#pairing: eskel/geralt

[ao3feed-witcher-podfic]

by Chantress

Geralt is recovering slowly. For every step forward, he seems to take several steps back. His life improves when he’s given a service dog, but the idea of facing other people—real people, with judgments and options, who see him only as a burden—is almost more than he can handle. Then, he meets a large, soft-looking man with an even larger, softer dog, and he begins to hope that real, genuine connection might still be possible for him…

Words: 33, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Eskel (The Witcher), Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia

Relationships: Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia

Additional Tags: Mentioned Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Dog Roach (The Witcher), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Service Dogs, Mental Health Issues, References to Depression, Recovery, Getting Together, Awkward Flirting, Fluff, Podfic, Podfic Length: 30-45 Minutes, Audio Format: MP3, Fandom Trumps Hate

Listen on AO3

[eskel-loves-lilbleater]

Geralt/Triss or Eskel/Triss?

If I have to chose between those two and ONLY those two, then I definitely go with Eskel/Triss. I feel like Triss & Geralt's relationship, both from the books and the games, has SO many issues that it's rather toxic. I don't hate it, I just think they can do better.

That being said, my actual preferred pairings?

Yennefer/Triss:

Completely fan-based, I know, but I feel they meet on a more even level, have comparable life experience, understandings etc. I think they are better for each other and make each other better, than most of the alternatives.

Geralt/Jaskier:

I mean, it's really Geralt and ANYBODY else BUT Triss or Yen but I understand why him and Jaskier are such a popular pair. Again, they make each other better, for the most part.

I also like Geralt/Eskel and Geralt/Regis however, if I had to pick faves?

Eskel/Regis:

Bloody absolute rare-pair and I don't get it. Lots of people adore Geralt & Regis together (which I get) but I think Eskel would be an even better match. The love of books and philosophy, animals and simple pleasures. And we KNOW Eskel would not have the slightest issue with Regis' species affiliation. Big, brawny Eskel would LOVE someone who can take and give back like a Higher Vampire. Feral Eskel getting all protective and Regis finding it adorable because he REALLY doesn't need it. They would be so sweet together.

Lambert/?:

But what about the youngest, surliest wolf? I mean, any combo of Lambert/Aiden/Voltehre/Milena, I just eat that shit right up. Absolute GIVE ME MORE and I will be happy. (Big thank you to @inexplicifics for creating so much of this and inventing Milena. Big happy spot in my heart!!)

Or Lambert/Eskel lol

Other fave pairings:

Letho/Gaetan

Vesemir/Guxart

Ivar/Keldar

And why is there so very little love for Arnaghad? I need giant bear love!

<3

[pherryt]

Matter of Convenience

Witchersexual!Jaskier, Incubus!Jaskier

Rated: E Pairings: Jaskier/Everyone, Eskel/Geralt, Vesemir/Guxart, Coen/Lambert, Lambert/Aiden, Cedric/Axel, and various permutations between Words Posted: 6914 (2 of 19 chapters so far) Posting Schedule: 1 Chapter a day

Summary: When a Witcher finds Jaskier trying to feed behind the tavern, he thought it was over, finally. His secret was out. But the Witcher surprises him and proposes something completely different, bringing him home to Kaer Morhen instead.

Turns out, some of the Witcher mutations leave them in a tight spot of their own. Vesemir proposes to help Jaskier learn about himself so he won't become a danger to others if he helps them through the winter season.

 It really works out better than planned.

[bonbonqueen]

Chapters: 7/7 Fandom: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Lambert, Eskel & Jaskier | Dandelion, Eskel & Jaskier | Dandelion & Lambert Additional Tags: Pre-Relationship, Toussaint (The Witcher), Minor Original Character(s), Case Fic Summary:

Lambert and Eskel are spending the winter with Geralt in Toussaint - more sun, wine and sleep than they've had in years and yet they find themselves bored. When a minor Baron seeks help with a curse that's killing his servants and destroying his crops, they find themselves tangled in a mystery that is deeper than expected.

Written for the WBB2021

[alons-ycreeper]

Look I don't write for this pairing I pure read fanfic of it and that's it but this one idea keeps festering in my head so here:

Post-mountain, already at Kaer Morhen but like no Deathless Mother shenanigans. Geralt gets shit faced with his brothers as per the winter usual only this time with the added bonus of all his angst physically following him home. Especially the Jaskier-angst. The bard hasn't spoken much to Geralt instead spending all his time with Yennefer in the lab, continuing Ciri's noble education, or helping Vesemir finally organize the library. Basically Jaskier makes zero time for Geralt except for meal times which always have the bard either sitting with Yenn, Ciri, or Vesemir but never near Geralt.

So when Geralt goes to drink with Lambert, Eskel (both game-canon) and Coën he finds out that Jaskier has been slowly approaching his brothers little by little trying to befriend them. It drives the angst and jealousy through the roof and it's not even midnight before Geralt is flat on his ass murmuring "Toss A Coin" in the softest, saddest tone ever particularly on the "your witcher" part. The boys tell their brother to get some rest and the big sad wolf trudges up the step until he stops in front of Jaskier's room. He can hear the bard sleeping, he just wants to check on him so Geralt opens the door and lets himself in.

The bard is a pretty as ever. Quarter-elf blood goes a long way to keep it like that. Then Geralt notices the quill on the desk still dripping with ink. Jaskier is dead asleep.

Quill. Jaskier. Quill. Jaskier. Geralt has an idea.

Jumping out of bed the next morning, Jaskier rushes down to get whatever breakfast is left over. He doesn't notice the others gawking at first too busy feeding himself and telling Ciri that the lessons with him will be combined with Yennefer's today as they'll be discussing court mages. It isn't until he's done that he notices them. Eskel, Lambert and Coën have this horrified-amused look, Vesemir looks very tired, Ciri is blushing so hard her face is as red as tomato and Yenn is glaring daggers at Geralt who seems to be very pleased with himself.

"Something on my face?" Jaskier asks.

"Go look in a mirror, bard." Yenn says not turning away from Geralt who she keeps murdering with her eyes.

So he does. Jaskier goes to the closest mirror and gasps at what he finds.

There written on his left cheek "Property of Geralt of Rivia". Kaer Morhen is about to be down a witcher.

[artistsfuneral]

a/b/o, but for once the story is actually about the beta

big no progrom pack with Geralt, Eskel, Lambert, Gweld and Gardis and Aubry and Clovis

with Lambert still being the youngest of their pack, a beta (thank fuck) who they all say matches really nicely with their scent

Lambert, fresh out of presentation (still changed his body, still felt weird and intrusive and absolutely exhausting, even without it ending in a heat or rut) just goes with it - surely they know what they're talking about

so Lambert is pack. he sits with them, eats with them, trains with them and shares a den (not his bed, he needs his own bed) with them

and nobody really explains anything to him? do they just assume that he knows what to do?? have Gweld and Gardis instinctively know what to do once they presented as omegas? then, why doesn't he know what to do??

why does it feel so wrong?

cue Lambert, during his pack's heat cycle, feeling more like a handmaiden than a pack member. when Gweld and Gardis care for their omegas, they're rewarded with bright smiles and soft kisses, when Lambert does he gets a 'good job'? when Gweld and Gardis care for their alphas, they're hugged and scented and when Lambert does he gets a pat on the shoulder?

do they even want him there?

it feels obvious that they do not. so after their cycle is over he walks out on them (hates that his instincts won't let him leave while they're still at it, while he still can work for them) and doesn't look back

two years later he finds himself in Tretogor of all places, chewing through a stale piece of bread that seriously has seen better days but was half off at the market, while watching a newly mated alpha omega pair making eyes at each other

and he just- he feels his pack bond breaking and he cries, silent tears running down his face while he eats a piece of bread that suddenly tastes so much worse

Meanwhile Madison is grappling with the fact that not every issues can be settled by committee

meanwhile six other witchers are going absolutely nuts over the fact that they feel the bond to their youngest, sweetest, grumpiest pack member fading away

this is how things went from their perspective:

they're litter mates, close knit and seemingly perfectly balanced: two alphas, two omegas, two betas

and then - decades later - they scent a new pack mate and it's that one guy, only surviver of his cohort, half-feral, spicey, grumpy Lambert

he doesn't really fit a beta's usually calm, softspoken demeanor, but they don't care, because he fits their pack so well, they never knew how much they needed him until they met Lambert

immune to their omegas' charm and their alphas' dominance, Lambert does what Gweld and Aubry would never be bold enough to do

he openly berates them when they're being stupid, always saying out loud what he thinks, doesn't cower in front of the alphas and neither is too soft with their omegas

but

but he never initiates anything that could be interpreted as more than just friendly, sleeps in his own bed, doesn't seem to like prolonged contact and not once has asked for anything during their heat cycle

they just assumed Lambert wasn't interested. because he's always so up front with everything else, surely he'd just say something, right?

wrong. and they realize that as soon as he vanishes right after they calm down from their latest cycle - "I thought he just stepped out for a moment, what do you mean he's gone?!"

and for two years he doesn't return to Kaer Morhen and the pack grows morw and more worried

and then they feel their bond to him fail

and all hell breaks loose

[inexplicifics]

Been waffling about this, but finally gave in. For the WIP snippet thing, can I ask for Cats Among Wolves #1 and #3, and more of Pirate Laiden - Aiden POV?

For Cats Among Wolves, here's a very unhappy Guxart:

There’s a yank at the rope holding the bag’s mouth closed around the prisoner’s throat; he snarls again, more weakly, as his air is briefly cut off, and then there’s the blade of a knife cold against his skin and the rope parts as easily as butter. The bag is pulled up to bare the prisoner’s mouth, and he gasps for breath for a long moment. He can just barely smell two newcomers past the fug of his own filth. One is a beta; the other an omega. He can’t get much more than that. “What School?” the first voice demands. The prisoner licks dry lips. “Cat,” he rasps. The response is a pair of snarls. “Fucking Cat alphas,” the second voice hisses. “Take his knot before we kill him.” The prisoner pants softly, wishing he could argue with that assessment of his School. He can’t, though. He lost that right longer ago than he likes to think about.

And a rather more cheerful Letho:

“Sure,” Gaetan says, and smirks. “Assuming you’re any good.” Letho snorts, lounging back against the wall. “Still alive, aren’t I? Gaetan snorts back, an inelegant sound. “Point, yeah.” He takes a long swallow of ale. “Right then, hit me: stupidest contract you ever got.” Letho grins. “Stupidest contract…huh. Well, there was the alderman who tried to hire me to kill the drowner in the mill pond.” Gaetan raises an eyebrow. “Seems pretty standard.” Letho shrugs. “Oh, sure, sure. Nice standard contract. Drowner’s not usually a literal log, though.” “A log?” Gaetan’s mouth drops open and then he starts to grin. “A log. They hired you to kill a fuckin’ log.” “Nice big one,” Letho says, enjoying the sparkle in the Cat’s eyes. “Kinda mossy. Couple sticky-out bits that sorta looked like drowner claws, if you squinted and it was dark and you were kinda drunk.”

And a much too smug Lambert from the pirate thing:

“Has anyone ever won all three bouts?” Aiden asks, half out of a desire to distract himself from the throbbing of his broken arm, half out of genuine curiosity. “Yeah - my older brother Geralt, he’s ridiculously good. Faster’n any other swordsman I ever met. It’s fucking annoying.” Lambert shrugs a little. “But I’m better’n he is with knives, and also I’ve dyed his hair bright green five times now and he still hasn’t figured out how I’m doing it.” Aiden snorts with laughter. “How are you doing it?” Lambert smirks. “I bribe his shieldbrother Eskel to swap out his hair oils.”

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 68

The witcher boys run a sanctuary for monsters. Lambert is off on his honeymoon with Aiden, and they're down a pair of hands, so they go about hiring someone to help around the plot. Only problem is only one person shows up to try and get the job. A twink with bright eyes and a big smile, in fancy colorful clothing, who admitted to knowing NOTHING about any of the monsters, and wants to do all of this for "Song Material." Geralt doubts he'll last a week. Eskel puts Geralt in charge of training him. Godsdamn it all.

[ao3feed-witcher-podfic]

by Chantress

Jaskier is not what anyone would call a traditional alpha, and certainly not the kind of alpha anyone would want for a mate. And he is quite surprised to unceremoniously discover that Geralt, his companion of many years, is in fact an omega. Geralt and his fellow witchers repress their heats until they arrive at Kaer Morhen for the winter. This year, since Jaskier’s rut is starting at just the right time, Geralt invites Jaskier to come along. Jaskier thinks he knows what to expect when partnering an omega in heat, but the situation at Kaer Morhen thoroughly wrecks his expectations.

Words: 61, Chapters: 1/13, Language: English

Fandoms: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M, Multi

Characters: Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Eskel (The Witcher), Lambert (The Witcher), Coën (The Witcher)

Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Coën/Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Lambert

Additional Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Winter at Kaer Morhen (The Witcher), Pack Dynamics, Pack Bonding, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Wall Sex, Double Penetration, Knotting, canon-typical child abuse, Consensual Mind Control, of the Axii variety, Magical Performance-Enhancing Drugs, Self-Esteem Issues, Their abandonment issues are rubbing off on each other as much as their dicks are, I Shook A Witcher And Intergenerational Trauma Fell Out (The Witcher), Alpha Jaskier | Dandelion, Omega Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Group Sex, Podfic, Audio Format: MP3

Listen on AO3

[wyrm-mlm]

🗯️Seeking Fandom Based Roleplay Partners🗯️

A little bit about me: you can call me Wyrm! I am 32, trans man(He/him) with ADHD. I have been roleplaying for over half my life though said life has been hectic so it’s been a few months since I’ve last role played in any complicity so I may be a bit rusty.

I write a couple to several paragraphs, and definitely like to keep things moving. I reply once a day usually but can also get a tad obsessed and go several times a day. But life does happen so we can communicate and be understanding.

What I’m looking for: I am a sucker for AUs, omegaverse, arranged marriages, drama, plot and yes, NSFW. I can get dark but also respect boundaries.

99% of my pairings are mxm or mlm and always cc x cc. I don’t personally care for OCs. I don’t mind side pairing being other combinations of genders but I am a gay man so I would like the main focus to be gay. Non binary or trans interpretations of characters are also encouraged. Give me all the head canons.

Fandoms I am looking for and pairings(who I would like to play is *italicized*. It’s not set in stone though so feel free to ask)

X-men(mostly movies)

*Charles* x *Erik*

Logan x *Scott*

Logan x *Kurt*

DC

*Clark Kent* x Bruce Wayne

The Sandman

Dream x *Hob*

The Witcher

*Jaskier* x *Geralt*

Lambert x *Aiden*

Coen x *Eskel*

*Eskel* x *Geralt*

Harry Potter

Remus x *Sirius*

*James* x Regulus

I only rp on discord, but if any of this sounds interesting to you, please shoot me a message! I would be happy to chat and hopefully start a fun story!

[0dde11eth]

Vesemir: OK pups, it's sparring time! Everyone pair up as follows: geralt and eskel. Aiden and coen. Remus and aubry. Lambert and jaskier.

Lambert: ugh does anyone want to change partners?

Jaskier: ooh! I do!

Lambert: -_-

Jaskier: >:D

[shy-urban-hobbit]

Five times the Witchers learnt just how cat-like Aiden actually is

Biscuit making - Lambert

Lambert stared down at his friend, eyebrows raised in silent question as Aiden dozed lightly, plastered to Lambert so they were snuggled chest to chest in the small inn bed. He'd gotten used to Aiden purring in his sleep when the Cat witcher felt safe (and Lambert tried not to linger too long on how that made him feel) long ago but this…this was new.

The hands resting on Lambert's chest were rhythmically gripping and releasing the material of his shirt in tandem, the pinprick scratch of long, tougher than average fingernails just enough to feel through the fabric. It wasn't uncomfortable as such, in fact once he got used to it, when paired with the soft, barely audible purr it was actually quite relaxing.

Soon enough, Lambert found himself being pulled into sleep, either not caring or not realising that he himself had started letting out a steady stream of content rumbling of his own in response.

"Question for you, Cat."

Aiden didn't pause in lacing up his boots, "Ask away, Wolf."

"You know you were-" he clenched his fingers in imitation of the gesture, "I don't know - kneading - me last night?"

At that, Aiden did pause and Lambert had the feeling if he could blush he'd be bright red.

"I..shit. Sorry, I didn't even realise. I usually only do that around my siblings. I'll try to control it better."

"Didn't say it was a bad thing. " Lambert bumped his shoulder lightly against Aiden's, "I was just curious is all. I don't give a shit what you do, short of stabbing me."

Lambert tried to ignore the warmth blooming in his chest as Aiden let out a tiny purr.

Jumpscare - Eskel

Eskel hummed to himself as he bought in the last of the vegetables from the greenhouses for pickling. Glad to see that Aiden was already in the kitchen setting everything up and was currently busy with a keg of brine. Things had been a bit tense to start with when his little brother had rolled up with a Cat of all people but Aiden had made it very hard to not like him. If nothing else, he was always more than willing to lend a hand with chores - always a bonus when your home was in a near constant state of disrepair.

"Alright." Eskel said, dumping one of the sacks out onto the stone countertop, "That's the last of this year's crop. If we work quickly we should be done by-"

He was interrupted by a yowl next to him and if Aiden was an actual cat, Eskel would be inclined to think somebody had just stepped on his tail. Whirling around he saw no sign of the other Witcher. Until he looked up just in time to see Aiden hauling himself up to fully perch on one of the rafters, glaring at Eskel's haul.

"Eh...Aiden?"

"Get those things away from me." The Cat hissed pointing accusingly.

Now Eskel was even more confused, all that was there was a perfectly innocent pile of….

"You mean these?" He held up one of the cucumbers, causing Aiden to growl low in his throat in response. Eskel hastily dropped it again, "Ok, ok. I'll put these away for now and we can work on the beetroot instead. Ok?"

Aiden nodded but still refused to leave his perch until the offending items had been shoved back into the sack and into a cupboard.

Soundlessly, he grabbed a knife and began to peel and chop the beetroot.

"Cat thing?"

"Cat thing."

Zoomies - Geralt

Geralt couldn't sleep. Again. He was nowhere near desperate enough to go down the Djinn route again but by the Gods it was starting to get annoying. He just wanted one night where his mind wouldn't keep throwing up scenarios where he failed his responsibilities to Ciri, Yen, Jaskier, his brothers…he was just one man for fucks sake.

He decided to go check on the animals, Eskel had mentioned that the fence on one of the goat pens could do with repairs but it was already getting dark by the time he'd noticed. It was on the list for the following morning but his brother would be heartbroken if any of them had gotten loose and hurt in the meantime.

Turns out Geralt wasn't the only one feeling restless. As he entered the courtyard he caught sight of a figure seemingly in the middle of running laps along the wall. Too lithe to be Eskel or Lambert, too tall to be Ciri, it had to be Aiden. Geralt stopped for a second, unsure why until he realised. Aiden was moving fast.. too fast to be running it safely in the dark and frost. Even for a Witcher, that could be a broken leg or concussion at least if he fell.

As if the Gods had been reading his thoughts, Aiden lost his footing and soundlessly tumbled down onto the cobbles of the courtyard, landing in a heap. Only to bounce back up immediately as if nothing had happened and continue running laps at ground level instead.

Geralt felt his brow furrow as he continued watching, what the fuck?

"Couldn't sleep either?"

Aiden had come to a stop in front of him, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat and eyes darting around ceaselessly as he almost seemed to be vibrating in his own skin and using all of his self control to stay still and talk.

Geralt hummed in response before gesturing to the wall "You do that often?"

Aiden looked slightly sheepish as if he expected to be reprimanded, "Only a couple of times since I've been here. The mutagens. Sometimes I feel like I'm going to combust there and then if I don't move , for some reason it's worse at night. I think there was something meant to make us nocturnal, at least partially anyway. If I were on the path I'd go hunting or just go run pell mell in the woods for a bit. Doing that on an unfamiliar mountain didn't seem like the smartest thing though. I'm reckless, not suicidal."

Geralt huffed a laugh, "Well, don't let me stop you. Just don't make us find you lying out here with your skull cracked open in the morning."

Aiden gave a mock salute before going to mount the wall again, "Remind me to tell you about Cat Trials. Trust me, a fall from this is nothing. You could always run a couple of laps with me if you want? It's just, you look as if you could use something to tire you out too."

Geralt shrugged. At this point, why the fuck not?

Chirp - Jaskier

"Melitele's tits, it's cold. I mean, it. Is. COLD." Jaskier proclaimed as the two of them closed the door on the snow storm they'd just left, moving to hang his cloak and hood by the fire in the great hall, "I swear, if you and Lambert ever decide you're heading South for the winter I'm coming with you. Geralt can freeze his tits off up here alone, he'll survive. Unlike me. "

Aiden said nothing, although the bard had been around enough Witchers by now to know his companion was probably silently laughing at him as he removed his own cloak. Jaskier tsk'd at the snow clinging to Aiden's hair and moved to brush it out without thinking. The Cat let out a small but clearly audible "mrrrp" and momentarily pushed into the hand before he caught himself. He turned to face Jaskier, who was grinning at him like both Yule and his birthday had come early.

"Oh, well. That is just precious! " He exclaimed, clapping his hands together excitedly like a small child who's just been shown a magic trick, "Oh my dear, if all Cat Witchers make such adorable noises I may have a new favourite school. Do you all do that or is it just some of you? Purring's a given, every Witcher I've met purrs to some degree or other."

Aiden caught Coen's eye, the other Witcher flashing him a smirk which said 'You're on your own'

"That's it, I've decided! I'm making it my mission this winter to find out just how cat-like you are!"

"Do that and I'll hide your lute up in the rafters." Aiden said with no real heat, the Bard trailing after him asking questions about tables and glassware, distracted (for now) from the coldness of the Keep.

If I fits… - Vesemir

Vesemir basked in the quiet. There were perks to being one of the first ones to wake in the mornings. As much as he loved having his boys back safe and sound for the winter, after months alone the constant noise could become a little overwhelming at times, making these moments of quiet solitude all the more precious.

He made his way to the laundry room with an armful of bedding he'd found which probably hadn't been washed since the previous winter if the stale smell was anything to go by. No matter.

He quirked an eyebrow at the closed laundry hamper. He was certain he'd opened the lid earlier unless old age and senility were finally starting to get to him. Dumping the dirty sheets on the ground to free his hands he lifted the lid again.

And was greeted by Aiden blinking sleepily up at him, disturbed by the sudden brightness. Vesemir briefly took a moment to try and figure out what manner of contortion he'd used to cram himself into a space the boys had struggled to fit in even as adolescents before catching Aiden's eye. The two held eye contact as Aiden tilted his head in silent question, still half asleep. Vesemir wordlessly lowered the lid again in response before walking away shaking his head. It was too early for his boy's antics.

[winters-mistress]

Cuddle pile

It's cold. It's so fucking cold that Ciri thinks she may honestly ask the gods to take her to the next world, because nothing can be as cold as this. She's got two pairs of leggings on, two pairs of socks, one of Geralt's tunics, her pair of gloves that Eskel had found for her, and she's buried underneath several blankets. Yet, she's so cold. She's so fucking cold.

The door opens, she can hear the squeak of the hinges. Footsteps come towards her, she can tell by the gait that it's Geralt, he's trying to be quiet, but he knows she's awake.

"Ciri?" she peaks out of her cocoon of blankets, one eye blinking up at him. His lip twitches, and he reaches towards her. "Cone here, it's too cold for you to be here alone. Especially with the fire refusing to catch."

She realises that the fireplace and the torches are dead. How many times has somebody came in and tried to warm her, only for the wind to blow it out?

Her thoughts distract her enough that Geralts breath upon her cheeks startle her, but she doesn't jump when his arks finally pick her up, blanket cocoon and all.

She makes a questioning noise, but never says no to Geralt giving her a hug. She's carried like a baby out of her room, out of the wing, down two flights of stairs, down another corridor, a third set of stairs, before they end up at the kitchens.

She makes a confused noise. It can't be breakfast time yet, the keep is pitch black to her puny human eyes.

"Why're we here?" she asks, rubbing her tired eyes.

"It's too cold, even for us. Gotta rest." Geralt says. Ciri blinks at him.

All in all, the witchers are good when it comes to her sleeping. When her nights are plagued with the horrors of her past and future, and she wakes up screaming with wet cheeks, the witchers let her sleep in whenever her rest finally turns peaceful and dark. They allow her afternoon naps after training and chores are done, and send her to bed when she stumbles into the dining hall with dark circles under her eyes. Early nights and late starts aren't punished, and as long as training and chores are completed at some point in the day, the witchers don't particularly care when it happens. Hell, shes been wrapped up like a baby by Lambert of all people when they had determined she needed a sleep.

Which is why it shouldn't be surprising when he turns the last corner and finds five Witchers laying a couple feet away from the cracking fireplace underneath the stew pot. They've got blankets and pillows and furs, and look rather comfortable. Laying all over each other, looking rather like a puppy pile. Even Aiden joins in with the snuggling.

"Pups." Vesemir rumbles when he sees them both. Geralt puts her on the floor, kneeling down next to her.

"Come here, girl, get comfortable. Gonna be making camp here for a couple'a days." Coën clarifies when he sees her confused face. Ciri blinks, but nods. These things make sense, and she's seen all the men here hug, but admittedly, this is the first cuddle pile she's been privy to.

She turns upon her side, feeling Geralt curl behind her, trapping her in with his arms, wrapping her in another blanket. She hums, wrapping her hand over his, before Eskel pulls them both close, and she smiles, closing her eyes, feeling the warmth seep into her.

And tonight, she will sleep sweetly indeed.

[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."

[jasmines-library]

You'll Be Okay.

Geralt of Rivia/The Witchers x Injured Reader.

Summary: Growing up in Kaer Morhen as a female Witcher was never easy, but you always had your brothers beside you. Although you only see them a few times a year, you are still close, trusting each other with your lives as you have done many times before. So what happens when your brother, and best friend, gets infected by a creature you dedicate your life to hunting?

Warnings: Blood, gore, cannon typical violence, angst, choking, near death, swearing, stabbing, weapons, loss/grief, whump, angst, hurt/comfort, a bit of a slow start.

Notes: This can be interpreted as completely platonic, or as a Geralt x reader, or Eskel x reader, it’s up to you to choose. This also takes place during S2E2 of the Netflix show.

Word count: 4.1K (it got a little out of hand...)

⭒ Masterlist ⭒

Kaer Morhen was far from silent. The snow had settled on the blue mountains casting a misty haze across the sky and the Witchers had retired home for the winter. They sat gathered round the dim firelit hall sipping on beer and sweetened mead as they boasted about their scars and the exciting stories behind them. Witchers were rare to stumble upon.The trials were dangerous and most people died before completing them. There were as little as 20 witchers left after the massacres, where many of the few men died. Female Witchers were incomparable, unheard of. The trials were nearly impossible for boys, let alone a young girl. Though, some spoke of a woman with eyes as golden as the blazing sun whose magic and strength was comparable to that of mages. A woman who not only passed the trials but exceeded trials beyond those alongside Geralt of Rivia. 

You sat slumped against the table in the corner of the room with a dark beer in hand as you studied the scenes of your brothers before you. Many had not returned home. Being a Witcher was a dangerous art and not always a wanted one. You knew that. You could be killed or fatally injured at any unexpected moment. It’s why you all had to keep a keen eye out, a single slip up and it could be game over. Your golden eyes glazed over the men before you. You would be lying to say that your stomach knotted in the absence of Geralt and Eskel. You had grown close with the pair, Geralt had been there throughout your trials, easing you though the burning pain as the herbs coursed through your veins like fire and patching up wounds you could not. Eskel had helped train you to fight. He taught you to never give up. That you could do anything they could. Your enhanced senses meant that you could hear the rattling of the door handle before it slammed open and the muttering died down like a flame. A hooded figure stepped into the room. His pale hair fell in ragged ringlets in front of his face and his eyes that correlated yours melted from the piercing gaze they held as he pulled his hood down. Surprisingly, in tow was a young girl, perhaps around the same age you were when you began your trials. 

“Here comes trouble.”

You leaned forwards in your seat as Lambert stood and approached Geralt.

“Where the fuck have you been?” He folded his arms. 

“We thought you got lost. Or killed.” Coën jested. 

Geralt's eyes softened and a smile crept onto his lips. “Not yet. Sorry.”

Lambert smiled before embracing his brother tightly. “Brother! I knew you’d make a fucking entrance.”

A tall figure lurked towards the front of the room. His hair was much like Geralt’s; it shimmered softly under the light and his eyes were much like yours. Upon his face his moustache and eyebrows were littered with greys. 

“Wolf.” When he spoke his voice was firm though you could hear the relief. “You’re home. Finally.”

“Vesemir.” Geralt said, addressing the man. He was as close to a father as Geralt had. As close to a father as all of you had. The young girl who arrived with Geralt, clung to his side, anxiously, wrapped tightly in a fur shawl, which was so large that it tickled her rosy cheeks. Geralt gestured to her. “Had to make a few stops.”

“Hmm.”

A sort of uncomfortable silence encased the room as people waited for what would come next. The cracking of the flames was the only thing heard before you rose from your chair, the old wood creaking as it shifted, and made your way towards your brother. His face lit up with anticipation. 

“Geralt of Rivia.” You chuckled. “You never fail to surprise.”

Geralt studied you carefully as you spoke. He noticed all of the new blemishes in your skin and the fresh scar that ran across your eyebrow and down your cheek. He took in your eyes and the way their yellow hues shifted in the light and the smile that was pressed on your lips. He admired your hair and the way you kept it; different from the last time he saw you, but still he liked it. He had missed you. 

“Y/N. Long time no see.”

 Your lips curved further upwards and your eyes glistened. “Too long.” You pulled him in close and welcomed the slow beating of his heart. He was alive.

“He’s home!” The tender moment was broken by the slamming of a knife in one of the tables followed by the rest of your brothers swarming the man. 

~

It was darker still when the room continued to erupt with laughter at Lambert’s very animated retelling of one of his jobs. The young girl - Ciri, had made herself comfortable with a goblet, her face was lit up with an ecstatic grin. She reminded you much of yourself when you were her age. The wind howled outside, rattling against the door and pounding at the windows.

“Best job I had all year.” Lambert chuckled, taking another swig of his drink, spilling some of it down the side of his face and onto his shirt. He cursed and patted at it with a rag before tossing it back on the table. 

Vesemir raised his goblet aloft. “Each of your faces is cause enough for celebration. You’re safe. You made it back. You made it home.”

A series of glasses and goblets were raised in agreement. You raised yours high, morning the missing face of Eskel and your other brother who didn’t make it.

“Here’s to another winter together.”

There were a number of murmurs and follow up toasts, the sound of glasses clinking together and chairs shuffling.

Geralt raised his cup “To the brothers. To our sister. To family.”

“To family” chortled everyone. 

A strong draft rushed in as a booming voice sounded from the entrance to the hall. “To forgetting the fucking path! For one fucking night. Who’s ready?”

“Eskel!”

You rushed forwards and embraced him. His expression was tired and there was a thin sheen of sweat cascading across his brow. His dark hair fell across his face where it had fallen out of the tie he had scrapped it into. 

“Are you alright?” You asked him as you furrowed your brow. “You look like day old shit.”

He chuckled, placing a hand on your shoulder and making his way into the room “Yeah?You should see the other guy.”

Geralt eyed him as he stepped forwards, revealing the long, branchlike hand that was shoved into his bag. 

“The bout lasted six hours. I’d have got the fucker too. If I hadn’t lost my elixirs.” He threw the bag on the floor. It landed with a thud which ricocheted throughout the silent room and unsettled the grime on the floor. “Took her hand though.”

“What’s that?” One of your brothers rolled the bag over with his foot. “Is that a leshy?”

“Walked like one. Talked like one. Sort of.”

“Sort of?” You queried, raising your brow.

“I haven’t crossed a leshy in a while.” Geralt said, turning the branch over in his calloused hands. “Not in Kaedwen.”

Eskel pulled down the hem of his coat slightly. It was long and green, frayed at the edges. Bloodied bandages poked through from underneath. “Well count yourselves lucky. Unless you’re aching for the sting of one of their fucking roots.”

“Fire through the heart is the only thing that puts one down.” Vesemir said firmly. “Six hours in, that didn’t occur to you?”

Laughter scattered about the room and Eskel’s face darkened as he made a beeline towards Ciri, who took a sip from her goblet, trying to avoid his gaze and retain her laughter. He made it pretty impossible not to when his face was inches from hers.  “Who the hell are you?”

“Princess Cirilla of Cintra. Pleasure to meet you.”

He did not return the greeting, only glared at her for a brief moment before grunting and slipping away. You could tell that something was wrong. 

~~~

Your sword rang loudly across the courtyard as it made contact with Geralt's. He grunted as you advanced forwards, forcing him back against one of the pillars. You smirked, pressing the sword closer to him. He shoved you backwards, using his extra strength to force you to the floor. The snow was cold on your body, despite the layers you were wearing as you rolled underneath him, grabbing his uninjured leg and pulling him down to the ground. Scrambling quickly to your feet you forced the sword from his hand. 

“You’re getting sloppy, old man.” you chuckled.

“Or maybe I just let you win.”

Shaking your head, you held a calloused hand and helped him up from the ground. 

“When you told us you called law of surprise, Vesemir and I told you ‘big mistake.’ You said you promised you wouldn’t claim the child.”

“I had to save her.”

“I know. And you knew I would call you out on it.”

Geralt hesitated and placed his sword in a sheath. “Yeah.”

Your eyes found their way to the floor, tracing the little indents in the snow carved by the shuffling of feet. 

“What?” Geralt asked.

“Nothing.”

Geralt's stare spoke for him and you let out a deep sigh. 

“Eskel. He’s acting strange.”

Geralt sighed and brushed the hair from his face. “I noticed it too.”

“I sense something is changing, Geralt. Keep Ciri close.”

~~~

Eskels party raved on as you sat, tucked away in the corner with a glass of mead observing the way the flickering candlelight cast a gentle glow over everyone's faces. The witchers swayed and danced and kissed with women from the nearby village. You observed how Eskel was fondled over desperately by a fair haired woman. He hollered and pulled his arm back protectively when she got a fraction too close to his wound that was no longer leaking crimson, but burned like fire. You watched how Geralt, who had been previously absent, walked briskly towards him with angry lines etched on his face. You edged closer, something was telling you this wouldn’t end well. And you were right, you rose quickly to your feet when Eskel got up in Geralt's face. When you pushed the two of them apart, Eskel eyed you angrily.

You could tell his shoulder was bothering him and that he was in more pain than he let on. 

“You know, it's funny,” Eskel grunted at Geralt, “Me and the others, we come back here, all banged up. Rock troll busts Lambert's eye. A werewolf takes a chunk out of Coen’s arse…” Eskel’s gaze turned to you and he drank you in, lingering on the pink scar that ran along your face. “And Y/N… Y/N here gets her face torn up by a Bruxa. Was out for days.”

It’s clear from the way that Geralt watches you that you didn’t tell him that one. Eskel smirks and cocks his head. “Hmm, but looks like she didn’t tell you that one did she? And…what do you come back with? All i'm saying is when I find a princess, the last thing i'm gonna do is play knight.” he jested.

He swung at Geralt who quickly countered the punch and pulled his brother into a hold. You skidded to a halt besides the two trying to separate them. Eskel’s face was raging with anger, his eyes piercing like a thousand tiny daggers. “Eskel,” You told him sternly. “Do us a favour, and go to bed.” His teeth clenched and he pulled his hands into fists but before he could do anything, the woman pulled him away down a corridor and deep into the keep.  

You turned to leave, to go back to your corner or to join another Witcher, expecting Geralt to return to Ciri or wherever he had been before he caused the stir, but instead he gripped your arm and forced you to face him. You looked at him inquisitively. 

“Y/N…”

“Geralt.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about the Bruxa?”

You turned away from him, walking back to your goblet. “I didn’t think it mattered.”

“But you told Eskel?”

You whipped back around, his face was laced with concern and frustration. “I didn’t tell Eskel. He was there.”

“He was hunting it with you? Then why didn’t he stop it before you got hurt? I swear to the gods-”

“Geralt. Stop. He found me… we were both coincidentally hunting the same Bruxa.”

“You hate Bruxae.” Geralt stated. 

You hummed and sipped your drink. “There was a rumour about a local village being attacked by a vampire. Things had been slow and the pay was good, so I went to check it out. You know Bruxa, they’re quick and she got me from behind. Winded me and pinned me down so I couldn’t get to my weapons. Took a chunk out my face with her claws and nearly drunk me dry. That’s when Eskel found me. He shot her down and took me to an Inn. He saved my life Geralt. I can never repay him for that.”

~

It was the high pitch buzzing followed by the rapid vibrating of the medallion slung over your neck that caused your head to snap up. Everyone stopped. A low, guttering rumbling spread its way across the room. 

“Maybe Eskel’s leshy wants its hand back.” Coën said. 

Vesemir’s golden eyes scanned the room, trying to follow the pattering and heaving creaking. “Wield your wits, kids.”

Everything seemed to happen very quickly. Everyone scattered to keep Kaer Morhen safe, darting between corridors and brandishing themselves with their weapons. You slipped away from the crowd to try and find Eskel, if he was preoccupied and didn’t notice, or it was his leshy, he was in trouble, and you felt as though you owed him protection. Geralt, to your surprise, joined you in the eerily silent corridors. You had a feeling he wanted to get to Ciri, but knew he was needed in the fight or, perhaps after your story about the Bruxa, he felt as though he needed to stay by your side.

The weight of your sword was comfortable in your hand as you released it from its sheath, it was almost like an extension of your body; an arm made of silver, a protector, a deadly limb. The sound of your footsteps mixed with the steady drip of water seeping through one of the many spidering cracks in the tall ceilings. Sometimes they seemed never ending as though there was no escape from Kaer Morhen, you would be trapped in its walls forever. A low rumbling ricocheted throughout the keep, shaking the walls and blowing out some of the sconces, plunging more of the halls into darkness. You gripped your sword tighter. 

The grand oak doors creaked as Geralt forced them open. The room was dimly lit by the moonlight which flooded in from the skylight and from the chandeliers which swung wildly on their hinges. The pair of you edged your way inside, your eyes and ears sharp as you scanned the room. 

“Oh God…” You recoiled. On the left side of the room, the girl Eskel had been with was pinned against the wall, suffocated by a thick rope of branches. One protruded awkwardly from her mouth, a river of blood coating her chin and the offending branches. There was a thud, and you raised your sword aloft to slice through the thick vine that darted out towards you. A second one raced towards Geralt, who sliced through it as though it was butter. The pair of you readied your swords, turning to watch each other's backs and making your way further into the centre of the room. Glinting as it caught the light, your sword swung to destroy another branch, which had made to grab your ankle. The room was silent for a worrying moment. Then, the two of you were assaulted from all sides. The leshy growled as its arms attacked from all sides, breaking walls and bending the wooden framing of the windows. The pair of you swung your swords with precision, slicing and ducking to avoid a deadly ending, though no matter how hard you tried, the two of you were outnumbered. One of the vines, as thick as your arm, wound itself around Geralt, slamming him against the wall with a grunt, out of your reach. 

“Geralt!” You cried, trying to make your way over to him in vain, whilst dancing between the onslaught of vines. You could see the witcher struggling, wheezing and clawing at the second branch slivering across his neck, binding him to the stone pillar. You could see him straining, his hands struggling to grip the sconce that hung just out of reach, mocking him. The branches’ attack ceased for a moment, as the leshy rolled in. It was tall and spindly with a humanoid face that looked very pissed off. Geralt dropped beside you as the creature squealed in pain; he had managed to burn the wood with the sconce, casing it to drop him to the ground. With your face stony, you pointed your sword at the leshy. With the help of the flames from Geralt's sconce, the pair of you backed it behind a table. Geralt jabbed the flames at the creature, which caused the bark of its skin to blister and it to growl. When it turned its head towards you, your face dropped. 

Staring back at you were the piercing, green eyes of another witcher. “Eskel?” 

It came out as less than a whisper, your voice betraying you, revealing the fear behind your mask. 

“Y/N…” Eskel panted back. “Geralt.”

The leshy, Eskel, grunted in pain as it stood, tossing the table it hid behind to the side. Geralt dropped the flames and held his sword in front of him. It was only seconds before Eskel was firing vines and the pair of you. Geralt thrust his sword downwards, deep into one of the branches coming towards him. Eskel howled in pain and tossed his brother back into the doors before turning towards you. Desperate to get away from the danger, you rolled across one of the benches. The branches shot over you as you backed away. You were about to strike again, when two protruded from the walls and gripped both of your arms, yanking you backwards against a second cold bench. Two more slithered around your ankles, pinning you to the piece of furniture. They were harsh, thick with thorns and rough surfaces that scratched against your skin. You grunted, squirming to get free, but you were stuck. 

“Eskel.” You strained, “I don’t want to hurt you…please.”

The leshy bent over, towering above you so that you could see the scarring on the wooden version of Eskel’s face. When he spoke, his voice wasn’t the witty, gruff voice you were used to, but a fragile, pained whisper. “I came back here…I knew something was wrong.” He swallowed thickly, struggling with his words as you struggled against him with gritted teeth. Where was Geralt? What had Eskel done to him? “I don’t know what happened...”

One of the leshys arms jabbed itself into your shoulder, drawing ribbons of crimson blood. You screwed your face up and bit back a scream. 

“I thought I could fight it.” Another branch into the same shoulder. You groaned and clenched your jaw. The next few words were broken and hard to understand, you weren’t sure if it was because of the hazy pain you were in, or because Eskel was struggling against the leshy. Probably both. “I thought…you could help me like I helped you…”

Eskel stared at you, before turning away and screeching loudly. Vessemir stood in the doorway, his sword sheathed behind his back and a javelin which he had just thrown lodged inside the bark of the creature, Geralt stood beside him, weapon at the ready. It yanked it out and ascended into the ceiling as Vessemir removed his sword and began to cut the vines from around you. 

“What is this?” He grumbled, pulling you up to your feet.

“It’s Eskel.” Geralt replied. “The leshy’s infected him.”

Vesemir faltered. “But that’s not possible.”

‘

“That’s what we thought.”

The room creaked, the ceiling cracked and the chandeliers swayed as the three of you circled the room. You held your weapon in your off hand as you nursed your injured shoulder. When the leshy’s failed attacks wore thin, it descended from its place in the ceiling and made a beeline for the door. The elder witcher was quick to notice and ordered Geralt to shield them shut. Pissed that its simple escape route was no more, Eskel stalked towards Geralt, albeit didn’t make it very far because you and Vesemir assaulted him with chains that were pinned to the walls. The hooks dug into the bark, keeping him in place. You wound them tightly as he thrashed, suspending him off the ground. Vessemir’s attempts to calm him, telling him you could save him were futile. He just knocked the man to the side, attacking him with lengths of branches, sending him careening to the side. 

“Hey!” You yelled, stabbing one of the branches with the point of your sword. The creature turned its attention back to you. It vines wrapped themselves around you, suffocating you in a bone crushing grip. One hooked itself around your neck like a python, coiling tighter and tighter until you felt as though your head might fall off from your body. Eskel cocked his head and studied you closely, his eyes twinkled. No amount of yelling or distraction could draw his attention away from you. He was hooked, conflicted between wanting to kill you and wanting help. 

“Eskel…” You wheezed, “Please…stop.”

You were completely unaware of the distressed calls of the other witchers and the hum of Geralt's sword as he cast a spell over it, causing it to glow white hot. You were absorbed by the face of your brother as the branches tightened around your body. Your lungs burned and you tried to suck in air, much to the protest of your ribs, which cracked and shifted uncomfortably. It was when that coppery taste flooded your senses and blood fell from your mouth that you stopped struggling. Your vision blurred as you choked, gasping and spluttering. Your ears rang and white spots obscured your vision as you stared blankly up at Eskels face. When Geralt drove his sword into the leshy’s heart, your body slumped to the floor.

“Y/N!” Geralt was quick to your side, rolling you over to face him, agitating the raw wound on your shoulder. You cried out in pain.

“Shh, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. “ he hushed, taking you in. He eyed nervously the blood that was seeping from your mouth and ears, some streaming down your nose. There were angry bruises already forming on your neck and winding around your body. As your spluttering began to cease, your eyes began to flutter shut.

“No. No, no, no, no. Keep those eyes open.” Geralt pleaded. You whimpered as he pulled you into his arms, holding you securely to his body. Your head lolled against him as your eyes fluttered. You missed his call to Vesemir, who led Geralt down the hall. You missed the anxious calls of your brothers, who were aghast to see your condition. You didn’t see the way that Geralt’s face contorted at your pained whimpers and the scattering of people trying to make room for you. You missed it all as you slipped into unconsciousness.

~~~

When you awoke and your eyes had adjusted to the light, the first thing you were aware of was the dull pain that radiated throughout your body. A throbbing ache mixed with a sharp stabbing pain. The second was the anxious, golden eyed stare of Geralt of Rivia. 

“You’re awake.” He whispered, as though he were trying to convince himself. 

You groaned as you tried to sit up, ignoring the pain in your shoulder and across your ribs. There was still a slight wheeze to your breath. 

“Easy,” He told you. “You took quite a beating.”

Your voice cracked as you spoke, dry from lack of water. “How long…?”

“A few days. We had to lace you with elixirs…” Geralt sighed deeply. “You had us so worried, Y/N.”

“I’m sorry.” You muttered. In that moment, you remembered something, like someone had turned on a light. “Eskel?”

Geralt shook his head. “Gone. I’m sorry.”

You nodded solemnly. You knew that the chances of saving him were slim, through a rough tear spilled from your eyes. 

“It’s okay.” Geralt placed a hand on your shoulder that wasn’t covered by a bloodied bandage. “It’s okay. We still have each other. We have our brothers. We will be okay.”

————

[inexplicifics]

Oooh if you are still taking cozytober prompts, 1 borrowing a sweatshirt for Geralt/Eskel

Eskel is sliding the eggs out of the pan onto a pair of mismatched plates when he hears Geralt coming down the stairs. He grins to himself, setting the pan down and reaching for a pair of oven mitts so he can get the bacon out of the oven. Geralt likes to sleep in when he can, but the smell of bacon and eggs never fails to rouse him.

Eskel puts the pan of bacon down on the stove and turns to tease Geralt about his laziness, and loses his breath all at once, because Geralt is leaning against the kitchen doorway in a pair of ratty old boxers and Eskel’s sweatshirt, the faded grey Kaedweni Wolves one he got as a gift years and years ago and has worn to perfect softness. It’s overlarge on Geralt - Geralt is leaner than Eskel is, a scant inch shorter, just enough to be noticeable - and it hangs a little loosely, the cuffs around his palms instead of his wrists. His pale hair is mussed and his eyes are half-lidded and sleepy and he is the loveliest thing Eskel has ever seen.

“Fuck, Wolf,” Eskel breathes.

Geralt gives him a shy, sweet smile. “You don’t mind? It smells like you.”

“Mind? Fuck no.” Eskel drops the oven mitts and crosses the kitchen in two quick strides, catching Geralt in a tight embrace. The sweatshirt is soft and Geralt fits perfectly into his arms the way he always does, curls his arms around Eskel’s waist and nuzzles against his shoulder, and Eskel buries his nose in Geralt’s hair and tries to memorize this perfect moment.

It can’t last, of course, but what breaks it is Geralt’s stomach rumbling, and they step apart laughing. Eskel catches Geralt’s face in his hands and kisses his husband softly and thoroughly, then nips at the tip of Geralt’s nose and dodges away before Geralt can retaliate.

“Asshole,” Geralt grumbles.

“Is that any way to talk to the man who made you breakfast?” Eskel teases.

“Hm.” Geralt considers that while Eskel piles bacon on each plate and fishes the toast out of the toaster. “Yes.”

Eskel barks a laugh, and Geralt steps up behind him, winding his arms around Eskel’s waist and resting his head between Eskel’s shoulder blades. Eskel sighs and wraps his hands around Geralt’s forearms, leaning back just a little and enjoying the warmth and closeness.

“Eggs’re getting cold,” he says at last.

“Hm,” Geralt says, and squeezes him tightly for a moment before letting go and taking a plate. Eskel pours them both coffee and brings his own plate over to the table by the window, settling across from Geralt and tangling their legs together under the table. Geralt grins and salutes him with a half-eaten piece of bacon. He’s shoved the sweatshirt’s cuffs down to bare pale, lean forearms, and Eskel reaches across the table to catch his hand and draw it close so he can press a kiss to the thin, tender skin on the underside of Geralt’s wrist.

“Sap,” Geralt murmurs.

“Yeah,” Eskel agrees, straightening up and letting go of Geralt’s arm.

Geralt’s eyes are very soft. “Love you,” he says, simple and easy the way he always does. Like it’s a fact of life: the sky is blue, water flows downhill, and Geralt loves him.

“Always, Wolf,” Eskel replies.

(Or HERE on AO3!)