#sad jaskier

In place of August Thirteenth, Promptapalooza 6/

Geralt has a contract but won't tell Jaskier anything about it. Nothing. "Geralt, come on! Is it big? Is it small? Does it have fangs? Is it venomous?" "Jaskier, just stop asking." "But how am I meant to be safe enough to gather inspiration if you won't even tell me what to look out for?" "Because you'll be staying here. Away from the hunt." "Wh- What?" It's been years since Geralt refused Jaskier's involvement in a hunt. "It's too dangerous." Jaskier stares at him a moment before just sighing and nodding. "You'd think he'd tell you of the dangers if he didn't want you to go for your own safety." Jaskier thinks, though it doesn't sound like his own voice. "Can't you tell me something about the creature if I can't come with?" "No, Jaskier." "He doesn't want to talk to you." Jaskier shakes the thought out of his head. "Just play for the bargoers again if you need something to do. I'll be back before sunup." And without further ado, Geralt grabs his supplies and stomps out. "They hated your last set, though, didn't they? You've put so much effort into pursuing this dream of yours, just to get vegetables and stale bread thrown at you. Only to get cursed off stages. Is that what you wanted? When you became a bard? When you left home? Did you risk your life to leave just to be stuck with an audience that doesn't want to listen?" Jaskier shakes his head. Stop. Stop thinking about this. "Not even Geralt listens to you. Your only friend. The only person who manages to deal with you doesn't even want to hear you." Jaskier starts tidying their inn room in a panic. He needs to get his mind off the sudden turn for the worst his thoughts are partaking in. Usually only things got this bad after a bad fight with Geralt. Then Geralt would apologize and- "But did he ever really mean it? Or does he just do it to placate you? The little overemotional bard weighing him down, dragging him back, ruining his li-" "BOOK. I- I need to read a book." Jaskier fumbles for something to read to try and get something new in his attention, but he can't even make out a sentence. The thoughts are getting louder. "Is there even a contract or did he just finally leave you behind? Jaskier's vision blurs and suddenly he realizes it's tears. He rubs his face vigorously to get rid of them. He'd hate for Geralt to come back and find him bawling. "That's when he'd leave you for sure. Pitiful excuse for a companion, crying because of his own thoughts. Geralt would be so annoyed. You're nothing but a burden to him. He hates you." Jaskier grabs his lute and hurriedly begins strumming the worst tune he's ever made in his life, because he just needs something louder than the thoughts. He just needs to hear something but the thoughts. "He'll never love you back. You stay, and you keep hoping, but he'll never love you." Jaskier drops his lute and covers his ears, starting to sob in earnest. "He's been gone too long. He ditched you. He took Roach and he left you. The pebble in his shoe. The constant irritation. You're nothing to him. You're a speck of mud dirtying his life. He begs the gods every night to be rid of you. Everyone begs the gods to be rid of you. Everyone wishes you'd just shrivel up and die. The useless bard." "Stop- Stopstopstop-" "All anyone wants is to fuck you, but is it because you're desirable or is it because you're just that easy? Like a damned cat in heat. They always leave you come morning, anyways. Even the ones you begged to stay. Even the ones you wanted something more with. Nobody wants you to stay. Nobody likes your voice, your supposed 'talents', nobody likes your looks, nobody likes your personality, nobody likes your soul, nobody wants your love, you're a crumbling stone about to bring down a whole tower. And every other stone will hate you for it. They'll hate you. They'll fucking HATE you. They all HATE you. Geralt HATES you. He hates you. He hates you. He hates you." "JASKIER!" Jaskier blinks his eyes open

and sees Geralt kneeling in front of him, holding Jaskier's face in his big, calloused hands. "Jaskier, stop listening to it!"

Geralt and Jaskier are best friends. Jaskier is in love with Geralt, and they both know it. But Geralt is emotionally unavailable, telling himself he is still in love with his ex Yen (but really he is just afraid to be hurt again and clinging to an old love he knows is safer than attempting a new one).

In a fit of self pity, Geralt and Jaskier falls in bed together. And keeps falling into bed.

Everybody is telling Jaskier not to do it, and everybody is telling Geralt he is playing with Jaskier’s feelings, that this is how he will lose him.

But Geralt doesn’t listen, because he thinks this is a good solution.

Eventually, Geralt starts to kiss Jaskier outside of bed,but shoves him away when it becomes to intimate, tog couple-y.

Jaskier tries to tell him. ”It’s not fair” and “It hurts me”. His heart is breaking in his chest and Geralt doesn’t want to se it.

So that is when Jaskier leaves. Properly putting distance between. And Geralt is alone and suddenly realizes the consequences of his actions.

He tells himself it doesnt matter. That wasn’t love. It was sex. They can stop having sex, still be friends.

But Jaskier doesn’t pick up the phone. Doesn’t open the door.

Maybe they say Jaskier is going on a business trip. And Geralt is forced to deal with what his life is like without his best friend by his side.

Several weeks pass like this, and finally Geralt breaks down to Yennefer. She tells him, he never loved her, just the thought of being with her. Still is. That he is a coward, that he never saw her when Jaskier was in the room.

Maybe Geralt gets brave and starts to talk to someone.

When Jaskier comes back, Geralt meets him by chance.

He asks to talk to him sometime. Just talk. Doesn’t say how much he misses him, doesn’t say how miserable he is without his friend.

When they meet, when Jaskier finally agrees to meet him over a coffee, their old coffee place, round tables and soft music and a cut barista, Geralt asks if he can try to be his friend. Not like he was. But like a proper friend.

Jaskier looks sad, tearing at the napkin, making small squares of it.

Geralt then… tells him that he is talking to someone. That he is working on himself, that he will try not to hurt them both again.

Jaskier tentatively agrees, and they meet up for more coffee. Goes to the zoo. Museums.

It takes them months to heal. A year until they feel like themselves again.

And another year of careful touches, leaning against shoulders, until Geralt dares to ask.

“Would I ruin everything if I asked you out? Properly?”

By now, Geralt has Ciri. They are not the same as they were.

The first date, it is much like any time they are out. The only difference is that Geralt asks to hold his hand.

They fall asleep together tangled on the couch, Jaskier thumbs away some whipped cream from the corner of Geralt’s mouth.

Falling back into bed together is both devastating and like coming home. Like healing.

Geralt stays until morning now, sometimes he even holds Jaskier as they sleep. But they both run hot, so it doesn’t last long.

In eight years time, Ciri makes Geralt propose. Two years later they marry, Jaskier’s best man Valdo holding a terrible speech. He never did well with talking in front of people.

Thank you for the prompt! 🌼 Sorry it’s quite late but please enjoy this tiny piece of pining on this fine Friday.

(1.3k, geraskier, slow dancing, drunk jaskier, protective geralt, no warnings.)

“Oh, Geralt! Fancy seeing you here!” Jaskier exclaims, as if they didn’t come to the banquet together.

The bard reaches Geralt’s table and sweeps away his ale in one swift motion before chugging it all down. When he finally puts down the tankard, Geralt finds himself the recipient of the bard’s most charming and yet most performative smile.

Jaskier is nervous.

“Phew!” His hands flail dramatically. “Fine evening, isn’t it?”

Geralt hums, waiting for the catch.

“Let’s dance!”

Without getting a reply, Jaskier is already dragging Geralt up from his seat. With all the wine and ale in his system, Jaskier’s hold is not strong enough to manhandle a bulky witcher, but they end up at the edge of the dance floor anyway.

Jaskier’s warm palms rest flush against Geralt’s waist, and their faces are only a hand’s breadth away. Geralt can feel the heat on the bard’s flushed cheeks and hear the pounding of his heart in the din of the room. They sway to the gentle music.

It’s…close, too close. Geralt needs a distraction.

“What’s the catch, Jask?”

The bard scoffs, almost offended. “Do I require a reason to dance with you? Or am I not allowed to just enjoy quality time with my favorite witcher?”

Geralt simply lifts an eyebrow.

“All right. You are too smart for your own good.” Jaskier chews on his lips, again, nervously. “There is this one gentleman, who may have been too eager for my…company, despite my explaining of the situation.”

“Which is?”

“That I’m in love and thus unavailable?” Jaskier says as if it’s obvious. Geralt frowns with worry.

“Still?” the witcher asks quizzically. “Valdo left nearly a year ago, Jaskier. It isn’t healthy.”

That is the wrong thing to say because Jaskier flinches at the name. Hurt flashes across those cornflower blue eyes, and Jaskier looks too dejected, too similar to how Geralt found him at his worst, in pain and alone and roaring drunk. He never wants to see Jaskier like that again.

“Well, no matter,” Jaskier chuckles tightly. “It’s not like the guy took the hint and left me alone, so I had to improvise. Now, before you give me another lecture or something, you need to know that I had no choice but to—”

“What did you do?” Geralt lets the music and the crowd lead the two of them around the dance floor, careful not to bump into another couple.

The bard regains his balance, looking contrite.

read on ao3 CW: Talk of dead parents, grieving and mourning, sadness

Jaskier is grieving his dead mother and Geralt tries to be there for him (1k)

---

When Geralt neared the clearing he saw Jaskier rummaging through their bags with his back to him. “Getting ready for the feast?” he asked as he dumped the pile of firewood on the ground.

“No,” Jaskier said. 

Geralt frowned and turned around. Something was off. He had expected to find Jaskier to be busy choosing his outfit for the local spring feast that was dedicated to love and well…something right up Jaskier’s alley, but the bard was uncharacteristically quiet and the colors of his outfit were too dull for the occasion.

And then it hit him - the salty smell of tears. 

“Jaskier?” he said a bit unsure, “what happened?”

With a sharp intake of breath Jaskier shook his head and said, “Geralt... I’m... everything is fine.”

Oh Comfy, you always come to my aid with the best ideas and prompts. Thank you, boo.

I’m goofin’ with the lore a little so if Amaryllis wouldn’t actually poison Geralt canonically... deal with it for the sake of my whumpy fluff.

Poem is Sonnet 98 by my boy Willy Shakes (the OG Bard).

tw: poison, whump with a fluffy ending

---

“Shit,” Jaskier mutters, flinging his empty bag to the side in his haste. His hands dig through one of Roach’s saddlebags, then the other. “Where the fuck is it!? Where is it!?”

“J-Ja-”

“Hush, Geralt,” the bard orders with what little breath he has. He’s trying with all his might not to let the tears clouding his vision fall but it’s too late for that; he’s already a mess. Geralt is lying there, barely conscious, his skin as cold as death, and all Jaskier can do is panic and stumble around the campsite in search of some Swallow. “Fuck me, where is that blasted potion?!”

“Jaskier,” the Witcher whispers. “All gone.”

“What do you mean all gone?!”

“None left. Stock up.”

“Fuck! Fuck!” he cries. “I’m not going to lose you like this! Not like this, to something so stupid.”

okay but what if Geralt didn’t regret what he said atop the Mountain and believed he was in the right?? and then he meets up with Jaskier again, no apology, thinks all is well and good and that Jaskier just got over it because it “was nothing, Jaskier always forgives me, i didn’t say anything that wasn’t true??” and insists on bringing him to Kaer Morhen because he is a person of interest for Nilfgaard and could give up sensitive information about witchers and Geralt’s child surprise 

that’s all. he doesn’t give Jaskier reason to believe he wants Jaskier there for any other reason, only so that he doesn’t turn into a snitch 

and Jaskier is just crushed. he didn’t expect a heartfelt apology from his witcher, he knew his witcher wasn’t one for words, but he had thought Geralt would feel guilty about it. but Geralt just brushing it off as if nothing happened? Jaskier feels equal parts miserable and enraged 

“it was just a stupid fight -” 

“what fight?! there was no fight! it was you, on that that mountain, yelling at me! i had no part in it. i had no say. you’ve treated me like shit this entire time and i never took anything out on you. there was no fight because it was only you hurting me” 

voices cracking, lots of tears and feels 

Post-mountain incident, Jaskier is a heart broken mess. The last thing he needs is an unexpected visit from Geralt. 

I have accepted that it’s never going to be the same amount of words as I Find you all Unwoven, cause I re-wrote this three times and it just doesn’t happen.

Again, I was sad, that’s my excuse. English is not my first language, hope it doesn’t terribly suck! 

***

It hurt a great deal when Jaskier sold his lute. He was attached to it for more than just sentimental reasons. Sometimes he felt like his life truly started the day he got that lute.

He was used to pain by now though, pain was just another thing creeping under the surface, it came and went in waves like the ocean, sometimes threatening to overwhelm him with memories and sometimes resting among the broken pieces of his heart, hissing like a snake waiting to strike.

It was always there, he just perceived it in different ways: some days it was like being on the edge of an empty abyss of nothingness, about to fall but never really tipping over, just going through the motion. Other times, there were the long nights when sleep refused to visit him and he'd get this urge under his skin, to move, to do something, anything to not feel trapped in his own flesh, caged by his own mind.

He tried to fight insomnia with the ink, but he proved a terrible fighter. He couldn't write anything anymore. When he tried to play, his fingers seemed to have a mind of their own, and he'd get even the simplest of melody wrong, resulting in endless frustration that kept him up until dawn.

As much as he tried to outrun his ghost, he always ended up running right into it, and if he managed to keep his waking hours relatively Geralt-free, the dreams were always there. His journals paid the price of waking up for the hundredth time, after a nightmare that leaves him choking and incapable to stop the tears from falling down his cheeks.

He thought he'd feel relieved after watching it crackle and burn to ashes, as if destroying the evidence of his time with the Witcher could also destroy the heartache that came with it, but it doesn't work like that. Nothing he ever does stops him from being hollow.

Jaskier walks around the Academy like a shadow, trying to keep himself busy between lessons or at least trying to keep Geralt out of his thoughts. This simple task proved to be more complicated than he anticipated. He doesn't want to be here, he's not made for teaching and his students get on his nerves all the time. To be fair, most things get on his nerves since the mountain incident, but he doesn't have many options.

Sure, he could go home to his family, beg their forgiveness and implore his father to allow him back into court. That sounded as promising as jumping off a bridge.

Compared to that, even the room Madame M. offered him at the brothel looked like a golden palace. At least he had some talent for sex, he managed to convince even a Witcher to sleep with him, that hadn't been easy.

Jaskier stirs his mind in a safer direction, cause thinking about those nights will not do him any good. He still blames and curses himself for coming up with that stupid arrangement, cause why not Geralt, I'm here all the time, and I'm obviously very willing, besides you don't have to pay me, looks like a win-win situation to me. Looks like you're a special kind of idiot, Jaskier, that's what you are. Why did Geralt even accept anyway?

Jaskier blinks the memories away and focuses on trying to have lunch, cause that's what sane, normal people do. He's still struggling with normal though.

His plan flew out of the window when someone started to sing. Jaskier froze in his spot when he recognized the song. He wrote that. He should be pleased to hear it, but it's not pride he feels when he glances in the direction of the curly-haired boy in green velvet.

He will never play or sing another song again, and people will forget him sooner than Geralt did. The folks in this tavern don't know him, they don't know he wrote those lyrics to distract himself the first night Geralt didn't come back from a hunt and he feared for him every second of that dreadful night.

He spent hours cursing the Gods for making him so useless and prayed to them in the same breath, begging for their mercy. He felt stupid later, when Geralt showed up at dawn saying it took him longer than expected to break a curse. Jaskier told the Witcher how scared he had been and Geralt dismissed him as the fool he was.

He's scared of being forgotten, of being meaningless and unimportant. No one is going to remember Jaskier, the bard that traveled the continent with the White Wolf and shared his adventures.

He left Jaskier on top of that mountain, he's just Julian now, just a teacher, just another idiot that got his heart broken. Geralt left him like everyone else. That's what people do, they just leave and move on with their lives. So why couldn't he move on too?

There's a small shift in the air, and while he tries to regain control of his thoughts, for some unknown reason, destiny, the universe, life or the Gods, make him turn his head toward the entrance.

There is no mistaking the white hair he sees, or the dark armour. Jaskier knows he has to leave before Geralt sees him. The sole idea of Geralt being here is enough to leave him shaking.

What are the chances of meeting the Witcher outside Oxenfurt? There were no contracts in town, why was fate trying his best to mess with his life today, was the song not enough? He feels like his head is swimming and he knows he doesn't have time to panic cause his heart beats so loudly he fears Geralt will spot it in a second.

He puts some coins in the maid's hand and stumbles out of the place.  

He can't face him. Not today. Probably not ever, cause he can't imagine he'll ever be ready to face the one that broke his heart without holding any anger or resentment towards him. Why must he feel like this, Geralt never cared for him, so why is he still drowning in his feelings for the idiot?

Tonight it's jaskier lying his head in Yennefer's lap while she runs soft hands through his hair and Geralt massaging his back getting all the knots out from carrying the lute case everywhere. Jaskier's silent warbly tears cut through the whispers of we love you and he clutches handfuls of Yennefer's clothes. His body shakes as anxiety and stress roll off of it.