#biker!geralt au

[slumberingcorpse]

Just discovered the world of Witcher Modern AUs. I’ll never be the same. P.S. there needs more Biker Geralt please.

[steviebbboi]

Stevie BB 200 Followers Celebration Writing Challenge!

Howdy lads~ exciting news to share:

I just reached a 200 follower count on Tumblr 🎉🎉🎉

I kinda can't believe it? Writing is indeed good for my soul. Interacting with y'all on here has helped me with my mental and emotional wellness due to just finding such great community on here. Thank you for giving me the space to write and for following along/supporting in my writing journey 💖

With that spiel spoken, I wanted to host a writing challenge in celebration of this milestone! *squealing because i'm so excited to host*

Stevie BB 200 Followers Celebration Writing Challenge Masterlist

*you'll find all writing submissions and writing requests (answered) at the link above*

You could participate by sending in either:

✨ writing request via my Asks (💙)

and/or

✨ writing submissions (💥).

General Rules:

the challenge will start October 1st until the end of November (flexible on late entries for submissions only💥; let's say till mid-December or so).

I'll read/write for Chris Evans characters, Henry Cavill Characters, and Charlie Hunnam characters [and Bucky Barnes specifically lol] (these are my preferences but if there are other characters that you'd like to bring in, just ask me)!

for writing requests 💙, i will only be accepting requests (2 max/person; pls do not send more than 2 asks!) until the end of November.

for writing submissions 💥, go wild! submit as many as you like!

you can do both (send in a writing request 💙 AND send in a writing submission(s)💥) if you want to; rules still apply for the requests though.

use at least one prompt within your request 💙/submissions💥 from the lists below (but def. go crazy if you wanna use more than one! you don't have to claim any prompts).

works can be inclusive! poc, gender neutral, neurodivergencies, mid size/plus size/curvy readers are encouraged!

No word limits but please use a 'read more' after 200 words

Works can be part of an existing series but must be able to stand on their own

tag me @steviebbboi and use the tags #bbboi200celebration and #steviebbboiwritingchallenge in your entry so i can read/reblog your work! (If I somehow lose sight of your submission, please remind me and I'll take a look at it right away ☺️)

Most important one: Have fun!

How To Play:

✨ You must be 18+ to participate in this challenge!

✨ Choose one (or multiple 😏) BB's:

Chris Evans Characters

Steve Rogers/Captain America

Ransom Drysdale

Ari Levinson

Frank Adler

Curtis Everett

Andy Barber

Hayden/Harvard Hottie

Nick Gant

Jake Jensen

Johnny Storm

Lloyd Hansen

Henry Cavill Characters

Clark Kent

Napoleon Solo

Geralt of Rivia

August Walker

Charlie Hunnam Characters

Jax Teller

Raymond Smith *extra brownie pts if you write about him omg*

King Arthur

Sebastian Stan

Bucky Barnes [he's all by himself im so sorry lmfao 🥹]

✨ Choose one (or more) of the following prompts:

*if you don't want to write smut, you don't have to choose anything from the kinks prompt! feel free to only use the following two prompts :)

soft dom!BB

clothes/naked ratio

size kink

slow and deep 👀

breeding kink (non-pregnancy version)

somnophilia

free use

cockwarming

belly bulge

Squirting

consensual non-con

consensual dub-con

cumeating

creampie

anal/or dp

possessive/or protective manhandling!BB

oral sex

orgasm delay

dumbification

daddy/princess kink

overstimulation

sex pollen

prone bone

cockdrunk

threesome (BB/Reader/BB)

ass/pussy spanking

mild degradation

body worshipping

quickie/don't get caught (public sex, threats of exhibitionism, etc.) 😏

Grouchybb! who is only soft with you

Married and loyal!spouse

A/B/O

lumberjack!bb who is a teddy bear on the inside tho

mob AU

biker AU

soulmate AU

mutual pining/idiots in love

childhood besties to lovers

reformed playboy

professor AU

supernatural/mythical (gods, sirens, werewolves, witches, vampires, ghosts, oh my!)

frenemies to lovers

fwb to lovers

locked in AU/forced proximity

medieval AU

fake dating/relationship

sharing one bed

polar opposites attract

break up and make up

spy AU

meet cute

cowboy AU

gentle recluse!BB

brothers best friend!BB

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Yes, take it, slut"

"It's not that big of a deal."

"God, why do you always do this"

"You're impossible."

"Then I guess we gotta be quiet, huh?"

"We're trapped."

"Shh, you wouldn't want anyone to hear, or do you?"

"You're taking me so well, baby"

"Good girl" *for fem readers; adjust accordingly!*

"Tsk, uh-uh, c'mere, honey"

"You always feel so good around me, baby"

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Here, let me help you."

"Yeah, are you a cockhungry slut, now?"

"I hardly think that that's necessary."

"Don't be a brat, baby."

"Aw, does it feel good right there?"

"I'm sorry!"

"What do you want from me?!"

"I didn't mean to!"

"What do you think you're doing here?"

"Nope. Again."

"Don't worry, I got you."

"Just stay still, there you go."

"Just one more, I promise."

"C'mon, don't you wanna be good?"

"Stay over there!"

"You better hurry up, baby."

"Thaaaat's it, you're doing so well, honey."

"Uhm, I'm not sure that's going to work."

"Please, I'll beg, please!"

"Be honest."

"Be careful there, darlin'."

"Are you okay?"

"Are you sure you wanna go there?"

Scenarios? Any! Go. Wild.

✨ I love reading/writing angst w/HEA, soft dark (nothing too dark though), fluff and SMUT (as you can see w/the many many kinks).

no incest (stepcest is ok if tasteful lol), no infidelity, no watersports, no murder, no gore. if you're unsure if a trope is appropriate, ask me!

if im ever uncomfy with writing something, i will lyk and we can talk more about it to see if we could work with it!

feel free to ask any questions!

i think i got everything!

Have the best time, laddies~ thanks for celebrating with me!

All are welcome to join in the fun! ❣️

Tagging a few mutuals who may be interested but no pressure bbs:

@bigtreefest @mercurial-chuckles @stargazingfangirl18 @yenzys-lucky-charm

@sweater-daddiesdumbdork @buckets-and-trees @hotdamnhunnam @laurfilijames

@autumnrose40 @eloquentlytired @misscherry-26 @stellar-solar-flare

@darsynia @navybrat817

[sillyrabbit81]

The Fallen Wolves Brotherhood - Part Sixteen

Series Summary: Lori "Babycakes" Tate swore she would never date a biker but when her life is in danger, she is put under the protection of a small club known as The Fallen Wolves Brotherhood. She suddenly finds herself attracted to not one, but five bikers.

A reverse harem, biker AU.

Part Sixteen Summary: Marshall opens up about his past.

Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC, Walter Marshall x OFC, Mike x OFC, Geralt x OFC, August Walker x OFC

Word Count: Approx. 3.1k

Warnings:

Series Warnings: Reverse harem, age gap (OFC 23, ages range from 23 to mid 40s), oral sex (male and female receiving), unprotected p in v sex, anal sex, group sex, masturbation, praise kink, mentions of body fluids, drug use, recreational drinking, sex work, criminal activities, mention of death, violence, use of weapons, mentions of war, mentions of abuse, angst, fluff, probably a lot more that I will add as they come up.

Part Sixteen Warnings: slight angst, discussion of murder and violence against women, smut, p in v sex, oral sex (f receiving), mentions of body fluids, I think thats it

Authors Note: Thanks as always to my lovely BBFs (Best Beta's forever) @henryobsessed and @nashibirne .

So... Been a while... I am really nervous about posting because it has been so long! But I put my big girl pants on and I'm just going to do it. This chapter had to be split in half, which was a small reason for why this took so long to put out, the other part is that I think some of it is a bit dry... Exposition is hard!!!! The next part isn't quite finished but this point was a natural stopping point so I figure, post this and then maybe I won't be so in my head about the next bit.

Divider made by me. Edited by me, there will be errors.

Masterlist

Parts Masterlist

Part Fifteen Part Seventeen

Lori

I woke up with a start.

My heart was beating as fast as a mouse’s and I was sucking in huge gulps of air that failed to fill the hollow in my chest. I was shaking, every muscle and sinew quivering with a chilling thrum, yet I was frozen. I willed myself to move but my glaciated neurons refused to fire, iced over, hardened, ready to snap.

From behind me, a heavy arm moved on my waist and a hand pressed against my belly as soft whiskers and gentle lips caressed and the back of my neck. Relief warmed my blood in a balmy rush, my body thawing in a heady and welcomed surge.

Marshall. It was only Marshall.

“Alright?” he asked, his voice low and rough from sleep.

I hummed, not quite ready to speak. I looked at the clock on the nightstand. Small and generic, its garish neon green digital numerals reminded me that my room wasn’t actually my room and my briefly mollified anxiety inched its way back into my tightening chest.

I’d barely slept, little more than dozed. I wondered if I should get up and shower, but I didn’t want to disturb Marshall. So I laid there and listened to his breathing return to its regular cadence while I tried to recall and hold onto my dream. I might as well have tried to catch a cloud, the memories were wispy vapours, too vague and insubstantial to retain, leaving behind echoing stains of dread and emptiness. 

It didn’t take a genius to figure out what I had dreamed of. The strange and rapid life changes over the past couple of weeks made it possible for me to push aside the grief from the loss of my parents and focus on other things like my anger at Nate, the shocking revelations about Jake, and the developing situation with the Brothers. I may have made a conscious decision not to dwell and process my emotions, but my subconscious was obviously not on board.

I focussed on the rhythm of Marshall’s breathing, the soft reverberation in his throat on each inhale and the sturdy snugness of his arms while I pushed down the lingering feelings, stuffing them like clothes into a laundry basket, deep into the recesses of my mind. Even as I crammed them away, I knew I’d have to deal with my emotions at some point. I told myself I would, just not today, or tomorrow. Maybe in a month or two. Or three. When I was home again, or alone, or when things were back to normal.

Eventually, the residual fear from my lost dream ebbed and slowly faded while a myriad of new ones took its place. 

Had last night been another mistake on the long list of mistakes I had made. Was Marshall another Jake? Was Sy for that matter?

Sy.

Now that Marshall and I had crossed the Rubicon, would Sy still feel the same way about me when he returned and faced the reality of what he had agreed to? Or, had the existence of the pact forced him to adhere to it out of a sense of bravado and loyalty to the Brotherhood? Had I just turned myself into another groupie, a woman destined for a lifetime of disrespect, deception and disillusion, stupidly thinking that an outlaw, an outsider, a biker, could change for them?

I waited for the gut feeling that I had fucked up by sleeping with Marshall to arrive, but it never came. Of course there were no guarantees in any relationship, but everything that had happened with Marshall had felt sincere and genuine. 

“I can hear you thinking,” Marshall grumbled. His breath was warm against my ear and his gentle accent made me shiver as a heated rush rippled across my skin, soothing and comforting me.

“I thought you were asleep,” I said.

He grunted and shifted his body until he laid on his back. I rolled over, following him and he tucked me under his arm. He glanced with a half smile that I barely picked up in the darkness of the room. I returned it and his grin grew slightly bigger before he laid his head back into the pillows.

“My sleep cycle has been off for years. Never recovered from shift work with the PD.”

I shimmied closer to him, pressing my breasts against his side, resting my thigh across his hips and dipped my fingers into the thick, coarse curls that spread across his chest from shoulder to shoulder. In response, I felt him stroke my arm, the tips of his fingers tracing an invisible path.

“Marshall?”

“Lori,” he replied, one side of his mouth lifting in a smirk.

“How did you end up in the Brotherhood?”

His smile vanished instantly and after a couple of passes over my arm, his hand stopped his caress, pausing mid stroke. His eyes sought out mine and I made it easier for him, by laying my chin on his chest, ignoring the way his wispy hairs tickled my jaw.

“There were a series of murders. Women, young women, some still teens. To call them murders doesn’t go far enough, each one was assaulted, tortured…” Marshall trailed off but his fingers began to stroke me again, this time sweeping over my back.

“You don’t have to tell me,” I said.

Marshall grunted and took a deep breath. “It was a long investigation that led nowhere. We had physical evidence, DNA, but no matches in the system and no motives. There were no useful eyewitnesses, no connections between the victims, they were of different racial backgrounds, economic status, from all over the city. We kept hitting dead ends, every lead we had didn’t pan out. Meanwhile, more girls were showing up dead, nearly a dozen and the media were breathing down our necks.”

He scoffed, his lip curled in disgust.

“They can be viscous,” I said, remembering the media circus that followed my parents' death.

Lifting his head, Marshall kissed my forehead before continuing.

“Eventually a name popped up that looked promising, he had been a contact in four of the victim’s phones. No other number had shown up twice, let alone four times. So we started an investigation into him. Found out he was a CEO of a financial institution or an investment bank, I don’t remember which. He was young, one of those prodigious financial wizards that seemed to have the Midas touch. He was famous in the financial world, puff pieces in newspapers, magazines, you know the type?”

I nodded and he continued.

“We’d barely gotten further than collecting basic background on this guy when the case was taken out of our hands by the Feds. I was furious, obviously, their jurisdiction over the case was on a flimsy basis at best. There was nothing I could do about it but wait for news of the investigation. However, months went by and… nothing. No news, no arrests, no more media reports, nothing.”

“He wasn’t the guy?”

Marshall shrugged. “I thought I must have been wrong. After a year, a homeless guy was arrested and charged.”

“So you had the wrong guy, after all?”

Marshall chuffed and shook his head.

“I knew in my gut the man they arrested was a patsy. I looked into it. I talked to some of his friends from the streets and as far as I could tell he wasn’t even in town when the first three victims had been murdered. His friends said he came to the city to attend the funeral of his murdered daughter.”

“No,” I gasped, my mouth covering my hand in shock.

“Yes,” Marshall said, “He was the father of the first victim we found. We had tried to contact him in the early days of the investigation, but he couldn’t be located. By the time he had discovered what happened to his daughter, there had been other victims and it was no longer a priority to find him and rule him out as a suspect.”

I thought about Nate and my father. I had never been privy to the dealings of the club, but you picked things up. The club had a surprisingly low number of members with criminal records and although I had never been explicitly told, I knew it was because the “right” people had been paid off for years. I figured the real killer must have been doing something similar, but on a massive scale.

“So what did you do?” I asked. 

“I took my theories up the chain and requested permission to do my own investigation. I was told in no uncertain terms that if I did that, it would cost me my badge.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Shit.”

“I couldn’t let it go though. I knew I couldn’t investigate alone and I suspected that I might be under surveillance. I couldn’t ask anyone else in the department to risk their job, so I called a guy I trusted. He used to be a bounty hunter but by then was working as a private security contractor.”

“Geralt?” I guessed.

“Geralt,” Marshall repeated. “He used his connections and reported back that there had been rumours floating about this guy for years, from his college days to his early Wall Street days to this case. Reports of domestic violence from women he’d had relationships with and assaults on sex workers that always seemed to be retracted or ignored. Somehow, this fucking guy kept getting away with fucking murder because of his connections.”

He closed his eyes and the muscles of his jaw pulsed beneath his thickly bearded skin. Swallowing hard, he opened his eyes and his voice was husky as he continued.

“When I realised what they had done to that man, that girl’s father… I wasn’t particularly idealistic and I wasn’t naive, but I had never thought that this level of corruption could happen. The Feds, the media, the PD; how many people must be involved, how many people were paid off or blackmailed? Everything I knew, everything I….”

He shrugged and was quiet. I waited, sure he had more to say. But he stayed silent, jaw twitching again and his eyes seemed to glaze over as his thoughts seemed to drift away.

I placed my hand on his cheek, my thumb sweeping along the bone and tilted my head to kiss his chest softly. Marshall’s hand went to my hair stroking my hair off my face.

“I quit. I couldn’t do that kind of work again, not knowing what I knew. I went back to Geralt, thinking with my SWAT background, maybe I’d try private security. Instead, Geralt introduced me to Sy and Walker.”

“What happened to the CEO?”

Marshall’s grin was a little disconcerting as he replied, “He got his in the end. An international financial scandal ruined him. The bank he headed was laundering money for the cartels and he was directly implicated in running the scam. The CIA got him for that one, apparently his reach didn’t go that far.”

“What happened to the father?” I asked.

“Suicide in prison while awaiting trial. It was a fucking joke.”

“I’m sorry, Walter,” I said softly.

His eyes found mine. Blue, deep and clear, they held me and I couldn’t look away. He sighed and shifted his hips. The movement made his thigh brush high between my legs and I became very conscious of the fact that both of us were naked.

The atmosphere changed, the air crackled with an electric anticipation and a heady jolt of lust worked its way down my spine to my core. I wasn’t alone, Marshall breathing became heavy, his nostrils flaring as he drew in each breath and his chest swelled.

His fingertips began to skim over my back again, and my skin broke out in goosebumps as I shivered with pleasure. His burly arms drew me to his chest, the coarse hair tickled my nipples as he guided me onto my back. Blanketing me with his comfortingly heavy body, his weight was concentrated at our hips and effectively pinned me to the mattress. My legs split beneath him, opening myself up in a shameless invitation. He took the hint, and he rolled his hips against me as he kissed me. 

It was like he was a different man; his feral, almost brutal urgency gave way to languid deliberateness. His lips moved down the column of my neck, hands exploring, clasping my ribs as if he wanted to caress not just the flesh, but the bones beneath. Moving with barely restrained greed, he slipped my nipple into his mouth and his teeth captured it while his velvety tongue flicked. His lips were satin, his beard was rugged silk, equally coarse and soft as he kissed and rubbed his cheeks against the sensitive skin between my breasts.

Opening his bearded jaw wide, he took more of me into his mouth than just my pink pebbled nipple. I watched bleary eyed as creamy skin disappeared into his warm mouth and his tongue lashed. My fingers slid into his thick curls, holding him close, begging for more.

I moved a hand down his shoulder and back feeling his dense muscles ripple under my touch. I went lower, down his side and abdomen, a rush of heat surged through me as my fingers found the trail of hair below his navel. I wanted to follow its path, wanted to feel him throbbing just like I was.

Thwarting my plans, Marshall laid warm, wet, kisses down my tummy, and became out of reach. I let out a petulant moan and he grinned, rubbing his beard against a sensitive spot near my hip, making me giggle and squirm out of his grasp. He caught my hip and pushed me down to the bed again in a flash back to his earlier impatience.

“Shh,” he soothed with a wolfish grin.

His hand swept down my thigh, curling under my knee and gently guiding my legs further apart. His kisses started at my knee and moved down the inside of my thigh, heat from his mouth made me shiver and I fell back onto the bed. He got closer to my soaked, throbbing core and I felt his tongue at the crease of my thigh, lapping at the combined wetness there from both my arousal and his release.

I gasped and leaned up on my elbows to watch and his feverish blue eyes were looking up at me from between my legs. My body looked as aroused as I felt, nipples tight and hard, tummy and thighs trembling, my pussy was swollen and glistening with the remains of our previous, furious love making.

Fingers glided over me, thumbs pulling apart my folds, his breath simultaneously warm and cooling against my hot throbbing sensitive skin. A finger teased my weeping core, swirling at my entrance. I was on fire, desperately clenching at nothing, and I could feel evidence of his orgasm leaked from within me.

“Fuck,” he murmured under his breath.

“Marshall,” I said breathlessly, reaching for his shoulders, trying to pull him up to me, “stop teasing me. Just fuck me.”

“I’ll fuck you,” he said, voice husky, almost gone. Then he mumbled something I couldn’t catch against my pussy.

The feel of his tongue prodding my entrance, no doubt tasting himself as he ate me out was so wickedly filthy to me that I was completely transfixed by the lurid eroticism, I’d never experienced anything like it. I could barely hold myself up, but the sight of him practically pussy drunk and groaning was too good not to look at. He growled, his arms wrapped around my thighs and he pushed his face into me, soft prickles of his beard against me made me shake even more and despite wanting to keep watching, I fell back to the mattress.

Suede-like brushes against my clit had me shaking, the tension in my muscles quivering like violin strings. Jesus christ he was amazing, then he sucked softly on my clit, and I was gone, crying out as my hands tangled in his hair, tightening into fists and held him against me. He didn’t stop as I came, his hands moved to my hips, his long fingers splayed across my belly and waist as if he wanted to feel my body move as I buckled.

My hands unclenched, and I shuddered with aftershocks as Marshall stayed where he was, softly licking at my core. I closed my eyes, bathing in the post orgasm euphoria, running my fingers through his hair. He didn’t stop kissing me as he moved up my body and rested a fraction of his weight against me. His hand was warm as he cupped my cheek and covered my mouth with his. I could taste us on his lips and tongue, his beard was soaked too. I was so turned on that after the flavour faded from his mouth, I swept my tongue over his chin.

“Fuck,” he groaned, “You taste good, don’t you?”

I hesitated, self-consciousness creeping in and my cheeks burned with embarrassment. Marshall stroked my cheek with his thumb and I opened my eyes and realised that he wasn’t trying to shame me.

“You taste good too,” I said.

He smiled, his lips parting just enough to see his teeth, before he grew a little serious. His hand curled around the back of knee, lifting and opening me again, and he adjusted his body in a way that made me gasp. Poised, and ready, his silky hardness waited, his brows raising just enough to ask the unspoken question.

“Yes,” I murmured.

His mouth was on mine as he slid inside me, our kiss muffling both our moans. We stayed like that, joined and locked together, hungrily swallowing the others whispered words and whimpers. Fingers sought mine, and lacing them together he squeezed, gripping me and releasing me in time with his steady rocking movements.

He knew what he was doing, making sure I could feel every inch of his thick and rigid length, making sure he found that spot that made my breath hitch every time. His breath was coming in harder and heavier, each exhale punctuated by a muted grunt. I couldn’t focus, I had to close my eyes. Fuck, he really knew what he was doing.

“Marshall,” I gasped. I don’t know why I spoke. I was riding close to the edge, any second now and I would fall.

“Yes,” he growled, “Fuck, yes.”

I fell.

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

✨If you get this, someone thinks you are awesome!✨

✨Send this anon to 10 blogs that make you happy when you see them on your dash ✨

Hi anon, anon, anon, anon, anon, and anon. I hope you'll forgive me that I'm just gonna answer this once - but with a li'l twist!

I love that people took time out of their lives to tell me they think I'm awesome; I think they're all awesome, too! Now instead of answering this six times and then sending this on to 10 people anonymously... I'm gonna call out the people I was gonna send this to publicly! With a little bonus...

#1

It has to be @geralts-yenn! I couldn't call myself her rodent bestie if I didn't have this number 1 spot reserved for her. Now, first this bitch wonderful person writes me Ray of Sunshine, a modern-day Melot AU wet dream filled with bikers and beaches and sex, but she also hit us with anahita - a Napoleon smutfic so hot you'll be sweating like a whore in church before you're even through the first paragraph. Go read that. You're welcome.

#2

Next, we've got my co-Dutchie @keanureevesisbae, who is busy with her own projects instead of fanfics nowadays. Still: Go read endeavors and thank me later. Or, if you're into a little RPF and want to live life vicariously through sugarbaby Becky there's also sugar sugar, which is very nice as well... (I just want a man to come take me shopping, okay?)

#3

@deandoesthingstome is an amazing writer, I am often jealous of her way with words, and she is one of the kindest people I know on here. Go read Holiday Angel. It has everything. A luxurious mansion to mentally vacay in for a bit, gentle!Dom!August, forbidden fruit romance. It's a long one, but so, so worth it... Another good one? Why, of course! Hall Pass. Just read it. She also deserves a shoutout to being one of the most supportive readers in this entire fandom

#4

They haven't been on here long, but my tumblrverse would already be so incomplete without @ellethespaceunicorn! Not only did they write Treat Me Like A Slut, which has August just the way we like him; dominant and deep inside you, they also found it necessary to write Make That Kitty Purr. And I agree. It was necessary. Nevermind that my babyboy Mikey gets hurt, I'll forgive Elle for that because this shit was so fucking good.

#5

Next up we've got @peyton-warren, who only recently returned from a little Tumblr hiatus, and I thus haven't spoken that much just yet, but the drabble Arresting and Arrested should be enough to get you to take a look at the rest of her masterlist.

#6

Go check out @mayloma, creator of Behind The Curtain, which has a lovely August and some anal action - which means I'm always game! She's also very sweet. I know I haven't read much of her stuff, but if I ever get my act together and get reading again, Yenn assured me there's some Sy to check out here.

#7

It's no secret I don't particularly like my Sy's in the military, which makes it all the more impressive that @sillyrabbit81 wrote one that I did fall head over heels in love with! He's in Even if you don't mean it, and if you haven't read that, go do it now. And I do mean that. Then, perhaps my all-time favorite fic so far has to be The Fallen Wolves Brotherhood. Maybe I should elaborate on that, probably, but instead I'm just gonna say: Bikers. Proceed with caution, because when that next chapter hits, you're gonna have to pause Criminal Minds. I'm also going to leave the link to Prying here, because it's so fucking dirty it melts my brain a little every time I re-read it.

#8

Now, we all love seeing @angryschnauzer on our dashes, keeping things horny on main and yeeting the occasional fic into the dark void that is this hellsite. For instance Cuddles and Snuggles, an unholy combination of Mike and Charles - something that had never even crossed my mind - and a guest appearance from sugardaddy August. Mad perfection. Now my next rec for her may be a little odd, because she makes it very clear that it's a crack fic; Full Mast. I'm a sucker for everything pirate - and so is reader... just check out Part 2...

#9

@poledancingdinos amazed me with You've got me hooked, which has stripping and sex work and Sy, who is great. I think I read this entire (or almost entire?) series in a single night while I was in bed. Couldn't stop... She's also responsible for Soundtrack of Debauchery, which I still haven't finished, because my ADHD has been a bitch, but I started it, and it was very good!!!

#10

And last but not least: @littlefreya. I'm fairly sure there are still things on her massive masterlist I haven't read, and a lot of which I read in my pre- and early fandom tumblr days, and haven't reblogged (for which I apologize, by the way). The sheer vastness of her masterlist makes it a bit tricky to pick, but let's go for some delightful dark fics; The Devil's Tongue and Destroyer of Angels

SO: The challenge. If you're on this list (or if you're not on this list, this is an open invitation to everyone!) rec some fics! Write an essay, like this one, or don't. Toss a few names and some titles in a list and be done with it, that's fine. Recommend one, or ten, or twenty authors. Hell; Recommend yourself! Recommend your favorite artist, link some art! Spread the love!

[nullio]

So abt that outfit sneak peek 👀

I do have a criticism, and it's the same that i had with his outfit from the Conclave, it looks really modern - like lowkey what I pictured when I read modern AU's

But I'm also a slut for leather and metal studs, (and Geralt) and I find it charming that Geralt would go out of his way to wear something so stylish :>

I've loved all his outfits! I'm very partial to wearing all black myself so ofc, hes going through his depressed sexy biker era and I'm so here for it

Anyway, shout out to Liam for being an actual king and filling those shoes- I've gotten massively endeared since that table read and I wish him the absolute best <3 kisses to Season 4

[rederiswrites]

Since you’re currently accepting asks: Inspired by your Viking “OC” post (and, okay, maybe a little by my love of Samhal), are there any fandoms that you would just love to write an OC for if you ever had the time/inspiration. Or do you typically prefer to write canon characters?

(I do realise that’s two questions, but the second one’s more of an addendum.)

I love you for loving Samhal, among other things. You don't have any idea how many chapters of Little Fox were written because of your wonderful comments.

Let's see. Not an OC but I am CONSTANTLY wanting to write modern Geralt. Like, Ciri takes Geralt to modern discos but he's walking through it as 100% a scrungly biker bar guy. He listens to blues rock but when he walks by all the kids listening to house, they wanna touch him.

I DO imagine Samhal in modern AU's, too. God, I'm going way back to remember it, but I still remember. He's a sugar baby and high-end escort in a modern AU (which is essentially what he was at the beginning anyway, to be clear). His apartment is really short on furniture, but everything there is is soft. Thrift store couch, soft velvety blanket and throw pillows. The most expensive stereo he can afford, and a big wall mirror, and big windows. He dances for the world, even though no one is looking, and he doesn't trust anyone. He hangs with people getting high, but refuses to ever lose control of himself. He dreams of making it as a dancer, and is good enough too, but there's so much luck involved in that and no one hires elves without something to grease the wheels.

and last but not least, technically I always am open for asks but suspect that people are intimidated by me, and actually I DO prefer to write canon, but Geralt and Samhal feel so personal to me that I'd know them anywhere.

[caffinedragon]

My main Tav:

Name: Razzikel

Lythari Drow, Beast Tamer Ranger

Romance: Halsin(Druid)×Astarion(Rogue)

RazzikelxHalsin: Razzikel was born and grew up int the UNderdark as a Ranger slave for his mother whom had secretly converted to Seladrune/Elistree after obtaning the Lythari gift for him to prevent a gentic disease from killing him. Living a life where true safety and freedom was only obtained through violence and control if he continued to live amongst his kind, he longed to go up to the surface and never return. But due to his love for his mother, he remined in order to try and protect her back from the claws of the other houses. Until his motther forced him to fail so that he could escape in a way no one would be able to find him.

Halsin and Razzikel met after the trauma of the escape forced him into his Lythari Dire Wolf form for 15 years and Halsin found him stuck in a bear trap and took him back to his grove to recover. he surprised him by the change but after that helped him to not only be on two legs again, but to embrace the freedom he now had due to his mother's sacrifice.

Halsin was the one who taught him the beast tamer skills he has so that he wouldn't be as lonely out in the wilds and helped him orient himself with the surface's foriegn flora and fauna.

In return, Razzikel taught him how to better track out of wildshape and unintentionally, how yo better take care of himself and to stand up for himself better even if it is just by walking away.

The two of them end up having the same sort of platonic relationship that Geralt and Dandilion have where now matter how long there apart they always meet up again like it has only been a few days instead of several years.

Until the Shadow Curse cuts them off.

Once they reunite in game however, the Thirimin kicks in and they go from Geralt and Dandilion to Stede Bonnet and Edward Thatch from Our Flag Means Death. Nature's newest power couple. Wolf Dad and Bear Dad of the motly group fighting to stop The Absolute.

Modern Au Equivilent: Razzikel is that wandering biker dude that may or may not be an ex-con dressed in black that like breaks down along the side of the road and Halsin is the local farmer/rancher/vet etc that finds him and takes him home to help him and he just never leaves.

RazzikelxAstarion: Very much the sassy chaos gremlin and the stoic gentle giant that often humbles them. Astarion invokes the protective instincts in Razzikel but also his more viscious drow side that finds his antics funny. He knew AStarion was manipulating him from the start but also knew that to get behind his mask it was easier to play along until he could essentially Uno reverse card him. Especially since he had grown up in a similar situation even if it wasnt as horrific as Astarion's was. He had just been on the other side for about 150 years by then. Ex-slave - soon to be ex-slave if he had anything to say about it.

Razzikel often used his stoic nature to allow him to talk through his feelings without interuption or judgement and in return Astarion helped him better manage traversing the cityscapes he often had trouble in due to him primarily sticking to the wilds most of the time.

RazzikelxHalsinxAstarion: Their dynamic is the two old trauma survivors who are happily married take in the younger freshly traumatized but finally escaped survivor and show him the way towards healing via patience, understanding and all the affectuin he can stand.

Modern AU equivelant: Stoic Metel head biker built like a slim oak tree hapilly married to his paper bear husband meet thier new neighbor, a heavily traumatised feral cat twink freshly who finally escaoed a horrifically abusive relationship with only a backpack full of clothes, and some packages of ramen and a ywelve pack of cheap soda and are like...

Halsin: "We gonna leave him like that?"

Razzikel: "Fuck. No."

And then proceed to feed him and take care of him causing the new neighbor to be like...

Astarion: "You gave me food and treated me with kindness so I'm your problem now."

And so their like:

Halsin: "That's fine, you like honey buns?"

Razzikel after finding out about his abusive ex who is still breathing: "You want me to kill that guy for you?"

So this is out of curiosity.

Reblog and share a bit about the dynamic between your tav and their love interest(s) in terms of their class and backgrounds. Maybe their shared class or background they bond over? Maybe they have different viewpoints that they learn about each other? Maybe one teaches the other a bit from their class (like Gale teaching Tav how to summon light, or Lae'zel giving Tav combat techniques)

[justhereforeskel]

For Syndramise on Twitter 💜🐺

My gift for the @witcherficwriters Witcher Winter Gift Exchange!

[process-pending]

Jaskier, who possessed a seemingly endless breadth of words, doesn’t have one to describe this feeling. Or rather, he has too many and each one will hurt Geralt.

Take Me Back (Chapter 38)

[fandom-trash-and-hyperfixations]

Was rather obsessed with these:

The songbird and the cats: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31426205

Post mountain Jaskier tries to help the cat school and end up with a family. Very Witcher sexual Jask.

If I don't make it back:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/35641672

Jaskier is dead but Geralt can still see him. Deals with injury acceptance and death obv.

The biker and the songbird:

https://archiveofourown.org/series/1801612

Modern au, the witchers are a biker group that help people get out of abusive situations, Jaskier is one such rescue and he falls for the White Wolf. Many trigger warnings here so please read the tags.

Think back to days:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/35265010

Ves finds Jaskier near the foot of the blue mountain and brings him home for the winter. Lovely friendship between them.

Since it’s a bank holiday here in the U.K. and I have the whole day to just read, feel free to send me your favourite Ineffable Husbands, Dreamling, Qcard (or just Q in general), or Geraskier fics please!

Can be multi chapter or one shot, I don’t mind, but no A/B/O or Mpreg please. No offence to anyone who likes them, but they’re just nopes for me personally lol

[sillyrabbit81]

The Fallen Wolves Brotherhood - Part Seventeen

Series Summary: Lori "Babycakes" Tate swore she would never date a biker but when her life is in danger, she is put under the protection of a small club known as The Fallen Wolves Brotherhood. She suddenly finds herself attracted to not one, but five bikers.

A reverse harem, biker AU.

Part Seventeen Summary: Lori finds out more about Jake. Walker finds out about the pact.

Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC, Walter Marshall x OFC, Mike x OFC, Geralt x OFC, August Walker x OFC

Word Count: Approx. 3.4k

Warnings:

Series Warnings: Reverse harem, age gap (OFC 23, ages range from 23 to mid 40s), oral sex (male and female receiving), unprotected p in v sex, anal sex, group sex, masturbation, praise kink, mentions of body fluids, drug use, recreational drinking, sex work, criminal activities, mention of death, violence, use of weapons, mentions of war, mentions of abuse, angst, fluff, probably a lot more that I will add as they come up.

Part Seventeen Warnings: slight angst, violence, mentions of blood, implied smut

Authors Note: Thanks as always to my lovely BBFs (Best Beta's forever) @henryobsessed and @nashibirne .

This chapter is from both Lori and Walker's POVs. I know it's a bit different to how I've been structuring the story, but I felt like it needed to be done this way.

There's more exposition here, but I think that will be all for a while.

Divider made by me. Edited by me, there will be errors.

Masterlist

Parts Masterlist

Part Sixteen Part Eighteen (coming soon)

Lori

“Are you sure you don’t want breakfast first?” Marshall asked as we approached the open door to Walker’s office.

I shook my head. “Let’s get this over with.”

He gave me a brief approving smile before cupping the back of my head and kissing me on the crown.

“Let’s go,” he said.

I took a deep breath to steel myself for what I was about to face and I walked into Walker’s office.

The space was simple enough, basically furnished with a dark, almost black, modern looking desk with a laptop and a number of open files and papers making a mess of the otherwise clean room. There was a matching filing cabinet and a bookshelf, a low modern black leather sofa and four simple chairs pushed against one of the grey walls and the floor was carpeted in a similarly grey rug. The only feature that appeared decorative was an abstract art piece that ran nearly the entire length of the wall.

It immediately caught my eye; it was impossible to ignore. The work was lit by museum style lighting and spread over two canvases. It was mostly white with sometimes wispy, sometimes harsh, feathery slashes of black, grey and brown paint. While there was an obvious darkness to the piece, there was something heartachingly optimistic about it. For some reason I was reminded of being a kid, blowing hard on a dandelion and watching with glee as the pappus floated away on the wind carrying with them the potential for adventure and a new life.

Walker cleared his throat. I glanced at him quickly, he was taking his seat behind the desk and Marshall was carrying over two chairs. I turned back to the painting and tried to reconcile the art with its owner, but couldn’t for the life of me see the connection.

What would a piece like this mean to a man like Walker? If it was simply melancholic and evoked feelings of fear and dread, I could see the attraction for him. However, the undeniable sense of potential hope and happiness born from the darkness had my curiosity piqued. Why would he not only buy it, but give the piece a place of honour, something that no other object in this room seemed to have? It couldn’t have been cheap, the artist was no doubt talented and experienced; it must have cost a fortune.

“Oh,” I mumbled, rolling my eyes. “Of course.”

It was an investment and a way to hide his true net worth from authorities. Granted, it was a high brow, convoluted way of laundering money, but it wasn’t unheard of, especially for international criminal syndicates. It was the only explanation that seemed plausible.

Taking one last look at the painting, I sat down next to Marshall. He pulled out his notebook while Walker selected one of the files scattered over his desk and opened it. He selected a page and showed it to me.

It was a grainy and dark photograph of the interior of a nightclub and appeared to have been lifted from security footage. A number of people were in the shot, mostly holding drinks and standing in groups of twos or threes. At first I didn’t grasp the significance of the picture, then I gasped as I recognised the couple in the middle of the frame.

“Jake,” I whispered. 

“Jacob Owen Wright,” Walker corrected.

Barely able to tear my eyes from the photograph, I looked at the two men, “How did you find him? Just from this picture?”

Marshall looked a little sheepish and glanced at Walker who showed no embarrassment. “I had some associates sweep your apartment for fingerprints and DNA.”

“What?” I asked, my voice hard with anger. “You had no right to do that without asking.”

Walker took out another couple of pages and showed me pictures of what I recognised to be Jake’s apartment only by the kitchen cabinets because the rest of the apartment was completely bare.

“We didn’t have a lot of options. The whole place was scrubbed. Not a single piece of usable evidence was found to start an identification. Your apartment was the only other place we knew for sure that he’d been.”

“You could have asked,” I said, only partly paying attention to what I was saying.

My mind was in a whirl and I found it difficult to pin down any single thought. It was clear that Jake had lied to me about who he was and what his interest in forming a relationship with me was, but this along with the tracking device suggested that a bigger conspiracy was at play.

“So, you found something in my apartment?”

“Not a lot, but enough for an ID. A thumbprint was found on the top edge of the headboard of your bed and further examination found the rest of the prints on the back as if it had been grasped and used for purchase,” Walker informed me blankly.

My cheeks heated as I realised how those prints got there. I remembered when it had happened and remembered looking at the athletic cords of his arm muscles stretching and contracting as he used the bed as an anchor to go harder and deeper. I felt like such a fool. In the back of my mind I must have known there was something off about him, which was probably why I never want the relationship to make the transition from casual fuck buddies to something more serious. I don’t know why I ignored that feeling and let myself be drawn in by a man who had nothing to offer but lies and deception just because he had the veneer of civility. Looking up at Marshall, it struck me that while the Brothers appeared to be lawless and crude, they treated me better than any man I had known other than my father, Nate, and Hustle.

“Prints on file mean a criminal record right?” I asked.

Again the two men exchanged glances and again Walker spoke, “Not necessarily. But in this case, yes. One offence in New Mexico as a youth. While he was born in your home town, it appears as though he moved around a lot. His mother, born Louise Anne Huxley, married several times, however Jacob’s birth certificate lists no father and we haven’t been able to find one. Louise changed her name several times, with each marriage and on a few occasions without a marriage. Jacob’s birth name was Jacob Flynt, but he has also been known as Turner, Johnson and now, Wright.”

I peered at the photo of me and Jake again. He never even mentioned that he had been born in my hometown, only saying he had moved there a few months before we met; he hadn’t even said moved back. He hadn’t been open about himself like Marshall or Sy, or even Mike and I never would have asked him to be. I’d known the Brothers less than a week and I knew more about each of them than I did about Jake. Well, except for Walker.

“Anything else?”

Walker shook his head. “We have more leads to run down, I’ll let you know if we find anything more significant.”

“You’ve had some time to think,” Marshall said, “have you thought of anything else, anything at all that could help with the investigation?”

“No. Nothing I haven’t already told you.” My eyes were drawn back to the canvas. “Have you told my brother? Does he know anything about this?”

“I spoke to Hustle—” Walker started.

“I asked about Nate,” I brought my attention back to Walker whose jaw muscles quivered beneath his stubbled cheek. “Have you spoken to him?”

“No.”

I nodded and swallowed down my fear. Nate must be alright; Hustle would have said if he wasn’t and despite everything, I’m sure Walker would tell me if something had happened to him.

“Is that all? Can I go now?” I asked.

Walker gave me a curt dip of his head, so slight it couldn’t be called a nod.

I stood and turned swiftly on my heels as I headed for the door.

Walker

Marshall gave me a flat, unimpressed stare as he followed Lori out of my office.

“Jesus,” I muttered as I placed the papers and photographs back in the manilla folder. What the hell did I do this time to get her so riled up? 

Sighing, I tapped the file on the desk and glanced up to see Marshall lifting Lori’s chin with a crooked finger in a way that suggested a familiarity that was far too inappropriate for my liking. It was a good thing Sy wasn’t here to witness it; no doubt he’d go completely apeshit. A kiss on the cheek was one thing, even Mike’s game yesterday was basically harmless, but the way Marshall was looking at Lori was absolutely not benign. 

I was sure Marshall would pull away before they actually kissed. I couldn’t blame him for wanting to kiss her; the girl was far too attractive for her appeal to be ignored. She was artlessly beautiful and she had a spark of fiery willfulness that always made my cock ache when I imagined seducing her into submission. But this wasn’t about Lori, I didn’t give two shits if Lori stepped out on Sy, it was about Marshall. Marshall wouldn’t betray Sy, he wouldn’t betray a Brother. Surely he wasn’t going to—

“Holy Shit!”

He did it, he actually kissed her.

My blood ran like napalm through my veins, my sight going red as I lept my desk and letting the uncontrolled rage rush through my system along with the burst of adrenaline, I let it all out in one furious punch squarely in the middle of Marshall's face.

A scream and a warm spray of blood slapped me across the face, quickly sobering me. 

Oh fuck, what have I done?

Marshall held his nose, no doubt busted and Lori was pushing me out of the way as she tried to get Marshall to lower his hands so she could see the damage. Marshall wasn’t having it, stepping around her as he confronted me.

“You deserve that, you know you do,” I said, coolly.

“And why the fuck would I?” Marshall said, blood pooled in his mouth which sprayed out as he spoke.

“You think Sy would have gone easier on you? Should I have just let him deal with this?”

“And why the fuck would you care what Sy would do?”

“I’m not going to let a woman break this club up, I don’t care who the fuck she is.” 

“It’s not what you think Walker,” Lori had the hide to say. I turned on Lori, her face was pale with fear, but she held her chin up as if daring me to hit her too. Fuck, she was killing me.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about Walker,” Marshall added.

“What else could I think? You’re kissing his fucking woman. You think he’s going to shrug and get over it? You’ve put the whole club in jeopardy and—”

“Walker!” Geralt entered my office, planting himself firmly between Marshall and me.

“He was kissing Lori,” I said. Jesus, I sounded like a kid trying to obfuscate responsibility after being busted by their dad. I may as well have pointed at Marshall and cried, he started it.

Geralt didn’t react. Not even a tiny twitch of his eye.

“You knew? You knew and you didn’t think to stop it before he came back? He’s going to fucking kill him.”

Geralt sighed and looked at the grey carpet now decorated with a blood splatter that Dexter Morgan would have been proud of.

“Lori, take him to the kitchen and put some ice on his nose.”

Lori gave me a look of disgust that made my guts twist. Fear, I could deal with; disgust was something else entirely. Marshall still had his eyes trained on me, his eyes darkened with murderous ambition. I readied myself for him to attack, but Lori took his hand, with a gentle tug and he let himself be led away.

I turned my attention back to Geralt as Marshall and Lori disappeared into the hallway.

“You’ve got some explaining to do,” I said to Geralt, turning back to my desk and sitting in my chair.

Stunned, I sat slack jawed as Geralt explained the situation - the pact the others had made - although it sounded too far fetched to be true. But it made a lot of things fall into place and explained what the others had been whispering amongst themselves over the past few days.

How could I have missed this? How could I not have known what was going on. Jesus, what else was going on in the club that I didn’t know about?

“What happens when the job is over?” I asked when he finished talking.

“Same rules as before, she decides what she wants,” Geralt replied.

“What if she wants to go home? Would you go with her?”

Geralt shrugged.

“Jesus. You’d let the club fall because of the whims of some girl?”

Geralt raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything.

“When were you going to tell me? When you were all packed up ready to leave and I’d be stuck here holding my dick,” I seethed through gritted teeth. “I’d expect something like this from Sy, he’s always been a little soft when it comes to women. Or Mike even, he’s a fucking kid. But Marshall? You? No. I thought you knew what we were doing here, what we were working for.”

“I don’t think she will want to leave when this is over, I think she’s found her place here.”

“This is no place for a woman.”

“She knows what she's getting into. She’s not naive.”

Geralt’s nonchalance about this whole situation was doing my head in. There was so much that could go wrong here. We could lose it all because my Brothers couldn’t think with anything but their dicks.

“You don't have to be on the outside looking in,” Geralt said with a sly smirk. “She likes you too, you know.”

I laughed, curling my lip and showing Geralt my teeth. “I saw the look on her face, she’s terrified of me.”

“Not of you, of what you represent.”

“I don't share my toys," I sneered.

Geralt nodded slowly. “It’s your call,” he stood, “I'll go check on Marshall.”

“Tell him…” I ground my teeth, what the fuck do I say?

Geralt paused and waited.

“Nothing.”

I glanced at the painting on my wall. The darkness loomed larger than usual and I turned away again quickly, not daring to hope for some light.

Over the next few days the divide between my Brothers and I widened while the others seemed to draw together as they closed in on Lori. Normally there was a schedule set up for guarding a client, even inside the clubhouse, but Lori didn’t need one; she was never alone. She went from Marshall, to Geralt, to Mike, back to Marshall. I didn’t bother offering to take even an hour of guard duty. I wasn’t asked to anyway.

I dared not ask which of my Brothers she was fucking. Marshall obviously, but had Mike and Geralt gone there too? It didn’t look like it, but I couldn’t be sure. I should have nipped the situation in the bud that first night when I found Sy in bed with her.

Dinners alternated between awkward affairs and actually entertaining. Mike in particular was lively, filling dull moments with jokes and conversation. But usually towards the end of the meal Marshall would look at Lori, and the air in the room became electrified as if statically charged. I would leave the room as soon as possible.

One evening after dinner, I walked into the common room and the four of them were there. Perched on Geralt's knee, it appeared she was playing a card game against Mike and Marshall, a small stack of chips were in front of each of them. Her brows were drawn low in concentration as Geralt whispered in her ear and pointed at her hand.

They all looked up simultaneously. Mike and Marshall dropped their heads back to their cards, Marshall still hadn’t forgiven me for the punch and barely spoke to me during meals. His bruising had faded to a few dark circles under his eyes and he had a small cut on the bridge of his nose. Geralt nodded in greeting but didn’t say anything. 

Lori watched me move around the bar until Mike pulled her attention back to the game.

“It’s your turn Babycakes.”

She peeked over her shoulder at Geralt and pointed at a card. He nodded and grinned. Lori dropped the cards onto the table with a smirk and Mike groaned while Marshall dropped his hand with a disgruntled sigh.

“I won?” Lori asked, grining.

“G won,” Mike grumbled under his breath while Marshall nodded.

She raised her hands into fists above her head and bounced excitedly on Geralt’s knee. I turned my attention to pouring my drink, slamming the glass down angrily on the counter.

“Should we play again?” I heard her ask.

“I’ll deal,” Mike said.

“Walker, do you want in?” Lori asked.

I paused, the bottle of whiskey poised just about to pour.

“On the game,” she added.

Mike snickered.

I started to pour myself a generous amount before raising my head. All four of them were looking expectantly at me. I raised my glass to my lips and had a sip, relishing the sweet burn as it passed my throat and settled in my belly.

“No thanks,” I said, already walking across the room, “some people have to work around here.”

I went back to my office. I didn’t have any work to do, not really. All the leads we had in the investigation into Jake were being handled externally by various contacts who worked for us on occasion and I had decided not to take any more jobs until this one was over. We’d had requests and offers, but after investigating Jake and relaying the information to Hustle, I had a nagging feeling something wasn’t adding up. I think we were going to need everyone on this and Sy’s experience in particular was needed.

I lit a cigar and went to the sofa on the wall. I stared at the painting on the wall as I smoked, and drank, waiting patiently for the heavy buzz that would let me sleep.

I was getting close when the gate alarm went off. I went back to my desk and checked the camera feed and saw Sy rolling the large wire gate shut before riding off to the garage. I sat in the chair and waited.

It wasn’t long before he appeared, bag slung over one shoulder, helmet tucked under his arm.

“Walker,” he said.

“How did it go?”

He placed his helmet carefully on the desk, shrugged then sat. “It was straightforward. No problems. Need a report?”

I shook my head, “Not unless there’s something we should be aware of in future.”

He grimaced, “One or two things, but nothing urgent. I’ll get it to you in a few days.”

“Fine.” 

I expected him to leave but he stayed sitting in the chair. After a few moments he spoke. “How is she?”

“Alive,” I said.

He nodded. Quiet again, he looked all around my office at everything except me then spoke again. “Where is she?”

“I last saw her in the common room with the others. If they aren’t there, then I expect she’s with Marshall,” I paused, trying to figure out what the fuck he was thinking, but he gave nothing away so I added, “Like every other night since we got here.”

He nodded again. Still nothing, his face totally impassive, I couldn’t get a read on him at all.

Sy stood suddenly, “I’ll get that report to you soon.”

I wanted to ask him where he was going to go; his room or Marshall’s? I wanted to ask him why he did it, I wanted to tell him I couldn’t have done what he did, I wanted to punch the shit out of him and tell him he was a fucking idiot. Instead I waited until he left and went back to the sofa and stared at the painting on the wall again until I fell asleep.

[friskyfixations]

well I’ve only written academic history articles for the past three years (that have no readership) so when a total of THREE people said they would read my Geraskier biker au I feel as though I have to….imma try and have a chapter written over the weekend.

BUT! If it’s not good you can’t tell me I’ll cry.

[wherethewordsare]

I was sitting here, Avoiding starting in my homework again. And i thought, why not give geo bae another prompt lol. How's about 37. Didn't know the other was a mobster/biker 😘 also if possible one of the OT3s?

I don’t know what I did to deserve you, my friend shaped Cheese, but you got it!!!

Geralt was humming. Honest to goodness humming. He never hummed, not to a tune of something that wasn’t even playing. But “Build Me Up Buttercup” had been stuck in his head all day and he couldn’t help the way his face nearly split as he worked on the dishes. 

He and Jaskier hadn’t even been dating that long but he couldn’t help the way his whole chest seemed to fill with warmth just at the thought of him. And to think all those dating apps and he had found Jaskier busking in the park. Shaking his head, he set the last dish into the wrack and dried his hands on his jeans. 

His phone buzzed on the counter and Geralt didn’t even hesitate as he scooped it up, answering it and cutting off the “Honey Honey” that Jaskier had set as his own ringtone half as a joke while Geralt was still wrapped around him in bed. Joke was on Jaskier, Geralt wasn’t planning on changing it. 

“Hey there you,” he caught himself smiling in the window over the sink. 

“So hey. Tell me you’re home?” Jaskier’s voice sounded wrong, there was a strain to it and he was breathing heavily. 

“What? Yeah I-” Geralt pulled the phone away from his ear, frowning at it as though the musician could see him. “Jaskier, are you alright.”

“Open the door,” Jaskier groaned and just as there was a thump on his end of the phone, there was a thump against Geralt’s door. 

He hung up and rushed to the door, just barely catching Jaskier as he came tumbling in. Geralt caught him around the middle but pulled his hand away from where it had landed on Jaskier’s side. It came away bloody and Jaskier winced and gave a small laugh. 

“So, I think there’s something I need to tell you,” he wasn’t looking Geralt in the eyes. 

“What the fuck, Jask,” he growled, hauling him into the kitchen and dropping into a chair. He reached for the phone again, ready to call the police.

“Wait, don’t do that. I... I just need-” Jaskier leaned back a bit and rolled his shoulder. In the light of the kitchen the bruise along his cheek became apparent and there was another cut along his brow.

“You need a doctor!” Geralt was starting to panic. Jaskier was being all too cavalier for his taste. 

“Why do I think I came here, Doc?” There was that same grin that Geralt got when Jaskier asked for his number and it made his throat run dry. He set the phone down and crossed his arms as he leaned against the sink. \

“I’m a vet, Jaskier,” he rubbed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “Alright. You got two minutes,” Geralt huffed, glaring at Jaskier.

“I was in a bar fight,” Jaskier groaned as he tried to sit forward a bit, his hand pressing to the cut along his ribs. Geralt could tell it wasn’t so deep but it would need a handful of stitches. 

“Obviously,” he snorted.

“No, stop. Let me finish,” Jaskier’s easy grin fell away and he looked up searching Geralt’s face. “My name is Julian Alfred Pankratz and I am a member of the Troubadours.”

Geralt straightened up. “The biker gang?”

“Yes. Though, mostly we just act as muscle for community events where the bigots show up to cause trouble. But, the law isn’t always forgiving for our motives,” there was a pained look on his face that seemed to have nothing to do with his wounds. “I was hoping to tell you, I don’t know, not like this.”

Sighing, Geralt reached under his sink and pulled out his first aid kit. He said nothing as he helped Jaskier out of his shirt, his eyes taking in bruises and cuts that populated his skin nearly as much as his tattoos. 

“Geralt, please say something,” he whined, lifting his arm to let him start to clean the long cut against Jaskier’s side. 

“Trouble Doers, that what you are,” but there was no heat to it. 

“If you don’t want to-” Jaskier started

“Oh I do, the gods help me, I still very much do want keep seeing you if that’s what you’re about to ask.” Geralt gave a low hum. “But I’m also going to teach you some basic moves to disarm ass holes with knives.” He pressed a disinfectant wipe to Jaskier’s brow and hissed in sympathy. “I don’t approve exactly, but I understand.” 

Jaskier smiled at him softly, his eyes full of relief. He finally relaxed, letting out a breath. “I love you.” 

“Hmm, tell me again when I’m not stitching you up and we’re not both hopped up on adrenalin.” Geralt wanted nothing more than for it to be true but right now, he had to get Jaskier patched up, no matter how the warmth in his chest from early started to spread again. 

Jaskier just grinned, even through the stitches. “Easily, dear heart.” 

--

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[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

"You look like shit." "I'm doing my best."

Songs used for this prompt: 

“She’s Got You” and “Sure as Hell Not Jesus”, both by Cosmo Jarvis

---

The guy playing some tiny stringed instrument and singing into the bar’s beer-scented microphone is surprisingly cute. Geralt feels a pang of guilt when he takes a moment to listen to the lyrics that fill the room up to the rafters with heavenly sound:

“I don’t care what you do, She says she’s in love with you But I know the devil wears a thousand faces.”

Geralt orders himself a straight whiskey on the rocks and moves closer to the makeshift stage to better hear the words. It feels as if they’ve been crafted especially for him; especially for the situation he’s come to find himself in. 

“So what you telling me, That you found love truly, But let go or you’ll forget the basics... “Like who’s your friends, you know, The ones you always told you trusted; But you’re a double agent.”

The singer has soft, feathery brown hair that sits against his forehead like something out of a 2007 emo calendar shoot and eyes the color of... well fuck me, Geralt thinks, those are the prettiest blue eyes I’ve ever seen in my life. 

Whoever this guy is, he’s at least five years or so younger than Geralt, still with a babyish roundness to his face, but his hands move across the strings with the confidence of a seasoned performer. He’s been doing this awhile and he loves it. Geralt can tell by the way his voice wavers and pitches through the lyrics like he’s living every word for the very first time. 

“Yes everybody tries, To run two perfect lives, But you’ve changed and boy I cannot take it.

“Minute by minute, A love sweet love, I don’t get why you haven’t had enough. Second by second, It wears you away and you’re gone.”

After this particular section the musician glances up into the crowd to make solid eye contact with Geralt. He plays a series of descending notes with perfect clarity and winks. The white-haired biker ducks his head and takes a sip of his drink, flinching at the strength but appreciative of the smoky notes nonetheless.

“When will you just learn she’s got you Wrapped round her little finger? When will you just learn she’s got you Wrapped round her little finger?”

He glances up again. Was this guy stalking him or what? The only reason he’d stopped in for a drink at all was because of Yen’s constant arguing over the past few days. He loved her, sure, but things weren’t really working out. Every tiny issue seemed to explode into a fight. Every possible way to talk things through went ignored because she wanted a chance to prove her independence and strength; what was the point of having a significant other if you constantly made them feel so horrifically insignificant?

Geralt often wondered why he’d gotten together with the gorgeous but impersonal spitfire in the first place. She wasn’t even really his type, all things considered; but he loves her, he knows. 

The rest of the song finishes out and Geralt sits in his comfortable chair still staring into his half-finished glass of mostly melted ice and some whisky. He downs the rest of it in two gulps and heads back to the bar to order a glass of beer. He doesn’t want to remember what’s waiting for him at home. Doesn’t want to think about Yennefer for the rest of the evening; not with those blue eyes boring twin holes into the back of his leather jacket. 

A new song starts up, soft but insistent. It demands his attention. The musician demands his attention without saying a single word to him directly. Geralt feels drawn to him and cannot fathom a reason why. 

“Here I sit; If I didn't need nobody, I'd thank God for it, There'd be nothing that'd stop me getting on with it... “It'd be me and my brain And my pain And my shame...”

No but really, has this kid been following Geralt around with a notepad, jotting down every failure and misstep to write these songs? Geralt sits even closer to the stage this time, at a table so near to the performer that he could reach out and touch the handsome musician if he wanted to. He does want to, but he also knows that it would be incredibly strange and rude to do so without consent (or even introducing himself).

The man on stage just looks so soft. Soft and tender in a way that Yennefer refuses to be. Can’t be, maybe. 

“Guess I am No big and strong Goliath, I'm a wandering man; And sometimes I get tired and I'm glad a hand Comes and slaps me and then It goes again. I guess you're my friend...”

Geralt listens to the rest of the song with a thoughtful look on his face; every word that spills from the singer’s gorgeously pink lips hits him in a new and different way. This is exactly what he’d needed. He gets out his phone and shoots the violet-eyed demon in his living room a quick text.

To: Yen

We need to talk tonight, but you should pack your shit just in case. 

When the little ‘read’ notification popped up he nearly cried with relief. It felt amazing. It felt freeing. He felt like he might sleep for the first time in fucking weeks without her icy presence beside him in the bed, her back turned to his in a show of obstinate, personally enforced loneliness. 

Geralt is a cuddler by nature and Yen always makes him feel so weak for needing to be touched. To be loved. She doesn’t need it so why should he? But he does. He really does. 

“You're sure as hell not Jesus, but you're saving me! Thank you very much for putting faith in me, Reminding me a light was once so great to be. I'm glad I made a friend that doesn't pray for me!”

After the song is finished, the musician sets his instrument aside and wanders over to Geralt’s table, plopping himself across from the scowling man with incredible ease. He gestures vaguely at the bartender, who sets a strange purple drink in a martini glass before him almost immediately. He stirs it absentmindedly before smiling guilelessly up at Geralt, “You look like shit.”

His voice is somehow stronger when he’s not singing and Geralt loves it. He wants to listen to this man speak and sing and laugh all night; he doesn’t want to go home. He doesn’t want to face the future yet. He wants this moment to last forever. Instead of saying any of that, Geralt shoots the stranger a half-cocked smirk and says: “I’m doing my best.”

“That’s really all we can do. My name’s Jaskier, by the way.”

“Geralt.”

“Cool. Very old-fashioned. Like something out of a storybook,” the brunette, Jaskier, grins. “You like my music?”

“Yeah. I needed to hear it tonight, I think.”

“Always glad to be of service, Geralt.”

[skai6]

Professor Jaskier and Biker Geralt AU

Jaskier is a young professor who teaches Music History at the local small town university. He leads a dull, unfulfilled life that rotates between preparing his classes, teaching, and returning to an empty flat. Rinse, repeat. 

Then one day as he’s driving to university, terribly late for his early morning class and cursing his as-of-late regular drinking habit, Jaskier’s car jerks violently and slows down to a sudden halt. Panicked, he shoves his head out of the window and curses audibly at the sight of the flat tire. 

What a rotten day, he spits behind gritted teeth and he steps out of the car to inspect the damage. The tire is beyond saving, sliced and smelling of burnt rubber, and Jaskier’s dumb decision to continuously postpone purchasing a spare for cases of emergency came biting back at him with bitter regret. 

He stands there, spent and beyond frustrated. What choices did he have? If he jumps into the next bus right now, he might still make it fashionably late for class, but he can’t just leave the car in the middle of a busy street without getting into trouble. The drivers behind him in line were already getting impatient, honking and flashing sinus glares as they slowly drove by, because why the hell not rub more salt into the wound while at it? Fucking assholes.

“Lost cause”

Jaskier’s head turned faster than his eyes could flicker, ready to bark at whomever just fucking dared call him a lost cause. Then he caught a pair of intricate amber hues, a sharp jawline, flawless silver-white hair, and a perfectly shaped body fitted into an all-black leather outfit, then whatever venomous words Jaskier was supposed to spout next fumbled in his mouth and all that came out was an air-stripped, stupefied “Oh”.

“The tire,” said the handsome stranger, leaving his massive motorcycle to come kneeling at Jaskier’s car. “Got a spare?”

Another shithead of a driver honks as he passes by, but Jaskier is far too busy taking an eyeful of the god-sent sexy biker to care at this point.

“N-No,” he says with slight delay, “I mean, I was supposed to buy one at some point, because you know, accidents and stuff, but I was too busy with university recently I hardly had time for anything else.”

“You’re a student?” comes the inquiry, and he stands up, and those perfect golden hues - a color Jaskier has never seen in anyone’s eyes before - are now staring right into him, stealing his breath. 

Jaskier internally groans, because good god, what are the odds for him to run into a man so hot and oozing of risk-taking charisma in a small town like this? Spoken from experience, none. 

“A professor,” he corrects proudly, grinning. “I’m Julian, but my students call me Jaskier. It’s sort of a catchy nickname, really.”

And there’s a moment of silence in which Jaskier catches a similar hint of interest in the other’s eyes, and the man decides to take him fully in before answering.

“I’m Geralt,” he says. “It looks like you need a hand here, Jaskier.”

Jaskier chuckles, his cheeks gaining a rosy tint as he briefly glances towards the busted tire, then back at Geralt.

“Are you offering?”

A subtle smirk teases Geralt’s lips.

“I can’t promise it’ll be fast,” he said, pointing behind at the motorcycle. “But I can give you a ride.”

And suddenly being hungover, terribly late for class, and having a shit start of a day didn’t seem all too bad.  

[a-kind-of-merry-war]

Biker AU for the Geraskier AU ask game?

RIGHT SO

Jaskier works at a bar that Geralt frequents - it’s not a biker bar per se, but it’s not not a biker bar. Everyone else is there in groups, but Geralt is always in there alone

This bothers Jaskier. Geralt isn’t talkative, sure, but he pays his tab and tips well and if there’s something Jaskier believes in his soul it’s that no one deserves to be alone. He worries about Geralt, so whenever he comes in tries to talk to him.

Geralt doesn’t want this upbeat, annoyingly happy guy chatting to him all the time. He wants to left to himself. But there’s something about him that’s intriguing, and he can’t quite force himself to tell Jaskier to fuck off, and soon - well - they’re not friends. But... but he doesn’t hate that Jaskier singles him out as soon as he enters the bar.

The real issue is that one of the reasons why Geralt keeps to himself is that he’s not exactly popular with a lot of the other gangs. He’s a lone wolf who’s ruffled more than a few feathers, refusing to stick to whatever garbage rules others try to impose on him. And this is fine - the isolation he can handle....

....until a rival gang (perhaps the Cats, or maybe even something with a monster tie-in?) decide that they’re sick of him hanging around “their” territory, and decide that he’s got to go. Him, and his little friend behind the bar. (”He’s not my friend”, he says, a dozen times. They just smirk, and rub the blood from their knuckles. “Sure he’s not.”)