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geraskierbrainrot · 2 years

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This is a collection of modern AUs where Geralt, Jaskier, or both do porn

Do No Harm by @grassylampshade | E | 3k

“Why are you here?” Geralt’s voice is unbelievably deep, a growl that resonates differently in person than it does through Jaskier’s tinny laptop speakers. Jaskier clears his throat and says, “I need your help.”

Jaskier wants to improve his stamina and Geralt is willing to lend him a hand.

Socially Acceptable Ways to Meet Your Soulmate by @elpiething | E | 4k

Jaskier's parents weren't precisely keen on their oldest Omega child going to Oxenfurt to learn art. So they told him to pay off his own student debt. Which means they can't technically get mad at him for going in for a camera test at Vengeance Studios. - An AU where Alphas can't knot without medical assistance. Or their soulmate.

(we should just kiss) like real people do by @thewalrus-said | E | 6k

Jaskier is a dime-a-dozen independent porn star with a party trick. The mononymous Geralt, owner and star of Rivia Studios, is one of the greats in the industry. So Jaskier is a little surprised when Geralt contacts his agent to set up a scene together. Surprised, but very, very willing. (A porn stars AU.)

your two tongue kisses by @krytella | E | 7k

It’s not like Jaskier would want to be in the scenes with Geralt. That’s all highly choreographed, completely stripped of romanticism. No, what Jaskier fantasizes about is ridiculously sappy by anyone’s standards: kissing him, wrapping their bodies around each other in shapes that don't angle to the camera, running fingers through his hair, touching him when he’s not hard, or not to keep him hard, just for pure pleasure. Or: Jaskier is a porn cameraman and Geralt is his favorite performer. Probably not the porn AU you were looking for.

I Can't Take My Eyes Off You by JustSimpleThings | E | 7k

Jaskier is a porn star who can't stop staring at the fit new camera man. The situation spells 'trouble'.

boogie nights by spqr | E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | 8k

“This isn’t nothing.” His eyebrows draw together. “Jaskier. What happened?” Jaskier fists his hands in his own hair and contemplates pulling it out. “I got shot.” “Shot,” Geralt echoes, in a tone Jaskier’s never heard before. “Only a bit,” Jaskier hedges. “I took some vicodin, it’s perfectly fine. I can hardly feel it.”

Sweet by TheArtistFormerlyKnownAsG | E | 8k

Sugar and Spice Witcher Bingo Prompt: rough

They Were Roommates by Nowaki | E | 11k

Geralt finds Jaskier’s porn. A surprising amount of the videos are about him.

Geraskier OnlyFans AU series by @ghostlyfallows | 19k

→ The Tower of the Swallow | M | 2k

The man had a very handsome face. His face wasn’t exactly a problem - Jaskier was used to keeping his cool in front of many beautiful and handsome people. The problem was this wasn’t the first time he’d seen this face. More specifically, the problem was: the last time Jaskier had seen this face, it was when he’d confirmed the $11.99 purchase for a month’s subscription to his OnlyFans.

Geralt opened his mouth - that mouth jesus holy fucking christ on a stick - and Jaskier stuck his hand out for a hand shake.

“Julian Pankratz,” he introduced himself, praying to whatever god was listening that his face hadn’t turned an embarrassing shade of red.

Judging from the look on Yennefer’s face, he wasn’t so lucky.

Geralt nodded, not betraying even a hint of a smile. He shook his hand back and answered in a gruff voice, “Geralt.”

But of course, Jaskier already knew that.

→ Baptism of Fire | E | 5k

A continuation of my previous fic, in which Geralt is an OnlyFans creator and Jaskier is his (simp) twitter manager

→ Weak and Wanting | E | 7k

Not surprisingly, Geralt didn’t budge. “Jaskier, how much have you had to drink?” he demanded after Jaskier’s palms bounced off of his chest. “It’s not the alcohol! I’m serious! It's like you have no understanding of the stages to these kinds of things. I’ve seen you naked and talked you through fucking yourself but I haven’t even kissed you yet.” Jaskier clapped a hand over his mouth. “On second thought, I didn’t say that. Stop it, Geralt, why are you laughing?” The corners of his mouth still twitched, but he did his best to hide his mirth for Jaskier’s sake. “So, you do want to kiss me?” Geralt’s head tilted to the side. Despite his confident posture, he seemed...stiff. He had the nerve to look embarrassed. Jaskier clenched his hands into fists. “Are you hesitating?” Jaskier seethed. “You’ve been playing all these games, but you have the nerve to be shy about it? Let me repeat myself, since you want to act all coy: I’ve seen your cock. You called me while you were - while you were fingering yourself to ask me to help. Why the hell are you looking at me like that? Of course I want to kiss you.”

→ Give Me One Good Movie Kiss (give me one good honest kiss and I'll be alright) | E | 4k

"It was...different from any other job he’d taken. Certainly a step up from backbreaking labor for minimum wage. At least he was making tips. He’d never worked a job with tips before. Geralt clicked his cellphone into the tripod by his bed and stripped his t-shirt over his head. He tossed it, along with his jeans and boxer briefs, into his clothing hamper in the corner. Usually, his audience liked a show. He’s learned to tease, make them wait, instead of turning the camera on fully nude with his cock hard in his hand. He got all dressed up just to slowly peel the clothes away. It was an art form, he’d learned over the past few months. Nothing like the clumsy or cheesy fumbling he believed it to be when he first signed up for an account. It was more like dancing. He’d never been good at dancing, but he was good at sex, and that counted for something in this profession." AKA The Bottoming Video from Geralt's POV

Electric Kisses and Lace by SweetestHoney | E | 21k

What Jaskier expected from parent-teacher night was some demanding parents, some stupid questions, and maybe some gossip about a few of the couples. What he got, however, was Geralt, father to one of his students, letting him know that he knew about Jaskier's second job and threatening to tell the school that Jaskier was a gay porn star. How does Jaskier handle this little revelation? Anything but gracefully, of course. Or that one where Jask is on onlyfans and Geralt calls him out on it, leading to the worlds stupidest morons being dumb at each other for 20,000 words straight.

Show love to all these authors by leaving kudos and comments, and happy reading!

#geraskier #geralt/jaskier #the witcher #the witcher fic #geraskier fic recs

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jaskierswolf · 4 years

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A Night Alone With You

Written for the below prompt and cross posted on my AO3 ☺️

Oooh for a prompt: some tender hurt/comfort for Geraskier please ☺️ Like maybe Jaskier is having a hard day and is sad in bed and Geralt comforts him or something like that @geraskier-trashh

__________

To look at Jaskier Pankratz, you would think that he thrived when he was around people.

That wasn’t strictly true.

Yes, he did love people. He loved pleasing people but most of all he loved the music. He sang and he danced and he flirted with the crowd but it was about the music. It was only ever about the music.

No one expected a famous troubadour and poet to retire to their room alone at night and whilst he was more than happy to have a warm body to lie with, tonight he was fucking exhausted.

He’d been performing for three nights straight and every evening he’d been surrounded by beautiful people that had demanded his attention. He needed a break. He needed to hide under the sheets in his rented room. He needed to spend a week in the woods with just the taciturn witcher for company. He needed to get away from all this noise and people.

He just needed to recharge.

Then he could go back to the extroverted bard that everyone knew and loved.

He finished his song with a last strum of the lute. He smiled brightly at the crowd and bowed whilst the final notes hung in the air. He gathered up the coins that were flung in his direction and gracefully declined any offers of drinks, then he scarpered up to his room taking the stairs two at a time.

His doublet fell to the floor and he kicked off his boots then he dove under the covers.

The weight fell over him and he could finally breathe again. He hummed happily and closed his eyes. In his head he wove the next few verses of his latest composition, picturing the story so very clearly in the empty darkness of his room. He muttered under his breath as he tested out the rhymes and rhythms of the lines. Occasionally he would scrunch up his nose as the story went somewhere he didn’t like, and then he’d start over. He kept starting over until the daydream and the story of his ballad followed the path that he wanted it to.

Eventually his eyes grew heavy as he told himself his own bedtime stories and he fell asleep with his head still buried under the covers.

___________

He woke up drenched in sweat and with a pounding headache, which wasn’t helped by insistent knocking on his door.

“Bollocks.” He grumbled and untangled himself from the sheets. He pulled them around his shoulders like a cape and yawned as he padded across the wooden floorboards towards the door.

“Jaskier.” Angela, the barmaid who he had spent the previous evening with, purred as he opened the door, clearly aiming for seductive and on any other day he would have been delighted.

As it was it took all his energy not to slam the door in her face.

“Is everything alright?” He mumbled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He peered back at his window. It was still dark outside and he could see the moon even from across the room.

She pulled at the lace of her bodice and sauntered into his room.

“It is now we’re alone.” She dragged a finger down his chest, pulling at his half opened shirt.

Fuck.

“Ah. I see.” He mumbled and extracted himself from her grip. “No. Thank you for the offer but I would really rather get some rest… alone.”

She raised an eyebrow and put her hand on her hip. “But last night?” She pouted.

“Was wonderful.” He agreed, and honestly it had been.

She sighed. “But not tonight?”

He shook his head. “Not tonight.”

She nodded with a frown, obviously hurt by his rejection. He leaned in to kiss her cheek and he squeezed her hand. “It’s nothing personal, darling.”

“Well, goodnight.” She pulled away from him too roughly and he sighed.

Fucking people, but at least she’d let it go easily, not everyone did.

“Goodnight, sweet Angela.” He whispered after her.

Then he sighed again.

“Bloody hell.” He groaned.

He pulled off his shirt and trousers this time, not wanting to overheat again and flopped back down on the bed. He jumped straight back into his composing, he couldn’t remember exactly which at point he’d fallen asleep so he went from the last bit he could remember.

Until there was another knock at the door just as he was starting to fall back to sleep.

“Oh fuck off!” He groaned. “Can’t a bard get some peace?”

“Jaskier.”

His eyes went wide and he jumped from the bed, pulling the covers with him. He almost tripped up as they tangled around his ankles and he crashed into the door.

Geralt!

He’d been out on a hunt the last view days and Jaskier hadn’t been expecting the witcher back for another day at least. There was a teensy chance that his worrying about the witcher had contributed to his foul mood and lowered his tolerance of people. It was mentally exhausting knowing that his best friend was out there risking his life for the thankless souls of humanity and there was nothing he could do about it. In front of people he acted like he had every confidence in Geralt’s abilities but in reality he’d seen the scars, he’d even seen a few of the wounds that left the scars.

No matter how good Geralt was, it never diminished the risk of him getting hurt.

Jaskier flung about the door and pulled the slightly startled witcher inside.

“Geralt!” Jaskier greeted him warmly. “How was your hunt? You must tell me everything!” He babbled on like he usually would. He didn’t want to cause Geralt any concern, especially if he’d been injured, by not being his usual verbose self.

Geralt hummed and slunk down on the edge of the bed. “Thought you’d have company?”

Jaskier shrugged.

Geralt scowled at him. “Are you alright?”

Jaskier stammered but slid down onto the bed next to Geralt and pulled at the covers so they were once again draped over his shoulders. “Yeah.” He drawled, the word sounding false even to his ears.

“Jaskier.” Geralt growled.

“I. I just needed a rest.” Jaskier mumbled.

Geralt scoffed.

“I needed to be alone.” He sighed and rested his head on Geralt’s shoulder. “Everyone always expects me to be so… ahhhh…” He gave a frantic wave of his hands, “all the fucking time. It gets a bit much, even for me.” He admitted, feeling strangely vulnerable.

Even around Geralt he was always the story teller and the extravagant poetic. Geralt struggled to express himself at times and Jaskier picked up the slack. He didn’t mind. Out of the two of them, he was the more eloquent one, and it was his role in their friendship.

Geralt grunted. “I can go.”

Jaskier grabbed Geralt’s hand before he could move and looked the witcher in the eyes. “No. Don’t.”

“You want to be alone.” Geralt looked, quite rightly, confused.

Jaskier sighed. “I don’t want to be around people.” He amended.

“But…”

“You don’t count as people.” Jaskier insisted firmly. “Please don’t go.”

Geralt smirked as he looked around the tiny room that was clearly made for just one person. “It’s cheaper to share.” He noted.

An excuse.

It was always an excuse. There was this unspoken… thing between them. It wasn’t quite a relationship but it was different to friendship. There was a weird tension there that never existed between two good friends. They shared bedrolls, actual beds, bath water, meals… practically everything in their travelling lives was shared. At first it had been out of necessity but the coin was steady these days and they no longer needed to share.

And yet.

“It is cheaper.” Jaskier agreed.

Geralt stripped off and cleaned up the best he could without calling for a bath. They would have to ask for one in the morning but at least Geralt wasn’t covered in monster guts this time. Once he was ready for bed he laid back on the mattress, his long silver hair spilling over the pillows. Jaskier still had the covers wrapped around him and he wasn’t planning on letting them go any time soon but Geralt wouldn’t complain, he never did when Jaskier stole the covers in the night.

Jaskier curled up against Geralt’s chest and let out a sigh of relief. He really had meant it when he’d said that Geralt didn’t count as people. He was one of the few people on the Continent that Jaskier could be around when he needed to recharge his energy, in fact it was almost better to be with Geralt than alone.

Still, even now, the silence was stifling.

Geralt’s fingers threaded through Jaskier’s hair as they lay there in the darkness and the silence. Jaskier felt like he could have purred under the rhythmic ministrations of the witcher’s hands, but the quiet was making his thoughts seem too loud.

They were always too loud.

“Tell me about the hunt.” He asked, tentatively breaking the silence.

Geralt’s hand stilled in his hair for a few beats but then he started again, tugging at the knots where Jaskier had been messing it up earlier in the day.

“What do you want to know?” Geralt answered with his own question, his voice a low gruff rumbling in the dark.

“Everything.” Jaskier breathed. “Make it up if you have to.”

He could practically hear the eye roll from Geralt. “I’m not making it up, Jaskier.”

“Then tell me all the wonderfully nerdy things you know about vampires.” Jaskier insisted.

“It was a bruxa. You know they aren’t just vampires. It’s more complex than that.” Geralt grumbled.

“There we go. Just like that. I like your voice.” He admitted. “It’s soothing.”

Geralt scoffed. “Says the bard.”

Jaskier whined and buried his face into Geralt’s chest. “You don’t even like my voice.”

There was a beat of silence.

“I do.” Geralt grumbled.

“Nah.” Jaskier muttered. “Don’t lie.”

“I’m not.” Geralt’s hand moved from Jaskier’s hair down his back and Jaskier felt himself being pulled closer. He snuggled into Geralt’s chest quite happily.

“Tell me.” He asked, bordering on pleading.

Geralt took a long heavy breath as he gathered his thoughts and it took all of Jaskier’s patience not to push his friend.

“You have… fuck.” Geralt snarled and buried his face into Jaskier’s hair.

Jaskier stayed silent but drew out the pattern from his lute on Geralt’s chest as best he could from memory.

“Your voice is home.” Geralt mumbled. “It’s warm. Beautiful.”

“Beautiful?” Jaskier’s heart began to race in his chest and he had no doubt that the witcher could feel it too.

“Hmm. Yes, like the sirens only you don’t try to kill me.” Geralt seemed to laugh at his own joke but Jaskier was still stuck on beautiful.

“You think my voice is beautiful?” He squeaked.

“You are beautiful.” Geralt replied with such sincerity that Jaskier felt like he was going to burst.

Instead he let out a stream of sounds and pulled the covers over his head.

“Jaskier?” Geralt asked quietly and tugged at the edge of the sheets but Jaskier held them tight.

He was blushing too much.

Geralt thought he was beautiful.

Geralt.

Oh fuck!

He whined pitifully.

“Is. Is that alright?” Geralt’s voice was muffled through the covers and Jaskier could barely hear anything over the sound of his own heart. “Your heart, are you ok?”

“Fuck, Geralt.” Jaskier groaned and pulled the covers from off his head, glaring at the witcher. “Are you trying to kill me?"

Geralt seemed taken aback. “No?”

“You. You’re being all… nice!” He sat up and waved his hands in the witchers face. “It’s. It’s too much.”

Geralt frowned. “You don’t want me to be nice?”

“No. Yes. No. Oh I don’t know!” Jaskier jumped up and tried desperately to calm his heart.

Geralt huffed. “You are being confusing tonight.”

“Yeah well, I’m not feeling like myself.” Jaskier muttered. “Sorry.”

“Jaskier?” Geralt slowly sat up and moved towards the end of the bed, like he was scared Jaskier would spook and run a mile.

He wasn’t wrong.

Jaskier licked his lips and wrapped his arms around his chest.

“Forgive me if I’m reading this wrong. I’m not good at, well, this.” Geralt snarled quietly and frowned then took a deep breath.

“Reading what wrong?” The words fell from Jaskier’s lips before he could stop them.

Geralt didn’t answer. Instead Jaskier was pulled back towards the bed and Geralt’s lips were hovering over his so tantalisingly close and yet so far. Jaskier whimpered as his knees knocked against the edge of the mattress. One of Geralt’s hands was holding his wrist and rubbing circles against the skin there with a thumb, the other was cupping Jaskier’s cheek so tenderly. He could almost hear the swell of music surrounding them in the moment. Geralt’s warm breath tickled his lips and Jaskier swallowed.

Gods, if Geralt didn’t kiss him now then he was fucked.

Royally fucked.

“Can I?” Geralt murmured, his warm amber eyes watching Jaskier intently, taking in every movement of Jaskier’s eyes and every shaking breath.

“Please.” Jaskier stammered.

And Geralt kissed him.

Oh gods, did Geralt kiss him. It was everything Jaskier had ever dreamed of and more. It was tender and slow where he’d imagined it would be rough and bruising. There was love where he’d imagined there would be pure lust. There was a hand on his wrist, pulling him down to sit with Geralt on the bed, where he’d pictured hands in his hair and being pushed up against a wall.

He couldn’t breathe.

He didn’t want to breathe.

He didn’t need to breathe.

He just needed Geralt.

Fuck.

Well perhaps he did need to breathe a little. He panted as he pulled away from the witcher. His eyes were still shut, he couldn’t remember shutting them, but he was scared that if he opened them then Geralt would disappear and he’d be alone, truly alone.

“G-Geralt?” He mumbled.

Geralt rested his forehead against Jaskier’s and Jaskier let out a sigh. His eyes slowly opening to find the witcher gazing back at him.

Gazing with such adoration that Jaskier was sure he’d stepped into a fairy tale or a dream.

“Is this alright?”

Jaskier let out a small laugh. “Yeah. More than alright. It’s perfect.”

Geralt smiled. “So I haven’t ruined your evening?”

Jaskier pulled back and hit Geralt lightly in the arm. “Geralt!” He pouted.

Geralt shrugged. “You wanted to be alone.”

Jaskier pressed his lips against Geralt’s in a chaste kiss and then bumped their noses together as they pulled apart. “My darling, there is no one else I would rather be alone with, but you.”

#the witcher #geraskier #jaskier pankratz #geralt of rivia #geraskier fanfiction #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #geralt/jaskier #julian alfred pankratz #one shot #wolfie's witcher writing #a night alone with you #let me know what you think #prompts are open

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selfawarejester · 3 years

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PROMPT (from here): “I’m still way too sober for this.”

SHOW: The Witcher

CHARACTERS: Geralt of Rivia, OFC, Jaskier

WORDS: 472

A/N: A scrap of a writing exercise because I was feeling some writer’s block from writing The Song of Alessandra (Which is also a Witcher fic starring Lyssa! Go check it out if you want!)

“Did you know?!” Jaskier shrieks, slipping on mossy stairs as the three sprint up the exit of the abandoned temple. Geralt’s so far ahead, he’s already outside doing… something, he’s sure. “Did you know it had a craving for bards?!”

“Of course not!” Lyssa yells back, swivelling backwards to grab Jaskier by the back of his doublet and drag him up alongside her. “Geralt, tell me you have the bomb ready!”

A head of white hair pops up into Jaskier’s increasingly tunnelling vision, holding up a small metal sphere the size of his fist. “Here! Now, get out of the way!”

He doesn’t think his feet even touch the floor for those last few steps — it’s all Lyssa and pure demigod strength that bounds forward and then tosses him onto firm, grassy ground. He only has a moment to bemoan his aching derrière, as Lyssa lands harshly a few feet in front of him, and Geralt hurls the bomb at the monster chasing them.

There’s a confused scrawww? before it goes off in a bang that’s equal parts bone splintering and gore splashing the walls of the temple.

There’s a few seconds of heavy breathing as she gets to her feet, shaking off the gross pieces of flesh that managed to strike the soles of her boots. Geralt calmly dusts off the celestial bronze powder on his fingers, and offers him a hand, which he graciously takes and clambers upwards.

“Alright… NOW EXPLAIN WHY YOU USED ME AS BAIT!” He yells at Lyssa, who gasps in outrage.

“Bait?! I didn’t even want you to come in! I told you I didn’t know what the monster was!”

“Bah! Wonderful demigod you are! Don’t you have a bestiary — like Geralt does?”

“Yeah, but it’s five huge tomes long, I don’t exactly carry it around- And besides, I can’t just identify it on hearsay alone!”

Their squabbling is interrupted by a throaty groan, and they look aside to see Geralt running a hand over his face.

“I’m still way too sober for this.”

And promptly turns on his heel, marching back to Roach.

“I’ll be at the tavern — the victor can meet me there.” Lyssa scoffs, shaking her head as she retrieved her fallen sword from the ground, knocked out of her hand when she threw him to safety.

“I’m leaving too. But you can stay and scream at its corpse if you’d like.” She points the tip of her xithos at the mangled body — eugh, repulsive — and follows after Geralt.

He’s too distracted by grimacing at the horrible sight to notice her leaving and has to sprint after her — those two are always so damn fast with their enhanced endurance and oh!

He curses as he trips over a tree root, almost falling to the ground.

Today really wasn’t his day, was it?

#geralt of rivia #jaskier #julian alfred pankratz #ofc #OC #geralt of rivia x oc #jaskier x oc #strictly platonic in this one-shot but who knows later on??#gabiwrites #oc: lyssa

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nonbinary-renfri · 4 years

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just thinking abt. transmasc dandelion transitioning in his semi-youth after leaving home, using up a good chunk of his inheritance employing a mage to help him do just that. i’m too tired to expound on this idea rn but i just love it a lot so brain go brr

#idk if anything like hormone injections would b possible in the witcher universe #but maybe w magic??#aspects of transition we do with surgery are one and done w magic but like irl hormone things take more maintenance?#well even if it doesn’t really work in canon the modern au potential....#dandelion’s walk is off a little bit bc doing the shot left his hip sorer than usual for some reason #geralt Notices and is like u are hurt?? where are u hurt??? did some one hurt u???? why are u avoiding my eyes and questions #and he’s scenting the air for blood but there’s only the maybe tiniest little bit?#and dandelion’s just like oh boy how to explain this #so he tries his best and geralt is like *has flashback to horror story childhood of medical experimentation basically* and ur..#doing this on purpose. for reasons bc they are important to u and not anyone else #and they have a great angstyish conversation where i get to project my entire trans existence all over dandelion #it really is the most delicious w canon’s details huh #oops i expanded on this in the tags #the witcher #julian alfred pankratz #jaskier #dandelion #transgender #writing #mine #charle talks

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rue-king · 3 years

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King of Weeds

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34360786

summary: aftermath of the mountain, our dandelion is pushed too close to the edge

-one shot in the form of poetry-

warnings: implied suicide, implied drug use, angst

~~~

Broken hearted Bard- you weep

While wolves hide in their den- men in their keep.

You stomp and pout - silk gone wrinkled.

Herbs to forget in linen crinkled.

It's just proof life throws at you

Your love has gone and split a pair into two.

Dandelion, you have yet to wilt.

White wolf hath acid spilt.

Her sweet kiss has killed you yet.

Though your lips have gone untouched,

Harder to your heart you should've clutched.

He doesn’t love you so,

Yet for him your youth you did throw.

Off the cliff you go, my dear

King of Weeds, there's no one for you here.

The coast grows closer,

Gravity - one downward coaster.

Your ballads bid you well,

It's just better this way - can you tell?

#jaskier #geralt x dandelion #geralt of rivia #dandelion #fanfiction #one shot #poetry #ive never written about characters in this form lmao #angst #the witcher #geralt x jaskier #julian alfred pankratz #unrequited affection

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writerdream22 · 4 years

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requested by anonymous, I hope you like this and I hope it's not too short! ✨

pairing: Jaskier x reader, Jaskierx daughter, Reader x daughter

warnings: some fluff. There might be some grammatical errors since English is not my first language. This one shot is in the reader's p.o.v

Since I'd had our daughter, Jaskier had never left my side. Even before her birth, he always made sure that I was ok, and that I never was near something that could have been potentially dangerous. Now, our daughter was five years old, and she looked so much like Jaskier.

He wanted to give his daughter a peculiar name, something that people would have always remembered. And so he chose Marzanna, which meant goddess. Everyone called her Marzie, but only Jaskier was allowed to call her by her full name.

Marzie instantly had the strongest bond with her father, and I was more than happy to know that Jaskier was a good father to her.

In a few occasions, Marzie showed how strong that bond was, and Jaskier showed his love for his daughter :

- when she was feeling down and asked for her dad to sing her a song, or tell her about his adventures again

“Dad, what happened in Posada with uncle Geralt?” she asked. Jaskier smiled, then happily took his lute and started telling about that particular event for the hundredth time. “Well, you remember the song, right? We met this devil with the biggest horns I'd ever seen, and he was ready to attack us! Uncle Geralt, being a courageous witcher, tried to defend us, and he fought for a long time...” He played a few notes, then started singing “When a humble bard, graced a ride along, with Geralt of Rivia, along came this song...”

How I loved that song, it remembered me of when I was younger, and going with Jaskier and Geralt on their quests. I loved adventures, after all.

- when Marzie insisted on wanting to marry Geralt, whom se admired so much, and Jaskier planned a beautiful pretend-wedding for her

“My darling, look at your dress! It's so beautiful!” Jaskier exclaimed, as he saw his three-year-old daughter in front of him: she was wearing a cute white dress, which I had personally sewn, and a beautiful flower crown.

“Thank you, dada!” she answered him “Where is uncle Geralt? I want to see his dress”. “Darling, your uncle is wearing an amazing gown, just like you asked” I answered her, and she smiled widely.

Oh, Marzie was loved by everyone. I mean, Geralt would have never worn an actual gown if it wasn't for his niece.

- when she started taking lute lessons from Jaskier, and started creating songs of her own

“Dada is so beautifuuuul” Marzie sang, as she strung some chords of her lute. She was four, so the instrument was very small and she still couldn't play it correctly “That all the flowers bloom when they see himmmm, and makes my mama smile!”

That time, Jaskier was about to cry. That was the time in which he realized how his daughter resembled him: the passion for music, the looks...

“When you're older, we're going to play together at my events, all right?” he asked her, smiling. “Can I, mama?” she asked me, and I nodded.

“Sure I will, dada!” she finally answered him, and hugged him tightly.

Jaskier truly loves Marzie, and Marzie truly loves her father, and I love how my little daughter has this kind of bond with him.

Let's hope she won't be as reckless as Jaskier was, when she grows older!

#writerdream22 #one shot #requested #jaskier x reader #jaskier x y/n #jaskier imagine #jaskier one shot #the witcher imagine #the witcher #the witcher one shot #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia imagine #the witcher on netflix #jaskier #julian alfred pankratz #this took longer than expected #sorry this is terrible #sorry this is trash #I'm sorry this is so short

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blog-of-a-multitude-of-fandoms · 2 years

Text

Orphan- Jaskier

Pairing: Jaskier x Reader

Characters: Jaskier

Warnings: N/A

Request: Anon- Could I request Jaskier x reader with the prompts “You want a family with me?”, please? Thanks so much!

Word Count: 424

Author: Charlotte

When Jaskier had asked for your hand, you were overjoyed that it was the start of something perfect for the two of you. It wasn’t the most convenient that he travelled with Geralt often, but you knew that soon enough he would be your husband and no matter the distance, the fact of your relationship would hold true. Normally you stayed home when he travelled but at the last moment, you decided to accompany him into the unknown. Once they neared their final location, he paid for a room in a local inn for you, insisting that you stayed in the village that they would return to in a couple of days at the latest once Geralt had finished his work. You weren’t a huge fan of being stuck out of the way whilst the man you loved was in the midst of danger, but it somehow paid off when you met Eira.

Eira was a young girl barely in her fifth year, long forgotten to her parents or any other family. She was dirty and hungry. You couldn’t think of leaving her as she had before; an innocent naïve child had no place out on the streets. Without a second thought, you invited her into your temporary home where you were able to bathe her and feed her the first meal she could remember. You bought her a fresh outfit from the market along with a doll to help occupy her whilst you tried to figure out what you could do.

The easiest option would have been leaving her to the orphanage, but they were already full to the brim, and it was hardly a home for any child. No one in the village knew the child beyond having seen her begging on the streets, having survived on not much more than scraps. By the time Jaskier returned to the inn, you had become fond of the girl, and she felt the same.

“I do not know what we should do,” you sighed. “I cannot in my right mind just abandon her to the streets or the orphanage.”

Jaskier paused for a moment. “We could adopt her?”

Part of you had hoped he’d suggest such a thing, but you never truly believed he would. You assumed at some point you would have a child with him, but you’d never discussed having a family.

“You want a family with me?” You asked, a fond smile curling onto your face.

Jaskier stepped closer to you, resting a gentle hand to your cheek. “More than anything.”

#Orphan #Anon #Request #Jaskier #Jaskier Imagine #Jaskier One Shot #Julian Pankratz #Julian Pankratz Imagine #Julian Pankratz One Shot #The Witcher #The Witcher Imagine #The Witcher One Shot #Charlotte

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multi-fandom-imagines8 · 5 years

Text

Your Fault

Request: Hey ♥️ I Really like your writing. Could I request a reader x Jaskier one where both are unaware of each other’s feelings/that they are attracted to one another? The reader could be a healer and travelling with gerallt and jaskier or something and they (reader and jaskier) do not think it could be possible that they both feel attracted to each other and so they keep on going like usual (meaning: sort of love/hate relationship with much cute joking and stuff) until geralt has enough..? . Requested by anon.

Request: Hello! Could I request a Jaskier imagine if you're still accepting requests? Maybe his best friend has always had feelings for him, so she travels around with him. But he never thought she'd love him, so he continues to pursue other women? Maybe some angst and then fluff? I love all your stories ♥️. Requested by anon.

Taglist

Word Count: 795.

“If you kept your mouth shut, none of this would’ve happened” you blamed Jaskier for not being able to catch the monster, even though Geralt does all the work.

“It’s not like you do anything” he argued.

“Excuse me? I’m here in case you and Geralt got your asses kicked”.

“And without me, we wouldn’t be paid”.

“Oh, yeah? But you could stay at the tavern and when we get back, we could tell you about our tales, which you would falsify anyway”.

“Both of you shut up!” Geralt sighed.

After a long chase, Geralt managed to catch the monster but Jaskier was injured in the way. Luckily, it was a minor injury and you, of course had to fix him up.

Later that evening, the three of you went to a tavern. Geralt was drinking and Jaskier was singing and flirting with a couple of women.

“Of course, typical Jaskier! He makes the job harder and longer, gets injured on the way. I fix him up and not even a thank you. Then he goes to a tavern, drinks, flirts and sleeps with women!” You complained to Geralt, who was now drunk.

“If you like him that much, why don’t you tell him?”.

“I don’t like him” you lied.

“Well, if you don't, why are you so jealous?”.

“I am not!”.

“You’re only fooling yourself. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have other business to attend to”.

“Ugh, men!” You rolled your eyes.

You left the tavern to go to your room. When Jaskier saw that you weren’t looking at him anymore, the smile disappeared from his face.

—-

“Wake up, we got work to do!” Jaskier entered your room and opened the curtains.

“What kind of gentleman enters a lady’s room without knocking?”.

“You’re no lady and I’m not a gentleman, so…”.

“Son of a w-“ you threw one of your pillows at him but he easily avoided it.

“You missed” he teased.

“I was only warming up for when I shoot you with an arrow” you threatened.

“Am I supposed to be scared?” He mocked.

“Stop chatting, we have to go now” Geralt interrupted.

—-

“Ooh, this one looks like you” Jaskier joked.

“Haha, very funny, Jaskier”.

“I know”.

“Your jokes are as ugly as your face”.

“Your comebacks are worse”.

“Oh, shut up!”.

“No, you shut up”.

“I said it first, so shut your mouth”.

“It doesn’t matter. It’s not like there are rules for arguing”.

“Actually there are”.

“Stop it! The two of you” Geralt has grown tired of the two of you.

“He started it” you claimed.

“I don’t care!”.

—-

“Fucking great, Jaskier! Now, we’re lost!” You were mad.

“Well, I thought it was this way. Do you think I wanted to get lost?”.

“Why don’t you two help collect branches for the fire instead of arguing” Geralt suggested.

The night was dark and cold, you started shivering.

“Are you alright?” Geralt checked on you.

“Yes, just a little cold”.

“Come closer”.

You did and he wrapped his arms around you to warm you up.

“I’m going to get some more wood”.

“Good. Maybe some food too, considering you put us into this mess”.

“You know what, Y/n”.

“No, but you’re about to tell me”.

“Yeah, well… you’re- you’re- you’re insufferable”.

“Is that the best you could come up with?” You chuckled.

“Y- yo- you are cold, heartless, soulless and- and not nice”.

“Is that supposed to make me feel bad?” You tried to hide your smile.

“It is. You’re supposed to reflect on your behaviour”.

“Look who’s talking! You’re selfish and only care about yourself”.

“I am not!”.

“You are!”.

“I.am.not!”.

“For the life of me, just stop it! And I don’t mean just now! I’ve had enough of the two of you beckering like an old married couple. You pretend to not like each other, but the soon one of you is missing, you can’t sit still. You both have feelings for one another, so why don’t you just admit them and go fuck instead of arguing!” Geralt yelled at you both.

“I don’t like-“.

“Not a word, Jaskier. I’ve seen the way you look at her”.

“That’s absur-“.

“Not a word from you either. Obviously, you’re jealous of the girls he spends his nights with. Don’t try to deny it. Now, I’m going to piss but by the time I get back you better be doing something” he warned.

“I- I guess we should do what he says” Jaskier suggested.

“Yeah, probably. Before he murders one of us or worse, the both of us” you added.

“True” he came closer but was so nervous to kiss you.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, jaskier!” You rolled your eyes before pressing your lips to his.

Tags: @anotherweirdoontheinternet

#the witcher #jaskier #the witcher imagine #jaskier imagine #the witcher one shot #jaskier one shot #jaskier x reader #jaskier x you #gif imagine #imagine #gif #one shot #joey batey #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #julian alfred pankratz #fluffy jaskier #jaskier fluff #netflix the witcher

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mlm-writer · 3 years

Text

He May Be My Muse, But You Are My Love (Jaskier x M!Reader)

Pairing: Jaskier/Dandelion/Julian Alfred Pankratz x Top Cis Male Reader Rating: Explicit Words: 1637 POV: Second Summary: Jakier loves to sing about you, but the muses do not speak to him about you. Jaskier would rather ignore them than hurt you, but you would rather hurt than hold Jaskier back. Notes: No one asked, but I binged S2 and now this is what we are doing. Third installment of my Jaskier x Better bf than Geralt works. Part One and Part Two are here. NO S2 SPOILERS set between S1 and S2 Tags: angst, hurt/comfort, communication (the best kink in a relationship), bathing together, established relationship, handjob, anal sex and riding

Boisterous sounds of joy and enjoyment surrounded you as you drank your mead at a wooden table in a tavern in Oxenfurt. The warm lights of the flames illuminating the place near midnight added to the hearty atmosphere, but there was a void, a passion missing in the melodious words that filled the air. Your boyfriend sang of your meeting some months ago, voice full of emotion, but something amiss nonetheless. A lesser man would get too inflated by being painted as a guiding light through the mist, as a spark of hope in the midst of the eternal darkness of despair, as a furnace in the frozen heart of a sustained winter. Not you though. You knew more than anyone that Jaskier was an artist that could sing the praises of a rotten apple and still make it sound appetising.

And yet, there was a distinct lacking that the common patron could not put a finger on, but definitely feel. There was a vehemence that you were used to hearing in his voice, but was not quite there these days. Those not quite sparkling eyes met yours through the room and you shot him a smile, before chugging the remainder of your drink and going upstairs. You let Jaskier collect his coin and bask in the worship of his audience. As he entertained the people in the aftermath of his performance, you reheated the water that was brought up to your room earlier that evening.

The aroma of Jaskier’s carefully crafted mix of herbs and oils filled the room as you prepared the bath just as you learned from your bard. If there was one thing your love taught you, it was that luxury was worth its coin. You were already down to your birthday suit and in the tub when Jaskier entered the room, shedding his chemise the second the door was closed. “Oh you are the perfect man, my love,” he moaned at the smell coming from the water.

You smiled while he undressed and got in the tub with you, sloshing water over the edges as he made himself comfortable between your folded legs. He almost purred at the feeling of being engulfed in hot water. You raked your fingers through his hair. He seemed to be letting it grow out these days. “Don’t thank me yet. I just thought a comfortable bath would soften a hard conversation.” You felt Jaskier tense in your arms and you moved your hand down to tenderly massage the muscles between his neck and shoulders. “You’re not quite yourself lately. Talk to me… please.”

Jaskier was awfully quiet, but you felt his muscles relax steadily. “So you’ve noticed?” He eventually inquired. You gave a confirming hum in reply, hoping he would make up for your lack of words. “I… I guess there is no point in lying then…” You kissed the back of his head, hands going down to his shoulders and fingers gently digging into the flesh. “I uh… have been thinking a lot… about him.” You froze for a second, but resumed your pampering right after.

“Happy thoughts or bad thoughts?” Your hands moved down to his shoulders. Your fingers prodded at all the hard outlines of muscle. When did your songbird become so muscular?

Jaskier was quiet for a while. “Both, I suppose. I just… I keep wondering what I could have done differently, so it wouldn’t have ended like it did. I… uh… I want… I have…” He took a deep breath, trying to stitch more words together. “Then again, if I had prevented our abrupt departure, I would have never found you, my love. It… complicates my regrets.” You hummed, taking in the words of the distressed bard between your legs.

“If this has been bothering you so much, it surprises me there is no song about it yet,” you settled on, ignoring the pang of jealousy that travelled through your body. A small moan and a sigh of relief came from the man in front of you as you released the stress in his biceps.

“You do not like it when I sing about him,” came Jaskier’s reply, void of accusation. It was a mere fact, an observation. You stopped your massage in favour of wrapping your arms around his torso and connecting his back with your chest.

“You write your best songs when they are about him,” you retorted in the same manner. You were quiet for a moment, soaking in the hot water and enjoying the intimacy of skin touching skin. “Do not let me hold you back. You are far too talented to ignore your heart.”

Jaskier turned around, the small bathtub not working with him. Your legs were already folded in half just to fit and now he was soaking the floor with bathwater to face you. One arm hung over your shoulder as he placed the other over your heart. “You are my heart. He may be my muse, but you are my love.” You cracked a smile. It felt like you were sharing your boyfriend with a man who was not only an asshole, but also not even present in your lives.

Your fake smile soon turned real as warm lips planted themselves onto yours. A hand on the back of your head kept you connected at the lips as Jaskier’s hand travelled south. He was already down to your abs when you stopped his hand with your own. The bard looked close to offended when he lifted his head away from yours. “Let’s get clean first,” you told him with a teasing smile.

After that, Jaskier made quick work of a scrub down to get the grime of the tavern and your day job off your bodies. He kissed you feverishly as he all but dragged you to the bed. Impatient hands pushed you down onto the thin mattress, but he did not allow you to drag him with you. With your lips finally separated, you could finally breathe, the hot air leaving your bodies forming small clouds in the air between you. “Let me stoke the fire before we get started.” He left you on the bed as he went to the fireplace and placed an extra few logs into the flames to heat up the room. You took the time to light a few more candles, casting your room in a warm orange glow.

When Jaskier turned to you, it was evident in his eyes that he had plans for you. You let him guide you onto your back with a pillow supporting your head. The oil that was usually meant for him was rubbed between his hands, before they caressed your balls. You sighed in pleasure as Jaskier gently rubbed and massaged your balls and cock. Your eyes fell closed as you let yourself go in the feeling of his hands on your sensitive bits.

When Jaskier moved away from his position between your knees, you opened your eyes. The first thing you saw was your boyfriend’s beautiful face hanging over you. You felt him rubbing the head of your cock over his slicked hole. ��Want me to…” You did not get to finish as Jaskier sank down on you, unbelievably tight. “Holy shit, Jask, you have not stretched.” He only took the tip, pushing it past the ring of muscles, only to pull it out again. You cursed as he fucked the head of your cock.

“I don’t need to, not anymore,” the artist spoke through his teeth. “Isn’t it beautiful how we just fit together?” His free hand caressed your cheek. “Dear heart, you are - oh fuck - irreplacable.” Your lips clashed together from time to time as Jaskier steadily fucked himself on your cock, taking in a little more every now and then. When he finally bottomed out, the whorish moan leaving him almost made you cum. “Melitele’s tits, I am so full,” Jaskier gasped. You watched his chest rise and fall. He was equally a work of art and an artist.

You let your hands run over his heated skin, fighting the urge to grab his hips and go to town on him. This was something Jaskier needed to do, as much for himself as for you. “Be careful, Jask, you’ve made your point,” you huffed as your fingers dug into the skin at his hip. He preened under your attention. You entered the house of the gods, when Jaskier moved with determination and enthusiasm. His hole was tight around your cock and the slide was a little rough.

Jaskier, being the demon descendant he was, knew exactly how to make you lose your mind. He touched you just right, made sure you were watching when he touched himself. His dirty mouth ran circles around your head when he filled the room with his filthy words. Way sooner than you had hoped for, you spilled your seed inside him. He milked every drop out of you, tightening his hole as he moved up and relaxing when he went down.

Like a ragdoll the brunet collapsed on top of you. You stroked his hair as you caught your breath. The wet strands got tangled up and you slowly combed them out with your fingers. Once you felt like you had a brain cell to spare, you kissed the forehead of the man on top of you. “You want me to finish you off with my mouth?” You whispered with a grin. To your surprise, Jaskier let out a negative noise. “You sure?” A tired hum confirmed that your bard was not up for moving anytime soon, in spite of his hard length pressing into your stomach. You smiled and pulled the blankets over your bodies. It was shortly after when Jaskier fell asleep to the sound of your heartbeat.

#jaskier #the witcher #julian alfred pankratz #jaskier x reader #jaskier x male reader #jaskier x you #jaskier x y/n #male reader

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jaskierswolf · 4 years

Text

A Storm Raging on the Horizon

They were in the middle of nowhere when the rain began to fall, days between the last town and the next. Geralt swore under his breath. He should have known that the storm was coming. The humidity had been almost suffocating all day and the black clouds had plunged the world into darkness. He cast Axii on Roach as she started to get restless, the last thing he wanted was to be thrown off his horse and into one of the muddy puddles that were forming on the path.

He glanced up at the sky thoughtfully.

At least the rain would smell good. Geralt loved the rain for that reason. It was only troublesome when they were so far away from proper shelter. There was no way to dry out their clothes until the rain stopped and Jaskier got cold quickly, especially if they couldn’t find proper firewood that wasn’t soaked. Not even Igni could help if the wood was sodden.

Geralt flicked the hood of his cloak and spurred Roach forwards with a gentle kick.

“This is just fucking brilliant.” Jaskier moaned and trotted to keep up with him. “You wouldn’t happen to have another cloak hidden away would you, only the rain is a teensy bit cold?”

“No.”

Jaskier sighed. “What about shelter? Any towns nearby? Caves, preferably not inhabited by any ghouls or anything?”

“Ghouls don’t live in caves.” Geralt rolled his eyes.

“Werewolves then!” Jaskier threw his hands up.

“Werewolves tend to live in villages, houses just like any other person.” Geralt reminded the bard.

“Oh fuck off.” Jaskier grumbled and ran in front of Roach, walking backwards so Geralt could see his unimpressed expression. “You’re always so pedantic, you know that right? And you still haven’t answered the question.”

Geralt smirked and tilted his head. He pulled on the reins and cantered around the bard. “There’s no shelter. We’ll have to make camp.”

Jaskier groaned. “Are you sure there’s no abandoned cottages close? You could make nice with a hedge witch. We both know how much you love witches.”

Geralt ignored the jab. “No cottages.”

“Bollocks.” Jaskier sighed.

The sky lit up brilliantly as electricity sparked between the clouds. Geralt always enjoyed watching the lightning. There was something quite mesmerising about watching it streak across the sky with the calming patter of rain in the background.

His companion clearly did not share his love of storms. Jaskier jumped and yelped as thunder rumbled up ahead. Not more than two seconds after the lightning, the storm was close. The bard’s scent soured and left a bitter taste in the back of Geralt’s throat.

“Jaskier?” Geralt asked slowing Roach to a stop.

“Ah, yes. I’m fine.” Jaskier stammered.

“Hmm.” Geralt furrowed his brow. He could hear Jaskier’s heart pounding in his chest. He dismounted Roach, landing on the ground with a squelch. He grabbed the back of Jaskier’s doublet and spun him around so he was facing him. The bard’s blue eyes were dark, pupils dilated and his hands were shaking.

Geralt took Jaskier’s hands in his to try and stop the trembling. Jaskier stammered unintelligibly and fidgeted, looking around at the sky.

“You’re afraid of thunder?” Geralt asked in a low voice, the one he used to calm Roach when she was panicking.

“Thunder, lightning, the whole ensemble really.” He squeaked just as another flash of lightning crackled across the sky, and Geralt suddenly found his arms full of trembling bard.

He frowned but wrapped his arms around Jaskier’s back, one hand stroking through his chestnut brown hair. It was already wet from the rain but Geralt hoped the motion might help to calm Jaskier’s nerves.

“There, there.” He grunted.

Jaskier whimpered. “Are you sure we can’t find somewhere? Maybe we’ll run into Yennefer and she can portal us out of here. She does have a habit of just popping up out of nowhere.” Jaskier mumbled into Geralt’s neck.

Geralt scowled and continued to stroke Jaskier’s hair. His heartbeat was still too fast and he reeked of fear. Geralt wondered if he should use Axii to calm his friend, it worked on Roach.

“Do you want me to…” He vaguely gestured with his hands, not that Jaskier could see with his face still planted firmly in Geralt’s neck.

Jaskier mumbled something that Geralt couldn’t make out. He rolled his eyes and pulled the bard off of him.

“Axii?” He asked with a tilt of his head. “It might help.”

Jaskier gaped at him and prodded him firmly in the chest. “No! Do not use your witcher magic on me.” He paused. “But thank you for asking.”

“I want to help.” Geralt huffed.

Jaskier pulled him into another hug as the sky lit up and there was a loud rumble up ahead. The rain was now pouring heavily and they were both soaked through, the water streaming down his face and catching in his eyelashes. He blinked hard to try and clear the rain from his eyes.

“Jaskier,” He murmured in the bard’s ear. “We need to set up camp.”

Jaskier’s scent sweeten slightly at the words, a faint whiff of honied chamomile.

Interesting.

“I need you to let go, Jask.” He hummed in a low voice.

Jaskier shook his head.

“Come on, Jask.” Geralt soothed. “It’ll be better once we’re under shelter.”

“What if the lightning hits the tent?” Jaskier grumbled.

“I won’t let that happen.” Geralt assured him.

To his surprise Jaskier managed a strained laugh. “White Wolf, you are capable of many things. Controlling lightning is not one of them.”

“How do you know?” Geralt teased. “Some ancient witcher magic.”

“Oh fuck off!” Jaskier groaned and then squeezed tighter as the lightning flashed around them.

Which gave Geralt an idea. He fumbled blindly in Roach’s saddlebags, trying to find an old shirt or bandage or something. It wasn’t easy with Jaskier clinging onto him. Eventually he pulled a scrap of fabric from his bag and pulled Jaskier off of him.

The bard protested but Geralt just spun him around and tied the bandages tightly around Jaskier’s head. He waved a hand in front of Jaskier’s face. “Can you see?”

“Can I see?” Jaskier asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Oh I don’t know, Geralt. Can I see? No of course I can’t see, some brute has blindfolded me!” He snapped.

Geralt grinned. “So you can’t see the lightning?” He asked slowly.

Jaskier’s mouth snapped shut.

“That’s what I thought.” Geralt smirked and manoeuvred the bard so he could hold onto Roach. “You two. Stay.”

“Geralt!” Jaskier whined.

“I need to make camp, quickly. If you hadn’t noticed there’s a storm and we need to get a fire going before it’s too late.” Geralt said firmly.

It didn’t take long to set up the tents under the trees near the path. He was hoping that if the lightning did choose to hit nearby then it would go for the trees rather than the shelter. An empty cave would have been ideal but he knew the area well and any caves around here would be occupied. He knew that one in particular was home to a family of trolls.

It took longer to find some firewood that hadn’t been soaked through but eventually he found some hidden in the roots of a tree. He could hear Jaskier singing loudly to Roach as the thunder continued to rumble in the sky. The ground shook underfoot and Geralt frowned. The storm really was right on top of them.

He was almost proud of his bard. The man clearly had an intense fear of the storm but he was handling it surprisingly well. It was… brave?

Geralt hadn’t thought of the bard as brave before. Stupid? Yes. Reckless? Absolutely, but never brave.

And yet Jaskier had not only let Geralt blind him, taking away one of his most vital senses as a human, but he’d also not completely freaked out when Geralt had left him alone with Roach. He watched Jaskier run his hands through Roach’s sodden black mane with newfound respect before walking over to them. His bard and his horse.

He took Jaskier’s hand gently. The bard didn’t even flinch.

“Geralt?”

“Yeah. It’s me. Come on.” Geralt murmured and took Roach’s reins in his other hand so he could lead them both to the camp.

The fire was crackling and Geralt had to keep blasting it with Igni to keep it from going out. By the time the storm had finally cleared, they’d stripped out of their wet clothes and huddled under a blanket from Roach’s saddlebags, perching at the edge of the tent. The sun had set about an hour ago and Jaskier was still blindfolded as he leant against Geralt’s shoulder, humming under his breath.

Geralt’s throat felt dry. He had been talking almost constantly since they��d sat down, trying to block out the sound of the thunder. He’d noticed that Jaskier’s scent warmed whenever he spoke. For some crazy unknown reason his voice seemed to make Jaskier less afraid.

It had taken a while to get used to Jaskier’s insistence on hugging him, even without their clothes on. The bard had no shame apparently. Geralt had tried not to look at his friend but he hadn’t quite managed to keep his eyes away from the surprisingly muscular torso, covered in thick brown hair. He’d felt a pang of guilt for looking when Jaskier was blinded but he couldn’t exactly take it back.

“Geralt?” Jaskier asked quietly.

Geralt frowned and realised he’d stopped talking.

“The rain’s stopped. You can take that off now.” He grunted.

Jaskier tilted his head and squeezed Geralt’s arm tighter. “Can you do it?”

Geralt was stunned by the vulnerability in Jaskier’s voice. Normally the bard was all quips, sarcasm and charm. Geralt nodded before remembering Jaskier couldn’t see him. “Alright. Turn around.”

Jaskier let go of his iron grip on Geralt’s arm and spun round. Geralt swallowed, his eyes roaming over the bare skin of the bard’s back. He still couldn’t quite process how Jaskier managed to hide all that muscle under doublets, how he managed to appear so small when in reality he wasn’t much leaner than Geralt.

He resisted the urge to kiss Jaskier’s exposed shoulder but he did lean forward to scent his neck. He told himself that he just wanted to make sure that Jaskier’s fear was gone, to make sure that only Jaskier’s natural honey and chamomile scent remained.

The bard tilted his head back as Geralt brushed his nose under Jaskier’s jaw.

“Geralt,” Jaskier sighed. “As surprising and delightful as this is. I would like to be able to see you again. I miss your grumpy face.”

Geralt scoffed. “Maybe I should have tied it around your mouth instead of your eyes.”

Jaskier laughed. It was melodic and beautiful, all traces of fright were gone. Geralt had never been so happy to hear the bard’s laughter. He reached up and pulled the knot loose. The blindfold fell into Jaskier’s lap.

“Ah fuck.” Jaskier groaned. “Has fire always been so bright? Geralt save me!” He spun round and buried his face in Geralt’s neck.

Geralt froze. Jaskier seemed to have either forgotten about the lack of clothing between them, or just didn’t care. Geralt guessed it was probably the latter. He sighed and let the bard cling onto him.

“Are you feeling better?” He asked softly.

Jaskier nodded. “Much. Thank you. I’m sorry.” He paused and pulled back to look Geralt in the eyes. After hours of not being able to see Jaskier’s eyes, Geralt was almost stunned by their beauty. They were glittering in the light of the fire. “I’m always a burden on you.” Jaskier smiled sadly.

Geralt huffed a laugh. Normally he would agree. Jaskier didn’t always make things easy on the path. Geralt had to adjust his whole routine to make sure the bard didn’t freeze to death or get mauled by a stray bear or monster, but in that moment Jaskier didn’t feel like a burden at all. He was just a man, who had been afraid of something as mundane as a storm, and he’d allowed Geralt to be there for him when he was most vulnerable.

He’d trusted Geralt.

He’d been less afraid… because of Geralt.

He stared back into Jaskier’s shining eyes so full of hope and wonder.

Geralt wasn’t good with words, not in moments like this, not like Jaskier was, or could be. So he did the only thing he could think of and cupped Jaskier’s face in his hands, pulling the bard into a kiss. Jaskier hummed in surprise but quickly wrapped fingers around the back of Geralt’s neck to stop him from pulling away.

Geralt smiled into the kiss. He’d not really known what to expect when he’d kissed Jaskier, he’d hoped for a favourable result but he was still amazed by Jaskier’s eagerness.

They would talk about it in the morning by the light of day, when their clothes had hopefully dried out and the magic from the fire had turned to embers, but for now he was just happy kissing his friend and letting all their fears and worries fade away.

#the witcher #geraskier #geraskier fanfiction #geralt of rivia #jaskier #jaskier pankratz #julian alfred pankratz #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #wolfie's witcher writing #thunderstorm #phobia #one shot #geralt/jaskier

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starshipsofstarlord · 3 years

Note

Could I request a Jaskier x female reader where the reader is a princess who during daylight, is condemned to be a bear, after being cursed by an evil sorcerer At night she become a human again. Which the curse can only be broken by a man (who would be Jaskier) who pledges his heart solely to the reader (something like true love’s kiss). Please and thank you!!!

Bruin

jaskier x reader

masterlist

Warnings; mentions of witcher killing, mentions of death and angst, curses, nudity, some fluff, implied smut

“G-Geralt.” Jaskier’s voice shivered, as he saw a great mountain of brunette fur, wading through the long grass, heavy breathing exhibiting from its wet snout. “There’s a bear!”

“If you’re that scared, try to speak quieter.” The Witcher’s speech remained monotone, as he continued walking, leaving the bard to catch up with his hardy footsteps. “We need to leave before nightfall, that is when the true monster is unleashed from the bruin vessel.”

“You kill monsters, we’ll be fine.” The bard waved off, though he was terrified, and Geralt was all but convinced with his dismissal. “We will, won’t we Geralt?”

“It’s bad luck to remain out here at night, it’s an old wives tale, however, no one survives the night out here. Not after the disappearance of the princess of Arafell.” Jaskier remembered that tale, he had even seen the princess at a banquet once when they were both young in age.

Neither of them had the opportunity to converse with one another that evening, it was the night she had ran away. and he certainly had regretted never asking her dance. Before that though, they had often strode through the gardens hand in hand, conversing on the beauty of the petals that veiled around the stems, and she, unlike most people, listened to his descriptive forms of poetry. Back then, he had been shy, and not to mention, she was of sought after royal blood. That evening was the last that anyone from the kingdom had ever been seen, after the slumber of eternity wept over their souls. One thing he severely remembered though, was that she loved dandelions.

The princess had ran away, leaving the king and queen in search of someone that could find her, and thus they hired a private sorcerer to complete their wishes. But instead of seeking out the lost girl, the old man took the gold and the lives of old, wallowing the land in distress that clambered into a delving of madness.

A shout bellowed from the bear, and Jaskier found him to “How long will it be til we reach the borders?”

“The bad luck will loom over us Jaskier, we will not make it out of here in the span of the next countless hours. There will be a moon in the sky, but perhaps we’ll be able to seek out cover in the old guard’s tower.”

“Where are we Geralt?” The brown haired poet feared to be met with the answer “What makes you think that we’ll survive the night?!”

“This is what remains of Arafell.” Stated the white haired hunter, as he continued to plod through the thick foliage beneath his dark boots. He stepped on the dull green life form, not encouraged to pursue any further into the depths as he heard the destination that they were travelling through.

“Arafell, great.” Huffed the irritating bard, clutching his lute as he spoke the haunting name. “There’s no need to be afraid, when you’re in the land of torn bodies, because the witcher is by your side. He’ll slash and dice, protect the mice, from the darkness that falls from above. The people are dead, I am filled with dread, in the land of Ar-afellll.”

“Stop singing.” Whenever there was any fault present in their adventures together, Jaskier had a tendency, wallowing similar like a pie without filling to sing. It shrouded Geralt with epitomised frustration, his betrothed follower sure knew how to pull his strings, it was as though he were a moral lute, a practice run of socialisation for the noble’s son.

“Sorry.” Apologised the traveller, with a shrug encompassed by a spark of coldness affecting his posture. There was a breeze, filled with the pinching of icicles in the air, and it clawed through his clothes, clashing with the meat blanketed warmth of his bones. “It’s just- we’re in bloody Arafell, or what remains of it, and you are so calm. Have you maybe perhaps forgotten what happened here?!”

“No. I was here when it queen Ara and her kingdom fell. And that bear has lurked every inch of these demolished castle lands searching for scraps, and if you cannot tell, it is almost night fall, and she has come up sufficiently short of anything, for all these decades.”

The listener frowned, bears did not live so long. It was a curious prospect, it remained loyal to these grounds, although it was empty. There had to be a reason why, a pattern that supposed why it, or she as Geralt had divulged, remained to lurk in the midst of the overgrown forestry. And then another thought (yes, Jaskier had the ability to do that despite what his protective travel mate may have wondered), hit him, like a bolt of lightning.

“Um, Geralt, where is the bear?” He gulped, hearing the rustling of the thick foliage metres behind them. The moon scourged the sky with its global presence, inducing another shot of ambient fear through Jaskier’s veins. “It was-“

“Shut up a moment.” It was almost impossible half the time to silence Jaskier, but this time, he actually obliged the command. Geralt drew his sword, the one that glistened a predominate silver and was made from the compound, clutching the handle in his vice and skilled grip, as his feet took him closer to the imposter that was imbedded within the weeds.

“Oh.” Jaskier covered his eyes, he couldn’t look as Geralt pointed the weapon at the beasts throat; a whimper escaped it as Geralt took a step back, alerting his companion. “Kill it Geralt, it’s a bear, it’s going to kill us.”

“It was a bear.” Geralt elaborated as he watched the beast transform and lose its course coat of brown fur, turning into a less monstrous beast. It was only a girl, with unruly and wild hair that was matted in all directions, her face contorted into fear. “Of whom are you, my lady?”

“A witcher.” It trailed from her lips as a whisper, her tone alerting Jaskier that it indeed was not a bear, rather it was a woman, laid on the forest ground, in nothing but her own layers of skin. His eyes widened for a moment, until he earned an elbow in the rib from his friend for his long and convicted ogling. “I have only heard legends but...

“You speak english?” Jaskier wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, hinting at his subsequent misunderstanding of the situation. “but you were a bear?!” This was all growing more confusion with each passing second, there were too many angles of the world.

“I’m cursed.” It was an easy consequence to admit, for the lady of the worlds already lived through them. “Each day, I am forced to pad about in the brute body of a bruin, a sorcerer brought by darkness himself to this dimension damned me to this abomination, his name was-“

“Lament.” From hearing that name, the woman on the ground was taken aback as the women, trying to prevail some decency, attempted to cover her breasts with her arms, as she crossed her legs over one another. “Your parents sent me to find you, lady. I came up empty handed in my search for you, there was no trail that I managed to find, nothing that would point in your direction. And that night, as I returned with short of nothing of any news of your whereabouts, Lament was there.”

“He killed them all, didn’t he. My family?” The answer didn’t require any verification from Geralt, the solemn, yet usual expression on the Witcher’s face was all the confirmation that she needed. “Of course he did, he’s a poisonous shadow, when he finds something he wants, he takes away its home, so that it can’t run back to the hearth whence it came from. I regret every running away from home...”

“Wait a moment.” This was all beginning to add up in some mind boggling way. Jaskier flitted his gaze aside for a moment as Geralt pulled a fine blanket from his luggage, knowingly seeing the movement out of the corner of his curious eye that she was pulling the material that conducted warmth over her shoulders, and across her sachet of flaunted skin.

"Shut up Jaskier." Instantaneously stated the bard, whom had returned his cerulean gaze back upon the y/h/c woman, depositing a composition of interest to her form.

"You're the princess of Arafell, aren't you. Y/n, it's you, isn't it?" Y/n's expression was one of shock; how did this man know of her identity? She understood how the witcher did, though with considering he was condemned with the duty of finding her. The brunette man was slightly familiar, and so he revealed why that was. “it’s Julian.” Jaskier held his hand to his chest, almost hurt that you didn’t recognise him, but it had been years, so many, none of which had been kind to you. “My name is Julian Alfred Pankratz.”

“Dandelion!” The reprised title spun from y/n's tongue, remembering the nickname that she had given the now gentleman all those years ago, when he was nothing more than a persisting boy that made her flash an unashamed laughter in the midst of poised quality showrooms of noble gatherings. "I remember you." She dwelled on the fact, if she weren't clothed in only a shrill and frayed blanket that was pebbled with small dots of soil, from where it had been laid on the ground, y/n surely would have jumped up and spun her arms around his 'sexy goose' neck.

"You've got to be kidding me, it is just my luck that the pair of you know each other." Geralt crossed his arms, shaking his sleek silver head, being deprived of attention as he spoke. "Is there any way to get yourself out to get you out of this prospected curse of turning into a bear, y/n?"

"To be betrothed to a man, confirmed with a kiss resonating true love, though, nobody with any sense would put themselves in that position for me, there is no wealth to my name anymore, nor is there relevance with my heritage, for there is nothing that remains, as you have confirmed for me. This man must certainly be one of a kind, for he has to pledge his loyalty solely to me, forbidding himself from ever being with another woman again."

The mention of a lack of sense reminded Geralt of one man in particular, and he was stood right beside him. But it couldn't have been Jaskier, of all people, and- Geralt found himself overcome with dread as the bard stepped forward, crunching his shoed feet into the withered grass, closer to the rediscovered princess.

"I have waited my whole life to see you again." Oh god, here he went, Geralt thought. "When we were younger, I was infatuated with you, and here we are, united again in a union. If my betrothal means nothing then you will remain in this shrine of gloom, but to me, it would mean everything to me."

"Y/N come on, have some sense, it-" There was lack of reason for Geralt to continue speaking, as y/n sprung up, the blanket flowing down from her shoulders, baring her body cold to the crisp air, as her hands clasped both sides of Jaskier's face, and pressed her lips to his.

The witcher cringed, turning away as the pair practically ate the other's face, like starved animals that had been distanced for many years, which in their case was true. "Do you know if the curse is broken, is there any indicator if so?"

A hum fell from y/n's mouth as Jaskier's hand traced the curve of her spine, causing Geralt to scoff. That was the only response he earned, and to a high stake, it disgusted him. "I think I'm just gonna let you two have some time to yourselves, I guess we will see in the morning if you're being mawled by a bear you flippant."

And thus he walked away, leaving the two to pursue their primitive instincts, under the blessed moon, and on the routed curfew on the dark and dead land of Arafell.

#jaskier imagine #jaskier x reader #jaskier x you #jaskier fluff #jaskier fic #jaskier oneshot #jaskier x y/n #jaskier imagines #jaskier one shot #jaskier fanfiction #Jaskier reader insert #the witcher x you #The witcher jaskier x reader #the witcher x reader #joey batey x you #joey batey x reader #the witcher fluff

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bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher · 4 years

Text

Don’t Take the Money

(cross-posted from my AO3 and based on the Bleachers song of the same name; you should give it a listen ‘cause it definitely shaped this story)

-vomit tw, depression tw, lots of angst and emotional whump with a happy ending, of course-

Jaskier had received six urgent messages in three weeks, each delivered by a different exhausted messenger in the same oddly familiar livery. They showed up outside of inns, in the corner of taverns, and one of them even had to trek through the deep woods to find their hidden campsite; Geralt almost felt bad for them. Almost.

After the seventh strange man appeared with a scroll for Jaskier, the bard didn’t even bother reading it. He merely tossed the rolled and sealed piece of parchment into a refuse pile on their way out of town and didn’t look back. Geralt picked it up when the bard wasn’t paying attention, letting his eyes scan the fancy, swirling script of the Viscountess Pankratz.

Julian Alfred Pankratz,

Return home immediately! Your wedding cannot be put off any longer! Lady Ainsley will not wait another month for your foolish adventures with that Witcher to come to an end. If you do not return for your wedding in three weeks time then you shall be officially disowned and your name will be stricken from the family records.

With Urgency,

Lady Pankratz

Geralt swallowed hard. Jaskier was betrothed? He was to be married in three weeks? But they weren’t anywhere near Redania. Or Lettenhove. Jaskier had never mentioned anyone by the name of Lady Ainsley before, or anything about his past if he could avoid it. Did that mean...?

“Why aren’t you going?” the Witcher asked. Jaskier whirled around, his eyebrow already raised in confusion; he went three shades paler than normal when he saw the limp paper hanging from Geralt’s fingers. “We’re not even remotely close to your hometown and we’re traveling in quite the opposite direction.”

Jaskier made a face and waved his hand dismissively.

“I know. I don’t want to marry her.”

“Why don’t you want to marry her? They’re going to disown you, Jaskier. Isn’t this” - he shook the letter for emphasis - “the life you’re used to living, anyway? You should go home and be with...with someone like you .”

“What’s that supposed to mean, Geralt? You think I belong with someone foppish? Loud? Annoying?” The bard was spitting mad already. The Witcher had touched on a sore spot, apparently. “Should I be with someone more breakable and human and petty?”

“Don’t you want- aren’t you-”

“C’mon big boy, use that fantastic Witcher brain of yours. Figure it out.”

Geralt didn’t understand.

“Wouldn’t you be happier with her than on the Path with me?”

Jaskier looked...hurt. His expression changed from indignant to heartbroken in the measure of time that occurred between split seconds. It did something awful in the Witcher’s gut. Something unfamiliar and painful. The bard’s next words were barely above a whisper. Even with his enhanced hearing Geralt had to focus hard: “Would you prefer me to be married off and out of your way?”

“No, that’s not what I-”

“I don’t even know what we’re even getting at here, Geralt. I’m sorry. I can return home if you’d like. If I send a messenger first thing tomorrow then the family’s hired mage can portal me back in time for the wedding.”

“Jaskier,” the Witcher was pleading. He didn’t know why or for what, but the pitch of his voice left room for no other possible interpretation. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

“Then don’t ask me to marry her, Geralt.”

The Witcher dropped the letter back onto the refuse pile and shoved it deeper with the tip of his boot. Jaskier’s bright smile returned and the soft notes of his lute filled the air once again. For some inexplicable reason Geralt felt triumphant. As if he’d won a battle he didn’t know he’d been fighting against an enemy he’d never met before.

---

“Are you Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf?” a well-dressed stranger asked, approaching the table where the Witcher was seated. It had been a week since his and Jaskier’s argument over the summons. Neither one had brought it up again and the bard had seemed almost unusually affectionate since. The amount of casual touching they did had significantly increased, even when the sun set and it was growing close to bedtime. Jaskier seemed to be happy touching Geralt and the Witcher had no reason to complain; he liked knowing that his best friend wasn’t scared of him.

He regarded the messenger with a suspicious gaze, “Aye. I am Geralt of Rivia.”

“I have a contract for you.” The man slid a piece of paper across the table and folded himself into the chair across from Geralt’s. The pattern stamped into the red wax seal was familiar but the Witcher couldn’t quite remember where he’d seen it before. His strange visitor smiled benignly, “It doesn’t even involve killing.”

“Then why hire a Witcher? That’s kind of our schtick.”

“This agreement is of a more personal nature,” the man shrugged, leaning back in his chair and waiting for Geralt to read his missive. The Witcher took the delicate stationary in his large hands and unfolded it until he could see the printed words:

To Sir Geralt of Rivia,

Witcher and Friend of Julian Alfred Pankratz

We, the Pankratz Family, come to you and offer this agreement:

Return Julian safely to our ancestral home within two weeks and you shall be paid the sum of 1500 crowns. Consider it a bodyguarding mission, if you so desire.

You are also formally invited to attend the wedding of Julian Alfred Pankratz of Lettenhove to the Countess Ainsley DeStael of Rinde, which will occur three days after your mission ends.

In order to complete the job and claim your payment, however, you must leave the wedding party without Julian at your side and return to your Witcher duties alone. He isn’t cut out for such a hard life on the road. He is of noble blood and has responsibilities here at home. Please return him to his kind of people and claim your coin in recompense.

Sincerely,

Francois Reginald Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove

Constantina Charlotte Pankratz, Lady de Lettenhove

Geralt glanced up from the contract and out into the main dining room where Jaskier was currently jigging atop one of the surprisingly sturdy tables. The bard’s smile was bright, his voice was strong and clear as he sang of lovers meeting in secret, and his blue eyes twinkled with joy. He loved the attention of performing. How could Geralt take that away from him, even if he would be safer at home? Even if he would be married to another, spending his time with another, caring for another…

But didn’t Geralt care about Jaskier? Isn’t that why he’d risked life and limb over and over to keep the bard safe? Because Geralt loved him? He pushed the thought away with haste and tried to keep his expression neutral. His amber eyes strayed to the upturned hat at Jaskier’s feet. People had been depositing coins there all night and a rather decent pile had sprung up but -

But he could be doing better, Geralt thought. He could be taking a warm bath every night and buying expensive oils from real apothecaries and not sketchy traveling salesmen. He could be dressing in silk every day and never complain about having to wear a woolen doublet for warmth again. He could sleep next to a fire in a real feather-bed. With blankets. He could stay healthy and safe and never go near another angry monster for all his days.

Something in the Witcher’s heart withered and died when he realized just how much he’d been holding Jaskier back; something important. Something the bard had helped him cultivate over six long years of traveling together. In an instant the Witcher had hidden it away in a dark corner to die.

“Alright.”

“Huh,” the messenger smirked. “They thought it would take more bribery to get you to agree, Witcher.”

“It’s not about the crowns,” Geralt shrugged, gaze flitting back up to Jaskier. The bard’s twinkling cornflower-blue eyes met with his and Geralt quickly glanced away, already ridden with guilt and shame over his decision. “It’s about making him happy and keeping him safe.”

“If I didn’t know any better about your kind and their lack of feelings,” the messenger snorted, “I’d say you might even love the Little Lord Pankratz.”

“If I didn’t know any better about myself,” Geralt replied, “I might agree.”

“See you in two weeks, then. Hope you can make it to Redania in time.”

“Why not just portal us there? Jaskier said his family had a hired mage.”

“Busy with wedding preparations,” the man shrugged. “Anyway, I must be going. The Viscount and her Ladyship are eager to hear your reply. See you soon, I’m sure.”

The stranger stood, bowed, and disappeared back to Lettenhove with the signed contract. Geralt swallowed back a mouthful of bile. He hated himself. He really did. But this is what’s best for Jaskier.

---

“Who was that, earlier at the table?” the bard asked. He was lounging on the bed with a tin of lute polish in one hand and a rag in the other. “Did he have a contract?”

“Yes. In Redania, actually.”

“Oh, lovely! It’s almost time for the summer festivals to begin; I can show you the best alehouse in all of Novigrad while we’re there.”

“My job is near Lettenhove. Do you want to go with me?”

“Sure. Might be fun to swing by my old stomping grounds. This doesn’t have anything to do with my canceled wedding, does it?” the bard shot him a pointed look. Geralt schooled his features into some sort of passivity and shook his head.

“Vampires rarely attend the weddings of minor nobility,” the Witcher lied through his teeth.

“Vampires, huh? Nifty. Haven’t had one of those to write about in awhile.”

“Hmm.”

---

“Geralt, help! Geralt, please! GERALT!”

The Witcher tossed and turned, unable to sleep. He kept hearing Jaskier’s raw, heartbroken voice ringing in his ears. He could still smell the desperation and panic that clung to the bard’s soft skin as he struggled to get away from his captors. To get back to where the Witcher stood with Roach and the gatekeeper. Geralt kept imagining those eyes, those fucking beautiful eyes, brimming with tears of betrayal as a liveried servant handed him a velvet pouch stuffed fat with crowns. Oh gods, the way his bard had looked at him…Geralt shoved his head out the window and vomited. There was nothing but the sour sting of bile against his tongue and the back of his throat. He heaved in a breath but choked back the sob threatening to come with it.

“Please don’t leave me here, Geralt! Don’t take the money! I’ll be better, I promise! I won’t talk as much, I won’t touch Roach again, I won’t write any ballads about you, Geralt please, I lo-”

The guards had dragged Jaskier inside and slammed the heavy oak door shut before he could finish his sentence, but the Witcher had gotten the general idea. The bard thought he was doing this out of hatred and not out of the sincerest, purest love Geralt had ever felt. He thought this was a punishment and not a slightly backwards form of rescue. If only the bard could understand.

Jaskier’s love wasn’t unrequited.

The bard stole the very breath from Geralt’s lungs every time their eyes met. Every time Jaskier crowed with pride after finishing a new song about their adventures together the Witcher felt his icy heart melt a little more. Each casual brush of their hands as they walked side-by-side sent his emotions reeling. The way his exuberant bard looked as he strolled beside Roach, the sunshine bringing out streaks of dark red in his chestnut hair and lightening the embroidery on his travel jerkin, it was ethereal. Magical. Overwhelming in all the best ways.

And he’d given it all away for a measly pouch of a coin and a slightly clearer conscious. Or was it?

Geralt retched again as he came to another realization.

He had forced Jaskier into something he didn’t want. Geralt had always given his friend free reign. The younger man came on and off the Path like a bee between flowers, visiting and traveling with the Witcher when he pleased and leaving again for odd jobs or festivals when Geralt wasn’t in the mood for company. But he’d given him no choice about the marriage. No, he’d wrestled Jaskier to the ground and bound his hands. He’d gagged him. He’d flung the bard into Roach’s saddle and tied his crossed wrists to the pommel so he couldn’t pick the knots free and escape. He’d passed Jaskier off to the guards and watched them drag him away as he spit out the gag and started yelling.

As he confessed his love to Geralt after six long years on the Path together.

Fucking hells, what have I done to him?

The suddenly panicked Witcher tumbled from his rented bed and reached for his boots. There was no time to spare. There was no time to waste.

There was only Jaskier.

---

Jaskier couldn’t believe it.

After all this time. After all their adventures. After all the songs he’d written and rooms he’d gotten them at comfortable inns, this is how the Witcher repaid him. Trading him back to his parents for a bag of coin like he was some sort of slave or whore.

He was a bard.

He was Geralt’s bard.

Well, he used to be Geralt’s bard. Now he was going to be Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove and Lord of Rinde by marriage.

He wished he could just stop breathing and disappear. His heart thudded dully in his chest and it felt as if he was floating several feet below the surface of deep water. He was unable or unwilling to surface; maybe both. There was no point anymore, really. Geralt, the only person he’d ever really loved, had trussed him up like a market goose and traded him for silver.

The food his family’s servants brought him laid mostly untouched. He knew how to eat just enough to keep from dying. He’d been in plenty of dungeons and bandit camps before. Jaskier had spent six years following the Witcher’s Path and surviving off of whatever Geralt caught or he traded for. There was no reason to eat any more than what he needed to keep his body alive. There was no reason to get out of bed. Or bathe. Or change clothes. These clothes still smelled like the road. Like lute polish and chamomile oil and Roach and mud and Geralt.

“Please,” his mother begged, clasping his limp hand in both of hers. She’d been sitting at his bedside for maybe an hour, watching him stare listlessly up into the green velvet canopy above him. “Just eat something substantial. Say something. Do something, Julian. We know you aren’t happy with us or our decision but you can’t just lay here all day and wallow in self-pity. You have responsibilities to take care of; Ainsley has grown worried and her father is impatient.”

“The wedding is tomorrow,” he’d replied. There was no emotion in his voice and the monotony was soothing to his own ears. Geralt didn’t like it when he got too excited. Best to be calm and quiet like a good little noble. “I will be presentable. I will be at the altar. I will do my duty for the family.”

“Thank you, Julian.”

“But I will not love her.”

“You never have to love her,” his mother smiled. She gave his hand another small pat before standing and moving towards the door. Her job here was done, after all. “We only need you to marry her.”

---

Geralt pounded up the steps of the keep two-at-a-time. His usually slow heartbeat was now pounding in his ears like a warlord’s drum. He had to save Jaskier, he had to - the door slammed open and something hard went flying into his chest, knocking him back a step. The Witcher reached out a hand to steady the person he’d collided with but his amber eyes were still focused on the castle’s front door. He moved to step around the stranger and into the building when they suddenly spoke. The bard’s voice was pitchy and low from crying all morning: “Geralt?”

“Jaskier?” the Witcher gasped. His grip tightened around the younger man’s upper arm. “Are you okay?”

“Am I okay?” Jaskier looked truly flabbergasted. His expression shifted from shock to anger quickly, however, and the hurt in those blue eyes nailed Geralt to the ground where he stood. “Am I OKAY? You absolute fucking moron; of course I’m not okay. The love of my life tied me up, handed me over to my horrible fucking family like a Beltane offering, and disappeared into the night with a fat bag of crowns. The one person I love most in this world, the only person I’d ever trust with my life or my lute, treated me like a transaction of some sort. I am very much not okay, Geralt of Rivia! Now pick me up, take me to Roach, and get me the fuck out Lettenhove before I have to marry that horrible, terrible, hideous woman!”

The Witcher cracked a smile. Jaskier jabbed a finger into his chest and frowned even more deeply. “Why the fuck are you smiling, Witcher?”

“Because I missed the sound of your voice.”

The bard blushed, his righteous anger faltering.

“I love you too,” Geralt added. Jaskier’s eyes somehow grew even rounder and more watery. “I’m so fucking sorry but I didn’t know how else to protect you. I thought that maybe after coming home and seeing how much nicer it was than being on the Path you might want to stay here and be safe. Live your life normally. I thought you’d be happier here than you were with me. You’d certainly wouldn’t be hurt as often.”

“Did you just say that you love me?”

“Yes.”

“Did you hear me say that I love you, mere moments ago?”

“Yes.”

“Then why the fuck would you try to get rid of me?” The Witcher tried not to flinch when Jaskier placed a gentle hand against his cheek. He’d expected a slap. A kick to the shin. A knee to the groin. Screaming. He hadn’t expected that look of soft understanding to dawn on Jaskier’s boyish face. Despite the knowing sparkle in his eyes, the bard’s voice was sad. “Caged birds never sing, Geralt. What an awful cage it would have been; I'd never see my handsome Witcher again. I'd never attend another royal wedding as entertainment. I'd never write another line of song, much less be able to sing it. I would have been miserable Geralt. I probably would have died much sooner here than I would on the Path.”

“Can you ever forgive me?”

“As soon as you do as I say and get me the hell out of here, then yes, I’ll consider forgiving you, Witcher.”

“Well I suppose we shouldn’t waste any time.”

Geralt flung the bard up and over his shoulder and took off back down the steps at a sprint. He wasn’t going to let those people have his darling Jaskier back. Not if they tried to cage him and take his voice. He knew better now. He understood.

They loved each other.

The bard was laughing brightly, bouncing along as Geralt made for the stables. He could see his family exiting the Great Hall and making their way in his direction. It didn’t matter. They’d never catch up with his Witcher. He shot them several naughty hand gestures and grinned widely when Geralt swung them both up into Roach’s saddle. “Sorry girl,” he apologized. “Time for our daring escape into the woods.”

---

"Fifteen hundred crowns, huh?" Jaskier asked, eyeing the hefty purple velvet bag.

"Actually there are only fourteen hundred left," Geralt shrugged. He reached into his saddlebag and brought out a small leather pouch, which he handed to Jaskier. The bard opened it, peered inside, and gasped in very genuine surprise.

"Geralt..."

"Do you like it?" the Witcher was worrying his bottom lip between his teeth in the cutest way. Jaskier wanted to answer but his heart was caught somewhere between his throat and his stomach so he couldn't quite form words. He nodded.

"Can you help me put it on?"

"There's no clasp. They aren't meant to have clasps."

"I know."

Geralt's heart soared as he lifted his gift for Jaskier out of the bag and lowered it over his head. The medallion rested just between his collarbones, framed by a tuft of the bard's chest hair. It was a copy of Geralt's wolf medallion, only this wolf held a flower in its mouth. Gently, as if unwilling to break the stem or let it go.

"It's perfect," the bard beamed. His eyes were watery and he blinked the tears free to keep staring at his new jewelry. "Thank you."

"Hmm."

"What do you want to do with the rest of the money?"

"I don't know," the Witcher shrugged. "Maybe go to the coast?"

"I've always wanted to go there!"

Geralt pressed a tender kiss against Jaskier's lips, reveling in the sensation of his bard melting against his chest. They'd spent the last few nights wrapped around each other, whispering secrets and stories into each others mouths until sleep overtook them. Tonight would be no different, except that now Jaskier felt truly safe. He felt loved. He felt utterly surrounded by the happiness that came with being on the Path next to his Witcher. "What are you thinking about, little lark?"

"I'm glad you came back for me. I'm glad we're together now."

"Hmm. Me too."

#geraskier fic #geraskier #geraskier fanfic #geralt x jaskier #geraskier whump #geralt of rivia whump #jaskier whump #geraskier hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort #geralt/jaskier #emotional hurt/comfort #h/c fic #the witcher fanfic #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher netflix

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twiistedgalaxies · 4 years

Text

Three Times Jaskier Didn’t Seem Quite Human

(And one time Geralt asked too many questions.)

“Jaskier isn’t human,” Yennefer stated bluntly, swishing a wine glass in her right hand.

Geralt blinked, “What?” This gave Yennefer pause. She knew that her on and off again lover was oblivious, but she hadn’t realized it was quite to this extent. Jaskier gave her a pained, pleading look from the other end of the table. She ignored him.

“You seriously haven’t noticed?” she continued with a huff.

“...No?” Geralt’s brows furrowed together in confusion. The nerve of these idiots. Yennefer had half a mind to just state the obvious, to keep these two from continuing to dance around the subject, possibly until the end of time.

But it was much more fun to gently direct Geralt to the answer and watch his bard squirm. Yennefer took a sip of her wine, mentally cursing her high alcohol tolerance, “You’ve been travelling with the man for decades,” Geralt’s face was blank, the puzzle pieces not fitting into place, “He hasn’t aged, Geralt.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” he protested, though from the way his eyes shifted towards his companion he was clearly thinking it over. If they were not at such a high profile party Yennefer would have strangled him. He opened his mouth to say something else, but it was at that exact moment that Jaskier decided to pick up his lute and perform for the crowd - granted, it was what he had been invited to do, but Yennefer sent him a withering glare anyways. She was met with a cheeky wink. Oh if looks could kill.

“I could prove it to you, you know? A few well placed detection spells and-”

Geralt shook his head, “He’ll tell me when he’s ready.”

“You two are hopeless,” Yennefer sighed.

-@~*^*~@-

It had been after a particularly difficult hunt, when Jaskier had to dress his companion’s wounds for the umpteenth time. Geralt sat upon a stool in the center of their tiny room at the inn. He looked more irritated than usual as Jaskier gave him what was essentially a sponge bath around where a kikimore had stabbed his shoulder with one of it’s spindly arms. Jaskier winced, it was too close to important organs for comfort. Humming as he worked, Jaskier tried to stitch shut what he could and thoroughly bandage the rest. The wolf medallion on Geralt’s chest thrummed contentedly each time the bard’s delicate hands drew near.

“Where did you learn?” he asked suddenly, his gruff voice cutting through the peaceful quiet.

“Hm?” Jaskier hummed, ignoring the Witcher’s grunt of pain as he applied one of his many salves to his shoulder, “You’re going to have to be more specific than that, dear.”

“The salves, the stitching, all of it,” Jaskier raised an eyebrow at that, but Geralt continued, “It’s a very odd skill for a bard to have.”

A laugh, Geralt had to bite back a hiss as Jaskier’s touches grew less gentle. He clearly wanted him to drop it. “What? Do you think that I was helpless before you came along with your bulging muscles and witchery glares?”

The witcher shook his head, silver hair sending droplets of water in the air, “No it’s not that,” the bard had certainly proved capable and skilled many times over, “It’s just, were you a healer before you became a bard?”

Jaskier froze, seemingly caught in a memory, “Something like that,” he began to bandage Geralt’s shoulder, “This kikimore did quite the number on you, didn’t it?”

Geralt gave him a look of disbelief because obviously.

“Come on, come on, give me the details, I can’t write my ballads off of just grunts and intrusive questions now can I?”

-@~*^*~@-

Jaskier had tagged along on what was supposed to be a minor contract. Nilfgaard had stormed a small town, leaving destruction and countless corpses in their wake. Corpses that were perfect for every Alghoul in a three mile radius.

He and Geralt were engaged in their usual banter (which consisted mostly of Jaskier rambling about whatever was on his mind, punctuated with the occasional grunt from his witcher), when a sudden, piercing screech rang through the air. It was high pitched, shrill, and caused Jaskier to clutch his head as he let out a groan of pain.

Meanwhile, Geralt immediately leapt into action, drawing his silver sword as a pack of the necrophages surrounded them. He was able to take out several, his sword and the ghouls creating a smooth, gory dance. It all seemed to be going well before an Alghoul caught Geralt off guard, leaping onto his back while extending its spines. This sent Geralt off balance, and he was quickly overwhelmed. His sword got knocked out of his hands in the scuffle and he thought that this, however stupid it may be, would be what would kill him.

A cry of rage. Slashing, tearing. Suddenly the weight that was dragging Geralt to the ground grew lighter. He felt something wet and sticky. Geralt looked up to see Jaskier standing over him, holding Geralt’s silver sword, out of breath, and covered in Alghoul viscera.

The bard looked down at himself, annoyance on his admittedly handsome features, “That was my favorite tunic too!” The tunic in question, once baby blue (like his eyes which were now flashing gold, what the fuck?) was now stained red and black. Jaskier brushed a bit of entrails off his shoulder, visibly disgusted.

“Huh?” Geralt said, intelligently.

-@~*^*~@-

The pair was making their way north, Jaskier strumming on his lute and Geralt sat atop Roach. The dirt road was a tunnel bordered by a wall of towering trees, whose orange and red canopies blocked out the sun, casting the duo in dappled shade.

Jaskier strummed a few chords in the major key, before he spoke, “Geralt, are you doing alright?” His face was soft and forget-me-not eyes distant like they often grew when he was lost in thought. Geralt shot him a confused look. “It’s just that, you’ve seemed rather distracted lately.”

“Hm?”

“I,” Jaskier sighed, collecting himself, “It’s just with the kikimore and the alghouls, and just last week when you forgot your potions in Roach’s saddlebags. I’ve never seen you get like this before, what’s going on?”

“It’s nothing.” Geralt replied, gaze sliding to anywhere but his bard.

Jaskier reached up, intertwining his lithe fingers with Geralt’s own, “I’m worried about you, Love.”

Geralt huffed, he could never resist the man’s pouting lips and puppy-dog eyes, “Yen and I had a conversation at that party a few months ago.”

He felt the bard tense, “Is that so?” There was a long, uncomfortable silence between them. Jaskier must have realized Geralt, man of few words that he is, wasn’t going to elaborate any further, so he spoke, “What did you two talk about?”

“She said you aren’t human and I just thought about it more and… it makes too much sense,” Geralt began, feeling awkward as he tried to find the words to explain, “The way you don’t age, your medical knowledge (even of witcher potions!), how you know your way around a sword and how your eyes gleamed-”

“Geralt, as you know I have an impeccable skincare routine and-”

He frowned, “Don’t give me that shit, bard.”

Jaskier sighed, “You really want to know?” A nod. “Okay, well, here goes nothing.” The bard let go of the witcher’s hand, and pulled off a golden ring that, now that Geralt thought about it, he had never seen the man without. A shimmer fell over the bard’s body, like a statue being unveiled. The first thing Geralt noticed was his eyes, they were a sickening, piercing yellow. His face was marred by countless scars, from claws, burns, knives, and magic. Jaskier’s build underneath the glamour more closely resembled Geralt’s, though he retained his shorter stature. The bard smiled sardonically at the witcher’s shocked expression, “Like what you see?”

Geralt’s mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again, “How?”

“You’d probably know me better as Julian,” Jaskier’s eyes got that distant look to them again, his face was downcast, an unusual expression for someone who typically embodied sunshine, “I was in the Griffin school, before we were attacked,” a joyless laugh, “I had never wanted to be a witcher, ya know? Wasn’t cut out for it. But my father, Viscount Pankratz himself, couldn’t pay a witcher for his contract, so he offered me up instead. I failed as a noble, so maybe I wouldn’t fail as a witcher. He was wrong, of course, I spent most of my time writing poems instead of studying Signs. Singing instead of sparring. After the trials I spent a few years on the path before I grew sick of it and returned to Kaer Seren.”

Geralt hummed, encouraging Jaskier to continue.

“I was made to look after the students, I had to patch up their wounds and keep them from blowing themselves up with alchemy. I loved the little rascals, which is why..” Jaskier trailed off, fingers tracing the grooves in his lute.

“It’s okay,” Geralt said, “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

He shook his head hurriedly, “No, no I want to, I have to,” his voice cracked, “I left after the trials killed them. All of them. I couldn’t bear to be a part of it. A part of everything. So I ran, like a coward,” He spat out that last word like a curse.

The pair stopped. Geralt placed his gloved hand on the bard’s shoulder, a rare gesture of affection and reassurance.

“Eventually, I found a mage and spent my life’s savings on a well-made glamour and the lute the elves at Posada so lovingly destroyed. It wasn’t until I had graduated from Oxenfurt that I found out what happened in Kaer Seren.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Geralt asked, his voice gentle.

Jaskier’s face flushed red with shame, “I was afraid. Afraid of what you would think of me. That you’d hate me.”

Geralt frowned, “I don’t hate you. I could never hate you.”

At that, Jaskier laughed, “Just look at me! I’m an ugly fuck-up.”

“No,” Geralt said resolutely.

“Huh?”

“I said no. Do you know how many times you’ve saved my life? Made long nights on the path easier to bear? I wouldn’t be here right now if it weren’t for you,” Geralt continued, looking Jaskier directly in the eyes. He didn’t reply to that, just slipped his ring back on and hugged his arms to his chest.

The rest of the day’s journey was spent in silence.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed! Feel free to leave a comment, I love hearing feedback. I had one hell of a time writing this, I originally had only written the first scene, and it took a few months for my single window's screensaver brain cell to finally hit a corner and figure out how to continue and finish the story.

Ao3

#The Witcher #The Witcher netflix #the witcher fanfiction #fanfiction #fic #ao3 #ff.net #geraskier #geralt #jaskier #geralt x jaskier #witcher!jaskier #feral jaskier #yennefer #dandelion #netflix #non-human jaskier

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relenafanel · 4 years

Text

Dicks (in every definition): a fake-relationship AU

Geralt/Jaskier

Find it on Ao3: Dicks (in every definition) by relenafanel

FOR THE MODERN AU CHALLENGE. WEEK 1: Fake-Relationships

Tag: witcherauseptember

________

“I can’t believe anyone could be such an unmitigated puss-filled dick,” Essi said, staring at her phone in disbelief. Jaskier groaned and let his head thunk on the bar.

“I can.” His sticky forehead was the least disgusting part of the evening. He'd just come out to forget his ex, and maybe celebrate being free a little (as fucked up as that was) and quite frankly felt attacked by his social media.

“If I believed it from anyone it would be that narcissist,” she conceded, biting on her lip.

“I know,” Jaskier agreed. “That’s the worst part. I feel like it’s my fault being blindsided by this, as though I should have known something was going to happen today.”

Essi snorted. “It’s not your fault your ex is the worst.”

“No, but I was with him for almost 3 years. I don’t know. That’s my fault.”

“Don’t be stupid,” she said. “Look at this desperate fucker. Do you actually think he’s winning? He might be in a new relationship but the look of this guy makes my vagina want to shrivel up and die.”

Jaskier took her phone from her and looked again. Yeah. Yikes. Valdo was definitely scraping the bottom of the barrel with that one. Jaskier hadn’t even tried to join any dating sites post-breakup, but he was pretty sure there were better options. It wasn’t even the guy’s looks so much as he just screamed skeevy douchebag. It was making Jaskier’s metaphorical vagina also want to die.

“You need to get drunk. Maybe laid.”

“No,” Jaskier said, an idea starting to form as he looked at the relationship status change. “No. I need to match pettiness with pettiness. I need to find someone so hot that I’d have trouble getting him - let alone Valdo with his sad, small dick - and make sure to post a picture on Facebook.”

“Would that make you feel better?”

Jaskier smiled with teeth. “I think it would.”

***

It was their third bar of the evening and Essi was definitely sick of the manhunt. She probably hadn’t realized that when Jaskier was judging men fully objectively and not looking for matching personalities (relationship goals) or a willing body (one night stand goals) he had incredibly discerning tastes.

Probably too discerning.

“How about him?” Essi asked, barely looking up from her phone. She gestured to a guy sitting at the bar trying to make eye contact with a woman across the room.

“Ehh,” Jaskier said. “Sweater vest.”

Essi rolled her eyes. “But cute.”

“I’m not looking for cute. I’m looking for eye-searing hot.”

“I’m having trouble remembering how you’ve ever been in any relationships with these unrealistic expectations.”

“Valdo thought I was hot.” Jaskier thought about that for a moment. “Did I stay with someone for three years out of flattery?”

“Probably. Fuck. Get therapy.”

“I am.”

“You’re going to be working on tonight for a while.”

Fucking true. “Oh god, we just saw Valdo’s taste in men. Tell me true… am I ugly.”

“You’re spiraling.”

“That’s not an answer!”

“You’re spiraling!”

“Yes,” Jaskier agreed, pulling at his hair. “I’m so aware.”

“Based on the guy in his status update I’m going to guess you’re the hottest guy he could get.”

“You’re a good friend.” Jaskier pressed his head against her shoulder.

Then, a table opened up across the room, revealing the man sitting on the other side of it. “Holy shit.”

Essi looked up. Then she looked up. “Wow.”

“I hope he’s into men,” Jaskier said. “Or at least willing to play along with pretending to be for long enough for you to get a picture.”

“You’re going to walk up to that?” Essi asked. “You have more balls than brains.”

That was probably true.

***

“Hi, I’m Jaskier,” he opened with, dropping into the seat across from the gorgeous man. Up close he was even more startlingly pretty, with a chin dimple that highlighted his strong jaw and drew attention to his mouth. “And my boyfriend broke up with me two months ago, only to post his new relationship on Facebook today. Our three year anniversary. It’s the dickest of moves, right?”

The man hummed in agreement, but otherwise didn’t stop frowning in Jaskier’s general direction. Like someone waiting for him to get to the point. Jaskier saw that frown often.

“The reason for the oversharing is that I just forced my best friend to follow me to three different bars to find someone so phenomenally hot for me to spend time with and get picture proof, and here you are. I’d do jazz hands but you don’t seem like someone who responds well to jazz hands.”

“What are jazz hands?”

Whoa.

What a voice. What a sexy, sexy voice. Jaskier knew what he was talking about. He was a connoisseur of voices.

Jaskier wiggled his fingers at him. Tada! “Jazz hands.”

“Huh.” The man took a drink of his beer. “You want to use me as a revenge plot?”

“Exactly. Can I buy you a drink?”

The man gestured to his mostly full beer. “I’m not drinking to get drunk tonight.”

That was only a no to the beer. “Nachos or some other foodstuff?”

The guy seemed possibly interested in food.

“Fine,” he agreed.

****

Facebook: Julian Alfred Pankratz is in a relationship with Geralt of Rivia.

“Who’s Julian Pankratz?” Geralt muttered, staring at his phone.

“What?” Jaskier groaned, coming out a shitty sleep to a few realizations:

He’d gone home with the hottest guy on earth, which he should be pleased about, AND WAS PLEASED ABOUT

He might throw up

He’d done something last night. Something he’d said “that’s up for tomorrow Jaskier to sort out” because his drunk self was apparently a fucking masochist, and now Jaskier wasn’t really sure what that was.

Only Geralt was still scowling at his phone and seemed to know his real name.

So.

“Fuck,” Jaskier groaned. His mouth tasted like nachos and the regret of doing shots too late in life. He was 28 years old, not dead, but his hangover didn’t seem to know that. “We didn’t get married , did we?”

“...”

Jaskier risked the light filtering in through the edges of the blinds to look at Geralt. His hair was beyond mussed - Jaskier didn’t know hair could get that tangled overnight. He was still frowning at his phone.

“I’ve been calling you Jaskier.”

“I go by Jaskier,” he promised. He was too busy having his own crises to deal with Geralt’s! For fucksakes. “Now, back to the marriage thing??”

“No.”

Phew. That was probably on him. He wasn’t sure people could actually get fake married overnight. Legally. He’d seen a lot of movies, though.

Ok. Next problem. “I might throw up.”

Geralt turned his head slowly to look at him. Yikes. Too much beautiful-man-face in his face for this early in the morning.

“It’s eleven,” Geralt told him in the dry tone that told Jaskier he’d said that all outloud.

“Eleven after getting to bed at what? Five? Eugh, boo. Do you have any food?”

***

Geralt did have food.

Well, Geralt had protein bars and electrolytes, which was basically the same thing. Jaskier could always fall on top of a burger on his way home if he had to. He’d finally looked at his phone by the time he was halfway through his breakfast.

107 new notifications.

What the fuck?

Julian Alfred Pankratz is in a relationship with Geralt of Rivia

Geralt and I were going to wait until announcing this wasn’t an asshole move, but now that it doesn’t really matter, I just wanted everyone to know that I’m doing GREAT.

Attached to it was the picture of the two of them together that Essi had taken with the caption of “I wouldn’t feel too sorry for Jaskier tonight”

His drunk self had a lot to answer for. No wonder Geralt had been scowling at his phone.

“I can’t believe I went Facebook Official with someone I haven’t even had sex with yet,” Jaskier mourned. “What is it, 2007?”

***

It took Jaskier almost the full day to recover enough to actually look through his comments on Facebook. By the time he had, they’d almost doubled and he’d made the mistake of clicking into Instagram to find one of those quintessential happy-relationship-our-feet-are-cute-together bullshit pictures. He had a different following on Instagram, mostly using it for pictures of himself singing.

Yikes. Yikes. Yikes. This wasn’t a contained problem, if you could call their mutual friends and families on Facebook that had been gathering in the wings for 15 years a contained problem . Fucking Facebook. Jaskier friended people he’d met once. He had a database of acquaintances. It was great for - you know - being a musician looking for gigs. He’d done 15 weddings in the last year.

It was pretty shitty when he’d faked having a boyfriend so people wouldn’t feel bad for him.

But, as he read through the comments and realized that some of them weren’t for him, he realized that maybe he wasn’t the one with the biggest problem.

Jaskier: Did you just come out?

Jaskier: Are you EVEN INTO MEN?

Jaskier: I REMEMBER YOU THINKING THIS WAS FUNNY AND AGREEING TO IT

Jaskier: BUT

Jaskier: I REGRET COMMITTING TO CAPS SO SOON BECAUSE I MEAN THIS IN CAPS AND BOLDED

Jaskier: WHOEVER LAMBERT IS JUST CONGRATULATED YOU ON FINALLY GETTING DICKED DOWN BECAUSE IT MIGHT MAKE YOU LESS GRUMPY

Geralt: I see you’ve read the comments

Geralt: my brother

Jaskier: YOUR BROTHER?!

Geralt: bold and caps?

Jaskier: and italics what the fuck. Why’d you let me do this?

Jaskier: wait.

Jaskier: WAIT

Geralt: there it is

Jaskier: this was your idea

Jaskier: did you use me to tell everyone you know that you’re gay or bi or whatever you identify as?

Jaskier: what a brilliant opportunity last night was for both of us

Geralt: you went back to sleep and didn’t process any of this yet, didn’t you?

Jaskier had been seen with that, fuck. He made a face at his phone even though Geralt couldn't see it.

A few moments later a response to Lambert popped up from Geralt himself.

@Lambert who says I haven’t been getting dicked down this entire time you heteronormative asshole

Followed by someone named Yennefer posting a picture of a strap on.

Who were these people? Could you love someone based on how their friends reacted to their ill-advised fake-relationship status change? Asking for a friend.

Geralt: for context, that’s my ex-wife

Geralt: we’re ok

Geralt: especially when she’s helping me fuck with my brother

***

Jaskier was debating the merits of asking Geralt if he wanted to come up with a break-up plan or just date when another comment showed up.

Vesemir left a comment:

You’ll bring him to brunch tomorrow?

Geralt left a comment:

We’ll be there

Vesemir left a comment:

Leave the frightening device at home

Geralt left a comment:

He doesn’t need it

This was followed by a string of variations of LOL and OH SHITs from about 7 different people. Jaskier watched it all unfold feeling like he’d stepped into the middle of something he didn’t understand - yet. He was definitely in trouble, if the way his heart rate increased at Geralt’s he doesn’t need it was any indication. It wasn’t even the dick reference, though that was amazing. It was the snappy, quick response. The underlying sarcasm.

Jaskier had a type. He could end a fake relationship that was based on seeing a searing hot guy across a room, but it was a bit harder when the guy had a personality he liked. If Geralt turned out to have a heart of gold, Jaskier was screwed and would probably be proposing marriage by year’s end.

Yeah, we’ll be there , he commented.

Geralt: my dad

Geralt: thanks

Jaskier: no problem

Jaskier : gonna call

“So I’m thinking,” Jaskier said the moment Geralt’s face showed up on the video call. He was squinting at his phone like no one had ever tried to video call him before.

“Hi,” Geralt replied, looking amused.

“I’ve been debating the merits of planning a breakup for our fake relationship or just… dating? I’m thinking maybe we should date? Do you have input?”

“Dating’s fine.”

“But do you… are you even attracted to me? Would you pick me?”

Oh fuck, what was that?! Something new to bring up in therapy.

Geralt tilted his head. “You don’t know this about me yet, but I’m capable of saying no. Overly capable, some of my family might tell you.”

“So you’re not saying no?”

“I’m pretty confident I said yes instead.”

***

“As Jaskier’s best friend and the only witness,” Essi said into the microphone, holding up a glass of champagne to salute the two of them. “Our happy couple gave me full permission to tell the story of what happened the night Geralt and Jaskier met. Like Jaskier himself, the story is partially an embarrassing tale of bad decisions, half-cocked plans, and a lot of heart.”

Jaskier grinned, and nudged his shoulder into Geralt’s.

“And,” Essi continued with glee, “dicks in every definition.”

#geralt of rivia #jaskier #witcherauseptember #the witcher #fanfiction: drabble #fake relationship

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