Summary: Jaskier's been flirting with you for a while, but are you completely oblivious to his charm, or is something else going on?
Pairing: Jaskier x Female Reader
WordCount: 576
Prompt: “My hands are a bit cold. Mind warming it up for me?"
Warnings: N/A
A/N: 30 Days of 30 Drabbles for my 30th Birthday
Credit to cafekitsune for the banner and the divider!
Jaskier had heard stories of the Butcher of Blaviken; he’d heard stories of the Shieldmaiden who’d followed him. He’d often heard not to believe in others’ gossip. To never judge a book by its cover. Geralt was somewhat like they’d said—Grumpy, antisocial, brooding.
You, on the other hand, were nothing as they said you were. Yes, Jaskier had already seen you in battle, and you were every bit as skilled and deadly as Geralt. Yes, you can have a wicked tongue, especially when those attempt to oppose your loved ones.
Your tough exterior was nothing compared to your heart. You cared for Geralt deeply. The gentle touch was whenever you attended to the constant stream of injuries. The kind smile you exchanged whenever you interacted with a merchant or the public, even when they gave you a wide berth.
Jaskier began to understand why Geralt and you worked so well. You accepted Geralt for who he was. He was the stormcloud on a rainy day, and you were the sun, always pushing through the darkness, no matter what.
Perhaps that’s why Jaskier feel so hard for you. He’d fallen in love countless times, sung many ballads about love and heartbreak, yet none compared to the ones he wrote of you. He sang softly under his breath while he wandered behind you and Geralt. Jaskier’s heart felt full, his inspiration renewed.
However, there was one slight issue.
His attempts to win your heart had fallen flat so far. It had been rather disastrous.
Jaskier was confident in his abilities to woo anyone. He knew the subtle hints of seduction. He knew how to flatter, how to compliment? Yet nothing appeared to faze you. Nothing caught you off guard. A toughened and seasoned shieldmaiden. You smiled, rolling your eyes as if Jaskier was jesting.
Jaskier had never been more serious. Was there something in his tone? Was his flirtatious face humorous to you? What was he doing wrong?
Jaskier had one ploy left in his collection. It was, well, pathetic. Scraping at the bottom of a huge barrel. It was simple. It was pathetic.
Yet it played on your caring nature. It might just work…If it didn’t, Jaskier would have to ask Geralt for advice. That was scraping the bottom of the barrel.
But Jaskier was desperate.
“My hands are a bit cold. Mind warming it up for me?” You turned your head, looking back at Jaskier. You burst out laughing. Jaskier wasn’t expecting that reaction. He’d presumed you’d walked backwards and come to his aid.
“That was the worst one yet.” Jaskier stopped, flabbergasted. You’d known this entire time. Jaskier placed his hands on him.
“You’ve known I’ve been flirting with you.”
“Jaskier, you’re not subtle.”
“But-But why haven’t you said anything?” You glanced back at Geralt with a smile on your face.
“Geralt wanted to see what lengths you would go to.”
“You didn’t disappoint. Even I am better than that.” Jaskier was in disbelief. He’d fallen into a game between the two of you.
“Hold on. Did any of it work? Have you been swayed by my irresistible charm?” You moved to stand in front of Jaskier, a soft smile, taking his hands, which to your surprise were cold.
“Jaskier, you’ve had me since I caught you singing about me.” You let Jaskier’s hand, to turn around and walk away. He stood dumbfounded, before coming to his senses,
Request from anon: Reader is a princess who is betrothed to another noble who is probably twice older than her and during her engagement party Jaskier is playing and starts flirting with her? They flirt with each other all night then she asks Jaskier to take her virginity, because she would rather give it to someone she likes and trusts. Jaskier does and maybe at the end of the night he convinces her run away with him
Word count: 3k
Warnings: SMUT, 18+, oral (f!receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (please be safe peeps!)
A/N: I had so much fun with this one! It’s the longest fic I’ve written in a while and I’m still not 100% sure about my smut, but I had fun with this regardless. I just love Jaskier!! Hope you enjoy anon!
Being a nobleman’s daughter meant you had no choice over your own life. You couldn’t pick how to style your hair, what dresses you wore, how you decorated your room, who you spoke to, anything.
And you certainly couldn’t decide who you would be married to.
Your father claimed he was being generous in the lead-up to your marriage, as he was allowing you to choose the entertainment for the engagement party. He gave you a list of performers from across the Continent and you were allowed to make the final decision. You rolled your eyes as he rambled on about how generous he was being by letting you choose.
You weren’t at all bothered about what music would be playing in the background during the party that signified the signing over of your life to another man, but when your father gave you the scroll with the list of performers, the first name stuck out to you.
Jaskier.
You had heard of Jaskier the Bard before. He had quite a reputation for his songs about a Witcher he travelled alongside once. You had also heard he was easy on the eyes too, which couldn’t hurt. You were going to spend the rest of your life married to a man at least twice your age who looked much closer to death than anything else. So watching the bard perform for one night couldn’t hurt, right?
You didn’t need to read any other names to know who you were picking.
The day of the engagement party rolls around and you’re trying your best to look somewhat happy at the head table, but you just want it over with. Only once Jaskier appears do you feel any happiness at the situation. He makes his introduction to the head table, and thanks you all kindly for allowing him to perform for you before he prepares.
Jaskier absolutely lights up the room while he performs. He plays some songs that are well known among the crowd and gets big reactions, but also plays some new songs and the whole room hangs onto his every word. You’re so engrossed in his performance, you don’t recoil from your soon-to-be husband’s foul hand reaching out for yours on top of the table. Only once Jaskier finishes singing do you realise the weight upon your hand and pry it from his grip, giving a round of applause for the bard as he bows and thanks the crowd.
After his performance your father’s court musicians start to play some background music for the party, and you’re finally allowed to leave your table and mingle with the people in the hall. You know nobody in the room except your own father, and your soon-to-be husband, whom you’ve only ever met once previous to tonight’s party. So you approach Jaskier as he slings his lute over his back and approaches the drinks table.
“You live up to your reputation, Jaskier. Quite a triumphant performance.” You smile as you grab your own drink from the table beside him.
“My lady,” He bows to you immediately, “I’m glad I could play a part in the celebration.”
“Yes, and what a celebration it is.” You widen your eyes mockingly and grumble into your goblet.
“Is the party not to your liking?“
“Nothing is to my liking except your performance. You performing here was the only decision I was allowed to make in this whole affair.” You gesture to the hall filled with strangers.
“I must say I’m honoured that you chose me.” You notice he’s blushing slightly and you can’t help but smile at the boyish look it gives him. You’re drawn to his bright blue eyes which look at you with sincerity
“I’ve heard of your tales of wonderful adventures with Geralt of Rivia. I figured I’d like to hear them in person from you, as I doubt I’ll be adventuring anytime after this marriage.”
“How so?” Jaskier asks, seemingly genuinely interested in you.
“I’m being married off to Lord Estendra purely for the unity it will create between him and my father. And I assume the Lord will want a son to carry on his legacy, and he’ll need a pure host.” You scoff.
“The marriage is arranged?” Jaskier speaks solemnly.
“Indeed.”
“I’m truly sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for. If anything, you’ve provided me with my last little morsel of joy before I’m confined to serve my Lord until his dying breath. So thank you.” You smile despite everything.
“Would you care to dance with me, my lady? Push away the inevitable for just a little longer and enjoy the now?” Jaskier abruptly puts his drink down on the table and holds a hand out to you.
“It would be my honour.” You place your own drink down and accept his hand.
He leads you to the middle of the hall, where there are already some people dancing. A jovial song is playing and you skip and spin around the hall, and you imagine it’s what dancing around a tavern would feel like with all the village drunks. You can’t help but laugh as you and Jaskier move around the dancefloor.
When a slower tune plays, Jaskier sways you around effortlessly. You make mindless conversation as you sway and you study his eyes, trying to sear them into your memory so you can always remember them when you’re looking into the cold eyes of your husband.
“It’s a shame we met under these circumstances.” he laments earnestly.
“Perhaps you can write a song about me and I’ll hear it one day.” You smile up at him as you sway.
“What would you have me call it?
“How about ‘The Nobleman’s Daughter’? Since your Fishmonger tune gathers quite a crowd.” You asked with a sly smile.
“Well, I think that’s due to the rather indelicate subject of the song.” He responds with his own smirk and a wink for good measure.
“I think I’d quite like to see the looks on my father and husband’s faces at hearing a song like that and finding it is about their ‘pure and fair’ lady.” You press yourself against his body closer, not caring if anybody thinks it’s unseemly.
“What exactly are you implying?” Jaskier perks an eyebrow up, intrigued by your comment, but also trying to keep his cool.
You lean in close and speak lowly into his ear, “That you would whisk me away to one of the many rooms in this forsaken palace and take me to bed. Ruin me for the old man I’ll be married off to by the end of the week. I don’t want him to be the one to take my virginity from me.”
“I would be more than happy to oblige, believe me, but are you sure? You barely know me.” He’s surprised but intrigued by your forwardness.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. And besides, even after just this evening I already know more about you than the man I’m to marry.”
You sidle off the the edge of the hall, hand in hand, and after taking a glance around the room you sneak out of the large doors. Nobody is remotely interested in you, all anyone cares about is congratulating Lord Estendra on his conquest to find a young and chaste wife.
You take a quick look down each end of the long corridor and upon seeing nobody, you shuffle quickly along it to find the passageway to your room.
You reach your door, and push Jaskier in before you, taking one more quick look around the passage before following him and bolting the door shut behind you.
Jaskier stands in the middle of your room awkwardly, not sporting the usual nonchalance he would have in a situation such as this. He’s taken women away from parties and into their beds more times than he can count on his fingers, but this is different.
He’s known you for such a fleeting moment, but his mind is already filled with melodies and lyrics about your beauty and grace, and your wonderful personality and humour.
And your sadness.
His mind is filled with sadness at the thought of what your life will soon become. A loveless marriage you’ve been forced into with an old man who you don’t know. He wishes he could take you away from it all, but knows he can’t. But what he can do is give you this one night of pleasure to remember him by.
And just like that, he’s snapped out of his stupor. He looks over at you standing equally as awkward by your door and holds a hand out to you. You tentatively step towards him and place your hand in his. He tugs on your hand until you fall into him. You place your hands on his chest to steady yourself and he wraps an arm around you while reaching his other hand up to cup your cheek.
He dips his head down until his lips are ghosting your own and he stays there, letting you be the one to close the gap. You lean in and melt into him. Jaskier’s lips are soft as they move carefully against yours.
After a few seconds he pulls away and smirks as you lean into him to chase the kiss. He plants a kiss on the top of your nose and heat rises in your cheeks as he moves around you and starts to unlace your dress.
He moves your hair out of the way and plants a kiss at the nape of your neck as he makes swift work of your dress, and the chemise under it. Once they’re pooled on the floor beneath you, he moves in front of you again, looking at you in the thin underwear you’re now left in. You move your arms to cover your chest and look down, blushing.
“What’s wrong, love? Do you want to stop?”
“No, it’s just… sorry, I’ve just never been this exposed before.”
“My love, don’t be sorry. Here-“ Jaskier wastes no time stripping down until he’s completely naked and standing unashamedly in front of you, making you laugh at his brazenness. “Now if anyone should be embarrassed, it’s me.” He grins cheekily at the smile that has worked its way onto your face.
“You have nothing to be embarrassed about Jaskier, you’re beautiful.” You can’t help but reach out and feel his broad shoulders, and you find yourself squeezing your thighs together at the groan that leaves his throat when you run your fingers down his chest, raking your nails lightly over the hair littered over his skin. You blush when you notice his clear arousal at the sight of you too.
Before you know it, he’s capturing your lips again and removing the final pieces of fabric separating the two of you. All you can do is grab handfuls of his hair as he moves the two of you over to your bed. He lifts you up and places you softly onto the sheets. You stare up into those once oceanic eyes which now seem dark as night with lust, but still carry a lingering sweetness despite it.
“Are you still sure you want this? Want me?”
“Yes, Jaskier. I want you.”
He presses open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down your neck, and all you can do is lay there while he worships your body and litters your skin with kisses further and further down until he settles between your legs.
You lift your head and are met with the sight of those beautiful eyes staring back up at you and a mischievous grin on his lips. You gasp as he licks a broad stripe up your core. Instinctively, you grab a fistful of his hair as his lips wrap around your clit and he sucks greedily at you, taking all the pleasure you’ll give him. His tongue drops down to your entrance and probes lightly while a finger presses lightly on your clit, revelling in the noises escaping you. He spends his time working you up before pushing a finger into you.
Your strangled groan catches you off-guard and you heard Jaskier’s muffled laugh at your reaction. You feel him groan into you too, and you wonder if he is enjoying himself as much as you are. He pushes another finger into you and you relish in the feeling of the stretch.
“I suppose your fingers are good for much more than just strumming on your lute, dear bard.” You attempt at wit but just as quickly devolve back into moans and whimpers as his fingers push further into you and curl, brushing against a wonderful spot within you.
“I’ll wager I can make you sing just as pretty as my lute.” He lifts his head and smirks.
You didn’t think he could look anymore attractive than he already was, but the look on his face now drew the very breath from your lungs. His hair was all over the place from where your hand was still buried in it. His eyes were hooded with lust and his lips and chin were glistening with your arousal. He threw you a wink before diving back in, and now you could feel the pressure building as he worked his fingers and tongue quicker until you felt your resolve snap and Jaskier laps up everything you give him while you whine.
You’re panting as he crawls his way back up your body, planting kisses as he goes until he’s hovering above you once more. He captures your lips again and slips his tongue into your mouth and you moan at the obscenity of tasting yourself upon his lips.
“That was- that was amazing…” you breathe out shakily when he pulls away.
“Do you want to go further, because we can stop there if you want?” He carefully moves a bit of hair out of your face and looks lovingly down at you. You feel the weight of him on your stomach and find it sweet that he’d happily ignore his own need in favour of your comfort.
“I want you, Jaskier. Please.” You whimper and he’s kissing you to smother the noise as he notches himself at your entrance and pushes in slowly.
You grab onto his arm tightly as he pushes in the first time. He goes so slowly and stops once he’s flush against you, waiting for you to adjust and give him the go ahead.
He just about exploded from the feeling of being inside you. Yes, he’d fucked plenty of women in his time, but you were different. You were so soft and warm and inviting, and he could feel his heart hammering in his chest at the mere thought of how perfect you were.
“Move, Jas, please.” The little nickname spurred him on and he rolled himself in and out of you over and over until you were both sweating and panting. You wrapped a leg around his hips and it provided such a lovely angle when he continued to thrust into you.
“You’re so perfect, so perfect for me.” He rambled as he pressed his lips against your neck. All you could do was moan his name incoherently as he undid you completely.
You ran your fingers through his hair and tugged lightly, earning the most delicious groan from him, so you did it again and he rewarded you by kissing you fervently and snaking a hand down to find your clit and apply just the right amount of pressure to make your vision go white.
You clenched down on him hard as you found your release, and Jaskier followed suit quickly after, spilling into you before he even had the thought to pull out. You didn’t seem to care and he just collapsed down onto you, still inside you.
You both caught your breaths and Jaskier finally pulled out of you and moved to lay next to you. He looked at you and you were the image of an angel. You were glowing, and the look of pure pleasure was plastered over your face. He couldn’t help but lean over and press a sweet kiss to your forehead.
A weak “Thank you Jaskier.” was all you could muster as he lifted himself out of the bed to find a cloth to clean you up with. You were making no effort to get up and put yourself back together to return to the party so he climbed back into bed behind you, rather than making his usual quick getaway in a situation such as this.
He wrapped his arm over you and pulled you back against him, running his fingers over the skin of your stomach. He plants feather-like kisses against the back of your neck and shoulders and you sit in silent bliss for a while.
“Run away with me.” He murmurs against your skin and you whip your head around to look him in the eyes.
“What?”
“Run away. With me. I don’t have much to offer you, I’m but a bard after all. But we could find somewhere together, and you can have the life you want. You can choose what you’d wear and how we’d decorate and everything else you want.”
“Really?” His heart bursts at the innocence in your features and it only makes him more certain he won’t leave you here to the fate that’s been decided for you by your father.
“Absolutely. I apologise for being crude but fuck your father, and fuck Lord Espadrille or whatever his fucking name was anyway.” You chuckle as you find yourself unable to remember his name either, your mind too clouded with Jaskier to think of anything else.
“How will we leave?” you knit your eyebrows together and he presses a kiss over them until your features soften.
“I’ve snuck out of many castles in my days, trust me. It’ll be easy.” He winks and gives you his trademark boyish grin before hopping out of bed and getting back into his clothes.
You quickly follow suit, though on shaky legs as you change into a much simpler dress than the gown you had to wear for the party. Jaskier helped you pack your clothes and belongings into a bag and you took one final look at your room. A final look at your old life.
Then you turned and looked at Jaskier stood at your door. Your new life awaited you behind those doors with that very man. And you couldn’t wait.
Pairing - Jaskier x Reader, slight Geralt x Reader
Summary - Being Geralt's partner in all things monster hunting, the reader is given a choice when the Witcher argues with her favourite bard.
Warnings - Implications of sex, blood, wounds, season two spoilers!
Words - 4.2K
Italics = flashbacks
MASTERLIST
It had been a long few days. From leaving Kaer Morhen, to somehow running into Yennefer (who had taken the decision of capturing Geralt's oh so precious child of surprise) and now you wondered into Oxenfurt in search for a very certain bard. Though, as much as you hated so, the reason you sort him out was not because you happened to miss your ex-lover, but because he might know where Yennefer had wondered off to.
Of course you had found Jaskier in the local jail cell. You really hadn't expected anything more than that. However, it did mean you had to find a way around the guard which protected him.
One punch to the nose. A kick to his privates and the guard was on the floor wincing in pain. Enough pain in that you were able to slip the keys from his belt without him trying to stop you.
By the time you had reached the cell (and opened the door), Jaskier was already muttering some nonsense to the guard who was certainly not listening to him. "Good sir, you would not know talent if I shoved it up your-" He stopped completely as his expression seemed to shatter. "Oh my." Jaskier couldn't string many other words together than them two before he was rushing to engulf his arms around your body. "I knew you'd come back." You couldn't bring yourself to hug him back knowing the only reason you were here was for information on Yennefer.
Jaskier pulled himself from you, never letting you get a word in. "I should have know; you can only resist the Jaskier charm so long." He spoke ever so smugly. A part of you didn't want to say anything and instead just watch that smirk that was so blissfully unaware of everything.
You tried to smile back to him, though, it was more of a half smile formed upon guilt. "Jaskier," The name fell from your lips and nothing had felt so familiar. Instinct forced your hands to reach out, they lingered over his cheek, not daring to touch. "We need your help."
The bard had almost took a step back from you. "We?" As if planned, Geralt walked out from the shadows, standing in the doorway, glancing between yourself and Jaskier. The boy had scoffed first, "Geralt's here. Of course's Geralt's here."
He should have known.
When you first came across the humble bard, he was barely getting by. Strumming within a half-empty tavern, getting booed and forced from the podium he stood himself and his lute ever so high on. And when he followed you and Geralt out from said tavern, getting himself captured by elves, you couldn't help but feel in debt to him - even if it had been his own fault.
So you invited him along to the other many adventures you and Geralt took on. That way, Jaskier found a muse for his songs and ballads and you said you would have better company than Geralt's grunts and huffs. While both them things were truth, the real reason either of you had agreed to such was because there seemed a sort of glint in the other's eyes. Something small yet, drawing, as if pulling you in to what could be.
Something that you really tried to ignore. It was daunting. This idea that wasn't written out in front of you. It wasn't a monster of which you knew exactly how to slay. This was something gentle and loving which your mind didn't seem to want to comparand.
Jaskier, on the other hand, devoured his mind with that glint. Practically obsessing over this connection which he seemed caught with. And, unlike yourself, he found himself engulfed with love as he yearned ever so deeply.
"Do you do this often?" Jaskier had asked one night as the three of you huddled around the crackling fire, breathing it's warmth. You sent a hum in response, letting Jaskier know you were listening and waiting for him to add more context to his question. "Sleep in the woods? I personally prefer a nice Inn myself."
A smile graced across your lips as you glanced to the brunette who was seated next to you, a look of disgust painted over him as he examined the dirt ground for crawling bugs. "That's probably because you're not a monster hunter." You told him. You were almost certain you and Geralt had spent more nights sleeping on the cold ground than you had in a bed. Unlike the Bard who was, as he said, more used to the lovely Inn's.
"Well neither are you tecnically." He thought. "I mean, you're not a Witcher."
"She may as well be." Geralt spoke from the other side of you, the most he had added to conversation in the last few hours. But Jaskier was right. You and never gone through the trails Geralt had, but with a now dead knight as a father, you had always known how to swing a sword.
Jaskier felt caught off guard by Geralt's stern reply and shifted slightly in his place. "Ah," The boy let out as to try and bring the conversation back to something light. "How about some music?" Jaskier was already pulling his lute over his head and Geralt was already standing up.
"I'm going to bed." He stated before turning back to the two of you. "As should you two, we've got a long day of travel tomorrow." And with that, the man whisked off towards Roach to find the tattered blanket which was shoved in a bag.
You glanced back to the bard, defeat written all over him. Bumping his shoulder lightly, you fought to bring back his great enthusiasm that Geralt's words had stripped from him. "I think you would have had better luck at the Inn over Geralt." Jaskier was sure of that as well. "But he's right, sleep 'll do us some good."
And with that, you stood as well and continued the way Geralt had gone, wondering what had been taking him so long. Which left Jaskier alone. That had been when the bard realised, if he were to ever build upon whatever this was between he and you, he would have to separate yourself from Geralt. Which seemed impossible already. The two of you were like glue, stuck by the other's side. Geralt had never seemed to be the type, but you really were his partner in all of this. Yet Jaskier wasn't one to give in easy.
After a few more days of travel and a dead selkimore, you found a time to relax - and an inn. Well, technically, it was Jaskier's room that he had offered you to well, to bathe away all the dirty water and blood which littered your skin. And after a week now, you finally found silence. No grunts from Geralt or nonsense comments from Jaskier.
Just peace and quiet.
"You know, you'd think after everything I've done for Geralt," And there it was again. "He'd be ever so happy to repay me back with one tiny little favour-" Jaskier stopped his ramble there as he finally came wondering into the bathroom. "Oh. You're still- You're still bathing."
You tilted your head at the boy, his idiocy never failing to amaze you. "And you're still looking." You watched as Jaskier's eyes glanced from your eyes, to your chest then snap back up to your gaze once more.
Eyes widening, he jumped and stumbled over his words. "Right, sorry." He mumbled before spinning on his heals and turning to face the other way. "In my defence, I assumed that after all this time, you were finished."
With the roll of your eyes, you gathered yourself from the tub. "Well, you assumed wrong. Takes more than an hour to get the insides of a Selkimore off my body." You reached for the robe Jaskier had provided you, wrapping it around your body, despite the fact you were pretty sure you still had patches of blood littering your skin. "What's this favour then?" You questioned as you walked past Jaskier, alerting him you were no longer naked.
To which, he followed after you as you searched for your clothes as to clean them in the water as well. "I've been asked to perform at another one of Cintra's courtly gatherings." The boy waved his hands around at that to exaggerate the royalty of said event. "And my small favour was only that yourself and Geralt escort me to said gathering."
You turned from the bed to look at the bard, brow raised in question. "Why would you need an escort?" Jaskier didn't need to answer that; it only took a moment for the penny to drop. "Ah. You've been roaming around in all the married noble Lady's beds." Of course he had. You walked over to the boy as to continue your words, only inches from him. "I say: You got yourself into this mess-" You paused as the tip of your finger prodded against his chest. "-You can get yourself out of it."
With that said, you deemed your decision made and returned back to searching for your clothes - something which certainly wasn't where you had left them. Jaskier followed right after you. He was like a pet, always lingering around, always in need of something. "Do you and Geralt not have the slightest bit of sympathy for me? I mean, what if something bad happens and your favourite bard gets hurt." He pleaded.
A plead of which had only pulled a smile at your face as you glanced to him. "I'm sure 'my favourite bard' will be fine."
Jaskier huffed, "Please." This time, his tone was stern, not fluffed through begs and persuasion. "There's no changing Geralt's mind but performing at this banquet could be a real career advance for me, and that's not going to happen if I get knocked out before my second number is it?"
As much as you tried not to, you took pity on him. And as you looked into the bard's soft pupils, you found nothing but good intention. "Fine." Jaskier practically jumped before you had even gotten the word out.
A wide grin spread across his face and before you knew it, his arms were wrapping around you. "Thank you!" He pulled from your just slightly, letting his hands rest over your shoulders. "At least out of both you and Geralt, it's good to know one of you has a heart." He smiled back at you once more and you couldn't help but feel just a little spark in that you had been the source of the smile. "You know I was beginning to think I was actually going to have to go to this alone. That would have been terrible, all the-"
"Jaskier." You cut in as, once more, the penny dropped.
His gaze shot to yours and he swallowed as he caught the change in your expression. "Yes?"
"Where did you take my clothes?"
And so you attended this royal banquet in a dress and Geralt in a sort of casual suit. You had never worn a dress before and never particularly wanted to. Yet, it seemed, when it came to the request of the bard, you let a few things slide.
Yet, angry lords had not been the worst of your problems that night. Instead, all hell seemed to break loose. Two marriages, a lifted curse and a child surprise.
And Geralt walked away from it.
He thought if he were to ignore destiny, it would simply go away. No matter how many times you tried to get it through his thick skull that it wasn't going to happen like that, he just pushed you away. The man searched out more monster's to entertain his mind and to give a distraction for everything that had taken place in Cintra. You and Jaskier there right beside him as he did so.
Currently, the three of you were on a hunt for a dragon. The only reason Geralt had even agreed to it was because of Yennefer, the mage who had seemed to capture Geralt's eye, was on said hunt as well. It was a long journey. One of which you were only half way through. As morning came on what should of been your last day, you sneaked into Jaskier's make-shift tent Yennefer had conjured up for each of you.
To no surprise at all, the boy snored lightly beneath the sheets still. For a moment, you let yourself smile at the peace which was settled across his expression. In dreams, there came no worries of battling a dragon or trying to speak sense into a Witcher friend. And you wanted nothing more than to leave him be. But with Jaskier being the only one yet to wake, you'd rather be the one to do so.
You wondered over to the empty space on the bed which laid next to him. "Jaskier." You spoke, voice soft and quiet but you were close enough to him for it to be heard. Yet still, he did all but slightly stir in his sleep. "Jaskier." You called again, only a little bit lounder than before. He stirred a bit more and groaned ever so lightly but still, he slept.
You thought on it for a moment before shuffling down so that you were face to face with the bard. From there, your hand only had to reach out slightly as to brush against his hair, gently pulling him from his dreams. And, soon enough, his eye lids fluttered open. A few seconds of silence passed. Jaskier didn't want to break this; he didn't want to hear you go on about what the day held. A part of him just wanted to be here with you, without any worries passing between either of you. But them few seconds were fleeting.
"Good morning, bard." You greeted him with a tender smile, having yet to move your hand from the boy's soft hair.
"You really did just have to wake me from such a wonderful dream."
Your smile grew, "Oh I am so truly sorry for that." You paused, salvaging this moment you shared between Jaskier. There seemed very few moments you had with the boy which were interrupted by Geralt or some other creature. "Did you forget about the dragon we're meant to be slaughtering?"
The gentle expression that once laid over Jaskier moulded into one of disgust. "Did you have to use the word slaughter?" He asked.
"It's true!" You argued back.
"Everything's so depressing with you, monster hunter." He spoke. To which, you gave no reply. And suddenly, with the silence which had devoured the conversation, things shifted. It was as if all the light jokes were nothing but things to fill the thoughts which circled your mind. Something of which Jaskier had caught quickly. "What is it?" He queried the second your gaze dropped from his and your finger tip stopped tracing his skin.
You were hesitant at first, but the moment you eyes met Jaskier's again, that hesitation washed away. "For the first time, I have no idea what Geralt's thinking." You guessed that was what happened what you suddenly became bound to a child.
For once, Jaskier couldn't string together the right words to comfort you in your troubles. So, instead, his forehead leaned against your own for a moment before he pulled away as to press a gentle kiss to your temple. And that had calmed you down more than any words could have. "What Geralt does is not your responsibly." Jaskier assured you. Which was only more reason for you to then lean your lips into his. A sweet moment - something of which you didn't come across often.
"What is taking the two of you so long-"
Like you said: it was rare you and Jaskier could ever get moments together which weren't interrupted in some way or another.
You jumped from Jaskier, eyes widening as the boy shot up with you. "Geralt." You greeted, more out of surprise than a greeting but still.
"Does nobody practise the privilege of privacy anymore?" Jaskier questioned aloud.
"We about to leave. Hurry up." Geralt paused as he glanced back over to you. "Both of you." He added as if knowing the reason for Jaskier still being in bed was you.
But with that, the Witcher left. The second you and Jaskier looked to another, you seemed to both break into a flood of laughter. Which was really the only reaction suitable to what had just taken place.
You had yet to find the right time to actually inform Jaskier as to why you had scouted him out. Which would explain why the three of you were led down to a small lake where Jaskier had been quick to jump ahead of both you and Geralt. "Here," He spoke out to you. The bard gave you no chance to reply before shoving his coat at you. From there, his bloody shirt was tossed the side and the boy submerged himself beneath the water.
You glanced to Geralt, "How about you let me do the talking?" You requested. The man looked back, almost offended or confused as to why that was needed. "Need I remind you of the last conversation you had with him?" With that, Geralt shut up.
"You two are the professionals, how do you get blood out of a shirt?" Jaskier called out, the wet shirt hanging from his finger tips as he awaited your response.
"Stay here." You instructed Geralt before dotting across the stones which led into the lake. "Jaskier,"
The boy looked up at you with a smile. The same smile you had recalled all the times in Kaer Morhen when you had longed for his company once more. Jaskier leaned in just slightly which his cheeky grin. "Yes, Y/n?"
You thought for a moment, whether to fluff everything up with small talk or flirting, but as you glanced back at Geralt, you were given a reminder; time was running out. "We weren't lying when we said we needed your help." You watched slowly as that grin started to fall, piece by piece. "Where's Yennefer?" And finally, it fell altogether.
Jaskier stared back at you before he scoffed to himself. "You only came back to me because you needed information." The boy soon realised. "I can't believe for a second I thought maybe you had put your own wants before Geralt's. Or for once, put me before him." He snapped, thoughts of which were just spilling from his lips.
"Jaskier, we need to find Yennefer. Once you tell us where she is then you can yell at me all you want, alright?" You tried to reason.
"And what about me? Was there no reason to find me after all this time?"
You thought for a second, wondered if he could ever understand how much you had yearned for him while you laid in a cold empty bed. Or when you ate dinner alone because Geralt was out training Ciri. But, as you said, there was no time to argue now. You could very well do that later when a girl's life wasn't at risk. "You didn't capture Ciri." You told him, breaking through the little information Jaskier had yet to receive.
"Geralt's child surprise." The bard spoke aloud, glancing to the man who still stood far behind you, waiting for this to be over with. "I don't know technically where she is. Only that she said some like mantra and puffed away." Jaskier finally explained, just as confused as you were.
But still, he went on and both you and Geralt were able to work out Voleth Meir had slithered her way into Yennefer's mind. With that now known, the three of you gathered everything you needed and went to continue your search.
But, of course, Geralt caught you just before you started walking. "And you thought I would make things worse." He commented as he glanced to the boy that was already walking ahead of you.
"Well you were the one who very impolitely asked him to fuck off." Which was why logic told you that it was more reasonable for you to talk to Jaskier over Geralt.
"And you were the one he loved."
You had awoken the next morning late and alone. And by alone, you really were. No dwarves, no Witcher, no Jaskier. It urged you from your tent, searching through the mountain. Which had been when it dawned on you: not only had the dragon been killed, but a lot of other things had gone to shit with it.
First you passed Yennefer, to scared to interfere with the horrid expression which was written into her face. Then Jaskier. He had only just turned around, walking away from Geralt. Again, from the expression he possessed, it didn't seem like he had just had a positive conversation. "Jaskier," You called to him. He slowed and at the sound of your voice, Geralt turned. "Are you alright? What happened?" You glanced back and fourth between the bard and Geralt. Something had obviously happened.
Jaskier did all but scoff, "Ask your partner over there." And with that, the boy shoved your shoulder and made his return back up to camp.
Once Jaskier started walking, Geralt turned his back on you again. It seemed you had no other choice than to join the side of the man to dig into what the hell had gone off. Neither of you looked at the other. Instead, your gaze was pulled by the view which settled bellow the mountain. "What did you say to him?"
"What we've both been thinking."
Your brows furrowed, "Well please, tell me what that is Geralt because over these past few months I have not been able to work out your thoughts on any of this." You replied, as honest as you been for awhile now.
Geralt gave you one of his huffs and grunts before continuing. "That he is a drain and that we were much better before he starting following us like a lost pup."
"That's not true, Geralt and you know it. I invited Jaskier in the first place-"
You were about to go on but the man couldn't help but interrupt you at that. "Only because you were blinded by love."
A laugh slipped effortlessly from your lips at that. "The only reason we are stood here right now is because of you strange infatuation with Yennefer!" You snapped back. Once that was out your system, you relaxed and glanced back at the man. "Look, you're speaking from anger. Just go back and apologise to him before you regret it. Please."
"No." Jaskier was right when he had said there really is no changing Geralt's mind. "I'm leaving straight after this. You can come with me or not. But I am packing my things and then I'll be gone."
And so you returned to camp with a choice looming over your head. Before you had even made such choice, you went straight to Jaskier. Whether it was a goodbye or not, your mind urged you to see him after whatever words were shared between him and Geralt.
The boy had been in the midst of packing his lute away and gathering scraps for the walk back when you joined him. "Hey," He greeted first, soft in his tone the moment he adjusted to your expression and the water which lingered in your pupils. And when you couldn't bring yourself to say anything, his arms were already wrapping around your shoulders. "Hey, it's okay, it's okay." He lulled into your ear.
With his chin resting into your shoulder, he spotted the Witcher making his way back to camp as well. He could piece two and two together. "What did he say? What's going on?" The boy questioned just as you had questioned him not long since.
Your gaze became fixed to the ground. "He's leaving now, with or without me."
"Don't go with him." Jaskier spoke almost too quickly.
"What?"
He shrugged, "I'm planning on finding some town, one with a tavern where I can play all my brilliant songs and live in the shitty room upstairs. Come with me. Don't make me do it all by myself." He explained, a life of which you had yet to live painting itself within your mind. "Please," Jaskier went on as his hands brushed a stray piece of hair behind your ear. "A pretty lady like yourself shouldn't be hunting monsters forever."
And as you stared back at the boy, it seemed that was all that you could ever want. But, still, it wasn't you, it never was. "Jaskier, I have known you for only a fraction of my life compared to how long I have known Geralt. And while that fraction was wonderful and loving, hunting monsters is my life, somehow. And, I guess, so is Geralt."
You could barely bring yourself to look at him. But, when you did, he seemed broken, his eyes watering just as yours had. "I'm sorry."
Jaskier shook his head and stepped out from your touch. "No, there's nothing to be sorry for." He said before beginning to wonder off.
"Jaskier!"
He kept walking all while your feet stood completely still. All you could do was watch him walk away.
▹ Summary: You and Jaskier were built to fall apart, yet you continued to come back together.
▹ Notes: .... :) This took so long and was requested even longer ago, but uh, here it is!
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ
It had been the first month of spring when you’d first met Jaskier. It was in a nameless inn located in a backwater town far north. He was bargaining for work while he and Geralt were in town, all you wanted was a drink and some rest. During that week, you’d ended up getting far more than you’d bargained for. Jaskier was wild and fun, not at all prone to brooding and fits of melancholy. You laid in that bed that was too small for two hours on end. Laughing, joking, and talking about anything and everything that came to mind. Though most of the time, your mouth was occupied with things other than talking.
You'd opened Pandora's Box. It would only make things messy and painful when the inevitable happened. The world was dangerous enough, and you weren't talented enough to save two instead of one. You never should've even entertained it, but you were selfish. So you did, and the last time you'd seen Jaskier, you'd been drenched in rain that mingled with your tear stained cheeks. He never looked back, it seemed all too easy to shake you off.
You'd like to think he would've stuck around, but you never gave him much reason.
And what should’ve been done and over with still lingered like cheap perfume, even after six months. You couldn't shake him no matter how many bottles you emptied. Every nightmare held quiet moments, all soft smiles and glowing eyes. And when you woke, all the complications, fears, and hesitations melted away. Melancholic tinged rose colored lenses made everything seem so much simpler.
There was just you. And then there was Jaskier.
It made you believe that things could be different, that maybe, just maybe, it would work out.
Or maybe that was the burn of the whiskey going down your throat. Sitting alone at a nameless bar in a forgettable town you drank away your sorrows.
Suddenly he was there. Bathed in the warm glow of candlelight that made him appear ethereal, Jaskier. With his lute in hand, he strummed a note that cleanly rang through the room. His baby blue eyes shone like a clear sky, a stark contrast to the storm brewing in yours. He gracefully made himself the center of attention, patrons making a clear path for him. They were already enraptured and he’d only just arrived. Center stage and commanding the attention of the room, he opened his mouth, singing with that angelic voice.
Dumbfounded and off-guard, you watched, frozen in place. Everything you'd wanted, the person that haunted your every being was right in front of you. It felt like a dream and a nightmare all at once. He was a star that kept burning you.
He seemed unaware of what he had done to you, not even aware you were in the room. Or maybe he had and simply didn't care. Perhaps you were just another woman that stole his heart for a brief moment. And then he went off and fell in love with someone new.
The barkeep poured you another drink and you slid him another coin, but your eyes never left Jaskier, captivated by the way he moved around the room. You’d nearly forgotten just how effortlessly he managed to control a crowd. How easy it was for him to garner their attention and never let it go. He worked them much the same as he'd worked you.
He sang a total of four songs before taking a break. You never moved from the bar, continuing to drink until you couldn’t remember why you were drinking to begin with. So unaware of your surroundings, you wouldn’t notice if there was a war going on outside.
“Y/N?”
You turned, glancing over your shoulder. Jaskier was there, mouth agape and eyes wide. He looked as if he’d seen a ghost. He slung his lute over his back, gravitating towards you. Your posture straightened, eyes never leaving his. There was a glimmer of longing that sparked in his eyes. And it gave you a shred of hope, that maybe, just maybe, he missed you too.
“Jaskier,” you said. It was like someone had shoved cotton in your mouth, tongue tied and throat dry.
“I-- I never thought I’d see you again,” he said, taking the chair beside you. He didn’t ask and you didn’t object. "But I desperately hoped to."
“Well, here I am.” You weakly smiled, hazy mind quickly sobering up as the smell of bergamot, lavender, and a mix of spices filled your senses. You breathed it in, making sure to commit his smell to memory.
“And I’m glad for it.” He turned to the barkeep and ordered a glass of wine.
“Where’s your Witcher?” you asked, but you didn’t move your eyes from him, afraid he’d disappear if you glanced away for even a second.
“Finding the nearest brothel. It would appear he’d prefer paid company over mine,” Jaskier said, feigning offense. You laughed, the sound more akin to a snort. Jaskier smiled at the action, leaning towards you. It was a microscopic change, but you noticed it. You noticed everything he did.
“So nothing has changed?” you asked.
“Nothing has changed.” Something about the look in his eyes and the grin on his lips made you think he wasn’t just talking about Geralt’s disposition. The glimmer of hope grew bigger, nearly as bright as the scones illuminating the curves and edges of his face.
“Truly, even if Geralt’s need to keep everyone at arm’s length broke your heart?” You leaned closer, not as subtle about it as Jaskier had been.
“I’m too persistent to be run off so quickly.”
You swallowed thickly.
“Even if it doesn’t last forever?” Your voice was soft and timid, a far cry from your normal brashness.
Jaskier glanced down, his smile dimming ever so slightly and your smile mirrored his.
“Most things don’t last forever.”
Hesitantly, scared you’d read this whole scene wrong, you reached a hand out, resting it on Jaskier’s leg. He didn't move nor protest, so you kept it there.
“Now, let’s not squander our time together with sadness.”
In an instant, Jaskier did a complete 180, returning to his sunny disposition. If he felt any pain or sadness, he didn’t show it, so neither did you. Hours were spent in the tavern, laughing and drinking. It was as if you hadn’t spent six months apart. As if you hadn’t broken both Jaskier’s and your own heart.
Eventually, the night ended with the two of you drunkenly ending up in the room you’d rented, all tangled limbs and whispered words. You didn't sleep together, both too exhausted to do more than sluggishly kiss every inch of each other's faces before collapsing into the bed.
Jaskier wrapped his arms securely around you, your head resting on his chest. The beat of his heart was like a lullaby that lulled you to sleep. His fingers combed through your hair as you traced shapes onto his skin.
“Tell me you’ll be here when I wake up.” Jaskier’s voice was pleading and soft. It caused a lump in your throat and a pit in your stomach.
You deigned to not answer.
When the first rays of light hit, you were already awake. When the first rooster crowed, Jaskier woke, and when he woke it was alone. You’d already snuck out of the room and hit the road hours ago. He couldn’t find it in himself to be too disappointed and you couldn’t find it in yourself to be content with your decision.
‘It’s better this way.’
You weren’t sure you’d believed that anymore.
oOo
Emerald leaves turned gold and the warm summer breeze became bitter winds when you saw Jaskier next, nearly 4 months later. It was another tavern, he was performing another set, and you were four drinks deep before he’d even arrived. Your hair was shorter while his was longer.
But it felt like no time had passed when you first glanced at him. That first glance was the only one you could bring yourself to take. Shame had a firm grasp on you. Because he’d probably look at you with that easy charm and warm smile. He'd act as if your last meeting didn’t end with you running like a thief into the night. You'd prefer anger that you wouldn't receive. He was too understanding, too empathetic, and too...optimistic.
Six songs and three more drinks passed before he approached. He hardly seemed surprised to see you and you wished the ground would swallow you whole. There was an empty chair beside you that he claimed, ordering the wine he always did. He didn’t speak and neither did you.
“Funny seeing you here.”
Jaskier broke the silence first.
A huff of a laugh left your mouth, eyes locked on your drink.
“Can’t decide if I’m following you or you’re following me,” you weakly muttered. An attempt to cover your discomfort with humor.
“As a partaker of the arts, it is my duty to follow things of great beauty so I may make songs about them so people all over the realm can experience what I have.” He leaned closer to you.
You shook your head and smiled down at your drink.
“You wrote songs about me?” you asked, sparing a glance towards him. Only your second of the night. His blue eyes glowed with the light of a thousand stars. A single glance and any trepidation was burned away. Back in his honey trap, you were done for, again.
“You’re all I can write about, nowadays.” As he spoke with near reverence, you had no choice but to believe him. It made your heartbeat against your chest, head fuzzy and light, but not from the alcohol.
You needed to change the subject before you fell under his effortless spell completely. Though, that effort was already a lost cause.
“Where’s your Witcher now?” you asked, excepting some quip or another. Jaskier’s smile faltered, eyes dimming considerably. Something happened, something that not even Jaskier could bounce back from.
“We decided to go our separate ways,” was all he uttered. It seemed you and Geralt were more alike than initially anticipated. Seeing as you both tended to hurt the people around you.
Another pang of guilt hit your chest. Silence followed the uncomfortable kind that made you squirm in your seat. When did things with Jaskier become so…awkward.
‘Maybe after you left him…again.’ your inner thoughts chimed in. Those thoughts were pushed aside.
“I’m a fucking mess,” you blurted out before fully processing you’d spoken aloud. You clamped your mouth shut and returned your gaze to your drink. Grip so tight around the glass it turned your hand white, your face burned with embarrassment.
“I won’t argue that,” Jaskier said with a slight chuckle and shake of his head.
“What are you even doing here?” Your words were more forceful than anticipated, but you didn't take them back.
"Well I'm performing--"
"Not here as in this inn, I mean here, as in with me? Why are you sitting here with me right now?" you asked, Y/E/C eyes unwavering from his blue ones.
Jaskier slowly nodded, his smile turning more somber than it had been.
"Just uh, hoping for a happier ending I suppose," he mumbled, words nearly lost to the crowd.
You'd heard him, but wished you didn't. It only worsened your guilt.
"Why?" you asked, voice hardly above a whisper.
"I don't think I'll ever feel the same way I felt that week we spent together," he confessed, cheeks turning a pale red.
"That was almost a year by this point. Surely you've met other people?" you asked, disbelief mingling with uninhibited giddy.
"But none compared to you," he said in an almost wistful tone. "Both in the way you mend and break my heart simultaneously."
“I don’t know why I keep doing that,” you glanced at him, mouth set in a frown, eyes wide and sad. It was the most vulnerable and innocent you'd looked since you took up adventuring alone.
“Oh, I think you do,” Jaskier said, a self-effacing grin on his face. “It’s the same reason that I keep giving you the chance to leave.”
You shut your eyes for a second, gathering your dizzying thoughts.
“It feels like we were built to fall apart then come back together,” you said, the rim of your glass resting on your lips.
“Oh and I thought I was the poet,” Jaskier said, nudging his shoulder against yours. You huffed a laugh, deeply drinking from your glass.
“But I don’t want that,” you said, and after a moment passed, opened your mouth again. “Which is ironic since I’m the one who keeps making it fall apart.” A self deprecating laugh left your mouth as you took another shot of whiskey. It burned, but it felt good. A distraction from the war in your mind.
“That's true you do keep leaving,” Jaskier said, lips getting looser the more he drank. The smile on your face faltered as you rested your cheeks against your hand.
"You never asked me to stay, not when we first parted ways," you pointed out, tracing a finger along the ring of your glass.
"I didn't know you wanted me to ask," he said.
You swallowed thickly, lips downturned into a frown.
"But I would like to note, I did ask you to stay last time we met," Jaskier said, a finger pointed in your direction.
"I suppose you have a point." Your posture perked as a tentative grin returned to your face. “God I’m so stupid.” You rested your head against your hands.
“Oh I think we’re both incredibly stupid,” Jaskier said. His voice light and eyes bright as he watched you. “So how about a toast, to two idiots who can’t get it right.” He lifted his glass in the air, motioning for you to do the same.
“To two idiots,” you echoed, gently clanging your glass against his.
The rest of the night became more of a blur the more drinks that got poured. At some point, you ended up where you always did, back with Jaskier. So tangled together you couldn't discern where you ended and he began.
oOo
Sunlight trickled into the room, the sheer curtains in the room doing nothing to block it. You were warm, arms firmly wrapped around your body, locking you in place. Slowly, your eyes opened, the edges still hazy from sleep. The distant echoes of patrons in the tavern below disturbed the quiet. Jaskier was still fast asleep, seemingly content to sleep through the day.
For a moment you contemplated running as you had before. But those thoughts were banished before they could fully form. You were done with running and done with hurting people in an attempt to save yourself. Not much of a life it was if you were leaving everyone at arm’s length.
Like a lazy cat, you stretched your body, rolling on your side and burrowing your face in Jaskier’s chest. A contented sigh left your mouth, eyes shutting once again. You heard a yawn, Jaskier’s chest vibrating with the sound.
“Hmm, what--” he began to mumble, voice thick with sleepiness, but then cut himself off. He blinked, once then twice. You were still there. Really there and not a figment of his imagination.
Seemingly contagious, it was your turn to yawn, eyes opening and meeting his afterward. He simply stared, speechless. In response, you gave him a grin, small and bright.
“You stayed.”
Your hand gently cupped the curve of his cheeks, leaning close enough that your nose tickled his.
Summary: Jaskier gets himself hurt and turns to the one person he always goes, where he feels safe.
Warnings: blood & alcohol mention, angst, fluff
Word count: 2277
A/N: I haven't written anything in English in quite some time, only started again recently, since I'm not a native speaker, and I also haven't done anything fandom related as well. This is new terrain for me somehow, but I had this prompt and had this idea in my head, so I had to write it down. I hope you enjoy this <3
It wasn't the first time that you were taking care of him, but it was the first time, that he was bleeding. Sure, there had been small cuts on the back of his hand, a bleeding lip, minor injuries, but nothing like what you were looking at now. It must have been some kind of animal that had slayed his back, maybe a human, but as soon as he started to explain, you said: “I don't want to know.” Seeing him like this was bad enough for you, so you didn't want to hear the whole story. To be honest, you could already imagine what had happened. After all, he tended to get himself in trouble every now and then, and even if he was out and about with someone who was an excellent fighter, could wield his sword like no other, Jaskier seemed to get caught in the crossfire every now and then. He normally knew that it was best to take cover, to get out of harm's way, but... well, it didn't always work out.
In fact, Jaskier had met you some time ago after the Witcher - or the sword-wielding maniac as you liked to call him – had been badly injured. They'd been sent to your home, because you knew how to handle these kinds of injuries, but their sudden entrance had still shocked you, since they hadn't knocked, rather nearly broken down your door. Once you'd seen Geralt's injury you'd understood their haste, but in the end they'd repaired your door and paid you for your duties, so you'd been appeased. Since then, you always had to smile when the two of them appeared at your door anew and asked: “What is it... another scratch?” That was what Geralt had called his injury, though it had been way more than that and he knew it as well. At least, your question manages to elicit the hint of a smile from the broad-shouldered man.
There was no Geralt to be seen right now, which worried you. The two men were so close that you hardly ever saw Jaskier alone, so this was a rare occasion. Not that you fancied seeing him in this condition, quite the contrary, but some questions arose. You'd said that you didn't want to know what had happened, but your thoughts ran wild in your head, increasing your worries. “Sit still,” you told Jaskier, carefully peeling the fabric from his injured back, because you needed to see the bare skin to take care of him. Jaskier hissed in pain, and you bit your lip to keep yourself from telling him that this was just the beginning.
“Where's Geralt,” you eventually questioned, risking a look at his face contorted in pain, before you looked back at his back, peeling the last bit of clothing away.
“He's with his... friend. Though we both know she's not just any friend,” he said through gritted teeth, keeping his eyes firmly shut. He didn't deal as well with pain as Geralt, but he was sure he would manage. Either that or he would pass out, which was okay with him as well. A way to escape this situation, because he was a little embarrassed in front of you. It was one thing to bring Geralt here or let your rub some herbs on a his hands or legs depending on what injuries he'd endured. But this? This was different, and he should have known better. “I got myself in trouble.”
“I can see that...” And still, you did'nt want to know just what exactly had happened, because if it hadn't been an animal, you would probably go out and chase after the bastards that had done that to Jaskier. “Sit still,” you admonished him again. This would only hurt more if he kept fidgeting around like this. Of course you understood, because he was in pain, but you didn't want to make him endure more than he had to.
“I'm sorry.” Jaskier's voice was quiet, but in the next moment, a grunt left his mouth when you poured some alcohol over his wounds. You winced as well, because you didn't want to hurt him, but if you didn't do this, his wounds would get infected.
“No need to be sorry...” Well, you weren't thrilled about him being in pain because of probably some stupid action, but at least he'd come here to get the right treatment instead of thinking that he would be able to deal with this alone. He wouldn't need to get this stitched up, it would heal by itself, but the wound needed to be cleaned and treated to avoid an infection. “Please... sit still. I know it hurts, but this has to be done.” Your words only earned you some mumbling that you couldn't understand, but you weren't in the mood to press him on the matter. In the end, it wasn't anything determined for your ears anyway, and you were sure that he'd regret it later, should you find out just what he'd mumbled to himself. After all, you were already busy enough with worrying about him and trying to calm your own thundering heart. What had he been thinking, worrying you like this. Though, to be fair, he hadn't picked up on the way you were looking at him as far as you knew, and it was probably better this way. He was bedding different women all the time, something you knew, something that should steer you away from him, but it didn't. It didn't because you had no control over your heart, that was always picking up its pace when he was close.
“Drink!” you ordered offering him a sip of alcohol to make this more bearable. One sip wouldn't have an impact on the blood flow, so this was still safe. With a wet cloth, you carefully dabbed at his back to finish up cleaning his wounds, but he moved again, aggravating you to no end by now.
“How many times have I told you already? Sit still!” It must have been the tone in your voice that finally managed to get him to sit still, leaning with his chest against the back of a chair, clutching the bottle in one hand and taking another sip, before he kept still for the rest of this procedure. This was easier for your to treat him, and less moving meant less pain. Once you were finished, you could bandage him up and let him turn around. “Your face doesn't look that bad,” you said reaching for a new cloth again to clean the blood and dirt away.
“Yeah, would be a shame if anything happened to that pretty face.” He was clearly feeling better since he was attempting to joke around again, though you had to say that it really would be a shame. You liked looking at him – and you liked him, but admitting that wasn't on the table for now – and you knew for a fact that there were a lot of women out there, who enjoyed looking at him as well.
“Don't worry, you'll look as good as new and you'll be out and about chasing after young beautiful women in no time.” With a smile on your lips, you looked him in the eyes before returning your focus on the rest of his face to see if there were any more injuries in addition to the cut on his lip. It pained you to say it, but it was the truth. You didn't like it, but still you put on a smile despite everything going on inside you, jealousy gnawing at your bones. No man has ever made you feel like this.
“Nah, I think I'm done with that. After your heart has chosen one woman, there is no room for others.” His hand reached for yours that was just now reaching for some potion you'd made yourself that you could put on his bruises.
“Oh that's news.” For a moment, you looked at your joined hands, feeling your heart stumble a little at the touch. Even before today you'd felt this at small, innocent touches that shouldn't have meant anything. Like him taking your hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it to thank you. But it did. It was becoming worse now, though you wouldn't call it a bad feeling, just something that would likely lead to trouble. Something that settled in the pit of your stomach and spread a warm and fuzzy feeling through your whole body. “That must be one lucky lady that has captured your heart.” Which was why you thought it trouble to feel the way you did at his touch.
Instead of letting go of your hand, he turned it around and kissed your palm softly, lingering there for a moment all the while not taking his eyes off you. “That's something you'll have to tell me.”
“I think you're getting a fever. Or that's the alcohol talking. How would I know?” Did you know that woman? Hopefully not, because just thinking about this tore at your heart, that had been so worried about the man right in front of you since he'd stumbled into your home, that you couldn't bear thinking about him with someone else right now or you would collapse. Knowing he was bedding different women here and there was one thing, because you knew that it was lust not love. But knowing that there was someone holding his heart right now was a different thing.
“You know,” he started with a chuckle pulling you in his lap, which completely surprised your and it showed on your face. “For someone so clever and brave, you're sometimes extremely slow.” Before you could protest or yell profanities at him – a thing you'd perfected especially since knowing him and Geralt – he spoke up again. “There's only one woman who's been taking care of me, who's been tending to my injuries and has slowly woven her way into my heart... and I'm looking at her right now.”
“Oh...” Well, he was right. No need to yell at him. You weren't sure whether your heart was beating so fast that you couldn't feel it any longer or whether it had stopped altogether. Was this some kind if dream? It certainly felt like one, because being in his arms felt so right, like you'd finally found that missing piece that you'd been secretly searching for all your life. “Y/N...” Hearing your name from his lips made you look up into his blue eyes that seemed to look straight into your soul. You weren't able to say anything right now, all your words failed you. But you didn't have to say anything at all when he cupped your cheek and captured your lips in a kiss. A sweet kiss that was followed by his hand slowly stroking from your cheek to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss.
That moment didn't last long, though, when Jaskier broke the kiss and hissed in pain against your lips. At first, you thought you'd done something wrong, but before you could even say anything, he spoke up: “Guess you can't kiss all the injuries better, but it's probably worth a try.” The cut in his lip was starting to bleed again, which was due to your kissing, but he didn't regret anything. Neither did you. Instead, you chuckled to yourself and carefully wiped the blood away.
“I can certainly try, but I think your lip heals better without doing what we were just doing.” The puppy eyes he gave you made you shake your head with a grin on your face. “This won't work. You need some rest and after some sleep, you'll feel much better. I have something we can put on that cut.” And you would feel better once he got some rest and you could watch over him.
“Only if you lie down with me, Y/N. That will be the best medicine you can give me.” There was nothing you could say against that, and in addition, you would feel a lot better after this ordeal, lying next to him and keeping a close watch over him. In addition, you didn't really want to leave his side, his arms anyway right now. Not after knowing how good it felt to be this close to the bard.
Would you be interested in writing a Jaskier x Reader where the reader is in the middle of a nightmare? Her yells wake Jaskier up and he tries to wake her and finally he comforts her because she's a bit of a blubbering mess while she comes down off of her nightmare scare. Thank you!
yes amazing thank u anon dearest im here for this !!
At first, Jaskier thinks he's having a nightmare. A haunting, shadowy sort of nightmare that's burrowed into his mind and is overriding all his senses: you're screaming, in pain, and there's nothing he can do. His muscles are wound up so tightly they might snap, and they grow louder and louder, into a full crescendo...
And then he wakes, bleary-eyed and slightly confused, the fire outside almost blown to its embers. His jaw aches.
It's not the dim lighting that reveals anything, though. It's that your screams haven't disappeared, despite his certain consciousness: it's like a Kikimora has clawed at his heart, long, sharp claws tearing him to shreds.
He instantly turns to you, catches the beads of sweat glistening on your temple, the crumpled blankets in your fists that he almost feels sympathy for. Every now and then, your whimpers morph into a more desperate cry, a call for help, that Jaskier believes was much louder when he was asleep.
His blanket scrunches into a log by his feet as he scrambles across to you, hands hovering over your shoulders because he's heard that you shouldn't wake up someone having a nightmare. Or is that sleepwalking?
Another cry slices into his heart and he's had enough. He puts a hand to the side of your neck, and one on your shoulder, squeezing lightly and whispering your name. Over and over, like a spell that will pull you back to him and away from whatever hell is flashing behind your eyelids.
His hand on your neck migrates to your cheek, thumb pushing into the flesh and gently massaging: the face is more sensitive, you must be more likely to wake.
Your eyebrows knit together, unhappy wrinkles settling into your forehead as the frightened whimpers return. Jaskier doesn't know what to do, afloat in an ocean subject to a storm, and is about to find Geralt for a potion when--
A strangled gasp interrupts the previous rhythm of sounds, and your wide eyes meets Jaskier's, your hand flying to grip his wrist. Jaskier wants to utter something like a hallelujah, but the thought escapes him when your breaths sound full of pebbles, and fat, hot tears emerge from the corner of your eyes and fall past your temples.
There's hardly a hint of recognition behind your eyes, but with a hand cupping the back of your head and one on your shoulder, he hauls you upright and sits you against something hard. Your shoulders shake and you cover your face with your hands.
Your nightmare rewinds in the heat behind your eyes, seared into your mind's eye. The darkness provides no comfort, your hideout in your hands holding a toffee-like heat, dripping through your fingers and trapping any oxygen from coming through.
Through the sticky heat of your hands comes a voice, a familiar voice that melts away some panic, enough for the light to seep into the gap. You hear your name, and drag your hands from covering your entire face to just your mouth.
You're met with Jaskier's loving eyes, his eyebrows threatening to cross. His hand is on your knee, thumb swiping along your patella, as he looks for an opening.
"Oh, darling," he whispers. "It's gone now, see?" He gestures around the both of you. Sure enough, nothing from your nightmare is anywhere in sight. Just you and Jaskier. And somewhere else, Geralt, probably.
"It's just us here. You and me. Oh, please don't cry," he shuffles next to you, pulling you into his chest. You grip the soft fabric of his shirt tightly, as if he's going to slip away the moment you let him go, and you'll be dragged into the depths of your tortured mind once again.
"I'll fight it. Whatever it was, I'll get rid of it," he says in a low voice. "Better yet, I'll set my guard dog on the monster. Geralt's had a lot of practice." Your soft sobs are interrupted by a hiccup of a giggle, and Jaskier begins to relax.
"There she is," Jaskier's glad when you've let it all out, two hands on your face to really look at you. You offer a small, tired smile, and he leans in to kiss the tip of your nose. When he releases you, you sit as close to him as possible, arms overlapping.
"Bad dreams can be a real ball ache," he says lightly. You hum in agreement, still shaken.
"Thanks for waking me," you say leaning on his shoulder. He grabs your hand and squeezes tightly.
"Always. Will you be okay to sleep soon?" He asks.
"Soon," you nod. "Not yet, I think," you inhale deeply. "Can I stay with you? It's fine if not, I just--"
"Of course you can," Jaskier interrupts, kissing the back of your hand firmly and lingering. His breath skips across your skin, and you feel grounded.
Yay!!!! Requests are open!! Can I request a smutty Jaskier x female reader with the new look that will be in season two, please? 🤤🥵😍 thank you so much!!
My Sweet Maiden
Summary: after searching far and wide for Jaskier after Geralt reprimanded the bard away, you finally manage to succeed in uncovering his whereabouts, and not much has changed, except from everything at the same time.
Pairing: Jaskier x reader
Warnings: 18+ minors dni, smut, unprotected sex, vaginal penetration, some angst, mentions of the devil.
Word Count: 3927
Masterlist Link
“You’re so beautiful.” He spoke, and you felt your heart thump in your chest as you exonerated in the notion of his words that were not only his most recent, but the first that he had ever said to you. Bt you had abandoned Geralt to find after he was demanded away. People seemed in tune with the lyrics that patrolled out from his talented mouth, the dumping of his companionship clearly giving him many an emotion to express through his lyrical vice. The time of which it had been since you had seen him felt like decades, such as though throughout the years he hardly aged a singular day; but it had been months of you sprigging into action to uncover his whereabouts, and finally, you had found him.
He no longer looked clean and perfectly cut, he was a masquerade for his own suffering, and you were keen to join. The song of the witcher and tossing a coin to the snow haired individual no longer was of musical usage; he paid only his own debt of walking that long and gruelling journey with the emotionless house of stone. As he once had done, his body moved with each beat that surpassed his lovely lips, he swayed and swirled upon the bar’s ground, possessed by the muse that perused in the mindset of when he had written this song. My Sweet Maiden it was named, you remembered him singing it to you as you lulled to sleep. Within the lines of converted feelings, he spoke of a woman of which had shown him that to be sweet and cheery and a hook on a man’s arm was not a purpose at all for a lady, especially of the skill set that she carried along with her.
Your weapon weighed heavy on your belt loop as you blinked back fields of water that dared to block your vision. This combustion of breaking down stereotypes and falling for someone that did more than pick flowers made your heart beat profusely; instead it ranged from how she wielded her sword and accompanied the devil, walking beside his horse. It was in concern of you - you were the maiden of which he spoke of, and whilst no blush patterned your cheeks, an irregular thumping impacted the interior of your chest. To say that you had missed the brash and occasionally foolish bard was an understatement, your entire being longed to be with him, which is why you left the cold Judas and his steed to continue their path without your attendance.
And it had all amounted to more than something as you realised that you had done it, you had found Jaskier. And as he strung one last chord upon his chivalrous lute, an applause from hand and mouth raced through the main room, and the jester like character bowed, showcasing the feather that perched as a red streak along the side of his flamboyant hat. Though your heart sunk as he delved towards the bar, and began to prowl towards a woman, he hadn’t even noticed you but he was returning to his reckless and cruel ways, you felt as though someone had removed your own dagger from your purchase and struck you with it time and time again. But you didn’t come all this way to accept that you had lost him, nor that he didn’t want to be found, so whilst he ordered a beer to be poised in his hand, you slunk through the dispersing crowd, and joined his other side.
“Leather, how average.” You spoke as you crossed your arms, and instantly his mind processed your voice whilst he took a sip from the glassware that had been handed to him, and ejected the liquid onto the woman beside him, whom he had intentions with that you wished to remain silent. But it sprayed upon her, a tragic expression of offence painting her features as she half screamed, and planted her hand across his cheek, storming away with anger and leaving Jaskier all to yourself, to which you obviously did not mind. “Jeez calm your fedora, it can’t be that much of a shock that I’m here, unless of course you count the witches I’ve had to kill, the armies I’ve had to avoid, and that pack of whatever they were I had to behead.” A smile bestowed itself onto your face, almost making you look angelic which was rather ironic considering the words that your mouth had just spewed.
With the back of his hand the bard wiped his mouth, removing the excess alcohol that he had wasted and would blame you for. “It’s more of a shock that you left Geralt to his own devices, I thought you wanted to know the witcher ways and die bloody in battle.” He had a strong case there, that had been exactly what you had wanted when you joined forces with the white wolf that strode along the world by his lonesome, however as time would tell, your own desires had changed. Shifted even to something completely different; it wasn’t your death where your wants should be concerned, and whilst it would still be an honour to die for something that you believed in, there was no point in focusing all of your attention upon that, not when you had discovered something far more meaningful; he had been like a cockroach, latching onto the taste of fresh air and freedom, taking inspiration from the sights and people he saw. And now he was here, far from Posada and where your collision of conflicting personalities has endured over the starting line.
“I didn’t count on meeting you Jaskier, or should I call you Julian because that is what the sign outside says. I thought I knew what I wanted, but then you left and it was too quiet, I hated Geralt for what he did, though I was relieved that you were to be safe from monstrous harm. As soon as I realised that my mind rattled with the lack of your symphonies and annoying phrases, I vanished from his side, he likes being alone but i don’t, I missed you more than I would have ever anticipated.” Jaskier closed his eyelids for a simple second, allowing himself to sheathe into momentary pleasure from feeling your breath fan against his chin as you ogled up at him. His hand fidgeted against the container of liquor, and thus he put it down, and as he opened his eyes the fields of blue were revealed to you, and you found yourself mentally running through them, as you had done in your dreams so many times. He cleared his throat before he prized you with a response, the singing clearly have taken some kind of toll on the box that was contorted in such placement and wrapped in flesh and skin.
“Can we go somewhere more private?” Usually he was always on a roll for speaking publicly, no ones opinion concerned him, but now his old life that he had been so desperate to have was tumbling into the new one that he had built for himself, he continued to be charming, however if you looked close enough you could see that he was scarred by the toll of everything that he had witnessed; dragons were real, so many things existed of which he repeatedly had nightmares of. And if he had not delved into his passion for moulding words together to create entertainment for the countless ears that tuned in on his aspirations, he surely would have gone crazy, like a mad hatter toppling down into a rabbit hole head first, and losing himself forever in the depths that he could just not conquer. The extraction that he had performed by removing himself from Wonderland, albeit by demand in theory was the counter offer he had inclined himself to by joining you and Geralt, protected his sanity, but it also broke his heart in more ways than one.
There was no second question or a need of an answer, you followed him as you planned to do for as long as you could, even if that meant that you would not die a hero, and instead your death would be invalid and have no reckoning of influence across the political and physical wars that strived the worlds and knocked down each plantation of civilisation. And thus the pair of you idly strolled through the side of the bar that performed the role of being an inn; you supposed that he was leading you to the room that he was currently undergoing paying rent for, and as his hand steadied to wrap around the handle that was of darker pigment than door itself, but before he could unveil it ajar and offer you pass inside, with a firm grip coiled around his inner elbow, you swerved him around and pressed him up against the wall beside the entrance. It seemingly surprised the bard, catching him off his oblivious guard and quite literally casting the air out from his lungs, his azure eyes widened as they had been doing the entirety of the time that the two of you had reunited, and he was rejoiced with the sight of your eyes squinting in a sultry regard up at him.
The lust engrossed in your eyes was a grave temptation, he felt his knees even shake a little as his veins swooned with impulsed adrenaline. He had awaited for this, the response of reciprocated attraction that you now endorsed towards him, you had been rightfully straight with him from the start when you had shot him down, however over time the pair of you had formed a regressive bond that neither of you were quite able to shake. You weren’t his usual type of lady, they usually had husbands and copious amounts of coin wedged in their bed spreads, and in comparison you went from job to job to earn a few gold here and there so that you could continue travelling and slaying those that wished to reap harm upon innocent villagers. “I don’t know whether you noticed but we are quite close.” He stammered, shaky breaths abandoning his lips as he squeezed his legs together, feeling his cock twitch from the prospect alone. But alas you indeed did notice, more so since you were the one that instigated the proximity that had his heart hammering like a robin smashing a walnut against a thick oak branch. Slyly you licked your lips, gazing unlawfully up at him with flavour of intimate intrigue; you had waited so internally long to be in this compromising position with him, and now that it had arrived in due time, you were sure as hell about to make the most of it.
“Oh, I did.” You cocked your brow as you ran your hands down the lapels of his shoulders, noticing how they shuddered lightly under the feather light contact. “And I’m not going to be one to complain, as long as you don’t skiddadle off again, no one is demanding you away Jaskier, most definitely not me. I had to walk for miles without your irritating voice and composed words in my ear, I plan to not go a step without either again. Now stop being a fool otherwise me or anybody else may mistake you for a jester, and kiss me before I get bored of simply standing here and waiting for something to commence between us.” It didn't require much convincing before his lips feathered down the little way that separated the pair of you, and thus he moulded his lips against your own like dilute clay, creating a renaissance piece of art that would permanently remain engrained within your mind, it was something that both of you had awaited to happen for so long, him being less patient than you, however now that the collide had taken place, it continued to feel like everything else around you would smoulder without either one of you paying a taste of notice. Begrudgingly you pulled away, as your hand pried into his pocket, and he assumed that you had no other intention other than to feel him up through his fashionable slacks, but he was soon disappointed as you pulled the key of which he had forgotten all about out from the disaster zone of storage which had the occasional coin here and a loose pin there inside.
"For a moment there I thought you were about to rob me; I mean it wouldn't be the first time." His hand callously draped over the revelation of his carpeted chest, the curls moving beneath the pads of his fingertips as he strode into the room, his shoulders jumping as you kicked the door shut behind you, and as he turned around he felt defeated by the sight of you discarded your well tarnished battle clothing. Each notch was undone through the ravels of leather and slipped through and out of the bear trap of the buckles that held his outfit pristinely together, but you were careless to both the expense and the appearance as your main goal was to have the bard clothed in nothing but his own flesh. You rolled your eyes sternly at his words, quite literally stealing his breath as you started stroke the material off from his shoulders, your hands sinking to a location lower by his delicious v line. “Yeah well, don’t tempt me, otherwise your lute may end up in a river by an old hag’s cottage, and we both know that you don’t have the balls to go that close to a potential monster and retrieve it.”
“Hey you’re not the only badass here, I’d get it back.” You fixed him pointedly with an unimpressed look, clearly not believing a single word that he spouted. “Okay, I’d get you to get it back for me, since you clearly adore me so much. Ow!” He yielded his voice as you pinched his hip, catching him off his guard as you retaliated against his words, although he spoke nothing more than the truth, but you weren’t one to get particularly sappy and he knew that, the most that he was getting out of you besides getting bedded were your earlier sentiments, to which you weren’t going to be too soon on repeating, and that was one thing that he was aware to. And he was completely and utterly fine with that, hearing you say that once was more than enough, and now he was left to revel in this intimate moment with you as you continued to dismiss the outerwear that covered your flesh, abandoning it on the floor as you were left in nothing more than your undergarments of which consisted of some cotton panties and bandages that kept your breasts glued to your chest.
"Would you please stop talking?" He'd always had a problem with running his moth in ways more than one, and with every word that he spoke it had your mind constructively thinking which was the last thing that you wanted to do. All that you had intentions of doing was to get lost in him, from beneath as you watched his sapphire eyes excerpt a series of emotions that reflected in your own spherical orbs. Jaskier became quite speechless as you dropped the last of your garments, standing utterly and shamelessly bare before him as your hands massaged the tension that Geralt had left in his shoulders; they were like stone, stern and solid, cemented out of the rejection that everyone that he had ever cared about always eventually showed him, but you would not become one of them, you would never shame him for being himself in this land of phoneys that pretended to be people and regiments that they in fact weren’t.
“You’re so beautiful.” He spoke, and you felt your heart thump in your chest as you exonerated in the notion of his words that were not only his most recent, but the first that he had ever said to you. Back then you hadn't swooned from them, but right now a smile wide and bright graced your lips as you pulled him down to adjoin you in a passionate kiss, your fingers flicking that hat off from where it rested upon his hair and then they travelled down, courting the red lapel material off from his shoulders and onto the floor. "Thankyou for not leaving me. Everyone else does and I thought that I'd never see you again, I thought the next time that I saw you it would be you stumbling into whatever bar I'm performing in, and you'd turn around as soon as you caught a glance at me." He really did not understand the concept of not speaking, though you couldn't blame him, he had many a worry and a grudge to get off from his chest, no strangers would listen to him, they never did. When the two of you were nothing more than that his words were like echoes of the wind flying by your ears, and time had clearly changed as now you were attuned to every one of them.
"Don't thank me, I came after you because I am a selfish woman. I wanted to be with you, no matter the cost." You were sure his eyes were lingering on one of the many scars that adorned your body, he said nothing however you knew that if you hadn't earned them through your treacherous battles you'd never have met him. "And none of those money snatchers know what they gave up, you are far by one of the best men I have ever met. No one else can quite talk their way into an elf prince giving them his lute, but you did. And whilst you upped the chances of us getting killed, it would have been an honour to die by your side, far more if it were some valiant noble other than you. You make things difficult, like now with all the clothing that you are wearing, but maybe I'm just drawn to making life a little harder by giving up the one that I tried to live for something far easier."
"So you want me to take my clothes off?" Really, that was all that he had learned from what you had spoken? Of course it was not but it made you laugh, more so as he struggled out of the layers of fabric as though he were a creature being birthed from an egg. "My sweet maiden, would you care to join me on the bed?" Jaskier asked once he were too naked entirely same as you, his hand was outstretched for you to take and you accepted as you walked to the mattress that had ravelled many lovers upon it before yourselves, your back touching it as the brunette crawled atop of you steadying his weight so that he wouldn't accidentally crush you beneath him. "I have waited for this for so long." He whispered, and you were not sure whether he were speaking to you or himself, though what he had meant was not only to proceed to intercourse with you, but to have sex that was meaningful and was not a rash excuse for pleasure. Your hand stroked along his cheek making him lovingly flutter his lashes as his hips hollowed down upon your own.
"Then what are you waiting for?" Was your reply that was enough to motivate him to continue and steady himself in his own hand, slipping the tip through your folds and then he entered you, causing a wither of captured words to get stuck in your throat. It was like fire had brandished your body, you knew the feeling, and it ran throughout each sector of it like a sickeningly sweet addiction, cursing you out for having performed such a sin several times before marriage. There wasn't much to say other than the road got lonely, and it only felt more so when the bard had been scathed away by the heartless beast, and now you were complete from the reunion that you had undergone and had lead to you in this amorous position. "Shit." Your throat reaped out the cursive language as Jaskier began to move, he clearly knew what he was doing as you had expected which was a large relief for the both of you. No sweet maiden as he liked to call you as a rebellion of whom you really were would utter such a shameful word, and with an explanation provided it was nothing but honesty to say that you weren't one. There wasn't a man in all the lands that would see you as wife material, instead you were a muddy puddle that they stepped in that they wanted to kick out from the indoors.
"You feel amazing." His lips puckered down the length of your right arm as his hips bucked into your own, his hand either side of your calm and relaxed head as you lulled in every sensation that his body provided to yours. His pace jousted faster as you felt the bed wince from the motions, but you didn't care for the creaking that resonated around you, the fanning breaths of intoxicated pleasure that subsided through each vein within the room, your own hands pummelled his back by puncturing your nails into his shoulders causing him to hiss out of the mixture of pain and pleasure, and that did not get him to stop. If he even dared to do such a thing you'd be driven mad, alike to how you were now but less happy and much farther away from the high that was spiking like a needle within your stomach, puncturing at the flesh within and testing your limits of how long you could continue to hold on. Not much longer was the answer, it had been many moments since you had been last with a man or woman, you had wielded them away as you dealt with your feelings for the bard since denying such emotions had not pivoted well in settling in your mind.
"I'm close." You warned him, to which he only drove his sheathed cock deeper within you, as though it were a race to make you finish, and in some concept it were, for he wished for you to cum before him. And that was exactly what he managed to do as a hitch in your tone rang out through your last external moan, he lasted not even a minute after revealing that he had been staving off releasing inside of you so that he could allow you to condemn first place within your title. A whimper contorted out from your mouth as he removed himself from within your walls, rolling off of you, but it was soon extended to a hum as he pulled you into his arms, your sweat continuing to mix under the circumstances of which had just taken place. Through tired eyes, you resented and bore them open despite your fatigue, pressing your chin into his chest as you observed his peaceful appearance. "I will never leave you Jaskier. I am here for good, so where are we travelling to next?" You enquired, earning a mouthful of how he was performing before a noble, and like a sweet maiden you listened, but you were not any sweet maiden, you were the bard's and thus that meant something else entirely.
summary: in an effort to make geralt notice you, you ask jaskier for help but soon find yourself in a new predicament.
contains: sort of fake dating but not really. wee bit of angst and mostly fluff.
word count: 1.2k
a/n: alexa, play ‘kingdom dance’ from the tangled ost.
“what should i do first?” you ask jaskier as you meet his big blue eyes, uncertainty evident in your own. “laugh at a joke? punch your arm playfully? grab your ass?”
jaskier chuckles at that, glad you still have your wits about you and your jokes to distract you from what should make for quite an awkward evening. you see, it had been a couple days since you’d asked jaskier to lend you a hand. your crush on geralt wasn’t going away as you’d hoped it would and you decided you’d simply give in and get him to notice you. this was where jaskier came in. he’d happily agreed to flirt with you, (even more so than usual) and make sure geralt noticed just how much attention you deserved.
which is how you found yourself here, jaskier’s hand on the small of your back, anxiously waiting for the band to play the next song so you could dance.
the song currently playing is slow, and far too dull for your taste. “well, you could start by shooting my ears off.” he smirks. “this band is rubbish, i should’ve played tonight.”
“and leave me here to my own devices?” you tease, giving the bard an exaggerated pout.
“hm, i suppose not.” he says as he gives you a fond smile. “can’t seem to say no to you, can i? s’how i ended up here in the first place.”
“oh, hush and be my wingman, jask.” you laugh, not registering the way you in fact end up playfully punching his arm.
“ah, you forgot to grab my ass, dearest.” jaskier informs you with an absolutely straight face, inevitably sending you into a fit of laughter. it’s then when you catch sight of the witcher, brooding off in the corner of the tavern. he gives you and jaskier a small nod, and you both wave with the enthusiasm of small children.
“alright, he’s seen us.” jaskier says to you, excitement in his eyes. “it’s showtime!”
the band finally begins to play a more lively song, and jaskier wastes no time in whisking you away from the bar and onto the dance floor. you link your arm in jaskier’s and spin around, clinging onto him as you dance like your life depends on it. is geralt watching? does he see how happy you look? how happy you are?
it’s then when you’re pulled away from jaskier, as you notice everyone begin to switch partners, and you’re not sure what to make of the sudden ache in your chest at being apart from him.
the song begins to pick up pace. your eyes are trained on jaskier as he glides across the room, alternating between partners just as often as you. he dances giddily, but you can’t help but notice his furrowed brow as he searches for you in the small crowd.
you can pinpoint the exact moment he catches sight of you too, for his eyes light up and crinkle above a smile.
as the music finally comes to a crescendo, you’re once again thrust into a set of arms, and you don’t need to look up to know it’s your jaskier. but you do. you do, and his hair is tousled from all the dancing, his chest rising and falling, his eyes on you. they’re always on you.
he leans down to whisper in your ear, and you aren’t sure what you were expecting him to say, but it surely wasn’t, “i think he’s looking at us.” your mind is racing, not sure what exactly he’s on about.
“what? who?” you ask. jaskier’s brow furrows, looking at you like you’re insane. “geralt, who else?”
that’s when you begin to come back to earth, to the reality that this is just an act, a show being put on for someone else.
“are you alright?” jaskier asks. “you seem a bit off.”
“no, i’m fine.” you assure him. “ready for the grand finale?”
he nods in response, taking your hand in his. it fits so perfectly, you can’t help but notice. but you’re pulled away from your thoughts as jaskier draws you in closer, his eyes never once leaving yours, not even to make sure you’re in geralt’s eyeline. that’s when he places a hand on your cheek, speaking with his eyes, a silent “is this okay?”. you nod, and he kisses you like a man starved. no gentle beginning, no easing into it. he begins in the middle, and you can’t shake the feeling you’re just now catching up.
it’s late. late at night. late to speak up. just late. you lay in bed, replaying the events of the evening over and over again in your head, finding that your stomach flutters when you recall jaskier’s gentle touches, or his infectious laughter, and you don’t dare think about that kiss as you’re sure that if you do, you’ll run straight across the hall and into his arms for more.
how silly of you, orchestrating all this just because of a meaningless crush. you try not to beat yourself up over having been so blind, but the more you think about it, the more frustrated you grow. you’re not even sure if geralt even saw you dance or kiss, and frankly, you don’t care.
how deeply in your thoughts you are, as you barely register the way your hand curls around your doorknob and suddenly you’re in the hallway, mere feet away from the bard’s door.
you hold your hand up to knock, frozen in place. what if he has company? what if he doesn’t feel the same? should you leave? act as if everything is okay? luckily the decision is made for you, as the door is swung open to reveal a somewhat disheveled version of jaskier, his hair in disarray and only in his trousers and undershirt.
“jaskier.” you squeak, not sure what your next move is.
“yes?” he asks a bit too quickly before clearing his throat and composing himself. “did things go well with geralt? are you coming from his- you know, i don’t need all the details, you could just summa-”
his incessant babbling is silenced with another kiss, this one much more tender than the first.
“so i take it didn’t go well?” he teases, and you land a light smack on his shoulder.
“i’ve been a moron, jask.” you sigh apologetically. “a blind moron.”
“i was planning on getting you some glasses since you didn’t seem to see how fucking whipped i am for you but i see you’ve finally seen reason.” he quips, gently pulling you in closer by the waist. “after a while i just assumed you noticed and didn’t care so i just kept quiet.”
“wow, that must’ve been a real stuggle for you.” you smirk cheekily. “being quiet isn’t exactly your forte.”
“oh, you can’t imagine the torture.” he sighs dramatically. and suddenly the cheeky atmosphere shifts as his eyes take you in. your hair is down, and you’re in nothing but your chemise and silk robe. “speaking of torture, did you come all the way across the hall just to remind me how beautiful you are and leave me here or would you care to join me?”
you roll your eyes at the comment before replying. “i would, but no funny business.” jaskier nods and smiles wider than you think you’ve ever seen him smile, shutting the door behind you as you enter the room, and anyone passing by would surely hear the unbridled laughter and joy coming from the pair inside it.
