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write-ur-wrongs · 2 years

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No Time to Die

Request: Could I get maybe reader singing no time to die by Billie Eilish when they think they are alone? And Geralt is impressed with their voice, especially when they hit they high note during the climax?“

Word count: 2727 words _____________________________________________

“Bard! Give us a song!” the bearded man shouted while emphatically waving his tankard of ale, blissfully unaware that with each broad move more ale sloshed out and onto the inn’s already sticky floors. The room erupted in another drunken howl of enthusiasm, raucous voices fighting for the bard’s attention.

“Don’t be shy now, poet! Give us ‘Burn butcher’!” hollered the bearded man’s companion, banging his own tankard on their table.

Jaskier, who was leaning back in his chair and balancing on its back legs, was doing his best to wave off the requests with grace but found himself doing little more than egging them on.

“Jask, what the fuck! Give the people what they want,” you laughed into your drink, kicking the bard’s chair back down on all fours, “or else we might have to get Geralt out there to fend them off.”

“No, no, no,” Jaskier said, shaking his head lightly and speaking under his breath, “that’s, uh, not going to happen. How about a round of Toss a Coin?” he shouted to the room over his shoulder before muttering to himself, “or one of my hundreds of other songs maybe?”

The crowd was not to be denied though, and hollered their displeasure at the suggestion.

“Seriously Jaskier, what’s your problem?” you said, looking to Geralt for validation that your friend was being uncharacteristically shy, but he was avoiding your gaze too.

You leaned back in your chair and took a slow sip of your beer while you considered the two men across from you. Jaskier, who’d normally be parading around the pub like a king with this type of attention, was cowering under his hat and refusing to look at Geralt.

Geralt, whose lack of interest in the bard’s performances wasn’t unusual, was being especially statuesque. His jaw was clenched so tight it looked like he was going to bite right through his teeth and a bead of sweat lined his forehead.

You looked from one to another a couple times, taking in Jaskier’s deep blush and Geralt’s long face. But it wasn’t until the crowd at the bar started slurring lyrics that you finally put two and two together.

All those lonely miles that you ride Now you'll walk with no one by your side Did you ever even care With your swords and your stupid hair? Now watch me laugh as I burn all the memories of you

“Wait…” you gasped, leaning onto your elbows so that you could whisper-yell over to your friends, who seemed to be shrinking back into their seats the more the crowd sang. “Jaskier! Was this a breakup song? For him?!”

“Y/N…” Geralt begged, holding a hand over his face in shame.

“I can’t believe this? How have I never made this connection?” you rambled, laughing to yourself incredulously. “Wait, Jask – we sing this all the time, how is it only weird now? Fuck I sing this all the time. It’s catchy as hell.”

“Geralt’s not normally… here. When we sing this one.” Jaskier admitted, sucking on his teeth uncomfortably.

“I can’t believe this…” you mused, chewing thoughtfully on a piece of bread as you skimmed through your memories trying to figure out how you’d never caught onto this pattern, or how you’d managed to spend almost a year with the two of them without ever picking up on this dynamic. “Hang on, does this mean you broke his heart too?” you asked, giving Geralt a quick kick under the table so that he’d meet your gaze.

“Too?” Jaskier squawked, shrugging his sheepishness off as if it was a heavy fur coat. “You knew Geralt before we three met?”

“Yeah –”

“BARD! Give us a song PLEASE!” the bearded man interrupted with another shout from his table across the room.

“He’s coming!” Geralt roared uncomfortably, desperate to avoid this conversation.

“In a minute!” you shouted simultaneously, equally desperate for the opposite.

Either placated or humbled by your aggressive replies, the man and his group grumbled incoherently amongst themselves before starting up on a known shanty.

“As I was saying,” you started up again, switching seats so that you were sitting next to Jaskier. “I met Geralt a few years back. He was coming through my town on his way to take down a wraith that was terrorizing the nearby mine. I had a silver dagger and offered my help, he accepted, we got close, he stole my dagger, I went after him because it was a fucking heirloom, Geralt,” you paused to give the now cowering witcher a pointed look. “Anyways, to make a long story short, I assisted him in battle, we both sustained injuries but prevailed nonetheless.”

“You are both very proficient,” Jaskier interjected, thoroughly enjoying the way this turned into a shameless opportunity to dig on Geralt.

“Well, yes,” you agreed quickly with a sly smile. “Anyways, after the fight we fall asleep and swear we’d go back into town in the morning to collect the reward together, but I wake up in the mine’s ruins alone and without my grandmother’s silver dagger.” You punctuated the trip down memory lane with a tight close-lipped smile at Geralt who, to your great satisfaction, looked miserable beyond belief.

“Geralt, you son of a bitch!” Jaskier scoffed, tsking in mock contempt. “Once a heartbreaker, always a heartbreaker it seems. You abandon me on a mountain and leave poor Y/N in a mine?! The gall.”

“He’s a fucking ass,” you agreed, clinking your tankard with Jaskier’s before polishing off your drink, “and yet we stick with him.”

“Well, Y/N, he is handsome. And scary! That’s helpful.”

“So true, Jaskier,” you continued, revelling in Geralt’s well-deserved discomfort.

“Y/N, Jaskier, please,” Geralt begged, forcing himself to meet both your gazes, “I’ve said I’m sorry.”

“And we believe you, you old brute,” you assured him, weaving a softer tone into your teasing and reaching over the table to give his hand a squeeze, “but you’ve recruited two poets as companions, and pain is a powerful tool in the hands of an artist.”

“Two poets?” Jaskier asked with a hint of scandal, “Y/N, did you write a little something after Geralt broke your heart?”

“Tell you what, why don’t you get up there and entertain the masses, and maybe I’ll sing it for you later?” you said, shaking your head at his excitement.

“A song? Ohh-ohoho! That better be a promise!” he said with a flourish, grabbing his lute from the back of his chair. He shot you a quick wink and waggled his eyebrows at Geralt before roaring the crowd back up in time for another round of Burn Butcher.

You watched Jaskier saunter off into his adoring crowd fondly before turning your gaze back onto poor Geralt. One look at his hunched frame and his pitiful scowl and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Buck up, sweets,” you teasingly cooed, giving his leg another light kick under the table. “It’s seriously okay, all is forgiven.”

In response, Geralt only leaned forward onto his elbows and fixed you with the biggest, most painfully sincere puppy eyes.

“Ger, stop!” you moaned, rolling your eyes.

“Y/N,” he cringed, visibly wincing, “I hate when you call me that.”

“I know, that’s what makes it fun.”

Groaning loudly with an eyeroll of his own, it was Geralt’s turn to kick you under the table. He shot you an exasperated look before allowing it to melt comfortably into a fond smile.

“There he is,” you beamed, giving his forearm an affectionate squeeze before getting up to grab your empty mugs. “I’ll get us a refill, looks like Jaskier is going to be held up for a while.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” he said, giving your elbow a pinch as you stood to walk away, “seriously, thank you.”

“Alright, keep your sword sheathed.”

“Fucking hell, you’re worse than the bard,” he laughed dryly, throwing his head back.

“Ha!” you barked, walking backwards toward the bar so you could hold his eyes for a moment longer, shooting him a wink of your own and laughing victoriously as he gave you a bemused smile.

At the bar, you took a few moments to watch Jaskier as he dazzled the crowd, sneaking quick glances over your shoulder to look back at Geralt. Sometimes, you found it hard to believe that your little trio worked. Two foolish optimists and the man who broke their hearts; you couldn’t paint a more ridiculous picture. Yet you couldn’t help but feel protective over the bard and, inexplicably, over the witcher too.

Yeah, he fucked you up, but he did come back. And he’s since stayed.

You thanked the bartender warmly after they pulled you from your reverie, setting three empty mugs and a full pitcher before you. You placed the necessary coin on the counter and started the delicate balancing act of carrying everything back to your table. However, before you could even lift anything off the sticky counter, you felt Geralt’s arms snake past you to grab the pitcher and mugs out from under you.

“You didn’t really think I’d let you carry all this yourself, did you?” he said, his breath ghosting over your shoulder as he maneuvered the crowded bar around you.

“A hero among us,” you sighed in a dramatic, dreamy tone. “Thanks.”

“Mmhm,” he hummed in acknowledgement, a smile playing at his lips. “Lead the way?”

Rather than answering him, you turned on your heels and started pushing your way back to the table. A faint blush creeping up your neck stubbornly as you felt his gaze burn the back of your head.

Back at the table, you spent the next couple of hours chatting lightly and without care. Your current lifestyle didn’t grant you many opportunities to let your guard down, so times like these were definitely cherished.

As the night went on and the crowd thinned out, Jaskier found his way back to your table. The three of you talked on until the pubs owner finally came over to let you know they were closing up the kitchen. You were all pleasantly buzzed and not quite ready to call it, so Geralt volunteered to get you another pitcher.

As Geralt chatted with the owner at the bar, Jaskier took the opportunity to remind you of the promise you made earlier that night.

“No Jask, come on. It took me all night to get him back to his jovial self,” you sighed, shaking your head lightly.

“Please? Geralt is never truly jovial, and you promised!”

“Another time, yeah? When the wounds aren’t so fresh?”

“Y/N, it’s been ages. If the wounds were any staler the stench would kill us. Please? Just a verse? Only the chorus?”

“You’re incorrigible,” you sighed, already considering conceding to his relentless requests.

“Okay, what if you just give me the chords? Let me play it on the lute and imagine the artistry of your lyrics.”

You groaned and moaned, mulling it over as you weighed your options. You knew Jaskier would never shut up now that he had something to beg for. Watching Geralt at the bar, you considered how focused he looked in what the pub’s owner was saying and figured you had at least a couple minutes until he politely extracted himself from the discussion.

With a sigh, you looked back over at Jaskier with surrender in your eyes. His enthusiasm and excitement almost had you feigning sudden exhaustion so that you could escape to your room and avoid this whole affair, but he looked so impressed with the chords and melody you gave him that you couldn’t help but keep on. Whoever said flattery would get you nowhere had clearly never been subject to Jaskier’s charm.

As he plucked his lute to your melody, you slowly let the lyrics, and the memories attached, take you over.

I should've known I'd leave alone Just goes to show That the blood you bleed Is just the blood you owe

We were a pair But I saw you there Too much to bear You were my life But life is far away from fair

Fool me once, fool me twice Are you death or paradise? Now you'll never see me cry There's just no time to die

You started the song timidly, playing it safe vocally and keeping your voice at an almost whisper-sing. However, with Jaskier’s exceptional playing accompanying you, you felt yourself get lost in the song, eventually finding yourself near-belting the lines you’d written so long ago.

Back at the bar, Geralt was watching you with his mouth agape and his heart in his throat. Your voice was beautiful, almost haunting. He almost couldn’t believe it. He’d heard you sing plenty of times before; both with Jaskier and by yourself, but this was different. He’d never heard you belt like this, never seen you so lost in the song you were singing. Watching you, the way your chest rose and fell, your eyes closed, your head tilting back as you delivered notes even Jaskier would envy. As you reached the crescendo of the song, Geralt felt goosebumps rise across his arms, trying and failing to keep himself from physical reacting to your performance.

“They’ve got an incredible voice, eh?” the inn owner commented, as they placed the final pitcher of the night in front of Geralt.

The witcher though, could only manage a strangled grunt of acknowledgement. Yes, your voice was unlike anything he’d ever had the pleasure of hearing, but the lyrics cut deep. Each beautifully sung note was an ode to one of his greatest mistakes. A melodious tribute to his deepest shame. Listening to you sing was incredible, but it fucking hurt.

Merely nodding his acknowledgement and thanks, Geralt paid the keeper before making his way back towards your table, just in time for you to sing the last line. You were busy gushing over Jaskier’s impeccable playing as Geralt placed the full pitcher gently on the table.

“That was…” he tried, pausing to swallow the knot in his throat, “beautiful, Y/N. Really.”

“Seriously, Y/N, Geralt must have really done a number on you,” Jaskier spoke energetically, completely unaware of the uncomfortable look you just shared with Geralt. “I mean, with me he gave me Toss a Coin – iconic, and obviously Burn Butcher – a little polarising but the people seem to like it. But this? No time to die? Y/N this is evocative, haunting, breathtaking!”

Blushing furiously, you tried your hardest to keep your eyes on your freshly poured drink. Unfortunately, you were weak and couldn’t help but sneak a peek at Geralt. This, obviously, proved to be a major mistake because he was blushing just as furiously as you were. How were you supposed to stay cool when his big, sad, flustered eyes were looking at you like that?

“Okay, okay, Jaskier,” you mumbled, risking another quick glance at Geralt, “that’s enough.”

“Don’t be modest, Y/N” Jaskier insisted, taking a final swig of his drink.

“I-I’m not! I’m being,” you hesitated, cursing the blush burning at your neck, “sensitive, to Geralt!”

“Suuure, alright,” the bard laughed dryly, tapping the table lightly as he got up. “Well, I’m off to bed. Geralt – try not to break this one’s heart again, okay? I’m not looking for competition.”

“Shut up, Jaskier,” Geralt huffed, anxiously tapping at his mug of ale.

“’night Jask,” you said, rolling your eyes at him quickly before shooting him a soft smile.

Once alone, you and Geralt shared a moment palpable discomfort before you both burst into a fit of awkward laughter. You tried to break the tension but Geralt spoke up at the same time, prompting another bout of laughter out of the two of you.

“I-I know I’ve said it before but, I really am sorry,” Geralt said after silence fell between the two of you.

“I know,” you breathed, grabbing his hand and holding his gaze, “and I really did forgive you.”

“Okay,” he whispered, giving your hand a squeeze.

The pair of you sat in comfortable silence as the last of the candles burned to the end of their wicks around you. Your heart sank a little when Geralt pulled his hand out of yours, but then he put his arm around your shoulder and pulled you closer to him.

Closing your eyes, you smiled softly and promised yourself you’d write him another song.

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