#jaskier have broken heart

[thelostgirl21]

Okay but...

Jaskier always wore blue-green doublets (various shades of teal, olive...) in Season 1, except for one episode...

That episode. The one where Geralt told him that if life could give him one blessing, it would be to take him off his hands!

On that episode he was wearing a bright red doublet over a blue-green shirt.

And, ever since, he's been wearing his red/burgundy coat, and has totally abandonned those blue-green color tones.

Besides red, he's been sticking to whites and browns and more earthly tones (his vests are also a mix of red and gold).

Red is the color of Radovid's Kingdom (note: the chaotic part of me almost wishes Redania's color was blue, just to mess with people's expectations!), often combined with white, gold, brown and black.

The wardrobe of nobles and people at court is dominated by those colors.

In terms of 100% accidental foreshadowing, I just think it's interesting that Jaskier was already on his way to adopting the colors of Radovid's own world when Geralt essentially "cast him off" from his.

(And that the very first time Geralt and Jaskier met, Jaskier's doublet had slits with just a tiny bit of red and gold seeping through.)

I'm starting to think that it might have been a good thing that Jaskier was only wearing a pair of pants and a shirt that first time he and Radovid met.

As revealing as that outfit was, Jaskier standing there in all of his bardic glorly with his long red leather coat, flashing hints of gold at Radovid, just might have clearly signaled to him that he'd just found himself a suitable mate!

Don't know if that was the intent or not, but Jaskier's outfit on the show also offers a nice nod to him actually being Redanian nobility (viscount), but with a much less formal vibe...

He basically looks like a Redanian noble that escaped into the wild and went feral!

Yup! Jaskier is now dressed like a feral Redanian viscount that keeps "wailing" (Joey's words, not mine!) outside to attract mates, stealing scraps of food from everyone he comes across, sneaking into people's homes to go sniff around your perfectly domesticated Redanian prince...

Next thing you know, your domesticated Redanian prince is stealing food from your plate, hissing and giving you attitude, then he suddenly runs away from his prince-sitters to disappear into a forest in the hopes of finding the feral Redanian viscount.

He finally manages to locate him when he hears the distant and familiar sound of him "wailing" a feral Cintran princess to sleep, makes noise to attract him outside, starts "wailing" back, and winds up mating with him in the back of a woodshed!

And the moment your domesticated Redanian prince is eventually found and brought back home - all dirty and stinky, no less - the first thing he stubbornly wants to do is run off into the wild again to go chase after that pesky feral Redanian viscount to go help him reunite with the rest of his feral pack, and hopefully be allowed to join it so they can mate more often!

[samstree]

if i get a nickle every time the witcher tv show stopped the gays from running away together, i'd have two nickles. it's not a lot of nickles and it's not weird, but it has happened twice now and i don't know if i can take it a third time.

[blooms-in-april]

"Here."

Jaskier looks up from his lute to see Eskel holding the reins of a horse so beautiful it looks like a pearlescent moon.

"She's for you." Eskel says.

Jaskier moves as if in a dream, taking the reins of the albino mare. Eskel continues, the words flowing.

"She was a steal, blemished. Someone cut her deep in the head and sides. But I thought you'd find that romantic, you know. Make a wounded unicorn out of her marks. And you need a horse and you like pretty things. It made sense to me."

The chords of his throat knot, cut short. Jaskier draws his fingers through the white mare's mane, lute callouses catching on hair white as snow. He picks at a stuck burr and his heart clenches with the familiarity of the movement .

"Why couldn't it have been you?" He says.

Eskel stops abruptly. There is something wild and despairing in the bards voice, a reclamation of destiny.

"Why couldn't it have been you I met in Posada all those years ago?" Jaskier says. "Where were you twenty years ago? Where were you ten? Where were you when I was young and green and full of music?Of course I meet you now,"

He laughs, and there is no melody in it.

"Of course I meet you now, when I am full and sick of loving. You would have been- kind, when you finally sent me away. You would have killed it quickly, killed the dream quiet and fast, in my sleep, like a horse with a broken leg too weak to stand."

[thedemonofcat]

Geralt gets cursed to only hear the negative thoughts of those around him. He already knew how most people felt about him, but it was really starting to bum him the fuck out.

He's been avoiding meeting Jaskier until the curse can be cured. He doesn't think he could handle hearing his best friend/secret crush think poorly of him.

Then, they meet by chance. Geralt braces himself to have his heart broken, but the negative thoughts surrounding Jaskier are mostly self-centered. And the ones involving Geralt are generally Jaskier lamenting how the witcher doesn't take care of himself.

And then, Jaskier has a thought about how Geralt will never love him.

"Stupid, this song is awful." Geralt could hear Jaskier's thoughts loud and clear. The bard was attempting to write a new song, and his self-criticism was relentless.

"What are you working on?" Geralt asked, hoping to interrupt the stream of negativity.

"Oh, just some new song material," Jaskier replied, though his thoughts betrayed him: "He doesn't really care."

"Can I see it?" Geralt asked. Jaskier hesitated for a moment. Sharing unfinished work had always made him uncomfortable, but after a brief pause, he handed over his notebook.

"These are good," Geralt said, his tone genuine.

"Liar," Jaskier's thoughts hissed. "He hates you. You're a worthless piece of crap. No wonder they call you the Witcher's Whore."

"I don’t think of you as my whore," Geralt said softly, the words escaping before he could stop them.

[casually-eat-my-soul]

Okay so after the mountain breakup Geralt wants to apologize but he’s not sure how too. When he goes home for the winters he’s much more grumpy then usual and his brother and vesmir can smell his angsting. It take them nearly all winter to figure out why Geralt is so sad, but when they do they try and help.

All three of them try to figure out a way to have Geralt apologize. But they are Witchers and treat this in the same way they treat a monster hunt. They also don’t understand humans, and Geralt isn’t really that helpful as Jaskier is so different from humans.

When they finally come up with a decent plan, that has backups of course — “what if he escapes out a window instead of listening to Geralt?”

“Humans don’t jump out of widows lambert, they wouldn’t survive”

“Hmm no Jask jumped out of a three story widow when he heard that Valdo Marx was in the same building.”

“Fuck, we got to block out all the exits”

— Geralt sets out to apologize, and unbeknownst to him Lambert and Eskel follow him. They decide that since Geralt bard is well a bard, Geralt obviously needs to serenade him as he apologizes. (Ye old boombox)

So they buy cheap instruments and lay in wait. When Geralt finally starts to apologize it comes off awkward they jump in and start play horribly. They are both sing two different songs while they play hit cross buns. — “I fucked up and now I’m an angsty bastard without you, please fuck me again.”

“Lambert shut the fuck up, the lyric we agreed too was I’m deathly in love with you and being without you leaves me heart broken and berate” — It’s not really a surprise though lambert only followed to make fun of Geralt, while Eskel is a true romantic at heart.

They end up getting into a fist fight, in front of one mortified Geralt and dying laughing Jaskier. but while they are distracted with fighting each other Geralt pulls Jaskier aside and properly apologizes. It’s a sweet moment and they are both slightly crying — “I know that you may never forgive me, but I wish for you to travel with me again, to be better for you, to you.

“Geralt I forgave you two days after the mountain, I missed you too.” — Coen appears out of nowhere with a flower bouquet and gives it Jaskier and claims it’s from Geralt. He also kisses Jaskier hand before stepping away. Geralt nearly decks him. Jaskier makes a joke about swooning over Coen, so Geralt in a fit of confidence kisses him.

Next winter when Geralt brings Jaskier to the keep, they roast his ass. There isn’t a day that goes by without lambert or Eskel bringing up how angsty Geralt was last winter. Jokes on them they don’t have someone like Jaskier to wake up too.

[bluebugjay]

piecing together the timeline after watching Sirens of the deep and I so wanna know in what order Jaskier wrote his songs after the mountain break up because The Golden One, Her Sweet Kiss and Burn Butcher Burn were all written either on that mountain or just afterwards (even possibly on the way down from the mountain)

TGO is about the whole dragon / mountain quest but specifically mentions the dragon guy (sorry) telling Geralt and Yennefer that they're not compatible which is the catalyst for their fight and then also Geralt and Jaskier's fight which is what causes them to go their separate ways, which means Jaskier finished that song after the mountain breakup

He was writing HSK on the way up the mountain, we see him trying out different words for the lyrics (I think it's 'gorgeous garroter, jury and judge) and probably finishes it after the mountain??

Then BBB is after the mountain but how recent? did he put off writing a song about it in case Geralt came back to find him and all was forgiven? Or did he write it immediately after, sliding down the mountain and grumbling the lyrics to himself in his rejection?

did he finish TGO first to take his mind off of his hurt, to try and act like normal, just writing and singing songs about Geralt like nothing even happened? Is his bitterness coming out in him mentioning Geralt and Yennefer's argument in the song? Did he already have HSK finished before their fight? Was the argument just salt in the wound of an already broken heart? How long did it take before he played BBB in front of an audience, did he regret it? Did he ever play HSK in front of an audience or did he keep that one all to himself?

[shy-urban-hobbit]

“I mean, you’ve got to feel a little sorry for them really haven’t you?” Jaskier said from where he was mopping up the last of the evidence of the half dead rat Roach had thoughtfully decided to gift them (the first time it happened he’d shrieked in surprise before Geralt put it out of its misery with a matter of fact “Welcome to country living, city boy”). Geralt gave a non committal hum from where he was warming milk up for Ciri on the stove. The little girl sat colouring at the large kitchen table - too large for two, but that would change when Geralt’s brothers and any guests they decided to bring descended on them.

“I mean they’re just minding their own business like, Oh I’m a hungry rat. Please don’t kill me.” Here Jaskier put on a slightly squeaky voice and held up his hands in imitation of paws, still holding onto the mop, “And then wham one of the last things they see is Roach’s teeth coming towards them. So many teeth.” He gave the resident farm cat a critical stare and received a dismissive tail flick in response.

Ciri giggled at his antics which caused him to grin back at her in return. It always felt like a special sort of personal victory when he managed to coax a laugh out of the little girl.

Despite being together for six months, he was still being introduced to her as her father’s ‘friend’ (which was true enough, they wouldn’t be dating if they didn’t get along) and Jaskier was happy to go along with it. Geralt had explained without revealing too much that the little one had been let down by too many adults in her life already, himself included, and ‘boyfriend’ was maybe just a little too official sounding for the time being (and if he said his heart hadn’t broken a little for the five year old smiling at him from Geralt’s phone, he’d by lying), especially after the shit that had gone down with his ex. Geralt hadn’t gone into detail but from what Jaskier had gathered, the woman had had a hidden agenda in wanting to get back with Geralt and Ciri had almost gotten seriously hurt as a result. Geralt had blamed himself for jumping back into the relationship too quickly and so, any potential partners now had to pass what Jaskier had dubbed ‘The Ciri test’.  

He liked to think he’d passed the first portion with flying colours, the tiny blonde seeming perfectly comfortable with him in public places. Now they were dipping their toes into Jaskier staying in their home for longer periods, with Jaskier having graduated from the guest bedroom to sharing with Geralt the previous visit (the brunette wanting the ground to swallow him up when she happily informed her Uncle Eskel of ‘Daddy’s sleepover’ when the man had dropped by unexpectedly the following morning. Geralt had just shrugged and told him to be thankful it hadn’t been Lambert; who could and would, happily take the piss forever).

“Alright Ciri, put your things away and then go get your bedtime book. I’ll be in in a minute.” Geralt said, pouring the warm milk into a plastic My Little Pony cup.

“I want Jask.” Ciri declared form where she was trying to force the crayons back into their box by the (relatively small) handful, Causing both adults to stop what they’d been doing and stare at one another. This was new.

“You sure you don’t want daddy?” Jaskier asked, looking to Geralt for some sign as to what he should do.

“You do better funny voices. Daddy’s all sound the same.”

It took everything Jaskier had not to burst out laughing at that as he took in the minute eye twitch from the other man at that statement, “Geralt?”

Geralt nodded, “Mind if I stay and listen? You know how much I love The Gruffalo.”

Jaskier snorted and felt a surge of fondness. The lies we tell for our children.

It ended up being a joint effort, with Geralt guest starring as The Gruffalo “On account of you being so, well...gruff.” and admitting to a slightly too smug looking Jaskier and a mostly asleep Ciri that “Yes, Jaskier does better voices for everyone else. Especially Mouse.”

"Everything ok? You’ve gone all quiet on me.” Jaskier said from where he had his head in Geralt’s lap as they watched some mindless Netflix show. “I didn’t overstep did I?” He was suddenly frantic, his anxieties bubbling back up to the surface now that he didn’t have a performance and an audience to focus on, “I know you probably just said yes so things wouldn’t be awkward. I probably should have told her no and come up with an excuse but how can anybody say no to that face-“

“Jaskier. It’s fine, honestly.” Geralt said, rubbing his hands up and down Jaskier’s arm in a way he knew calmed him, “I’ve built up something of an immunity to Ciri’s puppy eyes. I would’ve said no if I had a problem with it. I’m just thinking.”

“About?”

“About how I might have a question for Ciri.”

The next morning saw Jaskier seeing both of them off with a hug (also accompanied by fishing a stray cheerio out of Ciri’s hair which he had been too tired to question) before heading back to his city apartment and his job as a music tutor.

“Ciri?” Geralt asked, putting her school backpack by the door as he knelt down to help her button up her coat, “You know how Aiden is Uncle Lambert’s boyfriend?"

It had slowly been killing Jaskier not to check his phone as soon as the text notification came through but he was nothing if not professional and he would not check his phone when he was in the middle of a lesson. Thank the Gods he did wait as he was prettu sure he gave his retreating student a minor heart attack with the squeal he let out at Geralt’s message:

‘Ciri has been proudly announcing to her classmates this morning that Jaskier is her daddy’s boyfriend. Much disappointment from the single mums.’

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Early on in their friendship, there came a year where Geralt and Jaskier’s paths did not intersect at all.

Jaskier had full confidence in Geralt’s abilities, but he couldn’t keep himself from worrying when he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of his witcher for 14 months! He had a dangerous profession. One full of blades and blood and enemies and monsters. What if his dearest friend and muse was dead?!?

He wasn’t ready to write that song! He didn’t think he ever wanted to write that song.

Thankfully, his witcher was not dead. They had a tearful reunion—well, Jaskier was the only one who cried, but it counted!—and continued their travels together.

However, the bard now insisted that they agree on meeting places before parting. He would not be deprived of his witcher again, thank you very much.

Jaskier also commissioned some magical items to give himself peace of mind.

Jaskier had a mage enchant a pair of talismans with dandelions painted on them. The enchantment was activated when a person smeared their blood over the talisman, which would then reflect the person’s health. If they were injured, the dandelions would wilt in proportion to the injury. If the person died, the dandelions died too.

So, Jaskier explained to his fierce friend that they would exchange talismans in order to stay informed on the other’s welfare.

There was a part of Jaskier that worried Geralt would refuse, but the witcher immediately unsheathed a knife to prick their fingers.

The talisman always brought comfort to Jaskier during their separations. It soothed him to have proof of Geralt’s wellbeing.

Even after getting his heart broken on the mountain, Jaskier kept his talisman. Him being sad and angry didn’t mean he was done caring. (Though sometimes he considered chucking the thing out a window)

Then, Nilfgaard captured Jaskier. Their mage made sure to disenchant Jaskier’s person to ensure that he didn’t have any means of calling for help or escaping.

Not even Geralt would know of his plight.

***

Across the continent, the moment the mage disenchanted Jaskier, Geralt watched the dandelions on his talisman burst into flames.

YASSSSSSSSSSSSSSS YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

[limerental]

ficletvember 2024 - day 12

yennskier post-s2 yucky tender gooiness

Having grown unexpectedly close in the winter spent at Kaer Morhen, Yennefer comes to a realization while in bed one morning with Jaskier.

That morning, Yennefer wakes to the sunrise warming the cold stone walls. The wind whistles through the narrow windows and the dingy old keep creaks and settles, but her bed is piled in furs and she has no obligation to rise and there is a warm body burrowed down beside her, his cheek against her bare shoulder.

Jaskier twitches in sleep, mumbling incoherently, never wholly silent even while unconscious. His messy hair tickles her neck, grown long, and he’s drooling on her from the corner of his open mouth. 

Something about that makes Yennefer feel fond rather than disgusted. She wants to press her fingers back through his tangled hair and kiss him awake, wants to push down the furs to reveal more of his body, her other hand stealing down through the dark hair on his belly. 

She wants to let him sleep a while longer, knowing that lately he’s been plagued by nightmares and bouts of insomnia after everything that happened the past months. He passes off the sleeplessness as bouts of creative fervor, staying up in Kaer Morhen’s dusty library writing drivel in his songbook. Most nights, she stays up with him, offering droll commentary and scathing critique. 

More than once, she’s dozed off in a high-backed chair in the library and woken to found that he’s carried her to bed, wrapped around her with his lips against her neck.

She spends most days in his company, both of them unclear where else they're meant to fit in the keep. The Witchers avoid her, Geralt won’t meet her eyes, and Ciri is curious and friendly enough but overly polite, never asking the questions she really wants to.

Yennefer suffers also nightmares, dark and churning and unspeakable, and every morning, she reaches to pull at a thread of chaos. Just to be certain that she still can.

Jaskier’s nightmares are often of fire and blood, shackled at the wrists while the flames climb the rafters overhead, broken fingers clawing at a locked door. Sometimes when Yennefer slips into his dreams to momentarily soothe them into something more pleasant, she sees herself with blood spilling down her slit wrists, feels the yawning fear that hollows his stomach. 

At present, his dreams are a fumble of disjointed images, some erotic and some comical with a bizarre overlap between the two. He mumbles something about sphincters and then ducks and his brows furrow, and Yennefer feels a strong and alarming surge of irrational affection for this ridiculous man sleeping beside. 

It makes little sense for the realization to come at that moment. That she loves him. Has fallen in love with him. Despite all his varied flaws or perhaps because of them. His simple, unfettered humanity. His baffling aesthetic choices. His constant whining and waffling. His heart, deep and compassionate and always aching a little. His cheeky lewd stupidity and his sincere and cliched candor.

Yennefer loves him.

It’s an unpleasant feeling, rising like acid reflux, because of course, realizing how she feels changes nothing. 

Jaskier couldn’t possibly love her back, not after everything, not being who they are. They’ve tumbled into this arrangement out of circumstance, leaning on each other for comfort and warmth through the long winter on the mountain, but this certainly isn’t his first choice. She’s seen his more pleasant dreams. The ones that span years with Geralt before she met either of them, the achey familiarity of years-long yearning fulfilled, all the right words said, all the old hurts soothed.

And if not Geralt, given the choice of any number of bedpartners across the Continent, would Jaskier ever possibly choose to wake beside her most mornings, the way she’d like to wake beside him.

The truth is that Yennefer is an afterthought, an unexpected pleasure that he’ll indulge in until spring, and then their paths will draw apart, and the cold isolation of her long and lonely life will sink back in again.

Jaskier wakes with his usual suddenness, snorting an interrupted breath, eyes blinking open as he scrunches up his whole face against the light. 

“Heh? Hughhg?” he grunts incoherently and then immediately begins to chatter. “Did I sleep in? Have we missed breakfast? Not missing much I suppose but– I just had the strangest dream about these massive waterfowl on a beautiful lake, and not gonna lie it got me going a-- Eh? Yennefer, why d’you look like that?”

“I don’t look like anything,” she says and rolls away from him, not wanting to know what face she’d been making as he woke.

Jaskier takes the opportunity to sling an arm around her waist and press his warm chest to her back, tangling their legs together as he kisses her shoulder. Not long ago, she may have balked at such open presumption that she would welcome his smothering embrace, but she does welcome it, she craves it. She turns her head to let him kiss her on the mouth, and he rolls his hips in a slow grind against her backside.

“You are not fucking me while thinking about large ducks,” she groans against his lips, feeling his very foolish thoughts pressed into her mind.

“It’s– they were alarmingly erotic!”

“Think about something else,” says Yennefer, and though she doesn’t usually like to impose herself so completely into another’s mind, wary of what she’ll find there, she allows her vulnerable fears to guide her into his thoughts.

Jaskier is thinking about the softness of her hair against his cheek, the scent of her, the sleep-warm feel of her body against his. He thinks how he’d like to wake every morning like this, how it would be enough just to hold her in his arms, to let his arousal fade to distant noise as he noses at her neck.

She hitches up a leg and reaches behind her to grip his hip and draw him to enter her, and his thoughts erupt in a slew of praises, not just for the heat of her cunt but for her raw and visceral beauty, her sharp edges, her pain, her desperate kindness. 

Yennefer feels small as his thoughts wash over her, battered by waves of longing, desire, and through it all a current of she can’t possibly feel this strongly toward little old me.

Idiots, both of them.

“Yen?” Jaskier asks, voice unsteady with alarm, and she realizes that she’s weeping, hot tears rolling to tremble on the ridge of her nose.

“I’m in love with you, you absolute fool,” says Yennefer and immediately wants to hide her burning, tear-streaked face in the pillows and pretend she hadn’t blurted that confession out so simply. 

Jaskier’s hips still.

“Really? Me?”

“No, I enjoy embarrassing myself and lying,” she says, frustrated. “Yes, you.”

“Oh.” An absent hand trails down her belly and back up. Lips mouth against the back of her neck. He resumes rocking up into her body with shallow rolls of his hips. “So would you call this love-making then? Given that I love you back, you wretched witch.”

His voice is hideously fond, his touch gentle, his thoughts a rush of warm elation.

“Call it whatever you’d like,” she says, hoping that he ignores how her voice breaks. She lets a hand fall on his backside with a smack. “Just get on with it.”

Jaskier proceeds to do so for the rest of the morning, brimming with giddy energy, all thoughts of nightmares forgotten by the both of them.

[annmarcus63]

Coën tells Vesemir that he saw something remotely large flying over the old stronghold to the west. Everyone but Geralt is thrilled. Apparently, they've been waiting for an opportunity like this, a chance to take Ciri with them to fight her very first beast as a witcher trainee. 

Lambert, Cöen, Geralt, Ciri and Yen are getting ready to take off the very next morning when Geralt asks Jaskier if he wants to come too. Jaskier tries to hide his surprise under a nonchalant facade, but he can't fool the witcher. The bard accepts the offer not a second later. It seems that his strategy is working after all, Geralt never asked if he wanted to come on a hunt before. It seems, Jaskier thinks with a lump on his throat, that he was in fact the problem after all. 

It's a short walk to the stronghold. Ciri observes the witchers track the beast, she's a fast learner. Jaskier watches too from an unobtrusive safe distance. Until all goes to hell. A royal archgriffin followed by its mate lands on the field taking everyone by surprise. Someone starts shouting orders, one archgriffin traps Lambert under its claws. It's a complete chaos. Suddenly the earth starts shaking, a roar swipes the air, Jaskier's blood goes cold when he sees a big ugly horned creature bolting from the trees. A chort. The new arrival takes everyone by surprise. Ciri ends up cornered by the chort, she has nowhere to go. Geralt is too far away; Yennefer is helping Lambert and Cöen; Ciri has lost her sword and the beast is about to bolt towards her. He acts without thinking. Nothing can't happen to her, he won't let it, even if it feels like he's running to his death. Geralt won't care, but he will if it's Ciri, he'd blame himself. It'd be Renfri all over again.  He won't let it happen. Jaskier shouts with all his might while grabbing Ciri's sword from the grass where she dropped it. He grabs the sword with both hands and plunges it into the beast's rear. Not used to handling swords, his hands slip through the blade, he feels the skin of his palms opening, like butter under a hot knife, followed by a river of blood. Someone it's shouting his name; he thinks it may be Ciri. The chort roars annoyed and turns to the bleeding bard. 

It happens in an instant. He is thrown through the air; a flash of pain explodes in his chest and grows to a cruel entity. He wishes for death.

 

-

He wakes up with a gasp followed by a groan of pain. It seems he's back at Kaer Morhen.

Not dead, then, he thinks with a hint of remorse. 

Triss is there in an instant. The witchers summoned her to help heal him, apparently, he was (is) in a very horrifying shape. He asks her for Ciri and the others, she says everyone is well, just a few bumps and bruises. Jaskier feels relieved.

"You were dead for a couple of minutes" Jaskier doesn't know what to say so he settles for thanking her for saving him. He has two broken ribs and a few more cracked, breathing is an utterly painful experience, but Triss' concoctions help a little. His hands are bandaged, Triss says they need a lot more healing, but she reassures him that he'll be able to play again. In time, at least. 

"I've never seen Geralt like that" she says suddenly "He- he said he couldn't feel you." Jaskier doesn't reply, he's rather immersed in the movement of her hands changing his chest bandages. 

"I didn't know you two were..." 

"No one knows." Says Jaskier feeling tired, body and soul. 

As if sensing the sadness in Jaskier's heart, Triss adds “He was scared.” 

"He would be fine."

"You're his soulmate, Jaskier. I don't think that he’d be fine.” 

"I have never been his soulmate." The bard flinches at his own bitterness. "I've only been a friend. A traveling companion." He corrects. 

“Jaskier…”

"He was never meant for me. Destiny must have got it all wrong, the mark on Geralt's arm should be Yennefer's not mine." He doesn't know why he's saying that to her. Maybe it’s the shock or it’s the pain, but he wants to tell someone, anyone, about another kind of pain he's been carrying all these years. He is crying, Triss hands him a tissue and smiles in a reassuring way.

Jaskier cries silently with intervals of gasps of pain, while Triss finishes his bandages and hands him a cup of fresh water. Jaskier thanks her in a quiet whisper. 

"I couldn't make him happy anyway" he wipes the tears from his eyes and finds that his hands are shaking "She does. She really does." 

"I never take you for the self-sacrificing type" says Triss holding one of his hands and squeezing. He wants to hug her, but refrains from doing so due to her broken ribs.

"I'm not" he clarifies "I'm just realistic. How could Geralt want someone like me when he has her?" 

After a few seconds of silence she says "You are enough, Jaskier." 

He wants to laugh, to disagree but refrains from it. He's only a bard, after all.

There's a knock at the door. They turn at the same time. It's Geralt, he's holding a bowl of stew in one hand and a single yellow flower on the other, and looking at Jaskier with an expression the bard can't quite decipher. 

Jaskier feels his cheeks blushing. Fucking idiot, he must have heard his pathetic monologue. 

"Can I talk to him?" He says to Triss. She stands and says "Of course." She leaves hurriedly, leaving the two staring at each other. Something heavy lies between them.

This is it, Jaskier thinks, this is where my heart will break for good.

Previous here

Next and final

As promised to dear @youknowwhoiam3490-blog (excited for your positive aggressive reading)

@mordoriscalling @dustbunnyprophet @chispy-rar-v2 @strangerzaiah

@help-help-i-need-an-adultlt

@janjan-the-ninth (not a 20 chapter fic but well…)

[ladyannemarie5]

Funny how Geralt always stayed on the sidelines with Jaskier's conquests for fear of a broken heart and yet he got a front row seat to watch the bard fall in love with the prince.

Geralt would cut the bard off when he started talking about the virtues of whatever man or woman he spent the night with, but he had no choice but to listen to Jaskier when he told him how the prince learned his song, because the poet appealed to their "best friends" bond.

Geralt smiled inwardly when the bard left his conquest for the night alone to go order him a bath and wash his hair with special soaps and oils after the hunts. And then the witcher had to witness Jaskier leaving him to go order Radovid a bath because "his long blond hair has never been anything less than perfect and cannot be left uncared for, Geralt." 

Geralt always distracted the bard with a story of past hauntings with terrifying creatures every time Jaskier began to compose a love song for his conquest, but nothing could distract the poet when he began to talk about how beautiful and bright Radovid's eyes were and how he wanted to find the perfect words to describe them. 

Geralt faked annoyance every time Jaskier asked to sleep next to him at night insinuating that he was too cold for a little bard. Geralt feigned relief when Jaskier told him that he would no longer bother him with that because he now slept with Radovid and his arms and fur blanket were more than warm. 

Geralt kept as much emotional distance as possible from the bard who approached him in a tavern in Posada so he wouldn't have to deal with a broken heart from falling in love with a human. 

But absolutely no distance in the world prepares him when that night while they were camping alone, Jaskier lying next to him and looking up at the stars, turns to him and says softly "I'm not in love with you anymore, Geralt. You don't have to act cautious around me anymore."

And Geralt can't say anything. Because he simply can't. He must have misheard, maybe the kikimore from earlier hit him too hard or something because there's no way, no world where Jaskier was in love with him. There's no way he would have wasted his chance. 

Jaskier, oblivious to the witcher's stupor, continues "I know I made you uncomfortable with my affections for you, I tried hard not to throw myself at you if I'm honest, but Radovid... I've fallen so much in love with Radovid that I'm ready to let you go. I'm sorry it took me so long to give you and Yenna peace."

Geralt looks up at the stars in silence, not believing what he just heard. Jaskier is about to turn away when Geralt takes his hand. He says nothing, just a simple squeeze. Jaskier breathes a sigh of relief, the witcher doesn't hate him for that, he doesn't ask him to leave as he had feared. Geralt is also relieved that he is no longer burdened with the bard's feelings. 

Geralt allows himself to hold his hand one last time. He allows himself a small luxury, so that he can silently mourn the loss of his bard and curse his own stupidity. Tomorrow he will watch as the bard is reunited with the prince, tomorrow he will watch with a broken heart as they embrace and the prince spins Jaskier in his arms, before kissing him and swearing eternal love. Tomorrow Geralt's heart breaks completely. 

But just for today, just for that night, he allows himself to take Jaskier's hand, draw him into his arms and breathe freely the scent of the man he has been in love with for over two decades. Just for that one night, Geralt allows himself to be happy.

----

I really love to make me cry ^^

[samstree]

jaskier, who asked someone to run away with him on a mountain top only to have his heart broken. jaskier, who is now surprised when another someone appreciates him immediately. jaskier, who gives his heart out again, only to be betrayed again.

radovid, who chooses jaskier so easily, who's ready to abandon everything for jaskier, who's planning to run away for jaskier despite all things, only to have that dream snuffed out before it even begins.

jaskier, who doesn't even know it. he doesn't even know radovid was ready to fight for him, to choose him.

[thedemonofcat]

I’ve seen soulmate fics where being rejected by your soulmate makes you very sick.

And that is really unfair. I think the reverse should be true.

Geralt gets sicker and sicker after the mountain. Only his soulmate returning to him will cure him. Geralt doesn’t want to be controlled by destiny, so he stubbornly refuses to find them.

Eskel or someone begs Jaskier to save Geralt. Even though he’s hurt, the bard makes the journey to Kaer Morhen.

He finds Geralt barely breathing. He leans down and kisses the Witcher’s forehead, whispering that he forgave him.

Once he sees that Geralt is breathing easier, Jaskier leaves before the witcher can wake up.

After all, Geralt would surely send him away again. It would be rather silly for them to go through all of this trouble only to have to immediately repeat the experience.

"Jaskier!" Geralt shouted through the trees. The wind was picking up, a storm looming on the horizon. "Jaskier, where are you?" he called again, his voice rough with frustration and worry.

Jaskier—his beautiful, infuriating, perfect soulmate—was out here somewhere, lost in the mountains and forests surrounding Kaer Morhen. And all because Geralt had been too much of a fool to say something sooner.

After what felt like hours of yelling, a faint voice finally reached him.

"Over here, Geralt."

The bard’s voice was smaller than usual, almost meek. Geralt followed the sound and found him sitting against a tree, clutching his ankle. Even in the dim light, he could see the swelling.

"The snow covered the root—I didn't see it," Jaskier murmured, wincing. "I think my leg is broken."

"Let me see," Geralt said, kneeling. Jaskier hesitated before finally letting him touch his leg.

"Good news," Geralt said after a moment, his tone lighter. "It’s not broken. Just a bad sprain. There are plenty of beds at Kaer Morhen where you can rest." He reached to lift Jaskier, only for the bard to shove him away.

"I'm not going back," Jaskier snapped.

"You’ll freeze to death out here," Geralt argued.

"Better than having my heart broken over and over again when you get bored of me," Jaskier shot back, his voice shaking.

Geralt froze. Then, softer this time, he said, "I love you. I'm not going to break your heart." A pause. "Not ever again."

Jaskier turned away. "You love the idea of having a soulmate," he whispered. "You don’t even know me."

What he didn’t see was Geralt moving his fingers.

"Sleep," Geralt murmured, using Axii to lull him into unconsciousness.

As Jaskier’s body went slack, Geralt scooped him up with a sigh, holding him close against the cold.

"I’ll love you," he murmured, pressing his forehead to Jaskier���s temple. "Or any version of you. As long as you’re not frozen."

[ammarettu]

please pleaseeeeee please please please give us a part 3 to true hate's kiss i NEED a resolution im obsessed 🙏

Your wish is my command.

Parts 1 and 2

Part 3 under the break

He dithers at the edge of the stage for just a moment, hesitates, until Valdo forcefully shoves him back into the crowd.

He doesn't want to think about what will happen now, his hands have a tremble to them that make him almost wonder if he could claim to be ill again just to keep him. He wonders if Geralt will notice if he just... follows him out of the party and into his camp and just... stays there.

He groans, of course Geralt would notice. He's already annoyed the poor man enough. Fuck. What does he even say now? Should he say anything? Should he just leave and save Geralt the trouble?

He nabs a cup of wine from an unsuspecting bystander who huffs at him in disapproval. He tosses it back in one fluid motion, then glances over to where Geralt was only to find the Witcher absent from the space.

Jaskier's heart somehow plummets and rises into his throat all at once, his pulse throbs in his fingers. Of course Geralt would leave the moment the curse was broken. Why the fuck would he stick around? Jaskier's already been enough of a burden on him, even before this whole fiasco, he couldn't have honestly expected, or even hoped, for Geralt to stick around.

He asks someone if they saw where the Witcher went, alright he asks several people, but none saw him leave. He slipped out silently, or whatever. Likely to avoid Jaskier trying to trail after him like he always used to.

Jaskier takes a breath, closes his eyes in an attempt to calm himself and force the tears back - it doesn't work. He gets drunk instead.

-

Geralt flees, you know, like a coward.

He can't describe the rush of feeling that floods through him when he hears Jaskier's voice again for the first time in... too long. He'd gotten so used to having that voice at his side, encouraging him, complimenting him, and just generally being a light that was far too bright for this world. For Geralt's world, dark and dripping with blood and hatred.

And hearing him speak again wrenches at something in his chest that he doesn't want to dwell on. Something raw and painful. He thought when he heard that voice again he could have atoned for all the cruel shit he'd spewed, merciless and without truth.

He can't bear to stick around and hear that voice turn on him the same way he'd done to Jaskier. Can't bear to hear the words of hatred he's so used to hearing from every other human pour like vitriol from such sweet lips-

Can't bear the rejection.

It's pathetic, after all he's put the bard through, all he's said, how he's certain his own words felt to Jaskier, who feels everything so deeply. But he is pathetic, and a coward, so he runs.

He finds himself down one of the estate's many long halls, golden filigree doors lining the walls. He'd intended to go outside, kind of. He hadn't really been paying attention, more concerned with simply moving away, but he'd hoped he might just end up outdoors.

Still, it's better than nothing. He pushes open a door, finding a large bedroom on the other side, and closes it behind him.

He sighs and flops onto a red velvet armchair, burying his head in his hands.

It's been a long day. A long week. It's been strange, as nice as it was having Jaskier back at his side the lack of noise usually associated with the bard still being absent was off-putting and wrong.

He takes a minute to recenter himself. To get used to being alone again. He curls into himself, resting his head on his forearms, on his knees, and firmly does not cry. He doesn't.

He also doesn't lose track of time, nor is he startled when there is a noise in the hall, giggling and shuffling footsteps - a thump, someone is pushed against the door to the room in which Geralt has taken residence. He stumbles to his feet, hears a moan past the door and moves to the window to calmbor out (the sun has set now, several hours have passed since he entered) - his medallion shudders in it's place against his chest. A warning. He pauses, he hasn't a choice, whatever is waiting outside the doors is a monster of some kind about to feast. A bruxa, knowing their affinity for alcohol infused blood.

"I wasn't expecting to find you here tonight," a female voice mutters, "Imagine my delight and surprise."

"Mm, I'm about to delight you even more."

Geralt almost fucking trips over his own feet as he glides across the room towards the door. The second voice is Jaskier's. As badly as he wants to turn on his heel and leave, his cowardice returning with a burning vengeance, he can't. Not if-

"And what of your Witcher? Will he not be joining us?"

Jaskier huffs a little laugh, "Geralt isn't my anything," Geralt winces at the coldness in his tone, "Anyways, he left."

"He'd just leave you here alone?" He hears Jaskier take a shuddering breath, hears the unbuttoning of his doublet.

"Course he would," Jaskier mutters, "He hates me."

Geralt blinks. That- Jaskier can't possibly think- but then again Geralt has always been rather cruel. It makes sense, he supposes, that he'd think Geralt hates him, especially after the mountain. But he was certain that the hatred was more than a little directed back at him.

"And yet you love him still?" The woman taunts, "How admirable."

Geralt wants to laugh at the absurdity. Jaskier doesn't love him, he hates him. He made that clear when he came to him to break a curse that could only be broken by kissing someone he hated. He waits for the refusal, but it never comes. Instead, Jaskier mutters, "Aren't you supposed to be distracting me? Making me forget?"

He can hear the grin when the woman, the Bruxa, replies, "Oh, darling, soon you won't remember a thing."

"What the fuck-" Jaskier gasps as the door handle moves, he's shoved inside, the Bruxa stepping in after him all feral eyes, fanged teeth and clawed hands. The door opens inwards, blocking line of sight between the newest occupants and the Witcher pressing himself to the wall as the vampire lurches towards Jaskier. The door slams shut, and in less than a second Geralt has his silver drawn and cleanly through the Bruxa's neck. One motion. One swipe. She never even saw him. Neither did Jaskier, until the head is already rolling, and he's taking a breath in to scream.

Geralt is there in a flash, leather-gloved hand pressed firmly over the bard's lips, "It's me, Jaskier."

He's trembling, breath coming in short little puffs that make Geralt kind of worried he might pass out, but he moves carefully back away and says, "Geralt. You're still here."

His eyes are misty with tears and drink and Geralt finds himself sighing, fond.

"I'm here. We should go."

"You- we?"

"You want to stay in the room with a bloody corpse?"

"Well... no, but we should at least take her jewelry, don't you think? Those sapphires, Geralt! A travesty to leave them on the floor."

He rolls his eyes but allows it, if Jaskier wants some jewelry he's earned it. Plus it's kind of nice to see a little glimpse of the same hedonistic bard he's missed.

The sneak out of the manor, and into the stables to gather Roach. It's just easier. Sure the woman was a Bruxa, but she was still high society, and all the red tape and questions... Geralt shudders just thinking about it.

They end up in the forest under the stars just like they used to sleep, with Jaskier chattering away and a canopy of leaves swaying with the breeze.

Geralt will ask Jaskier tomorrow what the Bruxa meant about him loving him.

-

He doesn't ask. He can't make the words force themselves from his throat. Instead, he wakes early and makes them both breakfast like he used to, wakes Jaskier with gentle shakes and a cup of warm willow bark tea sweetened with just a bit of honey.

"Where are you off to now?" Jaskier asks him as they pack up, soft as a whisper.

Geralt pauses, glances to Jaskier, and takes a chance, "Always drowners along the coast," he says. Hears Jaskier swallow in response.

"Yeah?"

"Mm... Hear Kerack is pretty this time of year." A sharp intake of breath, Jaskier's heart beats so hard Geralt is pretty sure he could hear it even without his Witcher senses.

"Is that so?"

Geralt resumes what he was doing, tacking up Roach, pretends to be nonchalant, "The taverns there could probably use a bard," he says.

"Are you sure?" Jaskier's voice is shaking and Geralt hates how uncertain he sounds. How hopeful.

"Jaskier."

"Yes?"

Geralt turns, tilts his head to the side a bit, "Come to the coast with me."

A sheen forms on those gorgeous blue eyes, brought to life even more by the glittering sapphires he now wears on his ears and around his neck.

"Yes," he breathes, and Geralt smiles his response, holds out his hand, and hoists his bard up onto his horse.

[jdorian]

Radovid is just so eager to prove himself to Jaskier, he asks him to run away with him and when he says no he offers to come after him instead, in no matter what way he wants to be by his side.

And Jaskier isn't used to being on the receiving end of such devotion and is afraid to have his heart broken again, so no wonder he struggles to say yes, but still settles for a 'maybe', unable to say no and shut out the possibility completely.

[cailenbraern]

Not sure if I can fully articulate my thoughts about Jaskier’s growth as an artist throughout the seasons of The Witcher but I'm going to give it a go.

Because when we meet him in season 1 , he's more or less just starting out. He's fresh from Oxenfurt and determined to make a name for himself on the continent. The trouble is, he's got nothing to draw on. He's still young so his experience is negligible. He performs songs about monsters and creatures with little accuracy or meaning, and we meet him being jeered and pelted with food.

Meeting Geralt gives him a new inspiration for original songs, although he's not truthful, particularly in Toss a Coin. As Geralt said, that's not what happened, and Jaskier responds with respect doesn't make history. He's still too young and too inexperienced to realise what impact his songs can have, and he's solely determined to improve the reputations of Witchers along with his own reputation.

The two other songs in season 1 are Fishmongers Daughter, which I'm not going to discuss in any detail, and Her Sweet Kiss. Now one cane argue that the latter is heavily drawn from personal emotion and feeling, but the end result is a fairly normal ballad style of song with poetry as lyrics and vivid imagery and metaphors. It's a start, but Jaskier still has a long way to go.

Then we get to season 2, where we find Jaskier in the early stages of recognition. We see him performing in a packed bar, with accompaniment, and the crowd are lapping it up. It helps that the song he's singing comes, as per his own words, from the heart. Burn Butcher, Burn is 100% emotion, 100% authentic, and gone is the poetry. The lyrics are raw and passionate.

Despite this, we're led to believe that he found his fame with The Golden One. In contrast with BBB, this song lacks any emotional punch. It's purely a story or anecdote set to music. A fun little ditty, but unless you can suspend your disbelief, if open to criticism. As happens when attempting to smuggle the Elves onto the ship.

Now, we know that at this point, Jaskier has done and seen and experienced far more things than he had in season 1, and this has left an impact on him. He has matured and developed his sense of empathy and his kindness so much more than the immature travelling bard showed in Posada, thanks tp witnessing the violence and persecution of the elves, while also dealing with his own broken heart. Yet he's still clinging on to his want and desire to be respected and applauded for his skill and talent in writing and singing songs, so we see that he does not take criticism well.

More happens in season 2 to shape and form him, Rience's torture for one, the massacre at Kaer Morhen, his friendship with Yennefer and his mending (such as it is) of his friendship with Geralt along with the continuing politics all across the continent.

I do have a soft spot for Whoreson Prison Blues. The first two verses are beautiful, followed by a very crude, very catchy chorus. I can't imagine he would include it in future sets, but it's so personal to him in that moment that I love it.

Little wonder that by Season Three, we are met with yet more changes in our bard. His words to Radovid stating that he doesn't 'do pretty' suggest to me that he has consciously decided to move away from filling his songs with poetry and imagery and is focused more on honesty and truth. Extraordinary Things which immediately follows is a perfect demonstration of Jaskier singing openly and from the heart.

But what I wanted to get to in this long winded post, is that this is the season we finally see the Emotional Impact Jaskier's songs have on other people. No criticisms, no jokes, just the power of his music.

Whatever your opinion on Radovid and his motivations, Extraordinary Things affected him. You can see this in his reaction as he hears it for the first time, and he so clearly can't get it out of his head after hearing it only one time, that he goes above and beyond to learn it.

Next is Ciri, and we see Jaskier singing a lullaby (which he may or may not have written himself, jury's out on that) to her. Later, in the desert, she sings the lullaby back to herself, drawing strength and courage from it. This power has been given by Jaskier through his singing, making her feel safe and loved in a vulnerable moment.

Finally, Eternal Flowers, which I'll say here, is the best I've ever heard Joey sing, both on the album version and in the live performance on the show. He has his lute, but he lays it down like laying down a weapon. It's just him, stripped bare, open, vulnerable, honest, true. This is not his song, but he feels the emotion and the message as thought it was. His empathy is shining. It moves him to tears, but not only him, the Dryads also feel the emotion he is channelling, and it moves them to tears.

I don't have much of a conclusion to this ramble, but TL;DR, Jaskier’s songwriting and art has evolved over the three seasons and his bardic power is a might force to be reckoned with. He will be remembered long after Valdo for his honesty and beauty.

Not pretty. Real.