"I Know"
-> Jaskier x gn!reader
Notes: Not requested, I just thought up something short and sweet. My first Witcher fic in a long time, so enjoy! <3
“I’m a bard by trade,” he had said with great confidence when Geralt first introduced you two. He adjusted the lute slung on his back and held out a hand for you to take. “I’m Julian Alfred Pankratz, but you may know me as Jaskier, famed musician across the continent.” He was unmistakably eager and you eyed his hand for a moment, before taking it in yours and giving it a firm shake.
“I know,” you said, eyes flicking from his face to the instrument. “I’ve heard your songs.”
“Oh?” he grinned, eyes lighting up. “Which ones? What is your favourite? No, wait.” He shook his head, stopping you from answering. “Don’t tell me. I’ve found my new muse. I’ll write you a new favourite.”
You scoffed at the idea, your face warming slightly. “As long as you don’t get yourself killed, sing to your heart’s content.”
The grunt from the witcher at your side revealed Geralt’s obvious exasperation, but you didn’t mind the hopeful look on Jaskier’s face.
“I think we’ve walked by that tree stump a few times already,” Jaskier noted, his voice trembling as he wrung his hands. You couldn’t tell if it was because of the cold or the possibility that something wicked was afoot. He lingered a few feet behind you, taking in the thick forest that engulfed the path you followed.
“I know,” you agreed, hand resting on the sword on your hip, cautious in your footsteps. “Something isn’t right here.”
“It’s magic,” Geralt called over his shoulder, leading Roach further down along the trail. “An illusion. A seemingly never-ending loop; think of it as a bottomless mug of ale. We’ll pass through it soon.”
“Last time I checked, a bottomless mug of ale is a good thing and doesn’t make me see things,” Jaskier snarked.
With a chuckle, you turned your head around to lock eyes with the bard. “Depends how shitty the ale is and how much you’ve drank.”
“Ha! A joke. Very funny,” Jaskier rolled his eyes with a reluctant upward tug of his lips.
“The bard’s grown quite fond of you,” Geralt stated, arms crossed over his chest as you perched your elbows on the table.
“I know,” you chuckled, leaning your chin on your fist as you watched the show.
The man in question was prancing around the tavern, furiously strumming his lute as the song picked up and met its climax. The band accompanying him only spurred on his theatrics and added to the drama, leaning into his ballad and its passionate lyrics. Jaskier sent an almost suave wink towards your table, making you laugh with a newfound fondness spreading through you.
Geralt looked between the two of you, frowning slightly before returning to a neutral demeanour. “He can be a handful sometimes,” he added.
You grinned, catching Jaskier’s eye from across the room as he bowed to the gathering crowd. “Oh gods, I hope so.”
“I’d be yours, if you asked,” the bard, sitting on a stool that faced away from the screen divider in the room. He fidgeted with the sleeves of his new doublet, pulling at a frayed bit of embroidery and trying to ignore the sound of shuffling over his shoulder.
“I know.” From behind the divider, you tugged on the frilly and pompous outfit, the one gifted to you for the court feast later that night. It itched in spots that most definitely should not itch, but you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and managed to ignore the discomfort the clothes brought you. You looked rather… good. Noble. Smart. Clean. A stark contrast to your travelling gear.
“Patience is my middle name.”
“I know for a fact that is not true, Jaskier,” you teased as you emerged and picked some imaginary dust from your shoulder. You cleared your throat prompting him to turn around. He stared at you, blinked, and then a smile bloomed across his face.
“You look… aha, you look ravishing, darling.”
You shuffled on the spot, looking down shyly but enjoying the attention anyway. “Thank you,” you murmured. You heard him cross the room, and felt a finger gingerly lift your chin enough so that you met Jaskier’s gaze. He looked at you tenderly, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards.
“If it means anything to you,” he said, adjusting the shoulders of your outfit absentmindedly, “I’ll wait as long as it takes to be yours.”
Your eyes stung ever so slightly, glossing over despite yourself. You bit your lip, considering his words before taking his hands in yours and stepping forward to close the distance. “Then wait no longer.”
“I wish we could stay like this forever…”
“I know,” you hummed with a soft smile, reaching out to brush his cheek with your knuckles. He closed his eyes at the contact, relishing in your touch. His hair fanned out against the pillow, a dark halo that was only washed hours before, the faint smell of lavender soap lingering in the air.
As the sun set, and the city outside of the room you resided in began to stir, you slowly and reluctantly withdrew yourself from his embrace.
A whine escaped him as you stood up from the bed and started to collect yourself, and he buried his face in the bedsheets to muffle himself. You chuckled, pushing up your sleeves and slinging your cloak over your shoulders. You leaned down and pulled the sheets aside, revealing a pouting bard with messed up hair. You placed one hand on the bed to prop you above him, and planted a brief kiss to his expectant mouth. “We really must go,” you whispered against his lips as one of his hands cradled the back of your head.
With a cheeky smile and mirthful eyes, Jaskier simultaneously tugged on the collar of your clothes to bring you closer to him and pushed away the arm holding you up, resulting in you flopping on top of him. “Oh, I know, darling,” he said, laughter in his voice as he pressed kisses to your jaw before trailing a few down your neck. “But did you know that I don’t care enough about this banquet to have us leave so soon?” He tilted his head back, admiring you. “Do you know how much I love you so?”
And for once, not knowing didn’t bother you.
No. It didn’t bother you in the slightest when you returned his words of affection and spent a while longer in his arms. Banquets and itchy outfits could wait.
