#geraskier confession

[tielmamon]

I HAVE RISEN

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 121

In place of August Ninth, Promptapalooza 2/ Geralt has brought Jaskier to Kaer Morhen, and Jaskier couldn't be happier. It's on the second night there that he says it. Jaskier wakes up and Geralt has left their room. He ignores him the whole day. Jaskier thought that- What with Kaer Morhen- And how close they seemed- Maybe he could- It's pointless... Jaskier waits in their room for Geralt to come back, but he never comes back that night. Jaskier stayed up all night waiting for him to return, but he never did. Jaskier sleeps away the day, since he stayed up all night. He wakes up around dinner time and decides to skip it. What if when he goes down for dinner, that's when Geralt decides to come back? He'll be alone again. But he doesn't come back. Again. The door eventually opens and Jaskier looks over with pure elation only to dim when he sees it's Lambert. "...Uh, Birdie, you haven't left your room." "Our room." "Right. Are y'sick?" "...I'm waiting for Geralt to come back. He hasn't come back ever since I said it." "Said what?" "...I- I told him I love him. And he left. He won't come back. I thought we finally were close enough. I thought after all the years he'd be able to hear me out. I knew deep down he'd never love someone like me, but I didn't think he'd just... Abandon me for the whole winter." Jaskier sighs and turns to look at Lambert, only to see him crying. "Lambert?" Jaskier asks in confusion. "Fuck-" Lambert whispers in horror, before scrambling out of the room.

Lambert finds Geralt and shoves at him like a true brother. "Go find your bard, Asshole!" "What?" "He's in your room sobbing over how you left him cause he's unlovable!" "What!?" "Go fix it! I'll see you next winter." Geralt's brow furrows. "What do you m-" "I have to leave. I have to see someone. I'll tell you all about it next winter- We- We'll tell you all about it next winter. I have to go." "Lambert, what-" "I did the same thing, you idiot! He said he loved me and I panicked and I ran-" "Jaskier?" "NO! Aiden! Idiot!" "Who is Aid-" "NEXT WINTER!" And without another word, Lambert barrels out towards the horses.

[samstree]

(the 'jaskier likes a dilf fic' fic has a sequel, because i'm very nice ;)

following this

The blood is getting into Geralt’s eyes.

“Fuck,” he mutters, blinking it away, the wound on his forehead throbbing with every step he takes.

It must be a bad one if his healing still hasn’t kicked in. The gash runs deep and long near his hairline, bleeding sluggishly along his face. Geralt feels dizzy with the blood loss, the world spinning before his eyes. His senses are dulled—dark spots swimming in his vision, the ringing in his ears, slowed reflexes.

Head wounds are tricky bastards, he curses silently.

Geralt lets his feet drag himself forward, with much resistance from the uneven terrain and the injury, but carrying a fully grown man certainly doesn’t make it easier.

“Oh, thank you, master witcher!” Andrej says, draped over Geralt’s shoulder, head lolling upside down. Between every other word, he hisses from the pain in his broken foot. “If it weren’t for you, that beast would have eaten me whole!”

“Hmm.”

Geralt grunts, head pounding.

“I know you are a humble man, master. Jaskier told me all about it! He said you’d never admit to being a hero, but you are! Whatever shall I do to repay this debt?”

He says Jaskier’s name so casually, so intimately, without titles or honorifics.

The headache suddenly gets worse. Geralt has to suppress a groan. The barkeep’s weight is slipping from his shoulders, so he hikes him up with a jolt.

“Not humble,” he squeezes out the words in the end. “Just doing my job.”

“Still, you have no idea how much this means to me. To think I nearly died today, and my Lucja would have been left without a family. I fear no one would have taken her in this time. When that beast dragged me away, all I could think about was my daughter, master Geralt! My life is of no importance, but my sweet Lucja…”

Geralt grits his teeth as Andrej goes on and on about how he puts his daughter’s life before his, how he values nothing more in this life.

Stupid, kind-hearted Andrej, the best father in the world.

“How noble of you,” Geralt says pettily, out of nowhere. The blood loss lowers his inhibitions, making him more candid than he would like.

More reasons for Geralt to hate head wounds.

Distantly, he remembers he should not make such jabs at an innocent man who deserves no ire from him, but Andrej doesn’t seem to notice.

“I do not see raising my daughter as a noble deed, sir,” he simply goes on. “They say I saved Lucja’s life, but in truth, it was she who saved me! For you see, it is a privilege to love such a perfect daughter, who chose me as her family. I am only grateful for her arrival every single day…”

A growl falls out of Geralt’s throat on its own, the pettiness in his chest boiling hot. He barely notices the tavern appearing before his eyes as the good man rambles on.

Jaskier waits by the door, sitting on the step next to a small Lucja, who’s eyes are red and puffy. His arm is around her and patting gently, eyes brightening as he finds Geralt carrying Andrej back safely.

Geralt sets the barkeep on the ground, relieved both physically and mentally. When the beast came and carried Andrej away right in the middle of town, the heartbreak in Jaskier’s eyes…

He shakes away the memory of Jaskier panicked and pleading when the man of his dreams was in danger.

“Papa!” Lucja runs towards Andrej and jumps into his open arms. The broken foot is not the worst thing for a human, but it must still hurt when he lets her slam into him and picks her up.

Of course, the perfect father would do that.

“I am safe and sound, my sweet girl,” Andrej says between kissing Lucja. “You must thank master witcher. He saved me!”

Jaskier is hovering around the both of them, touching and checking Andrej all over. His face finally relaxes into a smile when he turns to Lucja. “As I said, Geralt is a hero! You see, your papa is back! Everything will be alright now!”

Geralt’s chest twists at the sight of the three of them, something heavy lodged in his throat. They make a lovely picture together, almost too precious for him to intrude.

With that, he turns to leave, but a dizzy spell suddenly takes over.

He stumbles, vision darkening. The ringing in his ears drowns out all the noises in the world, and there’s something warm and sticky on his chin. He touches it, and his hand comes away with fresh blood.

It’s nothing a few hours of meditation can’t fix, but he does need the rest. Now that Jaskier has the perfect man back, he’ll be busy cooing over his brave heart and broken foot, and on top of it, his undying paternal love even in the face of death.

Geralt needs to take care of himself, alone.

It’s fine, nothing he hasn’t done since before Jaskier came along.

Really, It’s fine, he tells himself again.

Geralt winces, and takes another step. His head must be more messed up than he realizes, because he only hears his name called out after a few times.

“…Geralt?” Jaskier appears out of nowhere. “Hey, darling. You are alright. I’m right here.”

Careful hands support Geralt by the arms, taking most of his weight. By instinct, he leans into Jaskier’s embrace. It’s familiar, and it’s a surprise.

Oh, Jaskier is right here.

“Why—” Geralt says, shaking away the fuzzy feeling in his head but only making it worse. The confusion of Jaskier’s presence by his side grows. “Andrej—”

“Hush, now. Here, let me.” Jaskier puts Geralt’s arm over his shoulder, guiding him up the stairs. “You saved Andrej, alright? His foot will be fine, because you carried him all the way here. Stupid witcher with your stupid heart…”

Jaskier complains more about Geralt’s heroics, but he didn’t do it to be a hero. He only didn’t want Jaskier to be sad.

“Oh. I’m not sad, dear. Don’t you worry about me.”

Hmm. Somehow, Geralt has said the last part out loud.

“Yeah, you did. Now—oof, let’s get you into bed.” Jaskier answers another one of Geralt’s train of thoughts, pushing open the door to their bedroom. “You are saying everything you think. It must be the head wound. Those are tricky bastards, I know.”

Geralt feels himself being lowered into the soft bed, the pillows against his back. Jaskier is all over him soon enough.

“Jaskier?”

“Yes?”

Those blue eyes are too close for Geralt to be thinking, he only leans into Jaskier’s touch. A soft, damp rug is pressed on his forehead, cleaning the blood away.

Geralt winces. “Why are you here?”

Jaskier’s hand stops, holding the rag and hovering. He shifts closer on the bed, his thigh pressed against Geralt’s. “Where else should I be?”

“Andrej…” Geralt closes his eyes, waiting for Jaskier to have the same realization. “You should go to him.”

Jaskier only looks more confused. His brows knit together in sympathy.

“Oh, my sweet witcher. It must be the injury messing with your head. Ugh, now I know why you hate head injuries so much. It’s making you ask these nonsensical questions.”

“Not nonsensical. You…” Geralt hesitates, not wanting to admit it to his treacherous heart. “You love him.”

The room is silent for a moment. Geralt focuses his senses on Jaskier’s breathing, the steady rise and fall of his chest, grounding as always. The headache feels less intense when he can listen to Jaskier’s breathing like this.

The gash is still an open wound, and Jaskier resumes his gentle care, cleaning away the blood clots and finding the bandages from the drawer.

“He’s a nice guy. I did, perhaps.” Jaskier says. “And?”

The bandage covers the wound, wrapping behind Geralt’s head. Jaskier gently tilts him forward so he can reach all the way around.

“And…” Geralt finds himself at a loss for words. “And, you love that he’s a good father to Lucja.”

Jaskier only shrugs, tucking in the corner of the bandage near Geralt’s nape. Both of his hands cup Geralt’s chin, helping him tilt forward, nearly tucking his face in Jaskier’s shoulder. A shudder runs down Geralt’s body at the closeness.

“Lucja is a very lucky child.” Jaskier finishes his work and pulls away. “Still, you are hurt. Why should I be anywhere else?”

It comes out as naturally as breathing, like it’s a choice Jaskier has never needed to make. To stay with Geralt.

“Huh.”

“I may have a thing or two for these gentlemen who happen to be lovely parents.” Jaskier meets Geralt’s eyes, blinking. “But as kind-hearted as Andrej is, he’s not the best father I know.”

Geralt blinks. “There are better ones?”

An unnamed annoyance rises again in his chest. There are more men Jaskier is noticing, more of them for the bard to get all hot and bothered over.

Geralt is trying really hard to not pout, but he can’t help the way his mouth tugs into the shape of displeasure. The blood loss must be getting to him.

A tiny smile appears at Jaskier’s lips, proud and wicked. “Why, yes. Of course,” he says. “There’s this one man. He’s better than the rest of them combined.”

A low growl rumbles in Geralt’s chest on its own volition. Before he can hide it, Jaskier lets out a chuckle.

“Should I describe him to you, dear witcher, so you may learn about my most prestigious, and frankly, almost impossible standards?”

“No, Jask—”

Geralt really doesn’t want to hear, yet again, how Jaskier’s attention has passed right over him and landed on another man, but Jaskier simply interrupts him.

“Where shall I begin? You see, he’s the best one in my eyes, not because he’s perfect. It’s the opposite, rather. He’s just as flawed as everyone else when they become a parent for the first time, but he always tries to do better. He knows of his shortcomings, perhaps too much, too intimately.” Jaskier’s eyes soften. “He feels guilty, for falling short in the early days, even after all this time. That’s why I’m here to remind him, of how far he’s come, how much he’s done for his daughter. It’s hard to raise an orphan-princess in the middle of war, you know?”

Jaskier smiles knowingly, and Geralt lets out a surprised oh.

“I—” he splutters. “Jaskier, it’s—I don’t—”

Geralt’s stomach flutters, his cheeks heating up.

“And he’s the reason…” Jaskier pauses, caressing Geralt’s cheek gently, careful with his injuries. “Well, he’s the reason I started to notice the rest of them.”

“The rest of them?” Geralt asks, brain still trying to catch up.

“Mm-hmm.” Jaskier nods. “All the other fathers started to catch my attention. Suddenly, I was swooning left and right at the sight of an older man taking care of his children. Once I added being a good dad to my list of standards, do you know what I realized?”

Geralt is now feeling woozy again, this time not for the blood loss. “What did you realize?”

Jaskier’s hand trails from Geralt’s face, making him chase for a brief moment, longing for the gentle touch. He catches Geralt’s hands, lifting them to his lips for a chaste kiss, and then another.

“None of them can compare,” Jaskier answers, solemnly. “Not Andrej. Not any of them. I have a man in my heart already, taking up all of the space, showing up in all my dreams. When he’s here, he’s the only one I see. Flaws and all.”

Geralt is warm all over when Jaskier’s eyes are on him like this, like he’s the most important thing under the sky.

“He sounds…” It’s hard to say it, but Geralt has always been more candid when his head is all over the place. “He sounds amazing. You should tell him more.”

“Yes.” Jaskier’s smile stretches. “I forget, sometimes, how deeply those doubts lie. Hopefully, he’ll forgive me for being neglectful.”

“I’m sure he will.”

“Or I should just profess my undying love, and never let his insecurities prevail again.”

Geralt’s eyes widen, his heart nearly giddy with hope. “You should.”

Jaskier’s features soften impossibly when he holds Geralt’s chin in his palm, leans in, and presses a gentle kiss on his eyebrow.

“Well, for one, he is you,” he whispers it like a secret, resting their foreheads together. “I love you, at your best and at your worst. I love all your faults and mistakes, and my love only grows when you try to do better. You are my favorite person, Geralt of Rivia. You are my heart, and my songs, and you are everything hopeful about this world. Now—” Jaskier kisses him again on the cheek, a big wet kiss that he wipes away with a thumb, pulling away. “Will you stop being an idiot?”

Warmth spreads from Geralt’s stomach, making him hum with happiness. The way he melts into Jaskier’s embrace, losing all the words, may indicate that he’s still failing at the not-being-an-idiot part.

“You love me,” Geralt mutters the most important thing, not sure how to react, so he traps Jaskier in his arms and buries his face in his chest, refusing to let go.

When Jaskier laughs, it’s carefree and indulgent, the vibration rumbling against Geralt’s cheek. His fingers have returned to Geralt’s hair, playing with it patiently.

“I love you, and I’m in love with you, my brave, concussed, impossible witcher. I might even say I have a crush on you when you are being particularly sweet like this,” Jaskier says. “And you do need some rest if we want that head wound to heal, dear.”

But Geralt is very comfortable, snuggling into Jaskier like this, and he also has a crush in return.

“I need to tell you too.” Geralt’s voice comes out muffled and sleepy, his eyes closing in contentment. “So you won’t have doubts… so you’ll know…”

The fingers in his hair are soothing, petting in a gentle rhythm that is getting slower and slower, lulling Geralt into a meditative state.

“When your head is clear, perhaps,” Jaskier answers. “I’ll still be here when you feel better. I shall confess my love again, lest you forget, and you can tell me all that you feel, all the sweet things you want to say to me. Well—on the other hand, when you feel better, I’ll also have the chance to tease you.”

“Will you?”

Jaskier’s smile sounds wicked, but Geralt cannot find it in himself to care.

“Oh, of course. Relentlessly. This is too good of an opportunity to pass, you getting the idea that I might care for Andrej more than you, simply because he is a good father. Hmm, let’s see, who should hear it first? Ah, yes. Ciri, of course…”

Jaskier’s voice blends into the background noise, chirping in excitement about the prospect of telling Ciri everything, his arms around Geralt, never for a second trying to let go.

Geralt closes his eyes, letting out a long sigh and finally letting himself rest in satisfaction.

A head wound may not be the worst thing in the world, he thinks.

He just needs to get better soon enough. There’s a love confession waiting for him, after all.

[dragonbornphoenix]

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[wolvesandfoxes25]

The truth will out.

"I have a question for you, Geralt?" Jaskier asked, his face pinched up in aggravation.

"Hm?"

The bard spun around, his fingers in their signature formation, shifting into an O.

"Is there a reason why you're giving me these piteous looks?" He all but snapped out, moving a piece of brown hair behind one ear.

Geralt was taken aback... almost flushing at being called out.

He hadn't meant, per say, to do what he was being accused of...but looking back now he realized he kinda had.

"What are you on about?"

Jaskier chuckled, no humor anywhere to be found.

"I'm no fool, Geralt. I know you've spent 20+ years thinking me one, but piss off with that accusation."

Geralt sat down, eyes taking in the fluffed up form of the brunette.

"Jaskier. If I've offended you, I truly apologize." He replied as heartfelt as possible. Which, for him, was a low growl, but... semantics.

"Thank you for the apology, but it doesn't negate the fact that you've been doing it. Now, my acrimonious friend, do enlighten me."

Geralt had always known about the other mans...affinity for him. How could he not?

Jaskier wasn't exactly subtle.

"Is it because you know I wanna fuck you?"

Geralt felt like he'd been slapped.

"Honestly, I stumble upon two people a day I'd like to fuck. So, what? Why the looks?"

Silence.

"Have you seen yourself? Your arse is a thing of glory, as I've said before."

Jaskier waved that statement off like he was shooing a fly.

Gaining his... albeit lack of words, Geralt crossed his arms.

"No. Well, in a way, it is regarding that." He grumbled.

Jaskier rolled his eyes, eyes drifting down to his laced cuff.

Silence.

"I know you care for me." He whispered, knowing his friend would hear.

Jaskier froze, fingers clenching together.

A long, grinding silence filled the cabin and Geralt hated it.

Finally...

"Ah, I see. Poor, pathetic Jaskier, always running after the unattainable. In this case... you." He grit out between clenched teeth, blue eyes flashing.

Geralt glared, getting to his feet.

"I didn't think that for one second, Jask."

Jaskiers glare deepened..."Don't fucking call me that, godsdamn you. S-Stop looking at me like that!"

The Witcher grit his teeth, trying like fuck to reign his temper back to its confine.

"Did Yennefer give you this tidbit of information?" He demanded.

Geralt didn't answer.

She had... at one point mentioned it.

He hadn't replied to her, not wanting to use that topic to... gossip. It wasn't any of her business, and his silence let her know that.

"She did. I fucking knew it. The two of you enjoy a good laugh at my expense?"

Geralt glowered now.

"How little you think of me." He hissed.

Jaskier glared, blue eyes full of discomfort and embarrassment.

"How little you think of the fairy, huh? Sullies your witcher name for a person with a cock to love you? Sorry, I left my cunt back in Oxenfurt."

Turning to leave in a huff, he felt a big, heavy hand clamp onto his wrist.

"Unhand me, you brutish lout of a man!"

Geralt did, setting him firmly against the door.

The two of them stared at each other in the dim light of the shitty cabin, both of them breathing heavy in the night air.

Geralt watched his chest rise and fall beneath his coat, lips pinched together in fury.

"I never meant to judge you, Jaskier."

Silence.

"Well, the 'woe is him, poor piteous little dandelion' has been permanently plastered upon your face for days now. And I would really appreciate it if you'd stop." Jaskier choked out, looking like it was physically painful to say those words to the other male.

Silence.

"I can't help the way I feel, alright? I've tried for years to.. to.. deny what I feel. To push you out and away from my very essence, but I fucking can't!"

He spat out those words like acid in his throat and Geralt felt them like acid across his face, stunning even him into silence.

Jaskier looked like a caged animal when he moved to leave again. But Geralt gripped him again, forcing him back into place.

The brunette pushed at him furiously, but Geralt didn't relent, trapping him.

Two sets of eyes locked... and Geralt felt near possessed when his hand reached up and cupped his bards face.

Blue eyes widened at the action, his lips trembling, chest rising and falling like he'd run away from a monster.

Maybe it was Geralt he was running from mentally.

It was too late, wasn't it? To let Jaskier know?...

Jaskier pushed his hand away with trembling fingers and all but ran out of the cabin.

Geralt stood there, feeling foolish.

The end. Or... to be continued?

[geraskierfanficprompts]

me about this fic idea

When Jaskier was young and just beginning his journey as a bard, he was gifted with immortality to ensure his music would endure forever. His lifespan was magically linked to a flower: as long as the flower bloomed, Jaskier would live. To protect it, the flower was placed in an enchanted ember that prevented it from wilting. Jaskier then hid the ember to ensure its safety.

Jaskier mostly kept his immortality a secret, but he did casually mention it to Geralt once.

After having his heart broken on the mountain, Jaskier decided he was done with life. He sought out the hidden place where he had concealed the ember, planning to destroy the flower. He even found a mage willing to break the ember for him.

When Jaskier arrived at the hidden place, he panicked upon discovering the ember was missing. Only then did he notice Geralt holding it.

Geralt refused to give it back.

[ladyannemarie5]

Geraskier Mamma Mia!AU

I started reading a wonderful fic on ao3 with the Mamma Mia theme titled "It's a Game We Play" by BambiRex (Geraskier/ Yennskier/ Radskier) and remembered I had a similar idea in my drafts with Jaskier, Geralt, Eskel and Lambert, so here it is.

-------------------

Geralt, Eskel and Lambert live and run Kaer Morhen in the mountains, a residence for retired soldiers or those who simply can't find a home. The three brothers have been in charge of the place since Vesemir retired a few years ago and with them, the place has blossomed to welcome their brothers in arms in a calm and relaxed atmosphere. 

Ciri, Geralt's adopted daughter is a lovely teenager whose love and devotion lies with her father, uncles, aunts, grandfather and of course, her favorite singer: Jaskier. 

Ever since Ciri met Jaskier when she was in elementary school, her love and obsession for the singer grew more and more each day to the discomfort of her father and uncles. 

Every year without fail, Ciri hogs the TV room to watch the entire award season wherever Jaskier goes and that year is no exception. 

For some strange reason, Eskel, Lambert and Geralt always accompany Ciri to watch the awards. Their reason, they say, is to make sure the girl doesn't see anything inappropriate on TV. The teenager doesn't complain because she loves telling people about Jaskier and the meaning of his songs. 

Jaskier wins the Grammy for Album of the Year for the third year in a row to the delight of everyone present, and his speech changes everyone's life in Kaer Morhen. 

Jaskier gives the usual thanks to his friends, collaborators and others, and then thanks that wonderful summer love affair he experienced 10 years ago that was the complete inspiration for his winning album. He wishes the best to that man and says in a worldwide live broadcast that sometimes he still thinks about him. 

Ciri, social networks and media go crazy. Geralt, Eskel and Lambert too. 

And of course, Lambert opens his mouth to say that he can't believe Buttercup still thinks about him. The mouths of those present open wide and Ciri starts a whole barrage of questions. Lambert confesses and brags that he met Jaskier one summer 10 years ago and they spent a whole wonderful week together. But it doesn't end there, Eskel jumps in to say that if anyone inspired his Lark to write a Grammy winning album it's him, because apparently Eskel also spent a wonderful summer week by the singer's side. Last but not least, Geralt speaks for the first time since they sat down and confesses that he too spent a week with his Bard 10 years ago. 

From there begins a friendly fight of who is the winning muse of the great singer Jaskier, everyone starts analyzing lyric by lyric claiming that they are inspired by one of them. Everything is a joke (let's not talk that the 3 morons remember to perfection every moment lived with Jaskier and that sometimes they stay awake until the wee hours of the morning trying to remember more), until Jaskier, the great singer, arrives to Kaer Morhen. 

Ciri, fed up with their bickering and excited to be able to reconnect any of the fools with her favorite singer, contacts Jaskier to let him know that he is more than welcome to Kaer Morhen for more inspiration. 

Of course, a series of events begins where Jaskier plays with his wolves to keep them from guessing who has been the biggest muse in his life and which songs are for whom. 

Spoiler: In my mind and heart, Geralt is the obvious winner. 

----------------------------

As always, let me know what you guys think, if you want to add anything, if you don't like it, etc.

Also if you want to take the idea and write it, go ahead. Just remember to tell me so I can read it. The songs I imagine are entirely Taylor Swift songs, but if you have suggestions and for whom, feel free to let me know.

[spiralsintime]

~ Intro Post ~

Hello, my name is Spirals. I'm an ao3 writer who is currently hyperfixated on Hazbin Hotel (though before that, it was The Witcher where I wrote several fics for my beloved Geraskier ship — fics are up on my ao3 if you’re interested). If you enjoy angst and the exploration of asexuality, check out my Radiostatic fics below:

[Explicit Gore] Reaching out to Hold onto Something (10.8k words) (Main tags: Manic Episode, Overstimulation, Mutual Pining)

[NSFW] Sing Your Notes, Play Your Part (6.7k words) (Main tags: Asexual Alastor, No Touch Top, Friends with Benefits)

[SFW] Left You Dancing In The Dark (3.2k words) (Main tags: Vox's Obsession with Alastor, One-sided Alastor/Vox, Crying Vox)

~~~

I'm going to be completely honest and confess that Tumblr confuses me immensely (like most social media platforms) so I'm much more active on my Twitter where I just never seem to stop yapping about some fandom or another.

[machtaholic]

First Ten Lines Challenge

rules: share the first line of your last ten published works or as many as you are able to and see if there are any patterns!

tagged by @cinematicnomad <3

5 Times Eddie Sabotaged Steve's Dates (+1 Time Where Eddie was the Date) (10k [ish], M) Steddie, post S4 with Eddie sabotaging Steve's dates until he becomes the date

“What do you see in all those girls anyway?” Eddie laid out on a towel near the pool in Steve’s backyard.

A Different Kind of Brave (11.5k, T) Steddie, post S4 with Eddie finding Steve at a beauty school in Indianapolis - hair is tamed and a date is made.

Steve wiped down his tools and checked his station one last time, breathing a sigh of relief.

A New Style (1k, T) Steddie, just an excuse for Eddie to molest Steve's neck after a new haircut

“All right shitheads, come help grab the pizzas! Those with hollow legs must help cart the load into the kitchen!”

I Will Sing You a Praise Chorus (6k [ish], T) Steddie, Eddie trying to figure Steve out and finds Steve has a bit of a praise kink

“Steve! You’re looking extra bitchin’ today!”

I Want Candy (1k [ish], T) Steddie, just a little fun with Eddie finding Steve washing his car

Eddie closed his eyes and tried to drown out the cacophony of sounds coming from Nancy’s station wagon.

You Are Your Own Magician (15k, M) Steddie, bit of a character study with Steve finding himself, leading to a sweet Steddie reunion

It started with the vest.

Yer a Dragon, Jaskier (7k [ish], M) Geraskier, Jaskier's a dragon but doesn't know it - and Geralt is in love with him - things work out in the end

There was nothing special about the day - it started off like every other day did in Kaer Morhen.

Let's Dance Together, You and I (12k, E) Geraskier, A fun bodyswap fic with love confessions

It started with Chaos.

Comatose (766 words, G) Tarlos, bit of hurt/comfort

“We need to get his father.”

Converge (906 words, M) Malcom Bright x Original Male Character, just a kinky ficlet in my Psych 101 'Verse

The wedding had gone off without a hitch, thankfully.

The Steddie stuff is all posted since January and the rest is from 2022 and 2021 ... I had a bit of a slump LOL

Aaaand I'm gonna tag ... @gusthemoose, @trekkiepirate, @halffizzbin, @literaryoblivion and @p1013

[youknowwhoiam3490-blog]

Aggressive positivity and intense compliments are my love language and I'm glad you're receptive to it.

I'm excited to read more from you especially now that I'm braced for the emotional ramifications of doing so.🥲

"Wait... are you Geralt's soulmate?"

The look on Ciri's face tells too much. Of course Geralt hasn't told Ciri, hasn't told any of them.

“Yes, I am” Jaskier offers her his biggest sincere smile though he thinks he might be grimacing.

Ciri in her charming petulant way says "Wow" and then proceeds to turn around towards the stairs. Jaskier tries not to feel insulted. He is aware of who he is. The contrast between him and Yennefer (Geralt's true love) is painfully immense. Sometimes he wonders if destiny was wrong about him or maybe she wanted to play with him, a mere pawn on Geralt's destiny. The bridge that'd bring Geralt and Yennefer together. But, if that's the truth, if Geralt wasn't meant for him why did he fall in love?

Alone on his cold room he decides he's going to tried, one last time, to be what Geralt wants, needs. So he throws away his colorful clothes and puts on a pair of black pants and a plain black blouse (borrowed from Cöen). He tries to be as useful as possible, quiet, focused, regal, smart and a good company for anyone that wants to talk to the strange bard, he's a good performer after all, the best there is. At least Vesemir doesn't scold at him that much anymore and Lambert is more willing to tolerate his presence. He still sings, in a cellar on top of the main tower, the echo is divine. He writes and sings about heartbreak, hoping, waiting, wanting, and letting go.

Geralt notices of course, he can see the way he holds himself. Like he's hurting. Maybe he is. Ciri asked him a few weeks ago why he didn't tell anyone about Jaskier being his soulmate.

She also tells him about the disappointment in the bard's face at finding himself stranded in Geralt's destiny.

[roughentumble]

awwwww i found some of my old geraskier pride and prejudice AU posts!! i still yearn for a darcy!jaskier and lizzie!geralt fic, i think it could work so well. wolf witchers being once respected but now nearly penniless and they'll lose the house when vesemir dies, a big family with lambert as the youngest, geralt and eskel as lizzie and jane being best of friends, eskel was once going to be the one to marry and save the family before he got his horrible scars. but then he starts a romance with priscilla, who thinks he's handsome anyway. geralt has a dry, biting wit and is determined to be alone forever, sure that he'll never find someone and sure that he's unwilling to compromise and be in an unsatisfactory relationship. he'd rather be alone, which he's sure he will be. but then there's jaskier, who's sure that eskel is going to hurt his precious friend priscilla, but he's entraced by geralt and geralt's quiet strength, his quick mind, his clever wordplay. he convinces pris to save herself, while still trying to woo geralt, blind to the way he's shooting himself in the foot, and the hurt he's causing.

it could be somethingggg, jaskier's little sister that he's very protective of could be essi! lizzie's friend who marries for safety instead of love could be yen perhaps, and i think the characters suit the roles! it's instinct to make geralt the dark broody one, but if you ignore the trappings of who broods and who's in brighter spirits, i think their actions and familial connections suit best this way.

also i just cant ever stop picturing the confession scene with jaskier being thoughtlessly, cruelly flippant in that self-absorbed way of his, while geralt just grits his teeth and gets angrier and angrier, but even as he unleashes hell on jaskier, a little voice whispers you always knew that loving you would be a burden, why are you so angry that he's proving you right?

[tielmamon]

The way the Jaskier tells the dryads how he'll just wait for Geralt outside the forest, sits down and immediately sings the line

"My love for you will never die..."

SHUT THE FUCK UP

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 94

Geralt hates the way Jaskier dresses. Alright- That came out wrong- Just like it does every time he tries to bring it up to Jaskier. He's just trying to help, or bring up a reasonable concern, but every time Geralt opens his damn mouth, all it gets him is a hurt look in Jaskier's eyes, and a smile just too big to be truthful. Geralt doesn't mind the colors. He doesn't mind the lace, or the tulle, or the colors, or the corsets, or the unreasonable amount of buttons and clasps, or the colors. He just doesn't like that there's nothing to the clothing. They don't protect nor warm his bard. Thus Geralt spends all time away from Jaskier, whether for a week because Jaskier is at some bardic competition, or all winter when Jaskier is at Oxenfort and he is at Kaer Morhen, sewing. He reads book after book after book, and practices, practices, practices. Geralt will make his bard pretty colorful frilly clothing that also keeps him warm and protected.

[bambirex]

The River’s Just A River

Pairing: Geraskier, one-sided geraskier

Characters: Jaskier/Dandelion, Geralt of Rivia

Rating: Teen

Additional tags: angst, unrequited love, one-sided attraction, love confessions, hurt jaskier, heartbreak, loneliness, hopeful ending

Word count: 1,817

Chapters: 1/1

Summary:  Jaskier needs to tell Geralt something important in order to move on with his life, even though he knows he cannot expect anything in return.

Author’s notes: I've been thinking a lot about how the show would handle queer Jaskier (which we may or may not get eventually), and if they would ever acknowledge his very obvious feelings for Geralt. I kind of had this whole scene in my head where Jaskier eventually tells Geralt, but in a way that would be, I guess, realistic in the actual show's universe (as in they wouldn't have the guts to make Geraskier canon, but we could still have canonically one-sided Geraskier). I just so desperately want them to say out loud that Jaskier is in love with Geralt, even if they wouldn't actually end up in a relationship!!! Like, don't be cowards, give us that at least!!! And be respectful about it!!!!

Anyway, here's a short, angsty piece of an imaginary season 3 scene. Feedback is super appreciated!!!

Read on Ao3

**

The air was chilly in the mountains. It was colder here than any other place Jaskier has ever been to. He hugged his torso protectively against the harsh bite of the wind, rubbing his arms up and down. He stared down over the railing of the balcony, watching as Yennefer and Ciri stood side by side, the sorceress explaining something with animated gestures, while Ciri nodded along with utmost attention.

Kaer Morhen was a lonely place, despite crawling with witchers and now with their guests. Jaskier hasn’t had many opportunities to interact with anyone besides Yennefer. He hasn’t really managed to speak to Geralt, either.

Funny how it was that Jaskier has been alone for years after Geralt has abandoned him on that mountain after the dragon hunt, but the gaping hole inside Jaskier’s heart left by his absence only became truly evident after they reunited. It felt like getting Geralt back, giving Jaskier stupid, false hope for a couple of moments; the foolish part of his brain desperately clung to the short moments they got to spend together. But then, Geralt slipped away again, returning to his more important duties of caring for the family Jaskier wasn’t part of. It hurt way more than it should have. Jaskier thought he could now handle heartbreak, having gathered enough experience in the matter, but it seemed like some things would never change. Not when it came to his feelings for Geralt.

Jaskier flinched when he felt a touch on his back. He whipped around, then let out a sigh of relief when he realized it was Geralt standing behind him.

“Gods above, warn a man before you sneak up on him from behind,” Jaskier chuckled, clutching a hand over his heart dramatically. Geralt hummed, the sound almost amused.

“If I warn you beforehand, it’s not sneaking.”

A part of Jaskier longed for moments like this, where it felt like their natural chemistry was back. In those moments, it almost felt like nothing was ruined between them. The other, slightly more rational part of him knew that this was just a mockery of what used to be, a sad attempt at trying to fix what was broken, what was hopeless even before the mountain incident.

“Why aren’t you in bed?” Geralt asked, moving a little closer to Jaskier. He still stood way too far away, as if he was worried that standing too close would have scared him away. “It’s early.”

Jaskier shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Your hands?”

The question caught Jaskier off-guard. Geralt hasn’t even asked him about them, until now. Jaskier wasn’t even sure if he’s noticed.

Now, Geralt was looking at Jaskier’s bandaged hands with a furrow between his brow that almost looked like concern.

“It’s not that bad,” Jaskier lied, turning his eyes away from Geralt and back to the endless snow stretching out over the mountains. He didn’t want to admit that he’s been sobbing in pain for the better part of an hour this morning. The last thing he wanted was to burden Geralt with his own problems. He had enough on his plate already.

“If there’s anything…” Geralt trailed off. He crossed his arms over his chest, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “If there’s anything I can do to help, let me know?”

Jaskier cursed the flutter of his heart. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t melt, that he wouldn’t allow Geralt back into his heart. He’d promised himself that he would fall out of love with him, and yet.

“I’m fine, Geralt,” Jaskier said, forcing a smile onto his face. “Really, don’t worry about me.”

“Why did you do it?” Geralt sounded almost pained. The frown between his brows deepened.

“Why did you endure that torture? You had every right to sell me out after what I’ve done to you.”

It was true. Jaskier owed Geralt nothing after Geralt has betrayed his own trust like that, after he broke Jaskier’s heart. He couldn’t even know if he would ever see Geralt again, so it wouldn’t have been his duty to protect him. For all Jaskier had known in that moment, Geralt and him had been completely through.

But the sad reality of it was, that Jaskier had never actually managed to stop loving Geralt; for all his frustrations, for all the dissing songs full of angry pain, he’s always remained that naïve, young bard who had fallen in love with a grumpy witcher in a dingy tavern. Geralt had hurt him so deeply, had abandoned him and hadn’t even bothered to look for him all these years, but Jaskier still forgave him easily, still clung to him like all those decades ago. Because Jaskier was many things, and a big part of him was his eternal love for Geralt.

He was older now, maybe even a bit more mature. He’s seen many things, and has been hurt many times. He could have lied, the same way he lied about the amount of pain he was in, but he saw no point in it. He really only had one life, and only so many chances to live his truth during.

“You don’t know, do you,” Jaskier whispered, avoiding Geralt’s eyes. Looking into them would have hurt too much, would have stopped him from saying what he knew he had to. “You don’t even have an idea. Not after all these years.”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Geralt admitted. “But I’m willing to listen.”

Jaskier sighed. He shivered, but he wasn’t sure if it was still from the cold.

“There were days, when I wanted you to hurt,” Jaskier’s voice was barely above a whisper. “When I wanted you to suffer as much as I have. But… it was a specific pain, that I wished on you. Not just any pain. I wanted you to feel the same heartbreak I’ve felt after you left me.”

“Jaskier…”

“No, please, let me finish,” Jaskier all but begged him. He knew that if he couldn’t say it now, he would take this with him to the grave.

“But I could have never hurt you, myself. I’m incapable of doing it. Not just because I’m weak, and a coward, but because I could never bring myself to do it. I could write a song calling you horrible names, or I could ignore you for a couple of days, but I could never, ever be able to cause you pain.”

He placed a shaky hand on the railing. The cool surface made his abused hand ache for a couple seconds, before the pain subsided.

“There was always a part of me, a part that clung onto stupid dreams and hopes all along. A part that wondered… that maybe… maybe I wasn’t alone in my feelings. When you would worry about me, when you would hold me just a little longer after each reunion… when you would smile at me… in those moments, I started to hope.”

He swallowed, his throat suddenly feeling tight and dry. The words barely managed to come out, constricted by his pain.

“That was what I tried to tell you on that mountain. When I asked you to run away with me. I couldn’t say it out loud, because I still had hope, and I was scared I would break it with my words, but I meant it. And I still mean it.”

He looked up at Geralt at last. He remembered how his heart pounded when he was trying to make Geralt see what he meant to him on the mountain. His heart was still now, if a little hurt. Because the naïve hope wasn’t here anymore to make him nervous.

“I love you, Geralt,” Jaskier told him, his shoulders slumping as the weight that has been sitting on them for more than twenty years, has finally left. “I’ve been in love with you since the day that we’ve met.”

He waited a little, letting the weight of his words settle in. His witcher blinked at him, his lips parting slightly as if he wanted to say something, but wasn’t sure what.

“That was why I endured the fire, why I was willing to even die if it meant you would be safe. Because I love you.”

Jaskier closed his eyes, letting a tear ran down from beneath them, so cold against his cheek.

He only opened them again when he felt Geralt laying a hand on his shoulder, the touch so painfully familiar to when he asked for Jaskier’s help in the prison cell. Even his expression was similar, only more ridden with guilt.

“I am so sorry, Jaskier,” Geralt told him. His voice was more earnest than Jaskier has ever heard before. “I don’t… I love you, too. Just… not like that.”

“I know,” Jaskier whispered. He slowly, carefully brought up his own hand, to touch Geralt’s arm. “I’ve known that since the mountain. I didn’t tell you so you would force yourself into returning it. Or to guilt you, even. I just couldn’t have you not knowing forever. I’ve nearly died so many times in the past few days, and… I’ve seen so much shit. Life really is fucking short, and I guess… what pleases me now, is being honest with my best friend.”

He let out a shaky breath. Geralt’s hand was still on his shoulder, and Jaskier let himself cherish it for a little longer.

“Because we are… we are still friends, right?” He asked, his voice wavering. “Or… we could still be?”

“Do you still want to be?” Geralt asked. There was a tinge of emotion in his voice, one that sounded suspiciously like hope. “After everything?”

“I think we could try,” Jaskier said. He held Geralt’s gaze, letting some hope seep back into his own heart: a different kind he used to have, but still hope, nonetheless.

Geralt hummed. There was a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips, even when he pulled his hand back from Jaskier.

“We’re gonna have to take Ciri somewhere else,” he said, his eyes drifting to where Yennefer and Ciri were still practicing far away from them. “A place where Yen could help her with her powers more efficiently.”

He looked back at Jaskier. “I’d like it if you came along.”

“Of course,” Jaskier replied, letting a smile settle onto his face. Geralt nodded, then turned around and walked back inside, leaving Jaskier standing on the balcony.

Jaskier turned his face upwards, breathing in the cold air. He closed his eyes again.

For so many years, Jaskier has felt so heavy, as if his body has been filled with rocks. Now, he felt light, and calm: there was no need for any more second-guessing, no need for worrying. He needed to let go of Geralt in a way to let him in again.

And by doing so, Jaskier has stepped onto the path of healing.

[nezmar13]

Love blooms in shades of crimson and blue UPDATE

NEW PART of my GERASKIER fic centered in the Wizarding World is here.

The second part takes place during the Second Task during which Jaskier is one of the students taken to the bottom of the Black Lake and it will be ultimately upon Geralt to save him, even though he himself is not a champion in the Triwizard Tournament.

Fluff and Smut

Tooth-Rotting Fluff

Love Confessions

Idiots in Love

POV Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia

[wolvesandfoxes25]

Part 3:

Jerking Geralt off slowly was near a religious experience for Jaskier, the length of him hot and heavy in his palm.

The Witcher panted lightly against his lips as his stroking picked up a little.

Suddenly, Geralt’s hand folded over his, stopping his movements altogether.

“Jaskier.” He grumbled, licking dry lips.

The bard furrowed his eyebrow, stealing another kiss quickly.

“Are you alright?” He asked quietly, his heart pounding.

Geralt just looked at him, moving himself out of Jaskiers space, wincing when he connected with the boulder behind him.

“Before we go further, Jask. I need you to know something.”

The brunette nodded his head, nervousness taking over the passion that had been building in his veins.

“You know I would give my like for Ciri. I almost did on that beach. Had Vilgefortz delt me anymore blows, I wouldn’t be having this conversation with you right now.”

Jaskier felt the words like a slap in the face.

Choking, he looked away from the Witcher, out into the trees, trying to not let that darkness that started to consume him outside Brokilon, consume him now.

He didn’t want to hear how close to death Geralt had truly come.

“I know.” He managed to mumble, the words getting stuck like honey in his throat.

“Finding her when we leave here could come to that.” Geralt continued softly, and Jaskier wanted to tell him to shut the fuck up. He didn’t want to hear anymore.

“W-W-Why are you saying these things, Geralt?” Jaskier bit out, frustration and dread eclipsing his tone, turning it into something of a grating noise.

Silence.

“I know what you went through with Rience.”

Blanching, Jaskier moved backwards, hitting the adjacent rock, his fingers trembling beneath the stillness.

“You didn’t go into detail, and I’m not asking for it now, but I know it was for information regarding Ciri and I.”

Silence.

Unclamping his jaw, Jaskier thought he heard his teeth creak at the intensity of how he held them together.

“So what if it was? I d-didn’t-”

He had to stop, the water around him feeling too hot against his skin. Reaching out blindly, he gripped the rock to the right of his body, sucking in air he felt was no longer getting into his lungs easily.

“Jaskier.”

That deep voice that trickled through his dreams, and sometimes nightmares, called out to him through the thickness of his panic and he whimpered.

Fingers touched his upper arm and he jolted, trying to shove the feeling away from his person.

“Take steady breaths, Jask. Not too fast.”

Shaking his head, he heard the words and applied them.

It worked.

If only enough to get Jaskier back a place of coherency.

“Are you alright?” Geralt asked gently, long fingers moving up to grip his chin, turning blue eyes to meet gold.

Shaking, Jaskier took a more steadying breath and nodded.

“I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m only trying to make you see the realism in this situation.”

Jaskier narrowed his eyes at the other man, anger starting to wedge itself into his breastbone.

“I don’t need you to give me a rundown of the danger I find myself in, Geralt.”

The Witcher stared at him, as if he was trying to study the reactions he might pull out with his next statement.

“When we leave here, you’re a wanted man. There’s no more singing in taverns, no more making new songs to pan out to the masses. This is it.”

Jaskier just stared back at him, almost in challenge.

“What are you getting at here, Geralt? You think I don’t know any of that? That I’m the same eighteen-year-old you tried to brush off in Posada?”

Geralt scowled.

“Well, I’m not. That innocence got stripped out of me long ago. And that was for the best, a life with you isn’t easy. But I never signed up for easy, now did I? All I’ve ever wanted is to be at your side.”

The silver haired male looked back over him, his eyes burning.

“You can have that life in court, with musicians and courtesans. After all you’ve been through Jask, you deserve it.”

Jaskier felt his emotions surge up his throat, his eyes starting to water.

“Are you trying to get rid of me? Again? Am I still shoveling the shit, Geralt?”

The Witcher snarled at the insinuation, raking a hand through his messy hair as it fell across his forehead.

Tears fell down Jaskiers cheeks as he glowered at the man across from him.

How could love be so painful?

So…consuming.

“I’m trying to give you a choice!” Geralt snapped, voice high pitched, nothing like it usually was.

Jaskier wiped his eyes, taking a deep breath, a sob getting stuck in his throat.

Silence.

“I’ve loved you since I first set eyes on you, Geralt. The big, broody wanker in the corner. I love how you never back down, how you try to hide the best of yourself. I love how you care even when you shouldn’t. Everything good about you came out of all the bad things that happened to you. Such a rarity in todays fucked up world, Gods, I couldn’t help but fall in love with you.”

The birds in the trees were the only sound you could hear at that moment.

“It used to be a want, to be by your side. Now, it’s a need. I need to be here, with you. You’re the only one I’ve ever felt that way about. Not the Countess, not my own blood kin, not Radovid, just you.”

Silence.

“You don’t have to love me back. I’m not looking for a big, grand confession. My love for you doesn’t and won’t change anything. I know that.”

It hurt, saying that last sentence. But, it was the truth. His love wouldn’t go away because it wasn’t reciprocated. He had tried over the years to let go of it, but, Gods above, he couldn’t.

Silence.

Jaskier chanced a look over at Geralt, but the white haired mans gaze was elsewhere, far off into the trees.

“I’ll go.” He murmured, getting out of the water, pruned to all hell.

He didn’t get far before Geralt was on him, a shaking hand clutching his hair, melding their lips together.

It felt like a storm against his mouth, strong arms wrapping around his trim waist.

Geralt backed him up, the water sloshing around them, creating little waves that ran over their skin.

When his back hit a rock, he felt the lips leave his, and a trembling forehead press against his.

“I wish I was better with words.”

Jaskier huffed out a laugh, breathing in Geralt’s air, relishing in the overwhelming peace that flowed through his bloodstream at his proximity.

That’s how it had always been, when the Witcher was around.

Jaskier could feel it in his bones, in his gut.

He used to hate it. It only brought him pain. He remembered seeking refuge in alcohol after the mountain disaster, wanting to drown his sorrows in the bottle.

It never helped.

Shaking his head, he let those memories go. They didn’t matter. What mattered was the here and now.

“I’m not going anywhere, you boar. I’m here, and if that means certain death or imprisonment to get our girl back, then so be it.”

Geralt chuckled, weaving his hand back into Jaskiers hair.

“I’d die for you as well, you know.” He muttered, and Jaskier…well, he had a poet's heart. What the hell else was he supposed to do but cry?

This was supposed to be a sexy adventure into the hot spring. Jaskier wiped his eyes and leaned forward taking Geralt’s lips again.

“We came here to fuck, didn’t we? If you’re still feeling up to it?” He mumbled, moving the man’s hair out of the way to lay his lips against the pale skin of his throat.

A shuddered nod made Jaskier groan as he reached down and gripped Geralt once again.

TBC in part 4.

I had wanted this to be nothing but pure filth but decided to give Jaskier a chance to confess his feelings, because that's important. It's not just sex between them..