#ot3: witcher sandwich | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gerlat-apreciation · 5 years ago

Text

Vampiric Protectors Part 1

Ciri, Geralt, and Avallac’h are travelling worlds and about to go home, when Ciri, low on energy and distracted, teleports all three of them to a separate place. Geralt finds himself in a world seemingly like his own, but Regis and Dettlaff are younger, and one is much much more drunk.

This was beta-read by @oversharingskeptic !! Thank you hun for the help!

Also!! I’d like to thank @witcher-not-quitter , @gridelincarver , and @sosaisdming for helping with the idea!

———————————————————————-

Geralt gripped onto Ciri’s hand, their fingers intertwining. Ciri and Avallac’h’s harsh breaths ringing out from the poisonous gas that filled their lungs. Geralt, was unaffected. Witchers could hold their breath much longer than any human or elf ever could. Speaking of elves, the witcher's eyes met the sage’s from behind Ciri’s back, grey meeting brilliant gold, They both immediately glared at each other, Geralt taking the time to bare his sharpened teeth, the elf returned it, albeit with much blunter teeth. Geralt stifled a laugh.

“Are you two ready?” Ciri breathed, looking at them, who suddenly had innocent looks on their faces. Ciri huffed in disappointment, and Geralt suddenly felt guilty, but, taking one last look at the stunning but brutal world around him, he nodded, a soft grunt in his throat to speak for him, his throat felt raspier than usual. He waved it off to the gas, and let the feeling of his daughter moving worlds overcome him.

Time itself seemed to slow, which gave the witcher enough time to be overcome with a feeling. Pride. Pride for his daughter, who had come so far from the little girl running the halls of Kaer Morhen, following around Eskel, or Vesemir like a baby duckling, chirping for stories, or someone to play with her. Geralt had to admit to himself, she was very good at emotional blackmail. He was proud of that too, just like Lambert.. he couldn’t say no to the tiny thing, clinging to his thigh and giving him the dreaded puppy eyes. If Geralt could shiver he would, those puppy eyes forced him into an odd tea party here and there, and now he permanently holds a teacup with a pinky out. No matter how much his brothers told him his courtly manners would be godlike, he didn’t agree.

He was brought back to himself by the sharp sting of hitting the ground, on his back. He opened his eyes and was met with the bright sun, he groaned. What the hell, he thought, a scowl forming on his face. Slowly, he sat up, taking in his surroundings slowly, letting it sink in. During their travels with Ciri, they got separated often, but quickly came back together. But earlier, Geralt reminded himself that Ciri told them both her energy was going low, and that this teleport would be the one that would take them home.

So he was stuck here for a little bit, okay. That was fine. As Geralt drew into a stand, he groaned once more, hands going over his head and curling his back. A simple stretch that popped his back in the same go. Afterwards, Geralt adjusted his many belts, potions, and bombs, then sniffed the air, once, twice, thrice. Soon after the smell of civilization filled his nose, mostly cow and pig shit, but the faint tones of human sweat. There was something about it that made it significantly human. Probably the large amounts of salt? There was something about it that smelled like a bad mix of salt and onion, where and why they ate that much salt Geralt didn’t know, neither did he know about the onion thing. He’d have to ask Regis if he ever got the chance again. Not that he would, or could, Regis was in Nilfgaard, after he hunted down Dettlaff.

Geralt sighed once again, brooding at the loss of his trusty companion, who was always by his side. Sadly Ciri couldn’t teleport him, Avallac’h, herself, and Roach travelling different worlds, but it would have been nice to be able to ride his mare the long distance to the village. But without his trusted companion and confidant, he would have to walk, and of course, Geralt being himself, would complain the entire way there. What was stopping him? Gaunter?

Geralt held back another laugh, he wouldn’t be bothering anybody anytime soon.

So he turned his attention back to following the scent of humans, brooding and complaining the entire way there, in his head of course. Vesemir would have his ass if he found out he complained in view of random people.

“You can’t possibly be asking that much for a zeugel!!”

The human male gasped. He was reaching his fortieth winter, with two healthy girls who currently had their heads pressed to the bedroom door, watching them argue. Geralt resisted the urge to eat him instead of a turkey from a nearby inn. Of course that was a joke, he wouldn’t leave the girls without a parent. So, Geralt just sighed in reply.

“150?” He offered. Eyebrows pinching in suppressed anger, he could feel his mutations working overtime to pull back the surprisingly powerful urge to punch this man. But, as if Gaunter himself, the man of mirrors, dickhead extreme, pressed a gentle kiss to his left ass, because the man instantly nodded, and relief flooded each man.

Maybe Gaunter was back..

Nah.

Geralt grunted in agreement, and turned on his heel, slamming the door shut as soon as he exited, and made his way to the location provided, a sewer entrance a little out of town, which flowed into a river that curled around a mountain that the little village was nestled in. It was..quaint..the white haired witcher kneeled in front of the entrance, taking his silver sword and a sharpening stone, raking it quickly against the sides, not enough to chip or damage, the smooth movements calming the swordsman.

Soon after he stands once more, downing a blizzard and a wraith decoction, just to be safe. Geralt was experienced, yes, but even master witchers had trouble with grown zeugls. As the potions slipped down his throat, he shivered, the tingling sensation of his quickened movements caused him to move with an inhuman swiftness, more so than he already did. With grace, he stepped into the sewer tunnel and directly into the flowing water of it. The wolf had no time for disgust, he had a job to do. Walking down the tunnel once more whilst trying to push out every thought of how disgusting it is, he came into a larger room with thick brick walls, and while the entrance was now far far back, he could still see enough to not have to down a cat. Piles and piles of trash, knick knacks, and whatchamacallits that even a blacksmith had no name for, he sniffed the air. Of course the first thing that he smelled was the invasive and frankly rude scent of the piss and shit of the larger (and wealthier) civilization down the road. Of course they built through the mountain, and allowed the probably humongous zeugl to be the villagers problem. This was another of the many reasons on Geralt’s list that he didn’t like nobles in the slightest. But, under all the stench he smelled rotting flesh and the unique rancid stench of a zeugl.

Now that he knew where it was, he started looking closely. He was most likely sharing a room with the thing.

With a little bit of help from his nose, he found a tentacle resting on the edge of the side path. As the Witcher stepped towards it to cut it off and initiate the fight, the floor suddenly cracked, and broke.

He was falling.

And falling.

And now he hit the ground, sword tightly gripped in his palm.

There were many many hisses, hisses of Arachas in fact. Fuck.

Geralt sprang up, inhumanly fast and cast a stream of ingi, momentarily lighting the five Arachas (five Arachas too many) on fire. Geralt then, in a smooth movement, flittered to one and started cutting. 1,2,5. Twirling around and snapping his wrist left and right in the move affectionately named ‘Whirl’ by Vesemir. Very soon after the Arachas was very dead, and he moved onto the next one, the others were still on fire. Repeating the move on the second Arachas, they were quickly downed as well. The shrieks of death and the ones on fire filling his ears like daggers.

Not soon after, he had three of them on both his left, right, and front. Geralt in response lurched to the side to get the one on the left, only for the ones on the middle and right to attack him from behind. He growled, rolling away from the three quickly.

There was another, fourth hiss. One of a venomous Arachas. Geralt’s heart was too busy pounding in his ears for him to be able to tell where it was coming from. Grabbing a dancing star from his hip, he slung it in an arcing motion, the Arachas in turn light right back on fire.

But, while attacking, he, in a rookie move, forgot about the very venomous and very dangerous Arachas behind him, and he felt a bite in his thigh and venom filling his muscles. Vision dizzying, he stumbled, gasping and growling desperately to stay awake. But the world was swimming, Geralt couldn’t keep his balance and his vision was going dark. In the commotion Geralt’s sword slipped from his hand causing the Witcher to panic, he keened, and then everything went black. The last thing the Witcher saw was a figure surrounded by smoke lurching at the Arachas from the shadows, claws extended and teeth bared as smoke twisted around their form.

#emiel regis #the witcher #the witcher 3 #witcher3 #geralt of rivia #dettlaff van der eretein #dettlaff #regis #ot3: witcher sandwich #dettlaff/geralt #regis/geralt/dettlaff #regis/geralt #young regis #young dettlaff #emiel regis rohellec terzieff godefroy #regis’ shit friends #regis makes geralt need life alert #flustered dumbasses

37 notes · View notes

witcher-not-quitter · 4 years ago

Conversation

Geralt: In my defense, I was left unsupervised

Regis: Wasn’t Dettlaff with you?

Dettlaff: In my defense, I was also left unsupervised

#Witcher sandwich #the sandwich OT3 #retirement at Corvo Bianco has never been dull with these three #Now what did those two do??

85 notes · View notes

limerental · 5 years ago

Text

limerental’s witcher fic masterlist

all of this can be found on my ao3 of the same name but is sometimes nice to have a list on tumblr as well I suppose

yennskier & ot3 fic

the poet’s wish - yennefer/jaskier - 100k, canon divergent, slow burn enemies to lovers mutual pining

The one where Jaskier has a near-death experience, makes a wish, and inexplicably has a lot of amazing but ill-advised sex in a crumbling manor house with a sexy but insane sorceress. And then, keeps on having it. It's almost as if the universe is drawing them ceaselessly back together or something. Which would all be very romantic if not for the fact that they viscerally hate one another. Until, of course, they don't.

lilacs and dandelions - jaskier/yennefer(/geralt), 46.8k, canon divergent, explicit

Geralt seeks out Yennefer only to find her, of all unbelievable and ridiculous things, shacking up with his bard.

other things i’ll never be - geralt/jaskier/yennefer, 23.9k, modern au, everyone is trans,

Yennefer renamed herself when she was fourteen.

Jaskier re-learned his own name and built himself from the ground up and then again and all over again.

Geralt denies and denies and denies.

how long we were fool’d - jaskier/yennefer, aromantic geralt, platonic found family, suburban neighbors au, 9.8k

Yennefer and Jaskier are the eclectic, married couple who have just moved in to an ordinary suburban neighborhood next door to hot, single dad Geralt and his young daughter, Ciri.

Geralt has no idea what to make of them. None at all.

i been in the valley - geralt/yennefer/jaskier, 9.5k, polyamorous triad equestrian au, explicit

Jaskier is the reckless sort of brave that thinks nothing of wearing white breeches on an impromptu trail ride, and Yennefer has clawed her way up from nothing to an esteemed training position at a sprawling equestrian complex. When a mysterious, decidedly attractive stranger with a knack for horsemanship and an unknown backstory arrives one day at the barn, neither is the type to just sit back and let the other seduce him. Competition is what they know best, and Geralt is first prize.

Or the equestrian witcher AU literally no one asked for but that we all deserve.

(don’t) poke the sleeping dragon - geralt/jaskier/yennefer, 7.5k yen drives a wizard van au, pwp/explicit, warnings for drug use & mildly dubious consent

A retelling of Bottled Appetites but everyone is really high at a nerdy music festival and Yennefer has a wizard van for no discernible reason and also Geralt gets pegged.

twas nothing at all - geralt/yennefer/jaskier, 6.1k, pwp/explicit

There once was a succubus, ugly and crass who cast a dark spell on one fine lad and lass But Geralt of Rivia, who saw them enthralled took a cock up his arse like twas nothing at all

lay these things bare - yennefer/jaskier - 4.5k

Jaskier comes to Yennefer to solve a pressing issue.

Yennefer can't help herself from having a bit of fun. Until it's not really all that fun anymore.

Aka Jaskier goes bald and Yen has a crisis and it's somehow very very tender idk

over the edge - jaskier/yennefer, 4.2k, pwp/explicit

Returning from an errand, Yennefer catches Jaskier fucking the innkeeper's wife in her bed. Of course, the only logical thing to do is to join them. It is her bed, after all.

said you’d never smile again - yennefer/jaskier, 2.2k

“If you should ever witness that smile turned your way,” Istredd says, cross-eyed with drunkenness, pointing a sharp finger into Jaskier’s chest. “You will feel like the luckiest man alive. I promise you this. You will be half-ruined for any other. You will wish you could inspire that smile a dozen times over and then some. That she would look at you like that until the end of your days.”

And Jaskier doesn't really get what he means. Until, he does.

you’re not a stranger - yennefer/dandelion, book fic, blood of elves au, 2.2k

Sharing a meal, Yennefer had told the poet ”I know you and like you”, and expressed that strange affection as a show of gratitude for keeping Geralt sane and whole on the Path, but that was not the extent of it, no, not by half.

She had grown fond of him, the utter ignoramus, and equal parts curious. Curious whether she could coax more verse from him on the topic of her power, her heart, her strength, her beauty, and curious also, if the swagger he walked with was well-deserved, if he was as well-endowed in terms of his… talent as he professed in song.

you can sharpen your knife - yennefer/jaskier - 1.8k, pwp/explicit

After an ambush reveals that Jaskier is plenty handy with his little dagger, Yennefer finds herself hot and bothered.

that medicine i need - jaskier & yennefer, 1.6k

A Jaskier who skirts the boundaries of gender helps Yennefer navigate some identity issues of her own.

geraskier fic

long on the road - geralt/jaskier, 80s trucker au, 14.9k, warnings for major character death & depiction of terminal illness/HIV/AIDS

Geralt is a long-haul trucker who has recently broken it off (again) with his ex-wife. Jaskier is a free spirit musician hitchhiking across the country while grappling with a sudden reminder of his mortality. Geralt really, really regrets picking him up at the last rest area. Until, he doesn’t.

how light carries on - geralt/jaskier, geralt/regis, 9.6k, sequel to long on the road

Jaskier dies in 1990. Geralt lives.

the waters dark and deep - geralt/jaskier, 8.7k, warning for character death

Yennefer wonders if the Witcher bent first to will the ground warm and dry or if he hacked with furious, shuddering blows until the earth fractured and gave way to him. No matter, the grave carved out of the swell of the bluff bears the same dark weight in the end. A little body, withered in age, wrapped in a worn quilt from their bed and swept beneath the soil one broad stroke at a time.

Or, the one where Geralt goes with Jaskier to the coast and spends happily ever after farming by the sea.

you were always gold to me - geralt/jaskier, greenhouse owner!jaskier, ex con!geralt au, 6k, explicit

After spending ten years behind bars for getting caught up in the wrong crowd while trying his hardest to be a worthy father to his little daughter, Geralt takes up a job at a swanky garden center owned by the bubbly and charismatic man of many yellow flower names. They rest, they say, is just gravity.

denial’s not just a river - geralt/jaskier, 3.7k, pwp/explicit

prompt fill for an anon who asked for loss of control/loss of agency in relation to edging/orgasm control/premature ejaculation/omorashi aka it’s geralt piss fic, babes

to pull me from myself again - geralt/jaskier - 1.8k, role reversal, bard!geralt & witcher!jaskier

“You could be my barker!” the Witcher exclaimed in a fit of wide-armed inspiration on the brown road. “You sir, seem in want of a muse, and I am chock full of musings. Full to the brim.”

“Full of something,” said Geralt, hands tight on the strap of his lute case, and Jaskier barked out a surprised laugh. Or at least, Geralt thought it was a laugh.

It twisted gutturally in his throat.

other fic

hands on my waist, do it softly - geralt/jaskier/eskel - 6.7k, fem!jaskier/witchergender fem-bodied witchers, pwp/explicit

She had thought their ilk did not usually travel in pairs, but there they were, two great, hulking shapes in the rough-hewn doorway of the tavern.

Or: fem!Jaskier gets sandwiched between two beefy lady Witchers

blood of the covenant, water of the womb - geralt & renfri, 2.7k, warnings for imagined rape/non-con, gore, body horror

“Spoken like the beast the world will believe you to be. But we both know you’re no beast, my dear. Simply a victim of circumstance, as I was. No beast at all.”

“Quit blabbering,” said Geralt. “Let me guess. Find a way to lift the curse, and you sway the masses in my favor.”

Stregobor’s pleasant smile deepened his rosy cheeks.

“No, no, I know how to end my affliction. Now that you are here, it will not be long.”

respite - yen/vesemir, 1.8k

Vesemir is old. Yennefer allows him small moments of rest.

swallow - geralt/yen, geralt & ciri - 1.3k, character study, gore

May he rot to make earth. May he nourish one small patch of soil, one tuft of grass. That’s where he’ll retire, in the gut of a carrion bird. Vulture shit. A fitting tribute. All the memorial he’s ever going to get.

#and that's that!#my fic

266 notes · View notes

funkzpiel · 5 years ago

Text

Welcome ~

Since roughly 50 of ya’ll suddenly started following me in the span of a day (hello, welcome to the dumpster fire!), thought I’d put together a list of Witcher shit created here so far.

SMOTHER - (Read it on AO3) | (Read it on Tumblr - Pt 1 / Pt 2) Hanahaki, OT3 (Jaskier/Geralt/Yennefer), Whump, Hurt/Comfort NSFW/smut in 2nd chapter only

The first time it happened, Geralt was alone. Not alone as he once had been. Not alone because he chose to be alone. Alone, because he drove them away. No one would have a man who used ill-gotten wishes and spewed nothing but poisonous barbs from their mouth when you tried to comfort him. Alone, in a tub of water to scald the ache from his muscles, he wondered why it did little to relieve the pain. Why still he ached. Why it coalesced around his lungs like a thorn bush.

And then the coughing started.

QUIET - (Read it on AO3) | (Read it on Tumblr) Gaskier, Mute!Jaskier, Magic Cure, Confessions

He doesn’t sing again. That prickly part of Geralt that’s been traveling alone for most of his life gruffly thought he’d enjoy that result. After all, he did his level best to have the issue resolved. It wasn’t his fault that the bard got involved. He hadn’t invited him along – he had just wanted to fucking sleep for fucking once in his life, damn it. It had been his wish though, however unintentional, that brought the bard into this new life, this silent existence. A world without Jaskier’s singing.

Prompt: Another consideration (sorry) is if Jaskier did lose his voice permanently from the Jinn and Geralt feels guilty and doesnt stop trying to find a cure even though he knows there isnt one (or lies to Jaskier that he's trying to find one til Jaskier finds out).

TRUST - (Read it on AO3) | (Read it on Tumblr) Gaskier, Hypothermia, Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Spooning

There were two long, deep, tumbling lines stretching all the way down the side of the cliffside – one far larger than the other and streaked crimson in great bursts – and at the bottom he spotted them: a werewolf and a witcher. Both still as death. The world fell silent, or perhaps it had always been silent and it was Jaskier that had been stunned to quietness in every sense of the word. He could see wind stir the grey, metallic fur of the beast even from as high up as he was, but he couldn’t hear the wind. Couldn’t feel it. His skin felt tight and staticky with dread, clammy and cold. His heart beat so fiercely against his breast that he could feel it swaying him minutely on his feet.

Ask Prompt: Geralt whump, hypothermia and frightened-but-competent!Jaskier... these are things I crave...

HOW TO CARE FOR YOUR WITCHER - (Read it on AO3) | (Read it on Tumblr - Ch 1 / Ch 2 / Ch 3) Gaskier, Whump, Hurt/Comfort

Jaskier felt his brows pucker into the slightest frown and not for the first time cursed Geralt for the wrinkles he would no doubt get because of the stubborn witcher and his stupid concepts of logic and reason – aka, his utter lack of either when it came to simple matters of health, wellbeing and general comfort.

Witchers, honestly.

Ch1 - Starvation Ch2 - Migraines

TOGETHER - (Read it on AO3) | (Read it on Tumblr) Gaskier, Child Surprise!Jaskier, Drunken Confessions

Geralt himself had the beginning of a pleasant buzz beginning to burn throughout his body, numbing his ire toward fate and destiny and village folk who were constantly trying to rip him out of his money for doing jobs no sane man would do. Perhaps Jaskier had been right. He did need a night to drink, to spit in destiny’s face, and be neither father-to-be or witcher, but merely a man in a bar drinking with a friend.

The evening went on like that – pleasant and mundane and mild – until suddenly it was anything but. Because Jaskier, the bloody bard that he was, just had to make things personal. And in Geralt’s experience, nothing good ever came from getting personal.

Prompt: Geralt wonders why he can never get rid of Jaskier. One night Jaskier is drunk and telling Geralt stories of his childhood [...] leading to a rather surprising revelation about Fate.

DRIFT - (Read it on AO3) | (Read it on Tumblr) Alpha!Jaskier, Omega!Geralt, Hurt/Comfort

“Someone spotted your witcher out by the wood. He’s in a right state. No one’s brave enough to go near’em.”

Those had been the words of the messenger who had tracked Jaskier down at the inn, sent by the alderman. Jaskier had been prepared to go out into the rain and find a soggy, grumpy witcher. But “a right state” didn’t even begin to cover it.

(Geralt struggles with the aftermath of a contract gone wrong and Jaskier is there to pick up the pieces)

TEETH - (NSFW) (Read it on AO3) | (Read it on Tumblr) Regis/Geralt/Dettlaff, Biting, Light Manhandling, Vampire/Witcher Sandwich

“There are times I curse the trials for not making you invulnerable, Geralt,” Regis said, straddling Geralt’s lap like a lanky cat. Geralt peeked through hooded eyes, overwhelmed by Regis’ hands on his hips and Dettlaff’s curled around his ribs from behind. The higher vampire’s pupils were blown wide as Regis watched Dettlaff lap at the new set of impressions his teeth had left in the witcher’s shoulder – just this shy of breaking skin, angry and pinkened and puffy. “But it is times like this that I’m grateful for it just as well.”

“We vampires heal too quickly to share such luxuries with one another,” Dettlaff said, his voice like the roar of the ocean over sand; level, consistent and lulling. Geralt pressed his head back against the vampire’s shoulder and shivered in his grasp, eyes on Regis all the while.

DRABBLES -

Jaskier stops singing after the Djinn and Geralt hates it.

NAVIGATIONAL TAGS -

#Witcher Ask Box for mini answers/fills to things.

#Witcher Writing for my works

#Fic Rec for other people’s works I’d recommend.