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Livy's SFW Shorts

Summary:

Here's a selection of short SFW stuff from my Tumblr! All fics are less than 1k - check out the rest of the series for more :)s

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Chapter 1: Fluff, Modern!AU (Eskel x Lambert x Letho)

Summary:

Their BBQ may have been cancelled because of the weather, but Lambert’s boyfriends are determined to make sure he doesn’t spend his first day off on weeks feeling grumpy

Chapter Text

Lambert sulked on the sofa, arms crossed and the hood of Letho’s hoodie pulled up around his head. He glared out of the window where rain was steadily falling outside. He’d been looking forward to that BBQ lunch for ages, even taking the day off work, only for it now to be cancelled due to the weather. Lambert glared at the raindrops on the glass, tying the strings of the hoodie together under his chin to block out the sound of it a little more. 

Fucking rain’ He thought. He hadn’t seen anyone apart from his boyfriends in weeks and as soon as they’d all finally arranged to meet together, this happened? Typical. 

Letho and Eskel seemed to have been taking the hit better though. They always had been more laid back. Sometimes, Lambert’s nature made him feel like a drama queen when compared to his two stable, steady boyfriends, but he’d been assured countless times that no one saw him like that. In fact, they loved his fireyness, he was the element of their triad that kept things interesting. 

From his seat, Lambert could hear Letho pottering around in the kitchen, no doubt saving their food and putting it in the freezer for another time. He wasn’t sure where Eskel was though, probably doing something boring like housework.

For a moment, Lambert debated playing some video games. He’d been stuck on a specific level for weeks and had been meaning to ask Letho to team up to complete it once and for all. But feeling as grumpy and disappointed as he did, Lambert knew he’d only find Letho’s admittedly superior skill annoying. He’d been really quite sweet recently so the last thing Lambert wanted to do was end that by snapping at him. 

He was distracted though, when a warm hand smoothed over the hood of the hoodies. Looking up, Lambert spied Eskel smiling down at him from behind the sofa. He bigger man let out a light laugh when he took in Lambert’s appearance - cute and pouty with the hood pulled tight around his face. 

“You still feelin’ blue, baby?” He asked softly. Lambert let out a grumble. He loved the petname and Eskel’s smooth voice soothed him like nothing else, but he wasn’t quite finished being grouchy just yet. Eskel’s snort indicated he knew just what Lambert was thinking. “We’ll find another say to organise it - no harm done.” A soft kiss was pressed to the top of Lambert’s head, strong hands massaging at his hunched shoulders. “No point spending your whole day off being sad…” 

“Hmph.” Lambert knew he was right. Eskel pressed his face into the hood and breathed deeply, a hand sliding round to Lambert’s front and curling around his chest to get him to lean back into the sofa and relax a little more. Lambert felt a little better for it but some lingering disappointment at how the day had turned out still remained. He missed his friends. He’d got his hopes up to see them today, even looking forward to bickering with Vesemir. All in vain it seemed. 

Taking another deep breath, Eskel rounded the sofa, one hand on Lambert’s shoulder at all times, before settling himself down heavily next to the ginger. The jumper he wore looked soft and inviting to Lambert and he found himself leaning into Eskel’s chest without even meaning to. His boyfriend was nothing but receptive though and pulled Lambert onto his lap with little fuss. They adjusted and settled with Lambert’s ass nestled between thick thighs, legs draped over one while his back rested in the crook of Eskel’s arm. He leaned heavily into the larger man, tucking his head beneath Eskel’s chin. That certainly did help to make up for how the day had gone. 

“Aw… my grumpy baby…” Eskel murmured before pressing several smacking kisses to Lambert’s temple. Lambert whined and grumbled, embarrassed even though he liked the attention. Eskel’s arms wrapped around him like ropes, keeping him secure and firm against his chest as he squirmed. 

Letho padded across the soft carpet towards them, a bar of chocolate in hand. It was the nice, expensive brand they saved for special occasions. As he took in the sight of Lambert and Eskel curled up on the sofa, his eyes dilated. 

“I’m thinkin’ we stick a film on and eat until we’re sick.” 

“Sounds like a plan.” Came Eskel’s quiet reply, smiling and resting his cheek on the top of Lambert’s head. The other grunted his agreement. “Any preferences?” 

“Saw.” Lambert suggested, just to be petulant. Eskel’s hatred and disgust of gore was always good to poke fun at. Letho snorted when Eskel made an unhappy sound. 

“If that’s really what you want…” Their perfect martyr. Lambert wasn’t feeling particularly cruel though, so shook his head. 

Letho joined them on the sofa, the other two letting out soft ‘oofs’ when his weight shifted them. He stretched an arm over the back of the sofa and shuffled to the side to capture Eskel under it, pulling both he and Lambert closer. After leaning across to steal a kiss from both, he dragged the other’s legs into his lap, the three of them winding around each other intimately. As Eskel pressed more kisses into his hairline, Lambert finally allowed himself to settle, his boyfriends ever a stabilizing, grounding force around him. 

Chapter 2: Fluff (Geralt x Jaskier)

Summary:

All Jaskier wants on Valentine’s day is his boyfriend to kiss him unashamedly and out in the open. He’ll have to use his powers of persuasion to get his own way though

Chapter Text

It was valentine's day in Redania and the atmosphere of the town reflected that. Street vendors flogged their usual wears but as well as that, their stalls were filled with flowers and trinkets - gifts and keepsakes for loved ones. As well as the decorations that lined the streets and buildings, there seemed to be something different in the very air too. Couples were out in force everywhere. Many held hands and even more had their arms around each other. Everywhere Jaskier could see there were smiles and kisses shared, the entire town apparently feeling giddy.

Geralt didn’t care much for these kinds of celebrations. In his opinion, they were superficial and a waste of time. But that being said, on days like that one, people were less likely to turn him away and make rude comments and were more likely to pay well for contracts. Geralt would take that kind of improvement any day, even if it did mean being surrounded by excited young couples.

Unlike his solemn witcher, Jaskier did care for such occasions. He’d always been a romantic at heart so it was unsurprising. Today though, there was something unexpectedly disappointment flowing through his veins too. When Jaskier looked at the couples talking through lanes hand in hand, he felt a cold spike of jealousy. Why couldn’t he have that? Jaskier didn’t mean simply someone to love - he and Geralt had been in a relationship for almost a year already. What Jaskier envied was having his love show affection to him in public, unabashed and unashamed of what others might think.

Even just one look at Geralt was enough to guess that he didn’t like PDA - Jaskier had long since accepted that about him. In private, he was only slightly better and Jaskier had already resigned himself to a life of being the instigator in that regard. In Geralt’s defense though, he had been improving. Usually, all it took was a little push for the other to keel over like a deck of cards in the wind.

Jaskier took hold of Geralt’s sleeve and tugged lightly. Geralt grunted but didn’t turn away from where he was settling roach into her stable stall. Jaskier tugged again.

“Geralt? I want a kiss.” He whined. The witcher didn’t have to see him to scene the pout on his lips.

“Not now.” He murmured, soft but firm. Sure, the stable was a secluded area, but there were still people milling about and it would do Geralt’s reputation little good to be seen sucking the face off his bard. Jaskier made a raspberry sound in defiance and swung his arms petchulently.

“Just once? One kiss and I’ll stop annoying you, I promise.”

“Your promises mean precious little to me, lark.”

The size of Jaskier’s pout grew exponentially as he plastered himself to Geralt’s back. He pressed his face into the witcher’s shoulder blades in what he hoped was an annoying, hindering display.

After a long moment, Geralt shoved him off with a heavy sigh.

While the motion might have been a little haisty and rough, Geralt’s lips were soft and gentle against his as the two of them shared a kiss. It was chaste but sweet, Geralt’s fingertips ghosting under Jaskier’s chin to tilt his head up and a hand lingering on his waist for a long moment.

All too soon for Jaskier’s taste, Geralt pulled back, his expression something between exasperation and fondness. If there was a blush on Geralt’s cheeks, Jaskier certainly wouldn’t be the one to say anything. Jaskier smiled back. Now that he’d gotten what he’d asked for, he skipped away happily, humming to himself as he went to inquire about a room for the night. Geralt looked around the courtyard rather anxiously but no one had so much looked their way.

Chapter 3: Arguing, Sexual tension, Humor (Jaskier x Lambert)

Summary:

Once again, Jaskier and Lambert get into another argument filled with sexual tension. Geralt just wishes they’d stop involving other people and dancing around each other.

Notes:

Requested by Anon

Chapter Text

As Jaskier and Lambert continued with their senseless bickering, their voices were beginning to grate on Geralt. He could feel a headache brewing. Tired of it, he closed his eyes for a moment to try and find some inner peace, looking away from his book. 

He was sat at one end of the sofa they kept in the library, examining a manuscript so ancient it was practically turning to dust in his hands. Jaskier sat opposite him, close to the fire, curled up in an armchair. The notebook he’d been writing in had been abandoned on his legs in favour of arguing with the second witcher who pretended to be examining something on a bookshelf across the room. 

Geralt knew as well as Jaskier did that Lambert had no reason to be in the library. The younger witcher barely tried to make excuses for himself anymore, simply turning up wherever Jaskier happened to be. And sadly, more often than not, that also meant Geralt was there too. 

They’d been arguing all winter, pointless insults and bickering flying both ways but not doing much damage. Geralt knew that neither one hated the other, quite the opposite in fact. When Lambert truly hated someone, he was quiet and avoided them at all costs. But that evidently wasn’t the case here. 

Geralt would have had no problem with their squabbling if it weren’t for the thick sexual tension that their arguments provided. It had been growing since he’d first introduced the pair several weeks ago but as of yet, neither had done anything about it. The tension only seemed to spur their arguments on and Geralt guessed that Lambert had reverted to insults to avoid addressing the elephant in the room when it came to their relationship. Jaskier, naive as ever, had fallen for it. The biggest point of irritation for Geralt, though, was how the two always seemed to make their arguments everyone else’s business, too. 

“Go on Geralt,” Jaskier turned to him, passion in his voice. “Tell him about the time I saved you from that kikimore!” The white-haired man sighed heavily and opened his eyes. 

“You didn’t technically-” 

“Ha! See?” Lambert cut him off and Geralt regretted opening his mouth at all. “You’re not so courageous after all. Just like I said - bards are all talk!” Geralt agreed but knew that Lambert was all talk too. “You can’t hurt a fly! I bet Geralt has to do everything for you, right Geralt?” Geralt hummed ambiguous but gave nothing away other than acknowledgement. 

“I’m not some delicate flower you know!”

“Your name would suggest otherwise. I’m surprised so many women want you when you’re built like a reed. I’m surprised you could even haul your own body weight up to the keep at all! Or did Geralt do that too?” 

“Women and men ,” Jaskier made sure to emphasize, Lambert blinking rapidly as he processed this new information. “Are aware of just how deceiving my fine clothes can be. I’m deceptively strong you know! But the fashion for bards is otherwise so I have to compensate because that’s what people pay for. It doesn’t make me any less of a man than you!” Geralt knew that Jaskier, although comfortable in his masculinity, was still conscious of appearances. 

“You couldn’t pick up a bag of four.” Lambert laughed. Geralt saw a flicker of determination cross Jaskier’s eyes and knew that the bard had had enough. 

He tore from the chair, notebook falling noiselessly onto the carpet, and marched over to Lambert. A little perturbed and unsure of where things were headed, Lambert took a small step back and his eyes flicked over to Geralt for reassurance. Even if Geralt had been willing to give it, he wouldn’t have had the opportunity before Jaskier was grabbing him and throwing him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. 

The sound Lambert made was very un-manly indeed, hands immediately scrabbling at Jaskier’s back for balance as his legs kicked out weakly, none of the force Geralt knew they possessed. 

Making his way back over with long, confident strides, Lambert was all but thrown onto the sofa beside Geralt, bouncing slightly on the cushions. He looked up at Jaskier with wide eyes, hair and clothing disheveled. Geralt rolled his own when he noticed how large Lambert’s pupils had become, taking over most of his iris as he stared. Geralt noted the beginnings of arousal in the air. 

“Oh, nothing to say? Speechless at my display of strength? I’ll consider that a win, my darling!” Jaskier grinned triumphantly before giving a theatrical bow and resuming his previous seat. 

Lambert said and did nothing for a long moment, the scent of arousal thickening and offending Geralt’s nose. He blinked rapidly after a while, as if his mind had only just caught up with the previous events and stood stiffly. Lambert left the room like the building had been on fire and Geralt didn’t have to (and didn’t want to) stretch his imagination too far to know what Lambert would do next. He sighed to himself, tired of it all, and prayed to all the gods he knew that they’d pull their heads out of their asses soon. 

Chapter 4: Fluff, sharing clothes (Lambert x Aiden)

Summary:

When Aiden gets in from a stressful day at work, Lambert is there to make things better

Notes:

Requested by miriel-estelwen

Chapter Text

Aiden sighed heavily as he dropped his keys into the little bowl that rested on the kitchen table. His arms felt like lead as he shrugged off the thin jacket he wore and cursed his previous self for choosing to wear it today. It was raining heavily outside, a storm well on the way, and his jacket hadn’t been waterproof. Beneath that, Aiden’s shirt was damp too, wholly uncomfortable and clinging to his skin in all the wrong places. He wanted to lose his temper and rip the damned thing off but contained himself, if only barely. ‘A bad end to an even worse day.’ All Aiden wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep but he knew the responsible thing to do would be to shower first - and make sure Lambert had been alright at home for the day. 

“Lamb?” He called out, getting a sleepy grunt in answer that led his search to the living room. 

Following the noise and the quiet sounds coming from the TV, Aiden entered the room, feet dragging against the soft carpet. Lambert was sprawled out on his side on the sofa, eyes half-closed and glazed as Netflix played on quietly in the background. He wore one of Aiden’s old hoodies, a little tight across the shoulders and a little too long on the arms, the cords slightly frayed from where Aiden had chewed them a little during university. Lambert’s hair stuck up in a hundred different directions but that didn’t detract from how beautiful he looked. Although he looked as exhausted as Aiden was, he perked up a little when he saw his boyfriend. 

“Hey.” He murmured hoarsely with a sleepy smile. 

Lambert was still predictably jet lagged after Aiden picked him up from a long-haul flight the evening before. He’d gone to see Geralt for a few weeks, his brother living a good 8 hours away even by plane. What possessed Geralt to move so far away from his family, Aiden would never understand - but he was almost glad of it when it resulted in Lambert looking so sleepy and adorable. 

He wore Aiden’s hoodie, wrapped up with a blanket around his shoulders looking impossibly soft and relaxed. He felt privileged to be one of the few people that got to see Lambert like this and thought back to the prickly, defensive man he’d first met a few years ago. Aiden wanted nothing more than to crawl into his arms and sleep, shutting out the world, but knew he should deal with all the other shit he had to do first. He realised he’d been gazing at Lambert silently for too long when the other sat up, giving Aiden his full attention. 

“You should probably get out of the suit, it looks wet.” Aiden only grunted in response. Someone else may have snapped that obviously he should get changed but Aiden didn’t want to project his shitty day onto his boyfriend. “Bad day at work?” Lambert was surprisingly perceptive with the people he knew well. 

Aiden nodded and watched as Lambert stood without further comment, taking the blanket with him. Aiden couldn’t help but feel a little bad for disturbing him but put that thought to the back of his mind - he was allowed to have comfort when it was offered. 

Lambert shuffled closer and planted his face firmly into Aiden’s neck, the other man being several inches taller than him. His hands grasped at the sodden material at Aiden’s sides gently. It probably wasn’t comfortable considering how damp and clammy Aiden was but his heart still fluttered at the gesture and Lambert didn’t seem to mind. Aiden’s shoulders rose as he took a deep breath, wrapping his arms around Lambert and feeling how soft the blanket he wore was. 

They stayed wrapped up like that for a long moment until Aiden shivered. Despite the warmth that Lambert brought, standing around in wet clothes was enough to make anyone feel cold. 

“How about I run you a bath and we order in some food? I think you still have one of Jaskier’s bath bombs left - the passion fruit one…” Aiden could cry with how nice that sounded, a luxury after the stressful day he’d had. Lambert always knew what he needed. 

“Yeah…” His voice was raspy as he gave Lambert a gentle squeeze and a kiss on the temple. “Sounds nice…” 

At that, Lambert smiled and took his hand to lead him to the bathroom and thoroughly care for the other man. Of course, Aiden went willingly, allowing himself to be guided like a child. Only a fool would refuse such an offer of comfort. 

“Do you wanna tell me about it? Your day?” 

Aiden hummed, mind slow as he mulled it over. Lambert’s promise sounded like the best thing in the world and he didn’t want to ruin that with venting - at least not tonight. 

“Maybe tomorrow.” Lambert didn’t push.

Chapter 5: Fluff, Modern!AU (Aiden x Cahir x Eskel x Lambert)

Summary:

After a stressful day at work, Cahir almost lets his insecurities get the better of him, but his boyfriends are there to pick him back up.

Chapter Text

Cahir chewed thoughtfully at the cuticle of his thumbnail, stomach digging into the kitchen counter as he leant against it. When he’d come home late from work and found his loves already in their pyjamas, cuddled up under a ridiculous amount of blankets, Cahir had been planning on joining them. With a smile and a tired wave, Eskel had told him to get changed and join the cuddle pile, but wanting to do something nice for the three of them, Cahir had decided to make them all hot chocolates first. 

The kettle clicked off behind him, now boiled, but Cahir took little notice, eyes fixed on the cubby hole that lay in the wall between the kitchen and the living room. Although the sofa was at an angle, he could see the rest of them clearly; and they made such a pretty picture that Cahir was reluctant to join in and ruin it, hesitating just out of sight. 

Eskel, Lambert and Aiden were practically wrapped around each other, none of them knowing where one body ended and another began. A film played quietly on the TV, something old that Cahir couldn’t quite remember the name of - but old films were always Eskel’s favourite. Aiden’s hands carded gently through Lambert’s hair, the redhead leaning heavily on Aiden’s shoulder, both their eyes fixed on the screen. Eskel was much the same, holding one of their socked feet in a large hand, thumb idly massaging over the ball of their foot every once in a while. 

They looked so relaxed and at ease with each other, almost like something out of a painting. Cahir felt a pang in his chest, wanting to join in but not being able to do so without upsetting the atmosphere the three of them had created for themselves. He was still new to this relationship, the other three having been together for several years prior to meeting Cahir. And as it was his first polyamarous relationship, Cahir was more than a little afraid of setting a foot wrong and messing things up. 

As he gazed at them, Cahir wasn’t… jealous exactly - he just wished he was welcome there too; in the middle of it, underneath their blankets, perhaps allowed to cuddle with the stuffed animal Aiden insisted he didn’t need but still brought out each time they had a quiet night in like this. Although Eskel had told him to get changed and join them, Cahir still wasn’t sure, the boundaries of where he was welcome not quite clear in his mind. 

But then Lambert turned his head up into Aiden’s hands, the brunette’s fingers scratching along his scalp and drawing a shiver from Lambert that Cahir could see from the other room. Eskel chuckled lowly at something on the TV when Lambert caught sight of him through the cubby hole. A soft smile was sent Cahir’s way, something uniquely Lambert yet kept private, only for moments such as these. 

“Get a move on, Mouse ! I’ve still got an arm free and I need someone to cuddle with it.” Lambert lifted up the end of the blanket which had been tucked under his rear in offering and Cahir felt whatever had gripped his chest ease considerably. His shoulders sagged with it, finally relaxing after his long day. 

Forgetting about the hot chocolate he was half-way through making, Cahir was quick to follow through with Lambert’s demand, making his way to the living room with haste. After reassuring smiles from all three occupants of the sofa, Cahir was quick to dive into the only space left, at Lambert’s side. 

He cuddled up under Lambert’s arm, barely restraining himself from making a noise at the warmth of his boyfriend’s body compared with the slight chill of the rest of the house. Worming his way under Lambert’s arm, Cahir couldn’t help but press his face into Lambert’s neck for a moment, grounding himself. The arm around him tightened and Cahir relaxed completely, even more so when Aiden’s hands reached under the blankets to tug Cahir’s feet into his lap, someone else’s foot entering his own lap in return. 

‘They still love me.’ Cahir reassured himself internally with a deep sigh. He let that fact seep into his very core, fighting away the negative thoughts he’d allowed to consume him after such a stressful day at work.

“Bad day?” Aiden’s voice was quiet, the soothing atmosphere so thick it could have been cut with a knife. A hand squeezed his foot and wormed its way under Cahir’s pyjamas, curling around an ankle and stroking softly. The man extracted himself from Lambert’s neck to reply. 

“Wasn’t great…” That may have been the understatement of the century but Cahir got the impression the rest of them knew that, already being familiar with how Cahir tended to under-play his emotions. 

“Aw…” Aiden responded. He squirmed for a moment, fishing under the blankets for something before pulling out his stuffed toy - a giraffe named Jennifer if Cahir recalled correctly. It’s plush fur was worn with decades of use, Aiden having had the toy since childhood, but it was warm. 

Cahir’s eyes flicked from the toy to Aiden’s once again, as if double checking that the toy was being offered in all seriousness and not as a joke. Aiden only smiled, shaking the offering slightly. Once he knew it was alright to do so, Cahir was quick to take the toy and clutch it to his chest, nestling it between himself and Lambert. 

The last of the day’s tension left Cahir then, leaving him blissfully relaxed and sleepy. He hated when his insecurities flared up like they had, but he knew that with three such wonderful boyfriends, they’d never get the better of him again.

Chapter 6: Fluff, Modern!AU (Jaskier x Lambert)

Summary:

Spending his afternoon standing in Eskel’s kitchen practically attached to a whisk wasn’t how Lambert had expected things to pan out. But after Jaskier had begged him for help making a surprise tiramisu for Vesemir’s birthday, Lambert had been powerless to say no.

Notes:

For the lovely Jjay who gave me this idea!

Chapter Text

Lambert frowned down at the glass mixing bowl, hair falling irritatingly into his eyes no matter how much he flipped his head to try and flick the offending strands away. His hand ached, as did the rest of his arm, cramp beginning to set in from whisking for so long. It had to be done by hand, Jaskier had told him – an electric whisk would somehow spoil the texture of the cream. Lambert knew fuck all about cooking, and even less about baking, so he’d had to take Jaskier’s word for it.

Spending his afternoon standing in Eskel’s kitchen practically attached to a whisk wasn’t how Lambert had expected things to pan out. But after Jaskier had begged him for help making a surprise tiramisu for Vesemir’s birthday, Lambert had been powerless to say no.

Personally, he thought the idea was caring at best, idiotic at worst – there was no love lost between Lambert and Vesemir, even if the old fuck bad brought Lambert up mostly by himself. But refusing Jaskier hadn’t and could never be an option for the redhead, even if he’d wanted to. He’d been harbouring a secret and closely-guarded crush on Geralt’s best friend for a number of years now – practically ever since the two had been introduced. Up until that day, the two of them had barely spent any time alone together, so of course Lambert had jumped at the chance to talk to Jaskier one-on-one.

Still whisking and trying to ignore the pain of his cramping fingers, Lambert flicked his eyes over to the brunet. The slight rosy tinge that came to his cheeks was practically impossible to suppress – Lambert always did blush at the slightest provocation, though usually he did his best to hide that behind harsh words and growls. But he could never do that to Jaskier. He’d give the other man the world if he could.

Fuck. Lambert kicked himself, frown deepening. Jaskier was Geralt’s best friend – practically the only one his brother had. He couldn’t ruin this for him! What if Jaskier rejected Lambert’s advances outright and things were made awkward between he and Geralt? And even worse, what if Lambert and Jaskier began to date, only to break up later? He couldn’t do that to Geralt. He couldn’t force him to take sides. Jaskier was off limits.

Blue eyes flicked up to Lambert’s amber ones, crinkling at the corners when Jaskier smiled brightly. That expression was like the sun, at least in Lambert’s view – utterly beautiful yet all too painful to look at for long. Needless to say, lambert couldn’t hold his gaze.

He picked up the pace of his whisking from where it had slowed, glaring down at the cream rather angrily as if that were the root of his issues and not his infatuation with someone he could never have. Some of the cream splattered up, a droplet on the jumper he wore while a second landed on his cheek.

Before Lambert could growl, and he was certainly going to, a finger wiped across the skin just under his eye, taking the rogue cream with it. Lambert froze for a moment and could only blink before he realised who the finger belonged to.

By the time his mind caught up with him enough to look over at Jaskier, wide-eyed and startled, the brunet was already popping the finger into his mouth, hollowing out his cheeks a little and licking off the cream, holding Lambert’s gaze all the while. Lambert was quite certain that this was a dream.

“Keep whisking sweetheart, we don’t want any lumps in Vesemir’s pudding, do we?”

Abruptly, Lambert’s hands sprung into motion again, still burning from the prolonged use. How long did it take to whip cream anyway?

Jaskier’s smile was self-satisfied and somewhat lazy (much like a cat who’d got the cream, if you can forgive the expression). The plastic packaging of the chocolate sponge he’d bought crinkled as he pried it open, studying it for a brief moment before that paralysing gaze turned back to Lambert.

“Pass me that chopping board- oh, no, the blue one please.” Lambert did as instructed, having to slow his whisking while he did so since he was unable to keep the bowl steady with his other hand occupied. There was that smile again, a twinkle in Jaskier’s eye. “Thank you, darling!”

And then, so unexpected that Lambert was given no time to react, a kiss was placed on his cheek, right over where the cream had splattered on him before.

Once again, Lambert froze, whisking included.

What the fuck?

He blinked rapidly, unable to say anything, do anything or even breathe for a long moment. Jaskier couldn’t be into him… could he?

The brunet didn’t say a word, though he let out a light chuckle when he noticed Lambert’s stunned expression. It wasn’t mocking, though. It seemed almost fond.

“The fuck did you do to Lambert? It looks like you’ve melted his brain.” Eskel’s footfalls were heavy against the tiled floor as he came in, cake tin in hand. Neither replied. 

Chapter 7: Whump (Jaskier & Rience - not romantic)

Summary:

Jaskier’s inner monologue during that rather dark scene in season 2 involving Rience and our beloved bard...

Notes:

On Tumblr, I rated this fic as M for violence and torture but since it's not sexual in anyway, it's going in this work and not in my NSFW version. Be mindful of the above themes and the summary and if that's something you don't think you can handle, there's no pressure to read :)

Chapter Text

A high, desperate sound forced itself from Jaskier’s throat, scratchy and raw from his screaming. But by that point, the pain was indistinguishable from all the others – one melting into the next in the same manner as the skin on the tips of his fingers, singed and slick with blood. Looking down at the broken digits made him queasy and Jaskier squeezed his eyes closed tightly, clogged with tears and grit. Clenching his teeth was all he could do not to cry. He wouldn’t give Rience the satisfaction.

The bastard was getting off on this. That sick grin would be the last thing Jaskier saw, and they both knew it. Even if the bard spilled all he knew (which was admittedly, not much), there was still no way he was getting out of this alive. The light of the flames reflected in that madman’s eyes, illuminating the excitement and sick satisfaction Rience got from his torture.

Any thoughts of rescue were hopeless. Jaskier may have been a dreamer, but he wasn’t a fool. Though he had more than his fair share of friends, none of them were the fighting sort and Jaskier knew he couldn’t count on them to get him out of this… whatever the fuck this was.

Unbidden, thoughts of Geralt sprung to his mind – of the way the two of them had parted. Jaskier sniffed wetly at the memory, grunting as Rience moved onto yet another finger. He’d never be able to play the lute again, that much was certain.

Geralt. Though thinking of the witcher was painful, it was a different kind of agony and a welcome distraction from having his flesh boiled off his bones. He couldn’t count on the White Wolf to save him. Not this time. Perhaps his abandonment was what Jaskier deserved after all those years of being an annoying parasite, leaching off another’s stories for his own fame.

No, perhaps Jaskier didn’t deserve to be saved after all. But if he could die doing one thing, something useful , he would – even if that was only holding this fire fucker up long enough to give Geralt and his child surprise some breathing room. Sure, they’d never find out about his sacrifice (Jaskier doubted anyone would find his body at all), but that wasn’t the point. Jaskier would die for those he loved. He was ready.

A scream tore from his throat as Rience started on his other hand. It was a good thing Jaskier had accepted his fate since surviving likely meant not being able to pick up a pen either. The smell of his skin burning, cooking, was almost as nauseating as the pain and the horrid sizzling sound that came with it. The mage laughed at his pain, grin impossibly wide and eyes bright and excited.

It was just as Jaskier was beginning to lose consciousness, body finally going into shock from the pain, that he heard the sound of the door swinging open and muddled footsteps as someone stumbled in. Vision hazy and blurred with tears and blood, Jaskier could only make out the vague shape of a purple cloak before he fell unconscious.

Chapter 8: Fluff, old!Jaskier (Geralt x Jaskier)

Summary:

His hair may be grey and his skin may be creased with wrinkles, but when Geralt looks at Jaskier, all he sees is the fresh-faced, blue-eyed boy from posanda

Chapter Text

In from putting the animals to bed, Geralt stopped at the doorway into the living room. The fire crackled merrily in the hearth, calming background noise to the slow, steady beat of his husband’s heart. The light of it cast flickering shadows over Jaskier’s face where he was sat, curled up in an armchair by the bookcase with a book in his hands. 

His hair was turning grey before Geralt’s eyes and more wrinkles appeared on his skin almost daily but when he looked at the other man, he still saw Jaskier as he was the day they first met - 18 and just out of Oxenfurt. In the decades since then, they’d done so much together but some things never changed. Even now, Geralt still got the same feeling of butterflies in his stomach whenever Jaskier turned his gaze on him and called him darling. 

Those blue eyes, though, slipped closed in the flickering light. Geralt watched silently as his head began to nod and droop, entire body relaxing as he dozed. While it was still early in the night, it didn’t take much to tire Jaskier out these days. Gone were the times when the bard could walk for miles and even climb mountains without complaint but Geralt didn’t mind. Neither of them travelled much anymore anyway and when Geralt did take the occasional contract, he never wandered far from home. The warmth of the South was good for both of them, Jaskier’s joints thawing just as Geralt’s heart did. 

Geralt made no move to catch Jaskier’s book as it dropped onto the plush rug below, Jaskier now slumped in his seat in a rather awkward position. Geralt knew he’d need to move his husband to avoid them becoming stiff, but took a moment just to look instead. If he could commit each detail to memory, perhaps it would hurt less when he was finally gone. Geralt knew it wouldn’t work but that didn’t change a thing. 

“Time for bed, I think…” He murmured, finally gathering up the willpower to disturb the scene before him. Jaskier didn’t give any indication he’d heard the witcher but Geralt expected none. 

He lifted Jaskier off the armchair and into his arms, doing his best to make the transition smooth so the bard wasn’t jolted awake. Despite this, Jaskier’s eyes still opened minutely, something garbled and mumbled into Geralt’s shirt as he pressed himself closer. If Geralt’s heart skipped a beat as he did so, no one else was around to hear it. Jaskier’s eyes closed again, trusting Geralt not to drop him. He always fell asleep quicker in Geralt’s arms than anywhere else. 

After tucking a borderline-snoring Jaskier into his side of the bed, setting his reading glasses on the nightstand, Geralt flit around the room. He did so most nights, ensuring that Jaskier wasn’t left wanting a single thing. He always got a sense of pride for caring for those he loved - Jaskier was the same. But where Jaskier used cuddles and kisses, Geralt preferred to show his care through acts of service and dedication. When he glanced back at the bed though, he noticed Jaskier’s eyes opening again, clinging to the last tendrils of conscience. 

“Do you need anything?” He asked softly, taking a step closer. 

“Just you.” 

Chapter 9: Cuddling & Snuggling (Geralt x Jaskier)

Summary:

After yet another treacherous journey up The Killer, all Jaskier wants to do is get warm and sleep. Geralt, of course, obliges, and takes a moment to himself to think.

Chapter Text

To Geralt, the main hall of Kaer Morhen seemed stifling, the air thick with heat from the great fire in the hearth and sweat clinging to his skin after having climbed so far to get there. It was almost uncomfortably warm for Geralt who’d become accustomed to the sub-zero temperatures found this far North and at this time of year, but it seemed that Jaskier didn’t share the sentiment. 

It wasn’t the first time he’d brought the bard up to the keep, nor the second or even the third. But still, it seemed that Jaskier never got used to the chill, the climb, or the warm hearth that greeted them at the top of The Killer.

The first time it had occurred, Geralt had been concerned, unable to leave the bard alone in his worry. The second time, the unease was there still, but Geralt at least knew what to expect of his bard when they reached the top. This time, Geralt was finally able to reassure himself that Jaskier was not dying and instead combining the uncomfortable weather with his usual flare for the dramatics. 

Jaskier’s behaviour was predictable by now, which helped to settle Geralt’s exhausted mind. The bard’s incessant complaining was always at its worst when the two of them reached the summit and Kaer Morhen finally came into view. The moment the two of them were inside, however, and the greetings and hugs were complete, the complaints would stop almost in an instant. 

As a child, Geralt had always been taught that a screaming casualty was at least alive - it was the quiet ones you need be most concerned about. So when Jaskier would fall silent, it went without saying that Geralt was the one who panicked. Most of all when Jaskier simply flopped down onto one of the ancient, dusty sofas close to the roaring hearth and covered himself in more blankets than anyone else would be able to stand. 

It was like a wounded creature, Geralt’s instincts supplied him, curling up on their own to die. 

Even a handful of times later, when Geralt was able to predict Jaskier’s post-climb behaviour with near-complete accuracy, that thought always gave him a moment of pause, of panic. 

This time, though, Geralt swallowed around the lump in his throat. Despite the back of his mind telling him one thing, Geralt was relatively sure that Jaskier was not dying and instead the same mixture of exhausted, chilly and feverish that most humans were after a trying climb. Gods, Geralt remembered feeling that way the first time he’d climbed The Killer. He was only a boy then, even before his first set of trials, but he remembered how unpleasant it had been as clear as day. 

Geralt was sure that Jaskier had the strength to move, to go up to the bedroom they shared each winter and to help Geralt unpack. But the witcher thought he could afford Jaskier this - if only for a few hours. 

With a quiet sigh, Geralt hoisted Jaskier’s bags onto his shoulder from where he’d dropped them unceremoniously by the door, and lugged them over to the bottom of the winding, spiral staircase that led up to the second floor. He’d unpack Jaskier’s possessions himself, Geralt decided. He’d known his love long enough by now to know where Jaskier liked them, anyway. 

Content to leave the bard to his own devices for the time being - namely, getting warm - Geralt padded over to the fire and tossed on another log lest it burn itself out before Jaskeir was ready to come up. He’d make another fire in their bedroom regardless, something to keep Jaskier warm up there, too. 

Before he left, Geralt smoothed the blankets somewhat, adjusting them just enough that a sweaty mop of brown hair could be seen beneath the twisted sheets. The kiss he pressed to Jaskier’s head was quick and as easy as breathing with something akin to a purr bubbling up in Geralt’s chest to match. He had his bard back home with him for the season, and if Geralt could remain as such for the rest of time, he gladly would.

Notes:

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