#romtober
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romtober day 16: right person in front of them the whole time
Rating: T
Ship: Geraskier
Word Count: 2019
Summary: Geralt and Jaskier do not have the best luck when it comes to dating. At least they have each other there to make up for bad attempts.
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“Oh no,” Jaskier said in lieu of a greeting as he answered his phone. “If you’re calling me, that must mean things are not going well.”
“Her wallet is filled with pictures of her cats,” Geralt answered with a huff.
“You love cats!”
“She has at least ten. She lost count.” Geralt did not sound amused, but Jaskier could not hold back his snicker. “She told me all of their names, and each one was more ridiculous than the last.”
“Okay, you can’t judge her on that. You’ve named every cat you’ve owned Roach,” Jaskier countered.
“I’ve owned two. At different times!”
Jaskier snorted and, though Geralt couldn’t see him, he rolled his eyes. He leaned back into his couch and balanced the phone on his shoulder as he tried to eat the noodles he had prepared. It wasn’t going well, but he hadn’t expected it to.
“So, are you coming over, or what?” Jaskier asked with a mouthful of noodles, which mostly made it to his mouth. Who was going to judge him? Geralt?
“Yeah. Open your door.”
Jaskier jumped a little at the rap at the door. As he got up, and put his dinner down, he ended the call and fixed Geralt with his best withering stare as he pulled the door open. “You know, it’s a little suspect that you manage to get inside the security door every single time without my help,” Jaskier said, though he stepped back to let Geralt in.
“You spilled something on your shirt.”
Jaskier huffed, but it was largely for show. Seconds later, they were sat on the couch together, their bodies so close they touched every time either one of them moved. Geralt moaned about Jaskier eating messily, and Jaskier ate even messier just to bother Geralt. It was nice. It was far better than Jaskier’s plans of a night to himself watching trash T.V.
“So, she wasn’t the one?” Jaskier asked, some time later. Geralt only snorted in answer.
--
Jaskier was more than a little drunk. And more than a little sad. And setting his drop-off address for the Uber to be his best friend’s apartment probably wasn’t the best idea he’d ever had, but it also wasn’t the worst. The jury was out on which of his decisions was the worst, but Jaskier was sure Geralt and Yennefer both had a few ideas, and it was definitely not this particular decision.
It was the decision that made him feel the most comforted, however, and that was what Jaskier needed right now. Even if Geralt took a little too long to open the door after Jaskier knocked. He grew anxious, in that time, and began to bite on his thumb nail as he considered his options. He couldn’t call another Uber--his phone was about dead. He couldn't walk home, it was entirely too far. Jaskier knocked again.
Geralt’s glaring face greeted him a second later.
“It’s the middle of the night, Jas--”
He barely got the words out before Jaskier forced himself past Geralt and into the apartment. Jaskier stopped, though, because really his plan had only gone as far as to get him inside, and now that he was standing in the entryway he didn’t know what to do with his hands, his body, anything.
“I think I’m going to be alone forever,” Jaskier finally said, and his shoulders slumped.
Geralt hesitated a second, then Jaskier heard the door close. “Come on,” Geralt said, taking Jaskier’s forearm and pulling him to the couch. He sat Jaskier down on it and handed him a blanket. The only way he could have made Jaskier feel more like a child would have been by laying the blanket out for him, but Jaskier found himself comforted rather than condescended to. It was nice.
“You and Virginia broke up?” Geralt asked some time later as he sat on the couch beside Jaskier and handed him a cup of tea. Jaskier nodded. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really.”
So they didn’t. Instead, Geralt told Jaskier all about Ciri’s middle school drama and the dog he had helped rehabilitate that day. Jaskier didn’t tell Geralt about anything of consequence, only listened quietly--unless the story called for an interruption, as middle school drama often did--until he drifted off to sleep.
When he woke up, he was in Geralt’s bed, and the apartment smelled like pancakes and syrup.
--
He hasn’t shown up.
Jaskier didn’t often use punctuation in his texting--that was more Geralt’s bag. But this situation called for punctuation. Of course his first attempt at a date after his breakup would result in Jaskier getting stood up. It only made sense. Still, it was embarrassing, and Jaskier kept ducking his head to avoid the pitying glance his waitress gave him.
When were you supposed to meet? Geralt sent back.
Jaskier huffed. Half an hour ago. This was stupid. I knew it was too early, too unlikely. He could probably smell the desperation.
Where are you at? The restaurant still?
Yeah. Though I’m about to leave. I can’t take the shame anymore.
Give it ten more minutes.
When the waitress came back, Jaskier offered her an apologetic smile. “No, sorry, still not here. Might as well just--”
“Sorry I’m late.”
Jaskier looked up, astonished, to see Geralt sliding into the chair across from him. Geralt hardly looked at Jaskier, though. Instead, he smiled at the waitress and ordered a bottle of wine and an appetizer Jaskier hadn’t even looked at.
“Geralt,” Jaskier said, once the waitress had left. There was a bit of a spring in her step now, as if she was pleased at the way things turned out. “What are you doing here?”
Geralt shrugged, then took a sip from the water in front of him. All the ice had melted and it was close to overflowing. “No sense in wasting an evening. I was hungry.”
Jaskier beamed at his friend and rolled his eyes, but let the matter drop entirely. This was a far better way to have dinner, anyway. Jaskier probably wouldn’t have wound up liking the guy. And Geralt had much better taste in appetizers, Jaskier was sure.
--
Geralt didn’t even bother knocking before he opened the door. Jaskier only just barely masked his shriek with a gasp, but didn’t manage to do the same with his jump, and as a result banged his head on the cabinet he had just opened. He wasn’t sure which look was more unimpressed--Geralt’s or his own.
“Who just walks in like that, Geralt?” Jaskier demanded, crossing his arms.
“Who just leaves their apartment door unlocked?” Geralt countered.
Jaskier shrugged, and instead of pulling out one plate for himself, he pulled out two. He put his dinner--a pasta dish, and really he needed to figure out cooking something other than carbs, but they had to stop tasting so good--and held it out as a silent offer to Geralt. As Jaskier suspected, he took the plate, then sat at Jaskier’s very-unused table. Ugh. That meant Jaskier would have to sit there, too.
“To what do I owe this pleasure?” Jaskier asked as he sat across from Geralt. “Didn’t you have a date tonight? I thought this one was promising.”
Geralt shrugged and didn’t even look up from his plate. “I cancelled. It didn’t seem worth it. The last four dates haven’t gone well, why would this one?”
“You didn’t even give him a chance,” Jaskier said, pointing his fork at Geralt. “What if he was the one?”
Geralt snorted and finally met Jaskier’s eye. “I highly doubt he was the one. I’m taking a break from it all. I only signed up for the stupid app in the first place because you and Yen wouldn’t leave me alone. I’m just… not interested.”
Jaskier sighed dramatically, but pressed no further. Geralt seemed as if his mind was made up, and nothing Jaskier said at this point would change it. As he thought on it, though, Jaskier wasn’t sure he even wanted to change Geralt’s mind.
--
Geralt was definitely ignoring him. Jaskier was standing there, dressed up, holding dinner from Geralt’s favorite restaurant and a bag of goodies, pounding on the door, and Geralt was ignoring him. Jaskier refused to let this happen, however.
“Geralt, I know you’re in there. Ciri told me you were home tonight!” Jaskier called through the door. He had paused his knocking just long enough to say that, but he started up again, this time with far more force than was necessary. So much force that when Geralt swung the door open, Jaskier staggered forward, caught off guard.
“Jesus, Jaskier, what?”
“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” Jaskier asked, straightening up and grinning at Geralt.
Geralt glared at him for a moment, but eventually he stepped back and motioned for Jaskier to enter. Jaskier set down his bags of goodies and turned to Geralt, suddenly flustered beyond belief.
“Right, well…” he started, then trailed off. He hadn’t let himself think of his speech--it made him too nervous. But now that he felt woefully underprepared, he wished he had run through it in front of the mirror a few times.
“What, Jaskier?” Geralt asked. His eyebrow raised and he looked over at the bags, then up and down Jaskier himself. “Are you okay?”
“I brought--” Jaskier started, then paused. He cleared his throat, then motioned toward the bags. “I brought food. And. Some other things. To make this… big gesture. But, I have to get something out first.” Jaskier stopped, then met Geralt’s eye. Geralt just watched him expectantly. “You’re not dating anyone.”
Geralt clearly hadn’t expected that, judging by the way his face scrunched up in confusion. “No, obviously I’m not.”
“Do you--want to date me?” Jaskier asked, then winced. Fuck. That hadn’t been part of even his hasty planning.
“Jaskier, what--” Geralt asked, his eyes wide, but Jaskier barrelled on.
“You’re my best friend. And. And I love spending time with you, and things are so easy between us, and whenever I’m upset, you’re the only one I want to see. Whenever I’m happy about something, I want to tell you first. Nothing has ever worked, no other relationship I’ve had, but this one always works. And for the longest time, I was afraid that… pushing things further would ruin things for us. That if we brought feelings into this, that we’d lose what we have.” He paused, and took a deep breath. “But I’m not afraid anymore.”
Geralt watched him, but his face betrayed nothing to Jaskier. Except maybe a bit of disbelief. That was okay, Jaskier could give him time to process this. After he finished.
“I think I love you. I think I’ve loved you for a really, really long time. I think you love me, too. I think that’s why you decided to stop dating.”
Jaskier stepped closer. He walked right up to Geralt, then stopped when there was just an inch between their feet. Geralt could close the gap, or not, with very little effort. If only he took it.
“That’s… an interesting conclusion to come to,” Geralt answered, and his voice was the picture of calm and collected. The way his eyes darted around Jaskier’s face told Jaskier a different story. Jaskier grinned.
“It’s the right one.”
“You sound sure,” Geralt answered. Jaskier saw the barest hint of a smile, right there, at the corner of Geralt’s mouth.
“I am.”
Geralt stared at him a moment longer, and Jaskier let out a huff.
“Geralt, I don’t mean to push you, but I kind of bared my soul there. If you could throw me some kind of bone, or kiss me, or--or do something other than just stare at me like a--”
Geralt’s answer was to cup Jaskier’s face between his hands and drag him in for a kiss. Jaskier didn’t mind being interrupted. He also didn’t mind that their food grew cold; he barely even noticed. All that mattered was that he was right, and Geralt was a fantastic kisser.
#geraskier#geralt x jaskier#jaskier x geralt#geraskier fanfic#geraskier modern au#geraskier au#geraskier fanfiction#my writing#romtober
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Everyone: October! Spoopy season!
Artists: Ah. The time of the -tober challenges has arrived *is overbooked*
#Matt has a life#Hidden somewhere#Inktober#Whumptober#Romtober#and I'm sure there are some I don't know
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#Romtober New Release: Costume Cutty, by @therealchencia
#Romtober New Release: Costume Cutty, by @therealchencia
You’re invited to the Sapphire Springs annual Fall Festival. Two days packed with activities for residents and guests alike; an adults-only costume ball on Saturday night, and family friendly carnival on Sunday. RSVP to join us for opulent fun.
For the first time in her life Dionne Austin has been looking forward to Halloween all summer. The annual Fall Festival in Sapphire Springs was…
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thirsty thursday 🌊
i haven’t done one of these in a while and i’m just. so excited. in no particular order, some stories i read that decided to take up residence inside my heart:
The Chamaleon by Elizabeth (@agentlewomanandascholar) - 19K - E - geralt/jaskier - a lovely six part story, in which jaskier owns a coffee shop in novigrad, and geralt’s never had coffee before. it’s sweet and lighthearted and makes you crave good coffee, which, in my opinion, is the best kind of story.
Love in the Time of Video Conferencing by Elizabeth (@agentlewomanandascholar) - 18K - E - geralt/jaskier - i’ve talked about this one before (shoutout to that anon who recommended it to me - bless you!) but i think it deserves to be on the list. oh my god, they were zoommates. jaskier is a systems admin and geralt’s a professor who really, really needs help with zoom. and the internet, in general. it’s just so sweet and comforting and captures the experience of quarantine so well, i really can’t recommend it enough. it’s worth saying that the author’s writing lights something up inside of me, and makes me feel so much - i’d encourage everyone to read everything she’s ever written, really.
New Monster Stories by kathkin (@penny-anna) - 20K - E - geralt/jaskier - modern au in which geralt saves jaskier from a werewolf, uses his shower, and disappears. and then comes back — guys, my summaries are never good. go read this immediately, if you haven’t. it’s so intriguing and wonderful and kind of makes me want to cry, and. it’s beautiful.
ever tried; ever failed by inber (@inber)- 4.5K - M - geralt/jaskier - jaskier wants to give ‘no nut november’ a go, geralt doesn’t think he’ll last, they make a bet. goes about how you’d imagine. so so sweet and domestic and lovely, reading it felt like being wrapped in a warm blanket. also, modern au shenanigans and snippets of their shared life which made me giggle and sigh very dreamily. super recommended!
Friend Like Me by MissDinahDarling (@dinahdarling) - 12K - E - geralt/jaskier - geralt finds a djinn and he definitely doesn’t keep it, and he definitely doesn’t become attached to it. nah. this was so so lovely and such a wonderful change of scenery, i was truly taken aback the first time i read it! the author’s prose is so breathtakingly beautiful, it’s definitely worth a read.
I’ll Wish Upon Embers by DrowningByDegrees (@drowningbydegrees)- 9K - E - geralt/jaskier - jaskier convinces geralt to stay in town for a midsummer festival. feelings and flowercrowns are involved. the author’s prose is stunning, and the story itself is so lovely and sweet and deep in a way that really took my breath away. fair warning, though: once you read it, you won’t stop thinking about it. (also, please give For the Space of a Heartbeat a read. please. it’s full of pining and idiocy and love).
and for october writing fests! i wasn’t able to read much, but i really wanna thank everyone who partook in it, you really made october much more bearable <3. here are my favorite collections:
Octoberfest fics by valdomarx (@valdomarx) - george’s writing. that’s it, that’s the tweet. all these fics are so wonderful and funny and heartbreaking in a way that’ll leave you wanting more.
October prompts 2020 by xxenjoy (@witcher-and-his-bard) - these are all gems! there’s a really nice variety of prompts and lex’s writing is beyond words <3
Romtober 2020 by lesdemonium (@lesdemonium) - zoe’s prompts and takes were so good, oh my god. there were a lot of modern au fics —which i’m extra fond of— and just the perfect amount of fluff and angst.
if you enjoyed these — support their creators! <3
#thirsty thursday#fic rec#geraskier fanfic#geralt x jaskier#geraskier#hope to god the links work i spent half an hour fixing them#fic rec list
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by winnerstick
Geralt and Jaskier bet on who can keep up the pretenses of their fake relationship for longer. Somehow, the bet never really ends.
Words: 960, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Series: Part 21 of Romtober 2020
Fandoms: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, The Witcher (TV)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Categories: M/M
Characters: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion, Countess de Stael
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Additional Tags: Idiots in Love, Gambling, Sort Of, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Accidental Relationship, Fluff, Gay Chicken, Canon Era
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Psssst! Friendly neighbourhood anon here! It's a dark and dreary evening and I'm out here looking for new and lovely things to read and look at. Is there a piece of fanwork (someone elses or your own) or media you'd like to recommend or wish more people knew about?
Oh, hello there, anon! Good evenin to you, too :) New and lovely things to read and look at you say? Fluff, I presume. Let’s see...
First of all, let me recommend Not Truly Broken by @elliestormfound - it’s a delightful fluffy fic, as is most of her other T rated writing. Definitely check that out!
Next up is what you give is always what you need by @kageygirl - I definitely had a wonderful time reading that.
Take a look at @lesdemonium‘s Romtober, it’s toothrottingly fluffy and everything I need in this october.
Oh, also Fillingless Pie by @dat-carovieh which is a wonderful twist on That Line (you know the one).
Original fiction, too? Do you like fluff? Do you like queer and neurodivergent representation? Nonni, do I have the book for you! It’s been far too long since I gushed about Heart of Stone by @johannesevans, so here we go again. Please go read it (or buy it, if you want to support the author, it’s on amazon), it’s wonderful and I just couldn’t put it down.
And because you asked, I’ll self-rec, too: Take a look at Surprise the Child Surprise, a fluffy slice-of-life birthday fic.
Would you like my original stuff, too? If so, I’ve got a fluffy Tattoo Shop/Flower Shop story for you and this short thing about soulmates.
Thanks so much for your question, anon. I hope I can brighten your evenin with it. Have fun reading :)
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romtober day 1: fake dating
Rating: T
Ship: Geraskier
Word Count: 2421
Summary: Jaskier is invited to his parent's annual banquet, and to keep the nobles (and his parents) off his back, he asks Geralt to pose as his husband. Geralt completes this task a little too well.
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The banquet was the picture of opulence. Not a single expense was spared, and Jaskier could read the envy in the partygoers eyes as he passed them. His mother really had outdone herself this time; even Jaskier had to admit he was impressed. It was difficult for him to admit that, considering his family was as close to the heart--and hurt feelings--as they were.
Even the music was amazing. Now that took some effort to admit to. It would have been better, of course, if he’d had the opportunity to play for the banquet, but Jaskier knew that was a far-fetched idea at best. His mother and father still liked to tell the other “respectable” company that he was off studying, taking his time and exploring the world, before he came back to accept his title and lands. Truly, it was giving him a good head on his shoulders, allowing him to be worldly and lead the people of Lettenhove with grace and wisdom. It helped that they only referred to their wayward son as Julian; even in these circles, Jaskier was proud to say his stage name carried.
Despite the beauty, despite the fine wine and food, despite the beautiful lords and ladies around him, Jaskier was having a terrible night. It was his own fault, he knew. When he had received his invitation--really a summons, as Jaskier knew he had little choice but to accept--he had panicked. Another event in which his parents tried to court him into staying and taking over as Count, and tried to get him to court a lady or two of agreeable upbringing. Jaskier couldn’t stomach the dread. So he had asked Geralt for a favor.
Geralt was delivering.
“Darling,” Geralt started, drawing Jaskier’s attention back to the task at hand--a conversation with the Duke of some township or other. The hand Geralt had on the small of Jaskier’s back sent shocks of heat through Jaskier’s body, every time it moved ever-so-slightly. “There was a vineyard in Dorian, wasn’t there? The one where the owner gave you five bottles?”
That was an interesting retelling. Much more polite than saying that Jaskier stole the bottles after the owner had insulted Witchers and tried to cheat Geralt out of his pay for dispatching a pack of drowners tainting the water supply. Jaskier was learning a lot about just how talented Geralt could be at traversing a crowd of nobles--when he wanted to.
“Ah, there’s some controversy over that. Technically, when the borders changed, that vineyard moved to Maribor. Ask any of the workers, though, and it’s still in Dorian,” Jaskier answered, just barely remembering to add a smile at the end.
The duke guffawed and wagged his finger at Geralt; apparently Jaskier had managed to settle something for them, but Jaskier hadn’t been listening to the rest of the conversation. He wasn’t listening now, even, as Geralt continued on with the Duke as if this was something he just did on a regular basis.
Geralt was baffling. Jaskier had expected him to say no to Jaskier’s favor. Why would he want to pretend to be Jaskier’s husband at the party Jaskier’s parents threw every year? Even Jaskier didn’t want to go, which might have been partly why he even asked Geralt in the first place. Part of him was holding out hope that Geralt would give him an out.
Instead, Geralt had not only agreed, but had listened to every bit of advice and every pointer Jaskier had given him. All night he had been impressive--he had even managed to charm Jaskier’s mother. Jaskier did not often find himself at a loss for words, but apparently watching Geralt entertain a noble with stories of monster slaying with an unfortunately well-behaved hand on the small of Jaskier’s back was enough to render Jaskier speechless for hours. He had been the disappointing one all night.
“Excuse me,” Jaskier said, bowing a little as he shrugged himself out of Geralt’s grasp. It was rude, Jaskier knew, and if Geralt had done it he would have… well, he would have expected it, and maybe would have silently thanked him for the out, while outwardly complaining about his lack of decorum. But Geralt had been the picture of grace all night. Jaskier was the one that had been disheveled and thrown off guard and, at times, downright rude.
Jaskier couldn’t bring himself to care at the moment, however. Let the nobles talk. He knew they all would as soon as they left no matter what happened tonight, so Jaskier might as well underperform rather than living up to the lies his parents were no doubt telling the other people of the court.
The night air was crisp and cool against his face as Jaskier pushed the doors open onto the balcony. Technically, this area was off limits. No guest was allowed here and the servants had gone to great lengths to make sure that no one made it out here. But what were they to do when the Viscount of Lettenhove was the one trying to escape to his parent’s balcony?
Finally, Jaskier felt as if he could breathe. It should have been a relief to have Geralt so willing and helpful, and really he had been completely wonderful all night. Far better than Jaskier would have ever expected. And yet, he was so thrown off and upset by it. It would have been so easy to just lean into this, to accept Geralt’s exemplary behavior and pretend, just for a night, that Geralt regularly called him things like “darling” and “love.” That Geralt kept a hand on him at all times. That Geralt checked up on him when Jaskier left abruptly. As he did now.
“I must ask you to return--” a servant started, but Jaskier cut her off.
“It’s alright, Orla. He’s my husband,” Jaskier said, and even he winced at how bitter his voice sounded. He didn’t turn to see if anyone else noticed, though. Instead, Jaskier leaned against the railing, his forearms resting on the cold stone as he stared out over the grounds.
He heard rustling behind him and a door closing, but it was still a moment longer before Geralt joined him against the stone wall. There was still a space between them and Geralt, bless him, seemed almost hesitant to step closer.
“What’s wrong?” Geralt asked, finally leaning against the stone beside Jaskier.
Jaskier huffed an extremely forced laugh. “Wrong? What could be wrong? You’ve only been perfect all night. Everyone loves you. Even my mother, who could find fault in a saint.”
“And… that’s a problem?” Geralt asked, and Jaskier could almost picture the way his eyebrows must have been knitted in confusion.
Jaskier sighed, then buried his face in his hands. “No, darling, of course not. You’re doing exactly what I asked. You’ve made a wonderful impression and have made everything far easier for me.”
Geralt stood silent beside Jaskier, probably trying to decipher what, exactly, Jaskier was going on about. Jaskier wished he could do more to help, but Jaskier was just as flummoxed. This should have been perfect; a night Jaskier would tease Geralt about for years to come. Jaskier should have been preening under the attention and prideful over how much the other partygoers enjoyed Geralt. Instead, he felt empty and cold and as if he was missing something.
“You don’t seem like you in there,” Jaskier finally settled on.
The truth was far too big for him to speak just yet, so he settled for a half truth. The man inside wasn’t the Geralt Jaskier knew and loved, and neither the man inside nor the man outside was a Geralt that belonged to Jaskier.
“I thought you didn’t want me to be me. I thought you wanted me to be your husband,” Geralt said, and his voice was just a touch too serious for his teasing to be believable.
Jaskier straightened up and met Geralt’s eye, finally. Geralt looked lost, like a little boy who was just trying so desperately to be good, and coming up short. Or, perhaps Jaskier was projecting, since that was the way he often felt, especially when he was in Lettenhove. Geralt had a hand on the stone wall, and Jaskier covered it with his own.
“I always want you to be you. I’m sorry I made it seem as if I would ever want someone else,” Jaskier mumbled. He took a moment to stare at their hands, before finding Geralt’s eyes again. “This is all just a bit… much.”
Geralt hesitated a moment, then took a step forward. His hand turned beneath Jaskier’s and he took Jaskier’s fingers, his thumb running absently over Jaskier’s knuckles. Jaskier waited, but Geralt didn’t say anything, and Jaskier found he wasn’t surprised. The silence hung between them as they both waited for Jaskier--of course it would be Jaskier--to break it.
“I don’t think I knew what I was asking for when I asked you to do this,” Jaskier whispered, and he took a step closer to Geralt. The tips of their shoes just barely brushed together and if Jaskier wanted to, it would only take a quick sway to bring their lips together. “I don’t think I asked for the right thing.”
Geralt hummed. “What would you ask for now?”
“For you to accompany me. As yourself. Rather than as a puppet or novelty for the court,” Jaskier started. He wanted to say more, opened his mouth again to do so, but the words died in his throat.
Geralt’s eyebrow raised. “I doubt your mother would approve of me as I am for your husband. Didn’t you want to avoid her appeals to court suitable ladies?”
Jaskier looked away. Back over at the gardens. Geralt’s fingers tightened around his, as if Geralt was afraid Jaskier would pull away. This felt different than the hand at Jaskier’s back, but had Jaskier’s heart beating faster nonetheless. “I shouldn’t have had you pose as my husband at all.”
There was a long silence, and it wasn’t until Geralt tapped Jaskier’s hand with his thumb that Jaskier realized Geralt was waiting for Jaskier to continue. To explain. Jaskier sighed.
“You’ve been amazing in there. I didn’t expect you to… be so wonderfully physically affectionate, or use pet names, or talk me up and be otherwise… casually affectionate. Truly, you are a master at your craft, and if this whole witchering business goes to the wayside, you should consider a future on the stage.” Jaskier huffed and bit the inside of his cheek. He would keep himself together. “It’s easy to believe it’s all real. You play the part so well. There’s not a single person in there that doesn’t believe us as a couple, and sometimes even I forget.”
“Jaskier,” Geralt said. His voice was low, firm. Get to the point, Jaskier heard.
“I don’t want to spend a night pretending. I don’t want to enjoy myself too much, only to wake up to reality come morning.” He pulled his hand back from Geralt’s grasp and swiped it over his face. “I’m sorry, I thought I had a better handle on myself than this. I thought I could separate reality from fiction, but apparently I have fooled myself too thoroughly.”
The embarrassment rose through his body to paint his cheeks a vibrant, hot shade of red, and Jaskier could not bring himself to look at Geralt again as he turned toward the doorway.
“We should go back inside. I’ll get it together, and we can continue on as if--”
“We could start smaller,” Geralt interrupted, taking Jaskier’s hand again and using it as leverage to pull him back. Jaskier allowed himself to be pulled, and faced Geralt again, his eyebrows furrowed in his confusion. “Make reality. Different.”
“Geralt,” Jaskier started. His mouth opened and closed a few times as he tried, very carefully, to find the words he was looking for. Nothing sounded right. “You’re not proposing--”
“I’m proposing we change tomorrow, rather than tonight,” Geralt answered. He took a step closer to Jaskier, his free hand cupping Jaskier’s hip. “Build up to tonight.”
Geralt dropped Jaskier’s hand in favor of trailing his fingertips along Jaskier’s cheekbones, his jawline, his lips. Jaskier found himself breathless, almost dizzy, and he closed his eyes, trying to convince himself that this was real. It seemed far more likely that he had managed to stumble, hit his head on one of the many heavy, solid, and jagged rocks, and was now having a very imaginative, blunt-force-trauma-induced dream.
“Geralt, I’m afraid I might have been struck with delirium. It feels rather like if I asked you to kiss me, you would,” Jaskier whispered. Surely his imagination wasn’t good enough to create the feeling of Geralt’s thumb shifting as Jaskier’s lips moved. Jaskier may have to come to the conclusion that this was real.
“Why don’t you try it, bard?”
Jaskier let out the breath he had been holding, and rested his hands on Geralt’s hips. He opened his eyes again to find Geralt staring at him with probably the softed, most fond smile Jaskier had ever seen on his face. It was that smile, that barely-there tick of the corners of his lips that gave Jaskier his courage. Jaskier smiled back, just as small and soft, and Geralt stopped tracing Jaskier’s lips and held his face instead.
“Please kiss me,” Jaskier breathed.
The words were barely out of Jaskier’s mouth before they were swallowed into Geralt’s. Jaskier’s arms wove themselves around Geralt’s back, pulling him closer, and Geralt’s hand crept up Jaskier’s back as well. Geralt still held his face, cradling Jaskier’s cheek carefully, no matter how they moved together.
The air was just as cool as it had been when Jaskier stepped outside, but now Jaskier found himself warmed by the heat of Geralt’s lips. He put every ounce of longing into the kiss, and was almost surprised to find just as much wanting in Geralt. They had wasted time, so much time, but Jaskier was already quite fond of their methods for making up for that.
Finally, they had to part. Neither strayed far, though. Their foreheads pressed together, their breaths intertwined as Jaskier’s heart settled. Geralt’s thumb stroked Jaskier’s cheek, and Jaskier could hardly hear the din of the banquet hall over his own disjointed, trailing, endlessly giddy thoughts.
“If I ask you again tomorrow, will your answer be the same?” Jaskier asked.
Geralt hummed. “And every day after that,” he answered.
#my writing#octoberfest#geraskier#geralt x jaskier#jaskier x geralt#geraskier fanfic#i'm so bad at tagging things#put me out of my misery and just read this fluff#lmao#romtober
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romtober day 25: left at the altar
Rating: T
Ship: Geraskier
Word Count: 558
Summary: Geralt convinces Jaskier to run away with him.
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“Geralt! Oh, I’m so glad it’s you. Could you help me put on this bracelet? I’m having one hell of a time with the clasp.”
Jaskier was dressed in finery. No expense was spared, which suited Jaskier quite nicely. There was no greater excuse to dress up than his own wedding, after all. If the Countess was going to look beautiful and elegant, Jaskier could see no reason why he couldn’t dress to impress as well. Luckily, the Countess seemed to agree.
Geralt stood in the doorway, looking ruggedly handsome as usual, even without his armor. Jaskier was somewhat surprised Geralt even came; though he had, of course, invited his longest friend, noble weddings didn’t seem to be Geralt’s bag. But he came, and for that, Jaskier’s heart soared. He tried not to dwell on that too much. Geralt wasn’t moving.
“Or you could simply hide in the doorway,” Jaskier teased. “What’s the matter with you? Don’t tell me, I’m too beautiful.
After a moment’s hesitation, Geralt did enter the room, closing the door soundly behind him. He pulled up a chair beside Jaskier’s own, and his face was unreadable.
“You look good,” Geralt said.
Jaskier grinned. “Well, I thank you. No greater excuse than a wedding, I suppose, to dress nice.” He held out his arm a bit insistently. “Really, I’m useless at putting this on myself. Could you help me?”
Geralt, finally, took Jasker’s wrist in his hand. Carefully, quietly, slowly he wrapped the bracelet around Jaskier’s wrist and attached the clasp. When he was done, though, he did not release Jaskier’s wrist, nor did Jaskier pull away. Where Geralt’s fingers met Jaskier’s skin, Jaskier felt burning. How curious.
“Don’t marry her,” Geralt breathed.
Jaskier’s heart dropped into his stomach. He sat there, frozen, as Geralt lifted Jaskier’s wrist to his lips. Geralt peered up at him, his amber eyes locked on Jaskier, as he ran his lips softly, tenderly, over Jaskier’s skin, pressing directly over his pulse-point in a delicate kiss. Jaskier’s breath caught in his throat and when he spoke again, his voice was little more than a pathetic whimper.
“Geralt? What? Why?” he asked.
Geralt turned Jaskier’s arm, laying it out before him as he carefully, reverently, unclaspect the buttons of Jaskier’s sleeve and pushed the fabric away to reveal more and more of Jaskier’s forearm. His lips followed the trail of his fingers, leaving a trail of soft kisses all the way to the crook of Jaskier’s elbow. The air had been sucked out of the room. Geralt had stolen all of it.
“Because I am yours,” Geralt whispered. He pulled back and sat up, then pressed Jaskier’s fingers against his lips. Jaskier felt Geralt’s lips move before he heard the words. “I have always been yours.”
The Countess was devastated, of course. Jaskier’s family was livid, of course. It was the talk of the town, and about half the continent, for a good year, of course.
Jaskier was untroubled by a little bit of scandal. He was troubled by the hurt he had caused the Countess, and in a few years, he would have a chance to apologize, to explain, and though there would always be hurt feelings there, he would at least gain her forgiveness.
But Jaskier gained his Witcher that day. Because Jaskier had always been Geralt’s, as well.
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romtober day 10: just friends
Rating: T
Ship: Geraskier
Word Count: 2305
Summary: Geralt can't seem to understand why everyone thinks he and Jaskier are a couple. 5+1 times Geralt and Jaskier were mistaken for being in love.
CW: mild & implied homophobia. If you want to avoid it entirely you can, just skip scene 2. Alderman.
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1. Shopkeeper
“A flower, for your sweet?”
Geralt eyed the flower in the shopkeeper’s hand suspiciously. It was pretty; a simple pink carnation. Not what Geralt expected to find at an apothecary shop. He glanced at the shopkeeper holding it out to him, and though he expected to find something guarded in her expression, he found nothing. Just the kind smile of what he assumed was a sweet old woman. She held the flower out just a bit closer to Geralt, looking at him expectantly.
“Oh, I don’t--”
“It would look nice in his hair, don’t you think?” the woman continued. She gestured just past Geralt, and he turned to see Jaskier, fiddling with some glass vials in the corner.
“Geralt, are these big enough?” Jaskier asked when he noticed Geralt’s attention on him.
Jaskier seemed not to notice the shopkeeper’s attention, either, or the flower, for that matter. Geralt didn’t want to call attention to it, so he gave Jaskier a terse nod, then turned back to the shopkeeper.
“No, thank you,” Geralt said, instead shoving a potion toward her. “Just this, and the vial.”
She looked at him curiously, but obligingly put the flower away. When Jaskier came to stand by Geralt--frustratingly close, Geralt now realized--it was as if nothing had happened.
2. Alderman
The alderman’s eyes were dark the moment he set eyes on Geralt.
Geralt braced himself, more than well aware of what a look like that meant. Even if there was a monster in this town--and, according to the people who had pointed him in the direction of the tavern to find the alderman--this man was not going to be easy to deal with. He had already decided he didn’t like Witchers, and Geralt was more than prepared to deal with not only his bigotry, but with Jaskier’s likely reaction to his bigotry.
“Jaskier,” he said to his companion, and placed a hand on Jaskier’s shoulder. He turned Jaskier toward a table and nudged him into sitting, while Jaskier looked at Geralt curiously. “Stay here. I’ll talk to him alone.”
“But Geralt--”
“Stay here,” Geralt insisted, then walked away to avoid further argument.
As he turned back to the alderman, Geralt noticed his expression had darkened even further. Now he was eyeing Geralt as if Geralt was a threat to him. Well, people like this often thought Geralt was, so it wasn’t entirely surprising.
“I hear there’s a contract on a harpy,” Geralt said as he sat heavily on the seat opposite the man.
The alderman picked up his tankard of ale, and for a long moment, all he did was eye Geralt. “There is,” he said, then bent over to his side and produced a large bag of coins. “This enough for payment?”
Geralt lifted the bag. It was surprisingly full. Apparently, the problem was big enough that it was worth subjecting himself to paying a witcher a decent price. Geralt nodded his head, then handed the purse back.
“Just kill the monster, Witcher. We don’t care much for your kind around here.” And then, surprisingly, he nodded to Jaskier .
Geralt turned to look at his companion, who he assumed was causing some sort of trouble. Surely, he was flirting with the alderman’s wife or someone’s daughter. Instead, Geralt saw Jaskier just sitting there, thumbnail between his teeth, as he scratched some words onto the parchment before him. When Geralt looked at him, Jaskier looked back, and a smile stretched out behind his thumb.
“Our kind?” Geralt asked, turning back to the alderman with an eyebrow raised.
“Just keep your distance from each other, and we’ll be fine. And leave soon as you can.” The alderman’s arms crossed tightly over his chest and he glowered at Geralt.
Ah. Not the type of bigotry Geralt was prepared for. It made hot anger unfurl in his chest and he had half a mind to tell this man to go fuck himself. Geralt glanced back at Jaskier, now wondering at what had even led this man to come to that conclusion, and found it didn’t much matter.
He killed the harpy and took the man’s coin, but dumped the bloodied head on the floor of his home. Whatever Geralt had might be catching, after all. Wouldn’t want to risk the poor, delicate man.
3. Yennefer
“I see you two are still traveling together.”
Geralt glanced from Yennefer to Jaskier, who was over by Roach. He tried to make himself look busy, but Geralt could see that largely he was just weaving flowers into her mane. Geralt suppressed a smile; later, Jaskier would admonish Roach for eating the flowers as they fell, as if that hadn’t been his entire intention.
When Yennefer had shown up, Jaskier clammed up. They had traded a few barbs and Yennefer had come out as the clear winner, as she often did, and Jaskier had been sulking ever since. He was keeping his distance from both Geralt and Yennefer now, though Geralt caught the forlorn looks he tried to sneak every so often. Geralt, for his part, had moved his conversation with Yennefer far away from Jaskier to give him the space he clearly wanted; anything to help improve the foul mood he would likely deal with for the remainder of the day.
Geralt looked back to Yennefer and grunted. He didn’t like the look in her eye as she made the comment, or the fact that they had already finished their business, and yet she was still here, making conversation. Neither the look nor her continued presence was a comforting sign. Geralt had to be careful about how he answered her questions.
Yennefer watched him a moment longer, then sighed.
“Are you ever going to tell me ?” she asked, her face twisting into disappointment. “Or are you both just going to pretend that we don’t all know ?”
“Know what?” Geralt asked. His eyebrows furrowed.
Yennefer waved her hand impatiently. “You know! About you both. About how you feel for the other--” She cut herself off, then peered at Geralt a little closer, inspecting his face. “You don’t know?” Then her eyes moved to Jaskier, who was now locked in an intense discussion with Roach about something or other. “Neither one of you know, do you?”
“Know what ?” Geralt repeated, a bit impatient now.
“Oh, no. This is far better than I ever would have imagined.” Yennefer laughed and shook her head. “Please tell me when you figure it out. I will portal here immediately if only to see the look on your face.”
She refused to explain further, and even made her way back to the camp just to press further into Jaskier’s poor mood. It seemed to only fill Yennefer with glee, as she was laughing when she left them.
“What the hell was that about?” Jaskier asked.
Geralt wished he could answer that question.
4. Innkeeper
“Just the one room?” The innkeeper asked, sounding bored.
“Is there only one room available?” Geralt asked, and just barely held back the sigh.
They weren’t low on coin this time. Maybe Jaskier would like to have his own room for the night. He was too far away to ask; already he was trying to flirt his way into a free meal in exchange for his performance from the innkeeper’s wife. The patrons had perked up a bit when they saw Jaskier’s lute case; it was likely he’d make a fair bit tonight as well. They could splurge.
“No,” the innkeeper answered. “You have your choice of rooms. Haven’t had much travelers lately. Did you and your partner have someone else with you?”
The innkeeper nodded his head toward Jaskier, and Geralt’s eyes followed. Jaskier was getting his way, if the charming look on his face was anything to go by. His eyelids fluttered, and Geralt found himself momentarily distracted by the way his dark eyelashes fluttered against his pale cheeks.
It took Geralt a moment to realize the meaning the innkeeper imbued the word “partner” with. Another person thought Jaskier was his lover. It wasn’t an unpleasant thought. A confusing one, to be sure, as Geralt was sure they had done nothing to make anyone think so. Though, he had been wrong many, many times before about this very thing.
They had the money for another room. The room was available. He and Jaskier could sleep separately and have a little personal space from each other for once, and still have enough coin to get them a hot meal and through to the next town.
“No, no one else,” Geralt said, turning back to the innkeeper. “One room.”
5. Ciri
“You know you don’t have to be careful around me, right?” Ciri asked.
Geralt looked up from the rabbit he was skinning, only to be met with Ciri’s keen eyes. What, exactly, it was that she saw that Geralt hadn’t yet, he wasn’t sure. He raised an eyebrow at her, then went back to his task.
“Be careful how?” he asked. “Are you saying you want more work?”
Ciri groaned. “No, the training and getting the firewood and learning how to hunt and everything is enough, thank you,” she answered, sounding just a little petulant. As if she hadn’t been teasing Geralt earlier about not being able to keep up because he was an old man. Maybe he would throw a few extra drills at her. “I mean about you and Jaskier.”
Geralt’s hand slowed, just slightly, as he considered this. “What about me and Jaskier?” he asked.
He lifted his head to look at Jaskier, who was off bathing in a nearby stream after complaining for hours about how he had gotten covered in mud when a carriage rolled past. Even his face had been splattered, while Ciri and Geralt had managed to avoid the worst of it by sheer luck. Geralt had told him that if he would stop complaining and go bathe , then Geralt would catch three rabbits tonight. Jaskier had agreed, and didn’t even complain about how frigid the water would be. Not yet, anyway. Geralt was sure that was coming.
“That you’re… you know.” Geralt glanced at her in time to see her gesture… something. It mostly looked like she was pushing something invisible in Jaskier’s direction. “That you… love him.”
Geralt stared at her, baffled, for a long moment. “Ciri, we’re not-- Jaskier and I aren’t--”
“I’m just saying,” Ciri interrupted, “that you two don’t have to hide anything from me. If you love each other, that’s okay.”
She stood, abruptly, and set about setting up her bedroll. She didn’t need to do it now, usually she waited until after they had eaten, but Geralt understood the message there. Cirilla did not want to discuss this further. That was fine by Geralt, who also did not want to discuss this further.
That didn’t mean he was done thinking about it, though. He glanced back at Jaskier, who was now cupping water and pouring it over his head, then running his fingers through the strands. Geralt didn’t have to imagine how soft his hair would be now--he knew, he had washed Jaskier’s hair before. The only reason he wasn’t doing it now was because Jaskier had annoyed him enough that Geralt refused to help him remove the mud. He found, in a distant sort of way, that he regretted that decision.
Jaskier came back just as Geralt was pulling the last rabbit off the fire. He took the meat from Geralt with a grateful smile, then settled close beside Geralt to eat.
“That water was freezing. I’m surprised I still have all my limbs attached. We might need a larger fire, Geralt, because if I do not warm my legs soon , I fear I will lose them.”
+1 Priestess
“Would you like to leap the flames?”
The Priestess’s eyes were wide and Geralt, for once, found it to be welcoming, rather than with curiosity or fear. She looked young, but it was impossible to truly tell how old she was. The priestess motioned toward both Geralt and Jaskier.
“It’s a Belleteyn tradition. You leap over the bonfire for luck or fertility. If you leap as a couple, it is supposed to grant you luck in your relationship. New lovers often partake in this tradition, and guests are welcome as well.” She smiled, then, and gestured broadly to the bonfire. “Care to see if luck smiles down on you?”
“Oh, we’re not--” Jaskier started, but stopped when Geralt touched his wrist. Lightly, so lightly, just enough to get his attention. Jaskier turned to look at him, his expression curious.
“Do you want to?” Geralt asked. His heart pounded in his chest and as soon as the words left his lips, his mouth felt dry.
Jaskier considered him a moment, and all along Geralt felt the dread rise in him like bile to his throat. But then Jaskier’s face split into a wide grin and he took Geralt’s hand, their fingers slotting together as if that was where they meant to be all along.
They stood together and lined up behind another couple and just as they were about to take their own turn, Jaskier pulled Geralt to the side, out of the line, and motioned for the man behind them to go.
“Geralt you--you mean this, right? Exactly as the priestess said?” Jaskier asked, and though their hands stayed pressed together, doubt crept into his voice.
“Exactly as the priestess said,” Geralt agreed, nodding. “We’ve been mistaken for a couple enough times. They might as well be right for once.”
“We’ve been--what? What do you mean?” Jaskier asked.
Instead of answering, Geralt pulled them back in front of the bonfire, and prepped to run.
“Geralt, if you do not explain--”
“You better get ready to run, Jaskier.”
#geraskier#geralt x jaskier#jaskier x geralt#geraskier fanfic#geraskier fanfiction#my writing#romtober
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romtober day 30: drunken vulnerability
Rating: T
Ship: Geraskier
Word Count: 903
Summary: Jaskier finally approaches Geralt about his feelings about what happened on the mountain.
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After the mountain, things were different. Jaskier held Geralt at length, made himself smaller, quieter, as if that would protect him from Geralt’s unfair tirades again. Geralt knew he had Jaskier’s forgiveness--Jaskier never would have agreed to travel with them if he hadn’t--but there was something still off about Jaskier’s mannerisms.
Geralt tried, in vain, to poke at Jaskier’s newfound standoffishness. He did all he could to coax Jaskier out of his hurt and anger and back into something familiar. Nothing worked. There was too much distance between them, and no matter how hard Geralt ran, he could not cross it. He could not make it back to Jaskier. Instead, he had to wait. But what for, he wasn’t sure.
It happened two months into them reuniting. Geralt had retired to his room while Jaskier remained downstairs, drinking and making merry with the other patrons. They all took separate rooms, now, unless on nights when they did not have enough coin to afford three. When they could afford it, Ciri always got her own, and Geralt and Jaskier would either get a room with two beds, or Geralt would sleep on the floor. Each night, Jaskier looked troubled, but did not speak up. Geralt did not speak up, either.
Tonight, they could afford three rooms. So when he heard Jaskier come up the stairs, he intended to only listen long enough to ensure he made it safely to his own bed. Instead, he heard Jaskier stop outside Geralt’s door. He stood there for a long time, touching the doorknob occasionally, then apparently losing his nerve and letting go. The fourth time he did this, Geralt opened the door.
“Jaskier, what do you need?” Geralt asked, and tried to soothe his voice to be something soft, curious, rather than harsh and demanding.
Jaskier stared at him for a long moment, his eyes hazy with drink, then looked away. He looked just past him, into the room. “Can I come in?” he asked.
Geralt stepped back, opening the door further, and allowed Jaskier to step inside. For a long while, that’s all it was. Jaskier stood there, his arms wrapped around his middle, and stared at the wall. Geralt closed the door behind them and waited. What he was waiting for, exactly, he wasn’t sure, but he couldn’t help the small bit of hope that rose up in him.
“I need to--” Jaskier finally said, but cut himself off. He turned to Geralt. “I need to say something. And I need you to not interrupt me.”
Geralt nodded, and Jaskier took a breath.
“You hurt me. You really, really hurt me. On the mountain. But before that, as well. And--you’ve asked for my forgiveness, and I’ve given it, and I meant it. I do forgive you. I’m still hurt.” He took a shaky breath and looked around the room.
After a moment of deliberation, Jaskier crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed. Geralt hesitated a moment, then followed Jaskier. He stopped before the bard and waited for Jaskier to nod his assent before sinking down onto the mattress beside him.
“Jaskier, I--”
“I’m not done,” Jaskier interrupted. Geralt closed his mouth. “I don’t want you to say anything. Not even when I’m done. If we’re ever to move on from this, get back to what we were, then I need you to… just listen. It took a lot of alcohol for me to feel brave enough to say all this.”
Jaskier eyed Geralt, and Geralt nodded in response. Satisfied, Jaskier sighed.
“I’ve spent no small part of my life following you, Geralt. Being your friend and your barker and… whatever you needed me to be. And getting very little in return. I know, you do your best, and with all you’ve gone through… it isn’t easy. I mean, I could write an entire song series on the trauma you went through in your early years alone. Seriously. Did anyone ever hug you as a child? Or did they just continue to shit-shovel you through life?”
Geralt nudged Jaskier with a bump of their shoulders. Jaskier was getting off track, starting to ramble. He’d never forgive himself if he allowed himself to lose focus. Jaskier offered Geralt a half smile for his troubles.
“Right. Point is--I know why you keep me at a distance. I know why you turned your anger toward me after the dragon hunt. But knowing why doesn’t make it hurt any less, and doesn’t make what you did any less wrong.” He chewed at his lip for a moment. “If we are to continue this, and I very much want to... I need more. I want you to call me your friend and smile at me and maybe acknowledge the fact that we both know I’m in love with you. You don’t have to reciprocate. All I ask is for some consideration for my feelings.”
Geralt took a deep breath, but had to steel himself against a response. There was so much he wanted to say in return, but Jaskier asked for his silence. Jaskier watched him for a long moment, as if waiting for Geralt to break. When he didn’t, Jaskier looked satisfied. Happy, even. He patted Geralt’s knee and stood up.
“Thank you, darling,” Jaskier said. He walked to the door. “We’ll be okay. I’ll be okay. Just a little more time.”
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romtober day 19: yelling first kiss
Rating: T
Ship: Geraskier
Word Count: 1977
Summary: Jaskier gets very jealous when Geralt shows interest in someone else.
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Jaskier played on, fingering the strings of his lute like he was born to do. The crowd was eating it up--Jaskier had been impeccable at winning their favor. A well-timed wink, a smirk in the right direction, blowing a kiss or two. They were eating right out of his hand, and nearly everyone was dancing, singing, or at the very least stomping their feet. To his crowd, Jaskier was irresistible.
His witcher, however, was another story entirely.
Geralt was not paying attention. This wasn’t entirely surprising--when Jaskier performed, Geralt really only seemed to have a perfunctory interest in what Jaskier was presenting. Though Jaskier ate up any attention he could get, he couldn’t fault Geralt for this. After all, Geralt was his first critic every time, of every song. By the time Jaskier’s songs made it to the public, Geralt had heard every iteration of the lines possible. Even a robust love would temper and fizzle under circumstances such as these, and Geralt had professed no great love for Jaskier’s “pretty lies,” as he often called them.
However, it was not simply that Geralt was not paying attention that was eating at Jaskier--it was that he was paying attention to someone else . Jaskier prided himself on his ability to read a room while also performing, and he had tracked the changes as they were happening.
There, Geralt’s eye was caught by something-- someone --just to the left of Jaskier. At first, Jaskier had giddily mistaken it for a glance in his direction, only to quickly grow hot with shame as he realized that the look was not meant for him at all. As Jaskier turned about the room, he saw the object of Geralt’s interest, and the young man was just as interested back, if his furtive glances were to be believed. Jaskier thought, with no small amount of hope, that this was where things would end. Geralt didn’t often express interest in men, and he even more rarely did anything about his interest.
This time, however, boldness came down to the newcomer. Jaskier missed the moment he stood up--Jaskier had been far too distracted by flirting with a young woman who, in return, gave him a very generous tip. When Jaskier had his wits about him enough to check, the man was gone entirely, only for Jaskier to find him at Geralt’s table.
The worst part, the part that made Jaskier’s heart sink into his chest, was that Geralt was smirking at the man. How many times had Jaskier gone to Geralt with that very same stance, to get nothing but icy stoicism in return? Now this man walked up with half the swagger Jaskier had, like a dimmer, duller version of the bard himself, and he would have the honor of Geralt’s bed?
Jaskier had a performance to attend to. Adoring fans. Pretty women with prettier smiles, handsome men with eyes that sparkled in his direction. Jaskier would just have to hone this energy, this itching beneath his skin, this hurt in his chest, and aim it toward a more worthy nighttime companion. But every time he tried, he caught a snippet of the conversation Geralt and this stranger had, or his eye landed on the way the man was now touching Geralt’s arm, and Jaskier’s blood coursed through him, icy hot and devastating.
He couldn’t decide what he wanted to do, how he could process this better. Should he continue playing, to try to distract himself, or should he end his performance now, leave his audience wanting more, and leave to lick his wounds? The decision was made for him, however, when Geralt and the man left the tavern. There was no continuing after that, after the silent, delicate rush of pain as his heart chipped off just a bit more. Jaskier finished his set, thanked his audience, then retired to their room.
When Geralt found him, Jaskier was nothing more than a lump on the bed, curled up inside himself and pretending to the world he did not exist. Dramatic, certainly. But to fight against one's own heart was futile at best.
Geralt snorted. “Don’t tell me. You drank too much too early, and now you’re already hungover?”
Jaskier didn’t answer. No barb, no sarcastic retort, nothing. He realized, in an absent sort of way, that he probably should have, as that reaction was far more likely to convince Geralt to leave him alone. Still, he said nothing.
“Some lady broke your heart, then?” Geralt teased further. When Jaskier only huffed, Geralt shoved at his shoulder. Jaskier waved him off. “You’re melancholy tonight. Come on. Up.”
His order was paired with a, quite frankly, rude display of strength by pulling Jaskier up and off the bed. Jaskier stumbled as he was forced to his feet, and fell face-first into his witcher, much to his own personal embarrassment. Jaskier shoved Geralt off with a scowl.
“Leave me alone, you great brute!” Jaskier snapped, his hands landing on his hips. “I don’t appreciate you man-handling me in whatever direction you prefer!”
Geralt’s smile was small, but still managed to be shit-eating all the same. “You were on my side.” He shrugged, then pushed past Jaskier and onto the bed.
“Oh, no, definitely not,” Jaskier said, stepping in front of Geralt again. “I am not sharing a bed with you. You are--are sweaty and--and.” He paused, and his eyebrows furrowed as he looked at Geralt. Geralt hardly looked as if he had just had a romp in the hay, as it were. He looked entirely too put together, his hair barely even mussed. Not even the slightly swollen lips that would evidence a particularly heated makeout session. “Why do you look so…. Sheveled?”
Geralt raised an eyebrow and looked down at himself. “Sheveled?” he repeated.
“You--I saw you! I saw you leave with that man. Why do you look so damn put together?” Jaskier’s hands went back to his hips. Geralt was trying to make Jaskier look like a fool, Jaskier knew it. He would not stand for it.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Now, though, he grunted, and avoided Jaskier’s gaze. Instead, he turned his back on Jaskier.
“The hell you don’t! Gods, you must think me the stupidest man alive. I pay attention, Geralt. You can’t just act like I have no clue what I’m talking about whenever I hit on a subject you don’t care for.” Jaskier didn’t want to know, not truly. He couldn’t imagine a subject he wanted less details about than whatever Geralt and this man got up to. But now that he had started in on it, he couldn't stop. He was powerless against himself.
“Jaskier, drop it.”
“No, Geralt, I don’t think I will! You’re the one that condescended to talk to me when I so clearly wanted you to leave me alone , I think it’s only fair that you now have to deal with the consequences of that decision! I saw you . I saw that you were interested in him. So why are you here ? Why are you decidedly unfucked ?”
“Why do you care? What do you need to know of what we did or did not get up to?” Geralt crossed his arms and turned to give Jaskier a hard look, but Jaskier could not stop this forward momentum. Apparently, his mood had turned him self-destructive.
“You go in for that now? You’re so rare about showing affection for men, I had convinced myself you weren’t interested at all! So, what was it about him? Was it his look? I suppose he was handsome, in a common sort of way.” That was a lie. Geralt’s taste truly was beyond reproach, but Jaskier had to dig anyway. “No surprise you like them bold. After all, your last fixation was Yennefer. So, tell me, Geralt. What exactly is your type?”
“What are you--” Geralt started, but Jaskier interrupted him. Jaskier could see the confused look on Geralt’s face, he didn’t want Geralt to voice his questions. Jaskier was half afraid he’d answer them in his tirade.
“And then you don’t even fuck him! Even he wasn’t good enough for the great Geralt of Rivia? Is anyone? No, you just need to exert your own might over everyone. Get their hopes up and then leave and go back to your own room as if nothing happened!”
“You’re mad that I didn’t have sex with him?” Geralt sounded amused. Jaskier did not find the humor in this.
“‘I’m the White Wolf, I’m ridiculously handsome with a body sculpted right from the Gods themselves, I like to force bards out of beds when it suits my needs and force them to talk and when I leave with someone I don’t fuck them because all I really want to do is make people fall in love with me and remain cooly detached from everyone because I apparently get off on it .’”
He wasn’t aware of when he started yelling, but he was definitely yelling at Geralt now. And all Geralt did in return was smile at Jaskier. It infuriated him further. Jaskier would have much preferred if Geralt took the bait and yelled back, turned this into a ridiculous fight. Instead, he smiled. He looked as if he was trying not to laugh. And, oh, if that didn’t make Jaskier feel as if he was on fire.
“Jaskier, are you jealous?” Geralt asked, and his smile turned crooked.
“Of course I’m not jealous!” Jaskier retorted. His face felt hot as the embarrassed flush spread over his whole body. “You are a brute! You just--just do whatever you want with no regard for how those around you might feel. It’s-It’s selfish, it is! And I will not put up with it, and-and--” He stopped, abruptly, and suddenly he felt short on air. Jaskier was so worked up, he could hardly focus on anything beyond the way Geralt was stepping closer to him.
“Why do you care what I did or didn’t do with him?” Geralt asked, and his voice was soft. So soft, so gentle, something in Jaskier’s brain broke.
“Because it wasn’t me !” he exploded back, and closed his eyes in his shame. There would be no coming back from this. Not from the yelling, from the odd ranting, nor from the confession. Jaskier wished more than he had ever wished for anything to just be burned on the spot.
Instead, though, he heard Geralt come closer. He felt the warmth of Geralt’s hand just before it delicately cupped Jaskier’s jaw, turning his head just the slightest bit up. Jaskier melted into the kiss, his bones turning loose, liquid, as he stumbled forward into Geralt’s chest again and grabbed at something, anything, to hold onto. Jaskier’s fingers twisted into the soft, worn fabric of Geralt’s shirt, and Geralt caught him with a hand around his waist.
If they had stayed there even a moment longer, Jaskier would have forgotten his own name. He didn’t think he needed it anymore.
“It wasn’t you,” Geralt agreed. They pulled away, only to breathe, which hardly seemed worth it to Jaskier now. Geralt’s words were hot on Jaskier’s lips and it took a moment before Jaskier’s brain caught up.
“Of all the times to kiss me, you choose when I’m hysterical and yelling at you?” Jaskier groused, but his words held no bite. Especially not when paired with the desperate way he was pecking at Geralt’s lips.
“I wasn’t sure. You’ve never been so jealous before.”
“He… reminded me. Of me. But you liked him , I didn’t think you liked me .”
Geralt hummed, and captured Jaskier in another long, thorough kiss. “I do,” Geralt said, after, and Jaskier almost forgot what they were talking about. That was okay, too. Jaskier had done quite enough talking tonight.
#geraskier#geralt x jaskier#jaskier x geralt#geraskier fic#geraskier fanfic#the witcher#my writing#romtober
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romtober day 6: adopted by love interest’s family
Rating: T
Ship: Geraskier
Word Count: 1675
Summary: Jaskier wasn't quite expecting to have such a warm welcome at his first visit to Kaer Morhen, but he certainly isn't complaining. Especially not when he accidentally overhears conversations he wasn't meant to hear.
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“I do not kiss and tell,” Jaskier insisted haughtily, though he winked at Eskel and Lambert as he did so.
Lambert snorted into his drink--something far stronger than Jaskier would find at any old tavern in the Continent. Jaskier had taken one sip, gagged, and made some crack about it curling his chesthair that had Eskel and Lambert howling as they offered him something more suitable. More suitable, apparently, meant probably the strongest wine Jaskier had ever taken. It was meant to be sipped, absolutely, but at least Jaskier could stomach this one. He had never considered himself to have a weak constitution, but Witchers just so loved proving him wrong.
“That’s a lie and we all know it, bard,” Lambert accused, a finger pointed at Jaskier as he narrowed his eyes. Jaskier smiled pleasantly back. “If you had actually managed to kiss that princess, you would be bragging about it until your dying breath. I bet she rejected you.”
Jaskier feigned affront. “Rejected? Me? I’m offended you would even suggest such a thing. But I will forgive you, simply because you do not know of what you speak; you have not seen me in action.”
Now was Eskel’s turn to snort. “We haven’t seen you in action,” he repeated, an eyebrow raised pointedly and a teasing lilt to his voice.
“Have you seen him in action, Geralt?” Lambert asked, with all the faux innocence a shithead like him could muster. “Is it truly a sight to behold? Knicker dropping, would you say?”
Jaskier’s face flushed and he resolutely did not turn his attention toward Geralt, lest Geralt read a bit too much on his face. Geralt, however, didn’t seem to notice the teasing, which was less surprising and more disappointing than Jaskier would have thought. Instead, he hummed and tapped the table as if he was actually considering his answer. Bastard.
“It’s a sight, I’ll say that much,” he answered, ever the diplomat.
“Inspirational, truly. I think your roles should be switched. Geralt should sing of Jaskier’s triumphs,” Eskel said, rolling his eyes.
Jaskier waved a hand. “Save us all that misfortune, Eskel. Geralt would have to say a nice thing or two about me on occasion. I don’t think his poor, delicate heart could take it.” Jaskier grinned at Geralt and nudged him with his shoulder, only to receive an eyeroll and a push back--Geralt likely thought it was just a nudge, but it sent Jaskier tumbling over on the long bench. “See? Brute.”
When Jaskier had first come to Kaer Morhen, he had expected a far cooler reception than the one he received. He had been traveling with Geralt for years, and though he knew Geralt was fond of Jaskier, in his own ways, Jaskier could never quite call him warm. It was a safe assumption that a winter in Kaer Morhen would be much the same, but from three new witchers.
Vesemir did have a bit more of his progeny’s cool and collected demeanor, but he had clapped Jaskier on the back in a way Jaskier could almost call fatherly on multiple different occasions. When he had met Lambert and Eskel, Lambert had loudly started singing Toss A Coin at them and Eskel had pulled Jaskier in for the most thorough hug of his life.
Since that welcome reception, they had been outrageously chatty compared to their brother in arms, and nearly every night was spent talking well into the evening. Jaskier had no monster stories to regale them with, but the others did not make him feel as if he was the odd man out. Instead, they looked forward to his stories of skirt chasing and court drama just as much as he looked forward to their tales of heroics against monstrous monsters.
Monstrous monsters. Maybe he’d had a bit too much of the wine.
“It seems my meager human constitution pales in comparison to what your sturdier frames can put away. I fear I must retire before I say something to embarrass myself,” Jaskier said, pushing himself back from the table and standing.
“That’s the longest way to say ‘I’m pissed, gonna go sleep it off,’ I’ve ever heard,” Lambert snorted. “Do you ever say things straight?”
“No,” Geralt answered. “He once ranted through an entire meal, but the only thing he managed to say was that I was a troll.”
“And you are, darling. And a miserable hag to boot.” Jaskier waved a hand dismissively. “A true wordsmith such as I knows how to weave even the most simple of statements into works of art. Try not to miss me and my eloquence too much, and pray that you do not drink yourselves into an early grave. Is it still an early grave if you’re well over a hundred?”
The witcher’s laughed and bid him goodnight, and Jaskier made his way out of the hall.
The problem with the witcher’s keep was that it was not the most intuitive place to navigate. Jaskier prided himself on his sense of direction, having been in many a castle before, and all castles started to look alike with their long, windy hallways and doors upon doors, many of which led to nowhere. The keep was much the same, and the combination of its inherent confusion, the darkness, and Jaskier’s slight inebriation had Jaskier lost. Quite quickly.
It took him about ten minutes and four different doors he was certain had contained stairs earlier that day to finally admit defeat and shuffle back to the dining hall. He didn’t mean to overhear, he really didn’t. Jaskier wasn’t even trying to be sneaky--why bother, when you’re in a keep full of men pumped with so many mutagens they could tell the color of a rabbit from the way it shuffled its feet? Only, apparently the ale had dampened their attention enough that Jaskier’s quiet steps had gone unheard, and he was able to approach the door to the dining hall without so much as a stutter in their conversation.
“--like him, Geralt,” Eskel said.
“Aye. If you manage to fuck things up in the next year and don’t bring him back, I’m not sure if we can let you pass through the gate,” Lamber agreed, though his voice was unusually pleasant. Like he was teasing Geralt.
“So glad to know my own brothers have turned on me so quickly,” Geralt scoffed.
“Well, we’d probably let you in, but only because if your froze your balls off we’d be hearing about it for the next century or so. Seriously, though. He’s nice to have around. You have certainly been less moody this winter,” Eskel said.
“Yeah, you were a right prick last year. And the year before that.” Lambert paused, as if he was considering something. “You have been a right prick this year, too, now that I think of it. Maybe the bard just distracts from your overall unpleasantness.”
There was a quick scuffle and a grunt from Lambert, followed by a long laugh from all of them, though Lambert’s took a moment to move from begrudging to warm. Sometimes, Jaskier wondered if they truly were brothers since infancy; they certainly acted like it. Though, he supposed experiences like they’d had bound people together far more securely than mere blood.
“I’ll ask him, but there’s no guarantees. He makes his own decisions. Goes where he wants. I have no claim to him,” Geralt said, and Jaskier was sure he was not drunk enough to be imagining the sadness etched in his voice.
“Well that’s bull--” Lambert started, only to be drowned out by Eskel.
“Geralt, are you kidding?” Eskel asked, incredulous. “That bard would go wherever you went, if only you’d ask. Even over a fucking cliff.”
“Seriously. He makes eyes at you so frequently, I don’t think he’s even aware he’s doing it at this point.”
Lambert laughed, as if it was a joke, but Jaskier’s face grew hot with embarrassment. Ah. So they had noticed. Jaskier was half afraid they would, and now he had mounting concern over the fact that they were telling Geralt. Jaskier was quite certain this winter was about to get a hell of a lot longer, lonelier, and colder. Either Geralt would realize Jaskier’s affections were just as his brothers said and be disgusted, or he would just let them stay there, as if nothing had happened. Jaskier wasn’t sure which option was worse.
“I’m going to bed,” Geralt said, his voice gruff, and Jaskier heard the scraping of his chair against the wood.
Jaskier stumbled back a few steps, silently cursed himself, then tried to tiptoe away without attracting too much attention. This was not something he wanted to explain. Except, he still didn’t know how to get back to his own room. Fuck.
“If you’re smart, you’ll go to your bard’s bed!” Lambert called as the door opened. Fuck.
Jaskier scrambled behind a nearby door, trying to hide as quietly as he possibly could. It was a fool’s errand, he knew. After all, even drunk, Geralt would be able to notice him, surely. But he had gotten lucky once tonight when it was him against witchery senses; Jaskier could only hope he’d be lucky again. Otherwise he would have a fair bit of explaining to do.
Geralt walked by the door, and Jaskier only narrowly avoiding expelling a breath of relief. Until he heard Geralt stop, then push the door closed.
“Next time, you should make sure you close the door after you hide behind it,” Geralt said, a smile in his voice, then continued on his merry way, as if he hadn’t left Jaskier frozen to the spot in shame.
It took a long time for Jaskier to build up the courage to leave whatever room he had been hiding in. By the time he did so, Geralt was gone. Apparently, that was that. Apparently, Geralt was content to allow Jaskier to at least sort of live this down.
Maybe this winter wouldn’t turn out to be horrible after all.
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romtober day 3: grand gesture
Rating: T
Ship: Geraskier
Word Count: 1030
Summary: Geralt recognizes a bit of himself in Jaskier's low moods, and he's going to do his best to pull Jaskier out of it.
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Geralt hated when Jaskier’s face was pinched like that.
He hated when Jaskier had days like today, when everything seemed to be going wrong, and as the frustrations grew, his shoulders drifted lower and lower, forward and yet still more forward. Jaskier stopped playing on those days. It was a steady thing, something that had taken Geralt some time to pick up on, but Geralt had nothing but time when it came to Jaskier. Jaskier was making himself small and quiet and so un-Jaskier-like that it was almost painful to watch.
He had these days, sometimes. Geralt tried to ask about it once, but Jaskier had taken offense, stormed off into a nearby tavern, and Geralt didn’t find him again until midmorning the next day. Though he’d had Jaskier back by his side, it took days for Jaskier to relax around Geralt and be candid with him again. Geralt learned not to press, or if he did, to be a bit more gentle about it. When Jaskier had these moods, Geralt now knew to tread lightly.
Nothing in particular seemed to trigger it, but Geralt could always pinpoint the moods from the moment they awoke. It only happened when Jaskier seemed to wake up wrong. His face bore a wistful expression upon first rising, and Geralt didn’t need to be a Witcher to know he reeked of sadness. And if things didn’t seem to go right on those days, which they often didn’t, Jaskier would close in on himself more and more.
It took a long time before Geralt recognized himself in Jaskier’s moods.
When Geralt had these days, it rose like boiling water inside of him. He was particularly taciturn and snappish, and his anger only seemed to boil through the day. On those days, Geralt wasn’t angry, not really. Often, he felt more hurt and alone and empty. Those days happened less with Jaskier around, but they did not disappear entirely. It wasn’t Jaskier’s presence, exactly, but more Jaskier’s firm, silent statement. You do not scare me, and I intend to stay here, with you, no matter how hard you try to push me away .
Unfortunately, pushing people away was a strength of Geralt’s. He knew he made Jaskier’s moods worse, even when he made a particular effort to make Jaskier feel welcome. Geralt had long-since stopped trying to rid himself of the bard, but he was far from what anyone would call warm or inviting . If Jaskier was like Geralt, then Jaskier needed to feel welcome in Geralt’s presence. Wanted, even.
He tried all day.
“Here,” Geralt said, handing Jaskier half of his orange. Jaskier eyed it suspiciously, then eyed Geralt just the same. “You like oranges, don’t you?”
Jaskier hesitated a moment, then took the offering. “Feeling generous today, Witcher?” Jaskier asked, and though his shoulders remained bowed, Geralt caught just the smallest hint of a smile.
“You aren’t playing,” Geralt said, some hours later, as they walked the path.
Jaskier let out a soft, almost bitter laugh. “Don’t celebrate too much. I’m sure I’ll be back to my annoying self tomorrow.”
“Good,” Geralt answered. “I look forward to it.”
Geralt didn’t chance a glance at the bard until a few minutes later, and he found Jaskier staring at his lute with a furrow to his brow. He did not play, not yet, but when he returned the lute to its case, he seemed lighter.
The sun was getting low, but they were still about an hour out from the next town. Jaskier’s steps were dragging more and more as the day’s traveling caught up with him. At this rate, it would take maybe two hours to get to the town, and anything Geralt had done to lift Jaskier’s spirits earlier in the day wouldn’t do much good.
After a moment of considering his options, Geralt dismounted Roach.
“Here,” he said, gesturing for Jaskier to get up.
Jaskier looked at Geralt as if he had sprouted four more heads. “‘Here,’ what, Geralt?” he asked, and took no step further.
“Ride Roach.”
Jaskier’s mouth fell open and he glanced at Roach, then back at Geralt. “You never let me ride Roach. You aren’t even keen on me touching her.” He crossed his arms. “What are you playing at?”
Geralt shook his head. “Nothing, Jaskier. Just get on the horse. I won’t ask again.”
Jaskier looked no less suspicious of Geralt as he stepped forward hesitantly. Then, when it appeared that Geralt wasn’t going to rescind his offer, allowed Geralt to help him onto the mare. He remained silent until they had started moving, as if he finally believed that Geralt wasn’t playing a trick on him.
“Geralt, what’s up with you today? You’ve been… unusually generous.”
Geralt snorted a little. “I gave you some fruit. That’s not unusually generous .”
“And said you would look forward to me playing music again. And now you’re allowing me to ride Roach . Am I dying? Can you smell that on people? Because you’re acting as if this is my final day in this great land that belongs to the living.”
Though he teased, when Geralt glanced back at him, Jaskier’s face bore nothing but earnestness. The darkness that had overtaken his face was nowhere to be seen, though, and Geralt couldn’t help but feel pride. He had done that. Apparently, allowing Jaskier on Roach was the biggest, most effective gesture Geralt could have chosen.
“You’re not dying. Though, I haven’t completely ruled out that changing soon, if you don’t shut up .” Jaskier snorted, and Geralt allowed himself one small, secret smile, now that his face was turned back toward the road. “You were having a bad day. I thought I could help.”
They walked in silence for so long, Geralt had convinced himself the conversation was over. He was relieved, given that he had expected Jaskier to latch onto the information and never let it lie. Geralt didn’t want to explain himself more. It wasn’t until they were almost to the town, when darkness had completely taken over the sky, when Jaskier spoke again, soft and almost reverent.
“Thank you, Geralt,” he said.
Geralt hummed. And for today, that was enough.
#geraskier#geralt x jaskier#jaskier x geralt#geraskier fic#geraskier fanfic#octoberfest#my writing#romtober
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romtober day 17: second chance at love
Rating: T
Ship: Geraskier
Word Count: 588
Summary: Geralt finds Jaskier after the mountain and tries to convince him to travel with Geralt again.
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When Geralt saw Jaskier again, he was gaunter, less bright. Geralt expected it; after all, everything was lean in times of war. Likely, Jaskier wasn’t getting the sort of pay for his singing he was accustomed to. But he looked reasonably taken care of, and that was what mattered.
He hadn’t been interested in anything Geralt had to say. Geralt had expected that, too. What he had said on the mountain, he knew it was unfair and uncalled for, and had hurt his friend. Still, Geralt tried. He and Ciri stayed in town perhaps longer than it was strictly advisable when on the run from an invading army, but they both agreed it was important. It was practical: a party of three when Nilfgaard was searching for a party of two provided some extra protection, but Geralt could finally admit that there was more to it than that.
Now, Geralt could admit that he missed Jaskier. Being without him felt as if he had developed a blind-spot. Something was supposed to be there, and yet was missing. Jaskier provided an additional angle of observation as well as a source of humor Geralt hadn’t realized he had grown to find comfort in. Without Jaskier, Geralt felt alone and entirely out of his depth. Jaskier made it a little easier to breathe.
“You aren’t going to give up, are you?” Jaskier asked on the third day. “You don’t often stay in towns this long.”
“I don’t often have a reason to stay,” Geralt answered.
Jaskier eyed him curiously and he slowly drank his ale, considering.
“You’ll have to make it up to me,” he finally said, and Geralt’s heart swelled. This sounded like negotiations.
“I’ll do my best, every day,” Geralt promised.
“You’ll have to be nice to me. I won’t tolerate you using me as a misplaced outlet for your anger or hurts. Instead, you’ll have to talk to me. Tell me what’s actually bothering you, and let me help you fix it, if I can.”
Geralt was nodding before Jaskier even finished. “I’ll do my best. I’m rotten at it, but I want to treat you the way I always should have treated you.”
Jaskier hummed. “Well, don’t be self-deprecating about it,” he said, and Geralt delighted at the small smile Jaskier hid behind his tankard. “There’s plenty I could improve on, as well. Like toning down on the dramatics and actually giving you a chance to process your thoughts.”
Geralt was silent. There wasn’t much he could say to that, as an argument wasn’t his goal. They could both be better. They could both learn to earn the other’s company. Jaskier seemed at a loss for what to say, too, and that, more than anything, made Geralt feel as if they were on even ground.
“You don’t actually think--no, never mind,” Jaskier let out a nervous laugh and flapped his hand in Geralt’s direction. “If I ask if you meant what you said on the mountain, you’ll just get self-flagellating and heap praise upon me. Neither one of us needs that. I just need to know--would me being your companion again be a curse--or-or a burden?”
Geralt hesitated a moment, then covered Jaskier’s hand, which was resting on the bartop, with his own. Jaskier met Geralt’s eye and they shared a small, cautious smile. They’d get to know each other again, Geralt knew. Things would become easy again. If only they pushed through this storm.
“Having you with me again would be the blessing.”
#geraskier#geralt x jaskier#jaskier x geralt#geraskier fanfic#geraskier fanfiction#my writing#romtober
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romtober day 14: forbidden love
Rating: T
Ship: Geraskier
Word Count: 390
Summary: Jaskier’s hands were distracting.
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Jaskier’s hands were distracting.
His fingers were long and slender, covered in calluses, not from a rough life of manual labor, but from a dedication to his craft. He touched things delicately, as if they might break if he put too much pressure on them, as if he had somehow confused himself with Geralt’s heavy, destructive fumbling. With those fingers he could pull a melody from just about any instrument, Geralt hadn’t seen him fail once, no matter how much he claimed his incompetence. Geralt longed to kiss them, to see if his lips could parse the bridge between soft and hard.
Jaskier moved like he was dancing. Lithe and nimble, like he was performing, always. His fingers danced, too. They trailed just above Geralt’s skin, never touching, never breaking the strict, invisible lines they had drawn between themselves. Sometimes, Geralt half expected to see magic done with those fingers, but so far Geralt could find nothing magical about the bard except for, well. Everything.
Sometimes, Jaskier wore rings. Fine, jeweled ones, that looked almost heavy and caught the light, and Geralt’s eye, every time he moved. Simple, silver and gold bands, that Jaskier twisted when he was lost in thought or nervous. Gaudy, ugly things, that looked so beautiful on Jaskier, because everything looked beautiful on Jaskier.
Once, Jaskier had taken Geralt’s hand. He had been drunk at a festival, and claimed the move was so he wouldn’t lose Geralt. Jaskier entangled their fingers and held tightly the rest of the night, even when they were no longer at risk of separation. All night, Geralt was worried he would crush Jaskier’s fingers, that he would pull back when the softness of his palm pressed against the rough sword-calluses of Geralt’s. He didn’t, not once. And when they sat together in the tavern late that night, and Jaskier took his hand out of Geralt’s, those nimble fingers traced the ugly hardness of Geralt’s palm.
Jaskier’s hands were not for Geralt to hold. They were for pulling melodies from instruments, for touching the expensive fabric of fine clothes, for delicately holding goblets of wine. They belonged wrapped around a lady’s waist or holding the hand of some princess as he kissed her knuckles. They were for noble people, expensive people, beautiful people, just like Jaskier.
Jaskier’s hands were not for Geralt.
#geraskier#geralt x jaskier#jaskier x geralt#geraskier fanfiction#geraskier fanfic#my writing#romtober#hey are you guys proud of me#this is SO SHORT
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romtober day 27: first love
Rating: T
Ship: Geraskier
Word Count: 821
Summary: Geralt had never been in love.
AN: thank you @theamazingbard for the awesome prompt!! i didn't fulfill it completely and explicitly and i'm so sorry for that! eventually i wanna get back to it and fully GO FOR IT with this plot. but i appreciate the heck out of you!
full prompt: "OKAY first love prompt: geralt, demisexual, 34 y/o. he's never really been in love before, isn't sure he CAN. and then it's a slow burn/slow realization with jaskier and the feeling is so strong it's almost overwhelming. how tf does he deal with this?"
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Geralt had never been in love.
Love was not for witchers, not truly. They had a long, hard life, and were afforded very little comforts. What else was love but a comfort? A volatile one, at that. No love could withstand the responsibility of the Path and all the scorn that came with it. How could Geralt ever ask someone to follow him, to face the derision thrown Geralt’s way, and receive the same themselves? How could Geralt expect a companion to stay with him even when he went after fearsome monsters, left them for days with no word, and came back covered in blood?
So Geralt did not find love. He did not look for it, he did not want it. Geralt would not be the man to shackle someone to this life, all for him.
Jaskier was the exception. Geralt never asked him to come, in fact he often tried to dissuade Jaskier’s company altogether. But Jaskier would not be deterred, and so he came along. He faced the scorn and threw it back in their faces, and over time Jaskier even lessened it. Every fight Jaskier begged and wheedled to be allowed to come along, and sometimes Geralt won, and other times Geralt thought he won, only to have Jaskier tail him anyway. As if Geralt couldn’t hear him. Geralt let him. When Geralt showed up days later than expected, Jaskier did not complain, but Geralt saw the relief in his eyes as he took in Geralt’s often disgusting, but usually unharmed form. He wrinkled his nose at the smell, but pushed up the sleeves of his chemise anyway to help Geralt get clean.
It was nice to have company. Talking to Roach had satisfied him thus far, but Jaskier added new energy. It was a comfort to hear another voice, and Jaskier so rarely required input from Geralt. As such, Geralt was happy to let Jaskier chatter away. He told rambling stories about this or that, hilarious ones that made Geralt chuckle, and Jaskier rejoiced in all displays of good humor from Geralt. It became easy to laugh with someone.
When Jaskier was gone, Geralt missed him. At first, he tried to convince himself it was the convenience of traveling with company he missed. When a hunt went long, he did not have to worry about Roach’s care. Another person to bring in coin for their rooms and handle the innkeepers that would turn Geralt away. Someone to talk to.
Before long, the things he missed about Jaskier grew less utilitarian and more… Jaskier himself. Geralt missed the way Jaskier hummed as he dressed in the morning, but in a sleepy, imprecise way as he tried to wake himself up. Geralt missed the way Jaskier told stories, how every time felt like a new tale, and somehow each time it was funnier. Geralt missed the way Jaskier’s eyes shone when he looked at the stars. He missed the way they shone when he looked at Geralt.
When Geralt had him back, each time he opened up a little more. It was a conscious thing. Jaskier gave so much of himself to Geralt, it was only fair that Geralt gave some of himself in return. Jaskier asked for nothing, and yet every time Geralt got closer, he practically buzzed with happiness.
Geralt placed a hand on his shoulder, and Jaskier froze, then leaned into it. Geralt told him a story from his childhood, and Jaskier listened with rapt attention, no notebook in sight to turn it to song. Geralt offered to wash Jaskier’s hair, and Jaskier sighed into it but said nothing, almost as if he didn’t want to scare Geralt off.
Jaskier kissed him first. Geralt had been sharpening his sword, lost in his task, and had been sure Jaskier was composing. At least, until Jaskier crowded into his space, took Geralt’s face in his hands, and kissed him thoroughly, as if he’d never get the chance again and wanted it to matter.
When Jaskier pulled away, Geralt watched him, dumbfounded, and Jaskier’s grin was sheepish. “Forgive me,” he said. “I was… caught up.”
Geralt did not offer his forgiveness. Instead, he put down his sword and gingerly took Jaskier’s face in his own hands, delighted in the feeling of stubble under his fingers, and brought him back in for another kiss.
Geralt had never been in love before.
Jaskier surprised him, filled every crevice, cured every bit of loneliness Geralt had inside him. For Jaskier, he learned to accept, welcome, and even seek out the easy affection Jaskier offered. He allowed himself this comfort, of having a companion with him, and trusting that Jaskier would stay as long as he cared to, and Geralt was not trapping him anywhere. Jaskier chose this life, chose Geralt, and so Geralt could find the strength to choose him back.
Loving Jaskier was the easiest thing Geralt had ever done.
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