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shrinkynatural · 4 years

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Finally, a bathing scene between the totally not tiny bard and his massive oak tree of a witcher.

And because I’m not great at giving individual thank yous, I’d like to give a big, all-encompassing thank you to everyone who’s read these and liked them and reblogged them.

The rest of this unnamed self-indulgent mess can be found here: (1) (2) (3) (4)

It has been nearly a whole damn month of nothing but shallow streams barely good enough for washing up in, and the river is the greatest blessing Jaskier could ask for in these circumstances. Clear water, a slight current but nothing that will carry him away, and Geralt-approved to not contain any drowners or other dangerous creatures that might want to eat an unsuspecting bard.

One finger hooks into the collar of his doublet, stopping Jaskier’s run to the river as effectively as a whole hand. Everyone knows he’s always a slut for dramatics so he lets it act as a yank and falls right back into Geralt’s bulk with a very startled yelp. “But Geralt, you said--!”

"Camp first, then we bathe." And because he thinks that he's in charge Geralt doesn't even wait for confirmation, he just slides his finger from Jaskier’s neck to his back (the bard doesn’t shiver, he doesn’t) and nudges him to stand on his own two feet. Then he moves away and takes Roach's reins to lead the mare back into the trees to find a decent area to set up camp.

Jaskier does follow after, but he makes sure that he states clearly just how cruel it is to offer him such a treat only to rip it away. "I feel I have an inch layer of road dust and sweat baked over me like a crust, Geralt!" He doesn't get any response which makes him think Geralt's rolling his eyes at him.

It is the fastest he’s ever helped set up the campsite, gathering wood and separating their bags after Geralt unloads Roach. Some of those bags are heavier than they look so after Jaskier nearly fell under one containing an assortment of witcher potions it was a task permanently assigned to said witcher who spent hours mixing them.

As soon as he drops off the last of the firewood Geralt waves a dismissive hand toward the river and Jaskier doesn't have to be told--gestured to?--twice. Lute and bag down, cloth and soap in hand, and he's practically running to the water's edge. He strips out of his clothes and sets them aside to wash them up later and then he wades in, shivering just a little. Jaskier dunks himself completely and then retreats a bit so that he can lather up his soap and finally be clean. Just the first swipe feels absolutely glorious and he starts humming a tune that turns into a jaunty song he washes himself in time to.

"You shouldn't sing in the river," Geralt says suddenly from behind him and Jaskier lets out a sincere yelp as he turns around. The Witcher is at the edge of the water and taking off his own clothes while regarding him with a raised eyebrow. "A siren will hear you and come take you away."

That shuts Jaskier up and he looks wide-eyed at the water around him. “But you said--!” When he turns back to Geralt he catches the smile before it's schooled away and his jaw drops. "You!" He waves his wash cloth at him with pure indignation. "Is that a joke? Are you trying to scare me off so you can have this whole river to yourself? Joke's on you, I'll gladly be carried off by a siren if it means I get to have regular baths. We'll sing lovely duets together." He sing-songs the last part, amused at the play at humor now that he isn't worried about river monsters coming after him.

Geralt snorts and sets his clothes besides Jaskier's before walking into the water. He goes downstream a few yards, which Jaskier appreciates because he just knows that some of that monster blood and guts don't come off completely from a quick scrub in a little stream. He's in up to his chest almost and Jaskier attempts to be a polite bathmate and not stare, but he can't help taking little peeks at what he can see. He's a young, healthy man with an active appreciation for the human form and Geralt is just...absolute perfection.

He finishes washing himself up and scrubs his hair one more time just because he can. With one of those illicit peeks he spies the bland-looking, non-perfumed brick of a thing that witchers apparently call soap clenched in Geralt’s hand. It’s offensive, really, what’s the point of finally being clean if you don’t smell nice after? The awful thing barely even lathers and the foam is half the fun!

Jaskier hums to himself and makes up his mind then and there. He’s clean and feeling so much better for it, the only thing that would make it better would be if the water were hot and he’d get to retire naked to a soft mattress with silken sheets. Since that’s not going to happen he decides he should at least get Geralt smelling sweet and fresh, too. As much as he enjoys curling up to the witcher on cold nights, he far too often ends up with his face closer to his sweaty armpit than he likes.

“Oh, Geralt!” he calls over to him and starts to wade through the water toward him. “That stuff isn’t doing you any favors at all, why don’t you try this? It’s something I picked up back in--oh shi--!”

Between one step and the next, the soil of the riverbed drops out from beneath his feet. It’s so unexpected that Jaskier goes right under and loses his grip on his soap and wash cloth as he flails around trying to figure out what the hell happened. His feet do touch bottom and he kicks himself up, breaking the surface of the water with a sputtering curse before he goes back under.

He does this twice more before there’s a log of an arm right in front of him and he wraps his arms around it and clings on for dear life. He spits and coughs and wastes entirely too much breath on cursing the unpredictable wilds. Jaskier shakes his head roughly and blinks water out of his sore eyes to squint up at Geralt, who is just standing there…in chest-deep water and of course, he’s a fucking idiot. Of course he’d be standing in a deeper part, the massive bastard.

“Don’t know how to swim?” Geralt asks, seemingly content to keep his arm out to keep the bard afloat. He does look concerned, at least Jaskier thinks he sees blurry wrinkles on blurry-Geralt’s forehead. “Are you all right, Jaskier?”

“Why would I know how to swim!” He shrieks it a little louder than he intended, but his pride is wounded and he lost his expensive soap and it’ll be months before they’re in a city here he can get another one. He just wanted to do something nice! “Now my soap is gone and I’m going to have to use that awful stuff you use and I’m going to smell like some..some..”

Geralt brings around his free hand and nestled up against the plain brick of soap in the middle of his broad palm is not only his little bar but also the cloth, which he offers to Jaskier. He isn’t even hiding his big, dumb smile now which means the look on Jaskier’s face must truly be priceless.

“You saved it,” Jaskier states, his brain doing backwards somersaults as it recovers from all this emotional whiplash. He makes no move to take it or let go of the arm that is his lifeline. “Oh. Thank you. Would you like to borrow it?” Now Geralt looks surprised, which makes him hasten to add, “It’s only that your soap is so boring, really, and I thought you might like to try it. I don’t mind, that’s why I was coming over to you but now of course it could be my thanks for you once again saving my life. That’s convenient, don’t you think?”

“It’s too strong,” is all Geralt says in reply as he slowly starts wading back to shore, Jaskier being carried along like a stick.

“Too strong?” Jaskier gasps, offended, and tries to twist himself so that Geralt can see and truly appreciate the look and see his wounded look.

The witcher doesn’t even look down. “Most monsters and creatures have a good sense of smell, why do you think I always try to leave you back at camp?”

His automatic response is to flail and he drops under the water for a brief moment before throwing his hands out to grasp Geralt’s arm again. “I do not stink!”

“It’s a nice stink, which is why it’s a poor choice for hunting. Are you going to stand up now or am I to drag you all the way back to shore?” Geralt has stopped walking, which Jaskier finally notices. And from his position floating on his back in the water he also notices that he is now about hip height with the witcher.

If the water were just a little lower…Jaskier shakes the thought from his mind before it can settle and he embarrasses himself even further. Still holding onto Geralt’s arm he pushes his legs down, feet pointed and toes searching until they finally settle in the dirt. He’s in up to his chest here and resists the urge to climb to safety up Geralt’s back; Jaskier knows he can’t get away with that too often and he doesn’t want to run out of chances so soon.

“Can I at least wash your hair?” he blurts out before he can change his mind. He can see Geralt tilting his head back to roll his eyes but he continues on anyway. “It’s just been so long since either of us have had a good bath and if my hair was awful then your gorgeous locks must be in a very sorry state. Your habit of ending up covered in blood and guts does you no favors. And it’s easier for someone else to get the back. Please? I’ll even use your awful soap.”

“How are you going to wash my hair?” Geralt asks in an exasperated tone, looking down at him. “I’m not putting you on my shoulders.”

Jaskier gives a relieved smile because that isn’t a no. He takes the lead now, keeping his grip on Geralt’s arm and leading them farther into the shallows. “You sit your precious bottom down and I wash, that’s how.”

It always surprises him when Geralt lets him drag him around, how for all his huffing and humming he lets Jaskier take him to where the water is shallow enough for him to sit and let him get a good look at that long white hair of his. This is the only time when he’s actually taller than the witcher and even now it’s just barely. The hair actually looks quite clean, if tangled, but Jaskier’s not going to say so and lose this opportunity.

Geralt holds out his hand with the soaps and cloth in it and Jaskier takes the plain brick and the cloth despite his temptation. He did promise and he can be patient and take his time when he really wants to. The cloth helps lather the soap and he works it all through Geralt’s hair, using his fingers to get through the thick locks down to the scalp. He doesn’t chatter on but he does hum to himself as he focuses on his task.

In this part of the river Jaskier is only submerged up to his thighs so every now and then he catches a chill as a breeze blows through. It’s not the most pleasant but that doesn’t stop him from carefully working out each and every tangle until his fingers run through Geralt’s hair from scalp to end perfectly every time. There’s just so much of it and he longs to brush it and braid it; it’s not fair that it’s always so far out of his reach.

“All right! I think I’ve got it all, go on and dunk your head.” Jaskier pulls his hands away and Geralt leans forward to put his head under the water and runs his hands through his hair to get all the soap out. Then he sits up quickly, whipping his hair back and splashing Jaskier with enough water to have him sputtering again. “Is that the thanks I get for doing something nice! I can’t believe you, Geralt, the sheer nerve.”

Geralt glances at him over his shoulder and the next thing Jaskier knows a hand is grabbing his ankle and all too easily yanking his foot out from under him so he falls under the water. When he surfaces he gives him such a glare that immediately softens at the witcher’s quiet “Thank you, Jaskier.”

“Fine, I forgive you.” He knows he’s also terribly easy when it comes to Geralt. Something about that eternally grumpy face makes it impossible to stay mad at him. “If you ever want to return the favor you’re more than welcome.”

That gets a huff of laughter as Geralt stands, handing over the little scented soap bar he’s still holding in one hand while he rests the other on top of Jaskier’s head. The massive palm curves easily over his crown and his fingers curl against his scalp in a way that makes Jaskier’s knees weak. “I would crush your skull if I attempted that.”

He takes his hand away and takes his own soap back before walking past Jaskier to the bank. The bard doesn’t know if he’s joking or not, but either way he’s damned if he isn’t going to do his best to get those thick fingers in his hair before the year’s out.

#jaskier #geralt of rivia #geraskier #jaskalt #g/t #minigiant #the witcher #rating: green

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fallinnflower · 6 years

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rewards

donghun x reader (non idol!au, fluff, slightly suggestive)

a/n: this was requested by @i-say-choco-you-say-ice-cream, i hope you like it!

When you got called into your boss’s office first thing on Monday morning, there are a few thoughts running rapidly through your head. You rush out of your cubicle, smoothing your hair down as you make your way to the impromptu meeting and planning to put on the waterworks if you need to. You knock on the door, and take a deep breath after your boss tells you to come in.

“You can do this,” you whisper, then plaster a smile on your face as you open the door.

“Good morning—“

All thoughts stop dead, because your boss isn’t alone. No, as if that wasn’t enough, you’re forced to watch as Donghun — former classmate, long-time coworker and longer-time crush — turns in the seat opposite your boss to meet your eyes. You continue to smile, bowing your head before entering the office and awkwardly taking the seat beside Donghun.

It was going to be a long meeting.

You were right, it was a long meeting, because mere minutes in your boss had leaned across the desk and told you you were going to be partnering with Donghun for a project that would be presented to the board of directors on Friday, and shortly thereafter you went into minor cardiac arrest. Donghun, of course, looked as cool and casual as ever, nodding, asking a few pertinent questions, while you sat with your hands clasped to hide the way they were shaking.

This project was significant, and all three of you in that room knew it. You’d never been on a project like this before, and you were terrified. The board of directors were notoriously hard to please, and you weren’t sure you had quite the same charm as Donghun.

Nonetheless, you thanked your boss as you both left the office, your heart still hammering away in your chest as your mind swam. Where were you even going to start with a project this big? It seemed—

“Y/N.” You jumped at the sound of your name and turned to Donghun.

“We should meet at my desk. I have some ideas from that meeting.” All you can do is nod and follow him to his cubicle; it’s the same one he’s had since you both started working here after college, just slightly too far from yours to make conversation easy. Maybe that’s why you fell out of touch.

He motions for you to take his chair, then leans over you to use his computer, trapping you in his arms. You feel your ears getting hot, turning red, and you stare intensely at his computer screen in a vain attempt to put Donghun’s closeness out of your head.

He pulls up the figures your boss had been talking about, then walks around to lean against his desk so that he can meet your eyes as you talk. Surprisingly, as time goes by in the conversation, you start to feel almost like you’re back in one of your college business courses rather than working on a high-stakes company project. You come away feeling lighter than you had all morning, and as you turn to leave Donghun’s cubicle for your own (with plans to meet at your cubicle tomorrow) you find yourself looking back.

“Donghun,” you say, and he turns in his chair slightly to face you. You smile,

“Thank you.” Donghun blinks at you for a moment, then abruptly turns his chair away.

“It’s nothing. See you tomorrow.” You feel a little stung at his curt reply, but you simply shake it off and continue back to your own desk.

You make it a point to arrive early the next morning, and Donghun joins you at your desk almost as soon as he arrives in the office.

“Finished your work?” He asks, and you nod. You had stayed a little late the night before, even, just to get done with the busy-work so you could buckle down on this presentation project. Donghun gives you something a little like a smile, then opens the manila folder he had brought with him,

“Let’s get started.”

The brainstorming session from the day before was slowly taking the form of an actual project, and you wee beginning to feel better in terms of direction. However, when Donghun suggested a separation of tasks, you couldn’t help but worry. However, you shook the thought from your mind. You were a competent, valued employee, and you weren’t going to let anyone down — least of all yourself.

Donghun left for his own desk, giving you a copy of the documents he had printed off, and you settled down to work.

You reached for your coffee for the umpteenth time, only to find that the mug was (still) empty. You frowned, disappointed, but refused to leave your work; you’d only just found a rhythm and had only taken a break to eat a granola bar you found in your desk drawer when one of your colleagues asked if you wanted to grab lunch (you declined). Checking the clock wasn’t high on your list of priorities, and you had your phone turned off to minimize distractions.

It wasn’t until Donghun showed up at your cubicle, jacket on and bag tucked under his arm, asking, “You’re still here?”, that you realized the time. You simply blinked up at him.

“I guess I am.” Donghun’s brows furrowed before he nodded at you.

“I’m heading out. I’ll see you tomorrow.” The smile on your face falls the moment he leaves, and you drop your forehead to your desk, feeling like an idiot. I guess I am.

Wednesday rolls around, and you bring the cheapest cup of ramen money can buy with you for lunch, as well as a whole thermos of coffee. You had stayed much, much later than intended the night before, and you feel buzzed on caffeine; your hands are definitely shaking.

Donghun doesn’t drop by at all, simply shoots you an email to ask about your progress.You’re too absorbed in your work to notice the concerned looks he throws your way from his cubicle. He hasn’t seen you this frazzled since your study sessions for your last final in your major program, one that he took with you and you both aced easily. The only difference is that now you have to dress professionally and you’re on payroll. He’s certain you (still) don’t notice how much he notices you, or the worry that creases his brow when he watches you cook ramen then leave it sitting on the edge of your desk for an hour and a half. (You still eat it, but he’s not sure you really acknowledge it.)

After that, Donghun forces himself to return to his own work, unwilling to fall behind your progress. He wants to have the opportunity of another partnership, if he can.

You both work overtime that night, but as Donghun goes to leave the office at 7pm he sees you sleeping at your desk, slumped forward with your hair spilling out of your bun and onto your keyboard. He has to stifle a laugh, because now you really look like your university self — just a little older, maybe even prettier (though he’s thought that for a long time). He takes your coat off the back of your chair and carefully drapes it over you before laughing and shaking his head.

“You should sleep in your bed, idiot,” he says, though he knows better than anyone how deep you sleep when you crash, and resists the urge to ruffle your hair and wake you up like he would have back then.

Instead, he closes the door a little louder than he should when he leaves, because he knows you’ll wake up soon.

You get in on time on Thursday with another thermos of coffee and a somewhat messy ponytail from the wind outside. You had woken up at the office not long after 7pm, and quickly rushed home once you realized you were alone. Just as you’ve sat down and taken a good, long drink of your coffee, Donghun appears and throws a box down on your desk. You don’t have time to question him about the Tupperware before he simply says,

“I made extra.” He turns and walks back to his desk, leaving you to look at the lunchbox in confusion and awe. When you lift the lid up part way, you can see an assortment of foods that certainly look more put-together than any leftovers you’ve ever seen. You suppress a smile, glancing over at Donghun where he’s working and noticing a bit of red at the tips of his ears; you can’t help but think that he hasn’t really changed much since college after all.

You wash his container after lunch and bring it to his desk, setting it down and smiling when he turns to you.

“Thanks,” you say. “Haven’t had a meal like that since senior year.” Donghun rolls his eyes and puts the box inside his satchel.

“Haven’t seen you asleep at your desk since then either,” he quips, and you gasp and push at his shoulder playfully.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“You get mean when you wake up.” You pout at him for a few moments before breaking out into a smile. You’ve missed this rapport; you wonder why you were so nervous to be around him at work when you two spent practically every day together in school for over a year. In retrospect, you’re sure it had something to do with professionalism and the anxiety that came with having your first real job, but now it just feels like a silly way to have behaved. You sigh and turn your head towards his screen.

“How’s work coming?” You ask, and Donghun shifts back into his more serious mode, sitting up straighter in his chair and clicking around until he finds what he wants.

“Honestly, with the way the numbers are playing out, I think convincing the board should be pretty easy.”

“Really?”

“Yeah—” He turns to you, and you find your faces much closer than you had bargained for, and quickly pushes his chair away as you straighten up, feeling your face turn red.

“Well. That’s good.”

“I should get back to work,” he says.

“Me too,” you reply, and you bow your head to him before walking away, nervously chewing at your bottom lip.

The project is finished and tested to satisfaction by the time you both leave the office that night. It does little to settle your nerves.

From the moment you get up Friday morning, you can’t seem to relax. All you can think about is the notoriously difficult board of directors you have to present in front of with Donghun in a matter of hours.

Donghun, of course, can tell that you’re nervous from the way you can’t seem to stay at your desk once you arrive. You frequently get up to go double and triple check the projector, or the presentation itself; to mess with your hair in the bathroom; to ask him if he’s feeling okay. As the time draws nearer, he finally can’t take it and drags you over to an empty meeting room.

“You need to calm down,” he says, and you visibly tense for a moment before sighing and collapsing into one of the chairs.

“Sorry,” you say, running a hand through your hair and looking down. “I’m a nervous wreck. I’m probably the last person you wanted to work on this with.”

“Are you joking?” He laughs, and you look up. “I’ve been wanting to work on another project with you since we both got a job here, Y/N. You’ve always been amazing with presentations.” You stare up at him for a moment, and Donghun sighs and rolls his eyes before suddenly leaning over your chair, pressing his palms against the edge of the table behind you and sufficiently pinning you in your seat, forcing you to look at him. He’s at your eye level now, and he smiles.

“And I’d like to work on more projects with you, in the future. So let’s do well, okay?” He says, and you nod. Once you do, his grin takes a slightly more twisted, teasing edge, and his gaze flicks down to your lips for a moment.

“Maybe you’ll get a reward afterwards, who knows.” You feel your face turning bright red before Donghun clears his throat and pulls away. You can see his ears turning red before he nods at you, obviously embarrassed,

“Let’s go.” You shoot up out of your seat to follow him.

“Hey, what did you mean by that?” You ask.

You don’t get an answer.

Or, rather, you do get an answer, but it isn’t until the board accepts your proposal and the two of you go out for dinner, first. You’d say you definitely get rewarded that night.

#donghun texts #a.c.e texts #a.c.e fanfiction #a.c.e writing #a.c.e scenarios #kpop scenarios #kpop fanfiction #kpop writing #kpop texts #kpop imagines #donghun imagines #my writing

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keentidalwavekryptonite-blog · 7 years

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