Rain - Eskel blurb

AN// / just something I wrote to avoid doing important things. I hope you like it! This isn’t as angsty or tooth-rotting as most of my stuff, but I wanted to write it. Just an average crappy day with a soft payoff

Much love

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Eskel x f!reader (she/her only used like 5 times but nothing else defining)

Not beta’d

Rain wasn’t a traveler’s friend. Sure, it can be picturesque, stave off heat and even save lives from time to time. Velen rain, however, is a completely different beast with a vengeful heart of its own. For days the skies have been dark and showering the land with heavy storms. They’ve been tolerable enough for hiking and inn bouncing, but once Y/n and Eskel found a job, the game had changed.

A mysterious flying creature, that had been picking off local children, brought the couple on a wild chase. Every victim had a different disappearance point and no witnesses. With one in town, and two in a local clearing, there were practically no leads.

“The rain has washed away most of the evidence.” Eskel huffed. He was crouched over the wheelbarrow the latest victim had. People had left the latest scene the same as to not tamper with the scene for when help finally arrived. It was a great sentiment most towns don’t have, but the weather doesn’t care for the convenience of man. A gloved hand clasped the Witcher’s shoulder, the grip feeling light through the rain cloak, armor, and gambeson. Warmth couldn’t have transferred through the touch, but a small part of his chest warmed. The annoyance that painted a grimace on his features died down, though not completely. When Y/n knelt down, however, and more of her body heat began to seep into his side, patience started to overtake him.

“What’s the diagnosis? Or anyideas on what it couldbe?” The hunter noticed the effort put forth to make her tone sound more playful and optimistic. Though, on her features, brows were knitted, and a frown brandished. Her eyes wouldn’t pick up nearly as much as his could, though she still raked over every inch of the scene with her eyes. Any hope for finding answers here was quickly dwindling in her eye. Eskel’s body moved with his deep inhale, a raspberry leaving him towards the end of his exhale. His knuckle met his eyebrow, the hand brushing it gently. He sat in thought before looking to his companion.

“Nothing here will help us.” Their faces mirrored the other as their lips drew into tight lines, and eyes began searching the other. Minutes pass and more rain falls, Y/n being the first to move. Her hand dropped from his shoulder before reaching into her small notebook. She flipped to the latest used page.

“’Terrible squawking’ and ‘dogs going crazy’ gives us something though, right? What do we know that squawks and disturbs animals? A cockatrice, slyzard, griffin-?” Eskel looked back into her gaze, trying to solve the puzzle as though it resided in her eyes.

“But what about the girl in town? Something that flies would be too noticeable. Animals can be spooked by anything. ‘Squawking’ isn’t what I’d call whatevernoise Nekkers make, but it could fit the bill to an untrained ear.” The human filed away the small notebook and stood, holding out her hand for her companion. He takes it, though doesn’t fully drop the hand. They stood close enough to have hands and arms brushing at every movement. Eskel wasn’t one for PDA, and this certainly wasn’t the right time for it, but the gravitational pull between the two was too powerful to ignore. Despite not seeking touch, he was calmed to stand this close, fingers only intwining in passing. He hoped his companion felt the same and was always assured when she never pulled away.

“But don’t they travel in large packs? What leads mindless creatures to start coordinating and pull off a series of kidnappings?” There was a slight tinge of sass, some normality brightening the small space between them. In that moment, the rain didn’t matter, as Eskel’s small smile brightened Y/n’s entire vision. The Witcher replied in kind with sass,

“It’s as likely as a large creature flying into town square and only a dog noticing.” The argument had continued. In the end, they had decided to split up. Both creatures lead them into the woods, though from there, two options laid before them. While the Witcher could face whatever he found, they had agreed she would fire a whistle arrow into the sky to alert her of finding whatever it was.

An hour into their search, and Eskel heard an arrow from the base of the large hill the forest surrounded. It didn’t take long for him to get there and noticed a cave at the base of the much larger than anticipated hill. Scratching around the narrow entrance pointing to large creature. Blood dragged against the ground with clumps of feathers painted many different pictures for the Witcher, enlightening him to some of the past victims’ fates. His eyes closed for a brief moment, sensing a heartbeat inside the cave. Another, more human sounding one, came from a short distance away.

Once they met up, they got a plan together. Since the opening of the cave was small, it would be a dangerous fight. Both fighters knew they wouldn’t be able to lure it our of its home in this weather, but both would need to go in. The Witcher hated when they needed to fight together, Y/n being more of a ranged specialist that sat out of most things. It seemed for a moment, though, that everything was going to be great. The fight was easier than anticipated and there was much that could eb harvested from the remains.

During the fight, however, the rain had washed out their path back out of the cave. The easy decline of the cave entrance was easy to slide down, though in a matter of minutes it became a mud trap. Nothing either of the two tried was working. Traction couldn’t be found, and the rain continued to make the floor an aqueous safety hazard.

When all said and done, the two finally did arrive back to their inn room. Both had been practically silent since exiting the cave, anger and fatigue gripping them both. Once they had arrived, it was clear past dusk, and the innkeeper was not gracious enough to fill a bath. Mud filled boots and stained close were dumped into the empty tub for a future task, and Eskel used ingii to heat the large bucket of water they were allotted. Tension was palpable as they both washed down with towels, anger at the innkeeper fueling both into quick and silent wash downs. Neither cared to put more than smallclothes on, crawling into bed sounding more appealing.

Eskel laid with this back to the bed, Y/n laying slightly on top, head tucked under his chin. She went limp, starfish sprawling over him and the bed. One hand found his though, and her fingers gently slid between his, interlocking them. The skin to skin contact of their stomachs gave enough warmth to where there was no need for a blanket. Their heartbeats started to sync despite the speed differences, their breaths in time as well. They still didn’t speak. They didn’t have to. The day was long and rough, but at the end of the day, they had each other.

On the path, life wasn’t always glitz and domestic, heartfelt moments. Luckily, they both had love to guide them to peace.

Gwent 2- Witcher Lambert

Request: “Hello my dear! I just read the Gwent fic with Lambert and I was curious if you would write a second part? I loved it and the ending made me curious about what might happen the next morning with Lambert talking to Jaskier, the other witchers reactions to lambert losing his clothes in the game etc. I would love to read it! Thank your for sharing your wonderful writing!”

AN//Thank you!!! I really hope you like this! It took me a bit to actually think of a plot, but I enjoyed writing it. Thank you very much for spending time reading and requesting! And double thank you for the kind words : ) Much love!

Lambert x F!reader (Game/books in mind, but no spoilers and can be replaced by Netflix Lamb ig)

Language warning?

Part 1 - can be read without but first part recommended

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Cards. Cards are everywhere. It was as if a Gwent elemental had formed, and Lambert had fought tooth, nail, and… shirt to keep it at bay. Eskel hadn’t even meant to stop, but the whirlwind that is Lambert distracted him from his morning goat duties. When the bulkier witcher finally made it to the table, there was a lot to take in.

His youngest brother had his trousers on, unlaced, with his shirt laying on the edge of the table. From what inventory Eskel could gather, Lambert’s entire collection laid out in unorganized piles around them. Some on the table, some on the bench. Brows rose when he noticed the smaller, haphazardly strewn about pile on the floor. Once, when Lambert caught Geralt doing the same thing, and the younger practically had a mental breakdown, going on about ‘card abuse’ and ‘disrespecting the game’. Their human friend’s cards laid in a nice pile, faced down.

“So, it went well last night?” He wasn’t reallyteasing. The large witcher was honest in not understanding the scene in front of him. Sharp eyes flew to his, a sour expression accompanying them. Before Lambert could form a response, a small epiphany flew over his features. Strong hands flew over card piles, quickly rearranging things. Finally, after a few minutes of silence cut by card movement, Lambert finally looked to his brother.

“Why don’t you go entertain the one thing that actually wants you here?” Eskel’s eyes rolled before looking back down at the piles, still trying to find the logic in them. He knelt down by the pile on the floor, fingers gently tapping them around to see them all.

“You do know women don’t find an innate need to beat them at cards charming? Maybe-.”

“When you actually find someone, then I’ll listen. All courting knowledge you have is from those dumb books you haul back every year.”

“Wow, look at this.” The bard’s voice cut the two witchers short. His slimmer frame found itself across the table from the young witcher, arms resting around Y/n’s deck that lay there. Geralt quietly slides in next to him, steady hand reaching for said deck.

“Finally, someone I can talk to!” All eyes flew to his form in shock. Eskel’s hands also went up slightly in mock offense. Jaskier looked bashful for once, but excitement bubbled in his eyes. If it was what he was hoping for, winter is about to get so much more fun. Geralt was looking at Eskel, smirk on his face before looking back to Lambert. Said man was looking to him, eyes showing betrayal. “Geralt. You’re better than that.” The White Wolf’s body seized and froze.

“What?”

Lambert’s finger jabbed in the direction of Geralt’s held out hand. His fingers where barely grazing Y/n’s deck but to Lambert it was like spitting on it.

“You don’t look at other people’s deck, dumbass. It’s rude.” There was a single moment of silence before laughter erupted around him. Lambert grumbled under his breath before looking to his cards. Once the poet across from him settled down, Lambert looked to him once more. “Buttercup and I have some private business.” Eskel scoffed, looking up from his still crouched position near the floor cards.

“We’d be more inclined to leave if you just asked.” Lambert remained seated, but he twisted his upper body to face his older brother.

“I’d be more inclined to shove my foot up your-.” Again, the poet’s voice cut their conversation short.

“Lambert, I would love to hear what you have to say.” Blue eyes flew to Eskel, and his elbow gently jabbed the wolf that lingered close to his side. Geralt grumbled but he stood. He meandered his way towards the kitchens mentioning grabbing breakfast for himself. Eskel was still hesitant, ready to tease the younger witcher more, but the bard’s eyes were pleading. The large witcher sighed, conceding only for Y/n’s sake. He knew how much the human yearned, and he only wanted her to be happy. Even if it was with a fool like his little brother.

Once Lambert knew all other parties were out of ear shot, he nodded to the man across from him. The bard leaned back, motioning his hands in no certain direction, showing Lambert had the floor. A moment ago, he had all the courage and pride as his normal self, but now all he felt was vulnerability.

“Well, uh, obviously…” he trailed. He waved a hand in the air as though it would conjure the sentence for him. “You understand how courting works.” Jaskier had once again leaned over the table, trying to show his full attention was to this matter. Though, he wasn’t too helpful, as he simply agreed with the sentence. “So, that means you would know how one would go about beginning the process.”

“Another astute observation.” The bard took pity to the desperation behind those sharp, yellow eyes. He gave a small smile before leaning in even further, dropping his voice to just above a gentle whisper. “You already have her attention. More than that, it seems. Y/n isn’t a noble or some all-powerful sorceress.”

Lambert looked like he was at the edge of his seat, eyes beckoning him to continue.

“You have the freedom to court her however you see fit, really. You don’t need to worry about meeting families or failing to impress her. Simply prove your value in your relationship.” Lambert’s fingers rub against his hairline, trying not to get frustrated.

“But we aren’t in a relationship.” The bard nodded, showing that he was willing to sit and explain anything for the better of his friend.

“I understand, but you want to be. Show her what you would bring to the table. She knows the path is hard and dangerous. You would only have each other to rely on out there, and there needs to be trust and understanding in the other’s ability.” They sit in silence for a moment.

“That doesn’t sound romantic.” Even Lambert did a double-take to what had left his own mouth. At this point, there was no need to lie about what the witcher needed to know or was seeking. Jaskier gave a large grin.

“Just the act of giving, the thought that you cared enough to do something for her, should be enough. Like if you were cold, and Y/n went out of her way or sacrificed something so you could be warm. She is showing her value as well as showing she cares for your wellbeing.” Jaskier didn’t understand why or where the bashful look on Lambert’s face came from, but he could tell the witcher now understood. He gave one last smile and nod before standing. “Come back to me when you need help asking her to travel the path with you.” Before Lambert could stutter out a response, the bard all but skipped to the kitchens.

There Lambert sat, no other witcher or companion bugging him or his thoughts. Mentally, he was trying to compile a list of things to prove value. Then there was the subsection of ‘possibly romantic’ things of value. Another list was a recollection of needs she has voiced in the past. The witcher also wasn’t done compiling this new deck….

Y/n had gently walked in, trying to avoid any natural light that passed through the windows. Fatigue still lingered in her form, but Lambert was too focused on her to actually notice her presence.

“Still in only your pants?” Her voice was gentle, but the witcher flinched regardless. As his eyes met hers, everything sly or charming slipped his mind. All topics talked about with Jaskier had also departed, leaving his mouth flapping like a fish. His eyes went to look anywhere else before landing on the cards everywhere.

“I have a new deck!” He forced it out like a child showing his mother a cool worm they found. A smile spread as she sat where the bard previously was.

“Perfect. I need some practice in on my competition deck. The Passiflora is having one a few weeks into spring.” All of the time Lambert spent trying to calculate every move she made in response to his deck flew out the window. It seems like his strategy to try and predict her movements was a bust. His witcher senses started tingling when he felt air shifting around the corner at the edge of the hall. Jaskier stood, half hidden, brows raised. His eyes were wide, and arms gesturing frantically to Y/n. Lambert couldn’t make out too much of what the poet was mouthing, but he picked up ‘practice’ and ‘go for it’. Practice… Y/n needs to practice… Y/n needsto practice. She has a need, and she’s practically enlisted his help. Lambert could do that. He won’t win, but he would be a great dummy opponent. Lambert took another moment to gather himself before responded mechanically and hesitantly.

“If you need practice… I would..love..to…help you improve your game.” His eyes quickly darted to the bard for the moment, trying to ignore both their rapidly beating hearts. This time, the bard is mouthing ‘compliment’ with a thumbs up, and a wave of the other hand to continue. “Not that you needpractice, cause you’re, uh, good at the game.” His voice trailed off at the end, his mental scolding and cringing starting before the sentence finished leaving his mouth. Lambert’s head was ducked slightly, and his eyes darted to hers through thick lashes. Y/n’s skin flushed, hands fiddling with her own deck sitting on the table. A smell of warmth and joy wafted from her in waves, and Lambert tried desperately to keep his smile inwards.

“Perfect. I was going to help Vesemir in the greenhouse, but would you be free to play this afternoon?”

“Of course.” He, in fact, wasn’t. The young witcher promised to help with repairs, as he took yesterday afternoon off as well. Lambert was mentally preparing himself to ask his brothers to cover for him, though he knows there will be some form of hell to pay. In the grand scheme of things though, he would spend more time with his favorite human, and that’s all that matters.

Eskel Blurbs 2

AN/// Here’s another one. Some people seemed to like the other, so here I am! Check out my masterlist, I’ve written quite a few full fics for Witcher, so check them out : )

Part 1 – Eskel Blurbs

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–X—-

People bustled about outside of the inn, muted footsteps tuned out over an hour ago. bodies littered few and far between below the Witcher’s shared room, none coming near the room itself. Overall, it was quite peaceful. His muscles worked through a familiar pattern, the mindless moving of the whetstone adding to the calm. The wolf’s companion had set out through the market before he had started, and only recently did he finally reacclimate to being alone. For a split moment, minutes after the healer had left, the Witcher turned to empty air after expecting a reply.

It was a shocking realization. With all of his heightened senses, noting objects and people around him was easier than breathing. Eskel had simply… expectedY/n to be there. He was quick to turn to sword repair, as the chore would be a great distraction from the embarrassing moment.

He hadn’t paid much attention to the clock, Y/n being one to take her time shopping. Months ago, when she had first suggested to go to market alone, he was silently thrilled. The Witcher hated the feeling of lingering eyes and unjust anger. Though, that relief was accompanied by fear after remembering how dangerous large city markets can be.

Y/n, however, is a grown adult. Eskel had no right or claim to her, and the Witcher constantly scolded himself for thinking otherwise. There was no reason to have his thoughts linger on her absence. Sure, they’ve traveled together for over half a year, but that doesn’t mean much to most. Even if it meant the world to him.

Eskel felt his heartbeat pick up just a fraction as he recognized the footsteps that ascended the stairs. His eyes darted around the room looking for anything that might make him seem ‘interesting’ before shocking himself out of that line of thinking. Look interesting? Oh, sweet Melitele. This was somehow a new low in the Witcher’s mind. That was something Lambertwould think. A shiver ran down his spine at the thought of being his younger brother before looking to his hands. He was a monster killing mutant who was sharpening a sword, he should already seem interesting!

The key was loud as it unlocked the door, and a firm kick pushed the door open. As the wolf watched, he was surprised she even unlocked the door with how full her hands were. The healer had emptied her bag to shove their large share of dirty laundry instead. Eskel could tell from the soft smell that the large bag on her shoulder’s was filled with finally clean clothes. A thin potato sack turned bag was bursting at the seams. Wrapped hard jerky was somewhere between some books towards the bottom, and glass vials on top. Other vegetables packed in around those items, the pressure just enough to keep everything in the sack ‘just so’. In her hands, Eskel’s steel sword, as well as some other just repaired weapons. It wasn’t until she fully stepped into the room that the Witcher noticed familiar ingredients gently laying in a gathering basket hanging from her other arm.

Healing was a difficult profession, and few can reach a level such as Y/n. The wolf was aware of her healing talents, which was the exact reason why he asked for her assistance all those months ago. Life has been long for the Witcher, but he was sure that despite Y/n’s shorter time, there was much to learn about her. So, for her to walk in with elixir ingredients, he was a bit taken back. He wasn’t sure how much Witcher information his brothers have divulged to others, but Eskel hadn’t said a word. He supposed he was the best out of all of them that could keep a secret, though he also suspected the scars helped. If no one comes to you for information, who do you have to tell?

“Market was packed. I’m glad we checked in on the smithy yesterday.” Slit-pupil eyes tracked every movement she made. Everything was set down and organized in a gentle manner as she prattled on about said market. By the time she was settled on the floor, she hadn’t mentioned a thing about the ingredients. With Y/n on the floor, the bed sat between them, and allowed Eskel to look around freely without suspicion. The basket laid gently by his bag that lay by the wardrobe. For a moment, he thought the items were just a coincidence. Y/n is a healer and is currently sitting on the floor refilling her own supplies. She never once makes a move towards it.

After a long mental debate, Eskel tries to get up as nonchalant as possible. His mouth feels somewhat dry, and his swallow is almost audible. As he spoke, he mechanically put away his things,

“Do you need anything from this basket?” Her head popped up like a prairie dog from the ground. Bright eyes shined in the bright orange light pouring from the window behind him. A small, calm smile was offered to him.

“No thanks. I saw that you were low on some things.” Y/n’s head slowly sunk back behind the bed before it shot up again, eyes this time widened by embarrassment. “Not that I look through your things!” A weird, humorless laugh puttered out at the end. She waved in the general direction of his armor, eyes flying back to whatever she was doing on the floor before popping back again. “I noticed that when you’re low on supplies, you don’t refill your pouch right away.”

The reason she knew why it was low this time was a painful one. Wights were old and rare, curses and hate bringing them to live. It had been powerful, feeding off large bears and elk for years. As well as any passer by unfortunate enough to be so far into the woods. To say he had received everything he gave was an understatement. The Witcher struggled to get back to Scorpion, let alone camp. It was only after the healer came to find him that he made it to safety. Eskel knew she would come somehow, and he counted his lucky stars she was suspicious. In any other case, he most likely would have tried to lecture her, as if he failed, she could have been hurt. In the end, he figured a simple ‘thank you’ would suffice. Y/n seamlessly peeled his armor off him that night, a few other close calls before giving her plenty of practice.

“I just guessed at what you needed, but I’m almost certain I got most things right. Maybe not with quantities, but it’s great quality. I can always run back in the morning before we leave.” Another smile was given to him before she disappeared again. The Witcher could tell she was cooking something with the small alchemy pot they had. Whatever it was, it smelled to be a very potent liquid. Eskel nodded to the open air, puckering his lips in thought for just a moment. He turned to the window as though the now setting sun would give him some answers. A hand came up, thumb brushing under his chin. It slowly slid up, so far, fingertips avoiding all scar tissue. Slowly, but less so gently, they scrubbed over the surface of his cheek, fingers barely getting caught by the unevenness. It stopped for a moment as he thought. His eyes traveled down to his bag, then back to the sun. When he came to, his fingers too resumed, though dropped quickly back to his side.

The Witcher had to dig to the bottom of the bag as he made up his mind. Despite remembering most things in life, Eskel made mistakes. That is exactly why he keeps a small, short-hand guide to all potions, essences, and bombs he has ever learned. When he finally found purchase on the pocket-sized book, he pulled, lucky that most things stayed in his bag.

The wolf moved as gently as possible around the bed, an entire little operation in front of him. When he knew he caught the woman’s eye, he flashed the book quickly before setting it down. It was at the edge of the workspace, almost like an offering made to an altar. Despite trying to pour hot liquid into one of their beakers, it seemed like her entire attention was on him. Though, that’s what it always felt like to him.

“We’re not supposed to hand these out, so…” Eskel tapered off. Why did he say it like that? “I mean, if anyone were to be trusted with Witcher secrets… It’s a book of my elixirs, and I thought maybe you’d want to look sometime.” By the time he was done, and he calmed himself from stumbling thoughts, he truly looked at her. What she was doing was discarded to the side. The healer listened intently, a look as if a great responsibility is now bestowed upon her. She gives a curt nod, tone firm and confident.

“I’ll keep it safe.” Her hand reached, grabbing onto it with such care, and it reminded Eskel of how she touches him. Small brushes to the hand here or there. The soft pressure while giving stiches or the gentle manhandling she’s capable of when helping him out of armor. Eskel tried to form the softest smile he could muster as they made eye contact.

“Thank you for the supplies.” He disengaged, but as he looked away, he could see the forming of a blush. It almost made him do a double take, just to make sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him. What was the Witcher thinking? Of course his eyes were playing tricks on him.

—X—

“Women love me, okay.”

The woman’s lips pursed as she slowly left the room. Her eyes were wide, and brows raised in suspicion. Eskel tried to hide his smile, but any fraction of one becomes obvious with the cleft. He shifts over from his spot on the wall to standing next to his younger brother. A large hand reaches, clasping Lambert’s shoulder lovingly.

“It’s not love if you pay for it, bud.” Lambert ripped his shoulder from his brother’s grasp. His lips pulled back to a sneer, and a glare was thrown at the older wolf. Yellow freckled eyes traveled back to the hesitating figure in the doorway, Y/n waiting with a smirk. The healer slipped from the doorway to the corridor without closing the door.

Rage boiled, and Lambert’s finger jabbed the air, pointing to where the human just was. With his finger still raised, somewhat wagging disapprovingly, he stomped to the old oak. Once the door was within arm’s reach, he slammed it shut. The spry man turned, finger now pointing at his brother.

“You keep her in line.” During the stomping, Eskel took a seat on the chest at the edge of the bed. Eskel looked up, raising his hands up in defense. Lambert scoffed, rolling his eyes. He opened the door wide, hand waving to it. “I don’t want you here either.”

A deep rumble floated from the seated Witcher, and slowly came to a crescendo, head lolling back due to laughter.

-X—-

“Months?” The healer’s voice was soft but congested. Winter was fast approaching, and the Witcher was just now dropping the news. He had waited until one of the last major cities before mentioning anything. Or rather, instead of waiting, he has only now found the courage. Eskel could look mothers in the eye to present passing of children or lonely spouses their lover’s body had turned up. For this, the Witcher looked everywhere but her eyes.

He could practically smell the sadness wafting from her. Despite what had grown between them over the year they’ve traveled together, he didn’t think he had any right to bring her to the fort. The tall adult nodded, head hung almost in shame.

“I’m not the only one, and I never had the opportunity to ask.” It was a lie pure and simple. Sure, he didn’t ask, but he was certain that if he did, they’d say no anyways. Despite being a fragile human in a den of Witchers, there are still many risks. Eskel trusts her, and that would mean a lot, but he needs to make sure of things first. Why does she really stay by his side? Looks, money, fame? Just the thought makes him cringe. He was a mutant with nothing. Why is she here?

Eskel Blurbs

AN/// I’m starting to do a same world/timeline collection of blurbs. Here are my first couple! Not beta’d but please enjoy my sleep deprived quick tales!

Eskel X reader fem!

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Pt.2 up!

Air forced its way from her lungs out into the cold corridor. The hot springs was still six doors down, but her legs refused to bring her any closer. Burning was familiar after a long day of walking, but after this morning, it has evolved. The burn crept through her core, into her chest, wrapping around her heart and legs. Muscles contracted in her shoulders, her back trying to work overtime to help her diaphragm drag in air. Abs could have formed with how intense the ache was in her stomach. Sweat dripped from her forehead, falling onto the already damp shirt. Stones on the wall the healer leaned on tried desperately to cool her, but to no avail.

After a moment of rest, Y/n finally was able to drag herself back into the middle of the hallway with the intent of bathing. All of the hairs on her arms stood as she felt a presence behind her, though her nerves were quickly smoothed. Then frazzled once more. Her gasping had brought in the familiar scent of hay, leather and that ethereal spice.

The healer’s eyes landed on Eskel’s large form making itself small. Hands hovered over her, hesitant to help. Molten gold churned in his eyes, along with worry as he watches her struggle to catch her breath.

“What were you doing?” Y/n tried desperately to pull herself together, throwing up a thumb over her shoulder to fill the silence. Once she straightened herself, the lovestruck woman tried to give her best nonchalant smile.

“Jaskier invited me to his ‘beauty jog’.” Scars pulled and tightened as his brows flew towards his hairline. Surprise lined the Witcher’s voice as he inquired,

“And you accepted?” A remorseful nod was given with an only slightly sarcastic,

“A mistake on my part.” The wolf chuckled, the notch in his lip making his small smirk look more feral to most. His arm hesitated, but still stuck out towards her, offering itself as a crutch. A small, bashful smile was shown in thanks and acceptance as her arm laced itself around his. He led her towards the baths, his eyes frequently flicking down to catch glimpses.

“Was running something you were hoping for? I assumed you’d prefer to rest through winter.” Embarrassment was clear in her demeanor, though she still answered truthfully.

“Well, the bard was very compelling…” Y/n paused, eyes raking along the stone walls. Or anywhere, really, that wasn’t Eskel. “He was mentioning a few contracts and I got to thinking. I’m there to support you, but how can I do that if I’m slow? You only have forty-eight seconds before melinaw sets in. Melinaw poison is common in the South! Now, I’m not saying you’d lazily stubble into a bush and get poisoned, but it’s a possibility.” At some point in her rambling, they had made it to the door. The wolf looked down with soft eyes, lovingly taking everything in.

Heat pours off her skin, along with the scent of her efforts. Sweat crusted on her forehead, blood still clearly pumping fast throughout her body. The healer’s eyes caught his staring.

“You would run for me? That is commitment.” His voice was somewhat teasing, but also held something so vulnerable. Hope, maybe. Her eyes drop to where Eskel’s heart resided; a small habit the Witcher had noticed a while back.

“Well, if that’s all I had to do to prove commitment, I would have run ages ago.” Tension built, Eskel swallowing hard. His free hand came up to his jaw, his thumb rubbing just under his chin for a moment. After rubbing away whatever fictional thing resided on his chin, he swallowed again, finding courage to respond.

“I would never ask you to.” It seemed the healer lost herself in the cat pupils the Witcher donned. They softened, giving almost a round shape. The black giving a sturdy island in the middle of golden tsunamis.

“Regardless…” she trailed. It didn’t need to be said, as she had said it a thousand times before in thousands of different ways. Eskel’s eyes snapped to the door, gently pulling Y/n out of the way. Loud footsteps approached, and Lambert appeared once the door was thrown open. As he stomped away, he threw back a jab at the two. The snip in his tone, steam rolling off his skin, and small towel all alluded to their conversation interrupting his bath.

“I’m glad I like running. It’s helping me get away from this boring-ass conversation. Maybe you should focus on practicing ‘saying what you mean’.” The older Witcher bristled for only a moment before silently wishing Y/n’s arm didn’t drop his own. Whishing her eyes would peer back up at his once her embarrassment leaves along with his younger brother. He clears his throat after a moment, once more grabbing his muse’s attention.

“I would run. For you, that is.” He gives a closed mouth smile, one he practiced for a long while. One he is convinced make him look ‘less frightening’, not realizing the healer’s love for all of him. The older man gave an almost imperceivable bow of his head before stepping back. “Enjoy your bath. It seems well earned.”

A thought lingered in his mind, something he scolded himself for not being able to verbalize.

“Runner or not, I trust and love you.”

-x—–

Nothing annoyed the feral Witcher more than being in the dark.

Lambert had picked up on Jaskier staring at Y/n a little over ten minutes ago. It seemed that he was the only Witcher in the room that had noticed, and it drove him crazy. The way everyone was positioned in the library, the youngest Witcher was the only one who couldn’t see what Y/n was doing. With her back facing him, he was having difficulty figuring out what was so interesting to the bard. This whole time, he had thought she was reading, as practically everyone else was.

With the rest of the fort being too cold, everyone converged in front of the library’s massive fireplace. Lambert was the closest to the flame; the fire practically kissing his back. He had Gwent cards splayed in front of him, but it seemed some of his space was taken by the bard’s foot. That’s what grabbed the wolf’s attention in the first place. Jaskier’s leg was outstretching slowly as his full attention was on the woman. Every few seconds, the brunet will hunch over his journal, furiously scribbling. Giddiness rolled off the poet in tidal waves, making the older man visibly gag. Jaskier had originally been seated upright next to Lambert, but it seems he had slowly inched his way to have Y/n’s face in view.

Y/n had been seated at one of the cleaner tables in the room. In reality, it was the only clean table in the room. Lambert had been the first one to hunker down. Eskel had wandered in a while later, minutes before his companion. The older wolf swiftly danced around the room, cleaning the books from the table in question, and putting them away. He sacrificed a rag in his pocket to the dust and grime that coated the top, and once it was clean, he still seemed put out. It was only until he quietly lifted the table and moved it the perfect distance away from the fire that he was satisfied. When finished, he flashed a look to Lambert. His eyes were torn between daring the young Witcher to say something and begging him to stay silent. To give mercy.

It ruffled his feathers in a way. Where was his mercy from the stifling lovefest? It’s not fair that the idea of ‘them’ is what everyone was focusing on this winter. Despite that, he swallowed his jests, and silently prayed that him being idle led to a quicker end of their dance.

She had wandered in after the large man plopped himself down on a couch on the far wall. Yen and Geralt had taken to talking on the couch, books open on their lap to keep up appearances. Vesemir fluttered around, seemingly only reading a couple chapters of a given book he picks up before placing it back on the shelf and finding a new one.

Nothing the lovestruck girl did was grabbing the attention of anyone but the bard. But why!?

Lambert gives in, tapping the musicians foot. The bard’s eyes snap to him, almost angry he’s being taken away from the show. A well-placed eyebrow and a pointed finger were all Jaskier needed to start explaining. Though, his response was just as simple. Eyes followed lute calloused fingers as they pointed from the healer at the table to the scarred Witcher. Oh.

Jaskier’s eyes flickered to the entity sitting next to him as he could hear the smirk form. Lambert mouths ‘daydreaming’, to which, he receives a nod. Lambert, too, splays out. He is so confident, that the young Witcher’s bravado caught the attention of the White Wolf. Then, in turn, Yen’s interest.

“Hey, uh, Y/n? You still want to play Gwent tonight?” His tone lazily hid his amusement, but to his pleasure, she didn’t notice. In fact, it seemed her answer was on autopilot. Y/n never backed down from Gwent, and it was the perfect distraction topic.

“Uh-huh.” Lambert finally noticed how she was seated. Her head was in one hand, perfectly angled to be reading with the older Witcher in the background. This was too easy. He preened as another autopilot answer was given to his next question.

“Great. I’ve got some new cards. Hey, isn’t he framed justperfectly in this firelight?” To the vagueness, everyone looked to the two of them. Eskel’s eyes flickered from his brother to Y/n as she gave a curt ‘yeah’. It took the large man’s wide, golden eyes for the healer to process what the Witcher said.

Y/n’s eyes go wide, embarrassment clear on her face. Her eyes fly to the table around her, and her hand mechanically goes to her forehead. With a shaky voice, she announces her departure

“Oh wow, would you look at that? It seems I’ve forgotten my cards back in my room.” The healer quickly snaps her book shut, stumbling out of her chair. To play it off, she turns back to the room, still shuffling backwards towards the door. A thumb is thrown up, pointing over her shoulder, giving her emphasis. “Back to the ol’ room. I’ll, uh, be back.” Y/n threw up a large grin but dropped it when the door is within arm’s reach.

The bard’s foot that was outstretched knocked at Lambert’s closest limb. Jaskier flashed a disappointed look, not voicing his opinion in the same room as Eskel. The young Witcher and bard have had multiple conversations about Eskel and Y/n; the poet begging Lambert to leave their friend’s relationship alone.

–X—

“Why does is it sound like you’re not expecting me back?” Eskel’s large form was framed perfectly in the doorway, the overcast throwing sludge snow towards the earth behind him. Her lips puckered, hands raising, as she lifted herself to her tiptoes. Ever so gently, Y/n brought Eskel’s hood to rest perfectly on his head.

“I trust your skills. Of course I trust you.” The looming figure kept his smile internal as her heartbeat confirmed the statement as true. The healer’s eyes drop, as well as her frame. Her hands hesitate before leaving the hem of the hood. Those same hands found their place upon her hips, then slithered together across her chest. Then, one raked through her hair, until she finally found her voice. “I don’t trust the elements. I mean, look out there! I bet you there isn’t anymore solid footing, and thatis needed.” Pride, bashfulness, joy and love all swelled throughout the Witcher. He simply wished he had the confidence-no, the self-love needed to confess.

Golden eyes catch the light from the nearby torches as they intently look to the woman in front of them. He tried to convey everything he felt in that moment, hoping she understood that he feels the same way.

“I promise to be as vigilant, and as safe as possible. I will return.” She must have picked something up, and she responded with a nod and a somewhat satisfied smile. Y/n takes a small step back, as if reintroducing the rest of the world to their moment.

“Happy hunting.”

The Blame - Eskel

AN/ Heyo everyone! Here’s a little something I was doing while restless, and we need more Eskel content. I got the idea while scrolling through prompt lists, and I’ll link it here :)This was much longer than I anticipated, but I hope you enjoy

Fluff/angst/ angst resolution?

Eskel/fem!reader —- not beta’d

masterlist

It was the warm hands she felt first; fingertips brushing lightly down her spine. Then it was weather-dried lips that followed. They hold an almost shy air to them as they hover over her pulled and puckered skin. He wasn’t scared to show affection, and he knew the touch wouldn’t be rejected, but these scars hang over his head as much as the ones he bares on his cheek.

Eskel’s lips travel from the lowest mark that was over the last right rib, stopping three places, and ending over the left shoulder. It was the worst of them all. There was a crater where smooth skin and lean muscle used to be. Under shirts it isn’t noticeable, but nobody who was there could ever forget the sight.

An arrow lodged itself into Y/n’s collarbone from behind, splintering off into multiple directions. Just when they had thought they got all the pieces out, another piece of stone would be found. The rest had luckily been clean, but due to the close range of the shot, it had been messy. Yennefer is a great sorceress, but even when it comes to magic, Triss had always been more medically inclined. But the chestnut-haired woman wasn’t there. Eskel and Y/n were lucky to even have Yen.

The two lovers had gotten back to Kaer Morhen earlier than expected. The year prior, there was a deal made between the head carpenter of Vespaden to have extra supplies picked up for fort repairs. So, instead of heading South, they stayed North of the Pontar, eager to help try and repair the place their hodgepodge family calls home. Y/n had become used to The Killer, and they had decided it was better to drop off their regular supplies at the fort, so they’d have an extra free cart to use.

Laying in wait was a bandit camp. They had the forethought to be ready if a Witcher was still alive and had wanted to come back for some reason. What the bandits hadn’t expected, was a witcher and a companion returning to a mostly functional home. Three men ambushed the Witcher as two more sprung out from the shadows.

Arrows went flying and swords were crossed, but in the end, it was the flying hilt of a sword that brought Eskel down. The bauble smashed into his eyebrow, the pain rocketing through his eye socket, and rattling him to the core. It was a blur to him until it was too late. Y/n had finished with settling the animals for the night, coming in as the man hit the ground.

Before Eskel had even tried courting Y/n, Vesemir had made sure she knew basic self-defense. He could see that she would be sticking around the family, but he knew there was nothing scarier to a Witcher than a human. Or more importantly, a human lover. They could be there one minute and gone the next. Even if they do have long, natural lives, it is only a fraction of what a Witcher lives.

Two of the ambushing bandits had been thrown on their ass, but Y/n disengaged the second an arrow was drawn but pointed down to the Witcher on the ground. He was clearly trying to get up, but Eskel couldn’t even get his eye to focus, let alone stand or defend himself. She used her wet pants to her advantage across the cold tiled floor as she slid towards him. Her arms and body encompassed a majority of his much larger frame and the arrows were let loose.

Pain bloomed throughout her back, but it was a shout from the entrance that took all of Y/n’s attention. The bard had let out a shout as he and Yennefer entered. Magic was thrown, and Geralt had followed the shout.

As the Witcher’s lips hover over the old wound, he remembers the fear he felt as his vision came back to him that day. All he could see in his arms was his lover and her blood. If he had just been a little faster. A little stronger. If he was better at being the thinghe was changed into, the one thing he was good for, then maybe Y/n wouldn’t carry these burdens. The last time he messed up, when he tried defying destiny, he received penance. Eskelis the one to wear the burden, scars presenting proudly the cowardice he once had. Again, Eskel had felt he had made a mistake, but he can’t carry this.

It was only after Y/n shifted on the bed to look at him did he come out of his head space.

“So, are you going to kiss me? Or are you going to glare at me all night?” Soft, sunset eyes crinkle in confusion. With a slight tilt of her head, she points to the mirror on the far wall that perfectly framed the two. “I don’t blame you.” Y/n’s voice was soft in delivery, but it was firm with truth. Eskel pulls back, thumb brushing over the edge of the welt on the hill of her shoulder.

“I know.” That too was soft, but mechanical. He has heard it countless times, been told in thousands of different ways, but he can’t shake it. Hell, he can hear the truth in her heartbeat, smell the trust that has a resemblance of warm bread wafting off her skin. Y/n releases the softest of sighs as she finally wiggled on her shirt. She then stood and demanded the world to shrink to just the two of them. Her now demanding air suggesting that whatever she was about to say should be considered law. Hands were on hips, and Y/n even bent at the waist slightly to try and tower over her lover. It was similar to a hardheaded adult trying to convince a child that eating vegetables isgood, or watching Lambert conduct any kind of conversation.

“Do you? Because it seems to me that you somehow found another backwater way to blame yourself.” Eskel huffed, sliding back to the edge of the bed, casting his concentration to putting on his boots. He was more emotionally inclined than his brothers, but this was one of the few topics he bristled on. The Wolf was used to living a life hiding behind the large signs that say, ‘vicious, brutal, do not enter’. It was still centuries easier to shut down then to try and work through it. “It was my idea to volunteer for us to get supplies. And if we hadn’t gotten there first, it could have been someone else that got hurt. Yen is powerful, but it was an ambush. What could have happened to our good friend Jaskier? Geralt was outside, and the bard hates violence. While Yen is busy dealing with three others, she couldn’t possibly look out for him too-.”

“That’s not it.” Eskel’s voice has a certain huskiness to it that gives his interjection an almost growly tone. He stops because of it, taking his time to breath. He swallows a few times, still tentative and worried that one day his voice could insight fear into his lover like it had countless to people before. Despite the years they’ve spent in each other’s arms, there are some insecurities Eskel could never shake. He continues when the first boot is finally tied. “I couldn’t protect you, and that is my job. No, not just my job. It is the one thing I would put above everything else, and I still couldn’t handle it.” Despite the Witcher not looking at her, she stared into the side of his head like he was.

“Love is a two-way street, Esk. It’s not just your ‘job’ or ‘desire’ to protect me. It’s mine too. I am willing to make every sacrifice to make sure you’re okay.” The words, ‘but I don’t deserve it’ are on the tip of his tongue, but he knew if he said that, they’d never get to this celebration that they were already late to. Y/n stops, arms going limp at her sides. She slowly makes her way around the corner of the bed, stopping between his open legs. A soft hand slowly nudges under his chin, suggesting he look at her. It takes a moment, but his sun-kissed stare finally meets her own. “In the end, it comes down to me loving you. That’s why it happened. And nobody can be blamed for loving someone. Unless you’re going to start admitting that you’re funny, kind, charming and soft, this is just something that you can’t carry. If you’re willing to admit that you’re perfect- and not just in my eyes, then I will allow you to blame yourself. Blame yourself for being someone people want to protect. With even their own life.” Y/n watched as sadness and fatigue started to creep into his eyes.

“But I’m not! I’m not somethingpeople should want to protect. I have thoughts and feelings, but at the end of the day, I am just another monster used to take out other monsters. Once this long lasting glamor wears off, you’ll see it too.” He could smell that fresh bread of love boil with the harsh acid of anger for just a moment before a simple ‘okay’ was heard as her response. Y/n let her hand slip from his face as she slowly dropped to her knees in front of him. She lifted his booted foot to her bare thigh, and her fingers practically danced as she unlaced it. Eskel huffed once again, already feeling tired before the night had even begun, despite the nice day off the two shared in bed. “What are you doing?” His voice sounded small, and it took everything in her power not to back down, and to try to get her point across without breaking.

“I’m taking your shoe off.” It takes until she started to pry his socks off before again, he voices himself.

“We have a celebration to go to.” Y/n looks to him ad shrugs. He could tell her mask of indifference was false, but he was still confused as to where she was going with it.

“No, we don’t. Not technically.” Her hands do stop though, their grip firm against his ankle and calf. “If you’re a monster, then so is Geralt.” Eskel was too shocked to fully register the meaning, eyes going wide.

“What did you just say?” He watched her drop eye contact, looking back down at his sock. Her slip-clad form giving a half-hearted shrug before continuing in an ignorant tone.

“Well, considering everyone makes mistakes, you couldn’t have been referring to that when calling yourself a monster. Especially since I make mistakes, and I certainly don’t think I’m a monster. So, you must mean being a Witcher means being a monster. And this celebration is for the engagement of said monster- and youhave made it abundantly clear that nobody could ever love a monster-.”

“Geralt is different-.” Y/n’s head snaps to face Eskel once more, eyes sharper than any dagger- clearer than any mirror. It puts Eskel under a spell that he wants to pull away from but couldn’t even if he tried. The raw need for trust and belief pouring from the woman in front of him is choking the Witcher. Like he’s drowning, but knows he never learned how to swim.

“No. It’s not. I could give you the rest of my life to let you tryand think of all the ways it is, knowing it’s futile. Because you won’t find any. It’s true I won’t live forever. But I will spend every second of the time I have loving you. And even when I’m gone, I won’t be. I’ll be in your heart, your dreams. I’ll never truly leave you. I don’t want to. And at the end of the day, I can continue loving you while still breathing, I consider that a win. I don’t want to spend our time wallowing on the ‘close calls’ of the past. End is inevitable. But we don’t have to be looking at a bigger picture. Let’s just be two people in love, going to celebrate their brother’s engagement. Dance a little, drink a little. Go to sleep in each-other’s arms and wake up to a new day.”

Eskel simply stared. What was he to say? There have only been a few other times in his longer life that he’s felt his soul concede, knowing it has lost. This could be added to the short list. The brunette knew now that he would never win this argument. Or probably any argument in the future. For a moment, he got angry at himself. Angry for not seeing that dwelling on this truly did chip away at their time together. But dwelling on thatshouldn’t now become the issue.

Y/n must have read his features as she gives a soft smile and starts returning his sock. Like before, words got stuck in his throat, but the simple, ‘I’m sorry,’ wouldn’t budge. His hands cover hers, and her eyes flick to his to deliver a quick wink. She let him take over the task and got up from her spot to put on the dress laid on the bed. Before she stepped away, she brushed a quick kiss to the quirk of his upper lip and giving him another smile.

I’m getting my wisdom teeth removed tomorrow morning

I’ll have the rest of the week off of work, so ill have time to write!!! Send in some fluffy requests so I can fill my pain ridden time with stuff to take my mind off of it. I’m currently getting to my last couple of requests that are in my asks rn, and they should be up tomorrow :)

Please send in stuff for me to write

AN/// Sorry for the wait, work and life has been eating away at me. This week should be a large fic dump though, so expect content!!! Thank you for that fact, as I wasn’t aware. This actually make my heart flutter reading that, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart : ) I hope you like it. I tried to make it more playful at the end

For the wonderful @theichabbieclub​

Making baby sounds as an adult woman was weird. It had to be believable, to an extent, and she had to make it seem like it was coming from the bundle in her arms. Truthfully, there was a child size log with a bomb resting in her elbow, swaddled like a child, though their target wouldn’t know the difference. Y/n’s eyes darted from tree to tree while trying to look inconspicuous, shushing the log while bouncing it somewhat. She could hear the snapping of twigs and rustling bushes, though her head stayed forward. There would be no back up until the thing was in the open, though she had yet to receive the signal that Jaskier and Geralt had made it. Y/n scolded herself, reminding herself that she was a warrior, and she traveled with the White Wolf. She could handle anything by herself, and since there was no real child to take care of, she would be fine. There was a plop behind her, alerting her to the thing stalking close. It was go time.

Y/n lit a match against her leather belt, lighting the fuse. Keeping the bundle wrapped, she quickly kneeled, placing it on the ground. She swiftly started to walk away, only looking back one the thing stopped walking after a few paces, its claws picking up the blanket. Y/n sprinted a few more steps away as the bomb went off, flinging her cape up to shield herself from any stray silver shrapnel. The twisted entity in front of her shrieked, from both pain and the realization that the child was fake. When there was no witcher jumping into the small valley, she knew she was on her own. Y/n quickly charged the beast, silver saber drawn. The creature’s long nails swung, but wasn’t fast enough for Y/n to miss a parry. The warrior was reduced to only defensive measures as the beast was relentless. Soon enough, when Y/n had landed enough blows, the creature made a death throw, going all in. It charged the warrior, grabbing her by the vest, talon like hands digging into her shoulders. Her back hit a tree, and the creature pulled back, bringing her along. Again and again the beast slammed the woman into the tree, starts filling her vision, air fleeing from her body. With every strike against the bough, she could feel her spin rattle, and pain shoot through her ribs. After a handful of strikes, she finally noticed the large piece of shrapnel sticking from the deformed woman’s collar bone, and her hand shot out to push it in. The creature dropped her, and she rolled to her sword, swinging at the thing’s legs. She swiftly cut her down, taking of the thing’s head once and for all. Cuts throughout her vest and shoulders were the only visible injuries, though the internal damage was immense.

Jaskier burst through the bushes, lute raised, but his crazed eyes found her sitting, trying to catch her breath next to the headless creature. He dropped it, Geralt bursting through the bushes next, holding a similar swaddle. Her rows raised, trying to take her mind off the pain, silently questioning the bundle in her lover’s arms and the brown, red spread over her best friend’s figure.

“Animals. Dead animals everywhere. I took this part of the contract thinking I’d come out clean for once-.” Geralt’s scoff cut him off, though his tone was soft, and she recognized it as the tone he uses with her wrapped in one another’s arms.

“You didn’t have a choice.” Jaskier swaggered over to the beast’s body, poking it with his foot before holding out a hand to her. She declined, but motioned to the water skin on his hip, trying to take the attention off of how quickly she denied his help. If she was going to get up, it would be on her own time. She could barley breath as ribs were definitely broken, but she would take inventory in a moment. Though, all thoughts of that ended once the bard’s thumb jabbed backwards in the air towards the slowly moving Geralt.

“We found the kid alive and well. A happy ending for all. Do you think we will be named the kid’s Godly parents?”  Y/n’s eyes never left the witcher, her heart speeding up once more, and drowning out Jaskier’s voice. Wide amber eyes were entranced, staring in wonderment down to the bundle in his arms. His entire upper body was stiff, and he was walking as he would when sneaking up to a monster with heightened hearing. A small hand poked out, trying to grab at the lose white hair that swung invitingly over the child’s face. His brows furrowed upwards, looking almost frightened at the outstretched hand. The pain she felt ebbed away at the sight, nothing existing except the love of her life holding the child.

Much ran through her mind in that moment, many things consisting of the future she wished to spend with the witcher. She knew a kid wasn’t in the cards, but somehow, she would try to convince him to collect his child surprise. There didn’t need to be a cottage, stable job, thriving garden or lazy Saturdays to make Y/n happy. She simply needed Geralt in her future to make her future complete, and his happiness was hers. The glow of reigned excitement was familiar to her, often seeing it in her witcher’s eyes when he looked upon her in public. Y/n tried to be as much as she could for the man, though she was aware she couldn’t be or bring everything. But she would try her damndest.

She was taken out of the frequently repeated vows to bring the witcher light and contentment by the brunette plopping down next to her, and bumping his shoulder into hers. Pain flooded the forefront of her mind, and a gasp came tumbling from her lips. Worry painted Jaskier, and Geralt made for her, but stopped when he heard the child in his arms gurgle. Worried eyes flew over her form, and she steeled her looks to present a smile.

“Claws in the shoulder ‘s all.” He gave an unconvinced nod, but looked back down at the child. She slowly got to her feet, giving the same smile to the bard and began down the path where they had decided to leave Roach. Jaskier continued to hover, making the baby giggle, and Geralt was truly perplexed. Y/n wasn’t going to do anything to ruin the time the witcher had with the small child in his arms, so continued to keep her mouth shut about her ribs and back. Once the trio had gotten to the mare, Geralt had a bashful smile gracing his features. Y/n couldn’t help but truly smile in return, until it turned sour at the witcher’s offer.

“Get on Roach.” Usually Geralt would offer her the horse when she was far worse for wear than he, though she didn’t think it was the best idea. Offering it to Jaskier instead would seem to suspicious, let alone the fact that she had never declined the offer before. The only smooth way to keep her off of the horse would be to ask to carry the baby, though she would never do that when he looked so enchanted. Giving a curt nod, she pulled herself onto the mare, her forehead resting on her neck for a moment to regain her strength. Roach gave a worried snort in response to her tense rider, but luckily, neither of the boys noticed. The trio had made their way back into town, Jaskier singing of the spooky lair filled with animal corpses, Y/n keeping in sobs with every step Roach took, and Geralt wishing every happiness to the babe in his arms.

Hearing the bard’s voice, the mother they had met earlier flew out of the house, almost tripping over herself to get to them. She almost bulldozed the White Wolf, her arms wrapping around the baby. Geralt had a hint of sadness in his eyes, though a ghost of a smile was present seeing the baby smile, grabbing onto his mother’s thumb and shoving it into his mouth. The husband rushed out due to hearing his wife cry. A smile broke across his face as he jogged to them, tears streaking his own face. Mariene, the wife, smiled. Her hand reached up to the witcher, cupping his pale cheek. Y/n smile once more, Jaskier playing triumphant background music as the rest of the village left their tasks to surround them. The woman slowly slid down the horse, watching from beside the bard and mare how praise finally rained onto the wolf. Her hand went to hold her ribs, pushing.

“Thank you! Thank you!” Mariene cried. The thanks fell from her lips like a prayer, the witcher shocked. He shook his head and pointed to Y/n, Mariene pointing praise to the warrior as well. The husband, Bernerd, shook Geralt’s hand as Mariene hugged the lights out of Y/n, quite literally. She tried to say something, but the stars flooded her vision. Luckily, Mariene moved to Jaskier, but the bard’s worried gaze flew to Geralt as he called to him. The witcher quickly caught the fainting woman, all joy taken by fear. He was quick to her side, his amber eyes pleading with the bard silently to keep the village attention. They didn’t need a scene, the town loosing too many people to the creature already. He swooped Y/n into a bridal hold, but she started to moan in pain by the hold on her ribs and spine. She tried to arch away, but she couldn’t breath either, not being able to walk.

The woman continued to blink in and out of consciousness, the witcher’s worried voice keeping her earthed. His own pained expression silenced her, her lips sealing so all noises were casted into pained grunts.

“Stay with me, Y/n. Only a few more steps.” Despite her trying to do many things, among them apologizing for ruining his rare moment of joy, she couldn’t stay awake.

//

Jaskier’s voice flew throughout the inn, the melody he sung slipping through the floorboards into their room. Practically the entire village was there, despite everything. The couple had paid in full for the return of their child, the Alderman paying for the trophy of the creature, the innkeeper clearing their tab and the village’s heart once they heard of the whole tale. Y/n had been out cold for a day, and the town wished on every star for her health after finding that she was the one who fought the thing. The couple had brought the child around earlier in the morning for Geralt to see, wanting to see if Y/n had awoken yet. The witcher sat beside her since the healer left, never moving from his chair. His pale hands gently rubbed ointment into Y/n’s stomach as she awoke that night.

Seeing her eyes open to meet his made his mind finally relax. The entire day was spent scolding himself for not seeing the signs. He knew everything about Y/n, trying his hardest to make her happy in anyway he could. The White Wolf never really took to conversations, so he expressed himself by listening, observing and doing. He trusted Y/n to take care of herself, but that didn’t mean that slip ups never happened. Maybe if he noticed sooner. If he had stuck to their routine, checking over her like every other contract, he could have noticed, and they wouldn’t be in this situation. Jaskier had pulled up a chair, sitting and watching next to him the night prior. The bard had also refused to leave or sleep, only getting a wink of rest when he passed out from exhaustion. That too Geralt burdened. The bard took to mending Y/n’s main vest, the claws had punctured holes into it. He had also found water and a sponge for Geralt to wash her shoulders. Jaskier also tried to convince Geralt that it wasn’t just his fault, the bard not noticing or asking either, but the witcher refused.

Geralt would do anything for Y/n, and he put things like checkups in order to keep her healthy. He couldn’t give her things most people want, and nowhere close to what she deserved. But he tried, and this didn’t help show it. He felt as though he failed her, and failed himself. Y/n was his world, and he couldn’t take care of it. If he couldn’t take care of it, he certainly didn’t deserve it.

“I’m sorry, Y/n.” He watched as she slowly blinked, taking in her surroundings. Her eyes flew down to her chest, finding her abdomen and shoulders dusted with ink black, blues and yellows with bruises. She sighed, barely trying to sit up before pain shot through her spine and she settled back down.

“I could have said something.”

“I should have noticed.” She sighed again, her hand landing and stilling one of his that continued its butterfly touches as it rubs in the ointment.

“I would have remained silent again.” His face steeled, leaning in closer as his brows furrowed.

“Why? You were harmed, and I could have helped.” She smiled, eyes closing.

“You looked so happy with that baby. I… I know we can’t have a lot, but you deserve the world. A little joy with the expense of some bruising is worth it.” His hand flipped, snatching hers within his, squeezing.

“You are my world. I should be giving you that joy.” She grunted in annoyance, though her eyes were bright as she opened them again.

“You being happy makesme happy.” He grumbled, clearly defused, but something still bugged him as he went back to rubbing.

“Still, I’m sorry for not asking earlier-.”

“Geralt.”

AN/// I live in a place where it is winter most of the time, and I’m not living my best life with the sun rn. I actually have had heat stroke, so I feel this.

For my pal @theichabbieclub , thanks for requesting!

 Geralt x reader, Best Friend Jaskier

Dresses weren’t really made for the path. Y/n had witnessed Yen, Sabrina and Triss flourish in battle while wearing them, but maybe it was a sorceress thing? It certainly wasn’t Y/n’s. Every day she stuck with a cotton white long sleeve that was much like Jaskier’s chemise minus the lace. A dark purple vest was donned most days due to the padding within it. It wasn’t necessarily armor as there were no metal plates, but it was extra protection. Usually, her vest would be half made up, sleeves rolled to mid forearm, boots laced up to the knees and hair would be down, flowing in the wind.

Today there was no wind. No shade. Nothing to keep the sun’s beating rays from striking her eyes and warring her skin. Sweat prickled her skin hours ago, but her pores still stung during every fresh new wave. At first, the vest had been opened and the sleeves rolled up as far as they went. Her eyes watched in wonder as Geralt sat upon Roach, proud in his full black leather armor. At least the bard had shed his doublet, sharing some of her pain.

The next to go was the top laces of her boots. How were knee high boots practical anyways? Well, Y/n knew why she wore them, and despite the burning in her calves, the reasonings still seemed justified. Yen had an affinity for the style of boot, and while Y/n discarded the heel aspect, she had to admit that it did bring out the shape of her claves nicely. Of course, it wasn’t a competition. Geralt and Y/n had been in a relationship for two years, the witcher making it clear that he couldn’t love her the same way. Sure, a djinn’s magic binds them, but it can’t make them love each other, that was quite impossible. The leather kept in the heat, and the pants tucked in down to the ankle wasn’t helping. The one blessing was that the wetness of the cloth had yet to start squeaking against the leather with every step.

Three hours into the day, and it seemed like they were in the middle of nowhere. They were close enough to the Sand Pit where one side had been scarce fields and the other was desert. At the three and a half mark, Y/n switched spots with Jaskier in their little walking order, and looked up to her lover with pleading eyes.

“Darling?” Geralt’s brow was raised and a smirk accompanied it, trying to convey that the term of endearment was a lame trick to get what she wanted. Though, if the White Wolf was honest with himself, he’d give her the world if she asked. “Can I steal your hair tie? Please?” Golden eyes watch as a bead of sweat trickled down her forehead, barely missing her eye when it passed. The rest of the ties were at the bottom of his pack, and he didn’t want to stop them, trying to get his lover and bard into cooler temperatures as soon as possible. His hand reached up, pulling the small leather tie from his hair. White strands fell, and he shook his head so they would go back into their natural place before placing the band in her now outstretched hand. Both of her brows were at her hairline and a loving, knowing grin was spread. “That was quite dramatic,” referring to his hair flip. “But much appreciated.”

The nonexistent wind on her now bare neck didn’t help at all. There was a decision to be made, and it wasn’t taken lightly. She could feel her shirt sticking to her, the vest being another item keeping heat clinging to her skin. Y/n tried to be as modest around Jaskier as much as possible, and she didn’t know what could be seen through her soaked shirt. But the bard had become a very close friend, and this has become very desperate measures. The vest had been shed, and she was now out of options to shed clothing. There was no shad for miles except for what Geralt and Roach casted, though she had moved into that spot during hour five. How could there not be a settlement or weather shift in five hours?!

Broaching hour seven was where things went south. Y/n had long forgotten the embarrassment of Geralt definitely being able to smell her sweat due to his senses, or how her shirt was completely soaked through. Walking in a straight line hadn’t been a thing for a couple miles, and Y/n started to loudly sing along to Jaskier’s humming. Geralt was like he usually was, checking in on their vitals, but keeping his eyes on the road. Being so close to the Sand Pit gave him anxiety for his companion’s safety, though he knew now that they’d be near a town within the next half hour. It seemed though, that he should have been paying closer attention.

Jaskier had gotten close to the witcher’s side, whispering up to him.

“Is Y/n okay?” Geralt’s brows furrowed and he turned in the saddle. Y/n was a few paces behind them, face aimed at the sky, eyes closed. Her lips were pale, practically white, a clear sign of dehydration. Her shirt was completely soaked through, drops of sweat beading and dropping halfway down her arm. Feet barely lifted off the ground and her humming had become hoarse. Geralt was off Roach and by her side in an instant, and she barely questioned him hoisting her into the saddle. A water skin was quickly shoved into her hand.

“Drink this, you’re going to pass out if you don’t.” Her whole body tilted his way as she gave a tired yet sly look. Her voice was only a quiet mumble.

“Would that really be so bad?” She brought the waterskin to her lips, though after her second gulp, Geralt’s gloved hand gently squeezed her thigh.

“Small sips. Give a minute in between each. Too much water could do you more harm than good.” Her hand came out, and she booped his nose, half delirious.

“Well look at you, my smart, handsome Mountain Man.” The bard snorted, but the witcher ignored it, giving her a loving grin and disbelieving brows.

“Mountain Man?” She hummed in agreement, a curt nod accompanying.

“I like this- this sitting down stuff.” The witcher also hummed, very amused, but worried. Guilt was eating away at him. There were Elven springs he knew of near where they were going, though long abandoned. He had a friend he had asked a while ago to clean it for them, giving the two some time off together. Alone. The nearby town large enough for the bard to make tavern rounds. Once they got to the cool springs, he would try and pamper, well, his version, as a way of apologizing for choosing the faster but more reckless path.

“Y/n,” the bards voice piped up in inquiry. Her whole body shifted, tilting over him now. The water skin was brought up to her lips once more in a quick sip. Jaskier smirked, knowing the opportunity he had. Y/n was very honest, and he knew he could get more out of her in her exhausted state. “What does Geralt reallythink of my singing?” He heard a scoff from the other side of Roach, but only smiled when her honest eyes went wide with joy and a fond smile towards whatever memory came to mind.

“He loves it! Once, you sang ‘Thou Winter Wind’, and he cried-.” Geralt was quick to drop his smile.

“Y/n!”

AN/// I’ve added/changed it a bit. I rewrote it couple times and decided to stick with this, as the others felt rushed to try and get to that specific conclusion in the readers intention at the bridge as it’s very heavy subject matter/ severe actions to take. It’s still very close to exactly what you asked, and I hope you like it all the same.  

This is for my pal @theichabbieclub

Warnings: Mention of Suicide/ At risk, fighting, Self-Battering, Hurt/Comfort

Angst with somewhat fixed ending

Geralt x reader

The day had started out splendidly. Birds had been chirping, clothes had recently been washed, and they hadn’t been near a town to make a fool of herself. When one looked at Geralt, they knew instantly the strength and balance he had. When looking to Jaskier, people could watch as he practically glided wherever he went. Y/n, on the other hand, had been a clutz. Bright eyes and wide smiles were what people first saw when looking to her, but it didn’t take long till they realized how clumsy and awkward she truly was. It was known that when you grow older, your depth perception worsens, but it seemed like it was non-existent to begin with. It wasn’t uncommon for the woman to bring attention off the witcher because she had accidently ruined merchandise of a trader or a garden of a mother.

People would easily look past the witcher to scorn her, Y/n’s only defense being herself and Jaskier. It seemed that Geralt hadn’t really cared whether or not she was punished for actions that were truly accidents. Y/n had only found herself traveling with the men, as she knew Jaskier. Julian was someone she grew up with, being kicked out of the inheritance for insolence and clumsiness. Her family was certain she has been the only noble’s daughter to ever lose a title for not living up to basic noble expectations. Jaskier happily took her under his wing, despite the witcher’s hard denial.

What made the whole thing worse was her idolization for the White Wolf. His heart was massive, and it cared for those who certainly don’t deserve it, on top of the innocents who thought they could never have it. Both were convinced that his attitude was simply tough love. It had taken him years to finally admit that Jaskier was is friend, and they were optimistic that the same would happen with her.

Of course, as the day went on, it became abundantly clear that that hadn’t been the case. The trio had eventually made it to a town with a few contracts. They were pretty miscellaneous, but Geralt had taken them none the less. Jaskier had set up to play at the local tavern and Y/n tagged along. There wasn’t much income to the group that Y/n provided, but she was a hell of a card player. Gwent had taken off throughout the continent, and she easily beat the best player in every town. There had luckily been a few people willing to lose coin, and they set up a small tournament for that night. That was where everything went wrong.

Geralt had arranged to start the contracts at dawn the next day, and Jaskier was playing to his hearts content. Y/n had a large winning streak so far, but it seemed the other players couldn’t believe they were losing. And to a woman no less. A fight had broken out, and Geralt was forced to stop it before Y/n got hurt. The only problem with that was if word got out that dramatized the situation, he might lose the contracts. The trio moved up to their shared room, and it was were the real fight began.

“It was an accident, Geralt.” Jaskier gently set his lute in the case, his voice soft, as if trying to quell a riled animal.

“An accident?” Both the witcher and the woman asked in unison. Golden eyes snapped to hers and a brow flew to his hairline, daring her to explain.

“There was intent, but certainly not mine!” Y/n pleaded. She felt like she was in a time loop, this conversation being hatched over and over again. “It’s not my fault that they couldn’t handle losing.”

“Why were you playing them in the first place?”

“You know that’s how she contributes,” the bard snapped. His arms folded and stepped up to them both, the trio forming an angry triangle in the middle of the room.

“Right, because she can’t do anything else.” The witcher’s eyes widened a tick as he realized he had spoken out loud. He cursed himself as he looked to Y/n. Geralt was opening up after years of coercion from his friendly bard, but it seems it has been working too well. He couldn’t see anything written on her face, but the stench of molding lemons streamed throughout the room, giving away her pain.

“I’m sorry. You’ve said yourself that you can tell a lie. You know that I never mean what happens.” The bard’s hand reaches out to grab her shoulder, but she ducks under his arm, going for the door. “I’m going for a walk. Alone.” She could hear Jaskier start to yell the second she closed the door, but she tuned it out, and started walking.

Geralt hadn’t meant what he said. Of course, he hadn’t meant what he said to the bard n the mountain either. It was something childish and petty that he had thought of simply because he was grumpy. Late morning, no breakfast that he’s grown accustomed to, wet socks and a grumpy Roach made for a bad attitude. Still, he shouldn’t be making excuses, as there was no reason to say it in the first place.

Finding her trail wasn’t hard as the stench lemon wafted through the air, leading him straight to her. What was worrisome was where he found her. There was a high-mounted bridge on the way into town due to the fast ravine that flowed under it. It was too fast and too deep season ‘round for any safe passage through it like many rivers or creeks found throughout the continent. There, sitting on the ledge, was Y/n.

Geralt’s heart sped to the pace of an average humans, and his mind began to race. Renfri started to scream at him, her voice rattling his brain.

“Y/n,” he cooed. He didn’t want to startle; a flinch could be enough to send her slipping without even having a chance to talk it through. He hadn’t even noticed the state she was in until she turned her head, big wet eyes, snot dripping and sobs wracking her whole body. Her shoulders hunched in, and each wave of tears made it harder for her to breath. “Please, listen.” His hand went out, like trying to sooth a frightened doe.

“Wha-?” Y/n couldn’t even finish a word, sobs forcing her to cough. She turned to look back out to the rushing water, stars still being reflected in the small white caps.

“Easy,” was accompanied by a couple steps in her direction. He was only two arm lengths away- too far to try ad snatch her from the air. He heard a scoff, and an arm lifted from the ledge to wipe the back of her hand against her nose. He started to feel his legs go numb, watching one of the limbs keeping her on the bridge being lifted off automatically giving him anxiety. Another small cough came from her when a fresh set of tears arose, the salt breaking out in the air. “Breath. You have to breath.” Her head snapped to him.

“I k-know that,” the lack of air making her lines choppy. It was starting to worry Geralt, as every second her body tried harder and harder to bring air in. He couldn’t do anything to help, however, until her feet were on the ground.

“Right. I was just reminding you.”

“I don’t n-need reminders, Geralt. I k-know you didn’t want me h-here, okay? But I’m n-not useless.”

“I didn’t mean that.” Another scoff could be heard.

“S-sure. You’re right, though. I’m -not made for the path, I guess. I’m n-not good enough for what I was born into either,” her least sentence driving more tears from her eyes. “There’s nothing left for me to do.”

“Sure there is,” his answer ripped through his body, the first word right on the heels of her last. “And you do belong with us.” A dark laugh erupted as she stood and began pacing the ledge. A sharp intake of breath invaded the witcher as she did.

“Oh, really?”

“I fight the monsters, Jaskier plays the music, and you bring the joy.” And he wasn’t lying. Besides the clumsiness, Y/n was full of light. She was like the moon, always reflecting the suns rays onto everyone’s world, even when in darkness. Sure, darkness befalls the moon, but there is always a shred of light within it. Even when Geralt or Jaskier can’t see her, her presence remains in the form of a caring, and loyal friend. If only the wolf knew how to express such thoughts.

“Joy doesn’t get us very far in life.”

“A dumb remark from someone who cares should constitute such drastic actions if a little joy doesn’t go very far.” Y/n stopped in place, a brow flying to her hairline. Her shoulders still shook, and she still couldn’t breathe, but he had her attention.

“What? What action? I c-can walk away if I want.” Now it was Geralt’s turn for confusion.

“Of course you can walk away. I meant,” his still outstretched hand waved in the ledge’s general direction. “Jumping.” She repeated the word, still confused until realization set in.

“You really think I would do that?” It also set in for Geralt. Perhaps she had simply been sitting.

“I didn’t- what if- how could I-?” So many questions brewed in his head, none of them fully making it out past his lips. Y/n gave another dark laugh, and jumped down in front of the witcher, her pointer finger jabbing his chest and her voice turning into a yell.

“A mean comment can’t push me to that, Geralt. I’m stronger than you think. How could I take your comment seriously if you have such a foolish train of thought!” She ran out of air by the end of it, the gasping, the jump and the yelling all being to much for her body. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head, and she fell forward into him. Geralt clutched her tight, quickly wiping her face with his shirt and pushing the hair from it as well. He lifted her as though she were a bride and slowly made his way back to the inn, trying to think of all the ways to make it up to her.

Jaskier x Reader

!SPOILERS FOR SEASON 2!

Words: 540

Summary: As soon as the song hit your ears, your heart broke.

You looked at Yennefer, hearing his voice after so long did something to you.
You thought you were over him, that you moved on, clearly, that wasn’t the case. You still loved him. Even after you broke his heart on that mountain and left with Yen, your feelings for the bard never stopped.

But that song was not about you.

The butcher he kept on singing about wasn’t you. You could only imagine the song he wrote about you. But you could imagine.

Then Yennefer told you to go to him, talk to him, she could wait. And you ran.

You ran up to the bar and found him at a table, sitting alone.

“Jaskier?” you asked with a soft voice.

He recognized you immediately as you saw him freeze in his place and then slowly really slowly he started to turn around and looked at you. He might look different from the last time you have seen him but it was still him, that you could tell.

“Is that’s really you?” he couldn’t believe his own eyes it felt he was imagining things wondered someone was playing some prank on him. They had to. You couldn’t be there.

Not with the way you looked just as beautiful as the day you left him.
You offered him a smile, you were ready for him to yell, to scream at you, call you names and say that he never wants to see you ever again. And you wouldn’t blame him.

But he didn’t.

No.

He ran over to you, his drink long forgotten, he ran to you and hugged you.

“You are as beautiful as the day I lost you.” he said with tears in his eyes, he leaned in to give you a kiss.

A kiss that exploded in your stomach, filled you with a warmth you never thought you would even feel again. A kiss so gentle, as if he was afraid he would lose you if he kissed you too hard.

And yet, here you were, in his arms again.

You forgot the entire world around you, nothing mattered anymore.

And you just knew you would never be able to leave him again. No matter what Yennefer or the world has to say.

The two of you were meant to be.

“I’m so sorry.” is what you said when he pulled away from the kiss. Letting your words and his soak in as you pulled him in for another kiss. And this time it was a lot more desperate than the first.

A kiss shared between two lovers.

And when he pulled back the third time, you looked into his eyes, you knew you broke his heart, you knew you didn’t deserve his forgiveness, but he gave it to you. Jaskier was able to forgive you, seeing it in his eyes, you were glad.

You enjoyed every moment until Yen would decide to come up and you will have to face reality once again. You weren’t sure if you were ready to do that.

And somehow, Yennefer understood. And she waited.

She let the two lovers reunite.

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