#touched starved geralt

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 71

The other witchers at Kaer Morhen have always grown tired of Geralt's random moodswings and bouts of gloom and grumpiness during the winter. He'd be happy and carefree, safe in his home, and then some dark thought would crest in his mind, and for a few days straight, he'd be in a horrible mood. When one year he brings his bard with him, they realize the moodswings have disappeared completely. That is, until Jaskier starts trying to "bond" with them all and spends less time with Geralt. Then all of a sudden the snarls and snaps from Geralt are back. One day, Lambert gets tired of Geralt's sass, and shoves Jaskier at him, and they're all amazed when Geralt loses his bad mood and instead chooses to carry his bard off to cuddle in front of the fireplace. Nuzzling him and purring the whole time. Thus commences a new rule of Kaer Morhen. If you spot Geralt being pissy, you chuck the bard at him. Jaskier has been taken away from a meal, a game of gwent, his chores, his bed while asleep, and one especially embarrassing time he was taken from a bath. Jaskier is quite alright with the new rule, as it always ends in deligthtful Geralt cuddles, but sometimes he wishes Geralt would just find Jaskier instead of moping when he misses him.

[valewright67]

Love the idea of - before they're "official" - Geralt always having the urge to cling to Jaskier, but aggressively resisting it.

Fingers twitching up towards him, so clenches his hand into a fist so tight his knuckles creak.

Leaning slightly into his space, and then going so ramrod straight that Jaskier is a little worried he locked his knees and is going to fall over. (He's a stage performer, he's seen it before.)

Waking up to realize he'd cuddled up to Jaskier while he slept and tearing himself away while Jaskier complains at being woken so rudely. Setting up his bed roll on the far side of the camp the next night.

And then when, eventually, they actually become partners, Jaskier realizes that Geralt is the clingiest fucker he's ever met. Curling around him at every opportunity, getting a pleased little flush doing something as simple as holding his hand, scenting him constantly... He sleeps like a damn octopus when he let's himself too.

Jaskier: Are you done? You know, they won’t pay me if i never show show up and play for them. Geralt: *sniff* no. Jaskier: OKAY :D

[0dde11eth]

Jaskier: the reason you hate physical contact even though you're extremely touch starved is that you've gone for so long without loving physical contact from another person that now your brain misperceives it as a threat.

Geralt: ... fine get in the bedroll

Jaskier: yay! It was chilly out here

[thedemonofcat]

Alright, so, toxic witchers.

As in poisonous witchers. The mutagens altered them to the point where pretty much every fluid in their body could kill someone.

They only go into towns to find the contracts. They don’t eat with humans, sleep in their homes, or visit brothels. Their very saliva could be dangerous.

When Geralt tells Jaskier that following him will kill the bard, he means it quite literally.

Maybe Jaskier is a creature immune to poison. Maybe he builds up a tolerance. Maybe Yennefer makes a potion for Jaskier.

Whatever solution they come up with, it all ends with Jaskier holding a severely touch-starved Geralt in his arms.

Geralt cursed himself for not being faster. The werewolf had managed to drive its claws deep into his chest before he could react. It had threatened Jaskier, and Geralt couldn’t let his bard be harmed. Now, lying inches away from the slain beast, he was bleeding out on the forest floor.

“Geralt, you’re taking too long,” Jaskier’s voice called out, anxious. When the bard finally spotted him, he rushed over, panic setting in. “Oh gods, you’ll be okay,” Jaskier cried, hastily removing his doublet to press against Geralt’s wounds.

“You’ll get sick,” Geralt murmured weakly. “Touching my blood... it’s dangerous.”

“Right now, that doesn’t matter. Just tell me what potion you need,” Jaskier pleaded, his voice trembling.

“It does matter. I don’t want you getting sick because of my mutation,” Geralt insisted, his voice fading.

“I’m immune, remember? The freak who can’t die,” Jaskier choked out through his tears. “But you can’t die on me, Geralt. You can’t.”

Geralt reached up with a trembling hand, gently brushing away Jaskier’s tears. “Don’t cry. I prefer your smile.”

Jaskier forced a shaky laugh. “Then tell me what potion you need, and I promise, I’ll keep smiling.”

[bigfan-fanfic]

Be Still, Be Soft (Male!Reader x Geralt of Rivia)

@jayfeather965 Follow up on touch starved Geralt. Setting: deep winter at Kaer Morhen. Geralt is sitting in his bf’s lap. With bf’s legs around his torso so that Geralt can rest his head on his bf’s chest. And bf starts to give Geralt a neck rub. (I’m completely sure that Geralt doesn’t know what a neck rub is)

Not many people realize just how studious Geralt is.

Though perhaps this is less due to preconception, and more due to simply never getting to see him with a book in hand.

But the man is not only educated, but tends to enjoy learning information. He's a reader when he can get his hands on a book.

Currently he's studying up on Vesemir's most current edition of the bestiary he's been working on.

Geralt only really relaxes in these deep winter days, when it's a struggle even to leave Kaer Morhen for the courtyard.

The keep is well-heated, but Geralt always suggests that you huddle together for warmth because even now, even after he has told you he loves you and admitted to his brother witchers that you are his, he needs an excuse to hold you close.

You sit on the bed, patting the space between your legs, as you grab one of the books Eskel had brought for you from the Path.

Geralt gingerly sits cross-legged between your legs, awkward and stiff, and you chuckle.

"Lean back."

"I'm heavy."

"Oh? I never noticed." You roll your eyes. He scoffs and slowly leans back, his head on your chest, his broad shoulders against your stomach.

He shifts slightly, ensuring you're comfortable and his weight isn't settled on you uncomfortably, and you gently wrap your legs around him, allowing him to sort of tuck your thighs under his arms.

"Nice?" you ask.

He gives a sound partway between a hum and a growl. Definitely not a purr, not at all.

You both read for a while, before you just can't help but smile at how relaxed Geralt feels against you.

His back is literally to you, and there is no sign of tension.

"Geralt?"

"Hmmm?"

"Have you ever had a neck rub?"

He pauses. "A what?"

"You know... where I rub your neck."

Geralt snorts. "Yeah, I sort of figured that part out. Is this... something people do?"

"Yes. Like a massage, but... informal?"

"I see. I suppose... that might be... nice."

You grin and gently reach around Geralt's shoulders to unlace his shirt.

Geralt tries to continue reading, but you can feel him shudder.

You gently push the neck of his shirt aside and slowly begin to rub his neck and shoulders.

Geralt has started to make those low groans of enjoyment, and you start to increase the pressure a little.

Vesemir's bestiary flutters to the ground, as Geralt lets out a sound greatly resembling a moan.

"Can I take out your hair tie?"

"Yes." Geralt almost snaps, eyes shut. His body seems unsure how to process what he's feeling - it's almost hilarious.

You expand his neck rub to a shoulder rub and scalp massage, and Geralt just falls completely limp, relaxed and not resisting at all. His head is completely against your chest, making it somewhat hard to continue.

"I love you so much, Geralt." You smile softly, leaning down to kiss the top of his head.

"Hnnnnnnniluvyoo." Geralt slurs his words, just utterly relaxed.

You laugh this time, and lean back, safe and secure with your Witcher.

Brought low by a simple neck rub.

[seno99]

We been knew

Okay. Hear me out. What if:

Geralt of Rivia was actually the more touch-starved one out of Geraskier.

[letmelickyoureyeballs]

Witcher Fic Recs

Wanted to make a list of some of my favorite Witcher fics! Most of these are not Jaskier/Geralt, but I did add some, and they are just as good! A lot are also Explicit, and some need an AO3 account to access. Feel free to message me if you want your work taken off this list.

*I do not claim any of these fics as mine, and I give all the credit to the original authors*

"Bat Out of Water" by @tafkamayle One of if not my favorite Witcher fic! 65k words, Explicit, Jaskier/Geralt Jaskier/Eskel Jaskier/Lambert, Vampire and Pirate AU

"The Songbird of The Cats" by @ohwhoopsok I've read this one so many times I cannot recommend it enough! 28k words, Mature, Jaskier/OCs Jaskier/Aiden Jaskier/Lambert, Jaskier becomes the School of the Cats new obsession, little non-human Jaskier

"The Shape of Love" by @jaskierswolf 17k words, Teen and Up, Shifter AU, Geralt/Jaskier, there's a bunch of works in this series and they're all great!

"Fateful Red" by @tafkamayle again, 16k words, Explicit, Jaskier/Geralt, Soulmates and No Powers AU, I love this one so much!

"That's my Jam(bert)" by @greenbirddraws/GreenBird, 14k words, Explicit, Jaskier/Lambert, I love them together so much!

"So Tight I'd Bruise You" by @sweetpeapod 496 words, General Audience, Jaskier/Lambert, little hurt/comfort and soft Lambert

"Cat Up A Tree(Going Down on a Witcher)" by Hallianna, 10k words, Explicit, Aiden/Jaskier/Lambert, love this one a lot!

"Bring Your Hunger" by @sweetpeapod again, 2k words, Teen and Up, Jaskier/Lambert, teasing and fluff

"Take a Chance on Second Chances" by Caelanmiriel, 9k words, Explicit, Jaskier/Lambert, some courting rituals

"Fingertips" by @ohwhoopsok again, 3k words, Explicit, Jaskier/Lambert, Lambert can't get hard, some fluff, this one is super sweet!

"to the wolves" by @besselfcn 1k words, Mature, Jaskier/Lambert/Eskel/Geralt, Past SA, hurt/comfort, revenge, past Valdo/Jaskier

"I Just Want to Feel You" by @stfustucky 6k words, Explicit, Jaskier/Geralt/Lambert/Eskel, Geralt and Eskel fuck up some aftercare so Lambert has to make things right, super sweet one!

"Soap, and the Scents of Home" by @round--robin/round_robin 32k words, Explicit, Jaskier/Geralt/Eskel/Lambert, lots of touch-starved Witchers, Scent kink, an amazing series!

"5 Times Geralt was Cat-Like (+1 Time He Was Wolf-Like)" by @xrdragonix 2k, General Audience, Geralt/Jaskier, Wolf and Cat traits, super cute and wholesome!

If you enjoyed any of these please let the authors know with comments, kudos, and/or bookmarking it!

[martha-oi]

•°Captain Syverson°•

°• @sillyrabbit81 •°All her works are amazing!°•

Even If You Don't Mean It •° this one started it all for me♥️°•

Pulled in line

Riding high

Cure for boredom - Cure for boredom part two

Work then play

Pink or black

Close shave

Sy loves quickies

Attached

And so much more

Girls' night needs

Lookout

Candy cane

Blood hound

Wrapped

Cotton tail

Curious inspired by this

Fuse

°• @littlefreya •°is one of my favorite also°•

Lines in the sand

Feral collision part one - Feral collision part two

Shades of Green

Bring it on

Captain cunnilingus

Let me in - Set me free

Waking up the beast

The Captain and the Maiden

Knockers

Florist Sy

Salt & Iron

Buns in the oven

Kiss me in slow motion

Cosy

Tough luck

The beast

Home sweet home

Peach pie

Husband's duty

Pictures of you

°• @angryschnauzer •°

No I in team

Bubbles

By The Waning Crescent Moon

°• @shewriteswhenthewordscome •°

Gray sweatpants season

Returning the favor

Smutbomb

Reading is FUNmental

°• @raccoon-eyed-rebel •°

What's the occasion?

°• @feralrunaway •°

Lower

Yrsa

The predictament

°• @loganbcrnes •°

you are the bane of my existence and the object of my desire

°• @delicate-moon-princess •°

The night of many firsts

°• @wolvesandhoundshowltogether •°

Kissed by fire 🔥

Pearls

A girl chest friend

Of beard and ranks

Good ol' boy

Dog tags

°• @mayloma •°

Sweet things

°• @viking-raider •°

Sy's therapy barn

°• @geralts-yenn •°

Bonfire - Something like that

Dad Sy

°• @augustsprincess •°

Plenty of room

°• @just-chirpin •°

Eyes that see - night terrors

°• @nashibirne •°

Truck stop - Pick up

°• @doll-r-t •°

A warm italien night with the captain

My sweet peach

A cold tent and a warm captain

My baby bear

°• @capncassas •°

Supply run - Twinkies, Ho-Ho's and Ding Dongs

Pretty as a peach °• this one is🔥😩•°

Box truck surprise

°• @gummydummy19 •°

Spanking - the do over

Balance

°• @princess-of-riviaa •°

No strings

What a man

Wet dreams

My Captain - your sergeant

°• @scorpiobitch95 •°

Sugar and the bull

Namaste

Hoodie love

Magenta

°• @mrsarnasdelicious •°

Touch starved

Overseas hero

°• @followyoursecretsmutblog •°

Mine

°• @thelastsock •°

He very much gives a fuck

Handprints on the glass

°• @hertzwritings •°

Yes professor

°• @zealoushound •°

A dose of serotonin

Watermelon sugar

°• @witchersmistress •°

Bite me Sy

[aramblingjay]

After summers of fasting I feel hunger at last Geraskier, touch-starved, bed sharing (2K)

They meet that spring. And the one after, and the one after, and the one after, until it’s six winters later and Geralt leads Roach down the trail from Kaer Morhen with his saddlebags stocked full of human-safe potions and spare lute strings and a bright maroon doublet too small to have the faintest hope of fitting him.

ao3

The first winter he returns to Kaer Morhen, Geralt is asked to describe Jaskier.

“We hear you’ve started traveling with a companion,” Eskel says over dinner. Lambert and Coën go a little too still in the corner to not be listening, and even Vesemir subtly turns his head in their direction—everyone’s been wondering, evidently, and Eskel has been chosen as the best person to pose the question.

“Yes,” he agrees, taking another bite of whatever it is Lambert has decided to pass off as dinner. Some kind of meat, perhaps? It powders in his mouth like chalk.

To his credit, Eskel doesn’t ask who the companion is. “What are they like?” he asks instead, and Geralt doesn’t miss the they. It protects him implicitly the way Eskel always has, assuming nothing, allowing him to reveal exactly as much or as little as he wants, and Geralt is reminded all over again why he’s never been able to deny Eskel anything.

Including this, so he tries to find the right words. It was never his strength, even back when he still had red hair and brown eyes and knew of Witchers only as a fiction told to scare disobedient kids, but it’s even harder now.

“He’s—”

The first description which comes to mind is loud, but that isn’t quite right. Jaskier is loud only in the sense that Geralt is always aware of his presence, a whisper of citrus and jasmine beside him. And he hums incessantly, sometimes accompanied by the twang of his lute, sometimes not—but it isn’t the kind of overbearing, obtrusive singing that loud would suggest. Jaskier’s music is just there, a constant background, as familiar to him now as the chirping of birds and rustling of leaves in the wind.

He’s a bard, Geralt considers saying, but that doesn’t capture the essence of Jaskier, almost suggests he’s nothing without a tune on his lips.

He’s brave. Certainly, he’s the first human Geralt’s met that has never, not once, smelled like fear around him, even when Geralt’s eyes are inky black and he’s more monster than man. But Geralt doesn’t know if that’s bravery or foolhardy, and besides, true bravery is to run toward that which you fear. To not feel the fear at all—that’s something else entirely.

He’s different. True. Not nearly enough to explain.

“He’s kind,” Geralt says finally, and it feels right. There is no kindness to be found here at Kaer Morhen—even Eskel, for all his protectiveness, is not kind. No Witchers are, no Witchers are allowed to be. But Jaskier is the opposite of a Witcher, vivacious like no one Geralt has ever known before, impulsive and free-spirited and wholly kind.

Eskel’s eyes go strangely soft. “Oh, Wolf,” he murmurs, so low only a Witcher could hear.

Geralt looks away. “Anyway, I doubt I will see him again come spring.”

It’s not a lie. Jaskier has undoubtedly moved on to pastures new, wintering in Oxenfurt or Lettenhove or some other place that Witchers wouldn’t set foot, somewhere bright and lively to keep the chill at bay. The chance that their paths will randomly cross again once Geralt comes down the trail in a few months’ time is slim, and he doesn’t expect Jaskier to wait for him either. Jaskier is kind, but not infinitely so, and surely spending another year on the Path beside a Witcher who grunts more than speaks is the last thing he wants.

It’s not a lie, but the words taste bitter on his tongue anyway.

-

They do meet that spring. And the one after, and the one after, and the one after, until it’s six winters later and Geralt leads Roach down the trail from Kaer Morhen with his saddlebags stocked full of human-safe potions and spare lute strings and a bright maroon doublet too small to have the faintest hope of fitting him.

Geralt dismounts Roach outside The Wolf’s Snout, a grimy-looking inn with a half-broken fence surrounding it, five days’ trek from the bottom of the trail. It is further than he usually travels before stopping—the Kaedweni innkeepers closer to Kaer Morhen are more used to Witchers popping in than those this far out.

(But Jaskier mentioned this inn to him last year, so. Here he is)

He has yet to meet Jaskier in the same inn twice, but somehow they always find each other in one establishment or another on the outskirts of Kaedwen. Geralt no longer doubts whether their paths will cross, the question is only when.

Though he knows Jaskier tends to winter close to the coast, he does not ask how or why Jaskier ends up in Kaedwen every spring. Such a gift is too precious to jeopardize, either by his clumsy questioning or his even clumsier acknowledgment.

Geralt steps inside the inn to a raucous dining area, every available table surrounded by men with red cheeks and loud voices, clearly well on the ale. A good bard would make a pretty coin or two here, he thinks idly, and wonders if that’s why Jaskier mentioned it.

The innkeeper is a short, wiry woman with sharp eyes that rake him from top to bottom as he approaches her.

“Room for the night?” he asks, careful to speak just loud enough to be heard over the din. The innkeeper will know, of course, but nobody else seems to have clocked that he’s a Witcher, and the longer he keeps it that way the smoother his stay will be.

“I won’t be having any trouble here tonight,” she says, but her voice isn’t hostile.

“I won’t give you any.”

A corner of her mouth lifts. “And payment up front. How many nights you staying?”

Several coppers lighter, Geralt ends up in a rather spacious room at the very end of the hall, complete with a bed large enough for two (or one broad Witcher), a second small bed pushed up against a window, a fireplace, and a round tub. The main bed even comes with a feather-padded blanket for warmth. Compared to his usual accommodations, it’s a veritable palace.

He scowls, and dumps his saddlebags in a corner. All this luxury is largely wasted on him, and does little to fill the hollow in his chest that has only grown with every step away from Kaer Morhen.

There’s not much to do here besides take in the finery and rest, so he casts Igni to light a fire and settles into the bed rather quickly. Some dinner would be nice, perhaps, but everything smelled a little too salted and seasoned downstairs—normally he can stomach just about anything, but several months of pampering over winter have narrowed his palette considerably, and it’ll take at least a few weeks time to remember how not to give a fuck again.

Sleep finds him almost immediately after that. It should be one of the most comfortable nights he’s had outside the keep in recent memory, but the emptiness of the room aches in his chest like a physical, tangible thing.

-

He wakes to citrus and jasmine and a voice he would know anywhere.

“She told me you were in—ah, Geralt. Here you are. Lovely to see you again after a long winter.” Jaskier steps further into the room until he’s fully illuminated by the firelight. He looks good, Geralt surmises, well-fed and looked-after. “Don’t mind me. Coin is short and this room is entirely paid for, so I’ll be here for the night.”

It’s phrased as a statement but intended as a question.

Geralt just grunts his assent and drifts back to sleep smiling.

-

They fall into the familiar routine just as they have every year before. It’s comfortable, safe, easy.

Geralt kills monsters and Jaskier sings about it.

Jaskier sleeps with fine ladies (and more than one fine lord), and Geralt scares away their angry spouses with a well-placed intimidating look.

Geralt keeps them safe, and Jaskier keeps them fed, the coin he earns from one night of performing usually triple what Geralt could even hope to earn from a single contract.

Jaskier smiles at him and worries after him and touches him with a care no one’s taken since he was a boy, and Geralt tries to understand what it all means.

The ache in his chest is an old, forgotten thing.

-

Their seventh spring, he once again stops at The Wolf’s Snout.

(He’s never waited in the same inn twice before, until now, but he refuses to consider what that might mean)

This time, he’s awake. Waiting up, one could call it, though the very idea is preposterous—Witchers don’t have anyone worth waiting up for, and the chance to sleep in a bed is a precious commodity on the Path. No one is coming home to a Witcher.

But then there’s a lyrical knock at the door—two taps, and then a faster three, the beat of a song he doesn’t know—and Jaskier is there. Framed in the doorway, dressed from head to toe in bright blue and green that should irritate his eyes but doesn’t, not in the slightest, only makes something loosen in his chest that’s been taut for too long.

Jaskier is there. Here. With him, again, for the seventh spring in a row, despite it all.

“You’re awake,” Jaskier says, and his voice is missing some of its usual brightness, its usual whimsical nonchalance, but it’s so good to hear all the same.

“Hmm.”

And Jaskier shouldn’t be able to read what that means, just like he shouldn’t be here in a beaten-down inn along the forgotten backwater of Kaedwen about to step into a room already occupied by a Witcher, but Jaskier is brave and different and kind and entirely incapable of ever doing what he should.

So of course, Jaskier only says, “Yeah, me too,” like he hears the words Geralt doesn’t even know how to form in the privacy of his own mind, and steps over the threshold.

It feels significant, somehow. A bigger step than across a single plank of wood.

He stays silent, watching as Jaskier drops his bags in a heap by the door and undresses down to his smalls in the half-darkness.

There’s only one bed in this room. Geralt asked for a room and the innkeeper offered this one and he didn’t spend more than a second thinking about it before accepting. Witchers can’t be picky, and Jaskier has slept on the floor many a time—they both have, on cold and dirty forest floors far more uncomfortable than anything this inn could offer.

But.

“What are we doing here, Geralt?” Jaskier asks softly, hovering by the edge of the bed but making no move to come closer.

Geralt doesn’t have an answer. But he shifts just slightly on the bed, an invitation—and Jaskier lies down in the open space next to him, no trace of fear anywhere in his scent even now—and for the first time since the mutagens burned away every part of the boy he used to be, Geralt wants.

-

The next year, Jaskier doesn’t come.

Geralt waits at The Wolf’s Snout for a fortnight, until he can’t delay going back on the Path any longer, and then another day just to be totally, completely sure.

Jaskier never comes.

He packs up his things, never considers leaving behind the human-safe potions or the lute strings or the too-small doublet even though they add weight to Roach’s pack—just shoves it all into the bottom of his satchel along with his emotions and his hopes and the weird sense of betrayal he has no right to feel, and walks the Path.

Alone, as he was meant to.

The ache is back, a monster under his skin. He feels cold and tired and empty, but a Witcher isn’t made to break, so he puts one foot in front of the other in front of the other until it’s winter again.

He collapses into Eskel’s arms the moment he’s back in the keep, grateful to still have one person who hasn’t left, and his eyes burn.

If he could cry—he can’t, so it doesn’t matter. But if he could, he would probably drown.

-

It’s foolishness, to go back to the same inn. It’s foolishness, and Geralt is not a fool, but he can’t help himself.

Just to be sure. Just to be absolutely certain Jaskier has left this life, left him, and then he’ll walk the Path and never ever return here again.

But he opens the door to his preferred room, an extra three coppers per night now but worth it just for the memory of having slept beside Jaskier in this bed, and it isn’t empty.

Jaskier is there.

His hair is longer. He’s dressed in deep maroon, and there are bags under his eyes like he hasn’t slept in days, and he smells like he hasn’t showered since he left wherever he’s been for so long—and he’s the most beautiful thing Geralt has ever seen.

“Hi,” Jaskier says, tentatively, like he’s not sure if he’ll be welcome. Like Geralt hasn’t spent the last year withering away at the prospect of never seeing him again.

“Jaskier.” He can’t find any other words. He can’t think of any that matter more than this, saying a name he thought he’d have to bury in the deepest corner of his mind forever, lest the mere memory of it reduce him to dust.

“Sorry I wasn’t here last year. It’s a long story involving—”

“Come here,” Geralt whispers, cutting him off. His voice breaks, but it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter, all that matters is Jaskier standing on the other side of the room. “Please.” Witchers don’t beg but he isn’t a Witcher in this moment, just a man, old and weary and aching. “Please.”

“Oh, Geralt.” Jaskier is front of him in a flash. “Darling, I’m right here. I’m right here, I promise.”

That familiar hand reaches out and rests on his chest—he feels it, the slightest pressure when those long fingers brush against his tunic, the searing warmth of Jaskier’s skin on his own even with two layers of cotton in between.

Citrus and jasmine, the jackrabbit beat of Jaskier’s heart, and that soft, gentle warmth—Geralt closes his eyes and comes home.

[annmarcus63]

Prev

Buckle up, long reading ahead

"I'm not hungry" 

"You need to eat anyway" Jaskier makes a face full of distaste, his belly just woke up and the last thing he wants is stew, more so if Lambert cooked it. "I cooked" Geralt adds as if reading Jaskier's mind "try a couple of spoonfuls" Jaskier takes the bowl eager to get on with it. He swallows precisely two spoonfuls without meat or carrots, only broth. 

"For you" says Geralt and places the yellow flower on the nightstand. He takes the chair next to the bed Jaskier is lying on. "I'm definitely not going to eat that" Geralt huffs a gentle laugh and says "It's a present. Ciri helped me to find it. Started snowing a night ago, that's all we could find" He looks at the dying flower a reflection of his own battered body, he's amazed with the gentleness in which Geralt holded it. 

"How's the pain?" Jaskier's eyes travels up to Geralt's, a soft look on the golden ones, like sunset autumn, Jaskier shivers but he's not sure why. 

"Painful. I must say I didn't know chest hair could hurt" 

"So much fucking hair…"

“...Like a dog died in there” They laugh, one of those rare laughs that holds years and years of sharing experiences, of sharing a life on the road, whether or not it's a friendship or merely a companionship. Jaskier regrets it immediately when a sharp pain emerges from his chest, he gasps and goes still. Melitele's magnificent tits, it hurts. 

A warm hand settles over the bandages, a fluttering touch. Touching but not quite. Jaskier opens his eyes, Geralt is there, close very close. "Breathe, slowly" Jaskier follows his instructions, the witcher's hand rising with every breath. Minutes pass, Geralt waits patiently until he regains strength, and then takes his hand away. Jaskier mourns the loss of contact right away.

"How is Ciri?" he asks to break the silence and grimaces at his own trembling voice. He has already asked Triss about her, but he wanted to hear it from Geralt, her father of surprise so to speak. He's seeking some kind of attention or recognition, he guesses, he's always seeking for self meaning in others, specially in Geralt.

"She's fine. She's got a bruised confidence, that's all." Geralt reluctantly takes the bowl from Jaskier's hands and places it on the nightstand, next to the withering flower. "She's safe  thanks to you" Jaskier makes a noncommittal sound "We're outnumbered and you... you save her and I ... don't... don't fucking do that again." Jaskier blinks stunned, maybe is the pain or his medicine muddle mind but the harshness in Geralt's voice hits in the wrong places for the wrong reasons.  

"I had to, Geralt. That thing was about to mashed her like a potato against the rock, Geralt. A po-ta-to." 

"You should've stayed back and let us handle it."

"Well, too late for that!" said Jaskier looking at his mended body and his severed hands. Geralt sweeps his gaze over Jaskier's body, taking in all the bruises and the bandages a miserable expression settles on his handsome face. "The chort threw you across the field. You aren't built for that, we are. You can't do something like that again" 

Jaskier could sense something in there, something the witcher wanted to say but he didn't want to give it to Jaskier. And the bard is tired of starving from Geralt. "Oh, I'm sorry" he feels his inner snappish child break to the surface "I didn't know I needed your permission to help..." 

"You're human, Jaskier..." And now he's talking like Jaskier is a child who doesn't know better. He's almost forty three!

"Oh, believe me I KNOW" 

"It's a witcher's work not yours"

"It worked, didn't it!? so why don't you stick your opinion up your arse and be grateful for just fucking once" 

"You died, Jaskier!" Geralt shouts, the words crashing to the walls and bumping back to Jaskier in a punch that cools him down instantly. “You died and I couldn't do fucking anything." Geralt slumps on the chair like all the weight of the world has finally left his shoulders, his hands that were clenched a second ago now open on his thighs. Jaskier's snappish inner child quiets down. "I... when I got to you, you're already gone." Geralt lets out a shuddering breath and then turns on the chair to face Jaskier. "You were gone." he repeats and Jaskier averts his eyes, suddenly ashamed. “Jask…” Geralt has never said his name like it's worth naming him, like it's worth the sentiment. The bard feels like crying. "You don't have to say anything, Geralt. I get it... I..." 

"Don't. Don't give me a way out, not this time, bard. I owe you, yeah, don't interrupt me for once and listen.” Even if he wanted to interrupt, Jaskier is utterly stunned. He has heard Geralt talking that much only when he's with Yennefer or Roach, never to him. It’s a nice change.  A callous hand lands on Jaskier's wrist, just above the bandages, a careful but intended touch that sends Jaskier's heart on full speed. "I couldn't feel you. You weren't… here anymore" with his other hand Geralt points at his own chest and isn't that poetic? the bard thinks. "I wasn't prepared to lose you, and I'm sorry, Jaskier, I'm fucking sorry. You've been by my side unconditionally even... even when I hurt you, even when I made sure to look the other way.” Geralt's thumb caresses the soft skin on his under wrist, right on his soulmark, and it's so wrong ,so unexpected that Jaskier can't take it anymore. He lets the salt water flow in a river down his stubble. "And I hate myself for making you believe that you're nothing but a travel companion. You're wrong, Jask, I wouldn't be fine if you died, I wouldn't survive losing you." Jaskier lets out an ugly sob. The pain in every inch of his body is nothing compared to this gaping wound with Geralt's name on it, his soulmate. Geralt wipes his tears with the back of his hand, despite being a tender touch the contact feels like a fire setting his skin. "You're my friend, the best I had. But you're much more than that, you're my s..." 

"STOP!" Geralt drives away like he's burning. A desperate expression settles on his face. 

Even when he's so sure that this must be very difficult for the witcher as is the first time he lets himself be vulnerable for Jaskier, he doesn't want to hear it. 

"Stop, please" Jaskier pleads in a broken whisper that rattles up his uneven soul  "You have no idea how long I've wait for this, you've no idea" a tired laugh bubbles from his chest sending spikes of pain all over his body, but before Geralt can act, Jaskier raises his hand to make him stay put. 

"It's not fair. Not after I lost all hope, not after I died and you lost the part of me that has always belonged to you but you haven't wanted it."

"I was a coward…" Jaskier cleans the tears with the side of his hand feeling like a lost child.

"I don't know if you were a coward or afraid or it's because of me..." 

"...Never, Jaskier, I… I’m sorry. It’s my fault…" 

"I've only wanted to belong, to be important to you"

"You are, Jask. I care about you.."

"I know, Geralt. What I said to Triss was born out of my stupid self-pitying side. I know you've cared about me all these years in so many ways. You've been careful with my feelings, not wanting to compromise more than you can give.” That's the reason he has stayed for so long. He hoped, longed and starved for something more, yeah maybe love, but he never expected it. Geralt never gave him false hope. "But, you have also been unkind and selfless at times. You have denied me the slightest recognition, making me feel small and unimportant, like a thumbed page in your history." The witcher made a wounded noise, and Jaskier hated himself a little for it, but he needed to say it and Geralt needed to hear it. 

“I don't want this, not because I died."

"I'm sorry" Geralt whispers with so much sorrow and reverence, like a defeated man amongst an army of creatures ready to take him apart.  And people said witchers were incapable of emotion. Maybe Jaskier is one of those creatures, and he hates it, it won't help to poke at the witcher's gaping wound, and it wouldn't be fair either, not after Geralt allowed himself to feel it. 

"Come here, Geralt" Jaskier groans when he pulls a little too hard after trying to stretch his arms towards Geralt, who rushes forward and moves the chair closer to take Jaskier by the wrist. "Careful" he says. 

"I wish I could touch you." Damn bandages constricting his hands.

"You'd hurt yourself" as if by compensating Geralt holds him tighter by the wrists, not to hurt but to anchor. They're so very close to one another, breath mingling together, until Jaskier rests his forehead on Geralt's and says in a whisper, only meant for them. "Thank you, darling, for letting me see you. But you must understand..." 

"I do" One of Geralt's hands travels up to his neck and stays there. 

"I want this to be real" more tears escape and Geralt wipes them away. 

"It's real." 

"I don't want to get hurt. Not again" Geralt takes his face between his hands and makes him look at him. This close Jaskier can see the tiny pale scars decorating the witcher's skin. "I won't take anything from you, Jask, not anymore. Let me prove this is real. Let me prove how important you are to me." Maybe it's selfish from Geralt for wanting to keep him after he lost him, and maybe it's selfish of Jaskier for wanting Geralt to need him. 

Jaskier nods against Geralt's palms making the witcher smile before letting him go "I’ve kept you awake long enough, you need to rest." Yeah, he’s really tired. 

Jaskier lays down with Geralt's help, every movement is agony but at least he has a pair of strong hands to support the worst. "I'll be back tomorrow." Geralt says standing next to the bed, suddenly awkward which makes Jaskier snort. Only moments ago he couldn't stop touching Jaskier. "You better."

Geralt looks down to him, a warm smile spreading on his lips "Goodnight, Jaskier." 

-

Jaskier recovery is slow and well… painful. Geralt goes every day with food and a single flower, sometimes when the layers of snow are thick, a twig. 

Jaskier thinks it's adorable, he reminds him of a cat but he doesn't tell Geralt that, of course. 

Ciri comes to visit, she is embarrassed and angry with herself for losing her sword, but before she starts blaming herself -like father like daughter- he throws a piece of stale bread from the morning at her head. 

"Ten points!" he exclaims with a punch in the air.

"You wish! Those are five. Ten is between the eyes." Geralt huffs from the window by the corner

"Excuse me ", Ciri says in a very dignified tone.

"No, five are from the neck below, ten on the head." 

"No, ten between the eyes, five on the head and below you lose." 

"Hey! I'm right here"

"Yeah? Well, here's a hundred points to you!" With all his strength and with exceptional care, Jaskier throws at Geralt the first object he finds on the nightstand, a candle. It barely reaches the middle of the room. 

Geralt chuckles followed by Ciri. "It's not funny" Jaskier pouts, he'd cross his arms if it weren't for the broken ribs that is. A moment later, before they stop laughing, Geralt is looking at him intently, like a cat no less. Jaskier is defenseless under the sun in the witcher's eyes, and he likes it so much that he’s falling addicted with that one look. 

"Jaskier is a brave fool. With or without a sword, he'd have thrown himself in front of the chort to save you." Jaskier's heart is fluttering inside his chest, like a moth trying to reach the sun. "He does whatever he wants" Jaskier huffs, blue eyes still on the suns "And I'm grateful for that." somehow Jaskier knows they're not just talking about the chort and Jaskier doesn't know what to do with those feelings, a lot of them, too afraid to grow, too afraid to hope. Oh, but he's a weak man for hope. I'm weak my love and I'm wanting.

-

"I avoided villages as much as I could when we had enough money."

"Geralt, are you confessing that you are stingy?"

"I wanted you to sing for me at night, after a hunt." 

"Wait, what?" 

"I like your voice when you don't have an audience, it's… softer. It helped me lessen the pain from the toxins of the potions"

"Then why did you always say my voice sounded like a cock with the flu in the open?"

"I like the fishy face you do every time I say something negative about your voice."

"WHAT? I…I don't, no, I...I..." 

"Exactly that face, yeah" 

-

It's past midnight and the keep it's quiet, everyone already sleeping, everyone except for him. He's having one of those nights where the throbbing pain it's becoming a little bit too much. His legs are numb and yet oddly present. He's afraid of breathing normally because the last inhale hurt like a bitch. He feels an irritating pressure in the head that won't let him sleep and…

"Jask?" Geralt it's at the door, but before he can ask what he is doing here so late the witcher is already at his side "Where does it hurt?"

"Everywhere"

"Mmmh" 

Geralt purses his lips in that adorable way he does when he's satisfied. "Don't you worry, my dear. Tomorrow morning I'd be as fresh as a daisy"

Geralt rushes to the wardrobe to open it. Jaskier can hear him searching among the vials. "Daisies are usually quiet." 

"Oh I'm sorry am I bothering you with my pain?" And then Geralt walks back to take the usual chair next to Jaskier's bed. He's holding the vial with the numbing salve that Triss brews for him every now and then. 

“The usual." Jaskier huffs and lofty laugh. Geralt puts the vial on the nightstand and reaches for the bandages on the bard's chest. Jaskier whacks at the hand "Hey, no, Triss already changed them.” 

"We have plenty." 

"Geralt..." 

"Jaskier..." and he surrenders under that worried look. Carefully and attentive of every move, the witcher hovers over Jaskier to unwrap the bandages on his chest. The back of his knuckles grazes Jaskier skin every turn. He shivers in delight for that small contact, the pain is now a minor inconvenience. With the bandages gone Geralt can see the palette of colors on the bard skin, black, purple, green, red and yellow in some places, it's not pleasant to the sight so to speak.   

Jaskier suddenly feels self conscious of his body, he has lost weight too, a shadow of his former sexy self. But Geralt doesn't seem to care. "This will help" Geralt deeps two fingers on the vial and Jaskier braces himself for the cold. Geralt has always been methodical and efficient in every task, but this time he's taking his time, applying the salve in small circles on his chest. Jaskier groans, the cold sensation is a relief but the contact hurts all the same. Geralt responds by placing one hand on the back of his head to guide him forward. 

Jaskier rests his forehead on the witcher's shoulder and stays still throughout the process. Geralt smells clean, like lemon soap. Jaskier breathes the scent of his favorite person in all the continent. Like earth and pines, no trace of Roach or onions. 

"Destiny is never wrong. I thought so too, but it has proven me wrong over and over again." Says Geralt above him, now making circles on his left side. "The dandelion on my arm kept me going after...after Renfri." Jaskier is shaking in pain and something more that hurts deeper. He never knew what really happened with Renfri, but he knew she was important to Geralt; he sometimes woke up imploring her name. "I killed her." 

“Geralt”  Jaskier whispers, placing a hand behind the witcher's back, to hold him as much as he can. Geralt is not applying the balm on his back.  

"She gave me no choice.” Jaskier nuzzles his face onto the witcher to offer comfort to both of them. "Your mark appeared a day before her death. I thought destiny was mocking me. A soulmate for a witcher? Come on. But it kept me going, you kept me going regardless of what I thought." Jaskier hisses when Geralt travels to his right side, it hurts the most there. He uses it as an excuse to press closer to the strong body holding him, or is it the other way around? "You've been traveling with me since then." 

"I bet it was quieter," Jaskier says, the fingers of his hand on Geralt's back twitching, caressing through the fabric. 

"Lonelier. Intolerable. A burden. But, yes, quieter" Jaskier hits him lightly on the back. 

Geralt untangle themselves to put Jaskier on the fresh bandages. He starts under Jaskier's armpit.. It's really not necessary but Jaskier presses again against the chest next to him, and Geralt lets him, even if it makes the wrapping a difficult task. 

"You are my destiny, Jaskier." and suddenly he's crying, struggling not to sob to avoid the pain, at least physically. Geralt holds him even after he finishes with the bandages and surprises Jaskier by placing a quick kiss on the top of his head. 

"It's late, you need to rest." Geralt steps aside to put the vial back in the wardrobe. Then he goes back to Jaskier to help him lay down. "Need anything else, water? to pee?" Jaskier smiles and shakes his head "Come here" he says instead "Closer…. Closer!"  When Geralt is close enough Jaskier surges forward as much as he can and places a kiss on the witcher's cheek, right below the eye. "You belong to me too, you know?" Geralt blinks fast "And now who has a fishy face?" It's funny how quickly he leaves the room. Jaskier sleeps with a smile on his face. 

-

"I've never seen Geralt like that. He's making an effort, for once." 

"Yenn, I..."

"Save it, bard. Believe it or not, I'm weirdly ok with whatever you two idiots have." 

"We are not..." 

"There is no a not between you. Was about damn time if you ask me" 

"Yen, I'm sorry..."

"Don't be. What we had was not real. You two are. Do yourself a favor and don't make this easy for him."

-

The day he is able to get up, with a lot of help, he asks Geralt if he can go down for dinner.  

Geralt grabs him by the waist to support his weight all the way down the stairs. Halfway through he starts to regret his decision, with every step the pain grows until he's sweating all over. He hates sweating. The other witchers are already seated on the tables of the main hall, eating and drinking. As soon as he enters everyone grows quiet. He's heaving and groaning which makes him feel embarrassed. In a keep full of strong majestuous Witchers, a weak bard with a few broken ribs it's a nuisance. Geralt helps him sit on the closest table and then goes to the kitchen to fetch them their meal. "Good evening" Jaskier says as loud as he can muster. No one answers. Maybe it will be better if he goes back to his room. And then, Lambert stands up from his seat on another table and goes to sit across from him. Soon after the other witchers follows him, taking their bowls and beers with them. He's suddenly surrounded by handsome and fearsome witchers, Ciri too sits next to him. "We, uhmm, we wanted to, you know?" Lambert makes a complicated gesture with his hands that Jaskier absolutely doesn't understand. “Yeah, so…”   

Cöen slaps him on the head and adds "We wanted to thank you, for saving our cub. For putting your life on the line for her, for us." 

"You don't have to." 

"Oh but we do." Says Vesemir who's entering the hall with Geralt on his back. Geralt reaches his side and offers him a bowl of stew and a piece of fresh bread. "Lambert" Vesemir calls for the younger wolf. 

"Yeah and we are sorry too for not welcoming you properly. We're idiots." 

"We?" says someone in a mocking tone. 

But before Lambert can answer Vesemir interferes "This is a safe place for you, bard." and Jaskier hears this is your home and feels himself crying, but refrains from it. “You’re welcome here anytime”. 

-

"You need shaving," Geralt offers one evening. Which leads Jaskier to be sitting in front of the window with a generous amount of foam on half of his face.  

Geralt is hovering over him with a very dangerous dagger on his hand "You sure this is safe?"

"You better be still." 

"Oh, come on!" Geralt rumbles a laugh and begins to slide the blade with utmost care on the bard's throat. Jaskier watches him mesmerized, completely at his mercy. He could die here, under the eyes like suns warming his skin. He likes this Geralt who's not afraid of touching and caring. He likes to feel loved by his soulmate. "The Djinn taught me that I could lose you." He also likes this Geralt who talks about the past and his feelings, he's nice.  "When I looked at you on Yenn's bed I thought about Renfri. I wanted to wish for destiny to free you and Ciri from me. But I fucked up. I took away Yennefer's choice in the process. Of wanting nothing and wanting no one to need me, I ended up hurting you, all of you." Geralt cleans the excess of foam with a clean cloth, he has finished shaving him but he hasn't stepped aside. Instead he lingers with the cloth on Jaskier's mouth "If only I hadn't made that third wish, not the way I did." 

"It's done, darling, don't beat yourself over it anymore." Geralt's fingers twitch against his bottom lip, the cloth suddenly forgotten. "Maybe I wouldn't have wasted as much time as I did." 

Jaskier raises his hand, withholding the pain, to take Geralt's hand to place kisses on the fingers. "There's still time" 

Geralt laces their fingers together and leans down to kiss the back of Jaskier's hand. They are so close, but still too scared. 

"How do I look?" Jaskier asks, "Good." Geralt lets go of his hand with a growing smile on his face. 

"Oh, come one, I'm sure you have a better review on my looks..."

"You look beautiful". 

-

"I can finally raise my arms to reach for things, it doesn't hurt as much anymore." 

"You're still a duck" Says Lambert while chewing on a bone, these witchers don't have an ounce of decency.

"A sexy duck though." 

“Sure.” 

"Geralt, would you mind passing me that tankard? I want to throw it at Lambert." 

"Yes, love." Geralt answers without thinking and they all stiffen. 

"What did you call him?"

"Yes, what did you call me?" 

"I knew it!" Cries Ciri from the other side of the room. If witchers could blush, Geralt would be the color of a ripe tomato. Triss is giggling and Vesemir is so done with his wolves. 

"I'm going to call my soulmate whatever I want."  Geralt finally emerges from his embarrassment, taking the tankard and passing it to Jaskier.  

"Yeah, he's calling me whatever he wants" Says Jaskier just before throwing the tankard at Lambert's head. 

"Ten points!" Ciri yells

"Five!" yells Geralt back from somewhere. 

-

"Love, uh?" Jaskier teases him.

"I'm sorry." Geralt sighs "I didn't want to make you uncomfortable"

"Me? Puff! no, not at all. On the contrary" By this point Jaskier has reached the witcher by the wardrobe, he takes the clothes that he is folding and places it inside without care.  

"Surprised? yes. Uncomfortable? no." Geralt groans and Jaskier identifies it as embarrassed. Aren't they domestic? Ugh, Jaskier could throw up and probably Geralt too. 

Jaskier grabs him by the waistline of his trousers to pull him towards him. In another time that gesture would have been too flirty for Geralt, now he welcomes it. 

"Why now, Geralt?" the witcher in question who was distracted by the bard's proximity until now replies. "What?"

"I told you, I don't want this just because I died." And just like that the conversation shifts to one that could leave them both hurt. 

"No." 

"No? Then it's because you're no longer with Yen?" oh, that does hurt like shit. But they have to have this conversation, Jaskier has to make sure. 

"What? No. I'm not with her because it wasn't real" 

"It seemed pretty real to me," says Jaskier petulantly. Geralt took him by the elbows bringing him impossibly closer. His hands travel down to Jaskier's forearm leaving a trace of embers behind. 

"This is real." Geralt whispers and caresses the mark on Jaskier's wrist. His mark. 

"Since when?" 

"Since the beginning."

"That's not true, Geralt. Don't lie to me." the bard's voice brakes but doesn't falter. 

"I'm not." Jaskier tries to get away but Geralt holds him. "I've always wanted you. That's the reason I wanted so desperately be away from you."

"How reassuring."

"You're perfect for me, Jask. No one else is. A bard who talks and talks to compensate for what I won't say. A noble who left behind everything to follow a witcher and follow his dreams. A poet, the occasional thief and mediator. Many of my hunts could have gone wrong without you, especially the payment.” They laughed in unison. And then Geralt took him by the chin and looked into his eyes. "These eyes..." says Geralt like a prayer "Beautiful," Jaskier felt like a teenager all over again, that eighteen year old boy who found his soulmate in a shitty tavern and didn't know what to do with his beating blushing heart. 

"Why now?" Jaskier asks again, looking into the witcher's eyes, he finds something he has always wanted but never dared to expect. 

"I was a coward, and I was afraid. I don't want to be afraid anymore" There's so much emotion inside Geralt right now, he doesn't know what to do with them. He's been afraid of them all this time. He rests his forehead against Jaskier and breathes in his scent. He smells like orange blossom and rain. 

"Then don't be." 

"Jaskier," Jaskier's heart breaks a little.

"My soulmate." whispers Jaskier against his ear "Let it go." 

"Would you let me?" Geralt asks, now buried on Jaskier's shoulder. "I understand if you don't, I don't deserve you after what I did..."

"Let it go, darling. I've got you." 

Geralt nuzzles the tender skin where shoulder meets neck, and plants a kiss there. "My soulmate."

Something shifts in Geralt, he grabs Jaskier by the hips and surges forward, their lips colliding. They kiss like drowning people, and maybe they were. It's everything a kiss with your soulmate should be, full of longing, love and devotion. Their tongues dancing, savoring each other. Geralt groans, his soulmate tastes wonderful. Jaskier tries to lift his hands to guide Geralt's kisses, a fucking mistake, he doubles over in pain breaking the moment, in the only way he can. By being stupid. 

Geralt's worried expression appears in his line of vision "Did I hurt you?" Jaskier laughs but that brings even more pain.   

"No dear. It's my fault. Why don't we take this kissing session to my bed so I can't hurt myself anymore." 

"We're not fucking, Jaskier." Adds Geralt exasperated. 

"Now, that's a thought." 

"Jaskier." warns Geralt.

"No, truly I need to lay down, I think something broke."

On the bed, Geralt lays next to him. They kiss and caress under clothes carefully. Jaskier loves him so much. His soulmate, his witcher, his Geralt. 

"You know people say that sex with your soulmate is amazing." 

"Jaskier, no." 

"Jaskier, yes!"

This is it, folks! As usual sorry for the mistakes, bla bla bla.

Hope you like it. I don't have the time to edit it :( I'm an adult.

@mordoriscalling @dustbunnyprophet @fintenciate @kore888 @geekymagicalpotato @gregre369 @theshapeofcool @janjan-the-ninth @zarakem @j-u-s-tmyself @life-as-a-gamergirl @melodymeddler @lawrites07 @youknowwhoiam3490-blog @help-help-i-need-an-adultlt @janjan-the-ninth @strangerzaiah @everything-but-the-not-natural /

Sorry if I forgot to tag someone, love you <3 stay safe and drink water

NOW ON AO3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/47665261

[friendlyreaderandco]

Ah! I lost another fic! I need to be better at bookmarking the ones I like! I’m 90% sure this one is a completed multi chapter on Ao3.

In this one Jaskier winters in Kaer Morhen. He ends up being very cuddly with all the Witchers (Lambert, Eskel, and Geralt). They all share a bed and really love Jaskier. I remember that lambert makes a comment at one point about how Jaskier will die soon and so they all stop touching him and Jaskier starts to get sad and insecure. Then vesemir goes to bed early since the room smells so sad at dinner. Jaskier all but yells at them asking why they seem to think he is a monster before he admits that he isn’t fully human and freaks out a bit before they all hug him and tell them it doesn’t make a difference.

I can’t remember who Jaskier is in love with. It’s either Geralt or all three of them! Also pretty sure Jaskier is part wood elf and he doesn’t age and flowers live a bit longer than they should. Geralt also makes a comment about how the flowers braided into his hair never wilt and lambert tries to tease Geralt about letting Jaskier braid them into his hair and he shoots back with something like, “shut up, you would let him braid them into your hair too!”

Thank you for any help!

@the-nettle-knight Saved my sanity! Thank you.

Fic found! If I Must Starve- Igneum807. A great sweet read!

[0dde11eth]

Jaskier: people who sleep hugging a pillow are the most touch starved people ever

Geralt:...

Geralt: why don't you mind your fucking business

[bigfan-fanfic]

Geralts favorite thing about dating his new boyfriend, are the long sessions they have where bf washes his hair. It’s always an issue intimate affair. A long thorough scrub that often involves head scratching and and scalp massage. And some very gentle and tender brushing and even some braiding sometimes

Geralt has very little experience with intimacy. Most of his experiences with romance and sex have been transactional at best and one-sided at worst. I definitely feel also that his enhanced senses make physical touch even more overwhelming than normal for someone whose touch-starved.

The only thing more intimate and enjoyable would likely be bathing together. As it stands, Geralt never can bring himself to ask for this treatment, but when you give it, he is completely under your spell. If he falls asleep, take it as a compliment - he rarely finds someone he feels so safe and comfortable with.

[astheskycries]

For your birthday event: maybe any HCs you have about the TG!babes that you’d like to share? 🤲🏻❤️

Oooh this is such a fun one!! Let me see what I can find for you...

Lloyd has an extensive weapon collection- knives, guns, old torture devices- that is COMPLETELY separate from his work. If anyone else touches them or even suggests he use them for business, they'll lose their tongue.

August is one of those people who is a Dominant 24/7. Sure, a lot remains in private, but he expects- hell, demands- obedience and perfection, in every aspect of his life. While he won't use punishments outside of your bedroom, you will learn to obey him.

Geralt can't cook a damn thing to save his life. Boil water? Nope. Roast a marshmallow? Beyond singed. The man exists off of frozen meals and fast food because if he relied on his own cooking, he'd starve to death. It's not something he likes to talk about.

Andy actually received a scholarship for the swim team when he went to college. By no means does he compete now, only swimming for routine and familiarity, but he used to be a champion growing up.

Though not nearly as fast as Diane was, Frank is a genius as well. He plays it off, but he immediately knew Mary was gifted because she'd find conclusions to things before he could, and they were always the same as his. He helps her a lot with her Gifted education, but only alone. Roberta is the only one who knows.

Steve is a skilled marksman, having done activities like shooting, axe and blade throwing, crossbow, archery- you name it, he can use it. And he never misses, which only makes an attack on him more offensive to him. If you aren't good enough to guarantee a hit, then clearly you weren't worth the price to attempt it.

Curtis doesn't flaunt wealth, but is pretty damn rich. Once he started working he invested well, and was able to collect and refurbished vintage bikes and quality coats and hats for the cold. It's very subtle, but if you look close you can see a bit of it.

[ellethespaceunicorn]

2023 Character Wrapped

@geralts-yenn and @raccoon-eyed-rebel tagged me to talk about my favorite characters. And well, this is just too good not to pass up. So, join me, won't you?

Let's rank my favorite characters! (Based on # of times I have written them).

Under the cut to keep my ramblings off your dashboard...but you just know there are bunch of Henry Cavill-shaped bitches under this cut.

But, in what order??

Alright, let's get this party started with...

Walter Marshall - Night Hunter

I feel like this is absolutely no surprise that I've written the most for this grumpy bear. But, I just call him Daddy. Whether he be touch-starved, an enemy turned lover, falling in love like a love-sick puppy, taking a little "me time" for himself, or being the goodest boy as werewolf Wolfie. Even wrote a headcanon about his hobbies.

2. Clark Kent - Man of Steel, BvS, Justice League

I have loved the character of Clark Kent since I was a little thing, I'm obsessed with curly-haired nerds. Clark also is the only character I have written "fluff" for, be it praising what you think are flaws or surprising you for your birthday. I have written him as a Sub and as a Dom (in my only work that has surpassed 1k notes).

3. August Walker - Mission: Impossible - Fallout

I've never written August as the good guy, and there is a reason for that. In my head, he's the life-ruiner. He can be sweet (to you), but odds are he just killed a guy because the guy looked at you for longer than a second. I've written August as a pissed-off Dom who was sick of being interrupted, a very bad Daddy, and an Uncle who takes advantage of his nephew's girlfriend here(original) and here(director's cut).

4. Captain Syverson - Sand Castle

Oh, Syverson. My baby don't even got a dayum first name and he's popular. I've written him confronting a lover during a post-apocalyptic pregnancy realization, and as a married father-to be getting his beard trimmed and talking to his unborn daughter. He's also featured in my Werewolf!Walter Marshall story, and that's all I'll say about that. (Also, I've been referring to him as James Syverson in every iteration of the character that I have written for - I think.)

5. Mike - Hellraiser: Hellworld

My sweet baby boy. He is a guilty pleasure. I gave him a full series where he finds love and has quite the cast of characters as his family. But, technically, I only wrote the series because of what happened here and here, when his naughty Uncle slept with his girlfriend.

6. Napoleon Solo - The Man from U.N.C.L.E.

He's just so fucking sexy. I love him, your honor. He's been a suave and sexy older man wooing a young student over a good meal, and also started a series where he was falling hard for a woman in his apartment building (still in the early stages and I promise @deandoesthingstome that I will get back to this series).

7. Sherlock Holmes - Enola Holmes series

I have also loved Sherlock Holmes since I was a little kid. I thought he was the coolest person ever, but he's a curly-haired nerd so of course I loved him. I love when Sherlock is in love, whether he is ignoring his bratty wife until he takes matters into his own hands, or if he is having trouble coming to terms with new love.

8. Charles Brandon - The Tudors

This little shit. This redeeemable, sexy, fucking slut. I love him. I've only written him once, and it was a request! But, I enjoyed it. I loved writing him getting teased sexually and then taking control of the situation. So hot.

9. Humphrey - Stardust

Ok, not actually a fan of Humphrey, I've just written him. And that was all thanks to @sillyrabbit81's milestone celebration at the beginning of this year. This fic is kind of a weird egg, just, go with me though. The plot is: you and Humphrey are step-siblings who end up getting a little...involved. I'm not sorry for the title of this fic.

And to our last entry, the only non-HC character...

10. Lloyd Hansen - The Gray Man

What can I say? If I had the means, and I guess I really do but whatever, I would rank this man at #2 above Clark Kent. Because Lloyd-excuse me...Sir is one of my all-time favorites. I've included him inside larger stories as a bit player, see Bright Like the Moon (where he plays a bad man later in the series). But, I also wanted him to have his own show where he was the star, so I had him stalk and kidnap a girl and tie her up in the basement and call her Sunshine. I also wrote a little headcanon about his family, quirks, hobbies and his sleeping habits.

TL;DR: Walter Marshall is Daddy, Lloyd Hansen is Sir. And I need to finish one series before starting another. Maybe I will work on that. *snort*

I have written for a lot of characters, and I'm not gonna stop. I really wanna write so much more and my WIP folder is literally overflowing with things. I just started a new fic like the day I posted the most recent chapter of THiCC. What am I doing??

No pressure tags: @cardierreh15 @milknhonies @halfofmysoulsblog @xblackreader @xsapphirescrollsx

[crowsoundsonly]

rachel's "i'm on winter break and have time to write" sleepover !!

hi everyone !! i am so excited to actually have time to sit down and write without university looming over me like storm clouds. there won't be a lot of rules, just a lot of fics and fun.

a few things to know:

send requests !!

no limit on asks or prompts requested !! i'm taking requests through jan 31, 2024.

if you have an original idea, send it my way !! it doesn't have to be from the prompt list.

if you want to join, please do !! write something !! tag me !!

i don't write super explicit smut. but i will def write some light smut and kissing and whatnot if requested.

no dub/con, no incest, no ultra-kinky stuff. sorry guys.

people i write for...

bucky barnes

ben barnes characters (the darkling, billy russo, caspian)

loki

will graham (hannibal)

cillian murphy characters (thomas shelby, jonathan crane, robert fischer)

tangerine (bullet train)

bruce wayne

geralt of rivia (the witcher)

prompts:

plot:

1. touch starved 2. hurt/comfort 3. holding onto the other’s shoulders for support 4. putting a hand over the other’s mouth to shut them up 5. showing up at each other’s house late at night 6. washing the other’s body 7. kissing their bruises and scars 8. sitting close and knees touching 9. meeting the family 10. teaching the other to… 11. watching the other when they are in their element 12. comfort kisses, goodbye kisses, first kisses, etc. 13. oral fixation 14. hand fetish

quotes:

1. "You know you’re pretty much the worst. In the best way possible." 2. "You smell good." 3. "You said I love you too fast." 4. "You were not supposed to find out about it." 5. "How long has it been since someone touched you like this?" 6. "Even if you don’t feel the same… I just wanted to tell you." 7. "Can you stay with me?"/"Don't go. Please." 8. "I say I’m over it but I still imagine it’s his hands in my hair when I’m alone.” 9. "I'm anything you want me to be." 10. "How can you be so smart, yet so stupid?" 11. "You’re dead to me." 12. "I thought it was just a silly crush, but it turned into more. I’m sorry, I know you don’t feel the same about me." 13. "Why are you staring at me?" 14. "I never thought this would happen." 15. "I am a god." 16. "Where did you go?" 17. "You were in my dream last night." 18. "Please don’t look (at me)…" 19. "I know I should be happy with friendship. So is it wrong of me to not be satisfied?" 20. "Stop worrying." 21. "So you've fantasized about me?" 22. "Why are you unbuttoning your pants?" 23. "You're shivering."

au’s:

1. babysitter 2. soulmates 3. flower/coffee/book shop 4. time travel 5. neighbors 6. coworkers 7. teachers 8. royalty 9. historical 10. fairytale 11. wedding 12. fake dating

happy asking and happy holidays ! - rachel

my masterlist :)