Can I request True Love by P!nk with Jaskier and a female mage reader? Thanks!
Summary: You think you hate Jaskier, but actually there's something else entirely simmering under the surface.
TRUE LOVE
Agreeing to travel with Yennefer all those months ago was a terrible idea.
It was lovely at first, getting out of Aretuza’s strict environment and having control of your own days, but as soon as she decided to start travelling with Geralt of Rivia, a witcher, and his infuriating bard companion Jaskier, it very quickly turned from lovely to something you would gladly trade to going back to Aretuza.
Jaskier was insufferable. There was truly no other word for it. He sang at every waking hour, charmed almost every single person he met eyes with, and had an almost supernatural ability to direct every conversation back to himself.
“You know,” he had said one morning, with his bread roll in hand. “I once wrote a ballad and performed it at the wedding of a certain duke. The bride — the duchess now, I believe — was so moved by it that I heard she cried for three days. Three.”
“She was weeping because she had to listen to you talk,” you had scoffed.
Jaskier’s expression had immediately turned sour, and he pointed his bread roll at you accusingly. “You are not a very pleasant person.”
You had taken a bite of your own bread roll, chewing slowly while glaring at the bard. And as soon as you swallowed, you had told him, “I don’t feel the need to be. I did not ask for a story time of how grand and lovely you are.”
After that, you had gone through a similar fight every day. Him telling stories of making women weep and breaking hearts, and you scoffing and huffing at those stories. But at the same time, some small voice at the back of your mind waited to see him each morning. You always silenced it, though — it was just boredom, you enjoyed arguing with him because there was little else to do when watching Yennefer and Geralt falling in love and bitterly remembering how every romantic relationship in your past had ended because of your supposed “walls”.
Then came that one night, when moon was full, and Geralt had left to track a werewolf that had been stalking a nearby village for the past few months. Jaskier was asleep, almost cuddling his lute, and you stared at him for a moment. But then Yennefer snapped you out of it.
“You should stop,” she said, sitting beside you. “Pretending you hate him.”
You rolled your eyes. “Not again, Yen. I do hate him, no matter how many times you try to tell me it’s hidden feelings.”
She sighed, brushing some dust off her dress. “I know you remember every song and every tale he has ever told you, word to word. You may not realise why, or you forbid yourself from acknowledging it, but… I do know how love looks like when I see it.”
“Love,” you scoffed. “Me, Jaskier and love don’t fit in the same sentence.”
“I also see he loves you,” she continued. “A few nights ago, he pulled the blanket up your body when it had slipped away from your shoulders. He didn’t see me looking at him.”
Your heart skipped a beat. “He… what?”
She hummed with a small smile. “I know you think you don’t deserve love, but I know that if you gave it a chance… Jaskier could make you happy.”
You didn’t say anything to that, even when you were tempted to keep fighting — but a small sparkle of hope flickered in your chest, and you got a flash of what if.
Yennefer smirked. “I can arrange some alone time for you two tomorrow.”
You nodded, almost without realising you did, and glanced at Jaskier’s sleeping form again. Maybe you’d deserve love after all.
A/N: i lost motivation halfway through writing this but i forced myself to finish it and i actually really like the end result !!
You stood next to Jaskier, squinting in the dark as you explored the old witch’s hut Geralt had found on your way from one town to another.
A glint of light reflecting off a glass on a nearby shelf caught your eye, and you stepped away from the group to inspect it. It was a cloud of something you couldn’t identify, with small orbs floating through the bottle, glowing as they bounced against the glass.
Curiosity got the best of you, and you found yourself pulling the cork off the bottle only for the spores inside to explode in your face. You stumbled back, coughing violently, Geralt’s attention snapping to you.
Before you could blink, Geralt snatched the glass bottle from your hand, roughly setting it back onto the shelf when he turned to you. “You shouldn’t be touching anything in here.”
You nodded, still trying to catch your breath.
“Jaskier,” Geralt continued, still looking at you. “That means you, too.”
Jaskier dropped his hands, inches away from a book that was calling out to him, making his way back to your side.
Once you’d gathered yourself, you couldn’t shake the feeling of a very faint tightness in your throat. Jaskier gave you a worried look, but you shook it off, plastering on a smile.
Hours passed since you left the hut before you found a town, Jaskier gravitating towards the tavern instantly, you and Geralt following behind while he began performing. Geralt took his seat in the corner, with you following suit across from him, watching the bard jump around the room and sing to the drunken townsfolk.
You cleared your throat quietly, uncomfortably aware of the feeling of a lump in your throat. It would be a shame if you got sick, it was never ideal - especially on the road with a witcher.
Not long passes before you retire to bed early, making your way to the inn and collapsing on the bed in one of the rooms, hoping the feeling in your throat would be gone by morning.
It wasn’t.
When you sit up in bed, you try to clear your throat, frowning when nothing changed. With a sigh, you heaved yourself out of bed, going off to meet up with Geralt and Jaskier.
They were already outside, chatting not too far from your room, both stopping and turning to you once you appeared.
Jaskier’s eyes lit up, rushing over to you. “Morning, darling!” He threw an arm around your shoulder, walking the both of you back to Geralt. “Thank the gods you’re awake, Geralt is being such a bore!”
You grin, leaning into his touch.
“Let’s go.” Geralt gave neither of you more than a glance, already hoisting himself onto Roach.
You and Jaskier walked behind him, the closeness between you and the bard making your throat burn in a way you couldn’t explain.
The town got further and further behind the three of you, steadily walking down the forest path to your next destination.
After what felt like forever, Geralt stopped, directing Roach off the path until you were well hidden, climbing down and setting up camp for the night. You set your bedroll beside Jaskier’s - the first time you’d done it was to keep warm, but now the two of you had an unspoken understanding to keep each other close.
Once you were settled, Jaskier pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you. You smiled to yourself, allowing yourself to pretend in the darkness that Jaskier could be yours. Reaching up a hand, you absentmindedly played with the hair on the nape of his neck.
When sleep finally came, you accepted it, letting your eyes close as you snuggled further under the blankets.
A harsh cough woke you up, feeling like all air was ripped from your lungs, your hand going to your chest. It doesn’t take long for Jaskier to wake up as well, your sudden movements startling him out of his slumber.
“Y/N?” His voice was etched with worry, the burning in your throat becoming painfully noticeable.
You shook your head, trying to tell him to go to sleep even when no words would come.
He leaned closer, putting an arm around you, sitting with you until you could take a full breath again.
After clearing your throat a couple more times, to no avail, you gave up. Sighing heavily, you laid back down, curling back into Jaskier’s arms, hoping to get at least a wink of sleep before Geralt forces you all back onto the road the second light starts shining through the trees.
It was another three days before you stumbled across another village. You were trudging through the forest, trying to focus on putting one foot in front of the other, when Jaskier perked up at the distant sound of a bustling city.
“Finally, something to do!” He cheered, walking past you and Geralt to make his claim in the town.
With Jaskier out of earshot, Geralt slowed, dismounting from Roach to walk by your side. He gave you a long look, inspecting your face. You avoided his gaze, already knowing what he was going to say. Even without a mirror nearby, you could tell you looked awful. Your running theory was that you’d gotten sick from something at some point during the last couple of stops you’d made.
“You alright?” He asked. You finally looked at him, the worry in his eyes making your heart drop. Geralt was rarely worried; he was the kind of person who didn’t flinch in the path of danger, but the fear behind his eyes made you realize how serious this could be.
“Geralt-”
“Your eyes are sunken, you’re sweating all over, and you look half dead. Not to mention you haven’t gone a full night without coughing up a lung. Don’t think I haven’t noticed. Jaskier has too, he’s worried about you.”
You avoided his gaze, suddenly very interested in the ground.
“It’s not a normal sickness.” He said simply, the two of you now nearing the town Jaskier had run off to.
“Wh-” You cut yourself off, taking a deep breath to fight off a coughing fit threatening to surface. “What is it?”
He took a step closer, looking deep into your eyes. You nearly shrunk away from his gaze, his yellow eyes practically piercing into your soul.
“It’s a curse.
He stepped away from you, heading off towards the town.
You gaped at him for a moment, head reeling, before you forced your feet to move, following the witcher.
By the time you and Geralt reached the tavern in town, you could already hear the music flowing outside. You sped up, pushing the door open, seeing the way Jaskier’s grin widened when he saw you.
Geralt follows you to the back corner of the tavern, taking the seat opposite you and setting two cups of ale on the table.
Gratefully, you take one, peacefully watching Jaskier’s performance while taking sips of your drink. The liquid was easing your throat a bit, so you continued to drink, laughing when Jaskier would send a wink your way.
Once you finished your drink, however, the burning worsened. When you felt the all too familiar tickle in your throat, you quietly excuse yourself and sneak off, ignoring Geralt’s look as you left.
You got to a bathroom, coughing harder than you thought you ever could, heart dropping when you spat up blood. The pain was worse than usual, but you couldn’t stop, barely standing by the time something dislodged from your throat. A petal falls from your mouth, landing gently in the puddle of blood.
A buttercup.
The bright yellow practically shone against the deep red surrounding it.
Whatever this was, it was getting worse.
“You don’t have long.” Geralt’s voice made you jump, not hearing him approach.
“Don’t-” You coughed, your throat burning like never before. “Don’t tell Jaskier,”
Geralt said nothing, the only sound in the room was the distant echo of Jaskier’s singing.
“I don’t want him worried.” You explained, your voice strained. It felt like you had knives crawling up your windpipe, every swallow and every breath nearing excruciating pain.
“He’s always worried.”
He stared at you for a long while, hunched over with blood trickling from your mouth, before he spoke.
“I’ll try to contact Yennefer.”
While Geralt tried to find solutions, waiting for Yennefer to get his message, you continued to endure the pain. You quickly found that it was worse when you were around Jaskier, but you didn’t have the heart to avoid him.
You could feel how worried Jaskier was with every cough, every wheeze, every time you breathed funny. You knew he hated not knowing what was going on, and you heard him arguing with Geralt every night, but neither of you budged.
Even now, you were lying in your bed in the room you were staying at, listening to Jaskier and Geralt argue through the thin walls.
“Why don’t I get to know?” Jaskier’s voice was angrier than you’ve ever heard him.
“It’s something we’re handling.” Geralt stood firm, knowing you didn’t want Jaskier involved. It would only worry him more.
“Why can’t I know what you’re handling?” Still, the desperation in Jaskier’s voice tugged at your heartstrings.
“We don’t know what it is, Jaskier.”
You frowned at that, dread seeping into your veins. Their voices grew quiet, hushed conversation no longer within earshot.
It wasn’t long until you were bedridden.
Jaskier stayed at your side the entire time. He played the lute, coming up with new songs every day just to keep you entertained.
Geralt had finally gotten into contact with Yennefer, who was going through everything she knew to find something to help.
She explained to you what was happening, and you swore Jaskier was more scared than you. The stems of a flower were crawling up, wrapping around the inside of your neck, clinging to your windpipe and slowly draining the life out of you. With a pitied look, she told you how little time you had left.
“It can take about two weeks to fully take effect, but at the rate yours is increasing, you don’t have many days left. You’ll be in extreme pain the longer it takes and the worse it gets. It’s an old curse, if there’s a cure out there it’ll take me some time to figure it out-”
“Please,” Jaskier’s voice surprised you, weaker than expected. “Find something.”
She nodded, leaving the two of you alone to search through the rest of her books.
The worry in Jaskier’s eyes made your throat tighten, and it wasn’t long before you shot up in bed, coughing uncontrollably until a mixture of blood and buttercup petals fell from your lips. Jaskier stayed beside you, holding you gently as if your bones were broken just beneath your skin.
When the coughing subsided, you grimaced at the petals in your hand, the blood dripping through your fingers onto the blanket laid over you.
Quickly, Jaskier grabbed a rag off to the side, cleaning off your hand without saying a word. It was almost unsettling to see the bard so quiet, his usual bubbly demeanor had diminished since he found out about what happened. A part of you felt guilty that you were, albeit indirectly, the cause of his newly found silence.
“You’re going to be okay.” He finally whispers, having disposed of the mess.
You nod, not trusting yourself to speak.
When Yennefer enters the room hours later, she quietly asks Jaskier to leave so she could speak to you in private. You push yourself into a sitting position as he walks out, frowning when you saw Yennefer’s weak smile.
“So, I did find a cure.” She starts, and you couldn’t help the light feeling in your chest. “But, I did want to talk about what caused it, first.”
You stayed quiet. You’d been doing that a lot lately, not having enough strength to speak.
“An unrequited love.”
Your heart skipped a beat, the both of you knowing who it was.
“The cure?” You managed to ask, voice hoarse.
“The only cure is to have your love be… well… requited.”
“Well, fuck.” You laugh bitterly, collapsing back down into the bed.
Yennefer rolled her eyes, casting a quick glance to the door Jaskier had just left through. She looked back at you for a moment before turning and walking out of the room.
In the brief moments you were alone, you tried to make your peace with death.
“Jaskier,” The bard’s head snapped up, staring wide-eyed at Yennefer.
“Is she alright? Did you figure out a cure? What’s going on?” He grabbed her hands in his, desperation growing by the second.
When Yennefer said nothing, Jaskier’s heart dropped.
“She’s dead, isn’t she? Oh, gods, I can’t believe I never-”
“I found a cure.” She said, fighting back a grin when Jaskier’s brows furrowed, his hands falling to his side.
“Why didn’t you start with that? You let me think she was dead, I was going crazy over here! What’s the cure? Toad’s foot? Or is it something hard to get? Is it a dragon’s eye?”
“The cure is for the person she loves to love her back.” She explained.
Jaskier frowned, confused. “What kind of stupid curse-”
“Jaskier,” She interrupted, not letting him go on a rant about the thing that was killing you.
“Well,” He took a deep breath, sighing. “Who does she love, then? Because they would be an idiot not to love her back.”
“It’s you.”
Jaskier blinked.
“Me?”
Yennefer nodded, lips curling up in a smile.
“How does she not know?” He whispered. “Of course I love her, I love her more than anything.”
“Tell her, then.”
Wasting no time, Jaskier shoved past Yennefer to get to you.
You force your eyes open when the door is thrown with a force so strong it slams against the wall. Jaskier barely paid it any mind, rushing over to kneel at your bedside. The look in his eyes was all you needed to know he was here to say his goodbyes. Yennefer must’ve told him.
“Y/N, you need to listen to me.” Ever so gently, he cradled your face in his hands, his striking blue eyes looking deep into yours. “I love you. I love you so much.”
You pulled away as Yennefer stepped into the room, standing by the door. The tightening in your throat worsened, and you brought a hand up to your neck, another petal lodging its way into your throat.
Jaskier frowned, looking back to Yennefer as you began to cough again.
“She has to believe it.” The witch explained.
When Jaskier looked back at you, the heartbreak in his eyes nearly destroyed you.
“You don’t believe it?” You frowned at Jaskier, barely shaking your head. “Dear heart, I’ve loved you since the moment I laid eyes on you. I’m surprised you never saw it; every song, every poem, I wrote for you. You have lived eternally in my mind since I met you, my love.”
You blinked away your tears, unsure when you started crying. The tension in your throat lessened.
“Your name is engraved upon my heart, you made me understand the reason I was born. The second I met you I knew you were my destiny. I would give you all my days if I could just see you smile again, I would lose everything just to lay awake with you at night, watching the light fade from the sky-”
“Gods, you’ll be the death of me.” You laughed wetly, not bothering to wipe the tears streaming down your face.
“I’m trying to make that not be the case, love.” He whispered, his thumb gently rubbing your cheek.
Leaning forward slightly, your eyes fluttered closed as you allowed your forehead to rest against Jaskier’s.
“How do you feel?” Yennefer piped up, still standing by the door.
For the first time since you’d felt that tickle in your throat, you let yourself relax.
What about a scenario where the reader gets teleported from the modern world into the witcher universe (I'm thinking game, but it could be any of them) and she ends up at Kaer Morhen, teaching Dandelion (Jaskier) her favourite songs by humming them along.
Notes: Not requested, I just thought up something short and sweet. My first Witcher fic in a long time, so enjoy! <3
Words: 1101
~ Poet
“I’m a bard by trade,” he had said with great confidence when Geralt first introduced you two. He adjusted the lute slung on his back and held out a hand for you to take. “I’m Julian Alfred Pankratz, but you may know me as Jaskier, famed musician across the continent.” He was unmistakably eager and you eyed his hand for a moment, before taking it in yours and giving it a firm shake.
“I know,” you said, eyes flicking from his face to the instrument. “I’ve heard your songs.”
“Oh?” he grinned, eyes lighting up. “Which ones? What is your favourite? No, wait.” He shook his head, stopping you from answering. “Don’t tell me. I’ve found my new muse. I’ll write you a new favourite.”
You scoffed at the idea, your face warming slightly. “As long as you don’t get yourself killed, sing to your heart’s content.”
The grunt from the witcher at your side revealed Geralt’s obvious exasperation, but you didn’t mind the hopeful look on Jaskier’s face.
~
“I think we’ve walked by that tree stump a few times already,” Jaskier noted, his voice trembling as he wrung his hands. You couldn’t tell if it was because of the cold or the possibility that something wicked was afoot. He lingered a few feet behind you, taking in the thick forest that engulfed the path you followed.
“I know,” you agreed, hand resting on the sword on your hip, cautious in your footsteps. “Something isn’t right here.”
“It’s magic,” Geralt called over his shoulder, leading Roach further down along the trail. “An illusion. A seemingly never-ending loop; think of it as a bottomless mug of ale. We’ll pass through it soon.”
“Last time I checked, a bottomless mug of ale is a good thing and doesn’t make me see things,” Jaskier snarked.
With a chuckle, you turned your head around to lock eyes with the bard. “Depends how shitty the ale is and how much you’ve drank.”
“Ha! A joke. Very funny,” Jaskier rolled his eyes with a reluctant upward tug of his lips.
~
“The bard’s grown quite fond of you,” Geralt stated, arms crossed over his chest as you perched your elbows on the table.
“I know,” you chuckled, leaning your chin on your fist as you watched the show.
The man in question was prancing around the tavern, furiously strumming his lute as the song picked up and met its climax. The band accompanying him only spurred on his theatrics and added to the drama, leaning into his ballad and its passionate lyrics. Jaskier sent an almost suave wink towards your table, making you laugh with a newfound fondness spreading through you.
Geralt looked between the two of you, frowning slightly before returning to a neutral demeanour. “He can be a handful sometimes,” he added.
You grinned, catching Jaskier’s eye from across the room as he bowed to the gathering crowd. “Oh gods, I hope so.”
“… you’re insufferable.”
“Moody.”
~
“I’d be yours, if you asked,” the bard admitted, sitting on a stool that faced away from the screen divider in the room. He fidgeted with the sleeves of his new doublet, pulling at a frayed bit of embroidery and trying to ignore the sound of shuffling over his shoulder.
“I know.” From behind the divider, you tugged on the frilly and pompous outfit, the one gifted to you for the court feast later that night. It itched in spots that most definitely should not itch, but you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and managed to ignore the discomfort the clothes brought you. You looked rather… good. Noble. Smart. Clean. A stark contrast to your travelling gear.
“So… why haven’t you?”
“Be patient.”
“Patience is my middle name.”
“I know for a fact that is not true, Jaskier,” you teased as you emerged and picked some imaginary dust from your shoulder. You cleared your throat, prompting him to turn around. He stared at you, blinked, and then a smile bloomed across his face.
“You look… aha, you look ravishing, darling.”
You shuffled on the spot, looking down shyly but enjoying the attention anyway. “Thank you,” you murmured. You heard him cross the room, and felt a finger gingerly lift your chin enough so that you met Jaskier’s gaze. He looked at you tenderly, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards.
“If it means anything to you,” he said, adjusting the shoulders of your outfit absentmindedly, “I’ll wait as long as it takes to be yours.”
Your eyes stung ever so slightly, glossing over despite yourself. You bit your lip, considering his words before taking his hands in yours and stepping forward to close the distance. “Then wait no longer.”
~
“I wish we could stay like this forever…”
“I know,” you hummed with a soft smile, reaching out to brush his cheek with your knuckles. He closed his eyes at the contact, relishing in your touch. His hair fanned out against the pillow, a dark halo that was only washed hours before, the faint smell of lavender soap lingering in the air.
As the sun set, and the city outside of the room you resided in began to stir, you slowly and reluctantly withdrew yourself from his embrace.
A whine escaped him as you stood up from the bed and started to collect yourself, and he buried his face in the bedsheets to muffle himself. You chuckled, pushing up your sleeves and slinging your cloak over your shoulders. You leaned down and pulled the sheets aside, revealing a pouting bard with messed up hair. You placed one hand on the bed to prop yourself above him, and planted a brief kiss to his expectant mouth. “We really must go,” you whispered against his lips as one of his hands cradled the back of your head.
With a cheeky smile and mirthful eyes, Jaskier simultaneously tugged on the collar of your clothes to bring you closer to him and pushed away the arm holding you up, resulting in you flopping on top of him. “Oh, I know, darling,” he said, laughter in his voice as he pressed kisses to your jaw before trailing a few down your neck. “But I don’t care enough about this banquet to have us leave so soon.” He tilted his head back, admiring you. “Do you know how much I love you so?”
You didn't.
And for once, not knowing didn’t bother you.
No. It didn’t bother you in the slightest when you returned his words of affection and spent a while longer in his arms. Banquets and itchy outfits could wait.
summary ~ jaskier reminds you just how much you mean to him in the only way he knows how.
warnings ~ fluff, some angst, hurt/comfort, crying, discussion of general insecurity and body image issues, mention of reader wearing a skirt, slight witcher season 1 + 2 spoilers, mild language, mention of a height difference, reader gets jealous, self doubt, mention of 'drinks' though not explicitly stated as alcohol (and not drank by reader), mentions of men being drunk.
a/n ~ based off of this ask!! so thank you my lovely soft thought anon!! this went from a less than 100 word soft thought, into a drabble, into a one shot, i simply could not stop myself with soft jaskier. without further ado, i hope you all enjoy!! mwauh!!
You huffed, crossing your arms across your chest. He knew what he did, you knew that it was just part of his job, but that fact still didn't make things any less frustrating seeing girls all around the tavern throw themselves at him.
You tried to focus on him, it usually wasn't this difficult to keep your attention on the man singing loud enough to shake the hinges off the tavern doors, but with every turn of his coat and wink thrown into the audience, you felt your eyes wandering to the swooning women offering up coy smiles and whispering bashfully to their friends before returning their lewd gazes to Jaskier.
You hated it.
You could remember the day he had first stormed into your life like it had happened only yesterday.
Before Witchers and tossing coins and child surprises.
Before all that, he was yours.
"Thank you ladies and-" He was cut off by another drunken heckle and you watched how his mouth opened, preparing to respond to the man. He raised his fist, but something about him somehow told you that he wasn't the type to resort to violence in these situations. He stammered, swallowing thickly as he tried to think of something to say, and you waited patiently on the edge of your seat for his response. His hand fell to his side as he sighed, mumbling a hushed 'forget it' as he stomped past you.
The words left your lips faster than you could even process them yourself, "Don't listen to them."
You could hear how the floorboards underneath his feet wailed as he paused in his tracks, and you instantly wished you could pluck the words from the air.
You cringed at the sound of his footsteps returning to you, and reluctantly you finally mustered the courage to turn in your seat to face him.
His mouth was slightly agape as he took you in, eyes flickering up and down your form as he inched closer to you. "Come again?" He finally spoke, almost breathlessly, as if he were trying to catch his breath from your statement.
You swallowed, your hands fidgeting in your lap before you finally responded. "Don't listen to them," You gave a shy smile, trying to ignore the strange heat that crawled up your cheeks from his burning, blue gaze. "Closest thing they've heard to music is their Roosters in the morning." You sputtered, almost wincing at your awkward attempt at humor.
His hearty laugh warmed your heart unexpectedly, and you found yourself suddenly laughing with him. His laugh sounded like sunshine, and the fresh, sunny part of Spring, you felt your shoulders sagging in relief at the sound of it.
"At least someone with taste frequents this inn..." He spat jokingly, quickly sliding into the bench seat across from you in the corner booth you had settled yourself in before his performance. He unceremoniously slammed his Lute on the table, making you jump at the sound.
"Oh I- No, I work here." You mumbled, quickly raising the beige colored rag that had been tucked into the waistband of your skirt.
"What is a place like you doing with a girl like this?" He smirked, now resting his chin on the palm of his hand as he leaned forward on the table, as if to get a better look at you.
You let out a soft, amused hum, trying to thwart the unanticipated fluttering that had begun to bloom in the pit of your stomach. "I bet you say that to all the girls."
"Only to ones that speak to me-"
"Hey!" The sudden booming voice of the innkeeper had you both turning towards the bar. "Don't pay ya to socialize!" He called out, his frustrated grumbling audible from across the room.
"I'm sorry I-"
"Yeah, no, I'd better get going-"
You clumsily stumbled over each others farewells, exchanging uncomfortable chuckles before you finally gathered yourselves.
"I thought you sang wonderfully," You smiled, untucking the rag from your skirt as you leaned over a nearby table, mindlessly wiping it down. "And it was very nice to meet you"
"Likewise..." You could sense an unfamiliar sort of tension radiating between the two of you. It was a magnetic sort of warmth that kept pulling you towards each other, making it so neither one of you wanted to initiate a goodbye.
"It's been a pleasure" He added, but before you could respond, a loud, metallic clash broke you from your thoughts.
You closed your eyes, an exasperated sigh falling from your lips, "I'm sorry" You winced apologetically, gathering the few pewter mugs that had been left on the table into your arms.
"Get the bard out!" The man behind the bar finally shouted, loud enough to even wake the sleeping man who had been resting his head on the edge of the bar. "He's stayed his welcome!"
"I do believe that is my cue" He grinned cheerfully, grabbing his Lute from the table behind him and reluctantly turning from you.
You smiled as he walked off, you couldn't remember the last time you had experienced a conversation with someone that consisted more of drunken grunts or orders to clear the tables faster.
"Your name!" You heard a shout from the door, and you lifted your head to see what the ruckus was about, you weren't shocked to see who it was. "I never got your name!"
"Fuck off!" Another jeer came from your employer behind you, though the man was still insisted.
You called out your name over the suddenly groaning crowd, expressing their discontent with all the shouting and the bard's still-lingering presence.
You could hear his contented hum as he looked at you, "Music" he muttered, before finally exiting the tavern.
You knew of the exceptions of his occupation, you were no stranger to the ever-revolving group of musicians and singers that found themselves stumbling through the battered entryway of the inn.
Though something deep inside you told you that it would be different this time.
Unlike all the other boozing men that stumbled into the tavern in the small hours of the night with a lute in their hand, shouting nonsense at anyone who would listen, only to walk off unphased the next morning, never to return. Those men never even cared to tip you, even when they spilled their entire mug of ale across the floor, let alone ask for your name.
This one was different.
He'd be back.
Within only a matter of weeks, the two of you had settled into a comfortable routine. The village you had found yourself stuck in for the majority of your life had made a quite name for itself in the realm of monsters, so Witchers were not an uncommon sight in your tavern, though you couldn't say you had ever seen one bring along such a companion as Jaskier.
The taller man was almost completely silent, though it could be said that even the loudest gossip in town was fairly quiet in comparison to Jaskier. He didn't say much, only muttering a few 'thank you's' to you occasionally when you served the men their drinks after longer journeys.
You were only friends back then, even in the moments when it felt like so much more, you didn't want to sacrifice what you had for something that seemed so destined to fail.
Between his own unpredictability and unusual travelling schedule, you weren't sure your heart would be able to manage, and even though you shared nothing but friendship at the time, it seemed to be no use even as your stomach dropped into a pit of dread when he told you how long he would be leaving you this time.
"You look as radiant as ever" His familiar, lilting tone almost had you closing your eyes to appreciate the full sound of his voice without any distraction.
"I bet you say that to all the girls" You smiled, eagerly settling your hands on either side of his collar.
"Only to ones that compliment my singing..."
You could hear the annoyed groans from the white haired man behind him, though you couldn't bring yourself to care.
When he looked at you, it was like he was really seeing you. Not just as someone who brought him his drinks or as someone to flirt with every time he came to town, he saw you.
When he stared at you, it always looked as if he were studying you, his gaze always flickering from your eyes to the tip of your nose, to the small wrinkles that gathered at the corners of your eyes. On some nights, on those late evenings when neither of you could bring yourselves to sneak back off into your rooms at the back of inn, when all that illuminated the empty tavern was a single flame lantern in between the two of you, you would swear that his gaze would quickly shift to your lips.
"I'll miss you" He finally sighed.
"You'll be back before you know it" You feigned a weak smile as your hands crept their way onto either side of his collar. "And I'll be right here."
"You always are."
"And I always will." You replied softly.
"You're too good for me..."
There was a pregnant pause between the two of you as you took each other in. Examining each others faces as if attempting to commit every feature to memory before you were robbed of each others presence once again.
"When I get back..." He whispered, his lips almost ghosting over the shell of your ear, "Come with me."
You quickly snapped your head back, your eyes wide with shock and confusion. "Jaskier, all I've ever done is..." You glanced around the gloomy, dimly lit tavern, "This... I don't know how useful I would be-"
"No, just you and me... I just-" His voice was frantic before he cut himself off with a sigh, gathering himself before continuing, "I just can't do... This," He hastily gestured between the two of you, "...Anymore. I can't leave you again... I won't... My heart can't bear it."
Ever since you could recall a single memory, it seemed you were planted immovably within the four walls of the tavern. You had been content with that life for so long, never wishing for anything more but a decent tip and pleasant customers. Though ever since you had first met Jaskier, with his stories of adventure and daring and life, you found yourself dreaming of a life beyond the walls you had once comfortably regarded as your own personal cut of the world. At night, instead of empty, barren nights in a drafty chamber, you dreamt of another life entirely.
One with him.
"Say you'll come with me." He sighed, exasperated, "Please." His brow furrowed as he begged, and you took a final look around the tavern.
The innkeeper grunted angrily from behind the bar, men littered the scattered tables, some with their heads on their plates, some staring mindlessly at the wall, yelling unintelligibly about the wrongs of the world. There was a couple sat in a booth in the corner, bickering about whatever nonsense that would surely end up with ale spilled all over the table.
People were always coming and going in the village searching for work, and what did you have to loose?
You smiled as a new air of certainty washed over you, and you were certain you had never been more sure of anything in all of your years.
"Yes."
The rest of your story was history, and although friends came and left you both along your journeys, you knew that you always had each other. Even when the world seemed to be crashing down around the both of you, you would only hold each others hand until you could finally see the sunlight once more.
And once you could both could feel the sun on your skin again and the dust finally settled, he still stood beside you.
Even if you wanted to, his presence was not one you could easily escape. You wondered how Geralt did it, with "Toss a Coin" being the drinking song of choice across the continent most nights. You knew that even if you tried, you'd never be fully rid of Jaskier, not that you'd ever want to be.
As you watched him sing and swagger around the tables and chairs before you, a strange mix of pride and something different brought a furious heat to your cheeks.
You were happy for him, really, you were. You considered it an honor to see him grow into the whirlwind individual he was now, drawing in crowds large enough that some patrons even needed to be turned away at the door.
Though you'd be lying if you didn't admit that on some nights, it began to feel as if you were being left behind. On evenings when he was kept late from coming home with you due to encore after encore requested by the women who just couldn't seem to get enough of him, he would indulge them of course, winking to you from the small raised platform before you finally head out for the night, it was hard to think you were anything more than one of his many female devotees.
You whimpered at the thought, the idea that one day he could pack up and disappear from your side haunted you. The image of Jaskier venturing off with another woman he had met at some local tavern just like he did with you, leaving you with nothing but the remains of once cherished memories, continuously nagged at you from the darkest corners of your mind.
There was a soft knock on the door frame of your bedroom, "Darling..?"
You hummed, content that he was finally home, even as your betraying imagination still continued to torment you with what if's.
"You left early" He sighed, slowly stepping behind you until his chest was almost entirely flush against your back, wrapping his arms gently around your waist and pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.
"Tired" You mumbled, still focusing on busying yourself on thoughtlessly turning and fluffing the pillows.
"What's wrong?" He whispered, his worry evident in his tone.
"Jaskier, I'm fine" You groaned, "I promise."
"Love, it's not that I don't believe you, it's only that I don't"
You let out an exasperated huff as you finally spun in his arms. "I promise" You hated how your voice wavered as you spoke. You were fine, truly, you were happy, all of his dreams were coming true and you had the honor of being a part of it all.
He sighed your name, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, "Then why are you crying?"
You cursed internally for not realizing you had begun crying earlier when you were lost in your own spiraling thoughts. There was no use in holding them back now, and even though you absolutely despised the heartbroken expression that instantly fell onto his features, you'd be lying if you said it didn't feel nice to finally let go of the tension that had been building up for months without end.
He gently nudged you onto the bed and settled himself beside you, sitting close enough where you could still feel the warmth of presence, but far enough way where you had room to breathe.
"Tell me what's wrong, please, let me fix it" He pleaded.
You wanted nothing more than to tell him, he was finally giving you an opportunity to finally say what had been weighing on your mind for months, yet, all you wanted to do now was go to sleep and pray he would forget about all this in the morning. A new fear crept into your mind, one more terrifying than the last.
That this was all in your head.
Maybe you had been just overreacting, you thought, it was part of his job after all, to entertain. If that included winking and flirting with everyone else in the crowd, than so be it.
"Please" You heard him whisper through the fog of your thoughts, and his delicate, melodic voice was the last hammer to your slowly crumbling resolve.
"I miss you, Jaskier" You finally sputtered, your voice broken and weak. "I see you up there, and I'm so happy for you, but then I see the how the other women look at you, and I know how they feel and I-" You were cut off by a choked sob, one that you almost didn't even recognize as coming from you at first. "I would understand if you-"
"Don't." His voice was shockingly stern, causing you to finally look up at him through your lashes. "Don't you dare."
"I'm sorry-"
"And don't apologize either, you've nothing to apologize for." His tone was sharp and almost frustrated, though as you examined his features, you could tell he was anything but. His eyes were gentle and apologetic, his brows furrowed in concern as he studied you.
"They're just all so..." You waved your hands aimlessly, hoping he would understand what you meant, "And I'm only... Me."
A hushed gasp left his lips before he responded, "Do you truly not see yourself as I do?"
You winced, your eyes dropping to the floor as a strange, ashamed sort of heat bloomed in your chest.
Suddenly, you felt his forefinger and thumb grasp your chin, urging you to face him once again. "You are the most beautiful soul I have ever come across in all of my days. If I hadn't ever returned to that tavern, I don't believe I would ever be able to manage to write another lyric ever again, the highest beauty I would ever know has already passed me by."
Jaskier liked to talk, it was one of the many reasons you had fallen for him in the first place. You could tell when he was only speaking to get what he wanted, swindling inn keepers into letting you two stay another night, or even trying to talk Geralt out of leaving town again. His words as he spoke to you now though, held a certain weight to them. He wasn't loud, he wasn't making jokes, his voice was tender and calm as he whispered to you, he wasn't saying these things for anyone else but you.
"You are an aria come to life, my love. I consider it my highest honor to be blessed with your presence each day."
"Jaskier-"
He suddenly grasped both of your hands, as if to quiet your protests even before you had begun to form a sentence. He knew you too well.
"You're right when you say you aren't like the others though," He added abruptly, "You are extraordinary."
Even when you probably looked pathetic, tears streaked down your cheeks and eyes puffy, he looked upon you as if you were the most precious, rarest of jewels.
For a moment, his eyes flickered to something behind you and he smirked, you could already see the mischief stirring in his eyes as he began to plot.
In an instant, he had shot up from the bed, extending his hand to you. "Come," He requested plainly, "I want to show you something."
You hesitantly took his hand, allowing him to guide you to the small space between your bed and the fireplace where a large mirror stood imposingly.
He stood stiff behind you, almost trapping you in place with his presence. Your eyes were glued to the floor, you had had enough tears tonight, and you certainly didn't feel like looking at yourself in the mirror in the state you were in.
As if he sensed your internal hesitation, his hand found your face again, gently brushing your cheek, pushing it to the side so you could take in the picture of your reflection. "Look at you..."
You swallowed, your eyes tracing and noting every dimple, curve and freckle that you had always avoided focusing on for too long.
"A goddess." Jaskier whispered, so quietly that you questioned if he had even meant for you to hear it. "Look at you, carved from the finest marble money could buy, draped in silk..." His hand drifted from your chin, tracing the line of your neck and down the plane of your arm. "How you are not the muse of a thousand men is beyond me."
More tears rolled down your cheeks as a faint, melancholy smile played on your lips.
"I know it may take you some time for you to see these things as I do, but please, just listen to me. You are exquisite." He quickly spun you in his arms, planting his hands firmly on your hips. "And if you still don't ever see yourself as I do, please know that there will always be one thing that you have that they never will."
You sniffled, hastily wiping the few stray tears that had fallen. "What?" You breathed quietly.
"When I look at you, well..." He sighed, "That's when the music begins."
You let out a soft sigh, pressing your slightly dampened cheek onto the thin fabric of his shirt.
"They're all for you... They always were, they always will be."
There was a moment of comfortable quiet between the two of you as you both soaked in each others presence, swaying gently as you held each other.
"I love you." You muttered into his chest.
You could hear the smile in his voice as he pressed a tender kiss to the top of your head. "I love you, darling."
There was a brief pause before you began to chuckle. "I bet you say that to all the girls..."
You could feel the smirk in his voice, an amused hum rumbling in his chest as he replied. "Only to you."
oh my goodness, this was an absolute joy to write and i got slightly emotional over this :') i've 100% been needing some insecurity comfort recently and gosh this soft thought made me scream!! i hope you enjoyed this my anonymous friend!! and to everyone else, i also hope you thoroughly enjoyed!! i want you all to know that you are all masterpieces and i love you all so very much!! mwauh!!
as always, likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated!!
codenamewitcher’s Monthly Fanfic Recs for January 2022
The Witcher
Eskel
out of the woods (Oneshot, 2.2k words) by @freyjaallan Netflix!Eskel x F!Reader, a fix-it fic where the reader saves Eskel. Warnings: suggestive content, blood, Eskel’s in pain, description of inections and wounds, language
How To Be A Romantic (Oneshot, 1.2k words) by @queenxxxsupreme Eskel x F!Reader, Geralt, Yennefer, Eskel, and the reader attend a banquet in their honor. Warnings: fluff, game!Eskel
Geralt of Rivia
Might and Valor (Possibly multiple parts, 8.6k words) by @watchstarscollide Geralt of Rivia x F!Reader, while indulging herself at a local tavern, the reader meets a hired witcher named Geralt of Rivia. Warnings: pining, alcohol use, drunk reader, fluff, comfort, mentions of loss, suggestive content, language.
The Cottage at the Edge of the Woods (Multiple Parts, Ongoing) by @starryeyedstories Geralt of Rivia x F!Reader, a series of shorts where Geralt finds a home in the reader that lives in a cottage at the edge of the woods. Warnings: not in chronological order, reader is implied to be shorter than Geralt, implied plus size reader, food mentions, injuries, language, fluff, pining
Jaskier
Needless Defense (Oneshot, 1.2k words) by @buckyodinson Jaskier x F!Reader, Jaskier defends the reader’s honor. Warnings: slight violence.
Flower and Flame (Oneshot, 1.4k words) by @buckyodinson Jaskier x GN!Reader, the reader helps Jaskier through some of his trauma. Warnings: potential mentions of PTSD, mentions of panic attacks, language
A Bard’s Wife (Oneshot, 1.3k words) by @buckyodinson Jaskier x F!Reader, the reader helps Jaskier move elves to Cintra. Warnings: language
Choose me (Multiple Parts, 10.8k words) by @stilesmieczyslaw Jaskier x F!Reader, the reader is given an ultimatum - Geralt or Jaskier. Warnings: violence, language, fluff, angst, mentions of sex
Forgive me (Multiple Parts, 10.6k words) by @stilesmieczyslaw Jaskier x F!Reader, PART 2 OF ‘Choose me,’ the reader lives with the choice she made and finds that she misses the one she didn’t choose. Warnings: violence, blood, language, fluff, angst, mentions of sex
The Art of Getting By (Possibly Multiple Parts, 2k words) by @writersblockedx Modern!Jaskier x F!Reader, Jaskier is hired as the new live entertainer at the pub the bartends at. Warnings: mentions of alcohol, drinking, reader hates her job.
Heart’s On Fire (Oneshot) by @bowieandqueen11 Jaskier x GN!Reader, the reader helps stitch up Jaskier’s wound. Warnings: descriptions of wounds, blood, needles, pining
Is it Wrong to Pick Up a Bard on a Mountain? (Oneshot, 1.5k words) by @lettenhcve Jaskier x GN!Witcher!Reader, after his fall out with Geralt, Jaskier runs into another witcher, but not all witchers are the same. Warnings: language, fluff, angst.
I know this is like 23 days late and the end of February but I had some stuff interfere with me getting this posted within the first two weeks of February.
Jaskier x Reader Series // Chapter Two - The Path to Enlightenment
I remember someone asking for this drabble to be turned into a series of Y/N and Jaskier going about travelling, monster hunting, and finally realising Jaskier’s crush, so here you go! My first series whoop whoop this is exciting!
The next chapter is going to be Y/N and Jaskier at the inn and oh no!! There’s only one bed left!! So if you want me to continue, please comment and let me know that you enjoy!!
Part one can be read here!
(I do not own The Witcher or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @lovingyoulovingmelovingus.)
☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°
Exhausted couldn’t begin to even cover it.
After trudging for what seemed like decades through the thickets of brambles: trawling through the muddy waters of the lower valleys and then scurrying over hedges and growths that seemed to be made solely of pointed swords and pinching fingernails, Jaskier’s eyes could barely keep fluttering awake any longer. Yet his silence seemed to frighten you, or at least shock you down to your troubled core. Not once did he open his rather garrulous mouth to utter a word of annoyance, sound a grievance of joyous displeasure or begging to stop for some time to scavenge and a moment to put his feet up.
It didn’t take long for a passing flower field to take the newest swing of his fancy, and even less time for Jaskier to remove his doublet and lay down upon it amongst the snapping firedragons and dew-drop violets. He carefully placed his lute down among a fine looking encampment of drooping daisies beside his ribs. Although he grimaced, trying to roll back his still injured shoulder as he fell among the wafting stalks, he still found the energy to open one eye at you.
‘You know, enjoying yourself for one moment won’t be the end of the world. Especially when you have such fabulous company to keep you busy- or at least occupied until you stop blaming yourself for every bad deed that happens along the path.’ He reaches behind his head, tangling his fingers through the shoots and crisp leaves until he reaches a plump, red berry and pops it back in his mouth. He pats the small space of unfettered soil beside him with a grin, and you find your own complaint to be a tired sigh as you heave down to lie beside him.
He turns on his side to face you, red breeches burning like fire against the sun as he crosses his legs and pretends he doesn’t notice how he lies them to rest against your thigh. He can feel his breath racing out his mouth as he chews, hoping you don’t realise how much his hand is shaking as he tries to nonchalantly reach out and play with the loose strands of your hair falling from your bun. The lines on his forehead squeeze together as he talks: ‘I wanted... I wanted to finish off our last conversation.’
‘What, the one where you confessed your undying love to me and told me that “oooh, I will never part from you Y/n, it would break my soul into pieces”‘. You press the back of his hand exaggeratedly against your forehead, rolling a little from side to side as you notice him roll his eyes and huff. He uses the same hand to hit your shoulder, but even you are able to notice the way his lips twitch up towards his usual jubilant smile.
Yet he seems to turn more serious, as he lowers his attention away from your eyes, down to your lips, and then more dramatically to the piece of stalk he pulled from the ground and fiddled between his fingers. ‘I meant every word of it, you know’, he puffs, heaving his chest up as if somewhere between pride and agony. ‘I’ve been in the presence of Geralt long enough to know that your life is dangerous and honestly, completely scarring sometimes.’ He widens his eyes, looking up at you with saucers in mock terror. You snort, but don’t laugh at him, feeling as if the Bard seemed more serious, more nervous behind the masquerade and airs of buffoonery he put on. Instead you inched closer to him, until you could feel the familiar itch of his sleeve’s lace against your hip. So close, in fact, that you could reach out and hit your nose against his, if you felt the need. And by the way Jaskier’s eyes went crossed as he glanced down to just that very same nose, he felt that very need extortionately in that moment.
‘You know, I um, hm, I was hoping that I, I wished- what I wanted to say.’
He tried to play off the way he whimpered when he could feel the warm breath from your mouth ghost over his lips. How badly he wanted to reach out the hands that were soaring up to rest crescentic against his chin. How the knees that were drawing up wanted to splay over your own, instead of him retreating within himself. How dreadfully pathetic, he thought, to be lying here with the love of your life, and all you can do is blubber like an idiot.
‘Jaskier, I don’t mean to ruin the first train of thought you’ve had in months, but the sun is beginning to lower behind your head. If we don’t leave her soon, a pack of wolves will make sure we never do.’
He grunted, coughing as he startled to sit upright. Drawing his chin down to his throat, he nodded fervently, until you reached out to hold it still in the fear he may snap it off. ‘Right, right, of course. My profound musings can wait. That is the life, and burden of a poet, after all.’
You only hummed, not noticing the way Jaskier’s eyes seemed to glow as bright and luscious as the pale, silvery moonlight now growing behind his head as he looked up at your rising form, as ensnared as someone with a burning heart could be. You offer him a hand, and he gladly takes it before he goes to gather up his loot and cap once again. He straightens the feather as he places it back on his head, watching you tighten the straps on your armour with a look so akin to ruination it could make a Wyvern weep. You catch him out of the corner of your eye, and even though he’s already bustled past you to start back out onto the stony path twisting through the outskirts of the forest, even you manage to spot the way he clenches his hand by the puff of his trousers. The same hand. that only a few moments ago, had just been touching yours.
You thought he would be slower after the stop. He seemed to be doubled over, quiet, as if ruminating. But no, Jaskier kept your pace; a rather solemn look on his face, but not one of displeasure at his current circumstances. It surprised you even further to note that his eyebrows were furrowed as if almost in deep thought, mouth pursed and jutting from time to time as if his thoughts had moved down to roll between his lips. As you passed by a particularly slippery patch of woodland floor, his breath hitched as if he were about to detail the particulars of the Universe to you, but thought better of it. Instead, as he nearly slipped over on his leg and fell down onto his rear, he only tentatively grasped his hand in your own.
You near jumped out of your skin when you felt his pinkie finger bump against the edge of your hand, felt it slide along your skin and almost withdraw as if every jolt and collision set his hand on fire. He clenched it, before relaxing down his palm again, trying to press it flat against yours without startling any words of disdain from your Witcher mouth. When he found none, he briefly smiled to himself, heart fluttering so fast with relief he feared the butterflies might come sprawling out of his mouth and blow away into the starlight.
As you continued to seek out the nearest inn for a night of well earned rest, and some ale to spend your well earned gold on, Jaskier’s fingers remained clamped, fettered against yours; as if letting go would lead him to disintegrate into the dirt on destiny’s unrelenting, and unforgiving breath.
Summary: Jaskier's beautiful new friend has you hurt. Unofficial sequel to I'll Come Back For That Pint
Warnings: alcohol
Pairings: Jaskier x reader
Square Filled: "Please don't leave me."
A/N: @thewitcherbingo
THE WITCHER BINGO MASTERLIST | THE WITCHER MASTERLIST | GENERAL MASTERLIST
"We leave Oxenfurt at nightfall. Plenty of time to take a bath before then." Jaskier's voice drifted up to you as you descended the creaky wooden stairs, arms piled high with dirty linen. The sheets stank to high heaven, and you wrinkled your nose. Soldiers never seemed to bathe.
"Bard." You nodded to him... and his companions. A woman glanced at you, purple eyes narrowed as she tugged her hood back over her head. You frowned, an irrational pang shooting through your chest as you met the gaze of her perfect face.
"Jaskier, who's this?" The woman turned back to your bard, seeking answers from him rather than asking you. You pulled a face, dumping the linen in the basket on the table. That was all the bedding, every room emptied of its soiled sheets, or at least you hoped you had remembered all of them.
Your bard introduced you as the barmaid, reducing your importance to your occupation. Lips pursed, you grabbed the other set of keys from behind the bar. Hmm. Maybe you needed to rethink the inn’s security measures.
"I'm stripping the beds. Do your sheets need washing?"
His eyes flickered between you and the woman, who raised one perfect eyebrow at him.
Ah. You understood.
You sighed. "I'm taking that as a no. Can I offer either of you two anything? A drink? Lodgings?"
You made eye contact with the soldier behind her, nodding a welcome. He frowned, a deep mistrust laid into every hesitant motion as he nodded back.
"We... A place to have a wash would be nice." The woman stumbled over her words, a sharp contrast to her previous confidence. You gave her a once over, your gaze running over her familiar features. She was probably some Countess or something, someone famous enough in these areas to be recognisable.
"There's a bathhouse down the street, or I can get the tub ready."
She glanced back at the soldier, who shrugged. "The tub would be lovely, thank you."
"I'll put them on your tab?" This was directed to the bard, who spluttered a protest, before you cut him off with a roll of your eyes. "It's not like you're paying it."
You grabbed a key from under the bar, scanning the books for any pre-agreed occupants for the night. You wouldn't have time to change the sheets before these two left, and on the days they were dirty for new occupants, Lefric would sigh and cut your tips. The woman took it from your outstretched hand, hovering awkwardly while you ducked back under for the linen closet key and grabbed an empty basket.
"Right, follow me. I'll get you some towels and start heating the water. Are you happy to share the tub?"
She glanced at her soldier, both shrugging somewhat indecisively.
You pulled two sets of towels out of the linen cupboard and sets of fresh sheets for the bed, chucking them in your empty basket haphazardly. “It’ll be quicker if you do. I’ll just boil one lot of water.”
“Yeah, thanks,” the woman struggled to hold all the towels you gave her, “that’s brilliant.”
:.
“Y/N?” The bard wheedled, eyes pleading as you replaced the ale barrel behind the bar, scowl etched into your features. The sheets fluttered outside on the line, hung between the inn and its opposing building. You glanced out again, frowning at the water dripping off of them. With the grey, overcast skies, they were taking a while to dry.
“Y/N?”
You skimmed off the first inch of beer, pouring it out of the window with a scoff. The rag was dirty enough to put more smears on the glasses as you cleaned, but it did a good enough job that the drunkards wouldn’t notice.
“Y/N.” The bard grabbed your shoulders, stopping you from turning away from him as you avoided eye contact. “Why are you ignoring me?”
“I’m working. Can you just let me finish my job?”
He dropped his hands to his side, nodding with a sigh.
Picking back up the cloth, you scrubbed at a particular stuck spot and rinsed the whole thing in the bucket before flipping it over to dry. Repeating it for every single glass got monotonous and you almostwished you could just chat to the bard. But you were pissed off. You had been strung along and you weren’t going to stand for the slight to your dignity, even if you were a lowly barmaid.
He trailed behind you at all times, looking like a kicked puppy every time you turned back. Honestly, if you scowled anymore, you were pretty sure that your face would stay that way. You grabbed the sheets off the line, folding them not-so-neatly, and chucking them back in the basket to replenish the linen cupboard.
“Are you done yet?” He whined as you returned to the bar, nothing else to pretend to keep your hands busy with.
“Yes. What do you want?”
“Hey, hey, hey!” He threw his hands in surrender, frown working its way onto his face. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”
“Don’t call me sweetheart.” You spat the pet name, bitter on your tongue as it reminded you just how much of a true flirt he was. You had been so stupid to just believe him.
His smile dropped. “Y/N?”
He sounded so lost, thoroughly confused as you clenched your jaw.
"You're not going to leave me, are you? Please don't leave me."
You scoffed. His audacity was astounding; he probably just wanted to be the one to end things. And playing on your sympathy was just cruel at this point.
“Go on, off with your other women.”
The bard frowned, opening his mouth as he failed to come up with any sort of protest. And then he gagged, face twisting with disgust. “Gods, eurgh, no, you don’t mean that she-devil, do you?”
It was your turn to frown.
He chuckled, that familiar smirk spreading across his lips. Gods, you wanted to slap it off of him. “Are you jealous? Why, you’re practically green!”
“Don’t.”
He grabbed your hands. “Y/N, trust me when I say that I would not want to come within ten feet of Yennefer if I had a choice. She’s an… old enemy. Very old worst enemy. And she could never compare to my favourite muse.”
You bit back a soft smile. “Jaskier, you’re sickeningly cliché.”
“But you clearly love it.”
At that you finally laughed, and a mirroring smile burst across his face.
“You’ll have me. You’ll always have me.”
And even still, the unspoken words of hurt lay between you two as you brushed back his hair, knowing far too well who he was thinking of.
“Jaskier, I will never be like him. I will never leave you. I promise.”
