#geralt modern au

[wehavekookies]

First of all, how are these five years old already.

[fangirleaconmigo]

Modern AU where Jaskier posts all of his song to youtube. He doesn't have very many hits so he doesn't think much about taking them all off one day when he is rethinking his social media strategy.

He is shocked when his handsome but introverted neighbor (Geralt is his name) calls him at one am panicking. (The man has never even used his number. Jaskier came up with some painfully transparent excuse about a neighborhood watch just to get him to take it.)

Geralt's daughter Ciri has woken up with a nightmare and apparently the only thing that gets her to sleep is Jaskier's singing. However, Geralt is panicking because can't find his videos. He rambles about not being able to find them anywhere and he feels stupid, bad at social media, he shouldn't have called, etc.

Jaskier is intrigued. "I didn't even know you knew about my music."

"You mention it every time I see you in the hall."

"Oh, you are unbearably blunt. Touche, touche. In my defense, I didn't know you listened when I rambled on."

"I do." His neighbor sounds affronted.

"Alright then."

"Is that a yes? You'll sing to her?"

Jaskier isn't done questioning him. "You really play her my music?"

*Pause*

"She hears your music."

"How."

"I might listen to your music at night. To wind down. She just overhears. She's gotten used to it."

Jaskier feels quite smug. "Well alright. Anything for my fans. Put the little one on."

Geralt rolls his eyes but smiles and puts the phone on speaker. Ciri shrieks with delight to hear Jaskier's voice. After she falls asleep, Geralt sneaks out of her room whispering a thank you.

"You know," Jaskier says playfully. "My voice is better live. I could come over sometimes to sing you lullabies in person."

Geralt is glad you can't hear a blush over the phone.

"Yes. Ok."

"Yes?" Jaskier crows.

"Yes. I'd like that."

--fin

Inspiration

[humblebardd]

Jaskier: you know why I called you in here, right?

Geralt: yeah, because I accidentally sent you a dick pic—

Jaskier: *stops pouring two glasses of wine* accidentally??

[thedemonofcat]

Modern Au: Jaskier Pankratz currently works as a mermaid performer at the local aquarium, where he recently formed a friendship with single father Geralt Rivia and his young daughter, Ciri. One thing Jaskier finds especially adorable is that Ciri wholeheartedly believes he’s an actual mermaid.

After undergoing throat surgery, Jaskier has been left temporarily mute while his vocal cords heal.

When Ciri sees him, she becomes convinced that Jaskier must have sacrificed his voice to become human. Determined to break the "curse," Ciri insists that Geralt kiss Jaskier to restore his voice.

[spielzeugkaiser]

[MASTERPOST] Roach steals Jaskier the show, Jaskier has a nice community and the chat is thirsting for Geralts arms. 👀

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 70

Jaskier is the worst roommate Geralt could ever ask for. He comes home at odd hours of the night, constantly makes noise and chatter, and he brings home random strangers almost every damn night. It'll be three in the morning when Jaskier stumbles in, drunk off his ass, heeled shoes loudly clicking against their floor as he meanders about, squinting and knocking things over. At least he has the decency to mumble "Sorry" every time he breaks something, but is he apologizing to Geralt, or apologizing to the damn mop? He talks to himself, he sings to himself, he sings as a hobby, he sings as a job, he plays his lute/guitar loudly all throughout the day and night, he even talks in his damn sleep. Constant humming, singing, talking, muttering, whispering. Hookups and flings and fuckbuddies galore, both women and men. Not that Geralt cares, it was just something he observed. They'd steal his food, or use up the shower when Geralt was meant to be getting ready for work, or they'd leave and keep the door unlocked. The worst was when Jaskier's bachelor of the night mistook Geralt's bedroom for Jaskier's bedroom and very happily cozied up and went to sleep in Geralt's bed. Naked. Geralt didn't even care if he was high, drunk, or just dumb, he threw him out all the same. When Geralt's girlfriend, Yennefer, breaks up with him, he is comforted by Jaskier of all people. Coming home tipsy and without a shirt, and yet still sitting down next to Geralt and giving him a thoughtful, long, deep pep-talk. Maybe he isn't all bad, after all. Geralt is the worst roommate Jaskier could ever ask for. Don't get Jaskier wrong, Geralt is unbelievably easy on the eyes, but that's pretty much all he has. Geralt always looms silently in the dark, offers brutal remarks at best and grunts at worst, and for some reason always has a little blood on him. It'll be three in the morning when Jaskier stumbles in, drunk off his ass, and Geralt will just walk out of the shadows with an insanely deep "Did you remember to lock the door?", scaring the bleeding daylights out of him! He walks quieter than a damn cat! He should wear a bell like one! Fuck's sakes! Geralt's ~lovely~ comments are always harsh but sadly never truly unprompted. Jaskier will get stuck on a line and ask aloud for help, momentarily forgetting his only recent company has been Geralt, and Geralt will sometimes oblige him with an answer, such as "Can you shut up for five minutes?" "It's too late for this shit." "I hate it." So on and so forth. Jaskier learns to stop asking... Mostly. Jaskier went to shave one time, and found blood in the sink. He looked over at Geralt and asked him if he had cut himself shaving. Geralt said no. Jaskier REASONABLY asked why there had been blood in the sink, and got the answer "Work." WORK?????? "And your job is what?! BLEEDING INTO SINKS!?" and yet Geralt was already walking out the door. But then one night he comes home, to find Geralt waiting for him - Silently, alone in the dark, just sat there. Like always. Weirdo. - demanding his half of the rent. Fuck. Fuck, Jaskier completely forgot- Jaskier starts panicking. He explains how he doesn't have the money, that some of his latest gigs have backed out on him or refused him pay for bullshit reasons and he didn't earn as much as he expected to, and begs to not be kicked out. He's surprised when Geralt calms him down from his spiral, and tells him to take a deep breath and wash away his tears - Shit, when did he start crying? - He comes back and Geralt sits him down and explains he'll cover the entire rent this month, his work had gone extra well recently. He knows what it's like for people to pull out pay or suddenly ignore your deal, and won't hold it against Jaskier, but expects him to be able to pay next time. Jaskier is so overjoyed he hugs Geralt. And Geralt lets him. Maybe he isn't all bad, after all.

[churchofpossum]

I don't have a happy new year thing for this year bcs it sucked and I am just happy it is over. So here's one from last year, no idea if I ever posted it here. So happy new year to you, may all your resolutions come true.

[fandom-junk-drawer]

Modern Day Geralt and Jaskier being two halves of the same idiot

[midnight-wonder]

This absolutely would be Jaskier in a modern AU.

[credit to the twitter account!]

[herostag]

have a wip or something, idk

[wannabe-goth-babe]

We are missing a glorious Geraskier opportunity here: Renfaire AU. Geralt and the wolves are knights who joust and Jaskier works as a bard. Jaskier walks up and starts flirting between jousts. Geralt gets distracted by the pretty face in the audience when Jaskier is on his break and gets decimated by Lambert.

I want this so bad.

[hannibard]

Hear me out: CEO Yennefer x employee turned sugar baby Jaskier

(Or it could be geraskefer. Rich power couple Yennefer and Geralt x struggling musician Jaskier)

[flowercrown-bard]

Geralt stared at the nervously chattering guy, unblinking. 

He was an idiot. 

A brightly dressed idiot who had driven to the wild life rescue centre in the middle of the night, close to tears because he had found an injured animal on his way to a party. 

"Can you save him?"

"Her," Geralt said automatically and took the small fluttering thing from the man. Oh, hadn't he mentioned? The guy was an idiot, who had stopped his car to help an endangered and dangerous species. 

The guy was an idiot. 

Geralt already felt his heart fluttering like the griffin's wings. 

[humblebardd]

Jaskier: hey, do you have a bag I could borrow?

Geralt: the only bags I have are the ones under my eyes, and they’re specifically designed to carry the burden of my existence.

Jaskier: literally all you had to do is say no.

[thedemonofcat]

Modern Au:

For some time, Jaskier has been working at an amusement park. His role involves dressing up as a Prince, entertaining guests, and occasionally performing in a show where his current boyfriend is supposed to rescue him.

In reality, Jaskier's boyfriend is somewhat abusive toward him.

Over the past few weeks, Jaskier has repeatedly noticed the same little girl and her father, whose names he eventually learns are Ciri and Geralt. Every time they visit, Ciri insists that Geralt talks to Jaskier.

Unbeknownst to anyone, Ciri believes that Jaskier is a real Prince who needs saving. For the past several weeks, she has been trying to get Geralt to rescue Jaskier.

[dapandapod]

Particular with nicknames

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

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

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

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

Well, it did not.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Holy fucking shit and mother of turds.

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

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

It’s fine. He will be fine.

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

It is not fine.

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

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

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

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

“Oh baby, I didn’t know you cared!”

Jaskier drops the banana.

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

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

Fuck fuck fuck he is in so much trouble.

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

Jaskier is in a constant state of fear.

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

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

How is his poor heart to cope?

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sexy? Doubt that.”

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

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

It should be fine. He is fine.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure! Uh… What is it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why didn’t you say anything then?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Gmmrmgmg.”

“What’s that?”

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

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

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

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

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

It’s alright.

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