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pillage-and-lute · 3 years

Text

Eskel is a Fanboy

Inspired by this post.

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“What about you, pretty boy,” Lambert called across the hall. “Anything new this year.”

Eskel drank another sip of Lambert’s horrible vodka and looked at his brother. Geralt sat heavily on the bench in front of Kaer Morhen’s main fireplace.

“I got a bard,” he grunted.

Eskel, a lover of literature, perked up. “Exciting,” he said. “Must be nice.”

“Hmmm.”

Lambert snickered. “Geralt doesn’t like music, does he? Probably doesn’t even let the poor sod ride Roach.”

“He’s not allowed to touch Roach,” Geralt grumbled. Eskel and Lambert rolled their eyes.

“But you get a bard,” Eskel said. “You know, sings you songs, keeps you company...” light dawned on him. “Oh, Geralt, did your bard do Toss a Coin?”

Lambert groaned. “That damn song follows me everywhere, can’t get it out of my head, either.”

“It’s catchy,” Eskel said. “But I couldn’t find out the original author, so Geralt, tell us about your bard.”

“He’s an idiot.”

“Has to be to go about with you,” Lambert said.

“He’s lazy and vain and can’t keep his dick in his pants.”

Lambert grinned evilly. “Neither can Eskel, say, did you tell him about the succubus you fucked?”

“Not important,” Eskel said hurriedly. “Geralt, you get extra coin, music, a reputation boost, and companionship, what is your deal?”

“He’s annoying.”

“Is he a bad singer?”

Geralt shrugged. “Don’t think so, don’t care. Can’t get rid of him and he sort of...” Geralt moved his shoulders awkwardly. “Grows on you. Like a tumor.”

Eskel snorted. “Does this tumor have a name?”

“Jaskier.”

Eskel stilled. “The bard Jaskier?”

“...yes?”

“Oxenfurt’s best poet? Wrote his first poetry collection at 14 and it’s still considered unmatched by many academics? That Jaskier?”

“I guess.”

“You mean you don’t know!” Eskel leapt to his feet. “Geralt he’s a visionary! His latest epic nearly brought me to tears! I couldn’t stop reading it!”

Geralt shrugged. Eskel could have torn out his own hair.

“How on Melitele’s great green Earth did you get Jaskier the Bard to follow you! You don’t even like music! Have you read any of his poetry? At all?”

“He asks my opinion sometimes.”

Lambert snickered, he was enjoying this. “Bet that’s as useful as a knitted sword, eh Geralt?”

Eskel threw his head back. “The greatest young poet in the last thirty years is asking your opinion on his work! Melitele wept, Geralt! You’ve got a diamond in your pocket and you’re treating it like coal!”

“His song is really catchy,” Lambert threw in. “And you know, I think I have heard of him, quite the looker, right?”

“Hmmm,” Geralt said. It sounded almost guilty.

“Oh!” Eskel said. “You think he’s pretty! That’s it isn’t it! You have a great artist at your beck and call and you’re keeping him around ‘cause he’s got a pretty face!”

“Not keeping him,” Geralt grunted, studying his vodka carefully. “Want ‘im gone.”

Lambert smirked cruelly. “That’s fine, just meet up with me, he can travel at my side. Be nice to have a traveling companion with a...talented tongue.”

Geralt growled.

“Let him come with me,” Eskel said, catching on. “I’d love some company, and I have questions. I hope he’s willing to sing me the love song he wrote last year.”

“Tell me Geralt, can you toss a coin and bounce it off that ass?”

“He and I could talk about literature, I hope he’d write me poetry.”

“He’s not going away with anyone!” Geralt yelled.

Lambert smirked at Eskel. “Whoops, looks like we struck a nerve.”

Eskel slurped some vodka obnoxiously. “You know, I think you’re right Lamb.”

“What’s wrong, Pretty Boy, afraid we’ll steal your bard?”

“It’d make so much more sense for him to travel with me,” Eskel said. “I mean, kindred spirits and all.”

“I’d let him ride with me on my horse,” Lambert said, slyly. “Bet it’d be nice to have a pretty bard with his arms around me.”

“You know, Lamb,” Eskel said. “I heard he’s as talented a lover as he is a poet.”

“Bet he’s got clever fingers, all that lute strumming...” Lambert mused, mirth shining in his eyes. Geralt looked like he’d swallowed a wyvern egg whole.

“I’d treat him better,” Eskel said. “I wouldn’t call him lazy, and I’d let him ride with me. We could stay in inns.”

Lambert cut in. “Only one bed of course. Famous poet like him, he deserves to be spoiled. I’d buy him all sorts of pretty things. Be nice to see him wearing a necklace I bought him.”

“You have a good eye,” Eskel said. “I’m sure he’d be dazzling. I’ve heard he’s generous too, and kind, although not so humble.”

Lambert snorted. “Why would he be humble? He’s the best.” Geralt looked maybe three seconds away from blowing his top.

“I bet he’s kind to his traveling partners,” Eskel said. “Probably helps set up camp and looks after them.”

“Clever fingers,” Lambert said, smirking. “Good for helping with wounds.”

Three...

“If he’s a bard I’m sure he has a good memory,” Eskel chimed in again. “Be helpful with potions.”

Two...

“Be more welcome in towns with him along too.”

One.

“ENOUGH!” Geralt howled. “I GET IT!”

“Get what, oh White Wolf?” Eskel said, innocently. He often got a reputation as the best behaved of the wolves, and it was true, but only because the bar was so low.

“I’ll treat him better,” Geralt muttered. “Just...please, Eskel, Lambert...don’t take my bard?”

Something a little soft and vulnerable shone in Geralt’s eyes.

“Awww, Wolfie,” Lambert cooed. “Don’t worry, I won’t take your bard and hurt your ickle feelings. Besides, I have a kitty all my own.”

Eskel rolled his eyes. “I dare you to call Aiden ‘kitty’ to his face. Anyway, Geralt, I won’t steal your bard either.”

Geralt let out a breath and looked about to say something but Eskel continued.

“On one condition.”

Geralt looked at him.

“Bring him to the keep? Please Geralt, you don’t understand I have so many questions. Do you think he’d sign my copy of his anthology?”

“Hmmm.”

#kaer morons #eskel #lambert #geralt #jaskier #the witcher #implied geraskier #fluffy #sort of #humor #eskel is a fanboy #he would make fanvids of Jaskier if he could #lambden mention

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seidenbros · 2 years

Note

Sorry for almost immediately requesting something new. But could I get "You bought me flowers?" "Yeah, well I noticed you'd seemed kinda down, so I wanted to cheer you up." with Jaskier x reader?

Thanks in advance once again! <3

-🌻

My dearest sunflower <3 I always love your requests, so don't worry about when you request something, because it makes me happy all the time. It just took some time for me to write this, because I couldn't cocentrate for longer than fifteen minutes or so. Life and work got in the way. And in the end... this went in a different direction than I had initially planned, because I'm a bit emotional at the moment, BUT I still like how this turned out, so I hope you do too <3

(I’m always happy to receive requests, so if you want to, send some in. If you need inspiration, here are some prompt lists )

Pairing: Jaskier x Reader Warnings: fluff I guess, maybe a bit of angst Word count: 1661

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For a couple of days now, you'd seemed lost in thought, distracted, but Jaskier couldn't tell why, and so far he hadn't asked, figuring that you'd come to him, talk to him like you always did. Whenever something was on your mind, you talked to him, valued his opinion. At the same time, you needed him, trusted him, which was something you'd built up over the years. Because of the time you'd spent together – and especially the time in a relationship, which had taken you some times to get there – he'd learned to read you like a book. Most of the time that was, but not right now. Right now, he was confused as to what had happened, what was weighing so heavy on your soul, that you didn't bring it up. Maybe he'd be able to get you to talk to him, but before that, he wanted to lift your mood a little bit. Or at least he wanted to try to achieve that, since he didn't know what was going on, and if it was something that he had done, he might not even be able to get you to smile until he figured out just what he'd done, but it was worth a try.

At least, he had a plan, and so he set out to go into town, told you to take a hot bath and do something for yourself, something to make you feel better, because it wasn't just that you were somewhere else with your thoughts, but you also seemed to be a little under the weather. Maybe, a hot bath would help you feel better, at least that's what Jaskier was hoping, because he was rather worried by now.

He took his time picking the right flowers to get you. Roses had never really been your thing, but you loved lillies, especially Calla Lillies. At his third stop, he was finally lucky to find them, and so he bought a whole bouquet. If that didn't cheer you up, he hoped that the wine he'd bought would work some magic along with the chocolate cake. Nothing better than flowers and chocolate to bring a smile to your face, right? He had his hopes up, when he got home. You were still in the bath, he could hear you humming in there. For a moment, he listened, but then a smile crept across his lips when he realised that you were humming one of his songs. Not just any melody, but one of the songs he'd shown you first before anyone else had heard just a single tune. Jaskier was grateful for your support, always had been, always would be, and that was just one more reason, why he wanted to see you happy.

You emerged from the bedroom wrapped in your robe, looking rather refreshed, there was even a smile on your lips. Your eyes landed on Jaskier, but then you saw the flowers. They were absolutely beautiful, but Jaskier had always had an eye for the beautiful things in life.

“You bought me flowers?” you asked, stepping closer, letting your fingertips brush the flower petals.

“Yeah, well I noticed you'd seemed kinda down, so I wanted to cheer you up.” Jaskier shrugged his shoulders, smiling sheepishly at you. He'd really thought that it was a good idea, that it would cheer you up, but when he saw tears well up in your eyes, he wasn't so sure anymore – and his worry only increased. “I'm sorry, darling, I didn't want to upset you!”

“It's not that...” you quickly said, shaking your head. No, he hadn't upset you, not at all, but it was such a sweet gesture that it made you cry, and you couldn't even say why exactly. He'd given you flowers and other gifts before, but right now, it was just a little too much for your heart to take, knowing that he was worrying about you, because you hadn't let him in on what was going on at the moment. You'd wanted to tell him, but then your own worries had started settling in, and you'd become detached, had been in your own world, because you'd needed to figure out what to do, what to say.

“Then what is it?” Gently, he took your hands in his, just holding them, because right now, he wasn't sure whether it was a good idea to pull you into a hug or not. He didn't want to overwhelm you any more than he already had. “Talk to me, Y/N. I'm sure we can figure it out together, whatever it is.”

His words warmed your heart, but they didn't manage to stop the tears from falling, no, they only increased them. “I'm sorry,” you whispered, laying your head against his shoulder, letting go of his hands, to wrap your arms around his middle. For a moment, he held you, gave you the support you needed, until your tears stopped. For a moment there, fear gripped him, because he didn't know what you were about to say. Your crying, your apologies, it almost seemed like you were about to break his heart, because you wanted to leave him.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” He slowly let go of you to frame your face with both his hands, wipe away your tears. “You know, you can talk to me about anything.”

“Yes,” you answered quietly, leaning into his touch for a moment, before you opened your eyes again and took a step back. This wouldn't be easy, which was why you'd put it off for a couple of days, because you'd needed to find the right words. You still didn't have them, but there was no way you would get out of this situation right now. In addition, it wouldn't help the matter at hand, if you walked out on him. “It's not that easy, Jask...”

Okay, by now, he was really sure that you were going to tell him, that this here, you two, wouldn't work out in the end, that he should get on with his life without you, that you were better off without him, but he tried to smile, tried to keep the mood light, because if he kept thinking about it, he'd crumble right here, right now. “Whatever it is, we'll figure it out.” He reached for your hand again, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Whether that was for you or for himself, he didn't really know.

“I'm pregnant,” you eventually blurted out. Jaskier looked at you, blinked once, twice, trying to comprehend what had just come out of your mouth, because he'd prepared for something entirely different. “And I was afraid to tell you, because I didn't know how you'd react, what you would think, because we've never talked about this, never mentioned children when we talked about our future. But I've seen you interact with kids, and it always warms my heart. You're so good with them, but that doesn't mean that you want kids yourself, I know that.”

“Y/N...”

“Or if you want kids right now, or if you'd rather travel some more. I completely understand if you don't want this child in your life, and if you'd rather leave I'd understand, but I've already grown to love this baby, and-”

“Y/N!” Jaskier's voice was louder now, more demanding than before, because you kept on talking. It was almost like you were catching up on all the words you hadn't said the last couple of days.

“What?”

“Breathe! You need to calm down and take a deep breath, and most importantly: let me get a word in, okay? I can't react to anything if you keep on talking like that.” His words were serious, but there was still a twinkle in his eye, the hint of a smile on his lips. You followed his instructions, took a few deep breaths, before you looked up into his eyes again. There was no fear to be seen, just simple adoration for you, which calmed your beating heart. “Here I thought you were going to tell me that you wanted to break up with me.”

“What? Why would you...” You stopped yourself, suddenly realising that your absent-minded behaviour could have led to him thinking that. “Oh...” You took a deep breath, rubbing a hand over your face and through your damp hair. “I would never want to leave you, but I thought you might want to do that with the new information...” That moment, you weren't able to look at him, too scared of what he would answer. You didn't want to bind him to you because you were with his child. The choice was his.

“Y/N look at me,” he pleaded, closing the gap between your two bodies again, cupping your face and tilting your head up so that you had to look at him. “I love you, and I would never leave you. This I great news!”

“Really?”

“Of course!” Jaskier gently brushed his thumb over your cheek, before he leaned down to kiss you. “We might have never talked about children, and I may not have thought about it for years, but ever since meeting you, I've found myself thinking of our own family.”

“You have?”

Jaskier had to chuckle at your words. “Don't look so surprised. There's still a lot we don't know about each other, but we have all the time in the world to learn that.” He wrapped his arms around you to hold you close, breathe in your scent and close his eyes. “This is going to be our own adventure,” he whispered into you ear, smiling to himself. He'd always loved adventures, had had a fair share of his own, but this... this was a different kind of adventure, one that he didn't want to miss out on for anything in the world.

#🌻 asks #anonymous asks #staffi writes #the witcher imagine #the witcher fanfic #the witcher #jaskier #jaskier imagine #jaskier fanfiction #jaskier x reader #jaskier x you #jaskier x y/n

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rebrandedbard · 3 years

Note

If you are still writing 14?

Okay so this one accidentally went from a drabble to an actual fic whoops. The cure is totally inspired by the Rapunzel fairy tale, spoiler alert, where the prince falls in the thorn bushes around the tower and Rapunzel’s tears fall into his eyes, curing him.

14. “Hey, I’m with you, okay? Always.”

wc: 4444 which is an awesome number I’m so happy lol

Robbed Blind

Someone botches a spell to steal Jaskier’s artistic vision and he’s cursed with blindness. Thankfully, he falls into the company of Ciri and Lambert. They journey safely to Kaer Morhen, but what could be the cure to his affliction?

She had found him, tripping over the strings of destiny, in Drakenborg. He’d been on his way to Oxenfurt when the curse took hold, and he had gone no further. Jaskier was haggard, gaunt, and looked quite worn. His hair lay flat from constant fussing. It was a habit Ciri remembered well from his visits, always combing a nervous hand through his hair before a performance. She had never seen it look so lifeless. He needed a mirror, she thought. She would soon realize that a mirror would serve him no purpose.

He was blind. He startled when she ran to him, throwing her arms around his waist. She’d been so relieved to see a friendly face that she’d run right into his arms, nearly knocking him from the stool in the corner of the tavern. Why should he not catch her as he’d always done? He’d been looking directly at her; she thought he’d merely not recognized her beneath the mud and hood.

“Let me go! Who are you? Stop—stop this now or I’ll give you such a wallop, I’ll—!”

“Jaskier!” Ciri cried, shocked. She flinched away from him as he elbowed her roughly against her temple. She rubbed the spot, standing out of reach.

Jaskier straightened up at once. “Is that—? Little cub, is that you?” he asked. He turned his head as if searching for her and reached out a hand, feeling the air. It was nowhere near.

Ciri took his hand. During their long weeks of travel, she refused to let it go again. She became his eyes, and together they started for Oxenfurt and the safety of its halls.

He’d woken up blind one day, he explained. No warning or explanation. The mage had told him what magic was at play. Someone had tried to steal his artistic vision and the enchantment had gone wrong, stealing from him his very sight.

“Is there not a cure?” Ciri asked.

Jaskier shook his head. “The mage said it was a botched spell. There’s no telling what will fix it, only that it must have something to do with artistic vision. The mage suggested it might be cured by the old methods: kisses and the like; gazing upon true beauty.”

He squinted and took her face between his hands. “I’m looking and looking at you as hard as I can, and I remember you were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen when you were first born. So what do mages know? Have you become a pox-faced adolescent or scraggly Medusa? Ah,” he chuckled, “but you’d still be a fairytale princess in my eyes if you had the face of a basilisk.”

She laughed and squirmed out of his hands. “You were always very good at Blind Man’s Bluff. Do you remember when we used to play it? Back then, you were always stumbling; you aren’t stumbling as much anymore.”

“I’ve grown used to it, I suppose. But you are a princess—do you suppose a kiss from you might cure me? How are you with frogs? Ever wake a sleeping prince?”

“No, but we may try it. There’s magic in me of a sort, I know. Here, kneel a moment.”

Jaskier knelt on the dry road and closed his eyes, tapping the lid. “Right here. Give it a go,” he said encouragingly. “If it doesn’t work, we’ll practice on a frog and work our way up.”

Ciri kissed both eyes to be sure. “Alright. Open them. Do you see anything?”

She tried not to get her hopes up, watching Jaskier squeeze his eyes tight. He opened them, blinked several times, and gave her a sad smile.

“Not to worry, we’ll find a pond in no time,” he joked, trying to keep the mood light.

“Well! I go to find a cat and find a lioness instead. And a songbird. Must be my lucky day.”

Ciri put herself between the stranger and Jaskier, waving a large branch in warning. “Keep away,” she growled. “If you come any closer, I’ll scream.”

The scruffy man put his hands up and grinned. “I’ve heard what sort of screaming runs in your family. Trust me, I would rather not be around for one of them. Heard it knocked pretty boy flat on his back at your mother’s little Surprise party.”

Jaskier put a hand on Ciri’s shoulder. “Wait a moment,” he said. “I know that moniker. Geralt complained of it before.” He was quiet a moment, stirring up a memory. Then, he lit up, asking excitedly, “Did you say you were looking for a cat? A cat witcher, by chance?”

“Why? Find one up a tree?” the stranger pressed.

Jaskier patted Ciri’s shoulder and strode forward, extending a hand. “You must be Lambert! I’ve heard—” his hand buckled against Lambert’s chest, his stride clearing the distance too quickly “—oh, my apologies. I’ve heard about you before. I was hoping to see you under better circumstances if I ever got the chance. Or to see you at all, really. Damnable timing.”

Lambert looked at him, then took his hand. Ciri watched as the understanding settled in, for Jaskier was staring straight at the man’s forehead, a near lucky guess of his eye line. Lambert wore an expression of pity freely, knowing Jaskier could not see it, though his tone was light and cocky as before. “I always wondered what you saw in that sourpuss, following him as long as you did; now I know you didn’t see anything after all,” he joked.

Jaskier snorted. “It’s new.”

“Ah, so you’ve been blinded by love, have you?”

Jaskier flapped his hand until he felt the brush of Ciri’s sleeve at his side, then he tugged her forward and presented her. He cleared his throat, a tad flushed. “May I introduce Her Royal Highness, Princess Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, the Lion Cub of Cintra. Geralt’s child Surprise.”

Ciri tossed her branch aside. “You know Geralt,” she said.

“They’re brothers.”

Lambert sneered. “He got all the looks, Eskel got the talent, but I got the brains.”

“What little there were to be had,” Jaskier added.

“Oh, ho! You’ll fit right in at the keep, talking like that.”

There was a pregnant pause between the three of them. Jaskier nudged Ciri gently forward. “She’ll be safe there. And her wit is more cutting than mine.”

Ciri turned at once to protest. “But what about Ox—”

“And so would you,” Lambert cut in. “A dull knife and a dull wit can be sharpened, and I’d rather keep two knives in my belt than one, whatever their make. Don’t start that maudlin shit with me; you’re coming along.”

Jaskier opened his mouth to protest and Lambert raised a hand. Then, realizing how ineffective that was against one who could not see it, he recovered and smacked the side of Jaskier’s head to shut him up before he started.

“Come on; it’s a long and dull road we have ahead of us, and you’re my entertainment. I want to hear every embarrassing story you can supply. I’ve long run out of blackmail and I’m in need of fresh material. Besides, what better bait for a cat than a twittering bird? If you sing loud enough, we might pick him up along the way.”

They were all together in the great hall when at last he came. The figure stood in the doorway, a black dot against the stark white of winter outside. A pair of bags dropped with a thundering bang upon the floor, the sound echoing throughout the room, and the figure bundled up by the fire started awake in fright.

Jaskier patted the blanket beside him, made frantic by his sudden awakening. “Ciri? Ciri!” he called, for she had been asleep next to him what seemed only moments ago.

She paused only a moment to stare at the imposing figure in the light. Something in her shouted, compelling her to go to him. But Jaskier called for her in that voice wrought with panic once more. She flew from the circle of wolves to his side, abandoning her hand of cards, disregarding the man of destiny at the door.

“I’m here,” she said, taking his hands. “Hey, I’m with you, okay? Always. I’m not going anywhere.” She and the others looked at each other, looked at Geralt, and said not a word.

Jaskier settled and took a deep breath. “I heard something crash. I dreamed—but never mind that.” He sighed, pressing his head to their joined hands. “I’m sorry. I know it’s safe here. I’m just not used to you wandering off just yet.”

“I know.” She stroked his hair gently. It was soft again, though not as silky as before. Lambert and Eskel had drawn him a bath for the first time in a long while, but he had not his customary soaps and oils. He was … less bright, his appearance dulled with his mood.

Vesemir had examined him. Countless hours, the wolves had huddled together in the old library, trying to find a cure for Jaskier’s condition to no avail. As time went by, the reality of his situation weighed on Jaskier. He could no longer read his notebook, nor write his music to be remembered. Ciri read his notes aloud and studied the art so she might transcribe them for him, but it was obvious how he felt.

“I don’t want to be a burden,” he’d said.

And now he gave her that same false smile, the one that failed to meet his eyes. She missed the lines in the corners and wished they might come back. Perhaps they’d flown off with the crows, frightened of the winter snow.

“Go back to your game,” he whispered. “I’ll head up to bed.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” she offered.

He shook his head. “I know the way now. If someone will take me to the stairwell?” he prompted, raising a hand.

Ciri looked at Geralt. There was so little she knew of him—stories and songs … words spared in rumors and stolen from conversations where she lingered unnoticed to listen. What she knew of the wolf and bard she had pieced together with care. For all the tales Jaskier would tell, he would not disparage Geralt before her, and he would not tell the story of the dragon hunt. But dwarves talk. Stories travel and lesser bards would imitate the songs of greater. Witchers collect news of other witchers, and two adults would speak as adults when ale made easy speech. Jaskier had confided in Lambert those tearing words once flung at him upon the mountain. And thus she had put the final piece into place of the great mystery between them.

‘If life could give me one blessing…’

“Who will take him?” she asked. She kept Geralt’s eyes as she rose to her feet. “Who will take him into his hands?”

It was only the barest movement, but she swore she saw the wolf of legend flinch.

Jaskier sat up with a huff. “You make it sound so dramatic. Are we playing at a quest now? Very well, who is my knight errant? The princess has thus decreed a quest is in order: a quest up the perilous tower steps, my-my! Such a task!”

“I should think a white knight is the one suited best for the task,” Vesemir grunted. He shuffled his hand, eyes narrowed at Geralt.

The white knight in question let his cloak fall. He shook the snow from his arms and dusted them slowly, looking at each watching face in turn. His hesitation was clear. When none moved to claim Jaskier, he stepped forward cautiously. Without a word, he took Jaskier’s hand and lifted him to his feet.

Jaskier clapped an arm around his shoulder, hands patting the edge of his long hair. “Ah, thank you, Vesemir,” he said. His hand slipped from Geralt’s armour and he made a face, flicking his wet hand in the air. He prodded the armour curiously. “You’re soaked; I thought you said you’d sent Eskel for the firewood.” He prodded again and bumped against Geralt’s shoulder pad. He pinched it between his fingers, figuring out its shape. He hummed curiously. “What are you wearing? Did you go hunting?”

Geralt stared. Jaskier was not looking at him. Geralt looked at the circle of men by the fireside and there sat Vesemir in silence, watching. He was struck dumb. What … game was this?

“A knight needs a knight’s armour,” Lambert called.

Jaskier laughed. “Oh, of course. Such a soft touch; did you get all dressed up for Ciri? Have I woken in the middle of a game?”

Eskel tossed a card in the middle of the circle. “Yes,” he answered, “but we’ve just started on another, different game.”

“Very cold and calculated,” Ciri agreed.

“Cold and calculated. So a snowball fight has become a snowball war, no doubt born of the most complicated strategies. Shame on the lot of you. You ought to let your elders warm themselves before sending them on tasks. You’re young; you’ve got legs,” Jaskier scolded.

“It was his idea,” Eskel replied.

Vesemir nodded, keeping silent as the game unravelled.

Jaskier looped his arm through Geralt’s and stood straight and tall in an affected manner. “Come, my good knight,” he said, “and let us bid good night to these slacking youths.”

He started to walk in the general direction of the stair, Geralt turning them with truer aim. Geralt looked over his shoulder at the others, frowning. This was not the sort of confrontation he expected when next he saw Jaskier. If he ever saw him. And here was his child Surprise in their midst without a word of greeting or explanation, and the bard, the two of them together and settled within the walls of the keep.

It was too perplexing for him to puzzle out. And Jaskier was acting strangely. Where were his speeches? Geralt had expected him to argue on sight, or else to pretend all was right and greet him, “Geralt! How good to see you,” or, “Fancy meeting you here,” and play off the mountain like it never happened. Or at the very least to ignore him. But to call him Vesemir and take to his arm? What joke was he playing at?

The answer came as Jaskier dodged the first step and nearly fumbled upon the stair. He clung to Geralt’s arm with a cry and his other hand shot out to grope the wall. He flailed for it, feeling his way from the step outward, then sliding his hand up the side of it. He turned his head, looked at Geralt and laughed. “I’m still not used to these uneven steps,” he said. “Give me time and I’ll be able to find my way around unassisted. By next week, I’ll be able to navigate every pool in the hot springs, then you four will never see me fully dressed again!”

Geralt raised a hand to Jaskier’s face. He rested a thumb just beneath his eye. They were as blue as ever, nothing seemed amiss, and yet …

Jaskier’s smile weakened. He closed his eyes and pushed the hand away. “I know the three of you are working hard to find a cure. I know the jokes fall flat. But I must make them. If I don’t … Vesemir, if I can’t make light of it, the darkness I see will be all I have left.”

He turned toward the stair again, hand firm on Geralt’s arm, the other on the wall. “Right then. Up we go. Just one at a time,” he said. He stepped tentatively forwards, prodding his foot before him until he nudged the base of the first step. “Got it. First is always hardest, isn’t it?”

They carried on. Two steps, three, one after the other slowly. They were uneven by design: a final defense against those who would try to invade their stronghold. The spiral stair favored those who walked it every day, gave advantage to the men who would be at the top, swinging their swords to fight back those who would dare trespass unwitting. It was difficult enough for any stranger with sight. With Jaskier, it was a quest in itself.

Midway up, Geralt thought to carry him. They were going so slowly; it would have been easiest that way. He nearly offered, but stopped. If he spoke, Jaskier would know him. He began to reach an arm out to simply lift him, but Jaskier fumbled once more, his knee hitting the step with a mumbled curse. And Geralt heard him muttering through his teeth as he crouched upon the stair.

“I will learn,” he hissed. “This will not stop me. I refuse to be a burden to anyone. Never again.” He touched his forehead to the step and Geralt put a hand to his back. He was trembling.

When Jaskier rose again, he did not take Geralt’s arm. He reached out and took hold of the wall on either side, arms stretched wide to hold himself up. He proceeded to climb the stair alone. When Geralt reached out to help, Jaskier waved him away.

“No,” he whispered. “We’re nearly at the top. Just let me do this much. Please.”

And Geralt let his hand fall away.

Jaskier reached the landing with a powerful stomp, expecting a final step. He breathed a sigh of relief and sagged against the right wall. Geralt followed behind and patted his shoulder. Small congratulations. From there, Jaskier walked down the corridor, tapping when he came upon a wooden door. He passed three, tapped each with his knuckles, counting. When he reached the forth door, he opened it. In this space, he walked with ease away from the wall. He flopped confidently upon the bed and rested a moment as one does after a long journey.

He shucked off his doublet and loosened the laces of his boots. He set these aside at the very foot of the bed where they might easily be found again. He undid the back lace of his trousers, paused, and inclined his head toward the door.

“Are you still there, Vesemir?” he asked.

Geralt did not know how to respond. He stood fixed in the doorway, but dropped his eyes to his feet modestly. After a moment’s wait, Jaskier finished undressing and climbed beneath the heavy furs. A memory stirred—that was not the final task of the evening. What was the last of their routine each night? What was left undone that made this finality seem so abrupt? Geralt realized it in the darkness of the room. He had no candle to blow out.

The truth struck Geralt sharp as a blade to his gut. He stole through the door, walking quietly toward the bed. He sat on the edge, the furs rumpled beneath him, and listened to Jaskier’s breathing. He was not yet asleep—would never be, so soon—but he did not stir.

Geralt took his hand gently.

Jaskier squeezed it back.

“I only wish that had not been the last I’d seen of him,” Jaskier whispered. “I try to remember his smile now. For all my poetry, I can’t remember it clearly. His smiles were so rare, but I don’t suppose you need me to tell you. Or perhaps you do. I don’t know if he smiled here; I know nothing his life in this place. Were you so fortunate that they were commonplace?”

Silent footsteps creeped up the stair. Ciri had waited long enough to follow. Geralt heard no sign of her under the ringing words of Jaskier’s speech. Though he spoke no louder than the breath of the wind, every last syllable echoed like a clap of thunder in his ears.

Jaskier slipped his hand free and turned on his pillow, hugging it close. “I wish I might at least see Ciri now, know how she’s grown. They change so quickly at that age. Does she look like her mother? Does she look like him? Destiny makes strange things of those it touches. She was beginning to look like him, I once thought.”

She saw him well enough, looking through the open door. She crouched behind the wall, listening as she always did in secret, for the things he would not burden her with.

“I always did wonder what you looked like. Geralt spoke once to me of his brothers, his mentor. You’re still stories to me in ways. I know you have long hair, grey with age. I know Lambert is shorn, Eskel is shaggy. I know your voices, your height, and a hundred other things. But do you share his eyes? What color is the armour you wear? How does the sun set over the mountainside? The carpets before the hearth—what pattern is woven there? What thousands of stories do you keep in that library? What do the monsters look like illustrated in the great bestiary?”

He buried his face in his pillow. His voice was muffled, but both Geralt and Ciri could hear the husk in it. “I won’t feel sorry for myself. It doesn’t mean anything—just idle curiosity. It doesn’t matter how the carpet is woven or if you wear brown shirts or red. I’ve seen a lifetime of sunrises and sunsets and stars. I don’t want them!” he barked. He writhed on the bed, his face falling from the pillow, stained with tears. “I don’t! I never needed them, not one! I don’t care—I don’t! None of them are important!”

Geralt rushed forward and took Jaskier in his arms. Jaskier struggled, beating at his chest, and refused to be coddled. “No!” he wailed. “Don’t comfort me, I don’t need it! I don’t want it! I will not be pitied!” But for his hard words, he clung to Geralt’s armour, sobbing against his shoulder. “It’s unnecessary. It’s just a bunch of poetry. Useless poetry and songs.”

Jaskier pulled away, Geralt’s hands trailing from his back to his shoulders as he sat up. Geralt held him there before he could retreat more. Before he could think twice of it, Geralt leaned in, his hands cupping Jaskier’s face on either side.

“Vese—”

Something warm and wet fell onto Jaskier’s lashes. He heard a shaky breath, felt the warmth of it upon his face. Another hot tear fell into his other eye and he blinked in surprise, for it was not his own. He sat perfectly still in shock, blinking the falling tears away.

“They were never useless,” Geralt said. “They were always important—all of them.”

Jaskier twitched, raising his head by instinct up to look at the man who held him now. “You were—!”

“I’m sorry. For not speaking before. For … not speaking then. After. And for saying what I did that day.” He wiped the tears beneath Jaskier’s eyes away, an expression of pain twisting his hollowed features. “If I’d not sent you away—I don’t know what’s become of you, but I might have—I could have tried to prevent it. You would still have your sight.”

Jaskier covered Geralt’s hands. “No, Geralt. This is none of your doing. You can’t—”

A loud bump from the hall startled him. Jaskier turned at once to look.

“Ciri,” he breathed.

Ciri had a finger to her mouth and was glaring up at a tall man. They both cowed back, being caught. Jaskier looked between them as Geralt’s hands slipped away. He stood, walking toward them. He looked at Ciri, gaping, their eyes perfectly aligned. Jaskier fell to his knees before her and took her hands without fumbling.

“Ciri,” he said. “You’re so … my good gods, you’ve grown.”

All were still as he reached out, touching her face as though she were made of glass. He smoothed her hair away, taking all of her in. He laughed, new tears falling as he pulled her close and crushed her in his arms. “You’re so beautiful!” he cried. He stroked her hair, cradling her against him as tight as he dared. “And you!” He looked up at the witcher in the hall, reaching out to him and taking his hand. “Which one are you? Say something now, quickly. Let me hear your voice and know you.”

“Eskel,” he answered. And then Jaskier was up on his feet, pulling him into another embrace.

“Eskel!” Jaskier cheered. “Eskel, you look even more heroic than I ever imagined! Oh, let me look at you. Oh, oh! Lambert! Vesemir! Where are you, come forward!”

He dashed into the hall, only to turn on his heel for another look at Eskel, for just one more eyeful of Ciri. Over her shoulder, he saw Geralt sitting there on the bed, his yellow eyes wide, the tears still clinging to his chin.

“Oh,” Jaskier whispered. “Oh, I see. I see.”

He walked forward, gliding a hand beneath Geralt’s jaw. He touched his eyes with his other hand. Carefully, he wiped the last of Geralt’s tears away. It dangled, a little drop at the tip of his finger and he brought it close. He closed his hands around it, cradled them to his chest.

Geralt stood slowly before him. And he smiled.

Ciri tugged at Jaskier’s shirt, her head turned away politely. She cleared her throat and said, “Jaskier? Lambert and Vesemir are on their way up. And you’re … well, you’re not at your most presentable.”

Eskel averted his eyes, his back turned to the scene, however touching. “You might want to get a bit more dressed. And quickly,” he added, for Jaskier was standing in his smallclothes.

Jaskier snorted. “All of you, turn away for decency’s sake! We’re having a moment, here.”

“And what about me?” Geralt asked. “Shall I look away?”

It was nothing but empty jest and Jaskier smiled. “No,” he replied. “No, you’re looking where you’re needed. But I suppose to be fair …”

He clapped a hand over Geralt’s eyes. He leaned forward, whispering against Geralt’s lips. “There. Now no one can see. No one … but me.”

There were no witnesses to that first kiss. It was a secret Jaskier kept for himself.

However, the second, third, and forth had quite a startled audience, as Geralt and Jaskier both fell deaf to the clatter of footsteps in the hall. Ciri took it upon herself to usher the others from the room, explaining on the way. After all, with the curse lifted, she no longer needed to be Jaskier’s eyes. His mouth, however, was currently occupied.

Send me a drabble prompt!

#my fic #drabbles #witcher #the witcher #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #cirilla fiona elen riannon #lambert #eskel #vesemir #I'd tag aiden but he's really only mentioned in passing #ew I came back to look at this and the scene breaks did not transfer over #fixed it now

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samstree · 3 years

Text

Hug a Witcher Day (4/4)

In which Geralt makes plans, but everything goes wrong.

(geraskier, 4.7k, hurt/comfort, sick jaskier, love confessions, first kiss, second kiss, cuddling, geralt talks about his feelings!)

This story ends here. Remember to give your local witchers a hug!

AO3, previous: [1] [2] [3]

Loving someone is unbearable, Geralt has recently realized.

In the big medical camp, when they can only sleep with hundreds of healers and patients in one big room, their single beds are arranged next to each other in parallel. The night renders the place pitch dark and Geralt is the only one still capable of seeing anything.

Geralt watches Jaskier drift off the moment his head hits the pillow, his breathing calm and his heart slowing.

The bard is tired, but he’s safe.

Geralt watches for a few more moments longer and, gradually, a warm pool of fuzziness begins to gather in his stomach again. He revels in it, in the feeling of loving Jaskier.

He reaches out a hand towards the bard and stops at the edge of the bed, a mere foot away from Jaskier’s sleeping form. The steady rhythm of Jaskier’s human heart lulls Geralt into oblivion but his hand remains there, so close and yet so far away.

That’s how Jaskier wakes Geralt in the morning, with a brush of knuckles, a gentle squeeze on his wrist and a soft, bleary smile. His brown hair is sleep-rumpled and there’s a long pillow crease on his cheek, and Geralt almost blurts it out on the spot.

Loving someone is unbearable.

Loving someone while not telling them is even worse.

But Geralt will tell Jaskier one day. A witcher can’t afford to be a coward. He didn’t get through the worst trials only to be intimidated by a simple human bard. No, the reason he can’t voice those three words is only…bad timing. Jaskier has been through too much in the span of just a few seasons, and yet his smiles are still flowing with patience; he persists with the gentleness that is so distinctly Jaskier .

Geralt won’t weigh Jaskier down, not until they can pack their bags and leave this city.

And they do.

The end of summer brings the first chill in the air, and Geralt finally leads Roach out of the gates of Vizima. Jaskier follows not far behind with the lute on his back and a spring in his steps.

It all feels like a dream when Geralt remembers being cooped up in one place and isolated from the world, but he walks out of the city as a new man. The love flowing through his veins is the tangible proof of his change of heart.

“Roach must be dying to stretch her legs, don’t you think?” the bard offers when Geralt mounts the mare, her gait anxious.

“Catch up to me?” Geralt asks.

“Always.”

The corners of Jaskier’s eyes crinkle and the sun spills down his hair and threads it with gold. With a gentle nudge, the mare takes off eagerly. The bard’s silhouette grows more distant and Geralt gives up on hiding the lovestruck grin on his face.

For a long time, Geralt anticipates he will tell Jaskier in the most dramatic, world-ending way.

After all, the bard does everything so dramatically and world-endingly that anything related to him should deserve the same treatment. Geralt reckons even if he tries to keep it down, Jaskier will find a way to make it the grandest scene there is.

Geralt thinks about doing it in Dol Blathanna, a poetic symmetry to their first meeting that the bard will certainly wax poetic about. The idea churns for two days and suddenly he realizes how terrible it is. The fall will soon render the valley of flowers barren and they’ll just be standing on rocky ground.

So Geralt turns his eyes to the north, where Kaer Morhen must be hiding behind the mountains. Within the walls of the ancient keep, there’s a tower just next to their training yard that he has spent so many sleepless nights in. Standing on top of that tower and watching the stars and northern lights might be the rare moments when he’s truly at peace. It’s when he’s at home.

He silently decides on taking Jaskier home for the winter.

“Why are you taking us this far north, Geralt? Urgh, and why do you have to push me like this? You truly have no pity for me.”

The bard sits on his bedroll and rubs at his eyes at dawn, his face scrunched up with displeasure.

“Hmm.”

In his mind’s eye, Geralt can almost see Jaskier’s face when he steps into Kaer Morhen for the first time, the bard raving about all the songs the ancient keep could inspire and exploring the place with wonderment. He can see the way Jaskier’s eyes would light up under the night sky at the sight of those colorful lights, awestruck and gleaming.

If Geralt was any other man, he would be giddy with anticipation.

And perhaps, that’s why he doesn’t see it when sickness creeps up on Jaskier in the most unexpected way.

Surviving a terrible plague and falling ill right after sounds way too anticlimactic. Jaskier would be disappointed in a twist like this if it’s in a story. It never even crosses Geralt’s mind that Jaskier’s increased complaining is a result of discomfort, of months’ exhaustion silently building up. It never occurs to him that Jaskier, now with his waist and shoulders thinner, might need to take more breaks on the road and wear more layers on harsher days.

An autumn storm catches them off guard and that’s all it takes.

“You got lucky. There’s only one room left.” The man behind the desk throws a pitying look at the bard, dripping on the creaky floor and swaying on his feet. “The rest are all booked for the festival.”

Geralt pays no mind to his remarks. His world narrows down to getting Jaskier into a warm room and stripping him of these wet clothes. He has no choice but to replace them with one of Geralt’s dark shirts—the bard has never been good at keeping his pack dry.

Now Jaskier is shivering under the covers and groaning like a dying animal. His hair is damp from the residual rain and cold sweat, his frame drowning in the too-large tunic.

“Can you light the fire, Geralt?” Jaskier asks through chattering teeth. The blanket is slipping from his shoulders, the open collar exposing a patch of skin and sending a chill down his body. Geralt wraps the blanket tighter around him and looks puzzled at the roaring flame in the hearth.

“It is on. Can’t you see it?” Geralt frowns, confused.

Jaskier’s eyes focus on somewhere far away. The dazed expression lingers for way too long before his head turns to the fireplace. “Oh.”

The worry in Geralt’s stomach grows heavier. He feels for Jaskier’s forehead and lets out a curse when his palm meets burning skin.

“You are feverish.” Geralt continues to wipe away the sweat gathering at the bard’s hairline. “Damn it, Jaskier. Why didn’t you say something?”

The bard leans into Geralt’s cooler touch instinctively. “Well, if you learned one thing about bards, Geralt, you should know that we can’t predict the weather.”

“No.” Frustration seeps into Geralt’s voice. He lets out a scowl. “Why didn’t you tell me you were sick? You must have been feeling terrible for days if you have a fever like this. Jaskier…”

Geralt breathes out his name and finds anger rising, but not towards the bard. He’s angry with himself, for neglecting Jaskier’s comfort in favor of furthering his stupid plan, for not seeing what’s right in front of him. Jaskier staggering on his feet in the pouring rain stirred up some old fear in Geralt, the fear that hasn’t left him since the day he stepped into Oxenfurt in the spring.

“I guess it didn’t even cross my mind,” Jaskier explains, his voice small and unsure. “We just survived something unimaginable, my dear. I was so excited to go out again. It’s you and—”

Jaskier is rudely interrupted by a coughing fit. The violent wheezing wracks his lungs, causing him to fall forward in a struggle. Geralt catches his limp body in a frenzy and Jaskier ends up with his forehead on Geralt’s shoulder to ride it out, his too-warm breaths fanning over the skin of Geralt’s skin.

“It’s you and me against the world,” Jaskier finally croaks as Geralt helps him sit against the pillows. “All the adventures we missed, think about them. I was just…excited.”

Geralt finds himself kneeling on the bed and a hand’s breadth away from Jaskier’s face, his cheeks worryingly flushed. He looks down to adjust the blanket again to make sure the bard is completely bundled up.

“Excited? And you couldn’t even tell you were sick?”

At least the bard is looking contrite.

“I thought I was just out of shape, with all the pain in my joints and my back. Ugh.” Jaskier squirms in the sea of pillows, adjusting to find better support. “I suppose you don’t have anything for it? A whole bag of witcher potions and none for humans—”

“I—” Geralt splutters. “I’ll, um, get you some willow bark. And a sleeping draught.”

He gets off the bed in one swift motion and works under Jaskier’s curious gaze. The bard is entranced by Geralt’s movement as he boils the water and prepares the tea that he’s been carrying around and replenishing for years.

Blue eyes remain inscrutable as Geralt strains out the shredded bark and scoops a spoonful of honey in the steaming water. He brings the cup to Jaskier’s bed as well as a tincture of sleeping potion.

The bard lets go of the blanket in favor of the cup. He takes a sip and lets out a soft sigh. The honey should be soothing his throat, and it counters the bitterness of the willow bark as well. Geralt leaves him to finish the tea and goes to retrieve his cloak. The thick garment is now completely dry and toasty thanks to the fire, so he gathers it and puts it over Jaskier’s lap.

The bard hands Geralt the empty cup, uncorks the tincture, and downs the greenish liquid.

“ Urgh. Why do all sleeping draughts taste so dreadful?” He grimaces, sticking out his tongue. “Should’ve saved some of the honey.”

“You need more?”

Geralt is ready to fish out the jar again but a hand resting on his elbow stops him.

“Don’t waste it, Geralt. I know how much honey costs.”

“It’s not a waste,” Geralt insists.

Geralt sinks back down into the mattress and suddenly Jaskier’s palm on his arm is burning a hole into his bones, and it’s not because of the fever.

“Because you bought it for me?” Jaskier’s gaze grows intense, the question phrased like a statement, like the bard has never been more sure of anything else. “You keep a jar of honey in your pack and only put it in our water after I sing for a whole night. You carry fresh willow bark for my headache—gods know it’s too weak for your metabolism. You have sleeping potions for humans.”

All statements should feel accusatory, but something is brewing like a storm under Jaskier’s unwavering eyes.

Geralt’s ears heat up in the too-warm room. He wants to get as far away from Jaskier as possible to avoid feeling so exposed. It’s almost like Jaskier has stripped him bare and left his heart in the open.

“It’s nothing.”

And that’s the wrong thing to say.

“What? No.” Distress overtakes those blue eyes. “Geralt, you take care of me. You have been taking care of me for years. How can it be nothing? Even just in Vizima, you stayed for me and you were there for me—”

“I wouldn’t just leave you there, Jask.” Geralt says defensively. The bard truly is burning with a mad fever if he thinks Geralt could ever leave him.

A sad smile spreads across Jaskier’s face.

“I know. And that’s the problem, isn’t it?” he answers, half to himself, which makes Geralt all the more confused. He covers Jaskier’s hand resting on his arm and squeezes gently for the bard to continue.

“It’s been three years, Geralt. It’s been three years since that night. Do you still remember? It was the night before we had to part for the winter, and it was so cold. I couldn’t even get my teeth to stop chattering and you insulted my choice of wear, as you do.” The bard rolls his eyes. “I fell asleep in shivers and woke up warm with all my toes still intact. Miraculously.”

Jaskier slips his hand out of Geralt’s before threading their fingers together, his other hand running up and down the cloak on his lap. “You had given me your cloak during the night so I wouldn’t freeze. And when I turned around, you were just…there. Lying on your bedrolls, cloakless, sleeping, and so far away.”

Geralt stares at Jaskier’s dazed expression and the melancholy at the corners of his mouth and senses his languid heartbeat pick up. He remembers that night, but it was nothing out of the ordinary. Why Jaskier thinks it was anything of significance is baffling.

“That was the moment for me. That morning, right before we parted for a whole season, was when it hit me. I—Geralt, I wanted to tell you then, but I was too much of a coward, so I sent you away without knowing.”

Tell me what?

The question dies in Geralt’s throat. Instead, habit compels him to deflect. “But you were cold.”

Jaskier’s eyes are gleaming in the warm candlelight, wide and earnest.

“It’s what you do, Geralt. You save me from monsters and rude patrons. You tolerate my faults and you compel me to do better. You traveled across the continent to see me safe, and you stayed. You stayed .” Jaskier is on the verge of tears, and Geralt wishes more than anything in the world to erase that dejected look on his face. “My white wolf. My protector. I—I had nothing to thank you for, except for my songs. So I wrote the song, thinking I could show you that way.”

The fire crackles and Geralt asks dumbly.

“What song?”

Jaskier holds his gaze and hums the too-familiar tune of Hug a Witcher, his voice breaking from time to time, growing hoarse by the end. Geralt is pinned to the spot, unable to form words.

“I got the whole continent to do it for me, didn’t I?” Jaskier chuckles tightly but his usual smugness is nowhere to be seen. “But, you see, the whole continent gets to hug you for a day. They’ll get to show you their appreciation. But not me. What a wonderful plan! I guess that’s the price for being selfish, for wanting an excuse to—just to…”

Jaskier trails off, his fingers limp in Geralt’s hand. The silence hangs too heavily as Geralt lets the thunderstruck realization sink in.

As if Geralt has ever cared about what everyone else thinks of him. As if he ever wanted everyone else’s arms around him. Jaskier can never be selfish when it comes to Geralt, never when it counts. He’s being such a fool for assuming and Geralt lets out a frustrated growl.

The bard flinches, and retreats, pulling his legs towards his chest to appear as small as possible. His curled-up form is so small that it looks wrong. Jaskier should take up all the space in the world.

“No,” Geralt corrects him desperately. “No. You are not selfish, Jaskier. You’ve done nothing wrong by me in this—”

“I’ve brought nothing but trouble to your side. The song, the plague…I’ve worried you, and now I’ve burdened you. I—” Jaskier’s gaze darts all over the place, heedless of Geralt’s protest. The delirium is muddling his mind. Geralt panics and wraps Jaskier’s chin in his palm, desperately trying to anchor his bard.

“Jaskier—”

“Will you leave?” There’s old fear in the question. “Am I going to be cold and alone again?”

It must be the fever. Added with the ordeal of the past year, it’s bringing back memories of childhood, of painful days confined to a bed and struggling for survival. He needs to reassure Jaskier, to erase the lost expression on Jaskier’s face.

In a frenzy, he ends up doing it by pressing his lips to Jaskier’s.

The kiss is a hot and urgent thing and it’s over in a second. The bitter taste of the sleeping potion lingers. Geralt breathes into the space between them, his palm still caressing Jaskier’s cheek. A tear rolls down and Geralt catches it with the pad of his thumb.

Blue eyes refocus, piercing Geralt’s soul.

“Geralt?” he breathes.

The name comes out so reverent that Geralt is sure that his heart will burst. Gods, he loves Jaskier.

“I love you.”

A soft gasp escapes Jaskier’s lips.

“Can you hear me now?” Geralt’s thumb continues to trace small circles on Jaskier’s skin. “Can you hear when I say that, Jaskier, you are not a burden? You are not trouble that I have to deal with. You are not selfish for staying and you will never be alone again, not if I ever have a say in it.”

Jaskier’s limbs unfurl, his arms gradually stretching out from the tight hold over his knees.

"I never wanted to tell you like this. I shouldn’t. Not like this.” Geralt sinks into the presence of his bard and presses their foreheads together. Jaskier stays painstakingly silent and a pang of fear hits Geralt. “Shit, Jask. You don’t need to say anything. I shouldn’t have done it when you are still sick. You know what, forget about—”

“You love me?” Jaskier whispers, his voice so small that anyone but a witcher would have missed it.

“I love you.” Geralt pulls away to stare into the stormy blue of Jaskier’s eyes. “I’ve been in love with you for so long. For longer than I know, Jask. I made so many plans for this moment. I wanted it to be perfect for you. But now, I…I just need you to know.”

He just needs to make it better, make Jaskier better. All the plans are nothing but useless, his fear of rejection too. The sight of Jaskier in pain is enough to chuck every worry out the window. Even if his love is not returned, even if a witcher can never have it returned.

But with a heartbeat and the next, Jaskier has thrown himself into Geralt’s embrace, nearly knocking the breath out of him. And, as if in a fantasy, Jaskier’s lips are everywhere, peppering small, wet kisses all over his face.

“You are perfect for me, you oaf.” A smile finally blossoms on Jaskier’s face and their lips meet again.

The second time Geralt ever kisses Jaskier, it feels like coming home. It’s a drawn-out and lazy dance that lulls him into dreamland, only the dream has come true in the solid form of Jaskier’s supple lips against his and nimble fingers carding through his hair. The bard lets out a string of adorable giggles as he climbs onto Geralt’s bent knees and straddles him, the cloak and blanket shoved out of their way.

Geralt is falling.

And soaring.

“Hey, steady.” he keeps both hands on the small of Jaskier’s back to keep him in place.

The weight of Jaskier is heavenly, and the unlaced collar of Geralt’s shirt provides the best opening for him to slowly suck at the junction between Jaskier’s shoulder and neck. The bard ends up a whimpering, limp mess, draped all over Geralt’s shoulder with a shudder running down his spine.

“Do you even know how easy it is for you to ruin me?” Jaskier murmurs breathily in Geralt’s ear. All he can muster for response is another growl.

When Geralt gently lowers Jaskier down onto the pillows again, the bard looks a fine picture of debauchery, with a beet-red flush painted across his cheeks and patches of reddened skin at his neck that will surely bloom into dark bruises. His hair is sticking in all directions and the shirt slips down from one shoulder, his chest heaving from the exertion.

Tears well up in cornflower blue eyes again but this time it’s not from pain. All Geralt can smell is the heady pleasure that is equally affecting him.

“I’m afraid your sleeping potion has kicked in,” Jaskier yawns just in time. “It’s the good stuff, my dear. You spoil me.”

The bard blinks his eyes open stubbornly as Geralt fishes the blanket up from the floor and then the cloak.

“I’ll spoil you more when you get better.”

“Big witcher with bigger promises.” Jaskier is slurring his words but the smile on his face can match the bright afternoon sun.

Geralt curls around Jaskier’s body and drapes the blanket over both of them, the cloak tucked where chill might creep in during the night. When he pulls Jaskier closer, the bard tucks his head under Geralt’s chin and nuzzles ever so slightly.

The urge to kiss is overwhelming, and Geralt realizes that he can.

“Goodnight, Jask.”

His lips touch Jaskier’s eyelid and the bard is out in the next second. There’s still a faint smile on his lips.

Geralt wakes up like this, with Jaskier sprawled on top of him and snoring softly. He brushes back the hair at the bard’s forehead and feels for his temperature. The fever is still running low but it will be gone in a day or so. Sighing with relief, Geralt revels in the sensation of the rhythmic thrumming of Jaskier’s heart against his ribcage.

His attention drifts to what woke him in the first place. A group of men seems to be yelling on the street right under their window. Geralt only catches a few words in the distinct conversation, but from the looks of it they are arguing about…building a stage somewhere.

And then, the word Saovine stands out.

If they are already building the stage for the performance, and the tavern has been booked up by travelers… Geralt does the math in his head and almost feels giddy when it dawns on him—

It’s today.

It’s Hug a Witcher Day.

The thought doesn’t leave him with the agonizing emptiness that is Jaskier’s absence anymore. Instead, Geralt feels like he’s floating mid-air among the clouds and he may never come down again. He might as well not, since Jaskier won’t be going anywhere any time soon.

He hides a goofy grin in tousled brown hair.

One of the men hammers down on something and Jaskier stirs, inhaling deep and then groaning loud. He arches away from Geralt’s chest with a low growling whine—the fever must still be hurting his back and joints. Geralt untangles their limbs and rests his palm flush against the bard’s lower back where it seems to bother him. He kneads gently, massaging the soreness away. Jaskier lets out an exaggerated moan, his face buried in the pillow to muffle the sound.

“It wasn’t a dream.”

When Jaskier speaks, his voice vibrates deep and nasally from sleep, and it makes something warm gather in Geralt’s stomach. He pushes up the hem of the shirt on Jaskier and places a kiss on the side of his waist before lying down again, face to face with the bard.

“It wasn’t.”

“Hmm.”

Jaskier mirrors one of Geralt’s many hums and looks up blearily through drooping lashes, his smile content and his blush healthier. The bard boops his nose. “What are you grinning at?”

“It’s my day.”

“What day?” The furrow between Jaskier’s brows is too adorable and Geralt is too smitten with it. Eventually, the bard catches on. “ Oh .”

He then scoots closer to tuck a strand of hair behind Geralt’s ear. Excitement sparks in his eyes.

“Can I?” Jaskier asks as if they didn’t just spend a whole night snuggled against each other, as if Geralt hasn’t been ready to say yes since three Hug a Witcher Days ago.

“Yes.”

With that permission, Geralt finds himself on his back with an armful of bard. Jaskier is hugging him so tightly that even a witcher can barely breathe.

“For luck, right?” the bard says into his neck and flings a leg over Geralt’s hip, putting his entire weight into the embrace. “Only the gods know I’ll be needing some for next year.”

“No more scaring me like this.” Geralt mutters half to himself as he runs his fingers through Jaskier’s hair and pulls him even closer. It’s a near-impossible endeavor since he’s already crushed between the mattress and the too eager bard.

“No more,” Jaskier agrees and rubs his nose into the silver hair pooling on the pillow, humming with buzzing pleasure. “And who would have thought? Destiny can be cruel just as she is kind. It’s today, of all days...”

“Hmm. Who would have thought…”

Geralt inhales the scent of Jaskier, now the sour stench of misery only faint. In its place is the happiness that reminds him of the afternoon sun baked into fresh linens.

“And to think I forgot to tell you yesterday. The most renowned poet on this continent forgot to profess his love. How embarrassing!”

Geralt snorts, but in truth, he doesn’t even care anymore. Jaskier being here, in the safety of his arms and recovering from the ordeal of the past year is more than enough. He can live with the knowledge that Jaskier knows that he is loved. He is loved so deeply by someone who was told his whole life to be incapable of it. Now that Geralt is on the other side, the idea of ever not loving Jaskier becomes an unthinkable thing. It’s like not loving the sun or the earth or—

“You’re thinking sappy things.” The bard looks up and the mirth in his eyes disappears. “And probably bad things about yourself. After all these years, after so many songs and so many scrapes and bruises, you still doubt it. Oh, Geralt. Can’t you see? I wrote Hug a Witcher because I didn’t know how to tell you that I love you. To be fair, I wrote every song for the same reason, but this one…I needed you to feel loved, darling, even if it’s not by me.”

So he got the whole continent to do it for him and dragged every other witcher down with it. Geralt should be appalled by the length of theatrics the bard is willing to go if he doesn’t somehow find it the most endearing thing in the world.

“A love letter. Delivered by everyone but you,” Geralt adds.

“Is it to your satisfaction?” Jaskier purses his lips sheepishly. A sheepish Jaskier is such a rare occurrence that Geralt can’t look away. “My white wolf. My protector.”

Geralt takes Jaskier’s wrist and guides it to his chest, placing his palm right over the slow rhythm of his heart. “That’s one thing we have in common, isn’t it? You protect me too. You guard my heart and my name. You use your strength but not for violence but love. If destiny has ever given me one blessing, Jaskier, it would be you. And you are asking if I’m satisfied...”

Geralt puts the answer in the kiss he presses on Jaskier’s forehead with all the gentleness he can muster. It must be the one-millionth time he’s kissed Jaskier because he can no longer remember not being allowed to kiss Jaskier feels like.

“So, Hug a Witcher Day, eh?” Jaskier springs up with renewed vigor, so fast Geralt amazes that he isn’t getting dizzy. “How should we celebrate?”

Geralt looks at his bard, surrounded by his clothing and his love, basked in the shimmering morning light.

“I believe it’s in the name.” he challenges, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, honey. You know I won’t let you go for the rest of the day, right?” the bard smirks with mischief. “But first, if I remember it correctly, didn’t you say that you had some…plans for your grand love confession?”

Geralt blinks. “Are you always this incorrigible?”

“Duh!” Jaskier shrugs, offended. “Oh, come on! I promise I won’t make fun of you! And I’m sure I can make at least one ballad out of your plotting, my darling witcher. With how much of a sap you are, a whole romance book if I put my mind to it!”

“I won’t give you the chance to make fun of me for the rest of time, bard.”

“But I’m sick.” Jaskier bats his lashes. “It will make me feel better. Won’t you indulge me?”

Geralt cannot believe the bard is already playing this card. What’s worse is that he knows his resolve will break very soon.

It’s Hug a Witcher Day after all, and Geralt finally, finally gets to have the one person he wants the most in his arms. If a little bit of embarrassment is the price for it, he can’t say that he minds that much.

---

Geralt gets lots of hugs. Jaskier gets to tease him endlessly. And I can start new wips!

I was torn between two different ways to end this story and finally settled on this more conventional one. I’ll be putting up the alternative ending soon ;)

Tagging: @wanderlust-t @rockysstupidity @flowercrown-bard @alllthequeenshorses @mothmanismyuncle @percy-jackson-is-sexy- @constantlytiredpigeon @behonesthowsmysinging @rey-a-nonbinary-bisexual @birdsflyhome @dapandapod @artisanbaguette

Please feel free to tell me if you want to be removed or added to the list <3

#geraskier #geraskier fic #geralt x jaskier #cuddling #snuggling #hugs and kisses!#sick jaskier #jaskier gets sick but it's unrelated to the plague #jaskier whump #protective geralt #love confessions #first kiss #second kiss #geralt of rivia is a sap #this should be a tag #the other ending is very silly #so very silly

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flowercrown-bard · 2 years

Note

Before the beginning

Thank you <3

Before the beginning: three sentences (or more) about something that happened before the plot of my current project

Three sentences or more you say? Alright then. This takes place before/during the first chapter of my reincarnation fic A new us will begin. But can be read as a stand alone

Content warnings: mention of alcohol/getting drunk, mention of Alzheimers, MCD very heavily implied, (I guess this is kind of spoilery for the last chapter of the fic that I haven't written yet?)

word count: 2636 words

Will you come back?

“You came back.”

Jaskier huffed and let himself fall onto the chair opposite of Geralt’s, at the very back of the tavern. Of course.

“Naturally,” he said and reached for the tankard sitting before Geralt. The witcher snatched it, before Jaskier’s fingers so much as grazed it. “Oh come on,” Jaskier said with a grin. “You’re going to leave your friend with a dry throat? I need that to sing your praises, you know You wouldn’t believe how many taverns I had to search for you.”

“Never asked you to follow me. I thought you’d just go back to whatever it was you were doing before, now that you got your song.”

“But that’s what friends do,” Jaskier said. “They come back.”

“Not your friend.” The witcher glowered at him.

“Oh no? You just save random strangers from murderous elves all the time then?”

The look Geralt shot him was answer enough. Jaskier cocked his head to the side.

“Huh. Good point. I hope you know that that doesn’t make me like you any less.” Jaskier leaned back, spreading his arms a little. “You’re just getting more heroic by the minute. With everything you say – or don’t say, I suppose – you make me want to stay with you even more.”

Geralt grunted.

“Good luck trying to keep up. I can easily lose you if I want.”

“Don’t underestimate my ability to latch onto you like a duckling. You can try to lose me, but I’ll easily catch up again.”

Once again, Jaskier swiped at the tankard and this time, he got it. He let out a triumphant cheer, but he knew just as well as Geralt did, that he hadn’t snatched the tankard of his own merit. Geralt had let him take it.

And when Geralt left Jaskier repeatedly over the next weeks and Jaskier caught up to him time and time again, they both knew it wasn’t out of Jaskier’s own merit either. Because Geralt was right. He could easily lose Jaskier. If he wanted.

“This is where we part ways,” Geralt said, for the perhaps fortieth time since they had met half a year ago, but this time it sounded like he meant it.

And, if Jaskier wasn’t mistaken, he sounded almost disappointed.

“Fret not,” he said with false cheer. “I know you’ll miss me terribly in that secret witcher keep of yours, but the thought of our reunion come spring, will soften your woes.”

Geralt’s lips twitched. “Yeah. Our reunion.”

For some reason, he sounded...sad? That wouldn’t do. Oh, that wouldn’t do at all. Jaskier would not let his friend – and that was what they were, no matter what Geralt said – part from him on bad terms.

“You don’t believe me, do you?” he challenged and took a step forward, pointing a finger at Geralt’s face. “You don’t think we’ll meet again.”

“I don’t,” Geralt agreed. Almost gently, he grabbed Jaskier’s hand and lowered it again. “You’ve had your adventures, your inspiration and songs. You don’t need to pretend that you’ll want to come back to me.”

A sly smile spread over Jaskier’s lips. “Is that a challenge?”

Geralt returned the smile, though it was thin lipped. “It’s a certainty. It’s years of experience talking.”

“We’ll see about that.”

Geralt didn’t hug him goodbye that day.

Jaskier went back to Oxenfurt, to comfortable beds, taverns that didn’t make him pay double for the company he kept. To his friends and collegues who admired him. He went back to every comfort he didn’t have on the path.

And when the snow thawed and birdsong filled the morning air again, Jaskier went back to his witcher. To his friend.

He watched with a pang in his chest, as Geralt’s eyes widened in shock when he saw him waiting for him in a tavern at the foot of the Blue Mountains. And when Geralt wrapped him into his arms, he smiled against Geralt’s chest.

“Told you,” he mumbled. “Told you I’d come back.”

“Shut up, bard.” It sounded almost fond.

Geralt was a private man. Jaskier...wasn’t.

Over the years, Jaskier brought Geralt to Oxenfurt on many an occasion. He introduced every friend he had to his witcher and even thought about bringing him home to meet his parents one day.

Geralt, on the other hand, rarely even talked about the friends he had other than Jaskier. Sure, Jaskier knew many of them, simply because he was there when Geralt met them, but other than that, Jaskier had no idea who was important to his best friend.

Until, through pure chance, they met another witcher in a tavern in Brugge.

Jaskier didn’t know what he had expected, but Lambert was Geralt’s opposite in practically every way. He was loud, unafraid to speak his mind plainly and within an hour of knowing Jaskier, he slung his arm around his shoulder and tousled his hair playfully.

Geralt rolled his eyes when Jaskier needled Lambert about stories from his adventures and he groaned when Lambert handed Jaskier yet another keg of ale and asked him about embarrassing stories about Geralt. But even with alcohol clouding his mind, Jaskier couldn’t be fooled. He noticed the hint of a fond smile tugging at Geralt’s lips as he watched his brother and his friend get along.

Still, Jaskier knew that Geralt’s time with his brothers was precious and limited. So after another hour, he excused himself, claiming that he needed to relieve himself to give Geralt some time to speak with his brother.

He loitered around, paid a visit to Roach and Horse in the stables and chatted up a pretty blonde woman at the bar, before he decided that enough time had passed and he made his way back to the witchers.

“You know, if you’re not careful, I’ll steal the songbird away from you,” Lambert said.

Jaskier was too far away still to see his expression, but he could hear the wolfish grin in his voice.

As he weaved his way through the other patrons, he heard Geralt snort.

“Good luck with that.” Jaskier half expected some teasing comment about how Lambert would become annoyed by Jaskier within a day or how Geralt would finally have some peace with Jaskier gone, but instead Geralt said, “You’d have to chain him up to keep him. He’ll come back to me.”

Something warm bloomed in Jaskier’s chest. Geralt’s words were true, of course. Jaskier had said them often enough. But this was the first time Geralt was the one saying them, and the first time he appeared to believe them.

Jaskier shook his head to rid himself of his dopey smile and strode up to the table. He slid onto the bench next to Geralt this time.

“You’re back,” Geralt said, his lips twitching. “Thought you had gotten lost on your way to the privy. You’ve been gone a long time.”

Jaskier shrugged and leaned against Geralt.

“But I came back.”

“Hmm. You always do.”

“I just want some damn peace!”

Jaskier felt his throat constrict, heard himself gasping for air, felt his knees hitting the ground.

There were Geralt’s arms around him, panicked words, the world racing past as a horse’s muscles shifted beneath him.

Then there was...he didn’t know what.

Everything was a haze. He thought he was being moved again. Thought there were hands brushing sweat-soaked strands of hair out of his face. Thought there was a voice speaking to him through the fog in his mind.

“He’s going to come back.” Words that spoke of a certainty. Of years of experience. For the first time since that day in the tavern, Geralt’s voice sounded doubtful again. “Won’t he?”

A snort, a voice Jaskier didn’t recognise. “Of course he will. Do you doubt my powers?” The sound of silk skirts fluttering about. “The bard will be fine. What is he to you anyways? Just a friend I hope?”

A grunt. So painfully familiar. So comforting in this endless blackness.

“He’s...important.” Jaskier could almost imagine the pinched look on Geralt’s face. “He’s someone who always comes back.”

There was the doubt again. And then there was something else. Less than a voice, more than a thought. It was a deep-rooted conviction.

He could do it. He could come back to Geralt. However many times he had to.

He fought his way back to consciousness, with all the mental strength he possessed and that inner conviction guiding him.

When Jaskier opened his eyes, Geralt was gone.

And when he found him again – came back to him again – Geralt left without hesitation, to save the woman who had threatened to end Jaskier’s life mere minutes ago.

Geralt left and he didn’t come back.

Jaskier stood there, looking through a broken window as Geralt found someone else to come back to.

Then he turned and left.

He came back.

He always did.

There was a mountain and there was a wish.

“If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands!”

Something stirred inside Jaskier, told him that he should go. That he had to go.

He could grant Geralt his blessing, his wish.

His peace.

And so, he turned around and left. He did what Geralt had wished, even as his own heart was torn apart.

He didn’t come back. No matter how often, he thought about it, how much his heart screamed at him to find Geralt again, he didn’t. He couldn’t.

It was as if something inside him rebelled whenever he tried to turn his feet northwards, to where the witchers’ keep must be.

His feet wouldn’t budge, his body not obey.

Geralt had wished for him to stay away, and so Jaskier did.

Jaskier’s heart sang, when months later, it was Geralt who came back to him.

“Was that really your wish?” Jaskier asked. He was laying on his back on the cool grass, looking up at the night sky so he didn’t have to look at Geralt. Yet the stars looked like his eyes, the moon like his hair.

“What do you mean?”

“Did you really want me gone?” He pressed his lips together, but something inside him urged him to continue. “Did that bring you peace?”

“No.” There was so much emotion in that one word, that it made Jaskier turn his head after all.

Geralt was looking back at him, his face so close that Jaskier could see the softness and devastation on it even in the dark.

“Alright.” Blindly, Jaskier reached out, searching for Geralt’s hand. When he found it, Geralt gave it a light squeeze. “It didn’t bring me peace either, you know.”

“I know.” Geralt swallowed, but didn’t turn away. “I’m sorry. Truly.”

“I know.” The corner of Jaskier’s lips twitched. “Guess we both got lucky that I always come back.”

“I am.” There was a seriousness in Geralt’s voice that pierced Jaskier’s chest. “I am lucky.”

Ever so slowly, Geralt leaned closer, slow enough to give Jaskier time to pull away.

He didn’t. Their lips met in the softest of kisses. It was over far too quickly, when Geralt pulled away again. His eyes were darting over Jaskier’s face, searching for something.

“Come back here,” Jaskier demanded, burying his free hand in Geralt’s hair and pulling him in for another kiss.

“I don’t want to go,” Jaskier whined, burrying himself deeper into the pile of blankets and pillows to escape the damning midday light.

“Then don’t,” Geralt said, pulling Jaskier against his chest and nuzzling into his hair.

“That’s what you’ve been saying for the past three hours.”

A low, content rumble rose in Geralt’s chest. “And it worked every time. Of course the only time you’d listen to me is when I ask you to stay in bed.”

Briefly, Jaskier thought about glaring at Geralt, but for that, he woud have had to lift his head and pull back from Geralt’s embrace and that just wasn’t worth it.

“You’re a terrible enabler,” he mumbled against Geralt’s chest instead.

“Hmm.”

Jaskier pouted.

“You know,” he said in a grave voice. “If I don’t get up and lose my job because we stayed in bed to long, there will be no more snuggles in a comfortable bed anymore. They are just going to kick me out.”

Geralt growled lowly and pulled Jaskier closer. This time Jaskier resisted.

“I mean it. I am wonderful -”

“You are.”

“Stop it, dear, I’m trying to think of consequences here.”

“Hmm, don’t like that.”

“Me neither. But the point is, they won’t hesitate to kick me to the curb. I have to go.”

With a groan, he threw the blanket off and weaselled out of Geralt’s insistent embrace.

Geralt’s arms tightened for a moment, before he let him go.

“But you’re going to come back, aren’t you?”

Jaskier’s expression softened. For a long moment, he gazed down at his lover. Sleep-heavy eyes, tousled hair and pillow creases on his cheek. He was beautiful.

“Always.” Jaskier brushed a strand of white hair out of Geralt’s forehead and pressed a kiss in its place. “I’ll always come back for you.”

“You’ve been gone again,” Geralt said softly, gently tracing the lines on Jaskier’s face, as if they were strokes on a painting instead of wrinkles.

“Oh.” Jaskier pressed his lips together. “I’m sorry.”

He knew it was happening. That every once in a while, he got lost. Not necessarily in thought, not in stories, as he had when he had been young. Just...lost.

There were days when he didn’t recognise the neighbours’ kids. When his bones creaked like an old oak tree in the wind and his mind drifted off to he knew not where. He hated it. And he hated that it hurt Geralt when he got like that.

“It’s alright,” Geralt said. He lifted Jaskier’s hand and pressed a kiss against his knuckles. Jaskier’s fingers had been free of ink stains and lute callouses for far too long. “You came back.”

“It’s not fair that you have to wait for me to return.”

“It’s not,” Geralt agreed, “but I always will.”

“And I’ll always come back.” Jaskier rested his forehead against Geralt’s, two white-haired men. One of them older than the other and yet looking younger by decades.

Geralt let out a pained sound. “You can’t promise that. Not anymore.”

“Of course I can.” Jaskier smiled and placed a kiss on the corner of Geralt’s lips. Yet, even as he did, he was crushed by the heaviness in his chest. “I’ll come back to you.”

It was a lie and they both knew it. The certainty, the lifetime of experience. For once, it was worth nothing.

One day, Jaskier wouldn’t return and Geralt would be left alone. His one blessing, his curse. Never his wish. It had taken Jaskier a while to truly believe that Jaskier’s absence had not brought Geralt a minute of peace.

It had taken even longer to realise that Jaskier’s return, did.

Every time Jaskier had come back over the decades they had been together, Geralt relaxed, smiled, was peaceful.

Soon, Jaskier would take that peace with him.

How he wished, he wouldn’t. How he wished, he truly would come back to Geralt, give him that peace of mind. He was burning with how desperately he wanted it.

It was the last thought on his mind, when he went to sleep in Geralt’s arms and the first one when Geralt kissed him awake each morning.

And it was that thought that filled him, when Geralt held him in his arms, the flowers of Dol Blathanna surrounding them and a song leaving Geralt’s lips, lulling Jaskier to sleep one last time.

(for this ask game)

#thank you for the ask!#ask game #this was fun #my writing #geraskier #geraltxjaskier #reincarnation au #fic #witcher fic #i didn't edit this #at all #so sorry if none of this makes sense

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jaskiersvalley · 4 years

Text

(Nearest) Furthest and Dearest

Written for @aphelioo as part of @thewitchersecretsanta.

Rating: Teen and up Relationship: Geralt/Jaskier Summary: With so many suitors and adoring fans to swoon over Jaskier, Geralt had no hope of ever being more than a protector and source of inspiration. He'd all but given up, accepting his fate. It wasn't like Witchers should want or need anything anyway.

It was an understatement to say that Jaskier was popular. He had fans across the Continent who adored him to an almost alarming extent. This made Geralt both happy for his friend but also rather sad for himself. Because, in the constant stream of admirers, Geralt didn’t stand out. He didn’t have a special place in Jaskier’s life. Well, he did, he was Jaskier’s muse, took him on adventures and provided inspiration for songs. But that wasn’t all Geralt wanted to be. Like the many other adoring fans, he had only gone and lost his heart to Jaskier. Unlike the masses, Geralt didn’t just love the image of Jaskier and his songs. Nobody else got to watch Jaskier wake up, squinting worse than a startled mole into the sunlight while creases from the pillow lined his face. Geralt quite doubted Jaskier would have quite as many fans if they had to bear witness to not just the songs in the taverns but the grunt and whining in the forest after a slightly underdone squirrel meal. Over the years Geralt had seen Jaskier in every state of being and still loved him, no matter whether he was belching after an ale or snoring thanks to a cold.

The problem was, Geralt could watch from afar as Jaskier charmed his way through life, got invited to bed after bed, often with the offer of more than just a tumble. All those suitors, they could offer so much more than Geralt ever could. A Witcher didn’t have a lot, they have even less to spend on frivolous gifts. The scarf Geralt managed to save up for and present Jaskier as the weather turned cold was, by Geralt’s standards, extravagant. Yet it paled in comparison to the three others that were given to Jaskier over the following week, each more ornate and of softer material than the previous. It was no wonder Geralt’s measly offering got shoved to the bottom of a pack and forgotten about.

Anything Geralt offered, it was vastly surpassed in value by others. When he could offer a nicer room at an inn for the night, a suitor whisked Jaskier away to a cleaner, larger and less drafty room for the night. The food Geralt could buy was pigswill when Jaskier could dine at any court he wished because he had invitations from all over the Continent to play for the rich and elite. It wasn’t like Geralt could even offer Jaskier a horse to ride with him. Feeding two humans and a horse was strain enough on Geralt’s coin pouch already, he went hungry so Jaskier and Roach wouldn’t more frequently than he’d hoped. It didn’t matter anyway, any horse he could have offered Jaskier would have been good for nothing more than glue when compared to the carriages that came to whisk Jaskier away if he so wished.

Despite all this, Jaskier still stuck by Geralt’s side. It certainly wasn’t for all the gifts Geralt had tried to bestow on him, it wasn’t for good company because even Geralt knew he was sullen and bitter most days. The only reason Jaskier stuck around was probably for the safety of travelling with a Witcher while exploring the Continent. Geralt couldn’t begrudge him, he knew Jaskier craved the new and the exciting, was familiar with how Jaskier would pout when a contract was something as mundane as a handful of drowners. He had even begun to turn his nose up at kikimoras, preferring to stay at the inn and entertain his loyal fans than get dirty and be in danger for such boring contracts.

If all that hadn’t been enough of an unfortunate mess, Geralt’ heart had one more painful twist to choke itself with. Namely that he was failing as a Witcher. He was meant to be aloof, above frivolous things like matters of the heart. Maybe the second round of trials were wearing off, weakening him. Geralt had no idea what was happening to him. Working through his inner turmoil and allowing himself to gift Jaskier things had been difficult enough. Now, he was left holding the tatters of his heart and trying to figure out whether it was terminal.

So caught up in his worries, Geralt didn’t notice at first that Jaskier was chattering away. That was another problem. Jaskier spoke so many words but rarely actually said anything and Geralt didn’t have the time and energy to parse all of them. Thus he often found himself humming along to Jaskier’s chatter without actually paying much attention. There were more pressing issues to concentrate on, such as the surrounding area and listening out for any danger as they settled for the evening. What did draw Geralt’s attention was Jaskier huffing as he dug through his bag.

“Honestly Geralt, why do you let me carry so much crap around? I don’t even need three scarves.”

Said scarves were being pulled out of the bag and being dumped unceremoniously in the dirt by Jaskier’s feet. Rich, vibrant silks that were now covered in dust. Geralt never could understand how anyone could have such disregard for their possessions. Then again, Jaskier didn’t treat Geralt’s heart any different either, maybe he just didn’t value what he had.

“What do you keep them for then?” They could sell them or burn them and they would be more useful than when they lugged them around, bursting their bags with frivolous gifts.

“We might need them.” Jaskier frowned at Geralt as though he’d heard the worst suggestion on earth. “I’m certainly not tearing up my doublets to bandage your wounds with.”

Not that Geralt ever expected him to. “I don’t need or want you to.”

“I know.” There was a hint of sadness to Jaskier’s words. “You don’t want anyone or need anyone. I know.”

Which was an absolute lie but Geralt couldn’t refute it. A Witcher didn’t have wants or needs. They had the Path, their swords and their purpose, and that ought to be enough. They shouldn’t be mooning over a bard who could have anyone and anything. They most definitely shouldn’t be trying to impress them. Maybe there was a ballad in it that Jaskier would never realise: the Witcher who gave his all and still wasn’t enough. Usually, those Witchers ended up dead.

A soft huff from Jaskier drew Geralt out of his introspection. His friends was staring into the bag with a small, almost bitter smile twisting his lips. Whatever he had in the bag, he was running his thumb over it.

“I imagine it’s nice, not wanting anyone. It gives life a certain simplicity surely.”

“I guess.” The lie burned Geralt’s throat.

“Makes me wish sometimes that I could have some of your stoicness, some of the stones of the fortress around your heart.”

So someone had caught Jaskier’s fancy. It was only a matter of time, Geralt knew. Their time together was limited, dictated by Jaskier’s whims and desires. Geralt had done all he could to entice Jaskier to stay but, like always it wasn’t enough. He wasn’t enough.

“We can go back and find them. It’s not too late.” If the lies had burned, saying those words was agony. Geralt didn’t want to let Jaskier go, didn’t want to deliver him on a platter to someone else. But Witchers didn’t want anyone, Geralt didn’t need Jaskier. That wasn’t a luxury he could afford, both literally and metaphorically.

“It’s okay Geralt, they don’t want me. I know that for sure.”

How anyone wouldn’t want Jaskier was beyond Geralt. He cleared his throat, wanting to comfort but that was a skill he never developed. When Roach was upset, he pressed against her side, so with great simplicity, Geralt shifted to sit close to Jaskier, shoulders together. It meant he also caught a glimpse of the item in the bag that had Jaskier all misty eyed.

A cheap scarf. A very familiar one at that. Geralt could distinctly remember buying it and shoving it at Jaskier’s chest in a market when it was cold. It was never worn after that first day and Geralt had known he’d failed at giving a gift once more. Now, it was in the bottom of their bag, being caressed by a sad Jaskier while other, fancier scarves were still on the ground.

“It’s silly, I know,” Jaskier whispered. “But I couldn’t bring myself to wear it for fear of damaging or losing it.”

“It doesn’t match any of your outfits.”

“I don’t care.” Jaskier turned to Geralt, pulling the scarf out. Keeping eye contact, he linked his fingers with Geralt’s and wrapped the scarf around their joined hands in a mockery of handfasting. “You gave it to me. That makes it important.”

Speechless, Geralt frowned, trying to make sense of it all. He didn’t have to because Jaskier’s eyes were flicking down to his lips as they leaned in closer together. As their lips brushed, Geralt had a thought. Maybe, just maybe, he had been enough all along.

#geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #the witcher #the witcher secret santa #get together #love confessions

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randomfandomimagine · 4 years

Text

A Whisper Among The Noise (Clark Kent x Reader)

Character: Clark Kent

Fandom: Superman/Man of Steel (DCEU)

Tags: Songfic, angst with a happy ending, pining

Warnings: A bit angsty in the middle

Word Count: 2,1k words

Requested by @caritobbg: Hello again!!! ❤️ I'm still in love with "I Still Love You" whith Jaskier 😍❤️ hahahaha I'm gonna ask if you could write another ficlet songfic with Clark Kent x Fem! Reader? 😍 The song's called Secret Love Song p.II by Little Mix ❤️ Reader's in love with him, but when she founds out about a mysterious girl that he likes, she felt so bad and sing that song infront of everyone at an after-office party. Then, Clark tell her that she's that girl 😍 Love your blog!!!! 😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍

A/N: Better late than never 😅 By this point I was running out of inspiration a bit, but I still kind of like the result and I hope you love it! Thanks for being so lovely and patient and understanding. Enjoy!! 💜

Clark Kent x Gender Neutral Reader

You absently scratched your nail against the ridges on the red solo cup you were holding and that you had barely drank a sip of. The party was lively and loud, and although you didn’t regret coming, you were starting to feel a bit restless. Everyone was shouting over the music and chatting in groups, and after you had said hello to them, you were now hiding in the corner as you felt your social battery drain.

A hand softly pressed against your arm, and you would have been startled by the sudden contact as well as by the promise of new interaction if it weren’t for whom that hand belonged to. You could tell it was him not only by the gentle way in which he called you, but also the unmistakable way his touch made you feel. Warm, flustered, loved. The butterflies returned to your stomach, like they had never left ever since the last time you talked to him.

“Y/N” His deep voice enveloped you as you turned around to face him.

“Hey, Clark” You didn’t speak too loudly, but he seemed to hear you nonetheless.

“What…” He began to say, but he paused and leaned closer to your ear so you could understand him over the blasting speakers. “What are you doing here all alone?”

Suddenly feeling self-conscious, even under the fond way in which he watched you, you shrugged your shoulders. Wanting to distract yourself from the intense way he made you feel, you continued to play with the cup in your hands.

Why can't I hold you in the street? Why can't I kiss you on the dance floor? I wish that it could be like that Why can't it be like that? 'Cause I'm yours Why can't I say that I'm in love? I wanna shout it from the rooftops I wish that it could be like that Why can't it be like that? 'Cause I'm yours

“Well, I…” Knowing he expected an answer, you made an effort to reply and raise your voice enough so that he could hear you. “I guess I’m a bit over it already”

When you looked up at him, you saw Clark dedicating you an understanding smile. His hand, which still lingered on your arm, carefully squeezed you.

“Would you like me to drive you home?”

“I wouldn’t want you to leave the party early because of me…”

“I don’t mind at all” His smile widened, acquiring an inviting expression. “I don’t like parties that much anyway”

“You really wouldn’t mind?” Your hand fell atop of his, timid and longing.

“It would be my pleasure” Clark dedicated you that smile, the one that light up your entire world.

The two of you paused, lingering on your reciprocal touch, and stared at the other. At that time, the music in the background seemed to dim. Perhaps it was because of your heart beating wildly in your chest, all the more with each second that your touch and his continued. Or maybe it was that the intensity of your gazes that made everything around you duller.

When your eyes drifted down to his lips, like they had a mind of their own, you had to bite your lip not to audibly gasp. You inched closer to his mouth on an instinct, ever so slightly, so little in fact that he didn’t seem to notice.

“Come on” He finally said, moving his hand to gently push it against the small of your back. “Let’s get you home”

You obeyed, hoping you weren’t blushing as his hand also lingered in that new spot. Titling your head down, you started walking towards the exit. Your mind boiled with thoughts, all regarding the very man that so kindly insisted in personally accompanying you home.

When Clark stopped the car, it felt like all the questions fighting for attention in your brain only grew louder with the absence of the party music. Like every time you interacted, he was the perfect gentleman, a sweetheart, always kind and thoughtful and gentle. Back at the party, you had been even closer than ever. All those stolen moments you shared paled in comparison to that one. Surely, he must have noticed your moment of weakness and decided not to act on it, to pretend like he didn’t realize. He couldn’t be that oblivious.

It made sense, seeing as his heart was apparently taken. There were rumors in the office, of Clark being hung up on someone. He always seemed absent-minded, lost in a beautiful romantic daydream of that special person. If only you could be so lucky, but having your feelings reciprocated felt like an impossible dream. You could see that now, clear as day despite the darkness that surrounded you.

“Are you okay?” Clark’s husky voice startled you slightly in the stillness of the car. “You’re very quiet”

“I was just wondering…” You dared to look him in the eyes, forgetting how beautiful and piercing they were. For a moment, it took your breath away. “Are the rumors true? Do you… are you… and someone in the office…?”

“Maybe… why do you ask?” He attentively stared at you, but his tender expression wasn’t endearing this time. It was heartbreaking, because someone else caused it.

“I…” Unprompted, a deep sadness overwhelmed you. The electric magic that seemed to fill the air whenever he was around disappeared, replaced with a cold void.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” Clark placed a hand on your wrist, but this time the gesture didn’t feel as lovely either. “You’re acting strange”

Tears arrived to your eyes. You had a sudden realization that, no matter how close and intimate you got with Clark, it would never be enough. He was thinking of someone else.

Every time I see you, I die a little more Stolen moments that we steal as the curtain falls It'll never be enough As you drive me to my house I can't stop these silent tears from rolling down You and I both have to hide on the outside Where I can't be yours and you can't be mine

But I know this, we got a love that is homeless

Was he really that blind to your love to give you hope? Especially when his harbored someone else? Was that undeniable connection doomed because of another person?

He was staring at you, yet again expecting an answer. His insistent gaze made your heart race, made you flustered as usual. This wasn’t fair…

“I’m in love with you” You spit out before you could stop yourself.

The silence seemed to grow. It loomed over you, lurking in order to swallow you at any moment, and take your empty heart with it.

“Oh…” Clark retrieved his hand, dragging his fingers along your skin.

Feeling all kinds of stupid and hopeless, you averted your gaze. Your wrist felt cold and hot at the same time. That spot missed his touch, but it remembered it.

“I’ll…” He cleared his throat. “I’ll walk you to the door”

Moving your head so he couldn’t see your face, you looked out the window. He stayed in the seat, so you nodded your head without making eye contact. When you made to open the door, he exited the car himself.

In the time that it took him to round the vehicle to reach the copilot door, you took a deep breath to calm yourself. You didn’t want him to know how much you were hurting. It would only make things worse.

It's obvious you're meant for me Every piece of you, it just fits perfectly Every second, every thought, I'm in so deep But I'll never show it on my face

Before he could, you opened the door and walked out of the car. There stood Clark’s tall figure, illuminated by a streetlight behind him and making him look like an angel in a halo. You and him… it would have been too good to be true.

You started walking to your front door, with him standing by you and watching your every move. He was worried, and you could tell. You couldn’t even be mad at him or that person that stole his love. After all, you wanted him to be happy, even if it was with somebody else.

As you walked, you subtly wiped the tears from your cheeks and busied yourself with getting your keys out. They rattled in the silence of the night, making your ears ring. It was the only sound filling the void other than your slow, feeble footsteps. Your front door was closer each second, and with that a sense of anticipated relief reached you bit by bit, desperately attempting to take over the hurt.

“Y/N?” Clark piped up, but you didn’t feel strong enough to hear what he wanted to say.

“Thanks for taking me home” Was all you told him, already lifting your arm with your keys prepared.

“Wait” He spoke in an ushered whisper, delicately stopping your hand when you were opening the door. His fingers were warm even in that chilly night. “I don’t think you understood me before”

“You don’t have to explain” You told him, mentally begging him to stop talking. “Really, Clark”

“I do” His grip on your wrist tightened a little. “Because I am in love with that someone…”

“Clark…” You began, gritting your teeth and struggling to keep faking.

“Will you look at me?” His hand gingerly rested against your cheek, tilting your head so you reluctantly stared into his blue eyes. “That someone is you… how could you think it was anyone but you?”

You gawked at him, unable to believe him. He backed off slightly, letting go of your wrist and giving you some space. As usual, he seemed to know exactly what you needed.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” You weren’t angry, you weren’t sad, nor disappointed. Shock was the only thing you could feel among the sea of emotions that threatened to drown you.

“I thought you knew…” He continued, given your quietness. “I was waiting for a sign”

“A sign?”

“A sign that you… loved me back”

“I knew you loved someone, I just… I never thought it was me…”

Clark frowned, seemingly as heartbroken as you were. He made to touch you again, but this time he hesitated. You could see it in his eyes, the regret and guilt and fear. After all this time being so unapologetically affectionate, he was afraid to hurt you again. He was afraid to harm you in any way, even if it hadn’t been his intention. All that pain and uncertainty… it was all for nothing. Clark loved you, he always had. There was no one else, only you.

“I’m sorry if I ever hurt you” Once again, he read you like an open book. He knew you so well, and he cared so much, that he read your thoughts.

“Get out of my head…” You spoke in a whisper, fascinated by him.

Relieved by the shift in the atmosphere, from tense and sad to hopeful and light, he chuckled. His brow was still furrowed, but now it showcased that fondness from always. Knowing what you did now, you realized it wasn’t only that. It was fondness, and an absolute adoration that you were surprised not to have seen until then. It was always there, you were just too blind and too afraid to see it.

“Can I…?” Clark began, but you interrupted him.

“Yes” You replied before he could finish the question, you knew what he was going to say anyways. And the answer was yes, one hundred times yes.

He smiled and moved closer to you. Feeling his warmth in the chilly night, you shivered as he lovingly wrapped his arms around you. Like they belonged there and always had, your hands settled on his chest. He deeply breathed in, as though he couldn’t contain such emotion. Then, he finally leaned in.

Your eyes closed at the touch of his lips, feeling goose bumps now that it finally happened. He held you tight at last, tighter, as tight as he could, as he pressed you against him. Your hands went up to his shoulders, holding on to him as your legs threatened to give in under the weight of your immeasurable happiness.

The kiss was magical, warm, passionate and tender. It was loving and sweet and cathartic. When it ended after a few seconds, you slowly opened your eyes. Clark was staring at you, receiving you with a bright smile. He didn’t say anything, but you understood anyway.

There was no noise anymore and he didn't have to whisper in your ear, but he still reached you deeply. He saw you in ways no one else could, he talked to you and read you without the need of words, and that kiss was proof of it all, like a whisper among the noise.

Tag list: @call-me-harley-quinn / @wonderlandfandomkingdom / @locke-writes / @lotsoffandomrecs / @emmacata / @scared-to-be-lonely345 / @everyday-imfangirling / @danietoww04 / @sylleblossomstar // If you want to be added or taken off the tag list for these fandoms or characters, send me an ask!! // Feedback and reblogs are appreciated!

#clark kent #clark kent x reader #clark kent imagine #dc imagine #dc #dceu #superman #man of steel #rfi writings #ficlet #dc ficlet #superman ficlet #man of steel ficlet #clark kent ficlet #reaer insert #requested #man of steel imagine

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retvenkos · 3 years

Text

“shall i capture your heart with a song?”

A/N: lol, i only know the witcher on netflix, and what i have found out about jaskier via tumblr osmosis, so how accurate is this? i guess we’ll have to see, lol.

requested HERE WE ARE, IMAGINING WHAT IT WOULD BE LIKE TO BE CHILDHOOD FRIENDS TO LOVERS TO EVENTUAL MARRIAGE WITH THE ONLY AND ONLY JASKIER....

well, seeing as jaskier is of noble birth, i’m going to say that you are, too.

your families are old friends, so when you guys first meet, (i want to say you’re like 8 or 9) it’s at some celebration or another and at first you’re a little unsure if you should talk to each other or just,,,, stand there.

one of your parents absent mindedly tells you to talk to the boy, and so you have to do the awkward introductions.

“i’m (y/n) (l/n)”

“i’m julian alfred pankratz.”

“that’s unfortunate.”

“hey!”

“don’t worry. i’ll find something better to call you.”

“yeah, well... i’ll find something better to call you.”

(sorry, guys,,,,, i still can’t get over jaskier’s real name)

the two of you decide to sneak away from your parents to get some food or something, and then you eventually decide to sneak away from the party entirely

it was jaskier’s idea, really. he was trying to avoid some family or something - the family that thinks they are oh so better than you and compare achievements and what not...

the two of you are just wandering (jaskier’s sense of direction is horrible so it’s really up to you to keep everything straight) and you end up in some field or another, talking about whatever comes to mind. jaskier is telling you stories and you scoff.

“you’re like a weed, julian alfred pankratz. like a.... dandelion.”

“i am not!”

“what flower would you want to be, then?”

“something better than a dandelion!”

“like what, a buttercup?”

“yOU are.... are like....”

“like what?”

“...aconite! that’s a poison.”

“aconites are related to buttercups, dandelion. you can’t get rid of me.”

and jaskier thinks it’s wildly funny that you know horticulture, of all things. he finds it so funny, in fact, he fails to miss that you’ve coined a new nickname for him.

it seems that all the time, afterward, you run into jaskier and his family. by virtue of constantly seeing each other, the two of you end up being really good friends.

it’s a running gag that you love horticulture, and since the illustrious julian alfred pankratz uses it against you at every turn, you fluctuate between calling him “jaskier” and “dandelion”. he eventually gets used to it, but he hates it when others start to catch on.

he also comes up with ridiculous nicknames for you, but none of them quite seem to stick. he’s constantly cycling through through new ones, hoping to find the right one.

the two of you hang out a lot, but since you do a lot of reading or gardening and need jaskier to stop chatting with you for five minutes he picks up the lute and learns to play it really well.

you’re the first one who tells him his singing voice is quite beautiful.

“i’m sorry, did you just say my singing voice is ‘quite beautiful’?”

“it’s nice, okay?”

“nice?”

“if you keep this up, i’ll just have to insult you.”

“you’d never.”

“do you not remember the first time we met?”

“like it was yesterday.”

“i laid down some pretty decent insults, if i remember right.”

“i called you poison.”

“yeah, but aconites are pretty. unlike dandelions.”

and jaskier scoffs. “and buttercups?”

“they’re not bad looking.”

so we all know that jaskier supposedly gets into poetry when he’s 19 because he’s inspired by his love for the countess de stael,,, bUT,,,, consider this instead:

he actually gets into poetry for you.

jaskier has had a few loves at this point, and with each one, he’s a nervous wreck. you always help him by curating the most beautiful bouquets (all of which come from your amazing, thriving garden) and you are always there to help him with his flirting (which needs serious help,,,, i’m not even sure you’re cut out for the job)

you guys have probably even kissed before - both of you were regrettably drunk (don’t tell your parents) and jaskier said he desperately needed ‘the practice’. plus, he wanted to know!!!! was he a good kisser or not? no one else would rate him on a scale from 1-10 with brutal but accurate honesty! neither of you fully remember what exactly happened, come morning, but you remember the lead up to the moment and jaskier remembers the thoughts running through his head afterward... both of you agree not to speak of it.

anyway, when jaskier starts to realize that he has these awkward feelings that seem suspiciously illicit, he knows he has to get them out, somehow, but you are the only one who would listen to his complaints, and he very well can’t tell you.

so he decides he has to write them down.

but clearly they can’t be literal, lest someone stumble upon them,,,,, so he has to learn the secret art of poetry.

you, of course, notice how oddly quiet hanging out with jaskier has become, and his odd questions on flower symbolism, and it doesn’t take you long until you realize that, of all things, jaskier has turned to poetry.

“you can’t make fun of me for liking horticulture, anymore, dandelion. you’re a p o e t .”

“at least i’m a good one.”

and you flick his forehead

“what will your stage name be? surely julian alfred pankratz won’t work.”

“which one should it be? jaskier or dandelion?”

and you laugh, the sound like a summer breeze.

“i knew you’d come to appreciate my nicknames, eventually.”

jaskier frequently “serenades” you, under the guise that he’s practicing, of course, but it’s also his not so subtle way of seeing if you like his poetry and his songs - they are for you, after all.

“you’ll certainly capture hearts with that one.”

“did i capture yours?”

and you, feeling very flustered, especially seeing as you’ve had feelings for jaskier for a while now, can only let out a guttural sort of scoff.

“of course,” and you try to say it over the top and jokingly, but you can feel your face heating up.

and jaskier winks. you huff and turn back to your books.

oh, yikes, i didn’t realize this was getting a little long,,,, let’s speed things up.

everyone knows that you and jaskier are end game. your families think it’s vvv sweet, and everyone that either you or jaskier attempt to woo know it’s only going to be a passing fancy because,,,, have you seen the way you look at each other? like you hang the moon and the stars?

but of course, both of you are dramatic as hell, so you frequently have conversations like:

“we’re piss poor in love, aren’t we?”

“i guess the world just doesn’t understand our genius.”

“terrible that i have to share this lonely cleverness with the likes of you.”

“absolutely devastating.”

and you just sit there for a while, staring at the ceiling.

maybe you guys do some traveling together for a while, but you eventually find a place to put down roots (lol, horticulture jokes). maybe you run an apothecary! that would be precious.

either way, jaskier is a bard so when he isn’t traveling around, he’s staying with you.

a frequent request of yours goes something like this:

“dandelion, play me a song.”

“what kind?”

“a love song.”

and he does, and afterward, he sits down across from you and winks.

“did i capture your heart with that one?”

and some nights you’re a little too tired to make a show of it and some of that blissful candor slips out and slaps jaskier across the face when you smile and say, “yes.”

if you haven’t noticed, the two of you hella dance around your feelings. it’s insane, because catchphrase is: “anything for you” meanwhile you are the most soft™ for him and yet you don’t seem to clue in.

100%, you are going to have to be the one that expresses your love first, because jaskier is the definition of suffering in silence

but what’s also really funny is you both probably try to keep it hidden just how long you have loved each other for, and yet you are both nosy as hell and want to know how long this has been going on, so it leads to really funny conversations where you are both trying to dodge giving a proper timeline, but are drying to coax one out of the other.

ohmygod, i forgot to do marriage headcanons

alright, lightning round: firstly, i don’t think it takes you guys long to get married - you have known each other for so long, and you already act like a married couple, might as well make it official

jaskier refuses to let anyone else sing at his wedding, but you eventually coax him into it because how else are you going to dance with him?

let jaskier invite all of his witcher friends. the divide between your wealthy families and the witchers would be funny as hell. like inlaws that don’t get along but wORSE.

some quick marriage thoughts:

jaskier has definitely learned the art of flowers, thanks to you, so (1) he leaves you flowers everywhere, and (2) both of you get to garden with each other all the time.

sleep and jaskier don’t mix - no matter what time of the night, you can wake up and he’s up and about, doing something or another. maybe he’s writing a song, maybe he’s eating, maybe he’s arguing with yennefer (she often visits, just to antagonize jaskier. you guys are great friends) in the livingroom and trying to keep his voice down

similar with nicknames, jaskier is constantly using pet names, trying to decide on which one is best. it doesn’t really work out, but maybe the most common one is he’ll call you his muse.

and it only sounds cheesy 20% of the time

you guys get to go to parties together! that’s fun - you like dressing up and sneaking away half way through because you’re bored. you guys steal food and hide out until they realize the bard is missing and drag him back.

so we all know jaskier is big on compliments, and it only gets worse when the two of you are together. it’s like,,,, yes. now i can shower you with love and affection at all hours of the day, and it’s okay! he still does his poorly timed winks but he insists they’re charming!

you begrudgingly agree

consider for a moment: going to get breakfast with this man. first of all, breakfast is probably his favorite meal, and he’s always adamant you get a good one (since being with geralt means no breakfast at all). jaskier talks like you haven’t seen him in years, despite living together, and he’s very big on holding your hand or bopping you on the nose. plus, he smiles.

oh! and his singing is 100% contagious, so it doesn’t take long before you are singing around the house, and jaskier is just stunned at you,,,, you find him staring and roll your eyes at his ridiculousness, but this man is in love!!!! let him be in love!!!!

and you also talk to your plants, so you know jaskier picks that up, to. you’re a very vocal couple, lol.

AND FLUFF ENSUES.

-- taglist: @lenalxvegood, @cooloaflandhero, @swanimagines, @multifandomfix // message me if you want to be added!

#jaskier #jaskier x reader #jaskier headcanons #jaskier witcher #jaskier x you #jaskier imagine #reader insert #gender neutral reader #tw marriage #fluff #the witcher

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spencer-reid-in-a-pool · 3 years

Text

It Was You All Along (Part 2)

Part Two is here! I haven’t been this inspired to write in so long, and I promise I will get to all the Criminal Minds and Supernatural requests in my inbox. I was just so excited to get this out. This part is all fluff and realizations, with a sprinkle of pining thrown in. It was partially inspired by the scene in Tangled where Eugene and Rapunzel enter the town and start dancing. Enjoy and please leave feedback!

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

Since we had come to a stop, I looked around to try and figure out why. Geralt never really says anything. He just does stuff.

He got off Roach in a very not graceful manner, and began to walk towards the trees on the side of the path we stood on. I felt Jaskier shift behind me.

“The hell is he doing?”

I shrugged. Then I wondered if he even knew what he was doing. The thought made me chuckle to myself. Until Geralt came out of the trees and stood impatiently on the side of the path.

“The town is this way. It’s covered by the trees.”

Without waiting for our response, he turned and led Roach through the trees by her reins. I guess that meant it was our turn.

Jaskier got off Lily first, then I followed suit. The two of us walked over to where Geralt went, Lily’s reins in my hand. Jaskier walked a few feet ahead of me, swatting branches and leaves out of his way as he went. Luckily, I didn’t quite reach them, so I could duck instead of doing that. As we walked, I watched Jaskier in front of me. The past few days had felt...different around him. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but I felt different when I was around him. He felt different. The air...everything was just different. Not bad, however. It made my head spin and my chest flutter just thinking about it. Only, I didn’t even really know what I was thinking about in the first place. I had never felt this way before. And I wasn’t even sure what had started it. Jaskier was the same person. I was the same person. Yet the feeling was beyond off.

Jaskier humming drew me out of my thoughts, and honestly I really didn’t mind. There had been many a night where we sat up late, talking and singing around the fire when Geralt fell asleep or was off doing something violent somewhere. It was a way we bonded. It took forever for me to start feeling comfortable enough to sing or even hum around him. But it had become one of our favorite things to do together.

It was then that I noticed he had started to hum a new song that I didn’t recognize.

“Jaskier, what song is that? I don’t think I’ve heard that one before.”

His tune stopped abruptly, and he looked over his shoulder at me with a small smile.

“A new piece I’ve been working on. What do you think?”

I smiled back at him before saying, “I like it” a little too loudly.

He laughed and it made my heart skip a beat. There’s that feeling again! What is it?

“Good. I’m glad.”

“But what about the words, Jaskier? Are there any words yet?”

He laughed again, this time a bit nervously.

“Th-those are a work in progress, my fair lady.”

My breath hitched in my throat. What in the world is wrong with me? Am I falling ill? He calls me names like that all the time. It’s what best friends do. Right?

We walked and walked for what seemed like forever. Then we finally reached a clearing past a large break in the trees. And it took my breath away.

All sorts of small huts and shacks and buildings lined the field in front of us. Some were on small hills, others in the valleys that had been created between them. Cows, chickens, and every animal you could imagine grazed on the grass surrounding us. The greenest grass that I had ever seen. Each blade seemed to blow in the breeze to its own rhythm, but together they made a song.

“Geralt, how did you know this town was hidden like this?” I asked him incredulously.

“I heard it,” the Witcher said simply.

He walked off with Roach, leaving us behind as he usually did.

I turned to Jaskier, the weird feeling from before completely dissipated in the present moment. He stared out towards the town as well, completely in awe.

“Why would they want to hide something like this? Something so beautiful?”

“Maybe...,” Jaskier said beside me, “maybe they want to keep it hidden. Until it’s ready to be seen.”

I glanced at him. He had an almost forlorn look on his face. But only for a split second. Then he was back to his regular smile. But his smile...it looked different now. Had it always looked like this? Maybe it was the lighting.

Upon walking into the town, we soon found the inn. Geralt and Jaskier got a room to share with two beds, and I got my own room with a single, small bed. I couldn’t help but laugh at the look on Geralt’s face when he found out that he had to share a room with Jaskier.

“Come now Geralt, it won’t be all bad! I can sing you to sleep if you like,” Jaskier said grandly as we walked up the stairs to put our things away.

“Try it and see what happens,” Geralt growled.

A slightly terrified expression fell upon Jaskier’s features, and I couldn’t help laughing once more.

Once our things were put away and Jaskier finished complaining, Geralt left us to our own devices with only these words as a parting gift: “Don’t fuck anything up while I’m gone.”

We watched him ride Roach away to the edge of the town, to wherever his contract took him. Then it was just me and Jaskier.

“Well, what now?” I asked, turning to the bard.

He put his hands on his hips and looked around.

“What is there to do around here, I wonder?”

I jumped in front of him excitedly before asking, “Want to find some trouble to get into?”

He bent down to meet my height with a smile that I thought would split his face in two.

“Let’s.”

The more we walked around, the more I didn’t understand how this beautiful, bustling town could fit into what seemed to be a small corner of the woods. All sorts of shops and stalls lined the street we were currently on, but one in particular caught my eye.

“Jaskier, look!” I grabbed his arm and pointed in the direction of the stall I wanted to see. “There’s a woman selling flower crowns over there. They’re so pretty, I want to see them up close.”

I dragged him along behind me before he could say anything.

He laughed and said, “We’ve gone into so many towns and seen so many things before, and yet I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this excited.”

“Well, today is different!”

There’s that word again...different.

He smiled and my heart seemed to stop in my chest.

“Yeah, it is.”

We finally approached the stall where the woman had her flower crowns laid out. There were so many different colors and flowers, I hardly knew where to look first.

“Jaskier, which one would suit me? I don’t even know where to start, they’re all so lovely.”

He looked around at the vast display in front of us, seemingly deep in thought. Then his eyes twinkled and he reached forward to a crown made out of small yellow buttercups and tiny clumps of white baby’s breath.

Before I could say what I thought, he leaned down and placed it gently on my head, adjusting it so it would sit straight.

“What do you think?” I asked, holding my skirts and spinning around in a circle dramatically.

Jaskier thought for a moment, his finger pressed gently against his chin in concentration.

“I think it was made for you, dear lady.”

I felt the heat rise in my cheeks and I hoped to the gods Jaskier didn’t see. In order to conceal it, I turned to the merchant who was watching us with an amused look on her face.

“How much for this one?” I asked, pointing to the crown on my head.

“Twelve marks,” she replied.

I dug around in my pockets for the money, but stopped when I felt a hand on my arm.

I turned and saw Jaskier was the one who had placed his hand on my arm, but his other hand was in the pocket of his trousers.

“I’ve got it,” he said with a half-smile.

Before I could protest, he handed the woman her money and thanked her.

“Jaskier! What did you do that for? You know I don’t like people spending their own money on me.”

He began to walk away, and I followed, almost jogging to keep up with his long strides.

“Then pretend I didn’t do it,” he quipped over his shoulder at me.

Finally I caught up to him and walked at his side.

“Jaskier!”

The bard smiled down at me.

“If you feel that badly about it, then buy me something in return. We’re best friends, remember? Or have you forgotten that revelation we came to already?”

No witty response came to mind. So instead, I settled on thanking him.

“It was my pleasure, (Y/N).”

At some point, we made it to the town square. Some sort of celebration was going on, and everyone was dancing around while a group of musicians played an up beat song made for parties.

“Eh, I’ve heard better versions of this song. One done by yours truly, of course,” Jaskier said as he wiggled his eyebrows at me.

I pushed his arm lightly.

“Jaskier, the only thing bigger than your ego is your head”

“There are some women out there who might disagree,” he said with a wink.

“Gross!”

All of a sudden, someone roughly grabbed my arm and turned me around, pulling me further away from where I was standing with Jaskier.

I shrieked in surprise and Jaskier yelled for me, reaching out with one hand, a startled look on his face. But before I was spun around again, I saw someone grab him too.

Then I noticed who grabbed me. A breathless young man, probably about my age. He had his hands in mine and was twisting me about the square. I realized that I been pulled into the dance by accident.

“You know, you should really ask permission from someone before you grab them for a dance!” I yelled over the music and commotion.

“Do forgive me! Once you’re in the thick of this dance, you can’t help but become impulsive.”

Against my better judgement, I started actually performing the dance as well. I suppose the man had a point. At events like these with the music, the wine, and the people, you tend to get carried away. I must have looked like I was waiting for my turn in the throng of people.

Once I let myself relax and the feeling of panic left me, I began laughing with the man in front of me. It was fun. I don’t remember the last time I had danced and celebrated something. Whatever it is the people in the square were celebrating seemed important.

We stumbled and twirled about, passing other dancing couples. It was so unbelievably loud. But it was a good type of loudness. The kind that made me giddy and feeling as if I was floating.

Part of this dance was to switch partners every few rounds in order to get everyone into it and to meet new people. Meeting new people wasn’t really my thing, and I slowly started to feel more and more drained and nervous as the dance went on. All good things must come to an end, I suppose.

I had been thrown into another man’s arms now, the first one I was dancing with long gone. But I just wanted to find Jaskier. Or even Geralt. Someone familiar.

The song was coming to a close which meant this dance was also ending. But there was still no sign of Jaskier anywhere. In my defense though, there were so many people and it was hard to focus on a specific person when you were in the middle of something so chaotic.

At the last second, I was shoved into someone else’s arms, right as the song came to an end. My hands gripped his forearms to steady myself, although my vision was still reeling.

“I’m so sorry! I’m not used to these types of dances,” I mumbled before trying to focus on the man before me.

Lo and behold, it was Jaskier himself, looking almost as unsteady as I felt.

“(Y/N),” he said, out of breath, “Thank the gods I finally found you. I thought you had been kidnapped.”

My vision finally settled, and I looked up at his face to get a better look at the state he was in.

His hair was disheveled and a bit of sweat made his face shine in the evening light. He was breathless, breathing through his lips with an exhausted smile. The shirt underneath his doublet had fallen to the side a bit, exposing the dark hair that decorated his chest. With each rise and fall of his chest, my pulse increased slightly. I caught myself wondering what his heartbeat sounded like. How it would feel to have my hand resting on his chest as he breathed and talked. What would it have been like to dance only with him? Then I felt myself become sad, and almost angry that I hadn’t been dancing with him. But more than anything, I realized that this isn’t how best friends think about each other.

I blinked rapidly to get myself out of my thoughts.

“Jaskier, let’s get out of here. I’m exhausted. Please.”

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jaskicr · 4 years

Text

reverse!au but geralt, eskel and lambert are all bards

(probably bardsexual) witcher!jaskier and his merry boyband of bards consisting of geralt, eskel, and lambert, featuring vesemir as their tired dad, with future additions of yen, ciri and coën (and some valdo bashing)

bard!geralt talks a little more than in the show, he’s sassy and witty in the way we only see bits of in canon, he’s slightly less emotionally stunted but he‘s still dumb

he has curly auburn hair (bc that’s adorable ok) and green eyes, he’s very squishy and pretty and adorable, also he has freckles and blushes easily

he and eskel and lambert were all orphans, taken in by vesemir, a gruff but kind-hearted professor at oxenfurt

they grew up in oxenfurt as brothers with vesemir as their father figure and now they travel the continent as a band (bard boyband that i have dubbed kaer morons courtesy of @kaermorons)

vesemir gave up his position as professor to travel alongside his sons bc they’re really chaotic and he needs to make sure they don’t get themselves killed (but also he’s a tired dad who loves his disaster sons)

ok so one day they split up because they’re competitive bastards and they’re competing to see who first writes a song that gets popular across the continent

this is when geralt travels to posada and spots a witcher in the corner of a tavern

jaskier is a witcher from the wolf school and he goes by julian of kerack

he’s not as chatty as in canon but he’s definitely chattier than a normal witcher

it’s just a normal day on the path when he meets a bard called geralt in posada

geralt is intrigued by the witcher in the corner, takes one look at jaskier’s distinctive silver hair and golden eyes and scarred face and exclaims, ‘oh, you’re julian of kerack’

jaskier is surprised - this human knows who he is, and yet chose to approach him. he doesn’t even look afraid, merely curious, so jaskier decides to see where this goes

‘my friends call me jaskier,’ jaskier returns wryly. ‘at least, they would, if i had any friends’

geralt is stunned. the witcher is funny! and he has a very cute nickname to match a very cute face (even if it is slightly intimidating. but he’s cute)

‘well, nice to meet you, jaskier. i’m sure we’ll become great friends’

then they get kidnapped by elves, and geralt is taken aback by this witcher’s surprising eloquence as he talks them out of the situation

geralt wants to know more about him

also, it’ll be a good way to get a new song, what with his witchery adventures, so geralt decides to follow this witcher for inspiration for his songs

he can easily beat eskel and lambert if he sings songs about a witcher’s adentures

it’ll also improve the reputations of witchers in the process, so it’s a win-win

but also, geralt finds this witcher deeply interesting, and what better way to get to know him than to travel with him?

jaskier is bemused at the bard who decides to follow him. he almost leaves the bard behind, but well, he’s lonely, he’s missed talking to people, and geralt is kind of adorable, so he lets geralt follow him

the bard makes good music, jaskier notes. usually, most sounds grate on his enhanced hearing, but geralt’s music is low and pleasant, and jaskier finds that he doesn’t mind

geralt’s view that all witchers are taciturn and silent is quickly overturned. while jaskier rarely starts a conversation, once geralt asks him questions, he actually talks quite a lot, rambling a bit

geralt finds it quite endearing, and jaskier’s smile when geralt engages him in conversation lights up his face, and oh the witcher is really gorgeous

geralt tells jaskier about his band with eskel and lambert, and sheepishly admits that he partly tagged along with jaskier to win the competition

jaskier isn’t mad. he’d suspected that the bard had an ulterior motive, so he shrugs it off. geralt’s been good company after years of loneliness, and jaskier isn’t about to chase him away

geralt is relieved - jaskier has grown on him, and he finds himself reluctant to leave the witcher’s side

geralt’s version of toss a coin is debuted 2 weeks later and the humans eat it up

within a month it’s spread across the continent like wildfire and geralt knows that he’s all but won the little competition against his brothers

during this time, geralt has, despite jaskier’s insistence that he stay back, joined jaskier on several hunts. there are around 3 more songs in the works, ready to be debuted with his band

a tentative friendship has grown between them, a comfortable banter unlike anything jaskier has had over the long years of his life, and geralt finds himself becoming attached to the witcher

one day, geralt asks jaskier to travel with him to meet his band

they meet up with eskel, lambert and vesemir in oxenfurt at their planned meeting time

eskel and lambert have resigned looks on their faces as geralt turns up with a smug grin and a scary witcher trailing behind him

‘you found a witcher,’ lambert grouses, ‘that should be cheating.’

‘that was never in the rules,’ geralt replies, still high on his victory. ‘suck it, lambert.’

but the wolves take a liking to jaskier very quickly after a chat over a meal, and they collectively decide to follow him

jaskier is very confused (poor bby is confused throughout this whole thing) because he’s a big bad scary witcher?? and somehow all these bards have decided that they like him and want to follow him??

but it’s not like he can stop them so they tag along on his adventures, singing his praises

whenever jaskier gets a contract, he tries to make the bards stay behind in town, but it’s 4 against 1 and jaskier can’t do anything but give in

so the bards huddle some distance away from the fight and watch

the first time, they’re tense and on edge, fearing the worst, and only geralt is relaxed, knowing that jaskier is more than capable of taking down some measly drowners

by the third time they follow jaskier into a fight, the bards are totally chill and start a running commentary about the fight

‘bet you our next meal that jaskier’s gonna run to the left’

lambert snorts. ‘please, eskel. he’ll definitely jump on its head.’

‘as if. he’s gonna roll under it and stab it,’ geralt argues

‘HOLY SHIT WHAT THE FUCK HE JUMPED INTO ITS MOUTH’

they all lose the bet

theyre panicking until jaskier casually slices his way out of the corpse, covered in guts but unharmed

their bets become wild after that

‘he’s running at it is he getting ready to do an aerial somersault’

‘he’s gonna grab onto its wings and ride on its back’

‘he’s gonna igni that nekker and toss it into the rest of the nekkers’

theyre never able to predict what jaskier does because jaskier is just a very skilled witcher and he also delights in how annoyed his bards get when they guess wrong

the bards are also very feral especially when it comes to defending their witcher

someone insults jaskier? they get assaulted by 3 snarling bards while their dad nods approvingly

someone tries to cheat jaskier out of his payment? lambert mysteriously has a knife and jaskier has to physically hold back eskel and geralt from jumping on the person

eventually word spreads around the continent that julian of kerack has 3 very feral bard protectors and a their scary father who looms at anyone who dares speak a word against julian

this is based on a post i made a few weeks ago, there are more ideas for this in the reblogs of that post - if you want to check it out, i’ll put the link in a reblog!

there are definitely more headcanons for this that i’ve already written and i will post them soon!! hopefully one day i’ll get around to writing this because i LOVE this concept a whole lot

i have more headcanons featuring witcher!jaskier disguising himself as dandelion the bard, his rivalry with cat witcher valdo marx, his friendship with pre-transformation yen and coën, and how ciri fits in with it all - thank u @brothebro for bouncing ideas with me<3

#geraskier #jaskier #witcher!jaskier #bard!geralt #geralt of rivia #eskel #lambert #vesemir #kaer morons #(this is the official tag for them now)#mine*

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teresa-of-ficwill · 3 years

Text

In the name of love (Geraskier)

Summary: Jaskier did not remember where but one day he heard a proverb that said something like "if you fall in love with a witcher - you will die." Then he considered it utter stupidity but now... It turned out that it was not just a proverb.

Or the story of why witchers don't fall in love.

The count begins

Jaskier couldn’t say when it started exactly. When Geralt became not just a fellow traveler; not just a source of inspiration; and not just his main income but someone who mattered. Mattered a lot. Julian couldn’t remember, no matter how hard he tried, when exactly he began to be torn between the choice: to write a ballad about the exploits of the witcher or a love song to him. Jaskier was careful, of course. Singing about the love of an abstract girl for a very specific witcher is not so difficult, so he used this light image without a twinge of conscience.

In fact, Julian was not timid in matters of the heart but in the situation, with Geralt, he preferred to kept silent. Jaskier understood perfectly well that the witcher didn’t look like a person who needed a relationship. No, of course, Jaskier didn't need it either. But it was before… before he fell in love with Geralt.

Julian had plenty of sex in his life: he was in demand not only among women but also among men of different ages and wealth but just having sex gets boring with time. It happens sometimes. You fall in love and suddenly you want something more than an affair for one night or a few weeks. You want kisses, hugs, warm words, and confidence that the person you love will be by your side no matter what.

Jaskier wanted all this. At first, these desires were unconscious and sometimes slipped into his mind but they could be ignored. Well… no more. He was in love. He was in love so much that when Geralt once again opened the doors of the house of tolerance, Jaskier felt all the shades of such inappropriate jealousy. He could follow the witcher and take a girl or boy for the night in order to somehow distract himself, but Julian didn’t want to. He didn't want just sex anymore. He wanted love. And who would have thought that this would be the greatest tragedy of his life?

“I love you,” without any prefaces, without an introduction and even without a hint of logic Jaskier said when they once again spend the night in the forest. He had no idea why he was doing this because only recently he vowed to be silent about his feelings forever. But Jaskier, to be honest, has never been a consistent person. He kept his promises and vows but not in front of himself. He was always careful but only if it was not about Geralt. In general, if you think about it, he was a rather controversial person.

The witcher looked up from the fire and raised an eyebrow, apparently expecting a continuation but there wasn’t any. Because the only thing Jaskier was capable of now was to maintain silence and somehow keep the violently beating heart in his chest.

“Repeat,” Geralt said and his voice sounded rougher than it should. Julian twitched his head slightly.

“I love you,” he repeated and silence hung up in the air again. For the first time in his life, he had nothing more to say. And this, perhaps, said a lot.

Previously, it wasn’t difficult for him to talk about his love for a certain lady for hours, just to drag her into bed, but when it came to Geralt Jaskier simply had no words. Not a single sensible thought in his head, except for the one that he had already said, but in it was all the sincerity of his bardic soul which he spent in vain in his youth. It contained all his feelings, all his jealousy, all the despair that was inside him.

He gave himself up completely, without a trace, by just one simple phrase which was customary to underestimate. He allowed the hellfire to get into the forest of his soul and burn it to the ground, not missing a single tree. He opened up in some desperate hopelessness to a man whose silence was hurting more and more with every passing second. Like a red-hot knife between his ribs but Jaskier liked the pain too much to pull it out.

“Do not waste words.”

“I have no more words.”

There was a strange tingling sensation in his wrist but Jaskier was too busy with a fire in his forest to notice. Geralt looked at him without taking his eyes off as if he was looking for something. Studying him. As if looking for a catch where it cannot be by definition. As if waiting for a pod from someone who was not capable of it.

“I'll hurt you.”

“I'm already hurting.”

Julian used to like this feeling but now it was too serious to enjoy. Now it was like a punishment, a load, a fragment of an accidentally broken mirror stuck in his heart. Everything was changing so quickly that even Jaskier couldn’t keep track of it. When did sympathy turn into love? When did it happen? When did it start to hurt? He didn’t understand. All his consciousness was enveloped in a haze, as if in delirium. As if he was dying. Does love feel like this?

He remembered deciding that he wanted a relationship, that he wanted to be happy. So, at what point in time did it start to hurt? It hurt without reciprocity and Geralt was like treatment. A medicine that wasn’t available to him.

“It’s already started, huh?” asked the witcher in such a tone as if he were signing a death warrant for Julian.

Jaskier scratched his wrist. He didn't know what Geralt was talking about but whatever it was it had already begun. His brain was in a fog, the feelings hurt, he needed treatment.

Julian missed the moment when the witcher walked around the fire and sat down next to him.

“It’s my fault,” the man said, taking Jaskier’s hands in his. “If I had not loved you, this wouldn’t have happened to you,” Geralt rolled up the sleeve on the bard's left hand. He looked down. Dark blue, swollen veins covered his wrist, lightly touching his palm, and climbed further up the arm. They took up a little, only a third of the forearm but the bard understood that it would be getting only worse. He couldn’t know for sure but he guessed with some tenth sense. It would only get worse from now on.

Julian had a poor understanding of what was happening because his head began to ache. Any thoughts caused pain and consciousness floated away, not allowing him to focus on anything.

“Will I die?”

“I'm sorry.”

Jaskier wanted to say that he was sorry too but thinking was so damn hard. For some reason, death didn’t frighten him. He felt like on drugs, everything around him seemed unimportant. Everything except Geralt.

“When?”

“When the poison reached the heart.”

Julian nodded but he didn't understand much. He should have had a dozen of questions but there was not a single one in his head. He felt bad. He couldn’t think.

“It hurts,” Buttercup whispered, feeling tears streaming down his cheeks. He didn’t cry. Well… he didn’t want to. His consciousness was too cloudy to control his body.

“Let me help,” Geralt asked and the bard nodded, not understanding what he was agreeing to at all but now it didn't matter. Nothing else was important except the witcher sitting near him.

The man leaned forward, their lips met and Julian took a truly deep breath for the first time in an unknown amount of time. His head cleared slightly when he answered, tangling his fingers in Geralt's hair. The witcher growled and pulled him closer, wrapping his strong arms around him. He kissed roughly as if the man was angry with him but Jaskier knew he wasn’t. The pain in the head dulled and the body begged for more. A lot more. The bard wanted Geralt inside; as deep as possible; as close as their bodies would allow.

The witcher ripped off the bard's clothes without worrying about its integrity. It was pretty cool outside but Jaskier didn't feel - Jaskier was in a fever. The pain that seized his whole body went away with each new kiss, with each new mark, with each new breath that they shared.

Geralt prepared him quickly, took roughly but, for the bard, this felt like the best sensations in the world. The pain was replaced by pleasure and there was just as much of it as there was pain before. Julian moaned as loudly as he could, cut off his voice, scratched the witcher's back, and seemed to be going crazy. Everything was on fire inside but it was a good fire. The fire that warmed, not the fire that burned.

Conscious returned almost completely when Jaskier came. Geralt made a couple of deep thrusts and came next, pressing their lips together. The world was no longer shrouded in a haze but consciousness was still floating somewhere, allowing fatigue to take over. The bard remembered how the witcher hugged him and covered them both with a blanket so that they do not freeze at night, and then there was a blissful emptiness.

To be continued

💜💜💜

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oliverwxod · 4 years

Text

The hardest part is letting go (Part 2) - Geralt imagine

Pairing: Geralt x reader

Warnings: swearing, mentions of sex.

Summary: Part 2 to this

"Another day, another slay" Jaskier mumbled under his breath, strumming a small musical tune , "wait no... Another day... Another... Another..."

"You okay?" Y/n chuckled to herself, throwing Jaskier a look. "You've been mumbling for the past 10 minutes"

Jaskier looked up at her, meeting her eyes with a sigh.

"I need some inspiration" he huffed.

"Things got too boring for you?" Y/n asked, raising an eyebrow up at him.

"Oh- no - that's not what I meant I just-" y/n laugh at his stuttering.

"I'm not offended" she laughed "it's fine, I'm bored too".

"You should be glad" Geralts voice came from the trees, the two of them squinting to see him appear out of the mist that had not cleared due to the early morning sun that was still trying to rise and cut through the clouds so a new day could begin.

"Glad for what?" Y/n questioned, staring at the Witcher. He looked like he hadn't even slept last night. Y/n guessed that he didn't, not when he had paid to spend the night with a woman.

"That you're bored" he spoke, staring at her briefly before looking away.

"But being bored is so- boring" she complained, stretching her arms out and yawning just to make her point stronger.

Jaskier let out a laugh, Geralt once again hated how Jaskier was looking at Y/n. Like she had hung the moon and the stars, he'll even all the other planets that existed up their. Geralt scoffed under his breath.

"Lets move" he grunted, swinging himself on to his horse with ease, whereas Y/n and Jaskier both struggled with theirs.

"Where to?" Jaskier spoke "another great Witcher adventure, maybe I'll get my inspiration"

"Why don't you write a song about me" Y/n spoke, a teasing gleam in her eyes that spoke trouble. She flashed a quick grin to Geralt who glared at her.

"What makes you think that I haven't already?" Jaskier teased back. He hadn't ever had the confidence to ever come up with a comeback to her teasing before. A spark lightening up in Y/n's eyes that had Geralt grunting again in distaste.

"Can I hear it?" She asked, smirking at the bard.

"Nope".

"What? Why not?" She whined "please Jaskier"

"I'm going to save it" he spoke proudly.

"Save it for what?" She asked, confusion closing over her face and curiously running through her. She was eager to hear it, a song written about her by a bard. A talented one at that.

"For when the times right for others to hear it, for they will all fall in love with the mighty Y/n once they do. And I don't think you're ready for all the people to love you" Y/n let out a laugh.

"Well now I really want to hear it".

"Would you two stop this wanton talk, " Geralt spoke harshly. He hated it. Couldn't deal with the bards constant talking and Y/n's teasingly. He knew she was only doing it because she was bored.

"Just because you barely speak doesn't mean we can't. It's just teasing Geralt" she spoke, her voice didn't hold any kind of annoyance though.

"Watch it" he glared in response to her first comment.

"Oh mysterious Wicther, why do though not speak" y/n spoke exaggeratedly, calling out to the Forrest, arms spread open in exclamation. "Why does though not laugh or play"

Jaskier started to strum a tune making her laugh, before he carried on, turning her words into a song.

"Very funny" Geralt huffed, glaring once again at the two of them who had both broken out into fits of giggles. "The two of you are children" he spoke gruffly, turning his nose up at them.

Y/n rolled her eyes when she met Jaskiers eyes, the two of them sharing a smile as Geralt had ridden ahead, now leading them.

"Soooo" Jaskier spoke, it had been quiet for nearing an hour as they all rode, the pathways were widening suggesting they would probably be reaching a village soon.

"Has anybody ever been in love?" Y/n coughed, a laugh spluttering from her lips at the question.

"Why does that amuse you dear Y/n?" Jaskier asked, smirking slightly at her .

"Just wasn't expecting such an - outrageous question"

"You think love is outrageous?" Jaskier asked shocked. Geralt found himself actually listening to their conversation with interest this time.

"Of course it is" she spoke.

"What makes you say that?" The bard asked, slowing down.

"Because I imagine it to hurt, a lot" she said quietly. "Because there's going to be a point where the person you love is going to love someone else"

"That's a depressing way to look at it" Jaskier stated. Silence falling over the trio.

Geralt was a little shocked by her words, y/n seemed to be a joyful soul, much like Jaskier, he thought she would easily be the kind of person who believed in love, the kind of girl that would want to get married and have a family. The conversation died there, the only sounds being those of the silence in the forest and the chirping of birds and distant chatter from a nearby village.

"There was once a man" y/n spoke gaining the attention of the two men and breaking the silence. "He wanted to prove his love to his wife. So he went on an adventure, He climbed the highest mountain, swam the deepest seas and slayed a silver dragon. Do you know what his wife did?" She left the question open, neither Geralt or Jaskier knowing but staring at her curiously.

"She left him" she said, her voice quietening "she left him because he was never there."

Geralt stared at her, figuring out what she was trying to say. The way her posture had changed and the way she had cowered in on herself allowed him to understand.

"Your parents" he said out loud. Y/n's head whipped round to his direction, meeting his eyes.

"Yes. My mother left my god forsaken awful Father" she said "and me"

"I'm sorry-" Jaskier started. "Don't be" she glared at him.

"She was a coward and he was an asshole" Geralt was unsure for the first time ever what to say. He wasn't good with emotions especially other people's emotions. He didn't want to say the wrong thing and upset her.

"I met her" he spoke up. Y/n stared at him once again, speechless. "She paid me"

"For what? To kill a monster because once again she was too much of a coward?" Y/n spat a new spiteful side revealing itself.

"No. To take you away from there." He said plainly. This was the explanation y/n had been waiting for since she had been traveling with the Wicther after he turned up one day stating he had to protect her.

She had always assumed it was her Father who had given him the job of getting her out of the kingdom when the war started. Her father had said it was no place for a princess to be, one of the only good thing he had ever done was letting her leave win the Witcher.

She never knew it was because of her mother that the Witcher was actually there "Oh" she replied, in somewhat shock.

"She wanted you out of there, war or no war." Geralt said.

"Wait, you're a princess?" Jaskier spoke in shock. Both Y/n and Geralt momentarily forgot he was there, turning to see Jaskier jaw dropped open in surprise. "I've been- I've been travelling with a princess- talking to a princess-"

"Jaskier" Geralt spoke "not so loud out here in the open." Conscious of their surrounding he scanned the area briefly.

"Let's just keep moving" y/n spoke "we can talk about it later".

"So we established that Y/n will never fall in love but has the mighty Witcher or Rivia ever fallen in love" Jaskier asked changing the subject only a little. Geralt gave him a stern look before answering quickly and shortly.

"No"

"Not even once in your whole entire life time?" Jaskier asked.

"No" Geralt spoke again, clearly bored with the conversation.

"Witchers don't feel anything" y/n spoke. "Can confirm that" she whispered the last part under her breath but Gedalt still heard, but turned a blind eye to it.

"Well if neither of you don't believe in love than you sound perfect for each other" Jaskier said, oblivious to the silence and roaming thoughts he had created inside both of their heads with his simple words.

The two of them dared not to look at each other, awkwardness falling upon them as they silently follow Jaskier. A cloud of thought running through Y/n's mind.

Would she be sad if she ever had to leave Geralt? Yes. Would she be sad if Geralt fell in love with someone who was not herself? Yes. It was all starting to make sense. The way she felt under his stare, his brief touches. How she always felt queasy when Geralt spent the night with a woman in a inn room and she was left by herself. Shit. It was all falling into perfect sense. She liked him.

She liked the Wicther who did not feel anything. The man who barely spoke to her. The person who never seemed to care.

Similar thoughts were going through Geralts mind. Why he always felt so angry when Jaskier would talk to y/n, taking all her attention with him. How he would always feel that little bit more protective over her when anything or anyone even came near her. If explained why his heart skipped every time she mentioned that she didn't want to be traveling around all her life, a hint at the fact she would have to leave at some point. Maybe even return to her kingdom if the war was won.

"A village" Jaskier spoke excitedly. Geralt looked up, briefly glancing at Y/n, seeing she was already looking at him in question. He looked away quickly before getting off his horse and walking further into the village.

People stared. Villagers stopped still, pointing, gossiping, watching them with caution and hostile glances. An inn was up ahead of them, not too far into the village. They could get some food and drink their, maybe even a bed each for the night.

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

"Do you have three beds for the night?" Jaskier asked the inn keeper politely. "We've been travelling a while" The inn keeper stared at them before his eyes landed on Geralts, eyes narrowing slightly.

"Two" the inn keeper spoke cautiously. "We have two beds"

"That's fine"y/n spoke as Jaskier began to protest.

"Thank you Sir" No one spoke about the bed situation, leaving it for a later problem. Instead they were all too focused on getting food, sitting in a corner of the inn waiting with baited breaths and silence.

"So, Jaskier" y/n spoke. "Have you ever been in love?" She threw his question back at him, watching as the bard blushed.

"Uh- well"

"He falls in love every night he spends with a different woman" Geralt spoke. Y/n let out a laugh as Jaskier glared at the Witcher.

"I do not" he defended himself. He looked at the two of them seeing how neither of them seemed to believe him. "Okay, so maybe sometimes i do. But not all of them" he admitted.

"A bard that gets around. So how many?" Y/n asked in curiosity. She watched as he blushed once again.

"I'm not telling you that-"

"7" Geralt spoke.

"Actually it's 8 but- hey!" Jaskier said realising what just happened.

"Okay mr Witcher what about you"

"Too many to count Bard" he huffed, smirking at him.

"So like a hundred?" Jaskier asked, but only received a look. "More than that!" He exclaimed, his jaw dropping again. Y/n was silent hoping the question wouldn't turn to her.

But of course Jaskier being the curious person he was asked her.

"What about you?" Jaskier said, meeting her eyes. She frowned at him, before looking to Geralt for help, but she found he was looking at her too, his stare intense.

"Well- I've lived in a castle, surrounded by guards for my whole life so that would be zero".

"What!" Came Jaskiers reply first "you mean, you mean you've never?" She glared at him for bringing attention to it. Shaking her head through the blush that coated her cheeks, gaze flickering to stare at the table. She could feel his stare still on her, but she dared not to meet his eyes.

"Sorry y/n" Jaskier spoke "I shouldn't have asked you, I didn't mean to make you feel-"

"It's fine, I asked you first" she said. They were silent, no one knowing what to say. It was broken when the inn keeper came over, bring 3 bowls of hot stew and rolls of bread, the three of them thanking him gratefully.

They finished their food quickly, relishing in the warmth of the meal. It was only when they were finished that Y/n finally spared a look at Geralt, meeting his eyes and finding he was already watching her, his lip caught between his teeth. He didn't look away, not backing down from her gaze.

Y/n gave in, quickly looking away and engaging in conversation with Jaskier.

"I'm going to sleep" Geralt spoke standing up. "Jaskier, you take the other room" he spoke chucking him the key on the table. “Y/n you share my room, I'll take the floor".

"She can share mine-" Jaskier spoke.

"No" he said bluntly as he turned to leave. The two of them watched him retreat away to the door, silent for a quick moment before Jaskier turned to her with a shit eating grin.

"You don't see the way he looks at you do you?" Jaskier asked.

"What do you mean by that?" Y/n replied, confused.

"He wants you." he spoke, voice teasing him, y/n lightly hit his arm.

"Stop playing" she said.

"I'm not. That man” he spoke gesturing to where Geralt had disappeared to “wants to fuck you" Jaskier smirked.

Y/n was staring at the door the Witcher had gone through just moments ago, Jaskiers words burning into her head. How was she meant to face him now?

TAGS: @sdavid09 @c-s-stars @bitcheswithbrokenhearts @fandomhell97 @flowercrownsandmetallicarms @tdntu0 @soulmatelove96 @saelwen-the-shy-elf @momc95 @kingniazx @diab1a @whatanicepanohthatsjustme @marvels-gurl

#Geralt imagine #Geralt of rivia imagine #the Witcher imagine #Witcher imagine #Geralt x reader #Geralt smut #geralt fanfic #Witcher smut #Witcher fanfic #the Witcher fanfic #jaskier imagine #jaskier x reader

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scribblingfangirl · 4 years

Text

GLOWING IN THE DARK #0 | The Punisher - Billy Russo

not my gif!

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Author’s Note: What is this? A new Billy Russo series? Yes, yes it is and then from someone who has only written Jaskier from 'The Witcher' (if the few lousy fics even count) and one Daredevil drabble. I really enjoyed working my way through multiple Billy Russo fics here on tumblr. And while I do not agree with his character (he's an asshole and definitely not a 'cute' bad boy), I am in love with Ben Barnes (*cough* Prince Caspian, Logan Delos *cough*)… so that's a problem. This is why I wanted to throw my own take into the depths of tumblr. Now, I'm no US citizen so I have no clue how the military, goverment and all these institutions actually work, but thanks to my good friends Internet and Google I might have a chance to not totally… hmpf it. Anyway, there will probably be some MAJOR mistakes, so as this will be an Billy Russo AU anyway, just look at it like an entire AU in general, yeah? But then again: It's the marvel universe so anything's possible. Thank you in advance! However, if you wanna swing by my messages and correct me and/or help me? Yes please, let's chat and bring me up to speed on how everything works! :D Anyway enough rambling, let's start, shall we? I hope you enjoy this prologue! This is more of a warm-up to have some slight context, Billy will make his debut in the next part.

word count: ~ 1.4k

summary: A conversation on the way to the airport can lead to interesting new insights. (beginning of a Season1!BillyRusso AU)

warnings: language and there are some sentences that are waaaay to long, punctuation mistakes (in general just a weak English vocabulary)

| next part | - | series masterlist |

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The guy sitting under the tree behind the picnic table you and your friends were sitting at had been playing the same song for the past 20 minutes. Worst thing? 10 minutes into it he even started to sing it out loud, or rather, tried to do so. 'What an Asshole,' you thought groaning, shook your head and started to massage your temples. "That's not how I imagined my first day back in the States to be."

Maria, your best friend, giggled as she threw an arm over your shoulder and pulled you into her side, patting your head mockingly. "What? Are you telling me the soldier boys over… well, wherever you're stationed don't have such angelic voices?"

"Don't know. Couldn't hear them over the purring of our birds. Though I guess they would have sounded the same. Like plucked chicken waiting for their death sentence."

"That's kinda what they are though…," you heard one of your friends mumble on the other side of the table. From the corner of your eye you saw how another one poked her elbow into her side.

Maria released you, seeing how the other ones had pained expressions on their faces as well and clapped her hands on the table. "Well. That won't work, will it?" She stood up, smiling and walked briskly to the man.

"Hey buddy. You know anything else? Because we're sick of hearing you butcher this one."

Joining your friends in laughing at Maria's comment you turned around and caught a glimpse of the man. Poor thing was turning beet red.

"Sorry ma'am. I'm trying to learn this new song."

"Struggling a bit, aren't we?"

"Yeah well, but I don't do requests. If you want one, it's going to cost you."

Three months. It didn't even take them three months after that first conversation to get pregnant and decide to spend the rest of their lives together. It was a beautiful little ceremony, rushed for sure, but perfect for both of them. It fitted right into their relationship. And what a relationship it was. You hated seeing the uncertainty in Maria's eyes now, but you all knew it would come to this. You liked to think that she was accustomed to this, having brought you to the airport multiple times. Yet, you knew this time would be different. She wasn't just bringing her best friend, she was also bringing her now-husband and soon to be father of her child.

"You know," you said as you heaved your duffel bag into the back of the car, "If any of you dares to make me this kid's godmother, or worse, aunt-"

"We'll have your eternal love and gratitude. We know Y/N, we know."

You jokingly glared at Maria before you opened the back door of the car and sat in the seat behind her. "Not what I was trying to get to, but I let you live in your little fantasy world. This way at least one of us can sleep peacefully at night." You regretted the words almost as soon as you said them. So you quickly added, "And you know what? I'll even add a promise of being the best godmother or aunt this kid could have if you call him Pete."

Maria started the car, her pregnant belly making it harder for her to manoeuvre, and shot you a quick look as she made sure that nobody was in the way while backing out of the driveway. "I am not going to call my baby after a bird."

"You're not going to call our child Sparrow or Robin? That's good to know, after all, it will be a Frank Jr.," Frank said, having only caught the latter part of your conversation as he had checked the door one last time before entering the car the moment it was on the road.

"Goddamn Frank… Old-fashioned are we? You do realize though that it ought to be Francis Jr. right?" You smirked as you leaned over and pinched his ear a little. "You're also going to make him sound like a banker or lawyer with that name. '

He grunted and swatted your hand away, turning to look out of the window. "Oh yeah, god forbid he has a safe job and can go home to his wife and kids every day."

Silence filled the car as you slowly slid back into your seat. There it was again. You leaned your head against the window and saw Maria searching for Frank's hand with her free one, holding on to him like a lifeline. After all, it was. Even the slightest touch counted now, as it would be well over a year until their hands would find each other again.

You sighed and watched the blurry landscape pass you by. You knew that you weren't ready for a relationship. You'd love to have one, envied Maria and Frank many times over the past three months but… You wouldn't be ready to leave it all behind, leave him behind. 'Get yourself a military man,' the people said. 'That would be worse,' you'd answer, 'The possibility of seeing him out there? It's slim.' It was already hard to stay in contact with the people you left behind. You couldn't imagine how it would be trying to catch up with another solider. And not knowing if he was still alive? If you'd be able to hug him as soon as you're back on friendly territory again? You pressed your lips together.

"What's the matter?" You met Maria's eyes in the little front mirror. "You seem lost in your thoughts."

You shook your head and sadly smiled at her. "Just thinking of how strong you both are. Sure there's no possibility of me convincing you to allow Francis Jr. to live as Pete instead?" You added the last part to raise the mood.

"What exactly is it with you and Pete? I don't really fancy to call my son after an amazing ex-lover of yours."

You smirked and turned to Frank. "As you know I'm a gunner on one of the UH-1Y Venoms the Marine acquired recently. Our callsign is Blackbird, but we all call him Pete." You stopped and furrowed your brows. "Not sure why actually. I guess the boys didn't like me having the honour of naming our bird and had to overpower me somehow."

"You choose the callsign Blackbird?"

"Yes sir." You did a little salute as well as you were able to in your seat belt. "Very proud of it. Inspired by me being a little bitch who loves shiny things, especially if those shiny things can cause explosions. The shiny things are the bullets," you added at Frank's confused face. "Because I shoot them at the targets to make them go boom?"

Frank grinned as he looked over to Maria. "You knew. That's why you've been pestering me into introducing her to Billy."

You raised your eyebrows and looked at Maria through the little mirror. "Wow hold on. Declaring me aunt of your child and trying to set me up with someone? Someone's gotta show you how to draw a line Maria!"

"Don't worry. I'll be sure to learn it together with my child. And as I recall it you made me the promise to make me sleep soundly at night, so don't start moaning at us. What you reckon Frank? You think you'll be able to meet up? Introduce her to Billy? Somewhere, somehow?"

"Na…," he muttered as he slid deeper into his seat, remembering again that you weren't going on a road trip but to the airport. "We're stationed in different parts of this goddamn mess. It'd be a big surprise if we ever met on the battlefield, right kid?."

"We're the same age Castle, but yeah. However, if we ever fly over your base I'll be sure to wave at you. And, who knows? If we do ever land near your base I'll let you introduce me to your buddy. If you managed to beat me in a friendly round of combat that is. Or else you'll call your son Pete."

"You guys are children," Maria muttered as she set the blinker to turn into the airport, but you and Frank grinned at each other and high-fived.

"Deal."

#billy russo x reader #billy russo one shot #billy russo oneshot #the punisher x reader #the punisher one shot #the punisher oneshot #billy russo #the punisher #billy russo x you #billy russo imagine #the punisher x you #the punisher imagine #my writing #viascribbles

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