#gereskel

[keirametzbrassknuckles]

I think that Gereskel is so special because (to me) it is absolutely and 100% bound by canon. There are ways to fudge it in AUs but it always seems to fit strangely. They must be each other's entire cycle of firsts: first friend, first person besides your mum to see you cry, first person to hear you wake screaming at night and not hate you, first person you lose and grieve and mourn while they do the same for you. They're the empty space inside each other. They've both held funerals for the other. They're the last person on earth to know what color the other's eyes were before they lost them to the mutations. They're the almost and the maybe and the maybe again but without the benefit of time.

It's about the ache and the almost and the anyway and the maybe still. All that hope and all that centuries-long lack of the same. There will never be another like that even if there are others. You never forget your first best friend, your first love; you never forget your twin and you never stop loving them.

[parkranger-monster-fucker]

Please someone help me find a fic

Jaskier is fae I'm p sure and goes to kaer morhen with Geralt.

Geralt and Eskel ask him to help make gifts for each other, and Jaskier's dying inside bc he loves them and wants them to be happy.

Jaskier goes and makes them a picnic but goes into heat and gets found by a rotfiend I'm p sure, and Lambert tells them to get their heads out of their asses

[blackberrywars]

For the Flash Fic Fest, could I request a Witchers-are-supersoldiers Modern/Sci-fi Secret-Mission AU?

Prompt would be: “Geralt has seen many, many things in his very, very long lifetime. He has never, as his partner Jaskier points out, seen Agent Eskel dance a waltz.”

Please have as much freedom with it as you’d like

EDIT: Available on AO3 and now with beautiful, spectacular art by @whyzowl

—  —   —   —   —   —   —   —   —   —   —   —   —   —   —   —   —   —   —

Geralt has seen many, many things in his very, very long lifetime. He has never, as his partner Jaskier points out, champagne glass tipped just so, seen Agent Eskel dance a waltz.

Maybe he shouldn’t be surprised. Geralt has seen Eskel dance in a dozen other ways: bouncing along to the hum of an army radio, two-stepping on the beat of a vinyl record, bopping his head to the tunes of a digital age. Even when they’re on duty, Eskel has never danced like this, at least not where Geralt could see it. Most of their relevant assignments involve dark clubs with overwhelmingly loud bass speakers, and the kind of dancing he does in those…… Geralt already knows damn well how Eskel can thrust his hips. So does most of the club, by the time he’s through. So he shouldn’t be surprised. He wouldn’t be, if only Eskel weren’t so obviously good at it.

Across the ballroom, the man dances like a high-society socialite instead of a once-redneck soldier. His long legs follow through every step, turn, and reversal. Every turn emphasizes the broad expanse of his shoulders as he spins his partner away and back again. Each flourish raises the back of his red waistcoat, exposing the thick, round curve of his ass. But even if he didn’t have all the features Geralt has spent so long admiring, Eskel’s grace nearly topples him from the little alcove he and Jaskier had escaped to, ostensibly, have sex and definitely not spy on their fellow agent. The big Wolf moves with a fluid elegance he’d never had when fully human, in complete control of every step. He supports every pace of waltz, turns his partners’ mistakes into embellishments, and manages to make even a simple box step look like ballet.

He switches partners every other minute, always with a new pair of arms draped around him. Every single one is dressed for the theme: something vaguely renaissance, with all the accompanying ostentation, but all Geralt can focus on is how they touch Eskel. A dark-skinned hand nestles against his gloved one, pale fingers rest on his muscled arms, a diamond bracelet shines against his billowy white sleeves. None of them are the target, but Geralt catalogues them anyway. There’s Marizia Izle Álvo, an heiress with three paramours and a fortune built on cryptocurrency. Julienne Moulak, a biomedical mogul whose empire of steel and blood extended back before even Geralt’s lifetime. Neseyo Zeftir, a stunning beauty who had won several global pageants with her generous curves and penchant for environmental philanthropy.

They all touch Eskel with casual, flirtatious hands. They look at him, and even the shyest ones still have a hunger that Geralt can nearly smell, practically peeling Eskel out of his tight leather pants. The band keeps playing —cellos and drums and flutes and trumpets— but Geralt can barely hear them, not when another social-climber stumbles into Eskel, tucking his fingers into that deep collar, running through the brush of coarse chest hair. Not when a handsome woman steals him away for another waltz without so much as a by-your-leave.

Geralt takes a deep breath.

And another.

And one more.

None of them seem to work, and he welcomes the press of Jaskier’s cool hand in the center of his back. It doesn’t make his already uncomfortable pants feel any less tight, but it does make him turn away from the spectacle for a moment to see Jaskier’s own expression. He looks like he wants to eat Eskel alive. Geralt must look the same. In the space of another breath, Jaskier downs the rest of his champagne, setting the glass down just a bit too deliberately.

“My darling man…” Jaskier turns to him, eyes enormous, “How would you feel about retrieving Don Juan down there and cutting this night short? Lambert already has the information we need.”

“Agent Jaskier, that would be highly unprofessional.”

“Who’s gonna notice? Come on. For our part, we kept the target distracted, and I want to go home. Not that my night hasn’t been lovely, but I think I drank too much champagne. And my feet might hurt. And I might spill wine on these beautiful silk tights.”

“Point taken.”

“No, really. All manner of ailments and accidents could occur where we all have to go home. Immediately.”

Geralt laughs under his breath and turns away to the exit, but Jaskier plasters himself to his back, whispering in his ear.

“Don’t trip.”

Don’t trip. Instinctively, Geralt wanted to bristle and protest: who was he, that socialite with his stupid ploy to fall into Eskel’s strong arms? But he could barely register his legs underneath him as they walked him back down the staircase and into the ballroom, could barely control the movements of his eyes as they searched the floor for a head of dark hair and broad shoulders. He scans the floor and comes up short. By the east wall, he sees Julienne throwing back a heaping glass of red wine. Closer to the entrance forum, he sees the handsome lady dancing just as gracefully as before, but not with Eskel. Looking back at the stairs, the countess is sneaking away with a gorgeous blonde at her heels. He climbs back onto the first step, hoping for a better view when a familiar hand taps his shoulder.

Geralt turns, and there is Eskel. Eskel with his hair slicked back to show his flushed face, his smile made coy by the gap where his fangs shine through. Eskel in expensive, tailored clothes, golden lapels framing a deep gash, showing the obscene planes of his collarbones and plush chest. Eskel in waltzing shoes. Eskel, who has his hand outstretched and his torso bowed like a gentleman. Eskel with his low, soft voice —Dance with me, Wolf.

Geralt trips.

But Eskel catches him, pulling him close for an especially slow number. And while Geralt doesn’t know a damn thing about waltzing, Eskel apparently does, and every step feels effortless with those gloved hands around his waist and wrist. Jaskier, and all the promises waiting at home, can wait. At least for one waltz.

—  —   —   —   —   —   —   —   —   —   —   —   —   —   —   —   —   —   —

I really hope this meets your expectations @whyzowl it was super fun to work on, even if it took me a while. I know I didn’t focus too much on their supposed mission, but seeing your drawing Eskel’s outfit here, I couldn’t not make Geralt’s feelings about it a focal point.

[hbfengxi]

and you’ll save all your dirtiest jokes for me // and at every table, i’ll save you a seat // lover

[the-butch-of-blaviken]

Chapter: 1/?

Fandom: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)

Rating: T

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationship: Lambert & Eskel, Aiden/Lambert/Keira Metz, Eskel/Geralt of Rivia

Additional tags: Post-The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt, Character Study, siblings dynamics, Grief/Mourning, Eskel has eldest child syndrome, I Shook A Witcher And Intergenerational Trauma Fell Out (The Witcher), Drinking, Depressed Eskel (The Witcher), brothers helping each other through their trauma, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

Summary:

An instinct he can't name urges Lambert to go back to Kaer Morhen one last time, months after Vesemir's death. He should know better: there's nothing to go back to now, only ghosts and memories. When he gets there, he finds that there is indeed a ghost haunting the halls of the old keep — but maybe he can bring this one back among the living.

At least this time he's not alone.

Happy New Year! I'm tired of sitting on this wip so as a new year resolution, I decided to finally post the first chapter as a way to force myself to commit to it. It's far from perfect but I wrote this more than a year ago and I'm sick of editing it.

(Just a heads-up: Geralt doesn't actually appear in this until the last chapter(s), but his relationship with Eskel is heavily discussed by the characters throughout the fic, which is why I'm tagging this as Eskel/Geralt.)

[witchertits]

WitcherTits Fic Directory! ⚔️

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And when you lie there awake / Every night love I soar T4T Geralt/Jaskier, E, 2.5k. Is it gay to fuck your clone? Is it gay to watch your best bro fuck their clone? NX canon, post-Blood-Origin. Every Night I Hear Them Howling T4T4T Geralt/Jaskier/Eskel, E, 8k. Jaskier is working on his latest novel and they fuck in the Kaer Morhen library. Wet (Come Take a Dive) T4T Eskel/Geralt, E, 4k. Improper use of witcher potions. The boys are on a hunt and things get wetter than anticipated. You Ain't a Drug But You Get Me So High Geralt/Jaskier getting together + S2 fix-it, M, 6k. 420 fic! Jaskier isn't settling in to Kaer Morhen and Geralt's brothers set out to make it right. Now with art from @aghxst One of my Favorite Pastimes Trans Geralt/Dandelion, M, 4k. Assassins of Kings era, Geralt saves Dandelion from certain death in Flotsam. Idiots in love. We're Drunk but Drinking, Sunk but Sinking Yennefer & Geralt TW3 djinn breakup fic but make it soft, G, 2k.

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If we’re mutuals, I’m open to requests to beta. Send me a message if you need an AO3 invite code! 💕

[ooksaidthelibrarian]

Eskel had a wild suspicion where Geralt was headed, but he was far from sure. The only thing he knew was that Geralt was not headed to some wine tasting with Count Whatshisname.  Geralt has a secret, and Eskel wants to know

A Kind of Magic

Fandom: Witcher (Video Games) Rating: G Words: 1525

Read it on AO3

Written for Witcher Wheel of the Year 2023, the prompt was Theatre

[julek]

Julek, hi! #59 on the kissing prompts for Gerskel, if it takes your fancy.

#59. kissing your lover's wounds after having bandaged them up read on ao3

The sun is dipping low, melting into the hills that shimmer gold against the pale pink sky. The vineyard stretches across the fields like a soft blanket, embroidered in dark greens and rich browns, covering the earth with ease. A gentle breeze rolls in, a sign of the impending autumn days that will follow, ruffling the old willow and its leaves, fighting to hold on a little longer. 

Geralt watches it all from his chair on the porch, much like he does every afternoon. 

There's something about life in the countryside that makes him feel grounded; waking up with the sun every day and going on about his routine feels different than it did when he walked the Path, somehow. There's no sense of extreme urgency, no feeling of dread as he reaches the larger cities, not a shadow of doubt or question as to whether he'll find refuge before winter swallows the roads, winding and tiresome as they grow. None of that, no — here he feels safe, knowing there'll be food on his table every morning and a warm bed every evening, there to greet him, to feed him, to shelter him. He feels connected, both to the earth and to himself, his own life, his own body. His very soul, if Dandelion was right about any of that. 

He wonders if it's what he was supposed to feel like, all those years; if, by chance, retirement meant reaching what his mentors had taught him would only ever be found in the throes of duty. 

The irony of it makes him smile. 

"Deep in thought, Wolf?" 

Geralt turns, even though he heard him coming from a mile away. Eskel stands at his side with a small smile, all broad lines and soft features, and Geralt allows himself to take him in for a little while.

Eskel makes him feel grounded, too. Standing there in his work clothes (so different from his armor, which he hung up some time ago, and only comes out every few months), worn and well-loved, his brow shining with sweat. His hair falling in his eyes as he looks down at Geralt, because he'll never let go of his juvenile hairstyle, no matter how much Geralt teases him for it. His skin glowing golden brown in the dying sunlight, tanned from weeks of working the fields, sunrise to sundown. His scars, glowing light pink like ridges drawn on the land right after the harvest, healed and forgiven.

"I am," Geralt replies, leaning down to grab the small wooden box where they keep their healing supplies. "Come here and show me your arm." 

Eskel clicks his tongue in protest but goes anyway, pulling a chair next to him. He injured himself working on the fields a day before, a too-sharp sickle and a thoughtless movement resulting in a big gash on his forearm, which Geralt lovingly and long-sufferingly stitched up and bandaged, after, of course, lecturing his lover on his carelessness. 

“It’s fine,” he says, even as he extends his arm so Geralt can unwrap the bandage, dirty and damp with sweat. “It’s healing normal.”

“Hmm.”

The wound is, as Eskel put it, healing correctly. After all, Geralt would be embarrassed to call his needlework sloppy, and Eskel, being the Witcher that he is, withstood the stitching with calm and grace. There’s a little blood dotting the cut, and Geralt dabs it away gently with a cloth, cleaning the wound thoroughly. 

Part of him knows he’s, perhaps, overreacting. It is a small wound, after all, clean-cut and simple, and Eskel could care for it on his own. But there’s no need for it, now, he thinks as he dips the cloth in antiseptic. He can be gentle, can wash away the pain with his hands now, can bring relief and comfort to the one he loves. 

Even if there are no more gaping wounds from a kikimora, no more deep gashes from a griffin’s talons, no more arachas bites to be endured. 

Even if it is just a scratch to the skin, he wants to tend to it. 

He can take his time.

Eskel is quiet beside him as he works. He must know, indulging Geralt like this. Perhaps he has the same thoughts, every once in a while. Perhaps he, too, thinks life is precious every time he holds it in his hands. 

Geralt lets the injured arm rest on his lap for a moment, reaching down to grab some spare bandages and a small pair of scissors. Slowly, he starts wrapping Eskel’s forearm with the clean linen, making sure it’s not too tight nor too loose, covering the wound until no red skin can peek out and risk an infection. 

He looks up at Eskel when he’s done, and without a word, brings his hand to his lips, pressing a small kiss into his skin. 

“All done,” he murmurs, Eskel’s eyes warm like honey on his. “You may return to your tomfoolery now, old man.”

“Thank you kindly.” A grin, toothy and wide. “However could I repay you?”

The sun is almost gone all the way now, the last of sunlight flickering through the trees. 

Geralt looks at their joined hands, and squeezes. 

“Sit with me a while.”

And it’s easy, like nothing’s ever been. Like he believed nothing should ever be. 

“That,” Eskel says, moving his chair a little closer with an old-man groan Geralt will tease him about later, “I can do.”

It's easy.

[lenalawlipop]

Chapters: 1/7 Fandom: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion/Lambert, Eskel/Jaskier | Dandelion, Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion Characters: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion, Vesemir (The Witcher), Lambert (The Witcher), Eskel (The Witcher) Additional Tags: Facials, Beards (Facial Hair), Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Bathing/Washing, Kaer Morhen, Bath Houses, Hot Springs & Onsen, Slow Build, Romantic Jaskier | Dandelion, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Emotional Labor, Emotional Baggage, Dry Humping, Oral Sex, Emotional Sex, Scenting, Scent Kink, Come Eating, Semi-Public Sex, Rimming, Voyeurism, Exhibitionism, Thirsty For Intimacy, Touch-Starved, Explicit Consent, Emotional Slow Burn, Not Canon Compliant, Porn with Feelings, Polyamory, Explicit Sexual Content, Canon-typical bathing, Witchersexual Jaskier | Dandelion, Kaer Morhen's Fanon Hot Springs (The Witcher) Series: Part 1 of [PODFIC] An exaltation of wolves - round_robin Summary:

round_robin's summary:

“Come to Kaer Morhen with me,” Geralt mumbled against Jaskier's neck. “Next winter, come with me.” He sat up, hoping Jaskier might see the earnest request in his eyes.

Podfic of Soap, and the Scents of Home by @round--robin

Length (estimated): around 3,5 hours

Archive-locked since the original fic is, too

[witch-and-her-witcher]

geskel + 6 + 33 + 68

bodyguards + feelings denial + misunderstandings | T | knight!geralt

Sir Geralt Roger Eric du Haute-Bellegarde, White Wolf, and Right Hand of Queen Meve of Lyria and Rivia is seeing red as he storms from the throne room. He has just been informed that the Witcher Eskel has been hired to "better service the Queen."

"Geralt."

The steady, disinterested tone registers and in the next breath Geralt has whipped back around on his boot heels, court appropriate cape snapping with his movements.

"It's Sir Geralt to you, Witcher," he grounds out from a clenched jaw, prideful anger spearing him forward until he has the Witcher backed against the darkened hall's wall. "I don't know how you managed to weasel your way into court and the Queen's graces, but if you intend to black mail me -"

"It's a curse threatening Queen Meve," Eskel cuts him off. His expression is no longer disinterested, but it isn't fear that lights those amber eyes as they drift down to assess the lack of space between them and then back up to Geralt's face. "I pieced it together after you left the inn."

Geralt searches the Witcher's face for dishonesty, a hint of a lie. His brows knit together, unwilling to accept he jumped to the wrong conclusion. "Why didn't you come directly to me with that information then?"

"I wasn't given a choice when I arrived, some courtier or whoever brought me to the Queen right away." Now, Eskel's eyes dart to the side, his low voice quieter than before. "Besides, I wasn't sure if you wanted to see me after ..."

After Geralt drunkenly spilled his frustrations with the current threat to his lord's life he couldn't get a handle on to the kind eyed Witcher at the inn. After he then let Eskel fuck him into the early morning hours, but parted with threat to his life never to breathe a word of what had happened once sobriety and the weight of Geralt's indiscretions had hit in the morning light.

The facade of the White Wolf returns, blood cooling in the face of his own mismanagement of the situation, past and present. Eskel's kind eyes from that night return to meet his gaze as Geralt steps back. Internally, his mind is ablaze with how to dig himself out of the hole he continues to shovel deeper, but his tongue knows the proper response suited of the Right Hand.

"I apologize, I was too hasty in my conclusions. Your expertise cannot be dismissed because of my own ... Follies. If the Queen has deemed your service necessary, you must have produced ample evidence." The intensity of Eskel's gaze is stirring something in the pit of his stomach Geralt doesn't want to face. "Let us reconvene once you've had time to part take in whatever hospitality you require."

"Geralt -"

"I must take my leave, I will send a squire for you when I'm ready." Geralt spins on his heels once more and carries himself as quickly down the hall as manageable in a professional capacity.

Yes, he'll send a squire for Eskel once he's had time to retreat to his chambers and - relieve himself, of the complicated entanglements coursing through his veins and pooling in an indiscrete location. Geralt will not, cannot, allow himself to make the same missteps again.

---

Ah, I'm in love with this concept and want to write so much more of it. 😍 Thank you, Maureen, for the prompt!

Feel free to request more from the trope writing machine meme ~

[keirametzbrassknuckles]

Gereskel is just like... you're my best friend, you're my brother, you're me and I'm you. You know what my insides look like, you know what color my soul is, and you know what my heart sounds like when it stops. You've taken everything from me and I hate you for it even though gave it to you in the first place knowing you would take it away. I can't think about you with someone else without it making me sick but also I want you to be happy more than I want my own survival. You will go and I will stay and in the end only one of us will matter to the world but it's alright because I felt like someone when you loved me and it was enough.

Except it wasn't.

But I'll still wait. I'll keep the light on. I'll keep the hearth warm and the beer cold. Come back whenever you want.

It's okay.

[dreamingwitcher]

Fic rec!

soooooo I was browsing fanfic earlier today and came across this coffe shop Gereskel AU by @justhereforeskel ! This fic is particularly notable for its in-universe coffee shop and Eskels gentle and lovingly-detailed rumination over the past. If any of this sounds good to you I recommend you go check it out!

[deathsdaisy]

Chapters: 1/? Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Eskel/Jaskier | Dandelion, Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion Tags: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion, Eskel (The Witcher), Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Self-Hatred, Self-Esteem Issues, Angst with a Happy Ending, Polyamory, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Soft Jaskier | Dandelion, They all need a hug, Post-Canon, Post-Season/Series 02, Past Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

After getting back to Kaer Morhen Geralt feels like he is responsible for the health and well being of those around him. Ciri has closed herself off after Voleth Meir dug into her mind. Eskel shuts himself away in the belief that he could kill anyone at any moment. Jaskier isn't eating enough, but Geralt can't seem to get close enough to figure out why. And Eskel nearly dying sends the rest of the wolves into a panic almost rivaling the sacking. He has choices and a plan, but when he realises he's not the only one that can be leaned on Geralt starts to question his use, his ability to speak, and why he's doing any of this if they don't need him. When he over hears Eskel and Jaskier his world view is cemented into place. Those he once had are gone to him. They don't exactly agree.

(Look, this is gunna be sad, then sadder, before the comfort pops up.) ALSO LISTEN TO THE PODFIC BY THE AMAZING ROSESZAIN !!!

[hbfengxi]

throw the ghost/soap girlies a medieval fantasy bone and watch them write a version of geralt/eskel

[artcake]

Meeting by chance on the Path on a warm summer day...

(inspired by a line from @inexplicifics about geralt and eskel being like the sun and the moon)

[witcherficwriters]