#witcher valentines

[silvertonguelover]

@witcher-bows-and-arrows

Day 5 SFW: Serenade

Local Witcher tries to woo (and apologize) local bard.

The Witcher wears colors to attract the bard.

Oh nooooo the bard is easily ensnared!!!

Geralt sweating bullets because he forgot whatever he practiced. 💀 He starts singing the potion ingredients. And it works!

[witcher-bows-and-arrows]

🎀🏹The Season of Love is upon us, help us celebrate! Whether it’s Platonic, Familial, or Romantic! It’s up to you! Here are the prompts for Witcher Bows and Arrows. For a Myster Date Prompt, you can DM the below twitter account or DM us here.🎀🏹

[samstree]

Lessons and Learnings

For @witcher-bows-and-arrows. Feb 6: Court

In which Jaskier teaches Geralt the art of courting. It’s all about paying attention to details, really, except he may be missing a few details himself.

also on ao3

“What do you mean I’m wrong? Certainly she was interested,” Jaskier takes another bite of the lemon cake and speaks with his mouth full, “or why did she wink at me, hmm? Nobody winks if they are not falling in love, even just a little. When it comes to the matter of the heart, my friend, I should be the expert between us.”

The sun is climbing high, and their little picnic will need to end soon due to the midday heat, but Geralt still lazes on the large blanket set up by himself earlier. His head is pillowed on one arm, and the other has raised to his forehead to block the sunlight.

What Geralt also set up in the morning before asking Jaskier to join him on this meadow is a basket of assorted pastries and wine. It sits beside him, now only half full, and Jaskier sits on the other side cross-legged, munching on the food without a care in the world.

“I’m not saying you’re wrong,” Geralt replies, eyes closed. “I’m merely pointing out a fact, Jaskier, that you may not understand the matter of the heart as well as you believe.”

“Wow.” Jaskier licks the honey off his thumb. “I won’t take offense because you’re you, but let it be noted that I always know. Always! If someone is pursuing me, it will be so obvious the words might as well be written across their forehead.”

“Is it though? I reckon someone could be doing it right in your face and you wouldn’t recognize it.”

“Ha! I doubt it. The perks of being a noble and a bard, I suppose. They teach you all there is to courting until nothing is a surprise anymore.” Jaskier sighs to the blue sky. “When you think about it, it’s a bit sad, really.”

“Hmm.” Geralt’s eyes snap open, his gaze falling on Jaskier curiously. “And how would one go about courting, in your opinion?”

Jaskier’s eyebrows shoot up. The picnic has done such wonders for Geralt’s mood that he’s being talkative. Not to mention he came up with the very idea himself. A relaxing day out in a gorgeous meadow, right before the local summer festival. What a nice treat!

Finally, Geralt is learning the art of self-care. Jaskier should be so proud.

“Well, I will tell you,” Jaskier answers, grinning, “since you’re oh-so eager to learn, as rare as it happens. First lesson,” he starts, “good food.”

“Food?”

“Never overlook what a good meal can do to a person. For you, Geralt, if you ever decide to court someone—whoever the lucky sod may be—always start with filling their stomach. Remember, no one has the mood for romance while being their hungriest and crankiest self.”

“Oh,” Geralt says. “I wouldn’t know.”

“Take notes then!”

Jaskier preens while finishing the cake. Some crumbs have fallen onto Geralt’s tunic, so he picks it out with sticky fingers and sucks away the last of the frosting.

Geralt pauses, pursing his lips before speaking.

“How’s the cake, Jask?”

“Fantastic!” Jaskier answers, licking his lips and toying with the idea of eating another. He probably shouldn’t; he’s too full already. “Rude of me to not have thanked you. So thank you, Geralt! But where did you buy these? It tastes just like the store I tried a few years ago.”

“It’s the same one. You mentioned—”

“Anyway, don’t sidetrack me,” Jaskier continues excitedly, rubbing his hands together. “Secondly, plan a nice date.”

Geralt lets out a sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Go on,” he then prompts.

Jaskier straightens his back in all seriousness. “It is customary to ensure that your beloved enjoys the courtship. Thus, you must pick the right activities. The first date is particularly important. You want to do something that allows you two to get to know each other, so it can’t be too strenuous. Horse-riding would be a no-go. You can barely hear each other and it ruins both of your hair.”

“Hmm,” Geralt muses. “So something quiet? An outdoor activity that also provides some privacy.”

“Indeed! And location matters too.”

“Like a place with a beautiful view. Good weather, lots of greenery and sunshine,” Geralt adds.

He’s looking directly into Jaskier’s eyes, unblinking.

Jaskier hums, impressed.

“Now you’re getting it! Better with somewhere to sit too, in case you get tired but don’t want to leave yet. You know, when there is a connection, all the time in the world isn’t enough.”

“Two decades could be too short.”

“Exactly!”

Jaskier pats Geralt on the chest, surprised that his witcher is learning so fast. Oh, he can make a romantic out of him yet.

“Jaskier.”

Geralt clears his throat, opens his mouth and closes it a few times. He seems to struggle to say something, but it could just be Geralt’s usual broody self acting up with all this talk about love and feelings.

“Never mind,” he simply says in the end. “Is there a third point to this whole…courting lesson?”

“The third one,” Jaskier says softly, “is the most important of them all.”

At that, Geralt sits on the blanket so he’s at eye level with Jaskier. He’s listening so carefully it’s unlike him. Jaskier would tease but something about the way Geralt carries himself tells him that he should speak carefully too.

“The third and last lesson in the art of courting.” Jaskier picks his words carefully. “Just…show that you care.”

Geralt blinks.

“That easy?”

Jaskier nods. “It’s that easy. Listen to them, pay attention, and remember the details. You deny it but there’s planty of caring in you, Geralt. It’s the showing that could give you trouble. The smallest things make a difference, but they are the biggest ones too. Showing your heart is what matters at the end of the day, when it’s in the right place. And I know yours often is—well, underneath all the grumbles and frowns.”

Geralt snorts. “As you so often point out.”

Except Geralt is neither grumbling nor frowning. He’s giving Jaskier that look again.

“You are giving me that look again.”

“What look?” Geralt asks gently.

Jaskier ducks his head, looking away from how ridiculously sweet this man can be. “Like you are smiling but you don’t want to, so you end up only smiling with your eyes.”

He wonders if Geralt will look at his beloved like this when he courts them. The idea makes Jaskier a bit disappointed, somehow, and he realizes that no matter how eager he was to teach Geralt all these tricks, he may not necessarily want to see them put into use.

The day is truly too hot. He’s not thinking straight anymore.

“Come on,” Geralt says suddenly, after a moment of silence. “We should go to the town hall. The celebration is starting.”

He stands from the ground and pulls Jaskier with him. The air will soon be scorching and the bright sun makes Jaskier squint, but the smile on Geralt’s face is blooming into a real one gradually.

“Yes,” Jaskier says, shaking off those stray thoughts. “I’ve been wanting to see this one for ages.”

“You said.”

“Well, then. Chop chop. Let’s not miss the beginning. Did you know the local children will sing an ode to summer? They’d rehearse a cute little dance too. Even without seeing it, I’m sure it’ll become my favorite thing in the world by the end of the day!”

“I know. It’s why we’re here, Jaskier.”

Geralt looks all but fond when he begins wrapping the picnic blanket and putting away the left-over pastries, and he cocks his head when Jaskier jumps on his tiptoes impatiently.

“Go on, then,” he says. “I’ll be right behind you.”

Jaskier squeezes Geralt on the arm in thanks. There’s a wildflower lodged in his clothes but he doesn’t seem to notice.

“Don’t forget the lessons.” Jaskier winks. “You could use it one day.”

The golden sun surrounds Geralt, making it hard to discern his expression, but the smile lingers in his eyes.

“You know what, Jaskier. I just might.”

[d-andilion]

magic word

@witcher-bows-and-arrows day 5: promise

(geraskier, friends to lovers, getting together, fluff and angst, 1.4k)

read on ao3

For a Witcher, there is no such thing as a guarantee. Geralt can’t say with any kind of certainty where each day will take him, not even from one hour to the next. A peaceful day of travel can turn on a silver mark to disaster. The path he walks is dangerous, unpredictable. It has only grown more so since Jaskier marched into his life.

The bard is a magnet for chaos. Half the Continent wants to murder him, and the other half just haven’t met him yet. Despite the admitted improvement to Geralt’s reputation, he finds himself chased out of towns about as often as he ever was; the only difference now is that he’s running from angry fathers and cuckolded spouses rather than bigots with pitchforks. He never knows when he’ll have to abandon his warm bed at an inn to save the bard from an impromptu execution, or if a hunt will go awry by Jaskier’s presence even though Geralt told him to stay at camp.

With an existence so marred by uncertainty as his, Geralt makes an effort to avoid making promises. The bard’s added complications should only make him more resolute in that regard. Yet, since he met Jaskier, Geralt finds himself making more promises than he has in his life.

The first one hardly counts as a promise. Jaskier has been following him around for a few weeks, and Geralt hasn’t abandoned him in the middle of the night for a reason he can’t pin down just yet.

It’s been a long few days of travel, Geralt pushing them hard to reach a basilisk contract and the hefty reward that comes with it. His potion stores are running low enough to make Geralt uneasy. The purse for the basilisk will go a long way towards replenishing them, assuming the apothecary in town will allow a Witcher to cross his threshold.

Jaskier has been complaining pretty much since they broke camp “two hours too early” this morning. It’s not anything new; the bard always complains, but the day grows hot as the sun rises and Jaskier begins to lag further and further behind.

“Surely it’s time for a break, Geralt,” he moans. Geralt spares a glance over his shoulder, but he doesn’t stop.

“Not yet,” he replies.

The bard lets out a strangled groan and Geralt hears what he assumes is a stone being kicked grumpily across the path. He rolls his eyes, but he pulls Roach to a stop long enough for Jaskier to catch up with them. When they start again, their pace is a bit slower.

“If we press on, we should reach town by tonight,” Geralt tells him.

“Thank fuck,” says Jaskier, relieved. “I’m going to need a bath to make up for you forcing me to walk through our breaks in this heat. Say we’ll order a bath, Geralt, promise me.”

Geralt will do no such thing with his coin purse in the state that it is. He knows Jaskier’s is no fuller, not with the reception he had at the last tavern. Geralt should tell Jaskier that the only bath he’ll be getting is in his dreams tonight, at least until the contract is fulfilled. Instead, he just hums.

“I’m translating that to your grunt of agreement,” Jaskier informs him, strutting out ahead with a new spring in his step. Geralt doesn’t contradict him.

It isn’t a promise, exactly. A promise by omission perhaps, if such a thing exists, but it’s enough to open the floodgates. Suddenly, Geralt is making promises left, right, and center.

“Promise you’ll watch my set tonight, Geralt.”

“Promise we’ll go to the market tomorrow, Geralt.”

“Promise we can take an extra-long lunch break today, Geralt.”

Geralt doesn’t actually say the words ‘I promise’ to any of them. Most of the time it’s a grunt or a hum, or a nod if he’s feeling generous. If Jaskier is especially lucky, Geralt might say “fine”. Geralt would feel better about it if they were empty promises, but they aren’t really, are they?

That’s not to say Geralt just does whatever Jaskier tells him to. There are plenty of requests to which Geralt gives an unapologetic ‘no’. It’s that magic word that always seems to sway him. Jaskier need only tack it onto his sentence and Geralt can never refuse him.

There’s just something about Jaskier’s face when Geralt makes good on his not-promises that makes the Witcher feel warm. He likes being able to say, even just to himself, that he has never broken a promise to Jaskier. That someone can count on him, if only for the little things.

If Jaskier notices his little superpower, he never lets on. He doesn’t ask for anything more consequential than amenities or accommodations. Never anything Geralt can’t give him with minimal inconvenience.

There is one incident after a particularly gruesome hunt when Geralt thinks Jaskier will ask the impossible of him. Jaskier found him in the aftermath of his kill, bleeding freely from his side. It was a long night, or at least Geralt assumes it was. He wasn’t conscious for most of it.

Geralt wakes early the next morning before the sun has fully risen. Jaskier sits vigil beside him, clutching his knees to his chest and resting his chin on top of them. He looks down at Geralt with tear tracks on his cheeks.

“Don’t you ever do that to me again,” he whispers weakly.

Geralt waits for the magic word, but it never comes. Even in the back of his sleep-deprived mind, Jaskier knows better than to ask such a thing of Geralt. He’s grateful for it. Geralt doesn’t know if he would have been able to refuse Jaskier if he’d asked for that oath, but he knows he could never have kept it.

Three days before Caingorn, Jaskier snags one of his shirts on a tree branch. It’s ruined beyond repair, the silky sleeve almost completely detached. He mourns its loss right up until they leave Roach at the base of the mountain.

“You owe me for this, Witcher,” he says.

Geralt rolls his eyes. “That so, bard?”

“Yes, it is,” Jaskier grumbles. Then his face lights up with a mischievous grin, “You can replace my shirt for me! It’s your fault anyway, you should have warned me about that treacherous branch. Say you’ll do it, Geralt, promise me.”

“Whatever you say,” Geralt replies without looking up.

Geralt forgets about that promise until the day after his dissent. He digs around his pack for one of his older shirts, the one he prefers to sleep in. The fabric is worn and patched in one too many places, but it’s more comfortable than the others. He never finds it. Another promise kept, he supposes.

In the months that follow, Geralt makes a different kind of promise. It’s bigger than the ones that came before it, weightier.

“I won’t let anything happen to you.”

A frightened princess sits beside him, and he makes that oath to her without hesitation. Geralt isn’t sure he’ll be able to keep it forever. That thought scares him more now than it ever did.

The dust settles at Kaer Morhen and Geralt finds Jaskier upstairs. The room he’s chosen is tiny with space for little more than the cot serving as his bed. Geralt thinks absently that he’ll have to show Jaskier where the better rooms are. The two of them could barely stand abreast in here.

Jaskier is different. It’s more than his appearance, and more obvious now that they finally have a moment alone. The carefree air of him is gone, replaced with something firmer, wiser. He’s changed more in a handful of months than Geralt has in decades, but he’s still Jaskier. His eyes are still blue, his smile is still kind. Geralt still doesn’t know what to say to him.

So doesn’t talk.

Geralt crosses the tiny space between them and kisses the bard, his bard, before he can lose his nerve. He half expects Jaskier to pull away, but he doesn’t. He frames Geralt’s face with both hands and kisses him back like he’s desperate for it, like Geralt’s touch will save him from oblivion.

When they come up for air, Geralt presses their foreheads together and breathes Jaskier in. His scent hasn’t changed either, still unmistakably him. Still unmistakably home. Jaskier runs his fingers through Geralt’s hair, dragging them against his scalp, and leans in just the slightest bit closer. Their noses brush.

“Don’t leave me again, Geralt,” he whispers, and his voice seems to shake.

“I won’t,” Geralt murmurs back.

“Promise?”

And there it is, the magic word that melts Geralt every single time. He knows that this is it, the promise he won’t be able to keep. Someday, whether it be at the end of a blade or the fury of a beast, Geralt will leave Jaskier behind. Geralt closes his eyes.

“I promise.”

~~

bows and arrows masterlist

[crogersart]

Day 3: Promise (with a touch of angst)

For @witcher-bows-and-arrows

Geralt has a ways to go still before he gains back Jaskier’s trust. But he promises to himself and to the bard, he will do better.

Jaskier is still unsure if he can believe what Geralt says.

[witchertits]

Happy Valentine's Day! Thank you to @witcher-bows-and-arrows for another amazing event!

[thisstupidrock]

A bard and his cat dance!

For @witcher-bows-and-arrows event, prompt “Bliss”

[justhereforeskel]

Gift prompt for @witcher-bows-and-arrows Blacksmith!Eskel made a nice little trimming dagger for Herbalist!Geralt 💜 Playing in @witcher-and-his-bard's AU with this one! (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)