#witcher rarepair bingo

[cake-shop-rarepair-bingo]

Valentines Rarepair Bingo!

I had a thought with a friend, and we laughed and decided to make a tiny little valentines event! Two cards, you can pick and choose or mix and match, whatever you like. Tag us and we'll rebagel rarepair works for the rest of February!

Rules:

Bingo fills can be art, sketches, drabbles, new chapters, new fics, on ao3, tumblr, whatever. Paint a picture, create a gifset. Go nuts. Seriously. We're celebrating characters here not giving you a ton of rules about what you can create.

Tag your shit. All of it. No excuses, no "oh no it's spoilers". We tag like responsible fandom around here. <3

Don't be a dick xoxox

WHAT PAIRINGS COUNT?

If your pairing has under 500 works in their ship tag on ao3, they count. I'm not the police. If it was 498 when you wrote it and 520 when you post it, that's fine. We want to give rare characters more love, not stress out creators.

CHALLENGE MODE: Fill a card with pairings under 50, especially if you have to type in your own relationship tags.

DOES IT HAVE TO BE WITCHER?

No. BUT WHY CANT I WRITE MY FAVORITE BIG CANON SHIP?! DO YOU HATE XYZ CHARACTER?!?!

Sure you can write it. No, excluding the most popular ship isn't 'hate'. Why are you in a rarepair bingo? Those pairings have thousands of works, and more readership than any rarepair fic. My favourite pairing has six fics. Total. I can't stop you writing, but I won't share it, because the point is to give some kisses to rare characters. <3 xo

PLEASE NOTE: PAIRINGS DO NOT HAVE TO BE ROMANTIC OR SEXUAL. FAMILY, QPP, AND QPR ALL ARE WELCOME AND ENCOURAGED.

[justhereforeskel]

First fill for the @cake-shop-rarepair-bingo 🙌

Prompt: Reading Aloud Fandom: Witcher Relationships: Eskel x Damien Rating: M Content Warnings: Butts 🐺🍑

[between-thepages]

My first fill for the @cake-shop-rarepair-bingo!

His Beautiful Fox

Prompt:  Teasing in Public

Fandom: The Witcher

Relationships:  Isengrim Faoiltiarna/Iorveth

Rating: Explicit

Content Warnings: Semi-Public Sex, Alley Sex, Dry Humping

Summary: Isengrim is not used to seeing his lover without armour - and it awakens something in both of them.

Also a part of the Cooking with the Hanza July Theme, Tropes and Clichés.

[thirstyforred]

Rarepair Flash Fic

@cake-shop-rarepair-bingo i felt bad for not being able to write anything in the last weeks despite having ideas, but the drabble challenge is just perfect for me now, so thanks for that idea!

and so i managed to also hit a spot on both of my cards :p

Winter Queen x Gaunter O'Dimm - Shard of Glass

Truth is but a shard of ice.

That’s the moral of the fairy tale parents tell their children. But the truth is neither a shard nor ice. It’s glass. And it’s hurt.

There was once Alder princess of snow-white beauty and piercing eyes. What she deserved was everything and what her courtiers were able to give her was never enough. Yet…

One winter day she fell for a man of no origin and no loyalty. For the Shadow in the Mirror. The man gave his princess a beautiful mirror - with a surface clear like the White Frost.

But it broke.

[astaldis]

@cake-shop-rarepair-bingo

@juneofdoom

Bingo Prompt: Please, just let me go.

June of Doom Prompt: Day 27 - I’m so sorry

Chapters: 1/1 Words: 500 Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach & Gallatin Characters: Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach, Gallatin, Filavandrel aén Fidháil Additional Tags: Season/Series 03 Spoilers, Character Death, Blood and Violence, Friends to Enemies, Nightmare 

Summary: While being on his mission with the Scoia'tael, Cahir is haunted by a horrible nightmare. Major spoilers for The Witcher Season 3 Episodes 3 and 4!

Warning: Spoilers beneath the line.

[sageclover61]

What Must Be Done, To Protect One's Love

Written with myself and @hyrulehearts1123​

@cake-shop-rarepair-bingo​​

Prompts: Soothing their fears

Fandom: The Witcher

Chapters: 1

Rating: M

Warnings: No Additional Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Eskel/Kiyan

Additional Tags:  Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Stalking, Past Abuse 

Summary: When Kiyan's abusive stalker of an Ex makes a sudden reappearance after years in prison, Eskel is determined to do whatever it takes to protect his partner.

Even if it means taking a secret or two to his grave.

Of all the sounds Eskel expected to hear coming from the kitchen while he was sorting out the final touches of his outfit, shattering glass was pretty low on the list. "Love? You alright in there?" Eskel called out.

The silence was nearly deafening, which was almost more concerning than the sound of the glass.

Eskel stepped away from the mirror, knowing that whatever was going on in the kitchen was more important than anything else.

"Kiyan?" He called, walking out into the hallway, and carefully making his way towards the kitchen. "Is everything ok?"

Kiyan didn't respond, but he didn't need to, because Eskel immediately saw him upon stepping into the kitchen. His partner was sitting on the floor, the kitchen island more than firmly between him and the window overlooking the front lawn. The shattered glass of water was a few feet away from him, no towel in sight even as the water continued rolling further and further away.  

Careful of the glass, Eskel moved to kneel in front of Kiyan, gently reaching out to place a hand on his partner's knee. "Hey, love," he whispered. "Do you need a minute? Or do you need me to do something?"

Now that he was so close to his partner, he could see the plain, unassuming paper that was slowly being crushed in Kiyan's hand. Kiyan lifted his head, his pupils blown wide, as he put his empty hand on top of Eskel's. He seemed to finally unfreeze, unnatural stillness giving way to harsh trembling.

"Eskel," Kiyan choked out, as tears began to fall down his face. "I can't, he's, he'll-"

Shit  . There was only one thing that could scare Kiyan, and Eskel knew exactly what that something was. The  ex  must've been released, or had found a way to cause psychic damage from behind bars, Eskel would have to do some research it seemed.

Before he could do any of that, though, he had a partner to comfort. "We're gonna be ok," he soothed, carefully pulling the letter out of Kiyan's hand, and hiding it in his pocket to deal with later. "Just like last time. We were fine then, and we're gonna be fine now."

"He knows where we  live ," Kiyan whispered, sliding closer to Eskel. "He's going to hurt us."

Wrapping his arms around Kiyan, Eskel held him tight, not giving a damn about his outfit, as Kiyan clung to him. "He won't have the chance to," Eskel swore. "We've still got that restraining order, the police will help this time. And if they don’t, I'll hire Viper Security."

"But-"

"Gaetan said Letho's siblings were coming to the housewarming tonight. At the very least we can show them the letter and the camera footage."

Kiyan still shook, but the desperation with which he was clinging to Eskel was lessening, somewhat. "We'll figure this out, I promise." Eskel whispered, kissing the top of his head. "Now, why don't we get you a little more comfortable, I'll clean up the glass, and we'll head to Gaetan's house. Does that sound okay?"

After a long moment during which Eskel was half certain Kiyan would pose an objection, his partner finally nodded. "Okay."

Kissing Kiyan's head again, Eskel slowly pulled back, smiling softly. "Alright, love. Wash your face, I'm going to text Letho and make sure that his siblings will be there, so we can talk with them."

Kiyan nodded, and let Eskel help him up before gingerly avoiding the glass as he made his way towards the bathroom. 

Sighing to himself, Eskel pulled his phone from his pocket and tapped a quick text to Letho.  Are your siblings still coming?

Letho was quick to respond, as always.  They are, they'll be here closer to dinner, though.

A moment later, another text followed.  Do I need to ask them to see if they can come sooner?

Eskel considered the new text. It'd probably help calm Kiyan faster, but Kiyan wasn't going to appreciate it if everyone was in his business, and he'd be worried about overwhelming Gaetan. On the other hand, however, it seemed that Letho already knew something was wrong.

Sighing, he sent back a quick,  If it's possible, it would be appreciated , before grabbing the broom and dustpan. The spilled water would dry, in time, but the shattered glass wasn't about to clean itself up.

By the time he was dumping the contents of the dustpan into the garbage, Kiyan padded back into the kitchen.

He was still shaky, still pale, and his eyes were still red, and swollen from his tears.

Eskel set the dustpan down just as Kiyan stepped into his space, angling for a hug. "It's okay, Love," Eskel whispered, wrapping an arm around Kiyan. "Lemme grab a hard copy of the footage, and then we can head out."

"I don't want to see it," Kiyan whispered, leaning heavily against Eskel. "I  can't  see him, not after...."

Eskel grimaced, nodding. "I understand. Do you want to stay out here, or come to the office with me? It won't be more than a few minutes, either way."

"I'll come with you," Kiyan mumbled quietly. Eskel nodded, and escorted his partner down the hall, and into the office. He didn't need to view the footage to put a copy of it on a flash drive to take with them, and then they could head to Gaetan and Letho's new house.

Gods, why couldn't Kiyan ever catch a break, Eskel wondered, as he turned the computer on, and waited for it to boot up. Every time things were going well for him,  something  had to go wrong, usually in the worst ways possible.

Finally got to reconnect with his siblings, and who else would make a reappearance, but the abusive ex, too.  Fuck .

Eskel’s phone beeped at him before he could turn the computer back off, so he checked it.

To his relief, it was a text from Gweld, and not an unknown number. Kiyan's ex had never tried contacting him before, but at this point, Eskel wouldn't be surprised if there were an escalation in behavior. Opening the message, Eskel couldn’t help but blink in surprise.

This is Serrit. Gweld let me borrow his phone, since he's driving, and I doubted you'd answer an unknown number. Gweld mentioned you two have some cameras around the house, if you send any footage you might have of your problem to my email, I can get someone to keep an eye on things while you're at Letho's.   

Her email was listed in the bottom of the text, so he took a moment to attach a copy of the video to an email. While it sent, he tapped back,  Thank you. Someone left an unmarked nasty-gram in the mailbox, Kiyan thinks it's from his abusive ex, the one we thought was in jail.

It didn't take long for Serrit to reply.  Just got the email. I've got one of my best in your area, he'll be there in ten minutes, if you'd prefer to meet him before leaving. Otherwise, try your best to relax. The bastard isn't going to get away with this.

"Serrit's gonna have someone from Viper Security watch the house while we're gone, in case he comes back. Do you want to meet him or do you want to head to Gaetan's?"

"Should probably meet him," Kiyan mumbled, from the comfortable chair that had been put in the office just for him. He may not have as in-depth a role in the restaurant as Eskel did, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t join Eskel in the office, reading a book, or doing something on his laptop, while Eskel worked on the taxes or inventory.

Kiyan would like to meet him,  he texted back, just in case they needed to know that.

I'll let him know.  Serrit replied.  You're looking for a black car, dark windows. His name is Kolgrim, and he'll be in uniform, with a badge that's got his name on it.

Just as Eskel was about to tell Kiyan who they were looking for, Serrit sent another text, this time a photo of the man they were waiting for.

"Love, can you come here for a moment?" Kiyan started slightly, but was quick to stand, moving over to the desk. Gently pulling Kiyan down, so his partner was safely sat in his lap, Eskel reached to grab his phone, showing Kiyan the picture that Serrit had sent. "This is the one who Serrit is sending over. Do you want to watch the cameras for him, or just sit and try to relax until he gets here?"

Kiyan leaned forward until his head was pressed against Eskel. "Wanna sit here."

"We can do that, Love," Eskel smiled softly, wrapping his arms around Kiyan, and holding him close.

Eskel wasn't sure how long they sat there, but Serrit's ten minute estimate was probably pretty accurate. His phone beeped again.  Kolgrim's at your door, he suggested walking you guys to your car if it'd make you feel safer .

He sent back a quick  Thank you , before gently nudging his partner. "The person that Serrit sent, Kolgrim, is here."

"Is it safe?" Kiyan asked. "He didn't mess with the car, did he?"

Eskel shook his head. "There was only one event recorded by the cameras, which was him leaving the letter in the box, then walking away. Kolgrim did offer to walk us to the car, though, if you'd like."

"I'd like that," Kiyan whispered.

"Alright," Eskel nodded, gently nudging Kiyan again. "Go grab the food you wanted to bring, I'll get the door."

Kiyan nodded, standing up and slowly making his way towards the kitchen. At the same time, Eskel moved to the front door, careful to block the view into the house, just in case, as he opened the door.

Thankfully, however, the man on the other side of the door matched the picture that Serrit had sent, rather than being the sick bastard who was the sole source of Kiyan's nightmares.

"Hey," the man greeted, nodding. "I'm Kolgrim. Serrit sent me to help keep an eye on things, while you guys hang out with Letho at his new place."

 Eskel nodded, opening the door wider, and taking a step back so Kolgrim could step inside. "Thanks for coming so soon. Please, come in."

"It was no problem," Kolgrim grinned, moving to stand just inside the house. "I don’t live too far, and my shift was gonna start in an hour anyway, so it wasn't like I had anything planned."

"Still," Eskel said as he let the door fall closed. Maybe he should have felt mildly concerned about letting a stranger in, but he wasn't really a stranger. Serrit had vouched for him, and she was not only Letho's sister, but also the long time partner of Eskel's brother, Gweld. "I appreciate it." And, more importantly, anything that made Kiyan feel safer was permissible.

"I'm not about to leave someone stressing, when I can do something to help," Kolgrim said, his grin fading into a more serious expression. "Now, I get that this is your house too, but Kiyan's the one this bastard is focused on, so I do need to set everything up with him."

Eskel nodded, having expected as much. "He's in the kitchen, we were just getting ready to leave. But he's scared. This guy put him through hell."

Kolgrim nodded. "I don't know all the details, and I don't need to. But the fact you asked us for help is telling enough. We're scary fuckers when we need to be."

Kiyan met them halfway into the kitchen, a large pan of Gaetan's favorite chicken dish in his hands. "You must be Kolgrim?" he asked, voice shaking even as he tried for a grin.

To Kolgrim's credit, he didn't draw attention to how shaken Kiyan clearly was, choosing instead to nod, standing on the opposite side of the island to put more space between them. "Yeah, I'm Kolgrim. It's nice to finally meet one of my sort-of in-laws, though I do wish it were under better circumstances."  

"That's right, you're Serrit's....sibling?" Kiyan guessed, and Kolgrim shook his head. 

"Nah, cousin. I didn't get adopted like they did, so I'm not really a sibling, you know?" Kolgrim shrugged then, before looking at Kiyan. "But I'm not here to talk about myself. Before you two leave, I want to get an idea of what all you want me to be doing while you're gone."

"I don't know how he got this address, we moved here after he went to prison," Kiyan mumbled, trembling even as he stepped closer to Eskel. "He broke the restraining order."

Eskel immediately wrapped an arm around Kiyan, holding his partner close. Fuck, he wished that there was more that he could do. 

"Alright," Kolgrim started, his voice soft. "I'm going to recommend keeping your house under constant watch, to make sure that he doesn't have a chance to get to either of you while you're here. I know it sounds extreme, and it's kind of invasive, but judging from the record that Serrit sent me, you'll probably need it."

"He tried to set me on fire," Kiyan whispered. "It wouldn't surprise me if he tried to set the house on fire."

"We won't let that happen," Kolgrim swore, and Eskel couldn't help but believe him. "Serrit's making this one personal, we're dedicating everyone we can spare, to keep you safe."  

" Thank you ," Kiyan said.

"It's nothing you need to thank us for," Kolgrim smiled softly. "Now, before I get you on your way, there's just one thing I need to ask you, Kiyan."

"Yes?" Kiyan asked, even as his grip on Eskel's shirt tightened his grasp.

"How do you want me to keep watch, while you're gone?" Kolgrim asked. "Do you want me inside, outside, or do you want me to call someone else out here, to keep an eye on the outside, while I keep an eye on things inside?"

Kiyan shrugged. "It doesn’t matter. If he's watching, he knows you're here, so your cover’s already blown. If he isn’t, and he thinks I've called someone to house-sit, that puts you in danger."

Kolgrim sighed. "That is a risk, but it's one that we're willing to take. How about this, I'll leave when you do, and come back about ten, fifteen minutes later, to keep an eye on things. Do you think he would stick around that long, if he's still in the area?"

Kiyan shrugged. "I'm sorry, I really don't know."

"That's alright, I'm not upset," Kolgrim was quick to assure him. "Just figured I'd ask, in case you had any ideas."

"I do want to thank you again, though," Eskel cut in, pulling Kiyan the slightest bit closer. "You're taking this a lot more seriously than the cops did, last time."

Kolgrim nodded, sighing softly. "They didn't take my mama seriously when she tried to report her monster, either, until it was too late. If I can keep someone else's monster from being able to hurt them, that's all I want." He took a deep breath then, before shaking his head. "Enough about the past, though. Let's get you to your car, so you can go enjoy your night out. My cousins have been excited about seeing Letho's new digs."

Eskel pulled into the driveway of the address Letho had texted him, and almost had to ask if he'd perhaps gotten the address wrong. Beside him, even Kiyan seemed to be in disbelief, if the way he gasped was any indication. "Who do you think Letho killed to score this place?"

"Someone rich," Eskel guessed, as he parked his car next to Lambert's. "Damn, this place looks massive."

"I wonder why he waited so long, that apartment has not been good for Gaetan's mental health," Kiyan added. 

Eskel shrugged, disinclined to speculate because that was none of his business. "It was probably luck, honestly. Shall we go say hello?"

"No reason not to, I guess." Eskel helped his partner out of the car, taking the dish of chicken pasta from Kiyan, and holding it safely until he was able to take it from him.

The front door was pushed open just as they started ascending the stairs. "My chicken pasta!" Gaetan exclaimed, grinning at his older brother.

"Back off, heathen! It needs to go in the oven!" Kiyan grinned, carefully shifting his hold on the dish in order to keep it safely out of Gaetan's grasp.

"But  Kiyan ," Gaetan whined, reaching for the dish even though it was held out of his reach.

"No buts!" Kiyan shook his head. "It needs to bake, or you won't get any!"

"But it's so good even when it's  cold ." 

Kiyan blinked, and again. "Gaetan, it's not cold, it's  raw ."

"Oh." Gaetan's arms dropped back to his sides. "Right. The oven should be about done preheating for you."

Kiyan rolled his eyes, as he started walking into the house. "How you haven't died of food poisoning yet is a mystery."

“That’s easy, Letho does all the cooking.”

Eskel followed them into the house, but was saved from having to follow them into the kitchen by Lambert stepping into his personal space. "Everything okay?" Lambert asked, stepping into his space.

Sighing softly, Eskel shook his head. "It's been a long day."

"Gweld and Serrit should be here soon," Lambert said.

"Good," Eskel nodded, glancing towards the kitchen, where Kiyan was talking with both Gaetan and Aiden. "Need to figure some more stuff out, before we go home."  

"No reason to worry about leaving just yet, you've only just arrived."

"That's part of the long day, unfortunately."

Lambert took a half step forward, letting his elbow lightly bump into Eskel's. "It'll be okay."

Sighing again, Eskel bumped his elbow against Lambert's. "Thanks, Lamb."

Lambert smiled at him, and then turned to walk towards the kitchen. Eskel rubbed his hand over his face.

He wanted to believe that everything would be okay, but he couldn't help but worry.

"Do you want to come see the balcony?" Letho asked, startling Eskel because he hadn't seen him enter the room. “Fresh air’s great after a long day.”

"That sounds like a threat?"

Letho rolled his eyes. "Between you and Lambert, I'm never gonna escape the jokes, am I?"

Eskel grinned. "I'm surprised your siblings haven't gotten in any ribbing yet."

Letho chuckled, shaking his head. "Serrit and Auckles were the ones who looked into the property to make sure everything was above board, and Warrit’s still in school, he doesn't have the  time  to make fun of anyone."

"Good to know," Eskel said, still grinning. "Sure, I'd take a look at the balcony."

"It's this way," Letho smiled, leading Eskel past the kitchen, towards a gorgeous pair of glass doors that led outside. "We don’t have any furniture for it yet, but the view is  phenomenal ."

The house  was just past the edge of town and situated on a hill, so there was a panoramic view of town, and the ridges along the horizon.  

It was absolutely gorgeous, and way more than any of them should've ever been able to afford. "Genuinely, how the fuck did you two afford this?"

Letho chuckled, shaking his head. "It was on the market for a while, but no one wanted it because the previous owner died here. From what Serrit dug up, it was a heart attack. No foul play, no crimes, just shit luck with genetics and lifestyle. But no one wanted a potentially haunted property, so the price was rock bottom."

"Is it haunted?" Eskel asked, morbidly curious.

Letho shrugged. "If it is, we haven’t noticed. Pretty sure that friend of Geralt’s could help if it was, though. Triss, I think her name is?"

"She probably could. I don't put much stock in that sort of thing, but she's nice enough."

"Neither do we, but if any weird shit happens that can't be fixed by the usual methods, at least we know who to call."

A knock from behind caused them to turn around, catching sight of Serrit standing against the glass doors. "Afternoon, you two. Got some time to talk business, or are we gonna wait a while?" She asked, walking out onto the balcony.

"Now's fine," Eskel said. Better to get it out of the way now so they could get on with enjoying the evening.

Letho pushed away from the balcony railing, nodding. "I'll make myself scarce, then. You want me to send Kiyan out?"

Eskel shook his head. "He's been through enough." He could understand why Kolgrim had wanted to let Kiyan have as much say as was reasonable, but Kiyan needed the break more right now.

Letho nodded. "Alright. I'll let you know when the food's ready."

"Thanks, Letho," Serrit smiled, as she moved to stand next to Eskel, where Letho had been a moment before. "Alright, to work then. Do you have the letter, or is it back at the house?"

Eskel pulled the letter out of his pocket and wordlessly handed it to Serrit.

"Do you mind if I read it?" Serrit asked. "We've got access to his record, and we know what he said last time, but if his threats have escalated..."

"Go ahead."

Eskel hadn't had an opportunity to read it yet, but Serrit had enough experience with this sort of thing that she'd get more out of it than he would.

She nodded, unfolding the letter, and reading for several moments. Before long, she sighed, shaking her head as she folded the letter again, and placing it in her pocket. "Well, there’s good news, and bad news."

"Yeah?" Eskel asked, wondering how there could possibly be a silver lining when Kiyan's worst nightmare was free and tormenting him.

"The good news is that he apologized for trying to light Kiyan on fire, and swears to not do it again, because hurting Kiyan is an unthinkable sin." Serrit grimaced, shaking her head. "The bad news, he's clearly still fixated on Kiyan, even after five years in prison."

Eskel winced. He could've guessed as much, given the fact that the bastard had tracked them down, even after they’d moved, and done everything they could to keep their information out of any public registers, specifically citing Kiyan's stalker as a safety concern. But the confirmation stung, nonetheless.

"Unfortunately, that's not where the bad news ends," Serrit continued, after a moment. "He's fixated on  you , as well."

" Fuck ," Eskel whispered. That wasn’t good, by any stretch of the imagination. Especially knowing just what he was capable of.

Serrit nodded. "He sees you as having, and I'm quoting the letter here, 'turned Kiyan against him', and seems determined to do whatever it takes to prevent you from keeping Kiyan from him any longer."

Eskel sighed. "I'm not the one that burned Kiyan, I just picked up the pieces."

Serrit shrugged. "He doesn't see it that way. Remember, he testified himself that burning Kiyan was an attempt to 'purify him of the filth of the world'. He's lucid enough to know that what he did was wrong, but not enough to know that Kiyan wouldn't want to ever associate with him again because of it."

He shook his head. "And our options? I doubt the police will see this as a credible threat."

With another sigh, Serrit leaned against the railing. "The way I see it, you've only really got two options. You can go the legal route, and have us watch the house until he does something that could be chargeable, and hope the courts decide to do something, or, you stop asking too many questions, and let us  handle  things."

Eskel opened his mouth to retort, and then shut it again. 

Oh . 

Well then. 

Everyone  knew  that getting the Vipers involved was going to spell trouble for whoever got on the wrong side of them. But he  had  already decided that whatever means it took to keep his beloved safe was on the table. "Thanks for keeping him safe," he whispered, turning to head back inside.

"Eskel?" He turned back at Serrit's call, to see her smiling softly. "We'll still be watching, until he's taken care of.  Both  of you will be safe, I swear."

Eskel nodded. "Thank you."

Serrit shook her head. "Don't thank me. I'm not doing anything other than making sure that you and your partner are safe while there's a stalker threatening your safety. Just like any reputable security company would do."

Eskel chuckled, rolling his eyes slightly as he nodded again and retreated back inside.

To his relief, Kiyan was visually relaxed, laughing at whatever poor taste joke Lambert had just finished telling. There were still signs of his anxiety, like the way he stood perfectly straight, rather than his usual relaxed slouch, or the way he occasionally glanced towards the front door, as if expecting it to open at any minute, but he seemed to be enjoying himself for the moment, and that was all that mattered.

Auckles and Zofia had arrived at some point, leaning against the far wall where they could keep an eye on the gathering. From the knowing look that Auckles sent him, Eskel was certain that he knew exactly what kind of  business  he and Serrit had been discussing.

He couldn’t bring himself to care though, as he slowly moved to stand beside Kiyan, wrapping an arm around his partner, and pulling him close.

He’d sworn, back when they’d first gotten together, that he would do whatever it took to keep him safe. And if keeping him safe meant taking the knowledge of what happened to Kiyan’s ex to his grave?

Well, sometimes, a man needed to keep secrets.

[wolfgeralt]

Lovers in Toussaint

Pairing: Emhyr var Emreis/Geralt of Rivia

Summary: Emhyr's inaugral visit to Corvo Bianco goes pleasantly.

Word count: 1,135 Rating: T Notes: Light, quick fic inspired by @witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo and @continentcakeshop's Valentine's Rarepair Bingo Fulfilling the prompts: "Kiss from behind" and "I love you".

Link to AO3 in the title, or continued below.

Respite was long overdue for them both. Nestled within the valleys of Toussaint, the sun-baked, sprawling estate of Corvo Bianco provided Geralt with a luxurious, stable state of comfort and simplicity, the like of which neither of them had ever truly known.

Geralt had offered to host Emhyr during imperial passage through Toussaint after a last minute letter arriving on his doorstep. Never mind how close it was to the palace; Emhyr pointedly scheduled the visit in the itinerary. While they had admittedly slept together both before and after Ciri’s presence in his life, it was not until the Emperor began winding down his duties and Morvran took his seat upon the throne, when finally opportunity presented itself for Emhyr to explore more personal pursuits. One of those being Geralt.

Upon arrival late in the afternoon, Emhyr was guided around the Corvo Bianco estate by Geralt and a mildly flustered Barnabas-Basil who turned ruddy enough to look as though he had downed a bottle of Sangreal, even his head glistening in the sinking summer sun. Emhyr had commented on the site’s rustic charm, complimented the romantic setting, how the estate had interesting history in the bones of its timber, and showed particular fascination with the elven foundations cut into the bedrock itself.

It was clear Emhyr was as enamoured of Corvo Bianco as he was. Geralt was caught smirking as he trailed behind, enjoying the view. Emhyr glanced at him sideways, stern and cautioning, but kept his posture regal and directed from Geralt, trying to remain subtle.

“It is sufficient for my needs. My guardsmen will camp within the grounds and patrol the site border. They have rations. I, however, will dine with the witcher and sample your most recent vintage of Sepremento,” Emhyr decided for them and in that long moment, Geralt witnessed all that hot colour drain from Barnabas-Basil’s face at the realisation they had an imperial guest for dinner, without the usual levels of formal preparation, which Geralt had wanted to avoid all the fuss of, and so had kept the identity of their guest to himself.

“Don’t sweat it, B.B.” Geralt passed him by, clapping the majordomo on the shoulder and squeezing reassuringly. “For Emhyr, that’s high praise. And he eats stew and bread like anyone else. Marlene’s stew’s the best grub I’ve ever had.”

“Wonderful,” Emhyr agreed neatly, wandering towards the fence at the highest vantage point of the estate, looking down his nose with approval. Geralt's sensitive hearing picked up how Emhyr released a long sigh as he surveyed the tranquil setting and the vast, verdant landscape beyond basked in the glow of early sunset.

“Then I consider His Imperial Majesty’s visit a highlight to document for Corvo Bianco’s history.” With that, Barnabas-Basil bowed with a low and practised flourish which Geralt could never manage- his body simply refused to memorise the motion and Emhyr often teased him for his awkwardness.

Emhyr thanked Barnabas-Basil and dismissed him, giving Geralt the opportunity to gather close and wind his arms around Emhyr’s middle. The silk robe he wore was much lighter than his former heavy leathers padded for his protection, and layers of thick finery designed to intimidate. They were rather elegant to be true traveling clothes, so Geralt suspected they had been worn for his benefit. As his palm spread across Emhyr’s front, he could feel familiar grooves of muscle, a little softness to him, even the subtle bump of hardened scar tissue. They felt sensual as much as they looked elegant. Geralt felt the lift of Emhyr’s chest as he pressed hand to heart, sensing the subtle thrum of excitement deep in his lover's chest.

“Behave.” Emhyr turned his head towards Geralt’s, even as the first kiss was planted at the delicate point between ear and broad jaw. Feeling another gasp under his palm, Geralt's hand was covered by Emhyr’s, grasping, and his bare forearm clung to as Geralt made a point of lavishing all his pent up affection onto Emhyr's neck.

What felt like an age later, with Emhyr’s fine, silk collar crumpled and tugged down to his shoulder, the two were left wrapped up tightly. Geralt slowed his kisses, pecked at Emhyr’s stubble speckled cheek, not minding the gentle prickle against his now tender lips. Catching Geralt’s golden eyes with his own amber, Emhyr turned to look at him as best he could manage being trapped in such a strong, protective hold. Emhyr twisted further and reached back to grasp the base of Geralt’s ponytail to forcefully pull him down into a shamelessly messy kiss.

Melting apart again, eventually, they rested comfortably together. Geralt remained curled up behind Emhyr, whose black and gold robes were further askew, while his own white locks were in disarray. They stayed rooted to the spot, gazing out at the view quietly, sticky where they were skin on skin, and knowing the warm night ahead would yield a similar feeling.

“I have missed you.”

“You too,” Geralt mumbled, ducking his head to kiss Emhyr’s broad shoulder, even through his shirt.

“I love it here,” Emhyr confessed, sounding as breathless and soft as he did after sex.

“Thought you might.” The grin spreading across his face was nuzzled away into Emhyr’s neck, making him purr and reach back for Geralt’s hair once more.

“I love you.”

In the same moment, both their breaths caught. Geralt loosened his hold enough to turn Emhyr by his hips to meet his hopeful gaze. Emhyr looked as though he had caught the sun, lips parting to announce something, perhaps retract his statement even.

Geralt yanked Emhyr to him hard, kissing him fiercely and being grasped at with equal enthusiasm, moving without ever losing contact until they were chest to chest.

After a while, Emhyr’s squeezing became even more insistent, bossy even, so Geralt broke the kiss off to make a panted, hurried suggestion.

“Yeah, yeah, love you too. Very much. Always. Bed?” Geralt gestured towards the main house with his thumb.

“To bed,” Emhyr agreed, giving Geralt a shove to get off him and get moving, and hot on his toes to ensure they could kiss as they moved.

They hurried inside, Geralt leading as best he could, grateful not to have to bother with the stairs as he dragged Emhyr into the master bedroom and kicked the door shut, promptly winded up pinned against it by his lover.

The Imperial summer visit became part of their calendar for a number of years, with regular visits scattered between. It became a shared haven quickly. Until they stopped being mere visits, Emhyr having poured enough investment into the property and the vineyard, and finally announcing his official retirement from court. He traded his empire for his witcher and a quiet, simple life with the one he loved.

[valandhirwriter]

@tumbleweedtech

I hope I am not grating on anyone's nerves, but here is the beginning of that other plot bunny I went chasing yesterday and will continue to chase for a while.

Tag for Cuddling. Friendships here mostly.

[unbury-the-gays]

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski, Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types

Rating: Mature  

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence  

Relationships: Prince Adrien/Kiyan (The Witcher)  

Characters: Kiyan (The Witcher), Prince Adrien (The Witcher), Scoia'tael Members (The Witcher)  

Additional Tags: Date in the woods, Lovers' Tryst, Murder Husbands, Fighting Together, Blood and Injury, assholes in love, Canon-Typical Violence  

Series: Part 7 of Unbury The Gays

Summary: The erratic prince insisted on rendezvous in the woods, and Kiyan reluctantly followed him to a secret place. And while Kiyan expected this date to be a dud, he hadn't anticipated the extent to which things could get out of hand.

_____________

This fic is part of the @save-a-witcher-bingo challenge and fills "Fighting Together" square.

It is also part of the Unbury The Gays series. You can read it as a stand alone, but you will understand it better as part of a series.

_____________

 "How long are we going to wander in these woods?" Kiyan finally asked some time after they’d left the path to shove through the bushes.

 "Patience, kitty, I told you, I know a spot," Adrien replied, making his way through the scrubs with unflagging enthusiasm. "I saw it on a hunt last week, I’m sure you'll like it."

 "I doubt it," Kiyan muttered under his breath. "And I don't understand what's wrong with a decent bed and clean sheets. Trust me, I've slept in the woods many times before, and it's not as exciting as you think."

 "You've slept in the woods many times without me." Adrien looked back at him with that cocky smirk of his. "Don't worry, I'll make sure you will be excited."

 "I would be just as excited, if not more so, at the prospect of a comfortable mattress and silk sheets."

 "Oh?" Adrien feigned surprise in his very theatrical style. "Did you just admit that there are certain aspects of noble life that you enjoy? Could it be that I’ve spoiled you?"

 "I'm not spoiled, just pragmatic." Kiyan sighed, already knowing that he had made a mistake by revealing this weakness. His little secret was that he actually loved Adrien's ridiculously expensive, fancy sheets and his big comfy bed. "If you spend most of your life sleeping outdoors, you appreciate those moments when you have a mattress under your ass instead of pine cones and wet leaves."

 "Okay, I'll let you taste my magnanimity," Adrien said, continuing with his theatrical tone and heaping on extra mockery. "So you don't have to worry about a pine cone biting your delicate ass. You can be on top, I'll be on the bottom."

 "Which is exactly where you belong," Kiyan teased back, and Adrien deliberately let go of the branch he was holding, sending it swinging at Kiyan’s face. His hand snapped up, witcher-fast, and caught the branch before it reached him. However, he didn’t comment on this treacherous attack, because the bushes finally ended and they saw a meadow dotted with small wildflowers and herbs, lit by the rays of the afternoon sun. A rainbow stretched over the meadow, a memory of the morning rain. The whole thing looked almost unreal as if it had fallen straight out of a fairy tale.

READ ON AO3

[tumbleweedtech]

Eh, for those who are tired of my responding to her, I'm not going to again. I responded at first because I did not want anyone to think the bingo blog bans ships. I have never and will never. We set a03 works limits for rarepair status, as we're specifically a rarepair server. But outside of that, as long as you tag appropriately you can write whatever brings you joy. I do not want that questioned. I have never banned dead dove, nsfw, etc. I abide by ao3's rules, largely because I want to encourage creativity, not impose rules. But I am also one person who runs a bingo and server. I have mods that help, but largely when there's events I take the majority of work on myself. My mods are lovely and helpful but most of them were busy. I did this bingo entirely myself. I chose the path of least discourse/drama. Unfortunately, I have experienced in the past few years if you try to resolve stuff like this privately, you get people who know only one side, or the other, and they make assumptions. They guess as to what's been said without asking. And often, they're wrong. So I lean into transparency now, as much as that can be annoying. Because now you all know how i feel. No Censorship.

but also... No Ship Hate.

[wren-of-the-woods]

the greatest songs (are made up of unspoken words)

Fandom: The Witcher Relationships: Radovid/Jaskier Rating: G Content Warnings: None Word Count: 2.3k Inspired by the @cake-shop-rarepair-bingo prompt "love before first sight".

Summary: Radovid hears many songs of Jaskier’s over the years. Each one intrigues him more.

Also on AO3!

~

The first time Radovid heard Jaskier sing, he was little more than a boy. 

He was attending one of the many parties that were an inevitable part of life at court, laughing and enjoying the wine. There had been a bard in the corner, one who mostly sang the usual entertaining drivel. Radovid paid him little heed. Then, suddenly, something changed. 

Toss a coin to your witcher, the bard sang, and the tune caught Radovid’s ear. It was catchy. The words, as he listened further, were even more intriguing. He had hardly ever heard songs about witchers before, let alone songs so positive and full of adventure. 

A few other partygoers began to sing along. Radovid smiled, enjoying the fun. 

The song ended soon enough. Radovid applauded with the rest, then returned to the conversation he had been having with a rather dashing young count. The song was soon forgotten amid a joyful haze of wine and good company, and that might have been the end of it. 

But the next morning, as Radovid brushed his hair and tried to choose the best doublet to wear for the day, he found that he was humming a very catchy tune. 

~

Over the next few years, Radovid became rather familiar with the name of Jaskier the bard. 

Radovid heard many minstrels play at assorted parties, balls, and dinners, each with varying levels of skill and talent. They played all sorts of songs, from their own compositions to traditional ballads. Some were of high quality. Others were distinctly lacking. But, as the years went by, one thing became more and more constant: each evening, at least one song written by Jaskier was played.

“Another tale by Jaskier the bard,” the minstrels would proclaim, and without fail a catchy tune accompanied by words of love or derring-do would follow. Radovid began to rather look forward to them — they were, unlike many of the other bards' work, reliably catchy and entertaining. Even those of his songs with little true substance never failed to make a crowd dance.

There was something about his tales of the witcher, too, that intrigued Radovid. There was a familiarity in the lyrics, a sense that this Jaskier really knew the witcher, that Radovid had not heard in many other songs. The adventures were depicted with a familiarity, almost a fondness, that suggested the bard had truly been present and cared about the outcome. Sometimes, it seemed that the songs suggested something even more than friendship between the witcher and the bard.

Radovid began to seek out rumors of the bard, listening for tales of witchers and a man with a sunny disposition and a sharp tongue. He heard rumor after rumor. He was told tales of their friendship and their adventures. Some claimed that the witcher and the bard were in love with each other. Others claimed that Jaskier was everything from a former street urchin to a runaway siren prince. It was, to say the least, intriguing. 

Despite the week Radovid spent with The Fishmonger’s Daughter perpetually stuck in his head, he found himself becoming rather fond of the bard. 

~

When Radovid heard The Golden One, he did not suspect anything had changed. It was another song of Jaskier’s adventures, another catchy tune to which crowds could sing along. It was popular, just like so many other songs Jaskier had written over the decades. The lyrics were rather simple, but the masterful melody more than made up for it. 

Then, a few weeks later, the bard playing for a diplomatic dinner announced that he would be performing Jaskier’s newest song. Radovid expected it to be The Golden One again, but the opening chords were unfamiliar. It was a few moments before he managed to make out the soft lyrics over the prattle of the duchess’ daughter beside him. 

A storm raging on the horizon, Of longing and heartache and lust It’s always bad news She’s always lose-lose So tell me love, tell me love, how is that just

Radovid’s eyes widened. In ways he could not quite pin down, this felt different than anything Jaskier had written before. The lyrics were precise, the words were chosen with great purpose, and the melody was elegant and melancholy. 

I am weak, my love, and I am wanting, sang the bard, and Radovid’s breath caught in his throat. There was pain in the singer’s voice. Radovid could only imagine how it would have sounded from the lips of the author. 

Radovid listened quietly to the whole song. He paid no heed to his surroundings until the bard finished, releasing Radovid from the spell. He realized that he had been completely ignoring the woman beside him.

The song was beautiful. There was no other word to describe it. It spoke of heartbreak and longing with such skill that Radovid could almost feel it himself.

Radovid was somewhat more distracted than usual that evening, spending more time thinking about a certain songwriter than any of the politicians and princesses in the room, but given the circumstances, he felt that was excusable.  

~

It was a few months before Radovid heard another song of Jaskier’s. 

He was in another court, visiting some distant relative of his brothers’ wife. He had not paid much attention to the whole thing, preferring to focus on the very handsome steward who had been making eyes at him across the room all evening. 

The band playing announced a new Jaskier song. Radovid perked up. The steward was forgotten. Given how fascinating the bard’s last song had been, he could only imagine what the man had written next.

Then the bard began to sing, her voice sharp, and Radovid’s heart skipped a beat. 

I hear you’re alive How disappointing I’ve also survived No thanks to you

The words were pointed and emphatic. Radovid spared a moment to wonder what had happened to make Jaskier write something like this, but the thought was quickly swept away as he became enraptured in the music. 

The song only grew more vicious and passionate as it went. The band grew louder and more energetic, a man beginning to harmonize with the woman, and they began the chorus. 

What for to yearn? Watch that butcher burn

The singers spit the words like sparks from the fire they sang about. Radovid once again found himself wondering what it would be like to hear Jaskier himself sing this song, because if his imitators could make this so engrossing, he could only imagine what it would sound like in the voice of the man who wrote it. 

Burn, burn, burn, the bards shouted, then slowly grew quiet until the main singer almost spoke the final line. 

Watch me burn all the memories of you, she said, and the band went quiet. 

Radovid let out a shaky breath, his heart pounding. He leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes as the room around him erupted into applause. Jaskier’s songs were always well-written, but this one was full of so much feeling and vulnerability that it rendered him almost speechless. 

This bard, Radovid began to think, had more talent than any other person he had ever met in all his long years of princely escapades. 

~

Several long months went by. Radovid encountered another song of Jaskier’s, one that was played in rowdy taverns and not in courts: a song about prisons and whoresons that never failed to make an audience laugh. At the same time, Her Sweet Kiss and Burn Butcher Burn were played so often in courts and at parties that Radovid soon knew all the words by heart. 

The witcher, he assumed, was the butcher referred to in the song. He had vague memories of hearing servants talk of a white-haired murderer when he was small. He did not know what had happened between Jaskier and his witcher that could make him write something so vicious, though it likely had to do with the woman who had such a sweet kiss, but he found that he wanted to know. 

If there was a small voice in the back of Radovid’s mind whispering that this meant it was no longer likely that the witcher and the bard were together — that it meant the bard was probably available — that was no one’s business but his own. 

When he slipped away from his entourage to stop at a tavern on his way home from yet another party and heard a bard announce that he would sing a new song of Jaskier’s, Radovid sat down with interest. He expected something new about the bard’s relationship with the witcher or perhaps another well-written breakup song. 

It was not a breakup song.

The bard began to sing words of history, oppression, and hope. It sounded strangely grim for the first verse, leaving Radovid just enough time to wonder if Jaskier had been jaded by his heartbreak when the second verse began. 

Forget all they’ve told you, for history’s fine glow Is tarnished by those who don’t want you to know The power of your stories, your songs, and yourselves To take back the land for the dwarves and the elves

Radovid froze. He listened closely, trying to hear every word over the sound of talking and laughter in the tavern. 

Rise, sang the bard, we will rise.

The tune soared with energy and passion. The words told of people and power. Radovid did not know the story spoken of in the song, but somehow he did not doubt that it was true. 

This was no song of love. This was a song of resistance.

At first, Radovid thought this song was unlike anything Jaskier had written before. Then he remembered all the bard’s songs of noble witchers, remembered Toss a Coin itself, and realized he was wrong. This thread of reputation and resistance had been woven through Jaskier’s career from the beginning, so artfully braided that Radovid had hardly noticed its presence until Jaskier chose to make it plain.

A song like this was bold. A song like this was almost unique in recent times. A song like this, right now, was incredibly dangerous. 

Radovid had not truly realized, until that moment, just how much there was to be known about Jaskier. There was so much to be heard in his songs, so much intrigue and intricacy in his life. There was so much the rumors did not encapsulate. There was so much Radovid did not know. 

When the song reached its conclusion, Radovid’s applause was the loudest in the tavern. 

Without ever having seen him, Radovid knew that Jaskier was different from anyone else he had met. He was truly special. 

And, one day, Radovid desperately hoped to learn why. 

~

Radovid could hardly believe that Philippa expected him to stay behind. 

It was laughably easy to follow her, and any inconveniences he encountered were more than made up for by the fact that Philippa — and, by extension, Radovid — were going to meet Jaskier. Radovid had spent so much time thinking of the bard over the decades that the thought of meeting him in person seemed almost surreal. He could hardly wait.  

When he heard a commotion ahead of him, he knew he had found his mark. He rounded a corner and paused, taking in the scene before him. He blinked. 

A man was standing in the street. He was shouting at a woman on a balcony as she threw various articles of clothing in his direction. Philippa lurked nearby.

Radovid watched as the bard shouted at the woman in the window some more, then was accosted by Phillipa. He looked distinctly disheveled and rather comedic. If Radovid had not been certain of the bard’s identity, he would hardly have believed that this was the same man who had written so many songs of such beauty and bravery. The discrepancy only intrigued Radovid more. 

Jaskier was also, undeniably, very handsome. This was significantly less unexpected.

Radovid approached them. Just as he drew close, the woman on the balcony drew out a lute. Jaskier’s emphatic protests did not dissuade her from tossing it into the street— right into Radovid’s waiting arms. 

Jaskier and Philippa both turned to him. He dismissed Philippa and turned to Jaskier.

“I’ve long wanted to see you in person,” he said, trying to restrain his excitement. “Song of the Seven’s my favorite.”

Jaskier did not spare a moment for thought before speaking. “Slightly ironic, but thank you.” He turned to Philippa. “You see? People like me. I’ve got fans.” 

He faced Radovid again. Radovid ran his thumb nervously along the neck of the lute — Jaskier’s lute — in his hands. Jaskier stepped forward with a grin, his hand outstretched to shake. The bard’s calloused fingers were warm against Radovid’s palm. 

“Sorry, I didn’t quite catch your name.”

“Radovid.”

“Right.”

“Comma, prince.”

Jaskier’s eyes went wide and he started to stammer as the realization of whose hand he was holding sunk in. His surprise did nothing to make him less attractive. 

Radovid held back a smile. He was holding the hand of the man he had waited so long to meet. Here, finally, he could look his favorite puzzle in the eye. Jaskier was even more intriguing in person, full of quick wit and humor and cheer that seemed to mask something more serious underneath. 

Radovid did not yet know what made Jaskier tick. He did not know what made him act the way he did, nor what his true motivations were. He did not know what his tells were, his secret cues that would give away where the mask ended and the man began. He did not know what truly made Jaskier and his songs so irresistible. 

There was one thing, though, that he knew without a doubt. It was knowledge that made it hard to focus, that made him want to burst into delighted laughter and grin from ear to ear. 

Radovid knew that now, after all these years of waiting, he finally had the chance to find out. 

[cake-shop-rarepair-bingo]

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[justleaf]

Thought this little event would be a perfect opportunity to get my writing gears started again. Ilu @witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo.

Quite thankfully Iorveth/Roche were under 500 fics when I looked (and contributed HEHEHEH), and I've also sprinkled in 2 other tiny pairings.

Words: 400

Pairings: Iorveth/Roche, Ciri/Cerys, Roche/Ciri

Warnings: Mentions of sex

Tags: Bisexual characters, mentions of a one-night stand, teeny bit of alcoholism and smoking

Prompts used: Mistaken for a couple, Accidental confession of feelings, Reminds me of you, Cuddling/Snuggling

From the drunks at the tavern to Lambert in the dungeon, Vesemir had heard his fair share of rowdy individuals. But the commotion that the two were causing were of a completely different pedigree.

So with a stern expression and his hands on his hips, he marched out into the light of the courtyard.

“Will you two lovebirds quit it?!”

Roche stopped mid-yell and Iorveth stared at him with pure horror.  For a moment Vesemir was taken aback - was he that scary?

“We’re not a couple,” Roche murmured, then swiftly turned heel and left.

Oh.

He had been so sure.

Iorveth cracked his knuckles, more than ready to pick the argument right back up from where that old witcher had cut it short.

He knew where he’d find Vernon - off smoking on the other side of Kaer Morhen, with a bottle of Temerian Rye to stave off his demons.

He slammed the door wide open for the extra theatrics, but when he cast his eye on the d’hoine sat on the moon-drenched balcony, the words died in his throat. His mind felt numb.

“What do you want?” Vernon rasped, his expression lax and the red high on his cheekbones.

“You.”

“There’s one more thing about Kaer Morhen I didn’t tell you about,” Ciri blurted out.

They were laid on Cerys’ generous chaise, empty glasses in hand and emptier bottles of wine strewn about them.

“Sounds scandalous, do tell.”

“I slept with one of Geralt’s friends.”

“No way! Who was he?”

“Vernon Roche, don’t know if you’ve heard of him. He had trouble getting it up and needed a bath, but it was a good time.”

“Good with his hands and mouth, I presume?”

“Certainly. Reminded me of you.”

“I’m sure I can do better.”

Ciri smirked.

“Shall we find out?”

“You’ve slept with Princess Cirilla,” Iorveth brought up one cold spring evening.

“Where did you hear that.”

“The word spread after the Temerian-Nilfgaardian Assembly. Cirilla asked after you, and when Emhyr asked how she was acquainted, she proclaimed: ‘we’ve fucked’.”

Roche sunk into the pillow, consumed by embarrassment.

“Day after we kissed on the balcony. She was interested. I wanted to see if I still liked women.”

“You’re so stupid,” Iorveth chuckled, but wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him closer anyway.

“You still chose me,” Roche grumbled, but tangled their legs together and sunk into his embrace.

[thirstyforred]

@cake-shop-rarepair-bingo

Morrigan & Svalblod for the prompt "I accidentally took your (identical looking) object by mistake"

It wasn’t entirely uncommon for Morrigan’s followers to send her dead beings as offerings. Whether it was humans, monsters, or regular animals, she gladly accepted them all. If asked she would admit that she preferred to receive something more esoteric, like, let's say, one's own eye in exchange for mystic knowledge. It did make up for a better story.

[witcherwheeloftheyear]

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[astaldis]

A most interesting read

@cake-shop-rarepair-bingo​    @witchermonstermayhem​

Prompts: Reading Aloud, Write a fic based on a local legend, Grim giants

Fandom: The Witcher (TV, novels)

Pairings: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & The Hansa | Geralt's Company Members, Maria Barring | Milva & Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Words: 2520

"Cahir, you can read, can't you?" Milva suddenly asks out of the blue while they are sitting by the campfire together. It is a nice evening, not raining for once, and two fat rabbits on spits are roasting over the fire. With a grumpy expression, Geralt is perched on a tree stub across the fire sharpening his sword, as far away from Cahir as possible, nothing new here. Regis is off somewhere in the woods to collect herbs and mushrooms, and Jaskier is busy close by scribbling something into this inevitable scroll of his that he is so secretive about.

"Yes. Why?"

"Because I can't. But I have this book."

"It'll soon be dark, Milva."

"It's a thin book. Will you read it for me? There's still plenty of time before those bunnies are done. Please?"

"It's not a romance, I hope?"

"How would I know? I can't read!"

"Alright, then. We'll see what it is, I suspect."

"Just one moment," Mila says, almost jumping to her feet with excitement. She fishes a little bundle from deep inside her saddlebag. She unwrapps it. A thin, leather bound book emerges, no, more a booklet than a book. Tenderly, she strokes across its binding with the fingers of one hand before she passes it to Cahir.

"It's a children's book," he says, surprised.

"What if it is? My father bought it for me because of the picture. It's the only thing I have to remember him by."

"Didn't you say your father died when you were a kid? You've had the book for years and nobody has ever read it out for you?"

"There was never the time, or the right person. I want it to be special." Cahir raises his eyebrow questioningly. However, Milva does not elaborate.

He opens the booklet. On the first page there is a beautifully crafted, somewhat scary looking illustration. In the centre a horrible giant hurling rocks at frightened people. A devilish face crowned by a pair of pointed horns is peeking out from behind a gnarly oak tree on the left, wiggling its forked tongue at the desperate humans. Not a picture you would expect to see in a tale of love, and neither in a fluffy children's bedtime story. Looks like an exciting legend or heroic adventure. The script is big and easy to read even in the falling twilight of the evening.

"Once upon a time there was an evil giant by the name of Mils," Cahir begins.

Continue reading on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47385469

This is the Mountain called Milseburg after the Giant Mils, it’s about 25 km from where I live. How the mountain came into being is one of the most famous local legends here.

https://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Milseburg

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Milseburg