#mare!jask fic

[smolalienbee]

wedding outfits from the last chapter of If There’s Any Sleep At Night!

[smolalienbee]

A Real Nightmare, Completely Aware

the first scene of the 1st chapter of If There’s Any Sleep At Night; full chapter available on AO3!

The first feeling Geralt gets upon his arrival in the village is that he’s not welcome here.

This, in itself, is not particularly surprising - it wouldn’t be the first nor, most likely, the last place where he’s not welcome. The thing is, though, that the contract had clearly stated someone needs to deal with this mare.

(Then again, perhaps the local folk have assumed that someone would be anyone but a witcher.)

So he’s not welcome here. That’s fine. He can deal with that, has dealt with that many times before. Except that it does make it stupidly difficult to get any information out of anyone when people cower at his sight, side-eye him and, most importantly, refuse to actually tell him anything.

Normally, this wouldn’t be such an issue in of itself - plenty of monsters he can track down with his senses alone, no need to talk to anyone about it. All he then needs to do is kill and show up with a clear proof of having done so to collect his reward.

A mare, though, is a little trickier than that. Strange creatures, they are - a human being by day, a demon by night, one that haunts people in their sleep. Worst of all, most mares aren’t born as such, with only few exceptions - typically they’re the result of a human being having been wronged somehow, and humans who are mares can go through their entire life with no idea of what they do in the night. She could be anyone in the village, this mare, and Geralt knows from experience the type of magic involved is faint enough in the daylight that even his medallion won’t pick up on it. He has dealt with a few of them before and each time the whole ordeal is unnecessarily complicated - this time, made even more difficult by the village folk.

Earlier that day, Geralt had managed to get himself a room at the only inn in the village and he’s been hoping that at least the innkeeper, Theodore, would be a little more talkative - seeing as the man clearly doesn’t have much issue with letting a witcher stay under his roof.

He was wrong.

“Nothing for you to find around here, witcher,” Theodore grumbles at him.

He’s wiping off the counter near where Geralt sits, only half-heartedly paying attention to the conversation - and that only serves to irritate Geralt further.

“From what I’ve heard, there is a mare. I’ve also heard that she’s killing people,” Geralt mutters. He tries not to let his frustration show, but he knows he’s most likely failed already.

“Maybe there is, maybe there isn’t,” Theodore shrugs, finally gracing Geralt with a look. “But I’m not the one who went around asking for a witcher to take care of it. Let me guess, it was a priest who put up the contract, wasn’t it? Vojtech, then, that old prick. Go talk to him and quit wasting your time here.”

(What is it with these people assuming Geralt doesn’t know how to do his job?)

“I did already,” Geralt grumbles. He takes a long sip of the watered down ale he’s been offered. “He wasn’t helpful.”

“Then he hasn’t changed at all.”

Geralt doesn’t bother hiding his eye roll. He’s here for a job - not to deal with whatever disputes the people of this village might have going on. If it was up to him, he wouldn’t be talking to any of them in the first place.

“I don’t know and don’t care for whatever -”

Geralt doesn’t have the time to even properly get started on his tirade because a strangely excited voice cuts him off mid-sentence.

“Oh, I know who you are…”

Slowly, Geralt turns around until his eyes land on the source of the noise. A man with a rather youthful face, a mop of brown hair and unusually bright blue eyes, though lined with deep dark circles underneath. A lute hangs off his shoulder and he seems unable to stand still, bouncing on the heels of his feet and hands fluttering in front of him like butterflies flapping their wings.

A man who, upon closer inspection, appears to be… delighted at the sight of Geralt. Weird.

“You’re the witcher… Geralt of Rivia,” he continues and the way he says it, it sounds dreamy. It’s a change of pace, that’s for certain, and Geralt isn’t yet sure whether it’s a welcome one.

Without asking for permission, the stranger slides into the seat next to Geralt’s, pulling the lute off his shoulder in one swift motion as he settles. “I’m Jaskier.”

Geralt hums in acknowledgement - he has half a mind to tell him to get lost, but he doesn’t. Jaskier, besides the priest, might be the only person in this village willing to talk to him, even while Theodore is giving them both a rather obvious side-eye.

“So,” Jaskier shifts in his chair, like there’s a bundle of energy inside of him that he can’t quite contain. “What is a witcher doing in these parts anyway? There isn’t much happening around here, as far as I am aware…”

“Not even the mare?”

“Ah.” Jaskier nods. “Yes. There is the mare.”

“Jaskier,” Theodore suddenly barks, a clear warning in the tone of his voice. He doesn’t say anything else, though. Geralt keeps quiet and watches the scene unfold - how Jaskier pouts at Theodore, not intimidated by him in the slightest.

“Oh, come off it, Theo!” he groans. “He’s just trying to help.”

“You should quit sticking your nose into everything, Jaskier. You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into,” Theodore only says and then stalks over to the other side of the bar, leaving Geralt and Jaskier alone.

“Rude,” Jaskier mutters to himself before he turns to Geralt. The moment his eyes land on the witcher, a bright smile spreads across his face. “Don’t mind him, he’s always like this. So - you’re here for the mare, then?”

“Mhm. Know anything about it?”

Jaskier ponders the question for a moment. He leans back in his chair and reaches for his lute - at which Geralt just raises an eyebrow. What, is he about to sing him a ballad about the mare haunting this village? That, though, doesn’t happen - instead Jaskier simply strums idly as he speaks.

“A little bit. What do you need to know, dear witcher?”

“Anything. Everything.”

“From what I know,” Jaskier leans in closer and speaks in a whisper, though his voice is still loud enough that Theodore huffs at him, making it clear that he can hear everything even from across the bar. This time, though, he doesn’t interrupt. “It’s been around here for months. Maybe even half a year, around that. At first she did what most mares do - people would wake up in the night, unable to move or breathe, this charming ghost of a woman staring them in the face. In the morning, they would be exhausted and terrified, but - alive. That… changed, a few weeks ago.”

“She started killing.”

“Yeah. Emil was the first victim - left behind a lovely wife and an equally love kid, Joana and Lea. Joana of Herring, that is, there are two of them around - but regardless. Emil was… well, he shall not be missed, let’s put it that way.”

Jaskier pauses, then, and stops strumming. He meets Geralt’s gaze.

“I could bring you to the two of them,” he continues. “You’re not going to learn anything on your own - the people around here don’t take well to strangers. And - in exchange for my magnificent help - all I’m asking for is some stories. Inspiration. You could tell me all about those magical, mythical things that you have seen! I think it could be a splendid cooperation, truly.”

(Inspiration. Right. As if there’s anything inspiring about what Geralt does.)

“No.” Geralt stands up. “You’ve helped enough, bard. I can handle the rest.”

“But Geralt!” Jaskier whines and hurries to follow him. “Your - witcher-y… charms aren’t going to work on them. Just let me go with you, I’ll be -”

Geralt never hears the end of that sentence. He walks out of the inn, letting the door close in Jaskier’s face.

He doesn’t need a bard at his side. Doesn’t need to be dragging another person into the danger of what he does.

(Nor does he need the disappointment of Jaskier seeing him as the monster that he truly is.)

read the full chapter on AO3!

[smolalienbee]

this is the irregular reminder that mare!jask fic is NOT about jask being a horse, he is just like a sleep paralysis demon, thank u for ur attention

[smolalienbee]

Run Me Like A River

the first scene of the 3rd chapter of If There’s Any Sleep At Night; full chapter available on AO3!

The scent of cinnamon hits him before he even opens the door.

It’s early morning. The first person he will see enter his room must be the mare - the mare that Geralt invited for breakfast last night. The mare whose gentle touch still lingers on his cheek, like a ghost.

He doesn’t expect it to be him.

“Jaskier,” he mutters.

“Geralt! Hello.”

Jaskier, oblivious to Geralt’s confusion, greets him with his usual bright cheerfulness. He doesn’t even wait for Geralt’s reaction - instead just pushes past him and saunters inside of the room. Geralt closes the door behind him on an instinct, then turns to follow the bard with his gaze.

“I brought breakfast - I figured after the run in with our mare, which I’m most certain you must have had last night, you could use some nourishment. After all, we did put on a brilliant performance yesterday, if I do say so myself.”

Geralt stares at him, saying nothing. Jaskier sets the food down on the table that stands near the side of Geralt’s bed - he only pauses his movements when he realizes that Geralt has now been quiet for quite a while.

“Geralt?” Jaskier looks up at him, brows furrowing. “Is everything alright? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost - wait, is she still here? Did you lock her up in here?”

Jaskier spins around, eyes roaming all over the room in search of any sight of the mare. Geralt swallows thickly - he needs to focus, to wrap his head around whatever this means, but Jaskier is making it increasingly difficult to think.

“Jaskier,” Geralt barks.

At the sound of his name and the gravity in Geralt’s voice, Jaskier sobers up. He stills and slowly turns towards Geralt.

“What’s wrong?” he asks quietly and takes a step closer to Geralt. Geralt remains frozen on the spot.

“She was here,” he replies carefully.

“So it did work!”

“I asked her to come for breakfast,” Geralt continues. “You’re the first person that’s shown up.”

Jaskier’s expression falls in an instant.

“What?” he mutters. His face goes pale and it looks like he’s about to faint. He stumbles back until he’s sitting on the edge of Geralt’s bed. “What the hell do you mean?”

Geralt closes his eyes. He wasn’t prepared for it to be Jaskier - he was prepared for it to be anyone but him. He doesn’t know how to even begin to explain it all, even though the more he thinks about it, the more it makes sense - the timing of Jaskier’s arrival in the village, the scent of pine and petrichor that lingers on him late in the night, the anger with which he spoke of Emil and even the gentleness in the mare’s touch, so reminiscent of Jaskier himself -

“Geralt!”

“Your wrist,” Geralt breathes out. He opens his eyes and sees the confusion in Jaskier’s face. “Show me your wrist. The right one.”

Jaskier opens his mouth, as though to protest.

“Please.”

The plea stuns Jaskier into obedience. He gives a small nod, then wordlessly holds out his right arm. Geralt takes a couple steps closer until he can take Jaskier’s hand into his. He lifts it to take a closer look - and there it is. Just as he had suspected, his grip on the mare’s wrist had been strong enough to leave a faint bruise on hers - and by extension his - paper white skin.

Jaskier follows his gaze to the bruise and inhales shakily. “When she - when the mare - when she came last night, you grabbed her right wrist,” he deduces softly. “Didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck,” Jaskier breathes out. “Fuck, you really think -”

“There is no other explanation.”

“No, there’s no fucking way -”

Geralt squeezes Jaskier’s hand and the bard lets out a soft ow but promptly shuts up before he can fully launch himself into an anxiety-ridden ramble. He doesn’t complain about the rough touch otherwise, but Geralt still lets go.

“Yesterday,” Geralt begins slowly. He moves to sit down next to Jaskier. “I saw Joana and Maja with a sorceress.”

Jaskier frowns - not yet understanding the change in topic. “Lena - yeah, um. She lives at the edge of the village. Has lived here for years, or so I heard - why?”

“We should see her,” Geralt tells him. “She might be able to help. Or at the very least, she should be able to confirm that you are a mare.”

Jaskier looks at him skeptically. Truly, Geralt can’t even blame him. Even he, with all the proof in place, all the facts lining up so well, still doesn’t quite believe it. Jaskier, the kind outspoken bard who has been so intent on helping him find the mare - for him to be that mare… it all feels like destiny is playing some cruel joke on them.

“Fine,” Jaskier huffs, suddenly standing up. “Fine, let’s go, then.”

He pauses, though, when his eyes land on the table and the food scattered across it.

“...breakfast first, though.”

read the full chapter on AO3!

[smolalienbee]

Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep

the beginning of the 5th (and last!) chapter of If There’s Any Sleep At Night; full chapter available on AO3!

It feels like a dream.

Looking at his own reflection, Geralt struggles to grasp it all. His hair, pulled into a thick braid, rests on one of his shoulders and there are flowers, blue, yellow, red, weaved into the plait. He sits on a stool in Joana’s bedroom and stares into the mirror.

Today is the day he weds.

Just two weeks, had someone told him he’d marry at all, he’d have laughed in their face. Him, a witcher, to vow a lifelong bond like this? As if anyone on the Continent would want this. As if anyone would want him.

And yet, here he is.

Granted, there’s more to it than want - this is to help Jaskier, to cure him of the mare curse that has plagued him for so long. The bard couldn’t have resisted, then, not unless he wanted it to drag on for any longer. But even Geralt, as oblivious as he might be to the matters of the heart, can’t deny the way Jaskier looks at him. The way he touches him. The mare’s kiss.

He closes his eyes and leans forward until his forehead rests against the pane of glass in front of him.

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts now.”

Joana walks into the room right then, amusement tugging at the corner of her lips.

“No,” Geralt grumbles without lifting his head. “It’s - not that.”

She hums.

This, also, Geralt can’t wrap his head around. He still vividly remembers the way Joana had looked at him the first time they met - the wariness in her eyes, her terse words. It’s a stark contrast to how she is now, still snarky as ever, but welcoming and warm all at once. Geralt understands now why Jaskier cares so much for her and Lea.

“Well, what is it, then?”

He cracks an eye open and out of the corner of it he can see that she stands nearby, arms crossed. It doesn’t look like she’ll let this go any time soon.

“When I took this contract.” Geralt sighs and slowly sits up straight. “I didn’t think I’d be getting married by the end of it.”

read the full chapter on AO3!

[smolalienbee]

thanks for the tag @seidenbros!!!

Rules: Write the last line in your latest WIP and tag as many people as there are words in the sentence. Make a new post!

A thumb brushes against Jaskier’s knuckles before a gold ring joins the ones that had already been adorning his fingers.

this is, of course, from mare!jask fic because i went with latest long WIP (so like, i did not count the tumblr ficlets i am desperately trying to finish). specifically the last chapter and you can prob guess what’s happening here

Tagging: @gracekisses @pass-the-salt @sevdrag @breadpants-bard @wren-of-the-woods @wanderlust-t @jesskier and uhhh whoever else wants to do it because i can’t think of enough people to tag

[smolalienbee]

now that i posted 1st chapter of mare fic time to repeatedly refresh ao3 waiting for that sweet sweet validation

[smolalienbee]

i might be posting 1st chapter of mare fic today........ SOON