Summary: Jaskier's been flirting with you for a while, but are you completely oblivious to his charm, or is something else going on?
Pairing: Jaskier x Female Reader
WordCount: 576
Prompt: “My hands are a bit cold. Mind warming it up for me?"
Warnings: N/A
A/N: 30 Days of 30 Drabbles for my 30th Birthday
Credit to cafekitsune for the banner and the divider!
Jaskier had heard stories of the Butcher of Blaviken; he’d heard stories of the Shieldmaiden who’d followed him. He’d often heard not to believe in others’ gossip. To never judge a book by its cover. Geralt was somewhat like they’d said—Grumpy, antisocial, brooding.
You, on the other hand, were nothing as they said you were. Yes, Jaskier had already seen you in battle, and you were every bit as skilled and deadly as Geralt. Yes, you can have a wicked tongue, especially when those attempt to oppose your loved ones.
Your tough exterior was nothing compared to your heart. You cared for Geralt deeply. The gentle touch was whenever you attended to the constant stream of injuries. The kind smile you exchanged whenever you interacted with a merchant or the public, even when they gave you a wide berth.
Jaskier began to understand why Geralt and you worked so well. You accepted Geralt for who he was. He was the stormcloud on a rainy day, and you were the sun, always pushing through the darkness, no matter what.
Perhaps that’s why Jaskier feel so hard for you. He’d fallen in love countless times, sung many ballads about love and heartbreak, yet none compared to the ones he wrote of you. He sang softly under his breath while he wandered behind you and Geralt. Jaskier’s heart felt full, his inspiration renewed.
However, there was one slight issue.
His attempts to win your heart had fallen flat so far. It had been rather disastrous.
Jaskier was confident in his abilities to woo anyone. He knew the subtle hints of seduction. He knew how to flatter, how to compliment? Yet nothing appeared to faze you. Nothing caught you off guard. A toughened and seasoned shieldmaiden. You smiled, rolling your eyes as if Jaskier was jesting.
Jaskier had never been more serious. Was there something in his tone? Was his flirtatious face humorous to you? What was he doing wrong?
Jaskier had one ploy left in his collection. It was, well, pathetic. Scraping at the bottom of a huge barrel. It was simple. It was pathetic.
Yet it played on your caring nature. It might just work…If it didn’t, Jaskier would have to ask Geralt for advice. That was scraping the bottom of the barrel.
But Jaskier was desperate.
“My hands are a bit cold. Mind warming it up for me?” You turned your head, looking back at Jaskier. You burst out laughing. Jaskier wasn’t expecting that reaction. He’d presumed you’d walked backwards and come to his aid.
“That was the worst one yet.” Jaskier stopped, flabbergasted. You’d known this entire time. Jaskier placed his hands on him.
“You’ve known I’ve been flirting with you.”
“Jaskier, you’re not subtle.”
“But-But why haven’t you said anything?” You glanced back at Geralt with a smile on your face.
“Geralt wanted to see what lengths you would go to.”
“You didn’t disappoint. Even I am better than that.” Jaskier was in disbelief. He’d fallen into a game between the two of you.
“Hold on. Did any of it work? Have you been swayed by my irresistible charm?” You moved to stand in front of Jaskier, a soft smile, taking his hands, which to your surprise were cold.
“Jaskier, you’ve had me since I caught you singing about me.” You let Jaskier’s hand, to turn around and walk away. He stood dumbfounded, before coming to his senses,
Geralt: That shirt looks great, Y/N.
You: Thanks.
Geralt: But I bet it would look even better on Jaskier's floor.
Jaskier: Are you hitting on Y/N... for me?
... 👰♀️: Moodboards ~ send me a personality trait and a character. I'll make a moodboard and write a short scene for it. For example: Morpheus x bookish!reader
Hello!! Can I please ask for Jaskier x Princess!reader please? Thank you! 😘
(click on the picture for better quality)
"You see, I am not meant for this."
"Not meant for what?" Jaskier chuckles and you feel it vibrate in his chest. He holds you close in his arms, thin sheets covering you, protecting you from the cold of the castle walls. "A warm bed? Money? Servants? Not having to worry about your next meal?"
"Boredom," you reply and click your tongue.
He laughs again. "You're spoilt, Princess."
You sit up and look at the bard. The soft features of his face, the perfectly messy hair, the warm grey eyes watching at you with so much love - and a hint of pain when he continues: "We both knew this wasn't meant for forever."
"You don't want to take me with you?", you frown.
"Oh, I want to take you anywhere, Princess." He places his hand underneath your chin and softly guided you down to him. The kiss tasted like spring and innocence and warm rays of sunshine. "Your parents would hunt us to the end of the continent. And I am not sure I can protect you out there. I couldn't live with myself if I let you get hurt."
"I know how to use a sword." Your lips brush over his as you speak. "And let the king hunt us. I don't care." There's a smile on your face and it's contagious.
"I didn't plan on falling in love with you, you know?" He brushes a strand of hair out of your face.
"Is that yes?"
"Geralt will kick my ass." He hesitates. "Alright."
The kiss that followed lost all of its innocence.
***
Hi love, I hope you like this! Thank you for sending in an ask (I'll get to the other soon!)
Warnings: nakedness, insinuations to smut but i was too lazy to actually write it lol
Author’s Note: This was so freaking cute I hope you enjoy bestie. I hope you don’t mind I didn’t end up writing the smut, I am awful at it lol. Jaskier is literally adorable i should write for him more often
Requested: by anon, Hi Maya! Are requests still open? Can I please request something romantic where Jaskier and the female reader are a couple, and they are exhausted from traveling, so they both decide to share a hot bath together, where Jaskier washes the female reader’s hair, and afterwards they cuddle together by the bed (with some light smut too) with the female reader running her fingers through Jaskier’s hair and Jaskier gently sings a song to help the reader sleep, please? Thank you SO much!!
Summary: the request
Genre: fluff
I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator
(not my gif)
Ever since Geralt had left him, Jaskier had been more influenced to travel. He wanted to see things, like he would somehow find him on his travels. The both of you knew that Geralt wouldn’t be found unless he wanted to be. But still, you followed your darling Jaskier through the rivers and woods. You had a fun time. You had never been much of a traveler yourself but it was bringing you a purpose, along with countless friends and foes.
It made life interesting.
“We should stop here,” you suggested, looking over at the sky. The sky was beginning to darken as the night fell over it. You were willing to bet on rain too.
“You are right,” he said, crossing his arms and looking around. There were still plenty of people on the cobblestone ground, bustling away with errands and chatting with others. It seemed like a peaceful town, though you truthfully had no idea where you were. “Shall we find a tavern?”
“Or perhaps a bed?” you suggested.
“I like where your head's at!”
“To sleep, Jaskier,” you said gently. He pouted, rolling his eyes.
“Less fun but I suppose…I could do with some rest as well.” You nodded, noting the bags under his eyes. You had been traveling for about a week, sleeping around the fire on the hard ground of the forest.
He didn’t even put up a fight for more drinks, he just followed you as you stumbled into the closest place to rest your head. You were pleased to find one close that took little money. One bed made things easier.
You walked into the room, resting your bag down on the bed. It was a rustic looking place, made out of wooden walls and wool bed comforters. Comfortable. Homey. It was what you needed.
“Well I-” Jaskier threw his things down on the bed as well and walked through the open doorway to the bathroom. “Am going to take a bath.” You raised an eyebrow, taking out some comfier clothes from your bag. You grabbed some for Jaskier too, walking into the bathroom where he was already running a bath. He was sitting on the edge of the circle tub, his eyes on you. “Are you going to join me?”
“How could I say no to that face?” You booped his nose and he scrunched it, grabbing your hand. “Get in the bath and I’ll join you after I’ve settled in.”
===
You sat in the bath, your back against Jaskiers chest. The water level was just above your breasts. It was warm, not too warm where you got sweaty, just warm enough to ease your aching bones. Jaskier was playing with the water and your skin, his lips against your hair.
“Have I mentioned just how much I adore you?” he whispered. “Because I do. Rather a lot. More than I should,” he concluded. You giggled, grabbing his hand and kissing it, the suds of the water leaving their mark on your lips.
“Once or twice.” You sunk a little lower so you could lean your head back. The water rose to your cheeks and Jaskier looked down at you, that playful smile on his face. “I adore you and the fact you haven’t lost your humor,” you whispered, squinting.
“I wasn’t even being funny just then, I was being honest!”
“I like to think you’re always being funny,” you told him softly.
Moments like this felt so rare. Two people, utterly in love, able to sit with each other and just giggle about their adoration. Who could say they had it like you did?
“Sit up. I want to wash your hair.” You squinted, sitting up. You were going to turn to face him but he faced your shoulders away from him so that he could play with your hair. You brought your knees up, resting your chin on them. He started to scrub away the dirt and grime of the adventure and you let him. You closed your eyes, soaking in the water and the moment. “Am I good with my hands?”
“You had to ruin it didn’t you.”
He chuckled, shaking his head.
====
After the bath the two of you settled into bed for the night. The room was dark, now scarce of candles. You faced each other, his hand on your cheek. He was still breathing heavily from the post bath activities but was starting to settle in for the night.
“Come here.”
You moved towards him and rested your head on his chest. He played with the ends of your still damp hair. You nuzzled into his chest.
He started to sing, quietly. Something you had never heard before. You were always blessed with hearing his new songs first. The scorching burns of Geralt tended to be your favorite but this one was quiet, perhaps a love song. You smiled, tracing things into his chest. He rubbed your shoulders and held you close to him, scared you may slip away from him in the night.
You fell asleep to the rumble of his song, thankful for the vocal talent your boyfriend had.
Summary:
Jaskier and Y/N get trapped in a cell together. Jaskier manages to slip out a odd confession towards his friend.
Writing Prompt: "God, you're adorable."
Fandom: The Witcher (Netflix)
Word: 400+(Ficlet)
Tags: Fluff
Author Note: I originally wrote this as an OC x Jaskier Fic, but felt like people wouldn’t be interested in my characters interacting with their faves so I change all mentions of my OC to Y/N.
Ko-Fi + Podfics & Social links
It was a drab, cold cell that both Jaskier and Y/n found themselves inside. Y/n got to work as they scanned every corner and crevasse of their cell for anything that could aid their escape. In the process, Y/n tried their best to avoid any eye contact with Jaskier.
Y/n traced their hands over the wall looking in between the cracks as they heard Jaskier question, "What are you searching for?”
Y/n didn't reply.
"Y/N?"
"You know, you didn't have to get locked up as well. They were only after me,” Y/n didn't turn to face him, but Jaskier could tell that his friend didn't like the idea of him being locked up as well.
"Well, that wouldn't have been very noble of me, would it?" Jaskier said in an attempt to get his friend to crack a smile. He stared at his friend's back as they kept at what they are doing, and remembers what they both have gone through and continues with a softer tone, "I wasn't going to abandon you."
There was a short pause in Y/n's actions, before they carried on with their task, "That attitude of yours will get you into trouble, Jaskier."
"Well, nothing I can't handle."
Y/N paused once more and dug out something from the wall that Jaskier couldn't see. As they brought out whatever it was and inspected it, Jaskier swore he heard Y/N cheer excitedly under their breath, and he couldn't help but smile at his friend's odd antics.
Jaskier sat beside the door, as Y/n tried their hand on the lock. They were in full focus on this lock, their brows were netted together, and they bit their lip in deep concentration as they glared this lock down. It was a sight onto itself, so you couldn't blame Jaskier for his slip up, "Gods, you're adorable when you work.”
They paused, blinked wildly, shook their head as if they're trying to get something out of their ear before they turned to Jaskier whose mouth is ajar, and face having a red ting to it, "Excuse me, what?"
"I- ah," Y/n has seen Jaisker embarrassed before, but they just never knew that they would ever be on the other end of it.
"Jaskier, did you just call me cute?"
"Adorable, actually," He was quick to correct, "but eh.... yes?"
"O-oh," they replied with wide eyes, and voice going up in pitch.
"Is that alright?"
"Yeah, totally," They barely got it out. They took a glance at Jaskier before they went back to their task, "I'll just get back to you on that one…"
Y/N carried with their task, their focus slightly faltered, and Jaskier he swore he saw a small smile on their lips and a bit of red on on their face peek through.
Summary: Jaskier writes a lot of songs, but what about a song about his lover?
Characters: Jaskier x Reader
Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name
Warnings: None, just fluff
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Sipping at my drink, I watched my love strut around the room as he sang, entrancing anyone listening. He was basking in the attention, pouring his heart into his new song. I remember how fiercely and quickly he had written it, as if it were already a song he knew. It didn't matter how many times he performed it, he put the same amount of passion in it every time.
The crowds cheered as he quickly strummed his guitar, dramatically ending the song. I too clapped, but my smile faded as he began thanking everyone, I was clouded by my own thoughts. All these songs he had written and sang, all about his adventures or particular characters he met on his journeys, but none about love. None about his love for me.
Was that vain? Was I being narcissistic in thinking that I should have a whole song written about me? Of course it was something to swoon over, anyone would want that. It only occurred to me in that moment as I gazed at him, thinking about how much I actually loved him that it came across my mind.
"A good crowd tonight." Jaskier breathed out before taking a swig of his drink.
He sat opposite me, setting down his instrument. He was happy with his gig, and I didn't want to ruin that for him. But this question was burning at the forefront of my mind now.
"Yes, you sounded beautiful again." I said, meaning to sound joyful though even I noticed my demeanour was off.
His face showed concern."What's wrong? You don't seem yourself."
"It's stupid really. Don't worry about it, it's nothing serious." I wanted to back out.
"No, no, you can tell me. This is how this all works."
I hesitated, and he reached out to hold my hand. No, that just made me feel worse.
"Just say it. Whatever it is, I'm sure we can sort it."
"Why haven't you written a song about me?"
Jaskier was surpsied by that question. It took a few seconds for him to process it before he open and closed his mouth a few times, trying to think of something to say.
"Uh...honestly my love, I do not know."
"Oh."
"It is not because I don't love you! There is no doubt in my mind that you are the one for me. But..."
"But?"
"When it comes to writing songs, I need to be passionate about the topic-"
"You feel no passion with me?"
"No!" both his hands were now holding mine, gripping onto them as if I was about to run away."No, I...Look, let me explain and don't interrupt, OK?"
I slowly nodded, dreading what might cine out of his mouth. Jaskier was a fantastic lyricist, but somehow when he spoke, it all came out wrong.
"So, when I have written songs in the past...most of them being about person I have met on my journeys, they've been easy to write. Because, I don't have to think about the repurcussions that come with that song, it doesn't matter how I describe them because it is my story. And of course, my songs also include stories, so they too are easy to write but I have a beginning, middle and end. But you...it's incredibly difficult to write a song good enough to describe my love and adoration for you."
I was left speechless. Perhaps he was not so bad at speaking after all.
"I've tried many times (Y/N). I've had sleepless nights trying to write a song worthy of you. Nothing I write will ever live up to the true you. It's almost as if I have so much to say about you, I could talk about you for eons yet it still wouldn't be enough to express how I feel about you, or how amazing you are."
"Jaskier, I...I don't think such beautiful words have escaped your lips before."
He held such intense eye contact."I love you, I truly do love you (Y/N). And I'm sorry that I hurt your feelings by not writing a song about you."
"I hoped it wouldn't make you mad."
"Why would I be mad?" he stood, rounding the table to slide into the booth next to me.
"Because I didn't want to sound demanding. Having a song written about you is an honour for most people. And I also didn't want you to feel forced to write about me, I know your craftsmanship is important to you."
"I only didn't write a song because I felt that none of my attempts were good enough."
"So you have tried before? How many times?"
"Oh, not that many. Five, ten, maybe fifty, or, you know, probably over hundred times."
"Oh Jaskier, I never knew."
"Of course you didn't, I didn't want you knowing. The whole point of the song was to be a surprise. I would serenade you, and you would be delighted and in awe, then we would run upstairs and make passionate love, so I would play the song again and-"
I laughed."I understand Jaskier."
He was smiling, but not in a cheeky way, this was a genuine, loving smile."I will complete your song one day."
A siren. And if it was your will to serenade poor Jaskier to an early, watery grave then he had no plans to stop you.
You were a choir and an orchestra all wrapped up beneath the guise of a single woman. You sang acapella but there was not a soul in this tavern who didn't hear strings and percussion.
Jaskier inched forward, body sprawled across the table in the back of the tavern. In all his years the bard had never heard such glorious music.
When your performance ended, grown men wept and the people cried for more and more. Even the White Wolf himself had no choice but to applaud, his jaw dropped.
You swept into a back room, the train of your white shimmering gown hissing against the ale-stained wood floor.
Jaskier dashed himself to his knees. "Geralt--"
"No. Get up."
"You don't even know what I'm going to say."
"We're not bringing her with us. Get up you're making a scene."
"Geralt, please. Didn't you hear her?!"
"Yes and she's a hell of a lot better than you. Get. Up."
Jaskier frowned but didn't argue. "You don't understand, Geralt. In denying me this you stand not in the way of your very best friend and his one true love but in the path of destiny itself and I demand that you remove yourself! This is my future wife we speak of."
The Witcher grimaced at his friend. "You don't even know her! Who's to say that she would even want to come with us?"
Jaskier held up a finger, getting to his feet and sliding back into his chair, much to Geralt's relief. "I'll make you a deal. We'll be in town for another three days or so. Give me these three days to woo the lady and if she agrees to come with us after these next three days, you'll allow her to accompany us."
Geralt smirked. "Fine, bard."
"Really?"
"Yeah because there is no way a woman like that would want anything to do with a man like you. Especially after she hears you sing."
REQUESTED! | REQUESTS: OPEN | REBLOG DON’T REPOST | GIF?
Am I reposting this? Yes. The last one had over 300 notes -- and, without any exaggeration, most of them were from bots I had to then block. Starting anew with this one, hopefully with less trouble.
Characters: Bruce Wayne, Victor Stone, Modern!Jaskier
Bruce Wayne
The subject of moving in together with Bruce had been a rather quiet affair to say the least. The average outsider probably would’ve expected something more akin to a whirlwind romance when it came to the personal life of one of the richest men in the world. This was especially given that Bruce Wayne wasn’t particularly known for having long-term relationships. So surely it was a sign when your relationship with the man persisted beyond the year mark, right?
Well, the fact of the matter was that there was no whirlwind. There wasn’t a mock proposal or even an invitation over a glass of centuries-old bourbon. And even though there had been gentle insinuations from your boyfriend that perhaps moving in might be beneficial for you, there arguably wasn’t even much of that!
Bruce never wanted to pressure you, wanting to give you all the time you needed. This wasn’t a normal relationship, after all: When you weren’t dating a billionaire, you were dating the legendary Batman. In addition to that, he also lived on the outskirts of town. The benefits of this to him were precisely that, though: They were beneficial for his specific needs. But for anyone who wasn’t him, there might be some hesitancy. And for that, he couldn’t blame them.
So your apartment remained in the picture for quite a while. But after some point, that changed. After some point, you just didn’t really go back there. Not for lack of trying, per se, but … well, it was more like a lack of interest. The little abode would always be “your place”, a little hideaway of sorts at the end of the day – almost like the modern equivalent of those Victorian era members of nobility or high-standing lineage who had summer homes on standby. Only in this case, it was more like your fabulously wealthy boyfriend was throwing a couple bucks down on the lease to keep it under your name.
But even then, when you thought about it, you weren’t entirely certain as to how necessary that even was nowadays.
Your life had shifted. It adapted.
It adapted to dating a wealthy person; it adapted to dating a nocturnal vigilante; it adapted to the odd lifestyle that still managed to squeeze itself in-between the two, creating those moments of domesticity that not everyone would’ve expected of Bruce Wayne, with or without the alter ego.
Because in your humble yet overpriced apartment, there wasn’t any waking up to the sound of Bruce showering. At your apartment, breakfast was usually whatever cheap item you’d grabbed at the convenience store, rather than an invitation to brunch or a homecooked meal, courtesy of Alfred. For that matter, at your apartment, there wasn’t any Alfred to trade banter with. There wasn’t any minimalism to gripe about and try and cover up with your “personal touch”. There weren’t large button-down shirts and slacks with timeless stitching and designs to sort through in the laundry. There wasn’t a Bruce to wait up at night for and greet upon his return, all bleary-eyed and cloaked in a comforter.
Or the smell of Bruce’ aftershave wafting in the morning air, or his favorite mug perched on the countertop, or the warmth of waking up in Bruce’s protective hold …
They couldn’t have been at the apartment; all of that was here. This was your home now. This was your life now.
Victor Stone
According to statistics, moving is one of the most stressful events in a person’s life. But Victor had grown up in that Downtown Gotham apartment: He knew every nook and cranny, every scuffed and creaky floorboard or cabinet, how to work the renovated shower, which spots had better phone reception, et cetera. At the end of the day, the bones were still there.
The spirit, however, was not.
And that’s what made simply being there feel just as though the young man were now living in an entirely new house.
Before, a family had been there. A shaky one, perhaps, but a family nonetheless. But now it was just him. Him, his memories, and the many reminders that decorated its walls, rested in closets, remained scattered on dressers and bathroom counters in the same position they had assumed the day they had been tossed there.
That alone was enough cause for stress. But adding on to the list of changes was the fact that before all of that had even happened, he had assumed a powerful, mechanized body. One which, after said changes, had been used to thwart an apocalyptic takeover. So yeah: Suffice to say, Victor’s inner life and “home life” (if it could even be called that) were at odds when the dust finally began to settle.
Inside, Victor was a whirlwind of emotions. There was the grief that he sometimes did and sometimes didn’t know how well he was handling; there were questions of where to go from hereon out; there were the moments that occurred in-between his new life as a part-time hero; there was you, his supportive but nonetheless surely exhausted partner … All the while, the apartment felt comparatively empty.
Quiet. Foreign. Cold. Unwelcoming.
Even though the walls and hall tables were lined with pictures of him pre-accident, Victor felt like he was a stranger in his own “home”. And even though he wasn’t exactly fond of being looked at (seriously, this was Gotham City, home to a mafioso juggalo and a lady obsessed with cats, what made him so strange?), Victor preferred to wander the streets than to stay in that place for too long.
It worried you.
Victor could take care of himself, of course, and it wasn’t as though he needed to sleep anymore, anyway. In a way, the purposes for which the average person required a structural home were practically obsolete to someone like Victor. It was his humanity that assured that the strained ties to it hadn’t yet severed.
But the unhealthiness seeped through like a gas leak. And for as caring as your boyfriend was, sharing his emotions or sentimentality had never exactly been his strongest suit, just as direct confrontation wasn’t especially yours. Besides, there was no easy approach to such a very specific, very tender circumstance. So for all you could do, you simply did what you could.
Really, the main reason he’d granted you a spare key in the first place was in the event that he needed to go out of town for a mission: You’d simply check on the place, make sure nobody was doing anything shady in or around, etc. He even once joked about buying a plant for you to plantsit despite his own lack of personal interest. But he never objected to you doing more with the key, or showing up even with him still being in town.
Sure, Victor might come home to find the place freshened up, the tables and picture frames dusted, a Glade plug-in restored, and so on. But he also could sometimes come to find other things.
He might’ve raised a brow when he took note of you plopping a duffel bag of clothes on the living room carpet, but he didn’t question it; he didn’t feel the need to. Nor did Victor question why he would come home to find you watching movies, huddled up in one of his old Gotham U jerseys. He didn’t give you an exasperated sigh whenever you’d stop by, sheepishly asking him for help studying for a course, and he didn’t usher you out whenever the desire to wander the streets hit him.
The cabinets had been cleared out when it became apparent that Victor no longer needed to eat. But with you around, they slowly became a bit more full with your favorite snacks and ingredients. Nothing like they had been before the accident, of course, but the difference was there. Soaps and shampoos and conditioners lined the bathroom once more, towels joined in the laundry for the first time in ages, dishes were being used yet again. It was as if life within the apartment had been restored. Something in there was alive.
In hindsight, Victor felt silly for not having noted it when it first started to happen. But then again, in the hindsight of that realization, it began to make more sense: Your presence there just felt … normal. Like you were supposed to be there. Sure, your face wasn’t captured in framed photos depicting family vacations or trips to the zoo, but you fit into the abode just as anything else from before had.
Which was why one morning, after spending the entire night wandering the city, Victor didn’t find it strange to return home and find you there. The suns rays were just stretching into the dimly-lit kitchen, where you had been making waffles from scratch. The sink was full of messy bowls and utensils, of which he could trust that you’d handle later. Meanwhile, you were perched at the counter, offering him the best smile one could give while drowsy and with waffles in the cheeks.
Despite everything that had happened to him over the course of the last few years, it still occasionally startled Victor to realize just how much could shift in less than a minute. The accident had happened in less than a minute; his body’s reform, despite feeling like an agonizing eternity, had occurred just short of a minute; the reversing of time seemed to be a matter of mere seconds from his end.
And despite having not been back for even a minute, that was the moment it clicked with Victor: For the first time in a long while, he was beginning to feel like he had arrived back home. Maybe not completely and truly immersed by it, no.
But at least his foot was toeing the threshold.
Modern!Jaskier
It wasn’t a sprawling mansion, that was for sure. It wasn’t even some sweetass, chic condo. Those, you told him, could wait. In the meantime, rather than splurging his steadily growing income as an up-and-coming musician, a nice, simple apartment would be more than enough to make do.
He pouted about it, of course: In spite of how he acted, Jaskier still came from wealth and although he didn’t miss the formalities and expectations that had accompanied it, he still missed the more pleasurable features like large rooms and fanciful foods. More importantly, he wanted to share the niceties with you. (Though, given what you knew of your boyfriend, it was probably a bit more accurate to phrase it as “he wanted to show it off to you”.)
Now, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t see the appeal in living in a more spacious house – hell, living in a place that wasn’t rented! The freedom to paint the walls and make renovations as you deemed appropriate, not needing to worry about a security deposit … You wouldn’t say that you drooled over images from Pinterest depicting craft rooms and guestroom setups or even roomy bathrooms, but it would’ve been rather nice if standing in the kitchen didn’t put you at risk of hearing somebody blowing up the nearby bathroom.
However, you were also the more grounded between the two of you. More practical. Jaskier preferred to drone that you a fun-sucker, but you knew you were in the right: If he didn’t want to end up washed up and bankrupt by his 30s like countless other musicians, then delayed gratification was the way to go!
He dragged his heels about it, the drama queen, all too ready to make a big stink out of it. He sang about it, even, spending the first three weeks after moving in sitting on the futon (your order from IKEA hadn’t come in yet) and plucking the strings alongside musical complaints about how tiny and ridiculous the place was.
It’s annoying, of course, and you won’t lie: Even if he means it in good fun, it frustrates you. You both agreed that until things really began to pick up, this was how things would have to be. You needed a place both of you could afford and as shitty as this place was compared to the subdivision he’d grown up in, this was it.
… But of course, the annoyance doesn’t really last for long. Jaskier wears his heart on his sleeve, after all, and he’s never been particularly good at hiding intrigue. Beneath all that whining, you can tell that, in some way, he’s also having fun.
The wifi that is inconsistent with how wack it is; the questionable wifi domain names (seriously, you kinda want to meet whoever calls their wifi PrettyFly4AWifi or Tiffany’s Slut Dungeon); your loudass neighbors who get way too intense on game night; questioning if there’s such a thing as depending too heavily on breakfast-for-dinner; zhoozhing up ramen cups with hotdog wieners or hot sauce; that funky water pressure – they all make it into that song of his that he’s always singing. And others. He tells you it’s a concept album and while part of you thinks he’s joking, the amount of times you’ve returned home or walked in on him scribbling lyrics or testing them out tells you that he isn’t.
It’s kinda just what he does: Yeah, he’ll whine for a bit, but somehow he’s going to make an adventure out of his circumstances. He has to. After all, what could be more adventurous than starting a new chapter of one’s life? Not only that, but a chapter with somebody they love?
Together, you’ll conquer the vicious staircases when the elevator is acting slow. You’ll fight to claim use of an empty washer and dryer in the laundry room. You’ll triumph in perfecting not only your grocery budget, but also in actually using those items to cook instead of relying on delivery so damn much. You’ll figure this and more out together.
And frankly … Yeah, it does make the place feel a bit more cozy. (But the moment the chance to move on up happens, you’re fucking taking it –)
