Okay OKAY HEAR ME OUT– show Jaskier and game Geralt, and they just go along so well and they bicker and are playful and maybe let's add some good dad Geralt? I don't know, I'm just s o f t for Geralt not being emotionally repressed and playful and the beard oh my god
My favorite ship. I took a bit of liberty with the content, hope you like it <3
He was not supposed to be here.
How long has it been, anyway? A year, maybe two?
In Jaskier's eyes, a lifetime.
He could hardly begin to comprehend how it all went down. How he ended up here, in this world, in the first place. Similar with its fair share of differences.
And perhaps in the beginning he counted them, the differences, one, two, three. Back when he felt like an outcast, like he didn't belong. But that was then, and this is now.
Now he would rather count the number of scars on Geralt's body when they laid side by side on their bed after a night so intense it had him see stars indoors. Dazed by the comfort of it all, Jaskier counted and counted.
One, two, three, until he fell asleep.
And they fought. God, they have. Wherever he was, however old he was, Geralt was as stubborn as they came. They fought. And they made up. And they fought again. But not once, not ever, had he been hurt beyond repair.
And that must have been the biggest sign of them all.
Here, in this world, Geralt was his, a fact he liked to remind himself of every morning when he awakens to the heat of a body stretching lazily under him, to the softness of rough fingers grazing his cheek, to the tickling of a beard when tender lips come seeking a morning kiss.
This Geralt was his. He was no longer another Geralt, or a different Geralt, or a Geralt from another universe. Now, he was his Geralt. The one and only.
And universes be damned, Jaskier was happy where he was. He was happy to be defying time and space to be with the one he loved, the one who had smiled, a smile so bright and loving, when Jaskier spoke of a coastside, of leaving it all behind and moving on, together.
This Geralt did not blame him, did not hurt him, did not push him away. This Geralt smiled and said:
"I'll follow you, Jaskier, to the edge of the world if I must. So long you remain by my side."
The sky had never been bluer and the air never smelled sweeter. Sea salt and specks of sand and the wide, wide, horizon. It was not them against the world anymore. It was just them. Now, and forever.
Until one day, Geralt returned home with something wrapped around his arms, something small and fragile and that smelled of the sea, too.
"Found her in the forest when I went looking for firewood. Abandoned, most likely," he had told him, his sigh heartwrenching and desperate, "What shall we do?"
He had asked him with stars in his eyes, an expression he had never seen him wear before. The white hair and the white beard and the golden hues were all a witcher's. But his expression was that of a man who had already made a decision. A man on the verge of fatherhood.
Battling thoughts of uncertainty, Jaskier peered at the round face and found his answer staring right back at him.
"We can keep her until her parents come looking," he said.
"Until her parents come looking."
They shared a silent stare and a quiet smile and something warm and soft bubbled inside Jaskier's stomach and he knew.
He knew this was where he was always supposed to be.
