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.

May I interest anyone in a little Geralt/Eskel? *waves at stall filled with childhood love, shared trauma, and unconditional acceptance.

3500 words ish. Eskel is hurt, and Geralt must help him undress. It leads them to reminisce on their first kiss.

EXPLICIT

Also on AO3

Geralt

Geralt tore through the gate of Kaer Morhen and bounded into the castle. His heart thudded loud and urgent in his ears. His boots slapped the stone at a frantic pace as he rounded the corners of the wide hallways.

 He skidded into the kitchens, almost crashing into the back of Lambert’s chair. The younger witcher had the chair pushed back from the table so his legs could stretch out long in front of him. He sat up and twisted around.

 “Hey, calm your tits,” said Lambert. “He’s fine.” He craned to look at Geralt’s splotchy, sweaty face. “You look like shit.”

“I heard a witcher,” he panted, leaning on his knees, “was turned to stone.  It was in Gwenllech and Eskel had a…”

 “Contract there, we know. He’s back, he’s fine I said.”

 Vesemir sat across from Lambert at the oak table. They liked to eat in the kitchens sometimes. It stayed warmer and they didn’t use all the space in the dining hall. The remnants of a simple dinner was crumbled on their plates. Both witchers, the older and the younger one, were in comfortable clothes for the evening, both wearing untied tunics, and soft breeches. Vesemir stood up and laid a hand on each of Geralt’s shoulders.

“He’s fine,” said Vesemir. “Breathe.” His craggy face showed concern.

 Geralt nodded jerky and frantic. But he closed his eyes and his nostrils flared with the effort of a purifying inhalation.

 “So, not stone I take it,” said Geralt.

 “Just his arm,” said Lambert. He scooted his chair around to see Geralt better. Then he lifted his stein and guzzled it.

 “What the fuck?” said Geralt. “His arm is…stone?”

 Vesemir squeezed his shoulders tighter. “Look at me, Geralt.”

 Geralt eyes flicked back to Vesemir’s calm face and his panic abated somewhat.

 “It’s just an enchantment. So we took him to a mage healer, and she did what she could. They said it’ll be back to normal in the morning.”

 “Who the fuck did this,” spat Geralt. He looked wildly around the kitchen as though he would find the culprit there.

 “Geralt,” said Vesemir. He leveled a stern gaze at Geralt. “An accident. A young, inexperienced mage tried to help with the bruxa and messed it up.  He’s going to be fine. Everything is fine.” He patted Geralt’s shoulder.

 “His arm is stone!??” said Geralt, bristling. “And he’s fine? Where is he?”

 Vesemir returned to the table and lowered himself back into his chair.  He sopped up the last bits of gravy with the last bits of his bread.

 “He’s in your room, Geralt.” He popped a bite into his mouth.

 “That’s halfway across the castle. What if he needs help!”

 “He doesn’t want our help,” shrugged Lambert.

 “We took him to the healer, then made him comfortable, Geralt,” said Vesemir.  “Now he only wants you.”

 Hearing the words ‘he wants you’ regarding Eskel, pulled a lever in his mind. He quickly turned to leave.

 “But stop running in the halls,” groused Vesemir. “You’re going to trip and break your head and I’ll have two pups laid up.”

 “Yeah,” said Lambert. “Get a grip.” Geralt turned back around long enough to flip him off. 

Vesemir grimaced. “That’s  not  what I meant, Lambert.” He looked back to Geralt. “Just be careful.”

 Geralt nodded. “Alright. Thanks, Vesemir.”

 Lambert snorted, “I’m the one that lugged your hunk of love up the stairs.”

 But Geralt couldn’t be bothered with a comeback. He was already on his way to Eskel.

 He moved through the castle swiftly, leaping up the stairs two at a time. When he reached their door, he stopped short and pulled himself together. It wouldn’t do to burst in like a bull if Eskel were sleeping.

 Geralt gingerly cracked the door open first.

 Eskel’s amber eyes met his and lit up.

 All of these years and it still made Geralt feel like the most important man in creation when Eskel’s eyes lit up at the sight of him.

 And it still happened every time.

 “I knew it was you. I’d know your gait anywhere, even with the panicked stomping,” said Eskel warmly.

 Eskel was fully dressed, laying  on their large four poster bed on top of the colorful patched blanket, pillows propping him up.  He smiled a soft fuzzy smile.

 “Got here as quick as I could,” said Geralt. He let himself in and closed the door behind him softly.

 “I’m fine, Geralt. A bit worried when my arm first clunked to the ground and brought me tumbling with it…”

 Geralt rushed to the bedside, assessing Eskel’s body methodically with his eyes. Everything looked in order.  His strong, handsome love all in one piece. When his gaze fell on the gray stone hand poking from Eskel’s right sleeve, he whistled. He ghosted his fingers across it. It was cold.

 “Does it hurt?”

 “Do I get a kiss hello?”

 Geralt nudged a wisp of Eskel’s hair away from his eyes.

 “Hello,” he murmured. He leaned in and pressed a soft, chaste kiss to Eskel’s forehead. He noted that Eskel’s forehead wasn’t clammy or hot.

 “Are you checkin me for fever?” chuckled Eskel. “I’m fine, Geralt. It’s just. Weird.”

 “It doesn’t hurt?” Geralt reached to probe the arm up to the shoulder, examining as he went.

 “It tugged a little,” said Eskel, “but they gave me magical painkillers. I’m a little loopy but no pain.”

 Geralt took Eskel’s chin and examined his pupils. They were a touch wider than normal, but nothing notable. Eskel eased in his hand and leaned his head closer to Geralt.

 “I should thrash the guy that–”

 “He felt bad enough,” said Eskel. “Believe me, he was wailin. Never been called sir witcher so many times in one night. And I’ll be back to normal in a few hours. My shoulder was stone too and that’s already flesh again.”

 Geralt nodded, and examined Eskel’s shoulder. It was warm and firm and very much made of Eskel. Then he looked up and down Eskel’s body.

“Why are you still dressed?” he asked. 

 “I can’t do it. I’ll just sleep like this.” said Eskel.

 “No,” said Geralt “You need to sleep comfortably.”

 “I don’t know if that’s gonna happen anyway.”

 “We’re gonna try,” said Geralt. He stripped off his own armor and jacket. Then he slipped off his boots and knelt at the end of the bed.

 Eskel absently touched the stone arm with his good one. “Alright. Do your worst.”

 Geralt took one of Eskel’s booted feet in his hand.

 “Hey,” Eskel continued. “Remember when I helped you dress for a whole  week? That time you broke your hand in training?”

 Geralt pulled the laces free from Eskel’s boot and slid it off.

 “How could I forget,” said Geralt. “In fact, wanna know a secret about that?” he asked. “It’ll cheer you up.”

 “What?” asked Eskel. He wiggled his freed toes. 

 Geralt slid off the other boot, gently holding Eskel’s leg in place as he did.

 “It was only a sprain. My hand.”

 “No, it was a break, I remember,” said Eskel.

 Geralt climbed up the bed and knelt next to Eskel.

 He looked into Eskel’s eyes as he pulled the laces on his trousers.

 “That’s because I  told  you it was a break,” he said. He patted Eskel’s hips. “Lift.”

 Eskel tilted his hips up and Geralt dragged down his trousers, shuffling down the bed on his knees as he pulled.

 “Why would you lie about that?” asked Eskel.

 “Pull out your feet,” said Geralt. Eskel obediently lifted one foot, then the other.

 “Because handsome, kind Eskel had been assigned to help me undress. And instead of one night with his full attentions, I got five.”

 “You lied,” said Eskel, hand clutched to his chest in mock offense. “I’m telling Vesemir.”

 “Exaggerated slightly,” corrected Geralt with pursed lips. He folded the trousers and set them aside. His mind noticed the thick thighs and long legs dusted in black hair.  But he stayed on track. 

 “And you counted. Five days was it?” Eskel’s eyes sparkled with teasing mirth.

 “Of course I did. That’s how long it took you to kiss me. There in the dark, with the other boys sleeping.”

 Geralt would never forget the thrill of it, though the thrill was the least important part. Having safe, happy memories in Kaer Morhen at that age, it was like a talisman that got him through his worst moments for years to come. He had clung hard to them in the darkest of times.

 “We didn’t have any idea of what to do with each other then,” said Eskel, huffing softly.

 “Ah but we made up for it with enthusiasm,” said Geralt.

 Geralt crawled back onto the bed and knelt, facing Eskel. His fingers worked deftly, undoing his jacket. He was close enough to Eskel now to feel his eyes on him as he worked. Eskel absently stroked his arm and gazed at him.

 “I have a confession too,” said Eskel.

 “Sit forward,” said Geralt.

 Eskel obediently tried to sit forward but his range of motion was hampered by the arm.

 Geralt tried a different tact, pulling from the sleeve. 

 “Oh yeah, what’s that?” he said.

 “I wasn’t assigned to care for you,” said Eskel. “Another boy was. I traded him my breakfast for a week if he’d get lost.”

 Geralt pulled Eskel’s left arm free. 

 “You did not,” said Geralt. 

 ”I did,” said Eskel.

 ”How did I get so lucky?” Asked Geralt.

 Eskel just shrugged and smiled. “I was in a bad way, even then.”

 ”And you lied too, you minx,” said Geralt. “You know what shocks me most about that?”

 He reached for the stone arm.

 “I’m gonna just move this forward a bit” he said. Eskel nodded.

 “What? Me going against my natural honesty?”

 “No. That you fooled me. You’re the worst liar I’ve ever met in my life.”

 Eskel chuckled. “I didn’t claim to be assigned, exactly. I let you assume it.”

 Geralt tsked. “A misleading lie is still a lie. Now who’s telling Vesemir?”

 Geralt worried his lower lip as he slipped the last bit of the second sleeve off of the stone arm. He could still feel Eskel staring at him, but he didn’t allow himself to return the gaze until the jacket was free. 

 Then he turned to meet Eskel’s shameless stare.

 “You’re so good to me, Wolf,” he whispered, and the notes of awe squeezed at Geralt’s heartstrings.

 “You’re easy to be good to, beloved,” he said. 

 “C’mere. Eskel caught him with his free arm, gently by the neck.

 He slung his leg over Eskel, and straddled him. He sat back on Eskel’s thighs, and he kissed him. There was nothing like it in the world, kissing his Eskel. There was no better home to find at the end of a day. No other place he could be so seen or known. Not like this.

 And he released the anxiety he had felt running up to the keep in one ragged breath.

 “I was terrified,” said Geralt. “Fuck I almost had a heart attack.” He slung his arms around Eskel’s neck.

 “I’m here, Geralt. I’m here. And only a little worse for wear.” 

 His hand was cradling Geralt’s face like it was precious.

 “If anything were to happen to you–” he began.

 “It didn’t. It didn’t,” said Eskel firmly. He pulled Geralt’s cheek to his own. The press of his face and the familiar scarring made him calmer still.  Every last part of Eskel grounded him.

 Mutinous tears well in Geralt’s eyes. The wetness of them fell onto Eskel’s face from his. 

 Eskel pulled back and gently dragged his thumb down Geralt’s cheek.

 “Hey, look at me,” he said. “Look at me. I’m safe. I’m here.”

 Eskel pulled his face in close again. He placed a tender kiss on the corner of one eye. Then the other. Geralt’s lids fluttered closed and his breath stuttered.

 “I love you, wolf,” said Eskel softly, eyes brimming with gratitude.

 “I love you too,” said Geralt.

 Several languid kisses drained the rest of the anxiety from Geralt’s body. All that was left was Eskel’s hand gripping his neck. Eskel’s tongue parting his lips. His hot breath close, his body pressed to his.

 Eskel’s cock thickening underneath him.

 “You didn’t tell me that moron turned your cock to stone too,” he murmured into Eskel’s open lips.

 “Hilarious,” Eskel drawled out. “What a jester. I can’t help what my cock does when you straddle me.”

 “Maybe you should tell your prick you’re in no state for play,” said Geralt smirking.

 I’m in plenty good state for it,” insisted Eskel.

 “Is that so?” Geralt quirked an eyebrow. 

 “Just can’t…move. But I’m at your mercy.” 

Did Eskel…bat his eyelashes?

 “I don’t wanna hurt you,” said Geralt.

 “Nothing can harm me with my white wolf near,” said Eskel.

 “Oooo very nice,” said Geralt. “Very nice. But if you think sweet talk will win you a cock sucking from your beloved, then you are absolutely correct.”

 Eskel grinned wide and triumphant.

 Geralt looked at his arm dubiously. He thumbed the cloth of Eskel’s tunic. “Let’s get rid of this, then we’ll see.”

 The tunic was more difficult to remove than the jacket.

 Just as Eskel rolled his hip up, pressing his half hard cock into Geralt’s ass, the garment, which was halfway over his face, caught on his nose. 

 Geralt burst into laughter. 

“Tell your cock to wait,” said Geralt. “You can’t seduce me with your nose stuck in a tunic.”

 Eskel laughed harder, but was muffled by the fabric.

 “I can’t help it.” He said into the cloth. “I haven’t seen you in weeks, and now you’re straddling me.”  Every other word was slurred as the cloth of the tunic caught in his mouth.

 Geralt finally pulled the tunic free. He let it drop next to them on the bed.

 “Ok, you may continue,” he chuckled.

 His lips sunk into Eskel’s and he ran his fingers over his warm broad shoulders. Now they were bare and lovely and even though Geralt had every freckle memorized, his fingers never tired of exploring them anyway. Greeting them as though his fingers and Eskel’s freckles were reunited loves.

 “Hmmm,” said Eskel. He nudged the fingers of his free hand under Geralt’s tunic and it hitched up, the cool air of the room hitting Geralt’s skin. Eskel had a whisper of a callus on the palm and it drew the neediest sigh from Geralt’s lips.

 Geralt rocked his hips back and the motion tore a low groan from Eskel.

 “Just, sit still,” said Geralt. “Don’t move or do anything that could hurt you.”

 Eskel smiled as innocently as a century old scarred monster hunter can. Which, as it turns out, was surprisingly innocent. “I can do that.”

 Geralt slid down Eskel’s body, letting his fingers trail behind him. His mouth already watered in anticipation of the taste of Eskel between his lips.

 Eskel hissed and rolled his hips when Geralt’s tongue touched his cock.

 Geralt looked up at him sternly. “Careful, don’t yank your arm.”

 “Fuck, I didn’t. I didn’t. Promise. You just, feel so good.

 Geralt smiled and dipped his head again for a second taste. The familiar warmth and musk of Eskel, spread comfort through his body, even as his own cock responded eagerly.

 Eskel’s hips jerked again.

 “I’ll hold you down,” warned Geralt.

 “Go ahead,” said Eskel. 

 Geralt pinned Eskel’s hips as he drew his half hard cock into his mouth. He savored it. Rolling it on his tongue as it grew thicker, slicker, and more difficult to manage without the help of his hands.

 He let go of one of Eskel’s hips, while keeping the other pinned. Eskel settled his large hand to rest on Geralt’s head. 

 The feeling of Eskel’s hand heavy on his head as he bobbed filled him with the most content pleasure. It was a gesture of love. It’s not as though Eskel needed to guide his movements or show him what he liked.

 Geralt was an eager pupil in their youth. He’d learned fast. And as they grew together and actually learned what to do with each other, sexually and emotionally, their bond grew with each passing day.

 He knew every ridge, every dimple of Eskel’s body. Eskel’s cock was as familiar to him as his own, though it brought him considerably more pleasure than his own.

 He also knew what brought Eskel pleasure as surely as he knew his favorite songs.

 He knew the exact pressure to apply when he first wrapped his fingers around his shaft. 

 He knew how soft to make the tiny flicks of his tongue at his slit.

 He knew that when Eskel’s sweet huffs of pleasures turned to whines, that his beloved wanted more.

 He knew that swirling and slurping at Eskel’s head as he slid his hand at the base, made him harder still.

 He knew that when Eskel’s fingers tightened in his hair, that his own moaning on his cock would assure Eskel he was delicious, savored, and it would release him to even greater heights of bliss.

 And when he tasted precum and knew Eskel was reaching frantic arousal, he knew that catching Eskel’s eyes while he sucked reverently made his eyes blow wide. 

 Geralt worked every touch and trick he knew.  Eskel responded passionately and Geralt had to actually use a considerable amount of strength to keep him pinned to the bed, so he didn’t jostle his arm.

 Eskel’s hand flew to the sheets and gripped them as he keened and squirmed.

 Geralt pinned him tighter to the bed and bobbed faster. He knew his spittle and Eskel’s precum was slathered on his face by now.

 Wallowing in Eskel was the best use of his time on earth, as far as he was concerned.

 And when Eskel grew rigid and squeaked airy squeals from his mouth and released into him, salty and warm, Geralt felt as though he were fulfilling his highest purpose.

 “Geralt. Fuck. Geralt.”

 He slurped and licked his way off of Eskel’s cock, swallowing everything he could get his tongue on.

 Then he gently kissed the tip and sat back to meet Eskel’s hazy adoring gaze. He petted Eskel’s thighs. 

 “Better, love?” He asked with a teasing lilt.

 Eskel’s broad chest rose and fell with heavy, blissful breaths.

 “Much,” he said with a grin. “Now come here and let me finish you.”

 “No, no, no,” said Geralt. He could feel the heaviness of his cock tenting his trousers. But it wasn’t going to kill him. He was a grown man, not a desperate adolescent.

 Eskel whined. “Please. One handed may not be my fanciest work, but I just want to see your face screwed up and panting for me. I need it. The healer said that positive thinking will make me heal faster. And I’d positively like to see that.”

 Geralt laughed and unlaced his trousers. “I don’t think that’s what they meant. But fine, you’ve convinced me.”

 He shoved his trousers and underclothes off and peeled away his tunic. He crawled up to kneel in front of Eskel, nude.

 Eskel also knew his body like a song. He gripped Geralt’s cock and he struggled not to bend over in shocked pleasure. He held himself up by cupping and fondling Eskel’s pecs which clenched and bounced with the effort of his movements. 

 What he could do with one hand was magnificent actually.

 “Touch yourself too,” said Eskel.

 So Geralt caressed Eskel with one hand and cupped his own balls with the other, sliding his hands around to magnify the pleasure Eskel was wringing from him.

 “Fuck. Eskel.”

 “Go ahead,” said Eskel. “Cum for me. Wanna see it.”

 Geralt lost control of his voice. He keened softly but wildly to the rhythm of Eskel’s strokes. 

 He clenched his fists and face and cried out when he released into Eskel’s hand. He reveled in the waves of pleasure that crested and drained gently from his body. Eskel gripped and stroked him until he shivered from overstimulation. 

 Geralt sat back with a giant sigh, rolling his neck.

 “Fuck. You’re good at that.”

 Eskel grinned his shit eating grin.  “Had the best teacher.”

 Geralt winked at him then climbed off to find water and a rag. He cleaned them both up gingerly. Then he put away their clothes and snuffed out the lanterns.

 Eskel’s eyes followed him lazily in fucked out tranquility.

 “You have the best ass. Never put on your clothes again.”

 Geralt just shook his head, but didn’t hesitate to say, “and it’s all yours.”

 Geralt climbed back into bed, and tugged the covers out from under Eskel and helped him move down so he could lay flat.  Since Eskel couldn’t move much, Geralt molded himself around his body. He tucked himself under Eskel’s arm and nuzzled into his neck.

 “Good night, beloved.”

 “Good night, dearheart.

 And they fell into the softest rest.

 And during the night, when Eskel’s arm returned to its natural state, he flopped over and drew Geralt fully into his arms.

 “Thank you,” he whispered. For taking care of me.”

 “Always will.” Murmured Geralt. “Always will.”

———

This piece was for @vvitchering and anyone else who has fallen in love with these two.

Want some Sunday reading? I have updated Posada Remix, my Book!Geralt/Jaskier Into the Witcher-verse fic.

Book!Geralt spends a few days in Oxenfurt with Jaskier. They give each other some things they both desperately need.

Book!Geralt also finds out that Netflix!Geralt hit Jaskier the day they met. He takes it about as well as you might expect.

3800 ish words

OnAO3 and below.

———————

Jaskier

Geralt and Jaskier had enjoyed ten years of friendship thus far, yet the witcher continued to downplay his affection for the bard in public. It might have hurt Jaskier, if Geralt weren’t so thoroughly unsuccessful in his efforts.

At the banquet in Cintra, the witcher told everyone that he was merely there to help the idiot bard. But his actions shouted louder than his bluster. Everyone knew.

Why would Geralt be by his side, traveling the continent together if he hated him? Certainly Jaskier didn’t have the power to compel the witcher to do anything. And Geralt moved heaven and earth if Jaskier were injured or hurt. He stepped in when he was threatened.

He could grunt all he wanted. People knew.

They were friends. The very best.

In fact, Jaskier had been with Geralt long enough to be widely and permanently associated with him. Jaskier puffed up like a crested lark when he heard himself referred to as Geralt’s bard.

He practically swaggered into taverns and festivals walking at Geralt’s side, the witcher with his swords and him with his lute case.

The witcher and his bard.

But sometimes, in the shadowed corners of his heart, he wished for more.

For Geralt to shout, “That is my friend”.

And sometimes, in the still further reaches of his soul, he wished for even more.

For people to say:

There goes Jaskier. He is not only the keeper of Geralt’s legend, but also of his heart.

But Geralt had gone with Yen. And Jaskier had come back to Oxenfurt and fallen apart.

Until he was delivered by a man he thought he would never see again.

And now he had several days with this man. Days. He wished it were more, but he would take what the universe provided and he would cherish it. 

And now this Geralt, the sinewy one who wore his feelings much closer to his skin, stepped out into the street with Jaskier.

They were outside together for the first time in the bright day. The residents of Oxenfurt streamed by, their features sharp and clear in the late morning sun. Students chattered and flirted. Mothers herded their children away from hooves and wheels.

The people parted around Geralt and Jaskier, then dove ahead, keeping time with the demands of their lives. But not before many of them spared a glance at the witcher and the bard.

Jaskier had only enjoyed two visits from this Geralt. So his urge to lean down and catch Geralt’s hand caught on doubt. These people would see. Would think of them as a pair.

This Geralt lived untold dimensions away. He couldn’t be rightly thought of in this way. They weren’t like the teenaged sweethearts proudly clutching hands, on their way to the first of many dances. They weren’t like the elderly couple, slowly picking their way to the park, clasping each other comfortably.

But then Jaskier remembered.

What do you want to do with your precious moment?

So Jaskier made a choice. A seemingly insignificant choice. Just a dip of his arm. But a choice nonetheless.

He reached for Geralt’s hand.

Geralt looked ahead intently as they walked, weaving in and out of the crowd. When Jaskier took his hand he twitched. Then he smiled. It was a small thing too, the smile. But it reached up to crinkle the corners of his eyes. He glanced at Jaskier ever so fleetingly and winked.

Then he threaded his fingers through Jaskier’s and pulled them tight.

As they walked, their arms swung gently together. Geralt used the leverage to tug Jaskier out of the way of potholes and merchants carrying goods.

When people saw them, they thought: the witcher loves him.

Jaskier felt like his.

And he preened. He couldn’t have stopped himself if he tried.

It was market day and wooden stalls lined the busy streets and alleys. Smells inundated the air, of burnt wood, new leather goods, and a hundred different kinds of food and drink.

“Ooooo, let’s go look over there,” said Jaskier. He pointed to a wooden stall with a tiny older woman behind it. She was slight and draped with colorful shawls. In front of her, practically at her eye level, were phalluses of leather and polished wood lined up like soldiers. There were beads of many different arrangements and apparent uses. There were tassels and whips. Vials and pots of slick in different scents and flavors.

Geralt’s footsteps stuttered.

“Ohhhhh come on now,” said Jaskier, laughing gleefully. He was the one tugging this time. They stood in front of the stall, and Jaskier eagerly perused the merchandise.

“Hello gentlemen,” said the woman, in a thick northern accent, her gray hair falling down in ringlets. “I’m Violet. If you have any questions, let me know.”

She noticed Jaskier’s eyes fall upon a tray filled with crystal beads strung on long winding strings. He couldn’t tell what they were for. Like any good saleswoman, she seized upon his interest.

“Oh, so you have discriminating taste, young man.” She picked up the beads. They were in two parts. “You would look lovely in these, and I think your gentleman would agree,” she smiled mischievously at Geralt.

Geralt averted his eyes hurriedly but he also drew closer and hung his finger in the waistband of Jaskier’s trousers.

“They are meant to be worn on an unclothed torso and around a bare waist. It makes you feel divine, like a worshipped, adorned thing while you are in the act of love.”

“We’ll take them,” said Geralt. He reached for a thin circlet lying next to it. “This too.”

Jaskier flushed with joy. They had just left the house and he was already picturing dragging Geralt back into it, and riding him, shoulders and hips lined with sparkling beads.  But they needed food. And also, an idle walk around the pier with his witcher sounded like heaven.

The vendor selling the turkey legs was a far less pleasant person. He pretended as though he could neither hear nor see Geralt. Jaskier quickly wiggled to the front, and would have made a scene if the man hadn’t recognized him and quickly served them apologetically. Then they walked down to the docks and sat with their legs over the edge, listening to the ocean waves and sucking the turkey bones dry.

Jaskier noticed that Geralt was brooding.

“I’ll happily go back and piss on that wanker’s stall,” he offered. He shaded his eyes with his hands and licked his teeth clean. Geralt smiled, squinting into the sunlight.

Geralt’s mood seemed easily punctured by those who skirted around him or avoided his gaze. But it rebounded quickly with a kind word.

So Jaskier resolved to remind him, as many times as it took, that he was accepted as he was. He resolved to ease this man’s way in his world. It was the least he could do.

When he asked Geralt whether they could go to the tavern to meet his friends, Geralt said yes again quickly.

But he still visibly eased when Jaskier reminded him that he bragged all year long that he was friends with the White Wolf. Anyone at Oxenfurt with a pulse knew who Geralt was, and knew that to insult him would call down the chaotic rage of Jaskier, which no one in their right mind would curse themselves with.

And Geralt, wiry and scarred from combat, relaxed his shoulders at his words. His face opened. He took to this kind of treatment quickly.

They played strip Gwent with Jaskier’s friends and Jaskier draped himself across Geralt to dramatically hide his nipples when he was losing. Geralt whispered in his ear:

“May I kiss you?” His thumbs slid along Jaskier’s neck.

Jaskier’s lips were already on his.

And later, when they were tipsy, and their stolen kisses had devolved into full sloppy making out, and Jaskier’s friends had taken to throwing bread at them, they decided it was time to go home.

They climbed up to the roof of Jaskier’s house and put down a blanket. They laid next to one another and watched the stars twinkle on.

Then Jaskier asked Geralt to take off his clothes and he placed the circlet on his witcher’s head. Then he stripped off his own clothes and draped himself in the beads and fucked Geralt until he trembled. Until tears fell from them both.

Then they went back inside, and slept in each other’s arms.

——–

Jaskier was first to wake the next morning. He savored the sound of Geralt’s heavy breathing. Jaskier let his fingertips dance along the white hair fanning out on the bed. He remembered that he had three more days to do this.

He threw his leg over Geralt and rubbed his calf against his.

“You awake?” he whispered, a little too loudly, at the back of Geralt’s head.

“Mmmmmm,” said Geralt.

“Oh, good,” said Jaskier. He grunted with effort as he reached for Geralt’s side, pulling him over so that he flopped onto his back. He raised Geralt’s arm and snuggled up under it.

Geralt chuckled. “I’m just a pillow and a pair of arms to you.”

“And?” asked Jaskier. “Is there something wrong with that? Speak, pillow.”

“Not a thing,” said Geralt groggily. “Not a thing, sweetness.” He tipped Jaskier’s head around and kissed him. His eyes were still closed and he hummed as he kissed him.

They rolled around in bed for hours, only getting up to piss and wash up, then to plop back into bed into each other’s arms. As the moments wore on, they talked at length about nothing at all. Every so often they would change position. Jaskier would lay on Geralt’s belly. Then Jaskier would sit up against the bed frame, and Geralt would lay in his lap.

They chatted about spring in Oxenfurt and Geralt told him stories of the academy past and future. It didn’t matter whether it was exactly the same here. Jaskier just liked listening to him.

They compared spices from dimensions, (“What do you roast your quail in?”) and debated whether the music would be the same (“Are string instruments used in three piece bands here?”). Also, “Is the ocean water cold or tepid?” And “Can your werewolves bite a man and make another werewolf?”

They both knew they could be asking questions that would make them insane. Like…“Did my Aunt die of typhoid there?” Or “Have you been to Kaer Morhen and how many wolves are left in the school?”

But they didn’t. They knew it would puncture what they had. And what they had was precious.

Jaskier did have one question. And after a few comfortable, delicious hours, he decided he needed to know.

“Why only five days?” Jaskier asked. “Why not two or ten? Or thirty?” Or forever.

Geralt was quiet for a moment. He pulled Jaskier closer, and kicked off the sheets, as the room was growing warmer.

“The way Ciri explained it was this. Every time we make a choice, a new dimension springs into existence where you made the other choice.”

“Any choice?”

“Well,” said Geralt, looking up at the ceiling in thought. “Not every choice. But any choice that affects other people.”

“Shit,” said Jaskier. “That’s still a lot of bloody dimensions.”

“Infinite,” said Geralt. “And that’s what makes it so hard to find one. There are just too damn many. After a few days, Ciri wasn’t sure she would be able to find me again. She has to get me out before the odds turn against us and I’m cut off permanently.”

“So no coming back?” asked Jaskier. His voice came out smaller than he intended. He ran the pad of his finger in circles around Geralt’s belly button.

“I don’t rightly know. To be honest, I don’t understand most of it. I do as my girls tell me to.”

Jaskier pursed his lips. “Sounds wise.”

“And they don’t know how coming here will affect me.”

“But you came anyway,” said Jaskier. It made him feel like the most important man in all of creation.

“I did.”

“How do you feel? Is it affecting your physiology?” Jaskier lay his hand flat now, and cupped Geralt’s nearest pec, playing with the white hair there, feeling his heartbeat.

“I feel fine,” said Geralt. “I don’t know how much that’s worth.”

“A lot,” said Jaskier. “It’s the most important thing.” Then he got a twinkle in his eye. “I know my physiology has changed with you being here.”

“Oh yeah?” asked Geralt. He turned his head and nipped at Jaskier’s ear.

“Yes,” Jaskier giggled and pushed his face away. “My prick is harder.”

Jokes aside, Geralt had changed him in ways he hadn’t anticipated.

“Meeting you even for that afternoon changed the choices I’ve made, I think,” said Jaskier after a moment.

“How is that?” asked Geralt. He turned to look straight at Jaskier, and his breath stuttered at the loveliness of his feline gaze.

“Well,” he said, recovering, “it changed how I reacted to him.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” said Geralt. He looked down. “Did you mistake him for me? Were you upset?”

“No. Of course there are the similarities. White hair. Witcher.”

“Is he handsomer?” asked Geralt, teasingly. He nudged Jaskier.

“This is a devious line of questioning,” said Jaskier. “And I won’t be drawn into your trap, you siren.”

“Fair enough,” said Geralt, chuckling softly.

“But I did feel it. I knew he was you, here. I can’t describe how.”

“Ciri says it’s like we have the same footprint on the universe.”

“Yes, that’s it,” said Jaskier emphatically. “I never thought I’d see you again, and I was grieving it. And to see someone who seemed so much like you…it was. A gift.”

“What did you say to him?” asked Geralt. Suddenly he sounded like he was stepping around glass. Jaskier nuzzled into him.

“I said the same things. It worked so well on you.”

“Makes sense,” said Geralt. “So you –”

“I complimented his brooding, bread pants, all of it.”

“The beauty of being a poet. And what did he do?” asked Geralt.

“He got up and left,” said Jaskier.

“Really? And asked you to follow?” asked Geralt.

“No. He expressly told me not to follow.”

Geralt scratched his head. “What? Why?”

“He just didn’t want company.” Jaskier shrugged.

“So what did you do?”

“I followed him,” said Jaskier.

At the time, there hadn’t seemed to be any other choice.

“I offered to be his barker,” he continued. “He kept saying I couldn’t come. But part of me just refused to believe we weren’t meant for each other in some capacity, so I followed. And I don’t know if I would’ve done that. It’s rude to ignore someone’s wishes and follow them even after they punch you…”

Geralt’s eyes bugged, and he fell alarmingly quiet. His arms slid from Jaskier’s shoulders and he sat up on the bed, twisting around to look at him.

Anyone who has ever been in a noisy tavern with a live band and has been screaming to an attractive person just to be heard over the din, and the music has stopped right as they’ve shouted “go round back and fuck” then they would know how Jaskier felt after he said “punched you.”

The words hung uneasily.

“After he what?” Each word coldly punctured the air.

“Eh. Um.” Said Jaskier. He replayed what he had said in his mind. But there was nothing inaccurate. He rearranged the pillow and sat back. “Punched? Me?”

“He fucking punched you?” said Geralt. His words had somehow grown colder. He turned around completely and sat cross legged, facing Jaskier.

“Um. Not as hard as he can punch of course. I was fine, Geralt. I only had to catch my breath.”

Geralt rubbed his face and slapped his hands back down on the mattress. He looked at Jaskier again with disbelieving eyes. He spoke again, slowly and carefully, counting his words out on his fingers.

“He punched an unarmed,” (one finger) “untrained,” (two fingers) “teenaged bard” (three fingers) “who looked at him as though he hung the moon and the stars?”

“Ahhhhh,” said Jaskier, nervously. “Yes? He didn’t know me yet. I wasn’t yet his friend, Geralt.”

“It doesn’t make a difference,” spit Geralt heatedly. “I would never do that. I’ll kill a man if he’s armed and poses a threat. But I would never–” his voice broke off with a whiff of disbelief. He shook his head slowly. “Are you sure that was me?”

Different, seemingly inconsistent feelings twisted together in Jaskier’s gut. He felt incredibly important that this man would be so protective of him. It healed something in him he hadn’t even known was cracked. But Geralt was his loyal friend. His very best friend. He felt the need to defend him.

But this was Geralt, so he didn’t feel the need as urgently as he would have with someone else. Fuck, dimensional travel was never going to be something he could wrap his mind around.

“He didn’t want me to get hurt,’ said Jaskier.

“So he hurt you,” Geralt deadpanned.

“I was fine, Geralt, fine.” Jaskier wrapped his arms around Geralt’s neck and looked closely into his eyes. “You’re too hard on him. We are all hardest on ourselves. You should have compassion for yourself.” He nodded. “Which is also him.”

Geralt pinched the bridge of his nose.

“It just. Makes no fuckin sense. We have increased strength. Fighting abilities. Shit, Dandelion lectures me for not punching people he thinks I should. But I won’t give anyone reason to think what they already do. That we’re violent, unfeeling animals.”

“Oh, darling,” said Jaskier. He kissed Geralt’s nose. He scrunched it. “It was nothing. I’ve had much worse. I’m a man who habitually puts his sausage in the wrong royal pantry. I’ve been punched much harder by men I’ve respected far less. Anyway, this was a decade ago. He wouldn’t do it now. I wouldn’t do it now.”

“You wouldn’t do what now?” asked Geralt. “What did you do wrong?”

Jaskier shrugged. “Ignored his wishes. I mean, sure, I ignore some of his wishes. Like if he wants to stink when he should bathe, or brood when he should come have a drink. But if he told me he didn’t want me now, I would leave. Not that he would tell me to leave. He loves me. As a friend at least. But everyone deserves to make their choices. So I would do it differently now.”

“I’m sorry, I’m just…do you have any idea–” Geralt’s voice broke off again with a disgruntled puff. Jaskier stroked his rough hand and waited.

“–how lonely I was when I met you?”

“No, I don’t. He doesn’t talk about it.”

Geralt nodded and stared down at his hands. They were clasped now in his lap. They were both wearing underclothes for sleeping, as they had both already gotten up for various things. The white of his linen braies set off his skin, which was more golden.

“Well. I had travelled for ages…ages by myself. Ciri wasn’t born yet. I hadn’t any friends other than my fellow wolves, and I only saw them in the winters. And people treated me worse then. Before your songs. All I had was loneliness, and hatred in people’s faces.”

Jaskier felt a lump rising in his throat. The thought of Geralt suffering so. So alone.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“Dandelion teases me that I was desperate for company. And I’d never admit it but I was. Desperate. Even though I did go by and visit Nenneke from time to time, I still had to hunt. Be on the path.”

Jaskier tried to remember who Nenneke was. But he didn’t want to ask. Geralt was talking about something that made him vulnerable. So he clasped his hands and listened.

“Meeting him still changed everything for me. He accepted me. Got me out of my head. And where else is a witcher going to get poetry? Music? I haven’t let him go since. He’s my opposite and I need that. I need him.”

“I’m glad you have him,” said Jaskier.

“How can a lonely man who is given loyal friendship, reject it? And for him, how can a man who is reviled, see adoring, loving eyes and…punch them?”

“It was more a punch to the the stomach,” said Jaskier. Seeing Geralt’s eyes flare, he hurriedly continued. “I don’t know darling. I don’t know why you make such different choices. You’d have to talk to each other to know that. Exchange life stories. And you’d never be guaranteed to find it.”

“I suppose.”

Jaskier decided to try for a change of subject.

“May I ask you something, Geralt?”

“Of course.”

“How do you feel? When I talk about him? He is you. But he isn’t. Do you feel jealous? Or flattered?”

Geralt inhaled and exhaled slowly. His lean, toned chest rising and falling. “It’s right that you have feelings for him. Me.” He smiled. “Who else would you travel with? Be with?”

“Who else?” said Jakier, dramatically tapping his lips with his finger as though in deep thought. “Eskel is extremely attractive.”

“True,” said Geralt, grinning. Jaskier was glad to see him grinning again. “But what about Lambert?”

“Oooohooohooo,” said Jaskier, “the continent wouldn’t survive two mouthy divas with poor impulse control traveling together.”

“You’re right, I don’t think it would. Fires, explosion, chaos,” said Geralt.

“So you’re ok?” said Jaskier.

“I didn’t say that,” said Geralt. He turned and plopped back down next to Jaskier. “I’m still furious. He’s had you for ten years and hasn’t…taken you into his arms. Hasn’t told you he loves you. And that’s all I want to do and I—I barely get the chance. It just isn’t…”

“Fair?” Asked Jaskier.

“Yes. I guess that’s right,” said Geralt. “But I know life isn’t fair or unfair. I’m an old man, I know that. I’m just being a petulant child.”

“It’s ok. You’re allowed.” Said Jaskier. He kissed Geralt on the cheek. “You’re allowed to want more of me. And to notice that it’s not fair.”

“Thank you,” said Geralt, smiling crookedly.

Geralt craned his neck to kiss his lips. And then he held him, stroking his arm. His neck. Geralt seemed to want to touch him everywhere, and found his hands limiting.

“He fucking punched you. I would like to punch him. See how he likes it,” grumbled Geralt. “Asshole witcher.”

“Duly noted.” said Jaskier. “Then it’s a good thing you aren’t going to see him. You are coming to my graduation party.”

“I am.”

“After tonight, you’ll be sleeping with a master in the fine arts.” Jaskier flourished with his hands.

“I can hardly wait,” said Geralt.

Jaskier climbed onto Geralt’s lap and folded his legs around the witcher’s torso. He held his face in both of his hands and looked at him carefully. Gently. “You know I love you?” he asked. "Because I do.”

Geralt wrapped his arms around Jaskier’s waist, lay his head on his shoulder, and squeezed him tight.

"I love you too.”

kueble:

This is part of the Kitten Jaskier verse.

Explicit. Warnings: kitten play, anal plugs, Dom/sub.2,400 words.

Geraskier

—

Jaskier steps out of the shower and dries off as quickly as he can. He hopes he didn’t take too long, but the thought of sitting around without freshening up after a long day at work was just too much for him. It should feel weird that Geralt is perfectly happy to chill on his couch and wait for him, but things have been going really well lately. He thinks about the hours he’d spent last week looking for a larger apartment and wonders if it’s time to bring up moving in together. Things are so perfect that he hates to upset the balance, but he’d love to wake up wrapped around Geralt every morning.

Still, he shouldn’t leave Geralt alone too long. He runs a brush through his hair and does his best to dry it with the towel before giving up and figuring it’s warm enough in his apartment to let it air-dry. He wraps the towel around his hips and heads towards his bedroom, stopping in his tracks when he spots Geralt sitting in the middle of his bed with one of his kitten play sets in front of him. It’s Jaskier’s favorite - a gorgeous powder blue that brings out his eyes - and is one of the few sets he has with an actual plug for the tail.

Keep reading

s-a-b-i-n-e:

All those lonely miles

Chapter 1

The scrunching of the snow underneath his boots sounds loud in the eerie silence of the night. Jaskier pulls the collar of his coat closer to his neck and leans against the wind as he passes the corpse of the basilisk lying shattered in the courtyard.

He stops at the hitching post where Geralt tied down his horse, and with a sick feeling of satisfaction, he pats the mount’s neck.

“You’ll be good for me, won’t you?” he murmurs. The horse watches him with attentive eyes and neighs.

“Good,” Jaskier mumbles and closes the buttons of his doublet and then of his coat. They are meant to mainly look good, but if he wants to leave the mountains behind without freezing to death, vanity and fashion need to take a step back, and the buttons will have to prove their true worth.

Jaskier unknots the reins and throws them over the horse’s head. He looks up at the keep, so much larger, so much worse than he had imagined it, made it sound in his songs. But he understands his friend Geralt better now, having been here. This is his home. This is where he grew to become the man he is now, where he recharged every winter they spent apart. For sure not a place for warmth. Not a place to learn to deal with emotions beyond reining them in during a hunt and keeping people at arm’s length.

The bard purses his lips, his jaws clenched. No wonder that even after decades, he couldn’t carve out a tiny space for himself in the witcher’s heart. No, for that to be achieved, one needs destiny, and that one isn’t on Jaskier’s side.

Granted, he comes from a privileged place. Not one filled with love either, but at least one needn’t worry to freeze under the blankets while being fully clothed.

The events in the hall have sobered him up, but he can feel the weight of a hangover combined with an adrenaline crash pulling on every muscle of his body.

What a fragile thing the human body is. No wonder Geralt never meant to burden himself with someone as fleeting as Jaskier. Humans must be like annoying midges for long-living creatures like him and his witch, irritating, but easy to slap away.

Keep reading

Finished (20,045 words)

darlin’ i’d wait for you (1/3)

On a hot summer day on the side of the road, Jaskier decides to do what he does best: speak his mind. 

Soo… I’ve been kind of MIA lately, and I’m struggling a lot with writing - if I do, it’s not for the Witcher. But! This little fic has been almostfinished for 1.5 montsh now, and I’m hoping that publishing it will give me the motivation to finishing it! So. I hope you enjoy it.

Thanks to @little-piece-of-tamlin​ for beta-reading <3

wc: 1.1k
cw: none
tags: fluff, first kiss, idiots in love

read it also on ao3!

It was quiet. Quiet and peaceful, not even the sound of birds chirping in the air.

Jaskier didn’t blame them — it was too hot to function, the sun high up in the sky shining brightly and mercilessly.

It had been his idea to stop by the side of the road, next to a few trees granting some desperately needed shadow. And whilst it was true that he would have collapsed had they continued marching, he knew for a fact that Geralt was just as exhausted as he was.

He had been walking on foot alongside Jaskier for a while as not to put unnecessary strain on Roach, and even though he may have appeared just fine to an outsider, Jaskier had been able to see right through him: see the small droplets of sweat on his forehead, the slight slump in his shoulders, and hear the sound of his breathing — something that wasn’t audible unless Geralt was seriously winded.

The dark colour of his armour only added to the Witcher’s discomfort, and so Jaskier decided to play damsel, or rather, bard in distress to save them both from a heat stroke.

Which was why he was now sitting on the ground, his back leaning against a tree, notebook in one hand and quill in the other, scribbling down his thoughts and hoping that maybe a new song would be hiding between the lines.

Roach was nibbling on some grass and Geralt was sat opposite him, polishing his swords with meticulous care. It was mesmerizing to watch, the way he slid a piece of cloth up the length of the blade and then down again, sometimes stopping to rub a particularly nasty spot of something — Jaskier really didn’t want to know.

As he gazed back down onto his notebook again, continuing his stream of consciousness, he could feel it. It took all his willpower not to smile, but he remained seemingly oblivious.

It had been happening for a while now — Jaskier would stare at Geralt and then, a few moments later, Geralt would stare at Jaskier. He didn’t know if the Witcher knew just how often he was staring at him, but the bard could definitely feel Geralt’s eyes on himself, watching as he wrote down word after word.

 Maybe it’s time to say something.

He didn’t remember writing this consciously, but the words were there, the ink still wet to the touch and bleeding a bit into the paper.

Maybe it was time to say something. And maybe it was the summer heat making him delirious, the next source of water still a few hours away. And maybe it was the fact that a decade was enough time spent waiting, hoping, second-guessing. Maybe.

But along all those things, there was one certainty, had been for a while now:

“Geralt, I know that you’re in love with me.”

Silence. As expected.

What was unexpected was the fact that Jaskier felt calm. He had thought that his heart would be racing, that he would feel panic and the overwhelming urge to run.

But none of these things happened.

Instead, there was only calmness, both inside and out.

He could sense that Geralt was still looking at him, and he knew that he had heard him. Because it wasn’t true that Geralt didn’t speak.

It didn’t take words for someone’s voice to be heard, and Jaskier had learned very quickly that Geralt was willing to share his thoughts if one was willing to listen.

He only hoped that he had understood him correctly as he continued to speak:

“I know from the way you look at me, even though you try to hide it. I know, because,” he swallowed, “because I look at you the same.”

Finally, he let his eyes dart back up only to meet Geralt’s. And even though he had looked into the Witcher’s eyes a million times, this felt different — delicate and raw and intimate, and Jaskier was unable to look away as all the things he had been keeping inside for so long were finally spilling out.

“It doesn’t take a genius to notice it, you know? I’m sure half the Continent knows that I love you, I don’t exactly try to hide it.”

He chuckled. For years he had carried this with him, kept it buried, and now the words were leaving his mouth like he was asking Geralt what he wanted to eat for dinner.

“Maybe you have known for a while, too, I don’t know. But if you didn’t, well, then now you know.”

Geralt was still staring at him, his body so still that one could have mistaken him for a statue.

“For a while I was unsure. I would tell myself that surely I was making this up, that there was no way that you could return my feelings. The White Wolf. Lonesome and broody.”

Jaskier shifted and put his notebook to the side, crossing his legs.

“But you are not as secretive as you think you are. I make a living reading my audience, guessing what they want to hear before they know it. It was only a matter of time before I figured it out.”

At that, the Witcher looked down, and the loss of eye contact felt like a slap in the face.

“It’s alright, Geralt. There’s no reason to be ashamed. We don’t have to do anything about this, ever, not unless you want to. And if you don’t want to, that’s alright. I won’t judge, I won’t ever bring it up again. I just wanted to say it once. Because there is no ‘what if’ when all cards are on the table, and I have never been someone to not take a chance. So. This is it. No more hidden glances.”

Even now, voicing his greatest fear and quite literally putting his heart, his fate into Geralt’s hands, Jaskier felt calm. It was a relief, not having to hide anymore. He had done his part, and whatever Geralt would decide to do was up to him.

Jaskier loved him, and what was love if not forgiveness? What was love if not the invitation to have your heart broken over and over again, and simply hoping that the other person wouldn’t?

What was love, if not accepting that some things just weren’t up to you?

Geralt loved him, and there was nothing more that he could ask for.

As he picked up his notebook again, he heard the Witcher clear his throat.

He didn’t look up, only listened.

“You’re— I— I just— Give me time, Jaskier. I need time.”

A soft smile appeared on his lips. He nodded.

“And please,” Geralt’s voice was quiet but warm.

“Stay.”

tagging@luteandsword​@natilieal@herostag​@clarebear66​ ✨

Next chapter of my cat witcher OC (Nix) fic. See the Masterpost for content/warnings. Masterpost here.

An injury (it’s fine), some PTSD, some talking & comfort <3

-

Nix was washing down the table in the hall when Eskel returned from hunting, pushing through the front door while holding his side. When Nix spotted him her hand froze mid-swipe.

“Eskel?” she asked, concerned. She started walking towards him, but when she smelled blood she started running. “What happened?”

“Wyvern thought that deer looked like a good meal too, I guess.” He chuckled, slightly out of breath. A blood stain was blooming further out underneath his hand. “It’s not that bad.”

Nix ignored his words and gently pulled his hand away, then carefully peeled his gambeson aside. Her fingers were stained with blood and her hands started to shake. A memory flashed before her eyes, her hands covered in Aleks’s blood, and she shook her head fiercely. Not now. She needed to focus on helping Eskel. She took his sword belt and gambeson off, but she was starting to tremble, her breathing growing ragged.

“Hey, Nix, it’s alright, I’ll be fine,” Eskel tried to reassure her.

Lambert and Aiden came down the stairs together.

“Well, where’s my dinner?” Lambert called out jokingly to his brother, but as he focused on the scene in front of them his breath hitched and he hurried forwards, Aiden on his heels. “Hey, what the fuck, you’re supposed to take down the wildlife, ‘skel, not the other way ‘round.”

“You know, I knew I was forgetting something,” Eskel responded sarcastically, wincing slightly.

Aiden came up beside Nix, who was starting to lose control of her breathing, and gently touched her elbow. “Nix, love, hey.”

She jolted at the touch, looking at him with wide wet eyes.

“Here,” Aiden continued, “we’ll let Lambert take care of Eskel, ok? He’s going to be alright. Let’s go wash your hands.”

“So much blood,” she said in a shaky whisper.

“It’s ok. We’re going to clean it all up, and Lambert’s gonna patch up Eskel good as new. Everything’s going to be ok.” He steered her towards the kitchen with his arm wrapped around her shoulders. He brought her to the sink and gently washed her hands as she stared ahead with glazed eyes, drawing in gasping breaths. “What’s the furthest sound you can hear?” he asked, nudging her shoulder gently.

“Uhm… there’s a mouse in the cellar,” she took a shaky breath, “wait, I think there’s a bird, nesting or something, on the far wall outside.”

“Good,” Aiden soothed, “and what’s the faintest thing you can smell? Can you smell the chickens outside?”

She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. She pushed past the baking scents in the kitchen, the blood in the dining area, willing down her speeding pulse that came with it, the fresh air that had come in the door… “The snow in the air… Lil Bleater’s enclosure. Pine trees.”

“Perfect. What’s the softest thing in this room?” Aiden asked quietly. Nix glanced around the room before landing her gaze back on Aiden. She leaned forward and nuzzled into his neck, and he wrapped his arms around her.

“You,” she murmured, and he snorted into her hair, stroking her back lightly.

“Feel a bit better?”

“Yeah. Thanks Aiden.”

“No problem, kit. Let’s make some tea for everyone, hmm? And we can put out some of the sweet buns Vesemir baked earlier. We can have it around the fire.”

“Ok.”

By the time they’d made tea and put together a tray, Eskel and Lambert had come back downstairs from the infirmary. Eskel was wearing a fresh set of clothes.

“Ah, refreshments, I’ve earned them,” Lambert happily declared.

Eskel snorted. “Who got injured?”

“Who patched you up?!” Lambert retorted.

Eskel caught Nix staring. “Right as rain! Lambert got me all patched up.”

She gave a tight smile and nodded.

“So, do I need to go hunting now, since you failed at your job?” Lambert asked teasingly.

“You can have all the wyvern your stomach desires, left it outside for you. Maybe if you burn off some energy dealing with that, you’ll have less for your noisy night-time—” Eskel was cut off by Lambert.

“Oi, alright! That’s fine. You know, maybe I’m in the mood for goat—” Lambert was cut off by a growl from Eskel at the same time as Aiden’s elbow found his ribs.

“Drink your fucking tea, would you?” Aiden demanded.

“Alright, alright. Everyone is so touchy,” Lambert grumbled, picking up his cup. He glanced at Nix, who was staring into the fire, then back into his drink. He cleared his throat. “Good tea,” he offered. When he got no response, he added, “Thanks Nix.”

She startled and looked up. “Hmm?”

“Thanks for the tea.”

“Oh. No problem.” She gave him a weak smile and turned back to the flames. They finished their drinks and treats in silence.

-

That night Nix woke up from another nightmare about Aleks, gasping for breath in the dark of her room. She threw off the blanket and furs and quickly dressed, then made her way down the hall, down the stairs and out of the keep. She stood outside the doors for a minute, watching her breath escape in white puffs in the frigid air. Flashes of her nightmare kept repeating in her mind, and she growled angrily. She tore across the courtyard, stopping in front of a training dummy, and struck it quickly with a right hook. Like a dam had broken, she started raining down hits and kicks on the dummy, pouring all of her misery into the form of cloth and straw.

-

Eskel was still trying to get to sleep, struggling to get comfortable with his aching side, when he heard footsteps pass by his door, going towards the stairs. Guessing at who it was, he carefully rolled out of bed and got dressed before following them down the hall.

He couldn’t see or hear anyone downstairs in the kitchen or the main hall, and there was a whiff of crisp winter air, so he continued to the doors and went outside. He spotted Nix across the courtyard, beating one of the training dummies, and crossed towards her. She hiccoughed, and he could smell salt in the air. She threw one last half-hearted punch at the dummy and sank to her knees, starting to sob.

“Nix?” Eskel came up behind her. “Hey, Nix,” he said softly, “what’s going on. You’re shaking from the cold, let’s go back inside, hmm?” He gently helped her up. “I’ll stoke up your fire. Come on.” He turned her back inside, and she let herself be led, sobs quieting back down to silent crying.

They ascended the stairs together, but as he walked them towards her room, she stopped.

“I…I don’t want to go back there tonight,” she said quietly.

“Alright. You could come to mine, if you like? Just to sleep,” he rushed to add.

“Ok,” she whispered.

They walked over to his room, and Eskel tossed another log on the fire before turning to her.

“Do you mind if I take off my pants? I’ll keep my shirts and braies on.”

She nodded. They both stripped off their cloaks, pants, and boots , then slipped under the blankets. After a few minutes Nix shuffled closer, and Eskel lifted his arm. She snuggled into his chest, and he wrapped his arm around her. She shivered, and he froze, lifting his arm slightly, but she nuzzled into his chest, and he relaxed back down again.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he murmured. “Did you have another nightmare?”

She nodded, but didn’t elaborate. The wind surged past the window, whistling through a crack, and the fire sparked. Eskel’s eyelids were growing heavy when Nix’s whisper roused him.

“It’s always the same.”

“Hmm?”

“It’s always our last contract. The night… the night I lost Aleks.”

Eskel shifted slightly, turning into her and lightly rubbing his thumb along her side.

“We were taking out a sadistic lord. We’d infiltrated the party he was hosting, gotten him into a room alone and killed him without any trouble. Everything had gone according to plan, we should have been free and clear. But we were cornered by his men in a hallway on our way out. There were too many of them.” Nix drew in a shaky breath. “We took them all out, but not before… before…” Her breathing hitched, and she took a moment to try to steady it. “She died in my arms. I dream of her blood soaking her dress and mine, staining my hands, like it will never wash off…”

She turned her face into Eskel’s chest, her breathing ragged, his shirt growing wet.

Eskel thought back to earlier that afternoon, what it might have looked like to Nix when he came in bleeding, the memories it must have set off. He hugged her tighter.

“I’m so sorry.” He wished he had something more to say, but he knew the ache of loss, knew there were never really any words that would fill it. “And I’m sorry if I triggered that memory earlier.”

She made a sound, something between a sniff and a laugh, her throat still thick with tears. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. You shouldn’t be apologizing to me, you’re the one who got injured.” She shoved up onto her elbow, leaning over Eskel. “I didn’t even ask. Are you ok? Does it hurt?”

He smiled at her. “I’m fine. Hardly know it’s there.” He tugged her back down to him. “Think you can sleep now?”

She nodded, snuggling into him and wrapping her arm around him below the bandages.

“Thank you,” she whispered, barely audible. He hummed and nosed in her hair. It wasn’t long before their breathing evened out and both were asleep.

-

Thx@lohrendrell&@its-onions for your help!

-

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I lost the prompt, but @veritasrose wanted some soft hurt/comfort with the wolves. Geralt is in pain and in a funk, and his brothers take care of him. 609 words

- - -

Geralt woke up in his bed in Kaer Morhen, in pain and in a funk. His knee and elbow ached, the room around him looked grey, and the air felt oppressive. He wanted to pull the bedding over his head and stay there, but he knew that the longer he lay there, the more uncomfortable he would get.

With a grumble he threw the blankets back and pulled himself up and out of bed, slowly tugged his clothes on, and headed downstairs. 

As he walked around the table in the dining hall his knee twinged, and he bumped into a chair with a curse before dropping into the one next to it. Lambert looked up from his seat on the other side of the table and raised a brow. After silently appraising his brother for a moment, the younger witcher went to the kitchen without a word. He came back a few minutes later to find Geralt rubbing at his knee, and handed him a steaming mug.

“Drink this, pretty boy.”

“What is it?” Geralt eyed the mug skeptically.

“That tea Vesemir makes, for inflammation and shit.”

“Why?” Geralt looked at him with narrowed eyes. “What did you do?”

“Oh, shut the fuck up and drink it, would you?”

Geralt rumbled, but did as he was told.

Eskel came out of the kitchen with Vesemir, putting out plates laden with breakfast. He quietly served Geralt, then himself, and Geralt grunted his thanks. They ate a quiet meal, and after silently appraising the younger wolves while they ate, Vesemir asked Geralt and Eskel to clean and organize the library instead of continuing the repairs they’d been doing outside the day before. 

In the library a few hours later, Geralt dropped a book and cursed, then kicked the shelf in front of him before letting out another string of expletives. 

“You want to talk about it?” Eskel asked.

“What, dropping the book?” Geralt said bitingly. Eskel just gave him a look in response. “It’s nothing. I woke up sore. And… it’s… quiet here.” 

Eskel’s lips quirked. “Never bothered you before.”

Geralt scowled and didn’t answer.

“Couldn’t be missing someone, could you?”

Geralt let out a quiet growl.

Eskel chuckled. “No, of course not.”

-

Over dinner, Eskel turned to Lambert.

“Hey Lambert, what do you say to a throwback? We all sleep out in front of the fire here, like the old days?”

Lambert spluttered. “What, are we—” Eskel shot him a look to shut up, then cut his eyes to Geralt and back, and Lambert changed course. “I mean, yeah, a good ol’ fashioned puppy pile! Sounds, uh, sounds great.”

Geralt didn’t say anything, but after dinner he went over and started piling furs on the hearth. When everyone was done with dinner and clean up, Eskel, Geralt and Lambert flopped onto the furs, bellies full. They shuffled around until Geralt had his head on Eskel’s middle, and Lambert’s was on Geralt. Eskel pulled the tie from Geralt’s hair and started combing through the silver strands with his fingers. Geralt felt tension that he hadn’t realized he was holding melt away from his body. 

“You should invite him next year,” Eskel murmured. 

“What? That isn’t - I mean, who—” Geralt said, and Eskel huffed a laugh. 

“Just think about it.”

“Hmm.” 

Lambert had started softly snoring, and shifted to curl into Geralt’s side. 

Geralt laughed softly. “He always was a cuddler in his sleep.”

“But he’d bite you before he’d admit it,” Eskel said.

“Mmm.”

They lapsed back into silence, Eskel lightly scritching Geralt’s scalp.

“Thanks Eskel,” Geralt said softly.

“Any time.”

Geralt drifted off to sleep, cozy and warm and safe. 

- - -

TY@ahh-fxck&@lohrendrell, beloved beta’s.

- - -

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Next chapter of my cat witcher OC (Nix) fic. See the Masterpost for content/warnings. Masterpost here.

Cozy library times 

- - -

Eskel hurried through the courtyards, scanning the area. He had already checked the animal enclosures and stables, and they had been devoid of people. Lambert and Aiden had been sparring (or engaging in foreplay, he could never tell), in the training area. Geralt and Jaskier seemed to be enjoying each-other’s company in the barn, so Eskel hadn’t bothered checking inside, as they were clearly in there alone, judging by the sounds he was hearing. Unless she’d ventured further outside the walls, which he doubted, and sincerely hoped she wouldn’t on her own, Nix wasn’t outside. 

Eskel spun around and jogged back inside. He had already checked her room and the kitchen, which was where he had found Vesemir. The eldest witcher had told him that Nix had been charged with gathering eggs and cleaning the hen house that morning, but he hadn’t seen her since. She wouldn’t go outside the walls, he told himself. Remembering her hunting outing with Aiden, a shiver ran down Eskel’s spine. It wasn’t snowing today, but it was damn cold, and while her leg seemed to have healed, he still worried. Nix was a witcher, still strong and stubborn as any of his brothers, but she seemed somewhat fragile with her obviously weaker healing abilities. If she had gone out on her own, they would have words. He would tell her she wasn’t to go out on her own. He would… Eksel halted that train of thought, snickering to himself. If he said anything like that to her she’d likely give him a black eye and refuse to talk to him for days. If he was lucky. 

Eskel ran into the library, out of breath, slowing to a stop when he spotted a head of dark hair over the top of a chair by the fire. He stopped a moment to let his breathing calm, and Nix popped her head up over the chair to look at him.

“You racing someone, or running from someone?” She smirked. “Do you need to be hidden? Did you commit a crime?”

Eskel chuckled, walking over and dropping to the floor on the rug at her feet.

“No crime today. The others are all busy canoodling outside.”

Nix raised a dark brow. “All together?”

Eskel snorted. “Lambert and Aiden are sparring, in the loosest sense of the word, in the training area. And I’m fairly certain that what Geralt and Jaskier are doing in the hay shouldn’t be said in polite company.”

Nix laughed. “Well, I don’t know that you’ll find any polite company around here, but I also don’t need any more details.”

“Noted.”

“So what were you running around out of breath for? Did you need help with something?”

Eskel shook his head. “No. I was looking for you.”

“Oh. Well, you found me. Why the hurry, though?”

The tips of Eskel’s ears turned pink. “I was worried.”

Nix blinked at him. “Worried?”

Eskel cleared his throat and glanced at the fire. “Well, you weren’t in your room, and Vesemir said you were on chicken duty, but I figured that should have been done an hour or two ago, and then I couldn’t find you anywhere outside…”

“And you thought, what? The chickens might have revolted? That I got lost, or…”

“You don’t exactly have the best track record outside of the keep.”

“Hey!”

“Well?”

“‘m perfectly capable,” she grumbled. 

“I know”

They lapsed into silence for a few minutes. 

“What are you reading?”

“Jaskier recommended this book of poetry: I’m enjoying it.”

“Is it one of his?” 

“No, but he did lend me one of those as well,” she laughed. 

After a few minutes of companionable silence, Nix let her hand drift down near her knees, brushing the top of Eskel’s hair. It was incredibly soft. After a moment she grew bolder, trailing her fingers through it lightly. When Eskel didn’t move away or say anything she let her fingers draw through deeper, down to his scalp. He rumbled happily, and she paused. 

“Mmm, don’t stop.”

She chuckled softly. “Alright.” 

“Read to me?”

“Hmm… The Frog.

Have you ever wished when fretting

‘Bout the chilly air of spring,

When the days are longer getting

And the frogs begin to sing,

Have you ever wished that you could

Just change places with the frog—

Let him shoulder all your trouble

And then leave you on the log,

In the middle of the mill-pond,

Nothing in the world to do?

Have you wished you could change places,

You be frog and frog be you?

He don’t fret 'bout rainy weather;

If the sun shines he don’t cry;

He just takes it all together;

Happy wet and happy dry.”

“I think the frog would have a hard time fighting monsters,” Eskel said.

“Well, that would be the frog’s problem.”

“But I would feel guilty.”

“Sort of misses the point of trading places.”

“Mmm. How about you? Would you like to be a frog?”

“Holds a certain appeal, doesn’t it? No worries or responsibilities, just sitting on logs and hopping about and catching flies.”

“One might argue that frogs worry about being eaten.”

“Can’t say I’ve ever seen a frog look worried.”

“But have you ever spoken with one?”

Nix chuckled. “Can’t say that I have, no.”

“Geralt did, I think. But then, that wasn’t truly a frog, but a cursed prince.”

“Oh? And did a princess kiss him and he turned back?”

Eskel sighed. “No, it wasn’t that kind of story.”

“They usually aren’t. Not in real life. Especially not when witchers are involved.”

“It seems that way.” He adjusted his position, sitting back against her chair and resting his head against her knees. When he’d settled she went back to playing with his hair, twisting a lock around her finger. “What worries and responsibilities do you wish to be rid of?” He asked. 

“The usual ones. All of them. Sometimes I envy humans. To be a milkmaid or a seamstress, go to work without fearing for your life, do your job and go home at the end of the day. Have a home and a family to go back to. But that isn’t in the cards for us. May as well dream of being a frog.”

“Sounds nice.”

“Being a frog?” She gave the lock of hair a little tug.

Eskel chuckled. “No. I’ll pass on the flies. The human life though. Maybe a blacksmith.”

“Yeah?”

“Sure. Make swords instead of swinging them. Make pots to cook dinner at home.”

“You would cook the dinner?”

“With my partner. Or maybe we’d take turns.”

“That does sound nice.”

They were quiet for a moment.

“Maybe it’s not so out of reach,” Eskel said.

“What?”

“Who said witchers can’t have those things?”

Nix scoffed.

“I mean it. Who’s to stop us from having a home, or any of those things, really.”

“It isn’t done.”

“Doesn’t mean it couldn’t be.”

“Hmm. Perhaps.” 

“Perhaps? You have no problem telling Aiden where to go and how to get there, but you’re going to let others’ expectations dictate what you can and can’t do with your life? A home is just a house, a structure made of wood. Love makes it a home.”

She twitched and tugged his hair a little harder by accident, then quickly let it go and combed through it in apology. 

“Why are you talking about love all of a sudden,” she mumbled.

“It’s part of what we were talking about, isn’t it?” 

He turned to look at her, his eyes searching, and she shrugged. 

“I suppose,” she replied, her eyes on her hands which she’d pulled back to the book, fidgeting with the pages.

Eskel shuffled so that he was properly facing her. “Aiden said you lost someone.” Nix nodded. She was silent for so long that Eskel was about to apologize for asking, when she spoke up.

“There was no house, but she was my home.” She flicked her eyes up to Eskel’s then quickly back down. 

“You don’t have to tell me if it’s painful to talk about,” Eskel offered gently.

“Her name was Aleksandra. She was a Cat as well. We did everything together. Travelled together, took contracts together. She was beautiful, and strong. Confident to a fault. Sarcastic and funny and stupidly kind. She was everything, and then,” her voice faltered, “and then she was gone.”

Eskel reached a hand up and set it gently on her knee, and when she didn’t shy away he rubbed it gently. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured. “I would have loved to have met her. She sounds amazing.”

“She was,” Nix said with a watery smile, meeting his eyes. “She would have liked you.”

He smiled. “I’m glad. I’m sure I would have liked her too, from the sounds of it. Though…” He trailed off and Nix looked at him questioningly. 

“Though?”

“I might have been jealous if she were always by your side.”

Nix’s eyes widened then darted down to the book in her lap.

“It’s true life is no fairytale. No kiss will bring back what we’ve lost, no fairy godmother will grant our wishes, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be happy,” Eskel said.

“We can, but it doesn’t last.”

“Nothing lasts forever. But I hope you won’t let your loss stop you from being happy again. I’d wager that Aleksandra would want you to be happy.”

Nix was about to say something when Jaskier came bounding into the library with ruddy cheeks.

“Nix! Vesemir asked me to fetch you to help with dinner.” Jaskier came up alongside them. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt—”

“No, that’s alright! Thank you Jaskier, tell Vesemir I’m on my way.” 

Jaskier nodded, and left the room. Nix turned back to Eskel.

“Sorry Eskel, I should go…”

Eskel got to his feet and offered Nix a hand. “Of course, we shouldn’t keep the old man waiting.”

She set the book on the table beside the chair and accepted the hand up.

“Maybe you can read to me again tomorrow.”

Nix’s cheeks heated. “If you like. More poetry?”

“Maybe Jaskier can recommend something. Maybe something about new beginnings.”

“New beginnings…” Nix hummed. “You’re quite soppy today.”

Eskel shrugged. “Is that such a bad thing?”

Nix looked up at him, his golden eyes wide and hopeful, with a spark of mirth. He was smiling, and something about his expression reminded her of how Aleks had looked at her, a lifetime ago. 

She caught herself smiling back at him. “No. No, it isn’t.”

- - -

Thanks@contemplativepancakes for the library, @newnamesamecharlotte for the frog, and @lohrendrell for my life 

The poem is The Frog, by William Henry Dawson.

- - -

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@oxenfurt-archives

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Next chapter of my cat witcher OC (Nix) fic. See the Masterpost for content/warnings. Masterpost here.

Wake up, kitties!

- - -

Aiden burrowed his face further into Lambert’s throat, his partner’s stubble scratching lightly at his forehead. He was slowly waking up, surrounded by Lambert’s familiar, comforting scent, cozy under a heap of bedding and laying against Lambert’s warm skin.

“You awake, kitten?” Lambert murmured.

“Mmm.”

“How do you feel?”

“Cozy,” Aiden mumbled.

“Nothing hurts? Can you feel your toes?”

“What are you…” Aiden trailed off as memories started to filter back. He had been hunting with Nix, and it had started to snow. They had gotten lost, and it had been cold. So cold. They had finally stopped and huddled in the snow… He bolted up in bed, the blankets and furs pooling around his waist. “The snow! Nix!”

“Yeah,” Lambert replied, sitting up and trailing his hand up Aiden’s back softly. “The snow. I told you to turn back right away! You’re lucky your dick didn’t freeze off before we found you.”

“Where’s Nix? Is she ok?” Aiden asked insistently.

“Yeah, she’s ok. She’s in her room.” Lambert’s voice was still rough with sleep, and he rubbed wearily at his eyes.

Aiden’s posture relaxed a fraction. He took stock of his limbs and extremities.

“Ican feel my toes. Everything seems fine.” He flexed his fingers and wiggled his toes, then stretched. “It was so cold. I know we were becoming hypothermic before everything faded. How…”

“Like I said, you’re a lucky bastard. When we found you, you were both covered in snow and turning blue. Scared the fuck outta me. I haven’t felt like that since —” Lambert cleared his throat. “Well anyways, we bundled you back to the keep, had the fires roaring, stripped off all your wet and frozen clothing, and warmed you up under a pile of furs with skin to skin. Best way to do it.”

“And Nix?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah what?”

“What what? Like I said, we did all that, and it worked, we saved your asses.  And fingers and toes.”

“You did… you… she… you took her clothes off and did skin to skin?!”

“WellI didn’t, I was with you.”

“Lambert!!”

“WHAT?? You gonna pick a bone over that? Eskel took care of her. Jaskier checked in on them. I’m sorry, would you have rather we let her lose some extremities, or die? Better to let her die than upset her?”

Aiden spluttered, and Lambert continued, softening.

“I know, alright? I know it’s bad. But what should we have done? You know as well as I do it’s the safest way, and you were a block of ice, you weren’t about to be warming anyone else up, so it had to be one of us.”

Aiden nodded tersely. “I know. I know, it’s just…” He flipped off the covers and started searching for clothes to pull on. “I’ve got to check on her.”

Lambert sighed behind him before following suit and getting dressed.

“I gave them one of your shirts to put on her once she was warmed up enough to be safe.”

Aiden grunted in response. Once he was dressed, he hurried across the hall, gently pushing the door open and entering, before stopping in his tracks at the scene before him. Nix was snuggled up to Eskel, her head on his clothed chest, the covers pulled up under her chin. Eskel cracked an eye open and peered at him.

“Hey,” Eskel whispered groggily. “She’s ok.”

Aiden stared mutely for a moment. “Is she… I mean, did she…” he whispered.

“She woke up a while ago, and we talked briefly. She wanted me to stay.”

Aiden nodded absently, baffled by what he was seeing and hearing.

“I’ll make sure you know when she’s up so you can check in with her,” Eskel offered, and Aiden nodded again. Nix made a soft noise in her sleep, then nuzzled into Eskel’s chest before settling again. Aiden crept back out of the room and closed the door softly behind himself.

-

When Nix woke again, she couldn’t remember the last time she had slept so soundly, or felt so safe. She also wasn’t sure of the last time she had been so close with someone, woken wrapped around another warm body. A steady, slow heartbeat thumped under her ear through the soft worn linen shirt Eskel wore, and his arm was secure around her waist. He shifted under her as she stirred.

“You awake?” he whispered.

“Mmm.”

His fingers stroked lightly up and down her back. “We should go downstairs when you’re ready. You must be hungry, and I think Aiden is anxious to see you.”

She pushed up on an elbow, rubbing at her eyes. “Right. Ok.”

As she sat up properly, Eskel slid out of the bed and pulled on the pants Jaskier had left him.

“I’ll let you get dressed and see you downstairs?” he asked.

She nodded in reply. As he got to the door, she called out.

“Eskel?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

He smiled softly. “I’m glad you’re ok. Thank you for trusting me. I’m sorry again for—”

“Don’t, you probably saved my life. I’m grateful; for that, and for… that you stayed.”

“I was happy to,” he said with a smile, before turning back and walking out, closing the door quietly.

Nix stayed sitting in bed, looking at the closed door. Her emotions were all over the place. Eskel made her feel warm, and cared for, and safe.

Part of her craved that: to let down the guard she’d been fighting so hard to maintain. To let someone else take care of her. Laying in his broad arms, she felt settled and safe in a way she hadn’t since before she lost Aleks. A feeling she had often worried, in her darker moments, that she wouldn’t experience again.

Part of her wanted to run from that. It meant being vulnerable again. It meant letting something into her heart, knowing it could be ripped back out. Losing Aleks had nearly destroyed her. She couldn’t even remember the days after it happened: where she had gone, what she had done, how she had survived. After that she had closed off her emotions, doing what she had to to survive, moving through life without really experiencing it. She didn’t think she could survive another loss like that.

She hadn’t been looking for a partner of any sort. Hadn’t felt ready for someone else, hadn’t been sure she ever would be. She didn’t want to feel like she was replacing Aleks, and she hadn’t felt that anyone ever could. Her guilt, grief and fear left her feeling that it was easier, safer, not to try.

And besides, her and Eskel’s lifestyles were different. Wolves hunted monsters, they didn’t take contracts on people, whereas that was all she did, working as a spy and assassin. She was surprised she had been let into Kaer Morhen at all, really, but the type of contracts she took wasn’t a topic that had ever come up. She wondered what would happen if it did. She couldn’t imagine she’d make it very far from the keep in this weather. A shiver ran down her spine.

Worrying over it all now wasn’t doing her any good. What had been a dull ache in the back of her consciousness was becoming a throbbing headache. She pushed the thoughts aside and went about getting dressed. While the thought of burrowing under the covers and staying there for the rest of the winter currently held great appeal, her headache wouldn’t go away on its own, her stomach was growling, and she knew Aiden wouldn’t let her hide for long once he knew she was up. She wrapped a fur around her shoulders and headed downstairs. Ale. That might help things. Or White Gull. Even better.

- - -

Thank you @trickstermoose67&@lohrendrell for your beta’ing help! 

- - -

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@oxenfurt-archives​​

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Take My Hand, Hold Me Close (ch. 5)

Eskel and his elven lover Aniela have been together for some years when an accident occurs…

See the Masterpost for more info, chapter links & content/warnings. Masterpost here.

Ch. 4: The promised happy ending <3

-

When they arrived in Kaer Morhen they took Vesemir by surprise, being early, and arriving by portal. After they gave him a quick explanation, Yennefer retired to the room she used when she visited to rest, and Eskel went to his, followed closely by Vesemir. Vesemir filled the fireplace and started a fire, then turned to Eskel. 

“I’ll bring up a jug of water. Let me know if you need anything else.”

Eskel gave his thanks and the older witcher left. He took his and Aniela’s outer layers off, then tucked them into bed, holding Aniela close to his body. Her head was tucked under his chin, and he combed his hand slowly through her hair. He felt like his heart was held in a vice. He could have lost her. A voice in his head whispered that he still could, and he pushed it forcefully away. He couldn’t bear the thought.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered into her hair. “Please, come back to me.” He brushed a kiss to her forehead, then leaned his head against hers. He drifted in and out of consciousness, unable to settle enough to sleep properly. Every time he woke, he held his breath until he heard her breathing, her heartbeat, before allowing himself to relax again.

-

Aniela woke on a familiar chest, surrounded by a familiar scent. Fingers combing through her hair. She must be dreaming, she thought. Or had she died in that cell? Perhaps this was what the afterlife was like, if you deserved it. She didn’t want to open her eyes, didn’t want to break whatever dream or spell this was.

“Ani?” A whisper, a voice she would know anywhere. She blinked her eyes slowly open. She looked up into a face more familiar than her own. Golden eyes, full lips, ragged scar.

“Eskel.”

“How do you feel?”

“I…you…do you remember me?”

A pained look crossed his face. “Ani, I’m so sorry.” 

“Am I dreaming?” she whispered, a tear tracking down her cheek.

Eskel reached down and brushed it away gently with his thumb, caressing her cheek, and she leaned into the touch, closing her eyes again.

“No,” he replied quietly, voice choked with emotion. “We’re in our room in Kaer Morhen.”

She blinked up at him. “How?”

“Yen portalled us here.”

“But, how… I was… you…”

Eskel took in a shaky breath. “Geralt and Jaskier found you in a jail cell. I think they contacted Yennefer for help, and she brought you all to me, then brought us here. She helped me regain my memories. I think I must have hit my head during my hunt. Ani, I’m so sorry. I scared and upset you, and then you ran, and… you must have been terrified. I don’t know how to make it up to you, but I swear I’ll try.”

Aniela shook her head, trying to hold back more tears. “It isn’t your fault. I panicked, I was stupid. By the time I could think more sensibly, it was too late. I was too far away, and had no way to find you.” She hiccoughed a sob. “I missed you so much.”

“I had the horrible feeling that I was missing something, but I couldn’t remember. I’m so sorry, Ani. I promised to take care of you. The thought that I could have lost you…I can’t bear it. I hope it never does, but if something were to happen again–” Ani stiffened in his arms, and he rubbed a hand up and down her back soothingly, “Yen said she would get a xenovox for you, so that you’d be able to contact her.”

“Really?”

“Really. I know you have a hard time believing it, but everyone cares about you very much. You’re family, and they were all worried. I think Yennefer was ready to run me through with Geralt’s sword for being away from you. She was afraid for you. If anything ever happens, please don’t run again.” He gave her a squeeze. “Get help from our family. Please, promiseme?”

“I promise,” she whispered. She looked up into his eyes and found everything she had been missing; love, care, devotion, warmth. She shuffled further up to bury her face in his neck, wrapping her arms around him. He tightened his own around her, face in her hair.

“I love you,” he breathed. “I love you so much, more than anything. That was terrifying, I never want to go through that again.”

“I’m sorry.”

He shook his head in silence. 

After a few minutes, she moved her face back an inch. “I suppose I’ll owe Lambert an apology as well, and thanks to the others.”

Eskel huffed a laugh. “What did you do to Lambert? I haven’t seen him in months.”

“I ran into him, while I was… on my own. In a market. He was glad to see me, and kind, but he asked after you, and I panicked. I shook him off and ran. I think I confused and worried him. I feel horrible.”

“Hmm. I’m sure he’ll forgive you. He’ll be glad to see you’re alright.”

She tucked her face back into him. “Are you sure that…”

“Hmm?”

“Are you sure I’m not… a burden to you?”

“Never!” He nudged her face back so he could meet her eyes. “Ani. Never. You bring warmth and light and happiness to my life. I can’t imagine being without you. Even without my memories, those days without you, they were awful. I hope I’ll never have to know days like that again. Iloveyou.”

“I love you too.” The tears she’d been fighting spilled down her cheeks, and he thumbed the first few away, then clasped her face in his hands and kissed the rest of them away. Her tears slowed, then stopped, and she snuggled back in his arms.

“How did Geralt and Jaskier find me? How did they get me out?”

“I really don’t know any of the story, we didn’t have time. I don’t even know what you were doing in jail to begin with.”

“I lost my glamour bracelet. A baron thought I made a good curiosity to show off.”

Eskel growled. “He’ll be lucky if I never meet him. We’ll get you a new bracelet. If you want. Or we can stay up here.”

She laughed. “And do what?”

“Raise the goats and chickens.”

“We can’t!”

“We could, if we wanted to. I just want you to be safe, and happy.”

“I’m happy as long as I’m with you. And you keep me safe. I think you would go crazy if we stayed here all year long, and I’m not sure we can live sustainably off of just the goats and chickens.”

“Hmm. You might be right. Well, we have all winter to think about it and make plans. And I’m not letting you out of my sight all season.”

“Alright. That sounds nice… I love you, so much. It’s good to be home.”

He grinned. “That it is.”

-

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Take My Hand, Hold Me Close (ch. 4)

Eskel and his elven lover Aniela have been together for some years when an accident occurs…

See the Masterpost for more info, chapter links & content/warnings. Masterpost here.

Ch. 4: A reunion, and a protective Yennefer 

-

That night, the pair snuck onto the baron’s property, Jaskier dressed in one of Geralt’s black shirts and a pair of dark pants for better camouflage. Jaskier followed obediently behind Geralt, and they managed to sneak across the grounds as the guards moved about, then into the manor. Geralt knocked the dungeon guard unconscious, then they quickly opened the cell, Jaskier sneaking inside while Geralt kept watch. 

“Psst, hello, you there, elf! We’re here to save you!” Jaskier whispered loudly as he crept closer. “Hello?” He came up beside the huddled figure and knelt down to shake their shoulder gently. “Can you hear me, are you alright?” He started to worry that the baron might have been wrong about the elf still being alive. He tugged at their shoulder to pull them away from the wall so that he could see their face. “Ani!” he cried out. 

“Jaskier!” Geralt whispered harshly.

“Geralt, it is, it’s Ani!” Jaskier whisper-shouted back, trying to keep his voice under control. 

Geralt cursed under his breath. “How…”

“Ani! Aniela!” Jaskier whispered desperately. “Geralt, she’s not waking up!”

Geralt took another moment to listen for anyone coming, then quickly crossed over to Jaskier and Aniela. Her heartbeat was slow and weak, and she looked pale and gaunt.

“Fuck,” Geralt cursed under his breath.

“I’ll carry her so you have your arms free if anyone comes after us,” Jaskier offered. He carefully scooped her up into his arms, tucking her against his chest. “Shit, Geralt, she doesn’t weigh anything. And she’s so pale and cold. And what happened to her glamour?”

Geralt growled. “Where the fuck is my brother?”

“Do you think she’s hurt?”

“I don’t smell blood. We’ll check her over more carefully once we’re out of here.”

“Alright.”

Geralt was on high alert as he led them out of the dungeon and across the baron’s estate, having not only his human lover to protect, but his brother’s unconscious one as well. They made it outside of the walls without incident and he relaxed slightly as they hurried back towards the town, but now that he wasn’t preoccupied with watching for guards, he was free to worry about Eskel and Aniela. It made no sense. They hadn’t seen his brother, nor heard anyone in town mention another witcher, and yet here was Aniela. They always travelled together. Eskel was never apart from her for more than a couple of days for a hunt, and he was anxious until they were reunited. They were never apart for longer than three days, unwilling to test the limits of Yennefer’s spell. Aniela being unwell and locked in a cell, having seen neither hide nor hind of Eskel, made worry grow like a stone in his stomach. 

“Do you think—” Jaskier started.

“I don’t know,” Geralt cut him off with a growl. “Here, I’ll take her.”

“I’m worried too,” Jaskier said softly as he passed her over. “Should we take her to a healer first? Then if… if there’s nothing they can do, we’ll use the xenovox to contact Yennefer. Ask her to help us find Eskel.”

Geralt grunted his agreement, his mind whirling too much to be able to formulate a proper answer. Where was Eskel? What had happened? What happened to Aniela’s glamour?

“Her glamour! Her ears. We can’t bring her to a healer,” Geralt bit out. 

“Fuck, right. Of course. Straight to Yenna, then?”

Geralt nodded. “We’ll gather our things from the inn, then call her.”

“Here, wait.” Jaskier set a hand on Geralt’s shoulder, and he stopped walking. Jaskier fussed with Aniela’s hair, making sure her ears were hidden from view. “That should do.” They hurried the rest of the way in silence, both wrapped up in their worries. 

Up in their room, Geralt set Aniela gently down on the bed, before he checked her over briefly for injuries, not finding anything noticeable of concern. As Jaskier quickly packed their belongings, Geralt pulled out the xenovox.

“Yen, I need your help.”

A sigh. “What is it this time?”

“We’ve got Aniela, she isn’t well, something’s wrong.”

Yennefer’s tone instantly changed, full of worry and urgency. “I’m portalling to you.”

A moment later there was a zap, and Yennefer stepped into their room. She hurried over to the bed, kneeling down and assessing Aniela.

“Where is he?!” she demanded.

“Eskel?” Geralt asked. “We don’t know. She was in a baron’s dungeon. We haven’t seen him. Something must have happened to him, he would never leave her…” he trailed off, voice tight with worry. 

“I am going to happen to Eskel! What’s wrong with her is they’ve been apart too long. She’s wasting away, Geralt, and she’s just about out of time.”

Geralt’s face turned even paler than usual. “Fuck,” he breathed out.

“You have no idea where he is or what happened?” Yennefer demanded. Geralt shook his head.

“I’ll use a locating spell, we’ll portal to wherever he is.”

Geralt nodded. Jaskier walked over and took his hand, giving it a squeeze. Once Yennefer was ready, Geralt gathered Aniela in his arms, and Jaskier shouldered their belongings. They stepped through a portal into another dark room. A figure bolted up in the bed.

“Who’s there?” a sleep-rough voice demanded. 

“It’s us, Eskel,” Geralt said, relief at hearing his brother’s voice battling his portal-sickness.

“The fuck?” Eskel grumbled, swinging his legs out of bed and reaching to light the candle at the bedside with igni. “What are you all doing here?” He squinted at the assembled group, then noticed the person in Geralt’s arms. “What are you doing with that woman??”

“Why wasn’t she with you?!” Geralt retorted. 

“That woman was in my room when I got back from my hunt a few days ago… Do you know her?”

Geralt stared blankly at his brother. 

“Do I know her?!”

“She’s your partner,” Jaskier said. “Do you not know her…? You never go anywhere without each other. Well, you can’t go anywhere without each other, really. Her life is tied to yours.” 

Eskel stared at them in growing confusion and horror.

“Your lives are tied together by a spell. A spell you cried and begged me to do. One I cautioned you to be very sure you wanted,” Yennefer said, a dangerous edge to her voice. “How could you let her be away from you for so long and get to this state? How are you sleeping while–” 

Eskel cut her off. “I-I don’t understand. I don’t remember. I don’t remember any of it,” he stammered.

“What do you mean, you don’t remember?” Yennefer demanded. “When I did the spell, I made the terms of it very clear. You had to be committed, and you swore you were. You begged me to save her life. I was clear that you can’t be away from each other for more than three or four days. So why did your brother and his bard find her wasting away in a jail cell?!” Yennefer’s voice rose in pitch and fury. 

Eskel dropped back onto the bed. “I don’t–I don’t remember. By the gods, it seems I should, may they punish me, but I don’t remember.”

Yennefer glared at him. “What is wrong with you?!”

He looked up at her, his eyes haunted. “I don’t know. I woke up in a forest after a hunt, with no memory of how I got there. No memory of the contract. I came back to the village to find that woman in my room, a different horse in the stables…I think…I’m missing time. Missing memories of the past.”

Yennefer crossed the small room to him, grabbing him by the hand and pulling him up, jerking her head for Geralt to come over. He did, and she pressed Eskel’s hand to Aniela’s cheek, and something sparked. Suddenly images flooded through his mind. Aniela laughing; Aniela dancing with the crowd during a festival, face lit up; waking with her sleeping in his arms in his room in Kaer Morhen. 

He gasped. Ani. He stumbled a step back and looked down at her. She looked like she had a foot through death’s door. Frail and pallid, dark hollows under her eyes.

“Fuck. Ani.”

“Welcome back,” Yennefer bit out. “You should take her. She needs to be as close to you as possible.”

“Will she…is she… Yennefer…” Eskel faltered for words as he took Aniela from Geralt’s arms.

“She was about out of time, this was dangerously close.” Yennefer’s words were clipped. “But I think if you keep her close to you for a day or two, she’ll recover.”

Eskel took in a shuddering breath, clutching Aniela close to him, and buried his nose in her hair, his eyes scrunched closed. “I–Thank you.”

Yennefer took in a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “I take it you’re on your way up to Kaer Morhen?” Eskel nodded. “I’ll portal you there.”

“Thank you. But, my horse…”

“We’ll get Acorn,” Geralt offered. “Where are we, exactly?”

“Aldersberg,” Eskel said.

“We can ride her back to our inn, it’ll only add a day or two onto our journey up to Kaer Morhen.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course. You just worry about Ani.” Geralt clapped a hand on Eskel’s shoulder before turning to Yennefer.

“Thank you, Yen.”

“I didn’t do it for you,” she replied, but she hugged him anyway.

“I know,” he murmured.

Jaskier quickly gathered Eskel’s things, then handed the bundle to Yennefer, who looked rather put out, but accepted them. He hugged her and she pulled a face, but didn’t attempt to push him off.

“Thank you, Yenna.”

“Get off,” she said, without any bite. “And don’t call me that.”

Jaskier grinned. “You like it.”

Yennefer made a noise of disgust. Jaskier wrapped his arms carefully around Eskel and Aniela next.

“Take care of yourselves,” he said softly. “We’ll see you soon.”

“Thanks Jask.”

“See you in Kaer Morhen.” Yennefer opened a portal and stepped through, Eskel following closely behind.

-

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Take My Hand, Hold Me Close (ch. 3)

Eskel and his elven lover Aniela have been together for some years when an accident occurs…

See the Masterpost for more info, chapter links & content/warnings. Masterpost here.

Ch. 3: Geralt & Jaskier show up and take over the chapter. Lots of banter. 

-

Two days later, Geralt and Jaskier paused for lunch at a tavern in a small village, quickly tearing into their bread and stew when it arrived. 

“Mmf, Geralt, I don’t know if it’s because it’s genuinely good, or if it’s because we’ve been eating travel rations for days, but this is excellent.”

“Mm. The latter,” Geralt suggested, looking at the bard with amusement. 

“Well, even so.” Jaskier chewed happily and glanced around the tavern. It was just past lunchtime, so it wasn’t overly busy, but a few tables were occupied by villagers. He kept his ears perked while he ate, always listening for things that would make good writing material. It was mostly gossip and idle chit chat: who was sleeping with whom, whose chickens had been attacked by a wild animal, opinions on the weather. Then the conversation at a table near their own caught his interest. 

“But not a real elf, surely!”

“Aye! Pointed ears and everythin!”

“Haveyou seen it?”

“Well, no, but Mable’s cousin works in the kitchens, and she swears—”

“Mable’s cousin’s mouth gets away from her. What would he do with an elf, anyways?”

“Dunno. She says he’s planning a party, gonna show it off then.”

“Show off what, exactly? What do elves do? It gonna make a plant grow, or, turn green, or something?”

“What are you on about?”

“I dunno! What do elves do?! Surely it must do something, else what’s the point?”

“Well, it’s a curiosity, innit? Don’t see elves these days, do ye?”

“Suppose not. Dunno why it’s so exciting, though.”

Jaskier shot a look at Geralt, who was clearly listening as well, his brow furrowed. 

“Terribly sorry to interrupt, dears, but did I hear you mention an elf?” The villagers eyed him sceptically, and Jaskier waved the barmaid over to order another round of ale for both tables. They relaxed somewhat at that. “It’s just, I’ve never seen an elf!” he lied smoothly. “Sounds exciting! Where’s this party taking place? Will it be soon?”

“At the baron’s, of course. I think he plans to hold the party this week.” They looked Jaskier and Geralt over. “Why, you planning on being in town long?”

“Oh, who’s to say? Always ready to stay longer in order to have some fun!”

They grunted in response. 

Jaskier downed his beer quickly and Geralt followed suit, giving Jaskier a quizzical look. 

“Well, lovely chatting to you! Enjoy your ale!” Jaskier gave the strangers a wide smile, then gathered his things and set off for their room, with Geralt close behind. 

Once their door closed behind them, Jaskier spun around to face the witcher. 

“We have to go find out about this!”

“The baron?”

“The elf!”

“Hmm.”

“If what they said is true, then this baron is likely holding some innocent person prisoner!”

“Who’s to say they’re innocent?”

“Geralt!”

“I agree, it sounds unsavoury, but we’re here for a night’s rest, and to hopefully make some coin, before we keep going towards Kaer Morhen. It isn’t our business, Jaskier.”

“Well I’m making it our business!”

“Jaskier.”

“What if it were Ani?”

Geralt snorted. “It isn’t Ani. As if Eskel would let such a thing happen.”

“How will you face her this winter after letting one of her people be used and mistreated?” Jaskier tipped his chin up petulantly.

“Who’s going to tell her?” Geralt cocked an eyebrow at the bard. 

“Geralt!”

The witcher sighed. “Do you have a plan, or do you think we’re just going to storm into this baron’s doubtlessly well-protected manor and stage a dramatic rescue?”

Jaskier scoffed. “Please, Geralt, I’m a noble. I’ll make a visit as the Viscount de Lettenhove and declare my interest in his rarity.”

“And then?”

“And then… and then, if I confirm he does indeed have a captured elf, we’ll sneak back in at night and break them out!”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that!”

“We won’t be doing anything of the sort at night.”

“Geralt!”

“It’s a stupid and dangerous idea, and you will be staying here, if we do anything at all.”

“Oh, and let you do the stupid and dangerous thing on your own?” Geralt glared at him. “No thank you, I think I will be coming too. I can provide a distraction if need be.”

“A liability, you mean.”

“You’re always underestimating me, Geralt, it’s quite rude.”

“Hmm.”

-

Eskel woke in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. He’d been having a nightmare, someone in the dark, in the cold, crying out his name. He couldn’t see them, didn’t know who they were, but it filled him with dread. He gave up on sleep and set to sharpening his swords until daylight.

-

Later that day, dressed in his best finery, Jaskier approached the baron’s home. Geralt lurked outside the walls, hoping he’d be able to hear if things went south. 

Jaskier charmed his way in the doors, complimenting the village as well as the baron’s home and furnishings. After the baron had given him a tour of his home and property, Jaskier turned to him.

“What a lovely estate, your lordship. Truly impressive. There’s just one thing I’m wildly curious about,” Jaskier said, a twinkle in his eye. 

The baron puffed his chest out. “Oh, and what’s that?”

Jaskier leaned in conspiratorially. “I heard you have something quite rare indeed, hidden away here.”

“Oh, did you, now? Word travels fast. You’ll have to attend my party, then. You are hereby formally invited, in three days time—” 

“Oh,” Jaskier pouted at the baron, “but I’m afraid I won’t be in town in three days time.”

“Leaving so soon?”

“Alas, I must keep on my way. I’m expected elsewhere, you see. Couldn’t I just have a wee peek? I’d hate to miss such an opportunity.” Jaskier batted his lashes. 

“Well, I supposed it wouldn’t do any harm.”

Jaskier clapped his hands in delight and followed behind the baron as he made off across the manor. 

They made their way down stone steps, the air growing chillier and damp as they went. When they reached the bottom, two cells came into view, one empty, one occupied by a figure slumped into the corner on the floor. Jaskier stifled a gasp at the colour of their hair. It looked just like Aniela’s, but there was no way… Jaskier turned the gasp into a cough, covering his mouth with a handkerchief and looking apologetically at the baron. 

“Sensitive nose,” he said by way of excuse. He moved closer to the bars, trying to get a better look at the figure. “And it’s really…” he let himself trail off.

“An elf, yes,” the baron assured him.

“Huh!” Jaskier squinted through the dim light of the lantern on the wall. “And they’re… still alive?”

“Of course! Last I checked, anyways. Rather pathetic creature. I hope it at least lasts until the party.”

“Right! Of course. Rather a waste if it didn’t!” 

The person was leaning against the wall and facing away from them, and hadn’t so much as twitched since they had entered. He could see one pointed ear poking out of their hair, but there was no way for Jaskier to get a look at their face. He clenched his teeth in frustration.

“Well, thank you ever so much for showing me! I think I’ve had enough of the chill air, however, so if we can go back up…”

Jaskier followed the baron out of the tiny dungeon, then drank tea with him in the drawing room until he was able to politely excuse himself. 

When he made his way around the corner of the outside wall, he came upon Geralt who was kneeling in a light meditation. Jaskier squeezed his shoulder, rousing him, and hissed into his ear. 

“I feel dirty, Geralt. The kind you can’t wash away with soap. Let’s get out of here and I’ll tell you everything I saw.”

Geralt grunted in agreement and they hurried away from the estate. 

Back in their room at the inn, Jaskier described the buildings, guards and dungeon as best he could while Geralt listened intently. He drew a map in his notebook as he talked. 

“I couldn’t get a good look at them, they were slumped into the corner, and I know it couldn’t be Ani, but they had the same hair, Geralt, like golden honey. It gave me an awful feeling in the pit of my stomach. And they don’t seem well at all. We must get them out of there!”

Geralt sighed. “Alright. I’ll watch the guard’s movements until I can catch a break in their rotation, then head through the kitchens here, and go down to the dungeon when the coast is clear.” He pointed out his path on the map as he planned and explained. “You said there’s only one guard for the dungeons?”

“Yes, this isn’t a proper jail, just one kidnapped person in a holding cell. He’s likely set the guard just so that no-one tampers with his curiosity before he can show it off.” Jaskier’s face wrinkled in disgust. 

“Alright. I’ll set off just before midnight.”

“We’ll set off just before midnight.”

“No.”

“Yes! I thought I broke you of your ‘I need no-one’ nonsense ages ago, Geralt! What if you need a distraction? What if something goes wrong?”

“What if you get us caught? What if you get hurt?”

“I’ll have you know that I can be very sneaky, Geralt. Do you know how many bedrooms—”

“You were murderously chased out of?”

“Those were the ones where I was caught! Do you know how many—”

“Alright,” Geralt cut him off, closing his eyes, brow furrowed as if in pain. “If you get us caught or get hurt, I will make you sorry myself.”

“Ooo, is that a promise?” Jaskier cooed, gaining a glare in response. 

-

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Take My Hand, Hold Me Close (ch. 2)

Eskel and his elven lover Aniela have been together for some years when an accident occurs…

See the Masterpost for more info, ch. 1 link & content/warnings. Masterpost here. 

Ch. 2: Aniela has some dark thoughts, runs into a familiar face, and then an unfamiliar one…

-

Aniela awoke the next morning still exhausted. She lay in the bed, staring at the bare wooden ceiling, contemplating what to do. Part of her mind was screaming at herself that this was madness, to turn and run back to Eskel. But then what? If he still didn’t know her, what was she supposed to do? She’d never felt she deserved him. The last thing she was about to do was try to convince him to care for her, that she belonged at his side. She’d been overwhelmingly happy that he had felt that way, but part of her had always wondered when it would end, as surely it couldn’t last forever. It was too good to be true. And here she was, because it had been. So no, she couldn’t go back. She didn’t wish to die, but sometimes your fate was out of your hands. People died every day, she reasoned. Her day was coming. She could accept that. She remembered a beautiful forest they had stopped in in Lyria. Perhaps she could head towards it. It would be a peaceful place to rest until… well. 

Her coin was low, and the thought of having to approach strangers to beg odd jobs in order to make more made her skin crawl. Besides, she would only have use for coin for a couple more days, she thought darkly. She could make what she had left stretch until then. She resolved herself to sleeping where she could, barns or meadows. The following night she crept into a barn after nightfall, making a bed in the hay. She was sore, and drained, but sleep wouldn’t come. She missed Eskel fiercely: it ached, like a hole in her heart, a pit in her stomach. But she had no way of finding him again, no idea how she would explain herself to him at this point if he still didn’t remember her, and no energy to figure it out. She was weak, and shaking, alone and painfully lonely. She wished for it to end. Not long now, she figured. She sobbed until it petered out to silent tears, eventually crying herself to sleep.

She travelled south for two more days, until she ran into Lambert when she was bartering for food in a market.

“Ani!” Lambert called happily, smiling at her through the crowd. She froze. She liked Eskel’s brother well enough. They had spent a few winters together at Kaer Morhen, and though he was loud and brash and foul-mouthed, he was kind and caring underneath it all, and quite funny, she’d found. But he would ask after Eskel, and she wouldn’t know what to say. She started to panic, her body gearing into fight or flight mode. 

Lambert made his way quickly through the throng of people, coming up alongside his brother’s partner.

“Ani! A sight for sore eyes. What are you doing at this stall, looks like shit, you must feed my brother better than this? You certainly deserve better. Come on, let’s find something else.” He put his hand on her elbow to steer her, and she pulled away. He furrowed his brow at her. “Where is the fucker, anyways? He on a hunt?”

“I - I don’t know,” she stuttered out. “I’m sorry,” she murmured quietly, then darted away into the crowd. 

“What? Hey, Ani!” He started after her. “Aniela!” As he was getting closer to catching up, a man ran straight into him and dropped his basket of produce, potatoes and onions rolling this way and that. Lambert tried to dash around him, but the man pulled at his clothing. 

“Hey! Help me gather these up, would you?”

“Not my problem!” Lambert snarled. “I’m busy!” He pushed his way around the man, eyes scanning the crowd for Aniela’s bright hair. “Fuck! Where did she get to?” 

He continued through the crowd, trying to catch sight or scent of her, but she seemed to have disappeared. Lambert cursed again under his breath. What the fuck was that about? Aniela had looked haunted, with dark crescents under her eyes. It reminded him of when he had first met her, when she had first started travelling with Eskel. She had been so tentative, curling in on herself like she was trying to disappear from view, her eyes looking sad and full of shadows, hardly saying a word to anyone. Over the years she’d spent at his brother’s side, Lambert had watched her slowly bloom. She’d stood up straighter, become livelier. The first time he’d heard her laugh he’d almost called a celebration in the keep, but knew the attention would have the opposite effect desired. 

Her company seemed to have a similar effect on Eskel. He seemed to brighten and be more at ease, especially when the wolves ran into each-other out on the path. The pair were good for each-other. Aniela had become a part of their patchwork family, and as such was important to Lambert and the others. They enjoyed her company, and their wardrobes were better off for her care. 

What had she meant, she didn’t know where Eskel was? Was she unsure about the hunt he was on? Lambert had a bad feeling in his gut, but he didn’t run into Aniela again, or see Eskel, before it was time to leave the town. He asked around about a broad, scarred witcher, but no-one seemed to have seen him, nor his bright-haired companion. Lambert didn’t know what else to do but to move on, hoping he would see them both soon at Kaer Morhen, if not on the way there. 

-

Eskel continued on the path, making his way towards Kaer Morhen. His memory hadn’t returned to him. What he originally thought to be a lost day or two was starting to seem to be much more. Things seemed…different. Off. Styles of clothing didn’t seem quite the same as what he remembered. People seemed friendlier towards him than he remembered. How much had he forgotten? What was he missing?

Two nights after the first one he could remember, he had vivid dreams. He dreamt of gentle fingertips tracing his eyebrows, lashes, nose, scars, lips. Of gentle whispers in his ear. He woke feeling confused and muddled, with the unshakeable feeling that he’d lost something.

-

Five days after she left Eskel, Aniela was crossing through another town. She was worn out and quite weak, having been away from Eskel for so long. She guessed she had only two or three days left, if that, before Yennefer’s magical tether snapped, and her life was extinguished. 

She’d spent some of her remaining meager coin on bread and was leaving the market when she stumbled on the uneven ground, losing her balance and falling to her hands and knees. A stranger reached out to try to help, grabbing her wrist, as well as her glamour bracelet by accident. When she tried to jerk away, her bracelet broke off in his hand, and she gasped. The stranger looked at the bracelet in his hand, then back to Aniela, his eyes widening when he saw her ears. 

“An elf?!” he exclaimed. 

She started to panic, trying to scramble up to her feet to run. The stranger grabbed her wrist again.

“Where you off to in such a rush? The baron would love to meet you!” His eyes glinted wickedly. 

“Please, just let me go,” she begged.

He ignored her and pulled her to her feet. 

“Please.” It came out a whisper. She pulled back against his grip, but she had no strength left to resist. He dragged her after him as he marched away from the market and towards the baron’s estate. 

-

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Take My Hand, Hold Me Close (ch. 1)

Eskel and his elven lover Aniela have been together for some years when an accident occurs…

In which Eskel forgets something important, and PTSD and self-confidence issues are a bitch.

Angst with a happy ending. Geraskier took over for a few pages, I have no control over them.. 

See the Masterpost for content/warnings. Masterpost here. This is the longest chapter, as it was decided what was previously two chapters needed to be combined so things made sense to those who don’t live in my head, lol.

-

Aniela leaned up on her toes, hands resting on Eskel’s gambeson, to press a soft kiss to his lips. His hands rested on her waist, giving a light squeeze. She pulled back slightly to look up into his eyes, still leaning into him.

“Come back to me in one piece?” she asked softly.

“I’ll do my best,” he answered with a smile.

“You’d better.” She gave an answering smile.

“Stay safe while I’m gone.”

“I think I’ll stay in the room. There’s mending to be done, a bath to be taken, and I’m tired from the path.”

“Good. Don’t wait up for me, hmm?”

“I can’t promise that. You know I worry until you’re back.”

“I’ve fought many cockatrices before.”

“I know. Even so.”

“I’ll try to be quick, then.”

“Please do.”

He gave her a kiss on the forehead then turned and left their room at the inn, closing the door softly behind him.

The room was comfortable enough, and quite cozy with the small fire going. This was far from the first hunt Eskel had gone on, leaving her behind to wait: there had been too many to count at this point. And yet she couldn’t shake a sense of unease. Silly, she told herself. She was comfortable and safe here, and Eskel had been confident that the contract would be an easy one. Everything would be fine. He would likely be back before she even got into bed.

-

Eskel woke, confused and aching. He blinked his heavy lids open slowly, unsure of where he was. Dawn light was stabbing into his eyes, and he lifted a hand to shield them, wincing. Birds were calling and he was looking up at trees. He was camped out, then. Except when he slowly pushed his aching body up from the ground, his head pounding like he’d had too good a time with white gull the night before, he looked around to find no evidence of camp. No bedroll, no fire, no Scorpion.

He frowned. Looking down at himself, he saw that he was wearing all of his armour. His steel sword was still strapped to his back, and his silver sword, covered in dried black blood, was on the ground nearby. He must have fought something. A hit to the head, then. Hopefully he had taken down whatever it was he was fighting before passing out. He must have, he reasoned, as otherwise he wouldn’t have woken up at all. He grunted, pushing himself to stand, slowed by his aching body and throbbing head.

He started walking, hoping he was headed in the direction of the village that he had presumably taken a contract from. He did eventually find his way to the edge of the village. As he entered, a few people seemed to recognize him, nodding as he passed. One villager called out to him from a field.

“Oi, witcher!”

Eskel looked over.

“Took out the beast in the woods, then, did ya?”

Eskel nodded hesitantly. He didn’t remember, but he must have. He glanced around, gauging the size of the village from what he could see.

“Can you point me towards the inn?” he asked. It was likely to only have the one, being small, and he hoped he might have procured a room in it. Hopefully his memory would come back soon, but he wasn’t overly concerned. In a village this size it shouldn’t be hard to locate Scorpion and whomever had put out the contract. The farmer gave Eskel quick instructions and he headed on down the road.

When he got to the inn he was greeted warmly inside by the woman behind the bar.

“Took longer than ye thought, eh, witcher?”

“Hmm,” he responded. “I have a room?”

The barkeep nodded, a quizzical look on her face. “Aye, last door on the right.”

“Thank you,” Eskel replied, and headed towards the stairs at the back. He trudged up the stairs, down the hallway and opened the door that was indicated. As he walked through the door he saw a woman sitting on the edge of the bed, fretting at a piece of clothing. Honey-ginger hair fell in soft waves around her face and shoulders, and a pointed ear poked through it on the side facing him. What on the continent was an elf doing in his room?

When she saw him she jumped up, coming towards him. “Eskel! I’ve been so worried, are you alright?”

His hand had immediately gone to the steel sword on his back upon finding a stranger in his room.

“Who are you?” he asked gruffly. “What are you doing in my room?”

She stumbled a step back, wide eyes focused on his arm reaching for his sword. He heard her heart rate pick up. “Wh-what do you mean?”

He glanced around the room in confusion, wondering if there had been a mistake, but those were his saddlebags by the table, with the leather tooling Geralt had done a few winters ago decorating the fronts.

“What do you want?” he demanded. His head was throbbing and he just wanted to lie down somewhere relatively soft and quiet to wait for it to pass.

“Eskel,” the woman started, voice wobbling slightly, “do you not know me?”

“No,” he answered apprehensively, “should I?”

She gulped, pale-aqua eyes shining. “It’s… uhm… the inn was short of rooms, and so we were rooming together.”

He frowned at that. It sounded awfully improbable. And what woman would agree to room with a stranger, and a burly scarred witcher, at that?

“I’m sure you want to rest, so I’ll… I’ll get out of your hair.” She hurried about the room, stuffing items into a bag, then gave him a look he couldn’t parse as she came towards the door. “Goodbye, then,” she said, voice shaking.

She looked at him a moment longer before skirting around him and out the door. Her scent as she passed was a mix of lavender, upset and fear. He turned to watch her leave, baffled. She was obviously scared to be in his company. How it came about that they had shared a room, he couldn’t understand. Maybe after a bit of a nap, things would be clearer. Or maybe not. He wasn’t sure he cared at that point. He had a room, and a bed, and he was exhausted.

He closed the door, setting his armour and swords by the bed before dropping onto it. He was asleep almost immediately.

-

Aniela had had a short, fitful sleep. She’d stayed up late, waiting for Eskel to return. Eventually she had laid down, but her worried thoughts had kept her awake a while longer. She’d then tossed and turned, waking often from troubled dreams. When the sun had started to creep over the horizon and Eskel still hadn’t returned, she’d given up on trying to sleep and gotten dressed. She was fussing over a shirt she’d already mended when Eskel finally returned to their room. Relief flooded her as he entered the room looking relatively unharmed. She jumped up from her perch on the bed and stepped towards him.

“Eskel! I’ve been so worried, are you alright?” Her eyes searched his face and armour, checking for obvious damage. While he looked a little worse for wear, somewhat bloody and dirty, she couldn’t see any concerning gashes or tears. Her worry edged off a little more until he reached towards his swords and she froze.

“Who are you?” he asked gruffly. “What are you doing in my room?”

Watching someone reach for a weapon while looking at her set off flashbacks from the last day in her village. After years of mistreatment, being attacked solely for the crime of her birth, of being different. Called names, hit with stones, boots, hands, called slurs. She shook her head. Eskel loved her, he would never harm her. She willed her heart to settle its frantic beating, her mind to calm. What had he just said, though?

“Wh-what do you mean?”

She watched him look around the room in confusion and tried to understand what was going on.

“What do you want?” he demanded. She looked into his eyes and she felt fear take hold, shivering down her spine. His eyes held none of their usual warmth or care. He was looking at her with confusion, suspicion: as a stranger.

“Eskel,” she said, willing her voice steady, “do you not know me?”

“No,” he answered gruffly, eyes narrowed, “should I?”

She gulped. She didn’t know what had happened on his hunt. Had he hit his head? Did he have some form of amnesia? But wouldn’t he then be more confused and lost in general? He seemed like himself, it was only her that seemed to be the problem. Her memories were fighting to take over her thoughts, people shouting, throwing things, pushing, hitting… her heart was beating like a drum inside her chest. If he didn’t remember her… maybe it was best to leave it that way. She sometimes worried that she was a burden. Eskel hadn’t asked to be saddled with her and her issues: she’d fallen into his lap, and he’d been too kind to push her out. He’d saved her that day in her village, and had let her tag along with him, having nowhere else to go. Then her life had been linked to his, and he had no escape, no choice. It wasn’t fair to him. Her mind was clouded and panicked and screaming for her to run. He didn’t know her. He had no reason to trust her, let alone care for her. The logical part of her brain knew that Eskel would never hurt anyone without just cause, stranger or no, but when she had seen him reach for his swords, logic had fled.

“It’s… uhm… the inn was short of rooms, and so we were rooming together,” she fabricated. He frowned and she rushed on. “I’m sure you want to rest, so I’ll… I’ll get out of your hair.” She hurried about the room, stuffing her things into a bag. She snatched the glamour bracelet off the table and slipped it on as she left.

She looked at him on her way to the door, wondering if it was the last time she would see him. Taking in his beautiful golden eyes, strong jaw, full and soft lips…

“Goodbye, then.” She felt she might choke on the words as they passed her lips. She looked at him a moment longer before stepping around him and out the door. She hurried down the hallway and stairs and out of the inn, as if she could outrun her memories, or the look on Eskel’s face.

She sped through the village, not even registering her surroundings. As she walked, her mind whirled and fought with itself. She had left Eskel without confirming that he was unharmed. What if he had a hidden injury that needed attending to? What if his apparent memory loss got him into trouble? But what help was she really to him? She couldn’t fight monsters, like Lambert’s witcher lover. Didn’t bring in coin, like Geralt’s bard. She was only a worry and a burden. A drain on Eskel’s coin and energy. But he loved her, and she was abandoning him. And what was her plan? She would make it maybe a week, a week and a half at the most, being apart from Eskel. She would start getting weaker well before that, as Yennefer’s spell that tied her life to Eskel’s stretched thin: it would be maybe three days before her energy would start to flag. But she’d been living on borrowed time anyways. She should have died a few years back, it had just caught up with her. Nothing to be dramatic over. Everyone’s time came eventually. 

She walked through the day, desperate to make it to the next village. She had nothing with her to camp out with, having only taken her clothing and personal items, no bedroll or blanket, and now having no witcher to protect her.

She made it into the next town late at night, handing over too much of the coin she kept for markets in order to procure a room. One more thing to remind her of how much she depended on Eskel. The remaining coin wouldn’t last long, and she didn’t have a plan. But she was exhausted, both from walking and from her panic. Making any sort of plan was a problem for tomorrow. Tonight she gratefully fell into the small bed, not even bothering to take off her clothes before wrapping the blanket around herself and passing out.

She woke sometime later, in the dark of night, screaming from a nightmare, alone. Without Eskel’s warmth and reassurance, back rubs and gentle words, it was a long while before she fell back asleep.

-

Eskel slept through until dawn the next day, waking with a muzzy head. He reached out to the space beside him, confused when he found it empty. As he blinked his eyes and his mind woke up, he wasn’t sure what he had been looking for, but couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing.

He ordered a bath from the innkeeper, and after bathing he pulled out fresh clothing from his pack. The first shirt he pulled out, however, didn’t appear to be his. Upon unrolling it, it seemed to be a woman’s blouse. He frowned at it in confusion. Did it belong to the woman that had been in his room? But how had her shirt made its way into his pack? Nothing about the encounter or the woman was sitting right with him, and it was giving him a headache trying to figure it out. Had she been going through his things? But how had she managed to put her shirt into his pack? It didn’t make sense. Not much did, at the moment.

As he shook it out to look at it, the faint smell of lavender met his nose. It felt comforting, which was further confusing. The woman had smelled of lavender, but he didn’t know her, and no-one else he knew used the scent. Lavender was meant to be calming, sure, but he didn’t have a personal connection to the scent. Not that he could remember, at least. So why did he feel warm and comforted by it? Why did his chest feel so tight? He drew in a shaky breath. He still couldn’t remember the fight he’d been contracted for, and he worried he was forgetting more than just that. He hoped he might run into one of his brothers on the path soon, if his memory didn’t return before then. He hoped it would: he felt uneasy.

When he went to the stables to get Scorpion, he was further confused and dismayed when the stablehand led him to a horse he didn’t recognize, a dun mare.

“Are you…sure, that this is my horse?” Eskel asked the stablehand sceptically, hoping it was some sort of mistake.

The stablehand looked at him quizzically. “Aye, sir, this is the one you brought to me two days ago.” They petted the horse’s nose affectionately. “She’s been a good girl, haven’t you, Acorn?”

He had never had a horse named Acorn. The horse, the woman in his room, nothing made sense. He was glad he was headed to Kaer Morhen. He hoped his brothers would be able to help him sort things out.

-

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Geraskier modern au holiday angst fic, as threatenedpromised!

Geralt and Jaskier were fuck buddies for 3 years, but now haven’t spoken for another 3. Until…
Set at a New Years party, featuring Yennefer friendships and, well, angst, with happy ending. 3,891 words

Thanks to @soundslikepenance for spitballing with me and helping sort it out! <3 

Songs:
You’re So Vain by Carly Simon
Winter Song by Sara Bareilles & Ingrid Michaelson 

-

Geralt followed Yennefer through the doors into the gala. He’d never enjoyed parties, let alone grand events like this, unlike–well, he hadn’t been to a party in years.

Yennefer attended the prestigious New Years Eve gala every year for work, and Geralt had unwillingly been roped into being her date this year. As they entered, the noise hit him like a wall. People laughing and chatting, glasses clinking. The room was filled with well-dressed, wealthy, attractive people, and Geralt felt wildly out of place and uncomfortable. He tugged at the bottom of his suit jacket, then reached to tug at his tie before Yennefer caught his arm.

“Stop that, would you? You look very handsome.”

“I look like a monkey stuffed into a suit. How do people wear these every day? This is hell.”

Yennefer rolled her eyes, emerald eyeshadow shining in the light. 

“Don’t be ridiculous. I wouldn’t bring you if you didn’t look good on my arm, and I wouldn’t dress you in anything that didn’t make you shine.”

Geralt shifted uncomfortably on his feet. His beard had been neatly trimmed, his hair pulled back in a tidy ponytail, showcasing his undercut. His hair felt too tight, he could already feel a headache coming on, and his tie was choking him. The suit jacket that Yennefer had had tailored for him seemed to pull across his shoulders. He chewed at his lips and fisted his hands, resisting the urge to tear it all off. 

“I don’t know why I have to be here,” he grumbled. 

“I needed a date, and you had nothing better to do. And you make good arm candy, if you’d stop shuffling around and grimacing.”

“Whyme, Yen. You know I hate things like this. Why not Triss, or Eskel, or—” 

“Stop complaining. Here, have a drink.” Yennefer grabbed two champagne flutes off a tray as a server passed them by, handing one to Geralt.

He followed behind Yennefer as she schmoozed with clients and co-workers, standing obediently beside her, politely nodding and smiling when it seemed to be required. About half an hour after they had arrived, the entertainment was announced.

“Beautiful people and wretched dogs, please put your hands together for tonight’s entertainment, the Continent’s heartthrob, Dandelion the Bard!”

Whoops and cheers erupted from the crowd as dread fell over Geralt like a bucket of ice water. Jaskier. Jaskier was going to be singing tonight. Jaskier, whom he hadn’t seen since the holiday season three years ago, when Geralt had possibly ruined the best thing he had in his life, before he had the sense to realize it. 

The backup band took the stage.

“Yen, what the fuck?”

“What?” she asked, turning wide purple eyes on him, feigning innocence. 

“Did you know he would be playing tonight? Is this why I’m here?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’ve been able to tell when you’re lying for years now, Yen. And it’s like you’re not even trying to be convincing right now.”

“Fine. I suggested Jaskier as the entertainment.”

Geralt scowled at her. “What are you trying to accomplish with this?”

“He’s a great performer, and it pays exceedingly well. I was doing him a favour.” She shrugged.

“And that’s it?”

“Should there be more?”

Jaskier had taken the stage to applause and cat-calls, and before Geralt could come up with a retort, the first song started, one of Dandelion the Bard’s most popular hits on the radio that year. His eyes caught on Geralt partway into the song, and an expression flitted across his face that Geralt couldn’t quite parse before it was gone again and his performance mask was firmly back in place. When the first song was over, Jaskier murmured to the musicians for a moment before the next started.

“Son of a gun. You walked into the party like you were walking onto a yacht,” Jaskier sang accusingly, staring straight at Geralt. Staring straight into his soul, Geralt felt. He rubbed at the back of his neck.

They had been sleeping together for three years, before that went to shit, and they hadn’t seen each-other for the three years since. Geralt had been convinced it didn’t matter, at first. He’d hardly even considered Jaskier a friend. The man was loud, restless, and flighty. They’d had sex when they were drunk or bored; they’d had a lot of sex, but it hadn’t meant anything. Or so he’d thought, at the time.

They’d fucked in bathroom stalls after Jaskier’s shows in shitty bars where no-one cared he was playing, on Geralt’s couch with their sweats on like horny teenagers, on the beach (only once, that was a mistake - sand for days). They’d fucked daily the weeks that Geralt’s gym was closed for renos, in Jaskier’s bed when he had crumpled a notebook’s-worth of pages trying to write a song, once in the hallway outside of Jaskier’s apartment, against the wall. Angry sex when Yennefer started dating Istredd, soft sex when Essi moved away for college. Waking up in each-other’s arms or beds had been as natural as not, after three years.

He’d known he was just one of many hookups to Jaskier, and that had been fine. He hadn’t had as many as Jaskier, but there had been a few others. A couple of late, drunken nights with Triss. One memorable night with Yennefer, which was perhaps the crux of the whole thing.

Jaskier sang a few more upbeat songs, and then seemed to deflate. The band left the stage, and Jaskier sat down at the piano, starting a quiet, melancholy tune, then joining it with his voice. Geralt stood transfixed, the rest of the room and chatter dying away until all he saw, all he heard was Jaskier and the piano. 

“They say that things just cannot grow, beneath the winter snow, or so I have been told,” Jaskier sang, full of feeling. “Is love alive? Is love alive?”

Geralt took in a shuddering breath, goosebumps running down his arms. He gave himself a shake. Get a hold of yourself, he urged himself. It had been three years. If all the emotion Jaskier was channeling was for someone, it surely wasn’t for him. They hadn’t even been dating. He’d told the man they weren’t even friends. His stomach clenched at the memory.

“This is my winter song. December never felt so wrong, ‘cause you’re not where you belong; inside my arms.”

Geralt’s ears were ringing faintly.

* two and a half years ago *

Geralt sat on his couch, brooding. He’d been doing a deep clean of his apartment, and that had come to a screeching halt when he had started to take the couch cushions off to vacuum it all and had found a pink guitar pick. He’d picked it up, stared at it for a good few minutes, replaced the couch cushion, and dropped back onto the couch, still staring at the piece of pink plastic. He flipped it over and over in his hand, as if it would reveal something to him, then picked up his phone. He scrolled through his contacts to the J’s, paused, then scrolled further down to the bottom.

“Geralt,” Yennefer said by way of greeting.

“Yen, I think I fucked up.”

“Pray, be more specific.”

“I was deep cleaning my apartment–”

“Geralt, you know I don’t do cleaning. If you want the name of the company I use–”

“No, Yen, I was cleaning the couch, and I found a guitar pick.” He could hear the sound of Yennefer’s nails tapping irritably against something on the other end of the line. “I, um, I think I… miss him.”

A long-suffering sigh came over the line. “Geralt, you are an idiot.”

“Thanks, Yen, glad we could have this chat–”

“Alright, alright. I’m listening.”

“I just, uh. It’s been really…quiet.”

“Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“I thought it was. But I…I miss the chatter. The humming as he ran his fingers through my hair, the singing in the shower.”

“This is literally the beginning of the list of annoying behaviour you dictated to me a year ago, Geralt.”

Silence buzzed along the line.

“I think you’re right,” he mumbled.

“I’m always right.”

“I’m an idiot.”

“It’s part of your charm.”

“Hmm.”

“Maybe you just need to get laid. When was the last time you–”

“With you.”

Stunned silence. “But that was– Geralt, honestly, how…”

“I haven’t been interested in anyone else.”

“Geralt, really, I thought I was clear–”

“I didn’t mean you.”

Another sigh. “Why don’t you call him, then?”

“I can’t, Yen.”

“I don’t see why not. You just called me.”

“After that fight… he doesn’t want to hear from me, Yen.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I’m fairly confident.”

“I don’t know why you called me when you aren’t going to listen to me. I have things to do, Geralt.”

Geralt sighed. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Alright. Goodbye, Geralt.”

-

“Yennefer.”

“Jaskier.”

“To what do I owe the dubious pleasure of this phone call?”

“Are you seeing anyone?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Are you?”

“No offence, Yennefer, but I have no interest in that flavour of–”

“I don’t either, poptart, not in a thousand years.”

“Then why are you asking?”

“Geralt misses you.”

Jaskier scoffed. “I really don’t think so. Apparently we weren’t even friends. Three years spent loving someone to be dismissed as a fuck buddy and told to fuck off… Shit. Fuck. I didn’t say that. You didn’t hear that. Anyways, he has you now, so I really don’t see what need I could be fulfilling that’s now missing. Plenty of dick in the city if that’s what he’s after.”

Yennefer made a noise of exasperation. “Jaskier–”

“Lovely chatting with you darling, but I must be off.”

“Jaskier, please–”

“Got to go, left my cat on the stove. Ciao, darling.”

* the gala *

“My love a beacon in the night. My words will be your light, to carry you to me. Is love alive?”

From the way he was singing, someone had broken Jaskier’s heart. Geralt felt a wave of jealousy and anger at the thought. As if he had any right. That didn’t stop his heart from wishing the words were for him. 

The song ended, drawn out and haunting, the last note played fading into the quiet room. Jaskier looked morose. When the note had faded out, he stood slowly, giving the audience a half-hearted smile. 

“Thank you so much, you’ve been lovely. I’ll see you in half an hour for the second set,” he said before walking off-stage.

“Wonder who that was for,” Geralt murmured to Yennefer. She stared at him with narrowed eyes. 

“He hasn’t been with anyone,” she said.

“What?”

“He hasn’t been with anyone seriously since, well, you.”

“He was never withme.”

Yennefer rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean, Geralt.”

“But then, that song, the way he sang it…”

Yennefer arched a brow.

“There’s no way,” he said.

“And how would you know? Have you spoken with him, in all this time?”

“No,” he muttered, staring at his shoes.

“Maybe it’s time you did.”

“He won’t want to, Yen.”

She let out a noise of exasperation. “You won’t know until you try! Worst case scenario, you’re right. You come back here, drink more champagne, eat more appetizers, then I take you home, and nothing has changed.”

Geralt worried his lower lip. The idea of approaching Jaskier after all this time, after what they had last said to each-other… it was terrifying. But it didn’t look like Yennefer was going to let this go. And when he thought of how Jaskier had looked as he sang the song, and as he left the stage… it made him ache. Not that he felt there was anything he could do about it. His musings were interrupted by Yennefer. 

“He slipped out onto the back balcony. Take this,” she swiped another glass of champagne from a nearby tray and handed it to him, “and go find him.”

“Yen, I really don’t think–”

“I didn’t ask you to think. I told you to go.” She gave him a firm shove in the direction she had indicated. Geralt sighed and started making his way through the crowd.

He pushed out the door onto the balcony to find Jaskier leaning against the railing, a half-full glass of champagne in one hand. Jaskier turned when the door opened and raised an eyebrow. He looked tired. He offered no greeting, but he also didn’t immediately tell Geralt to get lost, so that was… something. Geralt walked over and leaned against the railing a few feet away.

“Good set,” Geralt offered.

“What are you doing here, Geralt?”

Geralt cleared his throat and looked out at the view. “Yen made me come. What are youdoing here?”

“Yenna asked me to. And it pays well. Verywell.”

“Good for you.”

“Quite. So, enjoying living the high life with your girlfriend? I always thought you hated parties, but maybe it was just that you hated going to them with me.”

“Ido hate parties. I—”

“So it was me, then. You’ll put up with them for her,” Jaskier said bitterly. “Even one like this, where you have to dress in a suit, which I know you hate, and it’s full of rich, snobby assholes, and—”

“Jask—”

“Geralt,don’t.” Jaskier wasn’t even sure what he was asking, only knew that he didn’t feel prepared for whatever conversation this might turn out to be.

“It isn’t like that.”

“Likewhat,exactly?”

“I’m here as her date, as company, but that’s all. She’s not my girlfriend. We aren’t together.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

“Yen and I… we were never anything. I mean, we’re friends. Good friends. But nothing more. It was only the one time.”

“Geralt, honestly, I don’t care.”

“I just thought… you should know.”

“What difference does it make?”

Geralt shrugged miserably. He knew he was doing a shit job of this, but he was at a loss as to what he should say or do. He stared out at the scenery again, before stealing a glance back at Jaskier. The singer had come straight outside from the stage, and was dressed only in his high-waisted pants and a white silk blouse, frills at the neckline (which was unbuttoned, so that hadn’t changed) and the wrists. He shivered as a winter breeze blew through, and Geralt straightened up, putting his champagne down on the railing.

“Here,” he said, shrugging out of his suit jacket and reaching out to drape it over Jaskier, before thinking better of it and pulling back a bit, offering it to Jaskier to take.

“I’m fine,” Jaskier protested unconvincingly.

“I don’t want to wear the damn thing anyways, and I know you’re freezing. Just wear it until you go inside.”

Jaskier hesitated, then took the jacket and slung it over his shoulders.

“Thanks,” he murmured.

“No problem.”

Geralt’s scent wafted up from the jacket and hit Jaskier’s nose like a punch. Suddenly he was thrown three years back.

* three years ago *

“You slept with Yennefer?!” Jaskier demanded incredulously. 

Geralt shrugged. “What of it? You sleep with someone new every week. We used protection.”

“That–that isn’t–I mean I should hope so, Geralt, but that isn’t the issue.”

Geralt scowled at him. “What exactly is the issue, Jaskier?”

“Theissue is–” Jaskier paused. The issue is that I’m in love with you. But he couldn’t say that. They were strictly friends with benefits, he had no claim on Geralt, no say in who else he slept with, as long as they were following the rules set out and communicating. “The issue is that you have a crush on her, and you’ve been spending all your free time with her lately, and, so, you can’t just sleep with her like it’s nothing!”

Geralt furrowed his brow further. “Why the hell not?”

“Aha! So you don’t deny it!”

“Why should I? And what does it matter to you?”

“Well, Geralt, as your best friend–”

“You’re not my best friend.”

Jaskier sputtered. “Oh! Really!”

“Really.” Geralt crossed his arms, feeling belligerent. 

“Well, do tell, Geralt, what are we, then?”

“Fuck buddies.”

“And, and that’s it, then? Just a quick shag when you’ve got an itch to scratch?”

“Yes?”

“Right, well, what a fool I’ve been, hmm? Bringing you soup when you’re sick, and helping with gum-in-hair emergencies–”

“It was yourgum,” Geralt interrupted.

Jaskier continued like he hadn’t heard him. “And coming over when you’re moping and depressed to watch horror movies, and gods, well, once a fool, always a fool, hmm?”

“Oh,fuck off, Jaskier.”

Jaskier reeled back as if he’d been hit. So this was it, then. Three years of pining and caring, some mind-blowing sex, and he was going to be left by the wayside for a gorgeous, purple-eyed witch. Three years of being in love with the man he counted as his best friend, and he didn’t even rank above fuck buddy. It seemed he hadn’t gotten any smarter with age, but he knew enough to cut his losses. He knew when he wasn’t wanted, knew better than to stay past that point. 

“Right! Well, maybe I will! Just a fuck buddy, no great loss! I hope you and Yennefer are very happy together.”

He didn’t, really. He hoped they tore each-other apart. He knew that was awful. He loved Geralt, and he had admired Yennefer. But he was miserable, and bitter, and he truly couldn’t stand the thought of them being happy together. 

“Maybe we will be,” Geralt spat back, arms crossed, looking disgusted and vicious. Well. That was that, then.

“See you around, Geralt.”

Jaskier had stormed out of Geralt’s apartment, down towards the street, then stopped and dropped down onto the front steps, wondering what the fuck he had just done. Sure, he was sleeping with plenty of people, but no-one else really meant anything. Geralt was the only constant, the only one that mattered. Or he had been. Jaskier considered going back up, but what would he say? No. He wasn’t that pathetic. Three years was enough. Time to cut his losses. He sighed and pulled himself up, trudging away towards the bus stop.

* the gala *

“I miss you,” Geralt whispered.

“What?” Jaskier asked, startled out of his reminiscing. 

Geralt wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I know I have no right, but I miss you. I fucked up. You… I didn’t realize what I had, how I felt for you, until you were gone. I still wake up sometimes, reaching for you…”

Jaskier stared at him, wide-eyed and stunned. 

Geralt cursed under his breath. “I know it’s too late. But for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I took you for granted.”

Jaskier stared at him for another moment. “Is this because no-one brings you soup when you’re sick now?” He gave a wry smile, but his eyes stayed sad.

Geralt chuckled. “No.”

“Yenna do that for you now?”

“No.”

“Hmm.” Jaskier fiddled with a button on the jacket. “What if you weren’t too late?”

“What?”

“What if you weren’t too late? What would that mean? What would you be hoping for?”

“Another chance? To try again, to do it right.”

Jaskier mulled that over in silence for a minute. 

“It was about you. The song,” he murmured.

“I know.”

“They both were. Well, they all are, really. Pathetic, after three years.” Jaskier looked up at the ceiling, blinking rapidly.

“Not pathetic, but more than I deserve.” Geralt rolled his shoulders. “I think this is why I’m here. Why we’re both here, really. No offense. Yen does love your music, but–”

“No, you’re right. I was pretty sure it wasn’t just a gig. Can’t say I really expected this, though.”

“Is it? Too late, that is.”

Jaskier’s lips twitched upwards. “My love a beacon in the night. My words will be your light, to carry you to me,” he whispered softly.

“Is love alive?” Geralt asked quietly back.

“It might be, under all the snow.” Jaskier looked at him with shining eyes, then took a tentative step forwards, which Geralt matched. 

“Can I…?” Geralt asked, reaching his arms out slowly. Jaskier sucked in a shaky breath, then stepped into his embrace. Geralt pulled him in, holding him close, squeezing when the emotions overwhelmed him. Jaskier’s breath grew ragged and he buried his face in Geralt’s neck, damp lashes pressed against warm skin.

“Where have you been for three years?” Jaskier demanded fiercely, not removing his face from Geralt’s neck.

“Wallowing in my stupidity. I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me.”

Jaskier wrapped his arms around Geralt, gripping his fingers into the back of his shirt.

“It was always only you, for me. You were the only one that mattered.”

“I didn’t know what I had until I lost it. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Jaskier.” Geralt buried his face in Jaskier’s hair, breathing in the still-familiar scent, grounding himself. 

“If we try again… If you hurt me again, I’ll… well, I’ll tell Yennefer, and she’ll do something terrible to you!”

Geralt chuckled into his hair. “I can agree to those terms.”

Jaskier started to pull back a touch when his phone buzzed in his pocket, jarring him back to reality. He pulled it out of his pocket and checked the screen.

“I have to be back out there in a few minutes,” he said, tapping off the alarm, pulling out of Geralt’s arms and wiping at his eyes. “Do you have plans at midnight?” he asked with a wobbly smile.

“I’m here and available,” Geralt rumbled.

“Lovely. Come up and find me at the end of my set?”

“It’s a date.”

“Isit?”

“If you like.”

Jaskier cocked his head. “Maybe I do. I’ll see you soon, Geralt.”

“Sure.” Geralt watched him walk to the doors, making no move to retrieve his jacket. He hoped not to get it back until Yen demanded it. “And Jask,” he called out as the other reached for the door.

“Yeah?” Jaskier asked as he turned back.

“I listened to all your songs. They’re good.”

“Thank you. I’d hoped you might.”

“It was…nice, to still hear your voice.”

Jaskier gave him a lopsided smile. “Stop making me soppy, I have to go perform.”

Geralt smirked. “My apologies. I’ll save the rest for later then.”

“There’s more?!”

Geralt shrugged with a smile, eyes gone soft.

“Til later then.”

“Til later.”

Further into the night, the countdown found them at the edge of the crowd, by the side of the stage. Jaskier’s face was flushed from performing, hair slightly sweaty, yet still managing to look artfully tousled. Geralt’s shirtsleeves were rolled up, his jacket stashed back with Jaskier’s things.

“Five!”

“I choose you, Jaskier. If you’ll have me.”

“Four!”

Jaskier cocked his head. “All of you?”

“Three!”

“All yours. I can’t promise perfection, but–”

“Two!”

“I’ll try to show how much you mean to me–”

“One!”

“Every day–”

Jaskier grabbed his collar and yanked him in, pressing a fierce kiss to his lips. It tasted like champagne, yearning, and hope.

Neither of them was aware of Yennefer, a ways behind them, smiling like the cat that got the cream.

-

Thanks to @lohrendrell&@veritasrose for beta’ing/helping me nitpick

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Green & Gold ch. 11

The last!! chapter of my cat witcher OC (Nix) fic. See the Masterpost for content/warnings. Masterpost here.

Time to say our goodbyes at the end of winter.

-

Aiden walked into Nix’s room as she was packing. He sat on her bed, beside her pack, and started neatly packing her clothes as she piled them beside it.

“So, you’re going down with Eskel,” he said.

“Yeah.”

“I’m happy for you, kit. You’ve been smiling a lot more lately. And I’ll feel better knowing you aren’t out there alone. I know,” he said before she could interrupt, “you’re perfectly capable, but still. It’s lonely. And it can be dangerous.”

“That’s the life,” she said. She dumped the last few items on the bed. “But, I know. I’m glad too,” she said softly.

“I know he’ll be good to you. But, if anything happens—”

“Aiden—”

“If anything happens,” he continued, “you know the route Lambert and I usually take. Come find me, ok?”

“I’ll be fine, Aiden. I’m not a fresh-faced witcher, leaving for my first time out on the path.”

“I know that. But a lot has changed for you lately, and times have been hard, and…listen, I know Eskel, I trust him, alright? And I know you’ve been getting along really well up here. But you never know what it will be like out on the path. So just. In case there are any issues… you know where to find me, hmm? Don’t wait until you’re desperate this time. Ok?”

“You really are a mother hen.”

“That wasn’t an answer.”

“Yes mother, if I really need you I know where to find you.”

Aiden smiled, grabbing her hand and pulling her into a tight hug. “I love you.”

“I know,” she said, muffled into his shoulder. “I love you too, you nagging lout.”

He grinned and let her pull back.

“I’ll let you finish and see you downstairs.”

“Alright.”

Aiden left Nix and went to find Eskel, coming across him in the kitchen, packing supplies for the hike down the Killer. 

“Hey,” Aiden said.

“Hey. You found Nix?”

Aiden nodded. “I’m glad she’ll be with you. I would have worried if—”

“I know.”

“I wanted to tell you what I do, when she gets overwhelmed, or has an anxiety attack….”

Eskel set down what he was packing and turned his full attention to Aiden. 

“We go through the senses. I get her to try to match her breath to mine, then to tell me the most distant sound she can hear, the faintest thing she can smell, the furthest thing she can see, the softest thing she can touch, something she can taste. We don’t always do them all, but it helps ground her.”

“Thank you. I’ll remember.”

Aiden nodded. 

“If you hurt her, I know where you live,” Aiden said with a smirk, but something sharper in his eyes.

“I promise to take care of her. If I fail her, I’m all yours,” Eskel replied seriously. 

Aiden stepped forward and pulled Eskel into a hug.

“I’m glad. That she’ll have someone; that it’s you.”

“Thank you. Me too.”

Aiden laughed. “I’ll let you finish in here,” he said, heading back into the hall.

Nix had come down and she and Jaskier were teasing each other.

“Sing only good things about us!” Nix said. “And don’t sing about me unless you want me to feed your favourite doublets to Lil Bleater.”

Jaskier gasped. “You wouldn’t!”

Nix narrowed her eyes. “I absolutely would. Anything personal will get all your doublets thrown into his enclosure, including the one you are currently wearing. With you in it.”

“Right,” he said, tugging nervously at the hem of his current doublet. “Of course, my dear. Well, you have fun with your puppy, I mean, Eskel.” He gave her a cheeky smile. 

Nix gave him a shove and he laughed, then she pulled him in for a hug. He stood still in surprise for a moment before wrapping his arms around her in turn.

“Be safe, take care of each-other,” Jaskier said.

“You too.”

“I’ll bring new poetry for you next year, but take this for the road.” He handed her a slim book. “You’ll like this one, and it won’t take much room in your pack.”

“Thank you,” she said softly.

Geralt got up from where he had been sitting with Lambert at the table to sling an arm around Jaskier’s shoulders. 

“Look forward to seeing you next year. Keep my brother in line,” Geralt said with a smirk.

Nix smiled. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Eskel had come out of the kitchen and was making his rounds, giving hugs and murmuring goodbyes. Lambert got up to drape himself over Aiden’s back. 

“Don’t let him take any succubus contracts on his own,” Lambert told Nix with a grin.

“Oh shut up, Lambert,” Eskel said with a scowl.

“Why?” Nix asked, brow furrowed. 

“I’ll tell you next year,” Lambert promised, and Eskel just sighed. 

Vesemir had come from the library to join them.

“We look forward to having you back next year,” he said, giving Nix a warm smile.

“Thank you,” she answered softly.

Eskel had finished his goodbyes and come to stand with Nix, his pack on his back. He caught her eyes and held his hand out.

“Well. Are you ready?”

She took his hand and grinned.

“Yeah. I am.”

-

THAT’S IT FAM. Thank you so so much for those of you who read and enjoyed this, reblogged, left comments or tags, you have truly warmed my heart! If you have things you had hoped to see, please feel free to drop me an ask, and I’ll see what I can do! I have a few others projects I need to attend to now, but if you ask for something, I will likely come back to it. 

-

Thx@lohrendrell for beta’ing

-

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Geralt x Reader

a/n: This fic was inspired by this creator’s drawing. I thought the idea was really adorable and the plot just kinda came together in my mind. So I hope you like it!!

word count: 2.1k

The breeze pushed against your face, causing the smell of wildflowers to surround you, lightening your heart after a heavy morning. 

You awoke to the sound of pounding on your door and a bloody Geralt on your step, leaning against the doorway as he could barely stand. You had ushered him in quickly, stumbling under his weight. Tucking him into your bed, you had to work fast on healing his wounds. Afterwards he had fallen right to sleep and has rested ever since.

Feeling secure he would be alright, you headed out to gather more ingredients from your garden as healing him had used up an abundance of your readied stock. 

Opening the door to your cottage, you keep your eye on Geralt’s sleeping form as you place down your baskets on the table. Crossing into your bedroom area, you seat yourself on the edge of the bed, looking over Geralt and the perspiration coating his face. You urge your heart to slow down as you watch him. He was alright. He was safe. You had saved him in time. 

Geralt began to twitch and jerk, his brows furrowing deeply. You move closer to him in concern. 

“Geralt?” You call out, your concern clouding all rational thought. And that’s what caused you to reach your hand out, preparing to move some hair out of his face. But Geralt’s eyes snapped open to see your hand darting out towards him and he reacted instinctively. 

One hand clasped around your wrist and the other jerked out to wrap around your neck. Your eyes widened and you let out a yelp as Geralt lifted you and brought you down on the other side of the bed. His hand on your neck kept you from bouncing and his body was quick to hover over yours. 

His eyes frantically moved around your face and they almost immediately calmed when he noticed it was you. But they soon widened again as he realized his hold on you and his hands loosened. You let out a few heavy pants. 

“Good afternoon,” you greeted breathlessly. Geralt looked into your eyes and your heart picked up as his pupils dilated. Then he furrowed his brows into their usual position and let his forehead drop into your neck. 

“Ugh, I’m sorry,” he said gruffly, his voice partially muffled by your skin. You smiled softly, your hand coming up to run your fingers through his hair. A guttural rumble sounds from his throat. 

“It’s alright, I’m used to it,” you try to assure him. Geralt was usually sleeping outside, not having enough coin to rent a room. He had to be vigilant. You couldn’t expect him to let down all his defenses when he was with you. You had learned not to startle him and an incident like that hadn’t happened in a long time. But your concern for him outweighed your own self preservation. Geralt shakes his head against your neck. 

“You shouldn’t have to be used to it,” he argues, guilt and a fierce protectiveness seeping through his tone. 

“I want to be,” you argue back, a little more sternly. Geralt was stubborn. You knew if he got any solid ideas about leaving you for your own protection, it would take a lot to convince him you wanted to be his. It took a strong voice to be heard over the raging thoughts in his head. Geralt went silent and you knew you had settled any thoughts. 

“I’m sorry,” Geralt said again, his body sagging into you more deeply. He was cold. You squeezed your eyes tightly as you tried not to think how close he had come to death. 

“As you’ve said,” you state curtly. Geralt sighs and his hot breath contrasts greatly to his cold body, causing you to inhale shakily. 

“For coming here. I shouldn’t have.” His words shake you out of your own dreadful thoughts as you process them. Your head rears back as you try and cast him an incredulous look. 

“And why not? You were hurt,” you explain, your voice showing how ridiculous you thought he was currently being. His hand leaves your neck to dig deeply in your hair, clutching the strands close to your scalp as his other hand threads your fingers together, squeezing them tightly. 

“I don’t wish to only come to you when I’m hurt,” he expresses lowly. You knew how vulnerable that one sentence made him feel as he was not used to such proclamations so you squeeze his hand back in return and press a kiss to his temple. 

“Then you should stop by more often,” you say softly, a light smile on your face. Geralt grunts. 

“I can’t. There are monsters to kill,” he says shortly. You click your tongue, rolling your eyes at his words. 

“And they’ll still be there after spending a few days with me,” you explain the obvious. There would always be more monsters. But you would only have so much time with Geralt… 

“Speaking of monsters…” Geralt began. His hands slipped out of your hair and your grasp before he started swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Loud and painful grunts sounded throughout your cottage as he tried to sit up straight. Your eyes widened. 

“Oh no. No, Geralt. You are not leaving,” you say forcefully, getting up on your knees and shuffling around him and off the bed. 

“I have work to do,” he says simply in return, bracing his hands on the edge. He hesitates to push. You’re swift to tug him back down, forcing a grunt out of him. 

“Yes. You do. Healing, that is all the work you’re going to be doing today,” you order brutally. His eyes flicker up to meet your own as he sends you a look, silently questioning if he heard your tone correctly. When you remain staring at him, he cocks his head. 

“I’ll heal fine on the ride,” he challenges. You raise a brow in return, your hands rising to sit on your hips. 

“With all your wounds stretching and pulling as you ride roach? No way. You’re staying here,” you challenge back, back ridged in fear of him leaving and getting hurt again. You don’t think you could handle it if he went out there again so soon and got hurt. 

“I can’t,” he resists again forcefully. You let out a desperate whimper and you step forward, sliding your hands up his arms, across his shoulders, and around his neck. 

“Just for today, Geralt. Please, stay and let your wounds seal. At the very least. Stay with me, Geralt. Just stay,” you say, practically begging him at this point. Geralt gazes up into your eyes as if trying to read them. He looks over you for a few long moments before he lets out a long sigh. His hand reaches out to cup your cheek, his fingertips tickling your hairline. 

“Alright. For you and you only. Know that I don’t give a damn about my wounds. I do this for you,” he says sternly, finishing off the statement with a firm nod. Your lips curl into a beautiful smile as you let your cheek fall into his hand. 

“I know,” you breathe out, your heart fluttering as Geralt sends you a rare smile of his own. 

“So… what is your post healing treatment plan?” He asks, removing his hand from your cheek to palm your hips and tug you towards him till you’re standing between his thighs. Your brows furrow. 

“My what?” You ask, not understanding what he’s talking about. Geralt quirks up a brow at your confusion and he squeezes your waist with widening eyes. 

“What are we going to do all day? Because if I’m going to remain a prisoner here, I will not be resting,” he states matter of factly. You let out a sharp laugh at the comparison. 

“Prisoner, huh?” You ask, your voice teasing. Your hands reach out to hold his jaw and he responds by sending you what’s considered by Geralt to be a cheeky grin. 

“Indeed. But the warden is quite agreeable,” he adds, pinching your leg. You yelp, jumping a little before narrowing your eyes and scrunching your nose at him. 

You go to shoot back with a quip of your own when the perfect idea strikes you. A smirk is slow to form on your face. Geralt will hate it. But it will probably be the best thing you have ever done. With his white hair and sharp features, it will be marvelous. 

“You know what, I think I have the perfect idea…” you say, trailing off. Geralt raises a brow but doesn’t say anything as you help him up from the bed and bring him out deeper in the meadow. It is there you suggest him letting you braid flowers into his hair as he soaks up the sun. 

“No.” Is his immediate response. Your lip juts out, your hands threading together as you knee-walk closer to where he’s sitting. 

“Oh, come on, Geralt, please,” you beg, hoping the look in your eyes is enough to convince him. He shakes his head, refusing to look at you and instead, looking down to fiddle with a flower next to him. 

“I will not fight monsters with flowers in my hair,” he explains, his voice rougher than before as he refuses. You drop the look and the begging to send him a much more serious look. 

“Well then luckily there will be none of that today!” You say strongly. Geralt pauses in playing with the flower. He looks up, meeting the hard expression you send him. You two are motionless as you stare off. You notice his jaw clenching the longer you meet his intimidating gaze. Eventually he loses, not being able to resist you. 

“Fine,” he grits out. Your features immediately brighten, your eyes sparkling and your smile wide. You clap lightly as you move to sit behind him. 

“You’re going to look dashing, my love,” you express dramatically, leaning over to kiss him soundly on the cheek. You feel his cheek warm under your lips but no color surfaces. 

“I have no doubt…” he says, leaning back and relaxing enough for you to be able to work. 

And work you do. You work silently and diligently, picking the perfect flowers from the ones surrounding you both. You twist and braid the flower stems, hiding them within his hair so only the petals are visible. With selected flower colors and a pattern, you make quick work of filling his hair with flowers in a way that was more than tasteful, it was beautiful. 

You look between your work and Geralt as you braid. You notice the way his body relaxes further and further the longer your hands thread through his hair, occasionally massaging his scalp. You see the way his eyes are closed as he enjoys the quietness between you and the warmth of the sun on his skin. No lines between his brows and no natural frown on his lips. 

He appeared to be in peace, more so than you had ever seen him. You couldn’t help but add a few extra flowers, if only to prolong the process for him. You didn’t want to disrupt the divine moment of serenity between you. 

But eventually, you had to finish, braiding in the final flower. You breathe in deeply before moving to stand in front of him. You hear Geralt mumble a ‘huh’ and you feel bad for a moment as you realize he was close to falling asleep. 

“Okay, I have finished! Come, come, look and see,” you urge, holding his hand and tugging on it lightly. Geralt stands, with your help, and the two of you make your way to a pond a few feet over. You both lean over, looking into the water. “What do you think?” You ask, looking at his reflection. Geralt remains silent as he stares at himself. You bite your lip in anticipation. 

“I think monsters will quiver in fear at the sight of me,” he says with a small grin. He leans up and you follow, looking at his eyes and waiting for them to meet yours. 

“That good, huh?” You ask with excitement in your voice as you bite down harder on your lip. Geralt’s grin widens as he watches you. He reaches out and pulls your lip away from the confines of your teeth. 

“Certainly, darling. It’s wonderful,” he says fondly, looking entirely ethereal with the sun behind him, hitting his hair just right. You squeal, jumping out and curling your arms around his neck as you hug him as tightly as possible without hurting him. 

“Oh, I knew you’d like it!” You exclaim, knowing that he may have hated the idea but he couldn’t deny the result was nice. Geralt’s arms encase you, holding you firmly against him and ignoring the sting of pain he felt while doing so. Because you were worth it. 

“Yes, that’s it,” he replied knowing he would do anything just to make you smile at him. 

velvetcloxds:

THE LAKES | GERALT OF RIVIA

• Pairing: geralt x princess!reader
• Word count: 0.9k
• Warning: mentions of war
• Summary:“while I bathe in cliffside pools with my calamitous love and insurmountable grief” - your love for him started a war and he’d go to the ends of the earth to protect you from it
• A/n: moodboard by @sarahisslytherin, this fic is part of my taylor swift fic series <3

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