me? projecting? lol no yearning? never but if anyone wants to get high and platonically make out with me at sunset overlooking the san juans then applications are open
Pairing: Geraskier, non relationship, roomies with benefits kinda?
Warnings: devil’s lettuce consumption (weed), making out in public, getting high in public, technically this could be a felony in some states, even more reason to give it a go, but thats all
________________________
Geralt walked up behind Jaskier and just about threw his backpack on the ground, wrinkling and bunching the blanket Jaskier had laid out on the side of the hill. Still, his roommate didn’t move, staring out over the mouth of the sound a couple hundred feet below them. Everything was starting to glow in that specific shade of gold that only really happens on coastal evenings at the end of summer and a gentle breeze was blowing the fresh sea air up to them. Admittedly it was beautiful with its crashing waves and cliffs covered in stubborn pines and the occasional oak or madrone, but there was no reason Jaskier should be that entranced.
It was then Geralt noticed the earbuds and squatted down behind Jaskier so he was just barely a head taller and leaned forward. He was practically hovering over the brunette as he blew a puff of air over his silky soft hair. Jaskier jumped, almost knocking his head into Geralt’s chin, before tilting his head back and smiling brilliantly as he removed his headphones.
“Hi.”
“Hey,” Geralt greeted him, tilting his head down and grinning, “Why’d you call me out here?”
Rolling his eyes, Jaskier sighed heavily before answering, “Routine is all well and good Geralt, but don’t you want to actually enjoy life?”
“I enjoy my life just fine,” Geralt grunted as he let himself fall into the open space on the blanket next to Jaskier, spinning to face out over the water.
Jaskier just waved his hand in the air dismissively as he rifled through his own bag. It took him a minute or two but he eventually found what he was looking for and held a monster joint up for Geralt to admire like it was made of gold. Come to think of it, Geralt was sure weed was better than gold in your late twenties.
When he just looked between the joint and his roommate Jaskier piped up, “Let’s hit this till we can’t drive and makeout.”
A snort made it out before Geralt could stop it, but thankfully it only seemed to amuse Jaskier even more, “I was going to drive us home.”
“We can call Triss and Eskel.”
“Why?”
Jaskier had clearly expected Geralt’s questions and launched into his logic before the syllable had even left Geralt’s lips, “I’ve had a shitty week. You’ve had a shitty week. Why not be degenerates for a few hours and pretend we don’t have the problems we actually do? And- I’m not done, don’t interrupt- when was the last time you got to just relax and makeout with someone while stoned out of your mind? You don’t even have to worry about calling me or ghosting or giving me a shitty excuse!”
“That was only once,” Geralt defended, taking the joint from Jaskier as he spoke and holding his other hand out for the lighter.
“You’re just as much of a slut as I am,” Jaskier argued, flipping the cap of his douchey custom lighter and flicking the striker.
Geralt rolled his eyes as he leaned forward and cupped his hands around the tiny flame, holding the joint between his lips and making sure he got a nice burn going before leaning back and taking a deep inhale. Jaskier mimicked him and leaned back to watch the landscape as they held their breath as long as they could. Geralt could see Jaskier turning red and giving him glances out of the corner of his eyes but he didn’t let his breath out yet.
Finally, Jaskier caved and did his best to slowly exhale but quickly devolved into a coughing fit that left him even more red-faced. Giving him a shit-eating grin, Geralt blew a perfectly steady stream of smoke out in front of them and only had to cough a couple of times before clearing his throat sufficed.
“Y’okay there?” he teased, slapping Jaskier on the back as he continued to cough.
“Fuck- off s-swim team,” Jaskier choked out.
Plucking the joint out of Jaskier’s hand, Geralt gave him a wink, “My athletic career has nothing to do with it.”
About halfway through the joint, they realized if they finished it they wouldn’t have the mind to call for a ride before the next morning, so Jaskier stamped it out on a nearby rock and popped it back in its little aluminum tube for later.
Over time Jaskier had snuggled up to Geralt’s side as they watched the waves crash against the beach on the other side of the inlet. It was the most comfortable he’d been in a while. Between looking for a job that actually used his degree, suffering through a customer service gig, and the nightmare that was dating, he’d forgotten to relax for what felt like years. Hell, it might have been over a year since he’d done something for himself. It had definitely been years since he’d shared a joint with Jaskier.
Oh, right. Jaskier. They were planning to take advantage of the high somehow. Fuck. What had Jaskier said…
“Hey J…” Geralt murmured, tilting his head so his cheek bumped Jaskier’s temple.
“Hmm?”
“What were we gonna do?” A little giggle built up through the end of his question and he smiled despite himself.
“Umm…” Jaskier held his note for longer than Geralt thought was humanly possible as a couple late-night joggers passed behind them on the trail, “Oh, we were gonna suck face.”
“Mm, slutty.”
Jaskier gave a few tiny nods in agreement, still not moving from his spot against Geralt’s shoulder.
Before Geralt really finalized the decision in his head, he’d reached behind Jaskier’s opposite knee and was hauling the yelping and giggling man onto his lap. As he ran his hands up Jaskier’s back and pulled him close enough that their lips could meet, Jaskier snaked his fingers through Geralt’s hair. They both let out a sigh of relief as they sank into each other. Not that they were well practiced in kissing each other, but it was far from their first shared kiss and probably wouldn’t be the last. Both of them knew what the other liked well enough that Geralt was swept up in the kiss for quite some time before he registered something.
Pulling back and rubbing his lips together, Geralt tilted his head and inspected Jaskier’s mouth, “Did you wear bubblegum lip balm?”
“Mhm,” Jaskier started, nosing at Geralt to get him to tilt his head back up where he wanted him, “knew yours would be chapped.”
“Wouldn’t have- if -I got a heads -up,” Geralt grumbled between kisses, one hand digging into Jaskier’s hip.
“Liar.”
Geralt giggled again as he fell backward onto the dry beach grass and pulled Jaskier with him, “Shut up and kiss me.”
a little 4/20 adjacent ficlet because I can't help myself
modern au - pre relationship but definitely soft
tw: Jaskier is high
---
Geralt glances up when he hears Jaskier come tumbling through the front door. His heeled, rhinestone studded ankle boots clack quietly across the floor as he makes his unsteady way from the coat closet to the living room, where Geralt is sitting on the couch watching X-Files with a half-eaten bag of gummy worms in his lap. The younger man peers around the corner; his eyes are bleary and red-rimmed but his gaze is fond and his smile is wide. It's Geralt's private opinino that the official dictionary definition of mirth should include a high-resolution, full-color photograph of Jaskier smiling.
The music theory student waves excitedly, as if his best friend and roommate isn't sitting merely a few feet away. "Geralt, my darling, how lovely that you're still awake!"
"You hung out with Yenn and Priss for four-twenty, didn't you?"
"Mmhmmmmm," Jaskier hums. He follows the hum with a quiet, sweet little giggle that does something absolutely stupid to Geralt's heart. "And I'm... fucked up, buttercup."
"Hmm. I can tell."
"Geralt," Jaskier pouts, swaying a little in place. "It was chilly on my walk back home and my feet hurt and I'm sleepy. Let me snuggle you a little bit to warm up? Pretty please, dear heart?"
It isn't fair. Jaskier knows how much Geralt loves that pet name. The name Jaskier saves only for Geralt, for these moments when they're all alone and the rest of the world seems so inconsequential.
"Jaskier," the older student frowns, gut stirring uncomfortably when he realizes again just how much his feelings for Jaskier have changed since they first became friends, "You're not in your right mind. You should go change into pajamas and sleep off your... adventure."
"You're no fun," Jaskier replies, sticking his tongue out. He spins on his heel and marches off toward his bedroom, heels clicking and clacking as he walks. Geralt hears him muttering under his breath: "Stupid thick-skulled history majors and their broody nonsense. I can't believe I-"
The flow of words is cut off when Jaskier slams his bedroom door shut behind him. Geralt sighs and sinks further into the couch, guilty and ashamed of his behavior just a moment ago. Jaskier only wanted someone to be close with; he was the sort of creature that needed the warmth of other people to survive.
Geralt could be happy to live in a little hut in the middle of nowhere, Shrek-style, and never see the civilization again.
Jaskier would go bonkers without someone else to talk to/at/with. Geralt knows already that he's willing to be that person for now and forever.
But that's not the issue at hand. No, the issue is Geralt's apparently never-ending stupidity. He stands and stretches before making his way down the hall. He pauses in front of Jaskier's room and takes a deep breath. Then he knocks. "Jaskier?"
From inside comes a muffled: "What do you want?"
"I'm sorry for being snippy, Jaskier. Do you still want to snuggle?"
A brief pause. Some shuffling. Then: "Are you watching a scary episode?"
"You think every episode of the X-Files is scary," Geralt replies, the smile obvious in his tone. Jaskier's door opens to reveal the younger man's mussed brown hair and half-lidded eyes. He's wearing one of Geralt's old Kaer Morhen High School t-shirts (a detail that only speeds the pace of Geralt's already racing heart) and loose cotton pajama bottoms in a pale shade of pink. Geralt takes another, deeper breath before continuing. "If you really want to snuggle and warm up with me, I have plenty of gummy worms and room on the couch and, just to prove that I am truly sorry, I will hide your face during the scary parts."
"My hero!" Jaskier declares, leaping forward to throw his arms around Geralt's neck. The history major allows his hands to rest on Jaskier's slender hips for a moment before he pulls away. He takes the brunette by the hand and leads him back to the living room, navigating him between piles of laundry and various displaced pillows. Geralt wraps a fuzzy pumpkin-print blanket around Jaskier's shoulders and pulls him down onto the couch, tucked closely against the larger man's side. Geralt tries to hide his giddiness when Jaskier wiggles his way under Geralt's arm and presses one side of his face into the patch of shirt over Geralt's collarbone, "Now I know I'm safe from the aliens."
"I wouldn't even let them get close enough to touch you," Geralt asserts. He clamps his mouth shut as the words have left it, the pinkening of his cheeks mostly hidden by the dim light from the television. If Jaskier notices he doesn't say anything; instead he lays his head against Geralt's shoulder, still smiling broadly and hazy-eyed.
"I know you wouldn't let me come to any harm. You're too strong and fast and brave," the music student sighs wistfully. "I can always count on you to protect me and help me when I'm feeling down, Geralt. You're so fucking kind. Your heart is enormous and so full of love for the world, even when the world is unfairly shitty to you. That's why I love you so much, you know. Your big fuckin' heart."
"Hmm. Not my butt?"
"No, but your butt is definitely an added bonus. I could watch you walk up and down stairs all day long and never get bored."
Geralt chuckles quietly. He places a feather-light kiss to the top of Jaskier's nest of messy brown hair. The music student relaxes his entire body against Geralt's, letting himself be held steady by the older student.
The X-Files plays on but neither man is really paying that much attention, too content to be close with the other. Too unwilling to let the moment pass unnoticed, unobserved, unmemorized.
They won't admit their feelings to each other for a little while yet but this... this is the beginning of something beautiful.
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.”
(Geralt and Jaskier get high - prompt fill for @passing-as-normal)
-tw marijuana...of course-
“Oh hell yeah,” the bard suddenly whoops, flying from the path and out into the field it borders. “Geralt, wait a moment, won’t you? Let me gather some of this and then we can hurry on our way.”
“What is it?” the Witcher inquires. It smells familiar; he’s caught whiffs of this plant on Jaskier’s clothes before. Or in his hair. Sometimes it’ll sweeten his breath; on those nights he tends to be particularly talkative and affectionate. And handsy.
Geralt associates this smell with pleasant, happy evenings being petted at and cooed over by his little bard.
“It’s the most wonderful herb in the world,” the younger man beams up at him, already stuffing the leaves into his pack one fistful after another. “And we, my dear Witcher, are going to have a lovely night at camp. Make sure to pick somewhere totally safe and monster free to sleep tonight. We’re going let ourselves go a bit and we are going to vibe.”
---
Whatever Jaskier had meant by going to vibe, Geralt was absolutely sure they’d reached that point. They’d burned through three pipe-fulls of the strange plant as they sat beside the fire and the Witcher felt good. He felt better than good. He felt so relaxed.
“What is this stuff?” he asked. The bard giggled and pressed himself along the length of Geralt’s right side. The Witcher’s arm found its way around Jaskier’s waist before he could stop it and the bard snuggled even closer. “I feel drowsy and very...distant. My hand is attached to my arm but I’m not sure that it belogns there, you know?”
“That’s a good way to describe being high,” Jaskier giggled. His smile was wide and dopey. Geralt liked the easiness of it; all of the bard’s feelings were out in the open when he smiled like that. “I feel floaty and soft and very, very tactile.”
“Tactile?” the Witcher snickered. For some reason, one that he didn’t care to think about or bother with, he couldn’t stop laughing. Everything was extremely amusing.
“I feel everything more when I’m high, you know?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Like this,” Jaskier demonstrates, sweeping his hand through Geralt’s loose white hair. They both watch in quiet fascination as the strands fall back towards his shoulder and settle there. He does it again and Geralt releases a happy sigh. “See? It feels better when you’re stoned.”
“It does.”
“May I touch you some more?” the bard asks innocently. Geralt startles and glances sideways. “Just your face and hair. I promise it’ll feel good.”
“Hmm.”
Jaskier was already straddling his lap, running gentle, calloused fingertips over his nose and cheeks. His eyes flutter closed and the bard caresses his lids softly with the pads of his pointer fingers. He feels the younger man’s breath against his skin a mere moment before he feels yielding lips pressing to the corner of his mouth. He seeks out the touch again, eyes still closed, chasing after Jaskier like it’s a game of tag.
“Again,” he murmurs, bewitched by the overwhelming presence of Jaskier sitting against him, touching him all over and smelling so incredibly good. “Kiss me again, my bard.”
