Geraskier Oneshots

True Fun

Jaskier stalked into Geralt's room with the air of one who was about to write beautiful dramatic poetry that would be scrutinized by english fanatics for years, but was truly an exaggeration of someone's irritating love affair. 

He flopped theatrically onto Geralt's bed.  "I am forever done with women,"

Geralt cocked an eyebrow without looking up from the knives he was sharpening.  "Countess dump you?"

"Yes, but different one. It seems my type is unavailable women who will never compromise nor accept me as I am," 

He rolled his eyes.  "You're fairly good at singing.  Women are... women,"

He rolled over, then sat as he spoke.  "Oh, my ego needs no stroking, Geralt, I know I'm wonderful. I just think it's high time I focus on men for awhile,"

The witcher stiffened.  "...oh.  Meaning?"

"Same type, different bits," he hid a smirk.  

Geralt was unable to stop his blush.  He grunted in acknowledgment. 

He propped himself on his elbow, a bit too casually.  "Now, to find myself a good option..."

"One might be closer than you think," he tried to busy himself again with his knives.

The bard wrinkled his nose.  "Do you mean Lambert?  Because well he's a delinquent, he does have a nice face.  Boorish, but chisl- Geralt, where are you going?"

"Forget it, bard.  You'll never date anyone here," he called, slightly muffled from the outside of the room.

The troubadour chuckled, a low, conniving chuckle.  "Don't be so sure about that, Geralt of Rivia," he rubbed his hands together with the air of someone who was planning something huge.  "Now the real fun begins."

***

It took a few days while Jaskier gathered his thoughts.  Ciri, who was very observant, noticed and at first that delayed his plans.

Then she said, "Jaskier?"

"Hmm?"  He was writing, for once unrelated to Geralt, and he hadn't heard her come in.  "Oh; hello, Ciri,"

"What are you planning?"  

"Blunt as ever," he muttered, then closed his journal.  "What do you mean, what am I planning?"

She gave a sassy little girl face.  "You're a bad liar, Dandelion,"

The poet pursed his lips.  "As are you, Princess Cirilla,"

"I'm not a Princess, I'm a witch!" 

"A rather indignant one, no?"  She gave him an unamused face.  "Fine.  Why do you want to know?"

"Because I want to help!  You're more fun than Geralt and Yennefer.  I'd rather hang out with you, and they'll leave me alone if I look busy,"

He smirked.  "Of course I'm more fun than either of them,"  How to distract her?  Ah!  He spotted his lute.  "Hey, do you want to learn how to play the lute?"

Ciri crossed her arms.  "I'll go and talk to Yennefer..."

"Ugh!  Fine!  Little snot," he stood and began to pace.  "You meddle too much in the affairs of men.  It's not good, for a young girl such as you to keep working me ov-"

"Dandelion," she growled. 

"Fine!  If you must know... I'm planning something to do with Geralt.  It's an adult matter, so you shouldn't-"