#geraskier nonsense

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

Geralt: Dress appropriately, Kaer Morhen gets cold. I don’t want you to freeze before you meet my brothers.

Jaskier: 

[stinastar]

So I’ve already written my next fic, @hailhailsatan has promised to reblog it 100x, so it’s sure to be a hit, I hope you all enjoy my genius.

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

Adding to the Kaer Morhen bestiary collection one volume at a time.

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

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...

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

Dialog prompt? Sure!!!! "About f**king time you brought him home!!!!"

“Is that the bard?” a dark-haired man with broad shoulders asks, pointing to Jaskier, who nods back. “The one you’re always on about?”

Geralt grumbles something unintelligible and the red-headed man laughs. Fucking Witcher hearing.

“Hello. You must be Eskel,” Jaskier holds out his hand. Eskel pulls him into a bone-crushing hug and squeezes the breath out of him. “Oopmh!”

“Welcome to Kaer Morhen, little bard! Geralt, are you telling me you made this darling, petite little thing walk the Killer?”

“Not so little as Geralt makes him sound, eh?” Vesemir teases, measuring up Jaskier’s figure from a distance. “Built like a Cat. He probably made quick work of it.”

Geralt rolls his eyes at his family’s antics and leads Roach off towards the stables. Eskel, Lambert, and Vesemir herd Jaskier toward the keep. Lambert calls back over his shoulder, “We’ll warm up your guest and show him to your room, Geralt! Don’t worry about a thing!”

Geralt shakes his head. At least he can’t get into any real trouble with three Witcher chaperones to keep an eye on him. 

---

Geralt is halfway through Roach’s usual grooming routine when he remembers, suddenly and rather violently, exactly what his bedroom looks like right now. He takes off for the stairs like a shot, his heartbeat ringing in his ears. 

But based on the exclamations he can hear from the hall ahead,  it’s already too late. Jaskier has seen.

Jaskier knows. 

Geralt whips his body around the corner and into his room, eyes wide and panicked as they land on Jaskier who is... who is... smiling? He’s grinning from ear to ear, blue eyes watery and red-rimmed from nearly spilled tears. “I’m sorry!”

“For what?” the bard practically whispers. “Besides not telling me about... well, I could be assuming things. This could just be friendly support. Comeraderie.”

“I don’t think crying yourself to sleep singing Her Sweet Kiss counts as friendly support,” Lambert jeers. Geralt silences his jesting with a glare as powerful as a good right hook. The younger wolf hushes, eyes roaming the cobblestone floor. 

“You... like my singing?”

“Yeah,” Geralt mutters. His walls are evidence enough, why must Jaskier make him say it, as well? There are posters dating back to Jaskier’s time at Oxenfurt over Geralt’s small bookshelf. Scattered above his washbasin and near his armoire are various concert advertisements, part announcements, and even a few Wanted posters. 

Jaskier’s face is plastered across Geralt’s bedchamber walls. 

“Wow...”

“I know, it’s-”

“Eskel, Lambert,” the bard interrupts, snapping his fingers. The two other wolves give him odd looks and he shoots them The Glare. “Get lost, would you kindly?”

They do.

Finally, when they’re alone, Jaskier sits on the edge of the mattress and pats the space next to him. Geralt sits heavily, cradling his face in his hands. “Oh Jaskier, I’m so sorry.”

“For what?”

“You must be... I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I didn’t mean to admit my feelings ever, much less like this.”

“Why didn’t you want to?”

“Because I- you can’t possibly- but the countess?”

“Long gone,” Jaskier chuckles. “Anyway, I’ve been following you around damn near fifteen years now. Of course I want you, Geralt. I love you.”

“So this isn’t... weird? Or creepy?”

“No,” Jaskier grins, glancing around, “But we will have to take them down before we have sex. Too much of a good thing, and all that.”

“And it would be awkward, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes, very.”

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

hiya bouncey!!! i love you and i appreciate everything you do for us!!!!!!!! i have never sent a prompt to you before and i dont know if you are still taking but you kniw that post you reblogged about Geralt being high on painkillers and wanting jaskier? can I have some more of whatever that is? pretty please? i am absolutely in love with the idea. thank you 🥺

So I’m guessing this prompt was based on this lovely post by @darkverrmin (whose blog is a treat). 

I’d be happy to give everyone some post-fight, sleepy grabby-hands Geralt, high off his ass and desperate for snuggles.

tw: catmint, high Geralt in a soft way, very soft content

---

Geralt whined from beneath the thin covers of their rented bed and Jaskier darted to his side, hands outstretched and ready to hunt down the cause of Geralt’s discomfort. Ready annihilate it.

“Where- Julek, where?” the feverish witcher rasped. The bard settled at his companion’s bedside and let his cool hand cradle Geralt’s stubbled cheek. 

“I’m here, dear heart. What hurts?”

“Everything,” Geralt whined again, more quietly. Geralt was often impatient and prone to growling or snarling to get his way, but this complaint was plaintive, verging on childlike. The witcher looked up at him and outright pouted, “Give me the tincture, please?”

“As you wish,” Jaskier hurried to comply. He mixed a fair amount of the healer’s prescribed herbal concoction into a mug of ale and passed it to his witcher, who drained it in a single long gulp. “Will that break the fever? I thought you and your brothers couldn’t get sick.”

“I’m not sick, Jaskier,” Geralt replied, eyes already losing their focused edge. “I’m... poisoned...”

“It seems as though you’ll survive,” the bard joked, trying to lighten his own mood as much as Geralt’s. “Then we’ll be back on the road, I suppose?”

“Hmm.” 

“Should I leave you be, or do you want some company for the night? The floor here is rather comfortable and I could slee-”

“Julek,” Geralt interrupted. His pupils couldn’t seem to stay one size for very long and his gaze drifted across the features of Jaskier’s face without pause, drinking the younger man in like a fine piece of art. His voice was steady despite the delirium clearly clouding his thoughts: “Julek, you’re so pretty in the light of the fire. Like a fairy prince.”

“Geralt!” the bard leapt to his feet. “You’re out of your head again! I’ll-”

A quiet giggle interrupted his panic and Jaskier cut himself off. He stared down in shock as his stoic, grumpy witcher raised his arms from beneath the blanket and made grabby-hands at him. The gesture was accompanied by a high pitched, whiny “Hmm?”

“Do you need to be held, love?”

“Need you,” Geralt implored. Jaskier could not deny his witcher anything. He slid across the mattress and allowed Geralt to bury his snowy head in the crease of his hip, his heavy breaths warm against Jaskier’s waist. Two enormous arms closed around him as Geralt buried his face even further in the heat of Jaskier’s body. “My bard.”

A slow, steady rumble started up from the center of the witcher’s chest and the bard’s eyes widened. “Are you... purring?”

“Hmm.” An affirmative.

“Are you happy?”

“Hmm.” Another affirmative.

“Even though you’re poisoned?” he clarified. 

“You’re close,” Geralt murmured. “Like that. Like you. Love... Love you, Julek. Jaskier.”

The words were disjointed and the statement was full of awkward pauses, but Jaskier smiled nonetheless. “I love you too, Geralt. Now get some rest. I’ll be here when you wake, I swear it.”

“Hmm. Good. My bard.”

“Yes, indeed. Your bard.”

“My darling.”

Jaskier’s heart stuttered in his chest and he whispered, his hands slowly working out the knots in Geralt’s silvery hair. “Yes, love. All yours.”

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

Geralt approaching Jaskier from around the corner, doing his best Steve Irwin impression: What a beauty this one is. Just look at this bard luxuriating in its natural habitat. It’s not often we see one of these in the wild, but this is a pure-bred Dumbicus Thotticus.

Jaskier, whipping around to flip him off: (offended bard noises)

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

Congrats Bouncey!! 🥳 Dialogue prompt for you, darling! "I have a pretty nice cock but my butt is divine"

oh... oh Wolfie you beautiful goob.

tw: spicy-ish, alcohol mention but it’s just the boys being goofy together

---

Geralt wasn’t drunk. He could feel the warm tingly sensation of alcohol swirling in his gut, sure, but he wasn’t drunk. Not like his brothers. The two of them were stumbling around Geralt’s spacious living room (’dancing’, Lambert had tried to assert before falling onto his ass on the carpet) to whatever Ke$ha song was blasting from Eskel’s “Pride” playlist.

Geralt leaned his ass against the edge of the couch and sighed. He loved his brothers, but they were a handful. As always.

“Why don’t you finally buck up and ask Jaskier on a proper date?” Lambert asked, swaying back up onto his feet like one of those inflatable noodle men you see at car dealerships. “He’s like a teacher or whatever, right?”

“Professor. He has a fucking doctorate, Lambert, show him some respect.”

“Whatever,” Lambert repeated, glaring. “You’ve been pining for months now, always talking about his sweet voice and his lovely eyes and his rather sizeable uh...”

“I think the exact description was enormous prick,” Eskel piped helpfully. “How did you see that anyway?”

“Guys,” Geralt growled, spinning away. “Swimming lessons with Ciri, I told you. We were both in the changing room at the public pool. Yen was helping Ciri in the women’s room but you know she doesn’t get her hair wet in public.”

“Well it doesn’t matter how you saw it, really,” Lambert smirked. “What matters is that you’ve been fucking drooling over this twunk for like two months and you can’t even say two words to him in person because your mouth goes dry when you think about bending over for him.”

“Shut up!” Geralt huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“I have a pretty nice cock but my butt is divine!” chirped a voice from Geralt’s back pocket.

All three Witchers jump in surprise. 

“Did you...” Eskel grinned.

“Butt dial him? Yeah.” That was Lambert.

“Fuck, dude.” Eskel again.

“Geralt, do you want to take me off speaker so we can talk about this?” Jaskier finally asked. 

“Uh... yeah, I guess.”

“Good luck, bro.”

---

“Awwwwww gross!” Triss clapped. “What an adorable and weird getting-together story.”

“Yeah, that’s us,” Jaskier winked. “Adorable and weird.”

“He’s adorable,” Geralt smiled, nuzzling his nose into Jaskier’s over-soft hair. “And I’m weird.”

“We switch off,” Jaskier corrected. “He’s just being sweet.”

“Gross,” Lambert added from the couch. “Super gross.”

“Well not everyone can have an enormous pr-”

Geralt cut him off with a kiss.