A little bit of Geraskier smooching? Perhaps yearning glances are involved? Perhaps a Witcher blushes?? 👉🏻👈🏻
oh hello nonie! we have blushing and glances and tooth-rotting fluff as a special tonight. listen I'm working on a hella moody whump but this called my name
Warnings: geralt is stupid. kisses.
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“Yes, but what does it mean?” Geralt leaned over the table conspiratorially, glancing at Jaskier where he sat on a stool, strumming his lute and serenading the tavern with a soft love song.
Lambert rolled his eyes, “If you can’t figure that out on your own, you don’t deserve to know.” he sighed, chugging the last half of his ale.
“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“Geralt,” the younger witcher tented his fingers exactly like Vessimir did when he was explaining something painfully simple that was just out of their grasp (usually Lambert’s grasp), “you catch him staring, yes? He blushes? Turns away? And you still don’t get it?”
Geralt’s eyebrows couldn’t get closer together if he tried, his golden eyes searching Lambert’s face for any more clues, “But he’s always done that.”
Jaskier finished his song and passed around his hat one last time before making his way to their table.
Lambert looked like he was in physical pain as he got up, “You ponder that while I get us some more piss water.”
“Ponder what?” Jaskier asked, plopping down next to Geralt with a glowing grin.
Geralt felt something twist behind his sternum as he took in those sparkling blue eyes and the bright red patches on the bard’s cheeks, “I’m not sure…”
Jaskier tilted his head, his smile faltering for a fraction of a second before he dumped his coin hat on the table and started counting. Geralt watched him, more concerned with why his chest was aching than Lambert’s conundrum. He realized a while ago that it wasn’t annoyance, not after he’d spent the winter with his brothers and remembered what it really was to be constantly pestered. He’d ruled out fear and awe, though he thought he was pretty close with that one. Maybe an admiration of talent?
Jaskier glanced up at him and he immediately tried to look like he was searching for Lambert in the crowd, but he couldn’t cover the heat burning behind his cheeks. He thought he saw the bard smile out of the corner of his eye but he wasn’t going to risk a glance to check.
Oh…
Lambert set three drinks on the table and grinned when he took in Geralt’s expression, “Lads, I hate to leave you alone, but the barmaid was asking about my scars and I think I just might show her. If you’ll excuse me.”
Jaskier whistled after him but Geralt just stared at the mug of ale in his hand.
That feeling was love. Adoration. A fondness that mingled with a burning need to protect and threatened to suffocate him as soon as he’d given it a name.
“Geralt?” Jaskier nudged him, swiping the coins off the table and into his purse, “You alright there?”
“Pondering.” He was, in fact, panicking.
“Darling, you look like you’re about to be sick.” Jaskier laid a hand on his cheek and frowned, “I can never tell if you’re running a fever. You’re always so warm.”
Geralt shoved back from the table and practically ran from the room, “Need some air.” was his half-assed excuse and he wasn’t even sure Jaskier had heard it.
Darling.
Geralt stumbled outside and ducked into an alley, pressing his back to the bricks and running his hands through his hair. This was… a lot. And he could hear Jaskier hot on his heels.
“Hey, what’s going on?” Jaskier’s fingers barely stroked his forearm but the sensation sent fire up his arm.
Geralt found his mouth moving without the permission of his mind, “Why do you blush?”
“Pardon? Maybe you do have a fever.”
“When I catch you staring. Why do you blush?” Geralt let his head drop back against the bricks and closed his eyes, his words releasing a little bit of the pressure in his chest.
When the silence had stretched too long he rolled his head to the side just enough to see Jaskier staring at him in horror. Not the horror he was used to, no this was far more vulnerable and debilitating than how other people looked at him and he couldn’t stand it.
“Please, Jaskier. I have- just tell me. This aching in my chest is unbearable and I can’t say it first.”
Jaskier swallowed hard, narrowing his eyes almost imperceptibly, “I blush because I’ve been caught,” he breathed, “and because I love you.”
Geralt winced, that hadn’t made the pressure better at all. He turned and pulled the bard flush to him with one arm around his waist while his other hand rested at the corner of his jaw, “No one’s ever made me blush. And you…” Geralt took a deep breath and desperately tried to find the words but Jaskier’s hands resting on his hips and anxious eyes boring into his were too distracting, “Can I kiss you?”
The worry melted from the bard’s expression, “Oh, please.”
As their lips touched the pressure in Geralt’s chest finally dissipated, leaving only a warmth like he’d never known. He thought he might collapse with how fast his head was spinning and pulled Jaskier around with him as he leaned back against the wall again, not breaking the kiss until he realized he hadn’t breathed for far too long.
He pulled back gasping softly as he watched his bard. Jaskier’s eyes were still closed and a soft smile danced on his lips.
“You should ponder more often.” he teased.
Geralt let out an amused huff of air, and gently brushed their lips together, “I’d rather be busy.”
hey, so, I guess I accidentally deleted your ask somehow @dmsilvisart bc I can't find it in my inbox but I know I saw it, so here are your headcanons! (I got a bit carried away and am now really wanting to write a Destiel roommates fic ugh)
• Cas had actually been one of Sam's friends while in high school (despite being closer to Dean in age), so Dean knew him pretty well. When Cas came to the college that Dean was also attending, he ended up moving in with the older Winchester, since his scholarship didn't include rooming and Dean had been looking for a roommate to split rent with anyway.
• At first it was a little weird because they'd never really hung out without Sam there, and since they were now living together, they were finding out about each other' little quirks, like how Dean had everything very organized except for his school stuff, which would be scattered in various places around the apartment, or how Cas liked to wake up early to go for a run in the morning even though he was probably the grumpiest person Dean had ever met when it was earlier then 8 AM. Eventually though, they got used to each other and settled in together comfortably.
• Though Dean would be content to just eat take-out every night, once Cas pointed out that it was not only unhealthy but also could really add up, he started to cook and actually got really into it. So, whenever he's not working and is home in time, Cas always insist he makes dinner. (They have a deal where Dean cooks and Cas will do all the dishes afterwards, though Dean usually ends up helping dry and put the dishes away anyway so he has something else to do besides watch TV)
• They start dating when Dean is in his fourth (and last) year of college and Cas is in his third, after they had been living together for three years. Before they got together, though, everyone just kind of assumed they were dating, since it was obvious they were into each other.
• They had been living in the same crappy apartment until Dean graduated, and even though it had quite a bit of problems, it was their home. So, it was a little difficult to pack everything up and move to a nicer place shortly after Dean had graduated. They settled in there pretty quickly though, since they still had all of their old stuff (and yeah, maybe Dean thought that the cheesy stuff about 'home is where the heart is' is true, not that he'd ever admit it.
• The place they moved to though definitely ends up being perfect for them, as it had two extra rooms, one for a guest room (Sam would stay with them sometimes, when the other guy in his dorm got too annoying) and the became Cas' studio, since he liked to paint on the side, and it had a cool balcony that was a bit small but still big enough for Cas to buy some potted plants like he'd wanted. Since it was bigger than their last apartment, it fit all their stuff without looking cluttered. There were a bunch of other little things about it that they both loved as well, like how it was within walking distance of their favorite bar or how their bedroom had a cool window seat.
• Oh, and though he'd tell it differently, Dean was asked out by Cas, not the other way around. It had been kind of random, and they had both been maybe a little drunk and watching some dumb scary movie and were maybe kinda cuddling just a little. Cas had paused the movie and gave some short speech about how he'd 'been thinking a lot and yeah maybe it wouldn't be a good idea because our friendship is great but also maybe it'd be a great idea for us to go out. we'd be pretty good boyfriends, i think. what do you think, dean? would you wanna be my boyfriend?' they might've been a bit drunk and tired, but both remembered that moment with prefect clarity, and Dean liked to tease Cas about how he had rambled a bit before getting to the point
AEOTOH is gonna be written TODAY if it kills me. And the next chapter of Black Sheep is ready to write as well. SYW is still circling my brain... sorry I haven't gotten it out yet 😩
Fic Idea: Geralt being very self conscious about literally all of the inhuman traits he has (he probably has even more than most Witchers because of the extra trials) and trying to hide them entirely or just make them less obvious when Jaskier starts traveling with him, probably angsting whenever Jaskier notices, and some nice h/c from Jaskier ( + feral bard ready to stab all the humans who made Geralt feel like that and/or horny bard with a broken brain bc “oh no hes getting hotter”)
so I did this from Geralt’s pov bc honestly I was just feeling the angst today? Its the first day of classes and a bitch was overwhelmed so here. we. go.
also I couldn't get that face out of my head from the betrothal episode where he’s watching the chaos before the fight breaks out and he looks like a confused puppy?! y’all know the one? god its so cute.
Waringins: none
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Geralt had always managed to stay far away from the average human. They always cringed and drew back at his slightly off appearance, until Jaskier started following him.
It started with his teeth. On the rare occasion he gave in and smiled at the bard’s jokes he noticed Jaskier staring at his teeth. They weren't fangs per se, but he had pronounced canines before the trials, now they were rather obvious.
Jaskier made to say something, paused, then changed the subject. Geralt ran his tongue over his teeth and feigned attention for the next few minutes of the bard's story. He spent the night trying to decide if Jaskier was scared or disgusted by him.
When Jaskier insisted on brushing twigs out of Geralt’s hair after a contract rather early on Geralt felt a panic he wasn't sure what to do with. He’d already accepted that he needed the bard, though whether for personal or professional reasons he hadn’t made up his mind, and he didn't want him running when he realized Geralt was more wolf than expected. His hair was coarse and unruly, another side effect of the trials, but Jaskier hummed in content as he ran his fingers through it.
“It’s softer than it looks.” he murmured.
Geralt only grunted, surprised but still not entirely at ease.
Months down the line they were having to haggle over the fee an alderman owed and Geralt growled. Not a human growl, no. He was tired and covered in blood and, frankly, really fucking angry and he’d let an animalistic growl leap out of his chest. He could smell the fear in the air and made sure to avoid Jaskier’s eyes. He couldn’t bear to see the disgust reflected at him. They got 100 orins above asking price though.
When they reunited after the winter Geralt was far more careful. Less smiling, kept his hair neat so Jaskier wasn’t inclined to fix it, even made sure to rest better so he didn’t slip up again.
Of course his plans went to shit after a week. He’d taken quite the beating from a bruxa before killing it and Jaskier had insisted he lay down while the bard skinned and cooked their dinner.
While it roasted Jaskier laid down next to Geralt, brushing the hair out of a cut to begin with, but when Geralt leaned into the gentle touch he ran his hands through his hair. Half asleep, Geralt thought maybe this was a bad idea, he'd managed to keep up his civilized human act for a few days now, but it just felt so nice. Jaskier continued his gentle strokes for a few minutes, nudging Geralt closer to sleep despite the hunger eating at his stomach. When the bard finally pulled away to check their dinner Geralt gave a high pitched whine, not unlike a puppy.
Jaskier froze, "Did you…"
Geralt cleared his throat, gingerly sitting up to lean against a log and grumbling, "No."
"Yes, you… Geralt that was cute." Jaskier was squatting next to him, fussing with his bandaged arm to busy his hands.
Geralt was too tired to control his facial expressions, completely baffled by his words he turned to him, "I'm an animal and you think it's cute?"
Jaskier sighed, abandoning the bandages and resting his elbows on his knees, giving Geralt an exasperated look, "You are not an animal. I, for one, am quite drawn to your differences."
"You mean the fangs and fur for hair?" Geralt didn't believe him for a second and he made it clear with his tone.
"Your teeth don't scare me in the slightest." He heaved a sigh as he stood to take the rabbit off the fire, "In fact I think they suit you well."
"Suit me?"
"Yes. Adds to the total attractiveness you have going on." Jaskier handed a rabbit leg to Geralt as if their conversation was completely normal, as if Geralt's heart wasn't about to beat out of his chest.
He realized he was staring, probably oogling up at the bard but he was too lost to care, "And the growling like a dog…?"
"Mm!-" Jaskier spoke around a mouthful, waving his free hand as if conducting an orchestra, "-That was rather hot."
"What!?" The panic in Geralt's chest was slowly disapating until Jaskier's words transformed it into something else entirely.
"Oh please! Don't act so surprised," Jaskier was snickering now, looking down at Geralt with an amused bewilderment, "You've fallen into many a bed since we first met, how do you not know?"
Geralt picked at the hare, more self conscious than ever, "I just… most of them think it will be a story for the tavern, the, uh, 'thrill of the other'. A challenge."
"Yeah. Idiot. I too would be telling everyone about bedding the hot witcher who saved the townsfolk." Jaskier rolled his eyes as he sat on the ground next to Geralt, "Not to be untoward-"
"You always are." Geralt teased.
"-It's more fun- what I'm trying to say is, I find all of you appealing. Your little wolfy bits and habits and the quintessential humanness of you as well. You are not an animal, Geralt, and you don't deserve the way scared little weasels treat you."
Geralt was silent for a moment, chewing at some gristle stuck in his teeth as an excuse to think.
Jaskier lowered his voice, a hint of nerves on his tongue, "I know you're realigning how you view yourself up in there but I did just do a little confessing and it would be nice if you said something. Anything."
Geralt tilted his head, looking at the bard from under a furrowed brow, "You're attracted… to me?"
Jaskier nodded, now the one to look away, "When you say it so plainly…"
"Hmm." The panic from before was entirely replaced by a terrifying warmth spreading through Geralt's chest. This idiot of a human who had seen him at his worst wanted him for him. In 80 years the closest he'd come to this kind of feeling was the bond with his horses.
He couldn't put words to it, not in a million years, so instead he shuffled closer to the bard and rested his head on his shoulder. Jaskier placed a hand on his knee and he let out a deep rumbly sigh of content.
They finished their meal in silence, more than enough words passed between them for the night.
Hello, sweetheart! I have a prompt for you ❤️ Geralt has chronic pains since the mutations. Sometimes he can't get up, because everything hurts so much. Sometimes he does not eat for days (weeks...), because he cannot go out hunting. As the years have passed, he has managed to mask the pain on his face. Nobody needs to know. His brothers have already looked for a cure, but the potions only ease the pain for a few hours. +
+ When Jaskier started following the witcher on the path, whenever the pain became unbearable, Geralt told him that he had picked up a contract. A contract that would perhaps take days. And then he went into the forest as far away as possible, so that no one would be able to hear his cries of pain.+
+Jaskier knew he was lying. But he just didn't know what he was lying about. Until one day, tired of this situation (he's his best friend, for God's sake!), Jaskier decides to go after Geralt and find out what's going on. You can change anything you want ❤️
BAAAAAAABBBBEEEE
listen I lived the chronic pain life for a while and if someone would have just told me to shut the fuck up and confront the problem things would have been WAY easier lmao
Warnings: Lots of swearing. ye ole self-depreciation. chronic pain.
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His back had ached for the last six decades; this sort of twisting torment was nothing new. His second round of trials had induced horrible spasms and, according to Vessimir, Geralt had broken the restraints usually used for young witchers and damn near writhed off the table before the sorcerers had restrained him. He hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in sixty years because of it.
Eskel and Lambert had sourced out different potions and spells over the years, sometimes putting him under Axi just so he can sleep despite his body, but with the extra mutations came heightened adaptability. If he took any potion too frequently it stopped working, used any spell too often it would barely touch him. While this made his job much easier, and much safer, he was in a never-ending nightmare of shooting and radiating stabbing pain emanating from various points in his spine. It was worse than any stab wound or monster bite he’d ever endured on the bad days, a dull throb on the good days.
Traveling with Jaskier was surprisingly helpful in this aspect. He made it easier to get rooms with real beds and didn’t care that Geralt’s limbs draped over him in the only comfortable sleeping position he could find most nights. He insisted on getting Geralt hot baths he would never be offered on his own and once blackmailed someone into letting Geralt into a sauna. Of course, Geralt had never told him, there was no point, but having an advocate when he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, defend himself was nice.
However, as with most things in Geralt’s life, things eventually went to shit. A fall off a two-story roof chasing a vampire the week before had depleted the few potions Eskel had scrounged up for him last they spoke and, bed or no bed, there was no way Geralt could stay with the bard and pretend he was fine. The longer he tried the more explosive his behavior, and well that wasn’t fair was it?
He had gotten up early, before the pain had time to settle in the pit of his stomach and make him nauseous, to head off to the foothills. Giving Jaskier a lie about a contract a town over and meeting up later, he headed to collect Roach and disappear.
Mounting was a miserable affair, even with a hay bail to help him up. His leg nearly gave out from what felt like one of Yennefer’s electric shocks running the length of the limb before he had the bulk of his weight over the saddle. But once he was on, he was relatively fine. Not trotting fine, but comfortable enough to go at a steady pace out of town without groaning or screwing up his face in agony. It wouldn’t do to scare the townsfolk if he wanted to come back and collect his bard.
He let Roach meander as far as she wanted off the road running parallel to a stream, letting her choose where they’d be camping for the night once they were far enough from civilization.
He hated doing this, letting his guard down and in the wilderness no less, but he was holding himself upright on the pommel by the time Roach found a sandy bank next to the stream. He practically fell out of the saddle, unbuckling the girth and giving its bulk just enough of a tug to let it fall off the mare’s back. Even the little effort put into untacking was agony, but he needed his bedroll off the saddle and Roach needed a break. He collected the wood he would need for a fire before he let himself rest, knowing that as soon as he stopped moving the muscles would tighten and cramp up, making it impossible to move until morning.
He was peeling his shirt off ever so gingerly when he heard a twig snap. Dropping the garment back over his shoulders he gingerly turned to peer into the woods in the sound’s direction. If something or someone came upon him now he was at their mercy unless he could muster enough energy for a sign.
“A contract, huh?” Jaskier stepped out of the treeline with his arms crossed and a surprisingly parental look of disappointment on his face.
Geralt relaxed a little, plastering the mask of calm on his face as he got back to tugging his shirt over his head, “You followed me?”
Jaskier deflated, dropping his bag and lute next to Roach’s tack as he moved to help Geralt out of his clothes, “I knew you were hiding something from me, but this? Geralt? How long have you been injured?”
The witcher laughed, wincing at the dull ache through his entire torso from the previous effort of keeping himself in the saddle, “Half a century? Give or take.”
“What?” Jaskier sounded offended, why was he offended?
Geralt just grunted, clenching his jaw to keep from yelling as he stood and waded into the stream of snowmelt. All the air left his lungs when he lowered himself into the freezing water, but as it lapped over his back and sometimes even his shoulders he felt a small bit of relief. Being able to lean back a bit and be supported by the current was almost intoxicating after all his muscles had nearly turned to stone over the course of the week.
Jaskier was now standing at the bank with his arms crossed and a look of fury on his face, “I’m your best fucking friend- don’t look at me like that we’re using the ‘f’ word today- and you tried to hide a debilitating long-term injury? Geralt what the fuck?”
“I didn’t want to bother you.” Geralt huffed, doing his best not to get angry. He hurt and he was vulnerable and Jaskier was using the ‘f’ word and getting his hopes up.
“Oh shove it up your arse. You make everything else my problem, why not this?” Jaskier was on the verge of yelling and Geralt still couldn’t figure out why.
Geralt stared forward in silence, calmly noting his hands shaking from the cold, or maybe it was the pain, he didn’t really know.
Jaskier swore and turned to rummage through their things, arranging and rearranging things as he waited for Geralt to get out.
However, Geralt didn’t want to get out. He wanted to be left alone to be miserable in peace. He wanted to have one fucking day where he didn’t have shooting pain running through most of his body. Long ago he’d given up hope of a day free of pain, now he just wished for an aching sensation rather than this bullshit. He also found he was liking the water. It wasn't as cold as it first was and his breath was coming easier.
Jaskier rolled up his trousers and waded out to the middle of the stream where he sat, “C’mon Geralt, you can’t stay here all night. You’ll die.”
Geralt frowned up at him, “I like it in here. Hurts less.”
“Dumb Fuck, you’re turning blue. Out. Now.” Jaskier held a hand out and Geralt found raising his arm was nearly impossible. He got it about halfway to the bard’s palm before he stalled out, shaking and staring at his hand in horror.
“I- Jask I can’t-”
Jaskier sighed, “You’re damn near hypothermic, here.” He reached down and hauled the witcher out of the stream, ignoring his grunts of pain as he walked him back to the fire he’d started. Jaskier went about stripping his soaked pants off, toweling him off with his old shirt, and redressing him all while glaring at him. Jaskier made him sip some boiled water before he bundled the both of them in one bedroll, wrapping himself around the still shivering witcher as completely as possible.
“Th-thank you.” Geralt gasped as Jaskier angrily shoved his arm beneath Geralt’s lower back, the warmth alone was lovely but something about the way his spine laid over the extra bulk was even better.
“You’re welcome.” Jaskier growled, head tucked into Geralt’s chest, “I’m still furious with you. It’s been over a decade and you didn’t think to tell me?”
Geralt swallowed back tears as he felt some of the tension ease in his back, “No one else really cares…”
Jaskier tilted his chin up to look at the witcher like he was sprouting a horn out of his forehead, “The fuck do you think I’m doing here? You think I enjoy being run out of towns and almost dying every other day? Shit, Geralt, you’re smart but sometimes you’re fucking thick.”
If it wouldn’t have hurt Geralt would have playfully smacked his shoulder, but moving any part of his body was a risk at the moment, “Thought you liked the adventure.”
“No, dumbass. I care about you. A lot.” Jaskier settled his head back down over Geralt’s chest, “In the morning I’m taking you to a healer. Or a sorcerer or mage or anyone who will give us answers.”
“Julek…”
“Shut the fuck up and sleep. Cute nicknames won’t get you out of this one. I’m still furious.”
Since you asked 'It will come back' by our Hozi boi (i feel like this is a creature Jask vine hardcore)
Y’all plz listen to this song if you haven't heard it its so fucking good and i fux with it hard. I see your creature Jask and raise you canon Geralt.
As a fellow touch starved idiot like Geralt I just couldn’t resist. This got LONG, much longer than I thought and I have lost all objectivity. I hope you like it! 😂
Warnings: Hella self loathing, mainly just big time moodiness, we got swearing as always in my fics lol
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Geralt couldn’t say he was surprised when the bard fell into the seat across from him in Posada, annoyed but not surprised. With his pristine clothes and expensive shoes he looked like a noble’s son on a rebellious streak or a mission to ‘find himself’, so it was part of the script for him to approach Geralt. He was different, dangerous, a new shiny toy that would be cast aside rather quickly.
But he stayed. Not only did he stay, but he was also kind and jovial, even protective at times. Geralt was surprised by this, of course, but it was clear the young man wasn’t aware what he said had any effect on the witcher. Jaskier must not have been taught, Geralt concluded, that witchers were abominations. The bard couldn’t know his small smiles and stupid jokes were wrapping the witcher around his little finger. He didn’t understand what he was doing, surely.
Geralt began insisting on roughing it more often. There was a week, about four months in, where he thought Jaskier had finally had enough of him. Good, he’d thought, he can leave before he becomes a weakness. But he had been careful not to put into words ‘before he becomes my weakness.’
When Jaskier stormed off into the woods and came back a few minutes later with an angry gleam in his eyes but forgiveness on his tongue Geralt was stunned.
When those eyes softened in… pity? sadness? understanding? Geralt was terrified. In that moment he was sure he would rather endure another round of trials than lose this stupid little human.
So he did the only thing he knew how. He withdrew and drew a wide circle around himself that he did his best to keep the bard out of. He snapped at him, critiqued his songs, drove him near the breaking point of human exhaustion, but this human wouldn’t leave. And his persistence wore him down occasionally.
There were nights he leaned into Jaskier’s warmth. When he was too tired to fight and the bard’s words were sweet as honey they would talk. He told stories from Kaer Morhen that none but his brothers knew, told Jaskier how he got all his scars, told him about his first heartbreak. It felt too good. Too comfortable. He began to fight it less and less, finding he enjoyed letting go of this particular shield around the bard.
Then Jaskier hugged him, and he hugged back.
Every bone in Geralt’s body was screaming. His arms were warm and comforting, almost bringing tears to his eyes as Geralt failed to pull away. His body was begging for more, to be held and treated gently, but his mind was in a fog of panic.
Geralt couldn’t let it happen again.
He wracked his brain trying to think of ways to get Jaskier to leave and stay gone, if not for his own safety then for Geralt’s sanity. He realized with a mix of horror and confusion that he’d become inexplicably attached to Jaskier.
Geralt felt a bitterness creep in over the next few months.
There was no way the bard didn’t know the effect he had on him. Geralt was helpless. He couldn’t tell him no, couldn’t sleep without him near, couldn’t think about anything but him when their hands brushed or their knees knocked beneath a table. He wasn’t bitter because of the bard’s hold on him, no, he was bitter because he knew as soon as he gave in and let himself fall into Jaskier like he wanted to he would never be able to climb back to the surface.
He already noticed how he’d changed. He was more patient, more self-assured, better able to understand the way a husband might lash out over his missing wife. It irked Geralt to admit it, but the bard had chipped away at a small section of his armor and made him soft again; almost vulnerable.
The bitterness turned into a possessiveness he’d never experienced and, frankly, it scared him. Geralt began to miss him when he wasn’t near, felt a kind of desperation when the bard wouldn’t look at him that made him want to pull his hair out.
Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. They were laying out their bedrolls near the fire and Jaskier winked at him, fucking winked.
“What are you playing at?” he demanded, throwing his bedroll at their pile of packs.
“Oh calm down, you big brute. It was a joke. Or are you too old for those?”
Geralt tried to answer but found he was unable. The torrent of emotions swirling in his chest wanted out and he was choking on them, anchored to the spot. He just stood and stared at Jaskier as he went about his business for a moment longer.
“What, Geralt?”
“You can’t keep doing this to me…” his words barely left his mouth but he regretted them as if he’d shouted from the mountain tops.
Jaskier’s face was unreadable, “What is it that I’m doing to you?”
Geralt grit his teeth and clenched his fists. The problem was he had no idea what the bard was doing to him.
“If you’re going to leave, or resent me… just go now. I can’t take it. You’re perfectly capable of finding a nice wife to fill your father’s castle once he’s gone. Stop wasting your time on me and… and making me…”
Jaskier stepped closer, a frown creating a new line between his brows, “Making you what, Geralt?” his tone was almost impatient, but there was an edge of something Geralt dare not identify.
The witcher could barely breathe, he just stared into the fire to his right and screwed up his face in shame. He couldn’t say it. He’d probably never be able to say it.
Then Jaskier’s fingers were trailing down his forearm and gently grasping his ring and pinky fingers as he whispered, “If you need time, take it. I’m not going anywhere.”
Geralt’s chest tightened and he snarled before he could think of stopping himself, “For fuck’s sake, don’t be kind to me.”
Jaskier tilted his head, still not letting go of Geralt’s hand, “Why wouldn’t I be kind to you?”
“Because I don’t know what to do with it!” Geralt felt as if he were tumbling off a cliff even though he was staring at his feet firmly planted on the ground, “If I accept your… your.. Whatever this is and you leave I’ll be broken. Please, for the love of Melitelle, just go so I can breathe. You don’t know what it is you’re offering when you say these things.”
“I don’t want to go anywhere.” Jaskier insisted, not budging an inch.
Geralt found he wasn’t strong enough to pull his hand from the bards grasp, not even to make an attempt, “You know better than to hold me like this…”
“Clearly I don’t.” Jaskier argued, that edge of frustration in his voice coming back, “Why is this so fucking hard for you? I’ve seen you bed men, tell me it’s not just me that’s so abhorrent to you.”
“You can’t afford to be tied to me like that… and I can’t afford to lose you…” Geralt whispered, doing his best to shove the tears back down his throat.
“I believe what I deem worth paying is up to me,” Jaskier tilted his chin up, looking directly into his eyes with such a tenderness that Geralt’s knees almost gave out, “Stop pushing me away.”
Their faces were terrifyingly close, so close Gealt could feel the bard’s breath on his neck as he tried to steady the shaking of his hands, “I want to…” he breathed, “...if I-”
Jaskier didn’t give him time to finish. He sealed his lips to his witcher’s and pulled him as close as he could. Geralt felt his heart twist in his chest, painfully so, like he would burst as soon as Jaskier pulled away.
To his surprise, when they parted, he didn’t keel over dead.
Jaskier brought his other hand up to rest against Geralt’s jaw, “I have every intention of keeping you. Forever.”
Geralt groaned in defeat, leaning his forehead against the bard’s, “Good. You’ll never get rid of me now.”
I wish I could draw worth a shit bc I wanna draw grungy Geralt so bad but alas, I cannot draw hands or consistent faces...
Warnings: none! other than swearing but like its me... yall should know by now 😘
ITS TIME FOR THE DATE
__________
Geralt showed up to Jaskier's apartment in a dark, emerald green Henley and a black denim jacket with… was that a Blue Oyster Cult patch? Jaskier had to bite his cheek to keep from all-out swooning.
He locked the door behind him as he joined Geralt in the hallway, "I suddenly feel a bit underdressed."
Geralt cocked his head to the side, flashing a smile that could kill a weaker man, "You look great. Don't know what you're talking about."
Oh my gods, he's a puppy.
Jaskier's cheeks heated up as he shoved his hands in the pockets of his mom jeans (dad jeans?), "Th-thank you."
“Anytime.” He stepped to the side and offered his arm like a regency romance character and Jaskier looped his arm around his elbow, leaning a little closer than he usually would but Geralt just smelled so good.
“So where are we going? Or is it a surprise?” he asked as they slid into Geralt’s truck. It was old but well cared for, the type where you could flip the console up and have one long bench as the front seat. Jaskier made a note about that for later depending on how the night went.
“Well my sister told me to be mysterious, so I’ll keep it a surprise.” Geralt revved the engine and they headed toward the freeway.
Their conversation was easy, all the ‘where’s your family from’ type questions were out of the way by the time they got to the restaurant. And oh, Jask thought he might be in heaven. At first glance, Hunter’s Pizza was nothing special but its back porch was hanging over the river, and even from the parking lot, Jask could see a huge pizza oven in the center of the restaurant. They were seated outside next to a heater, far away from the 13-top of housewives having a birthday party, thank gods.
Once they’d ordered, Geralt leaned back with his fingers laced behind his head, somehow making his shining white hair even messier, “So what was on that note? Or am I allowed to know?”
Jaskier pinched his thigh under the table to distract himself from those arms and fucking answer, “Oh just, Essie. She likes to meddle.” Geralt raised an eyebrow but Jaskier leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand and hoping his shirt fell open like he wanted it to, “How were the ponies this morning?”
Geralt mimicked him, leaning forward on both his elbows like he was going to tell Jaskier the secret to life, “Ponies are the devil incarnate, but the horses were fine.”
“But they’re so small and cute! How can ponies be evil?” Jaskier didn’t really care at all about ponies, but that goofy smile Geralt had going on was heavenly.
He spent the next ten minutes listening in complete rapture to why ponies were horrible little monsters and he could listen to hours more. Geralt really did look like a puppy, especially when he was excited about something. He also blew his hair out of his face a minimum of three times before he would run his hands through it, something Jaskier was very much looking forward to at this point. The best part was the hand talking, all sorts of waving and miming and...
Oh shit, I’m staring.
Jaskier pulled himself back to reality as Geralt ended his rant, “...never met a pony I or any horse liked.”
“You trust your horses with that? To make character judgments?”
Geralt smiled and nodded, “You should come by sometime.”
“That’s a test isn’t it?” Jaskier didn’t manage to put as much of a joking lilt into the words as he’d wanted to and thought about jumping into the river.
But Geralt just winked at him as their server set down their pizza and plates, “I’m confident you’d pass.”
Sonofabitch.
-
Geralt flipped the console up on their way home and Jaskier’s heart skipped a beat as he slid across the bench, leaning into Geralt’s side with one of those giant arms draped over his shoulders. He flipped through a box of CDs, teasing Geralt about getting with the times before popping in Weezer and leaning his head against Geralt’s shoulder.
It was well past the time he should sleep for an opening shift the next morning when they got back to his apartment but Jaskier found himself wishing he had the balls to invite Geralt in. They walked arm in arm back to his door, climbing the stairs slowly, neither of them really wanting to go home.
When they got to his door Jaskier turned to face Geralt, planning on saying ‘thanks for the bite’ or something else noncommittal but Geralt was looking at him like he was a summer sunset and the words died on his tongue.
Geralt’s hand trailed down his harm to his hand, hooking their pinkies together, “I had a great time tonight.”
Jaskier bit his lip and hooked their other hands together in the same way, “Me too,” he batted his eyelashes and internally swore at his body for blushing.
“Hmmm…” Geralt inched forward, the sound coming out almost predatory and sending a thrill down Jaskier’s spine.
“If I didn’t know better Mr. Bellegarde,” Jaskier breathed, tugging at Geralt’s pinkies to get him even a fraction of an inch closer, “I’d say you wanted to kiss me.”
Geralt’s voice came out just above a whisper, all gravely and sexy as hell, “And if I did?”
Fuck me. This boy is going to kill me.
“I’d encourage it.”
The kiss was everything JAskier had wanted and more. Soft but firm, warm and electric. Geralt dropped Jaskier’s hands and held him flush to his body by the hips, making Jaskier’s head spin.
When they eventually parted Jaskier felt like he was floating.
He didn’t even realize Geralt was ten steps down the hall when he called back to him, “See you in class?”
“Mhmm!” the squeak was embarrassing but it wasn’t entirely fair of Geralt to expect him to be coherent after a first kiss like that.
