#i like to draw lambert blushing

[sillylilfang]

maybe someday they won't get cock-blocked but personally I doubt it.

[inexplicifics]

If you're still doing snippets, I don't think we've had the Eldritch Trio one yet?

Also the Weird Omegaverse Warprize Thing is intriguing from the bits so far.... honestly I'm generally stoked for the entirety of the list.

If you feel like showing off one that hasn't been mentioned yet, blank space here!

Eldritch Trio:

The trio are all staring at Voltehre in bafflement as Lambert sits down. Well, Gweld is staring a little bit over Voltehre’s head. He never looks anyone in the eye unless he means to overpower their will. But the bafflement is still definitely there. “Hello,” Eskel says at last, a little warily. “Did you lose a bet?” “No,” Voltehre says, giving Eskel a sunny smile. “I wanted to say hello, and Lam thinks you’re fascinating.” Lambert covers his face with a hand and prays the Grasses really did destroy his ability to blush. “Fascinating,” Geralt rumbles, and Lambert shudders at the sound. It’s not fear running down his spine, though maybe it should be. “Fascinating,” Gweld lilts, sounding amused. Lambert puts his hands on the table to push himself upright - he isn’t going to stay here and be mocked, fuck Voltehre for dragging him into this - One of Eskel’s tentacles curls around his wrist. “Stay,” Eskel says. “Fascinating’s better than most of the things we get called when they think we can’t hear.”

Weird omegaverse war prize thing:

As the barbarians finish eating, they get up and leave the hall, without any ceremony whatsoever; by the time Jaskier has cleared his plate, the hall is three-quarters empty. And it’s as he’s setting his mug down empty - he has to admit he rather likes the strong tisane they were served - that a beautiful young woman gets up from one of the other tables, leans down to kiss the barbarian she was sitting next to on the mouth, and comes striding over to the omegas. She’s tall and blonde, with blue-grey eyes and a generously curved figure that suggests both strength and probable fertility, and as she gets close enough to smell, Jaskier realizes she’s an omega. He wracks his brain hastily, but he doesn’t think the young barbarian she kissed was one of those who claimed any of Jaskier’s companions, so she’s probably not coming over to assert her own prior claim to her alpha - “Hullo,” she says, sliding onto the bench across from Jaskier. “I’m Julita.”

And for the author's choice - knight!Milena

The first thing Lambert thinks when he sees the armored figure riding at the manticore is, Well shit, that’s a waste of a good horse. It is a good horse: an enormous black stallion, maybe even larger than Scorpion, with absolutely beautiful conformation. It dwarfs its rider entirely; Lambert, watching the coming catastrophe with a grimace, assumes some squire has stolen his knight-master’s mount and is trying to prove himself worthy of his spurs, and is just going to get himself eaten for his trouble. Manticores are basically only vulnerable at eyes and mouth, and the chances of the rider hitting either of those with a lance-tip from a full gallop are… Lambert’s own mouth drops open, and he stands there gaping like a complete nitwit as the rider’s lance takes the manticore squarely in its open maw, the full force of the horse’s weight behind it, and the manticore goes back on its haunches and then over onto its side, taking the lance with it. The rider reins in the horse, curving neatly away from the fallen monster, and trots around to face his defeated enemy, sensibly drawing his sword as he goes. The manticore is busy going through its death throes, though; the rider halts his horse and waits, alert but unmoving, until the creature finally breathes its last.

[theloremaniac]

Since its pretty much canon that Heket is a lesbian and because of my limited drawing skills preventing from getting what’s in my head onto paper I’ve decided to give a description on a girlfriend I made for her.

So her name is Kunum based on an actual consort Heket has in mythology Khnum and like her namesake her colour scheme is light green and dark. However since Khnum is a ram deity and in COTL Lore all the sheep have been slaughtered with Lambert being the last one I will be making Kunum a cow instead.

Now onto some backstory, Kunum was the loyalty enforcer and most loyal follower of Heket’s cult who over time developed a deep mutual fondness with her leader to the point that they had slept in the same bed together but weren’t dating yet. Before Lambert’s fight Heket Kunum offered to sacrifice herself to Heket so she could defeat him however Heket refused saying they had other followers for things like that and that there was another reason for why she won’t let Kunum sacrifice herself but says she tell her about it when she gets, Heket’s blush went unnoticed as she was waved off as she left for battle. When Heket didn’t come back Kunum got worried and decided to leave the cult to look for her, when she finally found someone she felt her world crumble. There she was her leader, lying there without her heart. All she could do was kneel down and weep.

This is why when Lambert found Kunum on a crusade she was a descender.

[maithefluffychicken]

True Colors

Rated T, Geraskier, DnD, getting together, coming out, fluffy fluff stuff. Ao3 link. Enjoy!

"Ok, your turn, bard," Geralt asks him, smirking. "What are you gonna do?"

Jaskier smirks back at him, very smugly, looking at Geralt and leaning in just so.

"I'm gonna roll for Vicious Mockery, let the bard save the day again, huh?" He grins, rolling the dice between his fingers… Long and slender fingers that have their nails polished with the rainbow’s colours and that are not distracting Geralt at all.

The whole group gasps when the dice stop rolling and…

"No fucking way!" Lambert yells, hands flying to his head.

"Holy shit YES!" Exclaims Eskel at the same time.

"Fucking bard and his stupid good luck with the dices!" Laughs Aiden.

The dice is showing them a natural 20. Perfect score. When Geralt talks again over the laughs and yelling of their friends, his voice is full of emotion and he talks faster than ever.

"Dandelion the Bard looks at the Elf King dead in the face and he starts singing solemnly, casting Vicious Mockery while strumming his lute. Dandelion?”

Jaskier improvises a rhyme and a silly tune for the delight of his friends.

Geralt can’t hide his own smile, his best friend is gorgeous like this, just having fun while playing DnD with a bunch of misfits; Jaskier could spend his time with someone much better than them, any girl of their class would be delighted to be in a date with Jaskier, and yet…

“He thrust every elf/

Far back on the shelf/

High up on the mountain/

From whence it came/”

Jaskier sings with a deep, rich voice, and Geralt wants to be annoyed by his antics… But the game is still on.

Lambert and Eskel snort and Aiden just shakes his head, smiling and leaning over Lambert.

“The Elf King looks at you and draws his sword, but your Vicious Mockery…”

“And my amazing Nat20.”

“And your impressive Nat20, yes… Are too strong for him and he falls on his knees, dropping his sword… Aiden, roll for acrobatics! While the bard was singing and melting the King’s brain, you’ve been surrounded by elves: three warriors and two archers…”

—

To eat the greasiest pizza after their DnD session is a sacred tradition… A sacred tradition that his brothers are now ignoring in favour of, well, get laid, Geralt supposes.

Eskel left them in a hurry, arguing that he had a date with Triss, his long-live crush, and that he wanted to impress her at the Arcade, and soon after, Lambert and Aiden left together, no explanations given, Aiden had just smiled at them shyly and waved his hand in goodbye.

Leaving Geralt alone with, well, with Jaskier.

That is not a problem itself, Jaskier decided long ago that Geralt was his best friend and somehow, that he was Geralt’s best friend too. At first, Geralt was baffled by the whole thing: a stray kid, adopted along with two other boys by a single father, leaving almost in the middle of nowhere, they all were misfits, outcasts… and the brightest, loudest, happiest kid Geralt ever known just decided that they should be best friends.

That was ten years ago, give or take. Geralt can’t remember the exact moment when he thought about Jaskier as his best friend, after trying once and again to scare the younger boy away. 

And now… Well, now Geralt was feeling rather odd around Jaskier. Not angry at him, nor upset. But… suddenly shy, everytime he found Jaskier looking at him, or worse, blushing whenever Jaskier casually touched him in the arm or whatever.

Being alone with Jaskier is both thrilling and terrifying, and Geralt feels tense and hot all over his body watching the boy licking his fingers clean after finishing a portion of pizza. His lips glisten under the dim light of the shitty pizza joint they both love. 

“Geralt, dear, you’re staring, do I have something…?” Jaskier says, and licks his lips. Geralt follows hungrily the path of his pink tongue lapping those full, pouty lips.

“N-no, you’re ok, I was just…” Geralt stutters.

I was just wondering how it would be if I kissed you, his not-at-all-helpful mind supplies. Jaskier is still looking at him, smiling fondly, and Geralt feels petrified by those bright, ice blue eyes.

“This pizza is not that good to render you speechless, Geralt,” Jaskier laughs. “Or are you thinking about my Nat20 again?”

Geralt snorts at last, looking away to avoid Jaskier’s natural spells.

“Huh, Jaskier, that was just luck,” Geralt teases.

“Knowing how to play and they call it luck,” Jaskier replies, shrugging and smiling. “It was, as you said yourself, impressive.”

Geralt shrugs too. 

“Well, ok, it was, are you happy?”

“Very.” Jaskier’s smile widens and Geralt… Geralt wants to make Jaskier very happy again, he just doesn’t know how to. So he changes the topic.

“Hey, what’s with your fingernails?” Geralt asks.

Jaskier eyes widen in fear and he looks at his hands like he hadn’t realised that they were there the whole time.

“Oh fuck, I just forgot about them after…”

“Hm?” 

“I-I need to go! I’m sorry!”

Jaskier stands up and takes his backpack and rushes to leave, almost bumping into a young couple in his run.

“What… Jaskier! Wait!”

-

Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck.

Jaskier had forgotten completely about his stupid rainbow nail polish after the gig; it had been the first year that he was able to perform at the Pride and he was so freaking happy to be able to play and sing for an audience like him.

He was still floating about it two days after, and he arrived to Geralt’s place to play DnD without realising that his nails were still proudly showing the rainbow flag.

And now he was running away from his best friend, scratch that, running away from the love of his short life, and feeling the tears running down his flushed cheeks.

He was still inside the closet for his dearest friend. Of the Morhen boys, Eskel was the first one to know, basically because he found Jaskier crying his heart out when Geralt started dating Yennefer, a girl from his class. So Jaskier confessed his love for Eskel’s brother then, and Eskel held him tight until he stopped crying.

That happened two years ago, when Jaskier was just fifteen and was still discovering his own body and feelings. And boy, he discovered how much a broken heart hurts.

Then, not long ago, was Jaskier who stepped in to find Lambert and his very dear friend Aiden making out in the Morhen’s green-house. Lambert and Aiden were petrified in fear and Jaskier had to confess himself and to promise them that he would never get them out and that he would help the younger boys to hide their romance until they were ready.

That was how Jaskier found in the younger of the Morhen brothers a fierce protector and a dear friend.

But Geralt…

Jaskier couldn’t get out in front of Geralt. He’s his best friend, more than that, Geralt is more important to Jaskier than anything else, Jaskier doesn’t want to lose him, and…

And it’s not like Geralt will reject him because of his sexual orientation, no, Geralt has never showed a hint of hate towards the queer community; no, Jaskier is afraid that if Geralt knows about Jaskier being, well, gay or bi or pan or whatever, Jaskier is still discovering that… Jaskier is afraid that Geralt will know about his feelings for him.

Jaskier is barely able to hide his love for Geralt now, shielded by Geralt’s wrong assumption about Jaskier being straight. The moment Geralt realises Jaskier is attracted to men too… Geralt will know. And Geralt will politely say to him that his love is unrequited. And then Geralt will stop being his friend just as he’s stopped being friends with Yennefer after their break up, and Fringilla before Yennefer, and Keira before Fringilla… Geralt doesn’t believe in being friends with those that want him. 

Jaskier can’t have that.

Jaskier would not let that happen.

“Jaskier!”

Geralt is running after him, and fuck, he’s fast.

“Geralt, please, I need to go!” Jaskier yells back at him, people avoiding them and watching them in confusion.

“Ok but.. I’ll call you later to check that you’re safe at home…” Geralt says loudly, and when Jaskier looks over his shoulder to look at him, Geralt is not running anymore, just looking at him with the saddest expression ever.

Jaskier stops running too.

He wipes his tears with the back of his hand, his backpack is heavy and tugs at his shoulders, and his lungs - used to sing for hours - hurts with the need to scream and cry.

He’s so tired.

He looks at his coloured nails again, the rainbow flag he’s so proud of seems like it’s making fun at him, now. But no, he’s the one making fun of the flag, he’s the one hurting himself.

June is the month to be proud of who we are. June is the month to be honest.

If Geralt doesn’t want to be his friend because he has feelings for him, well, then maybe Geralt is not his best friend after all.

It’s going to hurt, Jaskier knows it, but this constant lie is hurting him too.

Jaskier turns back to where Geralt is standing, his pained expression doing things to Jaskier’s heart. The extremely blond boy is just looking at him with concern and hope and by the way Geralt is clenching his fists, Jaskier knows Geralt wants to reach him.

“Geralt…” He whispers, his voice breaking. A lump in his throat is threatening him with more crying.

“I’m so sorry, Jaskier,” Geralt says instead. “I don’t know what happened, but I’m so sorry, I never wanted to upset you.”

Geralt takes a step closer to Jaskier, and good lord, why is everything so difficult? How can they be in this situation now? They argue a lot of times, for a lot of things, but Jaskier has never felt this scared before, nor has seen his friend this sad because of him, apparently.

“It’s not… It’s not your fault… It’s… Can we please go back to your house?” 

-

Geralt drives them back home, in silence.

He adores silence, it’s so difficult to find a moment of peace in his house, with Lambert being always a mouthy bastard and arguing about everything, and Eskel’s constant chattering and teasing and… And with Jaskier.

Loud, noisy Jaskier, always talking about fucking everything, always singing or humming for fuck’s sake. Jaskier, who is unable to be silent for more than five minutes, the boy even talks during his sleep, always with so much to say to the world.

Now, Jaskier is not talking, nor humming. He’s just sitting by his side during the short ride to Geralt’s house. And Geralt hates the silence.

His best friend has his eyes red and puffy, silent tears running down his cheeks, and Geralt is doing his best to just don’t reach and wipe them away gently and to promise Jaskier that everything is going to be fine, even if Geralt can’t understand what the fuck is happening.

Once at home again, Geralt leads Jaskier to his room and rushes to prepare tea for both of them. When in distress, prepare tea. Drink it, and then carry on. That’s what Vesemir says.

“Thank you,” says Jaskier with a soft, broken voice. It’s so wrong, Jaskier should be always happy, singing and chirping and…

“It’s a rainbow flag,” he adds, stopping Geralt’s thoughts.

“”What?”

“My fingernails. I painted them like this for… the Pride,” Jaskier explains, but he sounds off, scared even. Scared of what, Geralt doesn’t know. 

“Hm,” he answers, with a lack of something better to say.

“I… I played there, with Priss and Essi, for… for the Pride concerts, we applied and they… wanted us there…”

“That’s great!” Geralt exclaims and startles Jaskier, who clings to his cup tightly. “You three have been doing great with your band, of course they wanted you there! Why didn’t you tell us? We could have gone!”

Somehow, to say that, to… to offer Jaskier his support, makes Jaskier sobs harder, and Geralt wishes to know what to do.

"What? Jaskier, what…?"

"Geralt, it was the Pride!" Jaskier whines.

"Yeah, you just said that."

"Do you know what it is… Do you know what the rainbow flag means?" Jaskier asks, looking at him with panic in his eyes. 

Geralt looks at him, at his pouty lips now wet, and back again at his glistening, weeping blue eyes.

"Hm," Geralt needs a moment to think about something that is not kissing Jaskier. It's not easy, the need to comfort his friend and to reassure him is too strong. But he manages.

Rainbow flag. Yeah, that rings a bell, he has seen that flag, somewhere. He thinks Aiden, Lambert's best friend, has some stickers and such with it, and other flags with different colours.

Oh.

Oh.

"Yes, yes of course I know what it means, Jaskier," Geralt answers, feeling delirious. I just didn't want to hope.

"And?" Jaskier asks, expectantly. "Geralt, it was not a simple gig, we weren't there just because, but because Priss and Essi and I, we are… I am…"

Geralt kneels in front of him, and lets his hands rest on Jaskier's lap.

"Why didn't you tell me earlier?" Geralt asks softly. "Were you afraid of me…? Did you think that I would… that I wouldn't want to be your friend anymore?"

Jaskier nods slowly, more tears spilling from his eyes.

"But not for the reason you think," Jaskier cries. "I know you would accept me as I am, but…"

Geralt's heart is breaking, watching his friend crying, sobbing hopelessly and thinking that Geralt could ever stop being his friend, for any reason at all… That's just absurd, because Geralt… he… He's in love with Jaskier and…

And Jaskier doesn't know it.

"Jaskier… Julek… it's ok, I'm here," Geralt promises, taking Jaskier's tea off his hands and hugging him, as tight as he can. Jaskier clings to him, sobbing.

"You'll hate me!" Jaskier cries, grabbing his shirt, and Geralt just… just can't.

"Never," Geralt reassures him. 

"You'll hate me because I love you!" Jaskier yells. "And you push away all of your ex girlfriends, so why would I be different?" 

Geralt freezes then, still holding Jaskier.

Jaskier loves him.

Jaskier loves him.

Flirty, flighty, social butterfly Jaskier, the boy who decided to be Geralt's best friend.

Bright, loud, noisy, wonderful Jaskier.

"It's… quite different," Geralt says at last and Jaskier snorts.

"It is, Jaskier, because… Because I…" Geralt takes a deep breath. "I love you too."

The last part is just a whisper, reverent, contained. It's a truth that he's been avoiding for years. 

Jaskier squirms until he can lock his blue eyes with Geralt's own.

"You mean… as a friend?" He asks.

Geralt smiles at him fondly and shakes his head slowly before leaning in, his eyes flicking from Jaskier's eyes to his lips. 

Jaskier's breath is warm against Geralt's lips, his skin is wet and a little clammy after all the crying and sobbing.

"Geralt…" Jaskier whispers, breathless.

"May I?"

Jaskier closes his eyes slowly, leaning in until he can find Geralt in the middle.

Their first kiss is chaste and shy and, well, not how Geralt would have imagined, not with Jaskier crying in fear and rushed confessions, but it's perfect, because it is Jaskier who is kissing him back.

Geralt reaches for Jaskier's hands and threads their fingers together.

"You had no idea what the rainbow or the Pride mean, right?" Jaskier asks, smiling wide, with his forehead resting on Geralt's shoulder.

"I thought you simply liked the…, what's it called? The colourful aesthetic." Geralt answers, shrugging, making Jaskier chuckle.

They stay like this for a while, Geralt studying Jaskier's painted nails and caressing his hands softly.

"You could paint mine," Geralt offers.

"Geralt…"

"Maybe for the Pride next year?" Geralt asks, hopeful. "I.. I could go there and see your gig…"

Jaskier kisses him again, less chaste, more hungrily, and Geralt can't suppress the growl that rises from the deep of his chest.

"I'd love that, my dearest."

-

“Ok, ok, Eskel, your turn…”

Jaskier can’t help but to look at Geralt in awe while he leads the party through the Dungeon; Geralt always seems happy and free during their DnD sessions, but lately he seems… resplandescent.

Geralt glances at him and smiles knowingly while Eskel keeps talking, and Jaskier’s heart does a somersault under his golden gaze. Gods, Geralt is going to be the death of him, and now that Jaskier knows his taste, his hunger, the caresses of his hands… 

“Hey, bard, wake up!” Lambert exclaims. Aiden is basically sitting on his lap, laughing softly. “Do your bard wiles!”

“C’mon, give us another Nat20, bard!” Eskel cheers.

Jaskier chuckles.

He takes the dice and rolls it over the table.

By his side, Geralt smiles at him, wide and unguarded, his hands at either side of the Master's screen, and every one of his fingernails are painted with the colours of the rainbow, to match Jaskier’s own hands. 

“Ok, dice, gimme a Nat20!”

[thesleepy1]

The Picture of Lambert the Witcher

A/N: I have no explanation for this. I just wanted to get back into writing when I have the free time. I’m sorry it took me so long. <3

Pairings: Lambert x Eskel 

Summary: Eskel purchases himself a leather bound sketch book and fills it with pages and pages of the things he loves. He has far too many pages of just Lambert. 

Word count: 600

Warnings: Lambert’s colorful language 

“What are you doing?” Lambert asked. His head was resting on Eskel’s shoulders. It had taken him a moment to get comfortable, to squirm his way and adjust as he went until his head was perfect next to Eskel’s. The young witcher looked down at the book in the elder’s hand.  

“It's called drawing,” Eskel explained with a smirk. “It’s what people do when they have hobbies.” 

Lambert rolled his eyes and adjusted against Eskel’s neck again. “I know what drawing is, you arse.” Lambert pointed at the rough charcoal marks on Eskel’s page. “What are you drawing?” 

“Lil’ Bleater at the moment. Would you like to see others?” 

Lambert began flipping the pages without a word. There were depictions of flowers they had seen in passing, delicate things Lambert would not have paid any mind to but Eskel had treasured. There were more pages of Lil’ Bleater. Drawings of her grazing out in the fields and her asleep in the stables.

And then there was an alarming amount of pages of just Lambert.  

After a certain point there were nothing but pages and pages and pages of him. There were charcoal prints of him gazing off in the distance and colored depictions of him asleep and doing other mundane tasks like carrying buckets of water and training in the courtyard. Eskel had even rendered an image of him nursing a bowl of soup, the softness in Lambert’s eye was almost unrecognizable to the witcher himself. 

“If I didn't love you just as much, I would say you’re obsessed.” 

Eskel blushed and quickly closed the sketchbook. “It’s too much, isn’t it?” He made to put the sketchbook back in its carrier. “I’m sorry. I should’ve asked you first.” 

“Hey, hey, Eskel.” Lambert paused the older witcher in his movements. “I never said I didn’t like them.” Lambert took the sketchbook back and flipped to a random page of himself. “Do I really look this good? I think the artist took a bit too many liberties here.”

Eskel’s hand went to Lambert’s chin and gently pulled him into a kiss. Eskel rarely kissed roughly or with too much force. It wasn’t in his nature. Eskel kissed Lambert like he was drinking the sweetest, most refreshing nectar from the saints themselves. Eskel tugged at Lambert’s bottom lip with his teeth to draw out a moan but that was as far as Eskel took it. 

“You do. I—” Eskel had to remind himself to breathe when Lambert was gazing at him like he was now. “I can’t stop myself.” Eskel caressed Lambert’s cheek, fingers being extra careful on his scars. “I’m always afraid I’ll take too much if I don’t keep myself in check.” 

Lambert exploded out laughing. He leaped from his spot against Eskel and clutched at his stomach. His laughter was overwhelming. He had to wipe the tears from his eyes when he was done. “Are you some sort of princess, Eskel? Do you think I’m some sort of noble that’s going to get scared by your advances?” Lambert chuckled at his own words. He reached his hand to the back of Eskel’s neck and wound his fingers in the short hair there, pulling the older witcher closer. “You can have me anyway you please.” Lambert kissed Eskel and refused to leave up for air until Eskel had to pull himself away lest they pass out in each other’s arms. 

“C-could I draw you in bed?” Eskel whispered the request earnestly in between breaths. 

“You can even tie me with ribbon.” Lambert winked. “I bet I'll make for a lovely picture.”

[thewholecrew]

@headstrongblake asked: what are their biggest pet peeves? what makes them smile? any hobbies they tried and didn’t take to? / all kids who want

biggest pet peeves:

grant ward - people who talk with food in their mouth, prying questions from strangers, small talk, nail biting

kassy harwell - slow walkers, loud talking & energetic energy before 11am, women being asked about babies and marriage when it wouldn't be asked to men

alec cross - people who get plants but don't care for them, people who like being negative/bringing the mood down on purpose

rev everheart - talking about feelings, touchy people, pda & gossiping

nathan bishop - saying 'i'm not hungry' then eating from his meal lol, pacing while trying to have a conversation

trinity lambert - being overly materialistic, constantly getting the newest phone model, men inserting themselves into conversations no one asked them to

what makes them smile?

grant ward - watching someone he cares about be happy or cute or silly, dogs, happy kids with their parents, teasing him (but also it runs the risk of him blushing so)

kassy harwell - her people, cute animals, jokes that arent quite funny enough to get her to laugh, seeing someone blush, seeing someone laugh, the ocean, the sunset, the stars, someone being cute, someone being genuine/wholesome

alec cross - people in love, flowers, bees, butterflies, his friends, anyone complimenting him, happy families, people smiling, his grandma, cute animals

rev everheart - fighting in the ring, enjoying nature, watching someone they care about (they have to be unnoticed and alone), their brother happy

nathan bishop - pretty much everything from the little things like seeing kids play outside or an old couple, to making people laugh, to seemingly annoying people (in good faith), being offered anything, being trusted, being given a chance, being sneaky, being cheeky, to more important things like making people he cares about happy

trinity lambert - being able to be herself and show her joy freely, someone complimenting her crafts and clothes and trinkets she's made, seeing karma strike someone

tried and failed hobbies:

grant ward - being able to play the piano; he had been taught to play a few songs as entertainment for his parents parties but when he messed up they said forget it and hired someone professional and he never took much interest in it again

kassy harwell - yoga, it was just too relaxing she'd rather just take a nap & doing graffiti; it was a lot of fun but she decided against it mostly because she didn't wish to have a run in with police. i can see her maybe doing graffiti art on canvases instead but it's a thing of the past for her

alec cross - writing & drawing, alec met kassy through art but he was never much good at it and prefers to model for drawings instead of doing it hismelf. he also wanted to write his own romance novels and ocassionally will write little prompts but its purely for himself

rev everheart - when rev was young their mother tried to get them into ballet which they refused and hated, also then was suggested to learn guitar but they do not have the patience and nearly broke it

nathan bishop - reading; growing up nate didn't manage to get a proper education therefore struggles with reading even if he's always fascinated in the stories, he just doesn't have the patience and can become a little embarrassed for the lack of speed and skill. sewing; not necessarily as a hobby he enjoys but he tried once or twice to fix the few clothes he had

trinity lambert - woodworking; trinity loves and wishes to try almost every hobby and activity and skill she can however, growing up she wanted to try building birdhouses and things like that however it was deemed too masculine for her and her parents refused to support it, that along with most sports aside from horseback riding and kickboxing for self defense

[dapandapod]

The birthday mission

This one is a little long but I think it will be worth it :)))))))

Ciri Science and the idiot syndrome       On Ao3

Prev   -    Next

Ciri:    …. Wait. I feel like we have forgotten something very important.

Ciri: *counts on her fingers*      Geralt, when is Jaskier’s birthday?

Geralt: *pales*  *however that is possible*   Shit.

Vesemir: Language.

Geralt: His birthday was the first day of the year.

Vesemir: Shit.

Ciri:  ……………….. We need to fix that.

Eskel: quickly, he is coming!

Ciri: shhh! hide!

Jaskier: *just a bard strolling into the main hall* *the keep is suspiciously empty* *and quiet*

Everbody:  HAPPY BIRTHDAAAYYY!!!

Jaskier: *jumps out of his damn skin* *holy friggin cows!!!* *ducklings!!*

Jaskier:  uh… I.. wow, thank you? But it is not my birthday?

Lambert: WE KNOW, GERALT FORGOT!!

Geralt: *mutters* Wow, way to throw someone in front of a wagon, buttwipe…

Aiden: SO WE ARE THROWING YOU A PARTY RIGHT NOW!

Ciri: I MADE A CAKE!

Jaskier: *instantly doesn’t trust cake* *but it is very pretty and very crooked*              You are too sweet, thank you all!

Jaskier: *actually a little teary eyed*  *did not expect someone to remember at all*

Jaskier: *blows out candles on cake* *mighty lungs he only needs one go*

Eskel: What did you wish for?

Jaskier: *blush*          Nothing special

Yennefer:  *evil smirk*  *she read his mind*  *bard wants a kiss*

Cake : *is actually tasty*  *thank you vesemir for saving it*  *everybody lives*

Lambert: Time for drinks!!!

Geralt:  And for cubs to go to bed.

Ciri: BOOOO!  *but is actually getting tired* *off to bed she goes*

A few bottles of wine and honey mead later, Vesemir is passed out in his chair, Eskel is singing and swinging from side to side with Aiden, and Lambert is looking at Jaskier like he is trying to figure out what he is hiding.

Lambert: *squint* *squinting is hard when you are drunk*       What are you hiding?

Jaskier: I wouhld.. woulhld. I would never!!

Aiden: *totally gets what Lambert is after*  *this is why they are married* *Wait are they married?* *a little, right?*

Aiden: So what did you wish for?

Jaskier: I am not hiding it! I just won’t tell you!

Yennefer: *not as bad off as the boys but a bit tipsy too*      I know!!

Jaskier: Witch!!

Yennefer: Thank you! Just for that, I will let tell them. Jaskier wished for a kiss!

Aiden: Aaw! You should have said! I’ll kiss you!!        *throws himself over bard and kisses his brow sloppily*

Lambert: Hey!! No me!! I can!!      *shoves Aiden away* *kisses bard on temple* *so much hair ew*

Eskel: Me too, me too!       *yanks Jaskier out of chair and peppers his face with stinky pecks*

Yennefer:  Not happening.

Geralt: *all quiet* *suspiciously so* *slowly gets up and moves Eskel out of the way*

Jaskier: *WAIT OH BOY OH BOY WHAT WAIT HELLO?!*

Geralt: *tips jaskier’s chin up* *not even looking at his eyes* *if he does, this won’t work*

Geralt: *leans in, closes his eyes, smooches the life out of the bard* *right on the lips*

Jaskier: *dfkdjfkjdkfjdfjkfkJFDKJFFD* *he is being kissed* *geralt is kissing him* *proper kissing him* *like, proper smooch* *don’t send help please never stop*

Lambert and Aiden: *hoots and applauds*

Geralt: *draws back, pats Jaskier’s cheek, backs off* *sits down in chair* *passes the fuck out*

Yennefer: I think you got your wish, bard       *smug smirk*

Jaskier:  *bluescreen bard noises*  

[hotforharrysheart]

Coachella Virgin Part 1

The bedroom was dark except for the light from your laptop. Earbuds in, you were totally engrossed in an old episode of Dateline where a man convicted for pushing his wife off a cliff was being interviewed. He was about to make his confession when you felt the hand on your shoulder.

“Ahhh!!” you shrieked your body jumping and knocking the laptop over onto a pillow. “What the hell, Harry, you scared the shit outta me!” you say grabbing your chest.

“Jesus, babe, why do ya always watch tha’ kinda stuff alone in the dark?!” He says shaking his head and leaning down to kiss your forehead.

“I’m thinking about this story for my first podcast. It’s eerily interesting!” You look at your laptop, “Geez it’s late”

Harry takes his shoes off with a thud and crawls into bed next to you propped up against the headboard. You close the laptop and move to sit between his legs.

“How did your meeting go?” You whisper when he wraps his arms around your waist.

“Went well…the outfit ‘m gonna wear is sorted an’ ready…I’m looking forward ta it, gonna be a lot of people there.”

“I’m excited for you, H. You’re gonna kill it.”

Kissing behind your ear he whispers, “Come to LA wi’ me, love. Ya can come to rehearsal an’ then ride up wi’ me ta La Quinta.”

Turning your head to look at him you see his green eyes searching yours.

"H, you're gonna be so busy....and I have nothing to wear...it’s not like I’ve ever been to something like that…” you say, fidgeting with the end of your T-shirt.

“Here’s my phone. Text, Lambert,” he says casually.

Stunned, you look him straight in the eyes, “Harry, he’ll be dressing everyone. He won’t have time for me.” You draw you fingers up to your mouth and say, "Plus, I can’t just text Lambert!”

He sighs and grabs his phone and shoots a quick text and says, "Baby, I don' jus’ want ya there, I need ya there...."

You sigh.

“C’mere,” he says wrapping his arms tightly around you and pulling your fingers from your mouth. “Wish ya wouldn’t do tha’, ya’ll ruin ya polish…”

"So, what would you like me to wear?" You ask.

His eyebrows go up.

Turning to him you question, "By the way what are YOU wearing?"

"First of all, ya’ll have ta wait ta see wha’ I wear, when ya get there, ‘s a secret, an’ second, don't ever ask me wha’ I wan’ ya ta wear, because it makes me hard thinkin’ abou’ it.”

His phone beeps, just as you’re about to argue.

“’S Lambert. Here’s ya choices,” he says, kissing down your throat.

Scrolling through, "H, these are kinda revealing, do you think I can pull it off?"

“’Course ya can. An’ then I’ll pull it off,” he says, smirking.

"Harry!" you say squirming on his lap. You whisper in his ear, "I can feel you poking me in the bum, think you better settle down!"

“Can’ help it, love. Know what ya do ta me…’n I missed ya today…” he says kissing down your neck and nibbling his way back up.

"What do you think about this gold beaded with the pale pink?" You say, resting your head back against his shoulder.

“Love the pink but I’d like ya ta have different lingerie under there. I’ll get Alessandro ta send some over…maybe like the red set?”

“Umm, Harry that set barely covers my ass, hard no!” You say, giggling.

He kisses you deeply maintaining eye contact, "I really love ya in as little as possible..."

A blush creeps up on your cheeks down to your chest, “You really do, don’t you?”

"I love ya babe an’ I want ya ta feel sexy tha’ night, because when ya feel sexy…mmm, it makes me crazy."

“You make me feel sexy, H.” you pant.

"Wha’ are ya wearing under this?" He says trying to pull up your shirt. He's smirking at your expression as you move to straddle him.

“Well, mister, I have nothing on under this shirt, but you have rehearsals to get to early in the morning, you need to rest..." you say, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Hmmm…I think I need ta rehearse something else first…” he says, while threading his fingers in your hair.

"You don't think you better save up that energy?" You say, rolling your hips into his.

"Fuck, love,” he groans looking down where your hips meet. “Got enough energy fo’ both. Don’ I?” He says with a smile.

You shiver and goosebumps break out all over your body. “You DO know how to make things last."

Harry runs his hands up your thighs to your bum and pulls you closer. “Wan’ you.” He mutters against your lips. “Wan’ ya s’bad. Tell me baby, do ya wan’ me, too?”

Running your hands through his hair you touch your forehead to his. “Jesus, H..."

"Take this off fo’ me." He states in a low voice.

You cross your arms, grabbing the bottom of the shirt and twist it off over your head and throw it to the side.

His fingers draw light circles on your lower back causing you to shiver. You lean forward to gently place a light kiss on his raspberry-colored lips. He moves his hands to the sides of your neck and slants his head in order to take the kiss deeper.

“Open fo’ me.” He says, tracing the seam of your lips with his tongue. His tongue dives in and his kiss become ravenous. “How do ya wan’ me babe?" He pants against your lips while his thumbs stroke your cheeks. He pulls your head down and kisses his way to your ear, "How do ya wan’ my cock? Fast? Slow? Here? On the chair? On the floor? However, wherever, anything ya want. Tell me how ya want me ta take ya…”

You moan against his lips.

"Can smell ya, know tha’ ya wan’ me,” he whispers before sucking on your earlobe.

Your eyes flutter. “I…oh god…just like this. Want to ride you just like this. Slow. I want to really feel you, H.” You can feel your wet pussy rubbing against the zipper on his trousers. You know you’re making a wet spot on them.

His hands run down your chest to cup your breasts as his mouth kisses it’s way down your neck and collarbone.

You feel him smile against the swell of your breast when he mutters in his deep raspy voice, the one that comes naturally to him when he’s really turned on, "My baby wants it slow an’ easy, huh?" His mouth is working his way to your hard nipple. His hands have worked their way down and are rubbing circles on the cheeks of your bum.

“Yes. Want you so bad, H. Wanna touch you, taste you, smell you…hear you…it’s all so, so good.”

Pulling up on your bum, "Up, please."

You huff loudly.

“Just fo’ a minute, baby….s’I can get these trousers off."

“The shirt too.” You demand. Standing, you can't help but do whatever you can to get him stripped at lightning speed, stealing kisses among the buttons and zippers. “H, you’re so beautiful,” you whisper looking him up and down.

He gives you a full dimpled smile and actually blushes. “C'mere," he says as he moves to the bed, pulling you to him and onto his lap. “God, ya feel s’good, love. Ya s’soft… can’ stop touching ya.”

Sliding your hands up his arms, over his biceps to settle on his shoulders, you kiss his lips and then kiss down his neck. “Might want to tell the band you’re gonna be late in the morning. This rehearsal might run over,” you mutter, scraping your teeth against his sharp jaw. Your hand slides down his chest and stomach until you reach his happy trail.

His nostrils flair as you grab his cock.

“Might have to rehearse more than one position,” you say, positioning him at your entrance.

"Fuckin' hell, babe,” he groans. “Ya ready fo’ me?"

You don’t answer, you simply push your hips forward until he enters you.

His head falls back and your mouth opens in a silent sigh, "I love how that feels.... the first time you slide in, it’s like I can feel you through my whole body,” you moan, grinding down farther on him so he's as deep as you can take him.

Bodies so close your nipples are brushing his chest.

“Touch me here." You grab his hands and move them to your breasts. “Tell me…tell me how much you love them,” you whisper.

He groans cupping your breasts and lightly pinching your nipples. He leans forward to kiss your lips and then down farther to kiss one nipple. “Sweetheart, love ev'ry damn thing ‘bout this body, an’ these tits, my tits....mmmm…s’good," he says thrusting his hips slightly causing you to let out a squeaky moan. Pressing his forehead to yours he whispers, "These tits are amazing, someday I want ya ta let me fuck ‘em."

You gasp. “Y-yeah?”

"Baby, did ya jus’ get wetter?” he says against your lips. “Does tha’ excite my girl?"

Rolling your hips, you tell him, “everything about fucking you excites me, H. I want it…I want it all.” You lean forward to whisper in his ear, "I want you to teach me how to please you in ways I’ve never experienced, I want you to show me how to please you in all ways.”

His head falls back. “Jesus fuc-king Christ babe…shit.”

You raise up a little and then grind back down on him. “I'm so wet for you H, and you’re so fucking hard.” You kiss his mouth. “Mmm… How can you be so hard and feel so gentle to me all at the same time?” You pull his fingers to your clit. “Tell me how much you love your cunt.”

"I dream about my cunt an’ our spot, sometimes someone will be talkin’ ta me abou’ something an’ I'll kinda space out reminiscing the feel, the taste, the smell, the sounds when it’s really wet…”

You involuntarily clench down on him.

"Hmm…do tha’ again, darling," he says rolling his head back. "Squeeze me." He licks his lips. “Yeah, it's kinna embarrassing ta look down an’ hope tha’ no one notices wha’ I'm spaced out abou’."

You moan.

"God, babe, I love tha’ this cunt gets wetter when I talk dirty ta ya,” he whispers as he licks your lips. He kisses you deeply, licking into your mouth and sucking your bottom lip. “I love how it holds me tight, like the snuggest hug ever." Reaching down to grasp your thighs, “I love these legs that cradle me while I make love to ya…when I fuck ya…” He looks down in between you and he can see you moving over his dick. And how wet his dick is.

You notice him looking and run your hands through his hair.

His mouth drops open. “Holy fuck babe.”

He takes your hand and slides your fingers down to where you’re joined, "Can ya feel tha’? ‘M s’deep when ya sat like this." Guiding your hips up and down, he searches your eyes, "How’s tha’ feel?"

Your mouth drops open, “Feels so good.”

"Rub ya clit, love," he says, kissing your forehead.

Your fingers move slowly on your clit and you shiver, clenching down on him. “H-harry.... h-help me....." you say with a whine, cupping your breasts with your head to the side.

"Wha’ do ya need, huh?"

"Touch me.”

“I am touching ya.” He smirks. “Use ya words, love.”

You huff and look down at your tits. “Want you to...to....bite them.”

“Bite where?” But he’s gulping.

In barely a whisper you say, “suck them and bite my nipples."

He thrusts up hard.

“Ahh-ah...Jesus, Harry…did you just get harder?” you say, searching his face.

He’s panting. “Fuck, yes! How hard, baby, hmmm? How hard do ya wan’ me ta bite them?”

“Bite them hard, H! Really just…bite them hard!” You hold them up to him like an offering.

Taking both in his hands and moves his mouth to the right one and begins to kiss and suck the tip into a pointed end.

You look down just in time to see those beautiful white teeth of his bite at your nipple as his lips close around them

“Ahhh! Oh my fucking god!!!” You sob out along with a loud moan.

He pops off, "Was tha’ good? Babe, did I do it righ’?”

You’re panting, head thrown back. “God, that was so fucking good. I..holy shit.”

He’s smirking in awe..."Makes me s’fuckin’ hard when ya tell me how ta please ya.” He repeats the same action on your other tit and you feel like you might explode. He groans as he feels you get wetter. He pushes you off his lap. “Lay back, love.”

You nod. “Ok.”

He moves to hover over you and kiss you sucking your tongue into his own mouth. He then kisses down your body.

“H…w-what…w-what’re you doing?”

"Jesus, I gotta have a taste...I need ta taste ya cream on my tongue"

Your eyes go wide, "But I'm so wet?"

He groans. “Mmmm - Exactly”

"And you've been inside me."

"An tha’ makes ya wetter knowin’ tha’ doesn't it?" He grins. “Tha’ I wanna taste ya wi’ a little mix of me in there, fuck tha’s sexy innit?”

You blush and shyly nod your head

“I’m dripping for you, Harry.”

He smirks. “Lemme help ya wi’ tha’.”

You can't help it, your fingers go straight to your mouth in nervous anticipation.

Just as he's about to kiss your cunt, he slowly reaches up and pulls your hand away from your mouth, "Tsk, Tsk, Tsk, babe.”

He keeps your hand in his, threading your fingers together. Maintaining deep eye contact, he licks a long, deep stripe through your soaked slit from your entrance to the hood of your clit.

Your back arches sharply and your eyes close. You’re so sensitive and swollen, you know it won’t take long for him to make you come undone.

"Keep ya eyes on me, ok?"

Your chest is heaving. “H…”

"Wan' ya ta cum on my tongue an’ look into my eyes knowing it's me tha’s making ya feel s’good.”

You nod. You watch as he licks another long stripe up your slit, first softly and then a second harder one causing your hips to jerk up.

He moves his hand to hold you down and then sucks your swollen clit into his mouth. You cry out and can’t keep your eyes open.

He pops off.

“No! Why’d you stop?”

"Where are ya eyes supposed ta be?"

“On yours,” you pant.

"Who's makin’ it feel good?" he demands.

You roll your head to the side.

He bites his lip in anticipation…then smacks your clit. “I said, who’s makin’ ya feel good?” He asks again.

“Ahhhh! Fuck! Oh my god, Harry…You are!”

"Tha’s right, this is my cunt, now let me taste it properly, with ya eyes on me,” he says sternly.

"Harry, I'm so sensitive!"

"Good, I like you like tha’."

Groaning, “Please! Need you to do something!”

“Eyes on me, please.” He smirks, and with that incredible tongue of his, he licks deeply into your pussy.

Your legs fall apart wider and your hips buck up. You squeeze his fingers when he latches on to your clit and begins to circle it with a pointed tongue.

He pops off, then goes back in, circles, pops off, then goes back in again.

Mouth open, you’re trying to hold in the shriek that's deep in your chest. “Ungh...Ha-Har…f-feel so fucking good..." you moan in a breathy voice.

His beautiful green eyes have turned black with lust and determination. “Need ta hear ya....need ta see ya cum...please...love" he says in between popping off and back on, his lips glistening with your juices.

"Harry, I-I-I need to close my eyes! I have to! I’m sorry! I have to!”

With dilated, lust-filled eyes, he pops off, "No. You. Look. At. Me. Cum fo’ me, please, I need to see it in ya eyes.”

“Oh Fuck-oh Fuck-oh fuck!”

His mouth suctions back to your clit and you can feel your release exploding through your body.

“There she is….good girl,” he praises against your cunt, “My good girl.”

You’re panting desperately trying to catch your breath.

He moves up your body to rest on his elbows, face to face. He’s brushing your hair out of your face on either side laying soft kisses on your cheeks. “Jus’ breathe, darling, please, jus’ breathe…did s’good fo’ me. Just wish I could capture tha’ moment ya eyes change when ya cum. Jesus, I can be such a selfish bastard when it comes to ya orgasms…” he mutters to himself. “Ya body dances fo’ me, ya voice sings an’ ya eyes show me ya soul…it’s like nothing I’ve ever seen,” he says smiling down at you. “Ya ok?” He kisses your lips and ruts his hips into yours. “Need ya, darlin. ‘M so hard.”

Running your hands through the curls hanging down in his face, “I’m yours Harry, take me."

"Ya sure ya ok, baby?"

Hands grabbing at his biceps. “Yes, H, I’m good! So good! I’ll…cum again. Cum a-again for you! I want you inside me. Now.”

He sits back on his knees between your legs. You attempt to sit up with him and he shakes his head, “No stay there.”

Grinning he looks proudly at you. “Babe, ya so fucked out, ain't cha? Never seen ya so...’s like ya outta ya body or summat.” Lust turns his accent thick and deep. “Ya eyes are all glassy.”

You giggle. “I just…I…Harry, what you do to me. Just…God.”

“Wha’ do I do ta ya baby?” he says, smirking.

“You make me crazy with desire and love and…it’s intense. I…can’t get enough.” You smile shyly. “You’ve well and truly ruined me, Styles,” you say with a girlish giggle.

He throws his head back with a laugh, “Ya ruined me too, love.” Suddenly, he grabs you under your knees and pulls you onto his thighs so that your bum is propped up and your pussy is perfectly aligned with his cock. He runs his finger tips down your chest from collarbones, over your breasts, and down to your luscious thighs, "Need ta fuck ya like this, 'm s’hard...can ya open wider fo’ me...maybe I can just slide in like this.”

You gasp as he pulls you closer.

“Wrap ya legs around me babe…yeah, jus’ like tha’,” he says, just as you open your legs wider and put your feet next to his bum. His hands slide to your waist. Panting he says, “put me in babe.”

You reach to put him in.

Bangs hanging on his forehead, eyes nearly black with lust, so hard he feels like he’s on fire. “Unnngh…God Damn, when ya come hard like tha’, ya s’tight after...relax, love, let me in, babe." He's watching intently as his cock slowly disappears inside you.

You can't help but smile seeing the pleasure on his face, "So good, Harry… you always feel so good inside me.” You arch your back and your eyes roll back.

He lets out a loud groan as he bottoms out. Blowing out a puff of air, “Jesus fuck, love. Ya have no idea how good this feels.” With his right hand he brushes down your arched body between your breasts down to your tummy. "So fuckin' beautiful."

You squeeze your pussy tight on him and make eye contact to see his response.

“Fuck! Don’! I’ll cum! I’ll fuckin’ cum!” he pleads. His hands move to your waist, biceps flexing, he’s moving you on him. In deep…pulling almost all the way out before pressing back in - setting a steady pace.

Your fingers reach for his forearm. “Harder....H, please, fuck me harder."

"Touch yourself an I'll fuck ya harder," he says, panting.

Tit's bouncing, you slide your hands down to your sensitive swollen clit and gasp at how good it feels.

"Tha's it babe. Fuck me, tha’ feels s’good...keep goin'"

"D-don't stop Harry, please.”

Watching himself going in and out, “God…ya should see yaself like this, baby. Wish I had a camera.”

He feels you gush at his words. “Fuck!”

"Oooo, Harry right there....Oh my god, that's..."

"Tha’s our spot innit?"

You roll your head, "mmmm...yeeessss....." You can't help but smile blissfully.

His eyes follow your head, and he smiles proudly, "I got ya, love." He starts moving you on his dick faster. “God, ya tits…unghhh! Ya close, love? Please tell me ya close!”

“Can't hold it anymore, when you hit that spot...I just can’t hold it, please cum with me Harry, please, please.."

He pumps three more times deeply and falls forward onto his hands. His body he stiffens as he lets out a groan an octave lower than his normal voice.

Emptying himself inside you, you sing out a string of sighed air and repeated sounds...with a final muttered, "Harry..." spoken like a whisper of amazement and devotion.

He rests his head on your sternum, panting heavily.

Your hands go to the back of his head and your fingers comb through his hair.

He shifts just a little bit and your back arches.

“Sorry,” he pants out.

“S’ok. Just really sensitive.”

He wraps his arms around your waist and squeezes you tight.

"My god Harry...will it always be like this?"

He looks up, resting his chin on the back of his hand, "I believe it’ll only get better. Our shared joys an’ experiences will only make us grow an’ open even more wi’ each other."

You smile at him, brushing back his hair. “You should write that down. This is so much better than I ever imagined, and I imagined it really, really good. I’m so proud of you, Harry.”

He smiles and kisses your tummy.

"Thank ya, love. Shall we see what Alessandro might have that would go with the pink n gold?"

“Mmmm….Ok, let’s see if I can move….”

[samstree]

The One with the Coastal Customs

Geraskier, 1.8k, Fluff, Crack, Secret Relationship, Kaer Morons at their best, humor, Jaskier takes one for the team

Inspired by Friends. Read on AO3

Breakfast at Kaer Morhen is full of chatter as always. With Ciri and Yennefer joining them a few days ago, loud arguing and laughter always fill those once empty halls.

Jaskier picks at the rye bread on his plate, not paying attention to Lambert’s clearly exaggerated monster story, though Ciri seems completely entranced, prompting him to go on with anticipation.

His mind is still full of last night’s visage of Geralt pressing him against the wooden door and kissing him senseless. The witcher had to come to his bedroom after everyone else turned in so no one noticed. After the whole mountain incident last year and Geralt’s following apology, they thought it wise to keep their blooming relationship in secret for a while.

Let’s not tell everyone in a rush. Geralt was the one who proposed the secrecy. Whatever we have here is ours, Jask. I don’t want them to interfere or mess it up. You are too important to me, He said. Besides, what could go wrong?

Jaskier, at the time, agreed to it whole-heartedly. The witcher was so sincere that day, his golden eyes flowing with adoration and vulnerability that Jaskier could not deny him anything.

Despite some inconveniences, Jaskier has to admit it does make things excitingly hot. He almost feels like a naughty student sneaking out of class to make out with a lover again.

Jaskier’s hand comes up to touch the skin on his neck, the same spot where Geralt nibbed and sucked gently last night and left him a sobbing mess. Next to him, Geralt catches his motion with a look before a faint smile quirks up the corner of his mouth.

“Grape juice?” the witcher passes him the pitcher with the most unaffected tone in the world but his other hand travels up Jaskier’s thigh teasingly.

He has to choke in a gasp.

“…and bam! The third wyvern drops dead.” Lambert ends the story proudly, “And that’s why I’m the best witcher at this table. You have a lot to learn from me, princess.”

Ciri giggles as Geralt and Eskel chime in to call out all the lies in that tale. The room erupts in jabs and loud arguments.

Yennefer is the only one who remains silent throughout the whole meal. Her violet gaze only falls on Jaskier once, piercing with intent, before looking away like nothing happened. Even though their exchanges are a lot more amicable these days, the sorceress tends not to acknowledge Jaskier’s existence very often.

From the corner of his eyes, Jaskier sees Vesemir leave for the library. The older witcher still has work for him to finish today.

“Right, duty calls.” With a screech of chair, Jaskier stands so he can leave too. “I’ll see you later.”

He rests his hand on Geralt’s shoulder and leans in for a kiss. Geralt’s lips taste like the sweetness of grape juice and Jaskier revels in it for a moment before pulling away.

Everyone at the table is staring at him.

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

Jaskier freezes on the spot, a million thoughts going through his mind. Is it time to announce it to the world? They are ready for everyone to know and get involved, aren’t they?

But with one look at Geralt, he abandons the thought. The witcher has gone pale, and stiff as a statue. Panic starts to creep into those beautiful honey eyes, so subtly anyone else would have missed it.

Geralt is not ready.

Jaskier swallows. Well, there’s nothing to it.

He turns to Eskel, who’s holding a spoon mid-air and studying him with confused surprise.

“Eskel. See you later too.” He cups the older witcher’s jaw and presses their lips together. Eskel, the sweet man, even holds on to his wrist by reflex. He ends it with a pop before going around the table, careful not to trip over a chair.

Lambert can only be described as dumbfounded when Jaskier leans in, and incredulous afterwards.

“Have a nice day, Lamb.”

Yennefer looks at him with the same scrutiny. Wait, why is she looking smug? Fuck, the mage is looking scarier than the day they met. This one he might regret the most later.

“My favorite witch. It’s so good to have you here.” Jaskier opens his arms dramatically before going in, the familiar lilac and gooseberries filling his senses. Oh, her lips are so much softer.

When he stands to straighten his doublet, the whole table is still looking at him in silence. Geralt is tense as a statue while Lambert’s mouth hangs slightly open.

“Right.” He pats Ciri on the back and runs away from the scene, keeping his footsteps as steady as possible.

 *

Ciri is the first one to break the silence.

“What the hell just happened?”

“Language.” Yennefer berates her, seemingly unfazed.

Geralt swallows a lump. If Jaskier is willing to go such length to keep the promise, he can try to look inconspicuous for a moment.

A blush is creeping up on Lambert’s face, but he tries to hide it with biting words. “Geralt, what the fuck is wrong with you bard?”

“Watch your language too.” Eskel’s voice is steady with amusement. “Why do you mind it so much anyway? He’s being friendly. It was nice.”

If Eskel wipes his lips casually with a pleased look, nobody mentions it.

“In what world is that friendly?” Lambert scowls.

“It’s –” Geralt clears his throat, “He went to the coast last year. In the south. Must have picked up some local customs. That’s…um…how they greet each other. In the south.”

Lambert stares at him. “Doesn’t feel southern to me.”

Geralt gulps down all the juice in his cup. When he puts it down, Yennefer is studying him like a predator might a prey.

“Interesting custom.” Her violet eyes sparkle with curiosity.

Geralt has never been more grateful for his witcher trials for allowing him to remain calm under extreme pressure. His heart still beats slowly without revealing anything.

They are fine as long as it doesn’t happen again.

 *

It happens again.

Jaskier sucks at Geralt’s lips with heated passion, drawing a soft moan out of the witcher. Neither of them pays any attention to the flurries of snow falling into the empty courtyard around them.

“I’ve missed you today.” He moves down to Geralt’s jawline, and then his neck. “Where’d you go?”

“Had to repair the wall at the back, or the whole keep crumbles.”

“Hmm. Should have let it.”

Jaskier captures those lips again just when he hears people entering the courtyard, and pushes Geralt away with force.

It’s too late.

Eskel and Lambert stare quizzically at Jaskier, their training swords in hand. Behind him, Ciri is also in full gears, ready for lessons. The way she tilts her head in bewilderment is such a spitting image of her dad.

“Well.” Jaskier pats Geralt on the bicep. “Thanks for helping me clean the stable. That’s…nice of you.”

Roach snorts in the stable behind them.

He walks towards Eskel and kisses him again, and then Lambert. Boy he’s just noticing how tall the younger witcher is. Jaskier has to tiptoe a little bit. “I’ll be off then.”

When he passes Ciri, the girl just moves out of the way like he’s the plague. “See you, uncle Jask!”

Jaskier nods at her, carrying himself as naturally as possible, and enters the building.

 *

The gwent is going great. It seems that Geralt is going to win again.

Jaskier yawns. He’ll never see the appeal of the game, so he just reaches over Lambert to grab the lute. Maybe a little practice will be good–

“Okay, bard. You need to cut it off.” Lambert stops Jaskier’s motion with a hand on his chest.

Jaskier blinks.

“I don’t care whatever–” Lambert gestures around Jaskier’s whole being. “– coastal customs you picked up from the south. It’s not…how we do things around here. We are not in the south and it’s fucking weird. So quit it.”

“Okay?” He blinks again.

“I know you like witchers more than the average man out there,” Eskel adds, “and you want to show us. I appreciate it, Jaskier, but it might not make us the most comfortable.”

“What now?” Jaskier looks around the room. Yennefer and Ciri are sitting by the fire with some magic book spread out between their knees, watching the situation unfold.

“Quit the kissing, bard.” Lambert scowls.

Eskel smiles politely. “Yeah, it’s best if you did.”

Oh.

Jaskier can see the two witchers are clearly not at ease. Lambert’s face is a ripe tomato and Eskel is acting way too formal with all the niceties.

“Okay. Of course.” Jaskier raises his hands in defeat. “I will stop assaulting you with the overly familiar foreign customs. Message received.”

“Thank the gods. It was disgusting.” Geralt deadpans.

Jaskier looks into those golden eyes he loves so much and wonders if he can express ‘I’m gonna put a pillow over your face tonight’ with a neural glare. The bastard only raises an eyebrow in challenge.

“If you do need to let it out somehow, Jaskier, maybe your friends at that fancy academy of yours are open to it.” Yennefer says, chill as the winter sky, “Or some of your lovers.”

Maybe Jaskier’s eyes are deceiving him, but he swears the sorceress glanced in Geralt’s direction when she said ‘lovers’.

The ladies resume their discussion about spells and magic, and the gwent game continues. Geralt does end up winning.

Jaskier plucks his lute, imagining a million ways for his witcher to make it up to him later.

Oh the sacrifices he has to make for this ridiculous man.

 *

“The sacrifices I have to make for you, my dear.” Jaskier rests his head on Geralt’s shoulder, cuddling up to his witcher’s warm body.

“What sacrifice? I thought you were enjoying it.”

“They are quite good kissers though, especially–” He cuts himself off. It’s best not to discuss your lover’s brothers that way, or ex-lover, for that matter.

“Then what are you moaning about?”

“But my reputation!” Jaskier protests, “My name will be tarnished forever. Jaskier – barker and molester of witchers. None of you will ever let me sing your heroism anymore.”

“Hmm. Don’t you forget about Yen.” Geralt’s voice rumbles deep in his chest.

“Oh yeah. I’m surprised she didn’t turn me into a toad on the spot.” He plays with Geralt’s long hair. “By the way – I just have this inking – do you think, perhaps, Yennefer might know? About us?”

“Oh she knows.”

Jaskier bolts upright, looking at Geralt incredulously.

“Since when?”

“The day she arrived?” Geralt guesses, “I’m sure she took one look at us and figured it out. It’s not my fault she’s so smart–”

Jaskier picks up a pillow and throws it at Geralt’s smug face.

“And you didn’t tell me?”

Geralt finally breaks out laughing. He catches the bard’s feral attack and pins him into the mattress. Jaskier’s angry little pout is too adorable Geralt has to kiss it away. Uninterrupted this time.

“Is it worth it though? All the sacrifices?” Geralt's breath ghosts over the skin at Jaskier's throat.

The bard only glares at him for a moment, before letting out a sigh long-sufferingly.

“For you, my dear. Always.” He pecks Geralt’s soft lips one more time. “As long as no one turns me into a toad.”

[jaskierswolf]

Hallo Wolfie! I have a prompt for you if you like: Football player Geralt with Jaskier pining after him ⚽️ 🥅💖

Thank you Ellie!! I meant for this to be a wee fic... it ended up 900 words! Whoopsy!

___________

Jaskier really didn’t enjoy football. As far as he could tell it was all a lot of fuss for not a lot of fun. Still, he’d never missed a game. What could he say? He was weak and wanting. Kaer Morhen FC were the rising stars of the league, and Jaskier was perhaps their biggest fan. He’d known Geralt since school and was absolutely thrilled when his friend had been signed to a professional club. Yes, he didn’t enjoy football, but he would damn well support his best friend and love of his life in his career.

Of course it helped that Geralt was absolutely gorgeous. The football shorts did wonders for his arse and Jaskier was not ashamed to admit that was the real draw of the match. As Geralt’s best friend he received first refusal on premium tickets, meaning he had possibly the best view in the house. He cheered when he was supposed to cheer and booed when the other teams scored, but he really came alive when the stadium began to sing. He knew all the words to the songs, especially the rude ones. They were the first ones that he’d learnt. The songs were another reason he preferred to watch the matches live rather than on the box.

Geralt sprinted down the field towards the goal post and Jaskier had to admit he was on the edge of his seat. Ok so maybe the sport was starting to rub off on him a little, but he still didn’t enjoy it. He was a theatre kid after all! The rivalry was one he couldn’t betray.

He chewed on his lip, fingers flexing in his lap. There were barely thirty seconds left on the clock and the teams were drawing. If they didn’t score now then it would be too late.

“Come on, Geralt,” he muttered.

Geralt’s hair was half flying free at this stage in the game, coming loose from the bun on top of his head. His undercut was now barely visible through the sweaty mess of silver. He looked unreasonably sexy. It really wasn’t fair, but Geralt was ignorant Jaskier’s torture as he kicked the ball flying into the back of the net and not a moment too soon. The whistle blew and the Kaer Morons, as Jaskier affectionately called them, had won. Geralt was buried under his teammates as they all lunged to congratulate him.

Jaskier jumped up in his seat, hugging the person next to him. He didn’t know her but he knew if he didn’t do something he would run out onto the pinch and hug his best friend. Geralt finally appeared from underneath the pack of footballers. He waved at Jaskier, pulling the hem of his shirt up to wipe the sweat from his brow. The motion revealed the rippling muscles of Geralt’s abs. Jaskier felt his mouth dry up and he gawked at his best friend ashamedly. What he wouldn’t give to lick….

“Umm, excuse me?” the stranger next to him tutted and struggled in his arms. Only then did he realise he was still hugging her.

“Oh cock, sorry!” he sprang back, a blush creeping down the back of his neck. His crush on Geralt was really going to get him into trouble one of these days. He glanced back at Geralt who tilted his head, a puzzled but fond smile on his face. Jaskier should his head and waved his hand, a dismissing flick of his wrist. They’d have time to talk later. If only he could sneak into the changing rooms, he did have pass after all… it just really wasn’t meant for that.

Worth a shot.

He sprinted back inside, navigating the corridors and tunnels with ease. The security team were distracted with the end of the game, not looking Jaskier’s pass in great detail and he was through. He waited less than patiently for Geralt to arrive. He knew his friend had interviews to get through first, so Jaskier sang to himself whilst he waited. It helped to calm his nerves. What he was nervous about he wasn’t really sure? Perhaps he knew deep down that he was done hiding.

By the time Geralt arrived, Jaskier’s heart was racing in his chest, but he couldn’t back out now. He couldn’t, and he really couldn’t pretend he didn’t love Geralt anymore. He knew Geralt had seen the way Jaskier had stared at him. It wasn’t hard to make the connection, even if Geralt was an emotionally constipated himbo. Luckily, himbo just happened to be Jaskier’s type.

Lambert charged into the changing rooms first, stopping in his tracks when he saw Jaskier. “Oi, Geralt! You have a visitor.”

Geralt turned the corner, a hand running through his quite frankly disgusting hair. He should have looked gross but Jaskier didn’t care. He leapt before could change his mind, arms wrapping around Geralt’s neck as  their lips crashed together.

Geralt froze underneath him, and for just second Jaskier thought he’d made a terrible mistake, but then Geralt started kissing him back. The rest of the team whistled and cheered, but they paid them no attention. When they finally pulled apart, both Geralt and Jaskier were a little breathless and smiling dopily at each other.

Jaskier laughed and buried his face in Geralt’s shoulder. He wrinkled his nose at the stench of sweat but it wasn’t enough to break his high. Geralt had kissed him back.

[inexplicifics]

Hey I hate to do this but I’ve been in a downward slump for a few days and I could really use some of your particular brand of heartwarming.

Have some Cat flirting!

*

“C’mon, come sit and we can watch Kitten chase Lambert around the salle,” Aiden says, which makes Kitten laugh and Lambert snort and Sasha smile tentatively. Aiden ushers him over to a bench along the wall, and Kitten turns to Lambert, making a dagger appear from somewhere in her skirts. Aiden still hasn’t figured out how she does that, and he refuses to ask.

“Shall we, my love?” Kitten asks.

“Fuck yes,” Lambert says, and then, as they begin to move, grins wickedly and adds, “Better not disarm me today, though, less’n you want an audience.”

Kitten goes bright pink. “Lambert!”

“Do I want to know?” Sasha whispers. Aiden grins and shakes his head. He’s not entirely sure himself what they mean, but he can guess well enough, and if just kissing is enough to make Sasha blush crimson, then what Aiden suspects was the result of Kitten disarming Lambert would probably be enough to make the poor pup spontaneously combust, which would be a damned shame.

Sasha goes pink again, but thankfully Lambert decides not to needle Kitten any further, and they settle into their practice in easy silence. They’re quite beautiful together: Lambert has to slow himself down to human speeds, of course, but Kitten has gotten a lot faster even just since Aiden has gotten to know her, and she’s as graceful as a great hunting cat, feet silent in her soft slippers, skirt swishing gently as she turns. She and Lambert circle each other, feinting and retreating, Lambert giving deliberate openings for Kitten to practice her lunges and the more complicated strike patterns. Aiden is delighted to see her using some of the Skelliger tricks he has taught her, and some Cat techniques, too. Lambert is grinning, fierce and proud and wild, as well he might, with his beautiful lady showing her mettle so gloriously.

They finish their bout in a swirling clash which ends with Kitten caught in Lambert’s arms. She laughs, a bright happy sound that rings from the walls, and tilts her head up for a kiss, which Lambert happily provides. Sasha blushes again and averts his eyes.

Aiden grins at his companion. Sasha is going to have to adjust to seeing people kiss in public, since Witchers aren’t generally shy about such things - and the bard, of course, is cheerfully lascivious and unashamed of draping himself all over Eskel and the Wolf. Best for Sasha to start adjusting now.

“My turn,’ Aiden says, hopping to his feet and drawing a dagger, and Lambert gives Kitten one more gentle kiss before turning her loose.

“Come on, then, kitty,” he drawls, as Kitten takes Aiden’s place on the bench.

“I’ll give you kitty,” Aiden smirks, and pounces.

Sparring with Lambert is always a joy: the Wolf is strong and fast and agile and clever, and not shy about using sneaky or even downright nasty tricks. Aiden has to stretch himself to his limit every time, bouncing off the walls and squirming just barely out of the way of vicious blows, and it’s glorious and he loves every moment of it.

He wins this bout, if only barely, managing to pin Lambert’s arm to the wall and press his own knife to Lambert’s throat before the Wolf can quite recover. Lambert sighs and snarls and concedes as gracefully as he ever does, which isn’t very. Aiden steps back, grinning, and is quite startled to hear applause. He turns to find that Kitten and Sasha are both clapping vigorously. Sasha’s eyes are enormous, and he smells of faint apprehension and something that might be awe and something that is most definitely lust.

Hah. He likes watching Aiden spar. Aiden can work with that.

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

"Your nose is cute." For le dialogue prompts 💖

ohhhhh boy Comfy. You always hit me with that good shit, don’t you?

---

“Your bard isn’t bad looking,” Eskel observes. He’s leaning against the wall, watching as Jaskier splits wood in the courtyard and piles it up neatly along the wall nearest the kitchen door. “In fact, I rather enjoy looking at him.”

“Not a bad conversationalist either,” Lambert adds helpfully from a few feet away. Geralt grinds his teeth and keeps his arms crossed over his chest. “Want to play rock-paper-shears over him, Eskel?”

“I’ll win,” the older Witcher smirks. Geralt looks up then, surprise and confusion bright on his face. The other two feign ignorance and begin their game of luck. 

“What are you going to do if you win?” Lambert asks, still ignoring Geralt entirely.

“I’m going to ask him to read with me after supper,” Eskel says, “And then if he enjoys my company, perhaps I’ll ask him to take a break from his grouchy White Wolf and spend some time on the path with me instead. Maybe he’d like songs about someone who looks after him and says nice things about his music and his taste in literature. What about you, Lambert?”

“I think I’ll start by complimenting his taste in doublets,” the youngest Wolf replies. “The color he chose yesterday matched his pretty blue eyes so well and really brought out the rosy blush in his cheeks. Do you think that might win him over?”

“Perhaps.”

They play one round and Eskel wins. Geralt grows more and more tense as he watches in utter silence. They tie twice before Lambert wins the fourth round. “Ah, tied game. One last round to see who wins their chance at the bard’s affections?”

There’s a deep, feral snarl and their white-haired sibling tears off in Jaskier’s direction. “Fucking finally,” Lambert whispers loud enough for only Eskel to hear. 

“Jaskier!” Geralt calls, “Come here a moment, there’s uhm, there’s something important I have to tell you.”

“Yes, dear heart?” Jaskier wipes the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand and settles into a comfortable lean against the axe handle. He’s never looked less like a bard or more like a Witcher in his life and it does something odd to Geralt’s stomach; it feels queasy, almost like he’s eaten bad meat but not quite as violent. “What is it, Geralt?”

“You, uh-” he falters for a moment before drawing a calming breath and continuing on the way he knows he must. “Your nose is cute.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your doublets are nice. Your skin is very soft and you always smell so good. I like the way you cut your hair and the way you braid mine when I let you. I like the way you take care of me even though I have fast healing and the way you don’t listen to me when I tell you to stay out of harm’s way on the Path. I uhm, I like you, Jaskier, and I want you to stay with me for the rest of the winter. Maybe forever.”

“Are you...proposing?” Jaskier giggles. “Geralt, really, what brought this on?”

He turns to look at his brothers, but the other two are nowhere to be found.

“Fuck.”

“Is this a prank?” Jaskier sounds far less happy, now. “Are you... are you and the others playing some kind of mean joke?”

Geralt’s heart flies into his throat. Gods, no! He’d never do that to his best friend and unrequited love!

Rather than let Jaskier suffer another moment of doubt, Geralt pulls him into his arms and crashes their lips together. The bard is an enthusiastic kisser, it turns out, and returns the affection tenfold, wrapping himself around Geralt like a cloak or clinging vine. They kiss passionately, steaming where they stand in the winter of Kaer Morhen’s empty courtyard. 

Inside the keep, Lambert and Eskel exchange high-fives.

[thearvariblues]

The Witcher Eurovision!AU

Just an idea that got into my head while I was in the shower, since, as every European and non-European on this hellsite knows, it’s Eurovision night, baby!

So it goes like this:

Jaskier is a semi-famous (AKA Youtube-famous, probably) English singer with songs that range from “a bit weird but I love it” to “completely deranged and I LOVE IT” - a bit like The Amazzing Devil, obviously

he draws his inspiration from his life - like the time he gets inspired by a D&D campaign he plays with Geralt and writes Toss a Coin to Your Witcher (but Arvari, haven’t you already written that– Oh, shut up, brain, this is COMPLETELY different than the last time!)

he plays the song to Geralt before he records it, and Geralt, while secretly loving it and trying very hard not to blush, is like “Jesus, Jaskier, this is probably the shittiest thing you’ve ever written”

“Ex-fucking-CUSE ME, Geralt, it’s a lovely song, I could probably win the Eurovision with it!”

“Jask, if you somehow manage to be chosen for the Eurovision with this shit, I’m gonna be your background pole dancer, because that’s the only way I could make someone toss a coin to me.” (They’re both a bit drunk at this point, obviously.)

anyway, challenge fucking accepted

Jaskier knows there’s only one person who could help him to make this happen - so he tells Yen, Geralt’s ex-wife

who laughs for like ten minutes when she imagines her hunk of an ex-husband fucking pole dancing, and then immediately promises to do something about it

she pulls some strings, maybe sucks a few cocks - Jaskier is honestly too afraid to ask - but she gets him in

FUCK

so apparently, Geralt now has to learn to pole-dance

F-U-C-K

when Lambert (who, in this incarnation, is ginger and angry and Scottish, because fucking reasons that have nothing to do with a fact that I’m personally into ginger Scottish men, no ma’am) hears about it, he absolutely loses it

he demands to be allowed to go to the finale with them (and fucking hell, Geralt didn’t want anyone to know, and now everyone does, even people who don’t even know what Eurovision is, and Ciri has told all her friends and Geralt now prays that the ground would just open and swallow him whenever he has to pick her up from school and runs into one of her friends’ mothers...)

anyway, Lambert is allowed to come. So is Eskel. So is Yen and her wife Triss and of course Ciri. And Lambert’s boyfriend Aiden, because Lambert won’t take no for an answer.

Valdo Marx is sent a very special invitation which he very impolitely declines

also Lambert, who’s spent some time traveling with Aiden, bullies every non-British friend he has into voting for the stupid bard and the hot pole dancer (it doesn’t take much convincing once he shows them a video from Geralt’s rehearsal)

anyway the first time Jaskier sees Geralt actually do his pole-dancing number, he very nearly has a heart-attack

(no, he hasn’t been madly in love with Geralt ever since he met him twelve years ago, why are you asking?!)

he is pretty sure he’s not gonna survive the three minutes on stage with Geralt, but baby, what a way to go

he does survive

even though he spends the three minutes giving Geralt heart eyes that the whole of Europe can see

and call it adrenaline, but when the song comes to an end and Geralt gets down from his pole, Jaskier does the unthinkable and just... fucking kisses him

and Geralt just... kisses him back?

at this point, Lambert loses it again, and the whole audience with him

of course, they now have to wait a few hours before they can talk about it properly, but... Geralt it holding Jaskier’s hand while waiting for the results in the green room and WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?

if Jaskier had known, he’d have gone into the Eurovision like ten years ago

or just kissed the idiot

anyway, this is how the UK finally wins the Eurovision, thanks for coming to my TED talk

[friendofhayley]

Welcome to 2022 everyone! And welcome to the December 2021 multifandom fic rec roundup. Thank you to all the content creators who have ever written a word, drafted a pic, or even just brainstormed! We would be lost without you. This fic rec includes 12 fics from the Witcher, IT, Teen Wolf, and Harry Potter fandoms. Fics that ruined me are in asteriks. Enjoy!

Geraskier (The Witcher)

1. Jaskier Meets the Wolves of Kaer Morhen (series) by TheSupernova | Wolves love Jaskier - suspicious but loving Lambert - established relationship - Fae Jaskier - 2+ parts

When he took a contract to kill a kikimora, the last thing Lambert expected was to run into his brother. Scratch that, the last thing he expected was to run into Geralt and a bard, the latter of whom seems overly familiar with his brother despite Lambert never having heard of him. It's the sort of thing he'd walk away from, if Geralt wasn't hurt.

Gods, he should've walked away.

2. Jaskier: Part time bard, part time courtesan, full time collector of Witchers by CertainlyNotRoach (Sweet Candy) | instead of changing Witchers' reputation through some it's just stories of sexual prowess - jealous puppy Lambert - hasn't gone to the Geraskier part yet - Wolves, Vipers, Cats, oh my! - 24k+

Jaskier was the second most popular whore in all of Oxenfurt because his attention wasn’t an act; Jaskier fell in love easily and with almost everyone around him. He fell out of love just as quickly, which was a blessing because even a bard can only take so much heartbreak, but just a smile, a word, a glance or even a gesture and he was hopelessly in love. He loved almost all his customers earnestly and they always left with a spring in their step, a pleased blush on their cheeks or a small, secretive smile on kiss swollen lips.

He was authentic. Who knew that it would be his personality and not his species that would draw Witchers to him like moths to a flame?

3. to grow in adversity by @b-witchered | I just love the trope of Jaskier being the brother of the scariest women on the Continent - slow-burn - character studies of women - Jaskier is the sun, Renfri is the moon - 117k+

“For you!” Julian cried, shoving a fistful of weeds in Renfri’s direction, his smile wide and carefree. Renfri carefully took them in her hands that were only shaking a little bit now, smearing red onto green stems and yellow petals.

Julian clambered into the bed beside her and crawled halfway onto her lap. “I got you flowers, ‘cause you’re so pretty like them!”

“These aren’t flowers, they’re weeds,” Renfri told him, rolling her eyes but allowing the contact with ease. Some days it seemed like Julian was the only person in the entire castle who wasn’t afraid of her.

4. resist death, make trouble by @partialresonance | what if...Jaskier was super tortured? - dissociation - Geralt loves Jaskier - CW: aftermath of torture - 28k

Eventually, Jaskier settles down on the bed. When he’s been silent for several long moments Geralt cracks open an eye. The light from the fire in the hearth is more than enough to see by for his enhanced eyesight. Jaskier is curled up on the bed, back to the wall and limbs gathered up to his chest. It’s a childlike pose that strikes a dissonant chord in Geralt’s chest. He remembers spending nights with Jaskier in other inns, in camps on the roadside, and Jaskier sprawls when he sleeps. Limbs flung out in every direction, sometimes close enough to grasp for Geralt’s warmth.

5. Dandelion Lies by Hum My Name (My_Kind_of_Crazy) | show and book Dandelion merging, kinda - oof, this hurted - Geralt loves Jaskier - Jaskier & Yennifer friendship - 14k

After a less than favourable interaction with Rience, Jaskier knows someone has to warn Geralt about the mage hunting him down. But with the mountain and Geralt's harsh words still fresh in his mind, Jaskier can't bring himself to greet Geralt in the same way.

Enter a pretty new disguise and a pretty new man introducing himself to the witcher as "Dandelion."

6. *the roads we walk are winding* by @geniusorinsanity | fuck, this fic is a new classic - spin-off of the Warlord trope - this will hurt, but you'll enjoy it - found family - 67k

Jaskier doesn’t actually know how much time has passed since the black-cloaked Nilfgaardians grab him after a performance in a shitty tavern in the backcountry of northern Kaedwen. He’d assumed--foolishly, apparently--that he was far enough north that any Nilfgaardian soldiers would be few and far between, likely just scouts or even deserters. It would have been hard to actually get any further north--the little backwater town where he’d been singing was just a day from the mountains. Anymore travel, and he’d find himself skirting the Trail up to Kaer Morhen, the Warlord’s Keep, and, well. He’s brazen, but not that brazen.

Reddie (IT)

7. mirror of a bad dream by @gaydaryl | I'm a slut for single dad Richie - Richie's daughter is a lesbian Zoomer and I love her - found family - the Turtle can give magic powers - CW: underage drug use - 55k

“I already changed the tickets. You should change your passwords.”

Richie blinks, outraged. “I told you to stop going through my emails!”

Andy gives him a look like yeah, and? which is on-brand, for his kid. “So make better life choices than leaving your phone unlocked and crisis puking at eight in the morning, dude.”

8. *i already miss these days (i still look at the sun)* by jaeminz | Eddie is hard-core thirsting over single dad Richie the whole time, it's hilarious - good father Richie - most of the fic is the Disney vacation after Derry - everyone lives - 30k

Richie Tozier is forty one years old, a moderately successful radio host, and his biggest concern is whether or not his daughter will see and refuse to eat the broccoli in the baked macaroni he just popped into the oven.

Then Mike Hanlon calls.

Sterek (Teen Wolf)

9. Start Small, Like Oat Trees by @sterekationstation | healing together - post-Nogitsune - I'm gonna say Scott's a shitty friend, because it's true! - good dad Sheriff - 24k

The months following Allison's death have passed Stiles by in a haze of monotony. He sleepwalks through days that seem to lose their color, an unwilling passenger in a body he no longer trusts.

Eventually, he thinks, he'll just fade away. He isn't sure anyone would notice. Then, during a spur of the moment grocery run, he stumbles upon Derek Hale attempting to console a lost child, and for the first time in recent memory the world doesn't seem so awful. He's not sure what he'd been expecting when he eventually convinces Derek to move into the Stilinski's spare bedroom, but a newfound passion for weeding and topsoil certainly isn't it.

10. my wings a hurricane by @kellifer-k | oblivious idiots - Derek thinks his crush is obvious so he's Grumpy Grumperson - dragons are real - Argents aren't completely evil - 20k

Stiles had been like any other kid growing up in the era of dragons. He'd watched the cartoons, the news stories, had the lunch box. When his screening at Beacon Hills High had come up negative, he'd been disappointed but unsurprised. His positive results were returned three years too late for it to be in any way convenient or cool.

Harry Potter/Tom Riddle (Harry Potter)

11. Harry Potter and the Greatest Show by shadowscribe | what if Harry tried to save Voldemort's soul at the train station? - manipulative Dumbledore - Slytherin Harry - v v slow burn - Draco & Harry friendship - 171k+

The last real thing Harry remembers is standing across from Voldemort and watching the killing curse fly at his face.

Then he visited a fluffy white limbo that somewhat resembles King Cross Station and instead of choosing to move on or go back he does something else entirely.

And wakes up in his cupboard on the morning of Dudley's eleventh birthday.

12. Living Well by Lomonaaeren | what if Harry got sentenced after the war for having a horcrux inside him? - parallel world-hopping - HP has PTSD - CW: consent issues - 39k

Harry is treated as a Dark Lord after the war, and ultimately, despite all the efforts of his friends, thrown through the Veil. He wakes up in a world that seems to be what his own might have been without Voldemort. Harry makes a small, safe, quiet place for himself and vows never to be involved in politics. Yet somehow he still ends up attracting Tom Riddle’s attention.

3. love is touching souls (surely you touched mine) by ToAStranger - how many second chances does Voldemort deserve? this fic says up to killing the Hufflepuff descendent - self-growth - the answer is love, I guess - slow burn - 34k

Voldemort is dead. It's Christmas, and Harry's just opened a gift from Fred and George Weasley.

[elliestormfound]

Witcher Secret Santa

Dear @linx1457

this is your secret Santa! I wish you merry christmas and hope you enjoy your gift!

@thewitchersecretsanta

Geralt/Jaskier modern au, roommates, mutual pining, 1854 words

CW: none, just fluff and pinging with a happy end

read on ao3

--------- “I told you not to go in my room and I told you not to touch my stuff,” Geralt said, looking at his new roommate.

Geralt worked as a tour guide for the local national park. During the colder months less tourists visited and his wage hardly covered his rent. His brother Lambert had suggested he take on a roommate and posted an ad for him in the local newspaper. 

But most of the people that had answered the ad had been weird or downright creepy and he had lost all hope till a musician called. Jaskier - that was his name - was new in town and wanted to gain a foothold in the big city. He needed to stay somewhere cheap for a couple of months till he could afford his own apartment. 

Geralt had invited him over and even though he had not been sure if someone so outgoing would clash with his more reserved nature, he had somehow been convinced that it would work out.

But now he wasn’t so sure anymore.

“Who even has real steel swords?” Jaskier asked, “I thought they were cheap imitations from the ren faire…” They were standing in Geralt’s room where his two heavy swords had crashed down from where they were supposed to hang on the wall.

“They are from an actual blacksmith,” Geralt said through gritted teeth, and more quietly, “from the ren faire.”

Jaskier laughed, “so I was right!”

“That is not the point!” Geralt growled and bent down to pick them up.

---------

It had been the 18th ad he had called for a room and when the man with the gravelly voice answered, Jaskier had been instantly smitten. And when the man with the deep voice turned out to be illegally handsome and accepted him as a roommate the musician was in heaven.

And at the same time he knew that it was a bad idea to pine after someone you lived with. He had experience with that. Bad experience.

So he tried his best to keep his yearning under control. But on some days it was particularly hard. Like today with the swords. 

Jaskier knew he shouldn’t go into Geralt’s room, but he had lost the charger of his phone. So he snuck in when Geralt was at work. His eyes had been caught by the reflection on the blades of the swords on Geralt’s wall. 

When he had first saw them after he moved in he had been a bit concerned - who the fuck had swords??? But Geralt had told him that he used to work as a stunt choreographer for sword fighting.

Jaskier had walked over and brushed along the blade with his index finger. And the fucking swords had fallen to the ground with a loud crash. In the exact moment Geralt had returned from work.

After Geralt chided him, Jaskier grabbed one of the swords to occupy his shaking hands and the adonis that was his roommate had the audacity to stand very close behind him and take his hand in the most tender way and fucking breathe on his neck. 

He knew that he couldn’t have stopped himself from kissing the bastard and pushing him on the bed if he had stayed a moment longer, so he made some shady excuse and practically ran into his room to play some music to calm down. 

----------

Over the last few weeks Geralt got used to living with Jaskier. He would never admit it out loud but it was actually very nice that someone was there when he came home from work. He especially loved the days when Jaskier cooked. Opening the door to their apartment and being greeted by the delicious smell of lasagna was something he could get used to.

“I’m home,” he called down the hallway and suppressed a smile when Jaskier answered, “then get in the kitchen, darling, dinner is almost ready.”

After he had put away his jacket and boots he walked over and stopped in the doorframe to take in the kitchen. Jaskier was a great cook - his food always tasted fucking amazing. But the utter chaos he left in his wake was honestly impressive. Dirty pots and pans were stacked in the sink, little red spots of (hopefully) tomato sauce decorated the tiles behind the stove and at least five different packages of spices stood open on the counter. 

Geralt sighed quietly but knew that the lasagna would be worth the clean up later.

---------

Jaskier’s mother had told him that the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach. So he occasionally cooked for Geralt. 

Of course he didn’t cook FOR Geralt. He cooked for himself and made too much so Geralt could eat with him. At least that is what he told his roommate. Today it was lasagna. 

He smiled when he heard the key turn in the lock and Geralt calling out that he was home. He yelled, “then get in the kitchen, darling.” It had been funny to watch Geralt’s reactions to his frequent use of pet names. Jaskier had reassured him that he did that with every one of his friends, but to be honest, at least to himself - darling was reserved only for Geralt. 

“How was your day?” he asked, as his roommate stood in the doorway of the kitchen. Jaskier had just put the parmesan on the lasagna and made sure to angle his ass in the perfect line of sight for Geralt as he bent forward to put the lasagna in the oven. 

He smirked as he stood back up and turned around to find Geralt blushing. He cleared his throat before he said, “good, not many tourists in the park today. I gave a tour to a family and cleaned some garbage that campers had left behind.”

Jaskier smiled and said, “and then you come home to this?” He turned around and looked at the mess he had created.

“At least I get dinner here,” Geralt replied and walked over to the cupboard to get out plates. He set the table and sat down to watch Jaskier pour two glasses of red wine. 

Jaskier’s cheeks were flushed from the cooking and his brown hair was tousled. On the apron he was wearing ‘KISS THE COOK’ stood in bold letters. Geralt had to shake his head because his roommate looked very kissable right now. 

---------

“Fuck,” Geralt said as he hit the TV. There was only a static noise and a corresponding image that was not unlike the view of the snowstorm outside. No matter to which channel he switched, the results were the same. 

“What are you ranting about, darling?” Jaskier asked as he walked into their living room. He was wearing one of Geralt’s hoodies and his own ridiculous pyjama bottoms. At least he had told Geralt they were pyjama bottoms, but they actually were illegally tight fitting booty shorts that had “flower twink” written on the ass.

“There will be no movie night today,” Geralt said, hitting the offending electrical device for one more time, “the fucking snowstorm has cut off the tv.”

Jaskier moaned sadly and pouted expertly. It was not only pursed lips. It was a full body pout with furrowed brows, round puppy eyes first looking down and then slowly up through his lashes, shoulders hunched forward, arms hanging limply down by his sides and one foot drawing circles with his toes in the soft carpet. 

Geralt believed that his roommate secretly practised this and he had to admit in the privacy of his own mind that it worked every damn time on him. But sadly this time he couldn’t do anything about it. 

But then Jaskier’s face lit up with a smile and he said, “Geralt, I have an idea -” Geralt groaned quietly because Jaskier’s ‘ideas’ rarely ended well, but his roommate ignored his nonverbal protests, “- do you remember when I went to the flea market the other day? I bought an old VHS recorder and a video cassette.”

“Why the fuck did you buy that?” Geralt asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Be thankful, Geralt, it will save movie night!” Jaskier called as he turned on his heel in search of the old recorder.

-----

It did not save movie night. The video recorder did in fact work, which wasn’t short of a miracle for that old thing, but the video cassette Jaskier had bought with it was not a movie. 

“How could I have known that ‘fireplace romance’ is not a movie?” Jaskier said, eyeing the case.

“You could have read the description,” Geralt grumbled as he looked at the tv screen that showed a fireplace with a delightfully burning fire and nothing more. For four hours. 

Jaskier sat down on the couch that was facing the tv and patted the space next to him.

“Come on, it’s better than nothing!”

Before putting the tape in the recorder they had set up everything for movie night: popcorn, hot chocolates with the tiny marshmallows swimming in them and a bowl of gummy bears. 

-----------

They had sat like this for a while, talking about work and Jaskier’s next gig in a coffee shop around the corner. Somehow, without Geralt noticing him moving, Jaskier had come closer to him and was now pressed to his side. It felt good.

Jaskier took a sip of his hot chocolate and turned to his roommate.

“Geralt, what do you think about…” but he stopped as he saw Geralt smirking and looking at his lips.

“What?” he asked with raised eyebrows.

Geralt cocked his head and said quietly in his deep voice, “you have something on your lip.”

Jaskier frowned and asked, “where?”

Geralt gestured for his own lip and Jaskier tried to imitate him, but he missed the spot of chocolate. 

“Can you help me?” he asked, leaning a bit closer to him.

Geralt’s mouth was suddenly dry and he swallowed. Jaskier’s face was so close to his now that he could see all the tiny freckles that had faded during winter, but were still visible up close. He blinked and finally reached over. 

Gently he placed his palm on Jaskier’s hot cheek and felt him leaning slightly into the touch. Slowly he stroked his thumb over Jaskier’s lower lip to remove the chocolate that clung to it.

He could feel Jaskier breathing in deeper right before he opened his mouth just a bit and Geralt could feel his warm breath on his thumb. 

A heartbeat later Geralt threw all restraint and explanations why he shouldn’t do it overboard, and said in a hoarse whisper, “I really...i really want to kiss you right now.”

Jaskier’s eyes widened before a soft smile played over his lips.

Jaskier leaned forward to close the gap between them and kissed him. In that moment Geralt couldn’t remember why he had been convinced that kissing Jaskier was a bad idea because it was the best thing he had ever felt.

The kiss started slow and soft, almost chaste but when Geralt wanted to lean back he felt Jaskier’s hand in his hair, pulling him back into the kiss.

[dapandapod]

Beloved

So! This was the last of the prompts for @thepassifloradiscord Fluff Bingo Card nr 3, this time for Getting engaged!

Written around midnight and posted as soon as I woke up, so sorry if my spelling and grammar is a little funky but I'm running out of time xD Please enjoy our boys! <3

On Ao3 here

Witchers don’t get nervous, Geralt tells himself, fiddling with the flower Jaskier gave him, absolutely feeling nervous. The day had been perfect, just the two of them on the road, but Jaskier was… different. 

Good different, but a way that made him ache with anticipation. The bard is planning something, Geralt can tell. It’s in the way he keeps smiling secretly to himself, keeps checking his pockets, the way he gave Geralt a flower and kissed his cheek, like he gave him his entire heart to hold- yes, Geralt is a little nervous.

He feels like he is being courted. Wooed. And it's working, despite already being thoroughly lost on the man. Every time Jaskier reaches for him, it's like when he first finally acknowledged this thing he was feeling for Jaskier, and let himself respond to it.

Roach is pulling at the reins next to him, finding him an absolute bore when he doesn't let her graze by the road side. Technically, they are on their way somewhere, but there is also absolutely no hurry.

  He walks next to her, and when she realizes Geralt will not give in, she sighs. Big heavy sigh. She hangs out too much with the bard.

"So dramatic." He tells her with a smile, and she agrees, letting her ears droop and drags her legs behind her.

"What did I do?" Jaskier asks from in front of them, turning to look at Geralt. Fuck he is so beautiful.

"Wasn't talking to you." Geralt tells him, and pats his dramatic mare on the neck, only to see his dramatic bard fake swooning.

"Oh, no, he loves me less than his horse! Oh woe me!"

There is only one reply to that, so Geralt hums and rolls his eyes. This is not a discussion he will have with both of them present, or things are going to go sideways really quick.

There is a set up resting spot by the side of the road, a few travelers there already, but Jaskier frowns at them and shakes his head and leads them on. He doesn't say why, but the way he takes hold of Geralt's hand, their fingers laced together, palm pressed against palm, it doesn't matter. 

All is well as long as Jaskier holds his hand.

Yes, Geralt is a sap. He can admit it in the safety of his own mind. No witches here to read it anyway.

They walk until Jaskier seems to find what they are looking for. A small, overgrown trail takes them to an old burnt out house. The only remenants of what once were is the cornerstones and the wild but beautiful garden.

Jaskier smiles and leads them towards a big old apple tree. Before Geralt lets him unpack Roach however, there are some things to confirm. Like the witcher he is, Geralt walks around the house, flower behind his ear and ready to draw his sword should his medallion make the smallest vibration. But it seems clear. Just the singing birds and the whooshing of leaves.

"Finished?" Jaskier asks, hands at his sides. Geralt nods. "You don't remember clearing out this area only two springs ago?"

....Did he? Maybe he did.

"You got 20 Orens and a gwent card." Jaskier reminds him, and oh yes, alright, Geralt remembers. He got an excellent archer card from that one, that he traded with Lambert as soon as he met him.

"Now come join me. Oh, and maybe take off Roach's saddle, we're going to be here for a while."

"We are?" Geralt asks with an amused smirk.

"Oh yes." Jaskier agrees and looks away with a blush, touching his pocket again. It makes Geralt curious out of his mind, but he won't ask.

Together they set up the tent and a picnic blanket Jaskier somehow smuggled into their packs. The wine had been saving is also brought up, and from his own bag, Jaskier produces a kind of cookie with jam and some honey for the stale bread Geralt picks up from one of the saddle bags.

It's early summer still, too early still for the heat to become troublesome, but late enough for flowers to spring forth everywhere and the apple tree to bloom. They eat their make shift dinner in relative silence, which is unusual for Jaskier, but he looks lost in thought. Geralt doesn't push, just enjoys listening to Roach snorting, the birds singing, the gentle humming of Jaskier as he absently chews on a piece of bread.

When Jaskier attempts to chew on the cork from the wine bottle, Geralt intercepts his hand, grabbing his wrist.

"Alright. Spit it out."

Jaskier tenses up, his every feature reads how nervous he suddenly is.

"What?"

"You almost ate a cork. What is distracting you this much?"

Only now does Jaskier notice that it indeed is a cork in his hand, and he lets it go with a frown.

"I... Hmm." Jaskier says, and that infuriating blush is back again, and he can't seem to meet Geralt's eyes. "I have a surprise for you?" Jaskier dives towards his bag again, digging until he can find a little wooden box with some fabric sticking out.

When he opens it and shows it to Geralt, the witcher can't help but gasp.

"Grapes? This time a year?"

"You have no idea how much I paid for these." Jaskier agrees. "Come. Put your head in my lap."

Jaskier leans back on the apple tree, Geralt resting his head on Jaskier's thighs. It is comfortable. Familiar. Every now and then, Jaskier pops a grape into his mouth, plays with his hair, and then finally picks up a poetry book and reads it out loud.

It is a love poem, of course. They have been, for the past weeks. Jaskier's free hand is resting on Geralt's chest, fingers tracing the worn fabric of his tunic.

"Geralt?" Jaskier asks after a while, and Geralt realizes he has closed his eyes.

"Hmm?" He doesn't open them. Too comfortable.

"There is... I have something I want to ask you."

The bard's hand is still on his chest now, the book put down and the grapes gone. It's just them, and the way that Jaskier is looking down at him.

"Ugh, no, this is such a weird angle, sorry, here."

Jaskier helps him sit up, making room for him to lean against the tree. Their knees knock together and Jaskier takes a hold of his hand again.

"You know I am a viscount, right?" Geralt nods. "It doesn't mean much in the end, but it does make loving me a little more... serious."

"I know this. I still want you." Geralt reassures him, tightening his grip. "If you'll have me."

"My sister is married now, and she has taken over our estate. I am a man free to love again." Jaskier says shakily, before letting his free hand slide into his pocket and dig out a little pouch. "Which brings me to this."

Oh. Wait. Hang on.

"I love you, Geralt, you must know." Their eyes finally meet, and they turn to face each other properly. "You make each day worth waking to, each step worth taking if it is by your side."

Geralt's heart is doing something weird, it is beating hard as if he is in a fight, his hand suddenly feels damp against Jaskier's, and witchers are not supposed to be nervous, but things are about to irrevocably change.

"Geralt of Rivia, you are the best and the worst thing that ever happened to me. I have nothing to offer you but my hand, but if you would take it, you would make me the happiest man in the world."

For a long moment, Geralt doesn't know what to say. He looks at Jaskier's hopeful eyes, his hands growing even more clammy.

"What?" He manages finally, and Jaskier chuckles.

"Guess you haven't been proposed to too often." He jokes, and oh, it is really happening. "Geralt. Will you marry me? I have talked to my sister's adviser and he says that-"

"I will. I do. I-" Geralt interrupts. He doesn't know what to say, what to do, his hands are shaking with some kind of adrenaline, worse than that first time he pushed himself into kissing Jaskier. The bard's hands comes up to hold his face, to cradle his jaw, and their foreheads press together.

"You want to?" Jaskier breathes, smile spreading on his lips.

"I want nothing else. Anything that will tie me to you. Everything." Geralt whispers, closing his eyes when Jaskier is kissing him, soft, happy pecks that makes him laugh.

"So not marrying me for my title then?" Jaskier jokes.

"Fuck your title." Geralt growls, leaning in to kiss him again and Jaskier chuckles.

"I got you a ring..." Jaskier says finally, leaning back, a blush climbing from his ear to his chest. He fiddles with the little pouch, untying it and revealing a golden ring on a chain. "Figured you are not a ring person, but I wanted you to have this."

"Help me put it on?" Geralt asks, turning his back and lifting up his hair so that Jaskier can reach. His warm arms are around him, reaching around, and then he feels him fiddle with the clasp at his neck.

The chain is a little shorter than the one for his medallion, but not by much. It hangs over his heart, and Geralt presses his hand to it, Jaskier's arms wrapping around his waist as he leans against his back.

"I love you, witcher mine." Jaskier whispers.

"I love you, poet of my heart." Geralt whispers back.

Alright, maybe he is a sap outside his head sometimes too. It is worth it however, when Jaskier holds him closer and kisses him behind his ear.

"I was so nervous you wouldn't want this." Jaskier admits after a while.

"I'm a greedy man, Julek." Geralt murmurs back. "Everything you offer, I will accept. Always."

"Help me put on my ring too?" Jaskier says shakily, letting go of Geralt only so he can turn back and bring out the other ring that was in the pouch. More finger sized this time, with more elven inscriptions.

Geralt holds Jaskier's hand in both of his, slowly putting the ring on his ring finger.  When he is done, he presses feather light kisses to each of Jaskier's fingertips.

They sit on their blanket for a long time. Until the light fades, they feed each other what is left of the sweets, until hands start to wander and it is time to go inside the tent and touch, feel, love each other in every way they can.

They fall asleep in each other's arms, Jaskier's ring clad hand resting over Geralt's heart, next to a ring with elven script, just one word.

Beloved.