#eskel deserves better

[thesleepy1]

The Fighter And The Bard In Training

A/N: @shit-i-say-shit-i-think requested a fic where Eskel brings a mother of two back to the keep. Again, repeating theme we have here. A theme that I am completely ready to embrace because it is so damn soft. I just can’t with the wholesomeness. This fic right here? The one you’re about to read? Pure fluff. You’re welcome. Unbeta’d because we die like my heart after reading fluffy fics. 

Pairings: Eskel x Reader, slight Jaskier x Geralt

Summary: After years together, Eskel finally decides it is time for you and your children to meet his side of the family. You two had only put it off until your youngest was old enough to handle the travel but since arriving at the keep, you didn’t know why you didn’t bring them along sooner. They loved it. 

Or, “Can I please request an Eskel x reader where he brings his lady back to Kaer Mohren with her two kids?”

Word count: 3,047

Warnings: none that I know of

Astry was getting too big to be held in your arms but you had yet to complain. You wanted to cherish these moments for as long as you could because just the week before you had been nursing her. It still did not connect in your head how seven years had passed since you had to breast her. These few moments where she allowed you to carry her were memories that you would hold dear for years to come. 

Your son, Stokrotka, was a different story entirely. The boy would be thirteen by the end of winter and he, unlike his younger sister, always sought out your physical attention. No matter if it had been a long day out running chores for the neighbors or a simple ache in his skin, he turned to you for a hug. You thought he would grow out of it but years passed and yet he returned time and time again. 

Once more, no complaints here. 

As you stood in the front halls of Kaer Morhen, Stokrotka to your left, Astry in your arms, and Eskel to your right; you could not feel more grateful for the family you had built. You and Eskel had been together for years but merely decided to hold off the trip until Astry was older. Now that she was old enough to make the trek up the mountain path, she and Stokrotka could finally meet their Pa’s family. 

Vesemir was the first to greet you. You had only spoken with him through letters, his scratchy quill marks so unlike his voice when he said, “For such a dirty mouth through letters, I thought you would be taller.” ‘

You chuckled at him, already in love with the father of your husband. “Surprisingly enough, I get that one quite a bit.” You gave him a knowing wink, “Though I try to keep it down around the little ones.” 

Vesemir smiled and although he and Eskel were not related by blood, you could see the resemblance in the spark in their eyes. He turned to peer at Stokrotka and Astry, the two unusually quiet. They knew they had nothing to be afraid of in witchers. However, it could be Vesemir’s natural aura which made people want to please him that kept the children silent.

“I’ve heard much about you two through the letters,” he spoke in a tone matching his grin. “This little one must be Stokrotka and the lad, Astry?” 

“I’m Stokrotka and that’s Astry, actually,” Stokrotka’s matter of fact reply broke the tension. Astry erupted into a fit of giggles at Vesemir’s mistake. She wriggled free from your arms, your reflexes the only thing that prevented her from being dropped as her quick feet hit the cobblestone floors. She ran the short distance from Vesemir and bounced up and down as if she had not spent most of the day trekking up a mountain. 

“You raised my Pa, right?” she asked with an infectious smirk. Eskel stood back with you to watch the interaction. A fond expression was on his face as Vesemir nodded and Astry beamed. “That makes you my Grandpa, yeah?” 

“If you’d have me, I'd be happy to take up the job.” 

*****

The next two people who had greeted you were Coen and Lambert. Two men that clearly had never interacted with children. When they first saw Stokrotka and Astry, they had greeted your children politely and returned to their game of gwent. Astry, who had never seen the game before, quickly took to watching their game to try to understand its rules. 

She was seven and still struggled to read so she didn’t get very far. 

Coen took pity on her and tried his best to explain to her the rules. Stokrotka nodded to himself as if making sure that Coen was correct even though the witcher had been alive and playing the game long before he was born. The boy had only ever played with you and Eskel when he woke up from nightmares. The game was a distraction from his thoughts. Eskel always let Stokrotka win and your son had never once beat you in a fair game. You were just too good. And you knew the boy could use a challenge to keep his mind off of things. 

Despite Stokrotka’s nodding approval and Coen’s friendly demeanor, nothing seemed to have stuck with Astry. You saw that she was far too interested in the pictures on the cards then any game mechanics. 

“You know I learned the game after a good pint or two of white gull,” Lambert took a large gulp of his drink just to prove his point. 

“Can I have some?” 

You laughed at Astry’s innocent inquiry but the smile quickly left your face as Lambert shrugged and handed her the tankard. Coen did nothing to stop her. All he did was jokingly request her to save Lambert some. 

Before your daughter could be possibly poisoned by such strong alcohol you snatched the tankard right from her hands. “Alright, I think that’s enough with playing with Uncle Coen and Uncle Lambert.” You set the tankard down far from the edge of the table and turned to stir your children away. Eskel led them away with a stern look to his brothers. You whipped back around and pointed to the two witchers. “Your babysitting privileges are revoked until I feel like you can keep my children safe.” 

“I had white gull when I was your boy’s age and I turned out fine,” Lambert brushed you off nonchalantly. 

“You thinking that just proves her point.”

***** 

Yennefer and Ciri were also wintering at the keep as well. The two were in the courtyard when you and Eskel went off to train. Astry sat on Eskel’s shoulders, her little hands gripped tightly on his hair to steer him one way or the other. Eskel did not seem to mind the stings of pain. His hand merely held onto Astry’s ankles to prevent her from falling. 

Stokrotka had opted to stay in the library as per his fashion. Whether he had hid away in the large hall to read or to practice on his oud without anyone to hear, you weren’t quite sure. Either way, you had allowed him to run from the prospect of running drills without complaint. The boy had different interests than you and his sister and that was alright. 

Ciri was training as well. Only she didn’t play with wooden swords like you and Astry. She held a heavy silver sword in her hand, slashing and tearing through the straw dummies like they had personally offended her. Astry stood to the side, as per your request, and watched in awe. She had seen Eskel train before but Ciri had a very different fighting style. One that had Astry gasping and oohing out loud. 

“I want to try!” Astry exclaimed, watching as Ciri chopped off a dummy’s head in one clean swipe. 

“Perhaps when you’re older,” Yennefer replied with a smile that lacked any condescension. She, unlike Lambert and Coen, had some common sense in her. “I think it's best to start out with those wooden swords. That’s what your father began with.” 

“Really?” Astry was clearly skeptical. She peered up at Eskel as if daring him to lie to her. You chuckled into your hand at the sight, the witcher’s heightened senses hearing without comment. Eskel let go of your hand and kneeled down to Astry’s level.

“Ciri began with training weapons as well,” Eskel explained to his daughter. “But with practice and patience, she managed to hone her skills to be able to use a real sword without harming herself.” Eskel laid a gentle hand on Astry’s shoulder. “If you want to, you’ll get there someday.” 

Astry’s dark eyes lit up like fireworks. She looked at Eskel as if he were the bright sparks of colors himself. “I could be a witcher?!” 

Everyone laughed at her excitement. Astry bounced on the tip of her toes, her smile taking up most of the space on her face. Ciri paused in her training to walk over to Astry. Amusement was evident on the face of Geralt’s daughter. The two silver haired witchers had the same smug smile that you were tempted to wipe off if you had been on the end of it. 

“Yennefer here is teaching me how to be a mage as well.” 

Somehow, Astry’s eyes grew twice as large. 

*****

By nightfall of the third night, the children had explored the whole keep. Some of the rooms were restricted for their safety but they were allowed to peer in to know the reason why. Some of them lacked stable foundations while others had gaping holes in the walls that led straight off the cliff’s edge. Other safer rooms were left with their doors open for the children’s enjoyment. 

On occasion when Ciri had finished her training early, she would join them. Although she had been in the keep much longer, she enjoyed the adventure with your children. You could spot them running through the stone hallway from time to time. Eskel would talk of how he caught them riding down staircases on discarded mattresses. The three of them quickly grew as friends and as partners in crime. 

“I’m going to kill them,” you told Eskel flatly one night as the two of you were getting ready for bed. He poked his head out behind the divider and looked at you with affection. “Don’t give me that look. I really am going to kill those three.” 

“What did the children do now?” 

“They found a way to sneak in Lil’ Bleater and her…special surprises.” 

Eskel stalked closer to you. His chest was bare due to the interruption while he was undressing. Scars littered his tone chests, his muscles rippling with his calm breath. You tried to keep your eyes on his but failed. The sheer size of his torso momentarily made you forget your troubles with the children. 

Eskel coughed in disgust which drew you back to the conversation at hand. “I understand your sudden murderous intent.” Eskel pinched his nose shut, a playful smile at the edge of his cleft lips. “Lil’ Bleater’s surprises are known for their…potency. Perhaps you should venture down to the hot springs.” 

“You have no sympathy for me, do you, Eskel?” 

Eskel kissed you briefly with a teasing smile, “Not an ounce my dear.” 

*****

Besides the children’s antics, there was another stable in Kaer Morhen. Every afternoon Stokrotka would shut the library doors tight and play his oud. No one was allowed in without his explicit permission and even then, he would refuse to play in front of anyone. If questioned, he would merely answer, “It’s not quite finished yet. I still need to practice. Perhaps later.” Later typically meant never with the boy. 

But if one happened to be a witcher and a supportive father, one may or may not be able to catch chords and lyrics while passing the closed library. 

And specifically, who those lyrics address. 

It was not news to you that Stokrotka was a fan of all the famous bards: Drogodar of Cintra, Essi Daven of Cidaris, Le Papillon of Toussaintois, Callonetta of Kovir, and Valdo Marx of Cidaris. You knew far too much of them despite not being a bard yourself. Stokrotka spoke of them whenever someone had gained his trust. 

Eskel knew of them as well but Stokrotka’s favorite bard must have slipped his mind because he only realized then he knew the man. The way Stokrotka spoke of the bard was a tad idealized but Eskel was not going to stop the boy from having a harmless crush. Stokrotka could sing of cornflower blue eyes, brunette locks, and rugged jaw all he wanted. Eskel was a good father and all good fathers want only happiness for their children. 

Though, at times a little embarrassment never hurt no anyone. 

****** 

Geralt arrived usually late this year. He told the keep he had been caught up in some far off lord’s affair. For a man who complained of not wanting to get involved in human affairs, he tended to gravitate towards them. At the end of the day, all he had to show of them was a bad repudiation to some and a couple new scars. The coin was rarely ever good when stingy lords were involved. 

No matter Geralt’s poor choice in contracts, you and Eskel greeted him with kindness. Eskel with the hug of brothers and you with the embrace of close friends. The children were no longer hesitant about new guests among the keep. If one could make up the mountain trails with a smile on their face then they must be a friend of the wolf witchers. 

Astry gave Geralt a running hug much to the amusement and slight jealousy of the other witchers. She did not see any of the witchers as scary monster hunters. In the span of several weeks, the men had become her uncles. Uncle Geralt was just a late addition. 

“You look just like my Pa,” Astry exclaimed with excitement at the discovery. “You two look just alike. Are you twins?” 

Geralt laughed at Astry’s expression. He thought fondly of how Ciri used to look at him the same way when she was Astry’s age. “We trained at the same time but we aren’t twins,” Geralt explained to the now defeated looking Astry. 

“But you look just like twins, Uncle Geralt.” 

“The pretty boys act just alike,” Lambert exclaimed, “They’re the only two that got tied down by marriage.” 

Eskel approached his younger brother, clenching and relaxing his fists as he did so. “I wouldn’t call it being tied down, Lambert. I like to refer to it as finding someone that can put up with me. Someone that loves me for who I really am.” Eskel smiled at Lambert but it was not one of his brotherly ones. “Have you found someone like that?” 

“I prefer the freedom of prostitutes, personally.”  

“What’s a prostitute?” Astry asked and Stokrotka had taken that as his cue to leave for the library for the night. On any other occasion, Eskel would allow him to sneak off but tonight he had a surprise in store. 

“Something that I will explain to you once you’re older,” Eskel avoided the question, guiding Stokrotka back into the room. “Why don’t you go and meet Uncle Geralt?” Eskel addressed his son. 

“We met in the courtyard. He seems like a very nice man.” Stokrotka tried to push past Eskel but the older witcher was not budging to the boy who played with ouds as opposed to swords. “Please Pa, I did my niceties. May I please go?” 

“Don’t you want to show Uncle Geralt’s husband your new songs?” 

Before Stokrotka even knew who Eskel was citing, the lad was shaking his head in a firm no. Your boy did not like to share his work with anyone, whether that be his own mother or his uncle’s husband. It seemed like truly no one was allowed to hear his songs. 

“You’re a bard?” Geralt asked curiously with an expression that Stokrotka could not read. 

“In training, yes,” Stokrotka stated with his usual practical tone. 

“Why don’t you share your lyrics with me? I may know a thing or two about poetry. I traveled with a bard for decades.” 

Stokrotka looked at Geralt with skepticism. He peered up at the silver haired witcher and both you and Eskel knew what was about to happen. You could practically see Stokrotka’s mouth quiver with his need. “I mean this in the lowest form of offense but I don’t think just any traveling bard is able to compare to the teachings of the greatest bard on the continent. Ma gifted me with a print of Jaskier’s book years ago and his genius is simply unmatched. I know my songs need work just as nothing is truly perfect, however, I prefer to work alone as opposed to in pairs. Thank you for your offer, dear uncle, but I must politely decline.”

Stokrotka turned to address you and Eskel. You knew you hid your laughter poorly but the boy did not comment on your red faces. The others in the room were faring only marginally better. Yennefer had to silently threaten to ban Ciri from the room if she did not at least try to hide her crackle. Stokrotka ignored everyone and spoke in the voice of a begrudging diplomat. “If my parents deem it acceptable I will like to retire to the library where I will hopefully be uninterrupted. Is this arrangement agreeable with everyone?” 

“You’re retiring already?” came a voice from behind Stokrotka. “I would have liked to at least read your song book if you were not ready to perform them. I love seeing the work of budding new artisans.” 

Stokrotka shifted on his heel once more to reiterate his statement to the newcomer but for once, he was rendered speechless. The man in front of Stokrotka was the spitting image of the sketch of the continent's most famous bard, a sketch that Stokrotka kept in his oud case among his most prized possessions. His cornflower blue eyes, brunette locks, and rugged jaw were just as the sketch and tales had told of. They were perhaps more beautiful in person. 

Stokrotka stood with his mouth agape. 

“May I have the honor of seeing your work?” Jaskier asked the boy kindly. 

“Y-yes, of course, Jask—I mean sir. Yes, sir. Wait right here. Let me bring you my book and my oud.” With that Stokrotka rushed off to the library and the hall erupted into howls. The whole room shook with the combined laughter of witchers, mage, and man. Only Jaskier stood without a lively roar.  

“Laugh all you may want but that boy is among the politer of the bards in training that I have met.” Jaskier pulled you and Eskel into a warm embrace. He greeted you and you greeted him properly in turn. Astry wanted in on the affection and he honored her request in kind. Jaskier looked to you and Eskel and said, “You two have raised good children.” You knew he meant every word of it too. 

#geralt x julian #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #eskel witcher #eskel #eskel x reader #eskel fluff #eskel my beloved #eskel imagine #eskel deserves better #ciri #vesemir #the witcher books #geralt #witcher lambert #the witcher #reader #reader insert #x reader #the witcher geralt #the witcher 3 #the witcher fanfiction #toss a coin to your witcher #witcher #witcher games #witcher geralt #witcher jaskier #witcher fanfiction #twn #lambert

[flightsfancy22]

Just posted two new chapters for Spellbound, my big epic Eskel/Jaskier TWN Season 2 fix-it fic.

If you enjoy a good forced-marriage trope, or road trip stories with masculine pining, rogue wizards, spies, spectral turtles, and knee pad jokes, please check it out! It’s a lot of fun!

#the witcher netflix #the witcher fanfiction #eskel/jaskier #eskel deserves better #my fanfic writing #spellbound

[vulpinesaint]

oh my GOD this thing is long. everybody go read my season 2 kaer morhen rewrite <3 we are bringing horror atmosphere and emotional catharsis and eskel content and there's more to come! it's a party bring all your friends

#this thing is just an increasingly long hate letter to twn. fuck that shit. ciri gets bonding time with the witchers as a treat #featuring ciri pov + eskel alive + no misogynist lambert!! and it Is well-written i prommy. #do people want little excerpts in fic promo posts?? #like this isn't really a promo. like it is but not really. #but in actual promo posts. are excerpts better or just concept explanations? what are the people looking for? #i can provide references. i'll get letters of recommendation. what does it take #ik the fandom's a teeny bit dead nd people do Not read gen fics that much so it is what it is though haha #alright. promo tags now. you can disregard the rest of this #the witcher #witcher netflix #witcher fanfiction #witcher fanfic #witcher fandom #geralt of rivia #the witcher netflix #cirilla of cintra #cirilla fiona elen riannon #geralt and ciri #witcher eskel #eskel deserves better #<— good tag that's correct #vesemir #witcher lambert #kaer morhen #kaer morons #witcher coen #fanfic #geralt #twn critical #twn

[rogue205]

Way late to the party but I am still PISSED about how badly Eskel was both done dirty and absolutely wasted as a character in Netflix’s Witcher. They also seemed to realize that they forgot(for non-book readers) to show just HOW MUCH Eskel meant to Geralt so they also threw in that little “flashback” which also did nothing.

Will I ever stop being salty as fuck about that?

Nope. Not a chance.

That killed the show for me. That and how crappy Jaskier is also handled. I didn’t bother with season three.

#one episode #ONE episode is all we got #and he was thrown away like he meant nothing to the damn plot #and to Geralt and how interacting with him helped Ciri evolve as a character #I will also never get over how they took samples from him then just… #threw his body to the wolves #like WTF?!?!?! #wtf is that?! #Eskel #witcher eskel #anti netflix witcher #Netflix Witcher critical #Eskel deserved better #my rants #*cough* I’m good (for now)

[miscfandomgifimagines]

Imagine Eskel introducing you to his brothers

You had been with Eskel for sometime now but it was finally time to meet his family. You were nervous as you approached the keep. You took a breath and remembered all the stories Eskel had told you about them.

“Ready Y/n?” Eskel glances at you and gives a small smile. 

“As ready as I’ll ever be!”  You gave a small laugh.

Eskel pushes open the heavy door and you’re greeted with a roar of voices. Eskel starts hugging the men left and right and begins to introduce you to his family.

#eskel #soft eskel #witcher eskel #eskel witcher #basil #basil eidenbenz #eskel basil eidendbenz #eskel basil #eskel x reader #eskel imagines #witcher #witcher s 2 #witcher season 2 #eskel season 2 #witcher x reader #witcher imagines #witcher imagine #eskel imagine #eskel gif #eskel deserved better #eskel gifs #basil eidenbenz gif #witcher netflix #witcher boys #witcher family #witcher wholesome

[cosmos-coma]

On the Dawn of Love

A/N: I totally wasn’t shedding a few tears as I wrote this and this totally doesn’t show how hopelessly romantic I am.

Pairing: Eskel x Reader

Words: 650

Summary: You and Eskel spend a quiet morning in the inn and you confess your love to the morning air.

Dawn fluttered through the inn’s window on airy and quiet wings as you watched the colors of the sun begin to paint the earth once again. The smell of breakfast being cooked downstairs crept its way up the stairs and to your nose, calling you softly to it. The distant song of birds drifted through the air outside and soft, silent breaths came from the Witcher curled protectively around you.

You two had gotten into town late last night, ever thankful for the room and warm meal you were able to snag from the local inn. It had been a long week of difficult contracts and subpar weather and it was beginning to weigh on both of you, though mostly Eskel. But now it looked like you two would be getting a break from your mediocre luck and perhaps even a chance to turn it around.

Though you had found it difficult to sleep in the early hours this morning, you wouldn’t have traded these moments for the world. Moments where you miraculously find your Witcher in much-needed deep sleep. it was a rare moment absolutely, only having happened a handful of times since you joined Eskel on the path; when he was either very run down or finally felt safe enough.

Carefully you moved to sit up, shifting to accommodate as Eskel’s head naturally moved to rest in your lap. Just the sight of him pulled a warm smile from your lips, but to capture him in such a tender moment? Tugged on your heart in a way you could barely recognize.

Your fingers reached down to brush against his cheek, not unlike the sun’s rays as they reached into the valleys they knew so well. Your finger pads just grazed his cheek, running in line with his jagged scars to test the waters of his sleep. To your luck he stayed pleasantly asleep, huffing out a deep breath as you attempted to pull your hands back.

A light chuckle escaped you and you quickly abided and put your hand back on his cheek, enjoying the ease that overcame him once again. And so quietly you sat, admiring your lovely witcher and gracing him with only the most loving of touches.

You brushed his hair out of his face, fingers continuing to run their course past his cheek and through his dark hair. Leaning down you brushed your lips against his forehead, “I love you, I love you, I love you…” you whispered passionately against his skin, willing the words into his very being. “My handsome witcher, my sun, my sky…” you sighed contently, your warm breath tickling his skin as you said it.

You always did your best to tell Eskel how much he meant to you, at least once a day in some way or another, but in times like this, your words came spilling out of you like water.

“Do you know what you mean to me..?” you spoke into his hair now as you pressed a tender kiss to his sleeping head. “Do you know the gravity your words carry? Your touch..?” you sighed again happily, “Every rumble of your voice calls me home to you, every look of your honey eyes makes my heart flutter in my chest. Do you know what you do, or does it all come naturally to you?”

You pressed one more kiss to your sleeping witcher, his slightly chapped lips a familiar comfort against your own. “Eskel, my beloved. I’ll spend the rest of my life showing you what you mean to me… if only it means you understand a fraction of the love I feel for you in this very moment.”

A morning like this was something you could never forget- and neither would your witcher who had woken up some minutes ago but stayed silent so he could hear you whisper your words to the morning air.

__________________

Taglist: @open--till--midnight @writingmysanity @dark-academia-slut @madamemelancholysstuff

#It's been a tough morning #but watching the sunrise made it so much better #Eskel deserves nice things #Eskel #Witcher Eskel #eskel x reader #eskel x you #eskel x y/n #eskel x reader fluff #eskel imagine #The witcher fic #the witcher fanfiction #witcher self insert #self insert #eskel fluff #fluff #soft eskel

[jaybren]

Jaskier and New Geralt

I am of the belief that Cavill is leaving because of the way the writers have screwed up some very important aspects of both the games and the books.

MOST IMPORTANT being Geralt's relationship with Jaskier.

Both book!Geralt and game!Geralt love that funky, feral bard. Geraskier fan or not -- they are, at minimum, platonic soulmates for life.

Point being, Cavill left because the writers didn't let him show that despite Joey being an AMAZING Jaskier.

#joey is amazing #but yeah I won't be able to take Liam seriously as Geralt #Seriously Joey had more chemistry with Anya than Cavill #He had more chemistry with EVERYONE #probably the one in character part of the whole damn show #well him and Roach #Roach was pretty decent #this Tumblr firmly believes Cavill would return if he and Joey could be true to the books idiot best friends/platonic soulmates #I also believe Netflix and the writers quickly realized their chemistry was TOO GREAT compared to Anya's and Cavill's #And led to the Season 2 OT3 attempt #But they did Jaskier a disservice #Did Geralt a disservice #The apology was the perfect time to give Jaskier a silver dagger #To show Geralt thinking about him and missing his best friend and wanting to see him #they could have had Geralt get the dagger made but then talk with Eskel about how Jaskier was safer without him #ALSO NETFLIX I'm still pissed about Eskel #I loved Eskel #Big sweetheart Eskel who deserved better #also it would be hilarious if Henry Cavil said that he left The Witcher because they wouldn't let him and Joey kiss #I'm just saying #new geralt #why Henry Cavill left #Give me that Onion article of Henry Cavill leaving because of lack of Geraskier cuddles #If the Onion asked I would write it #realized I posted without any actually useful tags #geralt #the witcher #joey batey #Henry cavill #anya chalotra

[honeywitchers]

"Any moment might be our last. Everything is more beautiful because we're doomed. You will never be lovelier than you are now. We will never be here again.”

— Achilles, Troy  (2004)

Netflix!Eskel x Leshen Death

#eskel #netflix!eskel #eskel moodboard #witcher #the witcher #witcher moodboard #eskel deserved better

[autistic-echo]

the thing i have the biggest beef with in the witcher netflix is the fact that the writers seem to. like. not like jaskier. like they make geralt be a dick to him “i’m not your friend” and then have geralt turn around and be friendly and affectionate with loads of other characters. moussack “old friend”, that flashback with eskel, “you’re important to me, triss” why can’t we get this same energy with jaskier. begging for a proper apology in season 3 that jaskier doesn’t have to basically fish out of geralt my dude deserves better

#i get that geralt is not good at communicating and was busy because of plot shit in s2 #but jaskier and geralt have know each other for over 20 years #jaskier has spent most of his adult life with geralt #(iirc jaskier was 18-20 ish when they met) #so for fucks sake pls show that geralt values jaskier and jaskiers friendship #please for the love of fuck #pls have geralt properly admit he was wrong and a dick #and stop having like almost every single character act like he’s annoying inconvenience #why do i always end up loving the comic relief character who is actually profoundly sad that the writers don’t seem to actually like #the witcher #jaskier #the witcher jaskier #geraskier #only sort of because i’m more pissed off at their whole dynamic from a platonic perspective #queer platonic geraskier #the way i feel about them cannot be explained by simple words like platonic or romantic #the witcher netflix

[bambirex]

Sunshine For The Sunshine

Pairing: Geraskier, Yennskier, Radskier

Characters: Jaskier/Dandelion, Geralt of Rivia, Yennefer of Vengerberg, Radovid, Cirilla of Cintra, Lambert, Eskel, Coen, Vesemir

Additional tags: fluff, tooth-rotting fluff, soft Jaskier, soft Geralt of Rivia, soft Yennefer of Vengerberg, snippets, poly Jaskier, everyone loves Jaskier, found family, past injury, handfeeding, Jaskier getting spoiled the way he deserves, no actual plot

Word count: 2,127

Chapters: 5/5

Summary: Jaskier being loved, spoiled and taken care of by everyone the way he deserves.

Author's notes: There's no plot here, these are just short fluffy chapters that are not connected at all. The new season is treating Jaskier a lot better already with people finally caring for him more, but it's still not enough for me so here we go, have some snippets of Jaskier being coddled like a kitten.

Read on Ao3

*

All Jaskier did was sneeze about two times before a giant mug of steaming cocoa was pushed into his hands.

He shot a questioning look up at Geralt, who was standing above him with several blankets in hand, looking deeply concerned.

“Okay, I am not that sick,” Jaskier chuckled. His voice was a little raspy as his throat itched. It was the beginning of an annoying cold, which sucked, but Geralt acted as if he suffered from some horrible, incurable disease. The witcher has been fussing around him like a mother hen in the past few days, from the moment Jaskier sniffled for the first time.

“You need to warm up,” Geralt told him softly. He draped the blankets over Jaskier, gently rubbing his shoulders to warm him. “I don’t want your condition to get worse.”

“My condition,” Jaskier snorted, “I just have a sore throat.”

“I just want you to be okay, Jask,” Geralt sat next to him on the bed. He pressed a kiss to the side of Jaskier’s head. Jaskier hid his smile in his mug.

Geralt continued to hold him as Jaskier took the first sip of his warm beverage, his arms wrapped around him protectively, shielding him from any discomfort. Jaskier let out a small sound of bliss, allowing himself to burrow deeper into Geralt’s hug.

“This is really nice,” Jaskier smiled as he rested his head against Geralt’s chest. He felt his eyes becoming droopy, both from the sickness and from how content and loved he felt. Geralt kissed the top of his head this time, nuzzling him like a large and very affectionate cat.

“I can get you some medicine from the town,” Geralt said. He pressed the back of his hand against Jaskier’s forehead to check his temperature. “You may not have a fever now, but I’m worried you will. How’s your head? Does it hurt? Your stomach?”

“I am getting overwhelmed with all this care,” Jaskier mused. He couldn’t wipe the satisfied grin off his face. “When did you become so gentle?”

Geralt hummed, pulling Jaskier closer until he sat halfway on the witcher’s lap. Geralt supported Jaskier’s hand that held the cup with his own, making sure he wouldn’t spill the sweet cocoa. With his other hand, he gently tilted Jaskier’s head towards him with his fingers hooked under his chin. Jaskier’s heart fluttered at the genuine kindness in Geralt’s eyes.

“I’ve met someone who changed me,” Geralt replied, and suddenly Jaskier’s throat didn’t ache because of the impending illness, but because of the way his whole heart leapt into it.

For the first time in his life, he found himself unable to say anything, so instead, he cocooned himself in Geralt’s embrace, his body and soul healing slowly.

**

Jaskier’s hand was okay now, but sometimes he felt those tiny phantom pains, like needles piercing his skin. It made him want to scratch and rub at his tingling palms, made him want to pull off dead skin and poke at the now healed, but forever deeply marred flesh.

It was hard to control his hand when a sensation like this flared up in his hands. His fingers trembled, refusing to cooperate when he tried to frame his eyes with kohl. Jaskier swore under his breath, frustrated tears welling up in his eyes.

He yelped when suddenly he felt a touch on his back. He whipped around to see Yennefer standing behind him.

“Gods above, witch,” Jaskier huffed, “you’ll kill me one day.”

“Maybe,” Yennefer shrugged. Her eyes fell on Jaskier’s hands, and a small smile twitched at her lips. It wasn’t a look of pity on her face, but one of genuine care – a kindness that Jaskier used to think did not exist in her. “Let me help you, first.”

“I’m good,” Jaskier waved a dismissive hand, which still shook treatorously. “I can do it myself.”

“I know you can,” Yennefer replied softly. She reached out her hand, waiting patiently, not crossing any boundaries, instead letting Jaskier decide for himself. “Just not now. Please, allow me, Jaskier.”

Jaskier bit his lip. He hated feeling so useless, but that was not what Yennefer implied; Jaskier could see it in her eyes, could hear it in her voice. She offered Jaskier a choice, wanting to take care of him genuinely but also respecting his autonomy at the same time.

With a sigh, Jaskier handed Yennefer the kohl. Yennefer gave him a small smile before she seated herself on his lap, gently tilting Jaskier’s face upwards with her hand. Jaskier felt his cheeks go warm under her ministrations as she so carefully brushed the eyeliner over his skin. She was careful not to poke him in the eye, working on his face with such precision as if Jaskier was one of her secret magic elixirs that required a lot of focus.

His lashes fluttered as Yennefer fixed a small smudge, wiping it off with her thumb gently before she went on to fill in the gap with the tip of the kohl.

Jaskier swallowed thickly as Yennefer pulled back, caressing his cheek gently.

“Pretty,” she said with genuine awe, before she leaned in to kiss him on the lips sweetly.

**

“No utensils? Thought this was a civilized place.”

Radovid chuckled as he lifted the tiny bite of whatever-it-was off Jaskier’s plate. He held it up close to his face, making Jaskier frown in confusion.

“Open up,” Radovid told him, his voice both sweet and commanding, and Jaskier, though hesitantly, did it, still not very sure of what was going on. The food was slipped between his lips gently, and he couldn’t help but let out a small gasp when the taste exploded on his tongue- savory, and just a little spicy.

“This is good,” he admitted. He barely had time to swallow before he was offered another bite. Jaskier’s cheeks flushed at the smirk that Radovid gave him.

“I can feed myself, you know.”

“I don’t want you to,” Radovid replied simply. He gave Jaskier his typical eyebrow raise that implied there was no place for an argument. “I am planning on spoiling you rotten, my sweet thing.”

Now, Jaskier was used to praises and seductive words, but somehow, the way Radovid said it- playful, but still sincere, flirty but with so much care, like he was truly intent on handfeeding Jaskier an entire course, made his stomach tingle with warmth. He bashfully opened his mouth for another bite, feeling a pleasant shiver run down his spine when Radovid wiped a bit of sauce off his chin with his thumb.

A cup of wine was held to his lips next, making Jaskier laugh.

“I can’t even drink alone?”

“What did I say about spoiling you?”

“Right,” Jaskier gave in with a sigh, but his lips curled into a pleased grin anyway. He let himself relax as Radovid held the rim of the cup against his lips, making him drink the sweet wine gently. It warmed Jaskier’s throat and stomach pleasantly.

He was offered tiny desserts next, and he had to admit, slipping into this feeling was easier than he thought. He was used to taking care of other people: lovers, friends, family, and now he was receiving the same care, being fed like a hungry little baby bird and showered with the affection he always craved.

Occasionally, between bites, Radovid caressed his cheek and whispered something sweet to him that made Jaskier nearly choke on his food, too overwhelmed all of a sudden. He closed his eyes in bliss, letting the taste of a strawberry fill his mouth, while love and gratitude filled his heart.

**

No one has ever insisted so aggressively that Jaskier shouldn’t lift a finger. He was usually nagged about making himself useful at last, and the change was very surprising.

He genuinely wanted to help out: Kaer Morhen was huge. There was a lot to clean up, and a lot of hungry mouths to feed, but he actually wasn’t allowed to do anything. He made an offended noise at the back of his throat when Lambert all but tore the mop out of his hand.

“Nuh-uh,” he grumbled, “no need.”

“You think I can’t use a mop?” Jaskier huffed. “I am not such a spoiled brat.”

“That’s not why,” Lambert chuckled, gently patting Jaskier on the head. “You should rest, songbird.”

“It’s already too generous you’re letting me winter here, I should help you out, at least!”

“We’re not letting you stay because we want to make you play maiden,” Eskel told him with a smile. He, much like the rest of the Kaer Morhen wolves, kept insisting he should rest, and rest, and then rest some more. It was actually him, that practically shoved Jaskier out of the kitchen because he dared try and help with cutting up the vegetables.

“We’re letting you stay, because you mean a lot to Geralt. And us.”

“Alright, but…” Jaskier trailed off, not very sure how to process what he’s just heard. Him? Meaning a lot to a horde of supernatural warriors?

“Well, at least let me organize the books in the library…”

“Already done,” Coen grinned at him. “I did it last night.”

“But… but I said I would…”

“Yeah, well, now you don’t have to,” Coen gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “The only thing you should focus on is getting some rest and composing some lovely songs. And keeping on making us happy with your presence.”

Now Jaskier was sure he was actually just imagining things, because there was no way Coen just implied that his mere presence brought such joy to the witchers – but when he looked at them, he saw Lambert grinning, and that sincere spark in Eskel’s eyes. Jaskier walked out of the kitchen in disbelief.

He tried getting himself some tasks in the stalls, where Vesemir flat out told him that if he didn’t go back inside from the freezing cold, he would ask Geralt to kick his ass.

“Why does no one want me to help?” Jaskier groaned. Vesemir chuckled softly.

“You already help, Jaskier,” he said, his voice warmer than what Jaskier has ever heard from him. “You already help an awful lot.”

Jaskier didn’t even try to ask what he meant. He stumbled back inside the keep, his heart swelling with so many emotions inside his chest.

**

The last note rang out, and the crowd erupted into cheers. The clapping was so loud, it was almost deafening. Jaskier grinned widely before he took a bow, the ecstasy of a well-done performance strumming in his veins.

“That’s my uncle!” Ciri yelled, her cheeks pink with excitement. She stood on top of a table, ignoring Yennefer’s pleas to get off. “He belongs to us!”

Jaskier laughed in disbelief. A couple decades ago, he played in this exact tavern. He was met with disdain then, was pelted with bread and tomatoes, and no one has wanted anything to do with him. And now, the crowd was going wild, singing him praises and practically bowing before him as he made his way over to the table in the corner. At that table, sat the three most important people in his life, people who weren’t always the nicest to him, but who loved him with all their hearts now. People who were proud to declare him a part of their family.

“That was incredible, Jaskier,” Geralt said with a smile. No more fillingless pie, just incredible. Jaskier sighed happily, gladly taking the gentle shoulder squeeze from Geralt.

“Our bard,” Yennefer said with a grin, gently bopping Jaskier on the nose. Jaskier stuck his tongue out at her playfully, but the loud beating of his heart exposed him. Ciri all but jumped into his arms, wrapping her arms tight around his neck as she hugged him tight.

“You have to teach me to play, one day,” she said excitedly, still squeezing Jaskier. “How are you so talented?”

“Well, having such a lovely audience always helps,” Jaskier replied earnestly. He gently ruffled Ciri’s hair. “Besides, you’re already too powerful. What would happen if we also trained you to be a bard?”

“She would be like you,” Yennefer said softly. She gently brushed a sweaty lock out of Jaskier’s face. “And that’s not even such a bad thing.”

“Not at all,” Geralt chimed in. He gently stroked Jaskier’s back, making him melt into his touch. “So, where do you want to go celebrate?”

“Wherever you go,” Jaskier replied, his grin nearly splitting his face, the same way his heart nearly burst through his chest. “I wanna celebrate with my family.”

“Sounds lovely,” Yennefer grinned. “Our favorite poet is choosing us!”

Ciri hugged him again, and Jaskier blinked against the happy tears in his eyes.

Favorite. Incredible. Loved.

#the witcher fanfiction #the witcher fic #my fic #geraskier #yennskier #radskier #jaskier #votes called for this so here it is

[bethdutten]

I have been reading 'out of the woods' over and OVER AND OVER again! It's so healing 😭 Could I request how they met and got together? Or some more kaer morhen fluff? Or both? I can't get enough of your writing about eskel! 😍

aww thank you!! definitely 😊 here’s how they got together, maybe i’ll do some from after OOTW later 😉

Eskel still doesn’t understand how he managed to land a girl like you. Especially considering the circumstances you met. It was when he got the scars on his face after a fight with a striga, near Redania. He would have bled out if not for you, a mage out collecting plants in the woods where he was attacked.

You took him in, saved his life. He thought he might have had a chance before the attack, before the disfiguring scars turned him into a monster. But he assumed you wouldn’t give him a chance, just send him on his way when he was healed enough. But that wasn’t the case.

“Sweetheart, eat,” you ordered softly, glancing at Eskel out of the corner of your eye. He was just staring down at his bowl of stew, spoon untouched, while you organized jars containing the medicine for his wounds.

He was almost completely healed, his face marred with deep, angry red scars but the fear of infection gone now. After four months, you’d gotten close to the witcher, quickly falling for him. But you knew he was just here until his injuries were healed, before he could go back on the Path. As much as it pained you to let him go, you expected it would have to end at some point.

Eskel blinked, eyes focusing back in on you as he watched you work. It was hard to eat when he felt so sick to his stomach at the idea of you kicking him out soon.

He knew it was coming. His face was healing, and he couldn’t stay here forever. Why you kept him around as long as you did, he wasn’t sure. But seeing you prepare the salve for his scars, packaged up for him to take when he left, felt like a sharp pain in his chest every time he thought about you kicking him out.

He was used to being taken care of, now. Eating meals together, often curling up beside each other in front of the fire at night, you calling him ‘sweetheart’ and ‘baby’, tenderly soothing his scars with your salves like they weren’t something to be afraid of—

How was he going to live without this?

“Eskel?” you brought him out of his thoughts again, a look of concern on your face.

He forced a smile on his face, ignoring the way it pulled at his lip in a way he knew made it look like a grimace. An ugly, horrifying monster, that’s what he was now. “Sorry, not very hungry.”

You sighed, abandoning your work and taking a seat beside him. You placed a hand on his forehead, sliding your palm down to cut the left side of his face as you observed him carefully. “You feel a bit warm… are you sure you’re ready to leave tomorrow?”

He nodded, the last thing he wanted to do. “I’ll be fine.”

“Okay… maybe you should go rest, love.” You wished you could protest, insist that he stay, but— he wanted to leave. You couldn’t make him stay.

“Yeah,” Eskel agreed, ignoring the way his heart fluttered at the endearment. He rested his hand on top of yours, pulling it off his face and squeezing it gently before he stood.

You swallowed at you watched him head towards the bedroom, wishing you just had the courage to tell him how you felt.

Meanwhile, Eskel laid in your bed and wrapped himself in your blanket, breathing in your scent deeply and willing back the ache in his chest. Who would want him looking like this? He knew the chances of someone like you loving someone like him would be slim beforehand, but now— you deserved better.

After an hour or so, you finished packing up a bag for him to take in the morning. You wished you could go with him, watch out for him while he was on the Path. A witcher could use a mage, but he didn’t ask you to go with him.

You put a few more logs in the fire, gathering up an extra blanket to take to Eskel before you would go to sleep. But upon walking into the spare room, where Eskel slept since you brought him in, you were surprised to find it empty. You immediately panicked, thinking he might have left early. Wouldn’t he at least say goodbye?

A low snore caught your attention, the noise coming from your own bedroom. You quietly opened the door, letting out a relieved chuckle at the image of Eskel buried under your blankets in your bed, hair mussed as he slept soundly. You knelt down, brushing an errand strand of hair away from his face, memorizing every detail as this would be the last time you had the chance.

He was beautiful. You didn’t think too much about what he must have looked like before the attack— it didn’t matter to you. The face he had now was the one you felt most familiar with, the one that already felt like home. You wouldn’t change a single thing. But more than that; he was gentle, and kind, and as much as you wish you could have saved him from the pain, you are thankful to that striga for bringing you to him. Before you could stop yourself, you leaned in and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

Eskel’s eyes fluttered open, and he sucked in a breath at the sight of your face so close to his. Your eyes widened, an apology on your lips before he smiled, that warm crooked grin you were so in love with.

“Hi,” he whispered, something in the way you were looking at him making his heart beat faster. Like you didn’t see a monster, like you were looking at someone you… loved.

You smiled back, deciding then and there you weren’t ready for him to leave. And if he left, you would go with him. “Hi. Eskel, could I… would you want me to join you on the Path?”

The grin slowly left his face, Eskel swallowing audibly. “I would love that.”

“Yeah?” You felt a spark of courage, licking your lips before you continued, “Because I… really care about you. I don’t want anything to happen to you again. I-I love you.”

You held your breath, waiting for his reaction. Eskel just stared for a few moments, not sure what he just heard. The scars on his face burned, reminding him of all the reasons someone like you would never want him, yet— here you were. Offering to be with him, take care of him.

Then he saw your face fall, a wash of sadness and rejection evident. He quickly reached out and grabbed your hand, not about to miss his chance.

“Yes! Yes, please. I want you to be with me. I-I want… to be with you. I love you, too.”

Your face lit up at his confession, leaning in and kissing him without a second thought. Eskel let out a sound of surprise, the feel of your lips of his warming his chest. He never thought anyone would want to kiss him now that he looked like this. He hoped no one else ever would, except you.

#eskel fluff #eskel drabble #eskel x you #eskel x reader #eskel fic #eskel #netflix!eskel #game!eskel

[anyanpre]

Geraskier ideas #2, pain edition:

What if instead of wishing for "peace and quiet", Geralt fucks it up with the djinn even more and goes "I wish we've never met" on Jaskier and accidentally retcons Jaskier out of his life.

And he either wastes his other two wishes before realizing what really happened, or doesn't have the wishes anymore due to timey-wimey shenanigans.

So Geralt is stuck, miserable and alone and without Jaskier.

He does think about finding Jaskier, but decides against it -- without him Jaskier is safe and happy and Geralt never deserved him anyway.

He can't stay in taverns when there's a bard, because it hurts too much. He barely cares about his wounds, because no one yells at him for getting too reckless. He's alone, as he should be.

He's fine, except he isn't.

And then the winter comes. And when Geralt gets to Kaer Morhen, Jaskier is there, with one of Geralt's brothers. Because of fucking course he is.

And, worst if all, Jaskier perfectly happy.

Geralt always knew that out of all of the wolves he was the worst one for Jaskier to get stuck with. He's an asshole and not the fun kind like Lambert. He isn't as nice and kind and fucking perfect like Eskel. And there is a proof of this right in front of him.

Jaskier is better off without him.

And it hurts.

He's a stranger to Jaskier, and it hurts so fucking much when Jaskier is right there.

And Geralt knows he can't undo his stupid wish, because he can't destroy this, even if he had the means to.

Everybody got what they deserved and Geralt truly believes in that moment that he deserves to be alone, that he never deserved Jaskier in the first place. That this is right, even if it hurts.

#geraskier #the witcher #geralt x jaskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #sorry but MY BRAIN IS LIKE THIS

[ghostinthelibrarywrites]

Hello! Can I request 24 and 26 for the prompt! Geraskier, please. Hope you feel better soon!

24. Going grocery shopping together

26. Encouraging them to finally buy that thing they definitely deserve to treat themselves to

“Oh good, Frosted Charms are on sale!” Jaskier picks up two boxes of the sugary, brightly colored cereal and tosses them into the cart.

Geralt sighs. “No, they’re not. One box is four crowns. The sign only says they’re two for eight crowns so you think you’re getting a deal.”

“Huh.” Jaskier takes a second look at the sign, sees that his boyfriend is right, and shrugs. “Oh, well, nothing stopping me from getting three boxes, is there?” He grabs a third box, grinning at Geralt. “What’s next on the list?”

“Since when are we following the list?”

Jaskier looks at the cart, which is surprisingly full, given that they only walked into the store to grab a few quick things. “Okay, I’ll follow the list perfectly from here on out.”

Geralt snorts. “Next is bread. You specify in parentheses that you want ‘the good shit.’”

“That’s because I’m making garlic bread to go with dinner. You need decent bread for that.”

“What’s dinner?”

“No idea! Maybe more garlic bread?”

Geralt sighs heavily, but his lips curl up at the corners as he steers the cart around and heads towards the bakery. He doesn’t say a word when Jaskier adds a family-sized pack of peanut butter cups to the cart, because all that witcher training has given him a keen sense for how to spot a losing battle. Jaskier hums to himself as they make their way through the bakery, selecting the most promising-looking loaf of bread before moving on. When he turns around, he finds Geralt eyeing the display of cakes, his gaze lingering on the carrot cake.

Jaskier loathes carrot cake with the burning fire of a thousand hells, especially when it has walnuts and raisins in it, as this one appears to, but Geralt is inexplicably fond of it. But Geralt is looking at the cake with the same wistfulness with which he used to look at Jaskier before they finally got their shit together, so Jaskier will endure the presence of raisins and walnuts in his home if it will make the man he loves happy. He leans around Geralt to snag the carrot cake and place it in the cart.

When he looks up at Geralt, he finds his boyfriend frowning down at him. “You hate carrot cake,” Geralt says.

“I do, as does everyone whose taste buds haven’t been ruined by drinking Lambert’s White Gull. What’s next?”

Geralt doesn’t look at the list, still watching Jaskier in faint bafflement. “Did you mean to get the chocolate mousse cake?”

“No.” Jaskier wonders if it would be overkill to buy two cakes, because that chocolate mousse cake does look good. “You like carrot cake and you were eyeing that cake like it was your long lost love.”

“I don’t need it.” Geralt picks the cake back up.

Jaskier puts a hand on his forearm. “Yes, but do you want it?”

Geralt just blinks at him. The thing about Geralt is that even though he thinks nothing of making sure all the people he loves—Jaskier, Ciri, Yennefer, his brothers, Roach—are happy and comfortable, he rarely extends that same care to himself. When Jaskier met him, the man didn’t even have a boxspring, just a mattress that sat in the middle of his bedroom floor. The most luxurious furnishing in his apartment was Roach’s memory foam cat bed. 

He’s come a long way since then, but sometimes they still run into these moments where Geralt doesn't see the point of treating himself softly. Everything must have a utilitarian purpose. Clothes are for covering his body, not to look or feel good in. Food is to keep him alive, not to enjoy. Sometimes, Jaskier thinks he would have made an excellent medieval monk. He used to think it was a witcher thing, until he met Eskel and Lambert, who have no problem treating themselves to the small luxuries. It seems to be a Geralt thing.

“Darling.” Gently, Jaskier takes the carrot cake out of his hands. “Look in the cart.”

Geralt glances down at the cart. “Okay?”

“How many of those things in there do we need?” When Geralt keeps looking puzzled, Jaskier continues. “I’m fully aware that three boxes of Frosted Charms, peanut butter cups, and garlic bread for dinner aren’t necessities in life, but I’ve had a long week and they make me happy. Just like the nice bottle of wine I’m going to go pick up next will make me happy. Do you begrudge me those little things?”

“No,” Geralt says. “Though Frosted Charms taste like stale piss.”

“Don’t distract me by slandering Frosted Charms.” Jaskier taps him on the nose. “Sometimes, you’re allowed to get things just because you like them, not because they serve a purpose. Look at Roach!”

That earns him an incredulous look. “What about Roach?”

“You got a cat because you wanted a cat to keep you company! She’s not a horse, so you can’t ride her. She’s not a dog, so she can’t guard the house. She’s not a goat that provides milk or a chicken that lays eggs. You got her because you love her and she makes you happy.”

“Are you comparing our cat to a carrot cake?”

Jaskier feels like he’s losing the thread here. “All I’m saying is that carrot cakes aren’t something we need, but you deserve to treat yourself once in a while. Even if your version of treating yourself is disappointment in cake form.”

“You just don’t like it because it has vegetables in it.”

“And I stand by it! Cake should not have vegetables. It’s an insult to Melitele, Lebioda, and also me.”

“Hm.” Geralt’s lips twitched. “If I buy the carrot cake, can we keep shopping? They close in four hours and I’d like to be home by then.”

Jaskier makes a face at him and puts the cake back in the cart. “Come on, what’s next on the list?”

“Meatballs,” Geralt says. “Because I’m not just having garlic bread for dinner, Jask. We’re not twenty anymore.”

“I can live with meatballs,” Jaskier says, looking forward to an evening of meatball-related innuendos that will horrify his boyfriend, but also get him laid, because Geralt secretly likes it when Jaskier is obnoxious.

They start away from the bakery section, Jaskier casting a longing glance over his shoulder at the vastly superior cakes they’re leaving behind.

Geralt stops in his tracks. “You want the chocolate mousse cake, don’t you?”

“Yes, but don’t you think two cakes is a bit ridiculous?”

“Since when does something being ridiculous stop you?”

Geralt knows Jaskier far too well. Dropping a kiss on his boyfriend’s cheek, Jaskier goes back to fetch the chocolate mousse cake. After all, it’s not enough to tell Geralt he should treat himself. It’s only right that Jaskier leads by example.

Also, he just really wants cake.

Domestic/Situation Relationship Prompts

Tag list: @kueble @mollymawkwrites @feral-jaskier @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde @dawnofbards @thisislisa @tsukiwolf42 @mosaicscale @rockysstupidity @fontegagrilledcheese @kuripon @help-i-need-a-cool-username @julek @flowercrown-bard @eveljerome

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt/jaskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #ghost's writing #prompt fills

[thewitcheress2389]

Hello! Is it possible for you to write something for Eskel using number 10 and 25? Eskel deserves much love 🥺❤️ Thanks! 💖💖 And, uh, if I wrote something incorrect, sorry for that 😅 My native language isn't English.

I love your works!

You're good! And you are right, Eskel deserves so much love💖💖

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The Beauty of The Broken

Eskel has always been insecure, but he doesn’t know all the time you take to admire him.

#10 “You should smile more often.”

#25 “Is it that hard to believe that I love you?”

Scarred.

Broken beyond repair.

A terrifying monster.

Unworthy of love.

That’s what Eskel sees every time he looks at his reflection. It’s hard for him to see himself when those voices echo inside his head each time his eyes trail down those scars. That’s all he ends up seeing.

Those scars.

It’s the reason that Eskel stays away from mirrors, and why he always has to collect water from a rushing river. He can never allow himself to look at his reflection or else his insecurities might get to him. Eskel may be a witcher, made for killing some of the most dangerous creatures on the continent. 

But he’s still a man. One who has a heart more fragile and kinder than anyone you’ve ever met.

You see it. How can’t he?

Eskel doesn’t know all the time you take to admire his features. Whether he was cleaning his gear, making a fire, or taking care of Scorpion, you were there to watch every little movement that he made. 

One thing that Eskel hardly allowed you to do was clean his wounds.

He would come back beaten and bloody, but still refuse any help you would offer. At first, you thought he was being stubborn. But you later realized that Eskel had one sole purpose when it came to avoiding your assistance.

He didn’t want you to see him. 

The witcher was full of scars, this was well known. Eskel figured they made him unlovable, so he kept them hidden from your gaze even though you were well aware that they were there. No matter what you said to him, he never believed you. But there was one thing that you absolutely adored about him.

Eskel’s smile.

It’s a little half smile as he never smiles fully. His scars render the other half of his face motionless. Eskel feels if he moves them, people will notice more. He tries to not pay any attention to it. The witcher only ever smiled when he was drunk with Lambert and Geralt, or when he was truly excited or happy for something.

Which was rare.

You loved his little half smile and wished you could see it more. Eskel kept it to himself and no matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t get him to do it a lot. He just doesn’t see what you see.

“You should smile more often.” You told him one day after seeing him smile at you. Eskel was just having such a nice time with you that he brought his walls down. But when you mentioned that, his smile instantly vanished and he turned his head away from you, touching his scars in a nervous gesture.

You reminded him. You noticed. And it brought him nothing but shame.

It's been weeks since you started contemplating your feelings. Your love for him has always been there since he took a contract from you. You figured he must feel something too because he kept coming to see you. Eskel was a shy witcher for sure, but now you were at a crossroads with this.

Do you tell him?

Eskel's insecurities always get the better of him, so you didn't know how he would react if you told him how you felt. You didn't want to shut him down or anything. But he deserved to know. And he needed to know that he was more worthy than anyone to be loved.

That he is no monster.

"Eskel? How is it coming along?" You asked the witcher after you came back from washing yourself up in the river. He was kneeling over a fire, trying to pile sticks together before using Igni to light it up.

“It’s coming.” He responded simply. True to his words, a couple seconds passed by, and you guys had a cozy little fire for the evening. You moved to sit on a log, tapping your hands on your legs as you tried to think of what to say to him. Staring at Eskel, you realized that even though he didn’t say much, he obviously sensed that you had something to say.

The witcher had his back to you, and was busying himself with the campfire, poking at it far longer than he needed to.

"Eskel." Your voice said weakly. Eskel pretended that he couldn't hear you, but you knew that was a lie. Witchers have incredible senses.

"Eskel." You said much more strongly, showing him that you weren't backing down. This caused the witcher to jump a bit, and you bit back an apology. He was obviously trying to ignore you.

"Yes? Sorry...I just had a lot on my mind." Eskel said while stumbling back a bit to sit beside you. He was tense, hands folded in his lap as his leg jumped around in an anxious manner. It was also hard for his golden cat-like eyes to look in your e/c ones. Perhaps he knew what you were going to say.

Perhaps he was afraid of the opposite.

“I noticed...hey, you ever think that there’s more to life than this?” You decided to ease into your confession, not wanting the poor man to shut down on you. Still, you scooted a bit closer to him, causing Eskel to swallow nervously.

“What do you mean? For a witcher, there isn’t much more than this.” Eskel said, folding his hands together and staring deep into the fire. You gave him a sad look, but it quickly glossed over with one of love.

You just couldn’t help but admire how the fire made Eskel look even more rugged. More handsome, in your eyes.

“But what if...what if there was someone who wanted to share it with you? Someone...who loved just everything about you...” You confessed while moving to touch his knee. Just like you expected, Eskel tensed up before moving his body away from your touch.

“That’s impossible. Why would anyone choose to love someone like me? A monster...a scarred monster...” Eskel’s voice grew quieter as he spoke, and he moved to gently touch the scars that ran down his face. If you looked close enough, you could see the heavy rise and fall of his chest. It’s almost as if Eskel was struggling not to just break down at the words he just said.

And it broke your heart.

“Is it that hard to believe that I love you?” You asked him in a whisper, moving to touch his shoulder and make him look at you. It took Eskel a while, but he eventually gave into your touch.

Looking into his eyes, you saw how miserable he looked.

But your heart broke even more when he nodded slightly at your question.

Gently, you brought up your hand to grab his that was trying to hide the scars. Then, after prying his hand away and gripping it in your own, you moved your free hand up to cup his cheek and gently trace over the scars with your finger. He couldn’t stop himself from closing his eyes a bit at the warmth.

“Please don’t push me away...” You begged him quietly, squeezing his hand a bit. Eskel responded in kind, barely being able to muster out an apology because of how choked up with emotion he was. 

“I...I...Thank you...I feel the same for you...” Eskel didn’t know how to respond to your feelings, which he greatly returned in full. He never said anything because he was afraid of the rejection he was sure to receive. But now, he was just basking in the relief and love he felt around you.

“Eskel...” You moved to brush some black hair out of his eyes before kissing his scars and saying, “You are more worthy of my love than anyone else.”

As you said this, moving your hand to rub his back, you could’ve sworn you saw him smile a bit. While you continued to stare, Eskel moved to look you in the eyes for the first time in a long while.

And, just when you thought you would never see it again, he gave you that adoring half-smile.

#the witcher #the witcher 3 #the witcher imagine #the witcher 3 eskel #eskel #eskel x reader #eskel imagine

[on-a-lucky-tide]

(Aiden/Lambert; the morning after; kissing and fondling; the Witcher Game canon)

If there was one thing Vesemir had drummed into their heads the moment they could understand spoken language, it was manners. Not etiquette. There was no need to know which fork you used to eat salad with and which was for picking your nose. But manners. Elbows off the tables, back straight when you're talking to someone, return kit you've borrowed in good nick. The list was endless.

It had been a bit hit and miss with Lambert. He weaponised his manners when they served him most, often when it made someone else's life a touch more difficult. Every other time, they were just another courtesy no one deserved. As a result, he elbowed his way through life being as blunt and unbearable as possible.

So, imagine his fucking surprise when he had woken up that morning, his body aching and his limbs tangled around the most handsome bastard on the Continent, and the first thing he had thought of was how fucking impolite it would be to not make breakfast. Because that was a normal and well-adjusted thing to do after having your backside blown out so well you'd called to the gods, despite being a faithless cretin your entire life.

It was better than standing in the shower and staring at the tiles in post-fuck bewilderment, Lambert reasoned as he flipped the bacon over in the frying pan. Imagine waking up to find your hook up standing in your shower looking like something out the fucking Shining 'cause you made him scream-cum.

Hook up. That didn't really track anymore, did it?

Hook ups didn't go on endless dates or spend time actually watching Netflix on cosy winter evenings. They didn't help you paint your shitty one bed apartment or give you their old couch so you didn't have to eat your takeout on the floor, and they certainly didn't get invited to the niece's birthday barbecue which was due to start in five hours. "Bollocks," Lambert murmured as he shimmied the bacon out and replaced it with an egg.

It had taken Lambert this long to sleep with Aiden because the truth was he had never been a hook up. Lambert didn't do that. He wasn't Eskel, who went cruising and came back with a new pretty face every other week. He had said those stupid fucking words last night to try and reduce the gravity of it all, to make it less... intimidating, and Aiden had the good grace to laugh it off before kissing Lambert so thoroughly he forgot who the king of Redania was.

"Mm, smells good."

Lambert startled, so lost in his thoughts that he had missed Aiden walking up behind him. His body was still bed-warm, his firm chest covered in soft hair pressed to Lambert's back. "Me or the bacon?" Lambert asked, a little breathless as Aiden kissed the soft skin beneath his ear.

"Both," Aiden replied, bumping his hips to the top of Lambert's arse. He was about seven inches taller, which made the sudden and vivid daydream that popped into Lambert's head of Aiden bending him over the counter a little unrealistic. He thought about it anyway. As if he could taste the flush in Lambert's skin, Aiden's hand wandered beneath the apron Lambert had thrown on, fondling Lambert's hardening cock through the soft cotton of his boxers. "Still eager after last night, baby. What a treat for me."

"I'm... There's--ahh, there's bacon."

Aiden rested his chin on Lambert's shoulder to peer down at the pan, his hand still stroking slowly. "I can see," he said, and then after a brief pause, "are you stress cooking?"

"No. I'm being a courteous fucking houseguest. I think I owe your brothers a gift basket after the noise I made last night."

Aiden chuckled. "Yeah, you were so loud."

Lambert tensed, his cheeks warming.

"Hey." Aiden flicked the gas off and tilted Lambert's chin up. "You ashamed of what we did? You didn't feel, uh... pressured, did you? I thought..."

Oh, shit. How had he managed to ruin it already? Lambert swallowed and threw the spatula down. The partially cooked yolk smeared through the base of the pan, fat sizzling, and he kissed Aiden right on his worried frown. It would have given him enough time to gather his thoughts, but they all scattered the moment Aiden moaned softly in pleasure.

They stood kissing for some time, one of Aiden's hands slipping into Lambert's ruffled hair to knead and tug gently. His other hand remained on Lambert's cock, which throbbed needily with every passing stroke. Lambert's knees wobbled, and Aiden's arm lifted to his waist to steady him. "Easy, baby. Going a little weak at the knees there." The fact clearly delighted him.

"Don't regret it, wanted it, want... want you." Lambert managed a few broken sentences through the croak in his throat as he looked at the mutilated fucking egg in the pan. "Not... sure how to process it."

"Should've figured that big brain of yours would overthink itself into a rut." Aiden nuzzled into Lambert's dark nest of hair as if he could kiss said brain through Lambert's skull. "Did you have fun last night?"

"You know I had fun last night, arsehole."

"Mm, but I wanna hear you say it," Aiden purred. "You had a lot to say at the time."

"I didn't talk..."

"Ahh--ahh, Aiden, fuck, fuck, ahh, shit, mmm, that--oh my fucking gods, what--"

Lambert elbowed Aiden in the stomach and whirled around to face him. He didn't get to lay in with his rebuttal, because Aiden scooped him up and kissed him again through a chuckle.

When he pulled away, Lambert felt thoroughly gentled and Aiden licked his neck. "Just teasing. No regrets, Bertie. I want you. Have wanted you so bad for so long. But if you need to slow down, need some more time, you're worth waiting for."

And that. That was enough.

The weird tension Lambert had been carrying since he'd woken faded. He wasn't a one and done to Aiden. Not now to be discarded for a new and less complicated conquest. Not another hook up--why had he said such a stupid fucking idiot thing? He'd done this to himself, he was such a dickhead--but someone Aiden would wait for, even without the sex...

No, no, Lambert definitely wanted the sex.

"Bacon reheats, right?" Lambert murmured into Aiden's shoulder.

"Yeah, egg's fucked though."

"Fuck the egg--wait, no, fuck me. Fuck me instead."

Aiden chuckled as he scooped Lambert up by the thighs, guiding muscular legs around his waist. "My pleasure."

#witcher lambert #aiden #lambden #laiden #tw3 #the witcher games

[kueble]

Wild Mint

This is not what I planned on doing tonight, but @justhereforeskel deserves something soft.

Teen. Warnings: Chronic injury. 1,300 words.

Eskel/Geralt

---

The stairs never used to be this steep. Geralt is sure of it. Any other night he would have been fine, but Vesemir had pushed them all so much earlier. Hell, he skipped a warm dinner to haul his ass down to the hot springs, and even soaking alone for hours hasn’t dulled the pain in his knee.

With a grunt, he leans on the railing and pulls himself up the stairs, doing his best to ignore how fucking useless he feels. His body shouldn’t be fighting him like this. He was a finely-honed killing machine - according to every human he’s ever met - and he shouldn’t be hobbling up the gods-damned stairs like this. But it’s hard to win a battle against his own body, especially when it’s this angry at him.

Thankfully Eskel isn’t here to watch him suffer.

By the grace of some long-forgotten god, Geralt makes it to his room without running into anyone. Everyone is probably deep in their cups at this point, and as much as he’d love to be down in the main hall with them, the throbbing in his knee says what a horrible idea that is. He’s tried to drown the pain away many nights like this and yet the pain lingers come morning.

“Fuck,” he mutters to himself, throwing open the door to his room while he tries not to judge himself. No sense in being maudlin at this point. He’s an old bastard, and his body just finally caught up with his age.

“Language, Wolf,” Eskel calls out, and Geralt nearly trips over himself trying not to look shocked. How bad does his pain have to be for him to not notice the second heartbeat in their room. He runs a hand over his face and tries to think of an excuse to be alone, to not show his faults.

“Just tired is all,” he whispers, and one look at Eskel lets him know his lover isn’t buying it.

“Please, I know you,” Eskel scuffs. “Could tell how much damage that last tumble did the second you rolled on your bad knee. Let me take care of it.”

“No need,” Geralt says gruffly, because he’s not some spoiled maiden. He’s a fucking witcher, and that should matter. His body should listen to him, damnit.

“Let me rephrase that,” Eskel says softly, “let me take care of you. You’re allowed to have a bad day, especially with a knee like yours.”

“No, I’m not,” Geralt argues, his tone harsher than he likes. “Witchers don’t get bad days. Fuck, I shouldn’t even have a bad knee. Things like that get you killed. Probably should have died from this fucking injury in the first place. Wouldn’t be in so much pain if I had.”

“Shut your stupid mouth and listen to me,” Eskel growls at him, stomping over the room to stand in front of him. “You want me to be dead? Because it’s hard for any creature to live without its heart beating in its chest. And that’s you. You’re my heart, asshole, so let me take care of you and we’ll both feel better for it come morning.”

“You’ve gone soft,” Geralt whispers, but he’s smirking as Eskel takes him by the shoulders and guides him over to the bed.

“Not what you told me last night,” he says, chuckling as he starts to undo Geralt’s laces. “No funny business tonight, though. You’re going to let me massage your bad leg, coat it in that horrible mint salve that will have us both tingling for days, and then I’m going to make sure you don’t move for the rest of the night. You can fuck me once you can kneel on the bed without cringing,” he says, laughing as Geralt shakes his head and gives in.

He should have known there was no hiding this, not from Eskel. They’ve been living in each other’s pockets since they were kids, and there’s never been a secret between them. Well, not since that awkward first year on the path full of missed connections and ridiculous pining. No, they’re on even ground nowadays, and life’s better for it.

He wants to say something sappy, something his bard would put in a flowery song, something that would stick to his tongue and sound honey-sweet, but that’s not how they work. They don’t need pretty words to know how they feel. He can hear it in the slow beat of Eskel’s heart, in the warm heat of his gaze as they lock eyes. They both know how much love is there.

So instead, he lets Eskel strip him down and help him into a soft pair of nightclothes. He sits on the edge of the bed like a good boy while Eskel gets himself ready, slurping up the still-warm bowl of stew Eskel shoves at him with a pointed look. Got it. No more skipping meals. By the time his bowl is empty, Eskel is dressed and the fire has been properly stoked. He sets the bowl on their bedside table to become tomorrow’s problem and sprawls back against their pillows.

“Isn’t it much easier when you let me boss you around?” Eskel asks, grinning as he crawls onto the bed and sits by Geralt’s thighs. He uncaps the jar of salve and the stinging scent of wild mint fills the air.

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Geralt snorts, but he offers a wide smile and gestures down at his injured knee. “Do your worst.”

“How about I do my best instead?” Eskel whispers, and Geralt has to turn to look at the fire because his chest suddenly feels too tight. Emotions are always closer to the surface - just waiting to bubble up and flow out of him - when he hurts like this.

Eskel works in silence, but it’s a comfortable one. Eventually Geralt turns to watch him work, his body going limp under Eskel’s strong hands. His tanned skin looks so harsh against Geralt’s milky complexion, but they fit together so well. He loses himself in the warm movements, letting Eskel drain the pain from him. He knows it will never really go away, but he’s able to ignore it once Eskel finishes.

“Thank you,” he whispers, barely a sound at all, and Eskel just smiles at him. His scar pulls at his lip, his tooth poking out, and anyone else would find it offputting, but it just looks like home to him. Eskel nods before getting off the bed to put the salve away and wash up in the basin by the fire. Geralt feels so relaxed he could fall asleep any second, but he forces himself to stay awake until Eskel comes back.

“Too lazy to get under the covers?” Eskel teases him, rolling Geralt so he can tug the furs out from under him.

“What can I say? You’ve got good hands.”

“Good mouth, too,” Eskel tells him, and Geralt rolls his eyes in response.

But then he’s moving, leaning in to capture Eskel’s mouth in a gentle kiss. There’s no heat behind it, but his body lights up just the same. Even after all these years, every time they touch sparks something deep inside of him. Shoving that down, Geralt turns his face and presses a softer kiss to Eskel’s scarred cheek.

“Love you, too,” he mumbles before rolling over onto his side. As expected, Eskel follows him, curling up against his beck and throwing a heavy arm over his hips. The last thing he feels is Eskel’s breath against the back of his neck.

---

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#my fic #eskralt #geskel #geralt x eskel #eskel x geralt #the witcher #tw3