Chapter Text
When Jaskier had gotten the call that he had finally been booked for a show, he didn’t ask any questions and began packing as quickly as possible, before the casting director could change their mind. He had been sending out audition tapes for years, knowing that being on television would boost his musical career. After going through multiple auditions with several talent competitions but never making it to recording, his agent had suggested trying other types of reality shows to get the name Jaskier out into the world and his voice into people’s ears. His agent told him it was a dating show with a unique premise that he would be told more about once shooting began.
“Oh, and you’re okay with getting married, right? I told them you were fine with that,” his agent added after telling him which of his clothes she believed were his ugliest.
“I’m sorry, married?”
There were few times in his life Geralt had ever been as violently mad as he was walking into the sleek lounge that was part of the set. He had fought tooth and nail to avoid being apart of this ridiculous dog and pony show, but when Calanthe Riannon tells you she’s cashing in a personal favor, your only choices are compliance or death. Geralt had met Calanthe while he was doing stunt work for a Netflix series about cops or superheroes, maybe both, he couldn’t even remember. During the course of filming, he had caught the eye of Calanthe, who had been determined to get him into mainstream acting. Geralt continued to turn her down; he had focused on martial arts training for years and had no desire to act. After pestering Geralt for years, it seemed like she had finally given up when she donated an ungodly amount of money towards the martial arts studio Geralt taught at, but he should have known better. Somehow this donation resulted in Calanthe forcing Geralt onto her newest project, a dating show.
“Honestly, Geralt, this will be better for you than it will for me. Not to mention it will be hilarious. Hopefully, you can find a woman to put up with you. Maybe then you’ll actually smile about something other than beating the shit out of another person,” Calanthe had huffed at Geralt when he called her for the fifth time trying to get out his now contractually obligated favor.
A few weeks later, Geralt had a makeup artist smearing something on his skin while another woman tried to brush through his shoulder-length gray hair.
“Seriously? The clothes you wore for your first appearance are black jeans with a black shirt and black boots? These aren’t even nice boots, these are shit,” a woman from the costume department hissed at him.
“I do not want to be here,” Geralt grunted as the hairdresser gave a particularly hard tug. After smearing him with a variety of creams and getting him mic’d, Geralt was finally deemed good enough to join the other male contestants. He scanned the room, taking in the men who were already there. He could see why the stylist had been so frustrated with him; almost every other man was dressed in a suit. The majority of them looked as though they had stepped out of the frat house straight into a J Crew magazine. Geralt wandered over to the kitchenette to look over the alcohol that had been provided for them, avoiding the men who tried to approach him by slapping his back and calling him “bro”.
“I love how you just sit in the corner and brood,” a thin, brunet man almost Geralt’s height leaned on the counter next to him holding a wine glassed filled more than halfway with red wine.
“Hmm,” Geralt looked at the man from the corner of his eye while pouring a beer. He was wearing a bright blue blazer with an open, white button-down underneath. The combination made his cornflower blue eyes pop out from under his fringe. If Geralt wasn’t so focused on consuming as much alcohol as quickly possible he would likely call the other man handsome.
“I’m Jaskier, by the way,” He paused, clearly waiting for Geralt to introduce himself. “I’m a singer, but I’ve been without a muse. Hoping to meet the love of my life, maybe get a little inspiration along the way.”
“Geralt. I suppose it’s too late to tell you I want to get drunk and enjoy some quiet before my life is ruined for entertainment purposes?” Before Jaskier could respond, a man and woman entered the room.
“Hey everyone, how’re you doing?” The man asked as all the men turned toward the two, a few calling out some greetings of their own.
“I’m Vanessa Lachey,” the woman introduced herself.
“And I’m obviously Nick Lachey, her husband,” the man followed, a cheesy grin plastered on his face. Geralt rolled his eyes before quickly downing his beer. He was not drunk enough for this. “Welcome to the Blind Love experiment. Here, you will choose someone to marry... Without ever seeing them.” A few of the men chuckled nervously while Jaskier gulped. Geralt couldn’t help but agree.
The two continued to explain the concept of the show, going on about the importance of “emotional bonds” and “deep connections”. They finally finished by explaining the contestants would have dates where they would be in individual pods talking to the female participants through the wall, not getting to see each other until after they had proposed.
“You’ll leave together an engaged couple and in four weeks you’ll be married,” the hosts continued. “Now let’s get started!”
A few of the men whooped in response as they were led out of the room into a hallway.
“Fuck.”
Yennefer quickly scanned the small room she had been brought into. The entire pod seemed to radiate pink with the exception of a decorative blue wall, behind which she assumed was one of the male contestants. She walked to a table along the wall on which there was an assortment of food, drinks, and a small black notebook. After grabbing the notebook, she sat on the couch, smoothing the black dress along the curve of her hips. Trust her luck that after the many surgeries she had had and years of suffering a back brace to cure her scoliosis she would end up on the dating show trying to preach that looks didn’t matter. She chuckled at the thought. She had spent the first 18 years of her life learning just how important looks were. Suddenly, she heard a noise from the other side of the wall.
“Hello?” She called cautiously, unsure of just how loud she would need to be.
“Hello,” she heard the tentative reply. “I’m Istredd.”
“I’m Yennefer,” she responded.
“Yennefer? What a lovely name.” She smiled at that response. Of course, every man here was likely a romantic. Why else would someone decide to go on a show that expected you to get married in four weeks?
“Why thank you, Istredd.” Yennefer replied.
“Why don’t you tell me a bit about yourself?” Istredd asked. Yennefer opened her notebook and quickly wrote down ‘Istredd’ with a star next to his name.
Jaskier poked his head into the small room, looking around briefly before approaching the blue wall.
“Hello?” A gentle voice from the other side of the wall called.
“Oh, Hi!” Jaskier called out in surprise, jumping back a bit. “I’m Jaskier. Whose wonderful voice am I hearing at the moment?”
“My name is Triss,” called back the voice, sounding slightly amused. That’s fine, Jaskier can work with amused.
“Triss! A beautiful name for a beautiful woman,” he hears a chuckle.
“You can’t see me, Jaskier. That’s the entire point of this; you have no idea if I’m beautiful.”
“First of all, all women are beautiful, so jot that down. Secondly, your voice is the very embodiment of sunshine so there is no possible way that you’re not as radiant!” He hears a laugh that sounds as if it burst past her lips by accident.
“Oh, Jaskier. You’re going to be trouble, aren’t you?”
“Jaskier was cute,” Triss sat facing the camera head-on. “I mean, not literally, of course. He came on a bit strong, but I guess the point of this show is to find a partner, right? So no point in pretending to be something you’re not.”
She briefly paused.
“After just one meeting, it’s hard to determine what kind of person someone really is but yeah, I think I would like to spend more time with Jaskier. I like when someone can make me laugh.”
Geralt sat on the couch in the pod grasping a glass of vodka he had found in the room. He had slouched down while the last woman, Sabrina, had talked endlessly about the crystal jewelry she sold on etsy. He could tell from her voice she was nervous, but he hadn’t felt the need to respond to a single thing she had said. And he now knew more than he had ever wanted about quartz.
“Hi,” he heard a voice say softly.
“Hi,” he responded. After the first few women, he realized he needed to affirm he was there with more than just a grunt.
“I’m Pavetta.”
Geralt was quiet for a moment. That name was familiar... Wait.
“Pavetta? You’re not Calanthe’s daughter?”
“You know my mother?” Pavetta sounded genuinely surprised at the idea that another contestant might know her mother while Geralt groaned at her affirmation.
“Unfortunately, yes. She’s actually the whole reason I’m here. I’m Geralt.”
“What a coincidence, she’s the reason I’m here too.”
“What exactly did you do to upset your mother so much that she’s torturing you like this?”
“I actually begged her to let me on the show,” Pavetta softly responded. Geralt could hear shuffling as he assumed she settled onto her own couch. “It’s hard dating in Los Angeles when people can find out your mom is a famous producer from a quick google search. Do you have any idea how many times I've been handed a script on a first date?”
“Fuck,” Geralt winced in sympathy. “So you turned to this?”
“When she told me the premise, I just thought it sounded so romantic. Falling in love with someone for their soul... I figured it was better than redownloading tinder. So after talking it over, she agreed to let me on. I think she also likes the idea that she has some control over who I choose.”
“Hmmm.”
“Geralt seemed nice, although not exactly excited to be here.” Pavetta hummed as she seemed to think. “Considering he doesn’t seem like he’s taking this very seriously, I probably won’t try to meet with him again. He’s certainly better than the man who demanded I tell him my bra size and if I was still a virgin before we had any further conversation though.”
Geralt sat with his arms crossed staring into the camera.
Jaskier paced as he waited for the next woman to be brought into the room across from him. His notebook was already filled with his scribbled notes about each woman he had talked to so far; Triss had been a delight, Sabrina had been anxious but sweet, he had struggled to fill the time with Fringilla as she answered every question with a disinterested voice, and Kalis had left him with the impression that she wanted to get married as soon as possible to whoever would agree.
He heard the door open as someone else entered.
“Hey!”
“Hello,” answered the voice.
“I’m Jaskier. What’s your name?”
“I’m Yennefer.”
“Yennefer, let’s cut to the chase since I’m sure you’ve had the same conversation five times already today. What do you do for a living?” There was a pause from the other side of the wall.
“Wow, you’re getting right to it. I work in politics,” Yennefer responded dryly. “How about yourself?”
“Politics? That sounds dreadful. I’m a musician.”
“You think politics is dreadful but you’re a musician? They’re practically the same.”
“They are not!” Jaskier yelled and tried to calm himself as he continued. “Music is beautiful! It’s about expressions of true love, sorrow, the experiences we all share as human beings.”
“Ahh, so that’s why I heard the same Arianna Grande song five times on the drive over here?”
“Wha- that’s, that’s- pop music has extreme societal value whether you accept that or-” Jaskier sputtered.
“It’s fine, Jaskier. I’m sure you’re a good musician, but the thing that makes a successful politician is the same thing that makes a successful musician. And that’s being able to play the game.”
“Yennefer is a wench,” Jaskier rants to the camera, punctuating his words by shaking his pointed finger. “Just because she is a pessimist who is unable to accept the beauty and power of true love does not mean I will ever give up!”
“Jaskier is an idiot,” Yennefer smirks at the camera. “But he was one of the most entertaining conversations I had today. Can I say I want another date with him if I just want to keep antagonizing him?”
Geralt has moved from slouching to trying to mold himself into the couch until it would finally absorb him. Renfri had exhausted him. Who knew a woman could make every sentence sound like a threat and a come-on? He wasn’t sure if he should be horny or scared. Either way, he was double-checking the lock on his door before he went to sleep tonight. He had already met with what felt like a dozen women and was about to start begging to be released when he heard the door open once again and he sighed.
“Oh, excuse me, am I interrupting your very busy time?” asked the cool voice that had just entered the opposing pod.
“Actually, you are. I was just wondering how much more vodka I would have to drink before they’re legally required to take me to the hospital.”
“Trying to escape already? It’s only the first day.”
“Hmm.”
“A man of few words I see. I’m Yennefer.”
“Geralt.”
“Geralt, were you raised with horrible manners or did you develop them entirely on your own?”
Geralt sat up as he felt a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“I’m sorry to have offended you so early into our meeting.”
“Oh please, to offend me I would have to actually care,” Yennefer sounded as though she had taken a seat.
“You don’t care but you’re on a dating show?” Geralt asked.
“I could ask you the same question.”
“That’s fair.”
“Yennefer was not horrible,” Geralt said with a straight face.
“I’m very excited to talk to Geralt again,” Yennefer had a coy smile. “I have a feeling things are about to get very interesting.”