#Geraskier fluff

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 97

Jaskier hums. All the time. It annoys Geralt at first, but then he starts realizing how useful it is. What song he hums tells you what Jaskier's feeling. He has a certain song he only hums when he's sad, a song he only hums when he's happy, a song he hums when he's impatient and antsy, a a song he hums when he's feeling nervous, a song he hums when he's tired, he has one for everything. Geralt's surprised he doesn't have a song to hum when he eats a meal he doesn't enjoy, but then one day Jaskier starts humming after they eat and fucking goddamn it he DOES have one, doesn't he?! He even has a song he hums whenever he thinks of Geralt. He'll start humming Toss a Coin whenever he thinks of him. Geralt loves whenever he hears Jaskier's happy humming and Toss a Coin start blending together.

[0dde11eth]

Jaskier: how do you like your coffee?

Geralt: with you

[eggcompany]

Jaskier and Mr.-Zero-Fucking-Body-Fat

Jaskier woke up in a mood. A bad kinda mood. A self hating mood. Thank goodness he has an awesome boyfriend.

Geralt was coming back to the apartment when Jaskier was getting up. Geralt had gone on a morning run and grabbed donuts on his way back. When he walked into the bedroom to get a shower he saw his boyfriend standing in front of their mirror. Shirtless and frowning as he grabbed at his stomach. Jaskier had been up for a little while now. He woke up in a mood.

He hadn’t gotten dressed yet. He was still wearing what he sleeps in, a pair of soft cotton short shorts. He just stood staring at himself.

“Fat. Ugly. Hairy. Gross. Gross. Bleh. Fat fat fat. Lose some weight. Undesirable. Disgusting. Cover up. Cover it. Don’t eat tod-“

“Hey baby, how about we get a shower?” Geralt said to try and pull Jaskier away from those intrusive thoughts. Geralt knew about Jaskier and his body image issues. Geralt came up behind his lover and wrapped his arms around Jaskier’s sternum.

Jaskier laid his head back onto Geralt’s shoulder and took a big breathe, clearing his head. He held it for a moment before breathing out.

“No thank you, dear. I’ll get a shower after you get out. You can eat breakfast while I wash up.” Jaskier removed Geralt’s hands. He just wanted to put in his sweatpants and his oversized hoodie and just not be seen. Especially not by Mister Zero-Fucking-Body-Fat.

“I’ll make you breakfast Jask. You can go back to bed if you’d like. We can have a lazy day.” Geralt said as he ran his hand down Jaskier back before he turned to the bathroom.

“Thank you, love.” Jaskier sighed. God that man will be the death of him. Jaskier grabbed his hoodie and his sweats and a clean pair of underwear. He heard Geralt start the shower.

A short while later Geralt came out with a towel around his hips and quickly put on his sweatpants and a black shirt that wasn’t too snug. He knew he should wear looser clothes when Jask was in these moods.

“You get a shower and I’ll bring you breakfast in here. If you want to you could queue something up?” Geralt kissed his boyfriends forehead before leaving.

Jaskier got to the bathroom and tried not to look in the mirror. He quickly took off his shorts and got in the shower.

He washed as quickly as he could so he could get covered back up. He didn’t even wash his hair.

Soon he was in his sweats and hoodie and back on bed queuing up a show on Netflix.

Geralt walked in with a tray of food. Nothing that would bother Jaskier. Mostly cut fruit and yogurt.

“Here. C’mere I wanna hold you. Love you so much. My pretty perfect loverboy.” Geralt said as he held his arms open for Jaskier to cuddle to him. Jaskier cracked a smile at ‘loverboy’.

“You sure you want me too...” Jaskier looked down at himself.

“Yes Jask come here. I always wanna hug and cuddle you” Jaskier nodded and laid his back against Geralt’s chest and sat between his legs, tray of food in his lap.

They started to play Evil on Netflix and Jaskier ate a bit of this and that, not nearly enough.

“Want me to feed you, baby bear?”

“What did you just call me?” Jaskier turned to see Geralt’s face.

“Baby Bear. ‘Cause your cuddly and perfect and you’re my precious baby bear.” Geralt said very matter of factly.

Jaskier blushed and nodded.

Geralt picked up a piece of banana and held it up for Jaskier.

That’s how the morning went. Geralt feeding his baby bear pieces of fruit and spoons of yogurt while Jaskier smiled and fell even more in love with his boyfriend.

[tonbane]

Geraskier 8 for the kiss prompt!

As my dear @panna-acida​ says, blowing a kiss is so Jaskier >:). I’ve never tried to draw them cartoony and it was so fun!!! Grazie cara mia :’)

[0dde11eth]

Person A: “You’re far too trusting, do you have any idea how easily I could kill you?”

Person B: “Of course dear, you tell me as much, quite often. I’m well aware of how dangerous you are.”

Person A: “…..Then why stay? Why show such vulnerability, knowing what you know?”

Person B: “Because no one has ever treated me with as much tenderness and respect as you do, and because I know you’ll never intentionally harm me. Whether you like it or not, I trust you.”

[tielmamon]

Geralt still hates parties, but most of the time its worth the trouble if he's with his bard 🥹❤️

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 130

In place of August Eighteenth, Promptapalooza 11/ Geralt sometimes teases Jaskier for his clothing, but he doesn't dislike Jaskier's clothes. He loves how his bard dresses, because it's what makes his bard happy. Jaskier isn't Jaskier without his bright colors, sequins, ribbons, and laces. And it's not like he isn't still beautiful in those clothes. Sometimes Jaskier picks out something that accentuates how gorgeous he is, something that brings out his eyes or fits nicely on his chest, so on and so forth. Sure, there are a few... odd... choices in his wardrobe, and sure not ALL of Geralt's comments are in jest, he does thing that one jacket is a disgrace to the fabric used to make it, but it's not like he'll burn it or anything. But what nobody knows, is that deep down, Geralt's favorite clothes to see his bard wear are his sleepclothes. His underthings. Not because of how it shows off his body, not because of the implications, no. Because of the trust. The comfort. The safety. When his bard is dressed in something loose and soft for sleep, his hair ruffled, and his makeup washed off. That's when Geralt loves to see him most. He just wants to bundle him up in a blanket and hold him close to him. He wants to kiss Jaskier's sleepy face and talk about how great he did that day. Thank you for staying with me, thank you for playing songs, thank you for loving me.

[0dde11eth]

[0dde11eth]

Awwww this is so sweet 🥺🥺🥺

need it rn

[eggcompany]

Julian, On My Knees Part1

Young, broke, omega Julian Pankratz, Jaskier, finds a place to live. Sharing a nice little flat in the good part of town with a fit older alpha who's daughter just moved out. The room is perfect, his own bathroom, and his flatmate is probably the most gentle yet stern, buff and beautiful, and sweetest smelling alpha he's ever encountered. It's just perfect

At least he thought so. Stupid thin walls, stupid heat brain.

“Hi! You must be Mister Rivia! I’m Julian Alfred but everyone calls me Jaskier. It’s wonderful to make your acquaintance.” The young man said quickly, in a chirpy way as his hand stuck out as soon as the front door swung open. His eyes squinted with how widely he smiled, the picture of happiness and joy. 

Geralt shook his hand, taking in the chipper man. 

He was nearly as tall as the older alpha, which was surprising but welcomed. He’d be able to reach all the shelves, Geralt thought as he took stock. The boy had messy brown hair and a round baby face. Soft pink cheeks, sparkling blue eyes, smooth summer sun tinted skin, clean and nice. So much more beautiful than his profile picture. 

Geralt nodded, turning to let the omega into the apartment, waving him in with a hand. 

“Hmm, this is the flat. Bathroom’s over there. I have my own so that’s yours. That’s my room, you can knock if you need anything, I work from home mostly. There’s a mini fridge in your room, it’s older but if you want it out, I can remove it. The living room, the kitchen, I prep my food so please don’t mess with my containers. I split it down the middle with electric tape to make it easier but it’s not a strict line.” Geralt explained as he walked the other man around the house, pointing at doors. He couldn’t help but glance at the wide smile on the omega’s face. 

He’d explained the apartment over text when the boy said he was interested. It didn’t take Geralt long to take the ad down and decide Julian Pankratz was the only applicant. He was young, only 22 years old, worked part time at a coffee shop and part time riding his bike around delivering food. He was an aspiring musician, liked staying in and watching movies, didn’t have many friends in the city, and most importantly, he was an unwed, unmated Omega. Someone who wouldn’t be bringing another alpha into the house at all hours of the night stinking up Geralt’s space. 

Geralt knew another alpha in the house would only cause trouble. Betas didn’t like all the rules about scenting in Geralt’s building, and most of the Omegas interested so far were 18 year olds who wanted someone to look after them once they left their parents house. 

Julian, Jaskier, was different. He’d said he wanted some freedom and space, just wanting one person to live with so he didn’t get lonely but would let him be his own person. Someone to have his back and talk to but wouldn’t smother him or try to parent him. Seemed like a good fit. 

Geralt smiled a bit, amused, when Jaskier’s eyes widened and explored the kitchen, opening the fridge and cabinets. He almost forgot what it was like to be around someone with enthusiasm about everyday things, a youthful bounce in their step. 

Jaskier couldn’t hold in his excitement. The space was big and open, cool grey flooring with a big rug in the living room and well loved black leather couch and matching recliner, the tv was huge, the kitchen was huge, the cabinets were spacious, the fridge was big and had a nice freezer, and it smelled amazing, like warmth and clean laundry and a little like leather shoes. It was so much bigger than what Jaskier was hoping for, and so much bigger than what it should be for the price they had agreed to. 

“Wow this is nice! I’m so excited! The last flat I was in had two bedrooms and I lived with seven people. I’ll make sure to pay rent on time and keep my space clean, sir. But um… can I ask you something about the room?” Jaskier asked as they made their way to the slightly ajar door. He stopped short of it, not reaching for the doorknob but standing patiently. 

Geralt waited a minute for the boy to continue but Jaskier was waiting for the Alpha’s permission. Geralt liked that, it was respectful and pet something ingrained in his mind. 

“Yes?” Geralt asked as he stood beside the door he’d freshly painted, a nice light nearly white. He watched the omega look down at the floor, cheeks turning a cherry color. They had discussed house rules, rules for the complex, rent payments, but not quite the details of the actual. Apart from the contents and size. 

“I'm an omega. I… have quite um veracious heats. Are the walls…?” Jaskier said in a timid way, embarrassment burning inside of him. He’d only told Mister Rivia that he was an omega, he’d felt it was inappropriate to talk about his heats and such over text. He wanted to make a good impression on the alpha, didn’t want him to think he was some floozy puppy looking for a mate and a free bed. He was a grown man, he wanted the alpha to see that. Even if he still had to ask about the ventilation and soundproofing. 

Geralt understood immediately though, having had the room remodeled after Cirilla had presented. He wasn’t shy about omegan issues, he had an omegan daughter, and had dealt with her issues. Not much scared him anymore. Nothing is more exhausting than a thirteen year old omega who wasn’t scared to leave the house in her pajamas, barefoot, to walk two miles to McDonalds if you didn’t wake up fast enough. 

Geralt wasn’t a blushing twenty year old alpha anymore, after all. He could handle having a screaming banshee in the house for a few days a month. 

“Yes, soundproof and insulated. You have your own thermostat, the door has a seal around it, and there are extra ventilation vents that lead out and not to the rest of the apartment or building. I had it specially remodeled to be… as comfortable as possible for an omega.” Geralt explained and pushed the door open, welcoming Jaskier inside. He stood by the door, wanting to keep the separation of Omegan Space and General Space very stark. 

Jaskier walked in, eyes looking at the ten foot ceiling, the calm blue walls, the plush grey carpet, and the still plastic wrapped mattress Mister Rivia said would be provided sitting on a black metal bed frame that had a spiral patterned head and footboard. It was bare but somehow he could already picture where he’d put his things, hang his posters and pictures. 

He looked at the closet with its louvered doors and the big window overlooking the park that was spread out next to the building. He could open it and get good fresh air or the warm sun, and hear the rain at night. 

“Wow… This is amazing, really. So much space and such soft carpeting… so plush. I'm really really happy. Thank you Mr. Rivia! I’ll go get the rest of my stuff, just a couple bags and my instruments and my ikea shelves.” Jaskier thanked graciously, and happily, nearly skipped, to the front door. The alpha was right behind him, grabbing some keys from the rings by the door. 

“I’ll help you. I have your copy of the key in my truck anyway.” Geralt said and couldn’t help the small smile that smirked on his lips at the omega’s genuine response. 

“Oh, thank you, dear.” Jaskier said as he slipped his shoes back on and opened the front door. He couldn’t help but feel giddy. He’d always dreamed of a place like this. So what if he had a smoking hot roommate who smelled so nice, it was only a bonus. He couldn’t wait to get the plastic off that bed and sleep alone for the first time in… since he moved out of his parent’s house. 

It was like heaven already. 

~~~~~

Geralt was surprised about how much he enjoyed another man’s presence in his home. He liked the sound of Jaskier cooking in the kitchen, he liked that the omega would leave his bathroom door open after he got a shower and his scented steam would waft out, all honey sweet and warm, he liked that Jaskier would come quietly sit down and watch TV with him if he heard a show come on. 

He liked when Jaskier sat on the kitchen counters under the bright white lights to tweak and fix his old second hand instruments. He liked that Jaskier would talk and talk, about his job, customers, his music, anything in the world and not get offended when Geralt didn’t answer. The alpha found it soothing to have the chatter while eating dinner or breakfast. He liked that Jaskier hummed as he did laundry or washed dishes or swept, tunes that he’d hear on a guitar or keyboard after a few weeks. Geralt felt less lonely, like the hollow feeling he felt after Cirilla moved out was being filled, not in the same way his daughter’s presence did, no not at all, it was an all new feeling. It was nice.

Jaskier loved living in the apartment. He could open up his window and smoke when he got itchy for a cigarette, he could work late into the night and not worry about making too much noise, he could masturbate and not worry about the smell or his sounds, and Mister Rivia let him watch TV with him. 

He loved that. He loved sitting by the older alpha, eating dinner with him, greeting him in the morning. He loved that Mister Rivia would ask him if he had a good day at work or if he was cold or if he got wet by the rain and then tell him to get a warm shower and put on some dry clothes before dinner. He liked that when he forgot his work apron and his name tag and his jacket, Mister Rivia caught him in the lobby of the building, all three in his hand and a gentle finger wag. 

He loved being looked after. It wasn’t overbearing, it was sweet. 

They were happy together, Geralt made sure Jaskier knew when to be out of the apartment when his daughter or ex-wife was visiting, sending Jaskier off with a few dollars to get coffee or a snack. Jaskier gave Geralt ample warning when he was going into heat, making sure the alpha was okay with him to heat in the apartment before locking himself away in his room for a few days. 

There were a few hiccups. Geralt had a yelling match in his office which made Jaskier cry and hide away at his friend’s house till Geralt called him, and swore it wouldn’t happen again. Jaskier came home drunk, very drunk, and fell asleep half hung over his toilet, naked from the waist up, shoes left in the middle of the floor, front door left unlocked. Geralt had given him a strong talking to. 

‘That is not safe Julian. If you ever get that drunk, where you can’t keep yourself on your own feet, you call me. At least then I can lock our front door.’ Jaskier had sniffled and nodded, making sure he had Geralt on speed dial. 

And the one time they actually argued. Four months in and they had a fight. Jaskier wanted to hang up a new poster, a big framed thing. But he didn’t ask where the step ladder was and thought it was too rude to stand on a dining room chair. So he stood on his computer chair. And left his bedroom door open. 

Geralt had come home from a meeting at the office, tired and uncomfortable in his tailored suit. He’d barely broken the entryway when he heard Jaskier scream out in fear. He found Jaskier crying, hand over his bloody knee. He was first concerned and scared but once he saw it was just carpet burn, and noticed the computer chair was tipped and the half hung poster, he was angry. He barely kept his voice from rising as Jaskier cried, yelling back.

 ‘I’m a grown man, I can do it by myself!’ Jaskier had shouted, shoving away Geralt's concerned hands. 

‘Obviously, if you used the right things. You should never stand on a swivel chair, Julian, You can be as grown as you want as long as you use your head! Don’t be stupid Julian. Think.’ Geralt had reprimanded, leaving a hand to help Jaskier to his feet. Jaskier had pouted and stomped to the bathroom, slamming the door. Geralt had huffed and slammed his own door. 

Jaskier apologized and looked like a dog, tail tucked between his legs. 

‘I’m sorry. Just got scared.’ 

‘I forgive you. You know where the step ladder is, next time, use it. Please’ 

And all was set back to normal. 

Month after month, five had passed, their few disagreements passed easily, and soon Jaskier had been there for Christmas. 

They had exchanged small gifts. Jaskier got Geralt a pair of new blue slippers because ‘Geralt yours are ugly and old, look these have really good insoles!’, and Geralt got Jaskier a nesting bundle of music print blankets and pillows.

 Jaskier had cried and told Geralt that it wasn’t fair and that he shouldn’t have spent so much money, ‘Jaskier would it make you feel better if I said it was on sale?’ 

‘Yeah, it would.’ 

‘It was clearance, cost me barely anything.’ 

‘Okay good, lie to me if it makes me feel better.’ 

‘I will’, Geralt had rubbed the omega’s back until he stopped crying. He’d made a note to himself to always tell Jaskier his gifts were cheap, even if they were $100 nesting bundles. In Geralt’s mind it was worth it, to see Jaskier tie the bundle to feel each piece, cotton, flannel, fuzzy material that Jaskier rubbed against his lips repeatedly until he hauled it all to his room with a big smile. 

And then New Years and Jaskier sent Geralt a selfie, covered in glitter and glow sticks under a blanket of confetti and fireworks, right at 12:01. Geralt had saved the photo, he didn’t know why, but the big smile on the omega’s face and the way his cheeks were crimson red and eyes drunk dilated, it made Geralt’s heart jump. He didn’t mention it to Eskel or Lambert when they asked why he was smiling at his phone during their poker game.  

Then Valentine’s Day which was the worst because Jaskier was supposed to be in heat but he’d just started new hormonal heat aids, which supposedly were supposed to keep his cramps at bay, and they were making him crazy. He sobbed into a gallon of ice cream on the couch, covered in piles of blankets, watching some disgustingly cheesy romance movie with Brad Pitt.

Geralt was trying to finish a spreadsheet but each time he heard the omega sob, it felt like his heart was being ripped out, making him hurt. So he was out on the couch soon enough, rubbing the omega’s back as he cried and babbled about how the medicine wasn’t working and his stomach hurt and his head hurt and he felt starving and he was getting fat and a million other things. Geralt just shushed him and didn’t say anything. Eventually Jaskier calmed down and fell asleep there on the sofa, leaving his empty tub of ice cream and spoon on the side table. Geralt put pillows behind his head, wiped his sticky face and hands with a damp paper towel, and turned the tv and lights off. It made Geralt feel better, even though he kept his door open, headphones half off. Just until Jaskier dragged himself to bed. 

They liked living together, they liked having each other around. Just as roommates, as friends, as… whatever they were. They respected each other, never going into each other's bedrooms, Geralt never going into the omega’s nest and Jaskier never stepping foot in the alpha’s den. They didn’t talk about Yennefer or Jaskier’s heats. 

They pretended to not hear each other’s personal dramatics. Jaskier pretending to never hear Geralt’s phone calls with Yennefer or the late night binges on the candy he had stashed above the fridge. And Geralt never hearing the noises that came from Jaskier’s bathroom at 3am.  

It was easy, it was a silent arrangement that worked. 

Until it changed.

[emiiinazer]

My bard

Some soft babes because I will go down in this fluff ship

Feel free to use as a phone background 😁

[horsedadgeralt]

He’s running

There is someone behind him, chasing him, getting closer with each step he takes, each desperate breath he tries to force into his screaming lungs.

Jaskier knows that it’s futile.

He is no fighter, and though that means that he is the prey, it’s clear that he wasn’t meant for that either, his legs shaking and his muscles twitchting as he’s trying not to get stuck in the muddy forest floor.

“Help!” he screams.

“Someone help me, please!”

But to no avail.

Behind him, there are footsteps, but he doesn’t dare look, knowing that if he gives in, he might just as well slit his own throat.

Is it Rience? Has he found him again, ready to finish what he started?

He can feel his hand starting to burn, can smell the stench of burning flesh and just as his foot gets caught on a root carefully hidden underneath some leaves, he can feel two arms around his waist.

As he closes his eyes to accept his fate, Jaskier lets out one last scream. For himself or the forest, he does not know. Do you really make a sound if no one is there to hear it?

But there is no pain. No fire, no sizzling, no smoke, just warmth.

That, and the two arms still tightly wrapped around his waist, holding him close.

“Jaskier,” Geralt mumbles, his face buried into the bard’s hair.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you. It’s just a dream, you’re safe.”

It takes a moment for reality to catch up with him, but then Jaskier feels it. The mattress below him, the blanket covering them both.

He hears the sound of the last few pieces of wood burning in the fire places, crackling as the fire eats away at it, and dollops of rain falling against the window with a random yet comforting rhythm.

And, loudest of all, he hears Geralt’s hearbeat. Steady and slow, each thud pulling him back into reality more and more.

Thud.

He is safe.

Thud.

Geralt is here.

Thud.

Slowly, he turns around so that he is facing the Witcher, their chests flush. He mimics the sleepy smile on Geralt’s face and leans in close for a kiss.

Thud, thud, thud.

With butterflies in his stomach and chest, he closes his eyes, the song of their hearts beating in unison lulling him back to sleep.

[dapandapod]

Concept:

Geralt works in an aquarium, near the biggest fish tank.

Jaskier is a newly hired mermaid performer

Geralt was not told about this

In my dreams, it's still Mermay 2023. Husshhh time is fake. ANYWAY here it is! Thank you @magdelanesingerin helping me beta read <3 and thank you Ella-la for the prompt! It was a lot of fun! Please enjoy <3 On Ao3 here

Technically, Geralt does not work with humans. As in, he’s not there to provide care to humans.

Most of his coworkers are human, yes, but that is not the point. He did not start working here to serve people stale sandwiches and sparkling water.

Geralt knows every inch of the aquarium, knows every work position available.

He knows how to do everything, despite actually being there for the more excotic species of aquatic animals, usually with many teeth. Pros and Cons of working with the family, he supposes.

The years he has spent out in the field and all the late nights he worked with his doctor's thesis, all the scars from times he spent crawling through knee deep water that stank of sulfur and decay, only to find his arm swallowed to the elbow by something very small with big hubris-- all of that is put to perfect use as he wraps yet another dry, overpriced sandwich, or scoops yet another ice cream.

The reason he actually stays, despite the screaming children and the sweating parents and the bored teenagers and the entitled grandparents and the weird work tasks he gets assigned, is the way a young girl's face lights up when Geralt holds up a frog, big enough for him to have to use both hands.

Or the way the sullen teen beams when one of their rare giant butterflies lands on their hands. Or when he can hold an audience captive while showing them something new and exciting and incredibly nerdy about his sharks.

Geralt loves his sharks.

Due to every summer reason ever, Geralt has sadly been called away from his animal related daytime tasks to cover shifts where their usual summer employees are out sick. Which seems to be most of this month.

Where he stands right now, in the very small and very understaffed little kiosk, he has an excellent view of the shark tank, at least. As the aquarium has grown in popularity, so has their shark tank, his pride and joy.

Coën had explained to him excitedly that their new tank would have a much bigger viewing area, and seating area, almost like a little theater. To allow for future opportunities, he had said, and Geralt thought of the way he would be allowed to show off his beauties through the window and almost got excited himself.

It is unusually crowded today, and a lot of people are gathering around the viewing area and are chattering.

It's so loud, their voices bouncing around the room and amplifying, and it's hard to hear the woman in front of him inexplicably order their largest latte and a lactose free cheese sandwich.

Luckily, Milva is coming in soon to cover the rest of the shift, so Geralt can finally get back behind the tanks, out of sight of all the people.

But before he can, the clock strikes one, music blares through the speakers the speakers, and one of the employees he knows from birthday parties steps out with a microphone. It makes Geralt frown, because this is new.

Usually, the show around the big tank would involve a kid friendly lesson about the fish and aquatic animals in their tank, sometimes accompanied by a sweaty Lambert in a mascot suit.

This time, however, there is dreamy music, the lights are lowered even more, and the employee is talking about the magical beings living in the deep, out of sight of human eyes.

See, Geralt is a man of science.

He knows there are mythical and magical things in the depths, having been up close and personal with a few. But this sounds like they are setting up for some kind of misinformed children’s movie.

Which is why Geralt's jaw is somewhere around floor level, when an actual mermaid- wait no, merman, swims up to the glass, waving at the children.

Milva has to elbow him out of the way so she can serve the next customer, while Geralt stares at the Merman flitting around in his beloved shark tank.

The sharks stay clear, because even if the merman's tail is beautiful, it is still striped much like a dragon fish, warning all of them not only with his size, but also with his pattern and coloring, that he is dangerous.

Yet his smile is wide, his claws retracted to tap a smooth fingertip at the glass and wave at the crowd with a webbed hand.

His hair is chestnut brown, matching the pattern riding up along his back, with specks of gold dancing on his skin and in his blue, very blue eyes.

Geralt somehow finds himself by the rail to the seating area, and the merman's eyes lock with his.

As they do, they widen a fraction, and the smile turns into a smirk. The merman winks, and turns, swimming in a pirouetting circle as the employee narrates his movements.

As he swims, the light dances over muscle and bone and scale, the crowd around him making ‘Oooh’ and ‘Aaah’ noises. He is beautiful.

The merman keeps showing off, his many long fins twirling around him like ribbons in the calm water. It is mesmerizing, and as the show is coming to a close, Geralt hurries to the back area and towards the tank.

He gets intercepted by Lambert, of course, who steps in front of him with a shit eating grin spread wide across his smug face.

"Like the new show, did you, pretty boy?" Lambert says, sly eyes watching him.

"I didn't realize we had a new show." Geralt grumbles. "I need to-"

"-Go and ask our new pretty fish boy intrusive questions, yes I know. Just remember he is not a science project."

With a pat on Geralt's shoulder, Lambert walks past him and intothe guest area.

"Oh, and ask him for his number. Literally everybody in the room saw that wink," he throws over his shoulder as he goes.

Geralt feels his ears burn as he moves forward again, because yeah, that wink felt very... yeah. Words fail him, which is a bit unfortunate, seeing as he is just arriving at the stairs to the tank.

Climbing them, he tries to remember what he planned to do in the first place, other than, as Lambert called it, 'ask intrusive questions'.

As he reaches the top of the stairs, the merman is just climbing out of the tank, assisted by Eskel. Once again, Geralt feels his jaw drop, noticing that his tail is now legs.

Long legs. Bare legs, that goes up, up, and lucky for all of them, the rest of the view is quickly hidden by a towel wrapped around a slim waist.

"Figures," he hears Eskel snort, "Jaskier, this is Geralt, our aquatic expert."

They are on separate ends of the room, the tank between them, but the world narrows down to just the two of them.

There is, and always has been, a specific mood to the rooms that houses the the big tanks.

The way the water reflects light, sending it dancing on the walls and ceiling, how it softens shadows, how it can be dark but bright at the same time; Geralt has always did found it a little romantic.

Which isn't something he would ever confess to unless he was swimming in alcohol, or so sleep deprived he didn’tt even know his own name, but it is there, simmering in the back of his mind.

Especially now as he is standing there in the soft, romantic light with a man, who was just a merman, looking back at him as if he has discovered the world anew. He can even pretend that the humming of pumps and gurgling of water filters and dripping of pipes are an orchestra, a symphony to accompany a first meeting.

Alright, that is overdoing it, but still.

Behind Jaskier, Eskel is rolling his eyes so hard his body moves with it.

"Every. Frickin. Time. Jaskier, good job, don't forget to wash off before you get dressed. Let's talk after... after. Later. I do not want to be here right now."

Eskel leaves, patting Jaskier's shoulder, who only nods and waves absently, eyes still fixed at Geralt.

When Eskel is gone, disappearing through another door leading to more, smaller tanks and the food prep area, Geralt finally finds he can move.

It is oddly silent, except for the metallic sound of his shoes hitting the maze of walkways hanging above the tank. He stops, even before he has turned the corner to the final stretch.

"Hi," he manages after a few seconds too long.

The corner of Jaskier's mouth tugs up into a smile, and he reaches for another towel hanging on a hook on the wall.

"Hi," he echoes, his voice just a little raspy. Jaskier wraps the towel around his shoulders, using a corner to dry his hair. "So, you are the Geralt that I have heard so much about."

Geralt blinks. He did not expect people to have mentioned him, but then again, they might actually have warned Jaskier of him.

"Ah. Sorry. I can be uh... less than tactful when something grabs my interest."

Jaskier tilts his head even more and takes a step closer to him.

"So did I? Grab your interest, I mean."

Shit. Fuck. Shit fuck shit.

"I have never met a merman before." Geralt says stiffly, ears burning something fierce, and Jaskier looks amused.

Jaskier steps closer; his feet probably hurt from walking barefoot on the metal grating of the walkway but he doesn't stop until he is close enough to Geralt to stretch out his hand.

"Well then. My name is Jaskier, as you might have gathered. Nice to meet you! Though, I am not full mer, actually."

Interesting.

Geralt shakes his hand, noticing the tips of Jaskier’s fingers are a little rough against the back of his hand.

"Is that why you have... uh..."

"Legs?" Jaskier supplies helpfully. Geralt is still shaking his hand. "In part, yes. Some Mer have a splash of elven blood, granting them the ability to choose."

Geralt should stop shaking his hand. He really should. Their eyes are still locked, and Jaskier is still giving him that amused smile.

"You can stop shaking my hand now," he reminds Geralt, but doesn’t pull his hand back.

"Right. Yes. Right. Sorry." Geralt manages to let go, and is infinitely happy Eskel has left the room, though no doubt Lambert will look at the security footage for later. Shit.

As soon as Geralt manages to break the stare into the man’s eyes, he notices the next problem. Jaskier is pretty much naked, barely covered by the towels, revealing skin, chest hair, and the hint of a tattoo along his ribs and on one thigh.

He wants to ask about that, if it transfers to his fins or not. But as he stares, he also realizes Jaskier is shivering slightly. He's an idiot.

"I uh. Should leave you to get dressed. There is a shower in the changing rooms. Uhm. Can I get you a coffee or something? Later?"

Jaskier smiles that amused smile of his while Geralt is kicking himself internally. Words never were his thing, no, but this is ridiculous.

"As in bring me a coffee, or drink a coffee together with me?"

"Whichever you are comfortable with. Sorry, I am not making a good impression here."

"You are very cute, if that helps." Jaskier says, and Geralt blinks, stunned.

When he fails to reply, Jaskier pulls his towel tighter around himself, and nods.

"Right. So, I'll go shower, and we’ll pretend I never said that. And I'll see you later. For coffee."

Jaskier’s ears are slightly red, and Geralt wants to pretend it’s from their conversation, not from being cold.

Geralt nods, and flees before he can put his foot in his mouth any further, and only after he is half way down the stairs does he realize that he forgot to ask if Eskel showed Jaskier where the changing rooms are.

Too late now, he absolutely won’t go back and risk walking in on a very naked Jaskier. Nope.

When Geralt steps into the public area again, the crowds are slowly thinning out, now that the show is over.

Parents are herding kids towards bathrooms and other viewing areas, and Geralt decides that he needs to find something just a little better than the staff room coffee machine.

It feels a little cheap to go with the aquarium café, and he realizes he doesn't even know how Jaskier likes his coffee. Geralt himself has a sweet tooth, and very few ever believe that at first sight.

He decides to stand and awkwardly waits until Jaskier comes back out.

He manages to work himself up as he waits, overthinking until he’s standing there frowning and glaring at the wall when Jaskier emerges at last.

Quirking an eyebrow, Jaskier hoists his dufflebag a bit higher on his shoulder.

"You good?"

"Hmm. What kind of coffee do you like?" Geralt asks, before he can say something dumb.

"Black as tar, so anything is good." Jaskier smiles. See? You never know what to expect, even with sunshine incarnated.

Geralt nods, and leads the way to the little kiosk where he was working just a few, life-changing minutes before. .

Milva smiles gleefully at Geralt when it's their turn, and hands them a coffee black as tar, and for Geralt, coffee with milk and three sugar cubes.

Instead of sitting down, they put away Jaskier's bag and wander around the aquarium. It turns out he never had the chance to look around before diving in for his first show.

Geralt tries to not ask all the intrusive questions bubbling up in his head, his scientific curiosity temporarily pushed down by the way Jaskier coos at tiny crabs and little fishes in weird shapes and colors.

At last, Jaskier informs him that he can't stay any longer, that he has band practice after his show, and should have gone already.

"But I'll see you again, Geralt," Jaskier promises with a smile. "Next week. Unless you want to grab a bite sometime?"

Jaskier's ears are red again, and Geralt can feel his own face getting warm.

"I'd like that," he mumble, and Jaskier beams. They exchange numbers, just in case Geralt had anything else to ask.

Not one minute after Jaskier leaves, waving over his shoulder, Lambert is on him.

"Getting some tail, are you, pretty boy?" Lambert grins, and Geralt elbows him away.

"If you say anything ever again, I'll show Aiden all your drunk texts," he threatens, which he knows will only work for a few days.

Geralt risks sending a text that same night, and Jaskier replies only a few minutes after.

They have a lunch scheduled in a few days, and Geralt doesn't dare call it a date, not yet, no matter what Eskel says.

When Geralt goes to sleep later that night, he dreams of blue eyes, of chestnut brown and gold specks glimmering in the underwater light.

[bluewritinghood]

Witcher! Watch out for that tree!

“You didn’t have to throw that guy through a table you know.” Jaskier says absentmindedly plucking at his lute as he walks beside Geralt down the dusty path.

“He was being an ass.” Geralt reminds him.

“Yes, well it did get us kicked out of the inn though so maybe not worth it?” Jaskier says still plucking at his lute more than likely trying to subconsciously perfect a tune that would soon make an appearance in one of his latest songs.

“He called you a cocksucking bastard.” Geralt reminds him gruffly. “I wasn’t going to let it go.”

“I mean it’s not the worst thing I’ve ever been called I could give you a whole list of insults a mile long that’s been hurled at me this year alone and never repeat the same one twice.” Jaskier laughs at his own expense.

Geralt offers an irritated grunt by way of reply.

“I mean it wasn’t even really an insult since it’s true, I mean half of it at least.” Jaskier says tuning his lute slightly.

“You were an illegitimate child?” Geralt asks surprised.

“Oh gods no. No matter how much my father would like to claim otherwise, I meant the first part. You didn’t know I was Bisexual?” Jaskier asks sounding genuinely surprised.

Geralt doesn’t answer, doesn’t say anything at all, doesn’t look away from Jaskier even as they approach an enormous tree in the road. But surely Geralt couldn’t miss it, its trunk was wider than his shoulders for heaven’s sake.

Geralt runs smack into the tree with a dull ‘Thunk’ stumbling backward.

“Good gods Geralt are you alright?!” Jaskier says jogging the few steps he had fallen behind Geralt to catch up with him and check on him. “How in the world did you miss that tree?”

“You’re into men?” Geralt asks instead of answering the question.

“Yes, I thought that was painfully obvious. Don’t tell me that’s why you ran into the tree it’s honestly not that surprising. I mean I’m kinda fruity.” Jaskier says with a laugh.

Geralt just stares at Jaskier until his smile fades.

“You’re not opposed to that sort of thing are you?” Jaskier asks suddenly a little worried that this of all the things might be what ends their friendship.

Geralt is a silent as a stone for a few minutes leaving Jaskier to wonder what exactly he would say if he ever said anything at all.

“No.” Geralt finally grunts out relieving Jaskier of his fears.

“Well that’s a relief.” Jaskier says with a nervous chuckle.

Geralt continues to stare at him until Jaskier finally asks. “What exactly is the problem then?”

Geralt finally stops looking at him only to start looking anywhere but at him. “I’m in love with you.” He mumbles.

“I’m sorry come again?” Jaskier guffaws. “Because I thought a certain sorceress occupied that stony heart of yours.”

Geralt shakes his head reverting back to his normal taciturn state.

“You’re telling me I’ve had a chance with you all this time and you’re just telling me now?” Jaskier asks voice raising an octave.

Geralt finally seems to get the message that his feelings are reciprocated because the next thing Jaskier knows he’s being pushed up against the tree and Geralt is kissing him.

Ao3 link to this story.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/45596839

[jaskiercommabard]

Geralt still has his eyes on the pressed-flower imprint Jaskier's body leaves in the moss on the other side of his makeshift bed when the bard rolls on top of him. Geralt expects it to hurt, and it doesn't - it never does, with him.

There are already fingers in his hair and knees bracketing his waist and lips everywhere, everywhere, before his mind catches up to the movement in real time. A century's worth of self-mastery, a lifetime and then some of squaring off with the very worst of man and beast and every last stinking horror on the Continent, and this is Geralt's undoing. Of course it is.

Here is Jaskier - as Jaskier always is - setting the pace for both of them, shattering Geralt's composure until he can't make sense of where they started or where they're meant to be going.

What he can make sense of is the warm, solid body draped atop his own, and the soft swell of skin beneath his traitorous hands. He can make sense of the breaths warming his cheek and the beat of the sparrow heart thrumming against his ribs, knows it as well as his own.

He tries to lean up on his elbows and makes it halfway before his wretched arms give out, leaving just enough space for his clumsy words to fall out into the air between them.

"No, wait, you deserve for this to be done the right way–"

A wounded sound crawls out of Jaskier at that, buried in Geralt's shoulder like a secret.

"I tried," he whispers. "I tried that."

Geralt doesn't know what he means, and recognizes the thready shake in Jaskier's voice enough to know that he won't find out any time soon. Those spidery hands are still tugging at him desperately, slipping across his chest even as Geralt catches them beneath his own, traps a set of trembling fingers there against his sluggish heart.

"Fuck the right way," Jaskier breathes, steadier now, though that jagged, tattered something still tugs at the edges of it. "Either kiss me like you mean it or don't."

Geralt can't bear it, can't bear the expression that breaks on his companion's face as he gently pushes him back, leaning up until they face each other despite the creaking protest from his mangled back.

There is nothing but air and dappled moonlight between them, now, as Geralt raises two delicate hands from where they've fallen into his lap. Those unfathomable morning-sky eyes are shining, sliding away from him again until he brushes his lips against Jaskier's knuckles.

It pulls a softer sound from him, from them both, as they bend together in the warm, dark air.

"I mean it," Geralt murmurs against each ridge, presses into the bend of his wrist, into the flat of his open palm.

Into each precious fingertip, "I mean it."

Geralt: "No, wait, you deserve for this to be done the right way–"

Jaskier: "Fuck 'the right way.' Either kiss me like you mean it or don't."

[irrlicht-writes]

dandelions

“If ever I’d be reborn, I’d like to be a flower,” the bard says, while gently sitting in a field, picking flowers for no reason really. Geralt sits not too far from him, keeping an eye on Roach so that she might not eat too many flowers and sour her stomach.

“Hm,” the Witcher replies, not knowing what to say.

“Think about it,” the bard continues undeterred, “as a flower, I could waive in the wind, dance under the sun and sing of worlds yet to come.”

“You sing plenty now,” the Witcher reminds him, “why not sing of those worlds now?”

The bard laughs, and it’s a clear, bright sound, and it engulfs the entire valley.

“If I sang of those worlds now, darling Witcher,” he plucks another flower, deep violet, and adds it to his ever-growing bouquet, “they would all tell me to shut up and sing the coin song again.”

“We both hate the coin song.”

“Indeed we do! It’s the price of fame, although I’d wish they would have forgotten it by now. I haven’t even sung it in ages! I’ve written catchier refrains.”

The Witcher snorts. “You have? I must have missed them.”

The bard throws some flowers in the Witcher’s general direction but as flowers do, they all fall to the ground before ever hitting their target. “I am wounded,” the Witcher says tonelessly, for nothing but mocking purposes. The bard huffs and turns his attention back to his flowers.

“If ever I’d be reborn,” the bard says again, “I’d like to be a flower.”

“Hm,” the Witcher replies again, not knowing what to say.

“Think about it,” the bard continues undeterred yet again, “as a flower, they would not hear me sing at all. But if they could hear me on the wind, they would love me all the more.”

“They love you plenty now, hearing you sing already.”

The bard laughs again, like the Witcher does not understand.

“No, my love, they do not. Oh they love me, yes, my prancing and my singing, and my flirting, and my twirling, but me, they love not. If I were not to sing, not to prance, not to flirt, not to twirl, not to joy their hearts for coin – they would take no interest in me. Another washed up wanderer on the road, they’d say! Throw him some mouldy bread and hope he brings no plague with him!”

“I’ve not met a many washed up wanderers brave enough to follow me into the fray.”

The bard smiles then, a whispered little thing the Witcher almost did not see. Roach wanders around, sniffing the different flowers and yet, she had eaten not a single one of them.

A pleasant silence befalls them in the valley, as the bard continues to pick more flowers – who he is picking them for, the Witcher does not know. The bard does things sometimes that make no sense, because he wants to. The Witcher has learned to accept this, and this is a pleasant thing to do, a pleasant place to rest.

“If ever I’d be reborn,” the bard starts again, “I’d like to be a flower.”

“Hm,” the Witcher replies once more, because it is tradition now, not knowing what to say.

“Think about it,” the bard continues – as per tradition – undeterred, “as a flower, mayhap a dandelion, I could be carried by the wind, being carried to where I need to go.”

“You travel plenty now,” the Witcher says, “no need to be carried by the wind.”

“That might be true, dear heart, and yet! How limited are we, bound to the ground beneath our feet, the saddle of a horse? The wind! The wind knows no limit, crescending into a storm. And! Darling Witcher, how would we know where we’re needed? We can only travel so far, see so many places. What if we’d be needed in the other direction? How would we know?!”

“All we can do is move forwards, bard. We do our best where we can.”

The bard plucks his last flower and turns to the Witcher. In his arms, he holds all the flowers he picked – colourful and pretty, a plenty a piece. In his hand, he holds a dandelion, with its seed ready to be carried away.

“That we do, my love. That we do.”

He looks at the dandelion in his hand, and the wind plays gently with his hair.

Quietly, he blows and the dandelion seeds get picked up by the wind.

The Witcher and the Bard look after them until they are out of sight.

Then, they move on to the next town, and the bard plays music in the tavern. He prances, and sings, and flirts, and twirls, and they love him.

Many, many years later, Geralt comes across a field of flowers.

In it sits a boy, picking flowers.

He notices Geralt from a distance, and looks up, waves, and grins brightly like the sun. He wears a flower crown made of buttercups and dandelions.

“If ever I’d be reborn,” the bard whispers quietly, “I’d like to be a flower.”