Can I request some more autistic/adhd Geralt? It’s too soft I love
oh absolutely. sorry it took me a minute to fill this prompt but... life hard, author tired
modern au this time, if you want some in canon you can hit me up again with more prompts :)
tw: Geralt deals with some negative symptoms of ADHD and makes a new friend at the gym!
---
Geralt frowned. "I don't want to go, Eskel."
"C'mon dude, please? I need you there to be my spotter... and my wingman."
"Take Lambert."
"Nah, girls like him now. They think he's some kind of Tik Tok sexyman."
"Never say those words in that order to me again. Please."
"Fine. If you agree to come with me tonight."
Geralt did not want to go to the gym. He was tired from working all morning and his medication was starting to wear off; he'd been on Zoom for seven straight hours hashing through the details of the Zoo's grand re-opening at the end of the month with the new director of operations. He was braindead and over-stimulated and grumpy. He wanted to drink something uncharacteristically fruity and alcoholic and hit the hay early.
But he was a good sibling, and good siblings helped out when they had the opportunity. So Geralt grabbed his gym bag, refilled his water bottle, and followed Eskel out the door.
---
Geralt was going to scream.
He needed to go. He needed a minute alone to breathe and process things. Not even a low-dose Ritalin could save him now because he was already on the road to a complete meltdown and he was still stuck at the fucking Planet Fitness.
He nearly jumped out of his skin when a soft voice asked from his left side: "Hey, are you alright?"
Geralt's eyes snapped to the stranger's face. A pair of blue eyes were gazing at him with concern and - not pity, but definitely something similar. Empathy, maybe?
"No."
"Do you want to go outside and grab some air? Or we could go sit over by the yoga mats, it's pretty empty right now."
"I don't know you."
Geralt realized how rude and brusque he sounded immediately after the words left his mouth, but he was being honest. He had no clue who this twunk - because no straight man wears a hot pink crop top to the gym unless they're rushing a frat - even was.
"I know," the man smiled, unperturbed. "But I get the same way sometimes when the world gets to be too much. You're breathing wrong and your eyes don't seem to be able to focus very well. Do you need some water or juice?"
Geralt felt very silly and very small, but he managed to ask: "If it wouldn't be a bother, may I have some juice?"
"Yeah," the twunk grinned. "My name is Jaskier, by the way. Right over here..."
Jaskier led Geralt to a quiet corner of the gym and slipped two pouches of Capri Sun from his tie-dyed bag. "How did you know?"
"I have the same problem," Jaskier winked. "ADHD, right?"
"Mhm."
"Haven't eaten anything substantial today, have you?"
Geralt realized that he hadn't eaten anything other than a bowl of oatmeal for breakfast before work and felt very silly once again. "How could you tell?"
"The thousand mile stare," Jaskier answered truthfully. He finished his Capri Sun and tossed the little foil pouch into a nearby trash receptacle. "Respect the pouch! Anyway, it happens to me during class sometimes and my students always remind me to have a snack or take a few sips of my lemonade."
"You're a teacher?"
"Professor! I teach a few English and Music History classes at Oxenfurt, but mostly I'm a member of the research faculty."
"Cool," Geralt smiled. "I'm the head zookeeper over at Kaer Morhen Public Zoo; I'm a monster specialist and I do a lot of their wild animal and monster rehab."
"That's so awesome!" Jaskier declared. "What's your favorite monster?"
Geralt opened his mouth to release a long string of facts about Wyverns before biting his lip and shaking his head. "I don't want to get into that right now, I'm sure you have other places to be."
"I really don't," Jaskier leaned back, crossing his legs in front of him. "And I love hearing people info-dump."
"Me too," Geralt smiled again, more shyly this time. "Anyway... I love Wyverns."
---
"See you tomorrow!" Jaskier beamed, waving as he made his way across the parking lot. "Can't wait to talk more about those endangered Endrega species!"
"Yeah," Geralt waved back. "And about your thesis!"
"Who's that?" Eskel asked, bumping shoulders with his brother.
"I made a friend. Also we're going to Arby's right fucking now because I haven't eaten all day and I'm starving."
"Aye, aye," Eskel nodded. Then he grinned salaciously at his brother and wiggled his eyebrows, "They have the meats."
"Dork."
Geralt leaned the passenger seat all the way back and let his eyes stay closed during their ride to the fast-food joint.
Geralt gets cursed to have a mini angel and devil on each of his shoulders that only he can see and one of them tries to convince him to make a move on Jaskier while the other thinks it would ruin things between them
oh now this... this is good shit, anon. yes! yesssss!
tw: Geralt has some anxiety
---
“To guilt and love I give a voice,
Don’t take too long to make your choice!”
And with that, the mage disappears in a cloud of dark, greenish smoke. Jaskier coughs, blinking back tears, his sleeve pulled down to cover his nose and mouth. “What the fuck was that about, do you think?”
Geralt shakes his head to clear it and stumbles back to his feet. “A curse, I think.”
“Well which one of us was it for?”
“Him!” Geralt hears Lambert’s voice from his left shoulder. He turns his head and finds a miniature version of his brother standing on his pauldron, grinning like mad. “Hello, big brother.”
“Hello!” chimes Eskel, who is sitting comfortably on his right shoulder.
“Me,” Geralt groans. Jaskier raises an eyebrow.
“I don’t see anything wrong with you. I wonder what she meant by to guilt and love I give a voice; what do you think, Geralt?”
“I have a sneaking suspicion that I won’t be getting much sleep tonight,” the Witcher grimaces. Jaskier shies away, moving toward Roach.
“I’ll stay out of your way and be quiet, then.”
“Poor thing,” Eskel pipes up. “He cares for you so deeply; must you always snap at him like that?”
“He’s just along for the fame and fortune,” Lambert scoffs. “He’s using you for your reputation and adventures. He just wants to use you to make a name for himself.”
“Why would a Viscount need to make any more of a name for himself?” Eskel fights back, their bickering voices unusually soothing despite the topic of conversation, which is actually making Geralt’s skin crawl. He hates confronting his feelings for Jaskier. They’re annoyingly, overwhelmingly positive. “He could be taking a hot bath every night and sleeping on silk sheets, yet here he stands, silently waiting for our dumbass brother to get a move on.”
Geralt takes the prompt and stalks forward to swing himself up into Roach’s saddle. It hadn’t been a pleasant afternoon and he suspects that things aren’t going to get much better. Jaskier’s shoulders are slumped and his fingers toy nervously with the strap of his lute.
The Witcher mumbles, “You can hum, Jaskier. It’s... fine.”
“Oh,” the bard smiles up at him, blue eyes sparkling in the late afternoon light. “Thank you, Geralt. I’d like to try to work out this rather finicky new melody if you don’t mind.”
“Hmm.”
“You could... praise him?” Eskel offers. “You did so well just now, it was nearly a full compliment.”
“Psh, and reveal the secret he’s been hiding for damn near a decade? The bard would be crushed.”
Geralt bites the inside of his cheek to keep from screaming out loud. He’s frustrated already, and he suspects that until he confesses or swears to keep silent about his feelings forever, these two conjurations won’t be leaving any time soon.
---
“Kiss him,” Eskel urges, tugging a lock of Geralt’s hair. He’s established that Jaskier cannot see the tiny Wolf Witchers; the nature of the curse would be too obvious if he could. “He looks so lovely in the firelight, don’t you think? Actually I do know what you think. You think he looks lovely all the time, you just won’t admit it.”
“Why should he admit it? That would ruin a perfectly good friendship. Like you said, Eskel, Jaskier is a Viscount! He can’t stay on the Path with Geralt forever. Eventually he’ll need to return to Lettenhove to marry and settle down. He’s titled, and we can’t expect him to follow a monster around forever, much less fall in love with one.”
“He has never once thought of Geralt as a monster!”
Geralt wants to cry. He wants to rip out his hair and run, screaming with madness, into the dark embrace of the woods around them. Alas, the bard would be Wyvern-bait without him there for protection.
And the curse would stay with him no matter how far he ran.
He closes his eyes and kneels, but the quiet respite of meditation never comes.
---
Geralt is fucking exhausted. His brothers never stop talking. Arguing. Debating. Pleading.
He’s gone truly mad. Jaskier stirs in his sleep, four nights after the curse was cast, and Geralt flinches. His scent is otherworldly and the Witcher’s patience is thinner than tissue paper. Eskel has been very convincing as of late.
He smells like the damp earth after a summer rain, sweetened by something unnamable but floral. He smells like springtime. Youth. Beauty. Geralt whines unconsciously, the sound creeping out from somewhere high in his throat. Jaskier stirs again and blinks his sleepy eyes open. His cute pink tongue darts over his bottom lip and Geralt bites off the sound with a sudden gasp.
“Sorry for waking you.”
“What’s wrong?” the deep concern in Jaskier’s sleep-soft voice stirs the love in Geralt’s heart violently. “You sound wounded. Are you alright?”
“I-” Geralt falters. Falls to his knees in the dirt next to Jaskier’s bedroll. Cups the bard’s face gently with one hand. Lambert begins to swear violently as Eskel cheers him, egging him on. “I love you, Jaskier.”
His brothers disappear.
His ears ring with the sudden silence, the only ambiance coming from the crackling fire.
Jaskier balks up at him, a look of utter terror written plainly on his face. “Geralt? Is this... the curse? Why would you say that?”
“Do you- Are you angry with me, Jaskier? I understand if-”
“No, you fool,” Jaskier laughs, sitting up and leaning closer. “I- I love you, too. I didn’t think you’d ever- That you could ever- After Yennefer...”
Geralt kisses his bard with such sweetness that Jaskier melts against him, his hands braced against that familiar, broad chest. They kiss until sunrise, and then they kiss some more. There’s a lot of lost time to make up for, a lot of poor decisions to be rectified.
lmao siren Jaskier except he has no idea. neither does Geralt. they find out when he accidentally uses his powers or grows a tail. crack all around
crack, you say???
what about flirty crack??
tw: canon typical shenanigans, horny adjacent tw
---
"Oh my gods, my ass!"
"What the hell are you on about?" Geralt asked, poking his head into the frankly enormous bathing chamber they'd been offered by Lord who'd hired Jaskier. What he saw nearly made his eyes bug out of his head. "What the fuck Jaskier!?"
"I don't know what's going on!" the bard cried, flicking his enormous tail where it stretched across the bathing pool. "Help!"
The Witcher darted forward to kneel at the edge of the water, his hands fluttering at his sides. There really wasn't much he could do at this point; Jaskier had already transformed from fully human to half-man, half-fish. His tail was the same beautiful blue as his eyes and sparkled just as fiercely in the bright candlelight. "This hasn't happened before?"
"No! It certainly didn't happen last week when I bathed at the inn."
"Has it really been a week since our last bath?"
"That is not the point, Geralt! The point is that I have a fucking tail where I previously had two rather nice legs!"
"We celebrated your birthday two days ago," Geralt pointed out.
"And what does that have to do with anything?"
"Perhaps you've come to the age of maturity for your species," Geralt shrugged.
"So why didn't a grow a tail two days ago?"
"You haven't been in the water."
Jaskier glared down at his tail, fluttering the delicate fins back and forth beneath the clear surface of the pool. Geralt felt his throat go tight with an unexpected rush of attraction. Sirens were pretty, but too feral for Geralt's tastes. Jaskier... well, he was certainly both of those things, but his innate human curiosity kept them in balance.
"You look... distracted," the newly minted siren grinned up at him. One sharp fang poked out over his lip and Geralt swallowed thickly. "Do you want to find out if I can lure you into the water with my enchanted singing voice?"
The Witcher's eyes darted from Jaskier's tail to his face and then back again, obviously conflicted. The bard rolled his eyes and fisted his hands into the front of Geralt's shirt.
"Or shall I simply drag you to your watery grave, dear heart?"
The Witcher definitely did not squeak.
"Dragged it is," Jaskier grinned, tugging Geralt into the water.
He had been born to see men drown and by god he would drown Geralt - with kisses, of course.
Jaskier giving Yennefer bouquets that slowly grow more insulting until he hands her a bunch of witch's bane and Geralt is So Tired
Jaskier and Yennefer send each other increasingly insulting (but also useful and kind of sweet in a weird way) gifts and Geralt has to sit there and panic about whether or not the two people he loves most (aside from Ciri) want to kill each other.
They do not, of course, they are just Absolute Shits.
Geralt doesn’t know what to do. Jaskier can’t seem to stop fucking shivering. The overprotective Witcher really and truly did his best to keep the bard warm during their trek up the Killer but Jaskier’s sweat is likely close to freezing and making everything so much worse.
When they finally manage to strongarm their way through the front door and into the great hall, Lambert and Eskel are already sitting near the roaring fire; they’re wrapped in enormous furs and appear as two large, formless lumps. “Eskel! Lambert! Quickly, I need your help.”
The two other Wolf Witchers scurry to their brother’s aid. Eskel hefts the bard into his arms and heads toward the fireplace while Lambert disappears with Geralt back into the darkness outside, likely to take care of Roach and grab their bags.
“You’re l-l-larger than G-Geralt,” Jaskier manages to stutter from between his chattering teeth. “B-B-B-roader. Didn’t th-think it was p-p-possible.”
“I’m older by one summer,” Eskel informs him. “Had more time to grow before we both went through the Trials over the same long spring.”
“Oh.”
“But that’s not what you’re here for,” Eskel grins. “No sad stories on your first night, little brother. Now, have you ever sat in the middle of a litter of excited puppies?”
“Y-Yes?” Jaskier raises a curious eyebrow. “Wh-Wh-Why?”
“Well, snuggling with three very excited Wolf Witchers is a probably going to be a similar experience. Since you’re Geralt’s visitor I suppose that means you’ll want to be closest to him, and that works just fine. I’ll definitely take your left flank for safety and Lambert can be on top. Or, if you want, you can lay on top of Geralt and we can box you in on the sides.”
“Hmm,” Jaskier smiles, already loving Kaer Morhen more than life itself. “I like the way that second one sounds.”
---
Jaskier is very warm and very happy and very very sleepy. He’s laying on top of Geralt with his face buried in the Witcher’s warm neck. He’s eaten, he’s gotten changed into dry clothes, and he’s been given permission to share Geralt’s room for the winter.
Now it’s time to enjoy himself and the all the glorious forms of warmth this old keep has to offer. Currently he’s laying on the far side of the great hall in front of the largest fireplace he’s ever seen. Geralt’s two enormous arms are wrapped around him, holding him in place and keeping the fur blanket from slipping away even as his broad hands sweep slowly up and down the bard’s fragile spine. Eskel is laying to their left with one heavy arm thrown over the pile and Lambert is on the right doing the same. Jaskier has never felt happier or safer in his entire life.
“I love you all,” he grins, dopey and exhausted. The words are barely a whisper but he knows all three men can hear him. “I love Geralt most, of course. But you’re all wonderful. And yes, I will be writing a song about this.”
Lambert hisses but there isn’t any real heat in it. Eskel grins lopsidedly, nodding approval. Geralt merely squeezes his arms a little tighter for a moment, used to playing the role of Muse, and resumes rubbing his hands up and down the bard’s back.
Jaskier has the cutest sneeze you'll ever witness and always causes Geralt's cute aggression to appear
Jaskier’s sneezes sound like the world’s most adorable Pokemon sound effects.
As soon as he’s done with his cute little “Ah-cheeoo!” Geralt has his teeth planted gently in the meat of the bard’s shoulder. He wraps his arms around Jaskier and just kinda waits out the urge to smother him with kisses.
I don't know if it's much of a prompt but the first time Geralt info dumps about monsters to Jaskier, and Jaskier just falls for him even harder, because oh wow this idiot witcher cares very much about the difference between griffins in the north and griffins in the east, or something like that. Also I really enjoy reading your fics so thank you so much for posting them!!^^
okay so you just gave me the opportunity to infodump about something I love through the medium of Geralt so... enjoy these boys being cute and soft!
---
“Jaskier, look!” Geralt gasps. He grabs Jaskier by the wrist and drags him over to the side of the worn beaten path. He kneels in the dirt and tugs the bard down alongside him, pointing eagerly at a small patch of roses. They look close to blooming and they’re terribly out of season. “A fairy is about to hatch!”
“Oh,” the bard inhales softly. He leans closer, his blue eyes widening in wonder and a grin stretching across his boyish face. Geralt is smitten. “How lovely!”
“Shh,” Geralt holds a finger to his lips. Jaskier goes quiet beside him, the only noise now is the out-of-rhythm beating of their hearts. After a moment the rose begins to bloom. A small head pokes out first, then two arms and a pair of bright purple-tinged butterfly wings. “It’s a boy!”
“How can you tell?” Jaskier asks. From what he could see, the tiny humanoid figure was neither boy nor girl. The fairy had short, cropped red hair and lovely large wings and not much else to go by.
“His wings are mauve, see? Boy fairies have mauve wings and girls have white wings and those who are neither or both are blue.”
“You know an awful lot about fairies, dear heart,” Jaskier’s grin grows. He crowds closer against Geralt’s side and pouts up at his Witcher. “Tell me more?”
Geralt flushes his own shade of mauve and Jaskier delights in it, utterly captivated. “Do you really want to know?”
“Of course!”
The tiny thing before them is slowly pulling the petals from his rosy nest to build a shirt and trousers, sticking the pieces together with sap and dusting it over with pollen.
“Every time a child laughs for the first time, that laugh goes skipping out into the world and becomes a fairy. The laugh becomes a flower and from that flower climbs a tiny person that already knows how to fly.”
“Are fairies good or evil?”
“They’re so small that they can only feel one thing at a time, so I suppose the answer to your question lies in the hands of whatever any given fairy is feeling that day.”
“Huh,” Jaskier leans his head against Geralt’s shoulder. They sit in the dirt for a long while, watching the newborn fairy gather up his courage and burst into anxious flight for the first time. They cheer him on, watching with bated breath as he finally disappears over the tree line.
The sun is close to setting by then and Jaskier finds himself shivering lightly in the chill of early spring. Geralt settles his cloak over the bard’s shoulders and gets busy scouting for a good place to rest. He pretends not to notice the way Jaskier buries his nose in the neckline of the cloak and breathes in, his eyelids close and his face blooms into an expression of utmost fondness.
I wonder what your laugh turned into, Geralt thinks as he lights a fire and ushers his delicate human companion into its the circumference of its warm glow. Jaskier warms his hands over the flames, his eyes following the Witcher’s every move. He glances back, returning the fond look with one of his own. I wonder what this feeling will turn into...
