#tldr: yennefer plays matchmaker because idiots be idiots

[jaskiersvalley]

My good writer, I love everything you have written!!!👌👌👌 I just spent the past day reading the entirety of your blog and could not be more happier!!! Your writing is so good and great and amazing and spectacular!!! Thank you for making these stories that have captivated many, I'm just wowza my friend, I can barely contain all my emotions writing this I feel ive just made myself come off as awkward but uh *throws fingers guns* you got this bro keep doing what your doing it's great👍👍👍💞💕❤💖

I died at the finger guns, it has been too long since someone has done that to me, thank you! If you ever want to be awkward together, my DMs are always open for a chat :D Just bring more finger guns.

And, as it has become tradition it seems, a little ficlet of thanks for your kindness in reaching out and making me smile so much brighter with your words.

For a bard, Jaskier was really rather dumb. At least, that was Yennefer’s assessment as she watched from the door of the tavern. For months now, she’s seen Geralt mooning over him, trying his witcher-y best at emotions. Alas, it was all for naught and more often than not, he ended up sulking into a tankard of ale while his bard smiled and flirted with someone else.

The only problem was, while Geralt only saw his failures, Yennefer saw the other side of the pining too. There were longing looks, lines that Jaskier sang with his eyes fixed only on Geralt.

“Just use your words,” Yennefer nagged at Geralt as she sat next to him. Together, they watched Jaskier sing. Yennefer’s eyes were fixed on his fingers dancing over his lute, Geralt’s were following the sway of his hips. If he kept staring somewhere other than his face, no wonder he missed the longing looks sent his way. In fact, if he stared like that, it wasn’t surprising Jaskier was convinced Geralt glared at his crotch in the hopes of manifesting a new witcher trait and setting his trousers on fire with gaze alone.

“I tried.” The words were gruff and tinged with sadness. “He doesn’t want me. Not when he can wax lyrical about a village hunchback, make them sound like the most beautiful creation on earth. But when it comes to me...”

He doesn’t bother finishing his sentence. It was worse than flogging a dead horse. Sure, Jaskier could sing his praises in sing but he needed to if they wanted any coin. It was a matter of gritting his teeth and lying about Geralt to make ends meet.

Everyone had a breaking point and Yennefer had reached hers. As funny as it had been, watching to idiots be convinced they were both pining from afar, there were limits.

“Right.” She stood up and marched up to Jaskier, who had thankfully just finished a song so it was fine to interrupt. “You like Geralt, yes?”

“Well-”

“Yes or no? Do you want more than a friendship or just a fuck?” Yennefer wasn’t in the mood to beat around the bush and she watched as Jaskier’s lips turned down unhappily.

“Yes.”

“Good. Now, describe his hair.”

Confused, Jaskier glanced at Geralt who was staring into his ale with a grimace. “It’s like freshly fallen ash, a soft cascade of mercury that glistens in starlight. The gentle light of the moon has nothing on it when it’s freshly brushed.” He sighed wistfully. “To have the privilege of washing it, tangle my fingers in it is a greater pleasure than the finest whores of Cintra could bring.”

“Good.” Yennefer nodded. “Now describe my eyes.”

This was getting ridiculous but Jaskier wasn’t in the mood to defy the wishes of a powerful sorceress. Dutifully, he looked at her and did as asked. “They’re like the dewy glisten of nightshade on a shimmering summer morning.”

Before he could carry on, Yennefer was grabbing him by the wrist and pulling him towards Geralt. Stopping in front of him, she made her next demand. “Describe his eyes.”

After a long silence, Jaskier licked his lips and looked at Yennefer with worry. Of all the things to ask, this was just cruel. However, the hand around his wrist tightened and he hastily obeyed.

“They’re yellow.” Dumbfounded, Yennefer looked at him while Geralt just looked resigned, used to such lack of eloquence from Jaskier. He could see the the way Jaskier’s nose creased, lips curving awkwardly around words. “Like the egg yolk I had for breakfast. Sprinkled with pepper.”

Disasters, that’s what these two were. Yennefer despaired and all but threw Jaskier’s wrist from her grip. “And his hair?”

“White and grey? My family once had an elderly ass whose chin was the same colour when he went grey.”

What the hell happened to cascades of mercury in starlight?! All at once Yennefer understood why Geralt was so despondent and Jaskier was a lovesick fool - the emphasis being on fool.

“Right. Well, your egg yolk eyed ass has been moping for months because you don’t seem to want him. And you’ve been pining through songs from a distance for just as long. This farce has gone on long enough. You either sort your shit out here and now or I’m locking you both in the cellar until you work this mess out.”

Wide eyed the two twits stared at each other and Yennefer gave Jaskier a gentle shove so he’d sit down in the seat she had just vacated.

“So...” There was always a first time for everything and it seemed it was the perfect time for Jaskier to be speechless. To which Geralt replied with his usual silence and stare. “You don’t stare at me in the hopes I’d catch fire?”

It was painfully awkward and Yennefer wanted to scream. Instead she turned to the bar,determined to get herself a stiff drink. By the time she turned back towards the corner, Geralt was all but straddling Jaskier’s lap and kissing him. Slamming back her shot, Yennefer turned to order another. After downing that too, she turned to go tell the other two to get a room. Except the corner was already empty. Thank fuck for that.

#geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #yennefer of vengerberg #the witcher #tldr: yennefer plays matchmaker because idiots be idiots