#priscilla: OBVIOUSLY JASKIER WOULD

[bambirex]

It's A Game We Play

Pairings: Geraskier, Yennskier, Radskier

Characters: Jaskier, Geralt of Rivia, Yennefer of Vengerberg, Radovid, original female characters, Essi Daven, Priscilla, Ciri of Cintra, Valdo Marx

Additional tags: inspired by Mamma Mia! (movies), crack, alpha/beta/omega dynamics, omega jaskier, alpha geralt, alpha yennefer, beta radovid, awkwardness, jaskier is a good parent, protective jaskier, weddings, found family, post mpreg, fluff and humor, alternate universe-modern setting

Rating: teen and up audiences

Word count: 2,390 words

Chapters: 1/?

Summary: Jaskier's daughter is about to marry the love of her life, and she decides she wants both her parents at her wedding. Only problem is that Jaskier has slept with a little too many people in his youth, so the identity of the other parent is a mystery. That does not stop the bride-to-be from inviting three potential daddy candidates and unleashing absolute chaos in the process.

*

Otherwise known as Jaskier's terrible horrible no good past decisions leading to terrible horrible no good outcomes. Also known as the Mamma Mia! AU nobody asked for, but I wrote it anyway.

Author's notes: It's time for some crack!!!!! What do you get when you have canonically slutty Jaskier, and add Bambi being a multishipper who loves chaos? That's right, you get a Mamma Mia!AU !! I'm planning on using the plot of the first movie pretty loosely. As in, I will probably not do scene-to -scene recreations, but take advantage of the general idea and the setting!

Feedback is super appreciated!!! Let's get the party started!

Read on Ao3

*

“I can’t believe this day has come.”

“Papa, it’s not my wedding yet. I’m just trying on dresses, remember?”

“Still,” Jaskier smiled, blinking against the sentimental tears in his eyes, “my child is getting married. She’s picking out her wedding dress, how am I supposed to cope with this?”

Amaryllis cooed and leaned up to kiss her father on the cheek. Jaskier immediately wound his arms around her, enveloping her in a crushing hug.

“You promised no crying until the ceremony,” Amaryllis reminded him. Jaskier chuckled against her hair.

“I’m failing, obviously.”

But who could blame him, Jaskier mused as Amaryllis finally managed to pull away. He let his daughter take his hand and lead him inside the saloon, her steps happy and prancing, so adorably enthusiastic. Amaryllis was his only child, his baby, his light in this world. Of course, he would become emotional (over and over again) over the fact she was soon to be a married woman. Amaryllis’s fiancée, well, soon-to-be-wife, Sara, was the sweetest thing. Jaskier loved and trusted her, but that didn’t mean he didn’t worry. He always did: he was a parent, that was what he was supposed to do. His child was facing a huge milestone in her life. Jaskier was filled with fear, hope, and a tremendous amount of pride at the same time. He was just overflowing with emotions, and they manifested in constant weeping, apparently.

He decided to try and shut off the waterworks at least while they introduced themselves to the seller. She was a cheerful middle-aged lady named Kate, who heartily congratulated Amaryllis on her upcoming marriage, then she gave a sympathetic hug to Jaskier as well.

“It’s a huge thing, one of the biggest days in our lives,” Kate chirped as she led them further inside the saloon. “Therefore, it has to be perfect. Any ideas on your dream dress, dear?”

“Not sure,” Amaryllis admitted. She still held onto Jaskier’s hand as she looked over the numerous racks and shelves. “My fiancée will have a strapless dress, and it would be nice to match with her, but I think sleeves are more my style?”

“You should pick whatever you’d feel comfortable in,” Jaskier reminded her softly. “You will look beautiful in everything, anyway.”

Amaryllis gave him a bright smile and a squeeze to his hand before she followed Kate into the jungle of dresses. Jaskier raked his eyes around with a sigh. Fluffy dresses and sleek suits hanged everywhere from floor to ceiling, in every shape and every size. They all looked so pretty. Jaskier’s chest tightened for a second before he decided to look away and check on his daughter instead.

Amaryllis was an absolute dream to shop with. Instead of turning into the stereotypical “bridezilla”, she was calm and collected, listening intently to everything Kate told her. Jaskier was immensely proud of her. He also knew that if he were in this situation, he would probably break down five minutes in.

While Amaryllis disappeared inside the fitting room to try on a couple dresses, Kate approached Jaskier with a smile.

“Beautiful girl,” she told him earnestly. Jaskier grinned, proudly puffing his chest out.

“Thank you.”

“Yours, right? I can tell by the eyes. Same set of beautiful baby blues.”

“Ah, you’re so kind. Yes, she’s my daughter.”

“Are you planning a big wedding?”

“Not that big. More people on her fiancée’s side.”

Saying that out loud tasted bitter on Jaskier’s tongue. He wished he could give his daughter an epic ceremony, but unfortunately, he wasn’t on good terms with his family. His parents divorced while he was still a child, and he has only rarely seen his father after that. He’s always had a stormy relationship with his mother as well. She was a very strict, traditional woman, whose pride was greatly hurt when her husband left her. That was probably why she got so angry when Jaskier told her at the ripe age of twenty-one that he has gotten pregnant and had no clue from who. She wanted Jaskier to fulfill that idyllic family picture that she did not manage, and seeing her own child fail at it, too, caused her to cut ties with him. The only relative that Jaskier could count on was his aunt, the only person who has supported him after he ended up alone, pregnant, and scared out of his mind. Her death devastated Jaskier, especially because she didn’t get to see Amaryllis’s birth. She has left his beloved nephew a lovely gift, though, the Dandelion Inn. Jaskier has spent most of his childhood on the small island his aunt lived at, and he really enjoyed staying over at the Inn, even when he was an adult. It was a friendly, warm little motel that felt more like his home than his actual house. He has also met his two best friends there, who have helped him through many hardships.

Jaskier now lived on the island with his daughter and managed the Dandelion Inn. It was idyllic in many ways, and not very idyllic in other ways. Jaskier knew that an unbonded, mate-less Omega would always be the hot topic of every gossip, especially one that got pregnant so young. He has gotten better at handling the acidic insults, but he wished he could have protected his daughter against them, and he wished he could have provided her with the big, happy family that she deserved.

He quickly waved away the sad memories as Amaryllis exited the fitting room. Jaskier gasped and clutched a hand over his heart, willing himself not to tear up again. As expected, Amaryllis looked beautiful in her mermaid- style dress. Her smile shone brighter than the gemstones on the hem when she twirled around.

“My God, you look beautiful,” Jaskier whispered in awe. Amaryllis ducked her head with a shy grin.

“I like it. I think I’m gonna try the high-low dress, too.”

She tried on four more dresses, and Jaskier told her she looked gorgeous in every single one of them. Amaryllis groaned as she plopped down next to him on a pouf.

“You always say I look beautiful in everything, Papa.”

“But that’s the truth! No matter what you’ll pick, you’ll be the most beautiful bride.”

Kate disappeared to find some accessories to go with the dresses. Amaryllis waited until she was out of sight, then she turned to Jaskier with a look that indicated she was about to say or ask something potentially uncomfortable. Jaskier knew that look too well. It was the same, head ducked down, nose twitching, jaw slightly wobbling face she gave him when she told him she accidentally broke his acoustic guitar, and when she presented as an Omega and had to ask her father about the birds and the bees. Jaskier braced himself with a sigh, and a free cupcake that he retrieved from the tray next to him.

“I was thinking about checking out the suits, too,” Amaryllis started, choosing her words obviously carefully. “But then I was like, I’d rather have a dress. It’s traditional, and I know we’re both free spirits, but I think I’d like a really traditional wedding, you know? An Omega girl in a big fluffy dress, her Omega father weeping into his tissue in the front row…”

“Hey, I won’t cry in the front row,” Jaskier objected with a huff, “I’ll cry while walking you down the aisle.”

Amaryllis cleared her throat. She fiddled with the tulle on her dress. The clock on the wall ticked loudly in the silence. Jaskier didn’t even dare to breathe.

“What’s wrong, honey?” He asked, scooting closer to her on the pouf. “I feel like you’re trying to tell me something.”

“Well,” Amaryllis squeaked, avoiding Jaskier’s eyes, “iwantmyotherparenttowalkmedowntheaisle.”

Jaskier blinked in utter confusion. Amaryllis turned an alarmingly bright red, which was only accentuated by her snow-white dress.

“What… what was that?”

“Papa.”

“You said it so fast I couldn’t make out a single word!”

“God,” Amaryllis sighed, grinding her teeth in embarrassment, “don’t be angry! Just… I… I said that I want my other father, or mother, I don’t know? To… to walk me down the aisle… you know, all traditional…”

Jaskier was very glad he was already sitting, otherwise he would have probably collapsed on the floor. He waited for Amaryllis to reveal it was just a joke. For several, uncomfortable moments, Amaryllis stared at Jaskier, chewing on her lip. Jaskier stared right back, his brain drawing a complete blank page.

“Honey…” Jaskier squeaked out, “you know exactly I don’t know who that is.”

“But, maybe there’s a chance we could find them?” Amaryllis asked hopefully. “I was thinking a lot about this, lately. I would be really happy if we managed to find out who it is, so they could be there, too. I don’t know… maybe you still have some phone numbers? A hunch? Anything? It’s just… it would be nice.”

Jaskier let out a deep sigh. It’s been literal years since Amaryllis has brought up this subject. With each passing year, as she has gotten older, it has gotten easier to explain: it was the worst when she was still a little child, not understanding why everyone had two parents while she only had her Papa. It was even worse with her overhearing all those nasty gossips about how Jaskier was such a lowlife Omega, sleeping with everyone and having bastard children. When she was a little older, Jaskier could give her a vague explanation on how her other parent left, and how they were unfortunately not coming back. Amaryllis was already a teenager when Jaskier eventually revealed the truth that he had absolutely no idea who the other parent was. He didn’t give her all the details about how he was definitely enjoying his youth. He was a pretty hedonistic young Omega who gladly shared his heats and non-heats with many, many… many people. He didn’t tell her about his short-lived, heartbreaking romances and everlasting loves that only lasted for about a week. She was a smart child, she managed to put the pieces together anyway.

So, Amaryllis stopped pushing for an answer a long time ago, accepting the explanation that Jaskier didn’t know. It felt like a bucket of icy water was poured straight over his head when she, twenty years old and ready to get married, brought this up again.

“Look,” Jaskier told her softly, reaching for her hand, “I know this is going to be your big day, and trust me, I would give my left arm to make sure everything could go exactly as you wanted, including a full set of parents if that’s what would make you happy, but unfortunately… I can’t give you that. I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” Amaryllis squeezed his hand gently, “I didn’t say that to make you feel guilty. This isn’t your fault. I just… I guess I reminisced a little, and I daydreamed a little, and… when I imagine my big day… I see someone else there. With you.”

“Well,” Jaskier forced a grin onto his face, deciding to hide the sudden pain that flared up inside him with humor, like so many times before- the only way he managed to survive the heartbreak, the loneliness and the hopelessness he has felt through his life. That was the only way he could get through the pregnancy alone, that he could get through raising a child alone. The only way he could protect Amaryllis from feeling that pain.

“It seems like you’ll have to make do with your old, single father.”

“You’re not old,” Amaryllis reminded him with a laugh. “You had me when you were about my age. You’re still rockin’ and you’re still smokin’.”

“Such flattery. I assume the dress you want is really expensive, then?”

Amaryllis laughed and gave him a tight hug. Jaskier hid his face in her neck so she couldn’t see the way his smile faded.

Kate returned with the accessories amidst many apologies for going away for so long. She took Amaryllis with her again to try the jewelry with the dress so they could settle for the best option. There was an uncomfortable, churning sensation inside Jaskier’s stomach when he was left alone.

The last thing he expected was this. The idea that Amaryllis has been thinking about this again, that she might have felt sad over not having her other parent there shattered Jaskier. He never wanted to see his daughter sad, especially because of him. And sure, Amaryllis assured him it wasn’t his fault, but it kinda was, wasn’t it? If he wasn’t such a slut, sleeping with everyone who caught his fancy, this wouldn’t have happened. He could have committed to an actual relationship, bonded with a nice Alpha or Beta or maybe even another Omega, could have gotten married, and now Amaryllis would have a beautiful wedding with all her family there, because if Jaskier did that, his mother wouldn’t have disowned him, either. All he had to offer his daughter was his stupid self, a tiny inn, and a herd of goats that he also inherited from his aunt.

He looked into the golden-framed mirror on the wall and sighed at his reflection. He looked younger than his age, something he was very proud of, but when he looked closer, into his own eyes, he’s seen the burden of leaving his careless youth behind.

He spotted a veil on the hanger by the mirror. The ache in his chest amplified. He turned around, quickly checking that no one saw him, then he took the veil off the hanger. He turned it around in his hand, running his fingers over the thin lace. It felt heavy like lead as he put it on his head and checked his reflection again.

You could have had this, a voice inside his head that sounded suspiciously like his mother reminded him, if you weren’t such a loose, immoral Omega.

Jaskier cursed and took the veil off, putting it back on the hanger as quickly as he managed. No, he would not let his guilt consume him. He needed to be strong for his daughter. This was about Amaryllis and her beautiful future, not about him and his tragic past.

Jaskier could only hope Amaryllis would forget about her mysterious other parent.

#geraskier #yennskier #radskier #a/b/o #jaskier #geralt of rivia #yennefer of vengerberg #radovid #omega jaskier #alpha geralt #alpha yennefer #beta radovid #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher fic #my fic #mamma mia au

[caedes12]

Chapter 13

Next chapter is up! I have been so motivated recently and wrote a bunch of stuff. So now I just need to post it.

I am pretty sure this is going to have a part 2 and a bunch of spin offs, but let's see how it goes!

Once Burned (77148 words) by Caedes12 Chapters: 13/? Fandom: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Eskel/Jaskier | Dandelion, Aiden/Jaskier | Dandelion, Aiden/Lambert (The Witcher), Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion Characters: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Lambert (The Witcher), Aiden (The Witcher), Vesemir (The Witcher), Triss Merigold, Emhyr var Emreis, Priscilla (The Witcher), Shani (The Witcher), Eskel (The Witcher) Additional Tags: Threesome - M/M/M, Slow Burn, Not Canon Compliant, but canon ish?, taking season two and adding sprinkles to make it mine, Eskel is not like the TV show obviously, Geralt will learn to speak eventually, hm, Polyamory, no beta we die like men, Torture, Psychological Torture, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, but not NOT human, Spoilers, Artistic Liberties, Jaskier would be proud Summary: Jaskier volunteered to leave the safe house to get information to help Ciri despite everyone advising against it. But they didn't understand, he needed to leave. But Rience found him and took him to a Nilfgard black site to get information on her. He wouldn't cave to the torture. If only he could escape with his new friend and witcher cell mate. Perhaps, he can finally find himself useful. Useful enough to help Ciri, to stop Nilfgard, and maybe find a bit of peace along the way.

#geralt x jaskier #eskel x jaskier #geralt x eskel #the witcher #witcher fanfiction #once burned

[d-andilion]

this means war

@thepassifloradiscord's bards week - day 3: flower language

(valskier, university days, misunderstandings, angst but in a kind of humorous way, allergies, rejection, the rivalry begins, 579)

read on ao3

“It’s sabotage,” Jaskier growls, punctuated by another bone-rattling sneeze. 

He wipes the snot and spittle with an already soiled handkerchief and chucks it across the room in his frustration. Priscilla passes him another one from her seat at his desk with a look of pity and light amusement. 

“I think you’re being a bit dramatic, Julian,” she says.

“I’m not!” Jaskier wails in his now frightfully nasal voice. “Marx is trying to kill me, Pris! I told you he was out for my neck.”

Priscilla rolls her eyes but she doesn’t argue. She knows Jaskier is right deep down, he’s sure of it. He sneezes again and drops back onto his bed with a groan. It’s ridiculous, honestly, that he could be put in such a state by a handful of flowers.

Jaskier loves flowers for the most part. He prefers wildflowers, obviously, but he has an appreciation for the more popular sorts—roses, sunflowers, peonies, daffodils. Tulips, on the other hand, are his mortal enemy. For some reason, that particular bloom makes him sneezy and snotty like nothing else. He can’t breathe properly for days after an encounter with the sly devils.

The flowers behind this particular bout of illness were left at his dormitory door after classes had finished, a bouquet of bright red and yellow tulips bound together with a piece of silky ribbon. Jaskier picked them up with every intention of tossing them right in the bin, but that bit of contact was all it took. The first sneeze came within minutes and it had only worsened in the hours since.

Priscilla, despite her doubts, had been the one to uncover his saboteur. She’d seen Valdo Marx in the garden earlier that day picking the very flowers used to bring about Jaskier’s demise. And it could be no coincidence that their student showcase is to take place in two days’ time. There was nothing else for it. Marx meant to ruin him and take the first place prize for himself.

“I’ll get him back,” Jaskier swears, rubbing miserably at his itchy, reddened eyes. “Mark my words, Pris. This means war.”

~

Valdo finds the remnants of the tulips at his door the next morning. There isn’t much left, really. A few mutilated stems and a mound of squished petals. The ribbon is chopped up into bits and sprinkled atop the pitiful pile.

He scoops it up off the floor, trying very hard not to cry. He spent a whole day in the library pouring over volumes on the language of flowers. Tulips for passion, red for love, yellow for sunshine and happiness… 

Valdo thought they would be perfect. Perhaps he should have picked a different color? Or left a note? If anyone could understand the meanings of flowers, surely it would be someone who named themselves after a buttercup.

But that’s just it, isn’t it? Jaskier understood the message. He clearly isn’t interested. Valdo hadn’t realized his affections were so viscerally distasteful. Better to know than not, he supposes. Valdo dumps the clippings into the bin under his desk and curls up in bed. He only just got up for the day, but he doesn’t much feel like going out anymore. 

Fine, he thinks bitterly, scrubbing away a few wayward tears with his fist. If that’s how Julian wants to play, then Valdo is more than up to the task. If their love can’t be legendary, then their rivalry will go down in history. War it is.

~~

bards week masterlist

#my fic #mine #valskier #valdskier #jaskier x valdo #valdo x jaskier #valdo marx

[roughentumble]

Oh god now the idea of Geralt fighting for Jaskier is stuck in my head and I'm thinking of a totally different arranged marriage situation where Geralt and Jaskier are sorta just transitioning into a more romantic relationship when suddenly Jaskier's being informed his parents arranged a marriage for him and the weddings in like a week

Through some kind of misunderstanding, Geralt truly believes Jaskier will be happy with the husband/wife his parents found him and doesn't try to stop it. Meanwhile Jaskier's miserable at the idea and a little heartbroken bc "he didn't fight for me. He doesn't want me."

noooooOooo....... how can such cute conversations lead to such agony within me

#writhing. i am writhing on the ground #witcher tag #ogc tag #OK BUT what if then geralt bumps into someone (maybe priscilla?) and has drinks with them and ends up pouring his heart out #abt this Whole Situation(or at least. as much as geralt pours about anything. lots of forlorn glances across his mug of ale) #and after it all priscilla is like ''wtf. geralt i just saw him and he was MISERABLE. you have to go fix this'' #''you gotta go fight for him'' #and geralts like #geralt: i didnt want to assume. or put myself where im not wanted. he made his choice and i mean... who would pick a witcher anyway #geralt: *wallow wallow self deprication 'im not good enough to presume anyone would want me to inject myself in their lives'* #priscilla: OBVIOUSLY JASKIER WOULD??? JASKIER WOULD WANT A WITCHER???? YOURE SO DUMB OH MY GOD?????? #priscilla: STOP HATING YRSELF FOR 5 MINUTES U HAVE A JASKIER TO WOO #and eventually she convinces him(and also comes along becuz jask is her friend! and also she is a bard she loves drama) to #go and get jask!!!! and its very dramatic when he arrives on horseback calling out for jaskier

[help-i-need-a-cool-username]

So if Jaskier had a Tik Tok what would it be like??? Because i have such different ideas of what he would do depending on what stage of his life he's in (equivalents to: traveling with Geralt, currently (season 2), or future)

Like he obviously does singing but how popular is he? Is he up and coming or a established professional??

I feel like he does a lot of the dances and general trends with Essi and Priscilla

He spent a year and a half getting enough footage of Yen making faces or something so he could do a complementation to a specific audio trend

Do people follow him or do they follow him because half his videos are Geralt?

These include: zooming in on Geralt's face as he's bored or irritated while he's driving them to his next job, Geralt pretending not to know how to do a specific thing/know something, Geralt being soft with Ciri

Does Ciri make her own Tik Toks of him screaming singing along to songs in the car at full volume?

Does he constantly stitch Valdo tik toks because he's disagrees??

Is this later in his life and half his tik toks involve Yen and Geralt in their pjs because its established geraskfer/geraskier/yennskier/yenralt ?

I feel like he's one of the people who talks why he drives in tik toks

#hinacu witcher #the witcher #tik tok au #modern au #jaskier #julian alfred pankratz #geraskefer #geraskier #yennskier #yenskier #essi is in a lot of them #if he's famous then Essi is always his date to events (networking) and theres always at least 3 before or after hang out videos #i dont know much about canon priscilla #but Valdo as jaskier's nemisis for petty reasons will always be my headcanon

[valdomarx]

Anons requested: game!Geralt meets show!Jaskier

Jaskier braces himself as the air in front of him shimmers and shifts, and then, with a loud pop, a portal appears.

A stranger steps through: white hair, amber cat eyes, a striking scar, and an unfamiliar wolf medallion around his neck.

Jaskier stares. “Who are you?”

“I’m Geralt of Rivia.”

“No you’re not.”

The stranger actually laughs at that. “I assure you I am. I think I would know.”

“And I assure you, I am personally acquainted with Geralt, so I think I would know as well.”

The stranger peers closely at him and then turns, looking around at the scenery. He sighs. “Dammit, Ciri. She was supposed to send me to Skellige. This isn’t Skellige, is it?”

Jaskier shakes his head, growing only more confused.

The stranger lets out a long huff of air. “I hate portals.”

.

Jaskier takes... Geralt, he supposes, because it seems he really is Geralt, just a different one, to the nearest tavern for a drink they’re both sorely in need of. They compare notes about their respective homes, and Geralt isn’t the least skeptical when Jaskier floats the idea he could be from a parallel universe.

“Yeah, Ciri mentioned that possibility. Even visited a few other universes myself, although only briefly.”

Jaskier blinks. Well then.

As they talk, Geralt occasionally slips and calls him Dandelion. From anyone else, being called the silly nickname he was given as a child would make him furious, but from Geralt he finds it almost cute.

It doesn’t hurt that this Geralt is shockingly, horrendously good-looking. The Geralt he knows is handsome, obviously, but this Geralt has an undercut and a goatee and Jaskier desperately wants to run his fingers through both. He sits on his hands and resists the urge.

.

“He said what?”

They have reached the part of the conversation Jaskier has been dreading, where he has to explain why this universe’s Geralt is no longer with him - because he dumped his clingy arse at the top of a freezing mountain.

He’s expecting Geralt to look pitying or contemptful. Instead he looks incensed.

“What a dick.”

“He was going through a lot.” Jaskier feels the need to defend his Geralt, some old loyalty that’s never faded. “It was a very hard time for him.”

Geralt raises an eyebrow. “Hmm. At least you have Priscilla though, right?”

“Who’s Priscilla?”

“Oh. Maybe she has another name here? My Dandelion, he has a very dear friend who's also a bard. Lovely lady. Lovely voice.”

Jaskier shakes his head, feeling strangely embarrassed that he has failed to attract a companion in the same way as his counterpart. “There’s just me, I’m afraid."

Geralt pats his hand. Jaskier tries to hide his shock at any version of Geralt willingly initiating physical contact.

“I see.” A devilish grin crosses Geralt’s face. “So you’re single?”

.

Word travels fast in these parts, and a mysterious Witcher dropping through a portal attracts plenty of attention. So Jaskier isn’t surprised when, a few days later, a familiar white-haired figure stomps up to them in a tavern while he’s making himself comfortable in Geralt’s lap.

“Jaskier, who the fuck is this and what the fuck is going on?” Geralt, this universe’s Geralt, the original Geralt, however you want to put it, growls, gesturing at the Geralt Jaskier is perched on. He looks angry - even more so than usual.

Other Geralt huffs out a laugh. “This is him, I take it?” he says to Jaskier, nuzzling sweetly and more than a little possessively into his neck.

“Ahh, well, that’s rather a long story. This is also Geralt, as it turns out. Sit down and we’ll explain. Come on, don’t be shy. He’s really rather charming.”

Geralt narrows his eyes and his lips form a tight line as he takes in the beard burn all over Jaskier’s neck.

You think that’s bad, you should see the state of my thighs, Jaskier thinks but doesn’t say.

Still, after glaring for interminable seconds, he does take a seat opposite them, arms crossed, expression still thunderous. “Let’s hear it then.”

"We’ll explain everything,” other Geralt says evenly. “But first, a question for you: What, you idiotic Witcher, the absolute fuck have you been doing?”

Geralt opens his mouth indignantly but other Geralt barrels on.

“First we’re going to have a conversation about parallel universes and alternate realities. And then we’re going to have a much longer conversation about how we treat our friends.”

#geraskier #the witcher #my writing #game!geralt/netflix!jaskier is god tier #netflix geralt will get there eventually he just needs a little kick in the pants #game geralt x show jaskier

[wolf-and-bard]

The Geraskier divorce attorney AU of my dreams (hear me out):

-Geralt doesn't have regulars. Of course, he doesn't have regulars, he's a divorce attorney, a good one at that; sure sometimes there are clients that hire him twice because of mistakes or short-lived marriages, or he will have the odd person whose ex-partner he once helped, but in his ten-year-career, he's never once had a person come to him more than twice

-He has never married. The few long-term relationships he had didn't amount to anything in that regard and perhaps his job has spoiled the whole affair for him; there's never been a need either, he has his daughter Ciri, has his horse Roach which he rides on weekends, he couldn't be more content (or so he thinks)

(-Jaskier knows that many people would and do call him a whore, an adulterer, but he isn't. He is a romantic, a fall-in-lover, a dreamer, a free spirit. Which is why he gave himself the name 'Jaskier' (much more befitting of his character than Julian, what a common name) and why he tends to end up at the altar... more often than is strictly normative)

-The first time Jaskier enters Geralt's office, he acts as though it's the beginning of a Broadway show. He walks in, stands in the middle of the room and opens his arms wide. "Good day," he twitters and flashes Geralt the brightest grin. Geralt raises his eyebrows, but he isn't about to turn away a guy who looks affluent enough he can charge him a little extra. "Hello?" - "Julian Alfred Pankratz, call me Jaskier." Jaskier settles into the chair opposite Geralt's desk and puts his leather-clad feet up on them. Geralt pushes them off and asks: "Mr. Pankratz, what can I do for you?" - "Ah yes. My lover and muse, the Countess de Stael, has left me for another. The problem is that we got married just last month and I'm afraid she is going to bleed me dry if I don't have a proper attorney. You've been recommended to me by a friend. What do you say? Help out a fool?" What? Countess? Well. "Fine," Geralt says. "Let's talk fees."

-Jaskier is a lot and when the divorce is through and all aspects of their working relationship are settled, Geralt calls his babysitter - Yen's always happy to jump in on short notice - and invites his colleagues Lambert and Eskel to get drunk. Jaskier was annoying and exhausting, constantly babbling and flirting with Geralt and, god, he never wants to see him again.

-Of course, Geralt sees him again. By the time he does - half a year after the first time - Geralt has almost forgotten about Jaskier and his stupid Countess and how utterly drained that job left him. Jaskier sounds cheerful on the phone, not at all the common cadence for Geralt's clients, and comes into the office with two Macchiatos and a box of donuts; disgruntled, but unable to say no to sugar, Geralt allows for them to have the coffee over their conversation about Jaskier's upcoming divorce and it makes it more bearable. "So," Geralt says. "Give me a rough outline of the situation." Just to be prepared. Jaskier grins, wipes a sprinkle off his lips and takes a sip of coffee. "This is going to sound ridiculous, but hear me out. So about two months after you helped me last time, the Countess de Stael gave me a call..." Geralt wants to smack the man when he is done his well-embellished tale. Jaskier is obviously being used. But he's not here to judge, he's here to do his job and Jaskier pays well.

-The third is a woman called Molly. Geralt never gets to meet her, Jaskier never talks about her, it is as though she doesn't exist as more than a job to get done, a contract to fulfill. Aside from the topic of his soon to be ex-wife, Jaskier is more talkative than usual. He asks questions about Geralt's personal life, talks about his job - of course he's a broadway performer, 'star' doesn't quite apply - lingers. Geralt finds he... doesn't mind this time. It's nice to socialize for a bit, even if it is within the general bounds of his job. Jaskier makes him laugh somehow.

-"You should give me a discount," Jaskier jokes when he's there to leave a paycheck for Geralt for the fourth time (that Countess again, Geralt doesn't understand how they got married three times in a span of two years (in addition to that Molly woman)). "I don't give out discounts," Geralt replies. - "Why not? I'm a loyal customer, you should have a system for this." - "Mr. Pankratz, do you realize that you are the only person I know who goes through this many marriages in such a short amount of time?" - "Always knew I was special," Jaskier laughs and leaves with a small wave.

-"Okay, Geralt, what the hell?" Lambert asks, strutting in after Jaskier's gone with a bad temper written across his face. "Who is this man? And why does he keep coming back? You know I can hear his voice from my office. So if, like, you're having some sort of strange workplace affair, cut it the fuck out." -  "He's just an idiot who keeps getting married," Geralt says and waves Lambert away. He doesn't add that he kind of starts to miss the idiot.

-Priscilla is very nearly a different story, something Geralt only finds out after the fact. Jaskier breaks down before their court appointment, sobbing into Geralt's shoulder that he can't do it, he can't let her go, why doesn't she want him; by that point Geralt has known Jaskier for almost four years and the thought of him staying in a marriage for longer than half of one makes him queasy, gives him little bursts of pain against his breastbone; in truth, he's glad Priscilla's leaving Jaskier, antsy that it took almost a year for them to split up; she approaches him after the divorce is through, while Jaskier's in the courthouse bathroom crying his eyes out. "Tell him I'm sorry," Priscilla says and Geralt scowls at her. "Tell him I wouldn't have left him if I didn't have to. Tell him to wait for me." She leaves and Geralt doesn't even know why he should be the one to relay that message to Jaskier and so he doesn't. Jaskier never mentions her again.

-The sixth time is the Countess de Stael again and Geralt already prepared his case from the e-mail Jaskier sent ahead. The last three times all went in favour of the noblewoman who was able to protect her fortune, but Geralt thinks he can make a case for emotional manipulation and get Jaskier at least a sizable indemnity. "Mr. Pankratz," Geralt says when Jaskier comes for their appointment.  "Are you ever going to call me Jaskier?" Jaskier replies with a sigh and drops into the chair. His hair is tousled, there are deep half-moons under his eyes which look like he spent the whole night crying. Geralt's heart feels bruised, but he can't get involved dammit. "That would be inappropriate," he grunts. They get to work and Jaskier walks out with a broken-heart and a swollen bank account.

-"When will you give up on that woman?" Geralt asks when Jaskier saunters into his office one Friday, not three months after the last divorce. It's late afternoon and Geralt's ready for a weekend of watching Disney movies with Ciri, but Jaskier's always a sight for sore eyes these days. Not for the first time does Geralt consider asking him out for coffee, but the fact that he's only ever seeing Geralt because he's in need of a(nother) divorce somehow poses a barrier. "Now that is not very professional of you. To answer your question: right now. That's why I'm here." And for the first time with these two, it's Jaskier that wants the divorce, Jaskier that takes the initiative. He's only ever been the one to get dumped. Geralt's up all night thinking about that.

-For an entire year, Jaskier does not return and that annoys Geralt. He finds himself fretting, distracted, hoping Jaskier will turn up with another marriage to be dealt with, but he doesn't. The thought that Jaskier might have found someone he wants to stay with makes him physically ill. His code of conduct forbids him from using Jaskier's contact info though. Maybe this is for the best and anyway, Geralt is down to earth while Jaskier is... well, Jaskier. An emotional roller-coaster. He has his daughter and his horse and all is well. Only it isn't because Geralt managed to fall in love with Jaskier. (When Lambert and Eskel find out they laugh at him for two hours straight)

-Jaskier does turn up eventually, but not to get divorced again. He waits outside the building where Geralt works with two cups of coffee in hand and a tired smile. Geralt lets himself be led to a nearby bench, lets Jaskier speak. "I considered proposing to random strangers just to have another botched marriage for you to get me out of," Jaskier says. "But that would have been rather inconsiderate and there are easier ways to see you." - "I thought you might have found one that sticks," Geralt replies, tracing the rim of his coffee cup with a finger. "I might have."  Jaskier winks at Geralt and Geralt decides to throw caution to the wind. He leans over and kisses Jaskier's lips, then mutters, "I don't ever want to see you in my office again." - "And here I thought that your desk would make such a great hmph..." Geralt shuts him up with another kiss. It feels right.  

#jaskier #geralt #geraskier #gerlion #geralt x jaskier #the witcher #witcher #modern au #headcanon #cw swear words #lambert #priscilla #countess de stael #geralt of rivia #this was fun to imagine #things I'm never going to write #my geraskier dream AUs

[innocentbi-stander]

Alright we’re doing this, in the anticipation of season 2 I’ve been obsessing over the potential for a jaskier spin-off series

Like, obviously we need jaskier and geralt content, but can you imagine the sheer chaos, the opportunity for feral jaskier his own series would bring?

Some fun aspects might entail:

Plot ft. Spy/assassin jaskier casually causing chaos amongst courts and nobody putting the dots together that at every ball the great bard jaskier attends, somebody dies

Jaskier in a series of increasingly elaborate disguises, including a remarkably convincing noble lady that scares the shit out of Mousesack

Jaskier sneaking into Cintra to visit Ciri and tell her tales of witchers

A frankly insane number of sexual exploits that result in jaskier fleeing from many a town

Jaskier becoming grudging friends with Yen, bonding over their love of wine, bitching about geralt, and all the court gossip

The bard getting to show his own competency, even some badass assassin moments (I would 100% support jaskier having some kind of spy/assassin crew who all work together sometimes)

Jaskier starting many a bar fight (and finishing them, Melitele help him) over people shit talking witchers

A running gag of jaskier constantly avoiding geralt (post mountain of course) as the Witcher is apparently searching or st least asking after him

Jaskier accidentally swindling his way into some sweet sweet immortality from some increasingly ridiculous ways

Of fucking course we get to see the valdo Marx rivalry up close and personal, maybe jaskier even gets to take a swing at the smug bastard

I love the idea of jaskier having a network of completely bizarre people and creatures that he’s managed to befriend across the years

Just jaskier going on his own set of side quests and adventures, getting up to shit and all kinds of trouble, all the while looking fabulous along the way

Jaskier totally doing Fine without geralt, he doesn’t miss him at all, nope, nothing there to see

The dynamic duo of jaskier and essie (or Priscilla) fucking up oxenfurt

And we mustn’t forget the obscene potential of jaskier encountering other witchers, especially the other wolf witchers and the shit they could get up to without geralt’s knowledge

All in all now that I’ve thought about this I want it more than life itself, thank you for coming to my TED talk

If anyone would like to hear more of my ramblings in a part 2, let me know!

#jaskier #geraskier #geralt #the witcher #bamf jaskier #geralt of rivia #the witcher jaskier #witcher geralt #witcher jaskier #immortal jaskier #non human jaskier #elf jaskier #feral jaskier #jaskier and yennefer #they will be friends in this I stg #yennefer #powerful jaskier #assassin jaskier #spy jaskier #he’s a disaster but he’s good at it I promise #let jaskier be a badass #I beg of you #Jaskier gets up to shenangians on his own #fuck you geralt #apologize already #I would SALIVATE if this show became a thing

[dapandapod]

Two Pillows

Hello there! Here be a little story (2098 words only) of Geralt and his loneliness. And how he fights it and how he fights himself! 

Here on Ao3  and thank you a billion @damatris for helping me reading through it and giving me a thumbs up! The ending has been glaring at me for weeks...

Please enjoy <3

Geralt has picked up a habit over the years he has been traveling. He isn’t a lonely man per say. He doesn’t feel the need to be close to others necessarily. He just sleeps better with two pillows. One he is propping under his head, it is a bit flat and worn out, just perfect. The other one is a little bigger. Just a little fluffier. No one asks about the two pillows, why should they? Who cares about a mutant's sleeping habits?

So when no one but the stars are watching, Geralt cradles it in his arms and holds it close. Curls around it and keeps it safe. It smells like him now. He doesn’t mind, but he prefers when there is someone else's smell on it sometimes. It happens that he hides a soap from Kaer Morhen inside it, when leaving the empty halls hurts more than usual. It smells of pine, if Lambert was the one doing the soap that year it sometimes smells like beer.

It’s not that he pretends that he is holding someone. It just is. It’s fine. Geralt sleeps in his bedroll with his pillows, and the aching loneliness inside is kept at bay. Sometimes he thinks of Renfri. Sometimes he thinks of Eskel. Sometimes he thinks of his mother, faceless after all these years.

Sometimes he thinks of arms returning the embrace, of a heart beating under his ear, of a hand stroking his hair as he falls asleep. But it’s the wind stroking his hair as he falls asleep. His pillow pressed against his chest. The only heartbeat is his.

It happens that Geralt travels with people. Sometimes it’s a merchant going the same direction, sometimes it’s a hunter or just a farmer bringing their goods to the market. Those shared nights are complicated. Instead of holding his pillow close, he watches the star travel across the sky. When morning comes the only rest he got is meditation. Which is fine, he can make due.

   Then Posada introduces him to a certain bard, and he finds his nights changing. He doesn’t trust the bard. Doesn’t like him. He brought nothing to their travels, not even a bedroll. He managed to talk Geralt into letting him borrow the fluffy pillow, but failed at getting a place in the bedroll. The summer nights are still warm and Geralt is kind enough to make camp where he finds the grass thicker, the moss richer. He learned that first night that Jaskier sleeping poorly is a Jaskier that won’t shut up.

But that means Geralt only has one pillow. So he meditates the nights away, because truly it is fine. He can sleep without holding something, but he doesn’t trust the bard yet. That’s it. He listens to Jaskier snuffle in his sleep, his snores and hums. He is never quiet, that man, and Geralt finds it settles him. It becomes a backdrop, a constant he doesn’t even realize he needs until it leaves. Jaskier does that sometimes. Leaves.

They spend winters apart. Sometimes a whole year. Jaskier still borrows his pillow, after all this time. And that first night Geralt holds it, it smells like spices and warmth, achingly familiar. And if he holds it a little closer, digs his fingers into it a little harder, only the stars are there to see it.

    What irrevocably changes things however is when Geralt falls asleep with Jaskier in his arms. They don’t mean to, but the summer festival had them both in a merry mood and deep in their cups. Jaskier can’t seem to find his own bed, and decides Geralt's bed is good enough. Some shuffling, wrestling and resignation later, Jaskier steals Geralt's fluffy pillow once more and wriggles into the circle of his arms.

It is late. So late it is bordering on early, and Jaskier falls asleep immediately. But Geralt’s mind is spinning. He has held people before, of course he has. But something settles in him, clicking into place. He is home. Geralt doesn’t even notice falling asleep. Doesn’t wake when the sun shines in through the window, doesn’t stirr when the smell of cooking breakfast drifts up towards them.

When he comes to, there is a heartbeat under his ear. There is a hand stroking his hair. Someone holding him close. They smell like spices and warmth. And Geralt knows he is well and truly fucked.

  They don’t talk about it, why on earth would they talk about it? But when they part, the pillow is not enough anymore. The smell of Jaskier quickly fades from it, and he finds that he is saving it. Savouring it. So the pillow sits unused, waiting for Geralt to break or for Jaskier to come back.

    Winter is hard. Too hard. Geralt breaks first, holding the pillow tight. When spring finally comes he is more exhausted than he has been for a long time. Lambert and Eskel share a worried glance, but Geralt doesn’t have time. It’s not that they usually decide a time and place. But this year Geralt wishes they had. He is not sure what he wants, and how to express it. He needs Jaskier close, even if it is only him borrowing the pillow. A something to make the path easier.

Their roads don't cross. Sleep eludes him, keeping his sanity hostage. Geralt breaks again, and finds himself in Oxenfurt. Jaskier is there, surprised to see him. On his arm is a beautiful blonde, Priscilla is her name. They performed together during the winter and made a contract with one of the local inns to stay until summer. It’s not fair.

   Geralt leaves without his bard, returning to his sorceress. Lilac and gooseberry stick to his skin as they again soar, crash and burn together. On a mountaintop far above the world, it is for the last time. Jaskier is there, caught in their flames. It is not fair, Geralt knows it is not fair. But Jaskier brought his own pillow on this blasted hunt, and Yennefer pushes him towards an edge he has been toeing for years. He doesn’t even notice falling until it is too late. And he is pushing Jaskier out of the way, shoving him out of reach with all his might.

   Time is strange. It passes him by, he is a pebble sitting in a stream watching the world pass by. And like water eats away stone, so time is wearing Geralt down. Geralt returns to Oxenfurt. Searching, looking, aching for his friend, his bard, his home. Priscilla meets him with an acid tongue. Jaskier isn’t there. He didn’t return at all, sending word that he is taking some time off and going to the coast.

He knows he is a bad friend. Knows he is a bad man, a bad witcher for risking human lives for his own stupid longing, his need to keep Jaskier around. But he can’t help it.

   Geralt finds Jaskier at the edge of a cliff. The wind is raging, tearing at his hair and clothes. The waves crashing against shore with an anger he can only find in nature. They watch each other against the backdrop of a grey sky. Jaskiers face is impassive, strange, guarded when Geralt walks up to him, falling to his knees. He can’t keep going any more. There is nothing left of him but the aching sadness and loneliness. The absence of friendship, laughter, spices and warmth.

“I'm sorry.” He croaks out, words stolen by the wind. “I’m so sorry.”

Every beat of his heart is agony, his eyes burn and his chest aches.The ground is cool and slightly moist under his knees, sand and salt seeping through his trousers. He can’t look up at Jaskier. He watches his shoes, well worn and a little stained.

Then there are warm hands on both sides of his face, and Jaskier tilts his chin upwards. So many emotions are swimming behind Jaskiers eyes, his brow set and lips a firm line.It feels like he hasn’t aged a day.

Jaskier doesn’t say anything, just wrapping his arms around Geralt's shoulder and tugging him into a hug. Geralt's face is pressed against Jaskiers stomach, and he can smell the warmth, the spices, the fabric soft under his cheek.

   Geralt didn’t plan ahead, didn’t think any further than finding Jaskier again. He should have, and they end up sharing Jaskiers room at a nearby inn. Geralt almost wants to offer him his pillow, selfishly collecting his scent for that inevitable parting. But he can’t, not when the inn already has enough. There is only one bed though, since Jaskier didn’t count on company. Geralt offers to take the floor, and Jaskier almost lets him.

But he scoots over, making room for Geralt on the bed. They don’t speak, just lay down facing each other. Jaskier has obviously been sleeping here for a while, and being surrounded by his scent makes something inside Geralt unclench. They watch each other, waiting. Waiting for what, he doesn’t know, but wait they do.

“Why?” Jaskier asks him finally. His voice is hushed, as if afraid to disturb the silence.

“I had to. I couldn’t pull you down with me. You-...” You are too precious to me. Geralt almost says it, it is on the tip of his tongue before he stops himself.

“I what Geralt? I can’t read your mind.”

“I don’t need you.” Geralt mumbles, and Jaskiers brows furrow in hurt. “I don’t need you, but I want you. So much. When you are around, I-..:” Geralt falters again, and Jaskier waits in silence.

“When you are around, I settle. I can’t describe it. I want you around, and that is selfish of me.”

“That sounds like need to me, Geralt, and it is not selfish. You are allowed to want things.”

“You are not a thing.”

“No, I’m not.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You said.”

They don’t talk anymore after that. They look at each other, and then Jaskier hands Geralt another pillow to hold and turns his back on him. He knows. Of course he would have noticed. Shame burns in Geralt, and he wants to hold Jaskier, but he isn’t sure it would be welcome. So he burrows deeper into the blanket, surrounded by Jaskiers smell, and holds the pillow tight.

   When he wakes up, he is still holding the pillow. It is warm and sweaty, and Geralt soon finds out why. Jaskier lies pressed against his back, arm slung over his waist, forehead leaning against the back of Geralt's neck.

Geralt stays still, no matter how sweaty he is he doesn’t want to break this hold. It is a little unfair of him, because Jaskier likely did it in his sleep rather than by choice. He lies there and waits for the inevitable, for Jaskier to wake up and pull away. When Jaskier finally wakes up, it is at least an hour later. Geralt possibly slumbered a bit too, feeling too safe and comfortable to fight it. And now, Jaskiers heartbeat is picking up and he is getting tense. Before Jaskier can do anything, say anything, Geralt places his hand on Jaskiers.

“Stay?”

He regrets it the instance he opens his mouth, but somehow, for some reason, Jaskier stays.

“You are right.” Geralt confessess. “It’s a need. I need you. You are-” And he falters again, pulling in a shuddering breath. Jaskiers fingers flex under his, but he waits silently until Geralt is ready.

 “Missing you is like missing home. You are home to me.”

Geralt wants to flee. Wants to run. Wants to take back his words and hide them again, shove them back into the deep darkness. But they are out. And they were heard.

 “Geralt…” Jaskier is shuffling backwards, cold and empty space between them.

 He knew it. He knew it would be too much, too soon. But he was ready for it, but it still hurt.

 “Look at me.” Comes from behind Geralt, and he turns, shifting with the pillow still in his grip. Jaskier's eyes are gentle, but he can’t read them. Doesn’t know how to interpret them.

 Jaskier grabs the pillow and pulls it out of his grip, eyes never leaving his. He tosses the pillow on the floor carelessly, and it’s strange, so strange.

 “You are my home too.” Jaskier says quietly, placing his hand around Geralt's wrist, pulling him closer.

Oh.

Geralt breaks again and again and again, and he reaches out with both arms, pulling Jaskier to his chest, holding him close.

 Finally holding him close.

#geraskier #the witcher #the witcher netflix #geralt of rivia #geralt sleeps with two pillows #geralt is a wee bit lonely #lonely geralt #the mountain scene #you know the one #soft #dapanda writes #julian alfred pankratz #jaskier the bard #witcher geralt

[jaskierswolf]

Wolfie darling.... Doctor Geralt and mayhaps a girl he knocked up or something, but they keep making eyes at each other, and jaskier turn up alone one day (yes this is literally the summary you gave before but i crave it so i will send it becasue aahh) and there is such tension but Geralt doesn't want to break up Jaskiers presumed relationship, and Geralt is their doctor, and Jaskier is technically not the patient so they end up baning against the wall, please and than you! <333

Me: I will keep prompts short.

Also me: Here have 1.6k

This is based off the song 'Bad Idea' from Waitress

CW: pregnancy, cheating (geraskier both have partners), sexual content but not explicit.

_______

Bad Idea

Jaskier wiggled in his seat as he sat next to Priscilla in the waiting room. She was six months pregnant with his child after a one night stand that had gone wrong, and because he was a good guy they’d decided to give a relationship a go. His mother had been pressuring him to propose to Pris every time they spoke, which would have been a grand idea if they were in any way suited to each other. But they weren’t. Pris wasn’t even sure she wanted the kid but it was too late to turn back and Jaskier certainly wasn’t ready to be a father.

If he were being completely honest with himself then he’d admit that the only reason he even came to these appointments was because of the very hot Doctor Rivia.

Jaskier always found a way to stay after the appointment, which really had started out innocently but ended up with Jaskier being pressed against the wall, Geralt’s lips crashing into his.

One kiss.

That’s all it was.

And Geralt had practically thrown him out the room after. It was obviously a mistake that wouldn’t be repeated, so why was he so nervous? His leg bounced and he couldn’t sit still, a rush of energy making his hands shake and the world seemed all too loud and too bright around him.

The rest of the waiting room sat in silence between coughing or the odd sound of a child talking to their parent. The whole place stank of cleaning products and old people… so it was just even more humiliating that Jaskier was fighting to keep his dick under control.

Really he couldn’t be blamed, not when Geralt looked like that. He was tall, muscular, smart and yet such a fucking dork; just Jaskier’s type. Oh and let’s not forget unobtainable. They were always unobtainable and Geralt was no exception. He was happily married to a beautiful successful businesswoman and had the sweetest little daughter, or at least that’s what Jaskier assumed judging by the photographs in Geralt’s room.

Fuck.

Why hadn’t they been called yet?

“Jask?” Pris asked, startling him from his inner turmoil with a light touch to his arm. “I need to go to the bathroom. If I get called, can you let Doctor Rivia know?”

Jaskier nodded, chewing on his lips as he tapped out a rhythm on his leg. “Of course, dearest.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

He’d been counting on Pris being there as a barrier between them, and of course as soon as she was out of sight the intercom pinged calling Priscilla to Doctor Rivia’s room. He didn’t even have time to panic as his head started to spin and all the blood rushed from his face. Jaskier swallowed and stumbled to his feet, walking in a daze towards Geralt’s room.

It was as if there was no oxygen left in the hospital, and he could swear he could feel the heat of everyone’s gaze burning into the back of his neck. His mind kept drifting back to the few blissful seconds of kissing Geralt, a passionate, desperate collision of lips, tongues and teeth. The memory seared into his brain, into the very cells of his body. If he lived for a hundred years he would never forget that kiss. He just couldn’t help himself. Geralt was a flame and he was the moth, the compass pointing to Geralt’s north.

Iron filings pulled towards the magnet…

“Nah, that’s shit,” Jaskier muttered to himself as he ran his fingers through his hair before taking a deep breath and knocking on Geralt’s door.

A shiver went down his spine as he heard Geralt’s gruff, incredibly sexy voice say “Come in.”

God, what Jaskier wouldn’t do to have that voice whispering all sorts of dirty things into his ear…

He licked his lips as he pushed open the door, fighting the blush that was no doubt painting his face as he met Geralt’s eyes. The doctor frowned as he raised an eyebrow at Jaskier, then smirked, cocking his head as he spoke.

“Priscilla, welcome, take a seat.”

Jaskier snorted, flopping down onto the table. “Oh haha, very funny Geralt- Doctor Rivia.”

“Geralt is fine.”

“Geralt,” Jaskier mumbled, unable to take his eyes off of Geralt, golden eyes dark as they dropped to Jaskier’s lips.

It felt as if they were bonded together, an invisible tie from Jaskier’s soul to Geralt’s, pulling them together. Jaskier’s heart was racing in his chest and he fell into Geralt’s arms before he’d even realised he was moving. Their lips pressed together for one amazing, mind-boggling second, Geralt’s hands cupping his face and holding him close. He tasted like sweet, delicious coffee and smelled like heaven; addictive, sinful… so very tempting.

A demon sent to claim Jaskier’s soul.

And then they stumbled backwards, both plastered against the wall on opposite sides of the room.

“Jaskier,” Geralt groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s a bad idea; me and you.”

With a nod, Jaskier bit his lip, hands tugging at his hair and making a complete mess of it. “I know, I totally agree.”

His heart didn’t stop racing and he had to grip onto the wall behind him to stop himself from launching back across the room. Geralt seemed to be having a similar struggle as their eyes met again, his face was flushed and there was barely a speck of gold left in his gorgeous, haunting eyes.

“It’s a bad idea, me and you,” he repeated, his fingers shifting from his nose to press against his forehead but neither of them could keep their eyes off each other for long.

Jaskier’s eyes flicked to the door where Priscilla could enter at any moment, licking his lips as he turned back to Geralt. He wanted to move closer but couldn’t leave the wall for his own sanity, so he ended up circling the room opposite Geralt. Both drawn to each other, neither allowing themself to give in.

“You have a wife,” Jaskier pointed out, as if he didn’t already know that.

“You have Priscilla,” Geralt agreed, and both of them spared another glance to the door.

The unlocked door…

Gold eyes met blue and then they both lunged for the door, dancing around each other in the middle of the room so they wouldn’t touch. The game would be over if they got too close, unable to separate with the torch that burned bright between them, melding their hearts and souls together.

Jaskier bit his lip, locking the door before turning to face Geralt once more, his back pressed against the hard wood behind him. “You’re her doctor,” he mumbled weakly but the protests were dying with every breath.

This was a losing battle and they both knew it.

“You’ve got a baby coming.”

There was a beat of silence where they both just stared deep into each other's eyes, searching for answers to unasked questions. Jaskier couldn’t seem to calm his breathing and his heart was beating so fast that he thought it might fly out of his chest. His hands were shaking in the effort to keep them from reaching out to Geralt. He wasn’t sure what it was about the doctor but he needed Geralt more than he needed the oxygen in the room.

“It’s a bad idea…” Jaskier muttered one last time, before his lips pulled into a smirk and he winked at Geralt. “Let’s just keep kissing until we come to?”

Geralt growled and they met in the centre of the room, Jaskier half kneeling on the examination table, his hands splayed on Geralt’s chest as the doctor held his face with a tenderness that surprised him. Their lips ghosted together, a breath away from touching, but before they could kiss Geralt pressed their foreheads together.

“Let's face it, making mistakes like this, it’ll just make it worse.”

“And it’s already pretty bad,” Jaskier sighed, his fingers gripping Geralt’s white coat tightly. “Just hold me close whilst we think this through?”

“Don’t have much time,” Geralt muttered. “Where’s Pris?”

“Bathroom.”

“Hmm.”

It was torturous, being so close to Geralt but not having what he truly desired, which was, to be blunt about it, to get fucked on the damn table before Pris could come back and find them…

But they really didn’t have much time.

Did they?

Jaskier’s phone buzzed in his pocket and he reluctantly pulled it out, unlocking the screen with his other hand still holding onto Geralt lest he disappear from Jaskier’s life forever.

I can’t stay in the bathroom forever, be quick about it. - P x

A laugh bubbled up and escaped his lips. She knew. The fucking bastard, he was going to buy her the most lavish present he could after this. He fucking loved her, just not in the way his darling mother wished.

Geralt looked at him, eyebrows raised as he cocked his head, his hands still pressed against Jaskier’s back. So Jaskier just grinned and showed Geralt the text.

“Fuck,” Geralt groaned, and then the dam broke.

Their lips met in a desperate kiss, both of them tearing and pulling at their trousers in a rush to get closer. It was clumsy and messy and possibly the hottest fuck Jaskier had ever had in his life, and when they were sat together after, panting as they tried to catch their breaths, Jaskier grinned dopily at Geralt.

“Geralt?”

The doctor’s fingers froze on the button of his trousers and his golden eyes flashed up to meet Jaskier’s gaze, looking flushed and completely indecent despite his best efforts. “Hmm?”

“It was a pretty good bad idea, wasn’t it though?”

Geralt chuckled, rolling his eyes as he pressed a kiss to Jaskier’s hair. The electricity between them hadn’t died down in the slightest and Jaskier was feeling completely high off the thrill and adrenaline of the affair. Geralt hummed as Jaskier pulled him into one last kiss before Priscilla knocked on the door.

A pretty good bad idea indeed.

#the witcher #geraskier #geraskier fanfic #geralt of rivia #jaskier pankratz #wolfie’s witcher writing

[bambirex]

It's A Game We Play: Chapter 3

Pairings: Geraskier, Yennskier, Radskier

Characters: Jaskier, Geralt of Rivia, Yennefer of Vengerberg, Radovid, original female characters, Essi Daven, Priscilla, Ciri of Cintra, Valdo Marx

Additional tags: inspired by Mamma Mia! (movies), crack, alpha/beta/omega dynamics, omega jaskier, alpha geralt, alpha yennefer, beta radovid, awkwardness, jaskier is a good parent, protective jaskier, weddings, found family, post mpreg, fluff and humor, alternate universe-modern setting

Rating: teen and up audiences

Full word count: 7,390 words

Chapter word count: 2,576 words

Chapters: 3/?

Summary: Jaskier's daughter is about to marry the love of her life, and she decides she wants both her parents at her wedding. Only problem is that Jaskier has slept with a little too many people in his youth, so the identity of the other parent is a mystery. That does not stop the bride-to-be from inviting three potential daddy candidates and unleashing absolute chaos in the process.

*

Otherwise known as Jaskier's terrible horrible no good past decisions leading to terrible horrible no good outcomes. Also known as the Mamma Mia! AU nobody asked for, but I wrote it anyway.

Chapter summary: Geralt, Radovid and Yennefer all receive letters from someone who meant a lot to them many years ago. Meanwhile, Jaskier seeks support from his best friends, oblivious to the letters his daughter forged in his name.

Author's notes: Obviously, the letters found them. Here's some more personal info about the three candidates, and a little friendship sweetness.

Read on Ao3

*

“Dad! Dad! Are you asleep?”

“Not anymore. You sound like a fire alarm.”

Geralt groaned as Ciri jumped on the bed, hitting him in the side with her knees. Geralt rubbed the sleep from his eyes with a sigh. He only had work in the afternoon, and he hoped he would get to sleep in late for once in his life- his daughter had different ideas, clearly.

“Thank God for summer break,” Geralt murmured as he glanced at his digital watch on the bedside table. “What possessed you at 7 in the morning that you had to scream me awake?”

“I’ve been up since 6,” Ciri replied as she lounged on Geralt’s bed. “The mailman was here.”

“Okay.” Geralt failed to see why that was such a big deal that Ciri had to wake him up for it.

“You got a letter,” Ciri announced as she propped her feet up on Geralt’s lap, ignoring her father’s morning misery.

“Okay.”

Geralt didn’t really receive letters, except for the advertisement mags he definitely did not subscribe to. Ciri called him a hermit, but that was an over-exaggeration: Geralt simply wasn’t too fond of people. He didn’t like big crowds and loud noises, so he tried to avoid them as much as he could. He enjoyed living a simple, routine-filled life: he got up, went to work in the town’s small gym, took care of his clients, then he went home to his farm where he only had to interact with his brothers and his adopted daughter. Geralt was completely fine with this. He didn’t need chaos in his life. The less mess, the better, was what he always said.

“You never get letters,” Ciri pointed it out. Geralt hummed and closed his eyes again, sinking back into his pillow. Even without his eyes open, he could imagine Ciri’s cheeky grin as she said, “it’s because you’re a hermit.”

“Thanks for reminding me again,” Geralt chuckled. “What would I do without you?”

He meant it sarcastically, but he truly didn’t know. Funny how that was, because he never thought himself to be good father material when he was younger. He never believed he could give a child the kind of love they deserved. But as he got older, he realized he was much more of a family man than he originally thought. He lived his life surrounded by his brothers, and while they got on his nerves, he really loved them. Hitting his forties, Geralt realized he had a lot of love to give, and while he never managed to find a partner he was comfortable committing to, he did want a family of his own. He and his brothers were all adopted, raised by a single father who took care of them after their biological families stopped wanting to. It inspired Geralt to lean into the caring streak inside him, and thus, he adopted a ten years old girl, Ciri, four years prior.

She was a sassy thing, a real teenage menace now that she was fourteen years old. She was stubborn and always got in trouble, but Geralt was a patient man. He loved his daughter with all his heart, even when she kicked him awake because of a stupid letter.

“I didn’t realize you had friends,” Ciri continued, poking him in the face with the paper. “Especially from Thanedd Island. Isn’t that a little too far away?”

Geralt sat up so quickly he nearly sent Ciri flying off the bed. His heart sped up inside his chest as he stared at the letter in his confused daughter’s hand.

“What did you say?” Geralt croaked. Ciri raised an amused eyebrow at him.

“Thanedd. Some Jaskier sent it to you?”

The room started spinning with Geralt. He kept staring at the letter, waiting for it to disappear and find out it was all just a dream. Thanedd. Jaskier. Shit. The memories flooded his brain right away. It was twenty years ago, but he still remembered the time he’s spent with Jaskier, clear as day. He remembered the pretty Omega waving him down in distress when his car decided to die under him. He remembered intense blue eyes on him all the while he helped him change his tire. He remembered running into Jaskier pretty much every day after the accident, feeling both annoyed and endeared by his insistent flirting. He remembered the night they’ve spent together, Jaskier in his arms, looking up at him with such adoration like Geralt hung the moon and the stars.

Geralt remembered feeling love like he has never felt before, and hasn’t felt ever since.

But he was scared of those new, confusing feelings, and he ran away from them. He loved Jaskier, he really did, but he was a stupid, young Alpha who wasn’t really okay with himself and who didn’t know what he wanted out of life. So, he broke Jaskier’s heart and his own. The look on Jaskier’s face when Geralt said goodbye to him still haunted his dreams.

He took the letter from Ciri with shaky hands. The envelope even smelled like Jaskier, sweet cinnamon that made Geralt’s head swim. He had no idea what he would find once he opened that envelope, but he had to know. After spending so much time trying to forget Jaskier, he realized he wasn’t able to.

--

The knock on his door felt like a real salvation. If Radovid had to listen to one more word coming out of that man’s mouth, he would’ve done something that would land him in jail. He had a degree in economics, and the guy thought he couldn’t count?

He should have been used to this by now, probably. Radovid inherited the company about twenty years ago, and all the jealous douchebags thought it was just handed to him. It may have happened a bit suddenly, but Radovid wasn’t just sitting on his throne and making his employees do all the work. He finished college, graduated top of his class, and built a thriving business from scrap all on his own. Most executives were old, uptight Alphas who thought of Betas as a useless secondary gender, so of course, they looked down on him. It was very satisfying to show them that Radovid could do better than all of them- still, having to take part in an online conference with an absolute idiot wasn’t his favorite way to start his day.

“Come in.”

His secretary poked her head inside with a polite smile.

“Hey. You’re still on that conference?”

“I turned it off. What’s up, Kara?”

“You got a letter,” she said as she entered his office. Radovid sent her a confused look.

“An actual, hand-written letter? And it’s not a gas bill?”

“It was sent to you, personally,” Kara said as she handed the envelope to him. Radovid took it with a sigh. He was certain it was a mistake, or maybe one of the execs decided to threaten him and they skipped sending e-mails.

Radovid nearly fell out of his chair when he noticed a familiar name on the envelope.

Him and Jaskier spent a lovely time together on Thanedd Island. Radovid hasn’t met anyone like that Omega ever since. He was sweet, but sassy, dorky but deeply intelligent- and beautiful, the most beautiful thing Radovid has ever laid his eyes on. He could have been just a one-night stand, an adventurous Omega Radovid had fun with, but he was more than that. They didn’t just have sex: they connected. Every look, every touch, every sweet smile was remarkable. He left a mark on Radovid, but he couldn’t stay there with him on the island. He needed to come back home and take care of things. Too much time has passed since then for him to try and seek Jaskier out.

It made no sense. Jaskier must have settled down with someone since then, had a family. He deserved it.

Radovid has entertained the thought, sometimes, but then he always realized he wasn’t cut out for that. He never settled down, never bonded with anyone. His schedule was too packed for that. It was probably pathetic, that he cared more about his mango trading organization than about his own happiness, but he simply didn’t have time for the latter. And, let’s face it, the idea of him as a family man was ridiculous. He wasn’t meant for that.

But Jaskier must have matured since then, must have found himself a gorgeous Alpha or whoever he wanted. He most definitely wasn’t a workaholic, stuck-up businessman with no personal life outside of his one-night stands like Radovid was.

God, what could he want from him after all those years? What could be so important, that Jaskier wrote to him, a personal letter, especially?

Radovid swallowed heavily as he opened the envelope to find out.

--

Yennefer stared at the piece of paper in her hands. She had half a mind to throw it into the trash. It must have been a prank. Someone must have been messing with her. Because there was no way that someone she slept with twenty years prior would suddenly decide to send her a letter out of nowhere.

And yet, the name on the envelope belonged to the Omega that Yennefer so desperately tried to forget. Jaskier, the fucking moron who tried to seduce her all the time while she did her internship at the inn on Thanedd. She tried to resist him, but then her heart got the better of her and she took him to bed. Yennefer hated to admit it, but no one could ever compare. And she hated it even more, but she may have fallen in love with that ridiculous Omega on that night.

The boy must have put a curse on her, maybe that was why she never managed to find the one. It wasn’t as if she never tried: she longed for a deep bond, someone she could love, and someone who would love and take care of her in return. She wanted children, a family. But she never managed. Nothing ever worked out for her. No one was ever right. Either her partner didn’t want things to be as serious as she did, or Yennefer bailed, realizing she wasn’t with the right person.

Her life was quite the mess, to be completely honest. She was forty years old, mate-less, childless, working as a cook in a small bistro instead of being the Michelin star chef she dreamt to be. Yennefer has given up on finding a happy ending for herself, long before her last divorce was finalized a couple months prior.

She knew what her colleagues at the bistro thought of her, what most people did. Jaskier called her strong, beautiful, and confident. It really sucked that it turned out she was none of those things. Alright, she was hot, at least- she still had that, if nothing else was going on in her life anyway.

And now, this. This stupid letter, and stupid Jaskier. Why the hell did he decide to do this just now, what could have happened that made him write Yennefer a freaking letter after literal decades?

Yennefer twisted the paper around in her hand. She should have probably thrown it away to save herself from the mess it probably contained.

Yet, for some reason she couldn’t explain, she decided to open the envelope anyway.

--

Jaskier was glad he had such great friends like Essi and Priscilla. He’s met them shortly after he permanently moved to the island. Essi was a sweet Omega who was now married with two teenage kids, and Priscilla was a painfully honest Beta who enjoyed her singledom greatly. Without them, Jaskier probably wouldn’t have survived. They always offered him a shoulder to cry on, whenever he needed it. They even formed a band, “The Sandpipers”, though they mostly just played for themselves and sometimes at the inn, and not really in general, lately. Essi and Priscilla felt like sisters to Jaskier, so of course, he turned to them again.

He told them about what Amaryllis said. They listened to him intently, holding his hand all the while. It made Jaskier emotional, which was a common occurrence, lately.

“I hate that Amaryllis is miserable,” Jaskier sighed. “She wants her other parent to walk her down the aisle, like, where did this even come from? And how could I give that to her? I don’t even know…I'm not sure who it is.”

“Hey,” Essi spoke softly, “don’t worry, okay? Maybe she will forget about it.”

“And what if she won’t?”

“Essi’s right,” Priscilla chimed in, “she will have plenty of things to occupy her brain with. She won’t have time to think about this.”

“I love my daughter so much,” Jaskier whispered, staring down at his lap. “I would literally walk through fire for her. But this? I can’t give her this. And I hate that. I don’t want to ruin her wedding.”

“With what, exactly? Not having someone she doesn’t even know there?” Priscilla chuckled. She wrapped an arm around Jaskier and pulled him closer. Jaskier rested his head on her shoulder. “Look, don’t beat yourself up over this. The past is in the past. You were a slut, so what? It doesn’t matter. You’re a great parent to her.”

“The best,” Essi cooed as she ruffled his hair gently. “And Amaryllis knows this, too. Don’t feel guilty. I’m sure Amaryllis is just a little sentimental with her wedding coming up, it makes sense. But it will be all okay. She’s gonna have a beautiful wedding, and the only tears we will see will be tears of joy.”

“You wanna get your acoustic guitar out, sweet cheeks?” Priscilla grinned at Jaskier. “We could fire up The Sandpipers again.”

Jaskier snorted. “You want me to sing about my feelings? I have a better idea. I have a bottle of…”

“It’s better than trying to drink them away,” Priscilla cut him off quickly. “Do you remember your rendezvous with that tequila?”

“You threw up in a bush,” Essi giggled, “and then you apologized…to the bush.”

“Alright, no drinking,” Jaskier chuckled. He squeezed his friends’ hands tightly. “Thanks, girls.”

Essi and Priscilla enveloped him in a tight hug. Jaskier sank into it with a grateful smile. He hoped his friends were right, and that Amaryllis truly wasn’t in anguish over this. That idea was just horrifying. If everything went right, by the time her wedding came, Amaryllis wouldn’t even remember ever bringing this up.

--

Dear Geralt…

Dear Radovid…

Dear Yennefer…

I hope you still remember me. I’m the Omega you’ve spent time with on the island in the summer of 2002. I know my letter must come as a surprise to you. I need to tell you something, but I can’t write it down. I’d much rather tell you in person. I still live on Thanedd, so you know where to find me. We have to meet up. It’s a matter of life and death!

The ferries come in every hour on Saturdays. Please, be on the one that arrives at 2 in the afternoon. I’ll meet you at the dock. If my letter found you at all, please, be there, this is very important. And pack enough clothes for a few weeks? I feel like we can't get this sorted out in a day, so be prepared for staying a little longer.

With love,

Jaskier

#geraskier #yennskier #radskier #a/b/o #jaskier #geralt of rivia #yennefer of vengerberg #radovid #omega jaskier #alpha geralt #alpha yennefer #beta radovid #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher fic #my fic #mamma mia au

[pillage-and-lute]

Pins and Needles: Part 3

Part 1, Part 2

———- 🌷 🐺 🌷———-

The butter yellow of the awning of the new tattoo shop carried on inside. The color scheme was classy, though. 

During Geralt’s mostly misspent youth, he’d been inside his fare share of tattoo and piercing parlors. He’d never gotten a tattoo, and his piercings had mostly been his own work, but still, the culture seeped in. He had learned to expect a lot of red and black and exposed brickwork. There was nothing wrong with that look, but he considered the interior of Pins and Needles to be much more friendly. 

The walls were a deep blue, denim, if he had to name it, or perhaps Prussian Blue. It was on all the walls, and the ceiling, with the floor in a dark, smooth wood. He wasn’t sure if that was kept from the last shop or was newly installed. The counter was in the same polished, dark wood, so he supposed it was new. All the accents were dandelion yellow, or yellow brass if they were metal. His leg brushed up against a velveteen chair, something of a vintage style, and of course, in that same buttery yellow. 

The waiting area had the chair, a matching loveseat, and a high-backed chaise lounge in a teal color. It had more green to it’s color than the walls, and was in a lighter shade, but it was adjacent to the color of the walls, and a pleasing focal point. Overall, Geralt was impressed. The blue and yellow color scheme could have easily been overdone, but it was masterful, and clearly completed by someone with an eye for color. 

Ciri was delightedly pouring over a piercing display. Geralt was startled to realize he owned the exact display box. It was, in fact, a large glass terrarium, the metal that same shiny brass. The shelves of piercing were cleverly angled and set within the case so that they were all visible. 

“Nice display case, isn’t it?” 

Geralt turned, and there was Jaskier. He had a BB8 coffee mug in his hand, and a shimmery teal shirt unbuttoned low. It framed his sternum and the peaks of color visible through his chest hair and pointing down in a tempting arrow to--

“urk,” Geralt said, choking on his own tongue. 

“Priscilla found it on the side of the road one day, the legs were scuffed to hell and one was missing, but the glass was intact, so she took it back to her house and fixed it up.”

“I have the same one,” Geralt managed, the tips of his ears reddening.

“Oh, as a display case?”

“Um, it’s a terrarium.”

“Is it really?” Jaskier beamed and Geralt felt like he was dying. “I always thought it was a funny shape. It makes such a lovely focal point along that wall though.”

Ciri was beaming as well. “Dad keeps succulents in his. Is Priscilla the lady that does piercings?”

“She is,” Jaskier said, tilting his head so that his hair flopped and Gerald got a better view of his undercut and dangling chain of a cuff piercing on his ear. “Are you in the market for a piercing, miss...”

“Ciri,” she said, sticking her hand out to shake. “And my dad might get a tattoo sometime, but he’s being a baby about it and doesn’t know what he wants.”

Jaskier shook her hand and levelled a devastating grin at Geralt. “Well, some things aren’t to be rushed, but if your dad ever want’s a tattoo, I’ll give him anything he wants.”

Geralt desperately tried to reel his thoughts in from the absolute trainwreck that that statement illicited. Obviously Jaskier was just trying to sell his craft not offer...anything else. 

“Are you taking walk-ins for piercings?” Ciri asked. 

“Absolutely,” Jaskier said, turning and shouting. “Priscilla?” Down the hall of the shop where, presumably, the actuall tattooing and piercing rooms were. 

“YEah?” came the response. 

“Got a consult for you!”

She poked her head out of a room, smiled quickly, popped back in for a second, then emerged. “Hiya, sorry, I was just doing a little sketching, how can I help?”

“I’d like an industrial piercing please,” Ciri said. 

Priscilla tilted her head, eyes squinting slightly as she, apparently, assesed Ciri’s ears. “That’ll suit you well, left or right side?”

“Left.”

“Cool,” she looked to Geralt. “I’m assuming you’re the dad?”

“Uh, yes,” Geralt said, feeling wildly out of his depth. 

“Great, and does she have your permission for the piercing?”

“Oh, uh, yeah, absolutely.”

“Cool,” Priscilla said, digging behind the counter. “I’ve got paper work for both of you, and then we can get this lovely lady poked full of holes.”

Geralt’s stomach flipped over. Despite how many times he had actually stuck a fucking sewing needle through his own ear as a teenager, he couldn’t stand the thought of normal piercing needles. 

“It’s okay, Dad,” Ciri said as they were handed paperwork and pens. “You don’t have to hold my hand or anything, you can wait out here.”

“Great,” Geralt said, looking at the paperwork. Pretty standard stuff, parental release, aftercare papers, all that. He signed quickly and returned the relevant documents, keeping the aftercare instructions. 

“Thanks very much,” Priscilla said, checking for signatures before smiling at Ciri again. “Got any jewelry picked out?” They walked over to the case as Ciri gestured to some. 

Jaskier was looking at Geralt assessingly over the top of his coffee mug. “You know,” he said. “Most dads aren’t this cool about piercings.” He licked a bit of foam off of his lip and Geralt tried very hard to pretend that he hadn’t seen the flash of a tongue piercing. 

“I, uh, I’ve got plenty of bad ones, I’d rather she got her’s done professionally.”

“Bad ones?” Priscilla’s head jerked up. “Can I see?”

Geralt nodded as she was already bustleing over. He brushed the strands of hair that escaped his ponytail back so she could see his ears. 

“Amatur work for sure, although no lasting damage, where’d you get these done?” 

Geralt flushed. “I did them, uhm, way back.”

“Oh god, you didn’t buy one of those cheep piercing guns, did you?” Priscilla asked, poking gently at Geralt’s ear so she could look at the back of the piercings. Jaskier smiled at Geralt’s probably confused expression. 

“No, I used a needle.”

Priscilla pulled back, eyes wide. “A sewing needle?”

Geralt shrugged guiltily.

“Yeah, okay,” she said quickly, turning to Ciri. “Hold out your pinky, you have to make me a promise.”

Ciri’s brow furrowed, but she linked pinky fingers with the excitable piercer. 

“I promise,” Priscilla said, gesturing with her other hand for Ciri to repeat after her.

“I promise,” Ciri said. 

“Not to pierce myself.”

“Not to pierce myself,” Ciri said, smiling.

“No matter what my dad did.”

“No matter what my dad did,” Ciri finished. “I won’t, don’t worry.”

“Good,” Priscilla said, releasing Ciri’s pinky from it’s hold and sending a theatrical shiver of disgust toward Geralt. “A sewing needle, yikes. C’mon kiddo, we’re gonna stick a needle through your ear, and I’ll show you how a real piercer does it.”

She hurried Ciri into the back room, grabbing a couple sealed packages on the way, needle and jewelry, Geralt presumed. 

“Don’t mind Prissy,” Jaskier said. “She’s just very big on piercing safety.”

“No, I agree,” Geralt said. “I was a really stupid kid back then.”

Jaskier smiled and came out from around the counter a bit, leaning against the side, hip jutting in those ungodly tight leather pants. “Ciri seems pretty smart though, does she get it from her mother?”

“Um,” Geralt said, the sight of those long, leather-wrapped legs making his mouth weirdly dry. “I suppose? Her dad was pretty smart, too.”

“Ah, so you’re not her biological dad?” Jaskier said, leaning forward. Geralt wondered for a second if he was fishing, but surely not, pretty tattoo artists didn’t flirt with frumpy guys like him. 

“No, uh, but I’ve been her guardian since she was just a baby so...”Geralt trailed off, unsure how to finish.

“That’s very cute.” Jaskier’s eyes trailed down Geralt, then back up. To his shame, Geralt realized he hadn’t even removed his apron. 

“You know,” Jaskier said, conversationally. “My dad would have never even thought about letting me get a piercing.”

Geralt looked over the form in front of him, piercings in each ear, more than one, even, a nose ring, and that ellusive tongue ring, as well as the colorful tattoos that swarmed over his skin. “That worked out well for him,” he said without thinking, then blushed.

Jaskier, though, laughed, head back, shoulders shaking. “Indeed,” he said at last. “I shrugged off my father’s wishes rather fully, I think.” 

The bell rang as another person entered the shop and Geralt stepped aside as Jaskier went back behind the counter. He sat on the yellow chair and watched Jaskier’s lips--and that hint of silver on his tongue-- as he made the young woman a tattoo appointment. 

Jaskier’s hands, full of rings and swirling ink, were so quick on the computer keys, and when he talked with them, they were so expressive. 

Geralt wanted to hold one. 

Unfortunately, by the time the young woman was gone and Geralt could have possibly had Jaskier’s full attention again, Ciri was all done. Geralt paid, thanked both Jaskier and Priscilla, and went over the care instructions, before he and Ciri crossed the road. 

It felt very much like a retreat. 

———- 🌷 🐺 🌷———-

Tag List!

@jaybeefoxy @sweetiepieplum  @holymotherwolf

#geraskier #tattoo au #flower shop au #the witcher #geralt x jaskier #geralt is a good dad #but a dating disaster #DO NOT do your own piercings kids

[alittlebitmaybe]

i’ll stay warm

for @sugar-and-spice-witcher-bingo​!

Prompt: ice skating

Relationship: Geraskier

Rating: G (with very mild language and a tiny bit of blood)

Warnings: None

Other Tags: Fluff, Companionable Snark, Already Dating But Too Dumb To Notice, First Kiss

“Let me get this straight,” Geralt says.

Jaskier waves him on.

“You’re going to tie those—,” he gestures to the slim planks of iron on Jaskier’s kitchen table that have leather cords threaded through holes bored into either end, “—to your shoes, and you’re going to go down to the river and stand on it.”

Jaskier, unperturbed, says brightly, “Uh-huh!”

Read more on ao3 or below the cut!

“Let me get this straight,” Geralt says.

Jaskier waves him on.

“You’re going to tie those—,” he gestures to the slim planks of iron on Jaskier’s kitchen table that have leather cords threaded through holes bored into either end, “—to your shoes, and you’re going to go down to the river and stand on it.”

Jaskier, unperturbed, says brightly, “Uh-huh!”

Geralt says, “Why?”

“Because Priscilla asked me along, and it’s good fun, and you can do all sorts of loop-de-loops and swirlies and spinnies and whozits and, uh, whatzits. I dunno, Pris knows all the tricks, I never got the hang of it. But, Geralt, people have been doing this in Oxenfurt for years. It’s the only way fashionable and exciting persons such as I pass the winter these days, gliding as an angel over the ice, cheeks chapped fetchingly pink, you know, it’s all very attractive, one may say winsome—”

“That is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” Geralt crosses his arms over his chest as he leans back in the small chair and tucks his shoulders in. He takes up too much space in Jaskier’s quarters, and already he rues the day he agreed, in a fit of insanity, to pass the season in the city instead of trekking up to Kaer Morhen as usual. “You’re going to die.”

Jaskier hacks a laugh into his steaming mug and nearly spills tea all down his robed front.

“Nonsense!” he cries, once he has recovered himself. “We go every year once the freeze is hard enough, me and Pris and all my many other dazzling friends, which I absolutely have.”

“And if Priscilla told you it was fashionably good fun to walk yourself off a cliff…”

“I’d do it, obviously,” says Jaskier, not missing a beat. “Haven’t you ever had to cross a frozen river on your travels, Witcher? How’d you go about it then, if not on skates?”

Geralt levels him an incredulous look. “How would I get a horse across a frozen river?” he asks, and Jaskier frowns in thought as he takes another sip.

“I mean, you could just—,” he mimes pushing outward with one palm, “—give ‘er a good shove and see how far she gets.”

“Could give you a good shove. Bet you wouldn’t make it far.”

“I’ll have you know, I have the grace of a, a, er…elk? Are elk graceful?”

Geralt nods and says seriously, “Especially the newborns.”

“There you have it. Graceful as a tiny baby elk with those on my feet, I am.”

“Maybe you should wear them all the time.”

“What good would that…” he starts, and then comes, “Hey. Rude. Remind me why I wanted you here?”

Geralt grins and shrugs. His own mug is on the small table, and he sniffs the steam coming off of it. Floral. He takes a sip. Carefully does not spit it back out. Sets the mug back down farther away.

When he has successfully resisted the urge to spit on the floor to clear out his mouth and looks back up, Jaskier is still holding his own mug gently in the curl of his long fingers, and a lock of rumpled hair has fallen into his eyes. His robe hangs open at his collarbone, down the line of his chest. He wears a strange expression that lies between the exasperation Geralt expected and something startlingly softer.

“So you’ll come with us,” he states.

“Someone has to take your body back to your mother when you break your neck,” Geralt says.

Jaskier rolls his eyes. “You jest, but Mum would be thrilled to see you. Likes you better than me, I think. Her only son! But you’ll come, eh?”

Geralt ducks his head quickly to hide the smile creeping across his face, grabbing his boots and yanking at the laces before acquiescing, “Yeah, I’ll come.”

“There now,” Jaskier says, appeased, “that wasn’t so hard, was it.” He knocks back the dregs of his tea, then stands and pads to the sink, talking on. “You should’ve known I wouldn’t let you stay cooped up in here all winter. I’ll have to see if I can dig out my spare pair of skates, they’re older—animal bone, not iron—but they might be big enough for your witcher feet, and it really works just as well. Or maybe Pris knows someone…I even heard they’re renting the things out down at the river now. Industrious, isn’t it, the ways people come up with to make some coin?…”

Geralt half-listens as he ties neat knots, lost somewhere in the midst of mulling over what Jaskier has described, trying to give it the benefit of the doubt despite its obvious frivolity. Based on the day’s weather it will be a clear night with a brisk breeze, a bright moon. The wind chill will have them each bundled up in furs, and the tip of Jaskier’s nose will go pink as he rubs his gloved hands together for warmth and glances happily over at Geralt. The river ice will be torchlit and smooth as glass, and they’ll strap on their skates and step out onto it. They’ll have a good hold on each others arms, for balance, but then as they gain their footing they’ll find their fingers threaded together and neither will let go. Geralt will listen to the quickened beat of Jaskier’s heart as they pick up the pace, and eventually Jaskier will break their hold to skate backward and taunt Geralt with a small twirl that ends only a little unsteadily. Geralt will smirk and give chase, chuckling when Jaskier squawks and takes off at speed. It’s no use, of course, even with Geralt’s inexperience; Geralt will anticipate his movements, head him off, catch him by the wrist, by the shoulder, and they will collide chest to chest with a huff, the momentum from the chase sliding them a few more feet across the ice before they come to a halt. Their cold noses will almost be touching, there will be frost on the riverbank, there will be a distant owl hooting its nighttime song. Jaskier will quirk his lips and say, “Gotcha, Witcher,” and Geralt will lean in, feel his hot breath, press their lips together—

“Geralt,” Jaskier says, tapping him on the shoulder. A hand waves in front of his face. Geralt keeps his expression carefully neutral as he comes out of his sudden reverie, though he’s been caught red handed. “Are you meditating? We’ve got to be off to the market. Have you even been listening to me?”

“Never,” says Geralt, and Jaskier scoffs and whacks him gently upside the head.

*

The riverbank smells like dead fish.

Geralt knew this. He doesn’t know what he expected. He doesn’t know where the pine-scented idyllic winter wonderland from his earlier distraction even came from, because it couldn’t be farther from reality.

Besides the fish stink, his boots squish and stick unpleasantly in the muddy ground, and the place is teeming with cityfolk, the crowd so thick that you can’t see the opposite bank even despite the abundant torchlight.

“Are you sure it’s frozen solid enough for this?” Geralt asks sourly.

“Of course,” Jaskier replies.

Geralt’s frown deepens. “Couldn’t we go around the bend where there’s not so many people?”

“And where’s the fun in that?”

“Breathing room.”

“I asked about the fun, Geralt. Ah, there’s my girl!”

Priscilla pushes through a group of loitering teenagers and throws her arms around Jaskier’s neck, only her toes left on the mud. “Jask! I see you got your…friend to join us.”

She pauses before friend, eyeing him overtly, but Geralt doesn’t notice because one of the teenagers has been shoved, giggling, into him by another of the group. He steadies her, and does not react when she turns to apologize, catches his unnatural gaze, and stifles her laughter. He doesn’t see Jaskier watching him past Priscilla’s ear, the fond crinkling around his eyes when Geralt gently straightens her and returns her to her place in the circle, which subsequently puts a few feet between itself and the newly-noticed witcher.

“It was either this or die of boredom in the dark, wasn’t it, Geralt?” Jaskier says finally as he releases Priscilla.

“I chose the dark,” Geralt lies, and Jaskier sticks out his tongue.

“Well,” Priscilla says, straightening her skirts, “shall we?”

Geralt pulls both sets of skates from his deep cloak pockets and passes the iron pair to Jaskier, who hops around indelicately while securing them over his boots, rather than plop himself on the soft ground—which is, of course, what Geralt does to put on his own. Priscilla and Jaskier waste a few minutes on a tiff over whether it is polite or belittling for Jaskier to insist on helping her with her own skates whether she wants it or not, but eventually they are all ready to go.

Geralt is the first to the ice. He tests the toe of his bone skate against it, judging the friction of it, deciding if it is likely to hold his weight even with the evidence of the dozens of people currently gliding and spinning past him. It seems stable. Stepping out, he finds it surprisingly easy to get a feel for balance, the minute shifts of weight that send him one direction or the other. He swings himself wide and turns around to see Priscilla and Jaskier also stepping out onto the river, Jaskier clutching tightly to Priscilla’s sleeve, face white and eyes trained on his feet.

“It’s okay, darling, you’ve got this. You made such good progress last time, come on now,” Geralt can hear Priscilla murmuring under the loud chatter of nearby skaters.

When Jaskier sees Geralt watching them, he bodily removes Priscilla’s hands from his person and says, “Please, Pris, I’m a capable man.”

She bristles immediately, leaving him to stand on his own. “And I wasn’t a capable woman when I was putting on my skates?”

Jaskier ignores her to begin shuffling awkwardly across the ice, his knees locked straight.

“Jaskier?” Geralt says apprehensively.

“Doing peachy, thanks, it’ll come back to me, just need to recall how to, um—oh no—” Jaskier starts with a strained voice before he promptly stops, because he has begun to slide inexorably forward. Priscilla and Geralt both reach toward him, but they’re too late; Jaskier’s arms wheel wildly, he tilts on wobbly ankles, and he faceplants onto the ice.

“Ow,” squeaks the Jaskier-shaped lump.

*

“I think your nose is broken,” says Geralt. He dabs at the blood on Jaskier’s top lip with the edge of his own cloak. They are safely back on the bank, and Jaskier is, this time, sitting in the mud. “I guess you were right,” he goes on wryly. “You’re exactly as graceful as a baby elk.”

“I knew you were making fun of me,” Jaskier says thickly, due to the nose injury. “I also knew you’d be a natural. Bastard. I could never get the hang of this stupid bullshit.”

Geralt hums and wipes off the last of the blood. At least it’s clotted quickly. Maybe it’s not a break.

“You didn’t need to lie about your abilities. Who are you trying to impress?”

Jaskier snorts, then winces in pain. His fingers twist in his lap. “Oh, that’s funny.”

Now, Geralt is often joking, but he’s fairly certain that that wasn’t one. Did Jaskier also hit his head? He pushes back Jaskier’s fringe to check his forehead for signs of bruising and doesn’t find any. “Um,” he says, “what is?”

Priscilla skates past holding hands with a woman that Geralt thinks she met approximately three minutes ago. She calls, “All right, Jask?” and in reply, Jaskier gives her a bitter thumbs up. She winks and swoops away as quickly as she came.

“Because I was trying to impress you, obviously,” he answers, gazing after her, before he turns his eyes back to Geralt.

Geralt pauses. “Why?”

“Because I’m actually always trying to impress you. And everyone else, constantly, but…mostly you.”

“You don’t do a very good job of it,” he says, and regrets it when he hears how it sounds coming out of his mouth.

Jaskier smiles. It’s genuine, if a little wistful, like Geralt has amused but not surprised him. “I am well aware, thanks.”

He reaches for the words that will take that edge of resignation off Jaskier’s face, feeling like a fumbling fool. “That’s not what I meant. I meant you don’t need to try to impress me.”

“Yes, I know it doesn’t matter, but I can’t help—”

“No,” Geralt interrupts, “I mean you don’t need to try because you do.” He clears his throat. “Impress me.”

“Oh,” says Jaskier, and then nothing more. “That’s. Okay.”

“Yeah,” says Geralt. He has never been so exposed in his life. He thinks that’s probably a bad thing. “How’s your nose? We could try again, if you want.”

Jaskier looks around at the laughing crowds and shrugs. “Came all this way, got all bundled up. Might as well! I’m sticking with you this time, though.”

They find a spot at the farthest reach of the torchlight where the ice is less populated to step out. Geralt goes first, as before, and finds his footing even faster this time. He returns to Jaskier’s side after a moment of testing the reliability of his newfound skills, and presents his forearm as a handhold.  Jaskier does not protest about his capability this time and takes the offering. With a long preparatory exhale, he puts one foot and then the other onto the ice.

“I’ve got you,” Geralt says quietly.

Jaskier replies, “I know you do.”

“Can’t let more harm come to the money maker. I’ve gotten used to staying in inns.”

“Good gods,” says Jaskier, “I’ve broken him.”

They gradually move farther from the bank. “Loosen up,” Geralt tells him. “Don’t lock your knees. It’s like you’re trying to fall over.”

Jaskier grumbles but takes the advice, and eventually he gains the confidence to move a little faster, though not to stop hanging on to Geralt. They stay on the fringes where they are less likely to be run into by a distracted stranger, gliding along at pace, with Jaskier remarking on the who’s-who of Oxenfurt society who are also out tonight. Geralt recognizes some of the more powerful names, but mostly he lets Jaskier chatter on so he doesn’t think too hard about his feet.

Priscilla passes by and greets them a few more times with her new companion, who at one point proclaims, “You two are so cute together!” before Priscilla drags her back into the mob. Geralt glances over and thinks Jaskier might be blushing, but that might also be due to the swelling around his nose.

“Should ice your face,” says Geralt.

“Sure, later. Hey!” He swings around to face Geralt, stopping their progress. “Spin me!” At Geralt’s no doubt dubious expression, he pouts. “Geralt, I demand to be spun. It’ll be fun!”

“Fine,” Geralt sighs.

He takes Jaskier’s hand, and has a flash of his daydream. There’s too many people, and it does still smell like fish, but this isn’t too far off—

He collects himself, holds their joined hands over Jaskier’s head, and gives him a little push to start him spinning, not too quick, but Jaskier takes it upon himself to propel himself a little faster. Jaskier laughs and maintains his balance remarkably well, until he exclaims “Oops—dizzy—!” and topples directly into Geralt, succeeding in knocking them both down, Geralt on his own back, Jaskier flat on his chest.

Geralt, trapped between the frigid ice and Jaskier’s weight, looks up as Jaskier starts to laugh. The steam of his breath hits Geralt’s cheek, and his knitted hat has gone askew, and his nose is turning purple, and Geralt puts his hand around the back of Jaskier’s neck and pulls him down and kisses him.

Jaskier leans away. “What?” he asks, eyes wide, then continues, “oh, who cares,” and leans back down.

*

Later, with an ice pack pressed to Jaskier’s face and two more hot mugs at the kitchen table, Geralt watches Jaskier rummage through his cupboards. He comes back with two packets, one matching the floral tea from earlier and a different one. He hands the latter to Geralt.

“Black tea,” he says, “for you. Noticed you didn’t like my herbal stuff. I don’t either, to be honest, but I already spent the coin on it.”

“Thanks,” Geralt replies, oddly touched.

As Jaskier passes Geralt to take his seat, he leans down and pecks him on the cheek. Smiling faintly beneath the ice pack, he says, “You know, Witcher, I’m glad you’re here and not up in some weird lonely castle,” and Geralt finds that he is, too.

#my fic #the witcher #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #geraskier fic #it's fluff time friends!

[artistsfuneral]

I want to make it a habit to just write down the scenes I have going through my head. So here you go :D 

---

 Priscilla let out a long, melodic hum as she settled down on the picnic blanket next to Jaskier. One leg up, the other stretched out, the skirt of her blue dress rode up and barely covered her thighs anymore. She didn't correct it, because Priscilla was confident like that and apart from Jaskier and a flock of birds in the sky, no one else was around. „I'm not sure how to react, Jules. That's an awful lot to take in,“ she admitted, always honest and open with her thoughts. Exactly why Jaskier had asked her to accompany him.

They were sitting in an unkempt yard, surrounded by grass and weed tall enough to hide them from the rest of the world. Pegasus and Calanthe were roaming through the shrubbery, chasing birds and barking the squirrels in the trees. Jaskier echoed Priscilla's hum absentmindedly, his fingers fiddling with the old key chain in his hands. The two friends silently looked at the house in front of them. Originally build as a farmhouse, over the years it had been changed into more of an old cottage with heavy stone walls on the outside but the comfort of a cozy home on the inside. Large windows and wild rose bushes between the growing weeds made it look like it came right out of a fairy tale. Obviously in need of a renovation, it was a lovely house.

Jaskier pulled his knees to his chest and let out a sigh. He and Priscilla had spend their morning walking through every room of the cottage and exploring the huge property that it came with. His heart ached.

“It certainly would be,” Priscilla started, frowning at the mossy roof, “a lot of work. Like- months worth of work. You'd need to hire professionals. I have watched enough fixer-upper shows to know that most old houses have horrible pipes and plumbing. And you'd need to install heaters, air conditioning, fix the roof, new kitchen, new bathrooms.” She stopped and scrunched up her nose. “That's a lot of money, Jules.”

“I know, Priss. But gramma knew too and she covered for it. She knew how much I loved her house, so she set up her will so that I could afford it.” Priscilla bumped her shoulder against Jaskier's in a silent support. Growing up together, she knew how much Jaskier's grandmother meant to him, how close they had been. “If I- If I take the house and decide to live in it, all of her money would go to me. If not it's going to be shared between my family.”

“Would it be enough?” She asked and Jaskier nodded. “Certainly. Her lawyer could only tell me the amount of her main bank account and that was already good enough. But I know she has at least a second one, she didn't want Mom to find out about.” Priscilla made a face. “Don't get me wrong, but I still can't understand how someone so kind and smart could be a mother of... well, bog goblin seems like a good definition.” Jaskier broke into a fit of laughter, Priscilla had never pretended to like his mother. She was quite right to call her a bog goblin.

“Gramma always said: If you want your spawn to turn out right, you either concentrate on a single one or have enough that one doesn't stand out anymore.”

“Your parents didn't follow that tradition, did they?”

Jaskier gaped at her. “Fuck you! I am a delight to be with!” He yowled, before they both started laughing uncontrollably, attracting Pegasus and Calanthe's attention. Jaskier ended up sprawled out on the picnic blanket with Pegasus lying on top of him, the huge dog covering nearly all of his body, while Priscilla had taken Calanthe into her lap and rewarded the fine lady with soft scritches. “So,” she picked up the conversation again. “You have the house you always wanted. You have the money to make said house into your home. The yard would be big enough to keep chickens and some watch-geese. You could have your own vegetable garden and repair the greenhouse. If you don't spend too much of your grandmother's savings all at once, you could even finish your book, get it published and start writing for a publisher. Together with your music and your blog, you should be able to afford living. And yet I don't see you jumping up and down in excitement, despite this being the life you always wanted to have.” She turned around to look at Jaskier. “What is going on in that head of yours, Jules?”

Jaskier huffed out a breath and planted a kiss on Pegasus wet nose. “Geralt.”

“Oh. But I thought you two were so good together?”

“We are and that's the problem. The house is so far away from the city, I don't think it would work. I mean, we're close to the stables, so he could come visit me after work every now and then. But he has Ciri as his first priority and I could never ask him to decide between spending time with her or me. Besides, I already love her so much and I think she really likes me too and moving here would mean that I wouldn't be able to spend that much time with her anymore. The only way this would be able to work was if I asked them to move with me, but I just- I can't ask them to do so much, just because of a stupid house.”

“The only thing that's stupid about this is you,” Priscilla blurted out.

“Wha-”

“Think about it! Of course Geralt would say yes! You've been together for three years, he absolutely adores you to no end, Ciri is a hellfire of a child, she would love it out here in the open. You said it yourself, Geralt's workplace is not far and if Ciri will change to middle school soon anyways, until then you can find one that's close by. The dogs would love it here and you'd be living your dream.” She fell quiet again, letting Jaskier work through his thoughts.

“Do you really think it could work?”

“Yes.”

.

#artistsfuneral about the witcher #the witcher #geraskier #jaskier #priscilla #witcher #mini fic #cottagecore #projecting onto jaskier until i suddenly have a rich grandma that gives me her cottage #spoilers: geralt and ciri love the cottage ciri gets a tree house and eskel gifts them a goat #a year later jaskier and geralt marry in the garden of their cottage

[jaskiersvalley]

My life has been absolute shit lately, and your blog has been the one constant, an anchor if you will; for me. I've probably blown up your notifications and are prob sick of seeing my little icon and I apologize but you have kept me sane. I just love you so much😭❤

I’m so sorry to hear life has been absolute shit lately! Whatever it is that’s going on for you, I really hope it gets better soon. I’m there in your corner and rooting for you. On a side note, please never feel you have to apologise for blowing up notifications. As a writer, it is one of the loveliest things to see, to have someone enjoy works so much, they make their way through multiple stories. Generally, those usernames are the ones that I’ll remember and grin at going “it’s you again” and be really happy to see. Even if we never talk, regulars in notifications bring a special kind of warmth with them. So all the thanks and love should be given to you for being such a wonderful soul.

As thanks, and as a little something to take your mind off whatever’s been going on, have a strange modern AU.

The shelter where Jaskier worked was a relatively quiet one. They tended to specialise in last hope strays and those that needed a home that wasn’t expecting the animals to be cute, convenient and snuggly. Usually, Jaskier’s role was more to sit with the animals, sing to them and get them used to human presence. Sometimes it took weeks before one of the animals dared approach him or stopped growling at his mere presence. But each time it happened, Jaskier’s heart almost burst with love. He adored every single animal that came to the shelter, broken and hurting as they were. In part, Jaskier felt responsible for them and wanted to make sure that no matter what had happened in the past, their future was as bright as possible.

As well as the animals, there was another reason Jaskier loved the shelter. The people he worked with. Namely, one particular volunteer who came in at least once a week and often more when there was a particularly difficult case. Geralt had a reputation as a take no shit gentle giant. He’d had his fair share of bites, scratches and incidents but not once did he ever blame the animal in question. No matter how many times he got attacked, he returned, worked with the animal and tried his best to win them over. As far as Jaskier knew, he had yet to fail.

Some animals needed more attention than others. They were usually referred to as ‘Geralt specials’ because most of the time, it was Geralt who managed to start working with the animal in question. At that moment in time, there was only one such dog at the shelter, a mastiff cross of some description. She had come in half starved and petrified of any human contact. Even Jaskier sitting quietly on the other side of the door to her kennel had her snarling and snapping, throwing herself at the cage door. Any dog doing that would have been scary, when it was a dog Roach’s size, it was downright terrifying. But Geralt had come in and worked his magic. The first time Jaskier saw him slip out of the kennel, he hd expected to see copious amounts of blood. Instead, he got to see Geralt turn back to the kennel and offer a soft smile before acknowledging Jaskier with a nod.

Over time, Jaskier and Geralt started getting on better and better. While Geralt never stayed around when Jaskier played, claiming he wasn’t fond of the racket, he still seemed to linger nearby enough to catch the softly drifting music without being obvious about it. Their nods to each other had become a few exchanged pleasantries. Then it was chats int he staff room. Or even walking the dogs together, Geralt always taking Roach if possible.

“I’m moving,” Geralt announced out of the blue, Roach sitting next to him, tongue lolling happily.

“Does that mean we’ll lose you?” Jaskier’s heart actually hurt at the idea.

Thankfully, Geralt shook his head. “I wanted somewhere bigger, with a garden.” He looked down at Roach and patted her head. She growled, obviously not in the mood for gentle attention.

It was no secret that Geralt was absolutely doting on Roach. He’d even turned a few potential adopters towards other dogs, claiming she was still a work in progress. Though Jaskier had suspected that, with the right person, Roach would have been ready to leave the kennel. Maybe now, with Geralt getting a more appropriate place for a dog, he could actually adopt her himself.

“Will you not be lonely in a bigger place?” Jaskier teased, hoping to get Geralt to admit to his plans.

“No.” Geralt looked at Jaskier with a frown. “Are you asking if I need a housemate?”

Laughter bubbled up in Jaskier’s throat at that and he shook his head. However, he didn’t push the matter any further.

Days went by and Jaskier was called to the front desk. Two men, built like small mountains were standing there. While they looked nothing like Geralt, there were enough shared mannerisms that Jaskier had to wonder whether they knew each other.

“We’re here to adopt a dog called Roach,” the smaller one said.

Priscilla at the desk looked quite stricken. They all had been hoping Geralt would adopt her soon. But, as Geralt had said, moving was expensive and disruptive. He couldn’t bring a dog into the home if he couldn’t safely provide for them.

“I’m afraid Roach isn’t up for adoption just yet,” Jaskier tried to worm his way out of it. “I would be more than happy to show you a few other dogs though.”

“It has to be Roach,” the man insisted.

The other guy finally spoke up. “Sorry, to clarify, we’re Geralt’s brothers. I’m Eskel, this is Lambert. He’s been working with that dog for so long and hasn’t shut up about her. At first we thought it was two dogs, but we’re not sure who would name a dog Jaskier.”

Snickering, Jaskier nodded. “I’m Jaskier. Geralt won’t shut up about me?”

In testament to all of Geralt’s hard work with Roach, she greeted Lambert and Eskel in a civilised fashion. Which made more sense when Eskel admitted he was wearing a hoodie he stole from Geralt.

“She can spend the night at mine. Geralt’s got tomorrow off, his house is as ready as it’s ever going to be. Want to help bring her over?”

The plan was quickly hatched. Jaskier would pick Roach up from Eskel’s the next afternoon. Lambert and Eskel would be at Geralt’s and keep him from getting stuck in on some chore so when Jaskier arrived with Roach, he wouldn’t be interrupted.

There was only one hiccough to their plan. The following morning, Geralt turned up at the shelter even though he wasn’t on the rota. He walked to the back and Jaskier saw the moment he realised Roach’s kennel was empty.

“What’s happened to her?” Geralt’s eyes were wide, face stoically set into something vaguely neutral to hide a breaking heart upon learning she had been adopted.

Jaskier felt awful, realising Geralt had been hoping to finally adopt her. Instead, Geralt gritted his teeth and nodded.

“Did she go to a good home?”

“The best,” Jaskier nodded. “Guy with a house and a garden. She loved him and even tolerated the guy’s maybe boyfriend.”

That was a bit of a cheeky thing to add but Jaskier couldn’t help himself. He had hopes. What he wasn’t braced for was the way Geralt nodded once and made his excuses to leave. On the way out, he dropped a roll of money into the fundraising jar on the reception desk. Jaskier didn’t need to count it to know it was exactly the same amount as an adoption fee. There was a defeated slope to Geralt’s shoulders and Jaskier was reaching for his phone, calling Eskel.

“We need to move up the timeline. He just came by to try and adopt Roach.”

A quick jiggling of lunch breaks and cover later, Jaskier was taking an early lunch and on his way to Eskel’s. He smiled at the dog, loving the big old bow Eskel had managed to attach to her collar.

“Come on girl,” Jaskier coaxed her into the car. “Time to go home.”

He pulled up outside Geralt’s driveway. Somehow, Eskel and Lambert had already managed to coax Geralt onto the porch and Jaskier got to see the annoyed scowl before recognition smoothed Geralt’s features into something confused.

“Sorry to bother,” Jaskier said as he opened up the boot of his car. “But I’ve got something of yours that needed delivering.”

Roach hopped out with a huff and looked around.

“Roach?” Geralt’s voice was full of hope. His dog heard and Jaskier had no chance of holding her leash as she bounded towards Geralt.

Lambert and Eskel took a step back as Roach collided with Geralt and they went sprawling on the ground. They both looked so happy, Jaskier wanted to take a photo and treasure it forever. Thankfully, it seemed that Lambert had the same idea as he’d already whipped his phone out to take pictures. Meanwhile, Eskel pulled out the adoption papers from him pocket.

Finally a little calmer, Geralt sat up and stared at the three of them. “I thought she got adopted.”

“She did. By a guy with a house and a garden. The best home she could hope for,” Jaskier replied.

“Didn’t the guy also have a maybe boyfriend?” Off to the side, Eskel snorted and made no attempt to even hide it. Jaskier had the grace to blush lightly even as he shrugged. “Could we make it a definite boyfriend?” Geralt asked softly.

It was Jaskier’s turn to grin but he didn’t step closer. “While I’m very happy, I think I would prefer not to tackle you to the floor and lick you all over to express it. The bed however,” he trailed off suggestively.

Lambert barked out a laugh and punched him in the shoulder merrily. “We’ll leave you three to figure out who is allowed on the bed and who wears a collar. See you around.”

“Stay,” Jaskier replied. “I need to get back to work. But, maybe, when I’m done, I could come by and see how Roach is settling into her new home?”

He looked at Geralt hopefully. “I could even bring some wine and doggy treats.”

“Deal.”

That was how Jaskier found himself with a date for that evening.

#geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #lambert #roach #eskel #tldr: geralt wants to adopt roach but gets beaten to it by his brothers and jaskier

[major-trouble]

60 with valdo and arnaghad? Because I'm addicted to this crack ship now and it just screams "bard getting up to mischief"

Your wish is my command! Please, I hope you enjoy another “first meeting” kind of fic.

60: “Before you decide to murder me, let me explain…”

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

Valdo was fucked. And not in a good way. 

Probably.

He’d just been trying to casually eavesdrop on the conversation between the town alderman and the absolute mountain of a Witcher he was speaking to. Honestly he thought he was being sneaky. He’d met Witchers before - how could he be friends with Jaskier and not meet at least one - but this one was the size of two Witchers. Like, stacked on top of one another. And then with another one strapped around the side for good measure.

He shook his head. This is why he left the lyricism to Jaskier and Priscilla. Fancy fretwork was his domain, words were not. 

Anyway, suffice to say, the Witcher must have topped out at somewhere near seven feet, if not more. Broad shoulders made Valdo wonder how he comfortably got through doorways, and from what else he could make out under plated armour draped in thick furs, the rest of his physique was just as thickly made. 

He had to suppress the shiver that wanted to make its way up his spine at all that raw power on display. He’d always had a thing for men who could pin him down, but this one looked like he could tear him apart like wet parchment and that shouldn’t be so arousing. 

Anyway.

His name was Arnaghad - not one he’d ever heard before. And he wasn’t wearing a pendant, but Valdo would bet his gittern that he wasn’t Wolf or Cat. Long, dark hair was braided in thick plaits that hung between his shoulder blades, tied incongruously with brightly coloured green and blue ribbons. His strong jaw had several bright white scars that stood out against deeply bronzed skin. Valdo watched the muscles flex beneath the skin as he spoke to the alderman, obviously hiding irritation, but that was the only indication of it. His expression remained calm and open and the timbre of his voice was almost soothing.

What he’d - unobtrusively - overheard was that there was a bit of a barghast problem on the outskirts of town that was interrupting the trade route. The Witcher had quietly negotiated a fee, staring hard at the alderman when he countered with something much lower before baking down and agreeing to the Witcher’s terms. Once coin had exchanged hands, Valdo had waited patiently whilst the man paid for a room and disappeared down the hallway to the back of the inn. 

From Jaskier’s - incessant - descriptions, Valdo knew that some prep work went into getting ready to fight any kind of beast or monster, so he occupied himself with another mug of ale and then headed back to his own room. It was late enough in the evening that he doubted the other man would leave before morning.

Good thing he was a light sleeper.

True to his hunch, he heard the peculiarly quiet footsteps of the Witcher heading out of his room just as the first rays of dawn were making their hesitant way over the horizon. Valdo was out of bed in an instant, already fully dressed, cracking open his door and making sure the hall was clear before he snuck out, holding his boots in one hand so as not to make a noise.

He had no idea why his curiosity was so aroused - bad choice of words, Valdo - by this man, but he seemed unlike the other Witchers he’d met. Bigger, no doubt, but also the way he held himself, the easy way he intimidated the alderman, all spoke to years of experience. Years beyond what the Wolves had to offer. 

Oh, this one was full of stories to rival anything that Jaskier could procure. 

Ever so quietly, Valdo made his way out of the inn. His breath clouded in the still morning air and he shivered as he quickly shoved his feet into his boots, looking around to figure out which way the great mountain of a man had gone. How could someone so big move so silently? Valdo had almost expected the shadows themselves to part for the man, his presence alone was so large.

Luckily, his eye caught the telltale trail of vapours from an exhaled breath and he followed, keeping his distance. He could see Arnaghad now, walking along the roadway back out of town. There were twin swords strapped to his back, and Valdo was certain that one of them would nearly reach to his chin if held up to compare. 

Somehow, that made him shiver more than the chill.

The road meandered around the edge of the river, bending around a sharp corner and Valdo lost sight of his quarry. He wasn’t worried, there wasn’t anywhere else to go, and the barghasts were still a bit further on. 

So it was with a horrible sense of terror that as he turned the corner he found himself grabbed from behind, pinned with one arm behind his back, and held securely against a very broad chest. He didn’t scream, but that was only because of the thickly gloved hand that clamped over the bottom half of his face, preventing him from making a sound. 

“What have we here, hmm?” a deep, slightly amused voice breathed in his ear. “Didn’t get enough listening in last night, decided to follow me into the woods like a lost pup? Not a wise decision, boy.”

Valdo couldn’t help the indignant sound at being called boy. He was of age, thank-you very much! Just on the other side of his twenty-first year. 

Not that he could tell the man behind him, not with his hand over his mouth. 

“Oh? You got something to say? You better make it quick - might be your last words.” It was said lightly, but there was such a dark edge to it as made Valdo want to shiver again and damn his body for betraying him like that. 

When his mouth was released, Valdo worked his jaw for a moment before blurting out, “Before you decide to murder me, let me explain.” He cleared his throat, colour rising on his cheeks at the huffed laugh behind him. “I’ve met Witchers before. But you seemed… Hmm, different, I suppose. Perhaps following you was a bit brash, but I was curious. You seem like you have a lot of age and experience - “

“Do I now?” the voice was closer to his ear and Valdo could feel himself starting to tremble. 

Oh I am so fucked.

#the witcher #valdo #arnaghad #first meetings #my writing #prompt fill #thank-you!! #these two are going to be the death of me #moonlightcrazyphoenix