#geraskier stoner

[awaywithwitchers]

Chapters: 2/? Fandom: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, The Witcher (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Aiden/Lambert (The Witcher) Characters: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion, Eskel (The Witcher), Lambert (The Witcher), Aiden (The Witcher) Additional Tags: Fluff, Just a fun time, Brothers, Arguing, Domestic Fluff, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Stoner eskel, jaskier can’t swim, Lambert Lambert What A Prick Series: Part 8 of Rugby Geralt AU (Supplemental Stories) Summary:

During a weekend at Aiden's parents' cabin, Lamb and Geralt get into a fight after Jaskier ends up in the middle of the lake because of Lambert's antics. This one is totally canon.

Some brotherly antics bc why not

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

Good Vibrations

Thank you to @permanently-exhausted-witcher for that Geralt edit yesterday! You really did me a solid and, as promised, I have written you the fic! I love stoner aus (because I myself am a bit of a stoner) and this was so much fun to write. Thank you for the prompt, boo!

Good Vibrations - The Beach Boys

tw: drug use, marijuana only, horny

---

“What’s wrong with your eyes?” Jaskier asks. “They’re all...red.”

“Yeah, that can happen,” Geralt replies. The room Geralt had rented before Jaskier even reached the mid-sized Redanian town was unusually cushy. His Witcher’s tastes were usually more spartan in nature and the bard was curious as to why he’d chosen such a place to stay for the two of them. And why it smelled so weirdly sweet and skunky at the same time. 

“Did you burn incense or something? It smells weird in here.”

“Not quite,” the Witcher giggles. Fucking giggles. “Come over here and I’ll show you.”

Jaskier crosses the room and sets his pack and Sexy down next to the bedside table. He perches on the edge of the mattress next to his favorite Witcher and waits patiently for the strange red-eyed ailment to be explained. Geralt giggles again and puts a finger to his lips, signalling for secrecy. Another small, happy sound finds its way between his lips and Jaskier can’t help but smile encouragingly in response.

“I’m high.”

“What?”

“Lambert found a huge field full of the dankest kush behind Kae-”

“Hold on.”

“Huh?” Geralt looks over to Jaskier again and finds the bard looking positively flabbergasted.

“Did you just say the words dankest kush?”

“Yes, I did. It’s really good shit. Do you want some wax? It’s all I brought because it’s easier to travel with.”

Jaskier considers for a moment, running his hand along his smooth chin as if pretending to stroke a beard. Geralt is gazing at him with eager eyes and his hands are clenching and unclenching in the sheets beneath him. The bard has never tried this particular substance before but if Geralt is offering it then it’s probably not something that will kill him or make him sick. He nods, brown bangs flopping in and out of his eyes as he does, “Sure, I’ll try a bit.”

The Witcher’s face lights up in a new and unfamiliar way, like he’s truly relaxed for the first time since Jaskier has met him, and he breathes out a soft: “Excellent.”

Geralt pulls a strange, jointed glass contraption, half-full with water, from beneath the bed and removes a tiny tin (almost small enough to be a lip-rouge tin, it looks like) from his bag. Using a small metal pick, the Witcher takes a glob of some odd yellow, sticky substance and transfers it from the tin to a protruding stem on the glass thingy. “What is all this?”

“It’s called a dab, Jaskier. It gets you high in a different way than just smoking the herb.”

“Can’t say I’ve really tried this before,” the bard shrugs. “So for now it’s all the same.”

“Really?” The Witcher seems extremely surprised. His grey eyebrows disappear nearly all the way into his hairline; he’s rarely this expressive and Jaskier is reveling in it. “But you’re always so...horny.”

“Thank you for that assessment,” the bard deadpans. He shrugs off his doublet and undoes his chemise where it laces at his throat, letting some of his chest hair peak out. Geralt swallows the growing lump in his throat as his friend mutters, “It’s fucking hot in here.”

“Well yeah, it is now,” Geralt snorts. He can’t seem to stop himself from adding,  “It’ll only get hotter if you keep taking your fucking clothes off.”

“Alright, whatever this shit is,” Jaskier says, gesturing to the dab rig, “I want some in me like yesterday. If it can make you, the great and grumpy Geralt of Rivia, joke around so easily then I want to be on the same spiritually transcendent plane.”

Geralt’s brow furrows as he squirrels the tin back into his bag. Without another word he signs for Ignii and watches the amber wax bubble and melt a little in the stem. Geralt breathes in through a tube at the other end of the rig and Jaskier watches a swirl of thin white smoke bubble through the water in the wide glass chamber and into his friend’s lungs. After a moment the Witcher releases the cloud back into the room and that sickly sweet stink returns.

“Your turn,” the Witcher half-coughs, gesturing at the multi-jointed pipe. Jaskier leans forward and mimics his friend, taking a long, hard pull of white smoke. Geralt yanks the dab rig away with a bright laugh. “Fuck, Jask! You’re going to die!”

The bard releases the smoke more quickly than Geralt had, taking the Witcher’s words to heart as he’s compelled into a coughing fit by the strange itching burn of the drug. “G-Geralt! Wh-What the fuck!?”

“Are you okay?”

There’s already a pleasant, tingling buzz settling at the back of Jaskier’s skull and behind his eyes. He breathes through the cramps in his chest and settles more firmly against the mattress. He feels soft. Pliant. “I feel like a…”

Geralt waits a moment to hear what Jaskier feels like but the sentence never ends. The Witcher glances over to find his friend, glassy-eyed and silent, staring down at his palms where they rest atop his thighs. Oh. Jaskier is high. Like really fucking high. And he’s only taken one little hit.

Geralt has had four.

The bemused Witcher sets the now-empty dab rig on the table and tugs Jaskier closer so that their thighs are nearly touching but not quite. The bard looks up from his hands, startled, and allows himself to be moved. “Oh, hello again. Geralt?”

“Yes, Jaskier?”

“You’ve been smiling this whole time,” the bard muses. His voice sounds dreamy and far away, half a register higher than usual. “Are you going to die? Is that why we’re doing this? Why have you gotten a nicer room than usual, one that I would like, and why are you giving me this...stuff? Is it all so you can break the news to me that you’re dying of some strange Witchery ailment?”

“No, it’s the drugs,” Geralt replies. “They make me feel very relaxed. They make my mind a little quieter. I got the nice room because I had a little extra coin and I thought...I thought you’d like it.”

“I do.”

“Good.”

“Thank you.

“You’re welcome.”

“I can feel so much,” Jaskier sighs. Geralt glances over at him again, watching his long fingers swirling against the soft material of his high-waisted trousers. 

“I’d like to feel you.”

“Huh?” Jaskier looks dazed. Geralt slowly lowers his large hand, settling it against the top of the bard’s unoccupied thigh. 

“You always look and smell so soft,” Geralt murmurs. “Are you? Are you really always that soft?”

Jaskier glances up. His face breaks out into a wide, dopey grin. “Yeah. I’m really that soft.”

Geralt’s hand is rucking up his shirt a second later, sliding his hand along the smooth skin of Jaskier’s rib-cage and over onto the man’s slightly coarser, hirsute chest. The Witcher is fucking purring. A loud, deep rumble comes fluttering out of his chest as he caresses the man beside him. 

“Geralt,” Jaskier sighs. “Yes, like that.”

“It’s been so long; I’ve missed you.”

The Witcher’s lips seek out and sink against his bard’s. The two men slide down against the pillows and adjust until both are shirtless and tangled together. Jaskier is resting with his head against Geralt’s chest, his fingers swirling through the silvery hair, and Geralt’s hand is buried in the thick brown hair atop Jaskier’s head. 

To the bard’s extreme surprise, his Witcher begins to sing very softly above him. 

“I - I love the colorful clothes he wears;

And the way the sunlight plays upon his hair. 

I feel the sound of a gentle word 

On the wind that lifts his perfume through the air.”

“Are you singing about me?”

“Hmm.”

“Did you write a song about me?”

“Don’t get too excited,” Geralt chuckles, “I overheard it at a tavern on my way  north and it happened to remind me of you.”

“So you memorized it?”

There’s another lazy hum from the Witcher and Jaskier feels tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. 

“That’s so incredibly sweet of you, my love.”

“Well, you’re incredibly sweet. Only makes sense.”

“Kiss me again, Geralt. I swear that I’ll die if you don’t.”

“No dying on me, bard,” the Witcher orders, dragging his lover up his chest and pressing their mouths urgently together. “Never.”

“Let’s have some more of this stuff,” Jaskier suggests breathlessly. “And then see what happens. I’m feeling very...touchy.”

Geralt grins and reaches for his bag.

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

Bubblegum Lip Balm

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.”

And Jaskier did, for hours. 

[g-a-y-b-a-c-o-n]

Geralt and Lambert trying to outdo each other on dates. Like who can come up with the best date idea. Meanwhile both Jaskier and Aiden are very content with staying inside, eating take out and playing video games

Geralt: You know? Me and Jaskier probably had the best date ever. We went to a salsa class and Jaskier loved it.

Lambert: Oh? You did? That’s cool. If you’re an old married couple. Lemme tell you about what we did. Nighttime, rooftop, old farm, stargazing.

Geralt: Okay. Yeah. That’s cool and all. If you’re a college stoner.

Eskel: *tired sigh* Letho. Pass the bong.

[meanwhile]

Aiden: So, what are you gonna do for your next date?

Jaskier: I’m gonna make him stay home so we can just watch a movie and fucking r e l a x .

Aiden: Fucking s a m e .

[witchertits]

You ain't a drug but you get me so high

Geraskier, M, 6k Read on Ao3!!

by WitcherTits (MirkwoodBabe)

Summary:

“I, ah, that is, I’ll have what you’re having?” he hesitantly met his eyes. It had been just days since Lambert callously told him he wasn’t one of them, and he wasn’t quite prepared for the newfound acceptance Geralt’s family appeared to be extending to him.

Lambert barked out a laugh.

“Fair enough,” Lambert picked up the pipe he’d been smoking and a lit tallow candle.

Jaskier bodily recoiled from the flame.

“Can— can you light it for me? Please?”

“‘Course,” Lambert inhaled, drawing the flame into the pipe’s bowl. Satisfied it would remain lit, he passed it to Jaskier.

S2 fix-it fic but add cannabis!!!

Rating:

Mature

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types

The Witcher (TV)

Relationship:

Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion

Characters:

Jaskier | Dandelion

Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia

Eskel (The Witcher)

Lambert (The Witcher)

Coën (The Witcher)

Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg

Additional Tags:

Drug Use

Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism

Improper Use of Igni (The Witcher)

Smoking

Nonbinary Lambert (The Witcher)

If I smoked with Lambert one of us would leave with a different gender

Fix-It

Stoner Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia

In Vino Veritas

or whatever the weed equivalent is

Recreational Drug Use

Marijuana

disabled Coën (The Witcher)

pass a joint to your witcher

Getting Together

First Kiss

Everybody Lives

Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion

wake and bake

Kaer Morhen (The Witcher)

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

Little Green Men

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.

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

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.”

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

someone accidentally eats a special brownie and gets way too high and the other has to take care of them :3c

(thank you for answering my desperate plea for some stoner content, fam)

tw: drug use, weed brownie, vomiting once, lots and lots of cuddling

---

“Jaskier,” the Witcher frowns. The bard smells...funny. Different. Slightly off. “What’s wrong with you? Are you feeling sick?”

Jaskier shakes his head ‘no’ and the movement makes him sway on his feet. Geralt reaches out to steady him and looks deeply into the bard’s blue eyes, which were now surrounded by a soft ring of pink veins. Jaskier giggles and leans against the Witcher’s hand. “I had a...special dessert at the party. May have had too much.”

“Oh, you had the...stuff?”

“Yes.”

“I warned you not too have too much.”

“I don’t listen very well.”

“Hmm.”

“Geralt,” he grimaces, still leaning heavily against his friend for support. “I don’t feel-”

The Witcher catches on just in time and spins Jaskier around to vomit up the contents of his stomach behind a roadside bush. “Okay, so you’re definitely sick.”

“I don’t feel feverish,” the bard groans. “Just really light-headed and dizzy. Carry me?”

Geralt presses the back of his hand against Jaskier’s forehead but the bard is right; his temperature is only slightly elevated. Likely from the effort of throwing up. “If you keep walking will you get sick again?”

The bard takes a few shaky steps forward before pitching towards the dirt with a soft cry of surprise. Geralt takes one enormous stride and scoops the bard up before he can face-plant into the dust. Jaskier looks up at him and giggles nervously, “My hero!”

“My idiot,” the Witcher rolls his eyes. Jaskier snuggles tightly against his rescuer’s chest, burying his face in the side of Geralt’s neck. He takes a deep breath and Geralt tries not to shiver at the sensation of warm skin pressing so softly against his own.

“You smell great,” the bard sighs.

“I thought I smelled like heroics and heartbreak or some shit.”

“No. You smell like cedar. And leather. And sweat. And monster blood a little bit.”

“Hmm.”

“What about me?”

They’re almost back to camp. Geralt hadn’t been in the right state of mind to stay at a castle overnight; he didn’t trust the Lord that had hired them and Jaskier understood. He trusted the Witcher’s instincts almost more than Geralt trusted them himself.

Geralt gave the bard a half-hearted sniff. “Sarcasm, mostly.”

Jaskier whines and pulls his face back out of the Witcher’s neck. “Sorry for trying.”

Geralt sets him down next to the fire and wraps his trembling shoulders in a blanket. He hands Jaskier the waterskin and makes sure he takes a few long sips. “Trying?”

“To flirt.”

“Oh. Is that what you were doing?”

“Yeah. I thought you might like me too. My bad.”

The bard sounds like he’s already half asleep, so Geralt humors him. “You smell like chamomile and resin. Maybe a little bit like leather. Maybe a little bit like monster blood.”

“Hmm,” Jaskier’s face breaks into a goofy smile and he snuggles close to the Witcher’s side. He breathes out a, “G’night Geralt.”

“Goodnight, bard.”

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

when i’m with you (i have fun)

(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.”

So Jaskier does. 

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

“Oh, twisted! Under, sideways, down; I know you're getting twisted And you can't calm down. I see you under the midnight, All shackles and bows.”

“Magic” - The Cars

(Geralt x Jaskier take a roadtrip to the coast, 1989)

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

For the music genre prompt: 90's grunge anthems (bc it's me and I can't help it) with all the plaid and ripped jeans and greasy hair and questionable chemical habits 💖💖💖

(oh hey girl! you know I gotchu fam. Grunge for life! Also don’t do drugs or drink, kids, it’s not cool.)

tw: marijuana use, underage drinking (no dangerous situations tho)

Song: Miserable by Lit

---

Geralt frowned into his can of beer, stolen from his dad’s relatively abandoned mini-fridge in the garage. He was definitely not watching the kid across the street do his homework through his open bedroom window window. He definitely wasn’t glaring the sophomore down as he sipped at the sad excuse for alcohol in his hand. 

“You’re going to kill him if you brood at him like that for long enough,” Yen said, climbing up the rose trellis to join him on the roof. Her hair was a huge mess, as usual. His was probably no better; he hadn’t washed it in, what, a week? Whatever. Conserving water and all that good shit. 

“Shut up.”

“You make me come...

You make me complete...

You make me completely miserable!” 

Yennefer sang a few lines of the song in her slightly off-key alto and bumped Geralt’s shoulder with her own. “Wanna toke up?”

“My Dad’s home.”

“So’s Eskel,” she shrugged. She had a point. Geralt’s older brother was halfway through a college degree at a nice school and he still couldn’t figure out that it was a bad idea to smoke weed in your poorly ventilated first-floor bedroom. The bedroom right below your father’s room. 

“Fair point. Pass it,” Geralt gestured. Yennefer lit the joint and passed it to him. “He’s just...cute? Is that the right word?”

“He bathes regularly and has none of the same tastes as you,” Yen chuckled. She tugged at the rolled-up sleeve of Geralt’s blue-and-black plaid shirt before gesturing at his straight, greasy white hair. “Although I have heard people whispering that he has a special fascination with your hair.”

“So do lots of people,” Geralt shrugged. Plenty of girls had asked him out based on the weird white-hair-amber-eyes genetic mishap thing. He blamed the popularity of the latest X-Man comics and the heavy-handed romance between Jean Grey and Cyclops. 

Fuckin’ X-Men.

“No I mean like...well, just ask around at school.”

Geralt took the joint from his best friend and French-inhaled just to show off. She punched him in the arm.

“Fuck off,” he laughed. He laughed loud. 

“Geralt?” a voice called distantly. His head snapped up. Jaskier was squinting out of his bedroom window, his eyes scanning Geralt’s front yard. Yennefer waved unhelpfully and her companion tried desperately to pin her arms back down to her sides. The underclassman saw them on the roof and waved, beaming. He cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled: “Hey guys! Room for one more?”

“Sure!” Yen replied. Geralt’s head sank into his hands. 

“You’re such a bitch, Yen.”

She hummed a few bars of Miserable as Jaskier jogged across the street and clambered up the trellis as if he’d done it a thousand times before and this wasn’t their first clandestine nighttime meeting. 

Geralt never really settled into suburbia as well as his brothers did, still used to the quiet loneliness of farm life, but his neighbors made it bearable. Yen was two houses down on the left and Jaskier had recently moved in across the street. He was two grades younger than Geralt and cute as fuck. 

So here was our protagonist, sitting between his best friend and his secret crush. Stoned. Tired. A little buzzed. “Shit.”

“What’s shit?” Yen asked, smirking.

“You know exactly.”

“Oh,” Jaskier’s face fell and he leaned back. “Did I invite myself over at the wrong time? I can go. I didn’t mean to interrupt if you guys were-”

Yen’s burst of laughter interrupted Jaskier’s apology. The younger boy was blushing like mad and Geralt couldn’t get enough of the precious sight. It was adorable. He was angelic. 

“Oh, Geralt and I are not-” she snorted and made for the trellis herself, lowering herself off the roof, still laughing. “We don’t do that.”

“What was so funny?” Jaskier blushed again. Darker. Geralt was in heaven.

“You’re cute.”

“Huh?”

“Sorry - I - I’m sorry, I’m stoned,” the older boy stated. Jaskier giggled. Fuck me that’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard, Geralt’s high brain registered distantly. His hand inched towards Jaskier’s where it rested on the roof. Jaskier didn’t pull away. “You’re cute.”

“I didn’t know you were gay.”

“Bi.”

“Oh, cool. I’m gay.”

Geralt nearly choked on his tongue. But then Jaskier’s mouth was on his and oh...that was nice. When they pulled apart for air Geralt gave a dopey grin, “Cool.”

SEND ME A MUSIC GENRE AND GET A FICLET