#au: witches

[27dragons]

Countdown to 2025: Dec 7

Witchcraft AU / Witcher - Geraskier / Garland

“You should talk to him.”

Jaskier glanced up, his hands never faltering on the strings of his lute. “Yennefer,” he acknowledged coolly. “I was wondering why you hadn’t accepted my invitation to visit. Oh, wait, I wasn’t, because I never invited you.”

Predictably, she ignored him, pushing through the door into his rented room. She levitated an empty bottle from the floor into her hand, though Jaskier couldn’t decide if it was because she was a show-off, or because bending over to pick it up would make her breasts fall out of her ridiculous bodice. She sniffed at the bottle and made a face. “This is awful.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes. “It doesn’t have to be good to get me drunk,” he pointed out. “And I’m sure this is news to you, but songwitches don’t command the highest of prices.” Simple habit made him reach for whatever power might be radiating from her, but as always, she was shielded so tightly that Jaskier wondered how the trapped energy hadn’t fried her.

“You’re miserable,” Yennefer told him. As if he didn’t know that already.

“Well spotted,” he congratulated her, voice rich with sarcasm. “A little more practice, and you might be able to tell a horse from a cow.”

“He’s miserable, too.”

Jaskier stopped playing, letting the last vibrations of music bleed into the silence. “In all our long years of mutual loathing,” he said, “I've never caught you lying to me.”

She set the empty bottle on his table. “You’re not worth the effort of lying to.” She picked up another bottle, one with some wine still in it, and took a swig. She swallowed with a grimace. “This really is terrible. And Geralt is fucking miserable. It’s disgusting. I can’t work with him like that. I need you to talk to him or he’s going to start fucking up his hexes.”

“How am I meant to live with a man who hates Midwinter?” Jaskier demanded. “It’s my favorite holiday! Everything is beautiful and there are feasts and parties and dancing and gifts and everyone is happy and there’s music everywhere. It’s when my magic is the strongest! And he hates it!”

Yennefer snorted indelicately. “He doesn’t hate Midwinter.”

“He does! He told me--”

“He hates winter,” she continued, riding over him. “Because that’s when his mother sold him to the Wolf coven for a heating charm to keep herself alive until spring. Because that’s when the Wolves throw their pups out into the snow for their initiation ordeal. Because snow crystals interfere with his magic. Because he hates being cold.”

“He told me that members of the Wolf coven can’t feel the cold.”

Yennefer fixed him with a flat look. “He lied. Go. Talk to him.”

Jaskier threw up his hands in defeat. “Fine, you harpy,” he grumbled, slinging his lute over his shoulder. “But when he throws me out again, you’re going to get me drunk. With the good stuff, not this rotgut.”

She smirked. “But the rotgut gets you drunk just as well.”

“Bitch,” Jaskier muttered, and stamped out the door.

His feet carried him out of the city without his really thinking about it. The air was cold and the wind seemed to find every possible route under his clothes to prick icy needles against his skin, and normally he would have sung a cheerful warming tune to block it out, but he couldn’t stop thinking of Geralt.

Geralt shivering as he was carried away from the only home he’d ever known. As he tried and tried and tried as a witchling initiate to summon enough power from a sleeping earth to keep himself warm -- because unlike Jaskier, who drew power from emotion, the Wolf coven relied on the latent power of the natural world -- only to watch each thin stream of energy collide with the snow to be refracted into a million uselessly fragile threads.

Why hadn’t Geralt told Jaskier that he hated the cold? Jaskier could remember the moment perfectly, back before they’d become friends, much less lovers. Jaskier had been trying to pretend he was cold enough to need Geralt’s warmth, and Geralt’s lip had curled into a sneer as he’d said, “Cold doesn’t matter to Wolves.”

Come to think of it, that wasn’t quite the same as saying he couldn’t feel the cold, was it?

Fuck.

He was shivering himself by the time he turned down the narrow path that led to Geralt’s cottage -- the one they had shared until an argument about the first snowfall of the year had prompted Jaskier to pack up his essentials and move into town.

He rounded the last curve and came to a sharp halt, staring in confusion.

Geralt was outside, on a ladder, hanging a garland of greenery to drape from the well-thatched roof. A slow billow of nearly-imperceptible smoke was rising from the chimney, and a tall candle was sitting in the front window, waiting to be lit with the setting of the sun. The tiny stable was already decorated with garlands that had been adorned with fall fruit and brightly-colored bits of cloth tied into bows. As he watched, Roach -- trust Geralt to have a horse for a familiar -- leaned out of the shelter, trying to eat the fruit and making an aggrieved snort when she couldn’t reach it.

Jaskier must have laughed, because Geralt twisted around and saw him. For several long heartbeats, they just looked at one another.

“Jaskier,” Geralt finally said, warily. As if it were possible for Jaskier to hurt him, somehow.

“What-- What are you doing?”

Geralt looked down at the end of the garland still in his hands, and around at the other decorations, and then shrugged. “Midwinter decorations,” he said, as if it were obvious. As if he’d always decorated the cottage for Midwinter and Jaskier was the one being dense.

“Why?”

Geralt grunted and turned to finish hanging the garland, then climbed down off the ladder. He crossed the space between them, cautiously, stopping just out of Jaskier’s reach. “It’s your favorite,” he answered belatedly.

Jaskier looked past Geralt, taking in the decorations that Geralt had put up. For him. Even though he had been living in town. He nodded.

“It looks good,” he said, then closed the last of the distance between them and tucked his arm through Geralt’s. “It’s too cold to stand out here yammering all day,” he said. “Let’s go inside and have a cup of tea.”

Geralt hesitated. Then he hummed and turned toward the cottage. “You should warm up.”

“I’ll get warm faster if you’ll sit with me by the fire,” Jaskier suggested, because Geralt would never admit that he also needed to get warm.

Geralt sighed, pretending to be annoyed. It had taken Jaskier years to understand how to tell the difference between true irritation and Geralt’s pretend annoyance. “How can someone who gets cold so easily like Midwinter so much?”

“Getting warmed up is half the fun,” Jaskier said. “Besides, it’s a long walk out here from town. You wouldn’t want me to get frostbite in my chording hand, would you?”

“Might improve the playing,” Geralt muttered, but he folded his own hand over Jaskier’s fingers, and led the way inside.

[roley-poley-foley]

Don't wanna hijack any posts with my Thoughts but @badhedonist has me thinking about witch Omens so: sex witch Noah whose rituals mainly involve fucking (he asks the other guys for help if a ritual calls for 2+ people), who uses cum as a spell ingredient and keeps mundane sex books on the same shelf as his magic books.

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rating: T

yoongi and taehyung mess up big time when they kidnap jungkook to sacrifice his soul to their local demon—it's too pure, too good, too precious for this world, and he has such pretty eyes... in their attempt to make it up to him, jungkook gets more than he could ever wish for.

[kingofbodyrolls]

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plant boy | jhs

summary: after seven years of doing it, you’d like to think you’re an expert at skipping class. stay hidden, stay quiet, and act inconspicuous. but when you accidentally draw the attention of jung hoseok while you’re camping out on the benches outside the greenhouses, you begin to realize that all it takes is a boy with sunshine at his fingertips and a particular affinity for herbology to change things.

{hogwarts!au, opposites to lovers!au}

pairing: hoseok x female reader word count: 11k genre: fluff, light angst warnings: playing hooky - stay in school kidz! a/n: happy lunar new year, everyone!!!! here’s my gift to you as a blessing for the new year. hope y’all lucky as hell. aside from that, a couple notes:

1. i know it’s literally been 84 years since i last posted a part for my sorted series. my bad! anyway, here is the much awaited plant boy, and the rest of the parts should be following shortly.

2. this takes place before the events of tutor! that’s why namjoon’s still kind of a dick in this one. sorry for any confusion!!

3. dedicated to this fic’s numero uno fan, 陈 anon!

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⤷ 1.2k follower event request: Familiar!Seokjin x Witch!Reader + “I should’ve told you back then, but I didn’t want you to leave.” + Fluff/Angst ⤷ @softescapism​ said: seokjin x reader or OT7 x reader + prompt C8 + witch/familiar, fluff, sfw (hi! could you write a drabble/scenario/short fic for the follower event based on this, please? 💓) ⤷ word count: 2.1k ⤷ a/n: this is a little angsty in the beginning, but the ending is all fluff! i hope you like it!!

“There you are!” You grumble, snatching up a vial from the back of your cabinet. The little thing is covered with dust, the label yellowed with age and barely clinging on to the glass. But even then, there’s no mistaking the content. The shimmering pink powder inside makes you stomach flip uneasily, but you know it has to be done. You uncap the bottle before you can talk yourself out of it, carefully sprinkling the powder counter-clockwise into the boiling concoction in your pot. You can’t help but frown as it slowly turns from clear to bright pink, the stark colour mocking you as you throw in a pair of four leaf clovers with a little more force than necessary. The kitchen is quiet aside from the bubbling brew and the rhythmic tapping of your impatient fingers against the counter, your eyes resting nervously on the dark garden outside your window. You promised Seokjin years ago that you would never make this particular potion again, but you’ve run out of options.

You love being a potions witch, but truth be told, it’s probably the worst financial decision you could have made. All witches have to choose their niche the day they turn eighteen, and you, driven by the long list of potions witches in your ancestry, wanted to follow in their footsteps. What you didn’t account for however, is just how drastically the times have changed. Larger covens have started selling their potions online, making them in big batches to cut down on the cost and shipping them all across the country. There’s no longer a need for a town to have their own potions witch, not when you can get them delivered to your doorstep for a cheaper price. The mass produced potions are definitely not as potent as a singularly brewed ones, but it seems people care more about price than efficiency these days. Well, at least most people don’t care. And considering business has been dwindling so alarmingly fast over the last four months that you’re barely scraping by, there’s not a chance that you can lower your prices anymore than you already have.

You shake your head, trying your best to ignore the tendrils of guilt wrapping around your chest. As long as your familiar doesn’t find out about this order, there will be nothing for him to worry about. That’s why you’re hunkered over the stove in the first place; desperately hoping that it will be done in time before he comes home. Tonight is Seokjin’s monthly familiar night with Hoseok and Namjoon, and the only window of alone time you have to make something like this. You murmur a quick incantation under your breath as you give the potion one last stir, watching as the pink brew slowly darkens to red. The sickly sweet smell that whiffs up from the cauldron almost makes you gag, but at least it tells you that the potion is almost complete.

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