Hey boo. It's ya wife. May I pretty please request Geraskier with a high-on-catmint, chatty Geralt? That's all. Just the boys being affectionate and Geralt Using Words.
HI BABE I LOVE YOU!
I’m also rather crossed rn so I hope this is legible lmao
Warnings: Geralt is high as a motherfuckin kite, other than that it’s pretty sweet
_____________________
“JASK! My bard! Hello!” Geralt was laying on his back with his head hanging off the side of the bed with a ridiculously excited smile.
Jaskier chuckled and set his lute against the wall before locking the door behind him, “Hello witcher. What’s got you so chipper?”
Geralt snapped his mouth shut and rolled over, “Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
Geralt sat up and pulled his knees up to his chest, shrugging and biting his lips to keep them shut. Jaskier nodded, not buying it in the slightest as he undressed for bed. He kept an eye on Geralt as he went about folding up his clothes and pre-packing their bags for the morning. Every time he looked up, Geralt was staring at him with big doe eyes and a dreamy expression and he’d pretend not to be looking as soon as he noticed Jaskier could see him. When Jaskier got to his pack everything made sense.
“Darling, did you get into the catmint?”
Geralt giggled and stretched out on the bed, reaching for his hand, “Maybe. Don’t be mad! I just got so bored without you. And then I was looking for that book and it just seemed like a good idea. And I didn’t mean to take so much! But it’s fun!” he pulled Jaskier onto the bed with him in a fit of giggles.
“Good gods, Geralt. I’m not mad. A little left out maybe. How much did you take?” Jaskier laughed, shimmying so he was laying on top of Geralt.
The witcher murmured something too quiet for Jaskier to hear as he brushed his hair back, scratching lightly at his scalp.
“What darling?”
“I said I love you.” Geralt sighed, running fingers over Jaskier’s cheekbones, “I love you and you’re so patient with me and I’m such an ass.”
“You’re only an ass sometimes,” Jaskier argued.
Geralt leaned up and kissed Jaskier’s nose, “But you’re amazing all the time. I’m gonna tell you how perfect you are more. I will!” Geralt insisted as Jaskier started to laugh.
Jaskier sat up, straddling Geralt’s waist, “I love you, darling, but you don’t need to. You tell me you love me in other ways.”
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.”
Geralt is a big dumb cat and that’s the tea. Also was he hiding an engagement ring? Possibly.
word count 1k (ish), no tw
please comment or tag. I’m begging for validation, here.
---
Jaskier entered the small but warm inn room and crossed over to the bed, setting his lute in the leather case and latching it carefully closed. Once he’d tucked Sexy into her protective velvet covering safe and sound, the bard turned towards his friend. Geralt was sitting in the corner by their packs, shuffling things around against the wood floor and muttering.
“What are you up to, my darling Witcher?”
“Nothing.”
A whole word? An entire, complete answer that wasn’t just an absentminded, dismissive hum? And so quickly? Jaskier sighed and rolled his eyes.
“Alright, Geralt, what did you break? I promise I won’t be mad as long as it’s not my resin block again.”
“It’s really nothing!”
Jaskier crossed the room and stood above Geralt, hands on his hips and eyes narrowed. The Witcher had clearly been sorting out their bags and had come across the bard’s hidden supply of Catmint. Jaskier had purchased it from an apothecary three towns back in case Geralt ever needed a sleeping-aide or a muscle relaxant, and he kept it sequestered at the bottom of his pack, wrapped heavily in two layers of thick wool. Geralt looked up from the pile of crushed herbs in his hand, his pupils blown wide and black. He blinked slowly.
The Witcher gave Jaskier the kind of apologetic expression a kitten might have given its mother upon realizing it had gotten into trouble and bit at his lip with his sharp canines. It took the bard enormous effort to keep a disappointed look on his face; Geralt was fucking adorable like this and he was tempted not to reprimand him at all. But the Witcher had also gone through his things without permission and that was rude, so…
“Geralt Roger Eric du Haute-Bellegarde,” he frowned imperiously, “What were you doing rummaging around in my things?”
“Might have dropped something.”
“I might have dropped something out of my bag or you might have dropped something into my bag?”
“I dropped something into your bag.”
“And it fell to the bottom?”
“All the way.”
Geralt was incredibly talkative and affectionate under the influence of Catmint and Jaskier usually enjoyed such times, but now his Witcher was acting incredibly nervous and suspicious, eyeing the bag even as he tried to keep his gaze locked with Jaskier’s.
“What are you hiding from me?”
“Nothing!”
“Geralt,” he frowned again. The Witcher crumbled, his wide golden eyes filling up with unsheddable tears. Jaskier’s anger and suspicion dissolved immediately; it had to be a big deal if Geralt was so upset so quickly. “Oh dear heart, I’m not mad at you! I just wanted to make sure that you weren’t… you’re not leaving again without telling me.”
“Oh no!” Geralt’s arms flew out to wrap around Jaskier’s upper thighs, nearly knocking the younger man over. “I could never leave you again!”
Jaskier blushed and bit his lip to keep from grinning. “Never?”
“Of course not,” Geralt shook his head. “But you have to promise not to ask what I hid. You’ll find out soon. It’s a good surprise, okay?”
“Alright,” Jaskier smiled. He swept up the remaining Catmint and packed away whatever could be salvaged. Geralt had clearly inhaled enough to get him pliant and talkative, but not enough to make him sleepy. “Do you want to cuddle or mess around the room a bit and knock stuff over while you’re all noodled out on Catmint?”
“I would like to cuddle.” Geralt stood quickly and swept Jaskier into his arms. The bard laughed brightly and his Witcher nuzzled down against the top of his head. “You smell sweet.”
“I bathed yesterday, remember?”
“Oh, right.” Geralt laid him out on the bed and climbed in behind him; the tactical position, where he could see the door and hear the noises outside the small square window. He tucked them both under the blanket and wrapped his limbs around Jaskier as tightly as they’d go without crushing any bones. “I did, too.”
“Mhm,” Jaskier agreed. He nearly melted into the mattress when Geralt’s head came to rest on his chest, his hypersensitive ear pressed over Jaskier’s heart. “Making sure all my pieces and parts are still working the way they’re supposed to?”
“All in good condition,” Geralt nodded. Jaskier lifted one careful hand up from his side and buried it in the Witcher’s long white hair. He’d convinced Geralt to grow it out until Midsummer so that he could make the fanciest braided crown in all of Lettenhove for their bonfire and festival. His Witcher would be the prettiest dancer in the crowd.
“I’m very excited for Midsummer,” he pressed a quick kiss to the top of Geralt’s head and the Witcher rumbled out a happy purr. The firmer Jaskier’s head scratches became, the louder his Witcher purred against him, rumbling both of their chests with the force of his affection. “I can’t wait to braid this gorgeous mane.”
“Will you make me pretty?”
“You’re always pretty.”
“Hmm,” Geralt glowered. Jaskier tugged his hair a little in order to get his attention. Only when he’d locked eyes with his grouchy Witcher did he say his piece: “You are gorgeous, Geralt of Rivia. I tell you that every day and I’ll keep telling you every day until one of us dies.”
“Even when you marry a fancy noble lady and leave the Path to raise hordes of babies?” Geralt asked, pouting. Jaskier kissed his forehead and pulled him up by the arms, gathering the Witcher close to his chest.
“You know I’m never leaving you,” he sighed. “Come hell or high water, dear heart, I will be your constant companion. You have me by the heartstrings and I’m yours ‘til my last breath.”
“Hmm,” Geralt smiled and blushed, burying his face in the bard’s chest as if that would stop his face from burning bright pink. “Jaskier.”
“You asked, I merely gave you my honest answer, love.”
“I love you.”
“I know. I love you, too.”
The purring grew louder and Jaskier grinned.
“You could...practice,” Geralt muttered against the bard’s neck.
“What do you mean?”
Geralt propped himself up on one elbow and looked off into the distance, avoiding Jaskier’s curious gaze. He twiddled his fingers together, “You could try out your braids right now and see how they look. Maybe you’ll need to see a few different styles before Midsummer.”
“Would you like me to braid your hair and sing to you?”
“Yes.”
“Alright, then. Sit up. Here we go. What song would you like?”
“Hmm,” Geralt considered, his eyebrows gathered firmly together. Finally he decided, “Matty Groves.”
“Alright, Matty Groves it is.”
Jaskier’s fingers started weaving, his mouth started singing, and his heart fluttered brightly with his Witcher in his arms.
My dearly beloved Braincell Bae. Do you have any stoner Geraskier content whirling around up in that brain of yours? - Sincerely, A Dumbass Who Loves Your Stoner Jask
Anything for you, darlin’! This just an extra special Catmint fic where they both have a lil bit lol. Lots of snuggling and smooching.
tw: weed, getting high
---
Jaskier rolled the strange smelling leaves into a tight bundle and twisted the end closed. It resembled the cigars or hand-rolled cigarettes that nobles sometimes carried in silver cases in their pockets but the scent was far sweeter and stranger.
“What’s that?”
“Hmm?” Jaskier hummed, looking up. His lips were pursed in concentration and his tongue was sticking out of the corner of his mouth slightly. Geralt suppressed a blush at how cute the bard looked like that.
“What are you doing?”
“You’ve never gotten high before?” Jaskier giggled. “Aren’t you older than my grandparents?”
“No. I’m probably the same age,” Geralt frowned. The bard giggled again and lit the strange rolled bundle with a stick from the fire. He inhaled, held it for a few beats, and blew out a stream of thick blue smoke. His blue eyes watered and he sighed, his stiff shoulders visibly relaxing.
“Here,” Jaskier passed it to him. “Breathe in, hold for a second or two, and then breathe out.”
Geralt followed the bard’s instructions and found himself floating lightly within his own body, a comfortable buzz settled at the back of his skull.
“How you do feel?”
“Good.”
“Alright,” the bard smiled gently and puffed half the strange herb down before offering it to the Witcher again. “If there’s no monsters in the immediate vicinity, you should have some more.”
“We’re safe,” Geralt nodded, accepting it. “What is this stuff?”
“Weed.”
“From the side of the road!?”
“No, it’s - “ Jaskier paused to chuckle and shake his head “ - it’s called cannabis and it’s good for relaxing. Like Catmint but much stronger.”
---
Fifteen minutes later, Geralt was spread out on his bedroll staring at the sky and Jaskier was laid out next to him, giggling quietly every once and awhile. “What’s so funny?” the Witcher asked.
“Just thinking about your butt,” Jaskier mused. “It’s a very nice butt, Geralt, really. You should hire someone to do a sketch and then sell erotic pamphlets when your Witchering business is slow.”
“What the fuck?” Geralt laughed. He would have been upset by such an absurd statement on an ordinary day, who would want to see a Witcher’s naked ass? but this experience wasn’t ordinary in the slightest. Jaskier’s warmth was so close and so tempting and he wanted to curl around the bard and...
“Are you purring, my sweet Witcher?” Jaskier asked, shooting up into a sitting position. Geralt stopped immediately and buried his face in his hands. The bards hands landed on his shoulders and started to shake him, “Don’t stop, Geralt, it was so cute!”
“Cute?” the Witcher asked from between his fingers. It was nearly a squeak (a manly squeak) and Jaskier fawned over his companion openly.
“You’re absolutely adorable,” the bard insisted. He gazed down at Geralt with wide, adoring blue eyes. “I’m going to follow you to the ends of the earth.”
Geralt sat up and leaned back against the log they’d been using as a chair. He gathered Jaskier into his lap and wrapped his arms tightly around the bard’s slender waist. He’d never noticed before just how well they fit together. Jaskier’s head could rest comfortably on his shoulder either standing or sitting. He could reach the bard’s lips from any position with relative ease.
It was almost like they were made for each other.
“Jaskier,” the Witcher murmured into the skin behind the bard’s ear. “I’d really like to kiss you, if you don’t mind.”
“I would be overjoyed,” Jaskier replied. His racing heartbeat only proved his eagerness to the curious Witcher, whose hand had moved to cup Jaskier’s face, seemingly of its own accord.
The bard settled the weight of his head into Geralt’s palm and closed his eyes, tilting his chin until their lips were nearly touching. Geralt did the rest, leaning down and connecting them together in a moment of quiet, gentle happiness.
He started purring again automatically and Jaskier’s joy permeated the air in thick, heavy waves. Geralt kissed him again, more passionately, his free hand gripping at the bard’s slender hip. When he pulled away for breath he let their foreheads rest together. “Gods, you’re so pretty.”
“As are you, my handsome Witcher.”
“Hmmm. Another?”
“Yes,” the bard sighed, leaning back and gazing up at the sky. “Another. And remind me to send my flower guy a thank-you note.”
WE’RE GETTING INTO THE SPIRIT OF HALLOWEEN, FAM, SO YOU’D BETTER LEAVE ME SOME TREATS IN THE COMMENTS/TAGS
tw: drug use, drug mention, it’s just weed tho
thank you @anxiousbard for the inspiring conversation <3 love you
---
“Wanna go out tonight?” Jaskier asks, glancing towards his roommate. Geralt is sprawled along the length of their shared IKEA futon, one elbow propped up to support his head where it leans against his hand. The curtain of his white hair shakes back and forth as he gives Jaskier a silent ‘no’.
“New scary moves on Netflix,” is all the older man offers in consolation.
“Oh! Which ones?” Jaskier inquires, coming around the side of the futon to sit on the wooden arm-support. “I’m a sucker for the bad shit.”
“Friday the 13th, all the originals,” Geralt lists. “Halloween I and Halloween II. I think there were also some sci-fi movies and some paranormal stuff. Oh, and Hellraiser.”
“All the Hellraiser movies or just the first one?”
“Uh...the first six, it looks like,” his roomie answers, scrolling down the list with the remote. “Oh fuck they even have the straight-to-DVD one from like 2005 on here.”
“Damn,” Jaskier slides onto the couch beside Geralt, his plans to leave the apartment totally forgotten in the face of shitty horror movies. “Let me put on some pajama pants and make some popcorn so we can watch this beautiful disaster together.”
“Have you seen it?” Geralt asks, glancing up at Jaskier.
“No, but it was a horror movie made in 2005 and the description includes the word cyber so I’m already lowering my expectations,” the music teacher states, standing and stretching. “Be right back, darling.”
“Hmm.”
Jaskier dips from the room and when he returns he’s wearing a pair of bright pink Tinkerbell-print pajama shorts (the ones he had proudly brought home from a Jo-Anne Fabric’s “Basics of Sewing” class) and carrying an unfamiliar wooden box.
“What’s that?” Geralt asks, pointing. The younger man blushes and shrugs.
“I didn’t think you’d mind if I smoked a little before we watched the movie? You’re welcome to join me, of course.”
Jaskier had been offering to get his freakishly gorgeous roommate and ill-begotten crush high for months now, ever since it had been legalized, but Geralt just didn’t seem that interested. Tonight, however, the snowy head nods in affirmation. “Never tried it before. Nothing to do tomorrow. Might as well, if that’s cool?”
“Yeah, of course. I’m happy to smoke you down.”
So Jaskier packs his favorite, fanciest pipe and teaches Geralt how to inhale. He also watches him nearly die after his first big hit. The young music teacher laughs and claps his friend on the shoulder firmly, stating: “You’ve gotta cough to get off!”
Geralt’s face goes even pinker than it was after his coughing-fit recovery. “Wh-What?”
“If you want to get high really fast then you have to take fat rips,” Jaskier explains, puffing on the long, curved pipe like he’s Sherlock motherfucking Holmes. “You must cough, therefore, to getteth off.”
“Fuckin’ weirdo,” Geralt mutters. But his posture is already more relaxed and his tone is already more playful. Oh yes, Jaskier thinks, emptying the ash and packing it up again. This is going to be a great night.
---
“What the fuck is this kid doing?” Geralt wheezes, tears streaming down his face as he bursts out into another loud peal of laughter. The ‘joth’ (goth jock) on screen, Mike, is experiencing perhaps the worst make-out session in the history of cinematography and neither man can keep it together on the futon. “Wh-Wh-Why!?”
“I couldn’t honestly tell you,” Jaskier replies, giggling madly. He reaches forward and picks up the pipe. He’s about to take another hit when Geralt stops him. “You wanna go first?”
“No,” Geralt says, still smiling goofily. “I just wanted to tell you that I like you.”
“Huh?”
“I like you.”
“And you chose this moment, as we smoke weed on our shitty couch and watch a young and underpaid actor say ‘rawr’ in all seriousness, to tell me that you like me?”
Geralt tilts his head to the side like a confused puppy and Jaskier’s heart goes to mush in his chest. “Yes? Did I do it wrong?”
“No,” Jaskier smiles, leaning closer to his roommate. “I like you too, by the way.”
“Oh thank goodness,” Geralt sighs. He tosses one of his tree-branch sized arms around Jaskier’s waist, hauling the younger man up the length of the futon and into his lap. He nuzzles down against the top of Jaskier’s head and squeezes the surprised music teacher into a tight hug. “Let’s be boyfriends.”
It’s all moving incredibly fast but Jaskier understands. Geralt is an ‘all or nothing’ kind of guy and he’d needed the high to lose his fear of failure. He’d needed Jaskier to get to Jaskier. How adorable.
“Okay. Will you remember all of this when you’re sober?”
“Mhm. Just...nervous.”
“You thought I’d want to move out?”
“Mhm.”
“Well I’m not moving out now,” Jaskier says. “I live with my insanely hot boyfriend.”
“Insanely hot?” Geralt blushes. On the screen, Mike is being impaled. Jaskier ignores it completely, brushing noses with his newly-minted boyfriend instead. “You really think so?”
“Oh yeah,” Jaskier nods, relaxing into Geralt’s strong arms. “Now, let’s finish this horrible movie, shall we?”
