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agoodgoddamnshot · 3 years

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Shrike - Geraskier [E]

[Gif isn’t mine]

Warning(s): Smut (Rating E); Mild Violence

Originally posted to my AO3

Mob Boss Geralt is brought to the Rosemary and Thyme Bar, where he meets with an alluring Jaskier; who has a new work proposition.

In hindsight, he should have just punched Lambert in the jaw and left it at that.

But here he is, in the back of his own car, heading towards downtown. Gods only know what time it is, but Geralt’s eyes are already starting to sting. A tight pain runs up the side of his face. He’s clenching his jaw again. There isn’t a moment where he isn’t. But after catching himself going it, he manages to flex his jaw and wring the pain out.

The red-haired man laughs, mostly to himself. He’s sitting in the back of the car with him, letting Coën do all the driving. He can only assume the other man didn’t have much of a say in it, with how grimly he’s glaring back at Lambert stretched out along the backseat. “You work too much,” he lilts, looking out on to the changing cityscape.

Gods alive, he hates downtown. It’s busy and bright and desperately loud, assaulting every sense that he has. Work might lure him down here every so often, but that’s why he has Lambert and Eskel and Coën. If he can send them in place of him, then good. They’ll go. But more often than not, people want to meet the White Wolf personally. Even if it’s the last meeting with him they’ll ever have.

It’s not that he works too much. It’s that there is so much work to do. Vesemir retired and overnight Geralt found himself in charge of all of this. People underneath him who know who he is, knows that the Old Wolf raised him personally to take over. But he still watches those with uncertain eyes. Whispers of a coup have been brushing his ears ever since Vesemir fucked off to the countryside and left the title of boss to him. An argument could be made that they had talked about it. Vesemir was getting greyer, and young bucks were popping up all around the boroughs, crowing and fighting amongst themselves. It was only a matter of time before they ran their antlers through the Old Wolf and took over.

Best to get someone like Geralt in before any of that unpleasantness started. The White Wolf may have been a shy pup, quiet and always keeping to himself, but he could level anyone with a stare, enough to knock them over and have them scampering from the offices. Eskel, gods bless him, is too kind-hearted. Lambert is too much of a prick. Geralt has the perfect temperament; but is easy to anger.

And he can feel that very anger starting to bubble up now, just as downtown’s bright and irritating neon lights stream in through the dimmed windows of the car.

“Stay for an hour,” Lambert reasons, tilting his head to the side. His brother might be a prick and a degenerate, but he knows how to look at the elder in a certain way to get him pliant enough to do whatever he asks. That’s how he got Geralt to fight all of his battles for him when they were boys. Lambert was often the one to get them into trouble, and Geralt got them out. That’s how it worked. And then there was Eskel, wearing an ever-suffering expression on his face wondering why in the name of all of the gods their father put Geralt in charge in the first place.

Lambert splays his hands. “Stay for an hour,” he repeats, “and if you hate it as much as you think you’re going to, then you can leave. I’m sure Coën would drop you back home if you asked. Isn’t that right, Coën?”

There’s an illegible huff from the front of the car. Coën keeps his glowering eyes on the road, muttering something or other under his breath.

It isn’t directed at Geralt, that’s all he knows. So he allows it. If Coën had his way, he would be home in bed too. Geralt’s ache bleeds for them both.

Lambert slaps a hand on to Geralt’s shoulder. He leans over, lowering his voice. “It’s my job to make sure you don’t look so fucking grumpy all of the time,” he lulls, only sitting back when the bar comes into view. Geralt tries not to roll his eyes. Of course. Of course he would bring him here.

The dazzling, irritating lights of Rosemary and Thyme glare at him. A bar and club frequented by just about anyone who can slip in through the small army of security posted to the front doors. Just as Coën parks them in front of the door, Lambert slips out and has a word with the burly men. They nod and stand aside. Lambert looks back at him with a brilliant smile. “Come on, Geralt!” he calls out.

Coën offers him a sympathetic look through the rear-view mirror. “I can hang around, if you like?”

If you want to bolt after a minute.

Geralt grunts. “Might be an idea,” he rumbles, but steps out of the car all the same. He’s used to it; having security come up to meet him. Despite everything, even though they’re contracted by the bar and they could call the police on someone like him, they know to lead him past the queues formed outside and get him into the building as quietly as possible. He catches a few faint whispers, all about the White Wolf. He tries not to let his eyes roll. He’s had enough of it, to be honest. But Lambert laps it up. Sticking close to Geralt’s side, he gets anything he wants. A completely different world to the one he grew up in.

They’ve barely stepped into the bar before a woman meets them. Armed with a clipboard and armoured in a suit, she points to some secluded rooms to the side of the bar. “If you would like to come with me, Mr. Rivia?”

Geralt grunts and follows. Lambert makes idle chatter with the woman; always polite when he wants to be, laughing when he should be keeping the swearing to a minimum. But as soon as they’re shown to the rooms, Lambert turns on his heel and whispers something into her ear. They have a quiet conversation, one that Geralt can’t hear through the din of music.

She nods. “I’ll see if they’re available.”

“They’ll be available,” Lambert says firmly, palming some gold into the woman’s hand. She nods curtly before disappearing.

Geralt watches Lambert stride into the room. It’s a far cry from the main bar; chrome-lined and with a dance floor already heaving with people. Even the booths lining the sides of the room are full, with parties of people keeping to themselves. Curious glances had followed him while they walked through the floor. Now, shielded away, at least he doesn’t have to deal with them anymore.

But he still has Lambert, which is a problem. The man makes himself at home within the room; letting the door click shut behind them and tossing his jacket over the back of an L-shaped couch pushed to the back of the room. A well-stocked bar lines the walls, something that has grabbed Lambert’s attention.

“You work too much,” the man lilts, pulling some bottles from the shelves. “You need to loosen up a bit.”

Geralt grunts, stalking over to the couch. It’s plush and just soft enough for him to sink back into it. He leaves his jacket sprawled beside him, still within an arm’s reach just in case he decides to leave early. He thinks of Coën, driving aimlessly around downtown, or maybe grabbing something to eat while Geralt ponders when it would be an acceptable amount of time passed for him to leave.

“Then let me go home and sleep,” he sighs, burying his face into his hands. Lambert...is a lot. The only reason why Geralt hasn’t flung his body into the nearest river is that he’s family. And Vesemir will come out of hiding or retirement to make sure Geralt’s body joins his.

Not that there haven’t been moments. His fingers itch for the trigger, but not here. If he’s going to kill Lambert, he’ll make it look like a damn accident.

The man plies him with alcohol, setting a familiar drink down in front of him. Geralt’s glare softens slightly, but doesn’t disappear completely. He reaches out, taking a measured sip. It’s strong, whatever he’s concocted, mostly whiskey that burns the back of his throat. But it’s enough to start unwinding the tension from his muscles.

There’s a knock at the door. Lambert, midway through knocking back a shot of something, eyes the door. He sets his glass down and the same hand moves to his waist, to the sheathed gun resting there. Geralt’s eyes narrow. If he’s smart, if he can keep a hold on himself, then that gun will stay where it is.

Lambert cracks the door open just enough to glimpse at who’s outside. Geralt’s ears twitch as the man grunts, stepping outside for a moment.

There’s a short conversation, one that he can’t hear. He reaches for his glass, taking another measured sip of whiskey and letting it sizzle on his tongue. If he’s going to be dragged this far away from home, he’s not going to weather the night sober. He thinks briefly of fishing his phone out of his jacket pocket, dialling Coën’s number and getting the man to come back. He has enough drinks lining the bar in his own home. Who’s to say that he can’t get what he wants at home? At least his ears will be spared from having to endure endless thumping of music beyond the walls.

Lambert steps back into the room before he can make his decision. He’s as comfortable as he can be; his jacket set to the side as he lounges back against the plush couch. His legs drift apart from each other, but only because the day’s work finally starts coiling through his muscles and tensing them.

A devilish smile starts to curl along Lambert’s lip. Another man joins him, and Geralt blinks. He’s not a man he would expect Viola to have in her employ. He’s certainly not dressed like it. Hair that sweeps over and dusts his eyes, a luring smile that rounds his cheeks and highlights the faint flush of colour. Geralt’s eyes wander. His visitor is made up in tight-fitting pants – leather, if he were to guess – and a shirt that dips low enough into the middle of his chest.

Lambert just about manages to swallow a delighted laugh. “My dear brother works too much,” he lilts, nodding to the other side of the room. He turns his eyes back to the man. “He’s been terribly stressed lately. Be a good lad and make sure he enjoys himself tonight. He’s an awful bastard when he’s pent up.”

He’s going to fucking kill Lambert. Screw making it look like an accident. He might just have Coën drive by one of the biggest rivers in town just so he can hurl Lambert over the bridge and into it. So fucking what if Vesemir appears at his door tomorrow, glaring daggers at him.

But it’s either the whiskey or the man’s eyes slowly drifting over him, the urge to kill his brother is slowly fading. Geralt grunts.

He eyes his brother, watching the mop of red, curly hair try and disappear around the corner. Despite that, Lambert is loud enough for him to keep track of, even when the door clicks closed and he’s left alone with his guest. He turns to the man. “How much did he pay you?” he rumbles.

The man tilts his head, his eyes narrowing. Scrutinising whatever words perch on the tip of his tongue. If he’s one of Viola’s, which Geralt doesn’t think is likely with the more he stares at him, he’ll hold that tongue.

Geralt sighs. “I’ll pay you twice as much to turn around and leave me alone.”

The man’s face lightens. A delighted smile suddenly stretches over his lips, and just for a moment Geralt thinks that he might be free. There aren’t many things he can’t worm out of with money.

But this doesn’t seem to be one of them. Geralt notices the man holding a drink in one hand. He brings it up to his lips, resting them against the rim. “That’s a shame. If you don’t want me to do anything, fine,” he lilts, taking a measured sip. It’s bright and shines slightly when it catches the lights. Geralt can practically taste how sweet it must be. The man hums. “But company is free. We can talk. Or sit here in silence, since you don’t seem to be the talking type.”

Geralt stares at the man. “It’s bad manners to refuse a boss’ offer.”

“It’s bad manners to come into a whore’s bar and turn him down,” he replies just as easily, tilting his head again.

Geralt isn’t unused to having people try and read him. Ever since a grubby-faced, shaggy-haired pup appeared at Vesemir’s side one day, he’s had eyes watch and regard him. He’s learned how to shake them all off; to keep himself measured and in control, unreadable. Even when his temper flares, he can keep it to himself. He’s used to people trying to burrow under his skin.

But this man, with eyes the colour of oceans and a smile as bright as the sun, burns right through his skin and reaches into his muscles and bones. Geralt sighs. He grabs his drink and takes a mouthful, not even wincing at how the whiskey burns and stings the back of his mouth and his throat as he swallows it.

It’s suddenly not enough. He could pad over to the bar, down the whole bottle of whiskey sitting on one of the shelves. Or he could get his company to do it. He seems to know his way around a bar and its bottles.

Geralt’s jaw tightens. “Listen, you don’t want me for company,” he grounds out. It’s more words than he would normally gift anyone. Usually, if his patience starts to wear thin, or people annoy him just enough, he leaves. No reason to give any excuses. But his company is the responsibility of someone else, and if they see Geralt leaving as quickly as he plans to, words might have to be said to the man.

He has a certain soft spot in his heart for those who find their work in sex.

The man lifts his chin. “I know who you are. You don’t work here long before you start picking up names.”

Geralt arches an eyebrow. “And who is trading those names?” It’s all well and good having the right kind of people knowing your name in the boroughs; but it’s dangerous to pick up on whispers. People can be talking about you for all the wrong reasons.

“Everybody.” The man lifts a shoulder. “Everyone wants to be the White Wolf. Or in his pack.” The man’s eyes venture down. Brave things that linger on the open folds of Geralt’s shirt. His neck bobs as he swallows, taking a measured breath. He can feel his skin starting to flush from the scrutiny. “A few want to be in his bed.”

“And what about you?” Geralt’s voice rumbles out of the centre of his chest. “Do you fall into any of those groups of people?”

“I didn’t give it much thought, to be honest,” the man replies, lowering his voice to match, “until now.”

It’s almost lost to the thump of music. Even through the walls of the secluded rooms, broken off from the main bar where wandering eyes stop, it still worms into him. Before long, his heart matches the beat of the music, thumping in his chest and rattling his ribcage. Geralt swallows the last of his drink before setting his glass away. The couch underneath him is just plush enough to let him sink into it.

The moment he sits back against the couch, splaying an arm out to the side, sure fingers suddenly explore his chest. The fabric of his shirt is pulled at and scrutinised. A nice paying job means nice things. And even though he spent most of his life preferring to keep to simple clothes, Vesemir insisted on looking the part of the head of a pack. Pressed black slacks and a crisp white shirt, the top buttons always undone to reveal a portion of his chest. A simple silver chain sits around his neck, pooling in the hollow. Blue eyes investigate, spanning over everything fingers map out. “I knew you were the White Wolf the moment you walked in,” he lulls. Blue eyes glance up at Geralt’s hair. A tell-tale shade of white. “And not because of the obvious. But you hold yourself in a certain way. You want to walk a head higher than everyone, because that’s what someone taught you to do. But you want to blend into the walls, too.”

The man tilts his head, his gaze softening. “Have I caught myself a shy wolf?”

Geralt narrows his eyes. “Are you a therapist?” he asks, not helping the small smile that quirks the corner of his lip. This one...this one is peculiar.

The man laughs. It’s a light thing, and the smile that stretches over his lips rounds his cheeks and crinkles his eyes. Too many strangers have batted their eyelashes and dazzled him with sweet smiles, while none of it was at all genuine. This man, though, Geralt likes. His smile lures a small one out of him, and he’d very much like to hear that laugh again.

Inquisitive fingers only get braver as they catch one of his shirt’s buttons, fidgeting with it. The man hums. Within seconds, Geralt’s lap is full.

The man moves surely, slinging his leg over Geralt’s thighs and perching himself on Geralt’s lap. Arms slowly wind around his shoulders, crossing at his nape.

Geralt’s hands go to the man’s hips, settling over the arches and feeling the soft swell of muscle underneath. He’s dressed just as well as Geralt; in a soft blue shirt that brings out the colour of his eyes, slacks that ride up and bunch around his thighs, showing off the muscle gathered there. He isn’t a small or lithe man by any means. Not in the way Viola’s people usually are. His fingers are sure in what they’re doing, as are his lips.

Geralt grunts as he’s caught in a kiss. The man dips down and the arms around Geralt’s shoulders tighten and draw him closer. The man’s lips are warm and plush and flavoured with tequila and something searingly sweet. Below it all, Geralt can taste him.

The hands on the man’s thighs tighten, with his fingers delving into any bit of muscle he can find. They eventually travel, slipping around and kneading the globes of the man’s ass. A cut-off groan is muffled against his lips. With that, hips roll and grind and the arms around his shoulders gather him closer—

There’s a firm knock at the door. It cuts through everything and almost scalds the both of them. The arms slung over his shoulders tighten, drawing Geralt closer, and the hands he has on the man’s hips firm too.

Geralt parts from those plush, reddening lips, barely swallowing down a growl. “What?” he calls out. It could be someone from the bar, it could be Lambert. Though, Lambert would just barge in and make himself known. He wouldn’t bother with doing something as polite as knocking.

He keeps his jacket in the corner of his eye. One hand parts from the man’s thigh, resting just beside his jacket, ready to draw his gun if he needs to. The man stiffens against him, probably seeing the movement too.

A woman’s voice cuts through the door. “Apologies, Mr. Rivia,” she calls in through the door. She doesn’t come in, and it’s probably from the sharpness of Geralt’s voice. That’s fine. The fact that she’s even here, taking him away from the body on top of him, annoys him to no end. But she continues on nonetheless. “None of our regulars are available. I’m afraid I don’t have anyone for you.”

The words take a moment to settle with him. He remembers Lambert palming gold into her hand, the mutterings of someone being available. He isn’t stupid. And he knows what his brother is like.

The body on top of him doesn’t even stiffen. But a small sigh is puffed against his lips. Blue eyes blink open, watching his, scrutinising. Waiting for Geralt to say something, either to him or the woman outside.

He muses over his words for a moment. Sly thing, he thinks, regarding the man on top of him.

“That’s fine,” he grunts, sitting up a bit. He moves them both, letting the man lay back slightly. The arms loosen from his shoulders, but still sling over them as if they always belonged there. And he finds himself loath to actually part with the warm body perched on him.

But the warm body isn’t meant to be there at all.

At Geralt’s quirked eyebrow, the man sighs. “I saw you come in,” he says, reaching up to brush some of Geralt’s hair back from his face. He curls it around his ear. “I wanted to see what all the fuss was about.”

Geralt grunts. “You’re not one of Viola’s, are you?”

“I’m a whore, among other things,” the man corrects, but he muses over his words for a moment. Whatever he says next could earn him a death sentence. When he’s decided on what he’s going to say, his hips move. A slow roll over Geralt, keeping his attention. As if Geralt could focus on anything else but the enigma on top of him. “But I don’t work for Viola.”

Geralt hums, lifting his chin. “Who do you work for?”

“Myself,” the man replies. The same fingers that explored his chest now skim over the ridge of his jaw, sending slight shivers through Geralt as his skin scalds. The man’s touch is too much, even now. “Though, I’m currently looking for some new business ventures.”

Geralt huffs a short laugh. People have asked things of him in the past. And he has had certain people be more forward than others. This isn’t the first time he’s been straddled and kissed and plied with gentle touches, and suddenly a business plan is placed in front of him.

But this man may be the only one Geralt hasn’t shoved off of him yet. His hands settle back on the man’s thighs, feeling a gentle tremor shiver through them.

The man perched on Geralt’s lap straightens, pulling himself just out of kissing range. Brave little thing, Geralt things. “I heard a rumour that you’re looking for a new hitman,” the man lulls, letting his arms fall from Geralt’s shoulders. Sure hands map down his chest, lingering slightly over every swell of muscle they can find.

Geralt blinks. Letho’s death isn’t public knowledge. His own people haven’t been told yet, just because Geralt can’t be bothered dealing with the fallout just yet. He needs to gather everything he has, resource-wise, just because the Vipers might not be too pleased one of their own has fallen. He’s been keeping an eye on Lambert. One more outburst and Geralt will have run out of rivers to dump bodies in.

The man’s dexterous fingers linger on the buttons of Geralt’s shirt. He plucks one open, revealing more of his chest. It stops there, though. Geralt wonders vaguely if the man can feel how his heart hammers in his chest. He’s caught. And he could very easily shove the man off and go home. But this man knows about a vacancy in his house. How he knows about Letho’s death, that’s another matter.

For now, the man has his attention.

The man tilts his head. “I want to be a member of your house,” he murmurs, his gaze flickering up to meet Geralt’s. “I’m done with working by myself.”

Having the man within his house would keep him close. Wolves could keep their eyes on him; and tear him apart if he became too brave. Geralt hums, musing. “You know your way around a gun, I suppose?” Even though he doesn’t work for the woman, he knows that Viola teaches those on her payroll how to use one and a blade, if it ever calls for it.

The man nods. “I’ve known how to kill someone longer than how to pleasure them,” he counters.

Geralt’s chest tightens. He lifts his chin. “What’s your name?” he rasps.

“Jaskier,” the man replies.

A single name shouldn’t mean much, but when it’s Jaskier—

A slow smile slowly curls along Geralt’s lips. Of course. “The same Jaskier who dealt with one of my irritating problems in Cidaris?”

Jaskier laughs. The same laugh Geralt wants to hear more of. “I didn’t know that you considered Valdo Marx an irritating problem, but he was certainly irritating to me, and causing problems.”

“Well, I guess I owe you a thank you.” Without the pompous bastard strutting around like a peacock, making far too much noise about anything and everything, Geralt’s men can work a lot easier within the streets without being bothered by a man who’s far too brave for his own good.

Jaskier hums. His fingers pluck at the buttons of Geralt’s shirt, seemingly struggling between undoing them and revealing more of his chest, or leaving them be. Geralt hopes for the former. “I can think of a few ways to repay me,” Jaskier lulls. Those fingers venture further down, deftly catching and undoing Geralt’s belt.

At the clink of the buckle, a low moan slips out of Geralt’s throat. He reaches up, catching Jaskier’s chin between his fingers. “Careful, little lark,” he rumbles, delighting in how the man’s eyes shimmer. His attention is solely Geralt’s, already wrapped around him. The voice that rumbles out of him is deep and rasping. “Wolves are dangerous.”

A shiver shakes up Jaskier’s spine. “Good,” he replies, dipping down to lure a kiss out of Geralt. He hums against his lips, breath hitching when Geralt snags his bottom lip in his teeth and tugs.

A clever and sure hand slips down the front of his pants, reaching into his briefs and curling around his cock. He’s already half-hard. The man peaked his interests. Fingers coil around it, slowly pumping up and down. Geralt’s breath catches in his throat when Jaskier twists his hand around his head, gathering a bead of precum in his palm to slick his way back down. It’s dry, but the pressure and coil of the man’s fingers around him is just enough to keep his interest. And the squirming thing in his lap, plying him with kisses and luring words, has him very interested.

Geralt slides his hands into Jaskier’s pants, kneading the globes of his ass and rolling their hips together. A thrum of pleasure rumbles through him. A lithe groan slips out of the other man.

He pauses when he feels metal.

Geralt quirks an eyebrow.

Jaskier, for the first time all night, actually blushes. Though, he smiles his way through it. He pushes his hips back against Geralt’s hands, wanting them to keep going in their explorations. He’s a hopeful thing, if he expected Geralt to say yes. Or an incredibly self-assured one. Geralt isn’t sure which one he’d appreciate more.

Geralt’s finger traces around the man’s rim, following the edges of what he can only expect is a plug. He leans up, plucking a gentle kiss from Jaskier’s lips. “Stretched out already?” he hums, lounging in the way his lips tingle after kissing Jaskier’s.

The man doesn’t answer. It could be the blush that’s warming his cheeks giving him all the answers he needs, but Geralt delights in any sounds he manages to lure out of the man. He grabs the end of the plug and tugs it gently. The body on top of him shivers.

He sets up a gentle rhythm, delving the plug in and out of Jaskier’s hole. He can feel how wet the man is, and the images that flash in front of Geralt almost catch his breath. He might have spotted Geralt coming into the bar, or known that he would have come this way. To be as bold as to assure himself of a night with the White Wolf, to go into a bathroom stall or the back rooms of the bar, lube and plug in hand, readying himself.

Geralt’s growl rumbles through his chest. “Has anyone else had you today?”

Jaskier’s mouth falls open, a moan slipping out. “No,” he manages to breathe.

Geralt nips at his jaw. “Good,” he mutters against the skin. “Because you belong to me now.”

Jaskier’s moan is a gorgeous thing, just as beautiful as his laugh.

He isn’t a possessive person. He sees other masters of their guilds hoard people in their beds, and while these people walk around the boroughs draped in silks and gold, people know who they belong to and wouldn’t dare look in their direction, let alone touch them. He’s never been like that. Those who have fallen into his bed have had their time and have gone with the changing wind.

And then there’s Jaskier, who he’s known for all of thirty minutes now, and he wants to keep him forever. He slowly works the plug in and out of Jaskier, languishing in every small choked-off sound that he wrings out of the man. Eventually, the man’s hand tightens around his cock. If he can tease him, then Jaskier can tease right back.

Geralt sets his teeth to the ridge of Jaskier’s jaw, slowly working the plug out of the man’s hole. There’s a broken attempt at Geralt’s name, followed by a high-pitched whine when the plug slips out of him. As soon as it’s gone, and Geralt sets it on to the couch to be forgotten about, he delves in with two fingers.

Jaskier did a good job of stretching himself, but he still tightens and clamps around Geralt’s fingers. He curls just enough to search out that spot inside of the man, and when he brushes it with the pads of his fingers, one of Jaskier’s arms coils around his shoulders and hauls them flush against each other. “Geralt,” he breathes.

The heat around him is hot and warm and wet. Geralt’s tongue sits heavy in his mouth at the thought of burying himself into it. His cock twitches in Jaskier’s hand. He nips at Jaskier’s jaw. “Get us both ready,” he rumbles.

Hand scramble and pull off what they can. He’s desperate, Geralt can tell that. And he is too. The more time Jaskier spends squirming in his lap, bunching their slacks down as far as he’s able too before perching back on his lap, the more fidgety he becomes. When Jaskier is close enough, he winds a firm arm around the man’s waist and holds him in place.

It shouldn’t sear his blood as much as it does. He’s lost count of the number of people falling in and out of his bed. Some appear more often than most, while others are gone by the time the sun decides to peer over the horizon. But this one...

Geralt reaches down, guiding the man’s hand on his cock. It’s tight and quick, and if he’s not careful then this will all be over with too soon. Jaskier’s hand eventually falls away. He squirms on Geralt’s lap, trying to roll back on to the other man. The noises that slip out of him Geralt will commit to memory. If he’s as serious about this new proposition as he thinks he is, Geralt will be hearing those noises for many nights to come.

He sets the head of his cock against the man’s hole. A small chuckle escapes him as Jaskier whines and tries to roll his hips back. Geralt tights his old on him. “I’ll give you everything, darling,” he rumbles, delighting in the shiver that shakes through the man’s body. He sets his lips to the ridge of Jaskier’s jaw, hints of teeth scraping, as he slowly pushes himself into the man.

He struggles to keep his breath. Jaskier might have stretched himself out, and Geralt might have played with him for as long as he could have, but the heat that surrounds him is hot and tight and already lures depraved sounds out of him. Jaskier’s moan is choked and stuttering as he lets his hips fall flush against Geralt.

He’s perfect. Geralt moans against Jaskier’s jaw. Short puffs of hot breath ghost the man’s ear, making him shiver and tremble against him.

Jaskier’s arms coil around his shoulders, tightening their hold on him and bringing him closer. “Fuck me,” he sighs, half into the air above them. He lets himself feel Geralt for a moment. He’s big, and there isn’t a lot of space inside of Jaskier that he isn’t flush against. Every twitch of his hips has the tip of the man’s cock brushing his prostate. And this could all be over too soon.

Geralt has his hips trapped. He might allow the small quivers and rolls of movement, but he can’t lift himself. The hands around him tighten and fingers dig into the arches of his hips. Jaskier whines against Geralt’s lips. It’s too much and not enough. His cock leaks between them, the first few drops of precum already beading around his tip. He needs a hand on it. Or the man below him needs to move. Or something.

The man laughs, mostly to himself. It’s a rumbling thing that comes from the depths of his chest. Geralt leans back against the couch. His hands don’t part with Jaskier’s hips, but his hold loosens, just a touch. Lain out in front of him, Jaskier’s eyes wander over any stretch of bared skin he can find. “Come on, little songbird,” Geralt rumbles. “Take what you want.”

Jaskier’s moan is the only thing he can hear. The thump of music worming in through the walls, the shitty fluorescent lighting overhead, the hum of alcohol buzzing in his veins. It all slips away the moment the man’s hips roll and lift and fuck down on to him. Jaskier’s breath hitches and his eyelids droop. There’s a struggle in him. To close his eyes and lean back, languishing in how Geralt feels inside of him. Or to watch the man underneath him, make those golden eyes meet his and see what he’s doing to him.

Geralt bites the edge of his tongue. The same war starts to unfurl within his own mind.

His hands do nothing more than guide. Jaskier’s thighs work and warm as he lifts himself up and down, slowly riding Geralt. The heat around him tightens and quivers. One of Geralt’s hand slips down to his thigh, feeling the muscle work. He pets skin and mumbles sweet, worshipping words. “That’s it,” he tries to steady his own voice. “Look at you, little bird. Taking my cock so well. You were made to be there, hmm?”

Jaskier’s eyelids flutter closed as a moan slips out of him. One of his hands moves, curling into the hair at the back of Geralt’s head. He grunts as the man’s hold on him tightens. He might be enjoying himself, but he isn’t as naive to lose himself completely. Surely he must know what kind of effect he’s having on the man beneath him.

And he does – if the smirk curling along his lips is anything to by. Geralt tries to keep his breath. In and out. Settle.

Jaskier leans down, setting his forehead against Geralt’s. Their noses brush and warm air is shared between them. The smirk doesn’t budge. “Do you say that to all of your whores?”

Geralt pushes back. They’re close. The man’s lips are just there. He could lift his chin and steal a kiss. And he’s sure the other man is betting on it. His lips are plump and bitten already, luring him closer. “No,” he hums. “Though my hitmen tend to have excellent bed-manners.”

A laugh lilts out of the man. That’s it settled then. Jaskier works for him. And if he has his way – and if the other man is amenable – he’ll litter marks all over Jaskier’s skin so people get the message. Having a bird-like Jaskier perched on his shoulder, ready to go and hunt those undesirables he has out in the other boroughs, it tightens the coil in his core.

His hips lift and fuck up into him. He meets Jaskier thrust for thrust, and it lures the most divine of noises out of him. The smirk slips off of his lips as they stretch around moans and half-formed attempts at Geralt’s name.

Sweat starts to bead on both of them. Eventually, Jaskier’s thighs warm and give out, and he’s moved along with each of Geralt’s thrusts. He sags against the man’s chest, tightening the hold he has around his shoulders. “Fuck me,” he breathes against Geralt’s ear. “I want to feel you for days.”

He grabs the backs of Jaskier’s thighs and stands. The man’s arms tighten around his shoulders as he’s lifted and carried and eventually set down along the length of the couch. With the firm cushions underneath him, he rolls his head back. Blearily blue eyes watch Geralt; hovering above him and setting a hand next to his head.

His hips roll, driving himself deeper and deeper into the body below him. Jaskier’s breath thins and his whines grow higher and wisp. Every thrust fucks out one more sound Geralt can’t get enough of. He wants to hear more. He wants his name falling from the man’s bitten, plump lips. He wants to see what those hands can do; in his bed and for him out on assignments.

The people he hates most in life won’t know what hit them when he lets the songbird out of its cage.

Well-toned legs move, hooking around Geralt’s waist. Feet cross and heels dig into the small of his back. “Come on then, White Wolf,” Jaskier lulls, stretching his arms up and over his head. “Thank me properly.”

Geralt grabs his hips in a sure grip. Even through the shitty lighting, he can see the beginnings of marks form. He’ll leave more, when there’s time. When he has his little bird at home and in his bed, he’ll mark every stretch of skin he can find. And from the way the man watches him, his lips curling into a satisfied smile, he’s sure he feels the same.

Jaskier’s moans thin as Geralt snaps his hips. He’s close. He can feel beads of sweat starting to trail down his back. He fucks into the body beneath him with all he has, chasing down the edge that he can see in the distance. Jaskier’s legs splay around him, hips opening up, inviting him to delve deeper. If he could get any deeper, he would. The heat around him trembles and tightens, and it’s so wet and hot Geralt wonders if it has truly just been him to fuck the man tonight. He’s so spread open and inviting.

One of Jaskier’s hands moves. He watches it trail down, palming over his chest for a moment before it ventures downwards. Geralt quirks an eyebrow. “Did I say you could touch yourself?”

Jaskier holds his gaze. Fiendish thing, Geralt thinks, watching a small smile curl the corner of his lip. “You can take your time with me later,” he wisps, not bothering to hide the moan that slips out of him when Geralt’s cock brushes his prostate. His hand curls around his cock and gives a slow pump. The heat around Geralt tightens. His pumps start to match Geralt’s quickening thrusts. “When I’m in your bed – fuck – you can do what you like. Your mouth, fingers, hands, cock. Whatever you like, darling. And when you wake up tomorrow, you’ll have a few less problems to deal with.”

His words rasp as he stumbles closer to the edge, but they lure the more depraved of sounds out of Geralt. His hold on the man tightens as his hips start to stutter. Jaskier lifts his chin. His breathing thins and he moans Geralt’s name better than any of Viola’s whores. “Are you close, darling? That’s it, oh gods. Fuck it into me, Geralt. Harder, good—Geralt—”

The man’s breath catches as Geralt thrusts deeply into him, his hold on him turning white-knuckled, as he comes. Bowing over the man, he catches the first splattering of cum across Jaskier’s abdomen. Geralt moans at the sight. He trembles around him, hole fluttering, as come starts to pool around his cock and spill out.

Jaskier’s chest lifts and falls, every breath heaving.

Geralt has danced with enough of Viola’s payroll to know when they’re genuine or not. And though this little songbird might not be one of hers, he’s sure that he’s been in enough beds to know how to play people to his advantage. And Geralt has been careful. This bird might be his, but he’ll keep an eye on him. Any creature can turn against their masters; especially when a better offer comes along.

But he watches the man below him, fingers slowly trailing up Geralt’s abdomen and chest, feeling his sweat-beaded skin. Hooded eyes follow where his fingers go, slowly taking him in. Even through the shitty lighting overhead, he can make out just enough of him to hum. Geralt’s breath threatens to hitch when blue eyes blink up and meet his.

He’s too soft to stay in the man. He bites down on a small whine as he slips out of him, already missing the warmth. Jaskier’s brow twitches in a small frown, but it’s gone within moments. Geralt sets a hand on the outside of the man’s thigh. “Did I hurt you?” he asks.

Jaskier blinks. “No,” he says, after a time. “No, no. Just...You were good.”

Geralt meets his gaze for a moment, holding it. He hums. “Well,” he rasps, “as you said; I can take my time with you next time.”

It lures a smile out of the little bird. Jaskier stretches out, lounging in how his muscles groan and protest the movement.

He doesn’t know how long it’s been. Geralt manages to gather enough energy to slip away from the couch, fixing his trousers up and around his hips and doing up his belt. Sweat starts to cool and he just about manages to clamp down on a shiver. His jacket lies nearby, tumbled to the floor after he had placed Jaskier along the length of the couch.

Geralt fishes his phone out of his jacket pocket. Numbed fingers are barely able to tap out Coën’s number. The man answers on the second ring. “Bring the car back,” Geralt grunts, glancing over to the man still stretched out on the couch. He’s brought a leg up, splaying it to the back of the couch. Geralt’s breath threatens to hitch at the sight: the man reaching down and trailing a finger around his hole, feeling wet heat slowly trail out of him.

Coën hums. “Are you alone?”

“No,” Geralt replies, lowering his voice. He leaves it at that, because he’s sure that even if he doesn’t say anything, Coën will take one look at them both in the backseat and know everything he needs to know. He can already feel colour start to warm his cheeks.

Lambert will be given a wide berth. Gods forbid if he knew that his plan for the night worked – in a way. He’s sure this isn’t what the man planned, but he’ll lord it over Geralt for weeks on end if he finds out that Geralt did in fact have a good night.

He hangs up with the knowledge that Coën will be here in moments. His ears twitch at the sound of clothes shuffling.

Jaskier pulls down his shirt, and Geralt mourns the loss of a bare chest to look at. He’s managed to fix himself back into something more or less presentable; though his hair is distinctly out of place and a colour flushes along the heights of his cheeks. He doesn’t look much better, he guesses. He can feel wisps of hair dusting his face, fallen out of his ponytail. He should fix it, try and run his hands through his hair and fix it back into something normal. But blue eyes flicker up to his face. Jaskier smiles, reaching up to curl a stray strand of hair behind Geralt’s ear. “Ready to go?” he asks. His voice is still rasped and nothing but a gentle rumble. His hand gentles down the side of his face, trailing gooseflesh in its wake.

Geralt hums.

Jaskier’s smile is a devastating thing. He lifts his chin. A silent request.

Geralt bows, brushing a light kiss on to his lips. Jaskier moans into it, trying to chase it even as Geralt pulls away. A sure, firm arm coils around the man’s waist. “We have a lot to discuss,” he rumbles, already leading them both out of the room. No one waits outside for them. Lambert will have taken up a space at the bar, probably having lured someone into his lap. He already made his promise to Geralt to keep himself out of trouble and make his own way home. And Geralt, knowing better, knows that at least one of those things is true.

Rosemary and Thyme has secret, more shielding, exits for certain patrons. Viola, catching Geralt’s eye just as he passes her, blinks at the man curled around him. Jaskier buries his laugh into Geralt’s shoulder, but winks at the woman all the same.

Coën and their car sit out in the alley. The man is still in the driver’s seat. He isn’t their driver, but often finds himself there because Lambert drives too recklessly and Eskel is never around enough. And if Geralt could drive himself, he would. But with a certain man starting to paw at him again, he clambers into the back of the car and shuts the door behind them without a word.

CHAPTER II

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jaskiersvalley · 4 years

Text

Vulture In Lark’s Clothing

As a rule of thumb, Geralt didn’t ask questions. He assessed a contract from purely his own perspective, whether it was worth his time and danger and, if he deemed it valuable, he took it. No questions asked. No prying into who he was protecting, who he was escorting or why. If the money was good, he did it. It was why people liked him so much, employed him despite his less than sociable demeanour. The job got done and he didn’t fuss, even if he got blood and guts in his hair.

His latest contract was a curious one. Pick someone up from prison and escort them to the other side of the country to a hearing. Allegedly he was a witness but Geralt couldn’t care if it was his own hearing. A job was a job.

There have been many people Geralt had met but not a single one had been quite as exasperating as Jaskier. Who the fuck got arrested with only a lute and some fancy clothes to their name? Jaskier. Obviously. But it was neither here nor there. What mattered was that he was constantly making noise. Wherever he went, the lute did too. Even when Geralt threatened to throw it out the car window, Jaskier had just laughed and began composing a ditty about a tumbleweed crossing a country having more of a personality than Geralt.

The thing that made Geralt so good at his job was his ability to just deal with things without a fuss. He’d picked up on the fact they were being followed a while back. It wasn’t anything to be concerned about just yet. Well, he was concerned but he had it in hand. Their tail was keeping their distance, watching and assessing.

“So, our charming friend has been very thorough in his observations,” Jaskier commented out of the blue as they had stopped to get lunch. The ever present lute was leaning against his chair as he picked through a salad, eating all the onion from it.

“Nothing to worry about.” Geralt replied and munched steadily on his burger.

That night they were in a motel, Jaskier in the bed, Geralt on the sofa. When Geralt woke up suddenly, he tried to figure out what had roused him. A peek into the bedroom and Jaskier wasn’t there. Probably gone to the bathroom but checking there revealed an empty room. Scouting through the kitchen and living room, Geralt was ready to grab his guns and track down the idiot who stole him. To do that, he would need information, namely how some schmuck got into the bedroom and abducted Jaskier from under his nose. Pushing the bedroom door open, Geralt blinked. There was Jaskier, curled up in bed and fast asleep. Maybe Geralt was more tired that he’d thought, to have missed the fact Jaskier was there all along. He returned to the sofa and tucked his guns under the cushion, grumbling. Weirdly enough, their tail was gone the next morning.

One problem with Jaskier (well, one of the many) was the fact that he was so soft. Always demanding they stop over night somewhere with a decent bed, getting stroppy when they only bought food from a petrol station, he even went as far as kicking up a fuss when they hadn’t had the chance to shower for three days. How he survived in prison was beyond Geralt. He wouldn’t ask though, that wasn’t his place and asking meant he might actually care. Which he most certainly didn’t.

A spot of trouble happened at one of the restaurants they had stopped off at. A group of idiots had taken quite a dislike to Jaskier singing in the corner while Geralt ordered at the bar. They were closing in on him and Geralt could hear his name being called. To cut a violent story short, the men didn’t end up bothering Jaskier. But the price of that was being barred from the restaurant. From in front of the door they had just been thrown through, Jaskier turned, hands in the air as he cursed them, threatened to write a scathing song and leave a very rude review online. Silently, Geralt wiped the blood from his knuckles and walked towards the car. This job was starting be much more of a hassle than worth.

At least, he thought that until Jaskier turned his flirting to Geralt. It had been common enough for Jaskier to wink and compliment his way through any establishment they set foot in. Praise for the receptionist at the motel, a smile filled with promise to the attendant at the petrol station, he even had the gall to blatantly and appreciatively give the cleaner of the restaurant bathroom once over the one time. As an outsider, Geralt found it charmingly sleazy. But even he couldn’t deny that it was worth the small upgrades he would never have got before.

“You never know who you’re meeting,” Jaskier had reasoned.

The attention Jaskier started paying Geralt was awkward at first. Geralt had no idea what to do. He’d seen Jaskier go through the motions umpteen times before, knew it didn’t mean anything. And yet, he wanted to feel as special as Jaskier suggested he was. Which was just ludicrous, Geralt didn’t need someone’s approval or appreciation. Especially not from an incompetent criminal who got caught. And couldn’t even protect himself from a bunch of idiots at a restaurant. What Geralt missed was the news article about the murder or four men in the town they had just left behind, throats slit.

Whoever Jaskier was, Geralt was starting to realise that he was more important that he thought before. The closer they got to their destination, the more trouble they ran into. Not just people trailing after them now but actual attempts on Jaskier’s life. As if the idiot had actually realised. He merrily strutted through the world as if it was the safest place, strumming his lute and humming. And flirting. Always flirting, even with the pigeons by his feet if the mood took. Yet, Geralt still felt a warmth spreading through him whenever Jaskier smiled at him. It seemed like a special smile, warmer and even more sincere than the ones he gave everyone else. It made Geralt feel alarmingly disarmed in the face of it.

He’d just finished mopping up a trail of people after Jaskier who flounced through little side streets without a worry. This was the reason Geralt liked to wear black clothes, they didn’t show up anywhere near as much blood. Though, to be fair, he did try to just knock people out first. A warning of sorts that if they got near again, he could and would do so much worse.

“Ah! Geralt! I was wondering where you got to.” Jaskier skipped towards him. Actually skipped.

“I had business to take care of.” What he didn’t expect was for Jaskier to push his lute onto his back and stand almost nose to nose with him.

“My wonderful White Wolf, always keeping an eye out for me,” he breathed, eyes flicking to Geralt’s lips. As if Geralt wasn’t paid to keep him alive. It sure as shit wasn’t Geralt doing this out of the goodness of his heart. All thoughts however flew from his mind as Jaskier tugged him in for a kiss. There was a hand in his hair, a tongue in his mouth and a hand drifted over his hip.

The sound of a gun going off was deafening and Geralt froze, eyes opening to see Jaskier, eyes open and staring past Geralt’s head even as they kissed. Pulling away, Geralt looked over his shoulder. There was a body sprawled on the ground, very obviously dead. And Jaskier’s arm was still out, gun in hand.

“I think you missed one,” Jaskier smiled merrily as if he hadn’t just shot someone in a back alley. There was no response to that, Geralt’s brain was a blank static as he tried to realign his opinion or Jaskier with this new information.

“What?” That was going to have to do. It conveyed everything and Jaskier liked to talk anyway.

As expected, Jaskier laughed lightly and tucked the gun he’d slipped from Geralt’s hip back into its holster and patted his cheek fondly. “Well, you’ve been doing such a great job of taking care of the bumps along the road, I didn’t see the need to intervene most of the time.”

The ‘most of the time’ had Geralt’s hackles rising. He was damn good at his job and didn’t need some two-bit idiot claiming to step in to mop up after him. He growled low in his throat, a noise that usually sent most people scattering in fear. However, Jaskier just laughed in his face and called him cute, proceeded to plant another kiss on Geralt’s lips and turned to continue his journey, expecting Geralt to trail after him.

Things didn’t get easier after that. Geralt was trying his best to keep professional and not ask anything about just who Jaskier was. But it wasn’t very professional to fall into bed with Jaskier at any chance he got. Motel bed, bathroom stall, once even in the car, pulled over on the side of the road. It was messy but so damn satisfying.

As always, things went tits up three hours before they got to their destination. There was a car chase that ended with Jaskier hanging out the window of their car and taking alarmingly good potshots at their attackers. They worked in tandem with more ease than Geralt had ever experienced with anyone. While he was on the offensive, Jaskier was restocking in more and more creative ways. He sent a Molotov cocktail of, actually, Geralt didn’t want to think about what he found in the hardware shop to use for that. It exploded, there were screams and they had a window of opportunity to run.

In a way, Geralt almost regretted it. Because while he was loading his guns, Jaskier was hurling hammers, wielding circular saw blades like his personal throwing stars and causing a rather gory mess. At least Geralt managed to wrangle the chainsaw from his grip before he went into a full on fight with that. It was the moment Geralt understood how Jaskier survived prison.

Outside the courtroom, Geralt turned to Jaskier, finally asking the question he had been wanting to all along.

“Who the hell are you?”

It was met with a delighted laugh. “Ever heard of The Bard?” Geralt shook his head. “Little Lark?” Another shake of his head and Jaskier looked both exhilarated and aghast. “The hitman of the century? The singing killer? No?”

“No.” Geralt shook his head.

“In which case,” Jaskier stuck his head out, “I’m Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove.”

“Oh,” Geralt heard that name before. “The one with all the sheep.”

Another light laugh and Jaskier nodded. “The one with all the sheep. Well, thank you for your help in escorting me across the country. I must go, take a plea deal. But be in Blaviken in a year. There’s a dear little cafe there, order me one of their chocolate twists and a cold chocolate for an 11 o’clock date. I’ll meet you there.”

Sure enough, Jaskier took a plea deal, his sentence was reduced from life to twenty-five years. How he thought he’d be in Blaviken a year on, Geralt couldn’t fathom. But once he got the chance, he sat down and did his research, to find out who exactly he had travelled with. And swallowed thickly in fear and awe. Because oh fuck, Jaskier had history and a list of kills longer than Geralt. And those were just the confirmed ones. Fuck.

Despite everything pointing towards the fact that Jaskier was in prison and with no way out, Geralt couldn’t help the small burning ball of hope in his chest. A year after the trial, he made his way to Blaviken. Even wore nicer clothes and brushed his hair - Jaskier had said it was a date after all. It felt a little silly to order for two when there was no chance his date would make it. But still, a coffee and blueberry muffin for himself, and a chocolate twist and cold chocolate for Jaskier.

Settling in the darkest corner of the cafe, Geralt sat back and waited. A shadow fell across his table and he looked up.

“I love the way you just sit in the corner and brood,” a familiar voice greeted him. For the first time in a long while, Geralt smiled.

#geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #the witcher #tldr: jaskier is a lazy hitman and lets geralt do all the hard work #cw: violence #hitmans bodyguard au of sorts #long post

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bookobsessed1412 · 3 years

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A ‘That Time I was Reincarnated as a Slime’ crossover. Vague idea I came up with earlier.

A child from a different world somehow finds their way into Rimuru’s kingdom and gets adopted by Rimuru. They grow up in Rimuru’s world before suddenly finding themselves back in their world at around the time they left as well as at around the age they left as well, probably having any abilities they gained removed in some way and having to gain them back with time. They grow up and are at least partly through their story's plot-line before Rimuru finds a way to them.

This idea is based off Batman Crossovers where one of the Batkids (usually Richard) is actually from a different world/time and ended up back in their own world/time after having been at the end of their time as Robin, at the very least, if not having become their own hero/vigilante already.

Fandoms I can see this as

Harry Potter(Rimuru would find his way to Harry in his 4th year, due to letters being sent to the families of the participants of the tournament. Harry sees Rimuru and company as his family, so the letter gets sent to them)

My Hero Academia(Izuku would definitely become a Vigilante after he gets back to his world. The majority of the people he knew and trained with while living with Rimuru where all stronger than even All Might, and they definitely taught him stuff. With Rimuru’s arrival in the MHA world, I can only see it happening in front of the entire class and their all gearing up for war until Izuku practically does a body slam of a tackle hug all while calling out “Dad!” And now they’re all confused.)

Katekyo Hitman Reborn(Rimuru would find Tsuna during either the coronation or a meet up with the other groups he’s allied with, and everyone there going straight to fight mode until tsuna gets them to back off, and then introduces Rimuru as ‘Lord Rimuru Tempest, ruler of the Jura-Tempest Federation and a part of the Octogram, as well as my adoptive father’ or something like that and everyone freaks out.)

Naruto(Rimuru would definitely introduce Naruto to Kurama and they would become friends. Kurama would then teach Naruto about chakra while the others taught him magic and stuff)

The Witcher(for some reason I can see Jaskier growing up under Rimuru only to find himself as a kid and back in Lettenhove and all his abilities sealed, though whether that’s because of returning to his world or because of something his ‘parents’ did is an interesting question)

#reincarnated as a slime #rimuru tempest #in another universe #my hero acadamy #vigilante izuku #bamf izuku midoriya #izuku midoriya #harry potter crossover #harry potter #katekyo hitman reborn #sawada tsunayoshi #naruto #naruto uzumaki #kyuubi #kurama #the witcher #jaskier #julian pankratz

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oh-for-fic-sake-library · 2 years

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Oneshots Drabbles

Here are all my oneshots drabbles and headcannons. you can find my long ongoing chaptered fics here on my Chaptered Stories Masterlist. and you can find my shorter series list here Ficlet masterlist

Disclaimer and my stance on RPF

Geeking Out (Henry Cavill X Reader/Fluff)

Babies New Specs (Henry Cavill X Little Reader-Fluff)

The Shoe Policy (Henry Cavill X Reader-Domestic)

Grand Theft Auto(Henry Cavill+Kal X Reader-Domestic)

Dress Codes, Nooky And Cock Blocks (Henry Cavill+ Kal X Reader- Domestic/Fluff/🥵)

Kal And Fatherhood (Henry Cavill+Kal X Reader-Fluff)

A Rainy day (Henry Cavill x Reader- Angst/Fluff/🥵)

Lemme See!! (Henry Cavill x Pierced/Tattooed Reader-Fluff)

Mummy’s Jealous Boy (Henry Cavill X Wife!Reader- Fluff, angst)

Pooh Bear (Henry Cavill+ Kal X Reader- Fluff)

Your Man In Action (Henry Cavill X Reader-Fluff)

Another Birthday Surprise (Henry Cavill+Kal X Reader-Fluff slight Angst)

A Clumsy Nugget (Henry Cavill X Little!Reader- Fluff)

Beanie Baby (Henry Cavill+Kal X Reader-Implied Smut,Fluff,Domestic)

Baby Snuggles… Drink and wet? (Henry Cavill X Reader/CHRISTMAS SPECIAL!/Fluff/Humour)

Forever Home (Henry Cavill X Reader- Fluff)

The Date (Henry Cavill X Reader-Fluff)

Deeper Then The Pink Tax (Henry Cavill X Reader- Angst/ Fluff/ Difficult subjects)

Their Alright… For A Boomer (Henry Cavill X BustyReader- Fluff, Suggestive)

Love Is Blind (Henry Cavill X Shelby!Reader- Peaky Blinders AU- Angslt,Fluff)

Your Perfect (Henry Cavill X Reader- ABO,Fluff, Angst)

The Mortals Claiming (Hades!Henry X Reader- god AU, Angst, Smut)

Fledgling (Vampire!Henry X Reader)

The Rubber Glove Experience (Henry X Nurse!Reader)

Panic In The Playroom (Daddy!Henry x Little!Reader)

The Assistants Assistance (Henry X Reader)

The Talc Slip Up (Henry X Reader/Humour/Fluff)

Chubby Rodent (Henry X Reader/Fluff)

Bubbles (Daddy!Henry X Little!Reader/Fluff/Humour)

Everything Works (Henry X Reader/Fluff/Humour)

Bring It On Bitch (Clark Kent X Reader-Fluff)

Ace In The Hole (Diana Prince X Teen Reader-Fluff?)

FUCK OFF! (Bruce Wayne X Reader-Domestic/Fluff)

A Soft Bunny~ (Clark Kent X Reader -🥵/PetPlay)

Mounting Mistakes (Clark Kent X Reader- 🥵/ABO)

The Ruined Cape (Clark Kent X Bratty Little Reader-Spanking)

L-Latex?!(Clark Kent X Mistress/Domme Reader-Humour/Fluff/Domestic )

We Didn’t Make It To My Birthday (Alpha!Clark Kent X Younger Omega Reader- A/B/O, 🥵)

Clark The God Of Munch (Clark Kent X Reader-🥵)

Lacking (Clark Kent X Reader-🥵)

Numb (Clark Kent X Daughter Reader- Angst/ Mental Health Issues)

A Breeding Bunny (Dark!Clark X Reader-🥵Dark Fic)

I Cant Feel My Legs (Dark!Clark X Reader/ A/B/O 🥵)

Super-Hubby Proof (Clark X Reader/ BDSM/ Humor/🥵)

(Taming A Pa-Bear(Platonic!Geralt X Reader/Fluff/Angst?Homour)

The Witcher’s Missus (Geralt X Reader/Angst/🥵)

Nanma? (Geralt x Mage!reader/ Jaskier X Reader Platonic/fluff/crackfic/suggestive)

Hybrid Oil (Geralt X Reader/ suggestive/ Angry Geralt)

Mine (ALpha!Geralt X Omega!Reader/ angry Geralt/ABO)

A Family (platonic Geralt X Reader/ Angst/Spanking/Fluff)

Your Best Idea (Napoleon Solo x Wife Reader-Fluff/Domestic)

My Phone Died…Sorry?(Walter X Reader/Fluff/Angst/Immplied smut)

A Little Crime Spree (Papa!Sherlock X Little Reader- Spanking)

His Grace’s Protection (Charles Brandon X Reader- Fluff/Angst)

They Hung Up (August Walker X Little!Reader- Fluff)

She Calls Me Daddy 🥵(August Walker X Reader Daddy Kink-Smut Exhibitionism)

Use The Zipties (Walter Marshal x Drunk!Reader)

Manny (Sy x Drunk!Reader)

The Graves Case (Sherlock X Reader)

OCD Christmas (Walter X Reader/ Fluff)

Dick Christmas (August X Reader/ cavillmas challenge/ smut)🥵

Finish What You Stared (Walter X Reader/ Foot Kink/ Suggestive/Fluff)

My Little Trinket (Dark!Charles X Reader/dark fic)

Math?!(Daddy!August X Brat!Reader/DDLG)

A Lil’Lady (Mob Boss Sy X Reader/ fluff)

Hitman Daddy Dom (Daddy!August X Little!reader/DDLG/Fluff)

Adoption Day (Daddy!Henry X Little!Reader/ DDLG/Fluff/Angst)

Please Do Daddy (Daddy!Walter X Subby!Reader/ daddy kink/ sugestive)

A Kept Woman (August X Reader/ dark themes/kidnap)

Princess (Sy X Reader/ Fluff/Humour)

Soft!Bdsm Relationship Dom!Henry Sub!Nurse

Wearing Plugs on a date Dom!Henry 🥵

Being A Jealous Little At A Party Daddy!Henry

Scolded By Another Daddy In Front Of Daddy!Henry

Tangled In Knots DDLG

When Your Knee Is Injured DDLG

A Maintenance Spanking DDLG

Caught Pigging Out DDLG

An Inner Ear Infection DDLG

Helping With Hate DDLG

Pms and Headache remedies DDLG🥵

Insomnia /Trouble Waking In The Morning DDLG

Caught Listening To Bratty Songs DDLG

Getting Scared Watching MI6 DDLG

Cutting Your Hair DDLG

Henry Answers A Zoom Call With Pretty Hair DDLG

Story time Wisdom teeth DDLG

Tooth Fairy Haggle DDLG

The accident DDLG

Sherbert and baths DDLG

The Icecream Van DDLG

Slapping Daddies Hand DDLG

Superman’s Dishcloth

Couples Race

Sugar haul DDLG

Yeah Daddy DDLG

Baby Hustle

A Headcannon Crack Series- Geralt see’s an opportunity to add to his family and finally have something both he and Yennefer have always wanted. A baby, now they just had to figure out how to look after it.

The Exchange / / Got Milk? / / Your Turn / /Hmm…Hm? / /Lil’Bleater

Misc

Vesemir and Geralt bath sharing M/F/M

Playing With August’s Knives DDLG

The Deal (Clark X Reader X August)🥵 / / Pt 2 / / Pt3🥵?

Malicious Compliance (Sherlock X Reader)

Coming Home Drunk (August X Drunk!Reader)

April Fools! (Sy X Reader) slight smut 🥵

Mocki (Sy X Reader)

Hair Pulling 101 Dom!Henry

A Latte (Henry Cavill X Reader- Fluff)

Swallow-Geralt Of Rivia

Ducky- Humphrey Mummy!Domme

The Making Of Sy’s Mini Me- Sy Smut

Walter Told You Not To Touch! Walter implied smut?

“Pull out” “No”-Sy Smut

Little Office Bunny- August implied smut

Jewel In The Crown August Walker

#oh-for-fic-sake masterlist #oh-for-fic-sakd fics #henry cavill fics #captain syverson #walter marshall #Napoleon Solo #clark kent #Henry sherlock #sherlock holmes #august walker #geralt #geralt of rivia

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ghostinthelibrarywrites · 3 years

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Geraskier Fic Masterpost

Series

Where There’s a Witcher: 9/9 installments complete. A modern with magic AU set on a 21st century Continent where Geralt is one of the last remaining witchers and Jaskier is a twentysomething blogger and aspiring musician who begins following Geralt around and singing about his exploits after Geralt saves his life. Features plenty of misunderstandings about modern technology, sass, monsters of the week, and eventual established relationship cuteness. Also features background Triss/Yennefer and Aiden/Lambert.

Only Human: 3/3 installments complete. A superhero AU set in modern-day Novigrad, where Geralt is a superpowered vigilante called the Witcher with a Clark Kent-ish secret identity as a mild-mannered reporter, and Jaskier is basically his Lois Lane. Features angst with a happy ending, identity porn, and Stregobor getting his ass kicked. Also features background Yennefer/Fringilla and Essi/Shani.

The Kaer Morhen Pack: 1/? installments complete. A werewolf AU where Jaskier and Geralt are married in order to seal a peace treaty between the rival Lettenhove and Kaer Morhen Packs. Only, Jaskier isn't really a werewolf, a fact that his pack did not disclose to Geralt.

Knot On Your Life: 3/? installments complete. A series of PWPs featuring alpha!Jaskier, omega!Geralt, and lots of knot puns.

Multi-chapter

We could be wolves: 48K words. E. Childhood friends AU where Geralt and Jaskier meet at the age of seven while Geralt is on his way to Kaer Morhen and they become best friends. Features part-elf Jaskier, truly excessive amounts of mutual pining, childhood trauma, and Geralt being soft.

this is the road to ruin: 31K. E. Working the night shift at the E-Z-Go, Jaskier is used to an assortment of strange characters. But Geralt, with his beat up old van, the swords in his passenger seat, and his occasional unexplained stab wound, may be the strangest. Jaskier can’t decide if he’s a LARPer or a hitman. Either way, he wants to know more.

If you want to (I can save you): 18K. M. A modern spy AU. Being an agent for the Redanian Secret Service is murder for one’s personal life— a lesson that Jaskier learned the hard way six months before, when his relationship with the love of his life, Geralt, crashed and burned. But when Jaskier’s cover is blown and a dangerous crime lord puts a bounty on his head, Geralt ends up in the crossfire.

Salt and Ash, Iron and Bone: 47K. E. After Geralt’s death, Jaskier returns to the fae realm, unable to live in the human world without the witcher he loved. When he’s attacked and nearly killed eight centuries later, Jaskier flees back to the human world, where he finds himself face-to-face with Geralt. This Geralt is a redheaded, freckled human with no memory of his life as a witcher or of Jaskier. But as Jaskier gets to know his oldest friend all over again— and starts to fall in love with him all over again— a mysterious enemy threatens both their lives.

Witcher of Surprise: 82K. E. Jaskier claims the Law of Surprise after saving a farmer from plunging to his death, only to learn that the man’s wife has just brought an injured witcher home to heal. Geralt is less than thrilled about being tied by destiny to a bard, but can’t find a way out of it.

One Shots

Once Bitten: 3K. M. Can be read as gen or pre-slash. After a bruxa attack, a bestiary written by an Oxenfurt professor has Jaskier convinced that he’s about to turn into a vampire. Geralt can’t figure out what’s wrong with his friend until it’s almost too late.

If You Give a Bard a Lute: 10K. T. After Jaskier’s father disowns him, confiscates all his possessions— including Filavandrel’s lute— and kicks him out with nothing but the clothes on his back, Jaskier spends a long, hungry winter barely surviving. When he reunites with Geralt in the spring, his witcher is determined to get his lute back, even if it means recruiting his fellow witchers to stage a heist.

Cryptid Fucking for Fun and Profit: 7K. E. When Jaskier, a vlogger and amateur cryptozoologist, goes hunting for the famed Bigfoot of the Blue Mountains, he gets more than he bargained for.

Someone Else's Coat: 4K. T. A songfic based on The Amazing Devil's "Drinking Song for the Socially Anxious." Feeling out of place at a party where he doesn't know anyone, Jaskier retreats to hide among the other guests’ coats. But he’s not the only one looking for a place to hide.

No, I Don't: 5K. T. Geralt and Jaskier are trying to navigate their way through a brand new long-distance romance after a decade of friendship. So when Geralt accidentally tells Jaskier that he loves him, he panics. Just a little.

Malicious Intentions: 7K. M. When Jaskier buys a tent to protect himself from the oppressive summer heat, Geralt takes it as one more sign that the foolish, soft-handed lordling has no place on the Path. But both Jaskier and the tent prove to be more resilient than Geralt anticipated.

Runaway Jaskier: 19K. E. When Geralt saves his upstairs neighbor from getting eaten by a bruxa, he plans to patch the kid up and Axii him into forgetting what happened. After all, the world has forgotten about witchers, monsters, and magic, and Geralt would like to keep it that way. Only, Jaskier has no interest in forgetting the coolest, most terrifying thing that’s ever happened to him, so he escapes out the window, leading Geralt on a wild goose chase across Novigrad.

All Hands On Deck: 1K. M. Trying to make a connection with his new friend and muse—and also trying to get into his pants—Jaskier asks Geralt to teach him about the only thing the witcher seems to care about, besides Roach and blessed silence: Gwent.

the moon will sing a song for me: 17K. E. When Jaskier returns after a full moon trapped in his wolf form, Geralt knows something is terribly wrong with his best friend and roommate—who Geralt may or may not have been pining over for the past decade. But as the days pass and Geralt, his fellow witchers, and Yennefer fail to figure out what's wrong with Jaskier, he starts to lose himself to the wolf. Can Geralt get him back before it’s too late?

Other Masterposts:

Main

Jaskel/Geraskel

Yennskier/Geraskefer

Rarepair

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #ghost's fic #ghost's writing #ghost's masterposts

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flowercrown-bard · 2 years

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Favorite Tropes in Fanworks

Thanks @samstree for tagging me!

Inspired by this Fanlore page. Game: Highlight your top 3-to-10 in each category and tag some friends with whom you’d like to compare notes.

Character Transformations

Aging Up (old Jaskier)

All Human AU

Animal Transformation

Bodysharing

Bodyswap

Centaurification

De-aging

Elf AU

Genderswap

Ghosts

Magic AU

Merpeople

Robots

Vampire

Werewolf (only read one with Geralt being a werewolf and i loved it)

Wingfic

Alternative Universe (AU)

Alpha/Beta/Omega society

Apocafic

Barista AU/Coffee Shop AU

BDSM AU

Crime AU

Cyberpunk AU

Dystopian AU

Highschool AU/College AU

Historical AU

Magical AU

Modern AU

Mundane AU

Noir Detective AU

Pirate AU

Pornstar AU

Prison AU

Punk AU

Regency AU

Rentboy AU or Hooker AU

Royalty AU

Slavery AU

Spy, Secret Agent, Assassin, or Hitman AU

Western AU

Zombies AU

Style, Theme or Setting

Accidental Marriage/Forced Marriage/Marriage of Convenience

Afterlife - Ascension

Anthropomorfic

Based on a Painting

Canadian Shack

Casefic

Constructed Reality

Crossover/Fusion

Curtainfic

Desert Island

Elevatorfic/Closetfic

Epistolary fic

Fake Dating/Undercover as a Couple

Holidayfic

Hurt/Comfort

Interspecies

Kidfic

Reincarnation

Snowed In

There Was Only One Bed

Time Travel

Individual Elements

Amnesia (when Geralt forgets who he is/who Jaskier is and assumes they’re together)

Didn't Know They Were Dating

Disability Fic

Doppelgangers, Evil Twins

Dub-con

Fever Dream (not ncessarily to read but i love writing these)

First Time

Hatesex/Enemyslash

Huddling for Warmth

In Vino Veritas/Truth Serum (if it gets mistaken for a love potion)

Kink

Magical Healing Cock

Mind control or Brainwashing

Non-Con

Pining

Pregnancy/Mpreg/Magical pregnancy

Presumed Dead

Fuck or Die/Heat Fic/Pon Farr/Sex Pollen

Skin hunger

Soulbond

Tentaclefic

tagging: @combatbootsfemme @flosimo @rebrandedbard @alllthequeenshorses @lycanbucky @tears-of-a-fool

#tag game #ohhh this was a fun one #there are so many good tropes

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witcher-trash · 3 years

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Geraskier Fic Recs

Here are some Geraskier fics that I have read recently/am currently reading:

Toss a Coin to Your Hitman (complete, 16k, explicit )

John Wick!AU where Geralt is a hitman and Jaskier is a sex worker. They keep having the same mark.

we are known by the stories we share (mature, wip, 55k, witcher!jaskier)

It was in the silence his ghosts were always their loudest, their most dangerous; in stillness their most unavoidable.

So Jaskier the bard sang his songs and filled the spaces. He hummed shanties long into the night, his fingers chasing up and down the strings of his lute like he had once chased his brothers and sisters up and down the rigging of their ships.

Now he'd finally found a mentor who could teach him the final lessons he needed to become a full Witcher. So what if he seems strangely overprotective? They are the last of their schools, and Geralt allows Jaskier to walk his Path alongside him. Wolf and Crane, alone together.

Too bad Geralt didn't realize what this strange human-seeming bard was actually asking of him.

if i'm good (will you come back?) (modern au, mature, wip, 5k)

Years after a messy, explosive break up, Geralt runs into Jaskier in the most unlikely of places: Ciri's middle school. Although surprised to see Jaskier with a child in tow, Geralt is more than willing to do what he can to show Jaskier that he has changed.

Bodyguard (Six Of Swords, Reversed) (modern au, explicit, complete, 70k)

So, yes, there were plenty of reasons why Geralt hated his job, but the main one, the one that truly got beneath his skin, was that this kind of danger seemed painfully fucking unnecessary to him. Why couldn't people treat those they'd paid to have sex with decently? Why did Geralt's job have to exist? And why did Jaskier have to be so obsessed with crystals?

The one where Geralt is a bodyguard to Jaskier, the gorgeous, highly strung, risk-taking escort to the London elite.

To give without knowing (teen and up, wip, 90k)

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

#geraskier #the witcher #geralt #jaskier #fic recs #trash speaking

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kushielsmercy · 3 years

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Bartender/Hitman Geraskier AU

NSFW | Tags in the tags, but basically non-graphic feral!Jaskier, Sub!Geralt, and poor moral compasses all around. Oh and I guess implied non-con (very passing reference). Despite the description - this is not dark. Also go read QueenForADay's actual mobster Geralt series because I blame this plot bunny on her.

Modern AU in which Jaskier is a struggling bartender and Geralt his favorite patron. Geralt always comes in late, near closing. But he never stays for more than one drink, tips 50%, and tells off (glares off? Words are rarely involved) large groups who try to come in ten minutes before closing. So Jaskier makes an exception to his “anyone who comes through these doors within a half hour of closing can burn in the deepest circle of hell” rule. And not that this impacts his assessment at all but Geralt’s got the broadest shoulders Jaskier has ever seen and long white hair with just the slightest hint of red highlights that he needs to get his hands on, like, yesterday.

Geralt is the right-hand and sometimes hitman of local kingpin, Vesemir. And one night he stumbles into a run-down pub after a bad job because it’s twenty minutes to his house and also twenty minutes to a drink and - yeah, no. Turns out the pub may be old but the bartender is a pretty young thing with bright blue eyes and clever hands and a lips that Geralt wants to see wrapped around his cock. But he clearly doesn’t know who Geralt is because he likes Geralt’s “highlights” (shut up Lambert, the blood never stains for that long - he’s keeping the white) and despite that still seems to genuinely...like him? Which is confusing enough that Geralt doesn’t order him to his knees on the spot like he would anyone else and instead keeps coming back just to - talk. Yeah, he’s confused too.

Talking aside, one evening when Jaskier locks the door early and flips the sign to “closed” Geralt has no objections whatsoever. Especially not when Jaskier saunters over to perch himself on the bar in front of Geralt; legs spread further than strictly necessarily. Their lips meet (Geralt was right, those lips do have better uses) and he grips the boy's thigh and yanks him closer and feels...a blade pushed against his throat.

So. Guess Jaskier has figured out who he is then, huh. Except what kind of crazy fuck finds out he’s been flirting with a hitman and then decides that the thing to do is to lock yourself in a room alone and threaten him???

...apparently the kind that Geralt’s cock is into.

Normally he’d just kill Jaskier then and there, but before he can move the boy traces his lips against Geralt’s ear and murmurs “I rather think this neighborhood has gone downhill - don’t you, my dear? No appreciation for local establishments. Why, this pub has been here for decades and yet most nights we get only a handful of guests. A shame,” he tisks, “If only someone of...influence, could encourage the community to buy local”.

Geralt should probably do some soul-searching about why being threatened seems to do it for him, but he’s a bit busy at the moment. Somehow he’s the one who ends up on his knees and he should definitely make Jaskier move that blade except Gods he’s never been this hard in his life.

After that Jaskier is still a bartender, just not a struggling one.

#Geralt is not a moral person #Jaskier thinks that's hot #Sub!Geralt who thinks he's a dom #He's wrong #Blackmail is fine if you get better tips #Honestly I think anyone who has ever been a server gets the sentiment #New political platform: abolish tipping culture to reduce local crime #the witcher #geralt of rivia #jaskier #geraskier #geralt/jaskier #witcher au #witcher fic #witcher jaskier #jaskier/geralt #shielwrites

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vagrantblvrd · 3 years

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Modern day spy/assassin AU where former singer/musician/~artiste works in a cozy little coffee shop neatly sandwiched between a bookstore and, idk, a flower shop.

Expected to be one of the hottest new stars coming out of Oxenfurt if it hadn’t been for that scandal with fellow band member and rumored lover Valdo Marx over alleged song theft and so on. Followed by a messy break up - band and personal - and a drawn out legal battle that drained what money Valdo hadn’t stolen from him.

(And a year or so after all that Jaskier doesn’t like to think about too much before he got his feet back under him and a friend mentioned this coffee shop she frequented, and anyway, he’s doing much better now and also somehow ends up owning it himself when its previous owner retires and sells the business to him for like, five bucks, because the power of friendship or something, idk.)

One day on his way home he stumbles over someone half dead in an alley and is like oh, oh, no because the last thing he needs is another scandal attached to his name?

Like.

He’s kept his nose clean for just over six month now, has been playing around with new melodies and bought a new notebook for lyrics and whatnot. Looked into playing at some local places, not really wanting to be a megastar or whatever these days, but he loves music and performing in a little bar somewhere would be nice, you know?

ANYWAY.

Turns out the guy isn’t actually dead, thank goodness but might as well be? Has this medallion around his neck, a cat? Which, okay, whatever he’s seen stranger and he’s getting his phone out to call an ambulance or whatever, crouched next to the guy.

Memory from the CPR course he took in college surfaces in his mind - the instructor was hot and even if Jaskier never got the guy’s number he learned valuable life skills. (And also met Shani and that proved better than getting the guy’s number because she’s one of his best friends and also incredible and anyway.)

Reaches out to check for a pulse, which is when the guy grabs his wrist - surprisingly strong grip for someone who looks like he lost a fight with a freight train - and hsi eyes snap open and they are...extremely striking and not at all normal - cat eyes, to go with the cat medallion and hahaha, oh shit, this is bad, bad news, isn’t it?

The guy tries to threaten him, which. Not as effective when the growl he’s trying for just sounds sad and pathetic, and anyway, there’s something...not fear, no, in his eyes, that has Jaskier forgetting to put the call through for an ambulance.

It’s very close to fear though. Worry? Concern? Something that Jaskier relates to in some incredibly fucked up way.

(The way he felt when Valdo Marx fucked him over and everything he’d built fell apart around him, and anyway, yes.)

He doesn’t even know why, he does, or why he ends up hauling the guy up to his apartment and patches him up best he can with wwhat he has on hand.

Will probably end up being murdered by the guy the moment he’s on his feet, but eh, that’s a problem for future Jaskier, really.)

Anyway, Aiden - because of course it’s Aiden - is super suspicious of Jaskier and his everything and there is indeed a moment where he pins Jaskier to a wall with a kitchen knife - it was an apartment-warming gift from Shani and Essi and Jaskier’s more worried about it being damaged than Aiden slitting his throat, which just confuses Aiden?

Because what even is Jaskier and his priorities???

But he doesn’t kill Jaskier and the knife gets put back and aside from that little bump in their relationship they actually become friends after that.

Jaskier takes to referring to Aiden as a stray cat whenever one of his friends or whoever asks why he buys more groceries or hurries home after work instead of sticking around to gossip a bit the way he usually does.

Aiden thinks it’s hilarious as opposed to insulting, which is great seeing as how Jaskier’s pretty sure the man’s a hitman or assassin or other similar career?

(Might be the way he mentions past jobs and his dark sense of humor and also the time he could have killed Jaskier if he felt he was a threat? So, yes.)

And Aiden, okay.

Got burned or something to leave him half dead in an alley for just anyone to stumble over and since Jaskier hasn’t made any fuss about him moving out decides he might as well stay where he is for the time being, you know?

He goes and gets a job...somewhere to help with rent and so on. Offers Jaskier enough hints to make it sound like he’s out murderizing people right and left the moment he’s out of the apartment, but then Jaskier sees him helping Triss bring in deliveries out behind the flower shop so he knows Aiden’s been fucking with him on that front and is like, dude, not funny.

(Aiden begs to disagree, but whatever.)

And then!

A month or so after Aiden’s back on his feet Jaskier runs into one of the owners of the bookshop next door?

New management and so on, and oh no, he’s exceedingly hot.

White hair and gold eyes and, sure, he’s not the most talkative guy around? But Jaskier’s cracked tougher nuts or some other way of phrasing it that doesn’t sound like a euphemism.

Also, also, there’s another painfully attractive man working there who is incredibly sweet and has a menace of a goat that they have instead of a bookstore cat?

Which.

Seems like a bad idea since Jaskier often hears about how Lil Bleater nibbles on the books if someone isn’t watching her and anyway, it means he gets to listen to Eskel lament about her latest misadventures while Geralt stands there and tries not to let on how amused he is by both the bookstoer goat and her owner and Jaskier is like shit, because Geralt and Eskel are so, so hot and he’s only human and Aiden, Aiden, do not laugh at his pain, you utter bastard of a man.

ANYWAY.

Shenanigans in which Geralt and Eskel think Jaskier has this insufferable bastard of a former stray cat at home and Jaskier piiiiines like a sad bastard while Aiden laughs and laughs and laughs.

(It should be pointed out that not once in all the time Aiden started working for Triss - and Geralt, Eskel, and Lambert - who Jaskier has heard all about but not yet met - have seen one another even though they spend most of the working day a few hundred feet apart, because Plot Reasons.)

And then!

Some shenanigans in which Geralt or Eskel - who are totally spies who are using their cozy little bookshop as a cover - get tangled up in trouble and Jaskier stumbles on them with this incredible sense of deja vu.

He drags them into the coffee shop to patch them up, and he forgets to lock the front door, which is convenient because then Aiden wanders in hoping for a free coffee?

(Power of ~friendship, and also roommates, and yes.)

Jaskier is kind of covered in blood - Geralt and Eskel’s - and Aiden is immediately in Assassin!Mode because he’s fond of Jaskier, right, owes him his life and such.

But also, Geralt and Eskel who have also had their oh, oh no he’s hot moment when it comes to Jaskier are likewise fond of him - and working up the nerve to ask him for a date, but that’s neither here nor there - go into Spy!Mode and there’s an honestly kind of terrifying, kind of sad stand-off.

Jaskier is in Adrenaline!Mode because fuck his life, of course Geralt and Eskel can’t just be incredibly hot bookstore owners and is like “If you fuck up my coffee shop I will not be happy, and also please consider my delicate sensibilities,”

Which manages to stop whatever fight was about to break out and he essentially does the Chris Pratt with the raptors thing, only with a couple of spies and his assassin roommate.

Pretends the three of them aren’t throwing menacing looks at one another as he patches Geralt and Eskel up and then is like “Well, that was fun!” because no, no it was not, and his heart is going to burst with all the tension and whatnot in the air. and hahaha, this is fine.

Which of course is when Lambert comes stomping through the front door and there is even more Drama and Angst because his ~forbidden relationship with Assassin!Aiden and heartbreak when it was assumed he’d been killed by his agency a few months back, but wait, he’s still alive???

And idk, just a lot of ridiculous spy movie cliche nonsense in which Jaskier is reluctantly dragged into things because he saved Aiden’s life that one time, and is piiiiining for Geralt and Eskel and of course he gets taken hostage and they have to band together to save him but shenanigans and ~plot twists and so on.

(And then when it seems all is lost Triss and her utterly terrifying girlfriend Yennefer actually save the day because they, too, are spies and Jaskier would honestly like to know if he’s the only normal person he knows or what, because really, what are the odds???)

Whenever the death-defying events and such are over Jaskier does, actually, go on a date with Geralt and Eskel and some smooching happens.

(Technically not their first, because that happened after they saved Jaskier’s life in that oh thank god none of us died moment after all the danger and excitement, but none of them mind, because smooches.)

Lambert and Aiden make fun of the three of them, but gently because they, too, are prime targets for mockery as they also decide to try a proper relationship and not just stolen moments here and there, and anyway, anyway

A year or so down the road Jaskier gets tired of coming home to find the two in compromising situations and is like, why, though, which conveniently happens around the time Geralt and Eskel approach him about moving in with them somewhere and he’s like, well, if he must, like he’s not thrilled about it because he’s kind of gone on the two of them, you know?

So they get this place big enough for the three of them and Lil Bleater and Aiden and Lambert get his old place and it all works out?

Sure, sure, there are a few close moments where Geralt and Eskel’s work puts Jaskier in danger, and that time whoever tried to kill Aiden targets Jaskier and so on?

But he’s like, eh, it happens, because obviously it does.

Which means Geralt and Eskel take it upon themselves to teach him to defend himself - and half the time it ends in smooches and sexytimes because hand-to-hand and being pinned to mats and adjusting his stance while learning how to use firearms and such, you know?

But also Aiden and Lambert teaching Jaskier knives and explosives - “I’m sorry, but one of these things is not like the others,” in regard to Lambert and his explosives, but it’s a ~bonding moment, so whatever.

(Also, also, that time Jaskier was able to defuse a bomb in some highly improbable and ridiculous bit of shenanigans with spy nonsense and Lambert being a smug prick about it for forever afterwards.)

And then Jaskier finds out Geralt has this incredible kid with Yennefer and what the hell is his life that all these people know each other and he doesn’t find out about it until ages afterwards, but anyway.

Ciri is awesome and after her Vesemir comes to meet the guy two of his sons are in love with, and Coen shows up along with other assorted characters I’ve forgotten and anyway, yes???

(Also, also, Yennefer happens to find out about Valdo Marx and she straightens out that mess quietly and efficiently in such a way that Jaskier doesn’t realize it until long after the fact and is like hm, because he didn’t think she particularly liked him, but apparently he was wrong? Which leads to brunch dates with her and Triss and gossiping about the other idiots in their lives and discussing Jaskier giving Ciri music lessons and anyway, yes.)

#witcher nonsense #geraskel #geralt/eskel/jaskier #aiden/lambert #technically not a fic #vagrant fic #stray cat au #¯\_(ツ)_/¯#long post #the witcher

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