AN: so I watched The Witcher on Netflix and I fell in love. This story is a series of short stories, completely out of order, posted as I write them. Maybe when I'm done, I'll reupload everything in chronological order. Idk.

Big thing about this, all I know about The Witcher is what I've seen, I haven't played a game or read a book. I'm also an experienced Dungeon Master, so I'm really going to be using more of a DND skin on this to pull in certain concepts and ideas that could make this really really cool. I hope you all enjoy!

Summary: Jaskier is always annoying... Except when he's talking about music.

They'd been on the road for weeks and it was starting to get on everyone's nerves. Jaskier was so grumpy and irritable that his roast game was on point, so much so that he'd been threatened to be disemboweled and turned into a toad. He was silent after that. Geralt was starting to smell worse than Roach and it was a stench that neither companion could abide for much longer. While Yennefer now looked the most put together of the three, when she'd awoken that morning she was a complete mess. Even with her magic tent with all its comforts, after 3 weeks it began to feel distinctly fake. That's why, even though it was only early afternoon, they stopped at the very first tavern they found. They hadn't even bothered to check the name of it or anything really beyond the stable for Roach before they barged in, Geralt requesting food and drink, Yennefer piping up that a bath was needed as well.

It was a this point that Jaskier usually added his own requests of the barkeep, but he was unusually silent. Both Witcher and witch turned to look at what had made this usually talkative boyfriend so quiet. He was staring at a grande piano set off the side, covered in dust but still beautiful. Even from across the tavern, they could see the wood was intricately carved and that it had been well cared for. They couldn't imagine what had caused such an expensive instrument to be left to rot, but Jaskier was staring at it like it was his new girlfriend.

"Barkeep!" he cried, whipping around with stars in his eyes.

"Lazlo!" the barkeep, Lazlo, corrected him.

"Is this The Blue Boar Inn?" Jaskier asked, running up to the bar and slamming his hands down upon it.

"Aye, tis," Lazlo said with a sigh. "And what of it?"

"Then that is the famous Concert Grand Piano made by Master Shuberette!" Jaskier explained, all but bouncing in excitement now.

"How is a piano famous?" Geralt asked, but he was pointedly ignored.

"Ye know yer history," Lazlo mused, impressed by Jaskier's knowledge and smiled. "Aye tis the very same."

This answer seemed to double Jaskier's excitement and when he leaned over the bar, his feet were 6 inches off the ground. "May I play it?!"

"You can play piano?" Yennefer asked, but she too was ignored.

"Ah I would let ye, son, but it broke a few years back," Lazlo explained. Jaskier deflated only a fraction, and only for a second, and it made Geralt and Yennefer take a step back. "See, me wife was the one what always maintained it, but she passed away about, oh must be 7 years ago now. She dinnae get to teach our daughter and my hands are not delicate enough for that work. When it broke, no one here could-"

"I CAN FIX IT!" Jaskier shouted so loudly and forcefully that even the barkeep was blown away. "Please may it fix it and play it PLEASE."

"Lad if ye can fix it, I shall give ye yer room tonight for free," Lazlo said with a nod. "It used to bring in so many people… And my wife loved that thing."

Jaskier had stopped listening some time ago, and had begun rummaging through his pack instead. He pulled out a large case, a case that Geralt had seen him pull out a dozen times. It held the tools that he used to fix his lute on the road, but Geralt had always noticed there were far too many tools for just the lute. Now Jaskier was removing those that Geralt had always wondered about and made a beeline for the piano. Yennefer was right behind him, curious, and Geralt had to get a beer before he too followed his boyfriend and girlfriend.

Gently, Jaskier sat down on the bench and blew away from dust before, flipping up the top to the keys. He sucked in a wondered breath and ran his fingers over them reverently. Geralt noticed the way he touched that piano was the way the bard touched him sometimes, on quieter, more intimate nights when fires were low and blood alcohol content high. He noticed, and saw that Yennefer sensed it too, a hum of magic woven into the wood. She traced a delicate finger over one of the carvings and whispered an incantation under her breath. The air swirled around the piano in seconds the dust was all gone from it.

"Thank you, that makes my job so much easier," Jaskier whispered. There was something about this space that made you not want to disturb it. "Now I don't have to worry about getting filthy."

"What's wrong with her?" Yennefer asked, her voice also hushed as she knelt down next to where he sat.

"I can only imagine…" he looked up towards Lazlo and shouted, "Barkeep!"

"Lazlo!" Lazlo shouted back.

"Do you remember the last song played on this?" Jaskier asked, his fingers poised over the keys.

"Oh I donnae remember the name," Lazlo said with a grunt. "But it went something like this…" Lazlo started to hum a tune that was both familiar and foreign to Geralt, but Jaskier seemed to know it in the first few bars.

The bard nodded, cracking his fingers and rolling out his neck. "Brace yourselves, this won't be pretty."

And he began to play. As promised, it wasn't pretty, every note was sour and wrong, but Geralt was able to see in the playing a skill that he didn't know Jaskier capable of. The song had a good tempo, getting faster and faster and more intense the more he played, until finally he hit what seemed the crescendo of the song and stopped.

"You poor thing, no wonder you broke," Jaskier whispered, patting the top of the piano in comfort.

"What's wrong with it?" Geralt asked, now intrigued.

"Besides it being horribly out of tune, there are 12 broken keys," Jaskier said, going to open the lid of the piano. Geralt was next to it in a second, his hand pressed down on the lid and not letting it move. Jaskier just arched his brow in question. Geralt couldn't seem to get his question out, but Yennefer understood.

"How do you know all of this, Jaskier?" she asked gently, putting a steady pressure on Geralt's arm to make him move it. He did, eventually. "I think you owe us an explanation."

"I do, and you'll get it, but first let me inquire about the strings." Jaskier pushed past them and towards the barkeep.

With a deep sigh, Geralt dropped back down into his seat and drained his beer. Yennefer just gave a small chuckle and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She was eager to hear Jaskier's story, and not just because he was a master storyteller. Since the three had started traveling together and engaged in this three way relationship, they hadn't bothered to learn much about each other's past. They had come to a mutual, yet silent, agreement that it didn't matter. After all, Yennefer and Geralt had both been alive far longer than Jaskier and while they had storied pasts, they were boring and long and hardly mattered, at least to them. They lived in the moment. But Jaskier, with his life so fleeting and short, Yennefer found his tales to be more thrilling than their own.

After an animated discussion with Lazlo, Jaskier returned to the table with three mugs of beer and a large plate of bread, meats, and cheeses. He placed everything in the middle of the table and sat between his greatest love into the world and his love's girlfriend.

"I attended the Bard's College in my youth," Jaskier started, making Yennefer choke on her beer.

"The Bard's College? I heard it was harder to get in there than Aretuza or Ban Ard," she coughed, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She'd picked up some nasty habits from these two men.

"Oh it was. Terribly difficult. I failed all four exams spectacularly," Jaskier said with a nod. "But I have perfect pitch and they wanted to cultivate that. My mum was smart, she had me apply when I was still a boy into their long term programe, so I spent years learning every instrument they put into my hands. So many, in fact, that I learned how to repair them all too. I got so good at it I could just listen to it and figure out what was wrong. My classmates called me a Master Diagnostician… I like the piano best. Much wider range of sound capable on it, but the lute is the easiest to travel with and doesn't need a lot of maintenance. I'm so lazy."

"We know," they answered so quickly and in unison that Jaskier looked offended.

"Hey now!" The bard sighed deeply, looking longingly at the piano and smiled a bit. "Every bard that went through that college learned of this piano. Master Shuberette was in love with a queen who told him that if he wrote her the most beautiful song in the world, that she would leave her king and marry him. But he couldn't find an instrument good enough to play it on. So he built this. It took him two whole decades to get it just right. He even enlisted a sorceress to help him carve the wood so it was perfect."

"Did he win over the queen?" Yennefer asked, leaning her head on her hand as she was enthralled in the tale. Geralt watched the love in her eyes and hid a smile behind his beer.

"He brought the piano to court and played his ballad for the queen," Jaskier continued. "Everyone in the room fell in love with the song, and with him. Everyone but the queen. For so much time had passed that Master Shueberette was no longer young and handsome. He'd grown old and wrinkled and the queen no longer wanted him. She banished him and his great piano from her land. But a lord at the banquet took pity on him and brought him the piano here. This place was built just for that instrument, so anyone who wanted could come and listen and enjoy. It was a palace at one point. The lord's sister fell in love with him and they lived here with their children and their children's children. A fire tore through here about 100 years later that left only what you see now. The family alive then turned it into the Blue Boar Inn. And the rest, as they say, is history."

Jaskier hadn't even closed his mouth before Geralt barked out, "Sounds like a load of bollocks."

"Geralt!" Yennefer reprimanded, her boyfriend's outburst startling her back to reality. "That was rude."

"What? 'A lord' 'a queen' 'some land', no true epic tale is so vague," Geralt said with a shrug. "So it's a load of bollocks."

This time the offense on Jaskier's face wasn't his usual feigned, over-the-top, offense. This was a true, deep hurt that made Geralt swallow.

"If you must know, the Queen was named Juletta, the lord was the first Lord Dunstill, and the land was what is today Cintra," Jaskier ground out between gritten teeth as he stood sharply and left the table and stormed out of the inn.

When the front door slammed shut, Yennefer turned on Geralt with such fury that his hand instinctively went for his sword, which was thankfully packed away.

"You're a brute and a beast, Geralt of Rivia," Yennefer snarled, making Geralt just scoff.

"I thought that's what you liked about me," he mused with a small smirk.

"Not this time," she said, her ferocity turning to disappointment as she stood and followed after the bard, leaving Geralt alone with three nearly full beers.

When Jaskier and Yennefer returned, Geralt was at the bottom of his fifth beer. The two brunettes ignored him, and instead turned their focus on the piano. Jaskier had gone outside to wait for the local smith to bring the spare piano wires, and now armed with wires and tools he was ready to begin his work. They lifted up the lid of the piano and hurt a hoarse 'fuck' from right behind them. Geralt had come to look over their shoulders and realized that he'd never hear the end of this.

There were exactly 12 broken wires.

"Go sit down, darling," Yennefer urged, gently shoving Geralt back into his chair. She turned to Jaskier with a smile and saw him taking off his doublet. "Tell me what I can do to help."

With a smile, Jaskier gestured to the pile of tools and wires as he set the doublet aside and rolled up the sleeves of his shift. "Hand me things when I ask for them."

With a nod, the two set to work on the piano. They started by detangling all the cruddy wires inside and removing them, a process that took so long by the time the last wire came out it was almost sundown. Then he had to restring each key, which kept him going on top of and underneath the piano. The process was riddled with colorful swear words and laughter from them both.

Jaskier didn't stop talking the entire time. Usually that was the height of annoyance for Geralt, but not this time. Whenever Jaskier started yammering, he was talking about everything and nothing. This time he spoke only of the technicality of the instrument he was working on. He spoke animatedly about the history of it, how the sound works, why each part is the way it is. Any question that Yennefer had he was able to answer, and did so with the calm grace of a master that knew his material. For the first time, Geralt didn't feel like everything coming out of Jaskier's mouth was horse shit. This man was intelligent in a way that Geralt and Yennefer were't. He wasn't afraid to share his knowledge either, in fact he seemed more than delighted to finally show his two lovers what he was good at. Enthralled, Geralt watched as Jaskier's hands wove the wires in and out until he was lulled into a gentle sleep.

Yennefer knew the second Geralt had passed out and took the brief opportunity. She turned to Jaskier, who was tying off another wire and asked, "Can I ask you a question?"

"Didn't you just?" Jaskier asked back with a smirk as he passed her his wrench and took another bundle of cable. At Yennefer's frown, he chuckled. "Of course, darling. Ask away."

"Do you have elven blood in you?" She was never one to beat around the bush, and Jaskier was well used to her bluntness by now. In fact, the question made him laugh as he dove into the piano again.

"My mum thought we did," he replied, his voice echoing in the wood. "Apparently my great-grandfather was twisted and deformed 'because of eleven blood' they said. Hard to believe though, considering he had 10 children."

"Why is that hard to believe?" she asked, her brow furrowing.

"Well, if he was so badly deformed, why would any woman have wanted to go near him, much less have 10 kids with him," Jaskier shrugged, coming up just long enough to wipe from sweat from his brow and dive back in. "Besides, I think it's a crock of shit anyway. I've met elves, they're all beautiful and graceful. How could all that beauty and grace make something ugly and twisted?" Yennefer decided staying quiet was best. When Jaskier reemerged, he saw the dark look in her eyes and sighed. "You know someone like that, don't you?"

"Me," she said with a nod. "Before my enchantments I was hunchbacked and broken because of elven blood."

"Liar," he scoffed, reaching up to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. But when he saw how greasy his fingers were, he pulled back. "I could never see you as anything but beautiful."

"All the result of magic, I'm afraid," she said with a sad chuckle.

"No," he replied, shaking his head in amusement. "A pretty face is nothing without a pretty soul. And a beautiful soul makes a gorgeous face like yours. So there." He felt a wire slipping and had to stick his head back in the piano, so he didn't get to see the gentle blush that came to her cheeks.

"Geralt."

"Oh leave him, he doesn't care."

"I think he would if he misses this. Geralt wake up."

"Leave him be, Yen. Please."

"Not on your life. Geralt! Get your arse up or I swear by the gods you will regret it."

There was a hand shaking his shoulder and Geralt's own shot up to grab it. Gold eyes snapped open to meet annoyed violet and he realized it was Yennefer trying to wake him. He pushed her hand off and shook the sleep from him. How had he managed to sleep like that anyway? Looking around he saw there were only a few people around even though it should have been the busiest time of night for a tavern. There was a cough and his attention was brought back to the Yennefer and Jaskier at the piano. From the way they were glaring at him, it looked like it was ready, they were just waiting for him to pay attention. So he sat up, rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and gave the bard his undivided attention.

Jaskier sat down on the bench once again, cracked his knuckles and rolled his neck, and took a deep breath. His hands were actually shaking as he lowered them onto the keys. He took a few more steadying breaths, but didn't find himself calming at all. Here he was about to play a piece of history. It hadn't counted earlier when it was broken. Now if he'd done his job right (which he was sure he did, his perfect pitch ensured the piano was exactly in tune) the piano would play just like it had back when Shuberette first made it. What if he messed up? It'd been years since he played piano properly, what if he wasn't as good at it as he remembered? What if-

A strong hand on his shoulder cut him off from his worries. He looked up to see Geralt and his usual half smile giving him all the encouragement that he needed. Jaskier took another breath and started to play.

The song was a soft and gentle melody that stirred something deep within everyone that listened. Something old and beautiful came to life in that song. It made one want to weep and laugh at the same time. It was a strange feeling, especially for Geralt. He looked to Yennefer, who looked similarly affected, and held out his hand.

"If you're willing to risk a crushed toe or two," he muttered, looking down at his two left feet instead of her.

With a giggle (and actual giggle, gods Geralt loved that noise) she took his hand and followed his lead onto what was clearly a dance floor. He started a simple dance, probably the only one he knew, and he wasn't terrible. Not nearly as good as the other couples that joined them, but not terrible. The tone in the music shifted to something calmer and slower and it made everyone in the room breathe a little easier. As Yennefer spun back into his arms he just looped his arms around her waist and held her close, swaying with the music instead as he pressed his forehead to hers.

"Can you feel it, love?" she asked, her eyes slipping shut as her arms snaked around his neck. "There's magic in this music."

He replied with a deep hum. "From that ancient piano."

"Not just that, from him too." Both sets of eyes flicked open to where Jaskier was playing. His usual shit eating grin had been replaced by a serenity that neither knew what to do with. "I doubt he even realizes it."

"Are you telling me Jaskier is a sorcerer?" Geralt asked, the disbelief clear in his voice. He'd been traveling with the bard for years now, if Jaskier was magic, Geralt would have noticed.

"No, he's a bard," she replied with a small laugh. "But I've read about the magic of bards. It's not unsimilar to sorcerers, but the only conduit they have is their art. It's trained into them at that College so subtly most bards never even know they're doing it." Geralt just hummed again, his eyes slipping shut as he enjoyed the sound of the music and the feel of the woman he loved in his arms. It was a wonderful moment… "You need to apologize."

Moment over. "Why?" he snarled.

"You really hurt him earlier, mocking his story like that. Go apologize," she insisted, twining her fingers into his long white hair.

"And if I don't?" he asked, leaning into her hands. He regretted it when her hands pulled sharply on his hair from the roots.

She leaned up and whispered in his ear, "You'll sleep alone tonight."

How is it that after only a few short months together she already knew right where to hit him? He'd grown quite fond of falling asleep with a person on either side of him, so much so that he found it difficult to do so without them. So he swallowed and nodded, turning to see Jaskier finishing up the song to a round of applause from the assembled crowd. There were now many more people here than before, all drawn to the tavern by the music. Before Geralt could pull the bard away, someone in the crowd asked for a jig. Jaskier was more than happy to oblige and, moving father down one side of the piano, started up a jaunty tune.

It was several more hours before Jaskier had finally said enough for one night. It wasn't because he was tired, oh no, he was so thrilled to finally be playing this piano he would have played all night if he could. That was the problem, he couldn't. His shoulders and neck were sore, his back ached, he'd lost feeling in his ring and pinky finger on each hand, and his legs were screaming to be stretched. The moment he stood, Geralt was right there, grabbing his arm and guiding him up to their room for the night. Once inside, the witcher locked the door and started stripping Jaskier of his clothes.

The poor bard was baffled. Rarely did his music entice Geralt to ravishing him. In fact most times his music just got him ignored or yelled at. He couldn't understand this behavior at all. Then Geralt was pushing him towards a fresh, steaming bath and it all made sense. It had taken Jaskier the better part of the first 3 years of their relationship to figure out all of Geralt's languages, especially his apology language. After all the words 'I'm sorry' didn't exist in the witcher's vocabulary, but he made the sentiment clear in other ways.

With a smile, Jaskier lowered himself into the bath and let the warm water relax his aching muscles. HIs eyes slipped shut and he listened to Geratl's movements in the room. They were soft but strong, nothing frivolous in his steps or his motions, everything calculated and measured. It was one of the things he loved most about his witcher. Nothing was wasted, not even bits of energy on extra steps. The only exception was when he started washing Jaskier's hair. He took care to massage the bard's scalp not just to clean it, but to relax it as well. And good thing too, because the poor brunet had been feeling the beginnings of a migraine.

When he was done with his hair, Geralt's hands moved down to massage Jaskier's neck and shoulders. Jaskier actually let out a soft keen as strong hands kneaded away all the pains from the day's labors. He would never know how Geralt got so good at giving massages, but he'd be damned if he didn't love them. Every knot was worked out with the same care and attention until every muscle in his back was so relaxed Jaskier could slip into the tub and lose himself. From his back, Geralt moved down his arms and knelt down first next to his right hand. Jaskier was expecting one of those orgasmic hand massages, the ones that Geralt begrudgingly gave him that those damn fingers fell asleep, but instead he felt an ointment being poured on his palm and a sting of pain went through it. With a hiss he pulled his hand away was inspected it.

Piano wire was sharp, but Jaskier was so used to it that he didn't feel it anymore, nor did he feel when it cut into his hands. Looking at them both now, his poetic mind likened all the slices to his hands being put through a meat mincer. With a gentleness that betrayed the witcher's usual aura, he took the bard's hand again and started to rub the ointment in while also massaging the feeling back into the two numb fingers. Then he took a length of cloth and diligently wrapped up his hand, making sure that every cut and scrape was covered before repeating his task on the left.

Hands and muscles taken care of, Geralt finished rinsing Jaskier's hair, making sure very sud was gone before helping his boyfriend out of the tub and into a thick, warm towel to dry off.

That had been almost all of Geralt's apology languages packed into an hour and a half of pampering. He must have felt really bad about insulting him earlier. So while Geralt mussed the towel through Jaskiers hair, the bard got up on his top toe to place a quick kiss on the witcher's nose.

"I forgive you," he whispered, dipping down to capture those chapped lips in a chaste yet tender kiss. The pressure was returned in an unspoken 'thank you' and Jaskier felt his heart soar. Those first few years had been rough not knowing all these languages, he was glad he was now fluent in them. It made loving this witcher all the easier.

And by the gods did Jaskier love Geralt.

Jaskier tilted his head a bit, moving his lips against Geralt's until they were locked in an intimate kiss that made the bard's heart pound in his ears. How did this emotionally stunted witcher manage to intice such a reaction from him? It was love, plain and simple. It was all the answer Jaskier needed as Geralt's tounge pushed past his lips and joined his in a lazy dance, his hands caressing up and down Jaskier's still damp back. Usually Geralt just devoured him, leaving him a sweaty, panting mess long before they even got into bed. Gods even just thinking about the way Geralt destroyed him between the sheets made his cock stand to attention, yearning for the feeling of being filled to bursting by the witcher. But Geralt kept going slowly, gently, something that Jaskier hadn't really seen out of him before. He let the bard take the lead, Jaskier pressing demanding kisses down his jaw and neck while he stripped the witcher of his shirt. Before his hands could start on the ties of his trousers, Geralt was pushing him towards the bed, urging him to sit as he pulled the towel off and tossed it across the room. Cold air hit Jaskier's skin and he shivered, not realizing his boyfriend had gotten down on his knees before he felt kisses on the inside of his thigh.

Oh. That's what this was. Jaskier belated realized that Geralt hadn't finished his apology when he felt the witcher's lip wrap around the head of his cock. Of course, Geralt was a dominate through and through, more likely to demand a blowjob than give one and Jaskier was a sub happy to oblige. The last words in his apology language was giving up control in bed to his sub. That was only used when he felt particularly awful about something he did, which wasn't often.

Jaskier wondered what Yennefer said to him to make him feel that guitly.

Geralt's mouth wasn't what you would call skilled, but it was hot and strong, and it melted Jaskier into a whimpering mess within minutes. His fingers were knotted into Geralt's hair, guiding him up and down his shaft as a wet tongue pressed against that sensitive vein. He was so enraptured that he hadn't even noticed Geralt had been oiling his fingers until he pushed two inside Jaskier with little resistance. The bard had been trying to stay quiet, well aware of how thin these walls were and how many eyes had been on them when Geralt had pulled him away from the piano, how many people could hear him. But the sudden intrusion made him cry out to the heavens, his fingers tightening in white hair to what he was sure would have been a painful level for a normal human. In response, those fingers inside him curled just right, hitting his sweet spot in exactly the right way. He hadn't even realized he'd been so close until he was coming hard into Geralt's mouth, groaning the witcher's name over and over again until he was completely spent.

When his body stopped shaking, and Geralt let go of his cock with a wet 'pop', Jaskier chanced a look at his lover. Geralt's pupils were blown so wide there was barely any gold left, his hair had been well pulled out of it's tie and stuck up at odd angles, and a little bit of Jaskier's cum dribbled down his cheek. The bard did the only sensible thing and bent down to lick that trail up until his lips were connected to Geralt's again in another lazy kiss.

"My turn," Geralt growled into the kiss.

Jaskier didn't have much time to react before he was being lifted up and thrown onto his back on the bed. Geralt was on top of him in a second, hooking one of his legs over his shoulder and pushed his entire member inside the bard all in one smooth motion. Gods above as much as he liked being taken care of, having Geralt mercilessly pounding into him was what he loved most. The witcher was unrelenting, his large hands gripping thin hips so tightly they left bruises every time. Though that night was especially rough, perhaps Geralt was trying to reassert his dominance in the relationship, but Jaskier didn't mind. All of that strength being directed right at him was driving him wild. He no longer cared how loud he was being, the only people that existed in that moment were him and his witcher. He was clinging to the larger man, blunt nails scraping along Geralt's back while his ankles dug into his ass with every thrust. Jaskier was the vocal one of the group, obviously, but that night even Geralt's lips were loose and moans and grunts flowed from them freely. The bard felt him changing angle so his cock would hit his prostate and Jaskier almost screamed in pleasure. He could feel himself coming undone again and he could tell that Geralt was close as well. So he clamped down as much as he could and he felt Geralt's entire body shudder before he released inside his bard, the two coming together in a litany of swears, moans, and whispered names.

Cuddling wasn't really a thing that Geralt did, but it was absolutely a thing Jaskier did. So when Geralt rolled off him so he wouldn't get crushed, Jaskier rolled with him and snuggled right into the warm, strong side of his witcher lover. Geralt just draped an arm around him and let out a contented sigh. Jaskier twined their legs together, Geralt did nothing to stop him. Jaskier peppered light kisses over his lover's chest, Geralt pet his hair. The affectionate give and take was how they always ended sex, ever since the beginning, and it was nice for Jaskier to know that it continued even with the addition of Yennefer. He was glad Geralt still wanted him after all this time. He was glad that nothing had changed.

"I love you," Jaskier muttered, snuggling in closer as his eyes fluttered shut. He was exhausted, and not just from sex.

"Hmm," came the deep reply, followed by a kiss to the top of Jaskier's head. No need for translation there as Jaskier drifted off into a warm and happy sleep.

AN: Hope you all enjoyed! I'll be back with new chapters soon. I have a lot of ideas and a lot of stuff touched on in this chapter that I want to expand on. Also if anyone wants to volunteer to Beta for me, I would appreciate it a lot. 3