Hiya! Could you maybe write a sad/angsty Jaskier imagine where the reader is dying from an illness or something, but when she dies she kinds of a transformation (like yen) where not only does she come back to life, but she’s even more beautiful. After years she eventually finds Jaskier and Geralt again and they reunite ect ect. Could you please make it really emotional? I’m in the mood to cry 😩

Hoo boy, I really ran with this one, because I actually had a vaguely similar idea before I got this ask and I ended up sorta frankensteining the two together into something hopefully enjoyable!  Sorry it took so long, but with a word count of 6k it’s not too shocking that it took me a few days!  Hope you’re still in the mood to cry!  I took a few liberties with the original prompt although I actually had a second idea that followed it more closely in some ways and less so in others.  Maybe I’ll write that one up someday as well but I don’t want to be known for killing readers lol so I’ll need to get some normal stuff out there in between.

Quick disclaimer, I sort of made canon squishy in this one… it’s supposed to be set after Jaskier breaks up with Geralt after the dragon hunt.  Theoretically, he heads straight back home and that instigates this whole plot.  The thing is that he and the reader would be 40 for that to really make sense.  So, I kind of left it vague…. depending on your age, feel free to imagine that less than 22 years have passed lol.  So, just a heads up on that.

WARNING: major character death, in fact it’s the reader and it is depicted graphically.  I would not recommend this story to someone struggling with suicidal thoughts because it does straight up describe you dying, all in second person.  If you think you would find that really disturbing and/or really enticing, please don’t read this!  The good news is, as is made clear in the original request, there’s a happy ending!

Never Really Over (a Jaskier x Reader oneshot)

Rating: T (violence but only implied smut)Word Count: 6kTaglist: never had one of these for an ask before but lol @100percentamess you asked to be tagged in everything so here’s your first!

You were cleaning out an old closet when you found it, tucked away under a floorboard.  When you saw the small decorated chest, you instantly remembered what was inside.  Throughout your childhood you had written him a number of love letters, confessing your undying commitment to him every few years like some kind of triennial tradition.  None of the letters ever made it to him, because you knew better than to dream of him ever returning the sentiment.  Even knowing that, you felt embarrassment burning in your chest when you remembered some of the ridiculous things you had written.  Julian, you’re the love of my life and I know that we’re meant to be together, shit like that.  

You had always wanted to get out of this town, see the world, experience life, but you never got your chance.  That made it sting all the more when you found the letter from him under your door so many years ago.  You didn’t even need to open the box to read it, you remembered it like you had it right in front of you: You’ve been my best friend my whole life and I’ve loved you like a sister.  I hope you won’t be hurt that I’m leaving, but I can’t stay in this place.  I need adventure, and I plan to find it while I tour the Continent with my songs.  If I ever return I’ll be sure to stop by… and if I become a famous bard, you can always say you knew me back when!  -Julian

When you heard a knock at the door you jumped, having lost yourself in the memory.  You slid the floorboard back quickly, and moved a rug over it to cover the cracks.  Running to the door, you swung it open and what you saw made you sure you’d gone mad.

It was Julian.  He’d barely aged, so much so that at first you thought he was some sort of corporeal memory of the day he left.  

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he remarked casually.  

~

“Julian-” you began.

“I go by Jaskier now,” he corrected.

“Unless you’re here to perform, I’m not going to call you by a stage name,” you frowned. 

“It’s not just a stage name: I’ve reinvented myself,” he boasted. 

“Jules, I’ve known you my whole life, and you’re the same you’ve always been,” you shot him down with an eye roll.  He smiled at you and it made your heart ache.

“You’re the same, too.  But you look different,” he observed.  You must have made a face of disappointment because he instantly corrected himself. “Not older, necessarily.  Well, not old.  You look different…” he paused, “but it suits you.”

“Don’t sound so hesitant,” you laughed.

“It’s just strange!” he defended. “But it’s good to see you again.  I missed you greatly.”

You sighed, looking away. 

“You don’t hate me for leaving, do you?” he asked nervously, taking your hand in his.  His touch shot through your entire body, and you wished he wouldn’t do things like that- things that were so unimportant and nonchalant to him but meant so much to you.

“I only hate you as much as I ever did,” you answered quietly, looking back at him.  He looked like he really needed to believe that you didn’t hate him, which was strange: normally he seemed to either not care what people thought of him, or maybe even thrive on negative attention.  He was always meant to be a star: a firm believer in the idea that there’s no such thing as bad publicity.

“Strangely, I don’t find that comforting,” he replied with a chuckle.

“You best not come to me for comfort, don’t you remember how mean I am?” you smiled back.

“Yes, but never to me!” 

“Well, you left,” you responded, and the mood was dampened.  Regretting to have lost the energy, you piped up quickly with a question. “How were your travels?”

It didn’t seem to help.

“Oh, lovely,” he said, but his energy didn’t match the words. “Saw all sorts of wild things.  You’d have loved it.  We were going to make it to the coast- we never did.  But you’d have loved it,” he reflected somberly.

You sighed, imagining how incredible it would be.  To think that he thought of you in such interesting places made you wonder if he would be willing to go with you, like you’d always wanted.

“Maybe we should go,” you suggested hesitantly.

“No, you’d have a terrible time,” he deflected.

“But you just said I’d have loved it,” you remembered.

“I meant being there, but travelling?  You don’t have the constitution for it,” he scoffed.

“What I don’t have the constitution for is staying here,” you countered, sadness palpable in your voice.

“Well, now that I’m back I’m wishing I’d never left,” he groaned.

“Don’t be ridiculous.  Please tell me you won’t be staying long,” you replied incredulously.

“Best not to, I suppose.  Maybe I’ll go to the coast on my own-” he began.

“Take me with you,” you pleaded, gripping his doublet, having lost all sense of dignity, “I need to leave this place.  I can’t die in this town, Julian.  I need to see the world!  I’ve never seen the ocean, the mountains-”

“No,” he repeated.

“Please,” you begged.

“I don’t do that anymore,” he grumbled, turning away to pick up his bag and starting to walk away. “It’s over, alright?”

“What?”

“I was travelling with someone but… I guess I drove him as crazy as I always drove you.  And he told me to leave him alone,” he sighed.

You felt guilty for pressing on it, not realizing it was still a sore spot.

“You didn’t drive me crazy,” you comforted, “not really.”

“I think I’m just too much.  I’m too intense for most people,” he explained.

“Most people are terrible,” you groaned. “Remember how we talked when we were young?  How everyone was so pompous and ridiculous and fake?”

“Yeah,” he smiled a little at the memory.

“Well, we were right.  I mean, I know we were whiny little brats,” you smirked, “but this town hasn’t changed much.  All gossip and nonsense.”

“It’s not this town, it’s the whole Continent,” he corrected.  “Trust me, I’ve seen a lot of it, and people are the same everywhere.”

You didn’t say anything at first.

“Except you,” he added, “of course.”

You smiled but it hurt when he said things like that.  All the “love you like a sister” crap that made being his friend so painful, and now more than ever you couldn’t escape from it.  Of course a part of you was glad to see him again, but now that he was in front of you, it was like not even a day had passed since he left: you still loved him so completely, so desperately, and so pointlessly.  

~

You heard him singing, ever so quietly, from around the corner.  You always thought he had a lovely voice but he’d never liked to play for you.  He said it gave him stage fright, something he failed to experience on actual stages.  You figured he was just holding out on you, for whatever reason.  You didn’t want to spy but also you couldn’t really help it, since you were visiting his family’s home and he had been silly enough to play a song with the door open.  He started and stopped and started over a few times, but once he got going for good, you were close enough to be able to hear the words…

She is the sun, bright and unforgivingBurning the grass and drying the rainI never looked at her, afraid to go blindI loved her light though she brought me such pain

She is the sun and when she walks awayThe world gets colder though the sky is in bloomAs the sun sets I ask if I’ve lost my chance foreverBut she could never stay and to the night I am doomed

“Ah, fuck, doomed doesn’t really rhyme with bloom, does it?” he interrupted himself.  You jumped a little, not realizing how entranced you were by the song, and you reached up to wipe a few stray tears from your cheeks.  You couldn’t be mad at him for singing a song about another woman when he didn’t even know you could hear, but you were angry regardless.  Moreso than angry, just sad.  Wasn’t love supposed to make you feel good?  Loving Julian was a thankless job, certainly.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked, and you jumped again, not even having noticed he’d turned the corner.

“Just mopping,” you blurted out.

He looked around for a moment with a raised eyebrow.

“…where’s your mop, then?” he (fairly) queried.

“Still in the kitchen,” you explained, “I’m planning where I’m going to mop.”

“I figured you could sort of just wing it with mopping.  Didn’t realize there was a pre-mopping phase.”

“Oh, absolutely,” you nodded, “it’s really important.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to keep you.  Get on with it,” he encouraged, starting to go back into his room.

“Wait,” you prompted.  He stopped, turning back to face you. “I liked the song.”

“I was hoping you hadn’t heard that,” he replied nervously.

“Why?”

“I didn’t want anyone to hear it until it was finished,” he explained.

“And when it’s finished, will you play it at the local pub or something?” you asked, remembering his earliest performances when you were fifteen or so.

“No, too personal for that: I was planning to play it for the subject,” he explained.  You winced.

“I’m sure she’ll love it,” you responded quietly

“Yeah, the Countess is fickle and all but she usually spreads her legs for a good song,” he smiled mischievously.

Thinking of him with someone else, especially like that, made you want to vomit… then you would actually need to mop.  

“Why did you come here?” you asked him, finally, after wanting to understand for so long.

“I… I needed some time at home,” he answered, but you didn’t buy it.

“Why now?  And why did you come to my door?” you growled.

“Are you offended by that?  Am I not allowed to visit a friend?” he responded in confusion.

“I didn’t even realize we were still friends!” you admitted.

“Why wouldn’t we be?” he asked like it made no sense at all, and you were thankful you weren’t holding anything because you likely would’ve thrown it.

“You left without a proper warning, I didn’t hear from you at all for… a long fucking time, and now you have the audacity to come back!” you barked.  “I already gave you everything, and you threw it away, searching for adventure!  What could you possibly want from me now?”

“It’s just my selfishness, I suppose, but I wanted to know there was someone out there who still cared for me,” he defended.

"You’re asking me if I care for you?  Is that really what’s on your mind?” you asked incredulously.  He didn’t respond, seeming confused.You felt tears sting the back of your eyes, rage burning through your chest.  You were tired of lying, tired of running around and being his pet all so you could be near him when he wanted nothing from you but a reminder he wasn’t totally alone in the world after he’d burned every bridge- including the one you had been standing on, waiting, for all these years.

“Julian Alfred Pankratz, I will love you until the day I die.  I promise you that.”  You tried to say it with the anger, hatred even, that you felt, but most of it was lost as your voice wavered from crying.  You turned away and walked outside, sobbing so hard you weren’t sure that you would be able to walk home properly.  You did, eventually, and immediately crawled into bed and cried yourself to sleep.

~

Maybe it wasn’t even noon yet, but it felt like time for a drink.  The pub was empty, at least at first; halfway through your fourth mug, an old acquaintance, Viktor, walked in and sat beside you.

“Bit early for that, isn’t it?” he frowned.  

“Then what are you doing here?” you asked.

“Looking for you,” he answered.

You chuckled, considering how disappointed he must be to find you like this: eyes still swollen from crying, half-drunk, more cynical and calloused than ever.

“So, listen, I’ve been thinking,” Viktor began, and you fought the urge to roll your eyes.  Despite being nearly an old maid at this point, Viktor had always sought you.  You’d known him your whole life and he was always a pest: rude, aggressive, dull.  Dumb enough to think you hadn’t realized his feelings for you.  He had proposed marriage twice, never having much of a better reason than “we’re both still single and it would make our families happy if we married.”  And now here he was, bothering you while you were trying to have a drink in peace, presumably so he could do it all over again.

“I’m not here to ask you to marry me,” he clarified, as if reading your mind.  You perked up a bit at that.

“I’m finally too old for you?” you scoffed.

“Don’t be like that,” he frowned, “you’re not old.  It makes perfect sense to me that you’re unmarried at this age, even if everyone calls you an old hag and a spinster.”

Viktor had a way of trying to be nice but it always ending in an insult.  Not that it was news to you that people talked about you that way.

“And why do you think I’m unmarried?” you pressed.

“Because you haven’t gotten to know anybody well enough,” he posited. “Look, I’ve known you my whole life, so I always figured I knew you well enough for marriage, but I see that you’re right now.  We don’t really know each other that way.”

You nodded. “Good, you’ve come to see reason then.”

“There must be some way that we could, though,” he added. “A date; courting.”

“Courting?  I’m not fourteen,” you grimaced.

“Whatever you’d want to call it.  I’d come by tomorrow and we’d go for a walk.  And we’d talk about whatever we wanted to, and we’d see how we get along when it’s just us,” he offered.

“Sound boring,” you mumbled.

“Don’t be so mean,” he requested.

“I was always mean and you still fell for me.”

“I was always nice and you still ignore me.  If you would just stop chasing something you’ll never get-” he began, but as you looked at him he stopped and started over.  “You have to stop hurting yourself over people who don’t care about you,” he explained. “If you gave me a chance, you’d appreciate how nice it feels to know someone cares for you.”

I wanted to know there was someone out there who still cared for me, you remembered Julian saying.  Apparently everyone else wanted to be cared for, but you were too busy caring to consider your own feelings.  You were so tired of fighting for Julian and rebuffing Viktor and shouldering the burden of spinsterhood in a conservative town like this one.

“Alright, come by tomorrow, then,” you acquiesced.  Viktor smiled.

“You won’t regret it- you’ll learn to appreciate me,” he predicted as he stood up to leave.

“The beginning of every successful relationship,” you replied sarcastically, but he seemed to take you literally.  What a moron.  At least he was nice enough- and actually had the integrity and honesty to tell you how he felt… not that you felt particularly integritous after your confession to Julian.  But you were optimistic; maybe this was a step in the right direction.  So why did the idea of letting go of him, even when you had known you needed to for years, hurt so deeply?

~

You stayed drunk through the afternoon but stopped drinking after a while, so you could go to bed sober.  You stayed up later than normal, avoiding sleep and the torturous dreams of love that it always brought.  It had started to rain- downpour, actually- and the thunder would’ve kept you up anyhow.

You heard a knock at your door and answered hesitantly, unsure who would be coming by so late.  When you opened it you saw Julian, soaked through with rain, looking like a lost puppy.  Of course you wanted to invite him in from the rain but you were still angry so you let him stand out there a bit longer.

“What are you doing here?” you asked.

He looked at you, and when you looked back into his eyes, you saw it.  You understood instantly what was really going on.

“Oh, oh no,” you reprimanded as you stepped back, wagging a finger at him. “No, Julian- don’t you dare.”

“I can’t help it,” he defended.

“No, no, don’t you dare love me now!” you ordered.

“Why can’t I?” he asked quietly, stepping towards you, through the doorway and out of the rain.  You stepped back again, running into a wall and bracing against it.

“It’s too late.  Jules, after all these years…” you trailed off, but then shook your head. “It’s too late,” you repeated.

“It can’t be too late,” he refused, “there has to be another chance.”

“You ran out of chances,” you explained, starting to cry, “it’s over.  Julian, it’s too late.  At some point, it has to be too late.”

“There has to be another chance for us,” he asserted.  You sobbed when you heard him say that word, ‘us.’

“Jules, no,” you wept, “I waited for so long.  I thought that if I loved you hard enough, that you would have to love me back.  And you left.  Julian, you left.  I had to give up.  I had to let it go.  I had to stop loving you.”

“But you didn’t,” he remembered, and you watched as a tear ran down his own face.

“Because you’re my fucking curse!” you screamed. “You’re my ghost!  You fucking haunt me!  Loving you has taken everything from me!”

“I never asked you to love me all those years!” he countered, his voice raising but not matching yours.

“But you’re asking me to now,” you scoffed.

“I’m not asking for anything.  I just need you to know the truth,” he explained.

“Bullshit,” you spat. “You came here because I was always your back-up plan.  You tired of whoring around, and you decided to come back because I was the stable option, the safe option.  You never wanted my love, you just wanted my attention.”

“For a long time, I didn’t understand the difference between love and attention,” he responded with a quiet, somber tone.  Your anger subsided partially.  “I didn’t understand the need for loyalty or reliability.  And then I lost everything.  The first thing I thought of when I considered coming here wasn’t my family, my house, my culture.  It was you.  I wanted to go home,” his voice began to waver tearfully, “and coming back to you was coming home.  I lost everything and all I had left was you.  And it’s not because you were my second choice.  It’s because I’m a fucking idiot who couldn’t see how much I needed you until-”

“Until it was too late,” you finished.

“Don’t say that,” he pleaded, stepping towards you again, this time touching you, grabbing your arms gently but with urgency.  His hands were warm, even when they were wet with cold rain. “Gods, don’t say that, please.”

You looked up at him and cried; you cried because you knew that there was no ending for you but heartbreak. 

“The day I met you, when I was just a few years old, was the day my life was ruined,” you whispered. “Cursed forever to live a life at your beck and call, because I loved you with everything I had.  I’ve never been able to stop, even when I hated you and even when I needed to let you go and move on so that I could live.  Julian, I waited my whole life for you…”

“You don’t have to wait anymore,” he whispered back, leaning down as his face moved closer to yours.  You whimpered weakly, your crying beginning to soothe.  His hand wiped your tears away, and you rested your face into his palm.  His touch was so warm, delicate, comforting.  

“I love you,” he confessed, examining your face.  You nodded, still crying partially from the initial hurt and partially from a solemn joy of everything you ever wanted suddenly right in front of you.  He was so close now that his face was just a few centimetres from yours, you could even feel his breath, see every drop of water running down from his hair into his face.  “Tell me it isn’t over,” he begged.

“It was never over,” you reassured, closing the distance between you and kissing him softly.  You were both still crying, just a little, perhaps mourning all the time lost that you could never get back.  And yet, all the anger of the past and the fear of the future washed away, and all that was left was being together in this moment.  The hand on your face moved to hold your head and neck, and the other pulled you closer at the waist.  Feeling his body pressed against yours was like cozying up to a warm fireplace, his presence a golden glow against the cold, dark world outside.  You wrapped your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss and starting to fall back into his arms.  He held you tightly, the wetness of his clothes soaking through yours quickly.  You didn’t even gasp when he picked you up, too lost in the kiss and trusting him too much to be afraid of falling.  He carried you down the hall, kicking the bedroom door open but setting you down onto the quilt gently.

~ 

You awoke to sunlight streaming in through the window, and the feeling of Julian’s fingers running through your hair.  You turned to face him, appreciating how lovely he looked washed in the sunrise.  You indulged yourself in looking at his muscular shoulders and chest where they weren’t covered by the bedsheets.

“Good morning,” he smiled.

“I can’t believe that really happened,” you whispered, mostly to yourself.

“I can,” he replied. “It makes perfect sense, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” you answered, feeling yourself blush a bit. 

“We should go somewhere,” he suggested suddenly.

“Where?” you asked.

“Wherever you’d like,” he shrugged.  You ran your fingers down his chest, admiring the thick layer of dark hair, imagining all the places you could go.

“Take me to the ocean, then,” you requested.

“The middle of the ocean?  Or is the coast alright?” he smirked.

You laughed.

“I’m serious!” he defended. “I’m not opposed to sailing.  It’s rather peaceful.”

“It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?  The water?” you imagined.

“Nothing quite like it,” he smiled serenely.

“Promise you’ll take me,” you demanded.

“I promise,” he whispered as he moved a stray lock of hair out of your face.

“Soon?” you pressed.

“There’s nothing keeping us here.  We could leave tomorrow if you’d like,” he offered. 

“Not planning on running off without me again, are you?  This wasn’t all some convoluted ploy to get me into bed?” you asked, mostly joking.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he laughed, sitting up and pulling you closer.  Soon he was hovering over you, and your legs wrapped around his waist before you could even think about it.

“Twice in a night didn’t satisfy you?” he smirked.

“I’m not sure I’ll ever be satisfied,” you replied.

“And to think you accused me of wanting to run off!  I’m not sure I’ll ever get out of this bed, if you have your way,” he teased, leaning down to kiss your neck.

“I waited so long for this,” you explained, “I suppose my patience has run thin.”

“Then I won’t keep you waiting any longer,” he growled, and you bit your lip as you smiled.

You startled when you heard a knock on the front door.

“Who’d be coming by at this hour?” Julian asked with confusion.

As if to answer, you heard Viktor’s voice coming from across the house: “Are you all right?” 

“Fuck,” you whispered, rolling out from under him and hopping out of the bed.  Despite the commotion and the events of the night previous, Julian still took a moment to look you up and down as your naked form was exposed.  “I forgot he was coming over today,” you hissed.

“Tell him to bugger off,” he scoffed.

“Alright, but I need to get dressed and you need to stay hidden,” you commanded.

You searched for your clothing strewn about the floor, slipping back on your wrinkled dress and attempting to make some sense of your hair.

Dressed enough to answer the door, you shooed a half-clothed Julian into a corner where he couldn’t be seen from the entryway.  You dashed down the hall and opened the door, and Viktor was waiting on the other side.

“Viktor!  Good morning!” you said cheerfully, holding the door only enough to fit your body into it, hoping he wouldn’t see much of the messy room behind you.

“Isn’t that what you were wearing last night?” he noticed instantly.  You sighed, not realizing your plan wouldn’t last even through one sentence.  What you especially didn’t realize was that, upon understanding what most likely had happened, Viktor would push past you, entering in a rage.

“Wait, stop!” you protested, but it was too late.  Viktor stormed towards the bedroom, from which Julian had emerged and then immediately started to run away. 

“You,” Viktor growled as he pointed to the topless bard.

“Hey, long time no see!” Julian cheered weakly.

“Bastard!” Viktor bellowed, chasing Julian down and pinning him against the wall. 

“Stop!” you demanded, rushing towards them.  Viktor released Julian only for a moment to grab you by the collar of your dress, and you yelped.

“I’ll deal with you next, whore!” he spat, the back of his hand slapping you across the face so hard that you spun onto the floor.

Julian launched at Viktor, the two falling next to you on the ground and wrestling in a flurry of punches.  You tried to kick them off of each other but the fight grew more brutal quickly.  Soon Viktor had forced Julian onto the ground and was punching him over and over, each hit bloodying his face more and more.

“Stop, please!” you begged, but he wasn’t listening.  You were sure that he was going to kill him, and you scrambled towards your bedside chest.  Opening it, your dagger was laid right on top, and you wasted no time grabbing it and running over to the two of them.  You grunted as you swung the blade down, stabbing Viktor in the back.  He cried out, falling onto his side on the floor.  Julian weakly sat up, sliding along the ground to get away from his attacker.  You watched Viktor struggle for a moment and then relax, a large pool of blood already forming under him.  You rushed to Julian’s side on the floor, examining his face.

“I’ll be fine,” he reassured before you could even ask.

“It looks pretty bad,” you winced.

“You saved me- I thought he was going to kill me,” he groaned.

“I couldn’t let you go that easy,” you smiled.  Julian closed his eyes, leaning his back against the wall as he sat in the corner of the room.  You looked at him with a smile: even bloodied and beaten he looked like everything you’d ever wanted.

You stood up and turned around, hoping to be able to care for Viktor’s wound, and everything happened so fast that you were on the floor before you realized exactly what had occurred.  You looked up just in time to see Viktor topple to the ground and die, a trail of blood behind him.  The wound in his back was empty, and you looked down to see your own dagger plunged into your gut.

“No!” Julian yelled, crawling towards you and examining the wound before grabbing your face. “No, no, no, no,” he rushed, tears running down his face as he scrambled around you to try to decide what to do.

“Julian,” you tried to soothe him, feeling a burning heat radiating from where you’d been stabbed.

“Oh Gods, I’ll go get someone- there must be a healer nearby-” he began desperately.

“Julian, look at me,” you requested, your voice weaker.  You felt so tired.  He obeyed, the fear in his expression clear even as you couldn’t see him that well through your tears.

“It’s over,” you whispered.

“No, no, it’s not,” he reassured as he shook his head, “it can’t be.  You’re going to be okay.  And we’re going to be together.”

"We were together, and it was beautiful,” you remembered, stopping to cough which sprayed blood from your mouth.

“It’s not over,” he repeated, but the way his voice wavered made it clear that he didn’t believe it entirely.  “I can’t lose you again.”

It was getting harder to fight to stay awake, and you didn’t want to fight anymore.  You felt like if you just let go, you could fall back into something warm and dark and peaceful.  And you were ready to let it wrap around you and take you home.  He grabbed your hand and held it in his, planting a kiss on your knuckles and holding your fingers against his forehead.  His touch kept you lucid a bit longer, but your fingers were already so cold…

“I kept my promise,” you whispered, a warm tear rolling down your cheek as you felt everything blur and soften, your vision narrowing down to a point even though you couldn’t tell if your eyes were closing.

“No, no, please don’t go…” Julian’s begging faded away into the quiet static of sleep.  

~

You startled awake, and instantly you couldn’t see or breathe.  Your body flailed against the oppressive darkness and you felt it moving against you, felt that there was something to struggle against.  Pushing back against the weight, your hands were suddenly cold and you remembered the feeling as air.  Sitting up, you were freed, coughing hoarsely as you breathed for the first time you could remember in a long time.  Opening your eyes, you saw you were on the beach, surrounded by and covered in sand.  You looked behind you and observed the hole you had just crawled out of.  Just above where your head must’ve been lay a pile of rocks, and remnants of dead flowers.  This was a burial ground.  Your burial ground.

You vaguely remembered dying, the sensation of holding Julian’s hand as you slipped away.  You could imagine it so clearly that it almost felt real, like you’d only let go of him a moment ago.  You reached down to your stomach where the knife had been, and found a bloodied hole in your clothes but no damage on your skin.  

You touched your hair and it was braided.  You looked through the sand and found flowers everywhere, even a bouquet.  You began to cry as you realized that Julian had kept his promise to take you to the ocean, and even gone so far as to prepare your body for a funeral and decorate your sandy coffin with flowers.

There has to be another chance, his words from the night before you died rang in your head.  You stood up, your legs still a little wobbly as you got used to walking again.  But quickly you were running, determined on your mission to find Julian and fix this for good.  You weren’t sure how you were alive, but you knew why: he and your teenage self were right.  You were meant to be together.  And now not even Death could stop you.

~

“Tell me the date,” you demanded as you swung open the door to the mage’s office.  He motioned to an astrological calendar on the wall, and you examined it.  

“It’s been exactly a year,” you realized aloud.

“Since when?” the mage asked curiously.

“Since I died,” you said casually.

The mage stood up, pulling out a chair and gesturing towards it.

“Please, have a seat,” he requested.

~

“I’m not sure I came back from the dead,” you groaned as you looked at yourself in the mirror.  You saw some features that you shared with your memory of how you’d looked before, but you saw yourself as a stranger.  Everything you’d hated about your face and body (and there was a lot) was gone.  No pockmarks from your childhood illness.  No wrinkles around your eyes and mouth.  Stronger jawline, bigger eyes, fuller lips.  Your hair was fuller as well, and even the colour was different.  It wasn’t like looking at an entirely different person necessarily, moreso just yourself with several minor changes that really added up, but it was quite the shock regardless.

“In my experience with resurrection, a physical change is normal,” the mage explained.

“You have experience with resurrection?” you asked incredulously as you turned to him.

“No,” he frowned.

You grimaced, looking back to yourself in the mirror, tugging at your skin as if the mask would peel off and you’d look like the old you again.

“So, you don’t know how or why you’ve changed?” the mage interrogated.

“Yes, of course,” you sighed.

“And you don’t know how or why you’re alive?” he asked.

“I don’t know how,” you answered, “but I know why.”

The mage waited for an explanation.

“Love,” you stated plainly.  “Do you think love can create miracles?”

He pondered for a moment before he replied. “Destiny gets her way,” he decided, “and even Death bends to her will.”

“I’ve always known he was my destiny,” you remembered.

“I have to say, I’ve had quite a peculiar day,” the mage admitted.  You glared at him.  “Not quite peculiar enough to compete with yours, of course, but peculiar nonetheless.  I don’t usually spend all day talking about destiny.”

“I thought that was normal fare for a mage.”

“Most people come here asking to either lift a curse or cast one.  Destiny is a rarer issue.  Just before you came in, I was discussing it with someone else- a witcher, if you’d believe it,” he recalled.

“I’d believe anything now,” you smirked.

“Say, do witchers normally have travelling companions?”

Your face dropped and you stood up from your seat.

“Tell me where they went,” you demanded.

“I try to offer my clients privacy, a sense of discretion-” he began, but he choked when you grabbed him by the collar.

“Tell me where they were headed, now,” you repeated through your teeth.

~

“You’ve aged more in the past year than you did in all our travels together,” Geralt observed.

“I lost everything,” was all Jaskier said.

Suddenly he looked to the horizon, not for any reason, just a feeling that he should.  Staring ahead he saw a silhouette begin to emerge from over the hill.  You looked back at him and you prepared to explain who you were, what had happened, why you changed (not that you understood all of that yourself).  Instead he started to run to you, and you couldn’t fight back your ecstatic smile as you began to run to him as well.  When you met in the middle he embraced you, spinning you around and pulling you into a kiss that made you feel properly alive again, more than before.

“It was never over,” he told you quietly as he pulled back from the kiss.  

“How did you know it was me?” you asked, running your fingers down his cheek. “You buried me.  I look completely different.  I don’t even recognize myself.”

“I could just… tell,” he shrugged.

“But how?” you demanded.

“Because it’s you,” he answered simply, using his hand to brush some hair out of your face. “It was always you.”

You kissed him again, with enough passion to make up for the all the time lost, and yet, brimming with hope and excitement for the future.

can i request soft but v angsty jaskier x reader? he is upset over something and the reader is comforting him and letting him know how loved and appreciated he is, but he just can’t accept the fact that she’s actually in love with him :3

AN//// Thanks for requesting! I got excited for this, finally being able to have a good situation for some of the lines I’ve been holding onto for a while

Masterlist

Also check out my other Jaskier stuff- I have a lot!

  The crowd had roared that night. The name of the minstrel had gained traction in recent times, certain towns being elated from the arrival of Jaskier. He had been floating on air, breathing in the praise he had been receiving as of late.

On top of that wonder, he had Y/n to share it with. The bard had kept to singing of The Witcher, refraining from tales of love since they had started traveling as a pair. Jaskier had fallen into a new tale of pinning and uncertainty, and never wanting to act on his feelings.

It has been four months since Geralt had asked destiny herself to take the bard off of his hands. Y/n had been by his side then, and she had stuck there till now.

And she’s there in this moment too. A small, harmless moment to her, but an eternity for Jaskier. The inn he had just played for was still ramped, and even as the two lay in their shared bed, they could hear the crowd. They had laid side by side, staring at the ceiling.

Most- most being Geralt, think that Jaskier is emotion driven. He is, keeping his heart on his sleeve, but Y/n knew how to decipher the feelings that rolled off of him. Some would assume that he would have cried a river from being thrown away from is best friend. Others would assume that that sadness would change him, never really lying about his feelings, and not being able to move on. Y/n knew better. Of course, she was non the wiser about what was brewing in his head and heart now.

“It really was an amazing night.” She sighed softly before turning to look at him. Her arm tucked itself under her head, a soft smile resting on her to match the soft gaze. Usually, Jaskier would turn to face her, but he continued to look at the ceiling. “But that isn’t to say you don’t always sound good- because you do. Always sound good, that is.” She started her compliment, quickly tripping over her own thoughts, as many bombards her as she thinks of him. Just like anytime she thinks of him. Too many emotions and thought raid her brain, not allowing her to look past the love in her eyes. But she could still tell, after finally finding her way out of her jumble, that he wasn’t acting normal.

Those people would be right in assuming that the day on that mountain had changed him. They would be right in assuming he’d be sad- but he once wished men to grovel at his feet before dying, Jaskier wasn’t a one-dimension crybaby. He was powerful in his own rights, only sometimes letting his emotions overtaking him.

Like in this moment. A moment that had been harmless, now dawning to be something more. She slowly shifts closer, resting her chin and arm on her chest. Most lovesick folks would focus on the closeness, and though she was lovesick, nothing now crossed her mind except for concern. Concern for her quiet bard.

“Dandelion?” A name she loved to use with him. In a place towards the end of the continent, they had called him that, and it had stuck with her. He was her flower in a field of grass. Outside of those isles, that was her name for him. She could feel his chest clench at her voice, which intern made hers follow suit. She pushes herself up to loom over him, invading his senses. “Did something happen?”

“No, it’s nothing to worry about, really.” Jaskier’s eyes dragged over her own, seeing the draw of her brow and raw nerves in her gaze. He threw a small smile to try and throw her off his trail, but she doesn’t move from her spot. “It was a good performance, wasn’t it?” She hummed but quickly added,

“But this isn’t.” A sigh rolled from deep in his chest, starting to push up to slip from her gaze, but an arm keeps her in her place. “You can talk to me.”

“Truly, I’m fine. I think I have a new song, so if you could…” she nods, leaving his space. Y/n finds her spot again, but stayed in a sitting position, eyes boring into him.

The pieces start falling in place. The whole night had been filled with songs of Geralt. The crowd screamed for more adventure- more so than most crowds. With the pairing of Jaskier being hesitant to sing of any love other than Y/n, he didn’t have much material. But, of course, she hadn’t known that part.

“This is about Geralt.” He froze mid action of getting up from the bed. He slowly falls back to sitting with his back turned. His shoulders drop and his eyes fall to the floor. “It’s okay to still be upset.”

“I know that, but it’s been months. It’s almost me keeping myself from moving on at this point.” She had a small frown find home on her, crawling to sit next to him.

“You don’t have to move on. We both know Geralt feels, and I’m sure he regrets what he did.”

“But he’s not here, is he? Geralt had everything I wanted and now… I don’t need the brute, so what’s wrong with me?” Y/n turned in towards him, a hand resting on his shoulder.

“Nothing. Nothing is wrong with you. You’re perfect in being you.”

“Which is exactly wrong in everyone’s eyes.” He pauses before looking to her, the ghost of a smile flashing at her. “Other than you, apparently.”

“But your following-?”

“None of them know me. Tell me the last time someone asked, ‘how are you feeling today, bard? Want to think about the future while laying in a meadow?’” Y/n’s hand drops to land on his. He looks to their hands, brows knitting harder together than previous knitting.

“Well…” She pauses. She wanted to get her point across, so she broke character, much to his surprise. ”Fuck Geralt. And Yennifer. Or any of those people who don’t appreciate you for you or your raw talent and hard work. You don’t need them. They’re nice- great even. I know I’m not much, but I’m here, and I’ll never leave your side.” Jaskier looked to her, wanting to ask what had been eating at him since that day.

“And why have you stayed?” It took her by surprise, needing to answer fast, but not wanting to give away the real reason. Of course, there aren’t ever great times to tell someone life altering information, she decided now might be the right time.

“Because I care about you.” Her hand squeezed around his, trying to give emphasis.

“Despite what you say, you care about Geralt as well.”

“But I don’t love Geralt. He’s a great friend- kind of. He’s great company and inspiration, but I’m not following him.” His brows shoot to the top of his head, but his gaze turns back to the floor. He could feel tears being held by pure will, trying to process- to believe. But he couldn’t. He’s fallen in and out of love, but this is different. It was almost as if this was the universe’s plan for him- a plan to be with her. But the thought of her actually feeling the same? Impossible. He would hike his feelings up with his dramatic nature, but what she was saying is real. He’s never known her to lie, either.

“But Geralt-?”

“Helped me. For money. But he hadn’t stayed with me, trying to talk through my bad luck with me. He hadn’t given me a shoulder to cry on, and he certainly doesn’t have a pure heart-.”

“Don’t.” He whispered softly. The action making her heart stick in her throat. She knew there was a gamble in telling him about her feelings.

“I’m- I’m sorry, I didn’t…. I love you, and I’m sorry if that affects us in some way-.” A choked laugh escaped him, turning back to her with glassy eyes.

“Of course I love you. But I know you can’t love me back. To all the stars I’ve prayed to, none would be able to gift me with your love, as much as I’d want it.” Y/n tried not to relish in the joy she felt in knowing he felt the same way. She didn’t want to relish, seeing him in front her with that broken look on his face.

“Julian Alfred Pankratz, you are the only bright flower in the middle of my world filled with weeds. You’re my dandelion, growing in even the thorniest of places in my life. Bright and golden, strong but having a soft side. You can blow in the wind eventually, but your strong will has kept your petals strong.” They sat in silence, both looking into each other. After a long while, his eyes fell closed, bringing her hand up to his lips.

He was trying to believe, but the place he had found himself in was too strong. He placed a soft kiss on her hand, stealing it from her and being able to keep it if she was truly lying.