(Yeah! part 5! not the “the end” but fucking “part 5″... cuz this fucker STILL isn’t done. hahahah! i tried. but there will be more, because there needs to be. i don’t know how soon, because i am pooped and my interests are running in like 3 different directions at the moment but I’M GONNA TRY MY BEST DARLINGS!!! enjoy!!! thanks for reading! as always!!!! <<<333)
Ao3 - Chapter 5
Summary: Modern Au, Punk!Jaskier, Creature!Jaskier. Geralt needs a new roommate to help him pay rent. Jaskier answers his ad. Through a handful of circumstances and series of events… there’s bed sharing. And some angst. …And so much more.
Word Count: 3501
Warnings: descriptions of gore and death and dead bodies
Jaskier is unconscious for four days. They’d taken him to the hospital. Yennefer had been unsure of the extent of his injuries and hadn’t wanted to cause any more harm by a healing spell going awry. So they’d taken him to the only hospital they could, one that not only treated humans but supernatural creatures and non-humans as well. An old friend of Yennefer’s, Triss, met them at the door. Jaskier had been groaning in Geralt’s arms, no longer able to hold himself up. Triss had moved her hand slowly over him, her eyes closed, brow creased with focus, assessing the damaging. He’d moaned when her hand moved over his ribs, curling into Geralt’s chest, trying to escape the pain. She’d opened her eyes, moved her hand to settle over his eyes, and put him to sleep.
He’d been in bed for four days, not moving, just sleeping and healing. Geralt had requested a room with a view for him, on the chance that he’d woken up early, or while one of them wasn’t there. They’d been taking turns watching over him, taking it in shifts. Renfri had made them. Geralt had had every intention of staying with him until he woke up. No matter how long it took. But Renfri had refused to let him stay longer than eight hours. She’d come into the room, with food for Geralt, from his favorite place, and had kicked him out. Geralt had fussed but Renfri had threatened to send Yennefer after him, so he’d gone home and tried to rest.
He’d cleaned their apartment. The message on the wall had taken some magic-ing but he’d gotten it all off. He’d cleaned up Jaskier’s room as well. But no amount of magic would help him replace his instruments, he’d tried. There was something about them that wouldn’t allow his magic to touch them. He supposed that maybe Jaskier had done something to them, had them charmed somehow. He made a mental note to ask him about it. He took the broken pieces out of Jaskier’s room and stashed them in his own room, in case Jaskier had a way to fix them. He didn’t want to put it past him.
He fixed Roach’s pen, only a few screws had been knocked loose. Then he drug it out into the living room, so she could have more space, and so that Jaskier could as well. Roach slept in his bed with him, the small amount he did sleep. And he kissed her head before he left, telling her he’d give her love to her dad. Dad number one, as Jaskier had taken to calling himself. She hopped after him to the door, sitting on her hind legs and watching him as he closed the door behind him.
Four agonizing days of silence. And then he woke up. Geralt had been dozing in the chair next to his bed when he’d heard his name. A whisper in his dreams. And then he’d startled awake to see two heavily medicated eyes looking at him. He leaned forward so quickly that the chair almost tipped him off onto the floor. His hand grabbing the bed in front of him for balance.
“Jaskier.” He smiled, he couldn’t help it, those blue eyes were open again and that pressure behind his ribs was pounding out a rhythm against them like a drum. Jaskier’s lips twitched into a small smile, his eye lids already drooping again. He lifted his hand, holding the back to Geralt, he moved his other hand to gently tap the IV line.
“This… is not the milkshake I requested.” He mumbles, voice groggy like his eyes. Geralt reaches out, his fingers settling on Jaskier’s arm when he drops it to the bed.
“Sorry. I’ll work on it.” he moves his thumb over Jaskier’s arm and watched his tired eyes track the motion as they blink slowly. They move back to Geralt’s face, still slow, and he hears him gasp, his mouth drops open the smallest amount.
“What? What’s wrong?” Geralt asks, worried he’d hurt him somehow, his hand moving away from Jaskier’s arm reluctantly.
“Those are… the prettiest eyes.” He murmurs, sounding breathless through his exhaustion. Geralt feels heat crawl over his skin as Jaskier’s blue eyes stare into his, apparently pretty, yellow ones. He does his best to meet Jaskier’s gaze but fails. He clears his throat and looks away. He pushes himself to standing and pretends not to see the way Jaskier’s fingers reach out for him briefly before he walks to the window.
“I made sure you had a nice view, in case you woke up alone.” He clears his throat again, hearing the way his voice shakes.
“It’s a great view.” He hears Jaskier sigh, glancing at him, his skin burns again when he finds Jaskier resolutely not looking out the window, his eyes on Geralt’s ass, his mouth crooked with a content smile. Geralt moves his eyes back to the window, looking at the birdhouse someone had hung in the garden. He hears Jaskier sigh behind him and turns. His eyes are closed again, his chest rising and falling slowly. Geralt takes a deep breath and sighs himself, never thinking he’d be relieved about Jaskier having fallen back into sleep.
Renfri comes by for lunch. Once again bringing food for them both. She hates hospital food and refuses to let anyone eat it if she can help it. She drops the bag of food down gently in the corner and gives Geralt a small wave before reaching in and unpacking the food she’s brought.
“How’s he doing today? Anything new?” She asks, holding a foil wrapped burrito in each hand, clearly weighing them before deciding which one she’s going to take. She looks over her shoulder at him when he doesn’t answer.
“Geralt?” She looks at him for a moment, and sets the food down.
“What happened?” her voice is serious, and he can see worry creeping into her eyes.
“Nothing, sorry. He woke up earlier on. And he-“ Geralt stopped himself, he shouldn’t tell her. He knew what she’d do. She never let it go. And then she’d tell Yen, and he’d never hear the end of it.
“He what?” She prodded, her attention seemingly moving back to the food, but he could see the set of her shoulders, she was listening carefully.
“He just… talked. For a bit. Not a lot. Just a few things.” Geralt said, doing his best to avoid the actual conversation that took place.
“And what did he say?” she asked, still not looking at him. He can feel his skin burning again, the heat moving up his neck and into his ears. He stays silent too long and she turns to him again. Her eyes meet his, and travel over his face, and he sees them ignite with amusement.
“Oh my god. What did he say?” the smile on her lips is full of mischief as she saunters toward him, the food she’d been sorting quickly forgotten.
“Nothing. It doesn’t matter.” Geralt mutters, standing before she can reach him and moving to the window. A poor attempt to run from her. Her hands fall on his shoulders heavily and turn him back to her easily.
“Look at you.” She laughs with a snort, hands moving to her hips as she smiles at him.
“What?” he frowns, crossing his arms over his chest, not liking the way she’s looking at him. Because he knows she can see it. And he doesn’t want her too.
“That.” She says, her hand reaching out and poking his cheek. He swats at her hand and she laughs again, he can feel himself wanting to smile. His chest feeling light. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if she knew. If he told her. If he said it out loud. He bit his lip and fought the urge, shoved it down again, and felt it growling behind his ribs.
“Come now it’s clear on your face, you look like a beet! What did he say to you that’s got you looking like a nervous maiden of old?” she’s laughing again, arms wrapping around herself as she tries to at least hold the laughter at bay.
“Nothing. Leave it.” he grumbles, looking to his feet.
“Oh please! I swear I won’t tell!” she clasps her hands in front her, begging him with those big puppy dog eyes of hers.
“Renfri.” Geralt admonishes, giving her a look. She wilts, hands falling at her sides, shoulders drooping, a pout on her lips.
“Ugh, fine.” She sighs, turning away and going back to the food. She throws herself into the chair and kicks the other chair with her foot, moving it out for Geralt to sit across from her. He sits slowly, both of them eating and glancing at Jaskier off and on. He’s taking a drink when she finally decides to speak again.
“Well whatever it was, it must have been good. To have you looking like that.” She smirks over her own drink at him, pulling the straw between her teeth and grinning around it like the asshole she is.
“Hmm.” Geralt rumbles, rolling his eyes and looking away from her. His eyes betray him again and land on Jaskier, his lips curve of their own volition and he smiles at him, though he still sleeps. Renfri snorts across from him and he kicks her out of the room. She laughs as she leaves, a knowing look in her eyes that Geralt finds absolutely, unequivocally, terrifying.
Yennefer comes by for dinner to take his place. She says nothing about Jaskier waking up and speaking to him, doesn’t try to pry anything from him. So either Renfri didn’t tell her, or she’s waiting for the moment to spring it on him. Either way his nerves are on edge.
“I found something.” She says, setting her fork down on her empty plate. Clearly having been waiting to bring it up. Geralt continues chewing, though slowly, and furrows his brow in question.
“About the men who took Jaskier.” She elaborates. Geralt swallows hard, nearly choking, and sets his own fork down on the table, what’s left of his dinner forgotten.
“Who were they?” he asks, moving his hands against his thighs, worry setting in and making his palms sweat.
“Well, I can’t vouch for all of them, I think quite a few of them were just random local hired muscle. But a few them, the ones you talked to, and the one’s that stayed near Jaskier. I think they were the main guys. The founders I guess you could say. They’ve been hunting for a while. Leaving a bloody path behind them as they go.” She pulls something out of her bag, a file. Geralt reaches for it but she pulls it out of his reach.
“I think they killed his parents Geralt.” She says, blunt, and quiet, glancing at Jaskier with a pained expression. Geralt feels his heart speed up, it pounds in his ears and against his ribs.
“I’m not supposed to have this. And I probably shouldn’t show it to you. But I know that Jaskier has told you things. About what happened to him. And you’ll be able to tell if this is them. The names are different in the file but I think he may have changed his name. To stay safe.” Geralt nearly flinches back from her, she follows him, her hand going to his knee quickly.
“I will never tell anyone any of this. The men are dead, I checked, there were no other known associates among them. I just think it’s best we know for sure.” she widens her eyes, waiting for Geralt to confirm that this is okay. He nods. Once. And she hands him the file. He goes to open it and her hand covers his, stopping him again.
“What’s in that file is… terrible. Even for us.” She gives him a pointed look, squeezes his hand, and walks to the window to give him space. Geralt takes a deep breath and opens the file.
Bile rises in his throat as his eyes scan the pictures. A man’s body, horribly mangled, lying on a carpeted floor in dark pools of blood, his limbs are at odd angles. He looks like a rag doll that’s been tossed aside. Jaskier’s father. Geralt’s heart aches as he looks at the pictures, the man’s light hair, matted to his head, his eyes empty. His arm is stretched out in front of him, the only limb on his body that looks normal, fingers splayed out on the carpet, like he’d been reaching for something he’d never live to touch.
Geralt turned the page. His hand going to his mouth as he shut his eyes and took a deep breath.
The woman in the pictures looked so like her son, dark hair, cherub cheeks hiding high cheekbones. Her body had been covered in cuts, a gaping hole in her chest telling Geralt that these men had literally cut her heart out. The pool of blood beneath and around her was smeared and uneven, telling him that they’d done it while she was still alive. Her face, thank the gods, looked peaceful at least. Her eyes shut, her mouth not twisted in a strangled scream like Geralt had seen many times. He was about to close the file, unable to look any longer, when he saw them.
Little hand prints.
On the woman’s shirt, and her face, and the floor near her head. His heart beat faster and faster as he moved the picture closer to his face, needing to know that he was seeing what he knew, deep in his gut, that he was. Two small red smears on the backs of the woman’s eyelids. She hadn’t had her eyes closed peacefully after all. They’d been closed for her, by someone with small, blood covered hands. A child’s hands.
Her child’s hands.
Geralt sighed deeply and closed the file, throwing it onto the table so that he didn’t rip it to shreds.
“Jaskier.” He sighed, his chest aching. Yennefer was back by his side in seconds, her hand on his shoulder.
“Did it match what he told you?” she asked, voice low. Geralt looked up at her, she looked back, face full of sorrow.
“No,” he moved his shaking hand to touch hers on his shoulder.
“It was worse.” He sighed, looking into his lap. Yennefer sat down across from him, her hand clasping his, her face full of sorrow.
“They’re dead. The men who did it.” she said again. Saying the only thing she knew would make him feel better. That the monsters who had hurt Jaskier and those he loved where dead.
“Do you think he knew?” Geralt asked, a question whispered between them, a secret he was hoping he’d never know the answer to.
“I knew.”
Geralt’s heart stops as he and Yennefer both look to the bed in the room. Jaskier’s eyes are open, clear now, and looking at them.
“You knew it was them?” Yennefer asked, not unkindly. Jaskier nodded slowly, biting his lip, grimacing when his teeth hit the still healing wound there.
“That’s the thing about being a musician, I’ve got a good ear. For music. And for voices.” He sighed, looking into his lap, his fingers pulling at a string on his blanket.
“Though,” he scoffs, humorlessly, pausing to pick at the string on his knee, nail digging into the fabric.
“It’s also hard to forgot a voice that haunts your dreams.” He looks back up at them, eyes colder than Geralt has ever seen them, the dark circles beneath them making them shine.
Yennefer gets up then, and walks slowly to Jaskier’s bedside. Her hand finding his and holding it tightly as she looks deeply into his eyes, his features soften into sheepishness as she gazes at him.
“They’re dead. You killed the last one. Those men, who took everything from you.” Her voice shakes with emotions and Geralt watches a tear fall down Jaskier’s cheek.
“They’re dead. And gone. And you’re still here. With us. You won, Jaskier. You beat them.” She offers him a shaky smile, and when he returns it, with one of his own, she presses forward and hugs him, briefly. Just a tight squeeze and then she’s retreating. Both of them wiping at their faces, Jaskier sniffles as he looks at Geralt. His eyes are sad, and tired, and sunken into dark skin that Geralt longs to touch, but he smiles at Geralt. And Geralt smiles back.
~*~
Jaskier walks up the stairs carefully, holding onto the railing tightly. Geralt walks next to him, hand on his back, ready to catch him if he stumbles.
“You don’t have to do that, I’m not an old woman.” Jaskier gripes, his free hand scratching at his head, his hair lay flat and wavy on his head, the magical color long faded out during his stay in the hospital.
“Oh I’m well aware. An old woman would have been up the stairs and home by now.” Geralt teased, smiling at Jaskier when he stopped on the steps to glare at him.
“Asshole.” He mumbled, starting his slow accent again.
“What was that?” Geralt asked, stepping away from him.
“Nothing.” Jaskier hissed.
“Right. Okay then, see you whenever you get home.” Geralt said loftily, marching up the stairs and away from Jaskier, he got about three steps ahead before Jaskier was calling out to him.
“No! Wait please come back! What I meant to say was, thank you! Oh hero of men and monsters, please don’t leave me behind!” his hand flailing dramatically as he made a scene of bowing before Geralt.
“Alright that’s quite enough.” Geralt snorted, walking back down the stairs to walk next to Jaskier.
They make it up the stairs eventually. Geralt pushes the door open and lets Jaskier walk past him. They turn their heads in unison when they hear the plop from down the hall, and then the scuffling of claws against wood as Roach makes her way quickly too them. Jaskier bends and scoops her up easily as soon as she reaches his feet, holding her close.
“Oh my darling hello! Daddy’s missed you.” he breaths into her neck, face pressed into her fur as her paws curl over his shoulder, her head leaning into him as he leans into her. Geralt closes the door and walks to them, his fingers pressing deep behind her ears as Jaskier sways gently with her in his arms. He moves his head to look at Geralt.
“Did you give her a bath?” he asked, almost a whisper, as if the mention of a bath might bring back some possibly horrible memory for her. Geralt nods and pets her head.
“I didn’t have much of a choice.” He murmurs, matching Jaskier’s hushed tone. Jaskier’s features darken.
“Yeah, I sort of… just shoved her under the bed. One of them tried to kick her so I had to get her out of the way.” He shrugged, careful not to jostle her. Geralt looked at him, and saw his eyes filling with tears, he moved without thinking, pulling them both close. He felt Roach wiggle between them and then settle. Jaskier moved one arm away from her, snaking it up around Geralt’s back, his slender fingers digging deeply into Geralt’s shoulder. Geralt barely felt it, he just held him closer, letting him cry against him for as long as he needed. Jaskier pressed his face into Geralt’s neck, his tears wet and warm against his skin. He moved his hand up Jaskier’s back, cupping the back of his head, his fingers soothing over soft hair.
Jaskier pulls back slowly, readjusting the rabbit in his arms and clearing his throat.
“Sorry, I just. Long few days.” He says with a breathy laugh. Geralt gives him a soft smile.
“You don’t have to apologize.” He says, and he can hear the emotion in his own voice. Jaskier looks at him for a long time, something unknown dancing behind his eyes.
“Thank you Geralt.” His voice was heavy. He let Roach down, wiping his hands on his thighs nervously as she hopped a few paces away from them.
“It’s fine.” He said, his hands shaking at his sides.
“No.” Jaskier shook his head and took a step forward.
“Thank you Geralt. For everything.” He closed the space between them, wrapping his arms around Geralt properly this time, pulling him close and burying his face in his neck once again. Jaskier’s hands fist in Geralt’s shirt as he pulls him closer, he’s pressed against Geralt nearly head to toe now. Geralt suppresses a shiver and tightens his hold as Jaskier shakes in his arms and clings to him. He holds him, silently, closing his eyes and breathing deeply, Jaskier’s scent filling him with warmth. Jaskier’s heart pounds behind his ribs where he’s pressed to Geralt’s chest.
i love sagittarius rising and i think they attract so much attention to them and are generally so beautiful, you can notice them even if you are on the other side of the room.
Adorable Korean Cheerleader Brightening the Stadium Vibe Cheerleader EP 172
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