I love your 007 au! Would you consider writing something where Geralt is working and Jaskier is watching the photoshoot or fashion show but someone gets handsy and keeps flirting even though geralt said no. (Arrogant rich asshole who thinks he can buy anything, including a pretty model)
oh gods yes I love the 007 au. are you also the anon that sent me the other really good 007 prompt currently halfway finished in my Workbox google doc??
tw: someone gropes Geralt’s without consent, protective Jaskier, Geralt is very chill the entire time
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Jaskier leaned against the far wall, well out of the way of the bustling set, and watched as the makeup crew fawned over his delectable boyfriend. Geralt preened under the secret agent’s undivided attention, ignoring the pawing and rearranging his team was doing to his hair and outfit. He batted his eyelashes at Jaskier before sauntering onto the set and up to the director.Â
007 was unfamiliar with this particular photographer; he’d been to a few of Geralt’s shoots and knew at least a handful of his regular employers. This one... there was something off about the way he was looking at Geralt, eyeing him up against the set as if the gorgeous white-haired model was no more than a prop himself.Â
The authoritative older man flicked his wrist dismissively and Geralt took up his usual position at the center of the cameras, beginning to pose in ways that would best show off his impressive and ridiculously expensive outfit. Jaskier liked the tight-fitting, high-waisted blue trousers they’d chosen to deck his boyfriend out in, but he could take or leave the blue and green paisley-patterned top tucked into the waistband. The sleeves were too loose, more artistic and psychedelic than Geralt’s usual business-casual or athletic fare. It didn’t highlight nearly enough of the model’s perfect physique.
Perhaps it was Jaskier’s advantage, then, that more of Geralt was hidden than displayed. He was a rather jealous creature, after all.Â
“Hey!”Â
The secret agent’s eyes focused intently on yet another new figure; a haughty looking young man with dark curly hair had entered the room and was upraising Geralt up close. Too close. It was Geralt who had shouted in the first place.Â
Jaskier narrowed his eyes and took a step forward. Geralt shook his head and the agent relaxed again, coiled and ready to strike if the need arose. The dark-haired intruder spoke in a low, oddly nasal voice, “Who is this darling piece of man on your set, Jacques?”Â
“This is Domino,” the photographer introduced. Geralt had taken to using his old nickname during shoots to keep his personal life and relationship with Jaskier away various international villains’ prying eyes. “Domino, this is Emhyr, one of the designers’ sons.”
“Lovely to meet you,” Geralt smiled politely. It was tense and didn’t quite reach his eyes, Jaskier noted.Â
“And very lovely to meet you, Domino,” Emhyr was practically drooling as he spoke, “Are you free this afternoon?”
“I’m afraid not,” Geralt said. “Nor am I available at all, actually.”
“Disappointing.”
“Em, darling, can we please finish up this shoot?” Jacques finally spoke up. “I’m on a bit of a deadline, you know.”
“Of course,” the young heir winked. As he was going to turn away, he took the opportunity to smack Geralt directly on the bottom. “I wouldn’t want to keep the masses from seeing this, now would I?”
Emhyr had barely finished verbalizing his very stupid question before Jaskier’s hand was around his throat. The photographer rushed forward, his hands fluttering uselessly at his sides as he tried to figure out how to intervene without being injured. He tapped Jaskier’s shoulder lightly, his eyes wide and terrified: “Excuse me, sir, but what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”Â
“You don’t just get to assault my boyfriend like that without paying the consequences,” Jaskier snarled. He dug into his breast pocket and dug out his ID card, flashing at the photographer with a quick glare. “I’ll take this outside. Are you alright, babe?”
Geralt was watching him with wide, adoring honey-gold eyes. The model nodded shyly, a light blush warming the skin of his cheeks. “Thank you, love.”
“Of course, my sweetest treasure,” Jaskier practically purred. “Now, I’ll take this trash outside and deal with it; enjoy your shoot.”
Jacques gave him a relieved, thankful look as he hauled the entitled young heir out into the lobby of the studio.Â
“Now,” 007 began, his eyes narrowed nearly to slits as he held onto the ruffian’s scruff, “Let’s have a little chat about manners, consent, and bodily autonomy, shall we?”
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Oml the 007 au is so frickin great, i adore geralt being himbo arm candy love is stored in the titty and i will probably lovingly pester you. But in the au what exactly are Eskel and Lambert's position/job?
Eskel and Lambert are freelance agents that occasionally work with MI6 on international missions.Â
Eskel specializes in covert operations and Lambert is a weapons specialist.Â
Geralt, the prettiest member of the family, has -1 braincell and looks great in Italian underwear so he became a model.Â
ok 007 prompt: turns out jaskier's not the only one in our duo with enemies...(stregebor, it's stregebor and he kidnaps geralt) ((but obviously jask rescues him and its fine))
I’m always here to put Geralt in a little bit of peril.Â
tw: horny, 1 backhanded slap
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Dearest Mr. Pankratz,
I believe I have stumbled upon something rather important to you. If you’d like to get it back, please meet me at the Palisade nightclub tomorrow evening at ten. I’ll be at the bar.Â
See you then,
Stregobor
Next to the carefully scrawled note was a polaroid photo of Geralt. His upper torso and wrists had been bound tightly to an ornate gold-painted chair. His eyes were wide and frightened, his snow-white hair was wild around his face and he’d been gagged with a strip of shiny red silk.Â
Jaskier ran his hand through his hair and grabbed the phone off the bedside table, dialing urgently. “Fuck, fuck, fu-hey! Q! We have a situation.”
---
Geralt wasn’t exactly sure where he was. He knew that Stregobor had drugged him at the club and hauled him off into the back of a stretched limo. He knew that Jaskier would’ve certainly noticed his absence by now. He knew that it was dark and that the windows had been covered with heavy drapes to keep him out of the loop.
“Domino,” the villainous mage/drug dealer chuckled. He entered the room and closed the door behind him, draping the furniture in twisted shadow once again. He crossed the small space and ran the back of his knuckles along one of Geralt’s cheekbones before pulling his hand back to deliver a rough slap. The captive man grunted as his head snapped to the side with the force of the blow, the sound of the impact still ringing through his ears. “It was foolish of you to think that you could evade me for so long. I’ve missed you; I’ve missed looking at you.”
There was nothing Geralt could do but breathe heavily around the gag and brace himself for the next potential strike. He watched Stregobor’s every movement with narrowed eyes but the mage had grown seemingly disinterested.Â
“Your precious 007 will be coming for you shortly, I’m sure,” the bearded man continued, pacing the length of the dim room at a leisurely pace. “And then I shall take my revenge on both of you. Until then, my sweet -” and this game with a venomous grin “- I suppose we have some alone time.”
---
Jaskier gathered Geralt into his arms, pressing kisses to whatever undamaged skin he could reach. The white-haired beauty was draped across his lap in the back of their escape vehicle, unconscious and disastrously pale. The snazzy silver car Q had hooked him up with was driving itself back to headquarters while 007 tended to his lover’s wounds. They were nasty-looking on the surface but were mostly superficial, thank the gods.Â
“Oh, my sweet,” the secret agent murmured softly, “I should have gotten there so much sooner. I’m so sorry, love.”
“Jaskier?”Â
A pair of golden eyes fluttered open and 007 nearly sobbed. He buried his face in Geralt’s chest and bit back his tears. The wounded man gripped weakly at his shirt; Jaskier cupped the back of Geralt’s neck to better support his weight, settling him gently in his lap. “I was so worried that they’d killed you. Or worse.”
“They barely roughed me up,” Geralt chuckled. “I’m much tougher than I look.”
“You look rather dashing, actually,” Jaskier smiled. It was wan and thin but it was better than the panicked look he’d been wearing when he first came to Geralt’s rescue. The white-haired man grinned sleepily and let himself relax into the secret agent’s strong, firm arms. “Go to sleep, darling. I’ll keep you safe.”
Omg okay, hear me out: 007 AU where Jask is in the shower or something and Geralt get curious about the spy tech he's got on the nightstand and Jask freaks out bc "Geralt that could kill you!"
Anything for you, boo. <3
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Jaskier sang in the shower.Â
It was cute, really. Especially since Geralt knew that his boyfriend was one of MI6’s most important and well-respected field agents. His reputation had been so swathed in mystery that now even Geralt’s existence had been called into question, which was excellent. He hated being a bother; he was always getting kidnapped or being used as bait or falling into obvious fucking traps. Really, the handsome young man would have prefered to just lounge around at their Italian villa and drink wine and sunbathe.Â
But no. Jaskier didn’t like to sleep alone and Geralt didn’t like to think of all the other pretty young men out there who had picked up on his boyfriend’s other reputation (which was well-deserved, in Geralt’s humble opinion), so he tagged along on the missions he was allowed access to. Usually he just stayed at their hotel and kept the room ready for when his exhausted, braindead lover returned. He’d order food, give Jaskier a massage, and kiss him to sleep so he’d be ready to hunt down terrorists and covert agents again the next day.
Today, though, 007 had dropped his laundry to the floor and hopped directly into the shower. “Sewer chase. I feel gross.”
When Geralt went to gather up his boyfriend’s messy clothes, a peculiar item fell to the ground. It looked like a packet of gum, but one of the pieces was sticking slightly out and there was a thin wire taped to it. He was about to pull it out for a closer look when Jaskier shouted, “No!”
Geralt dropped everything in his hands and spun to face the panicked secret agent. “What’s wrong!?”
“That gum it’s- That could have killed you, my love. It’s a micro-detonator.”
“Oh.”
“Yes. Sorry for scaring you,” Jaskier apologized, stepping closer and looping his arms around Geralt’s waist. “I promise not to leave dangerous things lying around anymore, darling.”
“Just don’t frighten me half to death when you have to rescue me from your own carelessness, alright? Kinda defeats the purpose.”
Jaskier used his arms around Geralt’s waist to pull the slightly taller man into a deep, romantic dip. He kissed the model breathless and smoothed his soft white hair out of his face. “No.”
