I like coffeeshop au but I don’t like how they always seem to be about cute fluffy love. I want it to be about coffee shop itself.
I don’t actually want to write a plot or anything but let’s have a Witcher coffeeshop au where everyone else in the story is their modern, real world equivalent except for Geralt, who is the owner/only barista and the more they find out about him the more baffling his entire life becomes.
Because it’s Geralt the cafe is just called “Coffee.” He has one kind of coffee on the menu, two kinds of teas, lots of milk options but you have to add them yourself and they’re still in the original cartons. There’s buns and sweet buns. Don’t overthink it.
Nobody can guess which car in the small lot is his until one day someone hangs around until closing and sees Geralt ride off on a fucking horse he had parked behind the cafe.
The first really hot day of the year Geralt wears a shirt that reveals his giant arms and someone cracks a joke like “Did you get those guns pulling espresso?” He grunts and says nah, longsword. And goes back to wiping the table without further explanation.
Some asshole starts making a scene and is not smart enough to be intimidated by Geralt’s giant arms, but right as things look like they’re about to get violent Geralt flicks his fingers in a small deliberate pattern and says firmly, “Leave.” The guy shuts up and leaves without a word.
A skinny teenager comes in and geralt smiles for the first time that anyone has ever seen. She gives him a peck on the cheek and he wraps her in a huge bear hug. She steals all the sweet buns and leaves. Someone asks who she is, he lovingly watches the door and says it’s his daughter. Everyone is confused because she clearly does not have any blood relation to him, but hey, adoption is a thing.
Someone is reading Tolkien with a picture of a dragon on the cover. Geralt glances at the illustration, grunts the word “Inaccurate” and keeps mopping.
One of the regulars gets up the nerve to ask why he owns the cafe if he clearly hates people and does not really care about coffee. He shrugs and says it beats ghoul rash. When the regular says they’ve never heard of ghoul rash, Geralt leans in close and hisses “You’re welcome.”
That kid with the guitar occasionally comes in and bounces a quarter off his ass. There is a sign with his picture on the bulletin board reading “BANNED” and lists a number of offences, most of which boil down to Geralt is annoyed at the kids face. The kid is in here every other week.
Another thing was the sex, which was fucking incredible. They couldn’t get their hands off each other once they were alone together in the same room. Geralt had never felt so safe and confident with anyone before (maybe with Yennefer but that was a very long time ago).
But it’s not like things went smoothly between them. On their third night together, they’ve managed to break the bed. Jaskier promised to help Geralt buy a new bed. Geralt joked about them not having to worry about making so much noise anymore.
Another time Geralt carried Jaskier to bed while they were kissing, accidentally dropping him a little too close to the headboard. Jaskier hit his head, got a small cut, but it bled a lot. For an experienced nurse, Geralt started panicking. Jaskier managed to joke about it (even though Geralt wasn’t in the mood for jokes at all), barely talking Geralt out of dragging him to the hospital.
Jaskier “repaid” him later by accidentally kneeling him in the balls. “We are banned from having sex, ever again.” Jaskier had said after that, pinching the bridge of his nose. Geralt was quick to convince him otherwise.
Other than that, there were lame jokes, accidental tickling, falling asleep on the other in the middle of the act (Geralt isn’t old, he was just exhausted).
Geralt laughed, a deep and beautiful sound. “So beautiful.” He whispered, kissing Jaskier’s neck. The younger man couldn’t help but to shiver. He never had a partner who complimented him so much in bed. It felt nice. He didn’t feel like he needed to put on a show for Geralt or to impress him in any way.
He could just be himself.
“You okay?” Geralt asked, noticing that Jaskier had gone quiet. He pulled away, unintentionally giving Jaskier a full display of his chest and abs.
If he suffocates me with those pecs, I will die as a happy man.
Geralt furrowed his brows. “Jask, do you want me to stop? Say something.”
Jaskier shook his head with a smile. “I’m sorry, dear. I just got distracted by these-“ He poked at Geralt’s left pec. “Is it weird to want to marry a man’s pecs?”
Geralt rolled his eyes fondly, but Jaskier could see he was flattered.
Before Jaskier could even finish his sentence, there was a pair of strong but gentle hands grabbing at his hips. Geralt leaned in, nuzzling the back of his head, and placing a feather-light kiss just below his ear.
“I love this look on you.” Geralt murmured into his ear and Jaskier couldn’t help but to shiver at the way he sounded.
Jaskier slowly turned to face him, wrapping his arms around Geralt’s neck, and pulling him into a deep kiss. Geralt smiled into the kiss, tightening his hold on Jaskier’s hips. Geralt rubbed their noses together when they broke apart and Jaskier chuckled at the adorable gesture.
Jaskier finds out about Geralt’s enhanced senses months after meeting him. He is outraged. But it works out just fine in the end. Rated teen and up. First kiss.
—-
“You’ve been reading my mind?!” Jaskier shrieked.
“No,” groaned Geralt, “it’s not like that.” He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed the bridge of his nose, regretting every choice he had made in his life that had led him to that moment.
“Howcould you?! You never said!!”
Geralt opened his eyes, hoping to end the conversation with a glower. He leaned back against the closed door of their shared room. It was an awkward angle for a glower, but he made it work.
“Ohhhh ho ho, I don’t think so, Geralt.” Jaskier raised an indignant finger. “Don’t even try your little angry face. I do not give a single shit.”
Geralt sighed. “Stop that.” He gently but firmly removed Jaskier’s finger from where it shook in front of his face.
Jaskier sucked in a breath, ready to launch into a tirade. But when Geralt grasped his hand, he stuttered to a stop. A flush crept across his cheeks.
Geralt sensed the window of opportunity and leaned in. “Jaskier, to be fair,” he tilted his head forward and employed his best I’m trying to be reasonable here face, “a drunken mouse could tell when you’re lying.”
Jaskier wheezed shakily. “Rude!” It was an outrage. But Geralt hadn’t released his hand yet, which was scattering his nerves. “You leave Gordon out of this. He’s got nothing to do with it.”
“Gordon- Geralt blinked, momentarily stumped. “—nevermind.” He finally let go of Jaskier’s hand. Jaskier exhaled.
“Look,” Geralt continued, “It’s not mind reading. Its feelings. And normal, non mutated people can tell what others are feeling too. Can’t they? You can tell how people feel. Can’t you?”
“That’s different.” Jaskier crossed his arms and hunched forward. He had just been performing, so he had a sheen of sweat and a post-performance glow, despite his sour mood.
“Is it?”
“Yes!”
“It isn’t though. Think about it. How can you tell when someone is angry?”
“Well, Geralt, you can tell I’m angry because I am telling you that you are an asshole.”
Geralt pretended he didn’t notice the sarcasm. “Exactly. Or because your arms are crossed.” He gestured at Jaskier’s arms where he held them tight against his chest. Under Geralt’s scrutiny, he released them and laid them back at his side.
“Or, because your lips kind of-“ Geralt gestured at his own lips, wiggling his fingers, “puff up.”
Jaskier blinked in surprise. He brought his fingers to his lips. “Puff—?”
“Kind of what, Geralt,” Jaskier deadpanned. “My lips look kind of what.”
“The point is,” Geralt said strenuously, suddenly feeling the need to mop his brow with a sleeve, “my heightened senses are the same. It’s just putting together physical clues. I can just…add a few clues to the list.”
Jaskier narrowed his eyes dubiously. “Like what, exactly.”
“Um.” Geralt looked around as he gathered his thoughts. “Heartbeat. Pupil dilation. It’s not mystical I just don’t have to stand close to see your eyes or press my ear to your chest to hear…” Geralt’s eyes dropped to where the generous thatch of chest hair peeked out from Jaskier’s open shirt. He tended to unlace everything after a performance to “air himself out” and he traipsed around like that, driving Geralt to mad. “…your heartbeat.”
Geralt cleared his throat with an awkward hack and refocused on Jaskier’s face.
“Ok, and what else?” demanded Jaskier.
Geralt shrugged. “I can smell more.”
“Like sweat? If someone is nervous?”
“Yes. And pheromones.”
Jaskier yelped and stood up stock straight, startling Geralt. “Pheromones?? You know it when I’m horny?!?!”
Geralt frowned. “Sure.”
He said it casually as though it weren’t the single most humiliating thing that anyone had ever said.
Jaskier began to flail again and the register of his voice crept up to one better suited for dogs. “You absolute rat fucking bastard I am never speaking to you again!”
Geralt rolled his eyes and groaned dismissively. “Yes, Jaskier, like everyone else on the continent, I know that you’re horny literally all the time. Who cares?”
Jaskier jammed his hands on his hips. “I care. Because that means you know that whenever you are close enough to scent me, I am horny.”
“Right. You’re always horny.”
Jaskier’s eyebrows crawled up his forehead. “Do you really not see how those two things are different?”
He was standing close. So close. Geralt couldn’t think. And if he were being honest, he was extremely grateful that Jaskier could not scent lust. He tried to focus, replaying his words, and comparing them to what Jaskier had said.
“Wait for it…” said Jaskier with a voice so dry it could rival Geralt’s legendary sarcasm.
Geralt’s eyes widened in shocked realization. His jaw fell open, and his lips parted with a soft pop. “You feel. For me? No. That’s not true.”
Jaskier sang about sex and love. He wrote about sex and love. And people threw themselves at him at every performance. Geralt had always assumed that the warm, percolating, barely restrained desire that clung to the bard was just a permanent condition. And if it had been in response to any individual, it would have been for the fetching young farmboys and pretty infatuated barmaids. Not for him.
Too late, Geralt realized that his frozen expression of shock could also be taken as one of horror.
Jaskier slapped his arms against his side. “See what I mean? This is fucking humiliating. I’m leaving.”
“Where are you going?” Geralt blurted out.
“Anywhere but here.”
“When are you coming back?” he demanded.
“Never.”
Before he could stop himself, Geralt slapped a hand on the door. “Stop. This isn’t fair.”
Jaskier let go of the handle and turned the full fire of his furious blue eyes on him. Geralt almost took a step back.
“It isn’t fair, Geralt?!”
Geralt almost backed down. But he didn’t. “No. I can’t help that I have these powers.”
It was true. It wasn’t fair. It’s not like he’d chosen to have enhanced senses. And it’s not like there was a guidebook for when to notify your best friend that you knew far more about him than he realized. Also. He didn’t want Jaskier to leave. He just didn’t. Jaskier could not leave him.
Not over this.
Right?
“Let’s talk fair, Geralt,” Jaskier shot back. “You know everything I feel, and I know fuck all about how you feel, because you never tell me anything. It’s an unequal friendship Geralt. And I hate it. I feel so…exposed.”
Jaskier spun again and yanked at the door handle. He actually got the door open a crack.
“Wait!” Geralt almost shouted. The desperation in his voice shocked the both of them.
“What? What, Geralt?”
Geralt stammered and scratched the back of his head. His eyes slid away. Jaskier huffed and turned again to leave.
Geralt’s hand shot out, seemingly of its own accord. Jaskier looked down at Geralt’s hand curled gently around his bicep. This was the second time tonight he had touched Jaskier for no good reason tonight. He couldn’t think to hard about that right now. He began speaking fast, pushing the words out before he could take them back.
“Youcouldlistentomyheartbeat.”
Jaskier pushed the door closed with a click, and thankfully he was still on the inside of the room. Geralt heaved a sigh of relief.
“What was that, Geralt?”
“Alright. Ok. Um.” Geralt looked at the floor. “Say you…listened to my heartbeat. And you stood close enough to me to see my pupils. You would have the same information I would have.”
Jaskier sucked in his cheeks and considered for a moment. Then he shrugged. “Alright.”
He took a step into Geralt’s space.
Geralt hadn’t thought this one through.
Fuck.
He could feel the warmth of Jaskier’s breath agains his neck.
“So. You can see my pupils, right?” he breathed.
Jaskier hummed in the affirmative. His heart thudded furiously. That fetching flush was back on his cheeks, the one that made his eyes stand out, making them an even more powerful a force on Geralt if that was possible.
He felt the same way about Geralt. He had said it. Out loud. Geralt inhaled and found the courage to reach for Jaskier’s hand again. He dragged it to his chest and with both hands, pressed Jaskier’s palm to his chest.
“And that’s my heart,” he said stupidly. He tried to cover it with a joke. “See, I have one after all.”
Jaskier’s lips curled into a devious smile. He tilted his head. “We still aren’t even, Geralt.”
“No?”
They were almost pressed against each other now, chest rising and falling together. This went leagues beyond something just good buddies would do. But it was anyone’s guess how much further it would go tonight.
“No.” He flicked his eyelashes up and caught Geralt’s gaze. “I still can’t scent your lust. So how,” he brought his second hand up to press against Geralt’s chest, “am I supposed to know when you’re feeling desire?”
Geralt hooked his fingers in Jaskier’s waistband and with a firm yank plastered him against his chest.
“Can i just. Show you?”
Jaskier whimpered and nodded. Geralt could feel Jaskier’s knees going weak. So he wrapped his arms tight around his waist, and he kissed him.
They kissed soft and tentative at first. Then they grew desperate and searching. Geralt cradled his face and pressed his tongue between his lips. It was a long time coming, so neither had any intention of leaving it at one polite kiss. They kissed until they were both out of breath, and they staggered closer to the bed. When they finally pulled apart, Geralt asked
“Are we even now?”
Jaskier smiled primly. “I’ll let you know.”
And he dragged Geralt into bed.
——-fin
——————
I am rewatching Daredevil and the scene where Foggy finds out about Matty’s enhanced senses is SO emotional and SO beautifully written and acted.
And since Geralt has enhanced senses, that made me think about how Jaskier would react finding out that way. So I indulged in a little alternate canon fun.
Geralt is just taking an afternoon ride with his trusty steed Roach!
@dapandapod has written an amazing fic for roach!Roach and I’ll add it onto a reblog asap!
Roach-Roach, my beloved!
(On Ao3 here)
Things you need to know about Roach: 1. She is a shapeshifter. She is just not a very good one. 2. She is gender fluid but goes by she/her, because she can 3. She is ticklish, and when she walks in tall grass she makes her legs taller, or she will buck until Geralt falls off. 4. She once was a Platypus, and nobody could decide if that is brillian or not.
The first time Geralt saw the contract, he didn’t know what to make of it. But there it was, clear as day, on the notice board.
“Duck removal. Witcher wanted. Good pay.”
What. Alright. Geralt is intrigued. Geralt has spent a good 50 years on the path, but this is a first. He wonders what they mean by ‘good pay’, and why a witcher is needed for a ‘duck removal’.
Geralt takes the contract from the notice board and makes his way up to the lordling’s house. It is a rather grand thing, and the promise of ‘good pay’ increases with every step.
Turns out, a witcher was perhaps a good idea. And the pay is indeed good. The lordling leads him out back, his hands fidgeting nervously.
