Thank You Lambert

Geralt stomps into Kaer Morhen, setting off a tired and irritated Lambert. Eskel comes to visit him shortly after. Can he convince Geralt to accept the affection and comfort on offer in his and Dandelion’s room?

This is an update to Keep Me Forever,also on AO3.

Geralt

Geralt barely registered Lambert as a blur as he stomped past him. His head ached. The bones in the moat gleamed in his mind’s eye. Dandelion’s earnest face, welling with concern, bored into his godsdamn soul. It was like his skin was peeling back from an infected wound. His chest was tight and the urge to scream was building in him.

“Oh,thank youLambert.Thank you for waiting up for me and opening the gates, Lambert,” the younger witcher called sarcastically after him. “Thank you for leaving food and water out for my horse and keeping the torches lit, Lambert.”

Geralt made the effort to grunt, but he kept going at his same pace. He heard footsteps catching up to him.

“What crawled up your ass and died?” said Lambert, hurrying to keep pace.

“Nothing,” barked Geralt. “Leave it. None of your business.”

Geralt walked through the last bit of open space before the castle, eyes trained on the door handle ahead. Lambert hustled in front of him and blocked the door. Geralt finally looked at him. Lambert’s hair was ruffled and there was a red imprint of something on his cheek. It looked like he’d fallen asleep on the table. He was in a soft tunic and breeches for sleeping.

“Get the fuck out of the way Lambert, quit playing, I’m tired.”

“The hell I will,” he said. “I stay up to be the welcome party, and you just stomp past me like I don’t exist? Fuck you. What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” said Geralt. “And don’t act like Vesemir didn’t make you do it. Isn’t like you volunteered.”

He grasped Lambert’s shoulder and shoved him out of the way. Lambert teetered on one leg, then righted himself. Geralt pulled open the door and passed through to the cavernous entryway.

Lambert was behind him again, crowding him.

“Is he here? Did he actually come? Dandelion?”

“Yeah,” said Geralt. “He’s here, you were wrong.” All he could think about was his bed. His muscles ached from the ride. He was even more exhausted by the irritating emotions that had ambushed him on the drawbridge. Ramming them back took energy.

Lambert scoffed and slapped Geralt on the arm. “I was wrong? I was wrong? How about WE were wrong. You didn’t think he’d come either.”

“Well he’s here,” said Geralt. He took a sharp right down a hall. Every step took him closer to his room and away from Lambert’s jabbering.

“That why you’re so bitchy?” needled Lambert. “Jealous, are you then? Eskel has his Dandelion here? He’s not mooning over you anymore, that it?”

“That’s not it,” growled Geralt. Eskel didn’t moon over him.

Their shuffling, stomping footsteps echoed down the hall.

“Well I blame this on you anyway.”

“Blame what on me?”

“Our little visitor. If you hadn’t have dumped Eskel–”

Geralt stopped on a dime. He whirled on Lambert. He stopped so fast that Lambert hurdled several paces ahead. He turned to face Geralt with hands on hips.

“Dumped him??” demanded Geralt. “What do you mean, dumped him? Like we were…no we weren’t. How do you–” he realized he was stammering and shut his mouth with a click. He drew his lips tight.

Lambert cackled. Geralt wanted to punch him. It wasn’t worth it.

“Oh, right,” said Lambert. “Like there are any secrets in this crumbling drafty fuckin place. You think I never scented? Or heard? You think I don’t know when I’m a third wheel?”

Geralt’s jaw fell open. He probably looked like an especially incompetent fish. Lambert took the opportunity to pounce yet again.

“The way I see it, if you didn’t break the big idiot’s heart back then, we wouldn’t be here today. HE wouldn’t be here.”

“I didn’t break anything,” hissed Geralt. His voice was undeniably defensive. That was never a good sign. Sometimes Geralt didn’t know what he felt, until he said it out loud. Then, he judged the truth of it by how it sounded. If it sounded true, it was probably how he felt. But this sounded like a lie, even to his own ears. But he had committed to this line of argument so he persisted. “We were just–””

“Just fucking?” Snorted Lambert. “Yeah, alright then. Sure. Just fucking. That’s why you look at each other like puppies. Looked, I guess. Because that’s not coming back. Now that his little flower is here-”

Geralt felt something else join the mass of already frustrating emotions in his chest. It was a flash of new anger. On Dandelion’s behalf. That was. Odd.

“Leave him alone,” said Geralt.

“You don’t need to lecture me,” said Lambert, jabbing his thumb in his own chest. “I’m not the one that left him alone out there. How many people you think were lined up to take your place now that he has all those scars?”

“Shut the fuck up,” said Geralt. He instinctively moved towards Lambert.

Lambert didn’t twitch. His chin lifted just a hair. Geralt sighed. This was moronic. Letting Lambert provoke him. They were both tired.

“Nothing. I didn’t even mean him.” Geralt turned and continued towards his room and the peace and quiet he craved.

“Oooooo,” laughed Lambert. “Do you mean the flower?”

Geralt didn’t say anything. He just thumped up the stairs, his bag hitting his thighs and his swords clanking. Lambert kept time behind him while he chuckled.

“A couple days with him, and you’re his protection squad too?”

Geralt rumbled an irritated groan. “Just don’t be a dick to him,” said Geralt. “Think you can handle that?”

“Please, Geralt. Please don’t tell me you’re sprung on him too. Already.”

Geralt wasn’t looking at Lambert as they trudged along, but he could feel the incredulous smile spreading out on Lambert’s face the longer he remained silent.

“You are! Fuck me, you are. So you dump Eskel, now you want to steal his flower too??”

Geralt growled this time. “Shut up. That’s not what I want.”

He didn’t know what to say and his chest was pulling even tighter. His skin felt like a drum. He had never been more relieved to reach the door of his room. He opened it, ducked in, and slammed it shut.

He heard Lambert’s fed up voice on the other side.

“Sprung on him already. How many days did you spend with him? Three? The fuck. Does his cock taste of roast pork? Does he cum gravy?”

Geralt yanked the door open again.

“I don’t…know..what his cock tastes like. And gravy? You’re disgusting.”

Lambert cackled. “But you want to.”

Geralt slammed the door again.

He heard Lambert mutter one last riposte.

“What, do you want them both?” He giggled, then lobbed one last shout at the door. “You’re welcome again!”

And finally, thanks be to the merciful gods, he was gone.

——-

Geralt moved around the room, putting his things away. He had unloaded most of his clothes into the wastebasket before he realized what he was doing.

He cursed under his breath and fished them out. There was a soft knock at the door. He’d been so deep in his own head that hadn’t heard anyone approach.

He opened the door and heaved an exaggerated sigh of relief when he saw Eskel filling the doorway with his broad shoulders.

“Thank fuck,” he said.

“Lambert being less than charming?” asked Eskel.

Geralt shrugged. “The usual.”

“Yeah, we passed him in the hall. He wouldn’t say hi to Dandy. Said he was too tired. But he did give him finger guns and a ‘good luck with all that’. Whatever that meant.”

“He’s a moron,” said Geralt. Though he knew that wasn’t true. Lambert seemed to know his feelings better than he did. Which perhaps was a lower bar than one might think. But still.

He continued roaming around the room putting his things away. Eskel hovered at the foot of his bed. Geralt saw out of the corner of an eye that he was fidgeting.

“What?” said Geralt. “What’s up?” He tucked his trousers in a drawer and slid his boots under the bed.

“Geralt, what’s wrong?” Eskel said.

Geralt sighed. “Just tired.” He didn’t meet Eskel’s eyes.

“Geralt.”

He sounded pained that time, and when Eskel sounded in pain, alarm bells went off in Geralt’s mind. Geralt stopped what he was doing. He turned and looked.

“Yes?”

“Please. Sit. Can we talk?” Eskel’s shoulders looked bunched up and his hands were jammed in his pockets.

Geralt got rid of the clothes in his hands. The rest of the things in his bags belonged to Dandelion. He dropped onto the bed and rubbed his face. Eskel stood in front of him, brow knit with worry.

Geralt patted the bed next to him.

Eskel sat. Their legs were close enough so their knees touched. Geralt leaned forward and propped himself up with his elbow on his knees. His hair fell down in curtains on either side of his face.

He felt Eskel’s fingers slide his hair behind his ear. It prickled softly at his skin. His eyes fluttered closed. He absently inhaled Eskel’s leather and pine scent.

“Can you tell me what’s bothering you?” Eskel repeated. “Please?” His voice was saturated with concern, and Geralt couldn’t understand how anyone was ever frightened by that voice. It had the opposite effect on Geralt. It soothed his frayed nerves.

Geralt shook his head. “It’s nothing. I don’t know what my problem is.”

Eskel waited patiently.

Lambert was right. Eskel was so good to him. And what he gave back was woefully, sadly inadequate sometimes. So he took a breath and dug deeper.

“I’ve walked by those bones a thousand times. I forgot they were there.”

Eskel’s hands were folded in his lap again. Geralt found himself staring at them. Remembering when Eskel’s fingers threaded through his, in secret. He supposed that it wasn’t such a secret after all.

Turns out that just because you don’t talk about a thing doesn’t make it a secret. It doesn’t make it disappear, either.

“You get used to it,” said Eskel.

“Yeah,” said Geralt.

They sat silent for a moment. The silence was comfortable. It was always comfortable with Eskel.

“Then someone looks at you like they feel bad for you. And then you remember,” Eskel murmured. He looked tentatively at Geralt. They had never spoken of this and it felt like a tender spot.

Geralt nodded. “You remember it’s fucked up. You remember you lost almost everyone you ever cared about.”

Grief welled up in him like a tide. That’s what had been bursting out of his chest. Grief. Something in Dandelion had reached into him and given his grief permission to show itself.

“And we never really grieved did we? We never really—” His throat closed.

Eskel scooted up against him and drew him into his strong arms.

And a sob tore from his throat. A rebellious, mutinous sob. Then another.

Eskel squeezed him tighter, like he was catching him as he fell. It made more tears chase the ones already sliding down his face.

“This is…so…stupid,” he gasped. Eskel kissed his head and said,

“No. No it isn’t.” He said it with such calm conviction, such quiet ferocity, that it caught Geralt off guard.

Snot started down his upper lip and he drew his sleeve across it.

Eskel got up and the bed sprung back up next to him. While Eskel rooted around for a handkerchief, Geralt remained sitting in the bed, silent tears rolling down his face. He felt…not embarrassed, necessarily. Eskel could make him feel normal in almost any circumstance. But he felt raw. Self conscious.

Eskel knelt in front of him with a handkerchief. He took it and blew.

“It happened so long ago,” Geralt said.

“Doesn’t matter,” Eskel said. “Doesn’t matter.”

“I’m fine. Sorry. I didn’t mean to be a dick. Out on the drawbridge.” He hiccuped.

“You weren’t,” said Eskel. He put his hands on Geralt’s knees and looked up at him gently. “You were just fine.”

“He just looked so…I don’t know. Like he felt sad. For me. For us.”

“It is sad. What happened.”

“I know.” Geralt wiped one eye then the other with a sleeve. “I know.”

“He cares,” said Eskel.

“I know.”

Geralt breathed in and out slowly while Eskel patted his knees and watched him with soft eyes.

“You’re so good with him,” Geralt said. The words came out in a whisper. He pulled in a ragged breath. “It’s nice. How do you do it?”

“It all comes so naturally to him,” said Eskel. “To love, and be loved. Affection. Words. It’s so easy for him that, that I…” Eskel scratched his head, “…just come out and say things I struggle with most other times. Things I’d usually keep inside.”

“He’s easy to love,” said Geralt quietly. He didn’t say the rest. Unlike me. The tragic, closed off witcher who pushed you away.

But Eskel read it on his face. He squeezed his knees and Geralt looked back into the depths of love and amber eyes.

“You are too.” Said Eskel. “You are too. I would’ve-“ He stopped and looked at the floor for a moment. “I would’ve given you the same if you would’ve let me.” He looked up. “I would’ve. You always acted like I was doin you a favor but that wasn’t it. It wasn’t like that. I just. I was afraid to tell you. You’re so beautiful. You could have anyone. And you’d found somebody else.”

Eskel’s voice broke off. Geralt reached out and slid his hand down Eskel’s face, cupping his cheek. He looked into Eskel’s eyes and there was nothing and no one else he could remember wanting more.

“I was an idiot,” Geralt said.

“It’s not too late,” said Eskel.

Geralt huffed a chuckle. “Three’s a crowd, isn’t it?”

“No,” said Eskel. “It’s just right. I care about you Geralt. And Dandy, he cares about you already too. I don’t know how to explain it. But he does. It’s like he loved me already. I just had to find him. And it’ll be the same with you. Besides.” Eskel caught his breath. “He said that you’re part of me. And he doesn’t think that love should cut off a part of me that I need.”

“Fuck,” said Geralt. “He’s something else.”

“Yeah,” said Eskel. “He is. You should come to our room tonight. Please. Come sleep with us. You shouldn’t be alone right now.”

“I’m fine,” said Geralt. “I don’t need—“

“Don’t you fuckin dare say pity,” said Eskel. “Don’t you dare.”

Geralt ran his hands up and down his own thighs. He wanted to say yes. But fuck. He was still wrestling with some tangle of feelings that he was beginning to recognize as fear. Also, what if they laid in bed and Dandelion or Eskel wanted sex? The thought would normally be thrilling. But he felt drained and raw.

“Thanks. I’m gonna stay in here though. I’m not feeling…sociable.”

“Geralt,” said Eskel. “You don’t have to be sociable. You don’t have to be anything. You can just be.”

Geralt shook his head. “Thanks. Really. But I’m good I’m here.”

 Eskel

Eskel closed the door behind him.

“How is he?” Asked Dandelion. He sat cross legged on the bed in one on Eskel’s tunics. His lovely blue eyes were drawn with exhaustion. He massaged his bare thighs with his thumbs in circles. He was pressing hard and cringing as he did.

Seeing Dandelion, in Kaer Morhen, in his room was like the completion of a circle. Eskel hadn’t fully grasped the joy that would bring him.

“He’s mostly better now,” said Eskel. “What’s going on? You alright?” The loose garment Dandelion wore was soft and rumbled and it made Eskel yearn to draw him in his arms.

“My thighs, my ass, are killing me. I didn’t realize until I sat down.”

Eskel walked over to the side table. “Ah, yeah Angel. You aren’t used to riding at all. Much less for days. Let me get some balm or you’re not gonna be able to stand in the morning.”

He rummaged through a drawer.

“He didn’t want to come join us?” Asked Dandelion the whites of his knuckles kneading into his thighs.

“No.” Eskel shook his head. He climbed onto the bed with a gray tin of balm in his hand. “Here, sit against the bed board.”

Dandelion obeyed. Eskel sat beside him, facing him. He drew one of Dandelion’s legs into his lap and opened the jar. Dandelion sneezed.

Eskel chuckled. “It’s a little strong but it works.” He slathered some on both hands and then laid both hands on Dandelion’s thigh. It felt so smooth and warm on his palms.

“This’ll tingle a little.” He slid his hands in a circle and Dandelion blew out a breath.

“You ok?”

Dandelion nodded.

“I have to press a little hard. You ready?”

Dandelion nodded. Eskel pressed a little harder with both hands, watching the flesh ripple in his fingers.

Dandelion hissed.

“This alright?”

Dandelion nodded again. “Don’t stop.”

“I invited him,” Eskel said. “I tried.”

“He knows he’s welcome, right?” asked Dandelion. “That I want him here too?” Eskel smiled to himself. Dandelion fussing over Geralt felt like reinforcements. His love cared about what he cared about. He’d never even known to dream of a partnership like that.

“He does, love.” He moved his hands higher on Dandelion’s thigh, closer to his groin. He spread the balm thoroughly over every bit of skin, making it shiny in the flickering torchlight.

“And did I offend him? Outside?”

“No, not at all. He just wants space right now.”

“I understand.” Said Dandelion.

“Give me the other one.”

Dandelion flipped one leg over Eskel, and positioned the other in his lap. Eskel spread more balm on his hands and started rubbing again.

“You know,” said Dandelion. “Geralt said something to me in the shop. I’ve been thinking about it.”

“Yeah, what’s that?” asked Eskel.

“He said something about your scars.”

“What’s that love?” he slid a hand up each side of Dandelion’s upper leg, watching the dark hair slide under his fingers.

“It wasn’t what he said, exactly,” said Dandelion. “It just made me think. I made a big fuss about you changing our face.”

“You did.”

“And I was so upset at the time, I don’t know how eloquent I was.”

“You got your point across.” Eskel worked and twisted his hands, feeling Dandelion’s muscle ease and loosen.

“I was only upset because you thought you needed to do it to make my life easier. And I would burn down this world before I let anyone make you feel you need to change for my benefit. Because I love you just the way you are. You got that right?”

Eskel grinned. “Yeah. I got that.”

“Because what you do with your face or your body for any other reason is entirely up to you. Your body belongs to you.”

“I understood that.”

“Good. Then you understand that I would love you no matter what your outside looked like. I love you for your beautiful spirit.”

“I do.”

Dandelion caught his wrists, and Eskel’s eyes flicked up to meet his. His balm slicked palms hovered over Dandelion’s leg. Blue eyes regarded him emphatically.

“If you changed yourself to a merman, I would follow you into the ocean.“

Eskel couldn’t help the involuntary grin that sprung to his face. He pictured himself as a mighty merman with a ferocious tail and Dandelion wading out into the water to greet him.

“You can’t breathe underwater.” Eskel said, chuckling. "You’d die.”

“I’d die as I lived. Pining for Eskel of Kaer Morhen.”

Eskel laid his hands on Dandelion’s hips and leaned in. He kissed him slow and sweet, the smells of balm, Kaer Morhen, and honeysuckle wine and the soft lips of his love pressed against him.

“Jester,” he said.

“It’s true though. And if you changed yourself to a dragon I’d learn to fly.”

Now Eskel pictured himself as a dragon. He would make a ridiculous looking dragon. But he’d be fine with Dandelion perched atop him.

“You don’t have to fly,” said Eskel. “You could ride me.”

“I could.” Dandelion wiggles his eyebrows. “I could ride you as a witcher, too.”

“I trundled right into that one didn’t I?” laughed Eskel.

“You did. Though I’m likely exaggerating. I couldn’t ride anything in my current condition.”

“Ok, lay down. I need to get this on your ass too,” said Eskel.

Dandelion made a face. “Please do, it’s excruciating, I’ll admit.” He settled himself flat on his stomach, and Eskel straddled his legs. He pulled down his underclothes.

“Darling, don’t be offended if I don’t get hard. I’m in extreme pain.”

“I never would,” said Eskel. He rubbed the balm on Dandelion’s ass and he admired the perfect round cheeks on his love as he did. Then he massaged into his flesh, as Dandelion made little groans that were a cross between relief and pain.

“You alright?”

“Yes, it hurts but I need it. Keep going.”

After thoroughly coating every sore part of Dandelion with the balm, Eskel washed up and extinguished the lanterns. He crawled under the covers with Dandelion and drew him into his arms.

“Thank you for coming home with me,” whispered Eskel.

Before Dandelion could answer there was a knock at the door. It was so soft, that had either of them had been speaking, they might have missed it entirely.

Eskel knew a knock that soft couldn’t be Lambert. Hope bloomed in his chest as he carefully pulled his arms from beneath Dandelion’s neck.

“Think he changed his mind?” whispered Dandelion.

Eskel quickly padded over to the door.

The door opened and Geralt stood in the doorway looking uncertain. Most all of the lanterns were extinguished for the night, so he stood in the dark. His golden eyes caught the little bit of light that remained.

“Heard you had room for one more,” said Geralt.

Eskel took him by the hand and squeezed.

“We do.”

“Bring him here,” said Dandelion happily, from the bed. He was rubbing his eyes. He’d taken off the tunic and his fair skin set off the lush thick hair in his chest.

Eskel led him to the bedside. He thumbed the bottom hem of Geralt’s shirt. Geralt nodded and lifted his arms.

Eskel pulled Geralt’s shirt off then took his face in his hands.

“We’re glad you came.”

Then he slid his arms around Geralt’s warm bare skin and squeezed him tight. Geralt lay his head down on his shoulder and wrapped his arms around Eskel’s waist.

Eskel’s hands remembered this, as they slid down Geralt’s back, greeting the familiar scars.

“Come on,” he said.

Eske climbed into bed, into the warm spot heated by Dandelion’s body. Dandelion quickly snuggled up to his left side, molding himself around his body.

Eskel held out his right arm towards Geralt.

“Sure you want a tragic, morose witcher in your love nest?” asked Geralt as he climbed in next to Eskel, pulling the covers over the three of them.

He settled his head into the crook of Eskel’s arm, and found Dandelion closeby, cuddled up on Eskel’s other shoulder. He gazed at Geralt in the dimness, sleepy hooded eyes casting shadows with thick lashes.

“You aren’t tragic,” said Dandelion. He ghosted his hand on Geralt’s cheek. When Geralt leaned forward, he allowed his hand to settle there. “What happened was evil. And tragic. But you? You’re a survivor. A miracle.”

Eskel could feel Geralt melting into the affection. Seeing Dandelion show Geralt love was like receiving it himself. He craned down and felt Geralt lean forward, lips seeking his out. So Eskel kissed Geralt. It had been years. But it was as though no time had passed at all. Because it felt exactly as it should.

Geralt’s lips were like coming home.

Geralt leaned and pressed into him, breathing slower with each passing moment.

Then Eskel turned his head and he was kissing Dandelion. His lush lipped, eager, Angel. It was an unfathomable luxury, Geralt tucked against one shoulder and Dandelion against the other.

And then they were gazing at each other, Geralt and Dandelion.

Dandelion found Geralt’s hand and clasped it. Eskel’s heart warmed to see Geralt squeeze back.

“Go ahead,” said Eskel, bemusement obvious in his voice.

So Geralt and Dandelion, faces leaning against the other expanse of Eskel’s chest, kissed.

Eskel closed his eyes and listened to them sigh against one another’s lips.

They fell asleep like that, legs tangled together, hearts beating together, and if it was a dream, Eskel never wanted to wake.

—–

In this fic, Jaskier is a sex worker who goes by the name Dandelion.  Lambert will also be getting in on the love, he’s just a tougher nut to crack, so it’ll take a little more effort. However, it is effort that Jaskier is fully prepared to put in.

kueble:

Written for Team Bingo over at @thepassifloradiscord. Prompt is: Gardening.

Teen. Warnings: none.1,600 words.

Jaskel

—

Eskel isn’t expecting a lot of customers on a Tuesday afternoon, so he’s hidden himself in the back of the greenhouse with rows of vegetable starters.  He figures they have another week or two before they start flying off the shelves, and he wants to make sure everything is prepared for the rush.  He’d normally have headphones on, but he’s manning the nursery by himself today, so he has to listen for customers.  The local rock station is on quietly instead, and Eskel finds himself singing along to it while he works.

What he didn’t expect was for someone to stomp into the greenhouse and holler out a panicked, “Hello!  I need help!  Desperately, even!”

Wiping his soil covered hands on his apron, Eskel stands up and looks towards the door.  He’s stunned by the man standing there, cradling a pot to his chest.  Eskel has never seen him before, but he’s the most gorgeous man to ever waltz in here, that’s for sure.  “Coming!” he calls out, quickening his pace as he moves towards the door.

Keep reading

on-a-lucky-tide:

(Jaskel, Explicit)

Eskel’s hands shook in the tangle of sheets beneath them. His body’s on fire; every brush of fingertips and featherlight kiss scatters embers of pleasure over his skin. He can feel it behind his eyes as they squeeze closed, see it in flashes of light and heat in the grey.

His chest is tight, his toes curled, as he pushes his knees into the bed. He pulls away from the pleasure, tries to cool the heat and catch his breath, but his movement only serves to rock Jaskier inside him, and Eskel shoves his face into the pillow, his noise trapped in his throat.

Eskel is so aware. So tuned in. He can feel the brush of soft, downy hair against his back when Jaskier leans forward, and the sweat forming in hollows and crevices of his body. A bead slides down the arch of his spine from his hairline, and Eskel chokes out a sob when Jaskier licks it away.

“Breathe, love,” Jaskier whispers, the tremor in his voice scarcely disguised by the kiss pressed to the back of Eskel’s shoulder. His long fingers cradle Eskel’s body like it’s some fine thing; an object of desire, a delicacy to be savoured. A palm cups his hip, holding him steady, but the other slides up his forearm to stroke his clenched fist.

There were no words. No loving epithets, only the caress of Jaskier’s fingers, urging Eskel’s body to open up. To accept and surrender. The wooing is done, the chase is over; there’s no doubt that Jaskier wants him. Like this. As he is. Raw and open and vulnerable. Just for a precious moment. Just long enough.

Eskel’s fist unclenches and Jaskier’s fingertips slid over his palm; the top of his nose follows Eskel’s hairline and Eskel feels the puff of his startled gasp as the punishing grip of Eskel’s body eases. Jaskier’s chest rests in the curve of Eskel’s back, that slender hand following the line of the witcher’s body to his neck. Jaskier grips Eskel’s throat beneath the hinge of his jaw and makes him arch deeper, graceful hips that twist and turn in the training yard tilted up and yielding.

Eskel’s knees spread a little wider and he groans, deep and longing. Jaskier kisses the corner of his tattered lips and grinds in deep. He finds his angle, and Eskel’s body pulses in answering euphoria. Jaskier groans against the soft skin beneath Eskel’s ear and knows he’s ruined for anyone else, “Fuck, Eskel.”

Another year, another Jaskel :D
I’m probably going to focus a lot on Jaskel this year. And Eskel. Eskel, too.
(⁎❛ᴗ❛⁎)

My dear @mistahkato! It’s me, your gifter for the Rarepair Secret Santa event by @merrywitchermas! ❤️

I really really hope you like your gift! I went with Jaskel and hurt/comfort after an injury. Well…and with patching up wounds. And comforting hugs while crying? (well, probably the wrong way around but ehh) :D

I hope the pic didn’t turn out too bloody…I’m honestly a bit worried about that haha

Anyways, Merry Christmas (belated)! Wishing you all the best! ✨✨

devendrasbeard:

Don’t Wake The Sleeping Dragon

This is my @merrywitchermas Rarepair Secret Santa gift to @firefly-party!!!

I got so blessed, because my assigned giftee is also my BESTIE!

I had so much fun writing this, the only difficulty was keeping the thing secret for a WHOLE MONTH! also, special thanks to @hallistarling for beta-ing, tossing ideas arround and keeping her mouth shut too!

Merry Christmas, Kei, my beloved! Enjoy your Jaskel! <3

Summary:Contrary to his husband, Eskel is a massive fan of body modifications, having almost half of his body covered with tattoos and piercings.
Jaskier holds his hand during yet another piercing appointment, not knowing the severe consequences of Eskel’s decision for them both.

Read on AO3 or read it here under the cut, because SMUT

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♥️♥️ LOOK AT THIS!!! I GOT BE PERFECTEST (YES BC PERFECT IS JUST NOT ENOUGH) RARE PAIR SECRET SANTA FIC FROM MY BESTEST FRIEND ON THIS FUCKING PLANET. WHAT A SURPRISE AND EXCUSE ME WHILE I GO SCREAM ANOTHER ROUND. HHHHNGGGGGGG ♥️♥️

Ok guys, look: I sent an Ask with a Jaskel hand-holding prompt to the amazing @dapandapod a few weeks ago…and then she reached out to me, asking for a collab. And here we are!!! I’m having a blast working with her!! SHE’S FUCKING BRILLIANT, OK? My art doesn’t do the ficlet any justice bc it’s so damn good!! So please, go read it

HEREor on AO3!!!!

You can still send her Asks for the hand-holding prompts!!! And omg pls do it bc Panda’s writing is just so amazing, full of love and fluff.

PS: Panda absolutely loves to write Lambden but pls, explicitly state that you want a happy ending, ok? ;DDDDDDDDDDDDD you’ve been warned.
Hi Panda, yes ily. But revenge and so on, right?

PSS: we’re also collabing for another smutty geraskier hand-holding prompt!! so pls pls look forward to that!!! i haven’t read it yet but i knowit’s going to be mind-blowing!! hrrrrrr

Pick your ship.

a very self-indulgent Jaskel piece
Jaskier living my the dream…. good for him ._.

Jaskel kiss sketch~

dapandapod:

The art of recovering

Or; that time i wrote a ficlet to explain the trope Kissing for cover, and that time they had to keep kissing in a hayloft after :)

Hello loves!
Here comes a smol somft little thing that was written directly on discord and slapped directly here. (I’m so sorry Kuri…)
Please enjoy someJaskelsomftness, and if you like it, thank @firefly-party who keeps making me writing them xD <3

On Ao3 here

Joining Eskel for this mission had been a great idea until it wasn’t.

Usually it is Geralt he would run behind, skidding around corners as an angry mob or spouses or guards or werewolves or whatnots chases them.

This time it’s Eskel, and Jaskier has no idea why he thought that would go any better.

The alley is empty, devoid of hidingspaces, like, of fucking course it is. Behind them, their pursuer is closing in and Jaskier realizes he doesn’t have a choice.

Hiding in plain sight it is.

Keep reading

️
->Twitter

or fruity censored version under cut ⬇⬇

some soft jaskel to dust off my acc…

I’ve been hoarding several sketches and pics lately bc i can’t get myself to post them anywhere.

Next weekend i’m off for vacation ️️️ and i hope i’ll be able to get over being so damn self conscious all the time

Also this pic is dedicated to @witch-witcher-witchlesschless❤

jaskel commission for @fishfingersandscarves❤

So@firefly-party said “hey, write me Jaskier and Eskel accidently meeting on the beach” and I said maybe, but then I wrote it immediately, because that is how I am as a person apparently. Very hard to convince……

So please enjoy these somft boys having a moment, maybe not that accidental but very unplanned on Jaskier’s end at the least! And thank you Socks my beloved for beta reading, it is a great help when my brain is as shut off as it is.
Please enjoy <3

On Ao3 here

It might have been a little on the nose. Very on the nose actually. But Jaskier is lonely. As much as he is over his last breakup, he misses having someone there. Someone to love, someone who loves him back. 

It’s just a habit of his, to translate his emotion into songs. It is a way to get it out of a system, explore, express, but it leaves him feeling raw and vulnerable too.

Not all songs are sung in front of other people. Not every song makes it to the stage. Some of them are just for himself, sometimes for his friends or family. This one is balancing on the line of too-much. He played it for Essi, Priss, and just the other day at Geralt’s house, where all of them had gathered to hang out.

Jaskier is not sure why he played it, but Aiden had asked him to sing, curling his arm around Lambert, and there had been a pang of longing in his chest.
Because Eskel is right there, looking at him, and Jaskier is aching for someone. So he sang it.

Today, he is second guessing himself. He has flipped up the collar of his coat against the wind, it’s a little cold, the sky cloudy and gray, the ocean beating angrily against the shore.

As soon as he started singing it, as soon as he sang “someone to you”, he knew he said too much. See, some songs you can sing in front of strangers, and they don’t know enough about you to draw conclusions. 

Some songs can only be deciphered by friends, too specific to make sense to anybody else. Some songs should be sung in his room, fairy lights lit and guitar just a little out of tune, because the need to sing was stronger than the need for it to sound good.

This song is a song for strangers or for himself.

He saw it in their eyes when he finished, their pity. He didn’t even dare look at Eskel, just smiled weakly and started the next song, something less personal, something deflecting and funny.

 
Today, on the beach, he thinks about their faces. Thinks about how cold his hand is when he doesn’t have another to hold. How he, despite no lack of suitors, can’t seem to make himself reach for them.
He doesn’t think about why.

Watching the waves stumble over each other, reach for whatever it is they seek on the shore, reaching, forever reaching, breaking against rock and sand. The symbolism is there, it’s hard to miss, but the ocean always was a place of comfort for him. 

The air is cleaner here, the forces of nature always taking his mind off of what ails him. Not entirely, but much like the songs, it helps him sort things out.

There is sand on his shoes. His scarf is flapping in the wind. There are birds riding the winds, gliding above the water.

There are footsteps behind him.

Jaskier doesn’t turn. This is a popular space for people to take a walk. In fact, he made a friend because of it. An older lady with a small dog named Frank. She stops to talk to him every once in a while, he even joined her for coffee once.

But it is not Frank and his lady. It is Eskel, hands deeply buried in the big jacket he’s wearing. Jaskier’s traitorous heart skips a beat as he watches him approach, smiling as Eskel stops in front of him.

“Hi.” Jaskier greets.

“Hi.” Eskel replies, shoulders drawn up. “Real shit weather for a day on the beach.”

“Sure is.” Jaskier agrees. “Care to join me?”

Eskel nods, and they turn back to look at the waves. For a long while, they just stand there, until Jaskier breaks the silence.

“Geralt told you where to find me, didn’t he?”

“Didn’t need to. You always come here when you are upset.” Eskel says, bumping their arms together. It is a small gesture, companionable and comforting, and it works damn him.

“Hmm.” Is all Jaskier says, bumping back.

“Want to talk about it?” Eskel offers after another silence.

“I’m fine. Just a little lonely. It will pass.”

“Am I interrupting your loneliness?”

“Yes. Don’t you dare leave.”

Eskel looks thoughtful for a moment, and Jaskier glances at him from the corner of his eye.

“You know, I might have a cure for that.”

He what?

“You do?”

“I might.” Eskel corrects. “But it really depends.”

Eskel turns towards him, and Jaskier’s heart is beating fast now. It almost sounds like…

“On what?”

The wind is strong, making the tip of his nose red and cold. The gray sky is a backdrop, the waves a soundtrack.

“On you. If you’d want me. Uh- want it. Me.”

“Eskel.” Jaskier interrupts, stepping closer with a smile. “Are you asking me out?”

“I guess I- I am. Yes I am.”

Jaskier can do nothing but smile and lean closer, resting his head against Eskel’s shoulder.

“That sounds like a lovely cure.”

Eskel puts an arm around his back, and they stand together and watch the waves.

“This is a good place.” Eskel says after a while.

“I know.” Jaskier agrees. Even better now that Eskel is here.