#also geralt's been around for so goddamn long

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

Part 16

Masterlist

Series masterlist

Part 15 🍂 Part 17

Pairing: Syverson x ofc

Series summary: Life with Sy, what more can you wish for? The most amazing husband and father to a whole litter of cute little kids... Sometimes you wonder "how did you get here?"

Chapter warnings: None, unless you consider tooth-rotting fluff a warning? There's definitely some swearing. But there's always swearing when I'm the one writing...

Word count: 1.3k

A/N: I had to do the formatting in the app, so sorry if it's screwed! @keanureevesisbae I didn't want to make you wait until Tuesday ;) (I'll happily make everyone wait until Tuesday for the next chapter, though, because a) I still have to write it and b) I'm not doing this on my tablet again.

@deandoesthingstome @geralts-yenn @omgkatinka @summersong69 @diegos-butt @beck07990 @peaches1958 @pandaxnienke

“Fuck! Sy!” Jules was very much not happy. “You weren’t supposed to be here today. You said you were going to Lara’s after work!”

“I just had to pick something up!”

“Did you ever consider calling first?”

“I’m sorry? I’m not the one fucking on the kitchen table midday. I should be yelling at you!” Sy’s voice was low but he did look plenty pissed off.

“No, Sy. This is my house, and as long as I’m screwing my fiancé on my kitchen table, you have fuck all to say about that,” Jules shrieked, “what you should be doing, as a grown man of thirty goddamn years old, is live on your own, instead of staying with your engaged cousin.” The minute she said it she regretted it, and unfortunately, she also knew that she was going to regret what was she was going to say next. “But since you can’t seem to hold a woman long enough to finally start living the life you claim you wanna live, here we fucking are! And I can’t take this anymore, I want you out of my house, Sy!” Yeah, she definitely went overboard on that one. Anyone could immediately tell form the deeply hurt expression Sy tried to hide before he turned around and made his way to the front door.

“Leave your key!” She shouted after him. Pat nudged her in softly in her ribs, and she turned around to him when she heard the door slam shut.

“Was that necessary, Jules?” Of course Pat was angry – and rightfully so. Julie really shouldn’t have said half the things she said, but the gist of it – that Sy should find his own place to live – was probably true. Patrick couldn’t exactly appreciate the reasoning, though. It’s true that everyone was on edge about the living arrangements, but Sy was family, and that meant something.

 

“Pat?” That was a surprise; he never called you. “What’s up?”

“Is Sy with you?” He sounded concerned, why did he sound concerned? Was there reason to be concerned? You forced yourself to calm down.

“Should I be worried, Patrick?” Who were you even kidding, you already were?

“No, he left here fifteen minutes ago after a fight with Jules, we’re guessin’ he went to your place… Can you just give me a call if he’s not there in ten minutes?” You were about to promise Pat you would when you heard someone at the front door.

“Wait, I think he’s here,” you said as you walked to the door. It opened, and Sy stepped inside. “It’s him. I’ll talk to you.” You didn’t wait for an answer, and just hung up the phone.

“Babe, are you-” The way he pulled you into that hug told you everything you needed to know: He wasn’t okay. Sy didn’t speak or even make a sound as you slowly wriggled your way out of his embrace, he just looked at you with the most heartbreaking puppy-eyes. He followed you to the couch and you just sat there for a while, neither of you saying anything – neither of you knowing what to say or how. After a while Sy looked through the room. The living room was still largely empty; it was too big and you just didn’t have enough furniture. His eyes landed on the fireplace.

“Still no firewood, huh?” He poked at your sides, which made you squeal. Sy shook his head when you said you’d been meaning to get some. “Why don’t you let me do it?”

You had been trying your very best to not let him do it, because you were fairly sure that you’d propose on the spot if you saw this man swinging an axe around in your backyard, but he looked like he needed to work through some anger, and you were all out of carpet.

“What did you tell him, Jules?” You sounded angrier than you had first intended, but that sad look in his eyes was firmly etched into your memory, and it made you mad. Disproportionately mad, maybe, but whether or not your level of anger was justified was not up to Jules. Your mouth fell open when she repeated her words from earlier this morning to you. “You cruel bitch, Jules!”

“I know! I didn’t mean it, I was pissed…”

“Not an excuse, but out of curiosity… What did he do to piss you off, even?”

“He kinda… Walked in on me and Pat…” Ok, so he barged into their bedroom unannounced. In all fairness, that would piss you off, too. “On the kitchen table.”

Jules had to listen to your hysterical laughter for a solid minute; by then you had finally calmed down enough to speak, but it wouldn’t take much to set you off again.

“I’m sorry,” you said, “but you deserved what you got. I’m still mad at you, make this right.” You were a little snappy when you hung up the phone. This little hilarious story – which you hoped you’d be able to lord over her for all eternity – couldn’t make up for the hurtful things she’d said to Sy.

Suddenly, two familiar arms wrapped around you from behind. “She didn’t mean it, Sugar,” Sy mumbled as he gave you a kiss in your neck. As always, it managed to make you moan instantly – that was why he liked doing it so much. It didn’t help that he smelled of sweat and wood and whatever else he usually smelled of. It was musky and manly and it messed with your head.

“She still shouldn’t have said it,” you said as you crossed your arms demonstratively, “there’s no way I’m going to let her talk to my man like that.” The words were out before you realized it, and the grin on Sy’s face gave away that they didn’t go unnoticed.

“I like the sound of that, Sugar.” He turned you around so he could kiss you. “But don’t get too caught up in it, I’m sure she’s sorry.”

You scoffed. Could this guy forgive everything so easily? Either Sy could really read your mind, or your face gave away a little too much. Either way, he laughed.

“Don’t you go thinkin’ you can get away with everything, darlin’.” He kissed the tip of your nose. “But I get it. They ain’t been livin’ together long, just got engaged. They want time to themselves and I really understand why she wants me out of the house.”

“She wants you what?” That was the first time you were hearing that…

“Jules didn’t mention that on the phone?” You shook your head in reply to his question. “She wants me to move out. And I’m pretty sure she meant that part…”

You knew Julie more than well enough to know he was probably right. Sy sighed deeply as he sank down into a kitchen chair and buried his face in his hands. You heard him mumble something about staying in a motel while he looked for a place, and before you could stop yourself, you heard yourself speak: “Why don’t you just stay here, Sy?”

His eyes were wide with surprise when he looked up at you. “Are you sure, darlin’? You’re okay with that?”

“Of course, Sy.” You took the chair next to him and took his hands in yours. For some reason, your felt your heart beat hard in your throat.

“I can also just stay at a motel while I look for something permanent,” he said, “that’s okay, too.”

“Sy…”  You were really going to say it, weren’t you? Oh God, you were… “What if this was something permanent?”

Sy looked at you for a moment before a smile spread across his face. “I’m all in if you are, Sugar.”

#syverson x ofc #syverson #captain syverson fanfiction #syverson fanfiction #captain syverson #captain syverson x reader #syverson x reader #henry cavill characters #henrycavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction

[blackberrywars]

For the fic writers game. 🍑 And 🫐 of course 🤣

AHHH thank you so much for playing dear! I'm sorry it took so long but @halehathnofury, here it is! My most beloved Opinions

🍑 If you could make a connection between your favorite character and another work you care about (whether a crossover/fusion or a wonderfully “pretentious” literary reference) what would it be? How would it work?

Well, I think you and I both know that it's Lambert. And this question makes it difficult because I really can't think of another character quite like him, especially a male one —someone so deeply hurt but still expressive, who wants better but has given up hope on it, simply resigned to clinging to what he knows. He's loud and angry, but he makes it very obvious that it is from a place of grief. He finds loves, but is always waiting to lose them. It's an archetype I've usually only seen in older characters (which......... Vesemir parallels, anyone?).

That being said. "Pretentious" literary reference.

Frankenstein's monster. Born on a able, brought forth by a magician who was so desperate to see if he could, he never stopped to wonder if he should. He's made of a dozen different parts, but none of them matter anymore, except for the fact that they matter the most —they make him human, make him long for all the things humans long for. A family, a lover, kindness. Good meals and warmth. But his rebirth, no matter the parts (the history) that make him human, has made him a monster in everyone's eyes. Lambert may not have murdered his makers, but then again, they were dead pretty soon. If he hadn't had the better influences of his mother and the Wolves... who knows what he'd do.

Additionally, because it's a favorite of mine:

Mad Max from Fury Road. Is part of this inspired by the similarity between Tom Hardy's and Lambert's luscious, smoochy lips? Yes, of course. But also, it once again brings up the theme of having his humanity eviscerated by his environment and the people around him, and, even when he does find some solace, still resigning himself to his reality. Spoilers for the movie, I guess, but Max is pretty goddamn feral for most of the movie, and everyone around him dehumanizes him, to the point of him being turned into a human blood bag. He snaps at everything, because everything has been a threat. Furiosa and the Wives eventually ally with him, and show kindness. He returns it, but at the end, he still moves on. Rebuilding Citadel life isn't for Max, the way Geralt's Corvo Bianco life isn't for Lambert. It will take something else.

🫐 What’s your favorite underrated thing in your fandom? (A ship that only you seem to write for, a character there’s almost no fics about, a trope that criminally hasn’t been written yet, etc.)

In a general sense? The School of the Bear. I swear, it's not even me just being horny on main for large, hairy men, but the logistics of Arnaghad's philosophy really have so much potential. I've written a little about this before, but mostly in references. Essentially, yes, Arnaghad is poisoned by hyper-independence, but considering what reliance on kings/mages got the other schools, he kind of has a point. And if he didn't realize that, or care about witchers' lives, he wouldn't have founded a school about it. He would have just fucked off. He truly believes his method is the best way to keep witchers alive, even if he probably killed the most trainees on the way.

It's a really fucked-up, cruel kind of care that Arnaghad has.

By contrast, I feel like a lot of the fics about the Bears either take the minimal lore we have at face value or soften it to a considerable degree, and I enjoy both approaches. They make sense, especially when writing angst or fluff/smut, respectively. The latter is especially combined with a kind of post-sacking era, which makes sense; it's a bit like most Kaer Morhen fics, where the focus is on the members after the school itself has fallen, rather than when it was actually running. And believe you me, I adore those fics, especially the ones by @round--robin with the wonderful OCs. They are delightful. But something I would also love to see is some writing on Haern Caduch while it was still in operation. My heart hurts just thinking about it.

#berry's games #the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #lambert #school of the bear

[cyberrat]

63rd Batch Of Fics: 13th Fill

Geralt/Jaskier – cont B62F12 – Part 2/2 – love confessions

---

Jaskier isn’t the most patient man anyway and right now his fuse is so short it might as well not be there at all.

He waits for about three seconds of Geralt’s silence before he throws his hands up in the air again, coincidentally also pulling his hand free from Geralt’s lax grip.

“No, you know what? I won’t wait. What should I wait for? You’re just standing there, looking grim and broody. Fuck this.”

Geralt lifts his hand to silence him which annoys Jaskier to no end yet before he can erupt into another tirade, the Witcher finally speaks: “I’m trying to think.”

“Well good luck with that,” Jaskier mutters. By all rights, he shouldn’t just stand there and wait for Geralt to come out with whatever he has to say, but he does. He crosses his arms in front of his chest, a stormy expression on his face that he thinks might rival that of the Witcher for once. He’s just… done with this. He feels on edge, not least of all because his cock simply refuses to go down and he’s been very happily fucking just a few minutes before, what feels like.

Geralt’s expression grows even darker, if possible, the corners of his mouth pulling down in an impressive scowl. Not that Jaskier is impressed by anything at this point. He’s tired and pissed and honestly looks forward to angrily stumbling through a dark forest and eventually getting eaten by some monster.

“I’m sorry.”

Jaskier stares at him with narrowed eyes, unsure whether he’s heard right just now. Has Geralt ever apologized to anybody? It sounded like it physically hurt him.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats again. He’s not quite looking at Jaskier until he gives himself a physical shake and then stares at him as if he’s looking right through to his soul with those sulfur eyes. “I’m sorry that I made you… feel that way.”

“Those were three apologies back to back. What way do you mean?”

For such a big guy, Geralt seems to deflate almost in front of him. He weakly gestures toward Jaskier, up and down and up and down. “Like… that. That you feel like you have to… go.”

Jaskier can feel his anger starting to slip away. It is difficult to stay mad when this big oaf looks progressively more panicked about what to say and what to do.

It feels like if he were to poke just a little more, Geralt would break out in tears. Which… was not going to happen, obviously, but one could dream.

“You know… you’re goddamn idiot,” Jaskier mutters. He rubs his temples, feeling a massive headache oncoming. He peers around and sees that the night watch at the fire is still peering out at them curiously. He’s no longer in the mood to give him a show, though. This time it is him reaching out and grabbing Geralt by the wrist.

“Come on. Let’s go somewhere where we don’t have an audience.”

Geralt follows along without arguing. Just a big, dumb dog trotting along behind Jaskier.

It’s weird how they usually end up in the same place. It doesn’t matter whether they’ve been on a blood pumping adventure or have been arguing and close to drawing blood… after everything, they usually fuck.

Jaskier doesn’t think that he’ll want to try and top Geralt any time soon. The last time has somewhat soured the experience for him… but that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t enjoy Geralt ramming him into oblivion with that big Witcher dick of his.

Jaskier’s eyes keep fluttering, his hands scrabbling against the bark of the tree. He’s glad he thought of putting on his gloves for this.

He keeps thinking about that he should have given Geralt a harder time… make him work for it more before allowing him to stick his stupid fat Witcher cock in and fuck him into oblivion. The truth of the matter is, though, that he’s really missed this. He’s really missed them. He’s kept thinking about Geralt for an embarrassing amount of time, honestly. Long after he should have just given up on him after the way he left him standing in the literal dust and rotting in a goddamn prison.

Geralt is barely making a sound, just like he did when Jaskier fucked him. It’s probably some pride thing or somesuch… Jaskier wouldn’t be surprised. He’d have asked if he weren’t pretty sure that Geralt would just blankly stare at him and have no idea what he’s talking about…

“God, fuck, ah… r-right there-” Jaskier arches his back, twisting his hips, trying to get Geralt’s dick to rub up at the exact same spot it just did. Geralt grabs him and makes him stand still, though. His hands are made of iron. Jaskier nearly bites his tongue in two, his whole body singing and desperate for that special stimulation-

Geralt keeps moving. Jaskier has no idea how he’s doing it but he keeps pummeling that exact same spot; just pushing up against it over… and over… and over again until his lungs burn because he just can’t breathe anymore. Or maybe it’s because Geralt’s cock is nudging up against them? It feels feasible at this point.

Who the Hell knew what kind of freaky shit a Witcher could get up to?

“G-Gahhd…” Jaskier’s eyes are rolling into his skull, his whole body thrumming with the need to pump out his load. Right now, he would forgive Geralt anything and everything, if he’s honest.

All he can hear is his own harsh breathing, soft moans pressed out of him by Geralt’s cock ramming into his guts and making him see stars. Or maybe that’s the sky he can see between the barren branches of the trees? He doesn’t… he isn’t…

“...I love you.”

Jaskier nods along. It takes his overheated brain a few thrusts of Geralt’s Witcher cock to realize that those words had been uttered by Geralt himself. And that he hadn’t just imagined them as he edges along insanity.

He awkwardly twists around, just staring at Geralt whose face is very carefully blank now in the way it becomes when he’s panicking and trying not to show it.

Jaskier is gaping at him. He wants to grab him by the throat and make him repeat what he said but he’s bend the fuck over and getting railed; there’s no way for him to do anything but get downright forced into an orgasm by Geralt who might be hoping that he’ll forget all about what he just said in the throe of passion.

Oh but Jaskier won’t forget.

He absolutely won’t forget, no matter how mind breaking the orgasm.

#cyberratting writes stuff #geralt/jaskier #love confessions

[teatitty]

Netflix! Jaskier is canonically a damsel in distress who does always need Geralt to save him from monsters but he’s also unhinged in the sense that he: 1) shit talked a bunch of elves while they were talking about killing him (and he even said crap to them in Elder! their own language! the balls he has!), 2) was completely willing to let Yennefer die after she threatened him (fair enough), 3) his first “wish” was for Valdo Marx to die of apoplexy and 4) he has no real self-preservation once someone has caught his eye (see: his first meeting with Geralt) 

Jaskier has literally only lived this long out of sheer luck and, occasionally, Geralt saving his arse and that’s what makes his whole character so goddamn funny to watch on screen and we really need more content that goes into that I think

#the witcher #also he gets tongue tied and flustered around hot /dangerous/ ppl specifically #u see it with geralt yennefer AND tea and vea #so if anything JASKIER would be the one who gets flustered #and GERALT would be the one who seduces him into his bed #because geralt canonically doesnt really hesitate when it comes to sex #also geralt's been around for so goddamn long #that i doubt anything sex-related is gonna bother him #these tags got really geraskier in the end #oh well

[wishicouldpostfromsecondaryblogs]

7. "and why would i do this for you?" "because you love me." "not enough- fine." from the prompt lost for geraskier maybe?

Jzkdsk this was the FIRST thing I saw on that list that made me reblog it immediately- it fits so well in so many different ways!!! But I had to choose only one unfortunately.

(Also I do have to hit the hay but goddamn will I be making a part two for this this one was FUN)

-

"And why," Geralt sighs, dropping the horse combs into his bag with a sigh. "Would I do that for you?"

"Because you love me," Jaskier replies with his widest grin, leaning on the stable door.

"Not enough-" He starts, but then an idea suddenly flashes in his mind, making him grin. "Fine."

"Oh, come on! Plea- Wait, what? Did you say 'fine'? Really?"

Geralt rolls his eyes as he stretches out Roach's legs, checking her hooves. He can't supress the growing anticipation though. "You heard me."

There's a moment of silence from behind him.

"No! No," Jaskier leaps into the stall and ducks under Plotka to get Geralt to look at him with narrowed eyes, hands on his hips. "This is one of your reverse psychology tricks isn't it? One of your elaborate mind games?"

"I don't play mind games," Geralt mutters, removing the patterned cloth that the bard had wrapped around Plotka's fetlocks for 'luck and cleanliness and beauty'. Jaskier snorts.

"Yeah, maybe you can convince someone of that when they haven't played Gwent with you. But seriously, will you actually come? And- and help?"

Geralt sighs and straightens back up to look at him. "Yes, Jaskier. I will come with you to your parent's house and break the extremely important betrothal they've arranged so you can continue being a nuisance and fucking your way across the entire Continent."

Jaskier lets out a whoop of joy and throws himself into Geralt's arms, almost sending them both to the manure-covered ground below. "Oh, you wonder of a man! Thank you so much, whatever would I do without you, darling? You are, without a doubt, the best friend any person could ever ask for!"

Geralt smiles into Jaskier's shoulder, feeling his skin tinting pink. It's nothing he hasn't said before but... It's still nice to hear it, sometimes.

"Well," Jaskier says as he pulls back, pulling on Plotka's lip affectionately when she nuzzles towards them to see what the fuss is all about. "I must say, it really is so much more calming to know you'll be there with me in that stuffy, horrible place. And there to help me out if it all suddenly goes tits up."

Geralt tilts his head with a frown. He knew better than most what nobles were capable of, but- "You're their son. Won't they respect your wishes?"

Jaskier's face falls slightly, smile turning fake. "Ah, they- they never really took kindly to the whole... changeling thing, you know? Not that they treated me horribly, just didn't ever- treat me the same as everyone else. Maybe shouted a bit more often than needed, perhaps, and some really bad punishments once in a while. Then again, I barely remember what they were like, it's been so long."

Geralt has a bad feeling it was actually much worse than Jaskier is making it out to be. The resignation that he was going with him to his family turns into unrelenting certainty.

"But!" Jaskier says suddenly, clapping his hands. "Don't think you can distract me, Witcher- what made you change your mind so quickly, hm?"

Geralt feels the smirk curl his lips before he can stop it. "There's only one thing that Redania accepts as a betrothal-breaker, isn't it? If one of the persons in question is already handfasted."

Jaskier frowns as he takes that in and then goes through a truly spectacular amount of emotions in five seconds. Geralt relishes the rare speechlessness as his mouth opens and closes a few times, before finally sputtering. "So- so, what, you want to pretend to be married? Why would you-" His face falls into flat unamusement. "You're going to insult me the whole time, aren't you?"

"What handfasted individual would not know the exact loudness of their beloved's snores at night?" Geralt says mock seriously and laughs as he dodges the arm coming to smack him. "The precise-" He moves around Plotka, putting the horse between them as Jaskier chases him with noises of outrage. "-way you utterly fail at doing laundry? How you once got so wasted on beer that you thought you were part-bird and jumped out of the window to the mud below?"

"Geralt of Rivia!" Jaskier exclaims in outrage, stamping his foot even as his eyes are filled with mirth. "You promised never to bring that up!"

Geralt laughs and leans over Plotka's back towards him. "I'll have to if I want to convince them we're married, won't I? Or do you want to be tied off to the girl half your age and get stuck in nobility again?"

Jaskier groans loudly. "You are the worst. I hate you so damn much, really, I take back everything I'd said earlier. Fine! Fine, that's the plan we'll go with, sounds like our best bet. Although be warned, Witcher, I've spent just as many years with you as you have with me- there is no insult you can throw at me that I do not have a rebuttal to."

"Oh, really?" Geralt feels his teeth go sharp at the challenge, Jaskier leaning in with just as competitive a smirk. "Bring it on."

#geraskier #THANK YOU!!!! FOR THE PROMPT!!!! I APPRECIATE IT A LOT #and yes i did go with the fake marriage trope (competitive) sue me #jaskier #geralt of rivia #the witcher #my fic #prompt game #AAAAHHH i have so many ideas for this but i also i have an exam so i must sleep. #once again thank you so much!!!!

[jaskicr]

some witcher!jaskier thoughts

alright so suddenly i had some ideas for an alternate version of i have often dreamed of a far off place (you don’t need to have read the fic to understand this)

basically, witcher!jaskier asks tissaia to cast a spell to make him live a full human life without his witcher memories, and the spell breaks and returns him to a witcher when his human body dies, and all his memories are returned.

instead of being killed right after the mountain, what if jaskier instead led a full life with geralt, raising ciri with him and yen and died of old age?

so geralt and ciri and yen mourn him because they lived a full life with him and watched him grow old and die.

geralt and jaskier were in a relationship and geralt was by jaskier’s bedside as he took his last breath

meanwhile, jaskier (now julian) isn’t actually dead but he’s been returned to his witcher body, so he’s out there panicking

he fears that his family won’t want him because he’s a witcher, so he avoids going to find them and revealing that he’s alive

he’s terrified of them hating him and he doesn’t want to taint their memories of human bard jaskier, so he stays away even though he just really wants to go back to them and tell them that he isn’t dead

and gods, what if geralt hates how he looks as a witcher? jaskier the human bard had been, well, human, with handsome human features, with brown hair and blue eyes that geralt had always found beautiful

but julian the witcher has silver hair and golden eyes, ugly scars scoring across his face, and he looks nothing like jaskier

so julian tries to avoid his family, but one day, he unknowingly stumbles upon the same contract as geralt.

geralt, who’s still devastated over jaskier’s death, is fighting the monster in a grief-fuelled haze and he’s losing

julian arrives just in time to save geralt from the monster, but geralt is badly injured so when he sees julian, he thinks he’s hallucinating jaskier

he’s floating in and out of consciousness but he can see jaskier’s face above him, looking at him worriedly and tending to his wounds and it’s so familiar

but then jaskier’s face is wrong, the hair and the eyes and the scars are wrong but jaskier is here and geralt has missed him

meanwhile, julian is furiously patching up geralt’s wounds, and it’s a routine he knows too well

‘you stupid witcher,’ he grumbles. ‘i wasn’t even gone for a year, can’t you stay out of trouble without me?’

when geralt finally heals, he wakes up with a vague memory of seeing jaskier and his heart aches, because he must’ve been hallucinating but it felt so real 

then he realises that there’s an unfamiliar witcher next to him, whose head is laid on the bed as he sleeps 

and gods, why does this witcher look familiar? is that why he’d dreamed up jaskier? and why is there a witcher here?

then julian wakes up and sees geralt awake. ‘oh thank the gods, geralt, you’re awake,’ he breathes in relief

he starts fussing over geralt, looking over his bandages

and geralt is so goddamn confused because this witcher is a stranger and yet he’s taking care of geralt like they know each other

and there’s a painful familiarity in the way he tends to geralt’s wounds that makes geralt’s heart ache for the bard that he’d lost

he pushes julian away. ‘who are you?’

at first, julian is hurt, but then he realises geralt probably doesn’t recognise him.

after all, it’s been decades since he’s looked this young, not to mention the more witchery aspects of his appearance that make him look different

but julian is also so fucking happy to see that geralt is alive that he just leans forward and kisses geralt on instinct

and geralt is shocked because this strange witcher has the audacity to kiss him out of nowhere, but also... 

there’s only one person who kisses like that

but jaskier is dead,  so he pushes julian away, furious. ‘who gave you the right?’ he demands

but his mind is in turmoil, still full of thoughts about jaskier because he misses his bard so goddamn much

and it doesn’t help that he’s almost certain that he saw and felt jaskier earlier, and this witcher kisses exactly like jaskier, and his emotions are a maelstrom of confusion and grief and devastation, because what’s happening?

and julian is stammering out apologies as he backs towards the door, inwardly cursing himself for being so careless.

‘i’m just... gonna go,’ he whispers.

he can’t be around geralt, because if geralt realises who he is and rejects him, julian will break. ‘i, uh... you don’t need me anyway, i’ll... see you around.’

then just as julian is about to step out of the door, something clicks for geralt 

‘... jaskier?’

and julian freezes. since his death, he’s worked to convince himself that his family would reject him if they ever realised

he never thought someone would call him by that name that ever again, but geralt recognises him

meanwhile, geralt’s one (1) brain cell is working overtime as he tries to connect the dots.

this witcher has the same face as jaskier, bar the scars, but... jaskier is dead so why does he share a face with this witcher?

but what if - but if jaskier is alive?

and julian is frozen in the doorway as he watches realisation dawn on geralt, and fuck, geralt is going to reject him now, isn’t he?

and he bolts

geralt is stunned, but forces himself to follow after julian despite his injuries, and manages to catch onto julian’s arm once they’re outside 

‘wait,’ geralt pleads, and julian stiffens, but doesn’t turn around

‘jaskier, please,’ geralt begs, tears building in his eyes. ‘is that - is that you?’

and slowly, so slowly julian turns around, and geralt drinks in his face and thinks, oh. so that’s why he kissed like jaskier

he pulls julian into the tightest hug and they’re both crying.

neither of them thought they’d ever get to have this again, but they’re here

when geralt finally pulls away after like an hour of tearful hugging, he asks quietly, voice broken, ‘how?’ 

julian tries to turn his face away, wanting to hide his scarred, inhuman face from geralt, but geralt puts his hand on julian’s chin and turns julian to face him

then geralt kisses him and lets his hands roam over the raised scars on julian’s face, relearning the lines of his face and his body

and geralt is confused but so in awe, because jaskier is here and he’s alive even if he’s somehow a witcher

then julian spills his story and talks about the spell, but all geralt can focus on is that jaskier is alive and won’t be leaving him 

and julian expects geralt to push him away because he’s so different now, he’s not jaskier anymore and he looks nothing like jaskier

but geralt just puts their foreheads together tenderly and murmurs, ‘i love you, jaskier, gods, we have forever.’

then geralt brings julian to ciri and yen and everyone in kaer morhen and there are many tearful reunions as everyone realises that jaskier is alive and won’t be leaving them anytime soon

but even then, julian has a fuckload of extra trauma - he had a life without geralt, a long life filled wth violence and pain, and it’s something they need to work around

yes, jaskier lived a full human lifetime with geralt, but julian had decades/centuries before that, and he isn’t the same person as jaskier

but geralt learns to love this new version of jaskier

and ciri is so goddamn happy that her other father is here with her, and she smacks jaskier a bit for not finding them earlier and making them mourn

but he’s forgiven when he pulls ciri into a crushing hug. ‘i love you, cub, i’m so happy to have more time with all of you.’

yen gives tissaia an earful for not telling them, but tissaia just gives a small, mischievous smile.

she always knew that it would work out eventually, and julian needed to get his dumb head out of his arse

this is a spinoff of this witcher!jaskier fic on mine, so if you liked this, please do check it out!💓

#geraskier #jaskier #geralt of rivia #geralt #witcher!jaskier #witcher jaskier #mine* #i have often dreamed of a far off place #i am made of memories

[wolf-and-bard]

The Geraskier Soccer Parents AU of my dreams (in an early morning strike of weird-brain):

-Geralt knows he isn't the best dad ever. He tries so goddamn hard, but his job is demanding and consumes so much time and even with Ciri being seven already, he still has essentially no clue what he's doing. He sometimes falls into bed, half-dead, and she is the one to give him a good-night kiss. He sometimes forgets she prefers cheese and puts ham on her sandwiches. He is sometimes too happy to have her sleep over at her friends rather than invite them to their house. He doesn't read her all the children's classics, doesn't go trick-or-treating with her, doesn't even pretend Santa Claus is a thing. He isn't the best dad ever. He tries.

-There is one thing he never, ever fails to do and that is take Ciri to soccer practice. Ciri picks up and drops hobbies, interests, even tastes by the week, still unsure what she wants to pursue, but soccer isn't only her favourite pastime, it's theirs. Practice is twice a week and they have a ritual for it. Geralt picks her up from school and drives her there, she tells him about what the dumb boys in her class said, how her art project is going etc. Geralt is there throughout practice, tucked in between Foltest - a guy who is constantly worried for his daughter Adda to get hurt and also very much anxious for her to do well - and Tissaia - a woman who has not one, but three girls in Ciri's age group and several more in others, and knits like a magician - and watches. He takes notes, silently cheers for Ciri.

-After their games and while Ciri changes, Geralt chats with her coach Vesemir - who used to be Geralt's coach, but now prefers to train the girls' teams - about the progress of the team, upcoming tournaments etc. Sometimes when Vesemir is indisposed, Geralt even leads the practice. When Ciri is all done, Tissaia usually has another hat or mitten finished and Geralt and her drive with their girls to whatever food place the girls are in the mood for. They have an early dinner in which Tissaia lectures the girls on their form and in which Ciri is sometimes allowed to sit on Geralt's lap - but only if Fringilla or Yen don't tease hear about it - but in which she definitely gets to steal his milkshake (Geralt hates milkshakes). Geralt only praises her when they're back in the car and Ciri tells him he's too much of a softie with her and should be more like Tissaia. Should maybe marry Tissaia. They both laugh because that is never going to happen.

-Life is good that way. It's not perfect, it's not without bumps, certainly not without tears and scrapes, but whatever the job, whatever injury Geralt carries with him, however long he has to drive, he never, never ever misses soccer practice.

-The season's just kicked off in the year of Ciri's eighth birthday when Geralt and her arrive early on the field to find the stands empty save for a girl in the most ridiculously colorful excercise clothes and blond hair that is braided intricately around her head. With her is a man, maybe five years Geralt's junior. Ciri bolts towards them with a bright grin and Geralt is hesitant to follow. He knows neither the girl nor the man, but from what he can gather she wants to join the team which is just what they need as they're one girl short this season. "Hi, I'm Ciri, I adore your braids." Geralt holds back on the eye-roll. It's nice Ciri can make friends this easily, but his house already is a shrine for role-playing and board games, dolls and random DVDs and another friend means more things Ciri will want to try out. "Thank you," the girl replies and tilts her head to better show them off. "My uncle Jaskier braided them for me, I'm sure he can do yours too." Both girls look up expectantly at the man and Geralt only really notices him then. He is averagely built with bright blue eyes and an even brighter smile. His floral print shirt has three open buttons and his pants barely reach his ankles. He has the look of a flippant music teacher or a hipster coffeeshop owner. His eyes meets Geralt's and, wait, did he just wink? "I'd love to, dear," he says in a smooth voice that absolutely does not go straight to Geralt's guts. Geralt turns on the spot and decides to pressure check the balls, but he can hear the others giggling as Jaskier braids Ciri's hair. "I'm Priscilla by the way. What's up with your dad?" - "Oh, don't mind him, he's bad with meeting new people." - "Very intense." That's Jaskier. Oh, Geralt will show him intense.

-Ciri invites them to their after-practice dinner. Geralt wants to begrudge her that, but she and Priscilla have latched onto each other in record speed and Jaskier actually fights Tissaia on some of her more strict stances and he braids Yen's and Sabrina's hair too, only Fringilla doesn't want him to touch hers which he respects. Geralt and Tissaia glance at each other. Come to a silent agreement. They may not befriend Jaskier, but he's sunny and so good with the girls and they can use someone like him among their ranks, someone who doesn't have Calanthe's tendency for swear words or Crach's tendency to break out beer in the middle of practice or even Nenneke's tendency to relate everything to the workings of god.

-Jaskier is as faithful as Geralt, perhaps the only one who shows up every time without fail. Shani's parents only drop her off and Crach switches between  Cerys' and Hjalmar's practices and Tissaia sometimes texts Geralt to pick up her girls. Jaskier is there, every time, earlier than any of the others. He chats with Vesemir about his day-to-day, brings home-baked cookies for everyone, he cheers and whoops and tries very hard to understand soccer even though it's evident he doesn't. Geralt never wonders why it's him and not Priscilla's parents that come, it's none of his business. He begins to tolerate Jaskier, but he knows that is where he has to draw the line. He has his hands full with Ciri and his job and his brothers too. He can't afford friendships that extend beyond the field.

-Jaskier doesn't let him off though. He always takes the spot next to Geralt (technically an improvement over Foltest's sweaty visage) and prattles on and on, at least until the game begins. When it does, Jaskier divides his attention between the girls and the stack of paper on his lap which he annotates during practice. It's often either sheet music or the illegible scrawl of pre-teens or wonkily drawn instruments. Jaskier already told him, but from that too it is obvious that Geralt's hunch was right, he is a music teacher. Geralt finds his eyes darting to Jaskier's long fingers, nimble and calloused from the various string instruments he plays. Finds himself glancing at where Jaskier's tongue peeks out in concentration. He listens to the man's ramblings and hums his replies and comes to dislike the days when Vesemir isn't there and he has to focus all his attention on giving the girls a good practice. Not that he doesn't want to, it's just that having Jaskier at his back unnerves him.

-(Jaskier for his part doesn’t care at all about soccer, but he cares about Priscilla so he convinced her parents to let him take her; after that, she said it would be fine if he dropped her off and picked her up again, but Jaskier pretends he is super invested in the sport and the team and he is, but mostly he’s invested in charming Geralt)

-After an entire season of mutual pining and obliviousness, Tissaia decides she's had enough and rallies the other parents. She has Foltest organize a big party at his country house, has Nenneke promise to look after the girls (the woman doesn't drink) and has Crach whip out the finest spirits he has in storage. Calanthe makes a phenomenal playlist and it's Tissaia's job to get Geralt to the party (Jaskier's not a problem) and dress up nicely. Only Aridea, Renfri's stepmother, refuses to pitch in, but she's been a bitch anyway.

-When Geralt picks up Jaskier at his downtown flat he has to grip the wheel of his rover hard in order not to short-circuit. Jaskier has done something to his hair that Geralt can't name but that makes him go woozy inside. He wears a plain shirt that compliments his eyes and hugs his body just right and he looks high on life with color in his cheeks and the most dazzling smile. He's gorgeous. "Darling, don't you look dashing," Jaskier says excitedly and props his feet up on the dashboard, only after kissing Geralt on the cheek. Which is not fair. "Likewise," Geralt mutters, then blushes furiously. He didn't want that to come out, oh no. Jaskier either didn't hear or acts like it and they drive in silence to Foltest's country house. Well, aside from the songs Jaskier hums under his breath, some new composition no doubt.

-At first, Geralt thinks it's a nice enough party for someone who doesn't like parties. Foltest's grilling burgers, they all have cocktails, the music is mellow. Not that that stops Jaskier from swirling an already quite drunk Calanthe over the terrace in dazzling moves. Geralt wants to be swirled like that. "You really have it bad, don't you?" Crach comments when he notices Geralt staring. Geralt downs his beer (he's no cocktail drinker) and tries pointedly not to stare at how Jaskier's swinging his ass around.

-The buzz makes it easier and he relieves Foltest at the barbecue for a bit. But then Jaskier walks up to him, a little short on breath and grinning his most flirtatious little grin. It gives him fucking dimples. Sigh. "Hey you big strong man," Jaskier says. He smells like pineapple and coconut, but isn't even a little drunk. "Jask," he says, pointedly flipping a burger. "Foltest says he has an old karaoke machine in the shed, but it's too heavy for me. Help me?" - "...fine." Geralt gestures for Foltest to keep up with the meat and he and Jaskier make their way along a garden path that winds through thickets and by a small pond. The shed is painted blue and white and Geralt and Jaskier find it very much cluttered, but not dirty which is nice. Geralt only understands it's a trap when it's already sprung on them. The tiny click of the look is almost inaudible over Jaskier's anxious commentary of their search for the machine. There is only one small window and no light Geralt can see. Fuck.

-"Ehm, Jaskier?" he reaches out and gently touches Jaskier's shoulder which has the other man yelp and jump. Which doesn't bode well for what Geralt has to tell him. "I think we're trapped." The effect is immediate. Jaskier goes rigid, his breath catches. Is he afraid? Claustrophobic perhaps? Shit, so he can't be in on the joke. "Jask?" - "Geralt. I know we aren't the closest, but I need you to hold me right now." And he launches himself at Geralt. Maybe he is in on the joke? No, he's trembling too hard for that. Geralt catches him and does as asked. "I am absolutely going to die," Jaskier whines into Geralt's neck and Geralt can't help a small chuckle as he rubs Jaskier's back soothingly. This is... surprisingly nice for a trap. Also likely Tissaia's doing. Geralt has a rare idea. "What if I distract you until someone finds us?" he murmurs against Jaskier's hair and Jaskier draws back a little. In the half-dark his eyes glisten, widen when they meet Geralt's. "You would?" - "Close your eyes, Jaskier." Geralt feels a surge of daring, perhaps granted by the intimacy and seclusion of the situation. He catches Jaskier's lips with his own. When they part, Jaskier grins, shaking from something other than fear. "I thought you didn’t much like me," he whispers. "I thought I got on your nerves." - "Idiot." They kiss again and, faintly, Geralt can hear someone cheer from outside.

#my geraskier dream AUs #modern AU #the witcher #soccer parents au #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #gerlion #dandelion #tissaia de vries #vesemir #ciri #yennefer #fringilla #sabrina #and loads others #dad!geralt #he tries his best #priscilla #uncle!jaskier #trapped together trope #I don't know a lot about soccer so forgive any weird vocabulary choices

[king-finnigan]

Love Me Tender

This was written for @thewitcherbog​ bingo cards! This prompt was pillow fort/blanket fort

Fluff in its purest form ^^ No warnings apply, sensory overload is vaguely described. Also on AO3!

The pillows are soft against his skin, the blankets keeping him warm in his little den. Soft, golden light filters through his eyelashes, breaths finally deep and even. He’s finally stopped shaking, even though the panic has been gone for a while now, his heartbeat strong and calm.

He hears the distant sound of the front door opening and closing, muffled by the pillows and blankets shielding him from the outside world. 

Paper bags rustle as they’re put down and emptied of their contents, the fridge opening and closing a few times, the dull thunk of the wooden cabinet doors. Then, footsteps towards his little fort and the harsh, pale light of the sun as a blanket is pulled up, Geralt casting a shadow onto the pillows.

“Hey,” Geralt says softly, eyes tender, lips curved into a gentle smile.

“Hey,” Jaskier mutters back, closing his eyes against the outside world.

“Did it happen again?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want something to eat? Drink?”

“No, thanks, I’m not hungry.” He never is, so shortly after his senses have been overloaded.

“Anything you need?”

He opens his eyes again, bares himself to the harsh light so he can see those familiar, amber irises. “Join me?” he whispers.

It’s a bit cramped in the pillow fort, but Geralt manages to worm his way inside without knocking anything over, casting them both in soft shadows and golden lamp light as he drops the blanket behind him. Jaskier sighs as his boyfriend curls around him, pulling him against Geralt’s chest.

“Wanna talk about it?” His breath is warm against Jaskier’s ear, engulfing him in the scent of that gum Geralt likes so much.

He gives a half-shrug, his movement restricted in a way he doesn’t quite mind. “Same as always, I suppose. The city got a bit too loud for me.”

“Hmm.”

“Don’t you dare apologize for ‘forcing’ me to move here, Geralt,” he interrupts his boyfriend, before Geralt can start his usual spiel of self-hatred and guilt. “It was my own choice to leave the countryside to follow you into the city. And I love living here, I love the fact that you don’t have to travel so goddamn long to and from work, but sometimes it just gets… a bit much.”

“Hmm,” Geralt hums again, and Jaskier can tell he’s going to let the subject rest. At least this time.

They lie there in comfortable silence for a while, Geralt’s heartbeat even and strong against Jaskier’s ear. His eyes follow his finger as he traces lines on his boyfriend’s arm.

“How was your day, by the way?” 

“Fine,” Geralt replies, his voice deep and gravelly with sleep. “Lots of numbers and meetings...”

Jaskier smiles softly as he remembers the time Geralt once tried to explain his job, which had gone way over Jaskier’s head, and which he’d eventually just described as ‘lots of numbers and meetings’. Jaskier’s tried to understand, he really has, but he’s always been shit at finances- but numbers and meetings, he does understand.

“Was it fun?”

“Numbers? Yes. Meetings?” Geralt paused and sighed heavily. “ Like...”

“Trying to bathe Roach,” Jaskier fills in for him. “Just a normal day, then.”

“Hmm.”

As if on cue, Jaskier hears a muffled meow from outside the fort, before Geralt’s cat slips underneath one of the blankets, rubbing her head against Geralt’s hand where it rests against Jaskier’s back, demanding attention. Geralt chuckles softly and scratches her behind her ears.

“Hey, Roach,” he mumbles, before burying his face against Jaskier’s neck, pulling him a bit closer.

Roach, seemingly content with the pets she’s gotten, stretches out and curls into a little brown ball of fur, her purring filling their little sanctuary.

“We should get up,” Jaskier sighs. “It’s almost time to eat.”

“Hmm.”

“We should make dinner.”

“Hmm. Just a little longer,” Geralt whispers against his skin. “Let’s just stay here for a little bit longer.”

“Okay,” Jaskier replies softly, closing his eyes and sinking into the feeling of Geralt’s arms around him, safe and protected in the little haven they’ve made in the middle of their living room floor.

#fluff #geraskier #the king writes #bingo card fic 1

[yersina]

okay, hear me out: blacksmith!jaskier.

like, maybe he’s the owner of his own shop (smithy? forge?), maybe he’s apprenticed to someone else—either way, he works in a little town, proooobably somewhere close to kaer morhen?

(sina, you may be saying that this point, jaskier loves to travel! he likes to see new things and meet new people and cause trouble! how could he stand to stay in one place his whole life? not a problem! shopkeepers aren’t confined to their shops, are they? especially if he’s an apprentice. i propose that he takes semi-annual journeys to travel to more far away towns and sell his wares there and maybe chase a few skirts while he’s at it)

so anyway, blacksmith!jaskier. he’s actually more of a jeweler sort of person—he likes beauty, likes art, and while he can see and appreciate the skill it takes to create a sword or a kitchen knife, he doesn’t really find his calling in creating chamberpots. but alas, see: small town, so this is the best place for something approaching an apprenticeship that he can find.

one day, he’s minding his own business in the back of the shop (smithy??), re-sharpening a knife for a nice old lady who dropped it off a day or so ago, when the master blacksmith storms in and gestures for him to get out. jaskier has long since learned that the master blacksmith is a man of few words, so he troops out to the front with no small amount of exasperation and confusion.

and lo and behold, there stands a witcher in his entrance.

“fix it,” he grunts (bc jaskier is, of course, cursed to work only around people who can’t be bothered to string together more than five syllables at once) and drops the literally shattered remains of a sword on the counter.

jaskier stares. dented swords, he’s seen. they’re close enough to a big city that they’ve occasionally gotten the odd knight looking for a cheaper alternative to city-internal smithies. but shattered? and in so many pieces? “i’d really just advise you buy a new sword at this point, good sir,” jaskier says slowly. “i could use this as scrap metal and make you a new one, but it won’t be the same sword.”

the witcher grunts. jaskier waits expectantly for any more input, but only several seconds of silence follow. “great,” jaskier chirps, injecting as much false cheer into his voice as he can. “i’ll just... take that as a yes.”

so he gets the witcher a new sword (a softer alloy this time, and one that hopefully won’t shatter at low temperatures like this one did), deducts the price of the scrap metal from the asking price of the sword, and sees the witcher on his merry (sullen, silent) way.

except the witcher keeps coming back.

jaskier has no idea why—it’s not like they offer services that any other smithy doesnt. all he does is sell the witcher (geralt of rivia, he eventually learns from town gossip) swords, the witcher grunts through jaskier’s admittedly meaningless chatter, and then he leaves. occasionally, he shows up twice in one month (once before a hunt to get his sword repaired, and then once after for the same), and then he leaves.

it’s utterly baffling.

but then theodore moore, the cheapskate bandit who passes through twice a year in order to spend all of his illegitimate money, drowns in the river while he’s stumbling through the forest drunk.

and then people start disappearing.

it takes until the little girl from down the road disappears while she’s picking flowers in the forest for the townspeople to seriously consider the idea of hunkering down and waiting for someone to take care of the problem. jaskier even rides to the nearby city and posts a request for help. maybe geralt will see it.

they spend half a year avoiding the river like the plague, but then people start disappearing from the town square—next to the fountain. then there’s talk of killing the beast themselves, but none of them know what it’s weak to.

when geralt shows up in the smithy one afternoon, white hair brown with dirt and skin smeared with mud, jaskier nearly cries. “thank god you’re here,” he says, and he’d laugh at geralt’s look of confusion if it weren’t for the circumstances. “we have a job for you.”

if he’d thought geralt was a wall to talk to before, it’s nothing when compared to how quickly geralt stiffens and closes off. jaskier didn’t even know that geralt had been slowly relaxing around him until right then, and a pang of regret echoes through him. “what is it,” he says flatly.

“a man drowned in the river last year,” jaskier explains. “and now six people are dead.” when geralt turns around without another word, jaskier has to scramble around the counter and tug him back. “wait, you can’t just leave—people are dying.”

geralt stares at him, unimpressed. “do you want me to kill it from in here?”

oh. jaskier laughs weakly. “of course, how could i have doubted you, master witcher.”

geralt turns to leave again and actually looks a bit annoyed when jaskier holds him fast. “what is it now?”

“i’m coming with you,” jaskier says firmly.

at least geralt doesn’t laugh in his face. “no.”

“look,” jaskier begins, and swears that he sees geralt roll his eyes. “i’m not—trained in combat, per se, but i can strike a few blows. i work with swords for a living! i can be backup?”

“this isn’t a game.” the furrow between geralt’s eyebrows grows the slightest bit deeper, like the world’s tiniest frown. “you could die.”

“i’ll keep out of the way,” jaskier throws in cajolingly. he’s not sure why he’s fighting so hard to join in on an expedition that will very likely lead to his death, but now that he’s started, he may as well go all in.

geralt just grunts and pulls his arm out of jaskier’s grasp, but he doesn’t do anything to stop jaskier when he grabs a sword and a scabbard and follows on his heels.

(this is where geralt wows jaskier with his fancy silver sword, and jaskier hardly needs to do anything other than gape on the sidelines as geralt dispatches theodore moore—a drowner now, he reminds himself—with brutal efficiency)

jaskier ends up arguing for higher pay for geralt bc of course he does, and manages to get geralt to sit down for a pint of ale in the tavern. jaskier travels but he doesn’t travel, and although geralt isn’t the best conversationalist, he does have some tales.

this ends with jaskier puzzling his way around making a silver sword and maybe getting a mage to imbue it with some magical runes or whatever it is that they do in their ivory towers, and he presents it to geralt the next time he comes by. geralt, being geralt, doesn’t do much else than take it with him while he’s leaving, but jaskier sees it strapped to his back the next time he stops by in the town, and geralt actually asks him to repair it at some point (!!) which is not smth that he’s ever done before.

geralt also starts bringing jaskier things which jaskier is utterly delighted by because it means that geralt has been paying attention while jaskier rambles at him the few times that they manage to sit down in the tavern together. this continues on for years and years and jaskier steadily grows fonder and fonder until he has a Realization one day when he’s looking at a sunflower and thinking abt how it matches the color of geralt’s eyes that goddamn he’s in love with a witcher.

(my Actual Prose runs out here but i’m envisioning jaskier putting those jeweler skills to use in fashioning geralt useful but also pretty pieces of jewelry as courting gifts until one day jaskier is just like “god you’re so fucking dumb” and just kisses him happily ever after the end)

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #blacksmith!jaskier #i Want this now goddammit

[jaskierswolf]

Fuck Indeed - 1 of 4

Rating: E

Chapter WC: 2720

Summary: Jaskier scrolled through the terms and conditions of the website he was planning on selling his soul to. It seemed simple enough, and he really needed the money. His music career hadn’t exactly gotten off to a flying start and he was tired of sponging off his friends and they were, quite frankly, tired of him. He wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be allowed to sofa surf and he really needed his own space.

So, he was starting an OnlyFans account. - On AO3

CW (for whole story): 18+ only, anal sex, masturbation, exhibition kink, sex work, rimming, sex toys, talks of blow jobs, Geralt bottoms but it’s mentioned they switch, biting (but no blood), Jaskier wearing lingerie and makeup.

Jaskier scrolled through the terms and conditions of the website he was planning on selling his soul to. It seemed simple enough, and he really needed the money. His music career hadn’t exactly gotten off to a flying start and he was tired of sponging off his friends and they were, quite frankly, tired of him. He wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be allowed to sofa surf and he really needed his own space. 

So, he was starting an OnlyFans account. 

The only thing he was good at outside of his music and poetry was sex. So why not make some money off of it. He’d already done a shit ton of research on stats, marketing, and the types of audiences he was looking to attract… and yes that potentially meant that he’d spent more money than he could afford on subscriptions to porn but, well, it was an investment. 

He was going to be good at this, nay, he was going to be fucking brilliant; pun intended. 

He smirked as he clicked to register his account. 

Phase one complete. 

Phase two… commencing. 

He quickly adjusted his photograph to the incredibly alluring photo he’d picked out. Essi had helped him stage a photoshoot after he’d promised to only film his videos when he was staying with Priscilla or Valdo. The photo showed him sitting backwards on a chair, stockings pulled up to his thighs and attached by turquoise lace garters. He was wearing a gorgeous matching lingerie set that was barely visible from behind the chair, a tease for the sort of content he would be putting out. He was also wearing a pair of killer heels. 

Heels he absolutely couldn’t walk in yet, but they’d been so pretty and he’d always wanted to learn so he’d bought them on a whim, again more money that he didn’t have…. thank fuck for credit cards. 

He wasn’t looking at the camera, his fringe covering his eyes, but he was clearly laughing at something, blood red lipstick staining his lips. 

He was rather impressed with how it had turned out. 

Now he just needed to get up some content. He glanced at the clock, he had probably missed the best time to post a video today, but he had a few photos from his shoot with Essi. He flicked through his camera roll until he found his second favourite, one where he was looking up just past the camera, eyes catching the light perfectly so they shone a sparkling bright blue. 

Not to be narcissistic, but he looked fucking gorgeous. 

He grinned and typed out a teasing caption to introduce himself, then hit post. Afterwards, he locked his phone and threw it across the room, not wanting to think about the comments and reactions. 

He stared at it as it bounced on the mattress. 

The only sounds were his breath and his heartbeat in his ears. 

“Bollocks,” he muttered after what felt like a lifetime, and scrambled after his phone, unlocking it quickly with a few nimble taps of his finger. 

If he spent the next two hours refreshing his page to see what people thought then… well, no one needed to know. It wasn’t an instant hit, but he was new and it was expected, and he was thrilled at the couple of messages he received and he already had a couple of subscribers. 

He could do this, the fluttering anxiety in his stomach beginning to settle slightly as he repeated the words aloud a few times. He sighed heavily and decided to be productive. He still needed to set up his Twitter page and link it, perhaps an Instagram account as well, one that his parents didn’t have to know about, and fuck he needed to sleep. 

His clock, glowing in the now dark of his room, was telling him more time had passed than he’d realised. 

“Fuck,” he groaned. 

He still needed to get to the studio early this morning. He’d practically begged the owner to let him record a demo, promising that it would be worth it, that he was good.  Luckily for him, there had been a short break very early in the morning before any decent musician worth a damn was awake. He plugged his phone in to charge and made sure he put it down out of reach from the bed. He’d just wake up in the middle of the night and check it otherwise. He just needed to know he wasn’t terrible, was that really so bad?

“Come on, Jask,” he mumbled “you can check after you record your demo. It’s not that long.”

It felt like fucking forever. 

Geralt was busy working at the garage when Yennefer messaged him. He huffed and pocketed his phone, giving his customer an apologetic hum before gesturing for them to continue. Yennefer hadn’t started the text with “Ciri!” so he could ignore it for now, that was their deal. He’d only check his texts from Yennefer at work if there was a problem with their daughter, but that never stopped her from trying. Yennefer got bored easily at work. Her mind was too brilliant and even working in a top law firm wasn’t enough to keep her mind from wondering, the monotony of paperwork getting the better of her. 

It didn’t help that she had assistants to take care of the worst shit for her. Geralt wasn’t exactly sure what Yennefer did all day. He was pretty sure she just organised her minions and planned to take over the world, in between bothering him at work, of course. 

He shook his head with a fond smile, as he watched the young blonde leave her precious Volkswagen Beetle behind. It was an old banged up thing, and she’d clearly bought it for the looks rather than practicality, and the engine had given out after only a month of her buying it. 

“Kids,” he scoffed. 

Business was business though, it brought in sorely needed cash.

Not as much as his other job… but that was a more lucrative role, one that only Yennefer knew about. He was careful to keep his face hidden, but so far he’d been lucky. No one else in his physical life knew about his OnlyFans account, probably because he was still just starting out. He’d only been at it a couple of months and he was, admittedly, not the best at having an online presence, which was why he’d begrudgingly asked Yennefer for her help. 

- New kid on the block, he’s just your type.

Yennefer’s message read, blunt as ever. He rolled his eyes and clicked the link. Sure enough there was a photograph of a young brunet straddling a chair, wearing fucking lingerie. He swallowed, staring at the photograph just a little too long. 

He growled and stuffed his phone back in his pocket. He should have known better than to open the link at work. 

But that smile haunted him for the rest of the day, making every second drag, the world turning to a haze and every movement felt like he was wading through mud. He wanted to get home. 

He wanted to know more about this Dandelion. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, pressing his fingers to his forehead, hoping it would push the thoughts of the man from his mind. 

It didn’t. 

By the time he got back to his house he felt like he was on fire, his skin crawling, restless, burning. He showered as quickly as he could, just about managing to wash all the conditioner from his hair before stalking back to his room and firing up his laptop. He groaned as he finally had a chance to stalk Dandelion’s page. 

The second photograph was even better than the first, bright blue eyes searing into his mind, and the smile of a fucking angel. He looked young, mid-twenties, only a few years younger than Geralt probably, and he was exactly the sort of man he would do well on this goddamn site. He looked charismatic, easy on the eye, definitely flirty judging by the cheeky grin on his face, and he was probably excellent at the marketing side of things. 

Geralt glanced at his subscribers and cursed. Dandelion hadn’t even uploaded a video yet but his follower count was crawling up faster than Geralt’s ever had. 

And that made him… angry?

Jealous perhaps, but there was a bitterness growing in his heart now. 

He had to do better. He couldn’t allow this man to overtake him. He just couldn’t. 

He growled and shut his laptop with a snap, pulling out his phone with more force than necessary. Yennefer would know what to do. She was good at this sort of thing. He just hoped that he didn’t need to explain himself. It was pathetic and irrational but… he wanted to win. 

Jaskier stumbled upon the White Wolf’s page purely by accident. He’d been looking for inspiration before filming his first video. He knew what he wanted to film but he was tired and wasn’t really sure he was in the mood for it, so he began to scroll. He’d unsubscribed from a lot of accounts to save money but the silver-haired Adonis had caught his attention. 

The leather strapped around his otherwise bare torso helped. Jaskier was weak for a man in leather. 

Before he knew what he was doing, Jaskier was putting in his details to subscribe, sending off a silent apology to his bank account.

The White Wolf was the silent brooding type, never quite revealing his face, but that wasn’t uncommon. His long hair fell down past the man’s pecs, curling at the ends just above the black leather straps. Chest hairs trailed down the man’s torso, the photo cropped before revealing anything else. Jaskier let out a low whimper at the thought of what might be revealed. 

He groaned and scrambled for his bottle of lube before letting out a curse. 

He had a video to shoot. 

He didn’t have time to jerk off to this god’s account. He grumbled and got changed into the turquoise lingerie from the photoshoot. He had decided to use the photos as a teaser for his first video, creating some continuity and helping to create a brand that he could build on. He hummed happily as he pulled up the stockings, they felt soft against his skin, bringing a fragility to his otherwise muscular frame. 

Not quite as muscular as Wolf’s. 

What wouldn’t he give to lick the lines of those abs?

Once he was dressed, he pulled out his makeup bag. He wasn’t quite as skilled with eyeliner as Essi yet so he settle for a smudged black look before adding the red to his lips. He gave himself a once over in the mirror, flashing a smile. It wasn’t perfect but it was only his first video. He’d get more practice as he worked. After one final check of the lighting in his room – well, his temporary room thanks to darling Priscilla – he made sure he had lube nearby. With shaking hands, he set up the camera and clicked record. He would edit both the start and the end of the video later. 

He sighed and then let a seductive smile grace his lips as he winked at the camera, kneeling on the bed.

“Hello darling,” he purred in a low voice “I am so happy you could join me.”

He pictured the chiseled torso of his Wolf, mind filling in the blanks of his face, square jaw, soft warm brown eyes, perhaps stubble on his cheek. He felt the warmth of arousal pool in his core at that thought, his cock filling out in the lacy underwear. Definitely stubble then. He wanted to feel the scratch against his cheek, his neck… his arse. 

His fingers had drifted down his chest and were toying with the hem of his panties without him even realising it. His eyes fluttered open as he remembered his audience. 

“Oops,” he breathed “forgot where I was for a moment there, sweetheart. You don’t mind, do you?”

He paused. 

It felt right. 

God, he had no idea that he was doing, but the idea of people on the other end of that camera, watching him. Fuck, he hadn’t known he’d be into that. He palmed himself through the thin fabric, letting out a slightly exaggerated moan so the camera would pick it up. 

He wondered if Wolf would see this, would he get hard watching Jaskier touching himself… would he touch his own cock? 

Jaskier’s breath hitched and he bit his lip. He locked eyes with the camera as he let out a sigh. “I’ve just been feeling so lonely, it won’t take much tonight, just the thought of you.”

The words felt awkward, stunted but it was only his first video and blood was flowing away from his brain right now, making improv difficult. He’d need a script for next time. 

“It’s my first video so I wanted to get dressed up, do you like it?” a pause “It feels so soft against my skin.”

His other hand reached up to stroke his nipples through the lace. He tilted his head back and rolled his hips forward to his cock brushed against his own hand, another moan escaping his lips, playing it up for the camera. “Shall I keep them on?” he asked the camera, voice huskier than he was expecting. Fuck this was affecting him more than he imagined. 

He swallowed, and licked his lips, fingers pulling down his panties to reveal the tip of his cock already leaking onto the brightly coloured lace. “I might ruin them… but I think you’d like that…”

Would Wolf like that… watching Jaskier cum all over the pretty panties. 

Jaskier whined, smearing the precum over his hand and then down the length of his cock under the lace. The touch sent waves of pleasure through his whole body, and he let out a low curse. His eyes fell shut as he slowly stroked himself, taking his time, teasing himself. He pictured his Wolf pulling the straps of his bra down off his shoulders, pressing kisses into his neck, biting on his shoulders as he touched him. God he really needed to watch his videos, if he could pull such vivid images of the man from just one photograph. 

“Fuck, that feels so good…” he gasped, struggling to keep his movements slow. He forced his eyes open to look at the camera. He could only imagine how he looked right now, eyes dark, cheeks flushed, lips red from where he’d been biting them, one hand working on his cock, the other pinching at his nipples through sinfully see-through fabric. 

“I want you to touch me so bad,” he gasped “would you fuck me, if I ask?” 

He swallowed, imagining Wolf’s hands on his hips, pressing bruises into his skin… spreading his cheeks apart… fingers dripping with lube, ready to stretch him. He bit his lip again, almost hard enough to draw blood. He hadn’t noticed he was fucking into his own hand, thighs burning as he knelt on the fresh silk sheets. He was close, too close… not what he’d meant for this video but it was too late now… he couldn’t hold back.

He gripped his cock harder, stroking faster, the underwear pushed down by his efforts. 

“I. I can’t…” he stammered through the haze “I need, please…”

He almost sobbed, begging his unseen audience. “Please.”

He pinched roughly on his nipple, the sharp pain tipping him over the edge, and he came all over his hand with a wordless cry. 

He struggled not to collapse onto the bed, but he did rest back on his ankles as he gasped for breath. “Fuck,” he whispered hoarsely… surprised by the intensity of his orgasm. He glanced up at the camera with a smirk, flicking his tongue out to lick his lips. “Until next time, darling.” 

He winked at the camera and then crawled forward so he could turn it off. Once that was done, he fell back on the bed with a contented sigh before remembering the state of his pants. He grimaced and reluctantly got up to go shower, the thought of the White Wolf still lingering in his mind.

________

Next

Taglist (18+): @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde @slythnerd @hailhailsatan @thecomfortofoldstorries @gelos @moonysourenza @frances-the-red @honeysuckletook @elliestormfound @sleepy-thief @artistsfuneral  @kittynannygaming @stinastar @fontegagrilledcheese @baka-yu @anythinggoesfandoms @veritasrose @trickstermoose67 @nonegenderleftpain @kueble @justjess94 @kozkaboi @wherethewordsare Let me know if you want to be added for this story or in general!

#the witcher #geraskier #onlyfans au #enemies to lovers #geralt of rivia #Jaskier #geralt/jaskier #unrequited enemies #wolfie's witcher writing

[bamf-jaskier]

I’m reading a non-canon short story written by Andrzej Sapkowski about Geralt and Yennefer’s wedding called Something Ends, Something Begins and my heart is literally so full. Even Asaps has to get tired of having so much angst so this short story is a literal fluff-fest and I love it so much. 

So I thought I would share some of my favorite quotes from the story and if you all want to read it, here is the link. 

"One day she'll break her neck," growled Yennefer, watching Ciri galloping in the splashing water, bent, firm in the stirrups. "One day your crazy daughter will break her neck."

Geralt turned his head and without a word looked into the sorceress's violet eyes.

"All right, then," smiled Yennefer, without averting her eyes. "Sorry, our daughter."

She hugged him again, pressing herself against him firmly, bit him in the arm again, kissed him, and bit him once more. Geralt touched her hair with his lips and carefully pulled her gown over her shoulders.

I am literally...I swear, we finally get domestic Yenralt and it isn’t even in the canon universe. I am literally going to fight someone. This is so damn cute and the way Yennefer is like “our daughter” my goddamn heart. 

The list of the guests wasn't that long. The engaged couple compiled it together and charged Dandelion with sending the invitations. Soon it turned out that the troubadour lost the list before he could even read it. Because he was ashamed to confess, he used a cheap trick and invited whomever he could. Of course he knew Geralt and Yennefer well enough that he didn't miss anyone important, but it wouldn't have been him if he didn't enrich the list of the guests by an admirable number of quite random persons.

Why does it just make sense that Dandelion would fuck this up? It’s so in-character, putting him in charge of the guest list was the first mistake. 

No one invited the golden dragon Villentretenmerth, because no one knew how to invite him and where to look for him. To the general astonishment the dragon turned up, of course incognito, in the form of the knight Borch Three Jackdaws. Of course, where Dandelion was present, one could not speak of any incognito, but even so few believed when the poet pointed at the curly-haired knight and claimed it was a dragon.

The image of Dandelion just pointing at this dude and yelling “He’s a dragon!” is fucking hilarious, especially when you consider most people don’t know dragons can shapeshift. 

"Was it you who invited

Triss Merigold?

"No," the witcher shook his head and silently praised the fact that the mutation of his blood system didn't allow him to blush.

"Not me. I think it was Dandelion, even though all of them claim to have learned about the wedding from the magical crystals."

"I don't want Triss to be present on my wedding!"

"But why? She's your friend."

"Don't make a fool out of me, witcher! Everyone knows you slept with her!"

"That's not true."

Yennefer's violet eyes narrowed dangerously.

"It is true."

"Is not!"

"It is!"

"All right," he turned around angrily. "It is true. So?"

The sorceress was quiet for a moment, playing with the obsidian star on the black velvet ribbon around her neck.

"Nothing," she said at last. "I just wanted you to admit it. Never try to lie to me, Geralt. Ever."

I love the little bickering. Also, like, even though Triss and Yennefer are friends try valid of her to not want her at the wedding. She slept with Geralt!! Love how Geralt tries to deny it at first but gives up ten seconds later. Geralt really tried to pull the “just friends” card and Yennefer was having NONE of it. 

The doppler accused Villentretenmerth of racism, chauvinism and lack of knowledge on the discussion's topic. Therefore, the insulted Villentretenmerth changed for a moment into his natural dragon form, destroying several pieces of furniture and causing a general panic. When the situation calmed down, a fierce quarrel began, in which humans and non-humans accused each other of lack of open-mindedness and racial tolerance. 

A quite unexpected twist in the discussion came from the freckled Merle, the whore who didn't look like a whore. Merle announced that the whole debate was stupid and pointless and didn't concern true professionals, who don't dinstinguish between such things, which she was willing to prove on the spot (for an adequate reward, of course), even with the dragon Villentretenmerth in his natural form. 

In the silence that fell abruptly in that instant they heard the female medium proclaim that she's willing to do the same, and for free. Villentretenmerth quickly changed the topic and began discussing safer topics, such as economics, politics, hunting, fishing and gambling.

Everything about this sequence is perfect, absolutely prime. Dragons and Dopplers fighting, Merle saying she would fuck a dragon in dragon form. This has EVERYTHING. 

"I'll get going right after the feast," Ciri repeated. 

"I want... I want to feel the wind in my face on the back of a galloping horse again. I want to see the stars on the horizon again, I want to whistle Dandelion's ballads at night. I'm longing for a fight, the dance with a sword, I'm longing for the risk, for the delight victory brings me. And I'm longing for solitude. Do you understand me?"

"Of course," Geralt smiled sadly. "Of course I understand you, Ciri. You're my daughter, you're a witcher. You'll do what you must. But I must tell you one thing. One thing. You can't run away forever, even though you'll always try."

"I know," she replied and cuddled herself closer to him. "I still have hope that one day... If I wait, if I'm patient, then I, too, perhaps will live such a beautiful day like this... Such a nice day... Even though..."

"What, Ciri?"

"I've never been pretty. And with that scar..."

"Ciri," he cut her off. "You're the most beautiful girl in the world. Right after Yen, of course."

"Oh, Geralt..."

"If you don't believe me, ask Dandelion."

"Oh, Geralt."

Ciri telling Geralt she wants to travel and move on is just heartbreaking but it makes sense. She has more adventures to go on. Geralt’s story is ending. Hers is beginning. Also Ciri feeling insecure about her appearance and Geralt being a good dad and comforting her? Amazing. 

"I have unfinished business there," she hissed. "For Mistle. For my Mistle. Even though I avenged her, but for Mistle one death is not enough."

Bonhart, he thought. She killed him out of hatred. Oh, Ciri, Ciri. You're standing on the edge of an abyss, daughter. Not a thousand deaths would avenge your Mistle. Beware of hatred, Ciri, it consumes like cancer.

"Watch out for yourself," he whispered."I'd rather watch out for others," she smiled ominously. "It pays off more, it works better in the long run."

I will never see her again, he thought. If she leaves, I will never see her again.

"You will," she answered unexpectedly and smiled with a smile of a sorceress, not of a witcher. "You will, Geralt."

When Geralt asks what Ciri plans to do on her travels she literally says: I am going to avenge my dead girlfriend and murder some people. Which is not a healthy coping mechanism but damn if the idea of a gay revenge story doesn’t sound good to read. 

The priestesses Iola and Eurneid also sobbed, when Yennefer refused to put on the white wedding dress they had made for her. Not even Nenneke's mediation helped. Yennefer cursed, threw around hexes and dishes, while repeating that she looks like a fucking virgin in white. 

The enraged Nenneke began yelling, too, and told the sorceress that she behaved worse than three fucking virgins at once. Yennefer responded by conjuring a ball of lightning and demolishing the roof of the corner tower, which had its good side, too. The crash was so terrible that Caldemeyn's daughter got shock from it and her diarrhea stopped.

Once again, this scene has EVERYTHING. Yennefer getting so pissed it demolishes a tower. The shaking being so bad it stops diarrhea. Also, why does Asaps use diarrhea so often in his books? You know what, I don’t want to know. 

Triss Merigold and the witcher Eskel from Kaer Morhen, were seen again, sneaking, arms linked, into the garden summerhouse.

Is that...IMPLIED TRISSKEL?? OKAY THEN. All the Trisskel friends out there: They hooked up at Geralt and Yennefer’s wedding I don’t make the rules. 

"Yen..."

She looked breathtaking. Black wavy locks, curled up with a golden tiara, fell in a shining cascade over her shoulders and the high collar of a long white brocade dress with black-striped sleeves, pulled together on a bodice with countless drapes of lilac ribbons.

"Flowers, don't forget the flowers," warned Triss Merigold, all in dark blue, and handed a bouquet of white roses to the bride. "Oh, Yen, I'm so happy..."

"Triss, darling," sobbed Yennefer all of a sudden, upon which both sorceresses embraced and kissed the air around their ears and diamond earrings.

"Enough of those endearments," ordered Nenneke, smoothing the folds on her snow-white priestess dress. "We're going to the chapel. Iola, Eurneid, hold her dress, or she'll kill herself on the stairs.

Triss and Yennefer’s friendship is so sweet sometimes. Like, they would literally murder each other but they would also murder FOR each other too. 

Yennefer approached Geralt and with a hand in a white lace glove she straightened the collar of his black cloak, embroidered with silver. Geralt offered her an arm.

"Geralt," she whispered into his ear. "I still can't believe it."

"Yen," he answered her in a whisper. "I love you."

"I know."

I don’t know is Asaps is purposefully referencing Star Wars here but either way this had me tearing up. Geralt and Yennefer deserve a happy ending and even if it’s not officially canon the author wrote it so this is canon in my head. 

The wedding was splendid. Ladies and maidens cried collectively. Herwig was the master of ceremony, a former king, but still a king. Vesemir from Kaer Morhen and Nenneke stood in as parents of the betrothed couple, Triss Merigold and Eskel as witnesses. 

Okay but why is Asaps sneaking in the Trisskel? I want more of it and this pairing definitely intrigues me. Also Vesemir and Nenneke as their parents? That’s so damn sweet. I swear to fuck this entire short story is too damn cute and I want more of it. 

I cannot stress how much I love the energy Merle brings to the table. Saying she would straight up fuck a dragon. The power of it all. 

#I am OBSESSED #like this has EVERYTHING #and I mean EVERYTHING #the witcher #yenralt #asaps #andrzej sapkowski #The Witcher books #myposts #yennefer #geralt #triss #eskel #trisskel #ciri #wedding

[noszkass]

ashley tempest winthrope.

thirty six. defense attorney. jai courtney.

“You’re supposed to grow out of your horridness, aren’t you? I don’t think I ever grew out of mine. Sometimes I think it’s still inside me, like something nasty I swallowed, that got stuck…”

character/content warning: this character will be involved in toxic, co-dependent relationships that deal with abuse and death of a peer/family member (via murder). interact with him at your own risk!

dominant traits. logical, charismatic, gentleman, stoic, focused, patient, selectively affectionate, charming, observant, cautious, possessive, unpredictable, self-preserving, forceful, obsessive, demanding, melancholic, aggressive, irritable, distrusting, unrelenting, loyal, easily jealous, less hair-trigger more berserk button, no-nonsense, quick thinking, dishonest.

fictional parallels. elijah mikaelson (the originals); geralt of rivia (the witcher); henry winter (the secret history); pope cody (animal kingdom); richie gecko (fdtd the series).

○ born into the winthorpe family; known for their successful generational family law practice, as councilmen from neighboring townships, and good for nothin’ criminals who latched onto the teat of a community that’s long-since given up on them like leaches─depending on what side of magnolia it is you live in. ashley’s particular branch is the former. estate house in bellflower boulevard, debutant turned matron belle mother who just can’t seem to find her way around or out of other people’s business (including, if not almost invariably, that of all three of her children), and a certain amount of respectability he was brought up to live by.

○ on the surface ashley winthorpe is a deliciously handsome man. wealthy and put together. takes pride in his appearance and family name. he’s also well-mannered and polite, and thoughtful in such infinitesimal ways that you never really think much of until after the fact. but among the sticky sweet molasses, there is something so very not right about him. he has a kind smile that never quite reaches the edges of his eyes and though it doesn’t necessarily look disingenuous, there’s something about it that doesn’t exactly leave you with a sense of ease. like an unfamiliar gesture that’s been practiced over and over, so many times that it’s lost meaning. like it takes the muscles in his face a moment to pull before they settle in the correct spots. he’ll have a conversation with you and while at times it seems he’s looking right through you, others will have his attention so intensely undivided it feels as if you’ve been bared naked and left in a cold room. like you’ve just been caught lying about something and he knows. like, somehow, he’s known all along. because he listens intently when you speak to him and you suspect somehow he never forgets a single thing he’s heard.

○ there’s no mistaking his booming voice, jarring, even at a whisper sending shockwaves through your core that has you on high alert. even when it’s soft and lulling (in an attempt to offer comfort or catching him melt into the woman he’s declared the love of his goddamn life from the corner of your eye through the crack in his office door), there’s something threatening that looms. less like hard blunt force and more like a living, breathing fog that blankets you with strong arms, settles deep into your gut, coils itself around your innards, and wrings you dry. the confusing part? you know, without a doubt, he would protect you with no hesitation and ask for nothing in return. and, most of the time, you’d be right. because ashley winthorpe is a good man. no matter how your instincts thrash, screaming at you otherwise.

i want to do a very specific group plot with him. probably mostly humans, definitely not for the faint of heart. i'll post it up later!

#ofunholythingsrp #type: blurb #ch: ashley winthrope

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

A Good Deal

lets not talk about what day it was bogizens... 👀 this is part of the hallmark june weddings event we did in the bog!  

it’s also on ao3 here!

Warnings: insecure eskel, stressed triss, honestly its pretty fluffy., could be classified as mild emotional whump.

_____________

Triss was frantic when Eskel trudged up the stairs to the back door in the kitchen. He paused for a moment, leaning against the railing where he could just see her through the window in the door, box braids falling out of her loose bun, some sort of sauce smudged on her forehead, her arm muscles standing out and furiously beating the ever-loving shit out of whatever was in her bowl. Fuck, he thought she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. A little scary too, but that was his type.

“Afternoon, Gorgeous,” he called through the screen door, waiting for her to unlock it.

Instead of her normal ‘Afternoon, Handsome,’ he got a snappy, “If any bit of your clothing has been at the fire station, take it off out there. I just got the floors clean, and I don’t have time to do them again before the wedding.”

“If you wanted a striptease you could have just asked,” he chuckled, pulling his shirt over his head and kicking his boots off. All of him had just come from the station.

“Eskel, please,” her voice was about an octave higher than when he liked to hear those words normally, and the tightness at the end of her words made him worried.

“I’m clean, ish, can I come in?”

When she let him in she only gave him a quick peck before it was back to what Eskel could now see were egg whites.

“What’s wrong?”

That was apparently the wrong question. Triss dropped the bowl back onto the counter and braced herself against it, hanging her head. Her shoulders looked so tense Eskel thought the muscles might snap, “Fucking everything. Yen’s parents are getting in tomorrow and I only have the middle floor flipped because Annalee called in sick and Taylor is nowhere to be found, and I have to get this breakfast prepped because I have to make sure there’s food for the girls to eat while they get ready. Then I still have to call Jaskier and see when he’s bringing the cake and décor over and I have to run into the store to get the food for the next three days while they’re here and one of Yen’s aunt’s is allergic to everything under the fucking sun! Oh! And I also need to tell Jask to do everything last minute as far as the cake goes because I don’t have the fridge space and-and there’s still a goddamned molehill in the backyard where they’re having the ceremony and-“

Eskel wrapped his arms around her from behind, placing one hand over her sternum and one over her stomach, and held her tight while he whispered, “It’s gonna be okay. We’ll figure it out. Just take a minute to breathe for me?”

She took a shuddering deep breath and let it out as she rested her head back against his chest, brushing a stray braid out of her eyes, “…and I have a headache…”

“That,” Eskel mumbled, pausing to press a kiss to her forehead, “we can fix quickly.” He pulled them over to her medicine cabinet and handed her some ibuprofen and a large glass of water, also insisting she sit and eat something.

After a minute or two of Triss picking at some leftover pasta salad she groaned and shoved it away, “ and my mother called.”

“How’re Sheila and the dogs?”

“Fucking unbearable,” she grumbled, pitching her voice up and scrunching her nose to imitate her mother’s nasally voice, “ When are you settling down? I was so excited when you said wedding! Haven’t you hired an inn manager yet? Why do you still clean rooms? Did you read that diet book I sent you?”

Pushing her pasta back towards her after the last question, Eskel did his best to remain casual and calm, “I thought she hated me?”

“She hates all of my partners on principle, but you’ve made the top spot for ‘least hated’,” Triss shot him a little smirk as she aggressively stabbed some more pasta, “I told her I’m quite settled and we’re happy for now and to get her nose out of other people’s business- yes I see the irony .”

Eskel forced a bit of a laugh and tried not to bite his lip. He’d been thinking about this since Yen and Renfri’s engagement party. The way Triss looked at him while the couple gushed about how they were so excited to spend the rest of their lives together (and torment some relatives with making it official) had settled in the back of his mind and refused to leave. Every day, he flip-flopped on whether there was a little hope there or if she just thought it was sweet. And every day he berated himself for not bringing it up, but he had never even entertained the idea of marriage. Hell, his main relationship had been a friends-with-benefits arrangement with Geralt, and the few before that had been rocky at best. He wasn’t cut out to be a husband. Certainly not to someone so kind and gentle and fiercely loyal and sharp as Triss. What did he have to offer? A dangerous job and nasty burn scars for their wedding photos?

She must have sensed his hesitation and pushed her pasta over to him, “Eat. I need to keep cooking… and clean the top floor.”

He hooked an arm around her waist as she walked around the little kitchen island they sat at, pulling her close and stealing the keys out of her pocket, “I’ll go get groceries after I clean the top floor. Is the laundry started?”

“You’re too good to me, Teddy Bear,” she sighed, placing a kiss on his forehead.

“Not good enough.”

She frowned, resting her palm over his jaw and searching his eyes, “We’ll come back to that when the inn is ready.”

As he stood, he stole a quick kiss and darted up the stairs, “You’re taking a nap when the inn is ready!”

-

It had all come together in the end. Triss even got some impressed looks and glowing reviews from Yennefer’s family when they arrived. The periwinkle went beautifully with the gardenia Triss had woven through the lattice around the backyard and Eskel had managed to make the moles disappear and patch the grass so even she couldn’t tell where they’d been.

Eskel watched Triss dart around the property, even after her job was done, making sure everyone was comfortable and everything ran smoothly for the girls and as much as he tried to push it down, he was just reminded of how she deserved so much more. More than a scarred, overweight firefighter with a killer therapy bill and a studio apartment that looked more like a hotel room than a home.

As he was watching the different couples swooping around the tiny courtyard dance floor, hands materialized on his shoulders, immediately digging in right where he held tension.

“Now it’s really over,” Triss whispered in his ear.

“Oh? Will you take that nap now?” Eskel shot her a grin over his shoulder as he covered one of her hands with his.

She smiled at him as if he’d said something adorably cute and inaccurate, “I’ll take a dance ?”

Standing up and spinning Triss once before pulling her close to his side, Eskel sighed, “I guess I’ll have to settle for that then.”

Giggling a tad bit deliriously, they made their way onto the dance floor and snuck into a space between the other couples. Eskel did his best to relax and stay in the moment. He took deep breaths and mentally listed little observations about his surroundings, most of which revolved around Triss, and he even tried to distract himself by making some rather suggestive advances, but no matter what he tried, he was still thinking about what she deserved and how it was everything he wasn’t.

Triss rested her hand on his cheek and gave him her trademarked wide-eyed worried look, “Are you alright? Is your knee acting up?”

“M’fine,” he lied, “Just the champagne.”

“Bullshit.”

He should have known she’d call him on it, even in the middle of a wedding she wouldn’t let him get away with anything. Just another reason he wasn’t good enough for her.

Glancing around nervously, Eskel whispered in her ear, “Can we do this later?”

“Absolutely not. You’ve been acting strange for weeks now and it’s making me crazy,” Triss tapped on the point of his chin firmly, calling his attention back to her as they swayed and stepped in a small circle like everyone else.

“Been making me crazy too…” he mumbled, only receiving a furious glare that urged him to continue, “You’re… Triss you’re perfect. I love you more than anything and anyone I’ve ever loved before…”

Tears welled in her eyes as Triss brought them to a standstill, gripping his arms for dear life, “But?”

Eskel couldn’t help tucking her long thin braids behind her ear and caressing her cheek, “But I don’t know why you’re with me. Every time this wedding gets brought up I think about how you deserve someone so much more… whole than I am. Someone who can give you what you want and who doesn’t have a horribly dangerous job and doesn’t look like the Pillsbury doughboy…”

“First off,” Triss started, almost growling as she dragged him off the dance floor and in through the back door to the kitchen, “I thought you were breaking up with me so please lead with what you’re nervous about next time,” Eskel followed, absolutely dumbfounded as he was sat down on a stool like he was in trouble with the principal, “Second, I find your extra weight sexy as hell- no arguments! That is my opinion and it is final . Third- and this one is important- you are the most thoughtful, caring, kind, and gentle person I have ever had the absolute pleasure to share a room with, let alone sleep with. I decided you’re what I wanted a long time ago. No one else has ever told me to take a nap before” she giggled, pausing to hold his face between her hands, “You don’t need to be anything other than you for me to be happy.”

She wiped a tear from his cheek with her knuckles, a fond smile playing on her lips as she drew him in, hugging him tightly so his head rested on her shoulder. His arms wrapped around her waist and squeezed like he was scared she might disappear if he didn’t hold her tight enough.

“Thank you,” He whispered.

“You’re welcome,” Triss whispered back, trailing her nails over his scalp and through his soft hair, “Anytime you need a reminder you tell me. Deal?”

Eskel sniffed and pulled himself back together, leaning back to give Triss a quick kiss, “Deal.”

#trisskel #triss/eskel #triss merigold #she just deserves the world okay #and eskel is fuckin world sized and sweet #eskel #does this homie even have a last name? #the witcher #hallmark au #the witcher hallmark au #june wedding hallmark au #bog event #the witcher fic #triss fic #triss merigold fic #eskel fic #the witcher eskel #the witcher eskel fic #firefighter eskel #innkeeper triss #but modern lol

[devendrasbeard]

Marry me Once, Marry Me twice, Marry Me Six Times

Prompt: Getting Engaged Relationships: Eskel/Jaskier Rating: M Content Warnings: Alcohol, Drunk Sex, Accidental Sugar Daddy Acquisition (through marriage xD) Summary: Five times Jaskier has proposed to Eskel (more or less as a joke) and the one time Eskel has proposed to Jaskier (for real). Coffee shop AU!

Also on ao3!

The first time Jaskier has proposed to Eskel was only a few days after he'd moved to Rivia all the way from Lettenhove.

He reached out to his old college friend, Geralt, who he knew lived in Rivia, and asked him for help with the move. Even though they haven't seen each other in almost ten years, Geralt was more than happy to provide help not only with bringing all of Jaskier's stuff to his new place, but he was also determined to make Jaskier's start in the new city go as smoothly as possible.

And so, he offered Jaskier a job in his coffee shop, so that he didn't have to worry about money right after having moved across the continent. When Jaskier would settle down and think of a plan for his next moves, he'd look for other job opportunities.

It was his third day in "Deja Brew", but Geralt was already convinced he'd made the right decision by hiring his old friend. Jaskier's outgoing personality and clever, witty comments already earned them much higher tips. Little to no customers could withstand Jaskier's charm when he described their cookies and special lattes with flowery words, so their order values also increased immensely.

It was close to lunchtime, so the coffee shop was almost empty. Jaskier was stacking up some paper cups and reorganizing the paper straws by color, with his back to the front door, when he heard the familiar ding of that tiny bell installed just above the door. 

He turned around to greet the new customer but got tongue-tied after seeing the person who entered. It was a very tall man, taller even than Geralt, with shoulders ridiculously broad, gorgeous olive skin and longer dark hair. He was wearing a leather jacket over a red skin-tight t-shirt, and a pair of black jeans. What caught Jaskier's attention were the bits of tattoos poking out of the shirt's v-neck and a piercing on the bridge of the man's nose.

"Fuck me sideways..." Jaskier whispered a tad too loud as the man approached the counter.

"Hey, no swearing in front of the customers!" Geralt shouted from the storage room.

"No worries, I'm no customer," the man smiled softly and winked at Jaskier. "I assume Geralt's around?"

Jaskier pointed to the back door not saying a word, too busy biting his lip and ogling the gorgeous man in front of him.

"Oh, hey, Eskel," Geralt appeared next to Jaskier and greeted the man. "Did something happen? You usually don't come here after work."

"Nah, it's nothing. I left in a rush this morning and forgot my keys. If you could give me yours I'll make dinner tonight," he casually leaned over the counter and Jaskier couldn't help but stare at the chest hair poking out of the shirt and those goddamn tattoos.

"Yeah sure, I'll get them," Geralt replied and patted Jaskier on the shoulder. "By the way, this is my old friend Jaskier, you should remember him from my college stories. Jask, this is my brother Eskel."

Jaskier's eyes widened even more. "Brother?!" He shook his head. "You have a gorgeous, sex-on-legs brother and you never cared to tell me?"

Geralt chuckled. "Of course I told you, back in college. Baby Esk? Little brother did grow up a little in the past ten years."

Jaskier swallowed thickly and eyed Eskel, who was grinning at him with a mysterious spark in his eye. "Gods above," Jaskier sighed. "You're even more perfect than Geralt. I'm sorry, but will you marry me?"

Eskel laughed loudly, a low baritone sound, but so soft on the edges. He patted Jaskier on the shoulder and winked. "I like you, Jaskier. We'll need to get to know each other better if you'd like to marry me, so I'll see you around?"

Eskel left, leaving Jaskier feeling very fuzzy inside, knees wobbly, leaning on the counter to steady himself, and Geralt rolling his eyes at him and asking the gods if it really was a good idea to hire him.

*****

The second time Jaskier has proposed to Eskel was about a month later.

He stayed in "Deja Brew" for a while longer than he and Geralt had planned initially, but they both agreed that Jaskier just fit into that place perfectly. His new ideas for special drinks and clever names for desserts helped Geralt's place make a name for itself. 

Jaskier's newest addition to the menu was the "Unicorn Fart" - a caramel cocoa drink with rainbow colored whipped cream and a ridiculous amount of sprinkles on top. Kids would buy that in bulk and parents would roll their eyes at Jaskier when he'd hand the drinks to the delighted kids while making farting noises.

Eskel was a cook in the vegan diner just across the street and he used to pop in every now and then after work or before his late afternoon shift, grabbing a coffee before he went back to his daily activities.

Jaskier would eye him very carefully and absolutely not as sneakily as he thought. It's been a really long while since Jaskier has been with anyone, and Geralt's brother sparked that long forgotten interest in him. Now and then Jaskier would ask Geralt casually about Eskel - how old he exactly was, what he liked to do in his free time - feeling more comfortable talking to his friend about him, than ask Eskel himself.

One evening Eskel came into the coffee shop right before closing time, carrying two takeaway bags and placing them on the counter. "You need to try this!" he said enthusiastically, crossing his arms on his chest. "I've finally managed to make the perfect dumplings."

Jaskier peeked into the bags with interest and took out two containers with wonton soup and a tray with some kind of stir fry. Eskel grinned at him, his face an example of sheer satisfaction.

Geralt emerged from the storage room and grabbed one soup from Jaskier. "It smells great," he smiled at his brother.

Jaskier eagerly grabbed one wonton with his chopsticks and ate the whole thing at once. It was delicious - hot, juicy, full of tasty vegetables - and his eyes rolled back into his skull as he hummed with contentment. He pointed his chopsticks at Eskel, mouth still full, and let out a few appreciative grunts. "This, my guy, is orgasm in the form of food."

Eskel laughed and scratched the back of his neck. Jaskier didn't miss the way his bicep bulged, his shirt almost bursting at the seams. "I'm glad you like it, I'm really proud of this."

"You should be!" Jaskier put away the soup and reached for the stir fry. "Gods, I would give you foot massages at every occasion if you promised to cook it for me everyday."

"You know where I work, Jaskier, you can come by whenever you like."

"I would much rather marry you and enjoy this orgasmic food in the privacy of our home," Jaskier said lightly, while looking Eskel deep in the eyes at the same time. "Could also use some different kind of orgasms you wouldn't be able to provide me with in your diner."

Geralt choked on his dumpling, looking daggers at Jaskier, while having a coughing fit. "For gods' sake! Can you try being less blunt with your flirting? It's my little brother."

"I don't see any flirting," Eskel laughed, sending Jaskier a wink. "I've only been proposed to twice, that's quite serious, my old guy, don't you think?"

Geralt huffed, rolled his eyes and left for the storage room, hugging the soup container to his chest. "I need to place some orders for tomorrow. Behave, you two."

Jaskier leaned casually on the counter, popping another dumpling in his mouth and grunting with pleasure again. "I've proposed twice, yet I haven't heard an answer from you, Esk."

"I like you, Jaskier, you're more than cute," Eskel winked at him and moved to the door. "Gotta do better than that to get a yes, though. See you around!"

*****

The third time Jaskier has proposed to Eskel was on the night of Belleteyn.

As a promotional stunt, Jaskier offered their coffee shop customers a pair of limited edition coffee drinks - one infused with rose and the other with lavender extract - along with a big heart-shaped cookie. When couples ordered the set he would also give them plastic flower crowns that he'd bought in bulk a few weeks earlier at a super cheap price.

Geralt was amazed at Jaskier's ideas and kept shooting him appreciative looks, as they both worked fast and agile to get all the incoming orders ready. He even gave in and let Jaskier put one of the flower crowns on his silver hair, "for promotional reasons only, of course."

When the last customers for the day left, carrying two coffee cups each and trying not to drop their flower crowns, Eskel walked into the place, his signature grin plastered on his face.

"Ready to get absolutely shitfaced tonight?" he asked, holding up a bottle of red wine. "I like how cute you both look," he smiled pointing at the now crooked flower crowns on their heads.

"You'll get one too," Jaskier chirped, reaching under the counter and placing the wreath on Eskel's head and pursing his lips. "Absolutely gorgeous!"

"Nice!" Eskel smiled. "Are we going to see the parade or do you guys want to get straight down to business?"

"And by 'business' you mean...?" Jaskier leaned forward on the counter, grinning at Eskel, completely disregarding Geralt's exasperated huff. Jaskier was like a horny, hyperactive little puppy that Geralt had absolutely no control over. 

"It's up to you, Jaskier," Eskel smiled, absolutely unfazed by his friend's innuendos. "Geralt and I have seen the parade more than a dozen times, so if you'd rather hit the pubs already, then I'm game."

"Let's hit the pubs then," Jaskier commanded. "But the flower crowns stay on!"

A few hours and three visited pubs later, Geralt has called it a day and went home, leaving Jaskier and Eskel sitting alone at the bar, telling them to not do anything stupid while he's gone. 

"Sigh, Eskel, you're really handsome," Jaskier whispered, propping his chin on his hands.

"Did you just say 'sigh' out loud instead of actually sighing?" Eskel chuckled.

"I might have," Jaskier tried for a seductive smile. "You're still handsome." He reached out to pat Eskel's cheek, but miscalculated the distance and launched forward, his hand landing on Eskel's thigh and his forehead on Eskel's chest.

"Okay, how shitfaced are we?" Eskel asked, helping Jaskier find his balance.

"Well, I'm pretty hammered for sure. Time to go home?"

"Can I walk you home?" Eskel asked, still holding Jaskier's arms in his grip.

"Only if you stay the night," Jaskier went for a wink but ended up closing both his eyes several times. 

"You're absolutely not subtle while flirting," Eskel laughed, leaning forward and almost bumping their foreheads. "But you're incredibly cute and I'm terribly horny, so I'll take it."

"Talk about subtle," Jaskier snickered.

Before he could find another witty comeback in his alcohol-dazed mind, Eskel's lips were on his. They were soft and plush and very wet, and the kiss caught Jaskier off guard. He wrapped his hands around Eskel's neck and leaned into the kiss.

"Hey, no tongue wrestling at the bar!" the bartender swatted them with his towel. They laughed softly, muttering out apologies and left the pub, hips bumping against each other and legs wobbly.

They stumbled into Jaskier's apartment, Jaskier hugging Eskel's waist, Eskel's arm slumped over Jaskier's shoulder, laughing at something they have long forgotten about.

Jaskier pushed Eskel against the wall as soon as he closed the door behind them. "Okay, are we doing this because we're super drunk, super horny, or do you really really reallyyyyy fancy me?" he asked, propping his arm against the wall and looking up at Eskel's face.

"I like you Jaskier," Eskel said firmly, giving him a quick kiss. "And I'm also super horny, so I hope that's enough a reason for you?"

"Your hot-ass... ass is reason enough for me," Jaskier chuckled and pulled Eskel in for a kiss. Eskel was warm on his lips and his hot tongue in Jaskier's mouth was already driving him crazy.

"Bedroom," Eskel panted. "Quick, before we pass out from all the tequila shots we had tonight."

So Jaskier laid back comfortably on the bed, having already dropped his shirt and pants and he watched Eskel undress. Eskel didn't waste any time, pulling his shirt off in one swift motion and sliding his pants off together with his boxer shorts.

"What the fuck? What the... Shit, fuck, Eskel?!" Jaskier sat up on the bed, eyes wide with wonder.

"You okay, Jask?" Eskel turned to him, brows furrowed with worry.

"You walk around carrying this marvel of a dick in your pants and you didn't tell me?!" Jaskier gasped, his voice reaching incredibly high notes.

"When do you think would be the right time to tell you?" Eskel laughed, crawling up the bed and into Jaskier's arms. "'Yo, I'm Eskel, wanna see my marvelous cock?' This doesn't usually work out well."

"I usually don't propose to people immediately after seeing them, so I guess this could've actually worked," Jaskier replied with a seductive wink, his hands already roaming across Eskel's tattooed chest. His eyes, however, were fixed at Eskel's cock. "Gods, dick so bomb I will really have to marry you! I want to feel that between my legs every day for the rest of my life!"

"Watch out what you wish for," Eskel whispered in his ear, causing goosebumps on Jaskier's skin. "Or you might actually get it."

*****

The fourth time Jaskier has proposed to Eskel was when he caught a nasty cold in the middle of summer.

Jaskier was sitting on the couch, watching reruns of "The Great Cintran Bake Off", a cup of now cold tea in his hands. He scolded himself for having worn flip flops to work the other day - a heavy rain had caught him when he was going home in the night and he was soaking wet when he had finally reached his place. The next day he woke up with a throbbing headache and runny nose and had to call in sick.

There was a knock on the door, but Jaskier waved it off. If it was the postman, he'd leave the parcel or letter at the door, and Jaskier didn't expect anyone else.

A moment later there was another, louder knock, followed by Eskel's soft baritone voice. "Jaskier, are you home? It's me."

Jaskier slipped off the couch, wrapped a blanket around his shoulders and shuffled to the door to open it.

"Aww man, you look like shit," Eskel said when Jaskier let him in.

"Good to see you too, Eskel," Jaskier replied weakly and shuffled back to his living room to plop back on the couch.

"Geralt has told me you called in sick and asked me to come over and check up on you," Eskel followed him into the living room, placing takeaway bags on the table next to the couch. He put a hand on Jaskier's forehead, worrying his lip between his teeth. "Good thing I have the whole day off. Someone needs to take care of you."

"I'll be fine," Jaskier mumbled from under the blanket.

"What did you eat today?" Eskel asked, eyeing the half empty tea cup on the table.

"Some Aspirin. Butter toast."

"Yeah, thought so," Eskel shot him a condescending look and grabbed the takeout bags. "That's why I came prepared."

He pulled out a container of hot chicken soup and another one with gyoza dumplings. He helped Jaskier sit up and wrapped the blanket around Jaskier's shoulders, so that he could eat comfortably on the couch.

"The chicken soup is what my grandma used to make whenever we were sick. She taught me how to prepare it," Eskel said with a hint of pride. "Eat it hot, you'll feel better in no time."

Jaskier ate a few spoons of the hot broth - it was deliciously salty, with lots of carrots, onions and noodles. He felt a pleasurable warmth already spreading around his stomach and he hummed softly. "Thank you, it's delicious."

"Now, eat it all up and go to bed. You need sleep," Eskel rubbed his back and Jaskier leaned in to rest his head on Eskel's shoulder. "I'll look after you today."

"You don't have to," Jaskier looked up at him, eyes fogged. "I'll take a nap and will be fine. No need to stay around and waste your day off work on me."

Eskel cleared his throat before placing a quick kiss on Jaskier's forehead. "It's... It's not a waste of time to be around you." He lowered his gaze and fixed his eyes on the floor. "You're my friend."

"... with benefits," Jaskier chuckled, then got a coughing fit. "Sorry."

"Let's get you to bed," Eskel commanded with a light smile. "You need to sleep for the soup to work its wonders."

Jaskier slept for over four hours. He was woken up by a warm hand on his forehead - Eskel checking his temperature. He sat up with a groan, but he was relieved to find that his head didn't hurt anymore.

Eskel put a tray with a bowl of steamy hot dumplings in Jaskier's lap and sat next to him on the edge of the bed. "Time for lunch," he smiled. "I also made you some ginger tea with honey - it's much better for your health than that generic supermarket shit you had earlier."

"I don't know if I should thank you or feel fucking offended," Jaskier narrowed his eyes. He then tried one of the gyozas and let out an appreciative hum. "Okay, I've decided to thank you, cause these are fucking delicious! Did you made them yourself?"

Eskel nodded with a smile.

"Gods, I'm so lucky to have you," Jaskier whispered between bites. "Fucking handsome, so caring, great cook, dick so bomb it leaves me breathless... Eskel, I'm going to-"

"Yes, I know, you will ask me to marry you," Eskel cut him off, letting out a breathy laugh.

"I wanted to offer you a blowjob once I get better," Jaskier retorted with a grin. "But marrying you would come with the same benefits, so I guess I should actually ask you to marry me one day."

"Who knows," Eskel replied, eyes unfocused and looking at the wall with a soft smile. "Maybe one day I will actually accept your crazy proposal. Now finish your food and let me get you some more Aspirin."

*****

The fifth time Jaskier has proposed to Eskel was when Eskel saved his life.

It was a chilly night at the beginning of autumn. Geralt has left earlier to run some errands and Jaskier was closing up the coffee shop by himself. Having worked there for over half a year now, he knew exactly what to do and it didn't bother him to be left alone for the last hour of work every now and then. He closed the front door, swept the floors, counted the money and put it away into the little safe in their back room. He turned off all the lights and went out, closing the back door behind him.

"Your wallet and phone, pretty boy," he heard a hoarse voice behind his back. 

He turned around to see a man, hiding his face under a big hood, both hands kept hidden in the hoodie's vast pockets. Jaskier shook himself out of the initial shock and looked closer at the person - it wasn't a man, more a teenager, sixteen years old at best. He was grinning awfully at Jaskier, eyes mad and darting, probably on drugs.

"Okay, let's take it easy," Jaskier held his hands up, shivering a little. "I don't think you want to do this."

"Shut the fuck up! Wallet." The guy moved closer to Jaskier pulling a small knife out of his pocket. 

Jaskier instinctively scooted back, his back bumping painfully against the cold door of the coffee shop. This was getting serious and he was sure even his wit wouldn't help him get out of the situation. He looked at the knife's blade shining in the weak light of the few street lamps, took a quick glance at the guy's wild eyes and gritted teeth - he was definitely under some substance's influence, so Jaskier convinced himself that arguing with the guy or trying to talk some reason into him would make no sense. He exhaled slowly, trying not to shake too much while still eyeing the sharp blade in the guy's hand. He tried looking around without acting too obvious - but there was nobody in the street.

"Okay, I'm gonna reach into my pocket and take my wallet out," Jaskier said weakly, trying to sound as calm as possible. "No need to use the knife, okay?"

"Don't tell me what to do!" the guy shouted at him, waving the knife around. 

Jaskier looked up and prayed silently to the gods. He hoped that as soon as he'd handed the guy his stuff, he'd be gone and leave him alone. All he heard was the annoying sound of his teeth clicking and his rushed heartbeat ringing in his ears.

"Leave him alone!" Jaskier heard a growl coming from the end of the alleyway. Before Jaskier could recognise Eskel in the dark figure, he rushed at the robber, knocking him down. The guy fell on his back, losing the knife and groaning painfully. He scrambled to his feet and launched at Eskel, clearly going for a fight. Jaskier watched him lose his balance and fall on his back again, after Eskel had punched him straight in the face. "Get the fuck out of here!" Eskel's voice was dark and threatening, nothing alike the soft baritone Jaskier was used to. Eskel kicked the guy once, before Jaskier grabbed his arm and pulled him away.

"It's okay, Esk," he said quietly. "I'm okay. It's okay."

"If I ever see you around here again, I swear to god..." Eskel started, teeth gritted and jaw clenched. He watched as the guy got up as quickly as he could and limped away, leaving him panting and with a very scared Jaskier clinging to his arm.

Jaskier let out a deep breath, steadying himself on Eskel's arm. Eskel turned to him and grabbed him in a tight embrace. "I'm okay, I'm okay," Jaskier kept repeating, even though his legs felt weak and his teeth were still clicking a little.

"Gods, I'm so glad nothing happened to you," Eskel breathed and kissed Jaskier's forehead. Then he kissed his cheeks and left a soft kiss on Jaskier's lips. He was shaking a little too. "If he'd hurt you, I swear to god..."

Jaskier put a finger on his lips to shut him up. "Thank you, Eskel. I'm so glad you were here."

Eskel huffed. "Good thing I came over... Wanted to ask you to go out and grab a beer with me, but now..." he gestured around, while giving Jaskier a worried look.

"Eskel," Jaskier hugged him, hiding his face in Eskel's broad chest. He felt the stress leave him, as Eskel's strong hands rubbed circles on his back. He let out another deep breath, held back the tears prickling at his eyes, smiled faintly. "You saved my life, quite literally. So, since I now owe you my life, will you marry me?"

"Ahh, there it is," Eskel let out a breathy laugh, placing another kiss on Jaskier's forehead. "I will take you out tonight first."

*****

And then Eskel has proposed to Jaskier.

"Hey, Jaskier," Geralt looked up from the delivery boxes and greeted him when he entered their coffee shop. "Before you change into your work clothes, can you go over to Eskel's diner and pick up a parcel for me? He said he grabbed it for me this morning."

"Sure thing," Jaskier replied, putting his jacket back on. "Be back in ten."

"Yeah," Geralt nodded towards him with a soft smile tugging at his lips. "No rush."

When Jaskier entered the diner, Eskel greeted him at the door and took his work apron off, throwing it to a coworker. "Good to see you, Jaskier," he said eagerly.

"Hi, Geralt said I was supposed to pick something from you for him?"

"Uh yeah... I don't have it," Eskel grinned with an apologetic look on his face, rubbing the back of his neck. "But you can come with me, I have something to show you."

"How long is it gonna take?" Jaskier hesitated at the door. "Told Geralt I'll be back in a minute."

"You don't really have to," Eskel smiled at him. "Asked Geralt for a day off for you today, he's already got someone to cover today's shift for you."

Jaskier propped his hands on his hips and eyed Eskel suspiciously. "Okay, what is going on?"

"Can't tell ya," Eskel reached out and grabbed Jaskier's hand. "Come with me."

They strolled slowly through the city's streets. Eskel was holding Jaskier's hand all the time, rubbing small circles on it with his thumb every now and then. Jaskier looked down at their intertwined fingers and smiled. Eskel's hand was strong and warm, his olive skin soft under Jaskier's touch.

"How come your skin and your hair are so much darker than Geralt's?" he wondered aloud.

"Geralt's a weirdo," Eskel blurted out without thinking, causing Jaskier to chuckle. "Also, he's old."

"Mind you, I'm the same age as him," Jaskier stuck his tongue out.

"Technically, yes. But you're different," Eskel smiled. "When I'm around you, I feel like you're more my age, while Geralt is already like our dad."

"I'm really glad he doesn't hear us now," Jaskier laughed, squeezing Eskel's hand tightly. "Okay, where are you taking me and what is going on?"

"Ah, we're here," Eskel stopped them. "You'll find everything out soon enough."

Jaskier took a look at the heavy steel gate they found themselves in front of. Botanical garden. Jaskier has always wanted to go there but never found the time to do so. He smiled fondly at Eskel and squeezed his hand. So it was a surprise date, a nice walk through the narrow paths between colorful flowerbeds. There were little to no people, since it was a weekday before noon - everyone was either at work or in school and they could enjoy their time together in privacy. A fuzzy heat spread through his chest and he gave Eskel a wide smile. "Thank you for bringing me here, I love it."

"You ain't seen nothing yet," Eskel grinned, grabbed Jaskier's hand and led him inside.

After a while of walking around, Eskel sat Jaskier on a secluded bench in front of a weeping willow tree. On both sides of the bench were flowerbeds of blooming autumn flowers - cyclamens, russian sage, and marigolds. Jaskier turned his face to the sun, letting it warm his skin, and inhaled the mix of strong flowery scents. "It's beautiful," he sighed. "But what's the occasion? It's neither my birthday nor yours... So what's the deal here?"

In reply, Eskel grabbed Jaskier's face and pulled him into a passionate kiss. His lips were warm and plush and so soft on Jaskier's and Jaskier immediately sunk into the sensation, slumping in Eskel's arms. Eskel was holding Jaskier's face firmly, kissing Jaskier so deeply, hungrily, as if he was afraid Jaskier would never want to kiss him again. But Jaskier leaned into the kiss, pressing his body flush to Eskel's, wrapping his arms around his broad shoulders, opening his mouth to welcome him.

"Jaskier, listen," Eskel grabbed his hand and exhaled deeply, when they parted their lips. "I know we're not technically together, like we never put the 'boyfriends' label on ourselves, but I feel that we have a strong connection going on between us anyway. And I know that you're much older than me, but I don't really mind, and if you don't mind, then..." He stopped for a moment, worrying his lip between his teeth, trying to find the right words.

Jaskier stared at him with interest and a hint of worry, looking between their intertwined fingers and Eskel's face.

"I've never met anyone like you, Jaskier," Eskel continued, squeezing Jaskier's hand between his strong fingers. "You're funny and smart, you're like sunshine embodied. You're so beautiful and so confident in who you are and I admire you and... I love you."

Jaskier felt tears already brimming at the corners of his eyes and he exhaled deeply, trying not to burst out crying at the very moment. But then Eskel slid down from the bench and got on one knee, causing Jaskier to gasp loudly.

"Marry me, Jaskier," Eskel said, expression serious but eyes hopeful. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small dark blue box, and pressed it into Jaskier's hands. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you. You might think I'm crazy but I've really thought it through and if you're ready to take that leap of faith with me, then I'll be the happiest person in the world."

"You mean it." Jaskier's voice was as quiet as a whisper, as he looked at the little box in his hands and then at Eskel's face. "You really want this?"

Eskel nodded, his throat too tight to speak. He squeezed Jaskier's hands between his a little bit tighter.

Jaskier opened the box. He found a small simple ring in white gold inside, holding a tiny aquamarine at the top. He let out a whimper, before pulling the ring out and placing it on his finger. He pulled Eskel up from his knees and into a kiss. "I knew from day one we're gonna end up like this!"

-----

@witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo

#witcher rarepair summer bingo #jaskel #jaskier x eskel #eskel x jaskier #the witcher fic #jaskier #eskel #*borat voice* i hope you like

[limerental]

ficletvember - day 6 & 7

yenralt/geraskefer - prompt: youtuber jaskier and neighbors yenralt, also voyeur, also bad awkward sex

Several nights after measuring out a decisive course of action, circumstances aligned to set their plan in motion.

The evening had been progressing comfortably. Geralt had tried out a low fat carbonara that sure was pasta at least and even sheepishly lit a little thin candle on their kitchen island before he placed her plate before her. Afterward, she washed the dishes while Geralt dried, nearly dropping a plate when halfway through she gave into the impulse to curl her soapy fingers around his waist and kissed

Dinner sorted, they had settled in their own comfortable chairs in the warm living room, Yennefer cracking open a worn paperback mystery novel and Geralt rustling in his knitting basket. She had the thought while she settled in how bizarre it was to find herself in the sort of life that looked like this. She allowed herself a fond smile at the sight of her husband with his little reading glasses askew on his nose as he double-checked his pattern.

And that was when it began.

The livestream.

“Hey what is UP, my little darlings!” called a barely-muffled voice through the wall of the adjacent apartment. “Yours truly will be live for the next few hours--” A high-pitched squeal rising into a falsetto note. “Please please send song requests to my Twitter at dandy underscore lion and I will sing them just terribly. My aim is to sing them as HORRENDOUSLY as possible!”

Geralt and Yennefer tensed in their chairs, staring at one another as a brief silence fell on the other side of the wall. Yennefer sat upright in her chair, fingers curled white around the armrests and raised a single, perfect eyebrow. Geralt hesitated, swallowing hard, and nodded.

At once, their plan was set in motion, Geralt and Yennefer standing in sync and moving to the wall they shared with their obnoxious neighbor.

Said obnoxious neighbor had launched into a segment where he attempted to sing a greeting for every new viewer on the stream.

At the wall, they paused, listening a moment.

Yennefer knew based on reconnaissance that the idiot’s computer setup lurked directly on the opposite side of this wall in their living room. She also knew that he often wore a headset for lifestreaming but not the noise-cancelling sort. Geralt’s first suggestion had been simply to invest in a pair of those for their evenings at home, but Yennefer had stomped that idea to death at once. She would not be made to cow to an obnoxious little man who made frequent penis jokes in song form.

She had suggested a different plan, perhaps a juvenile one, perhaps simply stooping to the bastard’s level, but it was well past the planning stage now. There was nothing else for it.

Geralt looked wary, his hands open at his sides and twitching to reach for her, and Yennefer took pity on him and touched his hands to bring them to her breasts.

She waited on another brief lull in the racket next door.

“Oh Geralt,” she breathed, voice pitched louder than necessary. “Whatever has come over you?”

Poor Geralt stood looking at her a bit too long, forgetting the scrip they had practiced, squishing absently at her breasts, so Yennefer took pity on him and leaned to tweak his nipple through his shirt.

“Yen,” he gasped in genuine affront, rubbing at his sore tit. Then stopped, frowning, as he seemed to remember there was something he was meant to be saying. He coughed. “Yennefer... oh my. Your... breasts.”

Clearly, she had vastly overestimated Geralt’s ability to hold it together in non-emergent situations. This man dove into burning buildings for a living for crying out loud. But faced with a little challenge like engaging in faux loud sex to wreck the neighbor’s livestream, his resolve crumbled.

Nothing for it. Yennefer would have to engage in a change of strategy.

Pressing a hand to Geralt’s bicep, she nudged him around easily, shuffling, following her lead so willingly. It warmed her how pliant he was in her hands, how trusting. She pulled and pushed and positioned until he was right where she wanted him, arms up and braced against the wall, head dropping forward between them, legs spread slightly. Pinning her husband against the wall, Yennefer leaned her pelvis flush to the curve of his ass and pressed a little kiss between the flex of his shoulderblades.

“Geralt,” she said softly, feeling the tension of his body, waiting on her, and then, louder, intending to be overheard, “oh my, you’ve been such a naughty little boy this evening.”

Geralt shivered visibly, but it took her a moment to realize it was a shudder of laughter, his lips pursed against a show of mirth. He looked back over his shoulder at her, eyebrow raised in question. Yennefer pouted. Yes, that had been a horrible line, but the neighbor was a horrible--

“Don’t give me that look,” she spat. “I’m doing this for your own good.”

And smacked him sharply on the bottom.

Geralt groaned and flinched forward against the wall. Yennefer shook her stinging palm and winced.

“Keep count for Daddy,” she said loudly, and Geralt snorted. She promptly smacked him again, harder.

“One,” he said flatly.

“With a bit more enthusiasm,” she insisted, emphasizing each word with a rise in volume and a spank. Dear god before the idiot on the other side of the wall started singing christmas songs in a minor key again.

“Two,” grunted Geralt. “Three.”

“Louder,” she said. Her hand hurt. “I can’t hear you.”

“Four!”

The increased volume mostly served to reveal how close Geralt was to breaking down into hysterical laughter, his voice breaking.

“This isn’t very amusing,” said Yennefer coolly. “You can do better than that.”

He met her eye over his shoulder, face twitching mercilessly.

“Sorry, I’ll try harder, Daddy.”

Hurriedly, she reached to clamp her hand around his mouth to quiet his giggling.

“Shut up,” she said. “Or it’s ten more spankies. Shit.”

Spankies? her husband mouthed against her palm, quivering. She dropped her head against his back, mouth tensed in a thin line. This plan was going to work goddamn it. This was going to--

She paused, realizing suddenly what was lacking from the background of said miserable affair.

Beyond the wall, silence. Not a peep.

Could it be? Had they effectively encouraged the idiot to end his livestream early?

Yennefer shifted away from Geralt, letting him drop his hands to his sides, and together they leaned to press close to the wall. They looked at one another, ears against the drywall. Had their plan really worked so easily?

Quiet. Peaceful and blessed silence.

But then.

“Ah, they’ve gone quiet,” said the idiot neighbor. There was another sound, something wet and rhythmic and unmistakable. Yennefer watched a blush pink Geralt’s cheeks.

“Well, that’s a bummer.” Was he talking to himself while he-- “Guess I can continue the little impromptu show though, my darlings.”

A breathy moan. The sound of a bottle being uncapped. Rapid tapping on a keyboard.

“Oh fuck,” groaned the neighbor. “You lot are horny little devils, truly. No, no, I’m not going to knock on their door I value my life and limbs.”

What the fuck, Geralt mouthed, and Yennefer grimaced.

“That’s um-- no, no, don’t double dog dare me, that doesn’t count in this situation. No it does not-- please don’t send tips, that will not persuade me to-- You realize I will not be streaming over there if I-- ah, oh dear. Fine, fine! Goodnight for now, little darlings. Hang tight.”

A low curse on the other side of the wall, a scraping noise as a chair pushed back.

Geralt and Yennefer stared at one another, holding their breath. This evening had somehow gone tits up in more alarming ways than usual.

“Geralt,” Yennefer whispered, the wall cool against her cheek. “I don’t think he’s streaming on Youtube. I don’t think--”

“No,” said Geralt, brow creased. “He asked me to subscribe the other day on um... OnlyFans?”

“Ger-alt. Why didn’t you tell--”

At the front door of their apartment, a humble knock.

#ficletvember #geraskier #yenralt #this is so stupid ialksjdf;asldkjf #<3

[king-finnigan]

5 times Jaskier got sick and 1 time Geralt did

As part of my 500 followers celebration! Masterlist!

CW: being sick, vomiting

***

I.

He sneezes, and Geralt looks at him with narrowed eyes. “Are you getting sick?”

Jaskier scoffs, shakes his head, and continues prodding at the fire. “No.” He sneezes again. “Okay, maybe.”

“Hmm.”

He frowns. “Ooh, now that’s a ‘hmm’ I haven’t heard before. What does it mean?”

Geralt rolls his eyes and looks away, as Jaskier sneezes again. “It means I’m not going to take care of you if you get sick.”

Jaskier sneezes again. “Yeah, I figured that much.” He rubs at his eyes, which are slightly swollen from all the sneezing. “I’ll just firmly tell my body not to get sick, then. That always works.”

“Hmm.” He recognizes that one as a slightly amused ‘hmm’, and he smiles in triumph. Over the past few years, it has become a bit of a personal challenge to make Geralt laugh or smile as much as possible, and, while low on the tier list of ‘how amused is Geralt of Rivia?’, an amused ‘hmm’ is better than nothing. At least it’s better than an unamused ‘hmm’.

Like the one he gets, now, when he suddenly dissolves into a bout of coughing. “It’s fine,” he chokes out when he finally regains his breath. “Not getting sick.”

“We’re stopping at the next inn. You’ll stay there until you get better, and I’ll get some contracts.”

He wants to whine, tell Geralt he’s fine and he’s coming along with these contracts, but when he starts coughing again, he can’t help but admit that the Witcher is right. Though, when Geralt leaves him behind at the inn the next day, he finds himself wishing Geralt would stay.

 II.

He’s performing ‘Toss a Coin’ when he sneezes. The audience laughs, and he plays it off as a joke, making fun of himself, so the audience won’t, before he continues with his song. After he’s done, he graciously accepts his payment and a pint of ale, before he saunters over to the corner of the tavern, sitting down opposite Geralt.

“You sneezed,” is the first thing the Witcher says to him.

“Hello, Jaskier, what a lovely performance, Jaskier, thank you for paying for our dinner tonight, Jaskier,” he says in a mock-gruff voice. He sighs, rolls his eyes. “Really, Geralt, we talked about your conversational skills.”

“You sneezed.”

He dramatically lifts his hands. “So what? People sneeze all the time! It’s dusty in here, Witcher.”

“Your voice is rough.”

“Yes, that’s what you get for performing for three hours straight. You’re welcome, by the way.” He plonks his full coin pouch on the table, gesturing at it, eyebrows in his hairline.

“You’re snotty.”

“Well, now you’re just being downright insulting, Geralt. After all these years of me traveling by your side, and you have the audacity-“

“Jaskier. I can tell you’re getting sick.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not.”

“It’s fine.”

Geralt looks at him, blinking slowly, almost lazily. His expression is almost bored, but Jaskier can tell from the little muscle that’s pulling at his lips, that the Witcher is getting annoyed. “Hmm.” Now that’s an ‘I don’t believe you for shit but I’m tired of arguing’-hmm, he can tell.

“Alright, maybe it’s not fine.” He points at Geralt. “But don’t you dare leave me at an inn again, like last time.”

“Why not?”

Cause it hurt my feelings, and I would love for you to take care of me when I’m sick. “I don’t want to miss out on any contracts and potential inspiration.”

“Hmm.” An ‘I can tell you’re lying’-hmm.

He simply changes the subject, for now, and hopes he doesn’t get sick in the next couple of days. He thanks all his lucky stars when he doesn’t.

 III.

He tries to keep quiet as he leans one hand against the tree, the other on his stomach as he retches, emptying the contents of his stomach in the leaves. He must’ve eaten something bad, or caught a stomach bug. He decides it doesn’t really matter, though, as another wave of nausea rolls over him. He gags again, trying to not make any sound.

Of course, it doesn’t work, and he soon hears Geralt’s voice behind him. “Jaskier.”

He closes his eyes, trying to keep down the bile that rises in his throat. “I’m fine.” The clipped and strained sound of his voice begs to differ.

“Hmm.” A ‘not even Roach would believe that’-hmm. Then: “Are you done?”

He holds up a finger, chokes down one last gag, before he stands up straight, wiping his mouth with a handkerchief. “I’m fine, let’s go.”

He turns around to find Geralt frowning at him, confused. “No.”

“What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“No. We’re not going anywhere but back to camp.”

He sighs. “I’m fine! We can go to the next town, don’t worry about it.”

“Hmm.” He narrows his eyes. Once again a ‘hmm’ he can’t identify. Strange. “Come on, Jaskier.”

He sighs, but follows Geralt back to camp, laying down on his bedroll when the Witcher motions at it. He does have to admit, laying down makes him feel a lot better, and pretty soon he finds himself dozing off to the rhythmic sound of Geralt sharpening his blades.

When he wakes in the morning, the Witcher gives him a piece of… some sort of root. “Ginger,” the Witcher explains roughly. “Helps.”

Jaskier shrugs and eats it. It doesn’t taste entirely pleasant, but it does make him feel better, and by midday, he’s ready to set out on the road again.

 IV.

“You’re limping.”

Jaskier rolls his eyes. “No, I’m not.”

“Hmm.” Another ‘I don’t believe you’-hmm. “What’s wrong with your leg?”

Jaskier stops walking when he no longer hears Roach’s hooves on the dusty path behind him, and he turns around. “Nothing! It’s really fine, there’s nothing going on. I appreciate you worrying, though, it’s very endearing.”

“Jaskier.”

He sighs, then shrugs. “Okay, maybe I got a cut on my leg last week that healed badly. So what? I assure you I’m perfectly fine, Witcher.” He starts stammering when Geralt dismounts Roach, stalking towards him. “A- and there is absolutely no reason for you to walk towards me, in- in a vaguely threatening manner- Geralt!”

He lets out an angry huff when the Witcher bends down, yanking the leg of his breeches up. “Hmm.” An ‘I’m very angry right now, but not at you’-hmm. “It’s infected.”

He shrugs again, pointedly looking everywhere but the reddened skin that surrounds the cut. “It’s fine. Nothing to worry about, r-really, and-“

He scrunches his face in confusion when Geralt lays a hand against his forehead. “You’ve got a fever. Get on Roach.”

“Geralt, as much as I have longed for you to say those three words for the past ten years, I assure you I’m perfectly fine.”

“Get. On. Roach.”

He holds his hands up in defeat. “Alright, alright! Melitele’s tits, Geralt, if I’d known you’d kick up such a fuss over a simple flesh wound, I would’ve been more careful.”

“Hmm. You should be.”

He sighs, rolls his eyes, as he climbs on Roach. Geralt climbs on the horse behind him, and Jaskier tries to fight the furious blush that starts spreading across his cheeks at the feeling of Geralt’s chest against his back. They set out to the nearest town, where the Witcher gets a room at the inn and drags him to the herbalist for something against the infection.

The ointment the old lady gives them works wonders, and within two days, the infection has cleared.

 V.

It’s hard to breathe. Harder to move. Opening his eyes for more than two seconds isn’t even an option, anymore, and every time he does manage to pry his eyelids apart, the world is swimming around him, making bile rise in his throat. He’s hot. No- he’s cold. But now he’s hot again, and he’s sweating, but he’s also shivering, and good gods, what did he do to deserve this?

He sighs when he feels something cold and wet and rough against his forehead, seeping away some of the heat. He doesn’t know whether the droplet that slides down the side of his head is sweat or water, but he decides it doesn’t matter when a bout of coughing wracks through his body.

He’s tired, he’s so bloody tired, but he can’t fall asleep when the temperature keeps changing from hot to cold to hot again, when his lungs keep constricting in his chest pathetically, making him cough and wheeze, desperate for any gulp of air he manages to suck in. The shivering becomes uncontrollable, unbearable, even though he’s sweating, still. He finally manages to pry open his eyes, finding the room around him blurry and dark. He looks around, desperate for anything recognizable, anything that doesn’t give him the feeling that he’s floating in a vast ocean of his own goddamn sweat. Finally, he finds something silver, to his right.

“Geralt,” he manages to croak out, desperately gasping for breath soon afterwards.

“I’m here.” He could cry at that familiar voice, and he might actually be, when he feels another droplet slide down the side of his head.

“I feel like shit.”

“Hmm.” And amused ‘hmm’. But slightly worried as well. “Go to sleep, Jaskier.”

“It hurts.” It does. Everything hurts. His muscles hurt, his lungs hurt, his head hurts, his eyes hurt. It fucking hurts.

Someone wipes his sweaty hair away from his forehead, knuckles trailing down his cheek lightly, and he figures someone else must be in the room because Geralt would never be this gentle with him. It’s already a bloody miracle he’s still here, really. “I know, Jaskier. I know. Try to sleep. You’ll feel better when you wake up.”

“Will you be there? When I wake up?”

“Hmm.” That’s a ‘yes’-hmm.

He sighs, his lungs aching. “Good. Cause I don’t want to wake up at all if you’re not there.” His eyes drift closed again, and he finds himself slipping into unconsciousness.

---

When he wakes up, he finds Geralt next to the bed, stuffed into an entirely too small chair, asleep. No way the position he’s in is comfortable – his neck craned at an awkward angle, his back barely supported by the hard wood. But he’s there, just as he had promised to Jaskier.

The bard smiles, and reaches out, pushing at Geralt’s knee. The Witcher wakes, amber eyes widening when he sees Jaskier. He immediately bends forward, laying his hand against Jaskier’s forehead, eyes studying his face. “How are you feeling?”

“A bit better.” He smiles. “You’re here.”

“I told you I would be.”

He laughs softly, eyes drifting closed again, sleep pulling at him limbs. “That, you did.” He shivers, the heat of the fever no longer keeping him warm. “Geralt, I’m cold.”

“There are no more blankets.”

He pouts, reaches out, eyes still closed. “You’re warm.”

He hears a long-suffering sigh, then the creaking of the chair. Footsteps across the room. He feels the dip of the bed behind him, feels strong arms closing around him, and he sighs in content, before frowning. “Won’t you get sick?”

“Witchers don’t get sick.”

“Okay,” he whispers, before falling asleep in Geralt’s arms.

---

By the time they finally leave the inn, several days later, neither of them has mentioned what happened, and Jaskier doubts either of them will.

 + I

He doesn’t think much of it when Geralt coughs a few times. He does find it strange when it happens more and more in the next few days. He grows suspicious when a fine sheen of sweat appears on the Witcher’s forehead, even if he says he’s fine and tells Jaskier to stop fussing over him like that, he’s just hot, is all. He’s had enough when red spots start to litter Geralt’s skin.

He forces the Witcher to go to an inn, and he’s glad he did, by the time they reach it. Geralt’s hunched over Roach’s neck, sweat dripping from his brow, his skin so spotted with red he almost looks sunburnt. Jaskier barely manages to get him up the stairs, and immediately drops him on the bed, where Geralt lays very still, staring up at the wooden ceiling, breathing heavily.

Jaskier helps him out of his armour, uncovering more and more red spots as he works his way down to Geralt’s boots.

“I’m fine,” Geralt rasps to him. He doesn’t believe it for shit.

“Yeah, no you’re not, Witcher. Looks like you’ve got yourself some measles.”

Geralt scoffs, though it sounds more like two pieces of sandpaper rubbed together. “Witchers don’t get measles.”

Jaskier rolls his eyes, taking a washcloth, wetting it with some water from his waterskin. “Well, you did, so I suggest you change your views on that, Geralt.” He sits down on the side of the bed, gently laying the washcloth over Geralt’s brow, softly pressing it down. “You’re burning up,” he whispers.

“It’s fine.”

He smiles. “Go to sleep, Geralt. Get some rest.”

The Witcher sighs. “Hmm.” A ‘fine, alright, I’ll listen’-hmm. “I’m cold.”

Jaskier laughs softly, climbing over Geralt, laying down on his other side, hugging him to his chest. “Better?”

Geralt shakes his head frantically, weakly pushing at him – the fever’s clearly already taking a toll on him. “You’ll get sick,” he rasps.

“I had the measles as a kid. I’ll be fine, Witcher.”

“Hmm.” A content ‘hmm’. Then, suddenly: “Thank you, Jaskier. I love you.”

Geralt’s breathing evens out, as Jaskier pushes himself up on one elbow, looking down on his Witcher. Geralt is fast asleep, breathing deep and steady, face relaxed from its eternal frown. Jaskier smiles, laying down again, pulling his Witcher closer. “I love you too,” he whispers. Of course, Geralt doesn’t hear him, but he’ll say it again when he wakes up.

He’ll say it a million times if he has to – and he would mean it every time.

#the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #drabble #500 followers celebration #5 + 1 things