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witcher-and-his-bard-archive · 4 years

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Jaskier is good at nothing if not wanting people who will get him into trouble, so falling for Geralt was somewhat inevitable. But Eskel? That one he didn't see coming.

They've been at Kaer Morhen for a couple of weeks now and Jaskier has been drawn to Eskel from the start. He can't say why exactly, though he’'s come to notice how similar Eskel is to Geralt in a lot of ways. He's more open though; more willing to praise Jaskier for his voice and for his songs, and more likely to sit and chat and share details of his past adventures. Geralt never seems to mind, but he never seems to be present when Jaskier sits with Eskel in the evenings.

And that, Jaskier puts down to the weird sort of tension between the two Witchers. He watches them closely when they're together and he suspects one or both of them has realized, but neither says anything about it and neither has asked him to stop. Geralt keeps his emotions close to his chest, but when he's with Eskel, he seems freer. He smiles more, for a start, and there's something different about the pair of them. Something that Jaskier can't quite figure out, but it begs to be pushed over the edge and Jaskier wants to be the one to tip it.

The thought of having Geralt to himself is, he's starting to realize, a daydream destined to drive him to madness, but if Geralt can be happy with someone else who would Jaskier be to stand in the way? And if he lets his mind wander at night to the prospect of being pressed between two Witchers, that's his own business. And it's a damn good thing Witchers can't read minds.

So what Jaskier was hoping might be an interesting winter has turned into watching from afar and hoping Geralt isn't as actually emotionally stunted as he's proven to be with him. And some days it's too much. He wants too much, loves too hard, and seeing the pair of them together is more than he can deal with. Those nights, he tucks himself away in his room with a crackling fire and tries to think of anything but Geralt or Eskel.

And it would be alright if it was just Geralt because he's used to being pushed aside by Geralt, but Eskel has been nothing but kind to him. And he was hoping to be able to give him something back for once. If he's honest with himself, he's been thinking almost as much about Eskel since they arrived as he has about Geralt which is unexpected and, under the circumstances, more bitter than anything. Because he'd rather see Geralt happy than pursue his own desires - especially with someone like Eskel.

Then the weather takes a turn for the worse. They've all been expecting it, but Jaskier didn't realize how much time he'd spent outside until it wasn't an option anymore. And staying indoors means other ways of keeping themselves occupied and while Jaskier can think of many, many ways to pass the time, most of which involve having a willing partner and currently, he does not.

But being trapped inside means being in much closer quarters and spending a lot more time with Geralt and Eskel. He tells himself it's to figure out what they need to cross that imaginary line in the sand, but he genuinely likes being around them. And when Geralt is with both of them, his openness extends to Jaskier. So maybe he sticks a little closer to them than he feels he should, but given the option between being alone and finally having a proper connection with Geralt, there’s no contest.

There's a storm one night and they're sitting in the hall in front of the fire. Jaskier was playing for them, but his fingers have since gone numb with cold and drink and he's sitting quietly now, rubbing his hands together to heat them up. Geralt is recounting the story of a fleder they ran into in Aedirn when he stops suddenly. They've all been drinking, so Jaskier isn't surprised when Geralt's eyes linger on him before dropping to his hands.

"You're cold," he says simply and Jaskier barely has a chance to shrug before he's been hauled unexpectedly into Geralt's lap. Nose-to-nose, Jaskier can't seem to catch his breath and for once, Geralt seems to be the one who's perfectly comfortable with the situation.

And it's not as though this is something new for them, per se, but Geralt is never the one to initiate so much touching and certainly not while anyone else is around. Especially not someone else he's interested in. Jaskier can even remember one particular night in which he was shoved unceremoniously onto the floor because Yen was there. But even now, with his arms looped around Jaskier's waist, Geralt keeps talking quietly with Eskel. And Jaskier’s heart beats so loudly he’s sure it must be deafening for them.

Geralt and Eskel speak in hushed tones, soft and private, and all the while Geralt's fingers play with Jaskier's shirt, fiddling with the fabric until it's lifted enough for him to reach his skin. Jaskier nearly pulls away when he feels Geralt's fingers on his bare skin, but when he looks down at him, Geralt smiles back softly. And when he looks at Eskel, he looks nothing but comfortable, maybe even interested, watching them both as he lounges on his side.

When Geralt finally turns in for the night, Jaskier is almost expecting him to ask him to join him. Geralt walks with him to his room, and Eskel joins them, though he departs first, turning into his own room with a quick goodnight. At the bottom of the stairs, Geralt hesitates for a moment, then wishes Jaskier goodnight and leaves him to ascend alone. Despite the warmth of the fire and the wine, and the pleasant feeling in his chest, Jaskier struggles to sleep that night. And things only get more complicated.

If he thought the night by the fire was a one-time thing, he was dead wrong. After that, Geralt is much more affectionate and usually, wherever he is Jaskier is too. And Eskel always manages to find them, even if they've wandered out in the snow or down to the training yard - not that Jaskier minds at all. It never feels like an intrusion when Eskel finds them, and he can't quite put his finger on what it feels like, but it feels good so for the time being, he's happy with that.

But constantly being with Geralt and Eskel means dealing with the tension between them and some nights, when they're the last three down in the hall it's unbearable. More than once Jaskier has considered telling them to just fuck it out and get it over with; he even left them alone one night in the hopes that they would, but nothing ever came of it. And being with them every night does nothing to help him, either because, since that first night, Geralt has dropped a lot of his walls and touching is now a thing he's apparently, very much okay with. At least when it comes to Jaskier. Which Jaskier is struggling to deal with.

And Eskel is no better, constantly brushing his hands down Jaskier's arms or pressing a hand to his back when they're standing together. Jaskier always keeps an eye on Geralt, to see how he responds to it because Jaskier doesn't want to get in the middle of whatever they’ve got going on, but Geralt only ever seems pleased to see them together. Sometimes it almost feels like he's watching them, and even the most innocent touches make Jaskier's skin prickle knowing how closely Geralt is paying attention to them. And he's not the only one who notices.

Vesemir was the first, having interrupted one of their fireside conversations, but he doesn't seem to mind what anyone does in the keep so long as there's peace amongst them. And Coën keeps to himself most of the time, so if he cares - or realizes at all - he doesn't say anything about it. Lambert has been mostly okay with the whole thing, other than an errant scoff or eye roll here and there, but it's not until one night when everyone is together in the main hall that he starts to show his irritation.

They've been inside for over a month now and with no one else around, everyone is starting to get a little tetchy. Jaskier, especially, is missing the company of anyone other than a bunch of Witchers. And maybe it wouldn't even be so bad if Geralt and Eskel could figure their shit out because he's fairly certain they wouldn't be opposed to having an audience. And while he'd rather be included in any sort of encounter, watching those two would keep him plenty occupied for the rest of the winter. But they're stubborn or oblivious or something and Jaskier hasn't quite figured out how to make them realize it yet. And so he's irritable too, but Lambert takes it to another level and it's not even their fault, not really.

They're playing Gwent, or Geralt and Coën are; Jaskier is perched in Eskel's lap, watching from a few seats away and Lambert is on Geralt's other side. And Jaskier isn't even doing anything. He's had a drink or two, but he's not drunk by any means, but he can't keep his eyes off Geralt tonight for some reason. Maybe it’s the way he's got his hair down or maybe it's the solitude way up here in the mountains, but Jaskier can't think of anything but running his fingers through it. Maybe he'd give a little tug to see what kind of reaction he'd get from him. He thinks Geralt might like it.

He leans into Eskel's chest and dips his chin to whisper in his ear, noting the way Eskel's arm cinches a little tighter around his waist. He just wants to share his theory with Eskel, maybe give him a nudge in the right direction, but just as he moves, there's the scraping sound of chair legs against stone and Lambert rises to his feet.

"For fucks sakes," he bellows, "you have three rooms between you, pick one!"

He's gone before Jaskier can even think to reply. Coën and Geralt share a brief look before returning to their game, and Eskel just shrugs when Jaskier looks down at him.

Jaskier doesn't think much of it in the days that follow - Lambert is irritable at the best of times - and he just carries on as usual. Although even he will admit to being less and less subtle when it comes to Geralt and Eskel. Most of the time, he's trying to get one or the other to see what they're missing, but more and more often his efforts go unnoticed, their attention focused on him. And maybe he likes it. And maybe he doesn’t try quite as hard anymore to get them to stop. But it’s hardly his fault when it’s been months since he’s had any company and Geralt and Eskel won’t stop touching him.

But nothing ever really happens. Eskel allows himself a little more physicality, more often being the one to haul Jaskier into his lap, where Geralt is welcoming but still usually waits for Jaskier to make the first move. Neither does more than look at him and talk in hushed voices or, occasionally, let their hands slip to his thighs. And it's doing nothing to help the simmering lust under his skin.

It takes a few days before he reaches the point of too much and decides he needs to do something about it. Either he needs to get Geralt and Eskel together or he's going to break and fuck one of them himself and that's not going to make anyone happy in the long run. He doesn't like the idea of losing Geralt to anyone else, but Eskel is a much better choice than Yennefer ever was and so he resigns himself to it and goes off to find them.

Jaskier searches all over, even going as far as looking for them out on the balconies, but if Geralt and Eskel are still in the keep, they don't want to be found. He thinks briefly that maybe they figured things out on their own, though judging by the argument with Lambert that he overheard this morning, not likely. And speaking of Lambert-

"Hey!" he calls out, hurrying down the hall before Lambert can escape into one of the rooms. Sighing, Lambert stops and turns to him.

"Can I help?"

"I'm looking for Geralt and Eskel."

Lambert very pointedly rolls his eyes. "Of course you are."

"Just point me in the right direction, I'll keep them out of your way."

Lambert pauses, considers for a moment and turns around, waving for Jaskier to follow him. He does, traipsing after Lambert through the halls until they come to a large wooden door at the end of a hallway. Jaskier is suspicious, but he and Lambert want the same thing here, technically, so he's pretty sure he can trust him. If not, Geralt will certainly avenge him later.

He enters the room to find what appears to be a library, of sorts. Or maybe they use it for making potions, considering the tables lining the room. There's a large fireplace at one end and next to it, Eskel is seated in an armchair, slouched slightly and looking across the room to where Geralt is standing. Idiots, Jaskier thinks, but he doesn't have a chance to say as much before the door behind him shuts and a key turns in the lock.

Both Geralt and Eskel perk up at that and Jaskier turns and pushes against the door to no avail.

"Figure your shit out or you'll be spending the rest of the winter in there," Lambert says and Jaskier doesn't need enhanced hearing to hear his footsteps fading away down the hallway. So much for his plan and so much for being avenged.

Eskel just huffs from across the room and Geralt returns to where he was leaning against a shelf. Presumably, this isn't the first time this has happened to them, and maybe for Witchers, being trapped in a room for weeks isn't a big deal. But for Jaskier, it's a hell of a long time to spend in one place, especially without any privacy.

It takes an hour for Jaskier's frustrations and restlessness to get the better of him. And it's not entirely his fault. Eskel is sitting there in the only chair in the whole place with his legs spread wide like an invitation and Jaskier is sorely tempted to take him up on the offer. And then it hits him; this is the perfect time to put his plan into motion, although plan might be a bit of a stretch.

He pushes himself off the wall he's leaning on, giving himself a moment to stretch before sauntering over to Eskel. If this works, everyone gets what they want, and by the way Eskel's eyes lift to follow him, he doesn't expect his advances to be turned down.

"You've taken the only seat," Jaskier says, lifting his hands to his hips, "and as a Witcher with heightened stamina, I don't think that's fair."

Eskel smirks, huffing a laugh as he spreads his arms and Jaskier takes the invitation for what it is. He presses between Eskel's thighs, slipping onto his lap and wrapping both arms around his neck. He spares a quick glance at Geralt, and there's nothing but calm resignation in his eyes so Jaskier settles himself against Eskel's chest.

Geralt has never come across as a particularly jealous person, so it doesn't exactly come as a surprise when he doesn't respond. But Jaskier is determined and there's a restless energy that thrums beneath his skin. Or maybe Geralt just doesn't care if he fucks Eskel because so far he's made no attempt to separate them. Eskel's hand slips up his side pressing under his doublet and rubbing his shirt against his skin. Jaskier hums and presses into the touch... and nothing happens.

He sits and fidgets and Eskel does absolutely nothing else, but his hands are still warm and heavy against Jaskier's side and the small bit of intimacy is affecting him more than it should. He sighs dramatically, pulling out of the touch and sliding off Eskel's lap to the floor.

"I'm bored," he complains, running his palms up Eskel's thighs. His eyes flick up to meet Eskel's just briefly before Eskel looks up above his head. Jaskier knows he's looking at Geralt, and when he gives no indication of hesitancy, Jaskier's heart thuds. Well, if he's really doing this, he's going to do it properly.

He slides his hands up to Eskel's hips, letting his fingers play over the ties of his trousers and Eskel shifts under him, pushing his hips forward. A wave of heat rolls up his back and Jaskier nearly fumbles with his laces as footsteps approach from behind. He doesn't dare turn around because he wasn't anticipating Geralt wanting to have any part in this and he can't quite reconcile that in his mind. He doesn't get performance anxiety, but something about having Geralt right there makes his breath catch.

Jaskier focuses on the task at hand, unlacing Eskel's trousers and rubbing his palm over the growing bulge beneath them. Eskel groans softly above him and Jaskier presses a little harder, revelling in the way Eskel's cock jumps under his hand. He wraps his fingers around him, stroking him through the fabric and as Eskel's cock swells, the head peeks out above his waistband enticingly. Jaskier stares at it peeking just far enough that he could guess the size of him and he wants to lean in and wrap his lips around it. He wants to take Eskel down as far as he can and lose himself in the taste of him and the stretch of his lips around his girth. Gods, it's been too long since he's been able to do this.

But he's putting on a show - for both of them - and letting himself get carried away so early won't do any good for anyone other than maybe Jaskier's sanity. So he moves cautiously, abandoning Eskel's cock to an unimpressed groan and rising up on his knees. He smiles up at Eskel, slipping his hands under the edge of his shirt and pushes it up his chest. Eskel pulls it up and over his head which is fine as far as Jaskier Is concerned because he's moved on.

He runs his tongue along Eskel's collarbone, pressing kisses along the ridge before reaching the center and slowly making his way downward. If he listens too hard, he can hear Geralt behind him in the creak of the floor beneath his feet and the steady breaths that don't quite reach his hair to ruffle it. So he hums not a tune, per se, just something to fill the silence between the soft moans that spill from Eskel's lips.

Jaskier slips back down to his hips, adjusting to sit back on his heels as he pulls Eskel's trousers away, revealing his swollen cock beneath them. He flicks his eyes up to Eskel's, taking in the lip trapped between his teeth and the way his nostrils flare and Jaskier smiles at him before dropping his eyes back down and wrapping his lips somewhat awkwardly around the head of Eskel's cock.

The shaky exhale of breath is encouragement enough - not that Jaskier needs any - but Eskel's hand slips into his hair, tugging unintentionally as Jaskier's mouth slips over him. Eskel is big, thick enough that he stretches Jaskier's lips around him. but he's got a lovely cock that Jaskier is happy to get as much of in his mouth as he can. Which, surprisingly, is a lot. He's out of practice, but he takes him almost all the way down, slipping a hand around the base of him before pulling back off.

He gets into a rhythm, working his tongue around him and pressing up into every touch as Eskel's finger grip more firmly in his hair. He'd forgotten what it feels like to have someone really get into it, the warm swell of pride and something like satisfaction in his chest knowing he's doing a good job. And something about the fact that he's a Witcher really gets to him, these men who are built to kill and Jaskier is able to take him apart with only his lips and his tongue.

His own cock aches, ignored, against the front of his trousers and when he shifts closer, it rubs against the silky fabric. Jaskier moans around the cock in his mouth, a stunted, choked-off sound, and a warm hand slides around the side of his neck, fingers running along the underside of his jaw.

Jaskier's eyes flutter shut and he hums softly, pressing up as Eskle's fingers dig into his scalp. He's getting close. Jaskier can feel it in the way his hips stutter, the way his moans become louder, less restrained and in the way his fingers tug at his hair, sending little jolts of pleasure through Jaskier's entire body. But he's not going to let himself get drawn into it all because this isn't about him right now. Because as much as he'd love to bring himself off with Eskel's cock in his mouth, he's supposed to be helping. But Geralt's hand slips lower, fingers sliding over his collarbone and down under the edge of his shirt and it's a lot harder to focus as calloused fingers brush over his nipples.

He whimpers, taking Eskel as deep as he can and holding him there. He slips his fingers into Eskel’s trousers, pressing back behind his balls and earnestly ignoring the way his own hips stutter Eskel squirms under him, muttering something but the blood rushing in Jaskier's ears is too loud to hear it. He bucks his hips, clenches his fingers tight in Jaskier's hair and as Jaskier pulls up to the head, winding his tongue around it, Eskel comes.

He curses and groans, thrusting hard between Jaskier's lips and Jaskier takes him as well as he can, wrapping a hand around him to keep him from thrusting too deep. And Geralt is right there, bringing his hand back up to cup his cheek, brush his fingers along his jaw, and when Eskel's hands slip from his hair, Geralt's replace them, brushing it out of his face and gently running along his scalp.

Jaskier pulls off Eskel's cock, his head foggy with lust and looks up at him. Eskel's head is dropped back over the back of the chair, his arms draped loosely over it, and Jaskier swells with pride. He dips down, running his tongue along the underside of Eskel's cock, drawing out a final moan and a full-body shudder, but he isn't granted much time to tease before he's hauled up to his feet. Geralt's nose presses against his temple, drawing back so his lips graze the shell of Jaskier's ear.

"You didn't come," he breathes and just hearing those words out of Geralt's mouth is almost enough to push him over the edge. He's about to say he doesn't need to, that it doesn't matter, but Geralt's hands are already on him.

Jaskier's shakier than expected and when he glances down at himself there's a damp spot on his trousers where his cock leaked through. Geralt's chest presses against his back, running his hands down to curl around Jaskier's hips and Jaskier lets out a shaky breath, his whole body shuddering without his permission. Geralt's fingers creep closer to his cock and Jaskier squirms against him, drops his head back onto his shoulder and bites his lip.

"Can I touch you?" Geralt asks and Jaskier just nods dumbly.

He can feel Eskel's eyes on him, despite his own being shut, and it makes him more comfortable as Geralt slips his doublet off and tosses it away. His fingers move down again, quickly and easily getting Jaskier's trousers undone and pushing them down his thighs. His cock bobs free and Jaskier should feel exposed like this, but when he opens his eyes, Eskel is watching him hungrily despite his own cock growing soft against his hip and Geralt's hands are eager where they slide back up to settle on his waist.

Geralt's lips press against the back of his neck and Jaskier whimpers. For years he's imagined feeling them against his own, how Geralt would kiss him, but it was never anything quite like this. Then again, this whole situation is something beyond even Jaskier's imaginings.

Geralt's mouth finds the corner of his neck and shoulder, moving urgently and brushing against his skin in a way that has Jaskier's eyes rolling back in his head. Then, in one swift motion, Jaskier is lifted off his feet and finds himself straddling Eskel's thighs, jostled slightly as Geralt presses between them from behind. His mouth finds Jaskier's neck again sucking at the most sensitive spot just under his jaw and Jaskier can't help the way he presses back against him.

Geralt's hands slide down his chest just as Eskel's slide over his hips to cup his ass. Warm fingers slip around his cock and Jaskier's breath catches as they dance up his length. His eyes drop shut and his hips roll forward on their own, pushing his cock through the warmth of Geralt's hand. Geralt's fingers wrap firmly around him, squeezing tight and stroking him slowly. It's exactly how he likes it and Jaskier has to bite down on his lip to keep from moaning out loud. He's jostled slightly and when he opens his eyes, Eskel is sitting up and facing him, reaching out to run the pad of his thumb along Jaskier's bottom lip.

"Don't," he whispers, "let us hear you." Eskel's other arm slips around his hip and he tugs him closer, tipping forward to kiss him.

There's a low growl from behind him and Geralt slips up close, fingers slipping from Jaskier's cock in favour of holding his hips. He presses himself against Jaskier's back and Jaskier can feel the press of his cock against his ass and the realization that Geralt likes this spreads like fire through his veins. He likes seeing Jaskier with Eskel and gods, if that's what he's into, Jaskier is happy to give it to him. But, he thinks as he reaches back to wrap his arms around Geralt's neck, he may have been off the mark with his earlier assumptions about the Witchers.

Jaskier groans as thick fingers wind around his cock again and Geralt's teeth find the back of his neck, lightly grazing his skin as his body shudders. He lets himself go limp, one arm around his waist and hands sliding up his chest, leaning against Geralt's body. Eskel draws away, leaning back in his seat, and Jaskier whines softly at the loss, but Geralt is right there to take his place, nipping lightly at Jaskier's lip before kissing him. And Jaskier's hips roll smoothly, matching the steady pace of Eskel's hand as he loses himself in the heat of Geralt's mouth against his own.

When his eyes open again, startled by the sharp twist of Eskel's wrist, he breaks from Geralt's mouth, rolling his head against him. Before him, Eskel is hard again, stroking himself with one hand as the other works over Jaskier's length.

Geralt shifts against him, pressing his cock against the cleft of Jaskier's ass. "Do you want him?" he breathes and Jaskier can barely manage a response with that low, husky voice right in his ear. Geralt's hips roll against him and Jaskier groans, shifting forward in Eskel's lap.

Eskel's hands pull away, much to Jaskier's displeasure, but he's close enough now that when he rocks forward, his cock slides against Eskel's. He uses the position to his advantage, leaning back to prop himself up on Eskel's knees as he slips a hand around them both. His grip is loose, unable to wrap all the way around, but Geralt's hand slips down against his own, encircling them both. Eskel's hips give a sharp jerk and Jaskier doesn't miss the heated look he casts up at Geralt.

In an instant, Geralt is hauled down, Eskel's fingers firm where they're tangled in the front of his shirt and Jaskier nearly forgets how to breathe. He's surprised to see how easily Geralt submits, melting into the kiss though his grip on their joined cocks never falters. Jaskier watches in awe as Eskel's hand slips up around Geralt's back, tugging his shirt out of his trousers and disappearing under it. He was right about one thing: watching Geralt and Eskel together would almost be enough to make up for his own lacking sex life. Not that he needs to worry about that anymore.

He drops his head back, the image of the two Witchers burned into his eyelids, and he rolls his hips steadily. His cock slips between the rough skin of Geralt's hand and the silky smooth of Eskel's cock, a duality that promises to have him shaking apart in minutes. Eskel, apparently, has other ideas.

The bottle he presses into Geralt's palm is small and clear and appears from apparently nowhere but makes no mistake as to where he's taking this. Geralt pulls away from Eskel's mouth long enough to look over at him, his eyes dark and full of anticipation. Something in Jaskier's chest swells and he leans up to kiss his lips, sitting back up in Eskel's lap.

Eskel gets his arm around him again, sliding his hand down his back and down into his trousers. His fingers slip further, pressing between Jaskier's cheeks and Jaskier rises up instinctively, leaning into Eskel as thick fingers slide over his hole. He doesn't linger, drawing back and cupping Jaskier’s face as he draws him in again. Geralt's hand slips from between them, and Jaskier pulls away too, sliding his hands over Eskel's shoulders.

He's vividly aware of every move Geralt makes as he pulls away from them and slips back into place behind Jaskier. He smooths his hands down his sides, pushing his trousers down further and out of the way. He can't get them all the way off without Jaskier moving and right now he's quite happy where he is. And Geralt doesn't seem to mind. He pulls the cork on the bottle and Jaskier settles, pressing his hips back encouragingly.

The first time Geralt presses a slick fingertip against him, Jaskier groans. His body shakes with anticipation, but Eskel holds him close and kisses his neck. Geralt is quick and precise in a way that speaks of years of experience and makes Jaskier's legs shake under him.

Jaskier's erection flags a little as Geralt slides a third finger into him, but Eskel is still rock hard against him, hips rocking just slightly as Jaskier squirms. Jaskier's focus jumps between Eskel's cock and Geralt's fingers, Geralt's lips against his neck, his own cock, filling again as Eskel gets hold of it.

Geralt adds a fourth finger and Jaskier holds his breath as he adjusts to the stretch of him. He drops his forehead to Eskel's shoulder and slowly rocks his hips back, fucking himself on Geralt's fingers. When he adjusts, he moves more quickly and Geralt's hand rises to press against his lower back, steadying him. But Jaskier wants more. Geralt's fingers fill him wholly, and they reach surprisingly far within him, but it's not enough right now.

Right now, Jaskier's half-naked and trapped between two increasingly horny Witchers and if one of them doesn't fuck him soon he feels like he might break apart from the inside out. It's been months since anyone touched him but himself he needs more. Even as Geralt thrusts into him again, Jaskier's thinking about his cock instead, thick and hard and pressing deep into him- He groans, huffing out a breathless "please", as he pushes his head against Eskel's shoulder.

Evidently, Geralt isn't as patient as he seems. As soon as his fingers withdraw, he hauls Jaskier to his feet, spinning him around so he can kiss him. His lips are soft but urgent and Geralt gets him out of his trousers without breaking the kiss, winding his arms around Jaskier's hips and pulling him into his body. And fuck, when Geralt's cock digs into his hip, his mind goes blank with lust, pressing back against him even as Geralt walks him backward. Then Eskel's hands find his hips, holding him steady as he presses his cock against him.

Jaskier sits back slowly, letting Eskel's hands guide him. His breath hitches as the blunt head of his cock presses against him and he curls his fingers in Geralt's hair, holding his gaze as he lowers himself onto Eskel's cock. Geralt dips to kiss him, wrapping one hand around his cock and stroking lightly as Jaskier settles.

Once he's comfortable, Geralt pulls away and Jaskier is disappointed until Eskel thrusts up into him, reclaiming his focus as his hands slip around to hold Jaskier's hips. Jaskier rolls his head back on Eskel's shoulder, breathing heavily against his neck and shifting his hips in time with Eskel's thrusts. This isn't how he foresaw his day going, especially not after being locked in the library, but he has no regrets.

Well, maybe one, but that can easily be remedied.

He glances up, meeting Geralt's eyes, and any regret fades as quickly as it came. Geralt is watching them with a heat like Jaskier's never seen in his eyes and when his gaze slips slower, Jaskier can see how hard he is in his trousers and it makes his own arousal soar. He could feel him against him, but seeing for himself is something entirely different and he doesn't think before reaching out and curling a hand in Geralt's shirt, he just wants to touch.

And Geralt allows him to haul him close, fitting himself between Eskel's legs and leaning low over him and Jaskier. He shifts his weight to prop himself up on one arm, sliding the other up Jaskier's thigh, his thumb brushing dangerously close to his cock as he slips up over Jaskier's hip. Jaskier takes it as a sign that he can reach out and touch, but just as his fingers slip under his shirt, Geralt's attention is diverted.

Eskel beats him to the punch, drawing Geralt close until their noses bump against each other. And Jaskier can't see the look on Eskel's face, but Geralt's eyes drop shut, his lips parting just so. Jaskier groans at the sight of him, missing the moment their lips meet but he hears the muffled sound of Geralt's moan as he reaches out for him.

He slips his fingers over the bulge in Geralt's trousers, tracing the line of his cock before slipping his fingers around it. His fingers won't quite fit around him and his trousers are still in the way and it's hard to keep still with Eskel thrusting up into him, but Jaskier does his best. He strokes Gerlt through the thick fabric, and every time he presses into it, Jaskier's cock twitches against his stomach. He lets his fingers drift, brushing over the buttons on Geralt's trousers, but Geralt pushes his hand away.

He pulls away from Eskel, turning his attention to Jaskier as he slips his knee between Eskel's thigh and the arm of the chair. For a brief second, Jaskier considers the strength of the chair and whether it will hold up under their combined weight, but Geralt's mouth presses against his own and the thought is gone. Geralt kisses him roughly, slipping his tongue between his lips and swallowing Jaskier's moans as he presses closer.

Eskel keeps a steady pace, but as Geralt shifts against them he slows and it doesn't take long for Jaskier to figure out why. Geralt's fingers press against his rim spreading oil over the skin and around Eskel's cock where it slips into him. Jaskier shuts his eyes, but when Geralt presses more firmly he can't help but wonder about taking both of them. He doesn't know if he'd be able to, but the thought of it has his cock leaking against his stomach and he's never been one to turn down a challenge.

He hauls Geralt close again, panting against his lips as he fumbles with the buttons on his trousers, desperate to get his hands on him. This time, Geralt lets him and when Jaskier's fingers dip into his trousers, wrapping around his length, he stills, moaning softly against his lips. Eskel mumbles something against his ear that he doesn't quite catch, but it sounds like encouragement and Jaskier wraps more firmly around Geralt's cock.

He pulls him out of his trousers, stroking him firmly as Geralt gets his other leg up on the chair. Eskel adjusts to make space and in the new position, Geralt's cock slips right up against Jaskier's and it's just a natural progression for Jaskier to pull him closer. He keeps one hand fisted in Geralt's shirt, rocking unsteadily against him and it's almost too much. His mouth goes slack as Geralt's hips roll fluidly against his own and Jaskier knows he won't last long like this. He doesn't have Witcher stamina and he'd be perfectly happy to let them continue afterward, but he doesn't want to come yet. He wants Geralt inside of him, and more than that, he wants to at least try to take them both. The idea of it makes him dizzy with lust and if he doesn't try, he knows he'll regret it.

He takes Geralt's cock in his hand again, guiding him down to where Eskel presses into him and pressing him against Eskel. There's a breathless "fuck" against his ear and Eskel's fingertips dig into the flesh of his hips. But Geralt looks up at him, presses his forehead against Jaskier's.

"Are you sure?" he breathes and Jaskier nods enthusiastically.

"Please."

Geralt gets his fingers slicked up again, stroking Eskel slowly before pressing one finger in alongside him. It's tight and Jaskier shuts his eyes, pulling away from Geralt to press his face into Eskel's neck. Geralt waits, letting him adjust before sliding a second finger in and then a third.

When he pulls out, Jaskier almost misses the stretch, but Geralt's cockhead presses against him, softer than his fingers though wider. Jaskier buries his face in Eskel's neck, trying to contain the pained noises that threaten to escape him because he's not used to having one Witcher cock inside him, never mind two. But Geralt is gentle and Eskel is patient, stroking his hair and tipping his head up to kiss him as Geralt presses in.

Jaskier can feel the way Geralt's cock twitches inside him, eager to get on with it, but he remains still to let him adjust. Jaskier focuses on every other place they touch, where Geralt's thigh is fitted under his own, where Eskel's chest heaves against his back, and he relaxes. The thought of having them both at once, of having two of the most beautiful men he's ever met at the same time, is enough to help him settle and Jaskier shifts between them, finding a comfortable position so he can better control their speed. Though he quickly finds that with Geralt and Eskel sandwiching him, he's very willing to give up what little control he has.

He leans back and Geralt follows him, bracing himself on the back of the chair as he rolls his hips more quickly. Eskel curses breathily against Jaskier's ear, mumbling incoherently as his hips jerk opposite to Geralt's. Jaskier can't imagine how it feels for them, squeezed tight and sliding against each other, but Eskel's moans tell him enough and Geralt presses his forehead into Jaskier's shoulder, lips parted and panting. And Jaskier has never felt so full, every inch of him filled and fucked.

His head spins, cloudy with lust and so overwhelmed by the waves of pleasure that roll over him that he can barely move. His limbs are loose where they wrap around his Witchers, one hand curled in Geralt's hair and the other slipped around the back of Eskel's neck. He presses his hips down and squeezes around them. Geralt growls, a loud rumbling sound that vibrates right to Jaskier's core and he turns his head, kissing him hard.

It's rough and sloppy because Jaskier is constantly jostled, but he relishes the feeling of having Geralt's mouth on his again. Eskel's hips jerk and he slides an arm around Geralt's back, using him as leverage to thrust up hard. Geralt draws back, tipping his head and Eskel catches his lips in a heated kiss.

Eskel's hips snap up hard and Jaskier melts against him, groaning at the way he presses into him. He's close, Jaskier can feel it in the way his thighs shake and the desperate little gasps and curses that spill from his lips. Jaskier tugs Geralt against him, clinging to him as Eskel comes, slamming into him and digging his fingers into Jaskier's hip, holding him down.

Eskel slips out and Geralt readjusts, pushing deeper into him with a grunt. As Eskel comes down, his fingers slip up into Jaskier's hair, running through the strands as he pants and catches his breath.

"How does he feel?" he asks and Geralt rolls his hips at exactly that moment, rendering him momentarily mute.

"Good," he huffs, "really good." He tips his head back to look at Geralt. "Ah- Geralt, I'm gonna-" Geralt cuts him off with a swift kiss, working his hips in quick sharp thrusts and driving Jaskier closer and closer to the edge.

Jaskier whines and tries to hold on, but Geralt's cock pushes into him, hitting that spot deep inside and it's all he can do not to break apart right there. When Eskel's hand slides around, wrapping around his cock and stroking him slowly, Jaskier comes, spilling all over himself and Eskel's fingers. Geralt only lasts another couple of minutes before he's grunting, burying himself deep and biting down on Jaskier's shoulder.

He slips from the chair almost immediately, dropping to the floor and leaning back against the table leg behind him, breathing hard. Jaskier slumps, the only thing keeping him from falling to the floor next to him is Eskel's arms around him, holding him up.

Jaskier watches him for a moment, the way his eyes fall shut and his chest heaves. But he can already feel exhaustion overtaking him and he settles against Eskel’s chest, pressing his face into his neck.

By the time Lambert returns for them, Jaskier is awake and dressed again, though Geralt and Eskel seem unbothered about their lack of presentation. Lambert casts a look between the three of them, rolls his eyes and sighs a dramatic finally before turning around, exiting the room, and slamming the door behind him.

It's a few hours before any of them sees Lambert again and dinner is a surprisingly quiet affair. Jaskier turns in earlier than the others, still thoroughly exhausted, and Eskel traipses after him, accepting Jaskier's invitation when he reaches his room. They fall happily into bed and Jaskier is asleep by the time Geralt joins them, but Geralt is there in the morning when he wakes, curled protectively around Jaskier's back.

They all head down to breakfast together and while Jaskier sees the way Lambert rolls his eyes at them, he makes the - probably wise - decision not to mention it, slipping into a seat across from him.

The day is uneventful. The boys train in the yard for the better part of the afternoon and while Jaskier joins him, he prefers to sit and watch. The sexual tension isn't quite so obvious with Lambert and Vesemir around to tone it down, but Jaskier still catches the odd glance between Geralt and Eskel that gets his heart racing.

He's certain they're a song just waiting to be written, though, given Geralt's aversion to being sung about, it might have to be for Jaskier’s ears only. Not that that has ever stopped him before. He scribbles down a few thoughts, noting the way the two Witchers move around each other, each carefully keeping track of his opponent. It has the makings of his most provocative ballad yet. A shame no one will ever hear it.

In the evening, they retire to the mess hall, just the three of them and Lambert. Geralt is complaining about no one wanting to play cards and Lambert is mocking him, grumbling away from his seat near the fire. Jaskier doesn't mind; he's spent enough years being pestered about learning Gwent that he just tunes it all out now, and sitting at the table with Geralt's chest against his back, he can find very little to complain about.

"I'll have to teach you to play," Geralt hums and Jaskier, warm and comfortable, finally agrees.

"But not now," Jaskier amends, shifting to get more comfortable. Across the room, Lambert rolls his eyes.

"He's just jealous," Eskel winks, crossing to stand next to Geralt. He leans down and whispers something in his ear, but whatever it is, Jaskier doesn't hear it. He does hear the little huff of a laugh that is Geralt's response, and the drawn-out groan from Lambert.

"Gods," Lambert grumbles, "I think I preferred things better before."

#Geralt x Eskel x Jaskier #idk if there's a name for this ship #but i love it #rip lambert's patience #rex writes #the witcher #pwp #be warned

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bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher · 3 years

Note

Geralt gets cursed to have a mini angel and devil on each of his shoulders that only he can see and one of them tries to convince him to make a move on Jaskier while the other thinks it would ruin things between them

oh now this... this is good shit, anon. yes! yesssss!

tw: Geralt has some anxiety

---

“To guilt and love I give a voice,

Don’t take too long to make your choice!”

And with that, the mage disappears in a cloud of dark, greenish smoke. Jaskier coughs, blinking back tears, his sleeve pulled down to cover his nose and mouth. “What the fuck was that about, do you think?”

Geralt shakes his head to clear it and stumbles back to his feet. “A curse, I think.”

“Well which one of us was it for?”

“Him!” Geralt hears Lambert’s voice from his left shoulder. He turns his head and finds a miniature version of his brother standing on his pauldron, grinning like mad. “Hello, big brother.”

“Hello!” chimes Eskel, who is sitting comfortably on his right shoulder.

“Me,” Geralt groans. Jaskier raises an eyebrow.

“I don’t see anything wrong with you. I wonder what she meant by to guilt and love I give a voice; what do you think, Geralt?”

“I have a sneaking suspicion that I won’t be getting much sleep tonight,” the Witcher grimaces. Jaskier shies away, moving toward Roach.

“I’ll stay out of your way and be quiet, then.”

“Poor thing,” Eskel pipes up. “He cares for you so deeply; must you always snap at him like that?”

“He’s just along for the fame and fortune,” Lambert scoffs. “He’s using you for your reputation and adventures. He just wants to use you to make a name for himself.”

“Why would a Viscount need to make any more of a name for himself?” Eskel fights back, their bickering voices unusually soothing despite the topic of conversation, which is actually making Geralt’s skin crawl. He hates confronting his feelings for Jaskier. They’re annoyingly, overwhelmingly positive. “He could be taking a hot bath every night and sleeping on silk sheets, yet here he stands, silently waiting for our dumbass brother to get a move on.”

Geralt takes the prompt and stalks forward to swing himself up into Roach’s saddle. It hadn’t been a pleasant afternoon and he suspects that things aren’t going to get much better. Jaskier’s shoulders are slumped and his fingers toy nervously with the strap of his lute.

The Witcher mumbles, “You can hum, Jaskier. It’s... fine.”

“Oh,” the bard smiles up at him, blue eyes sparkling in the late afternoon light. “Thank you, Geralt. I’d like to try to work out this rather finicky new melody if you don’t mind.”

“Hmm.”

“You could... praise him?” Eskel offers. “You did so well just now, it was nearly a full compliment.”

“Psh, and reveal the secret he’s been hiding for damn near a decade? The bard would be crushed.”

Geralt bites the inside of his cheek to keep from screaming out loud. He’s frustrated already, and he suspects that until he confesses or swears to keep silent about his feelings forever, these two conjurations won’t be leaving any time soon.

---

“Kiss him,” Eskel urges, tugging a lock of Geralt’s hair. He’s established that Jaskier cannot see the tiny Wolf Witchers; the nature of the curse would be too obvious if he could. “He looks so lovely in the firelight, don’t you think? Actually I do know what you think. You think he looks lovely all the time, you just won’t admit it.”

“Why should he admit it? That would ruin a perfectly good friendship. Like you said, Eskel, Jaskier is a Viscount! He can’t stay on the Path with Geralt forever. Eventually he’ll need to return to Lettenhove to marry and settle down. He’s titled, and we can’t expect him to follow a monster around forever, much less fall in love with one.”

“He has never once thought of Geralt as a monster!”

Geralt wants to cry. He wants to rip out his hair and run, screaming with madness, into the dark embrace of the woods around them. Alas, the bard would be Wyvern-bait without him there for protection.

And the curse would stay with him no matter how far he ran.

He closes his eyes and kneels, but the quiet respite of meditation never comes.

---

Geralt is fucking exhausted. His brothers never stop talking. Arguing. Debating. Pleading.

He’s gone truly mad. Jaskier stirs in his sleep, four nights after the curse was cast, and Geralt flinches. His scent is otherworldly and the Witcher’s patience is thinner than tissue paper. Eskel has been very convincing as of late.

He smells like the damp earth after a summer rain, sweetened by something unnamable but floral. He smells like springtime. Youth. Beauty. Geralt whines unconsciously, the sound creeping out from somewhere high in his throat. Jaskier stirs again and blinks his sleepy eyes open. His cute pink tongue darts over his bottom lip and Geralt bites off the sound with a sudden gasp.

“Sorry for waking you.”

“What’s wrong?” the deep concern in Jaskier’s sleep-soft voice stirs the love in Geralt’s heart violently. “You sound wounded. Are you alright?”

“I-” Geralt falters. Falls to his knees in the dirt next to Jaskier’s bedroll. Cups the bard’s face gently with one hand. Lambert begins to swear violently as Eskel cheers him, egging him on. “I love you, Jaskier.”

His brothers disappear.

His ears ring with the sudden silence, the only ambiance coming from the crackling fire.

Jaskier balks up at him, a look of utter terror written plainly on his face. “Geralt? Is this... the curse? Why would you say that?”

“Do you- Are you angry with me, Jaskier? I understand if-”

“No, you fool,” Jaskier laughs, sitting up and leaning closer. “I- I love you, too. I didn’t think you’d ever- That you could ever- After Yennefer...”

Geralt kisses his bard with such sweetness that Jaskier melts against him, his hands braced against that familiar, broad chest. They kiss until sunrise, and then they kiss some more. There’s a lot of lost time to make up for, a lot of poor decisions to be rectified.

But they manage. They always do.

#geraskier #cursed geralt #the kaer morons #kaer morons #eskel and lambert #eskel #lambert #shenanigans #getting together #geraskier fluff #bouncey's endless getting together fics #first kiss #geraskier first kiss #this was a fun prompt!#bounceacoinoffyouranons #prompt fill

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jaskiersvalley · 3 years

Note

I loved your fic about witchers being afraid of moths so much. I suffer mottophobia as well and the thought that witchers feel the same is nice. So thank you!!!

Nonnie, I'm so pleased you liked that story! Phobias of any kind can be so stressful, I hope moths don't bother you all that often. While I don't have another phobia story for you, I have something a little different that I hope you enjoy.

CW: Panic attacks

It had taken Aiden several years before he broached the idea of wintering together. He knew Lambert went to Kaer Morhen each season and didn't want to be rude by inviting himself to the Wolves' den. But he also didn't want to make Lambert have to choose between seeing his family for the season and accompanying Aiden to the Caravan. Really, he need not have feared because as soon as he brought up the topic of winter, Lambert was jumping at the chance.

"Want to go to the Caravan?"

Just like that, they spent three years wintering with Cats. Lambert fit right in, helping with life on the road without a hitch, messing around, teaching tricks and learning new ones in equal measure. He cooked, did repairs and was as accepted into the Caravan as a stranger could be. It made Aiden wonder whether he missed the pack feel of his own family of Wolves.

"This year-" he said with some hesitance late one summer, "-why don't we go north? Kaer Morhen has probably missed its youngest Wolf."

If Lambert's expression was anything to go by, he didn't agree. "Does the Caravan not want me this year?"

"What?" Aiden scoffed at the notion. "No! I thought you knew they all dote on you. I just thought you might want to spend a season with your family. You met mine..." Not that he'd ever say it out loud but Aiden wanted to meet Lambert's family too, he didn't want to be a shameful secret.

The terse "fine" sounded anything but fine. However, Lambert refused to discuss it any further and, come winter, he led them north. By the time they got to the bottom of the mountain Lambert was tense, quiet and anything he said was cutting. It wasn't the Lambert Aiden knew at all. But he reasoned that maybe Lambert was nervous about bringing a Cat home. The higher up they got, the faster Lambert's heart beat. Perhaps it was the excitement of coming home after so long, at least that was what Aiden told himself. He figured once they were done with the dangerous path up to Kaer Morhen then Lambert would relax. He was wrong.

They made it into the warmth of the halls and what followed was the most uncomfortable introduction Aiden had ever endured. Lambert stopped, arms crossed over his chest as he regarded the other three.

"This is Aiden. You break him, I break your necks." With that, Lambert stomped out, bristling and grumbling under his breath. Hastily, Aiden followed after a quick wave that the three Witchers looking suitably non-plussed by it all.

What was strange was that Lambert didn't settle. He was a fountain of bitter remarks, sarcastic quips and brash aggression. Aiden couldn't make heads or tails of it. The others didn't react, didn't seem like they even wanted to try and calm the situation. In the end Aiden couldn't stand by anymore and cornered Eskel, demanding answers.

"What do you mean?" The thing was, Eskel genuinely seemed confused. "That's just Lambert for you. You've known him for years now, surely you're used to it."

But Aiden wasn't. He hadn't seen Lambert like that before, so on edge. "No," he replied in the end. "This isn't how I know him. His heart rate's high, he's callous, spikey, lashing out. That's not the Lambert I know."

The look Eskel gave him was one of strange reproach. "The mutagens didn't fully take with him, his heart's always been faster than a normal Witcher's. As for the rest, I don't know what swamp water you drink to block it out but that's Lambert in a nutshell."

It wasn't. Aiden knew Lambert, spent years listening to his steady heartbeat, relishing when they fell in sync most nights. He'd seen the kindness and patience Lambert had out on the Path and at the Caravan. There was no mocking for getting footwork wrong, no calling the other person an idiot with a scoff. Nor had Aiden ever seen Lambert pace before, a restless tracing of a path between window and door of the bedroom. The growled "don't touch me" sounded full of threat, so much like a dog trying to prove he could really hurt an opponent in an effort to stave off an actual fight. Seeing Lambert like that hurt and Aiden didn't know what had provoked the change.

Things got worse when they were making repairs to Kaer Morhen, trying to undo all the damage the sacking had done. With the parts they inhabited secure and warm, Vesemir directed their work to the dungeons, salvaging what they could. Smoke stained books and scrolls along with bottles that contained the dregs of potions were pulled from partially collapsed rooms. Lambert was exceptionally acerbic, sniping at everyone including Aiden. It was all ignored until he snapped at Vesemir, "so what's the plan here, old man? Going to open up the torture chambers again to get your rocks off?"

"Another word from you and you'll be running the Killer twice before each meal," Vesemir growled, grabbing another thick book covered in ash and rock debris.

Throwing his hands up, Lambert stormed off, muttering about how he'd rather run the Killer night and day than suffer this idiocy. Nobody seemed to care that his breath had hitched and heartrate was rocketing higher. Well, Aiden cared. Seeing as none of the others looked interested in following Lambert, he took it upon himself.

"Best to leave him," Eskel called after him. "He'll probably destroy a few training dummies in a fit of rage and then calm. Ignoring him leads to the fewest injuries for all."

Not that Aiden cared. He followed the sour scent that Lambert had been coated in all winter, maybe even before that. True to Eskel's prediction, he was in the training yard but he wasn't decimating dummies. Instead, Lambert was staring blankly off into the distance, muscles locked into a tense hunch.

"Lamb?"

His name seemed to jerk Lambert out of whatever thoughts he'd gotten lost in. Whirling, he rounded on Aiden with a snarl. Not rising to it, Aiden held a arm open and stepped closer, inviting Lambert into a cuddle. His heart broke a little when Lambert reared away, spitting with rage. "Don't touch me!"

Truthfully, Aiden didn't have to, he could see the solid lines of muscles, coiled tight. Everything about Lambert screamed to be left alone but he couldn't, not when there was something so underlyingly wrong. If Aiden didn't know any better, he'd have said that anyone else behaving like Lambert was having a silent panic attack. Maybe Aiden didn't know any better. He'd rarely heard Lambert speak of Kaer Morhen or the others, and when it did it wasn't with fondness. Around them was destruction, every stone imbued with memories of a hard life. Aiden knew that the instructors were harsh, often punishing Lambert with a cane or deprivation as he grew up. Vesemir had been one of those men and Lambert had to face his tormentor on a daily basis. They'd been digging up the dungeon where the trials had been administered, pulling what they could on how to recreate the them. Each crumbling wall was another layer of memories of the sacking, of a life Lambert hated but had no idea how to leave behind. When the misery was the only thing he knew, the only steady thing in his life, it was easier to cling to it rather than embrace the terror of the unknow.

Keeping his distance, Aiden nodded. "It's okay." It wasn't but he had no idea what else to say. They were going to have to get through winter, it was too late to head down the mountain. But as soon as it was safe, Aiden was whisking Lambert away from it. He wasn't letting him face the traumas of his past again and again. It wasn't healthy to rip open those wounds, to come face to face with living memories each time he saw Vesemir and Kaer Morhen.

When Aiden stepped in again, Lambert didn't scuttle away. Instead, he was stiff as a board in Aiden's arms, quivering with pent up emotions. Slowly, Aiden rubbed his back, tried to urge him to relax into his hold. Ever so gradually Lambert did, letting Aiden take a fair chunk of his weight as the shaking got more pronounced. Without a word, Aiden held him, gave him the quiet and the space to finally fall apart. It made him wonder whether, in years gone by, Lambert would allow himself to break apart each night in the privacy of his room. Now, with Aiden there, had he been trying to hold it all together, no space safe enough to let his emotions out? Shuddering at the thought, Aiden held Lambert tighter. Come next year, they were going to spend winter with the Caravan again. Never again was Lambert going to have to face the haunting wraiths of his past. Not if Aiden could help it.

#lambden #lambert/aiden #lambert #aiden #the witcher #cw: panic attacks #tldr: lambert has silent panic attacks at kaer morhen

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fireemblems24 · 3 years

Text

Dimitri's Supports

I have waited FOREVER for this. Let's go. And I decided to put my patience to the test, saving Dedue for last.

Since it's Dimitri and I love him, and like Dedue who I also love, he's the only one unlocking all his A-Supports, I'm going to blog all my reactions to them like I did with Dedue. Part of me wishes I thought of this for the other characters, but honestly it would've taken forever lol. Plus Dimitri and Dedue get special treatment because I said so.

Raphael

Starting off with something light hearted, I hope. I do wonder if I'm going to regret not saving this one for the inevitably heavy-handed stuff coming later.

I'm seriously betting this is a support you're supposed to get in part 1 lol. Dimitri sounds young (or maybe I'm just haven't heard non-growl part 2 Dimitri enough yet?)

Dimitri's training made Raphael think he was dying lol. Dimitri's strength is really meme tier.

I need fanart of Dimitri and Chrom co-miserating their mishandled strength breaking something. And Lucina.

Lamo, Raphael has never felt a cramp before. Lucky bastard.

Raphael is a sweetie, going to apologize to his muscles. I really wish they gave him something else to talk about other than muscles and food. Not everyone needs Dimitri tier development, but I think I'd like Raphael a lot more if he just got a smidge more depth.

Got to say, it's a bit jarring to go from "moments away from a suicide charge in the rain" to "lol, Raphael, it's muscle pain." As glad as I am that I got this support, I do think some should've been locked to part 1.

And this isn't just for Dimitri's development. I also saw Marianne and Raphael's B before this support and she reverted back to her part 1 self too.

Catherine

Maybe it's just me, but he does sound a bit older.

OMG - Dimitri's back. 😭😭😭

Sorry, it didn't really hit in that first one since that seemed like a part 1 support.

Oh, cool! I was wondering if anyone would bring up Catherine returning to Faerghus. My bets is she's too loyal to Rhea. (I guessed right)

Catherine be simpin. That's ok, I get it.

So it's not because Catherine dislikes Dimitri, or that she's absolutely needed to rule House Charon, so I think Dimitri just likes her. She's cool though. I get it.

Lamo, she told him he'd better get his sleep like he's a kid.

Curious how the A+ support will play out.

Mercedes

Team Mom's support!

Oh, no, this one's taking a serious turn isn't it? But their initial supports were so light and cute.

Mercedes just told Dimitri that he's kind to a fault. Somehow I know he's going to deny that.

Annnnnd I'm right 😭😭😭He's still calling himself a killer and disgusting monster 😭😭😭

OK - so THIS seems perfectly in tone with his recent character development. But it's so sad hearing him still talk about himself that way.

Mercedes is such a therapist. I can't. She's too pure. But savage. I saw that Lorenz support.

"I am scared . . . so scared that I will forget their faces." 😭😭😭😭😭😭 Dimitri why????

Mercedes telling Dimitri to live in the present. Her supports are always so good. I legit think she's easily a top 10 favorite in this game.

Wow, Dimitri saying if someone told him that 5 years ago, he'd be different. DID NO ONE EVER GIVE HIM ANY HELP AT ALL???

I love how she's talking to him as a classmate, and equal, and not talking up to him. He's always wanted that.

Dimitri's never given his own dreams any thought 😭😭😭He really was just 100% living for other people most of the time. 😭😭😭

Awww MERCEDES, I can't. She says she just wants to keep being his friend. This is so damn sweet. And heavy. But still sweet.

It just hits super hard knowing how badly Dimitri just wanted friends in part 1. And looking back, Mercedes and Sylvain were really the only two who were pretty casual with him.

Aww, yeah, Mercedes not putting up with the bullshit, Dimitri. Telling him to quit the self-deprecation! God, I love her.

Oh, God, they both said the old FE code for "we're married" i.e. I want to "stay by your side."

Ok, @garlandgerard, I totally get why you ship this. Mercedes loves to nurture people, and Dimitri's emotionally needy, so they match pretty well. She also didn't put up with the constant self-put-downs, but stayed gentle about it. And they talked like equals too, like friends, which is what Dimitri always wanted. It's all very sweet.

Annette

Yeah, see, this one starts off with "your highness," but Mercedes it was just Dimitri. No hate for Annette. She's my girl.

These two always give me sibling vibes.

Haha, Annette "I thought I already knew you, but I'm not sure I really do." Hmmmm wonder what Dimitri did that made her think that maybe there's parts of him she didn't know. No. idea.

Hey, Annette, no one blames you for not knowing what to say to Dimitri when they reunited lol.

Annette too pure too, wanting to cheer Dimitri up with his favorite food.

Her not knowing what he likes to eat is 100% that moment when you realize you don't know someone's favorite color.

HOW can Dimitri have no strong feelings about food. I'm having pizza right now. Let me tell you, I have strong feelings about some food.

I love how easily Dimitri deflected from talking about himself lol.

Awwww, Annette wants to live with her family again. I'll make that happen, Annette. Don't worry.

Haha, they're conspiring together behind Gilbert's back.

They still have an A+ support, which is weird, because that seemed pretty well ended? Like I see why Catherine's needed more, but not this one. Still, not going to say no. I like their dynamic.

Ingrid

OCF they're training. God I love all the Faerghus childhood group though.

Oh, fuck, here comes Glenn again. My heart's not ready for this with Rodrigue dead. Poor Felix.

Ingrid being Dimitri's knight 😊😊😊 as it should be.

Haha, Dimitri asks her for an interpretation. Just make her your knight.

Glad he hasn't started saying "I'm not worthy!" Because right now it's about Ingrid's feelings.

Wow, there, Ingrid. "However you please, Your Highness." That . . . that sounds like an invitation. To "staying by your side."

Dimitri laughed. 😊😊😊

Oh, God, this is so cute. His pause asking her to support and defend him as his knight. 😊😊😊 OMG. I'm not sure that's all she had in mind though, good Sir, have you LOOKED in the mirror?

Seriously though, Ingrid's just surrounded by studs, isn't she?

Oh, God, I'm right. She didn't just mean knight. But Dimitri's too dense in that area to notice. She crushing hard. Girl, I get you.

She blushing, saying "for the Kingdom," naw, she just like him. Me too, Ingrid. Me too.

Dimitri always makes people promise not to die on him. It's so sad considering . . .

Flayn

With Flayn it's always a toss up. Sometimes things are super light hearted, and other times it's way heavy.

On a random note, does no one wonder why Flayn hasn't aged a day in 5 years?

Flayn having nightmares. Not allowed. I bet it's fucking Jeritza's fault. I'm glad you get to rip him a new one so many times in this game.

Why is Flayn apologizing?? She's never done a thing wrong in her life.

Right, Flayn's other support with Dimitri was pretty heavy. And it started so funny with him stomaching her food.

Oh, good grief, what's he apologizing for? Ok - so Dimitri did do some things wrong. But not to Flayn.

He lied. Let me guess. Her food actually sucks.

Aw, got it. He went right to the meal. Is he really going to come out and say, well it actually sucked 😂

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK

WHAT ABOUT ALL THOSE MEALS???? AND THE TEA an embarrassing amount of tea.

Wait. He can't taste ANYTHING??? Like. How? Did he hide that????

Ok - I need to look at his team and dining dialogue.

OMG. He really never says a word about how anything tastes? He always just talks about smells????

OMG. How did I NOT NOTICE. I've taken Dimitri to dinner a million times. And tea timed him too many times to admit too.

AND I NEVER NOTICED HE NEVER ONCE SAID HOW ANYTHING TASTED. HOW.

OMG that support with Annette hits different now 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

OMG and Dedue's support with Flayn hits different now. Since he wanted to badly to find food Dimitri loves 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Does Dedue know? Is that why he's so dedicated to cooking??

Can I headcannon that?

OMG, I feel so awful about that jab about pizza. Dimitri CAN'T TASTE pizza or anything 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Please someone tell me there isn't any more "this awful thing also happened to Dimitri and he's failed to tell you" like learning he almost fucking died at Duscur. And now this. Dimitri needs to learn how to fucking complain.

The writers are so fucking mean to Dimitri. OMG. OMG, how am I supposed to take him to dinner and tea now, knowing this?

Why does everything hit so differently now? And so many Blue Lions supports are about food - but Dimitri can't relate

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

This game needs to stop bullying Dimitri.

But like, God, can you imagine? Not tasting anything? I'd starve. I'd actually starve. I never really get hungry. I really would starve.

On the flip side, he's good for Flayn then, since someone can eat her cooking I guess.

"I was just saying what I thought you would want to hear . . ." Dimitri - a summary.

Naw, that's a kind lie. That kind of lie doesn't really hurt anyone.

Oh - dear God. Flayn. Stop. No sampling pungent food.

Oh, she blushing. Dimitri got her blushing

Please tell me in their paired ending Dimitri gets his taste back.

Oh, there's an A+, does he taste something. Please tell me he tastes something.

This support though. It wasn't really one on my radar but

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Gilbert

Oh, man, this one right after Flayn's. God, I'm going to need the Alois one after this. Gilbert and Dimitri are two of the most somber characters in the franchise.

And I haven't forgotten that heartbreaking B support.

Haha Lambert sucked at lying too. Dimitri too pure. Weirdly, despite everything, it's still pretty true.

Oh, shit, oh shit, we're back to Dimitri's demand that Gilbert kill him. I'm betting you usually get that in part 2.

God, imagine seeing Dimitri recover only to see him beg for death again 😭😭😭😭😭😭

I need alcohol.

I need the Alois support.

OMG, shit, Dimitri. No. Don't. Stop.

Like, I know Gilbert won't really kill him, but damn. This support is heavy.

No, Dimitri, no Gilbert is not cruel for not killing you. God.

Oh, not sure about this. I get what Gilbert's going at here, but telling Dimitri that he's not allowed to die because he's got a duty is . . . I think Rodrigue's and Mercedes' live for what you want/the present is a LOT healthier.

At the same time, this is a pretty effective way to make sure Dimitri won't go and try this again, because he really takes duty seriously.

Dimitri doesn't wish to die? 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Oh, thank God.

"Many times I have felt that I cannot afford to die . . . But this was the first time I truly feared the prospect." 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

"Is it really right for me to live?" Oh, dear God. I'm so soft for Dimitri. I can't.

Gilbert answered that one right. 100%.

Damn, these supports.

Alois

OK. I need this one. I really need this one.

I really hope Alois' inspiration is bad puns. I need bad puns right now.

Pretty sure this is a part 1 support though. I love how Alois, not Dimitri, is leading this. And that the person the Kingdom NEEDS is running around and getting attacked by monsters lol

Ok, bad puns. Bring them.

There we go. Thank you, thank you, Alois.

OMG no one's laughing 😂😂😂

Dimitri's laughing 😭😭😭😭😭😭

That's it. This is always getting saved for part 2. I need to hear part 2 Dimitri laugh.

I'm also so glad someone finds Alois funny. Dimitri and Petra need to start a club.

OMG I love the two other confused soldiers. I needed this 😂😂😂

Marianne

These two were so sweet in their C and B supports.

I swear I'm going to end up shipping Dimitri with everyone. Except maybe Annette, no hate, they just seem so much like brother and sister to me.

And Felix x Annette 100%

Survivor's Guilt - the pairing. Both wondering why they survived 😭😭😭

"There are so many others who are much more deserving of life . . ." - who said it? Marianne or Dimitri?

These two just understand how each other feels so well. It hits so different compared to Marianne's other romantic possible supports where they just try to make her smile.

Instead these two take comfort in finding someone who understands how they feel so well and feel relieved they can share that with someone.

Haha - "I must go on living. I cannot give in to death so readily." This coming right after his support with Gilbert. Good job, Gilbert.

They've both had it so rough 😭😭😭😭😭😭

"There is no need to force yourself to smile as your soul bleeds." Dimitri always gives such good advice that he never follows.

Aww, now at least it's getting cute instead of just heavy. Marianne laughed too 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Yesss, Girl, preach. I got a little sick of her other supports all being "cheer up!" Like I know it's all in good faith, but I'm so glad this chain exists. It just hits different.

Dimitri doesn't think he's strong enough to live his life. 😭😭😭 this game. I swear.

ohhhh - ohhh, Dimitri blushing now. And all she needed to say was they've been brought closer together. Congrats Marianne!

OHHHH tables have been turned. Now someone's making Dimitri promise he needs to live!

"I don't know what I'd do with myself if we lost you . . ."

"I promise to the goddess of Fodlan that I will never give you cause for despair."

OMG these two are being so sweet, I can't. 😭😭😭😊😊😊

Felix

Oh, boy, here we go. This should be . . . interesting.

Oh, we're starting off good I see. Felix telling Dimitri he needs to answer quickly or get cut in half 😔Felix. No.

Dimitri sounds so somber 😭

Dimitri admitting both are him - the vengeful "boar" and the friendly good person. And this is why I love him.

Dimitri feels the need to shoulder all the regret the dead feel, please don't. They wouldn't want that 😭😭😭😭😭

"The dead won't acknowledge your loyalty, they don't care." - Felix not wrong there.

I partly agree with the idea Dimitri is "serving his own ego" by claiming he's acting for the dead. I think it's a bit more complicated than that, but I think that's part of it.

Felix saying some good stuff here about the dead being dead and the living being living.

"If you keep stringing gravestones around your neck, you'll snap." - Felix, I don't know if you noticed but . . . uh . . . he sort of did.

Felix telling Dimitri to become a grave keeper is a bit funny. Not going to lie.

"I'm not immune to emotion you know." - just tsunderes things

Aw, Felix is upset his father died 😭😭 after all that shit-talking about Rodrigue 😭😭

Wish Felix didn't cut Dimitri off when he said "more than anyone you-" (care about other people, unless he joins CF and just kills everyone)

Oh, God, Felix is such a tsundere. "I couldn't stand the pathetic look on your face. That's all." Sure, Felix.

Kinda wish these two had an A+ though. Seems like there's more to do than the A+ with Annette and Flayn.

Really curious to see what their paired ending is like after that. Seems they're still learning to learn about each other. Well, Felix is. Dimitri didn't seem too upset lol.

Dedue

Ok guys. Here we go. I can't believe I managed to wait for this for last. Everyone hyped this one, so let's hope.

Really? We open with Dimitri having scars on his back? 😭

From 9 years ago? So scars from Duscur then?

Images of shirtless Dimitri now. though Not bad images.

He got scars protecting Dedue?

"It makes me think that is was worthwhile that someone like me survived." 😭😭😭 he's talking about protecting Dedue? 😭😭😭

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

"But I saved someone - saved you. That and that alone has been my crutch." 😭😭😭😭😭

I always knew these two were co-dependent.

Dimitri really out here saying that saving Dedue helped him "justify" surviving. 😭😭😭😊😊😊

OMG THAT'S THEIR STORY

OMG, poor Dedue. And Dimitri 😭😭😭did he literally "take a bullet" to save Dedue 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 and still has scars? No wonder Dedue's so loyal. Some kid he didn't know did that. That's one hell of an introduction.

And picturing little Dedue just resigned and angry and waiting to die and just 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Oh, Dedue, you've repaid that debt ten-fold I'm sure.

Ahaha, Dimitri's doing the "you'd better accept your worth!" discussion this time lol.

Dear God these two. Now Dimitri's bringing up that Dedue busted him out of the jail.

I swear, these two have more of a plot off screen than some routes do on screen.

And now picturing Dimitri resigned and just ready to die. And then Dedue busts in. 😭😭😭

"That was nothing more than my duty as your vassal." Stop that Dedue. Dimitri doesn't want you to be his vassal. He wants more.

Holy shit.

"You are irreplaceable. Cherished." 😭😭😭😊😊😊😭😭😭😊😊😊😭😭😭😊😊😊😭😭😭😊😊😊

Not to be that person - but I tell all my "friends" that.

Yes, Dedue, stop saying insisting you're just a "vassal" - that's a worse joke than Alois' puns from earlier.

"Please . . . do not look at me that way." What way, like you're about to make Dimitri cry, or like . . .

"You promised me you would build a Kingdom that is proud to boast of Duscur blood." - shit, man, these two. I just . . .

OMG so much emotion from Dedue. The only time I ever heard that before was in VW when he learned Dimitri died. But let's not remember that right now 😭😭😭😭😭😭

Oh shit. He called him "Dimitri." 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊

And it made him blush.

OMG.

Guys, these two.

Aww, Dimitri looks so surprised. 😊😊😊😊😊😊

Oh, these two are so soft for each other. I can't. I just can't.

"To be your friend . . . is what I have always wanted." You're going to get it.

Man, I feel almost guilty S-Supporting Dimitri. He needs to pair up with Dedue pronto.

Dimitri sounds chocked up. OMG.

"So please call upon me when you walk alone at night." Ok. Dedue. Ok. Yes. Guys. This is all very straight.

I'm not saying it's - you know - cannon, but there's some big feels here.

Oh, Dimitri, stop it. You like Dedue's overprotectiveness. Don't lie.

Man, you guys were so right. Dimitri really just came out and said Dedue was "cherished" and "irreplaceable." Like, I'm not making this stuff up. And Dedue blushing hardcore just saying Dimitri's name.

They're both just so soft. I can't. I literally cannot. This support was gold. It was worth all they hype.

And learning more about how they meant. Dimitri really taking a bullet for Dedue there. I just . . .

I just want all the happiness for both of them. They're really something special towards each other. Like I legitimately think this is one of the most two-way loyal relationships in the whole franchise, and definitely the tightest bond in this game.

Like in past games you had Seth for Ephraim and Erikia and Soren for Ike and it's not like Ike, Ephraim and Erikia and etc don't care, but it wasn't the same level, you know? But this is such a two way street.

And I'm so weak for bodyguard with a crush. Like Seth/Eirika? Yes. Geoffrey/Elincia? 100%. Riza/Roy (Fullmetal Alchemist) there again. I'm sure there's more, but those are my top ones. Even Merlin/Arthur sort of counts even if Arthur doesn't know Merlin's his bodyguard lol.

I need to read fanfic for these two. I really don't want to spoil anything, but I'm dying. They're both just so sweet, and I just really love their dynamic. I really want to do a write up on it once I get to the end of the game.

#fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #dimitri fire emblem #fe3h #fe16

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queenxxxsupreme · 4 years

Text

The Eldest Son

A/N: I honestly couldn’t tell you where this came from but..... I think I like it.....???? As usual I’m really shitty with titles so just ignore it

Warnings: someone is outted in this, mentions of slurs being used but not actually mentioning what slurs, mentions of a fight,

Word Count: 4.1k

Summary: Bram struggles to figure out how to tell you and Geralt his sexuality.

***

You lifted your head from where you were sewing a rip in one of your skirts. There was movement coming from down the hall from Bram’s room. You drew your brows together, knowing very well your son had gone out with friends for the evening.

The door to Lana’s room opened and you saw her slip into Bram’s room.

Curious and a little concerned, you placed the skirt on the kitchen table and went to see what was going on.

You knocked on Bram’s door, hearing muffled whispers from the other side.

“Lana? What are you doing in your brother’s room?” You tried to open the door, only to find that something was barricading it.

“I’m-I’ve got something, mom. Don’t worry about it!” She spoke, sounding a little frantic.

“Lana, this door should not be blocked.” You put your hands on your hips, frustrated and even more concerned now. Who was in there with her? Why was she in her brother’s room while he was gone? Why was the door blocked to keep anyone from entering?

There was more whispering, this time you could hear who it was. Lana was clearly one of them, and the other sounded like your son.

“Just tell her, Bram.”

“Lana, I’m gonna fucking-,”

“She’ll understand! I’m sure she will! And maybe she can talk to dad.”

There was silence. You waited, your patience wearing thin.

Something behind the door moved and it opened, but only enough to reveal Lana.

“Don’t be mad, mom.” She murmured quietly, brows drawn together.

“I’m not mad, Lana. I don’t like that the door was blocked.” You tried to peek into the room but Lana wouldn’t let you, closing the door a little more. You raised your brows at her and opened your mouth to speak when Bram’s voice came from within his room.

“Lana, move.” His voice sounded off, like he was scared.

Lana stepped out of the way and without hesitation, you moved into the bedroom to check on your eldest.

He stood at the foot of his bed, holding his arm. His eyes were cast to the ground.

With a wave of your hand, the fireplace in his room was lit. Though it wasn’t the best lighting, you could see dark bruising on the left side of his face and what appeared to be dried blood below his nose and spread across his cheek.

“Close the window behind you, Bram.” You told him softly. “Lana, give me a moment with your brother, please.”

She nodded her head and left, closing the door behind herself.

“Why didn’t you come in through the front door?” You shifted from one foot to the other, unsure of what to make of the situation.

“Didn’t want to bother you.” He muttered.

“Sit down, love.” You gestured to his bed. “I’ll be right back. Need to clean your face up.”

You left the room to retrieve a bowl of warm water and a washcloth. When you returned, he was sitting on the edge of his bed, shoulders slumped.

“Never think that you are a bother to me, Bram.” You sat the bowl down on the table by his bed and dipped the washcloth into the water, then you wrung it out. You sat down on the bed next to Bram. “No matter the time of day or night, you’re never a bother to me.”

“Just thought you’d be sleeping.” He didn’t turn his head to you.

Your eyes flickered down to his hands, taking note of his busted knuckles.

“I can’t sleep when your father is gone.” You spoke gently, reaching over for his hand. Bram let you take his hand and carefully, you began to clean the blood from the wounds. “It’s an old habit from before he left the Path.”

Even though you knew your husband was just out with his brothers, you couldn’t seem to silence the voice in the back of your head that screamed he was still in danger.

“Who did you get into a fight with, Bram?”

“It’s not a big deal, mom.”

“Something is bothering you." You stopped wiping the blood from his hand and instead looked up at him. “Bram, look at me when I’m talking to you.”

He closed his eyes, shaking his head firmly. A tear slipped down his cheek.

You put the washcloth over the side of the bowl and put your hand on his back.

“Bram-,”

“I just- I fucking want to be left alone!” He shouted, standing up suddenly.

You were taken back. He’d never once cursed at you, nor did he direct his anger at you. He was your sweet boy, your first born. You two were always so close.

You opened your mouth to speak, to maybe reprimand him for cursing at you and raising his voice. But something in your gut twisted up. There was something going on that he wasn’t telling you, something that was hurting him. You couldn’t bring yourself to scold him then and there.

You nodded your head and left the room, pulling the door shut behind yourself. You stood there for a minute, unsure of what to do. Your heart was racing furiously in your chest and the urge to vomit was rising in your stomach.

“Mom?”

You turned your head to see Lana standing in the edge of her room.

“He isn’t angry at you.” She whispered, shaking her head softly.

“Who did he get into a fight with?”

Lana said nothing, eyes flickering down to the floor.

“Is he in trouble or something, Lana?” You moved away from the door, stepping towards your youngest.

“No, mom. No.” She shook her head. “It’s just…. I can’t tell you. It’s for him to tell you.”

You admired her loyalty to her brother and trusted her judgement. If Bram was in danger and if his life was at risk, she would tell you.

“Come give me a hug.”

She closed the space between you quickly, nearly plowing you over when she collided into you. She wrapped her arms tightly around you and squeezed.

“Love you, mom.”

“I love you, Lana.” You kissed the side of her head. You told her good night and then went back to the kitchen to finish patching up the skirt.

***

About thirty minutes later, the door to Bram’s room opened. You had finished with the skirt and now sat by the fireplace reading.

You looked up from the book to see your son shuffle in to the living room. His eyes found you and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

“I-I’m sorry, mom, for…. for yelling at you.”

“It’s okay, Bram.” You closed the book. “I’m your mother, Bram, and if there’s any sort of trouble you’ve gotten yourself into, or-or something else…. You need to tell me.”

“I’m not in trouble with anyone.” He shook his head. His eyes flickered over to the door. “When do you think dad will be home?”

“It’s just a little past midnight.” You thought out loud. “And Lambert said they weren’t coming back until sunrise. I’d say a few hours.”

Bram nodded, still thinking as he rocked back and forth on his heels.

“Can I talk to you about something? I-I just…. I don’t want dad to-to know. At least not yet. He’ll be angry.”

You crinkled your brows together, confused, but nonetheless, you nodded.

Bram moved to sit on the floor in front of the fire place, focusing on the flames inside the hearth. He picked at his nails.

“I got into it with Andrei.”

“Andrei? What happened, love? I thought you two were friends.” You tilted your head to the side.

Bram shrugged his shoulders, taking a moment to clear his throat.

“He was, um, was making fun of Maverick.”

Maverick was another one of Bram’s friends.

“Maverick…. Mom, Maverick doesn’t like girls.” Bram whispered, shaking his head softly. His eyes watched the fire. You could see the tears in his gaze, see the pain in his eyes. “He’s-He’s…. And Andrei was just…. He was being such a fucking asshole.” Bram covered his face with his hands.

You moved out of your chair and got down on your knees beside your son. You placed your hand on his back to comfort him.

“Shhh, love. All will be okay.” You murmured. “I’m so sorry Maverick had to go through that. He’s a sweet boy. I’m glad you were there to stick up for him. But there’s no reason to get so upset over it, Bram.”

“He-He saw Maverick with someone. He’s-Mom, he’s going to tell everyone. The entire village is going to know and-and Maverick’s family is going to kick him out! Or worse! Mom, they could….” He trailed off.

“Then he can come and stay here.” You said. “If you’d like him to, that is.”

Bram’s breath caught in his throat and his hands fell from his face. He looked at you, brows furrowed.

“If-If I want…. If I want him to?”

“He’s your friend, and you are worried about him.” You explained. “If you’d like to offer him a place to stay, he can stay here. We have the extra space and you know we’d never let harm befall him. Neither myself or your father would allow it. He’d be treated just as one of our own.”

Bram lost his voice as he stared at you for a few heartbeats. The tears that trailed down his cheeks broke your heart. You wanted nothing more than to reach out and wipe them away, to comfort him and tell him that his friend was going to be okay.

“I-I-I was the one…. Mom, I was the one Andrei saw him with.” He whispered.

You didn’t hesitate to embrace him, to wrap your arms tightly around him and pull him into your chest. You cradled the back of his head, holding him just as you did when he was a toddler and suffered from nightmares.

“I love you, Bram.” You told him, giving him a tight squeeze. “I love you, and nothing in the world could change that.”

Now you understood. The anger. The sneaking into the house. The concern for Geralt finding out.

His shoulders shook with his cries and he melted into your touch, tucking his nose into your neck.

You comforted him until he stopped crying, until he pulled away and wiped his cheeks.

“Who else knows?” You asked, reaching out to brush a few pieces of his hair back out of his eyes. Then you took his hand.

“Just Lana.” He said. “And…. And Uncle Jaskier.”

You nodded your head gently.

“How…. How do you think dad will react?” Bram hesitantly met your gaze, sniffling and wiping his nose on his sleeve. “I-I don’t-I don’t want him to be angry with me, mom.”

“He’s your father, Bram. He’d never be angry at you for something like this.” You carefully squeezed his hand, not wanting to hurt him.

“What-What if Andrei tells everyone? That’s-That’s just going to be another thing everyone gives him shit for.”

“You let your father handle that.” You leaned forward to kiss his cheek. “I can promise you he’ll fight anyone who says anything crass about you. You’re his son, his first born. He loves you, and nothing would ever change that.”

“He’ll be so disappointed in me.” Bram murmured quietly. “I’ll bring you all dishonor.”

“I promise you that there is nothing about you that could make him disappointed in you.” You hooked two fingers beneath his chin and tilted his head up so he would look at you. “As long as you are happy and as long as you are healthy, that’s all that matters.”

Bram gave you a little smile, one that made you smile.

“It’s late. You should get some sleep.”

He nodded and stood to his feet. You did the same and without any warning, he embraced you.

“Thank you, mom.”

You squeezed him tight, almost afraid to let him go.

“I’m your mother, Bram. If I turned you away for who you are, then I wouldn’t be doing my job.”

***

There was a hand on your knee that woke you up. You jolted, eyes immediately finding Geralt. He was knelt down in front of your chair, his hands sliding alongside the outsides of your thighs.

You smiled at him at first, but then you noticed the furrow between his brows and the worry in his golden eyes.

“What’s the matter?”

“You haven’t fallen asleep here since Lana came down with that cough three winters ago. Is something wrong?”

“Just…. Just wanted to wait for you.” You told him, eyes flickering over his face.

In the years you’d known him, he’d never truly shown his age. Thanks to the trials, he aged slower than humans. But in the last few years, wrinkles around his eyes had become more prominent and when he’d let his beard grow out, it was more gray than white.

Right now was one of those times that he was letting it grow out.

You smiled softly, reaching out to brush your fingers across the scratchy surface.

He placed his large hand on the back of yours, turning his head to kiss your palm.

“How was your night out?”

Something that sounded like a grunt and a growl rumbled in his chest. He pulled away from you and stood up, shaking his head.

“What happened?”

“Just…. just fucking tired of this town.”

“Did something happen?”

He shook his head again. He moved to go down the hallway, heading to be no doubt.

You followed him.

“Geralt?”

“It’s nothing you need to worry about, dove.”

“But it is if it ruined your night with your brothers.” You sat down on the edge of the bed and watched him undress.

He stayed silent.

“Was someone taunting you?”

“No.”

“Did Lambert start a fight?”

“No, dove.” He let out a heavy breath, forgetting about a shirt. He sat down on the bed just in front of you, rubbing his eyes. “The blacksmith’s son, that friend of Bram’s…. What was his name?”

You paused for a second.

“Jackob’s son? His name is Andrei.” You messed with the hem of your shirt.

Geralt nodded his head.

“The boy came running into the tavern, squawking and squealing with blood running down his nose. I wasn’t concerned until I heard him mention Bram.”

You locked your jaw, fearing what you were about to hear. You knew this wasn’t what Bram wanted. He deserved to be able to tell his father himself. He deserved to have control over this.

Geralt’s brows were drawn together as he looked down at the fire in the hearth.

“He called Bram slurs and claimed to have seen him with another boy. Eskel had to pull me out of the tavern. I was ready to hurt the boy for saying such things about him- about Bram.”

Your stomach twisted and your throat itches. You looked down at where your fingers messed with the hem of your shirt.

“Would it…. Would it be all that terrible though? If he was?” You whispered, losing your voice. You weren’t expecting this reaction from your husband and now you were second guessing everything you’d ever thought about him. “If-If Bram had been with another boy?”

Geralt looked at you, concerned.

“That isn’t what I was meaning, Y/N. I was furious that someone would call Bram- or anyone for that matter -such names just for who they’re with and for who they court.”

You paused for a moment, letting his words sink in.

“Oh.”

Geralt was quiet, watching you carefully.

“You know, don't you?” His voice was soft.

You knew very well he could hear your heart racing.

The White Wolf nodded his head softly, looking down at your hand. You were nervous. He reached over to take your hand and bring it to his lips.

“Six years ago, when he was around ten.... I was gathering up his and Lana’s dirty clothes to be washed. Out of habit, I check their pockets. Remember when Bram would stuff cookies in his pockets and then forget about them?”

You laughed softly, nodding your head. He smiled too at the memory.

“I found a folded up piece of parchment in his pocket. It was a little note he'd passed back and forth with another boy at school. It was just harmless little stuff they wrote to each other.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” You furrowed your brows.

“Because he would come to us whenever he was ready.”

You nodded.

“I-I don't want him to think that I told you.” You moved to sit next to your husband, leaning against his shoulder. “I want him to come to you.”

“I want him to as well.” Geralt kissed the top of your head. “How did he tell you?”

“He told me he’d gotten into a fight with Andrei because Andrei caught him with Maverick.”

“Maverick.” Geralt repeated the name thoughtfully.

“Mhm. Bram said he was worried about Andrei telling everyone in town and he was worried about everyone giving you trouble for it.”

“I'd like to see them try.” Geralt muttered under his breath. You rubbed his arm. “Was he…. Did he show any concern for my response?”

“He did.” You nodded, turning your head to kiss his bare shoulder. “But I assured him you'd love him no matter what.”

“Have I ever done anything to make him think otherwise?”

“Not that I'm aware of.” You traced a prominent vein along his forearm. “But perhaps in the morning, if he feels he's ready to talk to you, you can ask and clear things up. Let him know that you're supportive of him.”

Geralt nodded his head.

***

In the morning, the both of you were up before the sun rose. Geralt couldn’t sleep. He was too busy worrying over Bram. And you couldn’t rest knowing your husband was lying wide awake next to you.

You made breakfast, humming as you moved around the kitchen. Lana had gotten up a while ago and went to do her usual morning routine, which was to make sure the animals outside had fresh water and that they had enough straw to keep them warm.

“Is Bram awake?” You asked Geralt. He was sitting at the kitchen table, hands wrapped tightly around a mug of tea.

He nodded softly, brows knitted together in a permanent frown.

“Been awake for a couple of hours. He’s been pacing his room.”

You wiped your hands off on a rag and set it down on the counter.

You went to Bram’s room and knocked on the door.

“Bram? Are you awake, love?”

“You can open the door, mom.” He answered quietly.

You pushed the door open and peered inside.

Bram was just sitting down on the edge of his bed, broad shoulders slumped as he dropped his eyes to the floor.

“Are you feeling okay? You look a little unwell?” You moved towards him, placing the back of your hand against his forehead.

“Just didn’t sleep good.” He muttered. “Is…. Is dad here?”

“He is. He’s out in the kitchen.” You combed your fingers through his unruly locks for a moment, trying to tame his hair. “I understand why you’re still upset, Bram, but you shouldn’t let it be the reason you’re losing sleep.”

He said nothing to you.

“I love you, Julian Bram.” You leaned down to kiss his forehead. “You’ve got a loving and supportive family that will have your back no matter what path in life you chose, so long as you are safe and doing right by others. I need you to know this, dear son.”

“I do.” He whispered, shoulders trembling as he let out a breath. “I do, mom.”

“Good.” You smiled, pulling away from him. “Whenever you are ready, breakfast is waiting for you. Then I’m sure your sister would like some help mucking the stables afterwards.”

He groaned and rather dramatically threw himself back on to his bed.

You returned to the kitchen, a smile still playing on your lips. Geralt noticed this.

“How is he?” He asked, though the witcher had listened to every word of the conversation. It wasn’t that he was trying to eavesdrop, but he couldn’t help it.

“He’ll be okay. Right now, he’s just in a tough spot.” You explained, stopping at your husband’s side to kiss him.

***

Another half hour had passed. Lana sat at the kitchen table, just finished up her breakfast.

“Can I go down to the river with a few friends, daddy?”

“Ask your mother, little dove.” Geralt said, golden eyes lifting from the bestiary on the table next to his plate. He looked at her for a brief moment before bringing his attention to you.

“Mom?”

“After you help Bram clean the stalls.”

“What if I clean my half since he’s taking forever?” She bargained, quirking a brow up.

“How about you go out and start and he can join you whenever he’s finished with his breakfast?” You tilted your head to the side a little, a little grin tugging at the corner of your lips. “It won’t kill you to wait for your brother, Lana. It’s not even noon yet.”

“Fine.” She sighed.

You watched her leave through the front door.

“She’s got your attitude.”

“I beg your pardon?” You brought your attention to your husband.

The corner of his lips turned up a little.

“That huff she did, the way she threw her shoulders down like it pained her to have to put her plans on hold, that’s exactly what you do when you’ve got something set in your mind and you can’t do it.”

You chuckled, shaking your head.

The door to Bram’s room clicked shut and you fell silent, wanting to listen carefully for him.

He came around the corner a few moments later. The bruising on his face looked worse than last night. Underneath his eye was dark blue and black and it extended out to his cheek.

“Good morning, sleepy.” You greeted him with a warm smile. “Would you like me to make you tea? I’ve got the kettle still warmed up.”

He nodded his head.

“You look like you had a rough night.” Geralt commented. He didn’t let his gaze linger on Bram for too long. He turned to page in his bestiary and took a sip of tea.

“I…. I didn’t…. get much rest.” He admitted, absentmindedly rubbing his arm. “Um, can I…. Can I talk to you for a minute, dad?”

“Of course.” Geralt nodded his head. He closed his bestiary and gestured for Bram to sit down where Lana had previously been sitting.

“Do you want me to leave, Bram?” You asked him.

“No, mom. You can stay.”

You nodded and continued to make his tea.

Bram sat there for a few moments, wringing his hands together and chewing on the inside of his cheek. His stomach churned and the urge to vomit nearly overpowered the need to cry.

Geralt watched his son for a few minutes, trying to think of a way to make this easier for him.

“Dad, I-I don’t like…. I don’t like girls.” He murmured, keeping his eyes cast downwards. “I’m-I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for, Bram?” Geralt asked him.

“That I’ll never- I’ll never be the son you want me to be. The perfect son. I’ll-I’ll never be able to carry on the family name.” He ran a hand over his face to quickly wipe away the tears on his cheeks.

“You are exactly the son I want you to be, Bram.” Geralt spoke as he reached over to place his hand on Bram’s shoulder. The boy furrowed his brows together, looking up at Geralt.

“You aren't…. You aren't ashamed of me? That I…. I'm….?”

“Nothing in this world can make me ashamed of you, son. You're strong-willed, and you have a sense of what is right and what isn't. You're a bright boy with a good future ahead of you. Who you love doesn't effect that.”

Bram nodded his head. His eyes flickered down to the table in front of him.

You moved to place his tea in front of him. You rubbed his back and leaned down to kiss his head.

“We love you.” Your words were whispered against his hair.

“Now, who did you let put those bruises on your face?” Geralt asked, effectively shifting the mood. “I hope they ended up worse.”

“They did.” Bram nodded, a little grin coming to his lips. “Knocking him square in his ass.”

“You'll have to show me how it happened later on after you help your sister. I’ll give you some pointers on how to prevent them from getting you in the face like that.”

“He only caught me once or twice, dad.”

“Sure had me fooled.”

You smiled as you moved to make Bram a plate.

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#geralt of rivia x reader #geralt x reader #geralt fic #the witcher #dad!geralt of rivia #dad!geralt #dad!witchers #the witcher oneshot #geralt fluff #queenxxxsupreme

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jaskierswolf · 4 years

Text

Jaskier’s A-Z of Animals

Summary: “I have an idea!” Lambert announced loudly, his words slurring slightly. He’d clearly drunk too much white gull.

Jaskier flicked his ears and tilted his head. This could only end terribly.

- Or Lambert suggests a game of Guess the Animal.

Previous Story (but this can also be read alone)

_________

Jaskier purred happily as Geralt’s fingers threaded through his fur. The fire was roaring in the hearth and Jaskier delighted in the prickle of heat against his feline body. The witchers were all drunk as skunks but Jaskier hadn’t felt like joining in with their merriment. Their witcher booze did strange things to his head and he’d vowed to bring his own store of ale or wine along with him next time.

Lambert was pontificating loudly, swishing his hands about and rambling on about some stupid humans he’d met on the path. Apparently they’d tried to swindle him out of his coin after a contract. Jaskier yawned and flicked his tail, hissing gently. He’d seen enough of that behaviour over the last few months with Geralt. Luckily for Geralt, Jaskier the mutant dog/wolf companion had been incredibly efficient at persuading the more nefarious humans to relinquish their coin. Geralt scratched him behind the ears. Jaskier meowed and rolled onto his back so that Geralt could scratch his belly.

The witcher chuckled. “Always so needy, you bastard.” He murmured fondly but his fingers still moved to Jaskier’s soft fur on his underbelly.

Jaskier hissed and grabbed Geralt’s fingers under his claws. He didn’t draw blood but Geralt should know better than to call him needy. That just wasn’t fair.

“Jask.” Geralt warned and pulled his fingers away.

Well now, that wouldn’t do. He yowled loudly and tilted his head, widening his eyes as he peered up at his witcher.

Geralt rolled his eyes. “Stop scratching me then.”

Jaskier mewed and rolled back over so he could climb up onto Geralt’s shoulder. He nipped at Geralt’s ear gently.

“I have an idea!” Lambert announced loudly, his words slurring slightly. He’d clearly drunk too much white gull.

Jaskier flicked his ears and tilted his head. This could only end terribly.

“Spit it out, Lambert.” Geralt grumbled.

“Fuck off, patience, White Wolf!” Lambert glared at him and tripped over the rug. He almost fell flat on his face but Jaskier was quicker. He leapt to the ground, shifting mid leap into a wolf. Lambert fell against him and laughed. “I found a Jaskier!”

Eskel snorted. “You didn’t find him. Geralt found him and then he shagged him.”

Geralt groaned. “You guys are drunk.”

“Yeah, well, You’re not drunk enough!” Lambert mumbled into Jaskier’s fur.

He howled and wagged his tail.

“See, Jaskier agrees with me!” Lambert grinned. “Who’s a good boy? Are you a good boy?”

Jaskier barked, turning so he could nuzzle against Lambert. He wrinkled his nose as the scent of white gull hit him. Gods it stank, especially in this form. He really didn’t know how the witchers could bear it.

“He’s not actually a dog, Lambert.” Geralt sighed wearily.

Jaskier turned to Geralt and growled. He was a good boy! Geralt was just a grumpy witcher.

“Fine. Whatever.” Geralt rolled his eyes but came over to join them on the floor.

Jaskier wagged his tail and then sat in Geralt’s lap. Geralt huffed but rested his chin on Jaskier’s back. Lambert continued to scratch him behind the ears and he was in heaven. It really was a dog’s life at Kaer Morhen.

“I want a go.” Eskel whined. “Geralt always gets a go.”

“Get your own.” Geralt grumbled and buried his face in Jaskier’s thick fur.

Geralt was apparently a sleepy drunk this evening. Jaskier liked that, Geralt was always more cuddly when he was tired, but he was also being a grumpy bastard and needed to learn to share. Jaskier rolled his eyes and leapt from Geralt lap. He jumped at Eskel, putting his paws on the man’s shoulders, and licked him in the face.

“Puppy!” Eskel laughed and scrunched his nose up as Jaskier continued to lick his face.

“What was your idea?” Geralt asked Lambert.

“My idea! Guess the animal!” He yelled.

Jaskier sat back down and barked. He assumed he would play a part in this game. He growled quietly, a low rumble in his chest. The witchers knew that he didn’t enjoy being treated like an experiment. He didn’t want this game to turn into a test of his abilities like it had beenat Lettenhove. He shifted again into a mouse and scurried back to Geralt. The room blurred as he shifted and he used his whiskers to guide him as he buried into Geralt’s shift.

Geralt snarled at the redhead. “Lambert!”

“What?”

“He’s family, not a toy.” Geralt’s voice rumbled in his chest and Jaskier could feel the vibrations. He squeaked and nuzzled Geralt’s chest.

“I know!” Lambert whined. “But I thought…”

“You don’t think!” Geralt snapped. “That’s your problem.”

Jaskier squeaked again. He wanted to know Lambert’s reasons. He wanted to trust them. They were Geralt’s family and they’d be nothing but accepting of his gifts.

“I thought!” Lambert continued loudly. “That he knew he could trust us. I thought that it could be fun for him too, he could show off a bit and he knows none of us care what he can and can’t do.”

Jaskier considered that carefully and shifted back into a cat. He poked his head out the top of Geralt’s shirt.

“Jaskier!” Geralt grumbled.

He chirped happily. The temptation to shift back to human was almost too much. Geralt saw him naked all the time. He was allowed to enjoy the thought of ripping his boyfriend’s shirt to shreds, but instead he ducked back inside the shirt and crawled out the bottom.

When he was seated back in Geralt’s lap he shifted to human.

The others yelled and pretended to cover their eyes.

“I’m in.” He announced, not bothering to cover himself and batting Geralt’s hands away. “But I reserve the right to stop at any time. The moment I feel like it’s more than a fun game then I’m out. Got it?”

Lambert grinned and extended his hand. “Deal.”

They shook on it.

“Game stops once I turn into a wolf. No questions asked.”

There was a mumble of agreement.

Jaskier thought about his knowledge of animals. It wasn’t complete despite what the witchers may think. Some animals came easier to him, the wolf and the cat for example. He found mammals easier in general. He supposed the genetic make up was closer to his human form. He was also limited by what animals he knew. He’d spent a lot of time in his youth studying books on animals. They were the only books his parents had allowed him to have in his dimeritium prison of a bedroom. For years the books had been his only access to his abilities outside of the controlled ‘sessions’.

He would start easy enough. He gave Geralt as quick kiss on the cheek and winked before letting the magic loose once more. His skin rippled back into ginger fur and his bones crunched as he shifted in Geralt’s lap.

“FOX!!” Lambert yelled. “Aww look at you. So cute.”

Jaskier let out a screeching bark and trotted over to the redhead with his bushy tail trailing after him. He nuzzled against Lambert’s open palm and shifted again.

He slithered to the floor with a hiss. Reptiles were probably his least favourite animal so he was eager to get this out of the way. The room lit up in infra red and he flicked his tongue tasting the air as he familiarised himself with the room in this form. The witchers ran cooler than humans and it was difficult to make them out with the fire drawing his eye from the corner of the room.

“Snake!” Lambert shouted again and Jaskier turned to hiss at him. He slithered up the witcher’s arm and curled around his shoulders, flicking his tongue in Lambert’s ear. “Get off.” He grumbled. “Next one!”

Jaskier shook his head and hissed.

“We have to be more specific?” He heard Eskel ask.

He nodded. He’d chosen this particular snake for a reason. The scales were distinct, yellow and bristly. He slithered back to the floor and curled up into a ball.

“Umm… Viper?” Geralt asked.

Jaskier nodded again and hissed.

“Prickly viper!” Lambert tried.

“Spiky viper?” Eskel guessed.

Both good guesses but not quite right. He hissed and shifted to human, lounging extravagantly on the rug. “Spiny bush viper, found in desert regions.” He accidentally hissed on the ’s’ sounds and grinned sheepishly. “I saw a picture in a book when I was younger. ”

Before they could question him further he shifted again, blue and orange feathers rippled out this time instead of fur. He flitted between the witchers landing on each of their heads, and he suddenly had an overwhelming craving for fish, he was starving! He He wondered if there was any in the kitchens. He was sure Vesemir wouldn’t mind if he went for a snack.

Geralt must have recognised the animal instincts taking over and he caught Jaskier gently in his hands. Jaskier fluttered his wings angrily in Geralt’s hands and chirped loudly, trying to find an escape from his prison.

“Kingfisher.” Geralt said softly in a whisper. “Next one, Jask.”

Jaskier chirped again but let Geralt’s rough soothing voice ground him. He shifted in Geralt’s hands, his wings growing and the feathers disappearing until was a fluffy bundle in Geralt’s palm.

Geralt slowly opened his hands and Jaskier flinched away from the light. This choice had been logical in the darkness of Geralt’s hands but the bright light of the room was almost too much. He fluttered up to the ceiling, dipping a few times as his wings felt heavier than expected. It was time to rest. He felt incredibly tired all of a sudden. He curled his wings around him as he found a nook to rest in.

“Did anyone see that?” Lambert asked. “The bugger moved too fast.”

“You’re just getting slow in your old age.” Geralt laughed.

“I’m younger than you, old man!” Lambert grumbled and Jaskier heard the two witchers start to brawl.

“Jaskier!” Eskel called. “Come down and control your boyfriend.”

Boyfriend.

Geralt.

Jaskier closed his eyes and jumped from his hiding place. Shifting again mid-air into a kestrel, but for the first time in a while the shift didn’t come easy. He almost dropped to the ground before he managed to find the energy to flap his wings.

He’d done too many shifts too quickly. Cat. Wolf. Mouse. Cat. Human. Fox. Snake. Human. Kingfisher. Vampire Bat. Kestrel.

Fuck.

He’d hadn’t even noticed it had been so many.

Even back at Lettenhove he’d struggled with ten at a time. The most he’d pushed it before had been fifteen and that had almost killed him. It had been years since he’d tried. He could stay as any form for as long as he liked but too many consecutive shifts were exhausting. He’d forgotten about that. He usually settled after two or three, six at a push. There wasn’t much need to keep flitting about in different forms.

He tumbled to the ground, crash landing on the rug. The noise broke up the fight between the two grumpier witcher and Geralt scooped him up in his arms. “Jaskier, what’s wrong?” He murmured and he stroked a finger along Jaskier’s fur.

“Too much white gull!” Lambert slurred. “Drunk birds can’t fly.”

Geralt snarled at Lambert but didn’t answer him. “Can you shift to human?” He asked quietly.

Jaskier considered it. His wings felt limp but nothing was broken. He was just tired, he needed a nap and food… gods he was so hungry.

“Jask, don’t sleep. Not yet. I need to know you’re ok.” Geralt was obviously worried and Jaskier felt a little guilty for forgetting his own limits like that. He should have known better.

He’d just been swept up in the witchers’ joy and laughter, knowing the excitement they felt had nothing to do with wanting to use and abuse his abilities. The tasks had been so similar to those he’d performed at Lettenhove but the warmth and affection of the witchers had been the opposite of the calm calculated coolness of his parents.

Geralt needed to know he was ok. He needed words.

That meant he had to shift.

He let his magic go one last time and collapsed against Geralt’s chest. “Fuck!” He groaned. “Game over.”

And passed out.

________

When he awoke he was covered in furs and wearing one of Geralt’s black shirts by the feel of it. Geralt’s shirts were rougher fabric than his own. His whole body ached and he felt liked he’d run through one of the witcher obstacle courses, twice. Geralt’s fingers were in his hair and he could hear him bickering with Lambert.

“Well how was I supposed to know?” Lambert grumbled. “It’s not like I purposely set out to hurt him.”

“Again.” Eskel chimed, clearly amused by the entire argument.

If Jaskier’s head hadn’t been quite so sore he probably would have laughed. He’d underestimated the blond witcher when he’d first arrived at Kaer Morhen. He’d been taken in by Eskel’s kind and gentle personality. He’d hadn’t noticed the glimmer of humour underneath. Eskel seemed to thrive in chaos. He enjoyed gently pushing and teasing his fellow witchers until they were almost at each other’s throats and Vesemir had to calm everyone down. The others hadn’t even seemed to realise that it was Eskel manipulating the entire conversation. Jaskier had a huge amount of respect for Eskel as a result.

“Again.” Geralt growled.

Jaskier knew his witcher was about two seconds away from brawling with Lambert again and he took pity on the redhead. He groaned dramatically and snuggled further into Geralt’s lap.

“Jaskier?” Geralt’s hands stopped in his hair.

“Morning…” He mumbled.

“What happened, pup?” Jaskier blinked a few times and then opened his eyes. Vesemir had joined them… oh and they were in his bedroom.

“Shifted too many times.” He muttered. “Forgot to take a break.”

“This has never happened before.” Geralt hummed thoughtfully.

Jaskier tried to sit up but his head span so he flopped back onto Geralt’s lap on the bed. Geralt was sitting up against the headboard and Jaskier had essentially been using him as a pillow, not an unusual occurrence. The others were crowded around the bed. He felt a pang of guilt. He must have really worried them for them to all be here.

“Not for years. When was the last time you’ve seen me shift more than…” He pause to think “six times?”

Geralt just hummed a response.

“Yeah, didn’t think so.” He grumbled. “Now can everyone please fuck off, I’m tired.”

The witchers all grumbled and began to filter out of them room. Lambert mumbling what could have been an apology as he left.

Jaskier’s stomach rumbled noisily. “Oi! Wait! On second thoughts! Lambert, darling, dearest witcher. Have we got any fish?”

Lambert groaned and stalked out the room. “I’m only doing this because I almost killed you, wolf.”

“Again!” Eskel pointed out with a laugh.

“Fuck off!”

Jaskier grinned and cuddled up against his boyfriend. Family, you couldn’t live without them.

_______

Next Story!

#the witcher #geraskier #geraskier fanfiction #shapeshifter!jaskier #shifter!jaskier #geralt of rivia #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #geralt/jaskier #witcher eskel #witcher lambert #kaer morhen #wolfie's witcher writing #jaskier pankratz #jaskiers a-z of animals

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fangirleaconmigo · 3 years

Text

Ok I haven’t written this pairing yet, but does anyone want a Lambert x Jaskier headcanon? If so, read on.

ETA: I completely forgot that I HAVE done a short tumblr Lambskier fic before 😂😭 my memory is shit. If I don’t put it on AO3, apparently I don’t remember it.

——

When Lambert is an asshole, Geralt and Eskel don’t rise to the bait. They are both essentially peace seeking men. Also, there is something about knowing Lambert for half a century that makes his personality traits feel comfortable and well worn. Like home. He is incapable of riling them. Even when he says or does things that no one else could get away with. Bottom line is, they love him, and they’re used to him.

Then Jaskier shows up. Introducing Lambert and Jaskier is like lighting the wick of an explosive, but instead of destroying objects, it just destroys the patience of everyone around them. When Lambert provokes, Jaskier rises to the challenge every time. When Lambert is a bitch, Jaskier is a double bitch. Jaskier’s comebacks may not be as acerbic, but what he lacks in originality and precision, he compensates for in verve and style.

Geralt and Eskel hope they will get used to each other, but the insults grow more heated and more accurate every day. Geralt and Eskel actually wince at how close they are cutting to the bone. Geralt has taken to just walking away, which drives Eskel nuts.

“You always desert me with those two!” (Accusatory)

“You can leave too.” (Shrugs) “Eat with me in the kitchen.” (Resigned)

Vesemir is no help. He developed selective hearing ages ago. He’s like a brick wall of refusing to acknowledge foolishness.

Eskel begins to think they are actually going to kill each other and manages to convince Geralt to stage an intervention with him. They go together to Lambert’s room, and realize that something is wrong. They hear banging and thumping along with strangled cries and heatedly whispered insults. They think they are too late. Jaskier and Lambert have turned to actual violence. Since Geralt doesn’t want Jaskier’s murder on his conscience, they ease the door open.

There is broken furniture, chipped crockery, and ripped clothing lying around, forgotten. Lambert and Jaskier are half dressed and murmuring insults in the heat of a spirited fucking. They are so consumed with each other they don’t even notice the intrusion. Geralt and Eskel back out quietly and close the door.

It turns out, being mean is their love language. Insults are their foreplay. Geralt and Eskel knock on every door before entering the rest of the winter, no matter what their ears tell them. And now that they know what they are dealing with, they are able to work out solutions. For one thing, they figure out that pairing Lambert and Jaskier up during training (because suddenly, for the first time in his life, Jaskier is interested in learning to properly wield a sword) allows them to work out some of the aggression and be a lot less annoying at mealtimes.

#bombard #jaskier #Lambert #my witcher fic concepts #descarada writes jaskier x lambert #lambskier #the witcher #my witcher headcanons #lambert x jaskier

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mwolf0epsilon · 4 years

Photo

Aite, here’s the Joey Drew Studios and Co. from least to most cuddliest.

Bertrum Piedmont - Back off heathen. Physical affection is not his thing whatsoever. He’s more of a pep-talker. Might offer you comfort food as well as a sign of appreciation and affection. Hugs are reserved to people he trusts specifically.

Emma Lamont - Do you know who she is? She’s Emma Lamont, she doesn’t DO hugs. She doesn’t do little touches either. Her body, her wonderful and disciplined livelihood, is off limits. She’s had enough creeps trying to cop a feel in her youth, she’s not allowing anyone to get handsy with her ever again.

Lacie Benton - Honey, you want a hug, go hire a therapist or something. The best she’ll give you is a slap on the back and some words of encouragement. She doesn’t do soft mushy stuffs like cuddling or whatever. She’s a lady of iron will and steel bones. Not the most huggable of gals.

Doc Hackenbush - Cuddles are reserved for his daughter only. He’s a bit closed up to physical affection otherwise due to...Having had a pretty complicated relationship that left him emotionally drained. Physical touches are work-related only. He’s pretty gentle tho, so usually a checkup doesn’t feel overly cold or clinical. It’s obvious he’s a gentle sort.

Abby Lambert - If she trusts you enough, she’ll offer a hug. Trust is a pretty important thing for her in general when initiating affectionate moments. She will get upset if someone else initiates the contact without her express permission however.

Thomas Connor - His parents, Allison and his dog are the only ones he’s remotely comfortable being hugged or touched by. He’s not exactly the cuddliest of men and he’s pretty awkward with affection in general. Allison was helping him explore the more physical side of their relationship.

Grant Cohen - While he’s not completely opposed to being touched, he’s uncomfortable if the contact is prolonged. He can also get overwhelmed if he experiences too much contact in one day. It’s a bit like sensory overload for him, since he’s used to being left on his lonesome for extended periods of time. Will absolutely melt if held by someone he’s very close to.

Shawn Flynn - Physical affection is both rough and soft on his part. He’ll shove people out of the way, hold their hand through certain situations, push or pull them to move faster if they’re being too slow, and correct whatever mistakes they’re doing by either removing them from the situation, or taking control himself. He’s not being hostile when he does these things, he’s just a little impatient at times. Cuddling is a different story, it’s the only time he ever has any patience for the passage of time at a slow crawl.

Joey Drew - Touch starved but very picky with who gives him any sort of physical affection. Will act like a lost puppy if he’s around someone he absolutely trusts. Will become incredibly cold and hostile towards those he perceives as having betrayed his trust. Doesn’t speak to them and refuses their touch. You feel sort of...Cold around him.

Allison Pendle - After establishing boundaries, Allison will go from being a reserved lady to being the most physical lady you’ve ever met. Consent is a big deal for her, so this sort of affection is reserved for those she knows have earned it. She’s eager to help get others more comfortable with the more physical side of either a platonic relationship or a romantic relationship. She strives to make everyone she holds dear to her, feeling happy and secure in her presence.

Dot - She’s ok with dispensing hugs with most people if it means they might feel better. Hand-holding on the other hand is sacred for her. It’s only ever done with people she feels safe around.

Buddy Lewek - He’s a little on the shy side so he doesn’t initiate contact very often. He seems more like the one needing the physical reassurances than anything else.

Susie Campbell - She’ll hug and even jump on people she’s absolutely comfortable around of. Otherwise she keeps her hands to herself and keeps a close eye on people in case they’re about to initiate any form of unsolicited physical affection. She’s not an easy gal after all!

Sammy Lawrence - The odds are 90% to 10%. He’ll either deck you if you touch him, or he’ll allow it to happen. Has a very finite list of people allowed in his personal bubble, and will either rip you a new one with words alone, or knock your teeth out if you’re nowhere near qualified to touch him. The only people that know he’s a bit of a secret cuddle bug are Jack, Susie, Norman, and his sister. Everyone else assumes he has a heart of stone.

Wally Franks - To a degree, his physical affections is a little more aggressive at first glance. He’ll either eagerly hug you or suplex you. Will wrestle with people on a whim if he’s feeling rowdy. Has a tendency to slap people on the back as a sign of friendship, but he’s got a bit of a heavy hand. He’s basically an overeager puppy with way too much energy and a lack of understanding that he might be a bit too much for other people to handle at times.

Linda Stein - She is the sort to pick people up to get them out of certain situations, or to offer comfort if they’re upset. This is usually reserved to family and friends however.

Jack Fain - He’s the type of guy who will initiate contact as both a sign of friendship and affection. He’ll bump shoulders, give you back pats, shove you playfully if you tell a bad joke, etc. Great hugger too!

Norman Polk - Absolute cuddlebug. He’s got the physical build for great hugs too! You wouldn’t know this of course because usually Norman is very reserved.

Henry Stein - He’s a very physically affectionate person. The sort to hug or hold people to comfort them. The embodiment of great dad hugs and gentle pats.

#Bendy and the Ink Machine #BATIM #Headcanons

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restmyheadatnightcontent · 4 years

Text

febuwhump day 23 - ‘don’t look’

a continuation of this with some mama yen and a smidge of family fluff

geraskefer & ciri | 1258 words | cw: blood and injury

____

Ciri is almost asleep by the time someone comes for them. She is not sure how much time had passed, but eventually her constant worrying had tired her out and now she was dozing, blinking herself awake every few minutes, determined to see them when they returned.

The silence of their makeshift camp was broken by the snapping of twigs just behind the tree. She sits up reaching for her dagger, seeing Jaskier do the same next to her. He stands in front of her, knife gripped tightly in his hand as a figure makes their way out from the trees. She breathes a sigh of relief when she sees that it is just Yennefer but Jaskier is still tense, and does not relax until he lays the flat of his silver blade against the flat of her hand, confirming that it is in fact Yennefer. Although Ciri’s heart drops again when she sees that it is just Yennefer, no Witcher in sight.

“He’s alive,” she says, answering Ciri’s question before she could even ask it. “He’s alive but he’s been badly injured. I called Triss and we portalled him up to Kaer Morhen so he could get help.”

Ciri managed to relax slightly at the knowledge Geralt was alive. She doesn’t know what she would do if she were to lose him, but she does not need to think of that now. He’s alive, and he will heal. Especially with Yennefer and Triss helping him.

Jaskier quickly packs up their things and then the three of them, plus Roach, are stepping through a portal and into the keep. Once the dizziness passes and her stomach settles, she runs into the hall to see that Geralt has been laid down on the table, but she cannot see much more than that as everyone is surrounding him. All the Witchers are huddled around the table, as well as Triss, and none of them look up at her entrance. She makes her way towards the foot of the table and stops suddenly at the sight. Lambert and Cöen are holding Geralt down as Eskel pushes into his wound, Triss stands opposite him, hands moving quickly as she mutters incantations under her breath, Vesemir stands at Geralts head, holding his head still with one hand whilst trying to coax potions down his throat. But the thing that makes Ciri stop is the blood. There is so much of it, everyone stood at the table seems to be covered in it and yet more and more seems to flow from Geralt’s stomach. His entire torso seems to have been ripped open and she’s sure she can see his organs and—

“Don’t look at this, little one. You don’t need to see this,” a voice says as a hand comes to her shoulder and turns her so now she is looking at Yen.

“But – but I can help – I should stay and –” she says, trying to struggle from Yen’s grip and turn back towards the table.

“You can’t help,” she says bluntly “Not now. I know it looks bad, but we will fix it and he will be fine. Geralt would not want you to see this. The best thing you can do to help is to be ready and waiting for when he wakes up.”

“There must be something I can do! Some way that I can help! What’s the point of all this learning if I can’t do anything to help?” she cries. “What’s the point?”

Yen’s face softens and she crouches down in front of her and cups her cheek. “Healing magic is complicated, and it takes years of practice and patience. Even I still find it difficult after all this time. It is never easy to see the ones we care about suffer, and it takes great sacrifice to step back when they are hurting to let someone else take care of them, but that it what I need you to do now. I know it is horrible, but I need you to be brave.”

Ciri sniffs and nods. She can be brave. She is the Lion Cub of Cintra after all.

“It will be alright, I promise, we just need to be patient. So go and get some food, have a wash and try and get some rest. I’ll come and get you as soon as he wakes up,” Yen reassures her, hand wiping away Ciri’s tears.

“Besides, someone needs to keep an eye on Jaskier and makes sure he doesn’t get himself into trouble,” Yennefer adds, sending her a wink and she lets out a small giggle at the indignant ‘Hey!’ she hears come from the bard. He walks towards them, with a cheery smile plastered on fake and she notices the way he keeps his eyes fixed firmly away from the table.

“Come along then, Princess. Let’s go find something to eat, shall we?” he asks, holding out his hand. She glances up at Yennefer again, who gives her a small smile, before she takes his hand.

Neither of them pass comment on the way the others hand trembles as they make their way towards the kitchen. They sit and eat whatever they can easily find, neither of them feeling up to cooking anything. Once the food is finished, they head down to the springs and as sinks down into the water, the warmth envelopes her and she feels the tiredness from earlier return. After she clean and dry, she makes her way up to her room and collapses into bed. Jaskier comes and perches on the bed, running his hand through her hair.

“Stay until I fall asleep?” she asks quietly. If she cannot be with her whole family right now, she will take whatever small part of it she can.

“Of course, darling,” he replies, before softly singing her favourite lullaby, the one that her mother used to sing to her when she was a baby, and before long she is asleep.

“Ciri.”

She blinks her eyes open at the sound of her name to find Yennefer looking down at her, her position almost identical to Jaskier’s before she fell asleep. She looks tired, there are flecks of blood on her face and dress, but she is smiling.

“He’s awake,” she says and Ciri blinks once more before throwing the blankets aside and rushing out the room. She runs and skids into the hall, only stopping when she sees a familiar pair of golden eyes looking at her.

“Hello, cub” he says, his voice hoarse and he sounds exhausted but she doesn’t care because he is awake and he’s here.

She runs and throws her arms around his neck as tight as she can without disturbing his injury.

“I’m so glad you’re alright - I was so scared – there was so much blood and—”

“I’m okay,” he cuts her off, wrapping his arm around her. Ciri lifts her head from his shoulder to see his other hand is held tightly in Yennefer’s who is sitting on the other side of the table, with her other arm wrapped around Jaskier who is leaning against her side. He looks tired too, bags heavy under his eyes but he also has a wide smile on his face.

She turns back to Geralt and jabs a finger into an unbruided portion of his chest. “You have to promise to never get hurt and scare me like that again!”

He huffs out a small laugh at the pout on her face and says “I promise.”

“Good.”

#febuwhump #febuwhumpday23 #my fic #my writing #the witcher #the witcher fic #geraskefer #geraskefer fic #geralt x yennefer x jaskier #geralt #yennefer #jaskier #ciri

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pressedinthepages · 4 years

Text

Resfeber (Chapter 2)

Swedish. noun. The restless race of the traveler’s heart before the journey begins, when anxiety and anticipation are tangled together.

Fandom: The Witcher

Pairing: Lambert x Reader

Word Count: 2643

Rating: E

Masterlist

a/n: i had a couple of people ask for a continuation/part two to this, and because of who i am as a person, i made it h*rny.

Tags: @whitewolfandthefox @havenoffandoms @MishaFaye @criminaly-supernatural @weathervanes-my-oneandlonely @magpie343 @queenxxxsupreme @belalugosisdead @persephonehemingway @hina-chans-stuff @theawkwardpedestrian @a-stumpsexuals-world

(There is a link on my page where you can be added to my taglist :D)

Warnings: smut, touch sensitivity, touch starvedness, but using it to our advantage ;), come marking, little bit of dirty talk, but im not very good at that so not much XD

You awaken in Lambert’s arms, and you find each other’s touch to be so much more than just comforting.

Dim light peeks through the windows, little birds chirping the call of a new morning. It’s just enough to rouse you, letting you slowly become aware of the body that you’re wrapped around. You welcome the warmth, a sweet noise falling from deep in your lungs as you shift against your companion. The memories of yesterday come back like honey, lazily filling in the blanks as you wake.

You shift a bit, dragging your leg along his as you lean to look up at him. Lambert is already awake, peering at you through half-lidded eyes as he smiles.

“Morning, gorgeous,” he mumbles, his voice rough and tumbled with sleep. You blush, reaching up to brush some hair from where it falls in his eyes. It sticks out wildly, mussed from where he had rested on the pillow.

“I’m glad you’re still here,” you whisper, not wanting to bend the comfortable quiet that a lazy morning brings.

“Hmm, me too…” he hums, his eyes falling shut as you feel his hand on your back tracing light patterns through your shirt. It’s soothing, you find, the gentleness he gives with just the lightest touch. “Is this alright? I didn’t want to move you and wake you up…”

You hum, running your own hand down his cheek and following the line of his jaw. “It’s nice, I like feeling your hands on me.”

You see Lambert’s eyes widen a bit before he tilts his head to the side, not unlike the wolf from his medallion. He lifts the hand that isn’t around your back to your cheek, stopping just short of touching you.

“May I?” he asks and you nod, leaning into his touch and letting the sparks fly under the surface of your skin. You shiver a bit from the sensation before you scooch yourself up, nosing into the hollow of his neck as his hand drifts down your arm. Lambert’s fingers intertwine with yours where they rest on his stomach.

You gently place your lips against the skin of his neck, feeling his breath hitch under your lips when you do.

“I thought you didn’t like to be touched,” he breathes, raspy and gritty with want.

“Hmm, never said I didn’t like touch,” you whisper, your lips just barely brushing against his ear with every word. “Only that I was sensitive to touch. I’m sure that there are spots that are sensitive on you that are quite pleasurable…”

Your hand slides down the plane of his stomach, finding him hard and straining against his undershorts. You hear Lambert hiss at the faintest glance of your fingers along his length. On your next pass though, you grow bolder, pressing your palm against the thin fabric that just barely conceals his cock.

“Oh, fuck,” Lambert bucks into your hand, clenching his jaw with a grunt. You smile against his skin, lightly kissing down his neck before his shirt gets in the way. Suddenly, you’re struck with an idea, and you are weak just thinking about it.

In the space of a heartbeat you lift off of Lambert, flinging the blanket from the bed and letting the chill of the morning air run across your skin. Lambert lets out an annoyed groan that quickly turns into a choked-off moan when you move to straddle his hips. You let your weight rest on him as he sets his hands on your waist. Lambert is a vision like this, bathed in gentle sunlight and desperate under your fingers.

He sits himself up, pulling your chest against him as he catches your lips in a bruising kiss. It’s full of teeth and need and hunger, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. You feel Lambert’s hands bunch the fabric of your nightgown in their grasp. You can imagine him ripping through the soft material as if it were merely made of thin parchment, and that sends a dizzying wave of arousal straight to your core.

“Ah, wait,” you murmur into his mouth, pulling back as you catch your breath. You slide your hands under the hem of his undershirt, feeling the taught muscles of his stomach jump and twitch under your fingers. Just before you can lift the shirt over his head he lunges forward, catching your bottom lip between his teeth before he nips and bites along the slope of your neck.

“Gods, I want you,” Lambert’s stubble scratches along the delicate flesh with his words, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake.

“So do I, dear-” your words cut off with a low moan as you feel him sink his teeth into your pulse point, licking and sucking to soothe the forming mark. “I’d much rather have you naked, though.”

You feel his cock throb against your core, clearly agreeing with you. You move backward, lifting yourself from the bed just out of Lambert’s reach. The wooden floors of your cabin are cool under your bare feet, grounding you as you reach for the hem of your nightgown. You swiftly pull it over your head, letting it float to the floor behind you as your fingers drift lazily over your bare chest.

Lambert’s eyes burn with their intensity, chasing the path of your hands as you openly tease him with your newly exposed skin. The peaks of your breasts are stiff, rolling between your fingers and drawing a breathy gasp from your lungs. You let your eyes rove over Lambert, really wishing that his clothes were literally anywhere else instead of on his body.

“You seem terribly overdressed, darling,” you smirk, lightly thumbing the waist of your underthings. He’s blatantly palming himself through his shorts, a truly delicious grin dancing over the glint of his teeth when he catches your eye. Lambert reaches up, taking the neck of his shirt and lifting it, shucking it from is arms onto the floor. You bite your lip as you take in the new sight, the muscles of his arms swelling as he twists his broad shoulders, the brutal strength of his torso dusted with dark hair and more scars than you can count.

You hook your fingers into your underthings and slide them down, leaving them where they fall as you step back towards the bed. Lambert moves to touch you but you hold out a hand, stopping him before he can.

“Can I try something?” you ask, and you see a brief flicker of worry through the lust in Lambert’s eyes. He is at his most vulnerable, and this would be the perfect time for someone to get the upper hand on him and betray his trust. You have no intention of doing that though, pouring as much kindness and comfort into your gaze. You watch as the lump in his throat bobs as he swallows nervously, leaning back to lay on the bed.

“I trust you,” he whispers, barely loud enough for you to hear. Your heart swells with the knowledge of his trust, knowing that it is not something given easily.

“Do me a favor, love,” you walk to the foot of the bed, peering down at him with a lazy smile, “take those off for me, nice and slow.”

Lambert looks up at you then and inhales deeply, a pretty flush decorating his chest and traveling up his neck. You see his eyes darken, leaving only a whisper of gold around a void of black. A naughty smirk dances over his features as he lifts his hips, leisurely sliding the undershorts down his legs. You watch unashamedly, biting your lip as, inch by inch, Lambert becomes bare before you.

“You’re beautiful,” you sigh, your eyes trailing over the swells of his thighs and up to the length of his cock, aching and weeping with arousal.

“May I touch you?” You reach out carefully, stopping just shy of his leg.

“Oh gods, please,” the Witcher lying on your bed whines, pulling a giggle from your lips at the frankly ridiculous noise. You let your fingers just barely fall onto his calf, tracing a swirl of lines back and forth up past his knee. Lambert arches into the touch, desperate for more, harder, impatient as you predicted he’d be.

You tut, pulling your hand away as he tries to increase your pace. “Please? Humor me?” You put your hands on your hips and give him your best chiding look. He stares back at you for a moment, testing you, but when you only raise your eyebrows a little higher he relents, relaxing back onto the pillow.

“Thank you, just be patient dear,” you murmur, your fingers drifting back to their place at his knee. Lambert hums in acknowledgment, not terribly happy about having to exercise his almost nonexistent patience, but he thinks that he would endure waiting until the day that pigs sprouted wings and flew across the sky if you would just keep touching him.

You bring your other hand to rest along his other leg, moving your hands in time with one another up towards his hips. You can feel Lambert tremble beneath you, gnawing the inside of his cheek to keep from rushing your exploration. When you continue moving up, avoiding his leaking cock in favor of running your hands through the hair on his chest he huffs, clenching his eyes closed and fisting his hands in the blanket below him. You climb back over him, hovering your hips over his and leaning down, sliding your hands up to the nape of his neck.

When you let your lips brush against his, Lambert’s resolve finally breaks, his hands flying to your hips and pulling you close. You moan into his mouth, letting him deepen the kiss as you feel his hips rock frantically against you. His hips stutter and a sudden warmness spills over your stomach, slick and heady on your skin.

“Oh, oh fuck,” Lambert sighs back into the pillow, throwing an arm over his eyes. “Gods, I’m so sorry, I tried to wait, let you lead, but then it was just too much and I couldn’t-”

You silence him with a kiss, knocking his arm away as you cup the sides of his face. His hands find your hips once more, but they are gentle, reverent in their touch as they sweep up and down your sides.

“I know, I know,” you murmur, smiling down at him as you pull back. You push yourself up to rest on his thighs just below his hips. You can see where Lambert’s seed spilled on the both of your stomachs, a wave of arousal coursing through you at the sight. His cock is still hard where it lays against his hip. You reach down, taking him in your hand and squeezing lightly at the base.

You run your hand up and down a few times, his fingers tightening on your hips as he grunts.

“Please, can I-oh fuck, can I just-” Lambert writhes in your grasp, his pupils blown out and a vein in his neck straining against his skin with how tightly he is clenching his jaw.

“Go ahead,” you smile, gasping when he shifts beneath you and flips you both, switching your positions so that he hovers over you. He leans down to kiss you as he slowly pushes himself inside of you, swallowing your moans as you lightly scratch along his back. You can feel him shudder under your nails, hiding into the crook of your neck as he seats himself fully.

You can feel Lambert everywhere, his teeth glancing along your neck, down your chest to suckle and prod at your breasts. His hands, kneading the plush of your ass where he holds you down to the bed. His chest, pressing against you, and the heat of his breath that drifts lazily over your skin. And the length of his cock, filling you so completely that you’re worried you’ll spill over with want. The burning stretch of your cunt, fading into an ache that can only be quelled by the man above you.

“C’mon, love,” you murmur, threading your fingers through his hair, adorably mussed by sleep and your other activities. Lambert perks up at the nickname, a flash of confusion and denial shrouding his features. You cup his face again and bring him down to you, pulling him out of his spiraling thoughts as you clench your walls around him.

“Fucking shit, holy hell,” the curses continue as he begins to move, slowly thrusting his hips into yours. Soon though, his words become a little softer, resting his forehead on yours as his thrusts quicken.

“Ah, gods, you’re so tight, it’s like you were made just for my cock, I’m not sure I’ll ever be satisfied with anything else, not after you,” his words punctuated by gasps and groans, pulling you oh so close to the edge of your climax. His hips snap relentlessly into you, each time sending a cascade of warmth through your cunt.

You cant your hips in time with his, chasing your high, and Lambert gives an impish grin before capturing your lips once more and bringing one hand to your heat. He rubs quick, tight little circles around the peak of your core, his hips moving wildly and faster than humanly possible. You can feel his chest rumbling against yours, almost as if he were purring as he fucked you into oblivion.

“C’mon, c’mon, let go for me, my dove, let go, yessss…” his words carry you over the edge, your hips jerking wildly in his grasp as you lose yourself in the all-encompassing climax. You cry out, low and lusty as your walls clench Lambert’s cock like a vice, squeezing and pulling him to his own release. He pulls out at the last second with a drawn-out groan, rapidly fucking into his own hand as he spends thick ropes of his release above you. He paints you with it, some of it coming as far up as your lips, letting you eagerly dart your tongue to taste him.

You fall back into the pillows, releasing a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Lambert sinks back onto his heels, his cock still spilling over his fingers.

“My gods,” you whisper in awe, “is it like that every time?”

Lambert laughs, finally relenting as his cock starts to finally fall limp in his grasp. “Well, it’s always a lot, but not usually this much. I may need a minute…”

“Oh, fuck, I may need a bit longer than a minute, dear,” you chuckle, reaching out to pull him next to you. Lambert only takes your hand in his and places a light kiss to the tips of your fingers before dropping them, climbing off of the bed on only slightly wobbly legs. He grabs his undershirt that he had been wearing and lightly dampens it, bringing it back to you and wiping away the evidence of your joined releases before they can get sticky on your skin.

He lets the now soiled cloth fall to the floor before climbing back into the bed, falling next to you with a dramatic ‘oomf’ when he hits the pillow.

You turn over so that you’re on your side, facing Lambert where he mirrors you. He’s wearing a goofy smile that only acts to make him that much more adorable, especially considering how rare that grin probably is.

“Will you stay? At least for a little bit?” you whisper, gently running your hand along the edge of his jaw. He hums noncommittally in response, relaxing into your touch and letting his eyes fall closed. Lambert is suddenly exhausted, and he’s glad for the comfortable space that he feels safe enough to be so exposed in. You let him sleep, content to hold him close for as long as you can until he leaves, taking your heart with him.

#lambert x reader #witcher #smut #not sure anyone asked for 2700 words of this #but yall gonna get it anyways

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queen18xo · 4 years

Text

The Cat And The Wolf Chapter Six

Julian regains consciousness slowly; searing pain coursing through his body. As he came to, he could feel a small unfamiliar frame tucked into the curve of his side, cold hands wrapped around his stomach and the heavy pressure of a relaxed head resting against his bruised chest. As his heavy eyes blink open, he finds a mess of long silver hair curling over his throat and sprawled over his bare chest.

"Umm," he mumbles in confusion, his voice thick with sleep, tongue heavy in his mouth, his forehead pinched as a fresh wave of pain ignited through his abused body. He stares down at the young girl, his sleepy haze receding as his tired eyes rove over the girl's visible features. His heart aches in his chest as he fights against the impulse to tuck the small girl protectively beneath his arm.

"Hello," A sweet voice chirps, as he registers Geralt's daughter, Cirilla staring up at him from where her head rested against his bare chest. Her hair flowed in long waves over his bruised torso; her eyes were an unusual mix between Geralt's golden eyes and a striking violet colour similar to the sorceress' deep purple ones. "Dad always says that cuddles help people heal," She states, her bright eyes fixed on Julian as she speaks, Julian flashes the girl a gentle smile, the young Witcher had always adored children despite the fact most children cowered in fear when they saw him.

"Cirilla." The two bodies in the bed visibly startled at the unexpectedly harsh snap of Geralt's voice where he lingered in the doorway to the room. His frame was tense as he slowly made his way further into the room. "I'm sorry Julian," Geralt apologised, his voice significantly softer upon realising the younger Witcher was awake. His eyes remained trained on his daughter, his reprimanding glare a stark contrast to the soft words spoken. "Ciri what did I say?" Geralt's voice was soft, but his tone was stern as he came to kneel beside the girl where she rested against Julian.

"I was just trying to help," Ciri mumbled, Geralt's eyes flicked up to Julians, his warm gaze worried as he carefully took in every detail of Julian's sleep flushed face. Geralt's pale cheeks flushed pink as his gaze strayed to the exposed flesh of Julian's injured torso. "I'm sorry," the girl whispers as she pulls herself from where she's curled against the Cat.

Julian’s chest constricts uncomfortably as the little girl's big sad eyes meet his. He holds up a hand silencing Geralt as the older Witcher opens his mouth to speak, the older Witcher snaps his mouth shut grateful to Julian for saving him from having to respond. Julian curled his hands into clenched fists; his plump bottom lip caught between his sharp teeth as he fought against the searing pain ripping through his upper body as he sat himself up against the cold wall behind the bed. He carefully pulls Ciri against his side, wrapping a comforting arm around her small frame, he faces the girl using his forefinger to tilt her chin up, so their eyes meet.

"You don't need to apologise, sweetheart, all your dad means is that sometimes people can get uncomfortable when someone they don't know is close to them, okay cub?" Julian's voice is soft, his tone patient and understanding as he gently explains to the girl.

Geralt crouches carefully beside the bed, silently watching as Julian comforts his daughter. An unfamiliar warmth blooms in the wolf's chest as the younger Witcher pulls Cirilla against his side. Geralt's eyes slowly roam over Julian's torso, the man's gentle words a quiet hum in the background as guilt pools in Geralt's gut at the various slashes and purpling bruises that adorn the beautiful man's torso.

"Can I cuddle you, Julian?" The girl asks, demonstrating her understanding of the conversation, Julian's lips tug up into a bright smile, the cut on his lip burning with the uncomfortable stretch. His eyes flit to Geralt, the sudden pause in conversation, drawing the man's attention back to the present. Julian observes Geralt; his pain dulled blue eyes sparking with curiosity as Geralt pulls his eyes from the man's exposed stomach. His glowing eyes fix on Julians, the younger man's mouth twitching up with a subtle smirk before turning his attention back to Ciri.

"Of course, Cub, come here," Julian said, pulling the girl further against his chest. Out of the corner of his eyes, Julian notices Geralt watching them, a discreet smile tugging at his lips as Ciri wraps her dainty arms around Julian, tucking herself snugly against his side. Beneath the surface happiness, he can see Geralt's desperate to speak with him privately, the larger man's eyes clouded with concern and apprehension each time their gazes meet above Cirilla's head.

Geralt and Julian look to the door as a gentle knock breaks the silence. Standing in the doorway is Vesemir. His appearance was not unexpected, however, stood nervously at his side is Lambert, who steadfastly avoids Julian's curious gaze. Vesemir has a medicine bag slung over his shoulder as the two Wolves approach the bed.

"Ciri why don't you go track Eskel down and get him to spar with you?" Geralt suggests gently, urging the girl to leave from his crouched position beside the bed.

"But-"

"Hey Princess, listen to your dad alright, I'll come to find you later, okay? Go spar with Eskel." Julian interrupts before a father-daughter argument can erupt. He sees as Geralt visibly deflates beside them an audible sigh escaping him, relief flooding his pinched features, some of the tension in his frame easing. Julian tucks a long strand of soft silver hair behind the girl's ear before shooing her off the bed with a gentle smile. She skips from the room, bidding the four Witchers a bubbly farewell, sparing Julian a worried glance, the young Witcher flashed her a reassuring smile in return before she leaves.

"Thank you," Geralt murmurs quietly as he moves to perch himself beside Julian on the bed. Julian nods, quickly raking his eyes over Geralt's form, the man's shoulders are still stiff with an uncomfortable amount of tension, and his vibrant eyes flooded with concern.

"Well I take it this isn't a social call," Julian snarks, inviting the two Wolves to sit on the end of the bed by his feet. Vesemir settles against the mattress with familiarity, effortlessly comfortable in the Cats presence. In contrast, Lambert anxiously perches on the edge, his eyes flicking nervously around the room. Geralt briefly tenses at his side, his concern filled eyes peering carefully down at Julian. The Cat can feel frustration bubbling up through his aching body as the Wolves gingerly dance around the situation as if he were a frightened animal. A low growl rumbles from his chest, his ribs protesting as the vibrations of the menacing growl, painfully rip through his chest. "Spit it out," Julian snarls his patience for the Wolves trepidation wearing thin. "And for Melitele's sake Lambert, would you calm down." Julian snaps, the wolf's nervous behaviour setting him on edge.

"Julek, please calm down. You are only going to injure yourself further," Vesemir reprimands him. "We need to know what happened, Geralt refuses to tell us anything." Vesemir settles Geralt with a disapproving look, his words dripping with barely concealed anger as he addresses the White Wolf.

"I've already told you Vesemir; it is not my story to share,'' Geralt growls, his golden iris' burning as he meets Vesemir's disapproving gaze with a fiery glare. Lambert looks nervously between the two Wolves before flicking his eyes over to Julian, their eyes meeting for the first time since the two wolves arrived. The man's eyes silently pleading the Cat to ease the tension that had been brewing between them, since Geralt carried his limp, beaten body across the keep’s threshold.

Julian sits up straighter, back pressing closer to the rough wall behind him, the coarse stone biting into the soft flesh of his exposed back, the bed’s old wooden boards groaning beneath his shifting weight. He wraps a shaky hand around Geralt's wrist, the barely-there touch easily gaining Geralt's attention. As Geralt's eyes meet his, the anger burning in his iris' quickly dissipates, consumed instead with an uneasiness, a worry for Julian's injured form.

"Enough, Geralt," Julian commands, the man's body wrought with tension beneath his hand. "Geralt is right; it is not his story to tell it is mine." Julian states coldly giving Geralt a warm smile before turning to the other two Witchers.

Vesemir sighs deeply before tapping Geralt's shoulder silently urging the wolf to move. Julian's heart thuds beneath his ribcage, his pulse rocketing as Vesemir takes Geralt's space beside him. The eldest Witcher reaches into his medicine bag, pulling out an assortment of potions as well as bandages, the sight of the various medical items only furthering Julian's internal panic. His panicked blue eyes flick up to meet Geralts; the older Witcher stands inches from his previously vacated seat hesitant to move further from the injured Cat.

Vesemir's hands hover centimetres from the bare flesh of his torso, bandages, cloths and potions lay on the bed next to him, Julian's pulse racing faster the closer the Witcher's fingertips get to touching his torn and bruised flesh. "Don't" Julian snaps, his Cat reflexes allowing him to clutch onto the older Witcher's wrist before his hands could touch the sensitive skin. "Please, don't touch me," Julian whines hysterically, his usual Witcher heartbeat increased to an alarming pace as he screws his eyes shut, his hands tightening instinctively around Vesemir's wrists until his knuckles are white.

Julian can hear Geralt's deep rumbling voice through his panic muddled thoughts, the sound having a calming effect on the young Witchers mind. He allowed Geralt's voice to ground him, slowly he uncurls his fingers, Vesemir's wrists slipping free from their hold. "Julian?" the Cat slowly unscrews his eyes, unshed tears line his reddened waterline, his blue eyes shining brighter behind the wetness. Julian flashes the wolf an unsteady smile as he blinks back the moisture in his eyes.

"Julek, your wounds need tending to, you can not do it yourself," Vesemir states, every bit the father figure Julian remembers from his youth. The eldest Witcher bites back a small smile as he takes in Geralt's unusual gentleness in the young Cat's presence.

Julian's posture stiffens, he winces as he straightens, his head held high as readies himself, his muscles aching, fresh trickles of blood dribbling from the slowly healing wounds and broken bones groaning in protest with every movement.

"Geralt,'' The older Witchers eyes snap to Julian's pleading ones, Geralt's mouth drops open into a surprised exhale, the wolf had been expecting the quick-witted Cat to offer a rebuttal.

Geralt replaces Vesemir at Julian's side, throwing a furtive glance at the messy pile of bandages resting next to his thigh. "Are you sure? I'm not-" Geralt pauses his forehead furrowing deeply as he struggles to find the right word.

"Gentle?" Julian quips with a soft, teasing smile, Lambert reannounces his presence with an amused snort, he slaps a hand over his mouth, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he looks between the two Witchers.

"I think we best leave, Lambert," Vesemir chuckles, gesturing for the younger wolf to lead them out. Lambert looks between Julian and the doorway with a pinched expression, his fists clenching and unclenching as they dangle by his side.

"Julian, could we speak, later or tomorrow, or whenever you're well enough?" Lambert rambles before cutting himself off, he reaches behind himself, cupping the nape of his neck as he gives Julian a sheepish smile, a bright flush blanketing his cheeks.

"Sure love," Julian agrees with a sultry purr, his lips pulled up into a flirty smile, the youngest wolf sputters flustered over the flirtation, his mouth gaping unattractively as he stares at Julian. Vesemir shakes his head fondly, his eyes shining with barely concealed mirth as he ushers the youngest Witcher from the room.

"Damn flirtatious Cats, I hate Cats," Lambert grumbles as he leaves, his words no longer holding any malice as they are spoken. Julian chuckles quietly as he turns to look at Geralt where he finds the older Witcher's intense gaze locked on him, warmth rises in his face as a delicate pink flush colours his pale cheeks.

The rickety bed groans beneath the weight of the two Witchers as Geralt's muscular form shifts closer to Julian, the Cat takes a steadying breath as the older Witchers proximity threatens the steady beat of his heart.

"Julian, I need to know you're sure" Julian can see the hesitation in Geralt's eyes, his large frame wrought with tension as his hand's fiddle with the assortment of bandages beside him in an uncharacteristic show of nervousness.

"I'm sure Geralt,'' Julian whispers, his gentle voice breaking the tense silence lingering between them. Julian covers one of Geralt's large hands with his own smaller one, the warmth from the man's hand soaking into the soft flesh of Julian's palm. Geralt's eyes search his for any hint of uncertainty, not seeing any the older Witcher begins sorting through the items with sure hands.

Geralt carefully inspects the damage inflicted across Julian's torso, his eyes flit from each injury in quick succession, his forehead pinched in concentration as he assesses the full extent of the damage. Julian holds his breath under the Witchers' intense, scanning eyes, his fingertips twitching at his side as he fights the urge to smooth the displeased furrow slowly forming between the older man's eyebrows.

Julian begins to twitch nervously, the silence grating on his fraying nerves, Geralt's assessing gaze trailing over his naked torso only adding to his unease. Geralt carefully watches for every flinch as the Cat twitches, his enhanced hearing attuned to every pained groan or sigh. "Can we get started?" Julian croaks, his voice shaky as it passes his lips, he sucks in a deep, steadying breath as he attempts to regain his composure, knowing that in mere moments he was going to feel Geralt's hands on his bare flesh, threatening to break his tenuous equilibrium.

"You need to lay down," Geralt croaks, a subtle flush colouring his cheeks as he speaks. Julian chuckles quietly over the Witchers flustered state, his own cheeks colouring in response. He slowly eases himself down, wincing as the movement exacerbates his already substantial amount of pain. Once he is lying comfortably on his back, he turns to face Geralt, finding the wolf's eyes trained on his lips, where he is once again clutching his bottom lip between sharp teeth. His eyes widen in surprise as the rough pad of Geralt's thumb gently tugs Julian's bottom lip from between his teeth. "Don't do that," Geralt instructs gently before wiping the droplets of blood that gathered on the surface of his split lip.

Geralt looks nervously between his lap, the supplies and Julian's waist.

"What?" Julian asks, confused over the Witcher's hesitation. Geralt had arranged the supplies, everything was ready for him to treat Julian's wounds, yet the man sat unmoving beside Julian.

"I need to - Can I just" Geralt cuts himself off with a frustrated huff, before pushing himself up onto his knees, the weathered boards groaning in protest as he gently throws one of his long legs over Julian's waist. He hovers above the Cat unsure, searching Julians face before slowly lowering himself to perch gently over the man's waist, careful not to aggravate his injuries.

Geralt wobbles slightly as he rights himself above Julian, the Cat's hands instinctively shooting up to grip Geralt's hips while he positions himself over the Cat. His muscular thighs bracketed Julian's delicate waist as he hovers above the man, Julian's fingertips itch to slide beneath the material of Geralt tunic and graze against the soft flesh of the older man's hips.

Julian lays pliant beneath Geralt as the man's rough fingertips trail gently over his injured torso, a breathy moan escapes him as Geralt's warm fingertips trail across the sensitive flesh above his waistband, brushing across the skin of his hips in their gentle exploration.

"Geralt," Julian chokes out, into the charged air between them.

"Sorry," Geralt apologises, Julian bites back a petulant whine as Geralt's hands leave his stomach to grab the salve laying beside them. Geralt scoops the ointment onto his fingers before rubbing the soothing cream into his bruises with feather-light touches.

"Who was he?" Geralt asks, suddenly breaking the comfortable silence settling between them. Julian tenses beneath his hands, his heart thumping heavily in his chest as he looks up to meet Geralt's questioning gaze.

"Valdo was my mentor," Julian bites out, refusing to elaborate further. Geralt sighs unhappily but doesn't push, his usually warm golden eyes burning with a rage Julian knows isn't aimed at him. Geralt wraps the already healing wounds littering Julian's stomach with a well-practised ease, before leaning back heavily onto his knees, inspecting the bared flesh to ensure he hadn't missed any bruises or cuts.

"I won't push you Julian, but you need to talk to someone," Geralt states, he carefully brushes a stray strand of Julian's dark hair from his face, tucking it gently behind his ear before gracefully pulling himself from Julian's lap and retreating to the other side of the bed. "I should go," Geralt whispers stiltedly, as he busies himself with the task of putting the medical supplies away.

"What? Geralt what just happened?" Julian sits up quickly, his hand darting out to still the older Witchers hands where they're fussing with the unused bandages. "Geralt.'' Julian demands his voice hard despite the fact his lips quiver with pain from his sudden movements. Geralt's eyes meet his, any softness replaced with a steely resolve as the man pulls his hand from under Julians, before bolting from the room, leaving Julian with his mouth hanging open in disbelief and a mess of supplies sprawled next to him.

"What the hell!" Julian shouts at the man's retreating from before falling back onto the bed and staring at the dull stone ceiling as he futilely tries to figure out the reason for the sudden shift in Geralt's behaviour.

#geraskier fanfiction #geraskier #witcher jaskier #the Witcher

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