for the dialogue prompt! "Okay, forget explaining it to me like I'm 5. Explain it to me like I'm 2."
“Okay, forget explaining it to me like I’m five, explain it to me like I’m two,” Jaskier asks again. He’s bitten his nails to the quick and his knees are practically knocking together.
“We’re going to walk you down the aisle,” Lambert sighs.
“And hand you off to Geralt,” Eskel continues.
“Then you will say your vows,” Vesemir finishes. “And be... man and man, I guess?”
“Witcher and Bard,” Lambert suggests.
“They’re already a witcher and a bard,” Eskel scoffs. “Why have the priest call them that?”
“Just... Let’s just please get walking before I faint,” Jaskier interrupts their pointless bickering. “I’d like to marry into the family if that’s alright.”
Vesemir lowers the veil over his face and takes him by the arm. Lambert and Eskel take either corner of his long white cape-like train and follow him from the room. The eldest Wolf smiles down at his soon-to-be son-in-law; “It’s more than alright, Jaskier. Welcome to the Pack.”
for jaskier and the beast a little bit of jask spoiling geralt for once and geralt not knowing how tf to deal with his perfect man ♡♡♡
This one was so much fun.
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“I built us a nest.”
“Hmm?”
“Come with me to the sitting room, Geralt, and I’ll show you,” Jaskier urged, taking the Witcher’s hand in his. “That would be much simpler than describing my greatest masterpiece yet with mere words.”
The Beast allowed himself to be pulled from his meditative kneel and down the twisting corridors of Kaer Morhen; anything the little bird at his side deemed unworthy of mere words must be very impressive indeed. His consort seemed to have memorized the keep’s layout at last, no longer getting lost or wandering off in the wrong direction as regularly as he used to. He led them quickly from Geralt’s room to the sitting room.
“Ta da!”
Right in front of the fire, where Jaskier usually sat on the chaise lounge with Geralt’s head in his lap, was an enormous mound of blankets and pillows. There were furs laid out atop the already plush carpet and around the edges were the pillows, forming a sort of comfy barrier of sorts. The blankets were spread and interlocked, leaving not an inch of bare space. The Beast’s heart flooded with warmth and the animal instincts that usually felt so wild within him went calm and quiet at the sight of his nest.
The nest his darling consort had constructed for them both.
“You always seem to get fidgety after laying on the couch for too long,” the younger man explained, worrying his lip between his teeth as he always did when he was nervous. “And you always try to curl around me, anyway. I figured it would be easier to read or sing for you if you could...spread out how you want. Or arrange me more comfortably.”
“Jaskier...it’s...”
“I know it’s a lot and I can put it all away if you don’t like it,” the peasant rushed. “I dug through a lot of old tr-”
Geralt lifted his chatty consort into his arms and carried him into the tangle of blankets. He settled Jaskier’s back against the pillows as if he was made of porcelain, arranging him until he was sure the younger man was comfortable. Then he sprawled out, his head resting on his betrothed’s silk-clad thigh, his hands clasped together behind Jaskier’s back, his legs stretched out behind him and covered by a few of the blankets.
His chest began to rumble loudly when his consort’s hands found their way into his long, silver locks, already beginning to pull them into several complicated braids. “Shall I turn your hair into a crown, my king?”
“I am no king or prince,” Geralt huffed, still purring loudly beneath his words. “Do not be mistaken, little bird.”
“Then may I weave you a laurel, my Beast? My handsome Witcher? My White Wolf?”
Geralt settled into the moment, allowing the combined warmth of Jaskier and the fire to lull him back to half-meditating. Laurels were for heroes; if his future bride thought Geralt was a hero then, well, who was the Witcher to deny him? The Beast smiled and gave a quick nod. “Hmm.”
