#wish the jaskier one was better but i need them to give him winter scenes pls

[witchersgoldenbard]

My sweet darling @mayastormborn asked for some nonverbal Geralt:

Some non-verbal Geralt during winter, and they all allow him to just *be*? No one asks him anything, they just bring him some of his safe-foods and a drink and top it up through the day. Any conversation is through gestures though as little as possible

Well, sweetness, I hope this little thing brings you some comfort and is somewhere near what you had in mind 💕👉👈 (tho it’s not and I will try again)

1.8k words, no warnings except the obvious

No Words Required

When Geralt wakes up with the first light, the weak rays of the winter sun slowly but stubbornly bringing a new day to Kaer Morhen, he knows it is one of those days that will have to remain silent on his part. Usually, he would turn to Jaskier beside him and press a kiss to his brow to wish him a good morning, but the very thought of talking is almost enough to quicken his heartbeat and make his hands shake. No talking, then.

He closes his eyes again and tries to fall back to sleep, maybe he just needs to start this day over. He doesn’t dare to hope, but it might be worth a try.

Despite giving it another chance, his tongue still feels too heavy in his mouth when he opens his eyes again, the world around him still blurry and sharp-edged at the same time. So Geralt has no option but to accept his fate. At least for today. Only for today, he hopes.

“Good morning, my love,” comes Jaskier’s tired voice from beside him, and Geralt thanks the Gods he doesn’t believe in that he can still find happiness in this familiar tone. Grateful that not all his senses are set to overwhelm him today.

He turns to smile at Jaskier, who waits a moment, gives him a chance to say the words he doesn’t have the strength to utter today. Wants to force himself to say, but his heart, his hands, his head, they all deny him. Warn him.

And Jaskier only softens his smile and asks, as quietly as he can, “Silence day?”

Bless him. Bless this man, this wonderful man, for understanding. For knowing him well enough, for seeing, for asking.

Geralt nods, but reaches out to hold Jaskier’s hand with only a slight tremble in his fingers, afraid to find that touch will be denied, too. But the warmth of Jaskier’s skin feels good, the softness under his fingers bringing its usual comfort, and Geralt smiles at the bard’s hands.

“Touch and noise still fine, darling?” Jaskier asks anyway, despite seeing the smile he is wearing. Always asking, always reassuring. Always loving and caring. Always there.

Geralt nods and taps Jaskier’s hand twice, too.

“Would you like me to tell the others?”

Geralt hesitates, quickly calculating if he has enough strength to grunt and hum his way through the day, make enough noise for them to let it pass. But it feels wrong, and he knows they don’t judge. They all have these days, even Jaskier, and it’s always better if everyone knows.

So he nods and is rewarded with a gentle smile.

“Wonderful. And this is going to be the last complex question of the day, I know they’re hard, but technically it’s still yes-or-no? Really, it will depend on your response, uhm—“

Geralt squeezes Jaskier’s hand and regards him with an amused smile. He loves this man so much, how could he not smile even when the world is heavy around him?

“Right, sorry,” Jaskier mumbles and sits up, scratching the back of his head and looking at Geralt. “Is there anything you need? Except to not talk, and possibly the usual, you know. Anything you need, right now?”

The hand still wrapped around Jaskier’s wrist gives Geralt perfect leverage to just pull and have Jaskier land on top of him with an undignified squawk. The bard chuckles as he lies on top of Geralt, their warm chests pressed together like they were made for just this.

Jaskier hums the moment Geralt’s arms wrap around his middle, keeping the warm and comforting weight on top of him. Let the world be heavy, he thinks. I am safe right here.

“I’ve got you, love,” Jaskier promises. “And you’ve got this.”

***

The first time Geralt goes nonverbal around him, it’s a few weeks after Posada. They are returning from a contract, off to find the alderman to receive their well-deserved coin. Jaskier is prattling on about heroics and monsters and witchers, only interrupting his enthusiastic monologues to hum a tune, trying for a melody and always discarding it immediately.

He has grown used to silence beside him, looming and annoyed and stoic. Hums, at most, though they are always more like grunts, noncommittal and monotonous.

But then, suddenly, the hums stop and the Witcher’s ever-focused eyes have lost some of their shine. Jaskier notices these things — of course he does, he’s an artist after all! And Geralt has pretty eyes. But that’s beside the point.

“Geralt?” he asks, stopping in his tracks and watching the Witcher beside him. The same Witcher who doesn’t even notice that he stopped walking, eyes on the road before him, seemingly lost in thought.

“Geralt!” Jaskier calls again. Still no reply, but the Witcher finally stops. Stands. Looks at him over his shoulder. His eyes still not entirely right, and Jaskier doubts it comes from the various potions he has had last night.

“Something’s wrong,” he says, and Geralt glances around after a second, hand moving to his sword. Good, Jaskier thinks, he’s not completely out of it. “No,” he says and takes a step forward, noticing the sudden tension between Geralt’s shoulders. He stops. “No, I mean… With you. Are you alright?”

Geralt frowns. Well, at least there’s a constant for you.

“Are you okay, Geralt?” he asks again, gentler but really starting to worry.

Another frown, but this time followed by a nod. Which is not very reassuring. Jaskier might not know him well, but he knows right then that he’s lying. He lets it go, though, and they make their way to the town, easily finding the alderman.

A wretched man who only wants to give them half their payment, but Geralt doesn’t seem inclined to argue. Jaskier frowns and gives the alderman a piece of his mind, making a whole scene for everyone around to hear. “And if the Witchers on the whole Continent might hear from the White Wolf’s bard that you betray them, that your hand doesn’t fulfill what your tongue promises, maybe you shall surrender to the monsters then. Leshen and whatever so pleases shall feast on you, maybe that will be the day you wish you had paid the White Wolf what he was promised and more!”

Needless to say, they leave with more coin than expected, and Jaskier can’t wipe the smug grin off his face.

Geralt smiles at him for the first time, then, over their small campfire, and Jaskier smiles back.

“Is speaking hard for you today?” he finally dares to ask.

Geralt stares at him. Nods.

Jaskier nods back. Grins.

“Well, good thing you have me then, isn’t it? A bard to yell at stupid people for you. We’ll make a great team, you’ll see.”

Geralt doesn’t say anything to that, obviously. But even the next day, when the first thing he does is insult Jaskier’s fashion sense, he doesn’t mention it, doesn’t deny it. And Jaskier is sure he didn’t imagine that small smile that could have meant Maybe you are right.

Either way, he was.

***

Jaskier leaves the bed before Geralt, promising to bring him breakfast.

“You still have three other meals you can try to leave bed for, let’s have breakfast here,” Jaskier argues with a grin and a fine that brooks no room for discussion even if Geralt were up for it.

And so, they have breakfast in bed. It’s warm and comfortable and Jaskier chatters away, not expecting a response in any way. Perfect background noise, taking away the sharp edges of his surroundings, making everything a little less overwhelming and oppressive. Jaskier knows his place in the network of Geralt’s nonverbal days as he talks, keeping his voice down and calm and so, so warm. Familiar.

It almost makes him feel normal. It definitely makes him feel safe.

When he finally has enough strength to leave bed, they make their ways downstairs to sit by the hearth. Geralt has found that the warmth helps, brings him physical comfort when there is nothing else to ground him.

“Good to see you, pup,” Vesemir says and claps a broad hand on Geralt’s shoulder after looking at Jaskier for a second. Geralt smiles.

Pup. Vesemir only calls them that on the heavy days, and it’s a constant that always helps them through the worst of it.

Life still happens around him, everyone has their own tasks, and where he’s sitting in the middle of it all, he feels like he still gets to be a part of it.

There are warm foods throughout the day and a jug of something hot and spiced always appears by his side. Geralt is not completely sure how the time passes, but it doesn’t matter.

What matters is that Lambert is sat beside him, silent, offering his company. If Geralt leans into him and Lambert leans back, well, then that’s between them.

What matters is Eskel who lies down on the fur beside the hearth and gently pulls Geralt to lie on top of him, head on his broad chest, careful hand running through his silver hair. He talks, though all Geralt feels is the rumbling of his chest.

It’s all that matters.

***

The first time it happens around Eskel, they’re both still pups. Barely grown into Witchers yet.

“There are worse things than not talking, Geralt,” Eskel tells him, Geralt’s head resting on his shoulders. “I know it’s scary. It feels like there’s nothing worse. But it doesn’t make you any less of a Witcher. Or any less Geralt. You’re still the White Wolf, even if you can’t howl. I’ll howl for you, Wolf,” he promises with a kiss to his cheek. “And when the day comes, you’ll do the same for me. Because it happens. And it fucking sucks, but you’ve got this, okay? And I’ve got you.”

Geralt nods into Eskel’s shoulder and tries not to feel pathetic that the only sounds the world gets to hear from him that day are his sobs.

***

But Eskel was right then and is still right now. They’ve got each other and they take care of each other. Howl and fight and protect each other.

They do the same for Lambert on his heavy days.

And for Jaskier, years and years and years later.

For Ciri and Yennefer and everyone who needs it.

That’s what family does. Nothing has to change on the days you can’t talk, on the days that words fail you. There are always people to yell at the world for you, to wrap you in a hug and tell you everything you need to hear. Even Witchers can have that.

And Geralt has a whole family now to tell him: “You’ve got this. And we’ve got you.”

It’s really all that matters.

[jaskiersvalley]

CW major character injury (beartrap)

Splitting up for winter seemed like the most sensible idea. Geralt would head north with Ciri and, at his insistence at not leaving his muse, Jaskier. Meanwhile Regis would lead the others south, down to Touissant for a bit of downtime. Privately Geralt also hoped their infuriatingly stubborn Nilfgaardian shadow would opt to head for the warmer climates and leave them alone. It wasn't even that Geralt was worried about the man following them. Over the weeks it had become abundantly clear that he was trying to help in his own way, even fighting off a stray bandit or two to keep their tail clean. Rather, Geralt simply couldn't be bothered to exert the energy to get to know yet another person and it was another mouth to feed. Given his rather solitary nature, the fact he was travelling with a ragtag bunch was already quite exhausting.

As luck would have it, Geralt ended up with the Nilfgaardian trailing after them, heading steadily north. The weather got colder and sometimes Geralt caught the whiff of another camp fire, creeping a little closer as it that small lessening of distance would give their tail a smidgeon more warmth. It was pathetic and Geralt was more than a little pissed off. Still, at least the trip up to Kaer Morhen would lose him. Nobody was foolish enough to try and reach the old keep alone, even Witchers succumbed to the trail, a human by himself stood no chance. So either their foolhardy idiot would find shelter for the winter in the surrounding villages or he would perish.

They were at the bottom of the mountain, one last night to get some rest before they braved the slopes. Jaskier and Ciri definitely needed sleep and to give their bodies a break. Geralt was content to meditate, keeping them safe. In the distance he could hear their Nilfgaardian make camp, daring to stray as close as he ever had. Frustrated, Geralt found himself wishing that a bear would appear and deal with the annoyance for him. Alas, he couldn't hear or smell a bear in the region despite the villages mentioning that there had been some bears sighted earlier in the year. Thankfully the local hunters had taken care of them. Lost in thought, Geralt almost didn't register the sound of something snapping shut before a pained cry echoed in the forest. Immediately he was up, sword in hand while Jaskier was on his feet too, looking around in the darkness.

In the distance Geralt could hear pained hitches of breath plus a few agonised grunts. Whatever had happened, it wasn't the swift death he'd wished on the Nilfgaardian. There wasn't anyone or anything else in the vicinity so whatever had happened, the idiot did to himself. Probably stabbed himself with an arrow in the dark. Despite all his ill-wishes, Geralt couldn't bring himself to ignore someone in trouble.

"It's the Nilfgaardian. He's in trouble."

There wasn't any argument when he set off, Jaskier and Ciri behind him, treading carefully, a flaming torch lighting their way. Geralt almost wished they hadn't had the torch because then he wouldn't have had to see the scene in front of him in full colour. The Nilfgaardian was on the ground at the edge of a small clearing where he'd obviously planned on making camp. However, the stench of blood around him suggested that something hadn't gone according to plan. Walking up to him, Geralt watched as the man realised he wasn't alone and jerked upright. A beartrap kept him rooted though. His hands were bloody, even worse, his palms had been cut open from where he'd obviously tried to pry the metal from his leg. What struck Geralt though was just how young the man looked. Wide blue eyes stared up from shock paled skin, lips almost white enough to be missed. Only slightly older than Ciri, probably about twenty, Geralt couldn't fathom why someone so young was so desperate.

"You'll need to keep still while we get this off," Geralt said, crouching down. The young man tried to scramble away but aside from leaning back, he couldn't go anywhere. "Why don't we help with the pain a bit?" Hand raised, Geralt prepared to cast axii. Before he could, a rock connected with the man's temple and knocked him out cold as Jaskier stood behind him, hand wrapped around the lightly bloodied rock.

"That will keep him still and out of it," he declared. "It was the kindest thing."

"Or you could have let me use axii to keep him calm." Geralt tipped the man's head to the side to check how badly the rock had split his skin. It was going to give him quite the bruise, possibly a black eye and one hell of a headache. Still, it did made life easier and Geralt pried the trap off. It had snapped in bone deep, probably even broke his leg. Humans were fragile like that and the trap was meant for a bear. Sighing, Geralt looked around the miserable excuse of a half made camp. It screamed of skills learned on the fly, for the sole purpose of survival rather than something practiced in safety before being put into reality. "Grab his things. We'll head up to Kaer Morhen tomorrow and take him with us."

They had more in the way of bandages with them and, while the man was unconscious, Geralt did his best to clean the wounds, splint the leg and bandage it as well as the cuts on his hands. There wasn't much to be done for the headache of the future though.

In the morning Geralt roused from his meditation to find a pair of blue eyes staring at him.

"You going to make an example of me and kill me?" The accent was harsh despite the soft voice. It wasn't what Geralt had expected coming out of the man's mouth.

"Yeah, I wasted all the bandages on you just for that. Name's Geralt."

"Cahir Mawr Dyrryn aep Ceallach."

"Quite the mouthful. Cahir alright with you?" The nod was answer enough and Geralt set about getting breakfast ready. It was only thanks to the events of the previous night that he kept an eye out for more beartraps and avoided falling victim to one himself. He set it off with a stick and winced as it splintered under the metal jaws.

Despite their best efforts, by the time they'd loaded Cahir onto the cart strapped to Roach, his cheeks were flushed with fever and Geralt could smell the sickness on him. The valiant effort to get to know his new travelling companions better was foiled by the way Cahir kept drifting off, a combination of sickness and from the hit to the head. When he woke, it was only Jaskier's quick grab to the back of his shirt that kept Cahir on the cart as he threw up over the side.

It wasn't looking good. The first night they stopped, Geralt helped rebandage Cahir's injured leg. As the cloth fell away, it became amply evident that infection had thoroughly set in. The cuts were an angry red without defined edges to the inflammation while the wounds themselves were puckered with puss.

"It's fine," Cahir tried to reassure with a wobbly smile. "I've survived worse." Which may have been true but he'd probably also been in a place with better medical supplies. The gnarly scar below his collarbone and through to his back attested to his words but Geralt didn't think it was caused by an old, rusty beartrap. If they didn't make it to Kaer Morhen soon then no amount of surviving worse injuries was going to mean anything.

Come next morning Cahir was no longer quite so chirpy. He was still and silent on the cart, Ciri sat next to him and sometimes gesturing for Geralt to look, worried that Cahir had stopped breathing. He hadn't but his deathly pale complexion wasn't giving Geralt much hope. They were still at least a day and a half out from Kaer Morhen, maybe even two because of the additional weight on the cart.

A fever peaked and fell in cycles, each time Geralt hoped it would be the last but, before long, he reached to feel Cahir's skin and winced at how hot to the touch it felt once more.

By the time they made it up to Kaer Morhen, Geralt feared it would be just a corpse for a funeral pyre that they'd be dragging in. By some miracle it wasn't. With Eskel's help he pulled Cahir off the cart, floppy as unresponsive as he was, there was still air in his lungs and an erratic heartbeat in his chest.

"What did you bring us this time?" Lambert teased before getting a better look and his grin turned into a frown. "Well shit. I'll get Vesemir."

It took three days before Cahir was declared out of immediate danger. Geralt spent a lot of it down in the infirmary, sitting next to him. The others could start Ciri's training and Jaskier was no doubt pleased to get to spend time with Eskel again. It left Geralt in the quiet, watching over someone who he had convinced himself he hated. But this wasn't the person he'd conjured up in his mind. Barely older than Jaskier had been when they met, Cahir didn't look like he had any youthful optimism or naivety.

"I'm sorry." Geralt murmured, watching as Cahir slept, breath a little less thready. He should have been better. Shouldn't have judged, not when he was on the other end of so much of it himself.

By the time Cahir roused, everyone had settled into their winter routine. Ciri trained most days, reading tomes Vesemir left her when it got too cold for the outside obstacle course. It left Geralt free to sit with Cahir, watching as glazed eyes opened, unseeing. The worst thing was, not once did Cahir cry out for someone or reach for an invisible source of comfort. In all his years Geralt rarely found someone so lonely. Even Lambert, in his training days, had called out for his mother and, of late, for Aiden. It was a struggle to believe Cahir had nobody.

"Why?" The first word from cracked dry lips and Geralt jumped. He grabbed a wet rag and dabbed it against Cahir's lips, squeezing a little water into his mouth.

"Why what?" There were a lot of questions Cahir could have and Geralt wasn't a mind reader. He startled when a weak hand clasped around his wrist, keeping his hand close. It felt all too natural to take the rag in his other hand so he could cup Cahir's sunken cheek.

"You stayed."

Something told Geralt this wasn't something Cahir had encountered before and it broke his heart. Why nobody would stick around for him was baffling. Even a Witcher had more people looking out for him, he was certain. He cleared his throat, trying to think about why he stayed. It was true, he had no reason to. "I wanted to."

The soft 'oh' from Cahir pulled at something in his chest. He let Cahir tangle their fingers together shyly, looking up at him from the infirmary bed with so much awe and gratitude, Geralt didn't know what to do with it. So he sat back down into his chair and kept holding Cahir's hand. There was a lot of talking, of getting to know each other in their future. But, for now, Geralt was content to offer whatever comfort he could, vowing to be better than all those who had come before him.

[crowleyellestair]

Geralt’s Problem - Pt.2

Summary: This is a part 2 to the request : Geralt X Healer! Reader where she is tagging along with the boys. Over the time she has spent tending to his wounds, and on occasion, savign him, Geralt begins to develop feelings for her but he doesn’t understand them, so he pushes them aside. One bad part of thier trek, she falls through ice, and almost dies. Geralt needs to come to terms w/ some feelings

@boiblunder, Thanks for wanting to be tagged!

AN/// So many of you guys wanted a part two, so here it is!!!!!

 Masterlist

 “Just admit it- I’m the best.” Y/n’s confidence rounded her melodic voice. The sentence was full of humor and joy that hung in the air, traveling throughout the fortress. Eskel threw his remaining cards down, huffing. His hand reached up to rub the scar that ornamented his features out of frustration and bewilderment.

“I don’t know about that, Lady Y/n, but you are good.” His statement finalizing that he was conceding. The woman rolled her eyes, picking up his deck, and rifling through the cards. He watched as she threw them into piles, one bigger than the other.

“It’s because you didn’t take my recommendation to heart. You need to spread out your strength. I knew you had a siege-based deck, therefore I added that rain card. I analyzed your fighting style, and adjusted to beat you- you should be able to do that better than most.” Her last sentence came out playful, and he blushed. Y/n had come to learn that he was too bashful for his own good, the only emotion ever to cross his face was embarrassment. Sadly, for the Witcher, he was embarrassed quite often. She let out a playful laugh and pushed both piles to him. “Keep the larger one, and add disbursed power from other cards you have. Maybe tomorrow lady luck will smile at you.” She swung a leg over the bench, going to get up, but stops before completely leaving. “But I doubt it.” She smiled and left the table, going to find Geralt.

The thing Y/n loved most about Gwent was that it was a great way to think. Sure, the game was based on focus and strategy, but she had been playing her whole life. She was just as skilled in the game as she was a healer, so she could get lost completely in the thought of something other than the game, and still win. She felt bad for the brunette, feeling as though she cheated him somehow. She respected all the men of Kaer Morhen, and she had guilt eating at her. Rather than being a good opponent, she was completely focused on something else, using his love of the game to get herself in a good headspace to think about her problem.

That problem was Geralt.

But despite the weird air around her and her problem, she should have given her all into those games. She saw Eskel as a friend, and he deserved her full attention. Tomorrow, she swore she would pour everything she had into it, especially since she knew he’d be bringing his A-game. He had yet to beat her, so tomorrow should prove eventful. Though, that night could prove eventful too, if she ever found her favorite Witcher.

She had first swung by the library, but her go to source of knowledge was asleep. Vesemir was a treasure trove of info that she had found useful. The last few weeks had been spent learning under him and everything he was willing to share about the world.

The courtyard had an area clear for training, which was her next stop. Lambert and Coën were occupying it, but it seemed they were on a small break. With a smile, she approached the two.

“Good afternoon, you two! Slacking off as usual, I see.” Coën spared a smile, but Lambert bristled. Due to the nudge given by his fellow Witcher, Lambert calmed, but still kept a defensive manner. Y/n threw her hands up in mock submission while continuing her way to them. “I just came to see if you knew were Geralt was.”

“You would like to know, wouldn’t you?” Coën clicked his tongue to his friend’s response, but Lambert didn’t care. Her smile dropped, looking blankly at him. She couldn’t find it in herself to truly be offended. She knew that they were wise beyond their years, which were plentiful.

“Again, I’m sorry for intruding your season. I know winter is your guys’ time.” Lambert rolled his eyes, but he loosened a little. On her first night, she wouldn’t stop apologizing for being there, no matter how much reassurance she received from them. Lambert was more annoyed at the affect she had on their friend Geralt. Lambert couldn’t bring himself to trust her completely, despite what Geralt has let on so far, because she was just as good as the average Witcher at keeping her feelings a secret.

It didn’t help his suspicions when he noticed how odd Geralt had been acting.

He was aware of Yennifer and her affects, and he didn’t need to see his brother go through that again.

  That night, when he was pulled out of his meditation by the main subject of his thoughts, he simply didn’t know how to respond. Sure, maybe glaring at her wasn’t the best option, but he wasn’t used to responding accordingly in these types of situation. Geralt had emotions, there was no doubt about it. The Trial of Grasses couldn’t erase them like it had others, but that had made life more difficult. He was used to bottling them up and acting like they didn’t exist. Witchers were supposed to be passive in situations, as they were too powerful to take sides. He had meant to go for a smile, but the realization was too shocking to let it out right.

Her reaction hurt him the most. She had asked him what was wrong before going back to the bed, grabbing a blanket, and covering herself. The last thing he wanted was to make her feel like he disapproved of the way she looked. He had tried to confess right then, in a raw emotional moment as he was vulnerable from meditation. Instead, he awkwardly complimented her, then dismissed himself.

It took him a stroll to the stables to realize he had left her in an unknown place without pants, and he had marched back in, acting passive- as if he didn’t feel guilty and embarrassed. She had felt the same way, insisting on giving him his room back, and sleeping in the tower. He accepted her wishes, silently scolding himself for pushing her away, though he was grateful to know that he had the option to go over things alone in his head.

And it wasn’t that he wanted to purposely avoid her, he just needed space to think.

Geralt often thought he wasn’t good enough to be friends or lovers with people because of what he was, even if he was constantly reassured- even if he craved their affection. It was just his nature, and he didn’t think he would ever change. Even now, he thinks that Jaskier might still want to leave forever, even after traveling together for all those years. And Geralt wouldn’t blame him, nor would he follow after.

So, Geralt wanted to decide if he would condemn her to him. Would his confession just put her in danger constantly? Would she be content with life knowing a killer would come back to her bed every night? Geralt hadn’t wanted to admit that she did, in fact, love him back. It was only speculation, even if all the signs pointed to her affection.

  Roach had been getting extra care over the past few nights as he would go there to ask her all of the pressing questions on his mind. He was grateful that Y/n had been so interested and open minded about him and his brethren, and frequently asked them to talk of tales. With her distracted, he wouldn’t have to face her. Maybe that was the wrong wording, because Geralt wasn’t a coward. He just couldn’t accurately predict how things would play out. He hadn’t wanted to make a scene, as they still had the rest of Winter to sit through. It had seemed to him that she had unknowingly charmed most of the others, and if things did go south, he didn’t know how it would affect the rest of them. He certainly didn’t want his love life to be discussed among his friends.

“Would you mind if I borrowed some cards from your deck?” Again, Geralt had found himself scolding as he was too lost in thought to process her approach. He patted Roach before looking to her. When his eyes met hers, all he could do was nod.

The world fell away. The chill that hung on the air stopped nipping at him as warmth radiated from her. Though it was growing darker outside, her eyes were like the sun, lighting his heart and mind. She had a reserved, unsure smile plastered on her face, which drew all of his attention.

“Thanks. I told Eskel to change his deck to have a better chance, but I never told him I was going to change mine as well.” He could tell by her tone and somewhat forced laugh that she didn’t want to make small talk, that there was something else. He knew what it was, but he wasn’t ready yet. He was damn near a century old and he wasn’t ready. He thought maybe he never would be.

“That seems fair, though I don’t think you need to.” A hint of her relaxed self had slipped through for a moment. So had Geralt when he knew she caught the underlying compliment in his statement. She looked around the clean stables, walking over to the fence and perching on it. Her hands nervously rubbed her thighs as she let out a shaky breath.

“I’m sorry.” Geralt’s brows furrowed so much it hurt, his eyes piercing her, though she wouldn’t look at him. “I didn’t mean to fall through the ice or invade your personal space here. I understand you guys come here to take a break from society. And I don’t know what I said to make it worse and to make you so dissociated, but I’m sorry. For all of it.” Geralt side stepped Roach to approach her, his hand reaching out as if to calm a cornered animal. When he entered reaching distance, he hesitated, but placed his hand on her upper arm. His thumb made calm swiping motions. He wasn’t sure if it was helping, but he knows Roach always liked it. Geralt didn’t want to compare Y/n to a horse, but his mare was always there, and it’s how he had received social interaction for a really long time. Roach is the only being, other than the woman before him, where he truly felt comfortable interacting with.

“Don’t say that. You’ve done nothing wrong.” His voice was light despite the harshness of the situation. Her gaze finally found his, and he was put into a sort of ease.

“Are you sure?” Because you’ve been avoiding me? Geralt’s face was apologetic and soft. He wanted to clear the air, but he didn’t know if he could bring himself to say it. Those three pesky words that want to rush out of him and never leave all at once. Those three words that have been causing her pain by not being said, but could be worse for her if they were. “You’re sure I haven’t upset you in some way?”

“I don’t think you ever could.” Geralt could tell that she tried to hide it, but the look of hope and shock passed her for a brief moment. She looked to the ground again, biting her lip. They stayed there for a while, Geralt’s thumb never stopping it’s calming circles.

“Do you… Do you think we could do something tomorrow? Like together?” Her glaze flicked up to him, the raw purity shown hitting Geralt like a brick wall.

“What did you have in mind?” Y/n’s lips pursed.

“I hadn’t thought that far ahead.” Her shoulders shagged just a touch, but he could tell.

“I was planning to hunt on The Trail tomorrow, a skilled healer should be present.” He could feel his heart swell when she perked up. A smile burst on her and she said playfully and confidently,

“Well, you do seem to get yourself into trouble still. I don’t mind reprising my role as your hero again.” The Witcher rolled his eyes, but grinned. He reluctantly let go of her arm and started to escort her back to the tower. When they had reached her room, he had said goodnight.

“Goodnight to you too, my damsel Bartholomew.” Again, he felt himself rolling his eyes. He was thrown back into the memory of her saving him from the horde of wraiths and that fake name she had given him. She smiled and softly closed the door, the last glimpse of her was going to forever be etched in his mind. From his perspective, she had a holy glow from a candle he couldn’t see, making her the ethereal being she truly was- too gracious for this world.

  Her feet pounded just as fast as her heart. Y/n had memorized the way from her room to Geralt’s within the first week, and she’s glad she had. She only hopes that he was actually in the room. Blindly retracing her way to his place, she almost tripped. The adrenaline she had coursing through her would have made it so it wouldn’t have mattered. Tears were already streaming down her face, so more from any temporal pain wouldn’t make a difference. A voice in the back of her mind had felt bad, as she was sure that the others could probably pick up on her panic. She didn’t want to disturb anyone, but with their heightened senses, it was hard not to. She tried, successfully, to keep all external noises to a minimum, but she doubted it helped.

Y/n had soon made it to his door, her hand shaking as it went to knock. Her hand never made it to the wood as Geralt whipped it open. He looked to have been in bed as his hair was a mess and he had loose trousers barely gripping onto his hips. When his eyes met her wet ones there was no hesitation in bringing her to his chest. His nose found her hair, lips pressing to the top of her head. His arms locked around her form, and she let out a sob he could tell she was trying to control and keep quiet. He stepped into the room, but never left her. He pushed the door closed with his foot.

And there they stayed. Y/n freely let out sobs that wracked through her whole body. She almost started coughing, not getting enough air in despite her gasps for it. All Geralt could do was hold her. Her hands were gripping onto his chest as though her life depended on it. It took a couple of minutes, but she finally seemed to calm down some, only silent tears falling. She pulled back somewhat, apologizing. Her hand wiped away tears, but more replaced them just as fast.

“Why are you apologizing again? You’ll never need to apologize to me.” Geralt placed a large hand in the junction between her neck and shoulder, the other where it had been on her upper arm earlier that day. His voice was as gentle as he could make it.

“I-.” A hiccup cut her off. “I had a dream, but it felt real. I just needed to make sure you were okay. I didn’t mean to disturb you this much.” He was baffled, and it must have shown, because she seemed confused by his reaction. Her brows furrowed and soft sniffles fizzled out in the room.

“You didn’t disturb me.”

“But you were sleeping-.”

“Your wellbeing will never be a disturbance, Y/n.” She nodded, but he could tell she didn’t believe him.

“Would it be okay if I stayed? Just for the night?” He nodded and let her go. He flowed to the bed, lifting the blankets for her to crawl under. She seemed to find a good spot, and he subtly tucked her in. Moving to the other side, he too moved under the covers. It was silent until she spoke up. “I dreamt that someone got to you while you were asleep. I couldn’t do anything because I didn’t come into your room till the next morning. By then… It was too late. It felt so real- like it was a vision or something. I just… Want to be here to help if anything does happen.”

Geralt understood completely. He was a protector of the innocent, but when it came to Y/n, he had always been on the lookout for a nonexistent danger. Even after the first night of traveling together, he would prop himself up closer to her sleeping form to be there before anything else could be. Usually, Jaskier and Geralt would sleep simultaneously, but they had established a system once she started coming along. Jaskier would stay up, playing his lute for a couple hours while Geralt got rest, then they’d switch for the rest of the night. Luckily for the brooding man, Jaskier understood why, and with little jest, complied completely.

“I’ll be okay. You should get some rest. You’re already here, no need to suffer.” Geralt had meant it. He didn’t want her losing sleep over a dream, even if he did understand her need to protect. He had been resting on his back when she sat straight, and leaned over him. Her hand rested on his bare chest, just over his heart.

“I can’t do that. I know it sounds silly, but…” Y/n sighed, shaking her head. “I just can’t.” She stayed there, propped over his chest.

“Thank you.” He again could see her shaking head, but a melancholy smile twisted on her features.

“Don’t thank me.” This confused Geralt, but if she had felt the same as he assumed, it all became clear. And the look of sadness and self-hatred that flared on her set his decision in stone. Geralt sat up to match her, but a hand made sure hers stayed over his slow heart.

“I do. If the situation were reversed, you’d be doing the same. I too wouldn’t need to be thanked, as I would be doing what was necessary.” He could tell that she didn’t understand, and he let out a soft breath. His heart started to beat faster, almost reaching the speed of a normal human’s. Y/n could feel it, her gaze locking onto her hand the pressed more to try and feel it. “It would be foolish to think I wouldn’t protect the one I…love, even if it were a whim.” Her eyes widened, darting to meet his. Geralt’s face was soft, but nervous. He now understood what it meant to have ‘butterflies in your chest’. “I would stay up every night for you, Y/n.”

“Geralt- this is real, right? You really love me back?” He smiled gently before squeezing the hand he trapped to his chest. She let out a short, aggressive, breathless laugh. Her eyes flicked to there hands, but then back up to his, a fresh was of glass covering her irises.

“I think that’s what this feeling is. I’ve never felt it before, but I’m sure.” There was no hesitation on her part; as soon as his sentence was over, her lips were on his.

  There was a tinge of guilt through every kiss, touch, smile and conversation spoken between the two. Geralt never felt worthy of her, and he knew she worked overtime to try and express that he was. But he was happy, and from what he could see, so was she.

[pressedinthepages]

Chapter 14: Tranquility

Summary: Spring brings new journeys and a returning warning.

Series Masterlist

Words: 1996

(There is a link on my page where you can be added to my taglist :D)

Warnings: mild language, meditation

    When the thaw comes, it is simultaneously too soon and not soon enough. Your feet yearn to get back on the Path, not used to an entire season of rest. But your mind still reels back and forth, caught up in everything that has happened in the span of only a few months. Part of you wishes to stay in Kaer Morhen, finally having found somewhat of a sanctuary, especially with Eskel at your side. However, a much more stubborn part of you still feels the urge to run away from the man that makes your heart ache every time he just looks at you, or whose heartbeat you find yourself listening to without even thinking about it. 

    It’s not as if you have much of a choice whether or not you leave the secluded castle. Blinding rays of spring sunshine appear brighter every day, bringing a gentle heat to coax the ice and snow to melt into the earth. Crocuses burst through the ground, stubborn and resilient, much like the residents of the castle that seems to refuse to crumble. Your feet crunch across the courtyard towards the gate, the final fragile remnants of winter cracking with every step that you take. 

    Lady follows dutifully behind you, laden with supplies for the upcoming journey. Her dark coat is still thick with fluff, just begging you to run your fingers through it. When you had brushed her down earlier you had indulged, feeling the immensely soft fur under your fingers. You sat there for a bit longer than necessary, just petting and scratching along Lady’s flank. 

    Now though, you feel rushed, knowing that Eskel is waiting at the gate so that the two of you may begin to follow the trail down the mountain. The sun barely peeks over the summits as you cross the bridge leading away from Kaer Morhen, and your breath still comes out with little visible puffs before disappearing into nothingness. 

    Eskel stands at the bottom of the hill with the other Witchers, Scorpion at his side and a bulge in his jerkin betraying the location of Lil’ Bleater. As you approach, you can almost hear Lambert roll his eyes at his brother.

    “Eskel, you spoil that damn goat.”

    “She keeps me company, and she’s a damn sight better to look at than your ugly mug.” Eskel bites back a smile before twisting quickly, catching the younger Witcher by surprise. Eskel holds Lambert in a gentle headlock as he ruffles his hair, ruining how Lambert had slicked it back earlier in the morning. 

    Geralt stands off to the side with Vesemir, murmuring quietly and looking at a map. As you approach the group they all shift, Eskel moving to Geralt’s side. He quickly embraces his brother, clasping him on the shoulder as they break apart. 

    “So,” Lambert says, crossing his arms in front of his chest, “you coming back next winter, or do we have to wait fifty years this time?” You roll your eyes as Eskel smacks him on the back of the head.

    “Shut it you, or else you won’t be getting any berry cake next winter.” Lambert balks at your threat, holding up his hands in mock surrender.

    “Oh, no, that won’t be necessary...you know if you would just tell me the recipe, I could just make it myse-”

    “I think the fuck not, I’m keeping that one for myself. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll give it to you when I die.”

    “And how in the seven hells is that supposed to work if you’re dead? Gods, if you’re going to make me summon your ghost just for a fucking cake recipe I’m going to lose my mind.”

    You smile, pulling him into a brief hug before patting his cheek. “Oh hon, you can’t lose what you never had.”

    “Nice, I may have to use that one someday…” Lambert smiles, backing up to help get the horses settled. Geralt comes to stand by your side, his eyes unreadable as he looks over the sprawling valley just below. 

    “Please do me one favor.” He grumbles, quiet enough so that you’re the only one able to hear.

    You nod, watching as Geralt turns his head to look you in the eyes. 

    “Don’t be an idiot.” You turn around, startled that Vesemir had chosen that precise moment to say the exact same thing to Eskel. The older man has his hand clasped on Eskel’s shoulder and his finger wagging in Eskel’s face. 

    You turn back to Geralt, remembering your conversation from earlier in the winter. He knows exactly how you feel for Eskel, probably even better than you do. You take a deep breath, glancing down at the valley before looking back at Geralt. 

    “I’ll do my best,” you murmur, pulling him close for a hug. Geralt only hums in response, but it seems to be a good hum, so you’re satisfied. 

    “Ready to go?” Eskel asks, climbing into Scorpion’s saddle. Li’l Bleater shuffles around with the sudden change in position, her head butting Eskel’s as she readjusts. You stifle your laughter, mounting Lady’s saddle and looking back to the others. You have finally realized that these people, the last remaining people on the Continent who know exactly what you have gone through, because they have gone through the same, they are your pack. And just like the creatures that roam through the forest, your wolves found you, brought you back to them, brought you home. 

    You smile, looking back at Eskel, giving yourself half of a heartbeat to admire how the rising sun shines over his features, caressing and bringing to light the true beauty that he keeps hidden below the surface.

    “Let’s go.”

    …

    “Alright, ready?” The two of you have been traveling for two days now, almost halfway to the bottom of the mountain. The sun has set, letting a gentle spring rain shower the newly exposed earth, nourishing the land back to life. You and Eskel have taken shelter in a rocky overhang with barely enough room for you all, along with a little fire. 

    Eskel has decided to take the opportunity to help you practice meditation. You both kneel, the cold stone floor hard under your knees. You face each other, the only light coming from your fire, burnt down to embers. 

    You nod, closing your eyes and relaxing your hands to rest on your knees. 

    “Good,” Eskel speaks quietly, his voice a low rumble that tethers you to reality. “Now, we’ll just start with breathing. Start with a deep breath in through your nose, focusing only on the act of inhaling. Not the smells, not the other sounds you can hear. Only your breath, and my voice.”

    “And now exhale, letting all of the air out of your lungs. Then just keep doing that for a moment, just focusing on your breathing, in and out.”

    You do, roping your mind back in when it starts to wander, letting yourself focus only on inhaling and exhaling. Occasionally your fingers will twitch on your legs, or your nose will tingle, but you don’t follow it, just keeping your attention only on keeping your mind blank. 

    “Okay, you’re doing great,” Eskel whispers, and you feel your lip turn upward a bit at the praise. “Now, start at the top of your head. Slowly and deliberately, bring your attention to the surface of your skin, one inch at a time. See if you can feel your scalp, your ears, your eyelids, and your nose. Continue like this, moving across the face, over the ears, down the neck and shoulders, and all the way down to your toes. Just imagine that you cracked an egg over the top of your head, and you can feel it drip over you, slowly bringing attention to each new part of your body.”

    As you reach your toes, you can feel your consciousness slipping from your grasp, but you finally let it go. You drift between worlds, held to reality only by the insistent sound of Eskel’s heart beating in his chest, slow and steady in the night. However, even that falls away, leaving only an empty, soothing chasm of tranquility.

…

    “You know, I had hoped that I wouldn’t have to visit you again. And yet, here we are.”

    You open your eyes, finding yourself in a sunny clearing surrounded by dandelions. Instead of Eskel sitting across from you, Jaskier sits there, his legs crossed under him and his hair fluttering in the slight breeze. 

    You are once again frozen in time, but this time you can feel control over it. You feel no fear, no anxiety in the man’s presence. Only a bit of annoyance.

    “What is it, Jaskier? Why do you keep showing up?”

    “Oh, my dear, you really are just as blind as I feared.” Jaskier holds his chin in his hand, resting his elbow on his knee. “I even had those other friends of yours help me, trying so desperately to get the two of you to get your heads out of your asses and figure it out.”

    “What did you do to them? Don’t you dare hurt them, they haven’t done anything to you.”

    “Yet. They haven’t done anything to me yet.” You remember the first scene on the mountain when you met before, with Geralt and a much worse for wear Jaskier.

    “Worry not, though. I only placed suggestions of how to push you in the right direction, I didn’t even show myself to them.” Jaskier smiles, it would have been warm and comforting if you didn’t know better. 

    You blink, still not letting your mind wander past the fuzzy edges of this conversation. “I’m not sure what you want from me, Jaskier. We just weren’t built for this.”

    “Nonsense.” His voice is cold, calculating. “They may have tried to take your ability to feel, but we both know that they were unsuccessful. You need to face the truth. You can, and do, love Eskel. There’s really nothing you can do about it. But you can either accept it, living out the rest of your days happy and together with him, or you can deny it, watching as he slips away again, leaving you to find him only enough time to hold him as he dies in your arms.”

    You shake your head, closing your eyes, seeing that horror unfold once more. His blood stains your hands, his ragged breathing echoing in your ears as you try to push away the memory. 

    You take a deep breath in through your nose, smothering the vision, forcing yourself to focus on your breathing, on your body, letting anything and anyone else fall away.

    But you hear, almost too quietly and far too close to your ear, “You had better heed my warnings, or else you’ll find yourself past the point of no return.”

    Your ears pick up the crackling of embers once more, the smell of smoke and orange soap filling your nose. You slowly blink open your eyes, finding yourself back under the overhang, Eskel watching as you stretch your fingers away from your legs. Sunlight warms the air around you, hours having passed by from under your feet. 

    “Welcome back,” Eskel crookedly smiles, “You did wonderfully.”

    Your mind still feels a bit mushy, but it’s so much easier now to leave that meditative state. You’re not sure how often you really want to do that though, not wanting further harassment from Jaskier, whoever he actually is.

    But, you think as Eskel stands and stretches, padding over to the horses to get them ready for the day, maybe he has a point. I apparently know how this will end, why should I keep trying to avoid it?

    But you’re not sure if you really believe it. What if he rejects you, pushes you away? What then? 

    For now, though, you take Eskel’s hand when he offers it, helping you rise to your feet before continuing on down the Path. 

[diamondcamefromhell]

Jaskier x Fem!Reader pt.3

PART ONE

PART TWO

this is the last “writing gift” from me for today so i hope you enjoy, as i progressively go more and more delusional in this part, lol. i still loved writing it, but then again, i love writing about jaskier so, what’s new. also i probs need a name for this, feel free to message me any ideas <3

Warnings: Swearing, death

Word count: 2,186

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I continued to stay with them, and Jaskier and I also continued training. Each session made me more comfortable with us being close, leading to way less blushing and heart flattering.

But I was still hopelessly in love with this stupid bard. And there was nothing I could do about it.

Things didn’t seem to get better, as we were approached by an older man, Borch Three, with two, absolutely gorgeous women by his side.  They were warriors, Tea and Vea, and they showed their abilities, which clearly intrigued Jaskier. I couldn’t blame him, they were impressive.

We went to a bar to discuss kings Niedamirs proposition, to hunt down a green dragon for some reward. I wasn’t paying much attention, jealously was getting in a way, as Jaskier couldn’t take his eyes of Tea and Vea. All I know is that we are tagging along because, according to the bard “the crazy witch” showed up.

Her name was Yennefer, and she was a beauty too. Great.

I tie Sky to the post near Roach, petting both of the horses. Geralt gives me a glance, but doesn’t tell me to stop touching her, which I feel is the next level of friendship. I hug Sky, purely because I need emotional support.

“Be good boy, okay? I will see you soon.” He neighs in response, and I twist on my heel. Borch stares at me, grabbing my arm.

“You have his heart, don’t you worry.” He silently whispers and I pull away, blushing.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I say, taking out my dagger.

Geralt decided I was grown enough to have a weapon of my own, kindly giving it to me one evening. He gave me two, actually, one silver and one iron. One for monsters, one for humans. Old man pats my arm, walking away. His place is soon replaced by an excited bard.

I hear the names of Tea and Vea come out of his mouth, and I decide to pay no attention to what he’s saying. Geralt seems distracted too, his eyes glued to the sorceress. This trip looks like it will be fun.

Just weeks ago I was terrified of all monsters. How am I now tagging along to kill a dragon? I stare at silver in my hands. I have not used it, not once. Jaskier and I continued using twigs for our practises. What was I getting myself into?

Next to two beautiful and strong warriors, Jaskier will never look for me. No, he will look just to see if I’m not dead yet. I glance at his lute, wondering how can he be so care free, considering we might not live. I should have said a proper goodbye to Sky. But it was too late.

It takes me awhile to realize the bard has gone quiet. I look at him, and he steals a glance at me.

“If you don’t find me interesting, just let me know.” He says, lifting his head up. Oh, if he only knew how interesting I found him.

“Sorry if I can listen to you blabbering about how amazing Vea and Tea are, as we are walking to kill a dragon.” I bitterly say, rushing ahead, hoping he wont try to converse with me again. But he does.

“I was actually talking about Geralt and Yennefer.” He points out, and I flush red.

“She saved your life, didn’t she?” I roll my eyes. “Why do you still hate her?”

“Okay. I will allow you to calm down.” Now Jaskier rushes ahead, chatting up the warriors as he reaches them.

Our first fight. Wonderful. I grunt. For most of the rest of the day, I am out of it. I just follow, silently. I know I must look like an angry child, but I couldn’t control my feelings. I was scared Jaskier might have found someone better than me. Not that its hard.

I only really snap out of it when Jaskier is almost attacked by some creature, and Yennefers knight kills it. Then we set camp. I don’t even try to mingle with the crew, silently crawling to my tent, feeling sorry for myself.

I wish Sky was here, I wouldn’t have to feel as lonely.

I did think things were progressing the right way between the two of us. But I guess, for him we were just becoming better friends, not anything more. I grunt, pulling up a cover over my face. I knew falling for a bard was a bad idea. But tell that to a lonely heart.

I hear singing, and of course, I recognize Jaskiers voice. I peep through my tent, looking at him. He’s wearing a red matching set, which in the fire makes him look almost ethereal. He plays the lute flawlessly, his voice filling up the air. He smiles at the warriors, but they don’t seem impressed. I know I would have been swept off my feet.

Then the bard glances my way, still smiling, he winks at me. As if we never had our argument. His heart is just too big. I rush back in my tent, falling back on the ground.

The night deepens and the voice silence. I begin to relax, before I hear a silent voice near my tent.

“Lady Y/N?” Jaskier whispers. “May I come in?”

“Jaskier?” I ask, knowing its him. I see him peep inside, smiling. “Sure, come in.”

“Thank you.” I crawl to the furthest corner, to be as far away from him. He seems to notice, and I can make his face out just enough to see that he’s frowning. “I won’t bite.”

“I know, it’s just…” I cant come up with an excuse, so I clear my throat. “Everything okay, Jask?”

“I was going to ask the same thing, Y/N. You have been distant today, didn’t even come out to hear me sing.” He crosses his arms. “And you always come to listen to me.”

“I could hear you from here.” I cant exactly see him, but I know he’s raising his eyebrows right now. “I’m just tired.”

“You’re scared.” Jaskier corrects, I rest my head on my knees.

“Yes, that too.” He giggles.

“But not of the dragon.” I don’t respond to that, just stare at him in the dark, trying to make out his face. Did he come here to tease me again? I wasn’t in a mood for that. “You know, Tae and Vae, they are incredible women.”

“Sure.” I say, gritting my teeth. I try to come up with a plan, where I kick him out, without causing a scene and waking up the entire camp.

“But they’re not dangerously cute.” I imagine he’s smirking right now.

“They’re however dangerous. Strong. Gorgeous.” I point out, closing my eyes. “Hard to impress.”

“Unapproachable, I might add.” Jaskier giggles again, and I stare at the grass, not sure how to feel.

“The Witcher is the most unapproachable… being I’ve met.” I can’t help, but smile. “Yet you made him your friend.”

“You have nothing to worry about,” his tone changes, to a warm and reassuring one, “is all I’m trying to say.”

“I’m not worried.” I say, although I can feel heat rushing to my face. I am glad it’s pitch black, and Jaskier cant see it.

“Okay, then you don’t have to be jealous.” My heart drops as I hang my mouth open. He definitely could see that, as he let’s out a laugh. “Don’t act so surprised, my darling, it’s obvious.”

“I’m not jealous.” I try to defend myself, but to no avail. Even in the dark I can see his smirk, as wide as it gets. “You can flirt with as many women as you please, Jaskier.”

“I may.” He leans back, not taking his eyes off me. “But I only sing about one.”

“I-“ I don’t even know what to say. I feel like I am about to burst. These mixed signals, I want to open this bard’s head and see what he actually thinks. What he feels. I shake my head. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to. I just wanted you to know.” He leans over the tent, closer to me. “I do plan on only singing about one, too.”

“Jaskier…” All of the feelings I have been bottling up for weeks have been waiting for a moment like this.

I must make my shot, even if it doesn’t land, even if it makes things awkward between us. I lean in, pressing my lips against his. It’s a rushed, scared kiss, and I pull away quicker than I want to, but to my surprise, Jaskier leans in now, not letting me escape.

And I don’t plan to.

This kiss feels like I have travelled through a desert and finally got some water. A breath of air after I finished drowning. That sweet sun kiss after a cold winter. It felt like so many things, but most importantly, it felt right.

I wrap my hands around his neck, and I feel him smile. No, I can taste his smile. It tastes like honey, and the best ale your coin could buy. He pulls away, resting his forehead next to mine. He giggles, pulling away more. I look him in the eyes.

“I mean Geralt is the only woman I sing about, but you know.” He teases and I laugh, resting my head on his shoulder. “I guess you will do.”

“Fuck off bard.” I say, still laughing. All of my dreams coming true, right here, right now. I breathe him in, happy to finally hold him so close.

“I couldn’t let my dearest Y/N go to bed with a heavy heart.” Jaskier whispers, pulling away. “But I mustn’t disgrace you, and I will leave. We have a dragon to fight, after we are victorious, we will celebrate.”

“Geralt doesn’t want to kill the dragon.” I remind him, as he sighs, landing one last kiss on my forehead.

“I don’t write history, my lady, I write what people want to hear.” He whispers, and then proceeds to leave the tent. “May you rest easy now, Y/N.”

“You too, Jaskier.”

After my heart calms down, sleeps comes easy, because it feels like I am already dreaming.

The morning is pure chaos. Yennefers knight has been slain. She’s on her own, and although emotionless face is still on, I can tell Geralt is worried sick. Jaskier winks at me, reminding me last night was real, but he also seems slightly annoyed.

The dwarfs offer us a shortcut that we take, and no nobodies surprise, but Jaskiers disappointment, Yennefer joins us on Witchers request. When we reach the actual shortcut, however, I feel like I am about to throw up.

We have to walk around the mountain, from the edge. The path is alright for dwarfs, but us, normal sized humans, it was a death wish. I just got to kiss the man I adore, and now I will die. I silently cussed, as Yennefer ushered Jaskier to go first. I followed right after him, trying to not look down, which proved to be hard, as I needed to know if I am stepping on a path, or on death.

Sadly, things go sour. Borch and his warriors crashed through the planks. Geralt tried to hold on to them, pull them up, but they let go. I felt an ache in my heart, considering I never even gave him, or Tea and Vea a chance. They seemed like good people, only if my heart hadn’t gotten in a way.

The rest of us make it through. Not feeling as excited for our mission as we were before. I hated it now. This trip went from bad, to great, to horrible. I was mentally exhausted. Jaskier went to comfort Geralt. He tried, and from the snippets I caught, he gave him good advice.

What do you truly want.

I stare at the bard, as he sits on that rock alone. Witcher went to chat with Yennefer. I slowly approach Jaskier, sitting next to him. He looks at me.

“What is it that you want, Jaskier?” I ask as he shrugs.

“I want to figure it out.” He says. His hand reach for mine, intertwining our fingers together. “You will be the first to know. But what do you want, Y/N?”

“In my life I never felt like I could want anything.” I say, sighing. “But now, that I have the whole world open… I want to find a home.”

“Home…” Jaskier whispers. I wonder what he’s thinking.

“Home isn’t always a building, however.” I continue. “Sometimes it’s the people, sometimes it’s the forest or an open field. I want to find what home means to me.”

“That’s a good want.” Jaskier smiles. “Maybe I want a home too.”

I grip his hand tighter, as we both stare into the sunset. I hope Geralt and Yennefer also figure something out, as much as Jaskier doesn’t like her, she seems like a nice, strong woman.

I would like a friend like that.

PART FOUR [second to last part, dont worry, i wont drag it on forever lol]