#geraskier crack

[0dde11eth]

Meeting up with jaskier in the spring is always an interested experience. The bard is always full of stories of his winter in oxenfurt.

Jaskier: "Geralt! I saw a murder!

Geralt: "!?!?!?!?"

Jaskier: "thats what a group of crows is called. Hahaha get it?"

Geralt: "hmm"

Jaskier: "also a guy got stabbed when i was performing at a bar!"

Geralt: *chokes on his spit*

[horsedadgeralt]

the enemy from within.

They have been sitting in comfortable silence for a while, both of them eating their dinner, when Jaskier decides to speak up.

“Geralt, when was the last time you had meat?”

The Witcher barely reacts, just looks over to the hare currently being roasted over the fire.

“We’re eating meat right now.”

“Yes, I know, but I mean actual meat. A deer maybe. More than the lonesome rabbit every once in a while.”

Geralt pauses, spoon in mid-air.

“Dunno. Why?”

“I was just wondering how much longer we are going to have to add beans to every one of our meals.”

The oh so innocent look on Jaskier’s face makes Geralt suspicious.

“I thought you liked beans,” he finally says, carefully, as not to reveal himself.

Jaskier takes another spoonful of stew before answering.

“I do. It’s just... Maybe we should switch it up a bit.”

Geralt raises an eyebrow. There’s something Jaskier isn’t telling him.

“And why is that?”

“Let’s just say... Well, how do I phrase this...” Jaskier is obviously uneasy, shifting around and avoiding eye contact. “The way it is right now, I think you should rename Aard to, well. Faart.”

At that, Geralt drops his spoon into his bowl and glares at the bard.

“Are you saying that I stink, Jaskier?”

Jaskier looks as though he would like for the earth to swallow him whole, but it’s too late — he has already made his bed.

“Am I saying that every single one of your pores radiates the smell of fermented beans? Maybe! Am I saying that sometimes at night, when you let out a silent waft of air and it envelopes me like a deathly cloud, I think I may not make it out alive? Maybe! Do I still love you nonetheless? Absolutely!”

Geralt can feel his cheeks turning red, and he looks down in shame. He hasn’t felt this humiliated since the one time he lost a bet to Lambert and had to talk like a goat for an entire day — “So that Lil’ Bleater has a playmate!”.

Somehow, this is worse though. He wouldn’t have been surprised if Jaskier had been repulsed by his looks, but this?

A gentle pair of hands on his cheeks pulls the Witcher from his thoughts.

“I’m sorry,” Jaskier begins. “I didn’t know how to bring it up without hurting your feelings, but I was also tired of fearing for my life every night.”

Fucking bastard. Geralt can’t help but laugh, and he leans forward to catch the bard’s lips in a tender kiss.

“Well. At least we don’t have to worry about any intruders during the night — if what you say is true, they are going to faint before they reach our campsite.”

Jaskier giggles and pulls Geralt’s hands into his.

“Yes. And tomorrow when we reach town, I am going to be on the lookout for some beef stew.”

Silence. Only a soft breeze in the air.

The Witcher flashes Jaskier a cheeky grin.

“Geralt, I am going to fucking kill you.”

[sandraharissa]

They're the same picture.

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

Baby, You Light Up My World

well I haven't done this trope yet...

sold to 1D au - modern au - absolutely a fluffy crackfic

I didn't do much editing, I just wrote this for funsies.

Please consider leaving me a comment since it is my birthday month. As both a bisexual and a Leo I desire nothing more than validation.

tw: mild panic attack

---

“Jaskier! You useless layabout!” his mother called from the bottom of the stairs. “Get down here!”

The young man dropped the book he’d been reading and jogged down the staircase from his room to the main floor. “Yes, Mother?”

“I had to pay the bills after your father died mysteriously so I sold you online.”

“What!?” Jaskier gaped, jaw dropping.

“Yeah, and your new owners are almost here.”

“My new owners!? M-Mother, what do you mea-”

“Go upstairs and get your shit packed,” the frowning woman interrupted. She lit up a cigarette and rolled her eyes in obvious annoyance. “That doorbell is going to ring any minute now and then my problems are over.”

The shocked teen wandered back up the stairs to his room, where he packed his meagre belongings into his old summer camp duffel bag and laid his father’s old guitar gently in its velvet-lined case. His mind raced with questions. Would they be nice people? Would they be cruel? Would he be happier with these strangers than he was at home or at school? Who were they? Was this even legal?

Jaskier nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard the doorbell ringing. He grabbed his bag and his guitar and slowly made his way to the front door. His mother was chatting quietly with several people - men, judging by their low voices - and his heartbeat skyrocketed.

“C’mere, boy,” she ordered, snapping her fingers with impatience. Jaskier scurried forward. “Meet the people who are taking you off my hands.”

“Hello, Jaskier,” said a familiar voice. His head shot up, blue eyes wide and confused.

“G-Geralt deRiv!?” his gaze moved from one man to the next in quick succession. “L-Lambert… Eskel?”

It was his favorite band, Wolf Direction.

---

EARLIER THAT MORNING

---

“Why the fuck are you buying another band member?” Lambert asked, glancing over Vesemir’s shoulder to read his laptop screen. “Why not just hold some open auditions?”

“Because this is a fanfiction, Lambert,” their manager huffed. “And this is how Geralt and Jaskier's meet-cute has to happen.”

“Oh.”

---

BACK TO THE STORY

---

Lambert took his guitar and Eskel took his bag while Geralt herded Jaskier onto the large tour bus parked in his too-short driveway. Jaskier was still in shock; his limbs moved on autopilot as he sat down on the surprisingly comfortable couch that stretched along one wall of the bus, beneath the tinted windows. Geralt sat beside him but kept his hands to himself, waiting for the old man with the mustache to speak first.

“Well hello there, Jaskier,” the stranger greeted warmly. “I know this is an unconventional situation but I wanted to personally welcome you to Wolf Direction. I'll admit that it's all a bit sudden and unexpected, but we needed someone with your gentle disposition to help balance out the boys and you're almost the same age, which is convenient.”

"I'm-" Jaskier blinked owlishly. "I'm joining the band?!"

"You're going to be the new front man," Lambert winked.

Jaskier, completely overwhelmed by the events of the past half-hour, passed the fuck out.

Geralt startled a bit as the brunette boy slumped against him and he gave Vesemir a worried glance. “What the fuck?”

By the time Jaskier managed to regain consciousness they were already nearly a hundred miles away. He sat up from the arm of the couch and stretched, listening as several places in his lower back popped into place. “Huhn?”

“Oh!” Eskel grinned, setting down his X-Box controller. “You’re awake!”

“And you’re Eskel.”

“Yeah… I sure hope so.”

“Cool.”

“Please don’t faint again!” Eskel pleaded, propping the smaller boy against a pillow and covering his lap with a blanket. “You scared the shit out of Geralt.”

“Sorry,” Jaskier blushed, allowing himself to be prodded and adjusted. “I didn’t mean to… It’s just been a very weird morning.”

“It’s going to get weirder,” Lambert added, slamming the bathroom door closed behind him. “Because now we have to know which one of us you’d like to bunk with. There are only four bunks and the bus driver has the couch.”

“Uhhh…” Jaskier’s eyes flickered between Eskel and Lambert. “I’ll just sleep on the floor.”

“I’ll take the floor,” Geralt offered, poking his head out from behind one of the bunk curtains. “He’s new and probably terrified. He’ll need more sleep than I do after the day he’s had.”

“I- No, it’s-” Jaskier tried to argue but none of the band members wanted to listen.

“Alright, floor for Geralt. Jaskier can have his bunk.”

Jaskier felt wrongfooted all over again. “Th-Thanks.”

“No problem. You any good at FIFA?” Eskel asked, offering Jaskier a second controller. The young man shook his head and settled back onto the couch.

“I brought a book,” he smiled timidly.

“Oh, you and Geralt will get along swell,” Lambert teased, tossing Jaskier the duffel. “The bus has been infested by bookworms!”

“Wouldn’t hurt you to read a book or two,” Vesemir said over his shoulder. “Might actually manage to fill some of the space between your ears.”

“Fuck off,” Lambert groused. He fumbled his way into his own bunk. “Let me know when it’s time to eat.”

Jaskier, still surrounded by a cloudy sort of surreality, opened his book and lost himself in the pages.

---

TWO WEEKS LATER

---

Jaskier had forgotten how much he hated thunderstorms. He whimpered as another loud bang shook the bus and rattled him in his tiny bunk. Thankfully the driver had parked them for the night, so he didn’t have to worry about crashing into a tree during inclement weather. He was worried about blowing away in the wind, however.

“G-Geralt?” he whispered, poking his head out from behind the dark curtain. Geralt blinked up at him from his air mattress on the floor, still mostly asleep.

“Hmm?”

“Wanna share the bunk tonight? I-” Jaskier licked his lips anxiously and took a deep breath “I’m scared of the storm.”

“Sure,” Geralt lumbered to his feet and slid onto the twin-sized mattress next to Jaskier. Their legs were pressed together and their faces were only inches apart. “Sorry. Bit of a tight squeeze.”

“I don’t mind,” Jaskier muttered. He was glad that the darkness kept Geralt from seeing the way his face had gone red from being in such close proximity to his favorite member of the band.

He and Geralt had been dancing around each other lately - terrified of their very obvious and very mutual feelings for each other - and Jaskier was glad for an excuse to be near him again. Geralt spoke up again: “Scared of storms?”

“I used to have the attic bedroom at my house,” Jaskier explained, keeping his voice low. Eskel was right above them, snoring away. “And once, during a storm, a tree branch flew through my window. I haven’t been able to sleep through the sound of thunder since.”

“I’m glad you’re alright,” Geralt replied. One of his heavy arms came to rest over Jaskier’s ribcage, holding him without holding him; merely a comforting weight to settle his nerves.

“Me, too,” Jaskier smiled. “Sorry for interrupting your sleep. I’ll be quiet now.”

“Hmm,” Geralt hummed his acknowledgement. He tucked the younger man’s head beneath his chin and started humming an actual tune, running through all of Jaskier’s favorite Wolf Direction songs until he started snuffling quietly. “Sleep, Jask. I’ll keep you safe.”

And he did.

---

TWO MONTHS LATER

---

"Thank you so much, Detroit, we loved being here!" Jaskier waved to the audience and let the microphone drop. He was panting for breath and sweat dripped from his bangs into his eyes, still... this was the happiest he'd ever been. Geralt wrapped a strong arm around his waist, waved to the screaming crowd one last time, and escorted Jaskier into the wings.

"You did great, babe," he smiled. Jaskier grinned up at him.

"Really?"

"You always do."

"You guys are disgusting," Eskel made a fake gagging sound.

"I think it's adorable," Lambert argued. They switched sides every week or so to keep things interesting. "They were made for each other."

"Whatever," Jaskier stuck his tongue out. "This is a found family strangers-to-lovers fic. We can do whatever we want."

"I want to kiss you," Geralt suggested. Jaskier grinned again.

"Sounds like a great ending to me!"

So they kissed, and it was beautiful and sweet and everything Jaskier had ever hoped for.

[suck-too-hard-on-your-jaskier]

Jaskier: Am I mad at Geralt? Yes.

Jaskier: Will I forgive him? Maybe

Jaskier: Will I make him beg me for forgiveness when he realises there is a big me shaped hole in his life? Abso-FUCKING-LUTE-ley

[klep-the-bard]

In an alternate universe...

Jaskier: Oh, you usually just let strangers rub chamomile onto your lovely bottom?

Geralt: I wouldn’t call you lovely

[all-or-nothing-baby]

Dean, watching The Witcher on his laptop: What the hell is goin' on?

Sam, half-watching while researching: Hmm? What?

Dean, waving his hand angrily at the screen: Why the fuck is Geralt now sleeping with the witch chick?!

Sam: Um--

Dean: I mean, it's SO obvious him and the human singing dude are in love, right? Wtaf?!

Sam, smacking his head repeatedly off of the map table: Yep

[dourwitchering]

friends or more?

geralt: why do you insist on calling yourself my friend?!

jaskier, sadly: you don't want to be my friend?

geralt: no, that's not-... i do but you act like there's... something more

jaskier, brightly: oh there is! i'm so glad you asked!

geralt, sitting up, excited:...

jaskier, dreamily: i sometimes imagine us as mercats! you know, mermaid cats

jaskier: i even drew a photo, let me show you!