I have a request! Its completely fine if you decide you dont want to do it, I just cant stop thinking about it and was hoping to get the idea off my mind. It would fall along the atypical lines of Modern!Reader falls into the world. They travel w/ Geralt & Jaskier, & sing songs while they are on the road from their world. I love the idea of Jaskier constantly asking questions bc the music style is so different from the normal. (And Geralt possibly being interested in Readers answers as well!)
A/N: This sorta devolved from what you asked and kinda got away from me, I’m sorry. I’ve also decided to split it into two parts so here’s the first!
Warnings: Geralt is a bit of a brute, Geralt is jealous, food and insults get thrown around. Also someone tries to hit the reader but nothing actually happens.
Word count: 2,235
You didn’t know where you were.
You’d been walking home from your bus stop, earbuds in and not a care in the world. You were following your usual shortcut through the woods behind your apartment when everything got……strange.
The world seemed to blur and tilt and condense all at once so you had no sense of direction and could scarcely breathe as everything blurred and you wondered if you were perhaps dying.
Then your back slammed into the ground, knocking the wind from you.
Wheezing, you slowly sat up, pulling an earbud out and looking around you in confusion. You were just starting to get your bearings, studying the unfamiliar forest around you, when an arrow whistled past your face close enough to graze your cheek. You flinched and scrambled back with a yelp, taking cover behind a tree.
“Geralt wait! I think it’s a girl, what if she needs our help you brute?”
“What if it’s a trap laid out to lure us in and rob us blind?” a gruff, surly voice (Geralt,you supposed, based on the other’s words) replied.
The first voice tutted. “Always such a pessimist.”
“It’s the only reason I’m still alive, Jaskier.”
The first voice (the one you thought was Geralt had called him Jaskier) didn’t answer, but after a moment a young man leaned around the tree you hid behind, blue eyes bright and smiling warmly. “Sorry about that, are you alright?”
“I'm….fine,” you said slowly, staring at him. He looked like he was headed for a Renaissance Faire, dressed flamboyantly in an olive green and yellow doublet and brown trousers. He was likewise gawking at you, and you self-consciously ran a hand through your hair and straightened your jacket.
“What strange attire,” he seemed to marvel as he looked you up and down. “Geralt, come here,” he called over his shoulder. Turning back to you he added, “Are you alright? It looks like his arrow nicked you.”
“I’m fine,” you repeated. “Just a bit….lost, I suppose. And very confused. Where are we?”
“Not too far from Oxenfurt,” Jaskier replied cheerfully. Your head began to hurt. Was this some kind of LARPing situation?
“Where is that? And how did I get here?”
Jaskier tilted his head, but Geralt spoke before he could, standing and glaring at you suspiciously.
“What is this?” He held your phone and earbuds in his fist, shaking it at you in an accusatory manner. “Some sort of spying equipment? Who do you work for?”
You looked at him in bewilderment and irritation. “That’s my phone. And why are you accusing me? You’re the one who almost shot me, I’m not the dangerous one here. In fact give me that back.” You held out your hand. Geralt narrowed his eyes at you.
“What do you mean "phone”?“ he demanded, making no move to return it to you.
"My cell phone,” you snapped, exasperated. “That I use to call and listen to music and play games like everybody else does.”
Jaskier snatched the phone from Geralt, turning it this way and that curiously. “This odd little contraption can do all that?” he asked you earnestly.
…….this was surely a joke. “Look, I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but I’m going home.” You snagged your phone from Jaskier, winding your earbuds around it and tucking it safely in your pocket.
Geralt grabbed your arm in a bruising grip, startling a yelp out of you. “You reek of magic,” he growled. “You’re going nowhere until you explain–”
You’d had enough. Geralt swore nastily when your knee connected with his groin and you swiftly wrenched your arm free, but Jaskier jumped in front of you before you could run, hands held up in a pacifying manner.
“Wait! I’m sorry for him, but please don’t run away. I have so many questions for you,” he pleaded.
“Jaskier,” Geralt growled.
“Trust me, Geralt, I’ve got a good feeling. Please?” He smiled at you as you hesitated. “We’ll walk to town, I’ll buy you a drink in the tavern, and then we can part ways after if that’s what you want.”
You crossed your arms. “A drink and a meal.”
Jaskier beamed. “Done. Let us be off!” He offered his arm to you. You shook your head, but followed him as he led the way, presumably into town.
You could hear the quiet rustle of the underbrush as Geralt stalked behind the two of you, making the hairs on the back of your neck prickle.
The tavern was dim and filthy and smelled faintly of piss. You wrinkled your nose and considered walking right back out. But Jaskier was already speaking to the barkeep while Geralt went and claimed a table in the corner, choosing the seat that put his back to the wall.
You pursed your lips before reluctantly walking over and sitting across from him. He leveled a glare at you, which you returned in kind as you began to comb your fingers through your hair, trying to work out the twigs and leaves tangled in it. He pulled his hood up and glowered at the wall, arms crossed over his chest.
The two of you sat in silence thick with tension and animosity until Jaskier bounded over and slid into the chair next to you.
“Come now, why the sour faces? It’s exciting, meeting new friends!” he declared, setting tankards down in front of each of you.
“She’s not my friend,” Geralt muttered, at the same instant you snapped, “He’s no friend of mine.”
The two of you levelled a startled look at each other before going right back to glaring.
You grabbed your drink and took a large gulp, letting out a pleasantly surprised hum at the taste. It wasn’t as cold as you usually took your drinks, but the slightly fruity taste made up for it. You sipped it more slowly and Jaskier winked at you.
“This place may not look like much, but they do brew a very fine ale,” he told you, lifting his own cup in a toast before taking a drink. He twisted so he sat sideways facing you, one arm slung along the back of his chair and the other resting on the table. “So, first things first. Julian Alfred Pankratz, at your service, but call me Jaskier.” He winked before inclining his head towards his companion. “That’s Geralt of Rivia. And you are?”
Despite your general unease at this whole situation, and your irritation at Geralt specifically, you were having a hard time not being charmed by the oddly dressed man.
You allowed a small smile. “I’m Y/N L/N.”
“Interesting, I’ve never heard a name quite like it. And where do you hail from, dear lady?”
You told them the name of your town. Jaskier raised his brows and Geralt’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t believe I’ve ever heard of it,” Jaskier said thoughtfully. “And here I thought I’d visited everywhere worthwhile the Continent had to offer.”
A young lady dressed as a barmaid brought out bowls of stew that….didn’t look too appetizing, brown and mushy. But the promising scent of spices wafted up to you, so you tentatively picked up a spoon. The first bite melted on your tongue, savory and tender.
Jaskier watched you expectantly, eyes bright. You swallowed and licked your lips. “It’s good. Thank you.”
Jaskier clapped his hands together. “You clearly have impeccable taste, my lady.” A quiet laugh slipped out, you couldn’t help it.
Jaskier asked you many questions about your home, your life, and your interests, and you did your best to answer. He was oddly enraptured by what you considered fairly commonplace information, but being the focus of his attention was a bit flattering.
He bought you drink after drink, strummed on his lute and hummed a bit and shamelessly flirted, but you didn’t take him too seriously, he was just having a good time, you were fairly certain. He was fairly good with the lute, you had to admit, and he effortlessly lifted your spirits as the afternoon wore on, all the troubles you carried slipping from your mind.
Except for Geralt, silently watching the two of you with a glower.
You turned to him sharply when Jaskier went to refill your drinks yet again. “What is your problem?” you demanded.
“You are my problem. You reek of magic and other things I can’t identify, and the things you tell Jaskier make very little sense. I can only assume you’re lying to gain his trust, but that won’t work with me.”
You looked at him in indignation. “I’m not lying. And I have no intention of harming Jaskier, because he’s been very kind to me.” You opened your mouth to say more but you realized something suddenly and gave him an odd look.
Geralt somehow managed to scowl harder. “What?”
“You care for him. That’s why you’re acting this way.” Geralt’s eyes narrowed at you, but you noticed he didn’t deny it. “You’re trying to protect him because he’s important to you.” The tight feeling in your chest eased as understanding washed through you. “I’m not going to hurt him, Geralt.”
“So you’ve already said,” he growled, jaw tight. You watched him carefully and felt an amused grin start to tug at your lips.
“I’m not going to take him from you, either.”
Geralt’s face froze and you knew you were right. “He’s sweet, and charming. And I like him. But I’m no threat to him, or to you. So you can relax.”
“…..I don’t–” Whatever denial he had ready was cut off by Jaskier plopping another round of drinks on the table. You took a drink to hide your amused grin as Geralt snapped his mouth shut. At least he’d stopped glaring at you, gaze now directed at the table.
Jaskier looked between the two of you. “What did I miss?”
Geralt’s jaw flexed and he shot you a don’t you dare sort of look. You quirked a brow at him, all of your previous irritation having melted away. “Not a thing,” you assured Jaskier without breaking Geralt’s gaze. You caught the barely-perceptible droop of his shoulders as he exhaled a breath.
Jaskier looked between the two of you before shrugging and plopping down again, offering you a charming grin. “In that case–”
“Enough of your antics, Jaskier,” Geralt suddenly sighed. You bit your lip to hide a smirk. “We should find accommodations for the night before it gets dark–”
He was interrupted by a chunk of stew hitting his face with a wet smack. He froze, and you stared before twisting around to look at the other patrons. A lot of them were staring at your little group. One man had his eyes fixed on Geralt with a sneer.
When he saw you looking at him, he spat on the floor. “We don’t want his kind ‘round these parts,” he announced nastily. Quiet murmurs broke out all over the room, none seeming to disagree. Geralt sighed roughly and you looked back at him. He’d swiped the food glob off his cheek and was making to stand, looking resigned.
“Geralt, no–” Jaskier protested.
“It’s not worth looking for trouble, Jaskier,” Geralt muttered. The two of them were so busy arguing, they didn’t notice you slipping away, carrying your bowl of stew and walking to the man sat at the bar.
He looked at you with a lecherous smile that made your stomach turn. “Glad you’ve seen sense. Best for a lovely lady like you to not keep company with the likes of them–” He was cut off when you dumped the entire bowl over his head. There were a lot of gasps before silence filled the tavern.
“I’d rather loiter with them than with a beast like you,” you declared quietly. His stunned look swiftly twisted into one of rage and he raised his fist.
You braced yourself, but before it connected the man’s wrist was grabbed by a hand wrapped in black leather. The man froze and you tensed slightly as you felt a warm presence at your back.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Geralt’s voice was low and dangerous; you felt the rumbles vibrate through your back.
The silence stretched as Geralt and the man stared each other down with you stood in between them, heart pounding. You huffed and twisted to look at Geralt. “Enough. If these are the kinds of people that frequent this place then I want nothing to do with it.” You placed a hand on his chest, pushing lightly, which caused him to finally break his staring contest to look down at you. Your breath caught – you hadn’t noticed before, but this close you could see the shocking gold of his irises, burning with anger. Those had to be contacts, right? Some really cool contacts, but nobody had eyes like that.
You cleared your throat, pushed again. “Let’s go.”
He nodded sharply, flung the man’s arm away and stepped to the side. You walked past him to where Jaskier was gaping at the two of you like a fish.
“I can’t believe you just–” he began.
“We’re leaving,” you interrupted. He blinked and broke into a wide grin.
“Quite right. Lead the way my good lady.” You huffed and stomped out of the tavern. You heard Jaskier behind you, presumably speaking to Geralt.
“I am absolutely going to put this in a ballad!”
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