#LindaWrites

[professorjaskier]

Wuv the Bard Prompt: Kidfic

Hello everyone! Thanks to @whataboutthebard for hosting such an awesome event with great prompts. Thanks to @sulkyskywalker for beta reading! Read on A03 here

Title: Goodnight my Angel

Prompt: KidFic

Pairing: Jaskier/Geralt and Jaskier & Ciri

Rating: General

Warnings: brief mentions of a house fire and a car crash and mentions of canonical deaths (i.e. Calanthe and Eist)

Jaskier woke with a start at the sound of screaming.

His muddled mind took a moment to take stock of his surroundings. He was at home, in his bed…alone? Ah, right, Geralt was working the night shift again, but the screaming—

Ciri.

Without another thought, Jaskier scrambled to find his glasses on the bedside table and rushed out into the hallway towards Ciri’s room. 

Although he had known Ciri since she was a small child, she hadn’t been a permanent fixture in Geralt’s and his lives until recently. Geralt had volunteered to care for the infant nearly a decade earlier upon Pavetta and Duny’s untimely passing, but the courts decided that Ciri’s guardianship would go to her grandparents. Begrudgingly, Calanthe had allowed Geralt and Jaskier to visit Ciri on occasion, but Calanthe had loved jealously and feared that they would take Ciri from her. 

Jaskier wished that her fears hadn’t come to pass.

It had only been three months since they had gotten the call in the middle of the night. A house fire, consuming everything in its path and sparing none but Ciri. She’d been theirs ever since, along with the sleepless nights that accompanied her. 

Jaskier was no stranger to childhood trauma. As a middle school music teacher he often dealt with children that had seen far too much in their short time on Earth. Even so, -, he had no clue where to start.

Ciri had always been a sweet, energetic child, taking joy from the smallest things around her, but ever since the accident she’d withdrawn into herself. Jaskier and Geralt had tried everything to help; they had gotten her a therapist, tried to make her surroundings to her liking, hell, he had even learned how to bake her favorite treats. Each day the Ciri he knew and loved would peek out from behind the mask, like the sun on a cloudy day, but every night the nightmares returned with a vengeance.

Jaskier skidded around the last corner—grasping the wall as he tripped over the hallway runner—and burst into her room. With a quickness only brought by muscle memory, he flicked the switch, momentarily wincing at the sudden brightness of the room until his eyes adjusted.

The sight that greeted him broke his heart. 

As per usual, Ciri was still asleep. In the three months she had been with them, Ciri never woke up from her nightmares naturally. It wasn’t until either Geralt or Jaskier woke her that she was freed from the horrors of her mind. 

Jolted into action by another piercing scream, Jaskier leapt across the room and began to softly call her name. “Ciri. Cirilla, darling, open your eyes.”

Jaskier watched as she tossed around on her bed, her youthful face screwed up in terror. He wished to wake her more quickly by placing a hand on her arm, but he had learned his lesson after such an action had sent her straight into a panic attack. Instead, he continued to call out.

“Ciri. Cirilla, you’re safe. You’re in Geralt’s house with me. No one can hurt you here.”

With those words, Ciri shot straight up with a scream, pushing herself into the corner of her bed as her eyes darted frantically about until she caught sight of him. At that moment she launched herself across the bed and into his arms.

“Oh dearheart, you’re okay, I promise. You’re safe, you’re not there anymore.”

The only response he received were keening cries into the crook of his neck as she continued to sob. Helpless, Jaskier continued to murmur reassurances until she finally pulled away and wiped away her tears.

“I’m sorry,” she said with a sniffle, “I keep on waking you up with my stupid nightmares—”

Jaskier shook his head and opened his arms, a silent invitation that Ciri took as she curled up next to him. “Don’t apologize, Love. Your nightmares aren’t stupid. Besides, when you’re as fabulous as me, you don’t need beauty sleep darling.”

Ciri snorted out a laugh and pulled away once more to wipe away some stray tears. “I just want them to stop.”

“Of course, and someday they will.” Jaskier paused, deep in thought before he turned to her. “You know, I used to have nightmares too.”

Ciri’s eyes widened to show her interest even as her silence stretched on. Taking her nod as a signal to continue, Jaskier said, “When I was 10, I was in a bad car crash. I was stuck in the car for nearly an hour before emergency personnel could get to us. I dreamt of being trapped for a long time after and I would wake up my parents screaming for months.”

Ciri sniffled and bit her lip as she processed the words. At least, Jaskier hoped that was what she was doing. The machinations behind an 11-year old girl’s mind were unknown to him. 

“But it stopped?”

“Eventually,” he replied, rubbing a soothing pattern along her back, “but it took time.”

Ciri nodded, picking at her cuticles as he waited for her reply. After a few moments, she muttered, “But if the nightmares stop…does that mean I’m forgetting them?”

Jaskier’s heart broke as he looked into his goddaughter’s pale face and he fought back tears of his own. “No, darling. You aren’t forgetting them because you’ll still remember the good things everyday. You’ll remember your grandmother’s ferocity and Eist’s kindness. You’ll remember the shopping trips and horrible omelets—” He paused as Ciri let out a wet laugh and he placed a kiss at the crown of her head. “You’ll remember. You’ll just heal from the bad, and trust me when I say that’s what they would want for you, princess.”

Ciri nodded as tears streamed down her face. “Thank you, Jask.”

Jaskier shoved his own tears into a box for later and pasted on a smile. “Of course, darling. Now—” he punctuated the word by slapping both hands on his thighs and moving them both into a more comfortable position, “would you prefer a story or a song?”

“A song, please. Could you—I mean can I make a request?”

“Anything, Ciri, as long as I know it,” he replied, stroking his fingers through her long hair.

Ciri took in a shaky breath and moved so Jaskier could see her face. “My grandma used to sing me a song when I was a child when I had trouble sleeping. It goes something like this.”

Jaskier listened as she sang part of a chorus that he knew very well and smiled. “Yes, darling, I know that one quite well. I’ll sing it until you go to sleep.”

Ciri sniffled and leaned her head against his shoulder. “Thanks, Jask.”

“Anything, princess.”

With that Jaskier began to softly sing a tune that he knew very well. A song that Pavetta had loved when she’d been alive. 

Someday we’ll all be gone, 

But lullabies go on and on

They never die 

That’s how you and I will be

Jaskier shuddered as he sang those last words, and let the deep even breathing of Ciri bring him peace. With a smile, he lowered her down onto the bed and pressed a parting kiss to her brow. 

Before he could leave, he felt a small hand grasp at his wrist. Turning back he saw Ciri frowning with her eyes still closed. 

“Don’t go.”

“Okay.”

Without another word, Jaskier shut off the light and climbed into the bed, letting Ciri curl up close. 

Geralt would find the two of them curled up together the next morning, finally home from his shift. He’d smile, knowing that they would be alright. 

Everything would be alright.

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[cactusshirtarizona]

Tweeted

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— Linda C 🌵 (@LindaWrite) July 18, 2017

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[ivanabaqero]

/tagged/too hot hot damn i did this just for youu

Why do you and Mel look both so pretty??? This is not fair! Anyway, Lindsay Morgan ( and you know how much I adore her) or a younger Jenna Dewan Tatum!

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[professorjaskier]

Wuv the Bard: What About the Bard Post

Hey y'all! This is my first time posting for awhile, so I hope you enjoy. This is unbetad and thanks to @whataboutthebard for giving me inspiration!

Title: A Worthwhile Journey

Prompt: Seeing each other after a long time

Pairing: Jaskier/Geralt

Rating: General

Warnings: None

Geralt grimaced as the putrid smells of Oxenfurt greeted him. 

There was a reason that he stayed away from cities. Their odor always bombarded his senses, making his head spin and ache in a way that it rarely did. The fact he even considered stepping foot in one showed the sway that Jaskier had over him. 

Jaskier. 

Geralt tugged slightly at Roach’s reins, urging her to move the slightest bit faster as he navigated their way through the throngs of people. Though she huffed and tugged against his hold, she upped her pace. She must have felt his desperation to get to their destination to behave that well. 

As they slowly approached the gates to the university, Geralt smiled softly, knowing that his bard would be waiting for him behind those gates. 

His bard. His. 

Jaskier had been several things to him through the years. At first he was just a nuisance, a whelp of a boy, yipping at his heels and constantly bringing trouble and a symphony of noises wherever he went. Although the noise and the trouble never diminished, it only took a few months for Geralt to see him as a staple in his life. Jaskier would help him in ways the witcher had never even realized he needed; stitching his wounds, washing his hair, and providing him with smiles as easily as breathing. Truthfully, Geralt had considered Jaskier a travel companion and a friend long before he admitted it to the other man. 

As time passed, he began to see the bard as something more. He was no longer a child wet behind the ears, but a grown man. The day Jaskier had taken off his shirt to bathe in the Pontar and had shown not a smooth chest, but one covered in wiry, copper hairs, Geralt had not known what to do. It was as if Jaskier had transformed in a single moment, and from then on Geralt couldn’t stop thinking about it. 

Geralt had known Jaskier was an attractive man, but he had ignored the bard’s come ons for years. After that moment, it became harder to do so. 

They’d known each other for fifteen years now, and Geralt was still unsure what Jaskier now meant to him. Yes, he was still an annoying bard and the best travel companion and friend that he knew, but he was also more. Witchers had no feelings, or at least that was what humans said, and Geralt wished it were so. If he was truly the emotionless beast people believed him to be, then his heart wouldn’t twist so painfully when he and the bard parted ways for the winter. 

He also wouldn’t be braving the sounds and smells of Oxenfurt. 

As Geralt entered the gates of the university, heading towards the stables, he stopped and listened. Through an arch to his left, a melodious voice poured forth and the familiar strums of a lute. He knew that voice. He would know that voice anywhere. 

Without a second thought, he guided Roach towards the noise, helplessly following it like a fish on a hook until he saw him. As expected, Jaskier was sitting in a small garden, strumming on his lute and singing something Geralt did not recognize. It must have been a new composition from the winter months. However, Jaskier was not alone. Instead, he had a group of young men and women watching him in awe as they scribbled frantically in their notebooks. 

All too soon the music stopped, Jaskier gently laying his lute back in its case before turning around to address the crowd. “Now as you can see, the second song I played was far different from the first. Can anyone tell me why?”

A young, blonde man raised his hand timidly and quietly said, “The tempo was different.”

Jaskier nodded slowly, but Geralt was well-versed in the bard’s expressions. That was the face Jaskier used when he wanted to let someone down gently. 

Of course he was right. Jaskier finally said, “Yes, but it’s something more important than that, Michal. Anyone else?” When none of his students volunteered, he sighed and said, “Very well. The big difference was the emotion behind it. Both songs shared the same key and chord structure, but one was more compelling, am I right?”

All of the student’s nodded as one and Jaskier smiled. “Yes, one was more compelling because it dealt with deep emotions. The first song, composed by myself nearly a decade ago, is a dainty ballad about a sunny day in a field of flowers. Nice, fun to sing and listen to, but truly a bit dull. The other ballad is also about spending a day in a field of flowers, but it focuses on the man laying in the field and how he is longing for someone. A friend, a lover, the audience doesn’t know, but everyone can understand longing for something. That is why the song is more potent.”

At that moment, Jaskier looked up and saw him, his blue eyes widening in delight before he turned to his class. “Right, class is dismissed for the day. Don’t forget, your final compositions are due next Friday, and they must be performed. Make sure to practice!”

As the students quickly packed up their things and left the small garden, Jaskier bounded over towards him, a wide grin on his face. “Geralt! My darling witcher, you’re early! I still have classes until the end of next week.” Without a moment’s hesitation, the bard threw himself at Geralt, embracing him with a surprisingly tight hug. 

Geralt gave himself a moment to lose himself in Jaskier. The almond lotion that he used on his hands and the chamomile scent he sprayed on his clothes intermingled with the oil he used on his lute to create a smell that was uniquely Jaskier. The bard was wearing his ridiculous university robes, the ones he complained about with vigor whenever he was forced to wear them. Even through the endless folds of fabric, Geralt could feel Jaskier’s surprisingly strong body pressing against him. With that thought, Geralt pulled back before his mind could wander to more inappropriate places. 

“Snow melted early. Decided to make my way here.” Or he had left earlier than advisable to find Jaskier, but the less the bard knew of his desperation, the better. 

“Ah, well you can stay with me. I have a guest room in my lodging. Besides, that way I can tell you about how Valdo fucking Marx tried to steal yet another one of my poems, the thieving hag—”

Geralt smiled, following after Jaskier as the younger man railed against his colleague, finally realizing two truths: he loved Jaskier and yes, the journey to find his bard was worth it. If Jaskier was at the end, it would always be worth it. 

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[professorjaskier]

Hello darling wife, I come to your inbox to beg of you some words. Geralt notices a scar on Jaskier’s face, close to his mouth, and can’t stop staring. Please and thank you🥺❤️

Hello wife!! I've finally gotten to your ask. I would also like to thank all my followers because I've hit my 100 follower mark! Thank you for reading my content. Send me an ask if you have any prompt requests :)

Title: We All Got Scars

Pairing: Geraskier

Tags: Some Self-Esteem Issues and they are Hungover

Word Count: 2K

Geralt groaned as his eyes opened and he took stock of his surroundings. He was in his room. Normally that wouldn’t be surprising, but he couldn’t recall how he had gotten there.

Last night was a technicolor blur of tequila and Jaskier. Geralt took a moment to try and recall what time he’d gotten home, but it was all a blank. Damn Yennefer and her parties. He was getting too old for this shit.

Another twitch of his body brought forth a wave of nausea and pain. Coffee. He needed coffee.

Drawn out from under the covers by the promise of caffeine and Advil, he blearily stumbled towards the kitchen, solely relying on his muscle memory to make it there. As he turned the corner, Geralt was surprised to find Jaskier half-sprawled on their kitchen counter, watching the coffee machine with single-minded focus. Jaskier usually didn’t make it home after Yennefer’s parties, instead taking the opportunity to find a partner for the evening. To see him home this early was unheard of.

“Mornin’,” Jaskier mumbled into his arms as he continued to stare at the coffee maker.

“Hmmm.”

Jaskier chuckled, the motion causing the younger man to wince and look up at him. “Ditto, Geralt. When did we make it home?”

“Fuck if I know.”

At that moment the Jaskier perked up and grabbed the coffee pot off the hot plate with a triumphant expression. He looked obviously hungover with the dark circles under his eyes, greasy hair, and the scar on the corner of his lip—wait, what?

Geralt blinked and stared, transfixed by the small mark located near the top curve of his roommate’s lip. It was small, barely noticeable unless someone were looking intently at Jaskier, but that was the thing. Geralt always looked at Jaskier. He’d been entranced by the younger man since the moment they had met, and Geralt would have noticed a scar on Jaskier’s face before now. It must be new.

Geralt and Jaskier had parted ways during their summer holidays. Geralt had taken the chance to work at the family business to recoup his finances while Jaskier had been hired at a summer stock theatre far away from their university. They’d texted one another often, and Geralt received the occasional Facetime, but those interactions couldn’t compare with living together in an apartment. Something must have happened during those few months.

“Earth to Geralt!”

His attention was pulled back to Jaskier as the younger man snapped his fingers to catch his notice. Geralt winced, the small, repetitive noises feeling like a person using his head as a drum. He was never drinking again.

With a snarl he finally acknowledged Jaskier. “What?”

“I’ve asked you how many eggs you want five times. I know it’s usually three after a night out, but I wanted to check and what does my generosity get me?! An absolute disregard of my existence.”

Geralt watched as Jaskier prattled in an increasingly ridiculous manner while he continued to make scrambled eggs. He was too hungover to understand what the other man was saying—truthfully, he had trouble keeping up with Jaskier normally, but his concentration was being further broken by that little blemish on his lip. How hadn’t he noticed it before?

His legs moved of their own volition and three strides later he was standing beside him. Jaskier had yet to notice his shift in position, still going on his rant, but that could wait. This was far more important.

Using all the tenderness he possessed, he gently placed his hand on Jaskier’s jaw and slowly brought Jaskier’s gaze to meet his own. Jaskier finally paused midword, his mouth hanging open for a moment before he tilted his head.

“Geralt, what—?”

“What happened?”

Before Jaskier could ask for clarification, Geralt swiped his thumb along the scar, savoring the warmth of Jaskier’s skin. It was so soft, even the small ridge where the old wound did not blend in with its surroundings. He’d known Jaskier’s skin was soft. They’d brushed against each other several times while they’d lived together. It was bound to happen when living in an apartment the size of a shoe box. Between that and Jaskier’s tactile nature, Geralt had felt the smoothness of his roommate’s skin before, but not like this.

Suddenly realizing that his touch has lingered too long, Geralt tears away his hand, noting that his hand felt colder than ever after taking it away from Jaskier’s warmth. He shouldn’t have given into the temptation of touching Jaskier like that. Now he would know what he was missing.

Tearing his gaze away from the scar, Geralt realized that Jaskier was uncharacteristically silent. The younger man hadn’t said a word, his own hand trailing towards his lips and ghosting over the scar. Geralt watched in confusion as Jaskier’s eyebrows drew together before his lips formed a perfect O-shape.

“Oh. That.”

Jaskier blushed and turned back towards the eggs, throwing himself into the job of keeping them unburned and edible. Geralt watched him intently, knowing that Jaskier would eventually say something more. The man always had something to say.

Geralt was right. Jaskier soon sighed, something Geralt knew signalled that Jaskier was preparing to speak, but something wasn’t right. Jaskier’s shoulders were hunching inwards, as though he were trying to make himself look smaller, and his usual sunny smile was dimmed by something more than the hangover plaguing them both. All of this pointed to one truth: something was wrong.

“Just a small scar from childhood. Got it from falling off the jungle gym at school.”

Geralt furrowed his brows, trying to move Jaskier’s face towards him once more, but this time he found resistance. With a sigh of defeat, Geralt replied, “I’ve never seen it before.”

Jaskier nodded, his eyes staring intently at the eggs. “I usually cover it up. Forgot to do it this morning. Must be more hungover than I thought.” Jaskier smiled, but it appeared more like a grimace.

This was wrong. Jaskier was never embarrassed about his body. He walked around the apartment in little to no clothing and the walls were thin enough that Geralt knew he had his fair share of partners, but—

Well, now that he thought about it, Jaskier spent a lot of time in front of the mirror every morning. He would primp and preen, ensuring that not a single-hair could be found out of place. Sometimes Jaskier would say no to pizza with their friends, saying that he should really order a salad instead and god forbid he had a pimple! He’d once cancelled a date because he had a zit on his forehead.

Maybe it wasn’t such a surprise that Jaskier would be this worked up over a tiny facial scar.

He was drawn out of his thoughts by Jaskier’s sharp snort of laughter. “I know it’s not a pretty sight, trust me. Doesn’t suit me at all, not like your scars. If only!”

Geralt watched as Jaskier used the spatula to move the eggs around the pan. He was still trying to understand what Jaskier was talking about when his roommate kept going.

“I’ve been covering it up since I got it. My mother hated it, always said it was a shame that I’d ruined my pretty face so young and it is a shame because I need my face for my career. I can’t believe I’ve gotten so sloppy, but don’t worry about it, you won’t be seeing it again—”

Those last words drew Geralt out of his shock and thrust him back into action. “That’s bullshit.”

“What?” Geralt flinched at Jaskier’s hurt tone and the confusion shining in his eyes, and it takes a moment for him to understand why.

“No, no, not the part about me not seeing it again. Everything else. You’re beautiful, Jaskier.” Geralt trailed off as he spoke those three words, his friend’s name coming out as a whisper.

There was a moment of silence as both men stared at one another, each waiting for the other to make their move. When Jaskier stayed uncharacteristically silent, Geralt continued.

“You are. Anyone would tell you that, and a small little scar won’t change that. I’m just glad it isn’t new.” Geralt looked up into Jaskier’s eyes to find confusion, so he continued. “I thought you’d gotten it over the summer while I wasn’t there to protect you.” He gently brushed his thumb over the small blemish, his skin burning once more where he touched Jaskier. He was like a moth drawn to a flame, and he knew he’d never forget the feel of Jaskier’s skin against his own.

Jaskier smiled, his blue eyes filling with tears as he placed his hand over Geralt’s, clasping them together against his cheek. “Oh you sweet, sweet man. I’m sorry I scared you.”

“Your response scared me more, Jask,” he replied, his eyes continuing to dart down towards his lips. “You are beautiful. You don’t need to cover this up.”

“But—”

“No,” Geralt said, cutting off whatever ridiculous comeback danced on his silver-tongue. “You’re handsome and smart and—fuck, I’m sorry, I don’t have the words. I’m not a poet like you are, but you shouldn’t feel ashamed of such a tiny thing when you’re so much more.”

There was silence as Jaskier took in the words he’d said. He hoped they’d come out right. Although he was no poet, he would always try for Jaskier.

“But—”

Geralt rolled his eyes and leaned in closer, pressing his lips against Jaskier’s. He felt the small gasp of shock against his lips, but it was soon replaced by an eager tongue and a wicked smile. It was everything he’d dreamed it would be, except—

Geralt pulled away, the reality of what he’d done sinking in. He’d kissed Jaskier. He’d kissed him and Jaskier had kissed him back, but what if it had been a mistake? What if Jaskier hadn’t wanted to kiss him? Shit, he’d held back his feelings for years and this was what destroyed everything? He’d have to start apartment hunting and apologize—well he could do that last bit now.

“Sorry,” Geralt murmured as he tried to pull away, but he found himself tugged back with a familiar pair of lips pressing hungrily against his lips.

This kiss was quick compared to the first and Jaskier soon broke away, breathing heavily as he looked into Geralt’s eyes. “Don’t apologize. I’ve been waiting for that for years.”

Geralt blinked, momentarily unable to deal with the fact that Jaskier had loved him back for years. They could’ve been doing that for years, but Geralt had more pressing matters to deal with.

He traced the length of Jaskier’s cheekbones, his nose, his lips, ending with the small scar that had started this conversation.

“They’re not ugly. You’re pretty.”

Geralt watched as Jaskier’s eyes softened. A smile worked its way onto his face as the singer replied, “You really think so?”

“I know so.”

Jaskier opened his mouth, but before he could speak Geralt saw him sniff the air, confusion flooding his face.

“Shit, the eggs!” Without another word, Jaskier bolted towards the stove and pulled the smoking pan off the hob.

Geralt watched as Jaskier fanned away smoke and frantically opened windows, letting those kisses play through his mind. They were perfect. Everything he’d dreamed of, notwithstanding the burned eggs. It wouldn’t have been a moment with Jaskier without one of his idiosyncrasies making things interesting.

For now, he had to make sure the fire alarms wouldn’t go off and make their hangovers worse. They’d have time to talk later.

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[professorjaskier]

You're Perfect to Me (Geralt x Jaskier x Eskel)

Happy belated birthday @lesbianspritzee! I know you love Eskel, so I hope you enjoy your fic :) This is also a submission for the @softtummysupport Soft Tummy Season, for the Library prompt. Enjoy!

CW: Body Image Issues and Eskel's shit self-esteem

Beta'd by @sulkyshengshou

Summary: It's winter in Kaer Morhen and the three men are reunited for the first time after falling into each other's beds the previous winter. Eskel has a self-worth crisis and the boys cuddle him by the fire

Eskel sighed as he settled back into the ancient armchair, opened his book, and tried to lose himself in the story. It was one he had read several times in his long life; the book’s worn pages were a testament to the amount of times he had flipped through its pages. He’d taken it out, hoping that it’s familiar weight and words would distract him.

He’d been wrong.

Geralt and Jaskier hadn’t arrived yet.

With a growl, Eskel placed the book roughly on the table beside him and massaged his temples. His two lovers usually showed up at the keep earlier in the season, with Jaskier’s infectious smile and Geralt’s relaxation warming the space more than its many fireplaces.

This year was proving to be different.

As the snow raged outside, Eskel resigned himself to a lonely winter with only Vesemir as his company. Lambert had also not shown up, presumably to spend time with Aiden. It was fine. He’d make it through.

At that moment, Eskel heard the large, heavy wooden doors of the keep blast open. With one last look around the library, he stood up and headed to the Great Hall, presuming that the wind had blown open the doors again. Just another chore added to his endless list of duties to keep their crumbling home liveable.

But as he walked closer to the entrance, Eskel began to hear chatter and smell the familiar scents of onion and chamomile.

They were home.

Picking up his pace, Eskel slid into the room and took in his surroundings. Sure enough, two frost-covered figures stood in the middle of the hall —the much leaner one was shivering terribly and leaning against the other. Even obscured by a thick layer of ice he would recognize them anywhere.

“E-e-eskel,” Jaskier said, teeth chattering, “s-sorry we’re late. The st-storm caught us off guard.”

Eskel rolled his eyes and made his way over to his two lovers. “We need to get these clothes off you.”

“T-that excited to see me?” the bard shot back, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. It would’ve been a lovely and convincing sight if not for the slight blue tint to his lips.

“Jaskier,” Geralt scolded, as he tried to peel his own layers onto the floor. Although witchers were far more resistant to cold, Eskel knew that it could still be very uncomfortable..

“Can you blame me, Geralt?” Jaskier asked as Eskel started to unwrap him of his many layers. “I haven’t seen our beautiful lover in months! I’m a simple man!”

Eskel blushed, letting Geralt’s response of, “Simple?” and Jaskier’s gasp of outrage slip to the back of his consciousness. At least he knew the warmth was already helping the bard, if the verbal tear Geralt was receiving was anything to go by.

Beautiful. He’d never been called beautiful before.

This…thing between the three of them was new. It had only started the previous winter after a night of far too much White Gull. Before that, he and Geralt had slept with one another for years without putting any label on it. It was comforting, knowing that someone in the world knew him and cared for him, but it couldn’t be anything more than that. Eskel knew Geralt deserved better, and after his scars —well, it became even clearer that he could do better as well.

Then five winters past, Geralt had brought Jaskier to The Keep.

Jaskier was…he was amazing. A breath of fresh air for the ancient witcher’s of Kaer Morhen, the bard had waltzed into their lives and showed them care and loyalty. Not to mention that Eskel was convinced that Jaskier was one of the prettiest men to have walked the Continent. He and Geralt made a fine match, and Eskel had grown used to his bed growing cold as Jaskier and Geralt fell together time and time again.

Though the three of them had fallen together a few times since that drunken night, and Eskel privately called them his lovers, they had never truly defined things. The bard had run fingers through his hair and praised his love making abilities —something at which he excelled, but did not always enjoy— and Geralt had snuggled close late at night, but it couldn’t be more than wanting to add spice to the bedroom.

Eskel knew who he was. He wasn’t courageous and brave like Geralt. He was a coward when it truly came down to it. Too afraid to say what needed to be said for fear of breaking apart the little happiness he’d gained.

He also knew that he was not a looker.

Geralt and Jaskier were beautiful. Geralt commanded a room with his fine features and flowing hair, the broadness of his shoulders emphasizing the trim, but sturdy line of his waist. Even as a witcher, young people would look at him with lust, wishing to see what the great White Wolf had to offer.

Jaskier was a walking dream —big blue eyes and a sweet smile that hid a sharp tongue and even sharper wit. The bard had several lovers spread throughout the kingdoms —nobility and peasants, the bard was not one to discriminate— and his fair looks garnered looks of appreciation from everyone he passed. He knew it too, spending hours preening over his hair to make it fall just right.

Eskel, well, he wasn’t any of those things. Even disregarding the scars, his features were too broad to be considered beautiful. His body lacked the leanness that Geralt’s did, and though he was strong a stubborn pouch remained over his abdomen. How someone like Jaskier could think that he was beautiful baffled him, because it was a lie. He’d never been beautiful.

“Eskel?”

The witcher looked up to find both Jaskier and Geralt wearing significantly less clothing than before and staring at him with a worried gleam shared between them. Shit. He’d been brooding for longer than he’d thought.

“Darling, are you alright?” Jaskier asked, walking closer to place a slender hand upon his shoulder. Eskel shivered at the contact, idly trying to remember the last time someone had touched him like that. It might’ve been since he’d last seen Jaskier.

“I’m fine, Jask, I was just worried about you two.”

Jaskier nodded and leaned forward, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. “I’m sorry, darling, we got caught up on a contract up the mountain. Geralt was too much of a sweetheart to say no.”

Geralt grumbled and Eskel caught a tint of pink rising on his pale cheeks. Whoever said witchers couldn’t blush was a liar.

“What kind of contract?” Eskel asked, pulling Jaskier closer to him. Although the bard was far more talkative now, he was still cold as ice.

Eskel felt Jaskier’s laugh rumble against his chest. “You want to tell him, Geralt?”

There was silence for a moment as Geralt looked at the floor. With a sigh, he looked up from the floor and pinned a chair with a glare. “A little girl said that a monster had stolen her doll. She asked me to look for it.”

Eskel felt laughter bubbling up in his throat, but held it back unlike Jaskier who was giggling as he pressed up against him. “And what was your payment?” Jaskier pressed, a smile dancing on his lips.

“...Two biscuits and a hug.”

Eskel felt his heart warm at the story, imagining a small child presenting Geralt with his payment. Geralt had always been the best of them.

“Eskel, you should’ve seen it! It was adorable,” Jaskier babbled, even as another deep shudder wracked his body. He needed to get closer to the fire.

With a jerk of his head, Eskel started leading Jaskier towards the library, hoping that Geralt would follow them. They would remove the clothes from the Great Hall once the bard had regained his warmth.

As they walked towards the library, Eskel let Jaskier’s melodious voice rush over him and smiled. The bard talked incessantly, but he loved it. Although some would find the constant noise grating, Eskel found it to be a balm against the loneliness that often plagued him.

Upon entering the room, Eskel let go of Jaskier, intending to find furs to place in front of the fire. Instead, he found a slight weight holding him back, clinging to his arm.

“Jask, I’m just going to find some blankets for us.” When all he received in response was a whine, he smiled and ran a hand through the bard’s wet hair. “Go to Geralt. He will keep you warm until I have everything set up.”

Another pitiful whine rose from the bard’s lips as he burrowed himself deeper into Eskel’s arms. “You’re warmer and far more comfortable,” he finally said, a pout visible on his lips.

Before he could answer, he heard Geralt chuckle behind him. “He is,” Geralt simply replied, before walking ahead and gathering the furs himself. Eskel watched, allowing himself to be grateful that his extra bulk could provide this comfort.

Soon enough, the furs were spread evenly on the floor, leaving more than enough room for the three of them to lay on them. Using the bard’s tight grip to his advantage, Eskel lifted up the bard without protest and gently lowered him onto the soft surface.

The moment the bard hit the floor, Jaskier’s arms lifted back towards Eskel. “Join us, Eskel. I’ve missed you terribly.”

How could he deny such a request?

Lowering himself to the floor, Eskel wrapped his body around Jaskier and soon felt the familiar weight of Geralt’s arms reaching out from behind. A part of him he didn’t realize existed relaxed, luxuriating in the feeling of the two people he cared for most surrounding him.

Minutes passed as they all fell silent, breathing slowly and taking in each other’s presence. Unsurprisingly, the calm was broken by Jaskier as he twisted around in Eskel’s arms to face him.

“I’m still cold,” the bard said, a cute pout reaching his pink lips.

“Hmmm, and what do you want me to do about that?” Eskel asked.

The bard’s tongue darted out as he sat there in deep thought. “Well, skin-to-skin contact is supposed to be the best way to warm up someone from the cold.”

Eskel froze as his doubts from earlier came rushing back. The weeks he had spent waiting for Geralt and Jaskier had been long and the stress had led to stress baking which had then led to stress eating. His stomach was much softer than usual, threatening to hang over his waistband with the next sweet he devoured. There was no way Jaskier —purveyor of all that was beautiful— would think that he was beautiful after seeing him now. Geralt would be too kind to say anything, but it wouldn’t be long before he started to question whether he was fit to be a witcher. Why would Geralt —the best of them all— want someone with such a lack of control?

His moment’s hesitation must have been too long, for Jaskier frowned and started to backtrack. “Of course, you don’t have to. I know it’s been a long year and if you’ve changed your mind—”

“No! No, nothing like that, Jask, it’s just…”

Eskel paused, weighing out the pros and cons. Perhaps Jaskier and Geralt hadn’t noticed. If he came up with another excuse, they could move past it!

But Eskel knew that would only prolong the inevitable. They would both eventually realize that Eskel was not good enough for either of them. It didn’t matter how soft he got or how hard he tried —in the end, they would leave him for something better.

Best to get it over with.

With a deep breath, Eskel fixed his gaze at the ceiling and began to speak. “I arrived weeks ago and I waited for you to arrive. With each passing day, I started to imagine the worst had happened. That a monster had finally bested you, or that you had gotten stuck on the mountain path….that you’d decided not to come after last year.”

A sharp gasp sounded from Jaskier’s direction, but Eskel ignored it and continued. “I started baking a lot to pass the time when I wasn’t rebuilding the keep or running drills. Unfortunately that had some consequences and…well, I know I’ve never been svelte like Geralt or the others, but…well, it’s not exactly pretty to look at and I know you like pretty things. That’s just something I can’t give you, so I’m sorry.”

Eskel swallowed and kept staring at the ceiling, wishing that the floor would just swallow him whole. It was for the best. This would give him the chance to heal and move on before he became too attached.

Who was he kidding? That time had come and passed ages ago.

He was brought back to the present when a lightly calloused hand placed itself on his cheek and gently maneuvered it to the side. “Eskel, please look at me.”

Eskel clenched his jaw, but did as he was asked. Although he’d only known Jaskier for a few years, he found himself unable to ignore his words, no matter how much his self-preservation begged him to.

He stiffly turned to look at the bard.

Jaskier looked at him with wet eyes full of compassion. Great, he’d made Jaskier cry. This was the worst break up ever.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, using one of his rough hands to brush away a stray tear.

“You’re sorry?” Jaskier asked incredulously. “You have nothing to apologize for, Eskel. In fact, I think Geralt and I owe you an apology.”

An affirmative hum rang through his other ear as Geralt’s arms tightened around him.

“I don’t understand,” Eskel replied, confusion muddling his thoughts. What could they have to apologize for? They’ve done nothing wrong.

“Let me try to make you understand, okay?” Eskel nodded, leaving the space for the bard to plead his case.

“I’m sorry, because I apparently haven’t been clear. What we have between us isn’t just a fling, or me wanting something pretty —although you do fulfill that requirement darling. No, I speak for myself, and I believe Geralt as well, when I say that we are here because we want you because we think you are marvelous.”

Eskel gasped at the soft words, letting them rush over him like a stream soothing away the rough exterior of a rock. “You can’t mean that,” he muttered, forcing his eyes away from the earnest look on Jaskier’s face. He couldn’t.

“I do,” he replied simply, “I do, because you are perfect for us. I love every part of you, Eskel, and I’m sorry if that wasn’t made clear last winter, but I am lost on you. I-if you feel differently, that’s okay. I wouldn’t force you to be with us if you didn’t want to. Hell, if you decided one day that you want only Geralt, that’s okay too, but I need you to know that I want you because you are perfect for me.”

Geralt hummed into his ear and murmured, “I wish I could make a speech as nice as that one, but I can’t. Just know that what Jaskier says also rings true for me. You’re my first love, Eskel.”

Eskel stayed silent, letting the words run through his mind as he tried to make sense of them. They loved him. Him. No matter his deficiencies, they loved him. Despite the amount of times he let the words repeat, Eskel couldn’t believe them.

“Also,” the bard said, interrupting his thought process, “I love your body. I like your softness. You’re one of the strongest men I know, but you make for a much better pillow than Geralt. Cuddling with you was something I lamented missing all year.”

“Truly?” Eskel asked, a small flame of hope burning in his chest.

“Yes, he complained I was too bony to cuddle and would wax poetic about your stomach and arms for hours,” Geralt replied, his eye roll evident from his tone of voice.

“Yes, it was quite tragic, Eskel. I was cold and wanted a cuddle and you weren’t there. It was wanton cruelty at Destiny’s hands!”

Eskel snorted at the bard’s theatrics, but his humor soon melted away as Jaskier gently placed his hands at the edge of his shirt.

“I understand if you want to keep your shirt on, darling, but know that I would never be disgusted by you. Ever. Are we clear?”

Eskel nodded slowly, clenching his jaw as he gathered the courage to sit up, take off his shirt, and lay back down between his two lovers.

He waited silently for a response, but for once the bard did not speak. Instead, Eskel felt cold fingers brush along the softness of his stomach. Looking up, he found the bard smiling with contentment and he snuggled closer to him. “See?” he asked, sleep already tinging his voice.

“Yes, I see,” he responded as Geralt lowered himself onto Eskel’s stomach, utilizing it as a makeshift pillow.

Perhaps he had been wrong. Although he wasn’t beautiful to most of the world, the two men curled up beside him thought differently.

He could live with that.

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[professorjaskier]

Working Out the Way to Your Heart

Hi y'all! This is a fic written for @thewitcherbog's flash challenge. Thanks to @bonafide-whumper and @sulkyshengshou for beta reading. Hope you enjoy!

Gen, Geraskier hurt/comfort and fluff, A03 link

CW: mild internalized fatphobia, fat-shaming, homophobic comments, and awkward flirting at the gym and fair

Jaskier let out a forlorn sigh as he pulled into the parking lot of his new gym. It looked just as shiny and terrifying as he’d imagined, the silver chrome sign with “Morhen’s” etched into it more fit for a high-class restaurant than a workout facility. He stayed in his car and glared at the sign, cursing everything that had led him there.

Fucking Valdo Marx. Most of the time Jaskier was able to put aside his hatred for the other man for the sake of his career. Yes he was a prick, but there was no better manager for up-and-coming stars, and Valdo had truly earned his reputation. Jaskier had never been more popular, his streaming numbers skyrocketing in the past few months, but his fame had come at a price.

“One last order of business and then you can go. I got you a gym membership,” Valdo had said, shoving a shiny silver membership card towards him.

Jaskier had spluttered, aghast at Valdo’s bluntness, but before he could get a word in edgewise, Valdo had continued. “It’s a gym many celebrities use and they are known for their confidentiality and getting results. If you want to make it big, it’s time to take your image seriously.”

Jaskier had blushed and left without another word. That had happened a week ago, although the cruel words had looped through his mind on repeat since then. Forever the procrastinator, he had put off the inevitable until he’d received yet another pointed voicemail from Valdo earlier that morning. Yes, he had put on a bit of weight lately, late night snacks tempting him after long hours in the recording studio, but it wasn’t that noticeable...was it?

The pinched feeling of his jeans around his waist was answer enough, so he’d finally bit the bullet and driven to Morhen’s. Valdo was right. Just looking at their reviews on Yelp had proven that they were a top tier institution. Their website also boasted several exercise classes as well as the opportunity to book an appointment with a personal trainer.

As if.

Jaskier hated gyms and the idea of an incredibly fit person forcing him to do push ups in front of people sounded like his worst nightmare. For now, he’d go inside, look around, and order a Peloton for his house to get Valdo off his back. Hopefully, this would be the last time he visited this establishment.

“C’mon Jask, you can do this,” he muttered under his breath. Using his last burst of bravery, he locked his car and walked through the large double doors.

Sweat and anxiety pervaded his nose before he had the chance to take in anything else. Jaskier chuckled at the familiar scent, noting that all gyms smelled the same regardless of its clientele’s net worth. God, he hated this.

Shaking off the last of his nerves, he walked towards the main desk and stopped, stunned at the sight before him. Behind the desk sat the most beautiful man he’d ever laid eyes on. His silver hair lent an ageless quality to his face, leaving Jaskier uncertain of whether he was thirty or sixty. Either number could be possible, but with biceps like that, Jaskier would bet he was younger than his hair color would suggest. Honestly, how his polo clung to his body was a mystery to Jaskier, one that he would love the chance to unravel.

Jaskier gasped as the man looked up, pinning him with eyes like molten gold. Maybe he would have to rethink his stance on gyms.

“Can I help you?” the mysterious man behind the counter asked, tilting his head as they looked at one another.

Jaskier opened his mouth, struggling to find the words that should have been at the tip of his tongue. It should’ve been a simple conversation, but Jaskier’s brain had turned off in the presence of the god-like man before him.

“Do you already have a membership?” the man asked, this time speaking slowly as though he were speaking to an idiot who couldn’t understand him. To be fair, Jaskier hadn’t shown any evidence of intelligence throughout this entire interaction, but that was going to change.

Jaskier nodded and fumbled for his card. “Umm, yeah, yeah I do.”

Alright, maybe it wasn’t going to change.

The handsome man — who on further evaluation was wearing a tiny name tag with the name Geralt in neat, silver print — nodded towards the entryway. “Just scan in here.”

Jaskier nodded again, not trusting his words for the first time in his life. Words usually spewed out of him faster than he could control. How had this stranger affected him so strongly? It made no sense.

As he walked through the turnstile, he heard Geralt say, “Have a good workout.”

“Thanks, you too!”

Jaskier winced at his faux pas. You too?!? What the hell had he been thinking?

As he turned around to apologize, he noticed a small quirk of the other man’s lips that hadn’t been there before. “Nervous?”

A smile found its way to Jaskier’s lips for the first time in the past few hours as he nodded. “Yeah. That obvious, huh?”

The silver-haired man shrugged his shoulders as he gave Jaskier the up-down. “I’ve always found that it’s easier to workout with someone. Makes it less scary, especially for first-timers.”

Jaskier blushed, unconsciously crossing his arms in front of himself. Of course the handsome bastard would know that it was his first time in awhile. That was the whole reason that he was there, a voice that sounded uncannily like Valdo’s sniped at him.

“Yes, well I don’t really have anyone to go with, so I thought I’d just look around.” Jaskier hoped that would be the end of the conversation. When the other man just stared at him, he turned on his heel and headed towards the area filled with ellipticals.

“Wait!”

Jaskier turned back around to see Geralt launching himself over the front desk and lightly jogging over to him. It took every ounce of his self-control to stop his mouth from dropping open in awe. If it was possible, the other man’s physique became more impressive the closer he got.

“I could workout with you, if you’d like.”

Jaskier blinked slowly, letting the words process as his brain attempted to turn back on. As much as he would love to watch this hunk of a man work out, he was certain that he would rather die than suffer the embarrassment of allowing Geralt to see how out of shape he was. Yeah, no thanks.

With that in mind, Jaskier tried to think up any excuse he could to extricate himself from this situation. “Oh, thank you, but I wouldn’t want to slow you down. You look very fit and I’m...well, very not, and I probably won’t be here for long. Anyways, aren’t you on desk duty?”

Geralt shrugged and whistled loudly in the direction of an equally built red-headed man. “Lambert, take over desk duty.”

“What the fuck? Why would I—?”

“Just do it or I’ll tell dad what you and Aiden did last night in the—”

“Fine,” the redhead — who was apparently called Lambert — replied, scowling as he passed the two of them on his way to the front desk.

Jaskier chuckled at the sight of such a powerful man looking like a mopey zoo lion behind such a small desk. He was so amused by the situation that he’d almost forgotten about his predicament until Geralt cleared his throat.

“I’m not on desk duty anymore.”

Shit. Jaskier thought over his options, quickly weighing the pros and cons. If he said yes, then he would get to spend more time with Geralt. The man was an enigma and Jaskier needed to know more. Not only would he be able to talk to the other man, but maybe he could pick up some workout tips. The other man had to know what he was doing with a physique like that. Besides, it was Geralt’s job to see people in all stages of fitness. Maybe he could help him.

“Alright, that would be nice. I’m a little lost with all these machines. I honestly don’t know where to start.” Alright, that was a minor lie. Although he hated gyms, he had a slight idea of how to navigate them, but Geralt didn’t need to know that.

The other man grunted in response and nodded over towards the treadmill. “What are your fitness goals?” he asked as they navigated their way through sweaty people and moving equipment.

Jaskier shrugged, looking down at himself, noting the way his stomach came out further than it had used to. “Lose some weight. My manager said it was time to start focusing on my image, so I guess the goal is to look...sexier?”

All of a sudden, Jaskier’s face was smashed into a hard surface, nearly knocking him to the floor. After steadying himself, he realized that the hard surface was actually Geralt’s back, the larger man having stopped suddenly in front of him. Jaskier looked up to find Geralt’s eyes pinning him in place with a shrewd glance. How did the man have so much power over him?

After a long pause, Geralt spoke. “You look fine. Your manager is stupid.” With that, Geralt turned back around and continued walking towards the treadmills. Either the other man was completely unaware that Jaskier was no longer following him, still stuck in one spot gawping at the other man’s words, or he did not care. Truthfully, Jaskier wasn’t sure which option he would bet on.

Shaking off the shock, Jaskier jogged over towards Geralt. “Umm thank you for that, Geralt, but my manager is one of the best in town. He wouldn’t have told me my weight was an issue unless it was.” Even as he said the words, Jaskier felt doubt gnawing at the back of his mind. Nowadays it felt as though Valdo didn’t give a shit about him.

Geralt grunted, pressing a series of buttons on the treadmill’s console that Jaskier knew he had no hope of memorizing. “My brother Eskel is twice your size and the strongest man I know. It’s not the weight, it’s the fitness…”

Geralt paused, giving him a meaningful look. It took a moment to realize that the other man was likely waiting for his name, given that they hadn’t officially introduced themselves. God, he was bad at this flirting thing.

“Jaskier.”

“Jaskier,” he repeated, pointing towards his own name tag. “Geralt.”

“Nice to meet you,” Jaskier said with a smile. One of his lovers had told him that his smile was what she’d first noticed about him. Maybe it would have the same effect now.

Disappointment washed over Jaskier and Geralt just grunted in response, crossing his bulging arms across his chest. “It’s not about the weight, Jaskier, it’s about how fit you are. I can help you create a fitness program if you’d like, but you don’t need to worry about your looks.”

Jaskier blinked, running those words over his head on repeat. Geralt thought he looked good, and if the flush on his cheeks meant anything then Geralt thought he looked very good. Maybe it wasn’t a lost cause. Only way to find out was by following his lead.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“You want to get a personal trainer?” Valdo asked, his eyebrows climbing higher towards his hairline as the conversation went on.

“Yeah. I really bonded with one of the trainers at Morhen’s and I want to hire him for one-on-one work.”

Jaskier held his breath, waiting for Valdo’s opinion on the matter. God knew that Valdo would have an opinion.

A moment passed, both of them staring at one another until Valdo leaned over his desk, his eyes full of understanding.

“You have a thing for this trainer, don’t you?”

Jaskier blushed, saying absolutely nothing. He knew that Valdo had made him promise to stay in the closet for the time being, saying that it would be harder to make it in the industry if he was openly pansexual from the start. It was a lie that he hated, feeling like he was hiding a true part of himself from his fans and the world, but it was only for a little while. Once he made it big, he could tell anyone he damn well pleased.

Valdo sighed and leaned back into his chair, massaging his brow in the same way Jaskier had seen his mother do over the years. “Fine. Hire him. At least that will take care of one problem.”

Jaskier frowned, looking down at his soft gut with a flush on his cheeks. “I promise nothing’s going to happen. I know the deal.”

“You’d better,” Valdo said, “or else I’ll throw you out like yesterday’s leftovers and ruin you. You may have potential, but I won’t waste my time on people who don’t take their career seriously.”

Jaskier clenched his jaw and nodded, doing everything in his power to avoid eye contact with his manager at all costs. It wouldn’t be long now. He just needed to power through and then he’d be free.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Geraaaallltt,” Jaskier whined as he wiped the sweat from his brow. “You already made me do twenty push ups, please don’t make me lift weights too.”

An affronted gasp drew itself from his lips as he watched Geralt smirk at his pain.

“You absolute bastard! Mocking my pain! Here I am, sweaty, disheveled, exhausted, and you just smirk at me. You’re a cruel, cruel man, Geralt!”

“Hmmm. How about we make it another 20 push ups?”

Jaskier groaned, but kneeled on the ground in preparation for the torture that awaited him. “Fine, but only because you’ve forced me to.”

And because Valdo had made another remark about his figure the other day, although he’d kept that information to himself. He’d been working out with Geralt for two months and he had definitely gained some muscle, but he was still too soft to be a sex symbol. At least that was what Valdo had to say on the matter. He would just have to work harder.

Geralt snorted, joining him on the ground in perfect push up position. That was something that Jaskier loved about Geralt. The older man never let him do his workout by himself. Instead, Geralt would go through the exercises with him, only stopping to make small corrections to Jaskier’s posture as they went through the routine. It was nice. Jaskier usually liked being the center of attention when performing, but at the gym he felt more vulnerable; it was nice to have someone who made him feel more comfortable.

And Geralt truly did. Whether it was through non-verbal grunts or a quip, Geralt always made Jaskier feel truly at ease. It had been a long time since he’d truly felt like he could be himself around another person. He hoped the feeling would last.

The rest of their routine passed by quickly, Jaskier lost in his own thoughts of inadequacy and fear. What if he could never be enough? Would it cost him his future? Would Geralt care?

He was drawn out of his spiraling thoughts by a heavy hand clamping down on his shoulder. Jaskier startled, being dragged back to the land of the living and greeted with worried, golden eyes.

“Are you alright?”

Jaskier pasted on a fake smile, hoping that it would be convincing enough. “Yeah, ‘M fine. Just lost in my thoughts for a little bit.”

“Hmmm,” Geralt hummed, his eyes still showing traces of worry. “Well, you did great today. You’ve reached most of your fitness goals. You should be proud.”

Jaskier’s smile became brittle as he looked away. “Right. Thanks, Geralt.”

“I mean it,” Geralt countered, lowering his head so Jaskier would be forced to make eye contact with him. Instead of suffering the indignity of showing his insecurities, Jaskier opted for silence. He’d selected that option more often these days.

Jaskier heard Geralt sigh and felt the warmth of his larger hand slip away. For a moment, Jaskier almost begged for Geralt to touch him again so he could feel that warmth, but he stopped himself. This was a professional relationship, nothing more.

Only that wasn’t strictly true anymore. Geralt had started to invite him out for after-workout smoothies followed by dinner and beers. On days that Geralt had to stay late, Jaskier often stayed with him, writing songs behind the desk as Geralt went about his duties. Hell, Jaskier had even met Geralt’s golden retriever, Roach, and his teenage daughter, Ciri. They were more like friends than anything. The blurring of that line was a dangerous temptation that he tried to ignore on most days. If he didn’t think about it, then maybe it wouldn’t be so hard to ignore his feelings for the older man.

“You should come with me to the fair tonight. Get things off your mind. You’ve been stressed lately.”

Jaskier looked up and found Geralt blushing but still pinning him with a concerned expression. “I thought you were taking Ciri and her girlfriend out.”

Geralt nodded, his eyebrows drawing closer together as though he were thinking through a complicated rhythm section. “Yes, but it would be nice to have company over the age of 16.”

Jaskier laughed. Geralt had a point, and how was he supposed to say no when Geralt looked so hopeful. “Yeah, yeah I’ll come with you. It’ll be fun, but you’d better be ready to go on every ride with me.”

As Jaskier turned away, he caught a glimpse of Geralt’s true smile flashing at him. It was rare that it made an appearance, especially when they were at the gym. Jaskier ignored the fluttering in his stomach that accompanied the soft expression. If he pretended it didn’t exist, then maybe it would stop affecting him so much.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The fair was everything that he’d thought it would be. Jaskier beamed as he took in their surroundings— the crowds of people, the junk food, the dangerous carnival rides. It took him back to when he’d been a kid and his mother would take him to the county fair once every summer. He hadn’t been to one of these in years, but the excitement he felt was just as palpable as it had been nearly a decade ago.

“Dad, Cerys and I want to ride the rollercoaster. Can you hold our stuff?”

Jaskier chuckled as Geralt blanched at the large array of prizes the two girls were holding. The two men had watched in awe as this athletic, red-headed girl won game after game, racking up an impressive amount of prizes to give to her girlfriend. However, now they had the problem that they had too many things to ride the attractions.

Jaskier pushed his way past Geralt and gestured to give him the stuffed animals. “Go, have fun. We’ll be around here.”

“Thanks, Jask!” Ciri exclaimed. Without another word, Ciri grabbed Cerys’ hand and bolted into the crowd.

Jaskier turned around and shoved half of the prizes into Geralt’s arms. “There. That’s better,” Jaskier said, ignoring the grunt of protest from Geralt.

“Jaskier,” Geralt complained. “How are we supposed to eat fried dough with no hands?”

The singer turned around, amused by the pitiful expression on Geralt’s face. How a man so large and fearsome could look like a wounded puppy at the turn of a hat was still a mystery to him. It was just something so inherently Geralt that Jaskier doubted he would ever truly understand.

“That’s your problem, Geralt. I can’t have any fried dough, you know that.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt growled, grabbing the young popstar’s attention. “It’s only one night. Enjoy yourself.”

“Darling, you don’t understand. Valdo—”

“Isn’t your trainer. It’s your cheat day.”

Fuck. Jaskier knew he would regret this later when he was sat in Valdo’s office once again being reamed out for not reaching his goals yet again, but Geralt looked so certain. He wouldn’t want to disappoint him.

“Fine, but I’m splitting it with you. The last thing I need is an entire funnel cake.”

Geralt rolled his eyes, but let the issue drop. Jaskier found them a picnic table that looked like it had seen better days while Geralt bought their treat. It was fucking delicious. God, he had forgotten how tasty fried food was.

“You’ve got something there,” Geralt murmured under his breath, pressing a thumb to the corner of his mouth and brushing away the powdered sugar coating his lips.

Jaskier froze, a gasp leaving his lips at the gentle gesture. He felt Geralt’s hands trembling as the older man removed them from the side of his face. They were silent for a moment, both staring into each other's eyes as though they weren’t surrounded by thousands of people. If Jaskier had questioned Geralt’s feelings before this, then they were clear as daylight now. Geralt liked him too and he’d never felt more elated in his life.

“Jask, I—”

“Dad! Cerys won another teddy bear for me!”

Both men looked up, startled out of their moment by Ciri’s shrill exclamation.

“Fuck,” Geralt murmured under his breath. “Ciri, Cerys, that is too many—”

Jaskier let Geralt’s voice trail on as background noise. Something had shifted, and he’d never been more terrified in his life.

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“What the fuck is this?” Valdo boomed as he slammed a magazine down in front of him.

Jaskier, who had been woken up by an angry phone call from his manager, looked down curiously at the offending paper. He wondered what he could’ve possibly done to piss Valdo off now.

His question was answered as he looked on the page and his blood ran cold. There, clear as day, were he and Geralt, eating funnel cake as Geralt swiped away the powdered sugar from the corner of his mouth. Apparently his hat disguise hadn’t worked as well as he’d thought.

“Val, it’s not what it—”

“It’s not what it looks like? Because to me it looks like you're on a date with this freak, eating something that is most definitely not on your diet. Tell me I’m wrong!”

Jaskier shuddered, feeling a flush rising to his cheeks; he couldn’t tell whether the rising color was from his rage or his embarrassment, but it was certainly there. “You’re wrong. It wasn’t a date, he’s just a friend.”

“Oh, he’s just a friend,” Valdo repeated in a faux calm voice. “Well then my side piece is just a friend when we eye fuck one another from across the room!”

Jaskier looked away as he tried to fight back the tears forming in his eyes. He wouldn’t give Valdo the satisfaction of seeing him cry. “We haven’t done anything wrong! It isn’t like that.” His voice quivered with each word, something he knew Valdo had noticed, but he couldn’t control it. He was just so fucking nervous.

“But you want it to be!” Valdo bellowed, his face crimson as he stared down at Jaskier. “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Valdo spat out, snatching the tabloid from the table. “I’m going to give you two options. You’re going to go on the record and swear that this man is just a friend, nothing more, and then tell him that you will not be seeing him again. Otherwise, I am going to drop you. Are we clear?”

Panicked and scared, Jaskier looked into the eyes of his manager and truly saw him for the first time. He had never truly liked the man, but now he saw him as the devil that he was. He should’ve never signed that contract.

“I said, are we clear?” Valdo repeated, eliciting every word as he encroached on Jaskier’s space.

“Y-Yes, I understand.”

It was as if a switch had flipped as Valdo straightened his tie and smiled down at him. “Good. I’m only trying to protect you, Jaskier. Your career is fragile right now, you understand?”

Jaskier nodded and headed towards the door, hoping that his tears would hold until he made it to the bathroom on the next floor.

As he reached for the door, Valdo said, “And Jaskier?”

He stopped, slightly twisting his ear towards the other man to show that he was paying attention. Valdo didn't deserve the respect of turning to face him.

“Don’t eat fried food again. Your waistline truly can’t handle it and it would be a shame to destroy such a pretty face.”

Jaskier’s shoulders tensed as he nodded and bolted out of the room. He needed to see Geralt. Immediately.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jaskier slid into his usual parking spot and barely waited long enough to park his car before jogging towards the door. As he burst through the entrance, he saw Eskel’s face look up in surprise before his expression turned into concern.

“Jaskier, are you alright?”

“Where’s Geralt? I need to see him.”

Eskel, who had seemed to notice how he’d avoided answering the question posed to him, pointed behind him. “He’s on his break in the office. Is this about—?”

Before Eskel could finish his question, Jaskier scanned into the gym and pushed his way through the door.

The room itself was white, undecorated, and dull; very similar to any staff room in any business. The only thing that made this room extraordinary was the silver-haired man staring at him with shock in his eyes.

Jaskier walked towards him and noted that the tabloid magazine was sitting in front of him. Fuck, he’d hoped that he would be the one to break the news to Geralt, but it seemed that someone had beaten him to it. With that in mind, Jaskier took a seat at the table across from Geralt.

“Jaskier, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know—”

Geralt fell silent when Jaskier lifted up a hand. “You did nothing wrong, but we need to talk. Just— please hear me out, okay?”

The tension in the room grew, but Geralt nodded his head, giving Jaskier the go ahead to say his piece. If only he knew what he was going to say.

Best to start at the beginning. “Valdo called me into his office this morning. Gave me an ultimatum. I have to either tell the press that you are just a friend and never see you again or he’s going to drop me from his label.”

Jaskier heard Geralt gasp but couldn’t see his reaction. Instead he focused on his hands. They were easier to look at than Geralt’s handsome features.

“He can’t do that! You must have a contract—”

“Which he will consider breached if I come out to the public like that. It was one of his terms for taking me on. H— He said that it was just temporary, but now I’m not so sure.”

There was a long pause before Geralt’s voice rasped out, “I understand.”

Jaskier looked up, finding Geralt’s face shuttered off from all emotion. It was like the last few months hadn’t happened. Like he was just another stranger that had walked into the gym, and he hated it more than he could describe.

“I don’t want to do this, Geralt. It’s why I’m here. I— I needed to tell you that—” Jaskier paused, taking in a deep breath. This was it. There was no going back now, no matter how terrified he was. “I don’t want to be your friend.”

Jaskier watched as Geralt flinched at the words, grabbing his hand before he bolted.

“I don’t want to be your friend. I want to be more. I want to wake up with you and help you get Ciri to school in the mornings. I want to be there when you’re grouchy and cantankerous like the old man you think you are. I’ve thought of no one else but you since the day I walked into this fucking gym. Hell, even all the music I’ve written these past few months is about you!

“So the paps were right,” he stated through tears that had started to roll down his face mere seconds before. “You aren’t my friend, Geralt. You’re my everything.”

Jaskier looked up to find Geralt’s poleaxed expression fixed on him.

He snorted, rubbing his thumb along the back of his hand. “I’m sorry that I’m telling you all this. It must be awkward, but I had to tell you that you mean the world to me, Geralt, and that I’m sorry that I’m such a fuck-up. If I could’ve just kept pretending—”

He was cut off by a pair of lips pressing against his own. They were a little dry, but they moved against his own with such fervor that he nearly fell off of his seat. As they pulled apart, Jaskier gasped for air and met Geralt’s slightly crazed gaze.

“I don’t want to pretend anymore. I want you.”

Jaskier felt his lip trembling as he held back the sobs threatening to rip out of his throat. “And here I thought you weren’t good with words?” he replied, trying to mask his fragility with humor. He knew that Geralt would see through the facade — he always did — but he wasn’t ready to let it go just yet.

“Hmmm,” Geralt hummed, wiping away his tears with a gentle swipe of his thumb. “I’ll try to be for you.”

With those words, Jaskier slumped into Geralt’s embrace, clutching at him for purchase and some semblance of calm. They sat there for seconds, minutes, hours — Jaskier couldn’t tell — but when they eventually dragged themselves apart they were both sitting on the cold floor.

“You’re so beautiful,” Geralt murmured, eyes glued to the side of his face.

Jaskier laughed, a hysterical edge tinting it as he climbed onto Geralt’s lap. “I look a mess! I’m an ugly crier.”

“Still prettier than most people I know,” Geralt responded, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose.

Jaskier choked out a laugh, allowing his head to rest on Geralt’s broad shoulder. “Geralt, this doesn’t change reality. My career—”

“Let me worry about that, Jas. I’ve got a plan.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You can’t fire me! I have a contract with this client!”

Jaskier watched in awe as Yennefer Vengerberg glared at Valdo Marx, the man who had made his life a living hell for the past few months, probably longer if he looked back on his first years of fame without the rose-colored glasses. This woman was going to be his new best friend.

“Actually, your contract is null and void for several reasons, most prominently the fact that Mr. Pankratz was coerced into signing this document.”

Valdo snarled, but Jaskier noticed the corners of his eyes tightening. He was scared. Good, he should be.

“Jaskier signed that contract of his own volition!”

“You threatened him with blackmail and ruin if he didn’t sign on to your label, and if that doesn’t hold in court, we can come at you with the multiple statements from your ex-clients that outline instances of harassment throughout the years. Not a good look, I have to say, Mr. Marx.”

Valdo paled and turned towards Jaskier. “Do you know what will happen if you leave? No one else in town will want to represent a gay, chubby little—”

“That’s quite enough, Mr. Marx, or would you like to add more fuel to the fire?”

With that Valdo clicked his mouth shut, turning back towards Yennefer. “What do you want?”

A razor sharp smile spread across her beautiful face, leaving Jaskier both horrified and strangely turned on, something he would never be telling Geralt about his ex-wife. “Glad you ask. My client wishes to be released from your binding contract with rights to all of his songs.”

“That’s ludicrous!”

“That’s show business, Mr. Marx.”

As Jaskier watched the two bicker over the details, he mulled over what he would do once this was over. First, he would have to head over to Triss’ office and talk over the finer details of his new contract. He wouldn’t sign it today, his previous experiences making him more cautious when signing anything, but that was okay. It was almost over and then things would be better.

Speaking of better, he saw Yennefer signalling to him that they were leaving. He grabbed his coat and turned around to spare Valdo Marx one last glance. Jaskier was pleased to see the man pale and unsteady behind his desk.

“Goodbye, Valdo. I hope you figure your shit out, I truly do.”

Without another word, he slipped out the office door and walked down the hall where he found Geralt pacing a furrow into the carpet. Upon noticing their presence, Geralt left his well-tread track and walked over to greet him with a hug.

Jaskier stayed in Geralt’s embrace for as long as he could, savoring the feel of strong arms keeping him safe when he felt bereft. Everything was changing so suddenly — for the best, admittedly, but it still felt nice to have Geralt as a safe port during the storm.

“How did it go? Was everything okay? Did he say anything?”

“Darling, darling, you have to give us a moment to answer the questions,” Jaskier responded, a smile playing on his lips.

“Yes, darling, let us answer,” Yen quipped drily. The two men looked up to find her examining her flawless manicure, completely ignoring the affectionate snuggling happening mere feet from her. “There are still a few details to work out, but Jaskier is no longer in that ridiculous contract. Now if you excuse me, I have a date with my wife.”

They watched as Yennefer strutted out of the office with purpose. She stopped, turned around, and pointed an accusatory finger at the two of them. “If you show up at Triss’ office before 3, I will stop representing you in court.”

Jaskier laughed, knowing the threat was baseless, but nodded. “Alright, Yenna. I’ll see you both after 3.”

Yen nodded with a pleased smirk on her face and walked out the door, leaving both lovers alone once again.

“I heard what he said to you from down the hall,” Geralt murmured into Jaskier’s hair.

The singer stiffened, remembering all the times that Valdo had spoken ill of him, bullying him about his fashion sense or his appearance. He hated that Geralt had heard those things. Maybe the older man would agree now that they’d been brought to his attention. Maybe—

His spiraling thoughts came to a grinding halt as Geralt pressed a kiss to the corner of his right eye. “He’s full of shit. People are going to love you, Jask. You’re perfect.”

Jaskier stiffened, avoiding Geralt’s face. “You really think so?” he asked, going through the long catalogue of his imperfections.

A familiar hand ran through his hair, brushing away his insecurities with a single touch. “I don’t think so. I know.”

Jaskier smiled, taking in how confident Geralt was in that moment, basking in the brilliance of his lover. He was right. Valdo was full of shit and gone from his life. Things were looking up.

It was over, but something better was beginning and he couldn’t wait for this new adventure to start.

Let me know if you want on or off my list!

Tag List: @comfyswitcherblanketfort, @kuripon, @dapandapod, @officerjennie, @jaskierswolf, @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde, @bi-aragorn, @fontegagrilledcheese, @alllthequeenshorses, @stonedstargazer666

#strangers to friends to lovers #jaskier #the witcher #witcher fanfiction #geralt x jaskier #geralt #geraskier #soft geraskier #geraskier fanfic #fat shaming #body image #popstar au #modern au #hurt and comfort #fluff #mild internalized fatphobia #homophobia #singer jaskier #personal trainer Geralt #lindawrites

[professorjaskier]

Whumptober Prompt 1/4

Hi y'all! Happy Hallowmonth! To celebrate my favorite time of year, I will be participating in the @thewitcherbog's Whumptober event! Keep posted for future fics during this spooky time! Hope you enjoy!

Prompt: "I thought you were dead!"

WC: 1.2K

Rating: Teen for Death and Blood mentions

Pairing: None, but Geraskier if you squint

Beta Read: @comfyswitcherblanketfort

Tags: Thought to be Major Character Death, Mentions of Blood, Cannon Typical Violence

Next Parts: 1, 2, 3, 4

A03 link here

Jaskier slumped over the table, placing his forehead on the sticky surface. He was gone. He’d have to accept it sooner or later.

The bard blinked away the tears stinging the corner of his eye, focusing what was left of his energy on holding back the flood of emotion. He’d spent the past day crying, the last thing he wanted was to start sobbing uncontrollably again. Taking a deep breath, he let Geralt’s words rush over him.

“Breath in and out. Try to focus on a single thing.”

Geralt had tried to teach him the art of meditation many times over the decades, but it had never stuck. Maybe it would now that he was gone.

Gone.

He couldn’t be…

Jaskier scowled and lifted his hand above his head, signalling another round to the young lady serving his table. Beer was a faster solution to his problem than meditation. At least the alcohol would make it easier to forget the look on Geralt’s face as he’d been thrown from the cliff. The shock in his eyes as the griffin retracted its sharp talons and left him falling into nothingness.

The beast had flown off, completely unaware of how it had completely destroyed Jaskier’s world with one simple act. He’d looked over the cliff, seen the roaring river and the sharp rocks far below and knew no one could survive that fall. Not even a witcher. With a heaviness he’d never felt before, he’d collected Roach and headed back to the inn. There hadn’t been anything else to collect.

As his server deposited another mug of ale onto the table he felt the tears he’d been fighting burst onto his face. With a nod of gratitude he took the ale and gulped at its contents.

He’d have to make arrangements. He’d have to tell Geralt’s family. Jaskier knew that Geralt went —had gone, he internally corrected himself— to winter with a few other witchers, but he didn’t know much more than that. He’d have to start searching for mentions of other witchers and hope—

His train of thought was disrupted as the door to the tavern burst open, causing everyone in the establishment to look up. Jaskier blinked, thinking that he’d finally fallen into madness, because this couldn’t be real. In the door stood Geralt. He was filthy, soaked to the bone, and looked exhausted, but it was without a doubt Geralt.

Jaskier unsteadily pushed himself to his feet and walked over towards the illusion. He couldn’t be here. He was gone. Gold eyes snapped towards him, watching as he walked towards the witcher as though in a trance. Those same eyes continued to follow his movements as he reached out to touch the familiar armor. Only when his hand landed on a solid form did he allow himself to believe the impossible. Geralt was alive.

“I thought you were dead,” Jaskier choked out, tears threatening to spill onto his cheeks once more.

Geralt’s eyes widened. “No. Passed out for a while. Possible concussion, but not dead.” He paused and looked over Jaskier’s form. “You weren’t there when I got back.”

Jaskier felt his lip trembling, but was cognizant of all the attention their reunion was gathering. They needed a bit more privacy. With a nod of his head, he gestured back to his table in the corner. A small part of him realized as he walked over that he’d chosen the table that Geralt would’ve chosen. That same part of him knew it wasn’t a coincidence.

Jaskier watched the witcher sit down, noting that he’d flinched with the small motion. “You’re hurt.”

“I fell off a cliff.”

Jaskier snorted and shook his head as he took a moment to look him over. Geralt was still damp, his silver hair clumped into small ropes as they tried to dry off. There were no visible wounds except bruises and a few cosmetic scratches that would heal within the day. Whatever was bothering Geralt lay underneath his armor. As much as he wished to tear those protective layers off, Jaskier knew he would have to wait until they got to their room.

Jaskier tore his gaze off Geralt to grab the waitresses attention. After ordering two helpings of supper, he turned back to Geralt.

“You’re drunk,” Geralt said, face still frozen in a neutral expression.

Jaskier snorted and wiped away a stray tear. “I thought I’d just watched you die, Geralt, I needed a little bit of assistance trying to erase that image from my mind.”

“I’ve survived worse, Jaskier.”

“You fell off a cliff!” he exclaimed, eyes wide with exasperation. Of course Geralt would consider a tumble off a cliff to be nothing.

“There was water below, I was fine!”

Jaskier took that moment to poke Geralt in the side and felt a small sense of victory when the witcher grimaced.

“Fine people don’t flinch in pain when they get lightly jabbed in the side!”

“‘Lightly jabbed’ is an oxymoron.”

If Jaskier weren’t so agitated by nonchalant demeanor, he would’ve been impressed by Geralt’s use of words. Maybe he did listen while he prattled on about grammar and turns of language.

“Geralt, that was a bad fall, even for you—”

“I know!” Geralt gritted out, getting dangerously close to shouting. After nervously glancing around the room, Geralt leaned closer. Close enough that Jaskier could hear Geralt’s breathing, something he’d never thought he’d hear again.

“I know,” he repeated softly. “When I came back to fight the Griffin you weren’t there. I couldn’t find Roach. I thought—”

Jaskier watched as Geralt’s face contorted into the most pained expression he’d seen on the witcher. Without a second thought, Jaskier took the larger hand in his own and rubbed his thumb along the rough calluses of Geralt’s palm. The small motion worked, Jaskier watching as the furrows in Geralt’s face smoothed with each pass of his thumb.

“I thought the griffin had killed you both. I thought I was too late.”

A gasp escaped his lips, imagining the terror Geralt had felt at that moment. “Geralt, I’m so sorry—”

“You did nothing wrong. You were right to leave the area, it was too dangerous.” Even as the words left his mouth, Jaskier could see that Geralt was simultaneously trying to convince himself of the same thing.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” Jaskier murmured.

“I can say the same,” Geralt responded.

There was a moment of silence that was only broken by their meals being brought to the table. After thanking their waitress, Jaskier turned towards Geralt who was staring at his stew as though it held all the answers in the world.

“How did you know I wasn’t dead?”

“No blood trail. If it had gotten you there would’ve been a body.” Jaskier saw the slight shudder that ran through Geralt’s body at the words. It was slight, but it was there. “I followed your scent back to town. By then I assumed you were both okay.”

Jaskier nodded, picking off bits of bread and putting them into the stew. It was easier to focus on that than the terrifying day they’d both had. “I’ll stay next time.”

“No! Like I said, you did the right thing.”

Jaskier nodded and took a bite of stew, mulling over Geralt’s words. Odds were that this would happen again. They both led dangerous lives, but the thought of this happening again turned the stew in his mouth sour.

Geralt squeezed his hand, once again grabbing his attention. He hadn’t realized he’d still been holding Geralt’s hand. He wished they did things like this more often, but he couldn’t tell the witcher that. It would ruin everything.

“...I’m glad you’re okay.”

Jaskier smiled at the simple words and truly smiled for the first time since he’d thought his world had ended.

“I’m glad you’re okay too.”

I hope you enjoyed it! Let me know if you want to be added to my tag list!

Tag List: @comfyswitcherblanketfort @kuripon @dapandapod @officerjennie @thewitcherbog @jaskierswolf @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde @bi-aragorn @fontegagrilledcheese @alllthequeenshorses

#the witcher #witcher fanfiction #jaskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier x geralt #geraskier #jaskier whump #geralt of rivia whump #whump #perceived major characer death #but everyone is okay #whumptober #LindaWrites

[professorjaskier]

Geraskier Meet-Cute Fic

Hi everyone! This is for my wife Cheese's 24 hour Flash Fic Challenge. The fic is based off this post. Thanks @deeplywornletters for betaing! I hope you enjoy!

Summary: Jaskier realizes one day that he's been dating his best friend Geralt without realizing. Should he tell him?

Tags: Body image and self-esteem issues (but there is comfort and praise), modern AU during COVID times

A03 link here

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How hadn’t he noticed?

That simple question circled through Jaskier’s mind as he paced around his small apartment. It was so blindingly obvious thinking back on it. How hadn’t he noticed that he was dating his best friend?

Jaskier dragged a hand down his face and sat himself in front of his laptop for the fifth time in ten minutes. The screen still showed his half formulated Reddit post for advice, but the more he thought on it the more he came to realize that no one could help this level of stupidity.

The cursor continued to blink on the screen, seemingly mocking his obliviousness. He was a poet for fuckssake! Romance was supposed to be his thing!

Well, he was sure that Priscilla would say differently.

Priscilla. What an utter prick. This all started with her.

They’d been together since the start of college. Nearly five years together. Everyone, Jaskier included, had thought that they would get married, which had made finding Priscilla in their bed getting fucked by another man quite the shock. There had been cruel words thrown out by both parties and splitting up of furniture, and suddenly Jaskier had felt the need to escape.

He’d moved. Not just out of the apartment, but out of the state. New city, new him. At least that had been the plan before a fucking pandemic shut down the world. It was hard to find work as a musician and actor when all the theaters and bars were closed until further notice.

The first month he’d just sat on his couch eating chips and panicking over the unknown. Things were terrifying and watching the news just made things worse. It had stayed that way until the second month when he found an online tutoring program that would help to pay the bills. But the third month was the most important. That was when he met Geralt.

It had been an ordinary day. He’d just finished his zoom classes and was preparing to get his anxiety medicine from the pharmacy. For a moment he had considered putting on something other than his sweats, but then he remembered he had nothing else. After a few months of that combined with a post-break up slump, he found that none of his jeans fit anymore. With a shrug, he put on his jacket, grabbed a mask, and headed out the door.

They’d met that day on the line for the pharmacy. Geralt was quiet, the shy type, and built in a way Jaskier had never been, even before his break up. They soon found out that they worked for the same service, Jaskier specializing in music and Geralt in chemistry. Jaskier had left the line feeling that he’d finally made a new friend.

Soon after they had started to text everyday, eating lunch at one another’s place. It was nice to have someone to lean on, especially in this brand new place. Normally, Jaskier would’ve made friends with people in the area, but between the social isolation and the lingering pain of Priscilla’s betrayal he hadn’t been trying. Geralt had been kind enough to introduce him to his own friends. Although they were an odd group, they were welcoming and Jaskier had felt happy for the first time in nearly a year. With Geralt it was easy. They just understood one another. Being in his presence was never stressful or overwhelming. The older man was more like a balm on his soul, something he hadn’t known he needed until he had it.

All that said, it wasn’t until yesterday that he’d realized that he’d been dating him. He’d received a text from Geralt a few days earlier asking if they could do a dinner with just the two of them. He’d replied of course! It wasn’t unusual for them to dine by themselves, given the pandemic and that they were the only two of their friends that were single.

Then they’d gone out to dinner. Jaskier had put on his nicest pair of jeans, something Yennefer had insisted he buy because she wouldn’t be seen in public with a man wearing sweatpants. He felt he’d need them because Geralt was taking them to a nice place out of town. He’d taken a look in the mirror and thanked God that he wasn’t trying to impress anyone because he knew that he’d looked better. Priscilla had used to tell him how handsome he was. Maybe she had been right to get out while she could.

Then Geralt had insisted on driving, paying, and walking him to his door.

He’d cleared his throat and said, "I had a good time tonight.”

That had been strange, but honestly he’d just been glad that Geralt had been opening up. The man was seriously emotionally constipated. To be fair, he had no room to judge, not after how unaware he’d been of the situation.

Now he was sat at his computer, halfway to a panic attack because he was dating his best friend. Not only were they dating, but he actually liked Geralt. Liked-liked Geralt. He hadn’t felt this way about someone since Priscilla.

He’d never questioned his sexuality before this. He’d grown up in a pretty conservative part of Long Island with rich, conservative parents who never brought up the subject. Not that they were bigoted. Oh they were fine with people loving whoever they loved… that just didn’t extend to their son. Perhaps it did, but it was never something that they’d discussed. He hadn’t known it was something he needed to think about, because he had met Priscilla the first week of university and hadn’t thought of anyone else until she cheated on him.

Looking back it was obvious that he was in love with Geralt. Had been from the moment he’d clapped eyes on the gorgeous bastard. He just hadn’t identified it as romantic love. Instead, he’d chalked up their connection to a strong friendship. How could he have been so blind?

Clearing his mind, he took the next few minutes to type up his thoughts on Reddit and press submit. Maybe other opinions would help him to sort out his situation. He’d only known Geralt for a year. It was too fast for him to fall in love, wasn’t it? Either way, he needed to figure out whether it would be best to tell Geralt the truth. How would he react to knowing that Jaskier hadn’t known they were dating?

Jaskier took a deep breath and waited for the internet to deliberate. Until then he would stress bake some cookies to pass the time.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The internet was shit help. Although his post had gained massive recognition, no one was able to give him advice on how to handle the situation. Most people had wished him luck, but their well-wishes meant nothing if he couldn’t figure out what to do!

Jaskier puttered around his apartment, straightening the throw pillows on his couch as he waited for Geralt to arrive for their traditional Sunday movie night. Now that he knew it was a date he felt more nervous than ever. He’d spent nearly an hour just trying on all the clothes in his wardrobe, even the ones that he knew wouldn’t fit, just to find the right outfit for the night.

He sighed, going back to his bedroom to look at himself in the floor length mirror he’d bought at IKEA. He looked exactly like he knew he would. The same as how he’d looked an hour ago.

With a disappointed frown, he tugged at the edges of his sweater, fiddling with the bottom as if that would magically make him look like he used to. Why would Geralt even want him? He was an anxious disaster on his good days and he wasn’t even nice to look at anymore. Why would an Adonis downgrade for him? Maybe he was imagining it. There was no way that Geralt was actually interested—

He was dragged out of his thoughts by a familiar knock on the door. He was here.

Taking one last look in the mirror, he ran to the door, ran a hand through his hair and turned the knob.

Geralt looked beautiful. Well, he always looked fantastic, the absolute bastard. Even Jaskier had noticed that. He was wearing his signature black skinny jeans and a black henley that clung in all the right places. Fuck, Geralt was so out of his league, but then again he could be wr—

“Hello,” Geralt rumbled with a sweet smile on his face. Without another word he pressed a soft kiss onto Jaskier’s cheek.

Shit, he wasn’t wrong. He wasn’t sure whether he should be jumping in glee or fucking terrified. He’d settle for blushing a light shade of crimson.

Geralt smiled and tilted his head in confusion. “Was that okay? I should’ve asked.”

“No, no, that was lovely. Just took me a bit by surprise is all.”

Geralt squinted his eyes, looking at Jaskier as though he were a puzzle that needed solving, but after a few seconds he smiled again and took Jaskier’s hand in his own. “Sorry, Jas. I’m glad you liked it. Choose the movie?”

Jaskier blinked, still processing the fact that Geralt was holding his hand. He’d never noticed how large Geralt’s hands were before. They nearly enveloped his own in a warmth so comforting he never wanted to let go. He looked back up and found Geralt patiently waiting. Fuck, he’d asked a question, hadn’t he.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Geralt chuckled. “The movie. What did you choose this week?”

“Ah, yes the movie. I was thinking something classic. Pirates?”

That earned a rare smile, although it had been becoming more prevalent in the past few weeks. “I love Pirates. The first one?”

“Of course! It’s the best.”

They soon fell back into the easy territory of snarky conversation that had defined their friendship from the beginning. It felt easy, familiar... safe.

That changed the moment they sat down on the sofa. Instead of their usual carefully maintained distance, Geralt scooted over so his strong thigh was pressed in line with his own and carefully draped a muscled arm around his waist to bring him closer.

Jaskier immediately froze, thinking back to the reflection that had greeted him minutes before. Geralt could feel it. Without making it too obvious, he tried to suck in his stomach. Maybe Geralt hadn’t noticed.

He caught Geralt frowning in the periphery of his vision, but quickly got up to grab the remote to start the film. Upon sitting down he took the opportunity to rearrange their sitting position so Geralt’s hand would rest on his bicep instead.

It worked for a little bit, but Geralt’s hand soon wandered back to its original position. Jaskier once again sucked in his stomach, hoping that he could keep it up for a two hour film. Luckily he didn’t have to.

Only a few minutes into the movie Geralt leaned over and grabbed the remote, pausing the film. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing!”

Geralt scowled. “Obviously something is wrong! You’re tense and barely speaking. You love talking through films even when it drives me crazy.” There was a pause where Jaskier tried to gather his wits, but Geralt sighed and shook his head. “Am I making you nervous? If I am, tell me. We can still just be friends, Jas.”

“What, no! Geralt, it’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

Jaskier took a deep breath, trying to ground himself before diving in. He looked over at Geralt who was silently boring holes into his soul, pleading for an answer. He really hoped this wouldn’t be the end of their friendship.

“Ididntknowweweredating.”

“...What?”

Jaskier got off the couch and started to pace the length of the room as he spoke. “I didn’t know we were dating! I know it’ stupid, but I had absolutely no idea that we were seeing each other romantically! It wasn’t until yesterday that I realized you had been taking me on dates for the past few weeks, and I’m so sorry. I didn’t even know I was attracted to men until a few days ago, but I am, and I want you so fucking badly, but why would you want me? I’ve never been in a relationship with a man and my last one ended with the woman I was with for five years cheating on me, not to mention that I look terrible! I’m not even remotely attractive, I’m having a sexual awakening about a decade too late and now you’re going to leave—”

“Woah, woah, woah, Jas, calm down!”

Jaskier looked up and found Geralt standing in front of him with his eyebrows furrowed in concern. Shit, he’d ruined it. Of course he had, wasn’t that what he was best at. No one ever stayed too long.

“Come sit down at the island and I’ll make you some tea. While I make you tea, I’m going to try and understand what you meant, okay?”

“Okay,” Jaskier sniffled, allowing Geralt to shepherd him towards the kitchen seating. Once Geralt settled him in, the older man started rummaging through his cupboards, knowing exactly where to find everything. It was like he was meant to be there.

“Now,” Geralt said after finding all of the ingredients, “I am going to ask for some clarifications. I’m not great with words, so you’ll need to help me, okay?”

Jaskier nodded, waiting for Geralt to realize what a terrible person he was.

“Great. So you didn’t know we were dating?”

Jaskier’s lips trembled, trying to keep back the tears that were pricking the corner of eye. This was going to be hard.

“Y-Yes.”

There was a brief pause before Geralt burst into laughter. Jaskier blinked, alarmed at the response. He’d expected anger, hurt, maybe even shouting, but never laughter.

Geralt stood up again, the smile still on his face as he tried to speak. “S-Sorry, Jas. It’s just that I only asked you out because everyone told me you’d been flirting with me for months. I wouldn’t have worked up the courage otherwise.”

…Oh. That was interesting. Jaskier took a moment to think back on his friendship with Geralt and realized that their friends were right. He’d been unintentionally flirting with Geralt from day one. He was a natural flirt, but deep down he must’ve already known that he’d been attracted to the older man.

“I-I’m sorry, Geralt. I didn’t realize—”

“It’s alright, especially because the second clarification is that you do like me too?”

Jaskier paused but nodded. “Yes, yes I do. I like you a lot.”

He looked up shyly and found Geralt looking at him with a warm look on his face, holding out a cup of tea. Jaskier took it and sipped it gingerly. It was perfect. Of course it was, Geralt knew how he liked his tea. Geralt knew almost everything about him.

“Geralt, I like you so much, but I don’t know how to navigate this. I didn’t even know I was into men! I don’t want to lead you on because—” Jaskier swallowed away his fear, hoping the payoff would be worth it. “—Because you mean too much to me.”

There was silence in the kitchen. Geralt nodded his head and walked over to sit in the stool beside him. “I don’t really know what I’m doing either. I’ve never been in a relationship with a man before; I didn’t even realize I was into men until nearly two years ago.”

Jaskier gasped as Geralt took his free hand and soothed the skin with his thumb. “I’m just as in the dark about this as you are, Jas. I want to learn with you.”

Those words were the last blows to the dam holding back his tears. Before he knew it his face was crumbling and he was surrounded by Geralt’s strong arms. They were the only things keeping him together as he nearly fell apart.

He heard Geralt trying to soothe him and felt a pair of rough hands take his face into them. Looking up, he found Geralt’s face looking at him with warmth and love.

“One last question, Jas, and then we can go back to the couch and finish the movie or just cuddle. Is that alright?”

Jaskier nodded, suddenly too tired for words.

“Alright. Thank you. You said something that I can’t ignore for another moment and I need you to understand something important. You said that you weren’t attractive.”

Jaskier flinched and tried to look away but Geralt held him firmly, not letting him go when all he wanted to do was hide.

“I need you to know that you’re wrong. You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever met, inside and out. I don’t know where that bullshit came from, but I need you to know that you are perfect to me. Do you understand?”

Jaskier felt his lips trembling again, but refused to cry. Not again. “But—”

“No. No buts, Jas. I mean that. You’re beautiful. I love every part of you. I love that you’re always humming or singing or talking. You’re never quiet. You’re kind to everyone you meet and are always ridiculously positive when I can’t be. I’ve never seen you do something mean spirited to anyone. Not even spiders, Jas!” Jaskier chuckled at that, because it was true. He never had the heart to kill insects, even if they were scary.

“You’re also so intelligent. I’ve never met someone who I can talk to about anything. We can talk about Lord of the Rings and then switch to a conversation about global warming. You are so smart and always willing to learn more. And that doesn’t even start to cover your physical assets.”

Jaskier grimaced at that, letting his mind float back to what he’d seen in the mirror earlier, but he was soon pulled out of his thoughts by Geralt’s voice.

“Don’t make that face. I’m not a shallow man, but I have standards and you exceed them. I swear you are so fucking sexy, Jas. It’s been torture sitting on a couch with you for months and not being able to touch you. You look like a sexy lumberjack”

Jaskier snorted, breaking out of Geralt’s hold and crossing his arms around his stomach. He’d let his beard grow out during COVID and after his break up, so the lumberjack part of Geralt’s description wasn’t far off. “Yes, well, wouldn’t you like it better if I were less... doughy.”

Geralt frowned and shook his head. “That doesn’t matter to me, Jas. I like you, no matter the shape or size. Although, I have to say that your ass looks amazing right now.”

Jaskier smirked, feeling a tiny bit better. “Really?”

“Hmmm,” Geralt replied, with a glazed look in his eyes. “I will support you in whatever decisions you make about your body, but I need to make it clear that I think you’re the sexiest person I know. Understand?”

Jaskier frowned, thinking over his words. He wasn’t lying. Over the past year, Jaskier had learned Geralt’s tells and he could undoubtedly say that Geralt was telling the truth.

“I believe you. I don’t understand, but I believe you.”

Geralt took his hand and kissed it gently on the knuckles. “That’s a good start...I’d like to help you understand if you’d let me.”

A smile found its way onto Jaskier’s face as he leaned forward and caught Geralt’s lips in his own. It was a short kiss, not searing and desperate or passionate and deep, but it was absolutely perfect.

As they broke apart, Geralt laughed and scooped Jaskier into his arms, carrying him to the couch.

“Geralt!”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

Jaskier felt calm for the first time in months as Geralt laid him down on the sofa, soon after lying down beside him. They still had a lot to talk about, but that could wait. For now, he was happy where he was and he couldn’t wait to update his Reddit post in the morning.

I hope you enjoyed it! Let me know if you want to be added to my tag list!

Tag List: @comfyswitcherblanketfort @kuripon @dapandapod @officerjennie @thewitcherbog @jaskierswolf @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde @bi-aragorn @fontegagrilledcheese @alllthequeenshorses

#jaskier #geralt of rivia #the witcher #witcher fanfiction #geralt x jaskier #geralt #meet cute #body image issues #they are so in love #Jaskier is a himbo #LindaWrites

[professorjaskier]

A Moment Like This (A Jaskel Fanfic, Part 1/2)

Hi y'all! This is my second submission for the @witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo! Thank you to @kuripon for beta-reading this fic. Stay tuned for some really last minute prompts!

Prompt: Love Before First Sight

Relationships: Jaskier /Eskel and Jaskier & Geralt

Rating: Teen (for sexual innuendos)

Content Warnings: Sexual innuendos, Eskel’s abyssmal self-esteem

Summary: The first time Eskel hears Geralt say Jaskier’s name, he knew it was important. It isn’t until years later that Eskel realizes that he’s fallen in love with a man he’s never met. What happens when they finally meet?

A03 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33591982

Part Two here

The first time he’d heard the bard’s name it was ingrained into his mind. It had been like any other winter’s night at Kaer Morhen. Geralt had arrived at the very last minute, covered head-to-toe in snow but looking hale. Lambert had heckled them both as Vesemir placed a hearty bowl of stew in front of each of them to chase away both the cold and the hunger.

“You’re looking less scrawny than usual, pretty boy. Pick up good jobs on the path?” Lambert asked with a spoonful of stew in his mouth.

Geralt grunted at the question, too focused on the stew in front of him to interact with Lambert’s prickliness, but Eskel was also curious. It was rare for any of them to return from the path in good health. Something must’ve happened.

“Lamb’s right Geralt. You’re looking hale. A good year?”

Geralt rolled his eyes in annoyance, but finally began to speak.

“I picked up something, alright.”

Before he could elaborate, Lambert groaned. “Of course you would be the only witcher to catch a venereal disease.”

Eskel nearly choked as Vesemir snorted into his drink. Geralt gave Lambert the dirtiest look before replying.

“You know that’s impossible, you prick.”

“Always a first, and with your predilection for mages I wouldn’t be surprised if you were cursed with one.”

Eskel was already moving to step between his two brothers at those callous words. “Ignore him. What did you mean, Geralt?”

Geralt sat back down, although his glare never left Lambert’s figure. “A bard. I met a bard and then he wouldn’t leave.”

Vesemir frowned and leaned towards Geralt, his displeasure carved on his face. “What does this bard want?” Geralt shrugged and went back to shoveling stew down his throat. “Dunno. He just kept on following me. Said it was for inspiration.”

“Wait,” Eskel said as the gears in his head began to turn, “I heard a song along the path this year. Quite popular. Something about the White Wolf.”

Lambert perked up at the possibility of blackmail material. “Oh? I haven’t heard of it.”

Eskel grinned, watching as Geralt’s face grew more worried. Oh, his brother was right to be worried. Lambert would never let this go.

“Well come on! What’s it sound like?”

Eskel took a long swig of ale before launching into a hearty rendition of the song that had trailed him along the path throughout the autumn. He had heard it enough times to have it memorized. By the end Geralt’s face was red by witcher standards, Lambert was beaming like a child on their name day, and Vesemir looked chagrined. In other words, nothing out of the ordinary.

He ended the impromptu performance with a flourish, accompanied with applause from Lambert. Geralt grunted, refusing to make eye-contact with anyone at the table.

“Come on, brother! Did you like my performance?”

“That’s not how it happened.”

Eskel snorted and slung his arm around Geralt’s shoulders. “Oh I’m certain it isn’t, but that isn’t the point.”

Geralt finally looked up from his stew, his eyes ablaze with indignation. He might’ve pushed his brother too far, but sometimes his brother needed the push to loosen up. Otherwise, he would explode.

“The point is that this song has made things better for us on the path. Less people turned me away this fall. People tossed coins at me instead of rocks. This song is changing things, Geralt, don’t you see that?”

Silence fell through the hall, the other witchers intently watching the interaction with baited breath. Geralt finally broke the silence with uncharacteristic eloquence.

“They are lies, Eskel. How can anything good be built from lies? Jaskier is a nuisance at best and a liability at worst. He knows nothing of the world and hopefully will not darken my path come spring.”

As his brother spoke, Eskel watched him and knew that the words he spewed were bullshit. Geralt was just a coward who didn’t know how to react when kindness was offered. He just hoped that his brother would come to that realization before it was too late.

Eskel vowed to leave the topic alone for the rest of the winter, but if he perked up any time Geralt mentioned the bard over drinks, it was no one’s business.

As the years passed, Eskel thought of Geralt’s bard more than he cared to admit. Every winter, Geralt returned home and told stories of the enigmatic man that followed his path. Each winter Geralt’s smile would soften when he spoke of his companion and Eskel’s heart would clench. His brother loved the bard and that was okay. He had no reason to feel jealousy over a man he had never met.

But as the years passed, Eskel felt himself falling further in love with Jaskier. Every story Geralt conveyed as they passed around the White Gull made Eskel yearn in a way he’d never thought was possible. With these feelings came even worse doubts.

He’d never met this man, a man clearly devoted to his brother who was a better man than he’d ever be. Geralt was stronger, faster, and far more handsome than him. Geralt was the best of them and Jaskier deserved the best, not a broken, ugly, lump of a witcher.

So he buried his burgeoning feelings as deep as they would go. There was no need to entertain the impossible. The bard would never feel that way about someone like him, especially when compared to Geralt.

His plan had been working for nearly a decade when it all fell apart.

He’d nearly missed the window to make it home. The Killer had been nearly impassable, but as he rounded the last bend in that path, he smiled. He was home.

He made the final push towards the ancient gates, muttering soft promises of oats and rest to Scorpion. He saw a dark figure standing on top of the gateway so he waved. The doors quickly opened, allowing him to hustle inside the courtyard.

Lambert landed directly in front of him, engulfing him in a strong embrace. “Didn’t think you’d make it, ‘Skel.”

“I didn’t either. Got a final contract on the way that set me back a few days.” Lambert grunted in displeasure, an action that warmed Eskel’s heart. “Don’t worry, I’m here now.”

Lambert snorted and pulled away, putting his grouchy demeanor back into place. “I wasn’t worried about you. I was worried I’d have to deal with Geralt and his bard for the rest of the winter.”

Eskel froze. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, Geralt finally brought his bard this year.”

Eskel blinked, processing the unexpected turn of events. Jaskier was here. Jaskier was here! Fuck, he wasn’t ready for this.

Before he could respond, he heard two footsteps behind him. One tread was as familiar as his own, but the other was new. It was lighter and accompanied with the most intoxicating scent he’d ever encountered. A pair of arms turned him around and wrapped him in an embrace.

“Welcome home, ‘Skel.”

Eskel smiled, keeping his focus on Geralt. He knew Geralt. Geralt wasn’t the man of his dreams that he’d silently pined over for a decade. Geralt was safe.

“Hi Wolf. Good to see you.”

Eskel took the opportunity to inspect Geralt’s health. He seemed well-fed and healthy. There was a new scar near his hairline, but other than that, he seemed hale. Not a surprise considering Geralt had come home in one piece ever since he met Jaskier.

Jaskier.

He felt his eyes drift over towards the bard and his heart stopped.

He was beautiful. Over the years, Geralt had let slip tiny details about the bard. The color of his eyes, his handsome features that often got him in trouble, his fastidiously kept hair, but all the daydreams he’d had didn’t do Jaskier justice. He was undoubtedly the most beautiful man he’d ever met and he was currently staring at him with wide, blue eyes.

Geralt turned and smirked as he followed Eskel’s line of sight. “Eskel, this is Jaskier, my travel companion.”

The bard perked up at the sound of his name and stomped through the snow towards them. “Jaskier. I’m pleased to meet you. Geralt has told me a lot about you.”

Melitele, even his voice was lovely. He was screwed.

“I can say the same, although it is hard to get Geralt to talk much about anything."

Eskel ignored Geralt’s grunt of protest in favor of listening to the bard’s melodious laugh. He could listen to it forever.

“Yes, he’s not one for words, is he? Terrible to discuss poetry with him.”

“Eskel reads poetry.” Three heads turn simultaneously to look at Lambert who wore a shit eating grin on his face. “He loves it. Maybe you two should spend some time together.”

He was going to kill him. He didn’t care if Lambert was his brother. Lambert would have to die, because he knew. Somehow the bastard had figured it out and if the gleam in his eye was anything to go by, Lambert was going to be an absolute terror.

“Is that true?” Eskel turned back to find Jaskier looking at him inquisitively.

“Yeah, I like poetry.”

If Jaskier had looked beautiful before he became radiant in that moment. His eyes shone with excitement and the smile transformed his genial demeanor into that of pure joy. Eskel was fucked.

“Then we must discuss the poets of the 10th century! Their use of nature symbolism is superb!”

Eskel smiled as he listened to the bard ramble on about scansion and similes. He would have let him go on, but he noticed a small tremor starting to run through the bard’s body. It was too cold for pretty humans outside.

Eskel placed a hand on Jaskier’s shoulder, momentarily startled by how sturdy the bard felt beneath his fancy clothes, but soon regained his faculties. “I would love to spend time with you, but for now we should get you inside. You’re shivering.”

The bard blinked and stood still. Eskel quickly removed his hand. He’d almost forgotten who he was. He was a witcher. Not only a witcher, but a disfigured one at that. He’d have to be more careful not to spook the pretty bard. Geralt would never forgive him if Jaskier ran screaming at the first opportune moment.

Eskel cleared his throat and awkwardly nodded towards Scorpion. “I need to settle Scorpion for the night, but I’ll be in soon.”

Geralt nodded and patted him on the shoulder. “We will ask Vesemir to set out some stew for you.” Before he could make his escape, Geralt leaned over and whispered, “He likes you. Don’t overthink it.”

Eskel blinked and turned around suspiciously. He looked over at the bard and noticed that Jaskier was bright red and smelled strongly of arousal.

“Aren’t you together?” he quietly asked.

Geralt wrinkled his nose in distaste. “He’s not my type.”

Eskel turned around once more, this time with hope in his heart. If Geralt was telling the truth, maybe he did have a chance. “Are you certain?”

Geralt snorted. “You’re definitely his type, brother.” With a final smirk, he called over his shoulder, “Come on Jaskier, let’s go in.”

Jaskier shivered once more and waved. “I’ll see you inside. Save you a spot for dinner.”

Eskel watched Jaskier’s silhouette disappear into the one place he’d ever called home until the bard disappeared from sight.

A wolf whistle sounded from behind him and Eskel turned around, stunned to still find Lambert standing there. After the events of the last few minutes, he’d truly forgotten that he was still there.

“That was unexpected. You should go for it. He’s pretty.”

Eskel sighed and grabbed Scorpion’s reins. “ Fuck off, Lambert.”

Of course the pest didn’t listen to him, but gleefully followed him into the stables. “What gives, ‘Skel? Why aren’t you jumping on this opportunity? He’s exactly your type!”

Eskel scowled as he untacked Scorpion. She let out a happy snort as the saddle was taken off. Good, at least one of them was happy.

“He’s a bard. A pretty bard at that. Even if he isn’t in a relationship with Geralt, why would he want to be in one with me?”

“Because he thinks you’re hot! Did you not smell his reaction to you? He would’ve let you take him there and then.”

Eskel wrinkled his nose in disgust. “For fuck's sake, have you no dignity?”

“Nope,” Lambert replied cheerfully. At some point he had sat down on a barrel and had begun to swing his legs like a schoolboy. What a prick.

Eskel sighed and went back to focusing on Scorpion. “If I promise to think about it, will you leave me alone?”

“For now,” Lambert said, leaving a sense of foreboding as he left the stables.

Eskel rolled his eyes at his youngest brother’s antics and started to brush Scorpion down. It was true that Jaskier had smelled like desire after their conversation, but there were many reasons for that. He could have been reacting to Geralt or just poetry! Geralt had said the bard loved poetry!

There was just no way that Jaskier could feel the same way... unless—

Well, Jaskier was a strange man, there was no denying that. He followed a witcher along the path for nearly a decade, a long time in human years. He’d dealt with ridicule, dirt, and death during that time. Perhaps he wasn’t giving the bard enough credit.

With a final stroke, Eskel put down the brush and called it a night. Maybe dinner would put things into perspective. He’d already been half in love with the man for a decade. A few more weeks of confusion wouldn’t change anything. It would only give him the opportunity to know Jaskier better.

With his heart feeling lighter than it had in years, he walked towards the keep. He had a bard to woo.

Send me an ask if you want to join my tag list or you have a request for a story <3

Tag List: @comfyswitcherblanketfort @kuripon @dapandapod @officerjennie @thewitcherbog @jaskierswolf @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde @bi-aragorn @fontegagrilledcheese

#the witcher #witcher fanfiction #jaskel #jaskier #eskel #eskel x jaskier #jaskier x eskel #first meetings #falling in love #LindaWrites

[professorjaskier]

Come Back to Sleep (A Geraskier fic)

Hi y'all! This is my final submission for @thewitcherbog's team bingo event. The prompt was come back to bed. Thanks to @sulkyshengshou for beta reading this piece!

A03 link here

Geralt felt the tendrils of consciousness tugging at him as he groaned and rolled over. Without opening his eyes he could already tell that it was too damn early. There was no light to turn the insides of his eyelids orange. Instead, all he could see was pitch black.

With a sigh, he pulled one arm over himself, and tried to locate Jaskier in their bed. His eyes snapped open moments later when he realized that his husband wasn’t there.

Geralt frowned, displeased by the cold bed that greeted him. Jaskier had promised that he would follow him to bed soon after. He looked at the clock on their bedside table; Jaskier had said that four hours earlier.

Geralt braced himself for the cold air, tore off the covers, and set off to find his lover. If he was right —and he usually was about Jaskier’s sleeping habits— then Jaskier would be in his study. He had been muttering about finding the perfect phrase for his newest poem and if Geralt were a betting man, he would wager that Jaskier had lost track of time whilst ensconced in his world of words. It wouldn’t be the first time it had happened.

Just as expected, Geralt saw light flooding into the hallway from Jaskier’s study. With a sigh, he walked towards the room and lightly pushed open the door.

Jaskier looked up, having heard the signature creak of the door that he kept forgetting to fix. His husband was already dressed in his sweats from college and an oversized shirt that had once belonged to Geralt, but he was somehow still awake.

“Geralt, darling, what are you doing up?”

Geralt walked over to Jaskier’s seat and flung his arms around the younger man’s broad shoulders. “I woke up and you weren’t there.”

Jaskier took a hold of his hand, and kissed him on the knuckles before he spoke. “Did you have another nightmare?”

“No, just thought you’d be asleep since it’s three in the morning.”

Jaskier sighed, as he rana hand through his already mussed hair. He looked tired, black smudges had already lined his blue eyes, but he was still beautiful.

“I’m sorry, dearheart. I lost track of time, but I just can’t get this last—”

“Come back to bed.”

Jaskier turned around, a protest ready on his lips, but he stopped when Geralt yawned. His expression of frustration melted into that of affection.

“Fine. Let’s go to sleep.”

Thank fuck. Geralt thought that would have taken more convincing and he honestly didn’t have the energy for it at the moment. Instead, he grabbed Jaskier underneath the knees and shoulders, effectively holding him in a bridal carry.

Jaskier gasped, and flung his arms around Geralt’s neck to stabilize himself. “Geralt!”

He didn’t answer; instead he used the last of his energy to carry his husband to their bed.

“Go the fuck to sleep, Jas.”

Jaskier huffed in amusement. “How romantic.”

Geralt just shook his head, collapsed back into their bed, and pulled Jaskier flush to him. He smiled as Jaskier nuzzled into the crook of his neck, and his breaths quickly evened out into soft snores.

That was better. Things were as they should be.

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[professorjaskier]

Just the Way You Are (A Geraskier Fic)

Hi y'all! This is my second submission for @thewitcherbog's bingo event! The prompt was getting caught in the rain. Thanks to @sulkyshengshou for beta reading. Hope you enjoy!

CW: Sexual innuendos and musical numbers

A03 link here

Geralt grumbled under his breath as yet another taxi passed him by, sending a wave of water splashing onto his previously dry body. He sighed and folded up his umbrella that had proven helpless against the onslaught.

“Fuck.”

“Oh, come on Geralt, let’s just start walking. We’ll make it home faster walking than waiting for a cab at this rate.”

Geralt whipped around, the wet tendrils of his hair slapping against his face. He glared at his husband who stood underneath the theater’s overhang, perfectly dry and put together.

“But your clothes—” Geralt protested, knowing that Jaskier was wearing one of his favorite silk shirts.

“Darling,” Jaskier interrupted, running out from under the roof, frantically gesturing to the umbrella Geralt held in his hand. Geralt frantically fumbled with it, trying to put it up before Jaskier plastered himself to his side. If his clothes got soaked, his husband would be a nightmare. “That’s what umbrellas are for.”

At that moment, a gale of wind swept through the street, turning their umbrella inside out and leaving them to the mercy of the elements.

They were silent for a moment, blinking slowly as the rain soaked through both of their clothes. The silence was broken by peals of laughter. Geralt turned to find his husband bent over, hands on his knees as he laughed hysterically. Something had to be wrong. His husband would never laugh about the destruction of his clothes.

Jaskier stood up, took in Geralt’s wide eyes, and shrugged with a playful smirk on his face. “Well, I guess we’re already wet. Might as well walk.”

Geralt blinked, placing a hand on Jaskier’s forehead. He wasn’t feverish. Something else must be wrong. “But your clothes. They’ll get ruined.”

Jaskier snorted and brushed his wet hair out of his eyes. “Geralt, this shirt is a bit tight anyways. I got it back in college.”

Geralt grumbled, gathering Jaskier into his arms, frowning when he felt Jaskier shivering against him. “I think you look beautiful.”

Geralt felt Jaskier smile against the crook of his neck. “I know you do. Doesn’t make it less true that the shirt is tight.”

He couldn’t argue with that logic. Giving Jaskier one last squeeze, he left one hand on Jaskier’s hip and started leading them in the direction of their apartment. It was too cold for them to stay outside for long. Jaskier was still shivering against him, burrowing closer to Geralt to leech what warmth he could provide.

“That was a nice show,” Geralt said, trying to take his husband’s mind off of the cold surrounding them.

“Y-Yes it was, wasn’t it? I’ve always loved musicals,” Jaskier stuttered, the shivers wracking through his body interrupting the rhythm of his words.

“No. Really?” Geralt glanced over, using all of his strength to keep a straight face. He was rewarded with a light swat on the shoulder for his efforts.

“Yes, really. Honestly, Geralt, you’re so mean to your cold, tired husband. Here I am, shivering, and you mock me!”

Geralt knew his husband was joking about mocking him, the smirk on his handsome face making it even more apparent, but he was being truthful about the cold. Something would have to be done about that. An idea in place, Geralt guided Jaskier under the awning in front of a florist shop, wrapping his arms around his husband’s waist.

“I know a way we can keep warm,” Geralt murmured into Jaskier’s ear, pleased to find a flush working its way onto the brunette’s cheeks.

“Hmmm, so do I.”

Geralt grinned, dipping down to capture Jaskier’s lips with his own. There was nothing he loved more than kissing his husband. Of course the sex was great too, but the simplicity of feeling Jaskier’s mouth move against his own made him feel safe. It felt like home.

Jaskier grinned into the kiss and lightly pushed him away. “I had another idea.”

Geralt blanched. “Jaskier, we are in public—”

Jaskier laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling in delight. “No! We aren’t in college anymore, darling. I was thinking something more like this.”

Suddenly, Jaskier sprinted out into the rain and launched himself onto the nearest lamppost. As he leaned out from the post, one hand keeping him aloft, he began to sing.

I’m singing in the rain

Just singing in the rain

What a glorious feeling

I’m happy again.

“Jaskier, it’s still pouring, you’re just going to get even wetter.”

Geralt watched in fond amusement as his husband ignored him and continued to sing and dance to the classic song, moving down the street towards their apartment with a smile on his face. With a sigh, Geralt moved out from underneath the sanctuary he’d found and followed Jaskier down the street. When he finally caught up with Jaskier, the brunette turned around and smiled.

“Dance with me.”

It was such a simple request, one that Geralt knew he would bend to eventually, but not immediately.

“Come on, Geralt! A review, three words or less.”

Geralt smiled at those familiar words, the one’s Jaskier had spoken to him the night they’d met. Although his love for the younger man had grown since then, he knew Jaskier would understand his grumpiness. He always had.

“Not that song.”

Geralt watched as Jaskier spluttered at the response, offended at the slight against the classic musical. Before Jaskier could go on a rant, Geralt pulled Jaskier flush against him and started to hum their wedding song as they swayed in the empty street.

Geralt felt Jaskier pull himself closer and start to sing the chorus.

I don’t want clever conversation

I never want to work that hard

I just want someone that I can talk to

I want you just the way you are

As the song came to a close, they stayed there swaying together to the beat of the rain hitting the pavement. It might have been cold, but Geralt felt a tiny warmth in the pit of his stomach.

God, he loved this man.

Finally, Jaskier pulled away, still staying in the circle of Geralt’s arms, and quirked his head to the side. “Well, I certainly feel warmer now.”

Geralt hummed in agreement, pressing a kiss to Jaskier’s soaked hair. “Maybe we can head home and try out my idea of keeping warm.”

Jaskier chuckled, grabbing his hand and dragging them towards their apartment, with a twinkle in his blue eyes.

“Darling, I thought you’d never ask.”

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[professorjaskier]

Don't Threaten Me With A Good Time

Hey y'all! @natthemess and @horsedadgeralt heard my idea of Post-Mountain Jask inspired by the song "Don't Threaten Me With a Good Time" by Panic! at the Disco. Thanks for egging me on and thanks to @wherethewordsare for beta reading! Enjoy!

CW: Alcoholism, Drug Use, and Depression (You've been warned), mentions of minor weight loss due to depression

A03 link

A raucous cheer rose up through the bar as Jaskier chugged down his fourth shot and slammed the empty glass on the table.

“Another,” he bellowed, his command met with enthusiastic assent from the crowd and the two beautiful women clinging to each of his arms.

“You’re quite talented, Master Jaskier. Both musically and otherwise,” the young woman to his left purred into his ear. Her name was…Rose? Anya? Possibly Scarlet. What did it matter? She would leave in the morning, just like—

Nope. No, no, no, no, no. He didn’t think about him anymore. He was having fun and forgetting about that fucking—

With a charming smile aimed at Whats-Her-Face, he took the newly poured shot and drained it all in one gulp.

There. That was better.

Placing the glass down on the uneven wood surface, Jaskier felt a hand grab his chin, forcing his gaze to the right. Ah, yes, the other one. Violet? His memory was usually much better than this.

“Would you like to join me in other vices?” she asked, her manicured hands pressing softly against his jaw.

It felt wrong. The hands touching him like that shouldn’t be soft and small. They should have been rough and calloused from a lifetime holding swords and dealing with the filth of the continent; broad and strong from years of manual labor, with nails that were seldom clean, but cut short—

Fuck, not again.

“What did you have in mind?” he asked her, hoping the slight slur to his words would not act as a detractor to her plans. Luckily for him, her smile did not dim in the slightest, the star-struck gleam in her eye as steady as the northern star.

Of course it was. He was Master Jaskier, greatest bard on the continent. Everyone wanted a night with a celebrity, but only a night. He’d make an excellent story for her. Storytelling was his job after all.

She just grinned and tugged him towards the corner table, his other companion trailing closely behind. Sliding after her into the booth, he looked around the room, the alcohol making him feel light and floaty. It was a hell of a feeling, being numb. Nothing quite like it. As he began to ponder whether he could turn the feeling into a song, he heard the young woman call out to him.

“Master Jaskier,” she said, a teasing smile on her lips. “Lost in your thoughts?”

“Yes, quite, I’m afraid. Was composing.” It wasn’t truly a lie. He had been contemplating a possible future composition. To be fair, he hadn’t produced much content since — since the incident, but that was because he was busy having fun. He could compose anytime he wanted to.

He couldn’t be washed up. Not yet.

He heard a charming giggle come from his left, but the woman who had dragged him off just smiled. “Of course. A genius like you must always have something going on in that brilliant brain of yours. Composing about anyone in particular?”

He paused, watching as she teased her pink, luscious lips between her teeth. She was truly beautiful, with her flowing chestnut locks and hazel eyes, but hard as he tried he could not find it in him to wax poetic about her.

All he could think of were strands of moonlight framing eyes of molten gold.

Dammit, it wasn’t working.

He hummed noncommittally and turned his attention to the table. “Ah, so those kinds of vices.”

Fisstech. Lovely, that would give him a bump for the evening. In his younger years, he had partaken in the drug a few times, never one to turn down a fun evening. However, nowadays he found himself craving it’s effects more often than not. Good thing he was famous. He never had to pay for his own drugs or company.

“Oh hell no.”

That voice was familiar. Looking up, he found Priscilla marching towards him like a woman on a mission. If he weren’t so drunk, he would probably be scared.

“Is that your wife?” the girl on his left — Kara? — asked, uncertainty lacing her words.

“Worse, she’s like my sister,” he murmured. “Excuse me, ladies. I’ll be right back,” he said with a dashing smile — well, as dashing as one could be several drinks in — and climbed out of the booth.

“Pris, darling! Come to join the fun? I’ve — Ow! What the fuck?”

Instead of the embrace he’d been expecting, he received a swift slap to the face and a rough tug on the ear as she dragged him outside.

“We are leaving,” she hissed, uncaring of the attention that they had garnered. “You’re lucky it’s just me and not Shani. She would’ve insisted that we do an exam to ensure that you still have a functioning liver!”

“Oh, fuck off, Pris!” he growled, shoving off her hold on his ear. They were now outside of the bar, standing in the cool Autumn evening. How was it Autumn? Had it really been that long since the mountain—

Dammit, not again!

Between his rising frustration and panic, he barely heard Pris’ response. “No, I will not! You have been on a bender for months. You’re lucky the university hasn’t fired you yet with the amount of lectures you’ve missed, not to mention the general ruckus you’ve been making throughout the town. Now, I know that you’ve been going through a tough time—”

“You know nothing about what I’ve been going through—”

“—but you are forty years old and should get a fucking grip—”

“Get a grip?” he parroted back, feeling the effects of the alcohol drip away with those words. “Get a grip?”

Priscilla stopped, eyes wide, looking at him as though he were a madman. Perhaps he was. He hadn’t felt centered since before that damned mountain.

“Jask, I—”

“No, you listen here. You have no idea what I am going through. I have spent the past twenty years trailing after a man who then told me I had caused every bad thing in his life. You’re right, I am forty and fucking pathetic, because I let Geralt push me around for decades and now I don’t know who I am without him!” He idly noticed that his face felt wet and his eyes were stinging again. Fuck, he’d thought he’d done all his crying.

He was supposed to be having fun.

Silence fell between the two of them as the first bitter winds of winter blew through his too thin clothes. They’d grown a bit raggedy during his time at Oxenfurt, but he hadn’t had the energy to get new ones. He’d have to soon; he’d lost weight since leaving Geralt’s side and would need to get his new measurements.

“Jask, we’re just worried about you. This isn’t healthy,” Priscilla said, tentatively moving closer and pressing a hand to his shoulder. “You can’t keep this up. You’ll wake up in a ditch if you wake up at all.”

Jaskier swallowed back the tears and shot his oldest friend a watery smile. “Don’t threaten me with a good time, Pris.”

Although he heard her sharp intake of breath, he kept his eyes pinned to the floor. He knew she was right, but he just couldn’t do this. He couldn’t stop.

“I’ll see you after class, Pris. I’ll be fine,” he muttered under his breath. When she did not respond, Jaskier turned back to the bar and slid through the open door. His reappearance was met with a gentle roar and several empty grins.

That was okay. He was feeling empty too.

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[professorjaskier]

Beauty is Pain

Hi y'all! I went to edit a post and accidentally deleted it, so here we go again! Thanks to @comfyswitcherblanketfort and @thewolfandthefox for beta reading! Enjoy :)

Prompt: Starvation

CW: Eating Disorders and Body Image Issues but with a hopeful ending

A03 Link here

Jaskier grinned as yet another audience applauded yet another great performance. With a final wink at the beautiful woman sitting at the center of the room, he descended from the stage ready for a tasty meal and a refreshing ale. It was hard to be a bard, especially in the city of Oxenfurt.

Quickly making his way to the bar, he ordered one plate of the dinner and an ale. Once the bartender had nodded in acknowledgement, he went to find a seat. There was only a single seat in the corner. It was that or sitting with one of his fans. Jaskier made a beeline towards the secluded seat before another person in the crowded tavern could take his place.

A seat in the corner. Jaskier snorted in amusement as he took a seat. Maybe he had been traveling with Geralt for too long if the witcher's habits had begun to bleed into his own. Funnily enough he couldn’t find it in him to care. They had separated as usual at the end of the fall. Jaskier had noticed the oncoming chill and reluctantly followed Geralt further north to their traditional spot where they left each other during the winter. It had seemed harder that year to leave his companion and Jaskier could’ve sworn that Geralt’s hug had lingered longer than usual, but they had eventually left down different roads on the split path. Now Jaskier was enjoying a winter teaching the brightest new minds at Oxenfurt University and spending his nights performing and warming beds of beautiful maidens and handsome men.

(Well, less of the latter lately, his mind always returning to Geralt at such inopportune moments, but that was normal. Wasn’t it?)

He was dragged out of his thoughts by a familiar, lyrical voice. “Jaskier. Still playing at small taverns?”

Jaskier gritted his teeth and turned towards the source of his burgeoning headache. Valdo Marx, his sworn enemy. If only those damned djinn wishes had been his. Then he wouldn't have the misfortune of seeing the bastard every winter.

(His hatred was completely justified and completely unrelated to finding Valdo cheating on him during their last months of school. He was not over that.)

He looked good. His dark brown hair was still lucious, although a few grays had started to speckle themselves along his temple. His face was still as handsome as the day they had met, the absolute bastard. It was quite unfortunate that such lovely looks were tarnished by the rest of his personality.

“What do you want, Valdo?”

“Oh, nothing,” Valdo replied, gesturing to the bar wench walking past for a drink. “Just wanted to congratulate you on another excellent performance in another mediocre tavern.”

Jaskier scoffed, already scanning the room to find another seat when Valdo’s hand landed heavily on his shoulder. “I’m serious. Why do you bother playing in such small establishments? Your name has become quite famous, even with the simple ditties you write to pander to the masses. Why not try for better? Too scared you aren’t up to the task?”

It took all of Jaskier’s self-control to hold himself back from punching Valdo in the face and breaking his pretty little nose. As satisfying as it would be, he would rather not have his students spreading gossip about two esteemed professors coming to blows in a tavern. Instead, he took a deep breath and calmly replied, “I enjoy what I do, Valdo, and as you have noticed my name has spread far and wide, wider than yours in fact, so why don’t you just fuck off.”

The faux-friendly smile on Valdo’s face slid off his face, suddenly replaced with a scowl. “Fine. I was just trying to help. Doesn’t matter anyways, not as if you’d be welcomed in a court.”

Jaskier knew he was being baited. Valdo knew him too well and knew all of his buttons, but damned if he didn’t want to know what the other bard meant. Hell, not wanted, needed.

“Just what exactly are you implying?”

Valdo snorted and gestured towards his person, as though that would make things clearer. When Jaskier continued to look at him blankly, the other man rolled his eyes in exasperation. “The current trend among the royals is to be lithe and pretty.”

At those harsh words, Jaskier let out a tiny gasp, but Valdo kept going. “Sure, you’re easy on the eyes, but you’ve gotten fat, darling. I mean, you’ve always had a big head. It’s not surprising that the rest finally caught up to you.”

Jaskier felt his eyes burning with unshed tears as he glared at Valdo. “That’s not true.”

“Oh, but it is, Jules.” Jaskier shuddered at the use of his old-nickname, hating the memories it brought rushing forward, but he stayed still and listened to the onslaught of words. “Guess you’re losing your edge. Happens to everyone eventually. I’m just glad I left before it happened.”

Jaskier watched speechless as Valdo got up from the table with a smirk. “Goodbye Jaskier. I hope things start to turn up for you.” Without another word, Valdo disappeared into the crowd.

Time lost meaning after that. Jaskier could've sat there for a few seconds or twenty minutes, but he was yanked back to reality when the waitress placed his ale and stew in front of him. With a grimace, he nodded at the young woman, waited until she walked away and then pushed the bowl away. He wasn’t hungry anymore.

Rising up from the table, he gathered his belongings and left the tavern. Later on he would wonder how he had gotten back to his rooms, but soon enough he was standing in front of the mirror he had purchased years ago from a vendor across town.

He didn’t like what he saw.

Valdo was right. How hadn’t he noticed?

His once slim stomach curved out even though he had forgone dinner for the evening. It wasn’t too large, but there was definitely more there than he remembered, and that didn’t even start on the rest of his body.

How did this happen?

Jaskier started thinking back on his eating habits for the past few months. It had been a difficult year on the path, monsters being few and coin being rare. He and Geralt had spent several nights with limited rations. Although things had been tight to begin with, Jaskier had divided the food so Geralt always had more. He was a witcher. The mutations had given him a faster metabolism and without enough food he could die. Either starvation or a monster would get him if he weren’t alert, and Jaskier had decided that he couldn’t let that happen. Not to his witcher.

When he’d gotten back to Oxenfurt he had been thin. Too thin. It seemed that in the two months that had passed he had created another problem.

Jaskier turned sideways, pinching at the layer of fat spreading over his stomach while worrying at his lip. He’d been so hungry, but he’d obviously gone overboard. What would Geralt think?

Geralt.

The witcher would hate this. Not only would this impede the amount of coin he could coax out of an audience, but Geralt was also proud of his own physical fitness. At this rate, Jaskier would be lucky if he could get out the door come spring. This needed to stop before he was unable to follow Geralt on the path.

Face drawn in determination, Jaskier covered the mirror with a sheet and set off to bed. He would start his new regime in the morning. A few skipped meals, some exercise and he’d be good as new!

-----------------

Roach huffed as Geralt led her through the city gates of Oxenfurt, as displeased to be in the city as Geralt himself. Between the noise and the smell, Geralt found it difficult to keep his head about him in the bustling crowds. He would only step foot in it for two reasons: a contract and Jaskier.

Geralt felt his heart warm at the thought of his bard. It was necessary that they parted during the winter, the trek to Kaer Morhen being too harsh for Jaskier and the city being disagreeable to himself, but this winter apart had been too much. Although he originally had tried his hardest to push Jaskier away, the bard had stayed and become someone that Geralt cared for deeply. Perhaps too deeply if his dreams were anything to go off of.

His need to see Jaskier had compelled him out of Kaer Morhen at the soonest opportunity, pushing through the melting snows with a single-minded goal: find Jaskier. Soon he realized that his plan was not well-thought when he arrived at the inn and found that Jaskier wasn’t there. At first he had assumed that the bard had finally grown tired of him. Geralt wouldn’t blame him after the rough year they’d had before they parted ways. As they had given their traditional hug, Geralt had noted that Jaskier’s slender frame was downright bony. Jaskier deserved to live in a place where he wouldn’t have to worry about food or whether a monster would try to eat him or not. Somewhere safe from the backlash of prejudice against witchers. Somewhere away from him.

After a few hours, Geralt had realized how early in the year it was. Jaskier wasn’t due to meet him in the tavern for at least three more weeks! With a flicker of hope in his chest, Geralt had saddled up Roach and ridden for Oxenfurt.

That had been a week ago and that flame of hope was still flickering. Jaskier would be here. He had to be.

He was dragged out of his thoughts by someone clearing their throat. Fuck. From his experience this could only mean two things: someone wanted to start some shit or it was one of Jaskier’s fanboys. Squaring his shoulders, he turned around and faced the person who had disturbed his journey.

Stood in front of him was a young boy, probably around the age that Jaskier had been when they’d met in Posada nearly two decades earlier. He had thin, blond hair and wore a matching blue doublet and trousers. Based on the lute he carried on his back, Geralt would bet that the boy was training to be a bard. A fanboy then.

“E-Excuse me?” The boy stammered, looking terribly nervous. Honestly, Geralt was surprised that he hadn’t run away in fear yet. “Are you Master Jaskier’s witcher? Geralt of Rivia?”

Geralt sighed, resigning himself to an interrogation of Jaskier’s song material. “Yes, I am.”

The boy’s eyes widened, but not in fear. If Geralt weren’t mistaken, he would say the boy was looking at him with...hope. That was a first.

“Mr. Rivia, sir, are you here to help Master Jaskier?”

With those simple words, Geralt’s body tensed, sensing the dangerous implications surrounding them. “Jaskier needs help?”

The boy looked away, staring at the ground as he played with the hem of his sleeves. He nodded. “I-I think he does. We are all worried about him. He seems...tired. He claims that everything is fine, but he almost fainted in class yesterday and we all think he’s sick!” The boy clasped a hand over his mouth, almost as though he were trying to keep the onslaught of words back, but for once Geralt didn’t want silence. He needed to know what was wrong with Jaskier.

With a slight growl, Geralt tightened his grip on Roach’s reins, noting that her ears were perked up and pointing towards him. She could sense that something was wrong. Sometimes she was better with emotions than he was.

“Where is he?”

“He should be in his office. His office hours go until four.”

“Take me there.”

As the boy led him down the winding streets, Geralt let the increasingly horrifying possibilities rush through his head. Maybe Jaskier was just sick with the flu. Those type of illnesses were terrible for humans, but with proper care something could be done. Or perhaps he had forgotten to sleep again! There were times when the bard got so caught up with writing his songs that he forgot to sleep. Maybe he had just been hungover.

Or.

Or maybe it was something serious. Geralt hadn’t laid eyes on his bard for nearly four months. A lot could happen in four months, especially to a fragile human. He shouldn’t have left. He shouldn’t have left Jaskier at that crossroads.

The boy pointed up to a stairwell. “His office is up there. Please help him. He’s the best teacher I’ve ever had.”

Geralt looked down at the youth, his large doe eyes pinned to him with hope and trust. Even more reason for Geralt to get to the bottom of this.

He reached into his pouch and took out a few coins. “Take Roach to the university stables. Tell them that Master Jaskier has asked for her to be stabled there.”

Without another word, Geralt turned and made his way up the stairs. He had a bard to find.

Any hope Geralt had that the youth had been exaggerating was gone the moment he opened the door.

The man who sat in front of him was barely recognizable as the bard he traveled with. He was pale, taking on the chalky complexion that Geralt’s skin took when taking his potions. His normally meticulously styled hair was lank and had lost its shine right along with his eyes. He seemed...duller.

“Geralt!” Jaskier exclaimed upon his entrance. “You’re nearly a month early, what are you doing here?”

As Jaskier rose from behind his desk, Geralt’s fear grew. His bard was skeletal. He’d thought Jaskier was thin when they’d parted ways for the winter, but this was worse. It looked as though the other man hadn’t eaten in weeks and Geralt’s heart sank.

All the while, Jaskier hadn’t seemed to notice Geralt’s panic, instead catapulting himself into his arms. Geralt swallowed as he felt how frail his friend felt beneath his clothes. This was worse than he’d thought.

“Jaskier,” Geralt whispered, gently pushing the bard away from him. “What happened?”

Jaskier frowned, his confusion palpable as he wrinkled his nose. “Whatever do you mean, Geralt?”

Geralt took one delicate wrist in his hand and rubbed his thumb along the translucent skin. “You’re far too thin. What’s wrong? Are you sick?”

There was a moment of silence where Jaskier looked at him in shock, but that expression was soon replaced with hurt. The bard yanked away his arm and Geralt was shocked at how little strength Jaskier had used. Maybe that was all the strength he still possessed.

“Don’t mock me, Geralt. I never thought you’d be this cruel.”

Geralt watched in mounting confusion as the bard turned his back on him, walking back towards his desk. “I wasn’t. You look ill, Jaskier.”

The bard scoffed, shaking his head as he lowered himself back into his seat. “I know I look awful, but to be fair I thought I had a few more weeks to make myself more presentable.” Geralt gawped at Jaskier’s words, but before he could chime in, Jaskier started to ramble.

“I know, I know, you don’t have to say anything. Trust me, I’ve heard enough about my figure as of late and I’m well aware of the problem and making strides to fix it. Just a few more weeks and I’ll be good as new. The diet isn’t working as well as I’d hoped, but—”

“Jaskier, stop!”

The bard fell silent instantly, his jaw clicking shut as his wide eyes stared at him.

Geralt took a moment to organize his thoughts, but even with time he knew that Jaskier’s words wouldn’t make sense. He had to be missing something.

“Jaskier,” he said softly, speaking as though his friend were a spooked horse. “I don’t think you’re seeing yourself properly.” His words brought a scoff to his friend’s lips, but Geralt spoke before Jaskier could start another monologue. “When was the last time you ate?”

Silence.

He watched as Jaskier stood and drew his shoulders back, pulling himself to his full height. Normally, Jaskier could appear somewhat threatening due to his tall stature, but with his emaciated body he seemed more like a scarecrow than a threat.

“I—I don’t know. Recently enough. What does it matter, Geralt? I’m just trying to make sure that I look the part of a bard. Don’t you understand?”

Geralt grit his teeth, fighting back biting words that would only make the situation worse. He knew that his temper often flared at inopportune times, but this was important. Jaskier needed him. “I don’t understand at all. Can you explain?”

Jaskier sighed, collapsing into the chair beneath him as though his previous outburst had sucked what little energy was left. “What is there to explain? Valdo Marx told me what no one else had the guts to say.”

Marx. Jaskier had spoken of the other man a few times, but only recently had Geralt found out that they had once been lovers. It had been a night two years before. Jaskier had had too much to drink and had told Geralt all about his hatred and love for the other bard. If Marx had said something negative, Geralt knew that his friend would internalize it.

“What did he say?”

Geralt watched as Jaskier’s bottom lip started to wobble and his eyes began to redden with unshed tears. This was bad. Very bad.

“H-He said that I was getting fat and that it wouldn’t be too long before no one would want to watch me perform. It’s the f-fashion to be thin nowadays, don’t you know?”

As understanding of the situation began to dawn on him, he watched in horror as Jaskier smiled through the tears that were now streaming freely down his sunken cheeks. “B-But don’t worry! I have it under control. I’m almost there and when I meet my goal I’ll be able to help provide for us as we travel, just in case we have another bad year.”

Geralt moved across the room in two strides, kneeling beside his friend in a way he wouldn’t for a king. Jaskier needed him. Sadly his students had been right. He needed help.

Jaskier’s eyes widened as they roamed over Geralt’s body and Geralt took the opportunity to speak freely. “Jaskier, what Marx said was untrue.”

“But—”

“Let me finish. Words are difficult for me, but give me time.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Jaskier nodded his assent and leaned back into the chair. Geralt noted how the chair’s frame dwarfed his friend, making him appear frailer than before. It was terrifying to see.

“It was untrue. When I left you for the winter you were far too thin. We were on the brink of starvation when we parted ways. The winter is a time for rest, to recuperate our bodies before we walk the path once more come spring. I came here hoping to find you healthy and happy, but the first person I encountered told me that you were sick and that you had fainted in your class yesterday.”

Jaskier opened his mouth to protest, but Geralt pinned him with a glare that had him leaning back in defeat.

“People listen to your songs because they are catchy, not because of how you look.”

That seemed to be the end of the bard’s patience because he rolled his eyes. “Please, Geralt. Being pretty is basically a requirement of being a bard. It does matter.”

“You are pretty,” Geralt blurted out. Shit, he hadn’t meant to say that, and if Jaskier’s expression were anything to go by the bard had not been expecting him to say it. Geralt took a moment to gather his courage, knowing that there was no going back after this, but if it helped Jaskier then it would be worth it.

“You’re beautiful. Always have been. There’s no worries there, Jask, but what you’re doing now isn’t healthy. You look closer to a corpse than yourself. Do you understand?” Jaskier looked confused, repeatedly running his tongue over his lips as he often did when thinking over a perplexing problem. “But I looked in the mirror. I looked horrible, Geralt and I—”

“Do you trust me?”

Jaskier’s eyes shifted back towards him and he nodded slowly. “Of course.”

“So you know I would never lie to you about this?”

He nodded once more.

“Then believe me when I say that you aren’t seeing yourself correctly. You need to eat, Jask.”

A palpable tension rose in the room as Geralt waited for his friend’s answer. The seconds passed as Geralt thought over his words. Had they been good enough? He was no student of language like Jaskier, but this was important. This had to work.

“You really think I’m pretty?”

That wasn’t what he’d expected. He’d expected tears and accusations flying through the air, but not such a simple question.

Geralt nodded. “Always, but I will say I like it better when you are healthy, and this isn’t healthy.”

Suddenly his arms were full of what little there was of Jaskier. Geralt smelt the salt in the air from the tears that were running down Jaskier's face and felt the damp spreading onto his shoulder, but that was fine. As long as Jaskier was okay, Geralt didn’t care about his clothes.

“I-I’m sorry. I don’t believe you, but I know you wouldn’t lie about this.”

“I wouldn’t,” he replied simply.

They stayed in that position for a long time, the sunlight dimming in the sky until it was nearly dark, only breaking apart when Geralt started to feel shivers run through Jaskier’s body. He immediately placed Jaskier back into his chair and found a blanket to place over him.

“Thank you, Geralt. I’ve gotten awfully chilled lately.”

Geralt decided not to mention that it was a side effect of starvation. They could talk about specifics later. For now, they needed to plan for the spring, and Geralt was certain that Jaskier would not like what he had to say.

“Jask, I’ve been thinking. I think it’s best for you to stay here throughout the summer.”

The smile that had found its way back into Jaskier’s face slid off in an instant. “No. No, I can come with you! I can walk, same as always.”

Geralt shook his head sadly. “No you can’t. You nearly fainted teaching a class. The path is far less kind than a classroom, you know that.”

Jaskier stood up slowly, still wrapped in the blanket and walked forward. “But we’ve only just found each other again!”

“I know. That’s why I am going to stay with you.”

A smirk worked its way onto Geralt’s face as he watched Jaskier’s anger morph into confusion. “What? No, you can’t, what about the path?”

“You’re more important to me.”

Jaskier’s face filled with understanding at those five words, as though he had finally solved a puzzle that had been eluding him for some time. Perhaps he had. “I can say the same.”

Geralt smiled. There would be hard days, of that he was sure. This would not be an easy recovery, but Jaskier trusted him and possibly even loved him. The rest would fall into place, of that he was certain.

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[professorjaskier]

The Kindest Thing (Please Don't Leave Me): Chapter 3

Hi y'all! This has been a long time coming, but here is chapter 3 of this series. Thanks to @natthemess for beta reading my story! I hope you enjoy

CW: Jaskier whump and conversation of Jaskier's mortality

Part 1, 2

A03 link in comments

Jaskier groaned as he came to, his head and body aching like he had spent the night reacquainting himself with Oxenfurt’s pub crawl. Though it had been quite awhile since he’d completed the list of bars in its entirety, he wondered what trouble he must’ve gotten into the night before.

As questions ran amok through his mind, Jaskier kept his eyes firmly closed and took stock of himself. His right knee felt as though it were slightly swollen, but that was nothing new. His knees hadn’t been pain free for at least two decades — a small price to pay for walking the path beside his beloved.

Breathing, though — that was something he did not usually have trouble with. However, as he focused on taking a cleansing breath, he felt his ribs protest at the small movement.

Ah, his ribs were broken. Interesting.

All of this was exacerbated by the pounding in his head that even rivaled the horrible headache Jaskier had endured whenever Valdo Marx debuted a new piece.

What had happened last night?

After taking another moment of darkness’ solace, he opened his eyes and immediately regretted it. The light burning brightly through the windows had him hissing in pain and shutting his eyes against the onslaught.

This was one hell of a hangover.

Now prepared for the pain, Jaskier opened his eyes again and took in his surroundings. He was in a small but clean bed in an unfamiliar room. A washbasin sat on a wooden table in the far corner, a ray of sunshine reflecting on its uneven surface — or perhaps it looked wobbly because he wasn’t wearing his spectacles. He hated those damn things.

Swiveling his head to the right, he found Geralt slumped over in a chair, ensconced in a deep sleep. From the dark shadows underneath his eyes, it was evident that his witcher needed the rest, which was unsurprising after a kikimore—

Shit, that was what happened last night!

Suddenly the events leading to his current situation replayed in his head. The argument he’d had with Geralt about staying behind. The two drowners taken care of and then the appearance of an unexpected kikimore. He’d tried to run, but he hadn’t been wearing his damned spectacles, so he had tripped over a root, twisting his already aching knee. And then Geralt had been thrown backwards into a tree!

Suddenly much more awake, Jaskier sat up, hissing at the shooting pain the quick movement brought about. It hurt, but that did not matter. Geralt was injured and it was his fault.

He should’ve stayed at the inn.

Jaskier was torn out of his thoughts by a hand on his shoulder. “You need to lie down, or you’ll puncture a lung. Your ribs are broken”

“I noticed, dearheart,” he groaned and complied. Geralt was awake. Everything would be alright.

A sudden thought struck him and he tried to move once more, frantically looking around the room. Only Geralt’s strong arms kept him in place. “My lute! Where is my lute?”

Geralt grunted. “Your ribs are broken and you’re asking about your lute?”

“I won’t even dignify that question with an answer.”

With a roll of his eyes, Geralt gestured to the corner opposite of the table he’d noticed earlier. In it sat his lute case, which was a bit more battered than he remembered, but altogether whole.

“Oh, thank Melitele! Thank you, darling. You know what she means to me.”

When he received not so much as a grunt in return, Jaskier stared at his husband, taking in his frantic gaze. The longer he took in Geralt’s appearance, the more he realized that more time must have passed than he’d initially thought. Not only was Geralt’s hair tangled and greasy, but his face looked gaunt, shadows pulling at his handsome features. “How long have I been asleep?” Jaskier asked, fearing the answer, but needing to know nonetheless.

“A little over a week,” Geralt replied, expertly avoiding his gaze while he busied himself with fluffing the pillows behind Jaskier’s back. The two men remained silent as Geralt gently moved Jaskier into a seated position. Once he gestured that he was comfortable, Geralt returned to his seat, placing his chin on his hands as he stared at his husband.

They sat in silence, Jaskier waiting for Geralt to say something, but when his husband remained silent, he couldn’t stop the onslaught of words.

“What an adventure, wouldn’t you say? I’ll have to write it down for my next ballad: Bard Saves Witcher! No, that doesn’t have a good ring to it—”

“Jaskier—”

“But you can’t blame me for having a bit of trouble with the rhyming scheme! Seems I had a hit on the head. Luckily for both of us, my head is quite hard, so—” “Jaskier—”

“—everything is fine! Nothing happened, so we can just head on to the next—”

“Jaskier!”

He fell silent as Geralt’s bellow echoed through the small space, filling his heart with dread. He knew what was coming next. It was something he’d been dreading ever since their argument years ago, but he thought he’d have longer.

Geralt looked up, his face made of stone, but his eyes betraying the pain and worry rushing through him. How people could think Witchers had no emotion was beyond Jaskier’s comprehension. Geralt was one of the most deeply feeling individuals he had ever met.

“You almost died, Jaskier.”

The bard sighed, picking at a loose thread coming apart on the blanket covering his legs. “But I’m fine, Geralt. See? I’m alive and breathing and here with you! You saved me, like you always do.”

Jaskier watched as a whole body shudder ran through his husband, wishing desperately that he could walk over and wrap him up in his arms. The best he could do at the moment was to beckon Geralt towards him.

Jaskier’s smile fell as Geralt shook his head. “No, the bed is too small, I’ll hurt you.”

“You could never hurt me, Geralt. Please,” Jaskier pleaded, holding out his hand as an offering.

With a weary sigh, Geralt took his hand and sat beside him on the mattress. “But I did hurt you, Jaskier. I wasn’t fast enough to save you.”

The bard shook his head and placed his arm around Geralt’s shoulder, holding in the hiss of pain that threatened to pass his lips. “Nope. I’m here, alive and well. That’s all that matters.”

A growl floated up to Jaskier’s ear, causing him to frown. He had hoped that he would be able to talk his overprotective husband down, but it was not working. Geralt was far more upset than he’d originally thought.

“Geralt, I’m fine—”

“You’re only alive because of Yennefer! You were dying in my arms and there was nothing I could do to stop it!”

“Yennefer was here? She didn’t happen to leave a bottle of Est Est did she? She owes me one from the last time we met! That was a good year she stole—” “Jask, I’m being serious,” Geralt said, all traces of humor wiped from his face. “You were dying.”

“I know,” he replied, a heavy feeling settling upon the room. As much as Jaskier loved to ignore the inevitable, the unstoppable current of time kept him in its clutches, always dragging him further away from Geralt. It was what had prompted him to try and run away nearly a decade ago, but Geralt’s reassurances had kept him tethered in place. He’d been able to ignore the signs — the back pain, the matching silver hair, his slower pace — since that conversation, but now it was being dredged up once more, and he wasn’t ready.

He felt Geralt move closer to him, drawn towards his warmth, before he spoke the two words that Jaskier had been afraid to hear for decades: “It’s time.”

Jaskier swallowed down his tears, trying desperately to keep his voice even against the onslaught of emotion. “No, not yet. I still have adventures in me—”

“Jaskier you’re nearing seventy—”

“I am only 65, Geralt, you take that back this instant,” Jaskier protested, trying to cross his arms in protest. He soon stopped the motion when his ribs protested, leaving him pouting like a toddler.

“Don’t move like that! Your lungs—”

“I know, I know! Stop changing the subject, Geralt. I’m not leaving you. We discussed this a decade ago and we agreed that we had more time and that I could ride Roach and—” Jaskier stopped, the tears pricking his eyes and desperation thickening his throat, leaving him momentarily speechless. They were supposed to have more time.

“We do have time, Julek,” Geralt whispered as he carded his fingers through thinning, grey hair. “Just not like this.”

Jaskier’s heart stuttered as Geralt’s words pierced it. “Do you mean— I mean I understand if things have changed for you, but we exchanged vows Geralt!”

Geralt’s eyes widened in shock as he vehemently shook his head and said, “No, no, not like that! I mean not on the path. I will always want you, Julek. You’re my husband.”

A sigh of relief escaped Jaskier’s lips as his body slumped into the pile of pillows keeping him upright. “Don’t you dare do that again, Geralt of Rivia. You nearly gave me a heart attack!”

Geralt hummed and leaned his head gingerly upon his shoulder. Good. Jaskier would put up with a little discomfort as long as his witcher was close by.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Geralt said after a long, companionable silence, “I only meant that you deserve to be safe and comfortable, Jaskier. The path isn’t made for comfort. It’s dangerous and rough. You deserve something better. Something soft.” Geralt pressed a soft kiss to his neck, as if to demonstrate what the witcher meant by soft.

Oh, he could see it now. A small house, perhaps in Oxenfurt or maybe by the coast. Although he loved the coast, Oxenfurt would be a more rational option. In a tiny cottage, he would eventually grow bored with nothing left to do. In Oxenfurt, he could teach classes and help to meld the bright young minds of tomorrow. In the city, there were plenty of exciting new things happening with each sunrise. It would also keep him closer to Novigrad and better equipped to keep a better eye on the Rosemary and Thyme.

“Would you stay with me?” Jaskier asked, leaning his head against Geralt’s, their hair blending in as it pressed together. Although he knew the answer, he wanted to hear it from Geralt.

The witcher paused, considering his words before he spoke. “Witchers don’t retire, Jask. You know that.”

Jaskier nodded and turned his head slightly so he could look at his lover. “It wouldn’t be a retirement, love. Just a break.”

At Geralt’s grunt of protest, Jaskier continued. “Darling, listen. You will live far longer than I ever will, even if my few drops of elvish blood give me a surprising few extra decades — which, looking at my mother, seems unlikely.” Jaskier lifted his hand, ignoring the slight tug of discomfort the movement caused, and soothed the furrow between Geralt’s eyebrows. “Taking a break for a few years, perhaps a decade or two, isn’t wrong.”

Geralt sighed and turned to face him, his eyes swimming with doubt as they scanned his face. “There are so few of us now, Julek. It would be irresponsible—”

“Then be irresponsible for me.”

They both sat there in silence, waiting on the precipice of change.

“Perhaps we could stay more local?” Geralt started to suggest tentatively. “You stay and teach your students, I only take contracts within a certain distance. An even trade.”

Jaskier huffed and nodded in agreement. It wasn’t what he wanted, but he had always known that Geralt was not one to be tied down to one spot. There was a reason that they did not stay at Geralt’s vineyard for more than a month at a time. His husband would be miserable staying in a townhouse for a few decades. This was a compromise that he could live with.

“But who will dress your wounds when you’re hurt?” Jaskier asked, already knowing that he would agree to these terms. He would do anything for Geralt.

“Roach,” Geralt answered simply, his lips upturned at the joke they’d shared for the past few decades

“Roach?” Jaskier answered wetly, the scripted answer lying on his tongue. “Roach has many wonderful qualities, darling, but field dressing isn’t one of them.”

“So you say,” Geralt grumbled, gingerly pulling Jaskier closer. “I’m sorry I can’t give you more.”

Jaskier smiled and pressed his lips to Geralt’s cheek. “It’s enough. You’re enough. Besides, I know who I married, Geralt, and I love you for it, you noble bastard.”

Geralt chuckled and kissed him back. “And I you, Julek. Now let’s focus on getting you better.”

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