#geraskier getting together

[patroclusdefencesquad]

why does she put up with them

#because she Loves them #i want to see them get drunk together #also alternatively they could swap lines #the witcher #incorrect witcher quotes #geralt of rivia #yennefer of vengerberg #geraskier #geraskefer #jaskier

[natjennie]

sorry to witcherpost in 2023 but there is something about geralt and jaskier in s1 that is soooooo important to me like. the energy of. you're the only one in the bar who didn't throw things at me. I know the feeling. I want the world to love you. I don't need it to. you could have anyone, and do, why would you come back to me. who could I ever find that would be worth half of you. they think I'm a monster. I've seen you at your most human. I could hurt you. you would never. i need no one and the last thing i want is anyone needing me. and yet here we are. we could run away together find out what pleases us. I can't go with you. everything you do to push me away makes me want to hold you closer. we're on the run from something intangible and it's easier if we run together. I don't want you here. what would you do without me. do you get it?

#theyre soooooo #theyre just men with fake names and performative identities who have seen each other at their most private #their most personal moments. and choose to come back together every time. #do you get it?!??!?!?! #anyway.... #i havent seen s3 yet #but whatever i miss s1 #the witcher #geraskier

[podcastenthusiast]

"Here should be safe to set up camp," Geralt says, scanning the treeline with his eyes in that odd witcher way. Like he's seeing much more than a mere mortal could.

"Thank the gods," sighs Jaskier, who's been really starting to regret skiving off those physical fitness courses at Oxenfurt.

"Get a fire started while I tend to Roach."

"Oh Geralt, I'd love to, I would. Truly it's colder than a sorceress' shapely—"

"Jaskier."

"Well, as they say: you can lead a bard to timber, but you can't make him—"

"Just do it, Jaskier."

"I don't know how! All right? I've never built a fire in the middle of nowhere before! It's not one of the seven liberal arts, and I much prefer my fires stoked by comely barmaids in taverns."

Geralt looks at him for a long moment. It's a complicated look—frustration and amusement and a hint of regret. Mostly it's a look that says Jaskier is an idiot for joining him on the Path.

"Right," Geralt says slowly. He begins building the campfire himself.

"I imagine they teach wilderness survival to baby witchers at witcher school."

Geralt looks at him again and there's something different in his expression. The ghost of a smile? Jaskier doesn't quite know how to read it.

"Kaer Morhen," he says. "And yeah. Something like that."

"Oh?" Jaskier has to rein in his enthusiasm, his curious questions. Geralt so rarely reveals anything personal about himself or his past. Not that Jaskier has been forthcoming in that regard either. They live in the moment, day by day, but some context would help his creative process.

Besides all that, he genuinely wants to get to know Geralt a little better.

"Vesemir took me out into the forest one day. Gave me a knife and left me there for a month."

There is no bitterness in his words. If anything, the witcher sounds...almost fond. Nostalgic. Proud of his younger self for overcoming the challenges his mentors set before him.

It takes a moment for the true meaning of that to sink in and, once it does, Jaskier is horrified. His own parents weren't great, but even they would never simply abandon him.

"He just— like as a test— what—?"

"Real eloquent, bard. I doubt he had any choice. Probably wasn't even supposed to give me anything."

"How old were you?" he demands, unsure if any answer will make this revelation less abhorrent.

"Six? Seven? Maybe eight. I don't know." Geralt makes a gesture with his fingers and the pile of wood beneath his hand sparks with flame. "Not old enough to have learned Igni yet."

He can picture it, too, so vividly. Curse his dammed artist's imagination. Geralt, just a kid, alone and scared and definitely cold—because no one bothered to teach him how to start a fire.

"Stop it," the witcher snaps.

"What?"

"Looking at me like that. I'm fine. I was fine back then. Wasn't so bad at all compared to the Grasses. Vesemir came back for me like he said he would. I survived the trial—no, I didn't just survive; I exceeded all expectations, which is why they..." The witcher trails off. Takes a breath.

All of that... It's quite a lot of words for Geralt. Honest words, even.

It's his job to talk, to sing, to commit the most painful and difficult experiences to beautiful poetic verse. But Jaskier doesn't know what to say to his friend right now. Surely he has to say something.

"Geralt..."

"Don't waste your pity. Save it for the ones who didn't make it through. I did."

"Okay," the bard replies, careful and tentative. He isn't a brave man, nor a particularly kind one. But Jaskier considers himself an honest fellow so he adds, "Just because you made it through, you know, that doesn't mean what happened to you was all right, Geralt. Children aren't supposed to be left alone to fend for themselves."

The witcher laughs—a humorless, wretched sound. He doesn't say anything at all to that. Which is okay, really; Jaskier just needed him to hear it.

There is a long silence. The fire crackles. Jaskier absently strums his lute.

"You're gonna write a ballad about this, aren't you," Geralt says after a while.

"No!" Maybe. Yes. He won't perform it.

"Hm."

The fire crackles.

Quite out of the blue, Geralt tells him, "I befriended a wolf back then."

"What? You're joking!"

"Witchers don't have a sense of humor. Common knowledge."

"Common misconception. Most people are just stupid. No, hang on, stop distracting me—You had a pet wolf?!"

"Not a pet," the witcher corrects, smiling faintly. "Fangtooth was her own wolf."

"Fangtooth?" Jaskier repeats, struggling to contain his amusement. "Not Roach?"

"No."

"Forgive me, but that's adorable."

"I was just a child. I wanted to stay with her in the wilderness. Be a wolf, too. Or a knight." He shakes his head dismissively. Silly childish dreams.

"But you didn't," Jaskier says. And feels stupid for saying something so obvious.

"Too late for that," Geralt replies without reproach. "I was already a witcher."

"As a child, I wanted to run away and join the circus," the bard offers.

"Of course you did."

They're quiet for a moment then. Comfortable, shared silence. Just the sounds of birds and forest creatures, and Roach contentedly eating grass. The fire crackles.

"Geralt, will you teach me to light a fire? Without witcher magic, obviously, since I don't have any."

"Why?"

"Because...well, because I could be a more useful traveling companion. Like Fangtooth must've been."

"...Fine," Geralt agrees after some thought.

It is a skill he will be very grateful to have on freezing nights in the coming years, especially whenever the witcher is too injured or ill from those dreadful potions to help set up camp. He will try not to think of the child Geralt once was, subjected to horrific tests of his ability to survive all on his own.

Except he hadn't been on his own back then, not completely. And he isn't alone anymore, either.

#whisking canons and headcanons together until i get the hurt/comfort i need #this time it's twn jaskier and stuff but some hexer geralt backstory #the witcher #geraskier #jaskier #geralt of rivia #geraskier fic #witcher fanfiction #possibly part of a series where jaskier realizes how fucked up geralt's childhood was

[dapandapod]

Particular with nicknames

Why hello there! This was written last september (2023) and has since been sitting in my draft, making me rewatch streams because no pathetic reasons at all i swear. Anyway, here is Jaskier having a Moment TM when Geralt uses a very specific nickname. Thank you @ahh-fxck for helping me beta read <3 much appreciated! Please enjoy streamer!Geralt and Pathetic!Jaskier! <3 On Ao3 here

For all the love Jaskier has of words and language, he is strangely picky with nicknames.

It’s not that he dislikes them, he is just strangely neutral. Alright, that’s not true.

His famously ill-advised and stormy relationship with Valdo came to mind. Jaskier had fallen promptly out of love with him when he was called ‘Snugglebutt’ in front of all of their friends. They were together for another month or so past that, because Jaskier thought himself cruel and wanted it to work.

Well, it did not.

Nowadays he shares a flat with his long time best friend Geralt, one of the few constants in his life and the one who just might own about two thirds of his heart.

It’s not a big flat, but they have a room each, a small kitchen, and a shared living room. That is also where Geralt has his small streaming corner set up, back against the wall and facing the room.

Easier that way to keep it clean if he streams with the camera on, no accidental flashing unsuspecting viewers that way. Something learned by trial and error, as Jaskier tends to run warm and just forgo pants. And shirts. And socks.

They also share their flat with a terrible little cat named Roach, who has never quite warmed up to Jaskier. Took to Geralt the instant she saw him, however, and the two are inseparable whenever Geralt is home.

All of this in itself is not an issue. Oh no, all of this is more than fine.

Watching Geralt be sweet with the terrible little furball makes Jaskier’s heart ache pleasantly, listen to him coo about her fur being so shiny and smooth, what a good girl she is, wow look at that yawn!

No, the problem came up the first time as Geralt was lazily watching TV on the couch, back to their little kitchen where Jaskier had just served her royal highness some very expensive cat food.

Roach does as she always does when Jaskier is involved, and simply walks out. It’s routine by now, and the food is usually gone by morning. It’s more about Jaskier knowing his place at the bottom of the list than not liking the food.

But as she returns to the living room with Jaskier trailing after, considering plopping down on the couch too instead of working on his doctoral thesis, Jaskier finds himself fundamentally changed.

“Hi baby.” Geralt says, voice all sweet and dark and gravelly, and fuck.

It is very much aimed at Roach, who is being a cutie, begging pets from under the table. But Jaskier’s insides do a kickflip, his brain short circuits.

Flushing deeply, Jaskier can’t control the little HRK sound escaping his throat.

He is frozen in his tracks, tongue tied and feeling absolutely pathetic. Geralt turns around to look at him with a questioning frown.

“You ok there?” he asks, Roach climbing the couch and up to the backrest, demanding attention.

“Just peachy,” Jaskier squeaks out, and then flees to his room.

Holy fucking shit and mother of turds.

Baby?? Of all the nicknames in the entire world, that is the one Jaskier is going to have a meltdown about?

Just, the lazy way Geralt said it, Jaskier feels like an old maid, clutching his pearls.

It’s fine. He will be fine.

It was meant for Roach, of course, it’s fine.

It is not fine.

Geralt is streaming, talking with some other players. He is not a big name, but he does have a following, and sometimes gets invited to other streams if it's a multiplayer game.

Jaskier is moving around the living room, untangling the nest that their couch has become recently, blankets and hoodies and socks thrown everywhere. He is also holding a banana, somewhat forgotten in his new mission to make the couch sittable.

Part of his distraction comes from listening to Geralt talking, there is a lilt to his voice when he is on stream. It is unclear if Geralt is aware of doing it, but Jaskier can listen to it forever.

While in the process of moving one blanket over to the footrest, Geralt laughs at something said in his headphones.

“Oh baby, I didn’t know you cared!”

Jaskier drops the banana.

Feeling like a deer caught in headlight, Jaskier is unable to do anything but staring, feeling heat climbing his neck, up to his cheek.

Then Geralt’s eyes meet his over his screen, his face is neutral but his eyes are knowing.

Fuck fuck fuck he is in so much trouble.

Maybe it’s fine to have that many blankets. Perfect for hiding, perfect for pretending the way Geralt says ‘Baby’ doesn’t go on loop in his head, and will be for days.

Jaskier is in a constant state of fear.

Ever since the Stream Incident, as he has come to call it, there is this new tension whenever they are in a room together. Where Geralt will look at him consideringly, where Jaskier will pretend everything is as per usual.

He has gotten better at not freezing, but a thrill runs through him every time Geralt uses That Word, making very unsubtle eye contact as he does.

How is his poor heart to cope?

Sometimes, late at night, when Jaskier is unable to sleep and he knows Geralt is still streaming, Jaskier joins in to watch. It is uncertain if Geralt has figured out it’s him or not yet, he has sneakily named his account to Bardelicious, and doesn’t usually join the chat.

Tonight, Geralt is playing a fantasy game. A monster hunter and his bard, fittingly enough, and he makes light commentary about things in the game.

Until there is a scene where the bard does something noble, stupid and somewhat foolish.

“Oh, baby.” Geralt says sadly, shaking his head.

The chat goes absolutely wild, more than one asking him to say it again, to call them baby, which is a little weird and also absolutely fucking valid.

“Why are people so weird about that?” Geralt says, chuckling. The replies roll in, and his eyebrows climb up his forehead. Jaskier’s heart is beating hard, because this could either be really good or really bad.

“Sexy? Doubt that.”

Jaskier regrets it as soon as he presses send, and by then it’s too late.

‘It is when you say it.’ was all he wrote, but it was the first thing he had written in there. Geralt doesn’t know it’s him.

It should be fine. He is fine.

Some more responses follow, but Geralt is strangely quiet. The game scene plays out, the monster hunter and his bard having a nice bonding moment.

It’s soothing to watch, to hear Geralt’s commentary every now and then. He falls asleep with his phone in his hand, earbuds still in.

The next morning, Jaskier is woken up by the scent of coffee and a hungry Roach yowling in the kitchen. She only does that when Geralt is around, so it is safe to assume he is up.

Which is a little odd, because Jaskier fell asleep before the stream was over, and he feels like death warmed over.

His jaw cracks when he yawns. Lured by the scent of coffee, he manages to get out of bed.

Geralt is indeed up and about, Roach winding affectionately around his legs as he prepares her breakfast.

“Morn,” Jaskier rasps, scratching his stomach and giving another yawn.

Roach doesn’t even look at him, fully focused on her man and her meal. The bowl is placed on the floor for the queen herself, and like the gremlin she is, she eats it without a fuss. Little bastard.

Jaskier joins Geralt at the bench, seeking coffee like a flower seeks the sun. He can stop when he wants, coffee is not an addiction, it is a way of life.

“Were you up all night? Hand me a cup, will you?” he says, reaching for the fruit bowl that Geralt for some reason keeps religiously stocked.

In reply, he gets one of the typical hums, which could mean absolutely anything, and two cups. Jaskier pours for them both and Geralt adds the usual unholy amount of sugar to Jaskier’s, which makes him smile.

“Any plans for today? I really should be working on my thesis, but I can’t be arsed.”Jaskier leans back against the counter and sips at his coffee, which is still a little too hot.

Geralt is watching him over the rim of his mug, sipping on the steaming coffee.

“I have a thing I thought to try,” he says, voice gravelly, eyes locked on him.

It makes Jaskier’s stomach flip, and he takes a too big sip, the drink burning his tongue and all the way down his throat unpleasantly.

“Yeah? Anything you want help with?” Jaskier asks nervously, realizing he is still holding his chosen fruit without eating it, so he puts it down on the counter.

The corner of Geralt’s mouth ticks up into a crooked smile, and yeah, Jaskier is in danger. It is way too early in the morning for Geralt to be such an absolute heart throb.

“If you are willing.” Geralt says, and Jaskier finds himself nodding despite himself. If Geralt asks him if he is willing, the answer will probably always be yes.

“Sure! Uh… What is it?”

Geralt takes a step towards him and puts his cup on the side of the counter. Then he grabs Jaskier’s cup out of his hand and puts that down too.

His heart is beating so hard he can feel it in his throat, his hands now clammy and gripping the counter behind him.

Geralt inches forward, the space between them shrinking fast. He stops just shy of touching him, and tilts his head, white hair falling over his shoulder.

“So I was streaming last night,” Geralt begins, and oh dear, oh no. “And there were some interesting comments that I couldn’t get out of my head.”

“Uh… Oh?” Jaskier says dumbly, and Geralt huffs a soft laugh, breath hitting Jaskier’s face.

“You're particular with nicknames, right? I mean, you are still mad at Valdo.”

With growing worry, Jaskier is starting to realize where this is going.

“He called me snugglebutt. In front of people. That’s embarrassing!” Jaskier defends himself faintly. Geralt leans in an inch more, leaning against the countertop and crowding Jaskier against it. Fuck.

“But that’s not what you think when I say ‘Baby’, is it?” Geralt’s eyes are trained on him, and smiles when he notices Jaskier’s flustered little sound, the way heat climbs up his cheeks.

In a weak attempt to save face, Jaskier looks down, anywhere but meeting the intensity of Geralt’s gaze.

It has the unfortunate effect of noticing how close they are, how Geralt’s t-shirt rides down just enough to reveal collarbones, how his hands flex against the counter.

“Tell me if I’m reading this wrong, Jaskier,” Geralt mumbles, leaning close enough for his nose to drag against Jaskier’s cheekbone.

Jaskier pulls in a breath, tilting his head in a way he hopes is invitingly.

“You’re not.” Jaskier whispers, and is rewarded with Geralt putting a hand on his hip, letting his nose drag along Jaskier’s neck. “You really, really not.”

“Is it the nickname? You look so startled whenever you hear me say it.” Geralt asks, one finger finding skin under the hem of Jaskier’s t-shirt.

“Just you. Pretty sure you could call me snugglebutt and I’d thank you.” Jaskier confesses, blurts really, when the rest of Geralt’s hand sneaks under his shirt to find his lower back, playing with the soft hairs there.

“Good to know,” Geralt smiles against his skin and Jaskier braves turning his head, their cheeks brushing together.

“Are you going to kiss me anytime soon, or are you gonna let me keep suffering?” Jaskier breathes, his hands finding Geralt’s and tracing them up his arms slowly.

“Hmm,” Geralt says, considering with a cheeky grin, the absolute bastard, so Jaskier takes matters into his own hands. Quite literally.

Geralt’s face is warm, rough stubble and barely visible scars and imperfections brush against his fingers. Geralt must have turned into it, because their lips slide together, coffee and morning breath mingling as Jaskier finds himself now properly pressed against the bench and Geralt’s body.

Then he is being kissed harder, deeper, and Geralt hoists Jaskier up on the counter, using Jaskier’s thighs to pull him closer, closer still, and presses open mouthed kisses against his neck. With a gasp, Jaskier scrambles to find a grip, to get some control of himself, but it is very, very hard to focus.

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me, baby?” Geralt murmurs against his skin, and Jaskier full body shivers. “I can feel you watching me, you are even in my streams.”

“You knew about that?” Jaskier asks breathlessly, stealing a kiss when Geralt shifts to look at him.

“If you wanted to be discreet, maybe you should have chosen something else than ‘Bardelicious’.” Geralt smiles, and Jaskier pouts and pinches his side in revenge.

“Why didn’t you say anything then?”

“Why didn’t you?” Geralt counters, and well, this won’t go anywhere.

“I like listening to you. I like listening to your voice as I go to sleep,” Jaskier says quietly, and Geralt hides his face in the crook of Jaskier's neck.

“Did you get any sleep at all last night?” Jaskier asks when Geralt stays there, melting into his body.

He doesn’t get anything but a muttering grumble in reply, and Jaskier smiles and strokes his hair.

“I need to find a nickname for you too. I refuse to be the only one being absolutely useless as soon as you open your mouth.” Jaskier murmurs into Geralt’s hair.

“Gmmrmgmg.”

“What’s that?”

“I said, ‘like it when you say my name.” Geralt says, and Jaskier is melting all over again.

“Well then, Geralt,” Jaskier purrs. “Let me finish my coffee, and then we’ll take a nap.”

Reaching for coffee without really letting go turns out to be hard, and when Jaskier with some struggle finally gets a hold of his cup, the coffee is still unreasonably hot.

They nap in Jaskier’s bed, both of them crawling in under the blankets and curling up together. Jaskier’s chin resting on top of Geralt’s head, Geralt’s arm slung over Jaskier’s chest.

When Geralt wakes up and press Jaskier into the mattress, it doesn’t take long for Geralt to discover exactly how to fluster Jaskier enough to splutter broken syllables.

It’s alright.

When Jaskier has recovered from being melted goo, he will return the favor.

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt of rivia #geralt x jaskier #jaskier the bard #modern au #gamer!geralt #dapanda writes #getting together #napping #pining #well something anyway #the draft name of this fic 'baby HRK' because yes that is the sound both author and bard made

[spielzeugkaiser]

[MASTERPOST]

And with that I bring you the last thing that was just lying around in my drafts! What are they playing? (I have no idea). Geralt is not tired, not at all, he is fine-

#onlyfans!jaskier #(my beloved) #Jaskier #geralt #geraskier #cancer tw #geralt is like HAVE TO CARE FOR JASK- zzz #that's my thing isn't it #poor guys #I always draw them tired #(also I do feel they can get VERY competitive. they grew up together #in a household of four rowdy boys! If they get into something ... oh boy)

[samstree]

words can wait (until some other day)

Jaskier does not panic when he falls in love. It happens a bit further down the road. (geraskier, 3k, cw: panic attack ☆ AO3)

Jaskier does not panic when he falls in love.

The summer sun blurs his vision when he finds Geralt in a patch of meadow, familiar swords on his back, metal armors reflecting the bright light. He’s whispering to an anxious Roach in that particularly gentle tone, petting her mane patiently. He doesn’t even register Jaskier’s presence for a moment.

And then, there’s the smile. A soft smile tugs at Geralt’s lips when the mare finally calms. It’s reserved and quiet, but Jaskier knows all the world’s joy is contained in that small, warm smile. Roach nuzzles Geralt’s chest, and it grows. Crow’s feet form around soft golden eyes, and Jaskier falls in love right there.

Perhaps he should panic, he thinks, just a little. This is Geralt, his best friend, his companion, the reason for all his songs and the beat of his heart. But only sureness pools in Jaskier’s stomach like warm tea on a rainy day. There is no tightness in his chest, no constricting of breaths.

His love for Geralt brings no harm, only safety.

He is decidedly and unsurprisingly not panicking. It’s Geralt, after all.

So Jaskier calls out for his name and runs right into his arms. Geralt is perplexed by the sudden hug, but he catches Jaskier steadily as always. The smile doesn’t fade when Jaskier pulls away, half amused, half exasperated.

“Jaskier?” The sun is blinding, but all Jaskier can see is the gold in Geralt’s eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Jaskier can only shake his head, his own smile mirrored back, spreading so wide on his cheeks it nearly hurts.

“Nothing,” he answers. “Just… let me hug you. Just a moment longer.”

Geralt allows Jaskier to burrow deep into his embrace again, indulging what looks like a nameless bout of clinginess. They stay there for a while, swaying back and forth, despite the summer heat, despite Jaskier’s foolish heart.

☆

Jaskier does not panic when he realizes his love cannot be returned.

The fall rolls around with a crisp blue sky and a forest of golden leaves. The ground becomes colder, digging into Jaskier’s back when he struggles to fall asleep. Between his dreams, Jaskier counts the crackling of the campfire and the quiet shuffles of Geralt’s movements. A chill creeps into the bedroll, and Jaskier holds his lute closer, shivering and drifting in and out of consciousness.

Somewhere during the night, when the moon is high and the forest is quiet, warmth envelopes Jaskier from behind. He lets out a long sigh, and the shivering stops. He gravitates towards the warmth, angling his body to fit into the source.

He wakes up in Geralt’s arms, head pillowed on his shoulder and their faces a hand’s breadth apart. Both of their cloaks are wrapped around him, tucked under his body carefully. They are not nearly big enough to cover the two of them, so half of Geralt’s body is painfully exposed in the autumn chill, but Jaskier is warm and toasty even to the toes.

He’s breathless from all the love in his chest.

“Hmm?” Geralt mumbles, blinking open his eyes. In the dim morning light, his features are soft and open, all the hardened exterior disappearing when it’s just the two of them, holding each other close on a chilly morning. When he finds Jaskier staring at him, an eyebrow raises in question. “Alright?”

“Yeah,” Jaskier whispers, not wanting to break the moment. “I’m just… very warm.”

Geralt catches Jaskier’s hand under the cloaks in his, only to touch Jaskier’s warm fingers with his cold ones.

“Good,” Geralt says, voice rumbling from sleep. “Humans don’t deal with cold that well.”

Jaskier pauses, looking up at Geralt’s slack face and slow-blinking eyes. It’s rare for a witcher to drift off casually once he’s woken in the morning, but Geralt does nonetheless, in a rare state of lazy contentment. Jaskier stays wide awake.

He loves Geralt, and he knows Geralt cares for him. In his way, Geralt cares so deeply, often to his own detriment. Despite what they say, despite all appearances, Geralt has a deeper capacity for love than anyone Jaskier has known.

Geralt can love deeply, that much he is sure.

It’s just that Jaskier isn’t special. He resides in a small corner of Geralt’s heart, cared for amongst countless humans weaving through a witcher’s long life.

Jaskier settles against Geralt’s shoulder, content. At peace, somehow.

Loving Geralt is enough, even if it’s unrequited, even if he’s alone in his love.

☆

Jaskier also does not panic when he decides to tell Geralt about his love.

It is the winter’s first snow, a soft, fluttering thing that drifts across the grey sky, falling and melting on Roach’s mane silently. The year on the path has officially ended, but Jaskier lingers.

Urged forward by his treacherous heart, Jaskier follows Geralt all the way into Kaedwen. The final fork road stands before them, the last moment before their separation.

Jaskier rambles on, complaining about his frozen fingers in the lecture halls of the university he can only half-heartedly call home—the real one is this. The road, monsters and ballads. Home is Geralt, since he was eighteen.

“I don’t care if Kaer Morhen is an ice castle up in the mountains, Oxenfurt has to be colder! I am not leaving my winter doublets with you again. Help me, Geralt! Check again!”

He wrinkles his nose, digging through Geralt’s pack to find another one of his fur-lined doublets. Their things get mixed up during the year. Jaskier may have sneakily slipped most of them in so he can linger a bit longer without thinking about the giant hole that is going to take up his chest in Geralt’s absence.

“You know you can just not mix them with my things.”

“Hush, dear. Be smart later. We must find the gloves! My fingers cannot be exposed to the cruel winds of winter! It’s the dampness, I tell you—Oh.”

Jaskier touches something soft and squishy at the bottom of Geralt’s pack. He pulls out not gloves, but a small, hand-sewn horse plush.

It’s not the most delicately made, most of the seams lopsided and the dark brown fabric of the horse’s body fixed up with patches old and new. The two buttons are different sizes, but they look rustically charming with a big smile on its face.

“Jask, it’s—um. It’s a…” Geralt, amazingly, is starting to fluster. “It’s nothing. It’s a… horse.”

Jaskier feels like he’s stumbled onto something very intimate.

“So it is.” He looks up, not sure what to do with his hands, so he keeps holding the soft toy carefully. “She looks like Roach.”

“It’s from that girl. Around ten years ago.” Geralt looks away, as if embarrassed by having a cuddly toy in his possession. “Got her out of the manticore nest.”

“I remember. It was a close call. Her parents were worried sick.”

Geralt reaches out as if to touch the little horse, only to pull away last minute. “I checked on her a year later, passed by the village. She had made this.”

“She did?” Jaskier smiles fondly. “I remember she wouldn’t stop crying, so you introduced her to Roach.”

“And you did the voices.”

“It worked wonderfully. She made a friend that day, and went home to make you a friend.” Jaskier waves the horse’s front leg cheekily.

A soft smile tugs at the corners of Geralt’s lips. “Roach is easy to love.”

Jaskier looks down at the small horse plush, the most precious lopsided toy in the world. It’s like he’s holding Geralt’s heart between his hands. Handle with care, he reminds himself. A witcher’s heart breaks easily.

So he puts the horse gently in Geralt’s hand, giving it a little squeeze. Geralt rubs its ears on instinct, a subtle motion that seems to soothe himself.

“She really is,” Jaskier whispers reverently, not sure who he’s talking about.

There Geralt is, holding a small gift from a decade ago, a tangible proof that he was once appreciated, remembered, loved. It’s a good sight. Geralt deserves to know when he is loved.

Jaskier’s breath catches when he meets Geralt’s gaze for a moment too long, nearly struck dumb by the split-second decision he just made.

Geralt deserves to know.

Too few love him. If one does, one should declare it loudly.

His chest is warm with calmness, a quiet acceptance of his unrequited love. It will be okay. Even though Jaskier will not be loved in the same way, it will be worth it.

They finish finding Jaskier’s things and bid goodbye, the plush toy sitting in Geralt’s pack safely. When Jaskier walks away, he looks back with every other step, heart full of tenderness. He cannot say it yet. It will be the most important thing he does in this life. A poet should be granted enough time before proclaiming his love. He should be allowed the dramatics, at least.

“Wait,” Geralt calls out.

“Hmm?”

Jaskier turns around, thoughts lost in planning the day already. Flowers. He should pick flowers—Geralt loves them, even though he never shows it. Also those candied fruits he likes. Good food is always a nice opening for serious words—

“Jaskier, just… wait for a moment.” The flustering is back when Geralt catches up with a few long strides. “You don’t need to go.”

Jaskier frowns. “But I do? It’s well into winter already. I can’t make it to Oxenfurt once the snow sets in—”

“Don’t go to Oxenfurt,” Geralt interrupts. “Come to Kaer Morhen. With me.”

Snow melts on Jaskier’s lashes, blurring his vision.

“Really?” His heart hammers, the thrumming beats revealing too much. “You’d want me there?”

Geralt only takes his hand, thumb rubbing gentle circles on Jaskier’s wrist, an anchor to calm all the butterflies in his stomach.

“Must you ask?” he says softly. “You know the answer.”

When Jaskier takes Geralt’s hand in return, the familiar warmth enveloping him, he realizes that he does. He learned the answers to all things Geralt a long time ago.

☆

The mountains are slow to accept spring’s arrival, sitting far above the rest of the world, but it waltzes in gracefully anyway. Snow seeps into the ground, bringing back the first sprouts of life. Kaer Morhen stands too close to the sky. Colors return to the crumbling keep, stirring their quiet life with restlessness.

It’s the last day before they set out for another year’s journey. Jaskier relishes his last moments in the keep, sitting cross-legged on Geralt’s bed with the lute in his lap, strumming an absent tune. It’s also become his bed since the dark days near solstice. My room is warmer, Geralt insisted at the time, with more sunlight. It’s only practical.

Jaskier isn’t sure how he’ll cope once they leave the keep, without Geralt’s presence grounding him at night. It’s trouble for the future him, he reckons. For now, Geralt is padding across the room quietly to join him, lying down on the pillow next to Jaskier’s thigh.

His fingers stop for a moment to brush the loose strands away from Geralt’s face. His witcher grumbles sleepily, eyes closed, snuggling against Jaskier while slowly drifting off into a nap.

The lute is soon left on the ground. Jaskier curls up under the cover and falls asleep too.

When they wake up, it is to the setting sun hanging above the horizon, casting long shadows through the window. Geralt stirs, only to bury his face in Jaskier’s neck, the tangles of his hair tickling Jaskier’s skin. They fall into a mess of giggles, and Jaskier pretends to push him away.

The orange-gold sunlight lines Geralt’s silver locks beautifully, golden eyes meeting blue in quiet contentment. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Jaskier answers.

This is the moment.

All dramatics are forgotten, all poetry set aside. It’s just him, giving away his heart at the right time, asking nothing for himself.

“Geralt, dear, I—” Jaskier breathes steadily. “I love you.”

It’ll be alright. It’s only Geralt, who deserves the world and more. Jaskier is only a simple bard with his lute and silly songs, hoping all of himself is enough. Geralt knowing he is loved is worth ten times the heartache of Jaskier not being loved in return.

“Oh.”

“Don’t say anything.” Jaskier’s voice is still relaxed with sleep, so he leans in close, the exchange barely above an intimate whisper. “I know you don’t feel the same, but I do. Love you, that is. I love you, and you deserve to know. You are loved, without condition or a price, for as long as I live.”

“Jaskier…” Geralt nearly sounds pained. He shouldn’t be, not when he’s loved.

“It’s alright,” Jaskier says. “You don’t owe me anything. I understand. All I ask is a place by your side so I may walk with you, as we have done before. I never want you to feel guilty for not returning my feelings.”

“But I do.”

Jaskier blinks, only now realizing his vision is getting blurry. Geralt watches him, eyes full of joy and sincerity.

“You—what?”

Suddenly, Jaskier’s throat is very tight, his breath shuddering. The panic that has been kept at bay makes a strange appearance from deep inside his lungs.

“I love you too,” Geralt says, holding Jaskier’s shoulder, keeping him close. “I thought you knew. I thought you could tell. Jaskier, I—”

The thundering of his heart is all Jaskier can hear. The room is too small and the air too thin. With all the time he’s spent preparing himself for the eventual rejection, he’s never dared to imagine the other possibility.

Geralt loves him.

Oh.

Jaskier’s chest seizes as anxiety takes hold, his words stumbling over each other and his vision tunneling.

“Forgive me—” Head spinning, Jaskier just wants to get out of this room, away from Geralt’s worried expression and the warmth of his hands. “I wasn’t expecting… I just need a moment. It’s all very sudden, I…”

“Hey, Jask, slow down. You are hyperventilating.” Geralt, as if he needs to get more lovely just to torment Jaskier’s delicate heart, notices his panic and reacts immediately. “Just try to breathe. It’s alright. Just breathe. I’m right here…”

Geralt tries to pull Jaskier into an embrace, an old trick to calm him, but it’s all too much. Jaskier needs to get out of the room.

He mumbles another apology, limbs tangling with the sheets as he scrambles out of bed. Geralt calls for him through a fog of confusion and worry, but Jaskier is gone from the room, half stumbling and half running.

☆

Jaskier is most assuredly panicking right now.

He wanders aimlessly in the keep, trying and failing to catch his breath, only instincts guiding him to a place of comfort. He pushes open the door into the small but well-kept winter garden in the corner of the backyard, the pressure on his breastbone finally letting up in the crisp mountain air. He breathes in the mixture of plants and dirt and leans against the cold wall, sliding down with all his energy sapped.

Geralt loves him back.

Jaskier turns over those words in his head slowly, easing into the idea.

It’s a good thing. As the panic eases from his mind, his senses return slowly. It hits him just how ridiculous he looks, running away from the man he loves, simply because he was loved in return.

There’s dirt on his bare feet, and Jaskier hugs his knees close. He takes in a deep breath, and then another. Slowly, painstakingly, the panic subsides. He’s not sure how much time has passed, but clarity returns eventually, and he rests his head against the wall with relief.

“Jaskier.”

The door creaks open, and there Geralt is, holding a large blanket and looking awkwardly unsure.

“I’m fine,” Jaskier answers, voice still tight.

Geralt all but softens. He sits down next to Jaskier but doesn’t touch, only holding out the blanket. “May I?”

Receiving a nod, Geralt wraps the blanket around Jaskier’s thin shirt, careful not to invade his space. Jaskier almost feels like a dam breaking when he throws himself into Geralt’s arms, burrowing under his chin. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs.

“Shh. Don’t be.” Geralt rocks him back and forth, a hand running down Jaskier’s arm. “Want to tell me what happened?”

“I panicked,” Jaskier sniffs.

Geralt chuckles quietly. “I could tell. But why? I thought the conversation was going somewhere… well, somewhere good?”

Jaskier lifts his head but lets Geralt hold him close, soothing his nerves patiently.

“It was going somewhere incredibly good,” he admits. “Too good, perhaps. I wasn’t ready for it.”

“Hmm.” Geralt tilts his head, observing him.

Jaskier hides away from Geralt’s knowing gaze. “You must think it was stupid. To be fair, I was. Who would have a full-on panic attack because the love of their life actually loves them back?” He lets out a self-deprecating huff. “I had accepted it, that I was alone in my longing, and that nothing would change after my confession. But now… things will change, and it was suddenly too real.”

“It wasn’t the confession that gave you panic. It was knowing that I loved you.” Something in Geralt’s expression crumbles, guilt and shame creeping up on his brow. “All these years, I thought you knew. I’m not good with words, so I tried to show you, instead.”

“Oh.”

Jaskier blinks, thinking back on every detail of their companionship in a new light—the quiet protectiveness, the trust, the care. The answer pieces together like puzzles falling into place, a clear picture forming in his mind.

Geralt, always putting Jaskier before himself.

Geralt, smiling and laughing because of Jaskier, and making Jaskier smile and laugh in return.

Geralt, inviting Jaskier to his home.

The only conclusion—

“You love me. You have loved me all this time.”

Geralt smiles. “And you love me.”

Jaskier’s heart picks up its pace for an entirely different reason this time. “That’s… wonderful.” He’s smiling so hard it makes him giddy. “Whatever shall we do now?”

“Now? Anything, I suppose. Everything, or nothing at all.” Geralt turns to kiss Jaskier on the temple, making his cheeks heat up rather embarrassingly. “We’ll figure it out tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” Jaskier echoes. “For now, we don’t need words yet.”

Another year begins tomorrow, the seasons passing by as they walk the path.

But for now, they stay in the little corner of a keep that stands too close to the sky. For now, they don’t need words yet.

#geraskier #geraskier fic #getting together #fluff #panic attack #can you tell all i'm thinking right now is making a horse plushie

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt #2

There is not NEARLY enough Rapunzel AU fanfics. I'm thinking of mighty witcher Geralt coming across a lone, tall, moss, ivy, and lavender covered tower out in the woods, and being surprised to find a young man imprisoned there. I love the idea that instead of paintings like Disney's Rapunzel used to fill up her time and tower, that instead he sings and makes songs, so there's like.. Lyrics and sheet music scribbled onto the walls.

♡!Optional addons!♡ • Geralt is tracking down an evil infamous mage, of whom turns out to be the captor of this gorgeous musician he found

• Jaskier has blonde hair until it's cut like in Tangled, to call back to his Dandelion roots (hah.. Roots... Like hair... and dandelions..) • We could go the Disney's Tangled route and have there be a lost Prince Julian that Jaskier just so happens to resemble (and secretly is)

• Perhaps Jaskier is physically bound there by magic or chains, Or perhaps he's there out of nothing more than guilt, shame, and/or fear toward the person keeping him there • Perhaps Jaskier is a painter in this universe, and above all, wants to see real buttercups, dandelions, etc, out in the wild, for they don't grow near his tower, and the best he can get is his own paintings of their descriptions in books.

• Maybe if we feel more adventurous, Jaskier could be part harpy, kept in a mage's tower in a birdcage, kept for his magical hair activated by his magical singing (Ooh, this gives me more bird jaskier ideas.. You might see those soon)

• Or perhaps, after Blaviken, a witcher is sealed away in a tower, only for some dumbass (affectionate) struggling bard to stroll across and think it a perfect shelter from the oncoming rain.

#fanfiction prompts #geralt x dandelion #geralt x jaskier #geraskier #witcher fanfiction #fanfic prompt #writing ideas #writing prompts #story prompts #the witcher #strangers to lovers #strangers to friends to lovers #strangers to friends #friends to lovers #getting together #rapunzel #tangled #rapunzel au #tangled au #fairy tales #fairytale au #alternate universe #au idea

[annmarcus63]

"Those guys were a bunch of rockheaded jerks."

"Yeah" Geralt agrees with a soft laugh.

"Can you believe them? they're shit at Gwent and I wasn't even cheating"

"Mmm-hmm"

"I swear. You wound me, darling, I'm a hone-"

"Show me your sleeves then.”

"Ha, yeah, no, you only want to undress me."

"Sure." says Geralt with a hint of a smile. Knowing full well that Jaskier was in fact cheating at Gwent.

"They thought we were together. Homophobic morons."

"Yeah"

"But we're not."

"Yeah"

Jaskier laughs nervously.

"Yeah, but the kiss sold it, really." Geralt doesn't say anything.

"What was the kiss for, darling." Geralt growls and march forward with Roach.

Jaskier laughs and trots after him.

"You're an excellent kisser, I must say. I didn't know you have such a long tongue."

"SHUT UP, JASKIER"

"I think we should rehearse it for next time."

"There will not be a next time." if witchers could blush Jaskier would find red dots on Geralt cheeks.

"You even nipped my lip; I really really like it."  

Geralt wants to crawl under earth but he knows Jaskier would follow him there too.

#geraskier #and that's how they end up together #geralt of rivia #geralt x jaskier #joey batey #jaskier #the witcher #someone would ask oh #geralt how you tow end up together #and he'd say #i don't know #just think it'd be funny to kiss him in front of a bunch of homophofic morons #Geralt guide of how to get a boyfriend #jaskier x geralt

[oh-surprise-its-me]

I wanna watch Geralt and Jaskier in a 18 hour long romance movie where they get together half way through and the last 9 hours is just them speed running all the fan fic au’s

#the witcher #geralt of rivera #jaskier #geraskier #geralt x dandelion #geralt x jaskier #they get together 9 hours in because I need a slow burn #I want at least two hours dedicated to a hockey au and a mob au

[smolalienbee]

1x05 except Geralt and Jaskier are already married by the time they meet Yennefer // 226 words of some crack-y nonsense

“Jaskier. Is she flirting with me?”

“Is she - Geralt, are you really asking that?”

Geralt doesn’t respond at first. He turns to look at Jaskier, brows furrowed. Of course he’s asking that - there’s no good reason why Jaskier would still need clarification - except Jaskier continues to just look at him, as though waiting for him to say something.

“We’re married,” Geralt elaborates slowly. “Why would she flirt with me if she knows I’m married to you?”

“You - if she - you think she knows?”

“Yes.”

“Geralt, are you forgetting the part where she quite literally asked you if I was just your friend? To which you responded with… oh, what was it? Right, nothing. You never did respond to that question. And this entire time you’ve really thought that she knows?”

“Hm.”

“Oh, don’t you dare just hm this, husband mine, your absolute lack of words is how we’ve ended up in this situation in the first place! And no, don’t give me that look, either, you know very well I couldn’t have said anything while I was still choking on my own blood.”

A third voice joins them then and they both look over at where Yennefer stands, right in front of them. In fact, she has been standing there for the entire duration of their conversation.

“...You two do realize that I’m still here, right?”

#smolalienbeewrites #geraskier #twn #geraskefer #witcher #jaskier x geralt #geralt x jaskier #married!geraskier #the witcher #witcher netflix #geralt of rivia #jaskier the bard #i keep trying to rewatch twn #and keep getting new ideas in the middle of it #today's was just 'okay but wouldnt it be hilarious if the reason why geralt #went all scrunkly face when yen asked about them being friends #is because they're already together or even better MARRIED' #but like obvs he doesnt say shit #so then this happens #this is literally just nonsense #i metaphorically wrote it on a restaurant napkin #so like enjoy ig #or i dont! i cant tell u how to live ur life

[kingthunder]

trying to nail the characterization i like for geralt and jaskier is like trying to balance on one of these bitches

#look i just want geralt to be a little mean but also soft but also he's a jerk but he's not trying to be? #it's just that he's emotionally illiterate #like he's not NICE but he's KIND do you know what I'm saying #and i want jaskier to have a thick streak of self worth hidden under all that peacocking #like sure he can be insecure but also like #this is the guy who marched unabashedly up to the scariest man alive and was like ✨heey~✨ #this is the guy who got dumped and screamed his breakup song to the whole continent #and he's not nice either he's annoying and sometimes inconsiderate #but he's ALSO KIND #and he and geralt share the same terrible sense of humor #and they don't fit together seamlessly but they DO fit together #they make each other happy on a fundamental level that they don't get with anyone else #anyway #if anyone knows where i can READ a fic like this let me know #witcher #geraskier #let them be spicy but still good for each other

[podcastenthusiast]

I read an article about Geralt's chronic pain in book canon, then I remembered Dr. Joachim von Gratz in Witcher 3 saying he could tell Geralt broke his leg at some point. So I took all that and ran with it for this.

---

Geralt is in pain.

It's an odd phrase, he thinks as he trudges up the stairs to their room. Like pain is a physical place he could escape if he only knew how.

Vesemir had taught them long ago that pain is simply information. Its message should be acknowledged and the rest discarded as useless sensation. A witcher who can't handle pain is a dead witcher, after all; they were forged in agony.

Geralt can never figure out what all of the pain wants him to know, if anything. Why it flares up like this. It's just outdated information.

They're staying at an inn tonight. What used to be a rare luxury on the Path has become commonplace, at least in Jaskier's company. Good thing, too; an unrelenting spring rainstorm is raging outside. Thunder rumbles a mile away and he can taste electricity in the air, not unlike the pain that zaps through his leg with each step.

Jaskier had called for the tub in their room to be filled, thankfully. Geralt casts Igni on the water until it's almost too hot even for a witcher, and sinks into the bath with a relieved sigh. Warmth dulls the pain somewhat, like a blunted blade beneath his skin, but it's still there.

He eventually must leave the bath, however. Getting himself dressed somehow saps away the last of his energy, and Geralt deposits his aching body onto the bed after, letting his mind drift as much as it can. Jaskier is hovering in his periphery. He's talking, as ever, envigorated by an adoring audience, eyes a little wine-bright. Try as he might, Geralt can't focus on his words. There's a cacophony of sounds around him—rain and Jaskier's heartbeat and drunken revelry downstairs and animals in the forest just beyond the village. But eclipsing it all is the pain.

Years of experience and witcher training allows him to bear it without letting the weakness show. He can live with pain, like he lives with the foul taste of potions and their aftereffects, with teleportation sickness and wearing scratchy doublets to formal occasions. With human cruelty. The blood on his hands.

"Geralt, have you been listening at all?"

"Hm."

"Right. You're not even here right now, I see."

"Hmm."

He isn't here. He's not in this room or even this country; he is in pain.

"Move over, then. You're taking up the entire bed and I'm knackered."

Geralt does move. It nearly steals the breath from his lungs. He curls in on himself, instinctively, as if the pain weren't coming from within.

"Something is wrong. What is it?"

Jaskier sounds serious now. Geralt doesn't want to ruin his evening.

"Nothing. I'm fine."

"Geralt—"

"I said I'm fine. Leave it, Jaskier!"

He stands up then as if to prove it, but his treacherous knee refuses to cooperate with the simplest command and buckles under his weight. The pain, which had briefly lodged itself near his hip, suddenly radiates sharply down his leg in nauseating waves. He curses.

"You're hurt, aren't you. I thought I saw you favoring one leg earlier. Was it the griffin? Geralt, you have to tell me these things—"

"No," he grits out. "I'm not injured."

"And I'm not stupid, you know. You can barely walk! Clearly—"

"Old wounds. Just...still troubles me sometimes. All right? Nothing to worry about."

There is a long, uncharacteristic silence following his confession. Geralt fears he may have finally broken him.

"Well," the bard says at last, "You're a fool if you think that will stop me worrying about you."

"I can manage." His arm doesn't hurt much tonight, at least, and he gets to sleep in a real bed. Small mercies.

"Oh, I've no doubt of that, certainly. You're the most stubborn man I've ever known. I also know you rarely permit yourself even the slightest modicum of comfort."

"Jaskier..."

"Does anything help when it gets bad?"

"Potions. Meditation." Jaskier looks hopeful at this, and he feels a little guilty for having to crush those hopes so soon when he adds, "But not this time. I don't have enough potions to waste them like that."

"Meditation, then? I can be as quiet as you need, contrary to popular belief."

"Hurts too much," Geralt admits. Then, maybe to ease Jaskier's concern, he says, "The bath helped a little."

"Good, that's a start. Now, I know what works for me might not work for you, but I've a few remedies. Will you let me try to help?"

"Didn't know you were a priestess of Melitele," he grumbles.

"Sadly the temple refused to accept me for study, can't imagine why, so I had to become a bard instead," he quips.

"I thought you were tired."

Jaskier ignores this comment. He can hear the bard rummaging around in his bag.

"Where is it. This salve saved my life when I was a student at Oxenfurt. They had us practicing the lute for hours and hours; I thought my hands would fall off. My wrists still hurt sometimes. Then there was the— Ah! There. Geralt? Still with me?"

"Yes. What?"

"Normally I prefer to say this under much more pleasant circumstances, but: trousers off, if you please."

He groans. Doesn't Jaskier understand how much work it was to get them on?

It's a slow process, mostly because he refuses any help with it.

"Oh, Geralt," he says softly. The bard touches his knee, gentle as a summer breeze. "It does look swollen here."

In truth, he's strangely glad of that. It's much worse somehow when it hurts and yet appears perfectly normal.

"Are you allergic to any herbs? This has got, uh, let's see. Chamomile, willow bark, ginger, essential oil of—"

"I drink poison on a regular basis, Jaskier. Apply the damn salve already."

He does. Geralt closes his eyes. He isn't sure any simple salve will even be enough to touch the pain, but the way Jaskier massages his leg seems to ease a bit of the tension coiled in his muscles, if nothing else. After a while he starts to relax. He listens to the rain. He breathes.

"'M sorry I snapped at you earlier," Geralt murmurs into the pillow. "Wasn't fair."

"It wasn't. But you're already forgiven. Feeling any better?"

Geralt shrugs, because while it is becoming background noise again, he's still in pain. Pretty much always is. No amount of soft touches or herbs or magic can fix that completely.

Being here in pain with Jaskier, though, is better than being alone.

#the witcher #the witcher netflix #geraskier #jaskier #geralt of rivia #geraskier fic #witcher fanfiction #whisking canons and headcanons together until i get the hurt/comfort i need #geralt is disabled and ace and probably neurodivergent 'cause i say so #i have too many fics now. i should post them to ao3

[dapandapod]

Good morning panda brain!

So!

Jaskier helps Geralt through his bisexual awakening.

Geralt knew people can like both. Triss and yen are know to take lovers from any gender and he has never thought twice about it.

Until he realizes Jaskier does too.

And Geralt tries to work through it by himself, mulling it over, trying to figure out if it is *just* the bard he is attracted to, or other men too?

But he finds he get confused and frustrated because it is hard to identify feelings, even more so if they are his own? So one day/eve/ something he asks Jask for help, because he is the safest one he knows to ask.

(There might also be a hint of self sabotaging afoot but he doesn’t realize that)

“How do you know?”

“Know what?”

“If you like both?”

And then Jaskier asks a series of questions (he makes sure Geralt is alright or if he doesn’t have an awnser/want to say it, that Geralt doesn’t have to say but he should think about it) about what makes Geralt notice a person, draws him in.

In the end they say something in the lines of;

“It is fine to experiment. Just try not to do that with the subject of your affection.” And then after a while “I could help you..”

And before Geralt thinks of what the fuck he is saying, he blurts out something like;

“I was told not to experiment with the subject of my affection” something something.

And Jaskier goes all 😳😳😳 because ofc he hoped and dreamed and he too helped out in some self sacrificing thing in hope to make Geralt happy, even if it was with someone else, and now he gets this??

And then begins the circling around each other, because it would hurt if Geralt tried these feelings with someone else (and with the risk of him falling for that person) while being *told* he is the reason for this bisexual crisis/awakening.

But also it would hurt even more if they tried, if Jaskier opens that door and allows himself some room to feel all those suppressed feelings - but as an experiment, one that Geralt might find that no, he doesn’t feel that way, thanks for helping out - and closing the door again.

Buuut all goes as it usually does with Geralt - maybe they part for winter, Geralt on the way there thinks about every man he ever found hot, and maybe it is not many, but enough to feel like yeah, there is something there.

And then he spends the entire winter fantasizing about his bard, how it would feel to woo him, and finds that he likes it.

Come spring, maybe they re unite but there is something tense now between them, the fine line of pretending Geralt didn’t say he might fancy the bard, just to be able to keep going without throwing themselves at each other.

The bard never said anything back after all.

An out, if Geralt decides he doesn’t feel that way.

But then Geralt starts to try it out. Reaching for Jask’s hand, touching him more, smiling, maybe even flirting.

And eventually Jask has to ask, has to check that this is not an experiment, because Jaskier’s heart won’t be able to take it.

And Geralt sits quietly for a while, starting at the flames. Maybe they are in a room or maybe they are in the forest, but he sits quietly to think, and it is so very hard to bear.

And maybe Geralt decides that

“I may be inexperienced with this, and even if I have found I find other men attractive, it is towards you I am drawn. So if you would let me, I would try to make you think of only me, too” or something.

And he hopes Jaskier doesn’t mind inexperienced lovers, well. Geralt has been with people before, but he haven’t… loved them.

And he tells Jaskier that, he will make mistakes yes, but he is trying to learn, and he hopes, but if Jask wants nothing of it, he will stop. Clarifying stop trying to woo jask, not stopping to feel that way, about him and about men.

And maybe Jaskier needs to think about it.

Eventually Jaskier says that, he knows what it is like to have his heart broken. Expressing love is easy for him yes, but loving? *Loving* is hard. And it hurts like hell.

So he begs Geralt, begs him to take care. Because if they try this, there might be no going back. No place to return to, should this fail. He can’t guarantee he can heal should Geralt break his heart.

And they go forward with glacial speed, working to change the foundation, gently building trust and affection. They are apart for big stretches of the year, but reunifying has them growing closer.

Very little changes, but Jaskier notice how Geralt is looking at him. Keeps looking at him. Keeps reaching for him.

And eventually, when Jaskier dares believe this is not a passing thing, he reaches back.

They find themselves sleeping closer on purpose. They start wintering together, properly, and find themselves always in each other’s orbit.

They are in every sense a couple, but the physical one. And even if Geralt is the inexperienced one, he lets Jaskier set the pace.

And the bard works himself up to it. Hand holding becomes kisses on the hand. Kisses on the hand becomes kisses in the cheek. And one day, just after lunch at Corvo Bianco, Jaskier kisses him on the cheek, but remains close.

Geralt lets him, waiting and watching, until Jaskier presses a peck to his lips too. And then another one. And then before dinner, the dams are broken, and the peck turns into a kiss, a proper, lingering, earth shattering kiss.

And Geralt, the absolute ass, is murmuring against Jaskier’s lips, even as he is pressing Jaskier against the table, even as they are smiling and kisses, he says

“Have you been experimenting with the subject of your affection?”

“It seems that I am.”

“Some would deem that unwise.” Geralt says, kissing jask again. “What is your conclusion?”

It is a question in jest, he knows, but Jaskier studies Geralt’s face, holds his face with both hands as they become serious.

“That I love you.”

Which … has been a terrifying thought. Up til now, it has been the most frightening thing to carry.

But now? Now they are in each other’s arms, now they are on equal footing. Now it means the same thing for them both.

#6am panda brain strikes again #all I wanted was Geralt’s bisexual awakening and Jaskier helping him #and smooching #yet here we are #geraskier #the witcher #getting together #friends to lovers #floof #dapanda writes #geralt of rivia #jaskier #geralt x jaskier #jaskier the bard #julian alfred pankratz

[samstree]

moonlight and love songs (never out of date)    

After discovering Geralt has never been courted before, Jaskier tries to fix the situation. (4.1k ☆ also on AO3)

“It’s unacceptable!”

“Jaskier…”

“But it is! Everyone should be courted once in a while, given flowers, taken on dates and everything. Doted on. The doting is quite important. It’s a full experience! An integral part of the human experience, I might add. You, of all people, shouldn’t be left out.”

Jaskier keeps on chewing his food, his chin bulging like a grumpy squirrel. If it weren’t for the tight frown on his face, he almost looks adorable like this.

Geralt simply picks at the carrots in his bowl, trying to push them to one side. The kitchen must have forgotten again. “As you said. Human experience.” He shrugs.

The squawk Jaskier lets out is so sharp it draws attention from the table next to them.

“You know perfectly well what I meant! You being a witcher has nothing to do with it!”

“Why are you so worked up anyway? So what I’ve never been…wooed?” Geralt sighs. “It just never happened. I don’t even care.”

Jaskier’s frown becomes a pout. Something shifts in his eyes as he continues staring at Geralt, his food ignored. He has that look again, like he’s seeing right through Geralt.

Geralt recognizes that look.

So he looks down to avoid it. He always avoids that look.

The tavern is loud enough during the rush hours, with all the students coming from their classes. A couple is sitting at the table next to them—they must be new lovers. They haven’t been able to keep their hands off of each other for the whole evening.

Oxenfurt is like this in the fall. The first breeze of cold air brings new students, and with them, new love. It’s very inconvenient that Geralt only stays here during the fall. He cannot escape the smell of lust and love anywhere.

Geralt glances at the couple, just for a moment.

“It’s unfair, is all,” Jaskier says, finally. He looks at the table next to them, and back at Geralt, his eyes softened. “You’ve been alive for too long to have never been courted, my friend. You had more lovers than I could count. Beautiful lovers, powerful lovers, sorceresses and queens alike.”

“Queen,” Geralt corrects. “Just the one”.

“Yes, yes, no need to keep bragging, but…” Jaskier trails off. “Did they never do things like this for you? Not even flowers?”

There is a small bouquet on the next table, resting next to the lovers’ linked hands.

“They knew what they wanted, and so did I,” Geralt answers. “It’d be a pointless dance.”

“Oh. Well, I suppose it makes sense, in a sad way. Except, no, it doesn’t. It’s not pointless. Courting is about—it’s about getting to know each other. It’s a marvelous dance, actually. It’s about being cared for. It’s about laying down all your defenses, showing your heart and knowing the other person will show theirs in return.” Jaskier worries his bottom lip. “I miss it now. Teaching is good, but I’ve scarcely had time to meet anyone who isn’t a student or a professor. I miss that…spark, you know? That fluttering of your stomach, the nervousness, the thrill, all of it. It’s a shame you’ve never known it, and I’ve also nearly forgotten what it’s like.”

A pang of loss hits Geralt, but before he can speak, Jaskier looks up suddenly, his eyes shining with mischief.

Geralt recognizes this look too. It means Jaskier is about to have the worst idea. “No,” so he says preemptively. “Jaskier, no.”

“I just had the best idea!” Jaskier proclaims. “I shall be the one to court you!”

“Jaskier…”

“Hear me out, it’d be good for both of us!” Jaskier squirms in his seat, giddy and eager. “What is a date or two between friends? I’ll get to stretch my romantic muscles, and you’ll finally get the whole package!”

Geralt knows he’ll regret asking, but he does. “Package?”

“The Jaskier package, of course!” Jaskier stretches his arms, his grin bright as day. “The charms of the most famous lover. It’s the reason the world falls for me, darling, don’t you know? You must have seen a trick or two, being with me for so long. It’s a complete package! You should fully prepare yourself for it. Bathe on the day and everything!”

Jaskier looks like an excited puppy, sans a wagging tail.

Geralt is about to say no again. “It’s not that—”

“Please?” Jaskier’s voice quiets. “I just…I want to do this for you. The fall will end soon, and you’ll be leaving for home in no time. I’ll miss you terribly until next spring. This way, I can show you a good time before you go. Oxenfurt is too beautiful in the fall to pass up the chance. It’d be a real shame. Please, Geralt, do it for me?”

Do it for me.

Jaskier thinks Geralt will do anything as long as he asks in that soft tone of his. It’s a tragedy how true that is.

“Damn you,” Geralt finds himself saying. “Fine, then.”

The smile on Jaskier’s face is a sweet, private thing, one that is reserved for few in the world. Geralt’s slow witcher heart flutters for a beat, but he can’t even bring himself to regret anything.

“Good.” Jaskier rubs his hands. “It’s a date!”

The maid brings their desserts, and as usual, Jaskier splits his and puts half on Geralt’s plate. He devours the other half of the sweet pastry and waits for Geralt to finish his extra share.

☆

Geralt adjusts the collar of his tunic, trying to smooth down the creases. It’s an old shirt, the fabric worn and faded, but it will have to make do.

The date is tonight.

“Fuck.”

The buttons are too tight around his neck, but it’s the only way he can look something resembling decent, and he wants to look decent for Jaskier.

Against his better judgment, no less. Geralt is taking this way too seriously. It’s only a date. He’s lived a century and watched humans perform this particular ritual for just as long. It’s nothing new. His stomach shouldn’t be tumbling with anticipation like this. He’s not even being courted for real.

And yet.

The shirt stretches uncomfortably when Geralt observes himself in the mirror. It’s not a bad look; he even put time into braiding his hair into a half updo.

Geralt tugs at the hem one last time when a knock comes from the door.

Finally. For someone who’s been teasing about tonight, Jaskier is surprisingly absent for the whole day, but when the door opens, it’s only a page boy.

“Sir witcher,” he says, “you have a gentleman caller.”

Confused, Geralt follows the boy through the hallway and down the stairs. He makes another turn, and lets out a quiet oh.

There Jaskier is, standing at the bottom of the stairs, his body turned away. The setting sun casts a soft hue on his hair, lining his silhouette with gold. His doublet is a plain one, the design simple and reserved. An earring dangles from his left ear, catching a spark in the sun. It’s a simple tear-shaped pearl.

Years ago, Geralt found a pearl at the coast and gave it to Jaskier as a simple gift. He assumed Jaskier had played with it and eventually exchanged it for money.

Geralt has to catch his breath for a moment, his hand resting on the rail.

The floor creaks when he takes another step, and Jaskier turns around. His eyes cast upward to find Geralt, and suddenly the sunset dims in comparison.

Geralt descends the stairs like this, while Jaskier watches in awe. He should feel uncomfortable being observed like this, with full attention, scrutinized, even. But not with Jaskier.

Jaskier only sees him.

“Oh my,” Jaskier breathes, “you look lovely today.”

He reaches out when Geralt stands on the last step, and catches Geralt’s hand. With the height difference between them, Jaskier presses a kiss on the back of his fingers.

“Um…” Geralt says, intelligently, “thank you?”

Jaskier chuckles. “You do. I love the way you did your hair.”

“My best friend taught me to braid it,” Geralt answers, and catches the quick thrumming of Jaskier’s heartbeat. “I like your earring too.”

“Really? It was also my best friend.” Jaskier touches the silver-adorned pearl. “A gift from him. I think he’s forgotten by this point, but it’s my favorite.”

“He’s got taste.”

“And he’s too smug for his own good.” It is only now that Geralt notices the small bundle of flowers Jaskier is holding. It’s too late into the fall, so they must be from Oxenfurt’s greenhouse. The bouquet is fresh and colorful, tied together with a ribbon. “Never mind him. Tonight is about you, and this—” Jaskier puts the bouquet in Geralt’s hand. “—is a gift for you.”

Geralt takes a subtle sniff and finds the scent pleasant on his sensitive nose. “My gentleman caller,” he muses, bravery rising in his chest. “Did you pick them out yourself?”

“Why, yes, of course.”

“You must have gone through a lot of trouble.” Geralt raises his brow. “What is your intention with me?”

“My beloved witcher,” Jaskier smiles, his blue eyes flowing with romance. “I have the full intention of courting you tonight, if you’ll have me.”

The buttons around Geralt’s neck are truly too tight. He has to loosen one of them just to get air into his lungs. He looks down in a panic, as if the bouquet has become the most interesting thing in the world.

“I…” The flowers are too nice, too delicate next to his scarred hands. “Jaskier, I…”

“Hey, Geralt. Look at me.” Gentle fingers tip his chin so Geralt looks into Jaskier’s eyes and his genuine concern. “You are in safe hands, alright? If you truly don’t want to do this, just tell me at any point. A pretend date is supposed to be fun for both of us. I won’t do anything to make you uncomfortable. If you want to call it off now, we can just have a normal dinner instead.”

Oh, but Geralt is not strong enough to say no to Jaskier when he’s kind like this.

“No.” he shakes his head. “I’m good.”

“Good. I want you to feel good. The whole Jaskier package, remember?” Jaskier winks like it’s a private joke between them, an intimate secret. “I won’t disappoint you.”

“You can’t,” Geralt answers perhaps too quickly, because he cannot imagine a world where Jaskier can ever disappoint him, and it hits too close to home. He clears his throat, trying to shake the gravity of it. “Because, you see, I have nothing to compare it to.”

“How reassuring.” Jaskier turns to the sunset and loops his arm around Geralt’s elbow, guiding him down the last stair. “Just relax and let me woo you thoroughly tonight. Just tonight, and don’t you worry a thing. It’s only pretending.”

“Right.”

The sinking feeling in Geralt’s chest is strange, but he follows Jaskier out of the door. Their arms are linked together, and Geralt holds the flowers very close to his chest.

☆ 

The astronomy room sits on the top floor of the Oxenfurt Observatory, its round dome made of glass. By the time they make the climb, stars are appearing at the edge of the dark blue sky, the orange hue of the sunset fading into the horizon.

The metal spiral staircase is steep. When Jaskier reaches the top, he turns around to take Geralt’s hand, just to help him walk up the last few steps.

It’s ridiculous. Geralt is a witcher who has hiked through the most dangerous terrains, and Jaskier is already out of breath from climbing a building.

He takes Jaskier’s hand anyway.

Jaskier holds Geralt steadily, his cheeks flushed from the exertion, and he doesn’t let go. Instead, he links their fingers together to lead Geralt to the edge of the room where the glass panes stretch from the floor to the center of the roof.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Jaskier says, facing the view. “It’s the highest point of Oxenfurt. You can see Novigrad from here on a clear day.”

The town sits below them. The evening market gathers with its bustling, now made merrier with Saovine so near, but the glass muffles out all the noises. Houses spread into the distance, warmth radiating from their windows. The Pontar hides behind them, its waves catching the new moon’s silver light.

They could be the only two people in the world, standing on top of it together.

Geralt turns to Jaskier, tugging at his hand. “It’s breathtaking.”

“Don’t be cheeky, witcher. I’m the one courting you,” Jaskier says. “I should be the one showering you with compliments.”

“Hmm.”

Jaskier walks to the other side of the room to find a lit candle, using the flame to light up more. A picnic is already set up near the giant telescope, a few blankets put on the dais to make for somewhere to sit. There is a basket too, with two wine bottles sticking out.

Geralt sits on the blankets and carefully puts down his bouquet. Jaskier uncorks the wine and pours two glasses.

“Here you go.”

The smell of summer hits Geralt’s nose. “Oh,” he lets out an amazed hum, remembering the midsummer festival at Beauclair last year. It is the same wine.

Jaskier grins proudly. “I know it’s your favorite.”

“I never said.” Geralt steals a sip, and another.

“You didn’t need to. You have this…look, when you are contented with something but not daring to show it, lest it disappears the next second.” Jaskier nurses his wine, observing Geralt. “Did I tell you about this orange tabby I had when I was a child? The poor thing was left on the street, all wet and shivering when I found him in the rain. He had the same look whenever I gave him treats. Could never shake it for years.”

Geralt would be offended if the wine wasn’t so good. He closes his eyes for a second, sweetness lingering in his throat.

“So I’m another charity case you took in?” he teases.

“No,” Jaskier looks down, seemingly not sure what to do with his hands. “It’s just a nice look on you, is all. I just wish you’d let yourself enjoy things without the fear of losing them. They are not going anywhere.”

“And neither are you.”

It comes out of Geralt’s lips naturally, as a fact, a truth, unchallenged by any century-long doubt he may still harbor. Jaskier stays, and he will always stay. It’s as simple as that. Sometimes, Geralt is still overwhelmed by the thought.

“And neither am I,” Jaskier says softly, his cheeks pink and eyes warm.

The sky has darkened over, and the candles burn brightly around them. Geralt lets out an exhale and just holds Jaskier’s gaze for a moment.

“So what’s next?” he asks, finally.

“Next?”

“Next in the Jaskier package,” Geralt reminds him. “You promised a full experience.”

“Right!” Jaskier’s eyes light up. He puts down the glass to reveal the dinner in the basket. “Never claim my fame as a lover is false, my dear. The night has only just started. It’s the most important rule of courting, you see. The way to someone’s heart is through their stomach. And I swear to you—” He puts a hand over his heart. “—no carrots in there.”

Geralt rumbles out a laugh. “My gallant knight.”

“You know how it is.” Jaskier winks. “Anything for you.”

☆   

The picnic dinner is a simple affair, with bread, cheese and various cold cuts. It’s nothing luxurious, as one might expect from Jaskier, but Geralt enjoys every second of it.

For one, Jaskier is getting pleasantly tipsy, his face flushed and his smiles bubbly. The wine isn’t nearly strong enough for a witcher, but the dizzy feeling of being wine drunk creeps up. It’s easy to feel drunk by proximity when Jaskier is like this, so Geralt lets out his laughs easily.

In the end, it’s not unlike any other night of their life together. Jaskier takes out the dessert from the basket, two strawberry cream cakes. He splits half of his and gives it to Geralt.

They drink, and talk, and Jaskier leans over to wipe the cream on the corner of Geralt’s lips. By the time they leave the observatory from the same staircase, Jaskier has entered his tactile phase of being drunk, giggly and half-leaning into Geralt’s side.

“They are dancing, Geralt,” Jaskier says, watching the people gathered at the marketplace. A bard is playing the lute, a sweet, romantic song—he’s not as good as Jaskier though. “Let’s dance too.”

Geralt chuckles. “Is this part of it?”

“Mm-hmm.” Jaskier takes Geralt’s hand. “May I have the next dance, my beloved witcher?”

The next thing Geralt knows, he’s being led into the dancing crowd and held close in Jaskier’s arms, their feet moving together. The night is crisp with the autumn wind, but Jaskier is warm, and his scent is content.

“You are a terrible dancer,” Geralt says, after Jaskier messes up the steps a second time. “And a terrible flirt.”

“I am only guilty of the latter.” Jaskier preens. “You are just too easy to flirt with.”

“Am I now?”

Jaskier simply tucks a strand of stray hair behind Geralt’s ear, his fingers lingering, resting on the nape of Geralt’s neck. “Not in a bad way,” he answers. “I just…really enjoyed courting you tonight, every moment of it. I haven’t felt this way in a long time. And I’m proud of you too, Geralt, for putting up with all of my nonsense.”

Geralt swallows. “Your nonsense wasn’t…unpleasant.”

“My, my, a high praise.”

“It’s just…”

Jaskier pauses for a moment, pulling away ever so slightly, worry creeping onto his brow. “What is it? You can tell me. Did I do something to upset you?”

Geralt shakes his head before Jaskier could finish, his hand rubbing small circles in Jaskier’s back to reassure him. “Nothing like that, bard. I only wonder, how is this different?”

“How is what different?” Now Jaskier looks more puzzled.

“How is today any different from any other day?” Geralt asks. “Courting, not courting.”

The crease between Jaskier’s eyebrows relaxes. “Well, today I do everything I can to make you happy.”

“And how is that any different?” Geralt asks again.

Because Jaskier has been doing it for years. He’s been taking care of Geralt every day, singing songs for him, brightening the day for him. He’s been sharing half of his dessert with Geralt since their first month of traveling together, just because he noticed Geralt’s secret sweet tooth.

He knows Geralt, his quiet joy, his small secrets. Every day, he does everything he can to make Geralt happy.

“Huh,” Jaskier muses. “I guess it’s not. Not really.”

Geralt buries his face in Jaskier’s neck and closes his eyes, his breath shuddering.

One song ends, and another begins. Every line of the lyrics sings of love, but for the first time, Geralt feels like he’s holding it right between his arms.

☆   

They walk the winding hallway of Oxenfurt’s faculty quarters in silence, Geralt’s pinky finger hooked with Jaskier’s, their arms swaying together.

“This is you,” Jaskier says at the door, letting go first. “I bid you goodnight here, my beloved witcher.”

Geralt looks at the door, and back at Jaskier. “We both live here, Jask.”

“You oaf.” Jaskier nudges him gently. “If we were truly courting, this is where I’d be leaving you. It’s the gentlemanly thing to do, see you home safely and politely leave. I shouldn’t assume you’d invite me in.”

All they need to do is push open the door, and the spell is broken. It’ll just be them, witcher and bard, no more than best friends.

“How does it end?” Geralt grasps at something, anything. “The Jaskier experience. What is your final move?”

Something inscrutable flashes across Jaskier’s eyes. “Do you truly want to find out?”

“It’s what you promised.” Geralt takes a step closer. “The whole package.”

“If you insist.” Jaskier smiles, taking a step closer, mirroring Geralt’s movement. Their faces are only a hand’s breadth away, the faint scent of alcohol lingering on Jaskier’s skin. “If tonight were real, I’d want to find some excuses to touch you. Like this.”

Jaskier reaches behind Geralt’s head to untie his braid, loosening his hair and brushing absently, his fingers feather-light, sending a shiver down to Geralt’s core.

“And?” Geralt says, his voice deep.

“And I’d lean into you, but not too close. I’d wait for you to reciprocate.”

Their bodies are near pressed together, and Geralt takes Jaskier’s waist to close the distance. His heart picks up, nearly as fast as a human’s, and he can hear Jaskier’s heartbeat like a hummingbird’s wings, quickening in return.

“I would,” Geralt whispers. “What next?”

“I…I’d look at you, just like this.” Jaskier’s gaze is so intense, so full of want, Geralt nearly shies away from it. It takes everything in him to let Jaskier observe him like this. “I’d tell you I had a lovely time tonight.”

“Did you?”

“I had a lovely time, Geralt,” Jaskier replies seriously. “It’s always lovely when it’s you.”

“You too, Jaskier. I’d tell you the same.”

Jaskier lets out a smile, his breath fanning over Geralt’s skin. “Now, I would look down.” He looks down at Geralt’s lips, his lashes cast low. “And I…”

Geralt’s throat bobs, his eyes also falling to Jaskier’s soft lips. “And you…”

“I…” Jaskier breathes, “I’d wait for you to kiss me.”

So Geralt kisses him.

He cups Jaskier’s cheek to pull him in. It’s a chaste thing, a barely-there kiss pressed on Jaskier’s mouth, and it’s over in a second. Geralt pulls away to find Jaskier’s eyes wide and unblinking.

“Um, yes.” Jaskier stammers, his face growing impossibly red. “Well done, Geralt. You are getting it. If we were courting, this is where we would kiss. You really are a fast learner—”

“No, Jaskier,” Geralt says carefully, his thumb trailing down to the corner of Jaskier’s mouth. “It’s not a part of it. It’s not pretending. It’s me. Just me. I’m kissing you.”

Their second kiss draws out sweetly, with Geralt’s hand pressed into the small of Jaskier’s back, dipping him backward. A small moan escapes Jaskier’s throat, and his fingers thread into Geralt’s hair.

“Wait—” Jaskier breaks the kiss, his chest heaving. He has no right to be this affected by two simple kisses, and yet his breaths are coming out fast, his lips red and eyes shining. “Geralt, wait. It’s not that I’m unhappy about this. I’m so gloriously happy, but…” he hesitates, “why?”

Geralt shrugs. “Why not?”

Jaskier stares, his expression going from confusion to determination. He leans forward to kiss Geralt on the corner of his mouth. “We have so much to talk about.”

Geralt kisses him back. “We do.”

“We could mess this up.”

Jaskier’s lips trail down to Geralt’s neck.

“We could,” Geralt croaks, tipping his head back to give Jaskier easier access.

“Knowing us, we will,” Jaskier says breathlessly between kisses. “We could ruin our friendship if not careful, and I could lose you, after.”

Geralt sobers up at that, pulling away to lock eyes with Jaskier. He looks at Jaskier and sees a flash of doubt in those blue eyes. It’s the same doubt that used to reside in the darkest part of his mind—being left. Being alone.

Not anymore.

“Never,” Geralt promises. It’s a more solemn vow than any he’s taken. “Jaskier, you will not lose me. Not because of this. Never because of this.”

Jaskier lets out a choked sound before catching Geralt’s hand and pressing it to his heartbeat. “Well then,” he says, “We should go inside. It’s time we moved things along.”

“Yes,” Geralt agrees. “It’s time, don’t you think?”

Jaskier pushes open the door, their hands still linked together. He stops, suddenly. “But you see, it was the first time you were courted. It still seems unfair to me. You can’t be won over by just one night.”

Geralt brings Jaskier’s hand to his lips and kisses his knuckles. “What can I say? I’ve been wooed thoroughly.”

“Still, you deserve much more,” Jaskier insists.

Taking a moment, Geralt lets a smile spread across his face. “There’s always tomorrow, and every day after.

“Every day after,” Jaskier repeats, smiling in return. “I like that idea.”

Geralt can’t complain if the outlook for the future is being wooed by Jaskier every day. He shall just fall in love every day in return.

The door shuts behind them, and they let tomorrow begin.

#geraskier #geraskier fic #fluff #getting together #once again i write out of pettiness

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt #1

Jaskier takes all of Geralt's comments to heart and stops singing around him. Geralt notices, and is horrified, as despite his emotionally constipated snarks, he adores Jaskier's music and finds him very talented. One day, Jaskier is singing at camp while Geralt is out hunting. Geralt comes back and Jaskier immediately stops singing and apologizes. Geralt tells him not to apologize and asks why he thought he had to, thus the secret comes out, and Geralt makes up for his previous comments with lots of love and praise toward Jaskier and his talents.

#fanfiction prompts #geralt x dandelion #geralt x jaskier #geraskier #witcher fanfiction #fanfic prompt #writing prompt #story prompt #plot bunny #fluff #angst with a happy ending #light angst #getting together #mutual pining #friends to lovers

[lakka-arts]

OLD MAN YAOI

#if anyone tags this with twn geraskier or twn jaskier or twn at all. i have full permission to steal your kneecaps #and if anyone recognizes the pose of this... ur truly insane. #i love it when they retire in corvo bianco together. like YES. that's an option!!!! #the witcher #dandelion #geralt #my art #gerlion #i love them!!! old gay men #theyre gay and they live together get mad over it #tw3