Hello everyone! Thanks to @whataboutthebard for hosting such an awesome event with great prompts. Thanks to @sulkyskywalker for beta reading! Read on A03 here
Title: Goodnight my Angel
Prompt: KidFic
Pairing: Jaskier/Geralt and Jaskier & Ciri
Rating: General
Warnings: brief mentions of a house fire and a car crash and mentions of canonical deaths (i.e. Calanthe and Eist)
Jaskier woke with a start at the sound of screaming.
His muddled mind took a moment to take stock of his surroundings. He was at home, in his bed…alone? Ah, right, Geralt was working the night shift again, but the screaming—
Ciri.
Without another thought, Jaskier scrambled to find his glasses on the bedside table and rushed out into the hallway towards Ciri’s room.
Although he had known Ciri since she was a small child, she hadn’t been a permanent fixture in Geralt’s and his lives until recently. Geralt had volunteered to care for the infant nearly a decade earlier upon Pavetta and Duny’s untimely passing, but the courts decided that Ciri’s guardianship would go to her grandparents. Begrudgingly, Calanthe had allowed Geralt and Jaskier to visit Ciri on occasion, but Calanthe had loved jealously and feared that they would take Ciri from her.
Jaskier wished that her fears hadn’t come to pass.
It had only been three months since they had gotten the call in the middle of the night. A house fire, consuming everything in its path and sparing none but Ciri. She’d been theirs ever since, along with the sleepless nights that accompanied her.
Jaskier was no stranger to childhood trauma. As a middle school music teacher he often dealt with children that had seen far too much in their short time on Earth. Even so, -, he had no clue where to start.
Ciri had always been a sweet, energetic child, taking joy from the smallest things around her, but ever since the accident she’d withdrawn into herself. Jaskier and Geralt had tried everything to help; they had gotten her a therapist, tried to make her surroundings to her liking, hell, he had even learned how to bake her favorite treats. Each day the Ciri he knew and loved would peek out from behind the mask, like the sun on a cloudy day, but every night the nightmares returned with a vengeance.
Jaskier skidded around the last corner—grasping the wall as he tripped over the hallway runner—and burst into her room. With a quickness only brought by muscle memory, he flicked the switch, momentarily wincing at the sudden brightness of the room until his eyes adjusted.
The sight that greeted him broke his heart.
As per usual, Ciri was still asleep. In the three months she had been with them, Ciri never woke up from her nightmares naturally. It wasn’t until either Geralt or Jaskier woke her that she was freed from the horrors of her mind.
Jolted into action by another piercing scream, Jaskier leapt across the room and began to softly call her name. “Ciri. Cirilla, darling, open your eyes.”
Jaskier watched as she tossed around on her bed, her youthful face screwed up in terror. He wished to wake her more quickly by placing a hand on her arm, but he had learned his lesson after such an action had sent her straight into a panic attack. Instead, he continued to call out.
“Ciri. Cirilla, you’re safe. You’re in Geralt’s house with me. No one can hurt you here.”
With those words, Ciri shot straight up with a scream, pushing herself into the corner of her bed as her eyes darted frantically about until she caught sight of him. At that moment she launched herself across the bed and into his arms.
“Oh dearheart, you’re okay, I promise. You’re safe, you’re not there anymore.”
The only response he received were keening cries into the crook of his neck as she continued to sob. Helpless, Jaskier continued to murmur reassurances until she finally pulled away and wiped away her tears.
“I’m sorry,” she said with a sniffle, “I keep on waking you up with my stupid nightmares—”
Jaskier shook his head and opened his arms, a silent invitation that Ciri took as she curled up next to him. “Don’t apologize, Love. Your nightmares aren’t stupid. Besides, when you’re as fabulous as me, you don’t need beauty sleep darling.”
Ciri snorted out a laugh and pulled away once more to wipe away some stray tears. “I just want them to stop.”
“Of course, and someday they will.” Jaskier paused, deep in thought before he turned to her. “You know, I used to have nightmares too.”
Ciri’s eyes widened to show her interest even as her silence stretched on. Taking her nod as a signal to continue, Jaskier said, “When I was 10, I was in a bad car crash. I was stuck in the car for nearly an hour before emergency personnel could get to us. I dreamt of being trapped for a long time after and I would wake up my parents screaming for months.”
Ciri sniffled and bit her lip as she processed the words. At least, Jaskier hoped that was what she was doing. The machinations behind an 11-year old girl’s mind were unknown to him.
“But it stopped?”
“Eventually,” he replied, rubbing a soothing pattern along her back, “but it took time.”
Ciri nodded, picking at her cuticles as he waited for her reply. After a few moments, she muttered, “But if the nightmares stop…does that mean I’m forgetting them?”
Jaskier’s heart broke as he looked into his goddaughter’s pale face and he fought back tears of his own. “No, darling. You aren’t forgetting them because you’ll still remember the good things everyday. You’ll remember your grandmother’s ferocity and Eist’s kindness. You’ll remember the shopping trips and horrible omelets—” He paused as Ciri let out a wet laugh and he placed a kiss at the crown of her head. “You’ll remember. You’ll just heal from the bad, and trust me when I say that’s what they would want for you, princess.”
Ciri nodded as tears streamed down her face. “Thank you, Jask.”
Jaskier shoved his own tears into a box for later and pasted on a smile. “Of course, darling. Now—” he punctuated the word by slapping both hands on his thighs and moving them both into a more comfortable position, “would you prefer a story or a song?”
“A song, please. Could you—I mean can I make a request?”
“Anything, Ciri, as long as I know it,” he replied, stroking his fingers through her long hair.
Ciri took in a shaky breath and moved so Jaskier could see her face. “My grandma used to sing me a song when I was a child when I had trouble sleeping. It goes something like this.”
Jaskier listened as she sang part of a chorus that he knew very well and smiled. “Yes, darling, I know that one quite well. I’ll sing it until you go to sleep.”
Ciri sniffled and leaned her head against his shoulder. “Thanks, Jask.”
“Anything, princess.”
With that Jaskier began to softly sing a tune that he knew very well. A song that Pavetta had loved when she’d been alive.
Someday we’ll all be gone,
But lullabies go on and on
They never die
That’s how you and I will be
Jaskier shuddered as he sang those last words, and let the deep even breathing of Ciri bring him peace. With a smile, he lowered her down onto the bed and pressed a parting kiss to her brow.
Before he could leave, he felt a small hand grasp at his wrist. Turning back he saw Ciri frowning with her eyes still closed.
“Don’t go.”
“Okay.”
Without another word, Jaskier shut off the light and climbed into the bed, letting Ciri curl up close.
Geralt would find the two of them curled up together the next morning, finally home from his shift. He’d smile, knowing that they would be alright.
Everything would be alright.
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Hey y'all! This is my first time posting for awhile, so I hope you enjoy. This is unbetad and thanks to @whataboutthebard for giving me inspiration!
Title: A Worthwhile Journey
Prompt: Seeing each other after a long time
Pairing: Jaskier/Geralt
Rating: General
Warnings: None
Geralt grimaced as the putrid smells of Oxenfurt greeted him.
There was a reason that he stayed away from cities. Their odor always bombarded his senses, making his head spin and ache in a way that it rarely did. The fact he even considered stepping foot in one showed the sway that Jaskier had over him.
Jaskier.
Geralt tugged slightly at Roach’s reins, urging her to move the slightest bit faster as he navigated their way through the throngs of people. Though she huffed and tugged against his hold, she upped her pace. She must have felt his desperation to get to their destination to behave that well.
As they slowly approached the gates to the university, Geralt smiled softly, knowing that his bard would be waiting for him behind those gates.
His bard. His.
Jaskier had been several things to him through the years. At first he was just a nuisance, a whelp of a boy, yipping at his heels and constantly bringing trouble and a symphony of noises wherever he went. Although the noise and the trouble never diminished, it only took a few months for Geralt to see him as a staple in his life. Jaskier would help him in ways the witcher had never even realized he needed; stitching his wounds, washing his hair, and providing him with smiles as easily as breathing. Truthfully, Geralt had considered Jaskier a travel companion and a friend long before he admitted it to the other man.
As time passed, he began to see the bard as something more. He was no longer a child wet behind the ears, but a grown man. The day Jaskier had taken off his shirt to bathe in the Pontar and had shown not a smooth chest, but one covered in wiry, copper hairs, Geralt had not known what to do. It was as if Jaskier had transformed in a single moment, and from then on Geralt couldn’t stop thinking about it.
Geralt had known Jaskier was an attractive man, but he had ignored the bard’s come ons for years. After that moment, it became harder to do so.
They’d known each other for fifteen years now, and Geralt was still unsure what Jaskier now meant to him. Yes, he was still an annoying bard and the best travel companion and friend that he knew, but he was also more. Witchers had no feelings, or at least that was what humans said, and Geralt wished it were so. If he was truly the emotionless beast people believed him to be, then his heart wouldn’t twist so painfully when he and the bard parted ways for the winter.
He also wouldn’t be braving the sounds and smells of Oxenfurt.
As Geralt entered the gates of the university, heading towards the stables, he stopped and listened. Through an arch to his left, a melodious voice poured forth and the familiar strums of a lute. He knew that voice. He would know that voice anywhere.
Without a second thought, he guided Roach towards the noise, helplessly following it like a fish on a hook until he saw him. As expected, Jaskier was sitting in a small garden, strumming on his lute and singing something Geralt did not recognize. It must have been a new composition from the winter months. However, Jaskier was not alone. Instead, he had a group of young men and women watching him in awe as they scribbled frantically in their notebooks.
All too soon the music stopped, Jaskier gently laying his lute back in its case before turning around to address the crowd. “Now as you can see, the second song I played was far different from the first. Can anyone tell me why?”
A young, blonde man raised his hand timidly and quietly said, “The tempo was different.”
Jaskier nodded slowly, but Geralt was well-versed in the bard’s expressions. That was the face Jaskier used when he wanted to let someone down gently.
Of course he was right. Jaskier finally said, “Yes, but it’s something more important than that, Michal. Anyone else?” When none of his students volunteered, he sighed and said, “Very well. The big difference was the emotion behind it. Both songs shared the same key and chord structure, but one was more compelling, am I right?”
All of the student’s nodded as one and Jaskier smiled. “Yes, one was more compelling because it dealt with deep emotions. The first song, composed by myself nearly a decade ago, is a dainty ballad about a sunny day in a field of flowers. Nice, fun to sing and listen to, but truly a bit dull. The other ballad is also about spending a day in a field of flowers, but it focuses on the man laying in the field and how he is longing for someone. A friend, a lover, the audience doesn’t know, but everyone can understand longing for something. That is why the song is more potent.”
At that moment, Jaskier looked up and saw him, his blue eyes widening in delight before he turned to his class. “Right, class is dismissed for the day. Don’t forget, your final compositions are due next Friday, and they must be performed. Make sure to practice!”
As the students quickly packed up their things and left the small garden, Jaskier bounded over towards him, a wide grin on his face. “Geralt! My darling witcher, you’re early! I still have classes until the end of next week.” Without a moment’s hesitation, the bard threw himself at Geralt, embracing him with a surprisingly tight hug.
Geralt gave himself a moment to lose himself in Jaskier. The almond lotion that he used on his hands and the chamomile scent he sprayed on his clothes intermingled with the oil he used on his lute to create a smell that was uniquely Jaskier. The bard was wearing his ridiculous university robes, the ones he complained about with vigor whenever he was forced to wear them. Even through the endless folds of fabric, Geralt could feel Jaskier’s surprisingly strong body pressing against him. With that thought, Geralt pulled back before his mind could wander to more inappropriate places.
“Snow melted early. Decided to make my way here.” Or he had left earlier than advisable to find Jaskier, but the less the bard knew of his desperation, the better.
“Ah, well you can stay with me. I have a guest room in my lodging. Besides, that way I can tell you about how Valdo fucking Marx tried to steal yet another one of my poems, the thieving hag—”
Geralt smiled, following after Jaskier as the younger man railed against his colleague, finally realizing two truths: he loved Jaskier and yes, the journey to find his bard was worth it. If Jaskier was at the end, it would always be worth it.
Hello darling wife, I come to your inbox to beg of you some words. Geralt notices a scar on Jaskier’s face, close to his mouth, and can’t stop staring. Please and thank you🥺❤️
Hello wife!! I've finally gotten to your ask. I would also like to thank all my followers because I've hit my 100 follower mark! Thank you for reading my content. Send me an ask if you have any prompt requests :)
Title: We All Got Scars
Pairing: Geraskier
Tags: Some Self-Esteem Issues and they are Hungover
Word Count: 2K
Geralt groaned as his eyes opened and he took stock of his surroundings. He was in his room. Normally that wouldn’t be surprising, but he couldn’t recall how he had gotten there.
Last night was a technicolor blur of tequila and Jaskier. Geralt took a moment to try and recall what time he’d gotten home, but it was all a blank. Damn Yennefer and her parties. He was getting too old for this shit.
Another twitch of his body brought forth a wave of nausea and pain. Coffee. He needed coffee.
Drawn out from under the covers by the promise of caffeine and Advil, he blearily stumbled towards the kitchen, solely relying on his muscle memory to make it there. As he turned the corner, Geralt was surprised to find Jaskier half-sprawled on their kitchen counter, watching the coffee machine with single-minded focus. Jaskier usually didn’t make it home after Yennefer’s parties, instead taking the opportunity to find a partner for the evening. To see him home this early was unheard of.
“Mornin’,” Jaskier mumbled into his arms as he continued to stare at the coffee maker.
“Hmmm.”
Jaskier chuckled, the motion causing the younger man to wince and look up at him. “Ditto, Geralt. When did we make it home?”
“Fuck if I know.”
At that moment the Jaskier perked up and grabbed the coffee pot off the hot plate with a triumphant expression. He looked obviously hungover with the dark circles under his eyes, greasy hair, and the scar on the corner of his lip—wait, what?
Geralt blinked and stared, transfixed by the small mark located near the top curve of his roommate’s lip. It was small, barely noticeable unless someone were looking intently at Jaskier, but that was the thing. Geralt always looked at Jaskier. He’d been entranced by the younger man since the moment they had met, and Geralt would have noticed a scar on Jaskier’s face before now. It must be new.
Geralt and Jaskier had parted ways during their summer holidays. Geralt had taken the chance to work at the family business to recoup his finances while Jaskier had been hired at a summer stock theatre far away from their university. They’d texted one another often, and Geralt received the occasional Facetime, but those interactions couldn’t compare with living together in an apartment. Something must have happened during those few months.
“Earth to Geralt!”
His attention was pulled back to Jaskier as the younger man snapped his fingers to catch his notice. Geralt winced, the small, repetitive noises feeling like a person using his head as a drum. He was never drinking again.
With a snarl he finally acknowledged Jaskier. “What?”
“I’ve asked you how many eggs you want five times. I know it’s usually three after a night out, but I wanted to check and what does my generosity get me?! An absolute disregard of my existence.”
Geralt watched as Jaskier prattled in an increasingly ridiculous manner while he continued to make scrambled eggs. He was too hungover to understand what the other man was saying—truthfully, he had trouble keeping up with Jaskier normally, but his concentration was being further broken by that little blemish on his lip. How hadn’t he noticed it before?
His legs moved of their own volition and three strides later he was standing beside him. Jaskier had yet to notice his shift in position, still going on his rant, but that could wait. This was far more important.
Using all the tenderness he possessed, he gently placed his hand on Jaskier’s jaw and slowly brought Jaskier’s gaze to meet his own. Jaskier finally paused midword, his mouth hanging open for a moment before he tilted his head.
“Geralt, what—?”
“What happened?”
Before Jaskier could ask for clarification, Geralt swiped his thumb along the scar, savoring the warmth of Jaskier’s skin. It was so soft, even the small ridge where the old wound did not blend in with its surroundings. He’d known Jaskier’s skin was soft. They’d brushed against each other several times while they’d lived together. It was bound to happen when living in an apartment the size of a shoe box. Between that and Jaskier’s tactile nature, Geralt had felt the smoothness of his roommate’s skin before, but not like this.
Suddenly realizing that his touch has lingered too long, Geralt tears away his hand, noting that his hand felt colder than ever after taking it away from Jaskier’s warmth. He shouldn’t have given into the temptation of touching Jaskier like that. Now he would know what he was missing.
Tearing his gaze away from the scar, Geralt realized that Jaskier was uncharacteristically silent. The younger man hadn’t said a word, his own hand trailing towards his lips and ghosting over the scar. Geralt watched in confusion as Jaskier’s eyebrows drew together before his lips formed a perfect O-shape.
“Oh. That.”
Jaskier blushed and turned back towards the eggs, throwing himself into the job of keeping them unburned and edible. Geralt watched him intently, knowing that Jaskier would eventually say something more. The man always had something to say.
Geralt was right. Jaskier soon sighed, something Geralt knew signalled that Jaskier was preparing to speak, but something wasn’t right. Jaskier’s shoulders were hunching inwards, as though he were trying to make himself look smaller, and his usual sunny smile was dimmed by something more than the hangover plaguing them both. All of this pointed to one truth: something was wrong.
“Just a small scar from childhood. Got it from falling off the jungle gym at school.”
Geralt furrowed his brows, trying to move Jaskier’s face towards him once more, but this time he found resistance. With a sigh of defeat, Geralt replied, “I’ve never seen it before.”
Jaskier nodded, his eyes staring intently at the eggs. “I usually cover it up. Forgot to do it this morning. Must be more hungover than I thought.” Jaskier smiled, but it appeared more like a grimace.
This was wrong. Jaskier was never embarrassed about his body. He walked around the apartment in little to no clothing and the walls were thin enough that Geralt knew he had his fair share of partners, but—
Well, now that he thought about it, Jaskier spent a lot of time in front of the mirror every morning. He would primp and preen, ensuring that not a single-hair could be found out of place. Sometimes Jaskier would say no to pizza with their friends, saying that he should really order a salad instead and god forbid he had a pimple! He’d once cancelled a date because he had a zit on his forehead.
Maybe it wasn’t such a surprise that Jaskier would be this worked up over a tiny facial scar.
He was drawn out of his thoughts by Jaskier’s sharp snort of laughter. “I know it’s not a pretty sight, trust me. Doesn’t suit me at all, not like your scars. If only!”
Geralt watched as Jaskier used the spatula to move the eggs around the pan. He was still trying to understand what Jaskier was talking about when his roommate kept going.
“I’ve been covering it up since I got it. My mother hated it, always said it was a shame that I’d ruined my pretty face so young and it is a shame because I need my face for my career. I can’t believe I’ve gotten so sloppy, but don’t worry about it, you won’t be seeing it again—”
Those last words drew Geralt out of his shock and thrust him back into action. “That’s bullshit.”
“What?” Geralt flinched at Jaskier’s hurt tone and the confusion shining in his eyes, and it takes a moment for him to understand why.
“No, no, not the part about me not seeing it again. Everything else. You’re beautiful, Jaskier.” Geralt trailed off as he spoke those three words, his friend’s name coming out as a whisper.
There was a moment of silence as both men stared at one another, each waiting for the other to make their move. When Jaskier stayed uncharacteristically silent, Geralt continued.
“You are. Anyone would tell you that, and a small little scar won’t change that. I’m just glad it isn’t new.” Geralt looked up into Jaskier’s eyes to find confusion, so he continued. “I thought you’d gotten it over the summer while I wasn’t there to protect you.” He gently brushed his thumb over the small blemish, his skin burning once more where he touched Jaskier. He was like a moth drawn to a flame, and he knew he’d never forget the feel of Jaskier’s skin against his own.
Jaskier smiled, his blue eyes filling with tears as he placed his hand over Geralt’s, clasping them together against his cheek. “Oh you sweet, sweet man. I’m sorry I scared you.”
“Your response scared me more, Jask,” he replied, his eyes continuing to dart down towards his lips. “You are beautiful. You don’t need to cover this up.”
“But—”
“No,” Geralt said, cutting off whatever ridiculous comeback danced on his silver-tongue. “You’re handsome and smart and—fuck, I’m sorry, I don’t have the words. I’m not a poet like you are, but you shouldn’t feel ashamed of such a tiny thing when you’re so much more.”
There was silence as Jaskier took in the words he’d said. He hoped they’d come out right. Although he was no poet, he would always try for Jaskier.
“But—”
Geralt rolled his eyes and leaned in closer, pressing his lips against Jaskier’s. He felt the small gasp of shock against his lips, but it was soon replaced by an eager tongue and a wicked smile. It was everything he’d dreamed it would be, except—
Geralt pulled away, the reality of what he’d done sinking in. He’d kissed Jaskier. He’d kissed him and Jaskier had kissed him back, but what if it had been a mistake? What if Jaskier hadn’t wanted to kiss him? Shit, he’d held back his feelings for years and this was what destroyed everything? He’d have to start apartment hunting and apologize—well he could do that last bit now.
“Sorry,” Geralt murmured as he tried to pull away, but he found himself tugged back with a familiar pair of lips pressing hungrily against his lips.
This kiss was quick compared to the first and Jaskier soon broke away, breathing heavily as he looked into Geralt’s eyes. “Don’t apologize. I’ve been waiting for that for years.”
Geralt blinked, momentarily unable to deal with the fact that Jaskier had loved him back for years. They could’ve been doing that for years, but Geralt had more pressing matters to deal with.
He traced the length of Jaskier’s cheekbones, his nose, his lips, ending with the small scar that had started this conversation.
“They’re not ugly. You’re pretty.”
Geralt watched as Jaskier’s eyes softened. A smile worked its way onto his face as the singer replied, “You really think so?”
“I know so.”
Jaskier opened his mouth, but before he could speak Geralt saw him sniff the air, confusion flooding his face.
“Shit, the eggs!” Without another word, Jaskier bolted towards the stove and pulled the smoking pan off the hob.
Geralt watched as Jaskier fanned away smoke and frantically opened windows, letting those kisses play through his mind. They were perfect. Everything he’d dreamed of, notwithstanding the burned eggs. It wouldn’t have been a moment with Jaskier without one of his idiosyncrasies making things interesting.
For now, he had to make sure the fire alarms wouldn’t go off and make their hangovers worse. They’d have time to talk later.
Happy belated birthday @lesbianspritzee! I know you love Eskel, so I hope you enjoy your fic :) This is also a submission for the @softtummysupport Soft Tummy Season, for the Library prompt. Enjoy!
CW: Body Image Issues and Eskel's shit self-esteem
Beta'd by @sulkyshengshou
Summary: It's winter in Kaer Morhen and the three men are reunited for the first time after falling into each other's beds the previous winter. Eskel has a self-worth crisis and the boys cuddle him by the fire
Eskel sighed as he settled back into the ancient armchair, opened his book, and tried to lose himself in the story. It was one he had read several times in his long life; the book’s worn pages were a testament to the amount of times he had flipped through its pages. He’d taken it out, hoping that it’s familiar weight and words would distract him.
He’d been wrong.
Geralt and Jaskier hadn’t arrived yet.
With a growl, Eskel placed the book roughly on the table beside him and massaged his temples. His two lovers usually showed up at the keep earlier in the season, with Jaskier’s infectious smile and Geralt’s relaxation warming the space more than its many fireplaces.
This year was proving to be different.
As the snow raged outside, Eskel resigned himself to a lonely winter with only Vesemir as his company. Lambert had also not shown up, presumably to spend time with Aiden. It was fine. He’d make it through.
At that moment, Eskel heard the large, heavy wooden doors of the keep blast open. With one last look around the library, he stood up and headed to the Great Hall, presuming that the wind had blown open the doors again. Just another chore added to his endless list of duties to keep their crumbling home liveable.
But as he walked closer to the entrance, Eskel began to hear chatter and smell the familiar scents of onion and chamomile.
They were home.
Picking up his pace, Eskel slid into the room and took in his surroundings. Sure enough, two frost-covered figures stood in the middle of the hall —the much leaner one was shivering terribly and leaning against the other. Even obscured by a thick layer of ice he would recognize them anywhere.
“E-e-eskel,” Jaskier said, teeth chattering, “s-sorry we’re late. The st-storm caught us off guard.”
Eskel rolled his eyes and made his way over to his two lovers. “We need to get these clothes off you.”
“T-that excited to see me?” the bard shot back, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. It would’ve been a lovely and convincing sight if not for the slight blue tint to his lips.
“Jaskier,” Geralt scolded, as he tried to peel his own layers onto the floor. Although witchers were far more resistant to cold, Eskel knew that it could still be very uncomfortable..
“Can you blame me, Geralt?” Jaskier asked as Eskel started to unwrap him of his many layers. “I haven’t seen our beautiful lover in months! I’m a simple man!”
Eskel blushed, letting Geralt’s response of, “Simple?” and Jaskier’s gasp of outrage slip to the back of his consciousness. At least he knew the warmth was already helping the bard, if the verbal tear Geralt was receiving was anything to go by.
Beautiful. He’d never been called beautiful before.
This…thing between the three of them was new. It had only started the previous winter after a night of far too much White Gull. Before that, he and Geralt had slept with one another for years without putting any label on it. It was comforting, knowing that someone in the world knew him and cared for him, but it couldn’t be anything more than that. Eskel knew Geralt deserved better, and after his scars —well, it became even clearer that he could do better as well.
Then five winters past, Geralt had brought Jaskier to The Keep.
Jaskier was…he was amazing. A breath of fresh air for the ancient witcher’s of Kaer Morhen, the bard had waltzed into their lives and showed them care and loyalty. Not to mention that Eskel was convinced that Jaskier was one of the prettiest men to have walked the Continent. He and Geralt made a fine match, and Eskel had grown used to his bed growing cold as Jaskier and Geralt fell together time and time again.
Though the three of them had fallen together a few times since that drunken night, and Eskel privately called them his lovers, they had never truly defined things. The bard had run fingers through his hair and praised his love making abilities —something at which he excelled, but did not always enjoy— and Geralt had snuggled close late at night, but it couldn’t be more than wanting to add spice to the bedroom.
Eskel knew who he was. He wasn’t courageous and brave like Geralt. He was a coward when it truly came down to it. Too afraid to say what needed to be said for fear of breaking apart the little happiness he’d gained.
He also knew that he was not a looker.
Geralt and Jaskier were beautiful. Geralt commanded a room with his fine features and flowing hair, the broadness of his shoulders emphasizing the trim, but sturdy line of his waist. Even as a witcher, young people would look at him with lust, wishing to see what the great White Wolf had to offer.
Jaskier was a walking dream —big blue eyes and a sweet smile that hid a sharp tongue and even sharper wit. The bard had several lovers spread throughout the kingdoms —nobility and peasants, the bard was not one to discriminate— and his fair looks garnered looks of appreciation from everyone he passed. He knew it too, spending hours preening over his hair to make it fall just right.
Eskel, well, he wasn’t any of those things. Even disregarding the scars, his features were too broad to be considered beautiful. His body lacked the leanness that Geralt’s did, and though he was strong a stubborn pouch remained over his abdomen. How someone like Jaskier could think that he was beautiful baffled him, because it was a lie. He’d never been beautiful.
“Eskel?”
The witcher looked up to find both Jaskier and Geralt wearing significantly less clothing than before and staring at him with a worried gleam shared between them. Shit. He’d been brooding for longer than he’d thought.
“Darling, are you alright?” Jaskier asked, walking closer to place a slender hand upon his shoulder. Eskel shivered at the contact, idly trying to remember the last time someone had touched him like that. It might’ve been since he’d last seen Jaskier.
“I’m fine, Jask, I was just worried about you two.”
Jaskier nodded and leaned forward, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. “I’m sorry, darling, we got caught up on a contract up the mountain. Geralt was too much of a sweetheart to say no.”
Geralt grumbled and Eskel caught a tint of pink rising on his pale cheeks. Whoever said witchers couldn’t blush was a liar.
“What kind of contract?” Eskel asked, pulling Jaskier closer to him. Although the bard was far more talkative now, he was still cold as ice.
Eskel felt Jaskier’s laugh rumble against his chest. “You want to tell him, Geralt?”
There was silence for a moment as Geralt looked at the floor. With a sigh, he looked up from the floor and pinned a chair with a glare. “A little girl said that a monster had stolen her doll. She asked me to look for it.”
Eskel felt laughter bubbling up in his throat, but held it back unlike Jaskier who was giggling as he pressed up against him. “And what was your payment?” Jaskier pressed, a smile dancing on his lips.
“...Two biscuits and a hug.”
Eskel felt his heart warm at the story, imagining a small child presenting Geralt with his payment. Geralt had always been the best of them.
“Eskel, you should’ve seen it! It was adorable,” Jaskier babbled, even as another deep shudder wracked his body. He needed to get closer to the fire.
With a jerk of his head, Eskel started leading Jaskier towards the library, hoping that Geralt would follow them. They would remove the clothes from the Great Hall once the bard had regained his warmth.
As they walked towards the library, Eskel let Jaskier’s melodious voice rush over him and smiled. The bard talked incessantly, but he loved it. Although some would find the constant noise grating, Eskel found it to be a balm against the loneliness that often plagued him.
Upon entering the room, Eskel let go of Jaskier, intending to find furs to place in front of the fire. Instead, he found a slight weight holding him back, clinging to his arm.
“Jask, I’m just going to find some blankets for us.” When all he received in response was a whine, he smiled and ran a hand through the bard’s wet hair. “Go to Geralt. He will keep you warm until I have everything set up.”
Another pitiful whine rose from the bard’s lips as he burrowed himself deeper into Eskel’s arms. “You’re warmer and far more comfortable,” he finally said, a pout visible on his lips.
Before he could answer, he heard Geralt chuckle behind him. “He is,” Geralt simply replied, before walking ahead and gathering the furs himself. Eskel watched, allowing himself to be grateful that his extra bulk could provide this comfort.
Soon enough, the furs were spread evenly on the floor, leaving more than enough room for the three of them to lay on them. Using the bard’s tight grip to his advantage, Eskel lifted up the bard without protest and gently lowered him onto the soft surface.
The moment the bard hit the floor, Jaskier’s arms lifted back towards Eskel. “Join us, Eskel. I’ve missed you terribly.”
How could he deny such a request?
Lowering himself to the floor, Eskel wrapped his body around Jaskier and soon felt the familiar weight of Geralt’s arms reaching out from behind. A part of him he didn’t realize existed relaxed, luxuriating in the feeling of the two people he cared for most surrounding him.
Minutes passed as they all fell silent, breathing slowly and taking in each other’s presence. Unsurprisingly, the calm was broken by Jaskier as he twisted around in Eskel’s arms to face him.
“I’m still cold,” the bard said, a cute pout reaching his pink lips.
“Hmmm, and what do you want me to do about that?” Eskel asked.
The bard’s tongue darted out as he sat there in deep thought. “Well, skin-to-skin contact is supposed to be the best way to warm up someone from the cold.”
Eskel froze as his doubts from earlier came rushing back. The weeks he had spent waiting for Geralt and Jaskier had been long and the stress had led to stress baking which had then led to stress eating. His stomach was much softer than usual, threatening to hang over his waistband with the next sweet he devoured. There was no way Jaskier —purveyor of all that was beautiful— would think that he was beautiful after seeing him now. Geralt would be too kind to say anything, but it wouldn’t be long before he started to question whether he was fit to be a witcher. Why would Geralt —the best of them all— want someone with such a lack of control?
His moment’s hesitation must have been too long, for Jaskier frowned and started to backtrack. “Of course, you don’t have to. I know it’s been a long year and if you’ve changed your mind—”
“No! No, nothing like that, Jask, it’s just…”
Eskel paused, weighing out the pros and cons. Perhaps Jaskier and Geralt hadn’t noticed. If he came up with another excuse, they could move past it!
But Eskel knew that would only prolong the inevitable. They would both eventually realize that Eskel was not good enough for either of them. It didn’t matter how soft he got or how hard he tried —in the end, they would leave him for something better.
Best to get it over with.
With a deep breath, Eskel fixed his gaze at the ceiling and began to speak. “I arrived weeks ago and I waited for you to arrive. With each passing day, I started to imagine the worst had happened. That a monster had finally bested you, or that you had gotten stuck on the mountain path….that you’d decided not to come after last year.”
A sharp gasp sounded from Jaskier’s direction, but Eskel ignored it and continued. “I started baking a lot to pass the time when I wasn’t rebuilding the keep or running drills. Unfortunately that had some consequences and…well, I know I’ve never been svelte like Geralt or the others, but…well, it’s not exactly pretty to look at and I know you like pretty things. That’s just something I can’t give you, so I’m sorry.”
Eskel swallowed and kept staring at the ceiling, wishing that the floor would just swallow him whole. It was for the best. This would give him the chance to heal and move on before he became too attached.
Who was he kidding? That time had come and passed ages ago.
He was brought back to the present when a lightly calloused hand placed itself on his cheek and gently maneuvered it to the side. “Eskel, please look at me.”
Eskel clenched his jaw, but did as he was asked. Although he’d only known Jaskier for a few years, he found himself unable to ignore his words, no matter how much his self-preservation begged him to.
He stiffly turned to look at the bard.
Jaskier looked at him with wet eyes full of compassion. Great, he’d made Jaskier cry. This was the worst break up ever.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered, using one of his rough hands to brush away a stray tear.
“You’re sorry?” Jaskier asked incredulously. “You have nothing to apologize for, Eskel. In fact, I think Geralt and I owe you an apology.”
An affirmative hum rang through his other ear as Geralt’s arms tightened around him.
“I don’t understand,” Eskel replied, confusion muddling his thoughts. What could they have to apologize for? They’ve done nothing wrong.
“Let me try to make you understand, okay?” Eskel nodded, leaving the space for the bard to plead his case.
“I’m sorry, because I apparently haven’t been clear. What we have between us isn’t just a fling, or me wanting something pretty —although you do fulfill that requirement darling. No, I speak for myself, and I believe Geralt as well, when I say that we are here because we want you because we think you are marvelous.”
Eskel gasped at the soft words, letting them rush over him like a stream soothing away the rough exterior of a rock. “You can’t mean that,” he muttered, forcing his eyes away from the earnest look on Jaskier’s face. He couldn’t.
“I do,” he replied simply, “I do, because you are perfect for us. I love every part of you, Eskel, and I’m sorry if that wasn’t made clear last winter, but I am lost on you. I-if you feel differently, that’s okay. I wouldn’t force you to be with us if you didn’t want to. Hell, if you decided one day that you want only Geralt, that’s okay too, but I need you to know that I want you because you are perfect for me.”
Geralt hummed into his ear and murmured, “I wish I could make a speech as nice as that one, but I can’t. Just know that what Jaskier says also rings true for me. You’re my first love, Eskel.”
Eskel stayed silent, letting the words run through his mind as he tried to make sense of them. They loved him. Him. No matter his deficiencies, they loved him. Despite the amount of times he let the words repeat, Eskel couldn’t believe them.
“Also,” the bard said, interrupting his thought process, “I love your body. I like your softness. You’re one of the strongest men I know, but you make for a much better pillow than Geralt. Cuddling with you was something I lamented missing all year.”
“Truly?” Eskel asked, a small flame of hope burning in his chest.
“Yes, he complained I was too bony to cuddle and would wax poetic about your stomach and arms for hours,” Geralt replied, his eye roll evident from his tone of voice.
“Yes, it was quite tragic, Eskel. I was cold and wanted a cuddle and you weren’t there. It was wanton cruelty at Destiny’s hands!”
Eskel snorted at the bard’s theatrics, but his humor soon melted away as Jaskier gently placed his hands at the edge of his shirt.
“I understand if you want to keep your shirt on, darling, but know that I would never be disgusted by you. Ever. Are we clear?”
Eskel nodded slowly, clenching his jaw as he gathered the courage to sit up, take off his shirt, and lay back down between his two lovers.
He waited silently for a response, but for once the bard did not speak. Instead, Eskel felt cold fingers brush along the softness of his stomach. Looking up, he found the bard smiling with contentment and he snuggled closer to him. “See?” he asked, sleep already tinging his voice.
“Yes, I see,” he responded as Geralt lowered himself onto Eskel’s stomach, utilizing it as a makeshift pillow.
Perhaps he had been wrong. Although he wasn’t beautiful to most of the world, the two men curled up beside him thought differently.
He could live with that.
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Hi y'all! Happy Hallowmonth! To celebrate my favorite time of year, I will be participating in the @thewitcherbog's Whumptober event! Keep posted for future fics during this spooky time! Hope you enjoy!
Prompt: "I thought you were dead!"
WC: 1.2K
Rating: Teen for Death and Blood mentions
Pairing: None, but Geraskier if you squint
Beta Read: @comfyswitcherblanketfort
Tags: Thought to be Major Character Death, Mentions of Blood, Cannon Typical Violence
Next Parts: 1, 2, 3, 4
A03 link here
Jaskier slumped over the table, placing his forehead on the sticky surface. He was gone. He’d have to accept it sooner or later.
The bard blinked away the tears stinging the corner of his eye, focusing what was left of his energy on holding back the flood of emotion. He’d spent the past day crying, the last thing he wanted was to start sobbing uncontrollably again. Taking a deep breath, he let Geralt’s words rush over him.
“Breath in and out. Try to focus on a single thing.”
Geralt had tried to teach him the art of meditation many times over the decades, but it had never stuck. Maybe it would now that he was gone.
Gone.
He couldn’t be…
Jaskier scowled and lifted his hand above his head, signalling another round to the young lady serving his table. Beer was a faster solution to his problem than meditation. At least the alcohol would make it easier to forget the look on Geralt’s face as he’d been thrown from the cliff. The shock in his eyes as the griffin retracted its sharp talons and left him falling into nothingness.
The beast had flown off, completely unaware of how it had completely destroyed Jaskier’s world with one simple act. He’d looked over the cliff, seen the roaring river and the sharp rocks far below and knew no one could survive that fall. Not even a witcher. With a heaviness he’d never felt before, he’d collected Roach and headed back to the inn. There hadn’t been anything else to collect.
As his server deposited another mug of ale onto the table he felt the tears he’d been fighting burst onto his face. With a nod of gratitude he took the ale and gulped at its contents.
He’d have to make arrangements. He’d have to tell Geralt’s family. Jaskier knew that Geralt went —had gone, he internally corrected himself— to winter with a few other witchers, but he didn’t know much more than that. He’d have to start searching for mentions of other witchers and hope—
His train of thought was disrupted as the door to the tavern burst open, causing everyone in the establishment to look up. Jaskier blinked, thinking that he’d finally fallen into madness, because this couldn’t be real. In the door stood Geralt. He was filthy, soaked to the bone, and looked exhausted, but it was without a doubt Geralt.
Jaskier unsteadily pushed himself to his feet and walked over towards the illusion. He couldn’t be here. He was gone. Gold eyes snapped towards him, watching as he walked towards the witcher as though in a trance. Those same eyes continued to follow his movements as he reached out to touch the familiar armor. Only when his hand landed on a solid form did he allow himself to believe the impossible. Geralt was alive.
“I thought you were dead,” Jaskier choked out, tears threatening to spill onto his cheeks once more.
Geralt’s eyes widened. “No. Passed out for a while. Possible concussion, but not dead.” He paused and looked over Jaskier’s form. “You weren’t there when I got back.”
Jaskier felt his lip trembling, but was cognizant of all the attention their reunion was gathering. They needed a bit more privacy. With a nod of his head, he gestured back to his table in the corner. A small part of him realized as he walked over that he’d chosen the table that Geralt would’ve chosen. That same part of him knew it wasn’t a coincidence.
Jaskier watched the witcher sit down, noting that he’d flinched with the small motion. “You’re hurt.”
“I fell off a cliff.”
Jaskier snorted and shook his head as he took a moment to look him over. Geralt was still damp, his silver hair clumped into small ropes as they tried to dry off. There were no visible wounds except bruises and a few cosmetic scratches that would heal within the day. Whatever was bothering Geralt lay underneath his armor. As much as he wished to tear those protective layers off, Jaskier knew he would have to wait until they got to their room.
Jaskier tore his gaze off Geralt to grab the waitresses attention. After ordering two helpings of supper, he turned back to Geralt.
“You’re drunk,” Geralt said, face still frozen in a neutral expression.
Jaskier snorted and wiped away a stray tear. “I thought I’d just watched you die, Geralt, I needed a little bit of assistance trying to erase that image from my mind.”
“I’ve survived worse, Jaskier.”
“You fell off a cliff!” he exclaimed, eyes wide with exasperation. Of course Geralt would consider a tumble off a cliff to be nothing.
“There was water below, I was fine!”
Jaskier took that moment to poke Geralt in the side and felt a small sense of victory when the witcher grimaced.
“Fine people don’t flinch in pain when they get lightly jabbed in the side!”
“‘Lightly jabbed’ is an oxymoron.”
If Jaskier weren’t so agitated by nonchalant demeanor, he would’ve been impressed by Geralt’s use of words. Maybe he did listen while he prattled on about grammar and turns of language.
“Geralt, that was a bad fall, even for you—”
“I know!” Geralt gritted out, getting dangerously close to shouting. After nervously glancing around the room, Geralt leaned closer. Close enough that Jaskier could hear Geralt’s breathing, something he’d never thought he’d hear again.
“I know,” he repeated softly. “When I came back to fight the Griffin you weren’t there. I couldn’t find Roach. I thought—”
Jaskier watched as Geralt’s face contorted into the most pained expression he’d seen on the witcher. Without a second thought, Jaskier took the larger hand in his own and rubbed his thumb along the rough calluses of Geralt’s palm. The small motion worked, Jaskier watching as the furrows in Geralt’s face smoothed with each pass of his thumb.
“I thought the griffin had killed you both. I thought I was too late.”
A gasp escaped his lips, imagining the terror Geralt had felt at that moment. “Geralt, I’m so sorry—”
“You did nothing wrong. You were right to leave the area, it was too dangerous.” Even as the words left his mouth, Jaskier could see that Geralt was simultaneously trying to convince himself of the same thing.
“I’m sorry I scared you,” Jaskier murmured.
“I can say the same,” Geralt responded.
There was a moment of silence that was only broken by their meals being brought to the table. After thanking their waitress, Jaskier turned towards Geralt who was staring at his stew as though it held all the answers in the world.
“How did you know I wasn’t dead?”
“No blood trail. If it had gotten you there would’ve been a body.” Jaskier saw the slight shudder that ran through Geralt’s body at the words. It was slight, but it was there. “I followed your scent back to town. By then I assumed you were both okay.”
Jaskier nodded, picking off bits of bread and putting them into the stew. It was easier to focus on that than the terrifying day they’d both had. “I’ll stay next time.”
“No! Like I said, you did the right thing.”
Jaskier nodded and took a bite of stew, mulling over Geralt’s words. Odds were that this would happen again. They both led dangerous lives, but the thought of this happening again turned the stew in his mouth sour.
Geralt squeezed his hand, once again grabbing his attention. He hadn’t realized he’d still been holding Geralt’s hand. He wished they did things like this more often, but he couldn’t tell the witcher that. It would ruin everything.
“...I’m glad you’re okay.”
Jaskier smiled at the simple words and truly smiled for the first time since he’d thought his world had ended.
“I’m glad you’re okay too.”
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Hi everyone! This is for my wife Cheese's 24 hour Flash Fic Challenge. The fic is based off this post. Thanks @deeplywornletters for betaing! I hope you enjoy!
Summary: Jaskier realizes one day that he's been dating his best friend Geralt without realizing. Should he tell him?
Tags: Body image and self-esteem issues (but there is comfort and praise), modern AU during COVID times
That simple question circled through Jaskier’s mind as he paced around his small apartment. It was so blindingly obvious thinking back on it. How hadn’t he noticed that he was dating his best friend?
Jaskier dragged a hand down his face and sat himself in front of his laptop for the fifth time in ten minutes. The screen still showed his half formulated Reddit post for advice, but the more he thought on it the more he came to realize that no one could help this level of stupidity.
The cursor continued to blink on the screen, seemingly mocking his obliviousness. He was a poet for fuckssake! Romance was supposed to be his thing!
Well, he was sure that Priscilla would say differently.
Priscilla. What an utter prick. This all started with her.
They’d been together since the start of college. Nearly five years together. Everyone, Jaskier included, had thought that they would get married, which had made finding Priscilla in their bed getting fucked by another man quite the shock. There had been cruel words thrown out by both parties and splitting up of furniture, and suddenly Jaskier had felt the need to escape.
He’d moved. Not just out of the apartment, but out of the state. New city, new him. At least that had been the plan before a fucking pandemic shut down the world. It was hard to find work as a musician and actor when all the theaters and bars were closed until further notice.
The first month he’d just sat on his couch eating chips and panicking over the unknown. Things were terrifying and watching the news just made things worse. It had stayed that way until the second month when he found an online tutoring program that would help to pay the bills. But the third month was the most important. That was when he met Geralt.
It had been an ordinary day. He’d just finished his zoom classes and was preparing to get his anxiety medicine from the pharmacy. For a moment he had considered putting on something other than his sweats, but then he remembered he had nothing else. After a few months of that combined with a post-break up slump, he found that none of his jeans fit anymore. With a shrug, he put on his jacket, grabbed a mask, and headed out the door.
They’d met that day on the line for the pharmacy. Geralt was quiet, the shy type, and built in a way Jaskier had never been, even before his break up. They soon found out that they worked for the same service, Jaskier specializing in music and Geralt in chemistry. Jaskier had left the line feeling that he’d finally made a new friend.
Soon after they had started to text everyday, eating lunch at one another’s place. It was nice to have someone to lean on, especially in this brand new place. Normally, Jaskier would’ve made friends with people in the area, but between the social isolation and the lingering pain of Priscilla’s betrayal he hadn’t been trying. Geralt had been kind enough to introduce him to his own friends. Although they were an odd group, they were welcoming and Jaskier had felt happy for the first time in nearly a year. With Geralt it was easy. They just understood one another. Being in his presence was never stressful or overwhelming. The older man was more like a balm on his soul, something he hadn’t known he needed until he had it.
All that said, it wasn’t until yesterday that he’d realized that he’d been dating him. He’d received a text from Geralt a few days earlier asking if they could do a dinner with just the two of them. He’d replied of course! It wasn’t unusual for them to dine by themselves, given the pandemic and that they were the only two of their friends that were single.
Then they’d gone out to dinner. Jaskier had put on his nicest pair of jeans, something Yennefer had insisted he buy because she wouldn’t be seen in public with a man wearing sweatpants. He felt he’d need them because Geralt was taking them to a nice place out of town. He’d taken a look in the mirror and thanked God that he wasn’t trying to impress anyone because he knew that he’d looked better. Priscilla had used to tell him how handsome he was. Maybe she had been right to get out while she could.
Then Geralt had insisted on driving, paying, and walking him to his door.
He’d cleared his throat and said, "I had a good time tonight.”
That had been strange, but honestly he’d just been glad that Geralt had been opening up. The man was seriously emotionally constipated. To be fair, he had no room to judge, not after how unaware he’d been of the situation.
Now he was sat at his computer, halfway to a panic attack because he was dating his best friend. Not only were they dating, but he actually liked Geralt. Liked-liked Geralt. He hadn’t felt this way about someone since Priscilla.
He’d never questioned his sexuality before this. He’d grown up in a pretty conservative part of Long Island with rich, conservative parents who never brought up the subject. Not that they were bigoted. Oh they were fine with people loving whoever they loved… that just didn’t extend to their son. Perhaps it did, but it was never something that they’d discussed. He hadn’t known it was something he needed to think about, because he had met Priscilla the first week of university and hadn’t thought of anyone else until she cheated on him.
Looking back it was obvious that he was in love with Geralt. Had been from the moment he’d clapped eyes on the gorgeous bastard. He just hadn’t identified it as romantic love. Instead, he’d chalked up their connection to a strong friendship. How could he have been so blind?
Clearing his mind, he took the next few minutes to type up his thoughts on Reddit and press submit. Maybe other opinions would help him to sort out his situation. He’d only known Geralt for a year. It was too fast for him to fall in love, wasn’t it? Either way, he needed to figure out whether it would be best to tell Geralt the truth. How would he react to knowing that Jaskier hadn’t known they were dating?
Jaskier took a deep breath and waited for the internet to deliberate. Until then he would stress bake some cookies to pass the time.
The internet was shit help. Although his post had gained massive recognition, no one was able to give him advice on how to handle the situation. Most people had wished him luck, but their well-wishes meant nothing if he couldn’t figure out what to do!
Jaskier puttered around his apartment, straightening the throw pillows on his couch as he waited for Geralt to arrive for their traditional Sunday movie night. Now that he knew it was a date he felt more nervous than ever. He’d spent nearly an hour just trying on all the clothes in his wardrobe, even the ones that he knew wouldn’t fit, just to find the right outfit for the night.
He sighed, going back to his bedroom to look at himself in the floor length mirror he’d bought at IKEA. He looked exactly like he knew he would. The same as how he’d looked an hour ago.
With a disappointed frown, he tugged at the edges of his sweater, fiddling with the bottom as if that would magically make him look like he used to. Why would Geralt even want him? He was an anxious disaster on his good days and he wasn’t even nice to look at anymore. Why would an Adonis downgrade for him? Maybe he was imagining it. There was no way that Geralt was actually interested—
He was dragged out of his thoughts by a familiar knock on the door. He was here.
Taking one last look in the mirror, he ran to the door, ran a hand through his hair and turned the knob.
Geralt looked beautiful. Well, he always looked fantastic, the absolute bastard. Even Jaskier had noticed that. He was wearing his signature black skinny jeans and a black henley that clung in all the right places. Fuck, Geralt was so out of his league, but then again he could be wr—
“Hello,” Geralt rumbled with a sweet smile on his face. Without another word he pressed a soft kiss onto Jaskier’s cheek.
Shit, he wasn’t wrong. He wasn’t sure whether he should be jumping in glee or fucking terrified. He’d settle for blushing a light shade of crimson.
Geralt smiled and tilted his head in confusion. “Was that okay? I should’ve asked.”
“No, no, that was lovely. Just took me a bit by surprise is all.”
Geralt squinted his eyes, looking at Jaskier as though he were a puzzle that needed solving, but after a few seconds he smiled again and took Jaskier’s hand in his own. “Sorry, Jas. I’m glad you liked it. Choose the movie?”
Jaskier blinked, still processing the fact that Geralt was holding his hand. He’d never noticed how large Geralt’s hands were before. They nearly enveloped his own in a warmth so comforting he never wanted to let go. He looked back up and found Geralt patiently waiting. Fuck, he’d asked a question, hadn’t he.
“I’m sorry, what?”
Geralt chuckled. “The movie. What did you choose this week?”
“Ah, yes the movie. I was thinking something classic. Pirates?”
That earned a rare smile, although it had been becoming more prevalent in the past few weeks. “I love Pirates. The first one?”
“Of course! It’s the best.”
They soon fell back into the easy territory of snarky conversation that had defined their friendship from the beginning. It felt easy, familiar... safe.
That changed the moment they sat down on the sofa. Instead of their usual carefully maintained distance, Geralt scooted over so his strong thigh was pressed in line with his own and carefully draped a muscled arm around his waist to bring him closer.
Jaskier immediately froze, thinking back to the reflection that had greeted him minutes before. Geralt could feel it. Without making it too obvious, he tried to suck in his stomach. Maybe Geralt hadn’t noticed.
He caught Geralt frowning in the periphery of his vision, but quickly got up to grab the remote to start the film. Upon sitting down he took the opportunity to rearrange their sitting position so Geralt’s hand would rest on his bicep instead.
It worked for a little bit, but Geralt’s hand soon wandered back to its original position. Jaskier once again sucked in his stomach, hoping that he could keep it up for a two hour film. Luckily he didn’t have to.
Only a few minutes into the movie Geralt leaned over and grabbed the remote, pausing the film. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing!”
Geralt scowled. “Obviously something is wrong! You’re tense and barely speaking. You love talking through films even when it drives me crazy.” There was a pause where Jaskier tried to gather his wits, but Geralt sighed and shook his head. “Am I making you nervous? If I am, tell me. We can still just be friends, Jas.”
“What, no! Geralt, it’s not that.”
“Then what is it?”
Jaskier took a deep breath, trying to ground himself before diving in. He looked over at Geralt who was silently boring holes into his soul, pleading for an answer. He really hoped this wouldn’t be the end of their friendship.
“Ididntknowweweredating.”
“...What?”
Jaskier got off the couch and started to pace the length of the room as he spoke. “I didn’t know we were dating! I know it’ stupid, but I had absolutely no idea that we were seeing each other romantically! It wasn’t until yesterday that I realized you had been taking me on dates for the past few weeks, and I’m so sorry. I didn’t even know I was attracted to men until a few days ago, but I am, and I want you so fucking badly, but why would you want me? I’ve never been in a relationship with a man and my last one ended with the woman I was with for five years cheating on me, not to mention that I look terrible! I’m not even remotely attractive, I’m having a sexual awakening about a decade too late and now you’re going to leave—”
“Woah, woah, woah, Jas, calm down!”
Jaskier looked up and found Geralt standing in front of him with his eyebrows furrowed in concern. Shit, he’d ruined it. Of course he had, wasn’t that what he was best at. No one ever stayed too long.
“Come sit down at the island and I’ll make you some tea. While I make you tea, I’m going to try and understand what you meant, okay?”
“Okay,” Jaskier sniffled, allowing Geralt to shepherd him towards the kitchen seating. Once Geralt settled him in, the older man started rummaging through his cupboards, knowing exactly where to find everything. It was like he was meant to be there.
“Now,” Geralt said after finding all of the ingredients, “I am going to ask for some clarifications. I’m not great with words, so you’ll need to help me, okay?”
Jaskier nodded, waiting for Geralt to realize what a terrible person he was.
“Great. So you didn’t know we were dating?”
Jaskier’s lips trembled, trying to keep back the tears that were pricking the corner of eye. This was going to be hard.
“Y-Yes.”
There was a brief pause before Geralt burst into laughter. Jaskier blinked, alarmed at the response. He’d expected anger, hurt, maybe even shouting, but never laughter.
Geralt stood up again, the smile still on his face as he tried to speak. “S-Sorry, Jas. It’s just that I only asked you out because everyone told me you’d been flirting with me for months. I wouldn’t have worked up the courage otherwise.”
…Oh. That was interesting. Jaskier took a moment to think back on his friendship with Geralt and realized that their friends were right. He’d been unintentionally flirting with Geralt from day one. He was a natural flirt, but deep down he must’ve already known that he’d been attracted to the older man.
“I-I’m sorry, Geralt. I didn’t realize—”
“It’s alright, especially because the second clarification is that you do like me too?”
Jaskier paused but nodded. “Yes, yes I do. I like you a lot.”
He looked up shyly and found Geralt looking at him with a warm look on his face, holding out a cup of tea. Jaskier took it and sipped it gingerly. It was perfect. Of course it was, Geralt knew how he liked his tea. Geralt knew almost everything about him.
“Geralt, I like you so much, but I don’t know how to navigate this. I didn’t even know I was into men! I don’t want to lead you on because—” Jaskier swallowed away his fear, hoping the payoff would be worth it. “—Because you mean too much to me.”
There was silence in the kitchen. Geralt nodded his head and walked over to sit in the stool beside him. “I don’t really know what I’m doing either. I’ve never been in a relationship with a man before; I didn’t even realize I was into men until nearly two years ago.”
Jaskier gasped as Geralt took his free hand and soothed the skin with his thumb. “I’m just as in the dark about this as you are, Jas. I want to learn with you.”
Those words were the last blows to the dam holding back his tears. Before he knew it his face was crumbling and he was surrounded by Geralt’s strong arms. They were the only things keeping him together as he nearly fell apart.
He heard Geralt trying to soothe him and felt a pair of rough hands take his face into them. Looking up, he found Geralt’s face looking at him with warmth and love.
“One last question, Jas, and then we can go back to the couch and finish the movie or just cuddle. Is that alright?”
Jaskier nodded, suddenly too tired for words.
“Alright. Thank you. You said something that I can’t ignore for another moment and I need you to understand something important. You said that you weren’t attractive.”
Jaskier flinched and tried to look away but Geralt held him firmly, not letting him go when all he wanted to do was hide.
“I need you to know that you’re wrong. You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever met, inside and out. I don’t know where that bullshit came from, but I need you to know that you are perfect to me. Do you understand?”
Jaskier felt his lips trembling again, but refused to cry. Not again. “But—”
“No. No buts, Jas. I mean that. You’re beautiful. I love every part of you. I love that you’re always humming or singing or talking. You’re never quiet. You’re kind to everyone you meet and are always ridiculously positive when I can’t be. I’ve never seen you do something mean spirited to anyone. Not even spiders, Jas!” Jaskier chuckled at that, because it was true. He never had the heart to kill insects, even if they were scary.
“You’re also so intelligent. I’ve never met someone who I can talk to about anything. We can talk about Lord of the Rings and then switch to a conversation about global warming. You are so smart and always willing to learn more. And that doesn’t even start to cover your physical assets.”
Jaskier grimaced at that, letting his mind float back to what he’d seen in the mirror earlier, but he was soon pulled out of his thoughts by Geralt’s voice.
“Don’t make that face. I’m not a shallow man, but I have standards and you exceed them. I swear you are so fucking sexy, Jas. It’s been torture sitting on a couch with you for months and not being able to touch you. You look like a sexy lumberjack”
Jaskier snorted, breaking out of Geralt’s hold and crossing his arms around his stomach. He’d let his beard grow out during COVID and after his break up, so the lumberjack part of Geralt’s description wasn’t far off. “Yes, well, wouldn’t you like it better if I were less... doughy.”
Geralt frowned and shook his head. “That doesn’t matter to me, Jas. I like you, no matter the shape or size. Although, I have to say that your ass looks amazing right now.”
Jaskier smirked, feeling a tiny bit better. “Really?”
“Hmmm,” Geralt replied, with a glazed look in his eyes. “I will support you in whatever decisions you make about your body, but I need to make it clear that I think you’re the sexiest person I know. Understand?”
Jaskier frowned, thinking over his words. He wasn’t lying. Over the past year, Jaskier had learned Geralt’s tells and he could undoubtedly say that Geralt was telling the truth.
“I believe you. I don’t understand, but I believe you.”
Geralt took his hand and kissed it gently on the knuckles. “That’s a good start...I’d like to help you understand if you’d let me.”
A smile found its way onto Jaskier’s face as he leaned forward and caught Geralt’s lips in his own. It was a short kiss, not searing and desperate or passionate and deep, but it was absolutely perfect.
As they broke apart, Geralt laughed and scooped Jaskier into his arms, carrying him to the couch.
“Geralt!”
“Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”
Jaskier felt calm for the first time in months as Geralt laid him down on the sofa, soon after lying down beside him. They still had a lot to talk about, but that could wait. For now, he was happy where he was and he couldn’t wait to update his Reddit post in the morning.
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Hi y'all! This is my second submission for the @witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo! Thank you to @kuripon for beta-reading this fic. Stay tuned for some really last minute prompts!
Prompt: Love Before First Sight
Relationships: Jaskier /Eskel and Jaskier & Geralt
Rating: Teen (for sexual innuendos)
Content Warnings: Sexual innuendos, Eskel’s abyssmal self-esteem
Summary: The first time Eskel hears Geralt say Jaskier’s name, he knew it was important. It isn’t until years later that Eskel realizes that he’s fallen in love with a man he’s never met. What happens when they finally meet?
The first time he’d heard the bard’s name it was ingrained into his mind. It had been like any other winter’s night at Kaer Morhen. Geralt had arrived at the very last minute, covered head-to-toe in snow but looking hale. Lambert had heckled them both as Vesemir placed a hearty bowl of stew in front of each of them to chase away both the cold and the hunger.
“You’re looking less scrawny than usual, pretty boy. Pick up good jobs on the path?” Lambert asked with a spoonful of stew in his mouth.
Geralt grunted at the question, too focused on the stew in front of him to interact with Lambert’s prickliness, but Eskel was also curious. It was rare for any of them to return from the path in good health. Something must’ve happened.
“Lamb’s right Geralt. You’re looking hale. A good year?”
Geralt rolled his eyes in annoyance, but finally began to speak.
“I picked up something, alright.”
Before he could elaborate, Lambert groaned. “Of course you would be the only witcher to catch a venereal disease.”
Eskel nearly choked as Vesemir snorted into his drink. Geralt gave Lambert the dirtiest look before replying.
“You know that’s impossible, you prick.”
“Always a first, and with your predilection for mages I wouldn’t be surprised if you were cursed with one.”
Eskel was already moving to step between his two brothers at those callous words. “Ignore him. What did you mean, Geralt?”
Geralt sat back down, although his glare never left Lambert’s figure. “A bard. I met a bard and then he wouldn’t leave.”
Vesemir frowned and leaned towards Geralt, his displeasure carved on his face. “What does this bard want?”
Geralt shrugged and went back to shoveling stew down his throat. “Dunno. He just kept on following me. Said it was for inspiration.”
“Wait,” Eskel said as the gears in his head began to turn, “I heard a song along the path this year. Quite popular. Something about the White Wolf.”
Lambert perked up at the possibility of blackmail material. “Oh? I haven’t heard of it.”
Eskel grinned, watching as Geralt’s face grew more worried. Oh, his brother was right to be worried. Lambert would never let this go.
“Well come on! What’s it sound like?”
Eskel took a long swig of ale before launching into a hearty rendition of the song that had trailed him along the path throughout the autumn. He had heard it enough times to have it memorized. By the end Geralt’s face was red by witcher standards, Lambert was beaming like a child on their name day, and Vesemir looked chagrined. In other words, nothing out of the ordinary.
He ended the impromptu performance with a flourish, accompanied with applause from Lambert. Geralt grunted, refusing to make eye-contact with anyone at the table.
“Come on, brother! Did you like my performance?”
“That’s not how it happened.”
Eskel snorted and slung his arm around Geralt’s shoulders. “Oh I’m certain it isn’t, but that isn’t the point.”
Geralt finally looked up from his stew, his eyes ablaze with indignation. He might’ve pushed his brother too far, but sometimes his brother needed the push to loosen up. Otherwise, he would explode.
“The point is that this song has made things better for us on the path. Less people turned me away this fall. People tossed coins at me instead of rocks. This song is changing things, Geralt, don’t you see that?”
Silence fell through the hall, the other witchers intently watching the interaction with baited breath. Geralt finally broke the silence with uncharacteristic eloquence.
“They are lies, Eskel. How can anything good be built from lies? Jaskier is a nuisance at best and a liability at worst. He knows nothing of the world and hopefully will not darken my path come spring.”
As his brother spoke, Eskel watched him and knew that the words he spewed were bullshit. Geralt was just a coward who didn’t know how to react when kindness was offered. He just hoped that his brother would come to that realization before it was too late.
Eskel vowed to leave the topic alone for the rest of the winter, but if he perked up any time Geralt mentioned the bard over drinks, it was no one’s business.
As the years passed, Eskel thought of Geralt’s bard more than he cared to admit. Every winter, Geralt returned home and told stories of the enigmatic man that followed his path. Each winter Geralt’s smile would soften when he spoke of his companion and Eskel’s heart would clench. His brother loved the bard and that was okay. He had no reason to feel jealousy over a man he had never met.
But as the years passed, Eskel felt himself falling further in love with Jaskier. Every story Geralt conveyed as they passed around the White Gull made Eskel yearn in a way he’d never thought was possible. With these feelings came even worse doubts.
He’d never met this man, a man clearly devoted to his brother who was a better man than he’d ever be. Geralt was stronger, faster, and far more handsome than him. Geralt was the best of them and Jaskier deserved the best, not a broken, ugly, lump of a witcher.
So he buried his burgeoning feelings as deep as they would go. There was no need to entertain the impossible. The bard would never feel that way about someone like him, especially when compared to Geralt.
His plan had been working for nearly a decade when it all fell apart.
He’d nearly missed the window to make it home. The Killer had been nearly impassable, but as he rounded the last bend in that path, he smiled. He was home.
He made the final push towards the ancient gates, muttering soft promises of oats and rest to Scorpion. He saw a dark figure standing on top of the gateway so he waved. The doors quickly opened, allowing him to hustle inside the courtyard.
Lambert landed directly in front of him, engulfing him in a strong embrace. “Didn’t think you’d make it, ‘Skel.”
“I didn’t either. Got a final contract on the way that set me back a few days.” Lambert grunted in displeasure, an action that warmed Eskel’s heart. “Don’t worry, I’m here now.”
Lambert snorted and pulled away, putting his grouchy demeanor back into place. “I wasn’t worried about you. I was worried I’d have to deal with Geralt and his bard for the rest of the winter.”
Eskel froze. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, Geralt finally brought his bard this year.”
Eskel blinked, processing the unexpected turn of events. Jaskier was here. Jaskier was here! Fuck, he wasn’t ready for this.
Before he could respond, he heard two footsteps behind him. One tread was as familiar as his own, but the other was new. It was lighter and accompanied with the most intoxicating scent he’d ever encountered. A pair of arms turned him around and wrapped him in an embrace.
“Welcome home, ‘Skel.”
Eskel smiled, keeping his focus on Geralt. He knew Geralt. Geralt wasn’t the man of his dreams that he’d silently pined over for a decade. Geralt was safe.
“Hi Wolf. Good to see you.”
Eskel took the opportunity to inspect Geralt’s health. He seemed well-fed and healthy. There was a new scar near his hairline, but other than that, he seemed hale. Not a surprise considering Geralt had come home in one piece ever since he met Jaskier.
Jaskier.
He felt his eyes drift over towards the bard and his heart stopped.
He was beautiful. Over the years, Geralt had let slip tiny details about the bard. The color of his eyes, his handsome features that often got him in trouble, his fastidiously kept hair, but all the daydreams he’d had didn’t do Jaskier justice. He was undoubtedly the most beautiful man he’d ever met and he was currently staring at him with wide, blue eyes.
Geralt turned and smirked as he followed Eskel’s line of sight. “Eskel, this is Jaskier, my travel companion.”
The bard perked up at the sound of his name and stomped through the snow towards them. “Jaskier. I’m pleased to meet you. Geralt has told me a lot about you.”
Melitele, even his voice was lovely. He was screwed.
“I can say the same, although it is hard to get Geralt to talk much about anything."
Eskel ignored Geralt’s grunt of protest in favor of listening to the bard’s melodious laugh. He could listen to it forever.
“Yes, he’s not one for words, is he? Terrible to discuss poetry with him.”
“Eskel reads poetry.” Three heads turn simultaneously to look at Lambert who wore a shit eating grin on his face. “He loves it. Maybe you two should spend some time together.”
He was going to kill him. He didn’t care if Lambert was his brother. Lambert would have to die, because he knew. Somehow the bastard had figured it out and if the gleam in his eye was anything to go by, Lambert was going to be an absolute terror.
“Is that true?” Eskel turned back to find Jaskier looking at him inquisitively.
“Yeah, I like poetry.”
If Jaskier had looked beautiful before he became radiant in that moment. His eyes shone with excitement and the smile transformed his genial demeanor into that of pure joy. Eskel was fucked.
“Then we must discuss the poets of the 10th century! Their use of nature symbolism is superb!”
Eskel smiled as he listened to the bard ramble on about scansion and similes. He would have let him go on, but he noticed a small tremor starting to run through the bard’s body. It was too cold for pretty humans outside.
Eskel placed a hand on Jaskier’s shoulder, momentarily startled by how sturdy the bard felt beneath his fancy clothes, but soon regained his faculties. “I would love to spend time with you, but for now we should get you inside. You’re shivering.”
The bard blinked and stood still. Eskel quickly removed his hand. He’d almost forgotten who he was. He was a witcher. Not only a witcher, but a disfigured one at that. He’d have to be more careful not to spook the pretty bard. Geralt would never forgive him if Jaskier ran screaming at the first opportune moment.
Eskel cleared his throat and awkwardly nodded towards Scorpion. “I need to settle Scorpion for the night, but I’ll be in soon.”
Geralt nodded and patted him on the shoulder. “We will ask Vesemir to set out some stew for you.” Before he could make his escape, Geralt leaned over and whispered, “He likes you. Don’t overthink it.”
Eskel blinked and turned around suspiciously. He looked over at the bard and noticed that Jaskier was bright red and smelled strongly of arousal.
“Aren’t you together?” he quietly asked.
Geralt wrinkled his nose in distaste. “He’s not my type.”
Eskel turned around once more, this time with hope in his heart. If Geralt was telling the truth, maybe he did have a chance. “Are you certain?”
Geralt snorted. “You’re definitely his type, brother.” With a final smirk, he called over his shoulder, “Come on Jaskier, let’s go in.”
Jaskier shivered once more and waved. “I’ll see you inside. Save you a spot for dinner.”
Eskel watched Jaskier’s silhouette disappear into the one place he’d ever called home until the bard disappeared from sight.
A wolf whistle sounded from behind him and Eskel turned around, stunned to still find Lambert standing there. After the events of the last few minutes, he’d truly forgotten that he was still there.
“That was unexpected. You should go for it. He’s pretty.”
Eskel sighed and grabbed Scorpion’s reins. “ Fuck off, Lambert.”
Of course the pest didn’t listen to him, but gleefully followed him into the stables. “What gives, ‘Skel? Why aren’t you jumping on this opportunity? He’s exactly your type!”
Eskel scowled as he untacked Scorpion. She let out a happy snort as the saddle was taken off. Good, at least one of them was happy.
“He’s a bard. A pretty bard at that. Even if he isn’t in a relationship with Geralt, why would he want to be in one with me?”
“Because he thinks you’re hot! Did you not smell his reaction to you? He would’ve let you take him there and then.”
Eskel wrinkled his nose in disgust. “For fuck's sake, have you no dignity?”
“Nope,” Lambert replied cheerfully. At some point he had sat down on a barrel and had begun to swing his legs like a schoolboy. What a prick.
Eskel sighed and went back to focusing on Scorpion. “If I promise to think about it, will you leave me alone?”
“For now,” Lambert said, leaving a sense of foreboding as he left the stables.
Eskel rolled his eyes at his youngest brother’s antics and started to brush Scorpion down. It was true that Jaskier had smelled like desire after their conversation, but there were many reasons for that. He could have been reacting to Geralt or just poetry! Geralt had said the bard loved poetry!
There was just no way that Jaskier could feel the same way... unless—
Well, Jaskier was a strange man, there was no denying that. He followed a witcher along the path for nearly a decade, a long time in human years. He’d dealt with ridicule, dirt, and death during that time. Perhaps he wasn’t giving the bard enough credit.
With a final stroke, Eskel put down the brush and called it a night. Maybe dinner would put things into perspective. He’d already been half in love with the man for a decade. A few more weeks of confusion wouldn’t change anything. It would only give him the opportunity to know Jaskier better.
With his heart feeling lighter than it had in years, he walked towards the keep. He had a bard to woo.
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Hi y'all! This is my final submission for @thewitcherbog's team bingo event. The prompt was come back to bed. Thanks to @sulkyshengshou for beta reading this piece!
A03 link here
Geralt felt the tendrils of consciousness tugging at him as he groaned and rolled over. Without opening his eyes he could already tell that it was too damn early. There was no light to turn the insides of his eyelids orange. Instead, all he could see was pitch black.
With a sigh, he pulled one arm over himself, and tried to locate Jaskier in their bed. His eyes snapped open moments later when he realized that his husband wasn’t there.
Geralt frowned, displeased by the cold bed that greeted him. Jaskier had promised that he would follow him to bed soon after. He looked at the clock on their bedside table; Jaskier had said that four hours earlier.
Geralt braced himself for the cold air, tore off the covers, and set off to find his lover. If he was right —and he usually was about Jaskier’s sleeping habits— then Jaskier would be in his study. He had been muttering about finding the perfect phrase for his newest poem and if Geralt were a betting man, he would wager that Jaskier had lost track of time whilst ensconced in his world of words. It wouldn’t be the first time it had happened.
Just as expected, Geralt saw light flooding into the hallway from Jaskier’s study. With a sigh, he walked towards the room and lightly pushed open the door.
Jaskier looked up, having heard the signature creak of the door that he kept forgetting to fix. His husband was already dressed in his sweats from college and an oversized shirt that had once belonged to Geralt, but he was somehow still awake.
“Geralt, darling, what are you doing up?”
Geralt walked over to Jaskier’s seat and flung his arms around the younger man’s broad shoulders. “I woke up and you weren’t there.”
Jaskier took a hold of his hand, and kissed him on the knuckles before he spoke. “Did you have another nightmare?”
“No, just thought you’d be asleep since it’s three in the morning.”
Jaskier sighed, as he rana hand through his already mussed hair. He looked tired, black smudges had already lined his blue eyes, but he was still beautiful.
“I’m sorry, dearheart. I lost track of time, but I just can’t get this last—”
“Come back to bed.”
Jaskier turned around, a protest ready on his lips, but he stopped when Geralt yawned. His expression of frustration melted into that of affection.
“Fine. Let’s go to sleep.”
Thank fuck. Geralt thought that would have taken more convincing and he honestly didn’t have the energy for it at the moment. Instead, he grabbed Jaskier underneath the knees and shoulders, effectively holding him in a bridal carry.
Jaskier gasped, and flung his arms around Geralt’s neck to stabilize himself. “Geralt!”
He didn’t answer; instead he used the last of his energy to carry his husband to their bed.
“Go the fuck to sleep, Jas.”
Jaskier huffed in amusement. “How romantic.”
Geralt just shook his head, collapsed back into their bed, and pulled Jaskier flush to him. He smiled as Jaskier nuzzled into the crook of his neck, and his breaths quickly evened out into soft snores.
That was better. Things were as they should be.
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