#jaskier imagine
Green With Envy (Jaskier x reader)
Summary: Jaskier’s beautiful new friend has you hurt. Unofficial sequel to I’ll Come Back For That Pint
Warnings: alcohol
Pairings: Jaskier x reader
Square Filled: “Please don’t leave me.”
A/N:@thewitcherbingo
THE WITCHER BINGO MASTERLIST |THE WITCHER MASTERLIST|GENERAL MASTERLIST
“We leave Oxenfurt at nightfall. Plenty of time to take a bath before then.” Jaskier’s voice drifted up to you as you descended the creaky wooden stairs, arms piled high with dirty linen. The sheets stank to high heaven, and you wrinkled your nose. Soldiers never seemed to bathe.
“Bard.” You nodded to him… and his companions. A woman glanced at you, purple eyes narrowed as she tugged her hood back over her head. You frowned, an irrational pang shooting through your chest as you met the gaze of her perfect face.
“Jaskier, who’s this?” The woman turned back to your bard, seeking answers from him rather than asking you. You pulled a face, dumping the linen in the basket on the table. That was all the bedding, every room emptied of its soiled sheets, or at least you hoped you had remembered all of them.
Your bard introduced you as the barmaid, reducing your importance to your occupation. Lips pursed, you grabbed the other set of keys from behind the bar. Hmm. Maybe you needed to rethink the inn’s security measures.
“I’m stripping the beds. Do your sheets need washing?”
His eyes flickered between you and the woman, who raised one perfect eyebrow at him.
Ah. You understood.
You sighed. “I’m taking that as a no. Can I offer either of you two anything? A drink? Lodgings?”
You made eye contact with the soldier behind her, nodding a welcome. He frowned, a deep mistrust laid into every hesitant motion as he nodded back.
“We… A place to have a wash would be nice.” The woman stumbled over her words, a sharp contrast to her previous confidence. You gave her a once over, your gaze running over her familiar features. She was probably some Countess or something, someone famous enough in these areas to be recognisable.
“There’s a bathhouse down the street, or I can get the tub ready.”
She glanced back at the soldier, who shrugged. “The tub would be lovely, thank you.”
“I’ll put them on your tab?” This was directed to the bard, who spluttered a protest, before you cut him off with a roll of your eyes. “It’s not like you’re paying it.”
You grabbed a key from under the bar, scanning the books for any pre-agreed occupants for the night. You wouldn’t have time to change the sheets before these two left, and on the days they were dirty for new occupants, Lefric would sigh and cut your tips. The woman took it from your outstretched hand, hovering awkwardly while you ducked back under for the linen closet key and grabbed an empty basket.
“Right, follow me. I’ll get you some towels and start heating the water. Are you happy to share the tub?”
She glanced at her soldier, both shrugging somewhat indecisively.
You pulled two sets of towels out of the linen cupboard and sets of fresh sheets for the bed, chucking them in your empty basket haphazardly. “It’ll be quicker if you do. I’ll just boil one lot of water.”
“Yeah, thanks,” the woman struggled to hold all the towels you gave her, “that’s brilliant.”
:.
“Y/N?” The bard wheedled, eyes pleading as you replaced the ale barrel behind the bar, scowl etched into your features. The sheets fluttered outside on the line, hung between the inn and its opposing building. You glanced out again, frowning at the water dripping off of them. With the grey, overcast skies, they were taking a while to dry.
“Y/N?”
You skimmed off the first inch of beer, pouring it out of the window with a scoff. The rag was dirty enough to put more smears on the glasses as you cleaned, but it did a good enough job that the drunkards wouldn’t notice.
“Y/N.” The bard grabbed your shoulders, stopping you from turning away from him as you avoided eye contact. “Why are you ignoring me?”
“I’m working. Can you just let me finish my job?”
He dropped his hands to his side, nodding with a sigh.
Picking back up the cloth, you scrubbed at a particular stuck spot and rinsed the whole thing in the bucket before flipping it over to dry. Repeating it for every single glass got monotonous and you almostwished you could just chat to the bard. But you were pissed off. You had been strung along and you weren’t going to stand for the slight to your dignity, even if you were a lowly barmaid.
He trailed behind you at all times, looking like a kicked puppy every time you turned back. Honestly, if you scowled anymore, you were pretty sure that your face would stay that way. You grabbed the sheets off the line, folding them not-so-neatly, and chucking them back in the basket to replenish the linen cupboard.
“Are you done yet?” He whined as you returned to the bar, nothing else to pretend to keep your hands busy with.
“Yes. What do you want?”
“Hey, hey, hey!” He threw his hands in surrender, frown working its way onto his face. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”
“Don’t call me sweetheart.” You spat the pet name, bitter on your tongue as it reminded you just how much of a true flirt he was. You had been so stupid to just believe him.
His smile dropped. “Y/N?”
He sounded so lost, thoroughly confused as you clenched your jaw.
“You’re not going to leave me, are you? Please don’t leave me.”
You scoffed. His audacity was astounding; he probably just wanted to be the one to end things. And playing on your sympathy was just cruel at this point.
“Go on, off with your other women.”
The bard frowned, opening his mouth as he failed to come up with any sort of protest. And then he gagged, face twisting with disgust. “Gods, eurgh, no, you don’t mean that she-devil, do you?”
It was your turn to frown.
He chuckled, that familiar smirk spreading across his lips. Gods, you wanted to slap it off of him. “Are you jealous? Why, you’re practically green!”
“Don’t.”
He grabbed your hands. “Y/N, trust me when I say that I would not want to come within ten feet of Yennefer if I had a choice. She’s an… old enemy. Very old worst enemy. And she could never compare to my favourite muse.”
You bit back a soft smile. “Jaskier, you’re sickeningly cliché.”
“But you clearly love it.”
At that you finally laughed, and a mirroring smile burst across his face.
“You’ll have me. You’ll always have me.”
And even still, the unspoken words of hurt lay between you two as you brushed back his hair, knowing far too well who he was thinking of.
“Jaskier, I will never be like him. I will never leave you. I promise.”
-
I’m Coming Back For That Pint (Jaskier x reader)
Synopsis: The bard performs every night at the pub you work at, and you’re a little worried for him. SOME SEASON 2 SPOILERS
Content warning: alcohol, mentions of sexual harrassment and cheating
THE WITCHER MASTERLIST|GENERAL MASTERLIST
You danced across the room, dodging swinging arms and splashes of ale as you refilled glasses through cheers of More. Drunkards congregated around tables, filling the air with hubbub and sloppy talk.
What for do you yearn?
The familiar strumming brought a smile to your face as you swiped empty tankards off the tabletops, stacking them high on your tray. You dumped them on the bar, swapping for another tray piled anew.
It’s the point of no return
You darted around the lusty eyes and groping hands as men drowned in their drunkenness, worsening your own job as you plied them with more drink. Avoiding eye contact, they grew bolder, chuckling at snide and bawdy jokes. You had heard every one of them before, each one chased away with a laugh and movement to refill someone else’s tankard.
After everything we did, we saw
Pollekin, one of your regular’s wife, grabbed the hat off the bard’s head as he leant back against her. Her husband tightened his grip on the tankard, knuckles turning white as he glowered. God, what a filthy look.
You turned your back on me
You offered him another drink, dunking it in the barrel and returning the sopping cup to him. When the men had their bellies filled with ale, their inflated ego was dampened. The slop of the cheap liquid on the table turned his head, dizzy eyes focused back on the tankard.
What for do you yearn?
The bard stepped onto the table, front leg bent as he leant into the song. He bared his teeth, scrunching his face as he drew out the words.
Watch that butcher burn
He leapt over the table, cheers echoing throughout in the bar as the audience was swept up in the emotion of the music. He sure as hell could perform; this was about the 50th time you had heard this, and you still weren’t sick of it.
At the end of my days when I’m through, no word that I’ve written will ring quite as true
The bard turned to face his audience, arms outstretched as he belted.
As “Burn”
A banging of tankards on the table next to you broke you out of whatever spell he had put you under, the rhythmic thumping a reminder of your duties. You tugged the filthy rag from your belt, mopping up the puddles on the table as they continued to splatter the ale.
Burn, butcher, burn
The audience joined in, voices raucous and not particularly in tune, but a good sign of a night full of tips to come. You forced back the flicker of disgust as you brushed past a particularly grabby group, pulling your skirt out of their grasping hands.
Burn, butcher, burn
You hummed softly, catching Lefric’s knowing grin from behind the bar. You shook your head, a disobedient grin twitching at the corner of your lips.
Burn, burn, burn, burn, burn, burn, burn, burn
Your motions slowed as you were lulled by the slowing tempo, gaze firmly affixed on the bard drifting from present.
Watch me burn all the memories of you
The bard’s voice trailed off to a whisper. As his voice broke, so did your heart, a dull pain shooting through your chest. He settled on a stool near the edge of the stage, eyes gazing off into the middle distance as the pubgoers erupted into applause.
He stood up, forcing a weak smile as he broke free from whatever powerful emotion had him entrapped. “Thank you!”
You rushed over to the bar, grabbing a few empty tankards carelessly from the tables. Lefric elbowed you with a smirk, and you responded with a mutinous glare, jaw set, and eyes narrowed. A cough at the bar had you schooling your features, heat creeping up the back of your neck.
“What can I get you?” You couldn’t help yourself from leaning forward, bewitched by the bard’s brooding gaze.
“Just a pint of whatever ale you have.” The bard was despondent tonight, avoiding conversation as his fans came flocking.
Lefric waved them off with calls of ‘Closing time in 10 minutes’, flipping the OPEN sign around on the bar. The men grumbled, pulling their wives away as the bard remained unresponsive to their flirtatious charms. Pollekin tried the hardest, bottom lip jutting out when he refused to even look at her. She threw the hat onto the chair as she dragged her poor husband out, muttering curses towards the man who slighted her.
You thumped the tankard on the table, ale slopping over the sides. He glanced up, murmuring a word of thanks. Your interactions so far had always been a little more exuberant, filled with flirting that would make a whore blush and your laughter as you brushed him aside.
“Jaskier?”
The bard jolted at the sound of his name, turning to face you with a tired rendition of his most seductive look. “How can I help you, sweetheart?”
You wrinkled your nose. That wasn’t quite what you were after. “Are you alright?”
“Yes, all my songs have no actual basis in reality, yada, yada, you’ve heard the spiel before.” The bard grimaced, tone dripping with grumpiness. He glanced at you, irritation shrinking as he met your eyes.
“More ale?” You refilled his cup without waiting for an answer, catching the glares sent your way by jilted wives and their jealous husbands.
Lefric shooed them out, threatening them with a ban as they grumbled.
You sighed. “I meant right now though.”
“Fine, yeah, absolutely. I just-” He hesitated, before shaking his head.
You waited. Raised an eyebrow as he remained silent. “Alright, never mind. But if you fancy a confidante, I promise that as a barmaid I’ve heard far worse things than anything that might come out of your mouth.”
You swiped the tankard out of his hand, ignoring his protests. “Now, come on, you can’t get too drunk on me now, Sandpiper. You can come back to finish this off later, and I’ll be here to refill your cup and hear your stories.”
He stammered a response, coming up with some sort of thanks as he headed towards the door. He rounded up the elves in the darkened parts of the room as he did, glancing once, twice, thrice out the door for soldiers.
Lefric turned a blind eye to all the bard was up to, happy enough with the income and unhappy enough with the treatment of the elves to just let it pass. You wanted to help far more than you were, but all you could do was distract any soldiers or nosy neighbours who started to get suspicious.
Jaskier stopped at the door, his smile back in full force. “I’m coming back for that pint.”
And you both knew that promised a lot more than just a drink.
“I’ll be waiting.”
-
Gwent 2- Witcher Lambert
Request: “Hello my dear! I just read the Gwent fic with Lambert and I was curious if you would write a second part? I loved it and the ending made me curious about what might happen the next morning with Lambert talking to Jaskier, the other witchers reactions to lambert losing his clothes in the game etc. I would love to read it! Thank your for sharing your wonderful writing!”
AN//Thank you!!! I really hope you like this! It took me a bit to actually think of a plot, but I enjoyed writing it. Thank you very much for spending time reading and requesting! And double thank you for the kind words : ) Much love!
Lambert x F!reader (Game/books in mind, but no spoilers and can be replaced by Netflix Lamb ig)
Language warning?
Part 1 - can be read without but first part recommended
Cards. Cards are everywhere. It was as if a Gwent elemental had formed, and Lambert had fought tooth, nail, and… shirt to keep it at bay. Eskel hadn’t even meant to stop, but the whirlwind that is Lambert distracted him from his morning goat duties. When the bulkier witcher finally made it to the table, there was a lot to take in.
His youngest brother had his trousers on, unlaced, with his shirt laying on the edge of the table. From what inventory Eskel could gather, Lambert’s entire collection laid out in unorganized piles around them. Some on the table, some on the bench. Brows rose when he noticed the smaller, haphazardly strewn about pile on the floor. Once, when Lambert caught Geralt doing the same thing, and the younger practically had a mental breakdown, going on about ‘card abuse’ and ‘disrespecting the game’. Their human friend’s cards laid in a nice pile, faced down.
“So, it went well last night?” He wasn’t reallyteasing. The large witcher was honest in not understanding the scene in front of him. Sharp eyes flew to his, a sour expression accompanying them. Before Lambert could form a response, a small epiphany flew over his features. Strong hands flew over card piles, quickly rearranging things. Finally, after a few minutes of silence cut by card movement, Lambert finally looked to his brother.
“Why don’t you go entertain the one thing that actually wants you here?” Eskel’s eyes rolled before looking back down at the piles, still trying to find the logic in them. He knelt down by the pile on the floor, fingers gently tapping them around to see them all.
“You do know women don’t find an innate need to beat them at cards charming? Maybe-.”
“When you actually find someone, then I’ll listen. All courting knowledge you have is from those dumb books you haul back every year.”
“Wow, look at this.” The bard’s voice cut the two witchers short. His slimmer frame found itself across the table from the young witcher, arms resting around Y/n’s deck that lay there. Geralt quietly slides in next to him, steady hand reaching for said deck.
“Finally, someone I can talk to!” All eyes flew to his form in shock. Eskel’s hands also went up slightly in mock offense. Jaskier looked bashful for once, but excitement bubbled in his eyes. If it was what he was hoping for, winter is about to get so much more fun. Geralt was looking at Eskel, smirk on his face before looking back to Lambert. Said man was looking to him, eyes showing betrayal. “Geralt. You’re better than that.” The White Wolf’s body seized and froze.
“What?”
Lambert’s finger jabbed in the direction of Geralt’s held out hand. His fingers where barely grazing Y/n’s deck but to Lambert it was like spitting on it.
“You don’t look at other people’s deck, dumbass. It’s rude.” There was a single moment of silence before laughter erupted around him. Lambert grumbled under his breath before looking to his cards. Once the poet across from him settled down, Lambert looked to him once more. “Buttercup and I have some private business.” Eskel scoffed, looking up from his still crouched position near the floor cards.
“We’d be more inclined to leave if you just asked.” Lambert remained seated, but he twisted his upper body to face his older brother.
“I’d be more inclined to shove my foot up your-.” Again, the poet’s voice cut their conversation short.
“Lambert, I would love to hear what you have to say.” Blue eyes flew to Eskel, and his elbow gently jabbed the wolf that lingered close to his side. Geralt grumbled but he stood. He meandered his way towards the kitchens mentioning grabbing breakfast for himself. Eskel was still hesitant, ready to tease the younger witcher more, but the bard’s eyes were pleading. The large witcher sighed, conceding only for Y/n’s sake. He knew how much the human yearned, and he only wanted her to be happy. Even if it was with a fool like his little brother.
Once Lambert knew all other parties were out of ear shot, he nodded to the man across from him. The bard leaned back, motioning his hands in no certain direction, showing Lambert had the floor. A moment ago, he had all the courage and pride as his normal self, but now all he felt was vulnerability.
“Well, uh, obviously…” he trailed. He waved a hand in the air as though it would conjure the sentence for him. “You understand how courting works.” Jaskier had once again leaned over the table, trying to show his full attention was to this matter. Though, he wasn’t too helpful, as he simply agreed with the sentence. “So, that means you would know how one would go about beginning the process.”
“Another astute observation.” The bard took pity to the desperation behind those sharp, yellow eyes. He gave a small smile before leaning in even further, dropping his voice to just above a gentle whisper. “You already have her attention. More than that, it seems. Y/n isn’t a noble or some all-powerful sorceress.”
Lambert looked like he was at the edge of his seat, eyes beckoning him to continue.
“You have the freedom to court her however you see fit, really. You don’t need to worry about meeting families or failing to impress her. Simply prove your value in your relationship.” Lambert’s fingers rub against his hairline, trying not to get frustrated.
“But we aren’t in a relationship.” The bard nodded, showing that he was willing to sit and explain anything for the better of his friend.
“I understand, but you want to be. Show her what you would bring to the table. She knows the path is hard and dangerous. You would only have each other to rely on out there, and there needs to be trust and understanding in the other’s ability.” They sit in silence for a moment.
“That doesn’t sound romantic.” Even Lambert did a double-take to what had left his own mouth. At this point, there was no need to lie about what the witcher needed to know or was seeking. Jaskier gave a large grin.
“Just the act of giving, the thought that you cared enough to do something for her, should be enough. Like if you were cold, and Y/n went out of her way or sacrificed something so you could be warm. She is showing her value as well as showing she cares for your wellbeing.” Jaskier didn’t understand why or where the bashful look on Lambert’s face came from, but he could tell the witcher now understood. He gave one last smile and nod before standing. “Come back to me when you need help asking her to travel the path with you.” Before Lambert could stutter out a response, the bard all but skipped to the kitchens.
There Lambert sat, no other witcher or companion bugging him or his thoughts. Mentally, he was trying to compile a list of things to prove value. Then there was the subsection of ‘possibly romantic’ things of value. Another list was a recollection of needs she has voiced in the past. The witcher also wasn’t done compiling this new deck….
Y/n had gently walked in, trying to avoid any natural light that passed through the windows. Fatigue still lingered in her form, but Lambert was too focused on her to actually notice her presence.
“Still in only your pants?” Her voice was gentle, but the witcher flinched regardless. As his eyes met hers, everything sly or charming slipped his mind. All topics talked about with Jaskier had also departed, leaving his mouth flapping like a fish. His eyes went to look anywhere else before landing on the cards everywhere.
“I have a new deck!” He forced it out like a child showing his mother a cool worm they found. A smile spread as she sat where the bard previously was.
“Perfect. I need some practice in on my competition deck. The Passiflora is having one a few weeks into spring.” All of the time Lambert spent trying to calculate every move she made in response to his deck flew out the window. It seems like his strategy to try and predict her movements was a bust. His witcher senses started tingling when he felt air shifting around the corner at the edge of the hall. Jaskier stood, half hidden, brows raised. His eyes were wide, and arms gesturing frantically to Y/n. Lambert couldn’t make out too much of what the poet was mouthing, but he picked up ‘practice’ and ‘go for it’. Practice… Y/n needs to practice… Y/n needsto practice. She has a need, and she’s practically enlisted his help. Lambert could do that. He won’t win, but he would be a great dummy opponent. Lambert took another moment to gather himself before responded mechanically and hesitantly.
“If you need practice… I would..love..to…help you improve your game.” His eyes quickly darted to the bard for the moment, trying to ignore both their rapidly beating hearts. This time, the bard is mouthing ‘compliment’ with a thumbs up, and a wave of the other hand to continue. “Not that you needpractice, cause you’re, uh, good at the game.” His voice trailed off at the end, his mental scolding and cringing starting before the sentence finished leaving his mouth. Lambert’s head was ducked slightly, and his eyes darted to hers through thick lashes. Y/n’s skin flushed, hands fiddling with her own deck sitting on the table. A smell of warmth and joy wafted from her in waves, and Lambert tried desperately to keep his smile inwards.
“Perfect. I was going to help Vesemir in the greenhouse, but would you be free to play this afternoon?”
“Of course.” He, in fact, wasn’t. The young witcher promised to help with repairs, as he took yesterday afternoon off as well. Lambert was mentally preparing himself to ask his brothers to cover for him, though he knows there will be some form of hell to pay. In the grand scheme of things though, he would spend more time with his favorite human, and that’s all that matters.
I’m getting my wisdom teeth removed tomorrow morning
I’ll have the rest of the week off of work, so ill have time to write!!! Send in some fluffy requests so I can fill my pain ridden time with stuff to take my mind off of it. I’m currently getting to my last couple of requests that are in my asks rn, and they should be up tomorrow :)
Please send in stuff for me to write
AN/// Sorry for the wait, work and life has been eating away at me. This week should be a large fic dump though, so expect content!!! Thank you for that fact, as I wasn’t aware. This actually make my heart flutter reading that, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart : ) I hope you like it. I tried to make it more playful at the end
For the wonderful @theichabbieclub
Making baby sounds as an adult woman was weird. It had to be believable, to an extent, and she had to make it seem like it was coming from the bundle in her arms. Truthfully, there was a child size log with a bomb resting in her elbow, swaddled like a child, though their target wouldn’t know the difference. Y/n’s eyes darted from tree to tree while trying to look inconspicuous, shushing the log while bouncing it somewhat. She could hear the snapping of twigs and rustling bushes, though her head stayed forward. There would be no back up until the thing was in the open, though she had yet to receive the signal that Jaskier and Geralt had made it. Y/n scolded herself, reminding herself that she was a warrior, and she traveled with the White Wolf. She could handle anything by herself, and since there was no real child to take care of, she would be fine. There was a plop behind her, alerting her to the thing stalking close. It was go time.
Y/n lit a match against her leather belt, lighting the fuse. Keeping the bundle wrapped, she quickly kneeled, placing it on the ground. She swiftly started to walk away, only looking back one the thing stopped walking after a few paces, its claws picking up the blanket. Y/n sprinted a few more steps away as the bomb went off, flinging her cape up to shield herself from any stray silver shrapnel. The twisted entity in front of her shrieked, from both pain and the realization that the child was fake. When there was no witcher jumping into the small valley, she knew she was on her own. Y/n quickly charged the beast, silver saber drawn. The creature’s long nails swung, but wasn’t fast enough for Y/n to miss a parry. The warrior was reduced to only defensive measures as the beast was relentless. Soon enough, when Y/n had landed enough blows, the creature made a death throw, going all in. It charged the warrior, grabbing her by the vest, talon like hands digging into her shoulders. Her back hit a tree, and the creature pulled back, bringing her along. Again and again the beast slammed the woman into the tree, starts filling her vision, air fleeing from her body. With every strike against the bough, she could feel her spin rattle, and pain shoot through her ribs. After a handful of strikes, she finally noticed the large piece of shrapnel sticking from the deformed woman’s collar bone, and her hand shot out to push it in. The creature dropped her, and she rolled to her sword, swinging at the thing’s legs. She swiftly cut her down, taking of the thing’s head once and for all. Cuts throughout her vest and shoulders were the only visible injuries, though the internal damage was immense.
Jaskier burst through the bushes, lute raised, but his crazed eyes found her sitting, trying to catch her breath next to the headless creature. He dropped it, Geralt bursting through the bushes next, holding a similar swaddle. Her rows raised, trying to take her mind off the pain, silently questioning the bundle in her lover’s arms and the brown, red spread over her best friend’s figure.
“Animals. Dead animals everywhere. I took this part of the contract thinking I’d come out clean for once-.” Geralt’s scoff cut him off, though his tone was soft, and she recognized it as the tone he uses with her wrapped in one another’s arms.
“You didn’t have a choice.” Jaskier swaggered over to the beast’s body, poking it with his foot before holding out a hand to her. She declined, but motioned to the water skin on his hip, trying to take the attention off of how quickly she denied his help. If she was going to get up, it would be on her own time. She could barley breath as ribs were definitely broken, but she would take inventory in a moment. Though, all thoughts of that ended once the bard’s thumb jabbed backwards in the air towards the slowly moving Geralt.
“We found the kid alive and well. A happy ending for all. Do you think we will be named the kid’s Godly parents?” Y/n’s eyes never left the witcher, her heart speeding up once more, and drowning out Jaskier’s voice. Wide amber eyes were entranced, staring in wonderment down to the bundle in his arms. His entire upper body was stiff, and he was walking as he would when sneaking up to a monster with heightened hearing. A small hand poked out, trying to grab at the lose white hair that swung invitingly over the child’s face. His brows furrowed upwards, looking almost frightened at the outstretched hand. The pain she felt ebbed away at the sight, nothing existing except the love of her life holding the child.
Much ran through her mind in that moment, many things consisting of the future she wished to spend with the witcher. She knew a kid wasn’t in the cards, but somehow, she would try to convince him to collect his child surprise. There didn’t need to be a cottage, stable job, thriving garden or lazy Saturdays to make Y/n happy. She simply needed Geralt in her future to make her future complete, and his happiness was hers. The glow of reigned excitement was familiar to her, often seeing it in her witcher’s eyes when he looked upon her in public. Y/n tried to be as much as she could for the man, though she was aware she couldn’t be or bring everything. But she would try her damndest.
She was taken out of the frequently repeated vows to bring the witcher light and contentment by the brunette plopping down next to her, and bumping his shoulder into hers. Pain flooded the forefront of her mind, and a gasp came tumbling from her lips. Worry painted Jaskier, and Geralt made for her, but stopped when he heard the child in his arms gurgle. Worried eyes flew over her form, and she steeled her looks to present a smile.
“Claws in the shoulder ‘s all.” He gave an unconvinced nod, but looked back down at the child. She slowly got to her feet, giving the same smile to the bard and began down the path where they had decided to leave Roach. Jaskier continued to hover, making the baby giggle, and Geralt was truly perplexed. Y/n wasn’t going to do anything to ruin the time the witcher had with the small child in his arms, so continued to keep her mouth shut about her ribs and back. Once the trio had gotten to the mare, Geralt had a bashful smile gracing his features. Y/n couldn’t help but truly smile in return, until it turned sour at the witcher’s offer.
“Get on Roach.” Usually Geralt would offer her the horse when she was far worse for wear than he, though she didn’t think it was the best idea. Offering it to Jaskier instead would seem to suspicious, let alone the fact that she had never declined the offer before. The only smooth way to keep her off of the horse would be to ask to carry the baby, though she would never do that when he looked so enchanted. Giving a curt nod, she pulled herself onto the mare, her forehead resting on her neck for a moment to regain her strength. Roach gave a worried snort in response to her tense rider, but luckily, neither of the boys noticed. The trio had made their way back into town, Jaskier singing of the spooky lair filled with animal corpses, Y/n keeping in sobs with every step Roach took, and Geralt wishing every happiness to the babe in his arms.
Hearing the bard’s voice, the mother they had met earlier flew out of the house, almost tripping over herself to get to them. She almost bulldozed the White Wolf, her arms wrapping around the baby. Geralt had a hint of sadness in his eyes, though a ghost of a smile was present seeing the baby smile, grabbing onto his mother’s thumb and shoving it into his mouth. The husband rushed out due to hearing his wife cry. A smile broke across his face as he jogged to them, tears streaking his own face. Mariene, the wife, smiled. Her hand reached up to the witcher, cupping his pale cheek. Y/n smile once more, Jaskier playing triumphant background music as the rest of the village left their tasks to surround them. The woman slowly slid down the horse, watching from beside the bard and mare how praise finally rained onto the wolf. Her hand went to hold her ribs, pushing.
“Thank you! Thank you!” Mariene cried. The thanks fell from her lips like a prayer, the witcher shocked. He shook his head and pointed to Y/n, Mariene pointing praise to the warrior as well. The husband, Bernerd, shook Geralt’s hand as Mariene hugged the lights out of Y/n, quite literally. She tried to say something, but the stars flooded her vision. Luckily, Mariene moved to Jaskier, but the bard’s worried gaze flew to Geralt as he called to him. The witcher quickly caught the fainting woman, all joy taken by fear. He was quick to her side, his amber eyes pleading with the bard silently to keep the village attention. They didn’t need a scene, the town loosing too many people to the creature already. He swooped Y/n into a bridal hold, but she started to moan in pain by the hold on her ribs and spine. She tried to arch away, but she couldn’t breath either, not being able to walk.
The woman continued to blink in and out of consciousness, the witcher’s worried voice keeping her earthed. His own pained expression silenced her, her lips sealing so all noises were casted into pained grunts.
“Stay with me, Y/n. Only a few more steps.” Despite her trying to do many things, among them apologizing for ruining his rare moment of joy, she couldn’t stay awake.
//
Jaskier’s voice flew throughout the inn, the melody he sung slipping through the floorboards into their room. Practically the entire village was there, despite everything. The couple had paid in full for the return of their child, the Alderman paying for the trophy of the creature, the innkeeper clearing their tab and the village’s heart once they heard of the whole tale. Y/n had been out cold for a day, and the town wished on every star for her health after finding that she was the one who fought the thing. The couple had brought the child around earlier in the morning for Geralt to see, wanting to see if Y/n had awoken yet. The witcher sat beside her since the healer left, never moving from his chair. His pale hands gently rubbed ointment into Y/n’s stomach as she awoke that night.
Seeing her eyes open to meet his made his mind finally relax. The entire day was spent scolding himself for not seeing the signs. He knew everything about Y/n, trying his hardest to make her happy in anyway he could. The White Wolf never really took to conversations, so he expressed himself by listening, observing and doing. He trusted Y/n to take care of herself, but that didn’t mean that slip ups never happened. Maybe if he noticed sooner. If he had stuck to their routine, checking over her like every other contract, he could have noticed, and they wouldn’t be in this situation. Jaskier had pulled up a chair, sitting and watching next to him the night prior. The bard had also refused to leave or sleep, only getting a wink of rest when he passed out from exhaustion. That too Geralt burdened. The bard took to mending Y/n’s main vest, the claws had punctured holes into it. He had also found water and a sponge for Geralt to wash her shoulders. Jaskier also tried to convince Geralt that it wasn’t just his fault, the bard not noticing or asking either, but the witcher refused.
Geralt would do anything for Y/n, and he put things like checkups in order to keep her healthy. He couldn’t give her things most people want, and nowhere close to what she deserved. But he tried, and this didn’t help show it. He felt as though he failed her, and failed himself. Y/n was his world, and he couldn’t take care of it. If he couldn’t take care of it, he certainly didn’t deserve it.
“I’m sorry, Y/n.” He watched as she slowly blinked, taking in her surroundings. Her eyes flew down to her chest, finding her abdomen and shoulders dusted with ink black, blues and yellows with bruises. She sighed, barely trying to sit up before pain shot through her spine and she settled back down.
“I could have said something.”
“I should have noticed.” She sighed again, her hand landing and stilling one of his that continued its butterfly touches as it rubs in the ointment.
“I would have remained silent again.” His face steeled, leaning in closer as his brows furrowed.
“Why? You were harmed, and I could have helped.” She smiled, eyes closing.
“You looked so happy with that baby. I… I know we can’t have a lot, but you deserve the world. A little joy with the expense of some bruising is worth it.” His hand flipped, snatching hers within his, squeezing.
“You are my world. I should be giving you that joy.” She grunted in annoyance, though her eyes were bright as she opened them again.
“You being happy makesme happy.” He grumbled, clearly defused, but something still bugged him as he went back to rubbing.
“Still, I’m sorry for not asking earlier-.”
“Geralt.”
AN/// I live in a place where it is winter most of the time, and I’m not living my best life with the sun rn. I actually have had heat stroke, so I feel this.
For my pal @theichabbieclub , thanks for requesting!
Geralt x reader, Best Friend Jaskier
Dresses weren’t really made for the path. Y/n had witnessed Yen, Sabrina and Triss flourish in battle while wearing them, but maybe it was a sorceress thing? It certainly wasn’t Y/n’s. Every day she stuck with a cotton white long sleeve that was much like Jaskier’s chemise minus the lace. A dark purple vest was donned most days due to the padding within it. It wasn’t necessarily armor as there were no metal plates, but it was extra protection. Usually, her vest would be half made up, sleeves rolled to mid forearm, boots laced up to the knees and hair would be down, flowing in the wind.
Today there was no wind. No shade. Nothing to keep the sun’s beating rays from striking her eyes and warring her skin. Sweat prickled her skin hours ago, but her pores still stung during every fresh new wave. At first, the vest had been opened and the sleeves rolled up as far as they went. Her eyes watched in wonder as Geralt sat upon Roach, proud in his full black leather armor. At least the bard had shed his doublet, sharing some of her pain.
The next to go was the top laces of her boots. How were knee high boots practical anyways? Well, Y/n knew why she wore them, and despite the burning in her calves, the reasonings still seemed justified. Yen had an affinity for the style of boot, and while Y/n discarded the heel aspect, she had to admit that it did bring out the shape of her claves nicely. Of course, it wasn’t a competition. Geralt and Y/n had been in a relationship for two years, the witcher making it clear that he couldn’t love her the same way. Sure, a djinn’s magic binds them, but it can’t make them love each other, that was quite impossible. The leather kept in the heat, and the pants tucked in down to the ankle wasn’t helping. The one blessing was that the wetness of the cloth had yet to start squeaking against the leather with every step.
Three hours into the day, and it seemed like they were in the middle of nowhere. They were close enough to the Sand Pit where one side had been scarce fields and the other was desert. At the three and a half mark, Y/n switched spots with Jaskier in their little walking order, and looked up to her lover with pleading eyes.
“Darling?” Geralt’s brow was raised and a smirk accompanied it, trying to convey that the term of endearment was a lame trick to get what she wanted. Though, if the White Wolf was honest with himself, he’d give her the world if she asked. “Can I steal your hair tie? Please?” Golden eyes watch as a bead of sweat trickled down her forehead, barely missing her eye when it passed. The rest of the ties were at the bottom of his pack, and he didn’t want to stop them, trying to get his lover and bard into cooler temperatures as soon as possible. His hand reached up, pulling the small leather tie from his hair. White strands fell, and he shook his head so they would go back into their natural place before placing the band in her now outstretched hand. Both of her brows were at her hairline and a loving, knowing grin was spread. “That was quite dramatic,” referring to his hair flip. “But much appreciated.”
The nonexistent wind on her now bare neck didn’t help at all. There was a decision to be made, and it wasn’t taken lightly. She could feel her shirt sticking to her, the vest being another item keeping heat clinging to her skin. Y/n tried to be as modest around Jaskier as much as possible, and she didn’t know what could be seen through her soaked shirt. But the bard had become a very close friend, and this has become very desperate measures. The vest had been shed, and she was now out of options to shed clothing. There was no shad for miles except for what Geralt and Roach casted, though she had moved into that spot during hour five. How could there not be a settlement or weather shift in five hours?!
Broaching hour seven was where things went south. Y/n had long forgotten the embarrassment of Geralt definitely being able to smell her sweat due to his senses, or how her shirt was completely soaked through. Walking in a straight line hadn’t been a thing for a couple miles, and Y/n started to loudly sing along to Jaskier’s humming. Geralt was like he usually was, checking in on their vitals, but keeping his eyes on the road. Being so close to the Sand Pit gave him anxiety for his companion’s safety, though he knew now that they’d be near a town within the next half hour. It seemed though, that he should have been paying closer attention.
Jaskier had gotten close to the witcher’s side, whispering up to him.
“Is Y/n okay?” Geralt’s brows furrowed and he turned in the saddle. Y/n was a few paces behind them, face aimed at the sky, eyes closed. Her lips were pale, practically white, a clear sign of dehydration. Her shirt was completely soaked through, drops of sweat beading and dropping halfway down her arm. Feet barely lifted off the ground and her humming had become hoarse. Geralt was off Roach and by her side in an instant, and she barely questioned him hoisting her into the saddle. A water skin was quickly shoved into her hand.
“Drink this, you’re going to pass out if you don’t.” Her whole body tilted his way as she gave a tired yet sly look. Her voice was only a quiet mumble.
“Would that really be so bad?” She brought the waterskin to her lips, though after her second gulp, Geralt’s gloved hand gently squeezed her thigh.
“Small sips. Give a minute in between each. Too much water could do you more harm than good.” Her hand came out, and she booped his nose, half delirious.
“Well look at you, my smart, handsome Mountain Man.” The bard snorted, but the witcher ignored it, giving her a loving grin and disbelieving brows.
“Mountain Man?” She hummed in agreement, a curt nod accompanying.
“I like this- this sitting down stuff.” The witcher also hummed, very amused, but worried. Guilt was eating away at him. There were Elven springs he knew of near where they were going, though long abandoned. He had a friend he had asked a while ago to clean it for them, giving the two some time off together. Alone. The nearby town large enough for the bard to make tavern rounds. Once they got to the cool springs, he would try and pamper, well, his version, as a way of apologizing for choosing the faster but more reckless path.
“Y/n,” the bards voice piped up in inquiry. Her whole body shifted, tilting over him now. The water skin was brought up to her lips once more in a quick sip. Jaskier smirked, knowing the opportunity he had. Y/n was very honest, and he knew he could get more out of her in her exhausted state. “What does Geralt reallythink of my singing?” He heard a scoff from the other side of Roach, but only smiled when her honest eyes went wide with joy and a fond smile towards whatever memory came to mind.
“He loves it! Once, you sang ‘Thou Winter Wind’, and he cried-.” Geralt was quick to drop his smile.
“Y/n!”
Jaskier♡Priscilla Part 4. ModernAU
Sketch_time✏ Welcome to my Instagram @art_by_marietta for more artworks
Jaskier♡Priscilla Part 3
Welcome to my Instagram @art_by_marietta for more artworks
Jaskier♡Priscilla Part 2
Watercolor(A3, A4). Sold. Welcome to my IG @art_by_marietta for more artworks ❤
Geralt, drunk and jealous: Do you think people will ever stop eyeing Jaskier up?
Yennefer: *Takes a long sip of her wine*
Yennefer:No.
*Yennefer as a landlady*
Yennefer, to Jaskier: Your rent is due but you can pay at your convenience, sweetheart.
Also Yennefer, to Geralt: You’re going to get your eviction notice if I don’t receive the payment by the end of the day.
Jaskier: Why would anyone even begin to think of going big?
Geralt: What?! Listen-
Jaskier: Especially when the alternative is getting to go home?
Yennefer: He’s got a point, you know.
Oh Geralt, you poor thing!
*At the supermarket*
Geralt: What should we get for dessert?
Yennefer, : We have dessert at home.
Geralt: What type of dessert?
Yennefer:Jaskier.
Jaskier, shopping for a pretty outfit: This is outrageous. The ones I like don’t have pockets.
Jaskier: Is there anything worse than having no pockets in your fancy outfit?
Yennefer: Yeah, having fake pockets.
Jaskier x Reader
!SPOILERS FOR SEASON 2!
Words: 540
Summary: As soon as the song hit your ears, your heart broke.
You looked at Yennefer, hearing his voice after so long did something to you.
You thought you were over him, that you moved on, clearly, that wasn’t the case. You still loved him. Even after you broke his heart on that mountain and left with Yen, your feelings for the bard never stopped.
But that song was not about you.
The butcher he kept on singing about wasn’t you. You could only imagine the song he wrote about you. But you could imagine.
Then Yennefer told you to go to him, talk to him, she could wait. And you ran.
You ran up to the bar and found him at a table, sitting alone.
“Jaskier?” you asked with a soft voice.
He recognized you immediately as you saw him freeze in his place and then slowly really slowly he started to turn around and looked at you. He might look different from the last time you have seen him but it was still him, that you could tell.
“Is that’s really you?” he couldn’t believe his own eyes it felt he was imagining things wondered someone was playing some prank on him. They had to. You couldn’t be there.
Not with the way you looked just as beautiful as the day you left him.
You offered him a smile, you were ready for him to yell, to scream at you, call you names and say that he never wants to see you ever again. And you wouldn’t blame him.
But he didn’t.
No.
He ran over to you, his drink long forgotten, he ran to you and hugged you.
“You are as beautiful as the day I lost you.” he said with tears in his eyes, he leaned in to give you a kiss.
A kiss that exploded in your stomach, filled you with a warmth you never thought you would even feel again. A kiss so gentle, as if he was afraid he would lose you if he kissed you too hard.
And yet, here you were, in his arms again.
You forgot the entire world around you, nothing mattered anymore.
And you just knew you would never be able to leave him again. No matter what Yennefer or the world has to say.
The two of you were meant to be.
“I’m so sorry.” is what you said when he pulled away from the kiss. Letting your words and his soak in as you pulled him in for another kiss. And this time it was a lot more desperate than the first.
A kiss shared between two lovers.
And when he pulled back the third time, you looked into his eyes, you knew you broke his heart, you knew you didn’t deserve his forgiveness, but he gave it to you. Jaskier was able to forgive you, seeing it in his eyes, you were glad.
You enjoyed every moment until Yen would decide to come up and you will have to face reality once again. You weren’t sure if you were ready to do that.
And somehow, Yennefer understood. And she waited.
She let the two lovers reunite.
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