#geraskier bath

[some-froggish-lad]

Id like to propose Geralt walking into their inn room injured and grimmy after a hunt being called Bard, Bath and Beyond.

[astaldis]

Jaskier’s evil masterplan 😉

You can read the one-shot fic “Time to take a bath” on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/35880148

[rebrandedbard]

Geraskier Bathhouse Au

Jaskier works at the bathhouse, mixing soaps and stuff

Geralt comes in one day, dripping blood

Nobody else wants to attend him so Jaskier volunteers

Oh No Witcher Hot

witcher refuses to tell jaskier his name or speak much

Helps him take off armour the first time

barely stops from undressing his clothes

Geralt comes in DIRTIER next time

needs help with clothes

jaskier strips him down piece by piece

geralt gives his name

third time, geralt's sore and needs help with his back

massage time

jaskier gets to feel his bare skin

geralt starts talking a little more

fourth time, geralt allows jaskier to wash and comb his hair

emotional bonding happens

Soft Time

fifth time geral is injured and allows jaskier to patch him up

jaskier might leave a little kiss on the stitches

sixth time, Jaskier joins him at long last in the tub

Things get a little Steamy (bath pun)

jaskier gets kicked out of the reputable bath house for indecency

jaskier happily becomes a travelling bard

and fucks his witcher on the reg

And this is why you should take a nice hot bath every now and then with bubbling soaps and fancy shampoo. It so inspires <3

[jayden-killer]

AFFECTION.

previous part: HOLE IN THE EARTH.

summary: Miguel learns from his mistakes and how he needs the Reader in his life.

warnings: none, some light angst to fluff.

a/n: I'm so happy that my one-short is doing so well that people requested a part 2! Can you believe it?!?!?!😭😭It was unexpected. Thank you so much for the support!! It means very much to me. I wish I could hug you all!!!!💗💗💗

taglist: @geraskier-thots @melodyuu @chiikasevennn @roxytheimmortal @yasmim18fjw @bittersw33t-lotus @voidhope @laysmt @thel0velykey190 @xiangping-28 @emmaiooo @sukioyakio

Plick, plick, plick...

You wrapped the soft blanket closer to your face. Outside the weather was not the best: it rained heavily, with a few gusts of wind now and then. The temperature had dropped. Maybe the time outside was the mirror of how you felt at that moment. You imagined that no one was on the street, otherwise, they would catch a cold. Your two and a half weeks had not gone well at all. As a broken record, your memory postponed that scene of tension and fear: the screams of Miguel, his words full of venom, and how he did not intend to go on and leave the past to the past. His words hurt you at the bottom, with no way out. And you had to run away as if running away from him solved every problem. Unfortunately, it didn’t go that way. And the problems got worse.

You had nightmares about nightmares, and you cried because you thought for every second that he was right. But part of you knew he was in the wrong, and it was his turn to apologize (let’s be clear, he never would. You knew how proud Miguel was of himself to take days to apologize). This time it was different because he didn’t want to see you anymore. Your relationship? Done with it. Forever.

You breathed a long sigh and your eyes closed. You needed rest, and you knew it too. All that thinking had melted your brain, and it wasn’t good for your health. You had to think about yourself and move on. You would have found better, because Miguel wasn’t the only man on the planet, and yet...he was him. He couldn’t be replaced. Once he knocked on the door of your heart, it was impossible to close it in his face.

Knock, knock, knock, knock!

Y/N turned his head, and her eyes met a tall, slender figure, seemingly a rather large tree branch. But she didn’t have trees that grew near her window. Also, she lived on the seventh floor.

Taking off her blanket, Y/N cautiously approached the window and found herself face to face (almost) with his now ex Miguel O'Hara, in his Spider-man suit, soaked from head to toe due to bad weather. She gasped and immediately opened the window, letting the man enter the warmth of her cosy apartment. Miguel closed the window behind her, then turned to look at her.

The two exchanged awkward looks, but the first to speak was Miguel. He had taken off his mask: his hair was also wet.

"Were you sleeping?"

A short pause followed. "Not really. Would you like...a towel?" she asked slightly, pointing to his dripping dark curls. He nodded softly and sat down on the leather sofa, his head bent forward. Y/N returned from the bath with a dry towel and handed it to him. Miguel nodded for a second time, this time of thanksgiving, beginning to absorb excess water with it. The girl sat at the edge of her bed, looking at Miguel with fear and mixed curiosity.

"What are you doing here?" she finally asked. He glanced at her, wetting his lips with the tip of his tongue. The towel was around his neck. As dumb as she was, full of emotions and thoughts buzzing around in Y/N’s head, she couldn’t help but notice how beautiful he was even soaking wet.

"You didn’t make the last report."

Was that really what he was worried about? The absence of Y/N just for stupid missions? She sighed and shook her head. "Is that what bothered you so much to come here?"

"Not only that."

"Go on," she made a gesture of continuation.

Miguel put a hand over his face as if he was looking for the right words for his next speech. Y/N studied him carefully, looking away from time to time.

"I'm so sorry for what I did last time I saw you. I-I was...I am a dick. A real one" A dry chuckle. "I shouldn't have said those things. I didn't mean any of those words." He looked at Y/N with a pleading look. She furrowed her eyebrows. "You know very well how apologies are not made for me."

"Indeed." She crossed her arms, refusing to look at Miguel’s repentant face. On the other hand, he was looking at her, almost in tears. It was a fragile situation for both sides. "I always told you that the important thing is the intention." Said Y/N with a breif voice, massaging her arm. Miguel tilted his head. He remained silent.

"And you, you came here alone, with the rain and the wind blowing, just to apologize or... Is there anything else?"

The Spider-man got up from the sofa, slowly approaching Y/N, not wanting to rush things. He knew that last time he had scared her enough. And he didn’t want to make that same mistake.

"You’re not a crybaby... Or a burden. Nothing of that..."

"Last time, you seemed very determined about your words."

"I assure you, I didn't mean any shit coming from my mouth."

She huffed. She looked at the dusty ground. "I was serious about...Gabriella last time."

Miguel cringed at Gabriella's name and moved his head to look out the window. The weather had calmed slightly, the rain now mild, with a few droplets beating on the glass. Even the leaves of the trees weren’t moving as hard as before. Maybe...everything was getting lighter. "You’re right."

"I am always right." A small smile made its way on Y/N’s face, bringing her lips up and anxiously peering into Miguel’s face. He felt his mortification.

She gently carried her trembling hand on the right cheek of Y/N and she at once got used to the touch. A contact that she lacked, that was always so beautiful to receive. "Gabriella loves you, but she wants you to move on, Miguel. I’m not saying you have to forget what happened, but now you have to think about healing. Taking care of yourself."

He brought his face closer to hers and their foreheads rested on each other. The two closed their eyes and the only noise they heard was the breaths and the slight wind coming from outside. They joined little by little in a tight embrace, and seemed to forget what had happened. Y/N forgave Miguel, and he apologized for his mistakes.

"I know," Miguel whispered. "She would have loved you. She would have wanted a mother like you."

She smiled even more, taking his hand and holding it in hers, not too hard. "I love you."

"I love you too, Miguel."

He girded her even more, bringing her to himself. Miguel felt well. And he would no longer allow his emotions or his past to go against the one good thing in his life, his present and soon, future.

[fandomtookoverlife]

Ok Ik we’ve been joking about reverse tropes but the reverse one bed trope could and probably has worked for geraskier

Like they get a room at the inn and there’s two beds and they are both secretly really upset about it bc they both crave each others touch so much and the only time they really get to enjoy it is when they are pretending to sleep

Or the when they approach the innkeeper to rent a room for the night and they are all, “oh don’t worry about us just the one room with the one bed, wouldn’t want to put out your already showing us so much generosity” trying to j get the one room and one bed and out of the conversation but the innkeeper is like “No no I insist, the Witcher is doing our town such a great service and you master bard look oh so wary from the road we can’t have you tired before you performance tonight we have so many people looking forward to it! You simply must each have your own bed! I’m tact you must each have your own room on the house” *undignified protests* “none sense in fact we will have two baths delivered to each of your rooms at the same time yes what a splendid idea- no you must accept our show of gratitude ok here are your keys off you go bye bye”

*cue one miserable bard and one equally miserable Witcher*

Bonus points if Yennefer told the innkeeper that the boys hate staying in the same room and find it wholly impolite and such impropriety reflects badly on the whole town- j bc she’s seen the two idiots and is tired of their pinning bull shit - but is also a meddlesome little shit herself (affectionately)

[joestarlight]

Throwing this into the Geraskier void.

I love this painting, “The Meeting on the Turret Stairs” and would love to see an artist do a Geraskier take on it. I unfortunately cannot draw, but I offer you a little drabble inspired by it. Hope you enjoy!

Jaskier was still getting used to Kaer Morhen. The drafty hallways, the rooms that hadn’t had a person in them for decades, and the Witchers in it who bathed even less than Geralt. Still, they were a rowdy bunch who loved a good song and a pretty face. Jaskier provided them with both, and they were his best audience in years.

But he’d be damned if he ever figured out these staircases. There were so many within the keep, many with uneven stone steps that were easy to miss when one was distracted by the beautiful view out the window. Snowy mountain tops covered with evergreen trees, and the sun looming high over the landscape captured his attention every time.

Still, he had to grab his lute to practice before dinner. He had a new song in mind, one that had been growing for a long time, but tonight, he finally wanted to share it. He had a sneaking suspicion it might make a particular Witcher blush, and he was determined to find out. So he climbed up a few more stairs, only to see his Witcher standing before him, armor on and eyes fixed on Jaskier. 

“Geralt…a little late to be training, isn’t it?”

“I promised Eskel a spar.”

“Mmm, well may the best Witcher win.” Jaskier took a step up, raising his hand to brush against Geralt’s armor as he moved. Much to his surprise, Geralt raised his hands and held tight to his arm. 

“Tonight…” Geralt began, and Jaskier sighed, resting his head against the wall as his Witcher leaned in to press a kiss to the inside of his elbow. “Tonight what? You’ll hold me for warmth? You’ll curl up against me and fall asleep without another word?” Jaskier glanced down at him. “And you’ll leave me wondering if I am anything more than an extra fur in your bed." He watched Geralt’s lips part in protest, and The Witcher shook his head.

“Tonight, bring wine up to my room. We’ll talk. And then take it from there.”

Jaskier took one of Geralt’s hands and pressed it to his lips. He knew exactly where he planned to take it, if Geralt would allow him to. And tonight...just maybe he would. 

“Don’t be late for dinner. I’m going to play. And then we can…talk.” Geralt nodded, and their touch slowly slipped apart. Jaskier continued up the stairs, choosing not to linger by the next window. He had some practicing to do before dinner, for if this was to be the song he finally woo’d Geralt with, he damn well would make sure it was perfect.

[kingthunder]

Geraskier prompt: Unbidden first kiss (bonus if it's in the morning)

Jaskier was woken in the dark before dawn by Geralt buckling his armor on.

“What unholy hour is it?” Jaskier said, yawning. “Whatever it is, it’s either too early or too late. Come back to bed.” This was the first bed they’d had in over a week, and it was a nice one, filled with sweet, fresh smelling straw. It was even nicer when he had a warm body next to him. Nicest when the body was Geralt.

“This is the best time for hunting graveirs,” Geralt said. He checked his sword for sharpness before sliding it into its sheath.

Oh, right. The contract Geralt had picked up yesterday evening when they got into town.

Jaskier yawned again. “Be back before lunch. I want to make it to the festival today and you’re going to need a bath.”

Geralt only grunted. He came over to pick up something off the bedside table that Jaskier couldn’t make out in the dark. Jaskier propped himself up on one elbow and grabbed Geralt’s wrist.

“And be safe,” Jaskier said. He hadn’t meant it to sound as soft as it did, almost pleading. He squeezed Geralt’s hand and Geralt squeezed back, and Jaskier’s face was tipped up towards him, and when Geralt leaned in it seemed like the most natural thing in the world. Geralt’s lips were chapped but soft. It was short and sweet and chaste and Jaskier could have been knocked over with a feather afterwards.

“You too,” Geralt said nonsensically, and then he was grabbing his pack, and the door was shutting behind him.

Jaskier fell back on the bed with his fingers touching his lips where Geralt’s had just been. Oh, he thought, his belly fluttering. Oh, Geralt is going to act so stupid about this later.

He fell asleep smiling.

[ghostinthelibrarywrites]

If you still want prompts, how about 2 for Geraskier? 💚💕

2. A casual touch on the shoulder to acknowledge them

Jaskier is sitting by the campfire, hunched over his lute as he mulls over a particularly tricky lyric, when he’s startled by the unexpected feeling of a hand brushing his shoulder. With a shriek, he startles and drops his lute. It’s not until a hand snaps out and seizes his lute before it can crash to the ground that he realizes that it’s not some ruffian who’s snuck up on him while he’s composing, but Geralt.

“Geralt!” Jaskier claps a hand over his chest. “You just scared the shit out of me! I didn’t know it was you!”

Holding Jaskier’s lute in one hand and an apple in the other, Geralt looks at him blankly. “Who else would it have been?”

“I don’t know! That’s why I was scared shitless.” Jaskier doesn’t point out that in the months they’ve been traveling together, Geralt has touched him a grand total of three times. Once was the punch that Jaskier can fully admit that he deserved. The second time was when he grabbed Jaskier’s arm to drag him away from a drowner who was about to snatch him while he bathed. The third time was to press a damp cloth over a gash in Jaskier’s arm left by a griffin. All three times, the contact was brief and businesslike, lasting mere seconds.

Jaskier gets the impression that Geralt doesn’t like being touched, which has been an adjustment. He’s used to exchanging casual touches with his friends and family—kissing his mother and sisters on the foreheads, picking up his nieces and nephews and spinning them around, throwing an arm around Essi’s shoulders, leaning against Valdo while they sit together. But every time Jaskier forgets himself and claps a hand on Geralt’s shoulder or picks a bit of grave hag out of his hair, the witcher looks like he’s just swallowed something sour.

Geralt snorts and holds out the apple. “Here. Your stomach has been growling for an hour.”

“Oh.” Jaskier blinks and takes the apple. Now that he’s not entirely focused on his composition, a new version of Toss a Coin recounting Geralt’s heroic defeat of a wyvern, he can feel the hollowness of hunger in his belly. “Thank you, Geralt. That’s… very thoughtful.”

“Hm. All the rumbling is disturbing my meditating.”

“And me playing the lute isn’t?”

“Getting fucking used to that,” Geralt grumbles, handing Jaskier his lute, and turns away.

Jaskier finds himself grinning at Geralt’s back. “Does that mean you’re starting to like my music?”

All that gets him is another grumble, but Jaskier’s spirits aren’t dampened. Because this is the first time that Geralt has ever touched him just to touch him. It wasn’t much, just a simple hand on his shoulder. It certainly wasn’t the myriad ways he’s guiltily fantasized about Geralt touching him over the last few months. But it’s still the first sign the witcher has given that he’s starting to grow comfortable in Jaskier’s company. That someday, he might even like having Jaskier around.

“Thank you, my friend,” he calls.

“Not your friend,” Geralt says, as Jaskier expected him to. Ah well, progress is progress, no matter how slow.

Jaskier takes a bite of his apple. It’s the best thing he’s tasted in a long time.

24 Touches Prompts

Tag list: @kueble @mollymawkwrites @feral-jaskier @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde @dawnofbards @thisislisa @tsukiwolf42 @mosaicscale @rockysstupidity @fontegagrilledcheese @kuripon @help-i-need-a-cool-username @julek @flowercrown-bard @eveljerome @toapoet

[inexplicifics]

💛 for either Geraskier or Eskel/Geralt?

Each year, Eskel trudges up the long steep trail to Kaer Morhen. Some years, there is a heavily-laden horse at his heels; some years, he carries his own packs and drags a dog-cart of supplies. Some years it’s snowing; other years, the fallen leaves are slick and treacherous beneath his boots. Some years he is so weary and gaunt that the Trail nearly defeats him. Some years he has the strength to help a weaker brother along the way.

Each year thus far, he’s made it to the top, to the great iron-bound gates and the roughly cobbled courtyard of the keep. Each year, he stables his horse if he has one and brings his supplies down to the cellars, empties the filthy clothing from his pack into the big communal laundry baskets and sets the alchemical supplies he’s brought neatly onto the shelves of the storage room near the labs. Each year, he draws himself a bath in the low-ceilinged, damp cavern down beneath the kitchen, and dumps Igni-warmed water over his head until it runs clear before he sits down in the tub and soaks his aches away. Each year, he ladles himself a bowl of stew from the pot kept always boiling at the back of the hearth, and eats his fill. Each year, he makes his slow way up the winding stairs to the familiar furs of his bed, and collapses into it with immense relief.

And it’s good, always, to be clean and well-fed and safe and comfortable, to know that for a few months he will not have to worry about where his next meal will come from or whether the next contract will be his death.

But it’s not home, not yet.

Not until Geralt comes slogging up the Trail - he always comes back late, after everyone else has already been back in the keep for days - and through the creaky ancient gates. Not until Geralt’s much-mended clothing is in the hamper waiting for whichever poor bastard has laundry duty that week. Not until Geralt has eaten a bowl or three of stew, enough to put a little color in his cheeks.

Not until Geralt is safe in the big bed they share, nestled down in the furs and blankets with Eskel stretched out on top of him, his arms wound around Eskel’s shoulders and his lips chapped and thin and perfect under Eskel’s own.

Then, and only then, is Eskel home.

(Or here on AO3!)

[tallfroggie]

*I walk up. I take off my incredibly fashionable hat. I toss it into the ring* Here. Geraskier bath time.

[viking-raider]

So, we can all agree that it’s pretty much canon after season 3 that Jaskier is in love with Geralt, right?

I mean the conversation in the carriage where he pauses and goes “…people I love.” His sidelong look when Geralt refers to his torture at the hands of Rience to Codringer and Fen before adjusting his face and then shrugging it off even as Geralt glances at him. His over exaggerated refusal of how Geralt’s the family goat and totally platonic! Even though he’s doing all he can to help him like you would someone you’re in love with. The not answering Radovid verbally when he asks if Geralt is aware how lucky he is to have him…

I think we can all put it to bed on whether or not it’s canon, Jaskier is absolutely in love with Geralt and this Radovid romance is what he’s using as a distraction because he believes Geralt will never love him.

What IS interesting and something I’m immensely pleased about is that Henry has spent this past first half of the season being so open to Jaskier and his affections. It absolutely has to be on purpose and not just what was written. The nuance of their interaction has been things you can’t completely write as actionable thing. Like, that conversation in the hall could have been delivered flatly and Henry chose to deliver it longingly, the gently touching him on the battlefield could have been a comrade complimenting another and instead Henry gave Jaskier such soft eyes and loving expression, the reliance on him in the forest and willingness to hear him out without jumping to conclusions on betrayal could have been sterner and instead was full of affection and familiarity…I love that Henry and Joey allowed for that intimacy and that they’re aware of the fans love of Geraskier and that they’re giving us so much!

Oh, I know Jaskier has the feels for Geralt. From the moment that moment with the bath and "rubbing chamomile on his lovely bottom." and admiring his 'bloated biceps'. It's so much more noticeable in S3 though and I'm living for every moment of it. I'm just so damn sad that the tenderness between Geralt and Jaskier didn't come until Henry's last season. It won't be the same with Liam. nothing against him or anything, but Joey and Henry have that bond and chemistry.

[restless-witch]

nothing in the world is mine, but my love, mine

hey hey I did a one-shot for once, I've posted it on Ao3 here but I know some of y'all like to read fic on tumblr so it's below the cut

Comments and likes always appreciated <3

He clocks the bard as either noble or a romantic the moment he sees the gloves on his hands. They're subtle, as far as the custom goes, a dark olive colored kidskin with a simple flower button wrapped around his wrist and covering only his thumb. The Witcher always wears gloves of a kind, Jaskier determines after a few weeks on the path together, though out of utility. a quick soulmates AU where soulmates have matching marks on the sides of their hands // title shamelessly stolen from Mitski's "My Love Mine All Mine"

Rated: T for swearing

Fandom: The WItcher TV

Pairing: Geraskier (Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier), background Yennralt (Yennefer of Vengerber/Geralt of Rivia)

Language: English

He clocks the bard as either noble or a romantic the moment he sees the gloves on his hands. They're subtle, as far as the custom goes, a dark olive colored kidskin with a simple flower button wrapped around his wrist and covering only his thumb. 

It's not satisfying when the bards confirms both to be true on their way to investigate the devil but when they're being kicked by Toruviel, he thinks that if the bard was a full gloved wearing hack then they'd both be dead.

Which also isn't satisfying.

.

The Witcher always wears gloves of a kind, Jaskier determines after a few weeks on the Path together, though out of utility.

Apparently the most dressed down the witcher ever gets is a pair of fingerless gloves worn even to sleep. Something about improving his grip and tendon injuries- Geralt tenses up when he can sense Jaskier wants to ask if witchers even have marks. Jaskier can feel how fragile their friendship is. He doesn't press the issue.

He hopes that puts a mark in his favor.

.

By the end of the season, Geralt determines the bard has no less than seven pairs of gloves- yet only two of them are permitted to actually get dirtied. Two suede pairs to match the colors of his "lover's eyes" (unoriginally brown and blue), three pairs for wearing in town, and a scant two pairs for all his bathing, cooking, and laundry.

It's utterly ridiculous.

Before they part at Ban Glan for the winter, he tells the bard to get more sensible gloves before spring on the Path.

He's at Ard Carraig before he realizes he planned for the bard to join him again.

.

When he returns to Oxenfurt, the two pairs of gloves he has for washing are nearly worn to shreds- he throws them down on the table at the Wishful Warbler with a grin when Shani asks about his travels. He's going on real adventures with his-maybe-friend-Geralt and getting dirty and everything. He spends the winter as a research assistant to Professor Berlyn and learning to make stacks of washing gloves.

His friends, who largely only own a pair or two or have entirely dispensed with the custom, are overrun with gloves of varying quality. Priscilla generously accepts a stack whose thumbs must all be split open to accommodate even her dainty digit.

He manages to barter for a pair of amber saffron dyed kidskin gloves- painstakingly transcribing Metz's treatises on celestial calendars small enough for Valdo Marx to use them as crib notes.

It's worth it.

It's a true lark to set them along with his brown and blue gloves and he whistles when they meet up in the spring and he waggles them in Geralt's face and thinks Geralt is about to strangle him- before the ludacris stack of washing gloves topples out of his bag onto the witcher's lap and he can't help but bark a laugh into Jaskier's delighted face.

.

He knows the bard is, at least, serious about walking the Path when he drops the stack of gloves on Geralt's lap. It's a bit of a child's attempt at adulthood, he admits to himself because he knows it would crush the bard to know twenty years of life does not make a man.

Still, it dampens his concerns of noble nonsense a bit to see where the calluses from needlework have made his fingertips even more knobby alongside the ones from his lute. For all the work Jaskier puts into his hands- carefully filing down his calluses and nails when they crack and rubbing ointments in before he beds down- Geralt can see it's a dedication to practicality and not vanity.

The bard is unconcerned by the healing scars where broken strings have cut into the flesh or the uneven tan marks across the backs of his hands where the different gloves have sat.

.

Jaskier wonders, just a teensy bit, if Geralt's glove wearing excuse isn't a little... weak.

Always needing his full grip strength?

It's a lighthearted solstice evening where he's helping Geralt in the bath when the witcher turns his head to the side, immediately stands up and storms over to the next room (nearly cock out and everything if Jaskier hadn't thought to throw the bath sheet at him) and throws an unwanted suitor off the serving girl.

There's suds dripping out of Geralt's hair all over the floor that he knows he'll wipe up later with the very gloves he's wearing now and Jaskier thinks he is maybe falling in love, for real this time.

.

A handful of times, he catches the bard cooing over marks in taverns. He wonders if it's a bit- some flirtation over how a lass or lad with such lovely signs could possibly take up with a scoundrel like him. 

It's not the most rakish bit he could suspect of the bard- though he notices the bard never takes off his gloves in return. He wears them even in the cities and hamlets where the custom is less common or replaced with simple patches of dyed skin.

It makes him seem damn right virginal to keep them on all the time. 

Perhaps the bard's mark is something obscene- it's not unheard of. If that were true though, he suspects the bard would leverage it into some pickup line about his prowess in bed. 

Perhaps the bard has no marks- a person blessedly free of obligation or destiny. 

He thinks it would be a kinder fate for Jaskier to be free of those kinds of concerns.

.

Jaskier knows his fastidiousness with wearing gloves is a little unusual for the current fashion but he commits to the bit. 

He thinks it's more romantic to have them revealed and thinks his are especially gorgeous; a simple sun on his right hand and a moon on his left, a small comet arcing over each and a few lines he thinks are wind or perhaps clouds. He's seen more ornate or filigreed marks- even the occasional mark with a splash of color- but his marks are so curiously endearing. 

When he links his bare hands together he sees a miniature of the universe and hopes that one day, he may hold his soulmate's marks against his own and feel the world between their hands.

He'll admit he's kept the privilege of the reveal to himself; but he'll be a little selfish if it means he can know to watch their delight when he reveals a world in his hands- a world to share.

He's not sure where his soulmate will fit in this life he's made in Oxenfurt and on the Path, but he never could have predicted the love that's already sprung up in his life already.

.

It's a very late night, or a very very early morning, when Geralt asks Yennefer about her marks- the marks erased when she became a mage.

"Never had one," she says, teasingly tracing the edge of his gloves, "I never needed fate to find love."

In the dark, between a sigh and a moan, his gloves are cast away.

When the sun has properly risen and midday creeps closer, she holds hands between her own.

"Rather provincial, aren't they?" She brings the tender pale flesh of his palm to her mouth and bites playfully, "I'd expect nothing less of a Rivian."

"Not quite a Rivian," he says and gently wriggles his fingers against her jaw, smiling as she can't help laugh and let the marks out of her teeth, "are they to your liking?"

Her answer comes as a carafe of apple juice.

.

It's a hard day: starting with Geralt stumbling through a portal smelling of lilac and gooseberries and ending with Jaskier dragging a nearly-drowned Geralt out of a waterhag's shack.

Two baths were called- a rare luxury in a rickety town- for Jaskier knew a shared bath would end up with at least one of them more disgusting at the end. Geralt is, Melitele be praised, uninjured besides a black eye that blooms stark against the lingering potion-pale pallor he'd had earlier.

The two strip and Jaskier climbs into his bath: Geralt casts a look at the door and cocks his head and throws his pus-soaked gloves straight into the chamberpot.

They soak, side by side,  and chatter tiredly and Jaskier thinks nothing of it when Geralt offers to perk up his water and he sees the moon and comet and dappled lines on Geralt's right hand as he casts Igni into the bath.

The smell of lilac and gooseberries and fucking are starting to sweat out of Geralt's hair and the memories of the wedding feast cut through him, unbidden, and Jaskier should have won another master's degree in performance for the way he blames the jump in his heart on the scalding water.

The curling misery he later blames on the thought of ridding the swamp stench from his boots.

.

Jaskier learns to knit gloves sometime around when Geralt forces himself to admit the bard is past boyhood. It's a rather domestic skill for Jaskier to learn in adulthood, though he claims they're easier to make and repair on the Path: which isn't a lie exactly and the bard does earn them a few coins fiddling with the needles in town and selling the gloves.

The knitted gloves seem to be his preference now- less prone to tearing as they wear and able to go longer without laundering. It's the threads of anxiety beneath it that give Geralt pause, he's been presuming Jaskier was unmarked entirely and wore the gloves for attention, but the longer he guards the little span of flesh the more Geralt thinks a tragedy must lie beneath the scraps of fabric.

Perhaps the person he shared his marks with had rejected him- though Geralt thought that unlikely given how firmly Jaskier had attached himself to Geralt's side despite him trying to outrun the bard for a year. Whoever shared his marks didn't stand a chance against Jaskier's persistence. Against his smile.

Perhaps the person he shared his marks with was already dead. Geralt didn't believe in the machinations of destiny or soulmarks, but that too twisted at him. Jaskier was a scoundrel, yes, but didn't deserve that so early in life. At the very least, it would explain why the bard wasn't concerned to muck with his fate by sharing his time with a witcher.

At the very least, he counts their time together as a blessing now, even if it's stolen from another.

.

Jaskier thinks it's finally time to come clean about his marks- their marks really. Not all marks are about just two people, he knows that, and Yennefer isn't the worst person to share a life with. 

Honestly, he already does- Geralt's adverse to destiny but Yennefer would be sensible working out some kind of custody schedule if they didn't want to invite him in. He shares his life with Geralt, which is more than many soulmates get. He's not even sure he wants more of their lives shared, but the longer he keeps the marks hidden- the more the omission feels like a lie. 

The more he knows he's lying to Geralt.

He figures it's an even shot Geralt that he'll never see him again or he'll be invited to winter at the Kaer.

It turns out he didn't even need the marks to drive Geralt away, being himself was enough. 

"See you around Geralt."

.

A week after the dust settles and the Deathless Mother has been banished from their plane, Geralt notices Jaskier's gloves stretch from wrist to fingertip and when Jaskier is pulled into what is rapidly becoming Yennefer's lab, he can hear a sympathetic pained groan from Yennefer as Jaskier's fingers are rebroken.

.

Geralt knocked against the open door of Jaskier's room: Jaskier kicked another log into the fire-

Geralt should have thought of that.

"Come in," Jaskier said and settled back into the chair before his diary. Geralt saw a page with very few words and many drops of ink smeared across it.

Geralt took the poker and rearranged the wood of the fire to burn more evenly, "Yenn says you haven't been caring for your burns," he coaxed the fire into a more even burn and pressed it further back into the hearth.

There was a long silence, "I can't open the jar," Jaskier admitted.

"You know anyone here would help you, Jask-" he dragged a hand through his hair, had he really fucked it up that badly?

Jaskier's silence said what it needed to.

"I'm sorry I didn't make that clear, Jaskier," he said and saw Jaskier's gaze drop lower, to the page in front of him, "may I help you now?"

"I would like it if you opened the jar," Jaskier said, "I don't want to trouble you any further. And thank you for the fire-"

"It's not trouble, I should-" Geralt huffed a sigh, "I should have thought of it sooner. Thought of you sooner- please, let me help you." 

Geralt could have heard a pin drop on the opposite side of Kaer Morhen as he waited for Jaskier to say something- anything.

He opened the jar of ointment and held on to it, even when Jaskier put a trembling hand out to grasp it, waiting for Jaskier to permit him to tend to the burns. Jaskier gave him a worn look.

Jaskier carefully took his gloves off- his fingers still wracked with the persistent tremors that made the single button at the wrists take an achingly long time to unfasten.

"The draughts help," Jaskier said softly, "but they will take time to subside."

They do not speak of the lute calluses that have started to thin and peel off entirely.

The gloves came off Jaskier's hand- revealing two palms and thumbs soiled by burns. There, amongst the gnarled scars, laid the burst remains of a sun and a moon.

Metz's treatise on the formation of the celestial spheres says the bursting of a sun creates a black hole: swallowing whole planets into its gravitational pull.

Geralt thought, perhaps, he should have considered his own marks when he wondered of Jaskier's for how often their hands touched.

"Don't-" Jaskier started, he took a deep breath and looked at the marks and not at Geralt, "please just the ointment, Geralt," he held out a hand again to take the pot from Geralt.

Geralt took the little pot of ointment, preciously carried in his saddlebags from Cidaris to Gulet to Kaer Morhen, and tugged off his own gloves as well. He carefully scooped out some of the ointment, the smell of dusk campion faint and familiar, and he warmed it between his palms.

He gently dragged his palms over Jaskier's before nimbly working the oil and medicine into his skin, taking care to rub into the creases between his fingers and the bumps of his remaining cuticles. 

Yennefer says the draughts will help the nerves return and the ointment will smooth the burns.

Geralt was careful to be methodical and detached as he covered the marks with beeswax and the scent of campion. He cannot help but imagine the pain that forced Jaskier's sun and moon to bubble and split so wide; the layered burns that distort the comets into slashes of lightning.

He cannot help but wonder why Jaskier didn't leave him to rot.

He cannot help but wonder why soul marks are counted as a blessing when his sun and moon remain clear and smooth while Jaskier's have ruptured into glowing black holes. He must not be an expert, there must be a gap in his knowledge, for he'd once counted Jaskier's dismissal as a blessing.

"Easy there, Geralt," Jaskier said kindly, "there's no reason for all that."

Of course Jaskier could interpret the bite of Geralt's lip and the furrowing of his brow.

Geralt held Jaskier's hands between his own, their suns and moons nearly meeting where the burns didn't warp them, "I'd given up on seeing this," Jaskier said fondly, "our own little world in our hands." He traced Geralt's comet down to the bowl of the moon, "Thank you Geralt, you did a very good job."

"I'm sorry," Geralt managed, "I didn't know."

"I didn't really want you to, would you have received it well?" Jaskier said pointedly, then his voice softened, "it was bad enough I wormed my way beside you- this- Geralt,” he gently squeezed their hands, “This is more than I dreamed of.”

"You should want more," Geralt said, "You should ask for more. I'm sorry-"

"I've said the same of you," Jaskier laughed softly, a rare sound of late, "I've said the same of you many times. Perhaps we can work on this together."

[astaldis]

May I proudly present -

My Witcher Monster MAYhem Masterlist:

Geraskier fic:

A Lesson in Prudence

"Jaskier, don't open the ...!" Geralt shouts, but it is already too late. The cast iron padlock still in his hands, Jaskier's eyes grow wide as the heavy wooden lid rises an inch by itself. Then, many tiny fingers sneak through the gap. The lid lifts several more inches into the air ...

Jaskier spends some time at Kaer Morhen. Being his usual curious self, of course, he gets into trouble and Geralt has to save his bard. (words: 854) (Jaskier Angst)

Prompts: Day 1 "Don't open the ...", Day 3 "Tiny monsters", "Pointy Teeth" and Day 7 "Isn't it cute?"

Kaer Morhen Witcher fic:

Die, Monster, Die

"Die, you mother-fucking monster! Will you finally die?" Lambert roars, yet the monster seems to have other plans. For the umpteenth time it reassembles its scattered fragments and attacks again. Damn!

While the "Girls" are not at home, the Witchers are attacked by a very strange monster, one they have never encountered, heard of or read of before. A monster that stubbornly refuses to die. (words: 1,623) (Lambert Whump, Friendship)

Prompt: Day 6 "Die, Monster, Die"

Cahir/Gallatin fic:

Yet Another Save

Finally spring has come and Gallatin is out hunting. Alone. Not a good idea in these times of contempt ... (words: 2,689) (Gallatin Whump, Friendship)

Prompt: Day 3 "Necrophage"

Hansa fics:

Smelly Goo Loves Company (or: Lucky that the bard brought plenty of soap)

While collecting firewood, Angoulême has an encounter with a creature that could easily have gone wrong. Fortunately, she is not alone. (words: 847) (Adventure, Friendship)

Prompts: Day 1 "Paralysed", Day 2 "Run!", Day 5 "Swamp Monster" 

Something In The Water:

It is spring and Milva wants to have a bath. Yet, something goes terribly wrong. Lucky that she has her Hanza, and especially one Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy. (words: 1,875) (Milva Whump, Friendship)

Prompts: Day 2 "Bulging Eyes", Day 3 "Necrophage", Day 5 "Fuck, there's another one" and Day 6 "Surrounded"

Not A Good Place To Stay The Night ...

Forced off the main road south by advancing Nilfgaardian troops, Geralt and his weird company find themselves inside a dark, eerie forest, and night is falling soon. (words: 5,530) (Cahir Whump, Friendship)

Warning: Better do not read if you are afraid of spiders!

Prompts: Day 1 "Paralysed", Day 2 "Vampire", Day 4 "Hairy Legs" & Picture prompt, Day 5 "Too Many Limbs", Day 7 "Creepy Crawlies", Alt. "Bat out of Hell"

What would you do if ...?

One day in the fairytale Duchy of Toussaint, while Anarietta and Fringilla have to attend the bachelorette party of a relative, all the members of Geralt's Hansa are spending a rare evening together in the kitchen of Beauclair Castle, playing games and having fun. Well, at least some of them are having fun. (words: 666) (crackfic)

Alt. prompt: "Flying Spaghetti Monster"

This Is Not A Chicken Egg!

On their travels through Riverdell, Jaskier finds a strange egg. It is just about to hatch, but what the hell is it? And what the fuck does it have to do with Emhyr var Emreis? (words: 1,356) (crackfic, Pikachu/Emhyr mentioned)

Prompts: Day 3 "Tiny Monsters" and Day 7 "Isn't it cute?"

Pikachu/Emhyr fics:

Electrical Attraction

Emhyr's sexuality is a very secret secret that not even Dijkstra has been able to uncover. Maybe it is better for the spy master's mental health that he hasn't. Caution: Mental health hazard. Uncover Emhyr's most secret secret at your own risk. (words: 100) (crackfic)

Prompt: Day 2 "My Beloved Monster"

A Weighty Decision

Ciri and Emhyr have to make a weighty decision that might forever change the fate of the Empire. For the better or worse? Who knows ... (words: 600) (crackfic)

Prompt: Day 7 (lyrics) "Cheerful, cheerful/Furry, happy monsters feeling glad"

Witcher Geralt fic:

A Pet For The Witcher

Geralt happens upon an old acquaintance of his who is doing something he does not like - at all. He does, however, like a lot what comes of this unexpected reunion.

Prompt: Day 4 "Were-"

[bambirex]

Keep My Heart In Your Gold

Pairing: Geraskier

Characters: Jaskier, Geralt of Rivia

Additional tags: friends to lovers, angst, hurt/comfort, sad geralt of rivia, supportive jaskier, trust, grief/mourning, renfri's brooch, inspired by season 3 episode 8

Rating: teen and up audiences

Word count: 2,579 words

Chapters: 1/1

Summary: Geralt always carries a brooch around with him. Jaskier wants to know why.

Author's notes: I can't stop thinking about Jaskier knowing what the brooch meant to Geralt, like, the implications of that??? It must have taken a huge amount of trust on Geralt's side to tell Jaskier this and since i'm insane about this whole thing, i decided I wanna write how that conversation went.

Read on Ao3

*

The brooch always seemed out of place for Jaskier. It wasn't exactly the type of accessory that you would imagine a dark, brooding witcher carrying around: pure gold and shiny gemstones, and delicate carvings that almost made the brooch look like it had an eternal smile.

Yet, Geralt always had it with him, strapped to the hilt of his sword. The sight of it was a little comical, here and there, to have something so pretty stick out during an intense fight with a gruesome monster. If the brooch got covered in blood, Geralt would wash it off with such gentle, caring movements, as if it wasn't just a simple object, but something more important.

But Geralt wasn't such a sentimental kind, was he?

Jaskier has been traveling with Geralt for a couple of months when he first brought up the brooch.

"It's pretty," he pointed out one evening as they sat by the fire, the orange glow of the flames reflecting off the gold.

Geralt followed Jaskier's eyes that fixated on the brooch. He let out a quiet grunt and returned to tending to the fire. Jaskier waited for a few moments. When no more reaction came from Geralt, he continued.

"How long have you had this?"

"A while," was all Geralt said. He didn't even look at Jaskier. Usually, Geralt wore a closed-off, strict expression. At first, Jaskier thought it was only reserved for him and his somewhat annoying shenanigans, but he's quickly learnt that it was just simply Geralt's face. There was something else to it now, though, a deeper, darker emotion, like bitterness.

"Was it a gift?" Jaskier pressed further as he scooted closer to Geralt. "I mean, it was, wasn't it? It looks expensive. Almost like it came from someone royalty."

Something flashed in Geralt’s eyes as he looked at him - like a fleeting moment of anguish. Whatever it was, it made Jaskier's chest tighten.

"How do you know that?"

"I hang around royalty a lot, Geralt, I'm a bard," Jaskier reminded him. "I know what kind of jewelry they wear, so..."

It wouldn't make much sense for Geralt, who famously despised royalty, to accept a gift from someone like that, let alone keep it. Whoever gave it to him, they must have been special.

"It's time for you to sleep," Geralt told him, not bothering with a reply to the actual question. Jaskier snorted.

"You're putting me to bed like a child?"

"You are a child," Geralt replied with a small grin. That made Jaskier sputter, but he did take his place on his bedroll all the same.

The brooch was the last thing he saw before he fell asleep.

--

All of Jaskier's attempts at trying to ask about the brooch turned out to be futile. Geralt either completely ignored Jaskier until he gave up, or he changed the subject right away. If Jaskier was a little too pushy, Geralt would even snap at him and tell him to stop being so nosy.

Jaskier wondered why Geralt was so apprehensive about telling him. As the years have gone by, their bond deepened, and the witcher opened up to him more and more. He trusted Jaskier, that much was obvious: he left him alone with Roach without hesitation, told him about Kaer Morhen and the witcher trials, entrusted him with picking out the right potions for him after a fight. He let him give him baths, for Melitele's sake, it was obvious that Geralt knew Jaskier was someone he could rely on.

And yet, he refused to tell him about the brooch, over and over again.

"It's from someone important," Jaskier noted one day. It wasn't a question, and Geralt realized that, too, because he just stared down at his boots, the muscles in his jaw twitching, like he wanted to reply, just didn't know how.

Jaskier waited for him to open up at last, to let him in - to share something so clearly important with him. He looked at Geralt, trying to silently communicate to him that it was alright, that he could always talk to him about whatever heavy burden plagued him about that brooch.

"Just drop it, Jaskier," Geralt said eventually. The sheer pain in his voice was enough for Jaskier to reach out and give his hand a squeeze. He didn't press it any further. Geralt seemed eternally grateful for it as he laced their fingers together.

--

Jaskier stopped asking about the brooch after that. He relied on his vivid imagination instead as he walked up the hill after Geralt, looking at the gold shining on his sword.

Who could have given it to him? Was it a gift, a sign of gratefulness after Geralt has gotten ridden of a monster? Maybe, but he wouldn't have held it so dear, then. This was something deeper.

An old friend? Someone Geralt greatly cared about, someone who cared for him too - someone that Jaskier hoped to be like, one day, if Geralt was ready for it.

Family? His mother? The only thing that was left of her? Another witcher at Kaer Morhen? A token of love?

Love... maybe it was from someone really close to Geralt's heart. Someone who meant the world to him. Where did they go? Did they leave? Did they die? Did looking at their brooch cause Geralt great pain, a reminder of what he has lost, or did it fill him with joy, giving him the strength to move forward?

"I wish you could talk," Jaskier chuckled softly when he cleaned Geralt's sword and faced the brooch. It was already a big step that Geralt let him clean it, he hasn't before. It felt almost as if day by day, Jaskier got closer to Geralt's heart. Maybe one day he would learn the truth behind the brooch, and he would be fully let inside. Until then, he appreciated what he could get.

"I'd love to know your story. I bet it's a great one, isn't it? Good song material."

The sunlight glinted on the surface of the brooch, almost like it answered him. Jaskier laughed at the silly thought.

"Also, I want Geralt to fully trust me, you know?" Jaskier continued as he scrubbed at a nasty stain on the edge of the sword. "And, I don't know. I feel like you mean something to him. And it would mean a lot to me if he shared you with me."

The way the light reflected in one of the gemstones made Jaskier laugh again, because it looked like the brooch winked at him.

--

Jaskier was about to fall asleep when Geralt slipped out of bed. Jaskier didn’t question it; he knew Geralt often had trouble sleeping as his witcher senses kicked in during the night, picking up every single quiet noise and tiny movement. He also knew about the nightmares, the horrific images of having to take lives, and seeing his witcher brothers die haunting his mind. Jaskier didn’t think a big deal of Geralt leaving their bed, so he pulled the blanket up to his chin and closed his eyes again.

A couple of moments after Geralt got up, the bed dipped again. Jaskier cracked one eye open, trying to get used to the darkness in the room. Geralt was only somewhat illuminated by the moonlight, but Jaskier could still tell he was looking right at him.

"You're awake, then," Geralt stated. Jaskier rubbed his eyes as he sat up against the headboard.

"Yeah. What's wrong?"

Geralt looked down. Jaskier noticed he was holding something in his hand, but couldn't tell what it was in the dim light.

"You used to ask about it a lot," Geralt started. His voice was tired, pained. It woke Jaskier fully at once. Geralt didn't even need to tell him what he meant, because Jaskier immediately knew he was talking about the brooch.

"You've stopped."

"Because it's clear you don't want to tell me," Jaskier replied. "And that's okay, Geralt. I don't want to force you."

"I want to tell you," Geralt said. The moonlight glinted off the brooch as he turned it around in his hand. "I want you to know."

Jaskier hugged his knees to his chest. He tried to appear patient, but his heartbeat picked up as he realized that what he has been waiting for years - for Geralt to truly let him in, to share such an important piece of his soul with him - was finally happening.

"This brooch," Geralt said, looking down on the gold in his hand, "belonged to a girl named Renfri. She was a princess who had to leave her home because she was born under a Black Sun. She was prophesied to be dangerous. But she was just... a girl who was hurt. Too many times."

He looked at Jaskier as he continued. "She was a skilled warrior. Very strong and brave. Any man could have envied her strength. She was also witty and smart. I think you would've liked her."

"You think so?"

"Yes. I often wish you two had a chance to meet."

Something about the way he said it made Jaskier's heart flutter inside his chest.

"Renfri was special. In a way, she really was dangerous. When nothing good ever happens to you, when you keep hurting... it's hard not to become the very thing everyone was told you were going to be. But that did not make her a bad person. She had a right to be angry."

He reached out and took Jaskier's hand. Jaskier drew in a sharp breath when Geralt placed the brooch in his palm, laying his own over it until he covered Jaskier's hand with his own. The brooch was cold, but Geralt's skin was warm against his own.

"She was more than her anger," Geralt continued, looking down on their joined hands. "She also had a right to prove she was more than that. But she didn't have enough time."

"You loved her," Jaskier whispered. Geralt nodded.

"I did. And I killed her."

Jaskier only heard his own heartbeat in the dead silence of the room. Geralt sighed deeply.

"It was always going to end that way," he said, "you truly cannot trick destiny. I was told to choose between the lesser of two evils. I had to kill Renfri to stop her from unleashing chaos on the Continent."

Jaskier's throat felt dry and constricted around his words. "I'm sorry, Geralt."

"This is a reminder for me," Geralt continued. He ran his hand over the brooch, then Jaskier's palm. "That I can't escape the past the same way I can't escape the future. Renfri told me that the girl in the woods will always be with me."

"And who's that?"

"I have a hunch. The destiny I was trying to avoid, again. The one you also warned me about not trying to forget."

In the pale moonlight, Geralt's eyes shone bright as he looked into Jaskier's eyes.

"Renfri was the first human I truly let close to me," he told Jaskier, his voice softer than Jaskier has ever heard it before, "and somehow, although you are very different, I see her in you, sometimes. A constant reminder of my own humanity. And..."

He caressed his thumb over Jaskier's palm again, gently. "I trust you, Jaskier. You bring something good out of me. The same way she could have, but destiny stepped in. But with you... I think things are going to be alright."

Jaskier's eyes welled with tears as his heart nearly burst with an emotion so strong, he couldn't resist that eternal pull anymore - the one that made him follow a grumpy witcher at Posada, the one that never let him leave his side, the one that loved Geralt so dearly, always hoping, always longing to be the one Geralt trusted the most. The one Geralt loved as much as he loved that mysterious girl from the past, who left a part of her heart behind in that brooch.

In that moment, it just felt right when he leaned forward and kissed Geralt. Geralt's arm snaked around his waist and pulled him close until he was on his lap. He grabbed onto Jaskier's shirt like an anchor, holding him close almost desperately. Jaskier wiped Geralt's tears off - or were they his own, he didn't know anymore - as he continued kissing him, silently telling him that he would never leave.

"Thank you," Jaskier whispered as he pulled back to rest his forehead against Geralt's. Their hands were still intertwined over the brooch.

--

The soldier wouldn't let them pass, and they couldn't waste any more time. They needed to find Ciri as soon as possible. Jaskier could have screamed in frustration.

"Wait," Geralt said, reaching into his pocket. Jaskier raised an eyebrow at him. They didn't have any more money on them, so they had nothing to offer as a fee.

"What about this?"

Jaskier gasped when he noticed Geralt holding Renfri's brooch.

"No, Geralt," he whispered, "not that."

Geralt sent him a small smile, and touched his lower back fleetingly. A small gesture of comfort, as if he wasn't the one who was about to pay a douchebag Nilfgaardian soldier with one of the most important objects in his possession. Jaskier tried to reason with him one more time, but Geralt handed the brooch over anyways. Seeing that bastard take it made Jaskier's stomach churn, and his heart clench uncomfortably.

He didn't have time to dwell on it while he had to assist Geralt's fight with the soldiers, but it was the first thing he asked him once they got their horses ready for the road.

"Why?"

Geralt sent him a questioning look. "What do you mean why?"

"The brooch," Jaskier sighed, "Geralt, it was important."

Geralt smiled as he gently tucked Jaskier's hair behind his ear. He cupped his cheek soothingly.

"It's time to let go of the past," he said softly, "and focus on the future."

"But... there must have been another way, Geralt! I could have offered him a blowjob, although it wouldn't have been one given willingly."

"I would have chopped his head off before I let him touch you," Geralt scoffed. He smiled again when Jaskier leaned into his touch. "It had to be done. For Ciri, for all of us. It did mean a lot to me. But it's time to let it go - to let Renfri go."

He kissed Jaskier on the lips before he planted another kiss on his forehead. "Come on. Let's find Ciri."

Jaskier nodded with a smile. Geralt's heart worked in mysterious ways, but Jaskier was slowly learning its intricacies. He knew he was right: cherishing the past was important, but staying stuck in it didn't help anyone. He saw the way Geralt smiled at him before he grabbed the reins of his horse: he looked relieved, like a huge weight has just left his shoulders. The same way he trusted Jaskier with the truth all those years ago, now he trusted him to understand his decision. And Jaskier did.

He looked back at the camp one last time, saying goodbye to the brooch and its history in his mind - and to the girl whom, while he did not know, also meant a lot to him, because she was important to Geralt.

And now it was time to take his beloved witcher's hand and face the future, so they could rescue someone who also meant a lot to both of them.

[shy-urban-hobbit]

I hardly send asks because I made the mistake of not making my most active blog my main blog.... but anyways. for the "why is it so dark in here" prompt: #2, your choice of characters! - sol

Here ya go Nonnie!

For the prompt 'Person A can't sleep without the hallway light on and person B can only sleep in total darkness'

Modern au. Kid Ciri's nightlight stopped working, leading to a new temporary sleeping arrangement. Slight Geraskier in there too.

 

There was a time when the tell-tale sensation of somebody looming over him in the middle of the night would have caused Geralt to jerk to full wakefulness and be ready to fight in a matter of seconds. As it was, he blinked blearily as the latest addition to his ragtag family stared at him with tousled blonde hair and wide, green eyes.

Wordlessly, he lifted the covers in silent invitation for Ciri to crawl in as he tried his hardest not to squint at the light coming from the hallway  through the now open door. He was fully aware that all it did was make him look like he was scowling and he didn’t want Ciri crying again because she thought she’d made him mad. The six year old wriggling around to get comfortable would have happily slept with every single light in her room on, the compromise they’d reached was (in Geralt’s opinion) a rather creepy looking mermaid nightlight from a local thrift store. At least, it had been until it had met an unfortunate end in the form of Ciri deciding to use it as a bath toy and Geralt had yet to get a replacement (he’d been trying, but finding one exactly the same was proving to be like finding gold dust), leaving the hallway light to stand in as an apparently very poor substitute as this was the fourth night in a row she’d found her way to his room.

 

“Hmm, Ger’lt?” A voice slurred from his other side, accompanied by shuffling as a body turned over.

“Go back to sleep Jask, it’s just Ciri.” Geralt whispered, bidding a silent goodbye to any more true sleep for the rest of the night. Unlike his partner, who had the ability to fall asleep under just about any circumstances (an ability Geralt was growing more and more envious of), he himself could only sleep in total darkness. It had been that way since he was a kid for reasons he never wanted to think on for too long. The total opposite of his daughter in that any source of light instantly had him on high alert, whilst they’d found out the hard way that she would start screaming hysterically if she woke up in darkness.

Jaskier checked his phone and made a sympathetic noise as he leaned over Geralt to peer at the now sleeping girl curled up into a ball next to him.

“Little chickadee. She’d almost made it through the night this time too."

Geralt made a noise of agreement.

“Want to risk it and let me get the door? You must be exhausted after the last few nights and dawn’s only a couple of hours away. She’ll probably sleep through again now.”

Geralt shook his head, pressing a kiss to Jaskier’s forehead “It’s fine Jask. Go back to sleep, you’re worse than me if you don’t get enough.”

He heard the other man mumble something about how that definitely was not true before his breathing evened out again.

Geralt adjusted the covers around Ciri before falling into a light doze. Jaskier wasn’t wrong – he was definitely starting to feel the effects, but he’d sacrifice a hundred nights of restful sleep if it meant his little girl felt safe.  

[evilwickedme]

Geraskier 👀👀👀👀👀

Ok so basically this is about these tags:

And I have sooo many geraskier thoughts like am I over my Witcher phase? Yes. Did the brainworms LEAVE? Fucking no they did not they just borrowed deeper and went to sleep but occasionally they wiggle and then this comes out

Anyway basically you can read my many, many geraskier fics for the actual smut portion of this but have you seen the women that geralt is attracted to in canon. He wants to be told what to do you KNOW he wants to be told what to do and he wants to be really good for his partner. Geralt being called good boy is a major factor in my extreme enjoyment of several otherwise mediocre fics I read in 2020

People fucking love to write geraskier with geralt being this big brute who's in control and Jaskier is this wilting lily who does whatever he's told or at best is a bratty sub and I just like. No. Did we even watch the same show? (I only read the first book and didn't vibe with it and my computer can't run the games don't @ me anyway) like Jaskier is sooooooo fucking bossy, he just happened to have become best friends with a guy who's entire thing is to be solid and reliable and not get bossed around but that's like, his professional thing, his worksona if you will. I know deep in my heart that Geralt melts in the bedroom

We also must acknowledge that while the wardrobe department did an amazing job making Jaskier SEEM small in comparison to geralt actually joey batey is fuckin huge. I'm just. Season 2 when he took that impromptu bath in the little lake or whatever you wanna call it?? Y'all saw. He's beefy. He's got it. Is he as strong as geralt? No. If geralt didn't want to move he wouldn't. But he LIKES when jask manhandles him, likes when jask positions him, tells him to stay right there, ties him up and has his wicked way with him. I mean PLEASE like it's sooo obvious

In an ot3 scenario this is true also. Obviously we're talking geraskiefer where yen just does the fucking most to geralt - she definitely pushes boundaries, the little we know of their sex life sounds like it's just sort of fun, you know? Stuffed unicorns etc - and I like to think of yen and jask teaming up to low-key torture geralt but then they reward him so it's all good. Or, and I didn't write anything for this ship but I read so fucking much of it, gentle top!eskel with geraskier is also fucking amazing. We're obviously not talking about what they did to my boy in the show, we're talking game eskel who I've seen many clips of and love

But yeah basically geralt deserves to get taken care of and told he's pretty and a good boy and just. I have a lot of feelings on how that works for him and jask. And yeah that's it you can read my bdsm fic for them if you like fucked up relationships and pre-s2 geraskier