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eddysocs · 2 years

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Lilting Melody (Jaskier x OC)

Summary: Minnia is tasked with babysitting a young Ciri and has a hard time trying to get her to sleep. Thankfully, a bard's song gives her much needed help.

Word Count: 1,069

Warnings: None

A/N: Gif credit goes to @valiantwerewolfluminary

Minnia always enjoyed Cintra. She felt so at ease around Calanthe. While most treated her as nothing more than a silly little princess, Calanthe showed her respect, allowed her to be herself. With Calanthe, she became young woman with substance rather than just a pretty face with nothing to say. It was her visits with the Cintran queen that made her not hate being a princess.

On one such visit, there was an air of strife within Cintra's borders, and Calanthe seemed more distracted than usual. She still treated Minnia with her usual demeanor, but Minnia could tell there was something more pressing weighing on her mind than Minnia's own company. Minnia was about to ask her about it, when Mousesack swiftly approaches and whispered something to Calanthe.

"Minnia," Calanthe began, drawing Minnia's attention. "Would you watch over Cirilla for me? I have an urgent matter that has just come up that I must attend to."

The suddenness of the request caught Minnia temporarily off guard and it took her a second to reply. "Of course I would," Minnia finally managed. She’d never really taken care of children, and with Ciri only being five she wasn’t sure she fully trusted herself to watch the girl, but if Calanthe held that trust in her, it must be something she thought she could handle.

"All you have to do is get her to bed," Calanthe assured. "And if you can manage that, I may take you on permanently," she joked. Minnia smiled politely for Calanthe's sake, but the joke had only served to heighten her nerves.

As Minnia departed for young Ciri's quarters, she took several deep breaths, muttering to herself that she could handle this task. She just hoped Ciri wouldn’t prove too difficult. She opened the door to find Ciri playing, clearly not ready for any sort of sleep, and Minnia dare not interrupt her play, opting instead to let her tire herself out.

"Hello, Ciri. I’m Minnia. I’m a princess from another kingdom and I’ve come to watch over you for your grandmother. Is it okay if I stay and play with you?"

Ciri nodded, but didn’t really pay Minnia much attention, favoring her toys to any company. But Ciri allowed Minnia to play with her, as long as she followed her gentle instruction. And Minnia was happy enough to play along with whatever she wanted.

It was only when Ciri let out a big yawn that Minnia broached the subject of bedtime. "We should get you to bed. You don’t want to be tired in the morning," Minnia reasoned, though the sound logic was lost on the child. Ciri did not like the idea of going to bed when she was having such a good time playing with her numerous toys, but Minnia decided she had to be the firm voice of reason and try to get the tired child to sleep. Ciri put up a fuss as Minnia began to put some of the toys away, but Minnia had asked so nicely that she put the ones she held away that she couldn’t find it in her little heart to fight her on it.

Yet still the girl did not want to sleep. Minnia tucked her into her bed snugly and told Ciri a fairy tale that her mother often used to tell her as a child. She thought Ciri would like it and drift off to sleep as she let the story unfold, but at the end, Ciri remained awake.

The only other thing she could think to do was carry her around the castle grounds as Minnia's father had always resorted to on the nights when Minnia could not otherwise be soothed. Only a girl of seventeen years herself, managing to pick up the five year old Ciri wasn’t the easiest of tasks, but Minnia found a good balance, resting Ciri on her hip as she took her outdoors. Thankfully, the summer night was warm enough to not need to dress any differently for the weather. It was a quiet, clear night out and Minnia pointed at the stars, hoping Ciri would see them twinkling in the sky and realize it was past time for bed and drift off. After a while of this, Minnia realized she was having no such luck.

Minnia takes another path she hadn’t yet taken the overtired child on, and several feet down the way, the two heard music being played. Minnia kept a slow pace, letting the music grow closer and louder gradually in hopes of Ciri falling asleep to it. She felt it was her last chance to succeed in her task that night.

A soft tenor voice sang out the words to a love song, though Minnia could not make out all of the words from their distance just yet. It was a lovely melody and she swayed gently to it, drawing ever closer, hoping to reach the minstrel by the song's conclusion.

Finally, she was able to see him, a young man playing a lute and singing the peaceful and romantic tune. He possessed scruffy brown hair and was dressed in clothes slightly too big for him. "Ah, fair lady," he enthusiastically greeted Minnia as his song came to its close. When she drew close enough, he could tell that she was shushing him and then he spotted the sleeping child in her arms.

"Princess Ciri has just gone off to sleep," she whispered to him. "And that is only thanks to your charming song."

"Thank you. It is one of my own composition. My first, in fact. Well, my first that was any good that is." The bard made sure to keep his voice low as to not wake the sleeping girl in Minnia's arms. Minnia tittered, hoping her laughter wouldn’t jostle the girl awake.

"I should really get her back and put her to bed before she should wake again," Minnia explained, reluctant to part with the cute bard.

"I understand, my lady. I will play you off with the same song, shall I?"

"That would be lovely," Minnia replied, a bright smile lighting up her face in the moonlight. "And thank you again," she added.

"It’s been my absolute pleasure." So he began his song again as Minnia took Ciri back to her bed. And the bard, Jaskier, waved them a goodbye, unseen by either as they disappeared back into the night.

Minnia: @dancingwith-sunflowers, @adrianas-ocs-and-such, @dollvi3e, @borg-queer, @chickensarentcheap, @tropetember

#oc: minnia of redania #fc: sarah bolger #fd: the witcher #minnia x jaskier #tropetember

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teresa-of-ficwill · 3 years

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Silly Hat (Geraskier Fic)

I've got too inspired by Season 2 trailer and Jaskier's new look so here we are.

‘Your hat looks silly,’ it was the first thing Jaskier heard from Geralt after- well, it has been a long time. A year or so since what happened on the mountain. Since Geralt broke his heart with all the cruelty the witcher was capable of.

Jaskier wanted to say that he healed. That he was capable of leaving his feelings and his dear witcher behind. He wanted to say it but he couldn't because it would be a terrible lie.

He didn't heal, not even a little. Now, looking into these yellow cat eyes, it felt even worse than it was before. Because Geralt was here for some reason. And for some reason, he didn't like his hat.

Jaskier took off his hat. ‘I think it looks cute,’ he answered.

The hat was not the only thing that changed. His hair became longer and his clothes- well, they just became different. He didn't feel like himself recently. Actually, never since the mountain.

‘It's silly,’ the witcher repeated, and Jaskier didn’t feel like arguing with him so he left his hat on the table.

‘Well, maybe,’ he said and then sat on the bench. ‘Do you want something else or telling me I look silly was your purpose?’

‘You don't look silly. Just the hat,’ Geralt sat on the bench too. ‘You look- different.’

The bard chuckled sadly, ‘Should I take this as a compliment or-’

‘I liked your performance,’ the witcher interrupted him, and Jaskier looked him straight in the eyes, a little bit confused. Surprised.

‘Em- thanks,’ the bard muttered. ‘No need to lie tho. I know you don't like my singing.’

‘It's not true.’

‘Well, you said it's like ordering a pie and finding out it has no filling, so-’ Jaskier remembered, trying not to remember how much these words hurt him back then.

‘I don't like pies with filling,’ said Geralt and the bard's eyes widened. ‘They are too- sugary.’

Okay- now Jaskier was confused more than ever. So it was- a fucking compliment?

‘I like your singing,’ the witcher added in case the bard still didn't get it.

Jaskier shook his head. ‘Anyway, why are you here?’ he asked because everything felt strange.

‘I came to- to invite you with me.’

‘Where?’

‘To Kaer Morhen.’

‘Why? After all you said it isn't even logical.’

Geralt sighed. That's it, that's the talk he was so afraid to have. ‘I was wrong. And I'm sorry.’

‘You said that my disappearing from your life would be a blessing!’ Jaskier exclaimed. ‘Don’t expect me to believe that you are sorry.’

‘I am. It was a huge mistake. I didn't mean all these words.’

Jaskier shook his head, staring at the table. ‘It's not fair,’ he muttered.

‘What?’

‘It's not fair!’ Jaskier shouted, suddenly jumping to his feet and making Geralt flinch a little. ‘After all these days when every word you said tortured me and my broken heart didn't let me sleep, you just come and say you are sorry?! What do you expect me to do? Believe you FUCKING AGAIN?!’

‘Jask-’ Geralt reached out but Jaskier immediately jerked back.

‘I can't, Geralt. I just can’t. I won’t survive another broken heart,’ he said before grabbing his lute and running away.

The witcher sighed, looking at the silly hat the bard left on the table. Some mistakes cannot be fixed and it was so painful to think that Jaskier’s broken heart was one of them.

***

Jaskier wasn't sure where exactly he was running but he was definitely running away. He wasn’t ready to believe Geralt again because he had already felt like a fool after believing that Geralt would someday love him back during all these years. He was a fool. Such a fool.

‘Are you alright?’ a girl with long blonde hair approached him.

‘I- I'm not sure,’ Jaskier answered, completely out of breath.

‘Do you need help?’ she asked. ‘My name is Cirilla, by the way, but you can call me Ciri.’

‘I'm fine, don't worry.’ he tried to assure her.

‘Why were you running then?’

‘Well, I-’ Jaskier struggled to find the answer. ‘It's complicated,’ he finally said. ‘And what are you doing here?’ the bard asked because he managed to run away from town and now was somewhere in the field. To meet a 12 years old girl there was strange.

‘I'm waiting for my dad,’ she answered. ‘He said he needed to go to town to talk to someone very important. I think he meant “apologize for what he has said and done” but he actually isn't good at those things,’ Ciri chuckled.

‘And he left you alone?’

‘I can take care of myself. And also he said he will return soon,’ the girl smiled. ‘Our camp is near, do you want some tea? You can tell me what made you so sad.’

‘I’m not sad.’

‘Yes, you are.’

In a few minutes, he was sitting in a small camp near the fire. A few trees were hiding it from the main road. A horse was grazing not far from the hastily organized camp. Ciri held out a cup of tea to Jaskier.

‘Where are you traveling with your dad?’ the bard asked when the girl sat near him.

‘I’m not sure. He said that he would take me home. I've never been there so it’s kinda exciting.’

‘Never been- home?’ Jaskier repeated, a little bit confused.

‘Well, he is not my real dad, I’m kinda adopted. But he likes it when I call him that. Never admits it but I know he likes it.’

‘Mhm,’ the bard muttered, processing the new information. ‘Do you have a mother?’

‘Do you mean the real one or if dad has a wife?’ Ciri asked, smiling.

‘In all this situation, I think the second,’ Jaskier said, taking a sip of tea. If this girl was adopted by a man who wasn’t her father, it seemed like she didn’t have any relatives or all her relatives were dead. The bard wasn't sure what was better.

‘No, he hasn’t. But he has someone he loves. Really loves, like with all his heart. Talks about him for hours. Actually, he went into town to find him. I have never met him before but dad assured me that I would like him. Dad said he sings beautiful songs. It seems like you sing too,’ she pointed at the lute which was laying near them.

‘I’m a bard. Songs earn me a living,’ Jaskier answered.

‘Bards are cool,’ Ciri smiled, making Jaskier smile too. ‘What’s your name again?’

‘Oh, sorry, I didn’t introduce myself. My name is Jaskier.’

The girl looked really surprised, ‘Jaskier?’

‘Yes. Why are you-’ he started but wasn’t able to finish the question because they suddenly heard approaching footsteps.

‘It must be my dad,’ Ciri said.

‘Well, maybe I should go then-’ Jaskier started but she interrupted him.

‘No, wait here. We’ll be back in a minute.’

***

If you wanna find out what happened next, follow the link to my ao3 😉.

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pillage-and-lute · 4 years

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Did you want the plot ideas to be on the heavy or on the light side? If heavy: Jaskier accidentally gets sent back in time to before the attack on te Kaer and struggles with the choice of changing things(if he even can) or not, so as to preserve the timeline. If light: ...(damn having issues with this one) Jaskier's de-aged and the whole kaer is afraid they'll scare the kid, but jaskier saw witchers as heroes even as a child. Que blushing witchers while jaskier is all star-struck.

Ander-s, this is so great! I don’t actually know too much about the witcher outside of the show. (I’m trying to read the book but im also just...sooo adhd) so I’ll write baby jask, especially since im feeling fluffy tonight, but also not quite.

TW: child abuse and neglect, mentioned child death

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“Geralt,” Yennefer said. “You know how I’m a very powerful sorceress who is still healing from Sodden and also your very good friend and important ally?”

“That’s a mouthful,” Geralt said. Ciri was destroying him easily in Gwent and he was thankful for the distraction. Then he saw the look on Yen’s face. “What did you do.”

She stepped aside.

There was a child, maybe six, wearing one of Jaskier’s chemises. He had one hand buried in her skirt and was holding on tight, as if she were his mother.

“What...”

He didn’t get to finish, because the child was walking over to Vesemir, tugging Yennefer by the skirt.

“Excuuuse me mister,” he said through one gap tooth. “Are you a witcher? Because some day I’m going to meet a whole lot of witchers and write all stories ‘bout them.”

“Jaskier?”

The boy turned very big blue eyes on him.

“Papa says I’m not allowed to be called Jaskier, he says Jaskier is silly and I hafta be Julian.”

“Do...do you want to be Julian?” Geralt asked, dumbfounded.

“Nuh-uh,” mini-Jaskier said. “But mummy called me Julek sometimes, so that one’s okay.”

Geralt looked from Jas-Julek to Yennefer, then back to the kid, then back to Yennefer.

“You turned my boyfriend into a... how old are you, Julek.” The boy held out one hand, fingers splayed.

“I’m five and a half, and papa said that if I’m good and don’t make trouble I can listen to the minstrels for my sixth birthday.”

“He’s so cute!” Ciri squealed, forgetting their Gwent game. “I get to be his big sister!”

Lambert grinned like the cat that got the cream. “Uncle Lambert has a nice ring to it.”

Eskel nodded. “I could get used to Uncle Eskel.”

“No, no no no,” hissed Geralt. “That would imply that I’m his daddy--father.” He caught himself too late.

“I dunno Geralt, what do you like Jaskier to call you in bed?” Lambert grinned evilly.

“Not around little ears,” Vesemir snapped.

“Yup,” Ciri said. “My ears are little and I absolutely don’t know what sex is.”

“Miss Yennefer,” Julek said. “Are all of these men witchers?”

“Yes Julek,” she said. Her voice had a soft tone Geralt didn’t normally hear from her. Julek sank back against her legs, looking nervous. It was such a big difference to the bubbly countenance of before that the wolves drew back collectively.

He hadn’t seemed afraid of witchers before when he walked up to Vesemir, but now it practically radiated from him.

“I shouldn’t be here,” he said. “Papa will be very angry and I’ll be sent to my room again.” There was more fear there than the threat of grounding should hold. Yennefer picked him up, tucking him close and coddling him gently.

“Does he often send you to your room?” she asked.

“Only when I deserve it,” Julek whispered into her neck. The wolves of Kaer Morhen heard it anyway.

“What do you do to deserve being sent to your room, Julek,” Yennefer coaxed.

“If I talk too loud, or go where I’m not suppos’d to, or if I talk to people papa doe’nt like,” he said, sounding tearful. “Then I go to my room an’ nobody visits or talks to me and I’m there all alone.”

“How long, Julek?” Ciri asked, peering at him around Yennefer’s arm.

“A week.”

Lambert had a face like a thunderclap, Eskel looked fierce, and Geralt’s heart was breaking. Ciri nearly had tears in her eyes. Vesemir just looked stony.

Geralt knew what he ws thinking of. Vesemir had just been a swordfighting instructor, not instrumental in the Trials. He’d even been known to read a scared boy to sleep, once in a while, but much worse abuse had been handed out within these walls, however, than a week’s solitary confinement. And Vesemir was in the keep year round, listening to all those ghosts.

“Your papa isn’t here,” Yennefer was saying. “Just us and these witchers and Ciri, so it’s okay, and you can talk to them.”

“Really?” the boy lifted a tear stained head. He practically leapt from Yennefer’s arms and right to Geralt.

“I have questions,” he said importantly. “And you should answer them because I’m going to write a book.” Eskel and Lambert were practically cooing, as Julek got his thoughts together.

“When will this wear off?” Geralt asked Yen.

“Probably by tomorrow,” she said. Ciri looked a little dissappointed.

“Excuuuse me,” Julek said. “This is very important. I’mma be a scho-scholar on witcherness.”

“Yes Geralt,” Vesemir said, mock sternly, lifting the little boy onto his knee like a doting grandfather. “No interrupting Professor Julek.”

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Just a little drabble I suppose, maybe more sad than sweet. Uncles Lambert and Eskel pictured below

#geraskier #not in this one tho #grandpa vesemir #de-aged Jaskier #Eskel #Lambert #cirilla fiona elen riannon #yennefer #who is a good mom #askbox answers

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ruffboijuliaburnsides · 4 years

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🥰 for the Witcher of course

A/N: Milos was created I believe by Fayet on AO3 who writes Hibernating With Ghosts which you should all read.

[surrounded by love]

Vesemir was the first person to love Geralt, he thinks. He doesn’t remember if his mother loved him, and he has significant doubts about whether she did or not, since she left him to be raised as a witcher.

But Vesemir was gentle with him, gave him a name of his own, took him back to Kaer Morhen with admonitions that it would be a hard life but that his brothers would always look after him. He didn’t understand the “if he survived” part until later, when he was a bit older, but it was true nonetheless. There was a fair amount of bickering and bullying among the younger boys who hadn’t gone through the trials yet, but if it came down to it they always had each other’s backs, just sometimes they weren’t nice about it.

Vesemir taught him to hold a sword, to fight with a sword, to keep moving even when he wanted to fall over. Vesemir, he learned years after the fact, had pushed back against the choice to put Geralt through a second round of the Trial of the Grasses, said that they needed a witcher who came through the first round in such (relatively) good shape. And it was Vesemir who was the kindest to him and the most protective of him, in his own rough and hard way, after he emerged from the second round different and strange and uncertain. And he’s never stopped.

Eskel loved Geralt immediately. They were of an age, though Geralt had been in Kaer Morhen longer when Vesemir brought Eskel to the youngest boys’ dormitories, but Eskel had been bigger. Just a little taller, just a little stronger.

“I’ll protect you,” the boy declared with complete childlike confidence, taking Geralt’s hand and jutting his chin out as if daring anyone to argue, and Geralt said, “Ok,” and let it happen.

When there were bullies or injuries or sickness, Eskel was always right there. When they came through the Trial of the Grasses (the first time, for Geralt), Eskel was worse off but still managed to crawl his way to Geralt’s cot and squeeze onto the tiny thing with him, holding him even as he trembled nearly out of his skin from the pain and the fear.

(Geral never tells Eskel how much that moment meant to him, even if he wasn’t so badly off. He never tells Eskel how much any of the things he’s done over the years mean to him. Eskel doesn’t need him to.)

And after the siege that destroyed their brothers and their home, Geralt came back to find Eskel had arrived much quicker than he had, that he and Vesemir had already dealt with the bodies and the worst of the bloodstains. And even hollow-eyed and grieving, the first thing Eskel does is walk to Geralt, pull him into the tightest hug of their lives, and ask if Geralt is okay. If that’s not love, Geralt has never experienced it, but he’s pretty sure it is.

Lambert loves Geralt in the same way he hates Geralt: loudly, intensely, and jealously. Their relationship is fraught, always. When Lambert is twelve, he begs Geralt to take him away onto the Path, promises he’ll earn his keep, and in the first big city he can go his own way. Geralt declines, and Lambert’s hatred crystalizes in that moment, from idolization to jealousy.

But other times, as he gets older, especially after the siege, Lambert also provides comfort. He’ll needle Geralt to the point of lashing out, and at Vesemir’s command to “take it outside!�� they’ll get their swords and spar for an hour, sometimes more, and when the fight eventually ends, even though it almost always ends with Geralt’s sword at Lambert’s throat, Geralt feels better and Lambert looks satisfied and relieved.

It’s almost as if Lambert doesn’t know how to care for someone without hating them a bit too. Geralt tries not to think about it, because Lambert deserves to be able to pour out that love he carries inside himself without having to lace it with hatred and violence.

Coën loves Geralt, in the way you love a cousin you were never close to. The Gryphon isn’t a regular winter resident in Kaer Morhen, exactly, but then neither is Geralt.

Coën teaches him moves that his school perfected, that don’t naturally mesh with the way the wolves were trained to fight, and talks at length about Milos and how he learned it.

Milos was a smallish, blond-curled Wolf who was killed in the siege. By all accounts, from Vesemir and Eskel, it looked as though he’d died doing his best to protect the littlest of children. He’d travelled with Coën (inasmuch as witchers travelled with each other, which was to say mostly meeting up every few weeks in a previously determined location) for over a decade. They would never let Coën go with that sort of connection. They knew it was there.

And Coën is always a little worried about them all. He may not love them the way he loved Milos, but he doesn’t want what happened to Milos to happen to them.

Jaskier loves Geralt.

Sometimes facts are just facts, and a best friend will always love you.

Jaskier loves Geralt steady and true until Geralt can’t stand it anymore and breaks his heart and pushes him away.

(And even still, that broken shattered heart keeps loving him, even when he doesn’t remotely deserve it.)

Yennefer loves Geralt, though not always the way either of them want her to. The draw is the djinn, they realize eventually, but the feelings are her own. It’s complicated in the end - she doesn’t want to be kept or bound, and he doesn’t want to be left behind, and yet somehow both of them have managed to entangle the other in the things they want least.

“We could’ve been a great love story,” she says one evening, years down the line, sitting at the fireplace in Kaer Morhen’s library after dinner. “Something your bard would’ve been fit to burst about writing.”

“Hmm,” Geralt says, and falls silent. It’s a long time before he says, “I don’t think that was what we’re meant for,” just before Eskel and Jaskier come in bearing alcohol and glasses, Lambert carrying a tray of bread and cheese. It doesn’t leave Yen any space to argue, or agree, or say anything.

Geralt’s not sure he can handle hearing too much about exactly what kind of love she feels for him. Not just yet. He can’t quite handle the thought of Jaskier writing a song - well, another song - about them, especially after the heartbroken bitterness of the others.

Ciri loves Geralt with all the joy and power and carelessness a traumatized child could hope to love.

She is fire and passion and anger and bitterness and kindness, and it’s all Geralt can do to open himself to accepting all her emotions and trying his best to give back even half as good as he gets.

He doesn’t. But he tries. He’s her father, and he will always try.

Jaskier loves everyone. It’s not clear at first, how much he loves. Geralt sees him with Ciri, combing her hair and holding her after nightmares and singing silly songs and pretty songs and songs that he clearly wrote about Geralt but with more subtle imagery than Geralt’s used to from him. He’s always known Jaskier was talented, even if he didn’t enjoy the fruits of his labor, but this is something else entirely, a story that is clearly about Geralt, the most honest songs he’s heard about himself from the bard’s lips, but without ever once mentioning wolves or witchers. He doesn’t know why he hasn’t heard these songs, or why they exist. He’s afraid to ask. Ciri seems to already know them well.

Geralt sees Jaskier with his brothers, even with Coën, and feels like he might burn from the warmth in his chest. The lazy ease with which Jaskier interacts with them. It’s not that he’s not nervous, he clearly wants to make a good impression, but Jaskier is warm and open and most importantly not afraid of any of them.

He is never afraid, and it terrifies Geralt more than anything he can think of, and makes him improbably proud to have been the bard’s first witcher. His brothers love Jaskier right back, in their ways, Eskel with cheerful-yet-terrifying facts about monsters and witchers and the dark places of the world, Lambert with insults and very restrained physical harassment, Coën with solemn offers of helping him train to be a better swordsman than he is, so he can protect himself out in the world.

He sees Jaskier with Yennefer, their previous animosity softened somewhat. They still snipe at each other, pulling at the threads of each others’ insecurities and fears, but if they go too far, they back off, which they never did the first times they met. Geralt sees Jaskier say something saucy (judging by his expression) to Yen one day, and expects Yen to retaliate or slap him, but instead Yen laughs - bright and loud enough that even as far away as he is, Geralt can hear her - and kisses Jaskier’s cheek. He doesn’t know what they’ve built, but he’s glad it’s there, holding them up if he can’t be there.

Vesemir is an enigma in some ways, but Jaskier manages at least to get into his affections, judging by the strict tone he takes with Jaskier while he watches him train with Eskel or Coën, or the firm way he steers the exhausted bard to the dinner table, or the baths, or his own room. It makes Ciri laugh, and Jaskier always sighs when this happens, just following along with a teasing (but somehow also respectful), “Yes, Papa Vesemir.”

And then...

And then.

Jaskier loves Geralt.

It doesn’t make sense. And after some time away, Geralt can process and internalize that it was never meant to be solely platonic. That Jaskier was willing to take whatever love he could get, but that the love he gave was more than that. It overflowed to everyone in Geralt’s life, spilling over and over and over, doing its best to fill everyone up, and somehow Jaskier manages to do this without coming out of it drained and exhausted and unable to love.

He kisses Geralt one day, after singing Ciri to sleep.

“I can’t handle this anymore,” he admits, and Geralt doesn’t know what he means. He tries to say it, pained and uncertain and terrified that Jaskier’s leaving, but Jaskier watches his face and the strange openness of his expressions, and he smiles.

“You can’t either, can you?” he asks softly, and Geralt lets himself whimper, just a tiny bit. “Well,” Jaskier says, a spark of heat and delight in his voice as he presses against Geralt’s body. “We’ll just have to fix that, won’t we?”

Every important person in Geralt’s life loves him, and when it matters they all love each other as well. And while he doesn’t know how to process or handle this fact, he knows that he never in a million years would give it up for anything short of saving their lives.

And all the people around him continue to love him.

#the witcher #jaskier #geralt #geralt of rivia #geraskier #ciri #yennefer #eskel #vesemir #lambert #coen #the witcher fic #askbox meme #my fic #i'm actually really pleased with this

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andyet-here-we-are · 4 years

Text

Head Over Feet

Words: 4,057 Chapters: 1/1

Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion

A/N: Thanks @3tothe1 for checking my errors. You are the best, sweetheart.

Additional Tags: Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, but not that much angst etc so no worries, Fluff, Geralt writes a song for Jaskier, Geralt sings to Jaskier, mention of nightmares, Happy Ending

I hope you enjoy reading this, my dear Witchlings! 💛

(P.S: I highly recommend listening to Jonah Platt’s “Head Over Feet” cover since I was inspired by it, but shhh, we’re gonna pretend that Geralt wrote that song.)

***

“No, Jaskier. I won’t fucking sing. You better stop waiting for it.”

“But Geralt!” Jaskier whined, “You promised me!”

Yeah, right. The promise Jaskier wasn’t supposed to hear in the first place.

The promise Geralt was more than glad he had heard nevertheless.

“And now I’m saying that won’t happen.”

About two weeks ago, being the foolish, brave bard he was, Jaskier had tried to distract a Slezaerek so Geralt could kill it effortlessly. It had worked, but not without a cost, sadly.

Jaskier was hurt in the progress of doing that, and “Witchers don’t have feelings” his ass, Geralt was more than terrified that he was going to lose his little hummingbird for good this time.

“Just keep your eyes open, please,” the Witcher had almost begged as he tore a strip from his already ripped doublet and tied it cautiously around Jaskier’s wound to stop the bleeding.

“You need to keep your beautiful eyes open, understood? Jaskier? Do you understand?”

He wasn’t supposed to sleep. He shouldn’t. Because the thing with Sleazaeraks was, getting bitten by one meant there was no waking up ever again if you fell asleep.

Too bad the poison they had in them was enough to put a whale to sleep.

“And w-what’s in it for me?” was Jaskier’s answer, eyes already heavy with sleep. The antidote the Witcher made him drink wasn’t near enough to what he needed, yet he still hoped that it would be enough to keep Jaskier awake for a while.

“Keep your damn eyes open,” Geralt wanted to say.

And maybe the old Geralt, who rarely expressed his feelings to anyone unless those feelings had gotten something to do with anger, would say that.

But what left his mouth instead was: “I’ll sing a song for you if you hang on, if you don’t fall asleep. Just hang on till I get you to a healer.”

“Promise..?” The bard’s eyes had closed for a second before he revealed his baby blues to Geralt again, “you have to promise. It feels so tempting to sleep right now, my dear. You–”

“I promise. Hang on for me, little hummingbird. You always wanted to hear me sing, right? You have to hang on then.”

Thanks to all the gods in every religion -if they even really existed- Jaskier had managed to stay awake with Geralt’s help.

“I’ve been waiting for this moment all my life!” Jaskier walked towards him with loud and determined steps, breaking the Witcher away from his thoughts.

“You have been waiting for only two weeks. Don’t be dramatic.”

“No, I’m not being dramatic, I’m being honest. You stop talking rubbish. I’ve been waiting for this moment all my life!” Jaskier insisted with a little, cute frown, making Geralt let out a small chuckle.

Yennefer rolled his eyes at the bard, “Ever the dramatic. Also, honest? Really? You are the most dishonest person if your songs are anything to go by.”

“You. Lying. Snowman.” The dramatic bard in question ignored her, poking Geralt’s chest with his index finger between every word. “I knew it, I fucking knew you wouldn’t keep your promise! I should have just kept my eyes closed!”

“Don’t say that.” The Witcher said. “You…”

“You wouldn’t be here now if you did,” was unheard. But Jaskier understood anyway.

“At least I wouldn’t have to witness such a– such a betrayal!”

Instead of saying something, Geralt looked at Yennefer, she gave him a knowing look in return -which Jaskier didn’t miss, of course-

“Wait a minute, you’re hiding something!”

“Yeah, his desire for killing you so you would finally stop nagging like a bitch,” Yennefer sighed tiredly, clearly feeling a bit annoyed by Jaskier’s antics.

“I’m not hiding something,” he lied.

He was definitely hiding something, but Jaskier didn’t need to know that.

Not yet.

“I hate my life sometimes,” the bard kept complaining, crossing his arms and finally accepting that he wasn’t going to hear Geralt singing today: “Anyway, I’m not cooking today, you are on your own.”

“And how is that supposed to be a threat? Jask, no offence, but even Ciri cooks better than you. We nearly had food poisoning the last time you tried to cook.”

“I’m sorry. What do you mean by even?” came Ciri’s voice.

Well, fuck. He probably shouldn’t have said that.

“Hey, I’m gonna go take a walk, wanna come?” Jaskier asked Ciri before Geralt could answer Ciri’s question.

“He is trying to save my ass even when he is mad at me,” Geralt thought, looking at the bard with such a loving look, but then the other man added: “Betrayed people gotta stick together, you know,” and that loving look immediately turned into a “Disappointed But Not Surprised” look.

“Sure,” agreed Ciri, giving Geralt a meaningful look before she disappeared into the woods with Jaskier.

“Wow, you really have no idea how to talk a lady. Also, you better figure out how to complete that song before your bard gives you another tantrum and crush his lute over your head or something,” said Yennefer

“Helpful as always, Yen.”

He couldn’t deny that she was right, though.

***

After spending six more nights to complete his song, Geralt was finally ready to fulfill his promise finally.

It was certainly going to be a big surprise for Jaskier since Geralt had made it clear that he wouldn’t sing. And just three days ago, Jaskier had apologized to him.

“I’m sorry that I kinda overreacted before,” he had said. “Okay, not kinda. But I just… I’ve always wondered what your singing voice sounds like, so when you said you weren’t going to sing, I felt disappointed. Anyway, I wrote a new song, you wanna hear?”

So, yeah. He was gonna be so surprised.

And oh God, he had no idea how Jaskier could do it before so many people. “Having the voice of an angel probably helps,” his mind suggested not-so-helpfully.

He had an audience of three people, three people that mean the world to him, and he was already stressed as hell. He would rather sing to an Ethereal instead.

The Witcher didn’t even know how to do this. How should he start? By saying “I’ve written a song for you,” or by singing out of the blue? Should he stand while singing? Or is it a better idea to just sit?

And for God’s sake, where should he put his damn hands?

Would it be weird if he just kept his hands at his sides? Would that make him look like a puppet in a box or something?

For a moment, he wished he knew how to play the lute. So he could just sit down and play it, not having to think about his hands. He should have let Jaskier teach him when he offered it months ago. Well, there was no point thinking about that now.

“Okay, Geralt, give yourself a minute. You can do this,” he assured himself and took a deep breath. “Just remember why you’re doing this, and just do whatever feels natural. Say something romantic before you start, maybe.”

When he took a look at Jaskier, who was sitting by the fire across from him with Ciri and talking to her excitedly about something, he knew that he shouldn’t be worried about any of these things. And he shouldn’t worry about forgetting the words, even though he felt like he would forget and make a fool of himself.

“Jaskier!” He called as Ciri stood up to go to Yennefer’s side. “Are you planning to shut your mouth at least for a couple of minutes anytime soon?”

“So much for making a romantic remark before you start singing. Well done Geralt, way to go,” a voice inside his head scolded him as Jaskier said something he failed to catch. It wasn’t his fault that it was what felt natural. Being romantic wasn’t his strong suit, but he was trying to improve.

“Okay, so. It won’t be the best song you’ve ever heard, but it’s the best I can do. If any of you laugh at me while I’m singing, I’ll kick your sorry asses.”

“Wait, wha–”

He took a deep breath once again and started singing, keeping his eyes on Jaskier as he gaped with wide-open eyes.

“I had no choice but to hear you

You stated your case time and again

I thought about it

You treat me like I’m a damn prince

I’m not used to liking that

You ask how my day was”

He heard Ciri letting out a little chuckle at the “damn prince,” part, and he gave her a warning look before turning his gaze on Jaskier again, standing up.

There was no lie in it, Jaskier did treat him like he was a prince. He treated the Witcher like he wasn’t someone people were afraid of, but someone good and royal. Someone who deserved to be respected. Someone who deserved all the compliments in the whole world, not ugly slurs.

Someone who deserved to be loved.

“You’ve already won me over in spite of me

And don’t be alarmed if I fall head over feet

Don’t be surprised if I love you for all that you are

I couldn’t help it

It’s all your fault,” he sang, pointing at the bard while singing “it’s all your fault.”

Geralt nodded at him like saying “yes, I mean you, you silly bard,” when Jaskier briefly looked around as if he wasn’t sure Geralt was singing to him.

Of course, he meant him.

Because it sure was his fault.

It was Jaskier’s fault that his smile was more bright and dazzling than the afternoon sun, warming Geralt inside every time.

It was his fault that he had the biggest heart of gold Geralt had ever encountered, filled with so much love.

His fault that he had a voice that would make angels weep with jealousy. His fault that he was just so… Jaskier.

“Your love is thick and it swallowed me whole

You’re so much braver than I gave you credit for

That’s not lip service”

He found his hands moving naturally against his will as he sang. Guess he was worried for nothing.

“You’ve already won me over in spite of me

And don’t be alarmed if I fall head over feet

Don’t be surprised if I love you for all that you are

I couldn’t help it

It’s all your fault”

He sang the chorus once again, walking towards the man who he was able to render speechless for once, for a good reason hopefully this time. Speechless, and surprised as hell.

When he was finally in front of Jaskier, he reached his hands out tentatively towards him, hoping that the bard would just take the hint and hold them. Sadly, he didn’t. So Geralt just bent over and grabbed his hands, pulling him up from the log he was sitting on. Then, with a barely audible sigh, he closed his eyes, not sure if he could sing that part while looking at Jaskier.

He kept singing after swallowing thickly to find his voice again, not letting go of the bard’s dainty hands:

“You are the bearer of unconditional things

You held your breath and the door for me

Thanks for your patience

You’re the best friend that I’ve ever had

Let’s be boyfriends

What are we waiting for?

What took me so long?”

“Did he just ask him to be his boyfriend?” Geralt heard Ciri gasp quietly.

“Fucking finally,“ he was sure that Yennefer was rolling his eyes right now, “they were already acting like boyfriends anyway. Well, or more like an old married couple.”

Wait, were they?

Deep down, he knew that Jaskier had feelings for him, too. But still, he couldn’t help but think “What if I’m wrong?”

What if he was opening his heart only to get it broken?

No, no way.

He was being ridiculous.

Jaskier loved him, too. There was no way that would happen.

He knew that he did. Maybe Geralt was just too stubborn to see it at first, maybe it got him decades to accept that someone could truly love him, yeah, but he finally did accept it.

They loved each other.

And it was only Geralt’s fault that he kept pushing Jaskier away from himself for so long.

It was only when he finally was succeeded, he regretted it.

He regretted it deeply.

He was aware of everything after having to spend half of the year Jaskierless - yes, it was a real word to him, more real than any word, even, it meant “suffering” “pain” and “sadness” in his dictionary - he was aware of his love for him.

If anything, it was Jaskier who should have been afraid.

Afraid of getting hurt by him again, afraid of being vulnerable again.

Because he had already laid his heart bare to the Witcher before, yet Geralt had broken his heart so badly.

But Jaskier had given him another chance anyway, and Geralt had promised himself to do his best not to make him regret it.

The white-haired man had said goodbye to The Old Geralt right when he got that chance.

“Goodbye,” he had told him, “no longer hiding behind excuses, no longer always avoiding to express yourself. Maybe it will be difficult to say goodbye to you, I know. And you will appear again in front of people I don’t know, as it should be, but I have to say goodbye to you. ‘Cause if I go on like this, I will only cause harm to my loved ones, thinking that I am protecting them.”

Perhaps it seemed like there was no radical change at all since one couldn’t suddenly say goodbye to the person he had been for years. Old habits die hard, after all.

But changing was the important thing, no matter how slow.

Back in the day, Geralt would pretend he didn’t care or like it whenever Jaskier composed a new song. But the new Geralt would make little comments on his songs instead of acting like he wasn’t even listening.

And even just saying “That’s a nice song,” or “I don’t hate it,” with the tiniest smile was enough to make Jaskier happy. It was enough to make him realize that things weren’t the same anymore.

The new Geralt showed it when he was concerned for the bard, and he paid attention to Jaskier’s feelings, to his warnings, to him.

He tried his best to make it up for his every mistake.

He tried his best to be the friend Jaskier deserved since the very beginning.

It wasn’t just a one-sided deal, though. Because Jaskier had his own regrets as well, and he knew that neither he nor Geralt was flawless.

There were moments Geralt would get mad about something that had happened; moments that required him to be alone for a while.

While old Jaskier would try to lighten the mood with jokes and would force him to say something, new Jaskier wouldn’t do that.

He would just say: “I’m here if you wanna talk,” and when Geralt was back, he would do his best to make him feel better. He would get him in the bath if Geralt wanted him to, washing him with such care. Then he would make him a nice cup of tea before insisting that he needed to take a nap.

Not once would he open his mouth to say anything about whatever had upset Geralt unless the white-haired man said something about it first.

One of these days, Geralt had asked the bard while he was washing the Witcher silently: “Do you remember when I said that I needed no one..?”

With that question, the gentle hands that massaging his scalp had come to a halt.

“You know what they say,” Jaskier had replied bitterly, the tone of hurt in his voice making Geralt ache “one has to forget first to remember.”

“I was wrong,” Geralt had admitted with a mumble after a moment of heavy silence, turning to his right a bit and reaching over to hug the bard’s legs. “I was so wrong.”

“I need you,” he had thought, his hair dampening the other man’s trousers, “I need you in my life, Jaskier. I can’t say it out loud, but please hear my silent words. Find them in my actions, find them in my touch.”

As if reading his mind, Jaskier had moved one hand to Geralt’s bare shoulder and caressed the skin there gently and slowly before saying: “You have me, Geralt. And I’ll be in your life as long as you want me to be. As long as you act like it.”

Things had changed again after that. In a good way.

They had become more touchy with each other. Jaskier was already a touchy person, but Geralt couldn’t say the same for himself.

Normally.

After their little conversation, Geralt was feeling more comfortable with showing his affection with little things, like ruffling Jaskier’s silky hair when he would pout, annoyed at Geralt for something. Or when he would do something impressive.

Little things like calling him “little hummingbird” instead of just “bard” because Jaskier reminded him of one.

Just like a hummingbird, he was unique and beautiful in every aspect, and it was hard to catch up with him since he was constantly in motion. Also, he usually talked non-stop and when he would stop singing or talking, he would start humming this time. And eh, let’s not forget about his colourful outfits that suited him so well.

So, Geralt called him “hummingbird”, and he could swear that Jaskier’s eyes shined with happiness whenever he called him that.

Maybe he could finally call him “my little hummingbird” pretty soon.

“I’ve never felt this healthy before

I’ve never wanted something rational

I am aware now

You’ve already won me over in spite of me

And don’t be alarmed if I fall head over feet

Don’t be surprised if I love you for all that you are

I couldn’t help it

It’s all your fault”

And he was done.

Yet, even after he finished singing, he couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes.

When Jaskier pulled his hands away, he felt his heart clench in his chest. He cursed himself in his head, feeling too anxious to even breathe. Did he fuck everything up? Just like that? Did he just misread everything like a goddamn fool?

What was gonna-

Before he could ask himself any further questions, he felt a feather-light touch on his cheeks.

He opened his eyes only to find Jaskier’s stunning blue eyes shining with tears, looking at him like Geralt had just caught the moon for him.

Geralt waited for him to say something.

Anything.

“Was my singing so terrible it made you cry?” He asked when Jaskier said nothing in a full minute. The bard’s face was so close to his that he could count the drops that were nestled on his long eyelashes.

The white-haired man wiped his tears away with his thumb gently as he leaned in to press their foreheads together. “Or you didn’t like the song? I believe it was much better than The Fishmonger’s Daughter.”

He knew that Jaskier would say something if he made a comment on one of his songs. This was a trick he had learned a long time ago.

“Excuse me,” here it came, “but The Fishmonger’s Daughter is a great song.”

“No, it isn’t. You just sing ‘ba ba,’ and ‘ta-da-da’ for half of the song. Even four years old can do that.”

“And people love it. They love to sing along and it’s catchy, also it has a story in it like every one of my songs,” Jaskier claimed with a weak voice and swallowed as Geralt ran his fingertips lightly along the side of his neck. He sounded like he could break at any moment as he whispered after wrapping one hand around the Witcher’s waist: “Now will you just shut me up with a kiss or should I just keep–”

And who was he to deny Jaskier of something he wanted as well..?

So Geralt shut him up with pressing his lips against his soft lips, kissing him gently but passionately. At first, Jaskier just held him close instead of kissing him back, but then his eyes closed and he returned his kiss with equal fervour.

He could hear the distant cheering of Ciri and Yennefer as they kissed for God knows how long. It was strange how a couple of minutes had felt endless, but also too short at the same time.

“Hey,” Jaskier swallowed again when Geralt pulled back a little and broke the kiss so they could take a breath, “I’ve never heard this song before. Where did you…”

“Because it was written for you, you silly, beautiful dandelion,” answered the Witcher. “By me.”

A beat.

And with that, a loud sob broke free from Jaskier’s throat, tears falling freely over his beautiful face as the sound of footsteps going off into the distance was heard.

“I’m so afraid that this is all happening in my head,” he whispered, burying his head on Geralt’s shoulder, his frame shaking slightly. “I’m fucking terrified that this is nothing but a vivid dream. I’ve waited for so long, Geralt. Countless times I’ve dreamed about hearing you say that you wanted me, too. Not just as a friend, but more. And now, I–” Jaskier took a shaky breath, “Could we just…”

Geralt hugged him, rubbing small soothing circles on his back, not needing Jaskier to complete his sentence.

He knew what he meant anyway.

Because Jaskier wasn’t the only one who felt like this.

There were nights Geralt would still wake up in cold sweat, finding it hard to believe that Jaskier was in the same room with him for real.

More often than not, the bard wouldn’t realize that Geralt had woken up since he was a heavy sleeper who wouldn’t notice if an earthquake happened. So, the white-haired man would just watch him sleep until he could convince himself that he was real.

An impulse to brush his fingers through Jaskier’s silky hair would come up every time without any exceptions.

Sometimes he would almost reach out to him, but then he would instantly retrieve his hand, afraid of waking him up even though he knew that he probably wouldn’t.

But sometimes, he couldn’t resist that impulse and would brush his fingers through Jaskier’s hair oh so carefully. And then stroke against the softness of his cheek before pulling the thick comforter over him, smiling because: “this is real.”

In that rare moments when Jaskier would wake up to see Geralt awake, trying to calm himself, he would ask him what was wrong. And the look Geralt would give him would always be enough for him to understand that what his nightmares were about.

The bard would pull him into his arms then, singing softly, lovingly in his ear.

“Can you just…”

Geralt would start after Jaskier would stop singing eventually, but he could never finish his question.

He could never ask: “Can you just keep holding me for a little while longer?”

But he didn’t need to.

“Sure,” Jaskier would keep holding him as Geralt would close his eyes, listening to the relaxing heartbeats of the bard.

“I’m here, you adorable, big snowman,” he would whisper afterwards. “I’m here.”

So, no.

Geralt definitely didn’t need him to complete his sentence.

“Yeah,” he nodded, pulling him even closer to himself, not even able to tolerate being two-inch apart from him, “we can stay like this, Jaskier.”

“Don’t let go,” Jaskier begged after a while, “Please, don’t let go.”

Just like he did when his screams would break the silence of the night sometimes, alarming all of the Witcher’s senses with concern.

Just like when Geralt would hold him loosely to calm him down, telling him to just follow his breathing and to breathe with him, nice and slow as he would take Jaskier’s hand and place it on his own broad chest.

“Never.” He assured him sweetly, breathing in Jaskier’s heavenly scent and placing a little kiss on his shoulder “Never again, my little hummingbird.”

Seriously…

What took him so long..?

#the witcher #geraskier #jaskier #geralt #the witcher fanfiction #my writing

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abluescarfonwaston · 4 years

Text

Shapeshifter AU- 15

Masterpost

“Sooooooooooo.” He drew out the word in the hopes that by the end of it he’d have a conversation.

“I didn’t ask you to come.” Lambert snapped at him.

“I know. But fishing is way more fun than stone repair. Besides I haven’t gone swimming in a while and it’s starting to eat at me.”

“It’s the middle of fucking winter.” They both pulled their jackets a little tighter around them.

“Some of my forms are insulated enough that its not actually a problem thankfully.”

“Which one’s the best? That way I know which one to skin you for.”

“You didn’t skin me that first night, you’re not going to skin me now. Especially since I’m the warmest person in the keep.”

“Right now you look colder than me.”

That was true. He was cold. That dragon form ate through his – well Ciri’s- magic like a pack of starving witchers. He wasn’t sure that he felt colder than he did before but it certainly seemed like it.

“How much further to the damn lake?”

“She’s getting close.”

Ciri was ahead of them. Well out of hearing range for him and probably her but not Lambert. He suspected at least. But he could still hear the melody of her song. Cautious. Eager. Excited.

The snow crunched under their feet and he finally thought of a conversation. “I haven’t actually met that many other witchers.” Lambert snorted. “Is your friend from a different school or did they just not want to come back for winter?”

Lambert stopped and growled at him. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

He took a step back. Lambert took a step forward.

“The night you arrived? When you almost skinned me? You remember that right?”

He’d been camped outside Ciri’s door. She was having nightmares. He could hear it in her song. But they said he was being overprotective- Overbearing even- going to her every time she had a nightmare. So he was camped outside her door. Her white wolf ready to wake her if they became intense enough she’d bring the keep down around them.

Then Lambert had arrived.

Covered in snow from the dangerous trek up the path and exhausted and swinging.

“The fuck did a wolf get in here!”

He shifted out of the way of the blade at the last moment before jumping into human. “Geralt’s bard! I’m Geralt’s bard! Please don’t kill me!”

His stance eased but he didn’t put the sword away.

“That’s not Geralt’s room.”

“No- no you’re right. That’s Ciri’s room. His- Geralt’s child of surprise.”

“Oh I bet Eskel loved that.” He slowly eased the sword back into its sheath. “And you’re sleeping outside it because?” He didn’t let go of the blade.

“She has nightmares.” And he didn’t want her to bring the keep down around them if they got out of hand. “Why would Eskel have a problem with it?”

“That’s weird. None of your fucking business shifter.” He stalked off. The scent of him still tickling at his nose.

A smell that had changed the next time he’d smelled Lambert.

“You smelled different. Like another Witcher. Which I thought was just you but you don’t smell like that normally and not for nothing but you witchers all have a rather distinctive smell.” Like death and destiny. Heartache and heroics. Also onion. It was rather distinctive. “So I didn’t think your friend was human.”

Lambert shoved him into a tree. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

He blinked. “Alright then?”

“Don’t fucking mention him again shifter. Got it?”

“So it’s a him!” He chirped. “Promise not to mention him ever again!”

Lambert shoved him. Turned sharply and stalked off.

“So he’s not a wolf witcher then?”

“What did I just fucking say.”

“How’d you met? Was it on a hunt? Do you work together? They say two can live as cheaply as one which I haven’t found to be entirely true but that might just be since Geralt can’t live off bird seed so.”

A knife was pressed to his throat. “Don’t. Fucking. Mention him again.”

“Alright. I just thought you might want to talk about your friend.”

“I don’t.”

“I’d just be very sad if I couldn’t talk about Geralt all winter. So I thought-“

“You thought wrong.”

“Okay.” Lambert eased off and with one more glare hurried toward the lake.

He followed quick at his heels. Lambert shoved his hands deeper into his pockets.

“His name’s Aiden.”

“A lovely name.”

“Fuck off.”

“Lambert the lake’s frozen!” She called out when they arrived. “I thought we were fishing!”

“We are.” He passed her a bomb and lit it. “Better throw that quick.”

She did and he pulled her behind him as Lambert shielded them with quen when the ice shattered.

“Well that’s certainly quicker than drilling a hole.”

He grinned. “I think so.”

They huddled next to the hole. Lambert directing Ciri how to set the bait.

He stared at the water. His skin itched.

He dove in.

Above he heard them yelling mutedly. He swan through the water. A fish darted past him.

He chased it.

Chased it up and up and up and-

Right past the hole.

He popped his head out. Chirping his annoyance.

They stared at him blankly. He grabbed the net and pulled it into the water. Lambert grabbed the handle before it slipped under, cursing his confusion.

He dipped back under. Chasing a fish right into the net.

After a few attempts of course.

“That works.” Lambert said pulling the squirming fish out of the water.

He chirped his approval and caught them a few more.

Then he got bored.

He dredged the bottom of the pond, carefully avoiding the sharps that occasionally lined the muck.

And then he found it.

The perfect stone.

He pulled it from the muck. Speared his way from the depths. Scampered onto the shore.

Held it up for their inspection as he chittered its praise to them. Explaining exactly what made this stone perfect.

It’s the smoothness you see. And the color. The color and the shape and the size. Yes see this is the perfect stone. You must agree. I mean. Look at it!

They both stared at him. Heads cocked.

“Do. You want us to throw it?” Lambert asked. Face scrunched in uncertainty. “Geralt mentioned throwing sticks. Is that like this?”

He held it closer to his chest. NO. HOW DARE YOU EVEN SUGGEST SUCH A THING. THROW MY PERFECT STONE! HOW DARE YOU!

He raised his hands in surrender.

“It’s? Very nice?” Ciri suggested.

He nodded. Turned it over in his paws. It was very nice. The shape the color the-

A small patch had dried and it was. Rather less impressive.

He set it down and dove back in.

This next one. This one was actually perfect. Yes. This one was.

But the shape was.

He dove back in.

Again.

Ag- “Jaskier we should head back soon.”

Her hand stopped him from jumping back in. He looked up at her. Her cloak had a light dusting of snow. When had it started snowing?

Couldn’t let the pup get cold. He stepped away and shook dry as Lambert readied their haul for transport.

“Are you going to carry all those back?” He asked, motioning to the. Well rather sizeable pile of stones.

He shifted. Pulling the cloak tighter around him as the leftover moisture froze against his skin. “No I suppose not. Sometimes my instincts just get the better of me.”

“Otters collect rocks?” Lambert cast the stones a disparaging look.

“No. Its. It’s about finding the perfect clam breaking stone. Not. Not that I have any real idea what that would look like.”

His teeth were starting to chatter. Probably not a good idea to stay in this form much longer.

“You’re just trying to find the perfect stone?”

“More or less.” He agreed with her.

“Why?”

He shrugged. “Felt,” Feels. He internally corrected. “Important.”

She frowned before digging through the pile herself. Selecting one.

“Here!” She dropped it in his hand. “The perfect stone!”

He looked at it. The small oblong shape of it. The mottle in its color. The way it fit in his hand.

“You’re right. It’s perfect.”

He paced the length of Geralt’s room. Flipping the stone in his hand. Waiting.

He didn’t know why he was waiting. He’d taken Ciri to bed. Left the witchers to their family time. Because he was tired after nearly freezing on the trip back from the lake.

Yennefer had agreed to come. She’d be here soon.

The thought didn’t fill him with dread.

He paced the length of the room. Flipping the stone in his hand. Waiting.

He really wasn’t quite sure what he was doing. What he planned on accomplishing. What instinct he was feeding.

He went over to the mirror. Pulled off the cap.

It was filling out quicker than he’d expected. It still wasn’t good. But the sheered sections seemed to have grown quicker while Ciri’s magic had warmed his chest.

His ears were cold though so he put it back on. Adjusted it until it looked perfect.

And then after too long had to give up and settle for nice.

He paced the length of their room. Flipping the stone in his hand. Waiting.

The fire was lit. The bed was made. He straightened the pillows anyway. Then he felt very silly because he’d never much cared for made beds. Preferred them ruffled and nested and smelling like them.

Which this bed did. Unlike all the beds at the inns. This one was theirs. Smelled like theirs. When he was in a form that could actually distinguish such things anyway.

The perfect stone. He didn’t know why that was so important. Why he’d scoured the lake looking for one. Why even hours later that instinct still rooted itself so firmly in his mind.

Yennefer was coming. He really didn’t think it would be a problem.

But his mate had loved her once. Or. Or something. She’d been something to him once.

Which was fine. She’d been something to him too. He didn’t know what she was now.

She probably didn’t either.

He looked at the perfectly made bed and hated it. Jumped on it. Shoving pillows and blankets and furs every which way.

“Jaskier?” He shoved the blankets around. It wasn’t right. Something about it wasn’t right. “Jaskier.”

He looked up to Geralt’s face. Grabbed his hand and pulled him into the bed.

That was better.

He rearranged the bed.

“One of my instincts is going haywire and I don’t know why. Just. Indulged me?”

Geralt took a pillow and laid down on his side. Watching him. “Lambert said you pulled up half the lake today.”

“It felt important.” He readjusted one of the blankets. Fixing a wrinkle he didn’t like.

“Is this an otter thing?”

“I don’t know!” He threw up his hands. “I’m not an otter and I’m not a dragon and I’m not a wolf and I’m not human and I don’t know how to be any of them!” He yanked on the awful cap with both hands. Stone still pressed into his palm.

“A Jaskier thing then.” He didn’t turn around to look at him. Still kneeling in the bed. “What’s upsetting you?”

He looked at the bed. Felt the stone in his palm. “This beds just ours right?” He let go of the cap. Rolling the stone in his fingers. “Even when Yennefer arrives?” The words started and they didn’t stop. “Because you agreed to be mates and I know you didn’t really know what you were agreeing to just like how you didn’t know what you agreed to when you bonded with me and I’d really like to know before Yennefer arrives if I’m going to need a different room because I can’t. Griffins mate for life and I can’t. I can’t-“

Geralt pulled him down into his arms. “This bed is just ours. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“I’m nervous about Yennefer too.”

“You should be.”

“Hm.”

He turned the stone in his hands. Turned over in the bed so he was facing Geralt.

“Got you something.” Geralt hm’d his interest. “The perfect stone.” He said opening his palm for Geralt’s inspection.

“The perfect clam cracking stone?”

“I don’t actually know what that would look like. I’m not a very good otter.”

“It’s very nice Jaskier.”

“I found a bunch of stones and then Ciri picked this one out. So it’s perfect.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Do you want it?”

His face twitched. “It’s your stone.”

He looked at it. His gut was twisting anxiously for some reason. “Do you want it?”

“Jaskier what are you really asking?” Geralt was studying him. He wasn’t sure either. “Is. Is this how otters propose?”

“I don’t know. I’m not really an otter.” He looked at it. Turned it in his hand. “If it was would you take it?”

Geralt took his hand and guided it, guided the stone to his lips. “Yes. I would.”

“Oh.” He watched Geralt press his lips to the stone. His breath warm on his hand. “Do I need to ask Vesemir before?”

“Why would you need to ask Vesemir?” His face curling in amusement.

“For his permission to marry you? And I suppose I’d need to ask Ciri too. It’s only fair.”

Geralt leaned forward and kissed his brow. “You can ask them in the morning. Why don’t you ask me now?”

He bit his lip. “Well maybe you need to ask. I’m the viscount. Maybe I need to be properly courted.”

“You’re a viscount?”

“Well I was. At one point.”

“Do I need to court you?”

“I suppose that depends.”

“On what?”

“Your answer.”

Geralt smiled. “Maybe you should ask the question.”

“Geralt?”

“Hm?”

“Will you marry me?”

He took the stone between his fingers. “Gladly.”

#shapeshifter au #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #shapeshifter!Jaskier #and with that our story concludes #hope no one minds me throwing in some Aiden &Lambert #One day i'll write a fic for them. One day i will #I hope you had fun #love yall #writing

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regrettablewritings · 4 years

Note

If it’s okay. Can I please request some LOVE headcanons with Jaskier, if it hasn’t already been requested?

Dang . . . We almost got an entire set here with Jaskier 👀

Who said “I love you” first?: You know it was Jaskier. Not only because you’d spent the entire time leading up to that point desperately trying to stifle your newly-found affections, but also because everybody knows that the loudest mouth on the continent has to have the first word. However, given that it’s Jaskier, you don’t buy it at first. For one, the man throws the word “love” around as, well, a bard throws around cheesy prose. Who’s to say that his dramatic gesture of spreading his arms wide and crying out gloriously, “Dear (Y/N)! I have determined that you! Are! The! One!!” wasn’t just another show for him? For another, as much as a part of you wanted to believe otherwise, a much larger part just couldn’t believe the possibility that someone like Jaskier could like someone like you romantically -- in whatever way “someone like Jaskier” could be taken. You initial reluctance to accept the bard’s confession left him a husk of a man, pouting and frustrated as he ranted to Geralt in the secrecy of a rented room at a tavern. All the while, the latter could only bluntly state that it’s Jaskier’s fault for having taken everything without much seriousness to it. His actions got him into this mess, he surely couldn’t expect for them to get him out of it. So he had to go the other way about it. You were very concerned when Jaskier got quiet. He’d already been acting strange for the last while or so, fumbling over his words and even struggling to babble on whimsically to jostle up songs. You had half a mind to assume that the poor fool might’ve been falling sick! But when he insisted he wasn’t, and that you still accompany him to the small plot of gardening land beside the tavern, your curiosity led you to oblige. You simply had to see where this was going. Hopefully to an explanation as to why he’d been acting so funny lately. In hindsight, the silly boy had probably scoped the area to find the most romantic spot. Admittedly, there’s not so many romantic associations one might have with raspberries, but there was a rock large enough to sit upon nearby where they were growing, which Jaskier apparently decided would have to do. It wasn’t a bench or a charmingly rustic fountain, but he still took it upon himself to treat it as though it were just as special. You wordlessly (if confusedly) followed suit, perching yourself on it per his request. Though, the temptation to leap right off of it struck the moment he took your hand into his own and locked eyes with you. You’d never heard Jaskier speak so calmly, so seriously, yet without a hint of graveness in it. You waited for him to reveal that it had been a joke, that he was using the moment to harvest some sort of song fodder from your response. But it never came. He just kept kneeling before you, awaiting your response, the hope in his eyes dwindling bit by bit in the moonlight the longer you went without saying anything. “Oh,” he finally spoke. Your heart could’ve shattered with the hint of trembling in that single syllable. “I, um . . . I suppose it is a bit -- it was a poor choice to -- I shouldn’t have -- ” No sentence sounded right to him in his moment of embarrassment. He tried getting back up, unlocking your hand from his, but your reinforced grip gave him pause. You shook your head, your heart beating so hard and fast that it hurt. And yet, the pain of it dulled when in comparison to the relief and bliss you felt.

What are their primary love languages?: Being the attention whore that he is, it would only be suitable that Jaskier reaps love and affection through words of affirmation and quality time. Yeah, he’s also a very sexual being, but he’s an entertainer down to the bone: It’s simply in his nature to desire your attention. When you spent quality time with him and give him praises meant only for him, you simply must be paying attention to him! And even beyond that, it provides the both of you means to communicate and get to know one another. (Well, more than you would already have to, given that you’re on the road all the time.) But for as arrogant as Jaskier is, that bardic nature goes both ways: It’s also in his nature to appraise everything to the highest and most flowery degree, as well as to throw that attentiveness to physical appeal right back at you. He loves being able to be physically close to you in any way that he can, especially sexually. And if he can make sweet and attentive love to you while also (literally) singing your praises? Worshiping your looks and your responses to his ministrations? It’s like he’s died and gone to heaven, a la le petit mort!

How often do they cuddle/engage in PDA?: Frequently, when the opportunity provides it. Of course, cuddling is difficult to do when one is on the road. And even though the ground isn’t necessarily the most ideal bed for it, being spooned can certainly help alleviate the dread of having to sleep on a floor that could become muddy soon enough. But that doesn’t stop the two of you from engaging in physical forms of affection whenever you can. You’ve never really been one especially for public displays of affection, but something about holding Jaskier’s hand as the two of you trail behind Geralt and Ciri just feels right. His hold is soft and warm, with only trace amounts of callousness due to his constant strumming on the lute. And when the group takes a break, you could think of nothing more refreshing than being able to sit at the base of a large tree and tuck yourself into the crook of your significant other’s arm as the both of you rest in silence, just enjoying the ambience. Sometimes, if you’re in an especially bubbly or affectionate mood, kisses wind up exchanged with no care on if Geralt or the child see you. There’s nothing shameless about giving your beloved a kiss on the cheek or even a quick peck on the lips, is there? Besides, the real shame should fall on Jaskier for always taking it too far by trying to kiss a line up your neck. It just gets taken up to an 11 when you actually have a proper bed to sleep on: The spooning increases, the not so sneaky caresses along the sides make an appearance, and the not-even-trying-to-hide-it attempts at lovingly groping your lovely bits are made because at least now there’s some privacy. And if you’re in the right mood and not too tired from your travels, you don’t mind indulging.

What are their favorite things to do together?: It depends on where the two of you are, but the one consistency is chatting and flinging jokes at one another. Jaskier fancies himself a man of wit so when you prove not to be afraid of playing along or hucking jokes right back at him, he takes it as a game. One of the competing sort. No matter how you may try, that game is going to turn into the two of you trying to make the other laugh or blush with some crude or colorful remarks. (And you can pretend you’re above it all you want, you’re clearly enjoying it.) He also likes how much inspiration your talks can give him, from you recounting the places you’ve seen to the people you’ve encountered (though you insist it’s nowhere near as impressive as he tries to make them sound in song form).

Who’s better at comforting the other?: As observant and intuitive as Jaskier can surprisingly be, this doesn’t always mean that he’s the best at using what he’s learned to calm the situation. If anything, his skittish and overly talkative nature can only drive you further into frustration if he’s not too careful. You know he means well, but Jackie can still be a bit overwhelming if one is already not in the best mood. But when it comes to calming him, you’re one of the best there is. At the very least, you’re able to distract him enough or praise him enough to where he’ll become a little less catty. He may be pouting as he rests his head against your breast, but he’s (not so) secretly eating up the proximity, how your fingers gently card through his hair, how warm your chest feels as it vibrates with your words . . . Words that are, of course, telling him what a talented minstrel he really is, especially compared to that hack of a troubadour, Valdo Marx. The moment you feel him smirking is the moment you know he’s let go of all pretenses of being upset — he’d felt good as new long ago. Still, you let him stay there.

Who’s more protective?: I suppose Jaskier, though the more fitting term would be “possessive.” Jaskier isn’t a very competent fighter (read: He cannot fight at all) so when it comes to physical well-being, he isn’t much good for keeping you any more guarded than however fast you both can run away from the problem. He’s more of a guardian when it comes to the heart or a person’s mental well-being. As embarrassingly idiotic as he can sometimes be, he isn’t so completely unaware as to not notice toxicity in other people. Unfortunately, he’s ironically not very good at vocally communicating this. As a result, he can come across as clingy or annoying. Which he is. But also, he doesn’t want you hurt and has your best interests in mind. Meanwhile, you care plenty for his physical well-being but also know you’re not much of a fighter, either. Besides, Jaskier’s gotten by on the road by himself far longer than you’ve known him -- apparently, he knows how to at least keep his head still attached to his body.

Do they prefer verbal or physical affection?: Both. As a stereotypical bawdy bard, he loves giving it, and as a humanoid peacock of a man, he loves receiving it. Let him lay his head in your lap while you stroke his hair and tell him what a wonderful performer he is, and how his voice makes you weak and yet empowered with desire --

What are some songs that apply to their relationship, in-universe or otherwise?: It may seem a bit rough to apply a song to such a musical man, but quite a few do come to mind: “Sweet Talk” by Saint Motel, “Put Your Money on Me” by The Struts, “Fall in Love” by Bad Rabbits, “Hands” by Barns Courtney . . . Now, if you take the time to listen to these or even look up some of the lyrics, you’ll notice a trend: A man pining for a woman who’s always just ever so slightly out of his reach. Or a man singing his delight for a woman who seems altogether unimpressed or at least hesitant to take a chance on him. Or the girl is just elusive. Which makes perfect sense, given that you’re one to guard her heart when in the face of the minstrel while Jaskier is the one putting his own entirely out there for you. But don’t be dismayed: Jaskier loves a good chase. His type is best defined as “someone he shouldn’t have or must at least bust his ass to acquire”, as one can assume from his interactions with concubines, higher-standing nobility, mothers, warriors, Geralt . . . But if you have a taste for something more optimistic or lighthearted, fear not: There’s always “Easy Way” by For the Foxes or “Undone” by The Bird and the Bee. What makes a song like “Undone” unique, however, is that it’s more for your point-of-view. Your feelings for Jaskier are complex yet so simple. He knows you’re not exactly the best at emoting, much less when it comes to your affections. But sometimes, you think that’s a good thing: If you were even half so brave or careless, the poor man might’ve died from your more frequent desire to kiss him to death (not that he would mind dying in such a pretty way). You can put on a calm expression all you want: Inside, you’re a storm of thoughts. You want to impress him, you want him to think you’re witty and bewitching, you want to be his yet one definite thing, you want to be the one who, well, can make him come undone with just a kiss. And it just takes you aback sometimes to realize that the very man, known for his philandering, already sees no wrong in you, and that he wants nothing more than the very same. With you and only you.

What kind of nicknames do they call each other?: It startled you to learn one day that you’d been calling him a nickname the entire time. In hindsight, yeah, it made sense: “Jaskier” was unusual as a given name. But you had grown so used to it and how it fit him like it was bespoke, that learning his real name was Julian just . . . It felt weird. Still, that didn’t erase the fact that, yes, Jaskier was technically still a nickname for him that you’d been using, knowingly or not. Though, every once in a while you would make an attempt to refer to him as something else: “Baby Eyes”, you realized, had some unusual sticking power to it.It’s normally used in an almost pouty tone, usually to accompany the pouting Jaskier’s already doing when you say it. Not in a taunting manner, but as if to extend sympathy. You hadn’t even meant for the name to keep reappearing but it just rolls off the tongue, especially whenever Jaskier looks at you with those blue eyes, fixed in a puppyish pout. He also seems to respond well to names that suggest his talent or genius, but we would be here all night running through the specifics due to how ridiculously and pointlessly long they are. The length of Jaskier’s names had actually become a bit of a problem even when in reference to you: It’s not really a nickname when your lover wants to refer to you as “Stunning Little Starling of the Northern Sky” or “Darling Daffodil of the Valley” and so on. He’s had to shorten quite a few down to “Starling” or “Darling” or “Daffodil” or “My Muse” or “Exquisite One, Conqueror of My Heart, Goddess of My Sleeping Hours, Patron Saint to My Loins --”.

Thank you for your patience!

#jaskier x reader #jaskier imagines #jaskier imagine #the witcher imagine #the witcher imagines #regrettablewritings #character ship meme #character ship headcanons

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imnotwolverine · 4 years

Text

The Last Wish

Geralt of Rivia drabble

Listen to: Vaughan Williams - The Lark Ascending

Author’s note: I finished the Witcher 3 and now I feel both happy..and sad. So have some sad fluff on this dreary Sunday ❤️*dreams of living in a vineyard with Geralt*

Word count: 1.650

‘So what do you want?’

He shrugged at the sorceress, golden eyes slowly fluttering shut. ‘It doesn’t matter what I want, Yen.’

‘Oh come on.’ Her elegant finger poked into his side before she flopped onto his chest, that same finger now tracing over his stubble.

Grinning, a low purr escaped his lips. But he didn’t answer. ‘And you?’

‘Hmm.’ She lowered her head to listen to his slow and steady heartbeat. ‘I want everything.’

—

A bird watched the Witcher as he heard the slow rumble of hooves in the distance, their eyes meeting in shared curiosity. The bird being curious for this strange white haired man that had taken residence just weeks earlier. And the Witcher for the clatter of hooves.

Her tiny head tilted sideways as she studied him better. A sweaty brow, disheveled hair, marred and scarred skin that belied his long and lonely life before he settled down here. Her master now.

‘You gonna help me?’ His low voice asked kindly - for such a large man he seemed gentle enough.

The bird remained a moment longer as her head now tilted the other way.

‘Hmm.’ His lips curled in a careful smile. Perhaps he had just made a friend.

‘Milord!’

Nope. There she went, off again, like they always do. The voice calling for him circled in the hot wind as he raised to his feet, finding that it was one of his staff members; the skinny man who had kept up this estate before he had arrived. A good man. But he was obviously not used to a lord like Geralt, his nervous eyes flying over Geralt’s soiled clothing and sweaty brow.

‘Eh..there’s a..visitor, my lord.’

‘A visitor?’ The Witcher wiped his brow as he walked back out of the long green rows, shovel in hand.

‘Aherm..Yes.’ The man eyed his lord’s clothing again. ‘..a lady..’

—

I want everything.

—

A lady. Ciri? Triss? Yen? ..Yen…

His calm Witcher-heart jumped with a dizzying mix of hurt and hope. Could it be? Could it be?! Hastily he peeled off his shirt, throwing it in the general direction of the laundry room before he skid up the steps to his rooms.

‘I’ll be a minute.’ He called over his shoulder, the stairs creaking beneath his heavy footfall.

The stately house was still in dire need of repair, walls brittle and cracks everywhere. But; it was a home. And after long, long years of living in the bitter and gritty conditions of the outdoors, every crumbling wall was more of an opportunity than a problem.

Quickly, the Witcher retrieved some fresh clothing, his rough hands pushing back the loosened strands of hair in his face. Could it be her?

—

‘You are my everything, Yen.’ He whispered, sleep carrying him off after months of insomnia.

—

It had been months, nearly a year, since he had last seen any of them. So, when the hooded figure stepped away from her regal looking horse, Geralt knew none the better who stood here before him.

Could it be her?

‘I like what you’ve done with the place.’ Her sarcastic tongue cut through the silence and thrilled his heart, two violet eyes finding his from behind her richly decorated hood, lips curling into a mischievous smile.

‘Yen.’ He breathed, catching her frame in a perhaps too enthusiastic hug, her mouth letting out a shrill squeak.

For a long moment he just focused on the soft hum of her heart and the scent of lilac and gooseberries. For a moment he had everything, all his wishes fulfilled.

‘Is it okay if I..Geralt! Stop that. If I stay for the night?’ She swatted his arm as a toothy grin stretched on his face.

‘You know you don’t have to ask.’

‘I’m asking you anyways.’ She shrugged, stepping out of the stables and into the sun, her dark tresses dancing in the soft wind, carrying with it that scent.

—

Everything.

—

Darkness caressed them, but he couldn’t sleep. His honeyed eyes watched, lingered, burned. Hoped that if he didn’t blink, she wouldn’t leave. But much too soon birds started to twitter and life as usual returned. Without her, probably. They always leave.

‘Morning.’ A dreamy finger caressed his chest before her eyes cracked open. Enchantingly purple in the low light. ‘You look terrible.’

Ever truthful, this sorceress.

Humming, Geralt shifted somewhat, relieving the ache in his sleeping limbs.

‘You didn’t sleep, hmm?’

He shook his head, refusing to address reality just a moment longer, his eyes just watching her.

The sorceress propped herself up and let that same finger now travel underneath the sheets, following the trail of hair that covered his pale chest. ‘I dreamt of us.’ Her voice was still low and husky.

‘Mmm.’ The Witcher’s tired eyes near skittishly found her gaze, her brows furrowing with a teasing pout.

‘Do you really hate being a lord so much that all you can do is scowl?’ She playfully tilted her head. Like that bird, eyes studying him, while all he did was listen, his ears pricking at the expected sound of horse hooves in the distance. This time not coming, but going, taking with them her. Yen.

But no, she was still here, beneath his fingertips. Just don’t blink, Geralt, don’t blink.

‘I don’t.’ He finally sighed, wrapping her in his arms once more, detesting the thought of her leaving.

Without protest her soft form snuggled back into his embrace, her black curls being twirled between his fingers. Her scent enchanted him and her lips peppered a few airy kisses onto his chest. Like she always did. But it wasn’t enough. Never enough. She’d always leave.

‘You know, I like it here.’ She decided in between soft kisses, her legs now moving to straddle his hip, the sheets sliding down to reveal more olive skin. He burned the beautiful image into his eyes, keeping it locked in his heart, for safe-keeping.

‘You do?’ Geralt muttered, her lips now travelling up, offering him a soft and gentle kiss. So much unlike her spunky character.

‘Perhaps I could stay a while longer..’ Her voice drifted off as she looked into his eyes, those long fingers of her now brushing aside his hair - even though it wasn’t really in the way.

‘I’d like that.’ The Witcher admitted, a hand catching hers so he could kiss her palm.

‘Hmm.’ It was her moment to turn quiet for a moment, both their eyes just gazing, relearning the shapes and lines of each others’ faces. ‘You know what I dreamt about?’

He shook his head, a slow smile finally crawling back up his lips. She was staying a little while longer.

‘I was a bird, drifting in the winds. Until finally I found a vineyard. A little haunted, but it was nothing a Witcher couldn’t fix.’ Her lips also curled into a smile mimicking his. ‘And then I decided it’d make for a nice place to nest.. Even birds need a home you see.’ They both chuckled.

‘A nest? With all your clothes? Must’a been a big one.’ The Witcher teased, earning himself a poke to the chest before the sorceress melted back into his chest, his arms wrapping safely around her, keeping her close. ‘And then what happened?’

‘Then I woke up in a vineyard, with a Witcher in my arms.’

‘Lucky man.’

‘Indeed. And I’m a very lucky woman.’ Her long fingers raked a ticklish path up his ribs, making him sniffle. The quiet morning breezed in through the window, the soft twitter of birds reaching their ears.

A new day was here. And at least for today she’d stay.

Listening to the Witcher’s heartbeat, the sorceress hesitated. ��I’ve been thinking. Since the djinn was chased off and all...’ The Witcher didn’t respond, though his heart seemed to jump in his chest.

She continued: ‘I still feel it you know.’

‘The djinn?’

‘Ugh. No you silly!’ She settled back up, ‘Us.’

—

‘Do you still feel it?’ The Witcher eyed the sorceress, her eyes gazing out over the snow-covered valley, the icy winds spewing around them.

‘Maybe we should..’ She shrugged and eyed him for a moment. ‘..kiss? To see if it’s..different?’

‘We could do that.’ He already settled closer before the words left his mouth.

The abandoned boat atop these mountains made for an unlikely place of romance and first kisses. But the two lovers didn’t care much. With the winds howling and magic crackling, two hesitant pairs of lips tasted change. It was both different, but also the same, their destinies no longer entwined by the force of Djinns. Just simple, unbridled love.

..Right?

—

‘You mean that?’ His brows furrowed.

‘I do, Geralt. And I’m sorry for leaving you after...’ Her voice trailed off for a moment. ‘I would have given you my last wish too you see....Had I owned one.’ She shrugged lightly. Geralt smiled. Oh, she sure had WANTED to have that last wish. It had been a long obsession to get a child of her own someday. The more silly it was that it was the Witcher who had not only taken the Last Wish, but also got to take care of one white haired princess; Ciri. A surprise, indeed.

Now, with Ciri grown, the Djinn gone and the of them both looking back at well lived lives, one question remained.

‘So what do you want?’ Her question was the same, but his answer different. The sorceresses hands entangled with his as she smiled down at him and the Witcher smiled back. He had thought of her question often, but life didn’t seemed to offer many re-do’s. Especially in love. The more happy he was that she was here and there was no Djinn to mess with them. Him and Yen. The Witcher and the sorceress. His smile grew.

‘You.’

#henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #drabble #the witcher #blood and wine #geralt of rivia #yen #yennefer of vengerberg #geralt x yen #the last wish #vineyard #and now what am i supposed to do with my life #ugly cries #soft!geralt

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thefatedthoughtofyou · 4 years

Note

Saw your post asking for cute/silly prompts so I’m here to deliver! How about Geralt, Jaskier & Ciri are all on the road & set up camp for the night. Jaskier & Ciri are restless & bored so they start trying to see who can mess with Geralt the most. Things escalate when Jaskier grabs a handful of mud & slings it at his face, causing a mud fight to break out! Hope this works, love your stuff!

(hi soooo....i strayed a little off the prompt... and i know it was supposed to be silly,i know i asked for that AND IT IS!!! there just... some angst snuck in there without my permission but i bounced it back at the end with some sweetness! i hope you like it!!! thank you so much for sending in it!!!!

Ao3

Rainstorms and Overthinking

“It’s been raining for 3 hours is he ever going to stop?”Ciri whispered, her breath tickling Jaskier’s neck. He’d let her climb onto hisback about an hour after the rain started, the mud from the down poor had nearlybeen swallowing her feet. He gave her legs a gentle squeeze as he squintedthrough the rain at Geralt’s back.

“ Oh I doubtit. Why should he stop? The muds not bothering him, he’s on a horse!”Jaskier yelled through the deluge, flinching when a drop of rain hit him directlyin the eye. Ciri moved one of her hands from his shoulder, she wiped at thewater above his eyes and then let her hand settle there, shielding his eyesfrom the rain.

Geralt said nothing, just kept on,Roach walking along the road with ease. Jaskier huffed, and smiled when he feltCiri do the same, in synch with him.

“Maybe if we annoy him enough, he’llstop.” She sighed. Jaskier could feel her pulling at the hood of her cloak, nodoubt trying to shield her own eyes from the rain as well.

“I’m soaking wet Jaskier. My cloak alonehas to weight a million pounds. You can put me down, I’ll be okay.” She pattedhis shoulder for him to stop and let her down. He had no intention of doing anysuch thing.

“Nonsense. Look at this mud. It’snearly up to my knee. If I put you down now, I’ll never see you again. You’llbe swallowed whole and I’d never hear the end of it!” He hiked her up a littleon his back, the rain indeed weighing her down, and smiled when he felt hernuzzle closer.

“Thank you.” She said, always sokind and mannered. That had taken some getting used to.

“Let’s just yell at him until hestops.” She said, her hand wiping water out of his eyes again.

“We can try. But I assure you, inthe past, no amount of yelling or complain on my part has ever stoppedthat man from doing anything.” Jaskier sighed, Ciri laughed into his shoulder.

“Geralt!” Jaskier yelled.

No reply.

“Geralt don’t be rude he’s talkingto you!” Ciri yelled, not as loud as she could, mindful of how close she was toJaskier’s ear. Jaskier watched Geralt’s head turn minutely to the side, butstill he said nothing, and he did not stop. Jaskier patter Ciri’s leg again andtook a deep breath.

“Geralt. Geralt. Geralt. Geralt.Geralt! Geralt! Geralt! Geralt! Geralt! Geraaaaaaaallllttttt!” Jaskier yelledand yelled until his lungs where empty, Ciri snorted into his shoulder. He tookanother deep breath, fully intending to keep shouting up at the man through therain when Geralt finally responded.

“There’s a place up ahead. Juststop doing that.” His voice was gruff, and annoyed. Jaskier turned to look atCiri, her eyes shining in the rain, giving her a triumphant smile.

“Well done.” She said, laughingwith him as they followed Geralt and Roach off the path and into the trees.

They walked for maybe ten moreminutes, finally coming to a stop near a small indent in the rocks lining theedge of the forest. Jaskier ran to the rocks, sighing happily at the cover andlet Ciri slide off his back to her feet. She immediately threw her cloak off, layingit out on the smooth ground to dry, as much as it could. She smiled up at Jaskieras he began pulling his doublet off to do the same. He struggled for a moment,the fabric stuck fast to his skin, Ciri grabbed the end of his sleeve, helpinghim yank it free, her bubbly laughter filling the air again, echoing off thestone walls behind them.

Geralt slid off Roach and stompedover to them, splashing mud onto Jaskier’s already soaked pants. Jaskier gaspedand glared at him.

“Ya know just cuz they’re alreadydrenched in mud doesn’t mean they need you adding more you oaf.” Jaskier grumbled,more to himself than to Geralt. Geralt turned to look at him, moving his headslowly.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” Jaskier hissed, wringingout his doublet and dropping it to the ground next to Ciri’s cloak, the fabricmaking a sad flopping sound as it hit the ground, clearly still sopping wet.Jaskier sighed and stretched his back.

“Thanks for stopping Geralt. Evenif it took you three hours.” Ciri said, Jaskier smiled at her cheerful sarcasm.He watched as she paced the edge of the small cave, not really a cave at all,more of an alcove.

“Hmm.” Was all she got in response.

“Such a way with words.” Jaskiermuttered, avoiding Geralt’s eyes but feeling the glare like a dagger in hisneck. Then, Jaskier watched, as if the world was moving in slow motion, as Ciribent down and filled her hand with mud. He pulled his hands to his chest, reflexively,as she turned and threw the mud right at Geralt’s back. He’d been rummaging inhis pack, looking for god knows what. The mud hit him between the shoulderblades, Jaskier moving his hand to his mouth, not able to stop the high-pitchedsound that had slipped from him.

Geralt rounded on him quickly. Jaskier’seyes widened in panic as he moved his hand to point at Ciri, ratting her outwith absolutely no coercion at all. Geralt looked at her slowly. She smiled,the innocence on her face not quite reaching her eyes, and wiggled her muddyfingers at Geralt. He growled, low in his throat, and Jaskier didn’t even wantto think about the reaction his body had to that sound, andstalked towards her slowly.

“Geralt. She’s a child, andprincess, please don’t murder her. I don’t want to be implicated and lose myhead along side you!” Jaskier called, taking a few hesitant steps forward andthen stopping when Geralt turned his glare on him.

“Sorry my dear I can’t help you.You’re on your own.” He held his hands out in front him. Ciri laughed and threwanother handful of mud, this one, Geralt could have dodged easily, he was readythis time, but he let it hit him in the leg. Ciri laughed again, backing up,back out into the rain, grabbing more mud. Her laugh getting more frantic as Geraltbent down to grab a handful of his own. He threw it and hit her square in thechest. Her laughter faltered for only a moment, her eyes falling to her ruineddress, Geralt cocked an eyebrow at her, daring her to keep going. She took thedare in stride and tossed mud right at his face.

Jaskier laughed, the sound forcingits way out of his throat at the look on Geralt’s mud covered face. And he knewinstantly it was a mistake. They both turned to look at him, hands full of mud,eyes full of mischief.

“No no no no no no!” he tried to backaway, his feet slipping on the damp stone beneath him as they both raised theirhands. He ran out into the rain, desperate not to be cornered, his feet sinkingdeep into the ground as he tried to get away from them.

“No no no! Not in the-“ the mudslammed into him.

“Face.” He sighed, bringing hishands up and wiping the mud from his eyes. He shook both hands out, looking upat them both. And his heart melted at what he saw, Ciri was doubled overlaughing, so hard there was no longer sound coming from her, her face wasbright red. And Geralt. Geralt was standing there, covered in mud, smiling.Smiling at Ciri. And then, after a few moments, smiling at Jaskier. Jaskier smiledback at him. And then he bent down, grabbed a handful of mud himself, and launchedit at Geralt’s head.

All hell broke loose after that.Mud flying through the air, slamming into them all, Roach walked further away, hidingbehind a tree and shaking her head at their shenanigans. The air filled with laughter.Jaskier would swear he even heard Geralt laugh once and was determined to hearit again. He was chasing Ciri through the deep puddle of mud between them whenhe felt it. Something moving beneath his shirt.

He stopped. Frozen in the rain.Geralt and Ciri both stopped, in synch, and looked at him. He let the mud fallfrom his hands and moved them to his chest. He looked up at Geralt.

“Something… is moving.” His handhovered near his shirt, not touching it. He couldn’t look down, he refused too.He stared at Geralt, his eyes wide and pleading. The Witcher moved to him quickly,his fingers wrapping gently around Jaskier’s wrists and pushing his hands outof the way. He curled a finger into the front of Jaskier’s shirt, pulling thesoaked fabric away from his skin. Jaskier kept his eyes glued to Geralt’s faceand gulped when he saw the man grimace. Geralt moved his eyes from Jaskier’schest to his face.

“What is it?” Jaskier whispered, vaguelyaware of Ciri coming closer, peering around Geralt cautiously.

“Do you… have strong feelings aboutleeches?” Geralt asked, his voice forcibly even. Jaskier felt his stomach drop,he fought the urge to gag.

“Get it off. Get it off get it off!”his voice was strained, the urge to scream and run lodged right in throat.Geralt did as he was told, he reached into Jaskier’s shirt quickly. Jaskier feltthe pull on his skin and fought the urge to faint. He squeezed his eyes shuttight.

“It’s gone.” Geralt said, quietly,Jaskier opened his eyes to see Geralt toss the…thing, aside. His skin prickledand he let out a low moan, he tore his shirt off over his head, running back intothe stone alcove, he threw his shirt out into the mud and fell over with a squawkas he frantically pulled his boots off, tossing them to the side. He shoved hispants down and kicked his legs to free himself. He scrambled to his feet again,turning in circles, holding his arms out.

“Do you see anymore?” He was shaking,his voice trembling.

“There’s no more Jaskier.” Ciri’s smallvoice said. Jaskier inhaled sharply when her cold hand touched his arm. Helooked down at her.

“Are you alright?” She asked,smiling shyly up at him. He tried to smile down at her and then realized he wasstanding in only his undergarments in front of her and took a few steps back, trying his best tocover himself, his hand splayed out on his chest like some fair maiden who hadjust been caught in a compromising position.

“I’m fine. Completely fine I’m… naked,essentially, in front a twelve-year-old princess but ya know, other than that, I’mgreat. Splendid! How are you?” his words falling out his mouth in a rush,making her smile.

“Well, I know the circumstances hadto have been different, but lets not pretend you’ve never been naked in front ofa princess before.” She looked at him, leveling him with a smirk. The laughthat burst out of him was awkward, but it lessened the tension. Geralt walkedback over from Roach and pressed into Jaskier’s personal space. The rain hadstopped now, the few remaining sounds of falling water coming from the drippingtrees a few feet away. Geralt’s brow was furrowed as he wrapped a very dry,very warm, blanket around Jaskier’s shoulders. Jaskier shivered and snuggledinto the warmth immediately. Geralt sat him on the ground against the back ofthe alcove, looking at him for a moment, nodding to himself, seemingly satisfied,and then walked away again.

Jaskier watched him disappear intothe trees, pulling his knees up to his chest, and smiled when Ciri sat downnext to him, her head falling onto his shoulder. She got up after a few moments,ran out to Roach, patter her head for a moment, then dug around for a blanketof her own. She smiled to herself when she found what she was looking for andran back to settle in next to him. Geralt came back awhile later, having foundenough dry wood for a small fire.

Ciri ate the bread Geralt handedher and then dozed off quickly, tucked inside her blanket, curled up like a cat.Jaskier had stayed pressed against the back wall, not talking, eating in silenceand avoiding the concerned glances from Geralt. He also had a sneaking suspicionthat Ciri was pretending to sleep to give them space. She was a smart girl, she’dno doubt been feeling the tension between them. Jaskier knew he’d been feelingit, though he’d been trying to push it down as far as possible in the hopes itwould maybe just… go away.

Geralt tossed the last end of his stalebread into the small fire and got up from where he’d been sitting. He nudgedJaskier’s leg with his toe, Jaskier looked up at him, confused, to say theleast. Geralt reached down, pulled one side of the blanket open and pressedhimself into Jaskier’s side, pulling the blanket around them both. He sits. Silently.Pressed side to side with Jaskier. Try as he might, Jaskier can’t stand thesilence.

“I’m sorry.” He says, worrying theblanket between his fingers nervously.

“Sorry for what?” Geralt asks, andhe has the decency to sound genuinely confused.

“We were having a good time. For once.And I ruined it.” He sighs, dropping his head back against the chilly stonebehind him. Geralt shifts next to him, pressing closer, Jaskier holds in theshiver that threatens to run through him at the closeness.

“You didn’t ruin anything.” He says,serious as always.

“I did though. You were laughing. Idon’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh, and that’s a travesty by the way becausethe laugh I heard today… it was nice. You should definitely bless the worldwith that laugh more often. But that’s not the point. The point… the point was…what was the point? Oh! The point was you laughed, and would have probably laughedagain and I ruined it. You both got all worried. Because of me.” He bit his lipand looked into his lap. He felt so stupid, it wasn’t a big deal. Shouldn’t havebeen anyway.

“Do you want to talk about it?”Geralt pressed his elbow softly into his ribs.

“Talk about what?” Jaskier wasplaying dumb, he knew it, but it was all he had right now.

“Whatever it is that made you reactthat way. Must have been something bad if it has you sulking this much.” Jaskierlooks at him then, and he’s… he’s smiling. Geralt of Rivia, is smiling at him,pressed close to him under a blanket. Jaskier swallows, fights all of his, admittedlyterrible, instincts that are telling him to lean over and kiss him, and looksback to his lap, pressing the hem of the blanket between his fingers.

“It’s nothing. Just a bad experiencewhen I was kid. There was a pond. It was full of leeches. I fell in, freakedout, ran home. Unfortunately, the manor was full of guests for some kind ofparty my parents were throwing. I ran in crying, covered in leeches. Everyonelaughed. I was traumatized. It was all very character building I suppose.” He looksback at Geralt, a pained smile on his face.

“Didn’t feel very character buildingat the time though.” He was almost whispering now, he felt Geralt press evercloser.

“I’m sorry that happened.” Thetender sincerity in his voice made Jaskier’s chest ache.

“I’ve never been fond of leecheseither. I know logically they can be helpful, but I’d rather not come acrossthem if I can help it.” He smiled at Jaskier, again, and Jaskier could hear hisheart pounding in his ears.

“So nervous.” Geralt is whisperingnow, his voice teasing, Jaskier shivers when his breath ghosts over his skin.

“I- I’m not nervous. Who’s nervous?”Jaskier stammered, swallowing hard, and then Geralt’s fingers are touching hisarm. Jaskier feels himself flush, fire burning his skin where Geralt’s fingersrest, crawling across his body as Geralt moves his hand up Jaskier’s arm.

“Your heart is beating awfully fastfor someone who isn’t nervous.” Geralt pauses, his fingers move under Jaskier’schin and he pushes Jaskier’s head up gently. Jaskier swallows hard, again, whenhis eyes meet Geralt’s, his hands are trembling in his lap.

“Right. Yeah. Ya know I’ve beenthinking maybe I have anxiety issues. Cuz I’ve noticed that too… ya know… thatit’s- it’s been happening… a lot.” Jaskier clears his throat, his voice trailingoff.

“…Lately.” He breaths, lamely, notsure why he’s even still talking. He watches Geralt’s lips quirk, the corner ofhis mouth lifting just so, as he looks at Jaskier and Jaskier looks right back,and sighs. He can’t help it. This whole situation, this moment in time, Geraltwillingly curled up under a blanket with him, is just so… soft.

“Hmm. Anxiety. Right.” Geralt says,and he’s pressing closer, and Jaskier wants to let this happen, he wants topress forward too and close the barely there distance, but he’s… scared. Geraltis so close, Jaskier watches the Witcher’s eyes begin to fall closed and hefeels himself tense up.

“Jaskier.” Geralt breathes, stillso close.

“Mhm?” he hums, his throat so tighthe can’t manage any actual words.

“You’re overthinking it.” He whispers,his hand moving to Jaskier’s neck, his thumb moving against his cheek as hepulls him close, closing the distance. Jaskier hears himself whimper when theirlips touch. A small, needy, sound that Geralt swallows greedily, pullingJaskier closer still, his hand snaking down around Jaskier’s waist, the warmthof his skin against Jaskier’s making him gasp. Geralt smiles against his lipsand presses his tongue into Jaskier’s mouth, Jaskier fists his hands in Geralt’sshirt and holds him close, letting Geralt take whatever he wants from him.

Geralt pulls back, resting his foreheadagainst Jaskier’s. They stay that way, for a long time. Or maybe no time atall. Jaskier can’t tell the different anymore. Not right now. He’s trembling inGeralt’s arms as he holds him close. After what seems like ages and millisecondssimultaneously Geralt lays them both down, pulling Jaskier against his chest,making sure the blanket is covering them both.

“Overthinking it?” Jaskier breathes,his head resting on Geralt’s chest.

“Hmm. It’s interesting. The onlytime you seem to overthink anything, is with me.” Geralt said, thoughtful, hisfingers moving into Jaskier’s hair.

“And just what does that mean?”Jaskier tires his best to sound offended, but he’s finding it hard.

“You know very well that you don’tthink before you act. Ever.” He moves his head to look down at Jaskier as Jaskierlooks up at him.

“Except with you.” Jaskier says,his fingers curling in Geralt’s shirt. Geralt smiles softly at him, his fingersmoving soothingly against Jaskier’s scalp.

“Except with me.” Geralt agrees.Jaskier looks at him for a moment longer and then rests his head back againstGeralt’s chest, wrapping his arm around him and snuggling closer.

“And you just love that don’t you? Beingthe one thing that makes me think.” Jaskier pokes him in the ribs.

“Not especially. You overthink andyour heart gets loud. Very annoying.” Geralt mutters, but presses a kiss intoJaskier’s hair.

“Oh shut up. I know you love it.”Jaskier mumbles, he can feel sleep coming to claim him, his eyelids heavy.

“Hmm.” Geralt hums, his chestrumbling beneath Jaskier’s cheek.

“Geralt?” Jaskier asks, his eyesfalling shut and then snapping open, his whole body twitching as he fights offsleep.

“Jaskier.”

“Don’t leave me. Promise you’ll behere when I wake up.” Jaskier whispers the words into Geralt’s chest like a prayer.

“I’m not going anywhere. Go tosleep Julian. I’ll see you in the morning. I’ll be right here.” Jaskier smilesat the name, sounding so right in Geralt’s mouth. He feels Geralt’s arm wrap aroundhim, holding him close, and lets sleep carry him away to dreams full of rainand laughter.

#amazingmsme #hey hi hello thank you for this so much #geraskier prompt #geraskier request #requests #prompts #geraskier fic #geraskier #prompt fil #my writing

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amazingmsme · 4 years

Text

Geralt’s Clotpoles

AN: This was a collab I did with @im-absolutelee-ticklish & we had a blast writing this! Hope you all enjoy this! & the song Jaskier sings is to the tune of The Farmer in the Dell. Now on with the fic!

They had been traveling for quite a while between missions, spending more downtime camping in the woods and training Ciri to use her abilities. Geralt was pleasantly surprised when Jaskier and Ciri became quick friends, though he figured he shouldn’t be too shocked. Jaskier was friendly and likable, bringing joy wherever he went. And Ciri was a kind and curious soul, eager to learn and help where she could. He was happy that they got along so well and took comfort in knowing it was one less thing he needed to worry about. But like everything, it came with a downside.

It was a nice day. The sun was shining and the day was warm, but not too hot. And there was this noise, this incessant chattering that buzzed like a fly in his ear. Ciri and Jaskier had not stopped talking since they had left the camp earlier that day. Geralt had chosen to ignore it most of the time. As the day wore on it became more and more difficult. They weren’t even talking about anything interesting. First, it had been gossip about people they apparently despised, then they had moved on to singing. Jaskier was teaching Ciri different singing techniques and they didn’t always make her sound as sweet as she was. Besides, he didn’t need two singer/songwriters in their party of three. The bard was plenty enough. Fortunately he was able to tune them out for a while. That was until he heard something that made his ears twitch.

They were talking quietly enough to where most of the conversation was mumbled vowels and consonants, but he was able to decipher a few words. One of those words being his own name. He strained to hear what they were saying, but even with his enhanced hearing, it was near impossible. He turned to look over his shoulder, watching Jaskier lean down to whisper something in Ciri’s ear, cupping a hand over his mouth. Whatever he said made her giggle, and they both cut their eyes his way. He quickly turned his head forward like he had just made a glance back and not as if he was staring at them. This caused them to both let out a few giggles as they went back to whispering. Finally, Geralt had had enough.

“We’re stopping here.” He said in his usual gruffness. Ciri and Jaskier stopped and went silent just staring at him.

“In the middle of the road?” Jaskier asked. Geralt only gave an annoyed grunt in response, leading Roach off the path. They stood on the road just watching Geralt for a while before a grin started to appear on Jaskier’s face. As he followed the witcher he began to sing one of those silly little songs he had come up with earlier that day.

“O’ the witcher is a dad, the witcher is a dad.

Geralt’s now a father,

With his daughter of surprise!” The song was peppy and catchy, and he swayed from side to side as he strummed. Ciri followed close behind giggling and clapping in time with the song.

“That one is a fun one, don’t you think so daddy?” Ciri playfully teased running up and hugging the back of his leg. Geralt smirked down at her from where he sat atop Roach. He used his boot to gently nudge her away.

“No. It’s flat.” Jaskier gasped.

“I’m flat? I’m … Now when have I ever been flat?”

Geralt found himself smirking even more, an uncharacteristic streak of mischief rearing its head. “Since the day we met.” Now it was Ciri's turn to gasp as she backed up and looked between Jaskier and Geralt. Jaskier stood, mouth agape; he was trying to figure out if he had heard correctly.

"What?"

"You heard me."

Jaskier’s mouth hung open, his hands on his hips. “You have some nerve!”

"I do? Well, I guess that makes sense with hunting monsters and all." Jaskier crossed his arms with a huff, stomping off to stand near Ciri.

“Smart ass,” he mumbled. Ciri gave him a sympathetic look, patting his arm.

“There there, your voice is very lovely,” she comforted. Geralt started to grin, he just couldn’t help himself.

“Now don’t go giving him false hope Ciri, that does nothing for him. Only makes it harder in the long run.” He got off Roach and started setting up what would be their camp for the night.

“Don’t listen to him. He’s just grumpy because you have the voice of an angel and he can’t sing even one note in tune with a cricket. Let alone put together enough words to form a sentence.” Ciri continued to comfort Jaskier as she turned and scowled at Geralt, sticking her tongue out at him. He just so happened to turn around just then, and she immediately stuck her tongue back in her mouth and turned back around.

“Hey Ciri,” he called, gaining her attention. She whipped around to look at him, her hair fanning out with the motion. He stuck his tongue out at her in retaliation. She couldn’t help but giggle.

“Real mature.” He shrugged, going back to work as he spoke.

“What can I say, you’re rubbing off on me.” Ciri rolled her eyes and turned her attention back on the sulking bard.

“Hey Jasky, don’t be sad.” She paused for a moment trying to think of something to cheer her friend up. “Let’s race to see who can find the prettiest rock.” Jaskier couldn’t help the smile that was playing on his lips. Ciri was just too sweet and adorable.

“Okay pumpkin.” He wrapped an arm around her. “Ready?”

“Ready!” she exclaimed. Jaskier was sitting on his knees, ready to bolt.

“Go!” They set off in search of suitable rocks for their playful competition. Geralt just rolled his eyes and started putting together what would be their meal. In a few minutes both of them had collected a good handful of rocks, they sat down beside each other and started sifting through what they had. All of a sudden out of the corner of her eye Ciri saw a shimmering rock in Jaskier’s pile. He hadn’t quite sorted that far. Sneakily Ciri reached over and grabbed the rock, placing it in her pile. A short while later he had finished sorting his rocks, looking at the ground in confusion. He swept his hands in the grass, feeling all around in search of his last rock.

“I could’ve sworn I had another one,” he wondered aloud. His eyes landed on the shimmering rock that he definitely remembered picking up. “Ciri. What are you doing with my rock?” He leaned over to grab it but Ciri snatched it up first.

“It’s in my pile! What are you trying to do with my rock?”

“Ciri, c’mon. You know it’s mine, give it back.” He said growling at her playfully. She held the rock close to her chest.

“No, it’s mine,” she insisted.

“Ciri…” Jaskier warned.

“No!” she squealed starting to stand up. Jaskier grabbed at her arms quickly pulling her onto him as they fell back. His hands found her sides and he started squeezing them lightly and quickly. A loud shriek pierced through the air followed by bubbly giggles. She thrashed in his hold, batting at his hands weakly. She was curled in a tight ball and Jaskier’s skilled fingers wormed their way underneath her arms. Geralt had finished setting up and preparing their food, he sat there watching them.

“Are you going to give me my rock back?” he asked in a teasing voice. She shook her head, mouth hanging open, her laughter free flowing. “No? Well I guess you just want to get tickled to death,” he said casually. He formed his hand into a claw, hovering it over her belly.

“NOOO!” she screamed, rolling slightly in the grass trying to get away. “Geralt! Help me!” Geralt smiled at her from where he was.

“Why should I help you? Didn’t you cheat? And steal? And lie?” There was a playful edge to his voice. He got up and walked toward them. Once reaching them he stood there thinking. “Hmmmm." He grunted. Then a smirk appeared on his lips, looking down and with a teasy voice. "Okay, I’ll help you.”

“What?!” Jaskier exclaimed. Geralt ignored him and he reached down grabbing her under the arms gently. Using his thumbs he wiggled them in her armpits. She squealed and tried to get out of his grip.

“This is what happens to little girls who get caught.” Geralt teased. Jaskier grinned and came up in front of the squealing girl. He looked up at her as he lifted her shirt, giving her a wink before blowing a huge raspberry right in the middle of her tummy. She had no choice but to lay there and take it. Her legs kicked out and she tossed her head from side to side.

“Maybe you’ll think twice before cheating,” Jaskier said. He reached up, wiggling a few fingers under her chin. She slammed her head down, trapping his fingers while she bit her tongue to try and suppress her giggles. Geralt reached down, squeezing her hips causing her to buck and double over in hysterics.

“Okay!” She shrieked in laughter. “I’ve lehehearned!” Jaskier looked up at Ciri, then Geralt. He waved at Geralt to stop and give her a breather.

“Hmmmm, I don’t think you’ve learned quite yet. Just one last thing and then I know for sure you’ll have learned.” He grinned. Ciri caught her breath as she tried to glare at Jaskier.

“Nohoho mohohore,” she pleaded. Jaskier grinned at her and bopped her nose, making her scrunch up her face adorably.

“Only one last thing, whiny! You can handle that, can’t you?” he teased, knowing her sense of pride would outweigh the need for it to stop. She shrugged as she caught her breath, “I mean I guess-“ Jaskier giggled with glee.

“Alright. Close your eyes.” Ciri frowned and stuck her tongue out at Jaskier before doing so. Jaskier started a countdown knowing that would really get to her. “Fiiiiiiiive, Fooooour.”

“Noohooooo, doohooon’t” Both Jaskier and Geralt grinned. Geralt put his arms around her, hugging her close to him to keep her from squirming and to hold her close, to let her know he had her.

“Threeeeeee, twoooooooo.” Jaskier’s hands found Ciri’s thighs and started squeezing like mad. Her reaction was immediate, a loud shrill screech echoing through the air. Her legs drummed on the ground and she smacked a hand on Geralt’s knee. A bright blush made its way on her face as her mouth hung open in frantic laughter that soon became silent. After a moment of her silent laughing Geralt told Jaskier to back off.

“She’s had enough.” Jaskier gave one last squeeze before letting go. He ruffled his hand in her hair affectionately. It didn’t take long for Ciri’s laughs to come back and she slowed down to giggling between breaths.

“You’re a meanie Jasky.”

“Next time don’t cheat and this doesn’t have to happen.” He grinned and winked. Fluttering his fingers in her neck as he passed by moving toward the little campsite. “Mmmmmm, this smells good, what are we eating tonight?” Ciri squealed and scrunched her neck as Geralt slowly released her from his hold making sure she wouldn’t fall over. Then he turned around, taking Ciri’s hand they walked and took a seat around the fire.

Jaskier had a smug look as he sat on a log and grabbed his lute. He idly plucked at the strings and hummed the tune from earlier. Ciri glared at him playfully from where she sat next to Geralt. He shot her a wink in return. When Geralt rolled his eyes with an annoyed huff, Jaskier used his other eye to wink at him.

“Hmm.” At that, he winked again, this time much more exaggerated and opened his mouth, making it very obvious what he was doing. Geralt tilted his head, “You’re being a real clotpole.”

Jaskier chuckled, “Why thank you for the heartfelt compliment.” Geralt growled in response.

"You know that wasn't a compliment." Jaskier winked back and had a smug grin on his face. It was then that Ciri had an idea and she leaned over and whispered into Geralt's ear. Jaskier could see as Ciri was talking a grin started to appear on the witcher's face. He was starting to get a little nervous now. Even more so as they both looked at him with smug grins and eyes that looked like they were going to eat him for dinner. Jaskier cleared his throat nervously and gave them a small smile.

"Well this sure looks good. You've really outdone yourself this time Geralt!" He chuckled nervously. "Should we eat?"

"Yes, we should." That time Geralt made very clear that he was not talking about the food he had prepared. Rather a lanky, annoying bard would be on the menu tonight.

“Right. Uh, I’ll get us some dishes,” he said, keeping an eye on them as he grabbed some discs and cutlery from Roach’s saddle bag. They all helped themselves to the food and ate in mostly silence. Every once in a while Jaskier would see Ciri lean over and whisper in Geralt’s ear, making a sly smirk appear on his face as he glanced over at him. Or Geralt would lean down to tell her something that made her grin from ear to ear. Frankly, it put the bard on edge. Jaskier was finishing his food quite quickly. But it seemed like the other two were taking their sweet time. In the meantime Jaskier tried to work on a song but his nerves were getting the better of him and he wasn't able to focus properly. This did not go unnoticed by the others.

Ciri tilted her head, a sweet smile plastered on her face with something sinister hiding underneath. “What’s wrong Jaskier? You seem… nervous.” He let out a string of chuckles to mask his growing fear and anticipation.

“What? Me? I’m not nervous.” Geralt raised a brow and glanced at his leg, which was bouncing up and down rapidly. “I’m just trying to figure out the tempo for this song,” he said, pulling an excuse out of his ass.

Geralt hummed, “Fast song.” Jaskier nodded, lips pressed together thinly.

“Mhm. Very energetic.” He nodded as he spoke, as if to convince himself of the lie.

“What’s the song about?” Ciri asked, scooting closer to the edge of the log. Jaskier’s mouth hung open in thought, head tilted back and eyes squinting slightly.

“Not sure yet. Just working on the beat.” By now both Geralt and Ciri had finished eating and set their discs aside. Jaskier was quick to find something else to busy himself. He knew they were planning something, and he was pretty sure he knew what it was. “Why don’t I wash these up?” He didn’t wait for an answer, jumping up and gathering the discs to clean them in the nearby river.

Ciri looked at Geralt, clearly amused and trying to suppress her laughter. “You think he knows?”

“Now what possibly gave you that idea?” Geralt joked.

"Oh I don't know. Just look at him!" She was talking loud enough for him to hear. "He's all jumpy, and blushy and when does he ever want to do the dishes or help out?" she teased. Jaskier dropped the disc he was washing.

“Hey now, I do the dishes all the time!” he yelled over his shoulder.

"Is that why we always need to get new ones? Because you get too flustered and you drop them all so they either break or get lost?" Geralt teased evilly. Jaskier flushed pink and turned his back to them, focusing on cleaning the unbroken dishes. He grumbled to himself, mocking his tone of voice. Pleased with his work, he stood to his feet, spinning on his heels. He gasped when he was face to face with Geralt and stumbled back, losing his balance on the river bank. Geralt reached out and grabbed him by his shirt, pulling him back to safety. Jaskier couldn’t help but notice just how close he was pressed against Geralt’s chest and felt his mouth go dry.

“Mhm- uh, th-thanks for that,” he said, patting a hand on his chest a bit awkwardly. He tried to walk away, and frowned when Geralt still had a grip on his shirt. "Uhh, Geralt? You can let go of me now. I'm not in danger of falling in anymore." He chuckled nervously and tried to walk again.

"Just where do you think you're off to?" Geralt asked gruffly and with a sly smirk on his face that made Jaskier gulp and squirm where he stood.

“Yeah,” Ciri piped up, suddenly at his side, “Did you think we’d let you go after earlier?” Jaskier was smiling nervously now as he looked down at her.

“Well a man can hope, can’t he? Besides, that’s in the past now,” he tried to reason. Ciri looked at Geralt who raised an eyebrow.

"Hmmmm, let me …" Ciri started as Geralt looked at her and started to slowly release him. A spark of hope hit Jaskier as he felt the grip loosening. Then "NOPE!" and Geralt had him pinned on his back with his arms over his head in a few seconds flat. Jaskier didn't even know what hit him. He stared at them wildly before he burst into giggles as Ciri was clawing at his torso.

“Nohohoho! I’m sohohorry!” he yelled, unable to hold in his laughter. He kicked his legs out and rolled back and forth in the grass, but nothing alleviated the sensations.

“Aw that’s nice, but I’m not looking for an apology,” Ciri said as her fingers climbed up his ribs. Jaskier's laugh got a little squeakier as her fingers continued to climb.

"Ciri! Pleeheeeease!" Ciri looked up at Geralt, her fingers scratching just underneath the ticklish bard’s armpits.

"You hear that Geralt? He's asking nicely for you to help me!"

“I AM NOT!” he all but screamed. Geralt knew all of his worst spots and was completely merciless. Ciri tickling him was driving him mad, but if he joined, Jaskier knew he’d die. Geralt tilted his head in thought.

“Hmm. I don’t know, I think I have to side with Ciri on this,” he said. Switching his grip to one hand, he used his other to scratch his blunt nails along Jaskier’s neck. He squealed and scrunched up like a turtle, trying to protect himself. Ciri who had now moved her fingers into his armpits, grinned and giggled.

"Awwww, is this too tickly Jasky? Maybe next time you shouldn't be so mean." She teased, using his tone and similar words from earlier. "Maybe next time you'll learn." Jaskier was laughing too hard to respond. She moved to his stomach, poking all around his belly rapidly, not giving him the chance to get used to the feeling.

His laughter jumped an octave, becoming higher pitched and breathier as he tried to dislodge her attacks. Between every few giggles, his entire body would jolt with a hiccup. The jittery, jumpy sounds leaving his mouth made Ciri beam down at him as her fingers continued their onslaught.

“Awww that’s so cute!” Upon hearing the compliment, Jaskier flushed a deep shade of pink. Ciri met Geralt’s eyes, “Isn't it cute?” she asked rhetorically.

Geralt looked away, “Mm.” A man of few words, as always. Ciri giggled with her tongue between her teeth. Her fingers continued their journey across his torso, slowly moving closer to his hips.

“Fuck! No Ciri please! Nohohot thehehere, Geralt doho something!”

Geralt moved his hands down to Jaskier's lower ribs effectively holding him down with his knees while massaging his fingers into them. He nodded at Ciri to go for it. Ciri giggles before diving in her little thumbs, drilling into those sensitive hip bones making Jaskier scream.

“Shihihit!” He bucked wildly, but was unable to get away or lessen the sensations. His legs drummed on the ground, managing to dig little ruts into the soft earth.

"Wow, he certainly is ticklish. Aren't you Jasky? Have you had enough? Or do you need more before you've learned your lesson?" Her fingers didn't lift up for even a milisecond. She had the biggest grin on her face. Looking up she saw that Geralt was enjoying this just as much. She loved it when they were all happy and having fun.

Jaskier was quick to answer between laughs. “Yes, yes, I hahaha, Ihi’ve learned okay? Quihihihit!” Geralt finally showed mercy and let him go. Jaskier immediately curled in on himself, falling to his side as he batted Ciri’s lingering hands away. Ciri giggled and put in a few final pokes and squeezes before stopping and allowing him to calm down. Once Jaskier had regained his composure and started to sit up he tried to glare at the pair. Ciri threw herself into him, hugging him tightly.

Jaskier couldn't help but to return the hug. “I swear you two are just trying to kill me,” he muttered into her hair. When she giggled at him, he pinched her cheek. “I mean it. You’re lucky I’m still here,” he teased, fixing Geralt with a hard but playful glare from over the princess’s shoulder. Geralt rolled his eyes.

“Always so dramatic. You’ll be fine, I assure you.”

"Pardon me if I don't take a witcher's assurance of being fine seriously." Geralt raised an eyebrow and a hand with wiggling fingers in response. Jaskier squeaked and hid behind Ciri as much as he could as Geralt chuckled and sent him a wink. Ciri rubbed his back gently to try to help him relax.

"It's okay Jasky. I'll keep you safe." She grinned and let out a yawn.

"Ahhh, I think it's bedtime." Jaskier sang softly. Turning her in his arms so she was laying in them like a baby. He started to sing a soft lullaby to her. She snuggled closer to his body, able to hear his still slightly rapid heartbeat begin to slow. A hand softly ran through her hair, and she closed her eyes with a smile. The gentle vibration that echoed through his chest added an extra comfort that helped lull her to sleep. Jaskier glanced up as he sang and caught Geralt staring at them fondly. Something akin to love burned in his golden irises. Jaskier smiled sweetly as he finished his song. Leaning back against a tree he too closed his eyes and hummed himself to sleep.

Geralt watched as they slept soundly and he smiled as he thought about the day they had had. Yes, they had been annoying and had gotten on his nerves. But there had been laughter and fun as well. He would rather have all the frustration of having them around if he got to hear their beautiful laughs, see their beaming smiles, and feel the love and care they had for each other and for him. Yes, they were both clotpoles. But they were his clotpoles. And that was more than he could ever ask for.

#geralt of rivia #geralt #jaskier #ciri #ciri of cintra #the witcher #the witcher fic #the witcher tickle fic #ticklish!ciri #ticklish!jaskier #fic collab #collab #absolutelee-ticklish

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krreader · 5 years

Text

like a butterfly | final chapter.

pairing: min yoongi x reader fandom: bts warnings: non idol!au ; single dad!yoongi ; language genre: fluff ; angst ; smut previous: 1 ; 2 ; 3 ; 4 ; 5 ; 6 ; 7 ; 8 ; 9 ; 10 ; 11 ; 12 ; 13 ; 14 ; 15 ; 16

summary: you never planned on becoming the babysitter of min yoongi’s daughter, one of the richest and most famous producers of south korea. you also didn’t plan on becoming so attached to the little girl, as well as her father. (Or: hot, successful and single dad hires broke babysitter.)

a/n: and that’s it. I can’t believe it’s over, like holy fucking shit. this was the first original story I ever posted and you guys were so freaking supportive, it makes me so fucking happy. I honestly doubt that I’d be writing so much today if it weren’t for this story. Thank you for following and liking this story, thank you for all your wonderful messages and thank you for sticking with me till the end, I genuinely hoped you are happy with the ending and that you know it was an absolute blast writing it. ♥

If someone had told you two years ago that you'd end up here, you would have laughed.

You, a broke college student who was taking on horrible jobs to pay rent and college tuition, would end up right here.

No way.

“You look gorgeous,” Jimin said with a huge grin as he entered the room, Ciri and Taehyung grinning at him from the couch they were sitting on, “I can't believe this is finally happening. My silly best friend, finally all grown up.”

“You're an asshole,” you laughed.

But he was right.

You had grown up.

You weren't a college student anymore but had finally graduated with better grades than you ever would have expected.

Most of that was thanks to Yoongi and Mei who had helped you through this period. Who had always told you you could do it and who always had your back. They pushed you to study, but also told you to take breaks. They distracted you, made sure you were eating enough and at night, when you were feeling so frustrated with everything, they offered warm embraces and kind words..

In the end, you had been so confident that you had managed to graduate amazingly and find a job that you had always wanted ever since you started university.

And now you were.. successful.

And not because of Yoongi, he didn't have his hands in your success. You did this all by yourself. You achieved your goals all by yourself, all that he did was be by your side and give you moral support and that was all you could have ever wanted.

“Anyways, they're almost ready for you. There's just.. one more thing.”

“And what's that?”

You turned your head to look at the door, your smile growing when Mei ran into your arms in her beautiful flower girl dress that she had picked out all by herself. And god.. she looked like a little princess with this purple dress and her hair put up in a bun, flowers sticking out of it.

“You look beeeeeautiful,” she laughed happily.

“So do you, princess,” you kissed her cheek and looked at the envelope she was holding, “What's that?”

Yoongi leaned against the door frame with a small smile, his hands buried in the pockets of his pants.

“She couldn't wait anymore.”

It seemed as if everyone in the room knew what this was about except for you. They were all excited about this envelope, while you were just confused.

It was.. just an envelope..

You put the little girl down and she immediately reached for your hand and led you to an unoccupied couch, Yoongi sitting down next to her.

“Daddy, can you explain it?” she knew what it was, but she had troubles forming the words. Maybe that was because of how nervous she was, but Yoongi would gladly do it nevertheless.

“This wasn't my idea, Mei wanted this all by herself. And.. well.. I think it's an amazing idea.”

“Okay?” you laughed, then furrowed your eyebrows and looked around the room, “Mind filling me in on it, then, since everyone but me seems to know what this is about?”

Yoongi was about to start, but then Mei decided that she wanted to do it. She just couldn’t help her excitement.

Maybe the right words wouldn't matter.

Her father was right, this was her idea, so it should come from her.

“All my friends have families of a mommy and a daddy or some even have two daddies or two mommies, but I always only had a daddy. And.. I always wanted to have a mommy,” she nervously opened the envelope and handed you the piece of paper, “And then you came and I knew I wanted you to be my mommy. You’re making me happy again when I cry, you read me bedtime stories at night, you take me to the park when I’m bored, you make me food whenever I’m hungry.. you’re everything I ever wanted. I wanted you and daddy to be together and be my family. The family I always dreamed of.”

You were still confused, right up to the point where you finally read what was written on that paper.

And the second you placed your hand over your mouth not to choke on your tears, everyone else in the room became emotional.

Ciri was the first to cry, then it was Jimin.

“You already are my mommy, but.. I want you to really be my mommy.”

You stared at the paper for a very long time, re-reading it over and over again like you couldn’t believe what she had given you right there.

'Adoption Form'

They had already filled everything in. Mei’s name, Yoongi’s name, your name.. all the signatures were already on there except for yours.. yours was the only one that was missing..

“I love you so much,” you finally choked out and pulled her into your arms.

Your daughter.

“I love you too.. mommy.”

And then even Yoongi couldn't stop himself anymore.

He was the happiest man alive on this day and he was happily crying because of it.

“Alright, let them have a moment for themselves, you guys,” Taehyung quietly said as he was leading his wife and Jimin out of the room.

Yoongi was wrapping his arms around both of you in the meantime and kissed your forehead, smiling at you with tears in his eyes as you were still crying.

“We're a family!” Mei said with excitement, tilting her head back to look at the both of you, “We're finally a family! Forever!”

“Forever, baby girl,” Yoongi confirmed and kissed her head.

This beautiful girl in your arms that you had met at a bus stop, who had been so upset because she was so lonely, was looking back at you with pure happiness in her eyes, because she had finally found the family she had always wanted.

And you turned out to be the mother she always wished for..

“I'll tell all my friends about it!” she yelled happily and then sprinted out of the room without you even having signed anything yet.

But you would do that first thing after today.

“I asked her to wait till it's over, but you know how she is,” Yoongi laughed, wiping away your tears.

“I'm glad she asked now. It just makes this day more perfect,” you got up and walked back over to the mirror, trying to fix your make-up.

Thankfully your make-up artist for this day had predicted tears and there was no major damage done.

Yoongi slowly got up and followed you, wrapping his arms around you from behind and placing his hands on your belly.

“Maybe we should have told her about this as well..”

“Not sure if she can take so much excitement in one day,” you laughed and looked at him through the mirror, “Remember when we surprised her with that Disneyland trip and she peed herself?”

“Yeah.. maybe you’re right. It’ll be hard to find another dress like hers in such a short amount of time,” Yoongi chuckled.

“Let’s just wait a few more days.. she’ll be as excited next week as she would be today if we told her now.”

“True. Especially when she finds out that it's actually going to be a baby brother that she so desperately wanted.”

You placed your hands over his and leaned back against his chest, “We'll tell her tomorrow.. or the day after. After I sign the documents..”

“Sounds good to me,” he kissed your cheek and then walked back over to the door, but when you wouldn't join him, he asked: “Are you coming? I think they’re all waiting on us now..”

“Give me a minute. I'll be right with you.”

Yoongi just nodded with a smile and closed the door behind him, leaving you and your thoughts alone.

Something that you’d probably need after all of this.

Your life had changed so drastically over the last two years..

..to think that this man who had left the room right now used to be someone you used to have screaming matches with. Someone that you once loathed..

It was almost unthinkable with the way you loved him now.

You placed your hands on your belly where his had lain only a moment ago and smiled happily.

“Your father and I can't wait to meet you.. and your sister.. god.. your sister will be over the moon to finally hold you. And trust me, Mei will be the best big sister you could ever want. She’ll make sure that you’re never lonely and she’ll always take care of you,” you bit your lower lip and took a good look at yourself, “I'm just so.. happy, you know? I can't wait to start this life I've never thought I'd have..”

You continued to talk to your unborn son for a bit longer, until there was another knock on your door and Jimin walked back inside.

“Ready to get married, princess?” he grinned happily, offering his arms to lead you down the aisle.

Everyone was waiting.

Taehyung and his family, his wife, his two girls and their newest addition, girl number three.

Jeongguk, or as he was known for now, Jungkook, a young boy with dreams that Yoongi turned into a superstar.

Namjoon and his fiancé, believe it or not, Sarah, the one you used to hate so much, but now counted among your best friends.

Jin, the one who once wanted to ruin you, but ended up helping you more than you could thank him for, now a successful model thanks to your husband.

And then there was Hoseok, standing next to your husband because the two of them had developed such a strong friendship over the last year that he ended up being his best man.

You smiled at your best friend, then turned back around to look at the mirror one last time and nodded.

“I'm ready.”

It was insane how you had transformed in the last years.

Someone who had nothing and who felt nothing, to someone who had everything she ever wanted and felt pure happiness.

Your story was like..

..like a butterfly.

#bts imagine #bts x reader #min yoongi x reader #suga x reader #min yoongi imagine #yoongi x reader #yoongi imagine #suga imagine #bangtan boys #bts #bangtan sonyeondan #min yoongi #suga #yoongi #reader #mine

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thearvariblues · 4 years

Text

The Bard And The Wolf - Chapter Five

(AKA Geraskier in the Metal Band AU you didn’t know you needed)

AKA me desperately trying to catch up my Tumblr with what’s already been posted to AO3. ;)

The masterpost for this fic can be found HERE.

5 – No Firstborns Needed

Even though the food Geralt had brought him certainly helped, it still took Jaskier a significant amount of time to recover from the hangover. He had to admit it to himself – he wasn’t getting any younger. There used to be times when he would drink all night and be completely alright in the morning…

Nah, that was a lie. His hangovers always used to be hell, but this was worse than ever.

He was mostly alright, though, when his phone rang in the afternoon.

He answered it without even looking at the screen.

“I’m listening,” he said.

“Uhm. Erm. Hi,” a girl’s voice replied. “This is… This is Ciri.”

“Ciri!” Jaskier beamed. “How are you? I was gonna call you, I swear, I wanted to thank you for sharing the video, and also for not telling on me to your dad… Oh, no, I mean, I probably shouldn’t be thanking you for lying to your father...”

“Didn’t lie to him. Just didn’t tell him,” Ciri said.

“That’s not making it any better,” Jaskier murmured. “Anyway! You were calling me for a reason, I guess?”

“Yeah, yeah. I just wanted to ask… Well, since you’re definitely staying, because the fans really love you, I… I mean… Would you like to go shopping with me?”

“Shopping?” Jaskier blinked. “Oh, you mean for some clothes to fit my new metal singer image?”

“Yes. I know all the good places. Mom takes me with her all the time. I know where they have the best T-shirts and pants and–”

“Yeah, sure, I’d love to go! Wait… Does your father know about it?”

“Does he have to?”

“Well, I’d like to stay alive, so yes, he kind of does.”

“Right. So I’ll… ask him and then call you back?”

“Perfect,” Jaskier smiled. “And what about Renfri? Is she coming too?”

“She said she’d rather cut off her right hand with a pocket knife.”

“I’ll take that as a no.”

“That’s definitely a no. Right, I’m gonna go and ask dad. Might take a few minutes, though. He’s working, and when he’s working, it takes him a while to start focusing on anything else.”

“That’ fine. Yeah. Right. See you soon. Well, hear you soon.”

“Bye, Jaskier.”

Geralt didn’t mind Ciri going with Jaskier. He even called Jaskier himself to tell him that. (And also to tell him that Ciri is allowed to buy something, too, within reason, and that he would give her his credit card, in case she wanted something she couldn’t afford to buy with her pocket money… Jaskier couldn’t help but think it was incredibly cute.)

So Jaskier went shopping with Ciri.

Two hours later, he had five large bags of clothes and his credit card was weeping silently in his wallet. Oh, dear, he would have to take some new students. At least two. Maybe even three. He didn’t want to, but he would have to.

Who’d have thought black clothes were so damn expensive?! (Except he absolutely didn’t buy only black clothes, quite the opposite, in fact.)

Right, right. So it might not have been absolutely necessary to buy those black leather pants and that leather jacket… But Jaskier had wanted a real leather jacket for a while, okay?

“So, am I now officially ready to take my place in the band?” he asked Ciri. He’d dropped the bags off at his flat and he and the girl were currently walking to Kaer Morhen’s rehearsal. Ciri was carrying a little bag with a black-and-purple striped dress that Jaskier wasn’t sure Geralt would approve of, but Jaskier definitely approved. It looked so good on the girl. It was stylish, but not revealing, a perfect dress for a kid her age…

“You’re more than ready,” Ciri said. “You look great.”

Oh, yes, so Jaskier had definitely found the time to change while he was at home. He was now wearing tight black pants, a dark purple T-shirt and a black brocade vest that, he had to admit, did wonders for his figure. His waist looked slimmer, his shoulders broader… Yeah, he looked great as hell.

“All thanks to you, mylady,” he grinned.

“Hush. You chose most of the clothes yourself. You just needed someone who would make you actually buy them. Like the coat.”

Oh, yes, the coat. The coat that was currently spread on his bed. The coat that had already managed to become one of Jaskier’s most prized possessions.

The beautiful, steel blue, double breasted, clearly Victorian era-inspired thing cost more than half of Jaskier’s monthly income, and it was love at first sight. He tried to be be strong, tried to resist, tried to remind himself that he was saving money so he could buy his own flat instead of renting it… But then Ciri saw him drooling at the coat and said: “Oh my God, you have to try it on!”

And so he did. And he was lost.

“It’s not exactly… what a metal singer should wear, is it? I mean, the color is so… light? Too light,” he had tried to protest, stroking the fabric lovingly.

“Don’t be silly. Female singers wear light colors all the time. Even mum did!”

“Mum?”

“Yennefer? Hello?”

“Yeah. Of course. Of course. Way to win the fans’ hearts, by pretending to be her.”

“Nobody’s gonna think you’re her, stupid. Buy it. I bet dad’s gonna love it. It’s one of his favorite colors.”

“I’ve never seen him wear anything but black.”

“I didn’t say his favorite to wear. He just… likes it.”

And it shouldn’t have been the last impulse Jaskier needed to buy the fucking thing, but it kind of was.

“I still think you should have bought the golden jacket, too.”

“Sorry, sweetie, but even the coat was a bit too much. The jacket? I could never afford that.”

That beautiful, gorgeous, amazing golden jacket with V-shaped stripes on the front. Oh, yes, he would kill for that beauty, but he wasn’t ready to eat dry rice for the next two months.

“Too bad. You looked beautiful in it.”

“I know, Ciri, I know,” Jaskier sighed.

They were nearly at the door. Nearly at the rehearsal room. But then Jaskier heard fast footsteps behind them and he (stupid, stupid, stupid!) decided to turn his head.

“Oh, hello,” said a voice Jaskier never wanted to hear again. “If it isn’t the useless wannabe singer! And who’s that? She’s a little too young to be your girlfriend, isn’t she?”

“Who the hell is he?” Ciri muttered.

“Valdo Marx,” Jaskier growled. “What do you want?”

“Oh, nothing. I just wanted to say hello!” Valdo grinned a crooked grin. “I saw your video. Man, I’ve never seen something so ridiculous. Have you been kicked out, yet? You’d deserve to be kicked out for that shit!”

“Since there was no bitch around who would be horny for my place in the band… Nope, still in, sorry.”

“And what about that terrible song?” Valdo continued, as if Jaskier didn’t say anything. “Toss a coin to your whatever. I’m not surprised Dandelions had to get rid of you! Ugh, appalling.”

“Excuse me?!” Ciri exclaimed and took a step in Valdo’s direction.

“Ciri. No. He’s not worth it,” Jaskier said, stopping her. “Valdo. May I introduce you to Cirilla, Geralt’s daughter and a former fan of Dandelions, now a devoted fan of Kaer Morhen?”

“And a fan of Jaskier,” Ciri added.

“Geralt? As in the singer of Kaer Morhen?” Valdo snorted. “Oh, dear. You really did suck his cock, didn’t you? Since he’s borrowed you his daughter. Has he fucked you yet? You’ve always said he was a moron, I’m sure you’re really desperate for him to fuck you.”

Jaskier’s eyes went wide, and this time he took a step towards the man.

“What did you say you bitch?!” he growled.

A hand grabbed his shoulder from behind.

Jaskier turned, kind of expecting to see Geralt there, but no. It was Lambert, a smirk on his lips and murder in his eyes.

“Relax, sweetie,” he said. “I’ll take care of it.”

“And you are?” Valdo asked.

“Lambert. Funny you don’t remember me, because you spent weeks trying to get in my pants when you wanted to sleep your way into Kaer Morhen. I ruined it for you by being so annoyingly and boringly heterosexual. Don’t worry, though, even if I was gay, you’d stand no chance.”

“Burn, baby, burn,” Jaskier smirked.

“Now, Valdo,” Lambert continued, his smirk growing a little wider. “My friend Jaskier here might be ready to cut your throat, but I would never let him.”

“Thank… you?” Valdo blinked.

“And if Geralt heard you were mean to his beloved daughter, well… He’s a calm man, I mean, he tries to be. But I don’t think he would remain calm if he heard. You know what they say, demons run when a good man goes to war.”

“Hey. I understood that reference!” Jaskier blinked.

“Shush. I’m in the middle of threatening here,” Lambert said. “Valdo. Valdo, Valdo, Valdo. Trust me. You wouldn’t like what would happen if Geralt heard about this.”

Valdo visibly paled.

“He… he doesn’t need to know, does he?”

“No, no, of course not,” Lambert nodded. “But then again… There’s still me.”

“You?”

“Me,” Lambert grinned. “My dear Valdo. There’s one thing you need to understand about me. I am not a calm man, I am not a good man, but I am also not someone who would just simply cut your throat. No. If you show your ugly face near our rehearsal room again, I am going to rip off your cock, fuck you with it, and then use it to gag you while I cut you open and remove your organs in alphabetical order. Are we clear?”

Valdo’s face was completely void of blood now. All the guy was able to do was a single short nod.

“Good. I’m glad for that,” Lambert said. “Why are you still here, then?”

With all the dignity he had left (which was, well… none), Valdo Marx turned and power-walked away without another word.

“Wow. That was awesome!” Ciri beamed.

“I had it,” Jaskier growled, looking at Lambert.

“I know. You were absolutely ready to cut his throat. Or… throttle him,” Lambert shrugged. “But Geralt doesn’t like that. He always tells me, use your words first, there’s still time for stabbing later. So I do it. I threaten, and then, if it doesn’t help, I stab.”

“And do you… stab a lot?” Jaskier asked, fearing the answer.

“Nah,” Lambert grinned. “But fist fights and bar brawls, well… Those do tend to happen.”

“That’s a relief.”

“I bet. Everything alright, Ciri?”

“Absolutely,” the girl nodded.

“Now, Jaskier. Saw your video. Did you seriously call me a dick?”

“Well,” Jaskier smirked. “You are kind of a dick.”

“Guilty as charged,” Lambert grinned. “Let’s go in. Eskel hates it when we’re late.”

They weren’t late, but someone else was. Twenty minutes late, to be more precise. And that someone was Geralt.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he said in reply to Eskel’s disapproving glance, closing the door behind him. “I was working, forgot time existed.”

“So… as usual?” Renfri smirked.

“Hush, Renfri,” Geralt glared. “It only happens once a month.”

“More like once a week,” Renfri replied.

“Thrice,” Ciri said.

“Did I ask for your opinions?” Geralt growled.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” Jaskier peeped, raising his hand. “I don’t wanna sound like an idiot, really, but… What is it that you do? I mean… your job?”

“Oh, dad’s a blacksmith, and a jeweler!” Ciri announced. “He makes those cool iron monsters and wrought iron fences and amazing rings and necklaces and earrings. Look, he made me this!”

She showed Jaskier her necklace – a beautiful swallow made of silver.

“It’s lovely,” Jaskier smiled. “Wow. Really… Wow. Geralt, what do you want for making a cool necklace for me, too? I’m kind of broke now, I have to admit, but I could offer you my firstborn, if you wanted.”

“I’m kind of glad you asked,” Geralt said. “Because that’s precisely the work I got so lost in.”

“Excuse me?”

Geralt reached into his jacket pocket and took out a pendant on a silver chain.

“I made this pendant for every member of the band. A common symbol, you might call it. A white wolf. Well, a silver wolf, really.”

“Like in the logo of Kaer Morhen? Seriously?” Jaskier blinked.

“Seriously,” Geralt smiled. “And this one is yours.”

“Mine?!”

“You are the member of the band, aren’t you?” Geralt said, raising his eyebrow. “Consider this a welcome gift. No firstborns needed.”

Jaskier raised his hand to gently touch the pendant.

“You’re kidding, right? You gotta be kidding me. How many hours did you spend making that?!”

“Not as many as you probably think,” Geralt chuckled. “I mean it. Take it. It’s yours.”

“I… Thanks, Geralt,” Jaskier beamed and took the necklace from Geralt’s hand. “It’s beautiful. But now I’m realizing… Cirilla!”

“Wow. You sounded just like dad,” the girl said. “And yeah. I knew. That’s why I wouldn’t let you buy any kind of necklace. Sorry?”

“You should be ashamed for lying to me like that,” Jaskier smirked, fastening the necklace around his neck. “How do I look?”

“Gorgeous as always,” Renfri smiled. “Welcome to the band, Jaskier. Officially.”

Eskel cleared his throat.

“Yeah, welcome. There are a few rules you need to know about before you start. Rule number one – if we say the rehearsal is starting at… let’s say seven...”

“And here we go,” Lambert smirked. “Relax, Eskel, we’ll begin in a minute. Jaskier! Have you, by chance, managed to finish that stupidly catchy song that’s been stuck in my head for… five hours now?”

“Toss A Coin?” Jaskier beamed. “Well, I have, actually! Turns out horrible hangovers are surprisingly inspirational. Would you like to hear?”

“Oh, yes!” Ciri said.

“Sure thing,” Renfri nodded. “Hey! We could even squeeze it into the setlist for the next gig! Try it out. See how people like it!”

“You think Geralt will be able to learn a song in a week?” Lambert smirked. “Ouch! That really hurt, Geralt!”

“I hope it did,” Geralt growled.

“You realize that you’re expecting me to learn several songs during the very same week?” Jaskier asked.

“Yeah, but you’re… clever,” Lambert smirked. “Ouch! Eskel, tell Geralt to stop hitting me!”

Eskel raised his drumstick.

“If you don’t stop talking so we can start, I’m gonna help him!”

“I feel very unloved right now,” Lambert muttered.

“You are very unloved right now, I think,” Renfri chuckled.

“Play us the song, Jask,” Geralt said. “Quick. I think Eskel is about to have a heart attack. Ow. Fuck you, Eskel, I’m on your side!”

“Shut up, then,” Eskel growled. “Jaskier. Take your guitar and fucking play.”

“You know, nobody ever told me playing in a metal band was so risky,” Jaskier said. “If I knew… No, no, no, don’t hit the poor bard! I’m playing, see? See? Now, how did it… Oh, yes. When a humble bard…”

“So unrealistic,” Lambert whispered, and Geralt chuckled.

“Poetic license,” he muttered.

Jaskier winked and kept on singing.

Oh, how he already loved this band of idiots.

Late that night, already in bed, Jaskier opened his Instagram. He knew he probably shouldn’t. Blue light and all that jazz, right? But he was used to browsing his social media before going to sleep, and hey, he never had any trouble sleeping afterwards. So he opened it, only to find out that he had been tagged in a pic… by Renfri?

He looked at the pic. And blinked. And blinked again.

He hadn’t noticed her even taking the photo, but she must have, somehow.

It was of him and Geralt, face to face, both holding their microphones and apparently singing, eyes closed, faces intense with concentration. It must have been in the second half of the rehearsal, because Geralt had already taken off his jacket. He was only in his absolutely inappropriate tight black T-shirt, and it took all of Jaskier’s willpower not to look at those muscular arms. He scrolled to the caption.

Because it seems that everybody wants to see those two morons on a pic together, I give you: the mighty White Wolf and @jaskierthebard working on Toss a Coin To Your Witcher. And let me tell you – they don’t just look good together, they also sound AMAZING. I can’t wait to play this song live!

#kaermorhen #workinghard #rehearsing #thebardandthewolf

Jaskier rolled his eyes.

The Bard and the Wolf? Seriously?

Yeah, that was never going to catch on…

Continue with Chapter Six

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #the bard and the wolf #the witcher fanfiction #witcher fanfiction #my fics

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