#Geraskier spy au

[thedemonofcat]

A Modern spy Au

You see, Geralt is actually an operative for MI6, his role as a mechanic merely a cover for his covert operations. Meanwhile, Jaskier is none other than Prince Julian Alfred Pankratz of Lettenhove, a small coastal kingdom. He abandoned his royal identity years ago to escape the overwhelming burden of one day ascending to the throne.

One fateful night, the secrets of Geralt and Jaskier collide with reality. News spreads of Lettenhove's invasion by a foreign regime, and they're now hunting Jaskier to manipulate him as a puppet ruler.

The peaceful existence Geralt and Jaskier once cherished shatters when their home is attacked. Now, Geralt must utilize his espionage skills to protect his beloved husband and confront a perilous world they never anticipated.

[geraskierficrecs]

New Story Alert!

I caved and started a new two-shot story featuring a very feral bard.  Enjoy the whump and angst.

Check out the first chapter here.

Teaser:

Priscilla huffed out an aggrieved sounding sigh that made him smile faintly up at the green leaves above him.  “I still don’t think this was a good idea,” she said, repeating an old argument.  “You’re too exposed out there.  Especially now that–”

The clumsy attempt at cutting herself off before she completed the thought was enough to pique Jaskier’s interest.  “Now that what?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Don’t be coy.”

“You don’t want to know about it,” she said.  “That’s what you asked for.  A disconnect.”

There was only one topic Jaskier had sworn to avoid and the thought of it, of him made the smile drop like a stone from his face.  He closed his eyes and forced his breathing to remain steady, knowing Priscilla was like logging every change in his voice.  “Is he hurt?”

The image of Geralt lying dead and abandoned was the sort of madness that inspired his darkest nightmares.  They were the nightmares that left Jaskier shaking and hollow eyed for days afterward.

“He’s…” she sighed, the sound staticky over the cheap phone speakers.  “We don’t know.”

“What do you mean ‘you don’t know’?”

The illusion of control was crumbling in his grip like grains of sand.  He lost his battle against the panic threatening to overwhelm him and let it roll over him in waves, searching for the colder emotions lurking beneath the surface.  Anger.  Rage.  Vengeance.

Priscilla’s voice spoke over the thundering of his heartbeat in his ears.  “He went missing two weeks ago.  We haven’t been able to make contact with him.”

“Two weeks?” he repeated.  “Why wasn’t I informed?”

“You’re out,” she said.  “You gave up your chance to be informed.”

[leverage-ot3]

11,17,20

Proudest moment?

bro I wrote this but I have no idea honestly

Favorite thing about yourself?

I’m passionate about helping others! And my tattoo plans are to make my body a garden which I love 💖

What are the fanfics you’ve ever read?

okay so this depends on fandom!

the witcher

we are known by the stories we share (geraskier, witcher!jaskier)

Watch Me Burn (geraskefer, yennefer stayed nilfgaard court mage au)

The Likes of You (geraskefer, fake marriage au, jaskier’s family)

Rivers Run Series (geraskier, river god jaskier)

Dead Weight (jaskier x lambert x aiden, banshee jaskier au)

Love’s Worth Running To (jaskier x geralt x eskel, au)

and i plan to be forgotten when i'm gone (yes i'll be leaving in the fall) (geraskier, cursed jaskier au)

Sing for Me, Little Lark (geraskier, bdsm club au)

Kiss a Frog (When He's Your Witcher) (geraskier, spy jaskier au)

The Red Prince (geraskier, fae jaskier au, witcher god jaskier)

the only way to breathe is to scream (geraskier, separate worlds au, famous singer jaskier, jaskier’s family is mafia)

Belong (geraskier, x men world au, teacher jaskier)

for she has done mischief (geraskefer, jaskier fucks a god and gets a baby out of it, jaskier’s family, parent trapping)

Business Partners (geraskefer, ice skating au)

if i'm good will you come back (geraskier, jaskier reincarnates au, heartbreaking and beautiful)

stranger things

How A Resurrection Really Feels (steve harrington x eddie munson)

Paradise By The Dashboard Light (steve harrington x eddie munson)

Good Ol' Fashioned Sexuality Crisis During the Apocalypse (steve harrington x eddie munson)

Touch and Go (steve x billy- lowkey though, I do not like billy and do not ship them but this was done really well; pre-steve x eddie; crossover with black phone)

The Idea of Something Binding Us Together (steve had powers au, steve & eleven are siblings)

The Future Mrs Harrington (steve & robin friendship, fake relationship; time travel au)

Look Right Through Me (steve was taken before will, steve & will friendship, steve & hopper)

Sanctuary (steve x eddie, steve goes missing in 1985 au)

leverage

Hearts Wrapped in Clover (leverage ot3, eliot never joined leverage au)

Ten Prides in Portland (leverage ot3, ten years of pride months in portland, a beautiful fic)

kids (aren't) alright (leverage ot3 teen au)

red notice

I Don't Care About Anyone (nolan x sarah x john)

marvel

In The End, She Appears (darcy x bucky, darcy is a banshee au, unfinished)

Daughter Of Athena Series (darcy x bucky x steve, darcy is a demigod au)

Red Threads of Fate (steve x bucky x fem!harry potter, soulmates; SO GOOD)

In Search of Elysium (darcy x bucky x steve, no avengers au)

The Super Soldier Job (leverage x marvel crossover, leverage team helps bucky after tws, leverage ot3 obviously)

Birds of Desire (darcy x steve x bucky, soulmates)

This Is My Hand (darcy x steve x bucky, soulmates)

Tread Softly, Angels (darcy x steve x bucky, soulmates, one of my first beloved fics)

Irreverence Is My Superpower (darcy x steve x bucky)

Here And Where You Are (darcy x steve x bucky, darcy has powers)

Surrender My Bones (darcy x steve x bucky, apocalypse au, unfinished)

bewitched, bothered, and bewildered (darcy x steve x bucky, darcy is a witch, THIS FIC MY BELOVED, unfinished)

the fortune teller (darcy x steve x bucky, immortal fortune teller darcy)

misc

Of the Northmost Winds and Skies (jack frost x hiccup, don’t judge me I was curious and then it altered my brain chemistry)

[roughentumble]

reading a book on irish myths and legends that reminded me that it's pretty common for fairy stories to have some sort of magical bride who kinda Appears one day, but who can only stay if you observe certain conditions.

and so i propose a geraskier AU where jaskier is geralt's fairy bride who just Shows Up one day.

the book specifically lists in its examples "such as that he shall not spy upon her, ill-treat her, or ask of her origin." so i'm thinking potentially geralt cant ask about jaskier's past, and he cannot spy on jaskier, but as long as he doesnt do those things, jaskier gets to stay. but if he does get curious and starts to pry he'll discover jaskier's fairy nature and jaskier will be forced to leave, making it a balance between wanting to know everything about his love, and accepting jaskier for who he is now instead of prying up old pain

[dancingwiththefae]

When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass it on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love!

Ooh hmmm let’s see

1. Cold turkey - 8.1k, E, geraskier, vampire!jask who has a blood addiction.

Was the first fic idea I ever had but it took me a while to actually write it. Have a whole series planned for this.

2. A rosebud by any other name - ongoing currently at 28.4k but will be close to 90 when finished, E, Geraskefer

AU where Jaskier works in a brothel in oxenfurt and Geralt becomes one of his clients. Slow burn romance between the trio. Lots of smut and humour and a spy subplot that will give a little angst later. This one has been fun to write.

3. Deep into that darkness peering - 17.4k, Major Character Death, M, Implied geraskier.

Geralt is haunted by Jaskiers ghost and sets out on a quest to find out what happened to him. Very melancholy with sort of a happy ending. First chaptered fic I posted.

4. Baby I’m not fooling - 2.9k, E, Yennskier,

first delve into yennskier smut. I still think this is fun and sexy

5. Challenge the mighty titan and his troubadours - ongoing, M, yennskier pirate AU

Only three chapters posted to ao3 at the minute but I have the full thing planned. Doesn’t have the highest stats of my fics but I like the story I’ve created and I have lots of fun writing it (enemies to lovers am I right guys) so I don’t care that much. Most ambitious AU I’ve done I think.

These aren’t in any kind of order just the first ones I thought of.

Thank you <3

[echo-bleu]

Writing thoughts: NaNo 2022 edition

I don’t do these regularly anymore but this seems like a good time to take stock, with the start of NaNo and all (I know, I know, it’s the 5th already. Shhh.)

As usual, I’m not doing a proper NaNo, I’m just using it to make myself work on my various WIPs. This is a Witcher-only edition, because that’s what I’m writing at the moment (original WIPs have taken the backburner in the face of new hyperfixation).

left you behind just standing there: mid-s2 divergence. Five years post s2, after Geralt is injured, Ciri goes looking for the bard he left behind and finds him traumatized and disabled, raising a little half-elf autistic kid named Maja with a violet-eyed woman on the coast of Redania.

The first part (Ciri finding them) is currently 18k and will be maybe 25k. I want to write a second part of their reunion with Geralt set maybe a few months later, and then maybe a couple of short prequel fics about what happened to get them there.

what you hear is not silence aka mute!Jaskier AU: will be a series of fics mostly following canon, but where Jaskier never got his voice back after the djinn.

Currently 19k total. Instalments in progress (with current wordcount): - Initial part (tentatively titled I’ll sing silence) covering the first few weeks (4k) - Jaskier learning sign language in Oxenfurt (2.6k) - Something from Yennefer’s POV, stretching from the djinn to mid- or late-s2 - Post-Mountain where Jaskier becomes Ciri’s tutor in Cintra (3.6k) - Building the Sandpiper network, which might stretch to the end of the season (reunion with Geralt and Ciri) (6.8k) - Post s2 in Kaer Morhen, focused on forgiveness and healing (1.3k)

Untitled warlord AU: inspired by @inexplicifics‘s wonderful warlord AU, of course. Post s1, Ciri finds Jaskier instead of Geralt. While Geralt becomes a warlord, Jaskier build an underground smuggling network in Oxenfurt and tries to raise Ciri and his own daughter Maja on his own. When the witchers conquer Redania, Geralt asks for a meeting with the infamous Sandpiper, whose real identity has been kept very secret... (feat. mostly blind!Jaskier). This is in planning stages only, I’ve written maybe 2k of an earlier version.

for all the things that drum: post-show time travel AU where Jaskier goes back to save Renfri, and ends up having to stay, while a younger version of him meets Geralt in Posada. He watches over them and tries to ease their path, becomes Ciri’s tutor in Cintra, and falls in love with Yennefer (Geraskefer endgame, I think). It should be a series of fics as well, with some of them set before the jump back. One fic is finished and another in progress.

sing me awake: modern AU with nonbinary Jaskier, Geraskier and Yentriss. Jaskier is an indie musician with fibromyalgia & ADHD and works at a library, Geralt is an autistic social worker. Two fics are posted (a flower by any other name and your smile in mine) and two are in slow progress (one where Jaskier has a bad day and they talk about Geralt’s depression and queer things, and one where Geralt is in trouble). I don’t have any specific plans for this one but I’ll probably come back to it for short prompts.

every promise and lie: modern spy!AU retelling of the show events. This one is finished, I just need to post the third chapter. I might come back to the AU, but probably not.

breathing life (working title): should be a short fic or possibly a mixed comic/fic, where Jaskier becomes Life’s personification. I’m leaning more toward poetic prose here so I’m working hard on every word, but it won’t be long.

remember me I sing  has a sequel in the works. I haven’t touched it in weeks, though, and I don’t like what I have much, so we’ll see.

Untitled 80s AU: an idea for a one-shot I came up with. I don’t know if I’ll ever finish it. It has a very bittersweet vibe, set at the heights of AIDS, with Jaskier having a late night radio show and a very lonely grieving Geralt calling in.

I have a couple of other barely started ideas, and one fic I can’t talk about that’s for the Winter Exchange. But that’s the gist of it so far. Why do I do this to myself.

(echo go back to writing instead of writing a post about your writing)

[10moonymhrivertam]

Idea: Geraskier Spy x Family AU

Dandelion the spy, Loyd Forger=Julian Pankratz, considers Jaskier his real name among them all

Ciri is basically just Anya but with the tweak that there was a half-botched kidnapping of the Princess of Cintra that got her out of Cintra but lost her en route. She doesn’t know unless she’s seen it in a Source vision

Geralt!Yor

[ivegotbreadinmypants]

okay okay, after being heavily inspired by watching Man From UNCLE again, let's just say that this geraskier au is sort of like a reincarnation 60s spy au.

Hear me out

Geralt is one of Kaer Morhen's top agents (its a secret agency tasked to wipe out the worst threats to governments and humankind. The secret agency isn't specifically tied to one country, their agents are hired by governments over the world to wipe out the worst type of threats) and one day he gets the assignment from CIA of all things.

He's hired to finish an underground job because one of their best agents is nearly compromised in an eight month secret mission (Geralt holds back the urge to roll his eyes because really? That's their best agent?)

So then he's told he doesn't have to know who the agent is, all he gets is the information on what needs to be done to complete the mission.

Under any circumstance, Geralt must not fail the mission, even if it means the CIA agent has to take the fall.

So Geralt understands it. Yes, it's a little cold to leave their best in the dust to die but for the sake of thousands of other endangered lives, Geralt gets why he must finish the job.

So then he's in, and then he finds out he's dealing with the worst type of people. Human trafficking, multiple drug rings, a black market for basically anything, and plans of dangerous weapons that should never be seen in the light of day.

Geralt has dealt with each of those things separately, and for a moment he feels out of his depth. But he's Geralt of fucking Rivia, known to have killed a small army on his way out of captivity; The Butcher, they called him.

So soon enough, he finds himself neck deep in fake identities and a web of lies. He slowly makes his way up the ladder, taking down supervisors and getting his hands necessarily dirty.

He's violently efficient enough that one night, he's invited to meet with the higher ups, the ones in charge of the drug rings. An invitation to an elite speakeasy.

So he goes. Sits there around a table, on his second whiskey for the night. He's told there's live entertainment, the best singer they've had at the establishment. And Geralt nods and grins easily like he belongs there, like he isn't planning on spiking their cigarettes in an hour. He waits and waits for the opportunity, and then the lights dim, the curtains draw and there—Geralt can take the moment of distraction to pour the cyanide lined powder into their drinks.

But then a voice rings out, curling over the people like smoke—

And he stops and looks up.

The entertainment of the night stands upon the stage, a mic cradled gently in his hand, lips brushing over it with every smooth word spilling of his mouth, wearing a bowtie and a suit that looks like sin.

Bright cornflower eyes stare into the crowd and Geralt feels a full-body shiver run through him, the words—no, the voice, that voice—resonates deeply within him, pulling a thick string in his body taut and tight, pulling and tugging until Geralt has no choice but to keep looking at him, listening to him.

Because he knows him. He knows him.

He keeps staring, unable to tear his eyes away no matter how hard he wills his body to because there's no way he should recognise the man but he does, he does and there's a haunting hollow pit within him, pushing him into the hole to the point he's free-falling and fuck—

He knows him.

And the empty abyss within also tells Geralt that he lost him.

His eyes roam over the man's face, body, something twinging with recognition at the sight of his tall, lanky body, but it also pinches with the empty air in the man's hands, feels like he should be holding something, nimble fingers playing over the fretboard—

Geralt swallows hard when those blue eyes dance around the room and they stop on his. The man's voice barely catches in the middle of his performance, but his eyes stop, staring, focused back at Geralt with the intensity of a hot camp fire—

Tell me, why even bother setting up a camp fire when you can wave a hand and do it in a second?

The voice of the man in utterly enchanting, enrapturing Geralt in a vice he doesn't even know if he wants to get out of—

It's like ordering a pie and finding out it has no filling.

Geralt loses his breath, the tight rope in him coming loose when the corner of the man's lips quirks up, keeping his gaze steady, still singing with immeasurable passion.

The man beside him guffaws, slapping his shoulder with amusement and the fog in Geralt’s senses recedes, shaken out of... whatever the fuck that was.

They tell him Geralt’s not the first fan their singer has had and they offer him a chance to meet him face to face.

Geralt agrees.

They bring him to the back of the establishment, giving him and their entertainer privacy.

Geralt can feel him through the door, something in the air vibrating with unseen energy.

Then the door opens without Geralt needing to knock and a slender hand pulls him inside.

The second their skin made contact, Geralt chokes, intense power rocking through his body and

You're the witcher, Geralt of Rivia

It's one night bodyguarding your very best friend in the whole wide world, how hard could it be

Well, who knows, maybe someone out there will want you

She saved your life, Jaskier, I can't let her die

We could head to the coast, get away for a while

If life could give me one blessing—

"Jaskier," he breathes, cracks lining the edges of his heart with unrelenting grief

Brilliant blue eyes stare up at him, widened by shock and relief and everything Geralt can't even imagine Jaskier has felt after the dragon hunt, after everything.

Then Jaskier slaps a hand over his mouth, leaning in and pressing a finger to his own lips, signalling him to be quiet. Geralt is silent, but he can hardly hold back from gripping the sides of Jaskier's suit and breathing in the scent of sandalwood, flowers and—

"In this room and out of it, my name is Edwin," he whispers, his blue eyes desperately searching Geralt's, fingers almost digging into his chin.

Geralt furrows his brows, squinting at his bard—at the performer and quietly hums, questioning.

What does he mean his name is—

Geralt's eyes go wide, his heart plummeting.

Jaskier smiles but the sight is saddened, and Geralt finally sees the exhaustion and pressure and worry weighing heavily on Jaskier

Fuck.

Jaskier is the CIA agent.

The man leans in, hand still pressed over Geralt's mouth, and he utters, lips brushing against his ear, "I'm guessing you're the agent they sent in to finish the mission."

Geralt's eyes search the room, looking for anything that would tip off a bug. Because Geralt hates the idea he might be adding onto the risk of Jaskier's cover getting blown.

"You're compromised, aren't you?" Geralt quietly says once Jaskier's hand moves away. The man nods, curtly, eyes hardening. He chuckles darkly. "Had to clear up my trail, get rid of any evidence."

A small smirk makes its way to Jaskier's mouth, and fuck, it reminds Geralt of the many times Jaskier would shamelessly flirt with everyone and everything and Gods, he didn't know he missed it until now.

"Just like you taught me, Geralt." And Geralt huffs a small laugh, the memory of painstakingly explain to Jaskier the importance of clearing their tracks when hunted.

Gods, Jaskier is holding him, pressing up against him, smelling the same way he did in their other life—

And Geralt can't find it within himself to let go, melting protectively against Jaskier.

He can hardly breathe because he's here, he's here

And he'd be damned if he's letting any of the bastards get their hands on his bard.

Geralt changes tactics, changes the mission.

He doesn't care if the mission will go sideways, he doesn't care if he'll have to burn the entire organisation down to the ground himself because—

Under any circumstances, will he ever let Jaskier get hurt again, whether it be by his words or anyone's hand.

Cue every espionage romance clichés there is.

Having to kiss in public to get rid of suspicion?

Hiding in small closets, chest to chest, just as a guard walks past the door?

A moment where Jaskier has to seduce his way out of trouble and Geralt being unbearably jealous?

Geralt getting close to death and Jaskier getting super emotional just before Geralt wakes up?

Competence kink? Geralt quickly finds out that Jaskier is rather handy with knives. Jaskier says he always wondered why it came so easily to him when he first trained in the CIA, and Jaskier reveals that in their other life, his bard already knew how to wield daggers like Geralt did with his silver sword.

All yes.

It ends with Geralt and Jaskier saving the world by a hair and ending up as partners when Jaskier resigns from the CIA and applies for K.M.

[jotiko]

I need Jaskier singing Holding out for a hero but it's more melancholy (like the beginning of the song in Shrek 2 but it never really gets upbeat)

he doesn't sing it in public, because he was composing it while traveling with Geralt and it was supposed to be fun and happy and cheeky but then The Mountain happened and now he only sings it to himself when he really misses Geralt and hates himself for his inability to move on this time from his infatuation (he feels a bit better when he down playes his feelings for Geralt)

[on-a-lucky-tide]

The year is 1267. It’s the first phase of the Second Nilfgaardian War. Geralt is still recovering from grievous wounds sustained during the Thanedd Coup when he hears a familiar voice from across the tavern… 

Geralt sat in a small village just north of Craag Ros. It was occupied by a mixture of Aedirnian and Rivian soldiers under the command of Queen Meve and King Demavend III. Nilfgaardian forces lingered on the horizon, having already consumed Sodden, Lyria and Rivia. It was only a matter of time before their appetite for conquest required sating again. 

Usually, Geralt tried to stay as far from conflict as he could, but the residual stiffness in his leg and arm meant that he had to seek regular opportunities for rest. Autumn meant colder temperatures and storms, which kindled a deep-seated ache in his bones that he couldn’t ignore. The local residents had fled their village, seeking safety in Vengerburg and Eisenlaan, but it was unlikely their new haven would stay as such for long. 

The mood amongst the soldiers was sombre. They knew they didn’t stand a chance. The Rivians fought on because they had nothing left, and the Aedirnians rallied because they had seen the carnage reaped upon their neighbours. The local inn was filled to the brim; men seeking out familiar comforts even though the cellars were dry and the barkeep long since fled. Geralt nursed a bottle of dwarven ale he’d bought from passing dwarven traders and was just planning his next move when a familiar voice caught his ear.

“These speak of defeat, Ruden.”

Geralt looked up suddenly. Jaskier stood next to an Aedirnian captain with battered armour and tired eyes. Every scuff and dent spoke of battles fought and lost. The bard looked more weathered too. A thick beard hid his angular jaw, his usually neatly styled hair obscuring his eyes.

“Yes, Julian,” Ruden murmured. “We’re to slow down their march so that the cities of Aldersberg and Vengerberg can be evacuated. Nothing more.” Upon closer inspection, the captain looked painfully young. His beard did little to disguise the lack of wrinkles in his face; he could be no older than his mid-twenties, but the war had planted ghosts behind his eyes. “There’s another thing. A personal favour.”

“Anything,” Jaskier’s voice cracked—no, Julian—Geralt’s brow furrowed.

“This letter is for Eni,” Ruden pulled a folded parchment sealed with wax from inside his gambeson. “Her last communication said she was—,” his voice stuttered, the tears unbidden, “—pregnant. The letter contains two names. Nemia for a daughter, Elcien for a son, after my father. Will you see that she receives it? She’s staying with her aunt in Leyda.”

Jaskier took the letter from the young man’s hands and stared at it for a time. Geralt could feel the weight of the future settle upon his old friend’s shoulders and felt the compulsion to move towards him. Yet even he knew he’d be an unwelcome guest in the moment shared between comrades. “Of course, Ruden, even if I have to fight by Emhyr himself.”

Ruden chuckled, with a resigned mirth edged in sadness. “I don’t doubt it for a second, bard. You’re a feral fuck.” A shake of the head. “We ride out in an hour. They want us in position at first light. Our scouts have reported back that Nilfgaard are on the move.”

“Hm, feral, you say,” Jaskier cast his eyes around the tavern for the first time and spotted Geralt almost immediately. The Witcher held his breath and waited. They hadn’t spoken since Geralt’s bitter dismissal in King Niedamir’s mountains. No letters, no chance meetings in cold taverns. The war, training Ciri, survival; it’d all consumed Geralt to the point he had no time to track his beloved bard across the Continent. Because time had permitted reflection, and reflection had yielded truths. Some of them harder than others.

Don’t keep a man with bread in his pants waiting. Geralt wanted those words more than anything—the very first sentence of their story together—or something equally as foolish, to spill from Jaskier’s mouth now. But it wasn’t a young, erstwhile bard that stood before him this time. It was an older, wisened, battle weary man with the weight of responsibility sitting heavy on his back. It shouldn’t have surprised Geralt when an unreadable expression flickered over Jaskier’s face, and then he looked away.

It shouldn’t have hurt either, but Geralt felt something sharp and miserable twist in his chest, and it wasn’t related to the knitbone or conynhaela that had fused his bones together some months before.

Jaskier kicked a chair before him and used it to ascend onto a nearby table. His voice bellowed across the heads of the soldiers gathered beneath the tavern roof. “Gentlemen, I wish to say farewell. I’ve been dispatched to another front, but it has been an honour to ride at your side these past few weeks. And thank you for not throwing too many rotten vegetables, it has been most refreshing,” there was a general murmur of laughter. Geralt could tell that these men, as beaten and resigned as they felt, were quite fond their troubadour. “I have, myself, full confidence that if all do their duty, if nothing is neglected, and if the best arrangements are made, as they are being made, we shall prove ourselves once again able to defend our home, to ride out the storm of war, and to outlive the menace of tyranny, if necessary for years, if necessary alone.” 

Another murmur, a few banged tankards of agreement. “At any rate, that is what we are going to try to do. Rivia and Aedirn, linked together in their cause and in their need, will defend to the death their native soil, aiding each other like good comrades to the utmost of their strength. Even though large tracts of the Continent and many old and famous kingdoms have fallen or may fall to the odious apparatus of Nilfgaardian rule, we shall not flag or fail. We shall go on to the end, we shall fight in Aedirn,” the growls and rumbles of agreement were becoming louder, meeting the rising crescendo of Jaskier’s voice, “we shall fight on the rivers and the oceans, we shall fight with growing confidence and growing strength in the mountains, we shall defend our lands, whatever the cost may be, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender.”

The noise between Jaskier’s words were a roar now. Handfuls of men were on their feet, blades were drawn and held aloft as if ready to rush the pikes and cavalry of Nilfgaard in that moment. They quieted as Jaskier’s hands lifted. “And even if, which I do not for a moment believe, this land or a large part of it were subjugated and starving, then our allies beyond the mountains, armed and guarded by the Redanian army and the Temerian rebels, would carry on the struggle.” A murmur. 

“Just remember you fight for your families, your sons and daughters, some still yet to see their first sunrise. Do not give your lives cheaply, my friends. Let every Aedirnian or Rivian soul come at the cost of ten Nilfgaardians.”  A rumble of ascent, and then he reached down for a tankard passed up to him by Ruden. “I leave you with the words of a poet far more verbose and eloquent than I,” there was a round of laughter and one brave soul called out ‘does such a man exist?’ to another round of chuckles, “Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray. Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light! For the glory!”

Jaskier hopped down from his perch to the sound of raucous applause and cheers. It wasn’t the first such speech he’d given, and it wouldn’t be the last. Words to rouse courage and bravery; to lessen the impact of sacrifice. Jaskier had always been good with words. His words had transformed Geralt’s life; his reputation, his armour, his equipment. Everything had just been better. Why had he never recognised it back then? Why had it taken four years of thinking and reflecting?

The bard left the tavern, and Geralt found himself following. The limp in his wounded leg slowed him, and he ended up calling out as they approached the stables. “Jaskier.”

Jaskier paused with his hand on the wall. “Geralt,” he turned, and even Geralt could recognise the false cheer in his smile. “What a wonderful surprise. Is that a limp, dear friend?”

“Yes, it’s—,” Geralt grabbed his thigh irritably, and stopped several feet away. “Just a poorly healed injury. It’ll be fine come the morning. That was quite a talk.”

“Mm, the power of words can never be underestimated. Why, it was an ill-placed word that started this whole mess over again,” Jaskier looked away. “Is there something I can help you with? I’m afraid my time is short.”

“I—,” Geralt started, and then cut off. “I’ve… missed our talks.”

“Hm,” Jaskier pursed his lips and adjusted the strap of his bag. “As I recall, my words were always somewhat of an irritant. They certainly didn’t serve me well when seeking to ease your burdens.”

“I was wrong,” Geralt bit out, his teeth clenching. “Destiny was demanding I step up, and sometimes it required a mouthpiece I’d listen to. It… it needed you. I needed to hear those words.”

“I had the Continent eating out of our hands,” Jaskier murmured. “I believed it was my destiny to walk at your side.” He sighed and ran a hand through his unkempt mop of hair. “But I was wrong; wrong to push you, wrong to pursue you, to prod you, harangue you. I’m not part of your story, I never was. If anything, I’m just a side character. Comic relief, if you will. Nothing but a burden and a hindrance. I’m just sorry it took me twenty years to realise.” 

“Jaskier—,” Geralt started, but the bard threw up a hand and disappeared into the stable. His horse was already saddled, and he led it out seconds later. Geralt tried again. “Jaskier, I—.”

“No,” Jaskier spat through gritted teeth, his eyes burned into Geralt as they ignited with anger. “Don’t. Go see to your destiny, Geralt. Ignoring it has only caused you anguish and heartache. I’m not the only one you did wrong on that mountainside; I can only hope you’ve made amends there.” He threw himself up into the saddle and steered the horse’s nose north. His legs poised to nudge the animal’s flanks, but he… stopped.

Geralt watched his head drop and his shoulders slouch. The silence weighed heavily, until he spoke finally. “I can’t stay angry,” Jaskier whispered. “Not at you.” The sigh that puffed out of his chest was resigned, and blue eyes turned towards the heavens. “But I can’t stay either. If you’re… perhaps, we could—,” he bit his lower lip. “In three weeks, meet me in Daevon. Do you know it?” 

“I do,” Geralt nodded.

“Good,” Jaskier ran his fingers absently over the body of the lute strapped to the back of his saddle. “We can… talk more.” Another pause as he considered the horizon. “Besides, I have a rather large gap in my memoirs of you. About four years, surprisingly. You need to fill me in.”

With that, Jaskier clicked his tongue and spurred his gelding into a trot, then a canter, down the path. Geralt watched him leave with a heavy heart but resolved to meet him again in Daevon. Jaskier was wrong about his part in the story. Without him, the narrative wouldn’t exist. There would be no Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf; no Lion Cub of Cintra, no Yen at Geralt’s side. Geralt would be just another nameless Witcher on the Path whose story would never be told. 

Geralt turned back to the tavern to collect his bags. He glanced around the emptying tables as the soldiers prepared to ride into battle and their captain, Ruden. A father who would never see his children; never take part in the story of their lives, not even a face to his name; no knowledge of his deeds or his sacrifices. And then Geralt remembered the bard riding north with that letter safely tucked in his doublet. No, not forgotten, not lost. Recorded, retold, sung about. There would be a song for Ruden. Perhaps many songs. His children would hear them, and their children. Ruden’s story wasn’t lost. Not while there was someone to continue and record it.

Despite the sombre occasion, Geralt huffed a laugh as he glanced down the trail in the bard’s wake. Jaskier was right in a way, perhaps; he wasn’t a character in the narrative—not just, anyway—he was the fucking author.

-------

Quite a few inspirations for this piece:

Feral Jaskier headcanons.

“For the Glory” by All Good Things.

We Shall Fight Them On the Beaches by Winston Churchill.

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night by Dylan Thomas.

Yes, it’s been a “Rawr’s brain is all over the place” day.

[camoolla]

Jaskier suddenly turned around on the busy escalator, bright eyes shining from under the brim of his baseball cap, tufts of his brown hair trapped under the brim to curl into his eyes, "Kiss me." 

Geralt frowned under the brim of his own Kaer Moorhens baseball cap, "What?" 

Jaskier resisted the urge to roll his eyes, "Public displays of affection make people very uncomfortable." 

Geralt's eyes widened imperceptibly to anyone other than Jaskier, his nose brushing his, "Yeah, they do." 

Jaskier wasted no time closing the space with his hands on Geralt's cheeks to bring his lips to his. Geralt's mouth was frozen, his soft lips moving tenderly against his, everyone one of his senses full of Jaskier; his shampoo, his aftershave, the rhythm of his breaths, the taste of his mouth- His own hands interrupted his shock as they curled around Jaskier's hips in unconscious want, pulling him closer, and returning the kiss with more intensity than was necessary. Jaskier made a small noise in his throat, half in surprise, but also, his mouth parting to lick gently the seam of Geralt's lip, half in arousal. 

Their target looked away uncomfortably, the blatant PDA bothering him to the point of pushing past the people below him to get off the escalator first and Jaskier pulled away, his hot breath quick in it's exhales, his thumb stroking down his cheek to press gently into the corner of his mouth. He smirked minutely, and Geralt had to swallow the noise in his throat, "Still uncomfortable?

The squeak of the escalator reminded him of his surroundings, but the beating in his heart refused to cease, and he leant forward to mutter in his ear, giving the impression of whispered sweet nothings, "That's not exactly the word I would use." 

Jaskier shivered and Geralt yearned for a genuine moment since the forties of a simpler life.  

They jolted as the escalator hit the ground, separating as the volume of annoyance from the people behind them noticeably heightened, and hurried their way into the crowds of the mall. The memory stick in Geralt’s pocket bumped against his leg and the ringing of bullets ripping through his apartment wall into Vesemir’s darkened form made the heavy knot in his stomach clench; Jaskier’s fingers hooked around his. The knot loosened. 

Let’s find out what the ghost wants. 

[soosdraws]

just a spy and his chatty IT/research agent

[darlingimabard]

Gimme more Spy! Jaskier!

guys c'mon it's canon that he was involved with the Redanian Secret Service (who have their headquarters in oxenfurt btw) (and im not saying wanderlust was the only reason jaskier only taught there for one year but well...)

Gimme Geralt being very confused as to how and why his dainty little bard has so many daggers hidden on him??? Like he can understand the one strapped around his boot, he’s seen Jaskier run from angry husbands, it’s feasible he needs to defend himself sometimes but he’s taking Jaskier’s doublet to wash one evening and there’s a dagger in the puff of his sleeves? And more sewn into a secret pocket??? What The Fuck? He goes back to ask but then he sees Jaskier slowing undoing the knife that’s strapped around his surprisingly muscled thighs and oh wow, huh, he uh, wow okay, he suddenly needs to go deal with another problem...

Geralt is stiffed by some snotty lord somewhere, and when he informs Jaskier of this back at the tavern, Jaskier frowns as he asks for the name of the lord. His eyes light up as Geralt tells him and he bounces out of the tavern telling Geralt that he'll sort this all out, after all he and the lord are old friends. He returns with the rest of the payment later and a smile that’s a tad too sharp, eyes that are a little wild, and well, you see Geralt, he’ll be much more polite now, he just needed a little reminding. Geralt highly doubts that considering the visible disdain the lord had for Witchers but Jaskier is better with words than him and much less intimidating so whatever, he’s got the coin. 

And how does Jaskier know so many nobles? He rolls his eyes and tells Geralt that well, technically he’s actually Julian Alfred Pankratz, heir to be the Viscount of Lettenhove and again, Geralt is distracted again because hold on what?! The fact that this bard who tags alongside him to sleep in the dirt and wash monster guts off him is the fucking heir of nobility baffles him. Cue 6 months of Jaskier becoming very frustrated as No, Geralt, I don’t want to go back, No Geralt, I’m fine, I’m not some delicate flower despite my upbringing, and Yes, Geralt, I want to be with you and not in some boring castle, I ran away from there when I was 14 for god’s sake. It’s not until much later that Geralt comes back to his original ponderings because wait, that actually doesn’t explain how Jaskier knows all these people, they've never stayed in a court long enough to make connections, Lettenhove isn’t exactly big or that important and Jaskier said he ran away from his family at a young age so he couldn’t have been in courts that long...

Speaking of which, where did he go? When questioned, Jaskier answers Oxenfurt very dismissively which makes no sense because that’s the best school on the continent? Why hasn’t Jaskier mentioned he was a student before? Surely that would be something to be proud of, to brag about? It’s not like he’s as humble as his songs claim, and how could he have afforded it? He says he ran away from his family, cut himself off, but an Oxenfurt education is expensive, Geralt knows that at least, so how did a runaway 14 year old boy with nothing to his name pay for it?

Geralt is just so confused™ and done™ and look, he has Jaskier, even after those things he said to him on the mountain. Jaskier who loves him, cares for him, is gentle with him and honestly that’s all Geralt cares about now.

So he almost just passes it all off as Jaskier just being Like That™, the man is stubborn, knows how to get what he wants and surprisingly feral, but then Yennefer shows up as they’re travelling with Ciri towards Kaer Morhen, and she cares a lot more than Geralt about his bard doesn’t make any fucking sense. Geralt mutters a comment one night about how Jaskier might as well be a hedgehog with all the sharp knifes he has tucked away on him and Yennefer’s eyes snap to the bard sitting with Ciri across the campfire, telling her the story of Duny’s curse. She very stiffly asks Geralt what he means by that and Geralt quietly lists off all the daggers hidden on Jaskier’s person, ending his list with a mention of how Jaskier tended to have to run away from angry spouses and had some training as a noble in the stabby side of things. Yennefer only stares at Geralt in disbelief because What The Fuck Geralt, nobles are trained in swordsmanship and jousting, they fight with haughty ideas of honour and glory not fucking hidden blades under sleeves to strike without warning. She asks Geralt where Jaskier is from and he replies Lettenhove but mentions how he ran away to follow his dreams of being a bard as a young boy. This only results in Yennefer grabbing his hand and dragging him off further out of earshot, Jaskier being distracted regaling Ciri with the story of her parent’s wedding.

“Geralt, I need to know, where exactly did Jaskier go when he left home, where did he go to study to be a bard?”

Oxenfurt, why was Yennefer acting so strange? Her eyes were wide and her breathing was shaky.

“Look, it’s not common knowledge and it took me years to find out but the Redanian Secret Service, they’re...well they recruit young and have an eye for talent, and their headquarters-”

“What does this have to do with Jaskier, Yen?”

“Geralt, the Redanian Secret Service, their headquarters, they work out of Oxenfurt Academy.”

[geraskierficprompts]

Prohibition!AU Geralt is muscle for a prominent mob family who own a high-class speakeasy. Jaskier is the resident lounge singer (who is also a spy for a rival mob family or the fbi). Opportunities for lots of angst and betrayal.

[blooodymoon]

First of all, Fucking Legend !

Second, pls imagine a Geraskier AU with that premise

[dear-galileo]

you spin me right around

modern au!geraskier, written for the @thepassifloradiscord fic and art swap!

8.5k words, mature

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“I am going to learn magic,” Jaskier declared into his phone. Triss, on the other end, made a noise of surprise. 

“Really? What brought this on? Oh, I can recommend you to one of my professors-”

“I am going to learn magic, and curse Valdo fucking Marx so that whenever he goes to sing, his dick gets smaller.”

“Is that his middle name?” Triss asked. Jaskier paused, already lost in a conversation that he had started. “Fucking? Valdo Fucking Marx? I can’t tell if his parents had great confidence in him, or simply hated him.”

“I’ve made the word cuck in my phone autocorrect to Valdo.” 

“I can’t imagine how often you text the word cuck.” 

“No, but it’s quicker to type that than Valdo Fucking Marx.” Jaskier said easily. Triss laughed, before composing herself. 

“Why are you cursing him? Or should I say, what did he do today?” 

“He’s into painting .” Jaskier revealed dramatically. He was currently walking through one of the many courtyards of Oxenfurt University. Having spent the past two years at this school studying music previously had granted Jaskier zero shame regarding freshmen overhearing his phone conversations. Let them be entertained, lord knows they need it. 

“He’s-” Triss hesitated on the other side of the phone. He could imagine her sitting at her desk in her dorm, twirling a pencil in one hand, her phone in the other. “He’s into painting? Isn’t that a good thing, since he would drop out of your music classes?”

“No.” Jaskier corrected. “He’s into painting alongside his music- he’s making art to represent his songs.” Triss hummed, and Jaskier could tell from the tone that she wasn’t getting the full picture. “Not only has he stolen three of my songs from freshman year and mangled them with his bloody fucking [__], but he’s making toddler-level finger paintings based off of them.” 

“I might need photographic evidence of these.” Triss said. 

“Already sent one to you. It looked like he shat himself on top of a canvas and called it art. I couldn’t bear to stand around and listen to his lecture on what it represented, so I got out when I could.” 

Triss’s laughter echoed through the phone as she checked the photo. “Dear Gods,” she said, putting the phone back to her ear. “That is truly terrible. But how is this magic worthy?” 

“He’s trying to one up me! I bet you he overheard that I am going for that internship at the record studio, and is trying to beat me out.”

“How would bad artwork help him in that case?” 

Jaskier threw up one of his arms, even though Triss couldn’t see him. A freshman with an overloaded backpack stared at him as she walked by. 

“Fucked if I know! But I refuse to let this slide by, I’ve got to do something.” Triss groaned. 

“No, every time you say you’ve got to do something, you end up doing something ridiculous that very much does not need to be done,” she complained. “And half the time you drag me into it.” 

“How many times must I apologize for setting you up on that fake date with him? I didn’t know he was going to spend the entire two hours at the movie talking.”

“You can stop apologizing when I can smell movie theater popcorn without cringing. He tried to hand feed me popcorn , Jask, that’s not something that one could easily forget. He has sweaty hands.”

“Which is why you were never sent on another spy mission- in fact, I gave up the spy missions sophomore year. That’s growth!” 

“If I didn’t know how much you genuinely hated this man, I would say just fuck him and get it over with,” Triss said with a barely suppressed sigh. This was a discussion that they have had before. 

“Getting back to the point-”

“Oh, goody, there’s a point,” Triss said dryly. Jaskier gasped loudly into the phone, just to get his feelings of betrayal across. 

“Rude! You are spending too much time with Yen. She’s a bad influence.” 

“I actually think that she would help you with the penis shrinking spell, if you gave her a good enough reason to.” 

Jaskier considered this for a moment, but Yen still scared him, even after half a year of her dating Triss, his best friend. 

“No, okay. I have to find another medium, and be better at it than Valdo is.”

“You are going to make shitty paintings?” Triss asked. There was movement on her side of the phone. “Oh- Yen’s here, I’m putting you on speaker.”

“Is he complaining about that greasy fuck again?” Yen’s voice distantly said. 

“Yes! He is!” Jaskier called. Yen’s scoff could have been a general one, or because of Jaskier talking about himself in the third person, it was too hard to tell through the phone. “Listen, so I can’t get into painting, a, because that’s too obvious, I would be blatantly stealing his idea, and b, that’s stupid.” 

“I doubt Valdo owns the market to making paintings based off of songs,” Triss started to say. 

“Hush, my lovely beautiful friend,” Jaskier cut her off. “I was going to try wood carving, but then I remembered the last time I held a knife in the kitchen, I managed to nearly chop off my entire hand, so that’s out. That means ice sculptures are out as well. Perhaps sandcastles?”

“We live nowhere near a beach.” Triss reminded him. Jaskier cursed, scowling. He was on his way across campus, back to his car to get to work, so he didn’t have the time to run back to his apartment to scavenge through his closet of abandoned crafts.

“I have an idea,” Yennefer said, suddenly very close to the phone. “Pottery.”

“Like the art of weed?” Jaskier asked, before remembering he was speaking to a very powerful mage who could create a portal to him to smack him, if she so wanted. Thankfully, Yen chose to ignore the joke. 

“Sculpting with clay. I have an old friend who runs a pottery studio in town. They do open house nights every week, where people can try to make their own pieces.” 

“It’s not a castle made out of fine sediment, but that might still do the trick.” Jaskier declared. “Triss, please kiss your lovely girlfriend for me as a thank you.”

“Please do not give me a kiss from Jaskier,” Yen said to Triss. “Is your problem solved? May I spend time with Triss now?” 

Jaskier made kissy noises into the phone until Yen got the point and hung up. A few minutes later, a text from Triss with an address and a name came through. It was just downtown, and thankfully not too far from his apartment. The name provided was Geralt, which the website unhelpfully gave no more information about. 

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