#Hurt Jaskier

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 137

Jaskier and Geralt are imprisoned by some sort of foes of Geralt, Jaskier isn't sure. He and Geralt have been a bit rocky recently, to say the least. Jaskier is really only half-lucid. He's only just begun to hear and see, again. His head hurts quite a bit, and he's pretty sure his hands are chained, but he can't move his eyes down far enough to check. Geralt is chained like werewolves in storybooks, to the point Jaskier thinks it's a tad overkill. Geralt is sitting there, looking lovely as ever. His hair is falling into his face, poor darling.. Jaskier wishes he could tuck the strands behind Geralt's little pointy ears.. His eyes are extra reflective in their current dank housing. It's a wonder nobody kidnaps you to a lovely seaside manor. Jaskier would be much more interested in talking to someone in someplace nicer, perhaps with hor d'oeuvres and wine, but no. Instead he's slumped against stone, and the only lights are some torches and candles. There's a man in rather dull robes talking to Geralt. He's quite loud, Jaskier thinks, but he can't tell if it's his head or if the man really is of such volume. He can't quite make out the words, but he can tell they're beginning to make Geralt angry. He's doing that little 'I'm pissy' mouth quirk of his. Jaskier busies himself with dissociating, until the man talking to Geralt is suddenly the man yelling to Geralt. Very loud. Ouch. Jaskier tunes back into his surroundings, and funnily enough, he can begin to understand what they say now! Hooray! "If you won't speak when you're threatened, butcher, what if your greatest love was, instead?" Not hooray. The man dumps a bunch of colored glass onto the floor, making a horrible noise, but Jaskier can't even focus on why the man would be doing that, he's too busy thinking about the threat. Clearly Geralt's greatest love is... Regrettably, Yennefer. No matter how much Jaskier loves Geralt, he knows Yennefer is first in Geralt's book. Jaskier's thought long and hard about it before. He supposes it makes sense, they're both immortal, she's gorgeous, she's a woman, she's even snippy like Geralt. Sometimes he wonders if he was born a woman if Geralt would've fallen in love with him. Perhaps not. Perhaps he'd still be seen as his annoying little friend. Maybe if he was a meaner woman? Is the woman part the main issue? If he got bitchier would Geralt love him? Maybe he should try it one day. See if he can make Geralt love him. He'll never beat Yennefer, damned witch got a headstart, but he could at least be loved more, right? "Oh~" The man that speaks to Geralt suddenly coos, looking at the floor. And really, why must the man focus so much on Geralt? Jaskier knows he's the witcher, but he's a world famous bard! Why doesn't the man talk to him? He can't help but be a little jealous. Does the man not know who he is? Jaskier very well can't sing for the man, but he does think of doing so. Even for just a second. "What's this?" The man says with a cruel little chuckle, pointing to the ground, and Jaskier finally moves his head enough to see what they're looking at. The glass he threw earlier has magically rearranged itself to make a little portrait of.... Him. Jaskier. The man holds out some sort of amulet next, and if he wasn't gripping onto it, the amulet would've hit Jaskier in the face. Jaskier doesn't quite understand. These all seem like ways to track down Yennefer. He has an amulet that seeks her out, and the glass will provide him with an image of what she looks like. So why do both point to him? Geralt doesn't love him. Surely not as much as Yennefer. "Don't you dare hurt him." Geralt snarls, the first time he's spoken since Jaskier gained consciousness, he believes. Jaskier finds the protectiveness quite sweet. He'll be sure to thank Geralt for it later. It's nice to know that he's cared for. Apparently even loved! Could he truly be Geralt's one true love? His most beloved? His dearest one? He has so much to ask Geralt when he can make his mouth move!

The man begins stalking towards Jaskier and suddenly Jaskier regrets his earlier jealousy over the man not paying attention to him. The man is quite intimidating, and has a look of pure hate in his eyes.

"Will you speak up for me if I cut up your songbird, I wonder, butcher?"

The man whispers, as he looms over Jaskier. Jaskier tries his best to say 'I'm sure we can figure this out if we put all our heads together, no harming necessary' but all that comes out is a pained little groan. Great. Wonderful. Thanks, mouth. That was exactly what he wanted.

The man suddenly draws a sharp twisted blade, and holds it to Jaskier's neck. Jaskier can't see anything but the man's shoulder, but Jaskier can easily hear Geralt struggling in his restraints, growling. He liked when Geralt growled. It was either very cute or very hot, depending on the situation. Jaskier can't decide which one it is right now, however, as there was a knife to his neck.

The man withdraws the dagger from Jaskier's throat, and instead uses it to slice across his chest. Jaskier cries out in pain, and sounds rather pathetic. He'll be sure to write himself more stoic and… with-it when he writes about this experience later on.

There's a loud sound that hurts Jaskier's head, and suddenly the man with the knife is dead on the floor. Geralt stands above him, panting, covered in the man's blood. Gods, he was magnificent.

"H'llo d'r'ling, 'Love y'."

Jaskier manages to croak out, smiling at Geralt, even as his eyelids start to droop. Geralt stares at him for a moment, and that just makes Jaskier smile bigger. He likes seeing Geralt.

"Jaskier, you need to stay awake. Stay awake for me."

He snarls out, and Jaskier pouts a bit. He thinks not. He thinks it's a lovely time for a nap. Geralt will get them out. He's a hero.

[myrkky]

Don't worry, this is only moments before Geralt busts in to kick some ass! And then he nurses Jaskier back to health and everything is fine and nothing hurts 🥲

[oonoturna]

An accident happens…

After a day on the road full of complaints and singing… Geralt pushes the bard, but forgets his witcher strength. He regrets it, of course.

And after much pain and crying, the bard forgives him, of course.

Broken ribs, maybe? You decide.

(FREE TO USE)

[magdelanesingerin]

Throwing Stones

It’s nearly 11 when Jaskier finally comes floating through the front door of their apartment, tipsy and content and already dreaming of slipping into bed with his boyfriend and drifting off to sleep as he kicks off his shoes and slings his jacket to the floor before picking it up and hanging it dutifully from it’s hook. 

“I’m home, love! Sorry, we got a little carried away, ughhh, I think I drank toooooo many mojitos. They’re just so damn good, that place sticks a whole stick of sugar cane in there as a garnish, you know? I fucking love them, makes me feel like a, a goat or a happy chipmunk or something, just chomping on sugar cane, arng arng arng,” he says playfully biting at nothing as he rounds the corner into the kitchen to see Geralt standing over the sink rinsing dishes and loading the dishwasher. He doesn’t turn, and it takes Jaskier a moment to take in the tension along the line of his shoulders. 

“You didn’t need to wait up, Ger. Victoria says hello, by the way!” he says, and sidles up behind his boyfriend to wrap his arms around his waist and bury his face in the man’s broad back. “Alright, love?” he mumbles into the soft weave of Geralt’s t-shirt. Geralt makes a gruff, vague noise and doesn’t relax into his hold. Jaskier continues to cling like a burr as Geralt bends to put the last of the plates in the dishwasher, then straightens with a sigh to flatten his palms on the counter and hang his head. 

“I called you. Texted.”

“Hmm? Ahh, shit, my phone was on silent…ohh look at that, you sure did,” Jaskier says pulling his phone out of his pocket and blinking at the missed messages owlishly. Oops. “I was just across the street, my love, you could hit the bar with a rock from here. I’m sorry I made you worry.”

“It’s fine,” Geralt says shortly, and pulls away to head toward the bathroom. Jaskier frowns, feeling cold and off balance for a moment before he shuffles after Geralt to lean against the wall next to the closed door. 

“I get the feeling that it isn’t fine,” he calls over the sound of running water and the swish of a toothbrush. “Love?” Geralt doesn’t answer, brushing by him on the way to the bedroom. Jaskier huffs in frustration, letting his head fall back into the wall dramatically. The moment feels precarious, wobbling on the edge of a fight. He could let it go, could let Geralt clam up and go to bed and not push it and…who the fuck is he kidding? He can’t do that. 

“Geralt?” he asks expectantly, trailing along behind. 

“It’s fine, Jask, just drop it,” Geralt mutters and climbs into bed. 

Jaskier snorts and jumps onto the mattress spread-eagled with his face right next to Geralt��s. 

“Yeah, no, that’s not happening,” he says to Geralt’s stubborn glower, smoothing his fingers over his boyfriend’s furrowed brow. “You’re upset, and I’m not going to just ignore it.” 

Geralt grimaces and rolls onto his back to stare at the ceiling in silence. Jaskier rests his palm over Geralt’s chest, running the worn fabric between his fingers and humming softly, waiting with as much patience as he can muster and trying to keep his mind from spiraling. The silence stretches on before he feels Geralt’s ribs expand under his hand like a bellows as he finally opens his mouth to speak. 

“It’s stupid.” 

“Alright. Tell me anyway.”

“I…got into my own head. I know you and Victoria used to…it’s… fuck,” he grumbles in obvious frustration, rubbing at his eyes with a hand that trembles slightly. Jaskier sits up on one elbow and looks down at his boyfriend, alarmed. 

“Geralt,” he breathes. “It was just a few drinks. We haven’t seen each other in years, we were just catching up. I would never –”

“I know that. I know,” Geralt growls shortly. “I told you, it’s stupid. I know you wouldn’t cheat, I trust you, I just…”

Jaskier scoffs, shaking his head and trying to ignore the surge of hurt in his chest. It’s nothing he hasn’t heard from his lovers before, of course. The accusation, the judgement, the assumptions, it’s all very familiar. He just never thought he’d hear it from Geralt, and the pain of it makes him angry.

“So, I didn’t answer my phone and you just assumed…fuck, Geralt. You know I’m in this with you. Only you.” His voice is louder than he intends, frustrated and sharp. Fuck, he’s tipsy and he’s fucking this up.

“But it’s not like you never—I know you’ve– fuck , Jaskier, can we just drop it?” Geralt bites out, halting and harsh. 

Jaskier hisses and rolls over to sit on the edge of the bed facing away, fists clenched on the quilt. He tries to bludgeon his brain into coherence as he speaks, jaw clenched and aching.

“Oh, I’m a known slut and slept with married people in my twenties, so obviously I’d go fuck an old friend in a bar bathroom fifty feet away from the apartment I share with my boyfriend, the love of my life, the man that I’ve committed myself to,” Jaskier cries scornfully, then forces himself to take a slow breath, releasing is slowly and counting to center himself before he speaks again. He knows he’s being unfair, but the idea of Geralt doubting him, after all they’ve been through, burns.

“I know she cheated on you, Geralt. I know it hurt you, that infidelity like that really fucks you up,” he says carefully, trying to lower his voice, soften his tone, imagining the neighbors on the other side of their thin apartment walls hearing every word. He’s not sure how successful he is. “I like sex, and I won’t apologize for that. And I haven’t always been particularly thoughtful about who I fuck. I probably should have been, but I don’t regret who I am, who I was. But that was a long time ago, Geralt, and I’m not Yen . Your trust means everything to me and I just… fuck .”

The tears that he finds himself choking on are a surprise. This is not at all how he pictured this night going. He glances back to see Geralt sitting curled up over his knees with his hands buried in his hair, looking miserable. 

“I know . I, I…this is why I didn’t want to say anything. I know it’s fucked up, it’s stupid, that you would never…” There’s a long silence broken only by the sound of Jaskier’s sniffles and Geralt’s wheezing, panicked breaths. 

“You deserve better than this. I don’t know how to be with someone, how to trust again. You’ve given me no reason to doubt you, and–fucking shit. I’ll go, if you want me to,” Geralt says, and he sounds so forlorn, so anguished that Jaskier can’t help but roll back toward him, pulling his hands gently away from where they clutch at his hair and wrapping him up close to his chest as they fall back to the bed in a pathetic huddle. 

“Not a chance,” he murmurs, rubbing soothing circles into Geralt’s back. “I’m keeping you, you ass.”

“Are you sure? I should probably just run off into the woods and be a hermit. I’d be better at that,” Geralt mumbles weakly into his neck, wry and dark.

Jaskier chuckles into Geralt’s hair, a wet and helpless sound.

“God, we’re a mess, aren’t we,” he sighs. 

“Yeah.” 

They lay curled up in each other, breathing and taking comfort in each other’s warmth, muscles slowly relaxing.

“Not nearly as messy as Victoria and her boyfriend, though,” Jaskier smirks eventually, breaking the quiet. “You would not believe the drama, Geralt. Woof. He stole her TV when they broke up. And her couch. And half of her spice cabinet, of all things. He apparently always does this , hardly buys anything for himself. Just…furnishes his whole life with the stuff he takes from his exes, can you imagine?” Geralt snorts. “She said they were moving back in together, but that she’s going to put her name on all her favorite stuff first,” he says, giggling. Geralt’s shoulders shake with repressed laughter, and Jaskier pulls him closer, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Makes me feel extremely well adjusted.” 

“We’re doing great.” 

“We really are,” Jaskier grins and pulls Geralt’s face up to kiss him, long and soft. “Well. We’ve already scandalized the neighbors by shouting at each other. Want to lean into it?” he asks with a suggestive waggle to his eyebrows. Geralt groans and rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling, and the way he rolls over to press Jaskier into the bed suggests that he’s not nearly as reluctant as he pretends. 

The neighbors probably hate them, but who cares. Jaskier has more important things to worry about. 

(also on Ao3)

Thank you to @dapandapod for being my favorite beta who refuses to believe she's good at it! <3 <3 <3

[hannibard]

I'm just a tad obsessed

[geraskierficrecs]

New Anarchy Update!!

At long last, I have a new chapter for you to enjoy.

Here's a teaser:

–variety of relationships in the BDSM community which range from committed, structured dom/sub partnerships to brief scenes.  The most common traits of members of this area of kink is a commitment to explicit consent and structured ideas of acceptable and unacceptable behaviors for each member.  This framework is supported by the use of ‘safe words’ or other systems to indicate whether a scene is good, concerning, or needs to fully stop.  Typically the dominate will– 

Jaskier smiled down at him with glittering eyes, firmly pinning him to the mattress with the sort of casual strength that made something in Geralt squirm with pleasure.  “Are you going to be good for me, pretty?” 

The memory made him flush.  Made him ache in ways that turned whatever lust he might have felt into something dull and unhappy.

Had this been something Jaskier wanted?  Was this something Geralt had wanted?

The sound of his door swinging open made Geralt nearly drop his phone and hurriedly close the article he’d been reading.  He felt a hot blush rise up the back of his neck and forced his face to remain stoic or even annoyed when he looked over at Yennefer.

“By all means,” he said in a droll voice over the sound of his internal panic, “come on in.”

Violet eyes scanned over him with obvious suspicion and lingered on his phone.  “Were you looking at porn?”

“ No .”

“Why are you so guilty looking?”  The mage looked far too smug about the idea and Geral had the terrifying thought that all of Aretuza’s members were more than comfortable discussing sex with one another.  If he wasn't careful, he might find himself trapped in a conversation with her.

[irrlicht-writes]

the greatest gift

“I’ll stay behind; I have to tune my lute.”

Yennefer wasn’t sure if that man truly meant his lute, or his lute. He did have to perform this evening at the inn they were staying at, so maybe he really meant his instrument. Such a shame. She would have liked it if he had accompanied them, he was fun to gossip with at the vendor stalls. Neither Geralt nor Ciri truly had that required fashion sense.

“Geralt, is this my colour?”

The Witcher just hummed without really looking. Yennefer sighed.

“I think you’d look lovely in it, Yenna.”

Yennefer smiled at Ciri; bless her for trying.

“Thank you, duckling,” she responded and put the cloth back.

She itched for Jaskier’s company, but she could never let him know, his head would explode.

“It’s sad that Jaskier didn’t come with us,” Ciri said and Yennefer agreed. “You think it’s because of what that woman said? She was so rude, I wanted to smash her stupid crystal ball.”

Yennefer nodded again.

They had come to this village originally because they had heard rumours that there was a wise woman here that could tell them more about the Wild Hunt. They had indeed found this wise woman, but when they had entered her hut, she had pointed at Jaskier immediately and screeched: “He does not belong; destiny has no place for him!”

It spoke of years of self-restraint that none of them burned her hut down right that second.

Later, Jaskier had played it off, his usual laugh, but Yennefer knew it had stung. In their party, Jaskier was constantly wondering why he was here, and if he had a place among them, when in truth; without him, none of them would be here.

He brought her and Geralt together, and he brought Geralt and Ciri together. Without Jaskier, would Geralt even be able to properly care about Ciri? Would she?

She picked up a little wooden toy, a small duck, and turned it in her fingers. Jaskier would gush about it and insist she buy it for Ciri.

“You call her duckling all the time, Yennefer!”

“Perhaps I should buy it for you, the ugly duck of our group?”

“How dare you! I am the most magnificent swan this world has ever seen! But how would a water hag know beauty when it flew past her, true?”

She grumbled and put the toy away. The bardling could never know that she was able to envision entire conversations in her head.

Jaskier was nobody special, no magic, no fighter, no nothing. All he had was that lute of his and that notebook he took everywhere.

He was the stupidest man she’s ever met.

She’s rarely known a braver man.

“Magic could never be done with the likes of you, Yennefer of Vengerberg.”

He had not been aware of it then, and was not aware of it now, but in that time, he was the only one to believe in her. Because he had that unshaken faith, she could borrow it from him. She could believe in herself that she was still worth something, because he did.

Ever since then, Jaskier had become... important, to her.

He would never know, not with words, not like that, but it was Jaskier. He knew. He knew, but maybe he didn’t truly believe it.

“FIRE!”

All three of them lifted their heads.

“No,” whispered Geralt and started running.

“Jaskier!” shouted Ciri and ran after him.

“Julian,” Yennefer whispered and she took running.

The smoke was coming from the inn.

Geralt, Ciri and Yennefer came to a screeching halt in front of the inn. Jaskier wasn’t here. He couldn’t be inside still, could he? No, he couldn’t. Not in the fire, Jaskier was scared. He wouldn’t have stayed.

Yennefer’s heart was beating too fast, she couldn’t think. A portal. Yes, a portal. No. No she couldn’t do a portal. It was too dangerous in the fire.

“Where is he? Where is the bard?”

A shaking woman was answering, her voice waiving: “H-he’s still inside! He – he told us to get out, I didn’t look, oh gods.”

“I’m going inside.”

One look at Geralt and she knew he wouldn’t take no as an answer. So she just nodded. “Hurry,” she said and he took off.

“We should go too,” Ciri said and Yennefer shook her head.

“No. The smoke is too dangerous, Geralt will be faster than the two of us.”

“But –“ Ciri started to protest, and Yennefer pulled her into a hug. If the girl noticed her faint trembling, she didn’t say. Jaskier would never let her live it down. Instead, Ciri hugged her tighter.

“He’ll be okay,” she whispered and by gods, Yennefer wanted the girl’s words to be true. If not – If Jaskier was beyond saving – she –

No.

No, she wouldn’t think about that.

Jaskier was going to be fine.

He’d make a joke about having to live up to his damsel in distress status.

When Geralt stormed out of the fire, Yennefer would later tell Jaskier that there was a big explosion of fire behind them. In truth, there was just more smoke and Yennefer had no eyes for it. In his arms, Geralt was carrying an unconscious Jaskier, with his head lolling. Geralt didn’t stop running, he jogged over to a place without smoke.

Yennefer’s stomach dropped and she hurried after them, leaning over Jaskier as Geralt put him onto the ground.

“Julek,” she whispered into his face, begging him to wake. “Julek.”

“He’s not breathing, Yen, he’s not –“

He was right. Jaskier wasn’t breathing. Yennefer could barely breathe herself.

She closed her eyes and kissed his forehead, on all the soot from the smoke and the fire. “I’m not losing you, Julek, I’m not.”

She pressed her lips on his, breathing into his mouth. Her hand searched for his chest, feeling his heart beat. Yennefer swatted Geralt’s hands away, as he wanted to start pumping.

“It’s beating,” she said between breaths.

She kept breathing for the bard, and determined that he could never know. Jaskier could never know that she almost lost it today.

Ciri was next to her, talking to Jaskier softly: “You gotta wake up, Dandelion. You promised me you’d show me how to play the lute, remember? And you were writing a song we could sing together! We wanted to surprise Geralt and Yenna with it, remember? So you gotta wake up, please.”

Yennefer’s heart broke for the tone of Ciri. It was so easy to forget that she was still just a child.

As if hearing the girl, Jaskier started coughing heavily, and Yennefer helped him into a sitting position. The bard was coughing out a lot of phlegm ad the sorceress gently rubbed his back.

“Julek,” she whispered so softly nobody heard her.

“Jaskier!”

Still coughing, the bard looked up, completely and utterly confused.

“Ge-Geralt? What?”

His voice was hoarse, and she only now noticed that most of his beard got singed. He was shaking, and looking around himself.

“Wha-what happened? I, I.”

He sounded close to tears, and his breathing got worse.

“Shh, little bard,” Yennefer cooed, “it’s all good now. You’re safe, you’re safe. We’re all safe, you stupid, stupid man, we’re all safe.”

He leaned against her and sagged, and Yennefer gently brushed through his hair. There was ash in his hair, and she knew this wouldn’t be shaken off so easily.

But he was alive.

He was alive.

As Geralt and Ciri took each of Jaskier’s hand, she pressed a kiss on his head.

“Julek,” she whispered and closed her eyes.

Right here, between them all, right where he always ought to be, his shaky puffs of breath on her collarbone were the greatest gift she could ask for.

[astaldis]

@juneofdoom

Prompt: 6 "Flinch"

Chapters: 1/1    Words: 150 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Maria Barring | Milva & Jaskier | Dandelion Additional Tags: June of Doom 2024, Flinch, Friendship, bad memories, Drabble and a Half, The Hansa | Geralt's Company (The Witcher), Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia

Summary: "Ouch!" he exclaims, flinching back from her ...

[blooms-in-april]

I’m just a bard.” Jaskier says. “What do I know, about destiny and fate? But I know, out of all the great things you were destined to do in your life, you were equally fated to do this one small thing that you would not even notice.”

His voice breaks.

“Geralt of Rivia, you were born to break my heart.”

[beth--b]

Sacrifice

Jaskier, Ciri and Geralt had been travelling for weeks with minimal interactions with people or towns.

Although it was necessary for all their safety, Jaskier was dying for the chance to visit a marketplace and buy some of the many things they were low on, or out of completely. They were low on coin as well and while Geralt was quite noticeable with his white hair, Jaskier the bard was also a well known name.

After days of arguments on the topic they finally decided that Geralt would take the next contract he could find, while Jaskier and Ciri bought supplies.

It would be easier for Geralt to approach the alderman alone, and would draw less attention than a performance from a renowned bard.

The two days it took to reach a town after they finally made their decision were two of the longest Jaskier had ever experienced, or at least that's how it felt.

Finally the day came that they reached the town. It wasn't a big city by any means but it was large enough that there was a market square bustling with life.

They parted ways before they came too close to town, Geralt approaching before them and heading for the notice board while Jaskier and Ciri, hoods up, followed at a more leisurely pace.

The Witcher made eye contact with the bard across the square and gave an almost imperceptible nod, then after partially tearing a piece of parchment from the board he strode off.

Read it here on ao3

Jaskier was sure to wait a few minutes before making a pass by the notice board himself. He briefly glanced at the torn parchment noting the contract Geralt had taken was for drowners. A quick simple job usually, not the greatest for coin but it would be done in an afternoon and would get them through as long as Jaskier spent what they currently had wisely.

"Will he be long?" Ciri asked, breaking Jaskier out of his musings.

"Hmm? Oh, no I'd say not. Simple contract shouldn't take long at all really. While he's gone we need to replenish our supplies," he looped their arms together and began to lead Ciri around the small market, explaining what they needed as they walked so she could help keep an eye out for the items they were after.

They spent the afternoon browsing the market, picking up a few essentials, some fruits and vegetables, some bread, a few herbs and some ink among other things. Ciri looked longingly at the sweets on offer and Jaskier figured with the coin Geralt would be adding to their shared purse later in the day he could splurge a little and let Ciri pick out something sweet from the baker.

The girl had just finished licking her sticky fingers clean when a group of soldiers came wandering out of the nearby tavern.

“Fuck,” Jaskier cursed as he pulled Ciri’s hood more firmly over her pale hair. He couldn’t be sure from this distance but he was fairly confident that the insignia they wore was that of Nilfgaard.

Ciri gave a questioning look, following his gaze before her own eyes widened in surprise.

“Jaskier, what do we do?” she asked quietly, looking around the market like Geralt would magically reappear just because she wished it.

“We lay low and make our way out of town. Geralt will come find us once the contract is done if he sees that we’ve left. Don’t worry dear we have contingency plans for this very thing.”

Plan in place the pair slowly resumed walking around the market, this time keeping their heads down a little more, while they were slowly making their way towards the road back out of town.

Jaskier kept an eye on the soldiers, while also looking out for Geralt. He hoped the Witcher would show up, but at the same time he knew Geralt would be easily spotted with his well known white hair.

After enough time had passed so as to not seem suspicious, he was almost certain they were home free as they began to walk out of the market and back towards the main road.

They would make their way down the road to where they parted earlier and head into the woods a little.

Everything was going fine until a young child, maybe ten years old or so, came barrelling down a side street and crashed into the pair, sending both Jaskier and Ciri sprawling.

The commotion drew the attention of a number of locals, as well as the very much unwanted attention of the soldiers, who by that stage had been making their own way across the marketplace, likely gathering their own supplies for the road.

Ciri’s hood came off as she fell and the flash of ash blonde hair was enough to draw the interest of the soldiers.

The small band of men began to stride purposefully towards them, their voices growing louder and one of them beginning to point.

“Shit. Ciri, you need to run. Don’t stop, don’t look back. Just run fast as you can and find Geralt. He’ll keep you safe,” Jaskier whispered hurriedly, eyeing the men who were drawing ever nearer.

Ciri looked ready to protest, but after only a moment she looked away and nodded, taking off at a run down the street.

As Ciri ran the soldiers began to run as well, shouting now and calling for her to halt and to declare herself.

Jaskier put himself between Ciri and the soldiers. He knew there was a good chance he wouldn’t make it out but he would buy her whatever time he could. He pulled his dagger from boot, knowing it would be no good against a sword, and faced the Nilfaardians who would threaten a child.

“Gentlemen, what can I do for you?” Jaskier called, dagger held low but ready.

“State your name and get that girl back here,” the first to arrive stated, he was shorter than Jaskier but a little older and had a scar across his cheek. He had a hand on the hilt of a sword sheathed at his waist.

“Ah good sir, my name is Julian. That was my daughter, you merely startled her-” Jaskier was cut off by the sword aimed for his throat by another of the soldiers, this one a younger man, dark hair obscuring part of his face. What Jaskier could see looked cold and cruel and he gulped, staring at the sword.

“Don’t fucking lie to us you piece of shit, where’s the girl gone to? Tell us and we’ll make your death a quick one.”

Jaskier plastered a fake smile on his face, and got ready to move out of the way if the soldier tried to take his head off.

“Now, now good sir, there’s no need to threaten violence. If you’ll wait right here I’ll go retrieve her for you,” he said, backing away a step, trying to get some distance between himself and the blade.

“I don’t think so,” the first soldier sneered, drawing his own weapon and closing the distance between them.

Jaskier knew he couldn’t fight a sword with a dagger. However, he also knew how to fight dirty. One doesn’t survive long as a travelling bard without picking up a few tricks.

As the soldier began to thrust his blade towards Jaskier, the bard ducked and rolled beneath the blade, using the momentum to get back up again and twisted so he was behind the man, using his dagger to cut deeply into the man’s sword arm. The soldier yelled at the unexpected pain and dropped his sword.

Dropping to the ground once more Jaskier grabbed the fallen weapon. He hated swords, but Geralt had taught him the basics and he intended to use anything at his disposal to keep these bastards away from Ciri as long as possible.

Jaskier wasn’t sure how long he held out before one of them got a good hit in. He had suffered deep laceration to his left arm, the injury causing him to falter and allowing another of the men to get close enough to hit him in the head with the pommel of their sword.

Disoriented, he dropped to the ground and rough hands grabbed him before dragging him away from the road and back to the inn.

Jaskier was vaguely aware of the soldiers shouting at the patrons to get out or suffer the same fate as him.

Suffice to say that the inn was empty within a matter of moments, the barmaid throwing him a pained look as though she wished she could help him on her way out the door.

“Now you can be a good lad and tell us what we want to know and we can end this nice and quick, or you can spend the next few days here with us and we will get it out of you anyway. This’ll be my last offer,” the man speaking to him seemed to be the leader. The others waited to the side while this one grabbed Jaskier by the hair and held his face up to look him in the eye.

Jaskier’s head was throbbing and he felt like he would pass out if not for the insistent pain of his hair being pulled and the man practically spitting his face.

“I told you, my daughter was just startled. She’s probably already come back looking for me-” a fist crunched into his cheek bone and Jaskier stifled a sob. He really wasn’t cut out for this whole torture thing.

It went on in this manner until it was dark. The soldiers kept asking him questions, Jaskier dancing around the truth and refusing to tell them anything of real substance.

He was fairly sure that he passed out at one stage.

Even Nilfgaardian soldiers were only human though, and after what felt like days, but was probably only hours, all but one of the small group headed off to sleep.

The one on guard duty simply tied him to the chair he was sat upon and went to keep a look out.

Jaskier hoped that Ciri had found Geralt. He hoped that they were far away. He hoped they would rescue him. Some of these things were rather contradictory but he was a bard, not a hardened soldier or mercenary. He didn’t want to die here being tortured, though he would if it would only save Ciri.

The night passed slowly, the men swapping out guard duty every two hours so they all got sleep.

Jaskier drifted in and out of consciousness and waited for the dawn to come, mentally preparing himself for another day of being beaten and tortured.

An hour or so before dawn one of his wishes came true when Geralt silently climbed through a back window of the inn when the guard was nodding off.

The soldier startled awake when he saw the intruder but was quickly silenced when Geralt ran him through with his steel sword.

Geralt made quick work of cutting the ropes keeping Jaskier bound, and slung the bard’s less injured arm around his own broad shoulders.

“Geralt, you need to get Ciri out of here. Just leave me, I’ll slow you down,” Jaskier insisted as Geralt half carried him out of the inn and into the darkness of the sleeping town beyond.

“Shut up Jask, Ciri is fine. I'm not leaving you behind," Geralt said firmly, as he continued to lead the bard through the town.

Realising how serious Geralt was Jaskier opted to keep his mouth shut and focus on trying to walk.

By the time they were out of the town and in the forest to the side of the road Jaskier's injuries and exhaustion were catching up to him. More than once Geralt had to catch him as he stumbled.

After the third instance Geralt just closed the space between them and pulled Jaskier to a halt.

"Come on, let me help you," he motioned Jaskier closer before bending as he wrapped one arm around the bard's lower back, the other beneath his knees as he deftly lifted the younger man into his arms.

Too tired to fight it, Jaskier just let himself be carried back to wherever Geralt had left Ciri squirrelled away in wait for their return.

“I’d never leave you behind Jask. You know that. Rest now and we’ll be back at camp soon,” Geralt murmured.

Feeling warm at Geralt’s words despite the situation he did just that. Letting himself drift and trying to focus on anything other than the pain he was in while Geralt carried him back to the most important thing in either of their lives.

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 82

You may be asking yourself after a night with no prompts, @geraskierfanficprompts, did you die? And the answer is, no, I only half-died (as in slept. For like 16 hours. I do not think I am well.) BUT ANYWHO LETS GOOOO Geralt is captured by Nilfgard, or whatever VOTW you want, it's up to whoever writes it, as always my dears, but without changes to the prompt, it would make most sense post-mountain Nilfgaard <3 Geralt knows Yennefer is expecting him back sooner, and because he didn't make it back in time, he knows damn well that Yennefer is currently tracking him down and will get him out. He just has to endure. He just has to wait it out. No matter what they say or do to Geralt however, he's not budging on any information. They remark that they have a way to get him to talk. Doesn't matter what they do. He just has to endure. He just has to wait it out. But then they shove in another person in chains, and when the person looks up, Geralt feels his heart drop to his stomach. "Jaskier.." "..Geralt." His hair is longer, and he's grown some stubble. He holds himself with much less confidence, and his eyes look weary and tired. They force Jaskier into a chair in front of Geralt, and Geralt can't even think of the implications he's so happy to see his bard, alive and well. ... Well-ish, he supposes. "Feel like sharing anything now, Witcher?" One asks, and Geralt suddenly comes back to reality, realizing their plan. Before he can even say anything, Jaskier laughs. A full-bellied, proper cackle, even throwing his head back for a moment. "As if! You truly made asses of yourselves! Geralt couldn't care less about me!" They grip Jaskier's hair and tug his head back. "Shut up, before we do it for you." "If you kill me, You'll only be doing both Geralt and me a favor." Jaskier says with a smile, and the man growls and sinks a knife into Jaskier's shoulder. "He's bluffing!" the man yells. Jaskier lets out a horrible little pained gasp at the knife, and his head falls forward as he starts to tear up. "I don't care if there's nothing of the bard left when you finish, as long as you get the butcher fucking talking!" Geralt is panicking. Not that anyone could tell. The rules were to endure. To wait. Yennefer can get him out. But sweet, poor, innocent Jaskier is about to be brutalized the more Geralt doesn't say. Even if he could endure, if he could wait, knowing deep down if he does nothing that it's safer for them, that they'll be saved, he knows he won't be able to. Because it's his Jaskier. He finally found him again, and his bard truly, genuinely believes Geralt would feel nothing but joy upon the minstrel's death. Geralt needs to get his bard out NOW, and he needs to make it all okay again. He needs to tell his Bard everything, he needs to apologize, he needs to kiss him, he needs to smell him happy and content again, he needs- The man stabs a knife into Jaskier's arm, making Jaskier shriek in agony. He needs to kill some people.

[process-pending]

“You’re here with us, Jask. You’re safe.” Jaskier nods, he wants to reassure Geralt that he knows but his body is still shaky with panic, memories dragged kicking into the light still screaming.

To the Night We Met (Chapter 5)

[oonoturna]

Art inspired by the wonderful fanfic Behind Blue Eyes. It's inspired by a scene from the fanfic. It's full of angst, intense feelings, hurt Jaskier... wonderful. I'm loving every word!

[blooms-in-april]

He's so defensive of his friend I'm CRYING. 😭 Netflix Geralt could NEVER.

[geraskierficrecs]

The Rake and His Husband Update!

New chapter here.

Teaser:

“Nothing happened,” he tries to demur, “It wasn’t like he remembered me. “

“Hard to forget your absolutely massive crush on him.”

Jaskier rolls his eyes. “It wasn’t that big.”

“You wrote a ballad, Jaskier.”

“I was young.”

“You were in love.”

It takes effort to turn his mind away from childish memories of the quiet he’d spent a dreamy summer with. He’d been young and already struggling to find his place among his peers. Geralt had not minded listening to Jaskier’s dramatic tales or hearing him recite whatever new poem had caught his eye. In return, Geralt had shown Jaskier how to climb trees and uncover hidden paths of deer in the woods. 

He hadn’t realized it would be the last summer he’d see Geralt. They’d parted ways with promises of future adventures and letters to be sent. 

Those rose tinted hopes had disappeared when Jaskier’s mother had died. 

Then Geralt had disappeared to his new school. 

Then Jaskier’s father had begun to drink. 

Then he’d—

“Jaskier?” Yenn’s voice is soft and he flinches away from thoughts of the past. 

He pastes on a smile and ignores the question in her eyes. Better not to dwell in the past. “We just talked about pleasantries—nothing important. He was just avoiding the vultures inside trying to pawn off their daughters.”

He doesn’t dwell on the impossible dreams he’d once had of marriage or a spouse that cared for him.  Those days are long behind him.

[fandom-happy]

Sicktember 2023 - Day 7: "You're a jerk when you're sick"

Summary: Geralt is sick and taking it out on Jaskier which is completely and utterly unfair. He’s just trying to help the ungrateful brute.