A/N: title is from 'in my veins' by andrew belle and though it's meant to be an angsty song, i turned it into fluff bc i just needed some fluff in my life and i'm so soft for these idiots being soft for each other...

you're in my veins (and i cannot get you out)

Witchers are weapons.

It's in their unnatural nature, their mutations, their enhanced ability to fight the monsters that most people can't even begin to fathom in their wildest nightmares.

Witchers are powerful, dangerous, fearsome, not to be messed with under any circumstance.

Unless you're Jaskier.

Because Jaskier is not like most people.

Jaskier takes one look at Geralt and decides that the brooding figure in the corner will make for the finest company.

Decides that piercing eyes and unnatural hair are something to be respected, admired, used as inspiration for ballads.

Decides that the tales about a butcher are wrong and that he's personally responsible for changing people's views.

Decides that travelling with a witcher is more exciting than the bread in his pants - although that particular decision is understandable.

Geralt is used to a sharp life, a life filled with sharp claws and sharp insults and sharp weapons that act as an extension of his sharp self.

It'd taken him years to become accustomed to the sharp tricks of mages, the sharp transactions of fearful townsfolk, the sharp smell of being alone.

And then Jaskier quite literally saunters into Geralt's path and his life is suddenly filled with softness - soft words, soft tunes, soft hands, soft looks, the soft scent of flowers and sincerity.

And Geralt doesn't always know how to react to so much softness, doesn't know if he's meant to accept or reject it.

Jaskier makes the choice for him.

He sticks around and sings nothing but praises and washes all the entrails out of Geralt's hair without asking. He invites himself into contracts and talks enough for the both of them and feeds Roach sugar cubes when he thinks Geralt isn't looking. He refuses to stay behind and adds spices to their food and never fails to throw a wink Geralt's way during a performance.

And Geralt?

Geralt begins to accept it.

He begins to like it.

It's alarming how he falls into the pattern of looking forward to Jaskier's softness whenever they split and how he finds a strange comfort in being reunited with said softness.

He doesn't know how to convey that to Jaskier, but he tries.

When Jaskier all but drags him to royal events, he grumbles but rarely refuses, even if he's persuaded to forgo his armour. When Jaskier repeats the same verse over and over and over in attempts to perfect it, he patiently tunes it out instead of interrupting. When Jaskier stops complaining about being tired and goes quiet, he lets them take a break or stop for the night.

And he knows Jaskier is correctly translating his actions because for all his endless charm, the bard has one particularly bright and soft smile reserved only for those moments, for Geralt.

And it's not by any means an easy process but eventually, Geralt shares his own soft smiles with Jaskier.

And Jaskier?

Jaskier melts.

He briefly stops whatever he's doing every time Geralt smiles at him, whether it's walking or eating or complaining or singing, although he's professional enough not to let it ruin performances.

It's equally hilarious as it is endearing.

But it's also worrying.

Geralt worries that becoming soft will be his downfall, it's the only reason he'd ended up with a child surprise after all, and he worries that his sharpness will hurt Jaskier, will corrupt the softness that surrounds him in everything he does.

And then he's pleasantly surprised when Jaskier not so softly wishes a painful demise upon a rival, and again when he none too softly sings away the reputation of an innkeeper who'd insulted Geralt, and then again when he far from softly shatters his lute over the head of a mage during their monologue.

And again and again and again and again.

Until Geralt is forced to admit that Jaskier may be soft but he is not limited by his softness.

Until Geralt starts to believe Jaskier in that if a bard can be soft and yet sharp at the same time, then maybe a witcher can be sharp and yet soft at the same time.

Until Geralt realises that the only way he can truly harm Jaskier is if he keeps trying so hard not to.

Jaskier waits patiently for Geralt to set aside his sharp misconceptions and start accepting that truth and as soon as he does, things change.

Not drastically.

But Jaskier becomes more inclined to drape himself over Geralt when he's tired, more inclined to press himself into Geralt's side when he feels threatened, more inclined to braid flowers into Geralt's hair without even noticing he's doing it.

And Geralt?

Geralt craves it.

He keeps telling Jaskier he doesn't need anyone but that doesn't mean he doesn't want anyone - no, not anyone , he wants a very specific someone, a someone that freely gives himself up to Geralt for some reason.

He keeps telling Jaskier that he doesn't want anyone to need him but he thinks he might need someone to need him, a specific someone that always needs him and looks to him for safety and causes warmth to spread inside Geralt's bones.

As much as he tries to deny it, Geralt is fond of Jaskier.

It might be a little more than just fondness but he's not sure he's ready to admit that.

So he does his best to make sure Jaskier knows how much he's appreciated.

He indulges Jaskier's whims of buying new fruits and desserts that they don't necessarily need and allows Jaskier to ride Roach if he's upset or tired and occasionally offers his input on a new song.

He stands behind Jaskier at banquets so nobody can attack him and he all but growls at anyone who dares insult him in taverns and he may or may not turn a blind eye when Jaskier gets into sharp fights where he's the sole survivor.

And Jaskier?

Jaskier adores it.

He lives for it.

There is nothing in the world he loves quite as much as Geralt's soft ways of expressing affection.

Sure, his capacity for verbal indications of emotion is close to non-existent and often becomes infuriatingly difficult to decipher, but Jaskier is mostly willing to overlook that because everything else usually makes up for it.

And the two of them settle into a rhythm in which their lives are irrevocably intertwined and even the worst of pain can't pull them apart because apologies will always eventually tumble from their lips until they find forgiveness.

They settle into a rhythm where Geralt uses his swords to softly protect Jaskier and Jaskier uses his charm to sharply protect Geralt and everything they do is linked back to one another in some kind of way.

Their rhythm takes root in their hearts and their minds and their very blood because Destiny or not, the two of them are undeniably connected in a way that so few souls are and although they're very different, their connection is implicit.

So it almost comes as a surprise when, one day, after Yennefer and Ciri have retired themselves to bed so they can not-so-secretly practice how to throw hexes, Jaskier curls himself into Geralt's side and whispers a soft, sleepy "I love you"

and instead of humming quietly in response or pulling Jaskier closer and placing a kiss on his forehead as he usually does, Geralt softly whispers back, "I love you too."

Almost.

me? writing a fic about a designated chatterbox and only giving him one line of dialogue? more likely than you think...
but anyway, i hope you enjoyed this lil fic! feel free to come find me on tumblr (geraskifer) or instagram (words . ablaze) if you wish :)

thanks for reading! leave a review? xx