#geraskier collab

[spielzeugkaiser]

"I have no idea what I am doing," his knight commander admits with a frown. "Oh I'm sure you're doing just fine," Jaskier waves him off with a laugh as goosebumps spread across his back from where Geralt's gloved hands meet the delicate lacing of his dress. "Truth be told, milord, I don't even know why I am doing this and not one of the maids." Jaskier wouldn't be able to hide his smile even if he tried. "Well, how else would you know how to take it off?"

Very much a fan of AUs were everyone is just living their best life. 🤭❤️

It's honestly what they deserve!! 🥺💖 but I'm way too mean...

#once again: look at the doggo!! #the witcher #geraskier #jaskier #geralt of rivia #artistsfuneral #honestly I love that #jaskier living his best life instead #like that they simply look dashing together! #also little ficlet :3 #art collab

[artistsfuneral]

So @spielzeugkaiser and I did an art collab!! 🌼✨ We both drew Anime/Witcher themed sketches and challenged the other to complete them. As you can see by Geralt's funky shirt I had tons of fun with this 😂❤️

#the witcher #one piece #geralt #geraskier #one piece fanart #the witcher fanart #geralt of rivia #jaskier #witcher #artistsfuneral draws #artistsfuneral about the witcher #spielzeugkaiser's fault #spielzeugkaiser #art collab #digital art #pirates #pirate au

[kueble]

The Hunt

Here is my collab with @mysticcoyoteart for the @witchertrickortreat prompt “Hunt.”  I had a blast working with them!  You can find the amazing artwork HERE.

Explicit. Warnings: They’re animals. Bunny!Jaskier, wolf!Geralt, knotting, rough sex, chasing as foreplay, mild blood mention. 1,500 Words.

Geraskier

---

An eerie howl echoes through the forest, and Jaskier shivers as he drops to all fours.  As undignified as it seems, he’s simply faster this way.  Perhaps it’s a bit counterintuitive, since his goal is to get caught, but the longer the hunt lasts, the more worked up they both are.  Grinning, he pauses to rub his fur against a tree trunk - an effort to throw Geralt off his trail - before bouncing off in another direction.

The fall night is chilly, so much so that he almost longs for the doublet he left back at camp.  The first time they played like this, he hadn’t stripped down and lost a lovely emerald doublet to Geralt’s claws.  He certainly never made that mistake again.

The next howl is closer, and Jaskier knows it won’t be much longer before he’s caught.  Still, he swerves between the trees, darting back and forth to play the part of terrified prey.  The crack of a breaking branch sends another shiver down his spine.  That wasn’t far off, so he braces himself for the impact.

His heart is hammering in his chest, every instinct ingrained in him is shouting at him to keep running, not to get caught by the much larger predator, and Jaskier fucking loves it.  The added thrill of the chase always makes Geralt fuck him rougher than normal.

Suddenly, Jaskier is pounced on, his body slammed to the forest floor as Geralt crashes into him.  He lets out a startled squeak, but he’s grinning ear to ear when Geralt leans down to growl against the back of his neck.

“Dangerous out here for a tiny little thing like you,” Geralt says harshly, and Jaskier just whines in response.  Gone is his careful lover who lazily kissed him while he fingered himself open not an hour ago.

Melitele’s gorgeous tits, he thrives on it.

“Not so little,” Jaskier argues, bucking up against him, and Geralt snickers back at him.

“Cocky little bunny,” he says, grinding down against him.  Jaskier can feel his cock, already hard and out of its sheath, and he damn near drools as he pushes back into Geralt’s large frame.  Jaskier is completely surrounded by him, couldn’t get away if he wanted to.  So it’s a damn good thing he’s right where he wants to be.

“Big bad wolf,” Jaskier quips back, earning another low chuckle.

“Very big,” Geralt murmurs before leaning down to nip the back of Jaskier’s neck.

He whines, already on edge as Geralt rakes his massive teeth over his fur.  It would be so easy for Geralt to hurt him, would barely take any energy at all to sink those teeth into his throat, and just the danger of it makes Jaskier’s cock throb.

“You’re already close, aren’t you?” Geralt asks, snorting as he grinds his cock against Jaskier’s slicked-up hole.

“You know how easy I am, love,” Jaskier laughs back, trailing off into a broken moan when the head of Geralt’s cock catches on his rim.  He leans down, his ears brushing against the ground, and tries to hold himself back.

Geralt, the delightful bastard, just reaches between them and rubs the back of a claw against Jaskier’s entrance.  The cold shock of it has him coming, shouting hoarsely as he spills on the dirt beneath them.  His little cock throbs as it washes over him, his back arching and arms shaking as he rides it out.

“Easy prey,” Geralt says, his hot breath ghosting the side of Jaskier’s face.  He can hear the grin in his voice, and knows he must look absolutely feral right now.  And then Geralt sniffs the air, taking in the scent of him, and Jaskier whimpers as he realizes he’s getting off on the smell of his spend.

“Always happy to be caught by you,” Jaskier says as soon as he catches his breath.  The good thing about rabbits are they may come easily, but they don’t ever stop.  His cock is still hard, and he’s ready to go again.

Geralt nuzzles him - the softness a stark contrast to their taunts - and then Jaskier feels the thick press of him against his hole again.  He braces himself, fingers practically digging into the dirt, and Geralt thankfully doesn’t tease him much longer.

The first press of him is always overwhelming.  Jaskier feels like there’s no way his prick will fit inside of him, like just the head is enough to tear him apart. He’s well trained by now, though, and once Geralt pops inside, he slowly breaches him until his heavy balls are pressed against Jaskier’s body.  He groans loudly, pushing back against him as Geralt starts to slide out again.

He slams back in with enough force to shake Jaskier’s smaller frame, and he cries out as pleasure dances down his spine.  Geralt finds a quick pace, fucking him roughly as he struggles to stay on his hands and knees.  It’s brutal and perfect.

Something wet hits his shoulder, and Jaskier whimpers, knowing Geralt’s tongue is hanging out while he fucks him.  He bites his own lip as the drool slides through his fur and down his back.  Fuck, he’s going to be filthy by the time they’re done.

That thought alone is enough to set him off again, and he comes with a shout.  Geralt doesn’t bother stopping, is used to him by now, and just works him through it.  Jaskier feels so full, so used that it’s making his head swim.

And then Geralt is pulling back, slipping free of him, and Jaskier makes a questioning whine before the ground and sky start flipping places.  He flails his limbs, but Geralt whispers, “I’ve got you,” and it calms him down.

They end up with Geralt on his back and Jaskier straddling him, face to face.  And oh yes, this is much much better.  Now he can see his lover’s gorgeous face, his eyes nearly black and his fangs glistening in the moonlight as he picks Jaskier up like he’s weightless and slams him back on his cock.

Jaskier sets his hands on Geralt’s chest, even though he doesn’t need to work for it.  Geralt does all the work, his claws digging into Jaskier’s waist as he fucks up into him.   His prick is massive, and Jaskier feels like he’s fucking up into the back of his throat.  He needs a distraction or he’ll come again.

Leaning down, he catches Geralt’s mouth in a sloppy kiss.  It’s wet and messy, neither of them able to do much more than nip and lick at each other’s mouth.  Jaskier runs his tongue over Geralt’s fangs, pressing up just enough to hurt.  It’s a good kind of pain, warming him from the inside out, and he shocks himself by coming again.

He tastes blood, unable to control himself as he shakes wildly on top of Geralt.  The copper taste of it explodes on his tongue while he coats Geralt’s stomach in watery come.  He watches with wide eyes as his seed blends in with Geralt’s white fur.  Unable to stop himself, he brings a hand down and rubs it in, making sure his scent will stick to him for much longer than tonight.

He’s still coming back to himself, mind fucked-out and blissful, when Geralt grunts out that he’s close.  That news has Jaskier’s cock perking up again.  He presses down, letting it rub between their bodies and keens as Geralt thrusts harder.  He feels so full, so deliciously stuffed, yet he starts begging for more.

“Need it,” he whines, “need your knot.  Please.  Geralt.  Fuck, need it.”

“Love when you get greedy,” Geralt tells him.  He speeds up, his rhythm stuttering as Jaskier feels the base of his cock growing.  The knot brushes against his abused rim, and Jaskier’s eyes nearly roll back into his head as he wills his body to relax.

One more thrust is all it takes, and Jaskier howls out, his voice echoing through the forest as Geralt’s knot pops past his rim.  He comes again, slumping down against Geralt’s chest as sparks shoot through him.  It’s nearly too much, and he’s pulsing with over-stimulation.

But then Geralt nips at his neck, growling as he finally lets go.  The first pump of hot come feels like a blessing, and Jaskier clings to Geralt as he fills him up.  It’s too much - always is - but Jaskier knows the knot will keep him plugged.

“Still with me?” Geralt asks after the first round stops, and Jaskier nods weakly.  Geralt chuckles and presses a kiss against the top of his head.

They lay there, trading soft kisses while Geralt keeps spilling inside of him.  Jaskier aches with it, his belly impossibly round, but it’s the sweetest kind of ache.  He knows once Geralt pulls out that he’ll be a mess, come dripping down his thighs and coating his fur.  Maybe he can get Geralt to lick him clean once they get back to camp.  His cock gives a valiant effort to get hard again at that thought, but he’s done for the night.  

---

NSFW Tags: @tothedesert @mayastormborn @feraljaskier @allinthebones @selectivegeekwithstandards @trickstermoose67 @dapandapod @theweirdlynx @tedrakitty @sharinalein @iamaqt314 @silvermintnightprincess @honeysuckletook @rockysstupidity @live-long-and-trek-on @larawrmonster @thesynysterunknown @rebard-main @gryffinqueen-blog @fangirleaconmigo @mothmanismyuncle @fontegagrilledcheese @thestarkwinter @lokibus @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde @221birl1823 @strippiluolamies @concussed-dragon @aurelia-which-means-sunrise @clarebear66 @feral-jaskier @hayleynzlive @answrs @jaskierswolf @holymotherwolf @thisislisa    @firefly-party @officerjennie @theshapeofcool @singerin @flawney

If you’d like to be added/removed, please let me know. Thank you!

#my fic #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #furries #I guess #they're animals #witchertort2 #the witcher #jaskier x geralt #jaskier #geralt #cw knotting #this is just filth and I love it #bunnies come a lot my dudes

[wilddragonflying]

Alright, tagged by @tiltingheartand and I'm writing this on mobile bc otherwise I'll forget so forgive any typos/weirdness!

How many works do you have on AO3?

247, however a bunch of those are from the Collaborations series! It's a series collecting all of the fics that @queerpeasantchic and I have written 😁

Total AO3 word count?

3,093,324 (2,065,618 of which is from the aforementioned Collaborations)

What fandoms do you write for?

Ahahahahahaha ummmm

9-1-1, Roswell: New Mexico, Baldur's Gate 3, Fallout (as a whole), Detroit: Become Human, Sandman, Avengers, Stranger Things, Borderlands, MCU, Teen Wolf, Dragon Age, Far Cry (specifically New Dawn), The Witcher, Overwatch, House of Ashes, Harry Potter, Skyrim, Mass Effect, Justice League, Kingsman, The Quarry, Wonder Woman, How to Train Your Dragon, Buzzfeed Unsolved(don't think I actually published anything for that one tho)

Honestly like. If I'm in a fandom, odds are I WILL write a fic for it at some point

Top five fics by kudos?

A Question of Pack (Teen Wolf, sterek, canon-compliant thru I think s2? Been a while since I've reread it, but people are still reading it! Collab w/ @queerpeasantchic)

Between the Drinks and the Morning (Witcher, Geraskier, PWP)

Rumor Has It (9-1-1, Buddie, 5 times people thought buddie were divorced + 1 time they realized they want to be married)

What (Not) to Tell Your Friends (Teen Wolf, Sterek, established relationship w/ sex-repulsed ace!Derek where the rest of the pack finds out sterek have never had sex and meddle; another collab w/ @queerpeasantchic)

Two Steps Forward (9-1-1, buddie, Ramon and Helena come to visit after Ramon's retirement party and they misunderstand buddie's relationship, featuring Ramon trying Very Hard and not quite hitting the mark, but acting sincerely)

Do you respond to comments?

I will if there's a question or if the commenter is being a dick - odds are I'm more likely to respond if they're an asshole because I like tearing them apart them freezing the comment thread and deleting any other comment attempts 😂

Fic with angstiest ending?

Oh jeez I don't know I don't...... think I've ever done a non-happy/hopeful ending?????

Fic w/ happiest ending?

.... see above 😂 most of my endings are happy!

Do you get hate on fics?

Yepper-ooni 😂 I actually have a couple of fics that were motivated entirely by some idiots who didn't understand the concept of 'don't like don't read' when it comes to messed up characters having messed up relationship dynamics 😂

Do you write smut?

I sure do! Surprise myself with it sometimes, but sometimes you just gotta sit down and bang out 6k words about your favs banging

Craziest crossover?

Hmm I don't typically do crossovers, but I did write a couple leverage/supernatural fics way back when I started writing & posting fics; that's the only one coming to mind right offhand

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of!

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Ye! Or at least, had some where a request to translate was commented lol

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

See the very first answer 😂 I co-write loads of fic w/ @queerpeasantchic but I also like to talk about my WIPs w/ people like @tiltingheartand who is wonderful to bounce ideas off of and who has provided much food for thought & inspo 💖

All time favorite ship?

Oh God that's a toughie 🙈 I gotta say either Parker/Hadison/Eliot, or buddie, or maybe sterek???? It's so hard to choose

WIP you want to finish but doubt you will?

Oh Jesus *guiltily glances at google drive* there are.... way too many 🙈

Writing strengths?

Hmm I like to think I'm good at digging into a character's head and showing the internal thoughts

Weaknesses?

Anything requiring a physical description 😂

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

If the POV character knows the language, I'll usually put it in italics w/ a note about which language it is, but if not, then I'll describe the other speakers' mannerisms/attitude as they speak

First fandom you wrote in?

Erm I think that might've been Warrior Cats, *way* back when I first discovered fic!

Favorite fic you've written?

Without a doubt, Supplementations and Upgrades! This is a fic inspired by a Tumblr post wondering what if BioWare *had* gone with the apparent original idea of the geth bringing Shephard back to life for ME2. I wrote the first chapter as a one-off with my Shephard, Rochelle (biotic ping pong ball of death), and then the idea just wouldn't leave me alone! Ended up being over 230k words and honestly it's my biggest project to date and the one I'm most proud of 😁 I constantly re-read it, and have commissioned art for various chapters from @defenestratin! (With plans for more bc I CANNOT get enough of how they draw Rochelle 😍)

I'm gonna tag........... @queerpeasantchic @systlin @inexplicifics and anyone else who wants to give it a shot 😁

#wild speaks #wild writes #tag game

[sleepsonfutons]

WIP Game

Thanks @tryan-a-bex for the tag~

RULES: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

Truss Me Up But Never Leave Me Hanging

False Memories - "As a stranger I know myself" (co-authoring with @phinofthestorm)

A Long and Winding Road

Soteria AU ficlet - Death and the Night Parade of Demons

Dreamling getting a lil TOO real

Dream of a Thousand Hobs Collab

In Darkest Dreams They Slumber

WIP Geraskier Fanfic (Unconditional -working title)

The Need to Dream Again

Replaced Bingo Prompt (E2 - Bound & Gagged)

Sandmanniversary Weekend 2023

Bingo Fills

Reckon I'll tag a few other folks with no-pressure tags~ (tell us what you're working on 👀👀👀 hehehe) @arialerendeair @seiya-starsniper @landwriter @moorishflower @mentallyinvernation @blueberrymffn @phinofthestorm

#tag games #wip game #sof gets tagged

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

He Blinded Me With Science

Many thanks to the ever-lovely and always talented @spielzeugkaiser for collaborating with me once again on this goofy, exceedingly soft Star Trek AU! 4.3k

Boldly going where no fluff has gone before...

tw: simulated near-death experiences

---

Stardate 47634.44

Commander Geralt deRiv watched with a stoic sense of envy as Counselor Pankratz wrapped his arms around young Ensign Cirilla and gave her a bone-crushing hug. The pretty young Betazoid man picked her up and spun her in a quick circle, his superior height the only way to compensate for her excessively gangly teenage limbs.

The Commander watched from nearby - not too close to the group to be considered an intrusion - and tried to find a logical way to explain why he felt his own mild sense of happiness whenever he heard a note of joy in Counselor Pankratz’s steady tenor. Geralt looked on, still oddly and illogically jealous, as the Counselor pressed a quick kiss to either of Ciri’s cheeks and declared: “Congratulations, cub! I’m so excited that you’ll be staying with us for your last few years of Starfleet training!”

Once the Counselor was finished bestowing his blessings and congratulations, Captain Vesemir stepped forward and clapped his hand over the girl’s shoulder, his sharp hazel eyes sparkling with pride and perhaps even mischief. His bushy grey mustache turned up in the corners, the ultimate marker of his approval. “Congratulations, Ensign Cirilla. Let me be the first to welcome you aboard the USS Kaer Morhen as an official member of the Bridge crew. We’re happy to have you along with us, my dear.”

“Grandma would be so proud,” Ciri smiled. It wasn't her usual chipper smile, either, but something distant and sad and longing. Geralt found human culture far too touchy-feely for his tastes; except, apparently, when it came to Counselor Pankratz. “May I send a message to the Away team and let my Mom know about my appointment, Captain?”

“Of course,” Vesemir grinned. “I’m sure that she’ll be incredibly proud of you, cub.”

Counselor Pankratz hugged Ciri one last time and Geralt felt his jealousy return, crackling just beneath the surface of his too-pale skin. The Commander’s sudden bout of white-hot emotion jarred him back to reality and he took a step forward, ready to offer Ciri his own set of congratulations. When Jaskier shot him a curious sidelong glance, however, Geralt realized that he needed to keep his feelings more deeply in check than he already was - having feelings for a Betazoid was difficult enough.

He stepped forward and patted the newly officiated Ensign on the shoulder twice, as he had just seen Vesemir do, an obvious sign of trust and competency, “Excellent work, Cirilla. I look forward to having you on the Away team. You have a clever mind and sharp observational skills; they will be a great asset.”

The young woman’s eyes widened above her already enormous smile and she bounced twice on the balls of her feet, her hands clasped beneath her chin and her cheeks flushed pink with all the praise. “Thank you so much, Commander deRiv! It means the world to hear you say that!”

“You are a commendable officer and always do your job to the best of your abilities. I am pleased to hear that you will remain a part of our crew,” Geralt nodded, eyebrows furrowed with the seriousness of his statement. He folded his hands behind his back and shifted his eyes up to meet the Captain’s, unsure of how to proceed with the boisterous Ensign’s enthusiastic response to his comments. “May I be dismissed, sir?”

“Yes, thank you, Commander. I’ll read over your report from the last Away mission this evening and send you any questions or comments I may have before your bridge shift tomorrow.”

“Understood. Thank you, Captain.”

---

Stardate 47634.44

“So the two of them have actually met before?” Vesemir clarified. Lambert nodded, smirking a little too smugly for anyone’s comfort. The Captain continued, ever-wary of the officer’s tendency to play pranks, “And you think that they’re in love?”

“I wouldn’t necessarily call it love. I mean, not to interrupt Lambert’s gossiping, Captain, but your Senior Science Officer and your Ship’s Counselor definitely have feelings for each other. I’ve seen the tips of Geralt’s pointy ears go green just from passing Jaskier’s table in Ten Forward,” Eskel noted from the raised Security platform behind the Captain’s chair. “And despite being a serial hugger and hand-holder, Jask keeps himself politely disengaged and professional whenever he’s dealing with our shy Commander deRiv.”

“They’re idiots, Captain,” First Officer Vengerberg added from her seat at Vesemir’s side. Yennefer was radiating pride and happiness, resplendent from Ciri’s recent acceptance to Starfleet and continued assignment on the Kaer Morhen. Still, she found a moment to roll her eyes and contribute, “Commander deRiv refuses to let his human side show by constantly shielding and suppressing his emotions, meanwhile Counselor Pankratz is too polite to try and hit on a man from a species known for their lack of romantic tendencies. And, since Jaskier is still half-human himself, he can’t technically read thoughts. He can only detect feelings. In my personal opinion, Captain, Jaskier isn’t sure what the Commander thinks of him.”

“Aye, sir, I agree with the Witch,” Lambert nodded. He glanced over his shoulder from his place at the helm and winked at the dark-haired woman roguishly. “Unfortunately.”

Yennefer stuck her tongue out at him.

“Knock it off, you two.” The Captain tried to hide his amusement behind a stern tone but didn’t quite succeed. “I have more pressing matters to deal with than your endless bickering - like children, I swear. Anyhow, we only narrowly managed to make it away from Florelia-4 without breaking the Prime Directive and interrupting their sacrificial rites. We need to be more careful the next time we make contact with such a young, underdeveloped society.”

“I’m sure that Jaskier would be able to teach us a thing or two about diplomacy, especially now that he’s more comfortable around us and has adjusted to the ship. The Counselor probably should have been on that Away team in the first place, then perhaps our unfortunate little debacle could have been prevented entirely.”

“You’re certainly right about his place on the Away team, Yen. I think I’d like him to take the Bridge Officers’ test as well; it would be a great boon to our company to have an empath with Bridge clearance.”

“Do you think he’ll be able to pass on his first try, Captain?” the Security Chief asked.

“He’ll need help, Commander Eskel. I expect you’ll be able to tutor him?”

“I don’t have the time,” Eskel rebutted. “Nor does Lambert; we’re working on that new Ensign Training Program for the Holodeck. Starfleet asked us to have our rough draft turned in by next week.”

“Hmm,” Vesemir leaned back and closed his eyes. His eyebrows gathered at the center of his forehead as he concentrated and Lambert got a terrible idea; a truly awful, completely horrible idea that would definitely end with Commander Geralt’s infinite happiness (regardless of how long it actually took the dumbass Science Officer to get his shit together).

He piped up, chest puffed confidently: “Not to bring the conversation back around to the Commander and his nervous blushing, but why not have Pretty Boy tutor the Counselor, Captain?”

Vesemir let one eye slide carefully open, focusing on the sassy young Lieutenant at the helm. “You mean that I should ask Commander deRiv to keep an eye on Jaskier for the duration of his Bridge Officers’ training?”

“Precisely,” First Officer Vengerberg grinned, catching onto the meaning behind Lambert’s increasingly smug smile. “Oh, you’re absolutely evil, Lamb.”

“I don’t like to meddle in the lives of my officers,” Vesemir grumbled, truly conflicted. “But this promises to be both beneficial and entertaining to all involved.”

“C’mon Captain,” Lambert pleaded. “If he’s too busy to help the Counselor then he’ll tell you so; Geralt isn’t exactly known for his abilities to make excuses or beat around the bush.”

“Alright, alright. You’re all awful and so am I. So be it.” Vesemir huffed. He tapped his communicator pin twice and spoke clearly, “Commander deRiv, please report to the Bridge.”

“On my way, Captain,” the Commander’s monotone voice crackled back.

Lambert and Ciri high-fived at the helm and Yennefer shook her head, biting back a pleased grin. Even the usually calm and collected Eskel seemed excited for whatever was about to unfold.

---

Counselor Pankratz arrived a few minutes after Commander deRiv, determined to speak with the Captain about a completely unrelated matter, and found himself on the business end of Vesemir’s affectionately stern scowl. “After the incident that occurred on our recent Away mission to Florelia-4, I’d like to give you a promotion and increase your list of responsibilities to include supervising any potentially diplomatic situations the Kaer Morhen may encounter from here on out.”

Jaskier gawked openly for a moment before gathering his wits enough to reply: “I’m more than happy to accept your kind and generous offer, Captain Vesemir, and I’m incredibly honored that you would consider me for such a position!”

Geralt stepped forward to stand at Vesemir’s side and Jaskier found himself struggling to remain focused on his commanding officer’s continued speech: “I’d also like you to take the Bridge Officers’ test. Commander deRiv will be in charge of your training regimen, so I’d like you to meet him at the holodeck sometime tomorrow evening for your first round of tutoring. I’ll let you two figure out the finer details, since I’m not privy to your individual schedules.”

“Yes, sir.” Jaskier fought bravely against the growing urge to faint and hid his sudden anxiety behind a calm and grateful smile. “Thank you again for your trust in my capabilities, Captain. I’m truly excited for these new opportunities to learn and to become closer with the other members of the crew.”

Geralt gave a single, accepting nod. “I will do my best to instruct Counselor Pankratz, Captain.”

Lambert winked at the Captain from behind the two unwitting officers’ backs and Vesemir’s scowl relaxed into a near-smile. The Captain clapped Geralt on the shoulder much the same way Geralt had done with Ciri earlier and Geralt wondered if it was mischief glinting in Vesemir’s stormy hazel eyes when he replied, “I’m sure you will, Commander.”

Stardate 47634.44, Evening

Geralt dreamed of his father for the first time that night.

The two men were standing in Geralt’s quarters, familiar and comfortable, as if Korin deRiv had always been a member of the Kaer Morhen’s crew. The human man was grinning down at Geralt with a shining sense of pride.

“Look at you, my son,” Korin smiled, his green eyes crinkling at the corners to reveal his crow’s feet. “You’ve grown quite a bit since I last saw you.”

“Father,” Geralt bowed his head respectfully.

“Just like your Mother, I see,” Korin teased. “All mannerly and polite, with a resting expression more akin to a scowl than a smile. Are you logical to a fault as well, my son?”

Geralt frowned more deeply than he already had been and turned his face away, unable to let his own confusion and conflicting emotions show. Visenna had done little in the way of raising Geralt to begin with, and she’d grown even more distant after his father’s untimely death. Geralt supposed that, with only his Mother’s brilliant coldness as an example of affectionate behavior, he may have taken after her more than he’d realized.

His shoulders sagged and his head drooped.

“Yes.”

“Hmm. You even sound like her,” Korin said. He came around to Geralt’s other side and put one hand on his son’s broad shoulder. “I may not have the kind of mental prowess that you and your Mother share, but I know a yearning heart when I see one.”

“Vulcans do not yearn,” Geralt snapped. He glared up into those familiar eyes and crossed his arms over his chest, feeling (and looking) a little childish as he did so.

“Humans do,” his Father smiled. “And I think that you would feel better if you remembered more often that you’re only half-Vulcan. The other half of your very DNA demands romance, companionship, love, and creativity. Don’t be afraid to step outside of your logical enclosure once and awhile. You may be happily surprised with the results, my son.”

“Did you ever-” Geralt bit his tongue, considered his words, and then continued, “Did you ever regret your decision to stay with Mother?”

“Once,” Korin admitted. “Only once, and it was the day after you were born. She held you in her arms only long enough to feed you and then she handed you to the nursemaid without another word. Not even a parting kiss for her newborn child. Then I remembered her lineage, the way she’d been brought up - without even a scrap of affection - and I forgave her. I loved her all the more after that, to make up for the tenderness she hadn’t gotten to experience when she needed it most…”

Geralt felt an unfamiliar heat behind his eyes and reached up to wipe away a tear. He glared down at the glistening drop of moisture; it clung to the tip of his finger almost desperately, forcing him to confront the emotions he worked so hard to hide during his waking hours. His chest ached. His lungs burned. This felt more real than a dream, more solid and weighty than any subconscious urging.

“Let yourself love him, Geralt,” Korin said as he began to fade from sight, “Don’t argue yourself out of your own happiness. Don’t let yourself be held back by tradition. Not in the face of an emotion so wonderful it could change the way you see the lights outside your starship windows. Free your mind, my son, and your heart will follow.”

With Korin’s ghostly warning thus issued, Geralt sat straight up in bed. He gasped for breath, clutching at his chest - the tacky wetness of half-dried tears on his cheeks was a totally foreign sensation.

Jaskier was at the forefront of his mind, as if the Counselor had been caught on repeat in the Vulcan’s thoughts.

Geralt pictured the way the younger man’s blue eyes sparkled when he laughed. The way Jaskier’s hips swayed enchantingly as meandered his way through Ten Forward or down the starship’s plain beige halls. The way his hair fell just so over his forehead and around his ears. The way he made everyone feel comfortable and safe in their own skin when he was near, an accidental byproduct of both his empathic powers and cheerful personality.

With every little detail Geralt remembered about Jaskier, he felt his human emotions growing stronger and more easy to define. He sorted through them by name in an odd and stringently Vulcan attempt to calm himself down: Lust. Adoration. Excitement. Jealousy. Happiness. Confusion. Anticipation.

Perhaps, though he was still too nervous to fully accept or analyze it yet, Love.

Geralt remained awake all through the night as he attempted to understand and accept the feelings he’d spent his entire life desperately trying to evade.

Still, as a beam of artificial sunlight projected down from the ceiling to spread across his pillow at 06:00, Commander deRiv found himself smiling at the idea that he’d be joining the Counselor on the holodeck later that afternoon, joy blooming hot and comforting at the center of his chest.

It was a sensation he wouldn’t mind getting used to.

Stardate 47648.47

Commander deRiv spent two impossibly long weeks tutoring Counselor Pankratz for the Bridge Officers’ test. The stubborn Counselor insisted that his senior officer refer to him only as “Jaskier” and in turn only referred to the Commander by his first name, the word “Geralt” falling from Jaskier’s lips with such musical normalcy that it nearly felt affectionate.

The time he spent working as Jaskier’s devoted tutor were two of the most tortuous and wonderful weeks of Geralt’s extensive Vulcan lifetime. At the end of the final day of pre-test training courses, Jaskier asked Geralt to meet him for dinner at Ten Forward to celebrate. “I’ve never gone through the promotional system this way and it’s really quite thrilling. I owe you so many favors, dearest Geralt.”

“Hmm.”

“I can feel how proud you are of me,” Jaskier teased, his fingers brushing against Geralt’s shoulder in a casual gesture of affection. The Counselor had grown more comfortable around the Science Officer but still refused to let his touches linger for more than a few seconds at a time. The contact never included full embraces, either; a fact which seemed to grow more bothersome to Geralt with every passing day. The Counselor’s eyebrows crinkled together and his hand fell back to his side, “I suddenly sense an anger in you, a frustration that wasn’t present just before. Are you feeling alright, Commander?”

Commander.

The word struck Geralt in the center of the chest like a Romulan phaser blast, knocking the breath from his lungs. Jaskier hadn’t called him Geralt, musical and sweet and blissfully normal, but Commander. The senior officer reigned in his feelings, slipping back into the comfortable apathy of his Vulcan breeding.

“I’m alright,” Geralt replied smoothly. “I fear that I have not done your training justice; I apologize that I allowed my control to slip. I did not mean for you to experience the brunt of any such negative feelings, Cou- Jaskier.”

A slight smile returned to the Betazoid’s face and his cheeks flushed. Clearly Geralt had made the right decision by ignoring his instinct to use Jaskier’s full title. “I was just worried about you, that’s all.”

“Worried?” Geralt’s eyebrows furrowed again. “About me? Why?”

“Because I care about you.” Jaskier brushed his hand against the back of Geralt’s again, feather-light and far too quick to provide any satisfaction to Geralt’s endless yearning. “Anyway, I can’t sense them anymore, now.”

“I… handled them.”

“You can just turn your feelings on and off like a lightswitch?” Jaskier inquired, genuine curiosity strong in his tone. “They disappeared so quickly.”

“Hmm,” Geralt acknowledged, nodding solemnly. “Historically, emotional control is one of the greatest achievements of Vulcan society. We do not allow our feelings to affect our decisions. We are purely logical, even when parts of our culture appear... otherwise.”

“I am from a very different type of society myself,” Jaskier shrugged. “But I’m sure you know enough about Betazed to understand what I mean. Now, about that dinner?”

They ordered their respective meals from the tableside replicator and chatted as they ate, discussing a wide range of topics. Eventually they landed on: “Vulcan poetry! I’d love to hear some, if you’ve got anything memorized!”

Geralt gave a decent recitation of his favorite childhood poem - the nonsensical story of a young man who could speak to the stars - and watched as Jaskier’s eyes grew round. He knew this expression to be one of adoration or wonder, but he could not sense emotions, and could not parse out the Counselor’s exact reaction. Instead he asked: “Yourself?”

“Betazed has many great poets,” Jaskier mused. “But they’re always so truthful about everything. There’s no mystery in our art, no room for subjective interpretation. I like poems with nuance and insecurity and feeling. I can’t recite it because the written formatting is so integral to its message, but ‘How Do I Love You’ by the renowned human poet Mary Oliver always tangles my heart around itself like a web of yarn. To end the poem with ‘no more words now’ and no punctuation is… enlightening.”

Geralt nodded, adding that information to the bank of details he knew about Counselor Pankratz. “Her work sounds fascinating.”

“Perhaps I could show you my volume of her collected poetry? I’d love to hear your thoughts on the subject.”

“I would be honored,” Geralt nodded, standing from the table and gesturing for Jaskier to lead the way. Counselor Pankratz stood and took Geralt’s hand in his own, interlacing their fingers as casually as anything.

The Commander startled and yanked his arm back without thinking, his mind reeling from the intimacy of such an embrace. Hand touching was… it was… what Jaskier had just done on instinct was far more intimate than anything Geralt had experienced before. The half-Vulcan’s emotions were running wildly away from his firm control.

Jaskier’s face crumpled when he registered Geralt’s rejection and he took a step back. “Oh, my apologies, Commander. I’m sincerely sorry for whatever offense I have committed.”

“It’s not an offense it’s just that-” Geralt took a deep breath to steady himself “-touching hands is not something a Vulcan does casually. It is a very meaningful and personal gesture on my planet.”

“That particular detail of your heritage slipped my mind in my excitement,” the Counselor bowed shallowly, his pretty blue shawl nearly slipping off one slender shoulder. “My continued apologies, Commander. I hope you can forgive me.”

“It was an accident,” Geralt replied. “And there is nothing to forgive. It pleases me that you were comfortable enough to treat me as a friend, Jaskier.”

“You called me by my name! That means you must forgive me. Now, are you still interested in seeing those poems?”

Geralt smiled, that warm joyful feeling spreading out through his limbs once again at the sight of Jaskier’s giddy grin. “Lead the way.”

Stardate 47653.52

Jaskier squared his shoulders and leaned over one of the Engineering monitors, “Computer, load Bridge Officer's test, Engineering qualification section one.”

“Computer ready.”

“Run programme.”

Lambert spoke up from beside him, the colors on his monitor flashing and shifting: “The control system for the primary containment field is not functioning.”

Geralt’s head snapped up and he locked eyes with Jaskier. “Something's severed the ODN conduit between here and the antimatter storage deck.”

Jaskier realized what was happening and felt a rush of icy anxiety down the length of his spine. “Geralt, could you repair the ODN conduit if you used the crawlspace between decks?”

Lambert frowned. “Sir, that crawlway is in a warp-plasma shaft. He would never survive the radiation.”

“I know that,” Jaskier snapped, trying to keep a level head. Even if this was just a simulation, he hated the idea of sending Geralt to his death. It was the most horrifying thought in the universe, but Geralt was the only one whose expertise could save the ship. And the hundreds of others aboard that ship. “Still, I’m afraid that particular information doesn’t change anything. Geralt, can you repair the conduit?”

The Science Officer nodded once, his face as unmoving as ever. “Yes, Sir.”

“Then do it. That's an order.”

Geralt grabbed a toolbox off the table, turned, and ducked into one of the Jeffries tubes that led to the crawl ducts.

Lambert laughed with glee as he slapped his hand down over one of the glowing instructional panels. “End simulation! Well, Officer Pankratz, I’d like to be the first to offer my official congratulations on your new promotion. You passed!”

Jaskier breathed shakily and smiled over at Geralt, who had returned to his position at the secondary control panel. “That's what this was all about, wasn't it? To see if I could order someone to their death. Someone… Someone I care about.”

Geralt nodded. “That's right.”

“I know that sacrifice is part of being in command and I thought I was prepared for it, but when the moment came... I hesitated. Maybe I shouldn’t have applied in the first place. I don’t know that I could ever hurt y- uh, hurt a fellow crew member, even in an emergency situation.”

“You did exactly what you had to do,” Geralt intoned, taking Jaskier gently by the hand. Jaskier gasped at the gesture, knowing exactly what kind of cultural lines Geralt was crossing for a Vulcan. Lambert disappeared from the room, finally showing his gentlemanly side, and Geralt continued in his low gravelly voice: “You considered all your options, tried every alternative, and then made the hardest but most logical choice a good Captain can make. Now, let's get out of here, Commander. Let me take you to Ten Forward to celebrate.”

Geralt had turned to make for the door but Jaskier tugged him back again, keeping both of his own feet planted firmly on the carpet. “Wait a moment, please?”

Geralt slowly spun to face Jaskier, one of his slanted eyebrows raised in curiosity. “Yes, Commander?”

“Stop calling me that,” Jaskier landed a limp-wristed slap to the Science Officer’s chest with his free hand. Geralt felt the urge to smile and allowed himself the indulgence; it was well worth the sunny grin that Jaskier gave him in return. “Anyway, Officer deRiv… There’s something I need to tell you.”

“I like you, too.”

“This may sound odd but I’m a highly emotional being and I- Wait, what?”

“You are incredibly sweet, Counselor Pankratz, and very kind. You care deeply for those around you and always do your best to help them find peace for themselves. I find those to be admirable traits, logically appealing in a mate, and I also find you… rather pretty.”

Jaskier’s eyes were nebulas, two sparkling pools of endless blue that twinkled and shone as if filled with the very stars themselves. Geralt’s heart raced as he brought their linked hands up and brushed his warm lips against the back of Jaskier’s knuckles. The Betazoid bit his lip, flushed an even deeper pink, and whispered his request: “May I kiss you, Imzadi?”

“We’re already kissing,” Geralt glanced down at their joined hands.

“According to Vulcans, yes,” Jaskier’s smile widened. “But may I kiss you according to my traditions?”

“Yes,” Geralt agreed, leaning forward to meet Jaskier halfway. The newly minted Commander released Geralt’s hand in order to tangle his fingers in the taller man’s silvery hair. He kissed Geralt with everything he had, pushing his feelings across the difference in their telepathic wavelengths, desperate to make himself clear. Make himself known.

When they pulled apart for air, Geralt was grinning. “Kissing for such a long time is completely illogical…”

Jaskier felt his heart drop into his shoes.

And then Geralt’s hands were on his waist, pulling him in again, rumbling laughter carrying the Vulcan’s next words, “Do it again!”

#geraskier #geraskier fic #geraskier collab #spielzeugkaiser #geraskier fluff #geraskier star trek au #geraskier in space #geraskier ficlet #geraskier fanfic #geraskier getting together #bouncey's endless getting together fics #but in space #betazoid jaskier #vulcan geralt #geralt/jaskier

[a-kind-of-merry-war]

The Novigrad Beer Festival

Remember how I was talking about a brewery AU? Well... @srapsodia​ and I may have gotten a little carried away. Please take a look at their gorgeous illustrations (in the fic), I’m obsessed.

Jaskier’s had a working relationship with Geralt for months, selling each other’s beers at their respective breweries. Geralt is passionate, interesting, excellent at banter... in fact, he’s perfect - aside from the fact that Jaskier doesn’t even know what he looks like. At the Novigrad Beer Festival, he’s determined to find out.

1.9k of fluff and crushing. Contains alcohol/drinking.

~

Jaskier fiddled nervously with the lanyard around his neck, sliding his pass in and out of the little ID holder. He nearly dropped it more than once - swearing at himself as he did. He wasn’t nearly well-known enough to hope the security at the door would recognise him, and he’d promised his boss - several times - that he wouldn’t lose the plastic card that was his ticket in and out of the Novigrad Beer Festival.

He had, by his estimation, around thirty minutes before Zoltan expected him back. The brewery - Chameleon - was way back on the edge of the field - far away from the stage and sandwiched between the handful of sweet wine sellers and a microbrewery from Temeria that specialised in aromatic pale ales, staffed by a pretty woman with a cloud of chestnut coloured hair. Jaskier hadn’t been terribly surprised that they’d been put out of the way - they were famed more for their unusual flavour combinations and range of sours than traditional IPAs or bitters, and so would garner less of a crowd.

Thirty minutes of freedom. Thirty minutes in which to find Kaer Morhen Brewery, seek out the mysterious Geralt, and…

…and he didn’t know. He’d figure that out once he actually found him.

He’d been talking to Geralt for nearly four months now. Zoltan had put him in charge of their outreach, and Kaer Morhen was one of the breweries they’d had a working relationship with for years - way before Jaskier had started working at Chameleon. Kaer Morhen brewed what Jaskier thought of as old man beer - traditional to the core, but very good at what they did.

The “working relationship” meant, in brief, that they stocked each other’s cans and bottles - which worked out well for both of them, at such opposing ends of the microbrew spectrum - and were making tentative steps towards a collaboration some time next year.

It also meant that all their communication was now going through Jaskier - and a mysterious man working at Kaer Morhen called Geralt.

The job was an easy one: mostly arranging deliveries when they ran out of stock and occasionally exchanging ideas. There were dozens of breweries in the area that Chameleon had a similar relationship with… yet Kaer Morhen felt different.

No: it wasn’t the brewery. It was Geralt that felt different.

They’d fallen into a quick, easy rapport: he’d email Geralt complaining that their fridge was out of old man beer and they needed more, and Geralt would email back with faux-indignation before requesting a restock of the one with the artsy can. That didn’t help - they all had artsy cans - and Geralt fucking well knew it.

It was easy talking to Geralt, be it over email or over the phone or - eventually - over text. Zoltan had raised his eyebrows at that, but as Jaskier had pointed out, Kaer Morhen was entirely family-run, and texting Geralt at 7pm on his personal number was far more likely to get a quick response than one sent to their business email address at midday.

Jaskier had found himself recommending their beers more often, clearing their shelf on the fridge quickly. It was just because their beer was good, he told himself. It was not because he wanted an excuse to message Geralt.

Not that he needed an excuse. A quick request for two dozen bottles of Steel - their most popular IPA - could result in several hours of chat, even though Geralt had sent a dispatch notice to their courier within a minute.

The problem - both when Jaskier was lying awake in bed thinking about Geralt and the one that was immediately presenting itself to him - was that he had no idea what the brewer actually looked like.

Their social media page had been utterly unhelpful. It was all new beers and re-stocks and the occasional, slightly off-centre photo of a new bit of equipment or a delivery of hops. The staff may as well have not existed.

He’d tried looking through their followers too, going off name alone - but that was equally fruitless. He found a couple of names he recognised from their work together - Eskel, Lambert - but both had such strict privacy settings that he couldn’t get much further than their names and profile pictures, neither of which were particularly helpful. (A goat! He’d complained to Priss at the time. Who sets their profile picture to a fucking goat?!)

Zoltan had been just as unhelpful. When Jaskier had asked - in a final act of desperation - what this mysterious Geralt person looked like, Zoltan had only shrugged.

“He’s got white hair,” he said, and that was all he said. Jaskier rather suspected he was being vague on purpose.

Well. Now he had a chance to find out.

Jaskier didn’t even know how old Geralt was. Older than himself, he assumed, and judging by his perfect grammar, complete lack of anything more complex than a smiley face and non-existent social media presence he wasn’t exactly online - not in the same way that Jaskier was. He could be ancient. He didn’t even know what a meme was, for Melitele’s sake, before Jaskier had introduced him to the concept. That, plus Zoltan’s sparse description, had meant he’d had to accept some time ago that Geralt might be rather older than himself.

That had given Jaskier pause. He had nothing against older men, of course, but the issue lay more in if Geralt - if he was older - would have anything against him. So to speak.

He dropped the plastic ID card and swore, quickly stooping to grab it. He needed to rein in that train of thought. He’d only ever spoken to Geralt online, and whatever this infatuation was, it was entirely one-sided. He had a crush on the man who lived inside his computer, nothing more. However funny and charming and incredibly good at banter Geralt was, Jaskier had to remind himself that it was, for the most part, imagined. He was getting the best parts of Geralt, not the whole.

That didn’t make him feel any less nervous. It didn’t stop his stomach from doing flips as he made his way slowly down the long row of tents, reading each sign with his heart in his throat, looking for Kaer Morhen Brewery.

He knew Geralt was going to be here. He’d told Jaskier so himself, and had even suggested they meet, if they could get a spare half hour together. Jaskier kept reminding himself of that fact: Geralt wanted to meet him. He wasn’t imposing.

Jaskier walked slowly by each tent, reading. And then - there - a few meters away. Kaer Morhen Brewery. He recognised the logo immediately - a howling wolf silhouetted against a crescent moon.

And standing beneath the hastily printed and sloppily laminated sign, sorting out neat piles of coins, was a man. Jaskier swallowed. He was older - quite a lot older, actually - his grey hair pulled into a half-ponytail at the back of his head. Was this Geralt? Fuck. There was only one way to find out.

Jaskier sidled over to the tent.

“Hi,” he said, and then immediately regretted not opening with something smoother. “I’m Jaskier, from Chameleon.”

The man looked up. “Ah yes,” he said, “Zoltan’s newest. Good to finally meet you.”

“Likewise,” said Jaskier, leaning against the makeshift bar in an attempt to look casual. “So, ah, forgive my ignorance, but… are you Geralt?”

The man burst out laughing.

“No,” he grinned, folding his arms. “That’s my son.”

Son? Jaskier floundered, confused, before his mind caught up with him, a little relieved. This must be Vesemir, the owner of the brewery, which meant...

“He’s over there,” Vesemir continued, gesturing behind him with a nod and a small smile.

Jaskier swallowed. He peered over the older man’s shoulder, straight into the eyes of—

He suddenly forgot what beer was. He also forgot what sentences were, what words were and, finally, what his own name was - till all that was left in the now ringing space between his ears was the man in front of him, his white hair and his golden eyes, and the way his too-tight t-shirt was clinging to his arms.

Oh.

Oh, no.

~

Geralt was very vaguely aware, in a distant, other-worldly way, that his hand was wet. Wet and cold. That was odd, really, because he was feeling extremely warm everywhere else.

Jaskier. There was no one else the guy leaning against the bar could be. He’d not even seen a picture of him, aside from out-of-focus shots in the back of photos of Chameleon, but he knew it was him.

His face was flushed, his eyes were wide, and he was wearing what was without a doubt the ugliest, most luridly coloured shirt Geralt had ever seen. And it worked, somehow - what would have looked ridiculous on anyone else made him look… Geralt wasn’t even sure how to describe it. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to try, because anything he could come up with wouldn’t even touch on how—

“Geralt!”

He blinked.

“Geralt, what the fuck?!”

He looked down. The beer he’d been pouring - just to test the pressure - had filled the glass and was now spilling down his fingers and onto the bar below. Shit.

“Uh...” he managed, before Lambert pushed him aside, releasing the handle and finally stopping the steady flow of the bitter they’d been perfecting for nearly six months.

“For fuck’s sake.” Lambert swore, chucked a tea towel at him and shepherded him towards the bar, towards Vesemir, towards—

“Hello,” Geralt managed, weakly, the tea towel hanging forgotten in his hand.

Jaskier’s mouth was ajar. He shut it, quickly. “Hi.”

Vesemir glanced between them. Geralt hoped he wasn’t blushing, but knew he probably was: he could feel his ears burning.

“I’ll leave you to it then, shall I?” Said Vesemir, scooping up the change he’d been counting out, ready for the rush later in the evening.

“I… yeah,” said Geralt - and then realised, with some terror, that he was still staring at Jaskier. He pulled his eyes away to look at his father properly. “Yes,” he said, “Right.”

Vesemir rolled his eyes - a fond expression that Geralt was all-too used to - before heading through the flap of the tent behind them and out to the yard beyond. After a few moments, Geralt heard the tell-tale sound of Eskel bursting into laughter, and winced apologetically at Jaskier.

“So,” he said, desperate to move on and aware they hadn’t really been introduced. “Jaskier?”

“Yep,” Jaskier grinned, and stuck out his hand. “Geralt?”

Without thinking, Geralt took it - and then immediately grimaced: his hand was still coated in beer. Jaskier didn’t even seem to notice - or if he did, he didn’t care - and his grip was firm, if a little sweaty. It made Geralt’s stomach flip.

“That’s me,” he said.

“Nice to finally put a, ah… a face to a name,” Jaskier said, with a little smile.

“Yeah,” Geralt agreed. And then added, instantly regretting it - “Really nice.”

Jaskier’s grin spread - lighting him up - and Geralt realised, suddenly, that their hands were still gripped across the bar. He let go quickly and self consciously, his palm tingling, hoping that Jaskier didn’t think he was utterly mad. He resisted the urge to wipe his hand on his trousers, lest Jaskier think he was reacting to him, not the increasingly sticky beer drying on his fingers.

“Do you want to, ah…” Geralt looked around, feeling suddenly out of his depth. “Do you want to get a drink? Before the rush?”

Jaskier smirked. “Sure,” he said, eyes sparkling. “Know any good breweries around here?”

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #collab #brewery AU #cw alcohol #once AGAIN I am having Feelings about how amazing raps' art is GOSH #i am BLESSED #also i really want to add more to this but... time and energy and stuff so watch this space #maybe LATER #anyway the real good shit here is raps' art #which i am now obsessed with forever and ever

[firefly-party]

I'm very honored that I got an early read on @whispered-story's latest fic I Came to Buy a Smile Today to create this picture for her. I recommend this fic to everyone who's into a soft and fluffy story, full of feelings and the exact right amount of smut ;D

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #fic recommendation #sort of a collab haha #kei's witcher art

[jew-flexive]

mostly we don’t want to harm each other

a collaboration for the 2021 @geraskierbigbang​! fic by: @jew-flexive​; a03 art by: @breannaneo​ fic rating: teen word count: 16,275 relationships: geralt/jaskier, past jaskier/countess de stael, minor geralt/yennefer warnings: no archive warnings apply tags: alternate universe - modern setting, angst with a happy ending, not actually unrequited love, kid fic, jewish jaskier, past underage, emotional infidelity, famous jaskier, domestic fluff, new york city, jewish identity, alcohol, post-divorce, healing, yiddish, pov jaskier, pov jewish character summary:

“Thank you,” he murmurs to Geralt as they sit together on his couch, both nursing hot toddies (Geralt’s praise for Jaskier’s heavy pour was so effusive it made him blush like he hasn’t since he was a teenager and Victoria Stael had him by the wrist at a Grammys afterparty) and watching the girls play with the LEGO set Jaskier got Essi for Chanukah. It’s for the gifts but it’s also for everything else. “The wine is really more for me than for you, Jas,” Geralt smirks, but he softens quickly, his gaze warm, nudging Jaskier with his shoulder, understanding what Jaskier was trying to say without needing to be told. “But no problem.”

That’s what Jaskier likes about Geralt. With him, some things can be left unsaid. Jaskier never thought he’d take such comfort in silence, wordsmith that he is and has always been, but with Geralt, he is learning how to sit with the quiet, how to speak without sound.

Read the fic here!

Art post

#geraskier #the witcher tv #the witcher #the witcher netflix #the witcher fic #geraskier big bang #geralt of rivia #jaskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt/jaskier #essi daven #collab #Yennefer of Vengerberg #cirilla fiona elen riannon #ciri #cirilla #jewish fiction #geraskier Big Bang 2021

[asweetprologue]

these hands make clean

(next part of the current fic train! this one was fun)

previous | next | masterpost

This part of Velen is hazardous, marshy even during the driest season. The ground sucks at his boots as he pushes his way past the gravestones, most of them smooth and new. There had been a plague here recently, the graveyard suddenly swelling with bodies. That’s what had caused the graveir to show up, Geralt had said earlier that day. They couldn’t resist fresh meat, especially when it was improperly buried. The newly turned earth is rapacious, forcing Jaskier to slow his pace from a sprint to a stumble as he tries not to trip in the dark.

It’s because of his focus on the treacherous ground that he sees it. Geralt’s sword, half buried in the muck, the metal winking up at him.

Geralt is holding his own still, quen and igni lighting up in the corner of Jaskier’s eye in flashes of brilliant gold. Jaskier takes one perilous moment to turn away from the fight entirely, shoving his fingers down into the mud to try and find the hilt of Geralt’s sword. Based on the sharp pain that cuts across his palm, he knows he’s misjudged the distance. He winces, but he can hear Geralt’s grunts as the creature slams against him and it doesn’t matter. Jaskier grabs the sword and heaves it out of the swampy ground, staggering under its weight.

When he looks up, it’s just in time to see Geralt throw out a hand at the same moment that a concussive blast echoes through the graveyard. A flock of birds somewhere in the trees beyond the clearing take flight with a cacophony of screeches. Jaskier himself has to take a bracing step back as the force of the aard knocks into him, but the graveir hardly seems bothered. Now closer, Jaskier can see that it’s a truly ugly thing. Pale, discolored flesh stretches over bulging muscles, its skin mottled with a patchwork of dark, flakey spots that Jaskier knows must be dried blood. Whether it belongs to the creature or its victims, he couldn’t say.

The hilt of Geralt’s sword is slick in his palm. He wonders where the steel is - Geralt always has both on him, and by the shape of the pommel Jaskier knows this is the silver. For monsters. Geralt would have gone for the other one as soon as this one fell from his grasp, though Jaskier’s not sure how effective it would be. He pulls the sword into an upright position, ignoring how the cut on his hand screams at him in protest.

His boots make a terrible squelching sound when he heaves them up to start in Geralt’s direction again. If he can get close enough, Geralt can hopefully maneuver himself into a position where Jaskier can easily hand him back his sword, and they can finish this. The witcher doesn’t look injured, just annoyed, and he doesn’t seem to have noticed Jaskier yet, consumed as he is in his task. Jaskier can’t afford to shout, unwilling to distract him. He’ll just have to hope that Geralt notices him before the graveir does.

The graveir turns to follow Geralt as he twists away from a blow, and in the moonlight Jaskier catches sight of an unsettlingly smooth face, a horrible puckered hole where the mouth should be. There is a dark line against its silhouette; Geralt’s other sword is sticking out of its belly, buried nearly to the hilt. Jaskier sees when Geralt notices him, the witcher opening his mouth as gold eyes meet his own.

Which is, of course, when the graveir spots him, and when Jaskier trips.

#geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #witcher #the witcher #twn #fic #fanfiction #writing #geralt x jaskier #geralt/jaskier #my work #train #collab

[wherethewordsare]

first | previous | next | master post

It’s nearly too easy to get Lambert drunk. Jaskier rarely finds himself having to encourage the witcher into another round. One detour to the bar and he has the barmaid convinced to make sure his own cup stays full of something far less strong while Lambert continues to lace his own with that homebrew the witchers somehow tolerate. Most of them at least, Geralt seemed to have been struggling. 

When he returns to the table with yet another round, Lambert pulls Jaskier down into his lap and chuckles, going on about the first cockatrice he and his brothers faced. Jaskier can’t help but think of when Geralt had told him the story and how it wasn’t nearly as colorful. 

As the night wears on, Jaskier slowly lets Lambert get used to his hands on his chest, his fingers inching towards the inside pocket, towards the deck of cards, towards his prize. All the while he keeps an eye on Lambert’s face, remotely wondering if all witchers are this stunning or is it just the Wolves. 

For a moment, Lambert’s eyes slide from Jaskier’s face, then he’s back, smirking into a joke that Jaskier would actually find fairly amusing had he not just managed to slide his fingers into that inner pocket. A hand wraps around his wrist and suddenly the glazed amused look Lambert had been wearing falls away, replaced by that same smug look he had had when Jaskier approached him about the card in the first place. 

“Ah ah, bard. Not so fast. Try it and it’s going to cost you,” his smile isn’t exactly what Jaskier would describe as unkind and there is something like satisfaction in the way Lambert tilts his head. 

Jaskier’s stomach drops, a feeling of being caught that has nothing to do with the card that he can’t quite name but he can still feel the edge of the cards against his finger tips. “Name your price, witcher,” he shoots back, hoping he doesn’t reek of absolute anxiety. 

“I don’t know if you’re willing to pay it,” Lambert releases his wrist but doesn't push Jaskier from his lap, his arm around his hips holding him securely. 

“What is it, Lambert,” Jaskier huffs, still not pulling his hand away from the cards. He has no chance of actually getting them from the witcher he knows, but at least he could say he tried. 

“Jaskier, if you want that card back so badly, you’re going to have to pay me,” Lambert raises an eyebrow, his prize well within reach it seems. “You’re going to have to tell me the truth.”

Jaskier nearly laughs, though from fear bubbling up in his throat or from the ridiculousness of it all. “The truth?” He nearly chokes.

“Why do you want that card so badly?” Lambert leans into his space now, the wolfish grin on his face predatory. 

“I… what? I don’t? It’s for Geralt.” Jaskier pulls his hands back as if he’s been burned. 

“And really think, bard, and think hard before you answer, why do you think that is?” 

Jaskier looks away, looking back at the steps for a moment, thinking of Geralt, shaking his head in confusion. Why indeed?

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #writing train #jay writes #jay writes with lovely people <3 #collab fic

[im-fairly-whitty]

Linework by @inennui and coloring by me, two angsty boys who need to Learn To Communicate Their Feelings Clearly.

#geralt #jaskier #geraskier #in love with this slick linework #especially the strong anatomy #thanks so much for making this availible to color! #coloring other people’s stuff is always a treat for me #wit art #art collab

[buffskierights]

Under the Black Sun fanart

Sketch done by the lovely @bamf-jaskier​ and color by myself. You can watch a speedpaint here!

Is this a collab? Have I collabed with someone now? If so, I’m glad it was with Aleia :D

#the witcher #geraskier #fic rec #fan art #my art #geraskier pirate au #geralt of rivia #jaskier #my writing #fanfiction #speedpaint #collab #vimeo

[xperiwrites]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, The Witcher (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion Characters: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion, The Manager Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Geraskier, Public Display of Affection, Geralt being Softe, Jaskier likes Attention, Open Mic Night, Geralt will begrudgingly use a car, Jaskier the Singer, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Roach is mentioned but not featured unforunately, Modern Monsterhunting, Manager pov Series: Part 2 of Modern Monster Hunting Summary:

When they were told that Jaskier was moving their meeting to another location and that he was ‘sending a ride’ they didn’t think that ride would be the Witcher. --- Geralt doesn't mind giving Jaskiers jumpy manager a ride. No. Really. He doesn't.

#the witcher #ao3 #fanfiction #geraskier #geralt/jaskier #fanfic #writing #modern au #modern monsterhunting #xperi writing #collab #co written #the manager is back #cute #fluffy

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

Take Me, I’m Yours

(the highest voted options on the poll were ‘Geralt rescues Jaskier from trouble’ and ‘Jaskier riles the Captain up in public’ so I teamed up with the ever-marvelous, stupendously talented @limrx to bring you this Swashbuckling AU oneshot/art piece featuring a horribly jealous Geralt and a frisky, flirty Jaskier)

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

“Do you think he likes me back?” Jaskier asked. He leaned over the ship’s railing to look more closely at the dolphin following behind them. Lambert didn’t think he’d fall overboard but it would be kind of funny if he did. The strange young nobleman did have a way of always landing on his feet, though. 

“I know he does.”

“Well how come he hasn’t told me anything about it, then?” 

“You’ve met the Captain, right? About this tall, long white hair, weird yellow eyes, emotionally incompetant?” 

“You have a good point. Should I just confront him about it?”

“Yeah, sure.” Lambert rolled his eyes before shooting Jaskier a pointed look. “If you want to send your ransom note back to Lettenhove the following morning.”

“Fuck. I just want to kiss him, Lambert. Regularly. I want to know if he snores or not. I want to lay on the deck beneath the stars and talk to him like we’re friends and not just pirate and pseudo-pirate-captive. I really want to see what his ass looks like under those godsforsaken trousers, Lambert, it’s killing me not knowing.”

“You’re more insatiable than a siren during the rainy season,” the second mate teased. “But with fewer teeth.”

“Shut up.”

“Are you going ashore when we lay anchor?”

“Am I allowed?”

“I assume you’ll be allowed. You’re practically part of the crew. You’ve been aboard for nearly two weeks and you’ve pulled your fair share of the weight, if not moreso.”

“Why thank you, Lambert. I appreciate you noticing.”

“Of course, Jaskier. You may be an utter fool and a fop to boot, but at least you’re a hard worker.”

“Asshole.”

“Mhm.”

They both watched the dolphins for a minute in silence before Jaskier’s face split into the most heinous and dastardly grin. It filled Lambert with an unmistakable sense of fear and worry. “I have a brilliant idea. I know how to get Geralt to admit his feelings.”

“No, absolutely not. I am not getting roped into this, you horrible little minx. Don’t give me that look! I won’t help you this time!”

“But Lamby-bert,” Jaskier whined. “If he has someone to take all his frustrations out on in bed then I’m sure it’ll be easier to negotiate for higher shares next time we take a vessel.”

Lambert did not miss the fact that Jaskier said ‘we’ when referring to the crew. The second mate knew the little nobleman was here to stay; it had been clear that Jaskier would be sticking around from the moment Geralt first laid eyes (and hands) on him. The Captain hadn’t stopped looking out for the lad since. Lambert wasn’t even going to think about that singular flirty kiss atop the mainmast nearly a week and a half ago. Geralt had been pining after the acrobatic little idiot ever since and making absolutely no move to flirt back. It was driving the crew absolutely crazy. “Alright, you devilish siren. I’m in.”

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

Jaskier cleaned up nice.

And he deserved to clean up nice. He’d worked hard to put this outfit together. Billy had lent him a pair of dark blue breeches in return for Jaskier’s help with mending the mainsail. The shirt he was wearing was half a size too big, which was exactly big enough for the neckline to plunge even lower than he usually wore it. This way it revealed more of his toned (and rather hirsute) chest. He’d borrowed it from Starkey, who was the same height as him but who had much broader shoulders.

The Captain was going to absolutely die when he saw Jaskier.

He whistled a rather naughty shanty as he exited the bunk room and made his way towards the gangplank where Starkey, Lambert, and Eskel were waiting for him. He spun in a quick circle, arms out to show off his clothes. Lambert and Starkey whistled appreciatively and Eskel hid his face in the palm of his hand. “Ready, boys?”

“Absolutely not,” Starkey smiled. The first mate standing next to him tilted his head back to look at the sky, sighing deeply.

“Are you sure about this? What if the Captain tries to kill Lambert?”

“He won’t be killing anyone. Hopefully. If he does run his sword through anyone, it will most likely be me,” Jaskier joked. “Now, this is my first time drinking with real pirates. Anything I should know?”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Eskel suggested. Lambert bit back a laugh and Starkey snorted.

“Impossible.”

“Well then, let’s go.”

The four men made their way down onto the docks and through the sparse crowd of sailors and merchants still mingling in the evening light. Starkey led them to a decent tavern and found a vacant corner table, which gave them an excellent view of the door.

Geralt and Starkey had spent the morning selling their stolen cargo to various merchants, shopkeepers, and artisans. The Captain had divided up the gold between his crew according to their various contracts and Jaskier, more as a jest than anything else, was given two crowns as well. “For not dying,” Geralt had intoned seriously. The men were amused but Jaskier’s face had gone bright red with embarrassment. The young noble had talked them out of trouble with the Skelligan patrols twice last week and Geralt was repaying him with public humiliation? Lambert knew that the Captain’s earlier actions were about to make this evening a lot more entertaining (if slightly uncomfortable) and he was ready to get this show on the road. He flung an arm around Jaskier’s waist and ordered them all a round of ales.

“So everyone knows what the general goal here is, right?” Jaskier clarified.

“Yes,” Eskel nodded. “You’re using Geralt’s jealous nature to make him act on his less than subtle feelings for you.”

“Correct. Wonderful.”

Lambert squeezed the noble’s hip through his borrowed pants and Jaskier huffed indignantly in reply. Starkey chuckled softly at their antics and winked at the barmaid when she brought them their drinks. “Can’t wait, really. It’s been so boring lately and the last two ships we took didn’t even fight back. This is drama. This is entertainment!”

“Shut up, Starkey,” Jaskier pouted. He leaned back into Lambert’s embrace and gulped down half his ale.

“Slow down, kid,” the first mate teased. “Or you will be drunk when he gets here and your plan won’t work.”

“I need to get the pink in my cheeks or I’ll look suspicious,” Jaskier argued. “One ale should do it without getting me tipsy. Maybe two if it’s weak.”

“Method actors,” Lambert rolled his eyes.

Jaskier was sipping slowly at his second ale and the other three pirates were on their fourth or fifth when Geralt finally came barreling through the tavern door. “There you are!” Eskel shouted, waving the Captain over. Nobody missed the barely-hidden glare Geralt aimed at Lambert’s arm where it rested against the nobleman’s lower back.

“Captain,” the second mate nodded.

“Lambert. Eskel. Starkey.” Geralt greeted them all in turn.

“Heyyyy,” Jaskier whined, leaning forward against the edge of the table and pouting. “What about me, sir?”

“You.”

“Rude,” the brunette huffed. Lambert ran a lazy hand up and down his spine and Jaskier watched as Geralt’s eyes narrowed into slits. He sighed sadly and melodramatically into his mug and nodded once in the second mate’s direction. “Thank you, darling. At least someone in this crew likes me.”

Starkey saw Geralt’s eyelid twitch and slid Eskel two crowns under the table to settle their bet. He thought the vein on their Captain’s throat would show up before the eyelid went, but it must have been the first mate’s lucky night this time around. “Hey Eskel, let’s see if any of the lovely ladies here want to dance with us, eh?”

“You coming, Captain?” Eskel asked. “Seems like Jaskier and Lambert are a bit busy.”

“Yes, Geralt,” Jaskier egged him on. The Captain had a white-knuckled grip on the handle of his mug. The noble took a long swig of ale and licked a bit of foam from his lip when he was finished, noting the way Geralt’s eyes locked onto his mouth. “Why not go dance with a pretty lady. Certainly nobody else has your attention.”

The pirate Captain finally snapped. He slammed his mug down and reached around the table to grab Jaskier around the waist. He hauled him out of the second mate’s grip and onto his feet. “Captain, what are yo-”

“Yer coming with me, siren,” Geralt snarled. Lambert relinquished the nobleman with very little fuss, winking at Jaskier as the pirate Captain swung him up and over his broad shoulder. The young man flashed all three of his co-conspirators a thumbs up as he was carried out of the tavern like a sack of potatoes.

“A little rude to Lambert, don’t you think, sir?” he asked, resting his elbow against Geralt’s shoulder blade and settling his chin onto his hand. He crossed his ankles to make it easier for the pirate to balance his weight comfortably. “But they’ll be happy to know that our little plan worked out.”

Geralt stopped in his tracks but did not set his captive down. “Your what?”

“Our plan,” Jaskier explained as if bored. “To get you to finally do something about all this sexual tension between us. I kissed you on the mouth for fuck’s sake.”

“I thought it was an accident.”

“Oh, and saving you from hanging at the hands of some Skelligan officers, was that an accident? Not sending a ransom note last time we stopped for water and not turning you in for the reward in Novigrad, were those accidents too? There is a hefty bounty on your head, White Wolf, and I could be living independently in a castle somewhere right now except that I happen to find you endlessly attractive and fascinating.”

“Hmm.” Geralt resumed walking. Jaskier noticed with a smirk that his pace had picked up quite a bit. As if he was suddenly in a hurry to be somewhere.

“Hum dismissively all you like, sir, but you’re still carrying me back to your cabin to ravish me senseless, are you not?”

“Ravish may be the wrong word for what I’d like to do to you, but you do look rather tempting.”

“Thank you. I put a lot of effort into this ensemble.”

“You’re a calculating little nymph, aren’t you?”

“No, of course not. I only managed to secure a bunk aboard the Kaer Morhen and wrap its infamous captain around my finger in less than a month. I am but a silly nobleman with excellent dexterity and a penchant for climbing.”

“Lambert was right to call you a minx.”

“He does love that nickname.”

“It’s not an endearment.”

“Whatever.” The ground shifted and Jaskier knew they were making their way up the gangplank and back onto the ship. This was the part he’d been waiting for! Geralt kicked in his cabin door and stepped inside, turning to close and lock it behind them. Jaskier wriggled impatiently. “Set me down!”

“Hmm, no. I rather like the view from here.”

“Excuse me?”

Geralt gave him a gentle smack on the ass, almost a pat really, and huffed out a laugh at Jaskier’s offended noise. “You’ve been an awful lot of trouble for a nobleman and a captive.”

“I’m barely a captive, Geralt. Give it up already.”

“You haven’t signed the book.” He set Jaskier back on his feet and looped his arms around the younger man’s waist to pull him close. “You’re still a captive until you swear on the book and sign your name next to the others. Then you’ll be part of my crew.”

“I have yet to negotiate for my shares,” the brunette stated. He tilted his chin back, baring his neck slightly and offering Geralt his ale-damp lips. “Ten crowns after every capture and I get to sleep in here with you. That sounds fair.”

“You’re a good worker. Seven crowns, you can sleep in here with me, and you can borrow my bandannas whenever you want.”

“Even the red one?”

“Especially the red one.”

Jaskier’s soft pink mouth brushed against the pirate’s as he murmured his answer: “Deal.”

Geralt’s lips crashed against Jaskier’s with the strength of a wave hitting the side of his ship in a maelstrom. The Captain’s mouth was so warm and his lips moved against the younger man’s with almost frightening determination. As if he was trying to prove himself. His arms were strong around the nobleman’s lower back and his white hair brushed deliciously against the skin of Jaskier’s neck.

“You’ve bewitched me, body and soul.”

“Oh, Geralt,” the younger man sighed, opening his mouth to let the other in. I never thought the word ‘plunder’ could apply to kissing but here I stand, corrected by experience yet again. The White Wolf of the Seven Seas pulled away, made breathless by a young and foolish nobleman in search of adventure.

“I’m not a siren, you know. Not even a little. My family’s estate is landlocked.”

Geralt’s fingers rose from his waist and brushed against his cheekbone reverently. Those amber eyes, so cold and focused when he shouted orders or intimidated a merchant captain, were looking down at Jaskier with such devoted tenderness. The ex-noble felt his heart fill anew and double in size. There wasn’t enough room in his body to hold all of this feeling.

“Kiss me again, Captain. Take me to bed.”

“You’re too good at tempting me. You must be evil.”

“I assure you,” Jaskier smirked, ripping Geralt’s shirt over his head in one smooth movement. “I am.”

#fanfic #geraskier fic #geraskier fanfic #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt/jaskier #swashbuckling au #geraskier swashbuckling au #pirate au #geraskier pirate au #geraskier pirates au #geraskier pirates #limrx is a fucking queen and i owe her my life #collab #geraskier collab #limrx #i borrowed starkey from Peter Pan #lambert #eskel #the witcher fanfic

[jaskierswolf]

Sugar and Spice

Thanks to @journeythroughunknownlands for working with me on this christmassy collab! It's been a blast and an honour! Penis cookies came up in the discord and thus this idea was born. Enjoy!

Pairing: Geraskier

CW: hurt/comfort, bad childhood memories, but mostly just Christmas fun

On AO3 - Art

_

The holiday season was upon them and the apartment was filled with tinsel and fairy lights, and every other garish decoration that Jaskier could find. He’d had Christmas music playing since November, much to Geralt’s dismay, but if there was one thing that Jaskier loved it was Christmas. This year was even more important too because it was his first holiday season with Geralt in their own place. After years of dating, they had finally taken the leap, and Jaskier couldn’t wait to start making Christmas traditions of their own. Maybe it was coming from a broken home or maybe it was all the cheesy Christmas romances he’d absorbed over the years, but he knew it had to be perfect.

So maybe he’d gone a little overboard with the decorations, but he was excited.

Geralt… not so much.

It didn’t help that Geralt was scheduled to work everyday except Christmas Day itself, and there was very little time for him to get into the Christmas spirit, but Jaskier was doing his best. He’d left a few ornaments for Geralt to hang on the tree, and he always made sure to play Geralt’s favourite Christmas song in the evenings, the real version too, even if Jaskier still believed that his cover was far superior. Chuck Berry was brilliant, but Jaskier was better, and deep down he knew that Geralt really did like his singing, but he was old fashioned at heart. To Geralt there was nothing better than the old favourites.

All in all Jaskier’s grand Christmas extravaganza was coming together. The house smelled like apple and cinnamon, thanks to the infusers, and really it was all starting to look like Santa’s Grotto. There was only one thing left:

Cookies!

When he was a kid, Jaskier had always made cookies with his babysitters around christmas. It was one of the few joys he’d had at Christmas once he’d gotten old enough to realise that opening a pile of presents on his own didn’t mean fuck all. They were lovely and all, but in his adult years, Jaskier was a firm believer that homemade gifts and time spent with loved ones was far superior to cold yet expensive gifts. The cookie cutters had been a stocking present from Santa one year, and every year after that he’d begged his parents to bake with him, but every year the task fell to his babysitters, and then… well… just to him.

But now he had Geralt!

It was a new era of Christmas, and baking. Geralt was due home any minute, and Jaskier was desperate to get at least one batch of cookies in the oven before his boyfriend came through the door. It would just be so fucking domestic to come home to the scent of warm cookies, and then Geralt could help him decorate whilst they got a second batch in the oven. It was going to be perfect.

Or at least… it would be if he could find the fucking cookie cutters. Between not entirely unpacking and all the lights and tinsel, he couldn’t find them anywhere, and Jaskier really didn’t trust his artistic ability enough to draw christmas trees, stars and people.

The only thing he’d ever been good at drawing was cocks.

Much to the chagrin of his university roommate, Valdo had been stuck with penises on his face for days when drunk Jaskier had accidentally picked up a permanent marker instead of a biro.

Jaskier pouted down at the sheet of cookie dough all ready for cutting and baking. Then, before he could change his mind, grabbed a knife from the drawer. Penis cookies would have to do. It wasn’t exactly christmassy, but hey, maybe if Jaskier tied a bow around his own cock, he could persuade Geralt otherwise. He grinned as he began to carve out the shapes into the dough, wiggling his butt as he sang along to Shakin’ Stevens. He missed every other verse, the concentration distracting him from the song, making his tongue flick out from in between his lips. It was a frustrating habit, but at least Geralt said it looked cute.

Eventually he had ten, not entirely uniform cocks ready to bake, and he was rather proud of them. It would be fun to eat at any rate, innuendos galore! They were nearly done baking when Geralt returned. Jaskier didn’t hear the door open, too busy belting out Mariah Carey into his wooden spoon microphone and he almost fell on his ass when he turned round to see Geralt standing in the doorway.

His boyfriend was wearing a black and red Christmas jumper with the words “Bah Humbug” stitched onto the front. It was totally unfair how hot he still looked in an ugly christmas jumper, but perhaps love truly was blind. Jaskier grinned and jumped into Geralt’s arms, wrapping his legs around Geralt’s waist as their lips met in a sugary kiss.

“You’re home,” Jaskier sighed, pressing his forehead against Geralt’s and then laughing at the smear of flour now covering his boyfriend’s cheeks. “Oops!”

“Kitchen looks like a bombs hit it, Jask.”

“Worth it!” Waving off Geralt’s protests, Jaskier wiggled free and ran to the oven, just as the timer started to beep. He swiped up the oven mitts and proudly showed off his creation with a wide smile.

The look on Geralt’s face showed he was less than impressed, one eyebrow raised as he glanced between the tray of misshapen cocks and Jaskier. “Penises aren’t christmassy?”

“Yes they are!”

“Jask-”

“It’s Christmas, there are cookies. They are Christmas cookies, and thus!” Wildly sweeping his hand across the room, Jaskier scooped up a cookie from the tray, wincing as it burned a little in his hands. “Penises are, in fact, christmassy!”

Geralt tilted his head and smirked, arms crossing in front of his chest. “So…” there was something in Geralt’s tone of voice that instantly had Jaskier narrowing his eyes at his boyfriend. “No cocks in summer?”

“Wait what?!”

“Can’t have Christmas things in summer. December only.”

Pulling the cookies away from Geralt’s reach, Jaskier pouted. “You don’t deserve these. You are a horrible boyfriend!”

“You love me,” Geralt chuckled, his fingers brushing Jaskier’s cheek as he stopped him from fleeing, and then Jaskier was pulled into a chaste kiss. It was only natural to melt against his boyfriend’s chest, and the tray nearly went crashing to the ground. Only Geralt’s quick thinking stopped it as he caught the tray one handed, grabbing a tea towel at lightning speed and sliding the tray onto the countertop.

“God, I really do,” Jaskier hummed, his lips barely leaving Geralt’s. “But… you have to make cookies with me.”

Pouting up with perfected puppy eyes at Geralt, Jaskier knew it was only a matter of time before his boyfriend crumbled, and sure enough, Geralt scoffed and rolled his eyes after barely a few seconds.

“Fine.”

“Christmas penis cookies?”

“Yes, fuck… you little shit,” Geralt groaned making Jaskier laugh.

Before long they were both covered in flour, icing and chocolate, curled up together on the sofa with steaming mugs of mulled wine, and a plateful of brightly decorated cocks. Jaskier’s particular favourites were the ones with the shiny sugar balls that looked like piercings, but Geralt preferred his design with the bows. The upbeat rhythm of Chuck Berry’s Run Rudolph Run, echoed through the speakers as Jaskier hummed along through mouthfuls of cock, and even Geralt tapped his foot as they watched the fire crackle in the hearth.

Jaskier sighed, resting his head against Geralt’s shoulder. Maybe next year he should get a set of penis shaped cookie cutters. It could be their first new Christmas tradition.

_

@geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde, @comfyswitcherblanketfort, @fontegagrilledcheese, @dani-dandelino, @dapandapod @damnbert @officerjennie @feraljaskier @geralt-of-riviass @kueble @gilberik @llamasdumpsterfire @wherethewordsare @trickstermoose67 @alllthequeenshorses @skai6 @karolincki

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier pankratz #geralt/jaskier #witcher #geraskier fic #established relationship #wolfie's witcher writing