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#'oh yeah he likes that one bard song about the horse - I swear he loves horses'

stonecoldsilly · 4 years

Text

Domestic Bliss

Chapter One - The Bonds Of Matrimony

(( TW: lots of swearing, lots of derogatory but joking uses of the word 'fat' ))

Geralt is sitting at the bar about three bottles down when Jaskier walks in behind him, and as soon as he smells that familiar lemon-polish and honeysuckle scent, he looks about wildly and genuinely considers jumping the bar to escape. He really does just want to drink alone and be miserable for a bit, but Jaskier will insist on cheering him up, and what’s worse is that it will probably work too.

Jaskier spots him and makes his way over, but he doesn’t look his usual bouncy self.

‘One more for me and my pal here,’ he says to the innkeeper, and pats his shoulder in greeting before sinking down onto the stool next to him.

‘Fuck off Jaskier.’ Geralt says, and Jaskier just stares him down.

The innkeeper returns with a fresh bottle, and Jaskier says waspishly ‘Actually, just my drink, if you don’t mind, see, I thought this was my good friend Geralt, but I’ve mistaken him for whoever the fuck this miserable twat is. I’d cut him off if I were you, those Witchers get a bit bitey when they’ve had a few.’

The innkeeper looks between them, nervously.

Geralt sighs. ‘Fuck off, please?’

‘What crawled up your arse and died? I only left last week.’

Geralt looks into the bottom of his empty glass and contemplates his place in the universe solemnly. Jaskier relents eventually and beckons the innkeeper back for a refill. When the innkeeper fucks off again, Geralt downs his glass, and Jaskier leans closer.

‘Come on Geralt, talk to me.’

‘I went to see Yen for a few days, but she kicked me out this morning. Said she was done with me.’

‘Oh, fuck buddy, that’s rough.’ He snags the bottle and refills their glasses. They look at the drinks. They drink the drinks.

After a suspiciously long silence Geralt looks at Jaskier, who is slumped on his stool, not even attempting to catch the gaze of any of the pretty girls eyeing him.

‘What about you?’ He tries.

‘The Countess said about the same thing to me, what, about half an hour ago?’

‘Fuck.’ Says Geralt, as sympathetically as he can manage.

They look at the drinks. They drink the drinks.

Geralt is sunk deep into appreciating the little corner of sullen silence they are radiating when Jaskier slams his palms on the bar and hisses ‘Fuck this.’

‘Jaskier-‘ Geralt tries, valiantly, to cut him off before he reaches full steam.

‘No seriously, fuck this! We are two of the most attractive men on this thrice-accursed Continent, those fucking bitches…we didn’t need them anyway! I mean look at you, you’re decent enough when you’ve had a bath, you’re great in the sack, you’ve got all your own teeth, what’s not to like?’

‘Thanks.’ Says Geralt, drily.

‘Throw Roach in to sweeten the deal and I’d marry you in a heartbeat, I don’t know what’s wrong with that witch.’

‘We always end up fighting.’ Geralt says, glumly.

‘Yes, and we always end up fighting as well, but I wouldn’t be stupid enough to kick you out of bed.’

Horrifyingly, his eyes feel a little damp at the reassurance.

‘Thanks Jaskier, you’re a good friend.’ He manages. ‘You’re pretty great too, as well.’

‘I’m the best fucking bard Oxenfurt has ever seen!’

‘Too right,’ says Geralt, warming to the subject. ‘And you have your teeth as well.’

‘Don’t have a horse though.’ Jaskier looks rather dejected at the thought, and Geralt slaps his own palms on the bar.

‘Hey, you’ve got your lute, haven’t you?’

‘Marissa said she’d rather listen to a badger being waxed than any more of my songs.’

Geralt is struck with a deep and intense surge of fellow-feeling for the Countess but hides his laughter in his glass before Jaskier catches it. The bard swings his leg morosely, kicking at Geralt’s already scuffed boots under the bar.

He offers up his own lover’s parting words. ‘Yen said she’d portal me straight into the sea if I showed up again.’

‘Gods, what a world.’ Jaskier looks even more upset at this, and horrifyingly, tears start brimming in his eyes. ‘It’s just not fair Geralt, you poor sod, I really thought you and Yen would work out.’

‘Hey, Jaskier…er…don’t cry.’ He pats his shoulder but that only makes things worse.

‘You both liked black so much!’ Jaskier wails, downright weeping now.

He’s seen Jaskier on the outs with his Countess before, and it usually manifests in the poet vacillating wildly between outright misery and righteous fury. Come to think of it, Jaskier’s seen him through a few of him and Yen’s more turbulent patches as well, but they’ve never managed to sync up before.

‘Hang on a minute. They don’t know each other, do they?’

‘What, Yennefer and Marissa? I dread to think. They both like to stick their noses everywhere they can, that’s for sure.’

Geralt lets that rather terrifying thought slide, and flags down the innkeeper again, rummaging for Jaskier’s coin purse at his hip. Jaskier lets him, well used to sharing everything they own save their shoes, if only because Jaskier has remarkably dainty feet.

Jaskier perks up when the drinks arrive, and Geralt lets him, reasoning that if at least one of them is miserable at a time then the evening won’t be too bad. He sighs, but Jaskier is relentless.

‘You know what we should do?’

‘What?’

‘We should go dancing.’

‘What.’ He says flatly.

‘Dancing! You and me, painting the town red. C’mon, like the good old days.’

‘When have we ever danced?’

‘Exactly. You never take me dancing. I love dancing. I used…I used to dance with Marissa.’

Tears threaten to spill again, and Geralt hastily agrees before Jaskier starts bawling properly.

He downs his drink, and completely fails to notice Jaskier’s grin as they leave.

Three taverns, four inns, and what appears to be a secret speak-easy later, Geralt is treading beyond pissed and tipping straight into the drunkest he’s ever been. Jaskier dangles off his arm, very thoroughly danced with, covered in remnants of makeup and looking flushed and debauched. Jaskier passes the pipe back to the kind prostitute he found, and they are commiserating about lost love and smoking their way through what looks like an entire bag of pipeweed while Geralt watches the room spin and hiccups into his enormous cocktail of spirits.

‘And then, I said, of course I’d marry him, the daft sod.’ He tunes back in to hear Jaskier yelling in his new friend’s ear while she nods fervently, although how an ordinary human can hear anything over the thumping music and shouting going on, he has no idea.

‘Why don’t you?’ She screams back, and Jaskier grins wickedly and kisses her hands fervently.

‘Good idea!’ He bellows back, and turns back to Geralt.

‘Geralt!’

‘I can hear you, you don’t need to shout!’

‘Gerallllllt.’ Jaskier sways towards him. ‘Listen, listen, listen, yeah? Fuck. Those. Bitches. We don’t need them, not even…not even a little tiny bit. Me and you, the lads, yeah? Fuck them, right? We should get married!’

Enough alcohol has reached his brain that the idea sounds absolutely hilarious.

They stagger back through the cobbled streets to the inn, hours later, arms round each other’s shoulders and making very little progress.

‘I’ve still got a pair of her knickers.’

‘You sad cunt.’ Says Geralt.

‘All I’ve got left in the world. Pair of her knickers. Not even good ones.’

‘Stop fucking whining. D-don’t need her anyway, you’ve got me. And Roach.’

‘Because we’re married!’ Jaskier shouts, and then turns on him. That familiar gleam lights up in Jaskier’s eyes.

‘Geralt, I’ll give you ten crowns. Right here. Right now.’

‘Go on.’

‘If you put them up there.’ And he points to the flagpole next to them, proudly displaying the flag of the Free City of Novigrad.

‘Fuck off.’

‘Nah go on. Ten crowns. Get yourself a new pair of...fucking...massive shoes. Or can the big old Witcher not make it to the top?’

‘Go on then.’

Jaskier presents the Countess’s stolen knickers ceremonially, and Geralt bats his hands away when he tries stuffing them in his mouth.

‘Well you’ll need your hands won’t you, you daft cunt?’

‘They’d better be fucking clean.’

‘Not at liberty to say, mate.’

Geralt lists to the side and stares up at the flagpole blearily. Jaskier takes advantage of his silence and sticks them on his head.

‘Go on then!’

Geralt hiccups, and then makes his way up the pole, creaking under his weight. Jaskier is doubled over with laughter on the ground, tears in his eyes and trying to keep quiet so the patrolling guards don’t hear.

He pulls the knickers off his head and waves them triumphantly in the air before hanging them off the top of the pole and letting himself slide back down to the ground jerkily.

Jaskier wheezes, and Geralt has to bend over and put his hands on his knees to muffle his own laughter. He goes for Jaskier’s coin purse, and Jaskier jabs him in the gut and cackles.

‘Alright, go on then,’ Jaskier says, ‘double or nothing.’

‘There is no way your fat arse is getting up and down that pole.’ Geralt says, judging the height again.

‘Your dad said that last night.’ Jaskier elbows him again in exactly the same spot.

‘Fuck off,’ he says, and slaps his hands away. ‘Go on then. Bet you can’t.’

Jaskier grins wickedly, and proceeds to shimmy up the pole, heaving for breath but making it to the top. ‘I’m King of Novigrad!’ He crows, voice echoing through the empty square.

The flagpole creaks ominously, and snaps.

Jaskier squeals as he drops, and Geralt has a moment to panic before he lifts his arms and catches him. Jaskier shakes with glee and kicks his feet happily, wrapping his arms round Geralt’s neck and pressing a sloppy wet kiss to his cheek.

‘My hero!’

‘Oi!’ Four guards enter the square from the other side, drawn by all the noise. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’

Geralt bolts, Jaskier still in his arms, creasing with laughter and making rude gestures at the guards over his shoulder as they make their escape.

They reach the inn, and Jaskier demands to be carried over the threshold, properly. Geralt smiles and kicks the door open with his foot. He wobbles as he walks, and Jaskier howls vengeance when he bangs his head on the wall.

‘Oh fuck off you fat cunt. Next time you can be the one carrying me.’

He tosses Jaskier on the bed, and then passes out next to him, still in all his armour.

Jaskier wakes up the next day too hungover to breathe. He whines, and keeps his eyes as tightly closed as possible while he reaches for a pillow to smother himself with. Geralt kicks him, and he decides to smother Geralt instead. Ten seconds of feeble flopping later, Jaskier gives in and just swears at him vehemently.

‘What?’

‘Wake up you idiot.’

‘What?’ Jaskier says, louder.

‘We got fucking married.’

‘Fuck off did we.’

‘Well it wasn’t my idea!’

Jaskier opens his eyes at that and tries to work out which Geralt he should be shouting at.

‘You’re chatting shite again.’

‘We got married.’ Says Geralt, and this time he sounds like he can’t believe it himself.

Faint bells ring in the back of his head, and he sits up, horrified.

‘We got fucking married?’

Geralt just nods, and stares back at him, eyes wide and panicked.

‘You limpdick fucking wanker!’ Jaskier shouts and throws a pillow at him. ‘What the hell did you want to marry me for?’

‘Oh well, I’ve secretly always wanted to be a fucking Countess, and then you went and proposed to me so nicely!’ He says, getting wound up.

Jaskier laughs despite himself, and then raises an accusing finger.

‘I knew it! I knew you were after my money.’

‘You gigantic fucking tosspot! You were the one who was all,’ Geralt raises his voice several octaves, ‘oh Geralt let’s be together forever, we don’t need women, we have each other.’

‘In all fairness, these are still valid points and I stand by them. However,’ and Jaskier raises his eyebrows, ‘why the fuck did you say yes?’

‘No idea. Thought it’d be a laugh, probably.’

‘Geralt!’ Jaskier honestly has the nerve to sound outraged. ‘I’m the one with the mad ideas, and you’re supposed to be the voice of reason! How the hell are we going to get anything done if we’re both going round having mad ideas? We’ll be dead by dusk if you carry on like that, honestly.’

‘You want a divorce then?’

‘No way in hell, this is the funniest thing that’s happened to me in years. You?’

‘I hear it’s pretty expensive to get all the paperwork done.’

‘You soppy cunt.’ Jaskier flops back down on the bed and giggles. ‘We’re not having our fucking honeymoon in Novigrad though, I’ll tell you that now.’

‘What am I going to tell Yen?’ Geralt says mournfully.

‘Well, if you see her again, and that’s a big fucking if, I’d go with something along the lines of ‘Yennefer, the ardent passion I’ve hidden for my beloved Jaskier could be denied no longer, and now we are bound forever in holy matrimony.’ You can do it, I believe in you.’

Geralt sits on him.

‘Off off off, gods, not a good start to domestic bliss!’ He wheezes, and Geralt relents.

‘I’ll fucking burst you, you jumped up little bastard.’

‘Do it tomorrow. I feel like shit.’

‘Yeah and you look like it too.’

‘Fuck off,’ Jaskier says affably and rolls over to look at him, ‘and fetch me a bath would you, husband dearest?’

Geralt actually turns pink, and Jaskier has never been one not to pounce on any weakness he finds.

‘Won’t you make me the happiest man on the Continent and fetch your poor aching husband a bath?’ He pouts as prettily as he can, and Geralt blinks at him, and actually does it.

This is going to be brilliant, Jaskier can tell.

‘Cheer up, you miserable fucking scrote.’

Geralt is walking sullenly next to Roach, and for once Jaskier is riding, pointedly displaying his correct posture after years of horsemanship drilled into him as a child, and hoping husband privileges mean he gets to ride more often.

‘Shut up.’

‘C’mon, it’s not so bad as all that. You’re married to your pal, your buddy, your main boy Jaskier! We already fuck like rabbits, we already travel together, it’s not actually all that different from what we already do.’

Surprisingly this seems to work, and Geralt seems to relax a little.

Jaskier waits a minute, for Geralt's mood to lift properly, and then adds, ‘When you die, does that mean I get Roach?’

He slumps again.

Jaskier stops Roach dead in the middle of the road and groans in realisation.

‘Fuck.’

Geralt halts as well and looks at him, worried.

‘What?’

‘You know that night we don’t ever, ever, ever talk about? On pain of instant death? Where you said something really stupid because you thought it would be funny? And gosh, speaking of, thought you’d have learned that lesson by now.’

Geralt grunts at him disapprovingly.

‘Don’t get me wrong, it was fucking hilarious, but I just realised my parents are going to absolutely shit themselves with glee. For fuck’s sake.’

‘What.’ Says Geralt, caught out.

Jaskier looks up at the sky, praying for aid, and then decides restraint has never really been his thing anyway.

‘I’m going to be a shit step-mother, I hope you know that.’

Geralt whistles once, and Roach careens instantly into a gallop beneath him. Jaskier slides straight back out of the saddle and lands flat on his arse in the dirt.

Geralt finally laughs, and Jaskier grins up at him, too relieved to be pissed off.

They make camp that night next to a little stream, and Geralt hunts them a brace of pheasant. Jaskier smiles up at him coyly, and Geralt just stands there awkwardly and clears his throat, flapping his hands as if he doesn’t know what to do with them.

Jaskier gives in and throws a pheasant at his face, and they settle down to plucking peacefully.

‘So this whole marriage thing,’ he begins, and Geralt groans, ‘I think we need some rules.’

‘Like what?’

‘Well, obviously we’re still fucking other people as well.’ Geralt nods, looking vaguely relieved.

‘But I thought, now that I’m your husband and all, is there anyone off-limits?’

Geralt stares at him baffled.

He tries again. ‘Now that you’ve the sole claim to my heart, as it were, is there anyone you definitely do not want me to fuck? And the same goes for you.’

‘Yen.’ Geralt says instantly.

‘Deal, I don’t want frostbite on my dick. Although technically, she did touch my cock before yours, if we’re being pedantic.’

Geralt huffs and tries his best glower, but that has never worked on Jaskier.

‘Let’s make it fair, we each get five people, that the other absolutely cannot fuck, on pain of death.’

‘Why do I only get five? You fuck so many people I can’t possibly pick just five out of the entire goddamn Continent!’

‘Fair’s fair. Five, or else we’d be here all day.’ Jaskier thinks for a moment, eyes darting about sneakily. ‘So mine would be, you cannot fuck the Countess de Stael, or Valdo Marx, or either of my parents, or Queen Calanthe.’

‘Calanthe?’ says Geralt, voice cracking in surprise.

‘Yeah I’m doing you a favour here mate, if that whole suspiciously prickly incident hadn’t happened she would have had you right there on that table.’

‘Fuck off.’

‘Just saving you from vaguely incestuous hate-sex at this point, buddy. And I want the chance, should the opportunity ever come my way. You know I like it when they walk in covered in blood.’

Geralt winks at him, and now it’s Jaskier’s turn to go pink.

‘So mine would be Yennefer, obviously.’

‘Agreed.’

‘Er…Triss Merrigold?’

‘Isn’t she the Temerian mage? Why?’

‘She’s nice and I don’t want her pissed off at me.’

Jaskier laughs and nods in agreement.

Geralt sits bolt upright and says ‘Jaskier, you cannot fuck my brothers.’

‘That’s a shame, Eskel’s quite fit. And I always thought Lambert was sweet on me.’

‘No.’ Geralt says, carefully and explicitly stern.

‘Fine,’ Jaskier huffs, ‘You’ve got one left, choose wisely...’

‘Coen, then.’ Jaskier eyes him carefully. ‘He’s a Griffin, winters with us sometimes.’

‘Okay. Final answer?’

Geralt nods, looking pleased with himself, and they shake on it.

‘The pact is sealed. No take-backs. I will not fuck Yennefer, Triss Merrigold, Eskel, Lambert or Coen.’

And Geralt huffs and says ‘And I will not fuck your Countess, Valdo Marx, your parents or Queen Calanthe.’

They settle down to eat their dinner and then enjoy a lazy shag by the firelight.

Jaskier waits until Geralt is closing his eyes to sleep and leans up on his elbow to watch his face.

‘Just out of interest, how old is Vesemir?’

Geralt’s eyes slam back open and he grabs for Jaskier, who just cackles helplessly, even as Geralt picks him up and dunks him in the river.

He snorts and splutters, and then sings ‘I’m going to fuck your dad,’ and Geralt holds his head under, ‘and then I’m going to divorce you,’ another dunking, ‘and marry him,’ another much longer dunk, ‘and I’m going to send you to bed without any dinner!’

Geralt gets him in a headlock and he splashes in retaliation, and they end up wrestling in the stream until Jaskier is crying with laughter and they are both thoroughly soaked.

They reach the next big town by the end of the week, and Jaskier is pleasantly surprised by how well married life is turning out. Geralt hasn’t gotten used to being called husband yet, and Jaskier has been milking it for all he’s worth, fluttering his eyelashes mercilessly and getting extra breaks and more rides on Roach whenever he asks for them.

As soon as word of their arrival in town spreads, Jaskier is requested to perform at the Mayor’s house for his daughter’s nameday. He drags Geralt along to the tailors, and delights in dressing them up in as much finery as Geralt will allow.

He swaggers, triumphant, from the dressing room in his beautiful new ruffled doublet, and preens for Geralt to admire.

‘You look like someone vomited on a pastry and then gave it legs.’

He snaps his head round to where Geralt stands, looking very uncomfortable in a tight brown tunic.

‘You look like somebody shaved a bear and then told it a shit joke.’

‘That actually sounds about right.’ They grin at each other as the seamstress stands between them looking shocked.

Jaskier performs as fantastically as he always does, maidens swooning and fainting all over the place, thrilling with the cheers and applause he receives after his encore. He makes his way back through the crowd to Geralt, who is standing awkwardly and gripping his ale for dear life as the Mayor’s daughter backs him into the corner.

‘Darling, are you alright?’ He says, and Geralt smirks at him.

The Mayor’s daughter turns on him, and squawks ‘Darling?’

‘Yes, my lady, this fine gentleman is my husband.’

Geralt tugs him closer, and kisses him, very showily. Jaskier sighs into the kiss and loses himself in it a little, restless energy from his performance sliding easily into languid heat.

They resurface, and the simpering bitch has fled for safer ground.

Jaskier drapes himself across his Witcher, and pointedly asks ‘What did you think of my performance?’

‘You sound like a weasel trying to have an orgy by itself.’

He stamps on Geralt’s boot, feigning outrage.

‘Oh, and you’re familiar with weasel orgies are you?’

Eyes all over the room are drawn to them then, as Geralt hoots with laughter and utterly fails to conceal his snorts.

Jaskier grins up at him. Really, the first time he introduced Geralt as his husband couldn’t have gone better if he’d tried.

Geralt fires a bomb at the nest of Nekkers, and Jaskier whoops from the safety of his tree. ‘Fucking shit shot you are! My fucking granny could hit better than that and she’s fucking dead!’

Geralt glances back at him, holding off three at once at the end of his sword, and shouts ‘Yeah and you can tell her I said ‘fuck off’ in a minute when you fucking see her again!’

Roach just snorts at them, and Jaskier belts out his latest composition at the top of his lungs while Geralt finishes them off.

Geralt squelches back to Jaskier’s tree and huffs up at him as he climbs down, grumbling impatiently.

‘Can’t believe that took so long, some fucking shite wolf you are.’

‘That last song sounded like someone playing catch with a hedgehog.’

Jaskier wheels round indignantly and goes for the low blow.

‘And you are getting too fat for those trousers.’

Geralt gives chase, sword raised, and he flees into the woods, screaming over his shoulder, ‘Be careful running, don’t want to rip them!’

The Witcher catches him and smacks his arse with the flat of his blade, which quickly turns into an impromptu spanking and some light roleplay. Jaskier’s third outfit in a week ends up covered in viscera.

When they finish and catch their breaths, Jaskier looks down at the mess they’ve made of his clothes and says, ‘Hang on, are you doing this on purpose?'

Geralt just grins at him.

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#geraskier #the witcher #geralt of rivia #jaskier #accidental marriage #lads on tour #lads lads lads #established relationship #jaskier is a little shit #and an enabler #bickering and bantering across the continent #the bants #original british patter

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amazingmsme · 4 years

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A Bard’s Broken Heart

AN: This is yet another 10k+ post mountain fic about Jaskier. I have a bit of a problem, but I promise it’s good! Jaskier’s sad and fed up so he sings! The songs in this fic are Fair by the Amazing Devil, I've No More Fucks to Give by Thomas Benjamin Wild, Farewell Wanderlust by the Amazing Devil, and No Worries by Robert Hallow.

Jaskier's ears were ringing, his mouth slightly agape as he stared in horror at the man he once thought was his best friend, who he had loved, but who clearly didn't love him.

"If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands." The words were the harshest that have ever been thrown his way. His voice was a deep and angry growl that sent a chill up his spine, and not the good kind. It took him a moment to gather himself enough to speak, and he couldn't be more grateful that Geralt had turned his back to him. If he had to look at him he knew he would burst into tears.

"Right. Uh... Right then... I'll- I'll go get the rest of the story from the others..." He knew he wouldn't. "See you around Geralt." Except he hoped he wouldn't. He could go the rest of his life without seeing this bastard and it would be fine by him. Except he'll miss him... fuck everything hurts so damn much.

He turns and slowly makes his way down the mountain. Why is it that whenever your sad, you're slow? He wanted nothing more than to be as far away from the mountain as possible, and yet his feet drug in the dirt. He finally made it to the lower level of the camps where everyone left their horses, and that's when he saw her.

A sob caught in his throat as he realized he would never get to see her again after this...

He trudged over to Roach, her ears perked towards him as she tossed her head. Hot tears streamed down his face and a trail of snot dripped from his nose. He reached up with his handkerchief to blow. She gave a concerned whinny, gently bumping his shoulder with her head to comfort him. He only cried louder. He wrapped his arms around her neck and cried the hardest he had since he began his walk. Gods, he could barley breathe.

"Goodbye girl. I'm gonna miss you so much." He pulled back, and Roach nickered in distress, pressing into him more. Jaskier stroked her muzzle as he spoke around sobs. "I have to leave, and I'm afraid I won't be coming back." She snorted, as if questioning him.

"I know, I don't want to either. But you know how Geralt is, and he made it clear he never liked me." Call him crazy, but he swears she shook her head. He sighed, "It's true I'm afraid. I'd tell you what he said, but it hurts too much to repeat. So I guess this is goodbye," he sniffled, pulling out an apple he had been saving, just for her. He gave her one last, tight hug and a few pets before turning and going.

Roach pulled on her tether, trying to follow him. The farther he walked, the more distressed she became.

Why was Jaskier leaving them? Why was he so sad? What did Geralt do? Surely this isn't the last time she'll see him, she had really grown to love him, almost as much as she loved Geralt.

Jaskier's crying increased tenfold as he heard Roach's neighs of distress. She pawed at the ground, throwing her head back as she brayed. Jaskier didn't dare look back. He didn't need his heart broken a second time today... Truly he would die.

It was well past nightfall when he made it to the closest town near the base of the mountain. He knew if he camped on the mountain it would only increase his chances of seeing Geralt or Yennefer, and that was the farthest thing from what he needed.

It was barely past midnight when he stumbled into the inn's tavern, weary and weak. He sat at the bar and ordered the first of many drinks. He needed to forget. He needed to be numb. Someone noticed his lute case and came up demanding a song. He looked at them with bloodshot eyes and answered in a broken voice, "I'm not working right now, sorry. I've had a rough day." But they were insistent and even more drunk than he was.

They grabbed him by the collar, lifting him off of his stool. The barmaid eyed them wearily, unsure of what to do.

"I said, play us a fucking song."

"Are you perhaps deaf? I'm not playing anything, I simply wish to have a few drinks and a bite to eat before I retire for the night," he clarified, shoving the man off.

"I ain't deaf! Now if you know what's good for you, you'll play a fucking song or else!"

Jaskier was done. There was nothing left to fight for, he just felt empty. Nothing mattered anymore. "Oh so maybe you're just stupid then. My mistake." He stood to go to his room only to be shoved back down in his seat. Before he could do anything, his head was slammed into the bar. He burst to life, ready to unleash all of his hurt onto this man who picked the wrong fight.

This is what Jaskier needed. A good adrenaline rush! He craved to feel bone crack under his fists, to have blood on his hands, both from this poor sucker and his own cracked knuckles. Only some bastard came and stole that away, delivering a swift punch to the side of the head, knocking him out. The barmaid had ran and gotten the owner, and the assailant was thrown outside. Jaskier huffed. Seemed he can't even have the pleasure of getting the shit beat out of him. It would sure feel a hell of a lot better than what he was currently feeling. And it would've been a nice distraction.

The man sat down next to him, and Jaskier refused to look up. He just took a few large gulps from his tankard before speaking.

"I would've handled it you know."

"I don't doubt it, but you look like you've had a rough day."

Jaskier snorted into his glass. "You have no idea," he muttered. He glanced to the side, taking him in. He was tall, maybe even taller than Geralt. Shit, no, don't think about him. You can't let this stranger see you cry. He allowed himself to turn his head more, studying him. He had dark hair, just past his ears and ended near the nape of his neck. His face was handsome, even if he had a huge scar running down his right side and caused his lip to curl, almost in a sneer. And how could he possibly miss those striking gold eyes.

Jaskier winced, finishing off his drink and gesturing for another.

"No offense but the last thing I need is to be saved, especially by some witcher," he was decently drunk, his words slurring but he managed to get just the right amount of discontent in his voice. The witcher held up his hands in mock surrender.

"Never said you did." He was just about to leave, but a strange part of Jaskier wanted him to stay. Maybe so he could tell him everything he wishes he could tell Geralt now.

"Y-you know, you aren't so great-" he started. The man tilted his head in curiosity, settling back into his chair to listen. "With your stupid potions and swords. I mean yeah you guys are strong but there's plenty of strong folk out there. And FUCK all that "witchers don't feel" bullshit, I know it's a damn lie!" He pointed an accusatory finger at him. The witcher only smirked and put his hand back on the table.

"I mean who the hell do you think you're fooling? Yourselves. I mean you guys are so emotionally constipated you can't even bring yourself to call someone a friend after they've been traveling with you for two fucking decades! And not once in that time did I hear a thank you Jaskier, you're not as useless as I once thought Jaskier. No, it's always you're such a fucking nuisance, and you ruined my whole life." He deflated after his little rant, hunching over his drink in shame. The witcher held out his hand.

"Eskel," he greeted formally. Jaskier took it in a loose handshake, not having the energy to put effort in it.

"Jaskier," he mumbled.

"So, emotionally constipated, huh? Pretty grumpy from the sounds of it too," he pondered aloud. Jaskier looked at him, puzzled. "And let you travel with him for 20 years. Take in the consideration that fine gentleman demanding you sing for him... you were with Geralt," he concluded.

"You're good."

"So, what the hell did my dumbass brother do now?"

"What didn't he do would be a better question. I can't believe I stayed with him after all this time. I should've never started singing his praises," he lamented.

Eskel shrugged, "You sure did help the rest of us out. Thanks for that." Jaskier stared at him with wide, hopeful eyes. Tears barely held back.

"Y-you're welcome."

"Look, Geralt's an idiot, especially with his feelings. But what I know is his bark can be a hell of a lot worse than his bite. He probably didn't mean whatever it was he said," he tried to comfort him. Jaskier shook his head.

"You weren't there. In all the time we've been together I've never seen him so angry. And it was all directed at me. You wanna know what that bastard whoreson said to me?" Eskel nodded. He was very curious.

"First he snapped and blamed me for all his life troubles, simply because I was there. Then he said, he said..." he trailed off, a lump in his throat preventing his speech.

"Hey, it's okay. You don't have to tell me if you want."

"No, no I need to. Need to get this off my chest, share the burden, you know?" He took a shakeup breath to brace himself. "If life could give me one blessing... i-it would b-be to take you o-off my hands," he barely managed to say. He couldn't hold it back any longer and the tears began to flow once more. He turned away from Eskel.

He was shocked to say the least.

"Wow... Geralt you really fucked up," he said in disbelief.

"I never want to see him again," Jaskier spat out.

"I don't blame you."

"But... is it wrong that I also do? Want to see him?" he asked. Eskel shook his head.

"Not at all. Like you said, you traveled together for 20 years. Hard not to get attached to someone during all that time."

"Not hard for Geralt apparently," he snarled. Eskel placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Fuck him."

For the first time that day, Jaskier gave a small, albeit sad smile. "Yeah, fuck him." They clinked their mugs together, chugging the rest of their drinks. Eskel ordered two more.

"You've had a shit day, let me pay for it," he insisted.

"Thank you," Jaskier said. "Not just for the round, but for everything. For listening."

Eskel shrugged, "What can I say? You're fun to listen to, even if you're sad as hell right now. Bet you're a hell of a guy when you're not all torn up like this."

Jaskier was floored. Maybe because it was the most genuine compliment he's ever received, or maybe because it was a witcher who said it. Or maybe because Geralt had never said anything half as nice to him.

He put a hand over his heart, "Wow, that's- that's the nicest thing a witcher's ever said to me." He was only half joking. Many drinks later, and they were both sufficiently drunk. Jaskier leaned against him, resting his head on his shoulder. It had been... years, decades even, since someone touched Eskel like this. No traces of fear, hatred or disgust on his scent. He wasn't paid to hold him like this. He just simply treated him as though he were normal. It made his head spin, and not just from the amble amount of ale he had.

"I can't believe I lo-hic-loved him," he slurred, interrupted by a hiccup. Eskel's eyes widened at the confession. "I'm just a ssstupid, hopeless romantic who fell in love with someone who- who can't even admit, at the very least! That they like me!"

He patted his back in a mimic of comfort. "Hey, uh- I'm sure you're not those things. Romantic yes. But stupid and hopeless? I don't think so." Jaskier reached a hand up to pat his cheek, his scarred cheek, in thanks.

"Oh you poor stupid witcher. If I am anything it is stupid and hopeless." Eskel rolled his eyes.

"You said loved, as in past tense."

Jaskier sighed, sitting up on his own. Eskel almost felt sad. "Yes well, it's hard to love someone after they say something like that. But I already miss him. Yearn to see and touch him again. But I can't let that happen."

"Why not?" Eskel tilted his head in curiosity.

"Because I'm weak," he said, his voice so small. So utterly broken. "I'm weak for him. I already know that if I even catch a glimpse of him I'll come crawling back, begging for forgiveness." His voice was wet and heavy now.

"You're not the one who should be begging for forgiveness."

"You see, my brain knows that, but my heart tells me to try and get him back. I feel, torn. Why do I still want him even after he shoved me away in the worst way possible?" His eyes glistened with unshed tears as he looked to Eskel for an answer.

"Uuuh, look kid, if you're looking for a real answer, I don't have one. I may understand feelings better than Geralt, but they're still a mystery to me," he admitted.

"Yes, I suppose so.

Eskel was staring into his mug when he spoke. "Winter will be here before you know it. Normally we all head to the keep and wait out the bad months. I'll probably see Geralt, want me to, I don't know, pass on a message? Teach him a lesson?" he asked. It wouldn't be the first time he beat him up, and he always had fun doing so. And Lambert always liked to watch.

Jaskier snorted. "I don't know. Make him feel guilty though, if you can. Tell him he blew it."

Eskel nodded solemnly. "I can do that. Anywhere specific you're planning on going?" he questioned. Jaskier eyed him suspiciously.

"Depends. Do you plan to tell Geralt where I ran off to?" he asks. Eskel shrugged.

"Depends on how sorry I think he is," he answered truthfully. Jaskier didn't really like that answer but at least it was honest. "I won't tell him if he hasn't learned his lesson. You have my word."

Jaskier hums. "I don't really know where I'll go from here. Wherever I feel like going, I suppose. I might go back to Oxenfurt and teach for the winter." Eskel nodded.

"Right, well. I'll be on the lookout for you. Stay safe." He clapped him on the back as he rose from his seat, heading out of the tavern doors and into the night. Jaskier went up to the room he rented and cried himself to sleep.

~~~~

Geralt realized his mistake, and shame washed over him. His anger at Jaskier had been misplaced, and he didn't deserve his harsh words. But it was so easy to blame him instead of taking the fault as his own. As he walked down the mountain alone, he began to feel worse and worse about what he said to Jaskier. He always had good intentions, even if things didn't always work out. He was pure at heart and tried his best. Geralt should've tried harder. He needed to find him and apologize. And hopefully it wasn't too late for Jaskier to take him back.

When he made it down to Roach, she seemed less than pleased with him. As she saw him approach in the distance, she snorted angrily and tossed her head, looking away from him. It didn't take long to figure out why. The closer he got to her, the more he could smell Jaskier. His scent was all over her, mingling with salty tears and bitter sorrow. Geralt frowned to himself, knowing he was the reason Jaskier had left in tears.

Roach didn't meet his eyes, even when he tried talking to her. He stroked her mane apologetically, but still received the cold shoulder. He sighed.

"I promise, I'll make things right with him." She whinnied as if to say, "You better."

At least that had been his plans. But the bard was surprisingly hard to track. The trail had gone cold by the time he had made it to the small town at the base of the mountain. This would have to wait. He was running low on coin and needed to find jobs.

~~~~

Jaskier had no idea where he was going. He drifted with the wind, a truly lost spirit unsure where he would turn up next. He supposed he could continue on the path, drifting from town to town like he normally did. However, that increased his chances of running into Geralt... He could head to the coast alone, but that would just remind him more of his rejection. It was too early to head back to Oxenfurt, summer only just around the corner. Hm, the road it was, he supposed.

He sat on the forest floor, idly strumming his lute. He needed new music. Something to help sort out the mess inside his brain.

"Damnit Jaskier! Why is it whenever I find myself in a pile of shit these days, it's you, shoveling it?"

"Well, that's not fair-"

Fair. Nothing in this word was fair. He inhaled deeply, breathing with the grass and sighing with the trees. He began plucking a few chords, testing the waters of a new song.

"It's what my heart just yearns to say, In ways that can't be said. It's what my rotting bones will sing When the rest of me is dead."

His fingers gained more confidence, strumming more clearly as he continued.

"It's what's engraved upon my heart, In letters deeply worn. Today I somehow understand the reason I was born."

Images of Geralt flash before his eyes. A dazzling bright smile, so rarely seen. A voice that could be so gentle when he tried to be. Soft golden eyes, warmer than sunshine and sweeter than honey. His hair was surprisingly soft for everything that happened to it. Maybe monster guts are a sort of conditioner.

But he also remembers his lips curling in hatred. Evil words spat his direction, ending 20 years worth of friendship. Well, friendship on Jaskier's part.

He thought of Yennefer, and everything she took from them both. Things had been relatively fine until that fucking djinn. But... maybe Geralt did care after all, at least a tiny bit. He had seemed so desperate to find someone to save him... But of course he could never compete with Yennefer. She was powerful as all hell with the beauty and grace to match. She knew the control that kind of thing had over others, and used it to her advantage. He couldn't really blame her. He probably would've fallen at her heels had she not been so utterly terrifying. They were perfect for each other, he thought sadly. She was a heartless witch in search of something she may never have and he was a clueless witcher who cared very little about anything else and denied the fact he had any sort of emotions. They are timeless beings, similar to himself. Oh if only Geralt knew... maybe he wouldn't have been so quick to choose her.

"Cos outwardly he says I try so hard to make you laugh at me. And she, she does, She laughs as though she not heard the joke ten thousand times before. And he adores her, He watches her get dressed as though she's hurtling through time. Oh darling please be mine."

That was a good verse. Most people will assume it's about some lost love, a fair maiden who was swept off her feet by another man. Well, that was half true. A few more verses, then he reached the chorus. He let some of his magic seep into his words, having filled his heart and overflowing from his mouth. He didn't know what good it would do, but it felt right on his tongue.

Elven magic was a bit different than the kind that mages typically used. It drew its power from the earth, and in return the magic would breathe life back in the world. He remembers his grandmother's lectures that he had brushed off at the time. You have to pull from your core, whatever that meant. He hadn't tried in years, and when he had, he could never tell a difference.

"It's not fair, It's not fair how much I love you. It's not fair, Cos you make me laugh when I'm actually Really fucking cross at you for something. And he'll say- Oh how, oh how unreasonable. How unreasonably in love I am, with everything you do. I'll spend my days so close to you cos if I'm Standing here, maybe everyone will think I'm alright."

The words felt hot in his mouth, tasting like a sweet smoke. He didn't notice how the life around him teemed, seemingly growing towards him. He had always had an affinity towards nature, as most elves do. In this moment, the whole forest grieved with him. As he continued to sing, a doe and fawn wandered into the clearing. A small fox raised its head from where it was bedded down. He debuted his newest song at the next tavern he stopped at.

It was late, and the patrons that were left were tired and very inebriated. He had played some upbeat crowd pleasers and now, all their excess energy was spent. They were bound to be much more accepting of a slow song by now. He pulled up his stool and sat down, adjusting his lute as he did so.

"Alright, one last song. It's a new one I've been working on, so I hope you enjoy it." His eyes locked on a table full of young, good looking women. "This is for anyone out there with a broken heart." And just like he knew they would, they swooned.

The song was very well received; as he traveled the continent, so did his song. Followed by another and another.

His latest was an upbeat jaunty little tune, that left courtrooms and taverns alike in stitches. It was one everyone, no matter who you were, could relate to. He even thought it was more popular than Fishmonger's Daughter, which was saying something.

He stood in the ballroom of some palace in Vizima. It was the Duke's birthday, so of course they had requested only the best bard in the continent to come and play. And with flattery like that, how could he refuse? All around him beautiful people talked and ate, flitting about the room. He was pulled from group to group, engaging in both thrilling and dull conversation. He grabbed his lute from where he had set it aside, strumming the strings a bit to gain the room's attention. With everyone staring at him, he smiled, wide and dazzling.

His fingers set to work, playing the bouncy tune as he bobbed up and down. The crowd erupted in cheers upon the recognition of the song.

"I've tried, tried, tried, and I've tried even more. I've cried, cried, cried, and I can't recall what for. I've pressed, I've pushed, I've yelled, I've begged, In hopes of some success. But the inevitable fact is that it never will impress!"

He jumped into the chorus, spinning around the room as everyone danced and clapped along.

"I've no more fucks to give My fucks have runeth dry I've tried to go fuck shopping but there's no fucks left to buy! I've no more fucks to give Though more fucks I've tried to get I'm over my fuck budget, and I'm now in fucking debt!"

Laughter and cheers rang through the air. Men and women hooked arms and twirled around in circles before changing partners. Skirts twirled across the floor and feet stomped in time to the beat.

When Jaskier had written the song, he didn't expect it to grow so popular. He had been so fed up with life. So unequivocally done with his very existence. Of course he was still upset with Geralt. He never knew if he would ever really get over that. And Yennefer's utter bitchiness any time they were in the same vicinity fueled his fire. His talk with Eskel stood out in his mind, and the thought of possibly seeing Geralt both thrilled and terrified him. Oh how he hoped the bastard was sorry. Lately all of his love endeavors ended in either failure or nothing more than a one night stand. And overall he just felt like anything he tried backfired. He was tired, hopeless, and fed up. All of this swirled in his mind until it was just too much. He scribbled down the very first thing his angry hornets nest of a brain could spit out, and this was the result. It was cathartic, and he had sure got a kick out of it. He played it in a seedy tavern as a joke, but they absolutely loved it. Begged him to play it again and again until his fingers bled. Now wherever he went, it was a sure thing that he would have to play that song.

Not that he was complaining though. It was a hell of a lot better than when he was forced to sing Toss A Coin.

He finished with a flourish, holding out the last note and strumming the lute strings a bit faster, a gesture of finality. Everyone roared with applause and cheers, coin and even a few flowers tossed his way. Hm, they looked strangely similar to the bouquets acting as table center pieces... Regardless, he reveled in the praise all the same. Even went as far as to catch a flower in mid air- with his teeth. The cheers grew louder at that, and he shot a wink towards the crowd.

He was stolen away from his glory by a countess who dragged him to a quieter corner of the room.

"Your musical skills are most impressive," she complimented, taking a sip from her goblet. "Though I'm sure you're used to hearing that by now," she teased gently. Jaskier chuckled.

"Oddly enough, I don't hear it too often. But I suppose I don't need to, I'm quite aware of my talents," he said, testing the waters. She raised a brow, seemingly intrigued.

"Oh? And what are your other talents?"

"I am a professor at Oxenfurt. Many of my students graduate with honors. And of course you're aware of my musical skills," he said, plucking at his lute, making her giggle. "But I must say most of my other talents are only shared in closed quarters." He licked his lips, awaiting her response. She flushed beautifully, adverting her eyes as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

"Well, I must say. As forward as that was I am most intrigued." She opened her fan, wafting air over her face. She couldn't seem to help the smile on her face as she pulled on his arm, leading him down a corridor and into an empty bedroom. After an hour and a half of pure bliss they returned to the party, satisfied and smitten, if just the slightest bit disheveled. This time, he was pulled away by a viscount.

"I'm glad you could make it Julian!" Jaskier didn't bother correcting him. After all, it was what the man had first known him as, and he supposed he was too old to learn anything different.

"I am too. This is quite the party," he said, taking a drink.

"So, where's your witcher?"

Jaskier nearly choked, sputtering his drink and coughing slightly. The man patted his back to help.

"Come again?" he asked, hoping he was just hearing things.

"The witcher you always sing about. He usually accompanies you to these things, does he not?" Great, just when he was doing better, just when he was starting to forget and began enjoying himself, he was reminded of what would never be again. His heart clenched in his chest and his stomach turned in knots. A lump caught in his throat. He struggled to speak around it, to act like everything was fine.

"He's on the path on his own at the moment. But when I see him again I will be sure to give him your regards," he said with a fake charming smile. Oh he'll send his regards. He'll send them right up Geralt's ass where they belong. He excused himself, going off to find a bathroom. He tried to stop himself, but hot tears flowed from his eyes, and he did what he could to keep his makeup from running. In the end he had to do a quick touch up, but when he returned to sing once more, he looked fresh as a daisy.

~~~~

Months go by, with no possible leads on where Jaskier, or his child surprise, could be. Just songs sung in taverns that he's heard the bard sing too many times before. But oh what he wouldn't give to hear that voice right now.

The bard at the inn he was currently at wasn't terrible, but they just weren't him. He had a voice unlike any other, and though he had never admitted it aloud, he really did like it. Why he never told Jaskier was beyond him. Maybe he thought by distancing himself, he wouldn't get too attached. Maybe at first, he really did hate his singing. Or maybe he was just afraid to acknowledge his own feelings. Witchers didn't really do compliments. After all, most of the affection he showed his brothers was through insults. It's one of the only ways he knows how to show he cares. But Jaskier didn't know that. He probably just thinks he hates everything about him. All because the one time Geralt should've kept his mouth shut, he erupted like a volcano. Hot, angry, and destructive.

The song they sang was one he hadn't heard before, but it sounded undeniably Jaskier. Everything from the chord progression, the range, the tune, the excessive swearing, to the hilariously relatable lyrics, just screamed Jaskier. He didn't need to ask who wrote it. He knew.

Winter was drawing near. It was time to make the yearly trip to the keep. Geralt had hoped that by this time he would've found Jaskier and made up. Wished for him to stay the winter with him and meet his brothers. Oh well. There was always next year he supposed.

The journey was just as harsh and bitter as he remembered it always being. But when he arrived at Kaer Morhen, he had three happy faces waiting for him. After the exchange of bear hugs and hair ruffles, Vesemir left them to chat amongst themselves. He couldn't help but notice that Eskel had been giving him the stink eye ever since he had gotten there. They were currently in a large den area, seated close to a fireplace.

"Okay I'll bite, why the fuck are you glaring at me like I just kicked Lil Bleater?" he asked, none too kindly. Lambert shifted in his seat, settling in for the show. He looked to Eskel, eagerly waiting for his response.

"Hm. I assumed you'd know," Eskel said in an even tone. Lambert's head snapped over to Geralt, ready to hear what he had to say.

"What the hell did I do to you?" he asked. Lambert nodded.

"Yes, please tell. I'm dying to know."

Eskel met Geralt's eyes with harsh judgement. "It's nothing that you did to me." Oh this was positively juicy. And Lambert was eating it up.

"The hell's that supposed to mean?" Geralt snapped. Eskel just shook his head.

"Nothing. Just means you blew it."

"Blew what?" he asked. He was tired of beating around the bush. Eskel just shrugged, infuriatingly.

"If you can't figure it out, you're an even bigger idiot than I pegged you for." Okay that was it.

Geralt slammed his fist down on the table. "Damnit I'm sick of your cryptic ass bullshit! What the hell are you talking about?" Eskel's face finally showed a hint of emotion. His scar curled lip quirked up in a smirk that could only mean trouble. And a playful malice danced behind his eyes.

"A little lark told me," he began, noticing how stiff Geralt became. "All about your little mountain breakup." All of a sudden Geralt surged forth, gripping Eskel by the collar and shoved him against the nearest wall. Lambert stood to get a better view of the action.

"You saw Jaskier and didn't tell me?" he growled. Eskel shrugged with a cocky smile.

"I'm telling you now, aren't I? And it's not like he was eager to see you. And from the sounds of it I'm shocked you'd want to see him either. Geralt's eyes widened in shock, his grip loosening ever so slightly. "If life could give me one blessing-"

He smacked a hand over his mouth, slamming his head against the stone just a little harder than necessary. Eskel didn't fight back, only raised his eyebrows. Behind them, Lambert let out a low whistle.

"So you finally fucked up the one good thing in your life? Can't say I'm surprised," he mused. Geralt whipped his head around to look over his shoulder.

"You want to be next?" Lambert held his hands up in mock surrender.

Eskel reached up and slid Geralt's hand from his mouth so he could speak. "He was pretty torn up when I found him." Geralt looked to the ground in shame. "Pissed as all hell, sad fucker too. You really did a number on him." Geralt's eyes were full of regret.

"I should've never said those things to him." He let Eskel go, arms hanging limp at his sides. The heavily scarred witcher crossed his arms.

"Yeah no shit. You really need to do better."

"I know. He was my best friend," he admitted. Eskel's expression softened.

"Why didn't you ever tell him that? He made it sound like you only ever insulted him."

Geralt sighed. "I wasn't as nice as I should've been. Any time I tried I just. Froze and said some stupid shit."

Lambert clapped him on the back. "Oh Geralt, you always do that." A ghost of a smile flashed on his face as he brushed off his hand.

"What was it that made you throw two decades worth of friendship down the drain?" Eskel questioned. Geralt sighed even deeper.

"The dragon hunt was long and tiring. Too many people wanting to kill the dragon, protecting it was harder than I thought. Yen and I fought. I told her about the last wish I made with the djinn and... she didn't take it well. Needless to say we're through. And then- Jaskier was right there and he was talking like he always does, and I. I lashed out. I just felt like hurting someone the way I was just hurt."

Eskel rolled his eyes. "You're a fucking moron. Just because you don't know how the hell to handle your emotions doesn't mean you get to take it out on other people. Especially those who had nothing to do with it."

Geralt wholeheartedly agreed. "I know. I just want him back."

"You better hope you know how to make this right."

"I tried looking for him, but his trail went cold. I need to apologize. I need him to know that I never meant those things, and that he's my friend," he said, sounding defeated. He took a few steps back, collapsing in a chair.

Eskel eyed him, a funny look on his face.

"What?"

"You sure he's only just a friend?"

"Of course he is! What else would he be?" he asked, brows furrowed. Eskel smirked, pacing the room in an aloof sort of way.

"I don't mean to go around telling secrets that aren't mind, but knowing you you'll never figure it out on your own." Geralt growled as Lambert snickered. Eskel cut them both off. "But it seemed like a lot more than just friendship, at least on your bard's end."

Geralt perked up, leaning forward in his chair. "Wait really?"

Lambert nudged him. "Careful, you almost sound excited. Don't tell me my big brother has a crush," he teased, locking him in a headlock. Geralt easily threw him over his shoulder, making him flip over his lap before landing on the hard ground.

"Shut the hell up, this is serious."

"Oooo you do have a crush!" his teasing increased tenfold. He wrapped an arm around his ankle, shaking his leg slightly. Geralt moved so the sole of his boot pressed against his cheek, effectively keeping him pinned.

"Ah! Hey let me up!" Geralt rolled his eyes and lifted his foot, setting him free. He turned his attention to Eskel.

"What makes you think that?"

"Aside from... everything about him?"

"Eskel get to the fucking point!"

"He was broken hearted, easy as that... And he, uh, told me himself," he said, looking away. For some reason he felt a sting of guilt. He wasn't betraying Jaskier, not really, but it felt like something the bard should tell him himself. But on the other hand, Jaskier said to make the clueless bastard feel bad, and he knew if this were a fight, that would be the final blow.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and buried his face behind his hands and let out a low, suffering groan. "He probably never wants to see me again."

"With a face like that, who could blame him?" Lambert joked from his spot on the floor. Eskel kicked him semi gently and shook his head at the youngest wolf. He then turned his attention to Geralt.

"Well don't get me wrong, he was very upset. But it had just happened, so he might've cooled off by now. And even then he was conflicted about whether or not he wanted to see you. I say give it a shot," he encouraged. Geralt rolled his eyes.

"But how will I find him again? I mean, where do I even start?"

"Well he's a bard ain't he?" Lambert said, finally sitting up. "Just follow his songs."

Eskel's face scrunched up in confusion. "The hell does that mean?"

"No, no Lambert has a point. If he's been performing then chances are other bards will be singing his songs in places he's recently been. Then I can follow the trail from there," he said.

"See? I have good ideas!" Lambert stuck his tongue out at Eskel, who rolled his eyes. He reached out and grabbed his tongue, pulling on it. Lambert's eyes bugged out and he made a strangled noise before biting his hand. Eskel recoiled and snarled at him in warning.

Geralt paid them no mind, instead thinking of how he would win back his bard.

~~~~

When the months turned cold, Jaskier tucked his tail and holed up in Oxenfurt. After a life on the road, teaching just wasn't as thrilling as it used to be. He still loved these kids, saw their blooming potential. But he also saw too much of himself reflected in those faces, with their wide hopeful eyes and innocent naïvety. They idolized him. He achieved what so many could only dream of, had seen amazingly horrific beasts and lead a life of wonder and adventure. But that was over. At least he could relive those glory days vicariously through his songs...

Winter came and went. His students were all talented and lovely people, and he earned the title of the fun, hot professor. And while he might would have hooked up with a student or two when he was younger, the thought no longer appealed to him. His heart and mind were elsewhere.

As the snow began to melt, he set off. He had bought a nice and sturdy steed for his journey ahead, being tired of traveling on foot and finally acquiring enough coin for one. Bruno was a beautiful smokey gray with a white mane and tale. He didn't seem to mind his singing or his rants, and offered the occasional neigh in response. Jaskier suddenly understood why Geralt talked to Roach as if she were human.

During his time at Oxenfurt, he was productive and debuted a few new songs. Now as spring fast approached, he was ready to share them with the rest of the world. He was currently in some small village not too far from the academy, a mere pit stop on a long journey.

After performing a particularly successful set, he sat at the bar to wet his whistle in preparation for the rest of the night. He only glanced at the body that sat down next to him, going back to his drink.

"Nice songs, they all yours?"

Jaskier swallowed and nodded. "Yes, I normally only play my songs. They're quite popular and people expect it. But if I get a request by someone else I won't turn it down. Why, you want me to sing something?" he answered, turning to look at him. He was quite handsome if he said so himself.

"No I can never remember the songs or how they go." Jaskier hummed into his glass in lieu of a real answer. "So uh, what was that last one called again?"

"Her Sweet Kiss," Jaskier said, lip curling in saddened amusement.

"Oh yeah, I remember. What's it about?" he tried.

"Just a... an old relationship that didn't quite turn out."

"Sorry to hear that mate. If you don't mind me asking, what happened." Jaskier snorted and shook his head, staring at his reflection in the liquid.

"Let's just say they didn't choose me." The man shifted in his seat.

"I'm Lambert by the way."

"Jaskier, pleased to meet you," though his voice didn't sound all too enthused. Lambert licked his lips.

"My brother's looking for you." Jaskier's head snapped over to look at him. Really look at him. He had a scar over his eye, short brown hair, two scary looking swords strapped to his back, and a wolf medallion hanging on his chest. Another witcher. He didn't know whether to be grateful or disappointed that it wasn't Geralt.

He decided to play dumb. After all, maybe he didn't know. "Eskel?" he asked in feigned confusion.

Lambert rolled his eyes. "No dumb ass. The other one." Jaskier tilted his head.

"I'm sorry, but how do you expect me to know who your brother is when I've only just met you?" he asked. Lambert snorted and folded his arms.

"Well you know Eskel. Geralt was right, you really are a smug lil smart ass."

"That's funny, a second ago I was a dumb ass."

"Hey I'm not afraid to hit you," he threatened.

"Nor am I," Jaskier countered. Lambert wore a shocked half grin, eyebrows raised.

"Huh. Okay then."

"So what, did Geralt send you? Am I too close within his vicinity that I'm fucking up his destiny yet again?" he asked bitterly. Lambert looked him up and down, judging his next words before he spoke.

"No, I found you all on my own thank you very much. Though I bet he'll be pissed that I also found you before he did," he mused. This seemed to peak the bard's interest as he turned to face him. Lambert leaned in to say more. "He's looking for you ya know."

"So you said. Why though?" he asked. Lambert shrugged.

"Wants to apologize I guess. Make things right," he said. Jaskier just looked... lost. Then his face morphed into one of amusement as he doubled over, letting out a stream of shrill, slightly manic laughs.

He wiped away a few tears as he spoke. "The day that man apologizes is the day he dies. He's much too prideful and stupid to do such a thing."

Lambert rolled his eyes. "I know he is, but he also really seems to care about you."

Jaskier snorted. "Funny. Normally when someone cares about you they don't blame you for all their life's problems and tell you to get fucked," he spat out.

"Look, I get he may be a stubborn horse's ass, but he really is sorry."

"Thanks but I'll believe it when I hear it from him. If you'll excuse me I need to get back to work." He pushed off from the bar, walking back to his stool and lute. Lambert leaned back in his seat, allowing himself to listen to the music. As he drank himself into a stupor, tales of heartbreak and anguish washed over him. But there was also a deep seeded sense of longing, a yearning so strong it almost hurt Lambert to listen to. But it was there that he saw a glimmer of hope for his brother to win him back.

~~~~

Things never went as planned. For some reason, destiny liked to fuck with Geralt as much as it possibly could. It seemed as though he was finding everyone except the man he was trying so desperately to find. The first to come to him was his child surprise, who he had also been searching for and had been given the most importance in his mind. Good, one thing crossed off the list. He knew they were bound together, so they would find their way to each other eventually, but with the fall of Cintra he much preferred sooner rather than later.

She was kind, but also had a fierce bite to her personality that reminded Geralt of her grandmother. He could feel the untapped potential of her magic sizzling beneath her skin and sparked under his touch. She was curious and talkative in a way that emphasized the hole that Jaskier had left behind.

And then, much to his chagrin, they met up with Yennefer during the middle of a contract. It would be hard to miss the way she stared at Ciri, with a want so strong and a hint of jealousy that Geralt had been gifted what she could only dream of having. Even with his knowledge of magic, he would need someone with stronger abilities to help train the princess. And as much as he had regretted it, he was now thankful that he had tied his and Yennefer's fates. She seemed to be more forgiving now, but made it obvious that whatever romance might have been blooming was now long dead. He was okay with that. He was just glad to have her back in his life. They were good friends, and as a witcher, that was hard to find.

It was dangerous to travel with Ciri, what with the state of the continent. Nilfgaard was on the prowl for the lion cub of Cintra, and would stop at nothing to try and hunt her down. They were still a long ways from the witcher's keep. Only then would she be truly safe to begin her training properly. They had cut her hair to just below her chin to change her appearance enough so she wasn't instantly recognizable. Geralt gave her a thick black cloak to further hide her face. Her old blue cloak was just as much of a dead giveaway as her hair. But no one paid much mind to a veiled child at the side of a famed witcher.

They knew better than to call her by her name, at least in public. Instead they would call her Ella or Ellie, Yennefer claiming that it suited her. Ciri didn't seem to mind. They had been traveling nonstop for a week and were completely exhausted and starving for a real meal. A bath wouldn't hurt either. They came to the inn in search of some much needed rest for the journey ahead. Warm light spilled from the windows and into the darkness outside, a welcome sight. Music and excited chatter met their ears as they approached, greeting them as Geralt held the door open for them.

Avoiding as much attention as they could, they slipped into a booth in the far corner. Ciri sat on the inner seat near the wall, Geralt's large frame mostly shielding her from view. Yennefer sat across from them.

Geralt was tired and worn, otherwise he would've instantly recognized the voice drifting through the air.

"I'm the hardest goodbye that you'll ever have to say-" the last note drug on and scooped continuously into the next word, earning a couple of impressed cheers.

"You don't know it yet, but I'm the Cupid of things That you just don't get, that you struggled to say." The music continued in the background as a waitress took their orders. Once she moved out of their way, Ciri gasped.

"Oh my gods, that's Jaskier!" she said in excitement. Yennefer calmly turned her head to the side while Geralt whipped around, eyes frantically searching for the bard. There he was, swaying to the music as his fingers plucked and thrummed the strings. "I have to say hi!"

"But like rubbing wine stains into rugs, it's my curse. To try and make it right, but by trying make it worse."

Geralt was about to speak, but Yennefer beat him to it. "Ah ah ah, I don't think that's a good idea," she warned.

Ciri shook her head adamantly. "No, he's a good friend! He played at all of my birthdays and our banquets! Believe me, we can trust him." When they both stared at her dumbfounded, she continued. "I get it if you're a bit star struck, I mean he's the best musician on the whole continent."

Yenn snorted. "Who told you that? Him?" Ciri jumped to his defense, but Geralt was too preoccupied to know what she said. His eyes were glued to Jaskier.

Jaskier's voice was raw with emotion as he sang. Deep and guttural around certain words, sensual and alluring with others.

"I'm the heartbreak that aches far too much to be shunned. All those letters unsent and that garden ungrown. I'm the captain of courage that you've eternally lacked. I'm the Jesus of wishing to Christ he'll come back."

Jaskier looked up at just the right moment, at just the right spot to lock eyes with Geralt. He froze for barely a second. Geralt could hear him swallow thickly before he continued, as though unfazed. His eyes never breaking their gaze.

"Because farewell wanderlust, you've been oh, so kind." His voice was so soft, so tender as he sang the words. Then ramped up in intensity as he continued, finally tearing his eyes away.

"After he finishes this song I'm going to go talk to him," Ciri said with a finality that can't be challenged. Geralt only just now caught up with the conversation.

"No. I will." Yennefer was doing a poor job of hiding her amusement. He shot her a glare. Ciri looked at him with an incredulous look.

"I'm practically like family to him, I get to go first," she left no room to argue. Geralt stared at her in slight shock. "You can wait your turn."

"Hm." He would do as she said, but that didn't mean he was happy about it. But at least it gave him time to gather his thoughts and try to form a proper apology. He looked up to see Jaskier's eyes burn holes through him, an angry bitterness woven into his words.

"I'm the tales that the guests will applaud and believe. I'm the child that you just didn't have time to conceive. I promise you I'm not broken! I promise you there's more! More to come, more to reach for, more to hurl at the door."

Ciri leaned forward in her seat to see better. "This must be a new song. It's kinda sad, I wonder who it's about." Yennefer shot Geralt a knowing, accusatory look. He finished, holding the last note of the song for as long as the chord faded out. Everyone burst into applause, tossing coin his way. He made a beeline for the bar, taking the route farthest from them and maintaining that distance. When Geralt didn't move to let her out, too entranced, Ciri crawled underneath the table and made her way to her old friend.

Jaskier leaned against the bar, his head in one hand, a tankard of ale in another. "Melitele's tits I'm too sober for this," he muttered to himself.

"Jaskier!" Before he could turn around he was bombarded by a small figure and enveloped in a hug.

"Wha- hi hello," he said in confusion, tentatively wrapping his arms around her.

"Jaskier, it's me!" she said, and tilted her hood back to reveal her face to him. His eyes widened and mouth dropped in shock. He smiled down at her, scooping her up in his arms and spun her around.

"Gods I was so worried about you! When I heard about what happened I couldn't stop thinking about you! I'm so glad you're okay," he said, smothering her with love and affection that she soaked up like a sponge.

"Come on, I want you to meet someone," she said, tugging on his arm. He pulled it back reluctantly.

"Ah, I'm afraid I'm not quite ready yet," he said, tossing a nervous glance Geralt's way.

"It's okay, he's nice," Ciri assured him. He chuckled.

"Maybe to you."

"What?"

"Well I really should get back to work. I'll talk more after I'm done, I promise," he called as he made his way back to his instrument. Ciri stood there, dumbfounded as she made her way back to the table.

"That was weird," she said sitting down at the table. Geralt tensed.

"Why? What did he say?" he asked, slightly too eager to be considered normal, especially for him. Ciri looked at him quizzically, picking up on the strangeness of it all.

"Um, well at first he was thrilled to see me, then I mention introducing him to you both and he suddenly starts walking away saying he has to work," she said, trailing off.

"Don't take it personal, like you said, he's very popular. People want to hear him sing," Geralt tried to comfort her in the knowledge. She sighs, placing her elbow on the table and resting her chin in her palm.

"I know but he seemed. I don't know, weird? Off? Definitely not like himself," she noted. Yennefer smirked, and looked Geralt up and down. He tilted his head, furrowing his brows and fixing her with a warning look. He was barely holding back a growl. If she said anything...

"You sure it has nothing to do with how you dumped him on the dragon hunt?" she said slyly, smirking with a dangerously arched brow.

"Yennefer!" he snarled her name. He wanted to move past that, he had apologized to her, now he needed to do the same for Jaskier. And now Ciri was glaring at him with real heat behind her eyes.

"Geralt, what's she talking about?" Despite the fire that burned behind her eyes, her voice sounded ice cold. Okay she was definitely spending too much time with Yennefer.

"Nothing of your concern," he said firmly, glaring daggers at Yennefer for telling. The child had no reason to know.

"It is if you hurt Jaskier!"

"I didn't-" he started only to be interrupted again.

"Not physically," Yennefer said slyly, taking a drink. Geralt sighed in defeat.

"Yes I did, okay? But I regret it, and I need to make it right," he said matter of factly. Ciri's expression softened. She reached out and held his hand.

"It's okay, I'm sure he'll forgive you. But just so you know, he's a sucker for grand gestures," she said with a wink. The tavern had erupted with chatter and song requests. Jaskier seems to have finally settled on one. His fingers worked fast upon his instrument.

"Don't think You're mighty cos I said so. It's fine you've got no time to make it home."

Jaskier's voice was deep and smooth, just like Geralt remembered. He caught Jaskier staring his way before the man turned his gaze away as quickly as he noticed.

"And every question's a creeping doubt. I wanna stop the pain, but I don't wanna freak you out. Oh horror the house is shaking, Take it easy. 1, 2, 3, No worries no, no not from me."

Geralt was entranced. As he listened to him, dozens of memories flashed before his eyes. Visions filled with happiness, laughter, fear, singing, anger, screaming... Some of the best memories Geralt has, especially in recent years, are shared with Jaskier. He longed for those times. He wanted nothing more than to wake to blue eyes and a blinding smile. Jaskier moved to the chorus, still beautiful and slower than some of his other songs, but still peppy and upbeat. Most of the tavern's patrons seem to be affiliated with the tune enough to confidently sing along.

"One life to trade away, No use in keeping much I say. Your heart's not mine to weigh. And I'll have words with fate. This earth is burned but I'll sing rain."

Geralt liked this song. As he sat there listening he wondered how he composed it. How many different words bounced around inside his mind before settling on the right ones? How many scratches and scribbles marked in his notebook? He used to have the privilege of knowing, but had never truly appreciated what he had until it was gone. He would never make such a mistake again.

He sang a few more songs, running on requests and ale. But the hour grew later and more patrons retired to their rooms. Jaskier could only put it off for so long, but as long as one other table was there, he would play. The people that did fill the chairs were getting tired, not as eager to hear loud and upbeat music. When a young man requested he play his song Fair, he faltered.

"Uh, perhaps you'd prefer a different song," he tried, casting a nervous glance in Geralt's direction. The song was not only about him, but Yennefer as well, and he wasn't too keen on playing it with both of them here, let alone one.

"Please? It's my birthday and that's my favorite song," he said, batting his lashes prettily. Jaskier sighed, "Well then, how could I say no to that? C'mere," he gestured with a single finger. His eyes darted towards Geralt's table. He was staring at him intently. Good, he wanted him to see this. Jaskier pulled the man closer by his collar and planted a kiss upon his cheek. In that moment they locked eyes. Geralt's burned with regret and jealousy. Jaskier's were smug and a little scared, with the smallest hint of rage.

"Um Geralt? Your mug's leaking," Ciri pointed out. Geralt immediately let go of his grip, realizing too late he had been clenching his fist a little too tightly around his tankard. He wiped up the spill and called the waitress for another.

The boy was flustered and blushing, touching his cheek with delighted awe as he watched Jaskier play his song.

"She promises to fight them all when it all becomes too much. And he, he curses at the world for Leaving him behind and he's falling out of touch. And she is stronger than he's ever been he knows. And she brushes her hand through His hair, he's got so much fucking hair."

Jaskier is glaring at him, Geralt knows it. He dips his head down, unable to meet the gaze. However, he still feels the heat of his stare burn holes through his back. Ciri watched curiously.

"And he holds her close just to keep the world at bay. And when they're sure no-one can hear them. She'll turn to him to say, she'll turn to him and say-"

Yennefer listened with her head tilted, taking Jaskier in fully. He had been broken, barely hanging on and searching for a new purpose. He had been lost, found, and lost again. The strange fuzzy feeling of magic that had fizzled so faintly within him buzzed with a bit more certainty, even if he wasn't aware of it himself. After all, she hadn't known what lie beneath her skin until Tissaia forced her to unlock her potential.

"It's not fair, It's not fair how much I love you. It's not fair, Cos you make me laugh when I'm actually Really fucking cross at you for something. And he'll say, Oh how oh how unreasonable. How unreasonably in love I am with everything you do. I'll spend my days so close to you cos if I'm Standing here maybe everyone will think I'm alright."

It's funny, she thought. He used to be scared of her, or maybe intimidated was a better word. Threatened. They had been competing for the same thing after all. Well for what it's worth, he can have it.

"I've seen enough he says I know exactly what I want. And it's this life that we've created, Inundated with the fated thought of you. And if you asked me to, if you asked me I would lose it all Like petals in a storm, cos darling I was born."

How dare they come to him like this? What are they now, some happy little family? Geralt gave her the child she always wanted, surely she'd never leave him now. He can only imagine the disgustingly amazing sex they probably have when Ciri wonders off. Did they find him so they could rub it in his face, or was it a complete accident? Was this the princess's idea? Did they seek him out for help? So many questions whirled through his head as he finished the song. He figured it was time to get some answers. He bid what was left of his audience goodnight before making his way to the table.

Yennefer wore a judging, knowing look as she watched him come closer. Geralt still looked to be in a state of shock, and, was that jealousy on his face? Jaskier liked to have thought he could read witchers, especially his witcher, extremely well. He had only kissed the boy to distract himself, to show Geralt he was just fine without him. That he could move on. But both Eskel and Lambert had seemed insistent that Geralt was regretful of his actions, so perhaps he did care. He smirked at the thought. He would make this as difficult as he could then. If he really did want him, he'd have to earn him back. Walking towards them with a renewed swagger he hadn't felt in months, he threw his arms open.

"Darling, I'm so sorry about earlier. Let me give you a proper greeting," he said as Ciri barreled into his arms. She tucked her head against his chest, grinning from ear to ear as she squeezed the breath from his lungs. Ah, so she'd been training.

She let him go, suddenly feeling the tension in the air. She faltered for a moment before speaking. "Um, Jaskier this is Yenn. And I uh, I think you know Geralt?" she said with such timidness it was more of a question than a statement. Jaskier put on his fakest smile, the one Geralt knew was fake.

"Why yes love, we do. Geralt, care to explain?" he asked and cocked his head. Geralt huffed out a breath of annoyance, with a possible hint of amusement. Jaskier's heart ached.

"Why don't you sit down first?" he asked and motioned them over with his hand. Before he knew what was happening, Ciri rushed past him and slammed herself in the seat next to Yennefer, thus forcing him to sit next to Geralt. He crossed his arms and popped out his hip.

"I will only sit next to the child," he said sternly. He didn't know what they were calling her now, but he knew better than to use her real name. Geralt rolled his eyes.

"Jaskier don't be ridiculous, sit down," he said. His eye looked almost pleading, his pupils swelled up like a begging cat. It was utterly adorable. He nearly wanted to do what he said. It seemed so tempting... But no. He wouldn't let him win.

He placed his hands on his hips and raised an eyebrow, turning his nose up the slightest bit. He even went as far as to look him up and down with a smirk, "Make me."

Before he could think better of it, Geralt reached out and grabbed a hold of his wrist, yanking him down to the seat. Jaskier was caught off guard and stumbled, falling right into Geralt's lap. They both stared, flustered as their eyes met. Ciri snickered from behind her hand, and even Yennefer gave a small chuckle. They both gathered themselves and Jaskier scrambled out of his lap and in the seat next to him. Jaskier still looked a bit dazed. Geralt leaned closer to him. He didn't pull away.

"Made you," he said, and when Jaskier turned to look at him, he looked so damn smug and cocky. That bastard.

Jaskier brushed himself off and cleared his throat. "Okay then. Uh where was I? Oh um-you were just about to tell her how we know each other," he said, clearly flustered. He was looking anywhere but to his right.

"He's my bard. And my best friend." Jaskier's head jerked upon hearing those words.

"Sure as hell didn't show it much," he argued. Geralt sighed heavily.

"I know, and I should've never treated you that way. I'm sorry for the mountain, and the djinn, and only ever letting you ride Roach if you were hurt, and every time I was cruel or harsh with you. I'm more sorry than I've ever been." His words dripped with truth, forged after hours of regret and meditation. These words were carefully formatted and hand picked just for him. If Jaskier had been standing, his knees would've buckled. He let out a strangled squeak. Geralt continued.

"It was wrong then, and it's wrong now, so I, uh, understand if you're still mad." This time it was Jaskier's turn to hum in lieu of words. "But I want you to know you're my best friend and it won't happen again. I promise," he swore. There was so much emotion swirling in those golden irises. Jaskier believed everything he said.

He took a breath to steady himself before he spoke. "Okay. I accept your apology," he said. He didn't dare say more for fear of revealing his hand. Geralt didn't hint at stronger feelings for him than just friendship, so neither would he. He was content with this, had always been content with this. He could still have his witcher and the life on the road that he missed dearly. He just had to bury the burning love in his chest. But he was used to that. What he wasn't used to was Yennefer's unwavering presence. He wasn't looking forward to it. The way she loved to jab and mock him, flaunting her relationship with Geralt in his face. She was always devilishly smart and cunning, much like a raven. They didn't get along well, or perhaps they did. It was almost like a game between them, to see who can ruffle the most feathers.

But the smirk she wore wasn't smug or triumphant like she won something. It was something softer, more akin to fondness, a sort of teasing glimmer in her eyes. She knew something he didn't. That wasn't new. Geralt was avoiding his direct gaze. He was tired of the stretching silence and spoke.

"I'm assuming it's an accident that you happened upon me. Or was it intentional?" he ventured to ask. Geralt blinked.

"Yes and no? I mean, I was looking for you, but I didn't expect to find you here. We're on our way to the Keep," he explained. Jaskier leaned back in the booth, an amused, surprised expression on his face. His arms were folded over his chest and his lips quirked up in a smirk.

"Huh, he wasn't lying." Geralt narrowed his eyes.

"Who?"

"Lambert. He said you were looking for me. Didn't believe him at the time, but I guess he proved me wrong," he said, chuckling. Geralt's jaw dropped as he stared at him. Ciri giggled and Yennefer watched on in amusement.

"Lam- fucking Lambert found you before I did? How long ago was this?" he asked. Now Jaskier was the one squinting at him.

"Only a few months, maybe three at the most." His smirk grew.

"Damnit, how many witchers have you met since I saw you?" Geralt wasn't the best at expressing his emotions, they all knew that, but he was even worse at hiding them when they fought to rise up. Geralt was jealous and Jaskier was drinking it up.

"Ah, so I suppose Eskel had his little chat with you." His eyes sparkled with mischief as he turned to look at Geralt. He could feel the heat radiating from his body, his nostrils flared out. He looked utterly delicious. Jaskier slipped on a charming smile. "Good. You know, I think he was my favorite. Charming, nice, and extremely handsome-"

"Jaskier, can I talk with you?" he cut him off, voice a deep growl. A pleasant chill ran up his spine. Oh he liked jealous Geralt.

"You already are darling," he said, voice sugary sweet. He's gotten underneath his skin already. That didn't take long. Geralt rolled his eyes.

"I meant somewhere private." He stared at him, hoping he wouldn't have to explain himself. Jaskier made an O with his mouth and slid from his seat, allowing Geralt to follow him. The larger man lead him outside and around the corner of the tavern, close to the stables.

"Oh is Roach here? I've missed her terribly, you wouldn't believe-" Before he knew what was going on, he was slammed against the wall with Geralt's body pressed against his. He promptly shut up, a blush creeping up his cheeks.

"W-well I certainly can't say I haven't imagined this," he breathed out in an airy chuckle.

"Come with us," Geralt said.

Jaskier was shocked to say the least. "What?"

"Come with us. To Kaer Morhen. Ciri likes you, and right now we need to keep her safe. A-and you're a professor, and you're smart- she's gonna need a teacher." Jaskier deflated.

"Is that all?" he asked, trying to mask the disappointment in his voice.

"No." Jaskier jerked his head to look at him. Geralt moved his arm from where it was leaning against the wall to caress Jaskier's cheek. He shivered. "I want you to come with us. I missed you Jaskier. And I know I'm not- I'm not good with this. Emotions, and talking about what I want. But I'm trying and-" he looked at him, pupils wide and eyes pleading. "I want you."

"Fuck Geralt, you don't know how long I've wanted to hear that." Geralt surged forth, planting a surprisingly sweet kiss against Jaskier's lips. Jaskier pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. He didn't want to be able to breathe, he was hungry for this and wouldn't waste another second. Their teeth clanged and clashed as their tongues danced together as one. When Jaskier was satisfyingly breathless, they pulled apart, still held in each other's embrace.

"I want you too." These words sparked another passionate make out. Then Jaskier pulled away, remembering, "Wait, but I thought- you and Yenn-"

"Just friends." Jaskier couldn't help the smile that broke out on his face. He grew himself at Geralt, who easily caught him. He wrapped his legs around his waist, carding his fingers through his hair. He surged forth and caught his lips in another kiss. Geralt spoke around his lips.

"I don't have to worry about you and Eskel, do I?" Jaskier chuckled.

"I like it when you're possessive," he said, thrusting his hips forward. Geralt growled as he dove in for another heated kiss. And just like that, Jaskier's torn heart began to mend.

#jaskier #elf!jaskier #geralt #geralt of rivia #eskel #lambert #yennefer #yennefer of vengerberg #ciri #ciri of cintra #princess cirilla #the witcher #the witcher fic #witcher #witcher fic #song fic

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chubbyreaderwriter · 4 years

Text

Songbird

Jaskier x Plus Size/Chubby Reader

Imagine: Jaskier tries to get a date with you by constantly singing to you until you give in

Word Count: 1.35k

Warning: swearing

Masterlist

You wondered how Geralt put up with Jaskier for days on end. It had been two hours that you’d met the pair and already you were sick of the bard and his eccentric ways. It seemed that your feelings were not mutual as Jaskier was determined to win you over with his ‘talents’. The brunette had not stopped singing the moment he laid eyes on you. You had accompanied him and Geralt to lead him to the king’s castle but it was a two day journey and while it was a simple escort job, you quickly got into the mindset that the money was not worth it. You travelled side by side with Geralt, who was atop Roach and you were riding your own horse, and Jaskier was walking slightly behind.

“Is he always this irritating?” Geralt scoffed, looking straight ahead, “Unfortunately, it’s even worse now that you’ve piqued his interest.” You groaned and kept walking, doing your best to ignore the singing bard travelling behind you. You would’ve offered the bard a seat on your horse but he wasn't complaining about walking and you weren't too eager to get a closer listen to his crooning.

“Toss a coin to your witcher, O’ valley of plenty, O’ valley of plenty,” Jaskier cleared his throat as he finished singing the same song for the third time in a row. “So, lovely (Y/N), what did you think. Wrote it myself you know.” Rolling your eyes, you kept facing forward, “I’ve heard better.” Jaskier sputtered and Geralt smirked but said nothing in response to your comment. “Maybe you'd like to hear something else then?” “Not re-” “Excellent.”

Gritting your teeth, you stopped your horse, “Get on bard, the sooner we get there, the sooner I can be blessed with the pleasure of your absence.” Jaskier perked up and was quick to hop up onto your horse, sitting in the space behind you and holding his arms around your waist. “Well, I must say, this is far better than walking, although the view of your behind was most pleasant.” You ignored him as you gestured your horse to speed up, Geralt following closely behind.

You were grateful that without his instrument, Jaskier wasn't one for singing but he still had a mouth and that meant he could still talk and talk he did. For hours, he asked you numerous questions, ranging from pointless and ridiculous to extremely personal questions that would make almost any maiden blush. But not you. Convinced that Jaskier was just amusing himself by taking an interest in you, you ignored every single one of advances, answering him with silence each time.

“Geralt, I think out escort is a mute.” “Maybe she just doesn't like you, Jaskier.” You huffed a small laugh and Jaskier was a little offended, “Oh I see, you’re more into the powerful, white-haired, stoic type huh? Perhaps the handsome, musically gifted, dashing type isn't for you?” “No it is, I just haven't met anyone that fits that description yet.” You were thoroughly amused with the way Jaskier kept bouncing back from every rejection you sent his way. It was almost enough for you to like him. Almost.

Dusk was steadily approaching and you all decided to set up camp for the night, it wasn't safe to travel at night. The darkness played tricks on your eyes. The three of you were sat around a fire and you were eating some fruit you'd packed into the leather pouch on your belt. It had been a peaceful silence until you heard the strumming of Jaskier’s instrument. Geralt pulled an annoyed face at his companion and you sighed, too exhausted to say anything to him. Jaskier cleared his throat and begun his song.

“When a humble bard, came across the woods

he met a beautiful woman, she had all the goods.

With (e/c) eyes and (h/c) hair, she’s the one I need.

Yes, she’s a beauty indeed

and all night long she will plead,

for me to-”

Geralt shifted his eyes over to you, quickly figuring out what Jaskier was singing about, “I think that’s enough, Jaskier.” Seeing the glancing look from the witcher was enough for you to put two and two together and you glared at Jaskier, “Watch it, bard. Just because I’m a woman, it doesn't mean I won’t kill you.” Jaskier nodded, “Oh no, I don't doubt it, but how can you expect me to control myself in the presence of such a-” “Shut it Jaskier, go to sleep.”

Geralt got up to head over to where Roach and your horse was tied up. You sighed and leaned back against a tree trunk, your arms folding over your chest and you closed your eyes. “You look exquisite when you’re sleeping.” “Fuck off, bard.” “Yeah, okay.”

In the next morning, it seemed you where the last one to awaken, seeing Jaskier and Geralt in mid conversation. Well, Jaskier was talking to Geralt while the witcher was adjusting the saddle on his horse. You got up and brushed off some of the leaves and dirt that you'd gotten on you from sleeping on the ground. Noticing that you’d woken up, Jaskier walked over to you, “Good morning, lovely (Y/N), your beauty is certainly reason enough to put a smile on my face this day.” You raised your eyebrow at Jaskier but didn't say anything, just hopping straight onto your horse and walked it away from the other two, “You can ride with Geralt today, it's only a few miles now.”

Jaskier scoffed, “So he doesn't say anything and gets to be on a first name basis but I’m just a bard?” He mumbled to himself but you heard him and smiled to yourself in amusement. Although Jaskier was annoying, he seemed entertaining enough. Sadly, now that his hands were free from holding onto you (since Geralt didn't let him touch Roach), he was free to play his instrument, which meant more singing.

Thankfully, he stuck to songs about the witcher next to you but it was slowly grating on you to hear the same song over and over again for hours. The sight of the king’s castle brought you an amount of relief that you never thought you'd ever feel. “There, my job is done. I’ll be on my way now.” “Wait.” Geralt stopped you and you turned to face him. He threw a pouch into your hands and you opened it to find quite a few gold coins, “This is payment for here and back. We will still need assistance back to the village.” You clenched your jaw, “Fine. Hurry up and get your payment from the king, witcher. I don't like to be kept waiting.”

Geralt nodded and got down off his horse and walked towards the castle, leaving Jaskier with you. The bard turned to you and grinned, “Ah, I was wondering when he would leave. Has anyone ever told you how gorgeous you are?” “Would it shock you into silence if I said no?” Jaskier genuinely looked surprised and you frowned, “Now that is a crime worth death. Although, it is my honour to be the first to remind you of your beauty, lovely (Y/N). Perhaps once we arrive back, you could let me remind you of it over a pint in your choice of pub.”

You rolled your eyes, “You never stop do you?” “Is that a yes?” Looking at the castle doors, you narrowed your eyes, “No, it's not.” Jaskier hummed, “Well I suppose rejection is the start of many great songs of sadness.” You heard him plucking at his strings and your head snapped into his direction, “Fine! One drink and that’s it, but no singing for the rest of the journey or no deal.” Jaskier grinned to himself, “I will look forward to it, my dear (Y/N). I shall think of nothing more the whole journey back to the...” You stopped listening to his words, focusing on the castle doors to look for Geralt. At least you got him to stop singing.

#the witcher #the witcher x reader #the witcher x chubby reader #the witcher x plus size reader #jaskier #jaskier x reader #jaskier x chubby reader #jaskier x plus size reader #plus size reader #x plus size reader #chubby reader #x chubby reader

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underatedcharactersunite · 4 years

Text

A Tale of Two Souls; Meeting Jaskier

Summary; As Geralt and Y/N continue to journey to their next location, they come across a Bard named Jaskier. From that moment onwards, Y/N's life is turned upside down. Her life is no longer envolving around fighting Monsters and exploring the world. Jaskier draws out emotions that she buried a long time ago. Who knows what's going to happen. Pairing; Jaskier X Female Reader WordCount; 3,234 Warnings; A couple of swear words. Angst, Fluff

Series Masterlist

Travelling with Geralt was a unique experience. On one hand, it was extremely rewarding, being able to travel to many beautiful and adventurous places, on the other hand, it often entitled getting covered in some sort of creature guts.

Apart from that Geralt's company was rather pleasant. Contrary to people's opinions about Witcher's; Geralt was not heartless nor a Monster instead, he could be kind and often put other's before himself. Over the years, Geralt had become like a brother to you, a very overprotective, menacing brother, who would willingly kill anyone, who ventured to mess with you.

"The Tavern is not too far from here. We will stop and have a drink." Looking ahead as you rode on your horse Tarot, Geralt was right, in the faint distance you could make out the Taverns silhouette.

"You mean I'll drink one while you attempt to drink the entire Tavern dry." You taunted. You were fortunate with Geralt, while he was not a massive talker, he was never easily offended. So ridiculing between the two of you was light and playful.

"You should learn to be quicker if you want more than one cup." Grinning, the two of you proceeded in silence as you made your way up towards the Tavern.

Entering any location with Geralt always had to be approached with caution. Any stranger was a potential contender for inherent conflict. The ancient tales of Witcher's had left everyone with a bitter attitude. People will often quick to require Geralt's services, yet the moment he entered the territory they deemed theirs they suddenly. considered it their right to throw stones and insults.

It occurred almost every location, the two of you visited. It disturbed you how willingly they were to ask Geralt to kill the Monster, but the second he required a place to eat or sleep they wanted nothing to do with him.

Tying up Roach and Tarot, you pressed a loving pet on Tarot's head. In the background, you could some sort of music a bard trying to get paid perhaps. Entering the Tavern, your suspicions were correct. As long as he frained an attempt to bother the two of you, he would be fine.

Taking a seat at the table in the darkest corner that was spare. You called the women over who was passing out the beverages. It was easier for you to ask, less eventuality for conflict. Removing two from her tray, you presented her with some coin to pay for them.

"You didn't have to do that."

"Geralt, I thought we already spoke of this. We take turns in paying for things. We are equal in this friendship. That means paying for things equally." Taking a sip of your mead, you acknowledged your surroundings. The Tavern wasn't all too bad. You and Geralt had frequented worst places, this by far was one of the finer ones.

"We'll have these and then go, try and find a place to camp for the night." You nodded, staying in one place was never a particularly wise idea. Besides, while the two of you stopped anyway, the two of you weren't able to find anyone who needed your services.

Meanwhile, the Bard continued to sing. Unlike most Bards you previously encountered, this one could sing. His voice soothed your aching mind as you focused on the mead in the cup in front of you. The regulars who frequented the Tavern didn't seem to match with your opinions as they very quickly began to chuck bread rolls at him.

You attempted to force down the laughter that strived to leave your lips. Geralt's eyebrow raised as you forced your cup onto your lips to stifle your laughter. It was all fun and games, until out of the corner of your eye did you witness the Bard travel across the room over to you both.

"I love how you sit in the corner and brood, am I interrupting something?" The Bard questioned as you glanced over to Geralt. You had observed the expression on his unreadable face many times before. If only the Bard was as clued onto Geralt as you were.

"We do not wish to be disturbed." Geralt explained, turning his head away from the Bard, while you decided to take a proper glance at him.

The Bard's eyes were a gorgeous shade of grey contrast to his brown hair which framed his face attractively. You didn't miss the thick patch of chest hair that threatened to escape his peaking from his jacket. Overall, the Bard was attractive.

"Good, yeah good. No one else hesitated to comment on the quality of my performance. Except you two. Come on, you don't wanna keep a man with bread in his pants waiting. You must have some review for me, three words or less." Observing Geralt's signature eye roll, you knew the Bard was going to deal with Geralt's coldness.

The bard seemed unphased as he took the seat right next to you, anxiously anticipating Geralt's thoughts. Geralt was unpredictable, and you had no sign on how was going to reply to the Bard.

"They don't exist."

"What doesn't exist?" The Bard appeared genuinely confused, but you knew exactly the point Geralt was about to make. Taking a sip of the mead as you observed the conversation unfold. The conversation unfolding in front of your very eyes had been the most entertaining one you'd encountered in a while.

"The creatures in your song."

"Yeah, and how would you know.”

"Oh fun, white hair, Big old loner, two very very scary looking swords. I know who you are." As Geralt stood to remove himself from the Bard, you quickly understood it was time to go. Picking up your sword and your bag, you threw it over your shoulder and followed Geralt.

"You're the Witcher? Geralt of Rivia. So if you're Geralt, then you must be Y/N, the enchanting Shieldmaiden. I must say words cannot truly describe your beauty. Called it!"

Within moments, you recognised that while the Bard was gifted in singing and flattery, digression was not one of his gifts. A simple rest top turned into work. One of the patrons named Netty, needed a Devil killing who was stealing their grain. Knowing well enough that the creature they had witnessed was not actually "The Devil" you didn't know quite what you meant to be searching for.

Walking besides Tarot, you followed Geralt quietly. At least the two of you had seemed to rid yourself of the Bard. Although the damage had been done. You presumed it was better than having stones thrown at you, or being chucked out. Besides a job is a job after all.

"Need a hand. I've got two, one for each of the Devil's horns." Out of no-where, the Bard came running down the hill. Perhaps walking away was not a distinct enough hint that Geralt was not willing for company.

"Go away."

"I won't be but a silent backup. Look I heard your note, and yes maybe real adventures would make better stories and you Sir smell choc-full of them amongst other things. I mean what is that Onion, it doesn't matter. Whatever it is, you smell of death and destiny. Heroics and heartbreak."

"It's onion."

"Right yeah. Oh, I could be your barker, spreading the tales of Geralt of Rivia, the butcher of Blaviken. What about you, my sweet lady? Surely you could tell me the many tales that the two of you have shared."

"Geralt it appears you have finally have a fan. Road life does not place well for a Bard. Go back to the Tavern. We'll deal with "the Devil"

"Jaskier, my name is Jaskier." Giving Jaskier a gentle smile, you quickened your step.

"It was lovely to meet you Jaskier, come on Tarot." Walking away, you got several paces in-front of Geralt before he stopped. I thought he was trying to get away from Jaskier. As Geralt turned and glanced at Roach, you had a sinking feeling. This wasn't about to be pleasant.

"Come here."

A horrific thud, and a rattle of Jaskier's lute, he hunched over in agony. If that was not bad enough, Jaskier landed onto the ground with remarkable force. Credit it needed to be given you observed, Jaskier attempted to get up straight away. Against your better nature, you let go of Tarot's reigns to check on Jaskier.

"What have I told you about punching Bards? And you were my polite warnings not enough. Also, why do I get the feeling, you being punched happens a lot." Running a hand through your hair, you bent over to check on Jaskier. Surprisingly Jaskier was nothing but a little winded.

"He was following us, what else was I meant to do?" Setting eyes on Geralt, you cocked your eyebrow.

"I don't know perhaps telling him to leave us alone."

"Wasn't that exactly what you were attempting to do? With excellent failure might I add." Frowning at Geralt's words you rolled your eyes, while you directed your head to Jaskier, you did not miss the small twitch of Geralt's lips. At least someone was amused.

"Jaskier, as you have just experienced. Travelling with a Witcher is dangerous, especially to Bards. Now please return to the Tavern, where you will be safe from everything, including Geralt." Turning away from Jaskier, you mounted Tarot just like Geralt had done with Roach expecting to leave the Bard behind.

"Reading between the lines and the gut punches. Chum, I'd say you have a bit of an image problem. Were I to join you, on this feat to defeat the devil of Posada, I could I relieve you of that title. All the North would be too busy singing the tales of Geralt of Rivia the white wolf or something."

"Butcher is right." You frowned when Geralt said that. You were there when Geralt encountered Renfri you knew he had no choice. They forced him into a decision that was cruel and unfair.

"Geralt, we both know what happened that day was not your fault."

"Do you mind if I hop on there with you, I'm not exactly wearing the right footwear."

"Don't touch Roach." Several paces later, Geralt hoped off of Roach, tying her to a nearby tree. Following Geralt's actions, you joined Geralt by the tree.

"Stay alert and watch the Bard. We don't need a dead Bard on our hands." Agreeing with Geralt, you lightly touched his arm. Geralt never liked being touched, but he understood sometimes you needed to reassure him without saying anything. Following Geralt, you forgot Jaskier had recently joined the two of you.

"Geralt...Y/N...Geralt...Where are you going? Geralt, Y/N, don't leave me? Y/N I thought you were better than him. Hello. What are we looking for again?"

“Blessed Silence,”

"Yeah, I don't really go in for that." Laughter escaped your lips, walking silently alongside Geralt.

"Have you ever hunted a devil before Geralt?"

"Devil's don't exist."

"Then what are we doing?"

"Sometimes there are monsters sometimes there's money rarely both. That's the life."

Out of no-where, something darted past your head. Your senses heightened. Something or someone was out there, and they knew you were there.

“Shit!” Geralt yelled, examing Geralt understanding that as the unknown object darted past you, it had skimmed Geralt's forehead.

"Act two begins. What was that it looks like a tiny cannonball. Oh my gosh, Geralt it is a Devil. Oh, I have to see this magical this mythical-" Jaskier didn't get to finish his sentence as something hit him directly in the forehead and once again he hit the ground with a thud.

"Jaskier!"

"Stay with him I'll deal with Monster." Closing your eyes for a moment, you studied at Geralt.

"Geralt, I thought we made a deal." You contested, but Geralt was already marching away when he decided to stop and shift back to you.

"I agreed to stop hitting Bards."

"The other deal. The one where we deal with Monsters together. So neither of us die."

"I agreed to that when we didn't have to protect the Bard. That is your job. Long ago remember what we promised each other?"

"To make this work, we needed to trust each other." With a hum, Geralt continued marching away, leaving you to deal with Jaskier. Kneeling beside him, you sighed.

"I did warn you in all fairness, but of course you didn't listen. Which means that you'll probably be staying with us, lesson one in being Geralt's companion. If something is thrown at you duck because they never throw only once."

"Lesson two, don't enter someone else's territory." An unknown voice broke your gaze on Jaskier's face. Something hard and heavy smacked your face, knocking you out.

Waking up, my body felt constricted. What happened? One moment you were giving an unconscious Jaskier his first lesson, the second you remember nothing but blackness. It didn't help someone else was trying to escape also.

"This is the part where we escape." You heard Jaskier's voice, at least he was awake, on your other side, you glanced down at the familiar black armour.

"This is the part where they kill us."

"Who's they?" A young female elf came out of no-where, kicking you directly in the face. The main was excruciating, as you opened and closed your jaw trying to get some feeling back into it. She was quick to kick both Geralt and Jaskier, not leaving anyone out.

"Elves."

"Hey that's my lute, give that back. Geralt, do ya Witchering"

"If it's that simple, do you think we'd be all tied up right now?" You snarled, trying to think of a way to get you out of this situation. Receiving another round of kicks, you glared at the female elf if you got free you swore she was going to pay for this. With the female elf speaking in Elvish, you translated it perfectly.

"Oh my elvish speech is rough I only got part of that."

"Humans shut up."

Jaskier spoke back in Elvish, and at that moment, you truly wanted to punch him.

"Do you wanna die right now?" The female elf spoke, turning in Jaskier's direction, trying to make eye contact with him.

"Jaskier, I will buy you a new lute if you just shut up."

"As opposed to later." Geralt snarled. You were beginning to wonder, how you were calm, while the other two were terrified.

"No please not the lute." All of you received another kicking, yours this time aimed perfectly at your chest.

"Leave off he's just a Bard, and she's just a young woman." Unfortunately, the female elf didn't take too kindly to Geralt's words, punches began hitting him repeatedly in the face.

"Leave him alone! What did he do to you? Nothing. We were just walking through, enjoying the scenery." The female elf stopped punching Geralt, turning her focus directly onto you.

"You don't deserve the air you breathe. Everything you touch you destroy." The female elf began to punch after punch directly across your face, but you kept still. Each punch caused the other elf in the corner to snap the lute. Throwing her knee up until your face, you hissed.

"You hide in your golden palaces, beat a bound man and a woman too scared to even look at them in the eye," Jaskier yelled as you rested your head back, working your hands to find his. This was never meant to be his problem to deal with.

"Do you like my golden Palace. Hmm, does it live up to the tales you humans tell?" As she gripped Geralt's jaw, he took the time to headbutt her. She landed a distance away from us, fair enough for the beatings to stop for now.

"Wait what's wrong with her?"

"She's sick."

"Oh, who's this?"

"He's Filavandrel, King of the elves."

"You were stealing from them." The Devil looking creature, explained the situation between the elves and the humans. How they were forced out of their homes, and have to use a Slyivian to do their bidding.

"No-one was supposed to get hurt."

"What's three humans in the ground? When countless elves have died."

"One human, the other's complicated."

"Thanks for that Geralt."

"Let them both go."

"Then Posada will know that we've been stealing. Humans will attack, many will die on both sides."

"The lesser evil. No matter what you chose, you'll come out bloody and hating yourself. Trust me." Geralt's words stung. Knowing that after all this time, he was unable to see himself just as you saw him hurt you in unimaginable ways. "Well that's the problem, I can't, and this is necessary."

"I understand, as long as you understand that it won't be long before you follow me in death."

"Yes, because they pushed us from viable soil, even chaos is polluted. Synthetically enhanced so humans can make magic."

"Chaos is the same as it's always been. Humans just adapted better."

"You say adapt, and I say destroy."

"You are choosing to starve, your cutting off your ear to spite your face."

"You think this is about pride. My elders worked with humans and got robbed of all they had. When they fought back, they were slaughtered. The great cleansing humans called it. I called it digging a mass grave. For everyone I loved. Now the humans proudly watch these fields, grow. Our babies fertilizer for their grain. I don’t wish to bury anyone else. I was once Filavandrel of the Silver towers, now I’m Filavandrel of the edge of the world. If I bring my people down from the mountains, it would mean bowing to humans. They’ll make slaves of us”

"Then go somewhere else. Rebuild, get strong again. Show the humans that you are more then what they fear you to be."

“Like you Witcher.”

"Not too long ago, I felt like you. I was angry at the entire world, the situations I was placed in. The way my life turned out. I saw the good in no-one. Until Geralt found me one day. Geralt taught me to accept everyone, no matter what they have done to you in the past." You informed Filavandrel only the top of a very long and complicated story.

“She's right. I have learnt to live with them. It wasn't easy, but I realised to live,I needed to learn to deal with them."

"Please my King there are others a new generation, of us that wish to fight. Let us take back what's ours. Starting with now." Filavandrel released his knife never in your wildest dreams could you imagine did you imagine dying with Geralt and a newfound Bard.

"Wait, the Witcher could have killed me, but he didn't. He's different. Like us." Torque was shoved aside by Filavandrel.

"If you must kill me. I am ready. But the Slyivan’s right, don’t call me human."

Hearing Geralt so willing to die, broke your heart into smithereens as you stared down in your lap to prevent anyone from the tears that escaped your eyes. You didn't need to look at Geralt to know he was currently staring at the blade. Waiting anxiously for your fate, in a way you were almost glad that Filavandrel had decided to kill you all. It was better than dealing with Geralt afterwards.

One.

Two

Three.

Thud.

#The Tale of Two Souls Series #Jaskier imagines #the Witcher imagines #Jaskier imagine #The Witcher imagine #Jaskier one shot #The Witcher one shot #Jaskier oneshot #The Witcher oneshot #Jaskier X Reader

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ficsandcatsandficsandcats · 4 years

Note

Okay so I know you've done a similar fic with reader defending Jaskier in a bar, however I'm still a sucker for overly protective babies. I've always loved the idea of the smaller person picking a fight and quickly being overtaken by the stronger, and just when the stronger person tries to gloat... tiny one HEADBUTTS THEM IN THE JAW AND KEEPS GOING. You think you wouldnt mind doing another "reader defends Jask's honor" where the reader is 90 lbs of unbridled rage, like an infuriated kitten? 😂

Fandom: The WitcherPairing: Jaskier x ReaderWord Count: 1,461Rating: T for swearing and some mild violenceTaglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak a/n: I will never tire of defending our boy pls/thx.

As days went, this one was about par for the course. You’d been working at the tavern for a couple of months now and it wasn’t unusual for a travelling bard to pop by in the hopes of earning some coin. Some of them were received very well, others not so much. The first time the crowd had turned especially ugly on a performer you’d been horrified and complained to the owner that something had to be done to make sure that at the very least they weren’t pelted with food. The owner had dismissed you, stating they all knew how this worked, bards and patrons alike, and to keep passing out ale and keeping your nose down. You’d done just that but it was wearing on you quickly and you knew you were just one more rude patron from snapping.

You were immediately worried when the bard came through the door. First of all, his clothes made him stand out like a sore thumb. Then there was his somewhat foppish posturing and way of talking that amused and, if you were totally honest, somewhat charmed you but put the rest of the people off. When he performed you could tell he had great talent and hoped that may keep people calm and for the most part it did. Until it didn’t.

“Fuck off!” a voice cried from the crowd. You knew the it well. He was one of the regulars, always an ass to you and the other staff and the first to try and start a fight.

“Oy!” you snapped, “Listen quietly or feel free to leave.”

You couldn’t tell who was more surprised, the bard or the man. It bought you some quiet though and the bard quickly continued performing his song, a bawdy number about a fishmonger’s daughter that you knew you’d have stuck in your head for ages.

“You can pull on this horn!” the same man yelled, gesturing crudely.

“One more outburst and you’re out of here,” you warned. You could feel your face growing hot with ill-concealed rage at his rudeness and at the way the man smirked as though you were a gnat he could just swipe away or ignore. The bard played through your yelling and you prayed his song would end soon. His voice rose in the final notes and a chunk of bread sailed through the air and thwapped him right in the nose.

“Right that’s it,” you heard yourself say as you hurled yourself over the bar and stormed over to the man who’d thrown it. He hardly registered you until you punched his shoulder to get his attention.

“Get out and don’t come back,” you demanded. You knew he was taller than you even sitting but when he stood and hovered a good foot above you, some part of you, some much more logical part knew you should be scared. But that part wasn’t in control right now.

“You need to mind your manners,” he said.

“Hey now you really don’t,” you hear the bard saying but you grip the man’s collar and surprise both of you again when you’re able to wrench him towards the door before he gets his bearings and halts your progress.

“Alright I was trying to be a gentleman but I guess there’s only one way to teach you respect,” the man says and swings a heavy palm towards your face. You dodge it but the attempt cuts through that final strand tethering you to your sanity and you leap at him, fists colliding with nose and chin and chest. He swears and you feel two strong arms capture your shoulders, lifting you off the ground and shaking you like a ragdoll.

“Now,” he says, pausing when you stop swinging at him, “You know bet-”

His words are cut off as you headbutt him in the jaw and he drops you. You fall to the ground in a heap, not sure if the blood running down your forehead is from you or him. He roars and stumbles a bit, disoriented by the attack, and you rise back up and shove him towards the doors. He tries to right himself and swipe for you again but you parry his arm and land a punch in his gut so quickly and so hard you knock the air out of him for a moment.

“Have. Some. Manners. You. Horse’s. Arse,” your words are punctuated by your fists but he finally seizes one of your hands, capturing your tiny fist in his very large one that he begins to twist, sending shooting pain up your arm. It’s reaching the point where you know if he keeps twisting it’s going to break when there is a loud crack and the fist loosens. You pull back and then look up just in time for the man to fall to the ground unconscious. Standing behind him is the bard, his beautiful lute broken in half and dangling from his hands. He looks at you with wide eyes full of surprise and concern and you wipe at your face, blood rubbing off on your hand as you do.

“You’re fired,” you hear the owner call.

“I quit,” you yell back, not sure what you would do but knowing anything would be better than working for someone who stood idly by in the face of bastardry. You nod at the bard and wince when you try to move your wrenched arm. You head out the door, stepping over the felled man as you do. You’ve only just crossed the threshold of the tavern when the bard stops you.

“Are you alright?” he asks, eyeing your forehead and face and glancing down at your already purpling wrist.

“Oh yeah, occupational hazard and all that,” you answer glibly.

“It was very noble of you to defend me but I fear it’s come at a great cost to your health as well as your livelihood,” he says, gesturing to the tavern.

“It wasn’t right for him to yell those things. You’re a beautiful performer you know. I mean, your music is beautiful,” you say and you hope he doesn’t notice the blush that comes over your face at the slip.

“I’m Jaskier,” he says, extending a hand and then awkwardly retracting it as he realizes your arm is too hurt to shake.

“Y/N,” you say with a little nod, “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Is there a healer nearby? Somewhere I can take you?” he asks, walking by your side as you begin to set off down the road.

“I’ll deal with it,” you say bravely though you’re trying very hard not to cry from the stinging.

“I have a better idea. I have a companion, he’s currently away but he should be returning by nightfall. He could heal you and then you could travel with us until we find you a new place of employ, one more deserving of you,” Jaskier suggests. From anyone else you would immediately dismiss the offer, believing they were only making it out of obligation, but there is genuine eagerness in Jaskier’s eyes and you can tell that he means it.

“Ok,” you relent. You tell yourself that you’re excited at the prospect of a qualified healer helping you instead of your own fumbling attempts and the opportunity to travel and find better work than you’ve been left with in this tiny shithole town. You tell yourself that it has nothing to do with getting to spend more time with the handsome bard who would break his instrument to help protect you and thought you were deserving of better things. Who even in this brief time you’d known him, made you feel like you should want more for yourself.

“Excellent! Now, first things first,” he says and pulls off his doublet revealing a very fine undershirt below, allowing you to see the shape of his surprisingly muscular frame as he twists the garment in his hands into something more like a rope.

“Now hold still, I will be gentle but it may hurt a little,” he says as he gingerly lifts the arm with the injured wrist and wraps the doublet around it, tying it around your neck.

“What is this then?” you ask, distracted by the sudden closeness of him and the way his arms wrapped around you as he adjusted the makeshift sling.

“That will keep it steady so it doesn’t swing around as we walk. And I think we may want to do that soon because that man won’t be asleep forever and I only had the one lute,” Jaskier explains. You walk together towards the edge of the village and an unknown future that you can already tell will be filled with plenty more excitement.

#Anonymous #jaskier x reader #jaskier imagines #drabble #reader request

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diamondcamefromhell · 4 years

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Crazy witch

Jaskier x witch!Reader [non-romance]

Summary: Y/N is a witch, who after graduating Brotherhood, abandoned her post, not really enjoying serving royal clowns. This lead to her becoming friends with Yennefer, a witch of similar nature, as two of them go to look for Geralt, Yen’s love.

Warnings: Swearing

Word count: 2,033

A/N: I am posting three posts today, as the first two were just reuploads, as the tags werent working [hope they work now] but usually i probs will stick to one or two posts a day. i hope you enjoy this little fic i wrote, i have a lot of ideas, but timeless love is taking a lot of time, as i want to write ahead so i have something to post during my work days, but more one-offs are coming, maybe even some headcanons

requests are open & all feed back is appreciated [can be left anonymously on my ask page!]

“Yennefer, wait!” I say, rushing after my friend, who glances at me, not slowing down her pace.

“Y/N, go back.” She says coldly, as I finally catch up to her. I breathe heavily, still half-running. She now glares at me, stopping. “I said go back.”

“Yeah, how about no?” I say in between my breaths. Her violet eyes spark up, as she presses her lips. “Oh, let me come along. This town is mighty boring, and you know it too.”

“You are safer here.” I roll my eyes, as she sighs. “I don’t want to babysit you.”

“First of all, fuck you.” I say, jokingly pushing her, as she finally breaks a smile. “Secondly, I can take care of myself, Yen. And don’t worry, I wont steal Geralt.”

“You can have the Witcher for all I care.” She says, proudly, but I know she would break my knees if I dared to look at him wrong. She had love written all over her face.

“You said he travels with a friend too.” I grab her hand, and she doesn’t push me away. I know I’m getting on her good side. “You can have one as well.”

“You are better than Jaskier.” She says, nudging me. We begin to walk, and I know I am tagging along now.

“I am a witch,” I wink at Yen, who grins, “better than any bard.”

Yennefer never said she was going to look for Geralt. But I knew she was heading out for that. We were close friends, at the end of the day. While I didn’t go to brotherhood with her, I much like her, didn’t like serving royal clowns, and abandoned my duties. We ran into each other and quickly became friends.

But since I was younger than her, she was ever so protective. I was nowhere near as powerful as her, at the end of the day, I didn’t bear any elven blood, but I could take care of myself. She knew it too, but more often than not, she told me to stay back.

That’s why I never met Witcher with his bard. Even if she would talk about Geralt a lot. Maybe I will finally get to see them.

She decides it’s best to ride, so we take our horses, embarking on the adventure. A sense of excitement rushes over me, as we gallop out of town. The breeze is warm, as the sun is just rising. The day seems clear.

However it takes us a week to find them. She sees a horse, who seems like a normal mare to me, but Yen insists it’s Roach. More so the Roach. Tied next to a tavern that has a name so faded, I can’t make it out. We tie our horses as Yennefer looks at me.

“They can’t know we looked for them.” She hisses at me, as if that wasn’t obvious. I hear loud cheering from the inside, anxious to get it.

“Right. Let’s say we are looking for…” I try to think of something. “A place to sleep.”

“Sure.” She rolls her eyes, taking a deep breath. I like seeing her anxious, it reminds me she is not that different from me.

We open the door as the smell hits me. Ale. Strong, strong sent of ale. And blood. I frown, looking around to see a white-haired man, his hands covered in blood. He didn’t seem to care, drinking his ale, looking like he is ready to kill again. His yellow eyes focused on the bar top. I raise my eyebrows, recognizing the White Wolf.

“That’s Geralt?” I grab Yen by her dress, as she glares at me. She sensed that my tone wasn’t exactly impressed.

“And Jaskier.” She nods towards the man playing a lute.

I didn’t even see him at first, even in his obnoxiously bright green outfit. He’s stringing the instrument, prancing around like a little girl. The men seem to find it entertaining. His voice, however, does sound good.

The bard seems to notice us, as he takes one glance at Yen, and his music stops in a heartbeat. That makes the witcher look at us too, as his face paints with surprise.

“Geralt.” Yennefer breaks the sudden silence. She manages to sound unimpressed. I try not to grin, knowing we literally searched for him. “Long time no see.”

“Yen.” His husky voice sends a wave of whispers in the tavern.

“Oh hey, it’s the witch.” Jaskier grunts, walking towards his friend. I silently follow Yennefer. Bard’s eyes go from her, to me. “Two of them.”

“Jaskier.” I grin. “Heard so much about you.”

“What brings you here?” I turn to Geralt, who directed this question to Yen. His gaze is literally glued to her.

“Just stopping by for some drinks.” She sits down as Jaskier and I awkwardly stand by our friends. “Ladies need to rest.”

“Hm.” Witcher smirks, and part of me thinks he knows we went out of our way to find them. “You got a friend.”

“Y/N.” I introduce myself, as Geralt nods.

“Also a sorceress?” He asks and I see Jaskier roll his eyes.

“Well noticed, witcher.” I tease, looking at the bard now, who looks really annoyed. When our eyes meet, however, his expression softens. I know what Yennefer did to him, so I understand his resentment. But it’s been years. “See you made up with the bard?”

“Hard to get rid of him.” Geralt says, his eyes back at Yen, who was silently watching this exchange. I see her glance at me.

She wants me to leave them two alone. She also glances at the bard. Make him leave them alone too. I give her a slight glare, however nodding. I know how much it means to her, to be with Geralt after all this time. They’ve met a few times since the dragon fight, but she always played her cold and angsty self. But she missed him, dearly.

I look at the bard, smiling.

“May I ask you to continue playing? I didn’t get to hear enough of your music, Jaskier.” He presses his lips tightly together, squinting. I know he’s trying to assess me, see what my intentions are. “Please, entertain the lady.”

My slight flirt seems to work, as Jaskier picks up his lute, picking up a tune. Mere seconds later he is prancing around again, shooting a glare at Yen and Geralt from time to time. I smile at them both, making my way to a table away from them. I keep giving Jaskier kind and flirtatious smiles, and slowly but surely, even the angry glares stop.

After a couple of songs, he sits down in front of me. I can tell he’s eager to ask something, but seems to struggle to find the right words.

“You can ask me whatever you want.” I encourage, as he seems slightly confused and worried. “I won’t hurt you. I am not trying to regain… anything. Unlike Yen, years ago.”

“You know the story.” He says, bitterly. I smirk.

“She’s my friend, Jaskier. I know all of her stories.” I lean back, keeping my eyes on the bard. “She did forget to mention you were cute.”

“She what?” It seems my words threw him off, as he stutters ever so slightly. So cute.

“Yeah, you know. When she told me about you, she didn’t exactly describe you as cute.” I continue teasing, making Jaskier flutter ever more. There is a blush to his face. “Or that you’re talented.”

“I don’t think she got to see that.” He manages to say, as I take a moment to respond, allowing him to calm down.

“She missed out.” I look at her, just to catch the pair look at each other dreamily. “She’s a good person, Jaskier. I know she hurt you, but desperate people do crazy shit like that.”

“She’s crazy.” I give him a quick glare.

“She was crazy.” I lean on the table, getting closer to him. “Imagine having a choice like that getting ripped from you. To hell, maybe she would never even want to be a mom, if she could bear children. But the pure thing that she had no choice.”

“Neither do you, but I don’t see you trying to eat a djin.” I squint, grabbing Jaskier’s arm. It makes him flinch.

“Doesn’t mean I’m not crazy.” I say, tightening my grip on his arm. Bard glares at me. I let go, leaning back again. “You’re a man. You can’t understand.”

“Yeah, Y/N, blame it on me, not her.” I glare at him again, but then I try to see it from his perspective. She did nearly kill him. Trapped him. I take a couple of deep breaths, relaxing.

“Point is. She was crazy back then, I can’t deny her. In many ways, she still is.” My voice softens, as I look at my friend. “But your friend, Geralt, truly makes her better. Makes her more complete. They both are… kids of experiments, if you will. They need each other. Your hate towards her only makes things worse between you and Geralt.”

“As if you’d know.” I look at the bard, offering him a sad smile.

“I know. I almost lost her when I was resentful and angry at Geralt.” I chuckle to myself. “When she came to me and told me what witcher did to her, I was about to go and get his head on a spike. I hated him. Until I saw just how much she loved him. And she’s my friend, my best friend.”

“So you just forgave him?” He asks, lifting his eyebrows. I shrug.

“It wasn’t easy, but I had no choice.” I reach out through the table, this time gently wrapping my fingers around his hand. “I know she hurt you personally, but for Geralt’s sake, it’s best you forgive this crazy witch.”

“Did she ask you to tell me this?” I laugh, leaning back. My hand, however, stays on his.

“I don’t think she really cares what you think about her.” I say, as Jaskier also finally smirks.

“Then why are you telling me this?” I wink at him, as a slight blush comes back to his cheeks.

“I don’t want you to think all of the witches are the same.” Then, I sigh. “Besides, there may be a day where two of them actually get together. Then us, their two companions, will also be together. I want things to be okay then. I want us to be friends.”

“You want to be friends with me?” He doesn’t sound too impressed and I pretend to be hurt, putting hand to my chest. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Well, whatever you mean, I do.” Our eyes lock, and suddenly me having my hand on his feels a little too intimate, so I pull away. “One day we all will have to be one big family.”

“Not looking forward to that.” He jokes and I also let out a laugh. His eyes light up as I see him fully relax. His shoulders drop, and he rests his elbows on the table, his face on his hands. He stares at me. “It’s not fair that all witches are so pretty.”

“It comes at a price.” I smirk, flattered by his compliment. I copy him, resting my hand in my palms too. “You aren’t as bad as she made you out to be.”

“For a crazy witch, Y/N, you don’t seem too bad yourself.” We both giggle. “Thank you. For trying to talk some sense into me.”

“We will get to see each other often, something tells me.” I say as we both steal a glance, as Yen and Geralt leave the tavern. “So I am doing myself a favour.”

“You know what, Y/N?” Jaskier sprints to his feet, winking at me. “I hope we get to be friends. Who knows, maybe it will lead to great things.”

“Who knows.” I whisper, watching him spring the instrument to life.

He picks up a tune, and I wonder how Yen ever managed to hurt such a pure soul. I stand up, going for a dance, as the night is just beginning.

#tags better be workin #jaskier x reader #yennefer #jaskier #geralt #witcher #witcher netflix #yen is a queen #i love her #also jaskier hating all witches #thats canon #prove me wrong #hope you enjoy this #witcher fic #love you #bye

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glorious-spoon · 4 years

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Five Things That Happened on the Road [3/5]

Title: Five Things That Happened on the Road Fandom: The Witcher [TV] Rating: Teen Relationships: Geralt/Jaskier/Yennefer; Geralt & Ciri Warnings: None Other Tags: Found family, Apologies, Five Things

FIC FROM BEGINNING

CHAPTER 3 ON AO3

A/N: So.... yeah, I had kinda abandoned this a couple of months ago, but--surprise! I have more!

In which Yennefer makes an appearance.

They’re two days outside of Sodden when they make camp beside a stream that’s clean and clear and, as she discovers when she actually tries to rinse away some of the road grit, icy cold. She gets the worst of it off anyway, but she’s still shivering when she makes it back to the camp. Geralt gives her a look and then catches her shoulder to push her gently down on a log near the small fire already kindled. She rubs her hands together, then holds them out gratefully toward the warmth as he humphs softly and then drapes a blanket over her shoulders that smells only slightly of horse.

“Who would have known that the mighty White Wolf of Rivia would be such a mother hen?” Jaskier remarks brightly. He’s gutting a trout with a broad knife and an air of quick competence that surprises Ciri more than perhaps it should. For all his court finery and well-bred twaddle, he’s clearly no stranger to the chores of rough travel. “Fatherhood becomes you, Geralt.”

Geralt blows an annoyed-sounding breath through his nose and goes to deal with the horse. Ciri glares at Jaskier. “My father was Duny of Erlenwald.”

“True, but I wouldn’t go proclaiming that widely.” Jaskier gives her a rueful look a moment later, though. “My apologies, Princess.”

“I wouldn’t go proclaiming that widely, either,” says another voice from behind them, and Ciri whirls around in the same moment that Jaskier does to see a woman emerging from beneath the trees like the deep shadows there have taken on a life of their own. She’s dark-haired and pale-eyed and striking, swathed in black silk and fine shoes more appropriate for a royal banquet than a hike through the woods.

“Oh, fuck me,” Jaskier says before Ciri can do more than stumble to her feet, the horse blanket slipping down around her shoulders. He sounds mildly appalled but not terrified, so she doesn’t go for the knife that Geralt gave her, still strapped snugly at her hip. And anyway, Geralt himself is there a moment later, shouldering into the standoff with the air of a belligerent ox before coming to a sudden stop.

“Yennefer,” he says.

“Geralt,” the woman acknowledges archly. “Jaskier.”

Her eyes fall on Ciri next. They’re not blue like she thought at first; they’re violet, a lovely inhuman shade that a person could drown in if they stared too long. Ciri wrenches her gaze aside with an effort, and the woman’s mouth curls into a smile. She looks at Geralt. “Somehow you neglected to mention that your child surprise was the Lion Cub of Cintra.”

“It wasn’t relevant,” Geralt says harshly. “Are you done?”

Jaskier looks between them with narrowed eyes, then says, slowly, “Were you looking for something, Yennefer? Or do you just enjoy squatting outside of campsites to harass unwary travelers?”

Yennefer’s smile widens. “Why not both?” She steps past them toward the fire with the air of a queen and not a single backward glance. “I thought you’d be coming this way. It seems as though we’ve got a lot to discuss.”

Jaskier swears under his breath, then says, to Geralt, “This is entirely your doing.”

“I know.”

“Good,” Jaskier says. “I’m going to go get firewood. Fiona,” he adds, with delicate emphasis to her assumed name, “can come with me. Give the two of you a few minutes to sort yourselves out. You’re welcome.”

“Fine,” Geralt bites out. “But you’ll—”

“Yes, yes, I know, stay within earshot, if any harm comes to a single golden hair on her head you’ll skin me alive, et cetera.” He glances at the woman, who waits beside the campfire with no pretense whatsoever that she isn’t listening. “Anything you’d like to add?”

“You’re an ass, and I hope you get eaten by a bear,” she says, without much ire.

“I’ve missed these little chats of ours.”

She makes a huffing noise that’s almost a laugh. “Get out of here before I blast you to ashes, Jaskier.”

“Happy to. Come along, Fiona.”

Despite his apparent annoyance back at the camp, Jaskier seems entirely cheerful as they tromp off into the woods, leaving Geralt and Yennefer behind. He’s whistling a jaunty tune under his breath as he loads deadwood into his arms; one good thing about this time of year, at least, is that the dry wood isn’t yet buried by snow. Ciri trails behind more slowly. She’s glad to be away from the messy soup of tension back at the campfire, but she’s been walking all day and she’s tired and cold and more than a bit out of sorts. And the song the bard is whistling is quickly becoming annoyingly repetitive, which she tells him the third time he repeats a single snatch of melody.

“My genius is forever unappreciated,” he sighs, snapping a branch with the heel of his boot and loading it into his arms. They’re slightly uphill of the camp now, but the bare trees and sparse underbrush make it easy to see. It’s nothing like the vivid, fierce sense of life that clung to Brokilon even in the depths of winter; everything is brown and bare. Leaves crackle beneath her feet, sending up a sharp scent as she peers down at the camp. They’re too far away for her to hear what they’re saying, but she can see Geralt’s hunched shoulders, the woman’s tense posture. They look like they’re a moment away from coming to blows.

“Do you think they’re going to kill each other?”

“Hm?” Jaskier says, and then, without much concern, “Oh, probably not. Yennefer wants a strip out of his hide, but she’s really very fond of him. Erm. Deep down, that is.”

“Oh,” Ciri says, dubiously. None of the tense confrontation back at the camp earlier suggested fondness to her. “She’s a sorceress, isn’t she?”

She couldn’t be anything else. Not with those eyes, not with the way she stepped out of the forest like she was materializing into thin air. Like the terrifying power that courses through Ciri is just a tool that she can bend to her will.

“One of the finest in the land,” Jaskier agrees brightly. “Or at least the craziest. They’re a fine pair, her and Geralt.”

He’s looking down the hill at the camp with an odd expression on his face. Ciri finds herself gripped by a sudden loneliness, a yearning for her home, her family, for people she could understand. For her grandmother. For Eist, for Mousesack and even Lazlo. For a world she knew.

Before she can say anything, or even think of anything to say, Jaskier shakes the expression off like water and tosses a smile her way. “At any rate, I think the bloodshed is nearly done. It should be safe to go back. Unless you need a moment?”

Ciri shakes her head, shifting her grip on the bundle of twigs in her arms. She swallows down her grief; it helps that there’s a flicker of curiosity there now too. She’s never met a sorceress before. Maybe, just maybe, this woman can teach her how to tame the power in her veins before it spreads out to burn the world to ashes.

When they make it back to the camp, there’s no sign of bloodshed or even hostility. Geralt and the sorceress are sitting together, close but not touching, speaking in low voices.

“Kiss and make up, then?” Jaskier asks, dumping his armload of wood beside the fire. “Lovely. Perhaps now we can eat without the dramatic tension spoiling everyone’s appetites.”

“If you’re the one cooking, I don’t need dramatic tension to spoil my appetite,” Yennefer says.

Jaskier smiles at her. There’s an edge to it, but it seems genuine enough. “Who said I was cooking for you?”

“I’ll cook,” Geralt says shortly, standing. “Presuming a bear hasn’t gotten to that fish while we were occupied.”

The fish that he and Jaskier caught earlier is intact, still wrapped in broad dry leaves. Geralt sets it on the coals, and Ciri helps him to fashion cakes out of the trail rations and set them on the stone to bake. When she sits down, she sees that the sorceress is watching her with a thoughtful look in her inhuman eyes.

Power prickles through Ciri’s palms as if called unwilling to the surface. She clenches her hands shut and looks away.

#the witcher #geralt x jaskier x yennefer #my fic

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diamondcamefromhell · 4 years

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Jaskier x Fem!Reader pt.4

PART ONE

PART TWO

PART THREE

This is second to last part, meaning part 5 will be the last (will post it later today!) as I dont want to drag it out any longer than it needs to be, and I am quite happy with how it’s winding down now. I also just wanted to thank you all for being so lovely and supporting my writing, it means so much to me, and I cant wait to post more!

Requests are open [Not just for Jaskier, I can do any of the Witcher characters, as well as some of other fandoms, feel free to ask me if you want something else; nothing is off limits, apart from smut!]

Warnings: Swearing, arguing.

Word Count: 2,191

The night came, and as Jaskier cuddled his lute, I stared out into the night sky. We were so close to the dragon, tomorrow we will face the beast.

Borch, Vea and Tea cross my mind, as I feel a sting of guilt wrap around me. I didn’t even try to chat with them, and the old man tried to be kind to me. He told me I already have bard’s heart. I guess he was right. I wish I could thank him. I sit next to sleeping Jaskier, running my hand through his hair – he grunts in his sleep. I cant help but smile, settling for a night near him.

I am woken up when Jaskier shakes me. My eyes shoot open and for a second I am blinded by the daylight. He’s stuttering something but I can’t quite understand what, so I just jump on my feet, to see an empty camp. Everyone left. Without us.

Great.

We rush down the mountain, going around seemingly frozen in place dwarves, but by the time we reach the cave, it seems pretty clear the fight is already over. And I see Borch, a long with his warrior companions. What happened here?

“You’re alive.” Jaskier voices my thoughts, gasping at the old man and the girls. He offers us both a kind smile, but not an explanation.

“I am so glad you are okay.” I say, feeling like weight has just been lifted off my chest.

“I am glad you stopped worrying.” Borch winks at me, making me blush. Jaskier doesn’t seem to notice as he’s already pulled out his little note pad, and is grilling Vea and Tea about all the details.

“Thank you for that.” I say, genuinely meaning it.

Borch nods, walking towards Geralt and Yennefer, who are standing near a cliff edge, conversing, from what I can tell. I leave bard alone too, peaking in a cave, to see a beautiful green dragon next to a gold egg. My heart beats faster, as I stare at the beast.

It’s absolutely beautiful.

I am, however, taken back, when I hear Yennefer angry yell, I look back just in time to see her rush off. I never seen Geralt look angrier, as Jaskier tries to tell him something. I am too far away from them to hear, but when Witcher yells, I hear every single word.

“Dammit Jaskier! Why is it that whenever I find myself in a pile of shit it’s always you! Shoveling it.” I begin approaching the Witcher, not sure what my plan is. “The Child Surprise, The Djin, all of it. If life could give me one blessing it would be to take you off my hands.”

I am still too far away to hear what Jaskier says, but I can see his pain from here, as he walks away, shaking ever so slightly. I rush to Witcher now.

“Have you lost your shit, Geralt?” I hiss at him, but he ignores me. “That was uncalled for, you idiot!”

“Oh fuck off.” He glares at me now as I cross my arms.

“No, fuck you, Geralt. Jaskier has been your friend through all the shit you gotten yourself into.” I begin to shake now. “And that’s how you repay him? Hurting his feelings, blaming it all on him. Take a look in the mirror if you are looking for a scapegoat.”

“Listen, Y/N, I am not in a mood for any of your stupid lectures.” He takes a step towards me, and for the first time I am genuinely scared of him. “I don’t need another person shitting on my life. Go to your bard and leave me alone.”

“Right.” I take a step back, trying to hide my hurt. “Well, I wish you well, Witcher.”

My voice breaks at the end, as I twist on my heel, rushing off. I see Borch trying to approach me, but I put my hand up, letting him now that now I am not in a mood for any of it. I look for Jaskier, to see him nearing a cliff edge.

I rush to him.

“Jaskier.” My voice is still shaky, but I try to hide it. For him. “Jaskier, look at me.”

“Y/N.” He glances at me, and I see him rip out a piece of paper from his journal, however before he can throw it, I grab his hands.

“Don’t.” I say softly, managing to control my voice. Jaskier looks at our hands. “Write it. Sing it.”

I see a hint of surprise in his eyes. Maybe he didn’t think I knew what he was trying to do, but I could tell he was hurt. He didn’t want to write this song, as it would forever bring sour memories of Geralt snapping at him.

But I knew this ballad would be one of the best. I knew he needs to cling to it, cling to the slain dragon. I know that in a long run, it will bring him more joy than pain.

He sighs, putting the paper in his journal, safely closing it. His gaze is still on the horizon. I don’t know how to comfort him. I shoot a glance to see that Witcher has already began his leave too – I cant see him.

“Let’s go back. You have a story to tell.” I say, forcing a cheerful voice, but Jaskier isn’t buying it.

“I heard what he said to you.” He says as we begin to walk.

“Yeah, well. It doesn’t matter.” I say, bravely. I steal a glance at the bard, he looks heartbroken. “I heard what he said to you. Part of me wanted to push him off the damn cliff, part of me knows that no matter what he says, you will always care about him. A lot.”

“Someone has to.” Jaskier’s voice is hushed, quiet. I almost don’t catch his words.

“I don’t think he meant what he said about you, Jaskier.” I sigh. “He’s simply scared, looking for someone to blame for his own mess ups.”

“Maybe he’s right.” His tone breaks my heart, and I cant bear to look at him. “Maybe I am just bad luck.”

“The great bard Jaskier could never be bad luck.” I argue, still not being able to look at him. “And bad things tend to happen to good people. It’s just the way life works. It’s a big pile of not fair shit.”

“You really think so?” I now glance at him, smiling. Our eyes meet and he in return, offers a small grin.

“How many times have you seen bad shit happen to bad people?” I ask, but before he can answer, I continue. “Point being, you and Geralt are both good. So of course bad shit happens. And sometimes, it’s just destiny. And we all know that you can’t run from destiny, even if Geralt tries to.”

“But he really wants me out of his life.” I scoff to that.

“We all want you out of our lives from time to time, you’re a bard Jaskier.” He giggles and I feel like I could cry. “Your job is to be annoying. It was just a bad moment of tension, and he voiced that passing thought. He didn’t mean it, I am sure of it. I bet he already misses your singing.”

“Toss a coin to your Witcher,” he begins as I frown, gently nudging him.

“I still hate this song, Jaskier.” He gives me a genuine smile, taking my arm in his.

“Just so you know, Y/N, Geralt didn’t mean what he said to you either.” Jaskier sighs as I hang my head low, barely being able to hold back my emotions. “He loves you as much as Witcher is capable of loving someone. As a little sister, of course.”

“He’ll come around.” I cant hide my voice shaking anymore, and in response, bard squeezes my arm. “We will have to be patient and wait.”

“I guess I will write that song. And sing it.” He offers me a smirk, and I blink my tears away. “And when Geralt hears it, he will rush back to us.”

“Probably to punch you.” I tease, and Jaskier laughs.

“Yes, probably that.” He agrees.

Although our steps feel lighter, the sadness still lingers. We can only make each other feel so much better. I may believe his words, and he may believe mine, but Witchers anrgy voice still echoes in my head. And I bet he is not able to get it out either.

At least we have each other, to cling to, as a beam of hope. Something physical to hold when pain is too much.

I hate to admit it, but I did begin to care about Geralt a lot too. He tried to be and look mean but he always truly cared about us. We were nearing Roach levels of care, and that’s a big accomplishment. I did wonder what happened to make him snap like that.

I remember Yennefer rushing away from him. She also looked hurt. Angry. Mighty Witcher is having a bad day.

“I hope Geralt’s okay.” I voice my concerns, and Jaskier hms in agreement. “There seemed to be a quarrel between him and Yennefer too.”

“There was.” Bard sighs, as we continue up the hill. “He seems to went on a streak, seeing how many people he can hurt in ten minutes.”

“I’m sorry he hurt you.” Jaskier giggles, but it doesn’t feel genuine. I can still hear sadness ring in it.

“We bards thrive on pain. It’s our creative muse.” He winks at me. “Right after you, of course.”

“Finding beauty even in the ugliest things.” Jaskier chuckles.

“Nothing is ugly, if you look at it right.” I agree with that, to an extent. No matter how I looked at Geralt’s words, they were still ugly.

It took us three days to reach Sky. Three days of quietness. I was worried about Jaskier, he hasn’t picked up his lute even since the dragon. I tried to bring any attention to it, clinging to his arm, in case he falls through an invisible trap.

I am not surprised to not see Roach, however still sad. I miss the horse as much as I miss Geralt. I go hug Sky, my black stallion who happily neighs when he sees me.

“I missed you, buddy.” I hiss his cheek. “Did Roach keep you good company?”

“Imagine if one day, he actually responded.” Jaskier jokes, and I giggle. “Y/N?”

“Yes?” I say, pulling away from the horse, but still petting him with one hand.

“What do you want to do now?” My heart sank. Jaskier and I sort of just always followed Geralt. Wherever he went, we tagged along as two annoying companions. And I don’t know the Continent at all, I had no idea where we even were.

“I…” I swallow a lump that’s stuck in my throat. “I don’t know.”

“I have an idea.” He comes closer to me, taking my free hand and squeezing it. I see fire in his eyes, like he’s finally beginning to awaken again. “We could look for home. Try to figure out what it is for us. If it’s a building or…”

“Or what?” I ask when he goes quiet for a few seconds. He picks up his lute, springing it back to life.

“I am looking for a home // where I’ll find it, I don’t know // in the forest, far away, // or in your arms may be my place.// Will I build it with my hands, // will I find it by myself // am I looking for a building, // will it be that simple?//”

I stare at him, prancing around again. The Jaskier I know, the one who sings about everything and anything. I lean on Sky, adoring the man I fell in love with.

“I am ready for adventure, // take my hand, you’re coming too, // north and south we must explore, // drinking, dancing all night long. // Finding castles and the taverns, // different towns and different patterns, // all is simple, all is great, // maybe home is not a place. // We will find it, I promise you, // just grab your horse, we’re riding soon // into the sunset and the sunrise, // we’ll look for home, until we find it.”

Jaskier lands the last note, and I applaud his singing. He beams, walking towards me, landing a sweet sweet kiss on my lips. I am surprised by the sudden approach, but I don’t mind it.

He climbs on Sky, offering me a hand. I untie the horse first, and then jump behind him. I allow Jaskier to hold the reigns this time, not wanting to bring him down from his high, as he ushers the horse. Sky neighs in response, happy to finally be able to move freely.

We ride into the forest, as Jaskier keeps humming the song he just came up with. With my hands around his waist, I can rest easy.

But the Witchers words still find a way to creep in.

PART FIVE [FINALE]