#to be entirely honest im not actually sure if he had a mohawk or not but i saw what i saw and i like to believe he's this cool

[hollis-art]

thinking about the old lady in my ceramics class that was showing me pictures of her dog

i already knew he was cool bc his name was Buzz but then she revealed an image of him from the side and he had this wicked cool mohawk

the shaggiest little brown dog with the biggest mohawk he could possibly have

artistic rendition ^^

[thefatedthoughtofyou]

HI MAHM IM ACTUALLY SENDING A REAL REQUEST PROMPT INSTEAD OF SCREAMING VAGUE IDEAS AT YOU!!! LOVE U! I have constant nightmares and I’ve always had someone to cuddle with. Now, I realize we’re not on that level but you’re only one here and I’m really scared to go to sleep

(CHILD I HOPE YOU ARE HAPPY CUZ THIS GOT RIDICULOUSLY OUT OF HAND!!! I HAD TO GIVE A LEGIT TITLE AND SHIT BECAUSE IT GOT SO LONG UUUGGHHHH! haha! but thank you so much for sending it in i hope you like it!!!!

Ao3

Bright Smiles and Tired Eyes

Finding a roommate had been… moredifficult, than anticipated. Geralt wasn’t sure why he was surprised, peopledidn’t want to room with him for the same reasons no one wanted to give himwork. Witcher’s were… disliked, to say the least. Yennefer had helped him putan ad together, his had been… short winded. She’d worked her magic, no punintended, and wrote him an ad that was at least promising. She’d refused allhis grumblings about her just moving in with him, to help him out. She refusedto live with ex’s, even if they were still very good friends. The ad helped.His appearance and… profession, did not.

He’d met withseveral people already. At least ten, maybe more, he’d lost count and wasgetting tired. Tired of people coming into the small shop and sitting in frontof him, reeking of fear. Tired of people seeing him and turning right aroundagain to march out the door, not even giving him the curtesy of a ‘no thankyou’. Tired of being gawked at, and refused, and glared at. He’d been spit ononce and had put his fingers through the edge of the table, gripping ittightly, instead of putting his fist through their head. He liked the girl whoran this shop, she was nice, sweet, and she wasn’t afraid him. She was alsodating Yennefer and he didn’t want to get on, either, of their bad sides, bystarting, and finishing, a fight.

It had beenthree weeks, if he didn’t find a new tenant soon, he’d have to move, and thatwould just be worse, he’d never find another place that would give space to awitcher. He moved his finger in small circles on the table top, looking up whenhe heard the bell on the door chime. The man who walked through was… not human.Not entirely at least, there was a very strong other smell to him.Geralt couldn’t pin it down though, it was buried under the scent of hiscologne, and something else that smelled like… cinnamon. His hair was spikedinto a bright blue mohawk, tattoos were scattered across the skin that Geraltcould see, his flannel stopped at his elbows. There were piercings too, Geraltcould see them catching the light as he moved to the counter and ordered acoffee, something sickeningly sweet.

Geralt watchedRenfri make the order and hand it to the man with a smile. He nodded his thanksand then turned gracefully, his eyes, bright as fire in the night, scanned theroom. His shinning eyes landed on Geralt and he nodded, Geralt wasn’t sure ifhe was nodding at him or to himself so he sat still, his eyes going back to thetable top. He heard the man approach slowly.

“Geralt? Thatyou? From the ad?” his voice was like honey and Geralt’s stomach dropped. Helooked up at the man and nodded. He smiled down at him in return, and pointedat the seat across from Geralt, his eyebrows arched in question. Geralt noddedagain. He sat.

“So umm… I feellike I should maybe open with the fact that I’m not human. And uh… clearly,you’re… a witcher. So if me being… not human, isn’t okay for you, I can go. Ijust-“ his hands were fiddling nervously next to his coffee cup.

“I just wantedto be honest up front. And not just because I’m worried you’ll kill me.” Helaughed, awkwardly, cleared his throat, and took a very large swig of hiscoffee. Geralt watched him, watched his fingers wrap around the cup, his eyesmoving over the music notes tattooed across his knuckles. He let the man sethis coffee back down before he spoke.

“I’m not goingto kill you.” Geralt said, picking up his own cup, bringing it to his lips.

“Yet.” He saidand took a drink, trying not to smirk as the man squirmed in his seat beforesmiling softly, catching the joke. And that… was new. The man nodded, hismohawk not moving at all on his head, Geralt eyed it and then moved his eyesback to his face, he was wearing eyeliner, like those eyes needed any help standingout, and there were two lip rings shining against his bottom lip, more scatteredin his ears. Geralt watched him take another sip of his coffee and thought hesaw a tongue ring too as the man’s tongue ran quickly over his lip.

“So what areyou? If you don’t mind me asking.” Geralt laced his fingers together on thetable and watched the man in front of him. His cheeks reddened, and there wassomething in his eyes. Geralt thought it looked suspiciously like shame.

“Uh… A uh.. asiren. Well half of one, anyway. On my mother’s side. And I don’t- I don’t useit. The- the siren thing. It’s just- it’s just sort of there. I don’t use it onpeople, that would be…bad.” He finished lamely. His hands clasped together onthe table, tightly, the scent of shame pouring off of him in waves. He wasstaring at the table, and for the first time since he’d seen the man, the scentof fear hit Geralt’s senses. Geralt stared at him, looked at him for a verylong time, he knew that look, and he knew that smell. It wasn’t just fear. Orshame. It was both, dancing together across the man’s skin. He wasn’t afraid ofGeralt, not the way he probably should have been, he was afraid of Geralt’s reaction.No doubt trained to be frightened of it through past experiences. Geralt feltan odd urge to reach out and comfort the man, he frowned and shoved the urgedeep.

This man, whowasn’t just a man, was sitting in front of him, not afraid of the witcherin front of him, but afraid that the person in front of him, would hatehim. Hate him solely for what he was, despite not knowing him, just knowing whathe was. Geralt looked at him, and knew that feeling well.

“What’s you’rename?”  The man’s eyes shot up from thetable, he stared at him, blue eyes shining. Geralt raised his eyebrows, andwaited.

“Ah! Um,Jaskier. I’m Jaskier.” He reached his hand out, clearly an instinct, his eyesflashing with worry immediately as his hand crossed into Geralt’s space. Geraltlowered his eyes to the hand extended to him, he watched it move back, thesmallest amount, an unsure movement that was, somehow, endearing. He moved hishand up and placed in the hand that was offered, the man, Jaskier, smiled athim, and they shook.

“Geralt.”Jaskier smiled again, dropping his hand back on the table, fingers tap out asmall rhythm.

“The room’syours if you want it.” Geralt knew this was probably a bad idea. And he knewmore, that Yennefer was going to yell at him, call him irresponsible, and, mostlikely, a great many other thing. But as sat here, looking across the table atthe shining blue eyes of this shame filled siren, he knew he’d let her call himwhatever she liked.

“Really? Are yousure? I mean, if you’re at all uncomfortable- I don’t want to impose oranything or- or get in your way. Or get you in… trouble. With the…witcher…people.” He narrowed his eyes, obviously knowing he sounded like anidiot as the words staggered out of his mouth. Geralt took a sip of coffee tohide his smirk, at least he knew he sounded ridiculous.

“The… Witcherpeople, will be fine. And I’m sure.” He slipped his fingers into his pocket andslid the small business card across the table.

“That’s theaddress, you can move in as soon as you want. Do you need any help?” He wasn’tsure why he’d asked that. He’d never offered his help to anyone before, well,to an extent. He’d offered to kill monsters, but never to help someone move. Hedidn’t even have a truck, or a car, no vehicle to help move anything. Hefurrowed his brow, mainly at himself.

“Oh no, I’malright. I don’t have much.” He slid his hand across the table top, pulling thecard to him, it disappeared from his fingers before Geralt’s eyes and he foundhimself wondering for the first time if Jaskier was maybe something other thanjust half a siren.

“But thank you.”His voice was soft. He drummed his fingers for a moment, filling the silencespreading between them, and then slowly stood up. He waved, took a couple stepsand then turned around again.

“Seriously thankyou. I’ve been looking for a place for ages. No one- no one seemed to want togive me a chance.” He rubbed at the back of his neck, eyes glancing between thefloor and Geralt. Geralt nodded and felt his lips move into a small smile.

“I know thefeeling. See you soon Jaskier.” The man, Jaskier, smiled down at him, nodded,and turned to leave again. Geralt watched him go, watching the graceful way hewalked despite the clunky combat boots on his feet. Geralt couldn’t stop hiseyes moving slowly up the man’s back, the black skinny jeans hugging his legsand hips snuggly, there was red bandana peeking out from under the blue andback flannel that covered his ass and hung nicely on his broad shoulders. Hewatched Jaskier pull the door open, he spun on his heel, giving Geralt a smallwave. Geralt raised his hand in return and watched Jaskier disappear down thestreet. He looked back to his coffee, took a sip, and wished he’d asked forsomething with cinnamon.

“Well he seemednice.” Geralt jumped as Renfri threw herself into the seat Jaskier had leftempty. She stared him down, chin resting on her hands, a smile on her lips anda knowing look in her eyes.

“Shut upRenfri.” He grunted, pushing himself out of his seat and walking out the door.

 ~*~

He moves in twodays later. And he was right when he said he didn’t have much. He brought abed, a small dresser, one duffle bag of clothing, and two instruments. A guitarstrapped to his back, and a keyboard hung over his shoulder. Geralt helped himwith the bed and the dresser, the delivery men had just dropped them on thesidewalk. Jaskier had knocked on his door looking sheepish. Geralt brushed itoff and easily carried his things in for him, helping him set his room up theway he wanted it. The room was spacious, Geralt lived in a good-sized loft, andJaskier’s few items made it seem, achingly empty.

Geralt left himto his own devices after they got his things settled, letting Jaskier wanderaround the apartment, looking things over, his fingers drumming against histhigh, he was clearly forcing himself not to reach out and touch everything insight.

“You can touchthings if you want. It’s not a museum.” Geralt smirked when Jaskier jumped, butsmiled when the musician smiled at him and turned back to the bookshelf he waswalking by slowly, his hand immediately reaching out, fingers brushing overeach title gently, Geralt noted that his nails were painted black. The smilestayed on his face as he looked through the books.

“I didn’trealize I was moving into a library.” Jaskier called over his shoulder, hismohawk was green today, a dark emerald color, it only served to make his eyeseven more vibrant.

“You can readthem if you want. What’s mine is yours.” Geralt waved his hand toward thebookcase as he stepped into the kitchen, shoving his sleeves up his arms.

“Is that so?” hecould hear the insinuation laced in Jaskier’s voice and froze. He turned tolook at him, Jaskier was leaning against the bookcase, book open in his hands,one foot tucked over the other, his flannel was red today. He must have feltGeralt staring, he looked up from the book, eyes wide, inquisitive.

“What?” heasked, his face a mask of innocence. Geralt actually couldn’t tell, if it was amask or not.

“Nothing.Sorry.” He shook his head and continued into the kitchen, his shouldersrolling, trying to move the tension out.

“You hungry?” hecalled, opening the fridge.

“I could eat.” Hisvoice sounds, far away. Geralt glances past the fridge door and sees him stillstanding there, nose in the book, his eyes darting back and forth over thepage. Geralt starts grabbing things out the fridge, sets them on the counter.

“You likepasta?” he asks, watching him stand there and read.

“Hmm?” he hums,not listening at all. Geralt smiles then, really smiles, and turns to hide it.

“You can sit onthe couch you know? You don’t have stand.” Geralt grabs pots and pans andspoons and all the things he’ll need.

“What? Oh.Thanks yeah. Hey did you say something about pasta?” Jaskier’s voice getslouder as he walks toward the kitchen, he throws himself onto one of the stoolsat the island, Geralt glances back at him and he freezes.

“Am I gonna bein the way here?” he points at the marble island top where he’s set his bookdown. Geralt shakes his head and continues working.

“Do you… wanthelp?” Geralt can feel him leaning to the side, trying to see what Geralt’sdoing.

“You know how tomake pasta?”

“Well thatdepends.” He hears Jaskier flop the book over, keeping his place.

“On what?”Geralt turns then, leaning back against the counter, crossing his arms over hischest.

“Is it pastafrom a box? And sauce from a jar? Or is it like, pasta pasta? And homemadesauce?” Jaskier is smiling at him, not a bright smile, a soft smile, just tiltingthe corners of his lips a little.

“Which one canyou make?” Geralt asks, trying hard not to return the smile, his resolves slipsa little when Jaskier leans back on the barstool and grins.

“You lookat me, and tell me which one you think I can make.” He flattens his handover his chest, his palm covering the design of the band shirt he’s wearingunder his flannel. Geralt snorts.

“Box pasta. Allthe way.” He shakes his head and turns back to the counter, his cheeks burningat the look in Jaskier’s eyes.

“Wooow! Unbelievable.Ye of little faith!” his voice is full of drama, and humor, and happiness. Itmakes Geralt’s skin tingle. Without his permission he turns back to Jaskier,body moving on its own.

“So you can makereal pasta then?” Geralt looks at him, one eyebrow cocked high. Jaskier looksat him, smiling still, brightly this time, his tongue running over his bottomlip, teeth coming down to pull the lip between it, his lip rings making smallsounds against his teeth. He doesn’t hold the stare long before he’s snorting.

“Oh fuck no.Look at me. I’ve been eating SpaghettiOs out of a can for three months. Thebest thing I can make is grilled cheese.” He flips the book back over, thatmaddening smile still on his lips.

“But it isa mean grilled cheese. Add some tomato soup on the side and it’s a gourmet mealfor me.” He glances up at Geralt quickly and then back to the book, his smilefalling slowly as he gets pulled back in by the words on the pages in front ofhim. Geralt watches him, noticing the dark circles under his eyes for the firsttime. He has them hidden so well with his eyeliner that if you’re not lookingclosely you miss them. Geralt supposes that that is the point. He sighs andbegins cooking. Jaskier reading at the counter, the small noises of, him,a comfort in the normally silent apartment.

“I forgot tomention I was a musician. I hope that’s not a problem. I mean, I figured you’dhave said something earlier than now, like when you saw the guitar, but youalso sort of seem like the kind of person to not want to say much. Even if youreally really wanna say something. So I thought I’d bring it up incaseit’s an issue for you. But I do have headphones, so I won’t be like, having jamsessions or anything did you really make those noodles that’s insane, that youcan do that.” Geralt jumped at the sudden talking, and raised his eyebrows atthe sudden onslaught of words coming from the man behind him. He turned to lookat him and found the book he’d been reading closed and pushed to the side, hefelt his cheeks heat up at the thought that Jaskier had possibly been watchinghim for some time.

“Can you havejam sessions with an acoustic guitar and a keyboard?” Geralt smirked at him,Jaskier rested his chin on his hands and looked at him.

“I’ve had jamsessions with less.” He quirked an eyebrow at Geralt, challenging him.

“Hmm?” hehummed, crossing his arms over his chest again, the noodles boiling behind him.

“I have! I oncehad a session with nothing but a metal spoon, a bucket, and half a tambourine.”He dropped his hands onto the counter and smiled again. Geralt huffed, all thisguy did was fucking smile. And the worst part was, it was warm, and infectious,and fucking genuine.

“Half atambourine.” Geralt mused, turning away again, stirring the noodles and thesauce before walking to the pantry. He pulled out a loaf of bread and heardJaskier gasp.

“Are you aboutto make actual garlic bread with that fancy Aladdin bread right there?”his hands were flat on the island top now, slender fingers splayed out in frontof him. Geralt paused and looked at him.

“Aladdin bread?”he repeated back to him. Jaskier nodded excitedly, hopping off the barstool andwalking around to where Geralt was standing, moving into his space slowly andtaking the bread from him gently.

“Yeah! Aladdinbread, like in Aladdin, at the beginning when he’s stealing bread and running fromthe guards with Abu and it’s a perfect little loaf like this one?” Jaskier doesa twirl, spinning easily in the small space and brandishing the loaf of breadlike a sword, the end level with Geralt’s chest, the exact spot someone wouldshove a knife to strike his heart. Jaskier was still smiling, wiggling hiseyebrows at him. Cheeky. Geralt brough his hand up the bread, curling is fingersaround the loaf.

“Right. And, inthis situation.” Geralt stepped closer, pressing into Jaskier’s space the wayhe’d done to him. He watched Jaskier swallow roughly, eyes wide, nodding forGeralt to continue.

“Are youAladdin. Or the monkey?” his voice was dry, he pulled the bread from Jaskier’sgrip easily, poking him in the chest gently to guild him out of the way.Jaskier squawked, mock offence filling his voice as he held his hands up insurrender and backed away, letting Geralt push him out of his space. He settledon the barstool once more and continued to watch Geralt cook.

Geralt was usedto being stared at. People stared at him all the time. This was differentthough. This stare wasn’t… hateful. It was… curious. Jaskier watched him witheyes full of curiosity, tracking his movements like a cat tracking a birdthrough a window. Geralt could feel his gaze on his back, eyes moving over hisbody, and for the first time, in a long time, he didn’t feel threatened by it.Or objectified by it, though Jaskier was no doubt looking at him… in that way.Geralt could smell it on him, he could smell how… appreciative, Jaskier was. Herolled his shoulders as he began mixing the garlic for the bread and heardJaskier sigh behind him, a small thing, barely there.

He glanced overhis shoulder, the feel of Jaskier’s eyes on him gone now, and saw the man hadrested his head on his arms. Geralt knew he wasn’t sleeping, his heart beatingat a regular pace behind his ribs. Geralt lips twitched again and he shook hishead, finishing the garlic mix and brushing it onto the bread. He popped it inthe oven and waited, resting against the counter, and letting his eyes fall tothe musician half asleep on his island. His green mohawk was scrunched againsthis arm, his eyes moving behind his eyelids, fingers twitching where theyrested on his arm.

Geralt couldhear his heartbeat slowing as sleep tried to take him. His eyes moving fasterand faster behind his eye lids. Geralt was sure he was nearly asleep now, hisheart beating slower and slower. And then he flinched. His whole body jumpingas he sat up, blinking hard at the bright lights in the kitchen, Geralt turnedaway quickly. He watched Jaskier’s reflection in the window on the stove. Herubbed at his eyes and pulled the book closer to him, flipping through it untilhe found his place. He rested his chin in his palm and began reading, his tiredeyes moving slowly, blinking hard a few more times. Geralt felt a tug deep inhis chest, his fingers itching at his side, and then he jumped himself when thetimer on the oven began to ding.

 ~*~

 Jaskier doesn’tsleep. At least he hasn’t. Not for the week he’s been around. Unless he sleepswhen Geralt is gone. Which is possible. But the dark circles under his eyes getdarker every day. And Geralt hasn’t known him that long, but he’s starting toworry. He lays down that night, barely sleeping himself most nights, and helistens.

He’d toldJaskier he wouldn’t be home until late. And then he’d gotten home early. He gotcleaned up, took a shower, peaked through the crack in Jaskier’s door and sawhim sitting at his keyboard, headphones draped over his neck, his fingersmoving nimbly over the keys. Geralt stared for a moment longer and headed tohis room. He threw himself onto his bed, his body tired, the job hadn’t beenterrible. Just chasing off a few rowdy young werewolves. They’d barely put up afight before running off back home. But the small fight had left him aching,getting throw into walls would do that. He laid in the dark, listening to thesmall sounds coming from across the hall.

And then Jaskierstarted singing.

He realized he’dmade a mistake immediately. The sound of Jaskier’s voice immediately making hishead fuzzy. He pushed himself out bed with a grunt. His feet stumbling beneathhim as the haunting voice filled the halls of their apartment. He used everyounce of energy inside himself to shove his body through his bedroom door. Hetook two steps and had to brace himself against the wall, his head wasswimming, his ears ringing, Jaskier’s voice filling his ears and pulling himunder. He made it another step before he fell, his body falling into Jaskier’sdoor and then slamming to the floor as the door swung open, hard, knocking intothe wall. Jaskier’s voice caught in his throat as he jumped out of his chairand stumbled backwards, hands flailing as he looked toward the door with wideeyes. Geralt laid on the floor, still unable to move his body properly.

“Oh fuck.Geralt! Shit no no no, you aren’t supposed to be home why are you hear?” hesounded panicked as he ran over to Geralt, falling to his knees next to him,his hands hovering just over Geralt’s body.

“Shit. Fuck I’mso sorry.” His voice was small. The cheer and happiness usually tinting hiswords was gone now, completely.

“Geralt. Fuck.”His hands finally settled on his own knees, moving up and down his thighs, theair around him was thick with worry.

“M’fineJaskier.” Geralt mumbled as best he could, his cheek pressed roughly againstthe floor.

“No. You’re not.Look at you. I- oh hang on!” his hands flailed again as pushed himself off thefloor, across the room in seconds, digging through his dresser for something.He made a small sound when he found it, and was back in front of Geralt inseconds. His slim fingers wrapped around something small and brown, both handsholding it, he brought it close to Geralt’s face and snapped it in half.Cinnamon filled his senses, his head cleared almost immediately. He grunted andpushed himself to his knees, noting how Jaskier scrambled backwards, movingaway from him.

“I’m- I should-I should leave.” Jaskier’s voice was shaky, barely even a whisper in the silentroom. Geralt picked up the broken pieces of the cinnamon stick Jaskier hadsnapped in front of him, holding them in his hand.

“Cinnamon.” Hesaid, maybe a little dumbly. He looks up at Jaskier then, and what he seesmakes his heart drop into his stomach. Jaskier had moved as far away from himas possible, his arms wrapped around himself, fingers digging into his ribswhere he clutched at himself. There were tears falling down his cheeks as hestared at the ground. He looked impossibly small. Geralt pushed himself to hisfeet.

“It’s okay Jas-“

“No it isn’t!”he almost screamed it, his voice rising louder than Geralt had ever heard it.Jaskier sunk to the floor. His arms pulling his knees close to his chest assobs fell from his mouth. Geralt crept closer, clenching his fists at his sidesas Jaskier hid his face against his knees. He crouched down next to him, hishand reaching out slowly to touch his shoulder. Jaskier flinched, but Geraltleft his hand there, refusing to move it.

“You didn’t doit on purpose.” He soothed, his thumb moving in small circles.

“It was anaccident.”

Jaskier snortedhumorlessly and looked up at Geralt, eyes full of self-loathing.

“It’s alwaysan accident.” He says, voice thick with, something.

“I can’t fuckingcontrol it. And I- I could have hurt you.” The tears fall down his face likerain on a window. He bites his lip and sniffles, pulling the sleeve of hisshirt down over his hand and wiping at nose.

“But you didn’t.I should have told you I was home. I saw you didn’t have your headphones on.”His hand moves off Jaskier’s shoulder as he stands, keeping himself pressedagainst the wall.

“You’re tryingto make this your fault?” Jaskier scoffs.

“It’s at least alittle my fault.” Geralt says, taking a few steps back, giving Jaskier someroom. He smiles at him then, trying to show Jaskier that he really doesn’tblame him. It wasn’t Jaskier’s fault. They had an agreement. The only timeJaskier would sing out loud was when Geralt wasn’t home. And he wasn’t supposedto be home. And he hadn’t let Jaskier know he was in the house. Sure, Jaskiershould have heard him, but he had been writing music, and Jaskier rarely hearsanything when he’s writing music, or listening to music, or playing music, andreading books. He gets lost in his head so easily. So yes, Geralt didn’t justthink it was his fault, he knew it was.

“I should havelet you know I was home. That was the deal. I broke it. It’s my fault.” Helooked at Jaskier pointedly, kept his eyes on him until Jaskier finally lookedup from the floor. His eyes shining with tears.

“It’s okay.Okay?” Jaskier pulled his lip between his teeth and nodded. Geralt nodded backand stepped further away. He watched Jaskier for a moment, watched his handsfinally fall to his sides, watched him all but collapse onto his bed, sittingon the edge picking a hole in the knee of his jeans. Geralt walked out to thekitchen and grabbed a water bottle from the fridge. He peaked back intoJaskier’s room, he was laying on the bed now, arm draped over his eyes.

“Hey.” Geraltcalled quietly. Jaskier peeked at him from under his arm, Geralt tossed thebottle to him, he caught it easily.

“Thanks.” Wasall he got in return, Jaskier’s voice still small.

“Get some rest.”Geralt said, trying his best to smile again, and pulled the door closed. Hewatched the line of light under the door until it went dark and went back tohis room, hoping that Jaskier would actually get to sleep.

He’d just aboutdrifted off himself when heard the screams. He sat bolt upright, his handsfisting in front of him, ready for a fight. The screams stopped and he realizedit was Jaskier. Across the hall. Screaming in his sleep. He focused hishearing, reaching out in the dark. Jaskier’s heart was racing, Geralt couldhear him whimpering now. Another shout rang out through the dark and he heardJaskier flail in his bed, and then heard a thud as he fell out of it. He heardJaskier struggle to get untangled from his sheets, and then heard him pad downthe hall to the bathroom.

He heard Jaskierclimb into the shower, even heard him crying under the downpour of water. Helistened to him get dressed and then heard him pacing. He walked to Geralt’sdoor four times. Stopping in front it, pausing, and then going back to hisroom. His hand had even touched the doorknob at least twice. Geralt waited forhim to pace back, waited for him to stop in front if his door, and then calledout to him.

“Come in.”

He heard Jaskiergasp. But the door opened, Jaskier shuffled into the room, his pajamas hungloose on him, baggy pajama pants barely hanging onto his hips. He looked smallagain and Geralt wondered how he did that, went from looking as tall as Geralt,all broad shoulders and long legs, to looking like someone Geralt could put inhis pocket. He stood in the dim ray of light from the hall, rubbing at the backof his neck.

“Are youalright?” he asked, not moving from the bed, pushing Jaskier to says something,for fear that if he didn’t, Jaskier would just stand there all night, sayingnothing.

“N- no. No notreally. And um… I’m gonna ask you something. And it might sound odd. And youcan say no!” he hurried to add, his hands held out in front of him.

“Just ask.”Geralt grunted.

“Can I um… Can Isleep in here with you?” he asked, Geralt said nothing, sensing he was going tosay more, his own heart began beating loudly in his ears.

“It’s just that.I uh… I have these dreams. Well, they’re not dreams really. Nightmares. Iguess, is what they are. They’re nightmares. And uh,” he sighed, pushing hishand through his hair, Geralt just now noticing the his spiked up mohawk wassoft from his shower, he could a slight curl to his hair.

“I um… I usuallyhave… someone to… someone to sleep with. It- it helps. Having some one to- justhaving someone… to-“ he cut off, his eyes on the ground, Geralt could smell theembarrassment coming off him, he rubbed his hand over his face.

“To hold you?”Geralt prompted. Jaskier’s eyes snapped up from the floor, meeting Geralt’s inthe dark. He swallowed hard and nodded.

“It helps. Makesme feel safe.” He was worrying his pajama pants between his fingers.

“I know it’sweird. I just thought I’d ask, I didn’t mean to-“

“Come here.”Geralt waved him over, lying back on the bed, pulling the sheet up ininvitation. Jaskier swallowed hard and shuffled forward. He climbed in next toGeralt slowly, laying stiffly next to him. Geralt snorted and moved closer tohim.

“Getcomfortable.” He moved his fingers to Jaskier’s arm and felt him shiver at thetouch.

“You’re sure?Like really sure cuz I get a bit… clingy.” He pushed himself up onto his elbowand looked down at Geralt, the moonlight from the window shinning in his eyes.

“Cling away.”Geralt said, pushing a lock of hair from Jaskier’s forehead with his finger,pulling another shiver from him.

“Okay.” Jaskierbreathed, looking down at him, motionless, for a moment longer and thenlowering himself down, pressing himself against Geralt gently. His head layingon Geralt’s shoulder, his hand resting on his chest, settled above his heart.His legs pressed against Geralt’s, his foot twitching a bit. Geralt reached down,curled his fingers around Jaskier’s knee and pulled one of his legs over hisown so that it rested between them. He moved his hand up to settle on Jaskier’ship and felt him sigh, finally relaxing completely against him. The only partof him moving now was his fingers, tapping out a gentle rhythm on Geralt’schest.

“I hate it.”Jaskier whispered. Geralt moved the arm underneath Jaskier to hold hisshoulder, giving it a squeeze.

“I hate thatpart of me so much.” His breath was warm against Geralt’s chest, Geralt dug histeeth into his lip, wanting to comfort him, be he wanted Jaskier to get it out,whatever it was that he needed to say.

“And everyoneelse hates it too. As soon as people find out what I am. The look in theireyes, it changes, ya know? It twists, into this, look. Like they- likethey’re-“ Geralt can feel tears pooling against his chest, wet and warm. Hehears Jaskier choke back a sob and moved his hand into his still damp hair.

“Like they hateyou.” Geralt whispers, breathing the words into Jaskier’s hair. He feelsJaskier nod.

“They don’t evenknow me. I’m not… I’m not like that. I don’t like hurting people.” Hisfingers curl into Geralt’s shirt, clutching at it tightly.

“I know.”

“How can youknow that? We just met. And you’ve seen it. You’ve felt it. What I cando.” He flattens Geralt’s shirt back out, pressing his fingers down againsthim, pressing out the wrinkles he’d created.

“Jaskier. If youwanted to hurt people, you’d be hurting people. And I’m not sure anyone couldstop you.” He moved his fingers to Jaskier’s chin, tilting his head up, makinghim look at him.

“I don’t thinkeven I could stop you. If you really wanted to, I think you could bring thisworld to it’s knees with that voice of yours.” He moved his fingertips over Jaskier’slips, feeling him gasp against them.

“But youhaven’t. And you won’t.” He moved his hand to cup Jaskier’s cheek.

“There’s toomuch kindness in you.” He presses his lips to Jaskier’s forehead and then looksdown at him again.

“It shines inyour eyes every time you smile. And you fucking smile, all, the time.” Geraltsighs, frustration lacing his voice. Jaskier snorts, his body shaking againstGeralt’s. Jaskier pressed closer, his body moving into Geralt’s like it wasmade to be there, his arm snaking around Geralt and pulling him closer.

“Should I stopsmiling? Sounds like it bothers you.” His voice was heavy with sleep now, theheartbeat pressing into Geralt’s side slowing. Jaskier snuggled his head harderinto Geralt’s shoulder.

“Don’t ever stopsmiling.” Geralt breathed into his hair. He felt Jaskier smile into his chestand moved his fingers slowly along his scalp, listening to his heartbeat andbreathing slow as he finally drifted off to sleep. Geralt pulled him closer,holding him tightly in the dark, and let his eyes fall closed. He pressed hisnose into Jaskier’s hair and hoped he could at least bring him some peace.