a family. You’ll need stability. I’m a wreck, I’m broken. Is that what you really want in your life, Triss? You could have everything.”

“But I want you,” Triss told her. Tears of sympathy burned her own eyes as she held Yennefer impossibly closer, wanting her to be as close to herself as possible. “I’ve always wanted you. I’ll never want anyone else.”

Yennefer’s eyes were bright with tears as she finally looked up at Triss. Triss wiped them away gently, like so many times before.

“And I’ll never leave you,” she promised, before she hooked a finger under Yennefer’s chin, raising her head so she could kiss her on the lips, slowly, sweetly. Their kiss was the seal on the promise Triss made, a promise that Triss would never break.

The soil was loose beneath their feet, causing them to stumble every few steps. Triss giggled as she nearly tripped, grabbing onto Yennefer’s hands in the last second.

“Where are we even going,” Yennefer huffed as she stabilized Triss with an arm around her waist, “we’ve been crawling through the dirt for hours!”

“You’ll see,” Triss replied, grinning cheekily. She kissed the side of Yennefer’s head, softening her annoyance. “You’ll love it, I promise.”

She moved forward, grabbing Yennefer’s hand to pull her after her. She could imagine Yennefer rolling her eyes behind her, in the company of that faint, fond smile whenever she thought Triss was doing something silly, but endearing. The thought made warmth spread inside Triss’s chest.

As soon as she’s heard about this place, she knew she had to take Yennefer here. Her stomach tingled with excitement as the forest opened up before them, and the field spread out in front of their eyes.

There were flowers amidst the harsh green grass, blooming in all sorts of colors: the plants swayed softly in the gentle breeze, the buoyant reds, the cheerful yellows, the lovely blues and gentle pinks of the flowers shining brightly everywhere their eyes could see.

Triss glanced at Yennefer next to her, her heart swelling inside her chest when she spotted that unabashed awe in Yennefer’s eyes. Yennefer stared at the flowers before her, her lips parted slightly as she took one careful, slow step towards the field, as if she was worried she would scare the flowers away.

“Well?” Triss asked, never taking her eyes off Yennefer as she tentatively discovered the field. “What do you think of it?”

“It’s beautiful,” Yennefer breathed, her lips curling into the most carefree smile Triss has ever seen. It was so beautiful, that it outshone the beauty of the flowers.

“Apparently, these flowers live forever,” Triss explained, “they never die. They forever remain this beautiful and colorful. Even during winter. They hide under the snow for a while, and then they sprout up again, looking ever so perfect and strong.”

She stepped closer to Yennefer, reaching for her hand. Yennefer immediately laced their fingers together, pulling Triss closer.

“I wanted to show you, because I thought you would appreciate it,” Triss continued, a little shyly. Yennefer sighed, but it was a happy one. She wrapped an arm around Triss and pulled her closer, burying her face in her neck.

“I love it,” Yennefer told her. Triss could feel her grinning against her skin. “It’s beautiful.”

“I hope…” Triss started, then she trailed off. She swallowed around the lump in her throat, suddenly feeling choked up with emotions.

“I hope we will be like these flowers.”

“That we would live forever?”

“Not necessarily that,” Triss smiled, feeling tears welling up in her eyes, “but this thing between us… what we are. Our connection. I hope that will live forever. Even if sometimes the snow falls on us… we will come back alive again. That we will keep shining against all odds. I want that for ourselves.”

Yennefer smiled, reaching up to tuck a piece of hair behind Triss’s ear. She cupped her cheek and placed a soft kiss onto her lips which made Triss’s knees buckle underneath her.

“I hope so, too,” Yennefer whispered. “Thank you, for taking me here today.”

Triss could only reply with pulling Yennefer into another, even deeper kiss.

The tears didn’t seem to want to stop. They flowed down her face endlessly as the tension finally broke, as the pain and loss poured out of her. Triss sobbed freely, carelessly, clinging onto Yennefer like an anchor. She never wanted to let go of her again, never wanted to let her out of her sights.

Yennefer held her back, her arms tight around Triss. She wept silently, as opposed to Triss’s loud cries. But then again, she didn’t know how Triss felt, she didn’t know the despair and the grief. She didn’t know what it meant for Triss to see Yennefer again.

“I thought we’ve lost you,” Triss whimpered against Yennefer’s shoulder, smearing tears all over her dress, “I thought you were gone.”

“I’m here,” Yennefer told her, clutching Triss tighter. “I’m here.”

Triss snifled loudly, trembling against Yennefer. She never wanted to feel like this ever again, like her world just ended. She thought Yennefer died. She thought everything that Triss held dear in this life was gone forever.

She nearly went insane with grief. She wanted to destroy the world around her, because she didn’t want to live in it without Yennefer on her side. She wanted to get rid of all the memories, because they hurt too much, while desperately clinging to them, needing the last bits of her lover on her mind. Tissaia was worried about her. She truly thought that Triss has gone mad. She tried to force Triss to focus on her healing, instead, to get better after her injuries, but Triss couldn’t care less about herself. The only thing on her mind was Yennefer, and the aching, empty hole she’s left behind.

And now, Yennefer was back. She was alive, holding Triss. Triss could barely hold herself up, she would have probably collapsed if it weren’t for Yennefer’s arms around her. The relief upon seeing Yennefer again nearly consumed her.

“Gods,” Triss sniffled as she pulled back, still grabbing onto Yennefer’s shoulders. She took a good look at her, still barely believing that what she was seeing in front of her eyes, was real. “You really are back.”

“I am,” Yennefer reached up to cradle Triss’s cheek. “And so are you. Are you alright?”

“I don’t matter,” Triss whispered, “what matters is that you’re here. And alive, and well. Gods, Yennefer… I thought I would die without you. I was… I was hoping that I would. Because there’s no life without you, I can’t live without you…”

“You don’t have to,” Yennefer shushed her softly, “see? We’re together again.”

“When I’ve heard you were back,” Triss continued, her voice wavering, “at first I didn’t believe it. I thought it was some cruel joke. Then, I thought… that even if I’ve died… it would have been still worth it, if it meant you’d be back. Yennefer, I… I never want to be without you. I’m terrified you’re not real, that I’ve gone insane with your loss…”

“Triss,” Yennefer spoke to her softly, caressing her face with her thumbs, “it’s alright now. What should I do to make you believe I’m back?”

“Kiss me,” Triss begged, dropping to her knees in front of Yennefer. She grabbed onto her dress, terrified that if she took her hands off Yennefer for a second, she would disappear. “Touch me, make love to me, make me yours again. I wanna feel you, I wanna know you won’t disappear again.”

Yennefer did all of that that night, touched and kissed Triss so gently, but with enough intensity for her to know she was there. And Triss touched her the same, merging together with Yennefer in their bed, refusing to let go for even a second.

No, no, not Triss. Not her. She had to be okay, she couldn’t be hurt.

Yennefer pushed everyone out of the way, her heart hammering inside her chest. She ran so fast her feet barely touched the ground. She couldn’t even see where she was going, blindly stumbling forward just to reach Triss, just to see if she was alright.

She’s lost sight of her during the battle: she could tell that the rest of the sorceresses were alright, but she couldn’t find Triss. Her heart clenched painfully, tears of desperation filling her eyes. It was like Sodden all over again, but with the roles reversed: last time, it was Triss who thought she’s lost Yennefer, and who had to spend so much time in painful uncertainty. Now, it was Yennefer who was forced to go through the same, not knowing if Triss was alright or not.

She found her at last, curled up on herself on the floor. Blood soaked through her dress, and her eyes were closed. Yennefer dropped to her knees next to her, reaching out for Triss. Her hands were soon covered in blood as she touched her.

“Triss,” Yennefer whispered, tears streaming down her face. Triss didn’t reply, just lay there, motionless. Yennefer shook her head. This couldn’t be happening. She couldn’t lose her. Triss was her everything.

She thought back on all the time they’ve spent together: she remembered a young, friendly Triss who told her it was fine if she struggled with her magic, a gentle soul who always believed Yennefer was the most beautiful, most special thing in the world. She remembered the Triss who was always by her side, who always provided her comfort during her lowest points, who cared for her like no one else did, who showed Yennefer that life had a lot to give, even when it felt like everything was hopeless. Triss, who, despite constantly reminding Yennefer of how special she was, had trouble seeing her own worth. Triss, who loved Yennefer so much, but never dared say it out loud, but said and did so many other things that spoke louder than any words could, because that was what Yennefer needed in those moments. Triss, whom Yennefer loved so much in return, and whom she refused to let slip away.

“Triss, come back to me,” Yennefer pleaded with her, raising one of Triss’s hands to her lips. She kissed each of her bloodied knuckles, her tears falling onto Triss’s skin. “I love you, I love you so much,” Yennefer whispered, “I love you more than anything in this world. Please, don’t leave me.”

She laid her head against Triss’s hand, sobbing as she clutched onto her, whispering a thousand more “I love you”s against her skin, a desperate mantra to somehow bring her back.

Then, faintly, she felt a squeeze around her own hand, followed by hearing a weak intake of breath.

“I love you too,” Triss whispered, her eyes opening slowly.

#yentriss #trissefer #triss merigold #yennefer of vengerberg #the witcher fic #the witcher fanfiction #yennefer x triss #yentriss fanfiction #trissefer fanfiction #my fic

24 notes · View notes

dreamofbecoming · 2 years

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this isn't a breakup, dearheart, it's a season finale

guess who wrote yet another thing that isn't the next chapter of sleep now she pleads? what up demons it's me ya boi

anyway i saw this reddit post and immediately started foaming at the mouth so this happened

enjoy!

geraskier/yentriss (yenralt but not really)

rating: t

wc: 6.3k

ao3

“How dare you ask me that? How can you accuse me of something so low! I have never been unfaithful to Triss, and I never will!”

The world tilted alarmingly. Metaphorically, of course, but Geralt had never understood quite how apt a metaphor it was until just this moment.

“Triss? But you—we—what about us?”

The look of bewilderment that melted the incandescent rage off of Yen’s lovely face might have been gratifying in a less fraught circumstance.

“Wh—us? What do you mean us? We’re fine, aren’t we? I thought you liked Triss!”

“I—but—I thought—” Flustered, and correspondingly out of words, Geralt gave up and fumbled through his pockets, pulling out the little velvet box he’d been carting around all week and thrusting it out in front him, imploring Yen to put the pieces together for herself.

Yennefer, for her part, had gone very still, violet eyes wide and fixed on the ring box in Geralt’s hand. She stared for a long moment, then abruptly nodded her head once and turned on her heel towards the kitchen.

“Right. Wine. I don’t know exactly what’s happening right now, but whatever it is, we need wine. A lot of wine. Maybe all the wine you have.”

That might be excessive, given that they were having this discussion in Geralt’s living room at Corvo Bianco, but under the circumstances, he was inclined to agree with her.

This wasn’t how today was supposed to go. This wasn’t how this whole week was supposed to go, frankly.

Things had started to deteriorate not long after he finally caved and bought the ring Yen had been hinting at for months. He hadn’t yet worked out the right time to ask, so he had taken to carrying it around in case of spontaneous inspiration, until The Party.

The Party hadn’t been something he expected to earn Capital Letter Incident status when his girlfriend of six years first mentioned that her new boss was having a cookout for her team and she had been given a plus one. It had hardly registered as meaningful at all, beyond the stress of having to drag himself out of his quarterly reports to—horror of horrors—socialize. With strangers, no less.

(Perhaps Geralt should have considered it a red flag that he had never met most of Yennefer’s coworkers, but the truth was that despite their longterm and—Geralt would have insisted until about five minutes ago—very amicable relationship, they led separate lives in many ways. That was just how they both liked it. They were both dedicated to their careers, and they had very different ideas on things like home décor and family planning and how close to the nearest 24-hour grocery store a house should be and...alright maybe he could see how they weren’t quite as compatible as he had been telling himself they were for the last six years, but he did love her, alright? She was his best friend, and it wasn’t like he was ever going to find anything better than what they had, was it? He wasn’t settling, he was just being...realistic.)

The first issue arose when, upon arriving to Yen’s boss’s home, he was introduced to their hostess as “my cousin, Geralt Rivia.” He had been too startled to correct her; verbal confrontation had never been Geralt’s strong suit, and he was so taken aback that his voice nearly fled him entirely, so he let it go and resolved to ask her as soon as they were alone.

Maybe she wanted Tissaia to think she was single? Lawyers were a notoriously cutthroat bunch, maybe the implication of having someone to come home to might call Yennefer’s dedication to the firm into question. Geralt though that was ridiculous, but he didn’t pretend to understand the ins and outs of office politics. There’s a reason he owned his own business, so he never had to answer to anyone, and if any of his workers or vendors started causing problems he could just stop working with them.

Then again, maybe it was just a joke. Geralt didn’t always understand jokes on the first pass, although Yen had known him long enough to know when to explain something to him ahead of time, usually. Still, when she had continued to introduce him as her cousin to all the lawyers and legal aides scattered around Tissaia’s back garden, he had decided it must be a joke, because what else could it be? He would just have to mention to her once they left that it wasn’t something he understood or was comfortable with, and ask her to please correct the record on Monday. It wouldn’t be the first time they had had a similar chat, having known each other since their university days, and Yen was always gracious and accommodating about Geralt’s social limitations, in her own blunt, sarcastic way. In fact, she was usually the one encouraging him to set boundaries with people, and she was always pleased and proud when he put her lessons into practice, even with her. It was part of what made him love her so much.

So he had bitten his tongue (not difficult, when that was his default state anyway) and suffered through excruciating small talk with most of Yen’s coworkers. (Admittedly he did have a very pleasant conversation with Renfri Creyden from Acquisitions, who, as it turns out, was more than happy to spend a half hour trading insults about Irion Stregobor. The board chair was one of the only people from Yen’s work who Geralt knew personally, having taken his class junior year and nearly been expelled on trumped up charges after calling him out in public for sexually harassing the female students. Apparently he was as universally hated among the staff at the firm as he had been as a professor, which was gratifying.)

In the car on the way back to Geralt’s place, he had tentatively brought up his discomfort, looking for an explanation, and was surprised and concerned to be met with a terse “I didn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea,” and a refusal to discuss it further. Her mood had seemed to sour the more he had pushed for a clarification about what exactly “the wrong idea” would have been, and eventually he had given up, troubled and anxious.

He hadn’t seriously considered the possibility of an affair until Eskel brought it up. He had called his brother that same night, unable to sleep out of fear that he had somehow fucked up his relationship without realizing it and needing Eskel’s outside perspective and steady reassurance. Instead, he had been met with reluctant pity, Eskel asking him if he was absolutely sure she wasn’t cheating? Maybe with a colleague, since that would explain her insistence that no one at work be aware of their relationship?

The possibility had occurred to Geralt only very briefly, and since he had called his big brother in the hopes of being told that he was being crazy and he had nothing to worry about, the resignation in Eskel’s voice was a gut punch. He had been cheated on before—part of him wondered sometimes if it was inevitable, being an asexual person in a relationship with someone allosexual. Unfortunately, Yen was usually the one insisting he put those thoughts out of his head, that he deserved to be loved for who he was, by someone who wouldn’t need him to change to be “enough.” The thought that she might not have meant any of those things was shockingly painful.

He knew his family weren’t huge fans of Yen, but then, they’d only met her a handful of times, and never since they’d been dating. Yen’s past made her closed-off and suspicious of strangers, especially family, since her own had been the source of so much pain and betrayal. She often came off aloof and selfish, but Geralt was one of the few allowed beneath the chitinous armor she wore in the face of the outside world, and he knew that she was one of the fiercest, kindest people alive. He would take a bullet for her, and she for him, he was sure. He wished his father and his brothers could see her for who he knew her to be, but he didn’t begrudge them their caution. They lived so far away that they were rarely able to come visit. Geralt usually went home to Kaedwen a few times a year to see them, though Yen had never made the trip with him, despite multiple invitations. They had only met her twice, once at graduation, and again when the whole family—Vesemir and Guxart, Eskel, Lambert, and Aiden—, had all driven down to help Geralt pack up his Novigrad apartment and get everything shipped to the vineyard he’d just purchased in Toussaint. She had been fairly standoffish to them both times—not impolite, just distant, but the impression had been made regardless.

He wished things were different, and admittedly he had hoped maybe a wedding could be another chance to bring them together, but for now he accepted the slightly frosty status quo. If he had the words to communicate his understanding of either party to the other, he might be able to fix it, but as it was, the nuances of their dynamic eluded him. He knew the animosity on both sides was a result of their love for him, which is why he believed the whole thing was more than a bit silly, but since all involved were willing to hold the tentative peace, he decided it was more trouble to wade into the quagmire than it was to just ignore the tension.

This did mean, however, that Eskel was immediately suspicious of Yen’s behavior, and at his urging, Geralt had called his girlfriend over to ask her directly about her fidelity before he popped the question.

Which brought them to now, both of them well past tipsy, sprawled on the couch as they each tried to reconcile reality with the lives they believed they had been leading until today.

“I jus’—the thing is, Geralt, the thing I don’t get is, the thing is this. Ooh, gimme that,” Yen slurred, making grabby hands at the tub of mocha chip he had fished from the freezer a few minutes ago. Geralt handed it over obligingly, nudging her with his socked foot when she didn’t continue immediately.

“The thing is?”

“Right!” She gestured wildly with her heaping spoonful, barely noticing when Geralt lunged forward to hold a napkin underneath with a wobbly hand in an attempt to protect her expensive satin trousers. “The thing! The thing is, I don’ get it! We never even, Geralt, we never even kissed! How’d you think we were dating when we never kissed even once? You love kissing!”

“I mean, we did kiss, t’be fair. ‘M not a total idiot.”

“We kissed in college, sure, but we gave up on that after, like, a week! That was years ago! And I know you’re not an idiot, don’t talk about my best friend like that, shithead.” This last was punctuated with a jab to his kidney from a remarkably sharp knee.

Geralt took another swig of his wine. He was thankfully past the worst of the embarrassment of this evening, but there was still no easy way to be told that the woman you were supposed to have been seriously dating for the better part of a decade had apparently never noticed you were together, or thought of you as more than a friend. Still, he didn’t think all of the responsibility for this colossal miscommunication could be laid at his feet. That hardly seemed fair, considering.

“No, I mean we kissed again. Six years ago, when we were still in Novigrad. ‘S when we—ugh. When I thought we got together.”

Yen tilted her head quizzically, an impressive feat given that she was also attempting to simultaneously fit her ice cream spoon and her wine glass in her mouth. Despite the revelations of today, Geralt was grateful he was still allowed to have this, to be the person trusted to see Yennefer Vengerberg, terror of the Continent, at her least dignified.

“You had that. You know, the thing. That dinner thing. For your job. And Istredd was supposed to take you, but—”

“Oh shit! I forgot about that!”

“Blocked it out, more like. Still think you should have let me hit him.”

“He had moved out of the country, Geralt, I wasn’t gonna let you fly to Nilfgaard just to punch my ex-boyfriend who ghosted me for a job and stood me up for my celebratory promotion dinner.” The well-worn tracks of the familiar argument soothed Geralt’s lingering anxiety, and he rolled his eyes fondly.

“Spoilsport. Anyway, don’t you remember? We went out after? We were at Zoltan’s til last call, you got so fuckin’ pissed that night. You didn’t want to go home with all of Istredd’s stuff gone, so I brought you back to mine, and you. Uh. You kissed me. Nothin’ else happened, obviously, and I guess...now that I think about it, we didn’t talk about it in the morning, but you kissed my cheek again when I dropped you off home, and after that, I thought...you really didn’t notice? I kept taking you out to dinner and things? We had that picnic by the beach, and I asked you to come home to Kaedwen with me for the holidays? I was bummed when you said no, but I jus’ figured you were busy with the promotion. And I didn’t blame you after that year because I could never convince Vesemir you didn’t mean anything by it, I didn’t want you to have to deal with him bein’ a dick. Ah, fuck, everything makes so much more sense now. I’m so stupid!”

Geralt groaned, burying his face in his hands, the embarrassment returning full force. This was the most humiliating thing that had ever happened to him. Maybe to anyone. Fuck, he was going to have to tell his family about this. Lambert was never going to let it go, ever. Maybe he should just leave. Fake his death, move somewhere remote. Poviss, maybe? Nobody would look for him in Poviss.

“Oy! You’re thinking bad thoughts in there, I can tell! Stop it!”

“Augh!” Geralt flailed right off the couch when something cold and wet jabbed him in the ear.

Yen was staring wide-eyed from the couch when he managed to get his bearings, holding the offending ice cream spoon in one manicured hand.

Geralt blinked owlishly at her from the floor. She snorted inelegantly, just once, clearly holding back a giggle. The silence stretched a moment longer.

They burst into hysterical laughter at the same time, leaning forward as they howled until they smacked their foreheads together, which only made them laugh harder. Every time they started to come down, they would catch each other’s eye again and the whole thing would start again from the beginning.

When they could finally breathe again, they were both on their backs on the carpet, heads beside each other and feet pointed at opposite walls, panting as they caught their breaths.

“I meant it about the kissing, though, Geralt. I know you, remember? I know you still want that kind of closeness with your partner. You’re the cuddliest bastard I know, you dick. How could you think I would let you dangle for six years in a relationship where you weren’t fulfilled? That I would do that to you?”

For the first time in this whole convoluted mess, Geralt felt shame. Not embarrassment for having made a fool of himself, but shame for having doubted the ferocity of Yen’s love for him. After fifteen years, he should know better. He turned his head to face the coffee table so he wouldn’t have to look her in the eye.

“I just...I figured it was like before. With the others. That kissing if it wasn’t going to lead to sex wasn’t...fair to you. So you didn’t want to. And I figured, if you don’t want to, no one will. And you’re my best friend anyway, so if no one is ever going to be better, being with you is the best thing I could hope for.” Yen made an affronted noise behind him, and he turned back to her, hurrying to correct himself. “I don’t mean—it wasn’t like I wanted to be with you because I didn’t think I could do better! No one could do better than you, Yen. You’re my favorite person. I just meant, a life without kisses or cuddling would be ok, if it was with you.”

The righteous anger hadn’t left her expression despite the tears glistening in her eyes, but Geralt had known her long enough to recognize her “Geralt is being belittled by someone (including, but not limited to, himself) and I’m going to do some violence about it” face.

“Listen, fuckface, you’re my favorite person too, and that’s why you should shut the fuck up,” Yen snarled, propping herself up on one elbow and punctuating each word with a jab of her finger to Geralt’s sternum. “If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a hundred times, you’re worth more than that. Those bitches at school were wrong, plain and simple. They shouldn’t have treated you that way, and one of the greatest regrets of my life is that all I did was put Nair in Sabrina’s conditioner after you broke up, and I didn’t make them all regret ever being born to cross my path.” She glowered at the memory, before her expression changed abruptly, cycling rapidly through concern into alarm.

“Oh, Geralt, shit. I’m so sorry. This is—this is a breakup for you, isn’t it? You’re going through a breakup and I’m being an asshole. Fuck. What—uh. Shit. What can I do? What do you need?”

Despite himself, Geralt laughed. “Sorry, sorry, I’m not laughing at you. Ok, I’m laughing at you a little. But only because, weirdly, I think I’m sort of...relieved?” He paused, trying to sort through his feelings and match them to the right words. The process was easier with Yen, and easier still with alcohol in his system, but it was still painstaking and slow. Yen waited patiently, more than used to Geralt’s need for time and stillness to come up with his words by now. “You know I love you, more than anybody, but now that I’m looking back over the whole thing, I think it felt sort of...forced? Like I wanted so badly to be in love with you that I thought if I just believed it hard enough, it would be true? I think...I think I tried to convince myself that this is what romantic love is supposed to feel like, and even though I knew deep down it isn’t, I told myself it didn’t matter because it was still better than anything else I would ever get, so I should just make the best of it. That’s why—” He waved vaguely in the direction of the ring box, abandoned on one of the end tables somewhere around bottle number three.

“Yeah, why did you get a ring? I mean, why now?”

“You kept talking about marriage and weddings and proposing, and I saw you looking at that one when you came with me to get that watch for Guxart’s Midwinter gift. I thought you were dropping hints.”

One flawless eyebrow arches, her face incredulous. “You thought I was asking you for something by dropping subtle, indirect hints? And it worked? I don’t know if I’m offended or proud, honestly.” Geralt laughed again, because alright, that was fair. She was right, asking indirectly was a terrible way to get Geralt’s attention about anything, and apparently the only reason it worked this time was because she hadn’t actually been dropping anything at all, he was just scavenging for discarded social cues on the side of the road like a raccoon. He tried, and mostly failed, to hold back a giggle at the image.

“Wait! You got the ring I was looking at?”

“...Yes?”

“Shit, I was planning to buy that for Triss!” Well, that certainly explained all the wedding talk. “Fuck, do you think they’ll have another one at the store?”

Now it was Geralt’s turn to lift a brow. “Why would you need another one?”

“For Triss, Geralt, keep up!” She was getting more and more frantic, hands digging into her hair in distress.

“Yen. Look at me.” Panicked eyes met his. “You don’t need another ring. The one you wanted is right there.” He pointed at the box.

Yen’s gaze followed his fingers, and after a moment she seemed to deflate. She looked back at him, somewhat sheepish. “’M drunker’n I thought, I think.” Geralt snorted another laugh.

“You think? Dork.” She whacked him in the chest indignantly, making him chuckle. “Mean it, though. ‘S yours. Bought it for you, after all. Ah fuck, I’m gonna have to apologize to Triss, aren’t I? I bet I’ve been an asshole without noticing, somehow.”

He cringed at the prospect. Maybe he would wait until after Yen proposed. She’d be in a good mood, that way, and would definitely feel secure in the relationship, so that would be better, right? When was the best time to apologize to your best friend’s fiancée for mistakenly believing you were the one dating their partner for the entire time you’ve known each other?

In fairness, Geralt wasn’t sure he could blame the autism for this one; this didn’t seem like the kind of situation a neurotypical person would know how to navigate either.

There was another undignified snort from Yen’s direction. “Maybe not to Triss, but definitely to Jaskier.”

“Who?”

She raised an eyebrow at him from where she’d shifted to prop her back against the leg of the sofa. “Jaskier? The guy Triss and I tried to set you up with, who was devastated when you blew him off completely and never called? Although—oh, shit, that makes sense now! I was so sure you’d like him, I couldn’t figure out what the problem was!”

Geralt had to struggle a little through the wine-haze to figure out what she was talking about. Eventually a foggy memory surfaced of a dinner he and Yen had gone to several months previous. A double-date, she’d called it. Which—oh. Ah. He had assumed that he and Yen were on a date with another couple, but now...well, fuck. That explained why “Triss’s boyfriend” had been so flirty and handsy with him all night, and why he had seemed so disappointed when Geralt insisted on bidding him a firm goodnight outside the restaurant and going home alone. Yen had gone home with Triss, which made a lot of sense in hindsight, but at the time he had written off as women best friends doing women best friends things.

Being flirted with overtly enough for him to notice had made Geralt tremendously uncomfortable, especially from someone who was supposed to be on a date with someone else, right in front of both of their partners. He remembered thinking the man was very attractive, but must be a special kind of sleezy to behave so shamelessly in full view of both of their dates, and wondering why a sweetheart like Triss was with someone like that in the first place.

With the fresh eyes of new information, that night took on a whole new sheen. Jaskier had, evidently, not been sleezy in the slightest, but instead very gratifyingly interested in his date, who spent all night brushing him off and paying attention to another woman, in front of her rightful partner. Fuck, Geralt was the sleeze, wasn’t he?

“Oh, gods, why did you let me act like such a prick? He probably thinks terribly of me now,” Geralt groaned, flopping backwards and focusing intently on the underside of the coffee table. The far corner could use another pass with the sander, probably. He should take it into the workshop soon. Not tomorrow, though. Tomorrow was for lying in the bathtub cursing his decision-making.

Yen let out a thoughtful hum. “I wouldn’t be so sure, actually. Triss said he really liked you, and was disappointed he never heard from you. I don’t know him that well, but I bet if you called him and explained the misunderstanding, he’d probably think it was funny. If you’re interested, that is…?”

He glared at her from his place under the table. She knew damn well what kind of person he was attracted to.

She rolled her eyes in response, their ability to have silent conversations apparently not affected by the radical rearranging of their relationship over the last few hours. “Don’t give me that look, I know he’s your type, that’s why I set you up in the first place. I’m never wrong. I only meant that, for you, you’re getting out of a serious, long-term relationship. Are you sure you want to jump right back in? I might not know him very well, but Triss does, and she adores him—he doesn’t deserve to just be a rebound for you, you know.”

Chagrined, he hauled himself up to sit beside her. He snagged the discarded wine bottle and poured them both another glass.

“I don’t—Hm. I don’t know how to explain it without sounding rude.”

“Like that ever stopped you before, you brute. Out with it.”

“I feel...I feel like this is the biggest, most significant breakup of my life, and also like it isn’t that at all.”

A pause. “You’re right, that’s not a very good explanation.”

He flicked her in the ear, and dodged her retaliating pinching fingernails.

“Shut up, you know I’m bad at this. I just mean—I’m not sure what I mean. But it feels ok. It’s weird that I’ve apparently been single for...Melitele, eight years, but I feel like I want to try something real again, not mourn what I never had.”

“That was damn near poetic, that was.”

“Shut up, Yen.”

“Yes, dear.”

-----

Jaskier, uncharacteristically, was silent for a long moment. He sipped from the glass of (admittedly delicious) rosé Geralt had thrust into his hand practically the moment he walked through the door, apparently a personal favorite of his host.

Jaskier had not expected to ever hear from Geralt Rivia again after the most disappointingly mediocre date of his life. (He wouldn’t dare call it the worst date, not after the time Valdo set his favorite jacket on fire “by accident” after Jaskier won the composition scholarship they had both been gunning for, on their first last date (of, regrettably, several last dates, every time Jaskier got bored enough or lonely enough to give him another shot).)

Despite being incredibly charming in an obviously unintentional way, the absolutely stunning vintner (Vintner! That was his actual job! Owning and operating a vineyard!) had all but ignored him all night, despite Jaskier’s very best attempts at flirting (which he knew from experience were at least 95% effective), and had, instead, been oddly invested in Triss’s girlfriend Yennefer all night. Not in a creepy way, really, but just in a way that felt very much like he didn’t have strong opinions one way or the other about anyone else at the table, and wasn’t interested in forming them. Triss had mentioned that Geralt and Yen had been best friends since college, so he hadn’t thought it was that weird that they were obviously close, necessarily, except that it felt like Yennefer was actually on a date with both of them and no one had bothered to tell poor Jaskier.

Which, given the stumbling but genuinely contrite apology and explanation he had been treated to over the last half hour or so, made a lot of sense, given that apparently Geralt and Triss were both on a date with Yennefer, but apparently only Geralt knew that.

Truth be told, if he had heard this story from any other date, he would have called bullshit immediately and left without looking back. But not only had he really, really wanted to go out with Geralt again (it wasn’t just that he was stupid gorgeous, although Triss had showed him Geralt’s Facebook before the date and Melitele be good no one should look that sexy in overalls, but he also had a sneaky, dry humor that contrasted with Jaskier’s perfectly, and his eyes lit up beautifully when he talked about his brothers or his grapes or his horse (who apparently lives in the?! Stables?!? Behind the farmhouse????) and basically everything about him was perfectly tailored to suit Jaskier’s fantasy of the perfect man), Triss had also promised that while the story wasn’t hers to tell, she swore on the one working printer in the office that it had been a misunderstanding and he should, at the very least, listen to Geralt’s explanation.

Whatever he had expected when he texted Geralt back, agreeing to hear him out, it hadn’t been this.

“So, just so I’m totally clear on the details, you thought you were in a relationship with Yennefer this whole time?”

“Yeah. Since before we moved here from Novigrad.”

“And...forgive me if this is a rude question, but—”

“How did I believe that for so long when it wasn’t true?”

“Yes. That.”

Geralt sighed, looking more sheepish than offended, thankfully. He swirled his own wine glass thoughtfully. “I don’t know if Yen mentioned when she set us up, but I’m asexual. So a lot of the time, a romantic relationship doesn’t look that much different from a strong friendship for me, and when Yen broke up with her ex and kissed me while she was drunk, I guess I just...got my wires crossed. And even though she’s my best friend, our circles don’t really cross that much, so no one realized until now.”

That raised several questions for Jaskier, and he wasn’t sure which one to ask first. He decided to cross his T’s as Triss’s best friend, to get it out of the way. “Do you kiss Yennefer a lot, still? In the last couple years, I mean?”

The wry smile on Geralt’s face told him he hadn’t succeeded at all in being subtle, but that was fine. “You mean since Yen started seeing Triss? Don’t worry, I’m glad she has a friend like you looking out for her. And no, we haven’t kissed again since that first drunken night six years ago, actually. It’s...it’s one of the reasons she was mad at me, to start with.”

“Why on earth would she be mad at you for not kissing her if you weren’t together?”

“She was more upset that I was willing to settle for a relationship without it, and that I never brought it up with her. I guess that would have solved the problem a lot sooner, probably, but I didn’t want to rock the boat. She hates when I don’t stand up for myself.”

Mollified somewhat, Jaskier hummed into his drink. “So you do prefer some level of physical intimacy in a relationship, then?”

To Jaskier’s unmitigated delight, Geralt blushed at this. He mumbled something unintelligible into his wine.

Utterly charmed, Jaskier grinned at him across the coffee table. “Sorry, what was that, darling?”

If anything, Geralt blushed even deeper before replying in a flat voice, “I like cuddling, and pretty much anything that ends with everyone’s pants still on. But mostly kissing.”

Jaskier’s grin grew, and he leaned forward on the couch with his flirtiest expression. “Well, I can work with that, darling, that’s no problem at all.”

Surprisingly, Geralt’s expression became pensive. “Are you sure?”

Taken aback, Jaskier sat back up. “Of course, why wouldn’t I be?”

Geralt’s fingers worked anxiously at the stem of his wine glass. “It has been before, is all. A problem, I mean.”

“How could it possibly be a problem to be allowed to hold and kiss someone as lovely as you?”

“It wouldn’t be...unfair to you? To spend time making out and get you worked up, and make you stop every time?”

“Geralt, can you look at me?” Jaskier’s heart broke as Geralt shook his head, staring intently at his wine where it rested on his knee. “Alright, that’s ok. But listen to me, alright? You don’t owe me sex. You don’t owe anyone sex. You don’t owe anyone an orgasm just because you kissed them and they got turned on. That’s a them problem. If anyone has ever told you that them being turned on by you means you owe them something, they’re a prick and I hope they get hit by a truck.”

This, at least, got a startled snort out of Geralt, who looked up tentatively. Jaskier fought the urge to reach for him, so beautiful and so vulnerable, and hold him close. “I guess it’s one of those things that’s easier to know than it is to believe. There are...a number of women I dated in college that Yen still thinks about tracking down and maiming every now and then. It’s still hard to believe her sometimes.”

“Well, if she needs a getaway driver, tell her to call me,” he exclaimed cheerfully, grateful for the opportunity to dispel the somber mood that had descended. “You know, this is not the conversation I thought I’d be having when I promised Triss I’d hear you out.”

Geralt barked a laugh, and smiled a little shyly. It should be illegal for him to make expressions like that, honestly. “You’re easy to talk to. It’s hard, with most people. Can talk with Yen, and my family, but that’s usually it. ‘s nice.”

Jaskier reined in the impulse to squeal into one of the throw pillows on the couch. “That’s one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me, dearheart. Even if this is certainly not my usual fare for a second date!”

Geralt lifted one lovely silver eyebrow. “This is our second date?”

“Well, just because you didn’t know we were on the first one, doesn’t mean I shouldn’t get to count it, don’t you think? That’s hardly fair,” Jaskier joked back, before a thought occurred to him and he sobered again. “Geralt, are you—is this what you want? I mean, you just ended what was, for all intents and purposes, a relationship that lasted the better part of a decade, and nearly became an engagement—what exactly are you looking for? Because I should warn you, I’ve done the casual thing, and I’m interested in something more serious, but the last thing I want is to take advantage of you.”

There was that wry little smile again. Jaskier wanted to kiss it off his face so much.

“Yen said the same. She threatened me if I used you as a rebound, which is pretty much as good as a declaration of everlasting friendship from her. I promise, this isn’t that. I talked to my therapist and everything before I texted you. I’m still not sure why you would want to date someone like me, but Yen and Triss were very insistent that I apologize and ask for another chance if I wanted one, and I do, so…”

Goodness, there was a lot to unpack in there. Jaskier had no idea he’d made such a favorable impression on Triss’s terrifying fiancée, but that was nice to know, at least. And he was glad Geralt had a therapist already, or he would have asked Borch for a recommendation at his appointment next week to pass along. But the rest...well, that just wouldn’t do. That wouldn’t do at all.

“Someone like you? You mean gorgeous and funny and interesting and successful? Someone like that? Because I can’t think of anyone I’d like to date more, to be honest with you.” Oh, there was that lovely blush again. Excellent.

“I meant more autistic, asexual, and enough of an idiot not to notice I was single for six years, actually.”

“Other than the part where you called yourself an idiot, which is obviously a lie, I don’t see a single red flag in that sentence. What about me? I’m a washed-up musician with ADHD who talks too much and has fucked too many people, getting paid barely minimum wage, living in a shitty flat in a city I moved to to escape my toxic ex. Am I not worth dating?”

The look of horrified outrage on Geralt’s face was flattering, at least. “No! Of course not! You’re beautiful, and funny, and kind, and you do amazing work helping refugee families, and your music is incredible! Anyone would be lucky to have you!”

Well, fuck, now it was Jaskier’s turn to blush. “You’ve heard my music?”

The obvious embarrassment on Geralt’s face was, frankly, unfairly endearing. “Yen showed me your Youtube before the double date. It’s. Nice,” he mumbled into his wine glass. Jaskier was absolutely sure he had cartoon hearts floating around his head by now.

“Alright, up.”

“What?”

“Up! Come on! Take my hands, darling.” Jaskier rose from the couch and bounced over to Geralt’s seat in the armchair, holding out his hands and making grabbing motions. Geralt stood more slowly, looking bemused, but grasped Jaskier’s hands gently in his own larger ones without complaint.

“Geralt Bartholomew Rivia, will you go on a romantic date, which will hopefully lead to a romantic relationship, with me, Julian Alfred Pankratz, called Jaskier?”

Geralt laughed, despite his obvious confusion. “My middle name isn’t Bartholomew.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes. “Immaterial. Answer the question, Geralt. I want to make sure there is absolutely no confusion, and we are both on the same page.”

Geralt’s lovely eyes twinkled like firelight and he smiled, small and genuine and gorgeous. “Yes, Jaskier, I will go on a romantic date with you.”

Jaskier grinned back, rocking forward to plant a kiss on the lovely blush still staining Geralt’s cheeks. “I’m thrilled to hear it, dearheart.”

#the witcher #twn #the witcher fanfiction #geraskier #yenralt #yentriss #geralt of rivia #yennefer of vengerberg #jaskier #dandelion #julian alfred pankratz #modern au #my writing #yall chapter 2 (jaskier pov) hasn't been edited at all #i didn't even do a readthrough for parts of it #sorry if it doesn't make sense lmao i'm sleeby

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