#I want a fic were Ciri and Jaskier talk about this and Geralt acknowledges that too

[aceofwhump]

Hi! Do you have any favourite recovery fics??? Like Buck recovering from any one of his mishaps (or Anthony Bridgerton, or Matt Casey, or Mike Warren, etc) where they cover the process (the part that shows always skip where in one ep things are absolutely fucked and in the next they’re absolutely fine I’m looking at you and your rebar 9-1-1)

Thanks!!!

I have a TON of good recovery fics. Recovery fics are some of my favorite things to read! Especially really long ones where the character is recovering from a trauma. If you don't mind other fandoms I've got a ton of recovery fics to rec. Not a lot for Anthony Bridgerton or Mike Warren in terms of recovery fics for canon whump sadly. Actually there's not a lot of recovery fics for them period. But I hope some of these other ones will sate you!

The Witcher:

Hold On by CaptainRex_ika

It has been months since that day on the mountain, a day that left Jaskier alone. Now, he finds himself a captive of Nilfgaard, who just want Geralt and that child surprise of his, and they believe Jaskier is the way to get the White Wolf's attention. After all, he is known as the Witcher's Bard. Jaskier believes that this time Geralt won't come for him...not after that day.

warming of a heart by Alexlively88

tws: A/B/O, past rape/non con, abortion/discussion of abortion, rape recovery

Killing a rusalka is just a normal day in Geralt's life. It's just his job. What isn't his job is rescuing abused omegas. He does it anyway. Or, Jaskier is done with life. To his disappointment, life isn't done with him just yet.

If You Ask Me for My Fire (Just Watch Me Burn) by DigitalSaiyan

tws: past rape/non con, rape/noncon, rape recovery,

Jaskier has zero intention of sharing the degrading experience of getting tortured. Ever. He’ll bury the memories and someday they’ll be as scabbed over as Caingorn was. Which had been completely, absolutely, fine. And the only reason that wound is bleeding a little now is because Geralt came out of nowhere—after the most humiliating experience of his entire life—and reopened it. But that’s fine because he’ll leave and return to the terror of his smuggling work and forget about Geralt all over again. There's nothing hard drink and the constant danger of execution won’t get his mind off. There’s something therapeutic about fearing for one’s life that makes anything not of immediate concern go away. So yes, things were just fine before Geralt showed up. Two years post-Caingorn, Geralt rescues Jaskier from jail and sends him with Ciri to Kaer Morhen. However, Geralt starts to suspect Jaskier is hiding serious trauma.

Panic Attacks by AllTheQueensHorses

Jaskier, captured by Nilfgaard and tortured for weeks, has panic attacks because no one knows where he is and no one is coming to rescue him. Basically a giant whump fic with plenty of angst and hurt but no comfort until later. Trigger warnings throughout the whole story for panic attacks.

Broken by GonEwiththeWolveS

In which Geralt finds out Jaskier was tortured. Or, the self-indulgent hurt/comfort fic.

What am I, if not a bard? by Mi_chan

Geralt knows something happened to Jaskier. He doesn't know the details, but he knows he needs to do something to help the bard. Jaskier is stubborn and refuses to talk to him. Geralt doesn't give up that easily, though. ~ Since the series totally downplayed Jaskier's trauma, here's the fix. The bard is hurting, he's scared and doesn't know what to do with himself, but Geralt is there, acknowledging his pain. ~

an incessant burning by 1derspark

“Jaskier,” Geralt prompted after a while. “Can you look at me?” He shook his head and hoped that his mumbled "no" would be heard. Geralt sighed but didn’t try to move him. His hand was running a comforting trail up and down Jaskier’s back. Eventually, he spoke again. “Yen, she told me some things, but I didn’t realize…” He trailed off, and Jaskier could hear him swallow. A click of guilt in the throat. He reached over to Jaskier’s arm. When he didn’t startle or protest Geralt took his arm. He rubbed a gentle finger over the wax burn. It was a barely-there thing, nothing to get all riled up about. But even having his arm exposed made Jaskier want to crawl into a hole. (Or Jaskier’s newfound aversion to fire, and the comfort he deserves.)

Hand in Trembling Hand by PenAndInkPrincess

“I’m sorry,” Jaskier whispers at last. Geralt shifts so he can look at him. “I’m sorry I’m…like this, now.” “You don’t have to be sorry.” (Jaskier has a hard path to walk while he's healing. Geralt and Yennefer help him with this part.)

Ted Lasso:

an excess of warmth or coldness by bartonbones 

When Jamie is seriously injured during a match, Roy and Ted are reminded how much they care about him--as a son, or as a younger brother, or as an exposed nerve. Jamie is reminded what it's like to have people care when his face gets knocked in.

Lemons and Lavender by LivingProof

He peels his eyes open. Shit, they really must be giving him the good stuff, cause he could swear he knows that dark figure lurking in the doorway, where his old man came in a few minutes ago. He blinks a few times, waiting for it to vanish. It doesn’t. “Roy?” he croaks. He blinks again, and Roy…or whoever…is standing beside him, 'cept Jamie still can’t tell, cause he can only see his back, cause whoever it is isn’t looking at Jamie, he’s looking across the room. Towards that window. At Jamie’s dad. “The fuck do you fucking think you’re fucking doing here?” Yeah. That’s Roy.

Barn Raising by altschmerzes 

After the locker room disaster in Manchester, Roy drives Jamie home. The chaos they find when they arrive at the house swiftly proves it is not a safe place to spend the night, forcing a change of plans and a reroute to Roy’s own home. The following day Jamie experiences, in this order: The most bewildering breakfast of his life, a penalty kick clinic with a seven-year-old, and an overwhelming display from his teammates that brings him face to face with the fact that not only has he been accepted back in Richmond it’s also possible he might be, in a way he can’t remotely process or understand, loved here.

The Same Story by altschmerzes

It would've been traumatic enough for Jamie's father to ruin Richmond's most recent victory in front of the whole team, but when the confrontation turns violent in front of a gaggle of reporters, the ensuing social media firestorm is even worse. Over the next two and a half weeks, Jamie will have to navigate the charges against his father, walk a gauntlet of publicity that he never asked for, and prepare to give the interview of a lifetime.

Sandman

Bones Don't Rust by not_whelmed_yet

The same capture & rescue fic everyone has written, but playing off two ideas: - I wanted to see Dream’s physical recovery take long enough that he could begin his mental/emotional recovery before heading back to the Dreaming - There’s a lot of ways to hurt an anthropomorphic entity without taking them out of their snowglobe

I will find you in your dreams by Salmaka

A story where Dream, confused and weak from his time in isolation doesn't make it back to the Dreaming but ends up in Hob's house instead.

To Learn to Breathe Again by ironlin

Upon returning back to the Dreaming, Dream finds himself struggling. Thankfully, Lucienne is there to help.

9-1-1

To Be Loved by Scribbles97

Buck knew he was spiralling, that the dread that had been shadowing him since leaving the hospital should have left when the doctor had given him the all clear. Yet, he can't help but feel like he's still missing something. Eddie hadn't been able to give him the answers, but maybe Bobby could. Calm, dependable, reassuring, Bobby always had the answers and helped him through stuff.

Goosebumps by Princessfbi 

Everyone kept telling Buck he was supposed to rest, but he didn’t know how he was supposed to do that when the cold was an incessant prickling under his skin. Five Times Buck Struggled to Stay Warm After Being Struck By Lightning and Put Into A Coma and One Time He Didn't.

Don't (Wanna) Know Who I Am by altschmerzes

Buck takes a nasty fall out on a job, and when he wakes up, he can't remember anything. Not what happened, not who the people in his hospital room are, not even his own name. The next two weeks he spends being passed from house to house every few days, Chimney, Hen, and Bobby taking turns keeping an eye on him while he tries to remember his life. The way back is slow and hard, and begs the question - who actually is Evan Buckley, and is he someone worth remembering? (Luckily, the rest of the 118 is there with an answer, if not to the first question, then at least to the second.)

Once Upon A Time

puppet strings by bewilderedmoth

Having technically died on more than one occasion now, having finally put all that trauma behind him and settled down in Storybrooke, August had hoped his troubles were long gone. When Gold returns to town in his quest to find the Author, hopes of a trouble free life in the sleepy town crumble away to dust. (A whumpy re-write of August's torture in S4, Ep 16. Set within the 'mess is mine' universe, but not actually canon to that AU)

they are mine by Lil_Redhead

Killian is still trying to deal with his emotional pain after returning from the underworld and all he needs is a motherly touch. Takes place after 5B season finale.

Unforgotten by NothingImpossibleOnlyImprobable

Killian went through so much in his centuries of life, especially in the Underworld. Nightmares were to be expected. This is canon-compliant with my Undefeated story, and it will eventually be a part of a larger collection of works dealing with the aftermath of everything he's survived, and some he didn't.

You can take the boys out of Neverland by WinkyCutto

The Lost Ones don't like having to live by the rules and Henry and his family are about to find out that bringing them back to Storybrooke may not have been the best idea... Hook whump galore, you have been warned.

Superman & Lois

Path to Recovery by Beth4LC

It’s been a month since Clark lost his powers and there are still no clear answers to when he’ll get them back. In the meantime, he focuses on connecting with the members of his family.

Powerless by Beth4LC

Clark is home and recovering after Ally’s near-fatal attack, and he starts to adjust to his new reality.

Lucifer

Deal by hearmerory

Chloe didn't spend five years being best friends with the Devil just to let him go back to Hell. But recovery? Relationships? These are not things Lucifer has ever found easy. In the weeks after Lucifer's return from Hell, he and the humans, angels and demons who surround him find out how long, hard and traumatic those roads can be.

Crystals by OkamiShadou98

After seeing Lucifer's scars, Chloe searches for the truth about her partner and his shadowed past. In doing so, she comes face to face with the psychological demons he shields himself from. Recovery is a long, twisted road for the Devil and his Detective. Eventual Deckerstar.

The Man From Uncle:

Agents, Missions, and Hospitals by Tallihensia

Getting hurt on a mission is enough to make a partner’s blood run cold. The aftermath and recovery, though, is almost as bad. Caring and trust makes it better.

The Martian:

Waiting in the Sky by midnightradio

Mark is back on the Hermes but getting rescued isn't quite as easy as it seemed. Fighting for your life is easy, but living with what you had to do to survive is harder.

I Win, Mars by chuckisgod

You didn't just have to save him. You have to put him back together, too. Ares 3 was in time to save Mark's life, but not quite his mind. The Hermes has hundreds of days of space travel before they all get back to Earth. It's a ship running without maintenance, and the primary engineer has the world's most severe case of PTSD. What happens? Canon-compliant.

Just Keep Going by chuckisgod

"And this is how this story ends. The story of Mark Watney is the story of a man who was stranded on Mars, and instead of giving up he did everything he could to make it back to Earth, because that's the point." What would being abandoned on an entire planet do to someone? A window into Mark's emotional state on Mars. A sincere attempt to stay true to the real-life health effects of solitary isolation.

Life on Earth by watneykingofmars

A series of drabbles and one-shots about Mark Watney readjusting to life on earth.

Avatar the Last Airbender:

Hearth and Home by lets_support_frogs

After his Agni Kai, Zuko flees the Fire Nation without Iroh or his crew. He finds himself stranded, alone, and injured in the Earth Kingdom when taken in and raised as a healer and farmer by an Earth Kingdom couple. He finds new ways to use his bending and to influence in the changing of the war with new understanding of himself, his bending, and the war. As someone with new perspectives and influence he is able to provide a greater understanding of being a teacher, warrior, and friend when meeting the gaang.   or Where Zuko gets to recover before using anger to protect himself when he is adopted by a nice Earth Kingdom family

#fic recs #whump #recovery #fanfics #mod's fic recs #mod replies #ask #mod post #i know i'm forgetting some but i'm going blank again #i read too many fics lol

[maithefluffychicken]

I love my husband

A Geraskier fake marriage, nonsense fluffy fluff fic with a bit of jealousy, a lot of mutual pining and some misunderstandings!

Unbetaed, every help is highly appreciated!

You can read it on Ao3 too!

Hope you like it!

 A whole year has passed since Ciri became part of Geralt's life and, by extension, a part of Jaskier's life too.

 The start of that story is as sad as it could be, but now Geralt can't imagine his life without his little cub. Ciri      is     his daughter and Melitele knows he'll fight to keep her.

 The transition wasn't easy for any of them, that's true. And Geralt is not shy to admit that Jaskier was the one who made this new life of them possible, the younger man being the bridge between Geralt, a 35 years old man, too used to being alone and to have his house just for him and his roomate, a man who proclaims himself a lone wolf, and Ciri, a sweet 8 years old child who just lost her family and in need of friends and distraction.

 Jaskier was Geralt's rock, always has been, and those first weeks Jaskier showed just how strong and focused he can be when there's a real problem to solve.

 Jaskier was adamant, giving freely to Ciri his room, his space in the house both friends rented for themselves, and Geralt will never know how his best friend was able to pack all his things - all the clothing, mementos, guitars and lutes and a great number of notebooks and such, plus books and whatnot - in a few hours. He even settled some plushies and other cute childlike stuff he thought Ciri would like and even bought colourful sheets and duvets for her.

 It wouldn't make Ciri happy, she would need time to process everything, but it was a gentler way to introduce her into her new life.

 "I hope you don't mind me sleeping on the couch for a few days until I can find a new place for myself," Jaskier said softly to Geralt. "I think Priscilla can help me to find something nearby, maybe even in the same building, I know Mrs. Novak is looking to rent his flat…"

 "What are you talking about?"

 Jaskier looked at him confused, as if Geralt was the one talking nonsense.

 "Do you want to leave? Why didn't you tell me? Since when do you want to leave? I thought we were ok…" Geralt never rambled before, but it seemed like a good time to start rambling      and     panicking.

 "Geralt, my dear, I don't want to leave and I never planned to do such thing, I can assure you," Jaskier said slowly.

 "So why are you saying that you…"

 "Because Ciri needs this house, she needs you now, and this flat has just two rooms and thank Melitele it has two bathrooms." Jaskier kept his voice soft and he was looking at Geralt fondly and with something Geralt didn't want to acknowledge as      longing    . He wasn't threatening Geralt - as Yen has done long before when they tried to live together. No, Jaskier was being reasonable. Geralt hated when his bright, carefree best friend was reasonable. It was annoying and somehow      hot    , seeing Jaskier so mature and sensible, and Geralt wasn't ready to face that.

 "I love you both and I love our little rented flat, but I can't sleep on the couch, I need my beauty sleep and… Honestly I have      so many clothes    , I need some place for that too."

 Geralt knew Jaskier was right. But he hated that, he didn't want to lose his best friend.

 "It breaks my heart to leave you two alone, now," Jaskier added. "I know how hard this whole thing has been for you and for Ciri, I hate that we never thought about looking for a bigger place in the first place. I just… I want to stay, but the only options are the couch or…"

 Jaskier was at the edge of tears and yet, he giggled before adding, "or we share your room."

 Jaskier waved his hand dismissing what he had said. But Geralt didn't find it funny. Actually, he thought it was a fucking great idea.

 "Would you?"

 "What?"

 "To share my bedroom, you would do that? Is that ok?"

 "Geralt, I was joking, I know you don't share your bedroom, don't worry…"

 "I can share it with you," Geralt was feeling hot all over, unable to stay still. He was tired and sad and confused and a little girl who was as tired and sad and confused as him was sleeping in his best friend's room. The last thing Geralt needed then was to say goodbye to said best friend. Geralt would share his bedroom happily with him. Anything.

 His wardrobe was almost empty, by the way, and the bed was just big enough.

 "Geralt…"

 "Jaskier, I'm sure, just… Stay, ok? This is your place too, just stay here with us."

 Geralt couldn't look at Jaskier, but he heard the younger man sob before he whispered an "ok".

 The next day they unpacked all Jaskier's things into Geralt's room

 That was a year ago.

 Now.

 "What do you mean you can't adopt Ciri?!" Jaskier practically yells after listening to Geralt's words. "You're her legal tutor! She's been living with us for a fucking year! She's doing great at the school, she even has friends! Do they want to take her just like that?"

 He has been waiting for Geralt at the café near the Courthouse where Yennefer works, and now they’re both having a much needed coffee to swallow the news.

 “Yen has been very clear about this,” Geralt says, his voice trembling in anger and desperation. He’s grateful to see Jaskier just as angry and desperate. “Even if I’m her legal tutor, Social Services' priority is to put kids with actual couples, and I’m a single man.”

 “I know they always will look for the best for the kids, but in this scenario, you’re the best for Ciri, they…”

 “They want Ciri to have a family, Yen said, you know, mom, dad and even a dog,” Geralt says, his guts strangled in an awful way, pushing away the thought of Ciri abandoning them for good. But he feels so lost now, he’s so fucking scared. He doesn’t think he’ll survive that.

 “We’re a family,” Jaskier says, then, slowly. Thinking, Geralt knows. “We don’t have a dog      yet     but that’s not a problem.”

 “Jaskier…”

 “If they want you to get married and to prove Ciri has a family, the solution is clear,” Jaskier is suddenly calm and Geralt looks at him, confused.

 “Jaskier, you’re not being serious.”

 “No, no, I’m being extremely serious, my dear!” Jaskier beams at Geralt and then is like if the world is ok again, somehow. “We can get married and then we adopt Ciri, nothing has to change, it’s just… a paper that we need to sign and if that’s all it takes to keep our little cub, well…”

 Geralt looks at his best friend in awe.

 He has never thought about marriage, he doesn’t have anything against it per se. Yennefer never wanted to get married and then Triss was too eager to prove that they were      more    . Geralt knew back then that he couldn’t marry any of them.

 And the idea to marry a stranger is just ridiculous, and again, he’s used to his life as a single man, sharing a bed with his best friend and raising a kid together. He doesn’t want to lose what they have, something tugs at his heart if he thinks about it.

 But marrying Jaskier?

 Jaskier is his best friend since they met years ago at      Posada’s    , a horrible club where he used to work. Jaskier knows him better than anyone and never judged him.

 Jaskier, always bright and loud and      too much    , the boy who decided to become Geralt’s best friend even when Geralt tried to get rid of him.

 Jaskier, the only person - besides Ciri - Geralt is afraid to lose.

 The only person that never asked anything in return, the only one who is always there for him, the only one Geralt’s brothers accept in their family reunions.

 And the one that is right now looking at Geralt with his cornflower blue eyes full of hope and determination and something else Geralt is just too scared to put a name on. The one who is giving him an option, a solution, as he always does.

 Marrying Jaskier sounds… not ridiculous at all.

 “Are you ok with this plan, Jaskier? I mean…” Geralt hesitates. He doesn’t know how to ask nor what he should be asking.

 “Oh, Geralt, it's ok!” Jaskier sips his coffee, not looking at him anymore. “Once when you sign Ciri’s paper we can divorce, it’s just a ruse so you can adopt our cub.”

 Oh. Geralt’s heart stops for a moment, even if he doesn’t know why, but it hurts. It’s just a ruse, of course.

 “Also, Lambert always says that we’re already married,” Jaskier says, his smile feels weird but Geralt doesn’t say anything about it.

 “Why does he say that?”      “Because we sleep together but we don’t have sex.”

 Geralt grunts a laugh and Jaskier giggles in his chair.

 “I think it’s a good idea,” Geralt says after a moment.

 “Really?”

 “Yeah, it’s just a paper after all, right?”

 “Just a paper.”

 ***

 Geralt is alone, waiting for Yennefer at her office in the Courthouse, again. They had to call her so she could help them to ready the marriage contract and, well, to get them married as quickly as possible.

 When she enters her own office she looks as beautiful and terrible as always, and Geralt has little time to say hello to her before Yennefer storms over to him.

 “The wedding will be next Saturday, Tissaia will office it in the Room A, I already hired the photographer and the catering, the celebration will be at my home, just be sure to be there with your best suit and your family”

 “I… what?”

 “You two will need more than a fucking paper to show that you’re happily married, or do you think you two are the first to try this ruse?” Yennefer say, her arms crossed and her glance fiery as always. “One thing is to want to have some benefits at work, but this is about a child, this is Social Services you have to convince, they’ll want to know everything about you two, there will be interviews, this is how adoption works.”

 Geralt feels like he’s been struck by a train. His head spins and he wants to puke, but it’s ok, everything is going to be ok, they can do this.

 “I… I don’t have any good suits.” He manages to say, because honestly, he doesn’t know what else to say or do. It’s not like he wants to take a step back, but he’s feeling overwhelmed.

 “I’m sorry, Geralt, I know this is stressful and awful, and I wish things were easier…”

 Geralt looks at her, she wears that sad look that he hates.

 “It’s ok, Yen, you’re doing everything you can, and I’m grateful to count with your help.”

 “For you and for Ciri? Anything.”

 They stay silent for a moment. Geralt is tempted to tell her about Jaskier, about not wanting to wed him properly because it feels too real and still, somehow, not enough, and that he fears this will change their friendship. He always talks about      feelings     with Jaskier, cause he knows Jaskier will never laugh at him, but now he can’t talk to Jaskier, not about this, and is killing him.

 “Don’t worry, you two are the weirdest best friends I’ve ever seen, you two will manage to convince Social Service because, well…”

 “What?”

 “You two are already married, you sleep together but…”

 “But we don’t have sex, yeah, yeah, I know.” Geralt snaps. That fucking joke about them is not funny anymore.

 ***

 “And I have to wear a dress?” Ciri grimaces.

 Jaskier laughs at Ciri’s antics, as always, and Geralt can’t help but smile. He was so scared of Ciri’s reaction about them getting married - too young to understand what marriage is, or maybe questioning about two guys being her adoptive fathers, or simply that her      father     was marrying someone at all… Things he thought could be a problem, but it seems like Ciri’s only issue is about having to wear a dress, of all things.

 He loves her so much it hurts.

 “I think we can figure it out if you don’t want to wear a dress, cub,” Geralt promises.

 “And I’ll be the ring bear?”

 “Ring      bearer    , and yes, if you want to,” Jaskier says. “And if you’re ok with me marrying Geralt and being your adoptive father, Princess.”

 Geralt knows Jaskier, he knows just by his voice when he’s lying or happy or nervous, and right now he knows for sure that Jaskier is anxious, asking Ciri her blessing to marry Geralt. Jaskier is just as worried as him.

 “That means that… That you’ll always be with us?” Ciri asks.

 “As long as you two want me here, yes,” is Jaskier’s bold answer.

 Ciri looks at him for a long moment before nodding and giving Jaskier her sweetest smile.

 “Will you make pancakes for dinner?” She ask, and the tension in the living room disappears and Geralt can breathe again.

 Jaskier, always weak for Ciri’s request, obligues happily and that night they dine pancakes with hot chocolate and blueberries.

 “I swear I thought she was going to say that she didn’t want me as her father,” Jaskier admits later that night. He’s already under the covers, writing something in his new notebook.

 Geralt hums, discarding his trousers and shirt and staying just his boxers on. He can’t remember the last time he felt embarrassed about being half naked around Jaskier. Sleeping together and having to share the ensuite bathroom for a whole year leads to that.

 Jaskier feels just as comfortable around him, enough to steal Geralt’s favourite t-shirt - an old, grey t-shirt with a faded wolf emblem, the Kaer Morhen College emblem. Geralt wanted to get upset with Jaskier the first time he borrowed his t-shirt, but something primal and possessive was born on Geralt’s chest that day, something he doesn’t want to look too close at. It’s easier to just let Jaskier wear his t-shirt at night.

 And if during the night he ends up wrapped around his best friend and feeling the soft t-shirt in his skin, feeling Jaskier’s warm body underneath… Well, that’s between him and the t-shirt. Jaskier doesn’t need to know.

 “Sweet Melitele’s tits, I don’t know what I would have done  if she said she hates me.”

 “Jaskier,” ok, now his best friend was just being absurd. “She adores you, and you’re a great father for her, where do those thoughts come from, now?”

 “I… I don’t know, Geralt, I have never…” Jaskier swallows. “Are we doing the correct thing? If I adopt Ciri with you… When you’ll get tired of me, will you still let me be her father? When you find another terrifying, powerful woman to fall for, will I be welcomed to Ciri’s life as well?”

 “Hey, hey, Jaskier, what are you fucking talking about?”

 What was happening? Why were Jaskier thinking such things? Was he having second thoughts about Ciri? About their wedding? Why was Jaskier this scared so suddenly? It was just a ruse to convince Social Services, right? Jaskier said so, and Geralt was not entirely happy about it but he wanted to marry Jaskier and wanted Jaskier to be Ciri’s father as well.

 What the fuck was happening to his best friend now?

 “Nothing, nothing, it’s… fine. I’m fine, don’t you worry, dearheart.” Jaskier closes his notebook and throws it at the floor before curling in his side of the bed, turning his back to Geralt.

 Geralt sighs. Just two days ago Jaskier was completely fine about the whole wedding thing, that fucking wedding thing that has been      his     idea. Fuck if Geralt knows what was that man thinking now.

 Geralt slips into the bed and he’s so tired that the sleep catches him quickly, falling into a dreamless sleep in just a few minutes.

 The next morning he wakes up with an armful of Jaskier. They always manage to get tangled under the sheets, this time Jaskier’s head is resting over his chest and he can’t help it, Geralt needs to hold him tight against him.

 ***

 Saturday morning comes and the sun is high and bright and Geralt has spent the last two nights without sleeping.

 Thursday night his brothers, Eskel and Lambert, kidnapped him to give him his bachelor party - that was the three of them and his foster father, Vesemir, drinking and talking and playing Gwent and then drinking again.

 He can’t recall everything that happened that night, but he has the awful feeling that he confessed more than he wanted to in that horrible drinking game. He knows he talked about Jaskier. He just can’t remember what he said.

 On Friday, Jaskier told him that Priscilla and Essi, his oldest friends from Oxenfurt, wanted to give him his own party, and Geralt was unable to sleep in the bed that once was his own.

 He wondered if Jaskier was spending his last night as a single man in the arms of a strong, beautiful stranger, or between the milky thighs of a hot, charming woman.

 After Ciri moved in with them, Jaskier stopped talking about his flirting and hook ups, but for sure he was still having his affairs, right? Geralt has been focusing on Ciri and his own work and he missed sex, but hook ups never were his thing, but Jaskier’s.

 Geralt spent his Friday night thinking about Jaskier’s words that night he was so upset after telling Ciri about their wedding.

 Jaskier had seemed so sure that it would be Geralt who would find someone else and that he would kick Jaskier out of their lives, but Geralt couldn’t stop thinking that it would be Jaskier who would find someone to love and that he would abandon Geralt.

 Not Ciri, Jaskier would never stop caring for Ciri, but Geralt? They were friends, that’s for sure, but nothing more, and someday Jaskier will want to have his own life, his own place, with someone he will truly love… in a romantic way.

 Geralt fought with the sheets and pillows, unable to sleep, and then Saturday morning came.

 They agreed to meet at the Courthouse. Geralt doesn’t remember to be this nervous ever, maybe just when he was a boy waiting to be fostered and, with enough luck, adopted. But those old wounds are healed now, and doesn’t help him with his nerves.

 Ciri is by his side, talking with her uncles, who spin her and play with her, mindlessly of their own suits, while Geralt feels like he’s about to rip his own outfit by the seams if he dares to move too fast.

 Vesemir is talking with Tissaia, only the gods above know about what.

 And then he sees the silver car approaching and he doesn’t know if he feels relieved or terrified.

     Jaskier.  

 The door opens and Essi is the first one to get out of the car, wearing a blue dress. Priscilla is the next one, with a matching dress.

 Fuck, this actually looks like a proper wedding and Geralt can’t breathe.

 Jaskier is the last one to get out of the car, and he’s… breathtaking.

 Geralt is unable to focus on how he’s dressed, he doesn’t care, he just sees Jaskier’s eyes, as blue as the sea and just as stormy. He’s smiling shyly and his cheeks are flushed when their glances lock. His skin is as pale and smooth as ever, his lips just as plump and pouty and pink as he remembered.

 Jaskier beams and waves a hand at him before Priscilla shoves a small, simple bouquet in his hands.

 “Ok, clowns! Everyone to Room A! Now!” Yennefer claps her hands twice and leads them all.

 All the guests take a seat, they’re just a few, family and best friends, and Geralt feels Jaskier’s warm body beside him.

 “Hi,” Jaskier greets him with a smile.

 “Hi.”

 “Are you ready?” Jaskier asks him. “I’m a bit nervous.”

 “Don’t be, Jaskier, it’s just us.” Geralt tries to comfort him, but somehow he can see a strange flick on Jaskier’s expression and his smile falters for a second.

 “Yeah, just us,” the younger man sighs, and Geralt doesn’t know what to do.

 And then, not long later, they’re married and eating an indecent amount of food at Yennefer’s place.

 “I can’t believe my little brother is actually married, I’m so proud of you,” Lambert says, already deep in his cups, and kisses him soundly in his cheek. Geralt tries to get rid of him, but Eskel is right there hugging him.

 “I always knew you’d realise your feelings, I always believed in you,” says Eskel.

 “What? Let me go, you two. You know this was not a      real     wedding,” Geralt says. “It’s just to adopt Ciri.”

 “What are you talking about, Geralt?” Lambert asks.

 “We’re not married      married    …”

 “Geralt, we were your witnesses when you two signed those papers, the marriage is legal.”

 “Well, it is legal but…”

 “The reason doesn’t matter, you two are      actually     married now…” Eskel adds.

 “But we’re not…”

 “Geralt, brother, there's no fraud here, you’re legally married.”

 “Yeah, I know that, I’m just saying that…”

 From the other side of the room, Geralt hears Jaskier laugh and he spins around to find him.

   Jaskier is dancing with Ciri’s feet over his, they’re both shoeless and laughing and Geralt wants to join them and he wants to dance with them… He wants to dance with Jaskier.

 He wants to kiss him again, not the shy peck at the Courthouse. He wants to kiss him properly.

 He fucking      wants    .

 “Fuck.”

 “Geralt, what the…”

 “I think I love my husband.”

   “Geralt! Are you joining us, dear husband? Ciri and I…”

 Geralt stops Jaskier rambling by softly caressing his cheek, that immediately turns a bright shade of red that he finds irresistible.

 “Jaskier, I… May I?” Geralt doesn’t know how to ask, so he just looks at those bright eyes in front of him and then at those pink lips, and back to Jaskier’s eyes. If Geralt is lucky enough, Jaskier will understand. And if he’s a fucking lucky bastard, Jaskier will not unoly understand but he’ll want to kiss Geralt too.

 Jaskier’s tongue darts between his lips for a second and he wants to chase it.

 Fuck the wedding, this is when he’s more nervous than ever, his heart hammering in his chest, his right hand caressing Jaskier’s cheek and his left hand has found a place on Jaskier’s waist. He knows that the guest, and Ciri, must be watching them, but right now in the world only exist Jaskier and him.

 And then, Jaskier’s hands are on him, tangling in the hair at his neck, sending shivers down his spine, and they’re closer than ever, their breath mingling.

 “Y-yes, of cour..”

 Geralt leans in and closes the distance between them, kissing Jaskier softly but passionately, not at all like at the Courthouse.

 “Be my husband,” he pleads.

 “We just got married, dearheart,” Jaskier giggles in his embrace.

 “I know, I mean..      Be     my husband, Jaskier, I… I love you, I want this to be real, can it be real?”

 Jaskier’s eyes get wider and he launches himself at Geralt, hugging him tightly, and Geralt holds him just as tight.

 “Yes! Yes, yes, yesyesyesyes!” Jaskier releases back just to kiss him again. “I love you too, husband of mine.”

 Geralt sighs, relieved.

 Later, his brothers will make fun of him, and even Ciri will join them. Yennefer will call them idiots, but she’ll wish them the best. And even offers Ciri to stay at her home so they can have a      girls day     together the next day, and Jaskier is so grateful for that that he dares to hug her.

 Priscilla and Essi will hug them too and dance with them and wish them well too.

 Geralt actually dances with his husband, and promises him in a hushed voice new vows, only for Jaskier to hear.

 The real fight starts now, the fight to keep Ciri at their side.

 ***

 “So, you want to get married… again?” Ciri asks, frowning.

 “Yes, sweetheart, properly this time,” Jaskier answers while serving her a bowl full of stew.

 “Why was the last one not proper?”

 “It’s just that we want to celebrate it better, in the new house,” Geralt says nonchalantly. Ciri is still too young to know how idiots her parents are.

 “And can Roach be the ring bear?” She asks, and recognising her name, Roach stands up and tries to lick Ciri’s face.

 Roach is still a puppy, a happy      not-at-all small     Great Dane puppy, with smooth chestnut fur.

 “If you train her well, I don’t know why not Roach can be our      ring bearer    ,” Jaskier decides, and Geralt smiles at him.

 “Are Eskel and Lambert coming this weekend, then?” Jaskier asks, when Ciri is satisfied with the answer about Roach and the rings thing.

 “Yes, and Lambert is bringing Aiden, too.”

 “Oh, finally! Those two have been in love      for years     now!”

 “They both are idiots, taking them so much time to realise they’re in love,” Geralt snorts, and then Jaskier’s hand is on his.

 “That runs in the family, dearheart.”

 Two years have passed since Ciri became part of Geralt's life and, by extension, a part of Jaskier's life too.

 Geralt takes his husband’s hand and leans in to kiss the gold band dressing his finger.

 The start of this story is as sad as it could be, but now Geralt can't imagine his life without his little cub nor his dear husband.

#geralt #jaskier #fanfiction #geraskier #geralt & ciri #found family #geralt is a mess #geralt is jealous #jaskier loves geralt and ciri so much it hurts #geralt loves jaskier and ciri so much too #they're idiots in love #the witcher #the witcher fanfiction

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Interviews - Henry Cavill x wife/actress reader

Summary: You and Henry have been married for a couple years now, and when you’re both part of the Witcher cast, fun interviews are to be had.

Warning: nothing but a good time, btw I’ve never written anything like this so I hope it’s good enough that I might feel motivated to write more

-Readers Witcher character is loosely based off my Geralt fic from here (just a little self promotion), but in this case you play a full vampire in this Witcher universe

The days have been long and grueling, filming hours upon hours of stunts and regular acting had taken its toll. Not to mention the countless times in hair and make up paired with costume changes and traveling to film on certain locations.

To say being apart of Netflix’s The Witcher was full of tiring days and some accidental bruises would be a huge understatement. But none of that mattered, nor did you bother to complain when through the thick and thin of it all did you have Henry with you along the way. And your favorite big slobbery bear, Kal whenever he was allowed on set.

Fortunately for you in the beginning of all the craziness, the casting and writers had wanted you specifically for the part of Y/C/N in the new series before Henry even auditioned for the role of Geralt, that was soon given to him after you accepted your fresh role of vampiric heroine.

It was ironically strange in a good way, you had watched your dork of a husband play the Witcher: Wild Hunt a few times before, eventually learning of what Geralt of Rivia was, who Y/C/N was in the story, who Yennefer and Ciri were, Tris and even Jaskier.

Who would have thought that you’d finally get to snag a role side by side with Henry in quite literally one of the most fantastic shows you’ve ever heard of. You didn’t even need to see the show yet to know how well it was most likely to be reviewed. Being a key character in the grand storyline was enough to convince you of how amazing it would most certainly turn out in the finished product.

And after all was said and done, you couldn’t believe how well loved and popular the show truly became in the following months after shooting and its eventual release onto Netflix. The after parties and cast celebrations truly made you blessedly grateful for pulling through to the vary end.

Then again you had your mans Henry by your side every step of the way. He was your rock and you were most definitely his. You know life on set would have been far less entertaining and dreadfully long if not for the lovely company of your dear Witcher, Henry. And so far after the fact, you and a good portion of the cast have been placed in random interviews for the majority of the day.

Reason being, The Witcher has at long last finally premiered and as per usual the people and media live for those cast interviews that always reveal some interesting events. So far this morning you’ve done some interviews with Anya that have gone perfectly fine since the two of you seem to click so well.

Also it helps ease the anxiety of your fellow newer cast mates to the world of continuous interviews with an experienced veteran actor like yourself, who’s gone round the ring more times then you can count. Though you can’t help but wonder how Henry’s doing, considering you’ve been separated since the sessions began at 10am, you’ve had lunch and now it’s about 1 in the afternoon with more hours to go.

Luckily for you, you’ve just been informed of another interview with the man of the hour himself. Saying your goodbyes and well wishes to your fellow cast mates, you stand and follow the guide into the advised place. Aka some really nice hotel room that’s been done up real nice for efficient interviewing, complete with the Witcher insignia on a large background poster and three chairs that happen to look rather comfy.

The camera and sound people nod in acknowledgment as you walk in, you nod back no doubt making their day with your friendliness and adorable smile that quite literally lights up a room. Soon you spot the bubbly yet nervous interviewee who instantly welcomes you into her space like you’re an old friend.

You sit, a bit confused as to where your partner happens to be at the moment, the interviewer, Lauren makes small talk before a door opens and her big bright doe eyes go wide in nervous excitement. A telling smile upon her face as she shifts in her chair before looking back to you again with a happy grin.

Henry says a quick hello to the behind the scenes crew before waving to Lauren, you smirk while watching him get comfortable next to you, “Well, well, well. Get lost on your way up, you know they have guides for a reason.” You tease as he chuckles at your humorous jab, relieved to see you again after a couple hours apart.

“Traffic.” He quips with a shrug.

“Uh huh.” You mutter with a shake of your head before drawing your attention back to Laura, “Can’t take him anywhere I swear, he does this all the time.”

She laughs as Henry pretends to gasp at your teasing, you chuckle along with them before she finally collects herself, “Well, welcome back to London. It’s fantastic to have you both in town once again, and your big beautiful faces all over Leicester Square.”

You both laugh, “Right.” Says Henry, “I guess we do look pretty cool.”

“Hell yeah, I mean where else can I see myself with a giant sword on a building? And anyways look at this beautiful mug,” You say gently squeezing Henry’s cheeks in your hand, “he’s literally killing it out there.” They laugh as you give Hen another playful squeeze before letting go and setting your arm against the chairs cushioned armrest. 

“Alight let’s start.” She says enthusiastically before glancing down at her cards then back up to you and Henry. Then into one of the two the cameras, “Hi I’m Lauren from Entertainment Weekly and today we’re here with the two stars of Netflix’s The Witcher.” She says enthusiastically while giving a nod to you two, indicating that the camera is now focused on you both, “Henry Cavill and Y/N Cavill.”

You both smile in acknowledgment as Henry gives a slight nod, “How you doing?”

“I’m great,” She beams, “So, I’ll get right into it, what do you like most about the story? What really drew you into the script that made you say, yes this is going to be awesome?”

Slapping a hand against Henry’s muscular leg, you hum, “I’ll let Hen take this one he’s a real expert on the linguistics of the whole show.”

“Thanks Y/N/N.” Replies Henry, bemused that you’re making him take the first question.

You nod to him knowingly with a smirk, “Of course.” Knowing how much he loves to talk about the show and also because you’d rather have him use his energy to talk about it then do that yourself. Priorities, right, though in your defense it’s been a long day.

“Well I absolutely love the games and the books themselves are phenomenal works of literature.” He explains, his face glowing with that usual glimmer of excitement in his eyes, “The story and the world of the Witcher is just so rich and full of potential that when I signed on for the show, I immediately knew it would be amazing, no doubt.”

You lean into the arm of you chair, “And of course I was there so that’s always a bonus.”

“That too.” He smiles adorably, “That too of course.”

Lauren smiles, “Great. So, what was it like working together, how was it having your characters interact with one another?”

You smile, setting a hand against Henry’s forearm, “This guy right here.” You deadpan before waving him off dramatically, “So annoying, my god he whined all the time and he was such a drama queen dear lord so ugh....” You start cackling before you can even finish the sentence causing Henry to loose it as well and with that the interviewer.

Shaking your head you rest your hand against his shoulder, “I joke, he was a gem to work with as usual...I mean I feel incredibly blessed to be able to act alongside my husband for months and months every single day. It’s a rarity in this line of work and I’m grateful to have shared this experience...and I guess more so this whole adventure with him as well.”

The interviewer aww’s as Henry tilts his head to lean into your hand that’s still resting atop his shoulder before pulling away just as quickly, the intimate sentiment not going unnoticed by you or Lauren who looks to be enjoying your loving yet calm energy with one another. “That’s so sweet, what about you Henry?”

“Oh yes absolutely,” Agrees Henry to your recent statement, “not only did I have her by my side through it all but the dynamic of our characters interacting together was so fun to shoot. I think the audience will really be able to see their relationship grow on screen into something strong and beautiful like in the books.”

Slow clapping you give him a curt nod of approval, “Well said.”

Lauren smirks, “Seems like it. Well, I was able to catch the premier yesterday and I gotta say...it was fantastic! I couldn’t believe how diffident the two of you looked from how you are now.” She gushes enthusiastically.

The corners of Henry’s lips curl into a proud smile for the fellow crew of the Witcher’s, “Oh that’s great then, honestly we gotta give all the props to the costume and makeup team, they’re so talented and know how to make us look like real badasses.” He adds.

You nod in agreement before grinning at a positive memory of your first interaction with Henry as Geralt, “Oh for sure, I remember during the early stages of production when our characters met each other for the first time, before this we came to set together but went separate ways to shoot our own stuff in the meantime so I never got a real look at him.” You recall with a bright smile as Henry watches your every move, beaming just the same.

“It was so funny, I was in the tent with Freya Allen, the wonderful girl who plays Ciri, and then suddenly her eyes got all big and nervous and I was like, that’s not me right? Something weird didn’t just happen with my costume? And then I turned around to find this man, wig on, face a mess, and his eyes looked so fearsome and different...it was a bit startling.” You say with a chuckle, “I clearly wasn’t expecting to see Geralt right then and there. He just looked so unlike Henry.”

“Yeah, I was almost hurt.” Laughs Henry, “She had to like squint and make sure it was me.”

Rolling your eyes, you shrug, “He had some real creepy looking colored contacts, yunno?”

Henry fake scoffs, “You’re one to talk, I mean when I first say her, Y/N’s eyes were red and she had fake blood spattered all over her face and shirt. Oh, and not to mention those fangs they put on your teeth...we probably traumatized poor Freya that day.”

“Oh shit you’re right!” You exclaim with a snort of concealed laughter, “God I completely forgot about how I looked...now since I think about it, I did that a lot too. I would just walk up to people and be completely oblivious as to what kind of nightmare I looked like, honestly I might have scared one of our producers a couple of times.” You add with a half nervous laugh, it’s true, you did scare some of the crew unintentionally. Most of the time.

Lauren lightly chuckles, “That sounds like you were quite the sight to see then.” She says before glancing back down at her notes, “Alright I have’ta ask, is there anything that you two took home with you from set?”

“Besides Henry every night,” He holds back a laugh while covering his mouth as you nonchalantly continue, “Uh, yes actually I got to take home Y/C/N’s wolf ring that I loved so much and just thought was the coolist thing ever and....uh, I might have stolen some socks too.”

“So that’s why after filming the amount of socks of yours I had to fold increased?” Wonders Henry with a surprised snort of realization.

Turning your head to give him a “no shit” kinda look, you look back at Lauren, pointing your thumb at Henry, “Master sleuth right here, but hey, he folds my laundry.”

“Aw that’s great.” Adds Lauren with a smile before turning her attention to Henry, “What about you Henry? Take anything from set?”

“More then Y/N did actually...”

“He just about took the whole makeup trailer most nights, I swear.”

Henry chuckles, “That. Is true.” He agrees with a nod, “Interesting enough, at home I’ve got Geralt’s armor hung up in our living room and a multitude of other nicknacks that I’ve collected during filming.” He adds, glancing over to you, “So uh, yeah, we were fairly lucky to be able to snag what we could.”

Lauren smiles, absentmindedly shuffling her cards, “That’s awesome to have such special memorabilia, you guys really are fortunate.” She adds before reading off from another card, “Alright you two, care to play a game called guess the image? Witcher style.”

Your face perks up at this, you’re a sucker for interview games and Henry knows it, “Are you reading my mind or something, I have been waiting all day for someone to ask about playing a game.” You gush rather enthusiastically. 

He smiles at your adorableness and how excited you’ve just become, Lauren grins, happy that her suggestion has been so well received, “Okay so how it works is, I’ll show you an image on my iPad and then you have to guess who or what I’m showing you.”

“Oh, cool I’ve heard of this,” You reply, turning to Henry with a smirk, “Loser has to clean Kal’s yard poop for a week.”

Rolling his gorgeous blue eyes he chuckles, “You’re on.”

“Alright, the stakes are high, you two ready?” Beams Lauren, holding her iPad to her chest as she awaits an answer.

“Yes, I’m ready to kick his ass.” You quip, leaning an arm against your chair while Henry does about the same, though he does his best to contain his laughter.

“Okay, first image.” She holds up the device to show some sort of weird golden thing, it’s shiny and hard, worst part is that you’re not entirely sure what the hell it could be.

Sensing your confusion Henry nudges your shoulder, though you ignore it before he smartly answers, “Oh, is that...Renfri’s brooch?” Little shit knows exactly what that is, of course he does.

Lauren claps, “Correct.” Zooming out of the image to show the full picture of the golden brooch, “Right on, that’s one point for Mr. Cavill.”

You scoff playfully, “Beginners luck.” While Henry side eyes you with a humorous grin upon his plush lips, he nudges your arm, “I’m going to really enjoy not cleaning up Kal’s grass turds for awhile.” He mutters lightheartedly, though you know deep down he’s being serious, no way is he going to win this, you think. You won’t have it, hopefully the next few pictures aren’t as difficult, Kal duty is not fun by any means.

“Shut up.” You grumble with a dismissive wave of your hand, though just teasing of course.

“Okay next image.” This time the blurred photo looks much more familiar, soon it clicks as to what the obscured blurriness actually is, yes!

“Got it! Anya’s er I guess Yennefer’s dress from the fight at Sodden.” Lauren giggles, zooming the image out to reveal Yennefer in her tasseled blue and purple dress from the battle at Sodden Hill. “I’m amazing I know.” You boast at Henry with a casual little bow in your seat.

“It’s the second question.” He deadpans, eyes crinkling in amusement as you shake your head at him.

“Pffff get outta here.” You mutter back, gently pushing his arm off of your chairs armrest and setting yours in its place while he gives you a fake shocked expression.

In turn you can’t help the smile that tugs at the corner of your lips, so instead of saying some sassy remark that would no doubt get a reaction out of him, you turn your attention back over to Lauren who’s looking over her notes again.

“Fantastic,” She says, glancing back up at you and Henry, “you’re both tied with one point each. Alright, anyone know what this is?” She asks showing something red and fuzzy, a bit of dirty skin showing from one corner but with The Witcher this bloody image could literally be anything.

The both of you squint, puzzled as to what this could be, “Y/N you got any ideas.” Wonders Henry, brows furrowed as his face contorts into deep concentrated thought.

Raising a brow, you hum, “If I knew I wouldn’t tell you.”

“Fair point.” He chuckles.

Lauren smiles, “Any guesses?”

 After a few concentrated moments, Henry shrugs in defeat,  “I’m stumped.” He admits as you study the image harder, mind racing to put the pieces together as to what the hell you’re looking at.

“No, I think I might know this....erm is it...me?” You wonder, voice raising in question, hoping to be correct about this or face the teasing of Henry.

Lauren quickly zooms out of the obscured image, “It is!” She says excitedly, revealing the picture of you from your characters debut in episode 2 where you save a girl from a werewolf, your mouth is covered in blood and so is most of your costumes chest area and left arm from the struggle. Not to mention the make-up teams fun 20 minutes of throwing fake sticky blood all over you to get the right look for the taxing scene.

You grimace a bit, “Oh god that was quite the day on set,” You recall with a half smile, “I was doing stunts all day covered in that red syrupy dye, I think it took a week to get out of my skin.”

Henry suddenly snorts with laughter, “Right! That reminds me, I thought Kal had gotten cut or something, it was just Y/N who had hugged him not realizing she still had some fake blood on her arm.”

“Jeez that’s right, I felt so bad, but I couldn’t stop laughing once we realized it was just me.”

Lauren grins, excited to hear some hidden information about little things that happens behind the scenes, “Oh wow that must have been a sight, alright Henry, Y/N’s taken the lead with a two to one score.” She says as you playfully nudge his strong shoulder. “Second to last image, what is this?”

Without missing a single beat Henry replies, “Jaskier.”

Squinting at the image you lean closer to the iPad, “How the hell do you see Jaskier?”

Smiling the interviewer zooms out to reveal the bards full outfit from the banquet scene, though he’s in the background of a fight between Geralt and some Cintran knights. “Right on!” She exclaims as you lean back into your seat dumbfounded, shoulder flush against Henry’s as he clutches your arm and squeezes it affectionately.

Ignoring his silent show of victory you shrug, “And they say he’s just another pretty face,” Earning a laugh from Lauren and some of the crew as you smirk at the camera, face them shifting to apologetic, “also I’m so sorry Joey you beautiful bastard apparently I’m blind. Uh, we don’t have to dwell on it, Lauren whatcha got?”

“You guys are both tied with two points each, last chance to win.” She replies before glancing down at her iPad, “Alright, what is this?” She asks, her iPad showing that of fuzzy bright colors, with a small corner smear of dull white that clearly wouldn’t make much sense to the untrained eye.

Smirking you glance at a puzzled Henry before sitting up in your seat, feeling rather good about yourself, “Would that happen to be, Hen in Stregobor’s illusion?” You answer with, though sounding a bit as a question considering you aren’t entirely confident as to what image this is.

Lauren’s brows raise in surprise, “Henry, looks like we have a winner. Y/N you are correct.” She beams, enlarging the image to reveal Geralt’s side profile as he talks to the old wizard while the background stays colorful and shrouded in various arrays of sunlight..

Shaking your fist victoriously in the air you give a couple enthusiastic whoop whoops while Henry simply takes it like a champ, “Have fun cleaning up Karl’s monster turds, cause this lucky lady doesn’t have to.” You boast as Henry and the crew laugh.

“Well that was something,” Beams Lauren, “I’m so glad to have chatted for a bit about your guys’ amazing new series, and maybe ended a relationship in the process.” She says jokingly as both you and Henry chuckle.

Patting his thigh affectionately, you smirk, “He’s a tough old bear, but yeah, it was awesome having you talk to us.”

“Yes, take care now.” Adds Henry while the interviewer Lauren stands, saying her goodbyes as she goes to exit the room.

The camera crew take a small break to adjust things and whatnot as you and Henry wait patiently for the next interviewer. He turns, an adorable smile pulling at his lips while you pretend to ignore his fiery gaze. “Well that went pretty well, minus the fact that I’m on Kal poop duty for a week...but uh...” He leans in close to you now, “I missed you all morning.”

Breaking out into a smile you raise a brow, “Boring without me huh?”

“Always.”

You casually shrug, “I figured as much. Don’t worry, we have a hotel all to ourselves tonight.” Your brows wiggle suggestively causing your blue eyed lover to shake his head with amusement.

“Say it louder next time.” He jokes.

Side eyeing the oblivious crew you begin to speak a couple octaves louder, “Henry I can’t wait to fu..” Suddenly his hand presses against your mouth before you’re able to call any attention to yourself. He gives you a warning look before slowly pulling his hand from your mouth.

You grin mischievously, “I wasn’t gonna say that...”

“Sure Y/N,” He mutters in your ear as a new interviewer walks into the room and finds their chair, “and I’m wasn’t going to make you scream tonight.”

Your brows raise in surprise and admittedly slight arousal at his choice of wording in this room of all places. Eyeing him up, face still showing surprise, you finally break out into a satisfied smirk. “You know what? I think you should consider changing your offer.”

He thinks deeply for a moment, though you know he’s only pretending to get you riled up, “Hrmm...maybe, possibly, should I? Should we? You are my co-star after all, that wouldn’t be very professional now would it Y/N?” He states with a shit eating grin, all done while the crew and interviewer get ready, minding their business and completely unaware to yourself and Henry’s teasing.

Scoffing playfully you lightly swat his arm, “We are way past being professional.”

He chuckles, looking from you to the rest of the room, “Oh, they have no idea.”

#the witcher x reader #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill

[toss-a-coin-to-your-stan-account]

Whumptober No. 3: Sticks and Stones May Break My Bones But...

Taunting | Insults | “Who did this to you?”

Summary: Nothing could’ve prepared Geralt for Jaskier being brought to Kaer Morhen, nor for the sight of the bandages on his injured hands. Despite what happened on that mountain, Geralt wants to know who did this - who took away something so integral to the core of Julian Alfred Pankratz. But he doesn’t get the answer he thought he would.

Words: 2k

A/N: DAY THREE LET’S GOOO! And after two and a half months, I’ve finally gotten another witcher fic out! It feels good! I missed writing for this fandom so much (and it’ll help me ease back into Spider’s Thread), and this was SUCH a fun prompt fill for today. This was inspired by some of That Jaskier Content from the latest s2 trailer, and it’s... implications about the state of his hands. I hope you enjoy!

[CW: Hurt/No Comfort, Torture Aftermath, Hand Injury]

--

Nothing could have prepared Geralt for this.

No, there was nothing in this world - not even a miracle - that could’ve prepared Geralt for the moment he sensed a portal - one of Yen’s portals - outside the keep.

For the moment he ran out to a balcony and saw her there, having somehow - despite everything he believed, everything he thought he knew for certain - having survived the Battle of Sodden Hill; for the moment he’d lay eyes on a very much alive Yennefer… with a bard’s arm drawn over her shoulder to support him.

His hair was longer now, down to his jaw, and a burgundy leather jacket - adorned with ribs and folds just like that red doublet he wore as he looked down at him on that mountain, heart shattered - lay in tatters on him, bandaged hands peeking out of it’s sleeves…

He didn’t look the same - Gods knew he didn’t look the same - but Geralt still recognized Jaskier.

He was shuffled into one of the many, many spare rooms almost immediately, and Geralt tried talking to Yennefer. Of course, she’d been tense with him, but that was alright. At least she was alive to be tense with him. He’d take that over a particular alternative any day.

Speaking of tense...

The keep had never felt so cold as right now, when Geralt of Rivia stood in the doorway of Jaskier’s impromptu room. Here, the bard sat in an old chair, in front of a desk he did not look like he’d use to write on anytime soon. No, he looked at the wood slab despondently, not even seeming to notice Geralt.

So, he spoke up, speaking to Jaskier, his companion of twenty years, for the first time since that mountain.

“Jaskier… you’re here.”

Jaskier didn’t look at him, but he did speak.

“Wasn’t my idea. I didn’t know where else to go, and even if I did, Yennefer insisted - didn’t think I’d be safe anywhere else. Can you believe that? Yennefer of Vengerberg has a soft spot for me. The end of days may very well be upon us.”

His voice was hoarse. Geralt knew it must have been from screaming. His eyes drew down to Jaskier’s hands, where patches of horrendous blue and gods-damned purple peeked out from slivers of space between the bandages that showed his open skin.

“Your hands…”

“Oh, these old things?” Jaskier looked down at them,  “Well, Yenny did her best, but they still hurt like a bitch to play with. I won’t bestow new ballads on the world for a while yet. Sorry if you expected me to sing your praises…”

But his tone made it clear that he wouldn’t do that even if his hands were as good as they were that day in Posada, or in Cintra, or on that mountain…

Geralt pursed his lips, trying to hold back his question. He didn’t deserve to know, he knew that, but he had to…

“...Who did this to you?” he spat out.

Jaskier lifted his gaze to meet the Witcher’s, and he laughed. It wasn’t like before - like the sunrise in the spring, like the bloom of buttercups, like love and joy and all the things he came to equate with Jaskier’s laughter, however unconscious, unadmitted these comparisons were. No, it was an empty, sardonic, quietly angry thing.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“That’s why I asked.”

“And for what?” he asked, “So you can tear some fucker to shreds for laying a hand on me? Because you think I’m still your naive companion that would swoon at the thought of you exacting revenge on him for my sake? So you can make some grand gesture of brutality?”

“I’m not the one of us enamored with grand gestures.”

Jaskier tilted his head back and huffed. The shift in his movement made his hair move a bit, and Geralt realized he missed that little swoop - the little… floof, even - of hair that went down his forehead before, when his hair had been shorter.

“I think that’s the first time you’ve ever said “us” about me and you.” Jaskier remarked, “Twenty years, and you acknowledge that I was something to you. Not sure what, but something.”

“You were…” 

Jaskier’s eyes widened as if he remembered something, “Oh! Right! I remember - a shitshoveler. The catalyst for all your plights, something life would bless you by taking off your hands.”

Guilt sliced into Geralt like a kikimora’s claws.

“Looks like life heard “taking” and “hands” and went straight to me…” Jaskier huffed with the ghost of amusement with himself, looking down at his hands.

“Of course you can still joke.”

Jaskier shrugged, “Not much else to do. They took my lute, and my ability to play it, but they haven’t taken my wit.”

He crossed his legs.

“The funny thing is…” he said, staring down at the cracks in the table in front of him, “There was a little bit there where, if you’d apologized, I would’ve forgiven you. But… there wasn’t a trace of you to speak of after that hunt. Nowhere I went. Not that I went looking.”

“I didn’t have time to look for you, either.” Geralt said, “I was with Ciri.”

Jaskier snapped his gaze up.

“Oh, come now, Witcher.” he said with venom Geralt only ever knew from bigoted villagers that Jaskier had tried to change the minds of with his songs before, “Does your prolonged lifespan render you timeblind, or has your head been so far up your ass for so long that you can’t even properly tell time anymore?”

“I-”

“Two years, Geralt.” he said, “A blink of an eye for you, maybe, but that’s how long it was between that damned dragon hunt and the fall of Cintra. Two years you could have found me, before Cintra fell, before-”

He snapped his jaw shut.

“Before who?”

“No, Geralt!” he snapped, slamming his hands on the table to help him stand up. It seemed that his anger stopped him from realizing how bad that would hurt, and he hissed through gritted teeth. Geralt tried to step forward, but it was like the ground between them was covered in hot coals, and Geralt’s feet couldn’t have been more bare.

Once the pain seemed to quell, Jaskier’s eyes opened, and he glowered at the Witcher.

“You don’t get to know. You don’t get to make that bastard beg for mercy and act like that fixes anything - as if it does anything but conflate your ego that is so, so massive despite how much you hate yourself. You don’t get to take revenge on my behalf. You don’t get to act like this,” he held up his hands, “is anything compared to what you did to my heart.”

“I’m sorry-”

“And you DON’T GET TO SAY THAT NOW.” he screamed, killing Geralt’s words before it could leave his lips.

Geralt saw tears in his eyes as he huffed shaky breaths.

“You don’t get to say it like some off-hand statement, only brought up since it’s relevant.” he said with a wavering voice, “You don’t get to only say it now that I’m here, fallen right in your lap because Gods knew where else Yennefer could take me. And you don’t get to say it like it means anything now.”

“Now?”

Jaskier lowered his gaze.

“...I sort of figured you were embarrassed. That you were too scared to get your head out of your ass, like you are with a lot of things, but once you did, I would’ve…”

He sighed.

“But I heard you went to Cintra. Heard you went to claim your child-surprise.”

“What does Cirilla have to do with this?” he asked.

“Who do you think he asked about with each bone he broke?” Jaskier asked, snapping his gaze back to Geralt, “You? If it were just you, I would’ve…”

He sighed.

“That isn’t the point. When I heard that after twelve years of running from your claim, you hauled your arse to Cintra to protect her, I realized that you were always capable of going back to unfinished business, to scorned places of the past - you could always do it, if it was for the sake of something important enough to you.”

Jaskier lowered his gaze again, smiling sadly - smiling bitterly. It was an odd thing, a bitter smile, but Jaskier, like a fine doublet, wore it well.

“I just wasn’t.” he said, “I’m not your destiny, or your djinn-bound soulmate. I was just a bard.”

My bard. Geralt wanted so badly to say.

“What could I have said?”

Jaskier’s lower lip quivered as he looked at the Witcher near-dumbfounded, as if his incredulousness were a dagger that cut him deep. He leaned back against the table.

“You tell me.” he shrugged, “For those two years, I was still stupid enough that anything would have worked. Really, I wished some of my eloquence rubbed off on you, and I could’ve gotten a plea that, in a spur of irony, I was one of the few blessings life ever granted you, but anything that sounded remotely like an apology would have worked.”

He put his hands on his hips. Geralt could tell how hesitant he was.

“...At least, it would have made me think I was worth an apology in your eyes, and I was worth all the work it could have taken, tracking me down to say it.”

He rubbed a patch of cloth on his trousers with his thumb. Geralt didn’t miss how the corner of his lip twitched.

“At least, I could’ve known that what you said really was just a product of the heat of the moment, sprung forth by a misplaced attempt at levity, and there was no truth to it. I was so desperate that I would have taken anything if it meant I’d stop missing you.”

“You obviously stopped missing me eventually.” 

Jaskier threw his head back again, “Wrong again, Geralt.”

He stood up straight again and walked across the floor, which, to Geralt, was still littered with hot coals he couldn’t dare step over.

“Do you really think that the venom in your words - the spit from your lips - the fury in your eyes could clear you from my mind? From my heart?” he walked right up to Geralt, though the space between them felt like it was pushing the Witcher away from Jaskier like a magnet.

“Do you really think that anything but the Gods themselves could’ve made me stop missing you?”

Geralt couldn’t say anything. Hearing Jaskier’s words… it was like a vocal hex, like someone had sewn his very lips shut.

(Perhaps if he had done so himself before that day on the hunt, things wouldn’t have gone so bad…)

(No, no, he still would’ve found a way to ruin things. He was Geralt of Rivia, after all.)

Jaskier was only inches away from him now - a distance like something from a dream, after they’d been distant for so long… but even though this was the closest their bodies had ever been to one another, the Witcher knew that Jaskier’s mind - his heart - was as far away from Geralt as it could ever get.

Jaskier was the one to break eye contact - as if he was still terrified of giving the Witcher the chance to break anything - and he looked down to his feet.

“...If you want to know who broke my hands, Yennefer knows more than I.” he said, “She’s the one that found me, told me more of who he was. All I have is a name for a face.”

Geralt turned to leave. Jaskier grabbed his wrist.

The touch burned.

“But…”

Jaskier lifted his head and looked Geralt in the eye.

“...You want to know who did this to me? Who ruined me? Who broke me?”

Jaskier’s eyes bore into Geralt’s soul, the ice blue of his irises piercing him like shards.

“Go look back on that mountain.”

#whumptober2021 #no.3 #''who did this to you?'' #fandom #fanfic #broken hands #torture #torture aftermath #hand injury #the witcher #jaskier #geralt of rivia #geraskier #my writing #mine

[itsclydebitches]

it's so funny to me bc the way you talk about show!witcher makes me not want to play the game bc. i love the way jaskier and geralt are in the show and i dont want THAT ruined for me by whatever the game does with them. which is probably weird but it just goes to show everyone has their own tastes i guess slkjfhgdskfjhgkjh

aksdjflaksj oh no! lol Honestly though, if you like the Netflix dynamic you may still like the game dynamic, if only because so many of the criticisms against Netflix — that Geralt is too cruel to Jaskier, Jaskier is too much of a caricature, they don't start out as the close friends they're meant to be, etc. — exists for TW3 as well. So for someone who does like their dynamic as opposed to being critical of it, the game and show might somewhat go hand-in-hand? Or at least that’s a theory of mine. Though TW3 takes place post-canon and thus the two have settled into a solid relationship (we've already gone through the development the Netflix boys will presumably get), there's still this undercurrent of Dandelion as this... grudgingly loved annoyance, I guess. Which, if you've read any of the books, feels totally off base, whereas if this is your first/only Witcher experience it can feel like a whole ocean of potential. We know Geralt does like Jaskier, so what does it mean if he doesn't always act like it? The whole "I pretend like I hate you, but deep down I'd totally die for you. Now what tragedy will make me finally  admit how much I care?" characterization can be GREAT. Great enough that I've got a 37,000 word fic derived from the Netflix dynamic going, despite my own complaints! (I am a contradiction) So yeah, I both like aspects of their relationship even as I'm frustrated by them, and more importantly, I can see many of those same characteristics in TW3. Which might make it more palatable for you, anon, than previously assumed.

It's the books where Dandelion truly differs and, as an adaptation — not just that, but an adaptation where the creators said time and again they were going to be faithful to the books — where Netflix fails to my mind. There's plenty of great Dandelion-Geralt moments to discuss, but you know Netflix's initial meeting? Jaskier begging for any acknowledgement of his work, Geralt dismissing his song as untrue, the whole man with bread in his pants? Compare that to the scene that exchange was likely taken from:

“Geralt,” said Dandilion, standing in the stirrups to pick a fine apple from a branch which stretched over the orchard fence, “all the way you've been complaining about it being harder and harder to find work. Yet from what I just heard, it looks as if you could work here without break until winter. You'd make a penny or two, and I’d have some beautiful subjects for my ballads. So explain why we're riding on.”

“I wouldn't make a penny, Dandilion.”

“Why?”

“Because there wasn't a word of truth in what they said.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“None of the creatures they mentioned exist.”

“You're joking!” Dandilion spat out a pip and threw the apple core at a patched mongrel. “No, it's impossible. I was watching them carefully, and I know people. They weren't lying.”

“No,” the witcher agreed. “They weren't lying. They firmly believed it all. Which doesn't change the facts.”

The poet was silent for a while.

“None of those monsters…None? It can't be. Something of what they listed must be here. At least one! Admit it.”

“All right. I admit it. One does exist for sure.”

“Ha! What?”

“A bat.”

They rode out beyond the last fences, on to a highway between beds yellow with oilseed and cornfields rolling in the wind. Loaded carts traveled past them in the opposite direction. The bard pulled his leg over the saddlebow, rested his lute on his knee and strummed nostalgic tunes, waving from time to time at the giggling, scantily clad girls wandering along the sides of the road carrying rakes on their robust shoulders.

“Geralt,” he said suddenly, “but monsters do exist. Maybe not as many as before, maybe they don't lurk behind every tree in the forest, but they are there. They exist. So how do you account for people inventing ones, then? What's more, believing in what they invent? Eh, famous witcher? Haven't you wondered why?”

“I have, famous poet. And I know why.”

“I’m curious.”

“People”—Geralt turned his head—“like to invent monsters and monstrosities. Then they seem less monstrous themselves."

The casual intimacy of traveling together, grabbing a snack, and chatting to pass the time. Dandelion waves at "scantily glad girls," but it's just a single line, not his defining trait. He plays a little music without Geralt insulting him (because Geralt likes his music and has always been willing to admit it). Here, when Dandelion is wrong about what kind of monsters exist, he's not made to feel lesser for that belief, or to have it presented as a means of coning people out of their coin (note that Geralt doesn't take exception to the suggestion of staying and getting "some beautiful subjects for my ballads”). Geralt kindly explains the villagers' ignorance — an ignorance Dandelion is a part of, even if the text simultaneously points out that he can read people well and he wasn’t wrong to pick up on the fact that the villagers think this is all true — before they share a moment of humor together: "Ha! What?" / "A bat." A few minutes later though Dandelion challenges things a bit, leading to a philosophical discussion about the nature of monstrosity. Dandelion is intelligent! Geralt welcomes his insights! They jokingly call one another “famous witcher” and “famous poet”! It’s a totally different feel from the grudging acceptance to outright hostility shown in the Netflix show, or even the general annoyance that can permeate their interactions in the game. The books are the one place where I believed, without a shadow of a doubt, that Dandelion is Geralt’s best and truest friend  — and not just because no one else will put up with the Butcher of Blaviken. 

So you might still like them in the games! Even if you don’t, I’d recommend not letting that stop you. Obviously I have some criticisms there, but TW3 remains one of my favorite games ever. At the end of the day, the Dandelion-Geralt interactions are an incredibly short part of the tale compared to the whole. For those who aren’t happy with that relationship, aren’t happy with Yen, don’t like playing Ciri, can’t stand Triss, even don’t like this major arc... everything is just one small piece of a truly massive game. So I’d definitely still recommend giving it a try sometime. If you don’t like their interactions, go watch some Netflix clips on youtube after the Dandelion scenes to wash away the bad :D

#witcher #mymetas

[geraskierficrecs]

Hey! Thanks for supplying and writing all these wonderful fics! I wanted to know if you knew of any Bard!Geralt x Witcher!Jaskier? Thank you!!!

Witcher Jaskier Fics!

demand an encore by Emamel (WIP)

He looked up, and a man stood before him. Geralt hadn't heard him approach. That was the first sign there was something odd.

The second was the faint but still noxious smell of poison that clung to his fingers, just strong enough to make out over the spiced perfume he wore. And under all of that was a richer smell, as familiar as Geralt's own scent, because it was Geralt's own. Or a witcher's, at least.

Dandelions for You by xdandelionsxbloomx

“No?” Jaskier pursed his lips. “You’re an odd one, I must admit. Didn’t think there were bards that weren’t talkative--”

“And I thought witchers were quiet.” The man interjected, lifting a brow as he looked over at Jaskier. The witcher blinked once or twice, before he registered the slight curl to the man’s lips - and that was a near smile.

Jaskier snorted, but tipped his head in acknowledgement.

-

A Reverse!Verse that came into being from an odd thought in my head and was fueled by several of my lovely mutuals on tumblr. I love y'all.

Also not ACTUALLY major character death. It's temporary and everyone survives, just wanted you all to be prepared for that scene when it came. Everyone is okay at the end, I promise!

Of Buttercups and Bleeding by Spencer B

He hadn’t meant to lie. Not really. It hadn’t been a proper lie, one of omission, and it wasn’t like Geralt was the only person he’d been lying to at the time. He’d just wanted to be someone else for a bit. A Witcher was always a Witcher. Except when that Witcher was Julian Alfred Pankratz.

-

Jaskier has a past that he'd been hiding for a long time. Too long. When Geralt gets hurt he has a choice to make. Continue living a lie, or save the man he's come to love and risk exposing it all.

i have often dreamed of a far off place by andrewminyards

Jaskier looks into the mirror. Julian of Cintra stares back at him, and there is almost nothing of Jaskier in that reflection. Gone is the bard who’d wowed the Continent with his songs, and Jaskier grieves for the loss, heart heavy and aching.

He’d managed to discover what he would have been had he not been a witcher, but he will never have it again. Returning to the Path will be painful, knowing that he will once again be rejected by humans, and it leaves a hollowness in Jaskier as he realises that he will no longer be loved. Not anymore.

*

Before Jaskier the bard was born, there was Julian of Cintra, a witcher tired of his life on the Path. Julian gets the life he wants and lives four decades as Jaskier, until tragedy strikes after the dragon hunt and he’s forced to return to his life as Julian. Struggling to reconcile his two identities, Julian tries to work out what pleases him.

Juniper Berries by Winged Quill (WIP)

Ciri is forced to go on the run when Nilfgaard catches up with her and Geralt. When she is claimed by another witcher via the Law of Surprise, she thinks destiny must be playing a cruel joke on her. She is still mourning Geralt, after all. How dare another try to replace him?

(Meanwhile, Juniper—or Jaskier, as he was once known—is kicking himself for making the exact same mistake that Geralt made all those years ago. But maybe a child surprise is exactly what he needs to help him move on from his lost humanity. And the girl seems to be dealing with her own brand of grief. Perhaps he can help her.)

how many secrets can you keep? by gwynbleidd

Jaskier wasn't a good liar, but he omitted the convenient parts of the truth like any other Witcher would. Oh, was that out loud?

Bard Geralt

and the last age should show your heart by fallingintodivinity

Geralt’s first thought is that whoever had come up with all those tales about witchers had done a really bad job of it. The man standing in front of Geralt, with his pretty face and sweet, boyish smile, is about as far as humanly possible from the picture Geralt’d had in his mind of a typical witcher.

“I’m Jaskier,” the witcher says, then stares hopefully at Geralt.

“Geralt.”

Jaskier beams. “Well, it’s lovely to meet you, Geralt.” The witcher peers at him inquisitively. “You’re not very talkative, for a bard.”

Geralt grunts. “You’re pretty damned talkative, for a witcher.”

[or: a canon AU in which Jaskier is a witcher and Geralt is a bard.]

#witcher jaskier #witcher!jaskier #fic recs #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #bamf jaskier #badass jaskier #feral jaskier #angst

[breyito]

Brittle

TITLE: Brittle  AUTHOR/ARTIST: @breyito (read also on AO3) PROMPT DAY : Day 4: Hurt/Comfort for @geraskierweek SUMMARY: Post- Ep. 6Jaskier is on his way to being mostly allright, when an unexpected meeting with Geralt tears all his efforts apart. WORD COUNT: 2.1 k BOOKS/NETFLIX/2002 SHOW/VIDEO GAME: Netflix show TRIGGERS/WARNINGS: Angst. Hurt no Comfort. Emotional pain.   RATING: Teen and up ADDITIONAL NOTES: Yeah...I chose hurt. Ooops? ñ.ñ  I couldn't help it!!! I just love Jaskier and his angsty-potential!!! Tbh, I've read some amazing post-ep.6 fix-it fics, but I'm of the opinion that some things you just don't forgive; at least not without effort from the other part. Hence, this was born. I knoooow that Geraskier Week is ending, but RL is a bitch and writing (even if I've written more this week than the past semester, jeez) is hard. I plan to finish all the prompts, even if it takes me another week lol. Tho I'm having a hard time to come up with ideas for the last two days, so...help?? Enjoy the pain!!

When they find the bard, he is singing in a small tavern. This far North the Nilfgaard army has not being able to reach, yet; but refugees have been traveling and passing through, and it is noticeable. The place is fairly full, the ambient warm from the fire on the hearth and the ammount of bodies. The mood of the people, though, is solemn and gloom. The usual joyful tunes and bawdy lyrics that make most of Jaskier's songs would not be welcome; but his most recent works, full of longing and despair are listened to with the aumost attention; people eager to feel conected in their grief.

~I need time to replace, what I gave away~

He is singing with his eyes closed, the melody pouring out of him without effort; and he does not see them enter: the sorceress, the princess and the two Witchers.

~Though I try to resist I still want it all ~

The four of them sit in a corner, willing to wait until the performance is over; but the white haired witcher does not take his eyes away from the bard for a second.

~I see a little house on the beach and children's names I see quiet nights poured over ice and the sweetest ale~

Geralt tries really hard not to think that the song is about him, because surely it can't be. Neither of them are built for a quiet life and a settled home; and yet he can't stop hearing the hopeful proposal of 'lets go to the coast for a while' that he never responded to, which was on itself an answer of its own.

~But everything is shattering and it's my mistake~

Vesemir notices the moment the lark sees Geralt, because his body fills with tension, his shoulders go back and his eyes fill with something else: anger, pain, hurt. He feels the sharp inhale Geralt takes of the man’s souring scent, and hears the aborted whine that climbs up his troath.

~Only fools fall for you, only fools Only fools do what I do, only fools fall~

The sorceress thinks to herself that there is no way the dumb Witcher can miss the song being about him. The bard is practically singing it to him, not looking away once. The rest of the place might not notice, but the four of them on the table know. Even without the enhanced senses she thinks she can smell the betrayal and the hurt the bard pours out in every exhale. She did not know things were so dire between the two men, or she would have insisted on Geralt aproaching first, with an apology at the ready; instead of ambushing him to ask such a big favour.

~Only fools fall…~

As soon as the song finishes the bard jumps into action; throwing the few coins in the floor into his lute case and sprinting for the back door. Obviously, they follow. Or, Yennefer and Geralt do, leaving Ciri with Vesimir inside, to protect her.

~*~

Jaskier has never believed the saying that Witchers have no emotions; that they can't feel and only care for killing and coin. Because if that were true, then why would they help?why would they risk their own lives for the ungrateful little beings that humans are? They are hated, spat on, cursed, stoned...and yet they continue to travel seeking for monsters to kill and people to save. Surely it would be easier to just take whatever they want, instead of getting barely what they need? They could stop traveling, live in the woods or the mountains, hunt and plant and live quietly; until people grew desperate enough to seek them out and pay whatever amount they demand for killing whatever creature is tormenting the pesky little humans. Or become bandits, roaming the roads and stealing and killing as much as they want. It's not a big secret (just something people like to forget) that they can control the minds of people with their magic (similar to the way mages can, but they don't, not usually). They could take over a city, a kindom. They could do so many things; things that would turn them into the monsters people already treat them as. But they don't. They just keep picking themselves up after a badly payed hunt, a stoning, a beating for just exhisting; and they go back to the Path. So no, Jaskier has never believed the rumours about Witchers not having feelings. Traveling with Geralt only proved him right.

But right now he wishes it were true.

Because if the lack of emotional conexions was something biological, something they did to Witchers on those cursed Trials; if love and care and affection was something they forced them to erase, this would be easier. It would mean Geralt doesnt care for him because he literally can't. But knowing he has such a bottomless heart; that he cares, so deeply; having seen first hand how far his affection goes...and yet know none of it is directed to him? Know that he's just an annoyance, a passing amusement, some silly human the man took pity in? That's torture. Jaskier doesnt know what to do now. What do you do when you realize (when someone literally has to spit it to your face because you just won't get it) that the person you built your life around despises you? How do you keep moving on, when you have linked yourself (your sense of being, your sense of worth) so fully to another being and that other is no longer there? When you have spent more of your life by their side than alone? How do you manage without them?

Somehow, he endures.

It takes time, and acting skills, and ale and some new-found interest in weapons and fighting to release all that anger coursing through him; but he copes. He stills feels brittle, like all his pieces were put in the right order but not glued back together, and a minimal shift can break him apart again. There’s nothing to do about the pain, not really; just wait for it to dull until it’s an ache and not searing pain (like the throb you feel in a broken ankle when it’s going to rain years after it happened; not the excruciating pain of the exposed bone through ruptured flesh). He’s not there yet; but he feels like he could be, in a few more months (or years, being realistic, but realism has never been his strong suit, has it?).

There’s a war going on, after all, and he can’t give himself the luxury of pining when people are being killied left and right. He stops singing about White Wolves and monsters; because Princess Cirilla is still unacounted for, and people are starting to remember (after years of a heavy silence imposed by Calanthe) that Geralt of Rivia was to claim her by the Law of Surprise. He has made a name for himself and the last thing he wants it’s to be taken hostage on the missguided notion that Geralt would give a rat’s ass about him and come to his rescue. He is not that stupid. 

So he crafts another identity, another name and life and repertoire (he’s lucky that enough songs from Jaskier are being sung by other minstrels, so he doesn’t runs out of ballads and dittys while he composes new material), changes his image to fit in rather than stand out (more earthy colors with minimal embellishments, embroidered by his own hand), grows a beard (still carefully maintained) and lets his hair reach his shoulders. He sings more about longing and loses, homesickness and heartbreak; but still tries to end the performances on a high note, a cheerful tune (people respond better, when they can sing their woes but still feel hope at the end of another dark day).  

Or at least that is what he usually does. It only takes Geralt to show up once for all his careful work to come tumbling down. He can feel his grief start to choke him and barely manages to finish the song (and of course it’s about Geralt, because all his songs about heartbreak are about him) before he’s gathering his things in a hurry and running for the door. He just wants to get to his room at the inn before he starts to unravell. Of course he doesn’t get to, because the damn Witcher and the fucking witch follow him and cut him off.

“Jaskier.”

“That’s not my name.” he answers in a lower registry. It’s useless, he knows, but he still tries to side step and continue on his way. A hand grabs his forearm and the strenght behind it stops him short. He can feel the heat of his palm scorching his flesh even under all those layers and he starts to shake.

“Jaskier.”

“What? I’m on my way to the inn, I’ll be gone by morning. You-”

“Jaskier”

“-don’t have to see me or talk to me-”

“Jaskie-”

“-or even acknowledge me so-”

“Jaskier!”

“-what do you want!?” he screams, and his voice carries into the darkness around them. “What could you possibly want from a shit-shoveling useless minstrel, uh!?” 

He can tell that both the Witcher and the sorceress are shocked by his outburst; and he takes advantage of this by shaking the hand off and walking a few more feet away from them.

“Jaskier. We need you.” Is what he hears next, and the words make him stop. He lets loose a bitter short laugh.

“Oh, haven’t you heard, woman, that he doesn’t need anyone?” he hears steps behind him and continues walking, “And I wouldn’t go depending on him very much either. He tends to bite and run the other way when that happens, you know?” The Witcher gets ahead of him and grabs his shoulders, thightly and pushes him against a wall.

“Don’t do that.” he growls, shaking him, impatient. “She’s done nothing to-”

"How is it, Geralt” Jaskier interrumpts, finally looking into Geralt’s eyes “that you go out of your way to respect, protect, love” he spats the word out “people that  curse your name, spit on you, wish you dead and use you so badly that you have nothing left when they are done with you;” he doesn’t even try to pretend the words aren’t about certain witch that has apparently deemed the Witcher’s company good enough again, he sees her flinch at the quick look he shots her but pays it no mind “but show nothing but disgust towards the one person who has always stood by you?" he sees the way Geralt recoils at that, but honestly, if he can lash out when he feels hurt then he deserves to hear the pain he caused others.

"Jas-"

"What did I had to do; what did I had to change; what else did I had to sacrifice for you to give me a sliver of your affection?” He can’t hold his gaze anymore and just looks over his shoulder, tears escaping uninvited. “Just a morsel, a fucking crumb of yourself?" His voice breaks and fuck, he wanted to finish this conversation with the last dregs of his dignity intact, but he doesn’t even get that, does he?

"Jaskier, I'm so-" despite the fact that Jaskier has spent the last fucking year wanting to hear an apology from the man that destroyed his heart; right now he can’t. He suddenly feels so tired. Brittle, like that single word could make him crumble and disperse his very core to the winds. He swallows a moan and starts begging.

"Please, leave." he pauses, to see if the other man will, for once, heed his request. He doesn’t, of course. " Geralt, please, leave." he pleads. The Witcher lets go of his shoulders, but opens his mouth. But Jaskier won’t let him speak, not if he doesn’t want to end the night reduced to more pieces. "You are no good to me witcher. You wound me; it hurts. Everytime I think of you a fucking hole opens in my chest and threatens to consume whole.” he starts wheezing, but keeps talking, trying to explain his pain, to make him understand how badly those scarred hands have wounded him. “Seeing you here... Listening to your voice? It’s ripping me to pieces."

"Ja-" the bard feels like puppet whose string was cut. He falls to the floor in a crouch, hugging himself, trying to contain the void growing in his chest.

"Geralt, have mercy." he sobs, desperate. He hides his face between his knees, tears and snot being absorved by the dark fabric.

Finally, Geralt leaves. The keens and sobs of pain follow him all the way back to the tavern.

"Good gods, what have you done to him, Witcher?" Vesemir asks when they return to the table. The piercing cries continue on in the night.

~*~

Mmm, are those reworked lyrics from Troye Sivan?? Yes, yes they are. I just love this song and I had to tweak the lyrics a bit so they fit better, but I love the result, tbh. Thanks for reading!!! Ideas for day 6 (destiny) and day 7 (free day) are accepted ;P

Kisses

#2020 geraskier week #netflix witcher #fanfiction #day 4 hurt/comfort #angst #sad jaskier #post-ep 6

[fangirlshrewt97]

The Witcher Fic - Give Me One More Chance (Part 4)

Author: Fangirlshrewt97

Fandom: The Witcher (TV Series)

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier|Dandelion, Geralt of Rivia & Yennefer of Vengerburg, Geralt of Rivia & Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Jaskier|Dandelion & Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon

Characters: Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier|Dandelion, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Yennefer of Vengerburg, Roach

Rating: Teen Audiences and Up (Swearing, Mild Gore)

Warnings: None Apply

Additional Tags: Post Episode S01E06: Rare Species, Emotionally Constipated Geralt of Rivia, Pining, Touch-Starved Geralt of Rivia, Whump, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt & Comfort, First Kiss, Getting Together, Canon-Typical Levels of Violence, Monsters, I really put Geralt through the wringer here, but I am ok with that because poor Jaskier did not deserve it, I do acknowledge though that Geralt is multiple levels of screwed up and maybe thought he was helping them both when he was actually hurting them

Summary: After the dragon hunt, Geralt tries to cope with his actions. And misses Jaskier a lot. But refuses to deal with his feeling even when it almost kills him.

Alternate title: 5 things Geralt misses about Jaskier + 1 he didn’t need to

Link to A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24389734

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

                                                              *****

To Jaskier’s credit, the bard did not let their incredibly unexpected interruption break his stride, especially when Yennefer came to his side. No, the bard’s eyes turned stony and he turned his gaze away from him. Geralt bore every second of pain. But then,

“Dandelion!”

Ciri raced forward, dodging and zigzaging through the crowd before throwing herself at the bard, arms snapping tightly around his waist. Jaskier staggered, but stayed standing. He placed his lute on an empty space in the table in front of him before returning the hug.

“My darling.” Jaskier says, voice and eyes so full of fondness Geralt wanted to break a table.

“Bard, another song!” A villager demanded. Jaskier’s eyes dim just a bit, even if his fake smile didn’t.

“I’m so sorry my good fellow, but I’m afraid I have sung myself near hoarse this evening. I thank you all for your most generous coin, and ask you to bear with me. I will be here tomorrow as well and promise to take all requests!” Jaskier says, accompanying his declaration with an overly exaggerated bow. Ciri covered her mouth and giggled, laughing when Jaskier tilts his head and winks at her.

The villagers grumbled but accepted Jaskier’s offer. Many started to take their leave since the show was over. Jaskier spotted an empty booth in the corner, and picked up his lute before herding Ciri towards the booth. He passed by the barkeep and orders two cups of ale. He was not doing this sober.

Geralt stayed frozen until Yennefer gently bumped him. She leaned into his ear and whispered “I’m going to find me and Ciri a room at the inn. You go talk to your bard. And fix things.” She said before disappearing behind him.

Steeling himself, Geralt made his way over to the stall. Ciri was sitting besides Jaskier and talking a mile a minute. And she was calling him Dandelion. What?

Geralt squeezed himself into the opposing bench. Jaskier barely spared him a glance before taking a swing of his cup of ale. He did not pass the other cup to him.

Before he can think of what to say, Ciri finished her story to Jaskier before plastering herself to him and turned to Geralt, eyes twinkling brighter than Geralt had ever seen them. He felt his heart wrench in his chest. It was a hard battle to convince himself that his heart ached due to those twinkles and not the fond smile Jaskier was giving her.

“Geralt! This is Dandelion!” Ciri said as if that explained anything. Jaskier chuckled lowly, and dammit if Geralt did not get goosebumps over the sound.

“Oh darling one, I already know this Witcher.”

Ciri turned back to him confused. “You do?”

“Mmhmm. He knows me too, except he knows me by another name.”

“What?”

“Jaskier.” Geralt interrupts. Jaskier met him head on. His smile was flat, and his face was blank. His heartbeat gave nothing away. Geralt hated it all.

Ciri’s face twisted into a frown before her eyes widened and she whispered to Geralt “Songbird? Your songbird was Dandelion?" before turning to Jaskier and asking him "You are Jaskier?”

It was difficult to say at whom she was more betrayed by.

An emotion flashes so briefly through Jaskier’s face that if Geralt had not been focusing on it so much, he would have missed it altogether. “Songbird huh? Has the White Wolf been talking about me little one?”

Ciri hesitated, glancing at Geralt, before slowly shaking her head.

The hurt was easier to spot, the scent of it enough to nearly have Geralt throwing himself at Jaskier’s feet. The narrowness of the booth and Ciri being the only things stopping him.

“Fiona.” Geralt addressed the girl, Jaskier was still not willing to talk to him. “How do you know Jaskier?”

“I…I didn’t know him as Jaskier. He is…was? I knew him as Dandelion. And he has been coming to Cintra every year on my birthday to sing at the celebration feast. Grandmother wasn’t too fond of him, but grandfather always convinced her to allow Dandelion to be the bard of honour in the end.” she explained succinctly.

Geralt didn’t know what to do with that information. Jaskier had been keeping track of his Child Surprise? And not told him even when they were travelling together? Why did he go as Dandelion?

Jaskier stepped into the conversation. “My dearest. It is getting late, and this one does not go easy on his fellow travelers, so I am sure you must be exhausted. Do you have a room? Or-”

“Yennefer got them a room at the town inn.” Geralt stated.

Jaskier flinched at the sorceress’s name. Geralt wanted to apologize.

“But-” Ciri started to protest only to quell at both their stares. She shrunk back into her seat. Jaskier softened first. He gently reached out to pet Ciri’s hair, tucking a loose strand behind her hair. “I will be here tomorrow to dearest. Go rest.”

“Promise?” Ciri asked, voice barely audible.

Jaskier smiled fondly at her and nods. He moved his hand to the back of her neck and brought her close to press a lingering kiss to her forehead.

He then leaned his own forehead against hers. “I promise.”

Ciri made a whining noise and threw her arms around his neck for a hug before moving back, standing and smoothening out the creases in her blue cloak. The coat had long since lost the shine after weeks of travelling through forests and backwater hamlets.

“You will stay here until I come back from the inn?” Geralt asked as he rose to accompany Ciri.

He knew Jaskier would not lie to Ciri if he were to truly disappear in the night, but that was no guarantee the bard would be willing to talk to him alone.

Jaskier gave him an appraising look before giving one curt nod.

“Thank you.” Geralt said, trying to infuse as much gratitude as he could into the words. Because Jaskier saying he would be here meant Jaskier was giving him a chance to explain him. A chance to fix the mess he made.

Not wanting to keep the bard waiting too long, Geralt quickly herded Ciri to the inn with Yennefer, telling the pair not to stay awake for him. Ciri agreed easily for once, and went to get ready for bed. Yennefer caught his arm as he turned to return to the tavern. “Geralt.”

“I need to go Yen.”

“Of course you do. What I am saying is that you should be careful. Do not break that man’s heart twice.”

Geralt glances sharply at her, but Yennefer meets his gaze head on. Her violet eyes were blank, just like that day on the mountain.

Gritting his teeth he pulled away from her and went back to the tavern. Jaskier was still at the booth like he said he would be, and despite knowing the bard wouldn’t go back on his word, seeing the familiar silhouette quelled a small part of Geralt’s brain. As he walked towards the booth and sat down, his heart pounded.

The two men just stared at each other for a long time without saying anything. Geralt focused on Jaskier’s doublet, a signature vivid colour that made him stand out in a crowd without hurting the onlooker’s eyes. Geralt felt his lips quirk in a smile as his eyes feasted on the rich dye.

The world had become so dull and colourless in this last year, and only now sitting in front of the bard himself did Geralt realize how much of his world’s colours had been given to him by Jaskier. He could not even blame him for stealing away the colors of Geralt's world. The Witcher had been the one who pushed him away. His colorful songbird, and oh how that hurt. His bard of a thousand hues, impractical outfits of every color of the rainbow, who peacocked his way into the best courts of the land, and wrong beds too. With plumage that adorned him perfectly, from the golden doublet that made his skin glow to the blue one that made his eyes stand unnaturally apart. To that damned royal red doublet that haunted Geralt’s nightmares, causing him to whip his head in its direction if he ever caught that shade from the corner of his eye in every town they passed.

“It is good to see you Jaskier.” Geralt finally said.

The bard’s face flashed through a myriad of emotions before resetting to blank, but his eyes burned with anger hot enough Geralt felt as though he should be ash.

“That’s all you have to say?” Jaskier spit out. “’It’s good to see you Jaskier?”

Geralt grit his own teeth, trying not to let the bard provoke him into a fight.

“I am sorry. What I said that day in the mountains. I didn’t mean it.”

Jaskier laughed an ugly laugh that Geralt immediately hated. That was not how Jaskier sounded. That should never be how he sounded. Hollow and resentful.

“Oh you idiotic Witcher. You did mean every word though. That is the problem. You meant exactly what you said. You believed then that I was the reason for all the misfortune that you went through, that it was because of me that you had a hard life.” Jaskier finished his cup of ale and then took the other cup and gulped it down too. He looked half-feral by the end of it. “I always only ever wanted to help you Geralt. I wanted to ensure that your life was not as difficult. Every song, every bar fight with bigoted villagers, every doublespeak with nobility to pay you the actual cost of the kill and not shortchange you. Everything I did was for you. And you repaid me grandly. Truly.”

Geralt flinched. He curled his hands into fists. Jaskier was right. The human had only ever done what he thought was best for the Witcher. Never once worked against him, or used him solely for his benefit.

“I shouldn’t have said what I did that day in the mountains. You were not the cause of my problems. I have Ciri in my life because of you. Even if you don’t particularly like her, I have Yennefer because of you.”

Jaskier did not look less angry.

“Jaskier.” Geralt sighed. He was not one for words, that had always been Jaskier. But if he wanted to keep the bard in his life, he knew he would have to talk his way into regaining his companion. He decided to be honest. “I miss you.”

“I don’t.” Jaskier said. This time, Geralt couldn’t stop the filch. “I don’t miss your patronizing tone, I don’t miss you leaving me behind while on the road in the mornings and having to catch up with you, I don’t miss your taciturn silence as though you talking to me is beneath you, and I definitely don’t miss your glares and ‘fuck off’ attitude you have had with me for so very long. I never asked for more than you could give Geralt. You think the mountain is the first time you hurt me?” At Geralt’s horrified face, Jaskier laughed cruelly again. “You have hurt me with your actions for far longer than with your words Witcher. And whatever I might actually miss about travelling with you, the reasons not to currently far outweigh whatever reasons you will undoubtedly propose to me to convince me to travel with you.”

Seeing Geralt with no retort, Jaskier nodded sharply. “Yes, that’s what I guessed. It is late. I promised my young friend I would see her in the morning.”

Jaskier moved to leave, but Geralt shot out his hand to grip his wrist. Jaskier looked back at him before shaking himself loose. “Good night Geralt.”

It sounded too much like goodbye.

///

That night, once he put away the swords and made one last round around the inn to make sure everything was quiet, he lay on his bed with the handkerchief from so long ago. After so long between his armor and the fight at Kaer Morhen, the cloth was a dull white, yet to Geralt, all he saw was the snow white tint from when he first received it. And even as he brought it to his nose to scent it, knowing full well the scent was gone, he yearned for the spark of comfort it always gave.

He wondered if he could steal something from Jaskier before the bard left his life forever. And oh how much did that thought hurt him. The rainbow kaleidoscope the bard brought into his life, Geralt had not even noticed until faced with the bard. The hamlet seemed far more colorful now compared to when they walked into it, despite nothing having changed. Growling and prowling to his window, Geralt opened it and allowed the cold breeze to fill the room, biting into his face. Feeling real.

He had never thought to pay attention to the colours of the world, to see the beauty. He was a Witcher. His job revolved around the chaos and darkness of the world, around eliminating it. He had always been told he belonged in the same dangerous darkness he sought to make safe, too terrifying for humans to look at.

But Jaskier had never cared had he? He had seen him after a hunt, white as a ghost, black veins running across his body, eyes pitch black and other. And he had embraced him, metaphorically and literally.

He stood at the window until the silver moon was more than half done with its journey across the sky before he closed the window and tried to get some sleep.

He dreams of vivid songbirds dancing and singing from treetops bathed in sunlight.

///

Geralt spent the day studiously avoiding the tavern above which he could scent Jaskier laying around. The closest he allowed himself to get was strolling casually beneath its windows and hearing the strumming of a familiar lute drifting across the hardwood walls.

Yennefer must have said something to Ciri, because the little girl thankfully did not bring up Jaskier at all. Yennefer rolled her eyes when Geralt sent her a grateful nod.

The sun had barely set when Ciri finally could not contain her excitement at seeing Jaskier and tore across the hamlet into the tavern. Much like last night, Jaskier was at the center of the still empty tavern, though it was starting to fill up. Today, he was in a shiny blue-silver doublet and trousers, a dark grey chemise peeking out from under the open doublet.

Jaskier glanced up when their group entered the tavern, and learning from last night, braced himself against the table so he didn’t fall to the floor when Ciri crashed into him.

“Darling, oh how you are a sight for truly sore eyes.” Jaskier whispered into Ciri’s hair, still loud enough for Geralt to hear with his enhanced senses. Geralt knew he should probably at least give them the illusion of privacy, but the sight of Jaskier with his Child Surprise, with his daughter was giving him heart palpitations. Jaskier’s smile was so full of warmth and love, Geralt equally envied Ciri for being the recipient and yearned to have such a look directed at him. Especially once Jaskier caught his eyes and gave him a cold and impassive stare.

“Jask-” Geralt started only for the bard to interrupt him.

“I have a performance to start. I asked the barkeep to keep the table we sat at yesterday vacant for you three.” Jaskier stated. "Yennefer."

“It is good to see you Jaskier.” Yennefer said, for once not adding on any snide remarks. Geralt saw the clench of Jaskier’s jaw as he nodded.

By that time, the tavern had become as crowded as yesterday, and no sooner had they taken their seats that different voices started to shout out names of ballads. Jaskier laughed agreeably and quietened them with a performer’s charm.

“My dear friends, fear not, I will be here tonight for as long as you demand, I shall get to all your requests. But I had a request from a darling friend of mine, and I haven’t seen her in so very long, so if you don’t mind, I will fulfill her request first?” Jaskier said.

The crowd grumbled but grew silent when Jaskier began to strum. He launched into “The Bear and the Maidan Fair”, sending raucous cheers through the crowd as they began to keep beat with claps and boot stomping. Ciri was fully invested too, the song had always been so funny and the chorus was so catchy. Yennefer watched her fondly, smiling at the reminder than between the enormous untapped magical power and the price on her head that had her fleeing from hamlet to village to town, she was still a scared little girl who deserved every bit of fun they could give her.

It went on like that for the rest of night, hours of the bard singing song after song, never showing his exhaustion. Geralt basked in his voice, fearing this might be the last time he got to hear it, and wasn’t that the irony? He had for so long wished for Jaskier to be quiet, and here he was hoping Jaskier never stopped singing.

Jaskier danced around the tavern, pulling people out into the crowd, young girls and old men alike, inviting them to dance the jig with him until the whole tavern was filled with joy and laughter. Ciri even pulled Yennefer onto the dance floor, swinging their arms around and just letting go of their stresses for a week.

When the crowd finally dispersed, Ciri was swaying on her feet, looking ready to fall asleep standing.

After he was finished collecting all his Jaskier wordlessly walked with them to the inn.

He even helped tuck Ciri into bed. As he went to leave, Ciri grabbed his sleeve. “Dandelion, will you please come with us?”

Jaskier felt a lump in his throat. He still had so much anger and hurt from the way he had been treated by Geralt and even if unintentionally, Yennefer. Yet the one asking was this sweet little girl he had returned to see every year, the one being forced to grow up far too soon. The one he had thought dead until she blew into the inn like a miracle. The one who he saw butchered or slain when he closed his eyes.

Fuck Geralt and Yennefer. If they didn’t like him, that was their problem.

He was not going to leave her when she was asking so sincerely. Bending down to brush a soft kiss to her forehead Jaskier caressed her cheek and replied quietly “Alright princess.”

Ciri smiled at him and closed her eyes drifting off to sleep immediately. Taking a deep breath and drinking in the peaceful sight in front of him, Jaskier stood up and faced the other two in the room.

“I don’t care if neither of you want me coming with you, I am coming because Ciri asked, and honestly I have known the girl longer and am willing to bet my very lute she trusts me far more than you two. So I am going to come with you to wherever you are taking her. Any objections?” Jaskier ended, knowing full well neither would speak up.

Yennefer looked resigned to her fate, and Geralt looked shocked, but, and Jaskier hated his heart for daring to feel a spark of anything, hopeful.

“Good. We should leave tomorrow. Resupply what you need, we can leave after lunch.”

As Jaskier swept out of the room to return to his own, Geralt would swear the fire was sparking a little brighter red than before.

#the witcher #the witcher fic #my fic #jaskier #geralt of rivia #geraskier #geraskier fic #yennefer of vengerberg #cirilla fiona elen riannon #give me one more chance #part 4 #I'm done with this fic #i'll be updating daily #let me know what you think!

[fangirlshrewt97]

The Witcher Fic - Give Me One More Chance (Part 5)

Author: Fangirlshrewt97

Fandom: The Witcher (TV Series)

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier|Dandelion, Geralt of Rivia & Yennefer of Vengerburg, Geralt of Rivia & Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Jaskier|Dandelion & Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon

Characters: Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier|Dandelion, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Yennefer of Vengerburg, Roach

Rating: Teen Audiences and Up (Swearing, Mild Gore)

Warnings: None Apply

Additional Tags: Post Episode S01E06: Rare Species, Emotionally Constipated Geralt of Rivia, Pining, Touch-Starved Geralt of Rivia, Whump, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt & Comfort, First Kiss, Getting Together, Canon-Typical Levels of Violence, Monsters, I really put Geralt through the wringer here, but I am ok with that because poor Jaskier did not deserve it, I do acknowledge though that Geralt is multiple levels of screwed up and maybe thought he was helping them both when he was actually hurting them

Summary: After the dragon hunt, Geralt tries to cope with his actions. And misses Jaskier a lot. But refuses to deal with his feeling even when it almost kills him.

Alternate title: 5 things Geralt misses about Jaskier + 1 he didn’t need to

Link to A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24389734

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

                                                             *****

Traveling together with Jaskier made the void Geralt had been feeling since the dragon hunt feel a little smaller but at the same time, just as deep as before. For the first few days, Jaskier barely acknowledged Geralt or Yennefer. He was also quieter than ever, though he maintained a constant stream of conversation with Ciri. He answered every question she threw at him, sometimes with outlandishly impossible answers that had her giggling. At night when they made camp, he took over cooking whatever ingredients Yennefer had bought in the previous town and whatever meat Geralt hunted.

He sang his songs, well, every song that did not have to do with Geralt in any way.

He did not touch Geralt. He did not speak to Geralt. He scarcely looked at Geralt.

Geralt wanted to shake the bard, beg him, plead for an accidental brush of their hands, a question out of habit, a peek from the corner of electric blue eyes.

But Jaskier gave him nothing. Demonstrating a mastery over his bodily reactions Geralt had not known the bard was capable of, Jaskier ignored him completely and intentionally.

Jaskier was even cordial with Yennefer, never outright cutting her with sharp words but not sparing a word that was not needed. Geralt would even venture to say they might be friends from the good-natured teasing he heard when he was out of their earshot.

Ciri saw all this, but surprisingly, or maybe totally unsurprisingly, after all how well did Geralt actually know her, the little princess took Jaskier’s side. Or perhaps not side, but she seemed to find his actions justifiable. A few times when Geralt was returning from a hunt, she heard Jaskier and Ciri rummaging about in camp. He heard her trying to convince Jaskier to give him a second chance. Jaskier stayed quiet.

///

After nearly three weeks of traveling together, of too quiet camps, non-music filled walks through possibly enemy woods, of distances so easy to close yet so insurmountable, Geralt was at his wits end. Yennefer had portaled herself and Ciri away, claiming that she had a friend who could help her with training for Cirilla and that the princess needed to remember what a bed felt like. Geralt had a suspicion based on the pointed glare both girls sent his way that they were actually conspiring to grant him some time alone with Jaskier.

Jaskier was mute as he watched the portal closed, getting back to setting up their camp in the same efficient way he had done when once upon a time it had always been just the two of them. Geralt knew he had to be the one to talk, since Jaskier was obviously not going to.

“Jaskier, we have some spices left, and I hear a deer nearby. What do you say we have a meal with some flavor for once?” Geralt asked, wincing at his own pathetic excuse for conversation.

Jaskier just hummed noncommittally. Geralt resisted the instinct to growl or run a rough hand through his hair. Was this what he had subjected Jaskier to all these years? But he did not have the talent the bard did to draw words out of others. Much less from someone who typically could not be stopped from talking. Needless to say, Geralt was frustrated and reaching the bottom of a very shallow pool of ideas.

Which is what he chose to blame for why he completely missed the sound of a monster approaching. Night had fallen, and both were sitting on opposite sides of the camp. He was brushing Roach while enjoying the absentminded strumming of Jaskier’s lute, the bard obviously composing inside his head. Geralt finished brushing and turned, only to feel his breath catch in his throat. Jaskier was glowing by the campfire, his pale yellow doublet casting golden shadows over his delicate features, the shadows making him look all the more unearthly. He was humming something under his breath, and Geralt had to strain his ears to catch it.

Had the bard always been so… lovely?

He was so enraptured in the blue of the bard’s wide open eyes that he entirely missed the alarm in those eyes. Roach’s neighing and shove with her snout was the only reason the endrega did not behead him.

“Geralt!” Jaskier screamed. Geralt did not even have time to enjoy the sound of his name passing through his bard’s lips in nearly a month before the endrega advanced, pinning him to the ground with on of it’s claws.

Geralt freed his arms enough to quickly sign Aard and throw the monster back against a tree. That dazed the creature long enough for Geralt to dive for his silver sword. Now armed, Geralt threw himself at the monster, swinging his sword and managing to cut of one of it’s claws. The endrega retaliated by smashing into him with its mace-like tail. Geralt’s unprotected skin tore easily under the spikes in the monster’s tail. A pained groan escaped him, but his training ensured he did not drop his sword.

The monster clawed at him again, executing a sharp cut into his right shoulder.

“Hey ugly! Try this on for size!” Jaskier shouted, voice dripping with fear yet underlined with the same steel as Geralt’s sword. When Geralt rolled his eyes in his direction, he saw Jaskier holding said sword, arms shaking with the weight but keeping the sword steady. Geralt vaguely recalled Jaskier saying he was nobility, he would have been taught the sword. Or at least fencing. His stance looked firm even if the sword didn't.

The creature snarled before dropping Geralt against the tree and advancing towards Jaskier. Just as Geralt feared that he was going to watch his bard get eviscerated, Jaskier threw something into the fire between him and the creature, making the fire roar up before transforming into a thick green cloud.

Geralt coughed as the smoke enveloped him thoroughly, grimacing as he pressed his abdominal wound closed. On the other side of the fire he could hear the creature screaming and screeching before steel sang through the cacophony and the noise cut off abruptly.

He was still coughing when a pain of hands grabbed him from below his shoulders. He yelled but the body behind him did not stop until they were clear of the camp and the smoke. Geralt was breathing hard and pale as the moon that shone through the trees when Jaskier deposited him against a tree.

Through the haze he saw a cut on the bard’s upper arm, but Jaskier brushed away his arm and cut open Geralt’s shirt with the small knife he always kept on him. He swore when he saw the extent of the bruising. Pressing firmly, he guessed at least two broken ribs, possibly three based on the volume of Geralt's groans.

“Damn it Geralt. Wait here. I will be right back, I need to find your potions.” Jaskier complained as he rose, only to yelp when Geralt yanked him back towards him, nearly sending the both toppling into the forest floor.

“Ow you bastard, I am only trying to help!”

“You… are…hurt…” Geralt rasped.

“Yes and you pulling me by the arm that was injured is not going to exactly make it better now is it?”

“Monster…”

“Is dead. Or at least it better be, the thing was in two pieces last I saw it. Plus we left poor Roach and my precious lute at the camp. Let me go check on them!” Jaskier said.

Geralt groaned but relented. Jaskier stumbled as he was suddenly released but stood up and tugged his doublet into place. “Thank you. I will be right back. Just… try not to get killed will you?”

Saying so, Jaskier disappeared between the tree lines. Geralt groaned again as he closed his eyes and lets his head thump back against the tree. Tonight had not gone at all as he had wanted.

True to his word though, Jaskier came back to where Geralt was, loud enough to wake the forest.

Cursing as he nearly tripped over a root he didn’t see, Jaskier dropped beside Geralt.

“Ok I have all your potions here. What do you want?” Jaskier asked, holding up Geralt’s potion bag. Geralt winced as he shifted against the tree, pretending to do so to get more comfortable and not because this way, Jaskier was leaning more heavily onto him.

“Dark green one. And clear potion in the square vial.” Geralt grit out.

Jaskier rooted around the bag before crowing victoriously as he held out his prize, quickly uncorking the two potions and helping Geralt swallow them. Geralt hissed as he felt the potions rushing through his veins, but settled as his healing was further boosted by the potions.

“Use my tunic.” Geralt slurred. Jaskier looked up confused from where had settled into Geralt’s side.

“What?”

“You are bleeding. Use my tunic. It is ripped.”

“Oh.” Jaskier said. He looks at his own injury, the wound a graze that has almost stopped bleeding. Deciding not to argue with the Witcher for once, he did as told and ripped up the shirt, wrapping the make-shift bandages around his upper arm. with the left over cloth, he wrapped them around Geralt so as to make sure the open wounds did not get infected.

They stayed like that for another moment until Geralt grunted and tried to shift.

“Come on, let’s get back to camp.”

“Are you sure? Can you walk?”

“Jaskier. It is cold and I don't have a shirt. We will both freeze overnight.” Geralt growled.

“Fine, fine off we go to the camp with the dead monster, why not?” Jaskier said as he placed an arm around Geralt’s waist and let the Witcher lean his weight on him as the two made their way back to camp.

Jaskier had Geralt sit back against the tree that Roach was still tied to while he went and reignited the fire that had almost been put out during the fight.

Geralt tried to push away Roach when the horse started to nibble on his hair, patting her nose to comfort her.

The endrega was lying several feet ahead of him, cleaved clumsily in half, his steel sword embedded haphazardly in it's abdomen. Jaskier was quiet as he set about cleaning the campsite, giving the monster’s corpse a wide berth.

“Should we be worried of more of those things coming after us?”

Geralt grunted. “Endregas are solitary creatures.”

“Oh small comfort I guess. Anything else going to attack us while we sleep?”

“No.”

“You sound confident.”

“If something comes for us, I will stop it.”

“Geralt I know I say…used to say you could defeat monsters in your sleep, but I didn’t actually mean it.”

“I am not going to sleep. You sleep.” Geralt bit back, trying to cover the hurt from Jaskier’s correction.

Geralt could make out a vein in Jaskier’s forehead, which was new, and he knew the timing was awful, but he found it equally amusing and adorable.

Jaskier took a deep breath and exhaled it before sitting in front of Geralt. Geralt felt oddly cornered with no escape. Which actually wasn’t entirely inaccurate.

“What was your plan?”

“Plan?”

“Plan for whatever you wanted to do without the girls around. And don’t insult my intelligence by saying us being left alone was not planned.” Jaskier said.

Geralt swallowed. The bard perpetually surprised him with his perceptiveness. He sighed.

“I told Yennefer to take Ciri it would be nice to have a couple nights for just us so we could have a chance to talk. So I could apologize.”

Jaskier groaned before mumbling something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like ‘stupid Witchers with skulls thicker than the mountains they get thrown against’.

Jaskier sat up from his slump and sat closer to Geralt, making his heart beat tick up. So close, Geralt felt like he would burn from the intensity of the gaze that seemed to pierce right to his soul.

“Before you start apologizing, I want to say that you're an idiot.”

“Hmm.”

“And I kind of hate you right now.”

Geralt flinched internally but kept his face blank. “I understand.”

“No you don’t you self-loathing bastard. I regret the 22 years that I spent with you.”

Geralt bit the inside of his cheek. Was this how Jaskier had felt when Geralt had screamed at him on that mountain that accursed day? Like his heart was being ripped to shreds, and his world was becoming darker with each passing breath? How had the bard ever found it in him not to chase Geralt out of his life in that village? But Geralt heard the slight change in Jaskier’s heartbeat and held on to it like a life line.

“That's not tru-”

Jaskier cut him off. “Okay, that's a lie. But you've really hurt me, Geralt.”

Geralt had a feeling that the expression on Jaskier’s face was yet another that would haunt him in his nightmares, in addition to his face on the dragon mountain and that stupid doppler that stole Jaskier’s visage.

Geralt weighed his words carefully before speaking. He was walking on a tightrope and he had this sharp feeling in his gut that if he messed up this conversation, he would never get his bard back. “I... I know. I'm sorry. You... You didn't deserve any of it.”

“Keep going.”

“You've always been good to me... You're the reason people don't hate me anymore... You were by my side when nobody else was.” Geralt verbalized slowly.

“Glad you finally noticed that, but it doesn't really sound like an apology.”

Geralt clenched his fist. Jaskier was making this unnecessarily difficult. But this was a problem that could only be solved with words not steel or silver or grunts and looming appearances.

Closing his eyes so he didn’t have to see Jaskier’s face, Geralt inhaled deeply and laid his heart out for him.

“I'm sorry I didn't appreciate it. I was a fool. Now I get it. You were always kind, thoughtful, loyal. All you wanted in return was to go on adventures and find inspiration for your songs. I should have respected that. But all I did was treat you as a nuisance and a bother. When you might be the only true friend I have had who chose to be my friend out of his own free will and not because you had a duty to put up with me or were tied to my by something.” Geralt finished, gasping. His hands were so tightly clenched he could feel his nails making crescent indentations into the rough skin of his palm.

Jaskier stayed quiet in front of him. When he pried his eyes open, and hesitantly looked up, the bard was sitting in front of him with a stunned expression and a gaping mouth.

“Jaskier?”

No response.

Geralt tentatively released one hand and barely brushed it on Jaskier’s hand before the bard seemed to crash back into reality.

Geralt and Jaskier froze, hardly daring to breathe. The millimeter of skin Geralt had pressed against the bard felt as though it was on fire.

Jaskier finally gasped out a soft “Oh, you idiot.”

Geralt hardly got the words “What did I say-” before the bard was crashing into him. Geralt tensed up for a minute before feeling all his stress melt away in the bard’s arms. He wrapped both arms around Jaskier and pressed the bard in close, burying his nose into soft brown hair that smelled of sweat and faintly, lavender. In his current position, Jaskier was practically straddling Geralt, his body a line of heat that warmed Geralt to his core.

Jaskier sobbed into his ear “You idiot. Geralt... I... Yes, I wanted those things, but it wasn't what mattered. I... All I ever wanted was you.”

Geralt felt a lump in throat, his heart matching the wild thumping of Jaskier’s own. Today had started off as a nightmare where he had been sure he was going to loose the bard, and now Jaskier was telling him, what? That he…cared for Geralt?

Geralt whispered, scared that if he said the words any louder this moment would break, or worse he would find out it had all been an illusion “All these years... Don't take this the wrong way, but I thought that this was... I thought that once you satisfied yourself, got all the songs and stories you needed out of me, I mean-” Geralt grunted tightening his arms around Jaskier’s waist as he mulled on what to say. “I thought you will get bored with me eventually. I didn't think that you'd… that you might have feelings for me. Beyond friendship. Or companionship. And it is fine if that is all you feel for me Jaskier. I just want to travel with you again. I… I have missed you far too much.” He confessed, his secret out now, no longer weighing him or eating at him.

Jaskier stayed quiet once again, and Geralt feared he had once again said the wrong thing. He loosened his arms even as every muscle in his body was screaming at him to hold on and never let go. Jaskier smelled of confusion, and underlying it was his personal scent of honey and sunshine.

Geralt was so focused on his own thoughts he nearly missed Jaskier’s faint voice

“Feelings? For... How long?”

Geralt tried to suppress the hope blooming in his chest at Jaskier’s own hopeful words, no disgust or rejection in them.

Shrugging, Geralt said “Give or take five to six years.”

Jaskier jaw opened and closed a few times as he lip synched Geralt’s admission before unexpectedly punching him in the arm with the injury.

Geralt groaned. “What was that for?

“Shit sorry. But seriously? Five to six YEARS? You unbelievable idiot, Geralt why the hell would you not tell me?”

Geralt shrugged again, barely not wincing as the movement jostled his injured shoulder.

“You- oh, oh you just-” Jaskier sputtered, slapping his own forehead before pinching his nose. “Ok listen to me you thick-skulled buffoon. I am in love with you. 1000% gone on you. Pining after you so bad the whole continent could see it.”

Now it was Geralt’s turn to gape. He let out a strangled “What?”

Jaskier’s shoulders slumped. “Geralt, we are not made for monogamy. I know that. We have had far too many paramours to pretend otherwise. But do you know why Yennefer was always the one that got under my skin?” At Geralt’s silence, Jaskier continued “She was the one who had a chance. God Geralt, look at her. She is one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen in my life, she is terrifying and powerful, and knows what she wants. She is as immortal as you.” Jaskier’s voice was frail for his next declaration. “How could a mere bard stand up to all that?

Jaskier’s head dropped, and he wrung his hands until Geralt covered them with one of his, the other cupping Jaskier’s jaw and setting his every nerve on fire.

“How long?”

Jaskier whispered “From the moment I met you.” Geralt spied a few tears gathering in Jaskier’s eyes. “Gods. I can't believe it. So much wasted time…”

“Guess we're both idiot.” Geralt offered before pulling Jaskier in closer until they could feel the other’s breath on each other’s faces. “Can I kiss you?”

Jaskier’s breath hitched before he nodded. Unable to wait another second, Geralt closed the gap between them.

It was a simple kiss, just a press of rough lips against dry ones, but both men felt a joy foreign to them flood them and threaten to drown them. They broke to merely gulp a breath before diving into a second kiss that was far more passionate.

As both men fell back against the tree, uncaring of the rough bark, Roach snorted something that had they been paying attention could almost have been interpreted as “Fucking finally.”

#the witcher #the witcher fic #geralt of rivia #Jaskier #cirilla fiona elen riannon #yennefer of vengerberg #geraskier #geraskier fic #i'm done with the fic #i'll be updating daily #let me know what you think! #part 5