I would love to hear about True Slug's Kiss and/or Yen/Essi!
True Slug's Kiss is a cracky little curse fic I finally got around to writing while I was camping! Here's a snippet:
Jaskier passed the tall beech he had noticed just behind where the flash had been. He picked his way through large, scattered blocks of stone strewn across a cobbled street.
“Geralt!” he called. There was no response. Taking a deep breath, he rounded a corner and looked into the courtyard where he thought the probably-magic had taken place.
The sight that greeted him was… not what he expected. For one thing, there was no particularly unusual wreckage or carnage. There was no sign of a fight. The courtyard, in fact, was completely unoccupied — except for a large, yellow something beside a heap of stones right in the center.
Yen/Essi is a little AU where Yennefer saves many people from a plague, including Essi! I'm only about 500 words in but I'm excited to finish it. Here's a snippet:
The work is unremarkable. After hundreds of such cases, Yennefer is used to it. In a little more than half an hour, she deems the girl to be stable and sinks into her chair, wiping her forehead.
The woman stirs. She tosses. After a few moments, she opens her eyes.
The first thing Yennefer notices is that, though her sweat-soaked bangs have fallen over one eye, the other is very, very blue.
The woman looks around her. She sees Yennefer. She blinks.
“Hello,” she says slowly. She sounds significantly less frightened than most of Yennefer’s patients do, upon waking up feeling different in a strange room with an unfamiliar violet-eyed woman standing over them.
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Jaskier is a twentysomething recently unemployed journalist and amateur musician looking for his big break. So when he’s saved from the jaws of a wyvern by the infamous Butcher of Blaviken, Geralt of Rivia, he comes up with a brilliant idea: he’ll follow the Witcher around and sing about their exploits. He’ll gain fame and fortune and Geralt will get a much needed image rehab. Everyone wins.
Unless Jaskier goes and falls in love like an idiot.
Ooh, excellent choice! This is inspired by one of the wonderful @witcher-rarepairs prompts. I don't have a whole lot of written yet, but I'm having a lot of fun so far! This is the prompt:
After years recovering from the injuries she sustained in Blaviken, Renfri wants revenge against Geralt. She plans to get it by killing the bard who's always following him around. Except, once she meets Jaskier, she finds that she actually likes the little shit.
Also, because I like it, here's the current opening! (Under the cut for implied being-buried-alive)
Given how life has treated Renfri so far, it was really too optimistic to assume it would let her die peacefully.
An unknown amount of time after the last thing she remembers, after handsome golden eyes stared heartbrokenly into hers as a sword pierced her heart, she wakes. She barely realizes it at first: her head is groggy as though she had been trying to sleep off the Continent’s worst hangover, and her whole body aches. It seems reasonably like death.
Then she realizes that if she is dead, she shouldn’t have a body capable of aching.
The longer she thinks, the more awareness creeps back into her body. She is cold. She feels dirty, covered in both soil and blood. Her chest hurts, almost as much as it did when she was stabbed, but it’s a more aching sort of pain. Breathing does not come easily.
After a few moments of struggle, she manages to open her eyes. She is met with utter darkness. She shifts her hand. There is rough, dirty wood beneath it. She shifts her arm. It quickly meets a wooden wall. After a moment and a few deep breaths, she tries to sit up. She barely moves a few inches before hits her head on yet more wood.
She lies back down. She takes a few deep breaths. She thinks about her situation, and she comes to a realization.
Thanks for tagging me @ghostinthelibrarywrites! This was fun.
Rules: give us the links to your wonderful words with the Most hits/Most kudos/Most comments/Most bookmarks /Most words/Least words
Most hits, most comments, and most bookmarks: Sometimes it Takes a Prison Cell, my Geraskefer AU where Jaskier and Yennefer meet in a dungeon! I had a blast writing it and the response to it blew me away.
Most kudos: The Wolves and the Bard, a little ficlet about Jaskier finding his place in Geralt's family, though it's been neck and neck with I'll Stand Here With You for a long time. They were both among my earlier works in the fandom and I'm still fond of them!
Most words: A Tale of Two Bards (and also a Witcher), with just under 35k words. It's my Witcher/Silmarillion crossover and my first work in the Witcher fandom! I did write a longer story once (a ~90k LotR fic about Faramir) but that was four or five years ago now and I never worked up the courage to post it.
Least words: Songbirds, a little Pride & Prejudice ficlet for a friend's birthday with 141 words.
Tagging @bambirex @cherryjuicegf @samstree @dreamofbecoming @karolincki @dancingwiththefae @blaidd-gwyn and anyone else who feels like it!
#20 Saving their life for Yennskier or Geraskefer, please! Have fun on your trip!
Thank you so much for the prompt! This turned out about twice as long as I meant it to, but it's finally done and now I have 4k of Yennskier-centric Geraskefer, featuring cuddling for warmth!
Also on AO3!
~~~
Yennefer is wandering the Blue Mountains and, quite frankly, having a wonderful day.
She, Geralt, and Jaskier are enjoying the chance to leave Kaer Morhen, taking advantage of a rare sunny day to search for good places where Ciri can practice the more explosive varieties of magic. They left the keep that morning, and now the afternoon is drawing to a close.They have found several promising-looking locations so far, but, more importantly, Yennefer has enjoyed herself immensely.
Jaskier is almost back to his usual cheer, talking and laughing incessantly, and Geralt smiles when Jaskier makes a joke or does something stupid. The sky is blue. The snow glitters beautifully in the afternoon sun. The breeze, which has been picking up slowly all day, is pleasant. Even the stones seem more interesting than usual. It is a break that all three of them very much needed.
They come to a fork in the small trail they’ve been following. One path curves around the edge of a bit of mountain that’s steeper than the rest, and the other winds its way up said mountain beside a small but loud creek.
“I’ll see if there’s anything interesting up there,” says Geralt. “You two keep going. I’ll catch up.”
“If you wanted some peace and quiet, you could have said so,” says Jaskier with a laugh.
“Would you have listened, though?” Yennefer asks, smirking.
“Good point. Probably not.”
Yennefer and Geralt share a laugh, and they go their separate ways.
The view along this path is beautiful; the jagged peaks of the other mountains around them are cast in dramatic light and shadow as the afternoon goes on, making the snow gleam like a jewel. She can’t help but notice the way Jaskier’s hair catches the light, seeming almost gold where it shines. She smiles to herself. Geralt is missing out.
This, of course, is when the mountain collapses.
The only warning they have is a cracking sound and some deep, ominous rumbling before a thundering torrent of snow envelops them and sends them tumbling off their feet. Yennefer finds herself on her back, her vision alternating between being filled by the blue sky and completely obscured by snow. She hears Jaskier cry out somewhere nearby and tries to grab hold of him, but she can’t find him. Soon, all her attention is taken up by trying to use her chaos to avoid being drowned in the fucking avalanche that Destiny has seen fit to throw her into.
Eventually, after what could have been hours or minutes, the snow finally comes to a stop. Yennefer digs herself out of the snow with surprisingly little difficulty and gets to her feet. She looks around. She is far enough down the mountain that she no longer knows where the path is, surrounded by a mess of snow that obscures any landmarks that might have been there. There is no sign of the bard.
“Jaskier!” she shouts. Her voice seems to disappear into the expanse of wilderness, fading far too quickly for her liking. “Jaskier!”
She holds still and listens. There is no sound but the faint hissing of the wind, whipping her dress around her legs. Her heartbeat is loud in her ears. She tries very hard not to panic.
“Yennefer!” called a faint, blessedly familiar voice.
“Jaskier!” She doesn’t bother to hide the relief in her voice. “Where are you?”
“I— I think I’m under a tree!”
Yennefer squints in the direction of Jaskier’s voice. There are several fallen trees strewn across the mountainside.
“Which one?” she shouts.
“How the fuck should I know? I’m underneath it!”
“What kind of tree?”
“I don’t know! It has needles!”
“All the trees have needles!”
“I know!”
“Nevermind. Just keep talking!” Yennefer starts to wade through the snow towards the first of the many trees in the direction of Jaskier’s voice.
“As delighted as I am to be asked to do that,” Jaskier shouts back, “I’m not sure I can sustain this amount of yelling. I’m rather squished!”
“Well, shout when I tell you to!”
“Got it!”
Jaskier falls silent. Yennefer tries to ignore the way the absence of his voice makes her nervous. Jaskier is fine.
She reaches the fallen tree closest to her. Jaskier is not there. It takes four more trees and a few more shouts from Jaskier before, to her great relief, she finally finds him.
He is, indeed, under a tree. It is laying mostly across his legs, but its broken and snowy branches cover much of the left half of his torso and his left hand seems to be pinned somewhere beneath it. His face is scratched and a little dirty and his hair is rather wet. Now that Yennefer can see him, she sees the pain on his face that he kept hidden when speaking. He obviously did not make it through the avalanche as unscathed as Yennefer.
“So,” says Jaskier, managing a smile, “I’m guessing this is not the place for Ciri to practice exploding things.”
That startles a laugh out of Yennefer. “No, probably not.” She sees Jaskier shift a little and grimace in pain, and the humor leaves her as quickly as it came. “How badly are you injured?”
“Well, the tree is mostly on the snow, not me. And I’m not bleeding. But something definitely hurts down there” — Jaskier uses his free hand to gesture at the half of him that is covered by the tree — “And I’m not sure how bad it is.”
He’s shivering, Yennefer notices with no small amount of alarm. It’s a wonder his teeth aren’t chattering.
“How much does it hurt?”
“It’s not aftermath-of-torture bad, but it is not pleasant. I would very much like to get out from under this tree, please.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Yennefer’s magic has returned, but she’s still adjusting to it, settling back into it like a dress she hasn’t worn in years. Most of the time it works normally, more or less, but every now and then it’ll catch or snap in odd ways and not do what she told it to. She’ll have to be careful — she can’t risk hurting Jaskier now.
She closes her eyes and focuses. She feels around the edges of her chaos. She takes a deep breath, gathers herself, and mutters a spell to move the tree.
Jaskier cries out in pain.
Yennefer stops immediately. Jaskier groans.
“What happened?” Yennefer asks, opening her eyes.
“It moved sideways,” Jaskier pants. The tree has shifted somewhat, and Jaskier’s clothes are noticeably more torn than they were a moment ago. His eyes are squeezed shut and his face is pale.
“Shit. Sorry.”
“Thank you. Don’t do it again.”
“I don’t know if I can move it without doing that again.”
“Fuck.”
“Yeah.”
“Can you portal us out of here?”
“Not if you can’t walk through the portal.”
“Fuck.”
Yennefer falls silent. After a moment, Jaskier opens his eyes to glare at her.
“What now? Are you just going to stand there while I freeze?”
“I’m trying to think of a way out of this!”
“Can’t you vanish the tree or something?”
Yennefer raises an eyebrow at him. “And what if I miss and injure you?”
“Can you melt the snow?”
“Same problem. I might burn you. Or drown you in melted snow.”
“I will admit that sounds unpleasant.”
There’s another moment of silence.
“So, do I just have to stay here until the tree magically decides to go away?”
“Geralt is… somewhere around here. I don’t think he would have been caught in the avalanche. If we can’t think of anything, he’ll find us eventually.”
"Right. So we’re waiting here to be rescued?"
“Unless you have a better idea?”
“You’re the magic expert. I don’t know how this works.”
“Well then, we wait until we can think of something.”
“Great. No worries. I’m having so much fun here, stuck under a fucking tree in the snow.”
Yennefer kicks him (very, very gently) in the shoulder. Jaskier hisses at her like an irritated kitten.
“Look on the bright side. At least you aren’t alone.”
“Yes, your presence is such a comfort right now.”
Yennefer ignores his sarcasm. “I’m glad to be of help.”
She blithely ignores his glare, sits down beside him, and settles down to wait.
They talk to pass the time. At first, Jaskier rambles while Yennefer listens and occasionally chimes in. Then, later, as Jaskier grows more tired and cold and generally unhappy, Yennefer begins to say more.
She tells him whatever comes to mind, everything from innocuous stories about her Aretuza days to tales she heard at court. Jaskier listens, obviously fascinated. He asks questions and makes comments. It’s more pleasant than she expected, telling stories like this to a willing audience and helping distract Jaskier from his pain. She wonders if this is what Jaskier sees in being a bard.
They sit there for a long while. Yennefer tries not to note the passage of time, but she finds herself keeping an eye on the sun’s movement despite herself. Geralt has not come yet, but he will. She has to believe that.
After a time, the wind picks up. Clouds come with it, and the sky begins to turn gray. Snow starts to fall, gentle and unhurried. It would be beautiful under any other circumstances. Now, all Yennefer feels is dread.
She carefully casts a shield to keep the snow from falling on them and block out the worst of the wind. She keeps talking to Jaskier. They will be fine. She will have enough energy to maintain the spell, the snow will not keep Geralt from finding them, and everything will be all right.
The snow keeps falling.
“I could try to move the tree again,” says Yennefer.
“Please don’t,” says Jaskier. The way his voice shakes a little at the thought is more than enough to dissuade Yennefer from the idea.
Although, if Geralt can’t find them in the snow, she may not have another choice.
“I might have to try it if things don’t get better soon.”
Jaskier grimaces. “Maybe knock me out or something first, then.”
Yennefer does not like that idea. If she knocks Jaskier out, there’s a faint possibility he might not wake up again.
“All right,” she finds herself saying anyway. The bard’s sad face should not have such an effect on her. It must be the fatigue.
The snow keeps falling.
Holding a spell for so long, especially so soon after getting her chaos back, is draining. Even a relatively uncomplicated piece of magic like this one becomes tiring after a while. She can feel her exhaustion slowly growing.
Time and fatigue begin to take their toll on Jaskier, as well. His speech becomes increasingly rambling and a little slurred, as though he’d been woken up in the middle of the night. Yennefer tries not to be too worried. There's nothing she can do right now, and she needs to hold herself together for both their sakes.
She tries not to look too closely at his face. If she does, she'll see all the pain and exhaustion Jaskier must be feeling, and she might do something she’ll regret.
It’s not often that Yennefer dislikes her small stature. She knows she’s far more powerful than any broad or brawny man could be, and the brief moment in which her enemies underestimate her because of her size almost always works in her favor. She doesn’t mind being short, and she hasn’t for many decades.
But now, as she sits beside Jaskier in the snow, she desperately wishes she was large enough to envelop him in her arms and surround him in the warmth he needs so much. She wants to hold him safe and secure and banish that horrifying expression of weary pain on his face forever. She could usually do so with magic, but now there’s little she can do. She's not used to feeling helpless. She finds that she doesn't like it very much.
Jaskier shifts his head to look at her and frowns in faint surprise.
“You’re upset.”
Yennefer barks a laugh. “Yeah.”
Jaskier’s frown deepens. “What’s wrong?” He sounds concerned, and the emotion is so heartwarmingly and heartbreakingly absurd that Yennefer doesn’t know what to say.
“Nothing you need to worry about,” she manages eventually.
Jaskier does not seem convinced.
“I don’t like it,” he says decidedly.
“What don’t you like?” asks Yennefer. It’s a good sign that he’s talking. She can keep him talking until help arrives. It’s going to be fine.
“That you’re upset. I used to like it, but now I don’t. It makes me feel all funny. In a bad way, not a good way. When it’s for real.”
Yennefer swallows. “When what’s for real?”
“The upset. Sometimes it’s a joke, but sometimes it’s not. I don’t like when it’s not.”
“Oh.” Once again, Yennefer finds herself with no idea what to say. Perhaps she should have more sympathy for Geralt, he had been dealing with sort of emotional whiplash for all those years.
Jaskier’s frown is considering now. He stares up at her like she is a puzzle that he’s trying to solve. After a few moments, seeming to have come to a conclusion, he flops his free arm out away from his side.
“C’mere,” he says. Yennefer, in her exhaustion, can’t work out what he means.
“Is your arm hurt?” she asks.
Jaskier glares at her. “No. You’re hurt. C’mere.”
“Why?”
“Hug.”
“Oh.”
Well, it isn’t like Yennefer has anything better to do. She knows she can’t keep Jaskier as warm as he deserves, but that doesn’t mean she shouldn’t try.
“All right,” she says. She gently nudges his arm back onto his torso, then lays down beside him in the snow and wraps her arms around him. She pulls his hand up against her chest to warm it and snuggles close. He really is cold — his hand is icy against her collarbone. She hopes Geralt gets here soon.
Jaskier nuzzles closer, burying his nose in her hair. He’s making some sort of sound, but it’s muffled against her head. It takes Yennefer a moment to realize that he’s humming a lullaby.
“‘S gonna be okay,” he mumbles. “Don’t worry.” His humming grows louder and he presses closer against her.
“Of course it is,” Yennefer manages. Jaskier hums in agreement.
She pulls him closer, closes her eyes, and focuses on keeping her shielding spell up. If his humming helps ground her and his warmth helps encourage her, no one needs to know.
And if her eyes are a little wet, it’s only because the cold is a little too stinging and Jaskier’s hair is tickling her face.
It seems like hours that they lie there. Jaskier goes quiet eventually, and every second of silence feels like an eternity. Yennefer holds Jaskier's free wrist in her hand so she can feel his pulse and reassure herself that he is alive. Once upon a time, she hated his incessant chattering. Now she would give anything to hear him sing again.
She considers attempting to move the tree again, now that Jaskier is more or less unaware of his surroundings, but she is so exhausted now that she doesn't trust herself not to drop it again and crush him. She casts a careful warming spell instead — not enough to melt the snow, but enough to keep them from freezing — and tries not to let the feeling of helplessness crush her. She curls up closer around Jaskier, rubs one of his cold hands between her own, and waits.
The snow keeps falling.
Out of the snow emerges a figure.
"Geralt?" Yennefer calls.
"Yen! Jaskier!"
"Over here!"
Geralt crouches down at her side, brows furrowed in concern. "What's wrong, Yen?"
"I'm fine,” she says, forcing herself to unwrap herself from where she’s curled around the bard. “It’s Jaskier.”
Geralt hisses a little when he sees Jaskier. Yennefer winces. She looks up at Geralt.
“I can’t lose him,” she whispers. It’s entirely possible that her fear is unfounded, but right now, she can’t bring herself to care.
“Neither can I,” says Geralt. Yennefer can hear the promise in his words.
Together, they pull Jaskier free and lift him out of the snow.
~~~
When Jaskier wakes, he is very, very warm. This strikes him as odd, since the last thing he remembers is being very, very cold. He also feels somewhat floaty, as though his mind is full of clouds and not on particularly friendly terms with his body. He hears a small, confused noise, then realizes that this noise came from him.
He does not know what is going on. This mystery might be more easily solved if he could figure out how to open his eyes, but that thought doesn’t sound particularly appealing at the moment.
“Jaskier?” someone says, voice echoing from the foggy space beyond his brain. He makes another noise of undetermined meaning. Something touches his arm.
“Jaskier?” the voice says again. It sounds familiar. Jaskier thinks that perhaps he should listen. “Wake up, Jaskier.”
“You’re safe,” says someone else. Oh, a second familiar voice! That’s nice.
Jaskier shifts a little. He feels sort of heavy, as though something is on top of him. He remembers something being on top of him before. He was not happy about being under something then, but he doesn’t mind so much now. He wonders what the thing is. Driven by this curiosity as much as by the voices, Jaskier gathers his strength and opens his eyes.
The first thing he sees is two other pairs of eyes looking back at him. One is golden and one is violet. They are both beautiful.
“Hello,” he croaks.
“Jaskier,” says Yennefer, relief plain in her voice. The thing touching his arm — her hand, he realizes — moves to cup his cheek. Geralt says nothing, but he takes Jaskier’s hand and squeezes it.
Jaskier blinks. He looks around at the familiar walls of Geralt’s room in Kaer Morhen, at the two beautiful people pressed close to him, and at the many, many blankets under which he is buried. He looks at Geralt and Yennefer, who seem both relieved and exhausted.
“Do I want to know what happened?” he asks.
“You nearly got yourself killed in a fucking avalanche is what happened!” Yennefer shouts, making Jaskier jump at her sudden shift in mood.
“Right. Yeah. Okay. I remember that bit.”
“You fucking should.”
“Well, I do.”
“Good.”
“I found the two of you eventually,” interrupts Geralt before they can spiral into a round of bickering. “Once I got you out from under the tree, Yennefer portaled us back to the keep.”
“Oh. Good. Thank you. When was this?”
“A few hours ago. It’s the middle of the night now.”
“Oh,” says Jaskier again. He knows his usual eloquence is suffering right now, but he figures that since he was only recently rescued from an avalanche, he can be excused.
He shifts a little, trying to see if movement still causes pain, and feels unfamiliar fabric rub against his skin. He looks down at the small part of himself that is not covered in blankets. His eyes widen.
“Why the fuck am I wearing Geralt’s clothes?”
“Mine wouldn’t have fit you,” says Yennefer, as though it’s obvious.
Jaskier tries to sit up. “Is my coat all right?”
He liked that coat — it’s one of the few things of his own he still has. If it was ruined by a fucking avalanche, Jaskier will have some choice words for Destiny.
Geralt gently but firmly pushes Jaskier back to the bed. “Stay.”
“It’s fine, you peacock,” says Yennefer. “It’s drying in the great hall. Coën mended it.”
“Oh,” says Jaskier. “That’s… unexpectedly kind of him. I’ll have to thank him soon.”
Geralt hums. “He’ll probably come up here at some point.”
Jaskier frowns at Geralt. “What, am I not allowed to get up?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Healers’ orders,” says Yennefer.
“You’re not healers.”
“We healed you, didn’t we?”
“I suppose.”
Geralt nods in agreement. “So no getting out of bed.”
“Not at all?”
“Nope.”
“Not even to use the privy?”
Yennefer huffs. “We’ll think of something.”
“Why not?”
Geralt glares down at him. “I left you alone after the dragon hunt. You got tortured. I left you alone yesterday. You got trapped in an avalanche. I’m not taking that risk again.”
“I got hurt when I was with you, too!”
“But not when you were with me and Yen.”
“That’s because I’m barely ever with you and Yen!”
“Hmm. We can fix that.”
“I don’t have a say in this, do I?”
“Nope.”
“Fine.”
It shouldn’t be possible to snuggle into blankets angrily, but Jaskier thinks he manages it. Geralt is unperturbed. He curls up behind Jaskier and puts an arm around his waist. Jaskier, feeling slightly squished, tries to shift to a more comfortable position. Geralt holds him tighter.
“Help,” says Jaskier, giving Yennefer his most pathetically pleading look. “I’m being imprisoned.”
“Serves you right for scaring us like that,” says Yennefer.
Her tone is flippant, but Jaskier can hear the vulnerability hidden behind her walls. She really had been scared. He suddenly found his imprisonment to be less irritating.
“Well,” he says, “If I must suffer the cruel fate of cuddle prison, I would appreciate some company.”
Yennefer raises an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t I be another jailor instead of a cellmate?”
“Also acceptable.”
“As your jailer, I shouldn’t care about whether or not you find things acceptable.”
“Yen,” grumbles Geralt, voice slightly muffled by Jaskier’s hair, “Stop bantering and cuddle our bard.”
Our bard. Jaskier suddenly thinks he might cry.
“Fine,” says Yennefer.
She lays down against Jaskier’s front, throws an arm across him to rest on Geralt’s shoulder, and pulls one of Jaskier’s hands under her head so she can tangle their fingers together. Geralt rumbles happily and presses closer, resting a hand on Yennefer’s waist. He squishes Jaskier a little more in the process, but Jaskier finds that he no longer minds. Either someone gave him a painkiller at some point, or Yennefer did some excellent magical healing, because he feels warm and safe and sleepy and nothing hurts at all. Geralt’s warm weight is as comforting as Yennefer’s embrace.
He hums happily and closes his eyes. Perhaps staying in bed for an undetermined length of time is a better idea than he’d thought.
“This is nice,” he says sleepily. Yennefer gently bats him on the arm.
“It’s more than you deserve after the stunt you pulled today.”
Jaskier huffs a laugh, not bothering to open his eyes. “It’s hardly my fault that the mountain collapsed.”
“I’m sure you were involved somehow.”
“Probably,” Geralt agrees.
Jaskier opens his eyes. He tries to twist around so Geralt can see the full effect of Jaskier’s best horrified expression, but is stopped by the fact that he is still half-underneath him.
“Geralt! Don’t turn against me like this!”
“Hmm. You scared me too.”
“Traitor,” Jaskier mutters, but the admission has softened him. He stops trying to squirm out of Geralt’s grasp and settles back into his comfortable position, accepting his enforced coziness as inescapable.
“Thank you for saving me,” he says quietly. “You do that a lot. I hope you aren’t getting tired of it.”
“You’d better be grateful that we happen to like you,” says Yennefer. “We can’t let anything to our damsel in distress.”
Geralt hums in agreement. “Don’t do it again, though.”
Jaskier laughs a little. “I’ll do my best.”
“Good,” says Geralt.
“Yes,” says Yennefer. “Now shut up so I can sleep. I’m exhausted.”
“Anything for my darling wife,” says Jaskier, grinning.
Yennefer kicks him. It doesn’t do much, since she is gentle and Jaskier is half-buried beneath Geralt, but he gets the idea.
“All right, fine, I’ll be quiet now.”
“Thank you.”
“Sleep well.”
“Jaskier.”
“Sorry, sorry!”
Geralt rumbles what might have been a growl if he didn’t sound so sleepy. “Stop it. You can bicker tomorrow.”
Jaskier opens his mouth to respond, and Geralt shifts to put nearly all of his weight on Jaskier. Jaskier lets out a strangled-sounding squawk that bears an unfortunate resemblance to a sick rooster. He can feel Yennefer shaking with laughter against him.
“I surrender!” he squeaks. Geralt moves back to his previous position so Jaskier can breathe.
“I didn’t know cuddle prison had such strict laws,” he says. “I’ll have to watch my tongue.”
“I’m not sure if you can manage that, but you’ll have to do your best,” says Yennefer.
“Sleep,” says Geralt, tucking his face against the back of Jaskier’s neck.
“Goodnight,” Jaskier whispers with a smile. He rests his free hand on Yennefer’s waist, and Geralt covers it with his own. Jaskier closes his eyes.
He is just about to drift off to sleep when, so softly he almost misses it, Yennefer speaks.
“I’m glad you’re safe, Jaskier.”
Jaskier holds her a little tighter. “So am I.”
Yennefer hums and tucks her head under Jaskier’s chin, resting her ear against his pulse point. Soon, her breathing slows into the steady rhythm of sleep. Jaskier can’t help but smile. He can’t quite bring himself to mind the near-death experience if he gets to experience this as a result.
There, sandwiched between two of the most beautiful and powerful people on the continent, Jaskier sleeps better than he has in years.
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For the WIP asks: 📄What’s a WIP you never finished that you would like to go back and revisit?
There are several! I'd like to go back and finish my AU where Jaskier has wings one day, and I've got a few other AUs from years back that it'd be nice to continue (I believe there's a soulmate AU somewhere in my drafts, as well as a nature spirit!Jaskier AU and a little thing about Jaskier's names). It's also been a few months since I worked on my AU where Jaskier accidentally ends up fake-dating Geralt and Yennefer at the same time.
On a brigher note, I actually have come back to revisit several WIPs lately! My main project right now is a post-s2 AU where Jaskier accidentally ends up in charge of an elven toddler and he asks Yennefer for help, which I started over a year ago and then abandoned for ages, only to come back to it a month or two ago with new energy! I also have an AU where Jaskier is cursed to be a sandpiper that I have new motivation for.
Rules: In a new post, show the last line you wrote and tag as many people as there are words.
Thanks @ghostinthelibrarywrites for tagging me! I don't have a proper draft that I'm writing at the moment, so here's a picture of the new plotting technique I'm trying for what might be my next project! :D
I'll tag @dreamofbecoming @samstree @wanderlust-t @elder-flower @penandinkprincess @finleycannotdraw @bambirex and anyone else who's interested!
Thank you! Here's a bit from my AU where Renfri lives:
Sure enough, the bard leaves the inn. He is talking enthusiastically to a laughing girl whose blue dress matches his doublet; it is annoyingly picturesque. Renfri doesn’t know what they’re talking about. She doesn’t care.
Send me a word and I'll tell you if it appears in my WIPs!
