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#jaskier x lambert
nikipuppeteer · 5 months
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Unpopular opinion because I know many disliked the hair, but season 2 Jaskier was my fav Jaskier and I loved his design, stupid hat and all. I'd totally jump him thank you very much and also my fav fics are the post mountain and s2 fics lol
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LIKE- LOOK AT HIM, LOOK AT THIS LITTLE MEAW MEAW
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That Heat Bombard got me like 👀 Lay it one me!
(And I’ll put a post up asap!)
Heat Bombard is one of my two fics for Fandom Trumps Hate! Like it says on the tin, it's an omegaverse Bombard fic where due to Plot Reasons, Jaskier ends up drinking a potion that gives him an extra-strong heat, which he needs help riding out. Luckily, he's at Kaer Morhen and Lambert, who he's been pining over for years, happens to be there.
Here's a snippet:
“Lambert, I’m bored.” Jaskier’s voice is a whine.
“Another day of bedrest. Vengerberg’s orders.” Lambert puts down the breakfast tray in front of him. It’s the first time he’s been in the same room as Jaskier since they arrived at Kaer Morhen; the bard still looks worn and a little haggard, but his scent is no longer flooded with pre-heat. He doesn’t smell like much of anything, in fact; the suppressants Vengerberg gave him do the trick.
“Since when does Yennefer give the orders?”
“Since you nearly froze your fucking feet off climbing a mountain in slippers.” Lambert knows that isn’t fair; it’s not like Jaskier had a choice in the matter. But grousing about the slippers is easier than thinking about all the other things about this situation that making Lambert fucking furious.
Jaskier sighs, very put upon. “Tell me a story. I want to hear about your year on the Path.”
Lambert blinks. “Why?”
“Because I haven’t left this bed in a week. Have I mentioned that I’m bored?”
“Only a thousand times.” Lambert can’t inject any real annoyance into his voice. “Ask Geralt. He’s your muse.”
“Geralt’s stories are all, ‘It was big and I killed it.’” Jaskier’s voice lowers into an abysmal imitation of Geralt’s.
“What about one of the others?”
“Eskel is only a little better than Geralt, Vesemir is busy, and please never tell dear, sweet Coën I said this, but he takes so long to get to the point that I fear I’ll perish before I find out what kind of monster he was hunting. I’m just a mortal man.” Jaskier grins up at Lambert, all big blue eyes. “Anyway, your stories are always so colorful.”
Lambert snorts. “That’s what Geralt likes to call my bullshit.”
“Maybe I like your bullshit.” Somehow, Jaskier’s eyes seem to get even bigger. Maybe even a little bluer, which shouldn’t be possible. Maybe Lambert is just a besotted idiot.
WIP Ask Game
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officerjennie · 1 year
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For a rainy day :)
Lambert hugging someone awkwardly? (3?) Whoever you want that someone to be 😉
No CWs. Lambert is a disaster. Lambskier. Taglist at the bottom!
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Lambert didn't do hugs. 
Namely, he didn't do touching. Of any sort. The thought made his skin crawl, his face twist into itself, and just the thought of all the gooey feelings that were usually attached to hugging made it all even worse.
That said, he wasn't sure what else he could do when Jaskier was giving him that look.
Somewhere along the way, the bard had attached himself to Lambert's side. A barnacle of a human, suction cupped to him, traipsing along the path in Lambert's wake despite the amount of times Lambert had thrown his boots at him. For all the years Lambert had made fun of Geralt for being stuck with him, destiny or karma or whatever bullshit must have been getting back at him, because Lambert could not shake the damned bard no matter how hard he tried.
And he mainly tried because he liked Jaskier's company. Didn't do for a witcher to get attached to a human, after all.
But he tried and failed, and hated every time Jaskier gave him that look - though there were a dozen 'that look's that made Lambert snarl or storm off away from the bard. Like the one where Jaskier's eyes lit up at whatever story Lambert was telling, or the one where Jaskier's face turned haunted and dangerous when someone said something snide about witchers.
Or the one where Jaskier's whole face softened, and his voice turned quiet, when Lambert stumbled back into their camp bleeding.
Right at that moment, he hated the tears in Jaskier's eyes, and he couldn't run away from them.
He'd caused them. Worst of all, he hadn't caused them by being mean. All he'd done was replace Jaskier's leather bound notebook, the one the damned idiot had dropped in the river the week before and had spent at least a good hour wading around in the water for. And it hadn't even been out of the graciousness of his heart, nor because he felt bad for him when all Jaskier had to scribble on were spare sheets of paper he picked up off of the streets when they passed through a town.
...okay maybe he had been trying to cheer the bard up. His moping was worse than his cheer, and it grated on Lambert's nerves in a way that was dangerously close to suggesting he was fond of him.
So he'd bought him a notebook. And Jaskier had started to sniff, and tear up, and barely managed to whisper out a hoarse "thank you", and Lambert didn't know what to do.
The first thing that came to mind was hug him. He didn't know why, he hated hugs, but it seemed like the right thing to do. Jaskier was tactile, always running his hands over soft things or worrying his thumbs over rough surfaces to feel their texture. Fuck, he'd hug a stranger if they were kind enough to him, and Lambert could see him squirming in place, hands clutching the leather notebook and his coat swaying behind him.
He wanted a hug. Was holding himself back from flinging his arms around the witcher because as much as Jaskier wasn't the greatest with boundaries he knew which ones to keep and which ones he could push.
And Lambert didn't know what to do except hug him. So he did.
Jaskier let out a small eep as Lambert put his arms around him, holding the bard loosely and glaring off to the side like the wall had personally offended him. He couldn't help but stiffen and grind his teeth, and Jaskier just held his breath, not moving an inch as they stood there in complete silence.
It was awful. Lambert hated every second of it. And then Jaskier slowly wrapped his arms around Lambert's back, and Lambert hated it for an entirely different reason.
"Thank you, truly."
Lambert growled, feeling heat building on his cheeks, and he wanted nothing more than to bolt and never see the bard again.
And also wanted to hold him closer, and wanted to kiss him until Jaskier lost his words and just shut up for once.
"Alright, that's enough, shut up about it." Lambert wriggled right out of the hug and bodily held Jaskier at arms length for a moment, glaring at him though it didn't even make the bard flinch. He then huffed and dropped his arms, turning on his heel and snatching up his swords to go find something to kill.
"Should I wait up for you?" Jaskier called out, his voice still touched with softness, and Lambert needed to run before that made him think too much on whatever feelings were rattling around in his chest.
"Don't make me knock you out," he snapped, and jumped out the window before Jaskier could say anything else.
He hated hugs. He hated touching. And he hated how Jaskier made him want to admit he was lying.
--
@fontegagrilledcheese @damnbert @mothmanismyuncle @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde @jaskierswolf @oldandkinky @blooodymoon  @kan0chan @silvermintnightprincess @flowercrown-bard @sharinalein @concussed-dragon @hayleynzlive @feral-jaskier @sweetiepieplum @stonedstargazer666 @deafeningnightcollection-things @luteandsword @kmuir1 @little-boats-on-a-lake @dani-dandelino @rurousha @renewlucifer
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Looking for a fic for someone else!
Jaskier meets one of the Witchers (likely either Lambert or Eskel) and ends up befriending them, he stays at their safe house cottage. There may have been chickens and maybe a goat? The cottage might get burned down by anti-Witcher people near the end.
Heard back from the searcher!!! The great @221birl1823 found it!! It's Too Much by Kalaratri!
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roachandrenfri · 9 months
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There is a non-zero chance that twn!Jaskier and twn!Lambert fucked. In canon.
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quickficss · 2 years
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You Don’t Scare Me
I WANT LAMBERT TO BE COMFORTED AND CARED FOR GOD DAMN IT. THATS IT. THATS THE FIC.
Implied Lambert/Jaskier|Dandelion (and implied geraskier) as well as some family dynamic with the other wolves. Hurt/Comfort. 1,414 words. AO3
It was a shit day. A shit day at the end of a shit week, which was at the end of a shit month, which was at the end of a shit year, which was arguably at the end of a shit fucking life. It was all shit, and he was angry about it. anyone would be if they were in his shoes.
His brothers got everything. The fame, the respect, the women and men, everything. He had something once, someone. But he lost him as soon as he let him in.
It was the anniversary of Aidens death, and Lambert wasn’t handling it well. The first half of the day was spent in his room, destroying anything and everything he could get his hands on, and the second half of the day was spent throwing bombs into the lake while screaming. Or maybe crying. It was probably both if he was being honest with himself, which he was never going to be.
Now he felt like a shell. The only thing he felt all day was anger and grief, but now he felt nothing. It was late, around dinner or a little after that. His brothers and Jaskier were in the main hall probably drinking and laughing, unaware of his pain. They didn’t care. No one did.
At least, so he thought.
“There you are” a voice called to him from behind. a melodramatic voice that was unnaturally quiet, compared to the ballads he constantly belted out. Turning his head, Lambert saw the bard standing there, his hands clasped behind his straight back, his loud outfit especially offensive to his eyes in this dim lighting. He growled deep in his throat like a wild animal prepared to back up his bark with a bite. This only earned a roll of the bard's blue eyes.
“Hush now, Lamb.” He lightly scolded with a smile, making his way over without hesitance or fear. “There’s no need to act like that. Come and drink with me and your family, huh? You’ve been down all day.”
“What would you know?!” The witcher snapped, moving his shoulder away from the bard's open hand. “I have every right to be upset! You don’t know anything about me or what I’ve been through, so don’t fucking pretend that you do!”
The bard frowned, lowering his hand to his side as he looked up at the wolf. Lambert noticed that he didn’t smell of fear or disdain or even annoyance, but heartache.
“Lambert” Jaskier began, carefully stepping closer to the cornered wolf, not because he was afraid of being bitten but afraid he would scare lambert off. “Geralt... he told me what happened... he told everyone. Not Yen or Ciri obviously, but he told the people you... see the most often. The people who are here.” A blinding rage caused Lambert's vision to see red. How dare Geralt go behind his back to tell everyone of something so personal, something he trusted him with the knowledge of? He clenched his hands into fists, which caught Jaskiers attention.
“Don’t misunderstand!” Jaskier quickly added, putting his hands up in a stop position with an anxious smile. “He didn’t give any details or even names. He just told us that you had lost someone a couple of years ago to the day and that's why every time this date comes around you get... moody.” The bard winced at his own wording, probably aiming for something more gentle or poetic. The youngest witcher growled again before crossing his arms.
“So what?  Are you here to mock me? Poke fun at me? Call me weak? Because I’m warning you now, I’m not in the fucking mood.”
“Gods no! Do I really come across as such a heartless bastard?” Jaskier exclaimed as he brought a hand up to his chest. Lambert couldn’t help the crooked smile that rose to his lips, which earned a huff and a muttered “Don’t answer that” from the bard. Rubbing a hand across his face, the younger man continued. “Lamb, I hate to see you like this, we all do. Just join us for a couple of pints, a few rounds of cards, whatever you want. We haven’t seen you all day and... we’re concerned.”
Lambert scoffed as he turned on his heel and began marching down the hall again. “Thank you but no thank you, I’m perfectly fine on my own, now get lost before I- Ack!” The man was stopped in his tracks when two arms suddenly wrapped around his torso, refusing to let go. He heard Jaskier coming up from behind him obviously, he just wasn’t expecting... that. “You don’t scare me, you fucking asshole,” Jaskier said, his words muffled from Lambert's shirt. “You are coming to be with us and that's final. It’s not good to process grief alone. Please let us...” he trailed off for a moment, “... let me help you.”
Something about the way Jaskier sounded so genuine, the way the smell of compassion rolled off of him in waves, caused Lambert to suddenly stop his train of thought. Jaskier tightened his grip around the man's chest, fist curling around the front of his shirt.
“Please” was all Jaskier had to add before Lambert caved. He could feel his eyes sting but quickly brought his hands up to wipe stray tears before the bard was any the wiser. “Fine.”
He followed the bard into the main hall, where his brothers and Vesemir sat waiting with an extra mug of mead spiked with white gull for him. It seemed as though this was planned. Thankfully, no one forced him to say anything, no one even brought it up. It was only when he was good and drunk when Vesemir draped a thin blanket over his shivering form, did he break. He of course didn’t say anything about his and Aiden's relationship explicitly, but the looks he received as he was drunkenly ranting and raving about the Cat witchers food preferences told him that they knew.
He didn’t even realize he was crying until a good three seconds after he started smelling the salt. He cringed at that fact, as it only brought to light how inferior his reflexes were compared to his brothers.
Despite all that, no one condemned him. No one made him out to feel weak or pathetic, they only listened and offered comforting words. He was also pretty sure Geralt let him win at Gwent on purpose, but he was too happy about the fact he finally beat the white wolf to care.
When the hour was late, or rather early in the morning, it was only him, the bard, and the bard’s muse. Geralt and Jaskier exchanged looks that the youngest wolf couldn’t quite read, but after what seemed like a staring match Geralt stood up and patted Lambert on the shoulder before leaving to go to bed.
And then there were two.
“... do you want me to write a ballad about him?” Jaskier voiced gently.
“No... Yes. I mean- fuck, I don’t know.” Lambert slurred, staring at the bottom of his mug.
“You should head to bed. It’s late and you had a long day.” The bard smiled at him from across the table. Lambert's mouth and throat became dry. He had the realization that he didn’t want to be left alone just yet, but he knew the human was probably tired. He wasn’t sure how long humans should stay awake, he never had one to take care of as Geralt did, but he was pretty sure they weren’t supposed to stay awake as long as Jaskier had.
“Could you...” Lambert began, tripping over his tongue, “I mean, can you... I just... I don’t....” He could feel himself getting flustered as he watched Jaskier’s grin grow, his cornflower eyes filling with mirth. “Could you just... spend the night with me? Not to do anything! I just don’t...” He couldn’t bring himself to say it.
“Sure” was not the answer he was expecting. They walked to Lambert’s room in silence, and the wolf learned four things that night.
1. Jaskier slept in his briefs
2. Jaskier was surprisingly buff under all that puffy fabric
3. Jaskier’s feet were cold
and 4. He fell asleep much easier when he was accompanied by the gentle smell of chamomile.
Jaskier wasn’t an Aiden. He realized he still needed time to heal. Maybe next winter, however, he could ask Geralt how open the relationship was.
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glwstic · 1 year
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Rec List 8: The Witcher
-  Just a song of safety by LeWanderinGaal
'Some said the Sandpiper was so amazing he wasn't even a person, just a song of safety that carried on the wind. Said he could enchant guards with just a hum of tine. I've heard some say he's an elf mage in disguise, strong as a dragon and beautiful as Francesca. When we met him, sure he wasn't any of those things, but his songs were good and I can't but thank him for saving me and mother' Elven child's diary - Cintra 1264
or
Jaskier's face will forever be a memory of freedom for some, Sandpiper the name of the saivour of elves. And I wanted to explore how Jaskier's deeds deserve some more recognition and how him arguing with the deck guard seemed...wrong, especially if Jaskier had been helping elves for a while by the moment we see him. If other favourite concepts and headcanons for him made their way into this well...
Oneshot,  11,751 words
-  as every step I choose to take by restmyheadatnightcontent
The fire follows him.
He cannot seem to escape it - in moments of quiet he can still feel his fingers burning, with every mouthful of food that he eats, all he tastes is the horrid mixture of blood and smoke, and it takes everything he has to swallow it down and not empty his stomach, and he is constantly looking over his shoulder, catching glimpses for that lingering shadow, waiting for the moment when that black figure and that singular flame catch him again.
Most days, he has a handle on it.
Or at least, he does his best to convince everyone that he has a handle on it.
Oneshot, 1,492 words
- reconstruction by SparrowFlight246
Jaskier's burned hand gets infected in the aftermath of everything.
It complicates things, a bit.
Oneshot,  6,363 words
-  (I won’t) Scream Into the Night by Chaos_Breeds
Ciri didn’t react to that, looking into the distance again. “The thing is,” she whispered, voice raw and aching. The voice of a girl who had seen so much death and destruction, and was trying to brace herself for more. “I’m not really worried about you two.”
There was a long, blissful second where Geralt had no idea what she was referring to. And then suddenly, he heard far-off humming, snippets of ‘Toss a Coin’. His blood ran cold.
“Jaskier,” he realized.
———
Jaskier isn’t like the rest of them - the world is much, much more dangerous for a bard than for Witchers and witches and magical princesses. Ciri and Geralt try to deal with that knowledge. Jaskier helps.
Oneshot,  1,803 words
-  The Path Not Taken by sospes
Jaskier comes across an injured witcher in a backwoods town, months after the events of the dragon hunt. It all just sort of escalates from there.
5/5 Completed,  40,149 words
-  Advantage by sospes
"The drugs have been made specifically for you, to keep you docile. Didn’t want you snapping my neck mid-vengeance, did I?”
Vengeance? “I don’t even know you,” Geralt spits.
The lordling laughs. “Oh, the revenge wasn’t on you."
Jaskier made a mistake. Geralt suffers the consequences.
Oneshot,  10,448 words
-  like a flame that burns the candle by unseenbox
Yennefer lights a fire. Jaskier has some opinions to offer on the subject. Together, they find a way to cope.
Oneshot,  2,363 words
-  resurge infra terra by asweetepilogue
It seemed the alderman had been wrong when he said that the creature’s bite killed instantly. Shame Jaskier was only figuring that out now that he was several feet under.
Oneshot,  1,256 words
-  so hard to say (so easy to do) by asweetepilogue
Jaskier gets left behind, and Nilfgaard is not forgiving of his sacrifice.
Oneshot,  3,165 words
-  so hard to do (so easy to say) by asweetepilogue
They can’t get out of this. He knows it, Geralt knows it. Ciri is starting to, her eerie green eyes wide and frightened. Jaskier can hear them, men shouting off to their left and the sound of footsteps behind them. It’s over.
Nilfgaard closes in, and Geralt has to make a choice.
Oneshot,  698 words
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kueble · 2 years
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Last one for the night I think. @thepassifloradiscord
Explicit. Warnings: none. 100 words
Lambert/Jaskier (implied Geraskier)
---
"Geralt said you had a mouth on you, though I doubt this is what he meant," Lambert says, laughing as he struggles to hold his hips I check.
"He knows better than most," Jaskier replies, smirking before swallowing him down again. He grabs Lambert’s hand and brings it to the back of his head, begging him to fuck him harder. He looks filthy on his knees, happily gagging around Lambert’s thick cock.
Lambert had reservations about letting the bard join them this winter, but as he slams his hips into Jaskier's hot wet mouth, he can't seem to remember them.
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Lessons in Self Discovery
Fandom: The Witcher
Ships: Geralt xJaskier, Aiden x Lambert
Rating: Mature
Tags: open relationships, spanking, caning, bdsm, kink discovery, no sex
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Geralt watches Jaskier get spanked by Aiden, then Lambert get caned. It makes him realise something about his own desires to submit.
Written for @thewitcherflashfic round 71. I couldn't help myself, I see traditional schoolroom and that's where my mind goes.
Also, it was a lovely opportunity to continue this foursome's dynamic from the last one, Jaskier sandwich.
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fangirleaconmigo · 2 years
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You were asking for a prompt? How about Jaskier soft Domming Lambert?
Jaskier being taken to a strip club and being thirsty on sight upon seeing Eskel (and/or) Lambert dancing
Hello dear! Ok. I’ll do:
Jaskier soft dommimg Lambert. Short ficlet (in theory). Very Explicit. (Obviously)
Also, Lambert is in lingerie.
Lambert heard the door creak open behind him. He stopped fidgeting and held still as best he could. Hope and anxiety fought for dominance in his chest.
Jaskier had asked for this. Had asked for him to put on his finest handmade deep blue underthings. In reply, Lambert asked him over and over if he was sure. Jaskier just laughed in that easy, musical way of his. “Oh I am quite sure, Lambert.”
Jaskier had seen him naked. He knew what he looked like. He had known Lambert for months, so he knew how foul mouthed and hot tempered he was.
And Lambert knew that he was hardly some darling thing. He was not willowy or ethereal. He was wiry and calloused.
This was stupid. But he wanted it, and Jaskier said that he wanted it too. So Lambert had said fuck it.
While Jaskier performed, Lambert had stomped upstairs. He had bathed and put on Jaskier’s best pair of delicate underthings. They were silk and lace and they felt like whisper thin petals on his skin.
Then, Lambert had prepared himself, writhing on the bed, riding his own slicked fingers. Then he had gotten down on his hands and knees facing the mirror and waited.
Once or twice he had almost lost his nerve and run out into the the cold. But something had anchored him there, hands and knees pressed into the rug, thighs trembling.
It was hope, he supposed.
And this was the moment. The door had swung open and air from the hall had puffed in, smelling slightly of ale and carrying with it the muffled conversations from far away party guests.
This could be the moment. Jaskier could take one look at him like this and laugh. He could change his mind. He could regret it.
He heard a swift intake of breathe, and creaking of Jaskier’s impractical shoes on the floorboards.
Then Jaskier made a series of noises Lambert had yet to hear him make.
The first sound was a swallowed choke. Then it was like the release of a very very please sigh. It almost sounded like a purr. That was followed by a dark, predatory chuckle. Then the sound of the door clicking shut and the lock turning.
Lambert gathered the courage to crane over his shoulder and look at Jaskier.
The dark predatory chuckled was paired with a dark gleam in his very blue eyes and an eager, predatory grin. And finally, he said something intelligible.
“Fuck me but I am a lucky cunt.”
Well. That was good then.
“Yeah you are.”
Lambert tried to sound devil-may-care but his heart still beat against his chest cavity like a drum.
“Uh uh uh,” tutted Jaskier. His shock had subsided and he sounded like himself again. “Polite requests only, darling.”
They had talked about this. Polite requests only. Since Lambert met Jaskier, he had learned about this side of himself. The side that liked to please.
“S-sorry.”
Jaskier knelt behind him. Lambert watched him carefully in the mirror.
“Quite alright, Lamb. Look at you, being so good for me. Displaying yourself like this for me.”
Jaskier whistled as his eyes raked Lambert’s body with intense enthusiasm.
“Your ass is fucking gorgeous, darling. Look at you. Everything.” His fingers whispered up Lambert’s thighs and stopped to grip his hips.
Lambert exhaled and leaned back, seeking his touch. Jaskier smirked and rewarded him with more touch. He ran his fingers up the furry planes of his stomach. He slipped them under the brassiere and thumbed Lambert’s nipples.
Lambert could feel his cock growing heavy trapped in the underwear, pressed against his stomach.
“Fuck me.”
Jaskier planted slow, soft, tender kisses up his spine. “You won’t get anything if you cannot behave, Lambert,” he murmured into his skin. “Can you behave, my love?”
Lambert gritted his teeth. “Please. Please fuck me.”
Jaskier’s teeth glinted. “Good boy.”
Lambert whimpered.
“Did you do as I asked?”
His hands never stopped touching him. Gripping him. Tucking his fingers underneath his straps and thumbing the lace criss crossing his hips and chest.
“Y-yes.” Lambert was panting now. Arching his back. He could feel cool air where his cock had dripped precum onto the silk.
He could hear Jaskier unlacing his trousers behind him.
“Because you are desperate for my cock, is that it?”
Lambert nodded.
“Say it, darling. Say it with those soft, cock sucking lips.”
“Yes.” He breathed. “I need it. I need your cock.”
Jaskier pulled out his cock, and stroked it.
“This one?”
“Fuck. Yes. Please.
There was the sound of a bottle opening and the delicate scent of almond oil filling the air. Then, Jaskier slipped the thin, delicate string of his thong to one side.
Lambert felt so godsddamn exposed. Why was it so exciting? He rolled his hips. Jaskier squeezed his ass with one hand, parting him.
“Then take it.”
He nudged his hole with the fat tip of his cock. Lambert tried to shove his hips back but Jaskier held him in place.
“You will take it the way I want you to take it, Lamb. Is that clear?”
A thrill shuddered through him and he nodded.
“Good,” rumbled Jaskier. He exhaled and cursed under his breathed as he slid deeper and deeper still. “Good boy. You’re taking me so well.”
Lambert ground his hips and bit his lower lip and he took it all, moaning like a whore.
Then Jaskier curled the fingers of one hand around Lambert’s neck and urged him up. He knelt now, back against Jaskier, and hands resting on his knees.
Jaskier nuzzled his neck.
“I’m going to fuck you while you look at yourself in the mirror.”
Lambert gulped. He felt so fucking full and pliant he couldn’t question it. He looked in the mirror.
“Look how gorgeous you are stuffed with my cock. In my lingerie. Look at you.”
He saw himself the way Jaskier did. And yeah. No wonder he had been sure he wanted this. Lambert reached behind him to clutch at Jaskier’s thighs to steady himself.
It was good he did, because Jaskier began to fuck him in earnest, one hand still resting on this throat. The sound of panting and slapping of their bodies filled the room. When Jaskier fucked him, it was like a demon took over his body.
The funny, mouthy bard turned into a devouring, desperate, man, hell bent on fucking Lambert until his mind emptied of everything except the need. The need to be full. The need to be taken. To be ravaged.
Lambert’s body jiggled shook and his gaze dropped. Jaskier slowed down, and sweaty and panting, he gently moved his chin to face the mirror.
“Look. I said look.”
And for the first time, under Jaskier’s adoring, intense gaze, Lambert understood.
Jaskier came apart behind him, fucking him brutally but tenderly and came with an aborted cry.
“Make yourself cum for me Lamb. In the mirror.”
Then he watched himself come apart. And he slumped into Jaskier’s arms, allowing him to shower him in kisses.
Then, they lay panting in each other’s arms.
“You’re coming to every performance from now on, Lambert. I mean it.” Jaskier nuzzled into his neck. The sound of the party outside was growing quiet, as people paired off or staggered home.
“I’ll come to as many as I can.” He pushed Jaskier’s damp curls from his forehead and kissed him.
“Oh good.” Jaskier whispered into his lips.
“Because you are a lucky cunt,” chucked Lambert.
Jaskier plopped onto his back and smiled at the ceiling.
“That I am, darling. That I am.”
—fin
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on-a-lucky-tide · 2 years
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All my friends are on a Bombard kick, and I got inspired.
Tags: selkie-ish AU, magical curses, beginnings of 'enemies to lovers', Jaskier is a dickhead and has a lot of growing up to do; side character death.
Lambert stared at the troubadour, his mouth slack, his eyes burning with barely contained fury. Lithe, spindly fingers held his pelt tightly, clutched to a chest embellished with silk frills and glossy buttons. His feet wouldn't move because he had been ordered to 'stop'. It was such a vague fucking order. Stop. And the curse always interpreted such commands in their worst light. Sure, stop didn't mean his heart would stop beating, or his blood would freeze. But stop did, ap-fucking-parently, include the rise and fall of his chest. His vision edged in grey and orange before his captor remembered himself.
"Oh, yes, sorry, how forgetful of me, uh…" the troubadour cleared his throat, "you may breathe, but you will not harm me or allow me to come to harm, physically. You can move now. Move all you like."
Lambert tried not to give the arsewipe the satisfaction of a gasp, but he sucked in a huge lungful of air and staggered. As his vision cleared, he lifted his head to level a fierce gaze on Jaskier. "Henselt will have your balls for this, then feed them to you while you're choking in a noose."
The troubadour looked perplexed. "How would that–'' he shook his head, long pheasant feather fluttering over the puffy sleeves of his shoulders, "nevermind, it doesn't matter. Anyway, you would fell every guard that attempted to come near me. Not allow me to come to harm, remember?"
Lambert's jaw creaked as he clenched his teeth, fingers twitching at his sides. There was a knife in the back of his belt. He wanted nothing more than to ram it through the fop's stupid face. He couldn't so, instead, he lashed out with his only other weapon. "So what now, numb nuts? You have my pelt. Want me to go and slit the throat of a man you cuckolded?"
"Nothing so pedestrian," a flap of one hand, the other clutching Lambert's pelt close, "I have a far bigger target in mind."
Lambert's eyes narrowed. "If you order to me to assassinate a king, I'll be sure to tell them who had their hand in my fur when I got the idea." It wasn't unheard of. A few hundred years ago, there had been a spate of political assassinations. Kings sending Witchers after each others crotch goblins to destabilise the kingdom. It had devolved into a clusterfuck and a treaty had been signed at Loc Muinne–the Witcher Accords. No monarch would use their Witcher for anything other than to protect their personage. And yes, that didn't include pre-emptive strikes. Lambert was glad. He didn't much have a taste for murdering kids, even shitheels like Henselt's brats.
"Oh pssh! Not that big. No. You will come with me to Oxenfurt where you will not hurt or harm me, either on the journey, or while there, and then you shall slay one Valdo Marx, slanderist and imbecile."
Lambert rolled his eyes. He should have fucking known. The troubadour had arrived in court two months ago. He introduced himself as Jaskier, with a bow so low that his nose, in addition to the poncy fucking feather on his beret, brushed the floor. Henselt had quartered his last jester for spying, so Jaskier had slotted right into the bloody hole left behind. He was pretty good. A few shanties snuck out in between the courtly ballads. If it was for his penchant for sleeping with every hot-blooded creature on two legs, Jaskier might actually have been fairly tolerable. Voltehre had joked that Lambert was just jealous he hadn't got his dick wet yet. Asshole.
"And then what? You going to post the pelt back to Henselt with an apology letter and a bouquet of flowers?"
"Do you think he would accept such an offering?" Jaskier shot back, lower lip jutted, petulant. "No. I intended to hand it to you. A life for a life, a debt for a debt, I believe that is the motto of your kind, is it not?"
Lambert hadn't been expecting that. He paused long enough for his cynicism to correct the spark of hope that dared flicker in his chest. "Yeah, right."
"I mean it!" Jaskier said, his brows knitting together. "Upon my honour, I shall set you free."
"And why doesn't that fill me with confidence?"
"You'll see. Now, fetch your belongings. You speak to no one, do you understand? Not until we are safely at the border into Lyria. Meet me in the alcove behind the stables."
"Where you fucked the nursemaid last night?"
"Yes."
Lyria. Lambert knew it well. The King of Lyria and Rivia had Geralt and Gweld. Lambert had been hoping to whatever cunt of a deity that liked playing with mortals that the recent diplomatic situation between Kaedwen and Rivia cooled off. The last thing he wanted was to meet Geralt on the battlefield. It would be the first time they had seen each other in fifteen years; Meve didn't bring her Witchers to many official events. She preferred to leave them at home, keeping an eye on her brats.
Lambert headed off to his sparse quarters and gathered the few belongings he had. A battered old journal written by the bastard that had trained him, his sketchbook, his bestiary and his two clean shirts. With his pack and sword on his back, he met Jaskier. The bard had fashioned Lambert's pelt into a cloak, with a bronze clasp at his throat like some fucking parody of a hunter. Maybe he was. Wasn't he wearing the pelt of a wolf, after all? Jaskier flapped his hands once his lute was secure, "Right, you take the dappled one, I'll take–"
"Lambert?"
The blood in Lambert's veins ran cold. Voltehre. Fuck, fuck. He shouldn't be here. Shouldn't fucking be here. He was meant to be out hunting with Henselt. Lambert could smell the copper tang in the air–deer blood–as he turned. He locked eyes with Voltehre just as his partner of twenty years realised what was going on. Someone other than the King had Lambert's fur. Someone was trying to steal him. And what did your best friend do when he saw you in danger? He reached for his fucking sword. No, no, no, no!
Let no harm come to me.
Jaskier's eyes widened, his words froze in his chest, garbled by fear and shock. The curse took hold. Voltehre was a quick draw, but Lambert was quicker. He always had been, ever since they had sparred as children in the courtyard of Kaer Morhen, training to be the perfect bodyguards. Voltehre had always preferred books to fighting, although he could throw a mean right hook in a tavern brawl. In another life, he would have made a great scholar, perhaps even a fucking bard. It didn't matter now. The throwing knife whistled through the air and lodged itself in the only fatal gap in Voltehre's armour. His throat. His steel blade didn't even leave its sheath.
The copper smell intensified and Lambert choked. He watched in mute agony as Voltehre crumpled to the floor, Jaskier's orders ensuring he said not a word. Voltehre's hands scrambled at the hilt sitting between his raised collar, his crimson-stained lips opening and closing as his lungs filled. His blood trickled into the crevices between ancient flagstones, staining the straw and framing his golden curls in a macabre halo.
"Lambert–on the horse, get on the horse! They're coming. We need to go!" Jaskier's voice was shrill, and he shoved at Lambert with shaking hands. Clearly he didn't have quite the appetite for murder as he had indicated, because Lambert could see the terror in his eyes.
Lambert felt numb. His body obeyed even though his mind was paralysed. He swung into the saddle and spurred the unruly beast into a gallop. They cleared the gates in moments. Lambert made himself twist to look back at his friend, witnessing the last fitful twitches of his leg as life drained away. When Lambert turned back to face the green slopes beyond the castle walls, he stared at Jaskier's back and urged the sorrow into anger.
Tonight, he would mourn his friend. He would hide his tears in his jacket. Tomorrow, he would start counting the days until his freedom.
A life for a life.
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ficsforfundota · 1 year
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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Jaskier | Dandelion/Lambert Characters: Jaskier | Dandelion, Lambert (The Witcher) Additional Tags: Fae Jaskier, Fae Name Deals but not really, Save a Witcher Bingo, Soft Witchers (The Witcher), In love Witcher, Fae & Fairies, Monster Lover, Faes are Monsters IDK, Monster Lover March, Monster Fucker March, jaskier and lambert, fairy wings, Walking Amongst Humans, bard jaskier, Witchers Bathing, Bathtubs, Worries, teen for bathing, Kissing, Is Lambert Brain Washed?, idk - Freeform, Fae Magic, Fae Love, Bard Jaskier still even though hes Fae, Scared Jaskier | Dandelion, Nervousness, Confessions Series: Part 3 of Witcher Bingo, Part 1 of MonsterMarch Summary:
Jaskier is a Fae, and he never planned to give any human his name, until he met Lambert.
A Witcher.
So he finally gives Lambert his name, but he feels terrible for how long it took and wonders if he may lose his life or lose his lover.
Save a Witcher Bingo Slot Magic + Day one of Monster Lover/F*cker Bingo Rated Teen for a nakey bathtub Witcher and Fae time but nothing more @save-a-witcher-bingo
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sweetpeapod · 3 months
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🌹
Another sentence from the yet unnamed Lambskier WIP 🥰
The movement jolted Jaskier from the cusp of sleep, a frustrated groan emanating from his chest as the bitter cold found its way back under the blanket, wrapping itself like vines around every inch of flesh it could find.
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whataboutthefish · 1 year
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Day 15
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Prompt 15 Omorashi | Roleplay | Human Furniture
Lambert/Jaskier, Omorashi, Crying, Coming untouched, Coming in pants, Daddy kink
Words 839
Gods why hadn’t he pissed before his set. Jaskier was aching, every time he danced around, every shift of his lute, every high note he felt the pressure building. Just one more song and an encore, he could do this, he had to. Just the thought of pissing himself on stage made a cold shiver of shame rush over him, his stomach doing a flip and his head swimming.
From across the tavern Lambert watched, sitting in a dark corner, mercifully left alone due to his twin swords and yellow eyes. He had one hand on his tankard, the other palming his cock through his trousers. He grinned a menacing grin when the bard caught his eye, he knew the way Jaskier grimaced, hiding it behind a smile and a wink, knew that the extra beer he’d plied Jaskier with before his set had the desired effect. 
“Stress smells good on you, bard,” Lambert teased after the bard’s set finished. Catching Jaskier outside behind the tavern before he had a chance to loose his trousers, so desperate to piss, Lambert crowded into Jaskier’s space until his back hit the wall, a squeak falling from his lips.
“Lambert, please,” he begged, looking up, his eyes huge and round and starting to brim with unshed tears.
Lambert only smiled, one hand pushing into Jaskier bladder and laughing at the pained moan Jaskier made. He leant in scenting at Jaskier’s neck, then licked a strip up his jaw, “Mmm, smell so good. Need to piss, do you?” Lambert said, nipping the cut of his jaw and pushing one knee between Jaskier’s legs.
Denied being able to cross his legs, Jaskier’s heart rate soared, hammering like a little rabbit. “Lambert, just let up, come on,” Jaskier bit his lip, blinking rapidly and fought the tears that threatened to spill, “Please,“ he whispered. 
“Go on then, no ones stopping you,” Lambert replied, equally hushed and right into Jaskier’s ear, his wicked mouth nibbling on his ear lobe. 
Jaskier did cry then, a loud sob broke through the tension and Lambert grinned, the scent of piss, acrid and sour hit his nose. The bard had let out a spurt, another sob followed when he realised, fighting at Lambert’s solid immovable form, the knee between his legs that had shifted higher so he was almost on tiptoes
“Oh gods, Lambert,” Jaskier hiccuped, his cheeks flaming with shame, “I can’t,” 
“Sure you can. Just let go, Jaskier,” Lambert assured, voice soft and encouraging. His mouth returned to suck on the skin just below Jaskier’s ear, “be a good boy for Daddy,” Lambert coaxed, his voice sinfully low as his hips pushed forward, allowing Jaskier to feel every inch of him. 
The hand over Jaskier’s bladder pressed harder and Jaskier broke. Lambert groaned when he felt the first big spurt of hot liquid soak into the knee of his trousers, growling when Jaskier cried, his body shaking as he let go. Lambert couldn’t help nosing and scenting the bards neck, sucking on the skin there leaving marks as he got the pure scent of shame flooding from him. He pushed even closer, rubbing his hard cock against Jaskier, pushing into the soaked front of his pants. 
Jaskier held onto Lambert like his life depended on it, clung to his chest as the witcher ground himself into Jaskier’s shame. The way his head spun with pain, shame and lust he thought if Lambert removed his knee he’d surely fall into the puddle that spread below him. The thought made him hiccup another sob, and he desperately wanted to bury his head in Lambert’s chest to escape from the world. 
“Such a good boy,” Lambert rumbled, and Jaskier’s cock betrayed him, starting to fill as it twitched, the skin feeling raw against the damp linen of his smalls.
Lambert wouldn’t let anyone see him like this, Jaskier knew. No matter how much he hated this, loathed it, the thrill was undeniable and Lambert would keep him safe, he let himself go, groaning as he shifted his head to the side giving Lambert full access, he lost himself.
Lambert’s near constant growl was fed directly into his ear as he rutted against Jaskier, the sounds, the smell of his own piss and the pressure all adding up to an embarrassingly fast orgasm. It was the hand that clamped over his mouth and Lambert pushing into him, hiding him from view as he heard the sound of drunken footsteps walk by that made him fill with shame so fast he came with a muffled cry so hard he bit down on the palm of Lambert’s hand.
When they were alone again Lambert laughed, removing his hand and kissing Jaskier hard. 
“Come on baby, I’m going to ruin you when we get back to camp,” Lambert said with a growl, picking Jaskier up and tossing him over his shoulder, the way he was position Lambert would scent all of Jaskier, the salty addition of his come the icing on the cake for his witcher. 
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officerjennie · 2 years
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Would you mind doing 27 from the cliche tropes list with Jaskier/Lambert pairing? Or any other pairing of Jakier with a Witcher if it strikes you better?
Hey I actually found the list! "Help me I’m being hit on at a bar please be my fake boyfriend for a second".
just coupley things
CW: Lambert's a sneaky little bastard, betting, alcohol
Summary: Jaskier gets approached at a bar and helps a fella out.
Taglist: at the bottom - let me know if you want on/off it!
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It was as Jaskier was taking another sip of his vodka sour that a man slid in next to him at the bar. Widows peak, a scar that ran down one side of his face, and his eyes decidedly focused elsewhere - past Jaskier, with a scowl deep enough that Jaskier almost turned around to see what had drawn the man's ire.
"Pretend to be my boyfriend."
"Excuse me?" Jaskier's eyebrows were in his hairline now, his glass clinking against the bar with how forceful he sat it down. Certainly not what he'd expected the man to say but now the man's eyes were on him, intense with just the slightest bit of desperation in them.
"Pretend to be my boyfriend," he repeated, and then he was leaning towards Jaskier and- ah, yes, he could see it clearly then, so clearly he almost snorted with how comically wide the man's eyes got. "Every time - every single time I come here - the same woman hits on me. Don't know how many other ways I can tell her I like dick, 'cept maybe blowing someone right damn here at the bar, but I figured maybe just- I don't fucking now. Hand holding? Something coupley to make her take the gods damned hint for once."
"Coupley." Jaskier had to hide his grin behind his glass, and the man just nodded, running a hand through his hair as his eyes flicked across the crowd a bit wild.
"Yeah, that. Maybe a kiss? Would a kiss work?"
"Men who like men usually do kiss them," Jaskier nodded sagely.
He found himself sliding quite nicely into that man's arms that night, fitting quite well against him, and was blissfully ignorant to the grumbles two other men shared in the bar as one slid a well earned 20 towards the other - an unlikely bet over an unorthodox pickup line won.
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@fontegagrilledcheese @damnbert @mothmanismyuncle @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde @jaskierswolf @sulkyshengshou @trickstermoose67 @oldandkinky @blooodymoon  @kan0chan @silvermintnightprincess @flowercrown-bard @sharinalein @concussed-dragon @hayleynzlive @feral-jaskier @sweetiepieplum @stonedstargazer666 @deafeningnightcollection-things @luteandsword @eskelwolf @kmuir1 @little-boats-on-a-lake
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parkkrys · 2 years
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The Blue Incident
Jaskier/Lambert snippet. Someone wanted more content for this ship, who am I if I don't provide? All grammar mistakes are my own and I hope you enjoy!
Also this is game canon Lambert and this is posted on AO3 which you can find here
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No one around the keep expected for Jaskier and Lambert to get along. Words were always thrown at one another, insults and the levels of sass always at its highest. Vesemir only rolled his eyes at them, Eskel chuckling in amusement as Geralt questioned why he even brought the bard in the first place to the keep.  
Jaskier was a lil feral himself now after spending all these years traveling behind a witcher, watching people being murdered in front of him, seeing monsters in real life instead from stories. He may have lost his sanity but it added to his character, Jaskier always told them when they questioned him. 
Meeting Lambert was interesting in itself. Geralt had told him to be careful around him, not to speak of certain things. Jaskier was going to be on his best behaviour, afterall, he did promise his best friend. But all of that flew out the window within minutes of meeting the damn bastard. If Lambert was going to find ways to hurt him and get him angry, well Jaskier had every right to do the same. 
The first year they did not get along. The second year was a bit better, the third year they were actually friends. The fourth, was more like friends with benefits, the fifth lovers. 
Jaskier was quite proud of their progress really. Even if it meant doing things that Geralt scolded him for because the last thing Lambert needed was an enabler (Geralt’s words not his). 
“Hey pretty thing, have I got an idea for us,” Lambert said as he sat down at the breakfast table, interrupting his thoughts on their past. 
“Whatever it is, no,” Vesemir grunted and Jaskier only grinned. 
“Should have told me when we were in bed,” Jaskier pointed out and Lambert only rolled his eyes as he wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him into his lap. 
Lambert was a man that normally showed his affection through actions and when it was just them. The only time he showed it in front of others was normally when he was worried, or he was just being a little shit. Jaskier figured this must be the latter when he saw Geralt walk in, stop and only groan as he rolled his eyes. 
Jaskier would have to get the story of whatever happened out of them later. For now, he was just going to soak up the affection Lambert was giving him freely. 
“I was thinking of pulling something on Geralt later,” Lambert muttered into his ear as Geralt continued to groan as he sat down at the table. Jaskier only raised his brows and Lambert only grinned before he gave him a kiss. 
“You will be telling me the story before anything,” Jaskier only hummed and Lambert rolled his eyes but Jaskier knew he would. 
“Story about what?” Geralt grunted and Lambert only growled. 
“About how your white ass fell into the moat when we were younger,” The young wolf snarked and Geralt glared at him. 
“No you will not.” 
“You wanna bet?” 
“Boys, boys, boys, settle down the both of you. It’s far too early for this and afterall, Eskel already told me that story.” 
“He what!?” Geralt snarled before he was out of the room and Jaskier giggled as Lambert cackled. 
“Did he really tell you?” 
Jaskier only hummed as he picked up a piece of bread and gave Lambert a wink, more or less shoving the bread into his mouth while Vesemir only shook his head. Jaskier believed he heard Vesemir grumble something about young people these days before he left but he wasn’t sure. Lambert only grinned so Jaskier believed he was correct in his thinking. 
“What did Geralt do now to piss you off?” 
“We may have gotten into an argument about you,” Lambert only muttered before he buried his face into Jaskier’s neck and the bard frowned. 
“Whatever for?” 
“I wanted to ask if you wanted to travel with me this summer,” Jaskier perked up, he had always hoped but normally every year Lambert would never ask and it always made him a little bit disappointed every summer when he would leave with Geralt instead of Lambert, “And he said no, I would never be able to take care of you.” 
“What? But you do?” 
“He thinks I’m too selfish to take care of you.” 
Jaskier huffed as he wrapped his arms tighter around his witcher. He understood Geralt was looking out for him, but this was cruel. Lambert had a temper. Yes, he could be reckless at times but he always cared for him. He always made sure he was safe first. He wanted to give Geralt a piece of his mind. 
“What did you have in mind?” Jaskier huffed and Lambert only beamed. 
“Wanna dye his hair blue, thinking about doing it in the springs where he doesn’t really notice what he is putting in his hair.” 
“That’s because I am normally the one to give him the oils and shampoo for his hair love.” 
“That’s why I need your help, pretty bard.” 
Jaskier hummed as he frowned, he wasn’t sure if this was the right way to go, “Do you even have the dye?” 
“Of course I do! Got it before I came up here,” Lambert scoffed and Jaskier still hesitated. 
“Will it wash out?” 
“No fucking idea,” Lambert laughed and Jaskier sighed. “He also said there was no way you would agree with traveling with me.” 
“What!? That bastard, let’s do it.” 
“Now we’re talking!” Lambert smiled as he stood up, jaskier squeaking as he wrapped his arms around his witcher's neck, “Don’t worry pretty bard, I won’t drop you.” 
“You better not, now to the baths witcher!” 
He heard Lambert grumble, but he did what Jaskier said and he took it as a win. 
By the time Geralt and Eskel came in the baths, he and Lambert had everything ready and oh was Jaskier excited to see how this would work. Eskel only smiled widely at him while Geralt only nodded before both witchers were naked and in the water. 
“So, you two on better terms?” Jaskier only asked and Geralt only glared at Eskel who only grinned. 
“Geralt apparently didn’t like that I told you about the moat incident when we were younger.” 
“No I did not,” Geralt grumbled and Jaskier only chuckled as Eskel winked at the bard. 
It was quick to pull out the oils that he knew Geralt approved of and to line them up by the edge; he knew the water was going to turn blue but Lambert told him that it was an easy fix for the hot springs. He only gave Eskel a nod to show him that another one of Lambert’s plans were in the works and Eskel only hummed as he shrugged. 
Seemed like Eskel wasn’t going to stop anything and Lambert would be pleased if he were here. 
“Now Geralt, remember this one is to sit in your hair for a while before you wash it out.” 
Geralt only hummed as Jaskier poured the blue oil into white locks, capping the empty vial before he started to massage the oil into the hair. Geralt only hummed, his eyes slipping closed and Eskel only stared with wide eyes before he shook his head. Huh, Eskel really wasn’t going to stop this. 
Lambert would be more than pleased. 
“Alright, now just rest and let it do it’s thing.” Jaskier whispered as he frowned at the blueness of his hands. His hands better not be blue after this or he was going to make Lambert work for his forgiveness. 
Now all there was left was to wait and oh did Jaskier wait as he grinned. Eskel only looked amused as he climbed out of the springs, drying off quickly. It wasn’t long until Lambert waltzed in, looking absolutely ecstatic that Geralt still hadn't noticed yet. 
“Gonna head off now, you boys take care of yourselves,” Jaskier called before he was out of there, immediately going to his room to scrub the blue off his hands. It was difficult, and he wasn’t thrilled but after a few minutes most of it managed to come off. He would have to thank Lambert for leaving the water hot rather than cold. 
It was only a few moments later when he heard Geralt roar and he laughed. He could only hope that Lambert would come back to him in one piece. He only hoped that Geralt wouldn’t be too mad at him for allowing it to happen because, well, he did have a big hand in this one. 
He only grinned, he had what was coming to him anyway, he wasn’t going to regret it. And later on when they all sat down for dinner, Jaskier laughed to the point he was on the floor after looking at Geralt and all the blue that was his hair. 
“You’re not safe either Jaskier,” Gerat warned and Jaskier only nodded as he tried to breathe. 
“I think it suits you,” Eskel wheezed out and it only sent the rest of them back into fits of laughter. 
“Should have never allowed you two to meet,” Geralt growled as Lambert picked Jaskier up from the floor and into his lap. 
“Nah, it was the best thing you did.”  
“Don’t worry Geralt, lots of hot water and a little bit of time will get it out,” Jaskier offered as his apology and Geralt only shook his head before nodding, his quiet acceptance of his apology and Jaskier knew all was well. “But I still have to give you a piece of my mind White Wolf.” 
Geralt only frowned before he seemed to freeze and Jaskier knew that the other man got what exactly he was talking about. It also seemed Geralt knew there was no escape to it. Good. Let the man worry. Lambert was the best thing that happened to him and Geralt needed to have that drilled into him, apparently.
Just meant more fun for him in some ways. 
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