#jaskier prompt

[spielzeugkaiser]

That one had to happen! For those two I pictured Geralt not kissing Jaskier under the mistletoe in public, for fearing repercussions - but later, with just them...

#zombie kaiser draws for christmas #geralt of rivia #jaskier #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #the witcher #the witcher netflix #funnily enough #i only one prompt for canon geraskier #and a lot of 'since you already have that prompt many times I'll go for...' #i love all the prompts!!

[tiny-pun]

"You know how to clean up a crime scene but not how to wash the fucking dishes ?!?

...

How is that even possible?! "

#is this inspired by a head canon of seo inwoo? #idk #maybe. shut up #lawless husbands #han juwon x lee dongsik #writing prompt #fanfic prompt #hero x villain #sterek #destiel #newtmas #coldflash #wangxian #hualian #fenging #villain prompt #hero prompt #drarry #xicheng #geralt x jaskier #supercorp #lokius

[pokeberry5]

For the shirt cut meme, maybe Geralt or Yennefer in either of these? 🥵

both. BOTH.

i combined your suggestion with this lovely anon's:

#i was so scared i'd forgotten how to draw them but nah still got it #bc this is me: #geraskefer #yennefer of vengerberg #geralt of rivia #jaskier #the witcher #sart #i'm gonna post these individually bc i cant be bothered to fit them in the template and i have a feeling im gonna go loosey-goosey #w some prompts so #prompts

[tishawish]

Touch Prompts - 9. Listening to the other’s heartbeat

squeezing in one last geraskier piece before the year ends! thank you for following along with me this year<33

#geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #the witcher #fanart: the witcher #tish arts #touch prompts #jaskier realize geralt loves him back challenge #i'm sorry to whoever requested this #this one has been sitting as a wip for months;;

[batbusiness-schooldropout]

There is an ongoing competition in Kaer Morhen to see who can get Geralt to say the most words at one time.

For over 30 years Lambert was the champion with 72 words (and a broken nose) following an incident wherein he rubbed turmeric into Roach's white spots.

Until Jaskier shows up and manages to earn an even 90 words.

#the witcher #witcher 3 #geralt of rivia #lambert #jaskier #feel free to treat this as a writing prompt #kaer morhen #kaer morons

[mischievous-thunder]

A shopkeeper: So, what's the occasion?

Geralt: I'm looking for something to cheer up the wife.

The shopkeeper, glancing at Yennefer: Why don't I ask the missus?

Yennefer, pointing at a fuming Jaskier in the distance: Do you think our wife is in the mood for a conversation?

#geralt of rivia #jaskier #yennefer of vengerberg #the witcher imagine #the witcher memes #julian alfred pankratz #geraskier #gerlion #geraskefer #yennskier #incorrect witcher quotes #geralt jaskier imagines #imagine your otp #imagine your ot3 #otp prompts #writing promt #henry cavill #joey batey #anya chalotra #mischievous thunder

[hannibard]

In almost all yennskier fics there's an element of geraskier, them being exes or Jaskier having unrequited feelings for Geralt, and while that's fine and all, I'm desperate for some fics WITHOUT geraskier, with Jaskier having to deal with all the angst that comes with being in love with your best friend's girlfriend/ex bc even if Yennefer loved him back, Jaskier is too loyal to Geralt to ever do anything about it.

Imagine them all traveling together post Voleth Meir and Jaskier and Yennefer desperately trying to hide their feelings while failing a bit more each day.

Imagine the secret lingering looks and gentle touches and maybe a kiss or two when they're left alone and can't hold back.

Imagine Jaskier writting song after song about her and having to lie when Geralt and Ciri ask who it's about. Yennefer would pretend not to know.

Imagine Jaskier going back to his usual manwhore self, sleeping with any willing person around except Yennefer and imagine Yennefer slowly giving in to Geralt's attempts to get back together, hoping her feelings for him will rekindle one day. Imagine the jealousy!

#geraskier is my otp (haven't used that term in years damn) but it doesn't have to be default for every single witcher fic #the witcher #text #geraskefer #yennefer of vengerberg #yennskier #yenskier #jaskier #julian alfred pankratz #dandelion #ramblings #geraskier #geralt of rivia #twn #gifs #prompt #maybe i should write it #or i should finish my wips first lol #the gifs were taken from the yennskier wiki #cause that's a thing that exists #crispy

[panur]

just was thinking how cool it would have been for S2 witcher when Geralt gets told Jaskier is in danger to have a whole episode dedicate to making Geralt terrifying. I’m talking about him leaving normally, reassuring Ciri, thanking Nenneke...and the second he turns around his expression shifts.

cue an episode’s worth of Geralt going full witcher mode and going hunting for Jaskier, tracing his steps through Oxenfurt and leaving the kind of fear/paranoia Batman dreams of behind

I want this man to be lethal and relentless and terrifying, I'm talking witcher 1 game intro Geralt level of ‘this is very other and spoopy’,. Show us what makes Wtchers so uncomfortable for normal humans!

and then you can have the last bit with the reunion and the ‘fuck it’ at the end, Geralt going back to normal mode. it’d cinch it

it's free real estate prompt just tag me so i can read  

#the witcher #witcher netflix #geralt of rivia #geraskier #jaskier #geraltxjaskier #prancing plotbunnies #it's free real estate prompt just tag me so i can read

[help-help-i-need-an-adult]

I think I need a fanfiction where Jaskier is like 30 and an established professor (traveling bard career didnt pan out as planned. He’s an excellent teacher but does still travel some) at Oxenfurt and meets a fresh out of Kaer Morhen 17ish year old Geralt.

And baby Geralt sees this very attractive older man who is nice to him and buys him a drink. Discovers he’s a bard with no self defense training, and takes it upon himself to make sure this very kind very pretty human doesn’t die. Jaskier thinks it’s adorable that Geralt follows him around like a lost puppy. (Young Henry Cavil levels of adorable here)

Young Gerlat who hasn’t had all his hope and sense of being a hero kicked out of him yet having Jaskier “I will stab you if you insult my Witcher” the Bard as a travel companion within months of leaving the keep.

Young Geralt actually openly loving the professor’s songs.

Jaskier practicing lectures he’s planning on Geralt as they travel and Geralt gets the best education as a result.

Jaskier holding Geralt as he cries after not being able to save a child for the first time.

Jaskier being the one with the power that naturally comes with being older and more experienced.

Geralt being a big puppy dog and eagerly trying to get Jaskier’s approval and being very helpful and talking more as a result.

The two idiots falling in love and Jaskier being conflicted about it at first because “you’re just a kid!” “Jaskier, I’m 29.” “A BABY!!”

Geralt having “toss a coin” to help his reputation from day fucking 1.

Jaskier being there to help Geralt deal with the mess that was Renfri in a way that DOESNT result in “Butcher of Blavakin” happening.

Jaskier being Geralt’s first love

Geralt spending his winters trying to figure out how to give Jaskier immortality only to discover he’s already immortal because “wait, you don’t look 60.” “Well you don’t look 50 either! I moisturize. Back off!”

Geralt thinking Jaskier is the most brilliant man he’s ever met when they first meet instead of thinking he’s an idiot.

Jaskier helping Geralt grieve his brothers after the attack. Helping him grieve when he lost his first Roach. Teaching him healthy coping mechanisms and emotion management.

EMOTIONALLY STABLE GERALT

@0dde11eth

#the witcher #jaskier #geraskier #geralt of rivia #geralt #the witcher netflix #geralt x jaskier #witcher #writing prompt #someone please write this #I’m begging you

[headcanonthings]

Maybe it’s just in the fics I’m reading but I really feel like we don’t take enough advantage of Jaskier being a Master of the Seven Liberal Arts. It’s a line that gets thrown out now and then usually just attached when Jaskier is introducing himself and really trying to impress someone. I just want something that explores that part of him a bit more

I also think that it would combine really well with one of those fics that has Jaskier meeting other witchers without Geralt.

Like maybe he writes popular short stories which Eskel adores and runs into him a couple times in the bigger cities doing book signings

Vesemir has a special interest in Astronomy and has a subscription to the Witcher equivalent of a scientific journal where he reads an interesting article by Jaskier and decides to write him with some follow up questions not really expecting a response but gets one and this quickly turns into a years long correspondence

I haven’t fully thought this through so not sure which of the arts he’d be using to meet up with Lambert, Aiden or even Coen (or other witchers depending on how many you want to meet up with him) but do you get what I’m saying?

I also think it would be funny if he’s using a different pseudonym when he meets each witcher so when they all get together and talk about their new friend they don’t realize they’re all talking about the same guy

#if this fic exists please send it to me #witcher #Jaskier #fanfic #fanfic prompt? #geralt of rivia #eskel #vesemir

[threefandomsinatrenchcoat]

Jaskier is a vampire who doesn't want to kill humans so he goes for Geralt as he knows the witcher would survive and heal well

Geralt is a witcher being followed by a fledgeling vampire and very exasperated but unwilling to kill the man for trying to be good

What follows are a lot of fun adventures, Jaskier constantly trying to have a little nibble, Geralt pushing him away like he's Roach looking for a treat in his pockets, friendship, music, and confused other witchers who are unsure why Geralt hasn't gotten rid of the vampire in some way, yet. (Because Geralt is NOT AT ALL fond of his little bat, clearly.)

#writing inspiration #writing prompt #the witcher #geraskier #geralt of rivia #geralt x jaskier #geralt z rivii #geralt of rivera #jaskier #non human jaskier #vampire jaskier #vampires

[spielzeugkaiser]

I am still on board the AU AU where Geralt gets to actually hold a newborn Milek and he cries

[MASTERPOST] awww, oh my, that would be so good!! Geralt absolutely would, and he would be so supportive of Jaskier too!

It's so sad that it doesn't go like that...

listen I have so many feelings about Jaskier giving birth all by himself in this 'verse

#jaskier #geraskier #geralt of rivia #geralt x jaskier #the witcher #geraskier lovechild #omegaverse #cw mpreg #I think there might be a kind inkeepers wife who at least keeps an eye on him but Jaskier has to do it all by himself #poor guy #I know that was supposed to be a fluffy prompt but I really couldn't stop myself there #>:3

[ghostinthelibrarywrites]

for the kiss prompts - a playful kiss to make the other stop rambling + geraskier, pretty please 🥺

Jaskier has never been one to suffer stage fright. Since the first time he gave an impromptu performance at one of his parents’ banquets at the age of seven, he’s soaked up the spotlight at any chance he can get. There’s nothing he delights in more than having a crowded tavern or ballroom watching him with starry eyes, hanging onto his every word. He knows he’s good at what he does, a far cry from the boy who used to get bread pelted at his head while he sang about hags and abortions.

Except that as he stands behind the stage at the Oxenfurt Music Festival, listening to a pair of Nazairi troubadours sing a lovely duet, his insides roil with the same queasy nervousness he’s carried with him all day. He glances over at Geralt to make sure the witcher doesn’t notice. Geralt is leaning against the wall, looking remarkably stoic for a man who has been dragged to a music festival entirely against his will. 

Jaskier can’t let him know how nervous he is, not when Geralt took on two wyverns singlehandedly only three days ago. The fact that Jaskier, who has been a traveling bard for years, who has faced far scarier things than a crowd of onlookers (usually while cowering behind Geralt, but his point stands) has stage fright is too mortifying to admit. Luckily, Jaskier is excellent at keeping his feelings under wraps after years of traveling with his witcher. He’s sure Geralt has no idea.

“You’re nervous,” Geralt says.

Fuckity fuck.

“Nervous?” Jaskier breaks off in a monologue about how he lost the Student Bardic Competition to Valdo Marx his final year due to trickery and biased judging. “I’m not nervous! Merely excited to claim yet another in my long list of accolades.”

“You stink of anxiety.”

Jaskier just manages to resist the urge to sniff himself. “Why, thank you, Geralt. How kind of you to say. And here I thought you liked this new perfume.”

Geralt just stares at him, unimpressed.

Jaskier sighs. “I seem to have come down with the tiniest case of stage fright.”

“Stage fright?” Geralt arches an eyebrow. “But you perform all the time.”

“Not at places like this.” Jaskier waves his hand in the direction of the stage.

“You just told me in detail about all seven times you performed here before. You said you won five times.”

“And it would have been all seven, if Valdo Marx weren’t a cad and a cheat.” Jaskier puffs up in remembered outrage. “But that was the Student Bardic Festival. Everyone expects the acts there to be a little bit shit. Melitele help them, but my classmates didn’t give me much of a run for their money, save for Valdo and Essi. This is the first time I’ve performed in a professional competition.”

“And that’s why you’re nervous.”

“Yes!” Jaskier throws up his hands in exasperation. “I know this isn’t a wyvern or an angry mob, but I don’t want to make a fool of myself in front of thousands of people!”

Geralt gets an expression on his face like he’s valiantly refraining from pointing out that Jaskier doesn’t normally care about making a fool of himself. “You perform all the time.”

“For drunks in taverns who won’t notice if I make a bunk of the pronunciation of an elven ballad or courtiers who wouldn’t know a wrong note if it hit them in the face. Many of these people are trained musicians themselves who have come from all over the Continent to be here today. I have to be perfect.”

“Then be perfect.”

“Geralt.” Jaskier moans and slaps his hands over his eyes. “Have you ever heard of Elsa Svensen?”

“You know I haven’t.”

“Of course you haven’t! She was a cautionary tale when I was at Oxenfurt, a rising star in the bardic circuit until she tried to sing The Six Swans at the Lan Exeter Bardic Festival.” At the blank look on his witcher’s face, Jaskier elaborates. “It’s a famously difficult ballad in Elder. Very long, lots of tricky notes. She butchered it so badly that she was laughed off stage! Suffice to say, there was an unfortunate mispronunciation and she sang a line about the hero committing unspeakable acts with a donkey in front of the entirety of Lan Exeter, including the king and queen. It ended her career. Rumor has it that she changed her name and is now working as a traveling player.”

Geralt doesn’t look suitably horrified, in Jaskier’s opinion.

“A traveling player, Geralt!” Jaskier practically shrieks, which isn’t good for his voice, but he can’t stop himself. “I can’t act! There isn’t a single troupe of traveling players that would have me. I’ll starve. Gods, I should never have let Essi talk me into this. I’m too young to live in disgrace. Can you go out there and tell them that a horrible tragedy has befallen me and an evil witch has stolen my voice? Ooh, yes, say I’ve ruined her for all other men and this is my punishment. Do you think we can find an actual witch in—”

He doesn’t realize Geralt is approaching him until the witcher presses a brief kiss to his lips.

Jaskier blinks, surprised. Geralt isn’t one for displays of affection where anyone else might see. “What are you—”

Geralt kisses him again. Jaskier can feel the curl of his lips.

“Geralt, this is—”

Another kiss, this one accompanied by Geralt nipping at his lower lip.

“Geralt,” Jaskier says through another kiss. “Are you trying to distract me?”

“Trying to shut you up.”

“How dare—”

Geralt kisses him again. “You were working yourself up.”

Jaskier opens his mouth to protest, then realizes he was just plotting to find an actual witch to steal his voice in order to get out of a performance. Perhaps Geralt has a point. “Right.”

“You know Elder too well to accidentally sing about donkeys. And if you do manage to fuck up so badly that you ruin your career, I won’t let you starve.”

Jaskier melts into him. “Geralt, that’s the sweetest—”

“Because you’re right, you’d be a shit traveling player.” Geralt’s lips quirk.

“You—”

Geralt kisses him again, slow and sweet, and Jaskier feels the last bit of tension drain out of him.

“Jaskier the Bard!” a woman’s voice calls from the stage. “Also known as the Dandelion!”

“That’s you.” Geralt pushes him towards the stage. “You’ll do great, Jask.”

Jaskier can’t help but smile at him. “How can I not, after a sweet pep talk like that?”

“Hm. Probably not as great as Valdo Marx did earlier.” A full-on smile spreads over Geralt’s face at Jaskier’s outrage. “But we’ll see.”

And just for that, Jaskier gives the best damn performance of his life. Which is probably what Geralt intended, the terrible man.

***

Tag list: @kueble @mollymawkwrites @feral-jaskier @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde @dawnofbards @thisislisa @tsukiwolf42 @mosaicscale @rockysstupidity @fontegagrilledcheese @kuripon @help-i-need-a-cool-username @julek @flowercrown-bard @eveljerome

Kiss prompts

#the witcher #twn #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #ghost's writing #prompt fills

[finleycannotdraw]

Okay I have to ask. Kisses on the jaw? Pretty please?

39) jaw kisses

they’re sweet and it’s everything to me

#geraskier art prompts #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #finley cannot draw #the witcher #the witcher fanart #geraskier fanart #the witcher netflix #THEYRE DEAR TO ME #man I’ve had such bad art block recently :( #hopefully I’ll be able to finish the prompts I’ve still got in my inbox soon!!

[pokeberry5]

for the outfit prompts, yennefer in 1D or jaskier in 1C?

(1D and 1C) this was the first thing i thought of:

#i feel like this has already been done but I had to #yennskier #yennefer of vengerberg #jaskier #the witcher #prompts #sart #THANK YOU for letting me draw them!! #also!! i realized too late that 1d was a skirt and I had already committed

[jaskiercommabard]

Hi can I request “Let me do this, please.” for geraskier please and thanks 💛

I'm sorry this took so long! I am a slow writer on a good day, and I was planning on doing like a 300 word drabble but Geralt said NO. 2500 words or I feed you to Roach

Read on AO3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Geralt, help me, please,” Jaskier screams. 

Not Jaskier.

It is not Jaskier, but that doesn’t keep the blood from rushing in Geralt’s ears as he hunts the thing that has his voice. 

Jaskier is safe, back at the inn - probably sleeping by now, or else terrorizing the pretty barmaid Geralt had left him flirting with. He’s safe, far away from this barren, gore-filled clearing, unless-

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have followed you.”

The voice is thick with tears, wobbling pitifully. The cries continue, ricocheting mercilessly through the forest. 

“I’m afraid.”

“Don’t leave me.”

“Geralt, Geralt. I’m here.”

He is not here. The only trace of Jaskier comes from the strip of thick linen blocking Geralt’s vision, the barest memory of lemongrass and cinnamon hitting the air when he tugs the fabric more securely over his eyes. Beneath it, only rot. 

Geralt turns in a slow circle, blade raised and ready to strike. He’s spent all day tracking the location of a nightwraith that has been calling young men to their deaths in the forest, and now the moon is high. Geralt is not a young man, so he is relieved to find - in a stroke of his peculiar sort of luck - that the nightwraith isn’t overly particular about which hearts it rips out and leaves at the edge of town. 

“There you are,” it coos, the tone familiar and melodic. “I tried so hard to find you.”

It’s a perfect mockery of relief and exhaustion, the same sigh that greets him after a long day riding or a long night performing, and it’s close. Its feet fall just like Jaskier’s, a little heavier on his right side where his hip is starting to give him trouble - Geralt can almost see the unevenly worn soles of his boots crunching toward him through the blanket of leaves on the ground.

It's late enough in autumn that Jaskier would be grousing about the cold, and as soon as the thought crosses his mind, the creature's teeth begin to chatter.

“There’s something out here. I’m frightened. Why won’t you help me?”

Closer, now. Close enough for Geralt to lunge at it, and the gasp that falls into the quiet air when his sword finds the creature’s flesh belongs to Jaskier, too. 

The strike falls short of a killing blow, thrust out blindly as it is, and does little more than confuse and enrage it. Soon the voices are overlapping, shrieking above him, losing their soft edge. Vicious wind tears around him and he’s caught in a squall of Jaskier weeping, Jaskier laughing, Jaskier howling in pain. It is behind him and before him, above him and around him, oppressive, inescapable. He has no choice but to rip the fabric from his eyes and-

And there is Jaskier, where Geralt knew he would be, kneeling in the dirt with trembling hands pressed into his side. A gruesome stain slips out from beneath his fingers, so similar to the red of his doublet that it only makes the fabric darker, and a matching ribbon of it falls from his mouth. 

It’s a nightmare Geralt has woken from a thousand times, Jaskier all blue and pink and red, too red at the end of his own sword.

"Why?" the thing mouths, but it's lost, crackling out somewhere in the air instead of falling from his lips. The creature wields his voice like a weapon as it loses control, twisting that sweet tenor into something that stings his ears. 

The taste of blood coats Geralt’s mouth and fills his nose, real and hot and nauseating. It's a strong illusion, built from grief and malice, and it has to end, now, before he cracks beneath the weight of it. He has no choice but to sprint past Jaskier to reach the corpse on the other side of the clearing, but even his enhanced speed is no match for a wraith this powerful. Fingers colder than ice wrap around his ankle and he is flung like a doll to the ground, knees singing with pain as they crash into the earth.

“Let me do this,” he shouts over the roaring wind, twisting back to face the wraith. He’s foolish for it, maybe, but it’s easier to argue with a monster when it wears a face he squabbles with a hundred times before breakfast most days. “Please. Let me help you!” 

For a moment, the frigid hand on him only tightens. It’s enough to make his bones creak, but then Jaskier’s face softens, rippling out from the center. That familiar mop of messy hair turns golden, tumbling easily over a set of round, narrow shoulders. Finally, blue eyes turn maple brown - upturned and mournful, a perfect match to the farmer who had begged Geralt to find his missing daughter. 

They had looked just like hers, watery and wide, when the man chased him down outside the alderman's hut. Find my girl, he had pleaded, pressing a stack of old coins into Geralt’s palm. Bring her home, however you can.

The flickery image of the girl nods once, just the barest dip of her chin as she releases his ankle. It’s enough for Geralt to lurch away, extending his hand to cast Igni over the too-small body decaying in the dry grass beside them. For a moment, above the rot and char and heat, the air is washed out with a breeze of sweet hay and lilies, and then she is gone. 

What’s left behind is a maelstrom of untamed rage and malice, once more with Jaskier’s face, flickering now as the illusion struggles to hold itself together. Something sick and sharp blooms in Geralt’s throat, but he raises his sword anyway. He wavers, and the wraith smiles with his friend’s mouth. It’s all wrong - all sharp, dripping teeth jutting out from endless black, and that is just enough to snap Geralt back to focus. 

The wraith shrieks, the witcher springs. It still has Jaskier’s tears and Jaskier’s hands and Jaskier’s sweet, wide eyes when it dies on Geralt’s sword.

**

The pleasant hum coming from the warmly lit hall of the Merry Magpie rises when Geralt stalks in the front door, its patrons ruffling like rattled hens at the sight of him. He forgoes the bar entirely - he’ll collect his coin from the alderman and deliver it along with a box of ashes to the farmer in the morning. Tonight, he’ll tend to the cold spike of grief and guilt settled in his own chest.

He can’t shake his unease as he climbs the stairs to the shadowy upper floor of the inn - it rolls around in his gut, sends his shoulders bunched halfway to his ears. It’s irrational, he knows, but the feeling only winds itself more tightly around his spine when he shoves open the door to their shared room and finds it empty. 

Geralt swallows around the sharp thing creeping higher into his throat. The bard isn’t far, not with his lute and songsheets strewn about the bed. He’s just as likely to be in a room around the corner with that freckled barmaid, or out behind the inn with the stableman he’d been making eyes at all day, or-

“In here, Geralt!”

In his panic, he’d missed the thick humidity of the room and the scent of Jaskier’s soap, missed the familiar tick of his heart beating quarter-time against Geralt’s own. 

“That is you, Geralt?” he continues, calling from behind the dressing screen in the corner of the room. “You’d better be Geralt, or you’ll have some explaining to do to my outrageously large and occasionally violent very best friend in the whole wide world-”

His voice swings up an octave when he turns to find the witcher only a few paces from him.

“Merciful gods, witcher, you really have to stop doing that. It’s…unnerving. I am unnerved. Has anyone ever told you you’re unnerving?”

Jaskier has. Frequently, but Geralt is so caught up in staring at his throat working, whole and unhurt, that he doesn’t answer. 

“Fuck. Are you alright?” Jaskier asks as he rounds the steaming basin in the center of the room to close the space between them. His tone is tempered now, low and even, the way it is when he soothes Roach while Geralt picks pebbles out of her shoes. Geralt wets his lips but only nods, and careful hands rise up to pet him over anyway. 

There’s a peculiar crease in his brow, a dimple beside his frowning mouth that, surely, no creature could ever mimic. It only deepens as he works away the armor to uncover Geralt piece by piece, unable to find any visible injury. The help only slows him down, really, but Jaskier is warm and real and his waist fits neatly into Geralt’s palm where his hand has drifted, so he lets himself be fussed over. 

The bard is chirping away as he always is when the thorns start to prick at Geralt’s stomach again.

“Jaskier,” he tries to command, but it comes out strangled, “I need you to stop talking.” 

The bard squawks indignantly, swatting at his shoulder where he’s masterfully knocking loose a pauldron that needs its latch replaced.

“You are so rude, do you know? You’re terrible to me.” 

“Jask. Stop.” 

Either Jaskier hears the plea he’s trying to swallow, or Geralt is bleeding out on the forest floor and hallucinating, because he snaps his mouth shut obediently and steps back. That’s wrong, that’s worse, so Geralt tightens the hand on his waist to draw him back into the circle of his arms. 

He presses his face into the space beneath Jaskier’s jaw, because he wants to, and because he can’t help himself. His other hand drifts into the gently curling hair at the nape of Jaskier’s neck, damp with sweat and steam from the bath slowly cooling beside them. He startles slightly at the touch, but Geralt only noses in further. 

After what has been only a moment for Geralt but certainly a small eternity for the bard, he speaks softly into the top of Geralt’s head.

“Just tell me what’s wrong, dear. Please.” 

“It had your voice,” he whispers. Jaskier scoffs indignantly, but it’s missing some of his usual bluster. 

“I can assure you, nothing and no one on this Continent has my-” 

He cuts himself off, tensing in Geralt’s hold as the words hang above them.

Luring our men into the forest, the innkeeper's wife had said. They all heard it - their wives, lovers, calling to them in the night. It drove them mad, ripped their hearts out.

“It had my voice.”

He understands, and the meaning is cutting through the air like an arrow let loose too soon, flying outside Geralt's control.

“And you had to…?” Jaskier grimaces, all blunt teeth, and leans back to drag a thumb across his throat. Geralt nods tightly, follows the motion with his eyes and then with the tips of his own fingers. That familiar sparrow-heart pulse jumps up to meet his touch in the same soft and perfect spot where Geralt had plunged his sword. 

“Oh, love,” he breathes, and it twists in Geralt's stomach like a fist. He slides his eyes away to track a bead of sweat falling from Jaskier's temple, and he can smell it - lemongrass and cinnamon, salt-sweet skin. No copper, no decay. 

Though his blood moves too slowly for it to show, Geralt feels the flush high in his cheeks anyway, where it might blossom on a human's face - where it does begin to blossom on Jaskier's. It pricks strangely beneath his eyes, makes his tongue slow and clumsy. 

“Did you know?”

A startled noise bubbles out of Jaskier as he meets Geralt’s gaze, but his eyes are fond and soft, wide with something that looks like wonder. Geralt leans into the tender brush of knuckles across his cheek, forgetting for a moment why he ever stopped himself before.

“That you love me?” He laughs, high and soft and musical. It's unbearable. “I suspected. Did you?”

The answer sits on his tongue like the last bite of an apple tart, lives in his throat like a shared skin of good wine, scratches at his chest like an ancient shirt stitched together by a musician's cautious hands.

“I must have. I-” he shakes his head as if the right words might tumble out of him. Jaskier only sighs, an easy smile stuck on his face as he raises his palm to Geralt's cheek. It's the same look he has when they meet each other on the road after a season apart. 

He can’t reconcile the smile and the screaming, the image of the wraith still exploding like a bomb behind his eyelids.

"I'm sorry," he says, nonsensically. His thumb is back at the hollow of Jaskier's throat.

"For what?"

"I hurt you." 

I cut you down as you begged me not to. As you cried out for me to help you. What does that make me?

"Show me," he whispers, just loud enough to hear over the peculiar tangle of their heartbeats. There is an unfamiliar look on his face, something curious and patient, something that makes him sweat even as the room is cooling. 

Geralt swallows hard, presses his thumb into the top of Jaskier's throat, dragging it down until it meets the loosely gathered laces of his chemise. Jaskier's hands fly up to untie them, slowly exposing each precious inch of skin that had been rent and torn by the blade. Instead of steel, Geralt pulls gooseflesh along in his wake. It blooms along with the sweetly creeping flush that spreads across Jaskier's collarbones - blood brought to surface by his hand, again, so different this time.

Geralt continues his path over Jaskier's breastbone, across the dip between his ribs, until he reaches the spot above Jaskier's navel where his sword had struck its final blow. He follows the path again with the flat of his hand, up over a rabbiting heart until his palm rests in its place against Jaskier's neck. His breaths have gone thin and quick, the way they did when he was dying. 

He's not dying, now - no, Jaskier is very much alive when he closes the meager space between them. He's alive when he tips their foreheads together, and Geralt wonders how he could ever have been fooled, seeing this face without the crinkles near his eyes and the easy flush in his cheeks. He’s so alive when their lips brush and it’s all sweet and hot, no ash left in the breath they share.

Geralt knows what Jaskier sounds like with steel in his throat, now, what he sounds like drowning in his own blood. He’ll never unlearn it. It's only fair, he decides, that he should know what Jaskier sounds like when his lips find that same place, when his tongue follows.

#Soooo this for sure got away from me lolol #Thank you so much for the prompt I hope this is okay!!!!! #Geralt x Jaskier #geraskier #geraskier fic #witcher fic #little fics #fic prompt #my brain does weird things when I ask it to write