#thewitcherbog

My entry for one of @thewitcherbog​ ‘s fluff bingo-prompts: Stargazing Hope you enjoy! (And thanks to @sulkyshengshou​​ for beta-reading ♥)

Summary: When everything becomes too much for Geralt at a houseparty, he flees to the garden where Jaskier checks up on him. From there, things progress...

Rating: Teens and Up Length: 1.9k

You can also find it on AO3!

It was too much.

Too loud

Too many people.

All Geralt wanted was out and so he pushed his way through the crowd, maybe a little bit too forceful, but at this moment he didn’t care.

His heart was pounding in his chest, so hard and fast that it was almost matching the song that was currently blasted from multiple speakers all around the house. He knew that it had been a bad idea to come here, and his body was making him pay for it.

He finally found an exit and let out a sigh of relief as the cool night air hit his skin, his nervous system calming down almost instantly. He looked around and saw that he was standing in what looked like the host’s garden, a few lonely plastic chairs standing on the lawn. There was no one else around, everyone busy either dancing or drinking or both, and Geralt was glad for it.

He’d only agreed to go to the house party because his best friend had been begging him, making puppy eyes at him for an entire week before Geralt had finally given in, mumbling something about “I’ll come if it means that you’re finally gonna shut up.” In reality, though, Geralt would have done just about anything for that man, because he-

“There you are!” His thoughts were interrupted by a loud voice cutting through the music, though Geralt was certain that he would have recognised it even at a whisper.

“I was looking for you everywhere, you just took off!” Jaskier said, sounding slightly offended as he approached Geralt, hands pressed to his hips.

Geralt didn’t say anything and just looked away, ashamed. He felt bad because he knew how much Jaskier had been looking forward to this evening, and he had ruined it by, well, being himself.

He was about to apologize when he felt a hand on his shoulder and a concerned Jaskier asking: “Are you alright?” He sounded sincere, but Geralt knew that the truth would only make his friend feel guilty and bring their night out to an abrupt end.

Instead, he went with a white lie: “Don’t worry, just needed some air. The alcohol was starting to get to me.” He remembered his brother telling him that the perfect lie always contained a bit of truth, and he was hoping that this was enough not to make Jaskier suspicious.

Then again, Geralt was an expert in lying to Jaskier, putting on a mask in front of him every day and burying his true feelings so deep he sometimes almost forgot how much he loved the other man. It never lasted, and when it hit him again, it hit him hard, like it did right now.

Jaskier was standing in front of him, barely an arm’s length between them, pupils wide and cheeks flushed from all the beer he’d drunk during various drinking games. He was wearing a bright blue shirt that complimented his eyes perfectly and Geralt wanted nothing more than to kiss him senseless right then and there. He had had a few shots himself; he found it harder than usual to resist the urge. It was bubbling underneath the surface, threatening to overtake him if he let his guard down even once.

His thoughts were interrupted by a gentle tug on his arm.

“Hello? Earth to Geralt, you there?” Jaskier asked, his eyebrows raised and his head cocked slightly to one side.

Shit. Had he been talking to him this whole time? Worse even, had he noticed that Geralt just stared at him?

He quickly nodded, trying his hardest not to arouse suspicion, when suddenly, Jaskier’s eyes grew wide. He grabbed Geralt’s hand in his and pointed at something behind the silver-haired man with the other, shouting: “Look, Geralt!”

Wondering what the the fuck had gotten Jaskier this excited, Geralt turned around, eyes following the other man’s finger. He squinted his eyes and saw—

Nothing.

“What the fuck?” he mumbled, looking at Jaskier with a raised eyebrow. Was he fucking with him?

“I swear it was right there!” the other man insisted, before adding: “A shooting star! I saw it!”

Ah.

Geralt gave an understanding nod, pretending to understand why that had made Jaskier so excited. To Geralt, shooting stars had always been nothing more than a bunch of rocks in space, no need to make a fuss about it. But seeing Jaskier in awe almost made Geralt blush; the child-like wonder in his friend’s eyes making him look even more irresistible than he already did.

Suddenly and without warning, the hand still holding Geralt’s tugged him down, causing him to nearly land on the grass face-first.

“Jaskier, wha—” he began, but his protest was met only with a: “Shut up and lay down, we are trying to look for more shooting stars.”

There was an unusual amount of authority in Jaskier’s voice, only reserved for instances in which Geralt hadn’t done the dishes yet again and things were starting to smell.

Not wanting to anger his friend, Geralt did as he was instructed: laying flat on his back and putting one arm behind his head. Above them, the night sky was pitch black save for a few stars scattered all across. The grass was cool and slightly damp, but Geralt didn’t even notice.

All his attention was focused on the fact that Jaskier was still holding his hand, with their fingers now interlaced. The physical contact sent shivers all throughout his body and made him long for more, yearning to be closer, to touch.

 Was he dreaming?

Once more, his line of thought was interrupted by Jaskier’s voice.

“...and see this one right there? That one’s called Pegasus,” he said, pointing at what looked like a random cluster of stars to Geralt.

He was about to ask how the hell Jaskier seemed to know so much about astronomy, when all of a sudden, a small burst of light illuminated the sky, appearing in one spot and disappearing in another. Geralt let out a tiny gasp as he stared in wonder, unconsciously tightening his grip on Jaskier’s hand.

He was completely lost in the magic of the moment when a quiet “Make a wish!” tore him out of his trance and he turned to look at Jaskier laying next to him, a soft smile on the other man’s face.

Without giving it a second thought, Geralt silently wished for one thing: courage.

Courage to finally be brave enough to tell Jaskier how he felt, and courage to have the strength to handle whatever the other man’s answer would be.

Courage to just reach out and kiss him, show him all the things he had wanted to say for years.

But Geralt did none of those things. Instead he just smiled before asking: “What did you wish for?”

“Ah,” Jaskier said, turning his gaze away, back up towards the sky. “Now that I can’t tell you, else it wouldn’t come true!”

At that, Geralt raised an eyebrow, his smile changing into a soft smirk.

“Very atypical of you, to not share something with me.” Usually Jaskier told him pretty much all of his thoughts (whether Geralt wanted to hear them or not) and it was the reason Geralt was all caught up on the newest Kardashian-drama.

“I could, however…” Jaskier began apprehensively, “...tell you what I didn’t wish for.”

Geralt looked at him dumbfounded, the music hammering in the background not helping him focus at all. What was Jaskier getting at?

“I definitely didn’t wish for my best friend to kiss me,” Jaskier whispered, his voice almost swallowed by the loud bass whummering through the air. Geralt’s heartbeat was picking up again, keeping time with the beat of the music.

 Could it be…?

Jaskier was staring at Geralt, an unreadable expression on his face. He unclasped their hands —Geralt felt a sting in his heart at the loss of physical contact— then slowly, as though he was moving through water, placed it on Geralt’s cheek. Jaskier’s hand was both warmer and softer than he’d expected, his skin growing hot where the other man’s fingertips touched his face.

Time seemed to stand still as they lay there; Geralt unable to move a single muscle as not to scare Jaskier away. Yellow met blue and nearly drowned in it, the intimacy of the moment almost too much for Geralt to handle.

He swallowed, his mouth suddenly feeling very dry.

“What a coincidence.”

Each word needed Geralt to use all of his strength to get out, but if he didn’t do it now he knew that he would never get another opportunity like it.

“‘Cause I wished for the same thing.”

That was a lie and Geralt knew it, but just this once he didn’t feel bad about telling one.

He had asked for the courage to confess his feelings, and this was the closest thing to a confession he was ever going to make. He may not have said much, but to him it felt as though he had laid his soul bare, stripped of all its barriers and walls.

He was at Jaskier’s mercy, and he silently begged him to be kind.

Jaskier was still staring at him, blue eyes sparkling even though it was nighttime, and the slightest grin was creeping onto his face. It was a sight so beautiful it would have made Geralt’s knees weak if he hadn’t already been laying down, one that he swore to cherish forever no matter the outcome of this evening.

The hand on Geralt’s cheek started to move, fingers ghosting gently over his hair and finding their way to the nape of his neck where they stayed still for a moment before pulling him forward, resting his forehead against Jaskier’s. They were so close that Geralt could feel the other’s breath on his face, hot and smelling of a mixture of beer and something that could only be described as him.

Geralt didn’t know how long they stayed like that — so close yet so far apart. It could have been just a few seconds or many, many hours, but he couldn’t bear waiting any longer when he finally, desperately, gathered all his courage and pressed his lips on Jaskier’s.

His heart skipped a beat in the time it took for the other man to react, but before Geralt knew what was happening, Jaskier was kissing him back. It was slow at first —as though the other man was asking for permission— but soon the kiss was deepened, Jaskier pushing his tongue into Geralt’s mouth whilst tightly grabbing the hair on the nape of his neck.

It felt new and good and hot. Geralt could feel the heat pooling in his abdomen, his entire body screaming for more.

This wasn’t the time nor the place for it though, and so he gently pulled back from their kiss, placing his hand on Jaskier’s cheek the same way the other man had done a few minutes ago.

They were both panting, cheeks reddened and stupid grins on their faces. Jaskier’s pupils were blown so wide they seemed almost black and his lips begged to be kissed again, plumb and pink, his mouth slightly open. It was the sexiest thing Geralt had ever seen.

For once, Jaskier seemed to be at a loss for words, and Geralt, adrenaline rushing through his veins, found yet another burst of courage:

We really like bards in the bog.

Date night

My final entry for my @thewitcherbog​ ‘s fluff bingo-card: Dancing Together Hope you enjoy! (And thanks to @calamarisnapfish​ for beta-reading ♥)

Summary: For their anniversary, Jaskier tries to surprise Geralt with his cooking, but things don’t quite go as planned...

Rating: General Audiences Length: 1.1k

You can also find it on AO3!

Geralt smiled as he walked up the stairs to Jaskier’s apartment, running one hand through his hair and holding his boyfriend’s favourite white wine in the other. He had opted for a messy bun today to show off his undercut and purposefully let out a few messy strands of hair to frame his face, knowing well what it did to Jaskier.

Tonight was a special occasion: they had been dating for 6 months now, and although Geralt found it ridiculous that Jaskier wanted to celebrate that (they were no longer in high school after all), he would never say that to his face - smitten as he was, he probably would have agreed to celebrate their 6 day-anniversary.

He had proposed making a reservation at their favourite restaurant, but Jaskier had insisted on cooking, simply instructing Geralt to be there at 8 and bring wine.

There he was, about to knock on the apartment door when he registered a smell. It was sharp and smokey, but before Geralt could dwell on it, he heard yelling from inside the apartment - a long string of curses followed by “Ouch, god that hurts!”

He nearly dropped the bottle of wine and was about to kick in the apartment door when he remembered that Jaskier had given him a spare key to his place and told him to put it in his wallet, in case there “ever was an emergency”.

The uncertainty of not knowing whether Jaskier was hurt or not made Geralt’s hands shake as he retrieved his wallet from his jeans and fumbled around with it. It felt like aeons had passed when he finally discovered the key, tucked in between his debit card and a random coupon code, and he let out a sigh of relief when he finally managed to get it into the keyhole and turn it.

He pushed the apartment door open with so much force that the handle might come flying off, but he didn’t care. All that was important right now was finding Jaskier, making sure he was safe.

As he ran inside, he was met with a wall of smoke, the air slightly hazy because there was just so much of it. He heard coughing coming from the kitchen and saw Jaskier hunched over the sink, clutching his hand to his chest.

Geralt’s heart nearly dropped to his chest as he rushed over, quickly opening the window over the sink before tending to Jaskier, gently grabbing his head with his hands and alerting his boyfriend to his presence.

“Are you alright?” he asked, unable to hide the fear in his voice.

“I’m fine,” Jaskier coughed, voice sounding raw, “just burned my hand trying to get that stupid pot off the stove.”

At that, Geralt let go of Jaskier’s face and gently took the other man’s hand in his to inspect it. He may have only gone to veterinary school, but even he knew how to treat a burn. There was a bright red streak across Jaskier’s palm, probably from where he had gripped the pot’s handle, but even though it was painful right now, his boyfriend had gotten lucky—

“Don’t worry, it’s only superficial. It’ll hurt for a bit, but you’ll be fine,” Geralt reassured him, and Jaskier’s shoulders sank as he looked visibly relieved.

Geralt looked behind him and in the sink where he found a pot that contained… something. Whatever it used to be, it had been burned beyond recognition and was apparently also the source of the stench that was now filling the apartment.

“What the fuck were you doing, Jask? You told me you could cook!” Geralt asked, one eyebrow raised as he looked at his boyfriend, who suddenly had a very sheepish look on his face.

“Well, you see…” Jaskier began, avoiding Geralt’s eyes as he spoke, “I wanted to surprise you with honeycakes. Lambert told me how much you loved them as a child and even gave me Vesemir’s recipe, but I accidentally left the honey on the stove for too long and it burned.”

“Burned? You nearly set the kitchen on fire!” The words had left Geralt’s mouth before he could stop them and he regretted it as soon as he had said them.

Jaskier looked at him, clearly hurt by his comment, and pushed Geralt’s hand away, the action making Geralt feel as though he had burned his hand.

“I had it all planned out! I was going to cook your favourite meal, put on good music, get you drunk enough on wine so that you’d finally agree to watch Dirty Dancing with me…” He let out an exasperated sigh. “And now I’ve ruined it!”

A small laugh escaped Geralt, and the look on Jaskier’s face shifted from hurt to pissed.

Fuck.

Geralt had to do some damage control before this whole thing went south, and so he grabbed Jaskier by the waist and pulled him close, forcing him to look at him by putting a finger under his chin, rage clearly burning in those blue eyes.

“Nothing’s ruined. What matters is that you are alright, nothing more.”

That seemed to reassure Jaskier and Geralt felt him relax in his arms. He pressed a kiss to his boyfriend’s forehead and his heart fluttered in his chest as Jaskier nuzzled into his neck. His hair was tickling Geralt’s nose, but he didn’t mind, simply relishing the moment.

Carefully and hoping that Jaskier wouldn’t notice, he fished his phone out of his pocket and opened his music app, blindly hitting “Play” on the first song that appeared on the screen.

The sound of a guitar started filling the room, quickly followed by soft drums and finally the singer’s voice joining in, creating a lovely melange of rhythm and melody.

Jaskier had let out a gasp at the first note, and Geralt had quickly put his phone down on the counter to embrace the other man once more, pulling him even closer than before, chests flush together.

“Put your arms around my neck,” he instructed, and for once, Jaskier did as he was told without questioning it, curiosity most likely getting the better of him.

 If the sky that we look upon Should tumble and fall

It was clumsy and awkward, but in an attempt to match the rhythm of the song, Geralt started shuffling them around - with tiny steps and bumping into cabinets and the counter wherever they went, but he tried nevertheless.

 Or the mountains should crumble to the sea I won't cry, I won't cry

Jaskier didn’t say anything, just stared, seemingly lost in thought. There was a tiny smile on his face and Geralt couldn’t resist—

He pressed a kiss to Jaskier’s lips, soft and tender, a testament to what they had and continued to build on every day of their relationship.

 No, I won't shed a tear Just as long as you stand, stand by me