#tree eskel

[toss-a-coin-to-your-stan-account]

y'know what actually pisses me off every time some shitty adaptation drops??? it's when fans of the original are rightfully disappointed and make valid criticisms of ways the adaptation betrayed the themes of the source material and snobby assholes who've turned their brain off for the day brush them off like "erm... its an ADAPTATION ofc things are gonna be different 🙄 its not gonna be a one-to-one adaptation you just hate changes"

like... no. thats not true. at all.

im fine with (and often DELIGHTED by) changes that actually add something enjoyable to the story and/or expand on the original themes. it's when the adaptation makes "changes" that completely spit on the source material and contradict its message that people get pissed off. its not that we hate changes. we just hate dumb ones

but im sure the ppl whose favorite response to criticism is to go "ugh its an ADAPTATION get over it 🙄" without actually thinking about it don't care to understand that

(This is not about racist pissbabies who throw tantrums about some disney princess not being white BTW yall can get fucked)

[tooboredtothinkofaname]

The one time Geralt got killed by bees because he got stuck in a tree...

[dragonsandwolvesohmy]

So... anyone know a fic featuring a Medallion tree where it's explained to Jaskier what it is and what it means???

[saprosappho]

forgot how egregiously they fucked up basically all of the witcher s2 but especially like. all of kaer morhen. for no reason whatsoever

[well-of-loneliness]

Throwback to 2020 when this was a Witcher blog anyway met the owl yesterday who apparently played Phillipa

[thedemonofcat]

I’ve seen soulmate fics where being rejected by your soulmate makes you very sick.

And that is really unfair. I think the reverse should be true.

Geralt gets sicker and sicker after the mountain. Only his soulmate returning to him will cure him. Geralt doesn’t want to be controlled by destiny, so he stubbornly refuses to find them.

Eskel or someone begs Jaskier to save Geralt. Even though he’s hurt, the bard makes the journey to Kaer Morhen.

He finds Geralt barely breathing. He leans down and kisses the Witcher’s forehead, whispering that he forgave him.

Once he sees that Geralt is breathing easier, Jaskier leaves before the witcher can wake up.

After all, Geralt would surely send him away again. It would be rather silly for them to go through all of this trouble only to have to immediately repeat the experience.

"Jaskier!" Geralt shouted through the trees. The wind was picking up, a storm looming on the horizon. "Jaskier, where are you?" he called again, his voice rough with frustration and worry.

Jaskier—his beautiful, infuriating, perfect soulmate—was out here somewhere, lost in the mountains and forests surrounding Kaer Morhen. And all because Geralt had been too much of a fool to say something sooner.

After what felt like hours of yelling, a faint voice finally reached him.

"Over here, Geralt."

The bard’s voice was smaller than usual, almost meek. Geralt followed the sound and found him sitting against a tree, clutching his ankle. Even in the dim light, he could see the swelling.

"The snow covered the root—I didn't see it," Jaskier murmured, wincing. "I think my leg is broken."

"Let me see," Geralt said, kneeling. Jaskier hesitated before finally letting him touch his leg.

"Good news," Geralt said after a moment, his tone lighter. "It’s not broken. Just a bad sprain. There are plenty of beds at Kaer Morhen where you can rest." He reached to lift Jaskier, only for the bard to shove him away.

"I'm not going back," Jaskier snapped.

"You’ll freeze to death out here," Geralt argued.

"Better than having my heart broken over and over again when you get bored of me," Jaskier shot back, his voice shaking.

Geralt froze. Then, softer this time, he said, "I love you. I'm not going to break your heart." A pause. "Not ever again."

Jaskier turned away. "You love the idea of having a soulmate," he whispered. "You don’t even know me."

What he didn’t see was Geralt moving his fingers.

"Sleep," Geralt murmured, using Axii to lull him into unconsciousness.

As Jaskier’s body went slack, Geralt scooped him up with a sigh, holding him close against the cold.

"I’ll love you," he murmured, pressing his forehead to Jaskier’s temple. "Or any version of you. As long as you’re not frozen."

[scrambleddragonegg]

cat! jaskier who was at the witcher tournament but got cursed human by a mage and finally makes it to kaer morhen only for vesemir to recognize him (he was hiding with geralt so when guxart and vesemir got out of jail he met the old wolf) and be so pleased that one of guxart’s kits are still alive (other than aiden) and jaskier just melts into a puddle right there and then because finally someone recognized him again since even his own brothers and sisters didn’t (they would have, he was scared)

vesemir: you’ve grown quite a bit since the tournament, kit

jaskier: *unintelligible whining*

geralt: *confused pikachu face*

geralt: wait JULIAN?

jaskier: it’s almost like i introduced myself that way???

lambert: so we’ve all got cats except for eskel, huh?

vesemir: *grumbles*

eskel: AND I’M OKAY WITH THAT I’VE HEART THE STORIES

aiden: you’re alive??? YOU BASTARD?!

jaskier: *jazz hands while he dodges throwing knives*

ciri: wait so you’re a witcher?!

jaskier: i mean… not really anymore?

vesemir: yes, he’s a witcher. he’s always been like this, so i’m not surprised he ended up a bard too

ciri: both my dads are witchers?!?!

geralt: *spits out his drink*

jaskier: cirilla, i’m not—

ciri: tell me you’re not my dad, i DARE you

jaskier: you’re worse than aiden how is this possible

aiden: so i hear i’m your brother now!

ciri: *accepting that she made the family tree wonky by forcibly adopting jaskier* but you’re also my uncle since you and lambert are together

jaskier: wait then is lambert my son-in-law AND my brother-in-law?

yenn: that was the case before ciri made you her other father, but yes

ciri: *about to drop the biggest bomb on them* thanks for agreeing, mom!

yenn:

jaskier:

geralt:

jaskier: well, you were my wife before geralt was my partner

yenn: that’s a lie and you know it

jaskier: he barely tolerated me and you know it

yenn: he loved you before the djinn he’s just an idiot!

geralt: *watching them bicker* why???

ciri: i learned to cause chaos from my brother-in-law!

vesemir: you were raised by calanthe, this has been in you the entire time

ciri: but i didn’t think grandfathers were supposed to tell ALL of my secrets!

vesemir: *nearly tearing up* after raising this lot you have none, child

[bumblesimagines]

The Pup and The Cub

Request: Yes or No

Summary: While (Y/N) is eager to spend time with and help an old friend, he can't stand to be around his adoptive daughter. Until one night changes things.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

CW/TW: Typical Witcher warnings, sexual content, added a little bit of ✨spice✨, mentions of blood, accidental blood kink?? OOPS, virginity loss on both sides

I would've finished days ago if the universe hadn't decided to say fuck you each time I tried working on it

~~~

Summer was at its peak and (Y/N) wished for nothing more than to lay in the soft grass like a snake eager to bask in the sun rays peering down at them from the vibrant and cloudless sky. The baby blue of daytime was fading into a familiar shade of orange that reminded him of flames, mixing and swirling with a soft pink as the blazing sun slowly descended behind the trees.

His nose tickled when he inhaled the fresh air, and the comforting floral scents wafting from the wildflowers scattered around the expanding fields surrounding them reached him. Their vibrant colors splashed against the green sea and he watched them dance with the gentle breezes that blew by, a sense of serenity settling on his chest.

It felt nice to take a break, he admitted to himself. His childhood and early teen years were spent cooped up in Kaer Morhen with Vesemir, and while the mountain blossomed with life during spring and summer, it was nothing compared to the beauty around him now. He felt as if he could sit and stare out into the wilderness for hours without the startling howling winds of the mountain or Vesemir's grumbling.

His father had been reluctant to let him go so far from Kaer Morhen, but Geralt needed him now more than ever, even if it meant dealing with his adoptive daughter, the vexing Cub of Cintra. 

In all his years, (Y/N) had only ever seen Geralt smile and laugh so freely with his brethren, with his real family. Those rumbling laughs where he'd tilt his head back and find a fleeting moment of relaxation untypical of the usually guarded witcher were reserved for them, not for the girl.

Ciri was only around because of one stupid mistake Geralt had made years prior: taunting destiny and facing the consequences in the form of a spoilt little royal. He found victory in the knowledge Geralt had pointedly ignored her existence until she needed his protection.

He remembered the cold winter day he met her when he strode into Kaer Morhen with Eskel, eager to escape the chilling winds and reunite with his family, only to take note of the figure bundled up in furs giggling into her cup like the little girl she was (yes, (Y/N) only had two years on her, but that hardly mattered in his opinion) and flaunting her title of princess before them when questioned. Chin tilted up and brow arched challengingly, she made his skin prickle.

"Who brought the girl up here?" He'd asked in disbelief. It was against their code to reveal the secret location of the keep to anyone other than their brethren, so he naturally looked toward Lambert and Coen for an explanation, assuming it was all another prank from them that Vesemir was begrudgingly ignoring for the sake of their long-awaited reunion.

Instead, she answered, lips almost pulled into a scowl and speaking words that had him turning toward Geralt with furrowed brows. "The girl is Princess Cirilla of Cintra. And I'm with Geralt."

(Y/N) scoffed just thinking about it. 

Yennefer, he could tolerate. Geralt loved her, that much he knew well, and he knew how much it ate at the older witcher with her betrayal still aching like a wound refusing to heal. She'd groveled for days and weeks, practically begging for his forgiveness in different ways, begging him to speak at least one word that wasn't related to their next destination, but Geralt was a notoriously stubborn man.

He was strong, stronger than (Y/N), at least. He wasn't sure how long he'd last if he were on the receiving end of her pretty violet eyes and velvety words.

Yennefer was humorous, too, with her snark and sharp wit that often left him grinning from ear to ear and Geralt quietly scoffing as if nobody saw the brief smirk that always flashed over his rough features before he remembered he was supposed to be mad at her. She was a spitfire with a kind heart, effortlessly dancing between aloofness and warmth. He gave it another week before Geralt's resolve vanished.

With Geralt and Yennefer watching over Ciri as if she were a precious little jewel and not a princess who by all means should've died when her kingdom had been sacked and lit ablaze by Nilfgaard, it was up to (Y/N) to watch their backs for them. And Ciri, too, he supposed. He'd still happily watch her slip off her horse and faceplant into the dirt, though. Hell, it'd probably make his day brighter.

Death followed her like a plague, she'd said so herself. It was better to keep his distance than risk being one of the many casualties left in her wake. Besides, he'd never forget how close she'd managed to get to killing both him and Vesemir while possessed by Voleth Meir.. nor the lives taken that day.

The sound of laughter drew his attention away from the scenery before him, his eyes immediately locking on Ciri and Geralt as they shared laughter, smiles, and words forgotten in the breeze. They were supposed to be feeding Roach and Desert to ensure the horses were ready in case they had to make a last-minute escape. (Y/N) huffed. She was such a distraction.

It irked him just how much she looked like Geralt too, how easily she could pass as his, and he despised all of it: from her ashen-gray hair verging on nearly being a pale blonde, her green eyes that sparkled like emeralds when the light directly hit them, her pale skin that easily flushed red when she grew embarrassed or frustrated to the way she bristled like an enraged kitten and never allowed herself to back down from his comments.

His stomach twisted just staring at her scrawny figure. Witchers weren't supposed to meddle in human business nor their stupid politics. It was part of their code to remain neutral, to remain free from the clutches of politics, and to avoid falling into loyalties with ruling governments. Geralt rarely, if ever, broke their code willingly, and now he did it without thinking twice for a measly human.

She was going to get him killed. She was going to get all of them killed. And for what? A kingdom that no longer belonged to her family?

"You could've saved yourself a lot of trouble by not coming." Yennefer's voice rang clear behind him and she entered his peripheral, her raven locks clashing with the greenery around them and naturally demanding attention. Everything about her demanded attention; that was simply the way of a mage like her. Deadly beautiful and with a bite stronger than her bark. "I've seen you pout more times than I've heard you speak."

(Y/N) felt his skin warm. "You know better than anyone how obnoxious nobles are. They love prancing around enacting their power over others. They're ungrateful and-"

"Ciri is but a girl and you are but a boy. You have both lived vastly different lives and been raised by vastly different people." Her brows lifted in a manner that reminded him of Vesemir, and he felt a lesson inbound. She placed her hand over his shoulder and brushed her fingernails over his cheek delicately, tittering on affectionately. "Ciri is a princess, yes, but she's not ungrateful, and you know it. She believes you are cruel and a bully, but I know you're more sensitive than you let on. Perhaps you will find more in common if you give her a chance."

"Unlikely." 

"Don't be so sure." Yennefer squeezed him lightly, the hint of a smile on her face. "Come inside, supper is ready."

Despite the fact they were on the run, the past couple of weeks had been the best (Y/N) had ever eaten. He often settled for simple meals he could create from things he bought at the market or meat he caught cooked over a fire, but the food they ate now was made with much gentler care. Mixed with herbs and spices, he practically inhaled the rabbit stew, savoring it and listening to the idle chatter between Geralt and Ciri. 

He thought about Vesemir and how he was doing. If he was well after the chaos that'd erupted in Kaer Morhen, after losing half the men he helped raise from boys and parting ways with the child he took in as a babe. They'd parted ways plenty of times before; it was simply how the life of a witcher went. But this time felt different, and they'd both sensed it in the air, as if something big was on its way.

"Well," Yennefer exhaled, dabbing her lips with a napkin and rising from the table. "I believe we should check the perimeters, ensure nothing is amiss."

Geralt grunted. "(Y/N)-"

"I will go with you, Geralt." Yennefer interrupted swiftly and his golden eyes cut to her, narrowing with confusion and then squinting with suspicion. She stared at him, seemingly communicating whatever was going on in her head with her eyes alone and leaving (Y/N) and Ciri to try and decipher what was going on.

Geralt took in a deep breath and stood up, his hand curling around the sheath of his sword. "Fine." He nodded, his silver strands bouncing off his cheeks where he'd begun growing stubble. His eyes darted to (Y/N) and the intensity in them softened, the corner of his lip lifting. "Be good to Ciri, Pup."

(Y/N) recalled a time he watched a mother usher her child to another boy, quietly insisting that the two needed to get along before she plastered on a smile and claimed it'd been her son's idea to share his toys despite the clear reluctance on his face. He concluded Yennefer was the mother, him the son, and Ciri the other child completely oblivious to the plan in action. (Y/N) would rather choke than play along.

Ciri lingered near the window, peering out of it as if she'd be able to see anything through the pitch darkness enveloping the cottage. The moon remained hidden by the towering trees, and he doubted the two wouldn't be back before it reached the top of the sky. They'd never leave Ciri for that long, no matter how much they trusted him to take care of her.

"Do you think they're going to make up?" She asked, her fingers busying themselves with undoing her braid.

The tableware clattered when he propped his feet up. "I don't know."

Surely she could hear the irritation in his voice, his lack of interest in speaking with her. He liked pretending as if she were just another noble with a head full of air, but he'd seen the different ways her brain worked, how quickly she managed to adapt to her surroundings. 

She suckled her bottom lip into her mouth and dug her teeth into it. Was she nervous? He couldn't really tell, even if she almost constantly wore her emotions on her sleeve for the world to see. Her eyes always spoke before her mouth did.

"It's about time they do, don't you think?" She raked her hand through her hair and undid the small knots that'd formed before pushing her hair over her shoulder to rest along her back.

"I don't know." 

Ciri scowled. "Do you have anything else to say other than 'I don't know'?"

He smirked and her eyes narrowed. "I don't know."

She made a noise in the back of her throat akin to a low, irritated groan and finally peeled herself away from the window to collect the plates on the table, taking them to the sink where she gave the sleeves of her tunic a hard tug and began scrubbing the plates. If she scrubbed them any harder, they'd probably crack and break into pieces.

He chuckled under his breath at her annoyance and reached down to his hips, unclasping his holster and setting it over the table before freeing his dagger from its sheath and inspecting the blade. His fingers ran along the cool metal, eyes tracking the distorted reflection staring back at him. He swore his eyes glimmered a different color and felt his chest tighten. 

The loud sound of clattering brought his gaze upward at Ciri, catching her bracing herself against the counter while her wet hand rubbed against her pantleg hard enough to leave a streak of pink that slowly faded. "Why do you hate me so much?" She asked, voice nearing a frustrated hiss. "What have I done to you?" 

"Exist, for starters." (Y/N) muttered immediately, uncaringly, his attention returning to the dagger as he pressed his thumb into the chestnut brown hilt. "You strolled into Kaer Morhen, my home, and proceeded to paint the fucking floors with the blood of my brothers. You damn near painted it with my blood, too, and my father's."

The frustration on her face faded and her nostrils flared with a deep inhale. The guilt was heavy in her eyes, her fingers curling and uncurling to hide the way they trembled. "I-I didn't-" Her voice cracked and she looked away, her lips pressing tightly together. "I didn't want to. I-I didn't even realize what I was doing. You know that. She had me trapped in a dream. I would have never done that-"

"But you did.. and half the men who helped raise me are dead, Princess." (Y/N) tossed his dagger aside and dragged his feet off the table, planting themselves on the floor with thumps. His arms moved to rest over his thighs, fingers lacing together as his mind conjured up the most venomous thing he could think of.

Years of harassment from ungrateful humans taught him plenty of where to aim where it truly hurt.

"If one can still call you that. To be a princess you need lands, a castle, a royal family. All those things turned to ashes while you were busy running from your kingdom like a coward."

A spark ignited in the green of her eyes and she darted forward with quick steps, snatching the dagger from the table and squeezing the hilt so hard her knuckles turned white. She pointed the blade at him, her jaw clenching and eyes bright with threat yet her hand trembled ever so slightly.

"Fuck you." She spat, inching the blade closer until it almost poked at his forehead. "Didn't your mother turn to ashes? I know that's what happens to bru-"

Ciri barely had the chance to gasp before he grabbed her wrists and shot up from his chair, the force causing it to topple backward onto the floor with a hard thud. He backed her up into the nearest wall, slamming her wrists into it and forcing her to drop the dagger at their feet with a wince. She blinked at him, soft breaths escaping her parted lips that he felt against his skin. He could see the different shades of green in her eyes more clearly, see the way her eyes flickered around different parts of his face.

"You're a real piece of work, Cirilla." 

He released her wrists and leaned back, forcing himself to take a deep breath to calm the rapid beating of his heart. His eyes were drawn to the red around the skin of her wrists from his tightened hold and grimaced, a begrudged apology forming on his tongue because his job was to protect not hurt, but before he could get a single word out, Ciri lunged forward. 

His nerves flared immediately with alert, only for his instincts to protect himself to short circuit when- instead of being shoved or slapped or even punched for touching her so roughly- he felt soft clumsy lips placed over his.

One of Ciri's arms curled around his shoulders as her chest pressed against his, holding onto him as he staggered backward from surprise. His hands grabbed onto her hips, his mind torn between the tantalizing urge to kiss her back and the possibility of Geralt walking in and seeing the sight of the girl he considered his daughter kissing someone. 

He pressed his forehead against hers to break the kiss and sucked in a breath of air. "Ciri-"

"I don't care." She panted softly. "I've been thinking about this for weeks."

The revelation flicked something in him, something in his chest. The heated emotion that always spread through his body whenever he lied eyes on her, the constant need to poke at her until she diverted her attention to him with a scowl, the willingness to put himself between her and danger; he assumed it was complicated hate, his need to protect and his dislike for her constantly battling. Had it been something else? Something so foreign to him he'd mistaken it for loathing?

He watched the desperation swirl in her eyes before he squeezed his shut and pressed his lips against hers, swallowing the shaky exhale she released and darting his tongue past her parted lips. She shivered and wriggled in his grasp, her lack of experience surging in how intensely she reacted to him just grazing his hands over her thighs before he heaved her up fully into his arms. Her legs encircled his waist and the bottom of her boots pressed into the heels, pushing until they fell from her feet. 

Twisting around toward the table, he set her down on it and crept his up toward her sleeveless leather vest where he worked on untying the laces until it grew loose enough to discard onto the floor. Her white tunic sagged without the vest and he slipped his hand underneath it, palms roaming over the smooth skin of her abdomen and hips free of any scars unlike his. Her breath quickened when his hand moved higher, and her hold on his tightened when he delicately ran his fingers over her breast.

(Y/N) pulled away, leaving butterfly kisses over her cheek and down to the side of her throat. She drew him in closer and dipped her own hands underneath his tunic to feel along the muscle and scars he'd obtained throughout the years, whispering soft pleas for more into his ear, but his mind focused on the warmth of her skin.

If he listened hard enough he could hear the blood flowing through her veins, the rapid beat of her heart dancing in her chest. His tongue darted out to lick a long line along her skin and she tilted her head to the side, exposing more of her neck. 

An alarm blared in his head; his witcher upbringing clashing with the animalistic instinct embedded in his genes in a turbulent fight. Vesemir's voice echoed in his head and urged him to stop, to put an end to the heated moment before it could become gruesome and deadly for them both. He was always so careful but Ciri was such a distraction. If only Vesemir could see him, speak to him.

Vesemir was roughly shoved out of his head in favor of hooking his fingers into the belt buckles of Ciri's worn pants and tugging down roughly enough to drag them to her thighs without unbuttoning them. Her hands were clumsy as she pushed on them, legs kicking wildly until they slumped down onto the floor to be forgotten with the rest of the mess they left in their wake.

He hugged her close to his body and lifted her into his arms again, letting his feet lead him to the room he typically shared with Geralt so the girls could sleep separately from them. 

She slipped from his arms and onto the bed, a laugh knocking out of her chest when she collided with the mattress. She curled her fingers around the hem of her tunic and tugged it downward as she pressed her thighs together, the flush on her face burning harder under his eyes and spreading when he took his own clothes off. 

His arms curled around her thighs and she gave a light squeak when he pulled her closer to the edge of the bed, her eyes widening as his knees met the floorboard and his hands pried open her legs. His face buried in the mound and a long curse dragged out of her throat in response, her hips threatening to buck and quiver as he began lapping at her like a starved dog, the bridge of his nose occasionally brushing against half-curled hairs the same color as the hair on her head.

He hardly knew what he was doing; he'd never had the same urges as his fellow brothers, his mind focused on the monsters over the brothels whenever he visited towns. But, he'd heard plenty of tales and recountings told over food by drunken men (some likely more fabricated than the rest) to have some idea of what he was supposed to be doing, even though he barely paid any mind to precision and focus. He licked and suckled until her quivering thighs caged around his head.

"(Y/N)!" Ciri abruptly cried out, her ankles digging into his back and pushing his face further against her as she flooded his mouth with her juices. 

"That was fast." He exhaled, the fleeting humanity managing to grasp onto the reins for a moment, and he wiped at his mouth and chin with his forearm. He dragged his arms from her thighs and traced the lingering imprints before carefully rising from the floor to hover over her and study her features. 

Her chest heaved with deep inhales and exhales, her parted lips red and nearly raw from their kissing. He thumbed at the trickle of drool threatening to slide down her cheek and felt her lean into his touch, her trembling hands slowly dragging over his arms and shoulders and tugging him down. She pressed her cheek against his, almost nuzzling into him, and wrapped her legs around his waist. 

There was a line in front of him, one he could cross and face multiple different consequences: they could risk the chance of Geralt's reaction, whether it was disapproving or angered, or risk the chance of a secret being exposed through an accidental pregnancy.

He was no true witcher. Unlike his brothers who lost their fertility upon becoming mutants, he had the chance of knocking someone up, a fact Vesemir consistently reminded him of. He was already a hybrid, a creature made up of the blood of human and monster. Could he inflict that on someone else?

But when she tightened her legs around him and purposefully grinded against him, he decided to cross the line regardless. 

Ciri's gummy walls resisted the intrusion, and he still had enough clarity to remind himself she was still considered a princess, one who still had the chance of marrying some prickly noble who'd expect his bride to be a virgin pure. "Ciri, are you-" 

"Yes." She whined with a tremble, sounding out of breath.

He pushed forward and nearly pressed his full weight down on her when the faint yet familiar scent of blood reached his nose. In most circumstances, it hardly ever phased him, but he usually never allowed the untamed monster side of him to rear its head for longer than a few seconds.

He pressed his face into the sheets and held on tighter to her, his mind escaping him and returning to the chilly mountain Kaer Morhen resided upon until the ringing in his ears ceased and he could move without Ciri wincing. 

Part of him desired nothing more than to give in to the creature he kept buried but this was Ciri and he knew better than risking potentially hurting her. He dragged out of her slowly enough for her to whine, only to plunge back in with enough force to knock the wind out of her lungs.

The room quickly filled with the smell of sweat and sex and the subtle hint of blood that still urged him to fall into a state of delirium, choked words and moans filling his ears and keeping him grounded enough to keep his wits. 

Ciri's nails raked down his back feverishly, clawing at him as if she were trying to cut him open. The long marks healed seconds after they were made, something Ciri barely noticed in her hazy state of pleasure.

His lips pressed into her collarbone and they parted with the overwhelming urge to bite, but he had half a mind to tilt his head to the side and dig the sharp row of teeth that'd grown into his bicep instead. Blood immediately spilled into his mouth, not the blood he wanted but good enough to sedate the urges. 

Almost instantaneously, his hips stuttered and his body threatened to give out on him, his high crashing into him like a tidal wave. His hips continued to move, thrusting into Ciri until she cried out again, practically milking every last drop of his release with her squeezing around him like a vice. She panted into his ear, sounding as if she'd just ran miles upon miles, before her palms slapped against his shoulders and shoved him upward. 

"You're bleeding- did you bite yourself?" She blinked wildly at him, eyes darting back and forth between the blood coating his lips and the blood smeared across his bicep.

The row of punctures wounds had healed the moment he'd taken his teeth out of the muscle but the sight still looked like he'd taken a chunk out of himself. Droplets of blood ran down his forearm, dripping onto the bed and turning frizzy strands of her hair into a crimson color.

"It was either you-" He gulped down a breath of air and swiped his tongue over his lips. "-or me." 

Gently, Ciri ran her fingers over the blood on his face, her lips twisting into a frown. "I knew a bruxa once. She had a lover she fed on and- and they were fine for a while. Maybe if you-" 

The sound of the front door slamming shut startled them both, and they were hardly given enough time to process what that meant before Yennefer and Geralt appeared in the doorway, their panicked and concerned faces plunging through several differing emotions at the sight of them tangled up together. Geralt quickly turned his back on them and Yennefer released a long, somewhat amused sigh.

"This is not what I meant when I said you should give her a chance. Get dressed. We obviously need to have a chat."

[bookloover35]

A Witcher's Heart, Geralt Of Rivia x fem reader.

The cold wind swept through the trees of Kaer Morhen, the ancient keep of the witchers. Snow crunched beneath boots as you walked through the courtyard, your sword strapped to your back. You'd just returned from a grueling contract, your body sore but your mind restless. You couldn't stop thinking about Geralt.

He had been your companion through decades of monster slaying, an anchor in a world that often felt too harsh and cold. Like you, he bore the scars of mutations and battles. But unlike you, Geralt of Rivia seemed to carry a piece of something you never thought a witcher could have—a heart that still beat for others.

And for years, you'd wished it could beat for you.

You knew about Yennefer. Everyone did. The sorceress with raven hair and violet eyes, a beauty who had ensnared Geralt's heart long ago. Their on-again, off-again relationship was the stuff of bardic songs. You'd told yourself to let go of the hope that Geralt might ever look at you the way he looked at her.

But then there were moments.

Moments like when he'd sought your advice after a particularly brutal fight, his golden eyes meeting yours with something akin to trust and respect. Or when he'd patched up your wounds, his hands steady and gentle as he muttered something about being careful.

It was foolish, you told yourself as you entered the great hall of Kaer Morhen. You were a witcher. You weren't meant for love.

Geralt was seated near the hearth, sharpening his silver sword. The firelight cast a warm glow over his pale features, making the white of his hair shimmer. His golden eyes lifted to meet yours, and for a moment, the world seemed to pause.

"You're back," he said, his voice low and gravelly.

"Barely," you replied, offering a wry smile. "Werewolves are getting smarter."

He chuckled, the sound rare and fleeting. "You managed, though. You always do."

You took a seat across from him, removing your gloves and stretching out your hands toward the fire. "What about you? Any new scars to show off?"

He shook his head. "Quiet week. Lambert and Eskel handled the local contracts." His eyes lingered on you, as if searching for something. "You're hurt."

"Nothing that won't heal," you replied quickly, but he was already standing, pulling out a small vial of Swallow potion from his pouch.

"Let me see."

You sighed, but there was no arguing with him. You shrugged off your armor, revealing a deep gash on your shoulder. Geralt's brows furrowed, and his touch was careful as he cleaned the wound.

"You're too reckless," he muttered.

"You sound like Vesemir."

"Maybe he's right."

His hands lingered for a moment longer than necessary, and you dared to glance up at him. His golden eyes were softer than usual, filled with something you couldn't quite name.

"Geralt..." you began, but the words caught in your throat.

He looked at you then, really looked at you, and you saw a flicker of something raw and unguarded in his expression. For a moment, you allowed yourself to believe that he might feel the same way you did.

But then the moment passed.

Geralt pulled away, corking the potion and handing it to you. "Drink this. Rest. You'll need your strength."

You took the vial, swallowing the bitter liquid. "Thanks."

The silence between you was heavy as he returned to his seat, the fire crackling softly in the background. You wanted to say something, anything, but the words refused to come.

Finally, Geralt broke the silence. "You've always been there, you know."

You blinked. "What?"

"Through all of it. You've stayed."

"Of course I have," you said, your voice steadier than you felt. "We're witchers. We look out for each other."

"It's more than that," he said quietly, his gaze fixed on the flames. "You could have left. Found a different path. But you stayed."

Your heart ached at his words. You wanted to tell him the truth—that you stayed because of him, because you couldn't imagine a life without him.

But before you could respond, the sound of boots on stone echoed through the hall.

"Geralt."

You turned to see Yennefer standing in the doorway, her dark hair framing her striking features. Her violet eyes flicked between you and Geralt, a knowing look flashing across her face.

"Yen," Geralt said, standing. His voice held a note of surprise, but also something else—relief, perhaps.

Your chest tightened as you watched him move toward her. Yennefer smiled, her gaze softening as she placed a hand on his arm.

You stood, forcing a neutral expression onto your face. "I'll leave you two to catch up."

Geralt turned to you, hesitation in his eyes. "(Y/N)—"

"I'm fine," you said quickly, grabbing your gloves. "I need to rest anyway."

Without waiting for a response, you walked away, your heart heavy.

As you climbed the stairs to your room, you told yourself that you'd made it this far without Geralt's love. You could endure it a little longer.

But deep down, you knew the truth.

You'd fought monsters, survived countless battles, and endured the loneliness of being a witcher. But the one fight you couldn't win was against your own heart.

And that might just be your greatest defeat.

[letmelickyoureyeballs]

Witcher Fic Recs

Wanted to make a list of some of my favorite Witcher fics! Most of these are not Jaskier/Geralt, but I did add some, and they are just as good! A lot are also Explicit, and some need an AO3 account to access. Feel free to message me if you want your work taken off this list.

*I do not claim any of these fics as mine, and I give all the credit to the original authors*

"Bat Out of Water" by @tafkamayle One of if not my favorite Witcher fic! 65k words, Explicit, Jaskier/Geralt Jaskier/Eskel Jaskier/Lambert, Vampire and Pirate AU

"The Songbird of The Cats" by @ohwhoopsok I've read this one so many times I cannot recommend it enough! 28k words, Mature, Jaskier/OCs Jaskier/Aiden Jaskier/Lambert, Jaskier becomes the School of the Cats new obsession, little non-human Jaskier

"The Shape of Love" by @jaskierswolf 17k words, Teen and Up, Shifter AU, Geralt/Jaskier, there's a bunch of works in this series and they're all great!

"Fateful Red" by @tafkamayle again, 16k words, Explicit, Jaskier/Geralt, Soulmates and No Powers AU, I love this one so much!

"That's my Jam(bert)" by @greenbirddraws/GreenBird, 14k words, Explicit, Jaskier/Lambert, I love them together so much!

"So Tight I'd Bruise You" by @sweetpeapod 496 words, General Audience, Jaskier/Lambert, little hurt/comfort and soft Lambert

"Cat Up A Tree(Going Down on a Witcher)" by Hallianna, 10k words, Explicit, Aiden/Jaskier/Lambert, love this one a lot!

"Bring Your Hunger" by @sweetpeapod again, 2k words, Teen and Up, Jaskier/Lambert, teasing and fluff

"Take a Chance on Second Chances" by Caelanmiriel, 9k words, Explicit, Jaskier/Lambert, some courting rituals

"Fingertips" by @ohwhoopsok again, 3k words, Explicit, Jaskier/Lambert, Lambert can't get hard, some fluff, this one is super sweet!

"to the wolves" by @besselfcn 1k words, Mature, Jaskier/Lambert/Eskel/Geralt, Past SA, hurt/comfort, revenge, past Valdo/Jaskier

"I Just Want to Feel You" by @stfustucky 6k words, Explicit, Jaskier/Geralt/Lambert/Eskel, Geralt and Eskel fuck up some aftercare so Lambert has to make things right, super sweet one!

"Soap, and the Scents of Home" by @round--robin/round_robin 32k words, Explicit, Jaskier/Geralt/Eskel/Lambert, lots of touch-starved Witchers, Scent kink, an amazing series!

"5 Times Geralt was Cat-Like (+1 Time He Was Wolf-Like)" by @xrdragonix 2k, General Audience, Geralt/Jaskier, Wolf and Cat traits, super cute and wholesome!

If you enjoyed any of these please let the authors know with comments, kudos, and/or bookmarking it!

[toss-a-coin-to-your-stan-account]

BLOCKING s3 vol. 1 haters on sight i am. blocking you all ON FUCKING SIGHT!!! last season we had to deal with eskel being turned into a goddamn fucking tree and then wolf food and now with the MOST fun and MOST enjoyable and LEAST Actively Pissing On The Books season of twn since literally season one that came out before the FUCKING PANDEMIC you wanna HATE??? not having it NOT having it. we literally have the "jaskier being ciris fun uncle" content we craved post-s1 for three years and Geralt literally called him "jask" and you wanna be MEAN???? NOT on my feed no sir

[inexplicifics]

for the Cozy Prompts: number 4 for Eskel/Gaetan?? (sorry if i sent this twice i am sleepy)

Gaetan pauses, sniffing the air. He’s out in the middle of fuckoff nowhere - the smell of smoke does not belong on the wind. It doesn’t smell like a forest fire, though. It smells like a hearth fire, with something savory cooking over it.

There shouldn’t be anyone out here to cook anything, and Gaetan is as curious as his School’s namesake, so of course he turns his steps towards the smell. It grows stronger as he approaches - that’s definitely venison stew, well-spiced and meaty, and Gaetan’s mouth is watering. He scrambles up a tree and ventures closer, wary and hungry.

There’s a lean-to tucked away in a tiny clearing next to a bubbling spring, with a small fire burning merrily and a small pot bubbling above it on a sturdy makeshift spit. And seated in the lean-to, contentedly sharpening his sword, is one of the very few people Gaetan likes encountering on the Path.

He grins and drops out of the trees onto the soft moss, making no more noise than a feather falling - but of course his target hears. Eskel looks up with a small, crooked, beautifully welcome smile.

“Hey, kitten.”

Gaetan would stab nearly anyone else who dared call him that. Even his brothers know better. But Eskel - well. Eskel is an exception to a lot of Gaetan’s personal rules.

“Got enough in that pot for two?” Gaetan asks.

“Sure,” Eskel says easily.

“I’ve got berries,” Gaetan offers, crossing the clearing with a pause to sniff the stew appreciatively, dropping his pack and swords next to Eskel’s, and then plopping himself into Eskel’s lap as soon as Eskel moves his sword and whetstone to the side. Eskel chuckles and wraps his arms around Gaetan, nuzzling fondly at him until Gaetan tips his head back expectantly.

And then Eskel kisses him, one of the good kisses, deep and hungry, that make Gaetan’s mind go fuzzy with pleasure. Gaetan purrs deep in his chest and goes limp, letting Eskel take all his weight.

Eskel chuckles warmly as he breaks the kiss, and drops another peck on the tip of Gaetan’s nose. “Berries are lovely, but I think I would rather have you for dessert,” he murmurs.

“Smooth bastard,” Gaetan grumbles without heat, and curls closer to tuck his head under Eskel’s chin, basking in the incredibly rare feeling of being safe while out on the Path. Or anywhere, really. Even in the Caravan he’s usually got to keep one eye open in case of pranks or a brother going a little stir-crazy. But with Eskel, he can relax.

Eskel gathers Gaetan a little closer, resting his chin on Gaetan’s head, and starts humming an old song Gaetan half-recognizes as being something he’s heard up in hillfolk territory.

Gaetan smiles and closes his eyes and hums along.

(Or HERE on AO3!)

[meepthemeeping]

Dumb lil head canons:

- Coën doesn't drink unless he is with his brothers

- Lambert likes taking things apart to see how they work

- Geralt vents to his horse about his emotional problems, might be autistic, he's unsure.

- Jaskier has undiagnosed ADHD

- Ciri has no idea how to flirt with boys, she just stares at them instead

- Yennefer finds herself humming Jaskier's music sometimes

- Eskel takes naps in the barn at Kaer Morhen and pretends that he is working sometimes

- Guxart is secretly a huge flirt and ladies man

- Aiden likes sleeping in high places, like trees and rafters

- Gaetan shaves his head often, but has massive, curly hair

- Letho wants to retire and live a simple life

- Vesemir sometimes calls his students his kids

[procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics]

witchers x maleficent!/fae!reader

summary: how witcher characters would react to someone having maleficent type horns/wings and magic

notes: got this out just in time for the new season phew

warnings: gn!reader, lambert the middle schooler, jaskier's composing

tagged: @majesticwren @obsessiveformiyatwins @levithestripper @lu-in-the-library @sunndust (msg me to be added!)

based on this request | masterlist | requests are OPEN!

Geralt

He’s mostly just praying that fate isn’t throwing another curveball at him

Sureeee he’ll spend time with you!! (his fingers are crossed and he’s praying let them be normal let them be normal

Will end up totally accepting you, but he doesn’t love the attention that comes from being a witcher in the company of a fae

He secretly adores your wings

Jaskier

Immediately in song-writing mood

Will make up things about your life to fabricate contents for his ballads

Won’t treat you very different from his other ~weird~ friends

Loves loves loves the attention that comes with it (read: basks in it like the sun)

Yennefer

Yen is fascinated

The academic in her wants to tell her colleagues

And the girl who was all alone and abandoned in her absolutely adores you

You’d do good to make sure that she’s on your side, or she might sell you out

Definitely wants a piece of your magic either way

Ciri

Poor ciri

Eugh she just wants some friends

That don’t die…

She loves your horns and wings

Definitely adores you for also being *different* and having your own magic thing going on

Eskel

He adores your wings

If there is a wing care routing, please let this man do it

Otherwise, he might invent a conditioner-potion for your wings

Don’t scare him in the beginning though, or you may get stabbed

Lambert

Has the reaction of a seventh-grader

Might literally go woahhhhhh

Big hater, but not against you

Will protect you, but will also ask you if you can carry stuff with your horns constantly

Yeah becoming a christmas tree-esque creature may be a con

Coen

Coen honestly just enjoys a helping hand

Your magic will in fact be contributing to his work

Tbf he also makes sure you don’t get killed by angry farmers

The whole thing starts off as a symbiotic relationship but will turn into a friendship (if not more hehe)

Vesemir

Bro does not trust you

Thots and prayers girldude

Oh you have horns and wings? LIKE A MONSTER??

Unless one of his witchers (read:children) introduces you to him, he may attempt murder

[slumberingcorpse]

Imagine if instead of cats being terrified of witchers, they instead loved witchers? I can just picture Lambert just walking into a town with an army of cats that he’s gathered just to cause utter chaos. (Yes, he has tried to train all of his cats to attack people he doesn’t like. He gave up after a week). Every time, Eskel sleeps in a barn or stables he wakes up with a whole colony of stray cats sleeping on him causing him to often get up late since he doesn’t want to disturb their sleep. He also makes sure to feed them any chance he gets. Geralt would constantly lose his mind during hunts since kittens will start to pop out of nowhere wanting attention and he will have to kill monsters while protecting each cat. As for Vesemir, he busies himself with building cat trees for all the cats that wander into Kear Morhan and treat them as more of his children. He gave them all names and makes clothes, toys (Made with the purest of cat nip), and beds for all of them. Some of them even have small versions of the wolf medallions as collars.

[shy-urban-hobbit]

When he was still living with his parents, Lambert would have given anything to have a Christmas like the ones on TV: The perfect tree, a loving father who would get mildly annoyed at the kids, but never angry and a whole bunch of presents. In the years following The Incident - with Christmas in various group homes being a bit of a non event - those spent under Vesemir's care came close, but - in a Christmas tradition of their own over the last twenty or so years - they were always met with disappointment from all parties at some point when Lambert either wouldn't or couldn't fit into the cookie cutter Perfect Family Christmas in the same way his brothers found so effortless (he still didn't think the old man had quite forgiven him for the first Christmas he could legally drink. He went barhopping with friends and left a puddle of vomit under the tree when he finally stumbled home early Christmas Eve morning). This year however was shaping up to be quite different for many reasons.

Lambert couldn't help but smirk to himself as he compared the decorations on the syrupy, Hallmark Christmas movie to the ones surrounding him. Their tiny, battery operated Christmas tree blinked at him cheerfully from the waist high bookcase they used as a marker to separate living room space from bedroom space, the ceiling was covered in the paperchains they'd sat making with Ciri last time they were babysitting after Aiden had found a huge pack of multicoloured craft paper on discount, the windows were covered in snowflakes in every colour of the rainbow made from the same stuff (which Lambert had found amusingly fitting, all things considered). Fairy lights had been a no-go unfortunately after an unexpected bill threw off their budget for the month, but maybe next year...

Sleepy snuffling and movement from the other side of the bookcase caught his attention and the smirk turned into a fond smile as Aiden emerged from under the covers and shuffled the five steps from the bed to the tiny kitchen area.

"Hey babe. Esk sent me home with a sandwich for you from lunch, it's in the fridge if you want it." Lambert called out, causing Aiden to grumble something and wave a hand in thanks and acknowledgement. Lambert turned his attention back to the TV, but didn't bother turning up the volume from the low murmur he'd set it at to avoid waking Aiden as he slept off a double shift at the bar; stumbling home in the early hours and briefly running into Lambert on the threshold as he was leaving for his own day at work with Vesemir and Eskel.

Aiden wordlessly handed him a mug of sachet hot chocolate and set his own on the coffee table before joining him on the couch, pressing into his side with a happy wiggle and a pleased hum as he took a bite of his sandwich. Extra cheese and extra relish - just how he liked it. They sat in silence for a few minutes while Aiden ate and Lambert sipped at his hot chocolate, one arm around Aiden's shoulder, his thumb stroking idly.

"Did you get a chance to talk to your dad about tonight?" Aiden asked as he dusted his hands free of crumbs.

"He was... surprisingly chill about it."

That was a conversation Lambert had been kind of dreading. It was tradition that the Lupeson kids and any partners (and kids of their own in Geralt's case) gathered at the family home Christmas Eve for a night of eating, drinking and wholesome family fun. He'd gone to Vesemir that morning to explain that Aiden and himself wished to be excused. He'd had a whole speech prepared about how they'd both saved for their apartment from the ground up - despite both Vesemir and Guxart offering to help with a deposit so they could get something better - and it was nothing personal, it was just after all the blood and sweat and crap they'd gone through together and individually to reach this point, they'd both come to the realisation the previous day that they just wanted to experience Christmas Eve in their own crappy little apartment. Just the two of them.

He'd been met with Vesemir's trademark mouth tilt and he'd gotten as far as "It's just that-" into his speech before the other stopped him with an "I understand lad. God knows neither of us ever thought this would be how things turned out for you." The easy acceptance had been a bit of a shock as was the back pat, "Enjoy it, you've worked hard enough for it. Make sure you're both around for midday tomorrow."

"Told you he wouldn't mind. I actually think things might improve between you two now you're not constantly in one another's space."

"Yeah?"

"Yup. Happened with Guxart and Axel. Now, what the bloody hell are we actually watching and why is that woman having a literal breakdown over a Christmas cake?"

The rest of the day passed more or less the same way. Drinking crappy hot chocolate and laughing at even crappier Christmas specials, snuggling under the blanket Lambert dragged from the bed once the temperature went down along with the sun and leaving their building only to grab takeout and treat themselves to a bottle of top shelf whiskey after Guxart dropped some cash into Aiden's account, saying it was a Christmas/housewarming gift and he'd try to visit after New Years.

"Think he'll ever take Ves up on his offer to spend Christmas over here?"

Aiden shook his head as he poured them both another measure, a couple of drops falling onto the blanket they'd spread out on the floor along with the booze and food earlier in a living room picnic, "Guxart hates traveling around the holidays. Plus, I don't think any of us would survive the sexual tension between them for a whole two days. Hey!" He scooted over until he was sat in Lambert's lap, shoving his phone in his face, "It's gone midnight." He said with a grin and a firm kiss, "Happy first apartment Christmas, Pup."

Lambert snorted, pulling the other further into his lap, "Really. That's what you're going with?"

"Humour me, please."

"Fine, fine. Happy first apartment Christmas, Kitten."

Lambert guided Aiden back into a slower, deeper kiss as footage from a midnight carol service somewhere started playing. Screw Hallmark. As far as he was concerned, this right here was the perfect Christmas.