Prompt idea: Perhaps a litte hurt/comfort with our favorite shapeshift!Jaskier? 🥔
Ok so this is more comfort than hurt. The hurt occurs more in this story. This ficlet is very much part of my shifter!Jask verse. You don’t need to have read it but it helps?
Geraskier, established relationship, 808 words. Also on AO3.
Warnings: Minor angst referenced? Past abuse/torture mentioned, but this fic is mostly the comfort after this.
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Geralt thanked the young maid with a nod as he took the tray of food, positioning himself so she couldn’t see round the door into the room. After Jaskier’s abduction at the hand of his mother, the shifter and the witcher had travelled to Oxenfurt. Jaskier had been severely underweight, sick, and in no state to travel as they normally would along the path. In the brief moments he took on his human form he’d mumbled something about having rooms at the University should he ever need them. Apparently he’d graduated with top marks, and the University had been bitterly disappointed when he’d turned down their offer of a teaching position in favour for life on the road. Oxenfurt had been closer than Kaer Morhen so Geralt had led them to the city. Jaskier spent a lot of the time as a dormouse, nestled in the front of Geralt’s armour, occasionally he would fly alongside Roach as a hummingbird, flitting around Geralt’s head until he got tired.
Oxenfurt was filled with music and summer festivities, no matter the time of day. Geralt had no problem imagining a younger Jaskier studying in the city, it matched his colourful bard perfectly. Geralt was less at home in the hustle and bustle of the city but he was where he needed to be, by Jaskier’s side.
“Does Mr Pankratz require anything else, perhaps some company?” The maid asked, a pretty blush painting her cheeks.
Geralt gritted his teeth, his grip on the door tightening. It hadn’t been the first time staff from the university had offered to spend the night with the famed alumni, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. Geralt wasn’t sure whether to be offended or not that no one believed that the bard was taken, least of all by a big scary witcher. He shook his head. “No, thanks.”
He didn’t give her a chance to respond before shutting the door. He turned back to to face Jaskier. The shifter was curled up on Geralt’s pillow, his long fluffy tail wrapped around his body, and he was purring in his sleep. He’d slept a lot since they’d arrived in Oxenfurt. In fact most of Jaskier days were spent sleeping, eating, and cuddling Geralt. Geralt had been worried about hurting Jaskier at first but they’d both needed the intimacy of having each other close. The encounter at Lettenhove had shaken them both more than they’d realised. Geralt put the tray down on the bed and scratched Jaskier behind the ears.
“Hey?”
One piercing blue eye opened and Jaskier flicked his tail.
“I have food?”
Jaskier closed his eyes and stretched out on the pillow, claws scratching at the air as he yawned wide enough to show all his teeth. He jumped into Geralt’s lap and nuzzled at his chest.
Geralt chuckled, running his hands through Jaskier’s fur. “Guess you’re happy in that form tonight.”
Jaskier nodded and meowed, head butting against Geralt’s palm. After weeks of not being able to shift between forms, stuck as a human, Jaskier seemed more than happy to remain in one of his many animal forms most of the time. Geralt didn’t mind, it reminded him of when they’d first met, before the bard had revealed his human form. He didn’t mind the quiet, and he knew Jaskier would return to him when he was ready, and his stints as a human were getting more frequent as the days passed. Geralt scooped Jaskier up into his arms and buried his face in the ginger fur. He smiled at the weight in his arms. When Jaskier had first been rescued there hadn’t been much of him left, but now after a couple of weeks of gluttony and self-love, Geralt could only describe the bundle of fur in his arms as fat.
It was a fucking relief after everything they’d been through. He had no doubt that Jaskier would lose some of the weight when they were back on the path, but the shifter seemed at peace for now, happily indulgencing in the safety of his Oxenfurt rooms, with his lover by his side.
Geralt kissed Jaskier’s forehead and then placed him back on the bed so he could take what he wanted from the food tray. Once the cat was done he butted against Geralt’s side and yowled until Geralt laid down on the bed. Jaskier nimbly jumped onto his chest, the heavy weight pressing down as Jaskier clawed at his shirt. It didn’t take long for Jaskier to settle back to sleep, purring contentedly as Geralt’s fingers stroked through the soft ginger fur. Even after a year of knowing Jaskier, Geralt still wasn’t used to the sound of a cat’s purr. It was a sound rarely heard by witchers, but it soon lulled Geralt to sleep, keeping away the nightmares of the path.
