#tldr: two idiots don't become less idiotic when the single brain cell shoves them together

[jaskiersvalley]

okay, hello?? your most recent fic, silver tongue and silver hand, murdered me on the spot. just a straight shot through the heart. crying was involved, with many multiple tears. i just need you to understand the amount of emotions i feel. and i'm not usually into geraskefer, but my god. beautiful 🥺🥺🥺💕

The duality of a writer is going “oh no! I’m so sorry! Let me get you some tissues and a hot drink!” in a mad panic. But at the same time there’s a sly little voice going “hehehe. Good! Cry! I have done my job.” So please accept my humble apologies with a side of gleeful delight. That fic was one that hurt me too, to be fair. And same hat, Nonnie. I’m not all that into Geraskefer but they do lend themselves to some beautiful angst and hurt/comfort.

Let me see if I can atone for your tears a little with two soft idiots trying to fall in love while their snarky friend is just trying to live her best life.

Just Kiss Already

Feigning intimacy was easy. Jaskier could fake it with anyone really. A soft caress, a kiss, they were all meaningless to him. But it made his bed partners so happy, feel so cherished that it was difficult not to. Because, at the heart of is all, the only thing Jaskier wanted was to spread happiness and joy. It was why he sang, why he followed Geralt around. Well, that and the rather selfish desire to be adored and lauded by the masses. But that was neither here nor there. If he could, he wanted to be able to leave behind a happy partner sated and feeling a little bit special.

With all his abilities to pretend, it was perhaps a bit of a surprise to everyone, including Jaskier himself, that he couldn’t manage it when it really mattered. He and Geralt had been dancing around each other for so long, reaching but pulling back at the last minute and brushing off moments as if they were accidents and nothing more. It got to the point that anyone who spent enough time with them realised. And got very very sick of watching their fumblings.

Poor Yennefer felt the brunt of this. She flitted in and out of Geralt’s life thanks to Destiny. At least they had managed to temper their connection into something they were both content with. Friends with benefits of decidedly not the sexual nature. Rather, if Yennefer ever needed a man for any reason (rarely a witcher, usually she just needed a male companion to an event or a meeting), she could call upon Geralt. Who, in turn, had a sorceress’ power at his disposal when he and Jaskier managed to make a hash of things and needed to magical rescue. It happened at a higher frequency than Geralt wanted to admit to.

This was the reason Yennefer got a front row seat to all the self-generated angst between two idiots. One a self-proclaimed emotionless monster, the other a lover of everyone and everything. And yet, neither of them were living up to their labels.

In the taverns they frequented, Jaskier would play to a captive audience, wink and flirt his way through sets. But as soon as he was done and sat down next to Geralt, the suave bard was gone, replaced by a hopeless idiot who stared but looked away when his gaze would have been met. For his part, Geralt was just as bad, staring lovesick at Jaskier as he played but averted his glances whenever the bard looked longingly his way. It made Yennefer want to smack them on the backs of the heads.

The next time Yennefer was with the two buffoons, they seemed to have gotten over their charade of looking when the other wasn’t. And while Yennefer thought it would be better after that, if anything, it was worse. There were pining looks, dinners where they stared into each other’s eyes for so long, it was Yennefer who felt awkward.

“You have a bit of-” Geralt gestured to Jaskier’s face without quite touching him. And Jaskier dipped his head with a soft “oh” and tried to wipe whatever it was.

“No, you missed it. Let me.” Geralt reached at the same time as Jaskier grabbed a napkin. “Oh. You got it.” Never before had Yennefer heard Geralt sound so disappointed. Not even when he lost his favourite Gwent card to her.

Things. Just. Got. Worse. They were camping in some woods after a hunt. Geralt was fresh back from the stream and clean though still a little on the stinky side. Guts and blood really imbued the skin with a hefty stench that took days and a lot of scrubbing to get out. He was sat by the fire, wrapped in a throw and stoically pretending he wasn’t cold. A witcher wasn’t affected by the elements. And Yennefer was a two bit hack who pulled an endless string of handkerchiefs from her sleeve.

“Here,” Jaskier beat her scathing comment with an offer of his fur from his bedroll. “You looked chilly.”

“Hmm.” It was as much of a thanks as Geralt could ever offer but he turned to gaze at Jaskier rather than the fire. They were close, so close. Jaskier was frozen, hands on Geralt’s shoulders as he adjusted the fur. Eyes dipped down to lips, tongues darted out to wet them in anticipation and Yennefer could have wept happy tears that her two idiots were finally going to resolve all their stupid tension.

At the last minute Jaskier pulled away and held his lute aloft. “Have I sung you my new song? It’s called Witcher’s Chill and is bound to be a hit. Especially in the winter months.”

The spell was broken, Geralt was blinking and pulling upright, building up the layers like the onion he was. And Yennefer could have screamed. For all that they had almost achieved, Jaskier was doing the equivalent of pulling away with a laugh and asking for a high five. Which Yennefer would freely give him. To the face.

“Can’t you two just kiss already?” She stomped her foot in frustration. “You both want it. It’s obvious. So why hold back?”

What she didn’t anticipate was Jaskier’s all too honest “because it’s scary when it actually means something.”

“What he said.” Geralt jabbed a thumb towards Jaskier. Yennefer actually screamed in annoyance at that. All their bickering. Their stupid disagreements. And when they finally share an opinion on something, it was about how terrifying it was to kiss the other because they had feelings.

Enough was enough. Yennefer stood up and stalked past them but not before grabbing the backs of their heads and shoving them towards each other none too gently. “That was as good as a love confession. Now get over yourselves. I expect you two to have figured your shit out by morning. I’m going to bed.”

Those were words she never thought she would regret. But regret them she did. Because while it was lovely that her two idiots finally figured things out. Now, she didn’t have a moment of peace and quiet as they kissed and giggled without restraint. Nobody was stupid enough to interrupt a witcher. Especially not when he looked to be having fun and smiling. After all, if a witcher was busy with his bard, he was less likely to terrorise the locals and haunt them with his grimace, brooding and general gloom.