#Jaskier x priscilla

[fangirlsfavoritebardboy]

Officially Finished "Welly Boots"!

Fanfiction Title: Welly Boots

Fandoms: The Witcher (Netflix)/The Witcher III: Wild Hunt

Chapters: 4

Words: 23,918

Rating: T

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death

Pairings: Jaskier/Priscilla, Geralt/Yennfer

Summary: Jaskier, Ciri, Yennefer, and the Witchers are bored in Kaer Morhen when one of them asks Jaskier to tell them a tale. He spins a story of love and tragedy, featuring a young run-away viscount named Julian and the love of his life Priscilla. The others are none the wiser.

Features Jaskier attending Oxenfurt, befriending Essi, hating Valdo, and courting Priscilla.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45894919

[headcanonthings]

Priscilla: You’re telling me, a deadly supernatural predator who wouldn’t hesitate to kill, threatened you, and you... Jaskier: I married him!

[ghostlylicious]

late valentines sketch for my favorite bards! (specifically 'my' bc i designed them w my own headcannons 😭🥰)

oh dont mind the curtain im too lazy to draw the actual pattern hsjfbsn

[thedemonofcat]

Imagine if, in the Witcher Netflix series, there was an opportunity to include Priscilla or Essi Daven, even if it were just for a single episode. One actress who would be perfect for the role is Madeleine Hyland. You may recognize her as a member of Joey Batey's band, The Amazing Devil.

Can you picture a scene where these two characters perform a duet? It would undoubtedly be a marvelous sight to behold

[annmarcus63]

I've always love the idea of game Geralt x series Jaskier.

Here's an idea. While training, Ciri's powers went out of control sending Game!Geralt to the Series!The witcher universe. Game Geralt meets Jaskier and Geralt. The pair agree to help him get to Kaer Morhen, since when Ciri comes looking for him, she would look there first.  Here's a soulmate story, a thread with two ends. Geralt doesn't want him, but someone else might.

"Are there ....soulmates...in your world?" They are sitting in front of a small bonfire where a boar leg is getting cooked. The sunset shimmer has blue and purple shades that rain on them. The Geralt from another universe (Jaskier calls him BeardGeralt and BeardGeralt likes it cause it sounds like bear, like a...pet name) tilts his head towards him, showing he has his entire attention.

"I don’t think so."

“Oh” BeardGeralt smiles, his handsome face lighting with barely concealed fondness that shows every time they talk in private. His Geralt, the real Geralt, is currently brushing off Roach trying to appear as if he's not listening to their conversation. "Disappointed, are you?" Jaskier snorts.

"No really. Actually I'm relieved my counterpart doesn't have one, it wouldn't be fair, to me I mean."

"Then you'll be glad to know he's goddamn miserable. Couldn't catch a single fly." Jaskier's face lights up like a child on their name day. "Egotistical and malicious. You share those with Dandelion" adds BeardGeralt without a trace of judgment or anger, only amusement.

"But more handsome" says Jaskier with a wink, BeardGeralt gives him an appreciative look, a slight smile hidden under his beard. Jaskier has been feeling this tension between them. Not entirely sexual per se but more, something mysterious that's calling them. He has always flirt with his Geralt but he has never responded, has never been interested, but It's not the same with BeardGeralt and it feels nice, to be wanted for once, for more than a quick fuck. He must also admit that it is nice to hold the interest of one Geralt, even if it's not his, his soulmate. It shows him in a way that destiny wasn't wrong with them, that Jaskier could have been wanted by his soulmate, at least in another universe. That they could have been happy together. 

"He's happy. He's with Priscilla" BeardGeralt says calmly, looking at the fire briefly. Jaskier tries to remember if he has known a Priscilla, he hasn't.

“Bastard” Jaskier throws his arms in the air in melodramatic surrender. He's not upset, not really, he's glad his duplicate from this other universe in which soulmates don’t exist is happy, but that doesn't make him any less of a lucky bastard. After all his biggest competition has always been himself, this Dandelion is him, so, yeah it feels like a competition. One that Jaskier is losing. 

Jaskier is so immersed in his own reasoning that he gets caught up when BeardGeralt asks in a cautious voice "Where's yours?"

"My what?"

“Soulmate” And that's the thing, isn't it? He has a soulmate and a mark on his forearm to prove it and that soulmate is, in fact, a few meters from them tending to his horse.

There must be something in his expression, a dull compliance that has woven, somehow, on his heart (and people says the eyes are the windows of the heart), because the other Geralt dawns on the fact that Geralt from this world is Jaskier's soulmate. 

And suddenly his Geralt is there, in front of them whelling the leg above the fire "It's burning" he growls looking up and meeting BeardGeralt’s eyes. Cat-like eyes, they both have beautiful eyes, they're the same and so unique at the same time, apart from each other. His Geralt is younger, he has a soul of one who still hasn't found how to live with pain and self-hatred. BeardGeralt is older, the kind of good wine older, he has a soul of one who has learned to live with all of it, he’s wiser and is full of quiet regret.

The witchers are speaking with their eyes, two predators speaking the same language. They stop the staring contest after a few seconds. The other Geralt doesn't ask again and Jaskier is relieved. Later, when the moon is glowing in the sky and they're trying to sleep, Jaskier thinks of how warm BeardGeralt feels next to him, it's cold so they're sleeping close to each other and wonders what it would be to be loved by him.

I'm posting this here again with small changes

If you want to read more let me know

love u

[vargassdottir]

Fingers on Ivory | Jaskier x Priscilla One-Shot

Inspired by the following picture by the incredible @marietta-kerdzevadze (see her Instagram >here< for more of her amazing work!). Thank you so much for giving me permission to write a piece based on your stunning art!

Warnings: Witcher 3 spoilers! Mentions of violence, PTSD, depression, angst. But don’t worry, there’ll be plenty of fluff too!

Tiny patters on the window panes, and glimmers of sunshine just barely peeking through the clouds. It was those days that Priscilla dreaded most. Once upon a time she could have stared out the glass, hearing the thrum of the cabaret below, and compose some heart-wrenching rendition to woo the crowds in a few nights time. But ever since..

Ever since..

Sigh.

Ever since that night, the rain on the windows sounded like claws. The sun felt taunting, a glaring reminder of the bright eyes that watched her squeal and cry. The beats and cheers from below felt like her screams that could never quite leave her throat during that ordeal.. Nor would again, not in the same way.

Even her beloved, who patiently sat with her day after day, never pushing, always kind and smiling, or offering up tale after tale of his adventures with Geralt, Yennefer, Ciri, or even Regis and Annarietta (though the latter remained somewhat a sore subject), could not seem to break her from her state of ever gazing. The fear crinkling up in the corner of her eyes with every sleepless night and restless nightmares.

In the end, of all people, it was Zoltan who offered Jaskier the icebreaker.

“The lass needs to feel whole again, dun’nae take it personal. She misses her music.”

It was like a jolt of lightning coursed through him then. Of course! His darling Priscilla, prized for her voice of wonder and alluring tales, the great Calonetta.. Her voice dry, cracked and stolen.. She needed to find her muse again!

Not the lute, no, that was personal to she and he, the strums of chords mixed with notes of lyrics, it would remind her too much of what she was still seeking to recover. No, something new, to her and not to him.

Two nights later, and after a series of frustrated groans, huffs, and enough curses in Elder to make an elf blush, Jaskier’s triumph was echoed with a definitive: “Aha!”

Not ten minutes later did Priscilla wander in, her once bouncy and well styled locks hanging limply around her head, like sodden straw. Timid, dark circles eyes widening with curiousity, a light not seen since that night..

The piano, his victory, Jaskier sat at the overly large stool, and a second cushion beside him, just for her. It took a moment, that felt like a lifetime, before he felt the bench shift and the heat of her body reach out from beside him, tickling his bare forearms like a warm breeze. He took two, three deep breaths, barely daring to look at her, else he might tempt fate. But she didn’t move. Not a muscle.

Gently smiling, he rolled down his sleeves and pressed his fingertips on the ivory keys, playing a simple but cheerful tune, one note at a time. Over and over he played, tap tap tap.. Pling pling pling. They sat there for almost an hour, her azure eyes patiently watching the pattern, her muttered breaths just about reaching his ears as she counted the rhythm out. For the first time in weeks, he began to see that shine come back to her, ever so slightly.

Just as he thought to call it enough for the night, he rose up, and as he turned to the door, he heard it.

Pling. Pling. Pling.

Spinning on his heels, midnight gaze wide with wonder, he saw his Cilla. Not the shadow of herself as she had been, but the woman he fell in love with oh so long ago. Gently padding towards her, as she bit at her lower lip and tried to recall the notes in the correct order, he gently placed his hands over hers, guiding her ever so lightly to the right keys. Soft pressure atop her fingers with his own, his breath in her ear as he hummed the tune out as they played.

Even as she began to grasp the tune, he kept his hands atop hers, fighting the urge to intertwine their fingers. And with her mind fixed on her craft, as it would be on those usual rainy days, once upon a time, she felt the brush of a chaste kiss on the crown of her head, causing to her to release a breath she didn’t know she had been holding.

She couldn’t bring herself to smile, not just yet.. But the unspoken love was there, in that moment, they knew.

And, for the first time in weeks, Priscilla slept soundly that night, tightly wrapped in Jaskier’s embrace.

[underpreparedbard]

I finally made a masterlist and my requests are currently OPEN! 

Send me your prompts for Witcher shenanigans✨

[jaskierswolf]

For the prompts: Jaskier/Priscilla + Scars?

This is very much hurt/very little comfort. A mash up on TW3 plot and TWN Jaskier.

_

The goblet in Jaskier’s hand shook as silent tears fell down his face. Out of all the people in Novigrad it had to be Priscilla that had been attacked, his beautiful, shining calonetta. It wasn’t fair. It should have been him lying on the bed in the hospital room, his throat damaged and unable to speak. Priscilla would hold his hand and tell him stories to pass the time and his love would be happy and unharmed.

After all it wasn’t as if he was a stranger to pain. On his temple, hidden behind his hair was a scar from where an arrow had narrowly missed his head. Regis had looked after it well but the scar remained. Then there were his fingers, burned by Rience so many years ago. The tips of his fingers were still numb, a fact that had eventually helped his lute playing as the strings cut into the skin.

The wound on Priscilla’s throat would be no aid. Gone was her nightingale soprano and who knew if it would ever return. Yennefer was doing her best to help but Jaskier still worried. Without music and performance, he wasn’t sure what would come of their relationship. Their love and their art was so intricately weaved together that Jaskier couldn’t tell which was which.

Regardless, it should have been him. He could take it. Years travelling with his witcher and young Ciri had prepared Jaskier for anything, but not this, not losing her. Yes she would live, the healers had done a bloody brilliant job at ensuring that, but a bard without music was a sorry sight. Priscilla would be changed, scarred in more ways than one…. and Jaskier was scared.

“I love you,” he wanted to say but he couldn’t, not when the words might not be true for much longer. Who was he really trying to comfort here? Priscilla or himself?

So instead he brought her hands to his lips, and continued to watch the steady rise and fall of her chest. Then with a sad smile, he left the room.

_

One word Prompts

[hum-my-name]

Another fic for @whataboutthebard!!

Prompt: Getting to know each other

Pairing: Jaskier/Priscilla

Warnings: None

Title: The song stuck in my head

<>

It shouldn’t be an important evening, Jaskier thinks as he sits around one of Oxenfurt’s stickier tavern tables, laughing at a joke Valdo made about one of their professors. The sunset sits around the city with that early evening glow, too early to get properly drunk but just late enough for the university students to begin claiming the city’s alcohol supply. Jaskier leans into the warmth bubbling across his skin though he knows he’s barely had enough drink to get away with acting so childish, mimicking Valdo’s poor pronunciation of proper literary terms and dodging the crumbs Valdo throws in retaliation. 

No, it’s not an important evening— until the door pushes open and the very air around Jaskier changes. A brush of a cool breeze winds through the tavern’s patrons, following a trail until it strikes Jaskier with a shudder, sticking to him and turning his head until he’s forced to look only at her .

Jaskier’s familiar with the feeling of love at first sight— want or lust, to be more exact— so he doesn’t know what to call the sensation that settles in his chest when he watches this new girl walk into the bar. It’s all at once comforting and frightening, nerve-wracking and terribly exciting.

“Ah, Julian. Find another heart to break?” Valdo leans towards him with a sly smile. “Another lover to add onto your list?”

“Fuck off,” Jaskier says, scowling when Valdo only laughs.

The blonde girl who entered makes her way to a corner table, smiling and raising her hand when a group of friends, it seems, calls her over with waves and shouts of a name Jaskier can’t make out. The tavern’s empty enough, though, that he hears her responding laughter. He sees the curve of pink lips when she smiles. 

Jaskier didn’t come here tonight to find a partner. He came to relax after a week of papers and exams, of battling Valdo for the top spot in class only for some other student to beat them to it. Even now, Jaskier reminds himself how rude it would be to leave Valdo alone— even if Jaskier’s heart bursts into his throat, certain that Valdo would understand if Jaskier was leaving here with someone like her . 

No. Fuck. He shakes his head and turns away. He’s here to drink and joke and nothing more. 

At least, that’s what he reminds himself as Valdo shoves a tankard of ale into his hand. 

“Gods, Julian, you look like a swooning maiden,” he says.

“Am I a pretty maiden, at least?” Jaskier asks, fixing a smirk onto his lips. Turned back around, he’s no longer facing the blonde; his chest aches with a rather dramatic pang of loss, berating him for turning away so quickly. He shoves the feeling down with a long drink, missing Valdo’s response as he fights the urge to glance over his shoulder.

“You’re more boring than usual tonight,” Valdo says after a moment, wrinkling his nose at Jaskier. With a drawn out sigh, he shoves away from the table. “I’m going to see if they have anything stronger here— perhaps that will lift your spirits. Do try to find a personality while I’m gone.”

Jaskier’s hand lifts in a rude gesture towards Valdo, though it’s only half as sincere as it could be. 

“Only if you promise not to steal it from me when you return,” Jaskier teases, twisting his head to watch Valdo as he walks past him.

A fatal mistake, truly, as it brings his gaze back to that girl.

Keep reading on AO3!!

[arreloi]

Some Dandelion and Priscilla for a friend (not on Tumblr sadly)

Also, tagging @lohrendrell, cause that was one of the options you wanted to see (Don't worry, you gonna get that Geralt x Dandelion anyway)

[havenoffandoms]

Congratulations on 800 followers!! Could I request prompt 59. with Jaskier x Priscilla, please? Thanks so much!!

Thank you nonnie, and you certainly can! This is soooo soft with a hint of angst. I hope you enjoy it!

You can request a prompt here. You can also request the same prompt twice for a different pairing. I will add all of my answered prompts to a masterlist once I’ve written a few. 

Dandelion x Priscilla - “The thought of losing you scares me” (prompt 59)

Master Dandelion. Priscilla - she’s badly hurt.

When Dandelion learned that Priscilla was attacked, it was like the foundations of his entire existence shook and threatened to crumble. At first it felt like the ground was yanked from underneath his feet and it had taken all of Dandelion’s self-control not to drop to his knees and scream in utter despair. After the initial shock subsided, worry gripped Dandelion’s stomach in its cold iron grip, twisting and pulling until he felt physically sick. As he followed Geralt to the Vilemerius Hospital, it was all Dandelion could do not to throw up his lunch into a bush. On their way up the stairs leading to the room Priscilla was being kept in, Dandelion tried to rationalise the situation. It could simply not be Priscilla lying in that hospital bed. There was a mistake. It wasn’t her, not his Priscilla, not his Callonetta, his beautiful nightingale. 

When Dandelion saw her lying in that bed, her face bruised and her breathing shallow, small pained moans pushing past her lips. Worry gave way to despair. Who would do this to this beautiful woman? Priscilla could never have done anything to earn herself such a beating. She was kind, wore her heart on her sleeve, and most importantly she would never hurt a fly. Never!

Her condition is critical but stable. 

Despair then gave way to anger as Dandelion turned to face Geralt. 

“Find the bastard who did this. Find him and kill him.” 

“Didn’t need any convincing,” Geralt assured him. 

Even though that incident happened nearly a year ago and Priscilla was well on the mend, Dandelion still woke up in the middle of night sweating and crying, his hand coming up to clutch at his chest as if the gesture alone would steady his racing heart. His eyes would then dart to Priscilla’s side of the bed - a bed they’d been sharing for many months now - just to make sure she was there, that she was safe. 

Today, as he stands on the balcony of The Chameleon, Dandelion lets the chilly night breeze cool his sweat-flushed skin. After waking up from yet another nightmare, he decides to leave bed so he wouldn’t disturb a still sleeping Priscilla. Dandelion’s eyes scan the streets below, his keen ears occasionally picking up the sound of drunken chatter or chanting from the patrons leaving The Chameleon. Wednesdays are Dandelion’s day off, where he left the managing duties of his tavern to his very capable and reliable staff. He needs the time off and he needs this time to be close to Priscilla. On Wednesdays, they spend their time working on her singing. They have to take it slow - Priscilla’s vocal chords are still very fragile, but she is nothing if not determined to make them work. 

Dandelion helps because there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for his Callonetta, his beautiful nightingale. Dandelion is patient with her, he never pushes her further than she’s comfortable going but he often has to gently remind her not to put too much pressure on herself. Priscilla worries she will never be able to sing again. Dandelion is just grateful that she’s there, that she lives, that she breathes. The sound of her soft snoring, the sound of her croaked laughter, the way her voice breaks when she’s tired - all of these sounds were results of the trauma she experience, but they still sounded like music to Dandelion’s ears, the most beautiful kind there is, because Priscilla is there. She’s there, with him, alive and well. 

Dandelion doesn’t care if she’ll never sing again. Hell, he’ll give up his own singing career and focus solely on his poetry and his cabaret if it’ll make Priscilla feel like less of a failure. She is his life’s achievement, his most treasured jewel. His life wouldn’t make sense without Priscilla in it. 

A soft hand pulls Dandelion out of his reverie, causing him to flinch at the unexpected touch. A whispered apology floats between them. He doesn’t need to turn around to know that Priscilla has joined him. The smell of her perfume - lily of the valley and hyacinth, his favourite - washes over him in calming waves. 

“Priscilla, my love,” he says, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her to his warm body, “what are you doing out of bed? You’ll catch your death out here.”

“The bed’s cold without you in it,” she gives as explanation, her voice slightly husky from misuse and heavy with sleep. Dandelion places a soft kiss to her head. “Come back to bed, darling.”

“In a minute, my sweet,” Dandelion promises, “I just need the fresh air.”

“Another nightmare.” Priscilla guesses right, of course. She knows how tormented Dandelion still is over what happened to her. How he blames himself, how he wishes he could’ve been the one to avenge her and not Geralt. But Dandelion, sadly, is no warrior. He has other qualities to make up for that, but what good was his poetry and his singing voice when the woman he loves is in danger? 

“Yes.” 

There’s no point lying to her. She would see right through him, anyway. 

“Why do you torture yourself so, Dandelion? You know I don’t blame you for what happened.”

“Perhaps not, but I blame myself. I should’ve... I should not have let you leave the cabaret alone.” Dandelion turns to face Priscilla, his eyes shimmering with everything he can’t bring himself to say because of the tightness in his throat. Priscilla’s hand comes up to cup his cheek, her engagement ring catching the light of a street lantern. She agreed to become his wife several weeks ago and yet Dandelion still feels like he doesn’t deserve her. 

“As if you could stop me from doing anything of the sort. I am a modern woman, Dandelion, I can do what I want,” Priscilla challenges, a mischievous light twinkling in her eyes, “my love, please I’m begging you. Don’t linger in the past. Look with me towards the future instead. Oh, and what a bright future lies ahead of us.”

“How can I forget the past,” Dandelion asks, a hint of desperation lacing his tone, “when it reminds me of what I almost lost. Your future husband, my sweet, is the biggest coward of all. I can’t forget what happened to you, I can’t forget how scared I was when I thought that… that you might not… Priscilla, the thought of losing you scares me.”

“I know, Dandelion,” she brushes her thumb across his cheek, catching a wayward tear in the process, “but you keep telling me that you want to get this behind us. How are we supposed to do this if you won’t stop blaming yourself for what happened to me?”

“Priscilla - “

“Hush, I won’t hear it,” she gently chastises, a long elegant finger coming to cover his lips. A small smile tugs at the corner of Priscilla’s lips as she stands on her tiptoes and places the chastest of kisses on Dandelion’s lips. “I won’t hear it, alright? Come back to bed, dear fiancé, or do you want your future wife to freeze before her wedding?”

“We certainly don’t want that to happen,” Dandelion agrees, his chest warming as he gazes in Priscilla’s eyes. He thinks that drowning in these blue orbs would not be the worst way to go. Dandelion follows Priscilla back to bed and wraps her in his arms, pulling her close and nuzzling her neck. He places hot, open-mouthed kisses on her fair skin, occasionally nibbling the spots he knows drive her crazy. There is no heat to his ministrations, not tonight. Tonight, he simply needs to feel her close.

“I love you, my Callonetta.”

“I love you too, Dandelion. Now try to get some sleep. We have a busy day in the morning.”

Priscilla pressed close to him and the feeling of her breath hitting his hairy chest are both reassuring sensations. His hand resting between her shoulder blades faintly picks up on her heart beating softly in a regular rhythm. Comforted by the fact that the light of his life was not going anywhere anytime soon, Dandelion succumbs to a dreamless slumber.

[fangirlsfavoritebardboy]

I would like to apologize while I'm ahead and say that I am almost done with the last chapter of "Welly Boots", and I may have gone overboard and decided to make Priscilla a ghost. My bad 👉👈

[mrwitcher]

Would you consider writing Jaskier x Priscilla, please?

Papers laid, scattered all over the bed around the two of them. Priscilla laughed as she read over the draft. Jaskier was sitting across from her on the bed, her legs sat over his. His pants were soft under her bare thighs, his shirt was draped over her. The light from the candles around the room made Jaskier's eyes sparkle and Priscilla's golden hair glow.

Jaskier pulled the bottle of wine away from his lips. "What's so funny, my love?" He asked, lips posed in a smile, ready for praise over a particularly clever joke that he had slipped in.

"There are a few problems," She said, unable to repress the smile in her voice.

Jaskier's brows shot up, but Priscilla continued before he could get started on the rant he had building up on his tongue.

"It's bad," She said, giggling a bit, "Thank the gods you had me take a look before you tried to perform this."

Jaskier's jaw dropped open. "It's ba-" He stopped midsentence, holding his finger up as he took another drink from the bottle. "It's bad?"

A smile was spread across her lips, "Terrible."

Priscilla reached over and took the wine from him. The moment Jaskier's hands were free, they were on Priscilla's waist, pulling her in closer.

"I think I deserve some reparations for the insults to my work," Jaskier's pout hid a smile of his own.

Priscilla held up a finger, took a drink of the wine before meeting his lips halfway.

[ghostlylicious]

cw suggestive‼️

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sighh,,,, anyways new dandelion art after a while feat. his gf priscilla as a higher vampire !! dw this won't be all there will be more😼

[thedemonofcat]

Geralt Entry #7: Jaskier had invited me to spend winter in Oxenfurt with him. He must be planning an ambush.

(Jaskier didn’t wanted to spend winter alone since Priscilla and Essi wouldn’t be there this year)

At the very start of there travels together, Geralt had some trust issues and couldn't wrap his mind around Jaskier genuinely being nice to him. Geralt assumed that Jaskier was plotting something nefarious.

Geralt’s Journal entry: Jaskier had bought me a tart. I fear he is attempting to poison me.

[abluescarfonwaston]

Only Yours - Bonus

Hey yall. This is a deleted scene from part 3 of Only Yours. Because a few people asked to see this when i complained about deleting it a month ago and cause spielzeugkaiser is a blessing. Enjoy some Jaskier/Priscilla/Valdo hurt/Comfort! NSFW

He was safe in Geralt’s bed. He hadn’t felt safe, truly safe, in a bed since schooling. Since those lazy hours between classes when he and Valdo and Priscilla would lounge over each other working on compositions and half-assing assignments. Singing and playing and arguing and falling over and into each other.

Not loved sex with someone so much since they’d all practiced on each other.

Practiced making Priscilla come with his mouth and hands until she was a contented, sated mess in his arms. Not since he’d nervously gotten on his knees for Valdo and swallowed him down. Not since Valdo had bumped the back of his throat and every muscle had tensed with terror and Valdo had pulled back and Priscilla had held him in her arms until he relaxed and Valdo had walked him through what he could do instead while he calmed down so the lords wouldn’t get testy with him if he panicked.

Because sex was a skill that they all had to master. 

Because they couldn’t afford to disappoint.

Because the people they met out there were unlikely to slow down for untrained gag reflexes and vomiting on someone was a quick way to earn a beating.

Because giving amazing head might make the difference between a satisfied lord and a torn ass when they decided spit counted as lubrication.

He hadn’t felt truly safe in a bed since theirs. They were safe on that tiny mattress to be messy and terrible and imperfect. To try things and not like them and figure out how to push through them when inevitably they occurred while wrapped up in the safety of knowing they could all see the struggle and would help each other through it.

He was safe in their shared bed. Safe to be imperfect.

Like when Priscilla had brought the ropes in. How they’d tied Valdo up first and she’d ordered both of them around and his spine had shivered every time she spoke. How Valdo had gone soft and mellow and content under him as he fucked into him. How Valdo had flown under Priscilla’s guidance and his hands.

It was amazing and beautiful and he wanted to feel that way too.

“How’s that feel?” She asked as he tested the ropes.

“Like I might get rope burn if this goes on too long.” He told her. There wasn’t much give to them. “And given how long Valdo takes to get anything done that might be a problem.”

“I’m not the one with a delicate flower of an ass Jaskier. Maybe if you’d relax this wouldn’t take so long.” Valdo sassed at him as his slicked finger teased his hole.

“Make me you prick.” He challenged. “Not like you don’t enjoy things that are needlessly complicated. I mean that pretentious piece you picked? Over compensating much?”

“Says the man who plays nothing but brothel worthy drivel. Sounds like you need a prick worse than I do.” His finger slipped in just past the first joint and he tensed. Valdo stilled and waited for him.

“Well at this rate it’ll never be yours. Maybe you should spend less time practicing your vocal scales and more on your fingering cause it leaves a lot to be desired.” He pulled on the ropes trying to wiggle to a better position but they didn’t have enough give for him to do much of anything.

“That sounds like an excellent idea Jaskier.” He looked over at her relaxed smile and Valdo sunk in just a fraction. Eased by her confidence. “Valdo why don’t you put that mouth of yours to work.”

Valdo rolled his eyes but obligingly swallowed him down.

Valdo was many things but bad at head was not one of them and he whined and bucked into him with all the slack the ropes gave him.

“No coming yet Jaskier.” She told him and it was very hard to obey when Valdo was moving his tongue like that and-

Valdo pulled off. He sobbed at the betrayal. His wrists and ankles twinging in pain. They definitely needed better ropes or something if they were going to do this more.

“He’s ready.” Valdo said smugly. Fingers curling in him just so and he was straining against the ropes, chasing that last bit of friction he needed to tumble over the edge.

“Perfect.” She leaned over him, stroking his face with just the tips of her fingers, not allowing more. “Can you feel how his fingers are stretching you Jaskier? How big they are?” He clenched around them and whined through a nod. “Do you remember how much bigger his cock is Jaskier? How much wider he’s going to stretch you, how much fuller you’re going to be?” He pushed back trying to press the fingers against that spot again but he couldn’t get the angle right. He did remember. He wanted it so badly.

“Valdo pull out.”

Valdo did. That traitor. Leaving him empty. Horribly achingly empty.

“Jaskier do you know what your job is?” He looked over at her and he shivered at her face. Calm and collected and he knew she was going to take care of him. Take care of everything. He blinked and realized she’d asked a question. He shook his head slowly.

“It’s to lay there and take everything we give you.” He smiled hazily at that. “Because you’re so good at receiving. And it’s going to feel so good as Valdo opens you up and spreads you out around him. And I bet we won’t even have to touch you will we? Because you love making us feel good so much that when Valdo fucks you you’ll come all on your own.”

He nodded at her pretty voice and he was slowly being speared open. “That’s our flower. Opening up so pretty for me. Fuck Jaskier.”

He moved his legs to wrap around Valdo but something tugged at his ankles and he frowned. Priscilla’s face twitched uncertainly and he reached out to hold her but he couldn’t. And there was a slap on his ass as a cock ground into him delivering just a prick of pain.

And he was lying on his back in his family’s stable and his father was screaming his name but he couldn’t get the stable hand off him fast enough and his feet where caught in his pants and the stable hand  was pulling out and running but his father – his father.

His father was grabbing the riding crop “Jaskier,” because it was right there and it hurt so much “Jaskier!” and he couldn’t get away. He knew he couldn’t get away form his Father’s voice screaming those names at him or from the pain and it was exactly what he deserved for what he did-

Water splattered over his face. Valdo. Holding an empty cup. Pale and terrified.

Valdo’s lips moved. The sound reaching him a decade later. “Sorry. Thought it might bring you back to us.”

He rolled onto his side whimpering. Digging his fingers into his arms. The mattress sunk down as Priscilla laid down in front of him. “Can I touch your hair Jaskier?”

He nodded, a sob escaping him as she pet it softly. He leaned into the motion.

“Hip touch?” Valdo asked behind him. He curled tighter. “Arms then?” He nodded. His hand rubbed against his arm. Slowly forcing his fingers away from where they dug into his skin to hold Valdo’s.

“Jaskier?” She asked when his breath didn’t hitch with every gasp. “Can Valdo hold you?”

He nodded and his back was pressed into Valdo’s hairless chest. Wrapped in his gangly arms. His lips pressed to the crook of his ear. “Hold our gal will you? She looks like she needs it.”

He let go of Valdo’s hand and uncurled enough to pull her clothed form to his chest.

“What was it Jaskier?” She asked once he was liquid in their arms. He shook his head.

“Come on little flower. You always open up so pretty.” Valdo whispered into his ear. He shivered.

“I couldn’t hold you.” He told her. “I couldn’t get away.”

“Okay.” She agreed. “We’ll work on it.” Because there was no other option. He had to be able to deal with it. “Later.”

“Thank you.” He muttered. Valdo’s cock was still half hard against his hip. “Wanna finish what you started?”

“Do you?”

He paused. He was safe here. Squished between them on this tiny mattress in Priscilla’s room. “Not really.”

“Then no. I’m good.”

The world outside this room wouldn’t be so kind. Wouldn’t listen when he said no. Because bards were always willing.

Always willing to take no for an answer.

If only the rest of the world was too.