a promise || jaskier x reader

Hangover Cures

Groggy. The only word I'd uttered all day was Groggy. Niamh had asked me if I was alright. I think the only other word would be sober-hungover. 

Much to my pleasure, she'd pretty much left me to my own devices after that, and my first instinct was to make up a bath for myself. It usually was. I fetched 3 buckets of water, in their respective trips due to my rather weak figure, each one filling up the wooden tub. I stepped into it first, still with my dress on, and it caught up to my knees, wetting the skin on my calves. My dress was soon hauled over my head, lazily strewn over the top edge of the large wooden divider that separated my vulnerable form from both the door and my bed. This was one of the better inns in Novigrad, as the letters I delivered to Blaviken were quite important it seemed, and I gained a lovely bit of dosh. My fingers pulled at the edges of the ribbons I had tied the ends of my plaits with, and the loose braids of blonde fell apart. My hair was dirty from camping out during the two-day trip, and it felt amazing to sink my pale anatomy deep into the steaming water that was brimmed with fragrant bubbles.

There it was. That voice again. I should've assumed I'd hear the blasted man soon enough - I had a couple days of peace, and he was here again to rain on my parade - seeing as though I was back in Novigrad. Jaskier's vocals echoed up the stairs he traversed, and I could hear him shuffling past neighbouring rooms, knocking on their doors along to the beat of the music. I giggled, albeit out of more secondhand embarrassment than being humourous. I sloshed the water that was about my arms as I brought the strawberry-scented bubbles up in my hands and ran them through my hair, perfuming my whole body through them. I smiled, to myself, and stood up again, soft wet slaps coming from behind the divider as my soaked feet patted onto the hard wood floor. I slung the large black robe over my wet hair, the ends dripping strawberry-scented water down the back of the shirt. This piece of clothing was Geralt's, actually. It didn't smell like him anymore, thank the Gods for that, but I was never so attached I'd want it to. I put on some simple black underwear, and his dark undertunic fell somewhat below the joining of my thighs, but before the knees. My hair was now damp as I heaved it over to my right shoulder, taking the large brush and combing through it. I sighed, happy with the small amount of happiness I could finally have on my own. Then there was a rapping at my door. 

"Vespulaaaaah.." A man's voice drunkenly slurred from the other side of it, and his fist harshly hit the plain oak panels that decorated the outside. Who the fuck is Vespula? I hesitated even looking to the door, but the knocking and calling didn't stop and I was somehow expecting it to. 'O ye of little faith', I could hear Triss sarcastically noting in the back of my head. I made my way to the entrance, and my hand clasped the handle. As I tugged it down, hoping this confrontation wouldn't get me hit, my eyes widened in shock. He was leaned against the door, and for some reason it was inwards-opening. A man who seemed small yet loomed over me fell into my arms and I groaned from the struggle, holding him up from his underarms. I inhaled sharply and tugged him out of the way, yanking him from the door area and flopping him onto my couch. He had a pirate-like hat atop a mess of mid-length brunette hair, and his blue eyes flitted up and down, around and about my lodgings before closing completely. Watching him with concern, my tiredness set in and I was tempted to go straight to my warm, comfortable bed. Fuck. 

It wasn't that I didn't trust him, well it was. I didn't want to be in any state of unconsciousness with a stranger who randomly stumbled across my room. And I certainly wasn't about to go looking for this Vespula mystery character to ease my burden. He'd been quiet for a while too long and that pulled me from my thoughts, and a soft snoring came from his softly parted lips. The door was now locked, as I didn't know who or what could be after him. Tucking the key in my inside pocket, I took a seat on the table with two chairs that was directly opposite the couch. My head nested in my folded arms with my eyes trained on the sleeping bloke still, but soon enough the sleep overcame me and I gave myself a chance to rest. On a gangly table and chairs trio, with a strange man across from me, slumped on my settee.