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One: The tavern girls
It is, of course, just a product of Jaskier’s bard tendencies that he commands the eyes and hearts of everyone in a room when he walks in. And truly who can blame them. Jaskier can play everything from blushing virgin to confident and seductive depending on the audience, and by the end of the night he has them all hooked, line, and sinker.
But when the shows over, Geralt would very much appreciate it if they all just fucked off.
Whatever backwoods town Jaskier had cajoled him into staying in so he could drum up some new coin definitely did not get the message of letting Jaskier go after he’s done singing. He plays them two encores, and then finally announces to the remarkably drunk crowd that he would be done for the night. The way they whine for him to keep going sets Geralt’s teeth on edge, especially two of the serving girls who had all but given up on their job to sit at the table nearest to him and stare up at him with big eyes.
“Come on Jaskier,” the brunette purrs to him, “won’t you come play one song for us alone.”
“Ladie, ladies. My music is but for an audience. It needs more than two pairs of ears to be appreciated.”
They giggle at that line, but don’t let up on him. They’re getting more pushy as the night wanes and people clear out.
“Well maybe you could teach us,” the blond tells him, batting her long eyelashes.
“Ahhh, but it’s getting late, my teaching prowess rises with the sun,” Jaskier says, laughing with them.
It makes Geralt nearly growl. Jaskier is always friendly in each town— more than friendly in fact. He says it’s to make up for Geralt’s gruff exterior, but it seems to be more intentional this time.
Jaskier seems to like these girls. Likes the way they twirl their hair and act all faux demure. They’re pretty too. And bold. And laugh so loudly like Jaskier does.
“You’re going to break that fucking cup you know,” a voice cuts through Geralt’s brooding. “And I fucking like that cup.”
Geralt reluctantly tears his eyes away from the performance Jaskier and the tavern girls are putting on up at the front of the tavern and turns towards the source of the sound.
The barkeep apparently has been keeping an eye on Geralt, as most do, and is looking pointedly at the cup Geralt had been unconsciously clenching in his hand.
“Mmm,” Geralt grunts dismissively.
The barkeep very obviously looks between Geralt’s harsh frown and the trio he’s been staring at. He cocks an eyebrow at Geralt and waggles it. It’s a bold move for someone to do to the Witcher, and Geralt does not like what that eyebrow is accusing him of. As the silence stretches between them, Geralt refuses to break it.
It’s the barkeep though, who keeps up this very courageous streak of speaking out of turn to an angry Witcher and says, “seems to me like you could get a lot more done if you went up and talked to the bard instead of sitting at my bar and breaking my good glass.”
“This is your good glass?”
“It could be. For this hypothetical it is.”
“Hmm,” Geralt grunts again. He looks away from the barkeep back to Jaskier who’s now sitting in between the two girls, an arm around both their shoulders. He watches the way they smirk and leer at each other and look so comfortable in the way they lean into one another. It’s a beat before Geralt realizes that he is actually growling low in his throat.
He drags his eyes away from then and cuts the sound off completely. He throws money down at the bar.
“You’re really leaving?” The barkeep asks.
“Of course I'm leaving. He’s just a fucking bard who’s attached himself to me.”
The man actually looks aghast at this, and then sighs and shakes his head, and goes back to washing dishes. As Geralt leaves he can hear the barkeep talking to someone else, and he says, “I didn’t even know Witchers could be jealous.” It makes them laugh, which almost sends Geralt running back in to straighten some people out. But that would be crazy, and he has no reason to be angry at something that isn’t true.
An hour or so later, Jaskier finally waltzes into the room they're renting. He smells like cheap perfume and beer, but he doesn’t smell like sex. As he listens to Jaskier rustle around getting ready for bed, Geralt is able to finally fall asleep feeling oddly relieved.
Two: The princess
Balls always make Geralt overwhelmed. There’s so much noise from the mind numbing chatter and the music and so many smells that make Geralt’s stomach roll nauseatingly. Jaskier has also somehow talked Geralt into wearing one of those fancy bejeweled doublets again, so with everything else going on he also has to deal with a scratchy collar and tight sleeves.
In other words, he’s miserable.
And to cap it off, Geralt hasn’t seen Jaskier in ages. Jaskier had played a few songs for the king and queen early on in the night as payment for their lodging, but since then, he has disappeared into the crowd. Geralt can’t even begin to imagine what type of shenanigans an unsupervised bard could be getting up to.
Geralt finally spots him on the dance floor. He has a crowd of girls that are vying to be his next dance partner, and Jaskier very gallantly makes sure to give them all a turn. One of them though keeps coming back for more.
She’s stunning. Red hair like cascading ripples of fire, and a dark green dress that her chest is nearly falling out of. Everyone in the room is captivated by her, but she seems to only have eyes for Jaskier, much to the ire of the man who Geralt assumes is her husband by the way he’s staring at Jaskier like he wants to throttle him barehanded.
Geralt understands. He feels that same twisted anger for some reason as he watches the gorgeous pair cut a large swath through the dance floor. For one ridiculous moment, Geralt wonders what would happen if he stormed down there and grabbed Jaskier out of her clutches and danced with him instead. Danced where everyone could see them, and know that the bard was fucking his.
That’s crazy though. Geralt quickly shakes himself out of that fantasy.
At the start of their next song together, Geralt has to leave. He removes himself to the back corner where some knights are talking about various monster attacks, and tries to pay attention to possible jobs. Their outright uneasiness with an eavesdropping Witcher is so much more welcome than whatever had been going on on that ballroom floor.
Three: The princess’ husbands
Of course though, Jaskier can’t help with just getting into trouble with the wives at a ball, he quite talentedly also gets the husbands involved. Geralt is trying to drown whatever feeling this is that is creeping up through his gut with heady, dark wine when he hears an angry shout from off to the side of the room. He follows it of course, and prays to god it’s a deadly monster that he can fight for some distraction.
He slips into the hall off the side of the ballroom that he heard the noise from, and in the dim light, spots Jaskier and the man he assumed was the husband of that red head Jaskier had been so friendly with earlier this night.
Geralt is resigned to running in there and putting a stop to Jaskier getting his head beat in, when Jaskier stands up on his tiptoes to whisper in the man’s ear.
He melts into Jaskier then, and the previous anger flows out of him. Maybe not a husband then. Maybe just another poor sucker caught in Jaskier’s tide. Instead of rearing back to hit Jaskier like Geralt had initially thought, the man instead very carefully brings his hands up to caress Jaskier’s jaw. It looks so tender. It looks like they’ve done this before.
That angry beast that coils in Geralt’s gut rears its ugly head at that thought, and before he’s even consciously aware of what he’s doing, Geralt marches up to the two of them, and rips that slimy man away from Jaskier by his collar.
He hits the ground absolutely furious with being interrupted, and immediately scrambles to his feet. But, when he comes face to face with a Witcher’s burning yellow eyes, that anger quickly becomes fear.
“Sorry,” he mumbles looking away from Geralt, and then quickly beats a hasty retreat.
Geralt tracks his stumbling run with a satisfied grin. The beast in him purrs happy and content. And then a hand reaches up to slap Geralt hard on the back of his head.
“What the fuck was that about?” Jaskier asks, aghast and angry.
“I thought he was trouble,” Geralt lies smoothly.
“I can’t even begin to believe that’s true Geralt. You’re not an idiot and I know you saw us.” Jaskier is getting huffy now. He has his arms crossed and is damn near pouting up at Geralt.
“It’s what I saw,” Geralt doubles down on his lie.
“Nope!” Jaskier says petulantly with a false smile.
Geralt growls at that. Suddenly annoyed with this song and dance the two of them have going.
“Well you shouldn’t run off with girls and then expect me to know when their angry husbands are or aren’t trouble.”
“Or you could just let me handle myself, Geralt. That wasn’t even her fucking husband! Let me have one good night without you glaring and growling at anyone who tries to talk to me!”
“You can’t handle yourself.”
“Oh well fuck you too Geralt. I’m gonna go find him again. You know if I can’t fucking handle myself I guess I should let him handle me instead.”
“No!” Geralt nearly yells, pinning Jaskier back against the wall to stop him from leaving. “He can’t put his fucking hands on you. You're mine.”
Geralt didn’t mean to say that, and it leaves both the men in stunned silence. Jaskier for a moment looks to be in shock and awe, and then his face shutters closed.
“You don’t get to fucking say that to me,” he hisses. “Unless you want to officially say something to me instead of brooding in the corner and staring me down you have no right to dictate what I do with my body.”
He shoves Geralt’s hands off of him which have now gone lax. As he walks away Jaskier turns back to say, “you can’t fucking have me both ways Geralt. I’m either yours or theirs and you’ve never told me you wanted me.”
Geralt stays standing in that empty hallway for a while after Jaskier leaves him. He’s angry and sad and scared and fucking lonely. When he finally makes his way slowly back into his room, Jaskier is nowhere to be found.
The next morning, Jaskier finds him just as he is readying Roach. He looks disheveled and like he hasn’t slept all night. He smells like sex and that fucking man in the hall from last night, and it makes Geralt clench his jaw together so hard it feels like his teeth are going to shatter.
At the first opportunity, he makes both of them bathe in a stream, and watches while Jaskier scrubs himself raw.
Four: Eskel and Lambert
Geralt’s going to kill Eskel for real this time.
Honestly he’s going to kill him. He’s doing this on purpose.
When Jaskier and Geralt had run into Lambert and Eskel, it seemed natural to spend a few days together catching up. And because of the easy camaraderie, Geralt had not thought twice about Eskel asking if he could teacher Jaskier some self defense.
Now Geralt finds himself sharpening his knives, staring daggers at Eskel who has Jaskier tucked up against him, back to front, and his hands wrapped around his wrists to show him how to land and defend a punch.
It shouldn't be sexual what they’re doing, but Geralt knows Eskel. Knows how much of a flirt he is and how he’s always trying to get under Geralt’s skin. He’s fucking doing it on purpose.
Eskel looks up to lock eyes with Geralt as he knocks Jaskier’s legs wider to put him in a better fighting stance. It even is making Jaskier blush now, but he doesn’t pull away. He doesn’t fucking pull away.
Lambert for his part is just snickering at them. At the duo and at Geralt’s plight.
“Maybe,” Lambert whispers to Geralt who can’t take his eyes off of Eskel in case he gets a little too handsy, “Maybe you should just tell your boy that you think about absolutely murdering anyone who even looks at him because you’re a possessive bastard when you’re in love.”
“I’m not fucking in love,” Geralt grunts.
“Oh Geralt. You make me sad sometimes,” Lambert says faux wistfully. He’s not actually sad for Geralt, he’s being a mocking prick.
“Fuck off Lambert.”
“So touchy. I just think that if you weren’t in love with him he wouldn’t be sitting with you after years of traveling together and playing with your brothers.”
Geralt grunts.
“You might be in denial Geralt, but everyone knows. I know, Eskel knows, and you’re little flower might know too.
Jaskier then looks up at Geralt. He’s flushed and happy from play fighting with Eskel, and it makes Geralt want to scream. Or break Eskel’s neck.
“Come on Geralt! Come join us!” Jaskier says happily.
It’s so nice to see the bard smile. They’d had awful weather for weeks and it’s been tough on Jaskier even if he would never really complain. Sure he might play up being prissy over little things, but when it gets truly terrible, when they’re really suffering, Jaskier muscles through almost as well as Geralt does. He loves that about his bard. So soft and so tough. It makes Geralt just want to wrap him up in his arms and never let him go.
“He deserves to hear that you love him,” Lambert tells him, actually serious for once.
Geralt turns to him and takes in Lambert’s stiff shoulders and determined eyes. Geralt isn’t the only Witcher Jaskier has won over, they all feel a little protective of him. Geralt nods. Jaskier does deserve that. He needs to tell him soon.
Geralt then gets up to join Jaskier and puts Eskel into the fucking ground just to make a point. It makes Jaskier laugh and laugh at Eskel’s sad face smashed into the mud, and Geralt feels so warm and content at the sound, like he’s just finished eating a whole bowl of stew and is full and happy.
When they fall asleep later that night, Geralt and Jaskier are facing each other, and he spends too long looking at Jaskier’s high cheekbones and delicate eyelash lit up in the moonlight. He’s beautiful.
“I can feel you looking at me,” Jaskier murmurs with his eyes still closed.
“Sorry,” Geralt says quickly and rolls over, flustered at being caught.
“It’s all right. I don’t mind Geralt.”
When Geralt cautions a peak back Jaskier is looking at him with such a sweet little smile. “It’s ok Geralt,” he says softly to him.
“Hmm,” Geralt grunts non committedly
They’re quiet again, and then Jaskier gets up and makes his way over to hesitantly tuck himself into Geralt’s bed roll. Geralt lays board stiff as he’s doing it, too afraid to move and spook Jaskier away. But once Jaskier has carefully pulled the blankets back over both of them he curls up against Geralt’s chest. It’s so fucking nice.
Geralt brings his arms up gently to hold Jaskier into him, and Jaskier sighs with relief. “It’s ok,” he whispers again.
Geralt falls asleep quickly that night, warmer than he’s ever been in his life.
Five: an ex boyfriend
Since that night, Jaskier and Geralt have been odd. But a good odd. They don’t verbally talk about it, but when night falls and they head to sleep Jaskier silently crawls into Geralt’s bed roll. When they stop in towns and Jaskier sings for crowds, he doesn’t entertain the women and men who simper and act so sly to him. There are no more off stage encores from Jaskier anymore; he comes up to Geralt’s room instead.
Geralt just wishes that maybe, maybe they could do a little more than sleep together. Not that sleeping together is bad or anything, Geralt’s just going out of his mind staring at Jaskier’s mouth and hands and legs and ass and fuck.
One night though, Geralt is out late in the stables in some small town tending to Roach after a hard fight when he hears a noise. Someone sounds scared. As Geralt trains his ears towards the sound he’s surprised to realize it’s Jaskier. Jaskier who sounds frightened and talking quickly to someone Geralt doesn’t recognize.
He barely restrains himself from sprinting towards the sound, but does move fast to reach his bard.
He surprises the two people talking. A man Geralt does not know has Jaskier pinned up against the wall of the tavern outside and is hissing angrily in his ear. Jaskier writhes in his arms trying to get away, but can’t break the grip the man has on his wrists. The scene makes the beast in Geralt roar in fury.
He tackles the man off Jaskier, and slams his head into the ground. He’s readying another hit when he feels hands on his arm trying to pull him off the poor asshole.
“Geralt!” Jaskier’s yelling, and it breaks Geralt out of his blinding red rage. He turns to look at him.
“Geralt get off of him, he's an ex boyfriend!” Jaskier yells again. He finally is able to pull Geralt off the guy who takes off at a dead sprint when he’s released.
“He shouldn’t touch you,” Geralt can’t help but growl as Jaskier.
“Yes, yes, I know that you possessive fucking ass!”
“Why was he touching you?”
“He wanted a post break up fuck Geralt and I told him no. I said no because I’m already taken by some fucking asshole over protective Witcher!”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah Geralt jesus. I’ve been yours for ages now if you took your head out of your fucking ass for once and saw that instead of getting all worked up over everyone else who so much as looks at me you would know that!”
That declaration from Jaskier is music to Geralt’s ears.
“You’re mine,” Geralt says in awe.
“I’m yours,” Jaskier confirms.
And Geralt can’t stop himself from saying, “I love you,” because he does. Has loved him for years and will love him for years to come.
Jaskier almost collapsed when he hears that. “I love you too you bastard,” he says, eyes squeezed shut and a hand over his heart.
Geralt stands up at that and physically picks up Jaskier who yelps. He shoves him back into the wall and kisses Jaskier for all he’s worth. Jaskier responds back just as enthusiastically.
“Fucking finally,” Jaskier pants into Geralt’s mouth, “been waiting for you to do that forever.”
Geralt hums and pulls back off the wall, his pupils blown out black with desperate arousal. “Let’s go to the room.”
Jaskier moans happily.
One: Yennefer
Geralt at this point in his life feels like he owes Yennefer, so when she asks for help, Geralt goes. This is the first time though that Jaskier is with him when he visits her since they’ve cemented their relationship.
Geralt doesn’t really think much about that fact until he notices that Yennefer and Jaskier do not talk at all. Like at all. Like anytime Yennefer comes into a room with Jaskier he suddenly has a million things to do that take him out of the room.
It’s strange.
When he brings it up to Yennefer she just laughs at him. All she says to him when he presses the matter is, “you two are a perfect fucking match.”
It’s only when they have dinner all together and Jaskier spends it glaring at Yennefer that he realizes that Jaskier is angry. Not just angry, fucking furious, and he can’t tear his eyes away from Geralt’s hand that Yennefer had covered while leaning in to talk to him.
Later, when they’re a few drinks in, Yennefer swings an arm around Geralt’s shoulders , and Jaskier finally snaps and storms out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him. Geralt can’t do anything but stare helplessly and surprised at his retreating back.
At that display, Yennefer immediately drops her arm and the drunk routine. “You should go get him,” she says teasingly. “Angry sex is the best sex.”
Geralt just grunts at her, but he does hurry after Jaskier.
When he finds Jaskier in their room angrily getting ready for bed he catches him around the waist and tumbles them both in bed.
“You’re jealous,” he announces to Jaskier.
“Fuck off Geralt, you’re one to talk.”
“I can’t believe you’re jealous!”
“Of course I am! Yennefer’s stunning and strong and a perfect match for you Geralt of course I’m jealous.”
Geralt laughs at that which makes Jaskier even madder. He starts shoving at Geralt’s chest to get up, but Geralt stays where he is.
“You have nothing to be jealous of,” he tells Jaskier seriously, nosing at Jaskier’s hair. “I have no eyes but for you darling.”
All the fight leaves Jaskier at that declaration and he sinks into the bed and Jaskier’s arms.
“Good. You better fucking not be wandering Geralt or I’ll kill you myself.”
Geralt grins stupidly at that. It’s nice to know that as much as Jaskier is his, he’s Jaskier’s too; two fucking jealous assholes just made for each other.