#angry jaskier

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

Hello, sweetheart! I have a prompt for you ❤️ Geralt has chronic pains since the mutations. Sometimes he can't get up, because everything hurts so much. Sometimes he does not eat for days (weeks...), because he cannot go out hunting. As the years have passed, he has managed to mask the pain on his face. Nobody needs to know. His brothers have already looked for a cure, but the potions only ease the pain for a few hours. +

+ When Jaskier started following the witcher on the path, whenever the pain became unbearable, Geralt told him that he had picked up a contract. A contract that would perhaps take days. And then he went into the forest as far away as possible, so that no one would be able to hear his cries of pain.+

+Jaskier knew he was lying. But he just didn't know what he was lying about. Until one day, tired of this situation (he's his best friend, for God's sake!), Jaskier decides to go after Geralt and find out what's going on. You can change anything you want ❤️

BAAAAAAABBBBEEEE 

listen I lived the chronic pain life for a while and if someone would have just told me to shut the fuck up and confront the problem things would have been WAY easier lmao 

Warnings: Lots of swearing. ye ole self-depreciation. chronic pain.

__________

His back had ached for the last six decades; this sort of twisting torment was nothing new. His second round of trials had induced horrible spasms and, according to Vessimir, Geralt had broken the restraints usually used for young witchers and damn near writhed off the table before the sorcerers had restrained him. He hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in sixty years because of it.

Eskel and Lambert had sourced out different potions and spells over the years, sometimes putting him under Axi just so he can sleep despite his body, but with the extra mutations came heightened adaptability. If he took any potion too frequently it stopped working, used any spell too often it would barely touch him. While this made his job much easier, and much safer, he was in a never-ending nightmare of shooting and radiating stabbing pain emanating from various points in his spine. It was worse than any stab wound or monster bite he’d ever endured on the bad days, a dull throb on the good days. 

Traveling with Jaskier was surprisingly helpful in this aspect. He made it easier to get rooms with real beds and didn’t care that Geralt’s limbs draped over him in the only comfortable sleeping position he could find most nights. He insisted on getting Geralt hot baths he would never be offered on his own and once blackmailed someone into letting Geralt into a sauna. Of course, Geralt had never told him, there was no point, but having an advocate when he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, defend himself was nice. 

However, as with most things in Geralt’s life, things eventually went to shit. A fall off a two-story roof chasing a vampire the week before had depleted the few potions Eskel had scrounged up for him last they spoke and, bed or no bed, there was no way Geralt could stay with the bard and pretend he was fine. The longer he tried the more explosive his behavior, and well that wasn’t fair was it?

He had gotten up early, before the pain had time to settle in the pit of his stomach and make him nauseous, to head off to the foothills. Giving Jaskier a lie about a contract a town over and meeting up later, he headed to collect Roach and disappear. 

Mounting was a miserable affair, even with a hay bail to help him up. His leg nearly gave out from what felt like one of Yennefer’s electric shocks running the length of the limb before he had the bulk of his weight over the saddle. But once he was on, he was relatively fine. Not trotting fine, but comfortable enough to go at a steady pace out of town without groaning or screwing up his face in agony. It wouldn’t do to scare the townsfolk if he wanted to come back and collect his bard. 

He let Roach meander as far as she wanted off the road running parallel to a stream, letting her choose where they’d be camping for the night once they were far enough from civilization. 

He hated doing this, letting his guard down and in the wilderness no less, but he was holding himself upright on the pommel by the time Roach found a sandy bank next to the stream. He practically fell out of the saddle, unbuckling the girth and giving its bulk just enough of a tug to let it fall off the mare’s back. Even the little effort put into untacking was agony, but he needed his bedroll off the saddle and Roach needed a break. He collected the wood he would need for a fire before he let himself rest, knowing that as soon as he stopped moving the muscles would tighten and cramp up, making it impossible to move until morning. 

He was peeling his shirt off ever so gingerly when he heard a twig snap. Dropping the garment back over his shoulders he gingerly turned to peer into the woods in the sound’s direction. If something or someone came upon him now he was at their mercy unless he could muster enough energy for a sign. 

“A contract, huh?” Jaskier stepped out of the treeline with his arms crossed and a surprisingly parental look of disappointment on his face.

Geralt relaxed a little, plastering the mask of calm on his face as he got back to tugging his shirt over his head, “You followed me?”

Jaskier deflated, dropping his bag and lute next to Roach’s tack as he moved to help Geralt out of his clothes, “I knew you were hiding something from me, but this? Geralt? How long have you been injured?”

The witcher laughed, wincing at the dull ache through his entire torso from the previous effort of keeping himself in the saddle, “Half a century? Give or take.”

“What?” Jaskier sounded offended, why was he offended?

Geralt just grunted, clenching his jaw to keep from yelling as he stood and waded into the stream of snowmelt. All the air left his lungs when he lowered himself into the freezing water, but as it lapped over his back and sometimes even his shoulders he felt a small bit of relief. Being able to lean back a bit and be supported by the current was almost intoxicating after all his muscles had nearly turned to stone over the course of the week.

Jaskier was now standing at the bank with his arms crossed and a look of fury on his face, “I’m your best fucking friend- don’t look at me like that we’re using the ‘f’ word today- and you tried to hide a debilitating long-term injury? Geralt what the fuck?”

“I didn’t want to bother you.” Geralt huffed, doing his best not to get angry. He hurt and he was vulnerable and Jaskier was using the ‘f’ word and getting his hopes up.

“Oh shove it up your arse. You make everything else my problem, why not this?” Jaskier was on the verge of yelling and Geralt still couldn’t figure out why. 

Geralt stared forward in silence, calmly noting his hands shaking from the cold, or maybe it was the pain, he didn’t really know. 

Jaskier swore and turned to rummage through their things, arranging and rearranging things as he waited for Geralt to get out. 

However, Geralt didn’t want to get out. He wanted to be left alone to be miserable in peace. He wanted to have one fucking day where he didn’t have shooting pain running through most of his body. Long ago he’d given up hope of a day free of pain, now he just wished for an aching sensation rather than this bullshit. He also found he was liking the water. It wasn't as cold as it first was and his breath was coming easier. 

Jaskier rolled up his trousers and waded out to the middle of the stream where he sat, “C’mon Geralt, you can’t stay here all night. You’ll die.”

Geralt frowned up at him, “I like it in here. Hurts less.”

“Dumb Fuck, you’re turning blue. Out. Now.” Jaskier held a hand out and Geralt found raising his arm was nearly impossible. He got it about halfway to the bard’s palm before he stalled out, shaking and staring at his hand in horror. 

“I- Jask I can’t-”

Jaskier sighed, “You’re damn near hypothermic, here.” He reached down and hauled the witcher out of the stream, ignoring his grunts of pain as he walked him back to the fire he’d started. Jaskier went about stripping his soaked pants off, toweling him off with his old shirt, and redressing him all while glaring at him. Jaskier made him sip some boiled water before he bundled the both of them in one bedroll, wrapping himself around the still shivering witcher as completely as possible.

“Th-thank you.” Geralt gasped as Jaskier angrily shoved his arm beneath Geralt’s lower back, the warmth alone was lovely but something about the way his spine laid over the extra bulk was even better.

“You’re welcome.” Jaskier growled, head tucked into Geralt’s chest, “I’m still furious with you. It’s been over a decade and you didn’t think to tell me?” 

Geralt swallowed back tears as he felt some of the tension ease in his back, “No one else really cares…”

Jaskier tilted his chin up to look at the witcher like he was sprouting a horn out of his forehead, “The fuck do you think I’m doing here? You think I enjoy being run out of towns and almost dying every other day? Shit, Geralt, you’re smart but sometimes you’re fucking thick.”

If it wouldn’t have hurt Geralt would have playfully smacked his shoulder, but moving any part of his body was a risk at the moment, “Thought you liked the adventure.”

“No, dumbass. I care about you. A lot.” Jaskier settled his head back down over Geralt’s chest, “In the morning I’m taking you to a healer. Or a sorcerer or mage or anyone who will give us answers.”

“Julek…”

“Shut the fuck up and sleep. Cute nicknames won’t get you out of this one. I’m still furious.”

[yuko27]

I try not to use so obvious refs, but when I saw this photo I couldn’t resist!!!  😇 😈 😉  

Frying pan is a deadly weapon XD

[jaskier-cult]

it was just a fight

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 

imagine the ANGST 

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

Fae Villain Jaskier! He's pushed over the edge by the mountain and he is going to get what he deserves.

Oh this could go so many cool places, dude

---

The blue of Jaskier’s eyes has always been bright and warm and welcoming

Like the gently dawning sunshine of early spring

Now that blue is hot, electric; a shade so deep and terrifying that it feels like Geralt is drowning in it

“Oh no, Witcher,” says this strange, angry Jaskier, This being whose feet dangle several inches above the ground as it floats closer to Geralt, “We’re not going to play this game again.”

“J-Jaskier?” 

But the bard has never given the Witcher his True Name

He can still win this game, he can still have what he’s rightfully earned

“We have eaten from each other’s plates. We have slept on each other’s pillows. I have your blood in my veins just as you have my blood in yours. We are one soul. We are one heart. How dare you say these things to me?!”

And the Faerie, whose life has never been more interesting than when he’s with the Witcher, takes back what’s his.

Half of his soul has been ripped away. His heart has been crushed.

“If you cannot learn to speak to me truthfully in one year’s time,” the Faerie says as he settles his hand, cold and dangerous, over Geralt’s slowly-racing heart, “Then they shall turn to stone within your chest. Your heart will be marble. Your eyes shall be pearls. If I cannot hold you in my arms as my lover then you shall decorate my garden as a statue.”

And with that

The irises made only of sparking blue energy

Are gone

And Geralt sits alone on the side of the mountain, his eyes watery and his throat dry

[witchersjaskier]

let me try and be better

“If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands!”

For a second, Jaskier stares at Geralt’s back, shocked and hurt. He almost starts crying, opens his mouth to say some meek goodbyes, but then he remembers. He’s Julian Alfred fucking Pankratz and he is not about to take all this shit.

He looks around and grabs a thick branch he sees on the ground, before whacking Geralt on the head with it. Jaskier’s surprised that it even worked but it must be all that brooding taking the Witcher’s attention.

“Fuck!” Geralt yells, turning around in fury and he’s just about to open his mouth again when Jaskier smacks him again. He knows it’s just because he stunned the man but it still feels good.

“Oh no, Witcher, you shut the fuck up now!” he yells, making use of his musicians lungs. “10 years of always fucking insulting me and treating me like dirt and I stuck with you, and I will NOT take this from you now. What are you, 12? Are you going to cry and blame your horse for what happened just because she rode your fat ass here?! Hm? Is it everyone else’s fault but yours that you’re here now? Oh no, your girlfriend broke up with you and you have a Child Surprise because you thought you were too good for the Law of Surprise to take. You’re one dumb fucker, Geralt, but you will NOT be blaming me for what happened.”

The Witcher opens his mouth again but Jaskier can see that he’s more hesitant now.

“I said quiet!” he snaps again. “You can stand here and brood all fucking day for all I care, but I’m talking Roach and we’ll be waiting for you in the camp at sundown. The only words I’ll be hearing from you, Geralt of Rivia, will be apologies for treating me like shit and blaming me for everything.”

With that, Jaskier turns around, finds Roach and jumps into the saddle. The horse lets him easily and when the bard nudges her gently, she starts trotting. They leave the shocked Witcher behind.

Jaskier’s hands are clenched tight on the reins and he’s muttering to himself.

“That stupid asshole, thinking he can just say things like that to me, as if we didn’t spend 10 years together! 10 years and not even saying I’m his friend, how fucking dare he?! Your master is an idiot and an asshole, Roach, you deserve better,” he says to the horse.

Roach snorts quietly and slowly, Jaskier calms down. He's still hurt, his very heart aching, but his not so furious now. He really expects Geralt to apologize and yeah, it's a bit much to expect from a cold brooding Witcher, but Jaskier deserves it.

He deserves some damn effort and this is as good a time as any.

When they arrive at the camp, he takes care of Roach and sits down with his lute and a notebook, before getting lost in the words and music.

It's hard not to write anything about his broken heart, but Jaskier will not cry and whine about some damn Witcher. Not yet anyway.

He talks to Roach, sings about the sunset, and when it starts getting dark, Jaskier hears heavy steps. He doesn't turn around, letting Geralt come closer, and the silence is tense.

“Jaskier…” the Witcher starts, but he stays stubbornly silent. He already said his piece. “I really am sorry.”

Jaskier scoffs. “Do you say this because I told you to?”

He can see how Geralt frowns, his shoulders suddenly dropping. “No, I say this because I was wrong. I…thought about what you said and I-”

It's clear that Geralt doesn't have much experience communicating with others, but Jaskier is not about to make it easier for him. He's hurt, his very heart is bleeding and the Witcher can put some effort in his attempts.

“I wanted to say some of it just after the djin,” Geralt admits finally, and this time Jaskier perks up at looks at him. “It's basically my fault that you almost died and my last words to you would've been an insult. It made me- it made me think, and I didn't like what I came up with.”

More silence, and the sun finally sets. Jaskier, somehow, feels even more vulnerable in the dark.

“I was a shit friend, Jaskier, and I'm sorry. I hurt you and I insulted you and you deserve better. I'm sorry.”

Jaskiwd takes a deep breath and then deflates. He really didn't expect a whole apology from the Witcher, much less one as…good as this one.

“Guess you'll just have to try and be better,” he finally comments. “It won't be as easy as it used to be.”

It's a warning, but Geralt gives him a small smile. “Let's hope I manage.”

“Let's.”

6 months later they're sitting in a room, Jaskier strumming on his lute absently, the Witcher watching him. He can feel Geralt's eyes on him, but he's not unsure, not anymore.

It appears that when Geralt tries, he really tries. It's not an immediate progress, not by a long shot, but after 6 months Jaskier knows that things will just get better. Geralt is…more now. Still grumpy and prickly, but acting like a friend.

He's gentle, more attentive and Jaskier certainly doesn't hate it, because he's warmer and less tired now. Sometimes, the Witcher even answers and with time, it's easier and easier to actually hold a conversation with the man.

Jaskier feels good.

He's thinking about one rhyme or the other when Geralt suddenly stands up. He glances at the man and goes back to his work, but then the Witcher drops to his knees in front of Jaskier, and the bard freezes.

“Geralt?” he asks quietly, unsure what's going on. The Witcher looks nervous for once, and that's very new.

Geralt stays quiet for a while, before carefully raising a hand and laying it on Jaskier's cheek. The bard's heart starts racing, eyes wide, and when the Witcher kisses him, he almost melts into the other man.

Geralt gathers him close, against his chest, arms wrapped around Jaskier's shoulders and he lets his hands rest on his back, rubbing it.

“Took you long enough,” he mutters against Geralt's surprisingly soft lips, smiling.

The Witcher pulls away for a second to look him straight in the eyes and say, “I love you.”

And well, there's nothing left to say but return the confession.

[tobiboonethesmallspoone]

When the Witcher Came Back

Jaskier stopped dead in his tracks when his eyes met those of a familiar monster hunter for hire, he was about to duck out the back way but yellow eyes met his blue ones and the bard knew there was no avoiding this. 

“Jask-” Geralt started toward him, a smile trying to exist on his face.

Jaskier stepped back, “What do you want, Geralt?”

Geralt stopped and cleared his throat, “I know we didn’t part on good terms-”

“You told me everything bad that happened to you was my fault.” Jaskier said softly and turned to leave out the back again. Geralt didn’t stop him but he did follow which was probably the worse outcome.

“You, uh, you remember tha-” 

Jaskier stopped after making it to the back alley, “Remember? I’ve been trying my best to forget, Geralt. What do you want?”

Geralt closed the door behind them and shifted his weight, “I . . . I haven’t heard the song in a while.”

“Haven’t much felt like singing for you.” Jaskier stared out toward the street, watching the few denizens of this backwater village milling about.

“I . . . I suppose that’s my own doing.” Geralt murmured.

“You suppose do you?” Jaskier asked softly, his fist clenching at his side, “What do you want, Geralt?”

Geralt tried to reach out to him but the bard pulled away, “I’m sorry.”

Jaskier visibly stiffened, bristling angrily and he turned around, “You’re . . . you’re sorry? Really? You? You’re sorry? For what?”

Geralt frowned, “Quite a bit, actually.”

“Name them.” Jaskier said through clenched teeth, his throat jumping as he tried to keep the anger alive, anger he’d felt from the moment he’d run down the whole damn mountain, forsaking any story he might have gotten from the adventure to go and sit alone to sob uncontrollably then disappear for a while.

Geralt faltered and cleared his throat, “I’m sorry for what I said and I’m sorry for taking my anger out on you . . . “

“What else?” Jaskier asked, crossing his arms over his chest and trying very hard to not look like he was holding himself together.

Geralt cocked his head slightly and furrowed his brow, “’Else’?”

Jaskier blinked at him, “ . . . You are really so fucking thick and up your own ass . . . “ The anger started to boil past the pain and the initial joy at seeing Geralt again, that the Witcher had sought him out, come looking for him, all of it burned and fell away leaving Jaskier as empty and angry as before, he took a step closer to Geralt, barely contained rage making him shake slightly, “I followed you on foot for ages writing away all the rumors and lies! Every time some bastard called you a ‘freak’ or ‘monster’, I came up with a flowery tale of your heroics! I followed you through some of the most dangerous, terrifying experiences of my life because I BELIEVED IN YOU!” He panted, tears now unable to be held back as he stared at Geralt, the Witcher did look well and truly cowed and wouldn’t make eye contact, “ . . . look at me, Geralt of Rivia.”

Geralt slowly lifted his gaze, “Jask . . . “

“I. Sang. For. You.” Jaskier hissed, he breathed in shakily and shook his head, “ . . . I gave you the only thing I could, I gave you my voice and you spat on it every fucking time! I let you too, I overlooked every time you insulted me or rolled your fucking eyes at me or told me to shut up, stop playing, stop singing, Jaskier, must you always make noise! Yes, Geralt, I do! It’s all I have to give anyone and I gave it all to you!” Jaskier was crying now, his whole body shaking as he pressed his hands to his face, “ . . . I never expected anything from you, I just . . . I just wanted to sing for you . . . “

Arms wrapped around him and Geralt held him tightly, Jaskier tried to push him away, tried to keep the anger inside him burning but it dissolved into a desperate bid to meld himself with the Witcher. The smaller man pressed his face into Geralt’s chest and he hugged onto him tightly while he poured out all the tears he been saving up. He felt Geralt’s hand sink in his hair and he was saying something but Jaskier couldn’t hear over his own carrying on. 

“I’m sorry . . . I’m so sorry . . . I didn’t think . . . “ Geralt murmured, “I stayed away . . . that was a mistake . . . I should have gone after you, it wasn’t you I was angry with, it was myself.”

“I loved you so much . . . I still do after all these years . . . I missed you so much . . . “ Jaskier whispered into the all too familiar black armor, staring at a line of stitching holding a tear together, he fingered it lightly, “W-What’s this from?”“

Geralt looked at the clumsily sown armor, “Warg pack at a battlefield, I was cleaning out ghouls and found Wargs instead.”

Jaskier snuffled and wiped at his face, “Bet it was dangerous and really annoying.”

“Oh it was,” Geralt murmured, “ . . . Jaskier?”

“Yes?” 

“I know i have no right to ask anything of you, I know that I owe you a lot more than I can ever pay you back, but . . . I need your help.” Geralt slowly pried himself away from Jaskier, he used the heel of his hand to gently wipe at Jaskier’s cheek.

Jaskier snuffled and huffed, “ . . . is it dangerous?”

“I don’t think so . . . do you remember an incident, say twelve years ago, involving a party, a princess, and a hedgehog?” Geralt grimaced.

Jaskier blinked and frowned, “The Law of Surprise . . . she found you.”

Geralt nodded, “We found each other but . . . I need your help, I don’t know what to do and you were . . . you were the first person I thought of.”

Jaskier snorted, rolling his eyes as he stepped away, “No I wasn’t.”

“First person I thought of who I could find,” Geralt amended, “I knew I could find you the easiest and . . . I hoped after apologizing and mending things, you’d come with me again.”

Jaskier stared at him for a moment, “ . . . I get to ride Roach, you still have her, right?”

“Of course.” Geralt nodded and held his hand out.

Jaskier’s attention dropped to the offered hand and he swallowed, “I need you to do two things for me first.”

“Anything.” Geralt said softly, taking a step closer.

“Tell me you love me.” Jaskier said softly, “If you really do, not just to pacify me but if you really care for me, tell me.”

Geralt blinked and swallowed, dropping his hand he moved closer and he cupped the Bard’s face in his hands. The rough pads of his fingers stroked over Jaskier’s cheek, feeling the laugh lines that hadn’t been there before and all he could think was all the smiles he missed, “I love you, Jaskier.”

Jaskier’s breath caught and he smiled tearfully, “I love you too . . . “

Geralt smiled that half-smile with lowered lids, “What’s the other thing?”

Jaskier took Geralt’s hand and lead him toward the stables, “I get to call you ‘Gerry Bear’.”

Geralt scowled and glared at the bard, “No.”

“You already agreed, Gerry Bear!” Jaskier said in a sing-song voice, skipping down the alley, he looked over his shoulder and the slight smirk on Geralt’s face made a song form in his heart, “You’re stuck with me now, my sweet Witcher.”

Geralt groaned but Jaskier could tell it was just a show.

[jaskier-cult]

post-mountain reunion

“Jaskier –”

Geralt expected a lot of things when he reunited with his bard.

He expected tears, or anger, or any amount of yelling. Perhaps Jaskier wouldn’t even give him the time of day; would just turn around the instant he laid eyes on him and walk away. 

In the end, he’s still surprised. 

One moment he is looking into blue, blue eyes, and the next he is staring up at the blue, blue sky. 

A sharp sting erupts in his jaw. 

Geralt crumpled to the ground and gazed up at his bard in shock and awe; Jaskier’s fist is a bright angry red, but not broken like it ought to have been. By the gods, his bard had a strong right hook. Geralt lost his breath as Jaskier’s blue eyes narrowed, and the bard sneered at the witcher.

“Fuck you.”

Geralt thinks he’s in love.

[jaskier-cult]

geraskier fight

“Now that I know you won’t die before me – might outlive me – it’s … different. I was just so scared of losing you before.”

“Even if I was going to grow old and die!” Jaskier said, shrill. “Even if that was the case, it still doesn’t make what you did justifiable. It doesn’t excuse anything!”

“I never wanted –”

“Intent doesn’t matter when the result is not the same,” Jaskier said, harsh. “From my standpoint, it sounds like you were saving your own ass. You were protecting yourself. And that’s not what I have a problem with. What I can’t let go is that you hurt me in the process. Hurting people is a choice, and you chose to hurt me.”

Geralt’s eyes were wet, and Jaskier deflated, anger settling down to a simmer. He only felt tired, now.

“No matter what would have happened, people come and go. Mortality, or immortality, doesn’t change that. That is the way of life. It’s give and take, Geralt. It’s balance. You’d think someone over a century old would have learnt that.”

He turned and left.