#Julian Pankratz Imagine

[blog-of-a-multitude-of-fandoms]

Jealousy- Jaskier (2)

Pairing: Jaskier x Reader

Characters: Jaskier

Warnings: N/A

Request: Wattpad- Can you make a one shot where Jaskier and the reader had been best friends since they were children and then as they grow older, they start to develop feelings for each other. Though they’re too scared to admit it to each other. And then when Jaskier and Geralt became famous, the reader and Jaskier started to grow apart because Jaskier was really enjoying his fame. Then the reader started noticing Jaskier hanging out with lots of women so her feelings are starting to hurt. And then one day she catches Jaskier having “fun” *winkwink* with another woman. Then the reader becomes heartbroken and all kinds of stuff. Then you know, they’re gonna talk seriously then they kiss and admit their feelings ang stuff. Their history as childhood best friends is completely up to you. All I want is some jealousy and angst and fluff mwehehe (i like hurting my feelings a bit what can I say)

Word Count: 501

Author: Charlotte

You tried to reach the stairs and head down to the main floor of the inn, hoping to find a closet or any other secluded area to figure out what you were going to do now that you saw your best friend in a compromising situation. You struggled to reach the end of the hallway before you were stopped by someone’s hand grabbing hold of your wrist.

You feared turning around to see who it was but when you heard the familiar voice say your name, you couldn’t stop turning back to see your best friend.

Jaskier’s face was almost as red as your own but unlike you, he wasn’t dressed, instead only wrapped in a sheet that he had haphazardly thrown around himself.

“I’m sorry for intruding,” you said, your words bitter and pained, something that you had hoped would be hidden from him. “I didn’t know you had company.”

He sighed, running a hand through his dark tussled hair.

“Wait… why are you upset?” He asked.

You shook your head. “I’m not upset, why would I be upset?”

Jaskier looked over your expression. Normally he could read you like a book but currently you didn’t make any sense to him. He didn’t know if it had been because you had been apart for a while, but it was unknown to him what was going on with you.

“We’ve been friends for too long for you to pretend you’re okay,” he stated. “You’re my best friend, you can talk to me.”

“Maybe that’s the problem,” you snapped.

He cocked an eyebrow at you. “I don’t understand.”

“I love you Jaskier,” you huffed. “I think I always have, and I didn’t realise how much it was going to hurt to see you with another woman. I get it, we’re just friends but I didn’t think I was about to walk in and see you like that, and I didn’t even know you were with anyone.”

You didn’t think you’d say that you didn’t think you could even think that so coherently. The two of you stood in silence for a moment before he could fully understand what you had said to him.

“You love me?” He asked.

You let out a sigh. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

His hand moved down from your wrist to take your hand in his.

“No, you should have said something ages ago,” he said. “Y/N, I’ve been in love with you since we were kids. I just never thought I had a chance with you.”

“What?” You croaked. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Why didn’t you?”

You couldn’t help but smile at him, both of you having been daft for so many years.

“So, what does this mean?” You questioned.

“It means I need to go apologise a lot to the woman in my room and then we can continue this conversation when I am a little bit more clothed,” he offered.

You nodded your head. “That sounds like a plan.”

[mischievous-thunder]

A shopkeeper: So, what's the occasion?

Geralt: I'm looking for something to cheer up the wife.

The shopkeeper, glancing at Yennefer: Why don't I ask the missus?

Yennefer, pointing at a fuming Jaskier in the distance: Do you think our wife is in the mood for a conversation?

[hannibard]

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

[xejune]

gerlion 🏹💕

[fandom-junk-drawer]

Imagine Jaskier getting cursed and being turned into a mockingbird.

Geralt: Oh no! Jaskier's been turned into a mockingbird!

Jaskier: "OH nO! jAsKiEr'S bEeN tURnEd iNtO a mOcKiNgBiRd!"

Now Geralt has to listen to this bird repeat everything he says while he rushes to find someone to break the curse.

"Hm."

"hM!"

"You sound ridiculous!"

"yOu sOUnD rIdICuLoUs!"

"Shut up, you're so annoying!"

"ShUt uP, yOu'rE sO AnNOYiNg!"

Also, Jaskier has retained his human intelligence but pretends otherwise just to f**k with Geralt.

After the curse is broken and Jaskier is back to normal, he claims that he's only repeating what Geralt says because of the mockingbird instinct, but it's really because he thinks it's funny how annoyed Geralt gets when he does it.

[spielzeugkaiser]

It's giggle time! Full version under the cut:

[watch-that-writer-burnnn]

Keeping You Warm

Pairing: Jaskier x reader

Summary: Sad bard turns up soaking on reader's doorstep during a storm, so they offer to give him a bath to warm him up. Comfort and cute bath fluff ensues

Warnings: fluff, fluff, fluff! Nothing explicit but it does get a bit steamy... Maybe a little angst but not really.

Words: 2159

A/N: I wrote this ages ago but forgot to post it. Hope you enjoy!

He was the last person you'd expected to see tonight, especially not looking like this. Dripping wet, brown fringe plastered onto his delicate face, soft blue eyes staring sadly down at you. He shivered, numb fingers trying in vain to hold his soaked doublet closed across his chest, which was heaving with ragged breaths of exhaled steam.

Behind him, rain mercilessly tore up the muddy ground, the light from the lantern by the front door casting odd shadows on the shimmering ground.

A puddle formed on your doorstep as you stared in disbelief at your old friend.

"Jaskier? What are you doing here?"

He attempted a smile, opening his mouth to respond, but was suddenly overtaken by a coughing fit, doubling over. You rushed forward, reaching for his shoulder and guiding him inside, pulling the door shut behind you.

"S-sorry..." he muttered shakily. He managed a smile as his eyes met yours. "It's good to see you."

You beamed back at him.

"It's good to see you too, Jask." You threw your arms around him, squeezing him tightly as he wrapped his own arms around you, firm hands pressing into your back. You relaxed in his embrace, smiling into his shoulder. He really was soaked, and the brush of his fingers through your shirt felt like ice. You finally pulled back.

"What the hell were you thinking, being out in that storm? You could have frozen to death!"

"Yeah, I know. I just... Needed to see you. And my weather forecasting skills are unfortunately lacking."

You sighed. "Well, at least you're here now. Come on, let's get you warmed up."

You pressed a kiss to his cheek, the warm touch of your lips making him blush slightly, obvious against his cold, paled skin, and led him by the hand towards your crackling fireplace.

"We'll get you out of those wet clothes, and then run you a bath," you said, looking him up and down to determine which of your garments would best fit him.

"So keen to get me undressed?" he smirked. You punched his arm.

"Don't flatter yourself," you winked.

"You'll freeze to death if you stay in those soaked clothes."

You turned to leave the room, but Jaskier quickly reached out and took your hand in his own, pulling you back and staring deep into your eyes.

"Thank you," he said, rubbing his thumb absentmindedly against your fingers, traces of playfulness wiped from his face, replaced with a genuine appreciation for your actions.

You swallowed.

"You're welcome, dear heart," you whispered.

***

You returned with a blanket just as Jaskier was pulling off his shirt. His doublet was neatly folded over the back of a chair by the fire, and his boots lay discarded on the floor. You approached the shirtless bard, eyeing his exposed form. He was still quite skinny and slender, skin soft and chest covered in a thick coat of dark hair, but he appeared fitter now, more muscular.

"Here. Wear this until the bath is ready," you smiled encouragingly, moving towards him with the large blanket outstretched and indicating a chair nearby. He sat, and you leaned in to wrap the blanket around his still shivering form, feeling his warm breath on your face as you pulled it over his bare shoulders. He wriggled cutely in the chair, getting comfy, his movements prompting you to giggle.

"What is it?" he asked, oblivious to the effect he had on you. In response you simply leaned closer to him, resting your forehead against his. You both closed your eyes, and he sighed at your touch.

"I've missed you so much, Jask," you whispered, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek.

"I didn't realise how much I needed you in my life until you left," you admitted.

"Don't worry, love. I'm not going anywhere," he said, voice a low rumble. You made the mistake of opening your eyes, and were met with an intense electric blue gaze, which was locked on your own. Your eyes flicked down to his party open lips, tantalisingly close, and suddenly you kissed him, quickly, strongly and filled with longing.

Then you came to your senses - you'd just kissed your best friend. The two of you had always been close, but this was something different.

"Oh. Oh god, Jaskier, I'm so sorry, I don't know what I-"

He silenced you with a passionate kiss of his own, letting the blanket fall away as he pulled you closer with an arm around your waist and a hand on the back of your head. He moaned into your lips, eventually pulling away.

"You've got no idea how long I've wanted to do that," he smiled, brushing his fingers along your cheek.

"Me too," you whispered, pulling him closer, warm lips back on your own.

***

Jaskier sank beneath the steaming water, groaning with relief as the weight was taken off his aching muscles. He sank down lower beneath the bubbles, closing his eyes and sighing.

"Just how long were you riding to get here, Jask?" you asked, turned away from him as you gathered a collection of soaps and scents from around the room.

"Oh, I don't know. A week? Two weeks? Don't worry about it."

You spun around, brow creased with concern.

"Don't worry? You were alone, without protection, on the road for two weeks. For what? To see me? I'm not worth the risk, Jask. You should have waited for Geralt."

"He was... busy, and like I said, I needed to see you - and you are absolutely worth the risk, dear heart." He did his best to look sweet, pouting and staring right at you with his intoxicating blue eyes. It worked.

You shook your head, unable to mask your smile as you moved over to the bath, setting the soaps down on a nearby table. You smeared shampoo onto your hands and moved closer to the bard.

"What- what are you doing?"

He pulled back as you reached towards him.

"What do you think I'm doing? I'm washing your hair."

He glanced uncertainly at you, swallowing nervously.

"It's alright, really. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. Just go take care of yourself. Besides, the greasy look rather suits me, don't you thi-"

You swiftly leaned in, kissing him gently.

"I knew that would shut you up," you smirked. "Now, please," you whispered, "let me look after you for once."

He nodded slowly, and you kissed him again, before pulling away to sit on a stool positioned behind him. He gratefully sank back against the edge of the bath as you buried your hands in his soft brown hair, massaging in the soap. Jaskier hummed in satisfaction as you rubbed your hands against his scalp, forming a foamy layer over his hair.

He began to sing softly, occasionally sighing deeply as you passed your fingers through his hair. You poured warm water over his head to rinse the soap through.

"How does that feel, love?"

"It's wonderful. Thank you." he reached behind him to grab your wrist, pulling it around and placing a soft kiss on your hand.

You wrapped your other arm around him, one either side of his head, and leaned forward, burying your face in his shoulder from behind as you slid your hands down onto his partially submerged chest.

He hummed as you rubbed his chest, stroking a finger along his collarbone and enjoying the soft hair beneath your fingertips. You began kissing his neck, pressing your lips into the hot, sensitive skin and drawing a series of whimpers and little moans from the bard. He tilted his head, exposing more of his neck as you continued.

"Don't stop," he begged softly as you began to pull away.

"Patience, love." You shuffled your chair around to the side of the tub, before reaching towards Jaskier, turning his head to face yours. He groaned as your lips collided once more. You slid a hand behind his head, pulling him into you, and squeezed his shoulder with the other. His tongue darted greedily into your mouth, and you moaned. When you finally separated, he kept his eyes closed, lips parted, savouring the memory of your touch.

You stroked his face and he smiled, slowly opening his eyes. "We should do that again sometime," he sighed.

"How about now?"

***

Jaskier had finished his bath, which included lots of kissing, and even more touching. Now that your feelings were out in the open, Jaskier couldn't seem to keep his hands off you, rubbing your back, stroking your face, tracing his fingers - or lips - along your arm. You'd insisted on taking care of him, washing him with plenty of soaps and scents, gently massaging the mixtures into his soft skin as he hummed happily, eyes closed. As reluctant as he was to have someone take care of him for a change, he clearly enjoyed it.

Now, you were cuddled up in bed, beneath heaped blankets, bodies pressed tightly together. Jaskier lay almost on top of you, one leg thrown across your thighs, his bare chest pressed against you and his arms wrapped around you in a tight embrace.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead.

"Thank you, love."

"For what?"

He hesitated, pouting, searching for the right words.

"For caring. I don't usually... Well, not many do. Care about me, that is."

You sighed sadly, and kissed him gently.

"You deserve to be cared for, Jask. More than anyone I know. I see the way you spend so long looking after everyone else, making sure everyone's okay, but... no-one ever seems to return the favour."

He looked away, lowering his gaze, but you noticed his cheeks reddening and his eyes sparkling with fresh tears.

"I-" he croaked, unable to find the words. He'd clearly given this quite a bit of thought before you'd brought it up.

"Hey," you whispered, "It's okay."

You reached up to stroke his cheek, before gently turning his head to face you again. You met his deep blue-grey eyes, the flickering light of the fire reflected in them. Gods, were they gorgeous. Intoxicating.

"I love you, Jask."

He managed a smile.

"And I adore you."

His lips met yours again, and he squeezed you tighter, moaning into your mouth. You ran your fingers down his exposed back, making him shudder and increasing the array of sounds coming from his mouth.

When he finally pulled back for air, you took the chance to flip him onto his back, and lay on top of him. You wrapped your legs around his waist, running your hands over his chest as you deepened the kiss, feeling him exploring your mouth with his tongue and humming contentedly.

"So good for me... I don't deserve you..." you muttered praises against his lips.

Jaskier shuffled backwards, sitting up against the headboard as you settled in his lap.

You continued to kiss him, leaning over him to grasp his face in your hands and pressing your lips down into his.

Jaskier broke through the moans escaping both your mouths as he began to sing pieces of his newest song, snatching at the words between ragged breaths and passionate kisses. You laughed against his lips, prompting him to sing more, almost moaning out the words as you tugged playfully at his silky brown hair, twirling it in your fingers. You finally pulled back, and he tried to follow your lips with his own, eyes still closed, outlined with delicate lashes set against flushed red cheeks. You sighed at the sight of him, so desperate for your touch, but stopped him by running your hands down his chest. You pressed a quick kiss to his nose, which he scrunched as your lips made contact.

"You're so beautiful, Jask," you said, gently caressing his face, his features appearing almost elven in their candlelit beauty.

He looked up at you with eyes full of an equal amount of adoration. His gaze managed to make you weak, as always, and you gave into those big blue eyes, returning your lips to their place against his smile.

***

You lay on your back once again, the crackling of the fire and Jaskier's soft breathing creating a beautiful melody in your ears. He lay on top of you, and you could feel the vibrations of his breathing against your chest. You snuggled comfortably beneath his warm, heavy body. His arms were wrapped around you, and the blanket lay strewn across him, leaving the smooth curves of his shoulders and back visible in the dim light. You stroked his hair as he began to fall asleep, utterly exhausted, but stubbornly continuing to sing under his breath, despite being so tired.

Managing to place a soft kiss on your lips as he was drifting off, he breathed a soft "thank you, my love," against your skin, before relaxing in your arms and settling into a deep, contented sleep.

[fangirlsfavoritebardboy]

I like to imagine that Geralt and Company constantly see Jaskier as this spontaneous village idiot and completely forget that he's actually a professor, a viscount, and a musical genius until he says something brilliant.

Like, what if he's singing a little ditty about snow at Kaer Morhen when he overhears Geralt complaining about how Ciri needs a regular book-smart teacher that can teach her more than swords and magic, and Professor Pankratz goes, "Sure. Let me make a lesson plan."

[blog-of-a-multitude-of-fandoms]

Orphan- Jaskier

Pairing: Jaskier x Reader

Characters: Jaskier

Warnings: N/A

Request: Anon- Could I request Jaskier x reader with the prompts  “You want a family with me?”, please? Thanks so much!

Word Count: 424

Author: Charlotte

When Jaskier had asked for your hand, you were overjoyed that it was the start of something perfect for the two of you. It wasn’t the most convenient that he travelled with Geralt often, but you knew that soon enough he would be your husband and no matter the distance, the fact of your relationship would hold true. Normally you stayed home when he travelled but at the last moment, you decided to accompany him into the unknown. Once they neared their final location, he paid for a room in a local inn for you, insisting that you stayed in the village that they would return to in a couple of days at the latest once Geralt had finished his work. You weren’t a huge fan of being stuck out of the way whilst the man you loved was in the midst of danger, but it somehow paid off when you met Eira.

Eira was a young girl barely in her fifth year, long forgotten to her parents or any other family. She was dirty and hungry. You couldn’t think of leaving her as she had before; an innocent naïve child had no place out on the streets. Without a second thought, you invited her into your temporary home where you were able to bathe her and feed her the first meal she could remember. You bought her a fresh outfit from the market along with a doll to help occupy her whilst you tried to figure out what you could do.

The easiest option would have been leaving her to the orphanage, but they were already full to the brim, and it was hardly a home for any child. No one in the village knew the child beyond having seen her begging on the streets, having survived on not much more than scraps. By the time Jaskier returned to the inn, you had become fond of the girl, and she felt the same.

“I do not know what we should do,” you sighed. “I cannot in my right mind just abandon her to the streets or the orphanage.”

Jaskier paused for a moment. “We could adopt her?”

Part of you had hoped he’d suggest such a thing, but you never truly believed he would. You assumed at some point you would have a child with him, but you’d never discussed having a family.

“You want a family with me?” You asked, a fond smile curling onto your face.

Jaskier stepped closer to you, resting a gentle hand to your cheek. “More than anything.”

[help-help-i-need-an-adult]

@0dde11eth @everything-but-the-not-natural

[mischievous-thunder]

Geralt, watching a bird documentary: Imagine having to sing a song to impress your potential mate.

Yennefer, staring at Jaskier: Such a hard thing to do indeed!

[jopzer]

— julek, is this you in this alley? —geralt, if you see a bitch in the alley with a bad bob that is NOT me. go the other way.

warm up doodle after ive had a few drinks and i remain haunted by the previews we've gotten of jask in s3

[pirateprincessblog]

𝐧𝐚𝐯𝐢.

𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘻 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘮𝘱𝘴

the walking dead masterlist

𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘱𝘢𝘥

𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘤.

𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

[fantasyqueen502]

"I am a husband now, a father, and damn good one."

A/N: Jaskier x male Y/N who is a Cyclops. Story idea that most likely has grammatical errors. Let me know. Feel free to comment, like, and enjoy.

Summary: Jaskier's time after the fight and separation with Geralt.

Rated: PG-13

Fighting, blood, swearing, injury and mentions of sex.

A hooded man carries barrels of ale on his shoulders like nothing. "Bout time. It’s a full 'ouse, and we’re running low!'' a very short and greasy man rants.

"Forgive me." comes from the pitch-black hole in place of his face shielded within the hood. Stocking the barrels onto the rack with each thundering step.

"Forgiveness," the small man scoffs.

"This is a bar, not Sunday school," he corrects. Scurrying out of the way as the large man walks to his horse with a cart of more barrels of his finest ale, whiskey, and wine "Brew too good for royalty". If only. This was the only bar that paid him; it was below any other winery, but he didn’t have the choice of getting what he deserved.

"Do you know how many others beg for me to do business?" he inquires. That was a lie. "I just might take up on their offers if you disappoint me again," he threatens.

"Won’t happen again." The man grits his teeth, trying his hardest not to growl, imagining wringing his hand around the small man’s throat and giving him some peace. Hoisting two barrels onto each shoulder, whimpers sound, catching the small man’s ear.

"You brought that runt again," he groans. "All it does is wail and squeal, causing my patrons to leave because they can’t even hear themselves think. "Thing sounds like it’s dying. Half the--" the man chokes as the large man punches his arm clean through the barrel of ale. A stream pours from it as he fills a mug.

"This shipment is on me," he whispers, extending the mug into the small man’s trembling hands. "Ale’s on the house!" he bellows, the crowd cheering and rushing over to fill their pints. "I’ll stock the basement in peace if you don’t mind," he continues darkly.

"D-Don’t take too long," he tries to threaten.

"Wouldn’t dream of it,"

With the party going on above, the soft whimpers turn into loud cries. As the large man rolls his neck and shoulder.

"Shhhhhhhhhh," The hooded man says, taking off his cloak and looking over his shoulder at the red-faced babe. Balling her small fists into his back as she wailed. Loosening the sash and cradling her in his arms. "What’s the matter, Tola?" he calmly wondered.

Tracing the horrific scars that stretched across the left side of her face, he smiled as her cry stalled, taking his finger in her fist. The scars were even on her entire left arm. "I wish I could take the pain away." He holds her close. Resting his forehead against hers. She had thick lashes and a doe-brown eye looking up at him. A song starts, and she calms. He is in bewilderment as she seems to smile crookedly, tilting her head towards the strumming of a lute.

Walking up the steps, he looks at the stage and finds a man who is a personified peacock. Strutting about while belting out notes with so much passion, he hears a muffled coo from Tola under his cloak. He chuckles, feeling her snuggle her chubby face between his shoulder blades. Taking a seat in the back. She needed a good nap, and he needed a moment of peace. Folding his arms one over the other and resting his head on them.

With a yawn, he readies his horse, which whinnies and pulls away from him. "What’s wrong, girl?" he asks, stroking her snout. Following her line of sight, hearing pained grunts. Following them to a dark alley. Two men stand beside a man throwing up on all fours in the mud.

"Serves ya’ right!" one shouts, spitting on the man.

"Fucking! Cocksucker!" the other screams, winding up his foot and kicking the man in the stomach. Crawling onto his knees.

"I'm all for presentation and the art of building up suspense, but for my sake." He sways forward, stumbling back and looking up at the men. Groaning as his head pounded, he was sure his brains were knocked loose. "Get the fuck on with it!" He hissed. Tilting his head back to laugh. His teeth were stained pink from the blood that flooded his mouth. "Just… I'm begging you." His breath hitches, and his lips tremble into a frown. "Put me out of my misery." He sobs. "Just kill me." He begs, holding up his hands in prayer. The men snickered, exchanging looks with sick glee. Socking the bard in the face and laying him out flat on his back "Since you asked so nicely." Unsheathing a Buck knife, the cloaked man grabs the man by the back of the neck. The man yelps, striking his knife into the dark figure's shoulder to the hilt. He seethes, throwing the man into the brick wall, his head painting it red. The movement caused his hood to fall. The cloaked man grunts, yanking the knife from his shoulder and turning to face the second man, who trembles. He roars at the burn of his wound, causing the man to run away as fast as he could in fear. Calming his breath, he hears the bard's groan.

"I should have known." The man rants, struggling to his feet and holding his arms out to his sides for balance. "You don't have the balls to—" he trails off, trailing his eyes up from the worn boots. Meeting the giant that loomed over him in the moonlight. Jaskier gawks as he meets the giant man's eyes—well, one big eye in the middle of his face. "A cyclops." He gulps, his eyes widening in horror. The man grunts, waiting for the man to either run away screaming like humans normally do or lunge at him to attack. But the bard was just full of surprises. His eyes rolled back along with his body, which fell to the ground once more.

The bard groans as his hand goes to hold his head. Slowly sitting up from the couch he laid on. A warm fire; it was night, and he gasped at a steaming bowl and cup of water. Scooping the warmed potatoes and meat into his mouth.

"Didn't think you'd wake up."

He freezes, staring into the corner of the room, trying to make out the figure in the shadows. He gulps, tumbling as the stranger steps into the light, poking the fire.

"A-are you going to kill me? Use my meat for stew and my bones for bread."

"You're thinking of Giants." He corrects. "I'm a Cyclops."

"Oh." The bard sounds

"Humans are too gamy anyway." He chuckles at the bard's horrified eyes. The bard laughed awkwardly, not knowing if the one-eyed man was joking or not.

Following the squealing cries up the stairs, pushing open a cracked door to a nursery. Peering over to see a screeching infant. The bard couldn't help but coo, his brows furrowing with concern. Half of her face was scarred.

"You want your daddy?" He asks. "He should be back soon." He hushes. "How 'bout a lullaby? Works on all the ladies." He swings his lute from his back to his front. Strumming a tune.

"If you're happy and ya know it, clap your hands." He sings and claps his hands. "If you're happy and ya know it, clap your hands." He does so, making a face and causing the infant's cries to soften just a bit. "If you're happy and ya know it and you really wanna show it, If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands." He finishes looking at the babe to see her quietly whimpering. Poking her bottom lip, her big brown eye with her thick lashes soaked with tears. The moment is interrupted by thundering footsteps.

"What are you doing?" He demands in a growl.

"I heard her crying and you weren't around," he tries to explain being shoved as the father inspects the babe, who resumes crying.

Trying to console her as she screams louder than before. Looking at the fallen lute, he picks it up, shoving it into the bard's unsuspecting arms.

"Play!"

The bard couldn't hear the father over the piercing wails, but he could easily read the desperation in his eyes. He cleared his throat, strumming his strands to find everything in tune.

"If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands." He sings with an ear-to-ear grin, and the small babe's screams soften. Her big doe eye watched him with curiosity. Ending the silly children's song, her heavy eyelid closed as she fell asleep with a crooked smile.

---Years later---

Downing the remnants of his drink and passing the glass off to a barkeep. The last of the drunken parents now vacated the pub that was with life moments ago.

"Bard." causes him to whip his head, and a scoff leaves his lips. "Witch."

"What are you doing here?" he sneers. "And what fresh hell did you just crawl out of?" he gestures to her disheveled appearance. Damp hair and dirt smudged her face and apparel.

"Sewer," she answers plainly, taking the first step. "What’s your excuse?" she jabs back, quickly closing the space between the two.

"A sewer," he cackles. Never in a million eons did he find himself in better standing than the witch that terrified him. He took his chance. "I always knew you were a blood sucking, joyless—" he bites his tongue as her tiny frame pulls him in for a hug.

"--hugger?" he states in confusion. "Hugging. We are hugging," he announces, trying to convince himself that what was happening was indeed happening.

"Oh, gods," he sighs, holding him at arm's length. "I missed the days when my biggest problem was an ever-present sing-songy twit," she smiles.

"Uh, drink? I’m gonna drink," he stammered, squirming out of her grip. "I’m not having this conversation unless I’m drinking." He makes his way around and behind the bar. Placing two pints onto the counter, looking to the witch who takes a seat.

"You’re the Sandpiper."

"What? No. Yes. No," he yelps, frantically trying to play it off. "How do you know that name?"

"You pick up a thing or two when you’re in hiding."

"You’re in hiding?" He snorts, his brows quickly shooting to the skies. "Because you’re part elf… Yennefer, I completely forgot. I’m so sorry," he says genuinely. "I would not wish that fate on my worst enemy, and, yes, you are…" he searched for the right words. "Firmly lodged in that category, it has to be said, but… What they’ve done to you and your people is… Unspeakable."

"But some people are speaking."

"There are anonymous benefactors working behind the scenes, helping me, helping us, helping us make this right. I was at the great oak, Bleobheris, when it was raided. The Seat of Friendship, as the druids called it. Where every free thinker was welcome, no matter their race, their creed…they come for the elves, Yennefer. They’ll come for the dwarves. And sooner or later, they will come for everyone." He stares off, swallowing thickly. "Anyone that they deem the "other," so… Eventually… No artist is safe."

"Why help? What’s in it for you?"

Opening his mouth to answer the creak of the front door. The bard's face lights up at the sight of who stepped through. Yennerfer turns to see a small child. In a powder pink shoulder cloak. Hood up as she took each concentrated step.

"My heart." He smiles, kneeling before the child, who lifts her hands high to be picked up. He does so resting her on his hip. "Where's daddy?" He asks, pushing her wild bangs from her eye. She coos, snuggling into his neck and playing with the lace of his blouse. She points to a far window as Jaskier nods. "Want. Coin. Want. Coin," She babbles.

"Whose this?" Yennerfer couldn't help, but smile.

"My heart, Tola." The bard smiles. "My daughter."

"Pleasure to meet you, Tola." She extends her hand as the small girl takes it. "I'm Yennerfer." She smiles.

"She's usually quite shy," he comments, somewhat impressed.

"Children are great judges of character."

"Coin!" She continues.

"Again?" He asks with an overdramatic expression, holding her high above his head. She nods adorably.

"Toss a Coin to your Witcher." He smiles as she giggles. "O’ valley a plenty."

Seated in a jail cell after a failed transport and an interrogation with a man wielding fire. Escape with Yennerfer only to be caught and interrogated again by guards.

He now stood before the Witcher himself, who tore out his soul and left him on a mountain, asking for his help.

"Jaskier---" the brute grumbles.

"No, Geralt!" He cuts off, surprised to see the white-haired man meekly biting his tongue. "I am a husband now, a father, and a damn good one!"

Walking out of the jailhouse, taking cover through alleyways. Geralt stops, and the hairs on his neck stand on end.

"What's the matter?" Jaskier asks.

"Quiet!" He hisses, throwing the bard behind himself and readying his sword as a familiar figure steps from the shadows. The figure roars, charging.

"Ger---" Jaskier reaches, but the Witcher bellows and charges. "NO! STOP! STOP!" he shouts, his heartbeat in his ears, as Geralt swung his sword, and the figure dodges and knocks the sword away with sparks from his metal bracers on his forearms. Lifting his arm, Jaskier holds it back.

"Fuck off, Jaskier!" he growls, shoving him onto his ass. The dark figure looks at the fallen bard with concern. Taking the opening, the Witcher drives his sword into the beast's shoulder. With an exclamation of pain, Jaskier scrambles to his feet. Geralt yanks back his sword, lifting his sword high for the finishing blow. Swinging it, he stops. The Witcher's sword nicked the bard’s neck, standing between him and the beast. He swallows, and fear holds him stiff.

"If you want to kill my husband, you'd have to go through me."

His yellow eyes narrowed. Gritting his teeth Jaskier slowly raises his hand, moving the sword away.

The Witcher growls, sheathing his blade.

"Y/N, Geralt, Geralt, the love of my life." He smiles as the pet name dampens the flame of seeing the bard’s teeth stained pink and the scabbed-over cuts on his lips and brow.

The men both grunted their greeting.

"I do have a type, don’t I?" He mumbles to himself.

At home, Jaskier demands that Geralt watch their daughter. The cyclops growls at the thought of his precious gift in the hands of a Butcher. "I trust him." He assures him with a hand on his chest. "He's a right softy with children."

Running a bath, the bard returns with an armful of rags and a bottle of alcohol. Assisting his husband with his cloak and shirt, his eyes watered at the grunt of pain from lifting his arm. "I'm so sorry," he mumbles, holding the alcohol-soaked rag to the wound. The hisses and guttural groans from his chest "This is my fault," he croaks.

"My dandelion." He coos, holding his cheek, forcing him to look into his eye. Reading the bard like a book. "Who do I have to make suffer?" He growls. His bruised temple and stained smears of dry blood around his nostrils.

"I'm fine." He assuredly swatted away his husband's hands, going to test the temperature of the bath. Hissing as he shakes his injured hand that touched the warm water. Stepping out of his trousers into the bath, Y/N takes his hand and ignores his recoil, finding it covered in red blisters and giving each finger a tender kiss.

"Little Tola won't have nightly lute lullabies." He sighs.

"Your voice is music enough." He assures.

"Must you always shower me with compliments?" He breathes. Y/N chuckles, locking his strong arms around his waist and forcing him into the bath, joining him fully clothed in the water. Jaskier exclaims, but laughs, sighing with content eyes flickering from his husband's eye to his lips.

"What of me, my dandelion?" He whispers huskily. The bard rests his total weight on him.

"Hmmm." He hums in thought, running his nose along the scruff of his jaw. Looking with big eyes. "Make me forget." He pleads.

Sitting up and holding him close.

Geralt stoically sits in the living room. Slowly closing his eyes to block out the sound of squeals from the bard and rhythmic banging. Spending his fair share of nights at brothels and whorehouses that seemed not to be so loud. Water begins to drip from the floorboards.

Feeling a tug at his pants and looking down to see the small, one-eyed girl. Black hair in a messy bob. Staring up at the ceiling as the bard's pleas for God rode the air.

"Suppa'. Suppa'." She babbles.

He stares at her.

She stares back.

He stares at her.

She stares back.

He stares back.

She points to her open mouth, causing the Witcher to exhale through his nose. Walking into the kitchen with the girl holding onto his leg. Giggling, he makes her a simple loaf of bread with butter. Handing it to her with hesitation. She gingerly takes small bites, hopping happily in place.

[fandom-junk-drawer]

The Witcher Headcanon - Hair Care Quick Imagine

Based on my Hair Care Headcanon

I'm at the hospital with my stepmom, waiting to talk to the Dr. (She's OK, just had a bleeding stomach ulcer.) I needed something to stave off the boredom!

Imagine that Jaskier just knows when Lambert isn't taking care of his hair right (skipping grooming steps, or just doing them wrong).

He can be half way across Kaer Morhen and his Fussy Bard Senses start tingling. One minute he's walking with Geralt to the Kitchens, the next minute he's a distant figure on his way to rescue Lambert's curls.

Lambert can be just putting the brush to his hair and Jaskier pops up out of f***ing nowhere with a rolled up paper and starts smacking him with it while screaming "Don't dry brush your curls, you utter Neanderthal!"

Lambert decides to skip the conditioner just one time, and Jaskier is suddenly behind him, whispering threateningly "You better f***ing not!"

Lambert forgets the final step and the next thing he knows the bard is chasing him down the corridor and tackling him while shrieking "Waiiiiit! You still need to scruuuuuunch!"

He tries to rub a towel through his hair to dry it one time and Jaskier is suddenly there, screeching in horror, yanking the towel away while his voice hits an octave that only dogs and Witchers can hear.

There's a loud crash and swearing from Lambert's bedroom, and when Geralt looks in he sees a swearing, struggling Lambert with Jaskier hanging off his back. Lambert is throwing himself into the wall, onto the bed, and rolling on the floor while the bard tenaciously hangs on screaming "Just put on the f***ing bonnet, Lambert!"

Geralt just quietly backs out of the room and shuts the door.

[railroad-migraine]

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