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bambirex · 7 months

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It's A Game We Play: Chapter 5

Pairings: Geraskier, Yennskier, Radskier

Characters: Jaskier, Geralt of Rivia, Yennefer of Vengerberg, Radovid, original female characters, Essi Daven, Priscilla, Ciri of Cintra, Valdo Marx

Additional tags: inspired by Mamma Mia! (movies), crack, alpha/omega/beta dynamics, omega jaskier, alpha geralt, alpha yennefer, beta radovid, awkwardness, jaskier is a good parent, protective jaskier, weddings, found family, post mpreg, fluff and humor, alternate universe-modern setting, jaskier is having the worst time of his life, valdo is here to make everything worse, confusion, banter, insecure jaskier, internalized slut shaming

Rating: teen and up audiences

Full word count: 13,761 words

Chapter word count: 3,051 words

Chapters: 5/?

Summary: Jaskier's daughter is about to marry the love of her life, and she decides she wants both her parents at her wedding. Only problem is that Jaskier has slept with a little too many people in his youth, so the identity of the other parent is a mystery. That does not stop the bride-to-be from inviting three potential daddy candidates and unleashing absolute chaos in the process.

Otherwise known as Jaskier's terrible horrible no good past decisions leading to terrible horrible no good outcomes. Also known as the Mamma Mia! AU nobody asked for, but I wrote it anyway.

Chapter summary: In which Jaskier has to deal with PVSD (post-Valdo Stress Disorder), feral goats, and three people from his past that he thought would never ever see again.

Author's notes: Jaskier deserves a break, but he isn't getting one. Sorry, my poor son. I'm continuing my stride of inflicting more emotional turmoil on these poor, unfortunate souls.

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By the time Jaskier got home, he managed to calm down a little bit. Well, he wasn't ready to commit gruesome murder anymore, but his brain was still ticking like a bomb just imagining Valdo Marx's smug grin. Why was this happening to him? What has he done to deserve this? It must have been a cruel, sick play of fate that Sara's mother happened to be best friends with the manager of Valdo's annoying theater band. Jaskier would have to sit down with her and beg her to pick someone else- surely there were other bands that wouldn't ask for millions just to play at a small wedding!

Worst case scenario, he would ask Priscilla and Essi to back him up and play some Sandpipers songs. Amaryllis specifically asked him not to play, because she wanted Jaskier there as a father, not as an employee, but desperate times called for dramatic measures. Either way, Jaskier needed to figure out a way to get rid of his rival before he ruined his beloved baby's big day.

The inn was bustling with guests at this time of the year. Each of them greeted Jaskier happily when he walked through the door. It made Jaskier smile. He had many guests who returned each year, and he saw new faces as well all the time. It was a small business, but people loved the Dandelion Inn, and its owner. Jaskier just wished the costs of holding up a place like that would be cheaper. He's been struggling with paying the bills on time lately, and since the inn was a mostly seasonal business, he had trouble scraping enough money together in the quieter months. But Jaskier promised Auntie he wouldn't let the inn fall apart, no matter what happened.

"Have you seen Amaryllis today?" Jaskier asked Angela, his receptionist. She was a sweet old lady who was hired by Auntie, and Jaskier refused to kick her out, even though she worked slowly and kept mixing up the room numbers. In fact, Jaskier refused to fire anyone from the old staff. There weren't many job opportunities on the island, and even though Jaskier struggled with the costs of keeping all the staff, he didn't want to put them out on the street.

"She had to go to the library, emergency call," Angela explained, not even looking up from her magazine. Jaskier raised an eyebrow.

"Emergency? In a library?"

"The pipes started leaking and she was called in for emergency inventory. But before that, she dropped off a girl here and said something about the goat shed, but I couldn't hear her, you know my ear isn't that good anymore, dear."

"Okay," Jaskier concluded with a sigh. "Wait, what girl? Sara?"

"No, not Sara! I would recognize her! No, it's that one, sitting at that table!"

Jaskier turned to where Angela pointed. A teenage girl with ashen blonde hair was sitting at a table in the lobby, doodling in the guest book. Jaskier didn't recognize her as one of the guests, but with his head being all over the place lately, it was entirely possible he just forgot he's seen her before.

The girl looked up from the guest book and caught Jaskier staring. She grinned and waved at him. Jaskier waved back with a smile. Yeah, must have been one of the guests. He needed to keep better track of these things.

Amaryllis did help him out at the inn when she could, but she had a job at the library and couldn't always be there. Which was a shame, because her memory was much better than Jaskier's. Unfortunately, Jaskier was getting old, he needed to accept it.

"Did Amaryllis say if she fed the goats?" He asked Angela. She didn't react.

"Angela!"

"What was that, dear? You know my hearing isn't great!"

"The goats," Jaskier said louder, articulating each word, "did Amaryllis feed them?"

"I don't know, I don't think so."

Jaskier sighed, slumping against the reception desk. "Great. I'll have to deal with those stinky beasts again."

Another thing Auntie entrusted him with before she died was taking care of her herd of goats. As much as Jaskier loved his aunt, he did curse her sometimes for leaving those animals in his care. He inherited the whole place: not just the inn, but the small flat connected to it where he now lived, and that godforsaken goat shed in the yard.

Jaskier was pretty sure those goats had a personal agenda against him. They were so sweet with the guests, patiently letting small children pet them. They even posed for photos. And they absolutely adored Amaryllis, who, for some reason Jaskier couldn't comprehend, loved those monsters back. Jaskier still remembered the headache when his five years old daughter toddled inside the house with a baby goat in her arms and asked Jaskier if the goat could sleep in her bed. When Jaskier said no, Amaryllis managed to smuggle it in anyway, causing Jaskier a near heart attack when he pulled back the covers one day, and found a goat in the bed instead of his child.

Despite their otherwise sweet behavior, the goats acted completely feral around Jaskier. They bit him and knocked him over constantly, and Jaskier was sure his eardrums would give in one day with how loud they kept screaming. Maybe they sensed he wasn't exactly fond of them. All the same, they were a necessary evil that came with his inheritance.

He changed his clothes quickly, because he was sure his pretty floral shirt would be ripped apart by the goats. He changed it to a simple white shirt and a pair of comfortable shorts before he grabbed a bucket, cursing under his breath all the way to the shed.

"First Valdo Marx, then these fucking goats," Jaskier huffed, "what's next? The aliens will come to abduct me? Fuck's sake. Emergency inventory, my god. As if they don't have several copies of War and Peace. No, let's save the books, it's all fine, who cares that I will be murdered by these monsters?"

He came to a halt before the shed, taking several deep breaths. Alright, he needed to calm down a little bit. He experienced too much stress lately with the wedding planning. Deep breaths, positive thoughts, he told himself. Everything was gonna be okay.

He opened the door and slipped inside the shed, holding the bucket out in front of him like a shield. Just like that, one of the goats, an old, black one that Jaskier was convinced was Satan himself in disguise, knocked into it, sending vegetables flying.

"Asshole," Jaskier huffed, entangling the goat's horns that got twisted in the handle of the bucket. "I brought you lunch, and that's how you thank me!?"

He heard something stir in the corner. One of the baby goats kept sniffing at a large haystack, craning its neck to look behind it. It started stomping on the floor with its hooves, the sound not helping Jaskier's impending headache.

"The hell are you doing there...?"

Jaskier's face went pale when he noticed something that looked like a human leg, pulling back behind the haystack. The blood ran cold in his veins. Someone was in his shed.

"Amaryllis?" He tried. No response came. Jaskier's heart pounded like a hammer inside his chest. He slowly approached the haystack, the hairs on his arms standing on end. When he said he was gonna be abducted, he meant it as a joke!

"Who's there?" Jaskier called again, trying to will his voice not to tremble. "I have a metal bucket in my hands, it hits hard! And I have pepper spray in my pocket! And a rape whistle! I would reveal myself if I were you before it was too late, because I'm... I'm feral!"

A hand emerged from behind the haystack, palm up, as if signaling they came with peace. Jaskier still held onto the bucket, just in case.

The rest of the stranger's body was revealed. Jaskier's eyes widened, and his mouth fell agape. He wobbled on his feet, white noise filling his head. His vision started to swim as amber eyes looked into his own. Familiar white hair, with a few pieces of hay stuck into it. A painfully sharp jawline, now covered with a beard. A tall, broad built, that didn't seem to change all that much since Jaskier last saw him. And he still wore black, from head to toe.

Before Jaskier had a chance to say or do anything, another figure emerged from behind the hay. Jaskier's jaw somehow dropped even lower as he spotted that reddish-blond hair, and those always inquiring blue eyes. Sharp features with thicker stubble than last time. That lean body, clad in expensive clothes. That careful little smile.

Jaskier dropped the bucket, the sound like a gunshot when the third figure came in sight. Black hair, not reaching the middle of her back anymore, just falling past her shoulders. Intense violet eyes. Plump lips, a little chapped. Warm skin and a black dress that hugged her still perfect body.

They all changed here and there, but they mostly looked the same. There was no mistaking them for anyone else. Now, Jaskier only had one question.

"What in the fucking fuck of a fucking hell you all are doing here!?"

"Jaskier," Radovid spoke first, his voice dripping with fake confidence, even though his eyes looked alarmed at Jaskier's outburst. "It's so good to see you, again."

"What are you doing in my goat shed," Jaskier wasn't proud of the way his voice came out as a whimper. But, excuse his French, he was shocked as all hell. Three figures from his past, three people he's romanced literal decades ago, the three people in the sea of his one-night stands that left the biggest mark on him, now stood in front of him. He blinked several times, but the vision didn't pass. They remained standing there, confused, as if they weren't the ones who showed up here for no reason.

"That's a long story," Yennefer sighed. She wrapped her arms around herself as she blinked up at Jaskier. "Shit, it's been a while. I don't know what I'm supposed to say."

"Me neither," Geralt chimed in. He gave Jaskier a small, uncertain smile. Jaskier did his best to ignore the feeling it gave him. "You look..."

"No, no, you're not getting out of this without an explanation," Jaskier scoffed. He put his hands on his hips, glaring at them with all the anger he could muster. "Why are you even on the island? What do you want?"

"What do you mean," Radovid chuckled, a little bitterly, "what do we want? Is this a joke?"

"If it is, it's not funny," Yennefer scoffed. She gently pushed a baby goat away that tried to chew on her dress. "We didn't travel hours on a fucking ferry for you to pretend like you don't know why we're here."

"What!?" Jaskier could feel himself getting hysterical. "What kind of sick prank is this? Which one of you came up with this? How do you even know each other!?"

"Jaskier, we came as quickly as we could," Geralt said. "We dropped everything at home just to come here. It's been... a very weird and exhausting couple of hours. Would you tell us what's going on?"

"Me? You tell me what's going on! I haven't seen your faces in twenty years, and now you suddenly pop up in my freaking goat shed!? And I'm the one who owes YOU an explanation!?"

"You were the one who wrote to us!" Radovid said, pointing a finger at Jaskier and making him raise an eyebrow.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You sent us all an ominous letter, about some life and death situation and how we needed to come see you in person," Yennefer explained. "And that we should pack enough clothes for a few weeks. You promised you would be at the dock, but it was actually your..."

"Wait, wait, wait, wait," Jaskier interrupted her, holding his hands up. He looked over all of them, his confusion growing with each passing second. "Hold your goddamn horses. I did not write you a letter. I didn't write a letter to anyone, let alone the three of you."

"Okay, then what is this?" Geralt asked, reaching into his pocket. He handed Jaskier a crumpled piece of paper. Jaskier skimmed it. The lines blurred together in front of his eyes as he realized what happened.

"That's not my handwriting," he whispered to mostly himself, "that's Amaryllis's."

Oh, holy sweet cow. It all started to make sense. Amaryllis asking about her other parent. Her expressing the need to find out who it is, so they could be there at her wedding. His diary mysteriously switching places in his drawer. He did not misplace that diary. Amaryllis must've taken it out and read it. And she was a smart girl, and a very determined one, as well... if she read it all, if she read about Jaskier's affairs, she put the pieces together - the pieces that Jaskier never dared to.

He nearly collapsed. He only managed to stay on his feet because Geralt caught him around the waist, holding him up.

"You okay?" He asked, his eyes full of concern. The other two moved closer, hovering at his side anxiously. He was surrounded by them in his anguish. It triggered an old dream, a wish he had made a long time ago. Memories flooded his brain, memories of the most intense pain he has ever felt in his life. Pathetically sobbing for someone to come and hold him - Geralt, Radovid, Yennefer, someone, please. I can't do this alone. I wish you were here and held my hand. Auntie, why did you have to leave me so soon? Hell, Mum, I hate you for what you did to me, but I would settle for even you. I just don't wanna give birth alone, don't wanna raise this baby alone, I'm scared, I can't do this...

"My daughter wrote to you," Jaskier whispered. He tore himself away from them, stumbling on his feet. "She pretended to be me to lure you here."

"Fuck," Yennefer whispered, "we've met her."

Jaskier snorted. "You did, huh? I guess she was the one waiting on the docks, then."

"Indeed," Radovid sighed. "She said something about how we should get to know each other better before her wedding, and that one of us should be there for some reason. Then, she practically shoved us back in our cars and told us to drive here. She made us hide out here and she promised she would explain everything, but she got a phone call and left."

"This isn't real," Jaskier laughed hysterically, shaking his head. "This is a nightmare. No, actually, I think I'm dead. And now I'm in hell. Oh, I might be burning soon!"

"Why did Amaryllis write to us?" Geralt asked. "And why does she want us to be there at her wedding?"

"Oh, that's gonna be great. Just absolutely gorgeous. I'm going to strangle her."

"Jaskier," Yennefer hissed, "would you calm down and tell us what's going on!?"

"So, none of you have a hunch," Jaskier snorted. He sighed deeply at their confused stares. "Well, I assume you all realized I've gotten to know each of you pretty well in the past."

"Yeah, we got that," Radovid huffed. Jaskier ignored the emotion the sheer jealousy in his voice evoked in him.

"Well. I have a suggestion why Amaryllis picked you three out of my past affairs, specifically."

Geralt sent him a confused look. "Why?"

"I assume it's because she read my diary, where I wrote about you. And the entries were dated. And well, she might have done a little bit of Math. Which wasn't difficult, considering I'm unmated, so no known daddy or mommy disrupting this lovely picture."

Recognition soon started seeping into their eyes. Their faces turned pale simultaneously.

"When was Amaryllis born?" Radovid asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Jaskier rubbed at his temples, feeling his headache increase.

"May 2003. You're good at Math, aren't you?"

"Now I wish I wasn't," Radovid groaned. Yennefer's eyes widened.

"You're implying that one of us...?"

Geralt swore under his breath. Jaskier imagined the goat shed collapsing over them. He wished it would happen.

"That one of you is Amaryllis's other parent, yes. And she clearly figured that out, too. Congratulations to someone here, I guess."

The silence was deafening except for the goats bleating in the background. Jaskier's three ex lovers stood still as statues, none of them daring to say anything. Jaskier felt a tear run down his face, but he felt too exhausted to wipe it off.

He struggled so hard to forget about them, to erase their smiles, their voices from his mind. To stop remembering their warmth, the feeling of their arms around him. The thought of seeking them out was constantly on the back of his mind after he found out he was pregnant. He knew their address, but he also knew that he didn't mean anything to either of them, not the way they meant to him. They had other things to take care of, and Jaskier wasn't one of them. Would they have even come back, if they found out Jaskier was pregnant? Would they have cared at all? Geralt, with his insistence that he couldn't give Jaskier what he wanted anyway, Radovid with that giant company, and Yennefer who had better hopes than tying herself down on a tiny island - they wouldn't have come back for him, no way.

Why they were here now, Jaskier didn't understand. Why now, after so many years? How come they didn't forget about him? Why were they standing here, staring at him in confusion, after twenty years, just because of a stupid letter?

Maybe it was because they actually... no, he couldn't allow himself to go there. They didn't love him. Not like that. This was all just a giant misunderstanding.

Jaskier felt like he was going to get sick. This was just too much.

He faintly heard them calling his name as he stormed out of the shed, but he didn't turn around.

#geraskier #yennskier #radskier #a/b/o #jaskier #geralt of rivia #yennefer of vengerberg #radovid #omega jaskier #alpha geralt #alpha yennefer #beta radovid #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher fic #my fic #mamma mia au

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runekeepershymnal · 9 months

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Witcher season 3 thoughts (spoilers for all episodes of S3 below the cut

Maybe I'm projecting, but it just did not seem like Henry Cavill was having a good time this season. Like in previous seasons, even when Geralt was miserable, I got the vibe that Cavill was having the time of his life.

The bit when Yen says to Geralt "Promise me this won't be the last time I see you" broke my heart a bit. I think my favorite bit of the whole season, though, was Jaskier bringing the dryads to tears singing the song in Elder.

I haven't read that far in the books yet, and I haven't played the games, so I can't really comment on deviation from the books compared to the show.

I also don't think it's necessarily fair to call out a fantasy universe for anachronism, but I did find the Valdo Marx and the Marxists bits to be... tonally jarring? It just seemed extremely modern compared to the vibe of the show thus far. The biggest record-scratch moment there for me, however, was the Melange, where Yen and Geralt have a sudden tango in the middle of this other dance and it all flows just fine around them. I get that it was (probably?) intended to be representative of how they had their own mission while there were complex machinations all around them, but... enh?

I'm not sure, but I feel like they switched Yen's contacts, especially in the longer shots, and I wish they'd kept it more subtle. There were some Spirit of Halloween moments there, and Anya deserves better. I could be completely wrong, maybe it was a change in the lighting, but I remember them being this deep, rich, wine purple, and season three they were kinda lavender? I dunno.

I loved Jaskier as the big brother or uncle figure (or mommy and daddy's special friend, we don't know what goes on between scenes) who acts as intermediary between Ciri and Geralt. Compared to Geralt and Yen, Jaskier was Ciri's age much more recently, so it makes sense.

Tissaia dying ripped my heart out. I kind of expected her to turn herself into an eel to jumpstart Aretuza's power again, and I don't love the notion that, to pass on leadership to Yen, she had to die. But then, it may have just been her broken heart and the grief at the fallout from her being betrayed. Still, she was my favorite, and I have such an enormous crush on her, and when her hair went white, she was just incredibly hot in a different way. I will miss looking at her, listening to her beautiful voice, and watching her annihilate idiots with a sharp look.

I didn't mind Radovid and Jaskier, it was an interesting dynamic and I'm glad the show went there, especially since it seemed to show how much Jaskier has dispensed, by necessity, with some of the more shallow things that used to be incredibly important to him.

I really enjoyed Philippa and Dijkstra, how committed they are to one another, their shared and individual internal conflicts and desperation.

We may be cancelling Neflix in my household because of the most recent price hike, but I hope that the show continues to be good.

Anyway, unsolicited opinions and general musings conclude.

#witcher season 3 spoilers #the witcher season 3 spoilers #the witcher s3 #the witcher #the witcher netflix #witcher #the witcher spoilers #witcher spoilers #netflix witcher spoilers #look if that's not enough spoiler tags then I don't think I can help you

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carly-they-jepsen · 2 years

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💌 💯🛳 (I always want all of your recs lol)

Awww, thanks!

13. 💌 A fic that inspired you to create something for it So technically my answer for this is this wonderful fic by write_away on ao3, but I think you've already heard of this one ;) my power was constricted in my heart (137.5k) (M) by write_away

Tl;dr: A vaguely fantasy medieval royalty AU about finding love, trust, family, and acceptance when you’re not sure you deserve it.

I was inspired to create a playlist for this one based off the songs used for chapter titles!

A fic that I have been inspired to create something for it but haven't yet is The Accidental Warlord and his Pack series (383.9k) (G-E) by inexplicifics. The first of which is:

With a Conquering Air (27.8k) (E) by @inexplicifics

Jaskier arrives at Kaer Morhen knowing his family gave him up without a second thought, and absolutely sure that the dreaded Warlord of the North will value him even less than his own blood did. But the White Wolf and his pack are not what Jaskier expected…and if he's unreasonably lucky, Kaer Morhen might become far more of a home than Lettenhove ever was.

…He is, in fact, going to be unreasonably lucky, because the Warlord of the North is a far finer monarch - and a far better man - than Redania's king has ever dreamed of being. Yes its a Witcher fic. No you don't need to know who anyone is to read it and enjoy it. This fic inspires me for my original fiction and one day I'm going to get a fic idea set in this universe that's concrete enough to actually write.

7. 💯 A fic that makes you think #writergoals The Best Lie is a Truth (My Best Mask is My Face) (43k) (E) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (@letmetellyouaboutmyfeels)

The Buckleys are celebrating their 50th Anniversary, and Maddie and Buck are both expected to come. To take the heat off Maddie, Buck impulsively blurts out that he's seeing someone new.

Obviously, there's only one solution: bring Eddie as his fake boyfriend, pretend to be in love with him, and survive the weekend with minimal bloodshed. No problem, except for the, uh. "Pretend" part.

Oops.

Eddie is so sassy in this. There are some amazing one-liners and even though I only read this fic for the first time like two weeks ago, it immediately jumped into my to 5 fake dating fics.

11. 🛳️ A fic that brought you aboard a new ship the way a human loves another human (1.7k) (G) by neiljostenminyard Since Declan was a child, he had a list of facts that he gathered from what he saw around him, and lived by them: Don't tell anyone about what your father does. You need to protect your brothers. Boys date girls. But.

Or: Declan VS feelings VS bisexuality

This fic opened a whole new world of bi!Declan for me and I cherish it. Sexuality is complicated and messy and even he can't escape it.

#fic recs #ask game #the witcher #geraskier #the raven cycle #declan lynch #911 #buddie

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seidenbros · 2 years

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Hello! I love your Geraskier fics, so can I request #26 from the 2021 Spotify Wrapped Fic Meme thing for them? I hope you're having a great day!

Hello, my love! YOU have no idea, how much I chuckled to myself when I looked up WHICH song you chose, and it's a German song which fits the two of them perfectly in my opinion. (Here's a rough translation) I put this in a modern setting, because it fit better with what I had in mind, so I hope you will enjoy this. i certainly had a lot fun writing it <3

(Taken from this list and here are some other prompts, but feel free to request anything <3)

Warnings: fluff Word Count: 1711

_____________________

“Geralt? Meet me at O'Neill's Pub at 8, okay?”

“What? Why?”

Not that Geralt is opposed to going out with his childhood friend – at least not in general – but this is a little sudden. It's already past seven, and usually, they plan these nights sooner.

“Just don't wanna sit around at home. I want to go out. So are you in?”

He should probably say no and keep his distance, but he can't let Jaskier down. He's never done that before, so Jask would know that something is going on.

“Alright. See you in a bit.”

Geralt heaves a sigh. This isn't a good idea, not after all the tingles and butterflies he felt the last time they were together. They grew up together, have known each other ever since Jaskier's family moved in next to Geralt's The new kid, the one that was shy at first but lit up as soon as he spent time with Geralt. Best friends, that's what they became and what they still are nowadays. Their parents went on vacation together with them, had game-nights, and they are still really good friends today – just like Jaskier and Geralt. Once they were old enough to not need a babysitter their parents went out together, while Geralt and Jaskier spent the evenings together in front of the TV, watching trash-horror-movies – needless to say that Jaskier was the one hiding behind a pillow, while Geralt chuckled to himself watching his best friend nearly shit his pants.

When they got older, they went to University together, helped the other through heartache, and Geralt even hit the asshole that cheated on Jaskier, because he deserved it. Whenever they needed the other, they were there – and that was still true today, after so many years. Nothing ever happened between them, not even a drunken kiss. They danced together, laughed together and felt normal, no racing hearts, no butterflies... But a few nights ago, everything changed at least for Geralt.

They were out, drinking and Jaskier had too much, so Geralt took him home to his own apartment, not wanting to leave his best friend alone for the night in case he had to throw up. Jaskier cuddled up to Geralt all the way home, and once they were inside, he immediately went for the bedroom, because he knew Geralt's home like the back of his hand. Geralt just wanted to put a blanket on him and sleep on the sofa, but Jaskier pulled him close.

“I need you here,” Jaskier mumbled, cuddling up to Geralt, wrapping his arms around his best friend. It didn't take long for him to fall asleep, but Geralt... He stayed awake half the night watching Jaskier. His heart beat so fast that it was hard for him to calm down. Everywhere Jaskier's body touched him, he felt little tingles that settled in the pit of his stomach. Oh, Geralt knew that feeling. It was a wonderful feeling, but nothing that he wanted to have when he thought about his best friend. They'd touched a thousand times – nothing had happened. But that night... Everything changed for him, but he didn't want anything to change between them. That was why he should keep his distance to figure out what he was going to do with this, but... When Jaskier calls, Geralt is there for him.

“There you are!” Jaskier's face lights up the moment he sees Geralt. There are already two ales in front of him, and he pushes one towards his friend. “You've made yourself so scarce the last few days, I'm glad that we can finally spend another evening together.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Geralt apologises, sliding onto the barstool and reaching for the ale. “Work as always.” It isn't exactly a lie, because his work can get kind of stressful and take up a lot of time, but not this week. He needed to figure out what to do about his feeling the last couple of days, but by now, he still doesn't have a solution, because he doesn't want to destroy their friendship. For so many years, they've been friends, so why is he all of a sudden feeling like a teenager in love around Jaskier? Because he is in love... in love with his best friend, but he has no idea what Jaskier feels.

“Sounds like you need a new job,” Jaskier muses, but he knows that this will never happen, because Geralt loves what he does for a living, which is something you do not find that often. Jaskier himself is lucky enough that he can earn money with his music. It's not that he's standing on big stages, but he writes music for others, fills the pubs around town and sometimes even teaches music. He loves what he does as well, but it's not really stressful.

“We both know that's not going to happen.” Geralt smiles to himself before he raises tha ale to his lips, eyes still lingering on Jaskier. He can't deny the way Jaskier makes him feel. It's not a couple of butterflies anymore, it's a whole as butterfly-farm that are doing somersaults in his stomach, almost to the point where he wants to throw up. If only he could get that stupid smile out of his face, Geralt would feel a lot better, but he's not able to do so. Whenever he looks at Jaskier, he simply has to smile, because he's happy.

“Yeah, probably not.” Jaskier chuckled, his eyes twinkling. Jaskier proceeds to tell Geralt about his day, which is nothing unusual. Once Jaskier starts talking, it's difficult to shut him up. Usually, Geralt interrupts him at one point, tells him that they need to go dancing or whatever just so that Jaskier stops talking, but not this time. Jaskier talks and talks, until he gets frustrated, because Geralt doesn't interrupt or stop him. “Gods, what is going on with you? You've never ever let me talk this long without complaining. Why don't you shut me up like you usually do?”

There is a note of irritation in his voice. Geralt can't help himself when his eyes drop to Jaskier's lips. His mind has been all over the place during the conversation, his eyes looking everywhere – Jaskier seems to be oblivious to that.

“You want me to shut you up?” Geralt asks, his eyes slowly wandering from his best friend's lips up to meet his eyes.

Jaskier's lips part, but no sound comes out at first. His tongue darts out to wet his lips. Is he imagining things or are things getting hotter in here all of a sudden? There is only one way to find out.

“Yes?!” Though it sounds almost like a question, because he isn't entirely sure, whether he is interpreting Geralt's words correctly, but he wants this, wants to find out where this leads.

It's now or never, and though he won't be able to blame it on the alcohol – which would be a save option to play it down in the end – Geralt leans forward. For days, he's been dreaming about this moment, but now that it's really here, Geralt is a little nervous. His fingers tremble slightly when he cups Jaskier's cheek right before their lips connect. It's everything he thought it would be and so much more. The tingles are there again immediately, starting from his lips, moving like a buzzing sensation through his whole body, settling in his stomach again. When he feels Jaskier's fingers in his own hair, fingernails grazing his scalp until both hands settle in his neck, Geralt is completely lost. Is this some kind of dream or is this really happening. Geralt slides off his barstool to step between Jaskier's thighs, deepening the kiss. Jaskier's legs wrap around him immediately, trapping him in place.

They only part when they both need to draw oxygen into their lungs. Geralt's hands both drop to Jaskier's waist, his thumbs skimming over his sides.

“Fucking finally,” Jaskier says against his best friend's lips, their foreheads resting against each other. “I've been thinking about this since we last met.” It's a confession he didn't plan on making, but now the words are out and he'd happy about it, he even smiles.

“Me too,” Geralt admits, placing another chaste kiss on Jaskier's lips, before he pulls back a little bit so he can look in these brilliant blue eyes. “I just didn't think you'd feel the same way... I mean after all these years, and there was never...” He's searching for the right words, but as per usual, Jaskier finds them.

“That spark. But it's there now. A thousand touches, but the 1001st was the one that changed everything.” Jaskier smiles and lets his hands drop down to Geralt's chest, starts drawing lazy circles with his thumbs. “There have been so many nights where I felt like something was missing, and when I slept by your side, woke up next to you, I knew that you were the thing that's been missing.”

“Jask...” Geralt says with a smile. He's known Jaskier long enough to know just how poetic he can get, but having these words aimed at him directly, is something else entirely. Something that makes his heart beat even faster and harder for the man he's known most of his life.

“I'm not finished,” Jaskier says, his words earning him a chuckle from Geralt. He should have known. “I've told you about my problem so many times, and you've always been there for me, but now I know... I know that you're the key to everything. The key to solving these problem. You always have been.”

“Gods, Jaskier!” Geralt says shaking his head. He has to stop him before Jaskier manages to make Geralt cry with his words, because they touch his heart, his soul. It's everything he'd wanted, and now, he has his best friend and his lover all rolled into one in his arms. And to keep him from talking more and more, Geralt leans in again to kiss Jaskier. A good way to shut his best friend up. A very good way.

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leverage-ot3 · 3 years

Text

parker and jaskier are both on the same chaos spectrum, just different parts. no I will not elaborate

#EXCEPT FOR I WILL!!!#in the tags at least #so okay I just love characters with feral energy I guess I just realized and the thief and the bars hit it so well #jaskier is a bastard while simultaneously being baby #parker is a baby while simultaneously being a chaos demon #(they both have changeling energy you can’t change my mind)#this is probably gonna get stuck in my drafts but whatever #I just desperately want leverage x witcher overlap with fandom/fans #okay but hear me out: leverage witcher au #same characterizations of leverage characters but in the witcher universe #eliot is a witcher ofc. hardison is a mage maybe??? or a bard that follows eliot around singing songs of his greatness but is also very in #tune with brewing eliots potions and taking care of him. he is half elf but that’s a surprise #parker is either a fae changeling that imprints on them OR #a dragon. possibly borch’s daughter.#she collects shiny things and I adore her #someone write this verse pls I’m begging #of course they’re all semi immortal because they will live out their long lives TOGETHER goddamnit #yes i am on the nonhuman jaskier train. those boys DESERVE to live out eternity together and netflix forgot to age him so that’s their fault #okay but also consider this: immortal yen jaskier and geralt meeting parker hardison and eliot #parker hardison and jaskier hit it off IMMEDIATELY because feral and chaotic energy #geralt and yen and eliot watch with both horror and fondness #*me at my aus*: I just think they’re neat #the witcher #leverage #jaskier #julian alfred pankratz #parker #parker leverage #mine #leverage crossover

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a-kind-of-merry-war · 3 years

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Geralt & Jaskier. "I think my roommate MIGHT be my Superhero arch-rival, but the hero is extremely likeable, and my roommate is the grumpiest person I've ever met." VS "There's a chance my roommate is actually my Supervillain nemesis, except my roommate is an actual ball of sunshine, and the Supervillain is a cackling megalomaniac complete with Evil Monologues and possibly a Villain Song."

Aka, Roommates with a twist!

Ok so how about: Geralt as the extremely serious, grimdark superhero with a tragic backstory and a lot of Various Guilt who dresses only in dark colours and grumbles everything...

Who moves to a new city and - because he exists within the genre - is immediately thrust into "new city with new problems", and he's starting to suspect his hot roommate Jaskier (because being a superhero never really paid that well) might also be Dandelion, the villain he's been roped into defeating, but--

But he's a Literal Disney Villain, who is wildly over the top, completely mad, the single most queer-coded person in the world with an incredible wardrobe that Geralt is 99.9% sure he made himself, complete with capes, and yeah he's pretty sure that Jask is the supervillain but he's also... not that effective, you know?

Like it's actually kinda nice that the fight-of-the-week is centred around a really convoluted plot involving coating all the statues in the city with glittery paint, because no one actually gets hurt, and Dandelion isn't after money or power but he's making a point - and as Geralt is wrestling an extremely glittery Dandelion into a pair of handcuffs that he knows he will 1) escape from and 2) leave hanging on his door handle he realises that he only targeted statues of... slave owners, of colonialisers, of people who deserve it...

and, aw shit. Is the supervillain... right?? And then this all falls apart rather spectacularly when the universe dumps an orphaned, superpowered child on his doorstep - literally - and suddenly he and his definitely-not-my-arch-nemesis roommate have a ward.

And his ex-girlfriend - an absurdly powerful ex-super who moved into law in order to get superheroes (and some villains) out of difficult situations, because you know the government doesn't give a shit about any of them - is back in his life, and suddenly being a Superhero and beating people up for a living isn't enough (it was never enough, really) and he's trying to juggle all of it, as well as his growing feelings for Jaskier, and--

And, well. This is the perfect time for a new Supervillain to attempt to take over the city, seeing as the hero is busy and the current Supervillain a little lackluster, and this one-- this one does want money and power, and he's willing to do whatever it takes to get it.

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witchersgoldenbard · 2 years

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Do you have any geraskier fic recs for the weird slump that happens when you’re anxious about the semester, but that surfaces as deciding you’re a fucked up weirdo and then crawling into bed and hating yourself? Bc that is where I am 🥺 I’m in the US so the semester starts next week for me, and I am barely functional

hello my darling nonnie, i am sorry you’re in a slump, please know i am sending you all the hugs and cuddles 🥺💛 you’re not a fucked up weirdo, you’re lovely and deserve all the snuggles! In lieu of snuggles, i’m giving you some of my personal favourite geraskier fics – which are not nearly as many as i would like because i spent a long time in a (reading) slump myself. i tried to sort them for you becuase they got... a bit out of hand 💛

Canon-world AUs

of music and motion and love by WriteThroughTheNight

T | 12k | Jaskier and Yen are siblings, many feels, magic jaskier

When Jaskier was four, he slipped his mother’s watch and went to the field to gather a bouquet of dandelions. He climbed back into the yard, as stealthy as a child really cared to be, and crept over to the barn. In the barn, lived a secret. OR Jaskier comes from a far humbler background, and would really like to know why Yennefer never came back for her youngest brother.

the heart is a winged beast by @greyduckgreygoose

E | 99k words | warlord!geralt, mutual pining, intrigue

After the turmoil of war robbed him of his birthright, Jaskier endures life as a simple Bard in the court of Kerack, under the protection of his cruel, ambitious cousin. Until the night that Jaskier catches the attention of the Geralt of Rivia, Lord of the Clan of the Wolf, and is terrified to be gifted to the barbarian mercenary as a bed-warmer. However, Jaskier soon learns that the White Wolf is not the man his dark reputation makes him out to be. He might, in fact, be Jaskier's only hope of escaping his harsh circumstances. If only Jaskier can convince Geralt to allow him to remain at his side... if only Jaskier can avoid losing his own heart in the process...

Geralt Deserves Soft Things (series) by Bedalk05

mostly T | 200k words | wolf shifter jask, soft boys, all the feels

This series is almost entirely pure fluff, featuring shifter!Jaskier and a whole lotta cuddles and feels all around. Most of these can be read as a stand-alone if you’d like.

(i honestly love this so much, some of the first geraskier i read. perfect comfort 💛)

Modern AUs

Yours, Dandelion by dapperyklutz

T | 17k words | teenagers, soft boys, all the feels, pining

Jaskier has a secret. Well, he has two. The first is that he's in love with Geralt Rivia, captain of the rugby team and his childhood best friend. Only, they're no longer best friends. His second secret is that he writes poems dedicated to Geralt and anonymously posts it at the school's Freedom Wall under the pseudonym of Dandelion. And the thing is, Dandelion has become so popular - more popular than Jaskier - that it's getting more difficult to keep his silence when it's clear that Geralt is starting to develop feelings for the mysterious lovesick poet. How naïve was Jaskier to think that it would be so easy.

velvet and steel by balladofwolves

E | 21k words | mob!au, singer!jask, slow burn, action, epic

Reckless up-and-coming singer Jaskier lands himself in hot water when one of his more political songs goes viral, and nearly gets him killed. Queen Calanthe of Cintra wants his head, but Jaskier is placed under the protection of the Order of the Wolf, the most powerful crime organization in the Continent-- And finds himself falling in love with none other than Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf himself, and leader of the Order. Jaskier’s never been known to make good, or safe, choices.

Opposites Attract by tinyjaskier

T | 28k words | autistic geralt, adhd jaskier, college au, softness

When Geralt is paired with Jaskier by the University accommodation team, he’s sure there must’ve been some kind of mistake. The guy is loud, unorganised and messy. Geralt likes peace, order and cleanliness. He’s going to drive him absolutely insane. But, there’s no more accommodation left. How will they cope?

Soulmate AUs

Nothing to Lose But My Secrets by @handwrittenhello

E | 45k words | enemies to lovers, warlord!geralt and assassin!jaskier

Jaskier is the best assassin in the Northern Kingdoms. On the most important mission of his life - kill the Warlord of the North or die trying - things go terribly wrong, and he's taken prisoner. During his time as a captive in Kaer Morhen, he's forced to confront some uncomfortable truths: witchers aren't what the stories say, his soulmate is most definitely somewhere in the keep and he may have found himself on the wrong side of this war.

Batshit by fungumunguss

E | 80k words (though the main storyline is like 60k?) | modern au, witchers in modern times

Jaskier is attending Comic-Con to promote his show, "Dandelion" a musical thriller. While everything on the show is fiction, Jaskier has a penchant for danger and very quickly finds himself in a bit of trouble and into the arms of one delectable man who he feels drawn to. His heart whispers soulmate, but after his previous disaster with his soul mark, he can't bear to believe it true. The punch in the gut tells him that much.

Other

The Reanimator of Rosemerrow by @cap-sweet-and-salty-sadness

E | 35k words | supernatural & horror elements, modern witchers

In 1819, Jaskier accidentally buys an old abandoned inn in the middle of nowhere, England. Haunted, as if this mountain of dust and debris wasn't already enough of a problem. At least he has a handsome carpenter to help him renovate it.

endless wonder by @kotemorons

M | 50k words | Warehouse 13 AU, a/b/o (but not really), magic

Jaskier knows three things for sure: One, most of the items stored in Kaer Morhen actively want to kill him. Two, all of the people he works with are absolutely gorgeous, terrifying alphas that want nothing to do with his flirty omega self. Three, he wouldn't have it any other way. Oh, did he mention the end of the world?

The Lesser Evil by @dont-tempt-me-frodo

E | 79k words | pirate captain!jask, assassin!geralt, epic, all the feels

1674 and piracy is rife throughout the Caribbean. Plenty of work for a Pirate Hunter such as Geralt. But when he takes a contract to hunt down a pirate captain who is interfering with important trade, a harsh truth arrises that will question his morals and he will be forced to choose between two evils, and risk the one thing he never thought he would find. Love.

💛 i also asked some of my friends for their geraskier fic recs, so here, have some more! (though i didn't sort them this time, sorry)

Life's Blood by @resident-lambert-hoe (T | 3k)

It had taken fifty-years of fighting tooth and nail for Geralt and Jaskier to be allowed to legally marry. After the deed was done, they chose to commemorate it in their own way. tattoo au

Secret by @mordoriscalling (M | 8k)

Based on artistsfuneral's take on the prompt "love confessions: in a language you didn't know they understand".

Taming the Wolves by @saltytransidiot (T | 9k)

When Geralt offers to bring Jaskier to Kaer Morhen that winter, the bard is overjoyed, but anxious as well. He desperately wishes to make a good impression on his lover's family. It turns out easier than he had thought, although Eskel isn't convinced just yet.

Sweet Nothings by @saltytransidiot (M | 10k)

Kaer Morhen is a warmer place than Jaskier had envisaged, and Geralt's family is nicer, and bigger, than Geralt had ever spoken about. Walking into the keep brings up some feelings that Jaskier hadn't realized were bubbling, and he has to delve deeper into his own feeling and who he really is. (God Jaskier)

Sweet Sorrows by @saltytransidiot (M | 19k)

Ciri doesn't find Geralt at the end, she finds Jaskier. She has known him all her life, and she trusts him. He decides to bring her to Kaer Morhen so that she will find Geralt. He dreads the moment it will happen.

Three Steps from the Sky by @bunnyofnegativeeuphoria (M | 30k)

Dear Reader, I present to you a tale of love, the value of faith and communication, and quite a ridiculous amount of horse content.

No King Among Wolves by IndigoDream (M | 32k)

Prince Julian of Kerack has been having nightmares recently. On the day of his twenty-first birthday feast, a week before his official coronation, he tries to ignore those nightmares and focus on the party. However, when a princess of Creyden greets him, accompanied by her witcher bodyguard, Julian starts feeling like he can't escape the dreams anymore. --- Jaskier was a son, a brother, a prince. One sweep at his mind, and he is only a Prince.

we could be married (and then we'd be happy) by @a-kind-of-merry-war (E | 50k)

Geralt and Jaskier have been playing this game for nearly a year, now: staging a proposal in an expensive restaurant to see if they can get a meal on the house. But pretending to be engaged to the person you're secretly in love with is starting to take its toll on both of them - especially when they're caught in the act.

To give without knowing by @flowercrown-bard (T | 108k)

Jaskier finds a wooden figure that Geralt carved and threw away in the woods and thinks it's a gift from the fae.

my dear friend (hehe) also compiled a list of geraskier fic recs

so! i hope you're not overwhelmed now, dearest nonnie. i hope you find something that lets you escape your slump. i love you 💛

#geraskier #geralt #jaskier #geraskier fic recs #the witcher fanfiction #witcher fanfic #witcher fic rec #nonnie asks #i love you nonnie #also just go to the profiles of all these writers they're lovely and have many more stories #also IndigoDream i kiss your hand darling #💛#nat rambles #nat recs #thanks everyone who gave me their recs!#i would have asked more people but then that would have escalated even more but feel free to reblog this with your own recs

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asweetprologue · 3 years

Text

Nili’s Benchmark Geraskier Fic Rec List

hey yall! I officially hit 750 followers (a few days ago, I blew past the benchmark without even realizing!), which is... insane. I truly can’t believe that so many people over the last year have enjoyed my presence in this fandom enough to continue to follow my work. you guys are so great and I love you all so much, so I decided to put together a gift for you!

this is a list of my favorite geraskier fics from the fandom, which I have been putting together over the last year or so. a few of these are big in the fandom, but a lot of them are smaller pieces that I feel deserve more attention! I have provided ao3 and tumblr links where I could find them, as well as ratings and summaries. Most of these are canon!verse because I’m not personally a big fan of modern au’s, but there will be a few of those scattered throughout as well. I’ve divided the fics into two sections: oneshots and multichapter. See the list below the cut!

Being in this fandom truly has gotten me through the pandemic in a big way and I have made so many good friends while here. thank you all for validating my weird obsession with these characters and enabling me in these trying times <3

Oneshots

all that was good, all that was fair (all that was me is gone) | M | 7517 | WARNING: Graphic Depictions Of Violence | @xdandelionxbloomx

Somewhere, deep in a forest, a man drags himself from his grave by sheer power of will. He lies gasping on the forest floor and does not know who or what he is. The world is wide and wonderful, though, and there is so much to see.

Or, Jaskier is so stubborn that he literally comes back from the dead.

Another fascinating addition to the mythology of the Witcher. Jaskier’s slow rediscovery of himself is so well done here. One I’ve come back to again and again.

As Fast As Love Can Go | T | 9628 | @bygodstillam

There are Faeries in the Wood.

That's what everyone said, at least, not that there was any solid proof. Jaskier had tried, more than once, to find some. Just a hint somewhere, of a real story, of real magic. But all anyone seemed to have was stories.

Jaskier was determined to find proof. He wasn't expecting to find a witcher in the process.

Fascinating fic with some really interesting worldbuilding, and a fresh new take on True Love’s Kiss. Also with some great art by @hehearse!

beautiful, he stirs up still things | T | 2575 | @alittlebitmaybe

“You’re not asking me to dance,” says Geralt.

Jaskier turns his palm up on his knee, offering it. “I think you’ll find I am.”

Just them dancing. This is a lovely sort of pre-relationship dynamic. So soft.

Dialogue Prompt | NR | 2932 | @reinvent-and-believe

Dialogue Prompt 48: “You make me want things I can’t have.” Wordless I-love-you 50: buying them a special treat when you go out shopping

Geralt gets Jaskier a gift, which prompts some confessions.

Even a small love | E | 22,272 | WARNING: Rape/Non-Con

“Well,” Jaskier replies distractedly. “Lots of things want to strangle you.”

“You don’t.”

It isn’t a particularly troublesome accusation, or even necessarily an accusation at all.

This is one I read early on in the fandom, and it really stuck with me. The dynamic between Jaskier and Geralt is perfect, and the misunderstandings between them feel so realistic. The non-con is not extreme, but do mind the warnings.

For the Space of a Heartbeat | T | 2021 | @drowningbydegrees

As it turns out, falling into bed with your very best friend who you are privately very much in love with isn't nearly so nerve wracking as waking up with them the morning after.

Just sweet, morning after discussions. I love to see them talking for once.

Greensleeves | T | 10,414 | @rebrandedbard

When Geralt crosses paths with Jaskier in the spring, the world is dressed in green. Quite literally. Everyone everywhere is wearing green, and it all comes down to a song Jaskier has written that, to his mortification, has become popular throughout the Continent. It's torment, being forced to preform the song over and over again and have his heart broken anew. But who is this Lady Greensleeves the people say Jaskier is so maddeningly, heartbrokenly in love with? At the baron's wedding party, Geralt is determined to find out.

This is one of my personal faves - there’s just something about Jaskier’s feelings being put on blast while Geralt remains totally oblivious that I think is so very them. And the resolution at the end is delightful.

I Don’t Wanna Fall (If It’s Not In Love) | E | 13,902 | @writinglizards

The first time it's out of desperation. Things get rapidly out of hand from there.

OR the building of a relationship through mutual wank sessions.

I love everything Ashley writes, but this one was the first fic I read by her and it still has a warm place in my heart. I also highly recommend It’s Been A While (makes me cry every time) and Tell Me Honestly

Like a Storm, Like a Flood | T | 1065 | @valdomarx

Jaskier is leaving for the winter, and Geralt can't bear the thought of not seeing him for months.

It was soooo hard to pick only one fic by George, but this one is so soft and sweet and yearning I just had to go with it. This is really just about Geralt finally hitting a breaking point and saying enough is enough.

one flesh | E | 10,763 | WARNING: MCD

“Well, then. I’m a ghost.” Jaskier spread his arms grandly. Geralt held his gaze for a moment, then dropped his head and laughed. Jaskier put his hands on his hips. “Do fill me in on what’s so funny.” It wasn’t funny. It was just so - ridiculous, the things Geralt’s fucked up brain would invent. This had to be the last nail in the sanity coffin, it just had to be.

Or: Jaskier is a ghost, and Geralt is a mess.

Jaskier dies and comes back as a ghost to haunt Geralt into taking care of himself. Geralt does not handle this gracefully. This fic is so sad and heartbreaking, but the ending is so sweet.

to render it transparent | E | 23,901

Geralt wakes up warm, peaceful, and utterly content, which is how he knows that something is severely wrong.

Sigh. This fic. This is a time travel fic - Geralt ends up in the future living with Jaskier on the coast, just after the mountain. It’s slow and beautiful and extremely bittersweet, all about how we choose to love people despite how much it can hurt us.

With All the Continent A Stage | M | 4745 | @greyduckgreygoose

Later, Geralt learned that the play was four hours long. Four hours long. It didn’t feel like it. Most of it passed by in a fever dream of ominous music, dance-fighting and dryads in gossamer leaves, swinging from hoops attached to the ceiling. Yennefer made an appearance, played by Priscilla in a glittering negligee. She sang a song to Geralt about putting him “Under Her Spell”, and they had a sensual dance number which was made a little strange by a sickened Jaskier (played by Jaskier) coughing loudly in the background.

(Jaskier invites Geralt to a musical production inspired by his own life.)

Jaskier basically writes Geralt a love letter in the form of a four hour long play. Geralt is an idiot about it.

Multi-Chapter Fics

A Lover’s Lament | M | 25,364 | @somedrunkpirate

So,” Jaskier begins, as casually as he can, “you are telling me, that in theory, if I were to be in love with someone — anyone — that person could well be in terrible danger?”

Of all terrible and ridiculous things that have threatened Geralt’s safety, Jaskier’d never thought that loving him might be what will get him killed.

I honestly can’t count the number of times I’ve read this fic. The monster is so interesting, and the mythos of it fits seamlessly into the world of the Witcher in my mind. Jaskier being so afraid that his feelings are going to put Geralt at risk, clearly unable to see that Geralt is going through the exact same thing. I think about the scene with them looking at each other almost daily.

A Pair of Gloves, the Scent of Roses | M | 24,134 | WARNING: Graphic Depictions of Violence

In the bustling days before the Midsummer festival, Geralt is sent into the countryside to deal with a monster - with Jaskier once again by his side. But the bard has not forgiven him, and while he's not hiding his contempt for the Witcher, he is recalcitrant about revealing his true motives for joining him. As the hunt turns into a desperate mission to save an innocent man and the monster is not what is seems to be, Geralt learns a few new things about his old friend and decides to finally attempt to mend the rift between them...

This is one of my favorite’s in the fandom - it feels so believable, the world is so rich and the oc’s are convincing and charming. Geralt and Jaskier feel so honest here, stumbling around each other but still drawn together. Beautiful beautiful beautiful

Bearing the will of the flower | NR | 11,449

The way Jaskier sees it, his hobby of following a witcher around was always pretty likely to get him killed.

The fact that it's happening now because the witcher in question doesn't love him, he thinks as he coughs up crumpled flowers, hardly makes a difference.

My favorite hanahaki fic in the fandom. I’m such a sucker for these, and these two idiots being so incapable of talking about their feelings really makes them prime candidates.

Food of Love | T | 22,488 | @wallatile-qvibbler

I brought a dead princess back to life through the power of song is the kind of thing that would have got an eyebrow raise even from the stone-faced Geralt of Rivia, so it's a good thing he and Geralt will probably never see each other again.

(or: the one where Jaskier channels magic through his songs, and it almost never goes as expected.)

This is a Jaskier and Renfri centric fic, which wasn’t something I knew I wanted until I read this. Jaskier is a bard which in this AU comes with magical powers, but it feels so well integrated into the universe that I wish it was just... how the Witcher is. Renfri is so good here, and even though Jaskier and Geralt barely even interact you can feel the tension and love between them. Cannot recommend highly enough.

friends and allies of the witcher | T | 10,312 | @theamazingbard

Yennefer crawls over to her newest cellmate. They’re curled up on their side. Breathing, but only just. She’s not sure what she’s hoping for when she turns them over. Still isn’t when she sees that it is indeed Jaskier.

“Shit."

Yennefer and Jaskier each suffer in more ways than one at the hands of Nilfgaard.

Yennefer and Jaskier get capture by Nilfgaard and tossed into a cell together. Exactly what I want out of season 2 honestly. Their interactions are gold.

I’d Be the Choiceless Hope | E | 45,188 | WARNING: Rape/Non-Con | @lesdemonium

As a baby, Jaskier was visited by a fae, who gifted Jaskier's mother with Jaskier's obedience. As Jaskier grew older, the "gift" became more of a curse.

You know I’m not gonna make a rec list without listing Zoe’s Ella Enchanted au. Need I say more?

Silver and Copper | M | 56,139 | WARNING: Graphic Depictions of Violence | @kaer-cuan

Geralt is just supposed to pass through the quiet Lettenhove area. He's not anticipating being begged by its people to help save their viscount from a curse that keeps him from daylight. Lord Jaskier, they call him, and he's likely dying.

As Geralt struggles to untangle the ugly web of history that has lead to the increasingly complicated curse, he finds himself spending more and more time with the strange young viscount and wondering just what he might have been before the curse, and who he might be after. But things are not always as they seem, and as the curse tightens its grip on Jaskier, Geralt is forced to face the fear of failing yet another person whose choices were stolen from them.

Or-

Jaskier is kept from becoming a bard. Geralt finds him anyway.

This is a fic that haunts me. It’s very scary in parts, and mind the tags - there are some very heavy themes here. But it’s beautiful and touching, and Jaskier feels very true to himself even though his origin is so different.

we could be married (and then we'd be happy) | E | 50,222 | @a-kind-of-merry-war

Jaskier reached into his pocket, fingers grasping around the little box. He pulled it out with what he hoped was a romantic flourish, flipping it open to reveal the simple gold band inside. “Geralt,” he said, confidently, cooly, like this wasn’t terrifying, “Will you marry me?”

Geralt and Jaskier fake marriage proposals to get free deserts and shit but it goes tits up when Vesemir catches them in the act. Not knowing how to fess up, they go along with it for a while, which is hell because they’re both pining like mad. As I said, I don’t love modern au’s, but it’s merry so of course this one had to end up on my list.

And that’s it! 20 fics for you, and hopefully you can all find one or two you haven’t read before. There are a lot of people and fics that I didn’t include in this list only because I was trying to not put a million down (which I could). I highly recommend anything by @wherethewordsare, @julek, @contemplativepancakes, @witcher-and-his-bard, and @inber, as well as those linked to fics above, and I’m sure there are others I forgot to mention. Yall have truly made being in this fandom worthwhile <3

#geraskier #geraskier fic recs #geralt of rivia #geralt #jaskier #witcher #fic recs #fic rec #I'm certain i missed a lot of good ones I've read over the years but I didn't want to risk making this super fucking long anyways #if you didn't see your name listed it isn't bc I don't adore you and your fics it's because i'm stupid <333

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jaskierswolf · 3 years

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Hello darling! I am a greedy greedy panda and I beg for some hug prompt goodies! How about some geraskier and 38. bridal style hug, because we deserve some good things? <3<3 love you!

Wonderful greedy panda! (If anyone is wondering Panda sent me 36 prompts in two hours 😂)

Geraskier featuring demi-romantic Jask, past yenralt, and buffskier!

________

At the age of twenty-one Jaskier had sworn that he would never get married. He’d gone through both college and university with little more than a passing fancy for any of his peers. Sure, he’d had a few one night stands, and the occasional friend that he’d fool around with when they both had a long dry spell, but love? That just hadn’t been on the cards for him. Jaskier had watched with dismay as Geralt and Yennefer had fallen in and out of love on a near weekly basis, and he had been the one to hold Geralt in his arms after every breakup. It hurt to see his best friend in so much pain, but it had been okay. Jaskier knew that he would always be there for Geralt, through thick and thin, for better or for worse.

Perhaps that was why he’d never really noticed that he’d fallen in love?

They’d been best friends for so long, and Jaskier truly did love him, but he’d always thought it had been platonic.

Until one day, crying and drunk, Geralt had kissed him.

And Jaskier’s heart had started doing that weird fluttery thing that everyone always spoke about. That night he’d tucked Geralt into bed with a smile on his face that just wouldn’t fade, but he didn’t really think anymore about it, not until he was driving to work the next day and a cringey love song had come on the radio. Normally, Jaskier would think about his favourite fictional characters when he heard romantic songs, but not that day.

No, he’d thought about Geralt.

It had completely blind-sighted him and he’d nearly crashed the car.

Work that day had been the worst kind of torture. Every waking thought was of Geralt, and that strange unfamiliar feeling in his heart. Jaskier’s chest had actually ached. Honestly he’d figured that was some stupid metaphor but holy mother of fuck, it hurt. A million thoughts had flown through his head, what if he were just a rebound? What if it were just a one night stand?

That night he’d driven to Geralt instead of his house, and the rest, as they say, was history. Dating his best friend had some perks, they’d pretty much skipped the awkward getting to know you dating stage, and honestly their routine hadn’t changed that much at all. There was just more kissing, and less broken-hearted Geralt post-breakup days.

And now they were married.

Jaskier was truly the luckiest of men. How many people could say they got to marry their best friend and the love of their life?

Well, he supposed Geralt could say the same.

“Wait!” Geralt gripped Jaskier’s arm as he went to enter the same house that they’d been living in for four years now.

Jaskier rolled his eyes and turned to his husband. “Yes, dear?”

“It’s tradition!” Geralt pouted, golden eyes wide and pleading.

Ah yes, tradition. Jaskier smirked and tilted his head, one hand on his hips. He knew exactly what Geralt was asking; his big, strong, loving husband wanted to carry him across the threshold.

But please, let it be known that Jaskier Pankratz was a little shit.

Before Geralt could protest, Jaskier scooped his husband into his arms in a rare display of strength, kicking the door open.

“Wait, fuck no!” Geralt grumbled, blushing furiously as he buried his face into Jaskier’s neck.

“Oh, but dear heart, it’s tradition.”

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier pankratz #wolfie’s witcher writing

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bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher · 3 years

Text

like a secret in your throat

y’all asked for whump. y’all got whump. title from “Vampires Will Never Hurt You” by my all-time favorite band, My Chemical Romance

whump, hurt/comfort with a happy ending!

tw: manhandling the bard, vampire transformations (side character), non-sexy biting, blood mention, canon typical injuries/violence

---

Geralt looked up from his mug of ale when he realized that Jaskier had stopped playing. Instead, the bard was chatting merrily away with a tall, broad-shouldered man in a dark cloak. The hood obscured most of the stranger’s face but Geralt caught the reflective glint of a bead or piece of metal braided into his matted black hair. An instinct tickled at the back of the Witcher’s head but Geralt couldn’t quite place the feeling. Something was wrong about this little tableau but he couldn’t figure out what it was; his medallion wasn’t reacting to anything in particular and Jaskier seemed perfectly happy, lost in conversation with the dark-haired man.

Geralt returned his gaze to his mug and let his mind wander.

Jaskier did seem perfectly happy to be without him on nights like these, when they were back in civilization and the extroverted bard could branch out and meet new people. That was the problem, in Geralt’s opinion.

Lately the Witcher had found himself contemplating what life would be like on the Path if he decided to travel alone again. Winter wasn’t close enough for him to excuse himself and go North, but he’d developed a strange and uncomfortable dependence on the bard that he needed to be weaned away from. It wasn’t healthy for either of them.

It wasn’t safe.

If he grew too close to Jaskier, then…

Wouldn’t that be a weakness? Wouldn’t that be a vulnerability and a dangerous closeness? Geralt couldn’t risk forming a connection like that. He couldn’t allow himself to hope for something so organic and pure to develop between a half-monster and a youthful, bright-eyed bard; Witchers weren’t meant to get nice things. That was not his lot in life.

And yet…

Some mornings, when he only barely cracked his eyes open and used his heightened senses to peek across their campsite, he saw Jaskier looking back at him, a curious glint in those pretty blue irises. Geralt couldn’t pinpoint the emotion the bard’s face held; he was bad at that, and the uncertainty of the younger man’s feelings scared him. He could handle rejection, but acceptance? If Jaskier was as loving and openminded as Geralt thought him to be, it could prove to be a problem. Jaskier was too good for a Witcher. He didn’t deserve to be trapped by a life on the Path, dying too young because he was foolhardy and quick to fall in love.

The Witcher’s introspection came to an abrupt halt when the Jaskier in question appeared beside him, flushed and grinning. “Geralt, dear heart, are you ready to retire for the evening?”

“Are you asking me to bed?” the Witcher smirked, smothering the very real ache in his chest at the thought of curling up next to Jaskier like that. “Or do you need to borrow our room to entertain a guest?”

“Oh, no, I have no plans of that nature.” Jaskier’s already pink face darkened a shade and Geralt’s stomach flipped. “I’m actually rather tired. I was hoping to get some decent sleep tonight before we flung ourselves back into nature tomorrow.”

“Hmm. I’ll be along shortly. Don’t wait up.”

“See you in a bit then, dear heart.”

And Jaskier disappeared up the stairs.

Unfortunately, the Witcher didn’t realize he wasn’t the only one watching Jaskier slip into their rented room with a longing expression on his face.

---

“We need to set up camp for the evening,” Geralt announced, bringing Roach to a stop and sliding gracefully down from the saddle. Jaskier loved the way his Witcher looked when he did that, like some kind of fairytale Prince or knight errant. The way his long, silver-white hair shifted and fluttered against his shoulders in the dusky light made him look more like a fantastical painting than a century-old Witcher; even with his scars and his pallid skin tone.

The unconventionally enchanting sight made ballads stir in the most romantic corners of the bard’s busy mind. Words pooled and shifted behind his eyes, arranging themselves into neat rhyming couplets or quatrains.

Geralt of Rivia, tall and fair,

With golden eyes and silver hair;

Whose glare could even douse the sun,

And send a Gryphon on the run.

The bard barely kept himself from sighing aloud as he removed his pack from across his shoulders and unfolded his bedroll and thin travel blanket. The material felt fragile between his calloused fingertips and he sighed forlornly, “I’m going to need a new blanket soon.”

“Hmm.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll pay for it. And I’ll get Roach some new reins while I’m in town,” the bard waved his hand nonchalantly, as if spending money was no big deal. It really wasn’t, all things considered. They would be able to travel far more comfortably if Geralt would allow them to stop in Novigrad and access his University accounts more often. Alas, Witchers are stubborn creatures. “I see the way they chafe her poor muzzle, Geralt, so don’t argue. If you really insist you can pay me back by letting me write a song about the color of your eyes.”

“My… eyes?”

“They’re rather pretty, dear heart, and I think the world could do with a ballad about how they glow when you turn your face toward the sun.”

Geralt felt the back of his neck grow hot and he glanced away, “Hmm.”

“Well, let me know what you think in the morning. I don’t need an answer right away.”

Geralt finished setting up a decent pile of firewood and brought it to life with an efficient burst of Igni. He glanced across the flames to Jaskier and grunted, “I’m going to catch us some dinner. Make tea.”

“Yes, sir,” Jaskier saluted, smiling. Geralt rolled his eyes, grabbed his crossbow, and disappeared into the darkening treeline. Jaskier began to hum as he set up their tea kettle and filled it with water from the waterskin. The humming turned to quiet singing as he measured out two mugs worth of tea from the sachet of dried leaves.

Singing that was cut off with a sharp, sudden cry.

---

Geralt heard the bard scream once. Only once.

The sound punctuated the air before leaving an uncomfortable, grating silence in its wake.

The Witcher took off towards their campfire without a second thought, allowing his instincts to take over and guide him safely back, the potency of Jaskier’s fear hung thick and sour in the air, growing stronger the closer he came to their clearing. When he burst back into view, chest heaving from the sprint, he widened his eyes at the sight before him:

The cloaked figure from the tavern had Jaskier wrapped in his burly arms. One large, long-fingered hand had immobilized Jaskier’s wrists by pressing them into the dip at the base of the bard’s spine, forcing his elbows out and pressing his chest even tighter against the stranger’s.

Jaskier looked up at Geralt beseechingly through his dark, damp lashes. His mouth opened in a silent cry of confusion and pain when the man tugged at his wrists and forced his arms to bend awkwardly. The bard wriggled and strained against the stranger’s iron grip in an effort to escape but the man only snarled in irritation and jerked him back into place. “Bad bard. Stay put, little thing.”

Geralt took a slow step towards his swords, trying to reassure Jaskier with his expression that: Everything will be okay. I will get you out of this. I will protect you and keep you safe… somehow.

Jaskier needed Geralt to pay attention and protect him from harm.

Geralt had failed.

The Witcher watched with wide, horrified eyes as the hulking man keeping Jaskier captive shifted slowly into a far less humanoid form. The baubles braided into his hair jangled and clinked as his nose elongated and his eyes widened. His arms lengthened to form clawed bat-wings and his face thinned and covered over with a layer of grey fur. Fangs burst forth from his gums and slid over his previously humanesque canines. His voice, which had been rasping odd little sounds in the Witcher’s direction, faded into an terrible shriek.

A Katakan.

A Katakan that had snuck in and out of civilization without Geralt so much as smelling it; one that had Jaskier pinned against its chest, the claws of its unoccupied hand sharp and dangerous as they hovered near the bard’s ribcage, ready to pierce but unwilling to waste precious blood unless absolutely necessary. It screamed again, even more shrilly. “Want him!”

Geralt dove forward and pulled his silver sword from its sheath. He swung it in an elegant arc and narrowed his eyes, “Let him go and I might let you live.”

The Witcher’s words were a lie and they both knew it.

The Katakan twitched its long ears in annoyance and hauled Jaskier even closer. It wrenched his arms painfully and the bard whimpered, blue eyes filling steadily with tears. Geralt’s heart seized wretchedly in his chest and he tried his best to ignore it; he couldn’t let his feelings distract him until Jaskier was safe.

“I want him,” the monster rasped, readjusting the bard in its grip. It turned Jaskier around until he was facing the Witcher, releasing his wrists just long enough to pull his hands around to the front before capturing them again. It grazed its two long fangs against the column of Jaskier’s throat and trilled happily. “He sings so pretty. Talks so sweet. Bet he tastes sweet like he talks.”

“Hmm,” Geralt agreed. “He does have a rather pretty singing voice. I suppose that’s why I can’t have you killing him.”

“But he will sing for me,” the vampire shrugged. It shook Jaskier like a toy and the bard’s tears finally fell. He whimpered again when the vampire leaned close and told him: “Sing, little thing. Let me pull lovely music from your veins.”

Jaskier shivered visibly. He gave a few panting, strangled sobs as he slipped into panic, too frightened to move with the vampire’s fangs so close to his neck. He wanted Geralt to finally swing that stupid sword and get this over with. He wanted to curl up in Geralt’s arms and never leave for the rest of his life. He wanted to be taken to Kaer Morhen and hidden away in safety, fuck his music career and the rest of the world. He wanted Geralt to stay in his presence forever, never letting him out of sight again. He wanted…

Before he could finish his thought there was a sharp, piercing, all-encompassing pain at the juncture where his neck met his shoulder.

A keening wail filled the air once.

The vampire bit down harder, its tongue sliding against the skin of the bard’s neck in an effort to urge the blood to exit faster.

There was another high, piteous cry for help and then...

The world went black.

---

When Jaskier opened his eyes again, the world was even darker than it had been before; mostly because the light from both the moon and their campfire was being blocked out by the broad plane of Geralt’s chest, which Jaskier found himself cradled against almost… lovingly. Above him, he heard the Witcher murmuring: “Jaskier, please. Please wake up, Julek. Come on, bard, I kn-”

“G-Geralt?” he managed to croak. He followed it with a very eloquent, “Hunh?”

“Jaskier,” the Witcher sagged with relief, pressing his forehead against the bard’s and breathing in deeply. He tightened his arms around Jaskier, pulling him even closer as his frown disappeared, “Melitele be blessed, you’re alive!”

“Should I not be?” Jaskier asked. He tried to sit up on his own and winced when a bright burst of pain flared out from his shoulder.

“The Katakan- You were bleeding so much and I-” Geralt was, as always, at a loss for words. Jaskier waited patiently, still feeling drowsy and half-alive, and allowed the Witcher to gather his thoughts. His neck ached and his left arm tingled fiercely every time he tried to flex his hand on that side.

“Did it… Am I a vampire now?” he asked. The absurdity of the question broke Geralt from his confusion.

“No,” the Witcher answered swiftly. “You’re still very mortal-” a hand swept through Jaskier’s hair, calming him further “-And unfortunately still very fragile.”

“Are you going to beat yourself up over this for the next week and somehow twist it around until it’s all your fault?”

“Hmm,” Geralt looked away. Jaskier was still being held so very tenderly in his arms, laid across the Witcher’s lap like some kind of swooning maiden. He rather liked how close he was to Geralt and hoped to stay that way for just a little longer. The Witcher surprised them both by letting a full sentence slip into the air between them, “I don’t like seeing you hurt, Jaskier, especially not when… when I was close enough that I could have prevented it from happening at all.”

“Your medallion didn’t give you any hints about this thing back at the inn when I was talking to him? He seemed completely normal, if a little monosyllabic. I’m used to monosyllabic, anyway,” the bard joked, trying to lighten the mood somewhat. It didn’t work; Geralt lifted his head and stared into the fire, his brow already furrowed as he slipped into his private realm of self-loathing. Jaskier was still laying across his lap, his neck and shoulder giving off pulsing aches with every beat of his heart.

Eventually the Witcher spoke again, his voice low and full of frustration. “Katakans are different, they don’t- they don’t set off my medallion the way other creatures do, and they can disguise themselves as people. They can move and talk like people; you saw it transform.”

“I did,” Jaskier grimaced. “And it wanted me to sing while it drank my blood.”

“You didn’t do very much singing,” the Witcher grumbled. “You screamed twice and fainted. It nearly dropped you.”

“If I remember correctly,” the bard smiled playfully, “Someone said my singing was too pretty for me to die.”

“Hmm.”

“It was you, Geralt. You said that.”

“Hmm.”

Jaskier tried to sit up again and nearly passed out from the pain that screamed through the entire left side of his body. “I- Geralt, I-”

“What’s wrong, Julek?” the Witcher asked, adjusting the bard until he was more comfortably enclosed in Geralt’s arms, his back leaning against one of Geralt’s bent legs for support. Geralt’s other leg was straightened out before him and Jaskier let his calves fall atop the Witcher’s thick thighs. They looked like a painting, with Jaskier reclined as he was and Geralt looking at him like that.

“Everything hurts, dear heart. My whole left side feels aflame.”

“It’ll burn like that for a day or so,” Geralt shushed him. “You bled quite a lot, you were bitten, and you hit the ground pretty hard.”

“You didn’t catch me?”

“I was a little busy beheading your attacker and keeping you from becoming a member of the undead,” Geralt scoffed. “Pardon me for not carrying you to safety first.”

“Well since you let me get injured, you have to kiss it better to gain your pardon,” the bard insisted. Geralt’s eyes widened comically and his hand clenched where it was resting on Jaskier’s lower back.

“It’ll- It would hurt if I kissed your wound,” Geralt replied shakily, trying to escape while he still could. Jaskier wasn’t about to let him. Not again.

“Then you’ll just have to kiss my lips instead.”

“Jaskier?”

“Hush, Geralt. I know how you feel about me, and I feel much the same about you. Let’s skip the words bit, because I know that’s not your favorite, and get right to the kissing.”

“Oh, uh...” The Witcher allowed himself to smile. It was a soft, nervous thing but it made his eyes crinkle at the corners and Jaskier felt himself fall even further in love with his darling Geralt. “Alright.”

Geralt cupped the back of Jaskier’s head carefully, tilting his own chin down, and brought their lips together slowly. The bard’s lips were soft and plush and warm beneath his own, giving just slightly but not wilting beneath his touch. It was better than anything he could have imagined. When they pulled apart, Jaskier frowned.

“Was it bad?” Geralt asked automatically, more nervous than he had ever been with another lover.

“No,” Jaskier shook his head. “I just don’t think I’m healed yet. I may require another. Or several more.”

“Well, if the patient thinks it’s necessary,” Geralt grinned, leaning forward again. Jaskier pulled himself up a little to meet him, ignoring the lances of hurt in his arm. “I suppose...”

#geraskier #geraskier ficlet #geraskier fluff #whump and fluff #jaskier whump #katakan #yes i know they can also turn invisible #but that wasn't really gonna help the plot here so sorry #geraskier whump #whump with a happy ending #geraskier whump and fluff #bouncey's endless getting together fics #kissing #first kiss #getting together #jaskier in trouble #wounded jaskier #protective geralt

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bambirex · 8 months

Text

It's A Game We Play: Chapter 2

Pairings: Geraskier, Yennskier, Radskier

Characters: Jaskier, Geralt of Rivia, Yennefer of Vengerberg, Radovid, original female characters, Essi Daven, Priscilla, Ciri of Cintra, Valdo Marx

Additional tags: inspired by Mamma Mia! (movies), crack, alpha/beta/omega dynamics, omega jaskier, alpha geralt, alpha yennefer, beta radovid, awkwardness, jaskier is a good parent, protective jaskier, weddings, found family, post mpreg, fluff and humor, alternate universe - modern setting

Rating: teen and up audiences

Full word count: 4,816 words

Chapter word count: 2,430 words

Chapters: 2/?

Otherwise known as Jaskier's terrible horrible no good past decisions leading to terrible horrible no good outcomes. Also known as the Mamma Mia! AU nobody asked for, but I wrote it anyway.

Chapter summary: Amaryllis goes looking for clues in Jaskier's diary. She finds three of them.

Author's notes: All of your lovely feedback motivated me so much that I had to get this chapter out as soon as possible, thank you all!! ❤️ We're getting a glimpse into Jaskier's past and a very vague introduction to the three potential other parents.

Read on Ao3

Amaryllis knew she was facing quite the challenge with trying to figure out the identity of her other parent, but she was Jaskier's daughter; that meant she inherited the "never-backing-down-from-a-challenge gene". She was going to find out who it was, come hell or high water.

Her Papa was a little too tight-lipped about the whole ordeal. Amaryllis didn't know if it was because he actually had no clue, or because he just didn't want to reveal it, but it seemed like that if it remained up to him, Amaryllis would never find out.

Clearly, pressing Jaskier for further info wouldn't work, so Amaryllis needed a different method to investigate. And how lucky she was to have a father who was such a hopeless romantic with a great artistic streak, that he sentimentally kept a journal all these years- a journal that may or may not have contained the clues about what Amaryllis so desperately wanted to know.

She felt a little bad about rummaging through Jaskier's drawers to find his diary. She's made a promise she would never read his intimate thoughts, but desperate times called for drastic measures.

"Are you sure there's anything of substance in there?" Vera, one of her friends and bridesmaids, asked, as Amaryllis sat them down in her bedroom and waved Jaskier's diary in front of their noses.

"I know he used to write a lot," Amaryllis explained. She ran her fingers over the birds and flowers on the cover. "He even told me himself. It was a kind of comfort for him. Songs, short stories, just talking about his day... he still wrote in it when I was little."

"And you think he also wrote about all the people he's slept with," Marion, her other bridesmaid, pointed out with a chuckle. Amaryllis snorted.

"I know it sounds weird, but I think he did. He's exactly the type of person who would write epic poems about his romances, no matter how short-lived. I think if there's anything that could help us, it's this diary."

There was a chance she was wrong, of course, and that she wouldn't find anything in the diary. But she had to try: she's dreamt about this all her life. About someone who cared for Jaskier the way he deserved, who helped him through everything. Amaryllis knew she couldn't give Jaskier back all those lonely years of raising her alone, but that didn't mean she wasn't going to try and mend things. Maybe it was never too late to try and build the kind of family she and her father both deserved. It was her wedding, after all, which was the best opportunity to make everything perfect.

Taking a deep breath, Amaryllis sat between her friends and opened the diary.

They had to pass through many boring entries about Jaskier's mundane days, and then some angry rants about the one who shall not be named, even though everyone knew exactly, that those entries were about Valdo Marx, Jaskier's biggest rival. They attended the same theater group in high school, and they hated each other with a burning passion, being the two most talented of their peers. They competed with each other all the time, and they applied to the same college of performing arts.

Valdo got in, and Jaskier got pregnant. Jaskier didn’t immediately apply after finishing high school, because he decided to help his aunt on the island by working at the inn. And with having a baby so soon, he never even had the chance to get into that college. Amaryllis swallowed the guilt down heavily.

After many irrelevant drabbles interspersed with various ideas on how Jaskier was planning to murder Valdo, they reached a long segment with many glittery hearts and rainbows drawn on the margins, which caught their attention.

"Look at the date!" Marion squealed, "Summer of 2002!!"

"Shit," Amaryllis's heart sped up. This was it. She was born in the May of 2003, so the summer of 2002 was when Jaskier has spent the most time on the island, and has gotten pregnant with Amaryllis.

"That's a long entry," Vera chuckled. "Slept with a guy named Jonathan... Not very remarkable and he smells like gasoline. Cindy is cute... oh, Cindy is an Omega, we're crossing her off the list. Thomas took me behind a trashcan!? I'll never be able to look into your father's eyes again. Are you planning on going through all of these?"

"Well, we have to narrow it down," Amaryllis said. "Let's count quickly... I was born in May, so nine months back is... August. Let's focus on August."

"August the third, what a night!" Amaryllis read out loud. "After what felt like years of trying to convince him, Geralt finally agreed on spending the night together. Dear Diary, let me tell you, this man is a beast in bed!"

Oh, God. Amaryllis will also never be able to look into her father's eyes again.

"He's so hot, I can't control myself around him. It's been three weeks since he helped me after my car broke down on the road. His defined muscles are practically bursting out of his shirt. I still shiver just remembering the sight of him working on that flat tire... bloated biceps on display... his long, white hair falling into his eyes... those wild, amber eyes, like a wolf, how I wished he would devour me!"

Huh. Jaskier sure had a vivid imagination.

"My brave, strong Alpha knight in black armor! He always wears black. He's spending the month on the island, holidaying with his family. I hope he stays longer, though he says he has to go back to finish college. He's gonna be a personal trainer, which makes so much sense, just look at him! I wanna be in those strong arms all the time. He's a bit grumpy, and he doesn't speak a lot, and he seems so traditional, too, not wanting to jump my bones right away... But then... He did! Dear Diary, when I tell you that he has a huge... "

"Yikes," Amaryllis quickly passed the following, explicit lines about the night Jaskier and his big strong knight spent together. The night when maybe, a white-haired, muscled introvert has knocked up her father.

The next entry was Jaskier talking about being so in love with Geralt, who then broke his heart by telling him that he needed to leave the island earlier with his family, and he didn't want to make things complicated by continuing their romance.

The next entry came a week later. It told the story of Jaskier falling in love again.

"August the tenth, what a night! I was approached by a lovely Beta named Radovid. He is literally blond Prince Charming... not on a white horse, but in a white Bentley. And those blue eyes... and that smile... He's sweet but knows how to flirt. He just inherited his father's company (coconuts? He mentioned what they were trading but I forgot, I think it was coconuts), so he has lots of money. Has the idea of being a sugar baby crossed my mind for a hot second? Maybe. But actually, he could be completely broke and I would still end up in his lap with how smoothly he was talking me out of my pants all night."

"Oh, Papa," Amaryllis chuckled, "you're so easy, bless your little slutty heart."

"He told me I was the prettiest Omega he has ever seen, and that he would love to hear me sing one day! He looked so good in that maroon button up, I couldn't wait to get him out of it. He ordered me the most expensive drink. I didn't want to offend him by telling him it tasted like dishwater. The way he looked at me over the rim of his glass was worth it, though. He could peel an orange open with just one look. We spent a wonderful night together. Very gentle and generous lover! I especially liked it when he..."

"Dude," Vera groaned, "why does your father have to go into such details?"

"Well, he never intended this to end up in our hands," Amaryllis chuckled.

Of course, the Disney Prince left the same way Geralt, the big buff paramour did: his freshly inherited business called out for him, and he left a very sad, and possibly pregnant Jaskier behind on the island.

But Jaskier wasn't mourning for long.

"August the twenty-fifth, what a night! I think I've mentioned Yennefer the chef in training before, right? She's working at the inn for this summer, and I've been trying to seduce her for two months and she refused all of my advances! But then Auntie threw a little party, and this time, she was the one that came up to me! She's such a sassy Alpha. Insanely hot too. Very sharp tongue and also very talented, if you know what I mean... "

They didn't need to know what he meant because Jaskier described it quite vividly in the next paragraph.

"I'm pretty sure the guests heard us going at it the whole night, but it was worth it! She's so beautiful, I couldn't stop looking at her lying next to me, raven-haired, violet-eyed supermodel, God! I wish I could paint so I could capture her beauty as she lay bare next to me. I'm already sad knowing she will have to go home soon, but maybe I can try and convince her to stay..."

He didn't manage, clearly, because Yennefer also went home, oblivious to the fact that maybe she and Jaskier made a baby on that night.

Amaryllis put the diary down with a big sigh. So many emotions swirled inside her: excitement over finally finding clues, sadness for her father's broken heart, also a whole amount of nervousness realizing that three horses were in this race. Her other parent was one of the three that Jaskier played hanky panky with in August.

"It's one of them," Amaryllis said, staring down at the tiny sandpiper in the corner of the cover. "But God, which one?"

"It's hard to tell, like, we cannot exactly determine the date of your conception," Marion replied. "But, out of the thousand people your father has slept with, we managed to narrow it down to Muscle Man, Ritchie Ritch, and Savage Soufflé."

"That's still three people!" Amaryllis threw her hands up in frustration. "How am I supposed to decide which one's the real one?"

She dropped her hands into her lap with a deep sigh. She got closer to the solution, but instead of making things easier, this revelation actually complicated everything even more. Amidst the sea of people Jaskier has had sex with, stood out three islands, but they were so distant.

She couldn't figure it out just by looking at their names. And she couldn't figure it out by asking Jaskier. She looked down on the diary, then opened it again. On the margins, next to the tiny doodles, were addresses scribbled down- with a tiny note saying "if I'd be brave enough to go after them."

An idea formed in her head. A crazy one, perhaps, but right now, it felt like her only chance of finding the other parent she was longing for.

"I'd know if I met them," Amaryllis eventually said. Seeing her friends' confused faces, she continued. "I think if I saw them in person, if I talked to them... I would feel it. Papa wrote down their address. I could send them a letter."

"Or you could find them on social media like any normal person would," Marion told her. "A letter? In this century?"

"Yeah, well... they don't know me. But they know my Papa. And if I wrote in his name and asked them to come see him... they might. I don't want to leave any traces behind, and once something lands on the internet, it stays there forever... besides, I know my father is a hopeless romantic. If he were to write a letter to his previous beaus, he would go all traditional and write a letter with his own hands."

"And what are the chances their address is still the same?" Vera chimed in. "And that the mailman would deliver a letter to someone whose last name you don't even know?"

"I have to try. That's the only way I can figure out who it is. And not a word about this to my father!"

She stared at the hearts on the margins, and smiled. Her Papa will absolutely kill her if he finds out, but that was a risk she was willing to take if it meant finally finding the rest of her family.

Strange. Jaskier could have sworn his diary was in the third drawer, not the second. But maybe he remembered it wrong.

He sat on the bed and hugged his diary to his chest with a sigh. It was silly of him, to suddenly feel the need to take a trip down memory lane just now, but truth be told, Amaryllis's question triggered some memories; memories of passionate nights and happy mornings, syrupy-sweet romances and horrible heartaches.

His heart got broken, and he broke other people's hearts, many times. As a young, reckless Omega who fell in love with anyone, he didn't really stop to care.

But now, his adult daughter needed an answer that Jaskier brushed under the rug all the time. Did he not know who it was? He didn't, not really. Did he not have a clue?

Well. He wasn't very good at Math, but he was able to count to nine. It wasn't as if the idea never crossed his mind, and while he has went through half the population of the island that summer, there was only a handful of people he had sex with in August, shockingly.

But Jaskier promised himself he would never go there, even though those three somehow always stood out - his feelings for them ran a little deeper than for the rest. He even had half a mind to seek them out after he parted from them, but he was too much of a coward. And a slut, probably. Who knows, maybe one of his one-night stands that came after knocked him up. Anything was possible with how much he used to sleep around.

They were all in the past, anyway. Those three, and the several others, too. It would tear up too many scars to try and get into this too deeply.

He needed to focus on making Amaryllis's big day special, instead.

#the witcher fanfiction #the witcher fic #geraskier #yennskier #radskier #a/b/o #omega jaskier #alpha geralt #alpha yennefer #beta radovid #jaskier #geralt of rivia #yennefer of vengerberg #radovid #my fic #mamma mia au

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softnoblecyno · 3 years

Text

Bad Reputation (pt. 4)

part 1, part 2, part 3, and finally part 4 (you are here!)

Jaskier/Eskel, ~1.4k, rated T, no warnings

i wrote this for the @thewitcherbog fic train event! my partners are @kueble, @professorjaskier, and @wolf-and-bard! this fic is so wonderful, i loved reading and writing it! thank you so much for reading, i hope you enjoy!

here on ao3

—

“Let me go!” Jaskier yells and squirms, trying to peel Eskel’s arms off his waist. “He deserves it!” Eskel doesn’t budge. He carries Jaskier away from the commotion and gossiping, taking them to a bench on the edge of the Great Hall where there’s less people. Despite how excitedly all of the guests had rushed to watch Jaskier’s fight up close, they now give Eskel a wide berth. They stare at the two friends with wide eyes, their attention split between a witcher they are fearful and curious of, and an apparently revered professor currently held off the ground in the witcher’s arms. Eskel can feel each and every one of the guest’s gazes like needles poking into his skin.

Behind them, Eskel can hear the man that Jaskier jumped raving, “Some professor he is! What if Julian attacked a student like that?” Eskel’s gut churns uncomfortably. Jaskier came here to upkeep his standing with the university and show he’s a good influence. Instead, because of Eskel, he looks… rash. Violent. Why does he care so much about what that man was saying? Turmoil swirls in Eskel’s chest. His grip around Jaskier tightens.

“Eskel! Put me down!” Jaskier shouts again and slaps at Eskel’s arms. He doesn’t hit very hard— Eskel knows he could try harder to get away, or actually hurt him. But he doesn’t. The show of trust would usually make Eskel bashful. Now it makes him… uneasy.

“No.”

People are staring still. Eskel’s shoulders crawl up to his ears. Jaskier struggles for a moment longer and then goes limp, a whine leaving his lips. They reach the bench and Eskel sets Jaskier down before sitting next to him. He glances at Jaskier, chest tight, but Jaskier doesn’t meet his eyes. He’s glaring daggers at the man he attacked, even all the way across the hall.

“Jaskier.”

His friend still doesn’t look at him.

“I mean, who does Valdo think he is?” Jaskier huffs, unprompted. His usually soft cornflower blue eyes are hardened with rage. Eskel’s heart twists in his chest. “He doesn’t know anything about me, or— or Geralt, and he doesn’t know fuck all about you!” Jaskier stands, rash and twitchy; Eskel lurches forward to catch him, but Jaskier doesn’t rush back to fight. He only paces. It’s more stalking than pacing, back and forth like a caged tiger. His gaze switches between Valdo and the horizon, agitated and erratic. Eskel has never seen Jaskier like this.

“Why would you do that?” Eskel asks, voice tight.

Jaskier finally turns to him, his face stuck in a scowl. “Because! Valdo was saying all these- these resolutely untrue things—”

Eskel cuts him off, shaking his head. “I heard what he said. Why would you attack him? You’re never that aggressive.”

“You’ve never been around me when he’s the topic of conversation, clearly,” Jaskier snorts. “Agh, he just— he always riles me up. It’s like I can’t control myself whenever he’s brought up, and today he was there in person and-”

“Jaskier.” Eskel levels the bard with a serious look, conflicted. “You told me that you’re here to keep up appearances, but you just threw yourself at a man. Why the fuck would you do that?”

Despite the circumstances, Jaskier’s expression softens. Eskel’s heart flutters in his chest. “Isn’t it obvious?” He’s still trying to work out what Jaskier means by that when Jaskier grabs his hand. “I just… Valdo implied that I was only with you because Geralt isn’t here, and then he called you ugly— a blatant lie— and I… I…”

“You attacked him because he pointed out my scars?” Eskel’s scratching at them before he fully realizes he’s doing it.

Jaskier smiles at him fondly. “I hit him because he insulted my close friend, and you don’t deserve that.” Eskel shies away from Jaskier’s gaze, his cheeks warming.

“It’s my fault, then,” Eskel drops Jaskier’s hand, not meeting his eyes. “That your reputation was sullied.”

“What?” Jaskier reels back, then hurriedly sits beside Eskel on the bench. “No, Eskel, of course it’s not your fault—”

Eskel’s thoughts race. His gaze drifts up to the party, and watches the guests dance on the floor, carefree… He stands abruptly, spinning to face Jaskier with a smile. “Let me make it up to you,” he says, offering a hand to Jaskier. A blush rises high on his cheeks, but he fights through it, meeting Jaskier’s gaze unwaveringly. “May I have this dance, Jaskier?”

Jaskier’s eyes go wide. Even through the noise Eskel can hear his heart beat faster.

“To mend your reputation,” Eskel backtracks, forcing down any awkwardness he feels. “Some skillful dancing should impress the university, sway them back in your favor.”

Jaskier seems to break out of whatever stupor he had fallen into. His lips split into a wide grin. He takes Eskel’s hand and stands, fingers sliding into Eskel’s palm.

“Why, of course,” Jaskier purrs playfully. “I could never refuse you.” He leans in close and whispers his next words to Eskel like they’re a secret. “Although, to be honest, I couldn’t care less about my reputation.”

Eskel turns his cheek and doesn’t notice he’s scratching his scars again until Jaskier stops him, his hand curling around Eskel’s wrist. He guides Eskel’s hand to his lips, kissing it gently. Eskel can’t find anything to say, gaze locked on Jaskier’s.

“Come on,” Jaskier says, meeting Eskel’s eyes again with a warm smile. Eskel can’t do anything but nod.

As Jaskier leads them back into the crowd, Eskel becomes stressed. Strangers’ gazes burn into him again. He’s about to tell Jaskier to forget it, to sit down and get the attention off of him but Jaskier stops and faces Eskel. The bard tugs him close with one hand around the back of his neck, pressing them together so that Eskel can feel Jaskier’s chest rise and fall with each breath. Eskel can’t hide the way his breath hitches with the proximity.

“Relax.” Jaskier’s breath washes over Eskel’s skin as he tucks his face into the witcher’s shoulder. “Dancing is supposed to be fun.” He squeezes lightly at Eskel’s hip, rubbing his thumb back and forth.

For a long moment Eskel is frozen in Jaskier’s arms. Then Jaskier starts to hum along with the band, his voice lilting and familiar. Eskel melts, allowing Jaskier to sway them back and forth to the leisurely beat.

They stay together, perfect, for two songs. Jaskier tenses up, then, imperceptible to anyone but a witcher; Eskel is about to ask him what’s wrong when—

“I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable,” Jaskier murmurs, tucked into Eskel’s neck. “I wasn’t trying to. I meant to…” He fumbles over his words, then settles on, “I wanted to protect you, is all.”

Jaskier’s serious demeanor and the way he’s speaking carefully does something strange to Eskel. He doesn’t understand what there is for Jaskier to protect him from, but it obviously matters to Jaskier. Eskel drops his cheek against the top of Jaskier’s head, ignoring the continuing flutter in his chest. He knows what it means, and now isn’t the time for it. There will never be a time for it.

Jaskier goes quiet and loose against Eskel at the contact. Eskel closes his eyes, feeling off-balance. You can’t have this, he reminds himself. “I know,” He says, and he means it.

Eskel expects Jaskier to stay close, but instead he pulls back, tucking a hand behind Eskel’s ear and tilting him so their gazes meet. Eskel’s heart rabbits uncomfortably fast, but he doesn’t dare look away from Jaskier. “I’ll always protect you, Eskel.”

A lump rises in Eskel’s throat. You can’t have this. You don’t get to have this. “I’m a witcher, Jask.” He leans into Jaskier’s hand and as it slides to cup his jaw, and can’t stop his gaze from flicking to Jaskier’s lips. “I don’t need protection.”

“Not from monsters,” Jaskier concedes. Eskel’s eyebrows furrow, but he doesn’t interrupt. “But if I can protect you from rude comments, or— or from any sort of discomfort at all, I will. I will always want you to be happy and safe.”

The world stands still.

That sounds… significant. He can’t pin down exactly why until his eyes wander to Jaskier’s necklace, resting against his chest. The cobalt glass reminds Eskel of how he feels about Jaskier; he brings Jaskier gifts because Jaskier is always on his mind. Always. He wonders what memories the necklace brings to Jaskier’s mind— will it remind him about his reputation being ruined? Or about risking it to make sure Eskel felt… safe.

Eskel’s gaze widens. He realizes, suddenly, that Jaskier might care about him the same way he cares about Jaskier. Why else would he risk so much, or say these things? And if Jaskier feels the same way, then…

Eskel wraps his arm around his waist and captures Jaskier’s lips in his own.

Jaskier makes a high, surprised note in the back of his throat, and lifts onto the balls of his feet, pushing into the kiss. He hums, pleased, and deepens the kiss.

Jaskier surrounds him, and all Eskel can sense is love.

thank you for reading!!

#witcher #witcher netflix #witcher fic #eskier #eskier fic #jaskel #jaskel fic #my writing

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pillage-and-lute · 4 years

Text

Thicker Than Water (Part 1)

Post-mountain, heavy angst with a happy ending Geraskier, featuring platonic Yennskier and Yennalt. + immortal Jaskier and Ciri getting the family she deserves. PG-13? (Mentions of but no actual sex, brief mention of familial abuse, very very minor character death) This first bit is mostly just Jaskier’s sad reflections post-mountain.

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

Ao3 link HERE

{AN:This is me (an adhd person) writing Jaskier as adhd, based on my experiences, but my experiences with adhd are not universal, but some of you may recognize Rejection Sensitivity Dysphoria. Also, because it’s never explicitly stated in the fic, feel free to headcanon him however you like.}

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Jaskier never got an apology after the mountain. He’d never gotten the rest of the story from the others either, but after everything it didn’t seem all that important. Maybe it never had been.

Twenty-two years.

It wasn’t so long, not when Jaskier knew he had an entire lonely eternity to look forward to. But to be fair, he hadn’t known that twenty-two years ago. He hadn’t even known it last week. It turns out having a very pleasurable liaison with a high priestess who had just so happened to be the mortal vessel for a minor goddess, has its perks. He’d seen her in a bar three nights ago and she’d bought him a cup of milk and asked him how immortality was going.

Of course, he’d thought she was joking. He was pretty heavily into his sixth? seventh? pint of the evening. It was strong stuff and she’d bought him milk to sober up. He just told her his skin care must be working and she explained that, yes, it was, his skin looked very nice, but no, that wasn’t why he still looked twenty-three.

Then a fan had bought him some rather nice gin and after that he doesn’t remember the evening. He hoped he’d bid the priestess goodbye.

He’d been drinking more lately. Jaskier had never actually had much of a head for drink, preferring to sip a light wine than down things more akin to paint thinner. Now, though, well. It was the mountain, wasn’t it? He’d never taken rejection well. Oh, sure, a potential lover turning him down was one thing, admittedly it stung, but he would never force unwanted affections, and he’d always had a mobile heart, ready to fall in love with someone new. Criticism on his music? That depended, the reasoned, encouraging criticism of a good professor was fine. Nothing else was. He poured his heart and soul into everything he sang, even if it was just a nonsense song or a ditty plucked out on the road. Having it criticized cut straight through him, especially by those he cared about.

The hurt ran deeper though. The youngest son of a minor noble, with two big, strong, fighting brothers and one sickly but pretty younger sister, Lotte, he’d always been a bit of an odd duck. His brothers had heckled him, but they hadn’t been home often. His father had beat him, but that pain at least was only physical. His mother ignored him. That had hurt. It still hurt, when he thought of it. Lancing through him like a knife of ice. And then Lotte, who had loved his stories and music, had died. A fever took her suddenly in the night and after that Lettenhove held no more light for him. So he left and his father was happy to see him go.

Some things you bring with you. His family had never given him any gifts, but left him with a lifetime of baggage. Their voices in his head telling him he was never good enough, a weakling, a burden. A shit shoveler.

Sometimes a much smaller voice, that sounded a little like Lotte piped up. He was good at music. He brought people joy. But it was so much weaker than the constant barrage of hate.

And now Geralt.

Jaskier wanted to believe that Geralt didn’t hate him, that twenty-two years of grunts and silences meant at least a glimmer of friendship. But how could it? Jaskier’s own family hadn’t wanted him, and here he was, forlorn that after he’d inflicted himself on Geralt for two decades he’d finally been thrown aside. Like the garbage he always had been. He tried not to let himself think about it too much, but somehow the thoughts always found him. Usually at the bottom of a bottle. Or three.

There were no doubts in his mind about Geralt. Jaskier could never believe Geralt a cruel man, not after years of watching him fight dreadful monsters for less coin than chimneysweeps earned. Years of him patiently bearing the worst of people and cleaning up their messes and saving lost baby birds. Jaksier never would have believed it, if not for the testimony of his own two eyes. Geralt had scooped the downy thing up in one massive hand and examined it with such tenderness in his honey-gold eyes that Jaskier wanted to cry. A part of him wished, if only for a moment, that he was the bird, to be cradled in a strong, gentle hand and be the focus of such attentive care. He didn’t wish to be the bird later, when it died. Lost, injured baby birds often do, and Jaskier had played a sad little tune as Geralt buried it carefully.

A man, a witcher, who buried and mourned a baby bird, was not bad. Not a monster or cruel, although sometimes a bit unkind.

At the bottom of bottles and pints Jaskier wanted to hate Geralt, wanted to think him a monster, a butcher, he even wrote it into his songs, a garroter. He couldn’t do it. He found plenty of room to hate himself though.

Every sore point in Geralt’s life, at least those within the last two decades, had indeed been Jaskier’s fault. The banquet? Jaskier had insisted, practically dragged Geralt into a messy political situation, even if it looked like a party on the surface. The djinn? He’d provoked a sleep deprived Geralt and then pouted like a child when his singing was mocked. For Melitele’s sake he’d called Geralt butcher when they’d met. He wondered sometimes why Geralt hadn’t left him to the tender mercies of the djinn. He knew why.

Because Geralt was kind. Not a gentleman, not with the talking to his horse, and the growling, and the (admittedly not that bad) smell. Not a gentleman, but a gentle man.

Geralt had been kind enough to put up with a troublesome bard. A bard who, young and green as he’d been in Posada, would have had his neck slit by bandits or thieves before his twentieth year. He’d pitied Jaskier and let him stick around, putting up with him as no one else had. Not his parents or his brothers, not Valdo, his first love, who’d subsequently cheated on him and laughed at his tears, not even his various dalliances put up with him. A night of pleasure was all he could offer, out the door (or window, or over the hedge) in the morning, lest he burden them with his presence too long and be stabbed by their rejection. Everyone had their breaking point though, and Geralt had reached his after twenty years, as well as a breakup, a dragon man, and Jaskier asking to run away together all within twenty-four hours.

That left Jaksier, lost in a forest with no money and only sad songs to sing, which don’t bring much coin in a world that already knows enough sorrow, two months after the dragon hunt.

Things were bad. For Jaskier and everyone else. He had no money for warm clothes or new boots, and winter was fast approaching. Nilfgaard’s soldiers were looking for him, they stormed everywhere, searching for the White Wolf and his charge, or anyone who might know something. Cintra had fallen, and it’s lioness with it, and Jaskier could only hope that the child surprise, whose name day banquets he’d missed not one, had met her destiny at last.

He hoped his destiny wasn’t skewered on the end of a Nilfgaardian blade.

He couldn’t go to Oxenfurt. They’d look for him there, and he had too many friends whose lives he would endanger as well. Here, on the road, he was anonymous. His fine clothes were dulled with dirt and wear, and his hair was longer, curling at the ends and bout his ears as it was wont to do when he went without a hair cut. He hadn’t shaved in a couple days either. Jaskier hoped he looked dashing, but he suspected he just looked scruffy.

He certainly didn’t look like the famous bard Jaskier, herald of the White Wolf, though, so perhaps it was all for the better.

And then, in the middle of a forest, with the first frosts of autumn on the ground, he met the amethyst eyes of a sorceress.

Fuck.

#geraskier #fanfiction #post-mountain fix it #not yet though #they haven't worked through their emotional trauma yet #tw: alcohol #adhd Jaskier #the witcher #geralt of rivia #geralt x jaskier

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trekkiepirate · 3 years

Text

Master of All

My Witcher Secret Santa gift for @motionalocean! @thewitchersecretsanta

Crossposted to AO3 HERE

nearly 9.2K of BAMF!Jaskier and Geralt being progressively more smitten. 5 Times Jaskier Is Good At Things Geralt Didn't Expect And The 1 Thing He Knew Jaskier Was Good At. PG-13 for bad words, canon-typical violence, and the +1 Under cut because it’s hella long.

1. Pickpocketing

“Well,” Jaskier huffed, “I sincerely hope you missed one of those ghouls and they come back and eat this whole rotten village. Starting with that alderman. No, starting with his appalling son who has the AUDACITY to claim he was a better singer than me. My gods, Geralt, I don’t even think I’ll complain of the lack of a roof and a bed this evening. Sleeping under the stars with my very dear friend-“

“-not friends,” Geralt huffed.

The interruption entirely ignored by Jaskier. “-who is twice, thrice, no no no ten, a hundred, a THOUSAND times the man that they could ever dream of being. Asking a man-“

“-not a man,” Geralt said, expecting, correctly, Jaskier would ignore this comment too.

Jaskier, instead, whirled and looked at Geralt like he had punched him. Actually, he looked more upset than when Geralt has, in fact, punched him. “Of course you’re a man.” Jaskier tilted his head. “Well, I cannot say for certain as I have not yet seen you… in a state of undress. Though not that the having of a penis makes one a man. It’s more about your own identity-”

“Jaskier,” Geralt sighed, sliding two now-skinned hares onto sticks over the fire.

“You’re a man because that’s who you tell the world you are.”

“I don’t.”

It seemed only every other sentence was going to get through Jaskier’s tirades as he stopped speaking.

For a few blissful seconds. “Geralt,” Jaskier put his hands on his hips, voice exasperated as if he were a teacher who expected better of his pupil. “Geralt,” he said again, “you are the best man I have ever met. Smarter than any scholar, kinder than any priest, more noble than any titled twat.”

Geralt blinked. Jaskier seemed so sincere. “We’ve just met.”

“Right, well, we’ve actually been traveling together for four months, but I imagine time feels different when you’re basically immortal, so we’ll let that slide.”

A frown twisted Geralt’s face. “You’re young. You can’t have met that many people.”

Jaskier pursed his lips and put on what he called his Viscount voice. Though why he’d pretend to be a Viscount was beyond Geralt. “I studied for years at the most prestigious and widely attended university on the Continent. I have met plenty of people, Geralt. And you are still the best one I know.”

Geralt hmmed. “Your good opinion won’t buy us a roof and a bed.”

A grin like a succubus, pretty and dangerous, spread over Jaskier’s face. He reached into his trousers and produced a bag of coins. “It might do.”

The same bag of coins that the alderman had refused to give Geralt after he cleared a nest of ghouls from a field. He’d taken three crowns and told Geralt that it couldn’t be worth the whole bag if it only took him an hour.

As it was, most of that hour was building the bomb he’d need to destroy the nest. The ghouls had been sated by feeding on villagers who’d tried to kill them and were slow.

“Where-” Geralt shook his head, he knew the answer to that one. “How?”

Jaskier tossed the bag in the air and caught it. He continued doing so as he spoke. “Remember when I gestured around his, frankly gaudy and most certainly fake, prized vase?”

Geralt stared at the boy. “You distracted him by making him think you might break his vase and then stole his coin out of his pocket.”

“Exactly! Really it’s his fault for so blatantly putting the coin away while looking down his nose at you.” Jaskier grinned bright and extracted one coin from the bag before handing it to Geralt.

“Thief’s fee?” Geralt nodded at the coin.

Jaskier’s smile got even more mischievous. He balanced the coin on his thumb, then flicked it.

It hit Geralt in the chest and fell into his lap.

“Well, tossing a coin is the chorus of the song anyway,” he winked, then spun around, grabbing a cooked hare and blowing on it before taking a large bite. “They’ll see,” he said as he chewed, “my song will become a hit! ‘Toss a Coin’ will be sung the entire length and breadth of the Continent and men like that will be the pariahs, the outcasts. Anyone who denigrates a witcher will be spit upon in the streets. See how they like that!” Jaskier’s next bite was near savage, tearing the meat from the bone. But the next moment, he grinned over the fire at Geralt. “And until it does become a hit and you are lauded as the hero you are, and don’t say you’re not a hero, I see your mouth opening and you can very well shut it again for all the credence I’m going to give you saying you’re not a hero.” He gestured wildly with his hare, grease dripping slowly down his hand and forearm, on display since he’d rolled up the sleeves as his chemise on such a warm night.

Geralt found his next breath a little harder to take as he stared at the bare forearm. He hmmed and took up his own meal.

“So until that day, I will gladly make sure you are properly paid for your work,” he waggled the fingers of his left hand at Geralt. “One way or another.”

“Don’t get caught,” Geralt said. “I won’t break you out of any jail cell you land in.”

Jaskier laughed. “That is a bald-faced lie. You did the exact thing two towns ago and that wasn’t even me risking my freedom and safety for you to be given all you deserve.”

Geralt looked up at Jaskier, then quickly back to his hare when he found the expression on Jaskier’s face too… too much like something warm settling in his stomach. He ate the rest of the hare as fast as he could.

No one had ever said Geralt deserved anything. Not anything nice, anyway. But Jaskier seemed to think that Geralt was a kind of hero in a tale and wanted him to be treated as such.

Fool’s errand, he thought. Jaskier was young and didn’t know how the world worked outside of the high walls of a university. He’d learn. Until then…

“Fine.”

Having gone back to eating, Jaskier was silent for a moment as if trying to recall where the conversation was picking up from. “What’s fine? Oh! Me stealing when people refuse to pay you your just wage. Of course it’s fine. Don’t worry your pretty head for a moment; I’ve never been caught yet.” He waggled his fingers in Geralt’s direction. “Dexterity is name of the game when one spends one’s life dedicated to possibly the most delicate and finnicky instrument known to man.” He looked down at his gifted elven lute like it was his flesh and blood child, so loving and soft.

When he raised his head and looked at Geralt, his adoring expression didn’t change in the least.

Geralt cleared his throat and threw the hareless stick onto the fire. ‘Go to sleep, Jaskier.”

A few more large bites and Jaskier did as he was told, snuggling into his bedroll. Which Geralt had bought him when Jaskier proved that no amount of silence or disinterest would keep him from staying at Geralt’s side, praising every deed in song. He picked up the bag of coin and wandered over to Roach to tuck it safely in her saddlebag.

The horse nickered softly and seemed to throw her head repeatedly in Jaskier’s direction.

“Don’t get attached,” Geralt scolded.

Roach tilted her head in Jaskier’s direction and kept it there.

Geralt sighed and whispered into the still night air. “Thank you, Jaskier.” He patted Roach, now seemingly satisfied, and made his way to his own bedroll, set a bit behind Jaskier’s so the bard was close to the warm fire and that anything that leapt at them from the woods would have to get through Geralt before it could get to Jaskier.

He laid there, thinking about how quickly making sure the boy warm and safe had become a priority.

2. Knowing Who The Nobles Are Everywhere They Go

“Nope,” Jaskier plucked the sun-faded paper from Geralt’s hand, ignoring Geralt’s exasperated expression. “Oh no, no, no, no. Nope, you will not be taking this. Well, you will not be taking this contract with Duke Hereward. He’s an absolute bastard and will quite surely stiff you of your deserved coin. No, we’d best find where,” he squinted at the ink, “Meadwood Farms is and go straight to the farmers themselves. Hereward will weasel his weasely way out of giving you anything. I’d gladly steal anything he might have of worth-“

Geralt glanced around, hoping no one who worked for the Duke was listening, as Jaskier did not seem to understand what the word ‘discretion’ meant.

“-alas the double-edged sword of fame means if something were to go mysteriously but deservedly missing after we took our leave, I’d find my lovely new position as a professor at Oxenfurt suddenly taken from me.” He smiled at Geralt. “I need something to do during the winter while you hide away in your Witchery mountains to do… mountainous Witchery things.”

Suppressing the urge to smile, Geralt nodded towards the inn. “I’m sure someone will know who owns the farm in there.”

Jaskier grabbed Geralt’s arm and began to drag him (well, steer him as if Geralt had truly not wanted to be led, there was no way the boy, barely into his twenties, could move him) towards the inn. “Good people of Ellander!”

“Jaskier,” Geralt nearly rolled his eyes.

“Your prayers to the Great Meletile have been answered,” Jaskier continued. “Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf himself, has come to aid you with your monster problems. Merely point us to Meadwood Farms and you shall soon see why Geralt is the hero of the Continent.”

Geralt was strangely glad his body no longer had the ability to blush. Jaskier’s absolute faith in Geralt was steadfast and it made something heavy and warm settle in Geralt’s chest. He wasn’t sure he wanted to be able to feel this way, to be so… cared about.

A pretty-eyed maiden made her way over to them. She smiled brightly at Jaskier. “I work at the farm. I’d be ever so glad to lead you… and the witcher there.”

The eye rolling couldn’t be controlled this time, as Jaskier immediately brightened under her attentions. “Well lead on, good miss. I presume it’s miss?”

“It is,” she giggled.

Geralt was rather glad they barely paid any heed to him as they flirted their way across town to the countryside. “What is it?” Geralt eventually asked.

Both Jaskier and the young woman, Elzbet apparently, startled as if they’d forgotten Geralt was still there. They probably had.

“The monster,” Geralt clarification. “What is it?”

Elzbet shrugged. “I didn’t see it. I do not know. Master Prospero was the one who saw it. He’s in the big house.”

Jaskier grinned. “Yes, yes, Geralt head up to see Master Prospero. Elzbet has promised to show me a most charming little corner of the barn. Apparently, there’s an owl’s nest there.”

Geralt would turn over every coin he received for the contract if there was actually an owl’s nest anywhere in the barn. All Jaskier was likely to see was up the girl’s skirts. Stomping away with a little more force than he probably needed to use, Geralt found the farm owner and got the information he needed.

It was a nest of nekkars and Geralt has cleared them all out by that night. The reward scraped together by the workers was only a third of what Hereward had promised, but it was given in gratitude and with open hands. Prospero himself was so grateful, he offered Geralt and Jaskier a room in his home for the night, as well as their dinner that night and breakfast the next morning.

Jaskier spent most of the night trying to find a suitably dirty rhyme he approved of for owl.

“Howl. Or yowl, which I will make you do if you do not put that candle out.” Geralt said at last.

“Oh you,” Jaskier tsked as he quickly scribbled down a few more lines. “You know what that Witchery magic does to me.” He winked.

Geralt buried his head further into the pillow. “Didn’t get enough with your farm girl?”

Jaskier gasped, affronted. “Excuse you, Elzbet is more than a farm girl, she is the love of my life.” He sighed dreamily. “I might stay, you know. With her.”

“Better her than me,” Geralt grumbled.

“I know you don’t truly mean those words or I’d be heartbroken beyond repair to hear you say that,” Jaskier shrugged out of his doublet and pinched out the candle flame between his licked fingers. “But what if I did? Stay?”

Geralt huffed. “You’d make a piss poor farmer.”

Jaskier laughed lightly. “Probably true.” He sighed. “Would you miss me?”

“Go to sleep, Jaskier,” Geralt said in lieu of an actual answer. “If you’re to be a farmer, you must get used to early mornings.”

Humming thoughtfully, Jaskier settled down, the line of his back just an inch away from Geralt’s in the bed. “Good night, Geralt.”

In the morning, Jaskier packed and took his place at Geralt’s side. He tried out lyrics and chords and by the time he and Geralt made camp that night, Jaskier had a new ballad. It was about love between a wanderer and a maiden, whom he loved but left to follow the open road he had long ago promised his heart to, his truest love.

Though he never actually sang the word road, Geralt realized as he watched Jaskier sing it a week later in a tavern. The song itself was called Walking The Path.

3. Gwent

“Dammit,” Geralt growled as he threw down his remaining card. A clear weather was useless when there were no weather cards in effect. The score was tied, but his opponent played with a Nilfgaardian deck and therefore won all ties.

The smarmy git was smiling at him like a smarmy git. “Fair is fair,” he held out a hand, “I’ll be taking your unique card now.”

It was lying next to the card the other man had anted up in the center of the table, but clearly humiliation was part of his winnings.

Geralt picked up the card and dropped it into the other man’s hand. “Here.”

“Better luck next time,” the bastard called out and he gestured another player to take Geralt’s place.

He still had all the coin he’d won, the cards had been the only prizes in that last round, so Geralt went over to the bar and ordered two ales and a glass of wine.

By the time he was picking up the second mug of ale, Jaskier had finished his set and bounded over, downing the wine in one go as always and ordering himself another.

“What’s this face? Is my singing truly that bad? Please know, if you say anything about pie, I will be forced to waste this lovely wine on your rude head.” Geralt grunted. “Singing was fine. Lost my game is all.”

Jaskier tilted his head. “You were winning when I last checked in on you.” He looked at his glass. “Do you need some coin? I got a fair amount tonight, people around here are very anti-Nilfgaard and my lovely little ditty went a treat. You must have heard the cheers.”

Geralt nodded. He had. In between games, he’d kept his eye on Jaskier. The djinn incident was two weeks ago, but this was Jaskier’s first performance since he almost lost his voice. And life.

The bard had been nervous and Geralt hadn’t even started playing gwent until the anxious scent faded into his usual confident burst of sundried linen and mint. The crowd was just as adoring, just as loud as always. Jaskier’s voice hadn’t suffered any permanent damage and Geralt was relieved. After all, his unthinking words had been the reason Geralt had almost lost… that Jaskier had almost lost his voice.

“Not coin,” Geralt said at last, draining his mug. “Lost my best card though. Drew an unlucky hand and couldn’t seem to bring it back around. Ended in a draw, but the bastard played as Nilfgaard so he took the tie.”

Jaskier frowned. “No chance to get it back?”

Geralt shrugged. “He plays here a lot, apparently. Has rules about only one match per opponent.” He shook his head. “Nothing for it.”

Putting down his half full glass, Jaskier nodded. “Right, well then.” He turned and headed towards the tables set up for cards.

“Jaskier?” Geralt blinked at the space the bard had occupied a second ago. “Jaskier?”

Jaskier was already standing in front of the bastard.

Geralt couldn’t remember his name, wasn’t even sure he’d been told who he’d been playing against.

Jaskier’s relaxed ease was gone, instead his shoulders hunched up, making him look for all the world like an angry cat about to take a chunk out of the next person who tried to pet it. “Valdo Marx,” Jaskier hissed out like the very letters of the name offended him.

Huh. Geralt looked at the man who’d defeated him.

Valdo looked up with a beatific smile. “Julian, is that you? I did think I heard your particular brand of empty words and trite notes in that boyish tenor of yours.”

Now no longer just upset about the card, Geralt’s fingers twitched towards his sword. Sure, he’d not exactly complimented Jaskier’s songs recently, but his insult was born of trying to offend the man into shutting up so Geralt could find the damnable djinn and get some fucking sleep.

Which, looking back, was a useless attempt as Jaskier had been drunk and Drunk Jaskier was even more prone to rambling than Sober Jaskier.

“Normally, I’d be quite glad to just punch you in the nose,” Jaskier smirked, “again.”

Taking a closer look, Geralt did notice that Valdo’s nose was slightly crooked. As if broken a few too many times.

“But if seems you have some pretentious rule about not allowing people to win their losings back from you like an honourable gentleman would.” Jaskier crossed his arms. “So I’ll play you for Geralt’s card.”

Valdo blinked blankly. “Geralt?”

Jaskier clucked his tongue as he sat down. “My goodness, you are out of touch. Everyone on the Continent knows I sing of Geralt of Rivia, heroic Witcher of legend and my very best friend in the whole world.”

Geralt didn’t bother to object.

“Then again, you rarely get to leave Cidaris, don’t you?” Jaskier produced his gwent deck and began to shuffle it. “I often wonder how you’d do in a town you didn’t grow up in? But then your father’s money wouldn’t be there to buy you a court position now would it? Has he bought you a title yet?”

Though Jaskier couldn’t see it, perhaps because Jaskier couldn’t see it, Geralt grinned broadly at that.

Valdo grinned back nastily, revealing he had a missing canine tooth as well. “If he did, at least one of us would use their title to make a difference to their homeland. Tell me, Julian,” he laid out his deck and dealt himself a hand, “when did you last visit Lettenhove? Or do you still think wandering amongst the common folk singing dirty songs in dirty taverns is the proper way a viscount should behave? Whatever would your mother day?”

Geralt watched Jaskier’s grip on his own hand tighten, just slightly. “Just play, Marx.”

Huh. Apparently Jaskier wasn’t making the whole viscount thing up.

“Oh now now,” Valdo laid down his hand, “we haven’t set terms yet. You want the Witcher’s card, right? This one,” he picked it up and flipped it along the back of his hand. “But what will you bet? I never play for anything as gauche as coin. Some of us get wages, not a handful of coins in a dusty lute case. Actually,” Valdo leaned forward, “that’s what we’ll play for. Your pretty lute. See if you can perform in royal courts without your maaaagical little instrument.”

“No.”

Jaskier and Valdo both snapped their attention to Geralt.

“No,” he repeated. Jaskier’s lute was his livelihood, his most precious possession. Geralt wanted his card back, but not at that price. Jaskier was a clever player, Geralt knew, but Valdo’s deck was evil, full of spies and scorch cards. “Not the lute. Choose something else.”

Valdo shook his head. “Don’t think I will,” he turned back to Jaskier. “You bet your lute or I walk away and your witcher never sees his card again.”

Geralt put a hand out to grab Jaskier’s shoulder and urge him up to their room, but Jaskier just nodded. “It’s a bet. Play, Marx.”

Worry came over Geralt and he found himself pacing behind Jaskier, trying not to look at his cards because then he’d know if Jaskier had a good hand and if he didn’t…

If Jaskier lost his lute, he’d be crushed. Geralt would buy him another; he’d have to. But to lose the lute Filavandrel had given him… Jaskier always said it brought him luck, sounded sweeter than all others, even when slightly out of tune.

“It will always remind me of the day my life changed forever,” he’d smile at it, then at Geralt.

Geralt still hadn’t worked out whether he meant the day he wrote the song that made him famous or the day he learned the world was much more complicated than his human-written studies might have led him to believe.

Geralt watched as Jaskier’s hand dwindled to two cards.

Valdo still had half a dozen.

It was the last hand; both had won a turn and this would decide the winner.

Rubbing a hand over his face, Geralt closed his eyes and leaned back, trying to meditate or at least clear his mind. He still had his winnings from the other matches he’d played tonight. He had no idea how much a lute cost, but he’s fairly sure he’d be able to cover it. Did this town even have a shop that might carry one? It was only just inside the borders of Cidaris, not a particularly large village now that Geralt thought about it.

“You,” he heard a hiss, “cheated.”

Jaskier was smiling. “I did no such thing. I merely used your same tactics against you.” He held out a hand. “The card. Unless you’d like to try and win it back?”

Valdo spit out some words in Elder as he threw the card at Jaskier and stomped out like a petulant child.

Geralt was rusty and only caught every few words. Something about Jaskier’s bedroom habits and something else about being a pathetic, he thinks the word was supposed to mean hound or something like that. One phrase that Geralt did catch, as he’d heard it assigned to him once or twice before translated to ‘unlovable’.

Jaskier sat frozen through the tirade and when Geralt rounded the table, he found Jaskier’s eyes to be far more full of wrath and pain than it ought to for someone who had just won a game against a rival.

His face schooled into a triumphant grin, though there was still a sheen of sadness in his eyes. “Your card, Geralt.”

Geralt took it gently, sliding out his deck into order to tuck it away. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Well, if I lost I was thinking of just stabbing him and making a run for it,” Jaskier waved a hand.

“It’s not that important,” Geralt insisted, ten minutes later as they readied for bed. “It wasn’t worth risking your lute. If you’d lost it. It’s more precious to you than everything, else you’ve said so yourself.”

Jaskier looked up from folding his doublet and smiled, not his cheeky performance grins but a small, genuine thing. “Not everything. Now,” he sat on the edge of the bed and tugged off his boots, “may I see the card I won from Marx in what is going to be immortalized into an incredibly epic song as soon as I come up with a rhyme for ‘thrice broken nose’?”

Geralt took it out and handed it over.

It was a fairly new card for the Northern Kingdoms deck. An ashen haired little girl pouted in a frilly pink dress, clearly displeased at being painted.

“Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Princess of Cintra,” Jaskier read. He handed back the card but his hand hovered, as if he might reach out for Geralt’s shoulder or even his cheek. “Yes, this is something worth taking a risk for, no question. …15 points and all,” he said after a moment, when he realized Geralt wasn’t responded. “Course I missed the opportunity of stabbing Marx, but I’ve no doubt the chance will arise again someday.” He laid down and stared at the ceiling.

“Jaskier,” Geralt began, finding his words dry up when those beautiful (when did he start thinking of Jaskier’s eyes as beautiful?) blue eyes blinked up at him. “I… th- you played well.”

A pleased and nearly shy look came over Jaskier’s face. “I know how much you enjoy it. Just wanted to be sure I’d be a worthy opponent for you, dearest witcher.” He stared at Geralt a moment longer, as if looking for something in his face. He shook his head slightly as if coming out of a dream. “Goodnight, Geralt.” Jaskier turned and faced the wall.

“Hmm,” Geralt hummed as he laid down, facing the opposite wall. “Goodnight. Jaskier.”

4. Sailing

Geralt surveyed the people sitting around the table and frowned to notice one missing. “Where’s Jaskier?”

“Went fishing,” Eskel said off hand, jumping right back into his conversation with Coën.

“He what?”

Lambert looked up from his gwent match with Ciri, “He took my boat and went fishing. Said he wouldn’t be much help in a hunt, but this way he wouldn’t be and I quote, ‘useless’ and he could be a ‘worthy winter companion’.”

Geralt winced. He’d apologized for his harsh words on the mountain and Jaskier had forgiven him. But it seems some of the hurt from that day still lingered.

“Where did he go?”

Eskel and Lambert exchanged a look.

“I don’t know his coordinates,” Lambert answered.

“Dammit!” Geralt barely kept himself from hitting the table; he didn’t want to scare Ciri, who had put her cards down and was watching the scene with interest. “You know what’s out there. Drowners and bears and I’m not sure we entirely destroyed that harpy nest from last winter and-“

“And he assured us he could handle it,” Eskel said.

Geralt growled. “He’s human! He could get hurt.”

Coën piped up at last. “Jaskier went north from the lakeside hut.” When all eyes turned to him, Coën shrugged, “He wanted to know where the good fishing spots are. I told him.”

Spinning on his heel, Geralt headed for the door to the keep, grabbing a silver sword from a rack of them on the way. He had a location and a direction. He could pick up Jaskier’s scent from there.

Geralt hadn’t bothered to grab a coat and the winter winds bit through his leather and linen clothes almost immediately. It didn’t matter. Jaskier had been alone in the wilds for who knows how long and even without the monsters and the beasts, there were dangers. The bard could overbalance and tumble into the icy waters. What if he hadn’t thought to grab warmer clothes? Geralt picked up speed, wishing he’d thought to bring Roach. Wishing he’d thought about anything other than running to get to Jaskier and…

And he wasn’t sure what would happen after. He just… needed to know that Jaskier was all right. That he was safe. He hadn’t been safe, Geralt sighed to himself as he ran, after Geralt had snapped at him.

Geralt was sure it was just another spat; that he’d arrive back at camp and Jaskier would be there very pointedly writing a song about a heartless cad who was mean to his very best friend in the whole wide world. Jaskier had a good half dozen songs like it already, this would be one more.

Only he wasn’t there. Geralt arrived to find Roach eating the last of the apples Jaskier had packed just for her and giving Geralt a very judgmental look. “Leave off,” he growled at her as he packed up what was left and led her down the mountain. “We’ll pick him up in town and you two can whisper about how mean I am.”

But Jaskier wasn’t in town either. Nor could anyone say which way he went. Geralt cursed then like he cursed now, seeing the roof of the hut by the lake and yet no sign of Jaskier.

Bad things happened when Jaskier went off alone. Geralt shook his head to rid himself of the image of Jaskier, strung up by his hands, those beautiful talented livelihood-making hands threatened and Jaskier said nothing, gave no secrets away. Some because he didn’t know and some because he…

Geralt doesn’t know why Jaskier didn’t break, except he does. The man is brave, he’s stupid and criminally loud, but he is also the most loyal man Geralt has ever known. Steel dressed in silk.

Closing his eyes and inhaling deeply, Geralt picked up Jaskier’s scent. It’s his soap and sweat and Geralt knows it like he knows his own.

Jaskier has the only boat and Geralt doesn’t fancy a swim, so he sticks to the shoreline, eyes casting about for any signs of danger or Jaskier.

Geralt very specifically tries to avoid thinking about danger AND Jaskier, which means that is all his brain will show him. Images of Jaskier surrounded by drowners, of a boat floating listlessly because the man at the rudder had been torn to pieces by harpies, a bear raising its blood-covered maw with a scrap of bright fabric caught in its teeth.

The last thing he’s thinking is that he will come upon Jaskier peacefully hauling a net of fish into the boat, adding the larger ones to a bucket next to him. So of course, that’s how the story goes.

“Geralt?” Jaskier called, eyes as round and surprised as the fish wriggling its last throes in his hands. “What’s wrong? Are you okay? Is everyone okay?”

Jaskier dropped the net thoughtlessly onto the boat’s hull and with a series of quick and efficient movements, had the boat floating over to where Geralt stood on the shore. The bard hopped over the side and hurried to Geralt, hands twitching as if he wanted to check the witcher over for any injuries. “Geralt?”

“What the hell were you thinking?”

A frown coming to rest on his face, Jaskier put his hands on his slim hips. “What was I thinking? What were you thinking? You’re going to catch your death without a coat, yes I know,” he said as Geralt opened his mouth, “witchers can’t catch colds, immune systems, mutagens, blah blah,” he went back to the boat and finished sorting the fish, “blah. What could possibly have happened that you hurried all the way from Kaer Morhen without so much as a single piece of armour or a cloak?” He turned, suddenly serious. “Is everyone all right? Is Ciri all right? She’s not ill, is she? Did she take a tumble on the training course?”

Touched by how much Jaskier cares about Ciri, despite having known her a relatively short time, Geralt shook his head. “She’s fine. Everyone is fine.”

“Then what in the name of Meletile, Freya and any other four gods you would care to name are you doing here?”

Geralt wished he’d spent less time thinking about the past and more time thinking about the future as he ran. He’s starting to get used to that feeling in general. “You weren’t there.”

Jaskier’s eyes widened, then softened. “Surely someone told you I’d gone fishing? I let everyone know. I didn’t,” he smiled sardonically, “think you’d even notice.”

“Why?”

Head tilted like a puppy, Jaskier raised an eyebrow. “Why did I go fishing or why did I think you wouldn’t notice? I went fishing because everyone does something at Kaer Morhen. I don’t,” he sighed, “have anything but music to offer and I’m well aware of your opinions on that. I assume your fellow witchers share them and also your witcher hearing, hence my lute case gathers dust. I do, however, know how to sail a boat, catch some fish, and cook said fish. So I thought I would make myself useful. As for you not noticing, well, I’m hardly your first priority here and,” he quickly added, “I understand completely. I shouldn’t be. Ciri comes first, always, of course. Hell, I wasn’t your first priority when we traveled together. Roach was. Speaking of, where is she? You couldn’t have tied her up too far away now.” Jaskier looked at the tree line as if a large mare would suddenly appear.

“I… didn’t bring her,” Geralt said, shame slowly rising in him at Jaskier’s words. Geralt couldn’t refute any of them. He hadn’t noticed the lack of music, assuming Jaskier still played in his room. As for when they travelled together, it hurt deep in Geralt’s gut that Jaskier thought he wasn’t a priority to Geralt. His words were often harsh, but Geralt made sure Jaskier had enough food and hunted more to ensure that he would. He bought Jaskier a warmer, if less stylish, cloak that had seen the bard through most of his twenties.

Jaskier had hefted a bucket of fish in his arms and just stared blankly at Geralt. “You… didn’t bring Roach? You, what, walked all the way here?”

Geralt’s eye twitched. “I ran.”

“For Meletile’s sake, why?”

“There’s…” Geralt cleared his throat, “drowners around. Sometimes. And bears. There might be some harpies left over from a nest we destroyed last winter.”

Jaskier settled the bucket back into the boat. “Were you… worried about me?”

Geralt nodded. Words were awkward and he wished to use as few as possible.

A look not unlike something like wonder crossed Jaskier’s face. “Oh. I… oh. I’m,” he spread his arms as if presenting himself, “fine. As you see. I… guess we should head back.” He gestured towards the boat. “I’ve a decently sized haul. I can make use of this for a while.” Jaskier stood in the shallow water, “Climb on in, and I’ll take us back.”

Geralt didn’t move.

“Oh,” Jaskier looked abashed. “Unless you’d prefer to steer?”

“No,” Geralt shook his head. “You can steer.”

He could. As Geralt had seen, Jaskier clearly knew his way not only around fishery, but sailing.

Jaskier nodded again to the boat and Geralt stepped in, settling at the bow.

Proving him right, Jaskier shoved them into the water and hauled himself over the side, quickly settling at the rudder and turning them around to head back towards Kaer Morhen.

Geralt cast a glance into the bucket of fish, seeing a few other smaller ones surrounding it. Several fish stared unblinkingly at Geralt as he stared back.

Jaskier hummed then cut himself off when he realized he was doing so, with a nervous glance at Geralt.

He wanted to say something. Tell Jaskier the humming was fine with him. That he should get out his lute and play for them. That Geralt wanted to hear his music, his voice. That the fillingless pie comment all those years ago hadn’t been a slight to Jaskier’s singing but the content of his songs, so many full of dirty humour or exaggerated lies.

All he could manage was “You sail good.”

Staring just as wide-eyed and unblinking as the fish, Jaskier slowly said, “Thank… you… I, uh,” he looked back at the water, “grew up on the coast. Been sailing since I was strong enough to move a rudder. Fishing even longer.”

“Why didn’t you fish that day? You could have caught your own.” Geralt winced as his words were said. Jaskier wasn’t focusing on that day with the djinn. He’d need to be specific.

But Jaskier was already answering, “I was heartbroken and near blind drunk,” he laughed, light and slightly forced. “I’d have fallen in as soon as I bent over to grab the net, hence why I was hoping you would share your haul.” He pursed his lips. “Rather wish I hadn’t, looking back.”

Geralt found himself stuck for words again. They came easy with his brothers in arms. Even with Ciri, he found himself managing to find words of comfort or encouragement when it seemed she needed them.

But Jaskier had always made things complicated for Geralt, since the day they’d met. He could annoy Geralt like nobody and nothing else; Jaskier got himself into trouble on a fairly regular basis, was fussy about his clothes and hair, and could talk the hind legs off a donkey while never saying a blessed thing of worth.

But damn if Geralt didn’t want him there, in all his messy and loud glory. He wanted Jaskier safe and, as recent events had shown, Jaskier was safest at Geralt’s side, because Geralt would move heaven and earth, call upon any help and damn the cost, to keep Jaskier so.

Geralt was in love with Jaskier. The revelation felt both sudden and slow at once. Like he’d been falling in love so quietly and steadily, there was no way to point to the day or hour that he’d actually fallen.

“Fuck.”

Jaskier, lost in daydreams, started. “What’s the matter now?”

“I,” Geralt scrambled for something to say. Should he tell Jaskier he loved him? No, that was absurd. Jaskier, for all his lingering stares and the near constant scent of lust that used to surround him, didn’t love Geralt as more than a friend, if that. Lust was not love, Geralt knew that well. He was with him for the songs and the safety. Sure, Jaskier cared for Geralt, he said it often enough, but he didn’t love him. Like how Geralt was realizing he loved Jaskier.

Who was staring at him expectantly.

At least this time, Geralt kept his annoyed at himself ‘fuck’ inside his head. “I was thinking of all the times we could have taken the river, instead of the roads.” He found words, though he wasn’t sure they were the right ones. “If I’d known you could sail. We could have… sailed. Before now.”

Jaskier dropped his eyes to the bottom of the boat, then turned away as if needing to check where he was going, as if he hadn’t been steering blind for the past several minutes, instinctive. “Ah. I’m sorry. Maybe I should have told you. Though we weren’t often by the,” a slight hesitation, “the coast.”

“You’re doing very well.” Geralt twitched his lips into as big a smile as he could manage and still felt it came up short.

But Jaskier’s visible cheek rose in a smile. “Thank you, Geralt.”

5. Sword Fighting

A whirl of light green and silver flashed from Geralt’s side, a movement near dancelike in its fluidity, accompanied by a whisper that sounded almost like counting.

Geralt turned just in time to see the bandit’s surprised face before his cleaved straight through torso fell, leaving the remains of his trunk and his lower body to fall to the ground a couple seconds after his head and shoulders had.

Jaskier stood behind the now deceased bandit, blood splattered all over his outfit and his face, still twisted into a mask of wrath. The sword in his hand was red with blood, silver glinting through the drops.

Geralt thinks it’s possible he has never been so turned on in his whole life and he’s going to have a good long talk with himself about why that might be later on.

The moment passed and Jaskier lowered the sword, wiping it on the deserter’s trousers. “Oh blast, sorry about that Geralt, I’ll clean all the blood off properly once we get back to camp. No worries. I know it’s silver for monsters,” he sneered at the dead man and then at the others who had foolishly decided to try to rob a witcher and his companion, “but I rather think it’s still apt. I’ll pay for the repair at the next blacksmith we come across if I damaged it too much.” He held the blade at eye level and examined it. “I think it’s mostly all right and Geralt are you okay? They didn’t manage to knock you in the head, did they? You’ve been staring at me for the past few minutes.”

Geralt was trying to sear the image of Jaskier looking over the blade as if, as if he KNOWS what to look for in a damaged sword. A sword he had used to kill a man creeping up on Geralt. A sword he had welded with deadly and graceful precision. Geralt’s own sword.

A very, very long talk. Possibly in the cold stream they’d just come from before they’d been ambushed.

Jaskier leaned past Geralt to sheathe the sword into its place across the witcher’s back and the spicy smell of anger had dissipated completely into Jaskier’s usual chamomile and honey concern scent. Underlaid by the copper of the blood.

It took a good deal of self-discipline for Geralt to not outright whine when Jaskier laid a warm hand on his cheek, tilting his head to check for injuries.

“Your pupils are very round, darling,” Jaskier said, the endearment he used so often sounded like music to Geralt. “Are you injured? I could grab you a potion if you are. Or maybe you’re just tired.” Jaskier dropped his hand and turned back to where they had laid down their belongings when the first men broke through the cover of the trees, using speed and surprise over strategy.

Geralt was sure he’d had them all until… until Jaskier killed the man who had managed to sneak up on him. Who would have put a sword through Geralt if not for Jaskier’s quick action and Geralt circled back to the image of Jaskier, bloody and snarling like a feral animal as he cut the man down with no hesitation.

A very, very long talk in a very, very cold stream.

Jaskier whistled and Roach came from her hiding spot in the trees. He patted her neck and dug through her saddlebags. “Geralt, are you out of Swallow? We have the spirit and the celandine but I think we might need to head towards the coast so you can cut down some drowners for their brains.” He smiled brightly. “Maybe they’ll be a contract for them as well. And a tavern that appreciates fine music. We could have a va- a very nice day. Or two.” Jaskier ducked his head and pink bloomed in his cheeks.

Geralt found his hand lifting of its own accord and landing on Jaskier’s shoulder.

The bard turned expectantly, then frowned when after a moment Geralt didn’t say or do anything else. “Geralt?” His voice was soft, the scent of his concern drew stronger. “Geralt, are you sure you’re okay? You seem stunned or something. Are you sure you didn’t take a hit to the head?”

“Sword,” Geralt said at last.

“He speaks,” Jaskier smiled briefly. “He speaks nonsense, but he speaks. What about a sword? I already told you I’d take care of any repairs needed after my impromptu maneuver. I don’t think there’s any permanent damage done. It wasn’t even that difficult. You have very good moves, dear.”

Geralt blinked as he realized where he’d seen the move Jaskier had performed. It was one he’d been taught at the School of The Wolf. Jaskier used one of Geralt’s own moves. One of his Witcher moves. To save his life. “That was… that was a witcher move. How did you…” he couldn’t even finish his question.

Jaskier shrugged. “I’ve followed you for over two decades, Geralt. On and off, sure, but still. I’ve seen you fight nearly every creature you could come across. Including bastards like those,” he nonchalantly tossed his head towards the dead men on the ground, his fringe flicking back into his eyes boyishly. “I memorized the moves you use. Granted, I’ve mostly practiced on training dummies and sparring partners, but I’ve run across my fair share of evil and desperate men before.”

“That… wasn’t your first kill?”

“Gods no,” Jaskier tilted his head and scrunched up his nose as he calculated. “Maybe my… dozenth? Or so. Now I tried not to pick up a sword unless necessary but that gutless bastard,” he spit at the man’s bisected body, “was in your blind spot. You probably would have managed to parry, but I didn’t want to take the chance.” Jaskier smiled. “Good thing too, now that we know you’re out of Swallow. Here,” he held out a canteen of water, “drink this. Get your strength back.”

Geralt took the canteen and drank slowly to give himself time to readjust his worldview on Jaskier. “Did you… count? When you were…”

Jaskier nodded. “Oh yes. Your movements are so like a dancer’s that I memorized them to a beat.” He smirked. “I’ll make a ballad out of them some day. I’m still in the habit of the counting, but eventually I’ll stop needing that, I suppose.”

“Right,” Geralt said, nodding as if he wasn’t imaging Jaskier, in plain shirt and tight trousers, sparring with Geralt on the grounds of Kaer Morhen. A blink and it was a different kind of sparring. In a bedroom. “Huh.”

“Well,” Jaskier said, as he dug back through the saddlebag, “there’s some White Raffard’s if push comes to shove. Makes sense after that last nest of nekkars. Frightful creatures by the way, possibly my least favourite of them all. Though you’re low on White Honey as well, so hopefully we can find a herbalist and stock up a bit before you have to do any major fighting. ”I’m glad now that I all but raided Oxenfurt’s gardens before I joined you for Spring. Got plenty of honeysuckle in my bag and I’m sure we can find some white myrtle with no problem this time of year. Where’s your alcohest, dear? I’m sure Lambert didn’t let you leave Kaer Morhen without every type of spirit known to man.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt said, unable to take it anymore. “We need to get back to camp.”

Jaskier whirled around and looked at Geralt then up at the sky, the sun slowly descending in the late afternoon light. “Oh you’re right. Best head back now before we lose the light. Pity we had to have that fight after the nice splash we’d had in that stream. Do you think there’s time to wash again before we head back?”

Geralt nodded. “Yes. Let’s do that first, getting clean again. That’s a very, very good idea.”

“Hmm,” Jaskier hummed, “I didn’t expect that answer from Mr Uses Monster Guts As Shampoo.”

“We’re going to need to get very clean,” Geralt said, “because as soon as we get back to camp I am going to fuck you.”

Jaskier froze. “Whaaaat did you just say? Geralt, I think I misheard you.”

Geralt shrugged. “Or you can fuck me. After seeing you fight like that, I’m letting you choose how we do it.”

“Seeing me fight.” Jaskier opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to find which of the many words he had at his disposal he wished to use.

“Or I could just suck you off, if you’d prefer that instead.”

“Geralt of Rivia. Geralt… Geralt Roger Eric du Haute-Bellegarde and I have never been more grateful for the night Vesemir got drunk and shared stories of your youth, I need you to be very, very serious about that offer.” Jaskier licked his lips. “Because I would very much like to take you up on it and if… if it’s just for the night, I don’t rightly think we should risk our… ye gods, you’ve never even called me your friend and here you are offering sex as if… is this just because you feel obligated? I’m sure you would have moved just in time but I couldn’t risk letting that man hurt you and-“

Geralt reached out and pulled Jaskier close, which shut the bard up. A trick Geralt was wishing he’d let himself try before. “I am very serious. If you want it to be for the night, it’s just for the night. It could be a more… formal arrangement if you’d prefer that.”

Jaskier dropped his head to Geralt’s shoulder and breathed out heavily. “I died, didn’t I? I misjudged the distance and the bandit killed me and this is heaven. I didn’t think I’d go to heaven. Huh.”

“Not dead,” Geralt said, lifting a hand to thread through Jaskier’s hair. “Not letting you die. Ever. Especially now that I know how well you fight. You’re living just as long as I am. Don’t know how. I’ll ask Yen, maybe she’ll know of some-“

“Okay,” Jaskier took a step back. “Now, now you’re just being… you want to ask Yennefer, a very very scary witch that you sleep with on the regular-“

Geralt shrugged. “Going to have to stop that now that I have you.”

A high-pitched whine issued from Jaskier’s throat. “I’m going to need you to stop saying things like that if you don’t mean them… how I… ho- expe- think you mean them.”

“I mean them how you think I mean them,” Geralt said. “Most likely. I mean that I would very much like to take you back to our camp and check at least a few things off the mental list of sexual acts we’ve both been compiling right now.”

Jaskier squeaked, “Both?”

Geralt nodded. “I would very much like to do so tomorrow night and for as many nights as you want me. And to extend your allotment of nights somehow. Yennefer has been searching arcane magic things for decades, surely she’s found some anti-ageing or immortality spell by this point. She wouldn’t have needed it, but I’m sure she would have made note of any.”

“Sure she can’t make me younger before she does that?’ Jaskier asked, relying on humour to help him deal with the inrush of information he was being given.

Tilting his head, Geralt looked Jaskier over very thoroughly, noting with some satisfaction what effect his assessing stare had on the state of Jaskier’s trousers. “I like you as you are now. Not the whelp that followed me when It was stupid and dangerous. You’re a grown man now. You’ve filled out. I like how you look.”

Jaskier ran a hand through his hair. “Pardon me if this all seems very sudden.”

“Not sudden,” Geralt said. “I’ve liked how you looked for years.”

“You never said anything.”

Geralt smirked slightly. “I know you’ve lusted for me. I can smell arousal. You never said anything either.”

Jaskier flailed again. “You didn’t consider me your friend, so forgive me for assuming ‘Hey Geralt, you’re the most bloody gorgeous person I’ve ever seen in my whole life would you like to bed me and then marry me’ wouldn’t go down very well.”

“I thought,” Geralt started, “you only wanted to follow me for the songs. For the fame and coin it earns you. It’s why you started following me.”

Struck speechless, Jaskier just stared.

Geralt continued. “I’ve thought of you as my friend, but I didn’t think you thought of me as yours. Until you saved me. Until you learned how I fight in case you ever needed to save me. Until you knew what my potions do and which ones they are. All the little things you’ve done for me throughout the years make sense now. I know friendship. That’s not friendship; it’s love.”

“I have loved you since,” Jaskier waved a hand theatrically, “since you told the elves to let me go. Since you let me stay with you even though you could have outrun me easily on Roach. You hunted enough for two and laid our bedrolls close so I wouldn’t freeze on cold nights and especially after the mountain, you’ve barely let me out of your sight and… oh my gods, I am thick, aren’t I? I am so thick! I am Mr. Thick Thick Thickety Thickface from Thicktown, Thickania. You don’t talk, you do. That was your way of… of… saying how you feel. Isn’t it?”

Geralt hummed and nodded.

Jaskier’s smile could have outshone the lovely sunset happening somewhere behind them. “You love me. Geralt, you… love me. Like I love you. Oh my gods, are you sure I’m not dead? Or having the most wonderful dream? This is real,” he took a step closer and reached out cautiously to pull Geralt into his arms. “This is real, right?”

“It’s real,” Geralt nodded again.

A laugh bubbled out of Jaskier, eliciting a smaller but no less sincere one from Geralt. “If I wasn’t covered in blood, I would be kissing you alre-“

Geralt leaned in and pressed their lips together, relishing the happy gasp Jaskier made against his mouth. “Hmm, I’m bloody too.”

Jaskier kissed Geralt, a small peck and then another. “Where was that stream again?”

Geralt pulled back and took Jaskier’s hand, guiding him in the dimming light. “I won’t be bedding you and then marrying you,” he said.

Confusion scrunched up Jaskier’s face before he realized what he had said before. “Oh bollocks, I didn’t mean that- necessarily- I don’t- where would we find a priest or priestess any- I wasn’t suggesting-”

“We have to have some courting time before we should even think about marrying,” Geralt continued. “it’s only proper.”

“Right,” Jaskier nodded so fast, it was a miracle his head didn’t fly away. “Right, right, right, right. Of course, of course, of course. Proper… proper courting. Geralt?” he asked as they arrived at the stream. “I love you. I just… can I say that now? Because I’ve wanted to say it so many times and I’ve been biting it back for years and I just… I just love you.”

Geralt smiled. “I love you too.”

Wow,” Geralt said, staring up at the ceiling. “That’s how you manage to get away with those abysmal pickup lines. I mean… wow.” His heart was racing so fast it almost sounded human after the passionate, athletic and frankly innovative sex they’d just had. "I always did think it would be good."

He didn’t need to turn to see Jaskier’s smug smile, but he did anyway.

Jaskier’s grin was wide and stretched his cheeks even higher than normal. He tossed his sweaty fringe out of his face and kissed Geralt, deeply, slowly, perfectly. “You’re welcome.”

#the witcher netflic #my fanfic #geraskier #geralt #jaskier #bamfjaskier

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