Time for dinner!
Isabela Madrigal x Female!Reader
"Isabela your girlfriend's here!" Camilo called out, reminding all within hearing range of when Isabela and Marino were dating before they split up.
"Shit, I'm not even ready!" The young woman panicked, earning a strange look from her youngest sister.
"Isa, you look fine."
"No, I was going to wear this dress- stall her!" She hissed at her cousin and sister, before hurrying out of sight to change.
"How do we stall her?" Camilo asked, both Madrigal's approaching the older woman.
"I don't know. What do lesbians like?" Mirabel asked.
"I don't know. What do you like?"
"Hola!" Y/N waved at them both with a grin.
"Y/N!" Camilo jumped forward. "How's the shop? Wait, stop, stop. I can't walk and talk."
"It gives him bowel problems." Mirabel said before her cousin could answer, earning a glare from him.
"Really? You might want to get that checked out." Y/N gave him a concerned look.
"It's a shapeshifting thing. It's fine." Camilo shrugged it off.
"Right." She gave the younger two a strange look before shrugging. "But yeah, the shop's good. What's for dinner?"
"Empanadas. My mama's special recipe." Mirabel beamed.
"Great! Shall we go in?" Y/N moved closer to the house, but the teens caught her by the arms.
"No!" Camilo panicked.
"Why? Is something wrong? Is Isabela okay?" Y/N panicked.
"No, she's fine." Mirabel winced at the older girl's questioning glance. "Okay, fine. We're supposed to stall you because Isa is changing. Apparently, she wants to change her dress even though she looked fine earlier." She rambled.
"Mirabel!" Camilo huffed, rolling his eyes. "Ugh, come on then. The truth's out now." He began to walk up the hill towards the house, ignoring Y/N's confused look. "I don't have bowel problems, by the way. That was a lie." He turned to glare at his cousin, who gave him an innocent look.
"Hola, Y/N!" Julieta greeted the woman with a smile and a kiss on the cheek. "Isabela's upstairs. Why don't you sit at the table? Everyone else is already there."
"Gracias, Julieta." She thanked the older woman.
"Y/N!" Isabela ran down the stairs, greeting her girlfriend with a short kiss and a hug. "I didn't know you were here." She gave a pointed glare to Mirabel and Camilo, who held their hands up in surrender and walked to the dining room.
"It's cute that you wanted to change your dress for me, Isa, but you don't have to ask your sister and cousin to stall me." Y/N laughed at the scowl that overtook her girlfriend's face. "Now, come on. I'm told we are having empanadas."
They both sat at the table, enjoying the small talk and questions thrown their way.
"So, when are you two getting married?" Abuela asked conversationally, making Y/N choke on her water and Isabela to sprout flowers around her.
"I don't know." Y/N gasped out, earning a firm pat on the back from Augustín. There was an awkward moment of silence. "So..." Y/N asked in the same tone as Abuela had. "When is Camilo getting his bowel problem fixed?"
Mirabel burst out laughing, snorting into her hands as Camilo shapeshifted into a bunch of random people in surprise and embarrassment.
"What?" Pepa asked in alarm. "Mijo, you have a bowel problem?"
Dolores giggled under her breath as Mirabel laughed harder, Y/N joining in as Camilo's cheeks dusted pink.
"What's so funny? This isn't a laughing matter. If Camilo has a bowel problem, then we need to get it che-" Pepa was cut off by Mirabel sliding off her chair and landing on the floor, making a few others at the table giggle.
"I hate you both." Camilo covered his face with his hands.
When the laughter had abided, and the confusion was cleared, Isabela broke the silence. "Soon." She hid her smile with her hand. She met Y/N's confused gaze with a flirty gaze of her own. "Very soon."
A/N: fuck i love her. i say that about all the madrigal women. is it a lie? no. no it isnt. this is a repost from wattpad! if you want to check out my acc, my user is wizzy357 ((:
44 with geraskier for the dialogue prompts?? if you feel like it 💜💜
In Plain Sight
44. "Tell me you love me one more time."
(1.2k, geralt pines and it’s becoming a theme)
“Yes, dear husband?”
Geralt pinches the bridge of his nose. “Stop it. It’s over now.”
“Why I don’t know what you mean,” Jaskier says cheekily, cupping Geralt’s cheeks with both hands, squeezing gently. “Light of my life, heart of my songs, fire of my—”
“Don’t finish the thought.” Geralt is so very close to begging and, by some miracle, Jaskier relents. The bard releases him with a slight pout and picks up the scissors again for the futile endeavor of recreating his old haircut.
It turns out one tends to forget how their short hair is styled after keeping it long for too long. Jaskier is determined to shed his false persona, but Geralt only gives a contemplative hum.
Shame, he really liked the long hair.
“Alright, I’ll stop.” Jaskier presses his face close to the mirror to trim the fringe above his brows. “What did you want?”
“You mean now that the mission is over and you don’t need to play the doting husband anymore, what will we do?”
Geralt simply crosses his arms in answer.
“You won’t need to do anything, darling witcher.” Jaskier winks at him through the mirror. “I’ll write a letter, make up some excuses or a breakup. Maybe some horrible accident that took my husband from me way too early? Which one do you prefer? Know that I’d make the most convincing widow. Heartbreak does come so naturally at this point. Practice makes perfect, am I right? Anyway, it’s only my mission, so you can be on your merry way by this evening.”
“Just like that?” Geralt frowns.
Somehow, it seems surreal that their little farce is already over. Just a month, Jaskier said at the time, a month of wine and food and dancing with your best friend, and oh, we need to pretend to be hopelessly in love. Also, it’s kind of a life-and-death situation, so…act for your life. Well, my life.
And it was so easy to pretend to be in love with Jaskier, to hold his hand in the public eye and murmur sweet nothings into his ear.
Too easy, because Geralt has done it in his dreams a million times.
And now he’s waking up.
“Still,” Geralt clears his throat, “where will you go?”
“Novigrad, I’m sure. Report duty to Dijkstra. Urgh, that’ll go well.” Jaskier puts down the scissors with a thud, grimacing. “The man has never approved of my method, and now he’ll say I’ve drawn too much attention, with a fake husband so less. Will a spy master ever understand the merit of hiding in plain sight? Well, he’s no boss of me.”
“He literally is, Jaskier.” Worry churns in Geralt’s stomach. This whole spying business always leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. It’s dangerous in a way that makes Geralt feel wrong-footed. Monsters he can deal with, but Jaskier being involved in the political upheaval of the North…
He’s just a bard, for fuck’s sake.
“You’re sure you can handle it on your own?” Geralt asks again, hiding the uncertainty in his voice. He must be doing a terrible job because Jaskier’s eyes widen in understanding.
“Oh,” he breathes, “Geralt, it’s sweet that you worry, but I know how to stay out of trouble.”
“History may suggest otherwise.”
“History suggests,” Jaskier deadpans, placing a hand on Geralt’s forearm, “that I’ve survived this far, and I can take care of myself. Yes, even when you’re not there, darling.”
The endearment manages to make Geralt’s heart flutter, despite having heard it every day in the past month. It’s because this is real, he knows. It’s Jaskier’s words to him, and only him. No one else is listening.
“I could go to Redania. Take the long way home,” Geralt offers, knowing that one word from Jaskier and he’ll go anywhere on the continent.
But Jaskier smiles that smile only reserved for him, his eyes crinkling with warmth.
“And here it goes, all the façade of your grunts and scowls. I know you are soft for me, somewhere deep down, and all the pretense can’t hide it.”
“Wasn’t trying to.” It slips out too easily, hitting too close to home, so Geralt amends, “I’m playing your husband, remember?”
“Hmm. It’s hard not to.”
The tiny smile widens, and Jaskier’s happy scent is so overwhelming Geralt has to will his face not to flush. He fails.
“Well, husband,” Jaskier adds, mischief gleaming in his eyes, “if you are truly dismayed to part with me, perhaps I can keep something of yours. After all, the road is full of danger. Who knows what kind of beasts are out there?”
Jaskier is standing too close and Geralt’s voice comes out a bit too hoarse for his liking.
“What will you keep?”
“Why don’t you…tell me you love me,” Jaskier swallows, eyes drifting down a smidge, “one more time. For our short-lived marriage.”
Geralt opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He steps back, the most horrible thought crossing his mind—
If he says it out loud, it’ll be real.
“Jaskier, I—” he winces as the bard snaps out of his stupor. “I can’t—”
Jaskier retreats, his hands returning to his side and smoothing his doublet nervously.
“No, of course not.” The bard shakes his head as if to berate himself. “We are not acting anymore, and there’s no one here, so… I shouldn’t have.”
The distance between them is too great for Geralt’s heart to handle, but he stays where he is as Jaskier packs away his things and sling the lute onto his back, his head ducked low the entire time.
“Anyway, see you around,” Jaskier exhales, and passes Geralt, still not meeting his gaze.
Geralt flexes his fists a few times awkwardly as Jaskier walks away, before instinct takes over and he calls out.
Before Jaskier can react, Geralt has turned around and pulled him into a hug—a surprise to the both of them—their bodies slamming into each other with unexpected force, their arms winding tightly. Geralt burrows into Jaskier’s neck so the broken look on his face can never be seen.
“Don’t die in Redania,” he says eventually, letting out a shuddering breath.
“You too. Don’t forget—don’t let Roach forget me.”
Geralt’s hand ends up at Jaskier’s nape, touching the freshly trimmed stubbles there. He misses when he could thread his fingers through Jaskier’s long hair. He misses playing with it as countless eyes watch.
He wishes he could do it still, with no one watching.
And then Jaskier is gone, rounding a corner to disappear into the hallway in no time. His strides are way too quick for Geralt to discern the falter in his steps, his face turned away the whole time.
Jaskier never looks back once.
For the first time in a month, the space between Geralt’s arms is truly empty, just like the bard-shaped hole in his chest, carved out by years worth of longing.
And it won’t be filled for a while yet.
Tagging: @rockysstupidity @flowercrown-bard @alllthequeenshorses @mothmanismyuncle @percy-jackson-is-sexy- @constantlytiredpigeon @behonesthowsmysinging @kitcatkim3 @endless-whump @rey-a-nonbinary-bisexual @llamasdumpsterfire @dapandapod @kuripon @holymotherwolf @theamazingdevilgivesmehope @julek @glows-n-the-dark @jemmasimmons @daisyyydaisyyydaisyyy
I now keep seperate lists for non-smut and smut content, so feel free to tell me which one, or adding and removing in general.