Babe. Brain cell bae. Bestie. Would you bestow upon us some ever so soft "post-potions" geraskier goodness? Pretty please?
I included purring for you, boo. Cause ily and you’re my bff and all that jazz.
---
“Loud,” Geralt complains, curling even further in on himself. “The fire is loud.”
His eyes are still pitch black, the veins curling outward and around his temples in little black tendrils of pulsing, toxic blood. The Witcher lies curled around himself, nestled deeply in his bedroll. He’s wrapped himself tightly with a blanket and even covered up most of his head. Only his eyes are visible to the bard, dark and narrow to filter some of the overwhelming light.
Jaskier sits nearby, as close as he can without touching his hypersensitive companion, and whispers: “Do you want me to hum again?”
The bundle of blankets nods in affirmation and the bard smiles. He begins to hum as quietly as possible, one of Geralt’s favorite lullabies. Eventually one scarred hand finds its way out of the mound and grips tightly at the soft blue silk of Jaskier’s pants. He starts to rub a bit of the material between his fingers and hums along to the familiar tune, settling himself back into his body.
“Feeling better, love?” the bard whispers again. The bundle nods a second time.
“Hmm.”
“Would you like it if I played with your hair?”
“Hmm.”
“Alright. I’m going to lift your head into my lap now,” he narrates the movements he makes as he makes them. Geralt could be flinchy and flighty in this state and Jaskier doesn’t ever want to frighten him. He starts weaving his fingers through the long white strands, delicately and carefully pulling any knots or tangles free. “Is this still okay?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Jaskier plays with it for awhile, braiding and unbraiding it as Geralt slowly comes down from his post-hunt potion high. Slowly but surely the bard listens as his breathing evens out and watches as his body stops making frantic little twitching movements from within his cocoon.
“Shall we sleep now, dear heart?”
“Hmm. Get in,” the Witcher scoots over, making room for Jaskier to slip easily into the circle of his arms. It’s a smooth, practiced series of movements and soon they’re pressed together within the confines of Geralt’s shared bedroll.
Jaskier’s lips find the Witcher’s even in the pitch dark (he’d let the fire fade to nothing in the warm embrace of summer) and latched them together. It gave him a point of connection. Geralt could anchor himself to the world with Jaskier’s warmth alone; sometimes he thought it might be the only thing keeping him from going absolutely mad with the darkness of his life.
Jaskier, the man who was now winding his hands into the front of the Witcher’s worn black shirt like it was his favorite childhood blanket, was the Witcher’s personal sun. His arms dart out and wrap around the bard with sudden intensity, crushing the smaller man against his chest.
A deep and thunderous rumbling erupts from his very core. Jaskier’s hands are still clasped against his chest and his head is resting safely in the crook of Geralt’s neck. Soft puffs of air breeze across the skin of his Adam’s apple every few seconds, marking the bard’s breathing and further strengthening the Witcher’s happy purring.
“I’m glad to hear that you’re happy, darling.”
“You’re here. You’re safe. I’m happy.”
“Does it make you happy, you know, keeping me safe?”
Geralt can see the unease in Jaskier’s eyes; it’s not so dark that he can’t make out the bard’s face with his Witchery enhancements.
“I don’t want to get in your way.”
The Witcher curls around Jaskier entirely, building a nest with his arms and chest and some of the blankets. He nestles his darling against him and purrs even deeper, vibrating the bard with the force of the sound. “Very happy.”
“I love you, Geralt.”
Geralt kisses his way across Jaskier’s face, from his cheek to his nose to his other cheek. He marks a slow path to the bard’s lips and presses a final, soft kiss to his mouth. “I love you, Jaskier. Thank you.”
Am I allowed to look at her like that
Could it be wrong when she's just so nice to look at
And she smells like lemongrass and sleep
She tastes like apple juice and peach
Oh, you would find her in a polaroid picture
And she means everything to me (Oh)
I'd never tell
No I'd never say a word
And oh it aches
But it feels oddly good to hurt
She smells like lemongrass and sleep
She tastes like apple juice and peach
Oh, you would find her in a polaroid picture
And she means everything to me
Oh, oh
Oh, oh
and I'll be okay
Admiring from afar
Cause even when she's next to me
We could not be more far apart
Cause she tastes like birthday cake, and storytime, and fall
But to her I taste of nothing at all
And she smells like lemongrass and sleep
She tastes like apple juice and peach
You would find her in a polaroid picture
And she means everything to me
Yes she means everything to me
Whyyyyyy..... Does anyone know of a way i can stream it? I’ve tried countless paid sites and such but none seem to work! It even looks like i cant outright buy the whole season. FML
Are fashion, art & decor your interests? Do you want to publish your own designs? URSTYLE offers you a new creative home and the best alternative for Polyfam!
Hey folks, Urstyle is a cool site I’m on where you can create “fashion” sets for fun. Its pretty much Polyvore for those of you whoe have used it.
Here is a Catra inspired one I made!
It’s super fun and easy and I recommend giving it a go! It’s also free, just click the link above if you want to check it out :P
is anyone else a 20+ year old giant queer nerd who loves shows that should be for kids but none of their friends are so they don’t really have anyone to talk about fangirl stuff with.... no just me?
Eddie Star Child @eddiestarchild - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
germansingergirl
blakekathryn
snowghoul
jacobvanloon
theartofmadeline
gummygunk
dailybridgerton
vaporwave
