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Witcher Blushes

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Geralt was not particularly prone to blushing. He was no sweet, innocent young maid, was in fact about as far from that as you could possibly get. And yet there was just something about Jaskier that seemed to have him perpetually on the edge of a blush. Perhaps it was the bard’s honestly and earnestness. Perhaps it was how genuine he was. Geralt wasn’t sure. All he knew was that the bard got responses out of him that no one else could.

The first time was shortly after they had begun travelling together (or if you asked Geralt shortly after the annoying bard had decided to follow him around). Jaskier had still been asleep in his bedroll and Geralt had been shaking him awake. The bard had blinked bleary blue up eyes up at him, bleary blue-eyes that had lit up when they landed on his face. Geralt had gruffly told him to get his lazy ass up already and wandered away to busy himself with Roach, unsure how to deal with someone being genuinely happy to wake to the sight of him. Jaskier had of course just laughed and teased him about being a grump in the mornings.

The second time Jaskier had clearly had a bit too much to drink. The bard was stumbling over his words, his feet, and even thin air. Geralt would like to say he found it utterly annoying, but sadly he actually thought it was kind of cute. The bard seemed perplexed as to why he couldn’t manage to stay on his feet, as evidenced by the betrayed glances he kept shooting at his feet. It was only a matter of time before he took a true tumble, thankfully Geralt had predicted that and was there to catch him when he did. It took a moment for the bard to realize what had happened but when he did his face absolutely lit up.

“Geralt, my saviour, my white knight!” He exclaimed, giggling. His smile was bright as sunshine from where he beamed up at the witcher, throwing his arms around Geralt’s neck and nuzzling into his chest. Geralt just sighed in pretend annoyance and carried his bard up the stairs to bed for the night.

The third time was when Geralt realized he was far too attached. He was once again scolding Jaskier for running into danger and for following him around in the search of it in the first place, demanding for the hundredth time why the bard insisted on following him around?!?!! He was not prepared for the idiot’s response.

“Because you’re my friend of course! Can’t let you face these things alone” the bard had replied. What got Geralt was the sincerity in Jaskier’s voice, the tone that said he absolutely meant what he said. Thankfully Geralt was still rather annoyed from his earlier fear for his bard (friend) and so was able to concentrate on that instead of the things the man’s words made him feel.

The fourth time Geralt found himself almost blushing around his bard he’d been covered in monster guts. It was one of the rare times that the two were staying at an inn instead of sleeping under the stars and Jaskier had demanded he bathe. Because Geralt didn’t actually love being covered in drying gore he’d agreed with only minimal grumbling. Once the bath was brought up, he submerged himself with no care for his modesty in front of the bard. When he resurfaced, notably cleaner he got a look at Jaskier’s face. The bard was looking at him in awe, the sort of expression men wore in front of beautiful woman or amazing works of art. Uncomfortable with the scrutiny he coughed and suggested that if the bard was just going to stand around he could help him with his hair, a suggestion Jaskier leapt on with abandon.

The fifth time Jaskier almost made him blush was a clear day in late spring. They were taking a break from their travels in a nice grassy field covered in flowers. Roach was grazing happily and Geralt was leaning against a tree, content to doze in the sun. Jaskier was sitting a small ways off humming to himself and fiddling with something Geralt couldn’t quite see. Eventually, the bard left what he was doing and wandered over to Geralt instead. The witcher was about to ask if something was wrong before he felt something settle on his head. Opening his eyes, he glared up at his beautiful grinning bard.

“The flowers quite suite you know, they’re almost as pretty as you are” Jaskier told him cheerfully as he settled himself beside the witcher. Geralt rolled his eyes but left the flower crown alone making the bard beam at him as though he had been given the greatest gift, adoration clear on his face for anyone to read.

“You would know better than I would I suppose, buttercup” he teased with a huff which was more fake than not, making Jaskier laugh delightedly.

When Geralt finally lost his battle against his blushes was the first time he and Jaskier slept together. After the mountain, after Yenn and finding Ciri and seeking out his bard to apologize and bring him back to his side where he belonged. After finally confessing his feelings in a cold tower in Kaer Morhen the two had fallen together. It was slow and sweet here where they were safe and could take their time. Geralt had finished undressing and had turned around to see Jaskier giving him that same look he had the first time he’d bathed in front of him. It was a look that made Geralt feel both giant and small and unsure and he found himself frozen, only able to swallow nervously, awaiting judgement almost. Jaskier must have been able to read some of that in his eyes because the bard smiled softly at him and approached, cupping his face with one hand.

“Gods Geralt, I always forget how gorgeous you are. It’s truly unfair, no one could ever hope to live up to your beauty. The gods themselves would bow before it for the chance to worship you” Jaskier whispered, reverent. And Geralt couldn’t help it. He’d had lovers in the past but never had anyone looked at him like that, told him such things with such honesty. Never had he felt for anyone the sort of things he felt for his bard. He could feel his face warm slightly and knew that a blush was spreading across it. Jaskier noticed it as well, his eyes drawn to it magnetically. Before the bard could say anything Geralt bent down and pressed his lips to the other man’s, softly but surely, trying to convey all that he didn’t have words for, and any care he had for his blush was quickly tossed aside as Jaskier kissed him back.