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#full hormonal himself - maybe he even thought Geralt knew
spielzeugkaiser · 2 years
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there are currently two wolves inside me, one that wants geralt to meet omega!jaskier's and his child while the kid is still young so they'll have both their parents (plus 1 mom if yennefer doesn't resent jaskier) as they grow and another who wants to stick to the show's canon of geralt and jaskier not seeing eachother for 22 years and then one day geralt finds this person with a scary ressemblance to him who says they need help rescuing their dad, a bard who doesn't know when to shut up (besides would be kinda funny to see geralt's reaction to jaskier being basically a dilf lol)
[First Part]
Oh my God in my mind it was the baby version but this also has me at the throat.
There would be a few things at play here like
1. I imagined the baby did not inherit mutant traits (besides some gold specs in his eyes, like, Jaskier had confirmation and once you know it's obvious) and you could hold Geralt at gunpoint he does NOT know how he looked as child anymore. It's absolutely not obvious to him, especially since it's impossible in his head. Only Vesemir would probably go 'oh' at the resemblance because the kid looks exactly like the little one he picked up on the side of a road, over a century ago.
2. Jaskier didn't say something for the last 13/14/15 years of his life, the kid will not go and tell Geralt when his Papa went out of his way to keep this knowledge secret.
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In my mind this has the perfect road trip vibes. And timelines are messy - like Jaskier went down the mountain pregnant it's not 22 years later but who knows what happened inbetween - but Geralt definitely already had all the teenage angst experience with Ciri. He's already a dad!
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mslanna · 4 years
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This Is The Best Day Ever
I started a modern day Witcher AU and I don’t think it’ll go anywhere. So have a start if you like. Jaskier has an emo punk band and Ciri drags her dad along as chaperone to see them...
"Dad!" Cirilla wailed in indignation. "I am almost fourteen! I can go to a concert on my own."
"Over my dead body." Geralt crossed his arms. The he looked his wife. Yennefer's grin said clearly that she would not be the one accompanying Ciri.
"Alright. I'll get us tickets."
"You will only embarrass me," Ciri objected.
"He won't," Yennefer assured her. "Your dad is too tall to stand in the first row with you. So he will be a good boy and keep at the side."
"Are you sure?" Ciri was not convinced.
"Or we all just stay at home," Geralt offered.
"No." Ciri decided instantaneously. "Oh my god, I don't know what to wear! I need to call Dara right now."
Geralt watched his daughter rush from the room, hand already groping for her mobile. "I hope you know what you are doing," he said to his wife.
"Of course I am." Yennefer smiled and kissed him on the cheek. "After all it is not I who is going to an emo punk concert with our daughter."
Geralt grunted. She had him there.
                                        *            *                *
Looking over the crowd streaming into the venue, Geralt was regretting his decision already. There was way too much black for a crowd that age and way to few parents. As soon as he had made sure Cirilla know hoe to signal to him to get her out of the crowd, the girl had run off. Now and then he could see her blonde curls bopping up in the crowd trying to squeeze three hundred people into the first row.
Had he known what kind of music Buttercups, Almost Dandelions made, he would have taken steps to ensure Cirilla did not get into that. Now he and Yennefer had to put a foot down to keep her from dyeing her hair black.
There was nowhere to get a drink and nowhere to sit down either. Grumbling Geralt stood at the side of the hall, leaning against the bare wall. The noise wasn't as bad as expected. The supporting act was doing okay taking into consideration that the whole hall was full of people who had come to see somebody else entirely.
The moment the lights went out in anticipation of the main act, the noise did turn out unbearable. No more concerts without era plugs, Geralt decided. He would have to think of a way Ciri could not remove them though. He grunted.  Something to occupy his mind with for the next hour.
If one could think over this noise that was. A single spotlight had come up, raising the pitch of the screaming at least one octave.
Then a sliver of a person stepped into the light and caused the noise-death of the universe. It was probably Mr Buttercup himself. Again, Geralt would have expected a little more yellow on the guy. With his elaborate outfit, he would have been at home on any gothic ren fair. Dark hair hung into his eyes, black outlined the eyes heavily.
The general screaming slowly converged into a coherent chant of 'Jaskier'. The man on the stage smiled slightly and stummed a minor chord. The hall fell silent in a heart beat.
"Hello," Jaskier smiled into the microphone, lips almost touching the metal. His hand came up from the guitar, cupping the microphone with the plectrum between his index finger and thumb. "How are you feeling tonight?"
It was an invitation for the maelstrom of noise to return. Geralt prodded his right ear, trying to hold on to a shred of his sense of hearing. He needn't have bothered. A lazy chord later the stage lit up with more spot lights, revealing the remainder of the bouquet and the music started for real.
If you wanted to call it music. If you could actually discern any of it from the tapestry of screaming it was fighting against. Geralt hoped Cirilla had better acoustics in the front row with fewer screaming teenagers between her and the band. He doubted it.
Jaskier knew how to handle a crowd though. Even if it was a crowd of hormone-addled teenagers. The singer managed to quite them all down for a slow number about lonely white wolves. Quite a feat. Ignoring the occasional howl imitation.
Geralt could have done with a few more ballads. The hall was almost bearably noisy and Jaskier actually had an agreeable singing voice. He was admittedly difficult to hear above the roaring crowd.
Geralt wondered how Ciri was doing in the squash zone. But so far she hadn't signalled for extraction. She was probably so high on hormones that reality would take a day or two to get back through to her. Such was life. Adolescence happened only once. Something to be grateful for, no doubt.
The concert dragged on. Geralt did his best to no peer at his watch. He certainly didn't stop tapping the beat guiltily with a foot. Taking the overall youth music scene into consideration, this could have gone a lot worse.
The last song came on. Geralt applauded because it was finally over. The audience disagreed vocally. Waves of noise broke against the stage, taking bodies with it. Medics kept pulling people from the crowd. The lights did not go on. With a sigh Geralt resigned to the encore. And the second encore which led to the crowd howling the song about the wolf again and which got them a third encore.
Geralt peered at his watch after all and had to realise he hadn't lost as much time of his life as he had thought. The crowd was bouncing in unison, accelerating towards a shattering crescendo. He didn't wait for that when a familiar figure was lifted over the heads of the fans, drifting towards the medics. Long blonde locks trailed behind her.
Getting to the front of the hall, even at the very side was difficult. Small bodies blocked the way and there was no way to push them aside without risking serious damage. Cirilla was carried away to the other side of the stage, too. Cursing, Geralt reversed direction. He was just getting to where he had been on the other side of the hall, when the lights did come on. That did not actually convince the audience to scatter appropriately or make his way towards the stage any easier.
By the time he reached the barricade, all medical personnel had vanished. Reaching out, Geralt grabbed the next stage hand passing by. "Where are the children?"
The stage hand understood without needing further encouragement. He pointed to a door a little further down the hall. But when Geralt started to move in that direction, he did try to stop him. "You can't go backstage," he said valiantly.
"Yeah?" Geralt tilted his head. "Watch me."
To the horror of everybody watching, he climbed over the barricade, storming off to the indicated. A security man approaching him was grabbed by the arm. "Good," Geralt growled. "You know the way to medical. I want my daughter. Now."
After a few turns, Geralt suspected that this was not the way to the medical part at all. Shoving the security guard away with a frustrated grunt, he stormed back down the corridor. Signs would have been helpful. Maybe they had been taken down again already.
Judging from the steps speeding up behind him, the security guard had decided to take up pursuit. Geralt stepped it up a notch, turning around a few corners in the hopes of finally finding the medic and maybe losing the tail.
A door opened and another small black figure stepped into his path. Geralt pushed it away. At least he tried to, only to find his hand taken hold off, trapped neatly on the chest it had pushed against.
"Now if that isn't my song come to life," Jaskier said agreeably. He waved the guard away lazily giving Geralt a second once-over.
Geralt snorted. "Where is my daughter?"
"I have not taken on any daughters," the singer replied easily. "But when we find her, I might be open to a few grateful words."
"Useless," Geralt growled, barely keeping from rolling his eyes.
"Says the man with a hammer to the screw," Jaskier said.
"What do you want?"
"I?" The singer laughed. "It was you who barraged into my place, laying hand on me. Let's get that correct for starters."
"I am only looking for my daughter." Geralt freed his hand.
"And if you stopped your boorish behaviour for just long enough to let me take the lead, I am certain we would have arrived where the medics put up care long ago." Jaskier began to walk slowly, giving Geralt time to make up his mind. "You realise there is a central information point in front of the hall where you can get escorted to you daughter if she's in medical care, right?"
Geralt grunted non-committal.
"Of course this is the much more scenic route," Jaskier kept the conversation going as if Geralt was actually participating. "You get to see me after all. A much more charming company than a medical escort."
Another snort.
"You are most eloquent. A pity that our journey shall soon come to an end. Allow me to write a song about it."
Geralt stopped short, forcing the smaller man to take a step back under the force of the index finger rammed into his chest. "Don't you dare." Taking a deep breath he stepped back. The only thing worthy of song way Cirilla and his wife. But he would certainly not encourage the obnoxious. fool.
"You're right." Jaskier puled at his black shirt. "I'd never get all those elaborate grunts right."
Geralt took another deep breath and forced a neutral expression. "I will now get-"
"Your daughter, yes yes," Jaskier interrupted. "She should be here any moment now. I had sent for her."
"You what?"
"It's my place for tonight." Jaskier winked. "Has to have a few perks."
At that very moment, light footfall became audible down the corridor and around a corner.
"Ciri?" Geralt called ignoring Jaskier who was still explaining something.
"Dad!" Cirilla bounded around the corner towards her father.
He softened visibly. Seeing his daughter well and happy brought a lenient expression to his face. The love for his Ciri was written over Geralt's face in warm, fuzzy letters of insurmountable size.
At his side, Jaskier fell silent.
In the corridor, Cirilla stopped in mid-step. "Dad?" Her eyes wandered from her father to the singer standing next to him, a whirlwind of emotions crossing over her whole figure.
"Well, the family resemblance is obviously," Jaskier squinted, "somewhere."
"Dad?" Cirilla asked, the question dripping from her gaze into her tone.
"Oh, that, yeah." Geralt shrugged. "He ran into me when I was looking for you. Can't shake him." Geralt chose to ignore the indignant gasp from Jaskier as well as the unbelieving one from his daughter.
"That is-" Ciri couldn't finish.
"Yeah. Oh, right." Geralt put on the barest minimum of manners. "Jaskier, this is my daughter Cirilla. Ciri, this, well Jaskier. Does he have a last name? Do you have a last name? Do we need that?"
"Pleased to meet you," Cirilla got out.
Jaskier took the offered hand with a bow indicating a kiss on the back of it. "I can see your father passed on all his eloquence and manners to you."
Ciri blushed and caught between the urge to hid behind her father and bravely stand where she was, clutched at his side. Geralt dropped a protective arm over her shoulders automatically.
"We must leave," he growled pointedly.
"Oh, there you are again with no manners at all." Jaskier huffed. "Tell you father that this is very bad manners indeed, Cirilla. We have only just met and there he goes leaving already. Is he always impossible like that? I bet he is."
Ciri nodded a teenagers awareness of their parent's inherent cringyness on her expression.
"Her mother is waiting for us."
"Oh and now he is blaming it all on you mother." Jaskier lowered his tone consiprationally. "Does your mother know he does that?"
Ciri giggled and nodded.
"Well, that's probably okay then. And we will not leave her waiting. You go to the entrance," he waved in the general direction behind him, "and I'll be there in a moment. Decide on the take-out you want."
"We will certainly not have take-out for dinner or with you." Geralt put his foot down. It helped that he did not see Ciri's face.
"Rude," Jaskier replied.
Ciri nodded and took a brave step away from her father. "But he did buy me a guitar," she finally said, after fishing for a redeeming trait.
"So you are playing the guitar?" Jaskier asked Cirilla. "We must have a jam session then!"
"It is half past ten," Geralt cut the idea off.
"True." Jaskier's shoulders slumped shortly before he brightened suspiciously. "We will have to do that another time then, won't we?"
It was most dirty manoeuvre Geralt had ever seen. But the way Ciri's eyes lit up at the mere thought of playing guitar with her musical hero. Who would have the heart to quench that light?
"Take out is still standing, though," the singer said taking Cirilla's hand. "What do you feel like and where do you get it in this city?" When they reached Geralt, Jaskier just took the tall man's hand as well and kept walking. "As I said, wait at the entrance, security is informed. What do you think about Italian?"
"Why not." Ciri looked up at her father.
Geralt was a walking storm cloud, held in check by nothing but his daughter's elation. "I do not think that will help with me being upset."
"Maybe it will do something about you being so depressing?" Jaskier took a step backwards, putting Cirilla's hand into that of her father. "I'll be only a moment."
A few steps later, Cirilla had found the joke and started laughing.
"I'll call Yen and give her a heads up," Geralt rumbled, knowing he was beaten.
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