#eskel x triss fic

[gil-galadhwen]

The Lady of the Marred Moon [Eskel Fic]

Chapter 9 - Novice

Catrin's training is in full swing and as summer begins to wane, a visitor arrives in Kaer Morhen - an honourary Witcher and to the surprise of the others, an old friend of the novice sorceress.

Read here...

( Dividers by @saradika-graphics )

[antisocialsocialite]

*new 13k witcher fic appears*

jaskier keeps bumping into witchers during his travels. eskel is a hugger, lambert curses, aiden is alive, vesemir is dad. geralt is jealous and whipped. triss is hot and nice and yen is sly and also hot. what more do you want?

ships tagged below

link link link

[witcher-and-his-bard]

Love Letters

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

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

For @jackironsides 💜

My beloved Geralt

Dear Geralt

Geralt, my love

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Geralt,

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

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

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

Until then, I remain yours, as always.

Jaskier.

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

"Yes?" he asks.

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

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

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

Jaskier's heart somersaults.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hi," he says shakily.

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

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

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

"I had hoped to," Geralt says.

"What brings you?" Jaskier asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You- your narrator sounds sad."

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

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

"What's wrong?"

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

"Can I help?"

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

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

"If someone has hurt you-"

"No," Jaskier says quickly.

"You reek of heartache," Geralt says bluntly.

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

"How do you know it is?"

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

"You haven't," Geralt counters.

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

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

Jaskier had considered that option, but it seems unlikely.

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

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

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

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

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

"Jaskier?"

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

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

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

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

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

"I want to hear you say it."

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

"Then how about this?" Geralt says.

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

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

[lovelyrita1967]

Truth or Dare 🍸

“I dare you to…” Triss chewed her lip and peered at Jaskier thoughtfully “...get up on the bar and dance!” She had to shout the dare over the pounding bass line and whooping crowd. 

Jaskier shook his head and laughed. “That’s hardly a dare! I did that last weekend!” 

Sabrina smirked. “It’s true, I was there.” 

Triss laughed. “Fine then… with your shirt off!” 

They were celebrating the end of the term, and somehow a game of Truth or Dare had broken out. Jaskier always had to go first. He sighed. “You just want to ogle me, don’t you, you little minx. Anyway, they’ll kick me out. I know this because I also did that last weekend.” 

“Fine!” Triss looked around the crowded bar until her eyes settled on something behind Jaskier. A mischievous look crossed her features. “I dare you to go over there and hit on one of those witchers.” 

“What?” Sabrina’s face screwed up in a disgusted grimace. “A witcher? Gross.” 

Jaskier’s head whipped around, searching for whoever Triss had been looking at. 

Triss cackled, the effects of their finished bottle of bubbly taking hold. “No, not just hit on! You have to get one of them to kiss you!” 

“Ew, Triss, don’t make him do that,” Sabrina said, still frowning.  

“What’s wrong with witchers?” Jaskier wondered, and then he saw them. 

“They’re not even human! They’re just, like, killing machines. They don’t want anything to do with you, anyway.” 

He barely heard her. There were three of them, leaning against a high table, the crowd giving them a generous buffer of space. Their telltale swords were strapped across their backs, making them instantly recognizable, but even without the swords, Jaskier would have been able to tell. Thick, muscly, scarred, and those cat-like eyes. It was odd to see three of them together, and especially in a place like this. They usually kept to themselves—in, then out, monster safely put down. 

Two of them were facing him, one with black hair, one redheaded, and, quite frankly, he’d be happy to kiss either. The third one had his back to them, but he had long silver hair, half pulled back, and his shoulders were about as wide as Jaskier was tall. 

Then suddenly the third one turned and Jaskier was… well, he was in love. His breath left him in a whoosh as glowing yellow eyes locked onto his. The witcher’s face remained blank, and after a long moment he turned back to his friends. 

“Challenge accepted,” Jaskier wheezed, sucking air back into his lungs. He chugged the rest of his glass of champagne. Sabrina babbled something irrelevant as he stood up and smoothed his hair back. 

He marched over. The other two saw him coming. 

The redhead grinned. “Think you’ve got the wrong table, blue-eyes.” 

Jaskier smiled back, sliding his gaze over to the black-haired witcher, and then landing it on the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. “Oh, this is the right table.” 

“Need help with a monster?” the black-haired one asked, with a deep, scratchy voice. 

“Well, I need help.” Jaskier pointed back at his table. “See, my friend there,” he waved at Triss, who waved back, sheepishly, “has dared me to come over here and kiss one of you.” 

The first two chuckled, but the silver-haired one’s jaw tightened before he spoke. “We’re not here to be a box on your checklist.” Jaskier felt the rumble of his voice deep inside. “Fuck off.” 

“Ah, give him a break, Geralt,” the redhead cackled. “Like you don’t love the attention.” 

“Geralt, is it?” Jaskier stuck out his hand. “Jaskier.” 

Geralt stared at him, unmoving. 

“Eskel,” offered the black-haired one, kindly reaching for Jaskier’s dangling hand. “This is Lambert.” He shook both hands but turned nervously back to Geralt. 

“I’m very sorry,” Jaskier faltered. “I didn’t mean to treat you like a box on a checklist—” 

“Hmm,” Geralt grumbled at him. “And yet, you did.” 

“He’s just having fun, Geralt.” Eskel rolled his eyes and turned to Jaskier. “Sorry about him. He’s mad at the world. But I guarantee he thinks you’re cute.” 

Geralt narrowed his eyes at Eskel while Lambert laughed again. Then he looked back at Jaskier. 

Jaskier’s insides turned to jelly. But not in an “Oh, shit” sort of way. Jaskier knew he should be afraid with two hundred fifty pounds of trained killer glowering at him, but instead he was just… enraptured. 

“Alright, then. If you’re sorry…” Geralt nodded his head in the direction of the bar “...let’s see you hop up on that counter and dance.” 

“You want me to—” Jaskier paused, confused. 

Eskel covered a snicker with his hand. Lambert threw back his head and laughed. 

The corner of Geralt’s mouth lifted up. “Shirtless.” 

There was a glimmer of amusement in those glowing eyes. A tingle swept over Jaskier. He peeled his shirt off without a second thought and pressed it against Geralt’s chest. “Hold this.” 

He turned and marched towards the bar, giving Triss and Sabrina a wave. The bartender’s eyes were already narrowing at him as he approached. He hopped up on the sticky counter—despite a few yelps of protest from the patrons—and turned to see the witchers watching him. The quirk of Geralt’s lips had grown into a tiny grin. 

The bartender grabbed his ankle. 

Worth it. 

@oxbridge-quality-fanfiction-co @lottelorelei @chaotic-bard @fangirleaconmigo

[hidden-misthios]

Luxury to Fall in Love

Pairing: Netflix!Lambert x female!reader

Warnings: Blood, angst, major character death.

A/n: I haven't written anything in AGES and I'm nervous to post this but since @sweetdulcets got me back into writing and gave me so much support, I had to post it! English is not my first language so excuse any mistakes you find along the way.

Also Im aware that I changed stuff a bit - bruxa's are born, not made. But for this fic's sake, lets pretend they are!

 Word count: 4 725

                                                  *******************

 "Cheers! To saving your ass two years ago. "

Y/N immediately lowers her glass.

"Lambert!"

"Well, it's true, lass." he grins and raises his glass even more, waiting for Y/N to raise hers as well.

Y/N slowly lifts her glass and clears her throat.

"To two-year friendship." she announces, giving him a soft smile.

"And may we have two more." Lambert adds and purses his mouth in a self-satisfied smirk. Small, red lock of hair fell at front of his face and he quickly moved it to a side.

"You're an asshole, you know that?" Y/N said, clinking her glass to his. "Can't even remember why I let you in my house in the first place." she said then took a small sip of Sansretour chardonnay, the wine that Lambert brought with him. He would always get something for her from his trips: parchment paper, seashells, forest fruits and herbs, sometimes even a gemstones or medicine – depending on success of his quest and time of the year. But he would never show up empty-handed. At first Y/N would try to give him some money (it wasn't much but Y/N offered anyway) but he would always refuse.

"Because I saved your ass from those nasty Foglers? You should be grateful, lass." he grinned and took a sip as well.

"That you did. And you know I am." Y/N admits, with more serious tone this time. He chuckled and lowered his glass on the blanket. The wind calmed down and the sun began to set. The Nimnar river in front of them flowed quietly, bringing calming and fresh air into their noses.

Y/N loved living in Gelibol. Owning her own place at the end of the village and selling herbs was good life. She earned enough to provide herself a peaceful life. She would spend a lot of time in forest, in fresh air and silence. Until the day when Foglers attacked her. It was a broad daylight; the forest was silent and Y/N was collecting some mushrooms when small group of Foglers came out of nowhere and started chasing Y/N. Lambert was passing by the main road when he heard the screams and cries for help.

Y/N paid him, gave up her own bed for him that night and made him the best dinner she could.

"Does every bypasser receive this treatment? Maybe I'll pass this road more often." he said that night at her cottage.

Something clicked between the two that evening – they stayed up late, sharing stories and making each other laugh. Lambert could swear he made her blush a couple of times. Y/N felt like she reconnected with an old friend although she never met this man in her life before that day. They said their goodbyes the next morning and Y/ N watched him leave, thinking how it wasn't fair of fate to bring him to her, just to take him away the next day.

But three months later there he was at her door again. She didn't hesitate but jumped towards him and hugged him as tightly as she could. Red Wolf was startled but wrapped his arms around her and whispered It's good to see you too.

So, their friendship grew stronger and stronger. She never knew when Lambert is going to come to Gelibol but she knew he would. And every time he came, her heart grew three sizes.

"Hello, miss? You there?" he waved his hand in front of her face. Y/N shook her head and looked at him.

"S-sorry I was just thinking about something." she admitted and took another sip of Sansretour. Lambert chuckled.

"I got that. What's bothering you, love?"

Y/N nervously twisted crescent moon necklace that was hanging around her neck. Lambert got it for her, for the first anniversary of their friendship and she was wearing it every day ever since.

"Nothing it's just... I was thinking of all these times you came to visit me." Y/N admitted but then lowered her eyes. She felt stupid now when those words left her mouth. She noticed that Lambert wasn't...well, interested. He cared about her. Y/N was sure of that. But it felt like he kept her at distance. She understood why – witchers couldn't allow themselves to settle down. He was a man of road, not of one village. And Y/N didn't judge him for it. But it didn't stop her from liking him.

"Yes, this village of yours has its charms, but I don't understand what's keeping you here, darling. It's small, you know everyone and everyone knows you. It's too-"

"Normal for you?" Y/N interrupted him. Lambert chuckled, looking at the distance. The sun was down and the moon replaced it, starting to show its craters a bit by bit.

"Well, yes. But honestly now, Y/N, what's keeping you here? You're a curious person. You like to explore, to discover. You could earn money everywhere by selling herbs."

"I-it's complicated." she started but stopped. It wasn't complicated. Y/N knew that she didn't have chance of surviving the wild, hungry Continent by herself. She wanted to explore the world, but fears were stronger than wishes.

"What is?"

"Lambert, I'm not a witcher. I can't fight. I'm not a sorceress either. I have no Chaos to rely on. Woman with no fighting skill can't survive on the road. Especially the one who's alone."

Lambert put down the glass, still looking at the distance. He was quiet for a few seconds and then turned to Y/N, to face her.

"And what if she's not alone?"

Y/N's lips parted. She didn't expect him to say that. She expected him to made fun of her, to mock her for being scared, to ask her why she's so pessimistic – but this? She didn't expect this.

"W-what do you mean?" she asked quietly.

"You could find someone. Why didn't you?" he asked. Y/N let out a quiet sigh.

"Because I'd rather be alone than with someone who's not right for me." she said, looking him straight into his yellow eyes. He looked away first.

"I guess you're right." he said and few seconds later stood up on his feet. "Come on, love. It's time to go inside. Or maybe you'd like to hang out with Foglers tonight?" he asked while holding out his hand for her. Y/N grabbed it and stood up on her feet.

"I already have monster by my side, I'm good." she joked. Lambert rolled his eyes, suddenly grabbed Y/N and tossed her over his shoulder. Y/N screamed but started laughing and holding her hands tightly around his upper body.

"You really talk too much for someone who lives alone in middle of nowhere, granny." he said, walking towards Y/N's cottage. She chuckled. Lambert opened the doors of her small cottage and headed towards Y/N's bed.

"And you're way too-"

Y/N didn't have time to finish. Lambert threw her down on her bed and Y/N screamed again.

"You're an asshole!"

"And you are a nasty screamer." he said, proudly smirking.

 Morning came and Lambert was ready to start his journey. Kear Morhen was almost a whole day ride from Gelibol and he didn't want to waste a whole day horse-riding. Y/N helped him prepare and packed him more food than he actually needed but Lambert gave up on convincing her he won't need that much. He secured the last bag to his horse and slowly approached Y/N who was standing at the front door.

"So, this is it, love. All ready for the road." he said. Y/N smiled softly, but he saw the sadness in her eyes. It was always there when they said their goodbyes, Lambert recognised it.

"Safe travel, Red Wolf." she said, laying her hand on his chest to touch a wolf medallion. He lowered his eyes on her hands then slowly pulled her closer, cupping her face. He lowered his head and kissed her forehead.

"Be good, darling. And be careful." he said. Y/N only slightly nodded, with a gentle smile over her lips. Lambert let go of her, and headed to his horse.

He waved to her as he was speeding up the horse, not knowing this was the last time he will see Y/N.

 Only a month later, Lambert came back to Gelibol. The whole village was surprisingly quiet but Lambert didn't mind it because although he was a frequent visitor some folks would still give him the dirty looks as he was passing by. He scolded himself for speeding up his horse as soon as he saw the road that led to Y/N's cottage but held that speed anyway until he reached the small house. It was dark and late, so when he didn't see lights inside, he didn't think much of it. Maybe she's already asleep. He dismounted his horse and approached the door. Then he abruptly stops.

The door. It was broken down. He instinctively grabbed the silver sword from his backs. He focused his hearing. Nothing.

"Y/N?" he called cautiously.

Silence.

Lambert knew she wasn't there. He couldn't hear her heartbeat. Or any heartbeat for that matter. But he stepped inside anyway.

His medallion gently trembled at the sight of magic in the air. Lambert tightened the grip of his sword. Cottage was a complete mess. Beds were pulled around and pushed up against the wall, herbs were everywhere, food was on the floor, rotten. Something horrible happened here.

He was about to turn over the piece of parchment paper when he heard it.

Wings. Large ones.

He turned around and ran outside without hesitation.

Then he saw her.

A bruxa.

Gray, broad-winged bruxa. Just a few meters away from him.

"Fuck." he muttered, lifting his sword up, ready to cast a Quen Sign.

But then something odd happened. Bruxa didn't attack. She looked at him for a couple of seconds, with her wide, white, hungry eyes and opened month full of sharp teeth and then, suddenly, she fully transforms into a bat form and flies away. Lambert still didn't lower his sword. Maybe that was bruxa's way of messing with him. She seemed hungry for blood for sure. He couldn't relax just yet.

Not when Y/N wasn't safe.

He kept his guard up, watching the dark sky every now and then but bruxa was gone. Why did she let me go that easily? Did she already get Y/N?

He rarely felt helpless. It wasn't a pleasant feeling and usually, he would fight it of quickly, but now, he couldn't. Not when Y/N was not next to him.

He collected himself and took a big breath. He couldn't smell any human smell. Just bruxa that just took off, some flowers near the river bank and herbs from Y/N's small garden.

This didn't happen today. The smell vanished weeks ago.

Lambert frowned and looked around. He didn't have a trace to follow. It could take days before he finds something to track her down. He cursed and turned to his horse and jumped up in the saddle.

He needed the help of his brothers.

 Lambert looked like a mess. And felt like one too. He rode back to Kear Morhen, explained to other witchers what happened and managed to get some of them to join him. Now, he was back to Gelibol, in less than 24 hours. His horse was on the verge of collapsing. Lambert knew he wasn't supposed to do that. But he had no choice. He had to find her.

"Where do you want us to begin our search and rescue?" Eskel asked with arms crossed on his chests. He looked around, scamming the village in the distance.

"Lambert...where are the villagers?" Geralt asked quietly, looking at rooftops. Lambert looked at them as well. No smoke from the chimneys. Lambert frowned but stayed quiet.

"Did that damn bruxa massacred the whole village?" Eskel asked, nervously looking around.

"I don't know. Could be. Not many people leave their houses to greet me when I walk by." he said, not trying to show how badly he was hoping that those people were still alive and not bruxa's weekly meal.

"Boys!" the sound from behind the cottage called for them.

Eskel, Geralt and Lambert immediately turn around and follow the voice.  It was Vesemir. He was standing just a few meters away from the river. He turned around.

"Does this look familiar, boy?" he faced Lambert and lift his hand. The crescent moon necklace. Lambert cursed quietly.

"Yes. It's Y/N's."

Vesemir sighed and dropped the necklace in Lambert's hand. Lambert holds it, clenching it like his life depends on it.

"The smell is weak but we got something."

 Few hours later they got to the dead end. The trace ended deep into the forest, just in front of the small cave. Cave was empty, cold and full of plumards so they left as soon as they finished their search, not wanting to test their luck with encountering powerful vampires.

"So, this was a waste of time." Eskel said, while they were returning to the village.

Lambert ran at him, pushing him against the nearest tree.

"You, shithead, how-"

Geralt and Vesemir grabbed him, pulling him away from shocked Eskel.

"Lambert, calm down. You're tired, worried and exhausted. He didn't mean anything bad." Geralt said, facing him and making sure he catches the look in his weary eyes.

"For fuck's sake, just leave me be. I'll find her myself." Lambert pulled away, but Geralt didn't give up just yet.

"Listen. We will find her. Vesemir, Eskel and me. You will rest now."

"Like fuck I am, Geralt. Move."

But neither him or Geralt had time to even make a step. The whole world spun before his eyes and then suddenly everything went black.

 When he woke up, Lambert immediately knew what had happened. His own brothers used Sign on him. He rubbed his face and scanned the space around him. This can't be.

He stood up as quickly as his legs let him.

He was back at Kear Morhen. Why did they give up?

Lambert left the room and ran to the main hall. The hall was full of witchers who spoke and ate but as soon as the first one noticed him, the whole hall went dead silent.

"Where is she? Why am I here?" Lambert yells and his voice echoes through the hall. Vesemir stood up first.

"Come, boy."

 Kear Morhen wasn't as big as it seemed at first. Lambert knew every room and every corridor but when Vesemir took him downstairs to dungeons, he couldn't help but wonder why are they there.

"Why are we here, Vesemir? Stop wasting my goddamn time! Why did you use Sign on me?" he asked nervously. Vesemir lifted one finger to silence him and continued quietly walking next to him . Lambert was beyond angry at this point.

He was just about to protest again when Vesemir stopped in front of the small cell at the end of the corridor. It was dark but Vesemir didn't bother with lighting any torches. Instead, he turned to Lambert, with mixed look of sadness and seriousness.

"She's here, Lambert. Whatever you do, do not open the cell. It's protected with magic, too."

"What-"

" I'll leave you two alone now. " Vesemir said and gently touched his shoulder before leaving. Lambert was stunned. What a hell is happening? Why am I not allowed in?

He waited until Vesemir left the corridor and then slowly approached the cell. He touched the cold metal of cell doors. His medallion trembles.

"Y/N?"

Nothing. Silence. But as soon as he looked at the farthest corner of the room, he saw something. Or someone.

Its darker than hell here.

Lambert used Igni Sign on the closest torch and the whole room brightens immediately.

And then he sees her. He gasps, moving a step away from the cell.

"This can't be happening." he shakes his head.

The same bruxa that attacked him was in front of him. Face turned, dressed in a simple white underdress. But now, seeing her in 'human' form he immediately knew.

It was Y/N.

He grabs the bars and shakes them violently.

"Y/N! No!" he shouts, his voice cracking. Her head slowly turns and finally she faces him.

"Lambert." she finally speaks, her voice slick and soft, but with no emotions in it.

"What happened to you?!" he yells, shaking the bars again. She didn't seem upset. She didn't seem like she feels anything at all.

"I thought you witchers would recognize a bruxa when seeing one." she said, not showing any emotions in her voice again. Lambert swallowed hard.

"Y-you can't be a bruxa. This doesn't happen-"

"But it did, Lambert. As you can see." she interrupted him and turned her face again towards the wall. Lambert's legs betrayed him. He fell down on his knees, holding onto the bars.

"This can't be happening. Not to you." he says quietly. Strange sound, similar to ironic laughter, leaves Y/N's lips.

Lambert looks at her. His heart drops when she looks directly at him.

"So, when are you going to kill me?" she asks him. The question is hanging in the air. Lambert feels like it's not meant for him. And like the question wasn't about the woman he adored with his whole heart.

He looks at her and slowly stands on his feet again. His lips part but nothing comes out.

And then he storms outside.

 "How the fuck is this possible?!" he yells, opening the doors of the main hall. They hit the wall behind it and crack in one place.

Geralt, Eskel and Vesemir are the only ones looking at him. The rest of his brothers do not dare to look up.

"We...we don't know, Lambert." Vesemir starts.

"But she doesn't want to tell, either. She barely said a word after we caught her." Geralt adds.

Lambert leans against the table and punches it with his fists. Eskel slowly approaches him from the side.

"Lambert, she slaughtered the whole village. They were all dead, in their houses." he says quietly.

Lambert doesn't look at him. He knew Eskel wouldn't lie. But that just didn't seem like an actual truth. It couldn't be. Y/N helped her whole village. She was well known and loved there. She loved living there. She couldn't hurt any of them.

"Lambert-"

"I heard you!" he yells and then finally faces Eskel. Eskel gently touches his shoulder, forcing Lambert to look at him.

"You know what we must do now." he finally says. Lambert stands still and stops breathing.

"Is this why you captured her?! Just so I could kill her here!?" he yells, completely aware of his voice breaking.

"Lambert, she's a bruxa!" Vesemir raises his voice a little. The old witcher steps closer to Lambert and crosses his arms on chests.

"I KNOW!" he yells and rubs his face, pacing around. He takes a deep breath and turns to Vesemir again.

"I know." he repeats, this time quietly. "But I'm not letting you kill her. Not before we try other options. If this is some kind of a curse-"

"It's not a curse." the female voice from other side of the room interrupts him. Lambert turns around.

"Merigold." he says quietly. Young redheaded sorceress was leaning against the pillar, with her hands crossed on her chest.

"It's no curse, Lambert. She was bitten. I don't know how or why she survived that transformation, but she did. And she's not the person you once knew." Triss explains.

"She knows who I am." Lambert frowns.

"She does, but she doesn't care for you. She sees every single person in this room as a feeding source. Yourself included."

"I refuse to believe that." Lambert says, but not completely honest. He knew very well how bruxa's mind worked. If they let humans live, it was because they had use of them. If they didn't, that human would be long dead. Just like residents of Gelibol.

"You believe what you want." Vesemir adds. "But she is dangerous, Lambert. You know that. And she...she has to go."

Lambert looks away, not wanting to catch anyone's look.

"Give me a day." he asks quietly. Silence of the room was tiring. Vesemir spoke first.

"I can't. Triss' magic that's surrounding the cell will be gone by midnight. You have until then."

Lambert's heart drops but he nods after a couple of seconds of hesitation. He turns around and leaves the room, heading to the dungeons again.

 "Back already? I thought you won't show up until tomorrow. Maybe with an extra silver sword too." Y/N says, her voice flat. She was facing the wall of her cell. Lambert sits down on the floor in front of the cell.

"You know I won't be the one to kill you." he tells her. Small smile escapes her pale lips but she's still not looking at him.

"Aren't you merciful." she says quietly.

Lambert slams his fits against the bars, partly standing up on his knees. "Look at me!" he yells. Bruxa slowly turns her head, her white eyes staring into Lambert's.

"I know you're not the person you used to be. But I refuse to believe you don't acknowledge how I cared for you or how close we were." he said his voice trembling of agitation.

"I do remember. But since I'm going to die, it does not matter." she shrugged her shoulders and finally gets up from the cold floor. Lambert's throat tightened when she approached the bars.

"It matters to me. I didn't want this for you." he answers, still looking at her vampiric white eyes.

Suddenly Y/N hisses at him, grabbing the bars. She immediately regrets it. Bars burn her hands and she shrieks in pain, letting go of it. Lambert looks away, knowing that magic was source of her pain. He couldn't do anything about it, even if he wanted to. Triss' magic was supposed to keep her in and he agreed on that.

"Fuck, Lambert. Suddenly, you're full of concern and love for me! You didn't care as much when I was just a pathetic human. You feel regret, not a sympathy for me. Because, if you did, we wouldn't be here right now!" she yells, showing her vampire teeth.

"You know that's not the truth-"

"Oh, spare me your pity speech, witcher!" she interrupts him, rolling her eyes. "If you cared, you would take me with you when we had that talk about leaving my village. You knew I'd come with you. I was in love with you, for fuck' sake." she yells, throwing her hands around in the air with annoyance. Lambert lips part but he stays quiet, frozen in place.

"Oh, did that come out of nowhere for you? Because it's not new for me, for sure. It's been months. Hell, it's been years."

Lambert knew he had to say something but this all felt too much for someone who's emotions were modified by elixirs.

"I-I think I knew that." he says quietly, aware how unsure he sounded. But the moment the words left his lips he knew they were truth.

"And you did nothing about it. So, what's the point of you being here now?" Y/N asks, leaning her backs against the wall. "To torture me? To ask me for forgiveness because now it's too late to discuss those things? I don't know what you want from me, Lambert." she says, her voice suddenly filled with tiredness. This was the first time she sounded like her old self. Lambert exhaled, looking down. He had to tell her the truth. She deserved it, no matter how late it was for it to matter.

"I just...I think you deserve to know the reason for my behaviour." he finally spoke. Y/N waited.

"You mattered to me, Y/N. The more I wanted you to matter to me. It's just...I thought if I kept my distance, you'd be safe. I couldn't give you the life you deserve. I had to do what I was made to do. And that's why I couldn't give you anything. "

"You gave me hope." she says, but aware it wasn't entirely his fault, but hers as well. "You came whenever you could. You visited me even when you didn't have a work to handle around. So, excuse me for feeling like I mattered. Or that you felt the same." Y/N adds.

"Witchers don't have the luxury to fall in love." he says quietly, trying to catch her look. And he finally did with those words.

"But?"

"I did."

"But too late." she says, tilting her head to a side a little. He looks away.

"Too late." he confirms. She looks at him for couple of seconds, like she's trying to read his mind.

"So, again, what do you want now, Lambert." Y/N asks quietly.

"I don't know." he admits after a few seconds of complete silence. Small smile escapes her lips. It was a sad smile, he knew that. Lambert realizes she finally let down her guard now. If it wasn't for her new vampiric appearance, he would think he was talking to old Y/N.

"I want you to forgive me." Lambert suddenly says. Y/N lifts her head a bit.

"For?"

"For being too late. To save you from the bruxa that did this to you. For not realising sooner that you deserve to be loved no matter how difficult it was for me to do it. For not showing how I felt before it was too late. I know it doesn't change anything, but I had to tell you."

Her eyes were just looking at him for a couple of seconds and then she lowers her look to the ground. "You're forgiven. witcher. Now, let me die. And never think of me again." she turns her back on him and walks to the darkest part of the cell, letting him know she doesn't plan on speaking to him again. This was it.

 Lambert was outside, watching the snow on mountain tops surrounding Kear Morhen. The moon was full and bright. This was a first time he regretted being at home.

Suddenly a short scream comes from the inside of castle. Lambert runs inside, trying to figure out the direction of the noise.

The dungeons. He runs faster, feeling the heart dropping to his stomach.

He rushes into a corridor that led to Y/N's cell. There she was, laying down on the corridor floor, barely conscious. Vesemir was standing above her. His hand was holding silver sword, soaked in blood. Y/N's blood.

As soon as he realized Lambert was standing there, he withdrew.

"You shouldn't be here." Vesemir tells him. Lambert ignores him, slowly approaching to the half-dead being laying on the floor. She was dying, peacefully and calmly.

"Why is she so still?" he asks, without looking up at Vesemir.

"Triss gave her a sedative. She's completely calm and doesn't feel any pain."

Lambert crouches down next to her and grabs the cold hand that was laying down on her stomach. It was so cold.

"Thank you." he says, his throat tight. If she had to go, Lambert was glad it was this way. Vesemir gently squeezes his shoulder and starts walking towards the stairs.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N." Lambert whispers, tightening the grip on her hand. Y/N looks at him, briefly aware of his presence for a moment.

"Lambert." she barely whispers. Then, her eyes went completely still.  

"I'll never forget you, love." he whispers and slowly leans over her, cupping her face with his shaky hand. His lips gently touch hers, and for a split of a second, she responds to his kiss. Her lips were ice cold, but Lambert doesn't flinch. It lasts for barely a second but his heart starts to beat faster.

Y/N's hand gently squeezes his for a second and then she's still again. This time for the last time.

She was gone.

Lambert closes his eyes, letting out a quiet sob.

[sometimesiwrite]

Geralt Fics.

*With Us- Essi/Lambert; Essi & Geralt; Essi & Eskel; Lambert/Geralt/Eskel; OT3+1; Modern dance club AU; Lambert’s partners help him make a few realizations about his good friend, Essi.

More Than A Little Sacrifice- Essi Daven/Geralt; re-imagining of “A Little Sacrifice” from The Sword of Destiny; fragile, tender, a little wump, Essi-centric, headcanons galore!

Sick of This- Geralt &Triss; Geralt/Yennefer; modern AU; Geralt wump

Find A Little Happiness- Geralt/Shani; short, sweet, light angst at the end

Listen- Geralt/Jaskier; Three times Geralt gives Jaskier a second chance and one time he doesn't; trope-response fic.

[corvo-bianco-lilacs]

You guys definitely need more Witcher Family adorableness, and it shows.

Enjoy!

P.S: I wasn’t expecting it to be this long, but, well, things happened XD

Time to ignore canon again!

@tibo30, @witcherislovewitcherislife, @witchaddiction, @ciri-yen-iris, @enid--an-gleanna

Ciri stretched out beneath the large oak tree that overlooked Corvo Bianco, her back pressed to the trunk as she gazed out over the landscape beyond the estate. Since she’d moved in with Geralt and Yennefer, she felt as if her life had finally settled, and she didn’t feel the desire to travel through time as much as she had before. She was with her family, and all she wanted was to be with them, especially after having spent so many years running away in order to protect them.

She glanced down and saw Geralt and Yen step out of the front door, hand-in-hand, with smiles on their faces. Their content expressions, and the love that they shared between them, brought a smile to Ciri’s own lips, and she stood to make her way down to Yennefer’s bench to join them. As she approached, their smiles grew wider.

“Good morning, my darling.” Yen spoke, still shaking off the sleep that lingered in her eyes. Ciri settled in beside her, curling up against her side as Yen wrapped her arms around her.

“How long have you been awake?” Geralt questioned, brushing her hair back from her forehead. “I didn’t even hear you come downstairs.”

“Not too long... Probably an hour at best.” Ciri replied, smiling at him as he brushed his thumb across her cheek. “Do you have anything planned for today?”

“Not that I’m aware of. Unless you’ve got something planned, Geralt?” Yen asked, gazing over to him with an arched brow.

“Not for this morning. However, I do have something planned for this afternoon, and I was hoping that you would both join me.” He replied, glancing between his girls.

“Such as?” Ciri questioned with a laugh, knowing how poorly Geralt kept secrets.

“You’ll have to wait and see, little wolf.” He laughed. Ciri nudged him with her foot, earning another chuckle from him in response. “How about we train for a bit, then we can get ready for our trip to the city.”

Ciri agreed, and the two of them spent the morning training together in the grass near Yen, while she looked on as they went blade-to-blade with each other. Before the sun could reach its height, Geralt called off their sparring and told the girls to get ready, and that they would be leaving within the hour. Ciri and Yen immediately linked arms and made their way into the house with Geralt following behind, a smile graced his lips as he watched how happy Yen and Ciri were together.

Knowing that they were going to Beauclair, the girls dressed in some of their finest clothes. Yen wore a form-fitting white blouse with a V-shape cut down the middle that stopped at the bottom of her ribs, with a black skirt and boots to complete the look. She had tied her hair up in a loose ponytail, allowing a few strands to fall and frame her face. Ciri opted to wear a simple white tunic and a pair of black trousers, leaving her hair up in a bun, and completing the look with her black riding boots. Geralt wasn’t even surprised to see that Ciri had picked up Yen’s color coordination, but he smiled nonetheless.

They gathered their horses and rode into the city, where Geralt led them through the maze of streets until he came to a stop in front of an unmarked door. Ciri and Yen stopped behind him, confusion clear on their faces, and watched him as he opened the door. He motioned for them to go inside, and with caution, they did. Stepping into the darkness, Geralt closed the door and came in behind them. They heard him snap his fingers, and the room came to life with candlelight.

“Surprise!!” Voices called out from around the building.

The room was suddenly filled with all of their friends and comrades.

Dandelion and Priscilla had travelled down from Novigrad together. Annarietta and Olgeird stood side-by-side, smiles on their faces, with Syanna coming in right after them. Regis stepped into the room, followed by Detlaff, who had made peace with Annarietta, and Tomira, both of whom had come in from White Orchard. Cahir, Milva, and Angloume walked into the room, all of them embracing Yen and Ciri into a huge hug, then clapping Geralt on the shoulders as they greeted him. Eskel, Lambert and Vesemir came in from a side room, and the girls could only assume that they had been discussing the repairs that were needed at Kaer Morhen. Phil and Sheala stepped in next, hand-in-hand, with smiles on their faces, greeting everyone before they sat on the couch together. Keira walked in and greeted everyone, then took a seat beside Lambert, who immediately pulled her onto his lap, earning laughter from the sorceress. Triss came in next, her smile meeting her cornflower blue eyes as she greeted Yen and Ciri, enveloping both in a hug, said hello to Geralt, then sat beside Eskel, who promptly wrapped his arm around her waist. Frangilla and Ida joined the group then, stepping in from outside, as they were running a bit late to the occasion. They made their greetings and joined Sheala and Phil on the couch. Francesca came by then, with Iorveth at her side. Both of them greeted their respective individuals, then sat together at the bar that had been set up in the corner. Roche and Ves came in after, greeting Geralt with open arms, extending their well-wishes to Yen and Ciri, and then making their way into a corner to chat. Shani stepped out of the back with a smile on her face, surprising all members involved, as she was supposed to be out on the lines as a field nurse. Seeing her there warmed the hearts of all three family members as they hugged her. Sabrina and Assire were the last of the Lodge members to arrive, and both gathered each of the girls in their arms to hug them, having not seen either of them since the death of Foltest.

The biggest surprise to the girls came when they were asked to sit at the table as Geralt walked through another door, most likely leading to the kitchen. Yen and Ciri watched with confusion, up until he returned with a large smile on his face. Yen and Ciri were quizzical of his expression, until Margarita and Tissaia stepped out behind him, with Tissaia carrying a large cake in her hands.

She placed the cake down on the table between the girls, then gathered each of them in her arms, hugging them tightly, with Rita joining her soon after. Yen and Ciri looked around at the gathered guests, tears in their eyes and smiles on their faces. Yen turned her attention to Geralt then.

“Darling, what’s going on?” She questioned, though the smile on her face was large and genuine.

“It’s Belleteyn, love.” He looked between the two of them, his smile mirroring theirs. “Happy Birthday, girls.”

[gil-galadhwen]

The Lady Of The Marred Moon [An Eskel Fic]

Chapter 8 - Night Terrors

Five days after her injury, Catrin is starting to get bored up in her tower all alone, so she asks Geralt if she can share a room with someone downstairs. Luckily for her, Lambert is heading out on a contract so there's a free bed in the room he shares with Eskel…

Read here....

( Dividers by @saradika-graphics )

[jaskierswolf]

🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 Darling!  

How dare you write something so perfect?! 

I LOVE IT! 💖💖💖💖💖

Ger-Bear!! 💖 Can I perhaps request some Trisskel with flower crowns? Maybe Triss info dumps about the plants and the best ones to make flower crowns with, and Eskel is all 😍? Thanks love!

My dearest of soulmates, you may request anything you want from me.

I’ve written this for the bingo square “flower crowns” for the @sugar-and-spice-witcher-bingo

Prompt: Flower crowns

Title: A Glade of Flowers

Relationships: Triss/Eskel

Rating: G

Content Warning: Simply fluff

Summary: Eskel knows that Triss would delight in the field of flowers behind Kaer Morhen, Triss knows Eskel would look lovely in a flower crown.

-

The sun was shining brightly around them as Triss watched Eskel move deftly through the grassy meadow he had led them to. She had been pleased when the witcher had asked her to join him on a walk, the two had been growing closer during the long winter they had shared at Kaer Morhen. Spring was swiftly approaching, though, and Triss was loathing the idea of her and Eskel’s parting.

“It’s so beautiful up here,” she said softly, letting her eyes rove over the horizon, “it’s truly a view like none other.” This high up in the mountains it seemed as though, if you focused just enough, you would be able to see the whole of the continent.

“It’s certainly the most beautiful view I’ve ever seen,” Eskel responded. Triss turned to look back at him, catching him staring at her. A blush spread across her cheeks, dusting a light pink underneath her freckles.

Eskel walked forward, reaching up to tug delicately at one of her brown curls, “I’ve travelled the continent more times than I can count and I’ve never encountered a view quite so mesmerizing.”

Triss ducked her head bashfully, “Didn’t you say you had something to show me?”

Eskel grinned, his face lighting up, “Indeed I do! Follow me.” He grabbed her hand, lacing their fingers together, and tugged her forward at a brisk pace, the skirt of her dress flapping around her.

They were approaching a dense line of trees, the start of the forest that surrounded Kaer Morhen. Eskel smiled back at her over his shoulder as he pulled her through the line of trees. Darkness engulfed them quickly but it was only a few moments before the trees began to thin and light began to seep through again. It wasn’t much longer before they stepped out of the trees altogether and into a small forest glade, filled with freshly blooming flowers.

Eskel let go of Triss’ hand as she stepped forward into the sea of hellebore and celandine poppies, “This is the first place on the mountain that flowers start to bloom.”

The break in the trees let the sun shine onto the glade and Triss shivered as it warmed her skin, “Eskel this is beautiful”. And it was, almost as if somewhere straight out of a painting, the small sunlit area surrounded by trees, filled with beautiful white and yellow blossoms.

Triss felt warmth press up against her back as Eskel’s arms wrapped around her, “I’m glad you like it.”

“I really do. In fact, I have the perfect idea.” Triss spun in Eskel’s arms, smirking up at him mischievously, “I think you would look lovely in a flower crown.”

“Ahh, I don’t-”

“Come on!” Triss pulled away from Eskel’s embrace and sat down in the middle of the glade, beckoning him to join her.

Eskel sat beside her, looking nervous.

Triss laughed at the expression on his face, “Oh, calm down, the flowers won’t hurt you.”

“I know that, I use them in potions.” Eskel responded gruffly, sounding embarrassed.

“Then you should already know how to work with them, here hold these two like this,” Triss moved his hands, positioning the flower stems, “and start weaving them like this.”

The two worked quietly, Triss helping Eskel weave new stems into the ones already there as she worked on her own. It wasn’t long before they both had finished and Triss happily placed hers atop her head. Eskel was still holding his delicately, as if he were afraid he would crush it.

“Here, let me,” Triss took the crown from him and sat it upon his head, tracing down the scarred side of his face, before settling her hand on his chest, “Just as I suspected, you look very handsome.”

“You should join me.”

Triss cocked her head to the side, “Join you?”

“This year. On my travels. I mean, you don’t have to. Or maybe just a visit? I just… would like to see you before next winter.” Eskel’s speech was nervous, rushed.

Triss smiled, “I would be honored to travel with you. I do have some obligations, but nothing that will keep me long.”

“Oh. That sounds nice.”

Triss had never seen such a bashful look on the witcher’s face and couldn’t help but reach up, placing her hand on his cheek. Staring into his eyes, she knew the next year would be wonderful.

[imnotwolverine]

Signs

Geralt of Rivia x reader (smutty fic)

Word count: 2.371

Disclaimer: Witcher signs and some kind of smut

Author’s note: I’ve been reading a bunch of snippets from Andrzej Sapkowski’s Witcher books and one of them described a meeting between Eskel and Triss. Triss was taken aback when he touched her, because his Witcher skin triggered “pleasant, but piercing vibrations”. WELP. I don’t know about you, but; count me horny, girls.

Go to Signs part 2 or read Signs part 3

--

Simmering eyes. That’s how you’d describe them.

Throughout the night they had made sure to land at least a dozen times on your form as you drank and danced with your fellow townsfolk, the beast now defeated and your lives saved. But it had not been a knight in shining armour that had fended off the beast. No. It had been him, a weary man in tattered boiled leather armour, his face studious and ..simmering.

It fascinated you.

Between the dances you’d steal glances at the peculiar stranger, the flames of a fire that roared in the middle of the square dancing over his face as his large hand thumbed over his cup of mead. With those peculiar eyes he watched some flirty wenches, their giggles bouncing off the buildings that surrounded the square, some young men trying to steal their attention for the night. But, what these wenches seemed to forget was that there was probably only one who could TRULY show them a good night.

Him.

That is..if the stories were true. Weren’t Witchers known for their outstanding stamina..and..eh..*aherm*.. virility?

The very idea of what could be hiding beneath that worn leather armour made your legs tingle and cheeks grow hot, the song you were dancing to ending and your partner thankfully not noticing the sudden heat that crossed your face. ‘Thank you.’ You mumbled at him before turning on your heel, wishing to step out to refresh yourself but finding yet another suitor before you.

Him.

Like in a blur he offered you a gracious greeting bow, white hair slipping over his wide shoulders before he rose to full height again, his frame towering a good foot above you. There was not really a question in whether or not you’d accept this dance, his feet already stepping closer, pushing you back into the dancing circle as a new tune was struck.

He hadn’t danced with anyone else yet, so you couldn’t help but feel both confused and flattered at once, more heat rising to your cheeks as you finally managed to take a good close look at the Witcher. And dare you say..he was a rather pleasant specimen to look at. High cheekbones, strong jawline. And those eyes. Those eyes!

‘I was about to cool down for a bit.’ You smiled sheepishly, receiving a wolfish grin from him. ‘Well I am just warming up.’

His voice was deep and honey, rumbling through his chest like a summer thunder. Delightfully so. You couldn’t help but become putty before he even inched close enough to start the dance, the rest of the crowd already twirling and laughing around you. It was as if the late summer air had grown more thick and the fires burned more brightly when the White wolf raised his arms in a dancing stance, your arms quick to follow suit and interlace fingers with his. And how. You weren’t sure if it was the mead in your blood or the heat of his touch, but like little sparkles, a strong force emitted from his being. It buzzed from his skin.

Like magic.

Then again. Witchers did indeed use some type of magic. So perhaps..just maybe..maybe he..You looked back up in his eyes, mirth shining there as he gripped you more tightly, an arm sneaking around your lower back before pulling you incredibly close. You didn’t know this man’s name. Where he was from. Or if he even WAS a man to begin with. But here you were. Noses nearly touching, eyes melting into one another as his feet started manoeuvring you with effortless grace through the crowd.

He hadn’t looked like much of a dancer, but apparently he was one for pleasant surprises. Light feet did not once mislead, even now you could feel the heat and alcohol happily buzzing through your foggy brain. It was like you were floating, the thick crowd around you forgotten as you looked up, studying the Witcher. His countenance seemed far less reserved now you were so close to him. In fact, he seemed to have fun. A sparkle hid in the severity of his tight jaw, focused eyes, fingers tracing some deliberate circles over your back as you moved.

‘What is it you see?’ He grumbled again, eyes flicking back to meet yours, sending with it yet another shivery tremble through your nervous thighs. Oh, what was it with this man that made you so weak at the knees? Quickly recomposing yourself you laughed, the sound tinkling above the joyous banter of the crowd. ‘Oh Witcher. I guess I.. see you.’ You winked and leaned a little more into the arm he kept snuggly held around your back, trusting him to support you.

‘You are not afraid.’ He stated, as if nearly surprised, golden eyes studying you as you looked ahead to see where you were going - he was steering you to the outer ring of the dancing crowd, where the couples danced more slowly. Less erratically. But thereby offering opportunity to talk. And be more acutely aware of those sparks that seemed to dance on the Witcher’s skin.

A strange feeling indeed.

‘Curious, mostly.’ You smiled.

‘About what?’

‘You.’ You said, shrugging nonchalantly. Was that the alcohol talking? You were glad that you were old enough to have built a life of your own, your parents never having to hear about this..whorish..act on your behalf. Dance with a monster? Speak the tongues of seduction? Were you insane?!

‘And why is that?’ He enjoyed it.

Another jolt washed through you. Was he..was he doing that on purpose? You eyed where your hands were connected, his grip tight and warm around your proffered palm. You couldn’t see anything, but..

*spark*

HE WAS DOING IT AGAIN.

‘Ho-how..?’ You breathed, blinking as you obviously felt something. Not only in your hand. Also..*aherm*..eh..down between your thighs. The Witcher laughed, hands pulling you even closer, nose now brushing close to the shell of your ear. ‘I can smell you.’ He whispered huskily, the timber of his voice making yet another shiver run over your skin.

Alright, whether or not you were a whore. He was intriguing. You had to give him that. And the alcohol in your veins was definitely not helping, your lips curling up, all on their own accord. ‘Hahah..and what is it you are smelling good lord?’ - ‘Hmm. I’m afraid I am no lord, milady.’

‘Well I am not a “milady”, sir.’

‘And I am no “sir” either…wren.’

‘Wren?’ You shook your head in amusement. ‘I am no bird..wolf. You see, I cannot fly.’ You managed to escape his arms, fluttering your arms playfully at your sides as you slipped into the more wildly dancing inner circle, leaving the Witcher behind. The Witcher’s grin grew, nose sniffing the air to follow your scent.

‘I’ll make you.’

—

You knew he was not far behind. With fast feet you sped through the crowd, moving closer and closer to the fire that centred the village square. The heat was blazing here, making the dancing sweat on your muscles loosen again, small droplets gathering in the back of your neck. Looking around carefully you couldn’t see him. All you saw was a few hundred people minding their own business; drinking, dancing, making merry. And quite naughtily so. Your eye fell on a pair that was no longer moving in the crowd, feet halted and hands tugging at half-undone clothes, fingers roaming where they probably shouldn’t in public. The woman’s stays were leaving little to the imagination, her voluptuous chest near spilling out as the man duck down to lick the deep crevice between.

‘You fly not far.’ Him again, dark voice humming in your ear. You jolted up, wishing to flee again, but this time there was no room, no way, the fire blocking one side and his large chest the other. ‘I told you I can’t…-’ You turned to protest, but lost your train of thought as he pressed his nose back up against yours, nudging it. He was so close and the fire was so hot in your spine that you could literally feel yourself melt, feet not managing to get away even if you wanted to.

The wolfish grin returned and with half an eye the Witcher also peered at the naughty couple a few meters ahead, their tongues now dancing. You couldn’t help but steal the moment yourself to just stare at him, the close flames now brightening up his whole face until no hair or scar could be missed. He WAS handsome to a fault. Even the small scar just above his eyebrow seemed to only enhance his looks, those simmering honeyed eyes now turning back to you as his thumb brushed up over your cheek, feeling the slight stick of sweat there before he gripped your jaw.

His fingertips sparked again with that energy, that magic, a cold shiver running down your spine despite the heat of fire and flesh around you. It awoke that barely cooled down slick between your thighs, your legs awkwardly wishing to squeeze and rub together to alleviate the frustration that was steadily building there. And the Witcher..he didn’t seem to miss your condition, lips tugging up in a smile as he leaned even closer, lips now nearly touching yours, fingers cupped your face in two large hands, tipping your head back for easy access.

And you allowed it. Whore! Whore!

‘Little wren.’ The Witcher broke through your thoughts, fang-like teeth appearing behind his silky lips. His smile was strange. But you couldn’t care, your eyes already lost in those burning orbs of gold. This man could do anything with you as he seemed fit, that much was clear as you didn’t protest one bit, body mush beneath his tingling fingertips.

*SPARK*

You gasped as that same energy surged more strongly through his finger pads, shooting straight down your spine and out your nerve endings. Making that coil inside your stomach twist and twirl.

His smile grew.

Slowly one of his hands dipped lower, travelling a slow and tantalising path down your neck, thumb finding the top of your stays, just hidden beneath your simple blue cotton dress. More sparks buzzed as four more fingers joined his thumb, a full hand now placed on your bosom, your breath choking in its confines. ‘Please.’ You begged - though you were not sure what for, his lips still awfully close to yours. He did, however. A silent gasp glued to your lips as he dipped down, lips brushing over the corner of your mouth, placing a gentle kiss there. The combination of wild electricity, a two-day old beard and soft plushy lips was almost worth flying for. Almost.

With trembling legs you quivered beneath his touch, the hand that had rested on your bosom quick to swoop around your lower back again, pressing you impossible close as his lips nibbled on, finding the line of your jaw, cheekbone, his breath hot on your already heated skin. Even his lips seemed to elicit power. Small, but piercing little vibrations running through your nerve endings at every brush of his silky touch.

Again, it felt like you were floating, though this time the dance was different. It was..not dancing at all. Was this flying, then? Your legs could no longer stand as your eyes rolled closed, body giving in to the pleasure that sparked in your loins. How could he do that without even touching you down there? Lolling your head back for a moment his lips took the opportunity to travel down your neck, nipping and nudging you further to the frayed edge of reason. But you needed more before you could truly fall - or fly. Opening your eyes you were met with those simmering yellow orbs again, his lips and hands not hesitating to give you what you needed. It was like he could read your mind, the hand on your lower back travelling lower, pressing your hip into the curve of his arousal, hot and throbbing beneath his breeches.

And sending off an energy that broke your lips apart again.

‘Oh my..’ You breathed, your parted lips an invitation he couldn’t refuse, his kiss now finally placed where it was needed. Sweet, honey..sparkles, his tongue brushing hot and velvety inside, sending more energy through your limp limbs until all you could do was give in. Give in to his hard softness. His sweet tanginess. His..Wait, tanginess? Blood? You only noticed now that he had bit down on your lip, tongue soothing back over the small nip. But could you care? Not as of right now. With a groaning moan you bit back, his upper lip caught between your teeth as the hand on your bum now rubbed you more fiercely against his clothed erection, the many layers between you only causing more friction. More…

ARGH

It was like there were a hundred hands caressing your skin, tingling and tickling and loving and..OH SWEET MERCY! His lips retook the reigns, forcing your lips apart again as his tongue delved deeper into you, sending with it the last of HIS mercy, your whole body now convulsing in his tight grip.

Flying.

It took a good long moment to realise that the dance had ended and people were changing partners again, making it a perfect moment to escape. But it wouldn’t be alone. Your legs wobbled dangerously - as if drunk - the Witcher now leading you back to the outer edge of the square, his arm strong as steel around your trembling physique. Once you were back in the calm, he turned, thumb brushing over your swollen lips, finding a little blood there. ‘Ai. A wounded bird.’ He studied the small gash that he had made in your lip, but all you could do was smile, the spark of his touch numbing all pain.

‘Better kiss me to make it better.’

‘Hmm.’ He smiled, then slowly shook his head once. ‘No.’

‘No?’ You felt hurt by his sudden refusal. Was he just going to discard you after..after…?!

‘I know something else to do. But not here…’ He leaned in closer, nose sniffing in your scent - and your arousal - again.

‘..little wren.’

--

Go to Signs part 2 >

--

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Smutty squad: @cavillryarchive @wem412 @damnitasshole @consumedbyreading

[j-pankratz]

Move Like Grey Skies

Trissbert! For real! Inspired by the Febuwhump prompt Shrapnel.

Lambert is hit with shrapnel from a blast. The ever-suffering Triss runs over to help. It's, maybe a little worse than she was expecting, and sometimes getting caught up in the moment means owning up to your inconvenient affections.

1883 words. Can also be read here on ao3! Rated T for canon-typical violence and discussions of pain/blood/wounds.

Other tags include: Two Curly Hair Fools In Love, Lambert is SOFT looking at Triss, this is a very simple fic of laying on the ground and being tended to that is all!!!

x

It hadn’t been smart to leap into the fray like Lambert had. Luckily, he never claimed to be smart.

The blast that had gone off near him had knocked him off his feet by the sheer force of it, and only after he’d hit the ground had he felt the brutally sharp stabs of pain leftover from the shrapnel. Rocks, maybe shale, could be thorns, hell, could be broken knives and metalware, he didn’t know. He was littered with them though, all down his right side, from the chest down. Well— he brought a hand up to feel along his clavicle, then face— maybe he’d gotten a few nicks higher as well.

He’d been knocked to the ground for a few seconds before he even registered what had happened. Which was saying something, given he was a Witcher— maybe one of the pieces had nicked something important, or maybe his head had hit the ground harder than he’d realized. For a moment, everything sounded muted, distant, but slowly the sounds of battle raged on— screaming and the sound of chaos ripping the ground asunder filled his ears. The ground rumbled with footfall and blasts; the grass was still dewy beneath him, and growing damper— oh. Well, that would be his blood, wouldn’t it? His ears rang and each wound made itself known with jolts of pain searing through him. His back reflexively arched a bit in an effort to escape the pain as he screamed, to of course no avail. He squeezed his eyes tight, tried to gather himself enough to rise, when he heard a familiar voice rise above the din.

“Lambert?!”

He opened his eyes, met with the small remnants of the clear blue sky clouded with smoke, shots of magic, and arrows, and he smiled. Atta mage. Wouldn’t be long now.

“Idiot,” Triss hissed as she slid to the ground beside him, ducking to avoid an arrow. She threw up a small protection charm to shield them, and began shifting Lambert around, looking for wounds. “Look what you get yourself into.”

“No sympathy for the fallen? I’m out here busting my ass!”

“Lambert, Eskel’s goat has more tactical intelligence that to just jump into a battle without proper protections.”

“You’re full of shit.”

“And you’re full of shrapnel.”

He huffed a laugh. “Got me there, Merigold.”

She rolled her eyes but it wasn’t long before her brows creased in concentration, in… something else, as she scanned his chest, assessing his wounds. If Lambert wasn’t mistaken, that was concern on her face, and maybe pain. Was she wounded? Was she tending to him before herself? Triss was smart, sure, but she was also one hell of a martyr sometimes. In all the years of knowing her, he hadn’t known her to give attention to things not worth her time, unless she needed a distraction. Unless it was—

“What, you worried about me?” he tried to joke. Her expression didn't waver from a steady frown.

“Quiet, I have to focus.”

She moved what little armor he had on to the side, moved his shirt and ran lithe fingers up and down his side. He hissed in pain a moment as she touched a particularly shredded spot, and she quickly moved on, whispering an apology. Lambert shook his head frowned, going to clear his throat but it came out as a sputtering cough— he could taste blood.

“Shhh,” Triss was saying; “Stop fighting it, just stay awake long enough for me to do this, come on Lambert—”

“Merigold,” he interrupted. He was surprised to find she looked to him immediately, searching his face in a panic. Triss was wound tight, sure, but this wasn’t normal for her at all. In fact, her face was flushed and her eyes were shining. It was just wrong. Lambert looked at her questioningly, he could feel his eyes widen to take her in and he reached up to touch her face with the back of his hand. Her skin was soft, dirty from the debris of battle but still so sort, so warm. The warmth was probably the blood pumping from all her adrenaline but— whatever. “Merigold. Are you alright?”

She opened her mouth to respond, but seemed not to be able to find the words.

“Triss?”

“I— you’re— I’m fine, Lambert, you’re the one who’s—”

“In fine hands.”

He let his hand fall from her cheek only to be caught by hers, fingers tangling in a desperate squeeze. This close, he could feel the speed of her heart like a butterfly’s wing, rapid and fluttery and mesmerizing all at once.

“I can heal you, but it’s going to take time, and we’re out here exposed.”

“You’ve got the… thing up. We’re fine,” Lambert said, but in sending the protective dome a glance he saw how much it wavered. “I’ll be fine. Witcher healing, yeah?”

“We don’t have time for witcher healing, Lambert! Just— I’m fine. Let me do this.”

“Okay,” he surrendered. Must be the knock he’d had on his head, or the blood loss, or something. Triss let his hand go gently and Lambert could feel his face pinched as he gazed at her, working. Behind them, the last of the blue in the sky had faded, turning everything grey, clouds and smoke swaying with the chaos flying. But hovering above him and lit from behind by the echo of sun and from zips of magic flying, her buoyant curls turned into a halo. Her gentle eyes were focused and sharp, and he followed their movements, the way they danced, wanting to move with them.

Triss gave the protective charm another wave and it refortified before turning back to his wounds and whispering charms over him. Slowly, one by one, the bits of shrapnel were worked out of his body. He bit back groans and yelps, until finally it seemed all of them were out, and all that was left was to close the wounds.

Healing, major healing that was done fast at least, was never painless.

“FUCK! You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you. Getting back at me.”

“I wouldn’t— “

“I know, I know.” He hissed in pain once again, and it ended in a drawn-out whimper Lambert was very much not proud to have emitted.

“I’m here, you can do this, come on now,” Triss muttered. “Hang in there Lambert, this’ll be enough to get you through. I’m cutting corners, I’ll need to see to these later, but it should hold up. You’ll have to come back to me in one piece though.”

“Jus’ making excuses to see me.”

Triss didn’t respond, but Lambert felt the last of the bleeding wounds seal up, took a stuttering breath as he felt new, tight skin expand. She leaned in close, cupping Lambert’s cheek. He could feel his own unnaturally slow heartbeat quicken a pace and her sweet breath against his lips. “Don’t die,” she said, simple but forceful.

“No promises,” he tried to snark back. It didn’t have the bite in it he’d meant it to have, though. It felt small. It felt honest. His eyes darted back and forth, taking all of her in as she blocked out the world around them. She huffed a frustrated breath and cupped his other cheek.

If you asked him later, Lambert would swear he knew it was coming. He’d say that actually, it’s what he’d been gunning for the whole time, that he’d been setting up for it, maybe he’d even say that he was the one who’d leaned in in the first place, that he’d captured her lips and brought her down to meet him.

This is how it actually happens:

Triss rubs blood, sweat, and dirt off his cheek bones with her thumbs, her hands softly cupping his cheeks. Her eyes search his face, which looks both as it always does, gruff and the echo of all he’d seen, but also new in this position. His eyes wide, searching, his hair splayed beneath him, something earnest and almost delicate, apprehensive in the curve of his brow. She can’t help but notice how open his expression is, how often his eyes dart to her lips. In all this chaos, in all this hell, she had been pushing back her inconvenient attraction to Lambert as far as she could. Her hands had begun to shake when she’d seen him littered with shrapnel, and all she could think now, holding his face, was how she might not ever be able to do this again. And what did she have to lose really? Only him, only every chance she had with him. Flirtations were fun because they could be something more, and if she died, if he died, if everything could end here and now and she didn’t take this moment—

“Fuck it,” she breathed, and leaned in, kissing him soundly.

Lambert’s eyes remained open in shock. Triss’ lips slid against his, and it only took a moment of that soft, simple warmth before his eyes shut tight and a hand flew up to cradle the back of her head, thick fingers running through her hair. He pressed her close, or meant to, but she was already pressing against him, slipping her tongue in. The one thing Lambert would not lie about, if you asked him about the kiss, is that never in a million years did he expect they’d know each other’s bodies so well, so fast. They moved like they’d been kissing for years, like every jab they’d thrown at each other was simply an effort to see how the other’s mouth would twist and turn so they could study it.

It was frighteningly natural and completely overpowering. And as suddenly as Triss had started the kiss she broke it, tearing away. They both gasped for breath.

“Stay. Alive.” She said more firmly this time.

“Will there be more of that? I’ll stay alive for more of that.” She did not look amused. Lambert played with the handful of her hair he still had as he slowly withdrew it. “Your wish is my command, Merigold.”

“Good.” She drew back, and brushed off some of her dress, began to gather herself up to stand. Lambert propped himself on one elbow, watched her move, couldn’t help be pulled in by her current and began to get up himself. But she was only an arm’s length away, and he might now have another chance.

“Merigold. Triss,” he said, a hand coming to her shoulder. The protective ward around them rippled as it sustained another hit— they didn’t have long before they’d have no choice but to bolt. Triss met his gaze, and before she could ask, he said, “Stay alive. Please.”

She blinked, and then smiled. And wasn’t that a relief to see in all of this. “Only because you asked nicely.”

Lambert gave a squeeze of her shoulder— he was never going to live down having said please to Triss fucking Merigold, but it would be worth it. The protective charm wobbled again— it was time to move. He moved behind her, an effort to shield her small frame with his bulk.

“Now?”

Triss nodded. “On my count. Three, two, one—” she dropped the protective charm and they ran, moving in tandem, side by side beneath the grey skies.

[roughentumble]

and like i would, in the fix-it fic, definitely have vesemir say no to the recipe for More Witchers, because of a chain reaction thing where geralt saves eskel this time around which totally changes vesemir's mental state and allows him to go into it clear-headed. but ALSO i legit could just.... not have elder blood be a component. triss was thinking about it and with her knowledge of rare plants, she's pretty sure [x] special plant is the missing key, and no one tuought about it because [blah blah i'd come up with a serviceable reason].

like i just dont like that elder blood(or flowers grown from it, or any lore like that) is a component 😭 like part of the worry with someone else getting the recipe is their ability not just to know witcher secrets, but also REPLICATE them. and elder blood isnt replicatable!!! you cant just go and get some.

idk where the original Sorcerers Of Witcher Creation would get elder blood either, btw. so.

[corvo-bianco-lilacs]

Because I am trash and didn't finish my last batch of prompts, pre-smut, enjoy another pregnancy fluff fic focused on Eskel and Triss!

------------------------------------

Eskel glanced over Triss' belly with a child's admiration, his eyes glistening with joy as he felt the faintest movement or a small kick come from their child. He looked up to Triss, their eyes connecting, with a smile on his face.

"It's still so... surreal." He whispered, his hands on either side of her belly. "I never would have thought that... We could even create a child together."

"Eskel, there are many things that we can do now that we couldn't before." Triss replied, placing her hands over his. "A sorceress having a child is no longer unheard of."

"But a Witcher having a child..."

"Also no longer unheard of. Geralt and Yenna have two beautiful children together. Keira and Lambert even have a son together, though he's only a few days old." She smiled down at him. "Progress, my love... Magic can do so many things now that we're only now discovering."

Eskel nodded his head, both wanting to avoid an argument with Triss but also wanting to devote more attention to their child as they stretched and kicked against the barrier that was Triss' stomach.

"Easy in there, little one." Eskel chuckled, rubbing a small circle against Triss' belly. "Be nice to your mother."

Triss laughed then, joy illuminating her face as she looked between Eskel and her belly. She brought her left hand up to cup his cheek.

"Love, I'm sure it's getting quite cramped in there... We're only a few weeks away from my due date, so I can imagine that they're becoming restless." Triss chuckled, placing her hand back over his.

"I guess, but doesn't it hurt?"

"Sometimes it does... But then I remind myself that, with each kick and stretch, we're that much closer to holding them in our arms, and it makes the whole process worth it."

Eskel turned his gaze back to Triss, a new admiration building for her as he took in her words and fully processed them. He could honestly say that he'd never been so in love with someone in his long life, but here was Triss shattering the walls that had long formed around his heart post-mutations.

"I love you." He finally whispered, his eyes focused on her gently moving belly.

"I love you too, my darling."

He leaned over her belly and captured her lips in a tender kiss, his hands still pressed to either side of her bump as he say back down on the bed in front of her, his attention now returned to her stomach as he watched the little life, the life that they had created together, move and shift about within.

[eskel-loves-lilbleater]

Chapters: 8/8 Fandom: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Eskel/Jaskier | Dandelion Characters: Eskel (The Witcher), Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Triss Merigold, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Lambert (The Witcher), Aiden (The Witcher), Coën (The Witcher), Vesemir (The Witcher), Original Characters Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Witcher Jaskier | Dandelion, Human Eskel, Friends to Lovers, Pining, Falling In Love, Monsters, Canon-Typical Violence, Whump, Smut, Minor Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Minor Aiden/Lambert, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Rimming, Blow Jobs, Major Character Injury, Huddling For Warmth Summary:

Someone clears their throat and Eskel swivels his head to find a witcher leaning against the wall of the barn, holding the reins of a little bay gelding and watching Eskel with an amused expression. Eskel’s mouth goes dry.

“I hear you have a griffin problem,” the witcher says. “But I see you have more fearsome beasts to contend with.”

Lil Bleater bleats her agreement.

When Eskel, a goat farmer living in Velen, puts out a contract for a witcher to deal with the griffin terrorizing his livestock, he’s not expecting Jaskier, a pretty witcher with mismatched eyes who likes to sing. When he takes the contract, Jaskier isn’t expecting the reclusive farmer who hires him to be a kind man who talks to his goats and is willing to let Jaskier stay the night. Neither of them expect the other to become a friend, and maybe something more.

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Fic Rec: Really beautifully written role reversal Jaskier X Eskel. And Lil Bleater is a gorgeous menace. Sweet and heartbreaking. 💜

[gil-galadhwen]

Lady Of The Marred Moon [An Eskel Fic]

Chapter 6 - Fiend

Catrin's time in Kaer Morhen has finally begun, and while she's hurt from what she heard Eskel say about her the night before, perhaps they're already on their way to making amends...

Read here...

<Dividers by @saradika-graphics>

[vulturhythm]

hello again

here i am, with yet another apology for being so inactive. this pandemic has gotten far too close for comfort, so it’s been difficult for me to find the time to write between packing to head home and trying to deal with my family. thank you all so, so much with your patience and continued support - it truly means the world to me.

that being said, i want to give you a look at my hopeful schedule for the next week or so...

the third and final installment of the blue waters verse / mermaid fic

an alpha / beta / omega fic for my darling skyleen

an eskel x jaskier fic for the newly-engaged amelia and evelyn

as for other plans, things i definitely intend to write include...

some sort of smut + angst + happy ending fic

filavandrel x jaskier x geralt

geralt x jaskier x eskel x lambert

valdo x jaskier x geralt

and, as i’ve mentioned before... there’s a triss x renfri x yennefer fic in the works, although i’m unsure if i’ll post it or not. let me know if you guys would want to read it!

i love you all, and hope you’re staying safe. if you ever need to talk, message me - i don’t bite!