#if you are an ass to her eskel will rip into you

[mrsarnasdelicious]

Alright, Yous asked for this - PART TWO

So, the list of all my drafts doesn't fit in one part...

Riding the Beasts SCP 682 smut CW: Monsterfucking

Sihtric AU-arama Just all osrts of Sihtric AUs, in a long, big list.

Some good ass edging Edging Modern!Sihtric, straight up smut

I'll Be Your Prize [Finan x Sihtric] Uhtred tells Finan he can ask for the thing he wants most, so Finan asks for Sihtric.

The Things We Do With Power - I The Boys fic, mild fix it, predominantly wicked smut.

A very old promise Once Upon the beginning of my blog, I promised to write a certain poly smut thing, so here goes nothing.

All About A Gag Sihtric x Finan x Osfert. Sihtric fakes a gag and Finan is not having it.

Domestic - Lan Mandragoran Lan x Reader, being cute.

One Big Bed Poly Wheel of Time smut. Rand is a slut in this one.

The Pantsident Mark tore his pants. Mark x Reader smut

A Long Drive [Marnas] Mark rips his pants and Arnas makes full use of the situation.

Orgasm Desperation - Stephen Colley Stephen x Reader, with reader making Stephen beg for it.

BoB Sexarama Shameless, plotless smut headcanons.

A3 - Throuple Aethelflead x Aldhelm x Aethelred headcanons

BoB Poly Family BS You get involved with Finan, Sihtric and Osferth and raise children with them. Modern verse, headcanon list

Band of Bebbanburgh - XII - Getting Ink Done Uhtred, Osferth, Finan and Sihtric are getting tatted and Sihtric likes it a bit too well.

First Kiss - Draco Malfoy Set during book six.

First Kiss - Eric Northman Simple as.

Basically every thought I have ever had about Sihtric, but in a pile Full ass headcanon dump on my very fav himbo.

Good Good Good, Good Vibrations Mr F uses a vibe on reader, in public, sorta.

Orgasm Desperation - Game!Lambert Needy Needy Lambertini.

Lambert in the Middle Lambert getting some DP from Eskel and Geralt.

Another Lovely Puppy Pile Reader x Many witchers (and Jaskier)

Band of Bebbanburgh - XI - Tetanus Uhtred 'challenges' Sihtric to catch a pigeon. Hoemboy gets pecked and scratched, but has no tetnaus immunisation, so Finan and Osferth have to wrangle him to go to the dco's. Sihtirc does not like doctors and has to be pacified with sexy times from his boyfriends.

Giving Birth to Sihtric's Child It is not reader's first and it will most certainly not be the last.

TLK Underworld AU Headcanon List about a mafia au of sorts

Finan Eating You Out He's good with his mouth, let's be real

How He Met Me - VI August POV version of The Prophet [fic]

At the Desk - Napoleon Solo Napoleon Solo fucking reader on her desk, Arranged Marriage verse.

Sex in the Changing Room - Modern!Sihtric Raunchy dirty naughty Sihtric fucking reader in the changing rooms of the local clothing store.

On the table - Sihtric Canon verse, he humps you on the table

Sex in the Bath - Captain Syverson Bath sex with Sy

Ever Curiouser - I Hellboy Longfic, polyship.

Some Bebbanboys smut, bc I am nasty Smutty stuff with Sihtric x Finan x Osferth

Ben Daimio x Werewolf Reader A beastly smut

The Bebbanboys Band AU headcanons

Ben Daimio - Sneaking Around Smutty, you and Ben avoid getting caught while fucking on the job

Sweetheart Prompt #3 Ivar Lothbrok, suprise surprise

Band of Bebbanburgh - X - What Sihtric Does Best Smut fest about Sihtric sucking dick

Ulysses Klaue Smut Does exactly what it says on the tin.

No Way We Are Making Homework - Modern Ubbe Modern Ubbe x Reader. You should be making homework, but you are not.

Nasty Nasty Dirty Gross Ubbe CW: Incest Ubbe uses one specific way of making Hvitserk listen.

Ubbe x Alfred - Modern AU Ubbe and Alfred shower together.

This Home I Built - TLK Poly Fest Selfish fix it fic, lotsa smut, mainly about Sihtric.

Santiago Garcia Breeding Kink V1 Santi knocking you up.

Alpha Geralt Going Feral Nasty smut with no excuses

Sihtric - Breeding Kink V1 Sihtric knocking you up

Omega Sihtric Going Feral Needy Omega Sihtric

Alpha Geralt Scenting You Scenting sesh getting out of hand.

Santiago Garcia - Rough Sex Ah yes, more shameless porn with no plot.

Scenting Omega Sihtric Scenting Omega Sihtric gets out of hand.

My Fair Lady Shameless Aldflaed smut

Expectations - Loki Shameless Loki smut

Choking Sam Winchester Reader applying some pressure to a big moose, sexually.

At Saltwick What happened between Sihtric, Finan and Osferth while the kids were asleep.

Sex in Public - Sihtric Canon verse.

Neteyam x Au'Nung Neteyam almost died and Au'Nung is distressed.

Proof That I am an Aweful Person [TLK Poly stuff] More ReaderxPretty Boys headcanons

Fjall Stoneheart - Doggystyle Shameless smut

Band of Bebbanburgh - IX - Seeking Refuge Osferth goes to Finan when his homelife starts turning for the worst.

Breeding V1 - Jake Sully Jake Sully knocking you up.

Band of Bebbanburgh - VIII - Show You How Sihtric teases Osferth how to please Finan

Band of Bebbanburgh - VII - Small Comforts Finan having himself a slice of Sihtric.

Band of Bebbanburgh - VI - Sihtric's Dream Sihtric wakes up from a bad dream and Finan and Osferth put him at ease.

By God(s) and Men - Finan x Sihtric Canon verse; Sihtric and Finan figure out their dynamic.

The Baker's Boy - Finan x Sihtric Modern AU; Finan just realised he's been in love with Sihtric all along.

The Witan - Mark/Arnas/Reader CW: RPF and RPS Established Arnas x Reader and Past Marnas. Arnas convinced reader to come along to a TLK cast vaca and things spin swiftly out on his control.

All Three of Them Reader x Sihtric x Finan x Osferth smut

Threesome with Sihtric and Osferth Shameless smut with a lil twist

Threesome with Sihtric and Finan Dirty smutty smut smut smut

[bijuui9]

Experiment gone wrong

Lambert bodily tossed himself aside when his latest experiment blew up, taking out a good portion of his equipment with it. He coughed as he inhaled the smoke and waved his hands around to try and clear the air.

An odd chirrup sound caught his attention, and he blinked, looking around for the source. He got to his knees, a little sore from his fall, and frowned hard, squinting his eyes at his workbench. Something was there, but he couldn't see because of the smoke. The odd chirrup noise was back, definitely coming from his workbench. He got to his feet and approached, waving his hands through the smoke.

When it finally cleared, his eyes landed on the source of the chirrup noises. It was a ball of fur. He stared, body going utterly still as his instincts screamed at him to get his ass out of there.

"The fuck," he rasped, blinking and leaning forward to take a better look at the thing on his workbench. Yep, a quivering ball of fur making chirrup noises, thrilling and crooning in its place. Warily he reached out with gloved hand and poked it, quickly withdrawing his hands, all it did was thrill in a rather high pitch. Hesitantly he got closer to the table and picked the furball up. It had four tiny paws, legs? Lambert wasn’t sure what to call the four tiny limbs, they had tiny claws, but overall seemed harmless. He turned the furball over in his hands, no eyes. He carefully prodded it, looking for a mouth, he found nothing.

Baffled, he set the thing back onto the table. It chirred at him, bobbing in place. "The fuck did I do," Lambert muttering to himself, utterly baffled at what he had created. It was alive, that much he could tell. Fairly docile, and so far, all it did was make crooning noises and bob and sway gently in its place. It had no visible gender, no eyes nor a mouth that Lambert could find. It was utterly weird, that was what it was.

Lambert sighed and moved to pick up some of his ingredients only to find the furball eating his Belladonna roots. He stared at it, as it rapidly consumed the plants and roots on the bench. Well that answered the question of whether it had a mouth or not. Evidently, it had one. Were those fangs? Lambert cocked his head and took a closer look, wincing when he caught singing of a row of razor-sharp teeth gnawing a mandrake root it half.

With teeth like that, it could probably eat flesh too. Or rather rip it straight from the bone. "I should feed it," Lambert decided and with no regard for his own safety, picked up the vibrating ball of fluff and carried it with him and out of the room.

He swiftly made his way to the kitchens and asked Marlene for meat. She retrieved it for him and watched with horror as the creature insisted arms leaped onto the table and proceeded to devour the cows leg on it. "Holy fuck," Lambert cursed as his creation stripped the meat from the bone and then ate that too, it's silver colored teeth crunching it in pieces.

"What in goods name is that?" Marlene asked, panic in her voice and fear in her scent. Lambert stared at her for a moment and then looked back at the thing he had created. It sat quietly now, well mostly quiet. It was swaying lightly and chrring and crooning again. "I don't fucking now," he confessed.

"Well, you had best find out my lord, because that is not safe." Marlene told him, her voice wavering as she shoved a whole chicken to the creature and watched as it devoured that as well. Lambert felt himself agreeing with her, for all that it looked harmless it definitely wasn't. Sure they had fed it now, but he had no idea how much it needed to eat, what it's limits were regarding food or even if it would stop at animals, flowers, roots and plants. What if it could eat humans?

Lambert picked the creature up and shuddered, remembering that it had very sharp teeth somewhere. Still he found himself all but hugging it to his chest and carried it out of the kitchen. He needed to tell Geralt and maybe Eskel and may e one of the sorceresses should examine it. Because, whatever the fuck he had created, was dangerous. His instincts still screamed at him to drop it and haul ass. He wasn’t going to, letting an unknown omnivorous creature with the potential to eat humans loose in the keep was a bad, bad idea.

And so he made his way to the council rooms, barged in without knocking and dropped his creature onto the table. It crooned at him and began eating a stack of papers. Lambert let it. Wisely staying away from its teeth. Everyone else stared from him to the creature and then watched with horror fascination as it started making a dent in a stack of papers, which had been eye height high. It no longer was.

"Lambert, what in the hell is that?" It was Vesemir who voiced the question. "Fuck if I know. My experiment blew up, created that. It eats plants, Belladonna, mandrake, wolfsbane, chicken, a whole cows leg and paper too. I think it eats anything it can get its teeth on. Its soft, has four stubby legs with claws, a row of silver colored teeth, razor sharp as it crunched through the bone of the cows leg like it was a cookie." Lambert answered, he motioned to the now thrilling creature, it seemed to be singing. "I couldn't find any eyes and it's teeth are really well hidden. I don't fucking know what the fuck it is. But it just does that," the creature crooned at him, bobbing up and down and chirping to the room. "And eats whatever."

Yennefer had a look of fascination on her face as she approached. She reached out to touch it, withdrawing her hand when the flufball revealed a row of razor-sharp teeth and growled at her, inching towards Lambert and keeping its teeth in her direction. Lambert quickly put a hand on its head, and abruptly the growling stopped, the teeth vanished, and a crooning sound filled the air. "Guess it doesn't like sorceresses."

"Kill it," one of the schoolheads spoke up. "We can't have unknown creatures roaming the keep. You said it likely eats anything. What if it eats humans?" Lambert bristled, the creature made an odd noise and then began devouring anything pile of paperwork. Eskel made a devastating noise, reaching out to stop it and found himself with a hand full of crooning fluff. The creature rubbed itself against Eskels hands, crooning and chirring in delight. "So it eats whatever it finds, hates sorceresses and likes Eskel and Lambert." Vesemir mused thoughtfully, observing the ball of fluff with interest.

Geralt curiously reached out and when it didn't growl at him, began petting it. Much to its delight, if the noises it made were any indication. "Maybe it just likes witchers," Yennefer mused. She looked like she wanted to take the being apart to see how it worked.

"What we need to do, is figure out how much it needs to eat, how to stop it from wandering off and what it might attack so we can avoid the thing just wandering around, eating residents." Vesemir spoke up, notebook in hand and already making notes. Lambert sighed and rubbed his face. "Fuck, look I can take it hunting. See how much it eats or if it can hunt for itself."

"I'll come along, make sure it doesn't wander off." Eskel volunteers to go with Lambert. Obviously wanting to keep an eye on the younger wolf and make sure the creature didn't hurt him. "Thanks," Lambert grunted, twitching when his creation hopped over to him and began chirping and bobbing up and down. "Wonder what that means," one of the school heads piped up curiously. Lambert picked the creature up and let it rest in his arms against his chest. It quieted down immediately and crooned at him.

"Well, we know who it likes best." Yennefer pointed out. She itched to let her Chaos examine the critter, whatever it was, it was new and exiting. Who knows what secrets it held, what it could tell her, what discoveries there were to be made.

"Right, let's hunt. Get it fed and then figure out what exactly you created." Vesemir decided, snapping his notebook shut. And hunt they did. Lambert headed out with Eskel, whilst Vesemir and Geralt got the lab ready with Yennefer.

The creature turned out to be able to leap onto animals once it got into range but couldn't hunt down anything on its own. It relied on Lambert to get it close and then leapt forward, razor sharp teeth digging into skin and muscle and swelling a massive bite, leaving a bleeding neck behind with a huge chunk of meat and muscle just gone. It devoured its kill at a rapid speed and didn't even leave bones behind for scavengers. Eskel winced as the creature crunched its way through the bones of a bear. And it hadn’t been the first kill either. No Lambert’s creation had devoured two deer, a wild boar, sixteen rabbits, two hares, and now a bear. It also uprooted a few plants and ate a bunch of poisonous herbs. Lambert approached it with two rabbits in his hands and held them out, the creature made no move to eat them, so the redhead tied the dead animals to his belt and picked up his deadly creation. "Seems like it enough," he decided, cradling it close to his chest. It let out a burping noise and then cooed. Eskel gave him a disturbed look, "Lambert, it just ate two deer, a boar, sixteen rabbits, two hares, and a whole bear. Bones and all. I sure hope it's done eating."

The redhead shrugged, glancing down at the fluffball in his arms. "Let's get it to Vesemir." He turned around and headed back to the keep, figuring out what the creature was, was next on the list of things to do.

[witchofmorena]

Eskel gets a bard

I got the idea from @jaskiersvalley and this fic (Imma steal name of competition, hope you don’t mind darling <3 )

Jaskier invites Eskel to stay and watch/listen to music, in hope Eskel finds someone he likes. Eskel stays and helps Jaskier prank Valdo over and over again (for one Eskel distracted Valdo while Jaskier put horse-shit (yes he was disgusted, and yes Geralt helped) in Valdo’s bed in place of his bed mattress... When Valdo went to bed with some other bard (yes they were going to be naughty) and as soon as they laid in bed they sunk into feces...well lets just say our dear witchers and Jaskier learned many new swearwords and other bards realized it might not be a good idea to bed Valdo during the Bard-Off).

The Bard-Off lasts for about 2 weeks, depending on number of participants, and teachers of Oxenfurt are judges, many nobles come to watch this event - it is one of most important events after all. During day the bards sing, the judges give them points for songs and audience enjoys some good music. In the evenings there is always a party, with lots of alcohol and food and people sneaking away for...some...private parties... 

Over hundred bards singed up, 128 to be precise - human,part-humans (fea, sirens, succubi, etc)... however non-human participants used magic to hide their “abnormalities” - they didn’t expect so many nobility and TWO witchers to be present. Each circle eliminated half of current participants (1st circle 64 get eliminated, 2nd 32, etc), there is 7 circles . 

In first circle, Eskel notices one girl who is fairly quiet compared to other bards, who cheers for her friends when they do well while most others boo-es them, she comforts other bards who get disqualified ("Why did they disqualify me? I can’t stop people from trying to impress me, because they are susceptible to even tiniest amount of siren voice! And I can’t even *turn it off* as they demand and they know it” “I know maybe, darling, next year will be better”)... Well now Eskel know why his medallion keeps vibrating - not every contestant was human... The girl is very pretty, she has short black hair and eyes that look like they are actual mini thunderstorm and pale skin, at least that’s all Eskel manages to see before she disappears from his view...For her first performance she sings a song about helping someone, falling for them and them taking advantage of her and her love /*AN: smth along the lines of Without me by Halsey*/ all while looking at Valdo. When she finishes and gets off the stage Valdo’s approaching her. He grabs her arm and drags her away and into an empty hallway. What Valdo forgot is that Jask is fond of this lady and sees her as younger sister. Jaskier asks his darling and friend to come with him (he already sang and doesn’t have to worry much about performing). They find Valdo yelling at her:“ Ishtar....what did I say about telling people about what happened between us?”. The girl, Ishtar, smells of fear and it makes witchers’ noses itch and Eskel growl - he hates seeing others being hurt in such way. As soon as bard raises hand and moves to strike Ishtar, Eskel appears in front of young lady. Idiot bard hits him and...regrets it immediately, for Eskel punches him hard enough to hear and feel breaking of bone. Jaskier and Geralt force Valdo outside, unkindly, and Eskel is alone with the beautiful woman. Only - she doesn’t seem fully human anymore, oh no. she has two horns coming out of her temples and ears have transformed as well... Eskel doesn’t address the fact that she is part succubus - her fear didn’t disappear and that is a bigger worry. So he tries talking to her.

“Did he hurt you? Do you want me to get someone else?”- he asks as gently as possible, not wishing to scare her even more, looking closely for any change that might indicate that she is calming down. “No, he didn’t and no need....Thanks for...help and....offer“ Ishtar said quietly, she didn’t understand why he was nice to her, especially now that her glamour is off, and why he protected her. Unable to stop herself she asked him. “Simple, I’m a witcher and my job is to protect innocent, besides I...uh...“ he stutters trough the rest of the answer, uncertain how to answer. “Oh....I thought witchers kill monsters“ Eskel frowns “We do, but not all,” he launches into explaining about differences and reasoning just about everything. Ishtar listens intently and calms down. Witcher gathers courage to ask her. “I’d like to dance with you, will you honor me and go to the party with me tonight?“ “Depends“ she answered shortly.”Will I be able to leave at any moment or will you force me to stay? Will I be able to speak with my friends?“ The scarred wolf smiles slightly, he likes her already”Why would I stop you doing anything you like to do? If you say you wish to leave I’ll walk you to your room....or corridor if you wish for that, wouldn’t want a repeat of what happened earlier“ our wolf has a feeling she’ll accept.  “Very well, but do not think I wont argue if try to restrict me!“ “Wouldn’t dream of it, lovely“ she blushes, unused to compliments while unglamoured.”I’ll see you tonight“ he says with a wink and turns to go find fellow wolf and his bard.

At the party Eskel and Ishtar dance until she decides to find Essi The Little Eye and some other people. Meanwhile Eskel finds Jaskier and White Wolf and tells them about the succubus bard he wants, Jaskier gets enthusiastic and tells Eskel everything he knows about her (and that is a lot) and Geralt just keeps up with his “hmmm”-s until Jask is done. Then starts teasing bigger wolf about his “love for horny women“ (pun is dumb but intended). When she says she wants to go, he walks her to her room. Ishtar get a kiss on her hand - he is doing this the way she wants.

Her second staging is about Essi and she sings about lover who fell for someone else, the one whose love changed from friend to lover and back to friend, the one who she’ll always love and treasure. Jaskier is impressed - he didn’t hear that one before so it must be new. Eskel appreciates how her voice is raising and falling so smoothly, how it goes from gentle to husky.

Third one is simply about the one who lied and despite that drove her crazy and did crazy things with this one and she doesn’t regret it at all (Ricky Martin - Livin’ La Vida Loca). Eskel raises eyebrows - it happened to him, a whore slipped him something for sleep, took his coin (leaving barely enough for room) and left him there, he felt resigned at the time and unhappy (he looked forward to eating her out and driving her nuts with his tongue). 

Fourth performance - she wanted to sing her newest song about the one who keeps Valdo away (aka Eskel), she composed it last night - and so she sings about a hero, a hero who is strong, fast, larger then life (Bonnie Tyler - I need a hero) all while keeping eye-contact with Eskel (he winks at her).

Fifth round and she has no idea what to sing - so she sings a song to god of vegetation, fertility, protection and war (aka Yarilo) and once again is looking Eskel in the eye, as if she is challenging him in some way. That is the day he asks her to be his bard... “I’m curious....“ he said quietly, as if unsure of something ”Do you travel around Continent, like Jask does?” Ishtar looks up from her notes, she’s composing something new “Hmmmm? Oh....yes, all bards travel, but Jaskier travels the most” she seems confused ”Tho if I had a chance I’d travel like he does...“ even tho that was all he needs to hear to know she’ll be up for travelling with him he’s still uncertain - who would want his scarred and ugly mug? “What if someone asks you? Say someone you’ve spent some time with during this Bard-Off?“ he hints he wants to travel with her. “Are you asking me to wander with you, oh scary witcher?“ her eyes sparkle as she asks him teasingly. “hmmmmm...“ Eskel humms thinking to himself <Good going, Eskel, you’re just as eloquent as Geralt....On the other hand that might help>. He keeps stuttering answer “Well....yes...I mean if....if you don’t....want to...it’s fine....Unless?...”  Ishtar pulls him down “I’d love to travel with you, sweet witcher”, kisses him and drags, well it’s not exactly dragging since he is following her willingly, to her room.”Just know that is not the only thing I want to do with you” pushes him on the bed ”The word among succubae is” perches on his lap and his arm goes around her waist, steadying her “That Eskel of the wolves” kisses and bites his neck, he grunts softly “is amazing in bed” whispers in his ear and sucks “Is that true?” He growls, aroused. “Want to find out“ he pulls her closer “Just how good“ tangles his free hand in her hair ”I can be“ kisses her, moving from her sweet lips, along her jaw and down her neck, leaving occasional bite or sucking on the skin. 

She is too focused on Eskel as they tear each others clothes off to notice the glamour slipping. He lies her down as they are kissing, and slowly makes his way down her body, taking time to warship her - sucking and biting than licking and kissing to sooth the sting. He makes her come over and over again with his tongue and and fingers til she’s overstimulated mess, begging him for something and even she doesn’t know what for. Is she begging for more? For less? Until she decides she wants him to be a mess. So she turns the table on him - suddenly he is the one in his back, and it’s her turn to drive him crazy, like he did her.

Afterwards, when they are both spent and cuddling, Ishtar looks at her witcher, for in her eyes he is hers, and whispers softly, gently, her breath tickles his neck “I want to travel and I want to travel with you, my dear wolf” she raises her head to look into his eyes “and the stories are true - you are amazing” leans in to kiss his lips, where the scar deforms them, gently.

Several months later.... Eskel is in a small town, so small it doesn’t even have name not to mention it’s in a swampy area, Ishtar is with him. They go to local alderman to check if there are any monsters that are terrorizing people. Turns out there are drowners - rather big horde of over 20 drowners. Eskel takes the contract and tries to convince his lovely succubus bard to stay behind and “maybe sing in a tavern? I don’t want you near danger”. Of course, she doesn’t stay in town/village and follows her darling. She keeps her distance, as to not make more work for Eskel. <Silly witcher thinks I need protection 24/7....*shakes head fondly*....well if he doesn’t need help I still need new material for a new song - it’s been a while since I accompanied him on his hunts...> she thinks to herself. The fight last much longer then either of them thought it would and Eskel left his potions behind, didn’t drink them thinking it’ll be easy fight. He’ll definitely have words with the alderman about this. He doesn’t notice couple drowners coming from behind, but Ishtar does. She picks up the first thing she sees - it’s a tree branch and thankfully it’s not dry. She runs at drowners (<NO NO NO! That is MY witcher! I wont let you have him>), starts hitting them with her make-shift weapon screaming at the top of her lungs “Die DIe DIE” until there is only...mess made of brain matter, mud and bones left behind. Eskel watches her with amusement in his eyes and proud smile on his tired face - the rest of drowners were already dead. “I know I should’ve stayed in tavern or something, but I’ve decided to follow you AND I’m not apologizing” Ishtar says defensively. “I was wrong” he admits, coming closer to her and hugging her tightly. She could feel his excitement against her hip, but since he’s ignoring it she does the same and returns the hug just as tightly. They found the alderman upon their return to the town. He admitted to not knowing how many drowners there really was, and, since he couldn’t pay for the ones he didn’t know about he invited duo to stay at his house for a few days. 

With time Ishtar’s songs become as popular as Jaskier’s and the Eskel Chernovuk becomes as famous as Geralt. While Jaskier and Geralt are known as Feral Bard and White Wolf, Ishtar and Eskel are know as Demon Bardess and Chernovuk. 

The person who supported me is my sweet tree climbing buddy Rhi, @merthurlocked so I’m tagging her (Thanks, love <3)

[bethdutten]

hii can u pls write eskel x reader first kiss? ily

It was your third winter at the keep. And like usual, you were getting irritated at the glances Geralt and Lambert were throwing between you and Eskel.

The first year, he’d explained very clearly to everyone that you had saved his life from a nest of nekkers, and healed his injured leg better than any potion a Witcher could ever make. Since then, you’d followed him on the Path to make sure he didn’t get himself killed again. It was a partnership between a monster killer and a master healer, that’s all.

Only, it was bullshit. Geralt knew, Vesemir knew, Lambert even said it was bullshit that first night because he knew it was. Anyone could see how head over heels you two were for each other.

Except each other.

So, every year you fought alongside Eskel and tended to his injuries, talking late into the night with an occasional sharing of a bed when necessary, and never daring to cross a line in case it ruined the friendship you had. And it was fine, it was fine. He was everything you could ever want, and you were lucky he kept you along for as long as he has.

Eskel couldn’t lose you. He knew what he was; a scarred and unwanted mutant, as terrifying as any monster he took down. And he found someone who accepted him, slept alongside him like he was safe and trusted, and cared for him. He loved you— he was in love with you. But he’d never say anything.

On the Path, it was easy to pretend with no one around to make either of you look at it too closely. Kaer Morhen was a different story.

“Quit it,” you hissed, ripping a piece off your bread a bit more aggressively than normal.

Geralt let out a huff, just shaking his head. He was just as annoyed at seeing you two so obviously enamoured with each other for years, and doing nothing about it, as you probably were with everyone insinuating there was something going on.

Lambert, however, wasn’t letting it go that easily.

“Quit what?” He smirked, wagging an eyebrow. “Why don’t you two just go off in the west tower and fuck for a few days, then maybe you’ll be less tense.”

You stood up quickly, spoon chattering onto the table. Without another word, you left the room, not wanting to put up with Eskel’s brothers’ relentless teasing right now. As if they weren’t extremely on point, and you just couldn’t do anything about it.

As Eskel watched you storm off with a look of dismay on his face, he turned to Lambert and shoved him, hard. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Not my fault you both won’t get your heads out of your asses,” Lambert growled, heading back into the kitchen. Vesemir was on his way into the dining hall, having heard everything. He smacked Lambert on the side of the head as he passed, ignoring his yelp of indignation.

“What does that mean?” Eskel stared open mouthed at Geralt, the slight flickering of hope in his heart.

Geralt just sighed. “I was hoping not to have to spell it out for you, brother.” He got up and walked over to Eskel’s side, resting a hand on his shoulder and saying, “She fucking loves you, so go and tell her you love her too,” before he left the room as well.

Eskel balked, his chest suddenly tightening up. Geralt was the absolute worst at reading emotions (almost two decades to realize what it meant that Jaskier would follow him anywhere, really) so if he was saying it, that would mean…

He looked over at Vesemir, who was just giving him a look that said, He’s right and you’re a fucking idiot, before Eskel got up and quickly went after you.

He found you in the west tower, of all places. He didn’t read too much into that, carefully approaching you where you stood looking out over the Blue Mountains. Despite having a bit of confidence a minute ago, he suddenly felt very stupid.

What if you rejected him? After three years together, wouldn’t you have told him if you wanted him like that?

You turned, and saw it all on his face. Oh.

So you made a decision. Maybe it would ruin everything; maybe you’d spend the rest of the winter not speaking until you parted forever, and you’d be left with only memories of the best three years of your life with your best friend beside you.

But you couldn’t go one more minute without knowing what he tasted like. You walked up to him, wrapped your arms around his neck, feeling his strong shoulders and tangling your fingers in his soft hair, and kissed him.

Eskel let out a squeak of surprise, only hesitating for a second before he realized what was happening and kissed you back. His hands settled on your waist, pulling you in against him, almost shuddering at how soft your lips were; and they were kissing him, nibbling slightly on his bottom lip and sweeping your tongue along the notch in his lip the scar had disfigured and making him whimper.

You pulled away with a soft smile, but remained close enough to exchange breath, to stroke your thumb over the scars on his cheek and nuzzle your face into his neck like you were scenting him, covering him in yourself so everyone knew he was yours—

Eskel hummed, guiding your face back up to his so he could kiss you again, just as lazy and gentle as the first time. He broke off with a huff, resting his forehead against yours. “Do not tell Lambert he had any hand in this.”

You laughed, a hand resting over your Witcher’s heart, biting your lip. “He did make a good suggestion, though…”

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

Grunge-Metal Geralt

Hi, im fucking trash for the idea of Geralt being the front man for a Five Finger Death Punch type band and my brain wouldn’t shut the fuck up about it. This music genre is my bread and butter and I think Geralt’s repressed but highly emotional ass would fit right in. Yes im using another Hozier song, no i dont wanna hear anything about it. I’m a basic bitch and ive made my peace with it

Warnings: i honestly have no idea, its a little horny, little emotional, but theres no actual character interaction?, its at a concert venue? idk yall.

_________________________

Jaskier was… out of his comfort zone.

It’s not that he didn’t like the grunge-metal music, he just hadn’t listened to much and he was not used to the energy. People were yelling and screaming and the opener hadn’t even come on yet. He didn’t feel unsafe, far from it. Several people had checked to see if he was okay, seeing as he was the only person in the entire arena wearing a sweater that wasn't ripped or faded to hell. It was just a far cry from the shows he was used to. 

He played folky-blues. This was nothing like his shows. 

When the lights went down the crowd was deafening, all moving as one to rush the front of the floor, not giving a single fuck about tickets. 

The openers were exciting, and Jaskier was surprised by some of the concepts and messages behind the music. It wasn’t what he’d expected at all and he found himself searching them up on Spotify to listen later. 

Then came The Witchers. 

Eskel and Lambert made their energetic entrance, followed by Aiden calmly walking to his drums and sitting as if he were walking into a college class. But Geralt was nowhere in sight. The one person Jaskier had actually come to see. 

He’d seen a video clip from a previous concert where they covered one of his songs, and he was praying they’d do it again. It was lovely in a haunting-almost-threatening way, and the expression in Geralt’s posture alone was enthralling. He had to see it live. 

But Geralt was still absent as the band started to build a song. First Aiden with the beat, then Eskel’s bass, then Lambert with a melody on his electric guitar. It built and built and built to a fever pitch, taking the crowd with it. People were already jumping and screeching. Jaskier had to stand on his seat to see the stage clearly. 

Geralt’s voice echoed through the venue, low and closer to a growl than singing, but he was still nowhere to be seen.

Jaskier thought he’d been prepared, but his whole body was covered in goosebumps. He briefly wondered if this was what his friends were feeling when they listened to ASMR.

Geralt remained hidden for the whole first verse, getting the crowd even more excited than Jaskier thought possible, only for the band to go completely silent for a whole measure. When the crowd's screams reached their absolute loudest, Geralt dropped from on top of one of the jumbotrons, landing on one of the horse-sized speakers before launching into the chorus. 

Oh fuck, he was even more beautiful in person. 

He was… well he was a beast of a man. Jaskier really didn’t have another word for the way his muscles bulged and how lithe and powerful he looked springing from the speaker to join his bandmates on the main stage. His thighs filled out his black, tattered jeans and there were clear faded spots where his muscles strained the fabric too often. The thin black tank he wore did nothing but pretend the man was semi-modest. It was so tight, the only thing left up to the imagination was tan lines and the color of his nipple piercings. 

Jaskier was most entranced by his long, white, wavy hair falling past his shoulders. As the show continued and he started to sweat, a lot, it got curlier and curlier at the root. Jaskier wanted to give him a mask and some curl cream, but only after a, uhm, rough night of getting to know each other. He’d heard rumors about Geralt from hitting arenas not long after they’d left. He was quite sure they’d have a great time.

As he focused on the lyrics more and more, he was more inclined to want to wrap Geralt up in a hug and worship every part of him until he felt whole again. 

Either he’d been shown the shitty side of the genre, or The Witchers were exceptions to the rule of content. Jaskier was almost moved to tears a few different times.

Finally, about an hour into Jaskier mindlessly feasting his eyes on the front man, Geralt leapt onto another speaker and sat down, breathing hard and grinning from ear to ear. 

“You still with us?”

The unholy screech from the crowd left no doubt they were just as excited, if not more so, than when they’d arrived. 

“Good! Good..” he trailed off, chuckling as he lowered the mic to take a breath, “We’re gonna slow it down for a minute,” he leaned forward and held the mic away as Eskel shouted something up at him to which he laughed and flipped him off. 

“As I was saying, we’re gonna yearn for a minute or two and do a cover. Song by Jaskier called ‘Talk’.”

The crowd lost their shit again, various pride flags popping up throughout the stands. 

Geralt chuckled and raised his combat boot, showing off the bi flag colored treads, earning another round of screams. If this is what the grunge-metal scene was like, Jaskier had been missing out his entire life. Sure his fans were sweet and supportive and loving when he’d come out. But this was electric and feral and completely addictive.

Lambert struck the opening chord to Jaskier’s song and the crowd settled to a gentle hum, setting the tone immediately, as if they all knew exactly what was coming. 

Geralt closed his eyes as he tapped his thigh with one finger, keeping time before his rumbling baritone hit Jaskier like a freight train. 

“I’d be the voice that urged Orpheus when her body was found…”

Jaskier could have collapsed right there. He knew he was staring like a lovesick idiot, but hell, everyone around him was too. When the chorus hit and Eskel came in with a heavy bass line he nearly fell off his chair. Geralt’s intensity raised with the addition of the backup but he didn’t move. He stayed seated, swaying slightly, with his eyes closed as he crooned out the words Jaskier had sobbed as he wrote, broken hearted and miserable. 

It was surreal. 

Sure he’d seen other covers. Sure they’d been lovely. But he wanted to listen to this and only this as he fell asleep for the rest of his life. He’d never play it again if he could only hear it one more time. 

After the last verse Lambert launched into a guitar solo while Geralt jumped off the speaker and meandered to the center of the stage to slot his mic back in it’s stand. He gripped it like a lifeline when Lambert held one last note for as long as his instrument would allow and only started singing the last chorus when it was almost silent. 

“I won't deny I've got in my mind now all the things I would do

So I'll try to talk refined for fear that you find out how I'm imaginin' you

I won't deny I've got in my mind now all the things we could do

So I'll try to talk refined for fear that you find out how I'm imaginin' you”

His expression looked hopeless and utterly desperate as he crooned out the last two lines. He let his hair fall to cover his face and Jaskier could just barely hear his panting breath over the sound system as the crowd exploded. Geralt tipped his head back and took two deep breaths before straightening up and getting on with the show but Jaskier was stuck. 

He was vaguely aware of someone taking a picture of him, but he really couldn’t care less. The fact that Geralt moved right on to a song called ‘Burn Motherfucker Burn’ didn’t matter either. 

Jaskier jumped down from his arena seat, whipping out his phone and sending the band a tweet, because apparently that’s what musicians did now?

“Record it. Please. It’s either that or sing me to sleep every night. You choose.”

He stayed for the rest of the show and walked to his car in a haze. Before he backed out of his spot he checked his phone like always and his heart nearly stopped at the two top notifications. 

One public reply: “Both? -G”

And one direct message: “If you’re still here and want to grab a drink, I’m just backstage.” 

[lebguardians]

Random lambert one shot. I plan to post more parts to the story I’m working on. I just found out I’m pregnant and morning sickness is kicking my ass.

Warnings: some angst, fluff, smut, p in v sex, kissing, cussing. Let me know if I need to add more.

Lambert paced the room in anger, breathing heavily through his nose, eyebrows furrowed, fists clinched. Angry was an understatement, he was down right furious. He couldn’t believe how stupid y/n had been. He told her to wait at the keep with Eskel. Instead, she threw herself straight into danger. The alghoul nearly biting her leg. He glanced over at her, face softening as he saw the tears in her eyes as Vesemir was wrapping her arm up in a bandage. Seeing the wound, even being a tiny cut, set him off again. Cussing under his breath, he turned sharply and began to make his way to their room. He needed a minute to take a breather before he said or did something he would regret. As he passed y/n, she reached out to grab his hand and softly said “Lambert, where-“ but before she could even finish her sentence lambert snatched his out of her reach and sharply said “don’t y/n I don’t want to fucking hear a word from you right now.”

Y/n looked down as a tear fell and nodded her head as lambert took one final look at her, shaking his head, and going to their room. Vesemir let out a sigh and squeezed y/n hand. “Give him time, y/n. You scared him. Scared all of us. He just needs time to get his head together. There all finished. I put a numbing salve so it shouldn’t hurt. I’ll redress it in the morning. Get some rest.” He told her with a small smile.

Y/n whispered a thank you before standing and going to sit in front of the fire. Eskel and geralt had already went to bed after making sure she was ok. She understood why lambert was so upset and why she scared them but she can handle herself. Lambert was about to get overwhelmed by the alghouls and she couldn’t just sit back and watch it happen. She sat on lambert’s old bed right in front of the fire and laid down. The sheets and pillow still smelled of him. She hugged the pillow close and took a deep breath of his scent. He always smelled of leather, blade oil, and the outside. She didn’t think she would be welcomed in their room tonight and decided to sleep in his old bed both to give him space and to avoid the situation all together. She couldn’t handle his disappointment anymore. Fresh tears sprung to her eyes when she thought of him ripping his hand from her grasp. She stared off into the fire and quietly cried herself to sleep hugging his pillow.

When lambert had gotten to their room, he had destroyed it out of anger. When he finally calmed down and realized it was past midnight, he decided to go back to the main hall to check on y/n. She should have been to their room already and he needed supplies to clean the mess he made. When he got there he was surprised and a little pissed off to find y/n asleep in his old bed. He thought she couldn’t be bothered to come to their room. He took a deep breath, shook his head, and grabbed what he needed to clean the mess and try to sleep himself.

Y/n woke before the rest of the keep. Which was unusual since she’s always the last to rise. She felt like shit. Her eyes were puffy and swollen from crying, her hair a mess, and her arm was starting to hurt. She stroked the fire back to life and decided to cook breakfast for everyone since she was up. By the time she finished, Vesemir had awoken, changed her bandages, and was eating breakfast. He could tell she didn’t hardly sleep but decided not to comment on it. When they heard the other Witcher’s rising for the day, he notice her slip out the door.

As soon as y/n heard the others rising she quickly left the keep and went to tend to the horses. She wanted to avoid everyone, mainly lambert. She really didn’t want to fight with him. She knew he was ultimately right and she put herself in unnecessary danger but she didn’t want to admit that. After she heard them begin training, she snuck back into the keep to their room and decided to lay down and take a nap. Hopefully short enough to find something to do to avoid lambert more.

Lambert knew exactly what she was doing. He put all his anger and frustration out in training and his usual duties that day. After finishing everything he went to their room to take a bath before heading down to drink the night away. He was surprised to find y/n asleep in bed. He took a quick bath, and then sat in front of the fire to wait for her to wake up so they can talk. He knew she should just wake her up but she looked like shit honestly so he let her sleep.

Y/n stirred awake. She stretched her limbs, feeling them pop from being in the same position for too long. She turned her head to see lambert staring at her. His face completely neutral.

“Nice to see you finally woke up” he said curtly. Y/n looked out the window to see it was dark outside. “It’s past midnight in case you were wondering”.

Y/n just chewed on her lip and looked down at her hands. “Sorry, I’ll go” she whispered, her stomach dropping to the floor at his tone as she stood to leave. Moving as fast as a Witcher does, he stood in front of her to block her path, arms crossed over his chest, looking down at her. She barely reached his armpit. “I don’t think so y/n. We aren’t doing this avoiding shit anymore. You fucked up and it’s time to sit down and fucking talk about it”. Lambert growled out quickly getting pissed off again.

“I didn’t fuck up lambert! I saved your ass! Should I have stayed with Eskel at the keep? Probably. But I’m glad I didn’t because you could have died! Those monsters were about to overrun you!” She snarled at him through clinched teeth “and then what lambert, had I not helped. You would have died!! I would have to live my life without you! I won’t sit back and watch you die!” With every word she poked his chest with her finger.

“IM A WITCHER Y/n!!! It’s my fucking job! You know that just as well as I do no Witcher ever dies in his bed! I won’t have your blood on my hands because you decided to do something fucking stupid. I love you! Now quit poking my damn chest.” He replied grabbing her wrist to stop her from poking him.

Both of their chests were heaving in anger. The others could hear them arguing all the way in the main room. It was a stare off at this point. Neither wanting to give in. Y/n wrist still in his hand. “Oh you know what” lambert growled out, grabbed her face and kissed her hard. Y/n let out a squeak in shock but quickly pulled herself together and kissed him back, grabbing onto his shirt with her free hand. It was rough, noses and teeth clashing. Lambert began kissing his way down her jaw and neck, leaving marks in his wake. Y/n began growing wet quickly, tugging his shirt over his head and pressing herself as close as possible to him. Lambert ripped the clothes from her body, rid himself of the rest of his clothes, and walked backwards to lay her on the bed, pressing himself against her. Y/n let out a moan and ground her hips against his, desperate for some sort of friction. He quickly held her hips down, before crashing his lips to hers again. Y/n wrapped her arms around him, one hand on his shoulder, the other in hair, her nails digging into him. He let out growl at the feeling of her nails and took one breast in his mouth, nipping and sucking on the bud while he massaged the other one. Y/n was panting, desperate for some sort of relief. She could feel him hard against her thigh. She desperately needed him in her “please lambert, please please please” she begged him. Her hands tightening. He released her breast before slamming his lips to her again as he lined himself to her entrance. He suddenly slammed into her, letting out a loud groan in her ear. Y/n mewled, trying to find some sort of grip on anything. “Fuck lambet please” she begged him. Without giving her time to adjust to his size, he began thrusting into her groaning at the feel of her walls tight around his cock. “Fuck, yes y/n.” Both of them were panting, moaning, the headboard banging against the wall. Y/n was relishing the feeling of him inside her, her orgasm quickly approaching at his harsh pace he had set. She was clinging to him, her head tucked into his neck, breathing in his scent, whispering to him how good he felt and that she was sorry. Lambert sat up and grabbed her thighs, setting an impossibly faster pace. His chest heaving and a light sheen of sweat covered him. She loved the sight of him like this, completely loose not constantly worried about her. He reached a hand between them and rubbed her nub in circles. She quickly was hit with her orgasm. It rushing in like lightening. Her back arched, breath caught in her throat, legs shaking. Lambert leaned back over her as his release hit, pressing his chest to hers, letting out a shout as he released into her. He guided her through her release, whispering for her to breath and saying “good girl, I love you, and I got you. As soon as they both came down to earth. He rolled off of her and gathered her in his arms, her head on his chest. She mindlessly traced patterns into his scarred chest before everything hit. She silently cried. “Why are you crying did I hurt you”lambert whispered in her ear, worry flooding him. She shook her head no and took a deep breath and sat up to look at him. “I’m sorry”, she whisper I should have listened and stayed at the keep. The worry wiped from his face and relief filled its place. Letting out a sigh, he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I don’t say these things because I don’t think you’re capable y/n. I say them because I love you and I can’t loose you” she smiled softly at him before places a kiss on his forehead. “I love you too lambert”

[witch-witcher-witchless]

Jambert and(?) Lambert/Aiden/Jaskier modern AU plot bunny

I had to rush my dog to the emergency vet at 3am, and the brand new low-key flustered vet had to wait for the experienced vet tech to arrive before they could take a look at my sick fur-goblin. But oh my god, I don't know if it was exhausted eyes deceiving me, but the vet kept looking at the vet tech for approval with stars in her eyes and I'm looking for a silver lining in this whole nightmare. Doggo is sick but doing better btw

It would be so cute if Jaskier was a brand new vet getting flustered by the super competent veteren vet tech. Like, they were both so incredible with my pup, but the vet tech had her absolutely melting and even got licks to her face mask 🥺 Just a cute scenario.

.

Imagine the normally kinda cranky and snarky Lambert being an absolute soft bamf and showing the softness more than usual because it's 3am, he only fell asleep at 1 and had been pulling very long shifts all week, and keeping up a semblance of professionalism while Jaskier is around is just exhausting at the best of times because that cute asshole does not want to be kept at arms-length and is personally setting out to ruin Lambert's life

.

And "Geralt, stop laughing you absolute ass! This isn't funny. He has these blue Disney fucking princess eyes, and he sings lullabies to the animals, and the social media accounts he's set up for the office and the local animal shelter have gotten senior animals adopted, and he actually sews them outfits and somehow partnered with old geezer homes for them to crochet shit and walk the better behaved dogs?? How is he real I hate my life

...Eskel shut the fuck up. Not you too - no wait!! Don't you fucking dare call Vesemir, I will shove that phone so far up your ass that you'll be burping ringtones

.

...so he kinda just says fuck it and invites Jask back to his place after a 3am emergency call-out because it's within walking distance and they are covered in cursed fluids without a change of clothes, and Jaskier will literally never stop complaining if he has to clean aforementioned cursed fluids out of his car's upholstery

And it's 5am and Jaskier is wearing his clothes, looking infuriatingly at home, and he just wants to have a nice thing for once. Jaskier is that nice thing

.

Or maybe Lambert and Aiden are poly and in a semi-open relationship, and Aiden stumbles out of bed at 6am to find his husband and a random(?) pretty boy passed out on the couch. He just kind of shrugs and starts to make breakfast for three, and within 30 minutes of meeting this sleep-rumpled mess he gets it. He gets why Lambert is enamoured like a 12 year old

Jaskier is an infuriatingly Nice Thing™

And if Lambert doesn't want to take the risk, well, Aiden has never claimed to not be an impulsive dick. But, an impulsive dick who loves his husband and doesn't see why those two should be pining like children

.

But like, Jaskier is super embarrassed over not knowing;

1. That his hot coworker that he's a little in love with is married (he wears his ring on a necklace because of regularly encountering cursed fluids at work)

2. That Lambert and his husband are ridiculously in love, and Aiden, Lambert's husband, seems nonplussed over waking up and finding a stranger (apparently wearing Aiden's clothes because Lambert just grabbed something from the clean laundry hamper FML) drooling on his husband's chest

.

So fuck his life and curse his romantic heart because his crush's husband would be very easy to fall in love with too

.

3. Aiden makes amazing french toast that caused an honest to god moan to get ripped out of his throat when he took that first bite, and that would explain the memorable day where Lambert came into the office with two distinct icing sugar handprints on the ass of his scrubs and looking like he'd rip anyone's head off for mentioning it after Jaskier leaned in close, smelling the heady notes of sandalwood and petrichor that clings to the man, and whispered that he might want to clean himself up in the bathroom because something is on his pants

4. Lambert prefers sandalwood and it's Aiden who smells like a storm

5. Not knowing they were poly and spending the first 10 minutes acting very Apologetic and Awkward. Post-poly relationship enlightenment he spends another 2 minutes rambling about how one of his friends is in a poly relationship and celebrating their 13th and 15th anniversaries and, Good for you two, having open communication is a hard thing to find in a lot of relationships wow

And Lambert and Aiden just look a bit amused and confused, because they really don't need approval but they get where he's coming from when he says, "...and don't worry Lambert, I might be a chatterbox but your secret is safe with me. I don't want to create any trouble for you, I know that the receptionist got pretty snippy with me once she heard I was a bisexual disaster and took more offence to the former than the latter."

And see, that derails their plans of seduction, quiet plans made using eyebrows and other silent languages that people who know each other for years develop.

Because, sure, Jaskier had only been working there ruining Lambert's life hes a grown man why is he fucking adorable singing old lullabies that he half remembers from life before being fostered by Vesemir for 6 months, but Beth has only been there 2 weeks and that shit will not fly

And anyway Beth gets reprimanded and quits before she's fired, but now they're in a really tight place at work because even a shitty receptionist/admin assistant keeps the place running in ways not evident or appreciated until poof gone.

.

So highschool just let out, and Ciri is a feral teenager that takes very much after her late grandmother and Yennifer, and she's looking for a summer job. Boom 💫 Now she's low-key tormenting her uncle Lambert and trying to play matchmaker with these two ridiculous men and an exasperated uncle Aiden.

....

And I have no steam left in this plot bunny that dragged me through bullet points but here it is thank you for coming to my 1,000 word TED talk. If anyone bothered to get this far I both congratulate you and worry for your sleep schedule. You should probably be sleeping

[abluescarfonwaston]

The wolves all go out of there way to bring home a few books every winter. Just whatever they can find and fit in their bags. They won't ever be able to replace the library they lost during the sacking but the slowly growing collection does give then something else to do during the long winter nights.

It also becomes a bit of a competition- as it always does between them - to bring the best book, the book with the most interesting story of how they acquired it, and the most Valuable book (the definition of which changes every year).

Lambert makes it his goal every year to bring the most indecent romance novels he can. I'm talking novels labeled Erotic. I'm talking Porn with just enough plot to get published. Sometimes the others will try to one up him by bringing something even steamier. No one has ever beaten Lambert though.

Much to Vesemir horror the new library is a majority erotic novels (which they do try to hide from Ciri when she arrives).

One year Lambert brings home a story about a wandering knight and his faithful squire. He likes to read excepts to the wolves to get back at them for insulting his cooking, ripping the fancy blanket he won last year, beating him at qwent. Any opportunity really.

And the first few chapters are them going to brothels and wooing ladies. the standard stuff.

But then. Then they start sharing beds and brothels and the other partners just. fall away and they're Only with each other.

Lambert LOVES reading this to Geralt especially cause it can Actually make Geralt blush and run from the room. He's NEVER managed that with Geralt. Fuck YEAH.

And Geralts Dying. Because he recognized the prose during the First Chapter. and the pen name the writer used.

Dandelion.

Jaskier had written a gay romance novel about the two of them. Chocked full of the squires effusive praise for the ‘knight’.

And then one day Lambert stops reading it. Seems even shorter than normal with everyone.

"Lambert you wanna stop being a prick and read your dumb gay romance novel to us? Promise to only throw food at you this time." Eskel said.

"No. that was a shitty Fucking book and I hate it."

"Oh did the gays die again? Lambert you know they won't get published if they have a happy ending. Just rip the last pages out like always."

"No! The knight went and rode off into he Fucking sunset with that damn princess! Left the squire behind without a Fucking word!!!! I hate that Fucking knight and wanna rip his Fucking dick off!"

"Oh. Huh. Well they didn't die for once. happy ending."

"It's not a happy ending Eskel how -

"The knight and the princess were Fated to be together Lambert! all the foreshadowing was there!"

"The princess treated him like a moron! The squire Actually knew him and cared about him!"

"The squire caused him nothing but problems Lambert! Of Course he went with the princess who loved him and could give him the peaceful life he craved! Not every damn bi man has to end up with the guy Lambert!"

Eskel and Lambert continued their Screaming match. Vesemir appear to be regretting his every life decision. Ciri popped in the earplugs and continued reading her book. Geralt stared into his ale, frozen.

"What happens to the squire Lambert?" Geralt asked his drink quietly.

"THATS THE WORST PART. HE SMILES AND SENDS THEM OFF. LIKE HE ALWAYS KNEW IT WOULD HAPPEN AND WAS HAPPY FOR THEM. AND YOU CAN JUST TELL HOW HEARTBROKEN THE MOTHERFUCKER IS AND WERE SUPPOSED TO BE HAPPY WITH THAT."

"This is why we told you not to bring gay novels Lambert. You always get upset with how they end."

"It's not Fucking fair."

Geralt’s chair screeches against the stone as he stands up - an oddity since they all Hate that noise and actively avoid making it.

"Where are you going?" Eskel questioned as he stroad to the door.

"I need to talk to Jaskier."   

"And how do you intend to do that? Gonna ride down the mountain in a Fucking blizzard Geralt?"

"I." The door slammed closed behind him.

"Should." Ciri started. "One of us check on him?"

"No." They all said in unison.

(They did all at some point check on him)

Ciri was first. with a timid and then assertive knock on his door before she entered. Crawling into his arms and burrowing into his chest.

"We can go find him as soon as the snow melts. Okay?"

"I don't think he'd be very excited to see me." He mourned tucking her closer and burying his nose in her hair.

"It's Jaskier." She said simply about a man she only knew from their stories. "He's always excited to see you."

"You going to Brood all winter or do you actually want to figure out how to apologize wolf?" Eskel asked dragging him to the courtyard for a spar.

"There's nothing I can do. He'll never forgive me."

"Oh like he'd Never forgive you for the Djinn? Or for ripping his favorite doublet? Or telling him his singing sucked?" Eskel landed a hard jab. "And what happened every one of those times he'd Never forgive you?"

"That's different." He said returning the blow.

"Uh huh. Guess we'd better make sure you've got a damn good apology ready then?" Eskel smiled easily like he knew the punchline to a very funny joke. "Tell me what happened."

So he did.

Vesemir eased into the spring water across from him with a groan. He wondered how long he had before Vesemir started making fun of how long he spent in the bath again. Longer than if it was Eskel or Lambert at least.

They sat there and a question curdled in his belly until it forced its way out.

"How are we supposed to not get attached?"

"I think we're well past that point lad."

"But How? I can't. All these years and I still can't." He buried his head in his hands so he couldn't see how he'd failed Vesemir yet again.

"If I knew I'd tell you Geralt." Vesemir said, exhausted.

He glanced up and was Viscerally reminded how much Vesemir had lost over the long centuries of his life.

How he'd seen the school founded and fall. How he'd known every child who'd walked these halls and died in them.

How he knew exactly how many had died in the raid.

He remembered how Vesemir had fallen to pieces when the last Witcher he'd ever teach, Leo, had died.

And he remembered how Vesemir put himself back together for them.

"I can't. I can't Vesemir." If Ciri or Eksel or Lambert or Vesemir or Jaskier died. "I'm not as strong as you. I Can't."

"You will. You are." Vesemir squeezed his shoulder as he stood. "Make it worth the loss Geralt."

He sunk into the hot water and wondered how it could be.

He was half asleep when the door Slammed open and only had half a second before Lambert was cannon-balling into his chest.

"FIXED IT!"

He breathed through the pain. "Fix my ribs ass."

"You're fine whiny old man." Lambert shoved a book under his nose. the scent of barely dried ink filling his nostrils. "Read it!"

"Just tell me what happened. I'm not reading your handwriting in the dark." He said shoving it back.

"It's better than yours!" It wasn't. "The knight gets his head out of his ass and tells the squire he loves him and they go on countless more adventures." he puffed up proudly.

"And the princess? what happens to her?"

Lambert scowled at him. "Who gives a fuck about the princess?"

‘I do.’ He thought. "The knight does." He said.

"Ugh. uh. she meets another princess and they go ride off into there own sunset. okay? Happy you ungrateful prick?"

He smiled in a way that made Lambert gag. "I think that's a much better ending Lambert."

"Of course it is!" He preened from atop Geralt. Toes digging into his abdomen painfully.

"Now get out of my room or I'll throw you into the snow bank Lambert."

Lambert tried to call him on the threat so he made to make good on it. Lambert dashed from the room with a crass gesture.

That did sound like a better ending. He gripped his medallion and hoped that in the spring they'd get that ending.

An ending that lead into a very very happy beginning of something new.

[j-pankratz]

Move Like Grey Skies

Trissbert! For real! Inspired by the Febuwhump prompt Shrapnel.

Lambert is hit with shrapnel from a blast. The ever-suffering Triss runs over to help. It's, maybe a little worse than she was expecting, and sometimes getting caught up in the moment means owning up to your inconvenient affections.

1883 words. Can also be read here on ao3! Rated T for canon-typical violence and discussions of pain/blood/wounds.

Other tags include: Two Curly Hair Fools In Love, Lambert is SOFT looking at Triss, this is a very simple fic of laying on the ground and being tended to that is all!!!

x

It hadn’t been smart to leap into the fray like Lambert had. Luckily, he never claimed to be smart.

The blast that had gone off near him had knocked him off his feet by the sheer force of it, and only after he’d hit the ground had he felt the brutally sharp stabs of pain leftover from the shrapnel. Rocks, maybe shale, could be thorns, hell, could be broken knives and metalware, he didn’t know. He was littered with them though, all down his right side, from the chest down. Well— he brought a hand up to feel along his clavicle, then face— maybe he’d gotten a few nicks higher as well.

He’d been knocked to the ground for a few seconds before he even registered what had happened. Which was saying something, given he was a Witcher— maybe one of the pieces had nicked something important, or maybe his head had hit the ground harder than he’d realized. For a moment, everything sounded muted, distant, but slowly the sounds of battle raged on— screaming and the sound of chaos ripping the ground asunder filled his ears. The ground rumbled with footfall and blasts; the grass was still dewy beneath him, and growing damper— oh. Well, that would be his blood, wouldn’t it? His ears rang and each wound made itself known with jolts of pain searing through him. His back reflexively arched a bit in an effort to escape the pain as he screamed, to of course no avail. He squeezed his eyes tight, tried to gather himself enough to rise, when he heard a familiar voice rise above the din.

“Lambert?!”

He opened his eyes, met with the small remnants of the clear blue sky clouded with smoke, shots of magic, and arrows, and he smiled. Atta mage. Wouldn’t be long now.

“Idiot,” Triss hissed as she slid to the ground beside him, ducking to avoid an arrow. She threw up a small protection charm to shield them, and began shifting Lambert around, looking for wounds. “Look what you get yourself into.”

“No sympathy for the fallen? I’m out here busting my ass!”

“Lambert, Eskel’s goat has more tactical intelligence that to just jump into a battle without proper protections.”

“You’re full of shit.”

“And you’re full of shrapnel.”

He huffed a laugh. “Got me there, Merigold.”

She rolled her eyes but it wasn’t long before her brows creased in concentration, in… something else, as she scanned his chest, assessing his wounds. If Lambert wasn’t mistaken, that was concern on her face, and maybe pain. Was she wounded? Was she tending to him before herself? Triss was smart, sure, but she was also one hell of a martyr sometimes. In all the years of knowing her, he hadn’t known her to give attention to things not worth her time, unless she needed a distraction. Unless it was—

“What, you worried about me?” he tried to joke. Her expression didn't waver from a steady frown.

“Quiet, I have to focus.”

She moved what little armor he had on to the side, moved his shirt and ran lithe fingers up and down his side. He hissed in pain a moment as she touched a particularly shredded spot, and she quickly moved on, whispering an apology. Lambert shook his head frowned, going to clear his throat but it came out as a sputtering cough— he could taste blood.

“Shhh,” Triss was saying; “Stop fighting it, just stay awake long enough for me to do this, come on Lambert—”

“Merigold,” he interrupted. He was surprised to find she looked to him immediately, searching his face in a panic. Triss was wound tight, sure, but this wasn’t normal for her at all. In fact, her face was flushed and her eyes were shining. It was just wrong. Lambert looked at her questioningly, he could feel his eyes widen to take her in and he reached up to touch her face with the back of his hand. Her skin was soft, dirty from the debris of battle but still so sort, so warm. The warmth was probably the blood pumping from all her adrenaline but— whatever. “Merigold. Are you alright?”

She opened her mouth to respond, but seemed not to be able to find the words.

“Triss?”

“I— you’re— I’m fine, Lambert, you’re the one who’s—”

“In fine hands.”

He let his hand fall from her cheek only to be caught by hers, fingers tangling in a desperate squeeze. This close, he could feel the speed of her heart like a butterfly’s wing, rapid and fluttery and mesmerizing all at once.

“I can heal you, but it’s going to take time, and we’re out here exposed.”

“You’ve got the… thing up. We’re fine,” Lambert said, but in sending the protective dome a glance he saw how much it wavered. “I’ll be fine. Witcher healing, yeah?”

“We don’t have time for witcher healing, Lambert! Just— I’m fine. Let me do this.”

“Okay,” he surrendered. Must be the knock he’d had on his head, or the blood loss, or something. Triss let his hand go gently and Lambert could feel his face pinched as he gazed at her, working. Behind them, the last of the blue in the sky had faded, turning everything grey, clouds and smoke swaying with the chaos flying. But hovering above him and lit from behind by the echo of sun and from zips of magic flying, her buoyant curls turned into a halo. Her gentle eyes were focused and sharp, and he followed their movements, the way they danced, wanting to move with them.

Triss gave the protective charm another wave and it refortified before turning back to his wounds and whispering charms over him. Slowly, one by one, the bits of shrapnel were worked out of his body. He bit back groans and yelps, until finally it seemed all of them were out, and all that was left was to close the wounds.

Healing, major healing that was done fast at least, was never painless.

“FUCK! You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you. Getting back at me.”

“I wouldn’t— “

“I know, I know.” He hissed in pain once again, and it ended in a drawn-out whimper Lambert was very much not proud to have emitted.

“I’m here, you can do this, come on now,” Triss muttered. “Hang in there Lambert, this’ll be enough to get you through. I’m cutting corners, I’ll need to see to these later, but it should hold up. You’ll have to come back to me in one piece though.”

“Jus’ making excuses to see me.”

Triss didn’t respond, but Lambert felt the last of the bleeding wounds seal up, took a stuttering breath as he felt new, tight skin expand. She leaned in close, cupping Lambert’s cheek. He could feel his own unnaturally slow heartbeat quicken a pace and her sweet breath against his lips. “Don’t die,” she said, simple but forceful.

“No promises,” he tried to snark back. It didn’t have the bite in it he’d meant it to have, though. It felt small. It felt honest. His eyes darted back and forth, taking all of her in as she blocked out the world around them. She huffed a frustrated breath and cupped his other cheek.

If you asked him later, Lambert would swear he knew it was coming. He’d say that actually, it’s what he’d been gunning for the whole time, that he’d been setting up for it, maybe he’d even say that he was the one who’d leaned in in the first place, that he’d captured her lips and brought her down to meet him.

This is how it actually happens:

Triss rubs blood, sweat, and dirt off his cheek bones with her thumbs, her hands softly cupping his cheeks. Her eyes search his face, which looks both as it always does, gruff and the echo of all he’d seen, but also new in this position. His eyes wide, searching, his hair splayed beneath him, something earnest and almost delicate, apprehensive in the curve of his brow. She can’t help but notice how open his expression is, how often his eyes dart to her lips. In all this chaos, in all this hell, she had been pushing back her inconvenient attraction to Lambert as far as she could. Her hands had begun to shake when she’d seen him littered with shrapnel, and all she could think now, holding his face, was how she might not ever be able to do this again. And what did she have to lose really? Only him, only every chance she had with him. Flirtations were fun because they could be something more, and if she died, if he died, if everything could end here and now and she didn’t take this moment—

“Fuck it,” she breathed, and leaned in, kissing him soundly.

Lambert’s eyes remained open in shock. Triss’ lips slid against his, and it only took a moment of that soft, simple warmth before his eyes shut tight and a hand flew up to cradle the back of her head, thick fingers running through her hair. He pressed her close, or meant to, but she was already pressing against him, slipping her tongue in. The one thing Lambert would not lie about, if you asked him about the kiss, is that never in a million years did he expect they’d know each other’s bodies so well, so fast. They moved like they’d been kissing for years, like every jab they’d thrown at each other was simply an effort to see how the other’s mouth would twist and turn so they could study it.

It was frighteningly natural and completely overpowering. And as suddenly as Triss had started the kiss she broke it, tearing away. They both gasped for breath.

“Stay. Alive.” She said more firmly this time.

“Will there be more of that? I’ll stay alive for more of that.” She did not look amused. Lambert played with the handful of her hair he still had as he slowly withdrew it. “Your wish is my command, Merigold.”

“Good.” She drew back, and brushed off some of her dress, began to gather herself up to stand. Lambert propped himself on one elbow, watched her move, couldn’t help be pulled in by her current and began to get up himself. But she was only an arm’s length away, and he might now have another chance.

“Merigold. Triss,” he said, a hand coming to her shoulder. The protective ward around them rippled as it sustained another hit— they didn’t have long before they’d have no choice but to bolt. Triss met his gaze, and before she could ask, he said, “Stay alive. Please.”

She blinked, and then smiled. And wasn’t that a relief to see in all of this. “Only because you asked nicely.”

Lambert gave a squeeze of her shoulder— he was never going to live down having said please to Triss fucking Merigold, but it would be worth it. The protective charm wobbled again— it was time to move. He moved behind her, an effort to shield her small frame with his bulk.

“Now?”

Triss nodded. “On my count. Three, two, one—” she dropped the protective charm and they ran, moving in tandem, side by side beneath the grey skies.

[contemplativepancakes]

the thorny heart of a wolf

3.5k of it being increasingly obvious that Jaskier has written a romance novel about Geralt while Geralt is increasingly oblivious. read this and my other witcher fics on ao3 here!

Geralt stirs the smoldering logs, brooding as the poker makes ash and ember drift up. His nose twitches at the smokiness of it, but it reminds him of comforting nights spent near the fire with good food and better company. Geralt rarely makes a fire when he’s by himself, but Jaskier insists on complaining about his cold feet all night if Geralt doesn’t keep their campsite warm enough. 

Eskel clears his throat obnoxiously, making Geralt look up at him. It’s a rare night in the keep where Vesemir couldn’t think of any additional chores or maintenance that needed done, so they had scurried away before something came to him. 

Geralt peers at the book in Eskel’s hand, not recognizing it from the library. It’s a garish purple that’s frankly an affront to Geralt’s eyes. “What are you reading?” 

Eskel snaps it shut. “Nothing.”

Geralt quirks an eyebrow. “I’m sure you won’t mind me taking a look at it, then.”

“Geralt, really, I’m just trying to protect you from yourself.”

Geralt holds his hand out, and Eskel reluctantly hands it over. Lambert snickers from his corner, and Geralt levels him with a glare. Even Aiden looks amused, and Geralt’s mood sours at the laugh at his apparent expense. He looks at the cover in surprise. Luminescent yellow eyes peer back at him from a shirtless man with an impressive abdomen. Geralt thumbs through the book, and the word witcher catches his eye. “This is about...us?”

He looks back down at it, eyebrows lifting in surprise as graphic descriptions leap off the page at him. “Is this a romance?” he asks incredulously. 

“‘And he prodded the smaller man’s backdoor with his throbbing meat stick, plunging in with a wet squelch,’” Lambert quotes. “Yeah, I think it’s a romance.”

Geralt makes a face and throws the book at Lambert. Aiden catches it right before it hits Lambert square in the nose, and Geralt shakes his head. “Should have let it hit the ass. It’s the least he deserves.”

“Hey, I haven’t even told you the best part yet,” Lambert says. “We’re pretty sure it’s about you.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Geralt scoffs, glancing at Eskel with narrowed eyes. 

Eskel’s look does not exactly inspire confidence. “You and the main character do have a suspicious amount of shared scars.”

“Coincidence.”

Eskel bites his lip, but he doesn’t say anything else. He’ll let Geralt live in blissful ignorance for now. 

Lambert pages through the book, his head laying back on Aiden’s lap. “Did you get a new scar on your ass since last winter?”

The meat of Geralt’s ass where a griffin tore into him twinges. “Fuck off.”

-

Geralt is two hours out on his journey away from Kaer Mohren when he feels a hard edge digging into him from his pack. He adjusts it, trying to stop whatever it is from poking him, but it’s bulky and it won’t settle right. Geralt digs a hand into his pack, fishing around until he finds it. It’s a—book? Geralt pulls it out and squints at the cover, recognizing it as what Eskel had been reading. No doubt one of his brothers had thought this would be a funny joke. Geralt considers tossing it alongside the road, but as he looks thoughtfully at the cover with two shirtless men clutching at each other, his curiosity wins out. The Thorny Heart of a Wolf, the cover says.

He tucks it back into his satchel.

Later, after the sun has set, and he’s gone as far as he can for the day—certainly not travelling in the vague direction of Oxenfurt to see whose path his own might end up crossing—Geralt pulls out the book. He flips through pages at the beginning, reading that the witcher’s love interest is a viscount. Geralt huffs a laugh under his breath that someone resembling anything close to nobility would willingly follow around a witcher. 

Geralt thumbs through it until he reaches the middle, a faint blush rising to his cheeks as his eyes flicker across the page. 

The witcher moaned at the sight of his lover stroking himself as he leaned against the tree. Eric’s eyes were black, and the color spread to the veins standing out in stark contrast to his pale face. Julian palmed himself through his trousers as Eric moved closer, his breath hot on Julian’s bared neck, his head tossed back in pleasure. 

Eric paused with his hands just shy of Julian’s chest. Julian took the step forward and wrapped his arms around Eric gently. Julian knew just how overstimulated Eric got when his blood was black with toxicity. Eric buried his face in Julian’s neck, scenting him with a deep sniff. Julian wrapped his fingers into Eric’s long gray hair, tugging at the strands a bit and making Eric moan. 

Eric nipped his way up Julian’s neck, sucking a bruise onto the soft flesh and staking his claim. Julian felt his member twitch at the thought that people would notice it tomorrow, that they would look between him and his handsome witcher and connect the dots. 

Geralt presses the heel of his hand over his crotch and resolutely does not grind down. He casts a furtive glance around him, and seeing nothing creeping from the tree line to rip out his intestines while he’s distracted, he turns his attention back to the book. 

Julian caught Eric’s lips in a messy kiss, bringing his fingers up to trace the black veins spider webbing out from his eyes. Eric ducked his head, but Julian brought his hand under Eric’s chin, tilting it back up and gentling their kiss. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, and the sentiment echoed into the night and made Eric’s heart twist. 

Geralt sets the book down on his lap and stares up at the leaves swaying in the breeze. He sticks his thumb in the book, marking his spot as he flips it over and looks for the author. They can’t have any firsthand experience with witchers if this is the sort of thing they’re writing. He runs his fingers over the embossed letters on the spine. Dandelion Pankratz, it proclaims in shiny gold. Geralt hums to himself in curiosity as he flips back to his page and skips forward a bit, eager to get to the good parts and stop having an existential crisis. 

Julian reached behind himself, his fingers slick with a neutral smelling oil. Eric sniffed the air, his senses still extra heightened from his elixirs and shuddered as he drank in the scent of Julian’s and his own arousal mingling. Eric moved forward, catching Julian’s hand and replacing the fingers with his own. 

Julian stifled a cry as Eric found his prostate, leaning forward and muffling his gasps into Eric’s shoulder. Julian brought a hand up to wrap around Eric’s cock, engorged and black veined from the elixirs. Julian shuddered at the thought of that monstrous thing inside him, his stomach tingling in anticipation. 

The first time he and Eric had done this, Eric had squinted at him doubtfully. “Are you sure it’s going to fit?”

Julian had laughed and showed him exactly how well it filled in all his gaps. 

Eric finished stretching him out, and Julian positioned Eric until he was right where he wanted him. Julian sunk down slowly on Eric’s cock, moaning as the prominent veins rubbed against his walls. Eric reached around him to grasp his cock, and he stroked it in time to Julian’s rhythm. 

Geralt swallows hard, palming at his cock before pulling it out of his pants. He trails his fingers over the head as he holds the book awkwardly in one hand, continuing to read as he gets himself off. 

“Oh, fuck, Eric, you feel so good, darling.”

Eric was never one for eloquent declarations at the best of times, and in the middle of sex was typically the worst of times. Eric grunted, but Julian understood the sentiment. 

“I love you, too,” he gasped as he came. 

Geralt drops the book with a thud and pulls his hand away from himself. This author must never have met a real life witcher before, if they think that witchers are capable of being loved, that they deserve to be cherished. Geralt stares at his erection, willing it to go down. It doesn’t, and he vehemently does his pants back up anyway, hissing as the fabric presses rough against the sensitive flesh. 

Geralt shoves the book to the bottom of his pack like it’s burned him, and as he tries to fall asleep that night, he tosses and turns. 

-

Eskel raps on the door three times before he stands back and waits. He waits for ten seconds, twenty, until a woman opens the door just a smidge and stares out at him from the crack. “Can I help you?” 

Eskel is caught off guard at her suspicious squint, so he splutters for a second before regathering his wits. He pulls a book out of his pack, and her eyes widen at the sight. “Where did you get that?” she hisses, beckoning him inside urgently. “The author made it very clear it wasn’t supposed to be seen by any witchers.”

Eskel’s surprised by this. It’s not like people go to great lengths to hide what they think of witchers, and at least this author doesn’t paint them through a lens of disdain. “How exactly were you going to accomplish that?” Eskel asks, in genuine curiosity. Witchers travel all over the continent, and seeking new knowledge isn’t exactly out of the ordinary for them.

The woman tilts her head, considering. “I suppose it was more of a meaningless platitude than anything.”

“Excellent. That means you can tell me who this writer is.”

The woman shakes her head rapidly. “No, no, definitely not.”

“Why not?”

“Well, I don’t know, what if you decide to take revenge on them for what they’ve written?”

Eskel frowns. “Have you read this?” he asks.

The woman blushes and nods. 

“So why would I want revenge? Is there some offense hidden between the lines?”

“Well, no,” the woman hedges. “You’re an unpredictable sort, though. There’s no telling what you might do.”

Eskel huffs and rolls his eyes. For being so unpredictable, this woman is sure comfortable insinuating things about him and not giving him what he wants. 

“Just tell me who it is, and then I can be on my way.”

“I can’t say,” she says, tilting her chin up. 

Eskel sighs. He can tell a lost cause when he sees one. “You know, this isn’t the first romance about witchers I’ve seen,” he says, trying a different tack. 

“Maybe so, but the rest are all knock offs,” she informs him smugly. “They don’t even have experience with real witchers. This one’s the best there is out there. There’s even going to be a sequel.”

Eskel hums thoughtfully. “I imagine there’s been an uptick in interest after that accursed song.”

“That’s right!” the woman says, before clamming up and refusing to say anything else. 

The wheels turn in Eskel’s head. 

-

Geralt looks through the smoke wafting up from the campfire over to Jaskier, who’s furiously scribbling something in his notebook. They’ve just been on the road for the past four days, so Geralt’s not sure what he could be writing about with such fervor. It’s not like there’s been much inspiration. 

Jaskier’s quill continues to fly across the page, so Geralt pulls out his own book. It’s too dark for Jaskier to be able to see the cover, he reasons. He props his legs up on a log and opens it up to where he left off. 

“Julian, wait!” Eric cried. “Come with me.”

Julian looked up in surprise. “Really?”

“It… it gets lonely, being without you all winter long.”

Julian wound his arms around Eric. “You’re not the only one.”

Eric looked inordinately pleased at the statement, and he slotted their mouths together delicately. 

Julian kissed him for a moment before pulling back. “I’m not going to break, you know.”

“I know,” Eric murmured, but he kept the same slow pace. 

There’s a sudden flurry of movement that draws Geralt’s attention away from the page. “Geralt! What in the world are you reading?”

“A bestiary?” Geralt tries. 

Jaskier is practically in his lap before Geralt can think about it too much, swiping the book right out of Geralt’s hands. “Where did you get this?” Jaskier asks. 

“Eskel gave it to me.”

Jaskier rolls his eyes. “And where did Eskel get it?”

“I think Lambert.”

“Did every single witcher read this?” Jaskier shrills. 

Geralt shrugs. “I don’t think Vesemir did?”

Jaskier presses the book to his chest. “Are you liking it?” he asks, eyeing Geralt closely. 

“It’s not bad,” Geralt says gruffly. “But it’s not very realistic.”

“I hate to break this to you, but realism in sex scenes are not exactly a romance writer’s chief concern.”

Geralt rolls his eyes. “Not that. I just—no human could think about a witcher like that.”

Jaskier looks like he has something he wants to say, but he bites his tongue, settling on giving Geralt a disbelieving look out of the corner of his eye. 

Geralt turns his attention back to feeding the fire. “So, what did you do all winter?”

Jaskier huffs. “Believe it or not, I do have a life when you’re not around, you know.”

Geralt knows. Gods, does he know. There’s a whole life that Jaskier has that Geralt isn’t a part of, not at all. He wonders how many of Jaskier’s friends approve of them travelling together. Most likely none of them, if Geralt is being honest with himself. And why would they? Geralt wouldn’t be happy if he found out Eskel had decided to travel with some dangerous monster. 

“I know.”

Jaskier hums thoughtfully. “Well, I had this whirlwind affair. It kept me quite busy all winter, I’m afraid. Not very much time for much else. I’ll spare you the details.”

Geralt grunts. 

-

Eskel leans back in his chair and looks at Yennefer suspiciously. “So it’s not you?”

Yennefer slants an amused smile his way. “Definitely not. I am rather enjoying it, though,” she says, drawing Eskel’s attention to her table, where she’s tapping her fingers on a copy of the book. “Who knew witchers could be so in touch with their emotions?”

Eskel snorts. “Can I see it?” Lambert had taken his copy, telling Eskel he had snuck his own into Geralt’s things. Eskel had laughed at the thought enough that he had handed his over. 

Yennefer hands it over and Eskel thumbs through the pages, humming softly. He had skimmed through it before, but this time he’s looking for anything that might give him hints of the author. 

Eskel lands on the main character’s name. Eric. The name niggles at the back of Eskel’s mind, and he racks his brains to remember the significance. It hits him then, and the image of a young Geralt sitting on the bed across from him and grinning comes to mind. Geralt had barely been able to get the words out because he had been so full of self satisfaction. “Geralt Roger Eric du Haute-Bellegarde,” he had finally said, adopting a solemn tone before dissolving into laughter again.  

Geralt had been poking fun of the ridiculously long names of the nobles, wanting to adopt one for himself. Vesemir had given him a sharp no, so the idea was shelved, and just Geralt took its place. 

Eskel is more convinced than ever that whoever wrote this knows Geralt well, and at this point, it’s so obvious that the story is about Geralt, it’s laughable. 

Eskel thinks he has a pretty clear idea of who it must be.

-

Geralt knows who wrote the book. The thought has been bothering him for weeks, and even though a few nights ago, Jaskier had tripped while he was carrying the book and dropped it straight into the fire, Geralt hasn’t stopped thinking about it. 

He’s decided that the book is mostly accurate to witchers, so the author must have some experience with them—but only a little. There’s no way anyone would write about witchers the way that author does if they truly knew them, knew someone like Geralt. The book talks as if Eric is deserving of love, and while that’s a nice sentiment, witchers are just meant to kill monsters. They walk the Path alone. 

On top of that, it’s someone who’s seen the wicked looking scar on his ass, and that narrows down the list quite considerably. The griffin had torn into him last spring, and Geralt doesn’t typically seek out people to sleep with while Jaskier is with him. 

In fact, the last time he had been with someone was on his way out of Oxenfurt when he had dropped Jaskier off last winter, when he had run into a rather charming bard who he certainly had not slept with solely because he reminded him of someone else. 

The writer has to be Valdo Marx. 

Geralt turns to Jaskier, who is predictably scribbling in his notebook. Geralt supposes he must be composing another song; he’s had to have come up with at least in a dozen this year so far with as much writing as he does. 

Geralt nudges Jaskier’s foot with his, and Jaskier looks up after a few more seconds of rushed writing. “What?”

“I know who wrote that book.”

Jaskier’s face twists into something Geralt can’t place. 

“What book?”

Geralt huffs in exasperation; it’s as if Jaskier is being obstinate on purpose. “You don’t remember the book you pitched into the fire? I still had one more chapter to go,” he complains. 

Jaskier scratches the back of his neck. “Oh, that book? Who?”

“Valdo Marx, have you heard of him? He’s another bard, not that I expect all of you to be acquainted with each other, of course,” Geralt rambles until Jaskier cuts him off. 

“You—you think—Valdo Marx wrote that?”

There’s a sour distressed smell wafting off of Jaskier, and Geralt frowns. “Do you know him?”

“Know him?” Jaskier laughs. “Yes. And I can't believe you think he wrote that."

“Well, I do.”

Jaskier rubs a hand over his face. “And what do you plan on doing with this new found knowledge?”

“I have to...talk to him, I think.”

“Oh?”

Yes, Geralt has to talk to him, has to know if what he wrote is what he truly thinks of witchers. Geralt’s not used to people assuming he’s anything but a monster. 

He wants to get used to it. 

-

It’s not a long journey to Oxenfurt from where they are, but it’s compounded by the three contracts Geralt picks up along the way. Jaskier is generally huffy at Geralt, and Geralt’s asked him what’s wrong on three separate occasions, but Jaskier just says, “Nothing,” with a dramatic sigh and walks away mumbling to himself. 

Geralt has no idea what his problem is. 

Jaskier gets more and more worked up the closer they get, a fruit senescence smell drifting off of him that has Geralt wrinkling his nose at the sickly sweetness of it all. Geralt even makes sure they make it to an inn to sleep one night so Jaskier can perform and hopefully improve his mood, but he just sulks in their room all night. 

Jaskier usually has no problem curling up next to Geralt and trying to leech all the warmth out of him that he can, putting his ice cold feet on Geralt’s under the blanket, but that night, there’s an ocean dividing them, and Geralt doesn’t know how to get across. 

It’s a long night, one in which Geralt manages to get very little sleep because of Jaskier’s tossing and turning next to him. Geralt doesn’t even have the heart to growl at him to stay still because it’s obvious he’s upset about something or other. 

“Is this about your romance this winter?” Geralt finally asks. 

Jaskier doesn’t answer for a long while. 

“You could say that.”

-

Eventually, Geralt finds himself in front of Valdo’s house. It looks vaguely familiar, as it should, when the last and only time Geralt had been here was almost a year ago. 

Geralt raises his hand and knocks, and then Jaskier’s warm hand is on his wrist. 

“Geralt, wait.”

Geralt turns to him with raised eyebrows. “What?”

“Geralt, it’s me.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s me! I wrote the books!”

Geralt’s head spins. The answer has not been sitting in front of his face this entire time. He’s not that oblivious. Hell, his whole damn job depends on him not being oblivious. “My ass,” he says weakly. 

Jaskier takes a step back. “What?”

“The scar. How would you know?”

Jaskier throws his hands up in exasperation. “You’re not exactly modest, Geralt. Excuse me if I couldn’t exactly keep my eyes to myself. You know, you were rather vague about why you thought the writer was Valdo fucking Marx of all people. Want to expound? On how he’s seen your ass?”

Geralt grins weakly. “I don’t think we need to get into that.”

Jaskier grumbles to himself. He looks Geralt in the eye before seeming to make a decision, and before Geralt knows what’s happening, he’s being tugged into a very heated kiss. 

The door swings open, and Jaskier pulls back just long enough to sneer in its direction. 

He slams the door shut. “Fuck off, Valdo.”

[thesleepy1]

Death’s Imminent Door

A/N: I need more Eskel fics. That’s all. Also, writing prompt from @whumpster-dumpster “Kiss with bruised lips”. There was also, “Dying breath kiss,” and, “Kiss with trembling lips,” but I thought we’ll go for something more light hearted today. I thought, but let this be a warning that I’m not good at fluff. Unbeta’d as always. 

 Pairings: Eskel x Reader

 Summary: You’re injured in a fight defending Eskel’s honor.

 Word count: 1651

 Warnings: Violence, blood, injury, language, hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, suggestive language, whump,

 To be fair you shouldn’t have even been there. Eskel had long retired for the night and was peacefully sleeping in the room upstairs. You on the other hand wanted another drink. That was a mistake. 

 Everything was fine for the most part. You enjoyed a tankard, a drop of ale sliding down the corner of your mouth. There was a bard, not Geralt’s, singing in the tavern. Some song about sleeping with a goat or some sort of lucid dream the man had. You weren’t sure and at the time you didn’t really care. 

 “Just like that witcher!” 

 You sobered instantly at the mention of your partner in hand and trail. “What did you just say?!” you slurred, slamming your almost empty tankard down. A tremble shot up your arm but you shook it off, standing as tall as your drunk self could allow. “Say that to my face, bastard!”

 “Oh it’s the witcher’s bed warmer.”  

 “With a dick as big as his, gladly!” You took large strides to the equally drunk man who had dared to taint Eskel’s honor. To your surprise he was the same height and of a smaller build. All talk and no bite. This fight will be easy...unfortunately for you, it was not.

 “Oh, so you admit you spread your legs for that goat fucker!” the man yelled, spit flying out of his mouth. He stank of ale and week old hay, likely a local stable man. 

 “At least he’s not the one letting the horses outside fuck his ass open,” you shot back, an audience growing. The bard was strumming a tone played at debates and tense scenes in plays. He would have gotten on your nerves if you weren’t focused at the scum of the continent in front of you. 

 “What did you just call me?” 

 “Sorry, do you still have horse cu-” 

 Before you knew it a fist came in harsh contact with the side of your face. Too drunk to stay afoot you fall back onto the table behind you. A couple enjoying their date lept in surprise at your semi conscious figure on their dinner. 

 “Too busy getting fucked to learn how to fight?” 

 “No,” you stumbled out, standing on wobbling feet. “Just too busy riding your h-” Another punch came your way but this time you blocked it, twisting his arms and slamming his body on the floor. He groaned and choked out a sob, grabbing onto your unsteady leg. Pulling it forward he brought you down onto the floor with him. 

 Out of the corner of your eye as you fell, a barmaid scurries upstairs to where Eskel rests. “Already cheating on that witcher with the pretty barmaid?” the man brought your attention back to himself. 

 “I wouldn’t dream of it,” you roll yourself on top of him, straddling his torso and sending fist after fist to his face. Your knuckles were bleeding and he was screaming, bloodied face such a beautiful sight. It was a joy before someone roughly pulled you off of him. 

 “Get off of him, you bastard!” a different barmaid shouted, tugging at your arms and for some reason your clothes. 

 “Hold the fucker down,” the man on the floor ordered, slowly pulling himself together with whimpers. Blood was trickling down his neck and his clean shirt was red with it all. You couldn’t help but smirk at your handiwork.

 “What are you smirking at?” 

 “I saw a big stallion in the stable earlier. You were brushing his coat awfully well. One could only think why-” 

 With the new barmaid holding you down and the man on his feet you really should’ve shut up but you couldn’t help it. His fists were smaller than yours but packed the same amount of force. While you enjoyed watching as blood coated his face, smiling even. He was getting angrier and angrier. Each punch was worse than the one before and that was prior to when he brought his booted foot into the mix. 

 Your groans began to fill the tavern but were mostly drowned out by the cheers of the crowd. The bard began a quicker tune, leaping up onto a table to dance. He twirled and sang like you weren’t being beaten to a pulp. The couple whose date you ruined joined the man in the fun, trading hits and cheers.

 The ale in your system helped with most of the pain but you could feel your body going slack. Unconsciousness was edging it’s way into your mind. Sleep seemed like a blissful option in comparison to the beating, but waking up wasn’t guaranteed. 

 Oh wouldn’t that be a sight, Eskel waking up to take a new contract the next town over only to see your unmoving husk of a form on the floor. Dried blood coating your barely recognizable face, your clothes torn and ripped from your still body. You weren’t sure what the barmaid wanted with your clothes but she would probably take them off if given the chance. 

 He would be angry, livid really. Sobbing in the dead of night where no one could judge him. The two of you weren’t the type to constantly tell each other you loved them throughout the day. You showed that with actions. Helping him sharpen his swords, setting up camp, defending his honor in a bar fight. 

 Unable to bear to see his grief stricken face, you hesitantly opened your eyes. They were swollen, that was obvious even without a mirror. And the rest of you wasn’t fairing all that well either, but you were alive. That was something to be proud of. 

 “Oh look, the bed warmer is awake,” the man taunted, taking your tankard and pouring what remained over your head. The ale against your open wounds stung and you gasped, biting your tongue to suppress a scream. 

 “What are you stopping for? I want to mark up this pretty skin,” the barmaid snarled behind you with a grin. The tavern suddenly grew quiet. Even the bard stopped playing, stepping down from the table, his eyes never left what was behind you. 

 Your movement was limited but you managed to look over your shoulder. Eskel in all of his shirtless, disheveled glory was at the foot of the stairs, a glare and the remanence of potions evident on his face. His eyes were a dulling dark gray, the black veins faded but still present. Gods and whoever was listening you wanted him to stare you down as he took you against the wall. Unrelenting in his haste to finish and rough with need. 

 “Lovely evening isn’t it, love,” you greeted nonchalantly, unable to feel your legs.

 “Care to tell me what happened?” Eskel asked in fake calmness. You have been with him long enough to know when he was seconds from stabbing the nearest person in the heart.  

 “Oh nothing much, love. Just some imbecile, horse fucker, baby killing, grime under my foot, bastard decided it was wise to call you some ill choice words in my presence,” you explained, your eyes drooping in an attempt to stay awake. You were alive, you told yourself. Eskel will be fine. You will be fine. Just a night’s rest and you will be as good as new the next morning. 

 “Would you like to tell me who?” his dark gaze swept across the room. Everyone was frozen in their place, smart enough to know when they were at death’s imminent door. 

 “Just her, him, and those two,” you gestured with your eyes but was unsure how much Eskel was able to catch. He could always smell the blood from their bleeding knuckles, so really you had no need to keep your eyes open. “That annoying bard had something to do with it but I can’t remember.” 

 You didn’t have the energy to keep your head on your neck and just let it fall. The barmaid dropped you immediately, but Eskel was quick enough to catch you. He grabbed onto you, his grip a little too tight in sensitive areas but he lightened his hands when he noticed the spike in your heart beat. A growl was building deep within his chest from the sight of your injured form. 

 “I recommend you run while you can,” Eskel spoke to the people in the tavern, already having memorized the faces and scents of the people you pointed out. He’ll give them mercy, a night before he ripped their spines from their backs and their egos from their groins. 

 “Can you stay awake for me, darling?” Eksel whispered to you, his arms underneath your legs and chest. 

 “Only If you’ll have me against the wall,” you mumbled, barely able to sense what was happening. Before you knew it you were in the inn room, a still warm bed underneath your aching body. 

 “Just open your eyes for me, darling,” Eskel forced out a timid chuckle. An ache grew from your chest, and not due to the beating. Your poor witcher was afraid you wouldn’t wake up when the sun came up. He had nothing to worry about. You could still feel the upper half of your body. That was something. 

  “Can’t get enough of my beautiful orbs?” you joked, your voice much weaker than you realized. Some job you did reassuring him, he sounded like he was about to cry. 

 “Never enough.” He planted a soft kiss onto your bruised lips. So caring in your injury, he made sure to not apply too much pressure onto the wounds. 

 Before you woke the next day, because you did, although a bit late into the noon, Eskel had gone out to hunt. Not for food, oh no. For sport. 

 Five bodies laid in the stables for the stable boy to see; the stable man, a couple, a barmaid and a bard with the neck of his gittern through his own neck. 

[roughentumble]

geralt and roachie

@avrupasya​ asked for a fic/continuation of this post of mine, where modern au geralt’s roach is a stuffed animal. sortve told in, like, vignettes, i suppose?

[read on ao3 if you like!]

The one constant in Geralt's short, stressful life, is Roachie. The little brown stuffed horse, named after a fish with similarly colored eyes("I'm gonna' study animals when I'm big!" he proclaims to anyone who will listen, which isn't many, so he whispers it into his horse's mane instead) has been with him long enough that he has no memories without her in some peripheral corner-- clenched in his fist, sitting on his blanket, overflowing from a fit-to-bursting pocket of his shorts. She's been with him through two houses now. He likes to think that she was given to him the day he was born, that they'd never been separated, but he can hardly ask anyone for confirmation. It's just one of those certainties you hold in your heart as a child.

So of course, for his seventh birthday, a dog eats her.

(The kicker is that it isn't even his birthday. It's a government assigned day that may or may not be in the vicinity of the actual day of his birth. It's not like he was dropped off at the fire station with paperwork or anything. He is vaguely, sort of, aware of this, just enough that it feels like an extra kick while he's down.)

She is utterly and completely beyond repair. Her shape isn't even recognizable, and for all his inconsolable tears, she's gathered up and unceremoniously dumped in the trash.

He cries when he finds her, cries through dinner, cries late into the night, cries until he is informed by one of his caretakers through what seems to be a rather impressive headache that if he doesn't stop crying, he would be "given something to cry about," which...

He already had something to cry about. Hence the crying.

He chews on his fist, however, startled into silence by the shouting, and hiccups softly into his pillow. Even as he's left alone, in the dark, he can't settle-- the thought of Roach thrown away like garbage is one that just doesn't sit right with him. He waits until the house is silent, into the wee hours of the morning, then sneaks on silent feet to the kitchen. He rustles through the trash as quietly as he can, pulling out pieces of his old friend, now not simply in tatters but also covered in what was left of dinner.

He nearly loses it at the sight of her, destroyed and filthy. Tears well in his eyes, blurring the world around him, and he sniffles once, weakly, but he doesn't want to wake anyone, and who knows what they'd do if they found him rooting through the trash, so he steels his resolve. Stomps down on the urge to give into another round of crying fits.

The night air is cold against his hot, sticky face. It's refreshing, but he barely notices it as he shuffles into a far corner of the yard. He digs a shallow hole with his hands and reverently lays her body inside. He covers her back up, tamps the earth back down with his palms, and then sits back on his heels. He's a little too young to fully understand what goes on in a funeral-- he's never seen one before, after all-- but he's seen TV, and he knows you're supposed to say something nice, so he says something to the effect of "Roachie was the bestest friend, an' the prettiest horse, there ever was in the whole entire world," and then sits in silence for a few moments longer, sniffling in the cold night air.

He suddenly recalls headstones, and he doesn't have any rocks-- doesn't know how to carve words into one-- but he does see a stick nearby. He shoves it in the ground like a stake and looks over his work. About as good as any grave dug by a seven-year-old could hope to be. He stays there until the cold starts making the tip of his nose and the joints of his fingers hurt, and then he stumbles back inside and curls up in bed.

He's moved to a new house a week later.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

He starts skipping lunches. He goes to school hungry, and comes home hungrier, and devours his dinners in this new house voraciously.

Every penny that would be spent on school lunches gets shoved in his pocket, then consolidated and shoved in his sock drawer when he gets home. Once he's gotten a decently-sized pile, he gathers it all up in his tiny little fists, shoves it in his pockets, and walks all the way to the local thrift store.

He'd gotten it into his head, somehow, that Roach still existed. Some childish idea that'd popped into his head as a comfort, and that got ingrained in his mind as he repeated it to himself over and over at night. He'd seen the rags, of course, what'd become of her after the dog had had it's way, he knew she was buried in the dirt a state away... but the core "soul" of his Roachie, that'd been with him and loved him and cared for him, was out there, in some other brown stuffed horse, waiting to be found again.

He marches into the toy section in the back of the thrift store with the determination of a soldier on a rescue mission.

And at the bottom of the bin, underneath all the teddy bears and off-brand babydolls, is one single brown stuffed horse.

Logic would dictate a coincidence-- but to his little eyes it looks a lot like magic.

He snatches her up instantly and runs to the front of the store, lest anything come and rip her from his arms again. He has to stand on his tip-toes, but he pushes her up on the counter, then pushes over the pile of money and asks if it's enough. The old lady looks at his pile, then pushes her glasses down the bridge of her nose to get a better look at the tag on the horse's ear. She squints, then glances at his wide, desperate eyes. "Well!" She announces. "Would you look at that. That's the exact right amount. Must be fate." Then winks down at him.

He gasps loudly, eyes getting impossibly wider. Fate-- Roach really had been waiting for him! He reaches up and makes a grabbing motion with his hands. "Can, can I... can I hold her, then?"

"She's all yours." The woman says gently, and places it in his waiting arms.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Roach stays with him all the way to the doorstep of the Kaer Morhen Home for Wayward Boys. He's thirteen, and she has a few weak seams, a few patches where the fur's been worn away. She's heavily loved, and he hasn't spent a night without her since they were "reunited". He's worn as well-- tired of the constant cycle of new places, new "families".

A few months later, with no prospect of leaving in sight, he takes back his wish for someplace permanent.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

He rooms with a boy named Eskel, who is about the only bright spot in Kaer Morhen, as far as Geralt is concerned. He is only mildly mocking of a thirteen year old sleeping with a stuffed animal every night, and it's mostly companionable ribbing, so even though the thought of anyone mocking Roachie gets under his skin, he lets it go. Eskel is his friend, after all. Of course, though, because that's the way of the world, some older boys overhear Eskel's teasing.

He comes back to his and Eskel's room that night, expecting to find Roach under his pillow-- he's too old to carry her everywhere, now, so that's where she lives-- and instead she's strewn across his bed.

He's old enough, now, to know that it maybe looks a little ridiculous from the outside, but he's too upset to be self-conscious, and Eskel is nothing if not understanding as Geralt sobs into his shoulder that night, quiet except for the occasional little soothing noise as he strokes a hand up and down Geralt's trembling back.

It's unsalvageable, at least for their inexperienced hands. Neither of them is a seamstress. After lights out, Geralt sneaks out-- this time with Eskel in tow-- and creeps into the backyard. Just like last time, he silently digs a hole and places her inside. That's what you do with Roaches, after all-- you bury them, then you find her all over again. The idea of Roach not existing out there, somewhere, is inconceivable.

He curls up next to Eskel that night, and it isn't the same, and he doesn't quite sleep... but it helps.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

His first Roach had been about the side of a Beanie Baby, and had been a light, palomino sort of color. His second had been more the size of a Build-A-Bear, with slightly stiff limbs and brown fur so dark it was nearly black. The third time he finds Roach, she's a reddish sort of Bay, peeking out at him from behind a large Lego set on the thrift store shelf.

He'd already searched the bins three times and had come up empty-handed, not even a miscolored unicorn, or something else close-but-wrong to show for his efforts, and... there she is, sitting right there, like it's some sort of game. He gasps, and Eskel turns away from the slightly melted Barbies he'd been toying with at the sound. Geralt shoves the box aside and grabs at her, cradling her carefully in his hands. She's already a little on the worn side this time around-- one eye's a bit loose-- and she's right in the middle, size-wise, compared to her other two incarnations.

He loves her instantly.

It must show on his face, because Eskel laughs a little and throws an arm around his shoulders. "So, is this the fated horse, then?" He asks, teasing.

"Yeah," Geralt replies breathlessly, too excited to meet the teasing tone back, "I think so."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Lambert shows up when he's thirteen and they're both sixteen.

He's loud, and violent, and instantly hones in on Geralt's preternaturally graying hair and the shock of white growing out of the back of his head(poliosis, born from stress, though none of them know that term). He's inhumanly annoying, a real pain in the ass, and somehow, against all odds, Geralt and Eskel both instantly adore him.

Maybe it's the way he talks back to their "caregivers", or the way he sometimes gets into fights on smaller kids' behalf, who knows, but the three of them form a little clique fairly quickly. Lambert pretends it's begrudging, but it's not hard to see that it's mostly a front. He's a brat, through and through, but he's their brat.

Which is why he's even in their room-- they're all hanging out, Geralt flipping through a book and Eskel attempting to study, while Lambert fiddles with Roach. He turns her over in his hands, examines the spot where the loose eye had fallen off a year back, picks at one of her loose seams. "I just don't get it," he says, scrunching up his nose, "like. What does it do?" He asks.

"Be careful with her." Geralt says, flicking a glance over at Lambert before returning to his book. "And she doesn't do anything. She's a stuffed animal, she just sits there."

"Well, yeah, no duh." Lambert replies, rolling his eyes. "I'm not stupid." Eskel mumbles 'Could've fooled me,' from his own bed, and Lambert hisses back 'Watch it,' and kicks his leg as he snickers. "I mean, what do you do with it? Give it wots and wots of hugs and kissews?" He asks mockingly. He's holding her by the front legs, wiggling them up and down like some sort of dance and shoving her in Geralt's direction. He's about to tell Lambert to knock it off, trying to bat him out of the way to continue reading when, one of her legs just... pops off. There's a stunned moment where Lambert just stares at the two pieces in his hands.

A strangled noise works its way out of Geralt's throat, and he snatches Roach out of Lambert's hands.

"I-- I didn't mean..." He tries, looking between Geralt and Eskel helplessly, but the tears are already welling up as Geralt clutches her closer to his chest.

"Oh, shit," Eskel mutters and scrambles to his side drawer, which hides in the bottom a small sewing kit. Lambert slips out of the room in between Geralt sobbing and Eskel rushing to reattach the limb.

The fabric is weak enough around the seam, and Eskel is inexperienced enough at sewing, that the limb is noticeably shorter than the rest, but she's whole and in one piece by the end of the night.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Lambert awkwardly shuffles in place in their doorway the next day. "I-- fuck, man, I really didn't mean to..." He mutters, rubbing at the back of his neck.

Geralt holds Roach a little closer. "It's fine," he says tersely, "but no one's allowed to touch Roach anymore. Ever." He says firmly.

"Yeah, no, that works." Lambert tentatively steps into the room and then, when he isn't shooed out and no one starts crying, grows a bit bolder, sitting down on the edge of Eskel's bed. "I mean, except for nursemaid Eskel over here, right?" He says jokingly, and earns himself a punch on the shoulder from Eskel.

"Piss off, ya' little brat." He mutters fondly.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Years pass and Geralt and Eskel age out of Kaer Morhen. They get an apartment, split the costs, because they've basically never not shared a room, and they need all the shoulders to lean on they can get. All they really get is each other, so they settle for that. A few more years and Lambert is shoved out at the healthy age of eighteen-- just like they were. He's invited to their little apartment, and he's loud, and complains that he went from one roommate to two, bitches about how they're both sticks-in-the-mud who don't know how to have fun, and that they snore, and that he'll never get a good night's rest.

It's exactly what they were missing, and Roach watches all of it from her spot on the shelf near Geralt's bed.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Then, Geralt meets Jaskier.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The first time Jaskier comes over, Eskel and Lambert are both at work, so they have the apartment to themselves. Geralt opens the fridge to pull out two beers, and Jaskier flounces past him towards the shared bedroom. "I'm gonna' go root through your stuff without permission." He announces teasingly as he opens the door and slips inside.

Geralt snorts and rolls his eyes, taking his time popping open both bottles. He hears an exaggerated 'oooohh, interesting,' from the other room and carries the beers to his room. "There's really not much here to see." He says as he bumps the door open with his hip.

"Oh, I don't know about that." Jaskier replies from his place on Geralt's bed. "Who's this little cutie, huh?" His tone is light, teasing, and he's got Roach in his lap, playing with her ears.

Panic crawls up Geralt's throat-- she's old, now, and her ears were always a weak point. It's been years since he was sixteen, and her leg had come off so easily back then, so now... he shouts something strangled at Jaskier, maybe 'no' or 'stop', he isn't really sure, and Jaskier looks up with wide, startled eyes. He rushes over and drops the bottles on his night stand before scooping Roach out of Jaskier's hands. He doesn't yank-- terrified of what might happen to her stitching if he did-- but he isn't nice about it either.

He ignores Jaskier's stammering entirely, swiping his hand across her shelf to make sure there isn't any dust, before carefully sitting her precisely where she'd been. His hands tremble a little as they hover in the air in front of her, waiting to make sure she didn't fall, glancing over her to make sure nothing was out of place, that she still had all her limbs. After a moment, he lets out a shaky breath and steps back from the shelf.

"No one touches Roach." He says firmly.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know," Jaskier starts, and Geralt whirls on his heel, grabs Jaskier's wrist.

"Swear it." He says, squeezes Jaskier's wrist tight. "Swear you won't touch her."

"I won't." He sounds a little mystified at the afternoon's sudden turn, but he gently places his other hand over Geralt's. "I promise."

Geralt deflates a little with relief, loosens his grip and lets Jaskier's wrist slip from between his fingers. "She's..." he starts quietly, eyes averted, guilt and embarrassment creeping in over his sudden outburst. "She's really fragile. I... I didn't mean to... just, please don't touch her." He finishes weakly.

Jaskier agrees once more, reaches out and squeezes Geralt's hand reassuringly. They drink their beer in the living room.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Months pass and his friendship with Jaskier deepens.

Then, he meets Yen.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Hmm." She says thoughtfully, arms crossed over her chest. "I like your stupid little horse."

Her tone is light, teasing, and it strikes him right through the heart all the same. But, at least she isn't trying to touch Roach. He pulls her down into his bed, and the conversation is forgotten.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

They dance around each other like that for far longer than either reasonably should. Fuck, then fight, then silent treatment, only to fall back into bed and start the cycle anew.

He cares, really he does, and he knows Yen cares back, in her own way, but it's just all so... much. It's a little hard to take, most nights. As he lays there, unable to sleep, he catches sight of Roach out of the corner of his eye. His bed is cold and lonely, and thoughts of Yen won't stop swirling around his mind, and he just... he just wants to feel settled. Before he can talk himself out of it, he's carrying Roach down off her perch and curling around her to sleep with his old friend for the first time in a long time.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A few months later, Jaskier uses his spare key to open the door to Geralt's apartment after a few rounds of knocking goes ignored.

He's got snacks, and a six-pack of beer that he deposits in the fridge, before calling out into the apartment, announcing his presence. He gets back a muffled 'in here,' and opens the door to the bedroom to find Geralt planted on the middle of his bed, Roach cradled carefully to his chest. "Sorry," he says weakly, sniffling into his palm, "I- I guess I forgot we were supposed to hang out."

Jaskier's by his side in a moment, kneeling in front of him on the bed, gently brushing his hair out of his face. "Oh, Geralt, what happened?"

He shrugs a little, helplessly. "Yen and I broke up." He pauses for a moment, rubbing little circles into the back of Roach's head, and then adds, "For good this time."

Jaskier reaches out and gathers Geralt up in his arms, lets him tuck his face in the crook of his neck. "I'm so sorry..." He mumbles, nosing into Geralt's hair.

"It's fine," Geralt replies weakly, voice cracking, "it was bound to happen sooner or later. We're kinda'... volatile."

Jaskier huffs out a humorless laugh. "Yeah, that you were..." The past-tense on Jaskier's tongue hits Geralt like a bolt to the chest, and he chokes out a sob. "Oh," Jaskier croons back, reaching up to cradle the back of his head, "oh, it's alright... it'll be alright..."

As he collapses forward into Jaskier's arms, he lets himself be soothed by Jaskier's voice, his arms enveloping him, and the softness of Roach's fur beneath his fingers.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A few months later they kiss for the first time there, on his bed, in full view of Roach, which doesn't occur to him until later, but once it does it makes some small part of him wish he'd turned her around. She's seen enough of him, she doesn't need front-row seats to... that.

Then he realizes that she was also there for Yennefer, and he feels a sudden surge of guilt mixed with a healthy dose of shame.

His poor little Roachie.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The first time they fuck in his room, Geralt pauses with his hands on Jaskier's hips, blushing faintly. "Do... do you mind if I...?" He asks nervously.

"What is it, dearest?" Jaskier asks lowly, smoothing his hands up and down Geralt's bare chest, eyes all want and smoldering heat.

Geralt clears his throat awkwardly and lets go of Jaskier for a moment to reach up and carefully turn Roach so she was facing the wall. It's deeply embarrassing, but he hasn't been able to stop thinking about it ever since he had the realization about his time with Yen. He turns back around, expecting to be mocked, but Jaskier looks nothing except fond.

He laughs a little, but not meanly, and wraps his arms around Geralt's neck. "Good call," he says, pressing a kiss into Geralt's cheek, "don't want to subject poor Roachie to anything she didn't sign up for."

The complete lack of judgement, paired with the nickname, has a surge of affection swelling in Geralt's chest. He grabs Jaskier by the hips once more, and gently tosses him onto the bed. Jaskier laughs again, delighted, and opens his arms to grab at Geralt, who happily follows after him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Geralt, look at this!" Jaskier announces from the couch, tilting his phone screen to the side as Geralt scoots closer and hooks an arm around his shoulders for easier viewing. "It's a stuffed animal repair service, but she runs a blog with pictures of the process and calls herself Doctor Beth. Isn't that the cutest thing?"

"Hmm." Geralt hums back. He glances at the screen, scrolls a little, but he quickly abandons it in favor of burying his face in Jaskier's neck and depositing kisses along its length.

Jaskier laughs and snuggles closer, but holds out his phone screen more insistently. "C'mon, Geraaalt," he whines, "you have to actually look. It's cute! You have to say it's cute."

Geralt flicks his eyes towards the screen once more, then away just as quickly as he deadpans the word "Adorable." right into the curve of Jaskier's jaw.

"You are the worst!" He announces, but he's grinning like a fool, and he turns his head into Geralt's affection all the same.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Once the kissing has died down, and Jaskier is seated side-saddle in Geralt's lap, he pulls his phone back out. "In all seriousness," he says, tucked up comfortably against Geralt's chest, "it's actually very interesting. She's really good at her job-- look at this, the bear's practically rags before she reconstructs it."

Instead of trying to distract Jaskier again, Geralt dutifully listens, watching the pictures as Jaskier flips through them. She is rather good, he has to admit, and there is something interesting in watching the stuffed animal go from rags to repaired, in the same way it's relaxing to watch an episode of How It's Made. He 'hmm's again, though it's a more thoughtfully, agreeing sort of ‘hmm’ this time.

"I've actually been following her blog for a little while now, and... I was just thinking..." Jaskier fiddles with the edge of his phone case, "maybe you could... send Roach to her, and--"

"No." He says, swift and firm. The playfulness has left his tone entirely, just the thought of sending Roach anywhere enough to make anxiety race through his chest and his palms turn clammy.

Jaskier's mouth twists into a frown. "Oh... sorry. I just... I know she's fragile and I thought this might help, so I--"

Geralt slides a hand up and down Jaskier's back soothingly. "It's alright. Thank you, for thinking of her, just... I... I can't."

He nods in return and straightens up to press a kiss to Geralt's cheek. "Alright, love, whatever you're comfortable with."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Now that Jaskier's said it, though, the thought won't leave Geralt's head. He scrolls through Doctor Beth's blog when he's alone, gets a feel for her track record.

Roachie is fragile now. Close to ten years with him, and she was already thin in some places before he got to her.

On the other hand, does he really trust some stranger on the internet to treat her right? What if she comes back wrong? What if, somehow, she doesn't come back Roach? He reaches out to run his thumb gently across her snout, looking to soothe himself, and watches as little tufts of fur come away under his feather-light touch.

He's already buried two Roaches. He really doesn't want to do again.

"Well, Roachie," he murmurs into the empty room, "third time's the charm, right?"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

He is the closest to a nervous wreck that Jaskier's ever seen him in the intervening weeks. He'd packed the box with Roach so delicately, gently surrounding her with bubble wrap so she didn't get knocked around and somehow lose pieces in shipping, and as soon as the box was shipped he took to pacing the apartment and checking his phone every twenty minutes. Jaskier thought it was endearing, if a bit worrying.

It drove Eskel and Lambert up a wall.

There were a lot of movie nights in those weeks in an effort to keep Geralt's mind off of things, but inevitably about halfway through the movie he'd get a bit of a distant look in his eyes and he'd reach down to feel his phone in his pocket, make sure it was where he'd be able to feel it if he got an email.

Waiting to confirm materials, what color cloth to use and what eye matched best with her other in his opinion, what to do about her now rather sparse tail and mane.

Jaskier would touch his arm gently, bring him back to the present, and he'd turn his attention back to the movie, maybe sling his arm around Jaskier's shoulders. It was nice, and very sweet to see him so very concerned, but Jaskier did wish he could do a little more to ease some of Geralt's worries.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

There are, as Jaskier recalls, a few posts where people had sent in video of the results, of them opening the box and seeing their little stuffed animal friend all fixed up. And he knows for a fact Geralt's going to be excited to see Roach again, so when the box finally arrives and Geralt sits down on the couch with it, Jaskier opens up the camera on his phone without much thought.

And then has to set it down almost immediately.

As soon as the box opens, before he could even get his hands on her, big, fat tears start rolling down Geralt's cheeks. Jaskier drops his phone on the table without even bothering to turn off the recording, rushing forward to envelop Geralt in a hug.

Geralt's hands grip the edge of the box so tightly his knuckles turn white, and Jaskier holds him closer, runs his fingers through Geralt's hair soothingly. "What is it, what's wrong?" He asks softly. Geralt shakes his head.

"She just-- she didn't even look this good when I first got her and I--" He's cut off by another sob, and Jaskier holds him a little tighter. "I just can't stop thinking about e- every time she... she broke and I couldn't fix her and I h- had to just... just buy a new one and I... I..."

"Shh, shhh..." Jaskier quiets him gently, pressing a kiss to his temple. "It's alright..."

"I know, I know, she just... she's like new, you know?" He says weakly into Jaskier's shoulder.

That gives Jaskier pause. "Love... are you," he asks incredulously, "are you crying because you're happy?" Geralt nods, and Jaskier can't help the little laugh that escapes him. "Oh, my dear heart..." He murmurs, almost sickeningly fond as he nuzzles into Geralt's hair. "Why don't you pick her up, then? I'm sure she missed you."

Geralt reluctantly pulls back from Jaskier's embrace to look down into the box.

She really does look good as new, and Geralt's almost afraid to touch her. Maybe the new stitching isn't as sturdy as it looks, maybe she'll fall apart in his hands, or maybe she just won't feel right... He sucks in a breath and carefully curls his hands around her. All his breath leaves him in a whoosh.

He holds her in his hands, and something he didn't even know was unsettled, settles in his chest.

As he presses her close to his chest, she still feels like Roach.

Except now she looks like herself again. Whole and complete and strong.

"Thank you," he turns to Jaskier and wraps an arm around him, tugging him in close while the other keeps a hold of Roach, "I never would've done this if you hadn't brought it up. I... Jask... thank you so much."

"Of course, love," he says gently, carding his fingers through Geralt's hair, "got to look out for dear Roachie... where would you be without her, hmm?"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"You know, she's so much sturdier now that she's all fixed up." Jaskier points out gently, after a few quiet moments have passed. "She could handle... well. Being handled more, again. She doesn't have to live up on that shelf anymore."

Which, kind of had been the whole point, but Geralt hadn't thought it through in so many words. The tears come back with a vengeance and he sniffles into Jaskier's shoulder, clutches her to his chest firmer than he's dared to in years.

That night, he falls asleep with Jaskier behind him, and his old friend clutched in his arms, and it's maybe a little silly, a little childish, but it's the best sleep he's had in his life.

[afterhoursfic]

Hello, I saw that your prompts are open and thought I might add some. How about using Yrden for non-con? Using it for bondage where Geralt doesn't want to leave any marks on his bard but wants for him to stay in place to fuck him raw.

I love axii but I think Yrden has some potential.

Ps: Don't think how combining those two could give Geralt total control over Jaskiers body and mind ;)

Warning: non con, mind control

Geralt likes a challenge. It was challenging enough having Jaskier travel with him, and then even more so not doing anything with him, he wondered if the bard knew how close he’d come to being pinned somewhere and Geralt forcing his cock down his throat.

The only issue was that Jaskier was helping his reputation, plus he knew Jaskier would be difficult and would likely end up littered in bruises and bites that all the townsfolk will notice and comment about, with enough attention Jaskier might just admit to everything. The thing is he wanted more than just a taste, he wanted Jaskier for himself which meant planning.

He could just use axii, true, but where was the fun in that? It was easy and simple and Jaskier would be half out of it which meant he wouldn’t genuinely get to see what he looked like, if he screamed or cried when Geralt finally got to fuck him.

He got his answer when he was hunting a noonwraith and watched her slow and get stuck in his yrden trap. In all honesty, he got distracted by it, watching the way she howled and struggled, and he couldn’t help but imagine it was Jaskier instead, begging to be let free as he lay there naked and sobbing, bound and unable to do anything, just without the rope marks, and Geralt couldn’t help but squeeze his cock for a minute just to the thought of it.

Unfortunately, he became a bit too distracted which meant the noonwraith managed to get a couple of good swipes at him before he managed to finish her off. A dose of swallow and he walked a roundabout way back to town to get his reward and then to their camp to allow it to heal a bit, but he didn’t bother cleaning it, he wanted Jaskier to see it and to fret and worry and get close until it was too late.

Truly Geralt would be better off waiting to do this when he was at full strength and they were truly away from civilization, but he doesn’t think he had the willpower to wait tonight, it was either yrden or Geralt was going to force Jaskier down and take what he wanted there and then.

Predictably, Jaskier rushed over to him when he came into view, worrying and chastising him as he helped remove his armor and clean and dress the wounds, not that they needed dressing, but he liked Jaskiers hands on him, it sent a silent thrill through him and he had to bite his tongue to stop himself from pulling Jaskier into a rough, biting kiss.

The rest of the night passed easily enough, they ate, Jaskier played, and Geralt slipped himself a decoction to strengthen his signs, and then without much preamble, he stood up and told Jaskier to strip. Sure, he could do it himself, but he will definitely rip and tear Jaskiers clothes apart and he didn’t want Jaskier to completely hate him after.

He’s sure he hears a string snap when Jaskier stops playing and turns to look at him as if he grew a second head “Excuse me?”

“I told you to strip, I’m not gonna say it a third time”

“And it’s a late spring evening, even if it wasn’t ball achingly cold I don’t see a dame here for me to plow-“

“Who said you’re going to be doing any fucking” That made Jaskier pause, even more so than he had before and he even put down his lute, for the first time since they’d met he smelled just the slightest hint of fear coming off of him “For the last time Jaskier, strip”

Maybe it was the way he was stood, or the hard edge to his voice, or maybe that Jaskier had finally caught sight of his eyes, dark as pitch, but Jaskier slowly moved trembling hands to undo the laces of his shirt.

He’d barely shrugged it off before Geralt got bored, grabbed onto the waistband of Jaskier’s pants, and ripped them off before shoving Jaskier back onto the floor, ignoring Jaskier's shouts as he forced him onto all fours and cast Yrden.

He stepped back to admire his work, watched Jaskier shiver, the only movement he was allowed as he watched Jaskier’s jaw and hands clench, unable to even scream for help, and Geralt could hardly hold back his groan and had started to unlace his pants as he watched a tear track down Jaskier’s cheek.

It was easy to force himself between Jaskier’s legs, to shove a spit slick finger into his hole as prep before he spit onto his hand to slick up his cock, could just hear Jaskier’s cries muffled behind his mouth as he pushed his cock in with a moan.

He was so godsdamn tight, almost too tight, as he slowly fucked his cock deeper into him, feeling Jaskier’s hole clench impossibly tighter around him and he hissed out a swear as he started to fuck him properly. Deep, hard thrusts that made him want to cuss every time he sank into that tight, hot heat that made him growl as he curled possessively across Jaskier’s back, snarling as he tried to fuck himself deeper into the other man.

The whole point of Yrden was so he didn’t have to hold Jaskier down, and yet he had to clench his hands into the dirt to stop them from grabbing at Jaskier’s hips, his ass, his neck, because he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from leaving purple bruises across his skin for all to see.

He didn’t even realize Yrden had started to fade, just felt Jaskier start to move a little more, his struggles get stronger as he tried to move his hips away from him, then towards him, anything to try and ease the discomfort of getting fucked into the dirt, but Geralt was too far gone to realize.

He lamented for a minute that he didn’t have Eskel’s skill with signs, nor that his brother was here either, he was willing to give his brother a turn at Jaskier’s hole for a decent Yrden, but he was too desperate to fuck deeper into his hole, could barely form axii as he growled into Jaskier’s ear to ride his cock.

There was a moment of hesitation where he heard Jaskier whimper, watched him bite his lip to keep back a sob as more tears tracked down his cheeks, but then Jaskier braced himself and rolled his hips, letting out a small experimental moan before he did it again and Geralt threw his head back, teeth bared and itching to bury into the skin of Jaskier’s neck as he began fucking into Jaskier with abandon.

He knew he was being too rough, could smell the blood in the air, and knew Jaskier would be limping for days after, especially when he was going to do it again tomorrow night, and the night after that as well, and as many nights as he wanted because now that he’d had a go of his ass once he had no intention of letting him go now. Even if it took him axiing the bard to stay, he was definitely going to make him present every night.

It was with that thought that he came with a shout, sinking his teeth into Jaskier’s neck for a second before he pulled back with a start, licking at the teeth marks already embedded in his neck as he rolled his hips to fill him up with every drop of come. When his pleasure started to ebb away he realized Jaskier was scrambling in the dirt, trying to find purchase to pry himself away, but he wasn’t done yet, was already beginning to fuck himself into Jaskier again, ignoring the obvious whimpers of pain coming from him as he pressed another Yrden into the ground, heard the bard choke on a cry when he once again froze in place.

It was easy to keep Jaskier in place, to fuck him over and over until he realized the low groans were coming from Jaskier, could feel his hole clench around his cock and the way his stomach filled out, full of come and no doubt cramping in pain, and yet Jaskier couldn’t even reach a hand down to soothe the ache, could just lay there as he was made to take every drop of come Geralt forced into him.

Maybe in the morning he’d take a couple of goes at his mouth to really fill out his stomach, watch him limp and waddle out on the path tomorrow as come leaked out of him from both ends, maybe even stick Yrden on the path and force Jaskier to stand there as he fucked him all over again for anyone to see. Maybe he’d even force axii on him so everyone could see how much Jaskier enjoyed being on his cock and label him the witchers whore for all to hear. He definitely wouldn’t be escaping anywhere after that, wouldn’t get anyone to offer him any aid when he had the witchers claim on his neck, stomach full of come and leaking down the back of his thighs.

Eventually, he wouldn’t even need the signs, wouldn’t even need to tell Jaskier to get on all fours, he would just stick his ass up whenever they stopped for the night to get fucked, could even sit Jaskier on his cock as they rode Roach, keep him stretched open all day so he didn’t have to bother to give him a finger of prep. Maybe tomorrow he wouldn’t bother with even that, just push Jaskier’s face into the dirt, tug his pants down past his ass, if he had the patience, before he shoved his cock in. After he’s already bruised Jaskier’s throat with it of course. 

He’s happy not to prepare Jaskier because all he wants is a hole to fuck, but that doesn’t mean he wants to chafe his dick in the process. Yes, from now on he’ll use Jaskier’s throat to slick up his cock, it’s not like he’ll be doing much singing anyway, he’s much better getting fucked on his cock instead.

[devendrasbeard]

Don’t Threaten Me With A Good Time

Prompt: Gwent / Games Relationships: Eskel/Yennefer of Vengerberg Rating: E Content Warnings: Switch Eskel, Casual Sex, Pegging, Explicit Sexual Content Summary:  Just two workmates playing Gwent after closing the bar for the night. Things get heated and escalate quickly once it turns out Yennefer is a way better player than Eskel, who loves this game more than anything. Also on ao3!

Another day at The Red Dragon came to an end. Yennefer closed up the last two customers and locked the bar's door after they've left. She poured herself a shot of tequila - a little reward to wait for her till she's done with counting the money and washing the countertops.

The rustling of boxes and clanking of metal barrels from the back room made her sigh and roll her eyes. Eskel appeared in the door, carrying one keg propped on his massive shoulder and rolling another one on the floor. Being over six feet four and with a physique of a bodybuilder, he was definitely a sight to behold, but the whole "look at how much stuff I can carry at once" gig was too much of a show off by Yennefer's standards.

"You're really gonna replace the kegs at 2am now? Leave that for tomorrow and help me with the tables."

"Triss says rolling the kegs kills her back, and I'm not working this weekend, so..." Eskel shrugged and duck under the counter to replace the barrel.

"Oh," Yen raised one eyebrow. "What are you up to that's more interesting than sitting in a pub full of drunk people on a Saturday night?"

"I'm only gonna tell you if you promise me not to laugh." He peeked at her from under the counter. "And don't tell Geralt."

That sparked some interest in Yen. It could be either something extremely dumb or something illegal. Or both. She stood above him with her arms crossed and gave him a questioning look. "I can promise not to tell the Wolf, but as for the other part... well..."

Eskel huffed, having replaced both kegs, and wiped his hands on the towel lying at the counter. "Fair enough. I'm taking part in a Gwent tournament."

"What is it with you guys and Gwent?" Yennefer groaned and moved to clean the tables.

"It's fun, plus you can win some good money there - it's part of this bigger fantasy con..."

"You're really taking part in that circle jerk for nerds?" Yen interrupted him and made a scrawny face. "Nothing more boring than sitting around, throwing some cards on the table and letting other nerds cream themselves over them. But whatever drives your fancy, I guess."

"You only say that cause you haven't played with me yet." Eskel smiled at her, that big scar across his cheek stretching a little.

Yennefer rolled her eyes again. "I am sure I would still hate it."

"I could show you some tricks, or explain some of the best strategies to you..." Eskel started, a spark of excitement already in his eye.

"Alright, alright, I'll play with you one day." Yen raised her hands. "Now just shut up and help me with the cleaning."

"We could play after we're done with work," Eskel wiggled his brows.

"Please tell me you do not carry your cards around with you," Yennefer made a wry face.

Eskel grabbed his backpack and dangled it on one finger in front of Yen's eyes. "I actually do."

Yennefer groaned and moved to place the chair's on the tables, making space for Eskel to start mopping the floors. "Fine," she let out a resigned huff. "I'll play with you after we're done, just... Stop talking for now."

*****

The bar was clean and ready for Triss and Yen to open the next day, so they moved to the office in the back room. It was a pretty spacious place, with two desks, where Geralt, Eskel's brother and their boss at the same time, kept all their paperwork, invoices and such. At the far wall they have made a little social space for the employees - they brought in a comfortable couch to sit at, a round wooden table with three chairs and a small cabinet with a mini fridge and a microwave.

Eskel pushed a stray strand of dark hair from his forehead and rummaged around his backpack. He pulled out three different decks of Gwent cards, making Yennefer snort at the sight of it.

"Never thought you'd be such a nerd." She stuck her tongue out in a mocking gesture, but Eskel let it slide, his head already focused on the game.

"Okay, so you can pick your faction from these cards - I have Nilfgaard, monsters..."

"Just gimme any and let's be done with this!" Yennefer snatched the deck out of his hand and sat at the table.

Eskel sat across from her. He went through his cards with a very serious look on his face and then looked up at Yennefer. He raised his eyebrows with a playful smile. "Hey, do you want to spice it up? Like, play Strip Gwent?"

He was ready to hear a mocking comment or being straight up laughed at, but no, Yennefer leaned back in her chair and took in the sight of him. There was a spark in her eyes that made Eskel feel very naked and very small. She propped her hands on her knees, sitting up wide and grinned.

"So, here are the rules." She moved straight to business, like always, and Eskel was so ready to play. "Whoever loses a round, takes a piece of clothing off. Jewelry, piercings don't count. Pair of shoes, pair of socks - it all counts as one item. Deal?"

"Let's play." Eskel grinned and took an eyeful of her. His eyes moved down from her face to that tight T-Shirt with the bar's logo, now covered with a light leather jacket, and down to the ripped jeans. This was going to be an easy win and he was up for a delicious prize.

*****

Forty-five minutes later they were still sitting at the table, Eskel sporting only his boxer shorts and shoes, while Yennefer took just her leather jacket off. She was grinning like a mad witch and purposely fixing her eyes on Eskel's pecs.

"I don't understand." He huffed. "You said you didn't know how to play."

"Society would've been so advanced already, if only men listened carefully to women." Yennefer sighed, not without a hint of satisfaction in her voice. "I never said I didn't know how to play, I said I hated the game. And now I really hope you'll put up a show for me, taking those boxers off." She smiled playfully, placing her last card on the table.

"Fuck, lost by two points!" Eskel hid his face in his hands, only to look up at her a moment later, a menacing grin on his face. "But, well played, here's your prize then."

He circled the table, his pace calm but steady. With a swift move of his strong arms, he turned Yennefer's chair away from the table and stood between her wide spread legs, hooking his thumbs in the waistband of his boxers. She looked at him, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth, not even trying to fake disinterest anymore. Her lilac eyes were on fire and taking in every little detail of Eskel's physique being proudly presented in front of her.

She licked her lips as her gaze wandered from his face and down across his broad heavy chest, adorned with thick dark hair. He had two swallows tattooed right under his collarbones and also sported a nipple ring, that Yennefer was immediately drawn to. His abs were a marvel, like chiseled in stone, his hip bones sporting another tattoo - this time of a poison ivy. A patch of thick black hair was poking out of his boxers, and she could already see the outline of his dick perfectly. Yennefer was more than ready to start another game.

"You've still got your shoes on... So if you want to back out of it, here's your last chance." Yennefer said firmly, at the same time looking Eskel deep in the eyes and dragging a finger along the seam of his boxers.

Eskel swallowed audibly, feeling a shiver down his spine and the familiar heat coiling in his groin. He let out a heavy breath and launched himself at Yen, slotting their lips in a heated kiss. He felt her hands on his ass, slowly sneaking beneath the fabric to take a handful of his flesh. In a swift move she slid his boxers off and broke the kiss off for a moment to gaze down at his already hardened cock. "I'm starting to think you've had all of this planned out," she smiled, licking her lips. "But since you have this in store for me, I don't really mind."

Yennefer wasn't small, but Eskel still had to bend over to kiss her, so he lifted her up and made her wrap her legs around his waist. Her sweet breath in his mouth was already driving him crazy and he moved a few steps forward, laying her down on the table where they played just a few moments before.

She broke the kiss off almost immediately, placing a hand on his chest and pushing him away playfully. "If anyone's gonna be splayed on that table, it's gonna be you, big boy."

That sent a jolt of arousal straight down to Eskel's cock. He hasn't slept with a woman in quite a long time, being mostly interested in dudes, so the perspective of being bossed around by Yen made him shiver with anticipation. He locked a finger under her chin, pulling her up for another deep kiss, and then he bend over on the little table. "Go on, take me then."

*****

Eskel was on the couch on all fours, his head hanging low between his shoulders, heated gasps of pleasure escaping his pressed lips. Beads of sweat were forming along his spine, running up his back and wetting his already damp dark hair. Yennefer was sat comfortably behind him, still in her clothes, two fingers hooked inside his hole, her long fingernails grazing against his prostate. Every move of her lanky digits made Eskel moan and whine and throw his head up. His cock was painfully hard and leaking, but every time he reached for it, Yen swatted his hand away.

"Do you want me to take you apart, baby?" She cooed right into his ear, one hand massaging the small of his back, the other still hooked inside him. Eskel only nodded fervently and let out a long moan. Yennefer clicked her tongue. "Needy."

She reached for her bag and took out a simple but beautifully crafted metal dildo and weighed it in her hand long enough for Eskel to notice it. It was mirror polished, slightly curved like a bow, with perfectly round balls on both ends. Eskel swallowed hard, his voice coarse, "You carry that stuff around in your purse?"

"You never know when unexpected pleasure strikes," Yennefer laughed a pearly laugh. "And it gives my purse a mean swing when I need to knock a bastard down."

"You are an incredible woman," Eskel looked at her from behind his shoulder. "Now would you please stick it in me?"

The weight and pressure of the dildo was just perfect, hitting all the right spots inside Eskel. He tried rocking back and forth a little, along with Yennefer's movements, and it send waves of pleasure down his spine and right to his cock whenever the heavy round ball grazed against his prostate. His cock was already leaking a constant thin streak of precome and he was aching for a sweet release.

"Yen, I really need to come," he breathed, his flushed face pressed into the fabric of the sofa.

"Not till I got my pleasure," Yennefer mused and stood up, taking the dildo out. "C'mon, sit up."

She got rid of her T-shirt and jeans quickly, revealing a matching set of underwear, that was, surprisingly for Eskel, in a baby pink shade. Both the bra and panties had an intricate pattern of criss crossed satin straps, making the pieces look more like armor than underwear. Eskel swallowed thickly and ran a hand along Yen's features, caressing her side, hooking one playful finger at the seam of her panties. He looked up at her, his brown eyes meeting her lilac gaze, both equally dark with lust, and she shook her head, tipping his head up by the chin.

"I'm not stripping today," she said flatly and climbed over him, standing above his face, tangling her fingers in his hair. "You can get a taste, though."

Eskel gave her a little lick over the thin lace and satin fabric and could already taste her wetness. A little whimper left her lips and she propped her arm on the wall, her other hand grabbing Eskel's hair more firmly. He pressed kisses to her inner thighs and then again to her wet cunt, holding her by her firm buttocks, so she wouldn't fall over.

Eskel was good with his mouth. All his previous lovers could confirm that and Yennefer was no different. It took him only a few minutes to have her writhing above his head, her thighs shaking, her hand tangled painfully in his hair, as his tongue darted in and out of her sweet heat. She tasted like gooseberries and candy and Eskel found himself a bit addicted to the taste. But he couldn't wait to feel that welcoming heat around his dick, so he dared to make a move, grabbing Yennefer firmly by the hips and lowering her down, so she was sat in his lap.

She kissed him, a hard feverish kiss, her eyes on fire and her cheeks flushed a gorgeous deep pink. And then she just moved her panties to the side and slid down on his cock. The sensation of her tight slick cunt taking him in fully send Eskel very close to the edge. He threw his head back with a groan, only to jolt forward in the next moment and bury his face between Yen's breasts.

She moved up and down at a steady pace, her gaze focused on Eskel, both hands tangled in his hair. Eskel put his arms around her and started fumbling with the clasps of her bra, only to be swatted away.

"What, you won't even show me your tits?" He asked, with only a bit of disappointment in his voice.

"Nope." Yennefer's tone was firm, although her voice was already strained, interrupted with breathy huffs. "I won the game, so now we play by my rules."

In response, Eskel bucked his hips up to draw an especially long and needy moan out of her. Yen propped her forehead on his chest, breathing heavily.

"I'm tired, you move now."

He didn't need anymore prompting - Eskel just stood up, holding her thighs in a firm grip, driving into her with all the energy he had. Yennefer grabbed onto his shoulders, her long fingernails digging painfully into his flesh, and she pressed their faces together to steal one more heated kiss from him.

Eskel moved faster, each thrust of his hips hitting a sweet spot inside Yennefer's cunt, making her moan and wail like a little cat. He looked at her face - the cold and indifferent facade was long gone, replaced by watery, pleading eyes, flushed cheeks and wet lips parted in a very obscene way - and it send him over the edge.

His orgasm hit him like a wave, making him grasp at Yen's thighs even harder, drawing a hiss out of her mouth and making her bite his lip. Her quivering thighs and her pussy clenching so hard on his dick were signs Yen was very close too, so despite his tiredness and fuzzy feeling in his bones, he drove into her a few more times, causing her to make the most beautiful crying sound Eskel has ever heard.

After they dropped back onto the couch, Yennefer patted his thigh lightly, brushed her tangled hair off her face, sighed. "I still hate Gwent."

Eskel laughed. "And I still need you to not tell Geralt about any of this."

----

@witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo

[lebguardians]

I’ve been on a Lambert/Eskel kick lately so here’s a one shot. I might do other one shots that go along with this one it just won’t be like a chapter story like so many other amazing writers on here. It’ll be a lambertxreader story.

Warnings: abuse, drinking, angst, blood

25 years ago...

The Witcher inhaled sharply in aggravation, running a hand down his scared face. He took this contract to take out a few sirens. The few sirens turned into several nests of them and the village leader in the island of Skeillge was trying to get out the payment they originally agreed to when it was a couple of sirens and not a whole horde of them. Having enough of whatever the man was saying Eskel stood at full height, glared at the man, and walked closer to the man to get in his face.

“You’re telling me that you hired a Witcher knowing you couldn’t pay, then lied about just how many sirens there were?” He snarled out. The man backed up, and was stuttering out some excuse Eskel could care less about. “No, no, master Witcher I’m sure we can come up with another payment... the law of surprise perhaps...”

Eskel’s jaw clinched, he wanted his payment so he can start the road back to Kaer Morhen for the winter. He isn’t surprise they tried tricking him out of payment. It’s a common occurrence. The humans always so thankful when a Witcher shows up but when it comes time for payment they either don’t pay, give him less than what was agreed, or run him out of town. It’s gotten even worse since he got the scars on his face.

Vesemir would kill him when he found out he called the law of surprise. He ripped Geralt a new one when he called it and ended up with Little Ciri. Well not so little anymore, she’s a grown woman now on the Path. She would always be little ciri to him. She brought so much life back to the old keep.

Letting out a sigh and rolling his eyes, he stopped then man’s rambling. Eskel could smell the fear on him and was just ready to leave. “Fine... I call the law of surprise as payment”. Just as he finished his sentence a little girl ran out of the man’s house and down to her father. Eskel’s eyes went wide, his head snapped to the village leader, and back to the little girl.

“Fuck...”

Present day....

Y/N rolled her eyes while she cooked dinner. Her mother died years ago and father was drunk of his ass again. Her father sat at the small table with a bottle of vodka in his hands grumbling angrily. The day mother died was the day everything changed. Her father turned to the bottle and left her to take care of herself. He was an angry drunk so she did her best to just stay out of his way. She took on odd jobs around the village trying to save up coin to leave skeillge and travel the continent.

“Where’s the food girl,” her father snarled at her. She rolled her eyes and tried her best to reply in a pleasant voice as to not anger him more

“It’s almost done,father”

Her father stood up and stumbled over to her. Y/n braced herself for a hit. “Fucking useless” he yelled as he smacked her across the face. Y/n hit the ground hard, tears welled up in her eyes, but she held them back as to not give her father the satisfaction of seeing her cry. “That damn Witcher with the scars on his face should have taken you with years ago. You should have died along with your mother.”

Y/n froze. “What... what are you talking about” she replied in a shaky voice, praying to whatever gods that it wasn’t what she fears it is.

He let out a sinister laugh “he called the law of surprise, but the whoreson left you. Tried saying he couldn’t rip a girl away from her family or whatever”

Y/n didn’t say anything. She just kept her head down. She realized she couldn’t stay her anymore and wanted to leave in case the Witcher decided to come back for her. She wanted her freedom, away from her father, away from this apparent Witcher. Her father stormed out the door probably to go to the tavern. The second he left, she stood up, ran to her room, packed a bag with everything she would need for the road including the coin she saved. She turned to her father’s room grabbed one of his swords, some coin she knew he stashed away, and some trousers and shirts. After all was packed she grabbed provisions for the road, got her horse saddled and ready to go and began traveling towards a harbor that could take her to the main land.

A year later...

Y/n was running as fast as her legs would take her. Taking a short cut through the swamps was costly mistake. She decided to get off the main trail and cut through the swamp to get to the next town quicker. She was quickly running low on supplies and needed to get more and maybe find some work. She didn’t see the harm in cutting through the swamp... until a kikimora jumped out of the water and was now hot on her tail.

She was quickly running out of stamina and tried thinking of some sort of plan. She knew she wouldn’t be able to fight a monster. She barely knows her way around a sword.

She suddenly tripped and fell hard, giving the kikimora a chance to catch up. She hopped up as quick as she could but as soon as she stood up, the beast threw her back against a tree. Pain radiating down her arm and head. She picked up her sword and swore she wouldn’t go down without a fight.

She did her best to block and parry, staying on the defensive hopping it would conserve some energy. However, she missed her blocked and the beast cut her across the stomach deep. She immediately collapsed to the ground, groaning in pain. Her held a hand to her stomach which was quickly being covered in blood. She tried to stand back up but screamed out as blinding pain passed through. Her vision going dark. She fell back to the ground, trying to stay conscious but was loosing the battle. Y/n eyes were heavy. She suddenly heard what sounded like a horse, and a man grunting, and a sword swinging. She couldn’t make out the figure as she was slowly loosing consciousness. Everything went quiet, her heart racing in her chest, she gripped the dagger on her waist ready to strike whoever was walking towards her. As she felt a hand, brush her hair off her face, she swung her arm trying to hit whoever it was with the dagger. The man swore and grabbed her wrist. Her whole body was shaking like a leaf.

“It’s ok, girl I’m not here to hurt you” the man spike lowly trying not to startle her. He could smell the fear and was impressed how she held her own for as long as she did.

Y/n groaned and trying moving away from him, she heard his gruff voice but couldn’t make out what he said. She was fading quick. Her fight or flight reflexes still high.

The man sighed, deciding to use axii to calm her. Her body immediately relaxed and he picked her up bridal style bringing her to his horse. She cried out in pain as he lifted her to his horse and he got on behind her. The last thing she saw before loosing consciousness was a man with yellow, cat like eyes and scars on his face.

If y’all like this I’ll write some more. Probably not consistently. I suffered a miscarriage this year and my grandfather isn’t doing well so I’m looking for an outlet.

[irishvampireboy]

Episode 3!!!

.....umm.... Ciri didnt fucking turn him into a tree dude....

See now.... that seems more like the Eskel i was expecting... the flashback. And i get it, he was infected and probably not himself, but they didnt have to do that to him. So fucked up.

Can he have peace after being hacked up like that?????? Jesus.

Noooooo dont give up babe!!!! She's still out there!!!!

This fuckin guy....

ITS THEIR LAND YOU OLD DECREPIT MOTHERFUCKER someone set this bitch on fire.

SHES BACK!!!! AWWW HER FACEEEEE SHE TURNED AROUND SO FUCKING FAST!!!! also.... yenna???? Shut the fuck up.

SHE CALLED HIS ASS A FUCKHEAD HELL YES

Awww does she know Yen lost her powers? (Temporarily👀👀)

Girl.... that was a witch.... does she not get that? Or is she just lying on purpose to get what she wants?

Be nice if they didnt belittle her constantly but the training montage is.... kind of cute i guess

They put him...in a cave??? Awwww poor Vesimir.

Ummmmm.... they feed the witchers to the wolves???? Is that..... normal???

Where did her pretty natural hair go???? That wig is terrible

Ugh....its fuckhead again... what a fucking cunt. Well bro.... maybe you fuckin deserved your hands taken...what the fuck did you do to Falka you fucking racist???

"No one is ever what they seem" untrue.... you seem like a cunt and you are one.

Why the witchers such dicks? Like i get it, she's not a witcher...but she's trying, she has spirit. Just help her without being dicks.

Who are you liberating??? And from what????

Can we get yen a dress that covers.... her body? That dress looks like its literally falling off of her? She's literally walking around a castle theres no need for her fucking breasts to be nearly out for no goddamn reason

Oh for fucks sake. Can someone burn this man at the stake please?? He's so fucking gross and annoying. Someone put a sword through him please

Fucking finally. FUCK HIS SHIT UP Tissaia fuckin destroy his ass.

There we go. Fuckin help her is that so hard. Jesus. She's a little badass

I think.... i think i might be a little bit in love with Tissaia

What the fuck was that? Did the tree have her scarf???

Ooohhh girl has visions. Love to see it. Ohh the trees want her magic. Neat.

Whooooooaaaaa what??? What the fuck is that thing????? Ripped that tree bitch to pieces. The fuck

I love her little hand and leg wraps.

Hot damn Papa Geralt for the win.

Okay but for reals what the fuck was that thing?

The one king, lord, whatever he is, that dude is always a creep in shows. Always!!!!

Cutting off some poor bastards head is what strength looks like??? Okay. I mean sure whatever dude.

Fuck yes!!!!! I knew she wouldn't do it!!!! That man has such a cat-ish face.