#heart asks

When he’s still coming down from his potions, everything is too loud, too bright, too scratchy, too bitter. Usually, Geralt pushes through that - he’s been trained to do so, as every witcher is - and sometimes the routine of cleaning his armor and swords, making sure his trophy is bundled up in oilcloth, and bandaging any injuries he may have taken - in whatever order seems best at the time - is enough that he can almost forget that the light is like daggers in his brain and his tunic feels like it weighs as much as full plate.

Or rather, that is what Geralt used to do, before Jaskier.

These days, when he gets back to camp, still black-eyed and corpse-pale, stained with the ichor of his kills, Jaskier is waiting. There’s a bucket of water beside the fire so Geralt doesn’t need to use an Igni to warm it, and clean cloths stacked next to it, and a White Honey in case even Geralt’s twice-Grassed strength is not enough to bear the potions he has had to take.

And Jaskier is waiting, setting his lute down as soon as he sees Geralt approaching and bouncing to his feet to help Geralt out of his armor, murmuring under his breath at the mess and the recalcitrant buckles but never raising his voice enough for it to hurt Geralt’s too-sensitive ears. He lets Geralt clean his armor, because Geralt is particular about it, but Jaskier has learned to stitch up a wound and to apply poultices, and it’s his clever hands that wipe the ichor and blood from Geralt’s skin with soft cloths soaked in warm water, gently enough that it doesn’t scratch at all.

And when everything has been tended, Jaskier coaxes Geralt down onto their shared bedroll, where he can rest his head on Jaskier’s chest and listen to the bard’s heartbeat and the low murmuring of Jaskier’s constant chatter - still kept almost too quiet for any but witcher ears to hear - while Jaskier strokes his hair in long, gentle passes.

The fire is still too bright, but Geralt can look away from it. Speech would still be too loud, but Geralt can focus on the steady quick beat of Jaskier’s heart, and tune out everything else. Cloth would still be too rough, but Jaskier’s skin is soft, his surprisingly abundant hair also astonishingly fluffy. Geralt has gotten into the habit of rubbing his fingers over it, just gently, and focusing on that tiny tickling sensation instead of anything else.

He loses time, like that. He has no idea how long it takes him to purge the potions from his system; how long until his eyes are yellow once again, his skin a slightly less unnatural white. But however long it takes, Jaskier is there holding him, ever-moving hands steady on Geralt’s hair and shoulders, ever-babbling tongue made softer for Geralt’s sake.

Is it any wonder, then, that when Geralt feels like the world is bearable again, the first thing that he does is push himself up just far enough to kiss those singing lips?

Thank you lovely!!!

💚 true love's kiss / magic kiss / healed

Eddie was exhausted. He had never felt more tired in his life. He had spent his morning doing physical therapy to help relearn how to move his body post-spring break from hell. Wayne had tried to get him lunch but Eddie refused. The pain was unbearable. He also missed his friends and his boyfriend in specific. Steve and he had been dating since 1985 and it showed in the care they showed each other. But Steve had been helping the Mayfield's because Max and Sue had been struggling. He had moved into their trailer to help out. But while they were now neighbors, Eddie rarely saw him.

He missed Steve like crazy. It felt even worse when he was in pain. He desperately wanted to see Steve, just a glimpse would be fine. He allowed Wayne to help him get into his room and onto his bed but then he let himself curl into a tight ball, feeling the frustration and tears fill his eyes. When had he become such a little baby? It was fine, Steve still loved him and it would be ok. He'd see him soon. He was sure of that, he could always go to the Mayfield's trailer.

Wayne watched his son in all but name cry himself to sleep and felt his heart break. He slipped out of the room and called the Mayfield's, hoping Steve was there. He'd hate for Eddie to be hurting all alone when he could help.

An hour later, Eddie woke up. He was wrapped in something cozily warm, and there was a steady heartbeat in his ear. He cuddled in deeper, curling into the warmth..

Wait WARM???

Eddie jolted awake, his bed had been empty when he had gone to sleep. So who was in his bed?

He looked down and his heart beat slowed. His Steve was staring up at him, expression warm and soft.

"Hi Eds. I didn't mean to wake you. But I missed you." his voice was low and warm.

Eddie's breath caught in his throat and tears started to spill down his cheeks, "hi I missed you too. I wasn't expecting to see you."

Steve gave him a devastating smile, "baby if you missed all you needed to do was call me. I will always come when you call."

Eddie buried himself into Steve's arms and buried his face into Steve's shoulder. Steve cupped the back of his neck and called his name softly.

Eddie lifted his face and looked at him. Steve pressed a kiss to his lips, and everything, the pain, the exhaustion went away.

Steve was here. He was all right, his sunshine was here, holding him.

Newest thing I’ve hardcore shipped?? Recently- Probably Bombateazer

OVER YOUR SHOULDER! OVER YOUR SHOULDER!

Justice for Over Your Shoulder

Both Spencer and Jasper declined a glass of wine, opting for the same sparkling grape juice the kids had. Jasper was happy to help feed Michael, who at two didn't like to eat on his own. Spencer kept staring at her, and finally she waved a fork his way. "What is up with you?" Spencer blushed, red and blotchy, sheepishly smiling at her, "You look good with a baby in your lap." Jasper flushed deep, eyeing Michael and his little blonde curls for a moment. She turned back to Spencer and whispered, "You know that might not happen for us, right?" Spencer nodded, but his happiness didn't wane, "You look just as good with a pitbull on your lap."

He loves her so much 🥹

If you want I'd love for you to give me a shorthand so you know when it's me ♡ whenever I come back to ask permission again ♡