#i think they fucked like twice when jaskier was in his early 20s

[eileensdress]

I think its SO funny that twn is currently playing the “Jaskier and Geralt have always been platonic” card because twn is the same show that has always HEAVILY implied they fucked at least once

[mrobrotzly]

✨ 𝙞 𝙬𝙞𝙨𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙬𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙗𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡 𝙩𝙤𝙤 ✨

rating: E 🔞

principal tags: fake/pretend relationship, first kiss, miscommunication, porn w/ feelings, anal fingering and sex, rimming, feelings realization, love confessions

. . .

"This is a terrible idea." Geralt watched the bard pacing the room, folding one of his doublet and placing it gently on a chair.

Geralt had just come out of the bath, Jaskier had helped him with his hair and with the mud and monster's guts that were stuck to his back.

"Geralt" he said in the soft voice he always used whenever he was trying to convince the Witcher to do something "You said yourself that you don't like being seen as my bodyguard, that's the best solution."

Geralt raised his eyebrows, sitting on the side of the bed they shared, still shirtless, Jaskier stood in front of him, posing.

"We are going to a city that respects traditions and my 'bad idea' will keep me out of trouble and you'll have a lovely evening with good food and wine, I can guarantee" he gestured with his hand as he spoke "Come on, Geralt, I can't let the last bard that city has seen be Valdo Marx, no one deserves so much suffering.”

Geralt murmured, a little amused.

"So, you want me to tell everyone that we're together?" he asked, tilting his head slightly to the side.

"Well... Yes." he shrugged “As I said, traditions. If they think I'm married, they won't lay a finger on me.”

The witcher narrowed his eyes.

"That doesn't make sense" he said.

The bard sighed.

“They think marriage is sacred so you can't even seduce or hurt someone who has a bond like that with someone else” He sat next to Geralt, trying to fake a guilty face “I kind of did both. Twice. Once with the same person.”

Geralt raised an eyebrow, questioning.

"Listen, he deserved that punch, okay" Jaskier said a little more sharply than usual, he always did that when he felt accused of something and Geralt felt the corner of his mouth lifting up slightly.

The bard clapped his hands together.

"So" he smiled "Are you going to help me or not?"

Geralt sighed, Jaskier knew well that the answer was yes, there were few things that didn't go exactly the way the bard wanted and none of them included Geralt not giving in to his requests.

Even more since their meeting after the dragon hunt, the Witcher still felt that the apology he gave wasn't enough and that Jaskier deserves better.

"Okay," Geralt finally said, seeing the troubadour's smile widen. "But if I have to fight anyone, you'll wash our clothes for a month."

Jaskier snorts.

"As if I didn't already do that, my dear."

It was Geralt's turn to smile wryly.

"Including the ones I use after a hunt."

The bard's smile turned into a grimace, he hated the sensation of dried blood - and sometimes shit - while rubbing the cloths with his hands.

"We have a deal, Witcher" he started wearing the blue jacket of one of his doublets, the lute now in hand. "We leave tomorrow" was all he said before leaving the room and going down the stairs to entertain an audience.

Geralt enjoyed the silence for a few seconds, thinking about the information that Jaskier gave him earlier:

They were going to a festival, one that would have a musical competition, Jaskier learned about it a week ago when he met a colleague from Oxenfurt in a tavern and since then Geralt has been preparing for the myriad reasons why the bard would try to convince him to travel to the city.

There were good reasons, he had to admit, good food, wine, the competition prize was three times what the Witcher would made with a contract - and he had no doubt that Jaskier would win.

Obviously it was to be expected that the minstrel would have an interesting past with the people there - “like he has in every damn city” Geralt thought and suppressed a grunt, repeating in his mind that Jaskier's sex life had nothing to do with him - and usually that meant some headaches while having to constantly keep an eye on him and save the bard from furious cuckholds.

It was a plausible idea, he admitted, pretending that the two were together - they had been traveling for so long and some people already thought that - yet the idea made the Witcher feel a little restless, but whatever the reason, he would bury that feeling as he did with all the others.

Especially when it came to Jaskier.

He got out of bed, put on a shirt and left the room, maybe that strange nervousness that he refused to name was just hunger.

They really left early - which was a surprise, because Jaskier never woke up this early without complaining for an hour about it.

"I'm thinking of playing a new ballad, you know the one I made after the fight with the basilisk?" he was walking a little ahead of Geralt and Roach "It's a masterpiece, Geralt, obviously, after all I wrote it, but I'd like to hear your opinion, of course."

"What happened to the humble bard?"

"Nobody can be humble for 20 years, Geralt."

And without waiting for an answer, not that he was going to have one, Jaskier started singing, occasionally stopping to hear a feedback and complaining about Geralt's lack of words.

They arrived in the city when it was already dark, the competition would take place the next day before sunset, but the festival would start at noon.

"It's all about union, bard" the inkeeper said when Jaskier asked what was the reason for the celebration "They say it's the perfect time to declare love to your beloved one, I myself proposed to my wife at one of these festivals."

And then she started to tell her life story and Geralt stopped listening, going straight to the bedroom.

Jaskier came in immediately, laughing.

"Obviously it's about love!" he said lying on the bed on his back. “There is no other thing that people love more than well... love. I have to change some songs on my set” He sat down, searching through his bag and taking out one of his notebook.

"Do you have many songs about love?" Geralt asked, somewhat surprised to be curious about this.

The bard shook his head.

"I have a lot of songs about heartbreak" he corrected "Which may not be the best thing to play considering it's a festival about union."

Jaskier took the pen and the ink glass, quickly scratching something on the paper while murmuring to himself.

"Okay, have to be something about requited love, ugh, I don't have much about it" Geralt frowned, why not? he thought.

Okay, it was sure that Jaskier fell in love easily and fell out love just as easily, but why wouldn't he sing about the requited loves he once had? He sings about everything he experiences.

Was this something the bard never had?

Did Jaskier never felt loved?

The idea made something turn over in Geralt's stomach as if he's sick and, without realizing, he grimaced.

"Why that face?" the troubadour asked, drawing the Witcher's attention “What's in your head?”

Jaskier made a worried expression and all the time he did that Geralt felt he didn't deserve it.

"Hunger" he lied, it's easier to explain "I'll get dinner."

"Right" he replied, but didn't seem entirely convinced by the answer.

Geralt stood and was on the way to the door when he heard Jaskier calling him, amusement in his voice.

"Remember" he laughed "We're married now, so behave."

The Witcher was unable to contain his smirk.

"I'm not the one who flirts with everything that walks" he said before leaving, closing the door.

This time he had to wake Jaskier up, pushing his shoulder slightly and listening to the bard grumble.

"I need my beauty sleep, Geralt, how do you think I look so young and beautiful?"

Geralt huffs, as close to a laugh as he allowed himself.

"You're the one who insisted about seeing the festival before the competition" he sat on the side of the bed, putting on his boots "And it's almost noon. You already slept too much."

Jaskier stood up still mumbling something about Witchers and their lack of consideration.

"If I had no consideration I'd let you come alone and probably be killed by a bunch of cuckholds" the reply made Jaskier let out a little surprised yelp and then mutter "obviously he can hear me why the fuck I keep forgetting that" and Geralt felt the corner of his mouth lifting up.

"Well..." the bard was looking inside his bags for something to wear "Good to know you care."

He smirks and Geralt loved it when he made that expression, as if whatever would be the following argument, he knew he'd already been the winner.

And he was usually right about that.

“Don’t flattered yourself, I’m doing it for the coin” and it made Jaskier laugh, so Geralt felt strangely proud of himself.

The festival wasn't so far from the inn, near the entrance to the forest, a field all decorated with colorful flowers, blue, yellow, purple, with wooden benches next to the merchant's cart and barrels of wine. Right in the center was a large wooden arch wrapped in red tulips and, further west, a small stage where the competition would take place.

But, of course, too many people and Geralt would be uncomfortable if it weren't for the delightful smile that Jaskier kept on his face as he looked around and greeted some passing people.

He felt an arm around his and, for a second, tensed, until he remembered that he and Jaskier were pretending to be a couple.

"A flower for your love?" A young girl stopped in front of them, with a basket full of cornflowers.

"The color of his eyes" Geralt thought as he watched Jaskier take out a coin and hand to the girl, thanking and taking the flower.

The bard looked at the Witcher and by the smile he gave, Geralt shouldn't have been surprised by what came next.

Jaskier ran his fingers through his white hair, pulled it out of the way and placed the flower behind Geralt's ear.

The witcher narrowed his eyes, growling low.

"Oh, hush" the troubadour said before returning to wrap his arms around Geralt's "This way you'll look more friendly."

"I already left my swords in the inn, that's my friendly look" they walked around the festival, searching for a vacant seat "And it's ridiculous."

Jaskier chuckled, not hiding his amusement.

“Stop sulking, it's just a flower” Geralt glares to him, but as usual Jaskier didn't care.

They sat down and the bard went after wine and some pieces of bread and cheese for both of them.

“Look, Geralt, they have strawberries” Jaskier pointed to the fruit between his fingers “Unfortunately the price is not very kind, but they're giving one to the couples for free. Well, they're probably charging more than they should for the rest of the fruit to make up for it, but no one needs to know” he brought the strawberry to the Witcher's face “Here. Eat.”

Geralt looked at the fruit, then at the bard; he knew the taste, he'd eaten it a long time ago, but decided that Jaskier didn't need to know that.

He bit the fruit, but only half, partly not to bring his lips too close to the bard's fingers and partly to leave a piece for him.

"Good" was all he said and Jaskier smiled beautifully before eating the other half.

The wine came soon after, Jaskier stole a few sips from his tankard, refusing to take one for himself.

"I have to stay sober, Geralt, take away the bitter memory that Valdo Marx must have left in this poor city."

"How do you know he was here?" he asked, again pulling his tankward out of the bard's hand reach.

“Oh, my colleague, the one we found in that tavern, told me about it, it seems that Valdo Marx made a sonnet for a baron and played here at the festival last year, obviously it wasn't a competition, he needs to be pampering by a nobleman or noblewoman, he wouldn't survive a day in the hard work of being a bard out of merit and talent!”

Geralt rolled his eyes more fondly than annoyed.

"I intend to crush the memory of him and all the bards that came before, Geralt, this city will be singing praises to Master Bard Jaskier for decades."

"Humble bard." Geralt murmured and Jaskier smirks.

"Be grateful, part of the coin will be yours" he patted the Witcher on the shoulder and left to make some friends around the festival.

At no time did Geralt lose sight of Jaskier, he told himself it was in case the troubadour got in trouble and not because every time someone recognized him his smile seemed to shine or because he looked even more beautiful surrounded by colorful flowers that matched the color of his eyes or because the doublet he was wearing was tighter around his ass...

Geralt swallowed, taking another sip of wine and looking away. And at that moment he saw: a tall man, a little bald, broad, and with strong arms - probably from working as a blacksmith - and a very furious expression that Geralt knew well.

"Was taking too long..." he thought and got up from the wood bench, reaching Jaskier at the same moment the man pulled the bard strongly by the forearm, forcing the troubador to look at him.

"I'm sorry, gentleman, but I really need my arm," Jaskier said trying to break free.

“You son of a bi-” he was interrupted by a rough and deep “What's going on here?”

The man narrowed his eyes at the Witcher and Geralt remembered that he still had the flower behind his ear.

(continue to read on AO3)

[servicebottomgeralt]

@fangi2 AAA it still wont let me tag you lmao but!! you wanted jaskier being noisy and geralt Doing Something About It. i somehow completely missed the bed sharing part of your request and i am so sorry rip But ,

let me know if you have an ao3 and i can gift it to you on there too!!

Ao3 link

Jaskier makes enough noise when he's awake that it feels like some cruel, sick joke from the universe that he's almost as loud asleep, too. He'll hum and mumble to himself until he drifts off, then it's all soft sleeping sighs and nonsense conversations.

Geralt has considered waking him up, just to force silence upon him for a moment, but he never deems it worth the inevitable bitching that'd follow. I was perfectly comfortable, Geralt, he'd say. Stuff cotton in your ears if you can't tune me out.

Yes, as though he'd cut off his better-than-human hearing while they're alone in the woods just because every layer of Jaskier's consciousness has to be a fucking racket.

The one exception is when Geralt times things just right — leaves to gather wood while Jaskier is just settling into his bedroll, and is almost back when Jaskier's hand slips past his waistband.

Geralt stays far enough away that Jaskier can't see him but Geralt can still hear him. Jaskier makes soft sighs that quickly become frantic, panting breath, bitten into his hand to keep from being too loud, and those are the nights Geralt lives for.

Jaskier passes out as he comes down, satisfied moans melting into steady breathing, and, miraculously, there's not a peep out of him until morning.

It's a good system for a month or two, until Jaskier finds out exactly how far a Witcher can hear clearly, and either realizes he's definitey been caught every time or assumes he's been careful enough. Either way, it's come to Jaskier trying to make excuses for why he needs to lie down early, or why Geralt should go, stay up a little longer, maybe meet some nice peasant lady to spend the night with. He's not feeling well, or he'd like to catch up on sleep, and every time, Geralt shrugs and follows him to whatever room they're renting or settles in whatever temporary wilderness camp they've made themselves.

Part of it is that he doesn't trust Jaskier to be alone; he's gaining a reputation as being the bard that travels with the Butcher of Blaviken, the White Wolf, and contrary to his lyrics, he's never won a fistfight in his life.

The other part of it is that, for reasons he can't quite identify, he's come to enjoy the sound of Jaskier getting himself off before bed.

Tonight, Jaskier says he's going to sleep now so he'll wake up early and be able to practice a new song before they hit the road again, don't wait up, and Geralt nods and stands from their table at the tavern as well.

Jaskier's casual smile falters for a near-imperceptible moment, but he doesn't protest.

Geralt walks in first, and Jaskier hovers in the doorway behind him.

"You know, I — I think I might go for a walk, actually," Jaskier lies. "Why don't you go ahead and settle in?"

"It's dangerous after sundown," Geralt hums. "I'll go with you."

"No," Jaskier says too fast, and Geralt quirks his eyebrow up at him, and then Jaskier is groaning defeatedly into his hands. "Geralt, I — look, I just need a little privacy for a bit."

"Is something wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," Jaskier sighs. "I don't know how Witchers work, okay, maybe it's not a concern for you, but I... I need some alone time."

Geralt stares blankly as though he's not sure what Jaskier means.

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"Geralt, I need a wank," Jaskier finally admits, loud enough more than just the witcher has heard it, surely.

Gerat smirks so wide it's cruel.

"I mean — Gods, why'd you let me be that loud?"

Jaskier brings the door closed behind himself and sighs, running a hand through his hair.

"Look, could you just... Stay downstairs? For, like, 20 minutes?"

Geralt sits on his bed instead, feeling bold from Jaskier apparently being desperate enough to inform half the town.

"Do you think that'd be far enough for me not to hear you?" Geralt asks curiously. "Do you know the average earshot of a Witcher?"

Jaskier begins to redden, and doesn't stop.

"That's not my problem," Jaskier denies, "you don't have to listen."

"Don't I? If I hear your heartbeat pick up, shouldn't I listen to make sure you're not being kidnapped or killed?"

"You can hear my heartbeat?" Jaskier yelps. "Why hasn't that come up?"

Geralt shrugs; it just hadn't, and it's not like he's willing to divulge every secret to the man that sings about him for a living.

"I — okay, so, what, you're the Guardian of Wanking, then? If you smell me thinking about rubbing one out you'll come slap my knob out of my hands?"

Geralt barks out a laugh at that, the image of himself angrily stopping Jaskier from getting himself off by smacking his dick away from himself, and it's so amusing that the words kind of tumble out of his mouth.

"I wouldn't stop you," Geralt corrects. "It’s very —"

Wait.

No.

What was he about to say?

"It’s 'very' what?" Jaskier asks suspiciously.

Very loud, he could say, but that wouldn't make sense. He listens to Jaskier because he likes to, it's interesting and Geralt finds a small amount of pleasure in imagining Jaskier's face twisting with every little noise. It’s ‘very’ nice

"Have you listened to me?" Jaskier asks, with a completely different flavor of suspicion in his voice.

"On accident."

"On purpose," Jaskier corrects. "You've eavesdropped on me touching myself."

It's not a question. Jaskier knows it, somehow, and suddenly Geralt feels much less like a teasing friend and much more like a trapped lover.

When did Jaskier get the upper ground here?

"Once or twice," Geralt finally admits.

"And?" Jaskier asks, stepping closer.

"'And' what?"

Jaskier is close enough that his heartbeat rings in Geralt's ears, thundering so loudly it's almost the only thing he can hear. Jaskier is all he can see, all he can smell, the day's sweat and the light, flowery scent of the oils he slicks into his hair in the morning.

"Did you like listening?" he asks. His words are purposely low, purposely a barely-there whisper. "Did you hover and make excuses to yourself for why you wanted to listen to your bard stroke himself off?"

Jaskier is smiling broadly now, hovering over Geralt like it's where he's meant to be; Geralt is meant to be sitting on the bed, with Jaskier standing between his knees and leaning so Geralt has to look just slightly up to meet his eyes, and Geralt has never felt so pleasantly threatened in his life.

"It's better than your singing voice," Geralt mumbles, and that's what finally brings Jaskier down that last titch between them.

As Jaskier spreads Geralt out over the bed, kisses him a little too roughly and a little too eagerly, Geralt wonders when he'd gotten so fond of such an obnoxious man. He wonders why he didn’t notice sooner, but Jaskier busies himself with getting under Geralt’s shirt and it doesn’t really matter.

Jaskier smells like flowers and infatuation, and Geralt is more than happy to breathe it in.