ahhhhhhh no prompt will match what you did to me with matters of aching hearts(told u about it in dms but just. fuckkk) so im giving you hugs instead you gentle soul of a human but i suppose i have something prompt adjacent? doesnt matter which pairing but can they be somewhere full of peach trees apple trees and cherry blossoms? it was where i came out :) but it's perfectly fine if it doesnt fit in the story. just here to give u hugs 💚🤍🖤
i love you, my friend, i hope you enjoy this 💛 geralt is impossibly soft | ~700 words
matters of aching hearts (almost antithetical to this one) 💚🤍🖤
Geralt is not used to good things happening to him, let alone for them to be slow and gentle for once. Usually, when something important happens in his life, it happens with a bang. Quite literally, sometimes. It’s always heavy, always leaves him reeling despite the joy he might be feeling — but good things usually make him want to keep them. And that brings with it a desperation that borders on fear, so any trace of lightness and serenity is quickly crushed by the fierce grip with which he’s holding onto them.
He tries not to dwell on it too much, but the undercurrent of apprehension towards all things good in his life is always there.
That is why he is surprised at how slowly the warmth in his chest has been spreading before it settled into a constant bloom of contentment and affection. A feeling so good and gentle it almost brings tears to his eyes when he notices it, and he is glad that his eyes are closed against the sun above so the world can’t see his fight.
The world can only see the smile on his lips and the lack of tension in his shoulders as Jaskier weaves his hands through Geralt’s hair, humming a familiar tune as he does.
That world that sounds and feels like Jaskier smells of sweet apple and cherry blossoms, and if Geralt opened his eyes he would see a smile on his best friend’s lips.
For once, good things don’t bring heaviness and desperation. Instead, they bring him Jaskier.
The bard with the light in his eyes and the spring in his step and the lilt in his voice, the bard who fell for him and tugged him under until Geralt couldn’t breathe. The bard who breathed a sigh of relief when Geralt told him, “I cannot love you. Not like you need me to.”
Jaskier had looked at him, nodded and given him his most genuine smile yet.
“I do not think you will understand what I’m about to say, but to hear that was all I needed to hear to simply love you the way you need me to.”
And it was true, Geralt hadn’t understood then.
But now he does. When Jaskier has a crush, his world does just that: it crushes. Uncontrollably. It will make him feel alive for a while, but then he will find himself caged until he has to break free and run, run far away, and fall in love with the next unassuming person. Only when he knows that nothing will come of a crush does he have the freedom to really fall in love with a person. Not to kiss them, not to sleep with them, no. But to be with them, to understand them, to smile at them like he is doing right now.
Jaskier has explained to Geralt oftentimes that he doubts he is capable of loving like the world expects him to. How ridiculous, Geralt had thought then and still thinks now. Why would the world expect you to love any differently? Why would the world deny itself the way you comb your fingers through my hair, why would anyone starve themselves of your laugh, your smile, your company?
He has told him so, i’m not as many words, and Jaskier had only smiled and thrown his arms around Geralt’s neck, called him a sappy witcher and gone on with whatever story he’d been in the middle of telling.
Geralt still does not understand, does not even try to, for he is not used to good things and the way the world needs them to manifest.
Instead, he allows himself to feel warm and content, a smile on his lips, the smell of apple and cherry blossoms in the air, and Jaskier’s fingers in his hair. The world can stop if it is so inclined, but it cannot stop them. They are stupid to starve themselves of the gentlest kinds of love.
Above him, Jaskier begins humming a new melody. The witcher drifts off, head in his truest love’s lap. Cherry blossoms woven into his hair.
~
tagging: @horsedadgeralt @wherethewordsare @natilieal @luteandsword @meebles @toboldlynerd
