for jaskier and the beast a little bit of jask spoiling geralt for once and geralt not knowing how tf to deal with his perfect man ♡♡♡
This one was so much fun.
---
“I built us a nest.”
“Hmm?”
“Come with me to the sitting room, Geralt, and I’ll show you,” Jaskier urged, taking the Witcher’s hand in his. “That would be much simpler than describing my greatest masterpiece yet with mere words.”
The Beast allowed himself to be pulled from his meditative kneel and down the twisting corridors of Kaer Morhen; anything the little bird at his side deemed unworthy of mere words must be very impressive indeed. His consort seemed to have memorized the keep’s layout at last, no longer getting lost or wandering off in the wrong direction as regularly as he used to. He led them quickly from Geralt’s room to the sitting room.
“Ta da!”
Right in front of the fire, where Jaskier usually sat on the chaise lounge with Geralt’s head in his lap, was an enormous mound of blankets and pillows. There were furs laid out atop the already plush carpet and around the edges were the pillows, forming a sort of comfy barrier of sorts. The blankets were spread and interlocked, leaving not an inch of bare space. The Beast’s heart flooded with warmth and the animal instincts that usually felt so wild within him went calm and quiet at the sight of his nest.
The nest his darling consort had constructed for them both.
“You always seem to get fidgety after laying on the couch for too long,” the younger man explained, worrying his lip between his teeth as he always did when he was nervous. “And you always try to curl around me, anyway. I figured it would be easier to read or sing for you if you could...spread out how you want. Or arrange me more comfortably.”
“Jaskier...it’s...”
“I know it’s a lot and I can put it all away if you don’t like it,” the peasant rushed. “I dug through a lot of old tr-”
Geralt lifted his chatty consort into his arms and carried him into the tangle of blankets. He settled Jaskier’s back against the pillows as if he was made of porcelain, arranging him until he was sure the younger man was comfortable. Then he sprawled out, his head resting on his betrothed’s silk-clad thigh, his hands clasped together behind Jaskier’s back, his legs stretched out behind him and covered by a few of the blankets.
His chest began to rumble loudly when his consort’s hands found their way into his long, silver locks, already beginning to pull them into several complicated braids. “Shall I turn your hair into a crown, my king?”
“I am no king or prince,” Geralt huffed, still purring loudly beneath his words. “Do not be mistaken, little bird.”
“Then may I weave you a laurel, my Beast? My handsome Witcher? My White Wolf?”
Geralt settled into the moment, allowing the combined warmth of Jaskier and the fire to lull him back to half-meditating. Laurels were for heroes; if his future bride thought Geralt was a hero then, well, who was the Witcher to deny him? The Beast smiled and gave a quick nod. “Hmm.”
Sword prompt idea: Beauty and the Beast au, the beast is teaching jaskier how to fight, but it devolves into cuddle puddle when the beast gets anxious about hurting jaskier
Thank you for bringing me back to this lovely story! I missed the Beast...he’s my softest version of Geralt and I love him dearly.
---
Geralt pulled the practice dagger from its sheath and handed it carefully to his beloved consort, showing him all the proper ways to grip the hilt and balance its weight in his soft, pale palm. “Gods forbid you ever need to use this, but after that thief tried to...tried to...”
“Hush, my love. He didn’t take me away from you, did he?”
“No,” the Beast whispered, drawing Jaskier tightly against him, “But I still hate the thought of living without you.”
“None of that, now,” the peasant admonished gently, flattening his free hand against the Witcher’s pectoral to get his attention back. “How do I use this thing?”
“Right.”
Geralt taught him a few basic stances, thrusts, and even allowed the young man to disarm him to see how it felt. When the Witcher reacted on instinct to one particular attack, however, Jaskier ended up with a thin cut on the back of his hand from Geralt’s blade.
The Beast dropped his dagger to the cold stone floor and reached for his consort immediately. “My love! I’m so sorry! Quickly, I need to-”
Jaskier silenced his panicked husband with a soft kiss against his lips. “Pick me up gently, take me to the kitchen, and bandage me up, love. I know you won’t stop agonizing over this until I’m taken care of but I want you to know that it didn’t hurt and that you are forgiven.”
The Beast rested his forehead against Jaskier’s and breathed deeply, reveling in the soft, happy scent of contentment that rolled off the younger man in never-ending waves. He nodded, scooping his bride into his arms and carrying him from the room.
Bouncy!!! Does Jaskier have any family who would look for him in the Beast au? Or maybe someone from the village comes to see if the 'sacrifical consort' satisfied the Beast and Geralt is not pleased with them! Gosh, i love this verse!!
I mentioned a dad I think but tbh I don’t care about Jaskier’s parents. Now the second idea...
tw: angry Geralt but cute ending
---
Geralt heard knocking at the castle’s front door and glanced at Jaskier as if to ask: Were you expecting someone?
Jaskier understood and shook his head ‘no’.
“Who the hell would come to Kaer Morhen just after a thunderstorm?” he asked. Jaskier didn’t have an answer.
“Everyone seemed terrified of you; I’m just as surprised, my love.”
“I suppose we should go see who cares to intrude on my estate,” Geralt huffed.
“Don’t be too scary, dear heart,” the peasant boy urged. “Don’t want to make the rumors any worse.”
“If the rumors stick around then we can have relative privacy,” the Beast explained. “So I’ll only be a little scary.”
“Hmm. Thank you.”
Geralt kissed Jaskier quickly and jogged to the front door. He opened it to reveal a short, grey-haired man with rather deplorably groomed eyebrows. “Mr. Beast?”
“Geralt is fine,” the Witcher frowned.
“Geralt, then. I am a representative of the village council. They sent me to - uh -” the man paused and adjusted his cravat. Geralt could smell the anxiety rolling off the village messenger and leaned casually against the doorframe while he waited for the man to get his issues in order. “Well, the council wanted to know if you were pleased with...your bride?”
“My sacrifice, you mean?”
The man nodded and gulped. The anxiety stink grew worse and Geralt wrinkled his nose. “Jaskier is doing well, thank you. I hope to be married by Candlemas.”
“You mean that you haven’t-” the man stopped himself mid-sentence, his lack of eye contact and scarlet blush revealing the end of his question regardless of the silence.
“No,” Geralt growled lowly, leaning over the man as menacingly as possible, “I haven’t taken advantage of him yet. Nor will I ever lay a hand on him without his express consent. You blithering idiots should stay well enough away, so I’m not reminded that you tied a boy half-naked to a tree and waited for me to gobble him up like some kind of fucking monster.”
The man did not reply. He took off at a dead sprint. He put as much distance between himself and the castle before calming down enough to process the Beast’s words: I won’t lay a hand on him without his express consent.
Maybe the Beast wasn’t as wild and vicious as the others made him out to be...
---
“What did they want, love?” Jaskier asked, looking up from his embroidery. Geralt shook his head and settled himself down in the nest. He needed to hold his consort close and breathe that safe, chamomile-honey scent in again. He pulled the younger man into his lap and buried his face in Jaskier’s hair.
