#florist! geralt | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

geraskierficrecs · 2 years ago

Text

End of the Year Updates (2022)

Thank you all for hanging around and continuing to be amazing friends, writers, artists, and readers for the Witcher fandom! You have all been incredibly supportive and make me so glad that I am a part of this too. To that end, I’ve collected all the fics I’ve completed or are in progress this year.

Links and descriptions under the cut.

In-Progress:

The Sin Eater

“He doesn’t have much time now,” the demon observed, “Even Witchers need oxygen. This is your only hope of saving him.”

Jaskier’s face went firm and determined, turning back to the creature with no sign of his earlier hesitation.

The demon looked amused. “Are you sure he’d worth giving up so much?”

“All that and more,” Jaskier whispered.

Then he stepped into the circle. ————————— To save Geralt, Jaskier lets himself be possessed by the demon he was hunting. Will there be anything left of the bard for Geralt to save?

The Fixer

In the world of the wealthiest members of society, there is only one man who you call when there is a problem that needs to disappear. Whether it's killing off your competition or ensuring you have the blackmail you need to keep your enemies at bay, Jaskier--better known as Dandelion--has made a living getting his hands dirty.

So, when the offer comes to track down the missing child of a billionaire CEO, Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier is more than happy to go undercover and get the information they need to ensure Geralt doesn't become a problem.

But what happens when he starts to have feelings for the kind, smartass barista and his strange family?

Completed Multi-Chapter Works:

Lark of My Heart

“What do I smell like to you?”

Geralt looked up from where he was sharpening a blade to frown at the bard. “What?”

“You’re always sniffing around me,” Jaskier explained with a smile that covered the sheepish blush on his cheeks, “And I've read that Witchers have a keen sense of smell so tell me, what do I smell like to you?”

Home. ___________________________

After the mountain, Geralt faces the reality of what his temper has destroyed and tries to pretend like he's fine with that. (He isn't.)

Call Me Sunshine (Jaskier/Eskel)

It becomes a habit to keep an eye on the front door every Wednesday. Jaskier told him after the second week that he tries to grab the flowers on his lunch break. It’s how he found the shop in the first place.

“I tutor a kid near here,” he tells Eskel as he watches the florist trim the thorns off some David Austen roses. “He’s a menace, but his mom wants him to learn piano and is willing to pay for all the grey hairs I’m getting.”

“You play piano?”

“And a few other instruments. My favorite is the lute.”

Eskel grins a little. “A lute? Do you moonlight as a bard too?” ___________________________

Or, a florist AU with enough misunderstandings and pining to fill an entire season of a CW show.

Dying for You (Again and Again)

By his understandably shoddy memory, Jaskier had died over 1300 times since he first drew breath several hundred years ago.

Somehow, none of those deaths ever seemed to hurt as much as the dreams of Geralt. ___________________________________

Or, the Old Guard AU no one asked for, but I wrote.

With My Last Breath

Jaskier is tortured by Nilfgaard--angst, whump, and fluff follow. In that order.

Wolves and Men

There was a challenge in his expression. A dare for Geralt to cast him aside once more.

Like he had on the mountain.

If life could give me one blessing—Geralt shook his head to banish the memory of those vicious words. Words he’d had plenty of time to regret in the years since Jaskier had walked away. Since Gerat had sent him away.

“Jaskier,” he whispered, voice thick. ________________________ Jaskier thought he'd found the perfect alpha to follow for the rest of his life only to be cast aside. He should have known better--the White Wolf always hunts alone.

If Wishing Made It So

Geralt stared down into the ravine and the glittering rocks below and wished the rumors of the Witcher’s missing emotions were true. He wished for a lot of things, then, staring down at the smear of blue silk stained red.

None of them came true. ———-

On a hunt that goes bad, Geralt is forced to imagine a world where his bard will no longer walk at his side.

Series:

Villainous Universe

Series featuring a supervillain Jaskier falling for the superhero Witcher, Geralt of Rivia. Contains explicit content as well as all my favorite angsty tropes.

The Sentinel/Guide Verse

Jaskier was half way through a lackluster rendition of one of his least popular songs when his world went static.

In his ears, a foreign heartbeat thundered, ragged and wounded. It felt as though his lungs had gone sideways with the sensation. Even the air itself tasted like it was charged with lightning, bright and bitter as ozone. Deep in his gut, he felt something urging himself forward, pulling him like some invisible string towards an unknown destination.

Something brushed across his senses, rough as tree bark, and sinking into his skin to crawl like ants beneath. He froze, eyes darting around the room like he could spot whoever it was that had sent his senses scrambling against the hard earned shields he was always careful to maintain. In his hands, his fingers faltered, melody disappearing beneath the wave of wrong that felt like it was choking him.

The answer was simple--and impossible.

There was a Sentinel here.

The Full Cops and Robbers Verse

An enemies to lovers story revolving around a charming, mysterious thief and the cop that is absolutely done with his shit.

The Witcher Soldier Verse

Geralt barely managed to slam the pommel of his sword up in a glancing blow that shattered the metal latch holding the Soldier’s mask in place. The Soldier rolled into the movement with a dancer’s grace and came to his full height just as easily. For a moment, his hands reached up to run over the exposed skin, before he slowly turned to face Geralt once more.

The Witcher froze in a mixture of horror and near-frantic hope.

He stared into the eyes of a dead man and whispered, “Jaskier?”

The Soldi--the bard frowned at him in confusion and spoke with a voice rough with disuse,

“Who the hell is Jaskier?” ___________________________

Or, the Winter Soldier AU.

A Light in the Dark Series

One will rise And one will fail, But none can escape destiny’s call. ____________

Jaskier is a bard with a secret. For all the world knows, he strolled onto a stage ten years ago and made a name for himself as the sidekick of the White Wolf. But what came before? And will he be able to escape destiny's call?

A Three Part Series Exploring My Take on a Feral Version of Jaskier

One Shots:

Star Crossed

“It’s not true.” The man’s voice is rough as a knife over gravel and is short enough to make the bard falter at his tone. It takes him a moment to realize he’s referring to the story he’d told as part of the festival.

“You don’t believe in the lost lovers?” he asks, offended to the very core of his romantic heart. He stands a little straighter to glare up at the larger man. “I’ll have you know that my story comes from the works of Master Essi herself--she knew the lovers herself. It's the foundation story of our whole town and this festival! How can you say the story isn’t true?”

A shadow crosses over the stranger’s face and eyes that flash gold flick away from the bard to stare at the trees and the lonely hill. Despite himself, the bard feels his heart ache at the grief in his expression.

“He didn’t come back.”

Burn For You

Jaskier twitched helplessly as the women filed out of the mill and left him where he was bound on the floor. He arched his back slightly, trying to see to where the fire was slowly creeping from the bed to drip onto the floor. It hit the edge of the floor and he closed his eyes, going limp with exhausted pain.

His body ached as he lay on the ground, bleeding. The floor was cold at his back and noise came through staticky and broken like a voice through a waterfall. He could just vaguely hear footsteps thudding toward him accompanied by shouting. Still, his vision refused to focus, and the only thing he could identify around him was the flickering red of the flames reflected in the cloud heavy with rain that would never be enough to stop the fire spreading through the mill.

All he could hope was that the smoke killed him before he began to burn.

Gilded With Blood (Aiden/Lambert)

Aiden watched the slowly growing pool of his life’s blood dripping onto the red rock below him. His chest rose and fell in ragged little gasps made awkward by the sword still pinning him to the earth. Pain was far away now and he knew only the cold chill of death would replace it.

As his eyes closed, he couldn’t help but think:

This was going to destroy Lambert.

A Gentleman’s Guide to Seducing Your Fiancé

It is a truth universally known that Geralt fucking hated Viscount Julien de Lettenhove.

Their rivalry was the stuff of legends, the sort that drew the eye and the idle gossip of members of court. It ensured that each time they came within five feet of the other, the entire room would go still, watchful. Eager. For what could be more delicious, more exciting than a fight between the Crown Prince and his new betrothed?

I’ll Sleep Forever Next to You

“Geralt?” Eskel’s voice distracts him from his spiraling thoughts. “What’s wrong? Where’s the lark?”

Geralt seizes on his brother in arms, near desperate for someone who might know what to do. “He’s sick. He’s, he’s coughing, feverish--”

“How long?” The older Witcher looks like he does before battle, steady and fierce.

“I, I’m not sure.” Abruptly, Jaskier’s early night has all manner of new meanings. Had he been feeling poorly that long? His brow furrows. “He sounded like he was having trouble breathing last night.” _____________________________________

Or, three Witchers freak out over a bard with a cold.

Don’t Leave Me

Jaskier’s hands tighten around Geralt before slowly losing their grip, spasming where they fall limp. “Ger--geralt--”

“Don’t you dare,” he snarls back, “Don’t you dare try to give me your fucking goodbyes. You are not dying.”

“S--silly man.” Jaskier’s smile is full of painful fondness. “Would you fight death for me?”

Geralt swings him up into his arms and nearly weeps at the sound of familiar hooves running in his direction. “Every. Fucking. Time.”

Between One Heartbeat and the Next

Please. Please, not this.

Don’t make him listen to Jaskier’s voice beginning to strain in a way it never did on stage even as he continued to reassure Geralt.

“It’s okay… Geralt, you’ll be okay.”

Not without you.

“You’re...gonna be fine in...just a little while.”

You won’t.

“ ‘s...not...so bad...like going to sleep.”

Nononononopleaseno

Waiting for the Sun

Jaskier was dying.

The confirmation came with each cramping, shallow breath and spots of grey drowning out the mottled stone walls that would become his tomb. After all the years he’d spent terrified of this moment, it was almost anticlimactic to realize he was too tired now to fight back any longer. He was dying. The world would continue without him.

Blood dripped from his fingertips and formed erratic patterns against his own skin. Over the sound of his racing heart he could hear footsteps and murmured voices that made him want to vomit or rage in fury.

They were watching him. He didn’t need to look up into the window to see the strange faces twisted into cruel smiles, pleased at his suffering. He hated them.

Not a Damsel, Not in Distress

The one closest to him raised his trembling sword with a panicked expression at the unexpected violence. “Wh--what the fuck? You’re just a bard.”

Jaskier’s smile was more a baring of his teeth, made more alarming with the blood sprayed across his skin and clothing. “Your first mistake was believing that.” _____________________________

Geralt and Jaskier are ambushed by a pack of mercenaries. It was really their fault for believing the yellow eyed Witcher was the only threat.

Frantic

Geralt was hanging limply against the rough bark. Two daggers kept him pinioned like a bug in place and left dark streaks of drying blood down his arms and exposed chest. Silver hair was matted close to his forehead from a sluggishly bleeding would that left golden eyes hazy and unfocused. Worst still were the bruises littering every inch of exposed skin like a collage of torment.

His Witcher had been tortured.

———

There was a name for the emotion burning like fire in his blood, eating away at the dandelion bard that had made his living seeking the pleasure of others. A simple phrase that barely encompasses the new tension in his bones and made his mind focus with singular, violent intent.

Wrath.

A Blade in the Back

There was a flicker of movement at his side and he felt something slam into his unprotected flank. Magic blew past him, ruffling his hair but leaving him unharmed. Surprised by the sudden attack, Geralt stumbled and whirled to face whoever had hit him.

Only instead of a beast, he saw a bard.

Jaskier clutched at his chest where a dark stain seemed to spread over his heart. His bright eyes stared at Geralt helplessly, mouth opening and closing without sound. Geralt stared back at him in shock until Jaskier dropped heavily to his knees, collapsing like a puppet with his strings cut. ___________

In the midst of a battle, Jaskier is hit with an unknown curse. All at once Geralt finds himself locked in battle with the only man he wants to protect.

The Sweetest Poison

“And what do you want in return? Your freedom? Your safety?”

Jaskier didn’t flinch from her scorn and Geralt could see his knuckles go white with the force of his grip around the small vial. “Save him.”

The mage stared at him for a beat before letting out a burst of laughter that echoed off the wall like the flutter of vultures wings. “All this trouble for the Witcher?” she asked incredulously, “Tell me, boy, do you really think he would do the same for you? That he cares at all what happens to the bard who follows after him like a lost puppy?” She stepped forward, confident as a soldier preparing his death blow. “Oh, I know who you are, bard. I watched you trailing after the Witcher, eager for every scrap of affection or interest he’ll toss your way. I’ve seen the way you look at him.”

Jaskier was breathing heavily now, jaw clenched tight enough that Geralt could see the muscles fluttering with effort.

“Were you hoping this ill-conceived rescue mission would be enough to make him finally notice you?” she murmured with a mocking smile, “Poor little bard--always singing of love but never truly experiencing it.”

Into the Jaskierverse Additions:

Interlude: The Thief

Jaskier opened his mouth to cry out, to scream, anything, but it was ripped away by the jagged shards of reality tearing through him. It was the djinn all over again. The agony of watching Geralt disappearing beneath the rubble of the house. The first chill that always signaled Geralt returning to Kaer Morhen. The pull of power and magic that he now recognized as the moment before a spell hit and he was left with no option but to wait for the pain to hit--helpless in the whims of an unnatural force.

Only this time there was nothing to stop the raw power that seemed determined to unravel him down to his very soul.

was

remade.

Not Without You

“Geralt?” he finally whispered, a fragile hope in the familiar word.

“I’m here,” Geralt said as he crossed the room to stand next to the table. “I’ve got you.”

Kicking aside the corpse of the mage, he fumbled with the restraints until he was able to release Jaskier’s arms and legs. They twitched weakly against him and Geralt ran his hands over the rough shirt and pants Jaskier had been dressed in, searching for any other injuries.

“Geralt?”

“It’s me,” Geralt soothed. “They won’t hurt you again, I promise.”

Jaskier’s hands found an anchor against the front of Geralt’s shirt and he shuddered violently. “I thought...I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.”

#geraskier #my stuff #geralt/jaskier #geraltxjaskier #jaskier/geralt #whump #angst #Angst with a happy ending #modern au #completed story #ao3feed #masterlist #feral jaskier #badass geralt #badass jaskier #lambert/aiden

74 notes · View notes

thedovecollector · 2 years ago

Text

A list of my WIPs. Some started from prompts on my old blog, tho there were a lot of prompts that got lost when it was deleted. CWings listed as needed before the item on the list.

I have plans to write/finish all of these Eventually, and am willing to answer questions if anyone has any. Also open to prompts

These are all The Witcher, tho I have several RPF WIPs as well

Will be posted to tumblr and AO3

Beastiality. Eskel has always had a deep connection with wolves, especially with a pack that lives near Kaer Morhen. He visits them in the spring

Dubcon, monsterfucking. Jaskier wakes up on a damp rock that juts out in the sea, and something starts touching him.

Dubcon/noncon. Jaskier was trained as a witcher in the bear school, but he is slighter and weaker than the average bear and many of the others take advantage of this.

Monsterfucking. Dandelion accidentally stumbles across a fiend late at night

Dubcon, monsterfucking. Dandelion was turned into a werewolf, and due to past experiences has a grudge against witchers. His new life has turned him cynical and cruel, and despite the fact that Geralt promises to help him Dandelion does not believe him.

Necro. Jaskier is a florist with debilitating anxiety, who frequently makes deliveries to Geralt’s funeral home

Psychological abuse. The Continent doesn’t view witchers as much different from humans, but Jaskier convinces Geralt that witchers are viewed as monsters - and that only Jaskier could love him

Noncon, torture. If Jaskier was left in Rience’s clutches for much longer than in canon

Noncon, torture. Another Rience/Jaskier idea along the same lines as the last

Noncon, monsterfucking. A modern AU where Lambert is a werewolf, and accidentally stays too late at Jaskier’s house the night of the full moon

Beastiality, curses. Geralt is cursed to be attracted to canines. Jaskier is a shifter whose form of choice is a dog, and he comes across a witcher who lets another dog mount him

Will Not be posted to tumblr - only on AO3

Julian is woken up after having nightmares, and Geralt decides to tire him out by fucking him so he won’t have anymore

De-aged Jaskier

Beastiality. Julian and Valdo are brothers, and Valdo catches Julian with the family dog - and he can’t get it out of his mind

Noncon, AOB. Witchers, as alphas, are given away to rich omegas, and Geralt is given to Jaskier.

Geralt and Julian

#dead dove: do not eat #dd:dne

1 note · View note

ao3feed-gav900 · 2 years ago

Text

Secret Santa 2022 - The Cults Server

https://ift.tt/6sv3jBh by tallula03 Words: 314, Chapters: 2/4, Language: English Series: Part 26 of Fandoms Events - 2019-now Fandoms: Detroit Evolution - Fandom, The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: M/M Characters: Upgraded Connor | RK900, Gavin Reed, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion Relationships: Upgraded Connor | RK900/Gavin Reed, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion Additional Tags: Valentine's Day, Florist AU, Florist Nines, Florist Upgraded Connor | RK900, Northern Lights, Kaer Morhen (The Witcher), Kaer Morhen Watchtower

#AO3feed #dbh #reed900 #gavin reed #rk900

1 note · View note

pillage-and-lute · 3 years ago

Text

Pins and Needles

Part 1(here), Part 2

There is not enough cute little AU’s in this fandom. (There’s never enough) so I decided to be part of the solution, rather than the problem. Fluffy flower shop/tattoo shop au. +Bonus Bookstore owner Yenneferm (eventually)

---------- 🌷 🐺 🌷----------

The storefront across from Geralt’s family shop had been empty for months. It used to hold a small accounting firm but the firm had merged with another one and the little show was empty. It was a good space, Geralt had thought. The windows maybe weren't big enough for a display for, say, a bakery, but it was a good spot.

And, of course, it was right across from Morhen Floral Arrangements, the best florist shop in the whole damn city.

Geralt contained a proud smile as he trimmed a sunflower stem. He’d worked hard to get his shop to where it was. Just recently they’d bought a greenhouse on the edge of the city and Eskel was happily buying as many types of rare and tropical flowers as he could find at various nurseries all around the state. Vesemir, who insisted constantly that he was retired, was keeping the rosebushes in the greenhouse at a painstaking state of perfection.

Along with their partnership with Aiden and Lambert’s event planning business, everything was perfect. Ciri was busy with school, ice hockey, and judo, but picked up weekend shift in the shop when she could. Geralt had life completely figured out.

The fact that they were going to have new neighbors wasn’t going to throw a wrench in anything at all. Nope. Geralt wasn’t anxious or anything.

Eskel had teased him about the vulture-like way he’d been watching the workmen in the shop across the street. They’d been putting in new floors and counters, painting the walls, even changing the front door.

Today, a pretty blonde and a svelte but hirsute man were struggling up on two small ladders, trying to put up a new, eye-peelingly yellow, awning by themselves.

Geralt swore under his breath as he saw them struggling. He had his phone in-hand in case of an emergency as the ladders rocked. Why on earth hadn’t they just had the workmen put up the awning too instead of these obvious amatures?

The man’s ladder rocked again and Geralt set down his sunflowers with a thud. One or both of the idiots was going to get themselves killed. He crossed the street at double speed, eyes locked on where the ladder was set on uneven pavement and rocking dangerously.

Above, the man reached back, trying to stretch the canvas around the corner of the frame. His heel slipped off the step of the ladder and he let go of the awning with a shout.

Geralt dove the last couple feet, catching the man bridal style before he could hit the ground.

His eyes were so, so blue.

His shirt was also undone just unethically low, giving more than a glimpse of the chest hair Geralt had noticed, even from across the street.

He set the man down hurriedly and stuck out his hand. “Geralt,” he said.

“Gesundheit,” said the brunette man, grinning.

“No, I mean, it’s my name,” Geralt rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. The man laughed.

“I know, I’m Jaskier.”

“Gesundheit,” Geralt returned, just to hear that lovely laugh again.

“So,” said the blonde woman, stepping off her ladder. “You’re the florist?”

Geralt shrugged, “that’s me.”

“How lovely, we’ve been dying to meet you. I’m Priscilla.”

Geralt looked up at the awning, still flapping awkwardly. It read Pins and Needles Body Art.

“Tattoos?”

“And piercings,” the blonde, Priscilla, said. “I do the piercings and any American Traditional or Japanese Traditional tattooing, Jaskier does all the rest of the tattoos.”

“Priscilla did her apprenticeship in Japan,” Jaskier explained, obviously proud of his maybe-girlfriend.

“That’s very nice,” Geralt said, at a loss. “Can I help you with the awning?”

With Geralt steadying the ladders, the awning went up in no time, and Geralt was given a very warm thank you by Jaskier which made the back of his neck heat up.

He spent the rest of the day feverishly putting together bouquets and very much not thinking about pretty tattoo artists or their frightening and talented girlfriends.

---------- 🌷 🐺 🌷----------

This will be a little series, but I don’t know how long or how frequent the updates will be.

#tattoo and florist au #the witcher #geralt of rivia #florist! geralt #jaskier #tattoo artist! jaskier #piercer! Priscilla #geraskier #eventual yennefer x priscilla #disaster dad Geralt

131 notes · View notes

artistsfuneral · 3 years ago

Text

Tattoo Shop/Bakery AU where....

Geralt is a heavily tattooed baker, who always hangs out at Jaskier's Tattoo Shop and Jaskier is a Tattoo Artist, who only has a couple of tattoos but a very pronounced sweet tooth and always hangs out at Geralt's bakery.

Naturally people assume Geralt is the tattooist and Jaskier the baker.

Naturally Geralt bribes Jaskier with cookies and small cakes, while Jaskier bribes Geralt with new tattoo ideas, so they can spend time together.

Naturally the florist next door and the coffee shop owner have a bet going on how long it will take for Geralt and Jaskier to kiss.

#the witcher #artistsfuneral about the witcher #geraskier #jaskier #witcher #geralt #coffee shop au #florist au #tattoo parlor au #bakery au

581 notes · View notes

saltysalmonella · 3 years ago

Photo

A quiet moment at the shop.

From the Florist AU

#the witcher #geralt of rivia #florist au #i.... had forgotten i had drawn this #found it while cleaning #woahw #saltyart

85 notes · View notes

firefly-graphics · 3 years ago

Text

Florist-Tattooist AU Dividers

Please like and reblog if you use or save.

Requested by @gracie-rosee

Dividers List

#Tattoo #Flowers #Tattoo Shop #Flower Shop #Tattooist #Florist #Divider #Tattoo Divider #Flower Divider #geralt of rivia

32 notes · View notes

the-bard-followed-the-witcher · 5 years ago

Text

Okay but like:

The flowershop/tattoo artist AU but Jaskier is the tattoo artist and Geralt is a florist (maybe still with a dangerous side job idk)

And it’s not exactly obvious that Jaskier is an tattoo artist because he wears his shirts that cover everything up. And Geralt in the beginning thinks it’s odd that a tattoo artist doesn’t have tattoos except for one little musical note on his wrist but then as they grow closer and finally Geralt comes around to ask, Jaskier takes off his shirt and shows him his back

And Jaskiers back is covered in tattoos

Beautiful colourful notes drag themself over black wings that reach over his shoulders and the notes falling together with stars reach all the way down to the band of his trousers. And it’s breathtakingly beautiful.

And breathless Geralt is as he slowly follows each line with his fingers, and Jaskier shivers under the touch, the softest touch from the roughest looking person.

The roughest looking person who just so happens to be a florist

A florist that touches his flowers so very gently and careful as if they were made from porcelain. And he touches Jaskier, Dandelion, his little flower, the same way too. Because he is precious. Beautiful. Gorgeous.

And Geralt cherishes him. In every way.

Still he is suprised to see, a week later a new tattoo on Jaskier wrist. A place where everyone can see. The sigil of a wolf, Geralts sigil. It’s safe to say, Geralt was close to tears.

Barely a month later, Geralt asks his boyfriend to make him a tattoo too, not any tattoo, no. What Geralt asks for is a yellow flower, the most beautiful flower he knows.

A dandelion, right where his heartbeat stood.

Jaskier did cry.

(Can someone do me the honors and draw this please???)

405 notes · View notes

maythefandomsbwithu · 4 years ago

Text

Hey I decided to post this on Tumblr cuz why not

tattoo artist Geralt/florist jaskier 1

It was just another day for Jaskier. It was June and business was booming. Or should he say blooming, he was a florist after all. The wedding season was well under way and orders were coming flooding in. He couldn’t wait for Ciri to finish her exams so she could help out in the shop more but for now he had to manage on his own.

He owned a quaint little shop called Dandelions Aren’t Weeds in a reasonably quiet part of town. It didn’t seem like much to an outsider but to Jaskier it was his pride and joy. He spent his days tending the plants and catering to his customers’ needs, often with a fresh bloom tucked behind his ear. He took pride not only in his business but in his appearance as well, dressing in fine, brightly coloured clothes that complimented his complexion, with just a light smear of makeup, the boldest on a day to day basis being a dark streak of liner under each eye. He looked as pretty and delicate as the flowers he sold but appearances could be deceiving.

The only thing out of the ordinary in the past weeks was all the work that had been going on the renovate the shop next door. Rumours had been doing the rounds of what it would be when it was finished. By the look of it, the one that proved to be right was that it was going to be a tattoo shop. Jaskier hoped it wouldn’t be off putting to some of his customers with more…traditional values. By the looks of it, it was due to open any day. He hoped his new neighbours would be nicer than the last ones. He sighed and continued putting together an arrangement. He had too much work to do to worry about that right now.

Another few weeks passed and Ciri finished her exams. He was definitely grateful to have an extra pair of hands; his niece was marvellous. She’d been helping him out at the weekends while she was in school. He’d decided to take her on full time over the summer, he needed the help and she was saving for a car. He definitely appreciated having someone to talk to with Ciri’s sharp wit and general good humour. Most people didn’t realise they were related though, they couldn’t see past Ciri’s blond tresses and paler skin. However, if one observed her carefully, her mannerisms were similar to Jaskier’s and she had the same glint in her eye just before she made a smart-assed comment.

The tattoo shop next door had opened too, a steady stream of people going in and out. Jaskier has yet to meet his new neighbours though. Oh well, he presumes they are busy with their opening week or something like that. He’d bump into them eventually.

Jaskier had been doing a bit of tidying up one evening. Even though they technically weren’t closed because the door was still open, it was too late for any more customers so he had sent Ciri to go and get them both a coffee from the café down the road and popped in his headphones. He hummed and bopped his way around the floor, cleaning as he went. He was so distracted that he didn’t notice the man who’d come in until he walked straight into him.

Jaskier snapped out of his day dream to find a man who was basically a blonde, tattooed superman standing in his flower shop. His long hair was drawn back from his face in a bun, accentuating a jawline Jaskier could cut himself on and, holy shit! Did he have gold eyes?!? He thought this stranger looked fantastic. Oh shit, he was staring at Jaskier, he should probably snap out of it and say something.

* Bad Jaskier! * He internally chided himself. *No ogling! *

“Can I help you mister….?” Jaskier asked, clearing his throat and yanking out his headphones. He had to be professional.

“Geralt, Geralt Rivia. I own the tattoo shop next door.” The man, Geralt, offered his hand. Jaskier noted then that if he wanted to, this guy could probably break his entire hand. However, while firm, the handshake bore no ill intent. Good.

“Ah! My new neighbour! Julian Alfred Pankratz, at your service, but I prefer Jaskier.” He gave a flourishing bow. When he said he’d bump into the neighbours eventually he hadn’t meant literally. “So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your presence this evening?” *Nothing like laying it on thick Jaskier* he thought to himself, inwardly cringing at his own eagerness.

~~ time rewind~~

Geralt was relieved the day that White Wolf Tattoos finally opened for business. The renovations and paper work of starting out on his own had caused him mountains of stress. But he had known it would all be worth it once he got up and running, and away from her.

Her being his ex-girlfriend and ex-boss Renfri. He knew from the start that mixing work and pleasure would be a bad idea but at the time he’d been too loved up to care. Everything had seemed fine at the start but she gradually showed her true colours, growing more manipulative and egotistical as their relationship progressed. It was stifling. He had no reprieve, even when they’d split, he’d see her at work every day. He couldn’t take it anymore.

That was how he came to leave Cursed Princess Tattoos to start up on his own. Well, not completely alone. He had Yennefer. Granted, she was his ex too, a long time ago, but they’d parted as friends and continued as such ever since. She had been his rock during the aftermath of his break up with Renfri. She let him live with her until he found his feet again, she’d become his business partner and done the lion’s share of the paper work while he nursed his broken heart. He didn’t know what he’d do without her.

It had taken months but his shop was finally about to take off, he could feel it. A number of his old clients had followed him when he’d left Renfri’s shop, insistent that he was the only reason they ever went near the place. There were new clients too, as expected in a new part of town, that flocked to his shop. Thanks to Yennefer, social media pages had acted as some of his best advertising. He was finally making a real name for himself.

The first week had flown by. He and Yennefer had been run off their feet constantly but he assumed things would calm down after a while. Thankfully a short period of calm came on Saturday evening, his last appointment finished sooner than expected so he could take a break and do some exploring in the neighbourhood. Yennefer assured him she could hold the fort, allowing him to take a walk.

As he’d wandered out of the shop his gaze fell on the florist’s next door. A client he had consulted earlier that day had mentioned wanting a floral piece, a flower shop was a great place to find inspiration. At first, he’d thought they might be closed but the door was open. As he entered his eyes fell on the most gorgeous man sweeping the floor. His brown hair looked soft and artfully styled; a yellow flower perched behind his ear. His dark eyeliner only emphasised how bright the blue of his eyes was, matched by his stylish blue shirt and jeans. He was stunning. Geralt was smitten. He’d realised long ago that he liked men and women but he hadn’t come across a man that he found so attractive in years.

He snapped out of his daze and cleared his throat hoping to get the man’s attention. No response. He tried again and still nothing. He stepped forward to tap the man on the shoulder only for him to turn around and walk straight into Geralt’s chest.

They stood for a moment, both dazed and staring at each other before the florist broke their silence.

“Can I help you mister…?” He’d trailed off while he yanked is headphones out. *Ah,* thought Geralt, *that’s why he didn’t notice me come in.* Geralt immediately offered his hand.

“Geralt, Geralt Rivia. I own the tattoo shop next door.” He shook the florist’s hand firmly, a hint of a smile going unnoticed in his eyes. He generally kept a very stoic outward demeanour.

“Ah! My new neighbour! Julian Alfred Pankratz, at your service, but I prefer Jaskier.”

So that was his name. Jaskier. He quirked an eyebrow at the flamboyant bow he received and resisted the urge to scoff. This was a lively one, he could tell. He practically radiated positive energy.

“So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your presence this evening?” Jaskier asked him. Another eyebrow quirk, his presence was a pleasure then, was it?

~~~Back to presnt~~~

“I came for inspiration.” He stated simply. It was the truth. He watched Jaskier’s face split into a grin.

“Oh really?” the florist, “In that case, I can very much help you. How do you want me?” With that he struck a ridiculous pose and made what Geralt could only presume he thought to be a model face, which was more of an exaggerated pout. He could only scoff and roll his eyes at the antics, ignoring any possible subtext of the latter comment.

“For a floral tattoo.” He clarified, watching as Jaskier’s smile never faltered.

Okay, maybe Jaskier was being a little too flirtatious with the ‘how do you want me’ thing but in his defence, Geralt never even flinched, merely rolled his eyes and moved on. He’d take that as a good sign.

“Ah! That I can help with too.” He gestured grandly around the shop. “See anything you like the look of?” He knew he certainly did, watching Geralt like a hawk as he had a glance around the shop. That man was something to behold.

Geralt shrugged, and moved to browse around the shop. If he was honest, the thing he most liked the look of was the owner, not his wares. He pushed that thought from his head and thought about his client. What had they discussed before?

“Sunflowers.” He said aloud, “My client said something about sunflowers.” He cast his gaze over the room searching for a bright flash of yellow, but although there were plenty of yellow flowers, there seemed to be no sunflowers. He frowned.

Jaskier noticed the frown. “I’m sorry. They’re quite popular at this time of the year, we sold out some time this afternoon.” It was just then that a flash of brilliance struck his brain. “Although, we’ll be getting more in first thing on Monday morning, if you would like to come by then?” He suggested, trying to mask the eagerness in his voice at the opportunity to see the tattoo artist again. He hadn’t known the man for more than five minutes but he felt drawn to him, despite the intimidating aura he gave off. He wanted to get to know him.

Geralt gave a deep, non-committal “Hmm.” As he glanced around the shop once more, before returning his gaze to the florist. He considered it. His client definitely said sunflowers specifically. And he certainly would not be opposed to seeing Jaskier again. He almost shook his head physically as he rid himself of that thought. *Stop it, its far too soon after her to be thinking about someone in that way* he reasoned with himself. While yes, the man was attractive, he knew nothing about him. They might have absolutely nothing in common. He might be just another heartbreak waiting to happen. With his stupid grin, and his stupid hair and his stupid, pretty eyes. *Fuck. * He needed to get a grip. Still, it wouldn’t do any harm to come back, with his customer’s best interests in mind, of course;

“Sure, I can find time.” That’s it Geralt, play it cool. He didn’t need to go rushing into anything. Besides it was basically just business and there’s no harm in being civil to the guy. Who knows, they might end up friends. Well, maybe acquaintances.

Jaskier tried to quell the traitorous swell of hope in his chest that he might have something resembling a chance with this guy. But, hey, if not maybe they could be friends at least. But for now, he must remain calm.

“Great, we open at nine.” He beamed. He glanced at the clock on the wall. Was that the time? “Also, we’re technically closed at the minute so….” He trailed off hoping Geralt would take the hint. While he would love to stand and chat all night, he had things to do.

Geralt answered with another “Hmm.”, this one more amused than the last. The smaller man certainly wasn’t behind the door. Normally most people would be more intimidated and would not try to get rid of his in such an unsubtle way.

“I’ll see you Monday then.” And with that he turned on his heel and left without another word.

“Nice meeting you!” Jaskier called after him with a wave. He was dumbfounded by the tattoo artist next door. He was so brooding and mysterious. A man of very few words and yet Jaskier was hanging off every “hmm”, let alone word. He needed to snap out of this. It was just a silly crush. And he could only imagine the stick he’d get if Ciri copped on. Speaking of, where was she with his iced latte? He needed to cool off.

#the witcher #the witcher netflix #geralt of rivia #geralt x jaskier #geralt z rivii #jaskier #tattoo artist/florist au #geraskier #tattoo geralt/ florist jaskier

90 notes · View notes

doyawitchering · 5 years ago

Text

Where are the flowershop x tattoo artist aus where geralt runs the flowershop?

#where are they????#geralt of rivia #geralt x jaskier #geralt x yennefer #geralt x jaskier x yennefer #omg jaskier is a piercer and yen is a tattoo artist #and they both are competing for the cute grumpy florist across the street #friendly competition i love yen x jask friendship too much for hurt feelings #geralt has two hands #idk how this works out but they all end up together somehow in the end #i want it so bad

41 notes · View notes

geraskierficrecs · 4 years ago

Text

New Jaskier/Eskel Story

I wrote a story featuring a truly massive amount of misunderstandings and pining between a florist Eskel and the musician who loves him. Check it out here.

Here’s the description:

“You play piano?”

“And a few other instruments. My favorite is the lute.”

Eskel grins a little. “A lute? Do you moonlight as a bard too?” ___________________________

Or, a florist AU with enough misunderstandings and pining to fill an entire season of a CW show.

67 notes · View notes

d-andilion · 3 years ago

Text

picture perfect

@witcher-bows-and-arrows day 9: wedding

(geraskier, feat. lambert and yennefer, established relationship, wedding planning, geralt has anxiety, hurt/comfort, fluff & angst, 2.2k)

read on ao3

The first thing Geralt hears from his snide little brother when he sits down at the table is, “So how did the big conversation go with Jaskier?”

Geralt doesn’t even get a chance to deflect the question. “Oh, he hasn’t told him,” Yen says with a smirk from her seat beside him.

He glares over at her and she just keeps grinning smugly back. Why did he agree to go out to lunch with Lambert and Yennefer? All they ever do is gang up on him and he’s really not in the fucking mood.

Lambert, unaware (or uncaring) of the crisis occurring across from him, sighs mightily. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“‘Fraid not,” Yennefer replies. “He FaceTimed me an hour ago to get my opinion on flower arrangements. They’re extravagant, by the way. Very attention-grabbing.”

Geralt groans and drops his head defeatedly onto the table in front of him. Of course, they’re extravagant. Probably neon green with fucking sparklers attached, knowing Jaskier.

“This is getting ridiculous, Geralt,” says Lambert.

Geralt doesn’t pick his head up from the table. “It’s complicated.”

It is complicated.

When Jaskier asked Geralt to marry him, he couldn’t believe it. In fact, he stood there gaping like a fish at the ring box for so long, Jaskier had to ask him if he was alright. Stupid question, really. He definitely was not alright.

But he did, eventually, pull himself together long enough to say yes. Then Jaskier cried like a baby and they knocked over the wine from his carefully assembled sitting room picnic when they tried to kiss, completely ruining the blanket they were sitting on.

It wasn’t a very picture-perfect proposal. Jaskier actually forbade any pictures of the evening, citing his post-cry face. But after the mess was cleared up and the ring was actually on Geralt’s finger, they both laughed until they cried. Geralt wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Their newly-affianced bliss lasted about a week. Eight days, to be exact. That’s when Jaskier pulled a colossal, overstuffed binder from the depths of their closet and slapped it down on the kitchen table in front of them. It was filled to the brim with magazine clippings and printouts of everything wedding-related—food, flowers, place settings, stationery, venues, and a dozen other things Geralt couldn’t keep track of. Years of planning the perfect day, condensed and collaged.

Geralt hasn’t known a moment’s peace from his anxiety since.

In hindsight, he probably should have seen this coming. Jaskier is perhaps the most dramatic, theatrical person on the face of the Earth, and he was raised among the wealthy to boot. Of course, he would want a grand wedding. He’s probably never been to one that wasn’t completely over the top.

Geralt can appreciate some of it. It’s not as if he wants to get married in jeans and t-shirts. He wants it to be nice, and he’s watched enough of those wedding reality shows with Jaskier before to know that it could definitely be worse. But it’s all so… much.

There’s the guest list to start with. Jaskier is determined to invite everyone they’ve ever met and give them a plus one. Then there’s the color scheme which seems to change every three days, and the invitations which have to be on just the right weight of paper, and the menu which has to have just the right amount of variation without overwhelming their hundred guests.

Geralt had been worried about how they were going to pay for it all, but Jaskier’s parents were so glad to hear their son was finally getting married to someone, anyone, that they offered to foot most of the bill. Jaskier isn’t wasting a dime of their generosity.

Over the past few months, Geralt has been dragged to four tux shops, three florists, two wedding planners, seven restaurants, five venues, and an honest-to-fucking-gods calligrapher. They hadn’t even made any decisions yet, this was just the ‘sampling phase’. There were phases.

Everywhere they went, Jaskier asked for Geralt’s opinion and he didn’t know what to say. Sure, fish sounded good and roses looked nice, but he didn’t know anything about this stuff. Jaskier had a thousand-and-one opinions about what would be ‘just perfect’ for their big day. What if Geralt makes the wrong decision? What if the thing he picks isn’t part of Jaskier’s perfect plan?

It’s so clear that Jaskier has been thinking about this forever. He even admitted to putting the first few pages of the binder together when he was sixteen. Jaskier has been dreaming up the perfect wedding day for most of his life and Geralt is terrified of fucking it up.

Lambert clears his throat at a comically loud volume. “‘Jaskier, I, a notorious shut-in, would prefer not to have an outrageous pageant for our wedding’,” he says in his irritating impression of Geralt. “Doesn’t sound very complicated to me.”

Geralt lifts his head from the table. “He’s been planning the perfect wedding since he was a teenager. There’s a binder. I can’t just tell him to toss out everything he’s been dreaming of all his life.”

“So you’d rather be miserable on your wedding day than ask him to tone down his?” Yennefer asks.

“I won’t be miserable,” Geralt counters weakly. She doesn’t look convinced.

“No? Then walking down the aisle in front of a hundred people is all well and good with you?”

Geralt glowers, but he can’t say that it is. That’s his worst nightmare, actually. Even imagining it makes him feel a bit sick.

“Look,” Lambert begins seriously, “I get where you’re coming from, but you having a panic attack in the middle of the vows isn’t going to give him the perfect wedding either. He’d cancel the whole event in a heartbeat if he knew how much all this was getting to you. Just talk to him.”

He’s right of course, the bastard. Obviously, Jaskier isn’t going to leave Geralt over wedding plans, he knows what they have is deeper than that. He just doesn’t want to disappoint him. Geralt’s phone saves him from having to reply, buzzing on the table in front of him. It’s a text from Jaskier. On your way? Geralt’s gut drops like a stone. He completely forgot.

“Fuck, I have to go,” he says, pushing back his chair and tapping out a reply to Jaskier.

“Running from your problems won’t make them disappear,” says Yen.

“I’m not running. We’re tasting cakes.”

Lambert perks up at that. “Can I come?”

“No.”

“Dickhead.”

Geralt doesn’t reply. He turns to leave only for Yennefer to shout “Talk to him!” at his back. Geralt gives them both the finger on his way out.

Geralt is almost excited by the time he gets to the bakery. This has got to be the best part of wedding planning, right? They’re just sitting down and eating free cake for an afternoon. It might even be fun. To Geralt’s dismay, he is disabused of that foolish notion the second he walks through the door.

He’s a few minutes late and Jaskier is already there, sitting at a table while the baker finishes laying out the samples. Geralt was imagining a few options. Chocolate, vanilla, maybe red velvet. He was mistaken. There have to be at least a dozen little squares of cake on the table, and the baker still has a few more on her serving cart.

She notices him lingering by the door and gives him a winning customer service smile. “You must be our other groom,” she says sweetly, waving him in. “Please, make yourself comfortable, we’re just about ready to start.”

Jaskier spins around in his chair and makes excited grabby hands him Geralt’s direction. Geralt grins despite himself at his ridiculous fiance, taking the offered hands and dropping a kiss onto Jaskier’s cheek.

“Sorry I’m late,” he mutters.

Jaskier waves him off nonchalantly. “You’re here now. Let’s eat some cake!”

They do, in fairness, eat cake. A lot of very delicious cake. Which would be wonderful, except for the fact that there’s so much fucking cake. Geralt’s never even heard of some of these flavors. What the fuck is turmeric spice cake? Then there’s the frosting of which there are about a thousand options, and any frosting can be tried with any of the cakes, and of course, they have to pair well with the food which hasn’t been chosen yet because Geralt can’t make a decision on that either.

After every slice, Jaskier asks him what he thinks, if he likes this one better than the last one and if he thinks their guests will like it, and Geralt can tell that Jaskier is getting frustrated with his noncommittal hums but he doesn’t know what else to say. He likes all the cakes, but he doesn’t know which one is the right one. He doesn’t know which one will make everything just perfect.

They get through a little over half the samples before Jaskier drops his fork a touch too heavily onto his plate and smiles tightly at the baker. “Annie, would you mind giving us a moment to deliberate? So many wonderful options!”

Annie’s eyes flick curiously between the two of them, but she keeps smiling and excuses herself to prepare the next round (the next fucking round) of samples. Geralt feels his stomach curl unpleasantly around the mound of cake he’s just eaten. He knows Jaskier is upset. This is exactly what he was trying to avoid and he couldn’t even do that without fucking it up.

Jaskier takes a calming breath. “Geralt, what’s the matter?”

Geralt is almost surprised. Jaskier doesn’t sound angry, or even all that upset. Just concerned. Geralt keeps his eyes firmly on the vanilla-bean-tort-wafer-whatever-the-fuck cake on his plate, even as Jaskier turns to face him.

His reply is barely audible. “I don’t know which cake to pick.”

“What?” Jaskier asks patiently, and something in Geralt snaps.

“I don’t know which cake to pick!” Geralt shouts, startling Jaskier and probably Annie in the back too. “I don’t know if it should be a sponge or have lemons, or what a fucking ganache is! I don’t know what the place settings should look like, I don’t know if we should serve chicken or pork, I don’t know which tie to wear, or what flowers are the least tacky, or how many we should seat at a table.

“I don’t— It’s too much. I don’t need to stand up in front of a hundred people in a suit that’s double our rent and eat a cake as tall as I am. I love you. I want to be with you forever. Is that… is that not enough?”

A few moments pass in audible silence before Geralt chances a look at Jaskier. His eyes are wide with shock and his mouth is agape. Geralt expects him to shout back, or maybe just leave, but he doesn’t do either of those. Instead, he collects Geralt’s hands from where they’re clenched in his lap and holds them tightly.

“Oh, darling, of course, that’s enough,” he says earnestly. “That’s more than enough. This is why you’ve been so down lately, isn’t it? Why didn’t you say anything?”

Geralt just blinks for a moment. He thought he’d been hiding his unease relatively well, but looking back now, he feels like an idiot for believing Jaskier didn’t notice. Jaskier’s known him longer than anyone besides his brothers. They’re getting married for fuck’s sake, of course, he noticed.

“I didn’t want to ruin your perfect wedding,” Geralt admits miserably.

Jaskier tugs their joined hands into his own lap. “My perfect wedding is you, Geralt. So long as I get to call you my husband at the end of it, nothing else matters.”

Geralt is, for a few seconds, completely overcome with the love he has for the man beside him. How did he get so lucky? What did he do to deserve someone so perfect for him? Here, in the middle of a cake shop with way too many samples in front of him, Geralt’s breath is snatched away.

“Look,” Jaskier begins when Geralt doesn’t reply, “I won’t pretend like I wasn’t looking forward to all that ridiculous pageantry and showing off in front of everyone we know. I was. But I could never be happy with any of it if you were miserable, no matter how perfect the centerpieces are. This is your day, too.”

“So, the food and the flowers?” Geralt asks tentatively. Jaskier smiles.

“Don’t think about them for another second. We haven’t put deposits down on anything yet, we can do something small instead. Just family. Our family.”

Geralt can feel his anxiety dissipating already. Getting married in front of a hundred acquaintances has been turning his stomach for weeks. Swearing to love Jaskier for the rest of his life in the company of their patched-up little family, however, warmed him to his core.

“And the cake?” Geralt adds with a grin.

“Well, that’s the easiest bit of all,” Jaskier assures him, bringing their hands up to his face to press a kiss to Geralt’s knuckles. “Whichever one you like best.”

Geralt finds he already knows which one he’s going to choose, but he pretends to ponder for a moment anyway. “I want the vanilla one with chocolate icing.”

“That sounds perfect,” says Jaskier, and Geralt can tell he means every word.

bows and arrows masterlist

#geraskier #geraskier fic #geraskier fanfic #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #witcher bows and arrows #witcher valentines #my fic #mine

161 notes · View notes

kittynannygaming · 3 years ago

Text

This is so cute!

A little gift for the lovely @thingr2 <3 I hope you have a most wonderful day, friend

word count: about 2.5k

ship: Geraskier

summary: Geralt receives flowers from a secret admirer. What a stupid gift to give him. (modern au/ flowershop au)

Roses and Cornflowers

Geralt’s face is a stone mask as he stares at his doorstep, only cracking the tiniest bit when he bent down to pick up the bouquet, just as he had done almost every day since he had moved to this town to open his new shop almost two months ago.

“A gift from a secret admirer,” Lambert had called it with a shit-eating grin when Geralt had been stupid and drunk enough to tell his brothers about the flowers he kept finding on the doorsteps of his shop.

Eskel had rolled his eyes at Lambert but then he had shrugged and said that that wasn’t the worst start to living in a new place.

No, Geralt supposed for most people -unlike him - receiving flowers would be a nice thing. But then again, most people - unlike him - didn’t own flowershops.

#Author: flowercrown-bard #Title: Roses And Cornflowers #The Witcher #One-Shot #Reading Recommendation #Modern!AU #Florist!AU #Florist!Geralt #Florist!Jaskier #Courting #Geralt of Rivia #Jaskier #Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier #Geraskier

68 notes · View notes

samstree · 3 years ago

Text

my sunlight, sunlight, sunlight (2/4)

Geralt shows up in Oxenfurt as promised after Jaskier has a particularly rough night. Apologies are made.

(3k, rated teen, read on AO3)

Jaskier meets five more people who are like him.

The first week, he greets Marta with a nervous smile, sits amongst the rose bushes and simply listens. On the fifth week, he starts to speak. The sun is hanging low when he waves goodbye to each of his friends and leaves the florist’s garden with lighter steps. He passes the luthier’s shop, doubles back, and steps in.

The tender skin on his fingers no longer hurts as much, but he rubs them nervously when ordering a new lute.

The Sandpiper must look the part.

The ships sail from Oxenfurt’s coast to Cintra every other day, and it’s starting to look suspicious to stay in The Beekeeper well into the night if he isn’t buying any drinks. So, Jaskier begins performing.

Essi helps him stretch his fingers afterwards, showing him a few neat tricks here and there. They stand by the dock, talking about nothing and everything as the ships disappear into the night. It’s only when he completely loses sight of them can Jaskier let go of the tension in his shoulders.

A man tries to buy him a drink one night. He declines.

It happens again, and again.

Summer is near the end when the rejection wavers. It’s only a slight pause. Two days later, a woman drapes her hand on his elbow and tilts her head towards the bar, and Jaskier hesitates. He stares into her eyes for a moment, meeting the clear sign of lust and curiosity, and feels a yes by his lips.

Jaskier bolts right out of the door.

The lute bounces on his back when he hurries down Oxenfurt’s cobblestone street, his lungs burning and heart pounding. He feels bad for waking up Marta so late into the night, but the florist does not seem to mind. She makes a cup of mint tea while a shiver runs down Jaskier’s body despite the lingering summer heat.

He tells her of how he wants—has been wanting for weeks whenever an offer of ale is made to him, how he sometimes doubts at night if he can go back to the casual way of drinking before, how his skin buzzes when his friends pour each other a cup of mead at dinner.

She doesn’t interrupt. She never does.

“When will I stop wanting?” Jaskier asks, tired to the marrow of his bones. “When will it get easier?”

The sadness on her face is a palpable thing, one born from the same tiredness carried over from years ago. “It doesn’t,” she answers, “but we must go on.”

And he has to make peace with this reality, one where the battle never ends. Jaskier isn’t sure he can do that over one night. It feels like grief in a sense: acceptance is somewhere down the road. He just doesn't know how to get there yet.

In the end, Jaskier falls asleep on a settee in Marta’s living room with his lute by his feet. He wakes up even more tired, but relief washes all over him. He lets out a long sigh like he just escaped with his life—getting too close to drinking tends to have that effect.

That’s when he hears what woke him up in the first place:

A deep voice, conversing casually with Marta, rumbling faintly from the garden and reaching Jaskier in a murmur. There’s a laugh in it, reserved, lazy, kind.

Geralt.

Jaskier can’t help saying the name. It’s the same name his heart sings with every beat. He pads across the room and stops at the entrance, the thin blanket still wrapped around his shoulder, and here Geralt is—safe and relaxed and speaking softly with Marta with his back to the doorway, utterly oblivious of Jaskier’s presence. They are sitting at the small table set up right next to the lilac trees, where the seven of them gather on Sundays.

Seeing Geralt so at ease, Jaskier thinks very briefly that he might still be dreaming.

It’s Marta who notices Jaskier first, and Geralt follows her gaze. He stands immediately, his hands hanging awkwardly at his side.

“Jaskier.”

There’s so much joy in a simple whisper of his name.

“Hi,” he answers, feeling raw and exposed.

For a while, they just look at each other. Jaskier drinks in the sight of his witcher and wishes time could stop for him, so he can memorize everything that has changed in his absence, every new scar, every thin line by his eyes…

Marta clears her throat.

“We were just talking. Your witcher here is a curious one. He knows so much about my plants. I never knew a few of them also have medicinal effects, isn’t that a wonder?” She takes another look between them and tiptoes past Jaskier, her hand on his shoulder reassuringly. “Anyway, you have the garden until I have to open the shop.”

“Thank you, Marta,” Jaskier says absently, still looking into Geralt’s eyes. The sun is rising high in the sky, and the gold is nearly blinding.

“I was lucky.” Geralt is the one who breaks the tension. “Got here last night but couldn’t find you at the academy. The maid at The Beekeeper said you went this way, so I asked around.”

“You found me.”

“I found you.”

It occurs to Jaskier that last night was a long time ago. He cocks an eyebrow. “Did poor Marta find you sleeping outside her house like a lost puppy?”

The way Geralt looks away tells Jaskier all he needs to know. “Well, you invited me here,” he says.

“The fall is weeks away. I bet it was still hot sleeping outside.” Jaskier finds stubbornness suits him a lot better than yearning. “The leaves have not turned color yet. If you want to see Oxenfurt covered in gold, there’s going to be a wait.”

“I’ll have to stay, then.”

It comes so casually Jaskier’s breath catches in his throat.

“What about Ciri?” He takes a step closer and watches Geralt’s body gravitate towards him in return. “And Yennefer? I thought you were traveling elsewhere.”

Geralt practically melts at the mention of Ciri’s name.

“They are safe, Jaskier. Don’t worry. She’s learning so fast, and growing up so quickly. An old dreary witcher is not always what she needs. They are traveling south together. Yen was looking forward to it too.”

“Oh.” Jaskier is so happy for them. “That’s good, right? I’m glad.”

“It is.” Geralt takes another step until his hand rests at Jaskier’s elbow and slides down to catch him by the wrist. “I’m sure the leaves will be nice, but I also came here for something else.”

He holds up Jaskier’s palm and presses a small box into it.

“It’s a xenovox,” Geralt adds. “I have an identical one. If you talk to it, I can hear on the other end. Yen also made a charm for it, so I can open a portal whenever I need, linking their locations.”

Jaskier turns the small device over and observes the carved patterns on it. It’s a lovely thing, an even lovelier gesture, but some parts of him doubt it. Geralt, showing he cares? the darkest part of his mind whispers. Your ears deceive you.

“I talk to it, and what, you’ll come running?” Jaskier jokes, because if it’s a joke, it won’t hurt as much. “The White Wolf, at my beck and call?”

But Geralt’s eyes gleam with seriousness. “Yes, of course,” he answers unthinkingly. “If you need me, say the word and I’ll be there.”

Jaskier opens his mouth but finds no retort. He closes it with a snap to not look like a fool.

“Marta was also telling me how you ended up here.” Geralt pauses, watching Jaskier’s reaction, but all he does is wait for the blow to land. Nothing Marta knows is a secret to Geralt. Jaskier can’t feel any more shame than he already does the day he left Kaer Morhen.

He is ready for Geralt’s disappointment, however it may break his heart to pieces again.

But he isn’t ready for what Geralt ends up saying.

“She told me how strong you are, and how much progress you’ve made,” Geralt adds as Jaskier stares in surprise. “I know I don’t have any right to be—it’s all you and you alone—but I’m proud. Jaskier, I’m so proud of you.”

The sun is too bright. That must be the reason the world is blurring in front of Jaskier’s eyes.

“That’s not what you’re supposed to—” Jaskier trails off for the tears in his voice. “It’s not what you’re supposed to say.”

“Oh? What am I supposed to say?”

Geralt is giving him that look, like he’s only indulging Jaskier with his silly questions.

“You only say practical things, Geralt. You need my help; you want me to teach Ciri politics; you could use an extra pair of hands. You don’t—you never tell me you’d be there for me, and you never say you’re proud of me.”

“Don’t I?” Geralt hums. “I wanted to. Always. Just didn’t think I could.”

Jaskier chuckles tearfully. “Then why now?”

There’s a moment of silence. Geralt sucks in a deep breath and closes Jaskier’s fingers around the xenovox. He’s contemplating the answer, his brows furrowed adorably and Jaskier wants to smooth it away. Too bad Geralt is holding his hands.

“You are strong. I will never doubt the strength that hides under your gentleness again.” Geralt says finally. “But when you can’t be, you have me. I’m here today so you know I’m with you in this, all of this.” He gestures to Marta’s garden. “If one day you can’t stay strong all by yourself, just ask, and I’ll be there. I can’t fight this battle for you, but I can listen. Whatever you need to say, whatever you want to sing, I will listen, Jaskier. And I will find the strength for you.”

The xenovox hurts the scars on Jaskier’s fingers, but he pays no mind. He holds on to the small box and cradles it to his chest. Tears are streaming down freely when Geralt pulls him into an embrace, steady, patient, and lets Jaskier cry into his neck.

“Damn you, witcher,” Jaskier sniffles. “I miss the days when I was mad at you.”

“Hmm. I certainly don’t.”

Despite everything, Jaskier laughs, and snot and tears are staining Geralt’s shirt. He is such a mess, but Geralt is here. It’s the first step, he reckons. He remembers the awkward tension in the flower shop whenever Sonia visits, and he remembers watching it fade slowly, painstakingly, day by day and week by week.

It gives Jaskier hope, that they can heal too.

That night, Jaskier takes Geralt back to his room and offers him mint tea.

“You smell like it,” Geralt comments, taking a sip. “It’s nice.”

“Oh.” Jaskier scoops another spoonful of honey and mixes it in his cup. “Didn’t know you could notice.”

“I always notice.”

There are more meanings behind those words, and Jaskier realizes that Geralt has been eyeing at his fingers since the garden.

“Apparently not, if this took you so long.”

He means it as a tease, aiming at the easy banter they used to exchange over Geralt’s heightened senses and his smugness. Jaskier used to think the witcher should be taken down a peg, lest he thinks too highly of himself for his sharp eyes and noses. A humble human can only do so much.

But the comment has tensed up Geralt’s whole body, making the crestfallen expression return to his face. A pang of regret hits Jaskier, souring the honey in his mouth. For all he likes to compare Geralt to a puppy, he sure doesn’t enjoy kicking one.

“Never mind. It—I—” Jaskier ends up spluttering, his fingers curling around the cup, hiding from Geralt’s sight. “It’s nothing, just a scratch, really. Nothing to concern yourself with.”

“Will you show me?” Geralt asks, carefully.

Jaskier nods, sits next to Geralt and puts down his drink.

Geralt works efficiently, digging out salves and balms from his pack and flattening Jaskier’s right hand over his knee. His brows are pinched so tightly Jaskier wonders if he can crack a walnut there.

Jaskier hisses when the salve touches his scar.

“Sorry,” Geralt murmurs, his focus unwavering. His fingers work like magic despite the initial stinging, massaging the delicate skin there gently. He blows on it from time to time, the coolness making Jaskier flinch. “Don’t move.”

He catches Jaskier’s wrist and rubs small circles there, his sword calluses rough and sending a shiver down Jaskier’s spine.

“I think that’s enough,” Jaskier suggests—because he doesn’t want to embarrass himself.

“I’ll need to apply it twice a day. There shouldn’t be any pain in a few weeks, but the scarring is old, so it may not disappear fully.” There’s guilt on Geralt’s face again, and Jaskier gives him a stern look. “Don’t give me that look, Jask. I’m not one of your students.”

“I will look at you however I want. You were being mean.”

“I just traveled all the way here to see y—to see Oxenfurt, because you asked, and I’m being mean?”

“To yourself.” Jaskier tugs at Geralt’s hand to get his point across. “Also, you need to apply it twice a day? Can’t just leave the jar with me?”

Geralt freezes like a child caught reaching for the cookie jar. The lighting in Jaskier’s quarters isn’t good, but there's no mistaking the dust of pink that slowly appears on the witcher’s cheeks. Oh, Lambert and Coën are going to love this if Jaskier ever tells them. Shame he won’t; this moment will belong only to him.

“It’s your dominant hand, um,” Geralt clears his throat. “It won’t be convenient.”

“Dominant hand?” This man is too ridiculous when he’s trying to be sweet. Jaskier’s eyebrows shoot up in amusement. “Alright. My thanks.”

Geralt’s eyes drop to where their hands link, his lashes obscuring his emotions. Jaskier’s pulse thrums under his fingertips, fluttering nervously.

“I shouldn’t have,” Geralt starts, his head dropping low. “That day in the kitchen. I shouldn’t have tried to kiss you.”

Jaskier’s heart quickens in his throat. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not.” Geralt shakes his head, letting out a sigh. “You were hurting, and I didn’t even know. I thought we were alright. You came back to me, after all, and you always come back to me.”

“That’s the crux of it, isn’t it?” Jaskier smiles sadly. “I always do.”

“It’s what friends do, you said. I shouldn’t have taken advantage of it.”

There’s a sinking feeling in Jaskier’s stomach. “Are you saying you regret it?” He swallows. “Do you regret asking for more of me? Of us?”

Jaskier isn’t sure if he will ever recover if Geralt’s answer is yes. Luckily, he doesn’t need to find out.

“Never.” Geralt cradles Jaskier’s hand in front of his chest. He presses a kiss to his knuckles. “If there’s one thing in life I can never regret, Jaskier, it would be you. I just learned that, for now, it’s time for me to be a friend in return.”

“I see the word is sticking with you,” Jaskier teases.

“Well, it's got a nice ring.”

Geralt watches him, earnest and patient, and Jaskier lets out a relieved exhale.

“It’s all I ever want, Geralt. I just never dared to hope.”

“Please do, if you still could,” Geralt says softly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The next morning, they wake up in Jaskier’s too-narrow bed together. The morning light paints the room serene and quiet.

Jaskier has fallen asleep on Geralt’s arm, but the witcher greets him with the softest look, even though his arm must have lost all feelings. He always looks soft now. There is a tiny smile on his face whenever he sees Jaskier.

And Jaskier may have tested it a few times while they are getting dressed, popping up in front of Geralt to see his eyes crinkle at the sight of him each time.

“Come on, we have a city to see.” Jaskier gestures at the door, offering an arm for Geralt to take, which he does eagerly.

They walk down Oxenfurt’s busiest market with their arms hooked together, and Jaskier insists on buying the hairbands that Geralt won’t stop looking at but refuses to admit he likes. The silver embroidery against the dark material suits him too well. Jaskier has to look away before his face gets too warm at how dashing his witcher looks.

Marta greets them at the shop, and gives Geralt a very gentle talking-to about the perils of sleeping on the street. They leave with a small bundle of forget-me-nots, and Jaskier tucks one under Geralt’s hairband.

To Jaskier’s delighted surprise, Geralt offers to sit at his lectures.

“Aren’t you tired of hearing my voice all day?” Jaskier realizes the mistake as soon as the question leaves his mouth.

“Now who’s being mean?”

Geralt’s eyes narrow in the dangerous way that makes Jaskier’s breaths come out hard, and the danger morphs into mischief. Oh no, he’s planning something.

“Geralt,” Jaskier warns but it falls on empty ears. Geralt catches him by the forearms and a tickle fight descends upon him in full force, drawing out a surprised yelp. “No, Geralt!”

They laugh, stumbling into each other, and by the time Jaskier arrives at the nearly packed lecture hall—decidedly late—there are still tears in his eyes and a grin on his face. He refuses to look at the corner where Geralt sits, but finds himself failing at the end of the class.

The forget-me-not is still in Geralt's hair, bringing a speck of blue to the moonlight silver. It's a bit crooked, so Geralt has to right it with his fingers once in a while to keep it in place.

#geraskier #geraskier fic #alcoholism #sobriety #alcoholic jaskier #hurt/comfort #geralt apologizes #and geralt tries to do better

139 notes · View notes