A bitch takes one Human Sexuality class and gets stuck on the fucking Sensate Focus bullshit then has to write a fic about it. Its me. I’m the bitch. 😂
Warnings: Geralt is self depriciating-whats new, insecure jask, insecure geralt, overwhelmed by touch, big vulnerability, they’re in couple’s therapy, so like, its a rocky relationship, we got some connection building and cuteness in the end too, its not all bad, mentions of sex, nudity but like not in a smutty way, for once I dont think i used a single swear word? I had big feels while writing it i really hope they translated lmao.
I am but a humble psych major, not an actual therapist, so plz don’t come at me if shit isn’t accurate. I tried my best.
Also this is under a cut for a reason, not just length. If you are easily triggered by touch starved type fics this is not for you. It gets emotionally heavy plz read with caution.
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“You want us to what?”
“Come on, Geralt. You said you’d try.”
“I- no. Just- why? What’s the point?”
Both Geralt and Jaskier turned to their therapist, each equally confused and a little scared.
The tiny woman kept her face completely impassive and answered his question, “The exercise helps people get out of their heads and reacquaint themselves with, not only being open with their partner, but also slowing down and enjoying touch for touch sake. Without being so focused on the end goal of sex or pleasing a partner, people can begin to refocus on the connection attachment theorists claim is the underlying motivation for sex without reproduction in the first place.”
Geralt swallowed hard. This was for him and he knew it. He’d said it himself, he was fucking terrified of failure and rejection and that absolutely extended to Jaskier. His husband. Of five years. Who’d been with him for ten. Logically it made no fucking sense, but the woman with the PhD had told him this was rather normal for a child of divorce as if he’d said he didn’t like horseradish sauce. He didn’t see how being scared of your spouse secretly hating you was normal in the slightest.
He glanced over at Jaskier who sat at the other end of the black leather sofa picking at his nails. When they’d gotten married they’d laze around all day just holding each other and talking. It was safe and sweet and Geralt couldn’t for the life of him remember how it was tainted.
“Alright,” he grunted, “What’re the rules again?”
-
The next afternoon they’d carved out an hour and a half with no distractions, no phones, not even any music to Jaskier’s dismay. Apparently that was against the ‘guidelines - not rules’.
They stood in their bedroom, lights dimmed and curtains drawn, as much for the ambiance as for the privacy. Geralt felt his stomach flip flop as he stepped out of his clothes, feeling a bit ridiculous. It’s not as if this was the first time they’d seen each other naked, but it was the first time they were to spend ‘as much time as necessary’ -whatever that meant- touching each other, one at a time.
Jaskier dropped his clothes in the laundry bin and stood with his arms crossed, almost like he was hiding, “Right. So… Do you want to go first? Maybe go over things again?”
“Do you want to go first?” Geralt asked, immediately drawing his bottom lip between his teeth to gnaw at the peeling skin.
“I just want to know why you look so scared, to be honest,” Jaskier breathed.
Geralt took a deep breath, reminding himself that he wasn’t the only one being vulnerable here, “Not scared. Just nervous.”
“Rules then?”
Geralt nodded, “No talking. No, uh, erogenous zones. No sex. No kissing. If you don’t like something or it’s a big turn on or it tickles, move the other person’s hand.” the weight in his chest lessened a little bit, this really was simple. Just touching Jask. Something he’d done a million times. Hell he might not even get anything out of it. He didn’t need to be so damned worried about things going wrong.
“If you get overwhelmed think about temperature and texture and how it feels. Don’t think about what the other person is thinking or feeling. The only bit that matters is moving their hand,” Jaskier added, his posture relaxing ever so slightly as he rocked up on his toes and back down.
Geralt stepped a little closer, holding out his pinky finger, “We don’t stay still if we don’t like something.” He said it more to reassure Jaskier than anything.
Jask hooked his pinky around Geralt’s and smiled, “No barreling through,” he agreed.
“Can I, uhm… go first?” Geralt kept their pinkies hooked together as he let their hands hang between them.
Jaskier looked surprised, but nodded fervently, “Of course!”
“Okay,” Geralt pulled his hand back and ran it through his hair before stepping a bit closer, hovering both of his hands over jaskier’s shoulders, “So I just-?”
Jaskier nodded and whispered, “No talking, love.”
Geralt let out an amused huff, the irony of the words bringing a soft smile to his face. He took a deep breath in and slowly let it out as he placed his hands over Jaskier’s arms.
Sensations. He could do this. He was doing this.
Jaskier’s arms were soft, both in texture and in feel, giving way to Geralt’s fingers ever so slightly when he squeezed. He trailed his hands down over Jaskier’s elbows, noting the patches of dry skin over the joints that Jask had been scandalized by in college. His forearms had more hair, but it was softer than Geralt’s, silky even, and nice to touch. Geralt trailed his fingers down Jaskier’s wrist and back up, watching as the little hairs stood on end but seemed to stick to the pads of his fingers as he moved past them. When he noticed the goosebumps he glanced up to Jaskier with mild panic in his eyes, worried he’d already fucked it up and made him uncomfortable. But his husband just nodded, a light smile on his lips.
Temperature. Back to task.
Geralt picked up Jaskier’s hand, holding it in one of his as he skimmed his fingers over his knuckles and calluses. His palms were warmer than the back of his hand and it seemed every spot where his skin had built up from use was just a tad colder than the thinner skin next to it.
He gently guided Jaskier’s hand back down and trailed his hand up his arm, ghosting his fingers over his collar bone. He thought about how much softer this skin was, and how it made the butterflies in his stomach go wild as he moved back and forth over the spot a few times. He liked the pleasant little pitfall of his stomach, not arousal but not unlike it, just a little higher in his abdomen and lighter. He moved his other hand to mirror his movement’s on Jaskier’s other shoulder, palms soon coming to rest over his chest almost on their own.
Geralt was so aware of his hands they almost felt numb. It made him think of one of those motor skills brain maps where it showed how much of your brain was devoted to moving which part of your body. Those huge chunks devoted to his hands must have been screaming.
Jaskier gasped as a bit of his chest hair got caught in Geralt’s ring as he swept his hands downward. Geralt gave him an apologetic look but just got a grin and slight shake of his head in return instead of the shock he expected.
Geralt continued, moving his hands in slow circles over Jaskier’s abdomen and hips and flanks, marveling at the warmth he felt not only under his hands but spreading through his chest. He let his hands rest above Jaskier’s hips, just at the bottom of his ribs and watched as his hands slowly moved apart and back together in time with Jaskier’s breath. It looked like such a small movement, but when he closed his eyes he felt like he was throwing his arms wide open. He tried matching his breathing to Jaskier’s, but that was close to overwhelming, so he moved on, refocusing on the texture and thickness of his chest hair as he moved up to his neck.
One of his hands stayed resting on Jaskier’s chest as his other brushed up the side of his neck with the backs of his fingers. Even with such light pressure he could feel the thick ropes of muscle and tendons under his skin. It was warmer over his pulse point and Geralt’s breath hitched when he felt the little thump of a heartbeat under his fingers. He closed his eyes for a moment, surprised to find himself taking a deep breath, not out of fear or frustration, but to sink into the feeling as much as he could. He counted the beats, making a note of how comforting the feeling was. The longer he held his fingers in place, the softer the beats became, until they leveled out to a soft and steady thrum.
When Geralt opened his eyes the beats picked up, matching the strange look on Jaskier’s face. Geralt moved his hand over his jaw and back a few times. He could almost hear the ridges of his fingerprints catching on Jaskier’s stubble as he traced over his upper lip.
He felt a soothing sense of familiarity when his fingers grazed along the outline of Jaskier’s lips. His body latched onto the feeling and he found himself starting to get watery eyes as he reacquainted himself with the thin pink skin. He remembered their first kiss and how much it scared him even though he craved it so completely. He remembered kissing Jaskier over and over and over when they’d finally said ‘i love you’ and dropped the casual pretense. He remembered their kiss at their wedding, soft, firm, and a little wet with happy tears.
An annoying voice that sounded an awful lot like their therapist sounded off in his head, “This is what I was trying to tell you, asshat. Focus on the positive.”
Geralt smiled despite the sharp tug behind his eyes that told him he might cry, and brushed his fingers up over the thin skin beneath Jaskier’s eyes, careful not to press hard enough to catch and pull at the blueish skin. He traced his eyebrows, the bridge of his nose, his cheekbones and hollows, his chin, and his cupid’s bow, all with that same surprisingly pleasant near-tears feeling in his chest. He watched Jaskier’s eyes watching him as he carded one hand through his hair.
That was what did it, what made the tears start to dribble down his cheeks as his hands continued to gently comb through his husband’s hair. The look of wonder and relief he was met with was overwhelming. He felt a bit of guilt, sure. Guilt for letting things get as bad as they’d been, but he was overwhelmed by how much love he felt. It permeated his whole body and the air around him. He hadn’t even felt this in the beginning; this was a settled and sure feeling, not the frantic need he’d felt before.
Geralt pressed their foreheads together and closed his eyes, sending a fresh wave of tears over his cheeks as he brushed his hands over Jaskier’s back. He traced his spine, counted every rib, and outlined his shoulder blades with the tips of his fingers.
Their fronts were pressed together, but technically it wasn’t against any rule, so neither of them moved back. Geralt’s hands moved to the dip in Jaskier’s hips, his thumbs brushing over the place where his skin creased when he sat and Jaskier wrapped his hands around his wrists. A warm puff of air washed over Geralt’s face as Jaskier breathed a small laugh and moved his hands up. Surprisingly enough, Geralt was only amused by being moved, filing the information away for later as he settled for measuring Jaskier’s breaths again, now leaning into the full body tingle he felt when they both exhaled.
He wanted to stay right there for hours, but he suddenly wanted Jaskier to touch him. More than that, he wanted Jaskier to feel like him. He gave his sides a gentle squeeze as he straightened up and rocked back a bit, making the smallest bit of space between them.
“Switch,” he whispered, the soft sound coming out like crunching gravel in the charged silence.
He let his hands fall to his sides as he opened his eyes, a little relieved to see he wasn’t the only one crying.
Jaskier immediately reached up to cup Geralt’s cheeks and brush the tears away. It was odd, having to stay still when Jask was right there, when he could still feel the echoes of the sensations in his hands. But he stayed put, if for nothing else than the look of cautious excitement Jaskier was wearing.
He wanted to tell him there was no need, that he would gladly spend the rest of the day standing in the dim light of their bedroom, silently taking turns softly caressing each other. But rules were rules.
Jaskier drew his hands a little closer together over his cheeks, making sure all the tears were smudged away with his thumbs as Geralt’s eyes fluttered shut. The warmth of his hands was soothing, especially when Jaskier slowly brushed his thumbs over Geralt’s eyelids. As Jaskier dragged his fingers over Geralt’s chin and brushed the backs of his fingers back up and over his cheeks, Geralt almost started to feel dizzy. He forced his eyes open and focused on watching Jaskier’s face.
His tongue stuck out between his lips as his hands fluttered down his nose and to his lips. A wistful smile graced his features as he brushed over the chapped skin, pulling his bottom lip down just enough so when he let go it popped when it jumped back up to meet his top lip. Geralt tried not to smile, wanting him to do it again, but raised an eyebrow. Jaskier openly grinned and popped his lip a few more times before smoothing his thumb over it. He tucked some hair behind Geralt’s ear and cupped his hands around the base of his neck, gently pressing his thumbs into the tense muscles.
A shiver ran down Geralt’s back as Jaskier brushed his hands out and over his shoulders, thumbing circles over the points where muscle just barely covered bone. Geralt watched his eyes, watched the little crows feet get deeper when he smiled and watched his brows lift up and together.
It occurred to him then that Jaskier might have been just as lonely as he was, that the exuberant extrovert he’d married wanted this as badly as he did. It truly never crossed his mind until he saw it written plain as day on Jaskier’s face; he wasn’t the only one with insecurities in their relationship.
Every bone in his body wanted to pick Jaskier up and crush him to his chest. The trails of goosebumps his fingers left over his skin made it even harder not to, but Jask was enjoying this. He’d even go so far as to say he was lost in it. Rules be damned, Geralt couldn’t take this away from him if he’d wanted to.
When Jaskier’s hands ghosted over his navel he shivered and let his eyes flutter closed. If he wasn’t going to break and move he should at least lean into it.
However, being held without expectations, without needing, or even being allowed, to do or say anything in return was beginning to seem overwhelming. How had Jaskier just stood there and watched him? How could anyone just stand and constantly be told with the light brush of someone else’s knuckles over their cheek that they were desired and cherished? When the hands pressed to his chest told him over and over that he was loved, what kind of escape was there?
One of Jaskier’s hands once again brushed his tears away and he leaned into it, lip trembling as he looked up at the ceiling trying to compose himself. Jaskier would have none of it, gently tilting his head down until their noses brushed and he was forced to look into his watery blue eyes.
He needed this. Geralt was terrified but Jaskier’s expression spoke of a yearning that ran so deep even he probably couldn’t put a name to it. Geralt licked his lips and offered a watery smile, feeling warm relief when Jaskier smiled back and ran his hands down his arms to rest behind his elbows. He squeezed the meat behind his arms, the tops of his forearms, the tendons in his wrist, making his fingers involuntarily curl. Geralt didn’t move, he barely breathed, as Jaskier watched his own hands roam over Geralt’s like he’d never seen anything like it.
When he stopped trying to run the sensation faded to a dull roar. Jaskier’s hands were warm and his breath across his skin was gentle. Geralt might even admit he felt a little bit worthy of the adoration in his husband’s eyes after a few minutes.
Jaskier’s touches were light in some places, firm and grounding in others. Like when he circled his arms around Geralt and pressed his palms into the small of his back, resting his forehead where his collar bones met. Geralt had no idea how something so simple could make him feel so weak. He knew it wasn’t entirely true, but it felt like the only thing holding him up was Jaskier’s touch. When he rocked back, even if it was only an inch or so, Geralt had to fight not to follow him.
Jaskier rested his hands over his ribs, just above his elbows, and stared into his eyes.
They’d agreed to say ‘end’ with their therapist. That’s what Geralt was waiting for. So when Jaskier whispered ‘enough’ and gave him a gentle squeeze it was all he could do to bite down on his lip and keep quiet. Of course he would say enough. The one word Geralt had struggled with from day one. Being enough always felt impossible, but he could begin to think of it as a bit more attainable standing in their dim bedroom without a sound in the world other than their breathing.
He nodded and they both picked up their notepads and scribbled down the notes they were supposed to. Geralt’s was just a list of words but he didn’t care, he filled most of the page and chucked it on the bedside table before tugging on his sweats.
When he looked up for Jaskier he found him staring at him, worry on his brow and pen hovering over what looked like a second nearly full page.
“Do you, maybe want some tea while you write?”
He licked his lips and nodded, adjusting the blanket wrapped around his shoulders before going back to frantically scratching words onto his page.
Geralt gently closed the door after him and took a deep shaky breath as he padded into their bright kitchen, running his hands through his hair. The kettle seemed to take forever with how fast his mind was racing, replaying every bit he could to lodge it in his memory.
Jaskier was just closing his notebook and setting it on top of his laptop when he opened the door with his foot, careful not to spill any hot liquid on the carpet.
“Thank you,” Jaskier whispered, taking his cup and sitting at the foot of the bed.
Geralt joined him and draped an arm over his blanket wrapped shoulders, “Of course.”
They slurped at their mugs in silence until Geralt was able to take a full sip without scalding the roof of his mouth.
Jaskier’s voice was soft as he spoke, the air from his words interrupting the steam drifting up from his mug, “Can I ask you something?”
“Mhm,” Geralt leaned in just a hair.
“Why did you look up?” Jaskier rested his head on Geralt’s shoulder as he asked and it took Geralt a moment to remember he was supposed to answer.
“I…” he took a deep breath to pull his words together before he mis-stepped, “You stood still and watched me, and looked happy… and I wanted to do that for you… but I started crying again and I-hm. I didn’t want you to think I didn’t want to be there-here. Wherever.”
One of Jaskier’s hands drifted from his mug to Geralt’s thigh, “I was just worried.”
“Didn’t translate, huh?” Geralt asked, giving him a light squeeze.
“Not quite,” Jaskier chirped, almost giggling.
Geralt hummed and pressed a kiss to the top of Jaskier’s head, “I’m sorry.”
“S’okay. Now I know.”
There were a few more moments of silence before Geralt chuckled, “I didn’t realize your hips were so ticklish.”
Jaskier snorted, an attempt at sipping his tea absolutely aborted to save a spill, “I’ve never been ticklish, Geralt.”
Geralt set his tea on his knee and tilted Jaskier’s chin up to look at him, suddenly concerned, “What didn’t you like about me touching your hips?”
Jaskier’s goofy smile turned a little sly, “Absolutely nothing. In fact,” he started, taking both their half finished teas and setting them on the window sill before turning to envelop Geralt in the blanket with him, pulling him down onto the bed, “I liked it a bit too much.”
Hey bouncy! Can i get some Geralt being real sweet/tender with Jaskier? Im in a real soft geralt mood so go ham if u so wish!
You sure can, fam.
---
The bard snuggled closer, snuffling and snorting a bit in his sleep. Geralt should have been annoyed. He should have removed Jaskier’s limbs from around him and turned away, letting the bard find his heat with a blanket like a normal person.
But he didn’t.
Instead, as Jaskier slept soundly, Geralt allowed his arm to wind around the bard’s waist. He pulled the other man closer, ever so slowly, careful not to ruin his rest. When Jaskier was close enough, Geralt buried his nose in the dusty brown hair and breathed in deeply. This was heaven.
With the warm weight of his bard against his side and the scent of home surrounding him like a spell of protection, Geralt drifted off to sleep himself.
Jaskier wasn’t nervous. He absolutely wasn’t nervous. Except he was. He totally was because he had a dinner date – was it even a date? It’s just dinner, come on Jask – with a gorgeous hunk of a complete dork of a dad that was utterly besotted with his angelic little gremlin. And Jaskier had just met him. Just met Geralt and Ciri and already he was determined not to blow it. Frankly, Jaskier didn’t care if Geralt wasn’t interested – he's probably ten years older than me, he’s got a kid, he might be straight-straight not just kinda straight – but he so desperately wanted to spend more time with them both and get to know them.
God knows he could use some more friends. Valdo seemed to have left their relationship with all their mutual friends, but I suppose that’s what happens when you date a guy from university for four years and just make friends with all his music friends and –
Jaskier wanted so badly to get this right.
Which is why he stood outside the Rivia house – a beautiful old tall town house which Jaskier would have bet has one of those gorgeous long winding gardens – with a distinctly not-rubbish film and some flowers. A simple but beautiful bunch of wildflowers that Jaskier had stared at for at least fifteen minutes at the shop after he’d left Geralt and Ciri in confectionary. He’d decided to risk it but they’re white and delicate so if he's read the vibe completely wrong they’re obviously for Ciri.
He knocked. Geralt said not to ring the doorbell because next door has a baby.
Oh God I should have changed. Why am I still wearing my shopping clothes and this dumb scarf –
“Hey, Jaskier.”
Jaskier looked up to see Geralt at the doorway, long white hair tied up now and an apron at his waist – oh man why is that sexy?
He had a flour smudge on his cheek and his shirt was covered in flecks. Jaskier was about to tease him and ask why he’s only got a tiny apron when he's wearing a black shirt when he heard footsteps behind the man.
“Mr Frilly!” Ciri cheered as she joined them in the doorway. She was wearing a full-size apron which on a child should look utterly ridiculous but she was also wearing an expression that said she was in charge.
“Already started on dinner I see!” Jaskier said with a grin.
Geralt looked down at his shirt and gave a very sweet shrug before standing to the side and gesturing for Jaskier to join them inside.
“Make yourself comfortable,” he offered. Ciri had already bounded back down the hallway so Jaskier shuffled in and started to wiggle his shoes off with his feet. This inadvertently drew attention to the flowers in his hand.
“Uh, I brought these,” Jaskier started, studying Geralt’s face carefully. Beneath the white smudge of flour there was a distinct pink blush. He didn’t think Geralt looked uncomfortable but oh God it’s so hard to tell. “I brought these.” He repeated quietly.
Jaskier inched the flowers forward to Geralt and thank God he took them. Geralt smiled. No doubt there, that was a proper nice smile.
“Thank you, Jaskier,” he said softly. Jaskier felt Geralt's hand on his shoulder and he was about to say something when –
“Daddy, the dough has gotten SO big!”
Jaskier and Geralt shared a little laugh before Geralt lead him further into the house.
The kitchen was in surprising order considering the state of the chefs, and Jaskier and Geralt walked in to find Ciri proudly holding up a bowl of proofing dough.
“I’ll show you how to make a base,” Ciri said excitedly.
“Wash your hands, Ciri,” Geralt reminded her and Jaskier also took his turn at the sink. As he dried his hands, we watched Geralt dig around a cupboard for a vase, as though he hadn’t used one in a long time, before carefully arranging the flowers to sit in the middle of the kitchen table.
It was a wonderfully sweet evening. Jaskier and Ciri both managed to get covered in flour as they tried to shape pizza crusts while Geralt seemed to be able to do it blind and helping them at the same time.
Jaskier had figured they’d be using tomato puree (he won’t admit to how many years at university he’d lived on pasta and tomato puree) but Geralt brought over a pan of homemade tomato sauce that smelled so good. Even better was the proud little smile he made when Jaskier told him how good it smelled. Best yet was the blush and sudden inhale Geralt didn’t manage to hide when Jaskier couldn’t resist sticking a finger in to try a lick.
“Toppings!” Ciri exclaimed as she carried what Jaskier assumed was a stack of everything from the fridge. Cheese quickly went absolutely everywhere as they each assembled a pizza and it turned out the pair had a tradition of making an extra Frankenstein pizza with every topping.
They loaded them into the oven – “Daddy's going to build a pizza oven in the garden next spring,” Ciri excitedly informed Jaskier. “But they’re still good in the oven.”
Geralt started to clear up while the pizzas cooked, and Ciri immediately vanished. Jaskier stood next to him at the sink to dry things up.
“Thank you for asking me over,” Jaskier said, even though it was clearly Ciri that asked. “I'm really glad I’m here.”
Geralt Hmmed at that, and Jaskier had started to notice it might be his default setting but it sounded like a happy Hmm at least. “What would your Saturday night have been otherwise?” Geralt asked.
“Oh, um,” Jaskier hesitated and dammit he knew he was blushing but he’s going to think I'm so naive and just struggling and – “Well, I’m usually performing at some venue or another, if I’ve managed to get any bookings.” He looked over at Geralt and he seemed interested, not like he suddenly regretted inviting a hipster over, so, “I sing and, uh, play guitar. Among other things.”
Geralt nodded, and definitely didn’t look at Jaskier's mouth when he bit his lip nervously, except Jaskier definitely saw his eyes dart down.
Jaskier shrugged. “But nobody knows me around here. Not yet anyway,” Jaskier laughed quietly. “I’m on at the open mic night this week at Posada's –”
“The live night at The Mandrake is pretty good,” Geralt cut in. Jaskier couldn’t have contained his smile even if he’d tried. Honestly, so many people laughed at him for still trying and –
Breathe, Jask.
“Yeah? What kind of music do they usually have? I mean, well, a lot of my covers usually go down really well, but I also play a lot of my own songs,” Jaskier asked as he dried up the last bowl. Damn it, he was starting to ramble. But he looked over again at Geralt and the man was nodding, and Jaskier thought he might have Hmmed again. Silently though. Jaskier got a little distracted again watching Geralt dry his hands on Jaskier's dish towel and then start to put things away.
“Hmm? What sort of things do you write?” Geralt finally asked, and he definitely stood closer than he needed to as he reached around Jaskier to pick crockery up from the counter.
Jaskier was absolutely not about to reply something like meeting hot dads at the supermarket when the oven timer beeped loudly.
“Pizza!!”
Jaskier jumped a little at Ciri's sudden – immediate – reappearance and although he had no real reason to blush, his cheeks felt like they were on fire.
Geralt laughed ever so quietly. Jaskier eyed him carefully as the man's mouth turned up in the slightest smirk. Oh, Geralt was teasing him.
Jaskier flicked the dish towel at Geralt before joining Ciri at the oven, taking the mitts from her before she could try to hurt herself carrying too many hot pizzas. They took the pizzas to the lounge and before Jaskier could worry about where he should sit, Ciri sat him in the middle of the sofa because that’s where guests sit, Mr. Frilly.
“What film are we watching?” Ciri asked, sat on the floor in front of the telly to get to the DVD player.
“Oh!” Jaskier popped up again and went to his bag. “Have you guys seen The Princess Bride?”
Ciri had not and Gert agreed it was a not-rubbish film. Not that Jaskier would have judged him too harshly if he didn’t liked his favourite film.
He sat between Geralt and Ciri as they ate pizza, and Jaskier definitely agreed it was at least the best pizza in town and quite frankly until he tried ‘Papa Vesemir's’ pizza, he was willing to say best ever. They watched the film, Geralt and Jaskier both half watching Ciri watch it for the first time. When Geralt took his hair out from its bun, Jaskier couldn’t help but reach over to tuck a stray lock behind his ear before Geralt tied half of it back anyway.
Away from the warm kitchen, it cooled down quickly in the lounge so Geralt pulled the throw blanket over them from the back of the sofa. He laughed softly when Jaskier stole the opportunity to tuck in closer as his arms were raised, and then laughed properly when Ciri used Jaskier's distraction to steal his frilly scarf.
Jaskier must have dozed off towards the end of the film because he woke up to Geralt carefully easing him up from leaning against his chest as the credits rolled. “Just putting Ciri to bed.”
Ah, yes, parenting to be done. Jaskier blinked himself awake somewhat while Geralt followed Ciri upstairs. As he listened to muffled arguments about whether she'd brushed her teeth for long enough and how many stories she needed before sleep, Jaskier took their cleared plates back to the kitchen.
He was putting the last of the clean dishes away when Geralt reappeared.
“The princess sleeps?” Jaskier asked softly. Geralt Hmmed at him, leaning against the door frame in a way that looked far too good for him to not be aware.
“Are you awake now?” Geralt teased, and Jaskier admirably resisted sticking his tongue out. Really though, he only resisted because he finally closed the distance between them and leaned up, hopeful, towards Geralt. He was pretty sure, but Oh god what if he really had misread things –
Geralt kissed him. He kissed him softly, steadily and with a firm hand holding Jaskier's hip to his waist.
Jaskier sighed, only loud enough for Geralt to just hear. “Yeah, I'm awake.”
Know what would be super cute? Grabby hands. Preferably pouty bards doing grabby hands. I leave the rest to you, Comfy. (Love, Bouncey)
Oh boy. You get me.
Warnings: none. this is fluff central
__________
Geralt sat by the fire, slowly and methodically sharpening his swords as dusk turned to inky night. Jaskier had ‘gone to sleep’ about an hour ago, though really all he’d been doing was tossing and turning.
The bard rolled over, watching Geralt through the flames of the fire with a pout.
Geralt felt a tug of amusement at his lips but fought it, waiting for Jaskier to give him the excuse he needed.
“Geralt?”
“Hmm.”
“M’cold.”
He raised an eyebrow, not looking up from his sword, “Summer solstice was yesterday.”
Jaskier whined and held his arms out, opening and closing his fists at Geralt like a cat kneading.
Geralt couldn't stop the fond smile this time, setting the sword and whet aside before kicking off his boots, “Only because you’re cold.”
Jaskier shuffled around to make room for the witcher, still making grabby hands at him with his eyes only barely open. When Geralt was situated Jaskier snuggled up to his chest, one hand gripping the fabric of the witcher’s shirt and one wrapped around his own waist, tucked out of the way. Geralt’s arm kept him tucked to his side and his hand found Jaskier’s, lacing their fingers together. The bard sighed as he shifted just a bit more to rest his leg over Geralt’s thighs.
“Must’ve been extra cold tonight?” Geralt teased, brushing the bard’s hair out of his eyes.
Jaskier shook his head, which was more like nuzzling deeper into Geralt’s chest with the way they were laying, “Missed you.”
Geralt huffed, almost laughing, “We haven’t spent a night apart in two months.”
“I always miss you,” Jaskier spoke through a yawn as he scooted closer still.
“Hmm.” Geralt let his eyes close as he rested his free hand over the bard’s, brushing his thumb over his knuckles. A low rumble echoed in his chest as he soaked in the feeling of home these little moments brought him.
“Missed the purring too,” Jaskier whispered.
He purred louder and pressed a kiss to the top of his bard’s head.
hi!! I have a prompt, if you like: Jaskier and Geralt lying on a summer meadow watching the clouds, pointing out forms, maybe Jaskier makes up stories. And maybe a bit of bickering and fun provocation so they start to wrestle and Geralt pins Jaskier to the ground? Who knows :D I would love to read some fun and fluff <3
babe this prompt has watered my crops and blessed my harvest amen
no for real I'm so glad I saved this for today 😂 your girl has been anxious af and this was so soothing to write thank you
Warnings: fucking NONE its ALL TOOTH ROTTING FLUFF
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For once, Geralt didn’t gripe when Jaskier wanted to stop early and set up camp in a field of wildflowers. It wasn’t the most travel-savy move, but Jaskier insisted they’d be perfectly safe, he was with a big scary witcher after all.
They unpacked their things from Roach and let her wander and graze while they set up their little camp, or started to.
Jaskier tiptoed up behind Geralt and set a flower crown of globe flowers and baby’s breath atop his head before wrapping his arms around his waist, “Do we have to do this now? It’s so warm.”
Geralt frowned and took the crown off to inspect it, “Giant buttercups? Subtle.”
“Me? Never.” Jaskier giggled, brushing Geralt’s hair out of the way to place a kiss on his neck.
“Mmm, don’t I know it…” Geralt placed the ring of flowers back on his hair before turning in Jaskier’s arms to face him, cradling his face in his hands, “You want to lie down in the flowers don’t you?”
Jaskier bit his lip and nodded eagerly.
Geralt placed a kiss on the bard’s forehead, pausing to mumble a “fine” before kissing his nose. Jaskier giggled some more and led Geralt to a specific patch of wild irises before dragging him to the ground rather unceremoniously. They landed in a heap with a breathless grunt from each of them that dissolved into laughter when Jaskier tried to hook a leg around Geralt’s hips and flip him over.
“You never win, bard,” Geralt’s tone was soft and teasing as he spun around and quickly had Jaskier in a headlock.
“Mhm! But this is my favorite place to be,” the bard said wiggling his eyebrows even if Geralt couldn’t see.
“That’s not what you said yesterday…”
“Second favorite,” he corrected, turning his head to place a kiss to Geralt’s sternum. The witcher chuckled as he released him and laid back into the flowers. Jaskier situated himself so he was using Geralt’s chest as a pillow as they both laid on their backs and looked at the sky. Geralt’s hand rested at Jaskier’s hip where his thumb rubbed soothing circles. The bard raised his hand and waved his fingers, wordlessly asking for Geralt’s other hand and lacing their fingers together as soon as he was given it.
They laid there for what felt like hours, pointing out shapes in the clouds (Jaskier was particularly excited about a phallic one that Geralt insisted wasn’t all that phallic) with Jaskier softly singing love songs or goofy ballads he only sang for Geralt. When he hit gold with a line Geralt’s laughter would make his head shake which sent him into a fit of laughter himself. These funny songs never lasted long, but Jaskier would sing them the rest of his life if he could, just to hear Geralt howl with laughter.
When the sky turned pink they finally sat up, Geralt’s arm draping over Jaskier’s shoulders as the bard leaned his head on his shoulder.
“Are you hungry, Julek?”
“Mmmm, now what did I say about that nickname?” Jaskier used his teasing professor's voice that made Geralt blush under other circumstances.
“That it makes you feel far more loved and protected than any word had the right to.”
Jaskier nodded, “And that you’d best not use it if you aren’t going to follow it with kisses.”
Geralt grinned and rolled his eyes, “How could I forget?”
“I’ll forgive it this once,” Jaskier hummed, leaning his head back to give his witcher a blinding smile.
Geralt brought a hand to the bard’s jaw, just barely brushing his fingers over his cheek but holding him in place as he leaned down to press their lips together.
When he leaned back Jaskier whined but Geralt just laughed, “But are you? I’m starving.”
Jaskier sighed in false exasperation and clambered to standing, turning to offer his witcher a hand up, “Let’s eat then. But we’re picking up where we left off after dinner.”
Geralt took his hand and stood, pulling him into a breath-stealing kiss when he was upright, “Anything for you Julek.”
“Ah! The rule!” Jaskier waved one finger in the air like a wetnurse chastising a child.
Geralt kissed him again and again, all over his face until his stomach rumbled to interrupt them.
Braincell Bae? Would you be so kind as to hit me with some good ole after sex goofy cuddles? Ye ole sleepy stupid Geralt? Plz? 🥺
ohhhhh you got it, boo
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“Do the hum,” Jaskier demands, tugging at Geralt’s forearm. The Witcher raises an eyebrow and glances over at his lover. They’re both damp with sweat and laying curled beneath the inn bed’s thin linen sheet. Geralt has it laying lightly over his waist, while Jaskier has wrapped over one shoulder like a toga.
“What are you talking about?”
“You know,” the bard urged, “Your post-coital hum of gratification. You always do the hum!”
“Hmm.” Geralt obeys, making it as low and gravelly as possible to really get his appreciation across. Jaskier rolls his eyes and gently pinches his bicep.
“Rude. Now you’re playing it up for the crowd.”
“It’s a very appreciative audience,” Geralt replies. He flexes his arm under Jaskier’s hand and smirks when the bard’s heartbeat stutters rather magnificently.
“Fuck off.”
“I want to go to sleep, actually.”
“Then let us sleep, Witcher.”
“Hmm,” this time it’s genuine. Geralt tucks the bard against his side and slides his nose into the spot behind Jaskier’s ear. The soft patch of skin is the sweetest smelling square inch of Jaskier’s body and he could die happily laying just like this.
Hello! Your good vibes coming! How about a three words prompt for our lovely pirates, because I just adore them, maybe "do you promise?" Use it however you want but please give our boys some love, make it a little sweet for me. Thank you, love you!
(I can certainly work with sweet)
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“You’ll come back before the storm hits?” Jaskier asks, eyes wide and shining in the light of the setting sun. Geralt nods solemnly. His anxious little nymph worries his lip between his sharp teeth for a moment and then asks, “Do you promise?”
Geralt offers up his pinky. “I swear on my life.”
“Hmm,” the half-siren sighs, hooking the offered digit with his own. “Alright.”
---
“I didn’t know you were scared of storms,” Geralt murmurs into his sweet siren’s ear. Jaskier’s eyes are scrunched closed and he’s curled as tightly as possible against the pirate Captain. “My poor little wife.”
A flash of lightning brightens the cabin momentarily and only seconds later a thunderous boom cracks through the air. The ship sways slightly from the force of the storm but since they’re anchored safely at a sturdy dock, Geralt isn’t worried about the state of the Kaer Morhen. Jaskier, however, is terrified that the ship will splinter to pieces beneath them at any moment.
He jerks at the noise, releasing a loud whine, and Geralt wonders for a moment if it’s an instinct from his siren blood. Perhaps storms are not meant to be weathered above the surface of the water like this.
The White Wolf tucks his wife’s head beneath his chin and presses several soothing kisses there. His hands rub up and down the smaller man’s spine, pressing them together. “Shh, my love. It will be over soon. I’ll be here to protect you until it’s gone.”
“I know, it’s just loud.”
“Do you want me to sing?”
Jaskier’s breath hitches and Geralt realizes with a start that his darling wife is crying softly from fright alone. He wraps himself around the younger, smaller man like a shield and begins to hum. Jaskier presses his ear against his husband’s heart and listens to the steady beat and the rumbling tune.
“I love you,” he whispers.
Geralt pauses his humming long enough to press another soft, lingering kiss to Jaskier’s hair. Then he picks back up again, valiantly trying to block out the noise of the storm. Scared as he is, the siren smiles and cuddles closer to his Wolf.
