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wren-of-the-woods · 5 months

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Hello! Thank you so much for what you do- could I please have some recs for geraskier fics where geralt is the one pining harder?

Here you go!! I wasn't sure how to categorize who was pining harder in all of these (since our boys are masters of longing lol) but these are all stories where Geralt loves Jaskier very much, and I highly enjoyed them all!

favorite by @asweetprologue (Rated G, 5.8k)

Jaskier gets Geralt a gift, and it makes Geralt realize he doesn't know enough about what Jaskier likes. He forms a plan to figure it out.

i’ll kiss you slow by @paintedcrayons (Rated T, 4.9k)

Geralt is not being creepy. He’s not. He’s just looking out for his friend (with a questionable choices in lovers). Lately, Geralt has started to notice the way people treat Jaskier’s affection like a means to an end. They kiss him only to move to the next step, dance with him as pretense to get him into their beds. He would like nothing more than to kiss Jaskier for the sake of it. (He does.)

time and time again by @samstree (Rated G, 5.2k)

Marriage proposals, through the years.

The Best Laid Plans by @dhwty-writes (Rated T, 5.5k)

Geralt is in love with Jaskier. In order to finally get him to admit his feelings, he devises a ten step plan with Lambert, Eskel and Vesemir.

A Friend in the Wild by @samstree (Rated G, 1.6k)

In which Geralt acquires a tiny friend who wouldn't stop following him.

Weak and Wanting by @sociallyawkward--fics (Rated T, 36k)

Geralt had thought that inviting Jaskier to Kaer Morhen after all these years would be a good thing. What he didn't plan on was his brothers deciding to have a little fun with their situation. Lambert and Eskel really needed to stop meddling in things they didn't understand, especially when it came to his bard.

Tell It With Your Heart by @bambirex (Rated G, 2.5k)

While Jaskier always says what's on his mind, Geralt works a little differently. That doesn't mean he cannot tell Jaskier how he feels - he just does that without words.

Repeat After Me by @onwardorange (Rated G, 7.3k)

All it takes is (nearly) three years, two meddlesome brothers, and one exasperated sorceress to get Geralt to admit his feelings for Jaskier.

Love Me Better, Send A Letter by @rebrandedbard (Rated T, 12.5k)

Geralt and Julian have been exchanging letters since participating in an inter-school pen pal program in high school, and Geralt has been pining away for Julian for over a decade since meeting by chance one faithful day in Posada. Between work and Ciri, he hasn't had much time for travelling, but he and Julian still exchange their letters faithfully. Finally, Julian's equally busy life coincides with Geralt's long enough for a short visit, and Geralt has the chance to finally introduce Ciri to the man she knows only on paper. Things would be perfect ... if Julian's visit didn't fall within the week of the concert of Ciri's favorite musician, Jaskier.

Music is no solution by @thecrownprincessbride (Rated T, 4.3k)

Jaskier has self-doubts, and Geralt is there for him.

A Careless Omission by @samstree (Rated T, 5.4k)

Jaskier reveals he has a type. Geralt behaves strangely.

Highway Angel (To the Dark I Said Pour and Forgot to Say When) by @fangirleaconmigo T, 2.8k

Geralt is a long haul truck driver. With long stretches on the road away from his family, and with no one to keep him company but his loyal dog Roach, he has to brave most of his life completely alone. Then one day, just as he is passing the city of Oxenfurt, he turns on the radio and hears a voice.

zero for ten by @yaelathewordsmith (Rated T, 10.4k)

The blue-eyed boy on the school's cricket team seems determined to bowl Geralt out. The worst part is, he isn't even fucking trying. * Or, the ten times Jaskier held Geralt's heart in his hands without knowing, and how Geralt grew to want him to keep it.

(You can find my other reclists here!)

#geraskier #the witcher #geralt #jaskier #geralt x jaskier #witcher #twn #wren recs #these are the ones i found searching my bookmarks but i'm sure there are many other good ones! so recs in the notes are highly welcome #it looks like there's a pining geralt tag so you could check that out too if you want #also i only noticed after i put this together that samstree is on it three times #you're the master of geralt pining jin XD #some of these probably appear on my other lists too but they fit the category so here you go!#thank you for this ask by the way!! i'd forgoten how much fun reclists are!#and i'm happy you thought of me <3 #reclists

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shy-urban-hobbit · 4 months

Text

"Whatcha doing, bard?"

Jaskier startled slightly when Aiden plopped down beside him next to the fire, eyes bright with the beginnings of drunkenness as he offered the wine he was holding. Jaskier took a swig straight from the bottle, choking a little in surprise. After the roughness of the various homebrews and the wines that had been aging in the cellar for possible decades it was sweeter than he expected. Definitely Southern.

"Just thinking. You?"

The Cat let out a dramatic sigh, leaning against Jaskier, "Lambert's ignoring me and it's making me sad."

"Oh, come on. I'm sure he's not."

"Oh?" Aiden cocked an eyebrow before taking a deep inhale, "Hey, Lambert!" He called over to where Lambert was deep in conversation with his brothers (and had been all night). "I'm not wearing any underthings and I fingered myself stupid while thinking of you earlier!"

"Yeah, that's fine Kitten." Lambert answered with a dismissive wave of his hand without even looking over as if Aiden had just told him that he was going to go grab more booze.

Aiden smirked at Jaskier as if to say 'see?', "And from the look on your face you know exactly what I'm talking about, no?"

Now it was Jaskier's turn to fill his lungs, "Oh Geralt!" He singsonged, "I just spilled sweet dessert wine all over my naked body. Want to help me get cleaned up? I'm so sticky and messy!"

Geralt gave one of his classic, non-committal grunts in response.

"Oh, sweet Gods." Jaskier took another angry mouthful before thrusting the bottle into Aiden's chest, ignoring the Witchers chuckle, "I understand he wants to spend time with his brothers but we haven't had any alone time for two weeks! He's either involved in some group activity or we're both too tired after training or chores."

"Hmm."'Aiden hummed in agreement, taking a deep swallow of the wine, "As much as I like Geralt and Eskel and how close they all are, there's certain activities I don't want them involved in." His expression turned devilish, "Want to do something about it?"

"...I'm listening."

Aiden crooked his finger in a beckoning gesture, prompting Jaskier to lean in closer so he could whisper in his ear as if the other Witchers in the room were actually paying attention to them.

"Fucking Hell!"

When he'd decided to call it a night and join Aiden in bed, the last thing Lambert had been expecting was to stumble on his Cat and Geralt's bard locked in a heated kiss at the top of the stairs, Jaskier's hands leisurely roaming over Aiden's back, whimpering when the Witcher moved his attentions from the bard's mouth to his throat. It was only when Geralt's telltale growl reached his ears he lifted his head, languidly turning to look at the two unsuspecting voyuers. Both Wolves looked an entertaining combination of aroused and annoyed. Mostly aroused.

Aiden purred internally. Perfect.

"Well, this is what happens when you forget about us." He said with an exaggerated pout, which Jaskier matched as he wrapped his arms around Aiden's neck, attempting to give Geralt his most pathetic look.

"I've never felt so neglected in my life." He whined, something Geralt knew definitely wasn't true but he decided to play along once he realised neither Jaskier or Aiden smelt even vaguely of arousal, despite their previous position.

"Oh, don't worry Lark." He growled as he stalked forwards, Aiden having the forethought to hurriedly disentangle himself, "I'm about to make sure you're very well taken care of."

Jaskier gave a yelp of surprise which turned into a laugh as Geralt threw him over his shoulder before stalking away towards his room. Jaskier grinned widely as he threw a salute to Aiden before they disappeared around the corner.

Before he realised what was happening, he found himself in Jaskier's previous position. Boxed in against the stone wall with Lambert's chest pressed against his, "That was your idea, wasn't it?"

It wasn't really a question and it was pointless to try and lie, "Yes." Aiden said, meeting Lambert's gaze, gasping in surprise when the Wolf ducked his head and started nuzzling at his neck.

"And you honestly feel the same?"

"...Yes."

Lambert let out a rumble, the meaning of which Aiden couldn't quite discern as he nipped at Aiden's pulse.

"So." Aiden prompted, squirming a little, "You going to make it up to me, or punish me?"

"Depends. How serious were you being about the no underthings?"

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on-a-lucky-tide · 4 months

Text

A young, horny Lambert sets his sights on an older hunk of Witcher beef. CW: age gap, flirtation.

"I'm going for it."

"Lambert, don't be a fucking idiot. They'll laugh at you."

"They might, but he won't. You miss all the chances you don't take, right?"

"Your funeral."

Lambert licked his lips and smoothed his hair back as he stood. He hadn't torn his eyes away from his mark for a single second since said man had swaggered into the hall a few hours before. This was the winter he'd do it. He was a man himself now, which meant he had every chance of bagging himself the hunk of good-lookin' he'd been coveting from the moment his dick had started getting hard at night and hair had appeared on his jaw.

Eskel.

It wasn't just that Eskel had two decades on Lambert or that he was becoming a seasoned witcher. No other Witcher in the keep compared. Sure, some tried. They might step toe to toe during drills or try to outflame Eskel's igni, but they never could. The only one that outmatched Eskel was his pale shadow, Geralt. They even looked a little similar. But cream puff was a fucking bean pole of a man, and that shitty headband...

N'aw, Lambert wanted big. He wanted heat, and honey eyes, and that thatch of dark hair he'd seen on Eskel's barrelled chest in the baths, and that huge fucking d--

"You lost, Lambert?"

Lambert blinked. Gweld, the ginger prick, was frowning at him, ale tankard halfway up to his mouth. The others had paused their card game; Clovis looked drunk, Geralt was slouched back trying to see Clovis' hand and Eskel was watching Lambert speculatively.

Watching, with those honey-coloured eyes that turned Lambert inside out. The words caught in Lambert's throat; shit, fuck, why was he so fuckin' stupid the moment Eskel looked at him?

He took a breath, conscious of Clovis elbowing Gweld with a chuckle, while Geralt looked over with a smirk.

Lambert found his words. He folded his arms, thrust his chest out, widened his stance and put on his best cocky smirk. "Was just wonderin' whether Eskel wanted some better company. You losers can't handle your beer at the best of times."

They laughed. Gweld elbowed Eskel who cocked a half smile, eyes rolling not at Lambert, but his friends, proving Lambert's point. Obviously.

"Is that right?" Geralt asked, amusement turning his narrow face bright with a toothy grin. Lambert had been told that as witchers matured they honed their sense of smell, could identify a man's emotions from his body language, the flush in his skin. Lambert knew Geralt had him sussed. "And what kinda company are you offering?"

"Geralt..." Eskel growled in warning, and it went straight to Lambert's groin. Fucking hells.

"Whatever he wants. I'm a man of many talents."

More laughter--"little man has game, shit; fuck, I'm chokin, too funny"--but Lambert wasn't put off. Eskel's eyes were on him, warming him like the sun. The lines around those eyes were wrinkled with mirth, and damn if that smile wasn't snatching the breath right out of Lambert's chest.

"Does your master know you're out?" Eskel asked, placing his cards face down. He leaned back in his chair and slung his elbow onto the back of it, knee turned out while a hand tapped at his drink.

Lambert tried to keep his eyes level and resist the urge to... look. Eskel's codpiece put on an absolutely fucking heroic effort, but it could only hide so much and that was when Eskel was soft. "What he don't know can't hurt him. No business of his who else is in my bed as long as I am."

Eskel pressed his lips together to smother his smile while the others guffawed. More was said but Lambert didn't really hear; he was too focused on keeping his heart from beating out his chest and appearing suave.

Eskel hummed. "Aren't you a little young to be lookin' for that kinda fun?"

"Worried you won't be able to keep up, old man?" Lambert felt momentum. He could do snark, he could meet Eskel on this well worn ground, toe to toe, and the way Eskel's head tilted to the side and his eyebrow rose. It wasn't a no, right? He looked interested. Amused, but he didn't dismiss Lambert outright.

Gweld slapped Eskel on the shoulder with a bark. "Eskel here's got stories that'd make your balls shrivel up into yer belly, lad. I don't think he's a good choice for yer first ride, best drop your ambitions."

"Fuck off, Gweld," Eskel said, but there was no heat to his words. Just wry amusement.

Geralt snorted into his drink and Clovis made a vulgar gesture with his hand, but before Lambert could respond a familiar voice barked through the hall and sucked all the building sexual tension into a vacuum. "Lambert, get your arse to bed, you missed roll call!"

Lambert clenched his teeth, shoulders lifting towards his ears. For fuck's sake...

Three of the witchers in front of him groaned in mock empathy. "Oof, tough break, Lambino. Cock blocked by Vesemir," Gweld said, shaking his head while Geralt and Clovis snickered. "Don't worry, we've all been there. Ain't that right, Gerbear?"

Geralt guffawed in protest and smacked Gweld on the shoulder. It quickly devolved into a wrestling match on the floor, one which Gweld was definitely going to lose. Eskel watched them briefly before he looked back at Lambert. "Another time perhaps," he said, toasting Lambert with his ale. "G'wan, before he decides the target dummies are a little light on straw."

Lambert grunted, frustrated, but stalked away. He'd made inroads, and the way Eskel's eyes had shone, and that crooked grin. Eskel hadn't outright rejected him, hells, he'd--well, that smile... Eskel didn't smile at everyone like that.

Lambert laid in bed with that smile behind his eyes and a hand under the sheets, determined that it would be Eskel's instead of his own by winter's end.

#the witcher #tw3 #witcher eskel #witcher lambert #if you know what song inspired this you know

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echo-bleu · 2 years

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Okay but. Geralt with auditory processing issues.

The mutations wreck havok on the senses. Sure, they make his hearing range incredible, but they don’t help with the processing, and he’s constantly hearing everything at once. It’s worse for Geralt than the other witchers because he’s had the Grasses twice. (Or because he’s autistic, duh.)

It’s half the reason he communicates so much with grunts, because most of the time he’s only got half of what the other person said and he just lets them interpret his grunts however they want.

And sure, he’s heard Jaskier sing so many times in taverns and courts and his songs are catchy enough, but he’s never actually managed to catch the lyrics. It’s just all gibberish to him. As soon as there’s the lute, and noise, and they’re in a city or a town so there’s people around, he just doesn’t understand any of it. It doesn’t make his “fillingless pie” comment any less insensitive, but it does give it some context.

Every winter the other witchers will make comments about the songs they’ve heard on the Path, about this or that adventure, and Geralt is just like. That. That’s what the song was about. Oh. Eskel isn’t great at auditory processing either but he’ll ask the bards to play over and over until he’s got most of it, and since they’re songs about witchers, the bards usually comply. It’s nice to hear good news of his brother. Then he’ll tease Geralt mercilessly all winter about it. That’s the only reason Geralt even knows so much of what Jaskier sings.

However, he likes hearing snatches of song while Jaskier’s composing, when they’re camping out in the open or in a forest and there isn’t too much noise around. Then he can actually understand the words, sometimes.

He’s very, very good at pretending he can hear just fine, and he’s been doing for so long, but he does feel a little guilty about making Jaskier think he doesn’t like his music. He just doesn’t know how to explain, doesn’t think Jaskier could get it, because no one ever has. Then while they’re all in Kaer Morhen after the mess with Voleth Meir, the other witchers start asking Jaskier to sing, even though he doesn’t have a lute. They’re all completely quiet during his performances, and every time Ciri or Yen or anyone makes a noise and they miss a line, Eskel will ask Jaskier to start over. (Eskel isn’t dead, obviously.)

And one day Geralt finds Jaskier hunched over a desk, with a pile of parchment beside him and his notebook open in front of him, frantically copying something.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“I’m making copies of my songs,” Jaskier answers. “I’ve actually published the whole songbook in Oxenfurt, you know, but we can’t get it here, and Eskel said that having the lyrics would help, so I’m trying to make enough for everyone.”

Geralt’s mind is boggled because yes, having the lyrics written down would help immensely but he would never have thought to ask, let alone that Jaskier might actually be willing to write them down for him, and what’s that about a songbook? He almost just grunts and leaves him to it, but he remembers that he promised himself to at least try to communicate better with Jaskier after the mountain, so he asks in a very small voice, “Can I have one?”

And Jaskier’s jaw hangs slack for a moment before he coughs and hands him a stack of parchment. “I wasn’t sure you’d want it,” he mutters almost to himself.

“I always want to know what you’re singing,” Geralt says.

Jaskier’s eyes are wide and shining when he hugs Geralt, and his voice cracks a little. “I wish I’d realized sooner that you couldn’t hear it.”

That night he sings his entire song cycle a capella in front of the fire, his eyes boring into Geralt the entire time, as Geralt follows the lyrics along for the first time.

And Jaskier’s songs are really fucking good, actually. Geralt is hardly an expert, but he can see the way he bends and stretches language to make it flow and how he weaves the stories together and he can feel the love in how Jaskier sings about him, about them, and---

Is that what he’s been missing this whole time?

Brought to you by: the long-ass time it took me to get into The Amazing Devil’s wonderful music because I couldn’t fucking hear the words until I sat down and listened to every song while following along with the written lyrics.

#the witcher #jaskier #geralt of rivia #geraskier #echo's fanfiction #sort of

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aramblingjay · 11 months

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After summers of fasting I feel hunger at last Geraskier, touch-starved, bed sharing (2K)

They meet that spring. And the one after, and the one after, and the one after, until it’s six winters later and Geralt leads Roach down the trail from Kaer Morhen with his saddlebags stocked full of human-safe potions and spare lute strings and a bright maroon doublet too small to have the faintest hope of fitting him.

ao3

The first winter he returns to Kaer Morhen, Geralt is asked to describe Jaskier.

“We hear you’ve started traveling with a companion,” Eskel says over dinner. Lambert and Coën go a little too still in the corner to not be listening, and even Vesemir subtly turns his head in their direction—everyone’s been wondering, evidently, and Eskel has been chosen as the best person to pose the question.

“Yes,” he agrees, taking another bite of whatever it is Lambert has decided to pass off as dinner. Some kind of meat, perhaps? It powders in his mouth like chalk.

To his credit, Eskel doesn’t ask who the companion is. “What are they like?” he asks instead, and Geralt doesn’t miss the they. It protects him implicitly the way Eskel always has, assuming nothing, allowing him to reveal exactly as much or as little as he wants, and Geralt is reminded all over again why he’s never been able to deny Eskel anything.

Including this, so he tries to find the right words. It was never his strength, even back when he still had red hair and brown eyes and knew of Witchers only as a fiction told to scare disobedient kids, but it’s even harder now.

“He’s—”

The first description which comes to mind is loud, but that isn’t quite right. Jaskier is loud only in the sense that Geralt is always aware of his presence, a whisper of citrus and jasmine beside him. And he hums incessantly, sometimes accompanied by the twang of his lute, sometimes not—but it isn’t the kind of overbearing, obtrusive singing that loud would suggest. Jaskier’s music is just there, a constant background, as familiar to him now as the chirping of birds and rustling of leaves in the wind.

He’s a bard, Geralt considers saying, but that doesn’t capture the essence of Jaskier, almost suggests he’s nothing without a tune on his lips.

He’s brave. Certainly, he’s the first human Geralt’s met that has never, not once, smelled like fear around him, even when Geralt’s eyes are inky black and he’s more monster than man. But Geralt doesn’t know if that’s bravery or foolhardy, and besides, true bravery is to run toward that which you fear. To not feel the fear at all—that’s something else entirely.

He’s different. True. Not nearly enough to explain.

“He’s kind,” Geralt says finally, and it feels right. There is no kindness to be found here at Kaer Morhen—even Eskel, for all his protectiveness, is not kind. No Witchers are, no Witchers are allowed to be. But Jaskier is the opposite of a Witcher, vivacious like no one Geralt has ever known before, impulsive and free-spirited and wholly kind.

Eskel’s eyes go strangely soft. “Oh, Wolf,” he murmurs, so low only a Witcher could hear.

Geralt looks away. “Anyway, I doubt I will see him again come spring.”

It’s not a lie. Jaskier has undoubtedly moved on to pastures new, wintering in Oxenfurt or Lettenhove or some other place that Witchers wouldn’t set foot, somewhere bright and lively to keep the chill at bay. The chance that their paths will randomly cross again once Geralt comes down the trail in a few months’ time is slim, and he doesn’t expect Jaskier to wait for him either. Jaskier is kind, but not infinitely so, and surely spending another year on the Path beside a Witcher who grunts more than speaks is the last thing he wants.

It’s not a lie, but the words taste bitter on his tongue anyway.

They do meet that spring. And the one after, and the one after, and the one after, until it’s six winters later and Geralt leads Roach down the trail from Kaer Morhen with his saddlebags stocked full of human-safe potions and spare lute strings and a bright maroon doublet too small to have the faintest hope of fitting him.

Geralt dismounts Roach outside The Wolf’s Snout, a grimy-looking inn with a half-broken fence surrounding it, five days’ trek from the bottom of the trail. It is further than he usually travels before stopping—the Kaedweni innkeepers closer to Kaer Morhen are more used to Witchers popping in than those this far out.

(But Jaskier mentioned this inn to him last year, so. Here he is)

He has yet to meet Jaskier in the same inn twice, but somehow they always find each other in one establishment or another on the outskirts of Kaedwen. Geralt no longer doubts whether their paths will cross, the question is only when.

Though he knows Jaskier tends to winter close to the coast, he does not ask how or why Jaskier ends up in Kaedwen every spring. Such a gift is too precious to jeopardize, either by his clumsy questioning or his even clumsier acknowledgment.

Geralt steps inside the inn to a raucous dining area, every available table surrounded by men with red cheeks and loud voices, clearly well on the ale. A good bard would make a pretty coin or two here, he thinks idly, and wonders if that’s why Jaskier mentioned it.

The innkeeper is a short, wiry woman with sharp eyes that rake him from top to bottom as he approaches her.

“Room for the night?” he asks, careful to speak just loud enough to be heard over the din. The innkeeper will know, of course, but nobody else seems to have clocked that he’s a Witcher, and the longer he keeps it that way the smoother his stay will be.

“I won’t be having any trouble here tonight,” she says, but her voice isn’t hostile.

“I won’t give you any.”

A corner of her mouth lifts. “And payment up front. How many nights you staying?”

Several coppers lighter, Geralt ends up in a rather spacious room at the very end of the hall, complete with a bed large enough for two (or one broad Witcher), a second small bed pushed up against a window, a fireplace, and a round tub. The main bed even comes with a feather-padded blanket for warmth. Compared to his usual accommodations, it’s a veritable palace.

He scowls, and dumps his saddlebags in a corner. All this luxury is largely wasted on him, and does little to fill the hollow in his chest that has only grown with every step away from Kaer Morhen.

There’s not much to do here besides take in the finery and rest, so he casts Igni to light a fire and settles into the bed rather quickly. Some dinner would be nice, perhaps, but everything smelled a little too salted and seasoned downstairs—normally he can stomach just about anything, but several months of pampering over winter have narrowed his palette considerably, and it’ll take at least a few weeks time to remember how not to give a fuck again.

Sleep finds him almost immediately after that. It should be one of the most comfortable nights he’s had outside the keep in recent memory, but the emptiness of the room aches in his chest like a physical, tangible thing.

He wakes to citrus and jasmine and a voice he would know anywhere.

“She told me you were in—ah, Geralt. Here you are. Lovely to see you again after a long winter.” Jaskier steps further into the room until he’s fully illuminated by the firelight. He looks good, Geralt surmises, well-fed and looked-after. “Don’t mind me. Coin is short and this room is entirely paid for, so I’ll be here for the night.”

It’s phrased as a statement but intended as a question.

Geralt just grunts his assent and drifts back to sleep smiling.

They fall into the familiar routine just as they have every year before. It’s comfortable, safe, easy.

Geralt kills monsters and Jaskier sings about it.

Jaskier sleeps with fine ladies (and more than one fine lord), and Geralt scares away their angry spouses with a well-placed intimidating look.

Geralt keeps them safe, and Jaskier keeps them fed, the coin he earns from one night of performing usually triple what Geralt could even hope to earn from a single contract.

Jaskier smiles at him and worries after him and touches him with a care no one’s taken since he was a boy, and Geralt tries to understand what it all means.

The ache in his chest is an old, forgotten thing.

Their seventh spring, he once again stops at The Wolf’s Snout.

(He’s never waited in the same inn twice before, until now, but he refuses to consider what that might mean)

This time, he’s awake. Waiting up, one could call it, though the very idea is preposterous—Witchers don’t have anyone worth waiting up for, and the chance to sleep in a bed is a precious commodity on the Path. No one is coming home to a Witcher.

But then there’s a lyrical knock at the door—two taps, and then a faster three, the beat of a song he doesn’t know—and Jaskier is there. Framed in the doorway, dressed from head to toe in bright blue and green that should irritate his eyes but doesn’t, not in the slightest, only makes something loosen in his chest that’s been taut for too long.

Jaskier is there. Here. With him, again, for the seventh spring in a row, despite it all.

“You’re awake,” Jaskier says, and his voice is missing some of its usual brightness, its usual whimsical nonchalance, but it’s so good to hear all the same.

“Hmm.”

And Jaskier shouldn’t be able to read what that means, just like he shouldn’t be here in a beaten-down inn along the forgotten backwater of Kaedwen about to step into a room already occupied by a Witcher, but Jaskier is brave and different and kind and entirely incapable of ever doing what he should.

So of course, Jaskier only says, “Yeah, me too,” like he hears the words Geralt doesn’t even know how to form in the privacy of his own mind, and steps over the threshold.

It feels significant, somehow. A bigger step than across a single plank of wood.

He stays silent, watching as Jaskier drops his bags in a heap by the door and undresses down to his smalls in the half-darkness.

There’s only one bed in this room. Geralt asked for a room and the innkeeper offered this one and he didn’t spend more than a second thinking about it before accepting. Witchers can’t be picky, and Jaskier has slept on the floor many a time—they both have, on cold and dirty forest floors far more uncomfortable than anything this inn could offer.

But.

“What are we doing here, Geralt?” Jaskier asks softly, hovering by the edge of the bed but making no move to come closer.

Geralt doesn’t have an answer. But he shifts just slightly on the bed, an invitation—and Jaskier lies down in the open space next to him, no trace of fear anywhere in his scent even now—and for the first time since the mutagens burned away every part of the boy he used to be, Geralt wants.

The next year, Jaskier doesn’t come.

Geralt waits at The Wolf’s Snout for a fortnight, until he can’t delay going back on the Path any longer, and then another day just to be totally, completely sure.

Jaskier never comes.

He packs up his things, never considers leaving behind the human-safe potions or the lute strings or the too-small doublet even though they add weight to Roach’s pack—just shoves it all into the bottom of his satchel along with his emotions and his hopes and the weird sense of betrayal he has no right to feel, and walks the Path.

Alone, as he was meant to.

The ache is back, a monster under his skin. He feels cold and tired and empty, but a Witcher isn’t made to break, so he puts one foot in front of the other in front of the other until it’s winter again.

He collapses into Eskel’s arms the moment he’s back in the keep, grateful to still have one person who hasn’t left, and his eyes burn.

If he could cry—he can’t, so it doesn’t matter. But if he could, he would probably drown.

It’s foolishness, to go back to the same inn. It’s foolishness, and Geralt is not a fool, but he can’t help himself.

Just to be sure. Just to be absolutely certain Jaskier has left this life, left him, and then he’ll walk the Path and never ever return here again.

But he opens the door to his preferred room, an extra three coppers per night now but worth it just for the memory of having slept beside Jaskier in this bed, and it isn’t empty.

Jaskier is there.

His hair is longer. He’s dressed in deep maroon, and there are bags under his eyes like he hasn’t slept in days, and he smells like he hasn’t showered since he left wherever he’s been for so long—and he’s the most beautiful thing Geralt has ever seen.

“Hi,” Jaskier says, tentatively, like he’s not sure if he’ll be welcome. Like Geralt hasn’t spent the last year withering away at the prospect of never seeing him again.

“Jaskier.” He can’t find any other words. He can’t think of any that matter more than this, saying a name he thought he’d have to bury in the deepest corner of his mind forever, lest the mere memory of it reduce him to dust.

“Sorry I wasn’t here last year. It’s a long story involving—”

“Come here,” Geralt whispers, cutting him off. His voice breaks, but it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter, all that matters is Jaskier standing on the other side of the room. “Please.” Witchers don’t beg but he isn’t a Witcher in this moment, just a man, old and weary and aching. “Please.”

“Oh, Geralt.” Jaskier is front of him in a flash. “Darling, I’m right here. I’m right here, I promise.”

That familiar hand reaches out and rests on his chest—he feels it, the slightest pressure when those long fingers brush against his tunic, the searing warmth of Jaskier’s skin on his own even with two layers of cotton in between.

Citrus and jasmine, the jackrabbit beat of Jaskier’s heart, and that soft, gentle warmth—Geralt closes his eyes and comes home.

#the witcher #geraskier #geraskier fic #geralt of rivia #jaskier #*fic #*writing #apparently the trailer inspired me and now i’m doing a bunch of geraskier writing?

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procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics · 8 months

Text

Ribs

summary: You're not from the world where the Witcher takes place. So, to stay alive, you stay glued to your witcher - Eskel. Catching feelings for him was bound to happen anyway. Right?

Maybe a tiny, life-threatening encounter with a leshy is just the little push the both of you need.

notes: The title is inspired by the song ‘Ribs’ by Lorde, specifically the lyrics ‘And we’ll never go home again.’ Maybe a little more angsty than you expected, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless!! I tried to combine both asks into one

tagged: @majesticwren @obsessiveformiyatwins @levithestripper @cookielovesbook-akie @lu-in-the-library @sunndust @ghostcatwhiskers (msg me to be added/removed to any!)

masterlist | based on this request

Eskel had been in the middle of a forest when, almost instantaneously, a figure appeared in front of him. Expecting a sorcerer, Eskel felt his hand grip onto his sword. Just in case.

Instead, he was met with a person that looked so utterly lost and afraid that Eskel knew this was something completely out of the ordinary, and no attack. The next thing he noted is that, when looking at his eyes, this person in front of him was utterly confused.

Without a single word being spoken, Eskel knew that you neither knew where you were, or what a Witcher was. Geralt or Vesemir would have asked for an explanation, but Eskel, stupidly emotional as he was (no matter what people thought about emotions and Witchers) felt something tug at his heart.

He could have left you in the forest, to be devoured by wolves or monsters. He could have left you in the next town, to be ripped apart by the people there. He should have, probably. Instead, Eskel took you with him, on the path.

Perhaps, his reasons weren’t entirely selfless. As he got to know you, Eskel became used to your company, your lack of prejudice. Your warmth, so freely given.

The more he taught you about his world, the more you told him about yours, and Eskel knew that. It made him feel better about keeping you with him, but he knew that, regardless, he should not be falling for you.

***

You held onto Eskel as his horse, Scorpion, began the climb towards Kaer Morhen. The fight against the Leshy had been equally terrifying for you and exhausting for him, and you tried to hold him from slumping forwards too much.

“Are you okay?” you asked him quietly. He nodded. “I am, you’re not. Your heart is beating too quickly.” He replied.

“I hate when you do that.” You shuddered. “Makes me feel like you can read my mind.”

Like you can tell my heart beats faster when you look at me.

“I can only hear your heart, and I’m afraid I cannot change anything about that.” Eskel said. “Why are you afraid?”

You sighed. “Just nervous. I’m practically meeting your family and I don’t even know… should I bow? Or curtsy? I don’t even know how to do that.”

Eskel laughed, shaking his head. He turned to look back at you, and you prayed your heart did not beat faster.

“They will like you.” He assured, before clicking his tongue. Scorpion sped up into a trot, and in the distance, you could see the outlines of what had to be Kaer Morhen. Unlike the few other castles you had seen, this one looked a little bit more like the ones back home.

It was almost in ruins.

As Scorpion walked into the courtyard, Eskel slipped off the horse, before helping you. Your feet hadn’t touched the ground since the Leshy. Eskel hadn’t wanted to stop, had insisted on riding to Kaer Morhen, where you would be safe, and you could feel the consequences of that in your legs now.

“Sore?” Eskel asked, and you nodded. He sighed, taking the bag you had slung over your shoulder to sling over his own. He tried to hide the wince, and failed miserably. If you’d asked him to take the bag, he would have refused, and one look at it was enough to confirm your thoughts. Eskel shook his head.

After he had put Scorpion away, he turned to you. A reassuring squeeze of hands from him had the opposite effect for you. His thumb stroked over the small scar on your left hand, one that you had gotten from hurting yourself early into your time on the Continent. Eskel had fixed it up.

You remembered how he had looked up at you, taken his time to soothe such a small injury while his entire thigh had been bandaged with soaked linen at the same time, crimson red. You thought that that was the moment you fell in love.

Eskel cleared his throat, already a few steps away from you, and you jogged to catch up, nervously laughing. As he opened the doors to Kaer Morhen you took a deep breath, rolled back your shoulders, and exhaled.

At the sight of his brothers, Eskel seemed to relax, laughing happily. The others cheered, and a man with white hair, presumably Geralt, got up to hug him. You stayed where you were, a few paces behind Eskel, wringing your hands as you waited for them to notice you.

Your eyes went over the men there. You thought you recognized Lambert, Coen and Vesemir, but the girl sitting at one of the tables made you pause. She couldn’t be older than 16. What was she doing here?

A wolf whistle ripped you from your thoughts, and you wanted to disappear.

“Eskel!” one of the witchers exclaimed teasingly. “Who is this?”

“A friend.” Eskel said. Oh how that stung. “Vesemir, we must speak.”

“Meeting the in-laws already.” Lambert shouted, and a ripple of laughs went through the men present. You made to follow Eskel, but he stopped you.

“You should stay while I speak with him. He may not be open to… what you are.”

Ouch.

You nodded, watching as Eskel, your only anker in this place, slipped away. Now, all eyes were on you, standing in the entrance, so obviously out of place. Even the girl that sat at one of the long tables stared.

Your skin prickled under their stares, and you gave a nervous smile that made you feel like an idiot. “Hello.” You said, your voice coming out rough, the tone weird, second half of it garbled. Good god, why did this always happen to you?

A few greetings were murmured back to you, and to your relief, many of the Witchers in front of you soon turned back to their conversations. You needed to do something. You couldn’t just stand there and look stupid.

Talk to a Witcher or a teenage girl? Witcher or teenage girl. Neither seemed like the lesser evil, both were incredibly fucking scary. But, the teenage girl seemed just as awkwardly alone as you, so you slipped over to her, sitting down on the bench.

“You look shaken.” She said after a few moments.

You laughed dryly, half out of relief, half out of the fact that you were incredibly shaken. The monsters here were terrifying, and that Leshy? You could still see the moment it had snaked a branch around your ankle, pulling you towards it, playing in your mind.

“All credit goes to the Leshy.” You replied. At that, a hush fell over the hall. Had you said something wrong? Witchers and their goddamn hearing.

The one with the white hair, or, probably, Geralt, turned towards you abruptly. “A Leshy?” he asked.

You nodded slowly. “That’s what Eskel said.”

The teenage girl next to you was no help, only shrugging when you looked at her. Geralt did not respond to you, even if his question had been urgent, leaving you dangling on a precipice of anxiety again.

You told them your name to fill the silence, trying to sound casually, pushing in a quick ‘by the way’ at the end. Finally, someone picked up on something you were saying.

“I’m Ciri.” The girl said. “Geralt’s child surprise.”

“That’s how children usually work.” You snorted, which caused some laughter from the people present, and a brooding stare from Geralt. Did he have some kind of stick up his ass?

“We’re not related.” He said, his voice clipped. He stared at you, and you felt like Geralt could see right through you, sniff you out like a dog.

“Then what’s a child surprise?” you asked. Immediately, you wanted to take your question back. You should have reserved that for Eskel, who knew. He would have understood. Instead, you were barked at by the man named Lambert.

“Have you been living under a rock for the past thousand years?” he asked, and you felt yourself crumble on the inside. However, no explanation followed his question, and all you could do was guess.

What the fuck was a child surprise? Did Witchers adopt? Did people sometimes have to pick up kids along the way? Was it a family heirloom type of thing?

You grabbed for the pitcher with ale, grateful when Ciri handed you an empty cup. Still, when you took a sip, you felt your lips purse. No matter how much ale you drank, you’d never get over the taste of it.

As time ticked on, and Eskel still did not return, you could feel worry imbue itself in your gut. Your knee began to bounce, nails digging into the palms of her hands. Most of the Witchers were gone. Geralt had taken Ciri with him, and the ones named Lambert and Coen were sitting in another corner, playing some kind of game and drinking. You felt a shiver go down your spine, and suddenly, you felt utterly alone.

The dress you were wearing had been bought by Eskel, and it was good. It fit well, the color was a beautiful deep blue, and it was comfortable. But it was nothing you’d have worn back home. Quietly, you drew your knees up to your chest.

If you had a clock, you’d have heard it tick, making the passing of time even more obvious.

At the sound of people approaching, you lifted your head from your knees. You’d almost fallen asleep, and the sudden noise had ripped you out of it. There, at the entrance of the hall, stood Eskel, together with Vesemir.

A relieved smile began to spread across your face, before you remembered what Eskel had said. He may not be open to… what you are.

As Vesemir approached you, the feeling in your gut tightened, anxiety making you shiver again. As Vesemir opened his mouth to speak, you saw Eskel behind him, deathly pale, and a feverish coat of sweat covering his forehead.

“You’re not okay.” You said, pushing off the bench and past Vesemir. Scary old Witchers be damned, Eskel wasn’t doing fine.

“Leshy wasn’t uh… a proper Leshy.” Eskel replied. When he took an idle step forward, you slung his uninjured shoulder around yours, ignoring that he was much too heavy for you to actually help.

Vesemir cleared his voice, and you steeled yourself to argue with Eskel’s adoptive father. “I think it better if we continued this on the morrow.” He said, handing you Eskel’s pack. With some effort, you managed to pick it up, pointedly ignoring Eskel’s grunt of protest.

“Anything else?” you asked Vesemir carefully.

“Make sure he gets his rest, stubborn as he is.” He replied. “Wake the entire keep if something’s wrong.”

You nodded, forcing yourself to swallow your fear.

Even in his delirium, Eskel helped you, directing you towards a small room. With the few skills you’d picked up from him, you managed to stoke the flames in the fireplace, lighting the candle next to the small cot with it. Searching through the pack, you picked out a blanket, preparing to get comfortable in the chair.

As you heard the bed creak behind you, you whirled around.

“Where am I?” Eskel asked you, looking utterly lost.

You sighed, sitting down on the bed next to him. “Kaer Morhen. You…”

“The Leshy?” Eskel asked. That much was just… gone?

“Dead. Really dead, you made sure. With fire, I think and… lots of stabbing.” You replied, and Eskel gave a weak smile. He made to get up, immediately gritting his teeth against the pain, and you stopped him gently.

“You’re taking the bed tonight, no arguments this time. Vesemir’s orders.” You said firmly.

Eskel’s brows drew together. “You met Vesemir?” he asked.

“Not really.” You shrugged. “We were both too concerned about you to talk about me. But he didn’t try to kill me, so there’s that.”

Eskel gave an exhausted laugh, grunting in pain as the bandages tugged on his wounds. “Your heart is… faster.” He said, and you rolled your eyes.

“Stressful day.” You lied.

He nodded, too tired to insist on sleeping on the floor. For once, you were glad for it, not having to fight over whether or not he would take the bed and you the floor (he never let you, insisting that Witchers didn’t need sleep anyway).

***

Your neck was stiff when you woke up the next morning, and it took some effort to push yourself out of your chair. Eskel had sat up at the end of his bed, looking at you tiredly.

“Morning.” You said, your mouth sticky from sleep. You grabbed the pitcher from the bedside, taking a sip of water.

“You slept on the floor.” Eskel noted. “Never wanted you to.”

“It’s not a big deal. You’re looking better, that’s all that matters.” You shrugged, but Eskel only shook his head, pulling at his shirt. You turned away, giving him some privacy. Instead, you rummaged in your pack, looking for the potion he’d need.

“I wanted you to always be comfortable.” He said. You paused, trying not to overthink his words. The potion in your hand felt uncharacteristically cold. Keeping your eyes peeled to the ground, you set it down next to Eskel.

“I always was comfortable. I only have a stiff neck.” You replied. Eskel moved behind you, his hands already beginning to work the knots out of your muscles. You reached up to stop him.

“Eskel, I appreciate it, I really do, but you need to take care pf yourself.” You said firmly. When you looked at him, he had an expression of rejection on his face. Immediately, you regretted your words.

“I’m sorry, I only meant-“ you began.

Eskel interrupted you. “Yeah, I know. You want me to make sure I’m alright. But…” he trailed off. “I want to take care of you.”

There wasn’t a world where you wouldn’t have mulled over his words, hoping that there was more meaning to them. And so, you took his hands into yours, smiling at him nervously.

“Thank you, Eskel. That means the world to me.”

“Yours or mine?” he joked, and you felt yourself smile at his stupid joke.

“Both.”

Eskel paused at that, and immediately, you felt stupid for blurting it out. His hands held yours a little tighter, and a knot formed in your throat. There was a small part of you that was hoping, not just that you hadn’t said anything wrong, but that he would reply to this what you wanted him to say.

Instead, Eskel dropped your hands, turning back to the bed and making it mechanically. You missed the blush on his face entirely.

In the afternoon, you took care of Scorpion, watching as Ciri trained in the yard by herself, a frustrated expression on her face. After a while, you led Scorpion into the stables, walking back out into the yard, and smiling at Ciri. She gave you a strained smile back, and you noticed the irritated skin on her hand.

“Eskel wraps his sword grips with fabric to make them more comfortable in winter.” You told her, nodding at her reddened hand.

“My grandmother never needed any of that.” Ciri only barked out.

“Well, maybe she didn’t have dry skin.” You replied, and Ciri stuck her sword into the snow a little more aggressively than necessary.

“What are you training for?” you asked, idly twisting on a bracelet Eskel had gifted you once.

“I want to be as good as Geralt.” She replied.

“He’s very good, from what I hear.” You said. “But I think you need to take a rest as well. You’re neither a witcher, nor a man. Not that that’s a bad thing. Enough rest will make you better.”

Ciri sighed, handing you the sword. “Could you help me with the grip?”

You nodded, tucking it under your arm and walking towards the dining hall with Ciri.

“So… you and Eskel?” Ciri asked after a while. You almost tripped, regaining your composure quickly.

“No, we’re only friends.” You replied. “We just spend a lot of time together, like you and Geralt.”

Ciri scrunched up her nose in disgust. “I’d hope not. We don’t look at each other like lovesick idiots.”

You almost scoffed indignantly. “We do not look at each other like lovesick idiots. I also doubt that Eskel is in any capacity in love with me.”

“So you are in love with him?” Ciri asked.

Fucking teenage girls.

You didn’t reply to that, and Ciri’s smile widened. “Don’t even think about saying anything.” You bit out. “I just helped you with dry hands.”

Ciri rolled her eyes. “Can I tell Geralt? He’ll give Eskel a kick. You know, he firmly believes that you’re the one not in love. If he finds this out… he’ll have a field day.”

You buried your face in your hands. “He doesn’t talk much, does he?”

“Apart from the occasional grunt, no.” Ciri replied, not that that was much of a reassurance. You knew she was probably still going to spill your best kept secret to Geralt.

“Only Geralt. No one else.” You assented, and Ciri skipped away, leaving you with her sword. Sighing, you dragged yourself up crumbling stone stairs and into your room. Eskel had gotten it ready for you while you’d been out taking care of Scorpion. It felt strange to have one to yourself again after so long. Still, it turned out you didn’t have to be alone for long.

Only a few minutes later, Eskel knocked on your door, carefully checking in on you. You knew it was silly, but it was the things like this that made your heart flutter each time.

“How’s your shoulder?” you asked, setting down Ciri’s sword.

“Better.” Eskel said. He noticed the sword with a confused smile. “Are you training? You should’ve told me.”

“Oh no, I was just helping Ciri. Her hands are too dry because of the cold, kind of how yours get sometimes.”

“You remembered that?” Eskel asked.

“Yeah of course. Why wouldn’t I?” you replied, smiling at him.

“I’m in love with you.” Eskel said quietly, then. Your heart stopped for a good second. You stared, blankly, trying to comprehend what Eskel had just said. He paled at your silence, already beginning to back out of your room, but you quickly grabbed his hand.

“I- Me too. I am in love with you too, is what I’m trying to say. I didn’t realise that wrapping a sword would be what it takes to hear it but I really, really, really like you. A lot.” You rambled. “I mean, you’re sweet, and caring, and-“

Eskel stepped forward, hands that were made to kill gently cradling your jaw. He hesitated, eyes asking for permission. When your hands steadied themselves on his chest, he closed the bridge between you, his lips softly meeting yours. You sighed into the kiss, deepening it impatiently until your hands tangled in Eskel’s hair.

After a while, you broke the kiss, heart racing in your chest.

Eskel noticed. “Your heart is…”

“It’s fast, I know. Most of the times you pointed it out, it was because of you.” You confessed. His eyes widened.

“Since… Since I fixed up your hand?” Eskel asked with sudden realisation, and you nodded. He gave you a small smile.

“We’re such idiots.” You laughed, and Eskel joined you. The sound of it was so beautiful you could not help kissing him again.

#eskel #eskel x you #eskel x reader #eskel x y/n #x reader #reader insert #witcher eskel #witcher eskel x you #witcher eskel x reader #the witcher #eskel witcher #eskel fanfic

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witcher-and-his-bard · 1 year

Text

Love Letters

Pairing: Geralt x Jaskier Warning(s): none Rating: general

Fic Summary: Jaskier writes down all his feelings in a letter he never expects Geralt to see - only for Geralt to arrive shortly after, snowed out of Kaer Morhen.

For @jackironsides 💜

My beloved Geralt

Dear Geralt

Geralt, my love

No matter what he writes, it sounds wrong. Too intimate, too casual, too... much in one way or another. Jaskier hasn't even gotten past the introduction and he already wants to give up on the letter. It feels so easy over the summer, when he and Geralt spend long, muggy days walking side-by-side. Jaskier sings and Geralt rides, and occasionally, Geralt will even sing along with whatever he's playing.

Now, in the dark of his room at the academy, those feelings feel dull and distant. Not Jaskier's feelings, of course, but the potential reciprocation. These days, he finds himself thinking about Geralt's relationships with Eskel or Lambert, or even Vesemir. He wonders how different those relationships are to the one he shares with Geralt. Maybe those gentle things Geralt says to him in the comfort of their shared inn rooms are just things Geralt would say to anyone.

Ugh. Jaskier flops backward in his chair, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. He wishes there was an easy way to know these things, and for the first time in a long time he finds himself envying Yennefer. She could just read Geralt's mind, she could just know. And Geralt? He can smell emotions or something like that; at least, he always seems to know when Jaskier is upset about something. Maybe he took the wrong path in life. Maybe he should have tried to get into Ban Ard and become a mage. Surely there is some chaos in him, enough, at least, to be able to read minds.

Briefly, Jaskier considers contacting Yen. They've had a better relationship as of late, and she might be able to give him some insight, if nothing else. But he doesn't want to drag her into something that isn't really any of her business. Not because he's afraid to tell her, but because she might not want to know. She's happy now - travelling with Triss and Istredd last he heard - but there might be some leftover feelings there and he doesn't want to bring up Geralt in a romantic setting if he doesn't need to. Plus, he doesn't want to feel like more of a burden than he already does.

Jaskier looks down at the half-started letter in front of him and angrily crumples it up before blowing out the candle and shoving his chair back. He flops forward onto folded arms, looking out into the blue of the night sky, speckled with snow. Normally, he would take comfort in a view like this, but tonight, it just reminds him of how far away Geralt is.

Is it even worth beginning a relationship when they spend so much time apart? Would Geralt even be interested? Even if he was madly in love with Jaskier, would that be enough? What's the point when you have no one to cuddle with and watch the snowfall? But then maybe Geralt would want to visit some winters if they were more.

Gods, he wants that more than he can even properly comprehend. The idea of falling asleep in Geralt's arms feels like the height of romance. Already, Jaskier treasures the moments he falls asleep listening to Geralt's voice, even if he does feel a bit bad about it in the morning. Despite himself, a dopey smile spreads across his face at the thought. He misses Geralt more than he can say while they're apart in the winter. It's only a little into the season and already the long, dark winter feels endless.

Jaskier inhales deeply, sighs, and sits up to write. He's determined to finish this letter, even if it never reaches its intended audience.

Geralt,

I know it's barely been a month since we parted, but I find myself longing again for your company. Teaching is hectic as always, and my students love a tale of your heroism. I know you don't consider yourself a hero, but I do. Though lately, I find myself recalling different moments from our travels. I find myself thinking of the evenings after a contract has been completed and paid. I think back to the ale or tea and the stars hanging low in the sky. The way the firelight flickers on your face. I miss that. I miss the way your hair falls in your face when you take it down to sleep. I miss how stubborn you are about that awful headband. And I regret to tell you now that I've grown... rather fond of it, actually.

Rather rarely do I find myself at a loss for words, but they escape me when I try to nail down all the things I feel for you. I know I am a mere mortal, doomed to die years or even decades before you, but given the chance, I would happily live out the rest of my life at your side. Perhaps even in your arms.

I know love is not a word you use often, but the way I feel it could very well become something so all-encompassing. I can't promise that love is how I feel now. I find myself mixed up in a way I've never felt before. That's not to say that I don't love you, because I do. As a friend, as a companion, as something more. Perhaps one day, even as a lover. Even if you don't feel the same, I want you to know that you are deeply cared for in every way one person can care for another. I don't mind if you don't want to see me again, so long as it is your wish, and one borne out of intention rather than fear. Because although I've never spoken the words, I've longed for you for days and weeks and months and years, silently staying by your side. Perhaps one day you will have me there on purpose - despite, or maybe even because of, my feelings for you.

Until then, I remain yours, as always.

Jaskier.

Jaskier looks over the letter once more and, feeling an uncomfortable swell of emotion, folds it neatly and tucks it into an envelope that just reads Geralt. He's only just finished hiding the evidence when there's a knock at his door.

"Yes?" he asks.

"Sorry to interrupt so late," the voice on the other side of the door says. Jassa, Jaskier thinks, his assistant at the university. "You have a guest."

"A guest?" Jaskier asks, perplexed. Who on earth would brave this weather just to visit? The only guests he normally has are students or his fellow professors, either of whom would just come to his room and knock themselves.

"He says he's a friend. Geralt? I think," Jassa says.

Jaskier's heart somersaults.

"Right," he says, "of course. Send him up. I'll leave the door open."

"Certainly," Jassa smiles. "I'll send him right up. Have a good night, Professor."

"And you," Jaskier finishes, barely aware of what he's saying.

What is Geralt doing here? Of all the years they've known each other, he's never once come to visit over the winter, so why now? Jaskier turns around, leaning on the door, and is struck by the state of his room. For the last two days, he's done nothing but lie around and sulk, and it shows. He absolutely cannot let Geralt see his room like this.

Given he has roughly four minutes, maybe a few more if Geralt stops to talk to Jassa before coming up, it's not going to be easy. So Jaskier starts with the worst of it: the clothes and things laying all over the bed and floor. There is a surprising amount of mess considering Jaskier is the only one residing in the room, but he manages to get the worst of it tidied before the knock at the door. A final glance tells him only the desk and table are still cluttered, but that much is acceptable so he crosses to the door.

As he pulls it open, Jaskier is struck by Geralt's smile. He always is when they haven't seen each other for some time, but this feels more. Maybe it's because he's been considering his own feelings lately, but looking at Geralt, here and in person, makes his legs weak.

"Hi," he says shakily.

Geralt gives him an odd look, but it quickly turns into a half-smile and he steps into the room when Jaskier moves aside.

"I hope I'm not intruding," he says gently, "it's no trouble to find a room at the inn if-"

"Not at all," Jaskier interrupts. "I'd be happy to host you if you're staying.”

"I had hoped to," Geralt says.

"What brings you?" Jaskier asks.

"The route to Kaer Morhen was snowed over by the time we arrived in Kaedwen," he explains, "I thought this might be the best place to stay."

Part of Jaskier is delighted at the thought, though when he considers it further, Oxenfurt is further than any of the other places Geralt would be more than welcome to stay over the winter. There's no good reason for him to have travelled all the way to the coast, when surely Yen would have taken him in without question. Their relationship may not be romantic anymore, but Jaskier knows there is still a deep love between them. And he's happy for it, which makes it all the more confusing why Geralt is here. He thinks to ask, but reconsiders.

"Please," he says, remembering his manners, "make yourself at home. I can have a bath poured if you're tired? Was Roach properly cared for? Shall I call for supper-"

"Jaskier," Geralt says gently, "Roach is fine. A small meal would be nice, but there's no rush. Right now I'd just like to relax."

Of course, Jaskier thinks. He must have been travelling for weeks if he first attempted the path and then had to turn back. Jaskier had left him just north of the Pontar, between the mountain ranges, so that must have been-

"Jaskier?" Geralt asks, cutting off his train of thought. "Is everything alright?"

"Fine," Jaskier assures him. "Just wasn't expecting company and I'm not prepared for it- Not that you're not welcome!" he corrects quickly, and with a little too much vigour.

"Perhaps you're the one who needs a rest," Geralt says, half-teasingly.

"Just to get my head on straight," Jaskier assures him. "Why don't you make yourself comfortable and I'll go fetch something warm for you to eat."

Jaskier slips from the room, only stopping one he's far enough away that Geralt won't hear him. He stops and sighs, pressing a hand to his chest as if to stop the mad beating of his heart. Surely Geralt has heard it already and he’s given himself away, but he was hardly expecting to be visited like this out of the blue.

He takes another few calming breaths before continuing on down to the kitchen. He's close with the chef - with most of the staff if he's honest - and has more than once helped him out of a sticky situation with less-than-edible herbs, so his request for a private supper is granted with a smile. In the meantime, Jaskier makes his way back up to the room, holding his breath for a moment before opening the door.

Geralt is standing over the desk in the small room, mumbling quietly. As Jaskier approaches, slipping up behind him, he realizes Geralt is reading the poetry he'd been working on. Jaskier has never been so relieved to know how little Geralt thinks about his poems, as these ones are nearly explicitly about him, the only relief being that his name is not used. Wolf, he uses once or twice, but it's a metaphor and Geralt always says he doesn't care for flowery things like metaphors.

"This is... lovely," Geralt says, though he sounds a bit off as he does.

"Thank you," Jaskier says quietly, slipping around to Geralt's side to see which one he's reading.

"You- your narrator sounds sad."

"Ah, yes. Been a bit of a downer lately, I suppose."

Jaskier tries to laugh it off but Geralt turns to look at him, something like concern in his expression.

"What's wrong?"

"Oh nothing's wrong," Jaskier assures. "I've just not been feeling myself."

"Can I help?"

Jaskier is taken aback by the blunt suggestion and his head jerks up to meet Geralt's eyes.

"I'm not sure you could, love," he says gently.

"If someone has hurt you-"

"No," Jaskier says quickly.

"You reek of heartache," Geralt says bluntly.

"Right. Well." He considers for a moment before deciding against lying to Geralt. "Unrequited love, I'm afraid."

"How do you know it is?"

"Unrequited?" Jaskier laughs, "oh, my darling, he'd have to be the stupidest man alive not to know. Or perhaps the most oblivious. I'm sure he would have said something if he felt the same."

"You haven't," Geralt counters.

"Right, well- He wouldn't want someone like me, surely."

"Perhaps he feels you think the same of him."

Jaskier had considered that option, but it seems unlikely.

"Either way, it's best just to tell him. I'm sure he'll be flattered if nothing else."

The mere suggestion of it makes Jaskiers stomach turn and he nods slowly. Thankfully, at that moment, supper is delivered to their room and he is spared the thought of confessing his feelings - out loud - to Geralt.

His relief is short-lived as supper is finished shortly, but he makes an excuse about taking the dishes away and dashes out the door with them. Jaskier wants to cry. He can't believe he's gotten himself into a mess like this and he can only hope Geralt doesn't continue to bring it up.

He's so distracted thinking about it that it seems like seconds before he's standing back in front of his door. He hesitates before opening the door, keeping his eyes closed until the last possible moment.

When he opens his eyes, Jaskier's heart jumps into his throat. As Geralt turned to see him, a piece of paper had fallen from his hands and Jaskier can't take his eyes off it. He'd been so preoccupied worrying about the mess when Geralt showed up that he'd forgotten to hide the letter. And it was addressed to Geralt, he had every right to read it, but-

"Jaskier?"

Jaskier scrambles across the floor, reaching for the letter, but Geralt catches his wrist, holding him still.

"Is this just another one of your poems?" he asks quietly.

Jaskier shakes his head. There's no use denying it.

"It's… me. I'm the one you were talking about earlier."

Jaskier half wishes he could fall through the floor and never have to finish this conversation. Sadly, despite how hard he wishes, the floor refuses to open up beneath him. He nods.

"I want to hear you say it."

Jaskier's tongue feels heavy in his mouth but he manages, "I don't know what to say. I don't want to make any big confessions I can't live up to."

"Then how about this?" Geralt says.

He leans in, taking Jaskier's face in his hand, and softly presses their lips together. For a moment, Jaskier forgets to breathe and has trouble believing this is real at all. But when Geralt pulls back again, he's smiling, his cheeks a faint shade of pink. Jaskier's first thought is that it's quite a pretty colour on him before he presses forward and kisses him again.

"Yeah," he breathes, barely pulling away to speak, "I think that's a good start."

#rex writes #i just barely managed to sneak in a fic in January #first one of the year #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #the witcher

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redskull199987 · 10 months

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All the right Moves

Eskel x female Witcher!reader Word count:2.4k warnings: canon typical violence, reader is injured, fluff at the end Summary:You´re on your way back to Kaer Morhen together with Eskel, as you run into a Leshy. You knew that something was wrong, as Eskel told you he wouldn't want to travel with you anymore…

Masterlist

You were hiking so fast, that you could feel your lungs burning inside your chest. Your throat dry from not drinking anything for hours. Your feet were begging you to stop, even just for a minute. But you knew, you couldn't. If you stopped now, he would be dead, once you reached Kaer Morhen. You just had to make it in time. If Eskel died, you would never forgive yourself. His words were still ringing in the back of your head.

“Leave me alone!”, he yelled, as he pushed you away from him. Confused, you looked at the Witcher, who was normally warm and understanding around you. All you had done was touch his shoulder carefully, asking if you could see his injury.“Eskel…are you okay?”, you mumbled, Confusion still written all over your face.

“Just fuck off.”, he cursed under his breath, turning away from him.

You watched in confusion as he walked away from you, gathering his weapons. He didn't look back at you even once.

Your breath hitched slightly, as you could finally see the silhouette of Kaer Morhen on the Horizon. One or Two hours more and you would reach the old castle. It would be nightfall by then. You finally started to walk again, reaching into your pocket to find the potion, that was the reason why you were so late. You were sure that all the others had already arrived. Geralt and Vesemir probably worrying not only about Eskel, but also wondering why you didn't arrive yet.

You desperately wished that you weren't so late. But it had taken you longer than expected, to find someone who knew how to make the potion you needed. If it weren't for a mage, who was a good friend of yours, who teleported you near the mountains, where Kaer Morhen was, you would´ve lost several days and Eskel would probably be dead already. But luckily, you were only half a day behind him, which luckily gave you enough time to save him. Or so you hoped.

“Just fucking leave me alone!”, Eskel screamed at you, after you had finally managed to get a good look at his shoulder.“You´re infected, Eskel!”, you yelled, trying to grab his hand,”If we don´t do something, you will die!”“I am not going to die, so just leave me alone. I don't need you. I never needed you!”, he barked, looking at you with a stern expression. You were taken aback by his words. You knew that he didn't mean it, he didn't know what he was saying. But it still hurt you.

Before you could say something more, he was already mounting the horse and running off. You didn't try to follow him. It was worthless. You knew that he would be in Kaer Morhen after you found a potion that would save him.

You looked at his back one more time, before making your way into the other direction, already knowing who you could ask for help.

A small sigh left your lips,as you finally reached the doors of the keep. You were about to push it open, as the medallion around your neck started shaking. Hastily, you made your way inside. This wasn't the first time this happened today. But this time it was much harsher.

You didn't see anyone at first. The great hall was completely empty, but you could see plates full of food and tankards filled with ale standing all over the place. Someone was here not long ago.

Your head shot up, as you heard ruckus coming from the laboratory, seconds later the sound of pots being smashed and tables thrown over. As you finally started running, you could hear a beasty groan. “Fuck.”, you grunted as you heard the voices of Geralt and Vesemir. And as you finally reached the designated room, you peeked through the open door. What you saw almost made you lose your composure.

Right there, just a few meters in front of you, was Eskel towering over the other two Witchers. But he wasn't himself. Not in the slightest. He had transformed into a wooden beast, his face barely visible, but it was there.

Mere seconds, after laying your eyes on him, you wanted to storm towards him, but a magical shield was blocking the door. You quickly drew your sword, as you saw what was about to happen.

Eskel had managed to trap Vesemir, resulting in Geralt lighting up his sword to end it.

As fast as you could, you muttered a spell and lifted your sword. With all your power, you pierced it through the barrier.

You took three big steps, breathing in heavily, knowing that what you were about to do would knock the air out of your lungs.

And only as you stepped in front of him, lifting your blade to meet his in the air, Geralt had finally noticed your presence. He looked at you perplexed, as your sword clanked against his, the metall hissing from the heat. “What are you doing?”, he asked, not even angry, but genuinely concerned. “You're not going to take him away from me!”, you claimed, as Geralt slowly lowered his sword.

“Please just trust me!”, you urged the white wolf. He only nodded at you, as you quickly turned around, grabbing the small potion from your pocket.

“Eskel?!?!”, you yelled as loud as you could. The beast-turned Man quickly turned around, upon hearing your voice. Vesemir, who had previously been choked, fell to the ground, coughing. “Take care of him!”, you ordered Geralt, who was able to quickly make his way over to the older Witcher, since Eskel´s attention was all on you now.

“Here goes nothing.”, you muttered under your breath, as you felt a branch pierce through your shoulder. You yelped, as you were lifted into the air, more branches wrapping around your body. You were pushed against a wall, as Eskel leaned closer to you.

“Y/N”, he sputtered, his eyes scanning your form.

“It's me, Eskel.”, you affirmed, slowly bringing the potion to your mouth to rip the cork off, “You´re going to be alright, my love. Don´t worry.”

Eskel was about to answer, but no words left his mouth, he was just staring at you. You quickly realized that this was your chance, as he was momentarily confused. You lifted your arm, as best as you could and threw the small bottle of potion right into his mouth. He choked on it for a second, not comprehending what had just happened. “I'm sorry in advance.”, you quickly mumbled, before lifting your foot and kicking him in the jaw, in order to make him swallow the potion.

Your breath hitched for a second, as you didn´t know what was going to happen. Would it work? Would he live?

As you fell to the ground with a grunt, you were pretty sure that it was working. Grabbing your bleeding shoulder, you quickly backed off, as Eskel started to squirm around, an angry scream leaving his lips.

“Y/N?!”, Geralt yelled, as he tried to reach you, but Eskel´s branches were throwing a tantrum, swinging all around the hall.

“Please just work.”, you prayed, but suddenly, all movement stopped. The room was silent for a second, before all the wood surrounding you suddenly started corroding. You watched with wide eyes, how all the branches coming out of Eskel slowly crumbled away all the way up to his body. He had stopped moving for a second, but as you stood up and called out for him, the wooden exoskelett rumbled to life. You heard cracking and wood breaking and seconds later, you saw Eskel´s Human body falling out of what looked like a tree stump now.

"Eskel!", you gasped and leaped forward just in time to catch him. His body weight pulled you down with him. He was still unconscious, as you slowly turned him around, resting his head on your lap. Just now, you took a good look at him. His entire body was covered in dirt. Vines and leaves had grown in and around his clothes. The only thing untouched, was his Witcher medallion.

“He´s alive.”

You looked up at Geralt and Vesemir who were now standing in front of you. Vesemir was still leaning on Geralt for support, but apart from that he seemed fine to you.

“You saved his life”, Geralt added. All you could do was nod. Your emotions were slowly coming to the surface now and you realized that you could´ve lost him today. But here he was, laying in your arms unconsciously.

"Come on.” , Vesemir patted your shoulder, kneeling down next to you,”Let's get him fixed up. We´ll take care of this”, he lifted his hand to gesture around the completely destroyed room,”later, alright?”

You just nodded again, stepping aside, as Geralt and Vesemir proceeded to lift Eskel up to carry him to his room. As the other Witchers ran into you, you promised them an explanation , but for now, you needed to look after Eskel.

Your eyes kept falling shut over and over again, as you lay in a chair in front of Eskel´s bed. It had been a few hours since you managed to cure him from the infection. He hadn't woken up since. You tried to stay awake but sleep was gnawing at you, like a hungry aeschna.

“Sorry? Are you Y/N?”

Your eyes opened once more, as you looked over to the door to see who had come to visit you. A young girl was standing in the doorway. Her long blond hair was slightly disheveled and the bottom of her white dress was dirty and ripped open.

“You must be the child surprise.”, you stated, after getting up and bidding her inside.

“Cirilla of Cintra.”, she smiled, as she stepped inside,”Geralt sent me to give you this. He said it would help with your exhaustion.”

You looked at her curiously, as she handed you a small bottle of potion. You gingerly took it and inspected it´s contents. After recognizing the mixture, you quickly downed it in one sip. Mere seconds after, you already felt it working. Your eyes didn´t feel as heavy anymore and your limbs stopped aching a bit.

“Thank you Cirilla.”, you finally said and gifted the young girl a soft smile.

She only nodded and was about to leave, as you gently grabbed her wrist. She turned around perplexed.

You cleared your throat once more, before finally speaking again:”Geralt told me that…that Eskel was a bit rude with you, upon arriving here at Kaer Morhen.”

“He wasn't exactly the nicest.”, she admitted after you finally let go of her hand.

“I want to apologize for his behavior”, you sighed, rubbing your neck,”He isn't usually like this. He didn't even let me touch him, after he was injured. This infection…it did something to him, changed him.”

Cirilla didn't say anything, but instead stepped closer to the bed, Eskel was lying in. She inspected him carefully, her eyes wandering over his exhausted body.

“I really hope that he will wake up again. I would like to meet the real Eskel.”, she uttered and turned around to you with a smile. “Yeah, me too.”, you mumbled weakly. You were really missing your soft Witcher. The way he always smiled at you with his big eyes, the way his hands felt on your skin, his lips on yours, his gentle voice, as he mumbled sweet nothing into your ear in the early mornings. You just wanted him to wake up again.

“Hey?”, Ciri asked, pulling you out of your thoughts. She must have noticed how shaken up you were, “He'll be alright. You saved him, right?”

You only nodded, slowly petting her shoulder:”You should go to sleep now. It's late and you must be tired, after all this ruckus.”

“You should get some sleep too.”, she smiled softly before leaving the room. You threw one last glance her way, before the door finally closed and the room was silent again.

At least for a few moments.

Your head shot up, as you heard groaning coming from the bed. That could only mean one thing: Eskel was awake.

You quickly made your way over to the bed and you would be lying if you said, your heart didn't skip a beat. There he was. He was alive and well. His heartbeat going steady and his breath a little shallow, but also very much there.

As he looked up and his eyes landed on you, you couldn't hold yourself back any longer. you stepped forward, kneeling down on the side of the bed, your arms pulling Eskel into a massive hug.

“Woah there, bug. It's alright, I'm here.”, Eskel affirmed, as you buried your face in his shoulder,”I'm here with you.”

“Yeah”, you sniffled, a few lonely tears rolling down your cheeks. You finally parted to get a good look at him. Frankly, he still looked unbelievably tired. Dark circles were prominent under his eyes and you noticed that he moved with a bit of discomfort. “What happened, bug?”, he suddenly asked you, now fully sitting up against the headrest.

“The leshy.”, you mumbled, reaching out for his hand. He gladly intertwined his fingers with yours. “It infected you, after we fought against it.”

“Fuck, I think I remember now.”, he hissed,”I'm so sorry. The things I said, I did. I was such an arsehole, wasn´t I?”

“Well, Ciri certainly thinks so.”, you chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. But Eskel didn't laugh. Instead he lifted his hand to softly grasp your cheek. He gently wiped away your tears, but new ones were already coming, upon feeling his soft touch again.

“I am sorry.”, he said firmly,”Thank you for saving my ass.” “Of course.”, you assured,”I would do anything for you. I love you.” “I love you, bug”, Eskel mumbled, pulling you back into his chest. A small sigh left your lips, after settling against his body. You finally allowed yourself to rest, after so many hours of being completely on edge. Eskel was alive. You did, in fact, save him.

“Rest.”, you heard him whisper into your ear, as he pulled you closer to his body. His warmth spreading welcoming you, after he pulled the blanket over you.

“You deserve it.”

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ccghastly · 7 months

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Trainee Geralt & The Advanced Obstacle Courses

A little oneshot I just had to write out. It's only about 1k words long.

I hope you enjoy it!

The trainers grew frustrated with Geralt after he'd finished his trial of the grasses(both of them), as he'd slowed down on the obstacle courses.

He used to run the trainee courses with the frantic reckless hope that all the trainees did. Pushed, as they were, by their trainer's harsh words and expectations.

He now plodded through the advanced courses, pausing on every obstacle to watch how the next moved, even after having completed the same courses over and over again. The trainers had tried shouting and beating and bribing and threatening and cajoling and scorning, but still he crept through each course.

The trainers went to Vesemir, as he was leader of Geralt's Cohort, and Vesemir tried to encourage a bit more confidence into Geralt; he knew that Geralt could run those courses just as fast as any of the other trainees, if he'd just apply himself.

But still Geralt refused to speed up.

There came a day that Vesemir was headed to the library and, while crossing a walkway, spotted Eskel running the third advanced course. Curious, and knowing the trainees rarely went anywhere alone, he stopped to see what they were up to.

The trainees weren't forbidden from running the courses independently, but they rarely chose to with the rare bits of free time they had.

Eskel seemed to be trying to improve on his speed record, sprinting as hard as he could through the obstacles, and getting summarily knocked off for prioritizing speed over caution.

Vesemir winced as Eskel tucked into a hasty roll to break his fall and crashed into a support pillar of the neighboring course,

"Doing better, Keli." Came a soft rasping voice,

"Yeah," came a more acerbic voice "Last time you took way longer to fall there."

Vesemir looked over and wasn't surprised to find Geralt and Lambert stood nearby, they were a trio none had seen pairing up, but they hadn't yet had a spat bad enough to permanently split.

Geralt was tallying up the marbles from the counter; a contraption of turning gears and popping ropes the mages had put together to accurately time things. Marbles dropped out of it at specified intervals, the more marbles, the more time had passed.

The record for the third advanced course by a full witcher was set by Naumir at eight marbles, the trainee record was fourteen. Eskel seemed to have run about three fifths of the course in eleven, which was about where he should in his training.

Eskel groaned as he disentangled himself from the pillar and pushed himself to his feet, the many scuff marks and skids of dirt on his clothes showed that he'd been at this for a while. Lambert looked to be only a touch cleaner, so the pup must have given it a few tries as well. Vesemir studied Geralt, hoping for even the smallest smear of dust, but was dissatisfied to find he showed no signs of having fallen from the course.

Vesemir didn't know where the boy's sudden fear of falling had come from, it wasn't a large fall, and he didn't seem to fear heights when running the walls or during climb training, but still he refused to take risks on the obstacle courses.

Vesemir shook his head and began to walk away, but paused when he heard Lambert pipe up through Eskel's plotting and self chastising,

"Will you run it, Geralt?"

Vesemir turned back and watched Geralt study the course with a pensive look in his eye, he seemed about to decline when Eskel spoke,

"Would you? Show me how it's done, Wolf"

Geralt gazed at the course for a moment more then tilted his head to eye his brothers, Eskel and Lambert stared back with pleading eyes, and Geralt finally nodded a slow agreement. Lambert broke into cheers and Eskel clapped him on the arm with a beaming grin.

Vesemir watched with trepidation, and a small amount of hope, as Geralt clambered to the start of the course and stared it down while he waited for Lambert to shove all the marbles back into the counter and Eskel to set everything moving again.

"Ready… Go!" Shouted Lambert as he pulled loose the starting cord of the counter.

Vesemir felt his heart sink in his chest, when instead of launching forward Geralt slid into a crouch, his eyes unwavering from their lock on the course's first obstacle.

Vesemir might have left then, but there was something about this that felt different, so he stayed and watched his boy watch the rhythm of course.

For the first time Vesemir was able to have his full attention on Geralt as he faced a course and he realized that the gleam in Geralt's eyes wasn't fear, but a fierce calculation.

Geralt's head started a small sway in time with the first pendulum and then, all of sudden, he was off.

Vesemir felt his jaw slacken, he'd never seen a trainee run this course that fast, or that fluidly. It was as though Geralt knew exactly what was going to happen an instant before it did, he swung around pendulums, under bars, leapt gaps, and dodged spikes without a single toe misplaced. Not a move was wasted.

Vesemir found himself holding his breath as Geralt approached the final stretch, it was designed to force Witchers to use their signs, the obstacles unnavigable without them.

Geralt threw himself into the fray without a single beat of hesitation. His fingers flowed through his signs, but he left them half powered, giving them the bare minimum of the strength that was needed to let him eel through the great moving pieces, that could and would break any limbs they caught.

Geralt was nearly out when a piece moved a touch faster than he'd anticipated and clipped his heel, sending him tumbling madly into the last set. Vesemir wouldn't be surprised if he left an exact imprint of his fingertips in the balustrade he was clutching, with how tightly he was strangling it.

Geralt bounced off one clapper into another, and kicked off a third to tumble desperately over the finish line and, blessedly, off the obstacle course.

Only then did Vesemir register Lambert and Eskel's screaming whoops and howling. Geralt's brothers rushed to congratulate him and Vesemir sagged to the floor of the walkway.

As he calmed, Vesemir began to make out words over the thunder of his heart in his ears,

"TEN!" They were screaming "TEN! GERALT!" and Vesemir felt a grin creep onto his face.

I do have more on this, so if you have any questions feel free to ask!

💝 Thank you for reading 💝

#Geralt #Eskel #lambert #vesemir #papa vesemir #the witcher #witcher trials #ccghastly #kaer morons

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vesemirsexual · 6 months

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My hot take of the day is: Vesemir lets Lambert get away with murder compared to the other two and it’s not just because he’s the baby of the group

The thing is: Vesemir fucked up so bad. He let over a century worth of kids be traumatised, subjected to medical and experimental violence, sent broken into a world that they likely wouldn’t return from. It wasn’t solely his fault, and he’s also a victim of the system - but he’s also a part of the cycle, an essential cog.

Geralt and Eskel accept it. They see him as someone who did what he had to, did the best with what he had available to help them. It’s not even that they forgive him, because I don’t think they conceptualise it as something to be forgiven in the first place.

Lambert though? Vesemir actually has to work to earn respect and acceptance from Lambert. Lambert doesn’t hold any illusions about the greater good: he sees their lives as fucked up violations, and Vesemir as a perpetrator (even though I heavily suspect Lambert also identifies Vesemir as a victim as well, even if he doesn’t want to or won’t acknowledge it).

Lambert would and could walk away from Kaer Morhen for good. Vesemir can’t just treat him like a trainee, or an underling, because he knows this too. Even though they fight like dogs (inevitable, given their personalities) Vesemir has to try and reach out to Lambert in whatever way he can, because he does genuinely care about him and doesn’t want him to walk away (because realistically, Vesemir is the keeper of KM and if the fights with Lambert actually pissed him off, he could tell him to get lost next season and Lambert would).

And you can see that they do have a relationship. Lambert jumps to Vesemirs defence when Yennefer comments. Lambert is set to inherit his sword, that “fits perfectly in his hand”. I think it’s telling that when they fight about abandoning KM, Vesemir storms off for an entire month - I think that if Geralt or Eskel had pulled that fight, they would’ve been running the walls. Lambert? Vesemir leaves.

(Additionally, I feel the defence of each other goes the same way lmao. I feel like if Lambert and Vesemir fights and one of the other Wolves tries to side with Vesemir or comment on it, Vesemir is like “no thanks ass-kisser. don’t talk about your brother like that. run the wall 20 times”)

#i have so many thoughts about them #katie txt

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solcorvidae · 5 months

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Modern Witcher AU: My Headcanons: (part 3 of ?)

Geralt smells of coffee, caramelized sugar, kerosine, and mineral oil. The sugary scent is from his favourite fragrance (Vanilla Woods—The 7 Virtues) and it mingles well with his natural body chemistry and environmental scents. It’s very subtle but distinct and it works shockingly well for him.

Jaskier is determined to figure out what fragrance Geralt wears but is looking in all the wrong places. He assumes some of the “masculine” notes from the environment that linger on his skin and clothes are a part of the perfume. It takes Geralt explicitly telling Jaskier to look in the feminine and/or the unisex sections (of fragrantica) for him to actually do so and finally get put on the right track.

Jaskier smells of lavender and chamomile. His hair also retains the smell of his shampoo exceedingly well so he always smells clean. He uses solid fragrance that’s reminiscent of “Chamomile and Lavender Milk Tea” by The Dua Brand. It has notes of honey and raw almond milk that gives it a good balancing effect and works well with his body chemistry.

Jaskiers extended family organizes regular family reunions at grossly lavish locations at least once a year. Most of his family besides his parents and a few cousins don’t know about his cross-country road trip… or Geralt. When Jaskier brings Geralt along one year to a reunion at a rented out ski chalet he wants to make sure Geralt makes a good impression. Little did he know, most of his family would adore him and think he is such a doll. Geralt had no less than two people at any given time chatting with him for the vast majority of the weekend. As an introvert, he was exhausted by the end of each day. Jaskier is secretly convinced his family loves Geralt more than him after just a few days; however, Jaskier is more than happy to show him off so it never really bothers him much.

Geralt has a stiff gait. It stems from extremely tense muscles in his hips and lower back as a result of so many hours on the road and not enough proper stretching. Jaskier makes it his personal goal to get Geralt into physiotherapy and at the very least, flexible enough to touch his toes comfortably again.

Geralt’s nausea inducing alcohol of choice is tequila. Eskel’s is flavoured vodka. Lambert loves to get a reaction out of them over it.

Geralt can't have tequila (especially margaritas) anymore because of the near-two day hangover he had after drinking with his brothers on New Years Eve one year. Not even the night he came of age could compare to the sheer amount he knocked back that night.

Eskel's grievance against (lemonade) vodka started after a night out at the bar in his early 20's. He doesn't remember how many times he threw up that night (and he doesn't really want to either).

Lambert can hold his alcohol well but gets hangovers extremely easy, unlike Geralt and Eskel who rarely get more than a headache that's readily manageable with a single ibuprofen capsule. Lambert started keeping a bucket under his bed for this exact reason. He doesn't have a gag-inducing alcohol because if he did, all options would be exhausted with the amount of times he has been ill after a night out.

Geralt’s personal vehicle is a baby blue rust bucket of a pickup truck. It’s a sturdy but rough looking 1990 Ford Ranger.

Eskel drives a grey 2013 VW Jetta that was not taken care of too well by it’s previous owner. It’s a secondhand shitbox but it’s his secondhand shitbox.

Lambert refuses to buy his own car and when he’s not working, he makes Vesemir or his brothers drive him places when he can’t/doesn’t want to catch the bus.

Eskel gets extremely bad caffeine withdrawal symptoms since he has a much lower tolerance and rate of consumption than Geralt, who has a worrying dependency. Geralt says he's fine, but his blood pressure says otherwise.

[Modern AU Headcanon Masterpost]

#hypothermic ao3 #the witcher modern au #the witcher headcanon #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher #geralt of rivia #jaskier #julian alfred pankratz #geraskier #eskel #lambert #geralt #eskel witcher #lambert witcher #kaer morons #sol scribbles

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court-of-fairytales · 2 years

Text

The female Witcher

Summary: Geralt and Ciri are back in Kaer Morhen for the winter. But what happens when Ciri finds out about the only female Witcher who used to be close to Geralt?

Warnings: Poisoning

Words: 1850

A/N: I am back to writing after a 5-year-long break. I hope you like it!

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„Geralt? Who is Y/N?“ Ciri asked when she got into the same room as the famous Witcher. Curiosity was written in the young girls face. “Where do you have that name from?”

“Doesn´t matter, who is she?”

“No one of importance” Geralt grunts out and leaves the room as fast as he could, leaving a confused Ciri behind.

____________________________________________

Meanwhile Y/N lips left one curse after another one. Her grey hair was falling into her face as she tried to catch her breath. Her eyes were scanning the surroundings searching for one of the monsters she lost moments ago.

Oh, did she wish that another Witcher would have accompanied her. Vesemir told her to take someone with her, but she refused. Y/N wanted to show them once again that she was as good as them. Even though everyone knew that Y/N was one of the best Witcher out there. Some whispers even dared to say that she was better than the great Geralt of Rivia.

Just as she turned around to search further for the monster, the creature sprang out of the woods. Even a skilled Witcher like Y/N was, wasn´t able to react that fast and so the monster was able to bight right into Y/Ns neck, poisoning her blood with its venom.

Y/N let out a scream of pain before she was able to pull up her silver sword and push it right through the creature’s heart. Only in the background Y/N could make out the dying scream of the monster. The venom already taking control over her body. She went unconscious even before the monster fell right beside her. But before everything went completely blank the young Witcher´s lips left one single word “Geralt…”

____________________________________________

Geralt stormed through Kaer Morhen searching for Eskel, Vesemir or any other Witcher who was currently in the old keep. Searching for answers why Ciri knows of Y/N.

He just turned around the corner the exact moment as Eskel, nearly running him over in the process.

Eskel chuckled about the broody behavior, knowing exactly what got Geralt into that mood.

“Why does Ciri know of her existence?”, he practically growled out.

Eskel smiled knowing exactly where Ciri had that name from. And as a good friend of Geralt he won´t keep that information from him.

“Oh, she was in the dining room with us. Lembert asked Vesemir when Y/N is coming back from her mission. Vesemir told him, that she should be back soon. Ciri immediately perked up when she heard a female name and started asking questions if she is a mage and stuff like that. We didn’t give her answers, obviously. So we told her to ask you about Y/N. She immediately stormed off and I bet on your behavior that she already asked”

Geralt sighs taking in the news off her coming back to Kaer Morhen. “She is coming back? I thought she would never step into this keep again…”

“Geralt, Y/N visits our keep regularly. It was just about time that you meet again. It´s time to talk with Ciri about her before she runs into Y/N herself.”

The grey haired Witcher looked out of the window, thinking about the words of his dear friend.

“You are right. Thanks, Eskel”

____________________________________________

That night right before Ciri went to bed, Geralt walked into her room.

“We need to talk”, he stated while walking to the chair besides Ciris bed.

“About what?” “Y/N”

Ciri immediately set up again in her bed, waiting for Geralt to start talking about the famous Y/N.

“Before I tell you the story about her, you must know that there is no way that we are trying it again with you. Y/N was one out of a lifetime.”

The girl only nodded, confused about what Geralt just said.

“Y/N is a female witcher just like me. Vesemir took her in, not knowing that she was a girl. Y/N was and still is one of the most intelligent people gracing this world. She knew that Vesemir wouldn´t take her in if he knew that she was a girl. So she cut her hair, wore boy clothes and talked in a deeper voice. No one suspected a thing. She did all the same quests as we did and most importantly, she survived the trial of the grasses. No other girl ever did, it´s also the trial where most of our people who wanted to transform died a painful death. Only after that trial Vesemir found out that the young boy was in fact a girl. He punished her, throwing her out of the keep in the middle of one of the deepest winters Kaer Morhan has ever seen. He thought that the girl died but when spring knocked on the keeps door, not only the warmth came back but also Y/N. Vesemir was too stunned to speak, he was sure that the girl wouldn´t survive the winter. They barely managed it and they were in a keep. Impressed with the young girl he took Y/N in again, knowing that the girl was way more powerful than he thought and therefor way more useful. He talked to some mages how it was possible that a girl survived the trial of grasses. But no one had an answer. After talking with every Witcher and Mage he knew, they all decided to let Y/N do the last two trials. The trial of the Dreams and the trial of the Mountains. She passed both with brilliance. So they did one more trial just like they did with me, and she passed again. Owning her the same grey hair as I have. Y/N grew up to be one of the best Witchers the world has ever seen, and it seems that she comes back to the place where everything started… Kaer Morhan”

Ciri couldn´t believe her ears. A female Witcher? An exceptional one on top? Why did she never hear of her and why did no one talk about her?

“Why weren´t the others answering my questions about her?” the girl asked confused.

“Y/N and I have some history together. We spent most of our years together. We used to travel together, tried to get jobs at the same place or even got together on the same job even though only one Witcher was needed. You could say we were inseparable. We shared more than only work if you know what I mean…”

Ciri of course understood. She needed a moment to take all those information in. She thought about what question to ask next, especially now that Geralt was in a talkative mood.

“What happened between you two? Why isn’t she with you anymore?”

Geralt groaned, he was waiting for this question.

“I fucked up, I…” but he didn´t get the chance to continue the story because Eskel was storming through the door.

“Geralt… it´s Y/N, she is here… but it doesn´t look good…”

Eskel didn´t even get the chance to catch his breath or step aside when Geralt jumped up and pushed his friend aside. Running towards the gate where Y/N just arrived moments ago.

Ciri and Eskel were following him hot on his heels.

When he arrived at the gate. Vesemir where already by her side. He took in her current state and how far the poisoning already went into her body. The old Witcher asked Geralt to help him bringing the woman to their laboratory, hoping that they would be able to save Y/N.

____________________________________________

Geralt put Y/N down as slow as he could. Looking her over and over again if her status has changed. He looked at the spot where the creature was able to bite you. Wincing when he saw the black poison in your blood veins.

Vesemir hurriedly searched for the anti-poison when he started talking. “I told her to take Eskel or someone else with her. That the job would be too dangerous. Especially after we knew that more than one creature was in the forest. But she refused… she said that she could take it, so I let her go…”

Geralt sighed, knowing how stubborn Y/N could be. He looked up to Vesemir, who finally found the little bottle with the liquid, which could save her life.

Geralt held down your shoulders when Vesemir took the antidote and pressed it on Y/Ns lips, trying to get her to drink it. After some struggles from both, Vesemir and Geralt, they finally got Y/N to drink it. Geralt relaxed immediately looking up to his mentor.

“She will survive, right?” To that Vesemir had no real answer, just time could show if Lembert was able to bring back Y/N right in time or if he was too late. It already was a miracle that Lembert was able to find her.

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Geralt wasn´t leaving Y/Ns side at all. Vesemir looked after the woman every day, giving her a dose of medicine, and praying that she would wake up soon. Every time before he leaves the room again, he looks back at the couple, giving Geralt a look of sympathy.

Right after his mentor left the room another knock on the door brought Geralt out of his thoughts. Ciri walked in with a tablet of food, putting it down on the table.

“Is she going to be okay?” Ciri whispered behind Geralt. After Lembert showed up with Y/N at the gate the other Witchers told her many stories about the woman. Especially Eskel had the best stories about his friends. And after every story Ciri heard she liked Y/N more and more, but no one wanted to tell her what happened between Geralt and Y/N a few years back. Getting the same answer every time she asked: “It´s not our story to tell…”

Geralt looked back to the young girl, he treated like his daughter. “We think so. Her body just needs time to recover from the poison. Lembert found her long after the fight. The poison was able to get deep into her body. It´s going to take some time still its all out again.” Ciri nods in understanding. Vesemir told her about the creaturs Y/N thought off that day.

She gives Geralt a comforting squeeze to his shoulder to show him that she is here for him before the young girl leaves the room again. Leaving the two Witchers alone.

____________________________________________

The full moon was shining through the window at the sleeping figure of Geralt of Rivia.

Exhaustion finally took over him, after being awake for nearly a week.

But his deserved rest was of short-term when a cough waked him in the middle of the night.

Geralt immediately set up straight and looked over to the bed where the coughing was coming from.

Y/N finally opened her eyes, taking in her surroundings when she landed on the grey haired-witcher.

“Geralt? Is that you?” Geralt sprang up and walked the distance to the bed, kneeling down beside it.

“It´s me, yes” Y/N let out a whimper, taking his hand in hers. “Never leave me alone again” Y/N whispers. “Never”, Geralt answered and gave Y/Ns hand a comforting squeeze.

Never.

#geralt imagine #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #geralt of rivia imagine #the witcher #the witcher imagine #the witcher x reader #the witcher x y/n #the witcher netflix #geralt x y/n

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shy-urban-hobbit · 8 months

Text

Five times the Witchers learnt just how cat-like Aiden actually is

Biscuit making - Lambert

Lambert stared down at his friend, eyebrows raised in silent question as Aiden dozed lightly, plastered to Lambert so they were snuggled chest to chest in the small inn bed. He'd gotten used to Aiden purring in his sleep when the Cat witcher felt safe (and Lambert tried not to linger too long on how that made him feel) long ago but this…this was new.

The hands resting on Lambert's chest were rhythmically gripping and releasing the material of his shirt in tandem, the pinprick scratch of long, tougher than average fingernails just enough to feel through the fabric. It wasn't uncomfortable as such, in fact once he got used to it, when paired with the soft, barely audible purr it was actually quite relaxing.

Soon enough, Lambert found himself being pulled into sleep, either not caring or not realising that he himself had started letting out a steady stream of content rumbling of his own in response.

"Question for you, Cat."

Aiden didn't pause in lacing up his boots, "Ask away, Wolf."

"You know you were-" he clenched his fingers in imitation of the gesture, "I don't know - kneading - me last night?"

At that, Aiden did pause and Lambert had the feeling if he could blush he'd be bright red.

"I..shit. Sorry, I didn't even realise. I usually only do that around my siblings. I'll try to control it better."

"Didn't say it was a bad thing. " Lambert bumped his shoulder lightly against Aiden's, "I was just curious is all. I don't give a shit what you do, short of stabbing me."

Lambert tried to ignore the warmth blooming in his chest as Aiden let out a tiny purr.

Jumpscare - Eskel

Eskel hummed to himself as he bought in the last of the vegetables from the greenhouses for pickling. Glad to see that Aiden was already in the kitchen setting everything up and was currently busy with a keg of brine. Things had been a bit tense to start with when his little brother had rolled up with a Cat of all people but Aiden had made it very hard to not like him. If nothing else, he was always more than willing to lend a hand with chores - always a bonus when your home was in a near constant state of disrepair.

"Alright." Eskel said, dumping one of the sacks out onto the stone countertop, "That's the last of this year's crop. If we work quickly we should be done by-"

He was interrupted by a yowl next to him and if Aiden was an actual cat, Eskel would be inclined to think somebody had just stepped on his tail. Whirling around he saw no sign of the other Witcher. Until he looked up just in time to see Aiden hauling himself up to fully perch on one of the rafters, glaring at Eskel's haul.

"Eh...Aiden?"

"Get those things away from me." The Cat hissed pointing accusingly.

Now Eskel was even more confused, all that was there was a perfectly innocent pile of….

"You mean these?" He held up one of the cucumbers, causing Aiden to growl low in his throat in response. Eskel hastily dropped it again, "Ok, ok. I'll put these away for now and we can work on the beetroot instead. Ok?"

Aiden nodded but still refused to leave his perch until the offending items had been shoved back into the sack and into a cupboard.

Soundlessly, he grabbed a knife and began to peel and chop the beetroot.

"Cat thing?"

"Cat thing."

Zoomies - Geralt

Geralt couldn't sleep. Again. He was nowhere near desperate enough to go down the Djinn route again but by the Gods it was starting to get annoying. He just wanted one night where his mind wouldn't keep throwing up scenarios where he failed his responsibilities to Ciri, Yen, Jaskier, his brothers…he was just one man for fucks sake.

He decided to go check on the animals, Eskel had mentioned that the fence on one of the goat pens could do with repairs but it was already getting dark by the time he'd noticed. It was on the list for the following morning but his brother would be heartbroken if any of them had gotten loose and hurt in the meantime.

Turns out Geralt wasn't the only one feeling restless. As he entered the courtyard he caught sight of a figure seemingly in the middle of running laps along the wall. Too lithe to be Eskel or Lambert, too tall to be Ciri, it had to be Aiden. Geralt stopped for a second, unsure why until he realised. Aiden was moving fast.. too fast to be running it safely in the dark and frost. Even for a Witcher, that could be a broken leg or concussion at least if he fell.

As if the Gods had been reading his thoughts, Aiden lost his footing and soundlessly tumbled down onto the cobbles of the courtyard, landing in a heap. Only to bounce back up immediately as if nothing had happened and continue running laps at ground level instead.

Geralt felt his brow furrow as he continued watching, what the fuck?

"Couldn't sleep either?"

Aiden had come to a stop in front of him, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat and eyes darting around ceaselessly as he almost seemed to be vibrating in his own skin and using all of his self control to stay still and talk.

Geralt hummed in response before gesturing to the wall "You do that often?"

Aiden looked slightly sheepish as if he expected to be reprimanded, "Only a couple of times since I've been here. The mutagens. Sometimes I feel like I'm going to combust there and then if I don't move , for some reason it's worse at night. I think there was something meant to make us nocturnal, at least partially anyway. If I were on the path I'd go hunting or just go run pell mell in the woods for a bit. Doing that on an unfamiliar mountain didn't seem like the smartest thing though. I'm reckless, not suicidal."

Geralt huffed a laugh, "Well, don't let me stop you. Just don't make us find you lying out here with your skull cracked open in the morning."

Aiden gave a mock salute before going to mount the wall again, "Remind me to tell you about Cat Trials. Trust me, a fall from this is nothing. You could always run a couple of laps with me if you want? It's just, you look as if you could use something to tire you out too."

Geralt shrugged. At this point, why the fuck not?

Chirp - Jaskier

"Melitele's tits, it's cold. I mean, it. Is. COLD." Jaskier proclaimed as the two of them closed the door on the snow storm they'd just left, moving to hang his cloak and hood by the fire in the great hall, "I swear, if you and Lambert ever decide you're heading South for the winter I'm coming with you. Geralt can freeze his tits off up here alone, he'll survive. Unlike me. "

Aiden said nothing, although the bard had been around enough Witchers by now to know his companion was probably silently laughing at him as he removed his own cloak. Jaskier tsk'd at the snow clinging to Aiden's hair and moved to brush it out without thinking. The Cat let out a small but clearly audible "mrrrp" and momentarily pushed into the hand before he caught himself. He turned to face Jaskier, who was grinning at him like both Yule and his birthday had come early.

"Oh, well. That is just precious! " He exclaimed, clapping his hands together excitedly like a small child who's just been shown a magic trick, "Oh my dear, if all Cat Witchers make such adorable noises I may have a new favourite school. Do you all do that or is it just some of you? Purring's a given, every Witcher I've met purrs to some degree or other."

Aiden caught Coen's eye, the other Witcher flashing him a smirk which said 'You're on your own'

"That's it, I've decided! I'm making it my mission this winter to find out just how cat-like you are!"

"Do that and I'll hide your lute up in the rafters." Aiden said with no real heat, the Bard trailing after him asking questions about tables and glassware, distracted (for now) from the coldness of the Keep.

If I fits… - Vesemir

Vesemir basked in the quiet. There were perks to being one of the first ones to wake in the mornings. As much as he loved having his boys back safe and sound for the winter, after months alone the constant noise could become a little overwhelming at times, making these moments of quiet solitude all the more precious.

He made his way to the laundry room with an armful of bedding he'd found which probably hadn't been washed since the previous winter if the stale smell was anything to go by. No matter.

He quirked an eyebrow at the closed laundry hamper. He was certain he'd opened the lid earlier unless old age and senility were finally starting to get to him. Dumping the dirty sheets on the ground to free his hands he lifted the lid again.

And was greeted by Aiden blinking sleepily up at him, disturbed by the sudden brightness. Vesemir briefly took a moment to try and figure out what manner of contortion he'd used to cram himself into a space the boys had struggled to fit in even as adolescents before catching Aiden's eye. The two held eye contact as Aiden tilted his head in silent question, still half asleep. Vesemir wordlessly lowered the lid again in response before walking away shaking his head. It was too early for his boy's antics.

#the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #aiden centric #witcher aiden #witcher lambert #lambert #lambden #witcher geralt #geralt of rivia #geralt #witcher jaskier #jaskier #witcher eskel #eskel #witcher vesemir #vesemir #aiden/lambert

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