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beth--b · 1 year

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stubborn as a mule

Jaskier had always been a stubborn, willful child. As he had grown older that had never really changed, though he had learnt to pick and choose his battles.

He would always fight to ensure Geralt was treated fairly, or at least paid fairly for his work. He'd be as stubborn as required for that particular endeavour.

He would not argue however, if Geralt told him not to feed Roach too many sugar cubes.

He'd just be careful to ensure Geralt was out of earshot when he did it next.

Geralt knew of course that Jaskier was stubborn as a mule.

Which is why when the bard began to come down with a cold he knew not to mention it. That did not mean he would ignore it, or let the idiot cause himself harm by arguing with Geralt about how he was 'fine' when he was clearly anything but.

They were heading up the path towards Kaer Morhen. They had made good time, and it was a warmer than average fall so they had not been in a huge rush. When he noticed Jaskier seemed a little slower than the previous day he decided to pay a little extra attention.

After Jaskier stopped his usual running commentary Geralt began to plan.

He let them travel on until it was close enough to lunch to reasonably call for them to stop.

read it on ao3 here

"Come on Jask, we'll stop here for lunch," Geralt led Roach to one side of the path and dug through the saddle bags for some jerky. He handed some to Jaskier without a word and proceeded to find a fallen log motioning for the bard to sit beside him.

Jaskier looked ready to argue but instead he just closed his eyes briefly before sitting beside Geralt on the log. They ate in silence, Jaskier slowly moving closer to Geralt's warmth. By the time they were done eating he looked ready to fall asleep, head resting on an armoured shoulder. Despite knowing how the afternoon would likely play out if he let them rest too much longer Geralt still took his time to get some water for himself and Jaskier, to check Roach's saddle and saddlebags were secure, and finally to feed Roach a slightly shrivelled apple, the last in their packs.

With no more reason to stall Geralt headed back on the path, Jaskier following behind.

The day wore on, and apart from being abnormally quiet and a little slower than usual, Jaskier didn't seem any worse off.

They made camp in a small shelter that had been used by many a Witcher before. It wasn't much but it was dry and the biting wind that had picked up as the evening wore on was far less bothersome than it otherwise would have been.

They ate some dried fruit and nuts, along with some more jerky for supper and as soon as he could reasonably do so Geralt climbed into their shared bedrolls laid out on the earthen floor.

With little else to do Jaskier followed, bard and Witcher curling up together under a pile of furs and blankets

"G'night love," Jaskier murmured, pressing a soft kiss to Geralt's cheek. Geralt pulled the bard a little closer and hoped he was better come morning. He had a feeling though that luck would not be on their side.

Geralt woke first, though this was certainly nothing unusual. He took a few moments to watch the sleeping bard, trying to figure out if Jaskier was doing better or worse. Though he couldn't say for certain, he was fairly sure the answer was worse.

Jaskier looked pale, far more than was usual for the bard. He was breathing through his mouth and his breaths sounded harsher than normal.

Geralt wanted nothing more than to bundle Jaskier up and put him on Roach for the rest of the days trek to the keep. He knew though that if he even suggested such a thing Jaskier would deny that he was feeling ill. As far as Jaskier was concerned he never got sick, So when he did he tried to act as though he were fine, until he could no longer keep up the act, or got better. Once Geralt tried to make him rest while he fought off a bout of the flu, suffice to say that Jaskier stubbornly refused to acknowledge that he was sick until he threw up and passed out. Geralt had no intention of letting that happen again.

Knowing he couldn't stall any longer if they wanted to make it to Kaer Morhen before nightfall, Geralt reluctantly woke the bard.

"Wake up Jask," he said softly, stroking his hand through brunette locks. Jaskier mumbled something unintelligible before groaning and turning to bury his head against Geralt's chest. Stifling a grin, Geralt sat up and pushed the blankets away, causing Jaskier to yelp and the cold air.

Jaskier glared up at him but Geralt just stood up and set about getting them some semblance of food from their dwindling supplies.

"When d' you think we'll get there?" Jaskier questioned as he finished up his food. He'd been to the keep several times before, but different weather could slow the journey. Geralt wanted to say they'd be there by lunch if they go moving now at a good pace, he also didn't want Jaskier to push himself too hard. Though the sooner he was warm in the Keep, the better.

"By dinner," he finally settled on.

Seemingly too tired to argue, Jaskier just nodded and helped gather their things up so they could get moving.

Within a few hours Jaskier was sniffling and had begun to cough. He tried to hide it in his cloak, though of course Geralt was aware. He was always aware of Jaskier.

The sky was beginning to darken, a storm rolling in. It would be a few hours before it reached them, but with Jaskier already ill he knew they needed to make it to the Keep well before the storm hit.

Despite knowing his stubborn bard would probably argue he needed to get Jaskier on Roach to help hurry things along.

Before GeraIt could voice his thoughts, Jaskier broke the silence that had fallen between them.

"Storm coming love, think we can beat it?" Jaskier asked, looking over his shoulder at the black clouds. His voice sounded rough, Geralt knew he could add 'sore throat' to the list of symptoms Jaskier was accumulating.

"If you ride Roach and we hurry we should be able to."

Jaskier seemed to contemplate this for a moment, a slight shiver wracking his frame as he slowed to a stop.

"Alright, if you’re sure," Jaskier agreed, tugging his cloak tighter around himself.

Geralt just nodded, taking Jaskier's hand he led him to Roach and let the brunette steady himself on Geralt as he mounted the mare.

With Jaskier on Roach, and of his own volition, Geralt was able to pick up the pace significantly. It was still a difficult path to travel but both Witcher and mare knew the way well. It was far more difficult with ice and snow to contend with after all.

Despite the increased speed the storm eventually caught up. Winds picked up, causing Jaskier to hunch over in the saddle, keeping his head down close to Roach's neck. He was freezing cold and was coughing harshly.

Geralt wanted to get in the saddle and help warm his friend, his partner, but he knew Jaskier would protest. He also knew it would be dangerous for Roach to carry them both in this weather. As the storm grew nearer the light had faded until it was hardly brighter than it would be as the sun began to set.

As the snow began to fall, they finally reached the gates.

Eskel was there, waiting just behind the closed gates, ready to help open them for the new arrivals.

While Geralt helped an unsteady Jaskier down from the saddle, Eskel waited to take Roach to the stable, leading the mare away as soon as the bard was on solid ground.

The weather was quickly getting worse and Geralt nodded to Eskel in thanks as he hastily led Jaskier to the doors of the Keep.

Once they were inside Vesemir greeted them happy to see they had made it safely through another year on the path, one glance at a still trembling Jaskier and he motioned them towards the roaring fireplace in the kitchen. It would be warmer there than in the hall and they could get Jaskier something warm to drink at the same time.

“Geralt, help him out of his damp gear and get him by the fire. I’ll make us all some tea,” Vesemir said, heading to the pantry to get tea leaves.

Wasting no time now they were inside he sat Jaskier before the fire and helped strip him of his outerwear and boots. He then removed his own damp gear and sat beside Jaskier, pulling the bard into his arms and helping to warm him.

Tea was ready before long and Jaskier gratefully accepted the steaming mug from Vesemir.

“Thank you,” Jaskier croaked out, looking almost surprised at how awful he sounded.

Geralt refrained from rolling his eyes. He loved the bard, truly, but one day his dogged refusal to accept that he was not above such things as illness would get the damn fool killed.

As Jaskier warmed up he began to drift off, head lolling against Geralt’s chest and the now empty mug in his hand dangling from lax fingers. Geralt retrieved the mug, passing it to Vesemir to deal with later, and stood, lifting Jaskier into his arms and with a quick thanks to his mentor he headed towards his room with Jaskier.

He had been correct in thinking that Eskel would take their bags up and get the fire going, the dark haired Witcher was just leaving the room as Geralt arrived.

“All set in there for you Wolf,” Eskel said, stepping aside so Geralt could enter the room.

“Thank you, I’ll find you later Eskel,” Geralt murmured, not wanting to disturb the sleeping bard in his arms. Turning away from his brother, Geralt entered their room.

The room was small and sparsely decorated, though not as much as it had been before he met Jaskier. A handful of books on the shelf, a few small trinkets from various places they had been together. Some spare lute strings left over from Jaskier’s last visit. There were furs on the bed and a small desk and wooden chair to one side of the room. A trunk for their clothes at the end of the bed. Their saddle bags and Jaskier’s lute case had been carefully placed in one corner to be sorted out later.

Laying the sleeping bard on the bed, Geralt stripped out of the rest of his clothes. Opting for some clothes from the trunk rather than those in the saddle bags, he changed into a pair of soft sleep pants, one of the few indulgences he allowed himself for winter in the Keep. He contemplated leaving Jaskier to sleep as he was, but the bard’s clothing was still slightly damp and wouldn’t help whatever illness he had already picked up. Finding another pair of sleep pants and a worn chemise he roused Jaskier just enough to get him changed. The bard let out a deep barking cough, rubbing at his chest before falling asleep one more.

Geralt was worried.

He knew he should have pushed Jaskier to rest more, to acknowledge that he was feeling poorly, but he hadn’t wanted to waste time with the arguments that would have followed. He just hoped that Jaskier didn’t end up too sick.

It wasn’t too late in the day, having Jaskier ride had saved them some time, but he chose to lay down beside his bard regardless. Jaskier could use the warmth, and Geralt would be able to keep an eye on him.

Without meaning to Geralt had fallen asleep.

He was woken by Jaskier when the bard had an awful sounding coughing fit that left him gagging at its intensity. He quickly helped Jaskier up and rubbed his back through the fit. When Jaskier was done he fell into Geralt’s arms and buried his head in the Witcher’s chest. Geralt could feel the heat that radiated from him. Wonderful, he had a fever now as well as a cough.

It was long minutes later when Jaskier finally pulled away and looked at Geralt, his face was pale, cheeks flushed with fever. Tired eyes looked glassy and his nose was red, probably from the bard rubbing at it when Geralt hadn’t been looking.

“Geralt, I don’t feel well,” Jaskier said softly, almost like he was expecting some kind of negative reaction from the Witcher. Probably because everytime Geralt suggested he wasn’t feeling well in the years they had known one another, Jaskier would argue, deny and disagree until he was blue in the face. Geralt just felt relieved though that maybe this time he would be able to take care of the man before him without all the usual drama.

So rather than argue, or tell Jaskier he had known for over a day that the bard was falling ill he simply pulled him into his arms, kissed his over warm forehead and lay back on the bed, pulling Jaskier with him.

“Alright then, we’ll speak with Ves and get something to help. Just let me know when you feel up to it alright?”

Jaskier nodded against Geralt’s chest and relaxed. For once allowing Geralt to care for him without argument.

#febuwhump #febwhumpday11 #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #sickfic #sick jaskier #jaskier whump #soft geralt #kaer morhen #vesemir #Eskel #Roac my #roach #my fics #fanfiction #the witcher

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fizzyxcustard · 5 months

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Stranded (Drabble)

Another fic that I should have worked on a LONG time ago, and has been sat in my inbox for nearly two years. Requested by @lathalea with the arranged marriage trope mashed up with being stranded due to weather, with our favourite Dwarf King.

I'm only tagging @littlesweetdressmaker (at her specific request)

I know this is probably longer than a drabble, but it's just intended to be a very short piece and that's why I'm not tagging anyone, unless they specifically request.

The wind whirled outside, shaking the roof of the small hut where you and Thorin had taken refuge. The snow was now so deep that you could barely open the door, so you were grateful that Thorin had already chopped some branches from a nearby tree, as the snow got heavier, for you to use as firewood.

The storm had hit suddenly, out of the blue, only a week before your wedding. Thorin was still confused as to why you had volunteered to go with him on a private meeting. The meeting was due to take place the following day with his cousin, Dain. Thorin hoped that Roac would come to their aid shortly, and be able to send a message on to Dain, confirming that Thorin would not be in attendance.

“Once the snow has cleared, I will be returning to Erebor with you, to not only attend your wedding, but make sure you get home safely,” Thorin ordered. “The meeting with Dain can be re-arranged.”

“I feel guilty for being the reason that your meeting will be cancelled,” you said softly. Your gaze scanned the floor, locking on your boots. In truth, you wanted to be away from Erebor as long as possible, as it meant you would remain unmarried. Your father had arranged for the marriage a few years ago. But now you had returned to Erebor from the Blue Mountains after Thorin had been victorious at the Battle of Five Armies, your father had renewed the arrangement.

“You seem pensive,” Thorin said, rubbing his hands together over the small open fire. The hut was fairly well stocked with blankets, but other items were scarce. His silver-blue gaze drifted over you, and he noticed you shiver.

Thorin grabbed a blanket and curled it around your shoulders.

You could smell his earthy scent and the penetration of his gaze made you swallow hard and your heart race. He was so breathtakingly beautiful and had always seemed so unaware of that fact.

The two of you looked at each other for a few seconds, and slowly, Thorin moved towards you.

You took a sharp intake of breath just as his lips pressed to yours. Heat rose, and in those moments, all you cared about was him. In fact, for the last year, all your world had been was him. But he had never known.

As your kiss ended, he curled his hand around your flushed cheek. Tears began to well in his eyes as he knew that you were betrothed to someone else and would never be his.

#Thorin Oakenshield #The Hobbit #Request #Thorin x You #Thorin x Reader #Thorin x fem!Reader #Thorin Oakenshield x You #Thorin Oakenshield x Reader #Thorin Oakenshield x Fem!Reader #Fic #Drabble #Imagine #Hobbit Imagine #Thorin Imagine #Richard Armitage

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