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fangirleaconmigo · 4 years

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Part II of Book!Geralt/Netflix!Jaskier

I should just call this the Rosa/Arlo Universe.

So Part I of this story was my most popular post and so I am continuing it below! Everything I’ve written so far is also on AO3.

To get you up to speed, Book Geralt has just met Netflix Jaskier and SOMEHOW through NO FAULT OF HIS OWN, Geralt has ended up with a lapful of bard. Jaskier has also just made an extremely indecent proposal. What will our witcher do?? (about 1500 words. Flirting, kissing. Not explicit....yet)

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Geralt was new to solo interdimensional travel. But no one needed to tell him not to meddle in the affairs of his destination. That was just common sense really. He had planned to wait for Ciri quietly, without making so much as a ripple here. He had chosen this back corner table in this rustic tavern for just that purpose. It had seemed like a good place to go unnoticed. It was sensible. He was sensible.

Yet here he was with a lap full of bard. Here he was, blushing at the most explicit proposition he’d ever received. Here he was, actually wrestling with his answer, instead of politely but immediately ushering the man back to his own chair.

How had Geralt gotten here? Besides the big fiery portal? Oh right, he’d done it to himself. He’d pulled the pretty bard onto his own lap with his own two hands. All it had taken was one adoring look and one clumsy pick up line, and Geralt hadn’t been able to help himself. Somehow it had all added up to Jaskier being so godsdamn endearing. Maybe he was a fool of a witcher, but something about this man felt like his.

Shit. That obviously made no sense. And yet, his arms were clasped around Jaskier’s waist and showed no sign of loosening.

Geralt tried valiantly not to look into Jaskier’s unabashed eyes. He tried to remember his original plan. Keep to yourself. Be a fly on the wall. But Geralt’s fingers crept down the bard’s waist towards his ass, seemingly of their own accord. Jaskier was still waiting for his answer, but was looking altogether optimistic.

“Look out for that one, he’s a menace,” said the proprietor, nodding towards Jaskier.

Geralt startled and pulled his hands back to a more appropriate place on Jaskier’s waist. He hadn’t even noticed the man clearing the rickety adjacent table. To be fair, the witcher was distracted.

Jaskier’s lips pursed and he lifted his chin towards the proprietor. The gesture gave the impression of a prince indulging his beloved jester. He did this without loosening his hold on Geralt one bit.

“Oh Jakub. What must one do to earn your gratitude?” he sighed, as he blew at a tendril that had dropped over one eye.

The way he was sitting on Geralt, his neck was inches from the witcher’s lips. Geralt looked at the tempting expanse of skin and forgot about sensible. He pressed a daring but discreet kiss to it just underneath Jaskier’s jaw. Geralt felt Jaskier swallow, then tighten his thighs against him in response. And yet, the bard maintained his composure, as well as the faux offense directed at Jakub.

“I elevate your establishment with poetry and music.” He continued with a put upon sigh. “And you thank me with cruel barbs that sink into my very soul.”

The proprietor huffed goodnaturedly, looking at the chipped earthenware plates as he stacked them.

“A song about abortion today, Jaskier?! Not even one about love?” Jakub shook his head, as though deeply wounded. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you wanted them to throw food at you. Nothing better than a free lunch, ay?” He put the plates to one side and grabbed the worn towel from its perch on his sturdy shoulder. He began to wipe the table.

“Hmmph.” Said Jaskier imperiously. “Geniuses always go unappreciated in their own time. Typical. And yet I remain generous of spirit. I’m even helping again today.”

“Yeah, how’s that?” asked Jakub.

“I’ll be keeping this Witcher around your tavern longer.” Said Jaskier. He wound a finger around a tendril of Geralt’s white hair and tugged. Geralt smothered a grunt. The entire tavern didn’t need to know about his proclivities. But now Jaskier certainly did. A smug smile ghosted the bard’s lips.

Jakub flipped the towel back on his shoulder and turned to face them, looking dubious. Jaskier continued casually. “You want a witcher around, Jakub. They take care of monsters or beasties that may threaten your patrons.”

“Well.” Said Jakub with gruff affection, “They apparently don’t take care of pests.”

Jaskier’s smile only grew more smug. He finally vacated Geralt’s lap and stood next to Jakub. He patted the man’s cheek. “Oh you love me Jakub. Admit it.”

The proprietor turned a little pink, grumbling through a lopsided smile.

“And look.” said Jaskier, sparing a backwards glance at Geralt then back to Jakub. “It’ll also earn you more coin. You rent rooms, don’t you?”

Jaskier clearly found little use for discretion. This might normally prickle Geralt's sense of embarrassment. The witcher was affectionate, sure, but his expression of it tended to be more private.

But.

What did he care what anyone thought of him here?

He had been looking at this ‘not my dimension’ thing all wrong. No one knew him here. He could be anyone he wanted to be.

But more than that, Jaskier was already a liberating influence. He had wanted Geralt, so he’d walked right up to him and offered him pants bread.

It gave Geralt ideas. He could do that too, couldn’t he? What would it cost him? Nothing. Besides, it wasn’t every day that a gorgeous man was so enraptured with him.

Geralt thought it vain to dwell on how he looked to others. But between being a witcher, and looking as rough as he did, he didn’t expect much. He remembered the mimic who’d taken his form. Geralt had recoiled to see himself from the outside. The distress hadn’t stuck with him long. It was ok. What he contributed to the world wasn’t beauty. It was his work.

But.

This bard clearly thought differently. The man’s gaze was just this side of worshipful, and his scent was pure lust.

He looked at Geralt like the witcher was a lost treasure being hauled up from the bottom of the sea. He kissed Geralt like the witcher’s lips were glazed with honey.

Jaskier was a revelation.

Like fairy lights blinking on one by one, Geralt remembered things long lost: a desire to be touched like he was precious, a yearning for complete acceptance.

Normally Geralt would stifle that. There was no use being overwrought about things you don’t have.

But this wasn’t a normal situation was it? And he had it, didn’t he? It was standing right in front of him.

In his long life, the one thing Geralt had learned about moments is that they can fly away in a heartbeat. Even in the face of interdimensional portals, time stood still for no one.

He reached again for his coinpurse.

He threw a few coins on the table.

“For the night, sir.”

Jaskier glanced over his shoulder and smiled. The smile was made of promise a sliver of tongue was caught between his teeth.

Geralt’s eyes focused on it and thought, He wants to taste me.

Geralt stood slowly. Jaskier had turned back to Jakub and paused to take a key from him. The witcher loomed behind him, so close that he could feel body heat.

Now that he was standing, Geralt could see that Jaskier stood about as tall as him. His shoulders were almost as broad. Geralt took his waist with both hands from behind. Fuck. He fit perfectly.

Geralt slid his fingers under Jaskier’s doublet and nudged them under the bard’s waistband. His fingertips grazed the top of Jaskier’s hipbones.

“You’re a strapping lad, aren’t you?” he rumbled right into his ear, so only the bard could hear him.

He felt Jaskier shiver, though he valiantly continued to converse with Jakub.

“Th-thank you ah, Jakub. And you’re welcome,” stammered Jaskier, finally showing kinks in his brash armor.

The witcher’s clothes suddenly felt rough. Constricting. There was too much fabric between them. There was too much noise. Too many people. Now that he’d made his decision, his patience evaporated into the musty tavern air.

Jaskier yanked his hand and he knew salvation was nigh. Geralt threaded his fingers through the bards, and allowed himself to be led out of the main room and down a hall to the right of the kitchen. The sounds of the patrons became distant. The smell of old beer grew faint. Soon they stood at the bottom of a flight of stairs tucked away in the back. They were rickety looking and worn. But they led to private rooms, so they were a blessed sight.

Jaskier leaned against Geralt and the witcher felt his hair tickle his neck. The bard whispered,

“Come and claim me.”

Then Jaskier leapt up the stairs.

Geralt did not hesitate. He was grasping his moment.

Edit:

I’ve got a (smutty) Part III now.

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #descarada writes #descarada writes geraskier #my fics on ao3 #posada remix

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tumbleweedtech · 3 years

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I got tagged by @rawrkinjd Oh dear.

I had to do a think, and figured if you were brave, so would I be. Because fuck if imposter syndrome wins, ok? I am too stubborn for that. So here I am.

I’ve written 200k words since the beginning of August. This is the first fandom I’ve dared to publish anything in. The most I’ve done before is a few random writing exercises that were pretty much immediately deleted. But this has been a wonderfully accepting and friendly fandom and I just desperately hope we can keep this atmosphere. So. Here we go...

Rules: it’s time to love yourselves! choose your 5 (ish) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

1. The Viscount (70k) E

This was my first fic written. I flew through it- rather quickly. I suppose it needs more editing, I could use a beta. I tend to be bad about tenses, but I love it regardless and it pleases me greatly when people enjoy it. (I did my best to mark off smut so it's skippable)

The plot? Lambert back sasses a mage who hits him hard with a spell- knocking him back to 8 years old. After he was removed from his family, but before he got to Kaer Morhen. It was a study in what would change about a character who really, truly deserved a better childhood. What changes, about him? What stay the same? It’s found family and softness, with Jaskier coming around as well to put someone other than himself first. Also, Eskel chopping wood shirtless. ;)

2. Treasure (2k) G

This is just a silly, cracky dragon!Jaskier fic. I love it because it’s silly and gentle and soft. There’s patience and miscommunication, of course. But in the end, it’s just thinking about why, exactly, would someone stay for so long with someone who (according to netflix) didn’t always act like the nicest friend.

A few people have assumed it’s Geraskier, but I’m a Lambert hoe. So. heh.

3. I bet my Life (>1K) T

I said I’m a Lambert hoe. I... identify with him for Reasons. And the more I thought about it, the more questions I had about his life. Sure, we know about his dad. But he had two parents. And with how intensely, deeply loyal he is, how would he react to his second parent, once he was grown? What would earn the loyalty of a man like him? He said he’d go to hell and back for Geralt but also refused to explain a relationship (slash or platonic) to a witcher he was willing to wade through blood to avenge. Aiden earned a place closer to his heart than even Geralt did. Lambert asked Geralt for help as a friend- but gave no other explanation than that he was the best man he ever knew. Intriguing, no?

I only just took this off anon today. Please be gentle. It is... very close to old hurts for me.

4. Standing on the Precipice (97k- WIP) M

This... this is a love letter, to grief. Don’t get me wrong- that first chapter or two is... rough. But with that much loss, it deserves to have it’s place. And Jaskier and Lambert deserve to find peace within this. Jaskier learns that he’s more than just a bard, more than just what he can do for someone else. He grows, and calms. Lambert learns to internalize the lessons taught by Aiden, accepting that losing someone doesn’t require you to let them go. That love is more than the bright fire that burns, and that no one is too broken to love.

It IS a WIP- i’m... probably 4/5 done? I had to have a break because of some. ah. motivation issues? But the entirety is plotted out, and it will be done. I’m hoping to fly through a bunch over the holiday break. We’ll see.

I tag: @witcherscrane; @octinary; @impsane; @major-trouble

#my fics #witcher fic #tag game #why not #seemed fun

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breyito · 4 years

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the sharp edges of a flower

TITLE: the sharp edges of a flower

AUTHOR/ARTIST: @breyito (read also on AO3)

PROMPT DAY : Day 3- Protection for @geraskierweek

SUMMARY: Three times Jaskier protected Geralt without him knowing it.

WORD COUNT: ~1.8 k

BOOKS/NETFLIX/2002 SHOW/VIDEO GAME: Netflix show

TRIGGERS/WARNINGS: Angst, but mostly not. Hurt/Comfort. Violence, a bit.

RATING: Teen and up

ADDITIONAL NOTES: I wanted to do a 5+1, but it would never be finished, so I cut it here. I *might* write the rest, but I don’t make any promeses. Some fluff to balance the angst of yesterday lol. Tho the last one went away from me a bit and ended sad again. Sorry ñ.ñ Btw, I do like Yennefer, I just think the relationship between her and Geralt makes no sense. I think she knows what she wants and she can be very selfish (no hate there, so can I) but she's not good for Geralt, so... Oh! The two firsts are in the early stages of their relationship, the third in between those last years. I intended to do a couple more in the middle (and might, maybe, perhaps) so that it would flow better but...

Enjoy!

Jaskier is at the bar, flirting with a lovely lady in a break in his set, when something catches his attention. He overhears a drunkard happily proclaiming that one of the patrons of the tavern is going to poison the Witcher's drink; to see if they really are inmune to such things, as myth and rumours go.

Geralt is upstairs, still cleaning his armor (the bard had stayed until the man was clean, but the menial tasks of leather and sword mantainance were not something he cared for much); so he can't know what will happen when he comes down to have his earned supper.

Jaskier has learned by now that, unless this is a specialized poison Made by a mage, it won't kill the Witcher. It doesnt mean it won't hurt him, though. Humilliate him in front of the townspeople if he gets sick; which is no doubt one of the reasons why every one of the men in the table of this drunkard is laughing; and why the older barmaid is going along with it.

So, instead of causing a scene, he launches into another song; pulling all the barmaids to dance, spinning them around as he marches them to their tables.

He makes sure to spill a little bit of the poison he stashes in one of his rings in all the tankards going to that table (one of the cheapest ones, and a small enough dose that it shouldn't kill, just make them spend their coin in a healer instead of more beer) and distracts the old and bitter barmaid so that the poisoned drink ends in his hand.

If he gets pushed and ends up spilling the liquid over the man eagerly watching the Witcher drink his ale...

Well, he makes sure to act surprised and scared when the man's skin starts to sizzle and burn.

(The Witcher from then on insists on sniffing all the drinks he orders, in case somebody tries to poison the bard again; which causes Jaskier to melt a little, as well as laugh a bit on the inside).

He can see the way people are looking at the Witcher.

And it's allright, perhaps his song about the noble White Wolf has not gotten to this nowhere-town in the middle of this nowhere-kindom yet. But they needed the coin and the people here need a monster slain; so they keep their hate quiet and throw their glares just at their backs, instead of at their faces.

But Jaskier knows how to read a crowd; and he knows that if Geralt stops at the inn they are staying at before he goes to collect his payment they will be run out of town with hateful words and the promise of violence (that happened once, just once; because Jaskier promised himself that as long as he was by the Witcher's side it wouldn't happen again) and no payment. He knows that the people of this town believe themselves to be as important as the capital of their kingdom; despite the fact that Ard Carraigh was a few towns and villages away yet. And they had no problem following their King’s policies against non-humans; which was bad but not much different than in other places, like Cintra and the like. Usually though, those policies didn’ extend towards Witchers; but in this particular town they did. So Jaskier, while Geralt left on his own on a week long and dangerous hunt (not even taking Roach!), separated himself as much as possible from the Witcher, charming people left and right.

He plays people's favorites and requests: ballads about romance and heroic deeds, plays the joyful tunes that make patrons drink more and be more giving; and only mixes in a song about his muse per performance, when he has enough coin at his feet to at least pay for supper and a few other things.

He buys cured meats and dried fruits and stores up on flat bread and hard cheeses, vegetables and fats; flirts on with the market people (pretty lads and shy girls; amused mature women and harsh old ladies) and gets wine, soaps and candies for a lower price, and not double or triple like they would have demanded of the Witcher. It makes him a little sick; to flirt and smile at people that would spit on his friend's face; but he thinks that while this time he won't be able to provide Geralt with a soft bed he will at least be able to give him these little luxuries, and that is worth it; so he keeps at it.

When he hears the firsts whispers of the Witcher on his way back; he packs all of their stuff and saddles Roach after bribing her with some stolen apples (the vendor had tried to get him into his bed while insulting Geralt, so he had apologized profusely, citing a previous appointmet, while he snuck the best fruits for the mare, a big fake smile plastered on his face) and marches her down to the Alderman's house. Geralt sees him there and stops, and before the Witcher can get mad at him for touching his horse he starts to babble about sleeping with the butcher's daughter and the butcher's wife and the need to flee the town before he is found and butchered in a goresome fashion.

Geralt grumbles and curses him for the lack of a proper bath to get the filth of the hunt off him; but goes into the Aldermans house to get his coin anyways. He comes out, pouch in hand and mounts Roach and they leave.

He helps the witcher wash off in a stream later, under the warm sun; and it's paceful. He's gentle as he uses the sage soap he bought for the delicate nose of the man, and as he cleans then combs the silver hair with the same care he shows his previous lute. He insists the Witcher rests the rest of the day; to sleep. Then, when Geralt wakes up, Jaskier insists he uses the free time to clean his armor and blades, instead of packing up and setting camp again in a few hours. He uses the vegetables and some meat to make a sturdy stew as a treat; and snares and roasts two rabbits for dinner. If he lets Geralt believe he does all of this as a way to pay him back, well...that is his bussines and his bussines alone.

(The butcher had no daughter and had no wife. Because there was no butcher in this town.)

He protects Geralt from Yennefer once, incredibly. The Witcher is on a hunt (a nest of kikimoras and a new queen, so the bard stayed behind but the horse went along) when the witch shows up at the one tavern the bard happens to be performing at, of all the taverns in the whole city. It has been only three months since the last time they encountered her (and Gerlat has barely started to let him touch him with gentleness when he’s not injured, has just begun relaxing his shoulders and giving that barely-there smile of his that is so endearing Jaskier could die of tenderness) so Jaskier ends his set, finishes his drink like a shot and sits in front of her, and bluntly asks her what does she want to leave before the Witcher comes back.

The mage is amused and surprised; so she plays his game. She tells him she wants the silver dagger that the Witcher gave him a few years ago, for protection. She knows the emotional value that it has, she has seen how the bard sharpens it and always has it on him. She also knows its one of the only gifts the Witcher ever gave the bard, and how the bard cherises it.

He swallows but doesn’t hesitate to reach for the sheat and put the dagger on the table between them. Yennefer is surprised but smiles anyways, and starts to gently caress the blade; and mockingly asks how he will explain the loss of something so precious. Jaskier tells her that that’s not her problem, but if she wants to know; he will say he got attacked and defended himself, and the attacker left with the dagger still inside them. She laughs at his story, asks if he thinks the Witcher will buy it. Jaskier answers yes.

The mage then asks why he would part with this gift, when he surely knows they will just meet in another few weeks or moths; because at this point they all agree that whatever the Witcher and the Witch have between them is inescapable. He says that Geralt is not healed yet, that he needs a little more time before he’s ready for her to empty and crash his heart again. She flinches at this assesment; and when she tries to say that she loves him; Jaskier responds that she loves him because she knows she can use him and discard him and he will still be there the next time.

She waits a moment then asks, sickly sweet, that it’s the same way Geralt treats him, is it not? The bard laughs bitterly, but explains the difference: Yennefer knows Geralt will be there and does the things she does because of this; Geralt does it because he’s still testing him, because he doesn’t think Jaskier will still be there, believes he doesn’t deserve it. So how can the bard hold it against him; when it’s people like her that made him believe he’s unworthy of love and devotion?

The war of looks makes the place spark with tension, and even the most drunk of patrons is mostly quiet. Yennefer knows her eyes are swirling with chaos, yet the poet doesn’t back down, keeps looking and looking and looking at her. His eyes are determined, even as tears escape and his lashes shiver. He doesn’t look away. Eventually, she does. She grabs the dagger and stands up, leaving.

Jaskier is lucky Geralt is dizzy with blood loss and too many potions when he comes back; because even though he washed and changed clothes the man can still smell the fucking lilac; and it’s easier to spin a lie about the gorgeous perfume seller and the dagger that is still in the side of her brother when the Witcher’s senses are not at their best. It’s also easier to deal with the dissapoinment in the men’s eyes when the other is delirious and won’t smell his tears.

(The next time they meet the mage in a town she gives him a barely-there nod before she focuses all her attention on the Witcher. Jaskier still turns around and rents a room in the rundown inn at the other side of the town. He never sees his dagger again.)

#netflix witcher #2020 geraskier week #fanfiction #day 3 protection #the witcher #feral jaskier

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breyito · 4 years

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Always

TITLE: Always (also raed on AO3)

AUTHOR: @breyito

PROMPT DAY #: #1 Soulmates

SUMMARY: In the aftermath of a hunt; Geralt realises that Jaskier has his Soulmark exposed. Despite their many years travelling together, he has never seen that part of the bard’s hip naked. Seeing the image before Jaskier can cover it, the Witcher understands why.

WORD COUNT: ~1.410

BOOKS/NETFLIX/2002 SHOW/VIDEO GAME: Netflix show

TRIGGERS/WARNINGS: Angst. (Not much, but still)

RATING: Teen and up

ADDITIONAL NOTES: No beta, so any mistakes please tell me. Written for @geraskierweek

“Why didn’t you tell me!?” roared Geralt, furious and upset.

“Are you serious right now!?” Jaskier said, also raising his voice. The Witcher, despite his anger, could not help but think that this was one of the reasons they fit so well together: Jaskier did not backed down when confronting Geralt; at least, not out of fear. Unless Geralt could prove his reasons were logical, true (and sometimes not even then) the bard would always match him step for step, in an argument. His approach would change (gentle when he saw the Witcher felt raw inside; lighthearted when it was too soon to discuss whatever Geralt was choking back; stubborn and inmovable when despite the Witcher’s desires they needed to adress the issue); but most of the time he would get the answers he wanted out of the Witcher. “You spit on Destiny every day; you hate whenever you feel people don’t give you choices; you despise being held back by predestined bullshit !”

Jaskier was hurting. His scent, while not sour with fear, was bitter with sadness and rank with nerveousness. The combination was unpleasant and put the Witcher on edge; because unlike the excitable kind of nerves that the bard let off when about to take the stage, or present him with a new song on the road; it was not intertwined with the summer rose of joy, or the dewy and earthy after-rain scent of comfort. Jaskier was hurting deep, and Geralt did not know how to make it stop; how to make himself stop hurting him.

“How long?” he asked, trying to calm down. This was his bard; he did not want to scare him away. He had not really tried to do that in a long, long time. This, this was his soulmate, and whatever reasons he had for keeping his distance from the bard; reasons that had seemed so very important and logical and inescapable just yesterday were now mere puffs of smoke far away in the distance. Still, he had to know for how long he could have had this already. “How long have you known?”

“Geralt, I. I do not think it is a good idea-” suddenly there was no more space between them. Geralt had the bard pinned against one of the threes that had survived the fight with the Griffin. The Witcher removes his right glove with his teeth and places his hand deliberately on Jaskier’s naked hip, over the Mark that proclaims him as his. The fabric had teared on a branch when he had been runing through the trees, trying to scape the beast that had latched onto his scent. Geralt tears the teal fabric until the whole Mark is exposed to the elements. He rubs his thumb over the image, feeling the other man shudder and swallow, looking up at him and then over his shoulder, bitting his bottom lip. Faint notes of the citrusy smell of oranges Jaskier always gave off when he was aroused tingled his nose; but he would not let himself be distracted from what he wanted, needed, to know. Even though he felt an inmense relief at the confirmation that his bard (his little songbird, his companion, his friend, his soulmate-) was not afraid of being near him, of his reactions. He made his touch gentle, so gentle that there would be no way of Jaskier misinterpreting it. He wanted his soulmate. He wanted him as much as he suspected Jaskier wanted him (had suspected for ye ars, in fact; years full of misery expecting someone brighter, softer, safer, better to show up in the bard’s life to whisk him away; years he spent already mourning his lark’s death, just to ease the pain a little bit that would follow when the frail human finally left him).

“ When did you realise, little lark?” he asked, murmuring, lips gently touching the outer shell of one of the bard’s ears then retreating to see his face. He could hear lies in the beats of a heart; and smell them too; but he knew his bard, and he had learned to read the other’s face as well as he knew his soulmate had learned to read his own. Jaskier inhaled and finally locked eyes with him. He licked his dry lips.

“Since the first time you let me bathe you.” was the whispered answer. Geralt choked on air. That had been years ago, almost a decade, if not more. He knew it was probably stupid not to have realised it; he supossed his mark was easily seen by someone bathing him, placed in the middle of his shoulder blades.

“ Why?” the question was ripped out of his chest in a whine. Jaskier must have seen the pain in his face, because suddenly it was him who clutched at the Witcher, one arm cupping his cheek and the other going around his neck, fingers pressing through the leather to touch the hidden mark. He sushed the pained sounds Geralt did not even realised he was making, looking at him so tenderly the Witcher wanted to weep , because he did not deserve this man who could watch him slay beasts and kill men and still not see a monster.

“I- I did not want to give you another reason to leave me.” Jaskier confessed, a single tear running down the side of his face. “I could train to become less of a liability in a fight, and I could learn how to stitch your wounds, and I could sing to earn our supper; but I could never erase your Mark off my body. “ A growl resonated in the Witcher’s chest. “Even if I could, I never would have.” The Witcher pushed his face into the bard’s shoulder, mouthing and scenting him. “I just did not want you to leave ”. He cried, sniffling.

“Never.” The Witcher promised, lifting his head and looking at the bard with such an intensity Jaskier could do nothing else but believe him. “I’ll never leave you, my songbird.” He kissed him then, finally, finally tasting him; nearly completing the palette of senses he had mapped out of Jaskier (the feeling of his thighs on his calloused fingers, the taste of his sweat, the sound of his moans was still missing; but he would take his time fulfilling it. He had the feeling that it would take him years, decades, centuries . Centuries that he now knew Jaskier would be there for). Jaskier, of course, being Jaskier, could not keep quiet even when he continued with their frantic touches.

“I was always yours; before I knew about the Mark.” he said, peppering kisses and little bites on the Witcher’s jaw. “I chose you before I knew Destiny chose you for me; and I wanted you to choose me too. I wanted you to love me for me and not for a pair of pretty pictures.” He bit him hard on the neck; the sting making the Witcher re-focus on his bards eyes. “I know you do; so why? Why never reach out for me until now?” He asked, stopping their kissing. The Witcher took a deep breath and let it out slowly, taking his time putting the words he wanted to say in order.

“Because I’m a coward, and I could not bring myself to have you fully, if it meant losing you anyways.” The Witcher said, rubbing the bard’s Mark again. “I love you, have loved you for so very long; but I did not know . You are human, Jaskier. Until this very moment, that meant to me that you would wither away of old age, and leave me alone again.”

“Geralt, I’m still human.” Jaskier said, baffled.

“Yes, you are human; but you are a Witcher’s soulmate.” He smiled, and the bard could not do anything but return it; because it was full of joy and hope . “The only gift the Universe ever gave us Witchers was shared longevity for our soulmates. If we ever found them; if they ever wanted us.” he finished, looking at Jaskier with a burning question in those hopeful and fearful eyes.

“I do, I want you. I want you so very much that no amount of years or longevity will be enough time at your side, my wolf.”

They started kissing once again; and when the felt a tingle of magic sorround them they only smiled and kissed harder; because the magic was bening and shared between the two.

#2020 geraskier week #netflix witcher #fanfiction #day 1 soulmates

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